Pages

Saturday, April 13, 2019

Video Study #8: Bespoke

The 3D sculpting and molding process is indeed growing by leaps and bounds. With this, you can actually get yourself a custom-designed (and sized) mask that's everything you want.

A pioneer in this area is Jeremy Gardner at Evolution Masks.

For the longest time, I've wanted to get a "Kano" mask from the movie "Mortal Kombat", but this isn't exactly a high-demand visage. The character was played by Trevor Goddard, an English actor (often mistaken for an Australian), who is best known for his role as Lt. Commander Mick Brumby on "JAG".

He's also been in a number of other roles - both on TV and movies - generally as a mercenary, or just an overall "villainous" or unsavory character. He's also played the pirate Grapple in "Pirates of the Carribean" as well as a Gothic-styled vampire in present-day Los Angeles.

Unfortunately, that shiny metal faceplate of Kano is still not quite within reach in full silicone design, but Goddard has such great facial planes, I decided to go with a custom made mask of Trevor Goddard anyway.

I also purchased Jeremy's "Chemist" mask, which was based on the main character of "Breaking Bad" - Brian Cranston. I would definitely say Evolution is probably the best vendor for actual character-based masks.

Jeremy has some amazing 3D sculptors, and after submitting a plethora of reference pics, we came up with a composite that really stood out. He also worked out how to extend the bib, which was one of the things I missed in my Studio135 "Knuckles" mask.



The mask is very well-made, with a beautiful flashing job and smoothly finished inside. Facial fit is absolutely AMAZING. Lip fitment is a solid "9" on the Silva scale, and the paintjob, texturing and hairwork (done by Jeremy) was top-notch.

Trevor is now being sold on the Evolution website as "The Soldier." Within reason, the mask can be scaled up (or down) to fit your noggin and neck size. 


I unreservedly recommend Jeremy's new masks and hope to see many more being worn!




Friday, April 5, 2019

Supermax

CHARLIE

Jamie had just finished going over the daily briefing for the precinct - what crimes were outstanding, who were the likely suspects, things to watch out for, etc. Now it was assignment time.

"Cochran and Viera - you're going to court..."

The two officers groaned.

"Shuddup." He grinned. "Part of the Job, fellas. Be your charming selves and make sure you get a conviction or you'll be on hospital duty for two weeks..."

A throat cleared in the back of the room. "Sergeant, if I may..."

Heads swiveled to see Captain Tanner Morgan leaning against the doorway, a lopsided grin on his face. He sauntered up to the front of the room and looked over at us. He was wearing a yellow shirt stretched over his muscular frame and a gold-and-green patterned tie was pulled slightly down from his open collar. He ran a hand through his thick, sable hair and brilliant emerald eyes scanned the room.

"Men, an assignment has come up with the FBI and DEA. Depending on your inclinations..." He grinned. "... it may or may not be exactly pleasant, but I do have to say that we were asked for specifically."

"I'm looking for volunteers. However, there are some very specific physical requirements that must be met. Height between five-eleven and six-one, weight between one-eighty and two-hundred..."

He paused. "... and finally, quote 'trim, ripped and muscled as fuck' unquote, but I don't think that will be an issue."

Laughs and chuckles spread throughout the room.

"Those of you that fit into this description and want to volunteer, please come to my office ASAP so I can make the determinations. Those of you not selected should come back down for your assignments. Thank you all."

* * *

Five of us wound up heading to Cap's office: myself, Micah Benchley, Cash Ingraham, Archie Brandt and Bryan Joseph. Archie and Bryan had been Transformed once more into their respective alter-egos of Donte McIntyre and Isaiah Fulton, and were doing repeat performances as convicted felons. He waved us in, and motioned us to take a seat at the conference table. He locked the door.


"Do you know who 'Oswaldo Batista' is?" He handed us each a picture of a handsome-as-hell Latino. He built like a porn star, with bulging muscles under smooth skin in all the right places; he also had a detailed inked backpiece. Dark eyes, a small razor-cut beard and a wicked smirk completed the picture.

Micah's brow furrowed. "He's that big drug kingpin that just got sentenced to life without parole, isn't he?"

I spoke up. "On a 'Rico Landry' scale of one to ten, this guy is a one-hundred-fifteen."

Donte gulped. "Shee-it..." 

"Exactly. There have been some rather disturbing indications that some of the Corrections officers at his holding facility and perhaps, some local DEA agents,  have been compromised. We've been asked to make sure he gets to his Supermax facility without incident. No one is expecting the NYPD to take this on, so we're a completely unknown quantity in the equation."

Cap continued. "We're going to run you as decoys. While you are being transported as Batista, he'll arrive at Thornwood by a completely different method."

"Thornwood? I never heard of that place, Cap. Is it new? I thought that Florence ADX was the only Supermax in the US."

Morgan shook his head. "It's a privately run institution. In fact, it's run by the same people that oversee the Molanto syndicate." He gave us a tight grin at our astonished expressions. "They have the means, motive and opportunity to make sure that sonofabitch stays put."

Cash spoke up. "But Cap, we don't look anything like this guy - how are we going to pull that off? Is Zack going to fix us up?"

"Nope - we're doing it old school this time - all of you will secured into stealth-type bodysuits to be made indistinguishable from each other. There's some other stuff that will go on as well, but that's the gist of it. You'll be out of commission between a day and a week, depending on how the transport goes."

My cock thickened and twitched at his description, and I could see that it was having the same effect on the other guys as well. Particularly Micah.

He paused and turned to the two Transformed black thugs. "I know Hawke, Benchley and Ingraham are available, but what about you two? McIntyre, don't you have a heroin delivery this week?"

Donte shook his head. "It gotz delayed, Suh. Dem muthafuckas in Thailand iz blowin' each otha up durin' summ type ov gang war. We iz waitin' fo' da dust t'settle b'fore we getz our deliv'ry. Ah cain tell you dat evry'one iz fuckin' twitchy right now..."

Isaiah's bright grin lit up his dark face. "I'm runnin' a long con, Cap. No problem fo' me t'be away fo' a week o' two..."

Bryan's original charm was magnified by Isaiah's wickedly delightful persona; this made him an amazingly effective con man that had already recovered millions of dollars from various criminals and other tricksters. Ninety percent of the funds were always returned to those cheated; the remaining ten percent was split between Zack's money-laundering contacts in the Molanto crime syndicate and the Silver Shield Foundation.

Morgan looked at his watch. "I'm scheduled to catch a flight to Nogales in an hour to meet up with Mr. Batista... the flight takes about seven hours. I want the five of you to come back here at 3pm and go thru that door..." He pointed to the door to his bathroom.

At our confused looks he smiled. "I know... I know. Just trust me on this. Everything will make sense after that happens."

* * *

At 2:55pm, the five of us went into Cap's office and walked over the the bathroom door and opened it.

Donte twisted the knob. "Well, here goez nuthin'..." and crossed the doorway. We followed...

... to find ourselves in a large airy conference room. There were multiple carafes of coffee and several trays of various pastries filling the room with mouthwatering aromas of sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate and other spices. The door we had passed through had vanished.


