See original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritarian/ravens-claw/) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty TODAY at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.
Daniel smiled. He had decided that the Assistant Coach Matt Sparks would be his personal project. Using their protocols, technologies and developments alone, they would break the AC. Corporate, damn their eyes, was absolutely right; getting this guy to market as a submissive and complaint muscle-stud slave would be the ultimate triumph. He was already spending his stock options while he slowly caressed his own leaking erection. 'Hmm,' Daniel thought, 'I wonder if I have enough to buy him for myself...' He yanked his hand away as he realized just how close that thought had brought him to ruining a very nice pair of shorts.
WARNING: This chapter contains a description of a VERY DISTURBING video showing a CGI portrayal of brutal and viscous father-son sex. Please skip the section outlined with ^^^^^^^^^ if that is likely to upset you (it upset me!). It exists simply because it is needful to explain one of the characters.
Raven's Claw 4: Points
By Bear Pup
Daniel was a bit muzzy and still blinking sleepily. He had hated mornings his entire life, then chosen a life's-work that had him at work by six every fucking morning. The coffee was finally starting to kick in, though, which helped -- along with one of Redmond's early creations when working on stim-chem. Nicknamed Folgers, it had been useless in providing erections or other sexual effects, but was quite effective on focus. Ravensclaw, Inc., had already licensed it to one of the major pharm companies. They'd be rolling it out as a competitor for Nuvigil in less than a year, and both companies stood to make a fortune in this sleep-deprived world.
Mornings, however, were critically-important in the protocols. While not everyone wakes up with morning wood in the wide world, they sure as hell did in the new universe Raven's Claw.
Travis was still on from the overnight shift and Rob had just arrived, disgustingly-chipper. Howie was in the room as well along with Dr Wilkin and John Weatherman, the tall, pale Protectorate the subjects knew only as Tze-Xun. They were going over some of the day's plans as the caffeine did it's morning job, and Rob and Travis did theirs. Other started to trickle in as well.
"Sean's up... and up, of course," Travis smirked. Sean without an erection would be headline news and his internal clock always woke him around 6:30.
"Start a morning pattern on Aaron, then." Daniel was proud that the carefully-timed pulses of prostate stimulation were well-honed for morning wood, close to 100% success with erections, 80% for significant sexual arousal and over 40% with an urgent need for sex on waking. Daniel watched as Sean draped himself artfully so that every one of his best features would be displayed to maximum effect when Aaron woke. "Make sure you keep orgasmic response clamped down. No wet dreams this morning, guys."
Aaron woke himself with his own moan and popped upright in horror. He looked over at Sean and started to shake with a mixture of mortified embarrassment and unabated animal lust.
"Morning, sleepyhead." Sean stretched luxuriantly in the low light. The rooms all had an artificial but effective dawn-glow by that point. "Sleep well?"
Aaron swallowed several times and then moved like a sleepwalker to the side of Sean's bed. Sean watched him like a hawk, as did the half-dozen men in the monitoring room. Aaron stopped, trembling, just short of the bed itself, not quite letting his leg touch the one Sean draped over the side.
"Y-y-y-y-you, um, you said, you said it was okay to t-t-touch without, um, you know, even asking?"
"Always, Aaron." The boy's hands nearly shot forward and Sean moaned as he felt the hands stroke his skin. A series of high-fives erupted in the control room. All they had to do now was make sure it set deeply enough that Aaron had the courage to do the same with a teammate, not just Sean.
"Damn, Aaron, you are so, so hot. Can I, um, do more than touch, mate?" Aaron nodded spastically and let loose a moan loud enough to echo in the monitoring room as Sean's mouth took the youth's dick deep in his throat. Aaron threw back his head and stood trembling, then looked down and literally dove into Sean's crotch, rooting like a bear with honey.
"Um, guys?" It was Rob's voice. "I've got something strange on the sick bastard." The audience turned from the hot 69 action to the monitor with Assistant Coach Sparks. He'd flogged himself to sleep in near-screaming frustration and had woken earlier, perhaps around 4:30, returning immediately to the 'rebel' porn site. He screamed in rage when the screen flipped from a scene with a woman getting spit-roasted on a sling between some skinhead types, to an intense edging scene where two guys used a vibrating wand to drive another guy, tied to the chair, to a begging, screaming need to cum.
"FUCK! I hate this fag shit!"
"Not as much as you will in a minute," Rob muttered. He really didn't like this guy, which made the job so much easier. He flicked a switch to completely release the erectile block. He put one finger on a slider, instinctively pushing the prostate stim to max whenever the man in the chair got particularly vocal, and never letting it go below mid-level, constant stimulation.
