A Man Who Jingles

"Father, I'll do what is necessary for our family, even if it means I never see you all again."

"You are a brave son, Daniel. Today, you have become a man and will remain one, no matter what those monsters do to you."

Daniel met the intense gaze of his kid brother, Keith, and the tear-stained countenance of his mother. His father's face beamed with pride even as his eyes swelled with tears. Nervously, they all gazed at the door of the farmhouse, waiting for the inevitable knock which was sure to come.

The invaders had swarmed out of the east, astride powerful horses armed with weapons that Daniel's people had never encountered before and which had decimated his nation's army. Now, it was either peace on the invader's terms or total annihilation for all who remained in opposition.

Daniel's mother embraced him and cried on his shoulder for a time before being separated by his father. She continued to vent tears in her husband's strong arms. Daniel stood alone, nervously anticipating his uncertain fate. Like unanticipated thunder, a strong incessant pounding emanated from the door.

Daniel's father strode to the threshold and swung the door open. An emissary from his own people stood next to one of the tall invaders. Other invaders could be spied not far away on their impressive mounts. The man, who used to be the mayor of the invaded town, spoke in cowed whisper,

"Vincent. I assume you have heard the order of our new masters?"

"Yes, John, I have." replied Daniel's father in an equally subdued tone. "We shall obey. Be it noted that my brave son Daniel surrendered of his own volition. This family has complied with the edict."

"It shall be noted, Vincent."

"Let's get a move on!" barked the invader. "There are several more farms along this road. Surrender your tribute, NOW farmer!"

Without a word, Daniel pushed past his father into the misting twilight.

"To protect my family, I will go into captivity."

"Don't try to be noble, dog. We know it is fear that compels you." spat the tall invader. The figure gestured, whip clasped in hand, at a caravan of wheeled cages. "There is room for you in the trailing wagon. Get in or I'll flay you alive."

Daniel heard the pained scream of his mother, cut off by the closing of the door to the only home he had ever known, as he strode towards the wagon already brimming with young men. He vowed to himself that he would not look back. Instead he would focus on whatever hope he could find in his situation. The enemy was known to be ruthless and merciless however. Everything known about how they treated slaves instilled only fear. A soldier at the wagon frisked Daniel, confiscated his knife and forced him into the wooden cage with a straw floor. Daniel realized that his expression must mirror the glum countenance he encountered on his unfortunate companions. The wagon began to roll. A patrol of mounted enemy quickly surrounded the cage, eliminating the possibility of escape. The conquering enemy hurled down invective upon the occupants of the cage, openly brandishing their weapons in a threatening manner. Daniel heard the jeers and laughter of these intimidating women from the east and was chilled to the bone with fear.

The ride was long and boring, headed deep into enemy territory. At regular intervals, Daniel and his new companions were fed and watered. Daniel considered the men about him. Some of them still wore the remnants of uniforms, others were like himself, noncombatants destined for new lives as slaves in the eastern matriarchy. Some of the men had retained dice, others held playing cards. Unused to craps and unfamiliar with the card games of the soldiers, Daniel nonetheless paid rapt attention to the diversions to keep his mind off of other horrors. He had quickly learned to not stare at his captors, lest he draw their ire and violence.

What he DID observe were uniformly tall, beautiful, and powerfully built women in burnished armor. Their long hair was fixed in braided ponytails. Daniel imagined that they would be quite pretty but their countenances never wore anything other than intense, severe battle faces. Contempt for every male in the train of wagons was as obvious as the sun at noon. Aside from knots of activity around the cards and dice, the wagon was a eerily quiet. Daniel read the pained and chagrined expressions of the men who had once been soldiers. Daniel's nation had never know defeat. Now, like some waking nightmare, a people used to freedom had become a vassal state. Enslaving the vast majority of every able-bodied young men and soldiers was the conqueror's first act of subjugation.

After a trek lasting four days, the train of slave wagons arrived in a glistening city of stark white buildings and red brick streets. Even unsophisticated Daniel understood that this must be Hera, the capital city of the eastern matriarchy. Daniel had never seen larger or more impressive buildings. Once, he had accompanied his father on an errand to his own nation's capital city. At the time, Daniel had been awed by his capital's buildings and shrines, but now they seemed like a collection of outhouses in comparison to the current tableau. The wagons came to a stop before the largest building of all.

