Breeding program

Forced milking

A young drifter finds that horses are not the only animal to be bred.

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Breeding program

Chance stood by the side of the stallion. The animal stood on its hind legs with its torso resting on the ghost mare. It leaned across the artificial mare, and clamped it with its front legs, its hard penis swaying in the air.

“Okay, Chance,” Frank Clanton said, “he’s more than excited enough. Get that AV on its pecker.”

Chance nodded and slid the long tube he was holding by its side-handle along the horse’s erect penis. It was lubricated and padded inside, prewarmed in hot water to a temperature the animal apparently liked.

As soon as the stallion felt its penis slide into the artificial vagina, he started thrusting enthusiastically, and in very little time, he was ejaculating into the tube. Frank watched its urethra pulsing, and when it stopped he looked across at Chance.

“Okay, he’s done. Take that off and let’s get that into the freezer, then you can wash his dick down and we can get on with the feeding.”

Chance removed the tube and tipped it vertical. At the end was a large latex tube, like a thick, oversized condom. The horse’s sperm poured into it, filling it.

“Must be at least half a pint,” Frank said. “That’s a decent load. Bet even you would struggle to make that much son.”

Chance grinned, wryly.

“Depends who’s playing with my dick!” he said, playing along with the old rancher’s joke.

“I bet it does,” Frank said.

 

Chance was a wanderer; a boy in his late teens going from ranch to ranch, taking work where he could find it. Sticking around for weeks or months before he got the urge to move on. He’d been at Frank’s ranch for 6 weeks now, but he was the wanderlust again.

 

Half an hour later, the stallion was returned to his paddock, and Chance and Frank stood by the barn drinking coffee.

“Hey Frank, I really appreciate the work and all, but I think it’s time for me to be moving on.”

Frank looked at him.

“Well, I sure am sorry to hear you say that. It’s been great having you around and all. You’ve been a great help. When are you thinking of moving on?”

“At the end of the week. If you’ve got anything important that needs doing, we’d better do it by then.”

“I gotcha son. Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to persuade you to stick around?”

“Sorry Frank, but I just get itchy feet and I have to move on. I don’t like putting down roots.”

“That’s a shame Chance. Are you running from something?”

Chance laughed. The thought of being a fugitive on the run tickled him.

“No, nothing like that. I just don’t like to get attached to one place for too long.”

Frank frowned.

“Something hurt you huh son? That’s a damn shame. Well I do have something you can help with. I was gonna leave it a while, but now I know I’m on a ticking clock, might as well make it now.”

“Sure Frank, what is it?”

Frank gestured to him to follow back into the barn. There was a large internal door. Frank opened it and walked through. Inside were all sorts of pieces of equipment. Chance looked around.

“Jeez Frank, what are you running here, a meth lab?”

Frank chuckled.

“No son, this is my advanced breeding room, where I work with the most valuable livestock.”

“More valuable than Chief?” he asked, referring to the ten-thousand-dollar Mustang they had just milked.

“Oh yes, much more valuable than him. Anyway, I’m going to need your help to move this pod,” he continued, gesturing to a large fibreglass cylinder that lay on its side.

It had a radius of 5 feet, and measured 6 feet long. One end was closed and rounded off like the top of a water tank, the other was open. It stood on a wooden palette.

Chance frowned.

“What’s that Frank,” he asked. “A water tank?”

“No, it’s a new type of experimental breeding pod I’m work on. I need it moved into the other barn. Can you help me load it into the tractor and we’ll get it moved?”

“Sure Frank, no problem.”

“Great, I’ll be right back.”

 

Frank went outside and a minute later returned driving a tractor with a claw attachment on the front. He carefully drove the tractor up until it was up against the palette.

“Okay Chance, can you stand on the other side and make sure it doesn’t roll off as I lift it?”

“No problem,” the burly 19-year-old said.

“Oh wait,” Frank said, as though suddenly remembering something.

