The Extraction Facility

The ceiling above is a criss-cross of red and black tiles forming wavy patterns. Spots of light dance across those tiles, receding as Cero's consciousness focuses. Was he hit in the head? Part of his mind, separate from the panic rising in his chest, wonders where he is. The last thing he remembers is running through the ruined city that is his home, knowing his pursuers are close even though he can't catch sight of them. Then...

It comes back to him, and Cero tries in vain to rise. Only then does he become aware of the steel collar round his neck, bolting him to the bed he lies on. He looks down the length of his body, and his mouth goes dry. Steel cuffs secure his wrists and ankles to a gleaming mechanical bed. Lights blink on sensors arrayed around him. On the left side of the bed overhangs what looks to be a curved touch screen showing his heartbeat, his respiration, more readings he can't make out. And, he notices with creeping terror, an ominous counter that reads "0 mL."

He knows where he is. The government finally caught him, like the old people warned would happen if he let himself be seen outdoors. He's in the Facility.

"Finally awake?" A woman's face comes into view, smirking down at him. Blonde locks tumble round her cheeks; a touch of evil lurks in her eyes. Twisting, he can make out the upper half of her body, a delicious swirl of curves wrapped in dark blue latex that accentuates rather than hides everything a man would want to see. The woman runs a finger along his inner thigh with a satisfied sigh. "You kept me waiting long enough. We're wasting the day, and we have a quota to meet."

"Please," Cero begins, unsure how to finish the sentence. Pleading won't do any good here. He's heard enough about this place to know there is no mercy at the Facility.

"Mm, I like begging," she purrs, and strokes his cheek. "My name is Mistress Kayla. You've been assigned to me as my new milch. Do I need to explain to you what that means?" She must take his silence for a yes. "It means we've brought you here to do your part to save the human race. You men are a hot commodity nowadays. Over ninety-nine point nine percent wiped out thirty years ago, so few born since--not enough to go around in civilized society--and who knows how few left wandering in odd places where law and order is a thing of the past. You were in the ruins of Chicago, weren't you? I hear that's where our team took you."

In his mind's eye Caro sees four women standing over him, dressed in matching grey and black uniforms tailored to blend in to urban environs. They chased him across a dozen blocks of old Chicago, working in tandem to herd him toward the center of an ever tightening circle. Far as Cero knows the others in his gang all escaped; he's the gazelle the lions separated from the herd. Crouched on the floor of a derelict convenience store with a sharp sting throbbing in his neck, he knows the hunt is over. One of the women holds a black polymer pistol, still pointed at him. Cero sees himself in that scene now as if floating above, watches himself scrabble toward the coolers with legs that suddenly feel a hundred pounds each. He sees the four women spread out to approach him from different angles so he can't bolt away, professionals finishing up a job. Before they even reach him his eyelids fall with the force of landslides, and he loses consciousness. To awaken here.

Cero strains at his restraints, willing his wrists to slip free of the cuffs. His chest puffs up to his chin, his teeth grind, he can almost feel an artery bulge in his neck. Nothing. The cuffs seem to be fitted into the bed, magnetically sealed if he had his guess. He couldn't break out of here if he'd spent every waking moment in the gym.

Mistress Kayla watches with a smug smile on her full lips. "None of that, now. You're going to need your strength." She waltzes around to the touchscreen on the other side of the bed. "Now, let's familiarize you with what this facility does. Let's see if you can be a good boy for me."

She keys in a sequence; a robotic appendage rises readily between Cero's outspread legs. Its central feature is a long, flexible tube, moved by a series of interlocking metal joints. The tube runs out of Cero's sight beneath the table, but he knows from stories it goes to a collection tank. At the near end of the tube is a clear chamber lined in a soft textured material, a pair of artificial labia marking the opening. Cero has heard of this device, the Facility's chief tool of trade--the extraction machine.

"Just one more thing before we begin," says Mistress Kayla. She takes a syringe from a nearby table and cleans a spot on Cero's leg with an alcohol wipe. "Just a little poke. You'll feel this kick in right away. It'll make you feel so much better. Just relax."

The needle is in and out before Cero can try to fight. His mind races, wondering what she just pumped into him. Something to make him more docile? Is he about to pass out again? But no--he feels warmth spreading through his body, a kind of pleasant flush like that first buzz off alcohol before you get drunk that makes his toes and fingers tingle. That sensation concentrates around his hips, then his groin, circling round its target as it were. Finally it strikes full force in his cock, which rises traitorously of its own accord to its full girth in moments.

Mistress Kayla purrs her approval, runs a finger along the underside of his shaft and rubs circles across his glans. Cero feels his cock jump under her touch, and can do nothing to stop it. "Excellent. Now we can begin."

The extractor descends and pauses with its silicon labia hovering a breath from Cero's glans. Warm lube trickles from the extractor, dripping down his shaft and balls. Mistress Kayla adjusts some settings on the touch screen and winks at him from her station. "I know you've done this with your hand before. There's not a boy who's ever come here that didn't. But have you ever done it with someone else? You are a young thing."

"Yes," Cero admits, "a couple times."

"Still inexperienced though, aren't you?" She changes another setting. "This will be just a bit more intense than that, at first. This is your first time, I want to break you in easy. You can't play with a busted toy." She bites her lip, and makes sure he sees her do it. "Then we'll turn the machine up more after you get used to the low setting, and what you've had won't compare at all." She blows him a kiss, and the extractor whirs back to life.

