PECs Chapter three: Brothers in Agony Evan Andrews ©2022
This set of stories is not a fan fiction, although it is high space opera. (So forgive the really dated terminology.) As always, though, I had a cast of faces in mind for the characters, a list of whom follows the story. Your image may differ, which is cool. This story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of any of the men in real life.
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
@@@@@@@@@@@
Lying lazily back in his bed, Bishop, captain of the Black Hunter, watched the ceiling screen show images from the surveillance cam in the Training Suite. A spotlight fixed on the two magnificently naked men who lay in the middle of darkness. Bishop's latest captives, Speed and Feral, warriors of Earth's Periphery Exploration Command, had been restrained on padded examination tables, their ankles, thighs, wrists, waists, chests, and necks strapped firmly in place. They writhed in delicious agony courtesy of the training device-- as they had for the last ten hours of ship's night. While his prize pair moaned and twisted in their restraints, tubes fed necessary fluids and nutrients into their veins while the high-tech nipple suckers pursued their wicked end. Bishop deplored the waste of so much of the specimens' Vril, but he knew it was necessary if they were to be successfully broken to their new status. Warrior to slave was a big leap.
"Ah! Oh! Ugh!" the two slave trainees groaned in erotic counterpoint.
While their tits got worked over, neither Speed nor Feral could do anything but endure. Or rather, endure and cum. Occasionally, the stimulation pushed one man or the other to a level where his cock simply had no option but to let loose a barrage of churching ball juice. The violent release reinforced the overall lesson. Submit, give suck, and cum.
And speaking of release... Bishop zoomed in on the redheaded slave-in-training who was clearly close to achieving paradise once again.
"Argh!" Speed cried as his cock shot ropes of cum up onto his belly and chest—which were already striped with blasts from previous orgasms.
"Excellent," Bishop said, "I suppose I should pay my boys a visit in the flesh, but first I need to make sure I'm looking my best and most intimidating. A shower, I think, is in order. Slave Polo, slave Beast, come along and wash me."
@@@@@@
After his shower (during which he had made both his pec slaves impale themselves on and ride his meat), Bishop nonchalantly sauntered into the Training Suite and watched his new acquisitions being tit sucked into the rolling boil of lust that would be an essential part of their new lives. (Bishop's own well-rodded and desperately erect pec slaves he had left chained to the foot of the big bed by their collars.)
Speed could only stare blankly as Bishop stepped out of the dark and came to stand between his two captives. The colonial captain's evil, knowing smile did not bode well, Speed thought, but then the man did something entirely unexpected. He turned off (but did not remove) the tit sucking devices.
As the Terrans slowly came back to earth after their first round of `reeducation', Bishop took in the number of times the tit-sucker had brought his slave trainees to orgasm. It was impressive how many times the PECs had managed to blow their loads in eleven hours. Thanks to the Id Taps and the tit-suckers, the naked men's bellies and chests were striped with ropes of cum.
Bishop scooped up some of the sex juice from Speed's belly and held the slimy fingers to the redhead's lips.
"Lick my fingers free of your sperm, Speed," Bishop said simply.
Speed was revolted at the very concept, but, he told himself as he contemplated the possibly awful outcomes of defying the colonial, at least it was his own sperm, something the PEC had to admit he had tasted before.
"Come on. Come on," Bishop said.
Speed reached out with his tongue and licked the sex goo away.
"Very good," Bishop said, "Let's see if Feral has learned as well."
Feral pleased the captain by licking Bishop's slimy fingers clean without hesitation. The captain was thunderstruck, however, that the very second the formerly mouthy PEC tasted his own seed his cock leapt again and fired off yet another rich load.
"Hah! Hah! Hah!" Feral gasped as his prick spat wad after wad of white gold.
Once his orgasm was finished, Feral then went a step further. Bishop had not yet pulled his fingers away, and the PEC leaned forward and took the digits into his mouth, sucking to get all the taste of sperm off of them.
"Well, that's promising," Bishop laughed to the sex-addled brunet, "I'm glad to see you both so well advanced in your lessons. A few more hours and you'll be prime pec slaves."
"More?!" Speed cried in distress. (Feral, on the other hand, though he looked exhausted, showed on his face he was ready to undergo more tit sucking if it gave him orgasms like the one he'd just had.)
"Of course more, Speed," Bishop consoled the restrained warrior. "Most slaves start with a hundred hours of the Procedure. You've only had ten or so. You need, you see, to have it drilled home (or should I say sucked?) that your heroic warrior days are behind you now. By the end of training, you'll both be true pec slaves, concerned with nothing more than how the Vril leaking from your nipples could sustain your masters, and with what humiliations you can endure to convince them to let you give suck so you can nut. I think you'll be amused by some of the demeaning scenarios we colonials can devise."
That said, Bishop reached down and cupped the trainee slaves' churning balls.