"What the hell...???"

Micah walked over to the the large picture windows; the tableau was that of a compact, modern glass-and-steel city with a vast desert stretching beyond it. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, creating a rosy, aureate glow into the rapidly lightening sky.


Damn, we're in the Castle... I had felt that familiar tingle of a wormhole when I passed the doorway and figured that we'd be finding out a lot more in a very short time.

At the far end of the room, there was another door. There was a quick knock and three men entered the room. Two were in snug, unmarked, black fatigues that did nothing to hide their amazingly muscular bodies. The other was outfitted in a suit of metallic black and scarlet armor that glinted evilly in the overhead lights. A familiar face smiled and stretched out his arms.

"Uncle Danny!" I ran over to him. It felt so good to be in his embrace.

The black armor was nearly hot to the touch. "Hey Tiger! I've got to go out on patrol, but I wanted to see you before I left!" He looked critically at me and lowered his voice. "You've changed... everything okay?"

I nodded. "It's a long story..."

"I've got leave coming soon... Gabi and I will come visit, and you can tell us all about it..."

He pulled on a thin, black latex mask which completely covered his face, but not his features and slipped a  respirator mask and goggles over his head. He waved as he sauntered out of the room.

The other guys were staring at one of the black-clad men with obvious confusion; whatever went on at the Castle that affected your sex drive had already taken place; all of us were already sporting massive hardons and our urge to breed was just below the redline.

"Cap? What happened to you? You buzzed your hair? How'd you get that tan?"

The other man grinned. "I'm afraid you've gotten me confused with someone else ... I'm Colonel Tyler Morgan, your CO's younger - by three minutes - and much more handsome brother... I'm the commander of this Army Ranger research facility."

He embraced me as well. "Hey Charlie - welcome back!" He stepped back and looked at me. "Jesus Christ, son... you've gotten BIG!!!"

"Thank you, Sir, Glad to be back" I continued sotto voce. "And under happier circumstances, this time..."

Cash was giving me a strange look. "Charlie, you know these guys? You knew Cap had a twin brother?"

I nodded. "It's not something he likes to advertise, so he asked me to keep quiet about it. The Colonel and his partner were at my wedding." That drew expressions of surprise from the other officers.

The other man present gave me a lopsided grin. "And what about me? What am I, chopped liver or something? And after I made sure you guys had food?" He was darkly handsome with thick wavy, black hair, a deeply burnished skin and a razor-cut stubble across his strong jawline.

I gave him a strong embrace as well. "Of course not, Sid! It's great to see you again too!"

Sid turned to the other guys with a wide smile. "Major Siddig bin Talal. Chief Medical Officer here. But just call me Sid. And yes, boys and girls, the Colonel and I are an item."

Colonel Morgan poured himself a cup of coffee and grabbed a pastry and began munching.

"Have a seat, fellas ... let me spell out what we're going to do..."

* * *
The colonel explained a bit about the Castle facility, who was there, what it did and how we had gotten from New York to Rafha in the blink of an eye.

"So, Tanner and I are running a false flag operation here. Your disguises will be more of a low-tech sort of endeavor, while transporting Batista will definitely call for more advanced resources. Once we get the five of you to Nogales via wormhole, RIG is going to transport him out and directly to his cell at Thornwood."

"Who's RIG?"
 
The other officers gasped - part in surprise, part in amazement and maybe with a little bit of horror - as the door opened to admit the android.

"Jesus Christ!"

He was just as I remembered him. Gleaming, shiny, black skin was stretched tightly over a powerfully male frame and every muscle on his body was etched with incredible definition. A snap-on pouch of the same material barely covered an obviously huge cut cock and balls. Photoreceptors glowed on his face and heavy, motocross boots covered his feet. He turned to me and his lightly accented British voice was warm with pleasure.

"Charlie!"

I rose from the table and pulled him into an embrace. He returned it with abandon and stroked his ebon hands down my back and fondled my ass as our crotches ground together. His receptors shifted to a deep blue tone and glowed brighter with pleasure as he continued to massage me. "Damn, you feel so good..."

Colonel Morgan addressed the other officers from the Four-One. "RIG is a self-aware, autonomous AI - an android. We wanted him to be as human-looking as possible to work with my Army Rangers and the other wingnuts here. Unfortunately, he also quite a horndog..."

The android gave a gentle laugh as he continued to hold me in his arms and traced gentle designs up and down and across my back as he nuzzled my neck. "And you wouldn't have me any other way, Colonel!"

It was the Colonel's turn to chuckle.

Sid stood up. "Okay guys, let's get started. Come with me for the medical prep and getting your geotrackers installed."

* * *

MICAH

We followed Sid down a couple of corridors until we got to his medical area. And like I thought, 'medical prep' involved getting an enema. Now I'll admit I enjoy getting my ass stuffed, but NOT with a hose. We got rinsed out three times; Donte and myself got some major cramping, but the upside was that we had a nice cool shower afterwards, a massage, and got wrapped in some nice fluffy white towels.

Once all of us were out and dried, Doc explained what was going to happen next.

"Okay fellas. Time for the geotrackers. These are going to let us monitor your location and pull you out via an emergency wormhole if necessary. Charlie, bend over and grab your ankles, please?"


Charlie unwrapped the towel and bent over. Sid took a small syringe from a steel tray, pinched his sac and injected the contents. He then patted his ass and he stood up.

"That was it?"

"Yep. It'll take about ten minutes for the nanotech to organize itself, and the tracker will broadcast for about a week."

"Why put it in our ballsacs?"

Sid shrugged. "It's got something to do with the wormhole - 'geodesics', I think is the term -  and the need to build a portal ASAP... having the signal slightly off from the center of gravity is better for the transferee - less headaches and nausea when they arrive at the destination."

He did the same to the rest of us and then handed out some well-padded black posing pouches. They looked like some type of UnderArmour material, except there was more of a dark shimmer to the stuff than ordinary Lycra.


"Next step may be a little uncomfortable..." He walked over to  a cabinet and took out a large jar that looked like they were filled with brightly colored jawbreakers.

"When our guys go out on extended patrols here, we use these emergency hydration packs. They can last about a week, but the downside is they expand in your mouth and you feel like you have a very tasty sock gagging you. Combined with some duct tape, this is going to make sure you can't reveal yourselves by accident by talking. I've got lemon, orange, tangerine, raspberry and I think there's a tropical punch left as well..."

He paused, "By the way, what are your boot sizes?"

"Ten and a half, Doc"
"Same here, Sir."
"Isaiah an' me takez eleven"
"Eleven here as well, Sir."

We took our pick of the packs and within a few seconds in my mouth, it began to expand. It felt less like a sock and more like a combination of jello and foam rubber; I also found that I couldn't speak. I made some muffled sounds and pointed to my mouth, raising my eyebrows in the process.

"It shrinks as it dries out, and you can always grab it and pull it out - like taffy." With that, starting with me, Doc wrapped a layer of black duct over our mouths that went all around our heads.

Next thing, Sid opened a package and shook out a formfitting black suit. It had an integrated hood, gloves and socks, and there was a zipper with two heads running down the back. It also looked way too small to fit any of us.

