A POSSIBLE FUTURE:

The circular porthole window, he peers out it, looking at what few have ever had a chance to gaze upon it, to behold from such an awe-inspiring perspective. Now, even fewer will see it unless you are part of the Program.

The orb, the blue and green sphere, below, inhabited by millions and millions of human beings, homo sapiens, once. This is the place where naturally created oxygen provides sustaining life, for those who still call this multi-colored orb, home and sanctuary.

This is where they live.

Where he once lived.

A planet, which has teemed with life for millions and millions of years, it has been corrupted, tainted.

Countless rotations of the sun fuel its ongoing, although limited existence.

However, times have changed, there.

Life goes on but not as it once did.

New seed is needed.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" his fellow Astronaut comments, "not a bad sight when you are floating around in a giant metal orbiting cock."

The Supreme Commander fondles his flaccid penis, through the front opening of his fatigue green colored boxer shorts, adjusting himself because the conversation has ignited his inner passions.

Alexander smiles with father-like respect towards his Superior.

"Yes, it is, sir," he answers, "there is no place, like home."

Their Space Station, Phallus-Delta, their home, orbits high above Earth's enclosed, biosphere shielded and tainted home; it has its purpose, its assigned mission. A team of scientist in dire need, created an array of vessels to meet that particular need, where they could be safe.

The long cylinder-like shaped ships, with their large round, enormous beach-ball-like booster rockets; it is where they make their home. Astronauts paired in twos for their working and social interacting capabilities, assigned together for their particular skills.

On this particular station, this pairing are brothers-from-different-mothers but brothers in reality in their shared masculinity.

This duo.

One man, rough, hard-edged with many years of interstellar space travel courses through his veins. He is the Commander Officer, the Superior.

The other man, more formal, regimented, determined, younger, now occupies the position once held by 'the Superior's' previous partner.

Their roles reversed.

They are partners on the orbiting space station; one could not survive without the other, neither would want to.

"You best get back to your work and quit Earth-gazing," says the higher-ranking Superior and his fellow Astronaut.

"Yes, sir."

He moves from his spot, from peering through the rounded porthole.

His Superior officer floats away, back to his assigned daily work and duties in another area of the orbiting penile-shaped space station. He maintains his part of the necessary vital systems so that the two lone male inhabitants can continue living and fulfilling their mission.

He must get back to work, too, but he is distracted, caught up in the floating two-toned globe just outside the window, just beyond his reach.

From over the loudspeaker, his commanding officer, the man who had previously been by his side as he gazed out upon the Earth below them, issues an order.

"Astronaut Alexander, have you made your daily contribution to the A.S.S. unit today?"

"No sir, "he answers as the system recognizes his voice over the orally-activated system. It recognizes his particular voice pattern of the two sole human male occupants of Space Station Phallus-Delta.

"Go make your contribution and then report back to your post for further instruction," his Commander continues.

"Yes, sir," he answers.

Once more, he ponders what he has seen from the round porthole, an Earth that seems so far away, yet, so close. He misses the touch of the soft Florida beach sand, the white loamy crystal-rich soil of Siesta Key, under his tempered, tested and tried feet. He once called this place home. He misses his beach runs, of being bare-chested in the South Florida sun. His real home, the four-walled dwelling-box that was just mere feet from the warm waters of the Gulf; it is what he longs for on this solitary-like day in space.

This was his life before he was called up into the Program.

He was chosen because of what he offered, could offer.

He met all the criteria.

Strong.

Virile.

Muscular.

Attractive.

No longer a virgin.

Tested and other unseen qualifications, he was not privy to know about, all he knew was that he met the criteria.

"What are you waitin' for, Alexander?" the voice of his Superior once again drones on over the unseen space station PA system, "I can still see you are at the window, report to your assigned duty, Astronaut. I will be watching."

"Yes, sir."

"What are you waiting for? Go," the Commander barks over the onboard PA system.

Alexander nods his head and drifts off, destination in mind, on the invisible currents of weightlessness as he makes his way to the A.S.S. unit in the upward corridor of the space station.

***

At the entrance of the unit, a simple stenciled abbreviation announces the arrival to the A.S.S. unit. Nothing fancy, nothing signifying the importance of the work that is done here in this sterilized chamber of the space station. Just a simple bronze placard with three letters of the alphabet emblazed upon it. Large capitalized initials, A-S-S, on the bulkhead of this specified chamber. The work being conducted here to further the continued existence of the vanishing human race. The door to the unit opens as he nears it as he nears it. A low whirring sound is the only thing audible in this area of the spacecraft.

"Welcome Astronaut Alexander," the computer-simulated voice called, DIX, says to him once he drifts into the chamber designated, the A.S.S. unit.