He climbed down from the tractor and looked into the cylinder. Chance joined him. The inside had a flat inner floor, and there were 10 rings spaced at intervals along the floor at a width of three feet apart. They reminded him of runway approach lights. At the end was a circular aperture a little over a foot in diameter. The hole was ringed with padding.

“Do me a solid son, just scoot down and look through that hole and make sure I didn’t leave any equipment in there that’s gonna rattle around when we start moving her.”

“Sure.”

 

Chance measured five ten, average for an American man, so he had to bend over as he entered the cylinder. The aperture was 30 inches from the floor. He dropped to his hands and knees to look through it.

“It’s dark. Can’t see much Frank,” he said peering through.

“You’re sure there no electrical gear in there to the sides?” Frank said. “Be sure to have a good look around.”

Chance pushed his head through the hole. It was big enough with room to spare.

Frank pressed a button the outside of the pod and suddenly, the aperture contracted like an iris, clamping around all sides of Chance’s neck. He yanked his head back in shock, bashing the back of his skull on the side, but it was too late and he was already trapped.

“Frank!” he shouted in alarm, “it’s closed on my neck!”

“So it has,” the grizzled farmer said. “Can you pull your head out?””

“No, I’m completely trapped.”

“Try turning your head to the side.”

He watched as Chance complied with his suggestion.

“No, no way, I’m completely trapped.”

“Let me see if I can help.”

Frank entered the cylinder and Chance felt the man wrap something padded around his right wrist.

“Hey Frank, what you doing?”

“I’m just protecting you so you don’t get hurt while I try to get you free.”

Chance felt something else wrapping his left forearm.

“Dude! Frank! What are you…”

Suddenly he felt his left forearm being pulled towards the floor by the object that surrounded it.

“Jesus Frank, stop, what the hell?!”

He didn’t like to swear around the old guy. A lot of them were funny like that. Especially the Christians.

His right arm was pulled down to the floor. He struggled but he couldn’t pull his arms free of the restraints that wrapped around them.

“Frank, I don’t know what you’re doing but you’d better quit it right now. I’m not kidding.”

He felt something wrapping around his right leg just above the knee, then it was pulled out to the side. Soon after, his left leg was secured and pulled to the side, opening his legs to twice their standing width. He realised that he couldn’t rise from his knees now even if he wanted to.

“Frank, what the fuck are you doing? I’m not kidding. If you don’t set me free right now, I swear I’m gonna put you on your ass when I get free.”

Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his sack. Frank had kicked him between the legs. Chance grunted.

“Awww you old fucker. You’re fucking dead when I get free.”

Frank kicked him again harder, but there was nothing Chance could do to protect himself.

“Settle down son, there’s not a damned thing you can do, but I can keep kicking you in the sack all day and all night. Don’t matter none to me. Except I hate to ruin a good piece of livestock.”

“A good piece of WHAT?!”

“Livestock boy. Human beings. The most valuable livestock there is. Your sperm is worth a fortune on the black market.”

“Muh… my what?” Chance stammered, suddenly comprehending the gravity of his situation.

“Your sperm boy. Lot of breeders and scientists want what you got in those eggs of yours, and I aim to sell it to ‘em.”

Chance went crazy, shouting angrily, struggling against his bonds, and desperately trying to pull his head out of the hole in which it was trapped. After 45 seconds, it became clear that his struggles were achieving nothing whatsoever, especially with his forearms secured flat against the floor.

He felt Frank’s strong fingers pulling at his T-shirt, tearing it from the bottom and upwards across his back. The man tore the sleeves and Chance felt it pulled from his body.

“You’re a fine colt,” Frank said, patting the side of teenager’s muscled torso. “Your sperm will fetch a good price. I just hope you have the nuts to match. Nothing worse than a colt with small nuts. All that potential then it can’t squirt worth a damn!”

The man inserted a bowie knife, blade facing outwards down the back of Chance’s jeans.