"This is the same material as the pouch you've got on - it's got a lot of give, and it also happens to be bulletproof. This will stop a 9mm bullet at two feet - without giving you a bruise."

"Gllggumphm..." Isaiah vocalized and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

He again motioned to Charlie to be the guinea pig. He sat down and began to pull the suit over his legs. True enough, that material had a lot of stretch. Once it was high enough, he stood up and pulled it up his torso, then slipped his hands into the sleeves and smoothed out the material over his massive arms. Sid began pulling the lower zipper over his ass and up his back.

"Head back for me, stud?" Charlie complied and the doctor slipped the mask over his face and pulled the lower zipperhead down to meet it's partner at his neck. He then threaded a plastic security lock through the two heads and fastened it. Charlie rotated his neck and turned to face us.

He looked amazing. The suit masked every feature of his face, but every muscle in his body was in perfect definition, with his cock and balls producing a gigantic, but smooth bulge at his crotch.

He caressed himself and let out an appreciative "Glwwwwww..." and then his dark hands fondled his bulging package. He turned to face us and let out a "Lllllllwwww..." Even though I couldn't see it, I was sure he was grinning from ear to ear.

I couldn't help myself; I walked over to him and stroked my hands over his shoulders and down his arms. The material felt like a combination of silk and steel. His shadow-black hands pulled me close to him so our crotches ground together as he made designs down my back and then squeezed my ass. We both grunted in happiness.

"Charlie - vision okay?" The dark figure nodded and gave two thumbs up. The rest of the guys wore shocked expressions; of course, they couldn't say anything since we were all now gagged.

"Everything will look like you're seeing through a pair of lightly tinted glasses. The material also polarizes in bright sunlight, so there'll be no need to squint. Let's get the rest of you suited up."

* * *

The two men walked down the penitentiary corridor, and despite the orange overalls and manacles, there was no doubt which one was in charge.

"What the fuck am I doing up here, Jimmy? I should be down getting ready for my transfer!" Oswaldo Batista glared at the prison guard as he shuffled along.

James Torres shook his head. "I dunno, Mr. Batista. These guys came in about an hour ago, went direct to the warden's office and next thing I know, I got told to bring you to one of the meeting rooms."

He stopped and pushed the guard against the wall. "Nothing better screw up my move to Florence, or all of you are fucking DEAD!" The guard shivered.

The two men reached the door and the corrections officer knocked before entering. Batista was surprised to see a single man in the large room; he was wearing a pale green shirt that was pulled over a powerfully muscular body and his black hair was cut short and styled. Deep green eyes surveyed the prisoner and a dark eyebrow quirked as if he was listening to a private joke. A gold shield glittered on his belt. Without volition, the drug lord felt his package begin to twitch and grow.

"You can remove those restraints, Officer Torres."

"But Sir, the regs state that a prisoner in an unsecured area..."

"Take them off NOW and leave the room. I'll buzz when I need you." The man didn't raise his voice, but he stared hard at the corrections officer and Torres flinched as if struck. He quickly removed the leg irons and handcuffs and hurried out the door. Batista ambled over to a chair and flopped down. He looked at the man in green. There was something about him - and this whole situation - that set his teeth on edge. Despite being unnerved, his cock was now hard and straining against his briefs.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"His name is Captain Tanner Morgan, NYPD. In the light of recent developments, he's been asked to supervise your transfer."

Batista jumped at the voice behind him. There hadn't been anyone else in the room. He turned to see a nightmare creature leaning against the wall; a slick black skin covered a Promethean frame and massive arms were crossed over its chest. A snap-on pouch did little to disguise the impressive endowment at its crotch. Its head was slick and black as well and it had reddish lamps where eyes would have been and a sculpted grill in place of a mouth.

"That's RIG. He's an android. I'll bet he's killed more people in the seven months since he's been activated than you have in your entire career."

The android twisted its neck from side to side and the crime lord could almost imagine a feral grin on it's blank face.

Batista's head swiveled between the two. "W-what developments?" Any bravado he had had had been extinguished, but his cock was now throbbing with desire and he feel drops of pre-cum leak out of his slit. "Fuck... what's happening to me?"

"Suborning the personnel in this facility for one..." Morgan strolled to one of the windows. "Bribing officers and DEA agents to effect your escape on your way to Florence ADX for another.."

"You're being transferred to Thornwood. It's a private institution in Nevada where your chances of escape are nil. Florence is Club Fed compared to what you'll be experiencing there for the rest of your life. We're going to use decoys for the transport to Florence and see which guards and other personnel are in on your scheme. We've already arrested the warden."

Rage swept through Batista and before he could launch an attack against Morgan, he found himself in an armlock by RIG and slammed down onto the conference room table.

Tanner walked over to the prone figure and bent down and tsked as he removed a toothbrush shiv from Batista's left sleeve. "I'll ask once. Would you like to give me the names of the top echelon in your organization voluntarily?"

Batista spat in his face and cursed him in Spanish. Morgan wiped the spittle from his face and smiled. Batista's blood turned to ice as he saw the fangs in the other man's mouth.

"RIG, would you please initiate the non-destructive memory copy? Unfortunately, we have to make sure he arrives in good physical and mental health."

"You want a bite before we start, Sir?"

Morgan shook his head. "I already had a good drink with a coffee chaser, thanks. Can't have him show up with anemia, can we?"

With that, RIG  grabbed the orange fabric and tore it off the prisoner. He then unsnapped his pouch to expose his massive member, which grew larger and harder in a heartbeat. With a single thrust, all ten inches of the artificial cock buried itself in Batista's ass.

* * *
MICAH

After we all were locked in our suits, we spent some time feeling each other up. Doc looked on in approval as the bunch of us slipped black, silky hands over equally silky black bodies; none of us knew who anyone else was, which made the experience even more erotic; I'm sure I wasn't the only one thinking that this was something we should do with the other guys at the Four-One as well.

Next came the oversuits, or "sub-suits" as Sid called them. These were (again) silky and shiny  - just regular black nylon this time - with two zippers running down from the collar to past the knees; once we put them on, we even looked more indistinguishable from each other than moments ago. Thin, black leather batting gloves came next; They were tight on our hands, but did nothing to impede the dexterity of the undersuits - the fingers on these outfits were tight - there were no visible seams and they didn't even crease when we bent our fingers.

Doc walked across the room and jiggled a device on the wall. After a moment, a bright red laser light speared straight across the vertical surface.

 "Okay guys, size eleven boots line up!"

We looked at each other and complied.

"Oswaldo Batista is six-one, six-two-and-a-half with a pair of workboots on. We're going to give you fellas boots - with lifts as needed - so you're also all the same height as well."

He moved to the first black-clad figure. "Right on the line... perfect!"

I was next. He took out a small ruler and measured the difference between the top of my head and the glowing red line. "One and a half..."

The third decoy got measured as well. He motioned to the three of us. "You guys move over there and stay in order." He motioned to the two remaining featureless decoys and measured them as well. The first one had a half-inch difference, and the last one was right on the mark, too.

