textfiles/sex/EROTICA/S/spacepup.txt

Space Pup


   Monday, 18 July, 2104, 0600 hours:  Brad McCreary hated Mondays.  He
took another slurp of coffee, tried to stretch the morning kinks out of his
muscles, and look around at the seventy-five or so men in the lounge, all
of them waiting for the same shuttle, late boarding, as usual.  That was
fine with him:  Anything that gave him more time at Grissom Station.
   A "spacepup" clamored into the lounge, tripping over some crack in the
deck and dropping his brand new jump bag.  He attracted no little
attention, and turned a youthful red as he retrieved his belongings.  There
were several smiles and playful glances exchanged among the experienced
miners and spacers.  They all loved to fuck with the new guys, especially
the young ones.
   Brad smiled too, remembering when he was a "spacepup," as they called
them now.  He looked at the kid and wondered to which section he would be
assigned.  Brad thought he was a right nice looking guy, and though the
baggy material hid any show of cock, the way the kid filled the ass of his
spacesuit left nothing to the imagination.  That was one firm ass.
Probably virgin.  The pup was only about five-foot-five and looked all of
sixteen, but of course, he had to be at least nineteen.
   The kid noticed Brad staring at him, turned red again, and moved behind
a group of men standing near the boarding gate.  When the boarding claxton
sounded, Brad downed the rest of his coffee and grabbed his bag and helmet.
Like a herd of animals they flowed noisily to the waiting shuttle.
   Brad found his place quickly enough, only being particular in getting
his usual aisle seat.  He could have sworn the kid had boarded ahead of
him, but no, here he was coming down the aisle, jump bag in one hand and
helmet in the other.  Brad stretched out (as best he could), leaned his
head back, and closed his eyes.  He'd see what direction the kid's
interests would take. 
   Sure enough, he soon felt someone stumbling over his legs as they
maneuvered to get to the bulkhead seat.  Brad cracked one eye open and
watched the spacepup stuff his bag under the seat - his ass almost in
Brad's face.  The veteran grinned and then blanked his expression as the
kid plopped down beside him.
   The hatches sealed shut, and soon the space station was slinging them
out along the launch tangent. Immediately they were in free-fall - no
longer under the rotational influence of the giant station.  He heard a
moan escape the young passenger next to him, and he had to smile at the
wide-eyed expression that was becoming paler as he watched.
   "Kind of sudden, isn't it?" Brad asked.
   "Uh, yeah," was all the pup could reply.
   "My name's Brad."  He put out his hand and they shook just as the main
engines kicked in.  The kid's grip tightened as their seat-backs became
the "floor."
   "Jim.  Jim Hess," the kid replied, as he swallowed and squeezed his
eyes shut, still gripping Brad's hand.
   The acceleration only lasted a few seconds, and suddenly they were
weightless again.  Jim's eyes flew open and the remaining color drained
from his face.  "Oh...Shit," he said as he pulled his hand free and
began searching frantically about him.
   Brad reached over and pulled the puke-tube from its socket.
   
   "Falcon Industries Asteroid.  Only Designated Personnel may disembark."
   Jim awoke just as the announcement repeated.  There was still a
substantial lack of gravity, but just enough remained to give a sense
of "up" and "down."  For the orientation, at least, he was thankful.
   Brad loosened his harness and pushed free of the seat; almost hovering
above Jim.
   "Take care, kid.  And don't let'em talk you into the smelters.  Big
money, but a fucked up place to work."
   "I'll remember that," Jim said as he watched the spacer seal his helmet,
and Brad pulled himself away and into the flow of people traffic.
   It was a short skimmer hop to the main terminal.  From a distance, the
low, dust-covered domes looked like mushrooms squatting among the craters.
And above them was an endless sea of blackness and stars.  Once very bright
star marked home planet.  Brad had seen it all a hundred times before, and
he felt a slight jealousy, knowing what the pup would feel seeing it all
for the first time.
   As soon as he was through the air lock, Brad headed for the check-in
desk, his jet belt pushing him beside the guide ropes in the near-
weightlessness.
   "Hey, Brad.  How was the weekend?"  The man strapped in at the desk
greeted him.
   "Not bad," he replied as he thumbed the electronic roster.
   "Get any?"
