Robert was head lifeguard at an exclusive beach resort on the opposite end of the island from the Amazon compound. At 6'4", 200 lbs, with long, dirty blond hair, deep tan, hairy chest, and a mustache, he was a strapping stud in his late 20's who liked to wear skimpy bikinis to thrill the women when he walked around the pool. The pouches of his obscenely brief Lycra suits barely hid the massive meat of his sweaty cock and balls. Sometimes he would even wear a solid steel cock-ring to make his sex-equipment bulge out more inside its tight confines. Rob began working out to become a competition body- builder, and decided that he needed to have some body- revealing, custom-cut posing suits made for him. One day -- after he had, unknown to him, been under observation for weeks by two deadly Amazon manhunters - - he received an anonymous letter at the resort telling him that a new shop had opened up in town: a shop that would make custom-cut swimsuits, bikinis, and posing straps for musclemen. He decided to give the shop a try, and went there alone after work one afternoon. Rob was wearing construction boots, faded 501 jeans, dark aviator sunglasses, and a white stretch-cotton tank top when he opened the door to the tiny shop, which was out-of-the-way of most of the town's stores. Once inside, he was greeted by the two Amazon warriors in disguise, both wearing long white smocks like laboratory doctors. Never before had he seen two women near his exact same height, and Rob began to get turned on by the sight of the twin blonde beauties. "Welcome to Venus Fly-Trap! We are here to make you the most perfect man-suits you have ever worn," said the one Amazon. "Please, relax and try our new SportsDrink," said the other, offering Rob a cup of a dark green liquid. "Sure," said Rob, downing the drink. Later, he remembered that it tingled and burned all the way down, but at the time he didn't realize that he was being given a potent, brain-washing, man-weakening Amazonian drug. "Please go into our changing room, strip down to your underwear, and come back out," said one Amazon. "We need to take some very specific measurements." Rob, beginning to feel a little groggy but intoxicated that two such beautiful women were going to see him and his muscular body wearing only his tight, skimpy underwear, went into the room and began stripping off his clothes. Soon he had peeled off the tight jeans, tank top, and boots, and was down to his black nylon mesh string bikini -- with a studded leather cock-ring underneath. Feeling even dizzier but very sexy, he strutted out into the main room -- right into the trap the Amazons had set for him. The duo began using tape-measures to take Rob's specifics. One strode around behind him and tightly wrapped the tape around Rob's neck, almost cutting off his air supply. The drugged swim-stud coughed, but seemed unable to resist the pressure from the tape (which had been soaked in another Amazonian man- weakening potion). "Stand still!" the other commanded, as she began measuring Rob's inseam, poking up hard and deep into the weakened lifeguard's huge (and swelling) crotch. The Amazon worked her fingers up across the pouch of Rob's mesh bikini, squeezing and teasing his defenseless man-meat inside its cock-cage. The drugged stud, eyes shut, began enjoying the attention his confined penis was being given, grinding his hips as he was being manipulated down below. He soon started to throw a mighty rod into the side of his revealing underwear. "You have certain masculine qualities that require a very special suit-design," said one Amazon, as they both loosened their tapes. Rob, groggy, cock half- hard, was barely able to stand without swaying, and the two moved in for the kill. "Here," said the one, giving the dazed musclestud a quick kiss, "Put on this sample suit, and come back out!" She handed him a damp leopardskin thong. Rob didn't realize at the time that it, too, had been soaked in a man-destroying drug. He went into the changing room (which had hidden videotape cameras recording his every move) and stripped off his mesh bikini, tugging on the deadly man-trap thong. His penis was beginning to leak drops of its powerful sex-juice. Rob yanked up the drugged suit hard, pulling the fabric deep into his ass-crack. It was a bikini like the "Holster" he had seen in the Koala catalog: a vertical strip of stretch nylon that encased his cock like a holster encased a gun. Rob's "gun" was now fully at attention, all ten mighty inches standing straight up stiff inside the crippling confines of the suit that would become the symbol of his defeat at the hands of the punishing Amazon warriors. Rob smiled as he looked at his studly self in the mirror, not realizing that the drugs soaked into the suit were destroying his will to resist, rendering him completely helpless. He swaggered out into the shop to be greeted by a sight that made his virile blood come alive: the women had stripped off their lab coats and were wearing extremely brief leopardskin bikinis -- the same look as the suit he was wearing. The Amazons were wearing one thing Rob