A knock sounded on the door, and another soldier entered the room. He gave a low whistle and an appreciative grin at the five of us. He was pushing a cart with a number of boxes. He was in a black t-shirt and black fatigues.

"Here's the boots and restraints, Doc... damn, you guys look incredible!" He walked over to one of the size-eleven guys and ran a knuckle down the valley between his ebon pecs. "Reminds me of RIG ... only less likely to snap a rib..." With that, a black-clad hand slipped into his fatigues and massaged his crotch.

"Oh, shit...." The soldier closed his eyes in pleasure.

"Mmmmmm..." The decoy continued to knead the other man's substantial package.

A smile quirked the side of the doctor's kissable lips. "Care to help me get the lifts in and the boots on, Sean?"

"Happy to assist, Sir!"

* * *
CASH

The first thing we saw when we exited the wormhole was Batista bent over a table being raped by the black-skinned android and Cap drinking a cup of coffee. An orange prison uniform was lying in tatters on the floor. Doc had come with us, carrying the restraints in a duffle bag and the portal closed behind him. Cap raised raven eyebrows an nodded appreciatively. "Damn, Sid ... the decoys look amazing... even I can't tell who's who..."

Neither could we. Batista's eyes had been screwed shut in pain from RIG's jackhammering of his ass, but popped open in surprise when our CO started to talk.

"I thought you'd want to put the restraints on them yourself, Tanner." Sid dropped the bag onto a chair.

Tanner nodded. "Thanks."

At this point, RIG pulled out of Batista and slammed him into a chair. The drug lord struggled in the android's unbreakable grip, and RIG gave him a hard shake to quiet him down. The prisoner looked terrified as Cap walked up to him.

He gave him a feral smile. Then I noticed the fangs... did Cap really have fangs? Shit... they looked so fucking sexy on him... I had images running through my head of my CO thrusting his cock up my ass and biting my neck at the same time. My dick was hard and throbbing, but thanks to that cushioned pouch and the sub-suit, nothing showed. Then he looked straight at me - and winked. Shit...

"My last piece of advice, Oswaldo. The personnel at Thornwood are far less... how should I put this... 'picky about their food' ??... than I am... I suggest that you cooperate with them to the best of your abilities. And everyone there can tell when you're lying and when you do, they get very, VERY annoyed..."

Cap motioned to RIG. The android threw Batista over his shoulder and the two of them vanished. He turned to us. One of the fellas pointed to his mouth. "Glpghh mmm hmgghh, nnnn?"

He chuckled and pulled a dental veneer out of his mouth. "Batista has a deep phobia about vampires, so thanks to Tyler's guys, I had some fangs made and played it up to fuck with his head."

Doc unpacked the restraints from the bag. "Well, my work is done. You've got five masked Oswaldos to play with... Jeez, that sounds like a circus trapeze act..." He grinned. "We'll talk later, Tanner. All of the geotrackers are working fine and we're keeping an eagle eye on your guys until this is all over. Good luck, fellas!!"

Tanner gave the doctor a strong hug. Sid waved to us as he walked towards a corner of the room and vanished as well.

Cap then turned back to us and motioned us forward. "Put your hands out, men." Each of us got a pair of heavy-duty Clejuso hinged cuffs snapped on our wrists. "I'm locking these in front in case the guards want to add a belly chain." He then knelt down and fastened the heavy manacles of the leg irons around our boots.

"Make sure that the cuffs and irons aren't too tight or hitting you in the wrong spot. You're going to be in these for a least a day..."

We shuffled around the room. God, my cock was ready to explode. Ever since I had gotten Transformed, being cuffed or restrained was a huge turnon for me, but being like this increased the excitement by a hundredfold. We all came back to Cap for some minor adjustments.

"Everyone good?" We nodded. "Randolph? You're the designated drug lord."

The decoy next to me grunted and gave Captain Morgan a thumbs up. Shit... I thought that was Cash...

Cap hit the buzzer near the door. "Okay fellas ... showtime..."

* * * 

Torres unlocked the door and gaped in shock.

"Wha... what happened? Who are they?"

The corrections officer looked at the five featureless men cuffed and ironed before him. There was absolutely no way to distinguish between them - the tight black material across their faces hid any distinguishing features; all of them were dressed identically in loose nylon suits, with identical boots, and all of them were exactly the same height. One of them stepped forward and grunted; he was yanked back by two of the other black-clad figures.

"One of them is Oswaldo Batista, and the other four are my officers."

"But how... the room was empty except for you when I brought the prisoner in!"

Morgan smiled and Torres felt the temperature in the room drop several degrees. He put an arm around the the officer's shoulders and guided him out of the conference room. He pulled the door shut behind him and the two walked down the corridor.

"My men are very talented... if they don't want you to see or hear them, you can't. Now, I'm sure that this is going to affect the plans you had for transporting Batista - you'll need some extra men for five prisoners instead of one."

Torres looked worried. 

"And your warning about the incipient jailbreak will not go unrecognized or unrewarded. In a very discreet way, of course. There's no way that can happen now since the people involved won't know who's who."

Torres stopped and now looked in abject terror at the police captain. Despite the threats to his family, he risked everything to anonymously leak details about Batista's activities; he knew that there had been no leaks or his wife and children would have been killed. How did he know it was me?

Morgan gave him a little push. "Now, let's get this show on the road. I want to try and keep to the original timetable as close as possible. You'll find that some DEA vans will be pulling up in a few minutes to help with the transport. I've also arranged for a small plane from the ATF to help us out." He turned around. "I'll wait in the conference room for you."

* * *

"Here comes the last one, Sir" The guard handed the binoculars to Warden James Phelps.

The warden looked at the black van moving up the service road to the Supermax facility and cursed quietly under his breath. "Let's go out and meet them and find out what the fuck is going on."

* * *

The vehicle stopped at the gate, and after a short delay, it was passed through and pulled up to the main building as Phelps and his chief corrections officer strode out. One man exited the van and assisted the shackled prisoner out. His pale green shirt and snug pants did nothing to hide the powerful physique beneath them; he wore a pair of dark aviator sunglasses and his sable hair gleamed in the Colorado sunshine. Phelps grimaced at the prisoner; this one was just like the others - a tall, muscled man, booted and gloved, handcuffed with leg irons and sheathed in a tight, black undersuit that completely obliterated his identity. Another man exited the front of the van and stretched. His face was all sharp angles and his fine, thinning blonde hair shifted in the stiff breeze.

"You Morgan?" The sable-haired captain nodded. He removed his sunglasses to display piercing, emerald green eyes. Phelps shivered involuntarily under the other man's gaze.

"I want to know what the FUCK is going on here! I've gotten four other of these ... 'prisoners' showing up within a couple of hours of each other - two of them turn out to be cops and two others are felons, but not the one I'm waiting for! All I get out of them is that you'll be explaining what's going on. Is THIS Oswaldo Batista or not?"

Morgan gave him a basilisk stare. "See for yourself."

