Date: Tue, 13 Jun 2017 18:23:21 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Raven's Claw 2

See original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/authoritaria/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.

*****

Everyone in the room, even over the thrum of the showers, hear Vinny's
shuddering gasp. His dick leapt to incredible hardness in an instant and
began to leak precum even as Vinny watched in mounting horror. It took
perhaps a third of the time and nowhere near the action it had with Junior
before Vinny's orgasm hit and he began to bubble cum down Howie's arm.

"Now," the giant smirked at the mortified and utterly undone Vinny, "that
didn't seem so bad for a... straight boy now did it?"

*****

Raven's Claw 2: Work & Homework

By Bear Pup

*****

Vinny was still ashen as they trooped out of the shower. The guys were a
bit surprised that they weren't told what to wear, but it was made clear
that it was because they were already dressed for the day. Naked.

This news had odd effects across the team. Vinny was simply panicked and no
mistake. Junior was his polar opposite. He tried to hide it but Rob smiled
and made a note since his instruments didn't lie; the kid's pulse spiked
and his eyes dilated in anticipation. Paul didn't like it but didn't react
much. Jackson just smiled, not at all upset that his prodigious manhood
would be on display. It was clear that Ned, surprisingly, just couldn't
care less either way. Something to look into for later as casual nudity was
certainly not the norm for guys his age. The Wagners, Aaron and Bobby, only
seemed worried about what each other would see, showing no drastic concern
about that rest. Curiouser and curiouser.

Howie led them to a room filled with ten large table-like desks. Carter
French and a new face, introduced as his assistant named Sean Selman,
waited there, sitting quietly as Howie waited for them all to
assemble. They were, like Howie, completely nude and utterly comfortable
with the fact. "Okay, guys, as mentioned I am in charge of your entire
physical fitness. A big part of that is what, when and how you eat. One of
the big differences between then and now is the understanding of diet.

"Protectorate protocols make this simple but critically-important. You will
eat only what you are given and you will eat everything you are given. If
something is not to your taste, let one of us know and your diet will be
adjusted to avoid that food or flavor. HOWEVER, you will never, ever skip a
meal or fail to eat it. You will not all eat at the same time. Some of you
may have up to eight meals a day and others as few as two plus a
snack. Protectorate guidance is really that specific, and don't even think
about cheating.  You understand?"

Nodding and muttering. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" Everyone jumped and
instinctively replied with a chorus in the key of 'yes,
coach'. "Excellent. Each of you are about to get a band that looks like a
really thin Fitbit. It isn't, as all those kinds of measurements are
handled by far more advanced technologies. It is, however, a way for
systems to interact with you.

"You will hear this tone," a simple 'you've got mail' kind of ding sounded,
"when you need to collect and eat a meal or snack. You will go back to this
unit and hold your band anywhere near the face. You don't have to touch
it." The big silver machine made a whirring noise and then clicked, the
face opening like a coffee vending machine does. "Aaron, this one is
yours."

Aaron nervously moved forward and Howie buckled the band lightly to his arm
and instructed him to take the tray to any of the glass-topped desks. Aaron
went to the nearest and started at the tray. It held a drink like a
smoothie, a salad and what looked for all the world like a supreme
pizza. He took a tentative bite; that's exactly what it was. He dug in with
gusto and saved the salad for last. The smoothie was... odd, with flavors
he couldn't place.

Daniel, watching from the control monitors, smiled. The kitchen really was
good at this. Everything met the individual profile the team had collected
over the last eight weeks on each of the boys, but was *just* exotic enough
to maintain the Raven's Claw fiction. The exception was Junior. He had
never been expected to join the team for the Auburndale meet so they hadn't
profiled him. Predictably, his was the only miss.

Junior stared glumly at the grilled fish. It was obvious he was torn,
terrified of making waves. He finally tentatively raised his hand,
half-hoping no one would notice. Mr French was there in moment. Junior
whispered, "I'm really sorry. I mean, I'll eat it, but fish always makes my
stomach real upset. I, I'm sorry, really."

"Hmm. That didn't show in your testing. I'll check with medical. And don't
be sorry, Junior, not at all. Since you said something quickly -- good job,
by the way, points to you for that -- we can get it subbed out." In mere
seconds, Junior jumped as his band dinged. Carter smiled at him and nodded
to the back. "Take the whole tray and swap it out, son." What he came back
with was completely different. Instead of fish, rice and a sort of slaw, he
had something that was halfway between a wrap and burrito, stuffed with hot
chicken, veggies and a cheesy sauce. It was delicious and he smiled. In the
monitoring room, so did Daniel.

"Rob, make a note that Miss Wills gets a special surprise in her
paycheck. That was damned fine work, and fast to boot."

"Okay, guys," said Howie, "those are your eating orders. I'm turning you
over to Misters French and Selman. We'll talk again later in the day."

"We met earlier. You can call me Mr French, Carter or sir. This is my
assistant, Sean Selman and everyone calls him Sean. We'll be teaching you
all the stuff that Howie won't. Please keep eating, as you'll often have
meals of snacks during class whenever your band dings.

"For starters, everyone look down at your desk. There is a stylus in the
groove at the top. Please pick it up. You'll now see that a section of the
desk is glowing; that is called the digidesk. There is no sign-in; it knows
who you are and all other digidesks will as well, so there is no need to
save stuff. Everything will be as you left it when you next touch a
digidesk. Please raise your hand if the glowing area is NOT under the hand
with which you write."

There were ten desks in the room, all of smoky glass. A simple Android
tablet was inset in each, using an OS skin that was unique enough for the
Raven's Claw myth. Three were set to the left and five to the right, but
they could also simply be turned around to switch handedness.

Two hands went up. Paul had sat at a left-handed one so Carter told him to
swap places with Ned. Sean's keen eyes noted Junior's hesitation. He picked
up the stylus with his left hand, then transferred it to his right. Sean
knelt next to the desk. "Junior, can I ask a question?" The shy boy jumped,
then blushed and nodded. "You're left-handed, aren't you?"

