A Homosexual Erotic Fiction by ManaPuppy.
DISCLAIMER: All events portrayed were consensual events between consenting adults. This story is a sensationalized fiction based on true events.
CHAPTER ONE:
"Wharr?" I slurred, dimly realizing that it wasn't an actual word. My nose scrunched in confusion and I moved my tongue around in my mouth. "You okay?" Bryce repeated. He'd stood a few inches taller than me, but now he seemed to tower over me. "Ba---rhm." I struggled, eyes widening in panic now, understanding that I couldn't get my voice to work. At the same time my limbs slackened, and I fell forward onto my hands and knees. A wave of nausea hit me and I propped my forehead against Bryce's bed, trying to steady myself. Had somebody roofied my drink? I shook my head, trying to clear it. Nobody would have any reason to want to hurt me -- I didn't even know anybody in the residence. Through the drug-fueled fog, I heard something move. That and a sudden pressure on my temples alerted me to Bryce's presence, and I flinched away from his touch, trying to get up, and out. "Whuu-thuhh---unhhh" I tried to get my tongue to work again as I retreated in a sort of active crouch. The instant I tried to straighten my legs to stand vertically, a wave of nausea hit again and I fell forward onto my hands, groaning and panting. I swayed back and forth stumbling, and heard feet moving around me again. "Shhhhhh." Bryce's voice said. Thick, calloused, guitar-player's fingers tangled with my hair and scratched my scalp. Instantly the nausea stopped, replaced by a wave of pleasure. I could feel myself flushing feverishly, I felt warm, hot-headed, confused. My head fell forward again, propped onto the other side of Bryce's bed. My mouth opened, and my tongue fell out, too exhausted for another attempt at speech. I huffed, trying desperately to figure out what kind of-- "It's okay." The fingers wrapped themselves in my hair again, and they moved up and down in tracks. I jerked away, once, but the instant of the first pull of his digits against my flesh, my brain flooded again with ecstasy and my body fell forward, wriggling feverishly. I felt, more than saw Bryce move behind me. His hands reached around to my belt buckle, and I felt him work at the leather. "Barr--wuh---barnn." I tried to tell him to stop, but words wouldn't form. I tried to move away, but my brain felt muddled by whatever drugs had somehow gotten into my system. My limbs wouldn't respond at all as his hands played over my stomach and chest. My fear started to amp up then, because I tried to move each hand, tried to kick out with my legs or dodge to the side away from him. As long as his fingers were upon me, I felt like a posed mannequin, helpless. What was more, my previous attempts at calling out seemed to have exhausted my tongue, my mouth, my vocal chords -- everything around there felt stuffy and wooly, like my mouth was swollen and stuffed full of cotton. My tongue felt twice and twice again too big for my mouth, and seemed to loll out once or twice a minute. Keeping focus on trying to move was difficult too, because of what Bryce's fingers kept doing. His examination of my chest went under-shirt, and it wasn't long before he had me out of it entirely. I was disgusted with how my arms obeyed his touch. I began to shake with fear when I realized that not even my fingers would respond anymore. Bryce pulled down my pants and boxers in one next, my legs co-operated just as well as my arms, and I felt that I could pound against the inside of myself as one would a wall -- could batter myself in frustration. Trying to get my body to do anything other than zone out dumbly at the mattress, swaying back and forth, was very much like pounding fists against a brick wall. I felt like I was somehow observing myself from the outside, I felt so outside of my own control and distanced from my connection to my body. That's when his fingers began to run over my backside. He slid his fingers in between my hairy crack, running them over my hole. I tried to jerk away, but every time he touched me a wave of pleasure was sent from the same place as when Bryce scratched my head. I felt violated, but every touch of that place sent shivers down my spine, and blood directly from my heart to my cock. His other hand wrapped possessively around my growing manhood as I shivered under his fingers, my hips beginning to thrust of their own will into him. I struggled to look at him, but my head wouldn't move, I struggled to jerk out, to get away, but my hips wouldn't obey. Internally I finally began to cry. I sobbed within the prison of my brain as Bryce stroked me, licking his lips. I wailed against the confines of my mind, desperate to get way from him. I screamed and begged and pleaded, and none of it made it to my eyes, which continued their glazed stare at the man's bed. None of it made it to my tongue, which continued to loll out, too big and too tired for its mouth. None of it reached my voice, which emitted a constant, low whine, as easily mistaken for pleasure as for pain. None of it reached my body, which continued to receive involuntary spasms of pleasure from Bryce's every touch. I was too tired and too fogged out to understand what was going on then. Too freshly drugged to understand the full implications. There was too much emotion and anger... There was too much...too much... Bryce's hands left my crotch abruptly and rubbed my back, my chest, my shoulders. He sat down on the bed and looked down at me. I made eye contact with his muscular thigh, eyes glazed over as fuck. His hand ran backward through my hair. "Good boy." He said softly. A wave of pleasure ripped through my body unlike anything up to and including Bryce touching my cock. My body struggled not to spasm with the rush off endorphins, my dick throbbed and instantly began to leak a slow dribble of precum. I shivered, both in aftermath of the wave of pleasure, and fear of it and its source. Bryce chuckled and continued to pet my hair, which continued to feel so good. Too good. My body continued to sway gently side-to-side. My mouth continued to not respond. I continued to try to assess, to understand, to.... My brain continued to feel like it was shot full of holes. And still Bryce's fingers wound through my hair. Affectionately, absently, keeping me right there...forcing me to stay right there.
