Don't Call It A Comeback

Boredom leads me to writing.

I complained that I didn't have much to fill my free time in the last post.  Thus being my weekend off of course leads to even more free time.

Saturday wasn't a problem.  The day started around 10 am with college game day and ended around midnight in the middle of the Oregon at Utah game.  Sunday though...  well it would have been a good time for t.v.  

After doing my normal morning web tour I perused this blog looking for... something.  Anything that could spark me doing something.  I read about how I wanted to help my family more... but really there isn't anything TO help my family with.  I read about how I didn't game much any more, but there isn't a game out that I want to play (that will change on Tuesday as Assassin's Creed Unity comes out).  I read about traveling, but it's not as though I can hit up Chicago for a couple hours.

And then I came to the beginning of this blog.  No.. not when I closed it off and started writing from a more personal perspective.  When I had intended this to be the place to write about writing a story.  I marveled at how much effort I put into setting up a story without ever starting it.  Writing out what I at least think of as a good outline, character bios... I even went through the idea of writing it as journal entries vs a personal narrative.  And in the end I just didn't do it.


There's plenty of reasons to consider why I didn't continue with the project.  I think one was my growing frustration with 'Caitlyn'.  It was far to early to put that out, but in early 2013 I was floundering about.  Just consider the mood I was in while writing "The Note".  Another reason was my tapped out creative well.  I just kept trying and trying and trying.  Between January 10th (the creation of this blog), and March 30th (a month past my last post here), I created 27 caps.  What little creative energy I had, had an outlet.

Well... I don't have that excuse now.  I"m in fact buzzing with creative energy.  Hell... I gave serious thought a couple days ago to making some caps under a pseudonym.  I know it would have failed, but at least I wasn't have my own weight of expectations on me.  In the end I realized that would have been a bad idea, but it shows just how much energy I have buzzing around the old brain bucket.

So after reading the first few posts here... I thought 'why not?'.  Maybe I don't have that feminine mindset.  Maybe all of the sensuality that I had will come out as merely TG porn now.  Maybe it will come out like a badly written soap opera.  Maybe I'll just start writing, trip myself up, and plant my face firmly and painfully into the ground.

But then again.... maybe I'll make a good story.

So without giving it further thought, I opened up word and started writing.   At first it was hard... really hard.  I had to keep going back to my posts here and figure out who I was writing, when it was happening in the story, and even the names and bios of those involved.  It wasn't too long before I had one page in MS Word.  Maybe about an hour.  That was 500 or so words.  I thought about stopping so that I could later come back and re-read what I had written.  Look at it with fresh eyes and decide if I was making a mistake in even trying this out.  But I was just getting to a moment of exposition... of letting some information out that I had been hinting at.  So I figured a few more minutes to 'finish the thought' wouldn't be so bad.

Those few more minutes ended up being another two hours.  That 'finished thought' produced another 2000 words.

Umm... Yay?

I find myself with time.  I find myself with excess creative energy.  I find myself with a story all set up and just waiting to write it out.  And most importantly I found myself enjoying it. Really enjoying it.

So for now, I think I'm going to continue this.  Since I have an incredibly limited audience here (Fourteen people are allowed in... maybe three or four ever stop by to read), I'm going to post what I've written here.  I don't know how often I'll update this beyond saying "I've written more", but for now I want to put this here.  If nothing else, it will serve as an example to me that nothing left behind is ever truly gone.

Understand, this was one pass at writing.  I didn't edit anything out, and already know that the last few paragraphs will almost entirely be deleted... to much foretelling of the story... in addition to tightening it up.  I'll undoubtedly have to edit it to fit the parts that come before.   But for now, here's what I have:

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“Sit Down Austin.”

I remained standing with my mouth slightly agape.  I’m not sure if it was hearing English for the first time in over a week, or hearing my name used as opposed to the number emblazed on my loose fitting smock, but my mind was abuzz.   It’s amazing how quickly one can get used to having their wrists in chains, their ankles connected by what can only be called a hobble chain, and being lead around only to be shoved into random rooms. 

This room was so different than anywhere he’d been in the past week.  It was… normal.  Shelves lined most of the walls filled up with manila folders.  A desk sat in the center covered by the same folders, along with a computer monitor and keyboard.  The lighting was soft and even as opposed to the hanging halogen lamps used almost everywhere else.  The light was further softened by a window looking out upon an idyllic landscape.  If it weren’t for the smock, the chains, or the kidnapping I’d think that I was in some kind of Doctor’s office back home. 