His quiet, sad voice responded just above a whisper, "Yeah, but I'm not
allowed to write that way. Dad doesn't like it. It's not natural. It's a
sign of weakness."

"No, son, it's a sign of an ignorant, superstitious and frankly mean
parent. That isn't even allowed now, much less encouraged under the
Protectorate. Starting now, try writing with your left hand. It will take
time to adjust, but that's fine. If you find you prefer writing the way
your dad said, that's fine, too. But for today," Sean picked up Junior's
tray, "Sit over here and try it leftie-style, okay?"

Carter had continued. "A lot of what you'll learn contradicts things you've
been taught all your lives. I've been working with stasis kids for nearly
three years. You're going to be shocked, offended and probably upset. Don't
hide it. It's natural. But what you'll learn here is *provably* true,
unlike a lot of what people my age grew up learning.

"For instance, we won't spend hardly any time on history or
government. Most Earthly history was wrong, written decades or lifetimes
after events more as a fantasy of the winners to justify their
crimes. Earthly theories of government were equally insane, and the myth of
Democracy as a panacea, or even a viable form of governance, is proven to
be delusional no matter how cherished that notion was for those of us who
grew up in the US. So, get the outrage out early, but also don't let it
derail your studies."

"You mean we don't have any say AT ALL in government?" The incredulity in
Ned's voice was echoed through the room.

"Nope. Not one bit. You're not qualified to have an opinion and neither am
I. People train for a lifetime to understand such things, and letting just
anyone make decisions based on personal gain, prejudice or malice is,
simply, insane. More to the point, why would you *want* to, knowing that
you don't have the skills or the knowledge? Knowing that your decision
could plunge over thirty worlds and all of known space into catastrophe if
you pick wrong? Egomaniacs, demagogues, tyrants and sociopaths are not
tolerated in the Protectorate and certainly not allowed anywhere near
governance!"

"But? But... what? How can it be fair?"

"I am glad you asked and asked early. I'll use some of the history that we
learned as kids to explain. The Amerinds tribes and ways of life were
nearly destroyed. Eight million died in concentration camps in Nazi
Germany. The US built enough nuclear weapons to destroy all life on this
planet and actually were fully ready to use them. People were worked to
death as slaves for hundreds of years because of religion or skin color. In
the richest countries on Earth, people died of starvation or lack of access
to medicine every day. In every single case, the 'majority' agreed *it was
a good idea*. Every single one of those examples was 'the will of a
democracy or a democratic republic'."

"But those were just a few mistakes!"

"Yes, and there were damned few successes to show for the millions,
probably billions, who were oppressed and died under thousands of years of
misrule, often by a self-appointed mob calling itself a democracy. Sorry,
guys, but the greatest feats of 'democracy' were fixing a small handful of
the problem they'd actually created themselves!"

*****

While the lesson progressed, Daniel was meeting with a subset of his team
over the other problem they needed to deal with. Doctors Wilkin and
Redmond, along with Howie and the two "Protectorate sponsors", Jo-Pol and
Tze-Xun (Devon White and John Weatherman, respectively) were gathered
around a table watching two monitors, one showing Coach Darrel Davis and
the other Assistant Coach Matt Sparks, Senior. Davis was sitting, reading a
book on a tablet Raven's Claw provided while Sparks was pacing and ranting
toward what he thought were the cameras.

"So, I have news from Corporate. They've decided that our protocols are
advanced enough to use on skeptical adults, so we won't be able to offload
that fucking bastard on Metabol or SensAug. We have to keep them
both... and move them into a marketable state."

Howie sighed deeply. "Yeah, we can really work with Davis, but the AC is a
prick and a sociopath of the first order." The Howitzer was, indeed, an
expert on physical conditioning, but he'd started with a Doctorate in
Psychology. He'd trained much of the Monitoring & Psych staff
himself. "We're going to have to go old school on him. Back like the Jerold
mess, just with new tools."

There was grumbling around the table at that. Jack Jerold was an early
subject, one of the earliest, actually. He had completely fought every
shred of the Raven's Claw myth and was steadfastly uncooperative and
violent. Using drugs and techniques brought to Ravensclaw, Inc., from
Homeland Security by Dr Redmond and technologies brought from the computer
gaming industry by Dr Wilkin, they'd had good, early success. Jerold,
though, took them to almost medieval depths that none wanted to every
experience again before they could build him into a marketable slave.

"Sadly, Corporate considers him, and I quote, an ideal subject to test the
effectiveness of 'YOUR' program on less-ideal candidates, unquote. They
seemed to emphasize that, if all we could accomplish was to accelerate
already-malleable subjects, then the long-term profitability might be in
jeopardy." He let the murmur subside at that news. "Which also means,
Howie, that we can't go too far down the Jerold path anyway. We have to
prove that our protocols and tools work on the worst type of subject as
well as all the rest."

A hiss of escaping breath made it clear that the point was taken, and
unwelcome.

"Then let's start, at least, with things that we know work." John
Weatherman, their original 'Protectorate' guy was tentative but
clear. "While Howie and the Doctors come up with a tailored plan, feed him
porn and suppress his orgasmic response."

Howie spoke up. "More. He has seriously-impressive control mechanisms, both
as part of the sociopathic cocoon and his military and sports training. We
need to stimulate him as well. Probably with the subprostate implant and
some of your AV wizardry, Wilkin, as well as your drugs, Miles." He turned
to Dr Redmond for the last part.

Miles Redmond nodded slowly. "I'll have the kitchen start adding IC-6.2 to
his smoothies as well as, hmm, yeah, the new sildenafil stereoisomer we
isolated. Between the relaxation of impulse-control and the libidinal
effects, he'll be *extremely* interested in the porn, and in doing
something about it. I'll note, though, that he's already a mass of
sociopathic neuroses. Push this too far, and..."

"Warning taken and understood, Dr Redmond. Howie and Wilkins, pull porn you
think will work and we'll refine it based n Monitor & Psych
observations. I'm guessing seriously nasty shit will be required to turn
his crank."

Howie chuckled. "Unless I miss my guess, he's damned close to a Criminal
Minds stereotype. We are going to have to be careful with this lest we
create something that we can't market come hell or high water."