   "Naw.  Mostly just rested and worked out."
   "You must be getting old, if your cock couldn't find a hole to plug."
   "Life's not all fucking and beer you know."
   "Well, it should be."
   Brad smiled and began to move away, but turned back and said, "Say,
Tom.  Think you can do me a favor?"
   "What's that?"
   "There's a new kid on board - name of Jim Hess.  I think he'd make a
good digger, and I'd be willing to train him."
   Tom's eyes went wide with surprise.  "I thought you hated trainees."
   "Right."
   "Sounds like you're in love."
   Brad growled, "Cut the crap.  Will you do it or not?"
   
   It had been a rough first day.  Two plasma bits had fouled, and then
the digger itself had broken down.  He'd still meet the quota, but there'd
be no bonus this week.  He jetted into the bunk room, thinking only of a
shower and some sleep.  He passed several men already in their 'coons as
he made his way to his own.  It was always hard to get the stink off him
in that plastic bag they called a shower.  Still, it was better than
nothing.
   Half dazed, he began to strip off the dusty spacesuit, and then the
lining he wore underneath - awkward in the next-to-nothing gravity.  At
times like this, he longed for even Luna's weak pull.
   "Hi, Brad."
   Naked, he flipped around and saw the pup belted into a chair.  In his
hand was an operating manual for a digger.
   Brad smiled, suddenly conscious of how his more-than-adequate meat
always flopped around in front of him like some giant wet noodle in the
mirco-g.  He watched the kid's eyes glance down and then quickly back up
again.
   "Hi, kid.  How was the first day?"
   "Okay.  Seems I got assigned as a trainee on a digger.  They gave me
this book."  He held it out for Brad's inspection.
   Brad too it from him, feigning ignorance and mild interest.  He had
practically written the thing.  He handed it back to Jim.
   "Have they told you who you're assigned to yet?"
   "Not yet."
   "I see."  Brad turned his back, smiling, then pulled his towel and
shaving kit from the locker next to his rack.  "Well, I've got to get my
dirty ass in the shower before I hit the rack."  He reached between his
legs and caught a hold of his dick.  Pulling the foreskin back, he
continued, And scrub the cheese off my cock."
   Jim stared at the growing snake.  Finally, Brad let go of it, the
long tube of flesh swinging wildly about his crotch as he launched himself
toward the shower area.
   Before Brad had vanished, Jim's over-active nineteen-year-old cock
had begun pressing against the fabric of the longjohns he was wearing.
He looked around him, and seeing no one near, let the growing rod free
of its confines.  It sprung up hard, as he gripped it about the shaft.
   He pushed his fist down;  the head purpling atop the pole he sported,
as it broke free of the foreskin.  His own lighter smell mingled with
that Brad had left behind.  He pulled the skin back up over the head and
then down again, preparing to begin some serious jacking-off.
   "Having fun, kid?"
   Jim looked up suddenly to see Brad hovering next to his bunk, grinning
madly.  He turned red as he fumbled to get his stiffer under cover, which
did nothing but make a huge, white tent above his crotch.
   Brad pushed over to where Jim was strapped in, reached into the hole
of the pup's skivies and pull the rod free again.  Jim watched, stunning,
wanting to tell the man to stop, not wanting to.  Then just as suddenly
as he had begun, Brad let go of the randy pole, slapped it once in fun,
and floated back to his locker.  He reached inside and pulled out a bar
of soap and said simply, "Forgot the soap," winked, and launched himself
toward the shower area.
   Jim stared after him, wondering if he should follow.  After several
minutes, he nervously decided he also needed a shower.  Despite the fact
that Brad had shown no shyness about zipping about the compartment with
a hard-on, Jim decided to wait until his own had subsided.  And it took
several minutes for his cock to agree with the decision.  Finally he
grabbed his things and glided toward the showers.
   Brad met him on the way back.  Quickly, his frown changed to a smile
as they passed.
   "Take a cold one, Hot-stuff!"
   Jim stammered, "Uh, I might," as he continued the glide, unsure as
to whether he was disappointed or relieved.
   He began to brake with the glide rope as he approached the bathroom,
and rounding a corner, he was there.  Standard white plastic walls
blended with standard space environment fixtures.
