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The Jem Snippets

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"The Jem Snippets" is a cooperative set of stories written by myself (Kkatman) and Portentous1975.

Set in a futuristic boot-camp, these stories chronicle the ongoing sufferings of Jem's breasts. The original snippets were very short and deliciously cruel bits written by Portentous1975. With his permission, I continued the tales in a slightly more story-like format, with snippet-like mini-chapters. I hope to post these in that format. The project is ongoing.

Fair warning and disclaimer: these stories are wicked, and the hurt that befalls Jem's breasts is brutal. Due to fantastical sci-fi elements, there is no blood or real damage. Likewise, this story involves no yiffing. Remember: this is fantasy, not reality. And in fantasy, sexual torture is hot!

Enjoy!

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"Hell of a thunderstorm last night"

"No shit. According to the reader, the flagpole took over four dozen strikes after she went up."

In the golden sun of early morning, the assembled squad cast long shadows as they stood waiting for the brass tones of reveille and the raising of the flag... this morning accompanied by the lowering of a naked, shivering, moaning Jem. Her breasts still glowed faintly, covered in nano-metal targeting paint that was still bleeding out its electrical charge.

The sergeant had two men hold her up, another released her knockers from the tight-binding cables she had been hoisted by. Blood rushed back into her tits, re-igniting the tremendous pain in each nerve of her mammaries. She arched, breasts bouncing, as she let out a bellowing wail of feminine torment.

"Attention!" The entire squad snapped into perfect formation. The two teammates holding her went rigid, causing her to bounce slightly with a strained whimper. She tried to come to attention herself, naked and damp and slightly glowing as she was, and managed a fair job of it despite her suffering.

"Who's responsible for this?!" The sergeant sounded furious. He paced in front of her squad mates, blustering. Jem tried to focus through the pounding pain in her chest, and felt a surge of thankfulness towards the sergeant. But it was quickly dashed.

The sergeant turned to stare at her tits, scowling, then spun to bellow in the faces of the squad again, "Who decided to waste military supplies on mother-fucking recreation? Does the supply depot have a sign saying ‘Merry-fucking-Christmas, take what you want'? Do you think we spend money on targeting paint for your amusement?"

He stopped, waited a tick, the bellowed, "WELL? Speak up, you sorry excuses for soldiers!"

"Sir, no sir!" The squad answered unanimously.

"No?" The sergeant looked mock-astonished. "Are you saying I'm hallucinating? Are you saying that one of you DIDN'T take very expensive target paint from the supply depot last night and use it on something that fucking WASN'T a TARGET?"

"Sir, no sir!" The answer was rigid and without hesitation. Jem felt a deep, sinking sensation.

The sergeant swung his arm back to point at her chest, his finger just grazing a breast. Jem bit her lip and choked on a scream. Between the mines, the hanging and the lightning, her breasts were so hurting and sore that the slightest touch was excruciating! Her knees went out and she found herself once again being supported completely by the soldiers at her sides.

The sergeant got into the face of a slightly trembling private. "DO YOU SEE A TARGET HERE?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

He turned to the squad as a whole. "Do all of you see a target here?"

In military chorus, "SIR, YES SIR!"

"Well then, my mistake." It was never good when the sergeant smiled. "So I'd better see you USING that target! Leave is cancelled today! "

Two hours later, Jem found herself tied to a post one hundred meters downrange. Her breasts had not stopped hurting from the first two mines yesterday, much less everything after. She didn't think she could handle this. She knew it didn't matter.

Unbidden, the math she knew and feared so well raced through her mind. One target. Two tits. Twenty rounds in a magazine. One magazine per soldier. One hundred and nine soldiers... one hundred and eight minus herself... She tried to brace for the first shot.

KRACK!

The first bullet slammed into her left tit just above her areola. Her tit seems to implode around the strike, hugging the bullet for less than an eyeblink before bouncing back to its proper shape, jiggling cruelly. There was no way to brace for such pain! The nerves of her breast rebelled in a paroxysm of sheerest agony! Jem bucked, tossing her head back and letting out a keening wail that could be heard a mile away.

Even as she scrambled to recover, her body tensed in anticipation of the second shot hitting her right breast. At least on an intellectual level she knew what was coming.

KRACK!

The second shot slammed unexpectedly into her left breast, following the first, this time striking into the soft underswell nearly two inches below her nipple. Again her heavy boob was sent bouncing as pain beyond monstrous pain devoured her. She thrashed and writhed against the pole for several minutes, howling wounded sounds that didn't belong to a sapient voice.

KRACK!

As the third bullet struck neatly into her left nipple, Jem realized that her math was wrong. One target. Two tits. Twenty rounds in a magazine. One magazine PER BREAST per soldier...

Thirty-seven rounds later, her mind whirling in a tornado of pain, Jem gasped for air, moaning guttural female sounds and thanking the heavens for the momentary respite that had to come when the first soldier gave way for the second. But she was wrong again! She assumed that only her squad mates would be using her for target practice!

Jem didn't hear the shot, but her body lurched as her left breast collapsed from the devastating impact of a .50 caliber sniper round! The strike flattened her tit like a blow from a wrecking ball, shockwaves rippling through the flesh of her breast and from there through the rest of her body, making everything â€" her guts, her groin, even the backs of her knees explode in pain! Immediately, the anguish in every point of her body began to fade as the pain in her breast intensified, as if her tit was absorbing it all into one ball of pure, blazing agony!

A second sniper shot slammed directly into her right nipple, swiftly followed by another to each breast, rending Jem's world apart. Her last coherent thought of the evening was swept away by the hurricane roar of agony!