Thus Ronan found himself naked, collared and chained trudging along with hundreds of other males, despairing and deeply embarrassed as their new masters goaded them on with what could best be described as cattle prods.
The aliens were merciless. No allowance was made for the humans need to relieve themselves. The guys around Ronan had to furtively take a leak or a dump whenever they could hold on no more. They often found themselves dragged up and subject to multiple electric shocks to their bare arses.
The aliens themselves were hidden beneath their high tech body armour, but judging by the movements of their helmet visors they seemed to pay worryingly inordinate attention to the lads manhoods, swinging away as they were forced to march. Ronan had always been proud of his chunky Irish tool. But this situation gave him more than pause to regret it's meaty, long gaelic magnificence. Perhaps these aliens kept their own equipment in a different manner?...Or maybe they were just looking for a particularly vulnerable spot to exploit in disciplining their new thralls.
The journey to the processing centre was tough. Bare naked, forced to march through undergrowth as well as over urban pavements and roads, the boys were subject to a million little cuts and injuries. When they arrived at the processing centre, they were driven into massive shower areas and hosed down. To their collective relief, they were then passed through a strange tunnel-like device that miraculously healed all their wounds and made them feel as good as most of them hadn't in a long time. Then, it was time for processing.
Ronan had noticed that this centre seemed to be dealing exclusively with males. From mid thirties down to late teens, men and lads of all colours were being subject to invasive inspections by strangely garbed alien operatives. Their testicles especially were being scrutinized. Some sort of metal band was fixed around their meat and veg and only then were the captives taken aboard the waiting holding decks of the vast alien spaceship which had descended.
Ronan, having thus been thoroughly poked about with by the aliens and had his tackle collared like some dumb livestock was pressed aboard the ship, the conditions were cramped. He was squeezed in, knob to arse cheek, between naked lads and dudes, all sweating and moaning as they were taken from Earth to...who knew...?
Ronan pressed up against the cute pale arse of a pretty black haired youth a couple of years younger than he. He had never previously had any remote attraction to guys. Not that he had acknowledged anyway. But the situation was having a weird effect. His tool was uncontrollably rising at the proximity to such a pretty male with a firm, smooth arse and tight, sweaty orifice, coupled with the heady whiff of musky man scent filling the air...
This was disconcerting...
