Yes, yes I can.

Wednesday, 31 December, Year 6 d.Tr. | Author: Mircea Popescu

I've been challenged, by a total punishment sluti, who may remain anonymous but will be suitably punishedii, as to whether I can actually write a proper version of that thing. Turns out that yes, yes I can. Here goes :

There was a tremendous bang, and a crash like a wall coming down.

Jason jerked up in his bed, his mind barely half awake, eyes still closed. Just as he strugglingly cracked his eyelids open, two incredibly, magnificently bright flashes of light struck in rapid succession. Much, much brighter than any lightning, the magnesium-perchlorate blasts sent hot white shadows piercing through slightly dimmer shadows piercing in turn ever dimmer shadows all the way to the unfathomable darkness that ordinarily passes for a bright June morning. They also sent Jason back into bed - a writhing, confused pile of disorganised flesh that reflexively assumed the fetal position. Jason himself, as opposed to Jason's body, Jason-the-thought lay scattered, a million tiny shards all over the room, hiding from the sound and the fury, signifying nothing.

A wall had in fact came down.

Jason's house - a duplex in a long row of similar constructions, one among many rows that together appeared, from high enough up, like a strange sort of battery, perhaps housing highly productive chickens, or NiMH elements, or NAND gates - enjoyed the temporary blessing of having been recently built. The plot allowed for one more row before the highway, but that row hadn't yet had any work done, not even foundations dug. An ancient, thoroughly beat up but apparently still very solid Dodge pick-up truck had driven off the highway, backed up against Jason's house, and drove straight into the wall. The year-old construction gave way without much opposition, like the tender flesh of a very nubile sixteen year old that was asking for it, and in the gaping hole thus created two slender, impetuous silhouettes grabbed the man's body, prepped it for a few moments and threw it in the back of their truck.

Then they took off.

Jason awoke in a very confused mental state, in a very unfamiliar, large room. There were beds everwhere, bunk beds, stacked three high. There must have been fifty or five hundred of them - from where he lay Jason couldn't really see the ends of it. There was a fetid stench permeating the air, like old, dilute urine slowly decomposing in a well aired room. He tried to get up but it didn't work out quite as well as he'd have expected. He went to curse, but nothing came out except for a muffled "gwaah". Evidently, Jason had something in his mouth.

"O look, he's coming through!" A thin, strange man moved into view. He wasn't either young or old, maybe thirty or so. He was dressed up in the most peculiar fashion imaginable, and the sight sent Jason's wits reeling. For one thing, his pubic hair was shaved. That plain statement does not really do any sort of justice to the situation, it isn't that the man was shaved like you or I had enough of heat and perspiration one day and took a trimmer to the bush, leaving a light stubble. No, nothing of the kind : the man sported a landing strip. Smooth like after a bikini wax on either side, one inch of thick fur starting at the root of his penis and losing itself towards the ombelicum. A landing strip. Jason had never seen such a thing on a man before, but while he was struggling to make sense of that situation, there were much bigger problems to fry.

For instance, have you even stopped to consider why was it that Jason had direct and unobstructed view of another man's peculiar pubic coiffure habits ? It's because the man was naked, pretty much completely. No tie. No shirt. No shoes even. So, stark naked, except... he was wearing a belt.

A belt upon which, through the mediation of some sort of metal bit, his penis was attached. Jason couldn't take his eyes off this novel calamity. So, a thick, solid ring was somehow fastened around the root of the man's penis, encompassing that organ and the ballsack. Then, the penis itself was encased in a solid metal tube, which for one thing didn't seem nearly large enough to accomodate an erection. At the bottom, this tube had a second ring, which affixed it solidly to the first, while separating the balls into a solitary - and quite apparently very vulnerable - aside. At the tip, this tube had a chain affixed on the side of the wearer, and a cutout in a stylisized v shape towards the outside world.

Jason's most infantile curiosity possessed him to proceed and ask "how do you even pee in that thing ?!" but only a muffled cry came out. Had he managed to ask, the man might have explained : that he gets on all fours, next to the dedicated hole. Face down on the ground, chest low, clunky metal gear carefully placed against the nickel lip of the New Model Men's Urinal, so he doesn't accidentally piss all over his face, like a noob. Because yes, noobs do occasionally manage to shoot themselves straight in the eye, until they learn how to use the damned thing. That they would is unsurprising after all, the very point of the design was to give men the opportunity to enjoy the benefits of womanhood, but turned up a little. So if girls can readily piss on their feet if they're not careful, why shouldn't boys risk pissing on their face ?

"So he has, look at that. How ya feelin', boy ?" A corpulent, slighly older man looking a little like an ex wrestler or body builder that had recently stopped working out much, sporting the same otherwordly dress sense (except for the heartshaped pattern instead of the landing strip) crowded Jason's visual field and ever narrowing ability to process his immediate experiences. Jason might have emitted yet another muffled squeak in return, but he still had much bigger problems to fry. For instance, looking down at his own, completely visible cock and balls he discovered with unmitigated, unspeakable horror that yes! He was wearing one of those belts and cock cages too! No weirdo hairdo, however.

