Category Archives: Story

The Convict – Part 06

By Joshua Ryan

I was having a lot of strange thoughts and feelings. Right after Thanksgiving, Mr. Dietrich called me into his office and told me I’d be getting a promotion and a raise. Starting in December, I’d be an Associate Managerial Analyst, a big step up from Assistant Managerial Analyst, although it didn’t come near to getting me my own office. He said, “Congratulations, young man,” and I thanked him profusely for offering me the additional responsibility. When I looked at my pay stub a week later, I saw the change, but I didn’t feel anything about it anymore. On the one hand, it was more money. On the other hand, Joey would probably spend it. I didn’t care. He was welcome to the money. I just wanted out of it all.

And after Thanksgiving, of course, comes Christmas. I wasn’t paying much attention at first. I had too much else to think about, or try not to think about. Then one night I was in Berenson’s, looking for a new pair of slacks, and I noticed how crowded it was for a Tuesday night. That led me to notice all the evergreens hanging on the walls. The first thing I thought was, that’s the kind of stuff that Jake and the other cons are cutting out in the field. They’re cutting trees and brush. Finally I realized that I was looking at Christmas. It didn’t make much of an impression. What it meant to me, mainly, was that the days were getting shorter and colder. This part of the country usually doesn’t get a lot of winter, but we were getting a lot of it then. When the convicts went past in the morning they were wrapped up in their heavy coats, brown forms peering out of the white truck like reindeer on a Christmas card. And Jake was one of them. I looked at him every morning, but I hadn’t talked to him in over a week. And I needed to talk. The next day, I switched my schedule around at work, and I went out to meet him.

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The Convict – Part 05

By Joshua Ryan

“Jake,” I said, “aren’t they worried that you might just walk away from here?”

“Naw. Not really. I wouldn’t get very far. Not with my tatts. And not with these clothes! And then there’s this other thing.” He bent down and lifted one leg of his coarse brown trousers. There, on the leg, was an iron shackle! I’d never seen one before. I’d never even seen a pair of handcuffs. But this thing was incredible — wide and thick and as black as death, with a big old hinge on the back and two big rings sticking out on the sides and a thing like a tongue sticking out in front . . .. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. This must have been what I would have seen in those leg shots of his, if I hadn’t been rushing through them so fast . . .

“Notice,” he said, like a professor explaining what you see after you’ve dissected a frog, “there’s no lock. There’s just a flange and a rivet. And a couple of D-rings, in case they want to attach me to somethin.” He reached down and patted his iron. “This baby will never come off. It’s here for life. Unless you happen to have a blowtorch and a lot of anesthetic on you. Of course, I could try to escape, if I could just shed these clothes. But . . . ”

I gulped. That thing was monstrous. How guys could actually run across the field in an iron like that . . .

“What do they . . . attach you to?”

Continue reading The Convict – Part 05

Elevator Tickle Attack

By Jack

My buddy Jon and I used to work a retail job together. During one holiday season, we were working a gift fair in a large corporate office building down in the Financial Center. The merchandise was set up on tables, and we were using an SE/30 as a cash register and inventory control machine.

At night, we could just cover the merchandise with drop cloths, but we had to pack up the computer into a box and lug it up to the 33rd floor, to be locked in an office overnight.

This particular night, Jon offered to carry the boxed computer up, while I was in charge of the cash box (pretty lightweight).

Now, Jon is in his early twenties, a very clean-cut and handsome guy. He defines the term “jock”: extremely muscular, athletic, short brown hair, cocky attitude, very dry, deep voice.

When we entered the elevator up to the 33rd floor, it was well after 5:00 pm. No one was heading UP at that hour, so we were alone in the elevator. As I looked over and saw Jon struggling with holding that heavy box (easier to just hold it rather than to put it down on the floor of the elevator and then have to pick it back up again), I all of a sudden felt a mischievous streak rising in me.

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The Convict – Part 04

By Joshua Ryan

“What’s the matter, Jason? You look pensive.”

I was at the Alibi, which is a pretty quiet place, especially in the early evening; and it was Terry, the bartender, I was talking to. Terry got out of the Navy a year or so before, and he had that look that some of the ex-Navy guys keep. I liked that look, and I liked talking to Terry. “Pensive” was a joke between us. It was a word I had used one time, one of the many words that Terry had never heard before.

“Not really. Just drinking. Give me another one, will you?”

“Sure thing. But I still think there’s something wrong. You and Joey having a fight?”

“Joey? You mean the guy that’s always in my apartment?”

“That’s the one.”

“I never fight. I just like to be alone sometimes. Believe it or not.”

“Sure you do,” Terry said, pulling me another beer. “Since when?”

“Since now,” I said. “Since always. I hate the way these queers can’t be alone for a second.” I was so drunk, it was a miracle I got through that sentence.

“You do?”

“Sure I do.”

“Which means you’re thinking about some guy that you’d rather be alone with, all of the time.”

