Disclaimer: The characters in this story are above the age of consent, but that kinda goes out the window since they engage in non-consensual behavior. The fact that it turns out all right for our fictional protagonists’ relationship doesn’t make it OK IRL. Always keep it safe, sane, and consensual. Even if that means you have to learn how to communicate better.
Some details I left vague intentionally, so you fill them in however will make you more horny.
This story is dedicated to Strappeddown, who inspired me to go back to work on it. And to Padlock86, who forced me to finish it.
It was a good thing the box was still in the equipment room and not at my place last night, or I would have broken down and jumped to Phase 3 ahead of schedule. Now I had classes to keep me away from temptation until practice. Toben was looking pretty haggard, but surprisingly, instead of looking desperate he looked focused and determined. What plan was he hatching?
I had backed off on the brem seeping into his body before I went to bed. I didn’t actually want him to get expelled for trying to rape someone. In fact, I didn’t even want him to lose the game this weekend. So I was trying not to send him over the edge. Yet. So I didn’t add any more to his system until practice was over.
I had to grin with satisfaction when I heard some of the other players talking about him. Word had gone around about his “lucky jock”. I bet Toben was surprised as I was when a few of the other players kept theirs on too. One of them had stuck a team decal on his. So then Toben was free to take showers after practice again. The three guys took a lot of shit from some of the other players, but they were all popular enough that they when they did crazy things they were more likely to be imitated than shunned. Who knew how many would be wearing them tomorrow?
While waiting for Toben to get cleaned up and dressed, I was mentally reviewing my plans for the day and making sure I had live feeds from the cameras I needed, because today’s action would be in the parking lot. I had to lock the door and close the pass-thru window between the locker room and the equipment room so the coach and the jocks wouldn’t see me playing with my toy.
Finally, he headed out of the sports center to his car. He had parked out near the edge of the lot, which was good, because there was no one around there at that time of day. Just after he closed the door, and before he could start the car, I gave him his second big surprise: my hand on his cock. Just the lightest of touches at first.
His reaction on the video feeds made me wish I had a microphone on him too. There’s not a lot of room to jump while in the driver’s seat of a car. I hoped he didn’t injure anything. Then he just froze like a deer in the headlights. It’s not like there was anywhere to look or anything he could do.
Huh, your nuts really do pull up when you are scared! I had no idea it was such a drastic reaction. His boner gave up the ghost in short order too. I started stroking him nevertheless. I had no idea if it would work or not.
I had a good idea what was going through his mind. Before, he knew that control of his cock had been taken from him, but he had been picturing it tucked inside the cup between his legs. Now he was realizing that he was completely vulnerable. Somebody, and he didn’t even know who, could do anything to his cock or his nuts at any time, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. I’m sure my nuts would shrivel up if I were in the same situation.
But right then, my cock was straining in my shorts. This was so damn hot. I was getting out the lube to do the job right when he sent me a text.
I nearly pissed myself. I had never been so scared in my whole fucking life.
Looking back on it, I wished I had pissed, all over the fucker in there. If he was handling my junk, I must have been separated from whatever plumbing arrangement he had.
I was still thinking of it as “in there,” but I figured out quick enough what was happening. A warp tube instead of a dimple. How could I have not seen it sooner? How else was my piss magically draining away?
Where was my cock? Who was on the other side? Shit, he could do anything he wanted to it, and there was fucking nothing I could do about it. I cupped my hands protectively over my crotch, for all the good that did me. The unseen hand stroked my cock again, beneath my hands, which was freaking bizarre.
Of course there were a lot worse things he could be doing to my cock than he was doing right then. Normally I would have been getting off on this sort of treatment, but I was so freaked out my junk was just about pulled into my body. This shit had just got a lot less fun, and I was ready to fucking kill the bastard who was doing it to me. “Fuck fuck FUCK!” I shouted, in the fake safety of my car.
In fact I felt trapped in the car just then. I for sure was not going to try driving, and I didn’t think I could walk around in public when I didn’t know if I’d be able to keep it together anymore. I had no idea what to do next. I didn’t think it would help, but I couldn’t think of any other options, so I got out my phone and texted back to Junkbox. T: I AM GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU.
