Terran Space Marines—Captured and Mind Controlled!
Episode One, in which our hunky Marines are turned into cum slaves.
© 2006—maslyfe@usa.net
Imagine a well-drawn, sexy cartoon... you know the style that turns you on... let your mind do the drawing.
TITLE PANEL:
The depths of Space... star clusters, great colorful gas clouds... a space ship in the vast darkness.
It’s the 23rd Century. The NeoTerran Empire has spread its tentacles far and wide, mostly through the hard slogging toughness of the famed Terran Space Marines, recruited from the dozen worlds inhabited by the genetically enhanced space spawn of humanity that constitutes the Empire. You know what they’re like... those hard young mezomorph bodies; you can see them in your mind’s eye: handsome faces, high ‘n’ tight buzz cuts, broad shoulders, bulging muscles... eyes shining with grit and determination. They go where the Empire sends them and ask no questions. The Corp is their home, their parents, their lovers. The Corp takes care of its own. The Corp is always right and they are its muscle.
But, sometimes, in the vicissitudes of war, outposts must be abandoned... isolated units are left behind, to fend for themselves. TSM Lt. Jock Studz and his squad of hunky TSMs couldn’t get off one such world, a desert mining colony known as Ophuk. The dozen muscled Terrans, their hairless bodies permanently tattooed in a camouflage design that changes colors to match their environment, have been taken prisoner and half, with Lt. Studz, have been transferred to a Zalerian Ore Freighter to be transshipped to the dread Mines of Zal, where they will be forced to labor for their alien masters. It’s that ship that lumbers across the cosmos. Some time has passed since their capture and the first frame opens.
FIRST PANEL:
The Com Deck of the Zalerian Freighter:
Looks a bit like an early StarTrek command deck. Vid screens, computer terminals, severe colors. The Lt is securely bound, bent over an A-frame in the middle of the area, his manly bubble butt exposed to a large, green, shirtless, hirsute Zalerian who is leering at him, fingering him a bit, preparing him for the inevitable fate of hunky TSM prisoners... as an explosion rips into the ship!
“Captain, the Fey Pirates of Pinzatz are attacking!” shouts a crewman.
The Captain looks annoyed. “Not them again... Man the weapons!”
SECOND PANEL:
The pirates have over-powered the Zalerians, with their superior weaponry and sardonic pirateness. The pirates are lithe, blond humans, sporting dreadlocks and skimpy clothes that look like various skins loosely stitched together into standard pirate-type garb (perhaps these are the skins of their victims...). Bandanas, laser cutlasses, wild eyes... etc. Just like pirates of the Seven Seas of Old Terra, but in the depths of space. You can imagine their wildness, their limp-wristed deviousness.
The Pirate Captain, Kip, is lisping at the Freighter Captain while the Lt remains helplessly bound, his gluts a changing design of camouflage, created by the nanotech tattoo process that he painfully underwent as part of his initiation into the FSM a few years earlier.
Captain Kip, pointing a bejeweled finger at the Zalerian, “So, ve meet again, Caspan! Again, I sake vhatever I vant from you and you can do nothing to stop me! Be tanksul tat I am mercisul and shall let you live to be my prey again. Vat do you have bound here?”
The butch Zalerian, gritting his teeth in anger at the linguistic butchery of the fey pirate, responds, “A certified Space Marine... worth quite a bit. I have been prepping him for pleasure. More of his squad is below, in stasis. We are peaceful traders... take them and leave us alone!”
Studz, turning his handsome head and opening his blue eyes hopefully, “For humanity’s sake, save us from these alien monstrosities!”
FLASHBACK: THIRD PANEL
Imagine a panel of vignettes: A young-studly-blue-eyed-blond-buzz-cut Jock getting ready to play high school football on a world that’s not quite Earth...
Jock and his genetically perfect buddies talking to a TMS recruiter...
Basic training: hot bods working out... laser rifle practice...
Jock and a couple recruits, gritting their teeth, getting their body tattoos...
Jock and a couple of his hunky squad mates, getting drunk on bootleg booze and jerking off together...
Nearly naked Space Marines: camouflage tats, boots, belts, backpacks—trudging up a gangplank onto a TMS space ship.
FOURTH PANEL:
Pirate Kip is leaning over the now half-bound Marine, obviously admiring what he sees, resting a fey hand on the hunky Lt, “Have no fear soldier! your ‘rescue’ has arrived! How did you come to be here and where did you get that nifty body tattoo?”
Studz responds, not noticing that the pirate is no longer lisping: “Sir, Lt. Jock Studz, Terran Space Marines! I’ve been separated from my detachment, Sir! Six of us are prisoners here; another half dozen left back. We were sent to the planet Ophuk as guards for the all male mining colony there. I need to get back to the rest of my men!”
