The wrong guy – story – part 1

Forced milking, humiliation

A young man living on planet Herschel Majoris discovers that his horniness has its limits.

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The wrong guy – A stand-alone interdimensional milking tale – part 1

“Why would you want to go on a tour there?” Kim asked.

His best friend Vash shrugged.

“I dunno. It’s just interesting. Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like inside a keep?”

Kim thought about the local prison. It was singularly unappealing to him.

“No, not really. And don’t you have to be 21 to go on the tour?”

“Yeah, but it’s easy to get your creds modded. Anyway, it’s better than classes. I’ll comm you when I get home.”

“Okay, well have fun.”

That was the last time Kim saw or spoke to his friend.

 

Sec suggested that Vash had simply run away from home, but Kim knew better. Vash was happy with his life. He was doing fine in his studies, and he was deep into a VR threesome with a guy and a girl on the Overnet. He was especially looking forwards to a trip his family was planning to take to the Slush Forest resort – two weeks of activities with every kind of sex stim a teenage boy could imagine. According to Vash, his parents would play it safe; slush sailing, eating and drinking, and maybe just the occasional sexage or virtu porn, but Vash planned, to try out every possible sexual recreation the resort had to offer: blob suckers, Hylian pleasure droids, worms pits, and of course, the famed low-G orgasmic slush pods. Kim had smiled as his friend had excitedly described his plans. To hear him tell it, Vash planned to spend the entire fortnight boned up, getting sucked, stroked, probed and milked. It was a horny teenager’s dream, which was why the resort was so popular. It was like a sexual version of the old Earth Disneyland for boned up teens.

Kim had laughed loudly when Vash told him, “I’m gonna shoot so many times my balls are gonna be like peas when I get back!”

But he never got the chance. His plans were interrupted by whatever had happened and he had not been seen since.

 

After he’d been missing a couple of days, Kim told his friend’s parents about the planned visit to the local keep. They passed the info onto sec, and the keep confirmed that Vash had indeed been part of the tour group. But after leaving, he’d dropped off the face of the planet. Unlike the high-tech cities of Herschel Majoris, the citizens of the Regulus tract were not chipped, so there was no easy way to track them once they had passed from the field of the sec-cams.

 

 

Three months later, Kim shuffled around with a tour party as a man who’d identified himself as “sub-keeper Halloran” lead the group around the keep. He was hoping that if he followed in his best friend’s tracks, he might glean a clue as to what had happened to him. The first warning sign had happened before the tour began when their guide met them the collection point, which was over a mile from the keep.

“You’ve doubtless already noticed that your vones and other comm devices no longer connect to the Overnet,” the man said in the peculiarly-inflected English accent of Regulus citizens. “This is a security precaution to ensure that our residents cannot communicate with anybody to organise any unscheduled “vacations.””

 

Kim looked around. He had to admit, the tour was more interesting than he’d expected, although he couldn’t help but feel a lingering guilt gawping at the ruffians (as the inmates were called), as a source of entertainment. He’d seen the booking area, even watched a couple of self-conscious new ruffians stripped naked and forced to shower before moving on to their new lives. They’d seen the main living area, and the gym, and the exercise hall. In many ways, the ruffians had good lives – except for their lack of freedom.

 

“Okay, this next section is very different from the rest of the keep,” their guide informed them. “The residents here are only with us for three to six months, and they are all here for low-score sexual offences. Unlike the other inmates, they are not free to wander around the facility. They spend their entire time in restraints.”

The sub-keeper waved an ID badge at the wall and the nanodoor dissolved. He led the tour group through. On the other side, was a wide corridor stretching over 100 metres. On both sides, naked males were suspended from the walls, hanging on metal frames. None of them appeared to have arms or legs, and their limbs were cut off just below the shoulders and hips, with metal discs pressed tightly against the stumps. Each of them was squirming, either in discomfort or pleasure; Kim could not tell which.

 

“Welcome to the barn,” Halloran said.

“The barn?” a woman asked.

The sub-keeper grinned.

“Sorry, it’s an in-joke. In the old days, they used to milk cows in a barn. As you can see, we’re collecting a slightly different kind of milk here.”

“My goodness,” the woman said. “That looks extremely… intense.”

“Yes, I’m certain the rascals would agree with you there. And before you ask, this wing houses our minors; juves; 21s and under. They are given the collective designation of “rascals” to differentiate them from the adults.”

“It sounds almost playful,” the woman observed.

“Yes, and in a way it is. After all, what juve does not enjoy tugging himself every chance he gets? The boned up rascals!”

