Rod Hardy of the Galactic Guard Book 2: The Vicious Cane Of Captain Stern
by Kirk McCorkle
MM bd Sci-Fi military medical
This is a work of erotic fiction. All participants are fictional, and are over eighteen years of age. If reading erotic fiction about adult male participants that involves sex, sexual servitude, bondage, and domination is illegal wherever you are, don't read any further. Or do, and be proud of your badass outlaw self. I welcome your feedback, and hope you enjoy the story.
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"Sir, yes Sir!" Galactic Guard Cadet Rod Hardy said, and waited for the whip to fall across his ass. He was splayed out on Captain Stern's desk, pinned to it by Stern's mighty hand on the back of his neck. Rod's ass was over one end of the desk, his head and shoulders were over the other, and Captain Stern was behind him with a long thin whip antenna made of plastisteel laced with duranium.
"All you have to do to get this to stop, Cadet," Captain Stern said, "Is say you can't take it."
Rod clenched his ass cheeks, gritted his teeth and gripped the edge of Captain Stern's desk for all he was worth. Now that he knew about Section D, the Galactic Guard's super-secret program to match up dominant, hypersexual commanders with willing, submissive crews, he was even more determined to be a Spaceman. He still hadn't decided if Section D was really for him, but he sure wasn't going to wash out because he couldn't take a whipping.
Nothing could have prepared him for the hot line of agony that blazed across his ass as Captain Stern lashed his strong young buttocks with the makeshift cane. The sound of the strike was like the static discharge off a Class 5 laser cannon, and it felt like a bolt from one had just grazed his ass. Rod realized he was screaming and trying to protect his ass with his hands.
Captain Stern wrestled Rod's hands away from his ass, then pulled them up over Rod's head. He used a length of CT48 cabling to secure his wrists, and then tied them off to the leg of the desk. When Rod couldn't protect himself anymore, Captain Stern switched to a two-handed grip on the antenna and swung again.
Rod had thought it couldn't be as bad the second time, that the first stroke had been the worst because of the surprise. When he heard the cane sizzle through the air, though, his ass muscles clenched just as hard, and the stripe of blazing pain was even worse than the first one. He'd really tried hard not to scream, but he was screaming without even realizing he'd started.
The third lash and the fourth came right after, and Rod was sure his ass had been sliced to ribbons, that he'd never sit again. Some part of his pain-addled mind wondered if he could still serve in the Guard if he couldn't sit. Piloting would be out of the question.
Then the fifth blow landed, and all thought left his mind for a while as the whip drew a line of searing pain across his ass. It felt more like a red-hot lasersword than a simple whip antenna. Rod was gasping for breath and sobbing on the desk as he felt Captain Stern's fingers trace the lines he'd drawn on the young Cadet's beautiful rear.
"All you have to do to stop this," Captain Stern said, "Is tell me you can't take it."
Rod heard the distinctive high-pitched sound of a uniform seam unsealing, and then he felt the Captain's cock at his ass. He gulped in a breath, then another, mostly just grateful that the whipping had stopped. Then Captain Stern's cock was pushing into his ass without any lube and Rod wondered if he wouldn't have been better off with the whipping.
From what it felt like, Captain Stern's cock was huge. And he wasn't taking his time about plowing into Rod's ass, either. If it hadn't been for the good solid fucking in Dr. Goins's diabolical machine last night he was sure Captain Stern's cock would have split him open. He tried to relax as the enormous cock thrust into him, but he was howling by the time Catain Stern's pubes were grinding up against his tender ass.
Once Captain Stern's cock had reached its objective it began its mission, which apparently involved battering the cadet into complete submission. Captain Stern pounded into him rhythmically, mercilessly, ramming into his ass like the enormous piston on an ion gradient engine. Rod gripped the cable that bound his hands and held on as best he could as his commanding officer, shirt and tie still flawlessly in place, slammed into his ass relentlessly.
Captain Stern wasn't being fancy, he wasn't being gentle, he was using Cadet Hardy as a convenient hole, a well-animated sexbot. Rod could feel his cock getting harder, trapped against the side of Captain Stern's desk, as the Captain's relentless fucking started lighting up the young cadet's nervous system like the control board of a system patrol cutter during a disaster drill. When he felt the Captain's strokes getting harder and slower, Rod pushed back against the Captain, taking him as deeply inside his ass as possible. And when he felt the Captain cum, flooding his ass with his high-ranking seed, Rod felt his own orgasm reach the point of no return. He came explosively, feeling the pulsing cock of his superior officer shooting jets of hot cum into him, cable digging into his wrists. He could feel his ass pulsing around the Captain's cock, drawing out his orgasm, making Rod cum even harder.
