A Day for Harvesting - by Sean

[cherhanson1]

This is a story that I have saved long ago written by seantheartist. Enjoy!

A Day for Harvesting​

Short summary : High schools are required by law to supply a certain quota of their male students to Strategic Security Services (SSS) who are entitled to cart them off to a slave torture and labor camp or to snuff them right on the spot. By this means, the government wants to fight the surplus of males in the State’s population. Since the use of contraceptives has been banned along with abortion, and the gene pool, due to interbreeding, produced mostly males with a high level of sexual needs, males were are born ten to each one female.



Sergeant Major Krueger of the 84th Strategic Security Service (SSS) Special Action Company scanned the deployment of his men from atop the M2AL Bradley Armored Cavalry vehicle. The objective was the Marshall South High School − one of three such structures in the notoriously Republican conservative Ohio Marshall suburb.

It was a classic structure; two floors on an elongated H pattern. The longitudinal branch bulging in the middle with administrative offices as well as the teacher’s lounge and torture chambers (some degree of political correctness had permeated even this reactionary community). The gymnasium and cafeteria were a semi-detached block connected by an enclosed passageway to the main structure and out of view to Krueger whose vehicle was poised at the base of the U shaped drive in front of the building. Near where the flagpole once stood − before such effects and fascistic symbolism was done away with − stood a most beautiful sight; a gallows with the near naked body of an eighteen year old senior male chosen by lot that morning hanging from it, left to slowly strangle to death, gagging and strangling as his fellow and sister students watched. All he wore was a special adjustable leather device that strapped wrists to hips and held his genitals forward so they would be more conspicuous; to make a better show of the sacrifice. His summary execution was to symbolize the sacrifices made by all Americans on this, the second anniversary of the one-day war and revolution.

The first squad, under direct control of the platoon sergeant, had dismounted to cover the various exits from the building. In theory all, but the main entrance should have been welded shut and nearly unbreakable Plexiglas with reinforced steel mesh installed in all windows in accordance with the will of the Supreme Court Senate and Citizens of the People’s Republic. Krueger, however, was a professional soldier, so he left little to chance. Glancing backward to ensure the fourth squad was deployed to deal with potential reactionary response to the harvesting of South High’s male students.

Satisfied, Krueger hoisted his massive form out of the vehicle’s turret. His long, muscular black clad legs reached the ground in one fluid motion. His patrol harness swung from massive square shoulders. From it hung tear gas and stun grenades, a pouch of disposable plasticuffs, three sets of monogrammed steel cuffs, a savage serrated combat knife, a Myotron, the recently improved taser stun gun, and four spare magazines for his new model light-weight individual combat rifle. He hoped not to use the magazines − his job was to secure young lean bodies. The slaughter would come later and at a pace infinitely slower than steel hypervelocity fletchet rounds would bring.

As the remaining thirteen members of his platoon formed up behind him and strode rapidly across the front lawn toward the main entrance in a narrow wedge, he ordered in a tense, staccato, “All right people, second squad right, third left, RTO, you stick with me!” Letting his rifle hang from its patrol sling, Krueger strode up to the double main doors, his heavy fists wrapping around the handles and throwing them wide.

“What is the meaning of this! This school has already made its quota!” came a high imperious voice. The school principal rushed out of the administrative office. Just behind and to his left the principal’s private secretary hastened to keep up, a steno pad clutched to his narrow chest just below his polka dot necktie.

With a shrugging motion, Krueger’s rifle was balanced in one hand at waist level. A leather sheathed finger squeezed and a three round burst punched into the wimp’s chest. The hypersonic Flechet rounds disintegrated the man’s heart dropping him to the floor a full sixty seconds before the panic-stricken brain could loose consciousness.

Mr. Assing glanced briefly down at the body sprawled at his feet, its legs still trembling in nervous anticipation of death, a smelly wetness growing in the crotch as the secretary lost control while dying. “Perhaps we should ...” he began, his gray eyes leveling on the six foot-six-inch form of SMAJ Krueger.