The group laughed at the truth of their guide’s comments. None of them noticed as he glanced in Kim’s direction. But Kim did. He swallowed uncomfortably.

“But here, the experience is considerably more; what was the word you used? “Intense.” Yes, I can guarantee that our devices are orders of magnitude more intense than their fists when it comes to stimulating them.”

As they passed dozens of rascals, Kim could see that their penises appeared exceedingly hard.

 

“What’s happened to their arms and legs?” another visitor interjected with a shocked tone.

Halloran led the group and they stood in a semi-circle around a pair of inmates who hung 6 feet apart on the wall. He gestured towards one of the metal discs.

“Portals,” he explained. “Their limbs are in a storage area elsewhere.”

“Are they still connected?” the questioner persisted.

“Oh yes, absolutely. When they’ve served their sentence, they’ll be able to walk out of here. In fact, they may even be a little stronger than before. They all have therapads on their limbs, which keep them well exercised in order to prevent muscle atrophy.”

“But why are they held like this?” someone else asked.

“Excellent question. They are being sexually reprogrammed so that their urges will be under control. As you know, the Human Expansion program mandates the collection of semen from all capable males up to the age of 21 in high tech cities.”

He glanced again at Kim. The glance lingered just a little longer necessary and Kim was certain that there was a sub-text in the brief look.

 

“Here in Regulus, it’s not required, and we don’t really want to be creating colonies based on the genes of sexual deviants – even low-scores; but the rascal’s semen is still valuable for commercial uses.”

“What kind of commercial uses?”

“Oh research, pharmaceuticals. I hear that some aliens even like to drink the stuff.”

One of the women screwed up her nose in distaste. The male with her whispered something in her ear and she blushed and sniggered.

 

Kim stared at the two males hanging in front of them. They both had erections and there was an array of equipment attached to their genitals, moving, stimulating, milking. From his slightly side-one angle, he could see a piston inserted into each their bottoms.

They both wore some kind of headsets, and gags were plugged into their mouths and strapped into place. Kim looked up at their faces and tried to guess their ages. The one furthest away was dark-haired but he had rosy cheeks with just a trace of vellus hair. Beneath what remained of his arms it was smooth. The other boy looked even younger. Both of them were squirming and intermittently moaning in high-pitched voices.

“How old are they?” a man said, asking the question that Kim wondered.

“I don’t know off-hand. They could be any age that would be suitable for the expansion program,” the sub-keeper responded.

“So young?” a woman with the original questioner asked.

“Yes, Authority decided that sexual deviancy is best tackled as soon as it arises.”

“And are those VR headsets they’re all wearing?” another man asked.

“IR. Infra-reality. It projects scenes directly into their brains. They are fully sensory. They can’t shut them out.”

“What are you projecting?” a man asked.

“Homosexual sex scenes featuring males approximately their own age.”

“Why on Herschel would you do that?!”

“Because they are here for inappropriate sexual behaviour towards females. The easiest way to eliminate that is to redirect their desire for sex towards members of their own sex. And it could be worse; we could be retargeting them towards rectyne monopods!”

It was a very inappropriate joke, even in the sexual liberal 24^th century. A rectyne monopod was a  dinosaur-like wild animals that roamed the halflands. The party chuckled uncomfortably.

 

Both young males wriggled constantly as Halloran spoke, but suddenly, the older looking boy squirmed violently, and the tube connected to his straining penis was filled with white as ejaculated in a series of long spurts.

“Their, errr, testicles, seem rather large for juves,” a man commented.

“Well spotted,” Halloran said. “Yes, their pebbles double in size each month they are with us. It’s a side-effect of our process, but it also increases the pleasure they feel, and of course, massively increases the amount of semen that each of them produces per day, and with each orgasm. After a six month stay with us, the rascals are capable of delivering between one and two litres of semen.”

There was an audible gasp of appreciation among the audience.

 

Kim tried to estimate the age of the younger boy. The juve was skinny, and he barely had pubic hair. He had a slender stick, but his nuggets were at least twice as big as Kim’s own and as big as those of any performer he’d seen in the holos.

“Do they know we’re here?” Kim asked.

“Oh yes, most certainly. They can hear us talking can’t you sibs?”

He patted their bare tummies, and their moaning intensified in response.

“Don’t they um, find it embarrassing; being naked in front of everyone?” Kim pressed.

“Most do, especially the first month, but that’s none of our concern is it? As long as they are with us, the rascals are nothing more than cattle to be milked all day every day.”