I knew it was a stupid thing to do even as I hit send.
He texted me back immediately: J: DO YOU WANT THIS TO FEEL GOOD OR FEEL BAD? Then the hand gave a gentle tug on my nuts.
I changed my tune. T: PLEASE JUST LET ME GO. But there was no answer. Instead, I felt things moving around in contact with my junk. I couldn’t really tell what was going on, but when it was done, my cock and balls were completely encased in something. Whatever it was, it was form-fitting, and there was gentle pressure all over.
T: WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
After that, there was no more movement, and no more hand on my cock. After about 10 minutes, I worked up the courage to start my car and drive home. Nothing happened until I got to my room. Whatever was covering my groin started pulsing as soon as I closed my door. The pulses moved upward from the base of my shaft to the tip. Some kind of smart-matter sex toy? It was reminding me of how helpless I was, but my cock started responding. I threw down my shoulder bag and flopped down on the bed. How long could this go on?
I noticed a while later that I was getting super-horny again, like I did the day before. My cock was rock-hard, and I couldn’t think about anything but getting off. I was squirming around on the bed and moaning. Man, I wanted to get off so bad. As usual, nothing worked. I tried humping a pillow. I tried an electric massager pressed up against the cup. The buzzing vibrations were transmitted to my hip bones, but it didn’t help. Pressing the massager up against my taint worked a lot better, but it only made me hornier.
I tried holding still because everything I was doing just seemed to make things worse. Just like in the stories, I tried to think about homework or my high school history teacher, but my mind would immediately drift to images of Devlin half out of his gear stroking my hot hard… FUCK!
I came up with an idea to try to cool things down with ice. Maybe I could ice the general area and chill out my cock and balls that way. I got up to go to the kitchen for the ice and got another surprise when I opened the door and stepped into the hall. As soon as I was out of my room, the stroking stopped! I stood there in the hall for a second, then tried going back into my room.
I rushed through the room, grabbing up my shoulder bag, phone, and even a change of clothes, then got the hell out of there. I was still fucking horny as hell, but I was able to drag myself through my homework at the dining table, and I slept on the couch in the living room. My housemates gave me some shit in the morning, but I just told them I’d fallen asleep there.
After enjoying his text messages, I decided to get on with the next step. It took some fiddling with the brackets to maneuver his new best friend into the box. The Venus 6500 was a largish cylinder with the lower end open. When it wasn’t activated, if you looked in through the open end you would see a smooth pinkish lining which was pretty slick to touch. The brackets allowed me to position it just right to engulf his junk. I had to point his down-turned cock up as I lowered the cylinder. Then I turned it on. The smartmatter lining puffed inward from the cylinder wall and contoured itself against his skin. For now it would do nothing more — just act like a sleeve on his cock and balls. I had it programmed to perform its tricks based on GPS location. A tube from the end hooked him up to the regular drainage system, which I had moved off to the side.
I was a little disappointed with myself for reacting to his empty threat with cruelty. Yes, what I was doing to him was cruel, but I did not want him to focus on the possibility of getting hurt at any time. I wanted him desperate to get off. I wondered if everyone who has this much control over someone starts to exhibit such cruelty, to emphasize how powerful they were? Or just some of us? I resolved to keep my sadistic streak in check, if for no other reason than the knowledge that payback for this prank was inevitable.
Before I could go home and get to my homework, I had to do a little setup for the next day. There was a blind spot in the school’s surveillance in the Basketball pavilion, in a notch of building behind the bleachers and next to the snack bar. It was known to some as a place for privacy (for whatever reason). I marked its GPS location as the “goal” on a map on my computer.
Toben’s cup has a GPS transponder in it, so I could always know where he was (though I knew he could eventually figure it out and take steps to block the signal). But I also had a system set up (thanks to Kev) where his location could trigger different behaviors from the cylinder which gripped his junk (Kev had wanted to know what I wanted triggered, but I brushed him off). Using the map of the school on my notebook, I was laying out an all-day obstacle course. I wanted to see how much I could modify his behavior without resorting to pain or direct instructions. The points that I was flagging on the map were assigned not only cylinder behaviors and intensities, but time-based rules. Tomorrow Toben would be my rat and school would be his maze.
