PECs Chapter 1: Taken Evan Andrews ©2022
This set of stories is not a fan fiction, although it is high space opera. (So forgive the really stupid-sounding or dated terminology.) As always, though, I had a cast of faces in mind for the characters. This story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of any of the men in real life.
If you have read Eric Frank Russel's The Great Explosion, you will recognize the foundation of the story. If you have not, read it. Great SF.
The story depicts males in pulp sci-fi sexual situations with other males. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.
If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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"Well fuck," Warrior Feral of the Terran Periphery Exploration Command said as their rocket ship was pulled towards the gaping maw of the giant alien rocket's flight deck. His Irish brogue came to the forefront as he continued, "I suppose we can guess what happened to our missing PEC warriors."
"And our missing colony too," his ginger-haired and -bearded partner said.
The monster alien rocket had overtaken their own inside what their outdated charts had identified as an old colony's space zone, and there it had shown the Terrans that their scout, small yet one of the finest rockets in the fleet, was no match to the aliens' superior engines. There was no way to outrun the aliens, and for all the big ship's mass it proved it could match them maneuver for evasive maneuver. When the aliens' capture ray took hold of them at last, Feral and his superior, Speed, had pushed their rockets to their limits (and maybe beyond, if you believed the manuals) trying to break the pride of the PEC fleet free of its grip. The exercise had proven to be a dismal failure.
"So now what, Speed?" Feral said as the ray deftly maneuvered the scout into the flight deck and towards a berth. Out the cockpit windows they could see a massive welcoming committee, all armored and bristling with weapons.
Speed, grim in the face of the immanent battle, said, "We do what any PEC warrior should do. We don't go down without a fight; we take out as many as we can; and, if need be, we die with glory."
The big redheaded Irishman gabbed a blaster in each hand and turned to his second.
"You ready, Feral?" Speed said.
"Right beside you, Speed. The Empire forever!"
"The Empire forever."
The two warriors turned to face the hatch and awaited the inevitable.
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The quiet went on almost too long. Then the hatch suddenly blew open, and the soldiers they'd seen outside poured in. As Feral had surmised they weren't any lost colonists. These things were aliens, real aliens, slightly taller and bulkier than their prey, and definitely uglier, and there were dozens of them boarding the scout. The two PEC warriors got off a few shots, ventilating maybe a dozen of the aliens, before the armored creatures blitzed over, disarmed, and restrained them. It took less than two minutes. Humiliating. Speed noticed, however that the dead aliens had both biological and cybernetic components inside their bodies. Cyborgs! No wonder they had been able to resist blaster fire and overpower simple flesh and blood so easily. Maybe he and Feral would have had better luck if they'd faced some real aliens.
"PEC warriors apprehended," one of the cyborgs said in a mechanical voice. In English!
"Good," a male voice answered from the flight deck, "Notify Bishop, and get them out here so we can see what it is we've caught."
"Speed," Feral said, "That voice. It's..."
"Yeah, I noticed, Feral," Speed replied.
The cyborgs half marched/ half drug the warriors out onto the flight deck. There, at least a hundred more of the machine-enhanced creatures awaited them. A hundred freaking cyborgs! And two human males wearing nothing more than black trunks (bulging with their sexual organs) and calf-high boots. (And wearing them well, Speed had to admit.)
Speed had not been all that much surprised when the alien ship hove into view. It explained so much. This region had been chartered to a colonial corporation (Speed had forgotten the name of the company) back in the good old days of the United Planets. The UP, though many looked back on it as some sort of utopia, hadn't been good enough for some of its citizens, and the body politic had fallen into factionalism and eventually into a devastating civil war, leaving the colonies to their own recognizance. Some failed; some did not; but many simply were never heard from again. The easy answer was always `It was aliens'.
It was only recently that the Empire had risen to unify the species once more. One of the Empire's goals was to recontact the colonies that nobody had heard a peep from in decades and invite them back into the hegemony. So, while Speed and Feral had hoped to find colonials, they took the idea of aliens in stride, What they hadn't expected to tumble across was humans in command of aliens.
"Where the hell are we?!" Speed demanded of the two men. "And who the hell are you?!"
The two colonials (presumably) looked at one another and smiled.
"You, red ranger," the shorter blond one said, ignoring Speed's questions, "Are going to be a delightful addition to our stock. I really don't need to tell you anything, but for what good the information will do you, I'll let you know that you are now captives, prisoners of Bishop, captain of the Black Hunter of the ShipClans of the State of Colonia Prima."
