Chapter 4: Arrival at the Facility
The van finally slowed to a halt after what felt like an eternity of jolting turns and muffled engine hums, the vibrations only serving to heighten the unwelcome arousal coursing through the athletes’ bodies. Jake’s thick cock strained painfully against his jeans, his balls aching with that unnatural fullness, as if every bump in the road had been designed to tease him further. He could hear the others shifting restlessly, their breaths ragged in the confined space, each one grappling with the same bewildering betrayal of their flesh. Ryan’s long shaft throbbed insistently in his chinos, a damp spot forming where pre-cum leaked despite his furious denial. Tyler’s meaty length tented his shorts obscenely, his nuts feeling swollen and heavy, ready to spill at the slightest provocation. Alex’s curving cock pressed against his thigh, the fullness in his balls making him squirm, while Brad’s massive horse-like endowment pushed at his basketball shorts, the ache in his sac bordering on exquisite torment. Straight men, all of them, reduced to this: bound, aroused, and utterly confused.
The rear doors swung open with a hydraulic hiss, flooding the compartment with cool, sterile air that carried a faint metallic tang. Victor, the burly assistant, loomed in the doorway, his muscular frame silhouetted against the dim lights of what appeared to be an underground garage. He moved with efficient precision, unclipping the restraints one by one, his large hands brushing against their bodies in ways that sent unwanted shivers through them. “On your feet,” he grunted, his voice deep and commanding. Jake staggered up first, his legs shaky from the drugs and the persistent erection that made every step a reminder of his vulnerability. The others followed, rubbing their wrists, their impressive physiques on display even in their rumpled clothes—sweat-slicked muscles flexing, bulges impossible to ignore.
They were herded through a reinforced door into a corridor lined with smooth white walls and humming fluorescent lights, the floor cold under their shoes. The air grew cooler, almost clinical, as they descended a short ramp into a vast chamber that opened up like a hidden lair. It was underground, that much was clear from the lack of windows and the faint vibration of earth above. The room was sterile, dominated by rows of examination tables equipped with straps and mysterious apparatuses, screens flickering with data, and in the corners, sleek machines that hummed softly, their purposes ominously unclear. Pipes and tubes snaked along the walls, leading to collection vials and monitors. The athletes’ eyes widened, their arousals momentarily forgotten in the face of this bizarre setup, but the injections kept the heat simmering, cocks still half-hard, balls still full and tender.
At the centre stood Dr Harlan, a man in his late forties with sharp features, wire-rimmed glasses, and a lab coat that hung over a trim build. His hair was greying at the temples, and his eyes held a predatory gleam as he watched them enter. A sinister grin spread across his face, revealing straight white teeth. “Welcome, gentlemen,” he said, his voice smooth and cultured, with a hint of amusement. “I trust the journey wasn’t too uncomfortable? Though from the looks of things…” His gaze dropped pointedly to their crotches, where the outlines of their erections lingered, making Jake flush with rage and humiliation. “The enhancements are working splendidly.”
Ryan stepped forward, his lean body coiled like a spring, green eyes blazing. “What the fuck is this place? Let us go, you psycho!” But Victor placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, squeezing just enough to make Ryan wince, the touch sending an unwelcome spark down to his still-throbbing cock. Harlan chuckled, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, no need for theatrics. You’re in the Harvest Facility, a private enterprise dedicated to… extraction. You see, you five are exceptional specimens—peak physical condition, virile, potent. Your semen is a commodity, gentlemen. Elite genetic material for a very exclusive market. And we’re going to harvest it. Over and over again.”
The words hung in the air, incredulity rippling through the group. Tyler balled his fists, his barrel chest heaving, the tank top clinging to his sweat-dampened skin. “You’re insane. This is kidnapping. People will look for us.” His thick cock twitched in his shorts, the fullness in his balls making his threat sound less convincing, more desperate. Harlan’s grin widened. “They might, but they’ll find nothing. You’re off the grid now. And as for the process… well, let’s get you prepared. Victor, if you would.”