Phelps muttered and motioned his chief over to the prisoner. The officer proceeded to unshackle the anonymous captive and snip off the security lock at the back of his neck that prevented the undersuit from being removed. Gloved hands reached back and opened the zippers and pulled down the hood to display a young, dark-haired, blue-eyed man with duct tape over his mouth. He fiddled with the black tape, wincing as he removed it and then pulled what looked like taffy out of his mouth. His lips quirked into a lopsided smile within his tightly cut beard. "Hello, Sirs."

Morgan smiled back. "Say hello to Officer Micah Benchley of the NYPD."

"GOD-DAMNIT!!"

The other man cleared his throat. "I think I can clear this situa-"

"And who the fuck are you?"

The other man's face hardened and pulled a small wallet out of his breast pocket. His flipped it open and pushed it into the warden's face.

"Peter Gardner - Federal Bureau of Investigation - Director of Operations, West Coast ... that's WHO the fuck I am..." Phelps paled.

Morgan cleared his throat. "Warden, is there someplace we can speak privately about this situation?"

"Yeah, yeah... sure. Let's go to my office." The three men moved off.

The chief turned to the black-clad police officer. "C'mon, son ... your buddies are in the cafeteria."

* * *
MICAH

The guard escorting me was an older guy named Henry and we struck up a conversation as we walked along.

"Damn... I've seen inmates here that would curdle your blood, Micah, but Morgan scares the shit out of me. He doesn't seem to be the type you ever want to cross."

I smiled. "He's strict, but he's fair. He treats all of us like we're his own flesh and blood. We wouldn't have any other CO but him." 

He shook  his head. "Jeez, you guys are built..." He chuckled. "You all look like fitness models ... or porn stars. Most of the cops I know aren't in the best of shape ... even the SWAT guys have dad bodies compared to you."

I laughed. "Well, Cap expects a lot from us, and we don't want to disappoint him. That includes filling out the uniform the right way. We do several charity calendars a year for the Silver Shield Foundation. For those, most of the times we're at least half-naked, soaking wet, oiled up or some combination of the three..."

Henry's eyes bulged in amazement.

We entered the mostly empty cafeteria - the only people there were the several guards from Nogales, and the other guys from the Four-One together with the DEA agents. Donte saw me first and waved the both of us over. The other group glared daggers at me.

"What I don't get is those other two guys - they're ex-cons and they have records longer than your arm..."

"Donte and Isiah are definitely on the wrong side of law, but we can trust them. If you can, we'd appreciate it if you didn't spread that factoid around, okay? As far as anyone at Nogales thought, everyone was one of Cap's men. It took a lot for them to voluntarily walk into a prison and get shackled, not knowing if they'd be incarcerated or not, but Cap is very persuasive too. " And it was incredible to see that Zack's conditioning and artificial memories along with his mastery of computer forgery was perfect as well under real world situations outside of New York. Good to know the next time Cash and I get Transformed.

* * * 



Batista groaned as consciousness returned to the drug lord like a reluctant lover. Bleary-eyed, he pushed himself up on his elbows and looked around; he was in a sleek, bare prison cell. Naked except for an adult-sized diaper, he ached all over - a small pile of clothes were on a low shelf across from his bunk. The last thing he remembered were the five black figures appearing from nowhere as the ebon-clad monster android had him bent over the table and was fucking him to death. And the cop... with the fangs...
He jumped up and looked out through the bars, his heart pounding in his chest and his guts cramping from the sexual assault. At that moment, he heard a CLANK from the end of the hallway as a black-uniformed guard walked towards him.

The guard was a trim and well-built young man, with stylishly cut brown hair and a razor-cut stubble on his face. He gave the prisoner a faint smile.

"I'm sorry about your neck - you were bleeding pretty badly when you were brought in and I couldn't help myself. I put the diaper on so the rest of the guys wouldn't get unhinged. I already let the warden know it was me."

"Huh?"

The guard pointed to Batista's neck. He felt it, and glanced over to the wall mirror to see two puncture wounds.

The guard grinned, showing fangs. "We were short two guards today, I had my hands full and I hadn't had a chance to eat..."

Batista's screams echoed down the corridor as the guard unlocked the cell door and pushed him against the wall.

* * *
I would have been done with this story about a month earlier, but I ran into my "into the weeds" situation. At the very end, I wanted to have a conversation between Morgan, Phelps and Gardiner about the situation the warden found himself in, but I finally came to the realization that it did nothing to add to the story. I did need to have something go on for Batista, but that was much easier once I knew that he was terrified of vampires and Thornwood Penitentiary is accessible for the soldieri-in-training at the nearby Institute.

As for the inspiration for the story itself, it came from this video on YouTube; I'm not sure how I found it, but it was quite intriguing from both a scenario and a costuming point of view.

 
 

From the YouTube authors, I'm guessing that they live somewhere in Wirral, which is a county in the North-West of Great Britain.

We see an individual - deservedly or not - supposedly trapped in a zentai suit making him a non-entity, placed into another suit which further anonymizes his shape, gloved and then cuffed hand and foot. What happens next is completely up to the watcher's imagination.

While I had the most of the pieces, that outer suit (called a sub suit) was a real pain in the neck to find - mainly because "sub suit" had a completely different meaning for me (and yes, my mind WAS in the gutter!).

Of course, it's made only in the UK.

It's used in rugby to keep the players warm while they are not on the field, "sub" being short for "substitute".

Anyway, I found the suit (for an amazingly good price including shipping) at UKSportsWarehouse on eBay.

I did change up the concept slightly, using boots instead of sneakers, but I may do another shoot with a pair of black Nike Shox I found on eBay as well.

All in all, a nice change from my regular shoots - hope you enjoy!



Sunday, February 3, 2019

Thug Tales: Tony - Part II

After we got back to his apartment, Ray fished out a takeout menu and made a call. He ordered the stuff we normally got – beef with broccoli, General Tsao's chicken, lots of brown rice and egg rolls.

"You wantz summ chow fun too, bruh?" I nodded and he added that to the order. About twenty minutes later, the buzzer rang and Ray pushed the button to let the delivery guy up. We both were still nearly naked – after our fuck-fest in the alley we had just pulled our cutoffs back on – and he sauntered to the door and opened it.

"Hey Jason! You can putz dem bagz on da table…" Ray gave the delivery boy a big grin. "Lemme git summ cash… how much Ah owez you?" The young half-Asian returned the smile and came in, depositing two plastic bags on the dining room table.

"Twenty-four fifty, Mr. Johnson…"

God, he was handsome as fuck. Rangy and muscular, he was built like a dancer and his half-open white shirt and snug jeans did nothing to hide the amazing body beneath them. His hair was silky black and wavy and cut stylishly short. I got a thorough once-over, with his dark, almond eyes making a full stop at my crotch. He stepped over to me and ran his hands over my chest and down my arms.

"Mmmm…. Nice ink, mister…." He leaned down and gave my nipple a lick.

At that point, Ray came back in. He had pulled a red baseball cap backwards on his bald head. A dark hand pushed two twenties into the delivery guy's back pocket, and then pulled him around to hold his face and give him a deep kiss.

My partner winked at me. "Jason here alwayz bringz mah stuff  'cause he knowz he getz hisself an extra-speshul tip…" Jason grinned and started unbuttoning his jeans.