As I drove to school I was thinking about my fucked-up situation. My junk was still locked up and exposed to an unknown person in an unknown location. There was still some sort of sleeve encasing my cock and balls, but it wasn’t doing anything at the moment. I knew from last night that it was some sort of smartmatter that could work my shaft like an expert cocksucker.
But at this point I was sort of used to my situation. I mean, not really, but it was somehow familiar enough that I could function most of the time, if I was doing routine stuff and not being tormented by the jacking sleeve, or whatever you call it. Oh, and it helped not to be in the locker room around the guys and the gear.
As I did every few minutes, I wondered how long this would go on, and how long I could take it. Then I thought about revenge and started reviewing details of my project.
When I pulled in to a parking spot at school, my thoughts were drifting from how to build my revenge project to how hot it would be to be subject to its torments. That was bad, because I was getting a boner again.
Getting to my first class helped me keep my brain occupied. I even answered a question from the teacher. I got it wrong.
At the end of class I got a text from JUNKBOX: DEAR LAB RAT, TODAY YOU JUST MIGHT GET THE CHEESE YOU’VE BEEN HUNGERING FOR THIS WEEK, IF YOU CAN LEARN TO STAY ON THE PATH
What the fuck was that supposed to mean? I really didn’t want any more shit dumped on me right then. I was having enough trouble keeping up with my classes, and I should have been psyching myself up for the game that weekend, and I was already sick enough of having a stranger in complete control of my junk. So I didn’t want him rubbing my nose in it. Did that even make sense? Anyway, I didn’t want to play his fucked up games.
I was pretty sure I knew what he meant by cheese, though; and I definitely needed some release. Just thinking about the possibility of getting off had me rock-hard in an instant. In fact, I was having another one of those phases when the horniness seemed to go up to 11. “Fuck fuck fuck,” I said under my breath as I stood up from my desk. I had a fair amount of practice at keeping my expression blank, but I did feel like I was breaking out in a sweat again.
As soon as I was standing, the fucking sleeve on my cock started stroking. So much for my blank expression. I had given a grunt of surprise, then suppressed a groan as I checked to see if anyone was staring at me. It seemed like I hadn’t given myself away. At least no one could see the wood I was sporting.
The stroking was very slow and light. Definitely not enough to do the job. Unless the job was to drive me crazy. It kept up the whole time I walked towards my next class, but stopped when I went down a side hall to use a drinking fountain. I felt relieved, but then there was a slight pressure on my nuts. As I got my drink, the pressure increased steadily. It was starting to ache. This was pissing me off. Not having anything better to do about it, I went back to the main hallway to get to class. As soon as I turned the corner, the pressure stopped and the stroking started up again.
So that was what the rest of my day was like. If I went some places, I got a steady stroking, just enough to keep me horny the whole time. If I went other places, like off campus for lunch, my nuts got squeezed, just enough to ache.
During my free hour I explored, using my cock like a fucking metal detector. One weird thing I found out was that sometimes places I had been to before and gotten a stroking would give me a squeeze if I went back to them. What the fuck was that about?
Eventually I ended up at the Sports Center, and the stroking definitely increased. I wasn’t so sure I wanted the teasing to intensify, since I couldn’t do anything about it, but the message had implied that I could possibly get off. So I went inside. The stroking got stronger and faster. My cock got fully hard. The stroking got better and better as I approached the Basketball gym. I was sweating and muttering, “fuck fuck fuck…” again as I went inside and walked to the center of the court.
The stroking stopped. Goddammit!/what a relief! I looked around. The gym was empty. I didn’t see any clues that told me what I was supposed to do next. With a shrug, I head back towards the door.
The goddamned thing covering my junk clamped down on my nuts so hard that it almost felt like getting a knee to the groin. I shouted and doubled over. The squeeze didn’t let up. I stumbled back to where I had been standing, and the pain let up instantly.