wasn't: sharpened spike heels, all the better to dig into the ball-sac of a male victim who would try to resist being captured. "Well, hello, muscleman!" the Amazons purred to Rob, who was spellbound by the sight of the exotic, erotic females. He staggered over to the two, who began running their hands over his buffed body. The Amazons had rubbed their hands in a massage oil that -- of course -- contained another native drug designed to enslave any man unfortunate enough to be touched by it. They started to grease Rob up, as if they were preparing him for a bodybuilding competition. The fully aroused, weakened stud was powerless to resist the Amazon's latest assault on his body. His massive manhood now throbbed and struggled inside its deadly cock-cage. "Whoa, ladies! Gettin'... hot... in here..." Rob gasped, almost unconscious, as the Amazons held him by the hair and began kissing him deeply down his defenseless throat. They took control of the waist- strap of his thong, slowly pulling up on it to increase the pressure on his captured cock and balls, forcing more of the paralyzing drug deep into Rob's most vulnerable tissue. The helpless lifeguard was about to become the totally enslaved sex-toy of the Amazon manhunters. The Amazons kept up their pressure, working their oil under Rob's strap, greasing up his huge, fully stiff dick. Incapable of resistance, the drugged, overpowered musclestud allowed the women to kiss him, fondle him, squeeze his rock-hard nipples, and even lightly finger him up the ass of his drum-tight bubble-butt. He began to moan as the women set in motion their final man- trap. "Pose for us, Rob!" "Yes, show off those mighty muscles of yours!" The request -- more of a command -- was too much for Rob to resist. He slowly went into a double-bicep flex as the Amazons moved in on either side of him. Straining his muscles to the fullest, Rob held the pose as the women began stroking the sides of his deeply tanned -- and now defenseless -- body. "Go for it, Rob!" "Hold that pose!" "You look like Tarzan!" He stood still as a statue, flexing like the stud he was. The Amazons nodded to each other and moved in tighter to Rob's sides. Each woman placed one hand next to Rob's neck, the other hand right at the base of his cock and balls. "And now, baby, you're going to hold that pose for a lot longer than you bargained for!" With that, the Amazons stabbed their sharpened, drug-dipped fingernails deep into Rob's neck and cock. The assaulted muscleman let out a howl as the deadly nails raked into his helpless flesh. The Amazons dug deep and quick, depositing a dose of the final drug they needed to capture the already-weakened Rob. The 6'4" swimmer sank down like a redwood, completely at the mercy of the towering Amazons. The two muscular women easily picked up the fallen swim-stud and carried him over to a padded steel ambulance gurney. First, they tied a collar around his neck, fashioned from drug-soaked vines, that cut down his air supply and further weakened the helpless macho- man. Next, they tugged down his new jungle-strap, unsnapped his leather cock-ring, and tied up the base of his sex-equipment with more vines. Then, they admired their handiwork -- kneeling down next to Rob, taking turns slurping over his huge, paralyzed cock, running their fingers over the captured, bronzed body of the unconscious lifeguard with the obscenely brief tan-line. Finally, they yanked up Rob's cock-strap, tucking his wrists in at the sides of the restraint thong to further bind him as they pulled his cock and balls out of the leg opening. Once they had him right where they wanted him, the Amazons pulled the straps on the gurney tight across Rob's unresisting body: chest, waist, thighs, ankles all strapped down. "Wake up, muscleman," said the one, as she sprayed Rob's face with what looked like a perfume atomizer. He immediately regained consciousness, although his paralyzed muscles were frozen, useless. And he was strapped down with restraints that would render King Kong helpless. "You're ours now, buddy-boy. We'll deliver you to the Queen of the Amazons soon enough, but the two of us want to have a little fun by sex-torturing you first." The dazed, abused stallion could hardly believe what had happened to him. "That cock-ring of vines will make sure your balls can't shoot your man-juice through that permanent hard- on we've given you -- not just yet, at least. Oh, we'll let you cum -- but it'll be a cum that you'll never forget, once we work you over with our little 'bull- buster' milking machine. The muscle-man hasn't been built who can resist the disabling effects of our milker! First, though, the two of us are going to have some fun with that huge piece of meat of yours." With that, both Amazons stripped off their bikinis. The one straddled Rob's paralyzed body and rammed his mighty cock all the way up her pussy, taking all ten inches in one deep thrust. She then used her powerful cunt muscles to strangle Rob's helpless cock, squeezing and constricting the life out of his captured meat. Meanwhile, the other one straddled Rob's face, smothering