Devon, the second Protectorate guy and an astute character judge spoke up,
"And I don't think you can 'feed' this guy porn -- or anything else. If you
make it easy to find or obvious, he'll reject it instantly. He will need to
think he outsmarted us to get to it; that's when the drugs will pay off."

Weatherman was nodding slowly, "Actually, I have just the thing. It's a
setup we were experimenting with, positing a resistance to the Protectorate
and a return to 'natural rights'. I'll get Carol and the team to polish it
up and we can put some hints as graffiti in the margins of a slick." He was
the liaison with the overall Raven's Claw Media department.

"Gentlemen, we have a plan. Get your departments on board. Howie, Wilkins
and Miles, please work with Devon on ideas of what might work. Don't pull
anything off the table until you're confident you have a good
approach. Let's make this happen"

*****

Sean tried desperately not to burst out laughing at the seven gaping mouths
of the students. All of them were staring between Carter and the screen,
absolutely aghast. Even Junior and Ned, both of whom were likely
gay=leaning anyway, were appalled.

The visual was a set of diagrams of a man's body showing front, back and
side, first clothed and then nude and in... lusciously-correct detail. The
generic 'that blob is supposed to be a penis' they knew from textbooks was
completely absent. Every fold and shape was lovingly rendered in black and
white lines, including the perky nipples under the polo and crotch-bulge in
the jeans; the asymmetrical hang of the balls and the beautiful crease of
the ass crack. There was also an extra in the nude section. A detailed
close-up of a man's crotch with the legs up and spread, highlighting the
ass, taint and various areas around the rest of the groin, especially the
rampant and leaking erection.

Overlays in three colors were shown with various intensities: red, blue and
purple. Red tinted the sexually-charged zones (SCZs) common to most
men. The deeper the red, the more-reliable the spot. The myths of g-spots
and erogenous zones had been explained away, replaced with Protectorate
research (the same old wine in a brand new bottle). The other colors,
though, were actually Ravensclaw, Inc., proprietary info. Blue showed the
areas that men looked when considering how 'sexy' another man was, and the
rare purple were places the two overlapped.

"So, gentlemen, you can see how differently your husbands will look at you
clothed and naked. I'll tell you, this came as an incredible shock to most
Earthlies. Some seemed so utterly counter-intuitive. You'd think, for
instance, that a naked man's cock and balls would get dramatically more
attention that a clothed crotch, but the opposite is true. Even if you're
railed and leaking, a huge throbber won't get near the attention from your
husbands as a well-fitting pair of jeans that show your package to best
effect."

Sean again bit the inside of his cheek to avoid a laugh. Several of the
guys still shuddered at certain terms. Years of penis, testes and erection
from teachers and textbooks thrown out in favor of cocks and dickhead,
balls and low-hangers, throbbing hard-ons and chubbies. In some strange
way, locker-room whispers coming full-voice from an adult in a serious
lecture made terms like 'your husbands' so very, very real.

"Seduction, and that's what all of this is about, is an art you will
perfect in this class and in your homework assignments." The confluence of
'homework' and 'seduction' had all of them unsettled and worried. "You
will, of course, be practicing on each other and, to a lesser extent, some
of the staff. You will start simply. Your goal for today is to get noticed,
sexually, by others. Protectorate technology will score how successful you
are and we'll discuss results tomorrow.

"Start with an approach. There are dozens but the two most common are
called Coy and Stud. Those are the ones you'll work on for the rest of
today, including during lessons on other topics and your social downtime
this evening. Bobby, tell me what you think the Stud approach would
entail."

"Uh, um, being, well, hard and aggressive?"

"Good, which parts from the diagrams -- focus on the nude ones since you'll
be nude today --" That news got a stir and a lot of looks in the range of
shared panic. "would you focus on presenting if you were using that
approach?"

"Oh, God. Uh, Cock and balls, you know, pushing that. M-maybe, um, ass?"

Carter made an equivocal motion with his head, "To some extent, yes. All
approaches are as much about attitude than anything. Stud definitely
'pushes' -- good word -- cock and balls; ass as well, since you don't
necessarily know your target's preferences. But also arms and
chest. Muscles flexed. Aggressive was right. Long, intense eye contact,
daring your target to come close, to risk your rejection, to taste what you
have."

Sean was salivating. Virtually all of the guys were railed, and railed
hard. Some, especially the Wagners, were dripping precum at the thought. In
a couple cases, it was clear which role the guy saw himself in, the Stud or
the target. Junior was about to swoon over being looked at like that. Paul
was relishing the chance to use his looks and personal presence to get
others to lust after him. Others, like, Ned, seemed to be consciously
thinking about which end he'd rather be on. Vinny and, oddly, Jackson
seemed disdainful at the very idea of seduction. Carter spotted it too.

"Jackson, tell me what Coy would look like if you were going to try that
approach."

Jackson snorted, "Basically acting like a cheerleader bitch, right?" He
smirked.

"Jackson, that attitude will not be tolerated. You've been warned. And, no,
that would be completely wrong. Acting like a woman will get you
nowhere. Try again. Start with the diagrams."

With obvious distaste, he said, "Ass, obviously, since he wants to get
fuc--"

Carter turned to Vinny. "Since Jackson will be out of the conversation for
a few minutes, why don't you try?" Vinny stared in horror at the helpless
and inert form of the huge black kid, knowing he'd been just as exposed and
vulnerable in the shower. "Vinny? We're waiting?"

Wrenching his eyes to the diagrams, Vinny stuttered to life, "Um, uh, I,
well, I'd think he was part right. Ass would be part of it, wouldn't it?"

"Agreed. Continue."

"Okay, Coy. Um, eyes. Definitely eyes. Flirty? You know? Lips? Smiles and
such? Um, uh...?"

"Actually, that was quite good." Jackson was stirring slightly. "Yes, Coy
is very much about the face, but also posture. Like Stud that is trying to
convince the target of his talents, Coy wants to highlight his willingness
to be 'caught', but only if pursued carefully. Coy needs to master things
like looking away and (if possible) blushing when 'caught' looking. To move
in ways that make it clear he isn't going to be an easy catch, but will be
worth the work. Ned, tell me about how Stud and Coy would walk
differently."

