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Escaping the Chemical Farm Chapter 1: Conditioning For LaFontaine By Draconicon

Sergeant Jacob Castleman knew he and his men were fucked the moment the stun grenades went off, even though he didn't know how fucked until he was allowed to wake up again. The pinch of a needle in his neck was the first thing he noticed, and he groaned as soon as it pressed into him. The following surging, burning feeling in his veins only made it worse, preventing him from falling asleep again.

"Nnnngh..."

His arms thumped about above him as he tried to push the needle away, and the Doberman realized he was restrained. He opened one eye, vision too blurry to make out details, but he could see the purple light of a bondage matrix overhead.

That was bad enough, but as he blinked his eyes clear, he realized that they were far from their objective. They'd been sent to liberate a data storage plant before they were ambushed in the control room. This...this wasn't the control room. The ceiling and walls were covered in chrome plates, mirroring everyone from every angle except below. The room was pristine, completely clean, and it smelled it, too, burning the Doberman's nose.

A lab, he imagined. He was in someone's lab, though what the enemy wanted...

As he groaned his way to consciousness, he rolled his head from side to side, and saw that the matrix extended to his left and right, holding the arms of the rest of his squad.

Shit...

As he dropped his head, he heard a clatter. He turned, trying to see it, but the sound only got louder.

Clitter-clatter, clitter-clatter. He kept whipping his head around, trying to see the source of it until he heard the same sound coming from all around him.

Tags?

Jacob stared at the red plastic tags hanging from his men's ears. Each man had one in his left ear, dangling down and clacking every time it hit something. It was about three inches long, numbered, and it looked almost exactly the same as the tags that they put on livestock back at home.

Shit, shit, shit...

The more he woke up, the more he became aware of. Like the fact that his ankles were locked to the floor with a restraint matrix like the one overhead, the forcefield too strong to pull them up. Like the fact that he was completely naked, his cock hanging down over his balls and his men in similar positions. Like the fact that the burning in his veins wasn't stopping, and was slowly moving further and further down towards his crotch.

Like the fact that they had an audience.

Jacob growled deep in his throat as he looked at the many Saurians that were gathered in the viewing deck on the second floor. Probably where the scientists congregated when they were conducting experiments, he supposed, but these were not scientists. He saw the tight, clipped uniforms of officers that were in the upper ranks, as well as the white and black suits that the Saurian politicians tended to wear.

Fucking Saurians...

He didn't dare bare his teeth, much as he wanted to. Despite all maneuvers to the contrary, his superiors in the Far-Flung Furs were not technically at war with the Saurian Systems just yet. There had been conflicts on the border planets between their various systems, and there were accusations of spying and the building of super-weapons, but neither side had been caught committing a legitimate act of war thus far.

It was only a matter of time, though. This would count as that, if he or any of the rest of his squad were able to get free. Not just from being seized, either.

The sergeant flicked his eyes to the side, looking at the bull to his right. Corporal Bjorn Arvidson, his second, glanced back. No words, just a single nod.

Never give in, never surrender.

It was their motto, and they'd keep to it.

The sergeant looked back at the assembled Saurians, taking them in. It had been some time since he had seen them up close, and they definitely had gone through a bit of a shift since the last time he'd seen them.

Then again, most of the lizards that the Far-Flung Furs saw were part of the upper class. The feathered ones, scaly creatures that lived on the heights of Saurian society, were the ones that were always on the news, that were on the holo-dramas. These ones...these ones were different.

These Saurians stood at least seven feet tall, each and every one of them. Some breached the eight-foot marker, though they were rare, thankfully. Their green scales made it look like he was looking at a bunch of ugly, pebbled emeralds that were standing in smart suits, and their yellow eyes seemed to glow in the low light.

They walked without the boots that he was used to hearing from his own men, supported on digitigrade feet that had sharp claws like raptors at the end. They clicked whenever the politicians and officers shifted their positions, and it echoed everywhere in the small room.

