Travis knew it was too late, but he was already inside the gate.
Sweat dripped down his pits into his tight grey tank top and stained the edge where it tucked into the tight Wranglers, cinched up with a brown belt and a big rodeo buckle won back in high school. The wet tank revealed his smooth skin spread tightly over his wrestler’s build, still white despite the days of drinking out on the lake that summer.
His thick striated pecs were topped with large flat nips while his arms highlighted the thick triceps and veined bicep from years of wrestling training. A light sheen of golden hair fuzzed his forearms to match the tight buzz cut on his sweaty head topped with a worn camo ball cap.
Travis looked once more at the card he had been given a few days before. Just looking at it made his cock jump:
Unlock your true potential. Challenge yourself, dive deep, and become the man you want to be. Wrestlers and Footballers preferred. A Life changing experience. DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company
Followed by a handwritten password for the company website.
He had just left the big Bass Pro Shop down in Manteca when a dark uniformed man had approached with a smile. The slick fast talk had not distracted Travis from looking over the muscled, bearded Daddy who proffered the card. He said he was looking for models for a new hunting lifestyle magazine. A lean, muscled biker with a drooping trucker mustache and dark glasses had accompanied the first man, constantly scanning the entrance for other prospects while the Daddy spoke.
Travis turned away from the gate, the armed and booted guard still staring back at him, and walked slowly toward the huge metal barn.
It was set at the base of a short gravel drive, hidden from the road by tall arching oaks set in acres of golden dry grass. In the distance the Trinity Alps still showed some white snow on their blue summits even though the rolling oak studded foothills were shimmering in ripples of intense summer heat.
The barn had a large door, guarded by another armed man, clad totally in a deep blue SWAT style uniform, a semi automatic slung over his shoulder, his own thick muscles barely contained by the tight tee under the armored vest. All around the barn were dusty pickup trucks, the sort seen on every back road around this dry, sun baked county. But there seemed to be something different, something wrong.
Travis made it to the barn door, the noontime heat radiating off the hard packed dirt in waves. The guard, his face obscured by a dark helmet shield, simply jerked open the heavy sliding door.
Travis stepped into the dark, cool interior of the barn. Fans whirred, pumping chill air into the massive dim space. A circle of men had their backs turned to him staring at something in the center of the barn. The door rolled shut behind him. Travis stood for a moment in the dark; no one seemed to have noticed him, when he heard the first sounds. It was a deep, heavy panting followed by a grunting moan. It was coming from the center of the circle of men. As Travis moved forward, the men seemed familiar, like men you would see at the local cattlemen’s association meeting, clad in Wranglers, tee shirts, long sleeve plaid shirts, caps, and cowboy hats. Some young, some older with beards and moustaches, many large, strong, and tough.
As he stepped up to the circle, one man, the biker from the day before, turned, and motioned him closer. Travis took the time to take in his lean, muscled arms, and the thick veins in his hairy forearms, the brownish red mustache, and the intense green eyes. The man was wearing a deep blue SWAT bdu’s like the guard outside and a tight tank top over his deep tanned body and firm abs. Heavy, dirty brown boots scuffed the floor as he stepped aside and drew the blond muscle jock closer into the circle.
The center of the floor was lit from above by a powerful white spotlight, where a large bench press had been set up complete with a weight bar and many 45-pound plates loaded on.
Travis caught his breath and his skin prickled at what he saw.
Bound to the bench press was a muscled, 25-year-old former football player shining with sweat. The boy’s massive smooth, tanned body was bound to the press, wrists shackled to the weight bar, ankles spread and locked to the feet of the press. A heavy Velcro strap was cinched down across his waist, just above the base of his cock, another right above his massive spread pecs at the nip line. His shoulder length blond hair was matted with perspiration. An O-ring gag was clenched in his mouth and drool dripped down into his pecs and down his stretched 8 pack towards his erect cock.
Travis stared but seemed unable to move even as the lean man gripped his shoulders with unusually strong hands. The captive’s eyes seemed glazed and stared upward into the intense light.