“Stay still now son, I’d hate to accidentally cut your pecker off.”

Chance stiffened with apprehension, remaining deathly still as Frank drew the knife downwards, cutting through his waistband, and the seat of his aging boxers, slashing his underwear at the same time. Frank veered to the right, pulling the blade down the right leg of the jeans. When he reached the bottom, they fell away clinging just to Chance’s left thigh, revealing his privates. Frank cut the material apart on that side too, until the last of the fabric fell to the floor.

He stood back and appraised the boy. Chance had a hairy ass and legs, powerful thighs that matched his torso. Frank looked between them and there hung a large, heavy pair of testicles, hanging loose in a heat-softened scrotum. The farmer reached below and cupped them in his palm and Chance flinched as he felt the man’s touch.

“Easy son,” Frank cooed, “I won’t hurt you again unless you make me.”

Chance’s balls were still aching from the earlier kicks, and he had no desire for a repeat performance.

Frank closed his fist. The boy’s testicles were too large to close his fingers around.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I thought you were probably hung, but boy, that is an impressive set of nuts  on you there. You’re bull hung son. I’m gonna make a fortune off you.”

He lifted the testicles, and behind was a thick, four-inch loose-circumcised penis.

“Your pecker ain’t so impressive, but to be honest, that size don’t matter all in this business. So long as you got big nuts, a decent body, and you can cum on demand 100 times a day, that’s all I care about.”

“A hundred times a day?! I can’t cum that much in a week!” Chance protested. “I never even managed ten, and that’s when I was a horny kid trying it for a challenge!”

“Son, you’ll be amazed what you can achieve with proper motivation,” Frank said, and he gave Chance’s enormous testicles a friendly pat.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

 

Fifteen minutes later, Chance heard Frank return. Frank moved in behind him where he knelt, his chest low to the floor, butt raised higher and his thighs spread.

“Just gonna clean that hair off your nuts,” Frank explained.

“Why are you bothering to tell me. It’s not like I have any choice in the matter,” Chance snarled.

“Just a courtesy. Would you prefer I DIDN’T tell you why I was brushing cold grease onto your nuts?”

Chance considered the question for a few seconds before giving his sullen reply.

“I guess not.”

“I thought as much.”

Frank brushed white cream all over Chance’s scrotum with a shaving brush.

“This stuff just takes a few minutes then your hair’ll be gone for good.”

He pulled the slippery scrotum and dabbed the liquid over the remainder of Chance’s hairy groin, then up his treasure trail. He even took time to pull the teen’s ass-cheeks apart and dab his hole.

“Might as well get rid of it all,” he said.

“Why are you taking it off at all?!”

“It makes a tighter seal for the pumps. You know how it works when we milk the cows.”

Chance thought about the pumping pipes that they placed over the cow teats when they collected milk. They stayed attached by suction. With his pubes gone, he imagined similar pumps on his own dick.

“Also, makes it easier for the electric pads to stick to your nuts,” Frank added.

“Wait, what?!” Chance said in alarm. “Electric pads? What electric pads. We don’t use electric pads on the livestock.”

“Yeah, but we ain’t making them cum a hundred times a day neither,” Frank drawled.

 

Chance felt a light water spray playing across his buttocks. Frank parted his cheeks and washed away the depilatory cream and the withered remainder of the hair that had grown there. Then he washed away the cream and the hair from the rest of Chance’s genitals.

“There you go,” Frank said, “That was easy enough. Now let’s get your shit tube fitted.”

“My what?!”

“Your shit tube. It takes away your shit so I don’t spend half my life collecting it. It’s gonna be a bit tight going in, but it’s only once and it will be over soon enough.

Frank spread Chance’s butt cheeks and pressed a dome-headed, lubricated pipe with a two-inch diameter against it. Chance pushed back against it.

“I know you gotta fight back to prove your manhood son, but it’s going in either way. If you fight too hard, your hole is gonna tear, then you’re gonna be in pain for months.”