Fortunately, that feedback loop didn't turn out to be self-sustaining. Rod felt his orgasm winding down, and then Captain Stern patted him on the back and pulled his cock out of Rod's ass.
"Nicely done, Cadet." Captain Stern said. "You might have what it takes to make it in Section D after all."
"Thank you, Sir!" Said Cadet Hardy, with a grin as wide as the Carina Nebula.
Captain Stern untied his wrists, and Rod straightened up slowly, checking his ass. There didn't seem to be any major damage, but it did feel like there was some blood.
"Atten-hut!" Captain Stern barked. Rod snapped to attention, pants around his ankles. Captain Stern took a portable medkit, went behind him, and Rod felt the soothing antibiotic rays, then the tingle of the skin regenerator.
"Hm," Captain Stern said with a note of concern in his voice. "It looks like a couple of these may be too bad for this little kit to handle. Get yourself in order, Cadet, and report to Doc Goins."
"Permission to speak, Captain?"
"Granted," said Captain Stern.
"Sir, won't Doctor Goins ask... oh." Rod snapped his fingers. "Of course. He ran the tests on me, of course he has clearance for Section D. I'm sorry, Sir."
"You're using your head, Cadet," Captain Stern said. "Never be sorry for that Now, you've got a big decision to make, and not a lot of time to make it. If we're going to form a new Section D unit, we'll have to put it together within two days. You can ask Doctor Goins any questions you have. Make up your mind by midnight tomorrow."
"How do I let you know if I decide to join, Sir?" Rod asked.
A big, wolfish grin spread over Captain Stern's face. "That's the fun part. If we're going to assign you to Section D, we need a plausible reason. Cadet, you're going to have to screw up."
"Sir?"
"Commit an infraction punishable by disciplinary hearing. Nothing that would get you kicked out of the guard, but something significant. Then the hearing will assign you to Section D. So you get to go do something bad."
"Sir, yes Sir." Rod had to admit, this had possibilities.
"All right, Cadet. Now lick your cum off the side of my desk, pull up your pants, and go see the doctor."
Rod knelt on the floor by his Commanding Officer's feet and licked his cooling cum off the metal desk. When the desk was spotless, he stood, pulled up his pants and got himself arranged quickly, and saluted.
"Dismissed, Hardy."
Cadet Hardy turned smartly and left the Captain's office, the door hissing softly closed behind him. He made his way through a maze of bustling offices until he exited Central Command, and headed down the slideway towards the infirmary.
About halfway there, the slideway surfaced and the walls of the tube became clear, and as always Rod was momentarily stunned by the beauty of Saturn hanging perpetually above them. He stared up like a complete groundling. He felt a little better about it when he spotted someone with Lieutenant Commander's bars a few dozen yards ahead doing exactly the same thing.
The Galactic Guard Academy could have been established anywhere in the solar system, he supposed. But in terms of cheap real estate with an excellent view, Saturn was definitely a good choice. The asteroid provided a center of operations for the Guard in the outer system, while giving cadets the opportunity to get their education on a functional, operational base.
The infirmary was a few meters underground, so Rod took a last mental stereogram of the view as the slideway headed back down. The door got his identification from his tags, asked him a few questions, then ushered him inside and asked him to wait.
There were a few other cadets there in various states of disrepair. Rod was surprised to see Neil Keeling in a corner, cradling his arm. Rod went over.
"Neil, what happened?" Rod asked.
"Oh, hi, Hardy. Zero-G wrestling again." The tall Venusian shrugged, then winced and readjusted his arm. He was a lanky, handsome guy, but had a sleepy look to him that kept him perpetually on the bad side of every Chief Petty Officer in the Academy.
"Let me guess. Brock."
"Yeah. I think he's got a crush on me." Neil's usual lopsided grin didn't last long.
"That guy just doesn't let up, does he? Someone ought to do something about him," Rod said.
"Aw, forget about it. What are you in here for?"
"Umm... I kinda hurt my back." Rod figured it wasn't completely a lie.
"Oh, yeah? No fun." Neil got the look everyone gets when they're listening to their comms, then said "Looks like I'm up. Good luck with your back, Hardy."
