Remote control units

Final Chapter

The mine had a small timber yard and wood work shop. It was rarely used but kept in good condition for the occasional times when lumber was needed. The fact it was outside Master Control’s observation network, made it the ideal place for erotic play. The bot which was assigned to the area was an older less sophisticated model. Strange how the old units looked more humanoid compared to their more modern cousins.

Jim had logged directly into the yard’s bot after he had finished his normal shift. To the Downtown fourteenth-floor monitoring system, it looked like he was immersed in a video game, these were encouraged as a standard stress relief mechanism. Drivers sometimes spent hours playing, after logging out of their trucks. Jim had arrived at the yard, just before his assigned rag was due to arrive.

Blondie, now known as #299 came at a swift jog over the incline, which separated the main camp and the yard. He was carrying what looked like a red water flask which he had retrieved from truck forty-seven. By the time he arrived under the workshop’s iron roof he was sweating, short of breath and hard as a rock in anticipation.

“From now on,” started Jim, as the boy composed himself, “you jog two kilometres every second day. I don’t care if you do it before or after shift but you miss a run, we’ll add a week to our catch-up times.” The boy looked serious.

“Yes Sir, every second day, two kilometres,” he said, between his rapidly settling breaths “I can do more if you want.”

“No,” replied Jim quickly, “you already said you’re doing extra work every shift, I’m not interested in you being tired, but I want you fit. The real point is, being out of the lounge regularly, means you don’t have to make up random excuses for not being there.”

“Yes Sir.”

Jim had spoken with the lad two days ago while on the same shift, he’d begged for relief then, before Jim flatly refused for the benefit of Master Control’s recording. Out of monitoring range, he quietly slipped the boy instructions and today’s timber yard meeting with the water flask was the result. Jim could hardly wait as he reached across and took the container from his charge. He unclipped it and it fell in half revealing Jim’s portable gleaming metal cock. He carefully synced it to the timber yard bot and waited for a reboot.

“Get yourself arranged on the workbench,” directed Jim, pointing to the sturdy construct before him, “lay chest down, spread your legs over the side.” 299 looked troubled while Jim remained silent in expectation. As the guy positioned himself, Jim attached his cock shaft to the crutch of the droid. With the newer machines you could connect it anywhere including the end of a limb, not so with these ancient units.

As he applied lube to the perfect arse before him, he was glad to be driving an almost anatomically correct unit. He moved to 299’s hole and slowly made entry. The boy squirmed, but a robot arm either side of his hips gave him little room to shift. High pitched squeals emerged from the rag as Jim pressed forward. The driver wasn’t concerned, he owned the guy, he could do what he wanted.

When he detected the boy had adjusted as much as he was going to, Jim picked up the pace. He fucked with gusto; it was excellent fun. Over fifty minutes he enjoyed three rounds, each just that little rougher. Back in his suspension pod the dick sheath quickly sucked away his loads and rinsed his cock clean. Each time it left him ready to go quicker than he had ever experienced in real life.

As Jim recovered from the third-round pounding, he pushed himself clear and slowly dragged the boy to his feet. 299’s hairless balls were red from being squashed against the bench edge, but unharmed. Jim turned the rag and took a grip of the guy’s cock.

299 took a sharp breath in. Jim immediately took more care; the old droids didn’t have the sensitivity of the new ones. He worked the guy’s meat back and forth stopping twice to scare him that he wasn’t going to actually get a release. In the end the boy blew like a dairy queen dispenser, his cum supply seemed endless. Fifteen minutes later Jim jacked a second load from him. It had been a fantastic session, for both participants.

*

Rag by rag the Dark Crew worked through the ranks until by the end of the first week, all had been thoroughly fucked. To the on-site’s mine team’s endless relief, all finally had their balls free from the mind-numbing pressure, release denial had generated. The guilt among some was clear, they’d been fucked like whores and blown in the presence of men. Even though the men were dressed as robots, they were still men. It was gay shit, and they were trapped.

David detected such reluctance in 554, an overtly straight guy of around twenty-five. David made a point of seeking him out shift start and shift end. For the entire week the rag had his balls utterly emptied on every encounter. Just as suddenly the Dark Crew Leader stopped the releases. Within a fortnight 554 was seeking David out, each time he had his pleas denied. Six weeks later 554 was completely beside himself, in desperation he agreed to anything his master wanted. David booked him in for the whole of his day off and told him to sneak into the disused office behind the water reclaim plant. The room was off grid but could be accessed by the four rarely activated reclaim bots.

The bypass routine David had installed showed the four dog sized, spider like repair units, sitting on their shelves as usual. In reality the machines were activated and busy. One of them had its tool clutch locked solidly around 554’s nut sack, the guy wasn’t being hurt, but he wasn’t going anywhere soon. He was sprawled out across the room’s two desks which had been pushed together, leaving a three inch gap. Unit One rested below the narrow space and held the guy’s balls tightly. David had logged into the unit, secured the day’s bounty and logged out, leaving it as a forty-kilo dead weight. 554 couldn’t get to the machine, his nuts or his meat. He was in place for as long as his master desired.

At seven in the morning Ted and Alex joined David. Units Two, Three and Four came to life and set about fucking 554. Alex immediately sought a deep throat head job with David and Ted tossing for arse. They used the rag through three, hour long sessions. Viagra fuelled, they were relentless.

On the occasions where 554 showed resistance David pumped a volt laden charge through his hapless nuts. He let the robots have their sick fun. At eleven in the morning Jim, Stuart and Tony replaced the first three dark crew. They fucked the guy for another two hours, and taking advantage of his now loose arse, double penetrated the whore.

In the end Tony hung back and released the rag from Unit One’s nut bond. He then set about unloading the guy’s balls. 554 was a fucked over mess, but he was still desperate to blow. Tony granted his wish through three ‘pump to release’ routines, he was careful to direct the guy’s seed spray to one of the desks. When 554 had recovered from his final blow, Tony made him lick the entire desk top clean. He was mortified but wasn’t given the choice.

While 554 was sore and sorry for the first half of his new week, the drivers refused to give a fuck. He was just a hole.

*

The party continued for years. The on-site mine team were never visited by outsiders. Their supposed confidant in the doctor, was on the dark side payroll and none of the non-dark side truck operators were prepared to engage them in any meaningful conversation.

Whenever the Board did take the time to review the on-site group, all they saw was a perpetually clean crew, who just happened to be hairless and strangely aroused. The men were fit, muscled and despite the collars, the nudity and the constant hard-ons, all seemed completely in order. The most important factor was production was always on target.

The dark crew had established a flawless fuck-toy ecosystem. Body wise, the holes were in constant peak condition, relentless hard work and protein rich diets saw to that. The one or two new ‘on-site’ team members who started each year were quickly educated into line by the old Hands and the Dark Crew systems. Without variance within the year they became constantly horny, mind numbed holes, desperate to be fucked to gain rare ball relief.

Perfect. Well, maybe it could be better by two?

The End.

Thanks for taking an interest. I appreciate you letting me know what you think via email, or in the comments below. Stay hard. Luke