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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!

PS: This is a particularly long bit that is almost entirely plot-like. Hope you don't mind. -.^

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Front and center of formation, Jem made an effort to stand. A squad mate to either side of her propped her up, each gripping one of her arms painfully tight just beneath her armpits. She was whining and moaning and gasping in pain â€" noises ignored by all around her.

Less than half a day ago, her breasts were being crushed horribly and dragged over more than five hundred kilometers of sharp gravel! Afterwards, her badly swollen boobs had been forced through a slot less than two centimeters high while being mercilessly wrenched in a corkscrew! And then, before the pain had a chance to diminish, her breasts had been used to smother a Jericho anti-tank mine before it was set off!

Jem breasts were vicious, unrelenting concerts of pain, throbbing to the rhythm of her heart. The cataclysmic storm within each of her boobs had devolved into a suffocatingly powerful aching, punctuated with a thousand jagged knives of razor-sharp pain and swaths of fiery agony where her fatigues stretched tight over her overwhelmingly abused knockers.

Jem's breasts had swollen beyond fitting in her uniform, so the squad members who dressed her had forcibly pulled her top across her bosom, fastened a single button and called it good. The material dug into her tits where it stretched the tightest, clawing lines of deeply-biting fire across her breasts that rose into infernos where they passed over her nipples and areola.

Jem carefully measured her breathing, trying not to let her chest expand. Every slight movement of her breasts provoked bursting crescendos of overwhelming agony. Through it all, she tried to listen as best she could to what the corporal was saying.

"Echo Company has been itching for a rematch ever since their loss to you last month. So tonight, we're giving it to them." The corporal stared over her assembled squad with a smile. "At twenty-hundred hours, you will rendezvous at the war zone for a game of Capture the Beacons. I hope to see you perform as excellently tonight as you did last time."

Capture the Beacons. It was a lot like the old-style capture-the-flag Jem had played as a child, except for a few very key differences. Capture the Beacons was played by soldiers augmented with dermal armor and pain-suppressors, wielding military weapons graded just short of being able to actually hurt them. And instead of flags...

"Now let us find out who your beacons will be for this game!" The corporal held up a datapad. "As usual, all your names have been entered, and three will be randomly selected. Once at the war zone, you will be divided into three teams, each with your own beacon to protect and enemy beacon to capture. Both teams are allowed to keep their captured tokens as trophies for fourty-eight hours. The company that captures the most beacons out of three wins."

The corporal made a show out of consulting the datapad. "Sharree!"

Careful not to let her breasts shift even slightly, Jem turned her head. Her tears blurred her vision, but she thought she could see Sharree standing down the row, projecting self-assured pride. Despite the drawing supposedly being random, Sharree had played beacon for their company in three out of five previous games. And she had never been taken. Fastest girl in the squad. Hearing her name brought sounds of confidence from the squad. Jem knew, however, that Echo company were really smarting from their utter defeat last time, and if Sharree was caught, it would be extra bad for her.

"Trigger!" A solid draw, Jem knew. Pretty fast. But Trigger earned the name through marksmanship skills, and the beacons weren't allowed to use weapons. They were merely runners, counting on their squad mates to take out threats. She would much rather have had Trigger at one of the bunkers defending a beacon than being one. From their silence, she knew her squad mates were thinking the same.

"And finally," the corporal began, then stopped, stared at the datapad as if he didn't already know the answer, and broke a chuckle. "Well, what do you know. If it isn't our own mine-clearer, Jem!"

In contrast to her hellishly burning breasts, the rest of Jem's body felt like she had been suddenly doused with icewater.

She could hear the groans from her squad, particularly the two holding her. She knew they were thinking she was a lost beacon â€" even in prime condition, she was far from one of their better runners.

Jem was thinking about how much weapons designed to sting with pain-suppressors on would feel with them off. She imagined of how they would feel hitting her in the arms, the legs, the stomach, the back. She absolutely refused to think about what a hit to her breasts would feel like. The mere possibility made her break out in cold sweat under her fur.

The sergeant was addressing them now. "All right soldiers! You heard the corporal! Now listen up!" He paced back and forth in front of them. "After morning mess, you're going to run an advanced obstacle course! You'll take one trip through. If you make it before the clock runs down, you get the rest of the day off to rest and prepare for the games tonight! And I don't need to say what happens if you don't make it through in proper time. You know why?"

The sergeant was directly in front of Jem when he turned to face them, the muscles of his neck taunt and his face scrunched into the sort of expression that made privates tremble as he shouted. "Because you WILL make it! You will make it the FIRST TIME! Every mother-fucking one of you!" Jem could feel spittle spraying from his mouth as he yelled.