   Jim headed for the shower bag at the far end of the room, and clipped
his towel and toilet kit to the holder.  Behind him he could hear two
men enter the area - laughing and talking loudly as they floated up to
the shower bag next to him.  Jim twisted around to greet them, and was
surprised to see that both sported raging hard-ons.  He couldn't help
looking, and having done so, turned a shade of red.
   Both men looked to be about Brad's age, and both had at least a day's
 growth of beard.  Jim envied that ability.  A thick mat of dark hair
covered most of the stocky body of one man, whose complexion was rough,
and who was missing two fingers on his left hand.
   The other man, taller and thinner, was only slightly less hairy, with
most of that a light brown.  A long scar stretched down the inside of his
right leg.  His large nuts were tight against the base of his cock.  In
contrast the other man's balls hung loose, floppy in the zero-g.
   Trying to be nonchalant, Jim said simply, "Hi, guys."
   They stopped talking and one replied, "Hi, yourself," unabashedly
inspecting Jim's cock which drifted in front of him.  Jim turned a deeper
red and went back to preparing his shower.
   He heard whispers behind him and then, "You're new here, ain't ya?"
   Uncomfortable, Jim spoke back over his shoulder, "Yeah.  First day
actually."
   The other man spoke, "They designate you yet?"
   Jim turned full around, giving in to their need for conversation.  "Yeah.
They said I'm going to be a digger."
   "A digger, huh?" the hairy one replied and reached between his legs.
"By the way, my name's Bob and this is Dan."  Bob let go of his cock, but
not before rubbing his palm across the head, wetting it with the clear
stuff that had oozed from the tip.  He presented his palm to Jim for the
traditional shake.  The pup hesitated, and the smile faded from Bob's
face.
   "What's the matter?  Too good to shake a man's hand?"
   "Uh, no.  It's just that..."  He stopped for a loss of words and took
the spacer's hand, feeling the slickness in his palm.
   Bob's smile returned.  Dan offered his hand, and Jim felt more of the
same wetness.  He looked down at Dan's cock and saw the slit literally
oozing the stuff.
   "So, Jim," Dan began.  "Maybe you'd like to throw in with us.  We
could probably pull some strings."  He too began to stroke his hard pole.
   "Well, I don't know.  I think I'll just let the company decide where
to put me."
   He turned back to the shower, hoping that would be the end of it.
Instead, he felt powerful arms grab him around his neck, and a hard dick
press into his ass as legs wrapped themselves about his own.  The room
spun slowly around him as they drifted toward its center.  He tried to
break free, but the lack of gravity disoriented him.  He had no experience
fighting in zero-g.  There was nothing to push against, and he was in
the formidable grip of an experienced spacer.
   "Look, Babycakes," Bob began, "I'm offering you a good deal.  Otherwise
the bad boys will be getting hold of that young ass of yours, and you'll
end up working the night shift - if you know what I mean."
   Jim really didn't know, but he could guess.  And if these weren't
the "bad boys," then who were?  And just how bad were they?
   ""Gag him," Bob said.  Dan forced the edge of a towel into Jim's mouth
and then knotted it behind his head.  "Okay Dan, slick my dick up so I
can get some this virgin ass."
   Dan reached into one of the toilet kits and pulled out a tube of
petroleum jelly.  He squeezed a worm of it into his hand, and then
reached between Jim's ass and Bob's abdomen, which were pressed tightly
together.  He found his buddy's stiff cock and began to apply the grease,
sliding his hand up and down the man-meat.  On impulse, he pressed
a greased finger against the young man's hole and jabbed brutally.
   Jim responded to the assault by trying to break free again.  The
grip around his neck tightened and threatened to block the remaining
blood from going to his brain.  Dan pulled his finger from the tunnel and
moved around to the front of the struggling boy.  He grabbed Jim's long,
limp cock in one hand, and holding it tightly he balled his other into a
fist, which he drove into the kid's stomach.  The rebound pushed him
away, but his hold on Jim's dick prevented him from flying off.
   Jim let out a grunt, never really feeling the pain in his cock as it
was almost pulled off.  Bob released his hold, and Jim doubled over, his
breath coming in shallow heavings as he tried to breathe past gut-fire.
   Dan grabbed the sides of the boy's head to steady himself and said,
"I think he's ready for you now, Bob."
