Jem's Bad Week (Part 8)
#9 of The Jem Snippets
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!
PS: Really short one this time. But, I hope, fun nevertheless!
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By the time the sergeant's hoverjeep pulled up, the sledgehammer had disappeared as if it was never there.
Jem pressed against the wall of her prison, sobbing wretchedly. She prayed the sergeant would see how much she was hurting and give her a reprieve. Or at least time to recover. She could barely see him through her tears as he strode up to stand just a foot away from her vulnerable, HURTING breasts. "Well, I hope you enjoyed your break." She answered him with broken animal sounds. "Good, because now your punishment begins."
"Private Jem Barmfager, you failed to complete twelve kilometers of the perimeter track. This, despite being warned, and being assisted from your teammates. For such poor performance, regulations say I should sentence you to one lap for each failed kilometer." The sergeant growled thunderously, "But since you left the track and made us find you, I'm ordering that doubled! Twelve laps around the track each way!"
Jem's mind struggled to grasp what was being said. How could she run the track twelve... no, twenty-four times when she couldn't even run it once? How could she run at all when she was locked in The Box? She was sure it would make sense if the agony from her breasts wasn't overwhelming her mind, making it near impossible to think!
The sergeant walked off to the side, turned, and barked, "Teams Alpha, Beta, Omega: tip The Box!"
"Tip the...?!" Jem thought, although the words came out as only whine, "Oh, please no!" The Box rocked, then pitched forward, and for an eternal moment Jem felt the all-too-familiar sensation of forward free-fall.
>>>---===***!!!! ka-WHAMMMMMM !!!!***===---<<<
Jem had fallen on her breasts before, but never when they had been this abused, and never ever had she fallen like this! The weight of her body was nothing compared to the massive, crushing weight of The Box! Her boobs were flattened against the sun-heated asphalt; she could see them pancaked under the transparent metal!
She couldn't scream. She couldn't even whine. Her muzzle opened wide, but no sound came out at all.
It took a few seconds for the full magnitude of her pain to make it through her wetware-augmented sensory perception and strike her brain. And when it did, it shattered all of her other senses. All she could see was her pain. All she could hear was her pain. All she could smell or taste was her unbelievable mammary agony! Over and over, her infantry nanites prevented her from passing out.
She regained her senses in time to witness a meter-long triangular plate being fitted to what had been the top of The Box, and a hovertank backing up towards her. She watched in terror as the tank's tow line was drawn out and attached to The Box by invisible hands. She suddenly understood how she was supposed to make twenty-four laps around the perimeter track... a twenty-kilometer track of sharp, crude gravel and broken cinderblock, save for a few hundred meters of asphalt where it met up with the forward base.
At the sergeant's order, the hovertank started gliding forward, dragging The Box behind it!