Milking Major Samson

CHARMING'S AUTHORS NOTE #1: This story is one that I wrote several months ago, but finished just recently. This story just kind of appeared in my head one night and over the last three months or so, I've been working on it off and on.

Milking Major Samson

An Erotic Tale

by CharmingCharles2896

They'd been working him over for the last six weeks, using all sorts of horrible forms of torture. He'd had his finger nails torn out. The knuckles in his fingers had been broken. They'd burned his skin, cut him, hit him, all of it for nothing. They'd tried sleep deprivation, starvation, drugs, all of it for naught. He'd resisted their torture and everyone knew at this point that he'd never talk. If he cracked, it meant the end of the resistance. If he cracked it would mean the death of millions of people, and the return of tyranny to his desolate world, one scarred by a twenty year long civil war that had left parts of the world in ruins. For those in the resistance, the aptly named Freedom and Justice Movement, they were the last bastion of freedom and democracy. All the others had been found, crushed, and enslaved under the rule of Lady Vindicta the Cruel.

Major Peter Samson wasn't going to doom the resistance to the evil of Lady Vindicta the Cruel. If that meant he had to suffer for the rest of his life, then so be it. Right now, he was strapped to a table in a dark room. His body was in a pretty serious amount of pain from the torture; but so far, they'd yet to do anything to him today. They'd woken him up early and tossed him into a truck, driving him God knows where. When they'd arrived, they'd gassed him with some kind of sleep gas. He'd woken up to a trio of women cutting his clothes off, hurting him if he so much as glanced at them. After that, they'd dragged him into this room and thrown him onto this cushy table. After strapping him to the cushy table, they'd closed the door behind them, the lights shutting off, leaving him alone in total darkness and an unsettling silence. That was what felt like hours ago; in the intervening time, he'd taken a moment to get a long nap in; knowing he'd need his strength for whatever they had planned for him next.

The sound of a large metal door being unlocked alerted him to the fact that it was showtime. His body was trembling as he heard the door swoosh open, bathing the dark room in light. Samson squinted his eyes, groaning from the pain he felt. The sound of heels click-clacking on the tile floor was followed shortly by the scent of orange blossom and jasmine, a woman's perfume. It had been over a decade since he'd smelt something as nice as perfume, the women of the FJM doing all they could to denounce the femininity that Lady Vindicta the Cruel used so expertly to subjugate the world. The women of the resistance, the few that there were, generally worked to ensure that the resistance didn't run out of people by getting out birthed by the Empire's reproduction farms.

Major Samson was one of the lucky ones, he was married. His wife Laura wasn't an overly feminine or attractive women, her having been one of the few women that the resistance had been able to deprogram after capturing her. The two of them having sworn themselves to a life of celibacy, rebuking the sin and lust that Vindicta had made her calling card. Children of the resistance were grown in labs and raised by the collective group. The resistance and its religious leaders insisted on the abandonment of all that could lead people down the path of sin that Lady Vindicta the Cruel used so expertly. This meant that there was marriage, but no forms of intimacy or sexual activity. There were families, but they were extremely pious ones.

The rumors about the treatment of men in the Empire were legendary. There were rumors of men being reduced to farm animals and treated like cows. There was talk that men were generally removed from the gene pool, only the best genes kept in jars in frozen facilities, removing the need for men in general. The talk of the camps was what scared most people. There were rumors of a massive extermination camp in central China, while rumors of a torture camp in the northern California region made all men shiver in fear. All of this hysteria was the product of a long war that had destroyed most of the planet.

Right now, the resistance was a largely subterranean movement, surviving due to the extensive use of underground bunkers. The surface generally belonged to the Empire. That being said, the surface was horrifically scared by the repeated use of fire bombs, napalm, and agent orange to clear rain forests in a search for resistance fighters. Entire continents were devoid of life, Africa having been essentially turned into glass by nuclear weapons. These days the Empire consisted of the North American west coast, Central and Southern Asia, as well as Eastern Europe. The rest was lost to the war.