The man’s voice snapped me back to reality.  “Austin?  Sit. Down.”  The steel in his voice acted as a reminder that I wasn’t there voluntarily.  And that I only had two options… obey and end up a slave, or defy and win back my freedom.  The man looked up from the folder in his hand and sighed as I continued to stand.  Leaning over the desk he sat the folder down and pressed a button on his keyboard.  Speaking fluent Italian he spoke something and then sat down in his rolling comfortable office chair. 

Behind me the door opened up and I felt one of the bouncer’s hands on my arm.  While I still intended to defy any and everywhere I could, I knew better than trying to struggle against these beasts.  In short order I found myself sitting in front of the busy desk.  My hobble chain was connected to the floor through a conveniently placed eyebolt while my cuffs were attached to the chair’s arms. 

When the pile of muscles finally left the room, the man spoke in his calm and commanding voice.  “You are Austin right?”  A quick glance to the computer screen and then his eyes returned to me.  “Austin Chambliss of New York City?  Recent graduate from Columbia?”

He lifts up the manila folder and I see the photo paper clipped to the front is of me.  “Look Austin, this doesn’t need to be tedious.  You’re here so I can find out how best to progress you through the program… how we can best utilize your inherent talents and in short, make this as easy on you as possible.  If you help us, you’ll eventually find that your new life is pleasurable.  If you don’t… well then it’s just a game of randomness.  You may find joy, or live the rest of your life through a living hell.  So let’s start with the easy stuff… are you Austin?”

Part of me wanted to continue my plan.  Defy them in any way possible if for no other reason than it had worked so far.  But this might be an opportunity.  I can’t count how many people have ordered or pushed me around, and none had spoken a word or phrase that I’d understood.  It’s clear that I won’t learn anything from them… well nothing beyond what they are trying to make me do.  But this man… I can communicate with him.  If he turns out to be as commanding and cruel as everyone else, I can always go back to defying him.  No… this is an opportunity to gain insight on what’s happening.

Sitting up a little straighter in the chair I say “Yes, my name is Austin.  Why have you kidnapped me?  What is it that you’re doing to me?”

Smallest hint of a smile curled the man’s lip up.  “Good.  Very good.  That first step is always the hardest.  Now before I even acknowledge your questions I’m going to tell you some things.  I’m going to ask some questions myself, and you will answer them.  Only when I’m finished with the tasks I’ve set out for myself, will I answer your questions.  First thing’s first… your name is NOT Austin.  I used your old name only to ensure that I had the right subject.  We’ll eventually give you an appropriate new name and until we do you’ll only be referred to as schiavo or your number.   If you try to refer to yourself as Austin you’ll be punished.”

He glances down at the folder again.  “It says here that you’ve been quite uncooperative.  Your trainers and molders thought you were just too stupid to understand what they wanted from you.   But I can see from your college transcripts that you are quite intelligent.   A Bachelor of Business Administration from Columbia University in the city of New York isn’t an easy get.   I believe you were refusing to follow the most basic commands as a means of showing your defiance.  You wanted to show that you will not go along with what is happening.  Is that correct schiavo?

There was a part of me hoping that these people didn’t know what they were doing.  Or at least didn’t know who they were doing it to.  I mean who thought they could do this to an American citizen?  But that part of me ended up shattered into a million pieces.  Not only did they know I was an American, they knew my name and where I went to school.  They weren’t doing this to some nameless stranger… they were doing this to me.  Through pursed lips I croak out a simple “Yes.”

“Very good schiavo.  I’ll ensure that they know that you can understand basic tasks.  Therefore when you refuse to comply you can be properly punished.  If you take nothing else out of this conversation, take this; you do NOT want to be punished.  I know you may think that you’ve been punished already.  You’d be wrong.  So far you’ve merely been treated as a product.    Every product is cuffed and chained for their own safety.  Every product is put through basic testing and then modified to further enhance their abilities.  Speaking of testing and modification, it says here that you are unfit to be enhanced in an overtly masculine way.  I need to find out why.  If you’re unfit for masculinity modification then we won’t waste any more time in that endeavor.  So tell me schiavo, why don’t you think you took to the modifications?”

