Campus Case Study
Part 29: Hostage.
Class was the last thing on my mind Wednesday morning. I kept feeling like I couldn’t breathe. Nerves, I told myself. Marty’d been tied up at my house for a week today. I had to deal with him once and for all.
Today.
The good news was that yesterday my friendly neighborhood street-corner pharmacist had gotten in touch. He was able to secure some of the drug I was interested in acquiring. In my excitement I had become emboldened and dashed off a note to Mr. C. Boldt. He wouldn’t be a concern much longer.
I telephoned the college and cancelled class. Next I dialed Nick and instructed him to drive here. I performed by morning ablutions, whistling jauntily. Today would solve my problems with Marty and prove my theory with Nick. Soon the scientific community would be forced to acknowledge my contributions to the betterment of mankind. Why, once gender and sexuality were conquered, there’d be nothing man couldn’t accomplish.
I entered my study and looked at Marty. He wasn’t looking so good. The realities of holding a grown man hostage against his will were much more difficult than television made it seem. There was food, drink, and bathroom breaks to consider. Not to mention the odor stemming from a week of not bathing or changing clothes. Marty’s hair was greasy and his beard had grown in. His face was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes.
He looked like a Prisoner of War.
I had gotten supplies over the weekend at a local shop. Marty’s hands were cuffed behind his back and his feet were held by metal shackles. He was locked in my spare bedroom at night, chained to the bed. By day he was strapped to a chair in my study, thick bands of leather pinning his chest and knees to the seat.
His eyes darted around the room once he saw me.
I removed the gag from his mouth and tipped a bottle of water to his lips. He drank greedily, water dribbling down his chin.
“Nick is on his way over,” I informed him.
Relief seemed to wash over the boy. “I knew he’d help me get out of here.”
“I hate to tell you this, Marty, but Nick helped me get you here to begin with.”
Marty sagged against the chair. “Someone will find me. You can’t keep me here forever.”
“No one would think to look for you here. You’ll stay gone until I decide you should turn up. But today might be your lucky day.”
“You’re going to let me go?”
“Quite possibly.”
The doorbell rang.
I clasped my hand over Marty’s mouth. “Who is it?”
“Nick,” came the reply.
I let him in and locked the front door. I was taken aback by the sight of him. I didn’t know what to take in first: his black and white singlett, his bald head, or the erection bulging at his crotch.
“Tell me, Beach Boy, what have you done since the last time I saw you?”
“Mike came over last night and I sucked on him.”
“Excellent. Did he enjoy it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did you?”
“Yes, sir.”
I smiled. “I see you shaved your head.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nick, your singlett is nice, but you would find it more pleasurable to wear more spandex. In fact, you will find that when you dress in spandex from head to toe your orgasm feels stronger. The spandex covers you like a second skin, magnifying every sensation, leading directly to your cock.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nick?” Marty called. “Is that you? Help me!”
I led Nick into the study.
Marty’s face contorted in surprise. “Nick! What has he done to you? You have to help me, Buddy. Get me out of here!” Marty’s voice was pleading.
Nick made no response.
“He doesn’t know you,” I said. “Only my voice.”
“Of course he knows me! He’s my best friend! You can’t just wipe that out.”
I crossed to the roll-top desk and pulled out a pair of scissors. “Would you care to wager on that?”
Marty hesitated. “What do you mean?”
“How curious are you to test your theory that Nick wouldn’t forget that you’re his best friend?”
“How can you test that?”
“Does Nick know a lot about you?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know what happened when Mike tried to suck your dick?”
Color rose in Marty’s face. “How do you know about that?” He sounded angry.
“Nick told me, of course. How else would I know?” I did a palms-up. “From what I understand you were quite belligerent.”
Marty’s eyes were hard. “So?”
“I gather you don’t approve of homosexuality?”
Marty tried to shift in his chair, but the leather straps and chains holding him prevented it. “Hey, man, whatever people want to do in their bedroom is okay with me.”
“You’re homophobic, aren’t you, Marty?”
“I don’t go that way. That’s all.” He gritted his teeth.
I handed the scissors to Nick. “Beach Boy, cut the jeans off the man in the chair. Be careful not to disturb the leather strap at his knees.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nick crossed to Marty and knelt before him. He slid the scissors up Marty’s left pantleg and began cutting a line up his calf.