   Dan drifted back a bit, and then Bob started pressing the bloated knob
of his cock into Jim's flesh.  He felt contact, and in the new position
his randy, stiff pole began a relentless slide inward.  A muffled wail
escaped Jim's nostrils.
   Dan, who had been watching close by, decided to join in the action.
Pushing himself gently off a wall, he drifted toward the boy's head.  He
braked with his hands, twisted himself around, and straddled Jim's face.
The mouth was open, still trying to pull in air.  For Dan, that open mouth
was an open invitation.  With one had behind Jim's head, he used his other
to feed cock to the pup's throat.
  With his meat now wholly in the kid's mouth, he used both hands against
his neck to position himself for a cruel assault.  Floating as they were,
he was able to bend the boy's neck back until his cock was in a straight
line with the virgin throat.  He pushed hard, and forced the length of
himself into the small tunnel.  Instantly, Jim tried to twist free as he
began to choke.
   Bob pounded a fist into Jim's kidney.  The twisting stopped, and Bob
watched as his buddy fucked the spacepup in the mouth, never pulling it
free, but instead keeping it almost buried to the hilt as he pumped short,
brutal stabs.  Dan looked across to his partner and just smiled.
   "That looks good," Bob said.  "Want to trade off?"
   Dan stopped fucking face and said, "Sure."  He pulled the wet monster
from Jim's mouth, allowing him to heave-in lungfulls of air.  They
switched places slowly in the micro-gravity, so that now Bob had his cock
pointed at Jim's mouth, and Dan was directing his rod at the ass Bob had
just left.
   Dan wasted now time in entering the already stretched and lubricated
tunnel, and immediately began full-length, once-a-second thrusts, grunting
as he did so.  Bob watched his friend pound ass for several minutes as he
stroked the skin up and down his own shaft.  He could feel the hot breath
from the kid's mouth on his balls.
   "Lick my balls, Kid.  Lick my fucking balls."
   With bent knees, Bob locked his legs about Jim's head and pressed his
tight ball-sac to the kid's lips.  With a grinding motion he rubbed his
balls against the mouth.  "Open up, Kid, and lick those nuts clean."
   Jim did as instructed.  His tongue began licking and wetting the dark
mat of hair that covered the large, tight ball-sac that pressed against
his mouth.  "Good job, spacepup.  Lap them balls up."
   Dan just smiled.  "I'm getting ready to drop my load."
   "You ought to shoot it down his mouth.  Make him eat sperm."
   Dan grinned, "Yeah," and pulled his randy-hard dick free.  In one
smooth motion, he spun the kid around so his mouth was now in line with
the raunchy rod.  He pressed it against the mouth.  "Open up.  It's chow
time!"
   Jim reluctantly opened his mouth and the throbbing, stiff meat was
pushed inside.  As he began to ride the shaft, he felt Bob move behind
him and press his cock against his ass.  The stiffer once again began
its relentless thrusting.
   "Hey, Bob.  I'm sperming."
   Jim tensed as squirt after squirt coated his mouth.  He tried to
swallow the viscous, white fluid, but the ropey strands stuck like glue.
Finally the jets stopped.  Dan held his dripping cock in Jim's mouth as
he asked, "You drop yours yet, Bob?"
   Bob just smiled, "Doing it now."
   All Jim could feel was the pain as Bob slammed his nuts tight against
his ass, and held his jetting cock in to the hilt.
   They hung there in the center of the shower room; two cocks still
inside Jim's body.  After a few minutes of catching their breaths, Bob
began, "Damn good fuck, huh, Dan?"
   "Yeah, damn good,"  He grinned slyly.
   "I'm still hard as a rock," Bob said, pulling his stiffer free, and
pushing it down to let it slap up against his belly.
   "Starting a come-back?" Dan asked, letting Bob see his own half-hard
before stuffing it back into the kid's mouth.  "Me, too."
   Without further conversation Bob began a slow thrusting and Dan
commanded, "Start sucking, kid.  You ain't through yet."

