Semen Supplication Battery Bull

I locked the front door behind me and stepped out into the morning sun. It was a beautiful day. I walked across the patio and onto the sidewalk, and began the 5-minute walk to the designated bus pickup point.

"Good morning, Ray!" Mrs Granger next door had taken a break from watering her lawn to wave at me. I smiled and waved back at her, admiring her amazing body through a grey tank top and juicy black shorts.

What a MILF I thought to myself. How I'd love to shoot my cum all over her tits. Too bad I can't.

A few more streets down the road, I reached the pickup point.

"Morning Ray" my wingmate Brandon greeted me as he stood at the pickup. I greeted him with a firm handshake and repeated the gesture for several other lads.

Not ten minutes later the bus arrived, and all of us bustled up. I settled into a seat beside Brandon and popped in my earphones to nap for the hour-long journey.

Such was the start of the day for us as battery bulls.

Our job's actual title was Semen Supplier. That is, our semen is collected and processed for general use across various industries and markets. In our day and age, men's reproductive fluid had been harnessed as a miracle liquid, capable of being synthesised for almost anything, from medicine to beauty products to food & nutrition. With a huge demand for spunk, there was a need for men to meet that demand.

That was where guys like Brandon and I came in. After passing a full-day trial where a hot nurse had taken my genital measurements and subjected my manhood to a variety of sexual testing before extracted a huge load of my cum, I'd been deemed appropriate as a Semen Supplier, and I've been a 'battery bull' ever since; almost a year by now.

The pay wasn't exceptional, but the perks were splendid. We had healthcare and dental, leave benefits, and even special discounts at selected supermarkets and retail brands. And of course, we get paid to have orgasms.

But the job wasn't without restraints. There was the social stigma of having our private organs openly handled for business, and we had to make sure our bodies were always kept fit and strong, along with a strict diet to keep to.

But worst of all was the orgasm restriction. We were forbidden by contract to have an orgasm outside of work, even on weekends and off-days (not without filling in an approval form which took a few working days to process). In order to monitor this, we had a thin discreet sensor band strapped around the base of our testicles, which would alert our supervisor if it detected an unauthorised orgasm. This would lead to punishment, of course.

But overall, I loved my job. We worked for a huge multi-national corporation called Manderson Manufacturing, and we were the world's biggest industrial semen supplier. Our factory (or 'farm') was huge, but sadly that meant it was quite a distance away from civilisation. Thankfully the company chartered buses for us to get to and from work. Our farm had over a thousand regular battery bulls, and it processed gallons upon gallons of semen daily. I was happy to be part of that process.

"Okay, everybody off!"

I was jolted awake by the bus driver's yell, and I groggily got off my seat and joined the queue to dismount from the bus.

I hopped off the final bus step and gazed upon the large Semen Processing Factory in front of me. It was massive, measuring up to 3 or 4 full football fields.

We entered through the workers' entrance, where we deposited our belongings into designated lockers. With still about an hour before our first shift, Brandon and I joined our fellow wingmates for breakfast at the employee canteen, where I enjoyed a very affordable BLT sandwich.

Soon, it was time for work. We reported to the entrance of our milking wing (which was a long corridor with milking stations set up along the side, and a walkway in the middle) wearing nothing but a thin cotton robe.

A gorgeous blonde woman came to stand in front of us, wearing a red tank top, dark denim jeans, a white lab coat, and holding a clipboard.

"I trust you buys are ready for another day of milking?" Wing Supervisor Carter asked. We all echoed our enthusiasm, making her wince from the volume.

"Okay okay shut up" she laughed as our voices died down. "Now get in there, horny bastards."

The door opened and we all ambled in, heading straight for our milking stations.

As I approached mine, I saw there was yet another gorgeous woman standing there, in front of my station.

"Morning, Ms Leonne" I said with a smile. She was my station supervisor (each station supervisor oversaw 5 milking stations. 1 wing had 20 stations, which meant 20 bulls, 4 station supervisors, and 1 overall Wing Supervisor in every wing).

