By Pickle

I had been deposited back on the cowpath exactly in the spot from where I’d been abducted.  I was again dressed as I’d been before it all happened, and seemingly no worse for wear.  I lay there face-down on the muddy cowpath for a few minutes, soaked to the hide from the rain that was pelting down upon me and covered in muck, just trying to gather my wits.

I had memories of what I thought had happened but wasn’t sure if they were real.  I thought I MUST have been hit by lightening and it had short-circuited my brain enough to give me those hallucinations, but I felt fine … better than I had ever felt, really REALLY good in fact.  Kind of euphoric, but also full of energy and strength.

I felt around to the back of my neck, and sure enough, there was a slight, thin ridge.  I’d be checking that out with mirrors as soon as I got inside my farmhouse.  I checked my watch and it was only a little more than an hour after I’d left the cottage.  In my mind, it had felt like days that I’d been aboard that starship, if I indeed HAD been.

I MUST have just had a lightning hit, and blacked-out.  I thought of going back to the cottage to check with Steve if anything had happened to him, but I figured he’d think I was nuts if he didn’t remember being aboard the ship too.  I decided I’d leave it alone till the next day and booted it back to my house through the pelting rain.  I kept looking up to the heavens but there was no sign up there of any alien ship.  I half-chuckled to myself and thought, ‘I must be crazy’ to even slightly believe any of this had happened.  ‘There was just no fuckin’ way!’

I covered the kilometre to my barnyard in record time.  This energy I was feeling was totally insane.  I felt almost superhuman.  I wasn’t hungry or tired, so I went right into the gym set-up in the barn and worked out till it was time to milk the cows.  I have to say, that process felt far different than it ever had before that hallucination I’d experienced on the way up from the cottage last night.

It was odd remembering how much I’d felt like livestock, and if it HAD happened, actually WAS livestock.  Fuck, I’d been nothing but a bull being milked for his semen!  Pickle milked for his “brine.”  I half-smiled at that thought.  I suddenly imagined myself locked in a cattle yoke in a stall.  Bent over with my ankles spread wide and locked into shackles with my arms pulled up behind me, locked into a strappado position. My balls were tied and yanked down to some maniacal winch in the floor between my feet.  My cock engorged and dripping “Pickle juice.”  For a split second something in my twisted psyche actually kinda liked that image.  The recognition of that fact scared the fuck outta me, so I pushed it out of my head forcefully … and fast!    There was no way in Hell I wanted to be trapped, controlled and used like a farm animal! … Was there?

By the time I had finished milking the herd and had led them into the field, I still wasn’t hungry or tired.  I went in the house, showered, and stripped down.  I caught sight of my six foot-one, muscled body in my full-length bedroom mirror, and it was obvious to me I looked more pumped-up than I’d ever been.  I also couldn’t help but notice, my cock looked larger, both in length and girth even in this flaccid state.  I had to be imagining all of this.  Maybe my eyes were just misbehaving since I was operating on no sleep.  I felt amazing though, so I took a closer look at my well-tanned, well-muscled body, scanning every inch of it, and I DID in fact look better than ever in every way.  I thought, “Well, I guess that was one helluva middle-of-the-night workout.  I’d better do that some more.”

I put on a pair of green military “silkies” I’d bought online and left the house for “Pickle’s Cove.”  I kept my sea kayak pulled up on the beach there, and thought I’d go for a long paddle after a good run up and down the beach several times.  I needed to expend all this new-found energy somehow!

When I got to the beach, there was Steve already running on the wide strip of white sand.  An unusual sight, since he preferred to lift.  Man, he was really moving!  Especially for a guy who rarely runs.  When I caught up with him I realized his breathing was normal and he’d barely raised a sweat on this hot August morning. It just didn’t make any sense since he’d been tearing down the beach like he was being chased by a man-eating gazelle!

As we greeted each other, I realized he looked about five years younger than when I’d been hanging out with him the previous evening.  Neither of us mentioned the bizarre carousel ride that I was beginning to suspect had been more than the lightning strike induced delirium I’d been wanting to believe it was.