"Oh!" Speed screamed as his nuts leapt in their sack. He didn't cum, though. He wanted to, but he just couldn't.
"Argh," Feral added. The mouthy PEC's body also tried for another orgasm, but it was far too soon for that. His balls had reached their limit-- for now. His shaft leapt up and down, but no seed escaped. The degraded warrior's eyes streamed tears of frustration.
"You really are a bastard," Speed said in a voice hoarse from screaming.
"Actually, bastardy is impossible under the generative practices of the State, and, frankly, my genetic lineage is nothing to be ashamed of," Bishop smirked, "But I must say that you're being exceptionally confrontational for a person we caught sneaking into the State's contracted space in your sad little rocket. I assume you came to snoop about, and the way I read the law, that makes you spies. Especially since we both know that you came in order to assess how prepared we might be to fend off an invasion by your expansionist empire. You should really purge your data banks when you're captured."
Speed could only stare. He hated being branded a spy, but Bishop was right. Though their official mission was to ascertain what might have happened to a missing PEC rocket, they had also been told to keep their eyes open for anything "interesting"—which included the current defensive state of the colony seeded in this region, assuming it had survived.
"Do they teach history at the PEC academy, Speed?" Bishop asked. "Did they ever tell you how, under old Earth law, spies were punished with extreme prejudice? Probably not. If they had, you would have known that something bad would happen to you in the event you were captured. And by something, I don't mean the Prince giving you the key to Crown City. Or the People rising up to throw you a ticker tape parade. Or our, rather picky, women throwing themselves at your feet."
"I..." and Speed stopped. He'd heard some of those very ideas batted about between warriors back at base in regard to lost colonies, but how could Bishop...?
"So, you see what I mean. Well, just to things into proper perspective, I should tell you that you and Feral here were blasted lucky that one of the ShipClans captured you. Compared to some others in the State, and I'm thinking specifically of the War Faction, we are the height of mercy and compassion. Had the War Faction gotten their hands on you, especially if they'd caught you someplace sensitive like the throne world, they'd have put you to death."
Bishop grinned and continued, "I can tell by your face that you've considered how you'd nobly face the atomic blasting chamber, but I need to tell you that the War Faction is far more inventive and vindictive than that. I'm told they have a device that can peel a human body like a banana, one layer of tissue at a time. And there's another one that can, starting with the feet, cut a prisoner into slices as thin as three millimeters. I believe the pain is incredible."
The colonial captain paused for a moment so his prisoner could imagine about how long he could last being sliced apart that way.
"So you see, Speed," Bishop continued, "You and Feral should really count yourselves lucky that the Black Hunter caught you. The ShipClans are highly pragmatic. When life gives you koomatkas, as we say, you should make koomatka smoothies. In this case, since we latched onto two (alright, two more) magnificent specimens of masculinity just briming with Vril, we decided to make pec slaves."
"Vril?" Feral said.
"The vital something that makes you superior men," Bishop said. "Any other questions?"
"Pec whats?" Speed croaked.
"Slaves," Bishop said, "As in "inferior persons whose only purpose is to serve their betters".
"And those other PECs?" Speed said.
"Polo, Beast, Dutch and Moe? Them too, yes, of course, though they'll be staying with the ship. The Id Tap that we implanted in you all is a wicked little device we unearthed when we settled Colonia Prima. We weren't the first to occupy the throne world, you see. The Ancients (as we call them) left behind them a panoply of advanced technology. This ship is a result of that body of tech; you notice how quickly and efficiently we caught your rocket ship. And the Id Tap, that you're getting firsthand experience with?"
"The id isn't a physical part of the brain," Speed contradicted the colonial. (Never a smart thing to do to a man who has you strapped immobile to a table.)
With no warning, Bishop rammed a couple of sweaty fingers up the redhead's asshole and aggressively attacked his prostate.
"Fuck!" Speed screamed, his cock leaping impotently.
"That's not how a pec slave speaks to a ship captain, Speed," Bishop said, "I trust you'll remember that in the future. But back to the unnecessary but satisfying Evil Overlord explanation. While it's true that the id might not be located in any given organ, the Tap links and stimulates several primordial "id" areas of the brain, making them work in concert. Like right now. As I stroke your prostate, notice how your body is becoming desperate to give in to the need to pass on your genes."
Bishop leaned in close and smirked.
"And by that I mean cum, Speed. Normally you can control your id thanks to your higher brain functions, but not with the Id Tap in place. Instead of controlling your impulses, your brain is trying to figure out what it needs to do in order for you to get off. It already knows the answer, of course. Your tits need to be sucked (or otherwise teased) to "complete the circuit". Yes, it is a trifle more involved than that, and that's where your training comes in. What the Procedure does is drive home the mindset that having your tits sucked leads to release. But that's not all. In phase two, we will instill the social norms you'll be working under. Accepting your base status as pathetic suck slaves to masters. If I let you and Feral loose right now (and no, that's not happening) and you immediately fell into a bout of mutual tit worship, you could bring about an orgasm, but after training is finished that will be quite impossible because neither of you are masters. At that point, only a master (or this nifty sucking device) will be able to give you that reward, that release."
