It has been almost two weeks since we arrived at the mine encampment. We had been close to death as we passed through the gate back then--dehydrated, starved and exhausted. This damn posh horse almost killed us on that journey, by simply not caring. The Equines here in the camp didn’t end up being much nicer or in a better mood, but at least they seemed to have an interest in keeping us alive. So for the last two weeks, we sat in those cramped cages they put us in and ate and drank whatever they gave us. While not tasty by any means, it at least was food and enough of it on top of that. Even though sitting the whole day in a cage under the smoldering heat of the desert sun had been torture by itself, but it at least kept me away from what I feared since we entered the camp. Then this morning, a tall, white-furred, muscle packed horse approached to unlock my cage and lead me to the place I dreaded so much.


With a rope around my wrists and the other end tightly held by the horse, I had no choice but to follow him. The entrance into the mountain loomed over me like the gaping maw of the Dark Abyss. Endless darkness that will swallow me whole and digest for eternity. At least if there is one place that resembles the Dark Abyss of legend; this is it. And there is one thing I’m dreadfully aware of, like the underworld of the Dark Abyss, I’ll likely never leave this place again--not alive at least. Tears wet my cheeks as those dire thoughts accompanied me into this gaping maw that they call the “Arid Mine”. The biggest and richest mine in the known world. A horrible hellhole where slaves work their asses off, to involuntarily help the equines subjugating more kingdoms and subsequently enslave more furs.


If I ever had any sort of courage, it left me after we passed the entrance. When the bright sunlight and scorching heat of the desert faded and the darkness of the mine engulfed me, only illuminated by torchlight here and there. The stone was cold on my bare feet, and the air became cooler with every step deeper into the mineshaft. It made me painfully aware of my nudity. Even though it seemed that I’m sharing this particular issue with everyone else here. Slaves worked on both sides of the vast main tunnel; all of them as unclothed as myself. In the middle of the tunnel ran two rows of rails, with minecarts pushed by equally naked Elephants, Rhinos, and some other big breeds. 


I shuddered as I watched their humongous cocks dangling with their movements. Horses raped me before, and calling it painful would be an understatement. But compared to what hangs between those Elephant’s legs, a horsecock seemed tiny. Having those monsters buried in my ass would outright kill me. Horses are already way beyond my limit, I’m just a small bunny after all. Even though I’d preferably never take anything in my backside. I blushed at those thoughts. That’s what my life has become? Thinking about the cocksize of other furs and how much it hurts if they rape me?


I tried focusing on my surroundings instead. Where do all those small, sometimes even tiny side tunnels lead? Is this where smaller furs like me are working? I haven’t yet seen anything below the size of a lion in the main shaft. There are also barely any horse guards in here. Those that are here, though, are unlike the slaves, clothed adequately for the chilly temperatures of the mine. Woolen pants and jackets kept them warm as they did their work amid the nude slaves. Though they seemed to be more busy by organizing the destination of the mine carts and giving orders than actually guarding or using the whips on their belts. Yet all those huge, strong and muscular slaves--we passed many dozens by now, and in comparison maybe 5 horses--did work on their limits. Sweating and grunting as their pickaxes hit the hard rocks over and over. 


We’ve been walking for a while now. Deeper and deeper into the mountain. If I had to guess, we are at least one or two miles into the mine. The deeper we got, the fewer wardens I’ve spotted. Had there been even one for the last 20 minutes? The number of furiously hacking slaves, on the other hand, stayed constant. Finally, we stopped. Wordlessly the guard removed the rope from my wrists and handed me the pickaxe he had carried on his belt. He pointed to a small side tunnel and grunted: “Go in there!” Then he turned and walked back toward the outside.


As there seemingly wasn’t another reasonable course of action, I entered the small tunnel. After only a few dozen steps, I reached the end. Four Squirrels worked there. Short but muscular and sweaty like the bigger breeds in the main tunnel and unsurprisingly without the slightest scrap of fabric on their bodies. With their backs toward me and the loud noises their pickaxes produced by hitting the hard rock, they haven’t yet noticed me. 


After I cleared my throat, I spoke: “Uhm---excuse me. I was sent he…”


All four of them turned around, irritation and hostility on their faces. 


“What the heck do you want here?” the first - a red one - said.


“Who are you even?” a second one - a grey-furred girl - continued.


“You don’t belong here!” a black-furred squirrel chimed in. 


“We are already four! Go away!” the last one said.


“B-but the guard sent me here. I-I can’t just go back-- I mean--” I tried to argue.


“No no, go! Now! Begone! Only groups of four! That’s their rule! Go!” They all said in unison.


I tried to say something, but before even one syllable left my mouth, they had begun to throw small rocks at me. The black one even raised his pickaxe threateningly. Afraid of my life and to avoid the stones, I run back from where I came. They didn’t hit me hard, and thus I wasn’t injured, but mostly just shocked by their reaction. What am I supposed to do now? Panic arose. I can’t just stand here. I can’t hide. I can’t run away. I can’t work--not that I would want to--but even without being an expert on the matter, a slave who doesn’t work probably has a short lifespan. I could only think about one thing that could solve my dilemma; Running back and finding the horse that led me here, he can’t be too far away yet. I’m afraid of what he will do to me when he sees me again. He certainly won’t be happy. But it’s probably better than doing nothing, and wait and hope that no one finds me? Hoping I can get food without working? No, someone would find out sooner or later. And judging by the Squirrels reaction, people are not going to help me. So I ran, trying to find the horse.


