"Actually, we designed it so's we don't have to put in that many sets of organs every time," said Miklos, "but we figured as soon as we do get three at a time -- anyway, it wasn't all that much extra work to build it for three, so..."
"You mean it'll work just as well on just one stud at a time -- like -- just me?"
Miklos nodded. "Or two -- or three. But before we start it working on your equipment..." He pointed at another machine.
Gene, followed by his two guards, strolled over to the device: another column, this one square in cross-section, with a short, odd-looking hose sprouting from each of its four sides. "This take studs out too?"
Miklos moved to one side of the machine and picked up one of the hoses. "No -- this is just a milking machine. You plug yourself in like this--" He slid his stiff prong into the end of the hose. "--and you turn it one like this--" He punched a button on the side of the column. "--and it sucks you off -- like this." The machine began to hum, and the hose that gripped Miklos's prong began throbbing.
"I'll try anything once -- even that thing I looked at first." He eased his quivering erection into the end of another hose, punched the nearest button, and relaxed with a sigh as a hungry suction gripped him -- sucking, relaxing, sucking again. For a moment, he imagined someone -- blond Lief -- was working on his shaft -- but no one had ever sucked him off so hungrily like this before. He looked away from the machine, saw Lief and Wesley exchange glances, then begin shedding their own uniforms. A moment later they had plugged themselves into hoses of the milking machine too.
# # #
Sucked dry at last, Gene worked his still-rigid shaft free of the hose and staggeded back a pace, then caught his balance checked to se where his guards were. Wesley was in the throes of another orgasm, but Lief nad already unplugged his impressive prong and now stood beside Gene.
"Okay -- now what?" asked Gene.
"The sturdy shop-foreman patted the glass top of the press. "This. It's ready when you are."
"Well, I'm ready too: I'm naked, I still got a hard-on that won't quit, and I already burned off all the hair on my balls and my crotch." He glanced at Lief, then at Wesley, who was just pulling himself free of the milking hose. "I'm still hard 'cause I got a hard-on shot, but what about you two studs?"
Wesley just grinned; Lief explained, "We figured -- well, we might as well be prepared, so..." He touched his shaft, rubbed his balls, and grinned back at his partner.
As Gene strolled back to the three-sided press, he said, "Y' know, this could even be fun, watchin' through th' glass when it -- while it's doin' me." He looked down, saw a circular clamp between the two vertical rods at each corner of the press, just the right size to grip the hilt of a set of virile organs. A bicycle-type seat, pointing at the press, jutted out from each corner, about an inch below the clamp. "You even rigged it so's I can sit down and be comfortable while it works on me."
"That's not why I put in seats," Miklos said. "Guys' legs come in all sizes, so unless I get in a matched set of triplets, press'll be too high for some guys and too low for others. I put in seats so the press can work on a guy as short as you at the same time it's doing somebody as tall as Lief here--" Miklos gestured at the big blond guard. "--and anybody else in between." He nodded at Wesley.
Lief ambled to the far side of the press. Wesley casually gripped Gene's left arm. Lief studied the press for a moment, shrugged his thick shoulders, and said, "Okay, then: count me in too."
Gene took a good look at the big blond and realized Lief's stiff prong was even longer and thicker than his own or Miklos's.
Miklos said, "Sure, we could of built it t' take out four -- even five studs at once. But with that many, 'less we get in a matched set of meat, the best-hung stud'll get most of the pressure. But with three, and the way I rigged the pistons that pull down the top, the press puts the same pressure on everybody's meat. Anyway it'll work okay for just you two guys, but..." Miklos trotted to a refrigerator at the far end of the shop and returned with a pitcher of something white and creamy, saying, "Waffle batter."
"What the fuck," Wesley growled, "I might as well stick myself in along with you two studs." He released Gene's shoulder, bent his rigid shaft down, and let it snap erect again.
