Different Planet Ch. 41 (Ending)

Gene and Shug cozied up together in bed in Shug's tiny apartment and watched the video on her tablet.

It showed the dormitory at night, rows and rows of young men sprawled on cots, a soft glow of blue lights from scattered electronic monitors. Some sheets were already tented by youthful dream-inspired erections. Doctor Winfrey stepped into view, crisp and proper in her white blouse, skirt and prim stockings. Her nametag, clipped on her lab coat over her enormous left breast, was just visible, glittering in the dimness as she ran her eyes over the sleeping forms. Her tongue flitted out and wetted her lips.

Then she looked up, appeared to notice the camera and jumped, startled as two hands came from behind her, hiked up her skirt and reached under.

She tried to turn, tried to pull away, tried to grab for her assailant and failed to do any of those things. The hands, now unseen behind her, had jerked her panties - also crisp, white and voluminous -- down over her meaty buttocks. When they caught around her ankles, she lost her balance and fell headlong across one of the cots. She didn't cry out, perhaps still thinking about all the sleeping boys in her charge. In fact, by the way she scrabbled at the mattress under her, it seemed she feared more that she'd fallen on one of them when she flopped forward than she worried about who it was that had grabbed at her privates and made her trip.

By the time she realized the bed was one of the few unoccupied ones, her assailant had relieved her of her panties, knocking her white, low-heeled shoes off in the process. Her skirt had flipped up, showing her huge buttocks, dark mahogany flesh squirming as she struggled to get up. She made it to her hands and knees on the bed, but when she raised her head the boy, holding the cotton panties stretched between two fists, used them to gag her, wrapping them around and quickly tying them off at the back of her head.

Muffled screams came now, as she grabbed for the gag, so the boy seized both her hands and pulled her on her back. She was strong, and fought against him, but by now others were coming into the camera's view. They moved slowly, rather zombie-like, in fact, shambling, machine-like, eyes unfocused, arms moving awkwardly. The only thing at all lively about them was the erections in their pyjamas. Even so, their combined strength was more than sufficient to hold her still, pull down her skirt, open her lab coat and blouse, push her brassière up -- scraping over long, dark nipples -- to expose her breasts. They left her stockings and garter belt untouched.

The lights came on then, and what little romance there had been in the dimness, a curvy woman pursued by healthy young men, men overcome with desire and longing in the dreaming night, all instantly turned coarse and pornographic as every detail came into sharp focus: the shiny black curls of the woman's pubic triangle, her thigh muscles tensing as the boys pushed her knees up and apart, her nipples straining erect, her eyes whipping desperately from face to face, her soft pink fingernails, so shamelessly colourful compared to all the white clothes everyone wore.

The boys not holding her captive lined up at the foot of the bed.

The boys not holding her captive or lined up, stood around her, stroking their erections.

One by one the boys knelt between her legs, pulling open pussylips to reveal a pink as bright as her fingernails, and plunged in, the strong youthful thrust forcing muffled gasps and cries from doctor Winfrey. Each boy, moved slowly at first, then faster, still disturbingly mechanical, their moans strangely unemotional. As he reached his climax, almost as if on cue, he looked in the direction of the camera. The view closed in. His face filled the screen, his eyes vacant, unfocused, mouth open, panting.

Then the camera pulled back, showing his cock withdrawing, still quite hard, his semen dripping from her, as if to prove he had, in fact, cum inside her, despite his undiminished erection. Soon the rest of her body was glistening wet and sticky too, as the boys surrounding her masturbated and ejaculated on her breasts, her belly, her face, even her stockinged thighs, held up and open by other boys waiting their turns.

Just when it seemed it might go on forever, as if she might be drowned in the shower, or her big belly filled to bursting, the boys holding her legs, as if by some unseen cue, hauled them up even further, opening her buttocks, a stream of semen flowing like a river from her vaj down the cleft between her arse-cheeks. Each remaining boy seized her now very slippery thighs to try to steady himself as he drove his now painfully erect penis into her semen-lubricated anus. Dr Winfrey screamed at each intimate violation, her back arched, her struggles intensified, but one by one the last few pairs of testicles emptied themselves into her, or onto her breasts and belly and her legs were finally released, to thump heavily down on the bed.