Travis watched as the bound muscle boy before him flexed and grunted deeply again, more drool and sweat dripping off his spread eagled body as it strained against the metal shackles. Attached to the jock’s stiff cock was a vacuum tube that was quietly pumping at his tool. The wires from an anal probe could be seen between the jock’s legs, where they exited his tight asshole.
“Uhhh ungghhh ah unh” he grunted and his head lolled from side to side on his shoulders. His cock jerked and his thighs flexed as he began to futilely pump his crotch upwards into the vacuum milking machine. The jock’s nipples swelled as his chest stretched against the heavy strap, more drool and sweat splattered to the floor.
The jock grunted even more loudly again and began to buck and tremble, his back arching and his head thrusting back as he moaned more and more, his thighs thrashing from side to side.
The men all around stirred, looking intently at the bound boy, many writing notes on tiny slips of paper gripped in their hands.
He tried to bellow but the gag prevented anything but a gargled moan as the tube filled with hot white cum. The jock flexed and grunted more as the vacuum tube continued to work his sore member mercilessly. A nearby guard reached forward and adjusted the tube down over the captive’s cock and the jock thrashed his head from side to side trying to beg for mercy. The guard stepped away and the tube began to pump more quickly as the jock sank back into the bonds as his dick was forced to erection again by its action.
The lean man came in close to Travis’ ear and spoke softly.
“You know him, don’t you? He was the all-star line backer from Corning High. He has been in training for about 3 months. He is ready to move to his new assignment.”
Travis looked at the man with a mix of horror and excitement.
The lean man pulled Travis away from the scene as the group of men began to chat among themselves, closing in to look over the bound boy now flexing again as another load of cum was about to be forced out of his massive body. The two walked over to a spot in one of the huge bays of the barn, lit by a smaller white spot light.
“Let me introduce myself, Travis. I am Zach Starr, chief training manager here at DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company. I was there the day we recruited you and I will be guiding your through the entire process that will unlock your true male potential.”
Zach reached into his pocket and gripped something. He continued.
“If you decide to join our training program, you will eventually be just like your football friend there. A true prime beef muscle man ready for the best life has to offer. I know you want it, otherwise you would not be here. We have noted your repeated visits to the special URL we gave you on the card.”
Travis felt his face redden with embarrassment. He had spent nearly every waking hour devouring the stories and descriptions of muscled men on the website while he drained his cock repeatedly into his hand.
Zach leaned in very close, his green eyes gleaming. Travis felt hypnotized; his eyes were getting blurry and watery in the strong light.
“Those men you see back there are not just local ranchers, they are Masters who come here specifically to find prime muscle for use. Muscle like you. Once you have been trained, you will go through a similar experience and find your new owner.”
Zach looked back at the group and gripped the boy’s wide shoulders very tightly.
“Look, they have made their bids”
Travis was pushed back toward the group. A muscled guard wearing a face shield came up from behind and gripped his left arm, Zach holding the right, one hand still in his pocket.
The men were dispersing from around the bound jock that lay slumped in the shackles, white cum dripping out of the vacuum tube, mingling with the puddle of sweat on the concrete floor.
One rancher, a massive bearish man with a thick beard, was writing out a check to another uniformed man. As they shook hands, two guards stepped forward, unshackled the blond boy, and pulled him off the press, dragging him toward the barn door where a diesel pickup rumbled in the boiling afternoon heat. The bearish man followed but not before pausing in front of Zach and Travis.
“Looks like the valley grows good strong boys. Let me know when this one is ready!”
“Enjoy your new meat!” said Zach.
Zach and the guard turned toward the third uniformed man.
“Dane, here is Travis, he finally made it!”
Dane stepped into the light. He was older and larger than Zach with short dark hair flared with white at the sideburns and streaked into his short stiff beard jutting from his chin. His look seemed to suggest Tom of Finland masculinity mixed with the classic calm of a Pharaoh, carved in stone in some Egyptian temple. His dark blue uniform was pressed to his muscled bear physique and thick black bands of ink circled both his forearms. His black boots shone in the light, barely scuffed by dust.