“...Discuss quotas? Mr. Principal?” Krueger completed. He motioned with his left hand toward the principal’s private office as his men passed on either side of him deploying along the passageways.

The man spun on one heel and passed into his outer office ignoring the male students and faculty members already sinking to their knees, quivering in terror. Krueger followed the man into his inner office. There, spread-eagled on a conference table lay the body of a muscular young male. Steel cuffs held his torn wrists and ankles in place. A hastily discarded cat lay across his lacerated chest.

“One of our student teachers,” explained Mr. Assing. “I was explaining the need for socially correct History lesson plans.”

“The quota is now fifty percent,” Krueger snapped.

“Fifty!” The man nearly lost his composure. “Why us?”

“NOW! And in addition we need at least ten percent over and above the fifteen percent previously required by the federal government.” He squared his shoulders defiantly.

Soundlessly Krueger tossed a handful of Dog Tags onto the conference table. “These were taken from known eighteen year olds in this district during the last forty-eight hours.” Krueger’s men would dine well on their bodies, which even now roasted on open grills under the supervision of all but one of the company’s officers. The male captives moaned softly.

“Oh my God!” Mr. Assing hissed, his normal pallor going dead white.

The metallic dog tags which must be worn by all males who had been stripped of their citizenship by order of the Supreme Court Justice and the Associate Justices, indicated the wearers to be under eighteen years old—as minors they could not be raped, tortured or executed unless they were guilty of otherwise criminal behavior. Juvenile delinquency had nearly disappeared since the SSS and National Guard had taken to hanging the flayed bodies from thousands of streetlights throughout the nation, of anyone suspected of youth gang membership. Any male attempting to conceal his age condemned himself and every male in his family to cruel deaths.

The Principal’s slender form shuddered in terror. What if he were held responsible! Krueger’s blue eyes narrowed beneath their bushy black brows reading the man’s response. “We that are the SSS have no evidence of district staff involvement...” He hesitated as the man began to sigh in relief, “...Yet!” This last contained a sharp threat even though his voice in no way changed volume or stress. “However, an example must be made, and as it is clear forged IDs are available it must be assumed all male students are at least eighteen years of age.”

“You mean...” The man’s chest began to heave with erotic anticipation.

“Correct! Fifty percent of the entire male class rather than just the seniors.”

“It still seems drastic,” the man began to protest.

Since this was near the end of the school year, all male senior students were indeed eighteen years of age or more, though Krueger didn’t know that. As far as he was concerned, he would be enforcing the new law allowing him do declare any male whose age was in doubt to be of age and at his disposal.

The student teacher groaned again. Abruptly Krueger’s rifle came up as he emptied the rest of the seventy-round drum magazine into the contorted body of the student teacher with whom Mr. Assing had been amusing himself. Although he had mounted the young stud twice already, this cruel and exotic torture had left him still hard as the needle like projectiles shredded the student teacher’s chest, blew open his skull and utterly destroyed his cock and balls.

“Your staff stands condemned,” Krueger said. He tossed a blanket death warrant onto the splintered, blood stained conference table. “Shall I carry out the sentence?” he inquired politely.

The man looked frantically from the corpse to the warrant, and back to the imposing figure of Krueger. If his staff was slaughtered, and he had no doubt this man would be easily able to do so, Mr. Assing wondered if it was true all SSS noncoms could literally fuck slaves to death with their notoriously huge cocks. If the male staff died then he and his remaining instructors would actually have to teach in classrooms rather than spend their days in the teacher’s lounge toying savagely and erotically with pretty young student bodies.

“Of course, Mr. Principal,” Krueger smiled with exaggerated courtesy, “you will be free to consider all remaining male students to be eighteen.” That sent a gasp of pleasure through the man. For a moment he glanced at Krueger’s enormous shoulders, tongue running across moist lips. He wondered what it might be like to be beneath....

