Chapter 1 – ‘The Operation Gets Some Visitors’
Jason wasn’t supposed to see what he had seen.
He had gotten shit-faced because it was the weekend and he needed to unwind. Driving was a bad choice but he thought it wouldn’t matter in desolate western North Dakota. Who makes good choices when they’re toasted, anyway? Jason was having fun driving on unpaved back roads in his 2021 Bronco. The dirt and gravel were new to him and at first he had a death-grip on the wheel. Then the alcohol got the best of him. Jason got overconfident.
Jason couldn’t negotiate a well-marked, sharp, left turn and the Bronco’s stability control wasn’t going to save his ass. He went straight ahead and got some air. His pucker-factor was at a 10! He landed on all fours going down a tumbleweed infested slope. Jason was screaming “FUUUCK! OH FUCK! OH FUCK OF FUCKS!” as he careened down the hill.
The derby-worthy ride ended and the Bronco came to a stop on another road – upright! Jason looked up the path he had just made and was amazed he was alive – let alone conscious! There were blue and red flashing lights coming from just around a bend in the road. FUCK! COPS!
He had to get out of there! He came up with the excuse that someone had stolen his new Bronco as he was running. Williston, where Jason lived, was at least 18 miles away. It was going to be a long night. Then he heard the unmistakable sound of a pump shotgun. Jason froze! A man’s deep voice commanded “Kneel! Put your hands on your head! Don’t move!” Jason did as he was ordered, muttering “Fuck! Just what I needed! A DUI!” Twelve years earlier Jason had earned his first DUI. He was starting a new job and could lose it if he was convicted.
Two men pinned Jason’s arms and handcuffed them behind his back. Jason made a few protests about the rough treatment before a beefy hand went over his mouth, ending the noise. A third man rushed toward his face holding a tangle of leather. The hand holding his mouth shut moved and Jason felt something being pressed to his lips. In the darkness it was hard to tell what it was. But there were enough flashes of light that he could make something out. Is that what he thought it was?? A fucking dildo?? The cops are trying to put a dildo in my mouth?? Jason clenched his mouth and lips closed. It wasn’t hard to keep his mouth closed – until he got punched in the balls.
Jason opened his mouth to scream. The scream lasted only a moment. It was muffled by a rubber dick thrust deep into his mouth. The sizable cock pushed down Jason’s tongue, making speech almost impossible. He could still use his lips and move his jaw, though. Jason uttered “geh ihs hing oho mu mo” as he felt something going around his neck and getting pulled tighter. It was a fucking collar! By the way it forced his head up, the collar must’ve been 4 inches wide. As the collar was tightened, Jason could feel the gag come part way out of his mouth. They must have been attached somehow.
This was a slight relief for Jason. It didn’t last long. The cock was shoved back into his mouth and restarted Jason’s gag reflex. The big fake pecker raping Jason’s mouth was attached to a muzzle, and the muzzle had a lot of sturdy, leather straps. First, a strap was tightened at the back of Jason’s skull. This forced the muzzle and its mounted cock further onto his aching mouth, crushing his lips against his teeth. Then more straps went from the sides of the muzzle, up his cheeks, and got fastened on top of his head. Now Jason’s mouth was locked tightly around the painful new invader. There was no way he could move his lower jaw! As if that wasn’t enough, another strap, with a hole for his nose, went over the top of his head and got fastened to the back of Jason’s new collar. The straps were so tight! Jason’s jaw, lips, and skull felt like they were getting crushed.
Jason felt some thick leather cuffs being pulled tightly against each of his still cuffed wrists. Then he felt two of the men hold his arms while the third man undid the handcuffs. With the cuffs free, each man positioned Jason’s arms up and moved his wrists near the collar. Jason could feel his wrists being fastened to his collar. Two of the men turned and walked away. Jason could overhear one of them saying “Man, we’re getting good at trussing these guys up.”