"Thanks, Keeling. See you back at the unit."
It was a few minutes before Rod's comm let him know he could proceed back to the doctor's office. He walked back through the clean white hallways to an examining room, where Doctor Goins met him a few minutes later.
"Cadet Hardy, at ease. Good to see you," said the doctor, looking over his chart. "Any aftereffects from the testing the other night?"
"Well, my ass was kind of sore. Which is nothing compared to how it's doing right now." Rod pulled down his pants and showed the doctor the results of Captain Stern's discipline.
"So you've decided to join up with Section D?" Doctor Goins asked, getting a dermal regenerator out of a cupboard.
"I'm still thinking it over. It's a lot to take in." Rod looked over the doctor's muscular frame. "So, you're in Section D?"
"I'm part of the program. Here, bend over and lean on the table." Doctor Goins started the regenerator and focused it on Cadet Hardy's wounded ass.
Rod drew in a hissing breath. The rays stung. "So, if I joined Section D, you'd be able to do whatever you wanted to me?"
"What?" Doctor Goins said, adjusting a control. "Is that what you think Section D is? Officers using their subordinates to get off whenever they want?" Doctor Goins sighed. "I suppose it is that, to some degree, but it's much more. Mostly, it's about discipline, and training, and honor."
"So, you wouldn't want to show me what life in Section D would be like?" Rod wiggled his ass under the blue glow of the regenerator.
Doctor Goins laughed. "Oh, no, Cadet, that's not why I'm in the program. I've got the wife and kids at the end of the day, you know. No, Cadet, the reason I'm here is for science."
He switched off the regenerator and checked Rod's ass for damage. "You see, Cadet, with the kind of consent you Section D personnel are willing to give, we can take the boundaries of science further, faster than with any other group. Can you think of any other cohort that would consent to having devices installed that would allow for external control of their libidos? For a couple of years, every unit in Section D could have their sex drive turned on or off whenever we wanted. We even had an overdrive mode. We were able to get some fantastic data."
"So... do we still get those, Sir?" Rod asked.
"Oh, no, that was just an experiment. We're still sifting through the data. We have the devices around, of course. They're handy. But no, we're always working on new ways to improve the Galactic Guard, and Section D is in the forefront of that research. Did you know that the vacuum immunization treatments were pioneered on Section D? People only used to be able to live for twenty or thirty seconds in space. Now we've got it up to four minutes!"
"Sir, the drill instructor said it was two minutes." Rod rubbed his ass. It was completely smooth again. It felt good.
"Well, Section D gets all the good stuff," Doctor Goins said with a grin. "They always tell you to be the best spaceman you can be. That's fine. But if you want to be the best spaceman possible, join Section D and see what we can turn you into."
"Gosh, Doc, that sounds swell," Rod said. "Can you make me faster, or stronger?"
"If we need faster or stronger spacemen, sure." the doctor said. "Tell you what, Cadet. Interested in trying out some tech?"
"Sir, yes Sir!"
"Here, put on this cap, and sit down. No, don't pull up your pants."
Rod took the cap, a rubbery half-dome, and put it over what the Academy barbers had left of his hair. Then he sat down on the examining table. "So, what does this do, Doct-"
The doctor flipped a switch, and Rod fell back onto the table. Complete and total ecstasy had engulfed his entire body the moment the doctor had hit the switch. Every single nerve ending he had was lit up like the thrusters on a galactic security cutter, and his cock had gone from disinterested to desperately hard in a nanosecond.
"I call it the Ecstasmatic. It's a directed neurostimulator. Basically, it creates a magnetic field around your pleasure center which allows me to manipulate some functions. For instance, right now, you'll find you can just barely move, right Cadet?"
Rod tried to focus despite the waves of ecstasy that were coursing through him. He waggled his right hand feebly. "Sir, yes S-sir. Sir."
"Now if I adjust the field strength in the left lateral bundle here..." Doctor Goins turned a dial on a panel, and suddenly Rod felt as if he was about to cum so hard he'd quite simply die. Any second now, an orgasm of titanic proportions was going to wash him completely away and there was nothing he could do about it. Any moment now.
"I call this setting the Anticipatron. The subject feels as if something wonderful and horrible, truly awesome in the original sense, is about to happen. It's paralyzing. As in literally, you'll notice that you can't move. It's really useful when you want someone immobilized but aware. Though if you leave it on for more than a few hours it can have some unfortunate aftereffects. Quite a remarkable sensation, though, isn't it?"