Krueger repressed a shudder of revulsion, at the very thought of such a coupling. Instead he snapped, “Kindly order your male students to assemble in the hallways for selection.”

With that he turned and strode from the room into the main corridor. Glancing left and right he saw four men spaced out, stun batons drawn, rifles slung. Next to Krueger his RTO raised his rifle. Unless there was a full-scale riot he and he alone would shoot. Long ago as a young Ranger Lieutenant on Grenada, Krueger had been in a situation with literally dozens of panicky troops blazing away on full automatic at rebellious targets. He had no intention of repeating the experience in a concrete and steel corridor—ricochets were notoriously unpredictable.

Over the P.A. system he heard the voice of Mr. Principle Assing, “Attention faculty, staff and students of Marshall South High School. A grievous and traitorous situation has been brought to our attention by the guardians of the enlightened revolution, who even now control the passages and accesses of this campus. A handful of the male students of this district have chosen to betray us all.” There came a sound like alley cats hissing throughout the building. “They have chosen to deny their responsibilities as males. They have obtained and distributed false dog tags in this district identifying them as minors, and thus exempt from society’s justice, at least for the time being. Every student will be immediately stripped, and will report to his own locker. You need not bother with your worthless dog tags. You will kneel, hands raised and wrists crossed over your heads. One half of you—a full fifty percent—will be chosen for immediate enslavement. I believe everyone can understand their fate. You will be sent to the slaughterhouses and tanneries. Some will be honored to provide life extending organs and tissue to the leaders and protectors of the enlightened culture we enjoy. Others will satisfy our senses with their bodies and torments. Remember, were it not for the counter-revolutionary traitors in our midst, only thirty-five percent of the seniors would have been called upon today. Instead, thanks to a handful of scum, half of each class will pay the price. I congratulate you on attaining your majority,” he concluded with a sneer.

The RTO made an alert motion with one hand, to get Krueger’s attention. The senior non-com reached out one hand for the headset as he scanned the sudden flood of nude teenage flesh being driven into the corridor by the flails and whips of the faculty.

“I’ve got parents gathering out here top,” came the voice of the platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Cunningham.

“Grab the first ten and make an example of them as planned,” Krueger replied.

Krueger could hear a loud smacking noise coming from down the corridor near where the second fire team, second squad was securing the northern branch of the structure. “On my way Corp—keep it contained for thirty seconds,” came Krueger’s reply. As he reached the intersection of the two corridors Krueger heard the single sharp report of a rifle on semi-automatic. He frowned slightly, but maintained a rapid steady pace. “Sorry Top!”

Corporal Reynix backed into the passage from room 113, Introductory Western Culture—the high school version of a crib course. Krueger and his RTO forced their way into the room, stationing themselves on either side of the door, their rifles covering a swarm of nude and semi-nude teenage muscle hunks. At the base of scarred plexiglass windows lay the body of an overweight balding man, a bright red circle and triangle of blood at the base of his skull.

“Football coach trying to smash the window with a chair, Top,” came Reynix’s voice. I was afraid the teen fuckers would stampede and we would have to fire them all down.”

“Absolutely Corp, a waste of good fuck-flesh. Oh, of course we have to assume the entire football squad is contaminated with counter-revolutionary lust.” Krueger licked his lips in anticipation. One muscular, brown-eyed brunet was clearly marked by his rigid cock as destined for the big sergeant’s personal pleasure.

The young man crawled back against the outside wall in a knot of nude teen flesh—two other brunets, a blond and a black. Advancing on them Krueger sank his fist into the football player’s ribbed belly and used his booted feet to kick the others in their bellies and balls to bring them to their knees. He heard the snick of steel locks as the RTO and Reynix used their personal cuffs to secure a nude prize each. These fresh faced athletes had tried, if only by not overpowering their coach, to resist conscription. The SSS would personally see to their thorough enslavement and even more thorough death through slow torture.

