Earths Last Judgement Ch 02

"The ship is your life," Corporal Greaves reminded him. "You have to become more comfortable in there than out here."

The man was hanging on the edge of the simulator pod. Oz nodded at him from the seat within, his hands wrapped tight against the joysticks.

"You find one target. You destroy it. You find the next. That's how this works. There may be a thousand things coming at you, friend and foe alike. But you focus on one target. You kill it. You move on. Understood?"

Oz nodded again.

"Learning through failure," Greaves said. "Let's go." He slapped at the control button.

The seat rumble forward as the pod sealed itself. There was a moment of darkness, and then the controls blinked to life. The view screen ahead of him flickered, and then showed the air field ahead of him, a perfect copy of the real thing.

The corporal's voice echoed around the pod, fuzzy from intercom static. "Take off pre-check. Let's go, private."

Oz worked his way down the list, reading off items as he verified them. "Cameras... not in order," he said, stopping suddenly. "Looks like the rear eight is out. Or, there's interference."

"What do you want to do about it?" the corporal, his voice giving away nothing.

Oz scrambled, trying to picture the training manual in his head, and the troubleshooting indexes.

"Running diagnostic now." When in doubt, reboot. The scan ran for a moment, then finished. The static still remained. "I think it's a cable loose."

"Can you see out of it?"

"Not well."

"Are you asking to scrap the mission?"

Oz weighed his options. It was some kind of protocol test. "Yes, sir. I want a mechanics check."

There was a long moment of silence. A sigh came through the intercom. "A good decision."

There was a click, and then the camera returned to normal. "Better now?"

"Yes, sir."

With the checklist complete, there was nothing left to do but to set the take off procedure in motion. The computer rolled him onto to track. At Command's word, he was sent rocketing forward down the runway.

The visuals might have been virtual, but the motion inside most definitely was not. Oz's body flattened into the chair as the force of take-off crushed against him. Before it had even settled in, an alarm was blurting against his ear. The sound of it was drowned out in the pressure that pounded through his ears. But something was wrong.

The floor trembled violently. There was a hard pull to the side, and then he was in a spiral. The world flipped upside down, then flipped again, spinning him wildly. The ground appeared and, with one final, violent shake, the lights were gone and the pod slid back open.

Oz unbuckled and crawled out on his elbows, vomiting onto the floor as he went. The training room was spinning around him, and he collapsed onto his back, shaking.

"Did you see what happened?" Greaves asked. He sounded far away.

Oz felt sick again as he tried to respond.

"Enemy clipped you as you left the ground. Did you hear them fire?"

"No," Oz grunted. He spat against the floor.

"And you never will. Listen for the alarms, check your screens, stay alert." The corporal watched him for a moment. "In this case, though, there was nothing to be done. Better get used to having your guts in your lungs and the world in freefall.

"It comes with experience. Fight through it, private."

Oz climbed to his feet. "Can we run it again, sir?"

"Absolutely."

By the third time, he was able to 'die' without getting sick. Either he was getting better, or his stomach was empty, he decided.

"No time for lunch," Greaves told them as they headed back down the hall an hour later. Their allotted time slot was complete and the floor outside the pod had been polished clean again.

"I made a list of chores that need to be done before we hit the gym," Greaves said.

He handed Oz a strip of paper. Laundry, polish boots, collect mail, it read. And that was only the start. Oz pocketed it and saluted as Greaves split off and headed toward the mess hall to eat.

Oz was lucky. He had impressed the man by pushing on, he could tell. Half the cadets in the training room had been driven to tears as their trainers bellowed into their ears. Some of them were being stripped and spanked in the open hall for their poor performances. More than one trainer had cut his new recruit loose entirely, and sent them off to work under someone else. Someone with more patience and lower standards.

But Oz realized he must not have impressed Greaves too much. If he had really done well, the man would have rewarded him.

It was only day one, though. There was time to get better, he reminded himself.