him and forcing his mouth to soak up a flood of her potent, man-destroying pussy-juice. Gasping for air, all he could breathe was a deeper draft of her snatch. "Tongue me, slave!" she commanded, as the defeated Speedo-stud gasped, eating out the walls of her pussy. The Amazons made good on their promise to sex-torture the fallen swimmer. The two powerful muscle-bitches took turns straddling Rob's face and cock, playing with each other's tits, scraping their nails over the defeated lifeguard's chest and thighs, poking probing fingers up his defenseless asscrack, slowly finger- fucking the weakened, unresisting jock. They reached under the waistband of his restraint strap and yanked at his bronzed pubic bush, pulling out his short-hairs one-by-one. They grabbed his balls and twisted them, squeezing Rob's mighty, low-hanging nuts to the breaking point. They slapped his face when he let out a low moan. And the whole time they rode his cock, as much as he wanted to, he couldn't cum a single drop of his white-hot, restrained jizz. But the Amazons came! After an hour of teasing and torturing the frustrated muscleman, they decided to move in for the kill. The Amazons nodded to each other and rode Rob's face and cock to the shooting point. The two of them screamed and shrieked as they brought themselves to orgasm, flooding Rob's body with huge blasts of their killer pussy-juice. They smeared their fluids all over his powerless body and face, further weakening him. The onslaught of their man-enslaving fluids coated Rob's face, chest, arms, and legs, completely covering his strapped-down body. The spent Amazons hopped off Rob, leaving his ten-inch tool standing straight up and practically begging to cum. "We think it's terrible the way we kept you from squirting your virile semen," said the one, "especially since you pleasured us so well, jock-slave. So we're going to make up for it by giving you the orgasm of a lifetime. "You swimmers use the term 'suit up' for when you put on your scanty little Speedos before a meet. Shoving that big, bad sex equipment into those daring little bikinis -- usually, when you're half-hard, just to let the guys know you're a real stud -- and then strutting your straining bulges all over the locker room. Those crotch-controlling bikinis are smaller and tighter than the ones that women wear. Well, baby, we're gonna suit you up with something you've never had encasing your cock before. Something that's gonna make your Speedo stud-suit feel like a breath of fresh air. The other Amazon knelt next to Rob, carrying a strange-looking device. It had a long, clear plastic sheath on one end that was attached by a tube to what looked like a small black calculator. On the other end of "calculator's" control panel was a clear plastic sac. The small panel had a knob and flashing lights on it. She began squirting some kind of thick oil over Rob's cock that caused it to tingle and throb. She used both hands to fully lubricate the helpless lifeguard's massive, tortured meat, as Rob slightly stirred his hips in response. Once she was finished greasing up the fallen musclejock, she tugged the clear sheath down tightly over Rob's cock, fastening it with a snap-ring at the base of his root. Attached to the ring were two wires that ended in tiny, sticky foam-rubber pads, which she attached to each of Rob's mighty balls. She stood up, smiling a wicked smile, licking her lips in anticipation of the sex-torture they were about to inflict on the overpowered bodybuilder with the very brief tan-line. "We're gonna give you the greatest orgasm of your life, stud-muscles. In fact, it's gonna be so great, it's gonna drain those mighty, cum-bloated balls of yours dry as a desert. "You see, this devious little device we've hooked up to your sex-equipment is a wonder of Amazonian science. It's a portable milking machine we call the 'stud- buster' -- because it can take any man, no matter how strong and powerful he is, and completely drain him of every drop of jock-jizz he's got. Men a lot stronger than you are right now, my weakened bikini-boy! "And once a man's drained of his jizz, he's drained of his strength, too. You might remain conscious, but the creaming we're gonna give you will last a good sixty seconds or more. Imagine -- a full minute's worth of blasting out every last drop of that virile sex-juice that you've got. And yes, even though your very desirable body is almost totally paralyzed at this point, you will buck and strain within your bonds as the orgasm wracks your muscles and strikes throughout your entire body and brain. And once you're drained dry, you're destroyed! You'll be taken back to our compound for another round of sex-torture and enslavement. "Well, enough talk... time to turn your nuts inside out, Tarzan!" The fiendish manhunter smiled and began to twist the knob on the black panel. The milker hummed into action, beginning its complete evacuation of Rob's balls. At first it was erotic to the helpless swimmer, and he writhed his hips in expectation of the kind of pleasure women had always given him in the past. But