“Travis, good to meet you!” said Dane, extending a rough hand toward the boy. Travis shook his hand as best he could with a firm grip still held by both men at his sides.
“We are looking forward to training you and have gotten a great deal of insight from your visits to our website. I am sure we will have a great time together.” He said it almost like Travis was being invited to a picnic instead of being conscripted into muscle bound slavery.
Dane turned toward the guard.
“We have another bidding group coming in about 30 minutes. Make sure the displays are clean and ready. We will be using the Mexican, #36 and the tall one, #49. For #49, we will also need the “Endurance” module, so make sure it is charged. Take Travis to Processing with Mr. Starr.”
“Zach, make sure Travis is ready for inspection in two hours, we will want to work with him ourselves tonight.”
“Of course!” said Zach with an almost evil grin, gripping and shaking the muscled jock. Travis cock leapt in his tight Wranglers even as the fear began to mount inside his head as the men gripped and tugged at his arms
As Zach lead Travis away into the darkness, he paused a moment.
“I got exited and nearly forgot! You need to take your pill.”
The guard grabbed both of the blond boy’s strong muscled arms and pulled them back hard, Travis opened his mouth to yell but Zach was too fast.
He forced the pill into the boy’s mouth and gripped his throat to force him to swallow. The guard yanked Travis’ arms more to pull him deeper into the barn. As Travis began to pass out, he glimpsed the other bays of the barn, each one guarded by a barred gate. Behind each one, a muscled slave stood, locked at hands, feet and neck by metal shackles. Travis was about to find out the harsh lessons of training at DZ Ranch.
His sore asshole gripped the electro probe, pulling it deep into his hole with each new pulse of power. Sweat dripped down the probe’s wires extending out of his ass and onto the black waterproof case, then down to the broad wood floor below.
The crossed webbing straps barely supported Travis’ muscled body stretched out spread eagle horizontal to the floor by his wrists and ankles. A chain attached to a hood supported his head while another chain stretched his swollen, tormented balls away from his cock. A breathing tube extended from a thick leather gag and a padded blindfold and ear protection completed the bound jock’s isolation.
Travis had long stopped screaming with every new torment he had endured, now he just panted into the breathing tube and moaned with the cycle of electro pulses to his hole. Cold muscle jock cum pooled in the ripples of his white-skinned abs from the repeated loads that had been forced out of the new recruit since he had been dragged to the private rooms of Zach and Dane, owners of the DZ Ranch.
Zach was a lean muscled man about 30 with intense green eyes and a thick trucker mustache. He was stripped down to a leather jock, boots, exposing his wiry muscled body, and sun burnt skin to the cool air pouring into the high ceiling room. He fingered the remote control for the anal probe, delighting in the jerks and grunts from Travis.
Dane looked up from across the room.
“Let his hole rest for about an hour. I want to take this one myself,” said the bearish Dane. He was sitting at a heavy wood desk centered along a wall of glass windows. He was totally naked except for heavy black boots and black leather gauntlets covering his thick hairy forearms. A dark stiff beard jutted out from his otherwise clean-shaven face. Two muscled guards, standing rigid, totally naked, flanked him. One held a drink in his palm, the other a file of slave portfolios being considered. Both men sported impressive erections from watching the last few hours of brutal erotic torture Travis had endured. Each guard had joined the tiny group of men at the ranch after they themselves had experienced a similar initiation and months of intense hard training.
The ranch hosted four guards, picked carefully from the scores of men who sought to be trained each year at the ranch. They were strong, muscled, smart, trusted, and above all: obedient.
The ranch stretched out beyond the windows behind Dane. Rolling acres of golden grass and twisted oaks disappearing into the background of dark mountains sharply outlined in the hot dusk of far Northern California. A light moved across the hills close in where the crew of trainee slaves was returning from a work detail. The slaves were herded back to the barn by the two other guards where they would be caged for the night.
“I want him to begin to imprint with me so that we can use him for our special missions in the local towns. Once he is trained we might find him to be a valuable tool here.”
Zach flicked the control once more from behind his back, and the jock growled loudly, flexing and thrashing hard before falling still. Zach grinned and chuckled.