My mind was a blur of thoughts and emotions.  Punished?  They thought I was stupid?  They don’t consider chaining me up to a wall for hours on end a punishment?  But I immediately forced myself to focus back onto his words… they won’t waste their time if I’m unfit?  Does that mean they’ll let me go?  That’s my way out!  I just need to show that I’m unfit for what they want of me. 

I try hard not to show my glee as I quietly speak.  “Well… that’s just not me.  I know most guys want to be big and strong and impressive, but I’ve always thought that was… silly.  Men like that are always brutes and… I don’t know… stupid.  They always get the girl, but they never keep the girl.  You know?  I’ve always found that women like men that are… svelte.  Small even.  Men that know style and how to show a woman a good time.”

The man stats writing on some paper in the folder and nodding.  “Good… good.  This will help immensely shiavo.  Just from that bit of information I can find a far better path for you.  If you continue to be honest with me, I’m sure we’ll find something that better suits you. Not all of our products have to be muscle bound Adonis’s.  While those are far more profitable, we find it better to have happy satisfied products as opposed to ones that need constant monitoring and re-adjustments.  Let’s hone this in a bit more… you do like women right?”

I no longer had to hide my glee as it melted away all on it’s own.  Just because it wasn’t as easy as I hoped, didn’t mean that I couldn’t still use this information to get out.  I just had to ensure that I showed as little ‘profit’ as possible.  It took me a moment of silence to realize what he was asking.  I was finally able to stutter out “Uh… um… yes.  Yes, I like women.  You mean sexually right?”

The man’s brow furloughs as he starts flipping through more papers in the folder.  “Hmm… I don’t think you’re being honest with me schiavo.  It says here your first erection was with our male staff.  If you like women sexually… and yes that IS what I meant… then why didn’t you grow hard with our female staff?  If you like women in that way, then why did you remain soft as they worked on you?”

Oh God… how can I possibly answer that?  Think Think Think!  What would be the least ‘profitable’ for them?  “Well… I’m just not attracted to women like that.  Big breasts, hourglass figures, tight fitting clothes… they looked more like porn stars than real women.   I’m… um… more attracted to real women.  That’s all, really.  I’m NOT attracted to men.” 

He puts down the folder and leans toward me.  “Schiavo, let me tell you about the scientific method.   Everything we learn is evidence, but there are two types of evidence.  Objective provable evidence, and subjective evidence.  Seeing you get sexually attracted as a man manipulates you is objective.  There is video evidence of it happening.   You telling me that you were emphatically not attracted to men is subjective.  It’s your story coming from you so I have to put some weight behind it, but I put less weight behind your version than I do the objective truth that I’ve seen.  Maybe you are just attracted to men on a subconscious level… maybe its something that you aren’t even aware of yourself.  Until I can trust that you are telling me the truth, however, I have to put far more weight on the objective evidence of your arousal.  At the very least it tells me that you CAN be attracted and aroused by men.  Instead of classifying you as attracted to males or females, we’ll just put you down as sexually ambiguous. “

Leaning back in his chair and looking back into the folder, he continues on before I can offer even a mild protest.  “While knowing this about you is important, at this point it’s irrelevant.   You obviously aren’t going to be a good fit in our Adonis line.  All of our other lines would require far more expensive modifications, so we’ll simply reverse the musculoskeletal enhancements and return you to your natural state.  Now let’s see if we can figure out more about your general disposition.  Maybe there are a few lines that are better suited to your natural state.  Would you consider yourself more dominant or submissive?  Remember, honest answers help us both out.”

I still couldn’t get over being labeled ‘sexually ambiguous’.  But as it seems I had little choice in the matter, I focused on my original premise… be something that isn’t profitable.  “Dominant.   I like to be in charge.  I like to be the most knowledgeable person in the room and have everyone know it.”

Let’s just see how he can use a dominant slave!  Instead of the disappointment I so wanted to see in his eyes, I saw that hint of a smile again.  “Good.  Dominance is such a rare commodity these days.  Sure, we may have to modify it a bit, but there is a market place for a servant that gives strong honest opinions.  Especially knowledgeable ones.  Now let’s see…. You graduated with recognition from Columbia so we know that you have a good solid business education.   What other areas of knowledge do you have?  Art?  Music?  Style?  Sports?  Finances?  What are your areas of expertise?”