The third man attached a chain to the front of Jason’s collar. He forced Jason to his feet by pulling on the chain. Then he started to walk towards the flashing lights. Jason had no choice but to follow him. Jason’s mind was spinning with thousands of thoughts as he stumbled to keep up with the man. Unless North Dakota policing had changed drastically since his last interaction with cops, this shit happening right now wasn’t standard for a DUI.
As they got around the bend and closer to the flashing lights, Jason could make out two Divide County Sheriff pickups and several other vehicles. Well, maybe this is what they do when there’s a lot of drunks to deal with, after all. His mind settled just a bit as he was beginning to accept his fate of a second DUI. But he was still pissed about his new, painful, way too tight head harness, and the thick rubber cock it kept lodged in his mouth. The Divide County Sheriff would hear about this!
The flashing lights of the police pickups went dark. Jason was scared.
Jason was beyond scared and instantly sober when he saw two Divide County Deputies held down on their knees, heads harnessed, and arms restrained just like his. They were pretty big guys. They probably ranched when they were off duty by the size of their arms. But they were outnumbered 4 to 1 with several shotguns pointed at them. Their futile head thrashing made it pretty obvious they didn’t like having big rubber cocks stuffed in their mouths with absolutely no way of pushing them out, either! Jason was pushed down on his knees next to the Deputies.
There was a lot of activity. Two semis were being closed up and then two smaller trailers pulled by F-350’s showed up. They had Saskatchewan license plates with a towing company logo painted on the sides of the trucks. The police pickups, much to the dismay of the Deputies, were being loaded into the smaller trailers. A handsome man of about 6 feet tall seemed to be in charge of things. Jason could hear him thanking the tow drivers for getting here on short notice. One of the drivers said “No problem Mr Tersend, always a pleasure working with you.”
Tersend got on a portable radio as the tow trucks were leaving. He was asking someone if there was room for three more. A voice came back and said “Yeah, but we’re on a schedule.” Tersend barked “I don’t give a shit about the schedule right now! Get me a prep team and three transport kits over here, pronto!” The voice came back, a little hesitant and said “Tersend, we’ve got to roll.” Tersend said “Unless you want me to get you prepped for transport, I suggest you do as I say.” The radio cracked back “Right away, Sir!”
Jason and the Deputies looked at each other with fear filled eyes. If they could say something, it would probably be “What the fuck are transport kits? What’s going to happen to us?” But their tongues and lips couldn’t form words anymore; they were only good for caressing the huge, life-like cocks anchored in their mouths. Tersend looked down on the men and said “You’re probably wondering what’s going on right now. I can tell you this much – you’re not going to enjoy it. But there’s nothing you can do to stop what’s about to happen to you, anyway.”
Tersend was handed all three of the men’s ID’s. He said “Deputies Grant and Owens. Well, actually, that’s former Deputies. Why did you have to show up here tonight? We come out to this area to transact business because it’s so isolated. But you had to fucking nose around, didn’t you! Dumbasses. You see, in our line of work, we can’t leave any loose strings. That’s why your patrol rigs are in enclosed trailers, probably in Manitoba by now, on their way to a Regina chop shop and scrap yard. And don’t get your hopes up, the trailers are insulated against any radio signals.” At that, both former Deputies, previously fighting against their new bonds, stopped struggling and stared at the ground. “As for you Mr Browning,” Tersend said “This is a bender you’ll never forget! May as well savor it because it’s the last one of your life.”
Moments later, three men on ATV’s, each pulling a small trailer, stopped where everyone was gathered. The trailers were carrying sturdy, injection molded cases that looked big enough to hold a washer and dryer set. “Glad to see Zahl came to his senses” Tersend quipped. “These are the new acquisitions. Get to work.” Just then Tersend’s phone rang. Jason and the former Deputies could only hear one side of the conversation, but it didn’t sound pleasant for Tersend.
“Yes Mr Weyburn.”
“Of course, Sir.”
“But we’ll only delay the shipment by a couple of hours.”