We ran up and down the kilometre-long stretch of beach for an hour before I decided to switch to my sea kayak.  I paddled out to one of the small islands that lies 8 km offshore, got out, and decided to lie on the narrow strip of beach there for a bit.  I needed to think about what I was now beginning to believe had happened to me, to my buddies, and to several other guys as well.

I had seen the change in my bud Steve, and I wondered if the change in me was equally obvious to others as it seemed to me.  An actual alien abduction was the only way I could make all this energy and extra strength make any sense.  I wondered what all this strenuous activity might be doing to my heart, but then I “felt” words in my brain, “You have been made completely healthy by the serums we inject into your body and the gel we surround you with in the extraction pod.”

I knew then I was being monitored by whatever beings had captured me and the others the previous night.  The thought scared me, I’d always been leery of “Big Brother” from electronic devices but had never even imagined I’d ever be spied upon by aliens.

I lay there on the beach, stretched-out Vetruvian Man style, and soaked up the sun while looking up at the clear blue sky and listening to the waves at my feet.  I reached one hand behind my neck and again felt a thin wire about an inch long in a vertical position at the base of my skull.  It was so thin I could barely feel it, but it WAS there, where there had been nothing unusual before last night.

We HAD been abducted!  The realization hit me as if I’d stuck a wet finger in an empty light socket.  Faaaawk!

Deciding I might as well get a full-body tan, I stripped off my shorts and just lay there on the narrow patch of island beach, sky-gazing and feeling the Earth spin under that immense beautiful blue sky.  I noticed not only the colour of the sky, but the intensity of everything I viewed seemed stronger, and deeper.  I had been changed, “super-charged” in some way that escaped my intellect and understanding.  I nodded off into a deep, relaxing, hypnotic-feeling sleep.  Relief!

I awoke feeling less stress, and concern about what had happened to me and the others. The sleep on the beach made me feel like ‘life is good!’  I pulled on my shorts and paddled back to “Pickle’s Cove.”

Steve must have been watching for me, and he came running to greet me as I pulled the kayak far up onto the beach, away from where the tide could take it.  He offered me lunch, and I was happy to accept it.

During lunch he happily reminded me I’d lost the bet the previous night and said, “It’s a great day, and the timing is just about perfect.  The tide is coming in and you might as well pay-up now and get it over-with, Pick!”  He told me he’d like to make me as uncomfortable as possible, so he wanted me fully clothed for it.  The two of us have a YouTube Channel where we have videos of ordeals we put each other through for losing bets.  Kind of frat hazing shit.  Guys being guys humiliating but harmless fun.

Steve wanted me sporting a “country boy casual” look for the “hazing,” he said my arms look really pumped from the row out to the island and back, so I should be sleeveless but he wanted clothes on me so the soaking would feel worse than on bare skin.  The sand would get trapped in my clothes and chafe a bit as waves washed over me every few seconds, and the clothes would cling to me.  He was making sure I was truly going to hate having lost last night’s bet.  He said, “Hey Pick, it’s a great look on you anyway, folks on YouTube, like ya like that bud!”

Once we finished lunch, and he was done rubbing in what was about to happen to me for losing, I ran back up to my house and changed into faded jeans and a white, red and grey checked button-down shirt that I’d long ago cut the sleeves off.

I strolled back to the beach in a much more sedate, if not reluctant manner, but it felt great walking in the sun on that gorgeous day, feeling every bit “the country boy” wearing this sleeveless shirt with my shirttails flapping in the light breeze.  I knew I looked pretty good if those aliens happened to be watching somehow, and kinda chuckled to myself at the thought of some alien getting off on my rugged masculinity and boyishly sexy good looks.

By the time I got down to the beach, Steve had obviously been hard at work pounding five wooden stakes deep into the sand.  I knew he wanted me clothed, so I wondered what the fifth one was for but I had my suspicions.

