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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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"You okay in there?" a disembodied voice asked casually.

Jem was not okay. Hanging in the box from her trapped tits, suffering unimaginable torment as her naked body was illuminated by the field lights being set up around her, Jem was very far from okay. Okay didn't even live on the same planet as Jem and her pain.

Her infantry nanites had protected her from suffering any real damage over her eleven-hour punishment, even they couldn't keep her breasts from swelling after that extreme a level of abuse. Her large, beautiful breasts had become undeniably larger and more swollen than when they were first been trapped on the outside of The Box. That was the only outwardly visible sign of the hurt she was suffering.

The only mercy she had to hold on to, as meager and fragile as it was, was that her punishment detail was finally over. And that held little comfort at all knowing that her pain suppressors wouldn't be turned back on for another six days.

Her sergeant appeared in the circle of lights that surrounded her. He looked her over with stern dispassion for several long seconds. Then began barking out orders.

"Team Gamma, first pole!"

At the sergeant's command, a long metal pole was carried into view by invisible hands and slid through the set of handles on the lower semi-circular panel, sliding a few inches below her breasts.

What were they doing? Jem felt animal panic rising within her. They should let her out now. They had to let her out now! Oh gods, did they think she deserved more?!?

"Team Delta, second pole!"

Another long pole slide through the upper pair of handles, passing above her breasts.

"All teams, take position!"

Jem's head tossed about, but it was no use. With their chameleonwear on, she couldn't hope to see what her squad mates were preparing to do.

"All teams, unscrew the lid!"

WHAT??!

Jem had assumed that the plates which locked together to seal the circular hole in The Box would be removed the same way they were put in! Her mind quickly pieced together what was about to happen to her and she gasped in horror; there wasn't enough room in her prison for her to turn with them.

Before she could protest, she felt the unholy tug on the pinched bases of her breasts as twelve of her invisible squad mates gripped the bars and started to turn the locked panels. Jem's tits couldn't be twisted around each other â€" at least, most definitely not at the very base of her mammaries â€" so instead the immense torque started to forcibly scrape Jem's hugely swollen jugs back through the less-than-two-centimeter gap, one excruciating, agony-packed millimeter at a time!

Jem's eyes flew open wide, flinging tears. Her pupils shrank until they seemed to disappear. Wild, unhinged wails of female HURTING poured from her muzzle like it was an opening to hell.

Her squad mates turned the panels very slowly. The more they turned, the more of her bulbous, bulging boobs were cruelly forced back through that tight opening, and the more easily her twins could be twisted. Outside, Jem's breasts bulged more and more, the pressure in her tits building insanely! Inside, her breastflesh was cruelly stretched as her two girls were slowly twisted round each other!

Jem's muzzle opened wider and wider, her face etched with untellable hurt, but her screams devolved into wrecked whines â€" such cries of suffering so purely female, perfectly sexual and vastly overwhelming that surely in hell itself, sadistic female demons were clutching their breasts and weeping for Jem.

As the turning of the screw continued, somewhere nearby a disembodied voice chimed in, "Yeah, I think she's okay."