For a moment, Gene thought of escape. Miklos was pouring batter onto the press's lower plate. Wesley had released his grip on Gene's arm and was piling his and Lief's discarded uniforms to one side. But when Gene eased back a pace, he bumped into Lief, who casually draped his right arm around Gene's shoulders. Gene relaxed under that warm weight and let himself be steered to a corner of the press, where he straddled the seat, bent his knees, leveled his prong, and slid it through the clamp. He looked down, saw and felt the tip of his shaft poke up against the press's transparent upper plate. Cold plastic of the seat cradled his rump, and he felt cold steel between his thighs as he closed his legs on the column. He tucked his balls through the clamp to lie in the even colder batter on the press's lower plate.
"All set?" Miklos asked.
Gene said, "Yeah -- sure," and felt metal tighten around the stem of his organs as Miklos locked the clamp.
With a hand-held torch, Wesley and Lief flash-burned away the hair on each others' prongs and balls, then eased them through the press's other two clamps; Lief on Gene's left, Wesley on the right. Miklos locked Wesley into place, then Lief.
Gene looked from Lief to Wesley and back again; all three now sat in a tight triangle around the press, their shoulders a few inches apart. "At first, I thought you two studs were just kiddin', but now..."
All three men looked down. Gene saw that their shafts didn't quite touch each other in the middle, under the glass slab. Lief and Wesley grinned at each other and then turned to Gene again.
Wesley let his left hand slide down his muscle-sheathed chest and stomach to rest on the clamp around the base of his organs. "At first, I wasn't th' fuck sure if Lief was kidding either, but now..."
Lief put his right hand on Gene's left shoulder. "You heard the Director say we gotta keep a tight watch on you all the way to the end. And after you almost 'scaped the second time..."
"I heard him okay," said Gene, "and I sure don't mind havin' you two hunky studs for company. But you don't have t' do this, just on account of--"
"Besides," said Wesley, "why th' fuck should you have all the fun?"
"Fun?" snorted Gene, then laughed. "Can't be too awful, then, gettin' our nuts cracked like this, if you two are willin' t'--" He turned to Miklos. "Hey, you're kinda gettin' left out. If you're hot t' stick yourself in here with these two heavy-hung studs, 'stead of me..."
Miklos pumped his rigid shaft for a couple of strokes. "I really gotta teach more guys how t' run th' thing 'fore I stick myself in and get waffled. Trouble is, the crew who were building it kept testing it on their own equipment, and now there's nobody left t' run th' thing but me. So, 'less I round up s'more helpers..."
"Yeah? Well, I do know somethin' 'bout tool and die work, so..." Gene stared at the three sets of doomed organs for a moment. His own shaft and balls were darkening with trapped blood; so were Wesley's and Lief's. "Uh --" He paused, licked his lips, and tried to relax his voice. "How -- how do you start this -- this thing, anyway?"
"I can turn it on with a switch over here," Miklos explained. "But if you wanta do it yourself -- feel along the side of the press, 'bout half-way between your clamp and Lief's -- there, that's it."
Gene felt a small switch about six inches below the press's lower plate. "Just -- just flip it up?"
Miklos nodded.
"And -- if I flip it back down?"
"Once you start it, it keeps on going till you're waffled and baked."
"Kinda thought so." Gene took a firm grip on the switch and glanced at his two guards. He decided Wesley was trying to look more relaxed than he really was, while Lief seemed almost eager to get started -- either that or the muscular blond was a better actor. "You studs ready?"
Wesley licked his lips, then nodded.
Lief tightened his grip on Gene's shoulder. "Any time you are."
"I'm not, really, but..." Gene paused, realized he was biting his lips nervously. Very gingerly, he pushed upwards on the switch. He pushed harder, felt the metal knob begin to move, then abruptly snap up and out of his grip. He heard a whine from the press, felt a vibration where his balls lay on the lower plate. He felt Wesley's left hand on his right shoulder, but Gene didn't look up from the glass slab as it slowly descended on three thick shafts and six plump, virile testicles. "The -- I can see the thing's startin' now."
"Feel anything yet?" asked Lief.