Profit.  I need to stay focused on profit.  Be useless… that’s the key.  “I guess you could say that I know a lot about women’s fashion.”  I had to pause and try to prove this lie.  All it really took was remembering what Samantha was always going on about.  “Jimmy Choo, Manolo Blahnik, Brunello Cucinelli, Gucci… I’m always following the leading edge of fashion.  And um… sports?  I’m a huge sports fan.”  Sprinkling in some truth into this just make it harder for them to figure out where the lies are.  And besides that, how the hell could they get use out of a business grad with specialties in women’s fashion and college football?

“Excellent schiavo.  You see this can go very easily.  Now I’ll admit that those skill sets together aren’t exactly in high demand.  But they ARE rare.  And rarity makes for profitability.  I can see two possible uses for specific customers, one of which requires a manner of sexual allure.  There is a Parisian woman that is looking for a stylist.  Someone who can manage her vast wardrobe and make sure that she’s always dressed appropriately no matter what event she is attending.  She finds that having a woman in this role is distracting, so she wants a man.  But this man cannot be attracted to her sexually.  You should fit this bill as she is quite glamorous.  A former model that most common men would define as drop dead gorgeous.   She’s married to an athlete, so once we teach you French you’ll be able to explain to her the intricacies of her husband’s career.  The other is the son of a local billionaire.  His father is famous designer and he wants his son schooled in women’s fashion.   He’s also quite the betting sportsman and could always use someone to help him make his wagers more profitable.  In addition to that, he’s a closeted cross dresser.  His father doesn’t want that getting out, so he’s looking for someone to aid his son in private.  Being that he’s not overtly feminine, even while dressed, he should match your desire for a more ‘real’ woman.

“So, let’s get you some testing and ensure that you can match up to one or the other.”

With the press of a button and a quick phrase in Italian, the man turned away from me and filed my folder away into one of his shelves.  I didn’t know what I could possibly say.   I had gone for un profitable, and ended up being something so specialized that I would ensure their profit.  My choices were between dressing a model repeatedly without showing any sexual attraction or being around a transvestite who would want to fool around!  How the hell could they even test these things, and how the hell was I going to make myself unfit while not letting him know I’d just bold faced lied to him!?

My opportunity to ask questions was cut short by one of my jailors entered, removed me from the chair, and guided me back to my cell.

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Yeah... I re-read it and still felt I could go further.  So I started writing the preceding part.  Maybe it's just the thrill of writing, but I believe this is another good part.  Squirm factor is set to high on this one.  Again, I wrote this in one go and it needs to be heavily edited.  But I won't be sad with another raw 3000+ words!


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Consciousness slowly came back to me.  It felt like rising to the surface of a very deep and very dark pool of water.  I’m lying down.  I try to move a bit to get in a more comfortable position, but all I can manage is turning on my side and dropping my head onto my outstretched arm.  I’m cold.  That doesn’t make any sense.  It’s summer.  It was a hot day out.  I don’t hear an air conditioner running, and I didn’t get the impression that the resort even had air conditioning.  I’m wet.  I can feel the water dripping from my face onto my bare arm.  Bare arm?

I’m naked. 

I move my body in the slightest manner and only feel the cold stone floor under me and my bare skin rubbing against more bare skin.  As if slowly waking up naked, wet, and laid out on a stone floor wasn’t enough to be wrong, there was something else.  The more I moved around, the more it became obvious that I was… different.  Something about how my skin felt.  I hadn’t spent much time laying around naked, so it’s not as though I had a lot of memories to compare this against, but there was something distinctly wrong.  When it hits me, it’s as though I come surging out of the surface of consciousness.   In one moment I’m barely able to move or think straight.  The next moment I’m pushing up to my feet and feeling my cold wet body.  I can’t find what I’m looking for.  Not on my legs, not on my arms.  My chest, my face…. Even my head. 

I have no hair. 

I’ve never been hairy by any stretch of the imagination, but I had a head full of think brown hair.  I had stubble.  I had hair almost everywhere before, and now I had none.  The lack of hair is disturbing in the extreme.  I can probably cope with the thought of someone undressing me.  I could probably cope with the thought of someone shoving me into a dark cold room and drenching me with some liquid… but someone shaved me?  From the tip of my now smooth head, down to the soles of my feet!?  They even got my pubic hairs and….

What the fuck!?  I’ve heard that shaving away your pubes can make the old captain feel bigger… but my cock feels practically huge.  I may have been a handful when fully hard, but I can barely get my hand around it and it’s as limp as a noodle.  Beneath my new meaty package, I can now feel my baby smooth scrotum… and again it’s not the ball sack I remember.  My balls are big and heavy inside of it. 