The colonial looked at a band on his wrist and said, "Ah, and the captain has ordered you brought to him on the bridge immediately."
"Good," Speed snarled. "I have a few choice words for your captain."
The dark-haired shipman looked at his blond counterpart and said, "I can hardly wait. Pork, I bet you a five spot he takes more than a hundred and fifty hours."
"I'll take that wager," Pork said. "Nobody's lasted more than a hundred and twenty hours yet."
"What in space's name are you talking about?" Feral demanded.
"How long it will take to break you," the brunet said, simply.
"Break us? You're dealing with a couple of Earth's finest warriors here!" Feral brazened, "You've never dealt with our like before!
"Hear that, Pork?" the brunet laughed, "PEC here thinks he and his buddy are our first Terran captives. That we don't have experience breaking PECs."
(PEC' Speed thought, How did they know the word PEC?')
"Hilarious, Beef, but he'll learn. Slobgoblins, get this pretty pair brigged up and ready to move out."
While the colonials (What sort of names were Pork and Beef?) examined the rocket, the cyborg slobgoblins forced the captives towards a matching pair of levitating square frames. This technology the PECs knew and understood. Brigbots were standard issue on ships large enough to hold prisoners. The frames projected a forcefield that would hold a captive totally immobile when he was in it. Such prisoners, spread eagled and looking for all the world like Da Vinci's Vitruvian man, could then be moved and stored anyplace without any fear of escape. Speed had seen prisoners brigged in real brigs, in sick bays, and even interrogation rooms. For all he knew you could store them in chapels. In this case, apparently, their initial (but possibly not their final) destination was the ship's bridge.
After the PECs had been confirmed secure, the slobgoblins activated the floaters, and the party fell in behind Pork and Beef.
"Roll out," Pork called.
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Speed had tried to imagine what the bridge on a rocket this big would look like, but nothing prepared him for the reality. The bridge was a large, mostly open room. A crystal dome ran from the floor afore, and swept back like the windscreen on a modern repulsor speeder. Speed was surprised that the colonials trusted the simple crystal expanse to protect them from the brilliant stars and cold space outside. Banks of control stations (attended by humans and slobgoblins) lined the open floor on either side and aft of the captain's chair.
That chair, almost a throne, held a heavily muscled man. Clearly the ship's captain. The man sported shoulder-length blond hair and a beard. Like the two that had escorted the PECs up from the flight deck, the captain wore nothing more than a pair of black trunks and boots, and both captives noticed that, like his crewmen, the captain's respectable endowment was front and center where he sat spread-legged.
"Captain Bishop, sir," Pork said, "The prisoners."
Bishop gestured for the prisoners to be brought to him, and while the slobgoblins guided the floating brigbots forward, they saw something that gave them chills. On either side of the throne, two all-but-naked men knelt. If you were generous you could say they wore black briefs, but these briefs had holes cut out of them so that their cocks and balls hung out the front and their butts were bared behind. They also wore black metal collars. (What neither Speed nor Feral noticed was that both kneeling men were also impaled on metallic dildos projecting from the floor.)
Disconcertingly, both the kneeling men were at half chub.
"Speed," Feral whispered, "Is that..."
"Yeah, Feral. It's Polo and Beast, two of our missing warriors," Speed whispered back.
"Yes, they are," the man in the throne (who was obviously not deaf) said. "Or they were. Now, they are two of the finest pec slaves in my stable. You might recognize the two beside them as well."
Alongside the kneeling men, two more all-but-naked men crouched on all fours like dogs, their heads hung low. They wore the same `ventilated' black briefs and collars, but they also had doggie-tail butt-plugs crammed in their asses. Small wonder they hung their heads.
"Faces up, boys," the captain said. "Let the new prisoners see who you are."
"Moe!" Feral exclaimed when he saw the South Asian face.
"And Dutch," Speed finished for him.
"And now to finish the introductions, I am Bishop, your captor and the captain of the Black Hunter," the blond muscle stud said. "You may call me Bishop, or Captain-- for now, but later you will call me Master before all else."
"Like hell I'll call you anything of the sort," Feral snarled.
"Well, not right away, of course. First you need to experience a Hell of our creation. Once you realize that absolute fulfillment and unspeakable pleasure is your fate, but that they can only be obtained from complete submission, then you will fall to your knees, call me Master, and grovel, begging to know how you may please me."
