Date: Sat, 28 Oct 2017 14:32:35 -0400 From: Robert Heard Subject: Milking Machine Initiation It was one of the best days of my life. And not just mine, for my three friends as well. We had just been selected for the varsity basketball team! As 15-year-old freshman this was an unexpected honor for us. Freshman were usually assigned to the junior varsity team; however, coach saw us in action during our tryouts and was impressed with our fundamentals and discipline. He made the executive decision to start us off on the high school team. My name is Zack and I've been playing basketball since fourth grade. My friends and now teammates are Ben, Andrew, and Corey. We've known each other for years now, so starting together in the "big leagues" is a real honor. The older guys on the team had watched us during tryouts and were also impressed. Several of them said that we were better than they were at our age and would make great additions to the team. We basked in the praise, feeling like rock stars. We would start practice with the team next Monday, coach said. In the meantime we would pick up our uniforms and be assigned our team numbers. One afternoon after school we were all four approached by Kevin, a senior and the team captain. "Hey, guys," he said. We responded in kind. "So are you guys ready to start on Monday?" "Yeah," I said quickly. Everyone else nodded their agreement. "Well, here's the thing," he said as he lowered his voice and leaned in close. "We have a private initiation for all new guys. It's nothing too bad, just a little light hazing. Seriously, it doesn't hurt." We all looked at each other unsure of how to respond. "Can you guys get to the Johnson farm on the south end of town?" We all nodded. "Okay, good. Be there Friday night at 8:00." "Will the Johnsons care?" asked Corey. "No," replied Kevin. "They're my grandparents. And besides, they'll be gone for the weekend. It's just a little fun between us guys on the team," he assured us. And with that, the date was set: Friday night at the Johnsons'. Friday evening rolled around and the four of us met up on the south side of town near the ice cream shop. We all had our bikes and the ride to the farm was only about ten minutes. We set off, apprehensive yet excited. We were expecting to be formally welcomed onto the varsity team. A short ride later we arrived at the farmstead. The gate to the long driveway was open, and we could see several cars and pickup trucks parked by the barn. We rode along the driveway and laid our bikes down near the vehicles. Kevin and the rest of the team were standing at the barn's entrance, several of them drinking a bottle of beer. "Hey, guys!" he called out. "Glad you could make it." We walked over toward the group and Kevin began making introductions. Our school was fairly small and we all pretty much knew each other. "So guys, this is an initiation that we all went through," he said as he cocked his head toward the group. The other guys all grunted and nodded in agreement. "So what is it exactly?" Ben spoke up. "It's a little embarrassment and some team bonding," said Kevin with a smile. "Don't worry. I think you'll like it. And like I said, it doesn't hurt. Come on this way." Kevin and the team led us into the barn. It was a typical barn for this part of the country. It was old but not ancient. Inside there was a main floor which currently held a partially disassembled old tractor. Upstairs was a large hay loft. The remaining area of the main floor contained livestock stalls. Kevin led us to one of the stalls. It was surrounded on three sides by a wood-slat fence, the back side being the barn's northern wall. "All right, guy, here's the embarrassing part," he said as the team exchanged knowing looks. We all tensed up slightly, unsure of what to expect. "Get naked." We stood motionless for a moment. *Say what?* "You heard me, guys. Get naked. It's initiation time," he added. Ever the wise ass, Ben spoke up: "Does the initiation include blowjobs from cheerleaders?" We all cringed at his boldness and laughed nervously at the same time. "Maybe," Kevin replied. "Now come on, strip, everything but your shoes and socks." The team began clapping their hands and chanting "Strip! Strip! Strip" After exchanging a few nervous glances, Ben started us off by removing his shirt. One by one the rest of us reluctantly followed his example. In short order our clothes came off -- shirts, pants, and finally underwear. "Don't sweat it, fellas," interjected Adam, a senior. "We all had to do it." That helped -- a little. "Now line up with your backs to the fence, two on each side," instructed Kevin. We complied, each of us trying to discreetly cover our privates. "Okay, team, you know what to do." And with that the team moved forward as one. We were simultaneously pushed back against the fence, our arms stretched out along the upper slat, and our wrists secured in place by a length of rope. We all looked at each other with a *what the fuck?