Jem's Bad Week (Part 3)
#4 of The Jem Snippets
The Jem Snippets
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
"The Jem Snippets" is a cooperative set of stories written by myself (Kkatman) and Portentous1975.
Set in a futuristic boot-camp, these stories chronicle the ongoing sufferings of Jem's breasts. The original snippets were very short and deliciously cruel bits written by Portentous1975. With his permission, I continued the tales in a slightly more story-like format, with snippet-like mini-chapters. I hope to post these in that format. The project is ongoing.
Fair warning and disclaimer: these stories are wicked, and the hurt that befalls Jem's breasts is brutal. Due to fantastical sci-fi elements, there is no blood or real damage. Likewise, this story involves no yiffing. Remember: this is fantasy, not reality. And in fantasy, sexual torture is hot!
Enjoy!
P.S. I know this "chapter" is particularly short. I'll make up for it with the next one. ^.^
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Jem lay curled up and whimpering in the back of the transport, unthinkable breast-pain raping her mind in rhythm to her heartbeat. The squad had worked into the night, clearing every mine from the arboretum, detonating each one under the safe cover of her tits.
She had no memory of her squad mates hauling her back to the transport and tossing her in. The torture blurred her world into a nightmare storm of hurt from which she was only now finding her way back. That storm was now echoed in the night sky above. She thought she could hear the muffled sounds of thunder through the constant buzz in her ears, and the rain was quickly soaking her to the bone. But being cold and wet were mere footnotes in the epic of her pain.
The transport jerked to a stop, sending a bolt of breathtaking pain through her chest that left her gasping. She briefly entertained the fantasy that they were dropping her off at the infirmary, but she knew better. As she heard others getting out, she thought of her bunk in the barracks, and how much she wanted to just lie there, riding the storm out. She tried to move, but her body lacked the strength. Her squad was scheduled for a day of leave tomorrow, so Jem knew her pain suppressors wouldn't be reactivated until the morning after. She had been looking forward to going off-base, but instead she would spend the whole day in her bunk, hurting badly. She whined, hoping someone would carry her to her bed.
They grabbed her by her legs, her bound arms and her tail. They hauled her out of the transport and dropped her unceremoniously on the wet grass. On her front. When her boobs hit the ground, the impact knocked her fully back into the nightmare storm again. When she emerged, somewhere between a minute and an eternity later, she had been rolled onto her back; the first thing to swim into focus was the flagpole jutting into the sky above her, rain slashing through the beam of the spotlight that kept it illuminated at night. The metal cables clanged emptily against it in the wind.
She was naked, soaked to the bone, and around her were the black silhouettes of several of her squad members, pinning her down. She couldn't recognize them in the dark and the pain, but she somehow recognized the paint can one of them was opening. High-visibility nano-metal paint, designed to glow when charged. It was used to paint targets for nighttime target practice. She tried to fight back the screams of pain when they began to paint her breasts. She failed.
When they were finished, they took the metal cables from the flagpole and tied them around her breasts, pulling them tight, making her tits bulge obscenely and agonizingly. Then they began to pull her up the flagpole, her entire weight pulling against her bound, abused boobs. Jem didn't even try fighting back her howls of pain-drenched female suffering.
"Just thought you'd want to know," one of them yelled up to her as she was wrenched higher and higher. "Your dermal armor's electrical insulation has maxed... except in your girls, of course! Sergeant says we're in for a hell of a thunderstorm tonight!"