Previously
"My fault?!" Ericsson was shouting now.
Davenport nodded vehemently. "He wouldn't have felt compelled to tell us that story if you'd been able to control your urges!"
"Point of fact, Davenport, he was compelled to tell us the truth!" Cutledge roared.
"And that truth is going to get you a baby, Jake," Davenport stated calmly. "And you," he looked at Ericsson, "it's going give you the one thing you've always wanted but never had."
He glowered at them, staring them down. "Now, both of you look me in the eye and tell me you don't still want to go through with this!"
Stunning both of them, Cutledge got out of the car, but not before commanding Bryce, "Get your ass to that basement right now!"
With a self-satisfied grin, Davenport followed Cutledge into the house. Ericsson was left alone in the dark to ponder his next move. He was just about to head inside, determined to see this thing through, when something caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Looking up, he spotted Bryce's single glob of cum on the ceiling of the truck. After a quick glance at the house to make sure that no one saw, he reached up, scooped the cum onto his index finger, and brought it to his mouth.
He'd swallowed it before he realized just what he'd done.
Chapter Four
Blind.
That's how Bryce felt when he was finally able to open his eyes. He vaguely remembered a male voice commanding him to wake up just a few moments before, but it seemed like ages to Bryce before he finally felt 'awake'. He blinked his eyes against the harsh surgical light that was suspended over him. When he tried to raise his hand to shield his eyes, it wouldn't budge. Puzzled, he glanced down at it, but found that nothing was holding him down. He tried to move it again, but got the same result. The same thing happened with his other arm, both legs, and his hips. From the neck down, the jock was completely immobile. He was also, he realized in a rush of embarrassment, completely naked and still sporting a raging erection.
His body rested on a recliner constructed entirely of clear Lucite. The back was propped at a perfect forty-five degree angle, as was the section supporting his spread legs, and his heels rested on a pair of stirrups. He felt like squirming because he wasn't quite comfortable in the chair, but he couldn't move. It took him a moment to realize why he was unable to sit comfortably, but then he realized that his ass cheeks were being held apart by some odd sort of cage. The more he concentrated on it, the more he could feel a slight breeze licking over his open crevice and the tight bud of muscle between his cheeks.
'There's a hole or something in this chair!'
he realized with dawning trepidation. Indeed, the Gluteus Cage had been fitted to into the chair, and the 'seat' he was in was actually the cage itself.
As his eyes began to adjust further, he frantically took in his surroundings. He was in a large, clinically clean space. Everywhere he looked, some strange new sight met his eyes -- machines whose functions he could only guess at, devices so complex he worried that it might actually hurt his brain to even give assessing them a try. A stainless steel tray sat atop a cart next to his head. The tray was empty, save for a long silicon tube that was about two-inches in diameter and rounded on both ends. When Bryce craned his neck to get a better look at, he noted with some confusion that it was covered in small, evenly spaced bumps.
"Where the hell am I?" he asked the empty room.
Thoroughly confounded already, he couldn't help the startled, reflexive jump that leapt through him when the segment of the wall in front of him began to descend into the floor. As it went, another room was slowly revealed to him. Just on the other side of the wall, he spotted a suspension bar with several straps hanging from it. Judging from the tautness of the straps, Bryce figured that they must have held something rather heavy.
His jaw went lax once the wall had descended enough for him to see exactly what...or who was trapped in the binding contraption.
"Gareth?" he whispered in shock, struggling to rise from his own confinement to aide his unconscious friend. "Gare! Come on, man, wake the fuck up!" The two jocks were positioned so that they were facing each other and Bryce could see that Gareth's face and body were covered with sweat.
Gareth didn't respond, though. He just moaned softly in his unconscious state. Bryce stared in disbelief, taking in the sight of his friend, bent forward on all fours and hung in the air with his ass high and legs spread. Because his ass was so high, Bryce could clearly see that it was encased in the same contraption that must have been holding his own cheeks apart.
In the silence between Gareth's tortured moans, Bryce could hear a faint squishing sound coming from somewhere behind Gareth. He quickly realized that it was actually coming from Gareth's behind and watched in horrified fascination as a shiny, clear nub of some rubbery looking plastic began to slowly appear between Gareth's raised ass cheeks. As more of it began to protrude, it dipped down towards Gareth's balls, disappearing from sight for a moment before landing with a sickening splat on the white tile floor.
