Interdimensional milking 7 – Upping the quota
Recap: Max is a teenager from Earth in the distant future, who attends a boarding school where his seed is automatically harvested every day.
Each boy permanently wears an EV suit which contains a portal panel in the groin. Their genitals protrude through the portals to harvesting stations millions of light years away, where they are each milked many times a day.
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Interdimensional milking 7 – Upping the quota
“You fucking manj!”
Max looked for the source of the insult in the busy corridor. It was an older boy standing about 20 yards away, who was poking another similar aged boy in the chest. People were moving away from the source of the conflict.
“Don’t be a valve. What are you gonna do; fight me?!” the other boy demanded, with equal aggression.
Bryan grabbed Max by the elbow and steered him 180 degrees away from the conflict. Max frowned.
“What are you doing? We’ve got Social Tech in a couple of minutes.”
“We’re going to have to be late then. There’s no way we’re getting involved in a fight.”
“We don’t have to get involved. We can just walk right past.”
“Nah. Too risky. I can’t handle a Max at the best of times. And I only just got done with double green.”
“A ‘Max’, what do you mean?”
Bryan looked at him.
“You’ve never had a Max?”
“I dunno. What is it?”
“A max intensity milking.”
“Oh yeah. When I first got here, I asked for mine to last fifteen minutes. It nearly killed me the first three months!”
Bryan grinned. “Yeah, I made that mistake too. But, I’m not talking about your weekly hi intensity. That’s a level 10 stim. A Max is level 15. It’s totally unbearable. You lose your mind. Even after you squirt, they keep you tweaked up on full. A minute or two of that and you’re climbing the walls. And they keep making you jizz time and again, until your balls are empty. After ten minutes, you’ll be dry for a week.”
“Oh. Wow. That sounds pretty nasty. But what’s it got to do with them?”
Max looked over his shoulder in the direction of the fight. He could hear groaning.
“Well, the teachers aren’t going to allow fighting, but they can’t be everywhere at once. The implants monitor your brain, and when your serotonin level jumps, they automatically trigger a Max.”
“That’s pretty clever, but I still don’t understand why that affects us?”
Bryan stopped walking, and looked towards the fight. There was a tide of people walking briskly towards them, away from the conflict. The people flowed around them.
“What can you hear Max?” he asked.
“Groaning?” he offered.
“Yeah right, but not just those two. Listen closer.”
Max did as he was told. There did seem to be a lot of noise for just two people. He furrowed his brows.
“So, what’s going on Bry?”
Bryan turned and they rejoined the people moving away from the noise.
“It’s not just the two guys who were fighting. Any guys standing nearby get a Max as well.”
“That doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not a punishment. It’s just that when you see violence, your own brain chemistry goes nuts, and the implant picks up on that. Also, I suppose it’s a good way to make sure the fight doesn’t spread.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. And at least no-one gets hurt. So how long does it last?”
“As long as it takes for the Calmers to get here. Five, ten, fifteen minutes. I guess it depends how far away they are, and what they’re doing at the time the alarm flags. I once heard of a fight that started, when there was already another one going on, and the guys were on max for nearly 30 minutes. Apparently, they were never the same again afterwards.”
“Man, 30 minutes?” Max mused, “15 on 10 was enough to drive me crazy.”
“Right, and that was when you only jizzed once. Imagine doing it time after time. Now you know why we can’t go anywhere near.”
Max was aware of the gentle babble of voices around him as he paused eating his lunch, but his attention was elsewhere. He was in a room millions of light years away having his sperm drained like a farmer milks a cow.
The boys of Herschel Majoris had different responses to the milking process. Some ignored the rigid erection and the expert stimulation, and continued whatever they were doing in the knowledge that within five minutes, the procedure would be over, and their small donation of sperm would be joining the millions of litres that were collected daily from mostly-young males across the galaxy.
Some made the most of each and every milking, enhancing the experience with a five-minute sexual fantasy. It took practice and preparation to be able to switch into a sexual fantasy at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t as if a boy could plan something out in advance, because the moment he became even the tiniest bit aroused, the harvesting plant initiated a new milking cycle and he would be forced to give up more sperm.
Some boys managed it by returning to the same fantasy session after session; treating each milking like chapters of the same story. Others simply had such fertile imaginations that they could instantly produce a fantasy on demand.
Every boy at Friedrich Krupp High had a chip implanted in his brain that produced the illusion that he was being physically stimulated. The effect was utterly convincing, and at that moment, Max felt as though he was being expertly rimmed and fellated.