“You look great bud!  Just perfect for takin’ a little bath, Pickleboy!  OK, Dill, pull your junk outta your jeans.”  I objected, saying we’d have to edit the vid for YouTube, smudge ’em out or something and it’d be that much extra work while editing.  He said, “Don’t you worry your pretty little farm-boy head about that Pick, I’ll do this one.”   I knew he had me kinda cornered since I’d agreed to the bet, so I gave in, pulled down my fly and got my junk out through my fly.

Steve said, “Hands behind your head, Dill.  Lace your fingers and keep ’em there while I do this.”  He took a rawhide strip out of a bucket nearby where it had been soaking and expertly lassoed my cock and balls, separating my balls and wrapping the narrow rawhide strip around my nut sack, making ’em good and tight.  By this time my boner was at full extension, and he tied it off with the rest of the rawhide at the base.  The erection wasn’t going to be allowed to go down anytime soon.

He tied another length of rawhide to the trap he had my nuts tied into and gave it a good yank.  I let out a yelp, and a “Fuck YOU bud!”  Steve replied with “A bet’s a bet, Dill!  Yer nothin’ but human cattle now bro.  … C’mon!  It hit me that this was the second time since the abduction I’d thought or heard the phrase “human cattle.”

Steve led me down to the water’s edge where the sand dropped off steeply, about two feet down from the high tide line, and told me to get down on my gut between the stakes.

He’d dug a shallow trough between the four stakes and laid wet seaweed into it and then sprinkled it with some dry sand.  I knew that sand wouldn’t stay dry for long. He planned to make me as miserable as he could for losing that bet.

I got down first on my knees, and then on my stomach, pulling my shirt down so it wouldn’t bunch up under me, as I got in position.  The seaweed got me soaked immediately even through the sand.  My own weight squished the water out and through the now wet layer of sand.  There was little enough sand sprinkled on top of it that I could feel the slimy sea vegetation through my shirt.  It was like a combination of lying in slime and sandpaper.

“Ok Pickle, spread those guns!”  I did as I was told and he expertly created rope cuffs for each wrist and then yanked first one arm out to its stake and then the other.  He used his full 225 muscular pounds to get a good stretch on me.  Fuck!  He was really planning to ‘get me good’ for this one!  My arms were already well-worked from the paddle and I knew in this position my shoulders would soon be complaining a little.

Steve then made equally expert rope cuffs for my bare ankles and gave my legs the same treatment.  Yanking ’em out good and tight to their stakes.  Man, he was really stretching me out.  Felt like the guy had super-human strength.  I knew the guy was strong from wrestling around with him, and when he helped me out on the farm a bit but man, he was fuckin’ racking me!

I was now lying in a very tight, face-down spread-eagle, with my head about two feet lower than my feet, with the waves creeping up with the tide.  Right now it was still about five feet away from my head and about two feet lower.  The psychological effect of my situation was already affecting me.  I knew Steve wouldn’t allow anything to happen to me, but he had me in deep shit, and I was beginning to squirm a little!

Suddenly my buddy reached under my stretched-out crotch and grabbed my goods, pulling ’em out and back.  He took the rawhide he’d attached to the cuff he’d made around my balls, and using all his weight, pulled them back to that fifth stake he’d pounded into the sand behind me.  At this point he took a bucket I’d noticed he had sitting in the sand and went to the water’s edge and filled it with sea water.

“I think you look a little too comfy, Pick my boy!”  He said as he slowly poured the cool water over my head, shoulders, back, ass and legs.  He then went back for a refill and used that water to make sure the rawhide was remaining good and wet.  One more refill and he soaked my entire body again.  I was drenched and stretched, and VERY uncomfortable.  Just the way he wanted me.

Steve seemed a little extra evil in his fun with me today and seemed to be taking just a little too much pleasure in this pay-up.  He’d been taking pictures as my bondage progressed and had a couple video cams recording all of this as he went.