Rod tried to nod, but he couldn't. Every fiber of him was on edge, ready, waiting for the orgasmic apocalypse that was approaching. He couldn't even tremble, he could barely breathe. It was coming, and it was huge.
Doctor Goins hovered his finger over a button. "And when I press this button, it goes into a super-stimulus mode that floods about eighty percent of your cortex and subcortex with targeted signals on a variety of wavelengths in phased pulses designed to induce an orgasmic state. I could push it now..."
Rod watched as the finger descended toward the button, his whole body yearning for and dreading the moment it made contact.
"Or I could push it now..." Doctor Goins's finger made little circles around the button while Rod lay helplessly on the examining table, his eyes fixed on the button that held his whole fate. A tiny whimper came from the back of his throat.
"Sorry, Cadet, just teasing." Doctor Goins pressed the button.
The orgasm that ensued was thunderous, cataclysmic, unendurable. Still completely unable to move, Rod felt his cum explode out of him the instant the button was pressed. All his anticipation dissolved into a climactic release, a luminous explosion of ecstasy.
The Doctor kept his finger on the button for a moment, then let it go.
Rod twitched limply on the table, already missing the subsiding wave of pure bliss.
"Hmm. Usually there's more ejaculate." Doctor Goins took the cap off of Rod's head and examined it. He handed Rod a box of tissues absently. "I'm going to have to recalibrate that."
"That was pretty intense, Sir." Rod cleaned himself up, then got up and put his pants back on.
"Well, it's better if we can embed the emitters in your skull." Doctor Goins put the cap aside, and tapped a couple of buttons on a console. "All right, Cadet, you're all set. Report back to your unit. And good luck with your decision. Dismissed."
"Sir, thank you, Sir!" Rod snapped a salute, turned and exited.
Filled with visions of becoming a super-spaceman, Rod left the medical building and headed back towards the classrooms. His unit would have started on the ranks and insignias class by now, and they'd probably be floundering without him. Chris and Thomlin were good fellows, and he wondered for a moment if he'd be able to stick with them if he took the assignment to Section D. He'd been thinking of them as his permanent unit, but the assignments weren't made until Wednesday. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably why Captain Stern wanted him to make his decision so quickly.
A couple of slideways and a corridor later, he quietly rejoined his Ranks and Insignia class. The instructor let him in without giving him too much flack, and an hour later he and his unit mates were doubletiming it to the athletic center.
"What do you think it'll be today, Rod?" Thomlin asked. "I'm hoping for zero-G wrestling."
"The way my day's been going, I'm going to bet on the space bikes," Rod said.
Thomlin and Chris both groaned. The space bikes were the closest thing the Academy could get to torturing its cadets. Since long marches were somewhat impractical on an asteroid, the bikes had been developed as a means of making sure the cadets got to experience all the agony of marching, but without gravity. A simple reactionless drive on the back, three tiny reactionless maneuvering thrusters on the front, and three cadets in space suits pedaling like crazy in between. The power they generated was turned into thrust by the drives, and the man in the back got to choose how much of it went to each thruster.
If you pedaled hard enough, you could maintain orbit around the asteroid. For a while.
The objective was to do as many orbits as you were ordered to while still coming in to a good landing on the space bike dock. Land anywhere else and your team would be hiking back to the nearest airlock, space bike on their shoulders, for a very humiliating walk through the tunnels back home.
On the way up to the space bike dock, Rod caught sight of Cadet Smith coming out of a nearby corridor.
"Hey, I'll catch up to you guys in the gym," he told his unit mates.
"Don't leave us high and dry like you did in Ranks," Thomlin said.
"Don't worry, I won't." Rod clapped him on the shoulder and veered off to talk to Smith.
"Hey, Smith, what happened yesterday?" Rod said. "I thought you were going to go get someone."
"Oh, hey, Hardy. Hey. You wanted me to get someone?" Smith's smile fell. "Oh, crap. I thought you were okay."
"I winked at you!" Rod said.
"I thought you were saying it was okay to go. Oh, man, I'm sorry. I really thought you wanted him..."
Rod shrugged. "Kinda. I figured I did more than you."
"I guess so. It was a stupid bet. I really owe you one for saving me from him." The two cadets entered the lift that would take them to the space gym.
"It's okay. He's kind of hot. I wish he wasn't such a jerk, though," Rod said.
