Date: Sat, 20 Aug 2022 17:06:15 -0400
From: mr.evan.andrews@gmail.com
Subject: PECs chapter 1 -- science fiction of fantasy

PECs
Chapter 1: Taken
Evan Andrews ©2022

This set of stories is not a fan fiction, although it is high space
opera. (So forgive the really stupid-sounding or dated terminology.) As
always, though, I had a cast of faces in mind for the characters. This
story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of
any of the men in real life.

If you have read Eric Frank Russel's The Great Explosion, you will
recognize the foundation of the story. If you have not, read it. Great SF.

The story depicts males in pulp sci-fi sexual situations with other
males. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is
illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you.

If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to
keeping Nifty going at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html


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"Well fuck," Warrior Feral of the Terran Periphery Exploration Command said
as their rocket ship was pulled towards the gaping maw of the giant alien
rocket's flight deck. His Irish brogue came to the forefront as he
continued, "I suppose we can guess what happened to our missing PEC
warriors."

"And our missing colony too," his ginger-haired and -bearded partner said.

The monster alien rocket had overtaken their own inside what their outdated
charts had identified as an old colony's space zone, and there it had shown
the Terrans that their scout, small yet one of the finest rockets in the
fleet, was no match to the aliens' superior engines. There was no way to
outrun the aliens, and for all the big ship's mass it proved it could match
them maneuver for evasive maneuver. When the aliens' capture ray took hold
of them at last, Feral and his superior, Speed, had pushed their rockets to
their limits (and maybe beyond, if you believed the manuals) trying to
break the pride of the PEC fleet free of its grip. The exercise had proven
to be a dismal failure.

"So now what, Speed?" Feral said as the ray deftly maneuvered the scout
into the flight deck and towards a berth. Out the cockpit windows they
could see a massive welcoming committee, all armored and bristling with
weapons.

Speed, grim in the face of the immanent battle, said, "We do what any PEC
warrior should do. We don't go down without a fight; we take out as many as
we can; and, if need be, we die with glory."

The big redheaded Irishman gabbed a blaster in each hand and turned to his
second.

"You ready, Feral?" Speed said.

"Right beside you, Speed. The Empire forever!"

"The Empire forever."

The two warriors turned to face the hatch and awaited the inevitable.

@@@@@

The quiet went on almost too long. Then the hatch suddenly blew open, and
the soldiers they'd seen outside poured in. As Feral had surmised they
weren't any lost colonists. These things were aliens, real aliens, slightly
taller and bulkier than their prey, and definitely uglier, and there were
dozens of them boarding the scout. The two PEC warriors got off a few
shots, ventilating maybe a dozen of the aliens, before the armored
creatures blitzed over, disarmed, and restrained them. It took less than
two minutes. Humiliating. Speed noticed, however that the dead aliens had
both biological and cybernetic components inside their bodies. Cyborgs! No
wonder they had been able to resist blaster fire and overpower simple flesh
and blood so easily. Maybe he and Feral would have had better luck if
they'd faced some real aliens.

"PEC warriors apprehended," one of the cyborgs said in a mechanical
voice. In English!

"Good," a male voice answered from the flight deck, "Notify Bishop, and get
them out here so we can see what it is we've caught."

"Speed," Feral said, "That voice. It's..."

"Yeah, I noticed, Feral," Speed replied.

The cyborgs half marched/ half drug the warriors out onto the flight
deck. There, at least a hundred more of the machine-enhanced creatures
awaited them. A hundred freaking cyborgs! And two human males wearing
nothing more than black trunks (bulging with their sexual organs) and
calf-high boots. (And wearing them well, Speed had to admit.)

Speed had not been all that much surprised when the alien ship hove into
view. It explained so much. This region had been chartered to a colonial
corporation (Speed had forgotten the name of the company) back in the good
old days of the United Planets. The UP, though many looked back on it as
some sort of utopia, hadn't been good enough for some of its citizens, and
the body politic had fallen into factionalism and eventually into a
devastating civil war, leaving the colonies to their own recognizance. Some
failed; some did not; but many simply were never heard from again. The easy
answer was always `It was aliens'.

It was only recently that the Empire had risen to unify the species once
more. One of the Empire's goals was to recontact the colonies that nobody
had heard a peep from in decades and invite them back into the
hegemony. So, while Speed and Feral had hoped to find colonials, they took
the idea of aliens in stride, What they hadn't expected to tumble across
was humans in command of aliens.

"Where the hell are we?!" Speed demanded of the two men. "And who the hell
are you?!"

The two colonials (presumably) looked at one another and smiled.