“Bad, veerry very bad!” said Dane with a smile. “Come here, boy.”
Zach trotted over and Dane grabbed him tightly, holding him on his lap. They kissed deeply.
As Zach looked into Dane’s dark eyes, Dane smiled back and said, “I have to admit something. I have been planning a special treat for the crew and the trainees. I want to use this new one in a different way then usual. Come with Me.”
The two guards whose cocks jerked and dripped in anticipation did not miss Dane’s words. They both knew what the “special treat” was and were eager to get started. The guards stepped forward, releasing the massive blond jock’s limbs from the restraints. His arms and legs dropped heavily and his full weight stretched the webbing sling. The guards dropped the sling to the floor and gathered up the limp muscle boy.
A few minutes later the guards were in front of the huge barn, pulling open the door to reveal the dark interior. The air was cool but ripe with the smell of men, sweat and cock juice. Along one wall, four caged off bays held one muscled slave each. Some had been at the ranch only a week or two, some months. All were still dirt streaked and sweaty from the long hard day out on the ranch in the intense late summer heat.
Dane pressed a button on the small remote in his pocket and a strong spotlight flicked on in the middle of the barn floor. In the strong white light, a bench and some restraints could be seen. Travis was dragged to the light and held up while one guard grabbed his arms and locked them in to shackles hanging down in the darkness. The other guard waited at his feet until Dane used the remote to draw the nearly unconscious hooded jock meat up until the chains stretched him. His massive body was now in a hanging spread eagle position. Then his legs were spread apart and locked to shackles attached to the floor. Then a modified sawhorse turned into a fuck bench was dragged forward, just within reach of the moaning, spread-bound jock’s cock. Dane stepped around the boy’s body, the strong light shining off his large dark nips and the soft fuzz of golden hair running down from the center of the thick stretched pecs to the base of his cock. More golden hair gleamed on the top of each round, full, ass cheek. As Dane stroked the boy’s lower back, his cock jumped to life in response to his new Master’s firm touch.
Dane turned to Zach after glancing down the line of cages, “Each slave is ready for the special treat. I added stimulants to the water they drank when they were brought back from training. It should be in effect by now.”
Zach and Dane motioned the guards to the third cage down the row. One of their favorite trainee slaves, a short lean pup with inked sleeves on his wiry forearms. Number 51 was totally shaved from head to balls, but his smooth light skin was darkly stained with lash marks from the hard training he had received for the last few months.
The guards pulled 51 to the bench and strapped him down, butt pointing up toward Travis’s erect rod. They knew which O-ring gag to use that would accommodate their cocks and roughly fitted the lean slave’s mouth with it. Both slaves were ready.
Dane stepped up to the ass of the hanging jock.
“You are mine now, boy,” he breathed as he sank his slicked massive rod into the jock’s golden asshole. The jock stiffened and moaned. Dane pushed the boy forward and gripped his rod until it pressed against the tight dark hole of 51.
The slave’s hole resisted but Dane forced the rod deep into its hole as the slave tried to grunt around Zach’s meaty cock now raping it through the O-ring. Dane began to pound Travis’s hole hard, gripping the jocks stretched abs and pawing at the huge nips. The Master’s dark fur quickly matted with sweat and he showed no mercy for the strung up boy.
Zach took equal pleasure in choking 51’s throat and the guards drew in close, one using a switch to beat the lean slave’s back, the other reaching underneath to attach a milking tube to 51’s rigid rod. 51 grunted and drooled; bucking with the triple fucking it was receiving. Travis moaned and panted inside the tight hood, his hungry virgin hole taking every inch of Dane’s cock.
Dane grunted suddenly and stiffened, pulling Travis away from 51 and grabbing the jock’s cock with his left hand, his right pounding the boy’s stretched abs just above the base of his cock. Dane grunted and pumped hard three times then bellowed like a bull sire, pumping his load deep into the boy’s tight asshole.
Travis screamed with erotic pain and stiffened, his own load splattering his body and the slave below him as Dane forced it out of his rod.