"I'm serious. I owe you one. I can sneak us into the equipment room." Smith looked Rod up and down.
"Well, I don't want to be late to liftoff, my guys would kill me. How about after?"
"After it is," Smith said.
They stepped off the lift and onto the vast floor of the space gym. The synthetic diamond dome above them showed Saturn in its full glory, and both cadets stopped a moment to gawk, then headed to the space bikes.
Their units were already shucking out of their clothes and getting into their space suits.
"I don't understand why we have to do the full deployment every damned time," Thomlin was complaining. "I mean, we'll be out there less than two hours. Who can't hold their bladder that long?" He had the space suit trousers on, and was fumbling to put the penis sheath over his big flaccid cock. He was turning about five shades of red while doing so.
"Because," Rod said, "You never can tell how long you're going to need to be on a mission, no matter how simple the mission looks." He stripped out of his uniform, folding everything neatly as he went. "And with twenty hours of oxygen in each suit, do you really want to drown in your own piss half an hour away from base?"
"That was right out of the book, wasn't it?" Chris asked. "What did you do, study the manuals while everyone else was playing hologames?"
"Pretty much. When I wasn't playing Galactic Guard hologames." Rod grinned. "Come on, Osmium unit! Time to conquer the vastness of space!"
They picked up the flimsy-looking duranium framework of their bike and hauled it to the launching port. They spent the time waiting for their slot checking over each others' suits according to the protocols, and then did the pre-flight check on their bike.
"You guys mind if I make some adjustments to the maneuvering thrusters?" Rod said. "I've got an idea."
Chris shrugged. Thomlin said, "Okay."
Rod made some quick changes to the thruster vectors, and then they carried the bike into the launch port, positioned it on the launching rails and mounted up. The countdown flashed before their eyes, and the launch rails started gently pushing them towards the airlock door.
Rod and his comrades started pedaling for all they were worth. A good launch was worth an extra two or three degrees of orbital insertion, so it really helped to come off the launch rails as fast as possible. Rod set up a swift, steady pace, and in seconds they were all working in a solid rhythm. Then the launch rails ended, and they were floating above the vast dome of the space gym, the towers of the Galactic Guard Academy falling rapidly behind them.
Rod let out a whoop. "Have you guys ever seen anything this beautiful?" he yelled into his comm.
"Keep pedaling, or you're going to get to see it from real close up," Thomlin said.
They'd been launched with three other teams, and Rod quickly got a bearing on their competitors. They were out in front of the pack, but there was one bike quickly gaining on them. Rod recognized the markings of Magnesium unit. Brock's unit.
"Put on the speed, fellas!" Rod picked up the pace, and Chris and Thomlin followed suit, and their bike soared between the rock below and the astonishing beauty of Saturn above. They gained ground on the other bikes for a time, but eventually they tired, and the Magnesium team made up some distance. For four orbits of the base they kept that up, the cadets' legs pumping relentlessly, trying to eke every nanoerg of power out of their little em drive propulsion unit.
On the fifth orbit, Brock's unit started pulling into the lead.
"Dammit, they saved some strength up for the last lap," Chris said. "I'm too beat to pull anything out now."
"Just keep at this pace," Rod said. "We keep this steady and we're good."
"I hate to tell you, Hardy," Thomlin said, "But if we keep this steady, we lose."
"We can do this," Rod said. "Steady on, guys."
At the three quarter mark, the Red unit had pulled two bike lengths ahead. "Well, crap. We're done for," Chris said. "Thanks, skipper."
"Just keep this pace up, and be ready to give me everything you've got for twenty seconds."
"What?" Thomlin said. Up ahead of them, Magnesium unit's main em drive flickered out, and the maneuvering thrusters came to life.
"We've got to start braking, Hardy," Chris said.
"Trust me, guys. I'm pretty sure I have an idea." Rod watched the landing platform approach, and redid his mental trajectory calculations one last time. "Yeah, this should work."
"Rod, we're going to crash into the platform," Chris said, a note of alarm arriving in his voice.
"Keep this speed," Rod said.
The bike ahead of them had started losing its lead, using the asteroid's gravity and their maneuvering thrusters to shape an easy arc down to the platform. When Rod's unit started overtaking them, the space-suited figures on board started gesturing to them. From what Rod could make out, they were wondering what his unit was doing. And had some obscene suggestions for them.