"Like hell I will. Torture? Ha! Do your damnedest," Feral challenged the colonial.
"I always do, and I'll reward your mouthy attitude by starting with you—Feral, is it? Slobgoblins, bring Feral to me. Now."
The slobgoblins slid Feral's brigbot up next to Bishop, who stood up. He grabbed the warrior's armored vest and pulled the lapels apart, tearing the vest open and revealing the warrior's impressive pectorals.
"What the fuck?!" Feral cried out.
"Pretty," Bishop said as he ran a hand over Feral's chest. "I've often wondered, does PEC actively seek out men with chests like this, or does this man-sculpt come with all the exercise and conditioning? Eh, I suppose it doesn't matter. Slobgoblins, get rid of Feral's vest."
The cyborgs manifested snippers and cut away the rest of Feral's supposedly invulnerable torso armor. The pieces fell to the floor, but the crew of the Black Hunter seemed to be more interested in the bearded warrior's body than in his supposedly impregnable armor.
Bishop reached out and tweaked the pink-brown nubbins that graced Feral's pectoral muscles. Perversely, Feral felt his nipples get hard, causing the captain to nod in approval.
"Yes, you'll do just fine," the blond said cryptically.
"What do you mea... nah!" Feral started to say, but Bishop cut him off by picking up a piece of gold mesh no larger than a thumbprint from the arm of the command chair and pressing it against the warrior's temple.
"Fuck?!" Feral cried out as metal made contact with flesh, and then he screamed in agony.
"Argh!"
The captain held his hand in position for a moment before pulling back. Speed, watching closely as his partner panted from the pain, could no longer see the piece of mesh. It must have insinuated itself under Feral's skin. But why?
The captain pushed the now panting Feral away and said, "Now, bring me the big redhead..."
Slobgoblins pushed Speed's brigbot forward, and Bishop repeated the procedure. After stripping off Speed's vest, he examined the redhead's pectorals as he had Feral's, but this time he toyed with the PEC's light pink nipples right away, teasing them with gentle touches and tormenting them with cruel pinches.
"Fuck! Ouch!" Speed cried out when Bishop grabbed his tits between thumb and forefinger and twisted them. "What're you doing, you sick freak?"
"Doing, Speed?" Bishop said, smiling. "Why, whatever I want to. That's the prerogative of a captor with his prisoners. Why? Aren't you enjoying it?"
The blond captain got back to deftly torturing Speed's nipples, which were getting more and more sensitive by the second.
"Fuck!" Speed moaned.
Nodding approval at the reaction, Bishop produced a second piece of gold mesh and pressed it against Speed's temple. The redhead felt every agonizing second as the insidious thing burrowed first into his flesh and then through the bone of his skull. Bishop had resumed his nipple play by then, and in short order the pain in Speed's temple was of less importance than the sexual heat that was suddenly rushing through his body. And the warrior definitely noted it when Bishop added lips, teeth, tongue, and sucking to his repertoire of stimulation.
Speed was a straight arrow, but even given that, he'd never had any use for a dame playing with his tits. The big redhead was solely a dick and pussy man. Bishop's sucking, however, was having a noticeable impact on the PEC's sexual organ. The assault on his nipples was incredible, Speed thought, so fucking different from that time the dame in Port Marinaris, fascinated by his frankly spectacular chest, had tried to go there. As Bishop suckled at his tits now, Speed could feel something unfamiliar welling up inside him. The feeling that had filled him now felt like it might burst out of his body at any moment if it could just find a way out. It warmed him. Dangerously so. His blood seemed to boil, and his balls churned. Fuck. His body desperately wanted to cum, but he couldn't let that happen. Not in front of these damned colonials, and definitely not from something as rosy poof as getting his tits sucked. Tits, yeah. That was when Speed noticed the most important thing that was happening. That unfamiliar feeling had found a way to escape-- through his tits. Fuck. And it felt so good!
And inexplicably his cock was chubbing up just like Polo's and Beast's.
"Stop it!" Speed said, but the words came out with a whine, like the warrior was begging.
"No," Bishop simply said. "My prisoner; my rules."
"Fuck.. It feels.. It's..."
Bishop continued his teasing, feasting on an insubstantial essence that was beginning to flow from the Terran's nipples. Quickly sucking the PEC to an erotic high, Bishop felt it when his prisoner's stance changed ever so slightly. The stud was now trying to get as much of his juicy man-tit into Bishop's mouth as was physically possible.