* look, unsure of what to make of this unexpected development. "All right, boys, are you ready to become official members of the team?" asked Kevin. We each nodded yes as the team cheered. "Okay, let's get started." A moment later another team member entered the stall pushing a machine of some kind on a wheeled cart. It had what looked like a motor, a metal container, and some plastic tubing. And then it hit me. It was a milking machine. Kevin and the guys saw that it was dawning on us. "That's right, boys. Tonight we make men out of you. You're each going to be hooked up to one of these vacuum teat pumps and milked dry." I shifted my gaze from the machine to my friends. They were all staring blankly at Kevin as he held a teat milker in his hand, the reality of our situation slowly dawning on us. "Let's do this," said Kevin. Four other guys moved in, each one taking a vacuum milker in his hand and sliding it onto our flaccid penises. Being naked in front of the entire team was humbling enough, but having someone attach a milker to my penis was just plain humiliating. But there we stood, our naked bodies on display for everyone to see, our arms stretched out and secured to the fence, and our cocks covered in a transparent plastic milking sleeve. "All right," said Kevin with a sense of satisfaction. "Only one more thing." He reached down and flipped a switch on the machine. Instantly the electric motor came to life and emitted a low hum that filled the space. Seconds later the milking sleeves tightened up as the pump created a vacuum, sealing in our penises. The machine began its slow suction on our teen members, firmly yet gently sucking and squeezing our male teats. I realized quickly that the sensation felt really nice, as did my friends. In less than a minute we were all sporting some serious wood. "Okay, guys, this is the part where we go outside and enjoy some cold beers. We'll be back for you fellas later," Kevin said with a wicked grin and a wink of his eye. "Oh, and feel free to moan and yell if you want. No one's around to hear you." And with that the entire team walked out of the barn and began their own festivities, leaving my friends and me to our fate. "Oh, man," said Corey. "How long do you think they'll leave us in here?" "They said till we're milked dry!" exclaimed Andrew. "How long will that take?" I wondered out loud. "Probably not too long for you dweebs," added Ben, always the helpful one. As I looked around the stall at my friends, it became apparent from their breathing and facial expressions that they were starting to enjoy this as much as me. Despite the initial shock and embarrassment, the steady rhythmic sucking of the milking machine was very pleasurable. We all had raging boners and I'm pretty sure I wasn't the only one leaking precum. The machine sucked the air out of the sleeves, creating a vacuum that squeezed our penises and gently tugged on them. The sensation it created was like a sexual itch you couldn't quite scratch. It felt good, damn good. I sensed it was only a matter of time before we all started having orgasms. And I wasn't wrong. Ben got there first. "Oh, damn. Ohh, daaammmnnn," he said as his body tensed up and his hips began thrusting. "Ugh! Ugh! Ohh! Ugh!" We all watched as the machine sucked Ben's semen out, its milky whiteness visible in the sheath and in the tubing. That was all it took. Within seconds the dam broke and we were all groaning and grunting as our young bodies spurted in sexual relief. The stall was filled with the sounds of "Argh! Ugh! Damn! Ohh! Ahh! Shit!" over and over as we were forced to ejaculate our semen. Bodies trembled, muscles strained, and faces contorted as we each let loose with a powerful orgasm, our teenage bodies shooting jet after jet of sticky boy jizz into the waiting sleeve. As our cums ended, I could hear a strange sound coming from the machine. It was a kind of splattering sound -- *splat, splat, splat* -- coming from the metal container. Then it hit me: it was our collected cum being deposited in the container! From the sound of it we had blown some pretty large loads. As we each stood there tied to the fence and unable to escape, a new realization occurred to the group: the machine was still milking us! While the sensations were intense and our penises were sensitive, it wasn't painful at all. In fact, it was rather pleasant because we were all still hard. "Oh, shit!" exclaimed Ben. "They're going to milk us till we're dry!" A look of horror yet anticipation on his face. As the truth dawned on each of us, we realized that this was going to be a long initiation. How long does it take to milk four 15-year-old boys dry?! Suddenly Ben tensed up again. "Ohh, God! I'm cumming again!" His body began convulsing, his legs spread wide as his throbbing penis once again released warm, wet spurts of teen splooge into the sleeve. "Ohh!! Ohh!! Shit!! Shit!!" he cried in desperation and release. That was all it took. Within seconds the rest of us were once again ejaculating uncontrollably. "Argh!! Ahh!! Damn!! Ugh!! Argh!!" One after another we released our adolescent cream into the milking machine, each of us silently wondering how long we could continue spurting. Till we were dry? When would that be?! "Well," said Ben, a shitty grin on his face, "I can think of worse ways to spend a Friday night!" Feedback is always welcomed and responded to. My email is orbl1415@gmail.com. If you like these stories, please consider a donation to Nifty.