As he was re-wetting the rawhide it dawned on me why he was doing it.  The thin strips would shrink in the sun.  The strip he’d wrapped thoroughly around my cock and balls would squeeze the fuck out of ’em, and the long cord he stretched out to the stake would pull them harder and harder, stretching them back to it.  They might as well be attached to a ratchet rope, but at least THAT would be a human controlled stretch.  The sun would show no mercy on how much that rawhide would shrink.  I hoped Steve WOULD take mercy on me.

He took me out of my thoughts with, “OK, Dill, let’s get ya real good boy!”  He produced a dowel that had been sharpened at one end and pushed it against the inside of my right elbow.  He pushed really hard, enough to bend it, even with the tough stretch my arms were already in.  Once he was satisfied he pounded it into the sand keeping my arm even more stretched and now somewhat bent.  He repeated the procedure on the other side.

I’d already been well and truly screwed before he did these added touches, but this was above and beyond the call of duty.  I wasn’t just uncomfortable, Steve had me hurtin’ big time! I was going to have to think up something REALLY good to get him back the next time he lost a bet with me, but right now I honestly couldn’t think of a damn thing that could top the situation he had me in right now.

The tide had come in about a foot closer to my head while he was fine-tuning my spread-eagle, and once he was done he put a foot on my right ass cheek and with an evil chuckle, told me not to go anywhere, and not to worry TOO much.  Then in his best Arnold imitation, said, “Awhl be bach!”  As I turned my head I could see him walking away from me toward the cottage.  I watched as he disappeared up the bank and thought, ‘Holy fuck!  He’s not gonna leave me here to drown is he?’  I wondered if the aliens had fucked up his brain somehow, and if I was in real trouble here.

After a few minutes of staring toward the cottage I finally saw him at the brink of the bank carrying a lawn chair and a cooler.  He was definitely planning to let me sweat this one out for a good long time.  In the time he’d been gone, the water had crept up another six inches closer to my head.  The tide was coming in way too fast for my liking.

Once he reached me, Steve-o set up the lawn chair about six feet to my left and placed the cooler beside it.  He said, “Hey Jimmy boy.  You look like ya could use a beer!” And with that took a bottle out of the cooler, screwed off the top and placed it into the sand about a foot off to the left of my forehead.  He then sat down in the lawn chair, pulled out a beer for himself and cracked it open and let out a deep, macho, and slightly evil-sounding laugh.  “What’s the matter Pick?  Don’t feel like a beer just now?”

He took his time drinking the brew and then got up and checked his rope-work, making sure nothing was coming loose.  He also checked the rawhide tying my nuts to the stake, first feeling it and then giving it a tug.  “Gettin’ tighter Jimbo?”  I just gave him a grunt in reply.  Being a good sport only went so far, and I was feeling like this was above and beyond the call of duty.  He laughed again and said, “Let’s git ’im good, boys!”

With that little taunt he grabbed the bucket and went to the water to fill it again.  Since the waves were coming closer all the time, it was a slightly shorter trip than his last time.  He said, “You must be gettin’ kinda cooked by now, huh Picky my boy?  Maybe we’d better cool ya off a little so ya don’t get heatstroke” and he dumped the bucketful on my restrained body.

He went for another bucketful and made sure the rawhide all got well-soaked again.  The rawhide he’s wound around my nuts was squeezing the pre-cum out of ’em already, and my engorged cock felt like it was going to be sliced off by the way he had it tied around the hilt of the thing.  My junk was getting yanked so hard toward the stake they were tied to, that it felt like there was a draft horse trying to pull me across the sand and up the bank behind me by my balls.  I was really starting to hate my buddy Steve!

“Aww Dill, I guess I’d better give ya a little pleasure in all this pain huh?”  He went to the cooler and pulled out a length of clear aquarium tubing and stuffed one end into the bottle of beer near my head and the other end into my mouth.  He laughed and said, “After all Pick, what are good buddies for?”  I could feel the smirk on his face without even lifting my head to look at him.