Continue reading The Convict – Part 04

The Inventor’s Incident With the Box

By Mister-X/Spartan

Todd awoke to the sound of all the ‘clicks’ of his restraints opening, as well as the slow rising of the lid of the box in which he was sleeping. He yawned and stretched his limbs and removed his blindfold and gag before rising out of the box, being careful when pulling his ass off the dildo which was part of the box. It was the start of another day. After taking care of his emptying at both ends, he shaved his chin, neck, face and scalp and washed his face. Then he went out to the kitchen to start getting breakfast. He was still dressed in his pyjamas, which is what he called the full rubber catsuit he slept in. He turned on the television to catch the news. He had set his ‘alarm’ to be a few minutes before the 7:00 newscast so he could catch the beginning. The lead story was about a big storm that was due to hit that evening and continue overnight.

While breakfast was cooking he did his minimal exercises to start warming up for the day. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and liked what he saw. He started thinking about the day ahead, and realized that it was the day for play with his friends. Since Todd didn’t have a regular job, living off the income from his inventions, he didn’t work a regular week and wasn’t that aware of which day of the week it was. His friends did do regular jobs, and their play would be on weekends, one of which began with this day. At the thought, Todd’s cock started getting hard.

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Busman’s Holiday – Part 06

By lthr_jock

Clark realised he had to get home as soon as possible – he dreaded to think what Vickers would do with access to his house. He twisted the key in the ignition and went to put the car in gear – and immediately realised that he had a problem. With his right hand on its usual position on the wheel, he couldn’t reach the gear level. Instead, he had to slide his right hand around to the bottom of the steering wheel. He growled and drove off, almost immediately jerking to a halt – as he has pushed down the accelerator, the chain between his ankles and wrists tightened and nearly pulled his hands off the wheel. In the end, he found that he could drive along with both hands near the bottom of the wheel.

As he drove home, he found that the best way to do it was keep slow and gentle. As a result, he drove along considerably slower than he would normally. To make it worse, luck was against him and every traffic light he met seemed to be on red. As he sat at one, waiting to start again a car pulled up beside him. He ignored it until the car sounded its’ horn twice. He looked across to see a pickup truck with two laughing men inside. From their slightly elevated position, the passenger could see down into the car and had a clear view of Clark’s predicament. He had obviously told the driver who had leaned across to see. Clark blushed and tried to ignore them, also trying to move to disguise the bulge that the cock tube was making in the rubber jockstrap.

“HEY! HEY!”

Continue reading Busman’s Holiday – Part 06

The Convict – Part 03

By Joshua Ryan

The executive lounge is on the top floor of the Freer Building. It’s very comfortable. There’s even a deck outside where you can catch a few rays or look at the stars if you’re working late. It was a good view, but not many people stepped outside to enjoy it. Like Peter said, how much ass can you scope in an industrial park? And at breaks, everybody sort of expected you to keep with your group. There was one guy who stayed in his cube and read, and he was regarded as totally antisocial. I didn’t have enough guts to do that. But I was tired of Peter and his stupid jokes. So I started using the deck.

I knew he’d be watching out of the corner of his eye, so at first I just strolled around, glancing over the railing at this and that. But then I looked for what I really wanted to see. Down below, at the edge of Phase Two, the convicts were moving closer. Already the pile of rocks had come about a third of the way along the fence. The cons in the harnesses pulled the bin across the field, and the cons on the chain pulled out the rocks and laid them in line. Then you could see what looked like guys with hammers, going after the rocks to get them in shape.

“Making little ones out of big ones,” Peter said, on the one day when he surprised me by leaving the group and coming out on the deck. “Same thing that an old queer does when he’s naked.”

Continue reading The Convict – Part 03

Busman’s Holiday – Part 05

By lthr_jock

Clark drove home, his persistently hard cock a distraction as he drove. As he drove, his free hand wandered down to caress his cock and he could feel it leaking, and the need to cum became more and more urgent. He pulled over into a handy layby and nipped out of the car into the bushes. Pulling his cock out, he only had to jerk it 3 or 4 times before exploding all over the leaves of the bush. Blushing furiously, he tucked his cock away and returned to his car for the drive home.

Once back, he quickly grabbed a shower and changed into some sweats, then logged onto his computer. The first thing he did was send Vickers a message. “Hey, great bit of kit again. Thanks. Hope to see those pics soon.”   He then started to browse some of the sites he had found previously and soon found himself stroking his cock again.

After a couple of days, Vickers sent him an email. “Pics have been posted on my site. I have a ton more here, but too large to send by email.” He had added a URL and Clark clicked on it. Vickers’ site was all to sell his bespoke metal bondage gear. He checked around it, and under the heading “Yoke” he found a set of pictures in an album entitled “Samuel.” Vickers had photo-shopped a generic looking head onto Clarks shoulders and then blurred it slightly. He had also photo-shopped several backgrounds in. The photos looked amazing, and Clark tried to make copies but the site wouldn’t let him. He snarled in frustration and fired an email off to Vickers about it.

Continue reading Busman’s Holiday – Part 05