Chance considered the man’s words. Months?! How long did Frank plan to keep him here?

Chance was defiant and rebellious by nature. A violent and abusive father had made him determined never to accept shit from anyone, yet here he was in what seemed like an unwinnable situation where defiance would only hurt him. He forced his pride down and allowed his sphincter to relax.

“Smart boy,” Frank said.

He continued to push slowly and firmly and the pipe gradually widened Chance’s sphincter. Chance grunted.

“It ain’t gonna fit!” he screamed.

“It’ll fit,” Frank said. “It’s no bigger than a large turd.”

“No, no, it won’t. It’s tearing me, I can feel it!” Chance yelled, as his hole was stretched to its absolute limits.

Then it was sliding inside him, but he felt no instant relief at the sensation. His hole still felt as though it was stretched wide enough to insert a 2 litre coke bottle.

“It’s killing me, take it out, take it out,” the young man screamed.

“Oh quit being so dramatic,” Frank said. “It ain’t killing you. Give it a minute or two for your hole to get used to it and you’ll be fine.”

Chance had no choice, but his hole felt monstrously distended.

 

Frank twisted a dial at the end of the pipe and four metal petals that had formed the dome, retracted into the pipe, and it widened, filling Chance’s bowels, and giving his faeces nowhere to go but through the pipe.

Behind, Frank produced two small, circular adhesive pads. Each about an inch in diameter. A network of electrical filaments covered a circle in the centre of each pad, and a pair of wires emerged from each one.

Frank knelt and gripped Chance’s scrotum then pressed one of the pads carefully against the farmhand’s right testicle.

Although his hole was still burning, Chance said, “What are you doing now?”

“Electrical contact pad. Make sure that you stay horny.”

“Electric? You’re gonna fry me?”

“Of course not. Just a low voltage AC current. Enough to make you hornier than a rabbit in mating season but not enough to hurt you.”

He attached the other pad to the left testicle.

“Okay, let’s get you over with the others,” Frank said.

“Others?”

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough.”

 

Frank disappeared and soon after, Chance heard the sound of the tractor starting up. A few moments later, there was a heavy bump above him, followed by the sound of the tractor’s motors closing the claw, then the cylinder was lifted from the ground, and the tractor started moving. Chance felt the pod swaying as the tractor started to move. Frank drove for a few minutes before stopping. The cylinder continued swaying as the tractor idled.

Chance wondered what fate lay ahead of him. He assumed that he would inevitably get an opportunity to escape at some time. After all, Frank was just an old man. Chance was a former high school football player, with a powerful, muscular body. He was sure that he could easily overpower the man when the opportunity arose. He just had to be patient; not tip his hand until he was certain…

He felt the cylinder lifting again and the tractor briefly resumed its movement once more. Then the pod was being lowered. He heard it making a clonking sound as it settled into place. On the plus side, Chance consoled himself, at least his asshole was not stinging so badly, and the aching in his nuts had receded.

Frank entered the cylinder. He gripped the waste pipe that exited Chance’s behind and plugged it into a hole in the floor. It would feed the young man’s waste directly into a septic tank underground.

 

Chance’s head was in in the total darkness on the other side of the cylinder’s inner iris wall. With no other distractions, he was free to concentrate on every little thing his captor did to him, trying to work out by touch alone what was happening.

 

“Okay son, you’re gonna feel a prick on your stomach. I’m inserting a catheter so that you can pee without losing your boner. It’s gonna drain the piss straight outta your bladder from now on.”

Chance felt the man swabbing his belly below the navel with antiseptic, then there was a prick as Frank injected an aesthetic. He rubbed the area and counted to ten as the area numbed, then located Chance’s bladder with his fingertips. He made a small cut and inserted a guide device through which the catheter was fed and locked off. The entire procedure took less than three minutes from start to finish.

When he was done, he slapped Chance on the butt like a coach congratulating a player.

