"Bengara revolves around a pair of suns in a figure 8, completing a rotation once every 3.2 Earth years. The average Bengaran lives for over 250 Earth years..." The twenty men of Pod C listened carefully as Trippy finished his lecture. There would be a quiz and the losers would be punished.
"To achieve this longevity, Bengaran DNA has mutated to require periods of renewal three times each year, starting in adulthood. Bengaran women experience this as a period of intense productivity and low libido. During this period, innovators on Bengara have discovered cures to nearly every disease and developed the Quantum Drive that powers our ship."
Janton knew the rest. The men would have their highest libido during these periods, a total mismatch with their usual mates. They would have no innovations. No productivity. Only giant, pulsing, rigid erections that they would push into a beehive if it was the only hole around. That's how he would spend the next four years -- being a better alternative to a beehive.
Two weeks in, the recruits finally understood that the roles of hunted and hunter were not going to change. The three hunters now wore fur vests and pants, covering their faces to seem more menacing. The hunted wore only jock straps and collars, knowing anything else would be ripped from their bodies as soon as they turned their back. Trippy's lectures were off limits, all else was fair game.
A pop quiz appeared on the screen. "What Earth fruit is prized on Bengara for its sour taste and smooth peel." Janton reached forward to try to type in "lemon," but was pulled backwards. "You're going to type it for us first," a voice whispered in his ear. He was dragged to Canys' terminal and felt a body wrap itself around him. "Type in the answer, slut." the voice said. He typed and watched as the timer counted down and the question changed. His own terminal recorded zero after zero, as he gave the answers away to his superiors.
"Get one wrong and you won't sleep tonight." the voice in his ear asserted. Canys bit his neck and pulled Janton's nipples as far as they would go.
"This isn't fair," Janton yelled. "Let me finish my quiz!"
"Life isn't fair," Canys said. The question changed again. "What is the composition of Bengara's third moon?" the screen asked. This was important. Bengara's third moon was the human colony, the reward for four years of torture and the promise of a life after a broken earth.
But Janton had no idea. Canys was slowly strong Janton's five inch cock and rubbing his own giant dick up and down over Janton's needy hole. No matter how much Janton's mouth protested, his ass betrayed him.
"I can give you the answer and I'll even let you go back to your terminal to catch up" Canys offered. "But you have to give me your door code." Janton accepted immediately and completed his quiz with flying colors, dodging Trippy's punishment.
Then a pop up on the terminal. "Need to relieve stress? Free use slut in room 209. Code available for three credits. Unlimited use."
Three credits was the price of a noodle and kelp soup. Was that really all he was worth?
Janton took the long way back to his quarters after dinner. He sat on his couch and turned on the tv. The room door opened almost immediately. Another hunted. Janton didn't even know his name and he didn't introduce himself. In fact, he didn't speak at all. He walked in, pulled off his pants, and let nine inches of hot meat fall out of his pants. Hunted were only allowed to cum with permission of hunters and this counted as permission. Janton was just collateral damage.
He walked towards the couch and then walked up onto it, pushing his cock down Janton's throat without so much as a hello. He thrust in deep, ignoring the gags and whines. It was urgent that he cum. Two weeks had been far too long, the aphrodisiacs were wearing away at his sense of self. Cumming was all that mattered.
Janton realized that this was the real lesson. He was no longer a person. He was just a means to an end. The throat fucking continued, deeper and harder than before. He tried to catch up, tried to slow down the pace by grabbing the anonymous man's ass to assert control. But he was a man possessed. He grabbed Janton's hands and bent his arms back over the couch. He leaned in with all of his weight and pinned Janton's head to the pillow. In and out, in and out, making noises like a freight train denied a station for half a month. Janton thought he might choke and pass out before he finally felt the shot of warm aggression down his throat.
It was going to be a long four years.