“I know, but…”
“Trust me Mr Weyburn, you’ll be happy we made the last minute adds.”
“Why does Zahl have to be such an ass?”
“Yes Sir, I’ll show my fellow team members respect.”
“No Sir, I don’t need to be transported to your location.”
The call ended. Tersend realized everyone had been eavesdropping on his conversation. He howled “I told you to get to work!” Tersend turned and started walking away. “As much as I enjoy watching this part, I’ve got other business to take care of. And take care of it I will!”
One of the men from the ATV’s, Rob Waters, stood before the three kneeling men and said “Who wants to go first? No volunteers? Look, you’re all going to get packaged up tonight for a very long trip, but somebody gets to go first. We normally prep men with a larger team; you’d all get readied on an assembly line. But most of our team has already departed and it’s just the three of us left. So it’s one at a time for you studs. Besides, it’s fun for us to look into your eyes as you’re watching us work. You’ll see what is going to happen to you while we package other men right in front of you – with no way to stop the inevitable.”
“We’re about to get very touchy with you three, and you’re about to get very touched. Everybody on the prep team is gay, so it’s no big deal for us to do the touching. You guys may not be gay, but you may as well get used to being touched by another man in places it’s never happened before.” With that, the three men descended upon former Deputy Grant.
Former Deputy Alan Grant, 34, was quivering as the three men approached him. They tried to lift his well-muscled 5-foot-8 body up by the collar chain. At first Alan resisted, then he decided to play dead and let all of his 195 pounds flop to the ground. “Brilliant!” thought Grant’s former fellow Deputy Luke Owens “We can wear them out until help arrives.”
“Fuck! Why do you guys think doing things the hard way is a good thing?” moaned Waters. “Styvers, get the winch. Holstrom, let’s get a rack set up about here.” Faster than anyone thought possible, an 8 foot tall ‘rack’ was put together right behind Grant. The quick release fittings, along with magnetic mounting points made for a speedy assembly. Owens studied the rack. It looked like a squat rack. Wide base, uprights, horizontal bars, mounting points. Mounting points!! WTF??
An ATV pulled up behind the rack and a winch unwound a cable that was tossed over the top horizontal bar. The end of the cable was attached to the mounting ring on the top of Alan’s head harness. As the slack was taken up, and the cable drawn in, struggle or not, so rose Grant. The winch was stopped just before the tips of Grant’s boots left the ground. The prep team secured Grant’s legs to the rack’s front uprights at his knees, although this was only temporary. Securing the knees to the uprights not only spread the man’s legs, but it rendered him unable to kick. This made it possible for the team to move in and remove the man’s boots. And the poor bastard’s socks.
Leather cuffs, just like the wrist cuffs each kneeling man sported, were placed on Grant’s ankles. Then, one leg at a time was held tightly by the prep team, its temporary knee restraint removed, then stretched out and the ankle cuff secured to an adjustable mounting point on the upright.
Grant’s legs were fixed uncomfortably apart and his feet were no longer touching the ground. Then Grant’s wrists – one at a time – were removed from his collar and attached to mounting points near the top horizontal bar on the rear uprights. Former Deputy Alan Grant, once a proud Dickinson State University Bluehawk 4X champion wrestler, was now immobilized, upright and spread eagle. “Fuck me! What next?” Thought Grant. Waters told Styvers to back up the ATV to not only remove any slack in the line attached to the top of Grant’s head harness, but to give the man a good stretch. That’s what was next!
After the initial hoisting up by his head harness, once Grant’s arms and legs were pulled tautly in an X shape, he could at least move his head. Then he heard what Waters said to Styvers about the slack and he could feel the pressure on the head harness again. “Fuck, this is almost as bad as when they were lifting me by the head,” thought Grant! Styvers got off the ATV and, always giving in to temptation, ran his hand up Grant’s left inner thigh ending with a firm squeeze of Grant’s hefty package. Waters reminded Styvers that there wasn’t time for their normal fun – they were running against a deadline. Grant was powerless to stop the probing hands. Luke Owens was humiliated for his former fellow Deputy and shook his harnessed head in disgust. One of the men standing over him noticed this and patted Luke’s head saying “Don’t worry little buddy, you’ll get to have some fun soon enough.”