Finally, one of them - the only one dressed in blue on the balcony - stepped forward. He had a rank insignia on his chest that Jacob recognized as belonging to the science division of the Saurian Systems, and it was big enough to mark the scaly as a director. Possibly the director of this entire facility.

"Bring out the machines," he called down, his voice even, but with a booming push behind it. "I want them all hooked up in the next few minutes."

Hooked up? Jacob glanced at Bjorn, and the bull glanced back. Neither of them had a clue what was going on, but considering they were all naked, it probably didn't mean anything good. The Doberman shook his head, biting his lip to try and ignore the burning feeling getting ever closer to his crotch.

It didn't help that it was getting harder and harder not to pay attention to his own naked status. He could feel the eyes of the dozens of men up there on him and his men, and his cock occasionally twitched as it felt like it was under inspection. He tried to ignore it, but there was something to the feeling of being stared at that made his dick keep trying to twitch, and then...

Well, then it started lifting up, getting hard.

...Fuck.

All around them, slightly shorter Saurians were bustling about, carrying tubes and wires and more towards the eight restrained soldiers. Jacob bit his lips as he felt a scaly hand on his dick, grabbing it tight and giving it a few hard pumps before letting go.

"Fuck off," he muttered.

SMACK!

His cock swung back and forth, whipping about from the sudden impact. It didn't hurt, but it made him yelp all the same.

"Silence, mammal," the scientist muttered. "You're nothing but product, now."

"Product?"

There was no answer, but he couldn't imagine that was a good thing. His cock continued to rise, the heat from the earlier injection settling into the base of his shaft like some sort of implant. It kept rising up through the center of his cock, and the hotter his flesh felt, the harder his cock got.

Jacob growled in his throat, trying not to show too many teeth as the lizards grabbed his dick and pulled it up. One of them held a plastic tube in hand, almost opaque, but still just transparent enough to see shapes through it. Certainly transparent enough for him to see the heft of his dick as they pulled his cock into it.

"What the hell's this for?!" Bjorn shouted. "Hey, you, asshole in the blue coat! I'm asking you a question. What the fuck is this for?!"

"Not a good idea," Jacob muttered, though he couldn't help but feel something similar.

As the tube pressed down to the base of his shaft, something inside inflating to seal it onto his cock, the Director turned to look at them. He leaned forward over the railing, smirking slightly.

"The Saurian System thanks you for your contribution towards genetics-based science. The more you contribute, the more your prison sentences as intruders on Saurian space will be reduced. Be thankful that you have been given the chance to work off your debt to scaly society."

That meant nothing...save for the phrase 'genetics-based science' and the fact that their dicks were all covered in milking tubes. Jacob glanced down, wincing as he felt one of the lizards wrapping a metal band around the back of his balls, locking the tube into place. A long connector tube ran from the plastic capsule around his cock all the way towards some container in the distance, and he could feel a soft suction already starting up.

"I have heard that mammals pride themselves on lasting longer than Saurians. Something about how their mating habits require them to inseminate their mates through direct contact. Let's see if that's true."

The director hit a button on his balcony, and suddenly, the machines were on. Jacob gasped, arching his back and thrusting his hips forward, and Bjorn was only a second behind him. The other men of his squad, eight of them in all, did their best to hold out, but one by one, they thrust forward as if they were claiming their woman back home.

The suction was intense, a rolling, squeezing, wet feeling that combined all the best sensations of a blowjob and vaginal sex together. He gasped for breath as he thrust futilely against the milker. There was no up and down motion, nothing to match his body against, but rather a rolling, squeezing set of inflating gel cushions on the inside, all well-lubed to squeeze down against his cock and drive him mad.

He gasped for breath as the tube suddenly went tight, pulling hard against the base of his cock, and through the plastic, he could see the veins on his shaft suddenly popping out. The milker was turning into a cock-pump, one that was forcing him harder and stiffer than ever before.

The Doberman tried to lean back, to pull his hips away from the milker, but the tubes that connected the capsules to the storage tanks were pulled tight. He was made to thrust his hips forward, to put himself on display, and the slow rolling, pulling, squeezing feeling inside was getting firmer and firmer.