"Dis iz mah buddy, Tony. Lookz like you iz gonna get yo'self TWO extra-speshul tipz dis time, China-boy…" Ray pulled down his cutoffs and kicked them off. His horsecock was hard and ready for action.

Jason grinned as he continued to strip. In a moment, he was as naked as my partner. "Guess this is my lucky day, Mr. Johnson … I guess I should buy a Powerball ticket tonight, huh?? ..."

Ray grabbed Jason by the waist and hoisted him up as the Asian wrapped his legs around the dark torso and his arms around Ray's muscular neck. The two headed towards the bedroom.

The thug looked over his shoulder and motioned me to follow.

"Yeah, dat's a good idea … if'n you iz able tah walk afta we getz dunn wiff you…"



* * *

The delivery boy limped out of the apartment after we had drilled his ass several times, and we didn't even bother to get dressed to eat the takeout. After we finished most of the meal, both of us were horny as hell again and ready for some additional horsefucking.


"Letz do it on da bed..." He chuckled. " 'less'n you wantz me tah put you inna armlock an' fuck you 'gainst da wall???…"

As we were naked already we went into his bedroom and he motioned me onto the mattress. Ray fished out two pairs of handcuffs from the night table and gave me wicked white grin. He snapped one end of the cuffs onto each of my wrists.

"Put dem armz out fo' me, Tony." He straddled me and gave me a deep kiss; then he pulled my arms up and out and cuffed each one to an eyelet set in the wall above the corners of the headboard. I was now completely at his mercy. He stroked down my lats and I shivered at the touch.

"Damn…" I grinned. He definitely knew how to get me excited.

"Uh-huh…mah stable stud needz t'be fucked by hiz owner all da time tah keepz 'im in line…"  he pulled the metal plug out of my ass and proceeded to lift my legs onto his shoulders. Then he poured a jacket of lube onto his nine hard inches and plunged his thick black dick back into my guts.


Both of us were grunting with pleasure; I was hard as a rock and leaking as well while Ray continued to piston in and out of my ass. As I watched the sweat make his darkly muscled body gleam, I realized I couldn't think of him as anything but what he was now - I was being raped by a sex-hungry ghetto thug that was just pretending at being a cop and not the other way around. The black man my partner had become was more vocal, more aggressive, more daring … a real cocky, lowlife smart-ass without a shred of morals – everything I now wanted to be myself.

After a particularly deep thrust, he groaned and I felt a thick warmness fill my guts as he erupted within me. He gave me a triumphantly evil grin which fit perfectly on his dark face. " 'Chu like dis, don't you, Tony? You reelly likez gettin' yo' ass raped by a brutha now, huh?" He pulled out and straddled me again, running his hands over my arms and grasping my shackled hands in his own. He bent down and gave me a hard, possessive kiss. "An' Ah luvz havin' you nekkid an' cuff'd unnerneath me ... jus' where you oughtta be all da time..."

"Shitchyeah, Ray. It's amazing. Being tied up and fucked by a black street thug like you is incredible."

He gave a deep chuckle and kissed me again. "Glad it getz you excitable, white-boy..." He slid down my body and gave my aching prong a lick. " ... 'Cause you iz gonna be gettin' LOADS ov brutha's spunk up dat sweet ass ov yo's to-nite!"

"WHAAAT??!!"

With that, he swallowed my shaft and began to suck.

* * *

I think I may have passed out for a minute or two – after I exploded down his throat, my vision went black, and the next thing I knew, the Nubian thug was removing the cuffs.

"Letz get you reddy fo' da Greasetank, stud. Like I sed, we gotz tah keep da fact dat you iz a cop on da down-low an' make sure dat no one cain figure out who you really iz…"

He reached out a dark hand and helped pull me off the bed. As I stood, I felt some of his spunk leak out of my ass and dribble down my leg.

Ray loped over to the dresser and came back shaking a small spraycan. "Zack sed dis stuff covers up tats. Sed it makez 'em completely in-visible. Lemme clean you off firs' wiff summ alcohol."

The Nubian thug left the bedroom and returned with a bottle of isopropyl and a roll of paper towels. He proceeded to wipe down my arms and chest with the stuff and I got a bit dizzy from the fumes as it evaporated. I sat down heavily on the bed.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just a little light-headed…"

"Letz see how dis works…" He popped the cap off and proceeded to lightly spray the skull on my pec with a zigzag motion until it was completely covered. It smelled even worse than the alcohol.


I looked down. "Ray, this stuff is fucking PINK!!!" I couldn't believe it. I was pissed. I had this shiny, easter-bunny pink splotch on my chest. "I look like I was on the losing end of a paintball fight!"

"Dayumm…" He shook his head. "Zack sed ta give it 'bout ten minnits ta dry off – if'n dat shit still looks dis bad, Ah gotz da solvent he sed tah cleanz it off wiff…"

I was still muttering under my breath as I went back into the living room to get my bag of leathers. When I came back into the bedroom, Ray's brown-black eyes grew wide.

"Shee-it!! Tony look at yo' chest!" I went over to the mirror and my mouth dropped open in shock; my tat was gone. In its place was a smooth expanse of unbroken skin that was the exact shade as the rest of my chest – as I watched, a tiny spot of pink – right in the middle – faded and disappeared. I felt my other pec and then the one that had had the ink – they felt exactly the same – I rubbed my left pec HARD with my fingers – nothing came off and my fingers were completely clean.

"Jesus…" This was amazing.

Ray shook the spraycan again. "Lemme do yo' arms, stud…"

* * *

Half an hour later, the spray had completed it work – there was not a spot of ink visible on my chest or arms. It was more than a bit disorienting to not see the extensive ink that had been part of my Initiation into the Four-One any longer.

I had slipped the harness over my chest and had pulled on a leather jock with a snap-on pouch. Even semi-hard, my junk made an obscene bulge thanks in part to the steel prison still locked around my cock and balls.

I had strapped some heavy leather gauntlets around my wrists (and forearms) as well – they had three buckles each, and the thick steel D-rings glittered in the light. I grinned as I adjusted the items of my equipage in the mirror. Damn, I look good in leather... I wish I could wear it 24/7... I was just about finished tying my Corcorans when Ray came back into the room.

He was similarly kitted out – a full leather harness stretched itself over his massive chocolate-colored torso, with a strap disappearing down into a fully packed leather pouch - and his ladder-laced paratrooper boots gleamed with a fresh shine. He was holding a piece of black leather in his hand and shook it out to display a full over-the-head mask with a zipper and laces.

His thick lips quirked into a sly grin. "Letz make sure dis fitz you good … 'member, you iz mah stable stud to-nite – you da one dat makez sure dat alla my white-boys knowz how to make d'eir Nubian masta happy…"

He slipped it over my head. The hood was made of perforated, glove-soft leather – just like a high-end racing suit. My field of vision was completely unchanged; sight itself was a little dimmer than normal, but it was okay; the mask had grommeted openings for my nostrils and a black zippered opening for my mouth.

"Feelz good, Tony?" Ray smoothed the hair on the back of my head and pulled the zipper down. The mask suddenly grew tighter. He gave the back of my neck a kiss.