"Enjoy your nap, Major Samson?" came the velvety smooth voice of a woman, pulling Samson out of his thoughts. This woman was different from the woman who'd been torturing him for the last week, this woman was significantly taller, with a silhouette that suggested a tall, curvaceous woman. As the lights in the room came on, Samson saw the skin tight uniform, made of an almost liquid-like material that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. This was in stark contrast to the almost unisex, cold war, red army-esc design of the uniforms for the women that tortured him.

The woman looked down at her uniform, which was mysteriously lacking any of the insignias and badges that carried Vindicta's visage or symbols. This woman, whose uniform carried the name Wagner, simply smiled at Samson. "I encourage you to enjoy my uniform and everything it shows off. I had all of Vindicta's symbols removed, so you'd be less reminded of your situation," she said softly as she stepped up to Samson's side and examined his broken fingers, still not set, still mangled and deformed. His body couldn't move, as if he was glued to the table.

"Hard to forget after your people pulled my fingernails out and broke all of my fingers, no offense," he added after finishing his thought. Wagner simply chuckled, taking no offense to his snide remark.

"I know, my compatriots can be a little too rough with your people from time to time, especially when you're refusing to break. Well... your will that is; they already broke all of your fingers." Samson had to fight the chuckle that Wagner's last remark elicited from him. It had been so long since he'd seen a woman like this Wagner that stood next to him. Resistance women almost dressed like the character Private Vasquez from the ancient film Aliens, made many years ago, before the war, before any of this happened.

Lady Vindicta used some form of brainwashing to take control of most of the world's women, using them to subtly enslave men. Of course, the plot was uncovered by a brave patriot, an American CIA Agent named Sarah Walker. Sadly, not long after Agent Walker revealed the plot to the press, exposing Lady Vindicta's ill intent, Agent Walker and her husband Charles Carmichael disappeared. Rumors had swirled for the years, but many boiled it down to two theories.

The first theory was that the plane was a trap and Lady Vindicta had kidnapped the two of them, likely castrating Carmichael and turning him into the feminized, brainless drones that her labor camps used for slave labor. According to the first theory, Agent Walker was likely stripped naked and forcibly gang raped by any number of the strap-on wielding women that Vindicta used in her military to fight against the resistance. Agent Walker's eventual death was likely a mercy for the poor women after the hundreds of hours of rape had left her body a broken, brutalized form.

The second theory was that Agent Walker had faked her death with her husband in order to disappear and start a family with him somewhere deep in the amazon rainforest. This second theory flew in the face of resistance doctrine and religion, but Major Samson chose to believe the second theory anyway. If his options were to believe that Agent Walker was raped and tortured to death, or she simply broke her vows and is out there living happily with her husband and potential children, it was an easy decision for Major Samson and many others in the resistance.

Snapping back to the moment, Samson refocused on Wagner, seeing her smiling at him. "Don't know where your mind just went, but try to stay away from there. Troubled and depressed isn't a good look on a cutey like you," she said with a wink. As she turned back towards the door, he could see how the snug fit of her uniform revealed the shape of her vulva and ass beneath the thin, skin-tight garment. This woman was so beautiful and he was becoming aware of her effect on him. "Enjoying the view I see," she began, having turned back towards him, only to see his eyes positively undressing her. Samson looked away, seemingly catching himself looking at her form. The women that worked at these camps were notoriously violent.

"Didn't I just say that you're encouraged to look at my body in this uniform?" she said, with faux annoyance in her voice. "I'm not going to hurt you if you look at me, I want you to look, I want you to enjoy this time with me," she said softly, closing the distance with him and leaning over him. She had truly massive tits, the kind of tits that made all men just jerk off furiously until they came everywhere. Wait, where had that thought come from? Major Samson was a pious man, loyal to the cause, sworn to resist the temptations of women.

"I love watching boys like you struggle to resist looking at my body, you all do eventually. No matter how much you tell yourself that you've sworn off women, that you've sworn off the pleasures of the flesh," she said as she leaned in closer, her chest against his bare arm, her mouth by his ear. "No matter how much you lie to yourself, you and every other boy like you secretly crave spraying your jizz everywhere." Her words were wrong, evil, but his body was reacting regardless. He felt his penis throb, coming to attention for the first time in years.