I’m surprised and blinded when a door opens letting in an entire summers worth of blinding light.  I squint my eyes nearly shut and can barely make out a silhouette blocking the light.  The shadow is one of feminine perfection.  Breasts lifting and holding themselves up.  A thin almost wasp like waist balancing over widening hips and the delicately beautiful slope of her ass.  I couldn’t decipher the color of her hair, but it was worn in a high tight pony tail and stretched down to her lower back.  Her giggle had the sound of an angel, and while she spoke in a language other than English, it sounded as though she were amused.  And if I don’t live for another moment longer, I’ll die happy knowing that I brought amusement to this woman. 

That is until I realized what was amusing her.  The more my vision cleared, the more I saw.  I saw that she wasn’t in fact nude.  Instead she was wearing a tight form fitting bra and panties… or maybe it was a bikini.  Her feet were standing up on tip toe as she was wearing tall slender heels.  Her face had an amused air to it as her eyes were directed down toward my crotch.  My crotch, where I had one hand holding up my super-sized cock and one hand cupping my heavy balls.  With an unintentional “eep” I moved my hands in position to veil my privates.  If I were alone, I’d probably be proud that I didn’t have enough hand to really hide it all, but as this olive skinned angle lifted her delicate hand to cover he further giggles, it only made me blush. 

Turning my back to her I cleared my throat and said “Um… could I get some clothes?  Or at least something to cover myself with?”

She answered, but being as she continued to speak Italian I had no idea what she said.  I took an embarrassed moment to look around and see if I could find my clothes somewhere.  While looking around I got a good look at the room I was in.  That we were in.  It seems that I wasn’t the only hairless wet man in this room, as there must have been a dozen of us.  All of them were athletically built with even limp muscles evident under their smooth skin.  Each and every one of them were also as well-endowed as I now found myself.   They all remained completely unconscious, making me wonder just how long I had been out.   How many times had someone come in and looked over my naked form? When I turned my gaze back to the beautiful woman I saw that she was approaching me.  She talked in a soft alto that was as comforting to hear as it was frustrating to not understand. 

When she reached my side she placed her small hand up on my arm and guided me toward the door.  Not really wanting to remain in this homo erotic fantasy of a room I walked out of the room and into a hallway of sorts.   She patted my arm softly and said something as she turned to close and lock the door.  Up and down the hallway were dozens of doors… all the same as the one I just walked from.   With the door latched, sexy bikini woman put her hand again on my arm and led me down a series of hallways and finally into another room.

I stopped one step into the room and resumed my ‘cover the twig and berries’ position as there were three new people in the room.   One was a large tall man that made me feel like a child in comparison.  He must have stood a good seven inches over six feet and even his muscles seemed to have muscles.   I could see each and every one of his fine muscular specimens as he was only wearing a cod piece and a thin leather vest.  His jaw looked as though it were chiseled out of a piece of marble and when he spoke it sounded like rocks grinding together.  I could only make out that he also was speaking Italian, and that he was simply calling the other people’s attention to me. 

I had thought that the woman guiding me to this room was the most beautiful I had ever seen, but evidently God made everything in pairs.  My guide walked sensuously over to what could only be called her identical twin.  Or nearly identical twin.  Same firm proud breasts, same wasp waist, same dark long hair in the same high tight pony tail.  The only difference I could see were their eye color.  My guide had dark mysterious brown eyes, while her twin had eyes of pale green. 

The third person was… well maybe she was only ugly in comparison to the twins.  Where their hair seemed thick and full of life, hers was a graying mousy brown.  Where their eyes were wide and full of mirth, hers eyes were half closed and drooping.  Where their skin was tight and soft and practically glowing, hers was pale, wrinkled, and drooping in ways that reminded me of a turkey’s wattle.  Their bikinis clashed against her long wool skirt, formless sweater, and white lab coat.   She had the air of someone in command, and of someone that didn’t give a flying fuck how they looked.  With a quick glance at me she spoke something quick and acidic while pointing toward an examination table. 

As she picked up a clipboard and put on a thick pair of glasses, I cleared my throat and said quietly “I’m sorry, but I don’t speak a lick of Italian outside of spaghetti, lasagna, and Ferrari.  Is there anybody here that can speak English?” 

