THE BABY MILL [[{SHINee}]]

THE BABY MILL [[3]] SEMEN

His hand pumped up and down over the swollen member that used to be his penis. If given time it might return to a normal state, but because he was forced to perform as he was now more often than average it remained in the state it was in: red and not wanting to go stiff ever again. Unfortunately, it had to if he wanted to live…

            The floor manager stared at him expectantly, watching his every movement to make sure he was ready to catch his load when it came. That stupid cup hovered under the head of his member, waiting to be filled. It wouldn’t long… Not long until…

            Pain flirted with pleasure and the standing boy found himself in brief euphoria the closer he came to ejaculating. No matter how many times he performed, no matter how raw and burning his skin felt, he couldn’t bring himself to stay neutral.

            Hair stuck to his damp neck as it leaned back. No sound was going to come out of his throat, though, that he made sure of. To keep his statue position on his throat he would just remind himself of the promise he’d made to himself long ago. No sound – ever. Over time it had grown easier. Like an animal trying to a new environment he liked to think. He’d adapted so much that a flap had pretty much developed over his vocal chords and sealed the passage of sound. Of course, that was all figuratively speaking, but he couldn’t help but guess that that was what happened since he couldn’t remember the last time he spoke…

            Not a word… Not a word had passed his lips since the moment he’d figured out what they’d actually been doing here at the clinic and what they had planned to do to him.

            “Can you hurry up? I have fifteen more people to do before lunch,” the floor manager grumbled.

            The way he was able to say that so easily disgusted the boy. He would have stopped the movement with his hand so much so was he repulsed by this man, but the consequences would be severe. The sooner he was done with this, though, the faster he would leave. The faster he left the sooner he’d be able to slip under the bed sheets and succumb to the sleep beckoning to him.

            Just a little longer… Just a little bit longer…

            “Come on now!”

            The boy’s fingers moved ever faster. Squeezing, massaging, doing everything they could to get them to that climatic point that would put things at ease if only temporarily. Until that afternoon, anyway, where he would be put through the same routine again.

            Burning sensations floated through his limbs, reaching down to his toes, which curled in anticipation, and then to his head to block his mind of any sensible brainwork. Liquid fire bathed his body in a flaming bath that numbed his body of all bruises pain. Any open sore, tainted piece of skin discoloured by bruises, rash irritated by constant friction had a Band-Aid constructed of pleasure placed over it. Any undesirable feeling was cast off the closer he neared the end.

            He was living in a total hell but each time his hands brought him to this point he was carried off to a heavenly area.

            Goddamn, nothing had ever felt so good…

            A moan retched up his throat and he quickly made sure that he choked it off before it could become more than a vibration.

            So good… So fucking good…

            A stream of semen squirted out of the boy’s member, landing into the awaiting cup. The floor manager caught every drop expertly, not wanting to be punished for having wasted even a single drop of the special sperm it contained. Later, this would be sent to the freezers, carefully labeled with his name, the exact time he ejaculated and the date so that his poor carrier could later be injected with it.

            Exhausted, the boy glanced at the label that the old man was carefully writing in a noxious smelling black marker.

Kim JongHyun

Donor 27

7:52:37 AM

            His eyes weren’t able to focus beyond that point. Dizziness threatened to send his balance askew. In a few seconds he was sure to tip over…

            Here came the pain… The hard part… The loneliness after the pleasure. As time had passed and his stay here had begun to look permanent he’d found himself thinking of prostitutes and people in the sex industry. They must feel empty after everything… Once the last load was released, the last moan mumbled, the last sweat drop slipped – were they not left disappointed? Money surely couldn’t fill that void that he was left with after he was forced to touch himself like that. Without the partner to share these supposed special moments there was nothing… Just a black abyss ready to swallow him.

            The trembling in his knees worsened to the point where the floor manager had no choice but to set aside his clipboard and cup to help him back to the bed. The rough blankets had never felt any better to his sore body. The scratchy material did more to annoy him then to actually comfort him. Nonetheless, the blanket was pulled over his bony body, caressing the pulsating pain in his crotch if not a little.

            “You did well today,” the floor manager praised whilst eyeing the globs of white glued to the bottom of the plastic cup. Clearly he would be getting paid well…

            He could care less. Everything was stupid here and all this stupidity was wearing him down. The man holding his unborn children could be condemned to hell for all he cared. Or maybe he could try being trapped up in a cell like his and live off only meager portions of food that were supposed to give him strength to perform impure tasks. Either way, it would add up to the same torture, wouldn’t it?

            Shame filled him.

            With each release he increased the chances of his carrier going through an even tormenting pain.

            Was he in pain now?

            It’d be nice if he could at least get some updates about his carrier…

            Weak and worn down, JongHyun felt his body closing in on itself. He was on the cusp of slumber when the door was flung open carelessly. The door knob clamoured against the wall, sending the near sleeping boy into a panic at the un-routine like disturbance.

            “What do you think you’re doing?” the floor manager demanded. His eyes pierced down into his co-worker, a more than menacing look burning in his eyes as he protected the cup possessively between his two hands.

            “The doctor demands you come quickly! Carrier twenty-seven is having a complicated birth and he needs you to come immediately!” the employee panted, obviously in a rush to get back to the room where helping hands were desperately needed.

            “But I haven’t finished yet!” the floor manager hissed.

            “It’s his first; you have to come!”

           With a hiss of annoyance the two men left the room, not in a big enough rush to forget to lock the boy’s door, though… Nothing unusual… Except for the fact that the man had called out the number twenty-seven. Two seven. 27. His number. Which meant…

            His carrier.

            His carrier was going through the killing process of birth… To his child…

            He hadn’t even known he was pregnant.