   Friday morning finally arrived, and Brad was anxious to get back to
Grissom Station.  He cursed at his ability to sleep through just about
anything, and especially at not waking up when they had ferried Jim past
in the stretcher.  He had been unable to get any real information from the
sickbay.  He had no pull there.  But he was able to piece together what
had happened from the stories circulating the lounge.  He still didn't
have a clue as to who had done it yet.  But he would.  He would.  Brad
hastily crammed the remainder of his belongings into the jump bag, grabbed
his helmet off the latch, and headed for check-out.  With a scowl that
seemed chiseled on his face, he dared anyone to speak as he thumbed his ID
to the departure manifest.
   He turned silently and used both belt jets to head for the debarkation
lounge, lawlessly ignoring the guide ropes and restrictions for untethered
jetting.  Security wisely ignored him.
   He boarded the first available skimmer, which would take him to the
shuttle, and then to Grissom Station.  He spoke to no one the whole trip,
and wondered as he stared at seat-backs, what he was going to say to Jim.
   The nurse behind the control desk looked at him as if he were some kind
of bio-engineered disease run amok.  But it was only dark asteroid dust
that covered his space suit.  Normally he would have changed, but he been
in a hurry.  He had to ask twice for Jim's room number.
   The pup was lying in the nearer bed, stomach side down; clutching a
pillow to his chest.  He glanced at Brad as he entered, and then returned
his gaze to the walls.  His grip on the pillow tightened.
   Brad approached tentatively, walking around to the far side of the bed
so Jim wouldn't have to look at him if he didn't want to.  He cleared his
throat and began, "I heard what happened, Jim.  Well, actually I had to
piece most of it together..."  He stopped, realizing it wasn't the right
thing to say.  "I probably shouldn't be here like this, but I came in
anyway - had to see how you were doing."
   Brad felt like he was talking to the wall, and Jim never moved.
   "I just wanted you to know they picked me for your partner.  Well,
actually, that's not quite true.  I got a buddy in personnel to match us up.
I wouldn't want him to think I picked a wimp for a partner, so you hurry up
and get better."
   He looked down at the kid, and on impulse put his had on his shoulder.
He could feel Jim's muscles tense violently.  Brad removed his hand and
cursed under his breath.  He would kill the bastards who did this.
   "Oh, I almost forgot."  Brad reached into his jump bag and pulled out
the digger manual and placed it on the bed beside Jim.  "I want you to start
reading up on diggers.  And be ready for some serious training on Monday.
In fact, I'll come pick you up about five-thirty, so be ready,"  He moved
toward the door just as an obviously well-informed nurse came in.
   "You can't come in here looking like that!"  She pushed him out the of
the room and closed the door behind him.  "Spacers," the nurse swore as she
approached the bed, reaching for the book to remove it.  A hand lashed out
and caught her by the wrist, and she heard Jim's voice for the first time.
   "I've got studying to do."
   True to his word, Brad arrived at Jim's hospital room the next Monday
morning.  This time his spacesuit was clean, and the nurse was only too
happy to let in the man who had broken the boy's catalepsy.
   "You know, it's really a fucked-up universe," Jim said as he slowly
and somewhat painfully, pushed himself up, avoiding eye contact with Brad.
   It was going to be a long recovery, Brad thought.  "You do any reading
over the weekend?" he asked.
   "I read the whole damn book."
   "Understand any of it?"
   "Some."
   "You'll understand more once you get hands-on experience.  The work's
hard - it'll bust your balls but you seem like a tough kid."
   Brad smiled at him, but only serious eyes gazed back.  He decided
they'd talk more when they were alone.  He wouldn't push it, but the kid
would have to open up soon or his guilt and anger would make working
with him dangerous.  You couldn't have any distractions working in an
environment with little gravity and even less air.
   The boarding alert sounded.  "Let's go," Brad said.
   
   Jim was soon caught up in the power and sweat of the work.  Eight hours
of each of the four days were spent on the small asteroid working with the
digger crew who called themselves the Rock Fuckers.  It was an appropriate
name - even the digger bits looked like giant, erect cocks, formidably
spurting plasma flame from the hole in their tips.  Working in the all but
weightless environment was harder than Jim had ever thought such work would
be - or should be for that matter.
   After a few weeks of the frustrating labor, during which Jim healed
physically from the assault, Brad and the other men found it increasingly
easy to talk to the young man.  He was beginning to put the incident behind
him.  Occasionally, they would even catch him smiling behind the clear visor.