The machine engulfs every inch of his shaft in one slow, slick descent of its arm. His first thought is he didn't expect it to be so warm, like a real cunt. The texture lining the extractor's insides touches his cock in a thousand places at once, like the nubs of uncountable tongues flicking at his flesh. And it grips him tight--so tight that when the extractor lets him slide free of those artificial labia there's an audible pop that hangs in the air till the squish when his cock slides back in. For a minute it goes on like that, the machine slowly stroking him and letting him pop free for a moment before devouring him again. A familiar feeling rises in Cero, and he throws every ounce of will in his body at stamping that feeling down. No. No surrender.

Then on one pump the machine doesn't let him pop free. Instead it doubles down, becomes a steady stroke up and down his shaft that keeps his glans in that fist-tight grip the whole time. The suction draws him farther in, makes the textured grip even tighter. So much warm, slick pressure focuses on the head of his cock. The machine's grip is inescapable, incessant. Cero's toes curl, but he fights back the urge to cum.

"Don't fight it. You're just wasting your strength." Mistress Kayla comes around to stroke his hair as the machine pumps away in mathematically perfect time. Every stroke is the same intensity, same length, building sensations in his most sensitive nerves without relief. "There's no fighting this. The machine always wins. Always. Relax and save your energy. You still have the whole day ahead of you, and we're not stopping till that cup is full."

Cero's emotions fight a battle royale, each trying to claw its way to the front of his mind. Existential horror and biological need; the loss of his freedom, his excitement for what this machine can do. His mind focuses to a single point of pure sensation, all centered on his cock, throbbing in time with each stroke. He can feel the vein along the underside of his shaft pulsing. His eyes fall on the woman making his happen, in her skin tight blue latex and blonde curls. She notices his staring and follows his eyes down her figure.

"Would you like to look at these? Would that help? I see you staring, my toy." Smiling deviously, she pulls free her impressive breasts. The latex crinkles as those glorious orbs of lust made flesh emerge to hang free. Her nipples stand at attention like ready soldiers, taunting him. "If you're a good boy I'll let you taste them. All you have to do is cum for me. Empty your balls into the extractor. You want to be a good boy so you can suck my tits, don't you?"

In horror he realizes part of him does indeed want to be a good boy for her. Whether that's a side effect the shot she gave him or some hidden part of his sexuality he's never confronted before, Cero couldn't tell you. But as the extractor begins to speed up--and tighten somehow, which seems impossible--that part of him beats back the swirl of emotions battling in his mind. She's right--this is only a matter of time. Already he's curling his toes and fingers, gritting his teeth just to hold back. The machine hasn't been at him for more than five minutes. How is he going to withstand this all day?

"Cum for me," Mistress Kayla whispers in his ear. "I know you're going to be such a good boy for me once we have you trained." She grabs both sides of his head, bends over so her glorious breasts hang just out of tongue's reach above his face. "That's my cum in those balls. I want it. Surrender it to me. It's hardest the first time, my toy. Let it happen. It's going to feel so good, I promise." She pulls back so she can look him in the eyes. "And then we're going to do it again. And again, and again. We're going to milk that cock until I decide we have enough for today. And then we're going to do it all again tomorrow."

Every story Cero has heard about the Facility assures him this is true. Once you go to the Facility, your old life is over. Men rarely leave the Facility alive. No man lives in the Facility without being drained daily. He doubted the stories sometimes, despite the testimony of the rare men who lived them and escaped. Cero met such a man once, and everything he said lines up with what's happening to Cero now. But Cero never understood the look in the man's eyes when he spoke of the extractor until now. That look was wistful, almost smiling. The man had missed this.

Now Cero understands why. He can't resist. It just feels too goddamn good.

He begins to yell as the first orgasm rips out of his body. That yell echoes off the walls of his cell, his new home. His cock thrusts wildly in the machine's grip. Sensing its victim has at last relented, a powerful suction effect starts up in the tube. Every last drop of cum slides from the extractor up that tube and down to the collection cup below. Cero's skin tingles with icy fire. It feels like two tight hands are jerking up and down his shaft, squeezing out the last trace amounts of the evidence of his utter helplessness. He jerks in his restraints, getting nowhere. His cock has never been this sensitive in his life.

And the machine isn't stopping. Somehow it knows Cero's orgasm is spent, and resumes the pattern of tight, steady strokes that got him there in the first place. "Please can I rest a minute," he pleads, tears in his eyes as he looks to Mistress Kayla. "Just a minute. Please, I can't--it's so sensitive, I don't--"

"Such a good boy," Mistress Kayla says from the controls. "That's what Mistress wants. Give it all to me, just like that. Not that you ever had a choice in the matter." Grinning again, she adjusts a setting, and the pace of the extractor increases.

Cero moans and gives a feeble try at his cuffs.

Mistress Kayla comes back around to the front of the bed. "Now that we've broken you in, let's see how long it takes to get the next one. With you sleeping in we really need to make up for lost time, my toy."

"Your toy," Cero moans as the machine pumps and swirls around him.

"My toy," she assures him, and presses her breasts against his face. "Don't fight the ways Mistress plays with you. That's the first rule."

After a moment's hesitation, Cero gives in to the need consuming him and takes her nipple in his mouth. The extractor pumps on incessantly, mercilessly. Cero buries himself in his new Mistress' breasts and surrenders to this new reality.

"That's right," she coos as he begins to suck and lick. "Just remember, I'll always win. With or without the machine."

Soon enough, for the second time in ten minutes, Cero "loses" their game. As he groans and shudders through his post-coital wringing, somehow he doesn't mind as much this time.

The machine speeds up again.