Different Planet Ch. 40

Numbly, he shook her hand. "Are you a d-docent?" he asked tremulously.

"Don't worry," she smiled. Somehow that didn't make him feel any better. "I'm on your side in the Rebellion against Authority! Your shift is almost over here. I'll help you with cleanup and then we can talk."

"OK," was all that he could manage. He was glad to have help cleaning up, considering all the bodily fluids the club was soiled with after a long night of play. Especially blood, but there was quite a variety, not to mention the artificial lubricants and flavourings that had been energetically spread around by various squirming female bodies. So many spread thighs revealing a bright pink in the gloom of the club, with juices dripping from damp pubic bushes, and there were plenty stray hairs from those...

"I was an idealist, at first," she told him after they had finally discarded the last pair of disposable gloves and found a couple of quiet seats Yolanda provided for them in the office. "I'd just completed my health degree and started work in a dormitory. I'm sure you're familiar with dorm life."

Gene nodded. He remembered his first time, trying to resist Sharina when she wanted him to undress and lie down on the milking bench.

Shug smiled with a memory, "Every time I made a healthy boy shoot his love-milk into a collection jar I was doing good work for society. Of course, it DID feel so nice, stroking those anxious young cocks, then squeezing out every last drop, seeing their eyes light up as I forced them to orgasm. Some boys could cum for me four or even five times a day, day after day, performing like a precision machine!

"Then, when the test results came back and I learned I'd harvested prime quality sperm, genetic material that would make a contribution everywhere, even to the remotest urbzone on the planet, I felt so proud!"

Gene nodded again, thinking of the young docents working so diligently. He'd seen their eyes light up, even just at the sight of a young man's erection.

"A year or two later, after I was transferred from a dormitory to a Milking Barn, where we took semen from UN-willing male subjects, I started to get cynical. I learned I got put there not because of my medical expertise, but because I had big tits and I was good at controlling recalcitrant inmates.

"Even so, it really was fun! The stuff they put in the boys' food kept them at an incredible arousal level and the semen output, well, I'd never seen such little fire-hoses! I discovered right away it was easier fulfilling my quota in a Milking Barn than in a regular dorm. There was so much of that supposedly precious fluid that there always seemed to be plenty left over. One day, I stole some and nobody even noticed; our production rates were so high!"

"To sell on the black market?" Gene was starting to get suspicious.

"Oh, goodness no. There's no black market, silly!" she laughed, "I wanted prime quality DNA for myself and didn't want to go through all the bother of applying and waiting in line for my sperm ration. So, one day -- I timed it with my ovulation! -- I just slipped some out when nobody was looking -- and believe me, by then, nobody was paying much attention anymore! -- and used a turkey baster. It was very potent stuff, took only just the one!" She patted her belly just above her pubis.

Gene gave her such a look of concern she hastened to reassure him, "Oh, don't worry, that was a long time before you were even old enough to be living in a dormitory, much less a Milking Barn!"

Gene relaxed a little.

"It's so much easier raising the genetically-superior little ones when there isn't a man around the house."

"You mean, you did that more than once?" Gene found that even more startling than those rumours of a black market in top-quality sperm.

"Long before you came along, so don't worry." It was hardly reassuring, considering the intimate attention so many of the docents had paid to him when he was a befuddled denizen of the Milking Barn. "But I'd much rather have gotten my sperm ration from enthusiastic, willing fuck-boys rather than the zombies the medications turned those boys into. I mean, during night-shift rounds, I could pull down a sheet, unbutton a boy's pyjama bottoms -- they were always fiercely erect, dreaming through the night -- then slip off my panties and mount a nice, young boy-cock for a ride that would curl my toes, not to mention flooding me with very potent semen. But the boys were always in such a fog, like it was making love to one of those android play machines!"

Gene understood. He couldn't remember how many times the white-coated women had taken him, for fun or impregnation. So many of the docents, he vaguely remembered, were pregnant all time! The faces blurred one into the other, though... Except the boss, Dr Winfrey, she was disturbingly, massively memorable!

"So you've got some people on the inside? You want to stop giving them the medications so they can escape like I did?"

"Not quite! We've got a much more dramatic idea. Would you be willing to go back inside? We've got some of the docents who think like me, but it would be a big help having you with us."

Gene wondered. Was this some complicated manoeuvre to get him back to the Milking Barn, cock and balls once again enslaved to (often very beautiful, he had to admit!) women in clinical white outfits? No, he decided, if Shug had been the one to rat him out, she'd have met him in the corridor before he'd even got to the club. A shiny green pistol would have fired a dart trailing a bright copper wire and he would be shaking, twitching, spasming, his eyes rolling up and his cock stiffening, pulsating in a cruel parody of orgasm. Then they would drag him away.

"Sure," he said, not really 100% sure, but she told him the plan anyway.