"I -- I think the lower plate's warmin' up -- not hot yet -- just kinda comfortably warm." Gene took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "So far, that is." He released the switch, put both hands on his hips.
"I greased both plates so you won't stick to them when you're done," said Miklos. "The pressure--"
"I can feel the top plate coming down already," said Lief.
"That's 'cause you got more t' feel it with," Wesley said, putting his left hand on Gene's right shoulder.
Lief laughed, then said, "You make it sound like that's a bad thing."
"Well . . . maybe 'tis--"
"-- and maybe 'tisn't, being hung this heavy." Lief scowled down at the glass plate as it began pressing his thick shaft down flat on the lower plate. Mostly, I think it's 'cause my prong curves up the way it does -- well, the way it did. Anyway, it's still trying to. Can you feel the upper plate -- the glass one -- touch your balls yet, Gene?"
"Yeah, but -- like you said, just touchin' 'em."
A moment later, Wesley reported, "My prong's down flat now, and those square bumps on th' lower plate are starting t' dig in from underneath. They're getting hot, too." He gently squeezed Gene's right shoulder.
"Not burnin' hot," said Gene, "at least not yet. But--"
"-- it's getting the fuck there okay," growled Wesley.
"Really getting there," said Lief, and Gene heard strain in the blond guard's voice.
"Your balls," said Gene. ~"Anything?"
"Just starting to get squeezed. And getting warmed too. Yours?"
"The same. Prob'ly not as intense but -- but yeah, my balls are gettin' squeezed down against the waffle-plate."
Lief raised his head and met Gene's worried gaze. "Miklos said we're s'posed to get squeezed the same, but--"
"You are getting squeezed the same," Miklos explained, "but a straight prong's gonna feel different from one with a curve, like Lief's here. A stud with a thick prong's getting the pressure spread out over more meat."
"Hey," Wesley growled, "Gene here got clamped in place first--"
"--so he'll go numb first." said Lief. "Why use clamps, anyway?"
"Well there is that," Miklos said. "Going numb, I mean. Mostly, though, it's t' keep your prongs good and hard. Otherwise, the pressure'd just squeeze out the blood till you're flat. This way, blood's got nowheres t' go -- till you burst."
Gene shuddered. "So we'll pop 'stead of..."
"Exactly," said Miklos. "And the lower plate flexes just a bit in the middle, so when you do burst, what's inside gets squeezed towards the center, 'stead of back through the clamps. The question is--"
"Which one of us'll go first?" asked Lief. Gene saw the big blond tense his pectoral muscles, suck in his abdominals. "If somebody else does, I won't be far behind. And since I got clamped in place last..."
"...you'll feel it th' most?" Gene took a deep breath, trying -- unsuccessfully -- to keep the strain out of his voice. "Right now, I kinda guess it'll be me, 'cause -- like Wesley said -- even though I should get numb first, I'm really hurtin' by now -- not screamin'-and-yellin' hurtin', but I can feel the pressure on my balls all th' way up into my guts. As for the heat..."
Said Lief, "... which should be the same for all of us..."
"...I don't think we've started to cook yet," Wesley growled, "but I'm sure the fuck getting ready to."
"Same here," said Lief.
"Likewise." Gene examined his own flattening organs, then Lief's and Wesley's. The descending glass slab had flattened all six balls to rounded disks. "But I can't see anything yet, 'cept for my balls. They're lookin' flatter -- and flatter -- and--"
"Something's coming th' fuck loose inside my cock!" Wesley yelped. A few seconds later, Gene saw Wesley's glans rupture into a spreading circle of bloody pulp.
"Yeah -- I could even feel it when you -- went." Gene said. "The glass slab all of a sudden pushed down harder, without your prong t' help hold it up."
"The pressure's coming down the fuck harder on my balls too," Wesley almost cheerfully reported. "I think they'll go next."
"Don't bet on it," Gene said. "Right now, it's like--"
"Something starting to tear loose?" asked Lief.
"Yeah. Like that."
"Right," said Lief. "Here -- I -- go!"