"What the hell?" Daniel's voice shook a little. "Wilkin, look at the power indicator."
"Sensor failure." Wilkin's voice was confident.
"No, doctor, it's not. I can feel it fading and becoming erratic." Rob said.
"Impossible." Wilkin shook his head. "With the way he's flogging it, the piezo alone would power it, not to mention the feed off his body's EM field. Has to be a sensor." His voice was losing confidence quickly as he watched other gauges tell the same story. Power was failing.
"Dr Wilkin, it's a bad time to dismiss your own axiom -- everything is impossible until it happens. Now, snap past that and tell me if we'll lose orgasmic control."
He was shaking his head, but said, "Yeah. Yes. If the power rates continue as shown, we have, um, six or seven minutes, tops?"
"Fuck! Howie! Any idea how to salvage this?"
"Fuck-fuck-fuck. Uh, we'll have to switch him off. It will mean starting ov..." A fierce scowl took his features. "Damn it! I really, really didn't want to do this! Like, ever. Wilkins, get on the third station. I need your AV skills and need them now. Patch in video 903, right now, from start."
Everyone just stared at Howie. 903 was the most controversial piece of footage they had, and Howie himself had lobbied to have it destroyed. It was a nasty piece of work captured from a Russian ring a few years before and back-channeled to Raven's Claw. That fact that it was (apparently) cutting-edge CGI and not actual people did little to make it more palatable. "NOW!"
Wilkin jumped at the command and forced his shaky fingers to flip the AC's video feed to the scene. Daniel jumped forward quickly to make sure that the audio would be filtered. No one could stomach the audio track from this one.... well, no one, apparently, but the AC.
. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Stop Reading Here .
The scene showed a boy, young, pubic hair grown in but not much more. He was jacking off a four-inch dick to a gay rag. You only saw that for a moment before the view was occluded by the massive bulk of a man. A big-bellied, hairy brute of a Russian Bear. Even without the audio, everyone turned away from the monitor of the feed, focusing on the Sparks instead.
The man in the video clip was clearly the boy's father. They looked nearly identical except for age and size. The boy's eye got huge but he froze a moment too long. The man was screaming obscenities as he grabbed the magazine and began to beat the kid with it, brutal slaps to the face, back and forth, over and over.
Everyone jumped when the AC's voice growled out, "Fuck yeah! Show your kid what being a fag will get him. Fucking queer. Give it to him, you Commie asshole."
Even Howie gasped at that. His voice was shaking. "R-R-Rob. Transfer controls to Wilkin, then put on your headphones and go back to the regular subjects. Travis, headphones, now! I'd suggest everyone but Wilkins take a coffee break. This is gonna be bad, real bad." There was a mass-exodus to the door, leaving only the two headphoned techs, Wilkin who was white as a sheet, Howie and Daniel.
"Sorry, Howie. I don't want to be here and may puke, but I can't leave you in this without cover." Howie nodded brusquely. On the monitor, Sparks was jacking himself and licking his lips, utterly enthralled with the scene.
"Wilkins, stim to max and leave it there unless we're close to losing power, then holler." The video clip showed the brute wrench his son across his lap and rip the boy's pants down and off. He proceeded to lay into a remorseless, merciless thrashing. He beat the kid's rapidly-reddening ass without any sort of restraint or concern for his own son's body or mind. Even with the sound filtered, it was clear the kid was screaming in Russian and sobbing, begging for his father to stop, begging to explain or even just to have a moment's respite. When the father spit into his hand to make the slaps more painful, the AC spit into his own before returning it to jack his cock, relishing the savagery. 'Damn, this guy is a twisted fuck,' Daniel and Howie thought at the same time.
Sparks watched, eyes glowing, as the boy stiffened suddenly and threw his head back, howling in Russian. When the father roared in rage and disgust, flinging his son to the floor, the AC's other hand moved to massage his hefty balls. The boy was spasming from his spanking-induced orgasm, jizz pumping steadily.
The father grabbed a handful and smeared it into his son's face, slapping him brutally, but the orgasm continued. With a bellow of rage, the father dragged his hand through the puddle and flipped his sobbing, weeping, begging son over. He swiped his hand through his son's ass-crack and mounted him heartlessly, ramming inch after thick inch into the obviously-virginal boy's asshole. The AC crowed in delight at the scene of vicious, cruel, violation. His hands were working like pistons on his cock and balls as he reveled in the brutality and violence, exhorting the brute to hurt the kid more and make sure he could never gain a moment's pleasure from the horrific act.
. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ Start Reading Again Here .