"Yes Sir. Thank you Sir." I'd better get used to addressing him that way for tonight.

He chuckled. "Dis iz like da mask Ah wore at mah 'Nitiation…" I remembered that mask. It had molded to his face and had looked so incredibly HOT on a ripped and shredded guy wearing just leather straps and boots. "Only da best fo' mah numba-one slave."

Ray started to tighten the laces. I could feel him stretching the kangaroo leather cord through the eyelets and giving each horizontal pair a tug as he proceeded downwards. The leather was now tightly against my face, and surprisingly, I found that I could now see even better. The mask tightened further around my neck, and I felt my master make a knot and tuck the laces up into the mask. Then he was fiddling with the back and I heard a SNICK.

"Ah lock'd da last pair ov eyelets t'gether so's no one cain take dat offa you 'cept me…"

This was followed by a three-inch leather collar which he wrapped around my neck and locked as well. My partner then zipped up my mouth opening and locked it too.

To finish off, Ray wrapped a thick steel chain around my neck and fastened it with a Master lock. He nodded in appreciation.

"Now, bend ovva an' grab yo' ankles…"

I felt him push something heavy into my ass. It was a metal plug, but it wasn't as big as the first one in the alley. He gave it a tug to make sure it was settled into my guts and was tight against my pucker, then he did something to it. At once, I felt it grow larger and larger inside of me. Then I heard a CLICK as its growth stopped. He slapped my ass for me to straighten up.

I grunted as a cramp passed through my guts.

"What'd you put up my ass, Ray?" My voice was muffled as I reached around to feel a smooth, curved metal plate covering my hole with some rougher metal and a shallow hole right in the middle.


"Expandin' ass lock. Once Ah putz it in, it openz it up an' lockz in place. Cain't cumm out wiffout unlockin' it, an' Ah'm da only one wiff yo' keys."

He proceeded to thread that key onto a chain along with its mates for my mask and collar and slipped it over his head.

Then he handed me a pair of black patrol gloves and I slipped them on. They were so so tight the impressions of my nails dimpled the leather.

"Takez a look at yo'self, boy..."

I turned around to look in the mirror and stared in awe. It was a shock to see myself without ink, and the tight hood, collar and chain around my neck  - all locked and unable to be removed - presented a completely different – but no less sexually intimidating – image than before. I was truly Ray's property now – and I loved it. I ran my gloved hands over my body and my cock thickened in pleasure, making the snap-on pouch bulge to near bursting.

"You iz one FINE lookin' stable stud slave, Tony … a reel intimidatin' muthafucka. Letz get summ clothes on so's we don' git arrested on da way to da Greasetank."

* * *

RAY

Tony and I pulled on some warmup pants and windbreakers and headed out. I loved the appalled looks we were getting both on the street and on the subway: a ripped and shredded mean-as-fuck black thug fondling a huge muscular guy in an eyeless leather mask – I could tell my partner was enjoying it as well as our two crotches ground against each other as his hands massaged my ass. In our own ways. we were both completely incognito and we took advantage of that situation all the way to the Greasetank.

"Wat da fuq 'chu lookin' at, huh?" I shouted at the people in the subway car. "Dis is mah piece of meat an' Ah cain do wat Ah wantz wiff it!"


After about forty-five minutes, we got off of the train and began walking towards the sex club. We stripped off our jackets and once we got on line, the two of us – Tony in particular - received some amazingly appreciative glances.

"Who's the gimp, Ray?"

"Duz he LOOK like a fuckin' gimp, Dennis? Dis iz my stable stud. Trainz all my white boyz t'be reddy fo' deir reg'lar fuckin' an' fistin' …" Tony definitely looked the part with his promethean frame highlighted by the leather strapping and his muscles rippling beneath his skin.

"He got a name?"

"Not no mo' … you gotta a name, white boy?" I stroked his sweaty back and Tony shivered.

"No Sir." His voice was well muffled. "I'm my master's personal fuck machine." Another benefit of that mask… no one could recognize his voice, either.

"Well, shit…" Dennis' eyebrows rose in appreciation.

The line moved rapidly, and soon we were in the club. The two of us went into the changing room and we quickly removed the track pants and put the rest of our clothing (including his pouch) into a locker. I opened the zipper over Tony's mouth and refastened the lock onto one of the pulls as we headed into the club proper. My partner's featureless black face looked around in amazement.

 "Dis yo' firs' time?"

He nodded. He put his hooded face close to my ear to be heard over the music. "Sarge wouldn't let me come here without him."

I looked around the venue – there was plenty of meat for both of us tonight.

"Letz fin' you summ Breedin' stock…"

* * *

TONY

Ray clipped a leash onto my collar and we moved deeper in the club. My cock was painfully hard and leaking as I watched the goings-on about me and with every step, the expanded plug in my ass ground against my prostate, giving me a constant buzz of pleasure. I was grateful for the featureless leather mask - I was guiltily enjoying the sights and I was completely anonymous as my partner's property.

He was a good as his word – in no time, I had this cute Latino – dressed in jeans with his plaid shirt tied around his waist – stripped naked, locked onto a padded sawhorse and was fucking him senseless. The guy was crying out as he was being penetrated, and his cries only served to amp my thrusts in and out of his ass. My vision dimmed at the edges, and I exploded within him. Ray gave my chain a jerk and I pulled out, stepping to the side. He gave the mocha ass that was dribbling lube and cum a thoughtful look and then rammed his fist into the waiting hole.

The twenty-something screamed as Ray's fist, then forearm, vanished into his guts. My partner widened his stance and began grinding his arm deeper into the captive beneath him. He kept at it and managed to get his nineteen-inch bicep into the Latino beneath him before he passed out. Then he pulled out and started again.

Ray finally finished and was wiping off his arm with paper towels; the figure sprawled over the sawhorse was whimpering in Spanish.

He patted my ass; "Nice work, white boy."

"Thank you, Sir." I stood at parade rest.

I realized that we had had company. A bunch of guys were around us and had been enjoying the spectacle we had provided.

Two were heavily muscled black thugs wearing only cutoff jeans and workboots; another was a big Dominican with a sinfully evil smirk and the final member was a mean-looking brawny white guy in tight racing leathers with his cock and balls encased in rubber and jutting out - ready for action.


"That is one fine-looking side of beef, Ray. Anyone we know?" The blatino grinned and stroked my chest.

Ray smiled back. "Dis iz mah stable stud, Tavi. He gets mah white boyz in da right headspace… an' butt-space… fo' bein' owned. Also beatz da shit outta 'em when dey misbehave..."

"Well, Ah hopez we cain sample dat fine ass ov hiz later…" One of the black guys stroked my back and fondled the large piece of metal covering my pucker and gave a hiss of exasperation. "Jeez, Ray – you an' ass lockz…"

My owner chuckled. "Ah tol' you, Kevin… since you needz permission t'get inta mah hole o' any holez dat belong tah me, dey stay closed to da public…"

The guy in racing leathers spoke up, slowly stroking his cock with a leathered hand. "How is he with tops?" Shit, I'd love to get that giant rubber cock up my ass...