Rod's unit shot past them, the em drive glowing behind it. Rod ignored the frantic gestures of the Magnesium unit and focused on the platform ahead of him. Just when he'd lined the nose of the bike up precisely with the horizon, he switched all power to two of the maneuvering drives and yelled "Full power! NOW!" into his comm.
Chris and Thomlin gave it everything they had, fueled by the sight of the landing platform coming at them dauntingly fast. The stars and Saturn spun crazily about them for a moment, and then Rod hit the third thruster, backed off on the other two, and steadied the ship back out. Except now they were going backwards. And spinning.
And instead of braking with their maneuvering thrusters, they were braking with their main thruster. Rod headed the bike's stern directly at the landing platform, and threw all the power into their main thruster. The cadets of Osmium unit plunged towards it, pedaling like mad, the universe whirling around them dizzyingly.
Rod threw another burst of power into the starboard thruster to keep them from crushing the thruster underneath them, and they slammed in to the platform on their sides and skidded to a halt about two feet short of the edge.
"Sound off everyone," Rod said.
Chris's comm cut in on the sound of him laughing. "I'm good."
"Me too," Thomlin said. "A manual skew-flip turnover? You're a lunatic, Hardy."
The three of them were extricating themselves from the bike when the Magnesium unit bike came in to a perfect landing in the center of the pad. One spacesuited figure jumped off the bike immediately and started stalking towards Rod's unit.
"Aw, great, Brock is here," Chris said over their comm channel.
Brock walked right up to Rod and put his helmet's faceplate up against Rod's, so they could talk without being on the comm channels. "You reckless, irresponsible lunatic!" Brock said. "Someone could have been seriously hurt!"
"Brock, the gravity is about .01 G, and we were doing maybe fifteen miles an hour," Rod said, keeping his voice calm. "There's never going to be a better time to get real experience with force vectors and thrust-"
"You'll do anything to beat me, won't you?" Brock said, his face nearly pressed against the polarized diamond of his faceplate. "Doesn't matter if you put your crew in danger. You're worthless Earthling scum, you know that, Hardy?"
"We beat your ass fair and square, Brock," Rod said. "You should really work on learning to deal with failure."
"You smarmy little Earthling shit," Brock said. "Next time I get you into the wrestling sphere, I'm going to tear you apart."
"Anytime, Brock." Rod licked his faceplate, and Brock recoiled.
Then he slammed their helmets back together. "Tonight. 2300. The bubbles by the space gym. No audience, no referee, no holds barred."
"Winner fucks loser," Rod said with a grin.
"You're that desperate for my cock, Hardy? All right, when I win I'll fuck you raw."
"You'd better show up lubed or your ass will never be the same, you space-witted son of a-"
Two big hands on their shoulders pulled them apart, and Chief Gladney's voice came over their comms. "What's going on here, Cadets?"
"Sir, we were just talking over my flight plan, Sir!" Rod said, snapping to attention.
"I saw your flight plan. I thought someone had shot you down," the big Chief Petty Officer in charge of the space gym said. "Now get your bikes and get your asses off the platform, or the next wave is going to land on your heads."
The two units picked up their bikes and headed for the airlock.
Rod's unit had just stowed their bike and were headed for the locker room when Rod caught sight of Smith waiting near the equipment room door. In all the excitement, Rod had forgotten Smith's invitation. He dropped behind his teammates, then turned back and met up with Smith.
"Glad you could make it," Smith said. If his smile and the bulge in his pants were any indication, he was telling the truth. "What happened up there?"
"An experiment in deceleration. Hey, we've got a few minutes before class, let me get out of this space suit and get a shower." The Guard's spacesuits were amazingly engineered, capable of keeping spacemen alive in the harshest of conditions, but Rod was sure that inside his he was pretty ripe.
"Not a chance. Come on in here," Smith said, and opened the door to the equipment room.
Rod followed him inside, and back to a little corner behind some cabinets where the equipment for sphereball was kept. Rod put his helmet down on a shelf, and turned to Smith.
Smith grabbed him and unsealed the gasket on the front of his space suit, then pulled open the inner seal. He shoved his face up against Rod's chest and breathed in deeply. "I haven't been laid since I got here," he said, burrowing his face into the suit. "All these men, and they all smell so good."
Rod leaned back against a supply cabinet as Smith started licking at his chest, peeling him out of his spacesuit inch by inch, devouring the sweat off of his skin. When he got to Rod's right armpit he dug in like a starving man, licking and sucking at Rod's armpit hair.