"Oh, okay. Stud would strut, like a 14-year-old trying to prove he's
older. Cocky. Arrogant, maybe? Coy would be, um, I
don't... know. Hmm. Smaller? I mean, not projecting just, sorta, moving
less and... I'm not sure how to say it, sorry."

"Actually, not bad at all. The 14-year-old analogy is ideal. Desperate to
be seen as a man, he exaggerates his walk. Cock forward, chest out, head
back, arrogant. It can be called Roostering. Stud, though, doesn't go that
far. Mr 14 want *to be seen* as a male animal; Stud *knows* he's all that
and more. Cock, chest, shoulders, all similar but effortless. Long strides,
knows where he's going and how he'll get what he wants. He doesn't need to
be arrogant, he's too confident for that to matter. That's Stud.

"And as stumbling as it was, your Coy description wasn't
terrible. Yes. Coy's movements are smaller, more graceful and
rounded. Slower as well. Furtive doesn't really fit Coy, but careful
does. A lot of attention to details. A lot of looks around, to the sides,
to other men, checking to see if he's being noticed or 'targeted' by other,
something he wants, sure, but also doesn't want to be seen wanting.

"So, for the rest of the day until room-lock, you pick which you want to do
and try it. You can, if you want, switch it and try each on different
targets, up to you. But start now. Points are at stake."

"Um, sir?" Junior actually raised his hand, "What are points? Howie
mentioned them earlier?"

Sean smiled and stepped in, letting his soft Irish brogue caress the words,
"Ah, boyo, points are everything. Points are currency. Points let you get
luxuries like games and movies and porn. Points let you bargain for things
you might want from others or even from the staff. Points, me man, points
can buy you out of trouble. Nothing stupid like taking the piss with a
teacher or being rude or nasty to a mate, but when you screw up an
assignment? Forget homework? Get overwhelmed and need a break? Points can
get you out of a jam neat as houses. Points are the real deal."

Carter was smiling, "I could not have said it better. I hear, Junior, that
you already have some points from the way you handled this morning. Very
impressive. Not many get awarded that early on the first day, and Howie is
as stingy with points as he is with praise. Well done.

"Now, if you haven't begun using either Stud or Coy to seduce one or more
of the men in the room, I'd suggest you start. We'll--" DING! "I think that
was you, Ned, you know the routine -- we'll start in the basis of
homemaking: time management."

Ned got up and went back to the machine that produced a shake and, to his
blushing horror, two bananas. The idea of eating a banana in a room filled
with naked guys talking about sex and an assignment for seduction made him
almost ill. Rob watched this from the booth with great interest. Ned's eyes
flicked back and forth, like he had been caught doing something naughty
when he hadn't even picked up the tray yet. Slowly, though, a sly smile
crept across his face.

Rob watched as the boy returned to his seat, blush still very evident. He
moved cautiously, watching the others, several of whom looked up. He made
sure to sit in a way that highlighted his actually quite-exceptional
ass. He glanced quickly at Bobby and away when he saw Bobby had been
looking, then Paul, who hadn't been -- until then at least.

Still blushing furiously, he made a very quiet, subdued and... Coy show of
eating to two incredibly-phallic fruits. Rob and any other careful observer
(like the transfixed Bobby and the extremely interested Paul and Aaron)
could even see him run his tongue around the bites after he got them in his
mouth. Bobby's breathing got short and Rob watched Paul lick his lips
several times, pupils increasing in dilation steadily, before Ned was done,
complete with timid glances and quick looks away.

Bobby practically shit when Carter called on him for a question. The boy
frantically tried to not look like he was adjusting his dogwater-drenched
crotch as he desperately tried to figure out what the subject had been. Yes
indeed, Rob thought, there would be points accrued for the very quick and
clever Ned.

The boys were getting distinctly fidgety by the time the lecture and quiz
portions were over. They were, after all, teens. Two hours sitting is
tough. Howie came in and stood just inside the door as Sean wrapped up his
own piece on rotation scheduling and finding out the chore preferences of a
group of men, none of whom want to do any chores at all.

"Okay, homework for this segment is simple. Tonight, in social hour, act as
if your group is your family. find out which chore each husband hates most
and hates least in your group. A new icon on your digidesk says
'Chores'. Use the list there to decide how you think your husbands should
divide labor for the coming week.

"Okay, everyone up. We'll have five minutes of stretching, led by Howie,
then we'll accompany him to the next lesson."

Carter made his goodbyes and left. Howie put the group through a quick
stretch-session, more getting the blood flowing than anything. Rob made a
long list of quick observations and sent them to Howie's cloud. Who looked
where. Who was embarrassed, proud or unconcerned about being hard, leaking
or around others who were. Which were worried about where others were
looking and which were worried about getting caught literally sixing up the
competition.

*****

Sean and Howie let the group across to the next room. A shelf held a few of
digidesks, but the room was a series of what an ancient would instantly
recognize as lectuli or Roman Beds, each a long, backless, padded bench
about three feet wide and eight long. There were five, two digidesks on
each. Howie and Sean immediately sat on one each, forcing the guys to pick
whom they would share with; no one could sit alone.

Rob smiled widely as the dynamics played out. Aaron fully expected Bobby by
his side and was poleaxed that Bobby did all but fight his way to a couch
with Ned. Paul claimed one couch and Jackson another. Vinny chose Paul's
which miffed Junior, aka Paul's Puppy.  Junior had chosen Jackson's couch
before Aaron really recovered, leaving him to choose between Sean and the
incredibly-intimidating Howitzer. He picked Sean.

Howie spoke up. "So, welcome to the Playroom. The gym is your classroom for
health and fitness, across the hall is your classroom for Sexuality and
Home Life, this is your classroom for Sex." About half the guys hissed in a
breath and all of them looked with various shades of horror at whomever
they were now sitting next to -- effectively paired with -- for... SEX?!?