"Thanks, DIX," Alexander answers the computer with the appropriate response.

"Shed your garments, sir, and prepare yourself for the daily contribution," the computer named DIX orders the floating Astronaut.

"Will do," he answers.

"Inappropriate response, Astronaut," the cold-sounding inhuman mechanical voice echoes its sentiments from the unseen onboard audio-visual system of the space station.

"Will do as commanded, DIX," he answers correctly.

"Appropriate response, Astronaut," the computer responds in its assigned fashion.

Alexander pulls his government-issued green tee shirt over his head. The weightlessness of space lifts his thinly sparse smattering of hair on his chest and arms, freeing it, simulating him in the vacuum of space within the chamber. His exposed nipples grow erect in the coldness of this chamber. The computer, known as DIX, suctions his loose flying tee, which is adrift in the manufactured breathable air, into an unseen tube out of the way.

"Now your boxer shorts, sir," the still-cold voice of the computer vocalizes its next order.

Doing a weightless flip, in a circle, in the confined chamber, Alexander removes his flimsy identically government-issued green colored boxer shorts from his body. Like his upper body hair when he removed his shirt, the bushy hairs around his pubes, and lower body responds in a similar fashion. They, too, are loosened and gently massaged from the freedom of the weightlessness of eternal space.

The spacecraft computer grabs his boxer shorts in the same manner that it absconded away with his shirt. It disappears, too, into the far reaches of the orbiting space-faring outpost.

He drifts, naked, in the weightlessness of the space station in the section labeled A.S.S.

"Are you okay, Astronaut?" his Superior's voice echoes throughout the corridors of the orbiting spacecraft.

"I am well, sir," he answers.

"Carry on, then," the voice from the Commander conveys over the PA system, "your cock should be approaching erect status now, boy, as it readies for the A.S.S. unit. Why hasn't it?"

Alexander looks down at his limply flaccid penis among the manly fur betwixt his muscled legs.

"Yes, sir," he answers.

"Make it so, Alexander," the Commander once again issues his orders.

"Prepare your penis for sperm extraction, Alexander," the computer voice orders the drifting Astronaut.

Alexander begins masturbating his exposed male sex organ. However, he is caught in a tumbling roll as his motions have caused him to rotate in a ball from his machinations.

"The motions you are exhibiting Astronaut is not conducive to a favored outcome, Alexander, is the Astronaut in need of assistance?" the steel-cold voice makes its observation.

"I am in need of assistance, DIX," he responds accordingly.

Four mechanical tentacles reach out from the walls of the A.S.S unit, each grabbing one of his hairy appendages', arms and legs, from the seemingly rolling Astronaut as he flips and whirls in the weightlessness of the confined chamber. Separate mechanical-tentacle arms grab each of his two flailing arms and his two legs, steadying him, immobilizing him in the weightlessness of the chamber. The grips by the tentacles are non-harmful. The floating Astronaut is no longer gripping his penis, which flops about once he is no longer able to be self-stimulated. A thin spray of clear liquid escapes from his penis, it drifts about in the chamber. He is spread-eagle-like in the weightless empty room of the A.S.S. unit.

"Much needed sperm is escaping, filling the chamber," the computer, says, "Cease in this expulsion, immediately, man's essence should not be wasted in such a manner, when it cannot be stored."

"I can't help it, DIX," Alexander says, perturbed.

"Inappropriate response," the computer says.

"DIX!" Alexander yells out of from frustration from the ongoing aggravating computer voice.

Alexander calms down, slowly, re-collecting his faculties because of his frustration.

"The One still has not reached the appropriate stage for extraction, Alexander," the computer states the obvious in its mechanically-toned voice, "is the Anal-Sexual-Stimulator required?"

"Yes, it is," he answers.

"What is the problem, Alexander?" his Superior once again conveys his opinion over the PA system.

"I can't seem to get erect, sir," he answers, "it must be the lack of gravity, sir, I believe."

"I can see that as I am observing you over the visualization screen," the Superior says, "make it so with the assistance of A.S.S."

"Yes, sir," Alexander answers," I am glad you are observing me, sir, I want to please my Superior and help my world continue on with its continued existence."

"Duly noted, carry on with your task, junior," the Superior says.

"You sound winded, sir," Alexander asks, "are you, okay?"

"I am fine," he responds, "I am just busy myself, observing your extraction."

"Yes, sir," Alexander responds.

He wishes to do his duty as an Astronaut of the human alliance, of the human race, of Earth.

"Prepare for anal lubricate," the mechanical voice echoes deep from within the bowels of the space station.

"I am prepared," Alexander gives the appropriate response.