"Howie, we're losing power!" Wilkin's voice rose over the sounds of Daniel vomiting powerfully into a wastebasket.
"Quickly! Pull the clip of Junior coming out of anesthesia. Got it? Set it to loop for six seconds. Add reverb to the audio and switch when I tell you. Drop the orgasm-suppression... NOW!"
To the sounds of pain and shame and horror, both the father and Sparks started to blast their loads, one into the whimpering, screaming boy and the other into the air. Sparks was screaming obscenities and delight at the screen. Suddenly, the image was replaced by Junior's puffy, drowsy face as his son's voice said, sleepily, "Daddy?" Rocked by the switch, the AC was unable to change the course of his explosive, long-denied eruption. His son's piteous, confused and worried voice echoed and repeated: "Dad-d-d-dy? D-D-addy? Da-a-addy-y-y-y?" as the man's semen sprayed across the room, slowly subsiding. It was the most-intense, prolonged and horrifying ejaculation of his life.
Howie's voice was shaking. "Shut the bastard off." Wilkins threw a switch and Assistant Coach Sparks flopped back, instantly unconscious even as he continued to leak jism. "Send a security detail down to sedate the sick piece of shit and get him onto your table. Replace the fucking implant and make damned sure the new one works. I can't do that again, Wilkin. I can't. It's not in me. And shackle that monster to the bed when you've finished the implant. One other thing. Do NOT clean up the room or that fucking bastard. When he wakes up, it will be in a sea of his own dried cum and the memory of how it got there."
Vinny woke slowly, rock hard and moaning slightly. He scratched then started to stroke himself. "Oh, God. Oh, that feels good." He cracked his eyes open and all breath left his body. Ned was across from him, his legs tangled in the sheet. He was on his side and Ned's dick was hard and in view. Vinny stroked harder for a moment then Ned shifted. Vinny froze and wrenched his eyes away, screaming inside at his weakness. He tried to think of one of the big-tittied cheerleaders going down on him and started to shake as his hardon flagged quickly.
On the very edge of tears now, Vinny looked over as his teammate started to stretch. His cock came back to life and seemed to itch with need. Vinny whimpered, closing his eyes tightly to hold back tears. This couldn't be happening. 'I will not cry. I am not weak. I am a man. I will not cry. I am not gay -- WEAK! WEAK! I am not WEAK!' he started panting to keep from sobbing.
'I will not cry. I am not weak. I am a man.' But no matter how often he repeated it, his dick wilted and shrank. Only looking at his hunky teammate and thinking of touching the boy changed the condition. He lost the battle against crying and silently let the tears stream back, filling his ears and soaking the pillow.
Vinny frantically stifled his tears and tried to wipe away all evidence as the light brightened marginally and Ned started to waken. A soft voice pervaded the room, quiet, calm, musical but insistent. "It is six-fifty am. In ten minutes, you will be waking up if you are not already awake. In ten minutes, you will get out of bed and start your day." He listened to it repeat each minute, counting down, a little louder each time.
Around the time it got to 'four minutes' Ned made a loud schnork noise and came awake. He rubbed his eyes with one hand and scratched his rampant cock and itchy nuts with the other. In that half-doze of wakening, Vinny saw him pull the scratching digits to his face and inhale deeply, purring over the scent of his own musk.
Involuntarily, Vinny let out a whimper and turned away just as Ned turned toward him. "Dude. Mor-r-r-r-r-rnig. Unnnnh." His hand went back to playing with his tackle. Then froze. Slowly the previous day and night came back to him. He thought for a minute and mentally went, 'fuck it', and kept right on pulling. It felt good and he didn't give a flying fuck what that prick Vinny thought.
Vinny railed, and railed hard, every time he glanced at Ned's ministrations. It was clear the boy wasn't exactly jacking off, just enjoying the feel of his morning wood. Ned jumped a little when the voice announced three minutes, but went back to slow, luxuriant strokes. At seven, the light slowly ramped to full and the voice was clear and crisp.
"Good morning! You are awake now. Pulling the covers up will not help. Get it over with, guys. Rise and Shine. Your door is now unlocked and you can reach the bathrooms. Don't bother showering as you will be doing that in the Gym." It repeated variations on that for a bit as Vinny rushed over to piss in the urinal. Groggy and rampant, Ned stumbled toward what he thought of as 'the head', a term his dad had always used from his Navy days.
He smiled sleepily as Bobby came out followed by the AC's kid, Junior. "Sup?" Both boys were smiling contentedly and Ned could tell at a glance that both were chubbed coming off the dropping of a morning load. He smiled.