Still, a friendly hand on the shoulder or a pat on the back would cause him
to tense or pull quickly away.  Brad felt almost as sorry for himself as he
did for Jim.
   Jim looked at the holoclock in his faceplate.  Thirty minutes until
knockoff, and the second shift could be seen on the horizon, approaching
from the base.  Underbelly jets blasted a cloud of dust that grew in size
at its approach.  The landing pad lights winked on with automatic
understanding - just as the radio babble from the men in that open
transport began filtering into the headsets of the Rock Fuckers.  The
reliefs called themselves the Devil's Diggers - a team that had been on
some other asteroid for the last few months.
   "Hey, Kid."  It was Brad overriding the radio bullshit.
   "Yeah?"
   "Put it in stand-by and clean up.  I'll be 'round to get you in a few."
   "Okay, Boss," Jim answered.  He enjoyed calling Brad boss.  It gave him
a "special" feeling he still did not understand.
   Brad's carrier signal disappeared, and the rantings of the approaching
team came back even more clearly than before.  Jim began to put the digger
in standby, in preparation for the shift change, as he listened to the
radiated ramblings.  Certain words keyed his attention, and his hands froze
on the controls.  He listened.
   "...must have been at least three months ago.  Tight?  Oh, shit, man -
that spacepup was virgin!"
   "Well, he wasn't tight when our dicks got through with that hole.
A horse's cock would have flopped around in it!"
   There was a chorus of laughter at this remark.  Blood rushed to Jim's
face, and the muscles in his neck tensed like piano wire under his suit.
He easily recognized the two voices.  Jim started to scream into the
microphone, and then caught himself, as thoughts of revenge flooded his
brain.
   Slowly he gained control, of his breathing, and the tremble in his
hands subsided, as he tried to remember the names of the men who had raped
him.  Dan.  Dan and Bob.  He hoped there was only one of each on that team.
   He inhaled, and said, "Hey, Devil's Diggers."  The radio became silent.
"This is the Rock Fucker's foreman.  I've got bonus chips from the base here
 for two guys named Dan and Bob."
   "That's us," came the simultaneous reply.
   His prayer had been answered.  "Come pick them up at digger number five."
   The skimmer began a slow curve toward Jim's station.  His heart began to
pound, and sweat dampened the palms of the suit gloves.  At its final
approach, forward jets slowed it and topside jets brought it to the ground.
Two men jumped out and the skimmer lifted up and pulled away, leaving them
behind.
   As Dan and Bob jetted toward him, Jim began manipulating the controls of
the digger.  With experience born of many hours of practice, he pulled two
of the six anchor claws from the rocky soil.  The men slowed, but continued
their approach.  the claws waited, motionless from the side of the great
machine.
   "Hey fucker foreman," one of them called out.  "You got our chips?"
   They were almost to the machine when Jim replied, "Yeah, I got all the
chips!"
   Jim watched them wiggle helplessly in the claws of his beast.  Then he
spoke, "I heard you talking about our little 'party' on your way over here.
I just want you to know you really made my first day here something I'll
never forget."
   They stopped struggling.  There were several moments of nervous silence.
   "Hey listen, Kid," Dan began.  "We didn't mean anything personal by it.
It happens to all the pups."
   "Yeah.  It was all in fun.  We didn't mean to hurt ya."
   A new voice on the radio said, "Put them down, Jim."  It was Brad.  Jim
looked over his shoulder at the skimmer that was rapidly approaching.
   "After what they did to me!  No!  Fuck them.  Fuck them to hell and back!"
   The claws holding Bob raised higher above the machine, and then lowered
slightly on the other side.  Jim jerked one control and then another.  The
arm quickly straightened and at its apex the claw opened.  bob screamed as
he went sailing, tumbling up and out over the surface of the asteroid.  The
small jets of his jump-pak could be seen spraying wildly against the starry,
black sky.  But their micro-thrust had no effect.  The claw's powerful
motors had easily hurled him at escape velocity from the asteroid.  Jim
prepared to do the same to the other man.
   "Jim, no!  The code.  You broke the Spacer's Code," Brad cried over the
suit phone.
   The metal arm continued to pull back.
   "Jim, I'll help.  I promise they'll be punished.  Jim, I promise."
   White knuckled hands froze on the controls.  Bard had never lied to him.
