It was the shorts, ultimately, that were his undoing. Can you see them, my brother? That gray flannel material often worn in gyms stretched so tightly of those high pert glutes. That rivulet of sweat that grows just so above the crack? These images you see, I know, are as clear as memories to you, who share my very self. You have seen him, before. You know this one, and have looked into his thoughts as I have done. He is cruel, and cocky, and extraordinarily vain. Hatred, swims through every self absorbed pore neck and neck with lust for the women he has abused. Some nights amusing himself by driving around looking for fags to bash. He is the type best left alone. But there were the shorts. I was cleaning up in the gym area when he came in to shoot a few hoops. He has not bothered with any other clothing, not even socks, just the shorts, and crosstrainers. Shirtless, we see he is surprisingly hairless despite pure Sicilian ancestry, The narcissistic bastard devoted all his time to maintaining a perfect body with exorcise, and rigorous diet. At all times each perfectly trained muscle, sleek and spare, was coiled with seething, kinetic tension waiting to spring upon anyone foolish enough to challenge his inviolate masculinity. He is fast, mean, and tightly wound as a starving panther. He was already pissed of, having struck out with a cool blonde nurse last night, and every perfectly defined muscle was quickly covered with a light sheen of sweat, and testosterone. I shouldn't have, but you, who share my heart, know I was unable to help myself. I just couldn't take my eyes off of those shorts. These are not designed to be provocative, there simple, standard issue, gray sweat shorts, but on him they are more intoxicating than if he had been wearing a thong.. The humble gray material strains to cover the thick basket, and the pert high curve of his melon ass, which juts out abruptly, a solid bubble, from his surprisingly thin waist . Only the prominent apex of the curve, keeps the stretched fabric from hugging the lower curve back to the ripe thigh. Instead it shades those bulging muscles like a caf… curtain. I long to see that lower curve, yet where the fabric pulls taught over those full ripe mounds, I am mesmerized by the play of muscles rubbing underneath the soft gray flannel stained by rivulets of sweat.
My reverie is shattered by the most damaging weapon in his limited linguistic arsenal.
The basketball slams into my forehead with speed, even you would find impressive. My round wire frames shatter across the room.
"You lookin at my ass FAGGOT?!"
I stammer, well played fear.
You wonder why I don't use my powers to defend myself.
I want him to enjoy my fear, to build up, really enjoy his superiority.
The usual tough guy challenge and posturing ensues. He asks a few rhetorical questions, to which no answer is possible that will save me from an ass kicking.
I fuel his anger, by playing the sniveling wimp that most disgusts him.
"You a faggot? Faggot."
"I'm gonna fuckin kill you, faggot"
and he nearly does. This is what you do not understand. Why do I let him? Through the blood trickling in my eyes, I can see him. I can feel the heat of his rage, like sitting too close to fire.
I feed on his hate. I want to absorb it, so I can give to back to him completely.
He is raw power. He is an animal. He is… delicious.
I manage to roll under a bleacher to avoid the reign of blows. He starts to follow, but his train of rage is cut short by a silvery cool voice.
"Am I interrupting something?"
The unattainable nurse is at the door. I must admit she is icily stunning. A tall Scandinavian type blonde, skirt just short enough, without seeming trashy. Silk blouse subtly drawing his eye.. just as required.
"I'm sorry I was a little cold last night" She releases the first few buttons, and licks her lips. "I've been thinking about you all day"
He looks at me/her, at first, in disbelief, and then a sneering smile grows across his stubbled face. Of course she wanted him. Kicking the shit out of some faggot made him hard anyway. Forgetting where I was, he swaggers over to where I now am and, making sure to flex a bicep, raises an arm protectively over my cool blonde head, and leans close, teasingly into my borrowed face.
This one doesn't waste time with courtship formalities, and neither does my nurse character.
I invite him back to my place. At least he offers to change, but "Inga" won't hear of it, I like him just as he is.
You know where I have taken him, well not exactly where it is. But you have seen my little "atelier" You know what I keep there. You know what I do there.
To his eyes, it looks like a tasteful, if spare apartment. I have thrown in a few Laura Ashley patterns, and stuffed animals. It's what he expects from "chicks" . His cock is now thinking for him, and it does not notice that we seem to arrive in no time at all, or wonder how we even got there.
Already I have taken hold of a part of his mind.
Eager, he wants to lose the shorts right away, but "Inga" wants to play a game.
He is game for this game, and happily raises those massive arms to be bound above his head. To him the energy rays that tighten around his wrists feel like silk scarves.
Join me now, brother, as I step back to admire my work, the hunky fly that has stepped into my parlor.
Do you see him there? The bound stud, his weight resting on one lean hip, like a classical statue. Sebastian sans the arrows… for now. Sweat still running in small tears down that flawless torso.
I have a feather. It traces along his square jaw, down the neck, deep in between those over-defined man tits. A detour to torment those pointed wine red nipples, and tickle the black hairs under his arms..See? see how he shudders?, and back down that same Andean valley past rows of rounded writhing abdominals, swirling in circles at the heaving belly button. His breath so deep now, and down the treasure trail to the waist band of those tenting shorts. He is ripe, now, for the plucking.
He can bear it now longer. He growls. He calls me "bitch"
I stand on tiptoe to meet his face. He leans into me. His kiss is hungry, need-full, and insistent. A starving beast, at once as spare, and lush as his baroque torso.
He kisses me with the same mindless passion with which he beat me. He kisses me of his own free will. It is the last time he will do so. It is the last time he will know completely free will.
Our loving exchange allows me, like a fisted virus, to grab hold of his cerebral cortex, and override his will, implanting my own.
