#masc pov

[kabr0ztrousers]

There's this tired worn out guy and he can't help but fantasize about how nice it would be to be a hucow that spends his days getting his chest and dick milked, but everywhere only seems to hire women since it's much easier to induce lactation. He's sitting at this boring desk at work when a mysterious email shows up inviting him to trial run the newest technology in the hucow field!! When he arrives it's better than he can even fathom. Little does he know that this trial run is aired on TV for the entire world to see. People can send in money and control just how fast, slow, hard, or soft the machines milk or fuck him.

Kabr0z Writes episode 63: Reality TV

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: intox; dubcon; implements; restraints; humiliation; coercion; overstim;

A/N: This wasn't requested to be another Chitinid story, but there's only 2 continuities I have ongoing where hucows feature, and this is the one where it isn't an underground practice. I'm not against spinning out another continuity, but couching it where things are already set up helps streamline the process

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A month ago, the old library had been flattened. That was the last interesting thing that had happened in this city, and since then Mike's life has been an unending sequence of cubicle walls and tedious emails. He sighed. Half the world spirited away to be milked stupid, spending the entire remainder of their lives in chemically induced ecstasy to harvest their sexual fluids, and he managed to wind up behind a desk.

Not that Mike hadn't tried, he wrote to his city supervisor, even tried going above his head to regional governor, but was met with the same response every time: his best place was where he was, sat behind a desk so Chitinid anthropologists could study him as the drab monotony of the passing days slowly drove him mad. No wonder they got resistance cells, even if they didn't admit they existed. Of course, everyone knew there was a resistance, libraries don't get demolished via high-caliber autocannons because of termites.

A notification pinged in the corner of the screen Mike had been ignoring for the last hour. A half page of corporate lorem ipsum left behind by his train of thought. He opened the email and scanned it, finger poised over the delete key.

"You have been Selected" came the subject line

Weird, spam didn't exist any more. Nobody had anything to steal, companies didn't have any information to pillage, there wasn't even anything worth destroying. He read on

"Congratulations!

You have been selected to take part in a viability study involving human livestock material harvesting. You have been selected because either you have registered interest with your city supervisor, or your usefulness has been re-evaluated"

Well, he'd definitely made his interest well known. The rest of the email detailed where to go, what to bring, when to be there. One final sentence capped off the message, reminding the recipients that this is in fact not optional. Mike would either go willingly, or he would be taken. That's one way to deal with people not reading their email.

There wasn't much required to bring. Civilian travel documents, ID card, and the clothes on his back. Only he turned up, either everyone else was trying to hide or nobody else was selected from his area, either way, he probably wouldn't find out. Transparency was never at the top of their lists of priorities.

A gunship swung down low, the silent engine didn't even disturb the treetops as the vessel passed within inches of them. A voice came over the loudspeaker, a Chitinid speaking English

"Citizen Lewis, Michael. Identity recognised. Stand by for transfer"

Stand by for transfer. Sounds like he wasn't about to be atomised by weapons fire at least. Always a plus

A confinement field engulfed him. The tingling blue light surrounding you before the world disappeared, replaced with a holding cell. Exactly as expected.

There's no way to measure time in a Chitinid holding cell. The walls are blank, the lighting flat. This one didn't even seem to have a door.

Mike tried to sleep, without success. Chitinids never seemed to realise that blue light stops humans going to sleep, either that or they just didn't care. So he sat on the floor. The ship could be anywhere, going at any speed, there's no way to know. Mike had an idea of where it was probably headed, the human farms were kept in great facilities on the moon. They were visible even without a telescope, even if the ship traffic to and from wasn't.

The lights in the room brightened, the air becoming charged. The whole room was filled with a confinement field. The world flipped, beaming the hapless man down, completely nude, onto a metal table.

He couldn't move, he must have been sent from one confinement field to another. This didn't match what he'd been told about these facilities. Normally the people in these facilities would be held in huge spaces, hundreds of them plugged into machines with little to no conception of privacy. The room Mike found himself in was small, with only the table he was held to and only one device on the ceiling for company. A screen flickered to life, covering an entire wall of the room. Mike could see himself in it, the blue light of the containment casting him in a sickly pallor as the machine on the ceiling whirred to life.

A cup suctioned itself to his crotch as tubes carrying drugs attached themselves to his arms. A voice filled the room "Welcome, citizen, to the game of your life! You're live on channel nine!"

What?

A sound effect played. A number appeared on the screen and drugs pushed into Mike's bloodstream. He gasped as his skin flushed, turning red and immediately glistening with perspiration. Another noise, more drugs. His cock was achingly hard now, starting to throb into the tube surrounding it. The field parted his legs, bringing his knees upwards as a probe pushed against his asshole. Another noise and it pressed in, the cold metal making him wince before a tingling electric current ran through his prostate to the tip of his cock. The noises were speeding up, each one driving more drugs into him. Mike's chest became heavy, tits starting to bud, already leaking creamy milk as his cock dribbled precum.

A different noise, louder, more discordant, accompanied by the quick chattering of a Chitinid. The gentle electric pulsing from the probe in Mike's ass intensified for a moment. His hips bucked as his balls clenched, a rope of cum jetting from the tip of his cock. Then another, and another. The cocktail of alien aphrodisiac flowing into his body kept his cock hard and cooperative, but did nothing to stop his balls aching or the shaft burning as another noise jolted him again. His tits were leaking more now, probes fixing themselves to his nipples to collect the fluids, pumping and sucking the liquid out as the new tits kept growing at an alarming rate.

He groaned, partially from the exertions of the repeated orgasms, partly from the growing pains on his chest. The vocalisation caused a flurry of noises, the drugs hammering into his body causing him to twitch and convulse as a stream of thick cum pumped from his cock, getting thin and watery as his balls emptied out.

Mike's groans grew weaker, turning to wheezing sobs as the stimulation took its toll. His cock was still throbbing, trying to pump out ever more but nothing came, only the clenching of his drained nutsack sending painful lances through him.

The screen went dark. The stimulation stopped.

"Good show! Same time tomorrow!"

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Well, I'll admit I'd lost faith in this one at about the halfway mark but feel like I pulled it back at the end

As always, any requests, ideas, scenarios, lore questions, etc, send an ask. I try to answer non-request asks quickly but if you bundle a question or something with a req, it'll get answered when you get your story