“That’s it, all hooked up. You’re never gonna have to worry about shitting or pissing again.”

Chance was conflicted. Every fibre of his body demanded an angry retort, or if he was free, a savage beat-down, but Frank had already proven that he was completely powerless to resist, and that the old man was more than willing to cause him brutal nut pain merely for giving him sass.

He controlled his instincts to say anything, unwilling to trust himself not verbally lose control.

Frank said, “Hmmm, playing the quiet man now huh? That’s probably for the best.”

He pushed a slider on the anal waste pipe and a small metal bump emerged from the side of the pipe inside Chance’s rectum.

“Tell me when I hit the spot,” Frank said.

Chance had no idea what the man was talking about, but Frank started to turn the pipe, first one way then the other, inserting it deeper and repeating the procedure, then pulling it out a little as he searched for Chance’s Gspot.

Chance let out a low sigh as the bump brushed past his prostate.

“Ah, is that it?” Frank asked.

With his left hand, Frank held a small 20ml glass beaker under the teenager’s penis, then he twisted the pipe left and right, repeatedly moving the bump across the muscular boy’s prostate. Suddenly semen started dribbling from Chance’s flaccid penis. Chance felt a new sensation. It was like an orgasm but without the pumping feelings or the ball and cock contractions.

Frank caught the ejaculate in the beaker, and continued twisting until there was no more semen.

He lifted the beaker and looked at the three quarters of an inch of cream in the bottom.

“Not a bad load for your first prostate milking. 7 mils. I’m sure you’ll manage 15 or even 20 when we start pumping it outta you. Speaking of which, let’s get you hard.”

 

Frank produced another wire, with a small push plug at each end. He plugged one end into an angled socket on the side of the butt pipe, then connected the other end into a small wall socket next to the two testicle wires. He pressed a button on the wall and Chance immediately felt a tingling in his prostate. This was different to the massage he’d just received. It was more arousing; MUCH more arousing. His dick started to respond.

He got hard easily enough normally, with the right woman to turn him on, but this was new. He could literally feel the blood pumping into his dick, pulse after powerful pulse. In no time whatsoever, his dick was rigid between his legs, straining up towards his belly.

Frank moved the waste pipe to the side, and reached up and pulled Chance’s penis backwards so that he could see it. It was not an attractive penis; a bit too lumpy, and greasy brown-looking. The kid probably had some Mexican in his blood accounting for his lustrous dark hair and attractive black eyes, his golden skin, his brown dick and his dark brown nuts.

His penis was a solid seven inches long, and a decent thickness. But its most defining feature was its glans. It was enormous, swelling out of the shaft like a shiny plum on the end. It has a diameter more than half as wide again as the shaft it topped.

“Hell of a dickhead you got on you there boy,” Frank observed. “Course, the stim is showing it off at its best, but even so, you’re quite the stallion.”

 

Chance knew his dickhead was impressive. And it did things to the ladies. He had reduced more than one girl to a quivering mass of jelly since he’d first started fucking at the age of 13. But this was not a situation where he was grateful for admiration.

 

Frank lubed the fingertips of his right hand, then reached up and gripped the swollen head. It was already so hard that it shone, but Frank twisted his fingers over the end as though he was unscrewing a bottle cap. Chance’s inner thighs trembled at the touch, like a frightened foal caught in a fence.

“Feels good huh son? Then you’re gonna love this next bit. You’re familiar with the milking clusters ain’cha? Well, I got a special one for boys like you. I think you’re going to love the improvement.”

He slid a vacuum cup along Chance’s penis. It was designed to accommodate male livestock of all sizes from three inches upwards. Chance felt something warm and slippery enfolding his glans. The neck of the cup had a rubber seal that gripped the shaft of his penis a few inches along, forming an airtight seal as his glans moved into place.

“Okay, ready for a trial?” Frank asked.

“No,” Chance replied sullenly.