soon his pleasure turned to discomfort as the Amazon twisted the knob further, creating more and more powerful suction on Rob's encased, blood-engorged rod. The pumping action was brutal! Just as she said, the weakened, worn-down muscleman began to try to fight against the restraining straps that held him down on the gurney -- to no avail. The leather was too strong, too strong for Rob even if he had his full, powerful masculine strength -- which he didn't. "I'll fight you bitches!" he cried out, "I'll... hold back my cum!" It was obvious that the milker was already having a debilitating effect on the strapped-down Speedo-stud. "I don't think so, pussy-man," the Amazon said, laughing. "With all the drugs we've dosed you with, you'll be lucky if this machine doesn't suck your testicles right out of your ball-sac, along with all of your jock-juice!" She twisted the knob further, and Rob began to struggle mightily under the straps holding him down. Meanwhile, the other Amazon knelt next to him, grabbed him by the hair with one hand, and shoved her tongue deep down into his defenseless throat. With the other hand, she began to squeeze his unprotected nipples, then raked her nails over the sensitized flesh. She scraped her claws all the way down the front of his straining chest, across his rock-hard abdominal muscles, and down right to the edge of his waistband. Tonguing the powerless jock even deeper, the Amazon reached under the top of his thong and took full hold of his golden-brown pubes. As Rob gasped for air and struggled against the overpowering effects of the milking machine, the Amazon was yanking up on his short-hairs! She was ripping his bush out by the roots! That last attack on his manhood was too much for the once-defiant swim-stud. He arched his back to the fullest as the other Amazon cranked the milker up to its ultimate power. Rob was being forced to cum! All his resistance gone, the seduced, subdued lifeguard cried out as the first wave of cum-pressure hit his balls -- hard. Only -- his yelling was muffled into the mouth of the kneeling Amazon, who kept up her powerful lip-lock on Rob's defenseless mouth. And then it hit! Rope after rope of Rob's boiling, white-hot sex-juice shot out of his cock and flew up the tube, into the collection sac. He rocked from side to side, struggling in enforced pleasure as the deadly milker continued its assault on his masculinity. Jet after jet pulsed out of him as the other Amazon kept throating him and yanking up on his man-bush. Soon his yells were reduced to loud moans as less and less of his sperm gushed out of his trapped balls. Forty-five seconds into the machine-generated orgasm, all Rob could do was muster thin, watery dribbles of his virile essence. "No more... please!" he gasped, muscles contorted, face red, sweating body wracked with pleasure-pain as the milker kept up its killer grip on his agonized, exhausted balls. The tall, tanned pool- stud was almost totally de-jizzed. "What's the matter, stallion? I thought a lady-killer like you could cum all night long and not dry out! Looks like you're just about down to single drops of jizz. Did we unman you, Tarzan? Did we dry those big, bad balls of yours all up? Let's see if the powerless, strapped-down sex-jock has any sperm still left... The Amazon hit a button on the control panel marked "FINISH." The milker cranked up into overdrive, drawing the last few beads of semen out of the whimpering, shaking Rob. He arched his back and yelled one last time -- then fell still, out cold, victim to the overpowering suction of the Amazon's stud-buster. "A minute-twenty... not bad," said the one. "Looks like we milked out about a pint-and-a-half, judging from how full this collection sac is! Disconnect him and let's get on our way." The other Amazon unsnapped the root- ring from the base of Rob's cock, pulled off the ball- pads, and tugged the sheath off his defeated, enslaved donkey-dick. The sheath made a slurping sound as his cock sprang free. "NO! On second thought, 'suit him up' again. I've got a better idea." The other Amazon reconnected the unresisting Rob to the deadly milker. And Rob's boner was still hard as a rock! The Amazonian cock-ring vines had given him a permanent hard-on, even though his brutalized balls were sapped dry. Rob still had to be prepped for his journey across the island and deep into the Amazon's compound, where the Queen awaited her latest male captive. "Let's wake up Sleeping Beauty with a kiss!" The one Amazon popped a capsule into her mouth, leaned down, and kissed Rob -- shooting the capsule deep down his throat. In a few seconds, the native stimulant had revived the vanquished muscleman, who slowly shook his head from side to side as he came to. "Welcome back, Tarz-Ann! Now that you've been drained of all your liquid male strength, you're as helpless as a little girl! But we need to do a few more things to you to make sure you don't try to escape when we take you back to our compound. We'll start out by using that super-brief mesh bikini you wore in to our little trap. Remember your tiny black mesh