Bobby loathed morning. It was the worst time of every bad day. Today, though, he drifted toward wakefulness warm, happy and content. He froze when I recognized a snore and almost panicked when he realized he was spooned into someone's arms. It took a few minutes for the previous night to reassemble at which point his aching dick started to twitch wildly. Junior, no, Matt was snuggled into him; one or the other had switched beds in the night.
There was a voice whispering something he couldn't give a fuck about as he heard Matt stop snoring and freeze in the same panic he'd just overcome. Far more quickly that Bobby adjusted to the situation, Matt came to himself and reached down slowly to cup and fondle Bobby's balls and then stroke his cock.
Bobby moaned high and needy and Matt whispered, "Someone woke up happy." It took all of five minutes for Matt to slowly, carefully and aggravatingly drag Bobby to the brink. He was cussing and moaning like a sailor with a whore when Matt finally relented and flogged him quickly with powerful strokes. Bobby screamed when the orgasm hit him, flooding the sheet, his chest and Matt's hand with his load.
He moaned again as he saw Matt's hand withdraw and even more loudly when he heard Matt tasting his cum. He'd never felt such power and lust in his life. He flipped around and plunged his mouth onto Matt's cock, yanking a surprised groan from his teammate. He choked and gagged twice before finding the right depth and rhythm. The long tease of Bobby had left Matt with zero reserves and he came explosively in less than a minute. He could feel the tears prickling his eyes, the pleasure was so intense. Spontaneously, he pulled Bobby up and kissed him, hard, surprising both of the boys. He could taste his own seed in his buddy's mouth.
"Good morning! You are awake now. Pulling the covers up will not help..." caused them both to burst into giggle.
"Um, yeah, I think we're 'up', dude." They cuddled for a minute then climbed out of the sopping bed and smiled at their disheveled appearances.
Paul woke to the familiar sound of fapping. His brother, Christos, always brought himself off in the morning, so it didn't really bother Paolo at all. He rolled over to look sleepily at Jackson who looked over and said, "Dude, we've roomed on the road. You know I'm gonna yank one out in the morning."
"Yeah, preto, no trouble. I'm not gonna join you, though. " He smiled crookedly at the large, ebony bruiser, "I'm gonna see which one of the pretty boys wants to take care of me instead."
Jackson's eyes flew wide and then closed. Jackson moaned at the thought of Junior's sweet lips around his black cock, or maybe Ned with those sultry glances and quick blushes. "Fuuuuuuuck!" He unloaded his baby batter all over his ebony skin. The "Good morning" message started.
"Dude, I'm not washin you off this morning, preto. You take care of your own self. I'm gonna see about the bathroom." He waggled his eyebrows and left the room. Jackson looked down at his torso, blobs of cum gleaming. The wickedest, nastiest smile he'd ever had spread across his face.
He walked into the common room and saw Aaron freeze and gasp, "Holy fuck!" under his breath. Jackson smiled at the young beauty.
"Sup, Aaron." He looked down at his teammate's not-quite-flaccid but obviously very drained cock. "Looks like we both got an early start on lessons, eh, dude?" Sean came out behind Aaron and tousled his sleep-skewed hair. Aaron scowled at him then grinned sheepishly.
"And a fine morrrrnin to ya, Jackson, fine indeed. And yes, your tongue-tied friend may well be the best wakeup call I've gotten in many a long year, mate. You should try it."
Aaron looked mortified but he sucked in a breath as he saw Jackson's eyes blazing. "Oh, you can bet your pot-a-gold on that, Mr Lucky Charms." Aaron's cock made a bid for action independent of the frozen body to which it was attached and leapt to attention. "So, buddy, let's hit the head, huh?" Jackson reached out and steered Aaron by the shoulder to the W/C across the hall as Sean chuckled, then sobered. The man made a quick check on a digidesk and shot a message to Daniel and Redmond, 'Need 2 talk now. Conf B. 5 min.'
Daniel was there when Sean arrived, looking pale, upset and put-out. Redmond joined them moment later. "What's up with this summons, Sean?"
"Redmond, Daniel. You need to get samples from Aaron. That kid is unbelievable. If you haven't seen the tape yet, I'm sure Leo has plastered it all over the network. I couldn't control myself last night at all, and I just watched him ensnare Jackson without so much as a flirty giggle. Something's there, and it's something chemical, not just the looks."
"How sure are you it wasn't the teasing? We don't want to send Miles and his team on a wild goose chase."
"Ahem. Daniel, I saw the video. As per protocol, Sen had nothing, nothing at all in his system. Not even Folgers. Aaron claimed the prize that half the staff have been trying for over the last year and a half." Dr Miles Redmond keyed something into the digidesk for the conference room and Sean's face appeared on the screen.