He could almost see the milking ring on the inside, moving up and down along his shaft, but it was more than that. There was something spinning and rubbing right against his cock-head in the tip of the milking capsule, and further down, he could see something that was almost licking against the underside of his cock. It was constantly stimulating him, driving him nuts, and the injection...

His cock felt like it was on fire, his eyes rolling back in his head as he fought the urge to cum right then and there. His toes curled against the floor, his claws scraping against the metal, while his arms tensed and then went straight as he sagged down, only supported by the restraint matrix.

"Nnngh...mmmph..."

"It must be a point of mammalian pride to hold out," the Director said. "It is hardly efficient. Then again, perhaps it allows for stronger seed to reach the eggs. After all, one should follow the rule of survival of the fittest."

The Saurian was pissing him off, but he could barely focus on his anger through the pleasure. He could hardly breathe, his hips twitching, his eyes rolling back as the milker continued teasing his shaft, sucking, pulling, massaging his dick in ways that no living woman could have done.

He gritted his teeth, his jaw aching as he felt the ring in the capsule moving faster and faster, jerking the middle of his shaft off as the spinning nodules in the top drove the head of his cock inside. Other brushes rubbed right beneath the head of his cock, right in that sensitive spot where it was most needed, and he could feel the capsule tightening further. The suction was getting worse, his cock getting fatter, more sensitive, pushing out more and more towards the edges of the container.

Finally, he could hold back no longer. The Doberman arched his back, gasping for breath as he came into the capsule. The ring sped up, dragging up and down his shaft, tugging every rope of cum that he had to offer down the pipe for the container further down.

He thought that he'd get a break, but no. If anything, the milker sped up, and he screamed as he felt it go mad, bouncing up and down his cock and attacking the tip with everything that the machine had to offer. He wasn't the only one, either. As the men in line failed to hold back, they were treated to the same attack on their hyper-stimulated dicks as he was.

Through it all, the Director grinned.

_Time goes funny when pleasure overwhelms, and that is exactly what happens to Jacob. The sergeant stares into space as he feels his cock throbbing, desperate to cum. He never thought that he'd want to cum again, but after hours of edging - hours? Days? - he knows he'd give anything to cum right then and there.

He hangs from the restraints, gasping for breath, supported as much by the new dildo up his ass as by anything else. His balls are bloated, feeling almost twice their size due to the many drugs and long sessions of edging he's suffered. The pressure of his thighs comes close to crushing them if he is not careful, but it's hard to stand properly when you're getting fucked by a dildo bigger than your own dick and your cock is being teased by shocks and gel pressure._

Jacob wants to think of the rest of the men, but he can't. He can't give orders, can barely think. He has to think about himself and hope for the best.

_Sleep has become a foreign concept for Jacob, and he is pretty sure that everyone else is as bad. He doesn't remember the last time that he's been able to sleep, unless this is all a dream and he's fallen asleep in his restraints.

He pants for breath as he feels the dildo thrust him forward, making him slam his cock into some strange gel tube for the pleasure of the Saurians watching. Thrust, his hole opening, his prostate screaming, his cock squelching into that tube. He feels it squeezing, almost as if it's some sort of living thing.

Pull, the dildo comes out, his hips come back, his cock slides free of the tube. The Doberman can feel it sucking on him, begging for him to thrust his cock right back inside, and it takes everything he has to hold back. He pants, gasping for breath -

"NNNGH!"

Another thrust, forcing him forward as his ass parts, opening for the dildo as the tube opens for him. His cock jerks, almost cumming -_

"Not yet."

The Director is beside him, smirking, pinching him just behind his cock. He wants to cum so bad, but he can't, not with that pressure on him.

It fades, and he is allowed to slump back. The Director looks him up and down, smirks, then moves down the line.