Never.  He watched through the bubble as Dan struggled in the grip of the
machine.  In the distance, he could barely make out Bob, rapidly shrinking
into the void.  Over his shoulder, Brad's skimmer suddenly pivoted on
pinpoint jets, and then accelerated toward the man-projectile.  It would
be a near-impossible rescue.  Jim could toss Dan now, and there would be
no hope in retrieving both.
   "Jim.  The Code, Jim."
   He listened to the truth in Brad's voice.  He listened, and obeyed.
   
   Brad brought the skimmer down next to Digger 5.  The claw slowly
lowered Dan into one of the seats, where he was secured with rope next
to Bob, who had been bound in like manner after his rescue.  Both looked
pale, serious through their helmets.  Jim climbed out of the digger and
got into the skimmer next to Brad.
   "We'll take them to the gym," said the older man.  "They will be
punished."
   The small, zero-g gymnasium was cleared of people quickly by Brad and
his men, and then locked.  Shiny, tubular-chrome machines lined the "walls"
of that cylindrical, padded room.  At one was the entrance, at the other,
a plastic dome that framed a black, star-studded sky.  The eight members
of the Rock Fuckers wrestled the two bound men to the machines - their
waist jets making multiple hisses in the too-quiet compartment.
   Brad and Jim watched from close by while their teammates stripped the
men of their suits and the long skivies they wore underneath.  Naked, Bob
and Dan's cocks and balls flopped wildly - both dicks soft.  Sweat puddled
under their arms as the two men were tied across exercise machines.  Bob,
the mouthy one, started to speak, which only got him a fist in the stomach.
Dan wisely remained silent.
   Wordlessly, the other eight men also began to strip their suits off,
and soon eight "swinging-dicks" floated around the two that were tied.
Each of them had replaced his small jet pack about his waist.  They were
in absolute control.
   David, a stocky spacer whose body was covered in a thick carpet of dark
hair, was the first to approach.  Choosing Bob because he had caused the
most commotion, David jetted up to the man's face and pressed his fuzzy
crotch against it.  His big-knobbed, circumcised meat began to expand
immediately, and soon was pressing against the back of Bob's throat.
   David wrapped his knees about Bob's head and pulled himself tight
against the face, and then hung there.  Without thrusting or pumping, he
let his cock grow slowly into the throat, filling it and blocking the
passage of air.  To David, it felt great as the shaft slowly expanded and
tried to crawl of its own accord down that small tunnel.  To Bob, it felt
like someone was trying to shove a fist down his throat.
   David tensed his leg muscles more as the feel of the attack excited him
and made his cock even larger.  Bob began to twist violently in an attempt
to free himself of the flesh and find air, but this only served to permit
the lance final entrance.  Bob gaggged and then swallowed as the pole
crawled the last few inches into his throat.  David let out a moan and
pressed his nuts hard up against the man's face - forcing the length of his
bone into him.  Then he began to pull slowly out, feeling the wet tunnel
tug at the hard shaft.  He pulled free, displaying a full hard.
   As if this were a signal to begin a full assault, the other men moved in -
cocks already hard or getting there.  David pushed his big-headed stiffer
back into the gasping man's mouth as another digger buddy glided up to the
hairy ass, pulled Bob's ass cheeks apart and pushed the knob against the
hole.  It entered suddenly, and Bob would have let out a gasp if it weren't
for David still fucking his throat.
   Dan watched intently as his partner was double-fucked by the two
spacer-cocks.  He could read the pain in Bob's sweat-drenched body and
grimaced face.  Despite his own fear, the fact that it was his buddy getting
the reaming, his cock had become hard - the foreskin strained to pull back
off the big head, pre-cum pooled in a large drop at the slit, and his balls
pulled up tight against the base.  Rape had always got him randy - as long
as it wasn't his own.
   The other men were just as involved in the exhibition - their hands
pumping skin and shaft in anticipation.  Eventually, however, Dan was
remembered.  He watched as another big-dicked Rock Fucker approached him,
a thin-bladed knife in hand.
   "You do just what I tell you, or you'll loose that pretty foreskin of
yours."
   Dan nodded fearful acquiescence.
   The tip of the bare-knobbed pole pressed against his lips.  Dan opened
his mouth and sucked the length of it down.  He started giving the man a
sincere blowjob, hoping to avoid further punishment.