The teen sank to his knees at Krueger’s feet, his head bowed in pain. The man wrapped his fingers in long curling hair and yanked his choice’s head back slamming it against the bookcase running below the unbreakable windows. Viciously Krueger slapped and backhanded the upturned face with its aquiline nose and weeping soft brown eyes until the youth was sobbing in terror and pain. Hauling the prisoner up by the hair, Krueger threw him forward over the bookcase pinning the punk’s face against the windowpane.

Krueger noted that civilians were already forming up on the wide lawn of the school. He would have to get out there soon. Quickly and savagely he struck deep into the teen’s lower back with one fist, while gripping the thick cock and balls squeezing hard enjoying the velvet hardness. It was amazing how these teen muscle hunks responded to the rough and brutal handling of the SSS—how they twisted, shrieked and begged on the torture frames while their cocks spurted a seemingly endless flow of cum. They even healed remarkably fast between torture sessions.

The teenager’s mind went blank as his kidneys seemed to explode with fiery pain. He remembered nothing until he was being thrown into the first cattle truck. The inner surface of his thighs was covered in sticky cum—his own. His hands were numb from the steel that was crushing his wrists. He felt plastic cable wraps binding his elbows until he thought his muscular pectorals would tear asunder. More cable wrapped around his ankles and knees.

As more of his classmates were dragged through the passageway crying in fear, piss and cum flowing from their smooth boyish cocks, and hurled onto and around his bound body only one thought enveloped him, I’m going to die! Please help me, God!

Krueger handed his prisoner off to a second squad trooper who was using his stun rod on low setting to herd a coffle of bound teens toward the front entrance. Scanning the hall, Krueger noted with approval that it was filling with hundreds of nude, quivering students. Each knelt in front of his own locker, backs pressed against cold steel doors, hands raised, wrists crossed flat bellies sucked in, knees spread, cocks and balls exposed.

He saw a plump gray haired man coming toward him. He was clad in blood, spattered leather boots, and a leather harness. Clearly he had been disciplining a student shortly before. “Soldier,” he called.

“Yes ... Sir,” Krueger growled. He came to an entirely still stance that seemed to threaten more than any gun barrel.

The man halted momentarily, flustered. He was accustomed to seeing males

quivering as he mounted them or used his prerogatives as Vice Principal,

and supervisor of discipline over all male staff and students.

Krueger glowered down at him. “Lord and the Senate preserve me,” he hissed to himself.

“Mr. Assing said you would require this er....”

“Sergeant Major, Sir,” Krueger replied stiffly. He accepted the neatly printed absentee list. He handed it to his RTO, and continued down the hall to where a slight commotion was arising. The communicator detached an optical scanner wound from his portable base unit. He passed it across the printed pages while keeping pace with and covering his leader’s back. On the com-screen in Lt. Warda Berliner’s command vehicle names and addresses began appearing.

The Lt. was a strange one. A member of West Point’s last COED class, he actually came up to Krueger’s standard of what a soldier should be. Being absent on the day your school was harvested was definite proof of rebellion. It was also a death warrant for your brothers and father if you had any. Berliner’s troops would move fast in their HumVees to sweep up any possible escapees from the other platoon sweeps.

A slender red headed teen suddenly burst from between two troopers’ long legs pumping in the adrenaline rush of fear. He tried to dodge around Krueger. The soldier’s right hand shot out grabbing the teen by one thin wrist and yanking the redheaded youth to a stop. Catching the would-be escapee by the other wrist, Krueger lifted his own hands high lifting the teen off his feet until the pouting pink lips were even with Krueger’s, and the green eyes were looking captivated into the man’s icy blue stare. Suddenly the young man’s face tilted forward. Krueger shifted his grip holding the swaying form aloft with one hand and gripping the doomed teen by the throat with the other. Smashing his mouth down on the young man’s, he brutally kissed it, his tongue forcing down that of his captive and deep into his hot moist throat. Krueger kissed the young man until the young-man cock and body were trembling with passion. The redhead’s eyes were squeezed tight utterly enrapt by the fantastic power of the man’s mouth. He could feel teeth biting deep into his lips, feel hot salty blood flowing over his tongue and chin—he could feel himself on the verge of a climax. What the young man did not feel was the gloved hand releasing his neck until the SSS Sergeant Major’s fist began punching into the youth’s belly and crotch, into his very guts.

