It was early Monday morning as the van drove along the open country road. They had been traveling for nearly two hours on this warm spring day, passing small towns of a bygone era and wide open fields. Not that Steven cared. He and the other boys in the van, four in all, were being transferred to the new juvenile correctional facility in Hattis County. It was one of many new facilities constructed to house all the newly designated delinquents.
By early 2032 the people of the United States were fed up with juvenile crime. In the previous year alone the juvenile justice system had consumed just shy of a trillion dollars in federal taxpayer money, an astronomical amount by any measure. Americans and their politicians had finally had enough. In response, the federal government introduced and passed the Correctional Uniform Management program, or CUM, a federal program designed to rehabilitate delinquents through intense behavioral reconditioning.
The program, not without its critics, was based on training concepts used by the U.S. military, among others. Essentially boys would be physically and mentally broken down, then "reconstructed" as model citizens. No one was actually harmed by the program, but the participants would be pushed to their limits -- and beyond. Two years into the endeavor the results were encouraging. Juveniles who had been through the program had a 1.3 percent recidivism rate, a rate utterly unheard of prior.
Like all the boys in the van today, Steven had had a run-in with the law and eventually adjudicated as a juvenile delinquent. That legal designation had made him eligible for the program, and even mandated it in fact. He was not a hardened criminal by any means. He and his three friends had been drinking some beer, something that was illegal for 14- and 15-year-olds, and had taken a "borrowed" vehicle out for a joy ride -- a ride that ended when they rear-ended the county sheriff. From there they had all been processed through the system and committed to the program.
Steven's eyes lifted as the van slowed down. Apparently they were at their destination. He looked out the window at the scene before him. In the background was a large gray building that looked to be two-stories high. The building was surrounded by a 10-foot-tall fence. In front of the fence stood a sign identifying the building: CUM Facility No. 13. Steven noticed that all the boys were silent as the van passed through the security gate and pulled to a stop further up the drive.
"All right, boys," said a federal marshal who had ridden with them, "we're here, your new home for the foreseeable future. Behave well and you'll be fine; behave poorly and -- well, you'll see," he added ominously.
The boys were marched off the van and through a pair of double doors into the building. From there they were taken to a large open room with only chairs and plastic storage bins.
"Okay, boys," said a loud male voice, a security guard, Steven observed. "As you probably know, all boys are required to be naked. So remove your clothes and place them in the storage bins provided -- now!" The boys complied. They had been forewarned by their attorneys that this would happen, so no one was caught by surprise.
Steven looked around briefly at his three friends as they undressed. Chris, who was also 14 and had been his best friend for ten years; Erik, who was 15; and Marc, who was 15. They had all been together in their run-in with the law, and now they would be together in their incarceration, he thought to himself with a sense of irony.
Once naked the boys were instructed to follow the guard. "My name is Mr. Maxwell," he said as he led them down a hallway, a faint drawl to his voice. All the boys were trying to cover themselves as best they could, not that it did much good. "You are here because you are juvenile delinquents," he continued. "Well, we'll fix that." Steven noted, as did all the boys, that he said those last words with a wry smile.
Mr. Maxwell led the boys along the hall and to a pair of double doors. Above the doors was a sign, a sign that made all the boys tense up: Milking Floor. "Let's go, boys, let's see what's in store for you," he said as he opened the doors and motioned the boys through.
Upon entry the boys stopped dead in their tracks, their eyes wider than ever before and their mouths hanging agape. Mr. Maxwell took special satisfaction in this. The initial shock was good for the boys and often broke down any initial attitude. Laid out before them was a sprawling complex -- the Milking Floor of Facility 13. It was a sight none of them had ever beheld and would never forget.
Before them were teenage boys like them, all between the ages of 14 and 17, who were also naked. They were attached to what seemed like an endless variety of devices, all attached to their erect penises. The boys were all secured in some way, some with their hands above their heads; some shackled behind their backs; others with various straps around their arms, legs, and torsos. But all of them had pumping devices attached to their male organs, pumping away mercilessly.