When he saw the look of ecstasy on Cadet Smith's face, Rod had to laugh. He pulled Smith's head into his armpit. "That's it, Cadet. Eat that armpit hair. Lick out my stinky pit."
Smith moaned into his pit and really dug in with his tongue, making Rod's cock absurdly hard in the suit's codpiece. He started moving Smith's head down in that direction.
As he unsealed the seam down the front of Rod's suit, Smith put his face right up close so he could get all the smells coming from the sweaty suit. The duranium plates and plastisteel weave came off, the smell of Rod's effort in the race rose up, and it looked like Smith was in the middle of a dream come true.
He got down to Rod's codpiece, and unsealed the seams on either side. The codpiece came free to reveal Rod's cock, standing proud, tall and eager. Instead of going down on it immediately, though, Smith buried his face in Rod's pubic hair, inhaling deeply. Smith fumbled at his own uniform pants, pulled his cock out and started stroking it.
"Hey, Smith, I don't mean to be rude, but we're due back in class..."
Smith responded by licking Rod's right ball, which shut Rod up immediately. Smith lapped at his balls with long broad strokes of his tongue, then started licking up Rod's shaft. Rod barely noticed that Smith was working the seams on the legs of his space suit, gradually leaving him in nothing but his space boots.
With a sudden lunge Smith took Rod's cock deep into his mouth. Rod groaned and grabbed at the cabinet behind him as the cadet worked at his cock with an expert throat. Just as suddenly as he'd started, though, Smith pulled off, and dove for Rod's feet.
He was working to get Rod's left space boot off when Rod cleared his throat. "Um... we really do have to get showered and get back to formation..."
Smith looked up from where he was kissing Rod's foot. "Have you looked at yourself?" he asked.
"Umm... what?" Rod asked.
"You're perfect. Every part of you," he said, kissing Rod's sole, "Is perfect. They starve us, and train us, and look at you. Hot young jock in perfect shape, fresh from a race, young and cut and perfect. Billions of life forms would kill to be where I am right now and I am not," he said, sucking Rod's toes into his mouth one at a time, "Going. To. Rush. It."
"Well, you're pretty hot yourself, Smith," Rod said, admiring his muscular back. "But if we don't get going, they're going to come looking for us, and-"
"Yeah, yeah, hush." Smith gave Rod's foot one last longing lick, and then went back down on his cock. The young cadet buried his face in Rod's pubes, trying to force Rod's cock down his throat. Looking down at Smith worshiping him, Rod had to admit he was right. Rod was usually in pretty good shape, but a few weeks of boot camp had turned his body into a beautiful machine, sculpted of muscle and sinew and tough smooth skin.
He grabbed Smith's head and thrust a few times. Smith didn't seem to object, in fact he was jacking his cock harder than ever.
Rod started fucking Smith's face for all he was worth. He held onto the cadet's head, short blond stubble tickling his palms as he plowed into his comrade's throat. Smith took it like a champ, drooling and snorting and gagging but never pulling away. Rod thrust into him, loving the feel of tongue on his cock, the lust in Smith's eyes when he looked up.
Having cum just a couple of hours ago in the doctor's office, Rod's cock was in no hurry to get this over with, but Rod was getting frantic. His unit was on a tight timeline and if he didn't get back he'd be in trouble for sure. He pounded into Smith's throat, feeling his orgasm approaching. Smith was choking, trying to take Rod's cock deeper and deeper into him, tears rolling down his face. Rod felt him groan, and then Smith was cumming with Rod's cock buried in his throat, his right hand beating at his own cock frantically.
Rod felt himself tipping over the edge, and he shoved himself into Smith's throat, holding the cadet's head to his crotch, feeling Smith's moans as he came. He felt Smith's throat working at his cock head, his tongue working at his shaft, and he kept himself buried in Smith's face while his jizz rocketed out of him.
When he let Smith's head go, the young cadet pulled off him, gasping and snorting for air.
"Gee, Smitty, sorry I got carried away there," Rod said. "I didn't mean to..."
Smith was coughing. "No, no." He stood up, wiping his face. "That was awesome. But we've got to get back."
"Yeah, someone's going to be looking-"
The door to the supply room slammed open, and Chief Gladney stormed in. "There you are! What in the hell is going on here?"
