Remote control units

“I have to say I’m pretty confident with the cock now,” bragged Ted. “I’ve jacked off with it five times.”

“Where?” Asked Stuart, as the rest of the Dark Crew sat around the gentlemen’s club listening.

“Mainly in the truck, using the cab’s robotic hand. I also used one of those inventory retrieval bots from the workshop, was just as good but I had to invent an excuse to take the bot to the truck’s cab.”

“And back again?” added David, as a question, Ted confirmed it was so.

“It really is just like hanging on to your cock for real. The fact its metal means nothing, the feeling transfer to the control pod dick sheath is amazing, enhanced even.” Contributed Alex.

“Well I’m think I’m going to start using mine to fuck next week” said Jim, cutting to the chase. “I know I’m getting a little ahead of the game, but fuck I’m horny to drill one of them.”

“Which rag?” asked one of the crew.

“The one they call Freddie, he’s mainly in the service workshop,” everyone nodded knowing of who he spoke.

“I think number tagging is going to make things easier,” said Stuart.

“Well, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves,” cautioned David, “we need to see how management respond to the suggestion. Tennyson will pitch it next week when he updates the board on the medicals.”

“He won’t have any problems, management are going to think he’s a genius,” predicted Ted, “it’s been three weeks, the Rags are so fucking tense they’re really pushing through their work rosters. That team digging out the west pipeline stayed an extra two hours, just to wear themselves out. Fucking hilarious, they’re hard all the time.”

“All the rags are!” declared Stuart.

“What are the other Drivers saying?” Asked David.

“All of them have noticed,” replied Ted, “but, I truly don’t think they care.”

“I hear the same thing.” Confirmed Alex. “I was in the Operations meeting at the start of the week, it was mentioned the Rags were stiff as boards and stressed. Beyond that no one said anything.”

“Most of the guys refuse to have anything to do with the Rags. They go out of their way to ignore them.” Added Jim.

“So, as we thought, no one is listening if the Rags complain?” asked David, pressing.

“I’ve been keeping an ear on who is complaining, and who to,” informed Alex, “they whine to each other, but I can’t find any Drivers or Operators who are listening.”

“Same for me” added Jim, with Stuart and Ted nodding in agreement.

“That’s a great outcome,” said David. “It gives us four each to fuck and a spare to share around.” He laughed out loud.

“Have any approached you yet?” Asked Ted, “you know, from the threats you made at the medical?”

“One or two have been trying to catch my attention,” said David, “but I think by next week their balls will be so full, they’ll do anything they’re told.”

“Including coming to each of us as their nominated ‘relief master’?” Quizzed Jim.

“That’s the plan, I’ll do it at the medical follow ups.”

“Do it soon, I want to fuck these guys, fuck them a lot.” Pleaded Tony.

*

“Gentlemen, that’s the update.” Finished Doctor Tennyson before the room of Turner directors.

“That’s quite impressive doctor” acknowledged Smithton as the Chair. “Who would have thought cleaning them of hair alone, would translate into a 12% man-hour productivity gain. The slight lift in ball pressure you flagged, doesn’t seem to have been so dramatic.” Tennyson had significantly down-played the testicular pressure the rags were enduring, as well as the real work rate increase. No point in overselling something already sold.

“You should stay the course Doctor,” suggested one of the other board members. “It matters naught that the Hands are a little friskier. It’s not as if they can flee camp and cause havoc.”

“Yes,” said another suit. “The fact they’re not constantly covered in grime is a huge improvement.”

“I’m pleased with the changes. It’s hard to recognise the crew as the same bedraggled group from a month ago,” said Doc. “Differentiating them though, now they’re hairless has become difficult, especially for the remote operational staff.”

“On that matter, Doctor” said Smithton. “We’ve spoken about your suggested naming plan. Is the substance safe?”

“Well,” replied the Doc, “it’s been in use for a long time. Mainly for decorative purposes, not really functional. The marks are not permanent, but they will remain for nine or so months, before gradually fading.”

“Well if there is little risk, go forward.” Directed the Chair.

“The team is in next week for their medical follow ups,” the Doc added. “I’ll fix it then.”

*

The medical follow-ups were almost cookie cutter appointments. As before, David, driving the titanium droid called them in. Each and every one of them sat on the examination bench with his cock pointing skyward.

The conversation typically went:

“Last month’s tests have come back fine, so no problems. We’ll see you next year”

“Doc, I’m fucking hard all the time. I haven’t blown since metal head,” nodding towards David, “jacked me off.”

“Careful,” cautioned the Doc, “he may be the only droid on site who can empty your balls. Maybe you should apologise?”