“Ha, ha. Well here it comes son, ready or not.”

Chance suddenly felt an almost unbearable excitement in his balls as the electricity in the pads activated. His massive balls tried to climb back into his stomach, and the pads rose with them.

At the same time, the prostate stimulator was giving him a feeling of excitement deep in his bowels that he’d never experienced before today.

His dick was straining so hard, pressing up against his stomach now that Frank had released it. The pump started sucking and releasing, sucking and releasing, alternating the suction on his dick like a calf sucking on its mother’s teat. And inside, at the end, soft, lubricated rubber pads were moving in small circles, rapidly polishing the sides and top of his glans.

Chance let out a long deep moan of pleasure. He simply couldn’t help himself. It was a throaty groan of primal sexual elation.

“Ooooooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

It lasted fully 10 seconds before he had to stop and inhale. Then the moan was replaced by a series of long grunting noises. Chance’s brain was not designed to cope with such expertly delivered sexual pleasure. In a flash of insight, he suddenly realised that every sexual experience up until this moment; every wank, every fuck, every blow job, were all just pale shadows of the ecstasy his body was capable of feeling. Of the ecstasy he was feeling now.

Then his power for rational thought was gone again, washed away under the tides of euphoria radiating from his ass and groin. He squirmed his pelvis as much in an instinct to increase the pleasure, as in an desire to draw away from something so overwhelming that it threatened to incapacitate his mind as his body had been incapacitated.

He came, ejaculating powerfully, despite his recent prostate milking, producing a river of semen, and it was pumped away. He thrust his hips in a series of staccato movement instinctively designed to increase his penetration of a female who was not there. Chance discovered that it was not just stallions’ bodies that could be tricked into fucking an absent female. He was aware that he was air humping but he couldn’t stop himself, as his body’s biological programming negated his conscious mind.

 

And then it was over, and the pleasure of the glans polishers turned to discomfort now that he had achieved the release his body yearned for. Now, rather than thrusting, he drew his pelvis backwards, trying to withdraw his penis from a pussy that moved with it. And still, it sucked and polished, and his balls and prostate tingled, no less aroused than before.

“Oh Goooood,” Chance said, calling out to a deity he didn’t even believe existed. “Turn it off, Frank, for fuck sake turn it off!”

“Yeah, bit sensitive now huh? Don’t worry, you’ll get used to that. Probably. Soon you’ll have nuts the size of udders and you’ll be able to cum near-constantly. Anyway, I have one more surprise for you.”

Chance squirmed, desperate to move his helmet away from the polishers. The sucking he could deal with, but the direct contact on his glans was almost unbearable after such an immense orgasm.

Then he could see light. The front of the cylinder was being removed, and he saw that he was in a large room. A high-tech metal barn. And there were dozens of other cylinders there; some beside, and others opposite him, in two rows.

And from each pod, a male head emerged. At least half a dozen of them looked considerably younger than Chance, and at the far end, a couple of them, looked much older, in their 30s and 40s; maybe older still.

All bore expressions somewhere between ecstasy or discomfort according to the stage that each was at, in his milking and orgasm cycle.

All thoughts of escape evaporated from Chance’s mind, as he looked at the other livestock that Frank had acquired, presumably over the course of many months or even years.

The other males glanced at the latest addition to Frank’s milk farm, knowing that he would be with them for a lonnng time.

Frank addressed the males nearest to Chance’s cylinder.

“Hey boys, this is Chance.”

They were all too involved in their own milking to acknowledge his arrival. A boy opposite who looked too young to shave, suddenly started to pull a series of ugly faces.  Chance wondered why the kid was being a punk. Then he realised that he was undoubtedly experiencing a powerful orgasm. He wondered how many the kid had already had that day. But even at his wildest estimate, he would never have guessed a high enough number.

Then Chance felt his own discomfort turn to pleasure again, and he knew that there was nothing he could do to prevent another orgasm. Or another. Or another.