_Time dilates, shifts, pulls, stretches, contracts. Jacob groans as he thrusts forward again, his cock inside of a slightly larger gel tube, but it still feels tighter than ever. Mostly because there's someone else inside of it with him.

He grunts as Bjorn pulls back, dragged back with his own plug, only to thrust forward as Jacob pulls back from his own. The torment continues, driving them forward, back, forward, back, the inflated plugs in their asses too big to pop out, and pulling on their stretching holes again and again.

The entire squad has been partnered off, gay, straight, whatever, all of them grinding dick to dick as the scientists drizzle chemicals into the gel tubes to do...things...to their cocks. He can hear some of his men screaming in pleasure, others in pain, orgasms turned to torture and torture turned to bliss._

The Director stands beside them, watching with the usual smirk on his face, his head tilted back so that he can look down his snout at them. Bjorn doesn't notice, and Jacob barely does. It's so hard to think now, time stretching, pulling forward. He can't remember the last time that he came, and his balls ache, his cock burns, and he swears it would hurt if it wasn't for all the lube that the assistants keep pouring over him.

He coughs, gasping for breath as he tries to slump down. He's not allowed, the restraint matrix lifting him up, forcing him to keep the right angle for thrusting. In, out, in, out, each time grinding his cock against the bull's, each time feeling the other man against him. It takes everything he has not to scream.

"You have staying power, I suppose...if you're properly drugged," the Director says. "Now that you're properly aroused, let's see how long you maintain it..."

The Director lifts one blue-sleeved arm, tilting a single vial over the opening at the top of the gel tube. The Doberman and bull watch the liquid fall -

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

And they scream together, arching their backs. One thrust, one orgasm. Another thrust, another. Jacob's balls no longer ache, but scream as they're made to deliver one payload after another. Ropes of cum feet in length shoot out through the top of the tube, falling down into the collecting basin between him and Bjorn.

"I see you mammals are as weak as ever..."

The Director steps away, neither Jacob or Bjorn able to send a parting shot after him. They are too busy cumming their brains out.

Thrust goes the machine, pop goes the butt plug, slide goes his cock.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Another scream, another gasp, another moan, another pant. The restraints pull further and further apart, keeping them from sagging, stretching out their bodies until they're completely straight up and down. Robotic arms pull the gel tube up and down, milking them, forcing them to cum again and again.

One thrust, one orgasm.

The bull and Doberman scream, and they would fall against each other if only they had their freedom.

#

Hours, days, weeks? Nobody knew how long they'd been tied and teased, let alone Jacob. For all that the sergeant worked in intelligence, he swore that there was no intelligent thought allowed in this room.

He slumped against his restraints, his head inches from Bjorn's chest as the bull sagged above him. The soft huff, huff, huff of the other soldier's panting breath played over the back of his neck, and he shivered as it tickled the nerves back there.

How long...how long?

There was no easy answer, but he had to know. The Far-Flung Furs had to know what happened to them, had to get the information that they'd managed to steal. If they could just...

Just one message. One message, and not only would this mission be worth it, but the rescue mission would be launched. They'd be safe again, brought home in short order. They'd be back to normal, away from...this.

Bjorn twitched, his cock jumping despite dozens of orgasms, and Jacob gasped for breath as it smacked against his own. They were so slick, so wet, their cocks dripping with lube, and he could feel lines of it running down his cock all the way to his balls and dripping off of it.

The scientists were back, the lizards grabbing hold of the machines impaling their asses. Jacob bit his lip as he felt the plug inside sliding free, but it wasn't enough. He still gasped as the plug slid out, the popping sound of the silicone leaving his hole just as loud as ever.

His second in command was no better, the bull hissing and arching his back as the dildo came free. The pair of them sagged down again, the restraint matrixes above humming softly.

The scientists were talking in their own language, whatever they were discussing broken up by the occasional chuckling hiss that he'd learned to recognize whenever the Director found something funny. They were probably laughing at him and Bjorn again, particularly the way that his cock continued to throb against the bull's.