Was I stuck there in the middle of the gym? What good did that do? Or maybe I just wasn’t supposed to head in that direction. I was afraid to move from my spot, but I figured I had to do something. I tried walking in the opposite direction, away from the entrance. I was relieved to feel the stroking start up again, though it was only the lightest of touches, compared to what I had been feeling all day. So I tried turning a bit to the left. The stroking got stronger. I turned a bit more, and it eased off.
Fine. I was supposed to head towards the snack bar. That’s when I figured out where I was supposed to go. The Nook. That’s what people who knew about it called it. Hopefully no one who knew about it was there now, because as I got closer, I was definitely getting closer.
I went around the bleachers and passed the empty snack bar. No one there. The stroking was more intense than it had ever been. I was so fucking horny again.
The space was only a few yards deep and a couple of yards across. There were the usual cigarette butts, opened condom packs, and soda cans lying around. The light was dimmer here because there was no light fixture.
Even now, the intensity of stimulation on my rock-hard cock was changing whenever I moved. Within minutes I had the space mapped out, and knew the sweet spot was in the corner that was most hidden from outside view. I leaned up against the wall there and moaned quietly. I knew I shouldn’t make a noise, because you never knew when someone might show up, but I was losing control. I felt like I was on my way to shooting my load. I was sliding my hands up and down my crotch, rubbing the hard shell of my cup, not that it did any good. My hips started thrusting as I humped the air.
That’s when I noticed that even that movement made the intensity go up and down. The further back I pulled my hips, the harder the stroking. Maybe I was still not as close as I could get to the target. I tried turning around and facing into the corner.
Fuck! The shape of the smartmatter skin that had been stroking me changed instantly. Suddenly it felt like dozens of rubbery tendrils brushing every inch of my dick. It felt amazing. I was moaning and thrusting my hips like crazy.
Eventually I tried pushing the cup all the way into the corner, and the insane caresses doubled in speed. I had never been hornier in my life. I knew I was going to come at any moment, so I was surprised to realize that part of me didn’t want it to end so soon. So soon? I’d been tormented and kept from cumming for days! What was I thinking?
And then my fucked up wish was granted. The stroking stopped. I opened my eyes and looked around. What the fuck? I tried moving around the Nook, but the show was over.
“Got DAMN it!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. I didn’t care who heard me at that point. I was losing my mind.
Then my phone vibrated. There was a text message from JUNKBOX.
GOOD JOB LITTLE LAB RAT! I HOPE YOU REMEMBERED THE ROUTE, BECAUSE AFTER PRACTICE YOU’LL BE RUNNING THE MAZE AGAINST THE CLOCK.
I was starting to feel bad for Toben, but I was also rock-hard watching him humping the corner. Or maybe I was feeling afraid of what he’d do to get back at me. He was definitely looking pretty desperate, even before I guided him to the Nook. Surprising I hadn’t heard anyone comment on how crazed he was looking. Anyway, I knew I had to wrap this up soon. Not that he got to know that.
In the locker room before practice I discovered something else: he smelled great! He came into the equipment room partly suited up, carrying his shoulder pads, looking for some athletic tape. I nearly moaned aloud when he came near because he was giving off a cloud of pure horniness, mixed with the usual testosterone-laden funk of his well-worn gear. But he was also scowling dangerously, so I knew I had better not give him the slightest clue that I knew what was going on. Not yet. I was catching on to why most people don’t draw these things out like this. It’s way too much stress!
Coach gave me a lot of crap during practice. I was definitely off my game because I was thinking about after. Was the fucker who did this to me really going to let me get off? Could I keep my shit together in the locker room before then?
It was just like yesterday. For the third time, I started to get really horny. Everything around me seemed like the hottest thing ever — my sweaty pads, the guys slamming into me, the way they fucking smelled.
I don’t remember anything Coach said after practice but I think I didn’t do anything that would get mentioned on Twitter. People tried to talk to me in the showers, but I didn’t say anything. I was afraid I’d tell them I wanted to do something that at least half of them wouldn’t like at all. Eventually they decided I was not worth talking to and left me alone. It didn’t help any that eight of the guys were wearing their “lucky” cups in the shower just like me. I tried counting mold spots on the ceiling while rinsing off as fast as I could.