Oz ran through the chores quickly, ignoring his pangs of hunger. Between the previous day's workout, the sparring at night, and then a morning spent fighting controls in high gravity, his body was weak with hunger. The last item he had to do was to bring the mail in. He snatched it up and, when no one else was in the hall to see him, he sprinted at full speed back to the bedroom.

He was still sweating when Greaves returned. He had two other corporals in tow behind him.

"My God. He's a tiny thing," one of them said.

Oz put his back to the wall and saluted them all.

"Yes he is," Greaves said. "Private, you're to follow these men, do as they need, and return by fifteen-thirty."

"Yes, sir," Oz barked. He saluted again.

"Thanks for the business, boys," Greaves said to the two men.

Oz noticed for the first time that Greaves was carrying a new pair of boots in his hand, and a dog-eared book under his arm.

The two strangers spun and stepped out into the hall. Oz followed them out the doors of the 2B dormitory wing.

They didn't travel far, only one hallway separated their wing from Greaves'. They entered a room that seemed an exact copy of the corporal's, down the creaseless bed sheets and undecorated walls.

They were both shorter than Greaves, but broader. Both were shaved clean on their chins, with close crop buzz cuts on top. In their off-duty gray sweats, they looked nearly identical. They could have been brothers.

The men played odds and evens to decide who took him first. The blonder one won, and told Oz to lick out his ass. After some debate with the other man, the blonde retracted it.

The blonde instead had Oz climb into bed on his belly. He had his friend lay down on top of Oz and hold him still. When the man unzipped, he was already fully erect.

The friend held Oz's head still with both hands. The blonde fed his cock into the boy's mouth and pounded away with wild abandon. Ten strokes in, and the cock in Oz's mouth was spasming, spitting out its heavy load across the back of the boy's tongue. He rolled it around his mouth and let it drain down his throat.

The blonde collapsed against the wall and pawed at his face with his palms, looking stunned. Oz wriggled his ass against the man on top of him. The friend had been growing hard from the moment the blonde showed his cock.

He held Oz's face against the mattress and stripped the boy's pants and underwear down with one hand. He rubbed the head of his cock against the boy's hole until Oz bucked. Oz thrust backward at him, trying to force it inside.

"Not yet," the man chided. "Wait for him."

Oz lifted his eyes from the bed and saw the blonde man watching his friend. His bright red cock was only half-erect now as he tugged at it, trying to bring it back to life.

The man on top used his knees to spread Oz's thighs. After a few attempts at thrusting in, he connected with the right spot, and Oz's body trembled. He moaned as the man trust in with reckless need.

Oz was pulled upward onto all fours by the man inside of him. The blonde rushed over to join them.

"Open your mouth," the blonde said. He climbed onto the small bed to join them. Oz was already waiting for him with his tongue hanging out. He could taste the sweet slick of cum that still clung to the head.

They rode him back and forth. Oz could tell they had both wanted to go slow, but they were too eager to show restraint. It didn't take long before he was being slammed from one to the other, a wet sound issuing out with every thrust.

He couldn't tell which of them finished first. They both tugged at him with powerful arms, trying to hold him still, trying to bury themselves in deeper as they sprayed their loads.

The blonde man's seed trickled down Oz's tongue again, and the boy swallowed it greedily. The man behind him rocked against Oz's body, massaging out another spurt.

It was everything the academy had promised. These were two true warriors. They had chosen him to spar with, and had given him a bit of their power. He worked his tongue and the muscles of his ass, draining every last drop from them, teasing them until they collapsed onto the bed, panting for breath.

"If you would bend over the bed, I can use my tongue on you now, sir," Oz told them.

After a few minutes of recovery, and a little bit of help, they were able to get into position. They spread themselves open with their hands as they bent over the bed.

Oz spent the last thirty minutes of his allotted time slipping his tongue into their holes as they squealed into the sheets. It would help them recover their strength faster, from what he had heard. He left with a final salute to each of them.