I placed my feet into the straps on the floor and secured myself down with velcro. Standing up again, I removed my robe and placed it on a hanger behind me, leaving me naked and exposed. Ms Leonne was admiring my body.

"You've been taking care of yourself, I see" she said, with a small grin.

"Only for you, Ms Leonne" I said.

She laughed before turning away, but not before I noticed the blush on her cheeks. Ms Leonne was rather new to the job, having been our Station Supervisor for only 2 months, and thus she still had an innocent side to her, which was only more apparent when surrounded by naked dudes.

Feeling pleased with myself, I turned round to pick up a small short tube which had a thin cable attached at one end, connecting into the wall behind me. This was an anal sensor, and it helped to detect changes in my body and to sense my arousal level, as well as how close i was to an orgasm.

These new models had a self-lubricating function, which meant we no longer had to dip them into a bottle of oil anymore. Instead, I pulled one of my butt cheeks to one side and gently slid the little device up my ass. I sighed as the familiar bulge made itself comfortable inside of me.

In front of me, a small light changed from red to green, signalling my anal sensor was ready to go.

I was ready now.

"Okay boys, you may begin erecting yourself" came Supervisor Carter's voice through a lapel microphone she was wearing . Upon that command, all of us bulls began to stroke our cocks in order to full erect them, making them ready for the next step.

Ms Leonne paused in front of my station and watched me jerking away. "Do you need some help there, Ray?" She asked.

"Would you be so kind?" I answered cheekily, and let go of my cock, poking my waist out as an invitation for Ms Leonne.

I was pleasantly surprised when Ms Leonne actually reached over and took my rod in her hand! I gasped as she began stroking me up and down, her small and gentle fingers feeling amazing on me. It wasn't long before I was rock hard.

"You look ready" she said, squeezing my shaft gently.

"All thanks to you, Ms Leonne" I said.

I saw her blush again, and she let go of my cock and continued her walk up and down the row.

"Damn, you got lucky" my wingmate bull Jordan leaned over and whispered. "I don't think she's ever touched one of us before."

"She likes what she sees" I replied smugly. Jordan punched me in the shoulder just as Supervisor Carter spoke out again.

"Clad yourselves, gentlemen."

And clad ourselves we did. That is, after donning a pair of sound-isolating-headphones,, we grabbed the device in front of us and pulled it towards us, such that the milking tube was at an ideal length to house our cock without us needing to lean forward.

The tube, or sleeve, looked very much like the kind that milks cows, only bigger. I slid my hard cock into the tube, and the device secured itself around me.

"Penis secured" said a mechanical female voice (whom we bulls had jokingly named Susan) through the headphones I'd already put on, as the sleeve's internal components adjusted themselves to the proportions of my cock. The sleeve felt warm and organic. Well, almost organic.

"Assume position" came Supervisor Carter's voice again - this time through the headset - and upon this command I put my hands behind my back and held onto a horizontal handle secured on the wall, making sure to align my hands with a pair of open cuffs which were too secured on the wall. Moments later the cuffs closed, locking and securing themselves around my wrist.

"Subject secured" said Susan, and I looked expectantly at Ms Leonne, who was standing in front of her 5 bulls and waiting for the next order. In her hand was an iPad, and it controlled all our milking stations.

Oh, how I would love for Ms Leonne to control me with more than that.

"Initiating countdown" Supervisor Carter said, and Susan began from five.

"Five, four, three, two, one..."

And on one, Ms Leonne tapped her iPad, and the milking began.

I gasped as the inside of the cock sleeve began to move. The cock sleeve had an inner lining made out of a synthetic material which was designed to feel as similar as possible to the inner walls of a woman's vagina. Behind the layer of simulated-pussy was 4 individual moving components: one along the base of the cock, another for the middle of the shaft, another right below the cock head, and the last was solely devoted to the sensitive tip. The balls were left hanging outside of the sleeve (although I'd heard that there were experimental milking sleeves with dedicated testicle stimulation pouches in development).