Bryce stared the squirming thing, this wriggling plastic 'worm', in horror. It was a skinnier, smooth version of the thing on the tray next to him! Suddenly, the hole in the seat of the chair made sense and Bryce began to panic.
"Ah, yes," a voice sounded from the top of the stairs at the far end of the room. "He should be fully awake now. I think it's time to wake Gareth as well. We'll be down in a moment, Marshall. Please make sure our new specimen is prepped and get Gareth cleaned up and ready for phase three."
"Sure thing, Uncle Tyson," a younger voice replied eagerly.
Bryce frowned.
'Marshall? Marshall Clancy?' he thought angrily. 'What the fuck?'
He heard Dr. Clancy shout down in a commanding voice, "Gareth, wake up!"
Bryce turned his attention back to Gareth. He watched as his friend slowly opened his eyes and gave his head a quick shake to clear it. Gareth immediately noted his binds and tried to pull against them, his body struggling hard against the Reverse Harness.
"Gare?" Bryce called.
Instantly, the darker-haired jock stopped struggling and his gaze snapped over to his friend. "Bryce? Oh, my god! Bryce, you gotta help me outta this thing!"
"Dude, I can't even move myself!" Bryce replied just as frantically.
Gareth looked him over in confusion. "But you're not tied down or anything, how..."
Bryce shook his head. "I don't know how, but I'm just as stuck here as you! What the fuck's going on?"
Instead of answering him, though, Gareth began to panic. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit. We
have
to get outta here! I can't take anymore!"
"What are you talking about?" Bryce asked urgently. "What do they want?"
He watched as Gareth's eyes widened and he issued a hard groan. Bryce's gaze snapped up to Marshall who was now standing behind Gareth with a grin on his freckled face. He hadn't even heard Marshall come down the stairs. As Bryce watched, the muscles in Marshall's right arm were moving, but Bryce couldn't see what Marshall's hand was doing. But when Gareth gave several grunts and his eyes widened further, Bryce realized that Marshall was fingering his friend's upturned ass.
"What we want," Marshall said, continuing to pivot his middle and index fingers in and out of Gareth's pink hole, "is your cum."
Bryce could feel himself getting angry. They'd never done anything to this punk before, in fact, Gareth actually played nice to the little bastard. While Bryce had never really been buddy-buddy with Marshall, he'd laid off of him for Gareth's sake. It didn't make any sense. "Why are you doin' this? What'd we ever do to you, Clancy?"
Marshall smiled again, curving his fingers down to pet Gareth's prostate. Gareth moaned, his eyes rolling back even as he turned his head to the side to avoid the shame of Bryce seeing his face.
"Bryce Duke and Gareth Prince," Marshall began. "The two most popular guys at school from way back. I used to watch you guys in the locker room growing up, did you know that? Every year you just seemed to get bigger and better. Me? Not so much. I've wanted Gareth for a long time -- wanted to touch him, rub him down and lick every inch of his body since I can remember. And you? Man, the stories everybody heard from Hayleigh "Sugar Pussy" McElroy about that dick of yours. Whew, I've wanted a taste of that since freshman year."
Marshall stopped to pull his fingers from Gareth's ass and went to his knees to pick up the weakly squirming worm from the floor. He looked back up at Bryce. "What do you think would'a happened if I'd just asked one of you guys out?"
"We'd have told you to go fuck yourself!" Bryce hissed.
Marshall responded with a quiet chuckle as he reached up to grab Gareth's dick. He pulled it down and wrapped his moist lips around the bulbous head. He let his tongue swirl around it, dancing over the tip and into the slit, sucking softly on the smooth flesh. Gareth moaned and rolled his hips, clearly loving the sensation of Marshall's tongue on this dick even though it made him uncomfortable. All the while, Marshall never took his eyes off of Bryce's face.
"Mmmmmmm," he moaned as he pulled his mouth away from the treat of Gareth's cockhead. "That's exactly what I thought you'd have said, too. Which is precisely why I jumped on this opportunity as soon as I got the call from my uncle."
Marshall stood and sauntered over to Bryce, who shrank back as best as he could from him.