He indeed hadn’t gotten far yet, and I caught up to him quite quickly. My stomach cramped up at the thought of what he will do to me. Will I be punished? He certainly won’t be happy to see me again. 


“Sir, please, sir!”


He turned around, his surprised expression quickly changed into irritation. “What are you doing here? You got 5 seconds to explain before I beat you to mush, slave!”


“Please, i-it’s not my fault! The Squirrels in the tunnel, t-they said they are four a-and they threw stones at me---saying I have to go---please! I-I didn’t want to bother you--- I-I’m so sorry, S-s-sir!”


He stared down at me. Probably still thinking if he should just beat me to death. I kneeled there with my hands folded pleadingly; shaking; fearing for my life; barely managing to not piss on the floor out of fear. After what appeared like an eternity but likely only had been mere seconds, he wordlessly grabbed my arm and yanked me up. That’s it, the first hit will come in a moment. He’s going to kill me!


He didn’t. The horse dragged me through the mine. Past the tunnel off, which the Squirrels chased me out. Two shafts further, we stopped. “In there, slave! Come back again, and you’re dead!”


“T-thank you, S-sir!” Was all I stammered. Relieved to be still alive and unscathed. 


I entered the tunnel he commanded me to. It wasn’t long before a small natural cave opened up before me. A Rat and a Vixen furiously hit the hard rock. Both muscular, sweaty, and dirty, like any other slave I have seen so far in this damned place. It was the Rat who first noticed me. Angrily he eyed me up. “What does a wimp like you want here? Look at you, you barely can hold your pickaxe!”


“I-I’m supposed to work here” was my meek response.  


“Look, what those damn bastards sent us!” he yelled toward the Vixen. 


“Hmpf, but really, go where you came from! We don’t need some weak newcomer here, who can barely hold his pick! Go!” he said to me, the Vixen now also aware of my presence had stopped working too and eyed me up. 


“N-No! H-he’s going to kill me! I’m supposed to be here! Damn, what’s wrong with everyone here?”


“What’s wrong? Well, you mean, aside from that we are forced to do hard labor while being nude?” The Vixen asked rhetorically. 


“Oh, and aside from the fact that we have to sleep on the cold hard floor for years by now?” the Rat chimed in.


“Don’t forget that we haven’t seen the sun in years, Ratty.” 


“Or had a bath.”


“There are also the daily rapes.” the Vixen followed up.


“The shame and humiliation of being a slave of the enemy...” 


“So, yeah, you see, there are a lot of things wrong here. But you know all this shit aside, do you know what the biggest problem is? “


Despite that her question was clearly rhetorical, she seemed to wait for my answer, so I simply shook my head. 


“Well, did you ever wonder why everyone is working his ass off, despite that there are barely any guards? See, the slaves here are all divided into groups of four furs. We used to be more, but accidents happen in a mine. However, if a group consistently performs under expectations, we get punished. So with you, they’ll expect us to deliver much more than before. And no matter whose fault it is, the whole group gets equally penalized. The first time it’s 500 whip lashes for each one. We’ve gone through that already a long time ago. The second time they think you’re not meeting expectations---well, we’re going to see the sun again---because the punishment for that is being crucified. So, matey, a weakling like you actually lowers our chance of survival. We very well might die because of you, after having survived for---hmm--how long has it been, Ratty?” 


The Rat quickly replied: “It’s been 6 years for me, so about 9 for you.”


“So yeah, you see we’ve survived for quite a while now. And we’d like to keep it that way. That’s why we’re so unhappy to see you.”


“I-I haven’t been punished yet--- doesn’t that mean we all would get 500 lashes instead? A-also i-it’s not my f-fault. L-like I don’t w-want to be here!”


“No one does, matey! Or do you think we’re living the dream right now?” the Vixen said.


“N-no, of course not! B-but I-I just mean…”


“I know what you mean.--- Also no, we all would first get 500 lashes, so we have suffered your punishment, and then you’d get crucified with us, so our punishment is served---like I said a group gets collectively punished.---But---hm--- you’ve got quite the fancy package there between your legs, don’t ya?”


Ashamed, I tried to hide my genitals as they now both stared at them. 


“Matey, that’s not the place to be ashamed. Privacy and dignity don’t exist here, you’ll learn that quite quickly. But maybe we might have some use for you until you grow some muscles.” the Vixen’s expression remained stern, while the Rat suddenly showed a devious smile. Both concerned me. 


“Look, the thing is if you belong to a small breed like us, then this place is even worse than if you are let’s say an elephant. Everyone is angry and frustrated like we are. So--how to put it--well, quite blatantly the big ones like to rape us smaller breeds to let off some steam. It obviously hurts and costs us time. So if they used you instead, it would mean we can work more and harder. It won’t completely offset having a weakling like you with us. But quite frankly---not getting raped multiple times a day sounds like a dream by now.”