"Today we start with the single universal in sexual behavior, touch." A
screen behind his massive shoulder came to life with the earlier diagrams
of the naked male, only showing the red SCZs (Sexually-Charged
Zones). Additional close-ups of a flaccid cock, the face as a whole and the
man's side from the temple to the shoulder.

"Protectorate research shows that a vanishingly-small number of men share
all common SCZs, and nearly all men have at least one that is not shaded in
the diagram shown. My unique ones, for instance, are the base of my neck in
the back and, to a lesser extent, the backs of my knees.

"Go ahead. Pretend to be shocked that I would tell you that if it makes you
feel safer. Little boys need that. Men, however, own their bodies and own
their pleasure. Men know their mates' SCZs as well or better than they know
their own. But the time you are finished and ready to become
husband-candidates, you will know every SCZ of every other student.

"Now, everyone pick up your digidesk. You'll note that diagrams like these
show up. Use your stylus to put a mark on your single, strongest SCZ that
is NOT on or around your nipples, cock, balls and ass. Your digidesk won't
even let you mark there. Yes, Aaron?"

Blushing furiously, Arron asked, "W-What if we, um, don't know?"

"If you are so utterly inexperienced that no one has ever touched anything
but your dick. and you're such a baby that you've never done *anything*
with the other hand when you jack off, please feel free to tell me
that. Anyone? Anyone? No? Then make your marks."

Even Jackson's dark skin showed the blush as these jocks considered
admitting something they never even wanted to acknowledge in their
most-private thoughts.

"Gentlemen, thank you. As for the two itty-bitty widdle boiz in the room
who haven't yet made a mark, I'll give you a ten-count before I have you
stand up here and say it out loud. Ten. Nine. Ah, there we go." The diagram
behind him erupted in marks, eight of them. The seven guys looked around in
confusion. Nine?

"Sorry, I forgot to mention that Sean is both an assistant and a
participant today. Two of those marks are his, one for my demo and one for
his partner in the exercise." Aaron looked like he'd been bitten by
something at that news since he was sitting next to Sean.

"Sean, join me please. In the next few minutes, you are each going to
figure out which mark is that made by your lesson-husband." A
frankly-appalled gasp met this unwelcome news. 'Figure out'? 'Lesson
husband'?? Oh, crap. "How you touch your husband is up to you, I prefer a
more direct approach. Some like soft, tentative exploration thinking it's
sexier and more enticing. Some like to roam, others move methodically. Up
to each of you."

Howie enveloped the smaller man in his embrace, running his hands over the
lithe body while kissing gently along his jaw and ear, then shoulder. He
pulled back. "As mentioned, you were prevented from selecting your ass,
nipples, cock and balls. If you are squeamish and nelly, please feel free
to avoid those areas, but it's not required. Remember, the key thing in sex
if enjoyment, yours and your husband's. And don't be shy about using more
than your hands, gentlemen; there are other ways to touch."

He went back to roving the hands and lips lightly over Sean's body. Several
times, Sean gasped or purred or seemed to melt into the embrace. Howie
pulled back slightly, "Those, gentlemen, are the tells guiding you to help
make your selections. I strongly suggest that you don't hold them back or
try to stifle them when you are the touchee; it will make your partner's
job much harder and still won't get you out of the assignment."

Howie moved behind Sean and pulled him into another embrace. Sean was
clearly aroused in the extreme, squirming at certain touches and allowing
his his cock to throb. He had his hands on Howie's thighs, giving him full
access to his fit and toned if nearly-hairless body. He suddenly erupted in
a deep, shuddering sigh. Howie's hands were petting his lower belly
seductively and Sean's cock gushed a large dollop of pre-cum. Howie
chuckled.

"I think gentlemen, that you have a pretty good idea now where Sean's first
mark is. Sean, would be so kind?"

Sean's exploration of Howie was utterly different. Instead of embracing the
large man, he let his hands lightly rove... everywhere. He certainly did
NOT avoid the man's cock and balls, making Howie -- the guys gasped at the
stunning visual -- actually giggle at a couple of points. Instead of hands,
he used his tongue across the muscle-bear's upper body, getting any number
of appreciative groans. Sean licked his way down the man's back as well,
getting a loud, "Oh, Lord!" at the base of the spine. Sean stood up and
chuckled.

"I'm guessing that Howie didn't mention that one because it could,
arguably, be called his ass. In fact, the Sacral Notch is above the ass
proper and is, thus, fair game."

"You'll notice how completely differently he touched and, um, licked
me. Perfectly valid. I prefer a cuddly approach; Sean's is more
scientific--"

"--and tasty." The two men laughed but only got a couple of shy chuckles
from the guys.

"Before you start, I want to make one thing perfectly clear. You men have
been talking about sexy topics for hours. You are teens. A few of you are
likely to cum all over the place from touch alone. It is normal, healthy
and expected. Don't hold back. Blow all you like. If anyone had a problem
with that, tough. Anyone who makes a nasty comment or gives a rude look
will be the first to find out what the step about a brief nap is like, and
you will NOT enjoy the experience. And I clear? AM I CLEAR?

"Excellent. Also, if you try to stifle or ignore your reactions, you will
be docked points. Anyone your age that does not gasp or moan when certain
things get touched is trying to suppress the very things that we are trying
to teach. Do not try my patience, gentlemen. Okay, those to this side, you
will do the touching first. Take as long as you want until you're pretty
sure you know which dot was made by your temporary husband. Please begin."

*****

Since Ned had kept up the Coy act with Bobby a swell as anyone else who
glanced his way, it was unsurprising that Bobby's hand was shaking like a
leaf as he ran it slowly over his buddy's body. None of the guys had chosen
the Howie bear-hug / cuddle approach. Bobby, though, like Sean, was
definitely NOT going to pass up a chance to run his hands over Ned's
rampant cock and luscious, furry ass. He found four candidates quickly:
below Ned's ear, his armpits, his lower back and, again like Sean, his
belly.

Since Belly was already claimed and no one had put a mark in armpits, Bobby
alternated between caressing Ned's lower back and strumming lightly below
his ear. He finally selected lower back and stepped away, panting heavily
and sweating profusely.

