Never piss off your saviour

Milking, humiliation

A young man is relentlessly milked

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This is my reimagining of an iconic scene in Harland Ellison’s famous science fiction short story “A boy and his dog” which was depicted in the 1975 movie of the same name. He never went very far in his story, so I went further. Forgive the exposition in the introduction, but I thought it was the quickest way to set the context without rewriting entire chapters of Ellison’s book. It does NOT follow his text faithfully.

Never piss off your saviour

Vic lay secured to the gurney asleep in the pitch darkness. He was not in a comfortable position; far from it, but his exhaustion ensured that he all-but passed out when they had finished with him for the day. His arms were immovably strapped to the sides of the bed, but that was not the source of the discomfort. His knees were also strapped to its sides, spreading his legs wide, and his shins, extending straight down from his knees, were similarly secured. His captors cared nothing for his modesty or comfort – their sole objective was to drain as much semen from him as his body could produce, and it was a plan that they had mercilessly executed.

Earlier

Vic wandered across the yellow, arid post-apocalyptic wasteland in his endless search for food or other humans. Other people were scarce, and he always approached encounters apprehensively. He had learned from experience that many wanted to eat, enslave or rape him. As a teenager armed with nothing but a single-shot .22 squirrel rifle, his capacity to fight back was extremely limited. He’d been on the auction block before, and just as he was starting puberty, had once spent three months as the sex toy for a raider colony, getting his soft asshole reamed a dozen times a day, and sucking every dick that was presented to him. It was only his guile that had enabled him to escape both of those situations, but he had no intention of ever repeating them.

Those experiences taught him to approach each new encounter with tremendous caution, scoping them out first, and avoiding them entirely if they appeared in the slightest bit risky.

But this time, it was his dick that led him astray. At 16, he was constantly horny, and he masturbated several times a day to the carefully-folded photo he carried with him. It had been torn from an old porn mag.

He had not even been born when the cataclysm occurred and his parents were now gone. His father was killed when he was barely old enough to walk, and his mother had been taken by raiders when he had not yet started puberty.

He managed to find a larger colony that protected him, but things quickly devolved as the food ran low, and he quickly discovered that he was a burden that the adults were not willing to bear without him giving something in return.

He first encountered the Dwellers when he saw a young woman called Quilla, who was collecting soil samples. She was accompanied by an armed man. Vic watched them for 15 minutes through his monocular, his dick painfully hard in his pants at the sight of her. She looked clean, and wore a dress,. The women Vic occasionally spied, didn’t have much need for dresses, much less impractical, pretty floral ones. Both figures had their faces painted white with rouge circles giving artificial colour to their cheeks.

When he assessed that this woman posed no obvious threat, he approached cautiously, and after some hesitant long-range exchanges, particularly with the man accompanying her, Vic approached, and was soon astonished to discover that they were part of a colony that lived underground. They led him down through a metal hatchway that opened onto a ladder, and then a long rectangular set of metal stairs in a vertical tunnel carved down through two hundred yards of solid rock, emerging into a vast dome carved beneath the earth.

A few hours later, Vic was introduced to the Fathers; they invited him to join them for food, and while he ate ravenously, they questioned him at length, about the world above. He answered their questions as best he could, and his answers affirmed their worst fears about the state of society above, confirming that their policy of isolation was still justified.

They also explained to him, that despite burying their settlement so deeply, the radiation had made all the males all sterile, and the settlement was destined to slowly dwindle and die without someone to impregnate the young women with healthy sperm.

Vic’s eyes widened at the possibility of fucking the young female citizens of the colony. He’d never had sex, but he dreamed of the possibility.

The council leader, surmised that Vic might be fertile, having been born after the cataclysm. Doctor Moore told him that they would need to examine his sperm to ensure that it was healthy.

Encouraged by Quilla, Vic eagerly agreed to go to their medical centre, which lay in a converted church, in order to provide a sample. He arrived at the centre, only to discover that his boner had led him straight into another trap…

The present

A light turned on, illuminating the darked room. It was a back room in the church, converted into a laboratory. For the past two weeks, Vic had encountered an endless stream of young couples hoping to start families, and each couple was provided a vial of fresh Vic semen, harvested while they watched.

Despite his exhaustion, Vic’s eyes opened almost immediately, and he looked towards the door at his feet, expecting to see the doctor. Instead, Quilla entered the room, quickly closing the door behind her. She raised a finger to his lips to shush him.

“What are you doing here?” he asked resentfully, ignoring her gesture.

“I came to rescue you,” she replied in a low voice.

He frowned. She was the one who had tricked him into this situation in the first place.

“Why would you do that?”

“I never wanted them to do this. I thought they would let you do it the natural way, but if I didn’t play along, they’d have made it far worse for you, and I would never have got near you again.”

Vic looked at her sceptically.

“In that case, quick, get these things off my arms so I can get outta this crazy place.”

“I will but…”

She glanced between his legs. A raised frame, draped in a blue cotton sheet covered his groin. She smirked.

“You’ve got a small willy.”

It had been years since Vic had seen another penis, and he’d assumed that his slug was normal.

“No, I haven’t!” he protested.

She moved where she could see clearer.

“It’s not even two inches,” she said smirking. “That’s tiny.

Vic pursed his lips into a tight puckered oval and he blushed furiously now. He’d never had cause to even consider its size before, much less to care, but now in front of this attractive young woman, he suddenly felt humiliated.

After a while, he angrily said, “What does it matter. Just get these damned straps off me.”

“Okay, okay, no need to get shirty.”

“You’d get shirty if you just spent the last two weeks getting your nuts drained.”

“How many times did they drain you?”

