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Story

VRansomwear – Chapter 4

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VRansomwear

By POW

CHAPTER 4

Meanwhile… the next morning, in Queens… and Brooklyn… and across the river in Secaucus, New Jersey …

Ken’s phone chimed with a sound he was not accustomed to hearing. He pulled it out and looked at it.

It was a notification from an app he remembered installing a few weeks back. It was called “VRealWorld” – pronounced with two syllables, the first two letters slurred together like the VRs in “vroom vroom” – and it was supposed to be an online hookup tool like grindr or recon. Like grindr, it supposedly got you in touch with guys near you who shared your interests. But it had never shown Ken anything and after a few days he had forgotten it was even there, had even forgotten that the account had been created under the name “Rockit”. Seeing it now on the screen now his reaction was that it was almost too cutesy a nickname, a callout to the band he played lead guitar for as well as a thinly-disguised reference to dicks and orgasms.

Now the app was chiming for “Rockit’s” attention. The notification said “Rubberlad near you!” A… “rubberlad”? Skeptical, Ken swiped the message.

“A rubberlad has completed the VRealWorld training program and is currently active near you. If you wish to let the rubberlad find you, see you, and interact with you, read on!” There was a link to more instructions.

Continue reading VRansomwear – Chapter 4 →

Daily Thread

Getting a cake in the face at KinkMen

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Restaurant patrons abuse a bad waiter and make him serve naked in public.

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It’s lunchtime at a busy local restaurant. Customers have had it with Nico, a ditsy waiter. Tyler Saint takes the waiter down and everyone jumps on in the action. They strip the waiter naked and shove dicks into his mouth. Nico endures more humiliation when they make him serve their lunches naked. Tyler pushes the waiter’s face into the dessert and everyone cums on his messy face.

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Story

VRansomwear – Chapter 2

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VRansomwear

By POW

CHAPTER 2

Colin stayed in the changing room for about forty-five more minutes before working up the nerve to leave. He regretted now that the day had been warm; his clothing consisted of baggy jeans, a T-shirt, socks, and sneakers. No matter how he arranged things, there would still be a lot of exposed rubber. Of course, his face was covered by the rubber, too, so that gave him a certain anonymity. Still, everywhere he went he would be a freak.

That realization was what finally drove him out: he was only a few blocks away from Times Square. If there was any place where a freak could blend in, it was there. Especially ten days before Halloween.

He put on everything he could and packed the few other items into the gym bag. Easing the door open, he slipped into the empty hallway and started down the stairs. Here in the early afternoon the locker areas only held a few people; rush hour was when all the commuters from New Jersey and Pennsylvania would swarm through on their way in or out of the city. Now there were only a handful: a white woman in her fifties, a dark young guy, Latino or possibly Arabic, a Wall Street wanna-be in an expensive suit, and a father with his daughter of about six. Colin emerged from the stairwell and strode through the hall with more confidence than he felt.

The six-year-old stared, of course, but that would have happened without the rubber. The rest ignored him in that practiced way New Yorkers have. He kept his own eyes forward… not that any of them could see his eyes… from their point of view his face was a blank mask.

Continue reading VRansomwear – Chapter 2 →

Story

Planning for a Halloween Party

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By Mister-X/Spartan

That house was a natural for hosting a Halloween party. It was really creepy looking. It had been built many years ago, an old Victorian relic. It sat on top of a hill on the outskirts of town. It looked like a copy of the house in that Hitchcock movie “Psycho.” The only problem was that the owner, the guy who lived there, was just as mysterious as the house itself.

Bobby and I had been discussing approaching the owner with Willie. We wondered if the owner would be interested in having us rent it for Halloween. We could fix it up great, making it something that our friends would talk about for years. But we were trying to find some way to approach the owner. We figured you couldn’t just walk up to a total stranger and ask him if you can rent your home for a day. Bobby and I had been working on this for a couple of weeks, checking records to see who owned the place, verifying that the owner lived there, and checking any records we could about him. But we came up with nothing, nada. There had to be something.