The teen’s lips and cheek tore as his wildly tossed head pulled free of Krueger’s teeth. Over and over his young body exploded in pain as it was beaten. Teens cowering in plastic and steel handcuffs a hundred feet away stared in horror as they watched their classmate swing like a pendulum in tune with the rhythm of Krueger’s fist.

Abruptly Krueger released the tension in his arm and allowed the young man to collapse to the floor. As yet he had made nothing but animal like grunts, the breath driven from the young lungs in the first blow. Krueger twisted one of the teen’s arms up high above the teen’s back as the prisoner lay on his belly. Twisting until he nearly dislocated the slave’s left arm, Krueger caused the youth to lift his head and chest off the floor so that the freckled tear and blood streaked face was clearly visible to the other teens now being marked for slavery and death. With a savage wrench Krueger broke the youth’s left wrist.

The young man screamed piercingly and pounded the cold tile with his right fist. The teen’s legs drummed on the floor as the left elbow snapped. The shocking pain sent an orgasm through the slender form momentarily anesthetizing him and adding yet another pool of teen-scum to the already awash hallway. The pain returned with a vengeance as Krueger twisted the arm a full turn in its socket tearing away ligaments, cartilage muscle and nerves. The screaming became even more desperate as the process continued on the victim’s right arm. Using his hobnailed boots, Krueger smashed the small bones of the teen’s feet and its ankles. He rolled the gasping, helpless youth on his back so that horrified green eyes could watch the leather and steel shod boots crash down smashing the kneecaps, fracturing the tibias and finally crashing the pelvis.

The teen nearly fainted from shock when Krueger placed one steel toe over the young, cum filled testicles, one at a time, slowly grinding down until in unbelievable agony each youthful orb was crushed flat into a bloody jell. Gripping the broken screaming body by the scruff of the neck and the mangled cock and balls, he tossed the limp form across a waist high trophy case. The young creature whimpered as shattered bones and nerves grated throughout his quivering body.

Krueger released the Velcro fastener on the front of his black SWAT style jump suit. His cock thrust rampantly forward, directly in line with the doomed teen’s tight, near virgin ass. A pretty eighteen year old virgin is almost a contradiction in terms—except for those few sequestered slaves being preserved for religious events or some of the New Order’s more sadistic rituals.

While it is an exaggeration to say that every SSS trooper had to have at least a ten-inch cock, Krueger’s thirteen-inch man-fucker certainly reinforced that tale among those who witnessed this day’s rape and lived to tell about it.

Krueger slipped spiked leather bands over his mammoth cock. He smeared a handful of blood and cum from the youth’s torn ball sack over his thick purple cock-head. Digging his powerful fingers into pink teenage ass flesh, he rammed himself in deep and fully. He felt the razor edged studs aid his cum weapon in tearing and shredding the hot, wet bowels. He could feel the youth’s prostate being destroyed, his cock being clamped down on by smashing muscles. The young man bucked, writhing in absolute agony as though he was experiencing a nonstop orgasm. Then Krueger twisted the young man’s head back and around with one hand until the neck strained on verge of snapping. Bending forward the man gripped one ear in his sharp, even teeth. With a wrench of his head Krueger tore the delicately formed organ off. The youth shrieked again at this new mutilation. Spitting out the torn piece of skin and cartilage, and repeated the process, the teen whimpering and pleading in the certain knowledge that he was to be the first of three hundred young males, classmates who would die at the hands of the New Order this day.