"Bloo-oody Fookin Chrrrrrist, What the fook ayr-ya kid? GRUNGNGGNNGNG!!" the onscreen Sean shouted as he lost himself in the intense orgasm.
"I think quite a bit of that was actually in Gaelic, Daniel." Sean blushed.
Daniel's face was like a kid on Christmas. "Fuck, Sean. That was for real. You weren't throwing in a bit of acting? Anything?"
"No, boss. The opposite. I was damned determined that this boyo wouldn't get me cum until far, far later in the evening. You know me, boss. I'm not one to let me toys go early."
Daniel chuckled. "No, you're not. Okay, you go clean up. Ever for Raven's Claw, you reek of sex. Miles, we'll pull Aaron from class later. I want every bodily fluid that kid produces to be analyzed to death. We need what he's got, gentlemen, and I don't mind saying that we need it badly."
All of the guys watched as Aaron shakily cleaned up Jackson's chest in the bathroom, awed at the stud's intense focus on the smaller wrestler. When done, Aaron leaned up and whispered, "Thank you," shyly. Jackson's cockhead was peeking out he was so hard, and it took him forever to get soft enough to piss. Every single person in the room noticed, and every one of them wanted to find out why.
As each reentered the common room, his band would DING and the guy would make it over to the machine. The breakfasts were universally large and heavy on protein. Bobby actually had a steak and three eggs with a strange kind of heavy toast. Others got mixtures of yoghurt, nuts and fruit, thick ham-and-egg sandwiches, any number of things; only Jackson and Vinny got cereal.
The other thing that everyone noticed was the smell of man-musk and cum, many of them reeked of it, keeping themselves or other chubbed or boned throughout the meal. As they settled, the door opened and Curtis came in with a guy that Ned instantly thought of as Short Stack. He was short, perhaps 5' 5", and massively stacked.
"Gentlemen, this is Abdullah bin Assam. He is Howie's assistant. I suggest that you call him sir, coach or Ben. The obvious pun on his last name would be... ill-advised. Ben has no sense of humor and doesn't mind me saying so, but he does have a very well-developed sense of how to turn even a hardened jock into a quivering mass of worn-out muscles. Unless you want everyone to see you cry like a two-year-old, I suggest you keep him happy." Seven very worried stares watched muscle with under the hairy, dark-tan skin. Every one of them had memories of at least one coach they thought of as Ball-Buster. This guy looked like he was the one that taught them how to do it.
"Howie is taking care of some business this morning and, in a few minutes, Ben will join you in the gym. First, happier news. Your point tallies from yesterday up through Room-Lock are ready. There are a LOT of ways to earn points, gentlemen, but there are only a few that we need to cover right now; others are for later lessons.
"First and easiest, and the core of yesterday's Coy and Stud assignment, is The Look. When you successfully get someone to stare at your ass or lick their chops over you, it's worth a point. As an example, Ned got started early and did extremely well all evening. He has forty-eight points just from that." That got a murmur of approval and several back-slaps for the blushing Ned.
"Next is a successful seduction, when you get someone to absolutely fixate on you. Several of you achieved that but since Ned is already blushing, we'll use that as an example. Anyone who didn't see Bobby drool from both heads over the whole bananananana thing needs to pay more attention in class." Bobby had his face in his hands and even his neck was blushing. "Point ranges for seduction are based on subsequent actions. Ned earned five points for that.
"I said that The Look was the easiest. Well, I kinda lied. The easiest and most common point-generator for you is Orgasm. That's right, we're paying you to cum, gentlemen." That got a loud laugh. "All of you came yesterday or last night at some time, so it won't be hard to start earning. An orgasm is worth 5 points. Giving someone else an orgasm is worth anywhere from 20 to 40 points."
"Um?" It was Junior, aka Matt. "How do you, um, know? I mean, like, at night?"
"Son, Protectorate sensors will know which pores you sweat from and how often you blink. Trust me, you'll get your credits." That got a laugh, but an extremely nervous one.
"There are, believe it or not, orgasms that are not caused by penile stimulation and they are worth more. Our poster boys for that are, again, Ned and Bobby. For those that didn't see it, Ned made Bobby blow just from nipple work. Most husbands can't even achieve orgasm that way, and popping a husband off without touching his dick is difficult at best. Bobby earned 20 points for that and Ned earned 40. Damn good work to both of you." Bobby's face still hadn't come out of his hands and he looked like he was trying to worm his way into the fabric of the bench.