The cock sleeve would stimulate the penis by rotating each component individually, making sure to randomise parameters like speed, rotational direction, and even temperature. Susan was even playing soothing background music through the headphones to keep us bulls as relaxed as possible throughout the milking process.

But how could we relax when our cocks were like this?

The milking stations didn't just rub us off as fast as they could. No, the programming was smarter than that. It would always start slowly, making sure to start from the base of the cock before gradually starting up the other components, building up the sexual tension.

The goal was not to make us cum as fast as possible, but rather to make us cum as much as possible.

With the cock sleeve doing wonders on my cock, it wasn't long before I felt my climax coming.

But the machine felt it too, through sensors inside of the cock sleeve and through the anal sensor.

As I was about to reach my orgasm, a high BEEP sound chirped into me ear, and the cock sleeve slowed down it's stimulation. I moaned out loud as I was denied my orgasm. A few moments later Susan spoke:

"Penis primed. Beginning edging cycles."

And slowly the sleeve began increasing speed again. 'Primed' was the term given to penises that had reached peak-stimulation, and were on the border of cumming. Once a penis was primed, the machine would then begin to edge the penis repeatedly, in order to build up pressure in the testicles and arousal in the mind. This would go on for the entire shift, and at the end of the shift the machine would stimulate us to a full orgasm, where our semen output would be many times greater than if we had came upon initial stimulation.

Edging took a huge strain on the mind, however. And not every able-bodied male was able to take it. New bulls were put on a probationary period of one month, where they were given the option to drop out of the Semen Supplication Programme any time they wanted to if they felt they could not handle the continual orgasm denial. I'd know a couple of dudes who'd given up within a week.

But I absolutely loved edging. In fact, back before I had restrictions on cumming, I'd always want girls to tie me up and edge me for as long as possible. Some found it weird, others weighed in and took pleasure in seeing me squirm and moan. But it was thanks to this fetish that I was flourishing in this job.

Time flies when you're being edged, and today was no exception.

"Wow, you're on your fourth cycle already" came Ms Leonne's voice. I opened my eyes to see she was standing in front of me and watching me with cheeky eyes.

Like Supervisor Carter, Ms Leonne wore a lapel mic around her head, and she was channeling her mic through my headset (all supervisors had a mic that can channel their audio direct into a specific bull's headset, so that the bull won't hear the moans of the other bulls around them, and only the voice of the speaker).

"You doing okay?" she asked, a hint of concern in her voice.

I nodded, sweat dripping off of me, savouring every moment of my cock being massaged.

"Hang on okay, the break is coming soon" she said. I glanced at the clock behind her to see that it was a few minutes to Eleven. Even with the air conditioning, bulls were always prone to sweating due to the intense sexual stimulation, and it was a tiring and physically-demanding process. That was why there was always breaks in between shifts, and our first break was coming at 11am.

When the clock hit eleven, a short musical number played through our headsets, and the cock sleeves slowly ceased their stimulation. The suction on our cocks loosened, and we were able to pull our raging members out. Supervisor Carter happened to be watching me as I withdrew my raging boner.

"You look larger than before, Mr Lee" she commented. I shrugged as the cuffs behind me opened to release my hands.

"I always rise to the occasion, m'am" I said.

She chuckled, before turning to observe other bulls.

I glanced down at my cock to see it was throbbing hard and was indeed larger than usual. I guess the long hours of edging are finally bearing fruit I thought to myself as I sat down on a stool that was located right behind me. I took a long swig from the water bottle in a compartment beside me, and for the new few minutes I chatted with the other bulls around us, all remaining within our stations. The supervisors would join in the conversation too, and it was always the fact that fully-clothed females were walking around that kept me perpetually hard throughout the break.

"Okay, back to work lads!" Supervisor Carter clapped her hands a couple of times as an alarm sounded through the wing. The bulls began standing up and re-assuming position. I kept my water bottle back into its compartment and stood up.

"Wow, did your cock even get softer at all?" Ms Leonne commented as she walked past me, staring at my cock.