"You, red ranger," the shorter blond one said, ignoring Speed's questions,
"Are going to be a delightful addition to our stock. I really don't need to
tell you anything, but for what good the information will do you, I'll let
you know that you are now captives, prisoners of Bishop, captain of the
Black Hunter of the ShipClans of the State of Colonia Prima."

The colonial looked at a band on his wrist and said, "Ah, and the captain
has ordered you brought to him on the bridge immediately."

"Good," Speed snarled. "I have a few choice words for your captain."

The dark-haired shipman looked at his blond counterpart and said, "I can
hardly wait. Pork, I bet you a five spot he takes more than a hundred and
fifty hours."

"I'll take that wager," Pork said. "Nobody's lasted more than a hundred and
twenty hours yet."

"What in space's name are you talking about?" Feral demanded.

"How long it will take to break you," the brunet said, simply.

"Break us? You're dealing with a couple of Earth's finest warriors here!"
Feral brazened, "You've never dealt with our like before!

"Hear that, Pork?" the brunet laughed, "PEC here thinks he and his buddy
are our first Terran captives. That we don't have experience breaking
PECs."

(`PEC' Speed thought, `How did they know the word PEC?')

"Hilarious, Beef, but he'll learn. Slobgoblins, get this pretty pair
brigged up and ready to move out."

While the colonials (What sort of names were Pork and Beef?) examined the
rocket, the cyborg slobgoblins forced the captives towards a matching pair
of levitating square frames. This technology the PECs knew and
understood. Brigbots were standard issue on ships large enough to hold
prisoners. The frames projected a forcefield that would hold a captive
totally immobile when he was in it. Such prisoners, spread eagled and
looking for all the world like Da Vinci's Vitruvian man, could then be
moved and stored anyplace without any fear of escape. Speed had seen
prisoners brigged in real brigs, in sick bays, and even interrogation
rooms. For all he knew you could store them in chapels. In this case,
apparently, their initial (but possibly not their final) destination was
the ship's bridge.

After the PECs had been confirmed secure, the slobgoblins activated the
floaters, and the party fell in behind Pork and Beef.

"Roll out," Pork called.

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Speed had tried to imagine what the bridge on a rocket this big would look
like, but nothing prepared him for the reality. The bridge was a large,
mostly open room. A crystal dome ran from the floor afore, and swept back
like the windscreen on a modern repulsor speeder. Speed was surprised that
the colonials trusted the simple crystal expanse to protect them from the
brilliant stars and cold space outside. Banks of control stations (attended
by humans and slobgoblins) lined the open floor on either side and aft of
the captain's chair.

That chair, almost a throne, held a heavily muscled man. Clearly the ship's
captain. The man sported shoulder-length blond hair and a beard. Like the
two that had escorted the PECs up from the flight deck, the captain wore
nothing more than a pair of black trunks and boots, and both captives
noticed that, like his crewmen, the captain's respectable endowment was
front and center where he sat spread-legged.

"Captain Bishop, sir," Pork said, "The prisoners."

Bishop gestured for the prisoners to be brought to him, and while the
slobgoblins guided the floating brigbots forward, they saw something that
gave them chills. On either side of the throne, two all-but-naked men
knelt. If you were generous you could say they wore black briefs, but these
briefs had holes cut out of them so that their cocks and balls hung out the
front and their butts were bared behind. They also wore black metal
collars. (What neither Speed nor Feral noticed was that both kneeling men
were also impaled on metallic dildos projecting from the floor.)

Disconcertingly, both the kneeling men were at half chub.

"Speed," Feral whispered, "Is that..."

"Yeah, Feral. It's Polo and Beast, two of our missing warriors," Speed
whispered back.

"Yes, they are," the man in the throne (who was obviously not deaf)
said. "Or they were. Now, they are two of the finest pec slaves in my
stable. You might recognize the two beside them as well."

Alongside the kneeling men, two more all-but-naked men crouched on all
fours like dogs, their heads hung low. They wore the same `ventilated'
black briefs and collars, but they also had doggie-tail butt-plugs crammed
in their asses. Small wonder they hung their heads.

"Faces up, boys," the captain said. "Let the new prisoners see who you
are."

"Moe!" Feral exclaimed when he saw the South Asian face.

"And Dutch," Speed finished for him.

"And now to finish the introductions, I am Bishop, your captor and the
captain of the Black Hunter," the blond muscle stud said. "You may call me
Bishop, or Captain-- for now, but later you will call me Master before all
else."

"Like hell I'll call you anything of the sort," Feral snarled.

"Well, not right away, of course. First you need to experience a Hell of
our creation. Once you realize that absolute fulfillment and unspeakable
pleasure is your fate, but that they can only be obtained from complete
submission, then you will fall to your knees, call me Master, and grovel,
begging to know how you may please me."