I knew what he was doing.  He wanted me to need to piss, but I was so thirsty at this point I had no choice but to drink that elixir that tasted more amazing just now than it ever had in my life.  It took work to pull it through that length of thin aquarium hose, but it was worth it, and even though the beer was now warm from the sun, it helped to cool me down a little.

By the time the beer was in me the sun had dried me off and the rawhide was shrinking even more.  The pain in my balls and crotch was getting pretty unbearable.  This was fuckin’ torture, and I said that to my buddy.  He just laughed and said, “What’s yer point?  Deal with it Dill!”

He reached into the cooler, pulled out another beer and placed it where the other one had been.  “Guess I’ll be nice and let you have this one while it’s still cold.”  I knew I shouldn’t drink it cuz it was going to make me piss myself before I was out of this predicament, but I was so hot and thirsty at this point I had no choice.

By the time I’d sucked it down, the tide was had crept up another foot or so, and every now and then a wave would touch my face as I lay with it on the sand, looking at Steve enjoying another beer himself.  He was pacing himself and keeping a good eye on me though.  I hoped I was going to be safe even though he was really messing with me. He liked to make me squirm in the way a big brother likes to make his younger brother squirm, and he enjoyed humiliating me for our vids, but he’d never been this sadistic with me before.

He got up, replaced my beer and allowed me to down about half of it before pulling the tube out of my mouth and saying, “I think you’re cut off Dill.  This’ll do ya a lot more good now if you wear it.”  He slowly poured it all over my head.

He had been listening to his favourite playlist, from the time he’d “fine-tuned” my spread-eagle, but through earbuds, so the time wouldn’t pass any easier for me.  He didn’t bring a wifi speaker so I could have some idea of how much time was passing from the number of tunes that were going by, I could only guess at that from the distance from my face the water was.

It wasn’t much longer and the waves were close enough that I had to lift my head to keep my face above the incoming waves, but every once in a while one would wash over the back of my head in spite of my effort to keep my head above water.

Time passed, and my body was aching from the nasty stretch Steve had put me in, and my cock and balls were in agony from the shrinking rawhide.  My neck muscles were being really challenged by having to lift my head enough to keep my face out of the rising tide.  My wrists were staked so that my arms were at a shallow angle out to my sides and above my head.  My wrists met with the water maybe a foot before my forehead and they were now submerged completely.

Now almost every wave buffeted my upraised face and washed over my back.  I could feel my wet shirt clinging to my back and sides, and the seaweed under my belly was feeling clammier than ever.  I also had to piss worse than I’d ever had to piss in my life.  My bladder was in major pain from trying to hold it.  Steve would never let me live it down if I pissed myself.  He was sadistic enough he’d tell our other mutual buddies about it and rub it in every chance he got.  I could just hear him the next time we’d all be playing poker, “Does the itty bitty baby Dilly boy need his wittle diaper?”  Even though we are best buds, he took great joy in taunting me whenever he could, and I knew I’d never hear the end of this one if I let my bladder relax.

The water was rising more and more, and the waves were making me really splutter now.  This shithead of a buddy of mine was waterboarding me with the tide, and he was having a great time watching me struggle and spit the water out and shake the salt water out of my eyes.

This was getting worse and worse, and I was really starting to get scared Steve was going to let me drown.  I figured another ten minutes passed.  I was really fighting to keep my head above water now, lifting my head, neck, and as much of my shoulders as the tight spread-eagle would allow, up out of the waves.  The tide was now high enough that every wave was smacking me in the face.  I was spluttering, coughing and choking in the horrible tasting salt water.  ‘Fuck!  I’m gonna die!’  The waves were washing over me and even my toes were now getting wet.  I could feel the back of my shirt washing up and down the small of my back with each wave that hit me.  The sand and small pebbles that were being carried in the water felt like dermabrasion with number 40 sandpaper.