He wasn’t a member of any club that we knew about. He never seemed to leave his house except to go grocery shopping. And that was another strange thing, he only left his house at night. Plus he always came out dressed in black clothes. Nowadays, that is popular dress, but for someone his age, it isn’t. He didn’t seem like someone who was modern in any way. He also had an eastern European accent. That sent us off on a different research quest.

Willie finally said, “Hey, I don’t have a problem approaching strangers. Leave it to me to talk to the guy and check out the place.”

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Story

Busman’s Holiday – Part 12

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By lthr_jock

Without thinking, Clark stood up which made Greg curse angrily and use his crop on Clark’s leathered arse. Clark reflexively knelt down again and flushed bright red as Vickers laughed. Greg glared down at him and paused before looking back up at Vickers.

“Hold on, did you just call him Samuel?”

Vickers grinned an evil little smile and nodded. Greg let out a roar of laughter which made several people close by look up from their own conversations.

“You mean to tell me that the man I have been pestering you about for 2 months is right here kneeling at my feet.”

Vickers joined in the laugher. “Yes – and from the look of it Samuel has had quite the evening.”

Greg chuckled and stroked Clarks hair, ignoring the increasingly urgent grunts that were coming from the restrained man.

“Damn. I’ve wanted to get him into some of my gear for ages. See – I was right – it suits him.”

“I never doubted it would.”

“MPPPHHH!”

Greg didn’t look down, just rapped the tip of his crop against the faceplate of Clark’s muzzle. “Quiet, boi, your betters are talking.”

Clark ignored this and continued to grunt into the gag. Greg frowned at him and with one hand behind Clarks head, used the other one to pinch his nose shut. Clark then realised how secure he was trussed up as he struggled vainly within the straitjacket, his booted feet slipping on the floor. He could get some air in past the gag in his mouth, but his struggles increased his need for air and Gregs control over his nose meant that he couldn’t get it. He struggled harder and harder until Greg released his grip. He gasped air in through his nose, coughing and spluttering around the drool in his mouth. Greg knelt down so that he could hear him whisper.

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Story

The Convict – Part 17

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By Joshua Ryan

“This is Officer Nolan,” he said to his cellphone. “Open A292.” I heard the bars slide back.

“Inside, convict.”

I opened my eyes. There was a gap in the bars. The cell door was open. It wasn’t very wide. It was just the gate to a cage. I could tell that I’d have to tilt my bedroll to get it through. I lifted one side, maneuvering it. I would have to be careful not to let anything drop . . .

Then I saw it.   There was something long and thick lying on the lower bunk, something brown that was shaped like a man. There were letters and numbers stamped on its surface.   It was a convict, lying face down in my cell. Wait a minute! Couldn’t the officer see that the place was already full?

I almost blurted that out. Then I remembered: there were two convicts stuffed in all those other cells. That bundle of clothes on the bunk was only one convict. I was the other one.

I stopped in the doorway. I was scared to wake up that thing on the metal shelf. Jesus, it was dark in there, especially after the spotlight I’d faced outside. I could see a naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, but it wasn’t turned on. The only light was the gray stuff leaking in from the walkway. That was enough for me to see that the whole cell wasn’t much larger than a medium-sized closet. It was a lot smaller than my bathroom at home. What used to be my home. Half the cell was bunks, one shelf above the other on the right side, against the wall. A lot of the rest was toilet — a metal toilet squatting against the back wall, a toilet without a seat, with something that looked like a little sink built into the top of it. The thing was gleaming at me in the faint light. Christ! I thought. They wash in the shitter. A wave of contempt ran through me. Probably one of them crapped while the other one washed his face in the crapper. They were like cats in a cage, with a little litterbox all their own. And now I was one of them.

Continue reading The Convict – Part 17 →