“I’ve heard rumors of that world... what was it... oh, yes, natural Amotryp... supposed to be an aphrodisiac... Is that so, Lt?”
“I’m afraid it is, Sir! Every man there sports a hard one, dripping precum, all the time! And it’s completely soaked through our bodies... something to do with our nano-tats.”
“Oh, I see. Hmmm. Do you know the location of Ophuk?”
“Yes Sir!” “Good, maybe we can head in that direction. But you’ll have to earn your keep while aboard my ship. Yes?”
“Sir, I’d do anything to get back to the rest of my men!”
In an insertion on the right side of the frame: Kip is looking askance, thinking, “Beautiful but dumb Marine... really thinks I’m rescuing them! A dozen testosterone soaked hunks like him... hmmm...”
FIFTH PANEL:
Insertion on the left side of the frame: Studz and Kip entering the ship, with its hanging chandeliers and gaudy drapes the interior looks like a cheap whorehouse. Hands bound behind his back and blindfolded, the hunky Marine is led by the pirate (he has a hand on the Marine’s muscled butt cheek and he’s speaking close to the Lt’s ear).
Kip, “Now, we do have to keep you bound and blindfolded since we can’t let anyone but sworn buccaneers free on our ship... but I have a way you and your men can earn your keep until we get you back to your the rest of your unit.”
Main frame: Studz is bound and suspended on a “5 point” rack—wrists, ankles, head, while his erection is attached to a pump tube. His awesome body is fully displayed and the pirate is gazing at the eye-candy spread before him. He has a ball-bit in his mouth and some wired contraption around his head, covering ears and eyes.
Kip: “Some call us ‘Cum Pirates’ since we drain our “guests” and sell their sperm on the black market... Did you know Terran man cream is an aphrodisiac to some species... and good nutrition too? But relax, Lt, you will enjoy this, as we will stimulate you to continual orgasm! Oh my, your Amotryp soaked body does seem to be responding very well! You are so huge! Yes, I do think we must raid Ophuk! Now just relax and let the mind control helmet do its work. Yes, you will enjoy your manly labors for the Pirates of Pinzatz! The more you cum the more you’ll want to cum.”
SIXTH PANEL:
Another sexy, full frontal image of the Lt focusing on his huge erection: interesting camouflage design all across his tensed and sweaty body, still racked, still cuming, with a combination of ecstasy and resistance on his face. He’s alone. He is both helpless and oh so enticing. If you were standing there, say, if you were one of the pirates, you just couldn’t keep you hands off him. You would need to touch and stroke him, lick the manly perspiration from his hard six-pack belly. Yes, and the testosterone charged fluid just leaking a bit from the pump over his engorged erection and down along the curve of his manly testicles, hanging there, just for you.
And in Studz head, “Must resist... Pirate mind control... Must rescue my men... Must resist...”
SEVENTH PANEL:
The Lt, still racked, side view, erection still pumping sperm. Kip is there, hand on the Marine’s muscled chest. Mind control helmet off, his eyes are opened, staring blankly. The Captain is gazing at him, longingly.
“I am astonished at the amount of cum that we’ve pumped from your manly member. You are an awesome specimen. Love the way you look and smell. Worth your weight in cum! I’ve tasted some... very stimulating. We’re nearing Ophuk now, so I hope you are not yet too mind numb to act as our decoy... The others who were with you are doing quite well too. You Space Marines have been very nicely pre-conditioned by the Corp. Amazingly so. You all want to be such good soldiers, obeying whomever is in charge. And our whole ship is beginning to smell of the most alluring TSM testosterone due to air re-circulation. I must say, it is distracting my crew... in a pleasant way, of course.”
EIGHTH PANEL:
Back on Ophuk—the pirate ship is set down on this hard scrabble desert world. In the distance is an entrance to the mines. The Lt is waving to his camouflage tattooed men who are all hauling ore carts, muscles bulging, cocks stiff and dripping.
He calls out, “We’ve come to rescue you! Get here on the double before the alien conquerors find out! The Corp has abandoned this world!”
Kip is whispering in his ear during this, telling him what to say.
The Lt shouts, “Haul those carts here, and bring as many of those human workers with you as you can, we have just a few minutes to load us all and the Amotryp ore.”
NINTH PANEL:
Lots of naked muscle, grunting and pushing. As the Lt and the Marines are hustling ore and workers onto the pirate ship, Kip is speaking to a subordinate, “Put ‘em in a cargo hold, in stasis. I will take the Lt with me for further training. Let’s head home. What a catch! We’ll have to raid this place regularly. That Amotryp should at least double cum production! Extraordinary manflesh. Yes, I think I’ll add the Marines to my private collection.”