Kim looked at the teenagers squirming before him and he wondered if maybe they were paying an unreasonable price for whatever minor crimes they had committed.

 

 

Sub-keeper Halloran led the tour party along several adjacent corridors of juves who were also being milked. Most were squirming at the sheer ecstasy being imposed on their genitals, others squirmed harder as they came, but Kim noticed that a coupled flushed red as the party neared them, and he was certain that they were colouring in humiliation at the sound of people approaching. Even though they could not see the visitors, the knowledge of their presence seemed to be enough to embarrass them. He greatly empathised with their plight.

 

Ten minutes later, the tour came to a close at a wide exit. A pair of burly under-keepers stood guard.

“Well, the tour is at a close now. I hope you’ve enjoyed it and found it informative,” the sub-keeper said. “We do our best to run a humane containment centre, and in conjunction with psychoputics, our recidivism rate is almost zero. Only the most recalcitrant of ruffians pays us a second visit, and even fewer rascals.”

“I’m not surprised,” Kim thought, thinking of the boys being milked. He didn’t know what the word “recalcitrant” meant, but thinking of the rows of permanently hard teen penises, he was sure that he would not want to do a second stint in the place.

One of the under-keepers dematerialised the door. It revealed a brightly lit room.

“I hope that you’ll avail yourself in the merch store,” sub-keeper Halloran said. Then he gave a sheepish grin. “Yes, I know, in a keep. It wasn’t my idea. But don’t worry, we’re not selling holos of the disobedients – just a few knick-knacks; something to remember your visit. All profits go to the natives fund to help the local Herschellians.”

 

Kim was at the back of the group, where he’d largely tried to be invisible for most of the tour. He’d seen nothing that might indicate the fate of his friend Vash. As he made to pass through the door, the under-keeper stepped in his way.

“Excuse me Duke,” he said, using the formal term of address usually reserved for teenagers, “can I just have a gab?”

The fact that the man addressed him as “Duke” though Kim was pretending to be 22 years old immediately registered, and a slight tremor of nervousness passed through his stomach. He wondered if he should simply decline, but that would be even more suspicious. Kim turned to the man and put on an expression that he hoped fell midway between mild interest and innocence. He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

“Sure, zup?”

One of the under-keepers closed the nanodoors cutting him off from the rest of the party.

“Can I just check your creds again please?” Halloran asked.

Kim frowned.

“My creds? What for?”

“Occasionally, a rascal gets free and tries to join the tour group,” he lied. “It’s just a formality.”

“But I’ve been with the tour since the start!” Kim protested. “You checked my creds at the station.”

“To be honest, I didn’t notice you until we reached the barn. It really will just take a few moments. I’m sure that there won’t be a problem.”

Kim nervously offered his wrist to the man. His wrist comp showed his age a full 7 years older than he really was. Kim had gotten his ID flashed by a guy at the circus, a multi-activity centre where teens liked to congregate. He’d tested it in a liquorium, a delve, and even an adult GPVirt, and it had been accepted without question, but he was nervous that it would not hold up to close scrutiny.

The sub ran a small pad over Kim’s wrist device then waited for the info to cycle through their sec computer, although he already knew what he would find. Kim’s fake creds had flashed as soon as he presented them at the collection point. Halloran couldn’t believe the kids kept trying their luck, yet here was another one. He was glad that they did, it ensured that the facility had a supply of fresh pebbles for the semen collection business, and these ones didn’t have a shelf life.

The screen flashed red.

“Your creds don’t equate,” the man said in a deadpan voice.

“What do you mean, they don’t equate?” Kim asked nervously.

“Wrong DNA.”

“There must be a mistake then,” Kim said, determined to bluff it out.

“No, I don’t think so. Why do you ‘lescents keep trying your luck?”

“I’m not a ‘lescent I’m…”

“No, you’re not. But okay, I’ll give you the benefit. Let’s go to the office and we can check you out.”

“The… the office, why can’t you just check it out here.”

“Because I don’t have the tech. Follow me,” the sub said, and the two under-keepers moved to ensure Kim’s compliance.

 

They could have simply abducted the teenager and dragged him away, but this was easier, and it gave them plausible deniability if a trail for a missing juze somehow led irrevocably back to the facility.

 

The “office” turned out to be an infirmary. The sub lead Kim inside.

“Hey doc, this visitor is running fake creds. He claims to be a major, but he sure looks like a ‘juve to me. Can you help?”

The female doctor turned to face Kim.

“Hmmm, I can take a look. What’s your name?”