Smith was trying to gather up some of his clothes, but Rod just snapped to attention. There was no way to get his space suit on in less than thirty-five seconds anyway.
The Chief shook his head. "Well, what it looks like to me is that we've got two idiot cadets who got caught up in a spacesuit safety drill and lost track of time, is that right?"
"Sir, yes Sir!" Rod and Smith both agreed instantly.
"And what's that on your face, Smith?"
"Sir, my suit had a coolant leak, Sir!" Rod said, putting every effort into keeping his eyes straight ahead of him and a smile off his face.
"Well, that's a problem. You'll get your ass back here at 2100 hours to field-strip and test your suit. About five orbits should do it. Now both of you get back to your units! Now!"
Cheif Gladney hounded them out of the equipment room, grabbing their gear as best they could, and into the deserted locker room. He berated them while they got back into uniform, and then sent them on their way with a good number of demerits.
Outside the gym, they double-timed it back towards the classrooms.
They were passing by the shooting range when Smith caught up to Rod. "Hey, Hardy?" he said.
"Yeah?" Rod was thinking about how he was going to smell for the rest of the day.
"Could you do me a favor?"
"Sure."
"Could you call me Smitty in front of the guys sometime? I kinda liked that."
Rod glanced over at the young cadet keeping pace beside him. It was strange to see a shy smile on the chiseled features. "Sure thing, Smitty."
The rest of the day was eaten up with signals classes, propulsion basics, and astrogation, with about twelve minutes for dinner and then weapons drills in the simulators until 2030. 2100 to 2200 was supposed to be their chance to study and read mail, but it rarely seemed to work out that way. Most of the cadets pulled some sort of extra duty.
Rod had spent the day stewing in his own sweat, and would have loved nothing more than a chance to shower, but instead he hauled himself across the base again to the space gym. He spent twenty minutes field-stripping his suit, then the rest of the hour frantically trying to keep a one-man bike aloft for five orbits. By the time he'd finished and stowed his gear it was time to tear back to the barracks for final roll call, so he still smelled a lot more distinctly than usual when he hit the rack.
Twenty-three minutes later he was sneaking out of the barracks. He carefully snuck by Mancuso, the cadet on watch, who considerately turned his back at just the right time. Rod made a mental note to return the favor whenever he could.
Again, he found himself heading to the space gym. He gave up on stealth when he left the barracks, as seeing someone behaving sneakily on a military base was a lot more likely to cause trouble than a cadet violating curfew. When he got there, he headed towards the surface, and then back towards the access ports for the wrestling globes.
Brock was waiting for him. "You're late."
"Yeah, but I brought cookies," Rod said.
"Really?"
"No." Rod started shucking off his uniform. "Can we get on with this?"
They both undressed silently, and strapped on their duranium wrestling cups. Then Brock climbed up the ladder and undid the hatch to bubble number 3.
As they climbed up into the tube they felt the artificial gravity of the asteroid die away, until halfway up the opaque cylinder they were floating in microgravity. When he reached the bubble's hatch, Brock opened it, then entered.
Rod followed him into the transparent bubble, and gasped. The transparent bubble showed him the whole base around him, Saturn overhead, and he could even spot a pack of space bikes racing out near the docks. He hung momentarily in the middle of the dome, amazed.
Then he saw that Brock was attaching tethers to the hardpoints on the dome, and his reverie was broken. Whoever lost here tonight was going to be tied suspended in the center of the dome and fucked. He was really hoping it wasn't going to be him, because Brock didn't seem like the considerate type. Brock was in the running for the best zero-g wrestler in class, though, and Rod had only been wrestling since he'd gotten to the Academy.
Brock finished up with the tethers, and then started the bubble's wrestling sequence. Jets of air from the sides of the dome blew both of them into the geometric center of the sphere and kept them there while they got into their starting position. With one hand on each others' waist and the other on each others' necks, they squared off face to face.
"You smell like balls," Brock said.
"It's been a long day." Rod watched the countdown projected on the dome and braced himself.
Just as the timer hit the yellow, Brock smiled, a vicious, calculating smile, and said "You want to wave hi to everyone?"
"Huh?" Rod looked around. There were people in bubbles one and four, and in bubble six off to the side. It was most of their squad, watching them, and apparently cheering.
The timer hit the red at that moment, and with Rod's attention elsewhere, Brock had him in a hold instantly.
As Rod struggled to escape all he could think was, "Yup. I'm so fucked." __________________________
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