TENTH PANEL:
The Lt is on his back on a divan in the Captain’s boudoir. Very garish room. As a result, his reactive camouflage is a riot of colors. Kip is on his knees between the Marine’s hunky legs, sucking away. The Lt is looking upward, grinning blankly.
Kip is thinking, “Great taste... great aroma... So the nano-tats absorb and reproduce the aphrodisiac... probably an unintended consequence of the technology. Researched TSM technology on the ship’s computer—the nanos are actually throughout his body; the ones on the surface change color and shape to blend... can also repair damage, reflect or absorb energy... so the Marines are kept naked except for whatever gear they need for the job at hand. The more I stimulate his cock, the more the nanos stimulate cum... hmmm... scrumptious tech...”
The Lt is just barely thinking... the pirate’s mind control echoing in his head, “My Captain treats us right. My Captain is my Corp commander. We’re so lucky to be his cum slaves... His mouth feels so good. Must pump my manseed for my Captain...”
ELEVENTH PANEL:
Insert on left: Ship landing on Planet Pinzatz. Airy towers, gaudy colors. Flying ships. Space pirate heaven.
Main frame: Our naked Marine, hands again bound back, tattooed cock sticking out from his tattooed muscular thighs, is being led by Kip toward a decidedly odd door, “This is the entrance to my exhibit room. I call it the Gate of Pleasure. You and your men will be very happy here.”
We see a metal frame hung with an overlapping double door onto which two muscled cum slaves are racked; one upright, one upside-down, facing each other. Since the doors overlap, the slaves’ cocks and mouths connect, their suction holding the door closed. Over the door, in ornate script, is a sign reading, “Captain Kip’s Private Exhibit. Admission by appointment only.”
“We’ve skillfully hidden pumping apparatus in the frame, so though they’re trained to suck each other nonstop, their cum is being drained down hidden tubes, while other clear tubes keep them watered and fed. Except for rest and hard exercise periods, they are always here; six slaves, three shifts a day. Must maintain production! But I’ve arranged for a very special exhibit for you and your squad. I’m certain you will just love it here! You’ll be doing what you’re trained to do: soldiering on. Now that we have those mind control implants in your brains, you’ll all be in a virtual world of manly effort, heroic deeds! My guests will so enjoy seeing you all. And I will make sure you get plenty of exercise and personal attention from me. Yes, I am certain you will learn that I am the best commander you have ever had—and I will never abandon you!”
Kip grabs a cum slave butt cheek and the door opens with an audible “Plop!” as the Gate studs are separated to allow entry to the Marines’ new posting.
TWELFTH PANEL:
Later: we can see Captain Kip’s personal exhibit space. It is a large room with one glass wall overlooking the garish pirate city towers. The room itself is dark, but the exhibits are in pools of light. There are various devices set about, each with a manly, naked slave attached. They represent various occupations and activities.
One, nearby, has a big muscular worker, one of the miners from Ophuk perhaps, naked but for his yellow hardhat, tan work boots. Standing in the bright light, bulging legs apart, before a pile of rock. His strong arms are stretched up, overhead, bound to a big, gleaming stainless steel sledge hammer (held aloft somehow, shinning into the dark); the only motion, his huge erection, pumping a thick white stream of cum through a tube, as though onto the rocks, where it is sucked away.
Another nearby exhibit consists of two muscular wrestlers, sweatily grappling in an intricate, but to Captain Kip’s mind, artistic, hold, their pulsing erections plainly visible through their tight, thin singlets.
In the center, set-up like a museum diorama exhibit: a long pedestal piled with sand, bright lighting focused on it. The dozen hunky Marines, naked except for their boots, goggled helmets and gear belts, are slogging through the sand, marching in place. Their hands and boots and bound to barely visible, rotating plexi-glass columns, as their bulging arms and muscular legs slowly swing in soldierly lockstep, to and fro, back and forth...
Naked bodies are swirling with the colors of the desert: kaki, yellow, slate; tattooed erections are at full flag. Looking pumped and hot... and hypnotically focused. Sweat is gleaming on their hunky bodies, their minds far away on a mission to battle the reptoid Zalarians for the Pinzatz commander whom they love because he treats them right and will never abandon them.
On the nearest TSM it is possible to see the tube running from the clear condom covering his cock-pumping-sperm. All the TSMs are happily marching and pumping.
Kip and a couple pirates, in deep shadow, are watching, as if they too were hypnotized.
Lt Studz is in the lead, big chest puffed out, proudly calling:
The TSMs, deep in trance, are alternately calling back,