panties? They're going to help do you in even further. Watch what happens with your Speedo-underpants, slave!" Rob stared up groggily, still dazed from the brutal forced milking he had endured at the hands of the vengeful Amazons. His aching sex equipment was all purplish-red and swollen from the man-breaking suction directed against it. And his beautifully muscled body was unresponsive, useless, still being weakened to the point of near-paralysis by the potent drugs coursing though him. The women stripped down their bikini bottoms across their powerful thighs. They took turns rubbing Rob's skimpy mesh undergear hard across their pussies, soaking his black bikini with their will-destroying juices. Once they had it dripping with their fluids, they knelt down next to him and rubbed it all over his unwilling face. Then they held his nose closed and stuffed the deadly garment deep into his mouth. They gagged Rob with his own bikini, oozing with juices that would further beat down his power to resist! The incapacitated swimmer choked at first, but the subjugating power of the Amazons' juices quickly weakened him even more. "That's better. How does it feel to be further destroyed by your own bikini -- that sexy symbol of what used to be your red-blooded, mighty manhood! And speaking of symbols of your manhood -- we have to subdue you even more, I'm afraid. That oil that we used to lubricate you for the milker can do a great many things to a man's penis, and you're about to discover another one of them. Let's bind up his cock!" Both women knelt on either side of Rob and tugged his thong-strap down low across his thighs. Then, each grasping his mighty stiffness with a claw-grip, they started to pull Rob's cock down -- milker-sheath, tube, and all -- to point it straight at his feet! He arched his back as the pressure increased on his bending dick, but the Amazons kept up their punishment until his full ten inches was bent down to the middle of his thighs, balls crushed underneath. And then they did the unthinkable -- they yanked up Rob's strap! His leopardskin loin-thong became a crippling cock-cage, trapping his massive, straining sex-equipment in a strength-sapping Lycra prison. As they did before, they tucked his wrists in at the sides of the skimp-suit's leg openings, to further restrain Rob and his aching, pulsating meat. As if that wasn't enough, one of the Amazons produced another tiny atomizer and began to spray Rob's contorted sex- bulge with a potion that began to cause his brief to shrink! "How does that feel, muscleman? Your bikini- strap is about to become three sizes too small for the size of your prize. Kind of like shrink-wrapping saran plastic-wrap around meat! The only way that tight baby's coming off is when we slice it off back at the compound -- leaving what's inside intact, of course. But no before we have some fun with it! "Guess why we kept you hooked up to the stud-buster! You're going to slowly manufacture more cum -- and we're gonna keep the milker on at its lowest setting. So as soon as you make it -- we'll pull it out of you! You'll stay drained and milked all the way back to the compound, just as weak as a little girl once we present you to our Queen. And don't try any funny stuff! With that, she gave Rob's tortured cock a sharp karate chop, and the defeated swim-stud winced in pain. "One more strap, slave." She pulled another leather restraint straight across Rob's bent-down dick, making sure to cinch it up as tight as possible to keep the muscleman and his captured cock in agony. "Two more details -- get the gas and the vibrator." The other Amazon produced a small metal tank hooked up to a clear plastic breathing mask. They strapped the tank to Rob's unresisting chest with surgical tape and fixed the mask across his mouth and nose. "This potent concoction of gaseous drugs, herbs, and women's aromas won't exactly knock you cold, Speedo-boy, but it will do some nasty things to your will, your ability to fight back, and your masculinity overall. You might say it's going to pussify you even more than you already have been, if that's possible And just for good measure, we're going to drive this micro-vibrator up your defeated ass, just to remind you who's boss." The Amazon turned on a tiny, battery-powered vibrator smaller than her little finger, and shoved it up Rob's unresisting butt. The overcome swim-stud was in no position to argue as the Amazons put their lab coats back on and pulled a white sheet across his paralyzed, well-muscled body. The milker kept up its insistent pressure, slowly pulling out every fresh drop of man-juice the helpless jock could muster, keeping him weak and de-jizzed. They wheeled him on the gurney into an ambulance waiting in the alley behind their shop, after they turned the "CLOSED" sign forward on the front door. And as they drove him off toward the compound on the far end of the island, Rob inhaled deeply and drifted off into a world of total subjugation at the hands of his worst masculine nightmare: unmanned and jock-tamed by the deadliest of cum-robbing, stud-busting Amazonian manhunters.