Zach also pumped away with gusto, grabbing the switch from the guard and laying hard welts on 51’s back and shoulders as both men shot their cum in unison. 51’s load was sucked down the milking tube for use later, Zach’s white cum dripping out of the gagged slave’s mouth.
Both Masters pulled away from the slaves, taking white towels each guard offered. Together, they slumped on a couch brought into the barn just for this moment. The guards waited for the two men to sit back before assuming the positions Dane and Zach had vacated. Travis grunted and tried to thrash but his sore stretched arms had lost all of their strength. He hung limply under the white light as the two guards first raped him, and then brought the other three slaves’ out of their cages to do the same. All under the watchful eye of Dane and Zach resting on the couch.
But Travis was nowhere near done with his first hard night at DZ Ranch.
Part 3 The Guard
Almost 30,000 years ago Mount Tehama woke from a prehistoric slumber, destroying its tall volcanic cone in a massive blast that sent red-hot lava rocks raining down over the fields and foothills. The violent pyroclastic flow left behind hundreds of acres of grassy pasture littered with black volcanic rocks under the gaze of the snowy, broken bones of Tehama. Its remains, now called Lassen, are near the place where the DZ Ranch Land and Cattle Company headquarters now slumber under the tall blue oaks in the late summer heat.
In one pasture, three men were sweating and gulping water in the sparse shade of an oak. Piles of black rocks that had been gleaned from the field surrounded the men, ready to be picked up by the ranch truck later that day. One man was wearing dark blue SWAT pants, heavy black boots, plus a SWAT vest with a semi-automatic firearm slung over his back. He was dark skinned, with no shirt under the vest, allowing the other two men to admire his large arms and heavy pecs thickly furred with black hair. He was a guard.
Aaron had come to the ranch early on, back before there was an organized slave-training program. Back then he was an unemployed construction worker in Las Vegas, spending the day at the gym, trying to find meaning and purpose in that sweltering city of fake glamour and broken promises of prosperity. Rent was long past due along with the truck payment and the cell phone bill. Scanning the profiles online, he had sent a message to a Master who seemed to promise the unbelievable: a new purpose driven life on a private ranch. No worries, no expenses; just come, serve, and grow. Two weeks later he was bound and hooded in the sleeper cab of a semi-truck barreling up Interstate 5 on a winter’s day. Suddenly, Aaron had a new identity as #5, stripped of his troubled past and his clothes.
He had been subjected to a training routine similar to that of the two slaves he was currently guarding on a work detail out on the ranch. The two Masters, Dane and Zach, had used him hard for their own twisted sexual gratification constantly. Kept naked and booted, Aaron had been kept close at hand at all times, forced to do everything the two men desired. He had spent hours bound to the bench press in the unfinished metal barn, huge iron plates loaded on for set after set, until he grew to unimagined proportions. Forced workouts and cum control had forged Aaron into a super slave, strong, muscled and focused.
Aaron had spent days on the road with Zach, bound in the sleeper cab. Dragged out at each truck stop to be used as a muscle fuck toy by the lean muscled driver and his buds, gathered via the CB radio at distant stops. He remembered a hot windy night in Winnemucca, the dust blowing hard across the parking lot as trucks rumbled and moved under the lot lights. Despite the wind, a crowd of men had gathered at the back of the 18-wheeler to take turns on the trainee guard strung up by his wrists inside the box trailer. His legs were pulled apart, nuts tied off and stretched to a latch in the floor, neck yanked up by the leather collar around his neck. His cock forced into painful erection, his ass exposed to the dirty sweaty cocks of the men gathered. They had pumped him full of hot cum again and again, their paw like hands groping his dark furred pecs and ass cheeks.
Now Aaron watched the new slave, Travis, or # 62 as he was now referred to, panting through the tight rubber hood locked over his head. His blue eyes watered in the dry air and sweat slicked his white skin turned red by the sun. Already his pumped, gym muscles were being transformed into lean striated slabs of red meat and he kept his gaze to the dirt, broken but determined. Aaron looked down at the jock’s cock that was painfully stuffed into the clear plastic chastity device. Travis’s shaved balls, full of two weeks worth of cum, bulged around the ring. The guard’s muscled ass twitched, remembering many a night of rape by the Masters of DZ Ranch.