"Homework assignments are worth anywhere from 1 to 100 points, as are special merit awards. For an example of that, we'll leave poor Bobby for a minute so he can learn how to breathe again. Matt is our poster boy here."
"Um, Matt? Who is Matt?"
"It's Junior's actual name, Paul. I'm surprised you guys didn't already know that. Matt, can you explain, please?"
Matt had gone white as a sheet and started stuttering. The intimidating Abdullah bin Assam moved to his side and Matt visibly cringed away in terror. The man crouched and leaned in close. His voice was magnificent, soft and gentle, musical and very like the rich tones of a tenor-saxophone. "Matt, you never have to worry about what your father thinks again. He can't hurt you or anyone else, son. This is your family for now; treat your temporary husbands like you would your eventual real ones, okay?"
Matt stared at him and slowly the color came back to his face and a grim determination replaced his fear. "My name is Matt Sparks. People call me Junior because that is what Dad always told me I had to be called. I hate it. Please call me Matt or something else... please?"
A murmur spun through the room. The universally-reviled AC went down a major notch in everyone's books. Paolo got up and sat heavily next to Matt, nudging Bobby to one side. He put his arm around Matt and pulled him close. Everyone on the room thought the younger boy would burst into tears, including Matt, himself. That he didn't shocked -- and earned him a lot of respect from -- his teammates.
"So, Matt got several sets of special merit points. In fact, I've never seen The Howitzer hand out so many points so early. Matt got 11 points for his stamina and resilience in the side-run, and another 18 for his stallion-like performance in the showers." Matt didn't have it in him to blush, but he dropped his eyes.
"You'll note a new feature on your digidesks. It's a widget called Leaderboard. It will display the current point total of even man here." There was a flurry of activity as guys grabbed the closest digidesk and opened the application. It showed as follows:
Top Dog: Ned - 116 Stallion: Matt - 106 Stud: Jackson - 43 Bobby - 42 Aaron - 48 Paul - 35 Vinny - 7
Like they were on a single swivel, every single set of eyes turned to Vinny. It was Ned's turn to be viscous, "Dude, seven points? SEVEN? And we saw you cum all over Howie when he did ya in the shower. Maybe next time you'll do the fucking homework!"
"MISTER DARLING! That will be enough! Bullying over points is still bullying and will NOT be tolerated. Gentlemen, please check your digidesks again. That's right, Ned, you can lose points even more quickly than you make them!" Ned gasped as the numbers flickered.
Top Dog: Matt - 106 Stallion: Ned - 101 Stud: Jackson - 43 Bobby - 42 Aaron - 48 Paul - 35 Vinny - 7
"You didn't lose points yesterday because you had none to lose. That stops now. You can never go below zero, but penalties can range to 100% of your points, and even the things you've already spent points on. Misbehavior, disrespect of teachers or each other, malingering, cruelty, bullying -- all those and more can cost you, and cost you dearly.
"This morning is the last time that we will explicitly discuss who got what points or how, or what they've been spent on. Feel free to guess; it's a great motivator. You can ask, but the other person won't necessarily know anyway."
"Um, sir? You said spent? How does that work?"
"Glad you asked, Matt. All of you, please go back to the desktop and find a new widget called The Exchange. In there are things that are currently available to you, or will be once you earn more points. There are an endless variety of things, all with different prices. Very little is available to you right now. Probably nothing more than the simplest porn and the least-interesting games. Please note that for both, there is also a cost to use or view your purchase later. A unit is typically fifteen minutes and usually costs 5 points." The least-expensive items were 25 points each, and the cover art didn't make them look that enticing.
"Mr French, about the porn. We get points for cumming, right? Do we get points for cumming to porn?"
"Very good question, Mr di Silva. Yes, you get points for any orgasm. But please note, fifteen minutes with porn costs you five points and a simple orgasm gets you five. To push a pun, it's about as valuable as masturbation -- it gets you nowhere." A chuckle ran around the room.
"However, remember that giving someone ELSE'S an orgasm is worth considerably more points. For most men, pornographic stimulation greatly increases the speed and intensity of an orgasm, and access to seriously hot shit is highly likely to get you, shall we say, willing friends?" The guys were quiet as they mulled it over.
"Um, can we, you know, get samples before we buy?"
Carter laughed. "I've never heard it put quite that way, Aaron, but yes. Porn comes in three types, stories, photos and videos. By the way, the time you are allotted in a unit for written porn is far longer and based on your measured reading and comprehension level. For one point, you can get a preview or, in the case of stories, an excerpt and overall summary. Any other questions? Excellent." Every band DINGed and they trooped off, muttering to each other, toward the gym.