In fact, while he was being milked, the experience was physically indistinguishable from actual sex. The chip didn’t approximate sex; it sent signals to the cerebrum that were identical to the ones that a male would feel during actual sex: fantastic, highly stimulating sex, with multiple partners, each of whom was an expert at their specific task. But it went even further: the program specifically targeted the half dozen parts of the brain associated with emotional arousal and sexual excitement. The chip didn’t just make a male feel great physically, but as soon as the milking began, he was totally in the mood.
Of course, when a male was in the mood, the people around him appeared very different, and could easily be incorporated into a fantasy. It was only natural, and most boys did it sometimes.
Max learned that, early on in his time at Friedrich Krupp. Within a couple of days, he’d gotten used to seeing the vacant sex-faces of boys who preferred to be milked with their eyes open. They usually had a pretty dopey or vacant expression as they were milked. But Max noticed that some boys seemed to have intense stares rather than vacant expressions. He asked his roommate about it one lunch-time. He nudged Sam, and gestured towards a boy a few tables across.
“Hey Sam, what’s with that guy?”
Sam looked at the boy.
“Oh, creeper. Looks like he’s arping that kid he’s looking at.”
Max looked at the boy more closely, and followed his gaze. He was staring steadily at another teenager two table away.
“Arping?” Max enquired.
“Yeah R.P. – role play. He’s getting milked, and he’s imagining doing something with that other kid.”
“Oh, that’s kind of stalky. Doesn’t the other kid mind?”
“Yeah it is. That’s why I called him a creeper. To be honest, everyone sometimes thinks about someone else whilst they’re getting off, but it’s not cool to be so obvious about it.”
“So can’t the other kid do something about it?”
“I guess he could call him on it, but it’s not worth getting into a fight over. In a way it’s kind of a compliment, but most people are a bit more… stealthy about who they’re interested in. You know; less obvious. Most people get irritated by creepers, but you get used to it. Some people play up to it- especially the girls. I usually just ignore it or turn my back so they’ve got nothing to get off on.”
If they were milked during the school day, most boys, like Max, simply stopped whatever they were doing, closed their eyes and sat quietly waiting for the milking to be complete. As stimulating as the experience was, Max didn’t like fantasising during the day. He felt vulnerable; as though he might somehow start twitching or playing out his fantasies in a way that others could recognise. So, he just allowed his thoughts to float freely whilst he was being milked. Most of the time that meant that generalised sex thoughts floated in and out of his mind: old fantasies, girls he’d liked in the past, Brill, Sam, and anything else that he found erotic.
Often, he found his thoughts focussing on his own genitals; or more specifically, the place where his genitals spent most of their time – a harvesting station light years away. It felt narcissistic to be thinking about his own cock whilst he was milked, but the thought of the plant where he was being drained was just too erotic. He’d never seen the harvesting plant, and it was mysterious to him. The thought of millions of excited penises, each being milked or massaged was such a fascinating and arousing image that his mind was drawn there time and again.
Even now, as he felt himself ejaculating precisely five minutes after the milking had started, he wondered what his dick looked like in the place where it was being milked. Was there even enough light to see? How hard was he? How much had he squirted? Could anyone else see it?
Max waited another few seconds then opened his eyes as his light turned from green to red. He turned to rejoin the conversation with the other three people who were sitting at his table, but before he could say a word, a girl he barely recognised came out of nowhere and sat on his lap.
“Max!” she said, as though she was greeting an old friend, “It’s great to see you! You’re the Earther right?”
She draped her arms around his neck. Max looked around at the others bemused, his penis still hard.
“Umm, yes,” he replied, noncommittally.
She ground her buttocks against his groin, and hugged him tighter, wriggling provocatively in his lap.
“Do you mind if I check something out?” she asked.
“Errr, it all depends what.”
“This,” she said, then leaned forwards and kissed him slowly. Her mouth opened, and she pushed her tongue into his mouth, and started exploring the inside.
Initially Max recoiled with shock, but he didn’t want to seem like a prude with the other guys watching, so he leaned forwards and reciprocated. He wasn’t very good at kissing, but as her tongue slid over his, his body started to respond. The implant detected his renewed arousal, and immediately took over. His light turned green again. He moved his head away from the girl, and holding her shoulders, pushed her back, as he felt his still-hard penis being milked again.