It was humiliating. Not because of Bjorn, exactly, but because it was with another guy. He had a girl waiting for him back home, someone that wanted to be there for him, someone that trusted him to find his way out of any dangerous situation he found himself in and make his way back to the core systems.

Not someone that would get a boner grinding up against another guy. And not someone that was still throbbing hard despite an orgasm only a minute or two ago.

Go down...

He glared at his cock, but it did no good. The laughter didn't make him go soft, nor did the humiliation, nor did the constant throbbing that reminded him that he was pressed hard against another guy. All he did was throb in return, and all the Doberman could do about it was growl deep in his throat.

Finally, all the scientists seemed to be done, and they scattered away, leaving him and Bjorn alone. They'd been moved to a side-room, one that didn't have a viewing balcony - or window, as far as he was aware - and while he was glad to ditch the peanut gallery, he didn't know what to feel about...this. This intimacy.

"What do we do, boss?" Bjorn muttered.

"...Figuring that out."

"Still gotta get the invasion news home."

"I know."

"Command's gonna shit their pants when they hear."

"I know. I know."

"..."

"Stop thinking about total obliteration."

"How did you know?"

"I'm pressed right up against your fucking dick. You think I can't feel your heartbeat?"

"...Sorry, boss."

He shook his head. Another time, he might have apologized, but right then? He didn't care. He just wanted to get the hell out of here before his head got fucked up any more than it already was.

Before he could settle down and try to think, though, the door opened again. The Doberman turned, his ears laying back over his head as the Director stepped in.

Click, click, click. The toe-claws on the Saurian's bare feet tapped out a beat louder than boots would have, and the green-scaled, yellow-eyed asshole came to a halt a step away and between the two soldiers, forming the tip of a triangle. He stood with his arms held behind his back, looking them over, slightly smirking as he had been doing every other time that Jacob had seen him.

Lifting a hand to polish his Director insignia and using the other to adjust his blue coat, the Director cleared his throat.

"I suppose I should tell you that our patrons have found you quite fascinating specimens. You have contributed greatly to the work here."

"What fucking work is that?" Bjorn grunted.

"Cosmetic, for the most part. Funded by some of the rich wives of current heads of government, from what I can gather."

"You mean we're just part of some beauty project? The fuck? What the fuck are you fucks thinking?!"

"That a paycheck is a paycheck," the Director said, shrugging slightly. "If the money pours in and the captives are provided, then there is really no need to complain, is there?"

Bjorn opened his mouth to spit something back, but Jacob clicked his jaws. Just a simple snap of his teeth, nothing more than that, but it was enough to get the bull to shut his trap and not say anything stupid. The last thing that they needed was to out themselves as anyone more than simple soldiers.

Intelligence often operated with an agent or two inside of the average military squad, just to make sure that anything important always made it home. They had no overt authority, but they knew how to work situations.

This, admittedly, wasn't in the handbook, but they could figure it out. As long as they stayed calm, they could figure it out.

The Director turned to him, cocking his head to the side. The smirk faded for a moment, then came back as he reached out with one gloved hand.

"Ah, I think I understand."

"You understand - mmmph!"

Jacob bit his lips as the Director's latex-clad fingers grabbed him by the balls, pulling them, rolling them around in the palm of his hand. The Doberman clenched his mouth shut, not daring to let out the slightest moan for the asshole.

Yet, Bjorn was in a similar situation. The bull was getting groped, fondled in the same way, his balls rolled forward, then back. The Director shook his head.

"I will say that you mammalian species have a remarkable refreshment rate. Most of the reptilian males merely spray their seed, and then they are done with the mating season, the eggs fertilized and nothing more to do. You must have a most inefficient means of mating if you must climax so many times."

"Mmmph...makes the process more fun than yours is," Jacob muttered.

"That is another reason for capturing your kind, I confess."

"...What the...mmmph...what the fuck do you mean?" Bjorn growled.

"Quite simple, really."

The Director yanked on their balls, pulling them together again with a measure of pleasure and pain at the same time. The pair of them gasped, their cocks kissing at the tip once more, their dicks throbbing against one another as the lizard explained.