As the boys tried to take it all in, they slowly became aware of just what was going to happen to them. The realization always had an amusing effect, Mr. Maxwell noted. At first the boys would be shocked and overwhelmed, but then -- ever so slowly -- they would become aroused. The guard noticed that it was starting to happen with the new inductees as well. He smiled quietly to himself.
"Let's move along, boys," Mr. Maxwell spoke up. "Come on, this way." The boys followed him down the aisle, continuing to take in and process all that they were seeing.
The boys on the floor were all being milked for their semen, that was obvious. They all had erections that were being worked continually by milking devices. All around the floor boys were moaning and groaning in frustration and ecstasy -- some wanting desperately to cum, others having cum too much.
"Please...ooohhh, plleeeaaasssee..." moaned one young guy, apparently unable to spurt.
"Stop!! Oh, God, please STOP!!" yelled another, apparently having spurt once too often.
The boys observed that some boys had devices inserted into their rectums, devices that made a humming noise and appeared to be vibrating. Then they noticed something else: all the pumps had tubes of some type attached to them, and many of these tubes were connected -- to their mouths!
Mr. Maxwell noticed the boys' observations and smiled as he often did. "Yep, that's right. Not only will you delinquents be milked for your semen, you'll also be eating it." The boys' faces contorted into looks of horror. "You see, we found that milking a boy multiple times broke his resistance physically, but making him swallow his cum, as well as others', helped break his arrogance." The boys stopped in their tracks, their gaze shifting between the floor, each other, and Mr. Maxwell. They would be fed their own splooge?!
"Yep," he said again in his slight Southern drawl, "by the end of the day you'll each be milked and eating each others' cum. Now come on, let's keep moving."
The boys shuffled along slowly, becoming more apprehensive with each progressive step. Finally they arrived to the back of the floor. The back wall was lined with offices from the look of it. A man walked out of one of the offices wearing a white coat and carrying a tablet.
"Boys, this is Dr. Milkem, director and head supervisor of this facility," said Mr. Maxwell.
"Good morning, boys," the doctor said as he adjusted his glasses. "As Mr. Maxwell has just told you, I am Dr. Milkem. I'm a medical doctor by training who specializes in behavioral rehabilitation. I will be responsible for your daily regimen." The boys focused all the attention they could on the doctor, distracted as they were by the surrounding sounds and sights.
"Now as I'm sure you've already observed and had explained to you, the corrective program revolves around concepts of behavioral modification. We have found that teenage males are especially responsive to this. We will push you to your limits, and past them," he added, both he and Mr. Maxwell smiling. "Your bodies will be milked of your semen every day until we decide you're done. But additionally, as you can see, we use tubes and mouthpieces to funnel the extracted fluid back to you. We have found that making boys consume their own semen and that of their peers has a way of breaking down their resistance, which in turn allows for more effective rehabilitation.
"Well, shall we get started?" he asked, as if the boys had any choice. He looked down at his tablet. "Let's see, Steven and Chris, I'll start with you. Mr. Maxwell, if you would be so kind as to take Erik and Marc to the next station, that would be appreciated." The boys looked at each other one final time before going their separate ways with the guard.
"All right then, boys, why don't we step over here," Dr. Milkem said, motioning them towards a strange contraption. The boys stared silently as they examined this new device, trying to figure out how it worked. Dr. Milkem broke the silence.
"This device is called The Buddy. It's what you'll both be attached to today," he said calmly. The Buddy, which both boys suspected was anything but, stood about chest-high on a thick column that was about two feet in diameter. The column had two holes, one on each side, which the boys surmised were penis pumps. Sitting atop the column was a transparent sphere partitioned in two, and attached to the sphere were two clear plastic extensions, each ending in a rubber-type mouthpiece. The boys looked helplessly at each other as they began to figure out how the device worked.
"Okay, boys, let's get you fitted up," said Dr. Milkem, motioning to two staff members standing close by.