"Maybe a little?" I said. "But it's hard to get soft with you around, Ms Leonne."

She chuckled a little and walked on.

I slid my cock back into the sleeve and let the suction take me. Placing my hands back on the handle behind me, the cuffs closed and tightened once again, and the sleeve resumed its magic on me.

The cuffs were there as a restraining measure. Not that the supervisors were trying to control us like animals, but they didn't want any bulls losing control from the edging stimulation and accidentally wrecking their station. It had happened before, after all.

But for me, I just took it as a huge bonus that my hands and legs were being restrained. It was super hot, and it helped with my arousal. It never took the machine long to get me primed, and it wasn't until an hour later (and 7 more edging cycles) that I finally got my release.

"Five minutes remaining" Susan chirped into my headset. "Beginning extraction process."

The sleeve continued working my cock, and my moans only got louder and louder. But this time, as I neared my peak, the sleeve did not slow down. Instead it kept a steady pace on my sensitive organ, in particular on my tip. I could feel the tip of the sleeve spinning against my cock head, and I was practically drooling from the pleasure.

Finally, I crashed over the edge, and I let out a loud groan as my cock released it's first load of cum.

The sleeve instantly began to suck in my semen, which I knew ran through a series of tubes and pipes which would prepare all of the bulls' collective semen for processing. The machine began to press down on my cock, from the base of the shaft to the tip of my cock, coaxing out as much cum as possible. My body began to shiver as the pleasure overtook me, and im pretty sure I lost my vision for a few seconds there.

But slowly, the machine began to loosen up. I was breathing hard as the cock sleeve ceased it's suction on my cock, meaning that all my cum had been milked out.

"Extraction complete" Susan spoke into my ear. "Beginning clean-up."

I felt the cock sleeve fill with warm soapy water, and the sleeve began to massage my cock gently to work the soap all over my cock. I sighed in delight from the sensation. Once my cock was deemed clean by the machine, the water was drained out and the sleeve released it's hold on my now-deflating penis.

"Milking complete. Thank you, and please cum again."

I grinned from the pun as my hands were freed from the cuffs and I removed the headset. All around me bulls were doing the same, and there were expressions of relief and delight all around.

"Okay boys, get to lunch, go go go!" Supervisor Carter was ushering us out of the wing and on to our next agenda. Quickly unstrapping my feet, I grabbed my robe and joined the rush out of the wing, but not before Ms Leonne have me a playful slap on my bare ass.

Noon was our lunchtime. Our diet was strict and regulated, but somehow the cooks at our cookhouse always found ways to make even the simplest of meals delicious. Wearing our standard attire of box underwear, a robe, and sandals, we dug into our meal with gusto. After lunch, we had free time until 2:30pm to do whatever we wanted. The factory had a whole section dedicated to leisure, complete with a swimming pool, sports facilities, a movie theatre, computer stations, and a library. We always found things to do. If not, we could kill time by chatting with the lovely staff of the factory, which were always beautiful women (it was theorised that most staff other than bulls were female in order to increase the bulls' horniness as much as possible).

From 2:30pm to 3:30pm it was Physical Training, or PT. Our regular instructor was a thicc juicy brunette whom we called Ms Grey, and she never failed to lift our spirits with her bubbly personality.

"C'mon you bitches, don't get tired on me now!" She would yell into her lapel mic while leading us in jumping jacks.

Ms Grey's sports bra was doing its best, but there was no way it could fully prevent her massive tits from bouncing up and down. Needless to say many of us bulls were left with bulges in our boxer briefs at the end of the session.

The PT was tough, but not too tough that we were left exhausted. The real purpose of the PT was to increase the testosterone in our bodies to have a greater semen output for our afternoon milking.

At 4pm, we returned to the milking stations for our second and last milking session of the day. Our penises were subject to the same stimulation and edging as before, and again each of us bulls were milked dry by 5:30pm.

We were given another hour to wash up and grab our stuff before catching the bus back to town, our daily agenda all wrapped up.

And such was the life of a battery bull like myself.