Oz knocked at Greaves' door a few minutes later, his erection still jutting against his pants. The corporal sent him back to the showers to clean off. Oz nodded and left without another word.

With ten minutes left before dinner, Oz shut the bedroom door and waited at attention. He hadn't yet dressed himself again in his off-duty outfit.

"I wanted to thank you, sir. For earlier," Oz told him.

Greaves nodded. "You earned it. You did well in the simulator today. And those boys were desperate. It's not good for a man. They haven't had trainees to spar with in two rounds. They can't get their scores high enough."

Oz tried to hold back his grin. He knew it. He could tell those men had nothing on Greaves. They had barely lasted a few pumps each. Their arms had barely held him tight by the end of it. They weren't true warriors. They weren't like Greaves.

"Don't smirk," Greaves snapped. "Those men are the ones out there on the front lines. They could be dead tomorrow. They're fighting the fight while I stay back to instruct you. That's worthy of a bit of fun."

"Understood. Sorry, sir," Oz said. "And... would you like to spar, sir?"

"Later," Greaves said, moving toward the door. But he came to a quick stop.

He glanced over the boy and frowned. "Well..." he said, and he rubbed at his chin.

"Maybe we do. Get against the door."

Oz gripped the metal frame of the door above his head and held tight to it. He heard the sound of Greaves' clothes dropping to the ground behind him.

The man's hands wrapped around Oz's chest slowly. The ring of the boy's asshole pulsated in anticipation. His cock jutted against the door as he waited for it.

He grunted like an animal as the man pushed inside of him.

Greaves took his time, stretching every inch of the boy's insides wider. Soon, his powerful body was pumping faster. Oz was still slick with the other men's seed. The boy had made sure not to accidentally wipe any drop of it away in the shower. It had been trickling out of him before Greaves pushed inside, but now the man's cock was scraping it out in a hurry.

Every muscle in Oz's body pulled tight. The breath was pushed from his lungs. He gasped and screamed as his hands fell away from the door, trembling wildly.

Greaves held Oz tight as the boy came, soaking the door in hard sprays of semen. The muscles of Oz's body tightened against the shape of Greaves' cock. They boy had thought he was done, and then he sprayed again.

"Look at you," Greaves panted in his ear. "You're becoming a real warrior now."

Greaves pressed him into the door. The wetness that Oz had left across it splattered across the boy's legs. The man held him still and pounded out the last of his own need.

They went to dinner without cleaning themselves. Oz ate in silence, trembling as each drop of the man's seed seeped out of him. He hardly noticed the others around him, and the sullen looks on their faces.

After eating, Greaves had him run on a treadmill until the last of his energy was spent. A trail of spent cum had dribbled its way down the back of the boy's leg and into his sock.

Oz didn't complain. And, as a reward, Greaves let him sleep in the bed, cuddled underneath him.

"I go on patrol tomorrow," Greaves whispered after lights out.

Oz blinked, having drifted half to sleep.

"I might need you after. I might not. Depends how it goes."

Oz nodded. He couldn't think of what to say to that.

"Flight simulator's all yours until eleven, after the chores are done. Stay on programs one and two. I'll see your scores when I check back in," Greaves said, stroking the boy's hair. "If you pass in the top thousand, I'll give you a reward."

"Really?" Oz said, turning in the man's arms.

The man gave a grunt of amusement, then pushed his tongue into the boy's mouth. He pulled on Oz's cock without ever taking his lips away. It didn't take long. Oz knew he wasn't strong enough yet.

In only a moment, his body was bucking against the sheets. Only a few streams of cum spilled out onto Greaves' hand. The man wiped it off onto Oz's leg.

He still had a long way to go.

Oz pressed his back up against the corporal's belly, and the man wrapped a leg and an arm over him. Oz was asleep half a breath later.