Marty craned his neck, fighting to lean forward and see the route the scissors were taking. “What are you doing, Nick? Knock it off! Stop!”
“I’d suggest you quit squirming,” I told Marty. “If he slips and cuts you you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”
Marty froze.
Nick reached the leather strap, cut as far under it as he could, then stuck the scissors into the incision above the strap. He slit the material up Marty’s thigh.
Then he repeated the path with the right pantleg. He forced the scissors with both hands to cut a line across the zipper.
Marty’s jeans hung open under his legs, exposing his crew socks and a pair of plaid boxers.
“Now the boxers,” I instructed Nick. “Remove them.”
Marty looked at me in terror.
Nick made quick work of cutting off the cotton boxers.
“Nick,” I said. “You’re kneeling in front of Mike’s cock. What does it remind you of?”
“A lollipop,” Nick replied.
“What should you do?”
“Suck it.”
“Nick, this one of those all day suckers. Take your time.”
Nick’s head bobbed down and his tongue pressed to Marty’s limp cock.
“No!” Marty cried. He struggled against the chair.
But Nick was focused on his all day sucker.
Within moments Marty’s limp penis responded to the attention it was receiving. It lengthened and fattened until it stood.
Marty winced as though he were being physically pummeled.
One of the many advantages of being twenty-one is the ability to become erect in seconds. At Marty’s age he could rub up against a tree and get hard. And the warm, wet attention his cock was receiving from Nick’s willing mouth was too much sensual overload for his shock and revulsion to withstand.
Nick continued to lick and suck Marty’s swollen member.
For his part, Marty looked pained and incessantly begged Nick to stop. All of his bluster was gone, replaced with whimpering.
Soon his protesting became breathier and more urgent. Sweat glistened on Marty’s forehead.
His chest heaved as he bucked and shot into Nick’s mouth.
When it was over Marty hung his head. He looked like death would be a welcome show of mercy.
“Don’t worry, Marty. Nick has no idea he just gave you, his best friend, a blowjob. He won’t even remember how much you enjoyed it. How much pleasure you derived from the mouth of your male best friend. How much a homosexual act aroused you.”
Marty’s head whipped up. “You sick fuck!” he spat out. “How could you make him do that? How could you stand there and watch? You knew I couldn’t get away! Fuck!” Marty’s voice choked off. “Fuck,” he whispered. “It’s like rape.”
Nick continued to kneel before Marty, staring cluelessly at his former best friend’s wilting erection.
Marty’s breathing was ragged, and he was trembling.
The telephone buzzed.
I slid Marty’s gag into place and realized his cheeks were moist.
The phone call was from my contact. He had the stuff. I’d meet him in twenty minutes. I hung up.
“Nick, follow me.”
He got to his feet and followed me down the hall to the spare bedroom.
“Inside you’ll find a change of clothes. Put them on and wait for me to come for you. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.”
I closed him inside the bedroom and left the house.
To be continued in Part 30...
Campus Case Study
Part 30: Climax.
An hour had passed since I left the house. The only difference was the small vial of clear liquid in my possession.
My heart was racing. This was too much excitement. The culmination of my research lay inside. I shut the door and locked it, in a rush of exhilaration and anticipation.
I hurried past the study.
Marty craned his neck to see me.
I pushed open the bedroom door.
Nick stood in the center of the room. He was covered in green spandex. A pair of footed spandex pants accentuated the muscles in his calves and thighs, coming to a closed sleeve which encased his hard cock. A shirt of matching hue form-fitted his chest, covering his arms, housing his hands in spandex mittens. A spandex hood covered his bald head, with a small round cutout for his eyes, nose and mouth. He was virtually sheathed in spandex.
His eyes were glazed and he appeared to be quivering.
“How do you feel, Nick?”
“Good, sir,” he said on a sigh.
“Do you feel your orgasm increasing in intensity with each passing moment you wear spandex?”
His breath caught, then he exhaled.
“Your orgasm will continue to grow as your skin becomes increasingly sensitized by the spandex. The spandex serves to amplify every touch, every feeling. Spandex and sex are interchangeable for you now, Nick. You no longer need to masturbate. Anything touching your spandex-covered body will feel like sex to you. You can feel it on the soles of your feet even as you stand there.”
Nick made a small squeak in his throat.
“Follow me,” I instructed.
He stepped forward and gasped.