Grinning, the captain said around his prisoner's nipple, "Yes, just like that, Speed, groove on it. Give yourself over to the sensation. Let it rule your body, and soon I will rule your soul."
Without knowing why he did, Speed complied, and the more he gave in to the feeling, the harder his cock got. As his dick started to leak precum, a corner of Speed's mind remembered that the warriors kneeling on either side of Bishop's throne. Speed had been in the shower with both Beast and Polo. Their soft hangs were nowhere near what they were currently sporting. Could it be that they, too, had...?)
Beef, noticing Speed's erection, pulled the redheaded warrior's tights down, releasing his mighty one-eyed monster.
"Mmm," Bishop hummed approvingly, "That's good. Do you feel it, Speed? Do you feel what the Id Tap, my little golden present, is doing to your mind, to your body, and especially to your cock? Do you feel the pressure building in your balls as I suck your nipples?
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' Speed thought. This can't be. Sucking on my tits can't be turning me...'
But all the redhead could manage physically was to moan, "Ah!" and suddenly the beading of precum on the head of his cock turned into a drooling font as if a faucet had been turned on.
"Excellent," Bishop said around the nub of sensitive flesh in his mouth. "Surrender to the feeling, Speed. Concentrate on me sucking your nips. When it's enough, you'll know, because when it's enough, you will... CUM!"
Bishop had read his celibate captive to a tee. As the captain said "CUM!" he pinched Speed's other nipple hard, and the warrior's cock leapt, blasting out a torrent of hot sperm onto Bishop's belly.
"Argh!" Speed screamed. "Cumming! Cumming! Cumming...! Argh!"
It was unlike any orgasm Speed had ever experienced. It wasn't just in his cock; it wasn't just in his balls; the warrior's entire body shuddered and spasmed with the release of sexual tension. As the dregs of the orgasm made their appearance, Speed realized that he could easy become addicted to this sensation.
"Slave Beast," Bishop said when Speed's cock was done hosing him with jizz, "Clean this all up."
Speed, released from the brigbot's embrace, fell in a boneless heap on the floor. Looking on in exhausted incredulity, the PEC watched as his compactly muscled fellow warrior licked the sprays of a brother warrior's sperm off the captain's body. And swallow it. Fuck! And the once proud Beast had a full chub while he did it. That wasn't the warrior that Speed remembered. Meanwhile Moe, whose own fuck-cudgel swung from side to side like another tail, crawled forward and licked up whatever white gold had dribbled onto the floor. Beef's contribution was to kneel down. He removed Speed's boots and stripped him the rest of the way before cuffing the now totally naked warrior's hands behind his back.
"There, Speed. Now you know what I do to my prisoners," Bishop said, grinning wickedly. "I hope it met with your approval, because that's just the beginning. Now, Feral, it's your turn to blow a wad."
Beef pulled Speed up to his knees, and the stunned warrior watched in awe as Bishop tit-sucking raped Feral. Speed's buddy was kiss by kiss, lick by lick, suck by suck, reduced to the humiliating state of serving as the colonist's submissive precum-spiggot. Beef absently fingered up the few drops of sperm that had landed on Speed's own body, and presented them to the ginger captive. After a moment's contemplation, Speed reached out with his tongue and licked the proffered fingers clean.
Wait. Why had he done that?! He didn't eat cum! Well, at least it was his.
While Speed fought this moral dilemma, Feral was living up to his nickname. He thrashed under Bishop's teasing torture, and he screamed like an animal when he finally unloaded onto Bishop's body before slumping to the floor himself. Polo and Dutch teamed up in this case to lick the captain's body and the floor clean again, and Pork stripped Feral the rest of the way before cuffing the warrior. The two drained and stunned Terran prisoners looked up at Bishop almost dreading what the captain might do to them next.
"Pork, Beef, take these two away to the Training Suite and begin the Procedure."
As slobgoblins drug the wobbly-legged Speed and his buddy off the bridge, the redhead thought he heard Bishop's voice give another order.
"Slave Polo, you and slave Beast, on your knees now and worship my sex."
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Possible cast: mostly professional wrestlers, sorry. Speed, Sheamus (WWE); Feral, Finn Balor (WWE); Pork, Drake Maverick (WWE); Beef, Brad Mattox (WWE); Bishop, Triple H (WWE); Polo, Apollo Crews (WWE); Beast, Urijah Faber (MMA); Dutch, Dolph Zigler (WWE); Moe, Mustapha Ali (WWE)