A fifth tentacle snakes it way from the whitewashed metal walls of the A.S.S. chamber, approaching the Astronaut's waiting gluteus-maximus of the steadily floating spread-eagled man. The two tentacle-arms further open his legs, slightly wider as it inserts the pre-assigned portion of water-based lubricant into his anus.

"Ahh," Alexander sighs as the cold lube from the fifth tentacle arm massages into his hairy-lined ass-crevice.

The fifth arm, once its task is sufficiently completed, it disappears, invisibly back into the un-seamed walls of the Phallus-Delta space station.

"Cease with the word-speak, Astronaut," the computer voice reprimands the naked suspended Astronaut.

"It is cold, DIX, you could have warmed it," Alexander says, frustrated.

"Quite arguing with the damned computer, Alexander, why haven't you gotten hard, yet," his Commander once again comes over the PA system, "I am waiting."

"Yes, sir," Alexander composes himself.

"Prepare for penile-simulator insertion," the computer warns him of the impending A.S.S. equipment.

Another identical arm, the sixth, snakes from another spot on the wall. This one, however, has a rounded mushroom identical head, penis-like, and makes his way to Alexander's exposed buttocks.

The arm stops short of its destination.

"Penile-simulator aligning for eventual insertion," the computer announces its intentions, "remain still for anal penetration. Do not tense your buttocks?"

"STOP! HALT!" Alexander yells.

"Operation, ceased," the computer responds, accordingly.

"Open viewing-window, DIX," Alexander says before the A.S.S. unit inserts the penile-stimulator.

"What's the issue, Alexander?" his Commander once again makes a comment from his observational position in the command module.

Alexander does not answer.

In front of him, in the empty chamber, the window, which faces the vast reaches of space, slowly opens up. The steel panel slides from the hidden window, revealing the beauty of the blackness of open space, before him.

Stars twinkle, wink, and comets pass before him, by the space station as the window magnifies the richness and beauty of the varied cosmos that lies outside the spacecraft.

"Rotate the A.S.S. chamber room to face Earth, DIX," Alexander makes his requests known to onboard computer system.

A low-whirring mechanical sound echoes in the small chamber, as it is re-positions itself in the direction of Mother Earth.

"Thanks, DIX," Alexander thanks the unseen computer activated system.

"Happy to comply, sir," the computer responds with a hint of human emotion in its response.

"Continue with insertion, DIX," Alexander says.

As the metal arm, snakes into Alexander ably lubed prepared buttocks. His penis initiates slow growth as the stimulator is welcomed up into his buttocks.

His cock grows harder as he is slowly filled, fully, with the steel-dildo-like arm from the Space Station Phallus-Delta A.S.S. unit.

He is approaching maximum penile erective stance.

His body pulses, turning red, as his temperature rises and his excitement builds.

Alexander jumps as the 'arm' stimulates his prostate.

"Nice erection, you got there, sport," says the voice of his Commander, "about damn time."

Alexander pants heavily as he is nearing his ecstasy-moment but still very far from a climatic release.

He calms himself before he answers his Commander.

"Thank you, sir."

"Are you at your hardest, boy?"

"No, sir," he answers.

"Well, get harder, remember your assigned duty?" the Commander stresses the importance of his task, "the world needs the sperm of young virile men, like yourself. Remember there are other men on similar spacecraft orbiting the Earth, like Phallus-Delta, engaging in scheduled collections too, orbiting our sterile home world. You, men, are the only hope for our continued survival as a species in this universe."

"Yes, sir."

"Commencing gyrations," the computer warns of its next impending actions.

The dildo-arm, from the sixth extension from the A.S.S. unit slowly begins a steady pumping motion in Alexander's prepared anus, with each inward thrust.

His cock grows ever harder.

A drop of clear seminal fluid slowly forms on the glistening penile-head of Astronaut Alexander.

"Ahh, fuck...ahh, fuck!" Alexander cries out of sheer joyful ecstasy as he fills the sperm built up in his dual testacies.

"Not the appropriated response, Astronaut," the computer reprimands the gleefully impaled Astronaut.

"FUCK YOU, computer!" Alexander shouts out in the enclosed chamber.

"Unable to comply with the stated request," the onboard computer responds to Alexander's exclamation.

The A.S.S. computer gently and methodically rams the dildo-arm further up into Alexander's anus, further stimulating his already overworked prostate.

"Ahhh."

"Ahhh."

Alexander moans in a chorus of inaudible gut-retching incoherent sounds as his backside is breeched, repeatedly.

A loud buzzer sounds as Alexander has reached full erect manhood status.

"Astronaut Alexander's penis is at maximum erection," the steely cold audio from the A.S.S. unit computer named DIX verifies what Alexander knows to be true.