“What was THAT all about?”
“Just carrying out a little experiment.”
She glanced at his green indicator light.
“Thanks for helping!” she said brightly, then she stood up and walked over to another table where her friends were sitting and giggling as they watched her return.
Max looked at his friends bewildered.
“Am I missing something?”
“Didn’t look like it to me,” Troye snickered.
Max was bewildered. He felt as though there was a joke that he was not getting. But he could also feel a tongue teasing his penis. It became increasing hard to ignore. He shook his head, then lowered it to his hands to await his second orgasm in fifteen minutes.
In the early 21st century, scientists had discovered that a male’s refractory time – the period of genital hyper-sensitivity just after an orgasm; and the amount of time before he was mentally interested in sex again, could be entirely eliminated using a drug called cabergoline. By the 22nd century, neurologists had figured out how to achieve the same effect using electrical stimulation of the brain’s D2 receptors. This meant that males no longer had to pause after an orgasm if they wished to continue intercourse. However, suppressing the refractory period did not eliminate the aching muscles in the penis or the cremaster muscles that control the rise and fall of the testicles, so after three or four orgasms, whilst a male could still be aroused, most found it extremely uncomfortable.
When the milking cycle was completed, Max quickly completed his meal and left the dining hall with the intention of going to his room. However, he was interrupted in the hallway by another girl.
“Hey you’re Max right?” she said approaching.
“Yeeesss,” he responded, ready to push her away if she tried to accost him.
“You’ve got a thing for Brill haven’t you?”
“Uh, what do you mean?” Max answered, still defensive about his attraction to another boy.
“You like him. More than like him, right?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Max admitted.
Now it was out, it didn’t sound so bad.
“Ah that’s cool. I wondered if you’d seen this?”
She held up a pad with another nude photo of Brill. This time it was a selfie taken in a bathroom mirror.
“Where did you get that?” he asked, starting to wonder if Brill spent more time naked than clothed.
“I can’t remember. I think Farren gave it to me. Brill’s really hot huh? It’s a shame he doesn’t like girls.”
She gestured on the pad and the image zoomed in with perfect clarity on Brill’s genitals. Max watched with growing interest.
“He’s got such a cute stick don’t you think?”
Max looked at the screen. Brill had an erection, and if it was anything to go by, he was feeling very horny indeed. His glans was shiny and glistening.
“I guess so,” he responded, trying to act casual. “But it’s his face I like best.”
“Yeah, he’s cute. Have you two fucked yet?”
“Excuse me?!” Max retorted, shocked at her forthrightness. “Who ARE you?”
“My name’s Zhena. You don’t have to answer if it makes you embarrassed.”
“It’s not a matter of embarrassed,” Max lied, “it’s just that I don’t talk about my private life with total strangers.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I knew you liked him, and I thought you’d be happy to see some pics of him.”
“I do, and… wait… did you say some pics? Are there more?”
Max was determined not to miss another opportunity to get some photos of Brill.
“Yah. I got a bunch. Would you like them?”
“Yeah, certs. But how do you even know me?”
“Oh, everyone knows about you. There’s not many Earthers on Herschell, and my friend Molly is in your design class. She’s friends with Troye, and he told her that Sam told him that you like Brill.”
“Oh,” Max said, mildly disconcerted by the chain of people that had led Zhena to him.
“What other pics have you got?” he asked, steering the conversation back on track in what he hoped came across as a nonchalant manner.
She tapped open a folder, then swished her finger above the screen so that the dozen or so photos of Brill filled the display. Max looked down at them. In the other photos, Brill was clearly being photographed by someone else, and he was in a playful mood. He was in various poses, acting like he was some kind of porn star. Max studied them with great interest.
“Your light’s on.” Zhena said.
“Your light’s green.”
Max looked at his light, realising that it meant he was going to get milked for the third time in quick succession.
“I only just finished a couple of minutes ago.”
He nodded, somewhat uncomfortable discussing it, and blood starting to colour his cheeks in blotches.
“Guess you do like Brill huh?”
“Yeah. He’s cool. Can I get all of those?”
She transferred them to Max’s pad with a few quick gestures.
“Thanks,” Max said and with an abruptness bordering on rude, he turned and started walking briskly down the corridor. “Gotta go.”
“Enjoy!” Zhena called cheerily after him.
“Thanks,” Max mumbled without looking back, “I will.” He started to jog.
Zhena walked off towards the dining hall grinning.