The camera showed her face then, the gag coming untied, her gasping hoarsely. One, two breaths, then hands seized her head and bent it down over the side of the bed. One last young man, one last erect cock, this one slamming into her open, panting mouth, pushing down her throat, brim-full testicles rubbing her semen-sticky eyes.

Writhing frantically on the bed, huge breasts heaving as she struggled to breathe, she looked almost like a woman ready to climax, but instead of building to orgasm her movements grew weaker, with only a brief spasm as the boy finally released the contents of his testicles deep into her throat, the camera again focused lovingly on his staring eyes and open mouth.

He withdrew quickly, leaving her to cough and gasp, a trickle of semen running out of the side of her mouth. The camera withdrew now too, as if the camera operator were backing out of the room. The dormitory looked much the same as it had when the scene had started. The boys had all dutifully returned to their beds. The room lights went off and the video ended.

"Do you think they'll recognize me?" Gene asked.

"Your face is never on camera," Shug said, shivering a little as she thought of Gene's hands coming up under Dr Winfrey's skirt to take her panties down, "Even so, we prepared you with those facial prosthetics and fake skin tone. You could have bung-holed her and stared right into the camera and you would only have been just another one of a dormitory-full of young men losing control under the influence of the enhancers they pumped into you." She reached over to wrap her palm around his stiffening cock, "I can see you're still enjoying the residual effects, even all those weeks later."

"I suppose so," he sighed pleasantly, "But that's another thing. How did the other boys manage that spectacular performance? I remember I was so muzzy and confused for the time I was an inmate I could barely do the routine tasks the docents ordered, like running the laundry or serving food in the cafeteria."

"They wouldn't have had the coordination to relieve Dr Winfrey of her knickers and gag her -- we needed you for that special mission! -- but they were still very suggestible," she began to stroke him, "Easily led around by their cocks or, in this case, their coaches. You saw the docents off camera giving instructions to the boys as they woke them up and pointed them in the direction of your little orgy. They were already primed, probably had dreams just like that every night."

"You're going to release that video?" Gene leaned over and kissed her breasts.

"We're going to put in some narration, an AI voice explaining about the evils of the Milking Barns, how so many boys are coerced into filling the semen pipeline, how the conditioning is so extreme it warps their minds, and finally how that conditioning can go terribly wrong, as this video shows."

"Of course, it didn't go wrong," he hugged her, enjoying the closeness, the final return to normality at last, the toxins finally out of his system.

"We're the only ones who know that," she said, reaching with her free hand to the shelf beside the table, "Doctor Winfrey doesn't know that because she didn't see any of the docents coaching the boys. The boys don't know anything, they think it was all a dream. And, most important," she handed him a flat box with a cute little pink ribbon, "The voters don't know it was all faked." She smiled impishly as he opened the box, "A souvenir of the time you changed history!"

There was folded white cotton in the box, rather a lot, in fact. Shaking it out, he found it was a freshly laundered, enormous pair of panties. Panties that had encased curves and muscles built up over years of a high-protein diet of boyish semen. Gene could even see little rips in the fabric where Doctor Winfrey's teeth had bitten through it when he'd used it to gag her.

"Now put that away," she said, rolling on her back, "And fuck my brains out, boy!"

And so he did.

The video went viral, voters were outraged, laws were passed. People were perhaps more willing to change the system because the population was recovering, growing strongly by now, and immigration was increasing. The Milking Barns were discontinued, or converted into regular dormitories, which still remained quite popular with many young men.

A few weeks after the release of the video, Sharina was sitting in a booth at the refurbished spaceport, discreetly viewing the video on a tablet in her lap as she waited for new arrivals. She'd never worked in a Milking Barn and the images of so many pumping, squirting young cocks moistened her vaj and stiffened her sensitive nipples.

Looking up at last, she saw a group of three young men walking in her direction. Putting on her most winning smile, she began her spiel, "Our colony is set to expand in the coming decades and centuries. For that, we need good genetic planning. We offer convenient, inexpensive housing and the opportunity to participate in our grand plan without taking away any time from the careers we know you ambitious young men will be working so hard at."

Were their trousers tenting as they caught sight of her tight blouse, her breasts topped with the quite visible bumps of her erect nipples? Or was it her soft, comforting voice? The voice that had coaxed so many boys to warm, loving orgasms, relaxing on her comfortable milking bench?

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This story from one of the oldest of Earth's far-flung colonies ends here, but there are so many human adventures out there among the stars...