Steve let me suffer like this as long as he dared, and then I felt my left arm relax and float a little in the encroaching tide.  Then the other was released, and he lifted my upper body up onto my knees.  I couldn’t control my coughing and then puked my guts out from the combination of the amount of salt water I’d swallowed and the beer I had drunk, basically through a straw in the hottest part of the day.  He gave me some bottled water and then untied my ankles, and the rawhide anchoring my cock and balls to the stake.

He pulled me over onto my back and with a hand under each armpit, dragged me up toward the cliff behind us.  Since I was too exhausted to move of my own volition, he splayed me out there and tromped hard on my gut with his bare foot a few times.  “Just wanted to make sure we got ALL the water outta ya, Pick!” he laughed.

As I helplessly lay there, Steve went to work untying my cock and balls.  When he tied them up he had wound the end of the rawhide around and around my cock, lining each wind up against the next so there was no cock flesh showing except the tip.  All this rawhide had shrunk considerably in the sun and my junk was completely deformed by this intense squeezing.  He pulled the end of the cord and painfully “helicoptered” my cock till it was “free at last.”

He then began untying my stretched and squished balls.  I felt like he had been trying to castrate me with the damned rawhide.  Man, I was going to get him back as soon as I got a chance.  Fuck, I HAD to come up with a perfect way to torture him!  “Slow, cruel and inhumane” were words that were in my mind right now.  Except for the fact that I could kiss him for rescuing me, I’d like to kill him for the treatment he’d given me, even though I had agreed to go through it for losing the bet.  I hadn’t imagined he’d make it THIS bad!

He asked if I could sit up yet.  I tried and failed, so he went back to the cooler, grabbed a beer for himself, cracked it open, and plunked his muscular butt down on my gut, side-straddling me with his legs full-stretched out in front of him.  That position put his full weight on my abs, and he bounced a few times just to make sure I noticed.  I had!

I pissed myself, and he grinned an evil grin at me and chuckled.  “You got me a tad moist there, Dill!  Guess the boys are gonna hafta hear about this,” he smirked.  He finished his beer and trotted off to the water and had a short swim to wash my piss away.  I had propped myself up on to my elbows and watched him do an impressive, muscular butterfly stroke through the waves.  The man was HOT!

Steve had left another bottle of water beside me before he headed for the ocean, and I sucked it down as he swam.  It revived me enough to be able to get to my feet.  I stripped off naked and went to join him in the water.  I too could do a pretty impressive butterfly and showed off a little with it before switching to a crawl, and then a relaxed backstroke.  It felt good to move my aching limbs and get the muscles moving.

Before last night’s little trip to the spaceship I would never have revived this fast after the type of ordeal I’d just been through.  I know too that before last night’s trip to the ship, Steve-o would never have made any pay-up that tough!

We both stopped swimming and started horsing around attacking each other, water-wrestling, and play punching each other.  It felt good.  God I love being a guy, but especially at times like this.

When we got bored with the roughhousing, we got out of the water.  Steve gathered up the empty bottles and put them in the cooler as I took my piss-soaked clothes to the water’s edge and swished them around to wash them out.

We then headed up to the cottage where Steve loaned me a pair of his spandex boxer-briefs while my clothes dried on the line, and we sat out on the deck drinking a couple glasses of Scotch and checking out some of the pix he’d taken of my ordeal and having a look at some of the footage he’d taken with the video cams.  There’d be a lot of editing to do, since he just let them run the whole time.  Good thing he’d put in big SD cards!  Man, he was going to have his work cut out for him editing this stuff down and covering or blurring my junk in shots, so it could be used on YouTube.  We also had an OnlyFans account where we could show the works, and figured this little payback would bring in a bit of extra cash for both of us.

Steve looked over at me and I could tell he was scanning my body.  He said, “Man, you look extra-good today, Pick!  That salt water in your lungs must be good for ya.”  He winked, got up off the deck step we’d been sitting side-by-side on, and leaned over and gave me a long kiss.  The look he gave was an invitation to follow him inside and into his bedroom.

To be continued…