I love what happens now.. now.. when he pulls back and sees.. me.
I am clouded to you brother, it must be so, for I fear you may try something.. unwise.
But I am not bad you know. Rather hot, in fact. I too have beautifully defined abs, full pecs, and a pleasingly v-shaped torso. Apart from my pale blond head , and pubes, I am hairless. My features are sharp, blue eyes, slightly slanted, I am, well, a cute well built guy, but not massive and head turning as is my prey.
But I am not so unappealing as to earn the look of revulsion that inhabits his masculine visage. In fact I think we look good together. He yanks desperately at the silk scarves to discover, the crackling bonds of lightening which unnecessarily bind his thick forearms so invitingly above his struggling torso.
I am again greeted with a torrent of "faggot"s , and threats on my life, but, this time, not followed by fists.
I grab his dick, as tightly as I hold his mind. I am rewarded with a grimace, and what feels like a steel baseball bat. That reacts to my impulses now. He is beginning to understand.
I feast on that torso for a while, eating away at the ticklish hairs under his arms. You know this is not my goal.
I slither around and begin with the base of his neck just below the buzzed stubble that would have been a hairline, and follow that long inviting road of wriggling spine to what I really want.
Do you see my other self? Do you see how from this angle, those flawless mounds look like gray covered hills?
I kiss down the small of his back, curving down from those huge delts tapering to the tiny waist, and down where mouth meets flannel. This fabric is slightly water resistant so my saliva does not saturate, I taste dirt, and sweat, and poly blend. I bite into a flannel covered rock. The flesh is incredibly firm and resistant, like a nearly ripe apple. I have to bite hard to grab a hold of the unyielding muscle. He growls in pain.
As you know, most of my victims are weeping in fear, or shame at a point like this. All that comes from our new friend is defiance, and hatred . He will be a favorite.
I am now the ravening beast. I want to devour every inch of this pert, dimpled hardness. I squeeze possessively with both hands. I smack, my superpowers, now come into play, I stretch the fabric even more tightly. The sight of these perfect globes pushing against the over strained fabric is nearly unbearable. I reach in-between, pulling the thick cock out from the jockstrap and behind, so that I can see the best part of both sides. This hurts him. I like that.
I pull the shorts up for a one sided wedgie and see the naked lower curve for the first time. It rides beautifully high , and dimpled, an inverted shelf above the juicy thigh. One last all encompassing lick of the fabric., dark with my saliva, before yanking these beloved shorts away. I destroy the jock strap with one bite.
Look my brother, does not your mouth water with mine? He is frantic now within his bonds. Too much, I use my mind to control his motion. Something more undulating, I think… there. Do you see how I present it for you? Is it not perfect? Apple, melon, what is the right metaphor for this perfect round ripeness I display so enticingly for you? Words fail.
Mine anyway. His come in a torrent of ragged obscenity.
"Shhh shh", I stroke the magnificent haunches gently, as if to calm a crazed stallion. "You will grow hoarse" This only enrages him further. It is like music, as I fall again on that nude, and helpless ass.
'You have been a very bad boy haven't you? I know who you have abused, bashed, and you must be punished" The olive skin turns red under the severe spanking I apply. The naked skin stretched taut over his ass feels so good under my avenging hand. He issues threats, but does not cry out
Next I use my long, long tongue. I follow a line of sweat which slowly creeps to the top of the cleft, and works into that musty brown pucker. Disturbing currents of pleasure rush into his blown mind, but he will not allow. He bellows, and bucks. I answer by squeezing his dripping cock..
I stand behind him and whisper into his ear "You might grow used to this over time" I tease the hole with my own rigid member. I am thick there too, and very long
"I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU, YOU FUCKING FAGGOT!!"
I enter, just to the point where I knock at the interior sphincter. His mind is, at this point an open book to us. He realizes how much such a thing can hurt. Do you feel him tighten in anticipation of the onslaught? They all make this mistake. It only hurts more.
I pull out, wait for a sigh of uncertain relief, and stab back in. My balls smash against the cliff wall of his ass.
He tries to double over into a fetal position but is bound high. Alternating between his tits, and cock, I keep all of his tender spots guessing, as I slam mercilessly into that sweet tight hole. The buzzed head falls forward, shocked into a swoon and I release the energy bonds. I am a jack hammer, I follow his limp form down and nail him flat into the floor. Telepathically maneuvered hips rise to meet the assault.
He groans as he returns to nightmarish consciousness. Our minds melded, yours, mine, and his, his cock responds as mine rigid and hard at the thought of his own rape he grinds it into the ground, and back up to present his ass.
The sight of this ruined perfection before me brings us all to aching climax, and I feed him my super human seed in steaming spurts, as his own puddles on the ground beneath him, sticky, on the flat sweaty stomach.
I look at him there. That naked, ruined ass raised high just for me. I lay on top of him and whisper in his ear.
'Do you love me?"
"I will kill you , fucking faggot"
"Good. I have taken your body, but you still hate me" I nibble his ear. "I have broken some of you too completely"
My hand trails freely along his exposed ticklish side.
"That will make fucking you so much better"
"Rest for a bit, then you may go. You will find you will know the way out, and back again, for when I want you… Your dick will tell you that."
I turn back, as if in afterthought, and grab the slightly longer hairs on the top of his head.
'When you come back, make sure you wear these'
I stuff the filthy shorts in his mouth and let his head drop heavily on the ground.
"I have plans for your ass in these."
I chuckle and leave.
Did you enjoy my little transmission?
You are good at math brother, how many is it now? How many have I recruited in this fashion? My army is nearly complete now. Think of the power.
Won't you join me?Next page