Turning away from them again, he continued to lecture, albeit less ferociously. "This is a team-building exercise, soldiers! If one of your brothers or sisters fall, you pick them up and carry them. Everybody makes it, and they make it in time. You don't leave a soldier behind!"

He stopped and turned to them again, this time his voice calm and cool, which was more frightening than when he was yelling. "Tonight, you will have beacons and you will have soldiers. If Echo company captures a beacon, it means they're good. If they capture two or more, that means they're better than you. But if they capture one of your soldiers... it means you're worthless losers who don't deserve to wear that uniform. And you'll spend the next month regretting it."

The two squad mates to each side of her were so shaken by the sergeant's tone that their grip on Jem eased, and she felt herself begin to slip downward. Catching themselves (and her), they quickly jerked her back up. The motion made her breasts jiggle in their restraining clothing, and Jem was thrust into a world of vivid, hellish torment! She belted out a yelp.

The sergeant, who had been walking away down the line, stopped and turned to stare at her. Marching back, he stood to face her. "What was that, Private Barmfager?" he asked loudly.

Fresh tears streamed down Jem's eyes; her head spun in the aftermath. "Permission to go to the infirmary, sir?"

The sergeant looked her over appraisingly. And very slowly, with words sharp and clear as glass, and a voice that carried heavily over the ears of everyone assembled, "Do you have something to report, Private Barmfager?"

Jem swallowed hard. She knew she had made a mistake. She wasn't injured. She was *HURTING*! Yet... she was under a period of extended pain-suppressor deactivation, and she had been given punishment detail yesterday. So she was supposed to be hurting...

But... not like THIS!!!

She shut her eyes, and for a moment she seriously considered telling.

But what was there to tell? The Jericho? She had no proof. No witnesses â€" not even, technically, herself. She'd been blind, deaf and without sense of smell. She couldn't convince them it happened, much less point a finger.

The sledgehammer? Her assailants had been invisible. She couldn't say who it was, or even claim for certain it was a member of the squad. And if her squad mates believed it was one or more of their own, team loyalty dictated that they claim it hadn't happened at all. Loyalty to a squad-mate before loyalty to, at the time, a prisoner.

Even the stomping would be her word against Chase's and Sharree's. Two against one. They'd deny it, and that would be the end of it. And if it wasn't, this was the worst possible time to get Sharree in trouble.

And then there were the retributions to consider. Not just from the ones who did, but from everyone in the squad. No one likes a tattletale.

Jem sensed the growing silence. She thought she could feel every ear turned towards her.

Eyes clinched shut, she hung her head in resignation, and with her tail between her legs, admitted "No sir. Nothing to report."

There was a pause.

Then, "Then you'd better get to morning mess, and prepare yourself for the obstacle course, Private! Because for trying to wimp out of the exercise, you've earned yourself the point position! You'll be going in first!"

"FALL OUT!"

Jem was carried to the mess hall, and hauled over to one of the tables. One of the squad members kicked a chair out of the way; she was dropped to her knees in front of the table. The resulting bounce brought a repeat trip to the world of pure hurting, and wrenched a pitiful wail from her throat.

One of the squad spoke up from behind her. She wasn't sure who. "I'll go get your food for you, Barmfager. Wouldn't want our best beacon straining herself and pulling a muscle or anything." He clapped her on the back hard enough to drive her straining breasts into the table edge with a soft whump! The wooden plane compressed her boobs, catching them right beneath her nipples. A line of incredibly intense, white-hot PAIN exploded across her mammaries!! In that moment, Jem's breasts bulged above and below the table edge, swollen breastflesh straining in sheer agony, a thousand daggers of pain erupting from within! Then she rebounded back off the table, her heavy breasts dancing.

As Jem opened her muzzle to let out a scream, a set of paws gripped her shoulders and gave her a hard push that rammed her tits back into the table, another streak of white-hot agony cutting across her breasts!! The pain within her atrociously maltreated mammaries soared! The scream died in her throat with a feminine squeak.

"We know our squad's reputation is in good hands with you!'

Jem slowly rocked back, agony and tears blurring her vision, her pulse pounding in her ears and pounding in her screaming tits. She barely heard the next comment as someone with considerable body weight and strength put it into a shove between her shoulderblades that slammed her boobs into the table a third time, this time hard enough to make her bounce back...

Right into the next waiting pair of paws.

Before getting their food, all one hundred and eight members of her squadron let Jem know just how happy they were that she was their beacon tonight.