Just outside the shade of the wide oak lay a huge fallen tree trunk, over 3ft in diameter. The guard hatched a plan. He grabbed the jock slave by his leash and pulled him over to the log. In one swift movement, Aaron threw the chain leash through a gap under the trunk and pulled the slave down on his back to its rough surface. Then he slid the chain over the slave’s shackled feet and pulled hard so that the boy’s body was arched backward over the log and the chain clicked into place at the ring in the steel collar. Now the jock’s incredible body was completely exposed to the guard’s groping hands. As the trusted guard, he had a master key to any lock anywhere on the ranch, including the plastic cage of the jock’s eager dick. The jock moaned as Aaron undid the brass lock, the massive cock meat literally forcing the device apart as it swelled with pent-up lust. The other slave looked on, transfixed, as Aaron began to stroke the bound prisoner’s meat to draw more of the dripping, slick dick juice out as he stepped out of his BDU’s and slicked up his own muscled ass hole.
Aaron climbed up on the huge fallen log and straddled the boy’s massive muscled physique, slowly dropping down on top of the slave’s erect swollen rod. The slave groaned and pumped his thighs into the muscled guard’s tight asshole even as he rose up and down on the massive tool. Aaron had not felt such meat in his hole for some time, not like this, his desire for the blond jock slave fulfilled by the huge hot meat deep inside him. Travis shifted his hips and pumped with more fury, desperate to get off after so long without cumming. His cock was sore from the long days inside the device and spikes of pain came with each thrust but his animal instinct could not be overcome. Musky sweat dripped down from the guard’s black furred muscles and trickled down Travis’s torso. The guard pumped his own meat as Travis tried to watch him through the tiny eyeholes of the hot rubber mask clinging to his face. The cum was boiling in his rod but he tried to hold back to match the climax of the guard, but he could not contain his lust. He bellowed and his cum shot deep into the guard’s tight hole with each deep thrust. The guard bucked like a bull rider atop the muscle stud and shot his own load, splattering Travis’s hood and open mouth with the hot white ropes of jizz.
Travis bellowed again as the guard continued to pump the jock’s stiff cock and the boy was rocked with intense electric pulses of orgasm. His muscled, sweating back was ground into the rough tree bark as Aaron continued to ride his rod, working his own dark cock up to another load that began to rise up inside. Aaron’s sweat now drenched both men, his armored vest in stark contrast to his naked, booted legs shining in the intense afternoon light. In the background, the other slave moaned in frustration as his own caged cock dripped a puddle of juice into the dry dirt. Aaron yelled, pumping his cum out of his rod as his left fist pounded on the stretched abs of the bound slave. Travis dropped his head back in total exhaustion, his own cum now leaking out of the guard’s hole onto his crotch. The guard stumbled off the log and into the shade, grabbing the water jug off an ATV parked next to the tree. He held the jug over his head and gulped the water greedily as more splashed down his own incredible sweat drenched body. He climbed up onto the seat of the ATV and laid back on the rack, panting heavily, his hole sore and twitching from the deep plunging it had just experienced. He laid back and closed his eyes, intending to rest a moment.
A fly buzzed Aaron’s nose, waking him from his sex-induced slumber. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Looking around, he realized that it was much later than he thought! The sun was dipping down behind the massive bulk of Inskip Hill and long shadows stretched across the meadow. He was due back at headquarters! Travis was still bent backwards and bound over the huge log, his naked body limp and streaked with dirt, the other slave was curled up in the grass nearby, sleeping. Aaron pulled on his BDU’s and boots, and then turned the key to bring the quad roaring to life. He had to get this crew back by sundown, or he would face the punishment of the Masters of DZ Ranch. A punishment that Aaron did not want to face again.
To be continued …
The Masters of DZ Ranch will interview potential slaves via email at firstname.lastname@example.org or on Recon at FirefighterSIR