The team removed Grant’s body armor. Grant and Owens were both amazed at how quickly the powered shears cut through the heavy duty canvas ballistic fabric of the external armor carrier. The body armor thudded to the ground in two halves. The duty belt was next. Before it was completely cut through, one of the men surrounding Jason and Luke grabbed Grant’s prized 1911 from his holster. “No need to let that beauty get damaged,” the man explained to no one in particular. Styvers slowly unsnapped the belt keepers while running his other hand between Grant’s ass cheeks. Down plopped the duty belt. Grant’s inner belt was certainly not going to be a challenge for those shears! Grant’s uniform was gone within a minute.
Grant hung in his bonds in nothing but an under armour shirt and a jockstrap. Owens had to give Grant some credit for going old school and sporting a jock. Plus, Grant filled it out nicely. The underclothing was shredded off in seconds. Naked Grant had nothing to be ashamed about. The prep team knowingly glanced at each other and Holstrom’s “MM, tasty” could be heard by all.
Grant was humiliated and struggled against the frame and the cable holding his head in place. He couldn’t budge! Owens and Jason were terrified of what they saw. Owens even tried to make a run for it. He made it about 10 feet before the chain attached to his collar snapped him to the ground. The men watching over him and Jason were howling at the sight! One of them went towards Owens and another told him “Don’t worry about it, the guy’s fucked and he knows it. He’s not going anywhere.” The other man said “Oh, I know he’s not going anywhere, I just want to get his gun before he goes on the rack. I don’t want to be anywhere near one of those things.”
The way the men were talking about him! Owens thought, “They sound as if trussing me up is a foregone conclusion, speaking about me as if I’m not even here!” He found another surge of energy and renewed his struggles as he saw what was in store for him. Owens wasn’t going down without a fight! He wasn’t going to end up like Grant! And what an experience his former partner was enduring. “WTF, did his buddy Grant’s dick just swell up a bit?,” thought Owens.
If Grant had ever wondered what a six hand massage felt like, he didn’t have to wonder anymore! The prep team had their hands all over him. ALL over him. Struggling was useless, but Grant wasn’t about to quit trying. What were they rubbing on him? As if reading Grant’s mind, Waters said “Try and relax buddy. Tensing up like you’re doing only saps your energy. But then again, sapping your energy may help you rest during transport. I hear it’s not the most comfortable way to travel.”
Waters continued, “We’re rubbing a moisturizing disinfectant into your skin. Wouldn’t want any nasty germs to start growing on you! This is supposed to be really good stuff. I don’t know though. We wash it off as soon as we’re done prepping, otherwise an itching starts like you’ve never felt before. I’m so glad it’s you and not me!” This was as Styvers was massaging the goo into Grant’s ass crack and Holstrom wasn’t about to miss any of Grant’s cock, taint, and impressive nutsack. If Grant had enough slack in his bonds to tremble, he would be!
His mind focused on fear, Grant’s cock wasn’t responding to the massaging of his private parts by other men. Well, mostly. When the massaging of his cock and asshole were happening at the same time. His body began to betray him. It was only the first of many betrayals. He’d never had anything but toilet paper on his hole. This was different. Way different. Fuck! Was he chubbing up!?! Thankfully the massaging stopped and Grant’s cock stopped getting any more than semi-firm, and quickly deflated. Fuck! Other men, friend and foe alike, were watching him. “Did they notice?” he wondered. He couldn’t fathom the thought of a woodie in front of other guys. Especially not in front of the team rubbing on him!! If only he knew… …There was a surprise coming for Grant, Owens, and Jason.