A significant cadre of cavalry formed a phalanx about the men as they exited the wagons. Trying to escape meant death. Every bit of bravery seemed to have been drained from Daniel and his fellow captives. The men allowed themselves to be herded into the huge building. Daniel assumed the building was some sort of rendering facility. He considered the possibility that these ruthless women would convert him into sausages but then realized that they would not have taken them all this far only to kill them. That act of mercy could have been performed days ago in the wilderness of the frontier.

Inside the building, Daniel heard running water. On a catwalk above them an intimidating looking woman bellowed into a megaphone, "Listen up you dogs! STRIP! To your skins and be quick about it!"

Not another woman had seen Daniel naked since he was a young boy, not even his mother. He dallied for a moment and then felt the sting of a whip across his back. Intimidated and terrified, Daniel quickly shed his clothes and left them in a pile on the floor. Armed women wearing bored expressions herded the men into the next room where continual showers and soap dispensed from hoppers in the ceiling soon had every man smelling fresh and clean, despite their several day's beard growth.

After their showers, the men were filed one by one through an exit. There, a woman applied a depilatory to the faces of all the men. The next woman wiped their faces with a towel and the third handed each man a tiny bit of fabric which barely concealed even the the least impressive example of manhood. Once clad, for lack of a better term, the men were directed to a long wall of holding cells. Most men were doubled up but Daniel ended up alone in his cage. Daniel thought about his family. As much as it stung, better he suffer the uncertainties of slavery in the matriarchy rather than his little brother or parents. He felt certain that his mother's grief over being parted from her oldest son was equal to his own. Had the government not declared him vital for farm work, Daniel would have been a soldier facing the invading matriarchy forces. He had come to adulthood just as hostilities had broken out. After intense discussion, Daniel had just about convinced his father to replace his name on the essential list with that of his younger brother when the war had come to its abrupt end. Those soldiers who had not surrendered immediately were dispatched with gusto by matriarch commandos. Daniel's people understood that a bad peace was better than a symbolic victory resulting in genocide.

The victors made rebellion an impossibility by simply abducting every able-bodied male of military age. Daniel's people would be cowed for at least a generation. While considering all this, feeling low, a pair of very pretty women with clipboards and other objects Daniel could not identify, centered themselves outside the bars of his cell. Whereas other men had hurled abuse at these women and threatened violence if they were released, Daniel greeted them with a quiet, "Hello." that was tinged with equal parts confusion and inquiry.

Daniel soon found himself in deep conversation with the women, answering their questions honestly and to the fullest of his abilities. They seemed to like his answers. The shorter, beautiful redhead seemed to be in charge, but the taller brunette seemed a near equal. Whatever menace there was in the matriarchy's armed forces was not present in these two women, who wore uniforms of some kind but were clearly not martially inclined. After a long period of conversation, the taller and darker of the women smiled at him and said, "Daniel, I think you have all the makings of a first class jingle man." The meaning of the words "jingle man" puzzled Daniel greatly, but he understood that, in some way the phrase portended good news, or at least a better fate than he had imagined.

After midnight, when nearly every other male prisoner was asleep, several guards came to claim Daniel. Warned in hush tones to be as quiet as possible, Daniel soon found himself outside the massive building, in another straw-filled wagon, with a collection of other captives. Even by the torchlight, Daniel could tell that that vast majority of them were young men like himself. All wore the same puzzled expression he did as the cart rolled silently off into the night.

Near dawn, they arrived at a smaller building. In short order, each was in a private cell. However, the amenities in this facility were much more to the liking of the enslaved men. Real beds with sheets and blankets, a small table and chair with an aromatic, savory, and still warm meat pie sitting on the table, ready to eat. The men were told to eat and then get some sleep. An older, still attractive, woman, who seemed to be in charge, told the prisoners in a strong voice. "A bit, and I emphasize ONLY a bit will be explained tomorrow. What I CAN tell you men is that you very much want to be jingle men. You have all, whether you realize it or not, entered an internship. If you pass, ALL of us, both you dogs and those in charge above you, will be very happy. However, if you fail, your lives become the most expendable of any slaves in the entire matriarchy and we will find some foul dehumanizing, mindless, and highly dangerous toil to occupy you for a few short months. You won't live longer than that. Keep that in mind, dogs! Good night."