Ned stepped in and moved much closer, not an embrace but only by a measure
of degrees. He would shyly look into Bobby's eyes then blushingly away,
driving Bobby slowing insane. Bobby didn't see that he did the same with
Paul, Aaron, Sean and Howie. He was too wrapped up in stifling his moans,
then remembering he wasn't supposed to, then biting them back again. Ned's
hands were so delicate and strong at the same time.

Bobby did okay until Ned moved behind him. Ned's ample cock was the perfect
height to tap his buttocks whenever one of them would move. When Ned hit
that one perfect place, the soft flesh of Bobby's sides, the boy whimpered
loudly, unable to contain it. Ned's hands continued to rove,
though. Thighs, brushing his churning balls. Belly, knuckle stroking the
topside of his painful erection, each getting its own whimper of need.

When Ned got to his chest though, Bobby's breath started to come in deep
gasps held forever then a sigh and another gasp. The nimble fingers circled
closer and closer to his tits, each nipple as engorged as his cock. They
weren't on the map, off limits for selection, and Bobby prayed fervently
that Ned would move on. He knew they had a direct connection to his
trigger. Apparently, the Protectorate was right and religion was a sham,
for his sincere and urgent prayers went the opposite of merely unanswered.

Ned started to caress and tease his best buddy's nipples. Bobby had once
let slip how sensitive they were after a particularly-frustrating date and
Ned was fascinated and almost obsessed with the idea. Bobby moaned and
whimpered, biting his lip. He suddenly whispered, "No. Oh, no. No. Please,
no."

Ned leaned in and let his breath caresses his buddy's ear, "I'm sorry,
buddy, but I've got to. You are so fucking hot, so sexy, so perfect. I am
so, so sorry." He smiled, knowing Bobby couldn't hear a facial expression
as he redoubled his efforts on the nipples.

Bobby's voice became a whispered, whimpered mantra, "No. No, no. No, no,
no! Oh God, no. No-no, no-no-no. Oh, oh, OH! No-no-no-no-no-nonononono"
Then next sounds was a strangled, swallowed scream of ecstatic misery. He
unloaded across the floor, shooting several feet as he died inside with
fear, self-loathing and embarrassment.

Ned jumped a foot as he felt Howie's bristly fur on his back. The man
reached around and pulled Ned's still-swirling fingers away. "Very well
done, both of you, but let's give poor Bobby a break, shall we? And Bobby,
you have a very nice string of points for that performance. You were
everything a husband would want. Well done. Oh, and don't worry about the
jizz. The night bots take care of that, and it would be a very sad day if
they didn't have several nice loads to suck away." He chuckled as he moved
away.

*****

Junior was simply petrified, unable to move. Jackson was massive and
intimidating when fully clothed. Naked, he utterly unnerved the younger,
small guy. Jackson spotted that decided to take matters into his
own... hand.

"Come on baby, don't be like that." He crooned, forcing Juniors eyes' away
from his body and to his face. "You know we both gotta, and I don't think
you're gonna hate it too much, now are you?" Jackson was used to this kind
of seduction, unknowingly falling straight into the Stud approach, coaxing
and cooing and tempting and daring. It worked for chicks, so why not...?

"Just a little touch, baby, just try it. I won't hurt ya. I know you don't
*want* to be feeling up a big old black muscle-man, but they're making
us. Come on, now, just a little ole touch?" Jackson's smile became an
almost-feral thing as he watched Junior's hand creep out and heard the kid
gasp when he made contact. Junior acted like he was in a trance, enthralled
by the deep voice of the black stud. "That's it, baby. Oh yeah; make me
feel good, baby."

Junior's hands now both touched the silky-smooth chocolate skin with its
light sheen of sweat. Jackson had always had a strong musk, and it was even
more pronounced after the sexy talk and inevitable leakage.

In the control room, Rob noted how Junior's nostrils flared wide,
subconsciously longing for more of that manly, sensual aroma. He looked up
as his second-shift assistant, Leo, settled into the next station. "You're
just in time, big guy." Leo, Leonard Washington, was a strapping black man,
not a muscle-stud like Jackson, but with broad shoulders and a mass of
tightly-curled hair over much of his ebony skin. You take sets one and
four," Aaron/Sean and Jackson/Junior, "and I'll take the others. Nothing
special in either set, but three has Vinny and the little Italian kid is
turning into a hard nut to crack."

Leo licked his lips and felt his dick surge to attention as he saw the two
sets. Jackson, the black muscle god and the little twink white kid was a
deeply-held fantasy of his, and the match of the mature Sean with the
trembling Aaron promised a real thrill as well. 'God,' he thought, 'I
fucking love this job!'

Leo watched as Jackson continued to croon and coax. "Oh, yeah, baby. Those
hands are so soft and so strong. You got magic touch, baby. Yeah, just like
that. Feel those muscles. You like muscles, honey?" He hit a double-bicep
pose and felt a spurt of dogwater at the little guy's gasp of appreciation
and lust. The hands were suddenly all over his flexed arms and he nearly
purred. Nothing was as hot as being worshipped. Sure, he'd rather it was a
hot black chick, but a skimpy white boy? Not bad at all...

Matt -- he'd never in his life thought of himself as Junior and loathed the
dismissive, mocking nickname his father had always labeled him with --
moved constantly instead of concentrating on one area. He roved round the
back and then to the front, working he way around and across the dream body
he was touching. He was trembling that this deeply-forbidden fantasy was
coming true and, at least on current showing, he wasn't about to get ground
to a bloody mush. He grew bolder, stroking the big balls and getting an
appreciative coo of encouragement.

Like him, Jackson was uncut and he let the meaty foreskin ripple through
his hand. He thrilled at the shuddering breath that wrested from the huge
guy. He knelt and Jackson literally moaned at the sight. Matt down there,
so utterly submissive and worshipful, was almost too much for the big stud.

Jackson had gone from Double Bicep to Lat Spread and the boy took the
chance to rub up the black man's inner thighs. He felt the muscles trembled
under his hands and smiled, repeating the petting, teasing strokes until he
heard Jackson start to huff. He finished with the feet, getting an
indignant swallowed-giggle and rose to his full height. "Um, J-J-Jackson?
Can you, um, c-can you sit d-d-down for a minute? You're so t-tall?"