“Kim,” Kim said. “Kim Stevens.”

It was not a common name on Herschel Majoris, but the Regulus Tract had been primarily settled by colonists from England.

Kim had deliberately asked for his name and birthday to remain the same. Only the year was modified.

“Okay Kim, open your mouth please.”

He opened his mouth and she scanned his teeth. The she ran a finger over his top lip.

“You buzz yet?”

“Yes.”

“Not much by the look of it. Drop your breeks please. And your skivs.”

“M… my skivs? Why?”

“I need to get a look at your genitals. They’re a pretty good way of confirming your age.”

“I don’t want to. This is total bees,” he said, feigning anger. “I only came to go on the tour on my day off.”

“Where you work?” the sub said, trying to catch him out.

“I don’t. Third year at J-tech.”

“What are you studying?”

“Holo science.”

Kim had planned out this back story in case such a situation arose, and he had his answers ready.

“That’s white hot and all, but I’m still going to need you to drop your skivs,” the nurse persisted.

“Look Kim, you can do it, or my colleagues will do it for you,” the sub said, gesturing to the two men who had followed them from the exit door.

Kim glanced at them, then reluctantly pushed down his breeks, allowing them to fall to his ankles. He hesitated, then pushed his underwear down as well. His genitals bounced free. Unlike the boys in high tech cities, the boys of Regulus were not compelled to wear EV suits or donate their sperm to the Human Expansion Program, so he was not comfortable with being nude around adults.

His testicles hung low and his penis was above average for his age. The doctor approached and felt his testicles.

“Hmmm, testicles are a good size.”

She ran her fingers through his pubes. Although his bush was thick, there was no treasure trail, and the hair didn’t extend to the insides of his thighs.

“But his hair has not grown in properly yet. I’d say T4. At most. Let’s check his telomeres.”

She pressed a device against his arm. It looked like an ink stamp, but rather than leaving an impression on his skin, it extracted a small cell sample and analysed it. She examined a screen for the results. When they came through, the sub was watching her waiting for the results. She shook her head.

“Nope. T4 genital development, minimal facial hair, juvenile dentition, and pre-major telomere length. There’s no way that this young man is 21. I’d say somewhere between 15 and 16. 13 to 19 at the absolute extremes.”

“That’s not true!” Kim protested. “I AM 21, it’s not my fault I haven’t got a lot of hair!”

“It’s not just your hair young man,” she said patiently.

“I thought you were 22,” the sub-keeper said.

Kim looked at him in surprise.

“I meant 22. I was just repeating her!” he said quickly.

Halloran smiled.

“Pull your breeks up and come with me duke.”

Kim quickly pulled up his skivs and breeks, happy to cover his privs, but he was not so eager to follow the man as he walked from the room.

“Why, where are we going?” he asked.

“Just follow me. You’ll find out soon enough.”

One of the under-keepers moved towards Kim. The man looked to be over two metres tall. Kim was sure the man could subdue a swamp bear. He had no desire to find out what would happen if he disobeyed. He hastily followed Halloran out of the infirmary, shooting the doctor a nervous backwards glance before he passed through the door.

 

“Where are we going?” he asked again repeatedly, but Halloran walked in silence, ignoring his requests for information.

Kim looked behind, but the two underkeepers walked shoulder-to-shoulder, almost filling the corridor.

They moved deeper into the keep. Back into a corridor containing dozens of boys attached to the walls. Kim breathed a sigh of relief as they moved beyond it. Then they were in another milking corridor, then they passed that too.

In the third such corridor, they came to a space where there was no boy attached to the walls. Sub-keeper Halloran stopped and turned to Kim.

“Clothes off.”

“What?”

“Take your clothes off. You’re going to be paying your way while we find out who you your really are and why you’re here.”

“Paying my way? What do you mean?!”

“Look around you juve, what do you think I mean?”

Kim looked left and right along the corridor at the dozens of torsos, their cocks each being ceaselessly milked.

“No moffing way! I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Flashing creds is a crime. And that’s if you aren’t an escaped rascal. We’ll need to investigate.”

“I didn’t…”

“I’m not going to argue with you. Either you strip, or we sleep you and do it while you make some Zs. Now what’s it to be?”

Kim felt sick with fear. His eyes widened with shock. This was all getting really serious. He thought about all the doors they’d passed through, and which had all rematerialized behind them. Without an ID, he doubted he could even open them, but he couldn’t go quietly – he just couldn’t. He turned to run. But he didn’t even make it two paces before one of the under-keepers zapped him with a sleeper.