------EARLIER------
"Yo, which floor are you guys on?" Static buzzed into my cell phone, as though I was trying to call somebody in an elevator...or perhaps a concrete bunker. Staring up at the monolith that was `Teryx Towers', I was beginning to suspect I might be correct about the latter. "...hello?" More static on the other end. "...Matt?" The voice on the other end, finally said clearly. "Yo, Matt, is that you?" "Hey, yah." I answered back. "Sorry about that, we were just coming back up. Third floor, bro, number 48. To the right outta the elevator, all the way at the end of the hallway." There was a pause. "You...uh...you got the beer?" Bryce finished, slowly. He sounded tense. It made sense though. Teryx Towers was a student residence -- a lot of the people at the party were under the drinking age, and half the reason Bryce was letting me come was because I'd agreed to bring a couple two-fours to help out. I went to a different school, so it wasn't as though I would have been invited naturally.
---EVEN EARLIER---
Bryce and I had only met a few days before that, at the Library on my campus. I had been looking through the Science Fiction collection, and turned to find Bryce right behind me, staring at the same book that I had just picked out. His face blushed as red as his hair, and he looked me full in the eye, for he was around my height. He'd told me that his Uni didn't have the right edition, and he'd been trying to find some way of getting the book. That he needed it for references to an essay. I asked him what school he went to, he told me, and that's when I noticed how built he was. "You go to...to Jupiter University?" I asked, stunned. Jupiter was an elite school for the Athletic and Performing Arts, accepting only the top athletes, performers and musicians in the world. Meeting one of the handful per year that was accepted was sort of like meeting the Tooth Fairy. ...Bryce, the red-haired Tooth Fairy, nodded anxiously. "And I've been trying to get the courage up to ask the Librarian all day, but I just don't know how she'd respond. I mean, I'm not a student here. And no public library has that edition of `Currents of Space'." His eyes lit up like a puppy dog and somehow, despite the huge-ness of his biceps, he looked endearing. Vulnerable. A bit pathetic. My shoulders had sagged in defeat. "Okay, fine, I'll check it out for you." I tried to make myself sound resentful, but I felt pretty bad for him. And besides, I'd get to tell people that I'd met a kid from Jupiter.
Bryce sidled up close to me at the check-out desk, his eyes sparkled like little firecrackers. When we were hip to hip he said, in a low voice, "Say...what year did you say you were in again?" "...why?" I kept my voice even, moving away with the book. Bryce threw his head back with careless nonchalance and grinned. When he did that he seemed to glow. "Weeellllll." He said, slowly. He flinched, as though a child caught in a lie. "You see, there is this party on Friday." "A Jupiter party?" I asked, a bit too loudly, a bit too quickly. I breathed. I'd just been invited to a Jupiter party. I looked up at him feverishly, continuing. "What kind of...I mean, will there be--" Bryce slung an arm around my shoulder. "It's my whole floor," he said, "so mostly super-hot, elite musicians." His right hand smoothed the air in front of me horizontally, as if advertising what was behind `door-number-three'. Something in me suddenly hitched. I stopped walking, and Bryce took a few more steps before noticing. He whirled around, cocking an eyebrow. "Well?" He asked, hands on his hips. "What's the catch?" I said, in a small voice. My hands had found their way to the seat pockets of my jeans. Bryce rolled his eyes. "Booze." He said, evenly. "Half of us aren't old enough to drink yet." I scoffed, but wasn't sure what to say. His eyes lit up again, and he regarded me in stillness. The moment carried on just long enough to become awkward. I decided to break the silence. "I--" Bryce spread his hands out, stopping me from speaking. "Look. Give us a hand and..." his eyes flickered down, then up. "...maybe somebody from Jupiter will give you a hand." He smiled, then turned away and pulled out his phone, tapping away at it. I was stunned, and he'd gone half a dozen steps before I walked forward, half-reaching out. Just as I opened my mouth to call to Bryce, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I opened it. [[Yo, this is Bryce. Bring two packs of 24. Something light. Come at 8, no sooner, come alone.]] I snapped my phone shut. ...a party with Jupiter people. My mind was imagining scenes similar to the orgies at the Olympic Village as I raced to the nearest building that sold twenty-four packs of beer that was light.
---FRIDAY, AFTER THE PARTY---
...after...after, after, with Bryce stroking my hair...I found it hard to remember anything. I could barely remember how I got in Bryce's room, either. ...I vaguely remember he wanted to show me his guitar. It had been a beautiful thing, varnished, an oak affair. Strong and dark and thick. Bryce was, as it turned out, a fabulous guitarist and that's why he was at Jupiter. I could barely remember anybody else at the party. Not then, anyway. I couldn't remember anything new at all from the whole day except for...Bryce.
That first night there was just Bryce's bed, and Bryce's leg, and Bryce's hand in my hair, scratching forward and back...forward and back. Slowly and totally obscuring...slowing all of my thoughts. I thought it would never end.
When it eventually did end was when he opened his closet door, revealing something like a dog kennel...but larger...and made entirely of stainless steel. One hand entangled in my hair he hung a piece of thick leather on my neck, and began playing with it with his other hand. Only as it buckled shut did I understand it was a very thick, sturdy collar. With the hand that had been on my head he dragged me forward by the collar, the other hand was placed firmly on my backside and pushed forward. I barely had time to think as I was shuffled and herded into the steel prison, which was swiftly shut and padlocked. In another instant the closet door was shut, plunging me into darkness, and I was alone.
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