Without even looking toward me, the old professor hag spat some words toward the beauty twins.  It’s funny how the same exact language can sound like auditory sex coming from their mouths, while it can sound like acid coming from hers.  The girls, to their credit, never stopped smiling and merely nodded toward her.  As if moving with one mind they together came over and with a hand on each of my arms, guided me to the table.   As I lied back they leaned in unison and whispered something in my ear.  I felt a twinge coming from my privates, but felt it quickly depart as I imagined how embarrassing it would be to lie here with a hard on. 

Just as the twins sauntered away, the old hag came and looked down right into my face.  Without saying a word she started examining me.  I tried my best to move as she wanted me, but she took no care in ensuring my comfort.  One claw of a hand opened my eyes up wide just so she could shine a bright light in them.   Sufficiently blinded again, I felt her hands move over my throat.  She felt all around my throat almost choking me before muttering something to herself and writing something down on the clipboard.   She picked up each of my arms in turn and using a medieval looking clamp like device took measurements of my shoulder, biceps, elbows, forearms, wrists, hands and fingers.  Another mutter, another set of scribbles. 

Taking out another device she pinched my skin and, I assumed, measured the amount of fat on my chest and abdomen in several areas.  While she was writing down her results I took the initiative and looked down at my body.  I’ve never been all that fit, but then again I’ve never had to work out to maintain my body weight.  This chest though… well I wasn’t quite as muscular as the Adonis over there, but I was certainly more muscular than I had ever seen.  It suddenly struck me that I must look almost the same as all the naked hairless guys in the room where I woke up.  I lifted a leg to take a look and got a glimpse of muscles I’d never seen on myself.  It was only a glimpse, however, as the hag took her clipboard and slapped at my naked thigh. 

The muffled gasp coming from my mouth was more from surprise than pain… although it did sting. 

She seemed to take another dozen or so measurements of my abdomen, legs and feet before saying something at me and gesturing up with her hand.  Guessing at what she wanted I stood up and resumed covering my crotch.  She moved across the room and set the clip board down only to pick up an expensive looking camera.   Returning in front of me she started taking picture after picture.  I could see from the movements of the lens that she was taking everything from full body shots to close ups of every part of me.   After dozens of shots she peeked over the viewfinder and commanded something of me.  I could tell she wanted something of me, but I had no idea what it was.  With a look of obvious impatience, she turned and said something to the girls. 

Before I knew it, I had one of these beauties on either side of me as they guided my hands down to my sides.  Oh God… she wanted pictures of my privates too.  Here I was, naked, cold, and surrounded by two beautiful women and one ugly woman exposing myself.  I felt my cock give another twitch.  While I would want nothing other than to take the new captain on a test run with one or better yet both of these olive skinned goddesses, there was just no way I wanted to be photographed with a hard on by this old mean woman. 

She continued to take a few more photos when she again peeked above the camera and told me to do… something.  Another look of frustrated impatience was followed by her turning and speaking to the mountain man.  I had completely forgotten about him when he chuckled and balled his fist up.  Raising his arm up slowly he placed his elbow in his own crotch and bobbed his arm up and down. 

It took me a moment to get it, but when I realized what she was asking I turned back to her and shook my head in an over exaggerated ‘no’ motion.  I was just done with following along and refused to get a hard-on in front of her.  Where I thought my refusal would anger her, she simply giggle and made baby noises at me.  She followed that by speaking quickly to the girl on my right.  I tried to follow along, but couldn’t get anything out of their conversation.  At least not until the beauty on my left spoke up. 

Everyone turned to her as she smiled and curled her hand up into a loose grip and moved it to and fro in front of her own crotch.  Inwardly I groaned as her intention was clear…. She could get me hard using only her hand.  I knew I couldn’t stand up to that… hell she could stand in front of me and simply touch herself and I’d get hard as a rock.  The women continue to talk for a moment as I resigned myself to getting a hand job from a beautiful woman, when they all turned and looked….

At him.

OH FUCK NO!  Finding myself figuratively stuck between a sexy rock and an intimidating hard place I spoke quickly and loudly.  “Wait wait wait!!  No.. I can do it.  I can get it hard!  Just give me a second.  There’s no need to get him involved in any of this.  Hey.  HEY!! Stop putting oil in your hand buddy, your services are not AAAHH!!”