The impact of the matron's words was immediate. There was virtually no conversation the rest of the night, The men devoured their pies then slid between the sheets of the beds and drifted off to confused slumber. Daniel was not at all sure he wanted to be a "jingle man," whatever that was, but he knew that he preferred being alive to being worked to death in some mine or some other hellhole. He was very sure that he would pay the utmost attention when the morning came.

None of the men had gotten much sleep before being roused from their beds and assembled in the main room for breakfast. The food was very good, the only real meal the men had had in days. While being transported to the capital city of the matriarchy, they had been fed just enough to keep hunger pangs at bay. Weakened men were easier to control and usually lacked the energy to plot and carry out escape attempts. Conversation was nearly nonexistent as the slaves savored their meals.

The Matron mounted a dais in front of the room and announced in her firm yet sweet voice, "Dogs, a jingle man, is quite obviously a man who jingles. Note that I used the term "man." You are NOT men. Only a male who jingles is considered a man by the matriarchy. Only a jingle man gets to be a father or has any kind of taste of freedom. EVERY woman and girl is superior to even the most famous jingle man, yet women of the matriarchy treasure their jingle men above just about anything, save our souls, our daughters, and our nation. Right now, each and every one of you is a dog, fit only to live off the scraps of the matriarchy, useful to labor and toil for your masters like sled hounds or terriers. Whether that changes or not, is entirely up to you."

The Matron paused, it was obvious she held every ear. "The process is not easy, but can usually be completed in as little as a few months time, IF you are obedient. To become a jingle man, you have to empty yourself of ALL male pride and vanity. You will come to naturally accept ALL women as your superiors and the innermost desire of your hearts will be to serve and comfort the women of the matriarchy. Selectors saw something in you dogs, signs that you could be molded into men. It is in your best interests to prove those selectors correct in their assessments. The matriarchy has found that one on one instruction, with a talented teacher, works best. At the conclusion of this meal, you will shower and try to look your best. At noon, each of you will be purchased by an instructor. As you learn, and prove yourselves worthy, your instructors will explain how you can all become jingle men. Since no two women use exactly the same approach, I can tell you nothing more. Please hasten to finish your meals."

As the Matron stepped down from the dais, Daniel turned to the slaves on either side of him. He read the same mystification in their eyes as was coursing through his own brain. Despite the Matron's explanation, not very much was cleared up at all. What he DID understand was that, in a few short hours, he was to be sold. Daniel had understood that he had lost his freedom nearly a week ago, but the idea that he was simply property to be sold, was only impacting him now. Daniel was fearful, yet also curious. Being a jingle man, even with its surrounding cloud of mystery, seemed better than the alternative.

The shower was very much like the one in the larger processing facility, save that , at the conclusion of their showers, no new garments were provided. Naked, each man was led to a stockade abutting the rear of the building. While soldiers leveled weapons at them, each man was then collared and leashed by a short tether to poles taller than a man. It was obvious to Daniel that the pole was buried quite deeply in the ground. Though he new it was fruitless, Daniel tried tugging at the pole with all his weight. The pole did not budge a millimeter and a soldier who had observed his efforts, laughed heartily in his direction. Only now did Daniel realize that it promised to be an exceptionally hot day.

The matriarchy military performed in its usual flawless manner. With almost no fuss, every man was soon lashed in place. The only ruckus had occurred when one man objected to being collared. The statuesque soldier closest to the rebel kneed him severely in the groin. While he gasped for air in a prone position, he was collared and tethered anyway. Point noted, there was no further rebellion.