“I don’t know. Whenever some woman wanted a kid. Doc Moore marked them off on the board over there.”

He nodded towards the blackboard on the wall behind her. She turned to see that there was a list of names, each with a cross through. She quickly counted them.

“45 times. Wow, that’s quite a lot in two weeks. It’s lucky you’re so healthy.”

“That’s not two weeks, that was just yesterday.”

“45 times in ONE DAY? Oh gosh. That’s nearly 50.”

“No shit. Can you set me free now?”

Quilla looked between his legs again.

“What are those metal loops on your balls?”

“Fucking fuck!” he said in exasperation, “This isn’t the time. Can you just set me free, I can answer your dumb questions on the way outta here.”

“Hey, no need to be rude. I’m here to help remember.”

“Then help by untying me.”

“Answer my question first,” she said stubbornly.

Vic sighed deeply.

“Doc Moore said they’re electric. They make my balls work harder.”

“Are they on now?”

“Yes.”

“What does it feel like?”

It took all of Vic’s patience to suppress another outburst.

“It’s like a kind of tingling feeling in my balls. Like I’m just about to squirt.”

“Is it nice?”

“It would be if I had any choice, and it didn’t go on all day and night. Now it’s just frustrating.”

She looked at his tiny dick again with a smirk.

“How big does your willy get when it’s hard?”

“I never measured it,” he replied truthfully.

“Let’s find out then,” she said, and she flipped on a switch on a portable control box between his legs.

“What? No. Why would you do that? I thought you were here to rescue me not to mess around.”

A metal dildo in his ass instantly switched on. Within five seconds he had an achingly hard boner.

“Wow that was fast. It’s not that much bigger. Three inches. Four at most. And it’s thin.”

He glowered at her.

“Your balls are shaking.”

“No shit,” he said, only too well aware that his testicles were now being shaken between the metal tongs.

“What’s that for?”

“It shakes the juice out of me.”

“How long does it…”

She was interrupted as the pipe exiting his penis filled with squirts of white. It was sucked along the pipe and dropped into the top of a vial, the diameter of his little finger. His semen started with a small dribble, then several larger pumps half filled the tube. Quilla watched fascinated. When he had stopped squirting, she disconnected the small tube from the pipe and held it up in front of her face.

“So this is what your semen looks like.”

The liquid within was creamy but thin, and semi opaque. She could feel its warmth through the glass.

She showed it to him but he was growing increasingly outraged as she milked him to satisfy her curiosity.

“Look, you bitch, will you fucking well turn that off and set me free. It’s your fault I’m in this mess!”

She looked at him, angry herself now.

“No, it’s because you were desperate to get laid, as if any girl would want that stupid little thing inside her, let alone a grown woman like me!”

“Are you going to stand there ragging me until you get caught, or are you going to set me free you stupid bitch?”

“I’M stupid?” she said. “At least I know better than to insult my rescuer until I’m free.”

She walked back to the foot of the bed.

“Oh look,” she with exaggerated surprised, “this is only on quarter speed. I wonder what happens if I turn it up to half?”

“No DON’T!” Vic said in an urgent panicked voice. “Please. I’m sorry. I’m just sick of being milked like some kind of cow.”

“You don’t milk cows like this you stupid little boy. That’s bulls. Anyway, you look more like a frog on a dissection table with your silly little willy. Bet you wish you could close your legs huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do, please, I’m sorry, please Quilla, this is not fair!”

She turned the dial up to half, and the shakers doubled in speed.

“Ahhh, ahhhhh, noooo, please!” Vic groaned. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

He came immediately, but this time it was deposited onto the metal medical tray.

She grinned at him and walked up to the blackboard, and added another two ticks.

“Hmmm, 47,” she said. “Let’s try for 50. Maybe that will improve your attitude.”

With his legs splayed apart and his nuts vibrating as if they were in a centrifuge, he felt desperately horny.

“Tell you what, if you don’t squirt for five minutes, I’ll let you go.”

“It doesn’t work like that. I can’t fight it. I’ve got no control. I’m horny then I’m squirting. There’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“If you say so, but if you don’t try, you’re there till you hit 50.”

He started panting. Normally, on the rare occasions he wanted to delay an orgasm topside, he’d contract his abdominal muscles, stop masturbating and suck his testicles towards his body, but the shakers were pulling his testicles downwards, and the constant vibration made it impossible to maintain contraction. He tensed his lower abdomen, but it was as though the vibration was short-circuiting the signals between his brain and his testicles, and nothing he did diminished his arousal.

Quilla grinned and looked at her watch.

“45 seconds,” she said.

Vic grunted at the effort, and squirmed, moving his groin the tiny amount that he was able with his knees spread so wide.

“Please don’t Quilla,” he begged.

“This will teach not to go calling people names. 75 seconds.”

“I can’t. I’ll never make it.”

“Try harder. Oh.”

Even as she spoke, his third load in 10 minutes was forced from him. He let out a strangled, whining sound, as his body confirmed what he was certain of; it was literally impossible to withhold his orgasms as long as the machine shook his testicles.

“Oh well, 50 it is then. That’s 48. Should be easy enough.”

“Bitch,” he spat under his breath.

“What was that?”

“What?” he asked in a childish pretence at innocence.

“I tell you what little boy, why don’t you try for 100? Hell even 200? I’m gonna leave you now. I’ll be back in a week or two. That should give you enough time to improve your attitude. I expect they’ll turn this off when they find you in the morning.”

She turned the milker up to maximum and the movement of the testicle shakers turned into a blur.

“No!” Vic grizzled desperately.

Quilla walked to the door and turned off the light, then she left the room…

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