Bishop punctuated his statement by sliding a couple of fingers up Feral's hole too.
"Oh fuck!" Feral screamed. "Oh fuck yeah oh fuck there good cum!"
All Bishop did was laugh, "You boys are eventually going to be reduced from proud warriors to groveling slaves-- to be kept, or sold, or traded away, as politics require. Your new owners will suckle at your fabulous nipples, at their leisure, and get disgustingly high on the Vril flowing out of them."
"Slaves," Feral gasped. (Bishop had just brushed over his prostate.)
"Naturally, Feral. So much better than corpses. As slaves, you will be an asset both to the ShipClans as bargaining chips and to the elite of the State as much sought-after chattels, milking beasts if you will."
"Milk..." Speed started, but Bishop cut him off.
"Not that kind of milk, idiot. Nobody's interested in your nut juice, prodigious as your output clearly is, or in whatever might be physically harvested from your bodies. People are eagerly awaiting the Vril flowing from your tits."
"You fiends!" Speed sobbed.
"Fiends?" Bishop beamed, "Yes, I like the sound of that. But not nearly so fiendish as I am about to be."
Bishop removed his fingers from the PECs' asses, and turned the tit suckers back on. Detaching the sucker from Speed's left nipple, the captain attached his lips and chewed on the sweet pink protuberance. A second later he was rewarded with inarticulate screams as a new gusher erupted from the redhead's cock and painted his belly.
"Fuh..." Speed managed to croak out when his orgasm finished.
"I'll leave you to your lessons now," Bishop said, replacing Speed's tit sucker and turning to leave.
"Leave?!" Feral cried.
"Yes. Oh, don't worry. One of my men will monitor you, and I'll be back in, let's say, a hundred hours to check on your progress."
A hundred?!
"Nooooooooooooooo!" both PECs screamed as the captain disappeared back into the dark
@@@@@@@@
Bishop stepped into the Training Suite's control room where he found one of the crewmen manning the station.
"Angel," the captain said, "Run our beauties another thirty-six hours."
"You told them a hundred," Angel pointed out.
"Who cares what lies I tell slaves?" Bishop said, "As I said, thirty-six hours together. Then I want you to take them to separate rooms where they can finish their training without distractions."
@@@@@@@@
Thirty-six maddening hours later, dark muscular Angel entered to the training chamber with a gang of slobgoblins. Feral had passed out at some point, but Speed was conscious, if not coherent. When the cyborgs released the PEC's straps, warrior training kicked in automatically, and the redhead immediately did his best to escape. Sadly for him, the best he could manage was to roll painfully off the table (pulling himself out of his tit-suckers as he did so). There, though, Speed found that his body, that he thought would be able to fight the good fight, had been too severely drained during his training, and he collapsed in a heap before he could manage a step. The cyborgs pulled him to his feet in spite of that, holding him up for Angel to examine.
Speed tried to protest as the crewman wiped the cum off his pale body with a towel.
"Let me go, you stunted little... Argh."
Angel was famous for not taking abuse, especially about his size, and he grabbed the half-way slave's balls and twisted. Speed writhed as his nuts were squeezed.
"Ow, fuck, I'm sorry!" Speed cried.
Only then did Angel release Speed's balls, and the cyborgs let the warrior collapse onto the deck.
"A little respect is due your masters, slave," Angel said to the man now curled up on the floor. "Do you agree?"
Speed pulled himself together enough to nod an affirmative through the tears of pain.
Angel stared for a second more and said simply, "Bring him."
Slobgoblins took hold of the redhead and drug him away to another room. Another room, with another table, to which he was once again securely strapped before being fit once more with tit suckers.
"Fuck! Not those! Not again!" Speed cried.
And then Angel turned this new machine on. Things were just like before, except that Speed didn't have the moral support of his buddy Feral (even though that support had been getting a little dubious there at the end). Furthermore this new room was brightly lit and had a mirrored bowl for a ceiling. No matter where Speed looked, he saw only himself, helpless and at his captor's mercy, as the insidious tit sucking torture relentlessly pursued its goal of turning him from a real man into a slave.
Just below the range of usual human hearing, a robotic voice began a litany. "You are a slave. You exist to give suck to your masters and follow their commands. You are a slave..."
"I'll leave you to it," Angel said as he left Speed in his new home.
"Argh!" the redhead cried as the suckers kicked into overdrive and a new phase of his torture and reeducation began.
@@@@@@
Possible cast:
Colonials Bishop, Triple H (WWE) ; Angel, Angel Garza (WWE)
Terrans:
Speed, Sheamus (WWE) ; Feral, Finn Balor (WWE) ; Polo, Apollo Crews (WWE) ; Beast, Urijah Faber (MMA)