Ben, the quiet Arabian hunk, quickly got the boys sorted on various pieces of equipment. The routine was simple. After showing precisely how he expected every machine to be used, he set a wrestler loose on each. The boys spent fifteen minutes at that machine. When Ben blew his whistle, they rested and drank water for five minutes than moved one machine-type to the right, the last guy coming back to the first.
The guys very quickly learned that Ben could see everything, everywhere, all the time. The slightest sloppiness of form or lax speed would find him instantly there, glaring in a terrifying manner and patiently, softly, slooooooowly re-explaining the exercise like he was talking to a learning disabled eight-year-old for whom English was a sixth language. It was intensely humiliating and incredibly effective. He never once raised his voice.
He was also willing to praise extra effort. Matt had little upper-body strength, but he pushed through the reps on those machines ferociously, obviously at his very limits. For Jackson, it was cardio and for Bobby it was leg-strength. Pushing through to complete a set earned soft, warm and incredibly-encouraging reinforcement from the dark man. They were deeply attached to the quiet coach from that moment on.
About halfway through, Howie came in. His manner was more... coachlike, with plenty of invective and hollering and insults-to-manliness, but always good-natured. Today, he spent special time with Paul, getting the Brazilian to push himself well beyond his normal range. Every guy there prayed unceasingly for that magic DING that meant he 'had to' got to the food machine and get a snack or meal. Lingering over it, though, was a Very Bad Plan.
Above all the others, Vinny pushed himself to the very limits on every exercise. Throwing himself into the work like a fiend to burn off the shame, rage and worry over his sexual response. He watched his teammates constantly, desperately trying to regain that cool, cocky, confident, straight -- STOP IT -- mask he'd worn so well for so long. But every flex of a glute or bounce of a cock made his dick surge, every bicep and waft of scent -- oh, fuck, the scent! -- of the guys sent into bonerville.
The guys were universally exhausted and (except Vinny) elated at the end. Mutters and murmurs made it clear that they'd never had better workouts in their lives. They were athletes, and that impressed them as much as anything. The consensus was unanimous: Protectorate protocols ROCK.
Howie and Ben trooped them into the shower, this time assigning shower buddies. Ben would partner with Bobby, Paul with Matt, Aaron with Ned, and Jackson with Vinny. The instructions were simple: Neither person could wash any part of his own body but they would get clean or die trying. Everyone but Vinny just sighed.
Matt was about to cream himself before they started. He was, for the first time in his life, getting to touch the body of the person who had taken him under his wing. 'Paul's Puppy' practically wagged. Paolo? Paolo loved both the attention and the soft hands all over him. He was most-shocked with his ass. When Matt's hands slid down the crack, the normally-stoic young man almost groaned the sensation was so overwhelming, wonderful and unexpected.
Matt noticed just how much impact his attention had on his hero. How could he not as he was cleaning the young man's glans and foreskin. He looked up, intensely nervous and scared, but determined. "P-P-P-Paul, c-can I, um," he smiled tremulously, "I could get you five points if you want?"
Paul's ego spiked at that and he smiled down at his puppy. "Afraid not, camarada." Matt's face fell and he looked like he might be sick. He'd just propositioned his ultimate ideal man... and been shot down in flames. "But I think we can both go for 25. What do you think, garanhão?" He leaned down and let his breath tickle Matt's ear, "That lingua portuguesa for stallion." Matt couldn't speak, could barely think.
He felt Paul's hand enclose his dick and whimpered. He bit his cheek hard enough to taste blood in his effort to make sure Paolo came first, and almost succeeded. What blew him over the top was when Paul leaned down and whispered, "I always wanted you to do this, you know, filhone, my little pup?" And the floodgates opened, complete with moans and whimpers. Paul followed quickly as Matt had gone nuts with both hands on his cock, dragging his eruption from his balls.
Ned leaned into Aaron's space and whispered quietly, so no one can hear. "You should never shower, Aaron. I never said anything because, you know, I didn't have the guts and thought the guys would kill me. But your smell has given me wood since the first time Bobby had me over to your house." Aaron gasped, hand shaking as he began to wash and be washed by his brother's best bud. "I was, what, nine? I didn't even know what a dick was for and your scent made me rock hard."
Aaron was completely flustered at this. Everything was moving so fast. He had never really thought about guys at all -- well, just a little. He never, ever thought of them when he jacked off! But Sean had gone nuts and gave him the greatest night of pleasure he'd ever imagined. Then this morning, he'd practically raped Sean into a 69. Now his little brother's best friend was saying he, Aaron, made him hard just being around.