The staff members directed the boys to their respective locations, one on each side of the device. The boys looked at each other in shock, realizing that they would be face-to-face the entire time. Their penises, already erect from the visual and auditory stimulation of their surroundings, were inserted by the gloved staff members into the pumping device. Then thick straps were placed around their knees and buttocks collectively, keeping them from pulling away. Their hands were positioned on the sides of the column and secured in placed by stationary straps. They were then directed to lean forward slightly and place their mouths on the mouthpieces in front of them. As they complied a final strap was placed around their necks, again ensuring that neither could pull back.
Having secured the boys in place, a staff member flipped a switch that activated the mechanism and then walked away with Dr. Milkem to tend to other business, leaving the boys alone. The pumps began their sinister work and started dutifully sliding along the boys' stiff cocks, gently caressing them from base to tip. Despite the utter shock of their day and the mutual embarrassment of being naked, both boys were beginning to experience just how effective these mechanisms were.
The pumps slowly slid from the boys' base, up their shaft, and gently rotated around their cock heads, causing them to squirm. After only a few short minutes, both boys were feeling really good. Their breathing deepened as the machine continued its wicked task, varying its speed slightly and hovering around their heads to provide maximum effect.
Steven and Chris continued to stare each other in the eye. Their faces were only about two feet apart, so there was really no other option. As the minutes passed, each teen realized that he was getting closer to his first orgasm. Steven looked intently at Chris, a growing sense of concern. His friend was breathing heavy and his eyes were becoming glassy. Fight it, he thought, hoping his thoughts would reach Chris, fight it! But of course they didn't.
Chris came first, his body convulsing through what appeared to be an intense ejaculation. He trembled and shook, his hips thrusting forward into the device as he grunted loudly despite the mouthpiece: "Hmph! Hmph! Hmph! Hmph!" Both boys shifted their eyes downward and watched as his semen spurted into his side of the receiver. One, two, three, four, five spurts, Steven counted to himself. Watching his friend cum was all it took.
Moments later Steven erupted as well -- "Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!" -- proudly unloading six spurts into the receiver, beating his friend by one, he noted with a sense of satisfaction. But his feeling was short-lived. At that moment both boys were startled by a humming sound. This, they quickly realized, was a vacuum pump. They watched with alarm as the vacuum slowly extracted their semen from the receiver and sucked it upward -- toward the mouthpieces! Steven's load was being directed to Chris, while Chris' load was being directed to Steven. The boys struggled against their restraints, but of course to no avail. There was no escape and they both knew it.
Steven looked over at Chris, who was in turn looking back at him with the same wide eyes. Then both redirected their attention downward toward the device. Their semen was slowly inching its way up from the receiver and to their plastic extensions. Excruciating seconds crawled by as the youths rapidly shifted their gaze from the clear plastic tube to each other. They knew what was about to happen, and each knew that they were powerless to stop it.
A look of horror came over the boys' faces as their adolescent emissions reached the top of the receptacle and slowly began moving through the extension tubes toward their mouthpieces. The boys tried again to pull back but couldn't. They tried to turn their heads but couldn't. They tried to verbally object, but once again couldn't because of the inserted mouthpieces. All they could muster were some pathetic grunts: "Hmph! Mm-mm!! Mm-mm!!" For all the good it did them.
At that moment the freshly extracted semen made it to the mouthpieces -- and into the boys' helpless mouths. Each blushed in mortified embarrassment as they were fed their best friend's spunk. The youths locked eyes as each realized that the other was experiencing the same thing -- the flow of his buddy's warm jizz from the milking device and onto their tongues.
Restrained as they were without any real options, each did the only thing he could and swallowed it. Steven watched as Chris' throat muscles contracted, a sure sign that he was swallowing. Not wanting to keep it in his mouth and having no other choice, Steven reluctantly did the same.
The pumps continued their unfeeling work, slowly massaging and stroking the boys' sensitive rods in an attempt to extract more of their male essence. The boys looked at each other in despair, neither knowing how long they would be there and how many loads they would be swallowing.
Dr. Milkem had been watching through a high-resolution security camera in his office and smiled with satisfaction. They had successfully milked the new participants -- and had totally humiliated them. And this of course was only the beginning. There were so many other devilish devices left. Yes, these boys would be milked over and over...and over and over and over...
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