"As you might imagine, the...enthusiasm of the mammalian sorts is somewhat in vogue here in the Saurian System. There are a number of men in the upper echelons of government that would treasure having someone that was so eager for sex that they would do...well, anything, if they were merely asked for it.

"So, in exchange for the cost of a prisoner - and a little extra - my institute will occasionally bend the rules of war to offer someone particularly...intriguing...to the higher ups. There are many that will pay fortunes for those that fit their needs. Someone with a wide posterior, perhaps, or someone with plenty to offer in front."

"Mmmph...got a bunch of - mmph - tail-raisers in government, do ya?" Bjorn muttered.

"It hardly has the stigma that it has in your system, mammal."

Jacob was doing his best to keep his mouth shut and listen. If there was one thing that the bull could do, it was keep the asshole talking. The bull had always been good at that, even back in the early days of training. Keeping the instructor yapping so that they ran out of time to attend another part of the training exercises was one of the first things that the bull had learned to do.

Nowadays, it was better at keeping suspects chatty while they figured out how to handle the information. Jacob had always been the listener, always the one to sort through the information for later.

Unfortunately, the Director didn't seem to have any problem offering useless information as well as the occasional tidbits of much-needed stuff. So, they were to be sold, but to who? Why? What had gotten the attention of their potential buyer? Too little information on too broad a situation.

Not to mention that the teasing masturbation was getting worse. The Director's gloves had found their way to his cock, and it forced it firmly against Bjorn's. Once more, he could hear his partner's heartbeat through his dick, and the slow pulse started to quicken as they were stroked together, ground against each other.

"I imagine that the two of you will fetch a high price, when all is said and done. I hope to see the pair of you in good hands."

"What do you care?" the bull grunted.

"I care because it reflects on my institute if you are broken. I must ensure that you are of sufficient quality not to."

"Mmmph...we're not going...to break."

"I think you will find you already have, to a small extent. I imagine that you did not get hard for other men, before."

"..."

"And you, silent one." The Director turned. "I imagine that you are planning an escape. If you must, you must, but try not to damage things on the way out? It will only increase your price, and the ones that can afford that level of payment are most certainly not kind to their slaves. They view them as most...expendable."

"...We will find a way out."

"I imagine you will try, but let me inform you of your situation."

The Director finally let them go, and to their shame, both Doberman and bull thrust a few times before they realized that they didn't have to. They pulled back as much as their restraints allowed, but their faces were bright red. As the Saurian pulled his gloves off, tossing them into an incinerator in the corner, he continued.

"You are on a spacecraft headed towards the center of the Saurian System. If, by some chance, you escape from the lab, you would have two choices. You would either have to take an escape pod, hoping that there was a planet in range that you could fire it to, or you would have to try and take over the ship. Neither option is particularly likely, taking into account our route and the conditioning that you have already been put through."

"What fucking conditioning?" Bjorn shouted. "You didn't do anything except fuck with us!"

"Did we not?"

The quiet surety in the Saurian's voice scared Jacob more than anything else that had been said. The fact that the Director knew that they were Intelligence - he had to know, with this attitude - and didn't have anything to fear either spoke to a great arrogance or a greater security than the Doberman had ever dealt with.

"At any rate, it is time to further it. Computer. Initiate Conditioning Segment Alpha."

"Confirmed."

The matrices above their heads suddenly cut out, and both soldiers fell before they could stop themselves, not used to standing on their own after being tied up for so long. No sooner had they hit the ground, though, than they were restrained again, held to all fours. Soft whirring sounds announced the return of the different stimulation machines that had been fucking their asses for hours, but this time, they seemed to be coming from the wall.

More than that, the far wall had turned, the different panels coming together to form screens. He didn't know what was happening, but patterns and words were darting across it, and that couldn't be good.

"Enjoy your time in the conditioning cell, agents. I will check on your progress tomorrow, perhaps with a buyer to examine you properly."

The End