Max upgraded his jog to a run, sprinting for all he was worth, back to his room. He arrived with 2 minutes of the milking cycle left. He jumped onto his bed and lay there panting from the exertion. He quickly opened the folder on his pad, and browsed through the photos of Brill. He found one that he particularly liked. Brill was holding his testicles in one hand, and his hard penis in the other, and he was looking straight into the camera. He had his tongue out playfully, and his eyes were sparkling. Max stared at the photo, imagining that Brill was in the room instead of in a photo.
Although he only had two minutes to enjoy the fantasy, Max surrendered himself totally to it, staring intensely at the image of Brill on the screen.
Soon, he felt the program reaching its conclusion, and his body responding with the inevitable, and now welcome orgasm. However, just as he felt the familiar muscular contractions at the base of his penis, his Vone started vibrating. He ignored it, but it continued, insistently vibrating against his wrist. He continued trying to ignore it, but it had already brought him out of his fantasy. He pulled up his sleeve, and fumbled for the Vone and pressed the mute button but it was too late, the damage was done. His orgasm concluded, but he was no longer thinking about Brill.
Max waited until the milking cycle was fully completed, then he waited a bit longer so that his breathing returned to normal. He glanced at his wrist to see who the call was from. It was Stan. Max pressed the return button, and almost instantly Stan answered.
“Hey Stan. You called.” Max said flatly.
“Shorry, were you having a good one?”
“Your fashe ish red,” Stan explained.
“What do you want Stan?” Max asked, with rapidly increasing irritation.
“Oh, I wash wondering if we could short out shome time for that wreshling?”
“But I didn’t even shay a time!”
“I said I’m busy.”
Max hung up before the boy could say another word, annoyed at Stan for interrupting his fantasy.
He lay on his bed, frustrated at the intrusion, but feeling shitty for the way he’d spoken to Stan. He was disgusted with himself for the way he’d rejected the kid. He knew that the right thing to do would be to call him right back, apologise, and arrange a wrestle in the next few days, but he still felt irrational annoyance at Stan for ruining a really enjoyable fantasy. Max promised himself that he’d call him back later and put things right, but as it happened, he completely forgot all about it.
The following day was equally strange. It seemed that no sooner had he been milked, than someone would come up to him and do something to make him horny again, and it would happen two or three times in a row. The same thing happened the day after, and the day after that, until by the end of the week, Max was all-but certain that it was more than mere coincidence.
Whether somebody would show him porn, or a girl would press up against him in an erotic way, or some guy he barely knew would start a conversation about his favourite jack off fantasy, or any of the other almost sure-fire triggers that would get him excited, it just seemed that everyone’s sole purpose the entire week, was to keep him as horny as possible.
Finally, on Friday, back in their room, he raised the subject with his roommate.
“Hey Sam, I feel like all week people have been trying to make horny. Have you ever had a week like that?”
“How do you mean?” Sam queried.
“Well, it started on Monday, when some girl I didn’t even know starts tongue kissing me right after I was milked. Then another girl showed me these porn pics, then another one was getting all weird and rubbing against me, and some girl showed me her mams. And it just carried on like that all week. And the worst part was, it always happened just after I got milked. I’m starting to get paranoid.”
“Oh, sounds like they’re ramping you. It’s a game some kids play with freshers and new kids. They wait till you just greened out, then they make you horny again. It’s a like a challenge, to keep making you green again.”
Suddenly it all made sense to Max.
“Oh, that explains it.”
He thought about it for a few moments.
“And that’s ‘ramping’?” he asked.
“Oh no, that’s just tweaking. Ramping is when they keep on doing it all week. Remember I told you if you jizz more than four times a day, the quota goes up the next week? How many times do you think you’ve been green this week?”
Max thought about all the times he’d been tricked into getting milked.
“I dunno. Seven, eight times a day. Maybe more some days.”
Sam laughed heartily.
“Awww man, sounds like they got you good!”
“What do you mean?”
“Well from next week, that’s how many times a day you’re going to get harvested.”
“No way! I can’t go eight times a day indefinitely. My nuts are going to be totally shrivelled!”
“As long as you keep squirting, the harvester will keep taking!”
“Isn’t there anything I can do about it? What if I make a complaint to Nurse Janeway?”
“It won’t matter. If you CAN squirt eight times a day, the harvester will make sure you DO squirt eight times a day. But let me give you a piece of advice.”
“Don’t let them ramp you again next week!”