"Hehehehe, yep." laughed Landing Strip. "Of course. Whadda ya thought, that you're special or something ?"
"The reason you can't talk, if you're curious" continued Landing Strip imperturbably, "Is because you have a ball gag on. Well... to be perfectly fair it's not exactly a ball gag, it's more like a penis gag. If you feel around with your tongue, you can make out the head and everything."

Jason had in fact noticed this, and he was not particularly thankful for the reminder. Yes, he had a penis shaped item in his mouth, restricting his speech to an incomprehensible squeak, making his jaws uncomfortable and for that matter, nobody seems to have bothered asking him if he wanted it or anything! He struggled to get up, but somehow that still didn't work.

"You're also restrained, obviously. Don't worry, they'll come and lead you to orientation just as soon as they feel like it. In the meanwhile, how about we have a little chat ?"

Jason stared.

"Look, Fuckstick, I think he wants to have a little chat!" The fat guy with the heartshaped hairdo, apparently undisturbed by the insolite apellation, gave a gruff, indistinct approval.

"Don't worry, I'm only calling him Fuckstick because I have to. That's the rule here, everyone gets a nice suggestive name like that. I'm Bunghole. You ever seen that old cartoon show, Beavis and Butthead ? That's where it's from. There's also a Beavis and a Butthead, but they're assholes. Anyway, you'll get one too, won't that be fun ?"

Jason stared.

"Yeah, the crotch thing... I must admit, it takes some getting used to. The idea is for your balls to be always exposed and vulnerable. Most of the ladies - by the way, don't ever say anything other than lady you hear ? None of that c word or that other c word or anything, they have the whole place bugged and some sort of computer or something, Linux I think they call it, automatically monitors it for words like that. You can get one hell of a caning even for whispering anything like that. So, ladies and lady or mylady or that, okay ? Remember that. Anyway, most of the ladies are nice enough about it, they just gently rub it or maybe lightly run their nails over it now and again, but there's some real ballbusting ones too, that'll hold your jewels in a vice grip for as long as they're talking to you. It can turn a man blue just thinking about it."

Jason continued to stare.

"Anyway, as I was saying, the idea is for you to live like a woman for a little bit, there's this Headmaster guy that few people have seen and nobody ever talks about. I've never seen him myself. But they kidnap guys just like us and well, I think they let some go now and again. Maybe. Obviously nobody's ever coming back to tell the story so we don't rightly know. Anyway, after orientation you'll get that out of your mouth and your arms and legs free and everything. You'll end up with one of those shock collars for a while, until you prove to them that you intend to behave properly, and you can really get jolted for no reason before that, so my advice to you and the best advice you ever heard is this : get them to think you're as happy as a puppy to be here. Pretend you're a little gay even, that can' hurt anything. They are going to fuck you in the ass a lot, whether you want to or not, might as well enjoy the experience I always say."

"You know who's the nicest lady of them all ?" intervened Fuckstick, apropos of nothing at all, as if for the entire interval he had been engaged in the laborious, involved consideration of some sidepoint mentioned in passing minutes afore. "The tall one, with the hair. lady Adele."

"Oh, yeah, lady Adele's great. One day she comes up to me and says, listen Bunghole, would you like to have consensual anal sex for the first time in your life ? It damn near brought a tear to my eye, she actually understands us, that one! So yeah, I went right to it right then and there, gave her the best orgasm of my life. She's great."

"Pee-nut. Shit-nut. Puke-nut. Tear-nut. Bleed-nut." Fuckstick was chanting, not loudly but with a sustained tempo that was slighty aggravating, cutting each improbable construction very short on the "nut" syllable.

"Oh, don't mind him, he just likes naming nuts." Bunghole offered. "Anyway, as I was saying ...

But Jason was no longer listening. In fact, Jason as such, Jason the continuation of the child growing up in his parents' house, Jason the continuation of the teenager riding his bike, going to school, of the young adult getting a job, making some money and being swindled into buying "his own" first time home was no longer. A chapter in the story of his life had closed shut, in the fetid atmosphere enlivened by the chatter of Bunghole and Fuckstick, and a new, an entirely new chapter begun. The same body that used to house Jason was now reclaimed for an entirely different purpose than the continuation of the delusion of Jason-ness. It was going to get a new name, it was going to be useful in new, scary, unimaginable ways to people it didn't even care or for that matter know about before this morning.

It was, in a sense, like marriage. Which, as you well know, is the happiest thing that can ever after happen.

  1. Ie, I suspect she knew she was going to lose ("He bet me Dustin Hoffman was in Star Wars!"), and she knew there's going to be hell to pay, and while she can't bring herself to be honest in front of a mirror and join the ranks of the happily, humbly nude... yet she can't really walk away from it all, either. []
  2. Like so : you're to write out - by hand! in good penmanship! - a card detailing how you will suck off whoever presents it to you. A "one free cocksucking" coupon. It doesn't matter how it ends up in anyone's possession, if you find yourself having to blow some random guy that stole your purse you blow some random guy that stole your purse. And like it!

    Once it's redeemed you can burn it, but before it's redeemeed that card is going to be always in your bag, for all of 2015. And don't start carrying totes now, either. []

Category: Cuvinte Sfiinte
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