Jackson purred at the implied praise of his huge form from this small,
beautiful -- Wait? What the fuck? Jackson shook himself -- delicate, that's
it, delicate boy. Instead of sitting, Jackson went into one of his
'semi-relaxed' poses from back when he tried competing.

His right leg couched and left fully extended to the side, he let his arms
appear to rest on his wide thighs, using the tension there to pop the
muscles of his shoulders and arms. He'd always loved the way he looked in
this pose. He crowed inside at the almost-covered little moan Junior gave
out. He nearly screamed, though, when it wasn't just hands that began to
cover his sweating, oh-so-ready body.

Matt didn't care anymore. He was going to taste the sweat whose aroma was
making him insane. He leaned in as his hands traversed the shoulders, neck
and upper back, stroking and teasing. He let the very tip of his tongue
lick under and around the ear. Matt nearly came when the coaxing cooing
stud huffed out an "Oh, fuck! Yeah, baby! That. Do that, honey! Oh, God,
baby, yeah, do that."

He kept it up then dropped his hands as far as he couldn't, finding he had
just barely enough wingspan to tease the ear with his tongue and the inner
thighs with his fingers. "Baby, uh, uh, uh, Baby? You're uh, you're uh,
gonna get me, get me, get me. Fuck, baby, don't stop." Stop? Matt almost
choked with laughter. Stop?!? Leaving one hand to keep the caress of the
extended, flexed thigh, he let the other graze with torturous slowness up
the thick shaft.  "Um, um, um. Baby. Uh, honey, baby, uh, you gotta
st-t-t-top, baby."

Matt's voice had a predatory tinge that cut through Jackson's haze like
blowtorch through mist. "You don't want me to stop, Stud. I know that. You
want to um all over your 'baby' don't you? Come on, you fucking Stud, show
me you like it. Paint me, Stud. Show me you want it. Show me--"

Jackson didn't even have a presence of mind in his fuck-lust to keep his
voice down as his bellowed through his orgasm. He coated the younger boy
with his cum, slashes speckling his own chocolate thigh with
white-chocolate morsels. He literally fell back out of the pose, luckily
landing softly against the side of the couch as he caught his breath.

He didn't even pause, but leapt into a rough and powerful exploration of
the younger boy's cum-drenched body. Matt, having cum so explosively in the
shower in Howie's hands, was able to hold it together, but was openly vocal
as Jackson found those spots he loved to touch as he pleasured himself. A
loud, "Ohhhhhh GOD!" erupted when Jackson returned to the clavicle, this
time with nibbling lips.

Jackson sat back, pleased. He leaned forward, chin brushing Matt's ear. He
let his gruff voice growl like a lion recently sated on a gazelle, "Junior,
I owe you one. And I always, always pay with interest, baby. You tell me
when you're ready to collect, you pretty little white boy." He pulled back
and smiled at the glazed, dazed, amazed look on Matt's sweaty face.

*****

Rob scowled at the monitor for Vinny and Paul. Vinny's turn came first and
he honestly looked like he was going to puke. You could not have done a
more perfunctory and inept job is you tried, and it was clear Vinny had
tried.

Rob started to make a note, then turned instead to a messaging
app. Clicking Daniel's and Howie's icons, he wrote, 'V needs
incentive. Suggest stim & total block.' Two dings came back at almost the
same instant. 'Agreed' and 'Proceed'. Rob smiled savagely at the image of
the smug, contemptuous youth.

Vinny sighed with relief when his wristband went DING. He said, "Sorry,
Paul!" with a smile that made it clear he meant no such thing. He
practically sprinted to the back of the room where an identical food
machine stood waiting. He barely got his band in range before the door
clicked. He opened it and found just a smoothie.

He wasn't the first to get just a drink, but he had desperately hoped for
something that would allow him to escape the session longer. Even with
that, he made slow work of the thick, creamy drink with the odd flavors. He
kept shooting glances at Paul, but the utterly-unrufflable man-child's
visage made it clear he could wait for the final trump and not be fussed.

He finished and went back to Paul. "Okay, I was done anyway." He picked up
his digidesk and punched a random mark, not even noticing which it was. "I
guess it's your turn." He rolled his neck, noticing it felt a little sore,
and quite warm. Not like a fever, more like a body-blush, the flush that
certain steroids induced -- so he heard! Not that he, you know, ever! Rob
smiled as he watched the ginko analogue take effect, heightening his sins
sensitivity. Vinny felt it spread slowly, noticing that he could now sense
even small movements in the air.

Paul watched for a moment, then moved in. Rob could tell from the sensors
that he was minimally-interested in the operation, but he also was a
dedicated athlete. The coach suggested 'you might try x', and you jumped to
do *XXX*!

He slowly began to run his hands up Vinny's arms and Vinny jumped
hard. Paolo gave him a frown and continued. "Get it over with, asshole. I
don't like your hands all over me!" but even Vinny's voice betrayed the
reality that his body relished the touch, loved it in fact. He tried and
failed to suppress moans and gasps and shudders of pleasure as Paul's hands
moved across his skin. At one point, he thought he might pass out from the
pleasure as the hard, supple hands found the area right along his Apollo's
Belt that had always gotten to him. "Fuck, dude! Hurry up! You gonna make
me cum!"

"Uh, dude? You feeling okay?"

"Yeah, but you're driving me nuts, Paul!"

"What you talkin bout? Like, dude, you're not even chubbed. You shrank,
even!"

Vinny gaped at his completely-flaccid dick. He felt like another touch
would cause him to shoot across the fucking room, but the Brazilian kid was
right. He hadn't been *that* soft in years! He actually looked like he'd
just got out of the pool! Without thinking, he grabbed his junk. It was
like grabbing a limp water balloon. He could feel the touch and all but,
sexually? Nothing! Fuck, what's going on?