They could hear Paul and Matt erupting, moaning to beat the band. Ned raised an eyebrow, "You wanna?"
Aaron just shook his head, too undone to even answer. Ned looked less unhappy than... wistful. As if he could wait until Aaron was ready but really, really didn't want to.
Vinny was terrified, nearly out of his mind with fear. His body screamed for him to reach out and touch the black muscle-giant but to do so would shatter a lifetime of glass walls. He moved in fits and starts like a glitchy automaton. Jackson solved the problem, grabbing his hand and filling it with cleanser then bringing it to his ebon chest. Vinny gasped as Jackson began to wash him as well and simply... let himself do the same.
The instant his hand started to move, his dick went from a flaccid worm to an iron spike instantly. His breathing got short and he pulled back and felt himself start to wilt. Jackson reached down and tilted Vinny's chin up. "Vinny, the world doesn't work the way it used to, brother. You gotta relax or die, man. Seriously, just chillax. Everything's fine. I don't want to be washing your smelly white carcass, dude, but it's what we do to survive. Just, you know, go with it."
Vinny wanted to scream that he couldn't 'chillax'. Parts of him, parts he's sculpted since he was a child, were dying with every swipe of his hand. He did something then he hadn't done in living memory. He cried in front of a teammate.
Jackson noticed and pulled him closer, petting down his back and sides. "Vinny, you're a good guy. We all are. Stop beating yourself up. You, uh, know how Paul and I got those points? The two straightest studs on this planet? We got each other off last night. And you know what? It didn't suck, man. I can't imagine a life without pussy, but I'm gonna live. Just like when your ancestors shackled mine and dragged our asses to America in chains, dude. Mine buckled down and survived. You have GOT to loosen up. Now get with the program and wash me off. I reek, dude!"
Vinny, in a trance, did just that. When he finished with Jackson rather imposing erection, Jackson leaned down again. "You got seven points total, dude, You wanna make these fuckers happy and get each other off? You know, just for show? You've gotta be dying, man." Vinny choked back a sob and pulled away. It had nothing to do with whether he wanted to, it was whether he could and still be Vinny.
"Bobby, it's okay. I'm only intimidating in the gym. Outside, I'm almost embarrassingly-nice." Bobby looked down --- DOWN!!! -- at the massive man. "Just wash me off, my friend, and I'll do you. Okay?" Bobby started to wash the pocket Hercules, finding himself desperately biting back moans of pleasure as the mass of muscles found every crevice of his body. "Son, if you don't breathe, you're gonna pass out." There was an infinite store of kindness and concern underneath that smile.
"I, um, I-I-I-I, um d-d-don't want to just wash you?" It wasn't a question, he knew intellectually, and he didn't care.
Abdullah bin Assam leaned in and stood on tiptoe to reach Bobby's ear. "You want to know a secret? Neither do I." Bobby's gasp of shock was music to the man's ears and he felt Bobby begin to probe and clean everything he could find. When the boy got to his incredible-sensitive ass, he moaned, "Oh, man, you got magic hands. Don't stop, please."
Bobby gained confidence by the second as the massive little man grunted and moaned in pleasure. He left one hand playing and teasing in the crack of the guy's ass and brought the other to his cock in a mixture of wonderment and awe. HE was doing this. HE was causing these sound, HE was giving real, immediate, wonderful pleasure! He let his finger twirl around the hidden pucker and exulted in the way Ben's breath caught. He listened as his shower-lover started to huff, then chuff, then grunt. Bobby nearly came, hands free, when the miniature giant began shaking uncontrollably and unloading all over them both.
When the orgasm passed, Ben looked into Bobby wide, wondrous eyes. "You want me to return the favor?"
Bobby slowly shook his head and smiled broadly. "No. That was fucking perfect just like it was." He got instantly contrite. "Unless you want to! Sure, I m-mean, of course you can!"
Ben smiled and patted his shoulder. "No, son, some things don't get better." He pulled the boy down so he could whisper in his ear. "Don't tell anybody, Bobby, but you're gonna find bonus points in your stocking tomorrow for saying, 'It was perfect just like that'. You are a really special guy, Bobby. I envy the husbands lucky enough to marry you."
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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay... Canvas Hell: 29 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/ Beaux Thibodaux: 21 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/ The Heathens: 22 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/ Lake Desolation: 15 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/ Shark Reef: 8 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/ Culberhouse Rules: 5 chapters .../incest/culberhouse-rules/ Raven's Claw: 4 chapters .../authoritarian/ravens-claw/
Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love (5 installments) .../incest/in-gods-love/