With a nod, Victor and two other handlers—burly men in black uniforms, their muscles bulging under tight shirts—moved in. The athletes resisted, but the lingering effects of the drugs and the sheer surprise left them overpowered. Jake swung a punch, his quarterback arm flexing impressively, but Victor dodged and countered with a precise jab to his solar plexus, winding him. Ryan tried to slip away, his swimmer’s agility almost succeeding, but a handler grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back. Tyler charged like a bull, his powerful frame colliding with one man, but the others piled on, pinning him down. Alex darted, his track speed a blur, but a taser prod hummed to life, stopping him short with a warning buzz. Brad, the giant, roared and lifted one handler off the ground, his massive arms straining, but a quick injection to his neck from Harlan himself made his knees buckle, the world spinning as fresh arousal flooded him.
One by one, they were stripped partially unclothed, clothes torn away with clinical efficiency. Shirts were ripped off, revealing their incredible torsos: Jake’s broad, slab-like chest heaving, nipples hardening in the cool air; Ryan’s lean, sculpted pecs and abs glistening; Tyler’s barrel form, every muscle defined and quivering; Alex’s lithe, toned body, abs etching sharp lines; Brad’s towering frame, ladder abs leading down to his V-cut. Jeans and shorts were yanked down to their ankles, boxers or briefs exposed, but not removed yet, the handlers pausing to admire the impressive bulges beneath. Jake’s thick cock strained against his boxers, the outline clear and veiny, balls full and hanging heavy. “Get off me!” he snarled, but his body betrayed him, pre-cum soaking through the fabric.
They were manoeuvred onto the examination tables, strapped down spread-eagled, their partially naked bodies on full display under the bright lights. The tables were angled slightly, allowing them a view of each other, heightening the humiliation. Harlan approached Jake first, his fingers trailing lightly over the quarterback’s abs, making the muscles jump. “Such potential,” he murmured, his hand dipping lower to cup Jake’s bulge through the boxers, squeezing gently. Jake gasped, his cock jumping, balls aching with that injected fullness. “Why… why does it feel like this?” Harlan smiled. “The serum boosts production, arousal, everything. You’ll produce more semen than you ever thought possible. And we’ll extract it all.”
Moving to Ryan, Harlan traced the swimmer’s V-line, fingers brushing the waistband of his briefs, where his long cock throbbed visibly. “Lean, efficient—your yields will be consistent, relentless.” Ryan bucked, but the straps held, his balls feeling swollen, ready to burst. Tyler growled as Harlan squeezed his meaty package through his briefs, the thickness evident. “A powerhouse. We’ll milk you dry, over and over.” Alex whimpered as his curving shaft was teased, the fullness in his nuts unbearable. “Please… this isn’t right.” Brad, the last, had his enormous length outlined by Harlan’s hand, the horse cock pulsing, balls heavy with promise. “Magnificent. Your contributions will be legendary.”
The doctor stepped back, addressing them all. “The programme is simple: daily milkings, enhancements to maximise output. Machines, assistants—whatever it takes. You’ll resist at first, but soon… you’ll crave it.” His sinister grin returned, eyes lingering on their exposed bodies, the erotic tension thick in the air. The athletes exchanged horrified glances, their straight minds reeling, but their cocks stirred anew, balls fuller than ever, the harvest about to begin in earnest.
Victor activated a console, and the machines whirred to life nearby, tubes and sleeves gleaming under the lights. Jake felt a fresh wave of arousal, his thick shaft leaking more pre-cum, the straps digging into his wrists as he strained. Ryan’s lean form arched, his erection tenting his briefs dramatically. Tyler’s meaty cock throbbed, nuts churning. Alex’s curving length pulsed, the ache intensifying. Brad’s massive endowment swelled further, the fabric straining. Disoriented, partially unclothed, and aroused beyond reason, they lay there, prime for the taking, the underground lair echoing with the promise of endless extractions. Harlan watched, satisfied. “Rest now. Tomorrow, we begin.” But even as he spoke, the handlers moved in with clippers and oils, preparing to strip them fully, the erotic ordeal unfolding step by humiliating step.