   When the first Rock Fucker had finally finished, the knob pulled free
of Dan's lips and disappeared with its owner.  It "reappeared" at the crack
of his ass, just as another cock took its place at his mouth.  Dan looked
across to what amounted to a line of men waiting their turn...
   Jim had been watching the action with Brad, and his own meat was
responding, crowding itself within the confines of his spacesuit.  Brad
had long since stripped, his stiffer jutting its throbbing hardness like
forges steel.  Seeing he was the only one with clothes on, Jim also
stripped down, and started toward Bob and Dan.
   "Let the guys do the dirty work, Jim," Brad said.  "Save whatever you
got for me."
   Confused and torn, Jim nodded, looked over at the next man in line and
said, "You go ahead.  Have a ball."
   The man grinned.  Blond and tall, with a smooth, hairless body and
nearly hairless balls, he pushed his slick, white tube into Dan's waiting
mouth.
   Jim watch in fascination at the shrinking line of men.  for some reason,
the action seemed to be getting further away.  And then he noticed the two
powerful hands under his arms, and heard the hiss of Brad's jet as he was
pulled to the other side of the room.
   They bounced lightly against the padded wall, and grasped the loops to
keep them there.  Now a powerful, hairy arm wrapped about Jim's waist and
pulled him against naked, male flesh.  He felt strange delight at the feel
of the spacer's cock against his stomach as it wedged between them.  He
looked into that spacer's eyes, and saw want, power, and tenderness.  He
tried to return it, but could only give the look of young, questioning
trust.  It was enough.  It was perfect.
   Brad presented the kid a powerful, manly kiss, which was returned just
as potently.  Their hands explored each other's body, and Brad, being the
more experienced, teased his way across the tight, muscled flesh of the
young spacer, working his way down to the pulsing bone that pleaded so for
attention.  Brad licked at the underside of it once, and then slid his wet
mouth down the straining pole.  Amazed that the kid was already about to
come, Brad backed off and positioned himself until his own, larger-knobbed
stiffer was in line with Jim's mouth.
   The pup licked and sucked at it eagerly, wetting and length of that
hardened flesh, and savoring the maleness which hid under the foreskin.
The taste of it made his cock tense in pleasure, purpling the head and
pulling his balls up tight.
   Brad let the pup suck on his thick, veined shaft, and when he felt it
was wet enough, he pulled it free and floated back to eye level.  He
looked lovingly into the young man's eyes and then slowly turned him
around so his ass was now backed up against the older spacer's cock.  In
his left ear Brad whispered, "Don't be afraid.  This time will be
different.  This time, it won't hurt."
   Jim nodded, his eyes wide with the beginnings of trust.
   Brad spit in his hand several times; applying the wetness to the head
and shaft of his cock.  With a firm hand, he pushed at the kid's back, so
he bent over at the waist.
   With short, careful thrusts, Brad advanced his desire until the length
of it was buried.  And just as slowly, he withdrew it.  With an animal
lust tempered by love, he began to pump his stiff pole in and out of the
young spacer's ass.  Jim reached between his own legs and began stroking
the skin of his meat, but Brad slapped his hand away and deftly replaced
it with his own.  He fucked and jacked the lad off in easy, steady strokes.
   In minutes he felt the young spacer begin to jerk under him, as his
sperm shot against the bulkhead and wet the older spacer's hand as he
stroked the jetting cock over the head.  The climax squeezed his cock as
the boy shot off, and soon Brad was pumping the load he had been saving
for so long.  Low grunts signaled each jet of sperm as it filled that
tunnel.  Brad pulled his partner close to him, gripping the coated shaft
of his cock and slowly pistoning his hips as his climax came to a halt.
He alternately kissed and bit the back of Jim's neck.
   On the other side of the room, one big-dicked man whose fat prick was
still sawing into Bob's raw ass, called out, "Hey, Brad.  You want
any...?" His pistoning hips stopped in mid-thrust, as he looked up and
saw his friend's pole sliding slowly in and out of the spacepup's ass.
He smiled and announced quietly, "Looks like the boss is in love."  Then
he began to pound ass once more.
   The others looked around, and voiced their general agreement, as they
waited in line for seconds and thirds.

The End