By the time we reached the study he was panting. He sank to one knee in the doorway. When his hand hit his thigh for support a shiver ran through his body.
I could only imagine the pure pleasure coursing through him.
I pulled the gag from Marty’s lips. “What do you think of your friend now?”
“What have you done to him?”
“He’s not in pain.”
Nick moaned and sank to the floor, catching himself with his hands. He let out a groan as his palms hit the floor.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s experiencing the longest, most intense orgasm he can imagine.”
“You twisted piece of shit!”
I slid the gag back into place. I could do without the insults from the pantless boy bound to the chair.
I picked up the scissors and cut a line down the front of Marty’s sweater, from his neck to his crotch, avoiding the leather strap pinning his chest to the chair back. Then I slit the sleeves apart. His naked chest and arms were soon on display.
I pulled the vial from my pocket and set it on the open desk. I produced a syringe from one of the drawers.
Marty’s eyes were round as could be.
I filled the syringe and turned to face him.
Suddenly Nick cried out. He was lying on the floor on his back, arms and legs cast out, moaning and writhing.
I turned my attention back to Marty.
“Don’t worry, boy, this isn’t lethal. In fact, this little concoction saved your life.” I flicked the syringe and squirted out a drop.
“Regrettably there is a drawback to this means of dealing with you. This drug is not completely without side effects. It will erase your memories of being here and my work with Nick. Unfortunately it’s not an exact science. The best we can do is experiment with dosage.”
Marty’s eyes were wild. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. He was fighting against the gag to talk.
Curiosity won out. I removed the gag.
“Please don’t inject me with that,” he begged. Marty had suddenly become an expert at groveling.
“It won’t hurt. You’ll feel a little pinch.”
“But you said you don’t know how much to give me!”
“True. I could erase only a day or two. Or I could accidentally wipe out your entire mind.”
“No!” he cried. “I don’t want to forget who I am! I’m not a bad guy. I don’t deserve this!”
“You don’t think so? You have no one else to blame. You chose to follow Nick and involve yourself where you didn’t belong.”
“I was worried about him!” Marty glanced at his splayed-out friend. “Nick, you have to help me.” His tone was earnest. “You can’t let him do this to me. C’mon, bro. It’s me. It’s Marty. You have to remember me!”
Nick seemed to be working his way out of his stupor. He lifted himself to a sitting position.
“Beach Boy,” I said, “With every breath your orgasm is becoming intensified. Each time you inhale your chest brushes against the spandex, pulling it taught against your nipples, sending fire down to your penis. Each time you exhale a new wave of electricity washes through your body. Your mind is unable to grasp anything but the sheer pleasure you are feeling. You are utterly lost in an orgasm, Nick.”
His body shuddered and dropped to the floor.
Marty looked stunned. “How can you do that to him? You’ve just told him he’s having an orgasm and he’s so wracked with it he can’t move!”
I knew he didn’t care to hear the answer. He was buying time.
“It’s a pity it didn’t work with you. You’re a handsome boy, Marty. And you’re well-endowed. Your cock would’ve looked good shaved and covered in spandex.”
My eyes lingered on his flaccid penis.
Marty looked down and cringed.
Nick let out a long low groan.
I was feeling pins and needles in my left hand. Strange. I switched the syringe to my right hand.
“You’ve stalled long enough. I could say when you awaken this will all be like a bad dream, but this is one dream you won’t remember.”
Marty hung his head. “What good is it if I won’t remember anything? You might as well just kill me.”
I took a deep breath. “Wouldn’t you agree amnesia is preferable to death? Honestly, if you’d rather I can always kill you. Nick would help dispose of you with one word from me.”
Marty jerked his head up. “Please, Professor Edwards. I’ll do anything you want. I won’t tell anybody what I saw. Please just let me go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“But I don’t want to forget who I am.”
“Perhaps you won’t.”
I pressed the needle into his flesh.
Marty whimpered. “Please, God, help me.”
“Prayer might be a good idea,” I said as I reached for the plunger.
Sharp pain.
I gritted my teeth and sank to my knees.
My chest felt tight.
I hit the plunger and dropped to the floor.
I couldn’t seem to catch my breath.
“Help...me...Nick,” I gasped.
Nick moaned in rapture.
What have I done? I thought, the sound of Nick’s orgasm ringing in my ears...