As he focused on his throbbing cock, now pulsating and dripping at the tip, he noticed that his table was moving. He looked around and noticed that he was in the hall now, being moved from the room he was in. In the hallway he could hear the sounds of countless men in the throes of sinful pleasure. This place that they'd taken him to wasn't a torture center, it was where they took men to break their vows!

"Figured it out yet?" she said as she wheeled him by one gorgeous woman after another; all of them clad in identical skin tight catsuits, their breasts swaying in the suits, their asses jiggling.

"You've taken me to Rosemont?" he asked, his heartbeat quickening. He'd heard rumors about this place, but he hadn't believed that it truly existed.

"We sure did, Cutey, hurting you wasn't working, so we're going to try a more... holistic approach." Her words sounded so nice, but the implication was terrifying. He had to resist, lest they defile him and doom him to an eternal afterlife in hell!

"I won't talk," he said petulantly, making her laugh.

"Oh, Sweetie, it isn't keeping yourself from talking that should be your main concern. No, you should be focused on keeping all of that masculine desire in those tender balls of yours." He looked up at her as she pushed him along, her massive breasts swaying in his vision, making his body feel things they shouldn't. They went through a set of double doors and down another long hallway. When they arrived at a door, the sign read one single phrase.

Restoration and Enhancement

After they'd entered the room, Samson saw the large device hanging from the ceiling. It looked like a giant laser, like the one in that old James Bond film; though this one had a distinct medical vibe to it. Wagner parked Samson under the device and locked the wheels in place. His body was still strapped to the table, so whatever was about to happen was something he couldn't stop. Wagner walked away from him, walking behind a wall and simply standing there. He heard beeping and typing, so he assumed she was preparing the device for use.

"Before we can move on, we need to fix all of the damage that those savages at Blackstone did to you. Just relax, this will only take a moment," she said as she hit a button and the room was bathed in deep red light. His body felt strange, but only for a brief moment. He screamed in horrible pain as his bones moved back into correct place and repaired themselves inside him. His cuts healed in a flash, the skin almost burning. When his fingernails reappeared on his fingers, he couldn't yell any longer, the pain having overwhelmed him. "Sorry about the lie." Once again, her words concerned him, though he paid them no further thought as the room was suddenly bathed in a deep green light. Moments later his screams would begin anew as Wagner prepared him for the future.

"When we're done here, the rest of your life will begin,"

~X~

When Samson awoke, his body felt strange... sensitive. He was in a strange chair, it had a back and a headrest, something that his head was bound to. The seat had arm rests, which his arms were bound to at the elbow and the wrist. The thing was, the seat was wedge shaped, with the narrow end at the front. His legs were spread wide, restrained to the floor with heavy shackles. He couldn't see anything, his eyes covered in what was essentially a sleep mask.

"Oh good, you're finally awake, Sleepyhead. Then again, after all the damage that we had to fix, I'm not super surprised that you were a bit tuckered out," she finished in a cutesy tone, almost mockingly so.

"How did you do that?" he asked groggily, his fingers back to normal, as if nothing had happened.

"What, the resistance doesn't have reatomizers?" she asked smugly. Samson merely shook his head no as he felt her hand on his bare flesh, her fingers tracing lines on his chest. "Lady Vindicta has bestowed a lot of gifts upon those that give themselves over to her fully." Her voice next to his ear, her warm breath on his ear, it made things inside him stir. "Oh good, your little friend has finally awoken, I was waiting for the little guy to wake up fully." As she spoke, he felt an immense weight between his legs, something large and heavy, swaying back and forth as he shifted in his seat. His legs couldn't move, his knees braced with a metal bar between them to lock him in place.

"Your little friend isn't very little, Sweetie, in fact maybe you should be introduced again," she said as fingers grabbed the knot behind his head and undid the blindfold. As the blindfold fell away, he closed his eyes to let his eyes adjust. "Sorry, Sweetie, I know it's bright, but we need to make sure that the cameras can see all of you." In a flash his heartrate spiked as he opened his eyes to find the camera, only to see something else.