Vinny shook himself back to his default sneer. "Of course not. I don't get
railed from some guy touching me. I'm not a fag YEA-OUCH!" He yelped and
jumped, ending up on his ass staring up in fear at Paul. "What the fuck did
you do?!?"

"Paul didn't do anything, Vinny." Howie said. "I explained that anyone who
took a line like you just did would get a taste of punishment. That was the
shortest ping on the lowest setting. I suggest that you learn from
it. Paul, do you have what you need for the digidesk? Good; have a seat and
relax." He yanked Vinny to his feet like a doll and dragged him to the
side.

"Vinny, you don't get it. This isn't school. This isn't a sports
workshop. This is your one and only chance in a world you don't even
understand yet! Get with the program or you are in for a lifetime of
absolute hell, son.

"First off, even in the Protectorate, there are jobs too dangerous and
complicated and nasty for robots. That's the kind of job you'll have to
take just to survive if you don't have a family. And you're not going to
get ANY First-Husband to look at your twice with that attitude.

"Second, they pay us to get every single one of you into shape for family
life. There are no rules, son. There is no principal or parent or ACLU to
moan about us being mean, or cruel or ruthless. You fuck up, and it will
HURT and hurt bad. I wasn't kidding. That was the absolute minimum pain the
Protectorate tech can give. Somewhere around the middle settings, it will
put you on your ass so hard and for so long, you won't be up and walking
for days. And yes, every single team member can *and has* gone that high
and higher. Do. Not. Fuck. This. Up."

Vinny stared, slack jawed, the pain still throbbing though his back and
limbs. His mouth worked soundless as Howie walked over to another
group. Vinny closed his eyes, hugged his knees and tried desperately not to
cry. What made it hurt so, so, so much worse was how much he yearned to
really *touch* Paolo and Ned and Aaron. He hated that part of himself since
he was a child and saw how obsessed he was with his uncles. Puberty made it
worse, as every fantasy tried to move to a guy no matter how hard he forced
himself to think of chicks. 'I will not cry. I am not weak. I am a man. I
will not cry. I am not...' the mantra simple failed to bring the strength
it had always had.

*****

Sean spoke, "Looks like I'm up first. Just relax, be calm, be patient and
try to focus on what you feel. You'll do fine, Aaron, really." He then
proceeded to slowly, thoroughly and exhaustively blow the young man's
mind. He was confident and so experienced he knew how to vary pressure and
stroke and speed. Aaron was thrumming, moaning almost constantly as Sean
taught him things about his own body he had never even suspected.

He took his time, ensuring that Aaron stayed at maximum arousal, smiling as
he found places the boy had obviously never considered. His underarms made
him literally drool when he stroked and caressed the sloppy pits. It didn't
take any real skill to tell that the place he'd marked, though, was his
hands. He purred and mewled like a happy kitten as Sean played his long,
tender fingers like miniature cocks. He brought the boy close over and over
but knew that tonight was going to be very, very interesting if he just
left him to hang like that.

The look of unendurable mourning that accompanied his announcement that it
was Aaron's turn was almost comical. What wasn't comical in the least was
the turnabout he gave Sean. The 26-year-old was gobsmacked at how
tender-tough his touches were and how the youth reacted brilliantly to
every hint of feedback.  Howie had, accurately (and from memory) found his
kryptonite, the softest part of the belly, right about the public
mound. What Aaron did, though, stunned Sean. He localized the sensations
further and further until Sean was ready to scream, finding a literal
pinpoint that we the core of that SCZ.

Another surprise came a little later at his neck. It wasn't that he wasn't
sensitive there; it was a great SCZ for him. It just took a very specific
type of slow, firm, petting to make him purr. Aaron skimmed over the place
and returned later with a different touch, as if his fingers... smelled a
SCZ but couldn't find it. He made five or six passes before Sean's
heartfelt groan of pleasure even brought a surprised look from Howie. What
the fuck WAS this kid?

*****

When the last moans and echoes stilled, Howie pulled the guys back into
shape. "Okay, gentlemen, here are the results of your, ahem, 'pop'
quiz. Full marks go to Ned, Jackson, Paolo and Aaron. Partial marks go to
Bobby -- you were right, lower back was a serious SCZ but he'd actually
marked ears; if you had done as Sean, Junior and Jackson and tried lips or
kisses, you likely would have been able to tell. Partial marks to Junior
for the opposite reason. You guessed ears when he'd marked thighs. From
what I saw, I likely would have done the same. That's it."

Everyone glanced at Vinny, the only name not mentioned for even partial
marks. Vinny glowered in resentful rage, but was smart enough, this time,
to keep his mouth shut.

"I'll let you in on a secret, gentlemen. I'll confirm it later, but my
preliminary readings suggest that, um, three and perhaps even four of you
will be getting some bonus points for a variety of reasons. We'll discuss
those tomorrow.

"As for tonight, we'll retire to the Common Room where I'll show you the
limited entertainment options. As you gain points, you can expand
them. Room-lock is at nine-thirty; lights go out at ten. You will be waking
up -- trust me, you will -- at seven and will start your day at
seven-thirty. You will room as follows until told otherwise: Vinny is with
Ned, Paul is with Jackson, Bobby is with Junior. To round out the numbers,
Sean will be staying with us for a few nights and will room with Aaron.

"You will also have homework for this class. After room-lock, you are to
practice your lesson today regarding touch, and bring your partner to
orgasm. How you achieve that is entirely up to you, but shirking homework
is, I promise, a Very Bad Plan."

Ned looked absolutely mutinous at the news. He glared at Vinny, knowing
that his own points were on the line and at the mercy of this uncooperative
prick. Bobby was just as pissed, but because he wouldn't get a shot at Ned
which he wanted so badly he could taste it. Paul's Puppy, Junior, seemed
really miffed until he looked over at the stunning male beauty that Aaron's
younger brother had turned out to be. Paul and Jackson looked at each other
appraisingly while Aaron just stared in slack-jawed, near-drooling delight
at his luck. In the control room, Rob and Leo high-fived. Their
correlations had worked very well and the pairing were almost ideal in the
overall program protocol. Other than poor Ned, this promised to be a
very... educational evening.

<eof>

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