As the glass top pressed ever harder on Gene's own shaft and balls, he watched Lief's broad glans burst. Blood and crushed flesh mixed with Wesley's as both men's organs blended with batter and spread to touch Gene's still-intact glans. Lief's balls ruptured a few moments later -- then Wesley's -- and then Gene's own balls abruptly split open. His prong lasted a moment longer, and finally burst with an almost orgiastic jolt. For a moment, Gene watched his crushed glans merge with the red pulp from Wesley's and Lief's shafts, then raised his head and met Wesley's gaze.
"If it weren't for this fucking clamp," Wesley sighed, "I coulda shot my load just then." He took a deep breath and stared down at his flattened genitals. "Well, almost."
"Yeah?" Gene licked his lips carefully. He rubbed his chest with his right hand, stroked his tensed abdominals with his left. "Even mashed flat like this, I can still feel that bottom plate gettin' hotter--"
"-- and hotter --" said Wesley.
"-- even fucking hotter than that," said Lief. "Think we're starting to cook yet?"
"I don't just the fuck think so," said Wesley, "I fucking know my meat's cooking. See how the waffle-batter's starting t' turn brown 'round the edges?"
"Yeah," sighed Gene. "The pressure -- I mean, I still feel what's left of my balls bein' squashed even flatter, but mostly it's the heat -- gettin' roasted -- baked -- whatever the right word is -- anyway, numb or not, I can sure tell I'm cooking -- bein' roasted alive. And the whole thing -- like Wesley says -- it's kind of a turn-on, 'specially watchin' you two studs keepin' me company -- the three of us bein' crushed and cooked and castrated into one big meat waffle." He patted Lief's back with his left hand, patted Wesley's rump with his right, and felt an answering squeeze on his shoulders from both naked guards. He turned to Miklos, who now stood between and just behind Lief and Wesley, and asked, "Okay, now what?"
"It'll be a while -- fifteen minutes, maybe? -- there's a timer. And then--"
"Lunch?" asked Gene.
"Lunch," said Miklos. "Straight, or with butter and syrup? It's real butter, too; I've been saving it."
Gene glanced at Lief and Wesley. "I kinda favor havin' the works, but you studs decide."
Lief looked at Wesley; Wesley looked back. Lief shrugged his big shoulders; Wesley said, "You put in the most meat, so..."
"...I get to decide? Let's go for the works, then." The big blond patted Gene on the back. "After all, if it weren't for you..."
"Yeah?" Gene felt himself grin. "Thanks for -- for everything, stud." He turned to Miklos. "Okay, then -- butter and syrup it is." And as the shop foreman trotted away, he turned to Lief again. "How 'bout him -- does he get any?"
"Why the fuck not?" asked Wesley. "He's gotta make sure the timer's set right for the next three studs who get themselves waffled--" He gestured at the slowly browning remains of their crushed and baked genitalia. "--and as heavy as we were hung, there's plenty for all four of us."
# # #
They chatted quietly until the timer rang. The top plate rose a few inches, letting out a puff of waffle-and-meat-scented steam. Miklos released and removed the top, carefully cut the waffle from the three clamps, and then unlocked the clamps, leaving -- to Gene's surprise -- a metal ring tightly gripping the stump of his shaft.
"Saves having to mop up afterwards," Miklos explained, as the three freshly gelded men stood up and shook the stiffness out of their legs. The naked shop foreman shifted the still-steaming waffle to a platter and led the three donors to a workbench where he put on butter and poured syrup. "And I almost forgot." He trotted t the milking machine, trotted back with a cup. "Here -- your own special ball-juice." He poured the thick, white cream that the machine had sucked from the four men's cocks onto the waffle. "There -- help yourselves."
At Gene's insistence, Lief took the first bite -- mostly of Gene's left ball. Wesley got the second -- including a chunk of Gene's right ball. Then bite by bite of an ever-changing, always delicious mix of baked balls and pulped prong, crisp waffle and thick syrup, all with the tang of their own ball-cream -- the four naked men lunched on what Gene, Lief, and Wesley supplied from their three-way castration.