“Sorry, Sir”. David gave a slight head dip. “Doc. Can you turn off the collar, please?”

“Not going to happen, period! Management like it the way it is. It’s possible you guys won’t be cumming again, maybe ever.”

“Doc, please, is there anything we can do? I’m so fucking horny, I’m going crazy!”

At that point David reached down to gently caress the painfully stiff shaft before him, the Rag shuddered almost unloading on the spot. It was verging on pitiful.

“See, I’m fucking going mad. Please doc?” begged the rag.

“Can you think of anything Doc?” asked David withdrawing his grip to the horror of the boy.

“Well,” continued the medico after a painfully long break. He was actually having fun. “Management have asked if the hands would object to being marked. With no hair it’s been hard to work out who’s who on camera. Across the shoulders, with a marker like this.” He held up the oversized magic marker. “Stuff stays on for six months or so, before it has to be redone,”. Again, he paused.

“If I was to mark you, then step out of the room, while it dries, maybe you could come to an arrangement with David here?” The doc fell silent.

“You mean I get to cum?” Asked the Rag with hope.

“I don’t want to know arrangements. If I’m forced to find out, I’ll put a stop to it.” More silence, “so what now?”

“Do it” responded each rag before turning to present his back to the doc.

“Ok, your full name is Jeremy Dawson?” The rag nodded. The doc looked down his list. Across the boy’s shoulders in black numerals, six inches tall and two inches thick, Tennyson neatly drew #576, Dawson’s employee number. He then excused himself to the next room.

David instantly took the guy’s cock in a firm metallic grip. The boy sighed hopefully.

“You want to be able to empty your balls every month or so?”

“Once a month?” The guy grimaced. “Not more often?”

“Take it or leave it, the bosses want your balls full!” replied David evenly.

“I want it, I want it. What do I do?”

“You know Jim?” The boy nodded, “you find him when he’s alone on shift. You do every fucking thing he tells you without so much as blinking. You tell anyone, or complain and your cumming days are over. Understand?”

“Yes Sir, yes sir!”

“Good, not a word to doc.” The boy shook his head.

“Sir, can you, finish me? Please Sir!” Begged the rag.

“No, your owner is Jim.” The boy turned the phrase over in his head, “say it.” Commanded David.

“My owner is Jim.” David nodded his approval as the doc returned.

“Ok, did you work something out?” asked the doc.

“Umm, no,” answered the boy.

“Good. Well then, 576 we’ll see you next year,” said the doc as he opened the exit to the dusty outdoors. Jeremy looked confused as he exited, what had the doc said?

“Great work doc,” said David, as the door was closed, “You’re a natural.”

*

The Rags yet to see the doc, sat impassively in the medic waiting room. The separation of before and after meant that none saw their workmates marked, until they themselves had been inked. In truth, in the consultation the Hands were so focused on finding a way to relieve their ball pressure, they paid little attention to anything the doc said. They simply agreed to anything to get closer to relief.     

One by one the Rags exited into the bright sunshine and dusty earth. The sun’s UV rays instantly fused the ink’s chemicals into their skin’s top layer. The doc claimed six months to fade, in reality it was going to be a year, or more. Dark Crew predicted that by then it wouldn’t be an issue, just another normal management process, objectification in action.

That evening saw increased chatter in the Rag common rooms, used for dining and lounging. Those on active shifts were away, but the entire team had been numbered through the day. The Dark Crew lurked undetected in the background, logged into the camera network to see how the Rags were reacting.

The attitude was one of exasperation, ‘fucken numbers’! ‘Why not our names? Talk went back and forth but discussion was relatively muted. The team were clearly suffering massive distraction, none had managed relieve their ball pressure and frustration was obvious. The Dark crew found the video feeds hilarious, almost every rag in shot was hard, their cocks wobbled around like vertical reeds in the wind. All were being careful not to make contact with their meat, or that of their neighbours, none wanted to endure yet another shock. There’d been way too many mind-frying blasts already!

“Where else would you see so many guys sitting around constant hard-ons?” One of the Dark Crew mused, as they watched on. All were keen to see if any rag spoke of being assigned an ‘owner’. It was a pivotal moment. The idea had been to condition them to their new ‘status’, while the pressure in their nuts fucked with their brains. By turn-in time, it appeared the bait had been taken, not a single rag said a word. It was an encouraging sign as the grand plan entered its final stages.

The following work week was, for years revered in the Dark Crew as ‘days of gold’’. As frustrated as the Rags were, the city-based architects of the plan were equally eager to spill their seed. The situation had months of build-up. Time to act.