Krueger felt his own destructive orgasm building in the dying, pain wracked body beneath him. With one hand he pinned the slave’s body bearing down between the naked shoulder blades. With his right hand Krueger drew his combat knife—an eighteen inch, five-pound blade—it was nearly a short sword such as Gladiators used in the new arenas. As his cock pumped and pumped the man swung down hard and the knife brutally sliced right through the soft white neck. The teen’s head rolled across the floor, green eyes staring and mouth forever frozen in a scream of exquisite agony.

By now virtually all the selected males had been moved out of the building, except for a cluster of young Orientals huddled nude and trembling by the office door.

Picking up the severed head, Krueger addressed Mr. Assing,“ Mister Principal, kindly assemble all citizens and remaining males in the gymnasium.”

“Yes, of course!” The man was breathing rapidly, his body wet with excitement. The principal gazed hungrily at the five smooth skinned, slender teens—their families had been long suspect in the community.

Two soldiers were driving them down the connecting hallway with short sharp leather whips. Blood already flowed on their honey gold skin. They seemed to be in even more shock and fear than their Caucasian classmates. Had they not always been the better students, had they not strained to perfect their bodies in the culturally appropriate sport of gymnastics, had they not rushed to inform on any classmate voicing antisocial views or the revolution?

The Principal heard one cry out in horror as they disappeared through the double gym doors. What did the soldiers have planned for them? He was about to follow when there came the sound of rifle fire out front. “Carry on Mr. Borgia,” he snapped at his Vice Principal. The Vice Principal grabbed the nearest males by their scrotums, squeezed viciously and began leading the exodus to the gym. The Principal entered his office where he could see out onto the front lawn.

Two adult males lay in pools of blood by the edge of a small crowd of male townspeople. Soldiers were dragging younger men from the crowd and lining them up on the circular drive as two more cattle trucks drove away. A tank like vehicle was beginning to move.

The Principal wondered what that gorgeous Sergeant had in mind. Was he going to.... Then it hit him—he shuddered in anticipation, a new warmth growing in his groin.

Krueger stepped out into the morning sun. There were maybe a hundred civilians, all men, gathered around the school gallows. Males normally try to maintain a low profile when the SSS was hunting. Still at least thirty, either fathers unable to stay away while their sons were in mortal danger, or thrill seekers, had gathered. A few shouted in anger as they saw sons being led away to their deaths. One wearing the lapel pin of a NOW affiliated lawyer actually screamed, “You can’t do this! My son is no fuck slave for you Pigs!” Another tried to charge directly at Krueger at the sight of the raised head in the man’s fist.

“Shoot the traitor and the idiot, Chambers,” Krueger ordered to the RTO behind him. Two shots rang out and two men fell dead—their brains utterly blasted by the hypersonic shock wave of the Flechet rounds passing through their skulls.

That remark about the NOW lawyer being a traitor could get Krueger killed. Of course his real identity as a former Major (promoted to Lieutenant Colonel) of the old regular army (former DELTA force) would probably get him killed eventually anyway.

The males suddenly fell into silence. Krueger had long understood that sudden, precise violence tended to have that effect. The British had learned it in Malaysia a half century earlier—start firing wildly and a crowd or army would stampede in a rage, but shoot specific targets and the mob or army suddenly realized they could be next. Fear not anger—that’s the trick. Beyond the knot of civilian males the soldiers, the soldiers kept the citizens well under control. Suddenly the males realized they were surrounded by nearly twenty heavily armed, battle-hardened soldiers, along with several armed vehicles.

“Ten of them!” Krueger ordered in a loud clear voice, which carried over the entire three-acre expanse of lawn and drive though he did not really seem to be shouting.

Numbly, ten males allowed themselves to be pulled from the crowd. Plasticuffs secured their wrists, feet and knees. Flashing knives stripped them of their clothes and identities as they were lined up along the concrete drive.