Waters directed his teammates to install a hip holder on the rack. They placed a wide, horizontal bar onto the frame’s rear uprights. They adjusted its height so the bar rested on Grant’s pubic bone. The men then unlocked the adjustable mounts that Grant’s ankles were bound to. They started moving the mounting plates towards the top of the rack’s front uprights. To Owens, it looked like they were moving safety stops, like on a squat rack. Only his buddy’s ankles were bound to them on this rack. Up the mounts went. Grant’s knees began to bend. Were it not for the hip holder, Grant’s back would have started to curve and his hips would have pivoted forward. Leaving Grant’s virgin hole for all to see.
Instead, the hip holder did just that. It held Grant’s hips in position as his ankles were moved to higher slots on the uprights. The effect was that Grant’s legs were spread far apart and out of the way as if he were on a gyno table. Except Grant’s “table” was vertical, not horizontal, keeping his hole pointed directly at the ground. Grant felt like he was about to get fucked. Technically, he wasn’t going to get fucked, at least not tonight, in the traditionally accepted manner.
Waters and Holstom had walked to the ATV trailers. Holstrom was pulling a hose off of a reel and Waters had a cone shaped thing on a tray. Waters addressed everyone: “This is a butt plug. It’s going to get shoved into this man’s ass and it will do just that, plug him.” as he winked at Grant. “It’s probably too big. Way too big. That’s because we’re all out of smaller sizes. What can I say, we had a lot of new acquisitions on this trip. Just kidding! Every customer gets supersized for free! Now, we don’t want to damage you, we only get paid to prep you for shipping. Others get paid to damage and modify you,” Waters smirked. “But we’re not about to jeopardize a shipment or mess up our transport rig with your plugs leaking.”
“No. There’s no fucking way that thing’s going inside of me!” thought Grant. “It’s physically impossible!” Just then, Styvers rolled out a piece of machinery about the size of a shop vac. It had a pole coming out of the top. He put it directly under Grant, the tip of the pole just inches from Grant’s quivering asshole. Styvers pressed a button on top of the machine and the pole lowered a few inches. Grant couldn’t see what was happening under him. He figured it wasn’t good when he saw Luke’s eyes about to pop out of his head. Grant saw a bucket get placed near where Waters was standing. The markings on it were unmistakable: J Lube!!
Waters mounted the obscenely long and wide-based butt plug at the end of the pole under Grant. Holstrom put generous amounts of J Lube on the plug. Then he scooped up another handful and went for Grant’s hole. He was diligently getting the lube all over Grant’s well exposed hole when Waters tapped him on the shoulder and said “Forgetting something? Again!” as he handed Holstrom a cock shaped device with a trigger at its base. “You can’t keep forgetting to lube the inside, too.” “Oh, yeah, sorry,” mumbled Holstrom. Holstrom grabbed the lube gun and without hesitating, shoved it up Grant’s ass as he’d done hundreds of times before on other men. It was a very tight fit, indeed.
Holstrom may have been familiar with this action, but Grant certainly wasn’t! There had never been anything up his ass before. Jason and Owens could see Grant’s eyes get to be the size of golf balls. The suddenness, the pain, the anger, and the defeat all washed over Grant at once. And just like the forced assault on his mouth, there was nothing he could do to stop the invasion of his other hole. No way to pull or twist free. He didn’t even get the satisfaction of screaming out loud. But scream he did. Jason and Owens heard Grant’s cock muzzled screams of agony loud and clear.
Holstrom gave the trigger a few pulls until J Lube was leaking around the sides of the cock Grant’s asshole was involuntarily gripping. Grant was covered in sweat from his struggles and he began inhaling and exhaling faster than his nose could keep up. You could even hear it! The lube tool was removed and Grant made another muted groan. Styvers pressed another button and the plug began methodically moving up to Grant’s formerly virgin hole. The tip of the plug hit its target and Styvers halted the movement after about 2 inches of the plug had buried itself inside of Grant. Styvers said, “Let’s stop here for a minute and give his hole a little time to stretch. This one hasn’t been in any of our holding facilities so this is a first for the doomed fucker. We don’t want anything to tear or bleed, otherwise we’ll be getting packaged!”