"Like hell I will. Torture? Ha! Do your damnedest," Feral challenged the
colonial.

"I always do, and I'll reward your mouthy attitude by starting with
you—Feral, is it? Slobgoblins, bring Feral to me. Now."

The slobgoblins slid Feral's brigbot up next to Bishop, who stood up. He
grabbed the warrior's armored vest and pulled the lapels apart, tearing the
vest open and revealing the warrior's impressive pectorals.

"What the fuck?!" Feral cried out.

"Pretty," Bishop said as he ran a hand over Feral's chest. "I've often
wondered, does PEC actively seek out men with chests like this, or does
this man-sculpt come with all the exercise and conditioning? Eh, I suppose
it doesn't matter. Slobgoblins, get rid of Feral's vest."

The cyborgs manifested snippers and cut away the rest of Feral's supposedly
invulnerable torso armor. The pieces fell to the floor, but the crew of the
Black Hunter seemed to be more interested in the bearded warrior's body
than in his supposedly impregnable armor.

Bishop reached out and tweaked the pink-brown nubbins that graced Feral's
pectoral muscles. Perversely, Feral felt his nipples get hard, causing the
captain to nod in approval.

"Yes, you'll do just fine," the blond said cryptically.

"What do you mea... nah!" Feral started to say, but Bishop cut him off by
picking up a piece of gold mesh no larger than a thumbprint from the arm of
the command chair and pressing it against the warrior's temple.

"Fuck?!" Feral cried out as metal made contact with flesh, and then he
screamed in agony.

"Argh!"

The captain held his hand in position for a moment before pulling
back. Speed, watching closely as his partner panted from the pain, could no
longer see the piece of mesh. It must have insinuated itself under Feral's
skin. But why?

The captain pushed the now panting Feral away and said, "Now, bring me the
big redhead..."

Slobgoblins pushed Speed's brigbot forward, and Bishop repeated the
procedure. After stripping off Speed's vest, he examined the redhead's
pectorals as he had Feral's, but this time he toyed with the PEC's light
pink nipples right away, teasing them with gentle touches and tormenting
them with cruel pinches.

"Fuck! Ouch!" Speed cried out when Bishop grabbed his tits between thumb
and forefinger and twisted them. "What're you doing, you sick freak?"

"Doing, Speed?" Bishop said, smiling. "Why, whatever I want to. That's the
prerogative of a captor with his prisoners. Why? Aren't you enjoying it?"

The blond captain got back to deftly torturing Speed's nipples, which were
getting more and more sensitive by the second.

"Fuck!" Speed moaned.

Nodding approval at the reaction, Bishop produced a second piece of gold
mesh and pressed it against Speed's temple. The redhead felt every
agonizing second as the insidious thing burrowed first into his flesh and
then through the bone of his skull. Bishop had resumed his nipple play by
then, and in short order the pain in Speed's temple was of less importance
than the sexual heat that was suddenly rushing through his body. And the
warrior definitely noted it when Bishop added lips, teeth, tongue, and
sucking to his repertoire of stimulation.

Speed was a straight arrow, but even given that, he'd never had any use for
a dame playing with his tits. The big redhead was solely a dick and pussy
man. Bishop's sucking, however, was having a noticeable impact on the PEC's
sexual organ. The assault on his nipples was incredible, Speed thought, so
fucking different from that time the dame in Port Marinaris, fascinated by
his frankly spectacular chest, had tried to go there. As Bishop suckled at
his tits now, Speed could feel something unfamiliar welling up inside
him. The feeling that had filled him now felt like it might burst out of
his body at any moment if it could just find a way out. It warmed
him. Dangerously so. His blood seemed to boil, and his balls
churned. Fuck. His body desperately wanted to cum, but he couldn't let that
happen. Not in front of these damned colonials, and definitely not from
something as rosy poof as getting his tits sucked. Tits, yeah. That was
when Speed noticed the most important thing that was happening. That
unfamiliar feeling had found a way to escape-- through his tits. Fuck. And
it felt so good!

And inexplicably his cock was chubbing up just like Polo's and Beast's.

"Stop it!" Speed said, but the words came out with a whine, like the
warrior was begging.

"No," Bishop simply said. "My prisoner; my rules."

"Fuck.. It feels.. It's..."

Bishop continued his teasing, feasting on an insubstantial essence that was
beginning to flow from the Terran's nipples. Quickly sucking the PEC to an
erotic high, Bishop felt it when his prisoner's stance changed ever so
slightly. The stud was now trying to get as much of his juicy man-tit into
Bishop's mouth as was physically possible.