"Good boy, job, well done," the Commander congratulates Alexander on his 'at attention third soldier' as he watches from the command observation module.

In the sterile white chamber of the A.S.S. unit, Alexander's sweaty and exhausted body reacts to the stimulations from the sperm-collecting automaton. The suspended Astronaut, clasped gently but firmly in the delicate arms of the four tentacles, spread-eagled, weightless in space, and the mechanical tentacle, that stimulates the actions of human-animal intercourse in his male anus as he nears full expulsion of male mammal-sperm.

"A.S.S. unit collection suctioning device preparing for the eventual sperm from subject, Astronaut Alexander aboard the Space Station Phallus-Delta," the DIX computer says by rout ease.

A seventh arm with a gathering cup and suctioning-hosed enclosed cap emerges from the wall. It hovers toward the sweat-drenched Astronaut, specifically, his hard erect swollen throbbing penis, as it prepares to receive the sample of sperm from the space-faring donor.

"I am gonna cum," Alexander yells out as he body beads up with more tiny droplets of perspiration, his flesh glows brightly red, as he nears climatic explosion.

The seventh tentacle arm covers the swollen blood-engorged penis, which in turn, commences 'suction' on Alexander's male genitalia. The fit is tight over the swollen penis. It is safe and secure; it will not lose its suction. Its capabilities are of the most vital and important to the ongoing success of their mission, sperm collection.

"OH FUCK, OH FUCK! I'M CUMMIN'"

The Astronaut named Alexander releases his pent-up sperm from his overworked over-stimulated penis, the A.S.S. unit, suctions his penis with a delicate gentility as the last drops of his much-needed sperm is milked, tenderly, from his balled-testacies.

The milky white sperm makes the passage down the mechanical tube of what is called the seventh tentacle, to be deposited in the mini-rocket, where it goes for collection.

His body grows limp in the weightlessness of space in the small confined A.S.S. chamber. The seventh collection arm eases it grip from the penis of the Astronaut as it sends it bounty to the miniscule rocket where it will be sent to Earth with its precious payload.

"Penile-simulator disengaging from the anus of subject, Astronaut Alexander," the computer named DIX removes what is called 'the fifth-arm' from the suspended frantically panting astronaut.

Alexander sighs as he is emptied of the fifth armed penile-stimulator from his anus.

He raises his head, looking out the window, seeing the miniscule rocket, which holds his sought-after DNA, as it journeys toward the Earth-Alpha Collection Center.

The spacious large bay window allows him to see the globe, Earth, as it awaits his much-needed seed for the re-population of the Earth.

Alexander jumps at the sound of the alarm that reverberates throughout Space Station Phallus-Delta.

BONG!

BONG!

BONG!

"Unauthorized expulsion of male sperm from the command module, no collection device attained. VIOLATION! VIOLATION!"

"Unauthorized expulsion of male sperm from the command module, no collection device attained. VIOLATION! VIOLATION!"

The warning message repeats itself, loudly.

"Silence warning message, authorization, Alpha-Phallus-Prime," Alexander says as he hangs suspended, regaining his strength from his white milky-spermed discharge.

"Computer recognizes authorization from Astronaut Alexander," the DIX computer complies.

It grows silent throughout the space station.

"You are beautiful Mother Earth, how I long to once again walk upon you but I must do my duty, here, high above you, giving my life-giving seed to re-seed it," Alexander speaks aloud to himself as he gazes upon the Earth from the large bay window of the A.S.S. unit.

"Good penile discharge, Astronaut," the voice of his commander comes over the PA system," the Earth welcomes your donation."

"Thank you, sir," Alexander says between bated pants.

"Once you are disengaged from the A.S.S. unit, can you hurry up here to the command module and clean-up my console, there appears to be some unknown clear-like material covering it," the commander says.

"Yes, sir," Alexander says.

"I am going to take a shower, the command module got unreasonably hot for a moment, I am drenched in my own sweat," the commander further comments, "I had to strip off all my clothes."

"Yes, sir, I will be up there, momentarily."

Alexander smiles at the service of his Superior, always willing to go that extra mile for them to have a successful mission.

"A.S.S. unit, disengage," Alexander commands the DIX computer.

"A.S.S. unit disengaged."

The four-tentacle-arms release Alexander, simultaneously; it closes the viewing window of the Earth.

"A.S.S. unit Earth bay window closing," echoes the mechanical toned DIX onboard space station computer.

Once again, the naked Astronaut Alexander drifts on the unseen currents of no gravity, to his next assigned task, to clean the unknown but known substance from the console of the command module.

End Part One of Three

 

TallyMans

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