“Stretch!” thought Grant. How in the hell was there anything left to stretch. The pressure and the burning were already getting to him. The sweating and nasal panting was getting even worse. Then Styvers nudged the plug another half inch. Grant began to scream uncontrollably. “Good thing at least one hole’s fully plugged,” joked Waters, “He’s screaming like a girl. I couldn’t take that squealing without the muzzle to stifle it!” Jason and Owens tried blocking their ears from the tortured sounds, but it did little good.
“Listen buddy,” Holstrom said to Grant, “I’m going to hold a rag to your nose. It’s soaked in something that may help you get through this. Make sure you snort up as much as you can.” Holstrom placed the poppers soaked rag over Grant’s nose. “It’s not like you have a choice, anyway. You’re head ain’t going to move.” That was for certain, Grant didn’t have a choice but to inhale. The smell reminded him of gun cleaning solvent. “Shit! This is bad,” Grant thought to himself. He always cleaned his guns in a well ventilated area precisely because he didn’t want to get overcome by fumes. “And here we are!” thought Grant.
He must have taken in six or seven deep snorts before Holstrom moved the rag away. Within moments, Grant began to feel a warm wave rush over him. It was a bit euphoric, even in his restrained position. The feeling of his asshole tearing began to lessen. Make no mistake, Grant couldn’t ignore the pressure at his hole, but it became tolerable. “Tolerable!” thought Grant, “What the fuck were these men doing to me!?! They’re messing with my mind!”
But Grant chose the comforting wave of warmth over the agony and gave in to the poppers. Holstrom nodded to Styvers and he started moving the plug further into Grant’s tortured ass. The plug was now at its widest part. Styvers stopped the pole’s movement. Grant was drifting back into his painful reality. Styvers disconnected the plug from the pole and exclaimed “Watch this boys!” Everyone stared, even Jason and Owens. The plug was literally quivering at Grant’s ass opening. Grant’s eyes rolled back in their sockets, his muffled screams of misery had returned. Styvers flicked the base of the plug and it drove itself home!
“Whew, that’s always a tricky one. You never know if the thing’s gonna’ get sucked up like a vacuum was on it or get shot out like a bullet!” In Grant’s case, his sphincter had completely betrayed him and popped the plug up his chute like it was spring loaded. That thing wasn’t going anywhere! Grant’s ass kept a grip on the skinny base of the plug like a vise. Grant knew he was done. He tried pushing the plug out like he was taking the shit of his life, as verified by his muffled groans. It wouldn’t move! Grant began to sob.
Waters moved in with the hose. It had a quick-connect fitting and snapped right into Grant’s new plug. A switch in one of the trailer mounted containers was pressed and a compressor came to life. He looked at Grant and said “Time for a cleaning and leakage test.” Grant’s plug had a hole through its center. It’s one-way valve was fixed in an open position when the quick release was attached. This allowed for the compressor to pump a cleaning solution and warm water up Grant’s colon. The pain in Alan Grant’s abdomen was intense. When Grant’s belly was filled, Waters gave him a bear hug from behind with his hands clasped right at Grant’s belly button. He told Grant to try hard to expel the plug. No leaks! The solution was left in for a minute before the compressor reversed and sucked out the contents. This went on for two more cycles. Waters held his arms up like goal posts and said “Good leak test! We may not be here all night.” Waters told Styvers and Holstrom to get the packing material ready.
Waters looked Grant in the eyes, down to Grant’s cock, and back into his eyes. He tapped Grant’s plumping cock and said “You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Grant was in no way enjoying what was happening. His eyes revealed rage, but his cock had other ideas. He was growing and showing – in front of everybody. Waters eyed Jason and Owens and said “Looks like your straight buddy here likes being plugged in both holes, or rubbed on by men, or both.”
© 2021 CFlex
Metal would like to thank the author for this story!