A squad leader waved two of the remaining cattle trucks away to make room. The naked ad bound men were forced to face the crowd of remaining men. Three soldiers moved along the line with hooked serrated blades. While a soldier held the victim steady, another yanked the cock and balls out as far as they would go while the other severed away the male’s manhood and pride. Each male collapsed, screaming in agony and shame in a spreading pool of his own blood—they would bleed to death, but not soon enough. One slightly stronger or more terrified than the others became aware of the Bradley firing up its great FMC diesel and bearing down on the line of writhing men.

“Oh God, please!” they were screaming. “Shoot us! In the name of pity, shoot us!” The males begged and writhed as the first of their number was ground under the twenty-ton vehicle’s tracks. They tried to get to their feet, they tried to roll clear or crawl in their bonds—to no avail—one by one they were crushed under the mechanical juggernaut.

The crowd of men went wild, breaking through the deployed guards, and fell on the remaining civilians in a frenzy of blood lust. Krueger turned his back on the screaming cluster of men. The last cattle ctrucks and armed car escorts left leaving only the massive Bradleys lined up before the building entrance.

The Sergeant Major entered the school again. A visibly shaken Mr. Assing came out of his office, took one look at Krueger’s face and hastened down the connecting corridor trough which the remaining faculty staff and students had fled. Krueger and his RTO followed him. In the gymnasium, the folding bleachers had been pulled out and were packed with staff and remaining students. The four large skylights had been opened full as were the big exterior doors at the back where a soldier stood rifle at port arms. The central portion of the floor was being ripped away leaving a clear area of concrete below the wooden decking. Soldiers from two of the four squads were taking their turns at the glistening tawny bodies of the five oriental students selected for execution. The other two squads stood guard, and awaited their turn. Krueger and his RTO stood quietly anticipating their own upcoming pleasures. The teens were screaming and bleeding as their well-raped bodies were dragged across the jagged concrete toward the collapsible metal frames that had been set up and on which they would be spread-eagled. In the stands men and boys were ripping the clothes off one another in a frenzied orgy of sadistic lust as had happened outside—the kind of things that happened at Roman arenas.

Male teachers and students screamed in chains, their cocks pumping in their degrading rape. A young teacher broke from the howling mob. He tried to go past Krueger and impaled himself onto Krueger’s knife. The man gasped in shock as the blade flashed in shallow sweep over its lower belly. Krueger grabbed a fist full of entrails and ramming the blade up under the man’s ribs, neatly severing the liver and puncturing one lung and wedging against a back rib. He half pushed, half carried the demented, dying man back in front of the bleachers. The eye of every lust crazed student and adult was fixed on Krueger and his agonized prisoner. The young teacher gazed at his former students with bloodshot eyes while blood streamed from his nose, ears and mouth.

A cheer broke out from the crowd and another low moan from the males as they realized that Krueger had twisted the handsome head on its muscular neck completely around, killing the savaged male instantly. Withdrawing the knife, Krueger turned at the sound of renewed shrieking from the Orientals. They were being hung from iron hooks projecting from the metal x frames, their twisting agonized forms spread in agony.

Krueger and his RTO advanced blades in hand, on the terrified students. Was he going to disembowel them too? The high keening wail of this particular form of torture started up as cold steel slid along and under golden flawless skin. They were being flayed alive. The hysterical teens could not believe what was being done to them until they felt the flesh being peeled from their bodies. They couldn’t resist, they couldn’t escape—they couldn’t even die! All the five tortured animals could do was suffer in absolute alertness of the hellish agony. Blood, vomit, shit and piss spurted from the demented things—they were no longer human.

Finally, a crowd pushed into the gym from outside, bundles of firewood in hand growling beastly at the nude enslaved students and staff members in the bleachers. Krueger motioned his men to fall back and out through interior passageways.

As his Bradley drove away, crushing the gallows and its still living burden, Krueger saw smoke rising from the skylights. If the other platoons had performed as effectively the government now had a thousand lush and hot slaves, and this suburb would tear itself apart in an orgasmic riot. He only hoped the productive males would lay low until they could be swept up for the labor battalion.

***​

 

[slitneck1]

great story man

 

[callmecaleb]

How do I sign up?