“W-what--that can’t be--you c-can’t be serious---”


“Look, matey, I’m quite serious! Whenever one of these assholes seeks for some relieve, you will offer yourself willingly. A weak boy with big balls, they’ll enjoy the oddity and likely accept. Males and ladies alike. Either this or we arrange some lethal accident for you! No one cares if a slave gets hit to death by rocks! Earn your stay or die. I’m not giving you another option, this mine is an evil place, you’ll learn that all too quickly. Don’t think I’m cruel, I just try to survive like everyone else and right now I’m scared. And quite frankly, we’re only asking you to do something we have gone through--what--like thousands of times by now?”


“B-but---”


“Yes, or no?” the Rat asked threateningly as he raised his pick.


I wanted to die, but at the same time, I didn’t want to. I hated everything here. I didn’t expect it to be fun being a slave, but how could it be so much more terrible than I feared? Reluctantly, but with absolutely no choice, I replied: “Y-yes!”


“Good matey, no go over there and start working. I don’t expect much, but everything helps, and you need to grow some muscles, maybe you survive long enough to become actually useful. At that point, we might even be willing to discuss our little deal here again.” the Vixen said before she continued to ravage the rock with her pick. 


“Uhm---if there is a punishment for working not hard enough---is there a reward for working extra hard?” I don’t know why I asked that. I just didn’t want to start working. I wasn’t ready. How could I be?


The Rat snorted. “Yeah, if you are 3 meters [~10 feet] tall, then there is. You get bathed and a day off in the brothel. But if you’re a small guy like us--- don’t even think about it. As far as I know, the smallest creature that ever earned this reward was an unusual big Bull. And he worked in a group with three Rhinos. That’s how it goes here. We small ones work like madmen because we’re always chased by the fear of punishment. The big ones work their asses off because they’re chasing the dream of the reward.”


“B-brothel---?”


Well, yeah, you know that place with whores and the sex---they have one here---and quite frankly, the slaves who are chosen to become whores are the luckiest bastards here.”


“M-my sister---is she maybe---”


“How would I know? Is she pretty? Has she tits as ludicrously huge as your balls? Then yeah, probably. But I don’t know, and neither do I care.”


The Rat, with a stern look, waved his head toward the direction I was supposed to work at, to signal me the definitive end of our conversation. Then he continued to hit the rock as well. I went there, the floor cold on my bare feet. Now that things have calmed down, I began to be terribly aware of the chilly air that wore on my nude body. The scorching desert outside already seemed like a distant memory. Less than an hour ago, I’d given anything to be out of the heat, now though, I almost wished to be back outside in the warmth.


I raised my pickaxe over my head and readied myself for the first strike. I hesitated. Hitting the rock the first time seemed like the ultimate surrender. The final confession that I now and forever will be a slave. If I hit that rock, I will admit that I’m ready to never do anything else in my life again. I’ll be a slave forever; hitting rocks; to never see the sun again; to never know joy again; trapped in a dark, cold place for the rest of my life. I don’t want to. I want to be at home. Making hats as I used to. Having my family around me. I’ll never see them again. When my pick hits the rock, hope will die.


With a loud clunk, my pick hit the rock. With an even louder clank, the pick fell to the ground, accompanied by my screams of pain. The hard impact bounced the pick painfully out of my hands, which hurt as much as my arms.


“Oh boy, really? Come on, you can’t be that weak. Don’t cry wimp, grab your pick and work. And this time, try to not drop it!” the Rat grumbled.


“W-why does no one try to run away? Y-you said it yourself here are barely any guards.” I knew they will get angry for asking that or trying to make conversation at all. But I needed to give my arms some time to recover from the piercing pain. I needed to play for time. Also, they hated me already, so whatever.


“Are you dense? We are in the middle of the desert. To the north rise mountains that can’t be passed. To the West, if you survive the 400 miles through the desert, an ocean. To the East and South, 500 miles through the aforementioned desert before you reach fertile soil. The water holes and cities are controlled by the Equines, as it is their territory. But let’s say you actually make it through the desert, then what? You’re still in Rakania. As I arrived here, it would have been still 800 miles to the next friendly border.”


“I-it’s more like 2000 miles now. The duchy of Senta has fallen, and so did the Kingdoms in the South---”


It took the Rat a moment to process that information. “Well, that should answer your question. There is no escape. You might get out of the mines, but you still will die. And if they catch you, it will be even more fun. At least if you like being the main attraction in the slowest and most painful execution, you can imagine!”


“He is right, matey. There is no escape from this place. But I warn you, don’t even think about trying something stupid. Punishments are collective, if you try to escape, we will suffer the same punishment as you! Now go back to work! That’s the only way to survive.” After that, the Vixen got back to work, and so did the Rat.


And so did I--more careful this time. At a pitiful pace compared to theirs. I barely scraped the rock. Yet I began to sweat like them. Forgetting the chilly air as my body heated up from the hard labor. One strike after the other. Monotonous work in a dark, cold place. Humiliated, broken, hopeless. A life in shame, pain, and misery. This would be my life until I die…