Grinning, the captain said around his prisoner's nipple, "Yes, just like
that, Speed, groove on it. Give yourself over to the sensation. Let it rule
your body, and soon I will rule your soul."

Without knowing why he did, Speed complied, and the more he gave in to the
feeling, the harder his cock got. As his dick started to leak precum, a
corner of Speed's mind remembered that the warriors kneeling on either side
of Bishop's throne. Speed had been in the shower with both Beast and
Polo. Their soft hangs were nowhere near what they were currently
sporting. Could it be that they, too, had...?)

Beef, noticing Speed's erection, pulled the redheaded warrior's tights
down, releasing his mighty one-eyed monster.

"Mmm," Bishop hummed approvingly, "That's good. Do you feel it, Speed? Do
you feel what the Id Tap, my little golden present, is doing to your mind,
to your body, and especially to your cock? Do you feel the pressure
building in your balls as I suck your nipples?

`Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!' Speed thought. `This can't be. Sucking on my tits can't
be turning me...'

But all the redhead could manage physically was to moan, "Ah!" and suddenly
the beading of precum on the head of his cock turned into a drooling font
as if a faucet had been turned on.

"Excellent," Bishop said around the nub of sensitive flesh in his
mouth. "Surrender to the feeling, Speed. Concentrate on me sucking your
nips. When it's enough, you'll know, because when it's enough, you
will... CUM!"

Bishop had read his celibate captive to a tee. As the captain said "CUM!"
he pinched Speed's other nipple hard, and the warrior's cock leapt,
blasting out a torrent of hot sperm onto Bishop's belly.

"Argh!" Speed screamed. "Cumming! Cumming! Cumming...! Argh!"

It was unlike any orgasm Speed had ever experienced. It wasn't just in his
cock; it wasn't just in his balls; the warrior's entire body shuddered and
spasmed with the release of sexual tension. As the dregs of the orgasm made
their appearance, Speed realized that he could easy become addicted to this
sensation.

"Slave Beast," Bishop said when Speed's cock was done hosing him with jizz,
"Clean this all up."

Speed, released from the brigbot's embrace, fell in a boneless heap on the
floor. Looking on in exhausted incredulity, the PEC watched as his
compactly muscled fellow warrior licked the sprays of a brother warrior's
sperm off the captain's body. And swallow it. Fuck! And the once proud
Beast had a full chub while he did it. That wasn't the warrior that Speed
remembered. Meanwhile Moe, whose own fuck-cudgel swung from side to side
like another tail, crawled forward and licked up whatever white gold had
dribbled onto the floor. Beef's contribution was to kneel down. He removed
Speed's boots and stripped him the rest of the way before cuffing the now
totally naked warrior's hands behind his back.

"There, Speed. Now you know what I do to my prisoners," Bishop said,
grinning wickedly. "I hope it met with your approval, because that's just
the beginning. Now, Feral, it's your turn to blow a wad."

Beef pulled Speed up to his knees, and the stunned warrior watched in awe
as Bishop tit-sucking raped Feral. Speed's buddy was kiss by kiss, lick by
lick, suck by suck, reduced to the humiliating state of serving as the
colonist's submissive precum-spiggot. Beef absently fingered up the few
drops of sperm that had landed on Speed's own body, and presented them to
the ginger captive. After a moment's contemplation, Speed reached out with
his tongue and licked the proffered fingers clean.

Wait. Why had he done that?! He didn't eat cum! Well, at least it was his.

While Speed fought this moral dilemma, Feral was living up to his
nickname. He thrashed under Bishop's teasing torture, and he screamed like
an animal when he finally unloaded onto Bishop's body before slumping to
the floor himself. Polo and Dutch teamed up in this case to lick the
captain's body and the floor clean again, and Pork stripped Feral the rest
of the way before cuffing the warrior. The two drained and stunned Terran
prisoners looked up at Bishop almost dreading what the captain might do to
them next.

"Pork, Beef, take these two away to the Training Suite and begin the
Procedure."

As slobgoblins drug the wobbly-legged Speed and his buddy off the bridge,
the redhead thought he heard Bishop's voice give another order.

"Slave Polo, you and slave Beast, on your knees now and worship my sex."


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Possible cast: mostly professional wrestlers, sorry. Speed, Sheamus (WWE);
Feral, Finn Balor (WWE); Pork, Drake Maverick (WWE); Beef, Brad Mattox
(WWE); Bishop, Triple H (WWE); Polo, Apollo Crews (WWE); Beast, Urijah
Faber (MMA); Dutch, Dolph Zigler (WWE); Moe, Mustapha Ali (WWE)