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Story

Human Cattle – Part 05

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By Pickle

No sooner had I agreed, then he went over to a counter at the side of the barn and took something from it.  It was Pravilo wrist cuffs.  I’d seen this Russian workout machine that stretches you out with weights while you do exercises designed to be done on the machine.  When I saw it on YouTube I couldn’t resist going to their American distributor’s web site.  The more I checked it out, the more I knew I had to have one.  I caved in and bought the whole set-up.  It took half a day to get the thing set up when it arrived, even with Steve’s help.  It was one of the few pieces of exercise equipment I had that I’d not bought second hand.  It’s a cross between working out and going to the chiropractor all-in-one.  The cuffs are really comfortable and don’t crush the heel of your thumb into the palm of your hand the way a lot of suspension wrist cuffs do.

Stevey boy came over and said “Your wrists, soldier!”  I lifted my arms out in front of me and held them there while he strapped the specialized cuffs on them.  He then reached into his duffle bag, routed around a bit, and came out with a short, metal spreader bar, with a chain attached to each end, and a ring in the centre of the chain.  He walked over to the switch for my electric winch and lowered it to his chest and hooked the spreader bar onto it.  He then brought it a few feet over to hold it in front of me, and grinned.

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Story

Human Cattle – Part 04

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By Pickle

The dawning of the next day proved pleasantly mundane.  I awoke in my own bed, back up in my farmhouse. The responsibility of owning livestock meant I’d reluctantly had to leave Steve’s bedroom in order to bring the cows back up from the pasture and get them into the barn in order to do the evening milking.  Once again the milking process made me think of that night on the spaceship.  That was only the night before last, but it felt like a year ago already.

I had no idea Steve was gay or even bi … or till that kiss, that he had ever looked at me in any way other than as his best buddy.  I was happy but still a little surprised by what had transpired, and I wasn’t entirely sure at this early milking hour that it actually had occurred.  I sucked back several strong black cups of coffee, and I was halfway through my third one before I could even begin to believe it hadn’t been some weird dream.

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Story

Human Cattle – Part 03

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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.

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Story

Human Cattle – Part 02

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By Pickle

I woke up stretched out in a narrow spread-eagle over a large arch of some kind.  I had long fantasized about those medieval wheel-shaped racks, and wondered how long I could tough it out on one.  There was some deep, twisted part of me that truly wanted to know how much I could take on one of them.

Now here I was, stretched out fully, arms above my head, torso stretched tight, bent far enough backward that when I lifted my head I wasn’t able to see my legs beyond my upper thighs. I was naked.  During the period of blackness I’d experienced, these insect-like hombres stripped me and attached me to whatever I was on. The stretch wasn’t painful, but I was definitely stretched taut on this thing.

At first I thought they had tapped into my brain and found my kinky desire to be put to one of these racks.  Any time I wanted to rub one out fast I’d put a couple pillows on top of each other and lie arched backward over them presenting my gut “front and centre,” stretching my abs out.  If I poked or punched myself in the navel in that stretched-out position while masturbating, I’d usually shoot my load within a minute or two at most.  Saves time when you’re a horny guy but have a million farm chores to get done.

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Story

Human Cattle – Part 01

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By Pickle

I live in farm country and my nearest neighbour and best bud, Steve, is a fella who rents my seaside cottage.  The small building, not much more than a shack really, is situated on a cliff overlooking about a thousand metres of a beautiful, private, white sand beach.

The beach has come to be known as “Pickle’s Cove” by the other locals who all know me by my nickname.  A cowpath leads from my farmyard down through fields that go all the way to the cliff.  It’s a good one kilometre walk down to the cottage, and I always enjoy the stroll.  Meadow grasses and wildflowers grow at the edge of the fields on either side of the lane, and during the day there are all kinds of insects buzzing, flying from flower to flower.  The combined smell of honey and vanilla from the clover, the scent of the salt air, and the feel of the sun beating down on me on the stroll is always wonderfully good for my soul.

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Story

The Inescapable Canvas – Part 02

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By THHoudini and yohan555

Chapter 4 – Bound Desires

Nat woke up in the dark, not knowing where he was. He could not see anything. Then he remembered, Yohan had tricked him, tricked him in a straitjacket that was more than a normal asylum restraint. A straitjacket that was somehow magical and that had transformed and fused with his body. The darkness he lay in wasn’t just a void—it was a living, breathing beast, a predator that didn’t merely surround Nat but sank its claws into him, seeping through his skin, threading into his veins like a venom that burned and begged for more. It wasn’t silence—it was a symphony of torment: the creak of leather stretching taut over his thrashing body, the thud of his pulse roaring in his ears, the faint, slick whisper of spandex shifting beneath the straitjacket’s iron grip. That jacket—fuck, it really wasn’t a jacket anymore, he had not dreamed that. When the blinding white light had faded, it had shed its innocently looking soft clothing shell, transforming into a seamless, glossy shroud of black leather that fused to him from his broad shoulders down to the thick curve of his hips. No buckles, no seams, no escape—just a second skin that clung tighter with every breath, every twitch, every curse he spat into the void. It was still reacting to his movement, still adjusting to him as he moved.

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Story

The Inescapable Canvas – Part 01

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By THHoudini and yohan555

Chapter 1 – Beginnings

The rain pattered softly against the windows of the secluded cottage as Nat stepped inside, his eyes scanning the cluttered yet intriguing space. The home was a curious blend of eccentricity and artistry—shelves crammed with odd trinkets, walls adorned with peculiar paintings, and a faint scent of aged wood and oil paint lingering in the air. But Nat wasn’t here for the decor. He was here for the straitjacket.

Nat was a straitjacket artist, a hobby that had earned him quite a following online. He performed daring escape acts, twisting and contorting his way out of restraints with a grace that bordered on artistry. Nat loved the challenge, the thrill, the control he felt when he escaped a tight set of restraints, but there was more to it than that. The tight feeling of a straitjacket around his body, holding him snugly in place, gave him a sense of security that was almost intoxicating. And now he was about to go even further. He was here to experience the thrill of a truly unique straitjacket session, one that promised to be exciting and exhilarating. When he received the invitation from Yohan, a reclusive collector, who claimed to have a one-of-a-kind straitjacket, Nat couldn’t resist. Yohan described it as “inescapable,” and for Nat, it was the ultimate challenge.

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Story

Chain Gang – Part 09

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By slaveobjectx

I tell this story yet I have no name. I am addressed only as slave. I said I would survive but now I will tell you how I did. I had battened myself down in isolation, indifferent to the sufferings of my fellow slaves, concentrating solely on dealing with my own fate, feeling that help from any one else would not be forthcoming. Not from the guards, of course, who at best carried out their duties indifferently – I, as slave was merely livestock and they had received enough training to regard all the chained slaves as livestock, with no need to deal with us as anything but subhuman, owned animals. At worst the guards regarded us as outlets for their own private passions – to punish, to mistreat , to abuse, to debase, to degrade, to humiliate, to fuck.

Yes, I had resolved to survive; to find an inner strength that would see me through all that they could throw at me. I would not be subhuman; I would not be an animal. Though I might not be permitted to exhibit it in terms of physical behaviour, I would not allow them to take over my mind. I’d conform outwardly but inwardly I’d be free. Yeah, great thoughts but how to make those thoughts real? Everything conspired against that – the inhumanity of my physical position where there was no escape in any way from the reality of the chains and shackles; the treatment from the guards which was expressly designed to degrade, humiliate, prompting, at best, a desire to comply with every order, no matter how vile so that the idea of choice was eliminated. We were being programmed to become robotic in all responses, robotic in all our behaviour.

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