Remote control units

As something different to do, David always enjoyed the Rag medicals; this was the third year he’d been restored on to ‘assist’. He ushered the guys in individually, wearing a full security droid, his face on the chest LED screen. The six-foot humanoid machines were titanium black, and no one fucked with them. They were silky smooth to drive and if required could pack a serious punch. None of the droids had ever been used to full riot control capacity. David thought it unlikely they ever would be, the Rags were typically a resigned, tired bunch.

One by one the workers were called in for their full annual examination. Doc in his medical droid, stood to the left allowing them space to enter. Pleasingly, the shower hair removal chemicals were having an impact, most of the guys had bare patches of smooth skin emerging. Any hair that remained seemed brittle, with any concentrated contact dissolving it to dust.

To his credit, Doc took time with each to discuss them losing every hair on their body. It turned out it wasn’t an issue; most had reconciled it as just another fucked-up thing the company was doing. It occurred to David that the majority had realised they weren’t leaving the mine any time soon.   

As each entered the room, they were guided to the vinyl covered examination bench. Over twenty minutes they were physically examined top to bottom. Apart from the odd bruise or scrape, all were in excellent and buffed condition. The hot climate, hard manual labour and high protein diet was turning them into lean, muscled bodybuilders. Only the collars and all over tans marked them as out of the ordinary.   

After samples of blood, urine and saliva were taken they were instructed to lay face down on the bench. As each complied their limbs were locked into shackles and the bed began hinging down at each end and rising in the centre. When the device stopped the rag found himself folded at the waist over the top of the raised padded surface. The final position allowed the doc perfect access to the rear of the scrotum through wide stretched legs.

Positioning himself carefully, Doc easily brushed the brittle hair away from the back of the exposed nut sack. While the rag whined in discomfort, the medico stretched the bare skin of the balls downwards until it was taut. With little regard to the mind warping ball crush taking place, Doc raised the inch square, metallic computer like chip. The individually coded transmitter was set as high up on the back of the bag as possible, secured in place with metal-to-skin super glue. The perma bond would last years, taking a few minutes to reach maximum strength. With its advanced tech, hair fine filaments on its skin side, would embed themselves into the nerve endings a few inches in all directions.

As the Doc stepped back to his notes, David took advantage of the glue curing delay. He gently worked the Rag’s cock to steel. Shifting uncomfortably under the exploitation, the restrained Hand could do little except curse his abuser, which most did. Doc would typically turn to look on with mild eagerness, but he never participated.

Even before this year’s medicals had started, David had decided he was going to take his planned sex play up a notch. With the Rag’s cock hard, he focused on the usually magnificent arse each unit now possessed. With a little lube he worked one of the droid’s finger-like digits into the hairless hole, it was a sensational sight. As the metal made its entry, the straight boy’s gateway protests increased in line with the growing pressure. Every one of the Rags thrashed around, but secured as they were, their efforts had little effect. David pressed deeper inwards causing the guy to squeal and curse further, he didn’t back off, but he came to rest. He then used the droid’s other hand to slowly pump a load out of the hapless servant, humiliating him and giving Doc his needed sperm sample.

When the bed had been returned to its normal resting place and the now angry worker freed. David quickly took the Rag’s head between the droid’s power-driven hand grips, he squeezed just enough to scare.

“You’re the only one who’s had special treatment,” he whispered, “tell anyone and I’ll come for you” he paused, “Understand?”

“Yes”.

“Yes what?” A little more pressure.

“Yes Sir, yes sir!”

“Very good. Now, if you want to jack off in the future, you’ll need to find me. Privately.” Every Rag looked at him as if he’d gone completely mad. He released and opened the door at the opposite end of the examination room. One by one they were returned to the dusty landscape.

* * *

A week after the medicals, almost every strand of Rag hair across the desert site had vanished. Two observations bubbled to the top in casual ‘water chiller’, Operator conversations. The first was how daily showers and lack of hair had cleaned up the Rags, the second was how muscled the desert crew actually were.

“I can’t believe how much the dust, grime and dirt camouflaged their development,” mused Jim in the Dark Crew’s club room. “They look totally fuckable.”

“Not an ounce of fat on them. I knew their diet was cardboard bland, but it’s fucking working.” Added Ted, with everyone agreeing.

“I been waiting for their hard-ons to become more noticeable but it all seems pretty same, same, to me.” Reflected Alex looking towards David’s avatar.

“It’s happening. We just can’t see it yet. I quietly checked the log of delivered collar shocks, shocks are up by more than twelve percent across the whole crew.”

“Is that a lot?” Asked Alex, “What does it mean?”

“Well” David continued, “it means they’re getting collar shocked, badly. It’s stopping their jack-offs before they start.”

“So, they’ll be getting more and more horny?” asked Stuart.

“It’s only been a week but the pressure will be building.” Informed David, all smiles. “I expect the little chat I had with each at medical will be bearing fruit shortly.”

“Can’t they just rip the chips off?” asked Tony.

“Nah, not without tearing open their balls,” replied David, calmly. “The transmitters will drop off naturally in three to four years but by then, they’ll be conditioned that self-relief is not a thing.”  

* * *

As David predicted, the situation in the Rag camp was one of increasing pressure. The scrotum chips were sensitive enough to easily monitor the groin’s natural electrical activity. The charge generated by a hard-on triggered detection mode. The act of hand to cock changed the body’s current flow, with the chip activating the neck collar. The shock pulse lasted as long as hand contact remained.

In the eight days since the medicals, all but a few Rag orgasms had been achieved. When Tennyson quietly checked the daily work logs, he saw a clear lift in productivity. The guys completed tasks slightly quicker and were definitely working longer. Per man, an extra twelve minutes a day didn’t seem like much but he was pretty sure this was only the start.

The doc was pleased there was a clear pre-med, post med production difference. He’d initially been reluctant to install the Dark Crews ball chips, but what choice did he have, money was money. Early indications now looked like he was going to be able to prove the hair stripping plan equaled improved efficiency. Turner Minerals wouldn’t back off if they saw increased profit, his contract for next year was sure to be renewed. Who knows, his dark friends may have more bright ideas?

* * *

As Tom lay in the dark of his Rag dorm room, he was as hard as a rock. It had been a long day on the end of a shovel and he was genuinely beat. If he could jack off, he knew he’d pass out immediately. Hand jobs though, had become a serious problem. Every time he touched his cock his head exploded in white hot pain, the electrical charge around his neck surged through every part of his body. What the fuck was he going to do? This was fucking serious, he contemplated he was really going to have to find the nut job driving the security droid, the one who had finger fucked him!

* * *

As Tom lay on his cot working out his next move, David coincidentally logged into the dorm’s camera network. Every room on the mine site was camera equipped so the devices went utterly unnoticed. His hack into the room’s camera remained undetected, its constant LED remained pale green.

David’s screen showed almost nothing, the image returned from the camera was essentially black. The room was dark, save the insignificant amount of light coming under the door. The microphone picked up all the expected sounds of a room full of grown men. He switched the camera’s mode to infrared. Instantly the image changed to eight clear heat signatures. One for each bed.

He silently rotated the camera from side to side. Five of the eight bodies were definitely sporting hard-ons. He smiled to himself and prepared to log off. As he reached for his mouse a loud crack penetrated the room’s silence followed by a bitten off curse. A collar had been activated, he logged out and reviewed the recorded footage.

Whichever rag occupied the bed in the room’s left most corner had tried his luck with a quick cock grab. The flash of electrical energy from the collar instantly appeared on the infrared feed. No release tonight mused David, he went to bed himself and pumped out a cupful thinking of the dorm.