The noon chimes rang from the dome of the central temple, the gate to the stockade swung open and through the entrance strode the group of women that would decide the prisoners' fate. Daniel felt fear at first, but apprehension quickly left him. Relaxed and in mostly civilian clothes, the women took Daniel's breath away. Most wore flattering dresses that revealed a great deal of shapely leg and clung to their bosoms like a second skin. Jewels glittered in their ears and on their fingers. Not wearing the mask of war, the beauty that Daniel had suspected was amply demonstrated. In their faces, that transitioned from serious to laughing as they engaged in conversation. Until that moment, Daniel had believed that the prettiest girl in the world was Mara, who lived three farms over and was only a year older than himself. Once Daniel had convinced Mara to step behind the barn and kiss. The two had engaged in a bit of passionate necking, Mara had felt very good in her arms and, instantly, her freckled face, tawny hair, and sweet aroma had become a permanent part of his consciousness. But when he had asked Mara for more and had tried to place his hand inside her blouse, Mara had slapped him and she ran away. After that, she refused to even talk to him. But now, Daniel saw Mara for what she was, an ordinary farm girl, these creatures approaching him now were women!

Some of the enslavers carried clipboards and milled with the purchasers as they inspected all of the restrained men. Three women, in turn, stood before Daniel. Daniel was too self-conscious to face these beings, he stared at the ground. One of the women forced Daniel's chin up with the palm of her hand. The beautiful blonde woman peered at Daniel and said, "This one's handsome enough, but I prefer something not quite so shy." She and the woman with the clipboard moved on. Again Daniel stared at the ground.

"What have we here?"

Daniel noted a pair of feet and lovely legs in his field of vision. Another female voice began relaying Daniel's details, his place of birth, age, height. Again, Daniel felt soft fingers on his chin. He raised his eyes. The woman appraising him was older, Daniel imagined that she was over thirty, still, she was staggeringly beautiful. She had the sort of face that Daniel had only ever seen before in museums or on his country's money. She had soft brown eyes and shimmering brown hair that cascaded past her shoulders and crimson lips above a firm, feminine chin. Daniel was awed.

"Now here is a handsome one!" the beautiful woman said to the cute, but much shorter, blonde with a clipboard, "The shyness tells me he's young and inexperienced, I can work with that. Who scouted him?"

"Willa Pine and Amy Poole." replied the woman with the clipboard.

"Really? Those two have a good eye."

The beautiful brunette spoke to Daniel as though she was talking to a small child. "Open your mouth, handsome, I want a look at your teeth."

Dumbly, Daniel opened his mouth. All he could focus on now was the beautiful face in front of him. When the woman was satisfied with her inspection of Daniel's mouth, one of her hands gently squeezed Daniels testicles and instructed him to turn his head and cough, just like the doctor used to do back home.

"No hernia, and he's obviously plenty strong nice equipment. I think I found what I've been looking for today. Even if he doesn't turn out to be that elusive keeper I've been seeking, I expect I can, at least sell him for a tidy profit when he jingles. Now Patsy, for the big question, How much is he going to cost me?"

The woman with the clipboard stated, "Well Sylvia, you know this is a speculative business..."

"Cut the crap, Patsy, we could haggle all day but it's damn hot out here! Give me a figure, I'll either laugh or cough up the cash, just don't yank my chain!"

"Well, he's listed for 1800..."

"You'll take 1550 or I walk away."

"Really, Sylvia he's worth more than we graded him."

"Patsy, you'll take 1650 and LIKE it!"

Patsy, the woman with the clipboard, took a long look around the stockade and chewed her lips for a moment longer before returning with,

"Sold. But my boss won't like it."

"That's not MY problem, Patsy. My end of this business is much more lucrative. I could train you to do what I do."

"No Sylvia, that would never work. I'd fall in love with my first one and then HE would run the show. This is better, ogle em. appraise 'em, and sell 'em."

"That's ONE way to look at it, Patsy. On the other hand, how much do you spend on jingle man rental every month?"

"That's NONE of your business, Sylvia! Just give me your money and get out of here!"

Daniel watched as the beautiful brunette woman, reached into her satchel and removed, a wad of paper money. He recognized the shield on the back of the bills. It appeared everywhere, including embossed on the armor, of his vanquishers. Inside his head, Daniel swore he heard a soft whimper, as he realized he had just been sold. The one called Patsy accepted the bills, and then presented her clipboard and a pen for Sylvia to sign. There were a lot of documents to sign, but at last, sour look still on her face, Patsy strode off.