I threw on my clothes and got the hell out of there. Hector and Sergei took one look and got out of my way.
But as soon as I stepped into the hall, the real torture began. I turned down the hall towards the basketball gym. I hoped I could just go straight to the nook, but the fucking cup started squeezing my balls. I knew what I had to do, at least how to start, because I’d been thinking about it all through practice when I should have been focusing on my game.
I headed across campus to Severn Hall, where my first class was. As I walked the pressure eased up. I was trying hard to remember everywhere I went during the day, and which ways didn’t hurt.
The message had said I’d be running against the clock, but not how much time I had. There was no way I’d let this fucker put me through this and then not let me get off. I was going out of my mind with pure need. Did that help or make it harder to remember which way to go?
I got to the door of the classroom. Immediately the pressure stopped and the stroking started. It was a little more intense than it had been this morning. Now we’re talking! Even though I had just showered, I felt sweaty again.
In the end, it took me about an hour of wandering around. I only made a couple of false moves, and I learned that the stroking was not the only thing that was more intense now. My nuts were killing me. I had no idea if I was making good time or just getting laughed at. And if I did get there in time, I’d be putting on quite a pathetic show for whoever the fucker was, but at this point I didn’t care. The closer I got to the basketball court, the more intense the stroking got. I was breathing heavy and muttering shit nonstop.
Inside the gym I made a beeline toward the Nook and got my nuts pinched again. Now what?? Oh yeah. I headed to the center of the basketball court. I didn’t know if I was supposed to wait there, so I didn’t bother. This time heading to the Nook worked. Just like before, the stroking and vibrations ramped up as I got closer. I broke into a run.
When I turned into the Nook, I immediately headed to the corner and jammed the cup into the right angle. I guessed that meant I had beat the clock! Fucker had better give me my fucking cheese!
The jacking sleeve was going wild, much stronger than before. It felt fucking awesome. I was panting and thrusting, making a total fool of myself, but I didn’t care about anything besides getting off. I was so close, I knew it was going to happen this time. Every muscle in my body tensed up, and…
It stopped again. “FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKER!” I shouted. I turned around and stomped in a circle in the confined space of the Nook. I tried sticking it into the corner again: nothing.
I did NOT punch the wall. That hadn’t gone so well when I did it a couple of years ago. But I really really wanted to hit something. After a minute of panting with rage and desperation, I left the Nook.
I froze at the basketball court when I realized someone was sitting on one of the bleachers with a lit-up tablet in his lap. It was Aaron.
My first thought was, “Oh shit, did he hear all that?” but an instant later it sank in. It was Aaron doing this to me. He looked up from his screen and grinned at me. Now I knew what I would be hitting. I didn’t care who had done what to who before. If he had any sense, he would be running.
I took my first step towards him, and the stroking started up again! With every step, it got twice as powerful. By the time I got halfway to him, it was working my cock as hard as it had in the Nook. My need to smash Aaron’s face was hard to sustain in the face of my OTHER need. I took another step, and the pattern of stroking slowed and deepened and somehow felt even more amazing. I groaned aloud. Another step. I was so fucking close. I would get off and THEN smash his face.
I realized I was on my hands and knees, a few feet from Aaron. He was just sitting there, watching me. I flopped over and grabbed the cup, rubbing it desperately. Closer, closer.
Finally, it happened. I felt it surge up from behind my groin and through my cock. I had never felt it like this before. I think I screamed. I kept pumping for a long time; longer than ever.
Then it was over. It was the most intense thing I had ever felt. I sobbed a couple of times, even though that fucker was watching me.
Oh my God. That was the most intense thing I had ever seen.
Watching his reaction, I felt empathy for him. He must have felt very exposed, going through that in front of someone else. But mostly I felt envy. I had never had an orgasm like that.
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank the author, GratDelay, for this story! If you enjoyed it so far please leave a comment in the comments section below. You can also find GratDelay on Recon.