My diatribe was quickly cut short as the twins pulled my hands behind my back and locked a pair of metal cuffs on them.  I tried to move back as the hulking man started toward me, but only backed into the table.  Unbalanced I fell lying back onto the table.  Before I could sit up he was standing over me.  Placing one hand in the middle of my chest he held me down as if my struggles where nothing more than an infants.   When his other hand wrapped around my cock and started its slippery trip up and down my length I turned to beg him to stop.

The words never made it to my mouth.  Turning to look at him made me realize that his position next to me placed his cock even with my eyes.  And it was getting hard.  I closed my eyes tight and turned my head away from his growing erection as he continued to literally manhandle me.  Even with my eyes shut I couldn’t escape his presence.  He started talking in a low almost soothing way to me.  For all intents and purposes he sounded like he was talking gently to a lover. 

As disgusted as I was with this situation I couldn’t help but feel my cock growing in his oil slicked grip.  His soothing words were soon joined by his hand moving lightly over my chest.  Each time I’d move he’d simply stop the motion of his hand and hold me forcefully down until I stopped.  Each time I’d stop he’d start moving that hand again.  As emotionally devastating as this was, it was simultaneously pleasurable.  Especially when his fingers found each of my nipples and pinched them lightly. 

Wanting nothing more than for this to be over as quickly as possible I started moving my hips, forcing my member to slide faster in and out of his hand.  I only realized what this must look like when I heard the twins begin to giggle and talk soothingly toward me.  I could feel a tear coming from my eyes as the women seemed to enjoy watching me hump this man’s hand.  I didn’t think this could get any worse when I felt one of their hands on my forehead.  Opening my eyes I saw those pale green eyes looking amusedly at me and saying something with a broad smile.  With a nod and a quick kiss on the tip of my nose she started turning my head back around.  Back toward him.   Any arousal I was feeling from my enforced hand job quickly left as his cod piece came back into my view.  Two delicately small hands were loosening the cod piece and dropping it to the floor.  As green eyes held me staring straight at this man’s impressive cock, brown eyes’ hands started jacking him off.  All the while pointing his cock right at my face. 

Time stood still.  The room seemed full of small sensual sounds.   The girls giggling and talking to each other quietly.  Deep moans of pleasure washed over me as the man obviously enjoyed the hands on his cock.  Quiet whimpers came from my own mouth as my only means of protest.   And worse of all, it seemed that brown eyes and hulk were matching their motions.   When her fingers reached the end of his cock and rubbed sensuously over the head, I felt the same motions.  When her hand reached the base of his cock and rubbed over his balls for a moment, I felt my balls simultaneously being massaged. 

I could feel my arousal return with a vengeance as I took the only safe harbor allowed to me… imagining she was giving me the hand job.   I tried my best to not think of how this sensual hand job would end... with my face covered in jism.  Soon enough hulk and my voices joined in pants and moans.  The only thing pulling me from my oh so public fantasy was watching her long fingernails gliding over the underside of his shaft while feeling his calloused fingers doing the same to me.   And that wasn’t nearly enough to stop my passions from rising and rising and….

As I watched brown eyes’ hand move off of hulk’s cock I felt his hand remove itself from mine.   But where he got to continue his passion by having her kneels and take him deep into her mouth, I was left on the burning edge.  I couldn’t even stop humping the air, knowing that it would only take a single touch to send me off. 

Instead of a touch, I heard the cameras clicks and clacks document the length, width, and girth of my cock.  All the while I watched brown eyes’ mouth bob up and down on hulk’s cock.  Another groan escaped me as I watched her take the entire nine inches into her mouth and throat.  Imagination was sadly not enough to mimic the hulks action as his hands grabbed the back of her head and scream out his orgasm.  I could actually see her eyes smile at me as she backed up and had him cum directly into her mouth. 

I didn’t realize what she was going to do until it was too late.  Maybe it was my arousal that made me too weak to back up.  Maybe it was green eyes’ hands till on my head that prevented me from turning away.  Maybe it was my still panting breath that prevented me from closing my mouth… or maybe it was just the completely overly erotic scene that prevented me from stopping her.  As her mouth plopped off of his still hard cock and turned toward me, I could see it was nearly full of white sticky cum.  Her eyes were magnificent as she leaned in and placed her lips over my open mouth.  Her tounge was merciless as it shoved all of the man’s cum into my mouth. 

My muffled protests didn’t even make her hesitate as she continued to French kiss me and feed me his still warm cum.  She didn’t stop until nearly out of breath I swallowed it all down.