"Surprise," she said with a giggle as his eyes flew open wide, Samson obviously seeing the big pillar of flesh where his penis used to be. What was once a fairly average penis was now around two feet long and as thick as a two-liter bottle. He screamed in terror, screamed and screamed and screamed, but nobody cared, nobody was listening.

When he stopped screaming, he heard her voice behind him. "Are you done being scared?" she asked in a little baby voice. "I assume you've noticed the... changes that I've made to your body," she said, not caring about his reply.

"How?" he asked, unable to look away, his head held in place.

"The reatomizer can do more than just fix wounds, Sweetie," she said her use of the pet name making his cock lurch and ooze clear fluid. "In this case, I've changed your body's physiology to allow you to sport this bad boy," she said as her fingernail traced a circle around his right nipple, making his uber dick ooze more sinful fluid.

"I changed your blood volume so you don't pass out when you get all excited like this. Though I should tell you that the changes make this erection basically permanent, not that you'll suffer any adverse effects from it. If anything you'll likely grow to love your massive perma-boner." Refocusing, the woman spoke again. "I obviously added tissue to your cock, don't want to hurt you after all. Oh, and I made one other change, but I'll save that one for later," she said with a giggle as his cock continued to lurch and ooze.

"This is wrong, I can't be doing this!" he mumbled as he closed his eyes, trying to stop his sinful actions.

"I'm sorry, Sweetie, but you don't have a lot of choice in the matter. Your body is different now, more sensitive, more receptive to sexual stimulus, more needy." As her husky voice whispered into his ear, he felt her fingernail quickly trace the side of his massive rod. It was a brief touch, but it sent his cock into overdrive, throbbing and pulsating like mad as he moaned. He watched his cock swing and flail around as the tip continued to trickle clear fluid.

"I know it feels good," she said matter-of-factly, like it was the simplest truth there ever was. He was moaning from the pleasure, his cock suddenly filled with need. "You see, Sweetie," she said as her hands grasped onto the crown of his cock, her palms cupping both sides of his slick cock head. "This big thing right here is my secret weapon; this is the key, the answer to all of our questions. That's for later though. Right now, we need to get you ready for the fun!" she said cheerfully, her hands leaving his cock, her presence subsequently receding into the background as his mind fixated on his cock. His cock was huge, hard as iron, aching, and leaking fluids all over. By now his cock was almost completely covered in his leaky juices, slick and shiny.

Out of nowhere a large metal machine was placed over his cock. A series of thirty-five rings, each about a centimeter thick, slid over his cock one by one until his cock was completely covered with them. The rings had a deeply knurled texture on the inside, touching his cock. He felt the rings size themselves perfectly, pressing the soft silicone inner rings into his slick length. The rings were all connected via two metal spines that extended from the bottom ring to the top ring that rested just below his corona. The machine was heavy, making his already heavy cock lean uncomfortably far to the right or left.

Paying his plight no mind, she attached a second machine to the top side spine of the first machine. This second machine was a series of arms, thirty-three of them to be exact. Each arm was shaped like the ribs of a human ribcage. Each arm was about a centimeter in thickness, containing seven tiny, silicone, brushes, the kind that spun like a buffer for a car. The arms pressed into the bare flesh between the rings, leaving only millimeters of space between the arms and the rings. The entire apparatus was large, imposing, heavy, and strangely enough, it adapted to the shape of his cock, expanding and contracting whenever his cock changed size.

Next was a third machine, this one attached to the spine on the bottom side of his cock. This device was a sort of cap that rested atop the head of his cock. The cap was made up of an elaborate array of curved metal bars that arched overtop of his head, all connected to a singular ring around his corona. The device had knurled, silicone textures all over the inside of it and had four larger brushes filing in the open space against the head of his cock. The only space not touched by the third device was the very tip, which was open to the air and still leaking everywhere. The entire thing was too heavy, making him whimper from the pain of his skin being pulled too far to the right.