Ray gave him an evil smile. "You volunteerin', Chris? He'd break you in haff..."

The biker shook his head. He scanned the room and then pointed to a powerfully muscled leatherman that was currently fucking another well-built guy cuffed and strung up to a large pipe running across the ceiling.

"No, that one."

My master turned to me and unclipped the leash. "Go an' soften 'im up fo' me, stud."

I cracked my knuckles through the thin patrol gloves. "Yessir!"

* * *
I walked across the floor and stopped about thirty feet away from the other two men. Despite the fact that for all intents and purposes I appeared to be Ray's slave (or maybe because of it), I was given a wide berth by both tops and bottoms alike. My subject had stopped fucking the guy in chains and was currently stroking a gloved hand down his powerfully muscled back. At that point, I saw that the chained guy was bleeding from some very deep, very nasty-looking lashes in his back.

I also realized that the gloved guy was wearing a sidearm and holding a whip. He pulled out a Red and lit it, surveying his work.

"Hmmm... I don't think you've learned your lesson yet, mate..." He had an Australian accent. The bottom of the whip shifted on the floor, looking like a snake ready to strike.

"P-please Sir ... no more, I can't take no m-more..." The chained guy was sobbing.

The whip wielder tsked. "Rubbish. I've only just started on you, luv... You'd be amazed at how much pain a bloke can take... and next time, when you're told to pull your head in, you will..." He pulled his arm back to strike again, and that's when I stepped in.

I grabbed the end of the whip and yanked. He was so surprised that the handle jerked right out of his hand. He was even more surprised when he turned around to see a faceless leatherslave toss the whip away, grab his arm, twist it around his back and lock it painfully behind him in an unbreakable grip. Then I frogmarched him back to Ray and his buddies.

* * *
RAY

Otis whistled as he watched Tony's takedown of the leatherman with the whip. The black man gave me a impressed, but suspicious look.

"Dayumm, he good. He a cop?"

Shit. Think quick. It would be disastrous if anyone here, particularly the Resnikov brothers, found out that cops were regular customers.

"Nope. Speshul Forces. Mah boy got let go afta two tours in Afghanistan. Hiz haid got all fuck'd up  - PTSD o' summ shit - stripp'd hisself nekkid an' beat a guy ta death."

Tony and his captive arrived. The other guy was squirming and cursing a blue streak;  Tony tightened his armlock. His curses turned to screams of agony.

"You don't fucking talk like that in front of my Master! Understand?"

Tony shook the leatherman like a rag doll.

"Sorry, mate. Sorry... Aaauuughhhh!!!" The captive was sobbing now.

I motioned to my property for the night. "Let 'im go, white boy." Tony hesitated.

"Ah sed… Let 'im GO!" I gave him an open-handed slap across the leather of his mask.

"Yes Sir, Sorry Sir." Tony released him and the man stumbled in front of us. I hooked a leg and he crashed to floor.

Then I booted him in ribs. I grinned as I watched him curl up in pain and kicked him again. And again.

Otis and Kevin each grabbed an arm and hauled him to his feet. "Ah think dis sumbitch needz sling time fo' summ attitude a'justment…" The topman yelled as Tavi proceeded to strip him naked and the three of them locked him in a nearby sling. Then I tossed Tony a bottle of lube and told him to fuck him senseless.

 My slave proceeded to rape the leatherman with violent enthusiasm. I patted a massive shoulder. "An' don' stop breedin' dat muthafucka till you cummz at leas' twice."

"Yessir."

A much larger crowd gathered to watch. Obviously, this was not a well-liked customer at the Greasetank and many were cheering at his comeuppance. I gave my buddies a knowing grin as his sobbing was replaced now with groans of pleasure from Tony's attack on his ass.

I grabbed his stubbled lantern jaw. "You ain't no reel Top, you l'il bitch." I slapped his face. Tony finished and pulled out, standing to the side, his cock dripping with cum and lube. I grabbed the bottle of Gun Oil and coated my arm and hand, closed my fist and punch-fucked my forearm into his ass.

His shrieks even drowned out the music. He continued to scream as I twisted my arm within his guts.

"Who yo' masta?" Tony gave him a quick jab to the face.  No answer. He punched him even harder. Blood starting running out of his nose.

"Who. Be. Yo'. Fuckin'. Masta??" 

He took a shuddering breath... "You…"

"You… wat, muthafucka?"

"You... Sir!!"

A satisfied smile creased my face. I poured more lube onto my arm and turned to Tavi.

"Make sure mah boy here gits summ mo' muscle-puppies tah breed, bruh? Ah gotz t'finish up here an' den Ah think dat Chris wantz t'sample da goodz...??"

Chris gave an evil chuckle as Tavi and Tony walked away and I began to force the rest of my arm up his ass.

* * *
TONY

Tavi was an excellent host - I was brought into a playroom and before long I had a young inked and bearded stud strapped over a padded sawhorse to be Bred. I raped him mercilessly and his cries only served to amp my enjoyment of his situation; Ray's buddy brought in five more before I was finally milked dry. After the third one, my Master joined me and before each puppy was released, the Nubian thug either fucked or fisted them as well.


"You havin' a good time, white boy?" He was cleaning off his muscular arm of the jacket of lube, mucus and blood from our final puppy.

My eyeless face turned to him "This place is amazing, Ray! I can get away with anything here! The guys here are hot as fuck, too…"

Suddenly, I found myself grabbed on either side by Otis and Kevin, the two huge black men that had forced the whip guy into the sling and was immobilized in their grip.

"Glad tah hear dat, boy – since you gonna be da main attraction afta we getz you reddy…"

I stumbled along as I was brought to very small cell where my wrists were locked to the walls with two pair of heavy-duty handcuffs.

"Ray! What the fuck are you…" A thick, penis-shaped gag was shoved in my mouth. Ray quickly zipped the opening shut and locked it once more.  I continued struggling and grunting at the black men smirking at me and my imprisonment.


My partner winked to the other thugs. "He knowz he be my speshul slave, but ev'ry few monthz he needz sumpthin' t'remind him he still iz mah prop'ety…"

Ray disappeared behind me and I felt him doing something to the plug embedded in my ass. Suddenly I felt a jolting electric shock through my body.

"Glurrrggpphhhhh!!!"

Ray moved in front of me and grinned. "You needz some 'lectro tah getz you calmed down. Ah'll be back inna few hours…"

I screamed and arched my back as another jolt ran through me. Ray sauntered out of the cell and pulled the iron-barred door shut with a heavy CLANG.


"Hav fun, white boy!"

* * *

Tony kept pulling at restraints with no success. Shocks – different types - and at different intervals -  ripped through his muscular body. No two were the same in terms of frequency or power, either. Eventually, the leathered slave passed out - his body stood limp and twitched as voltage surged through the metallic intruder embedded in his chute.

* * *

Consciousness returned like an engine sputtering on fumes. I woke up to find myself flat on the floor with Ray's boot on my chest and my arms locked behind my back. I struggled to get up, but my Master's boot pushed me flat on the floor.


"Get 'im in da sling." Otis and Kevin pulled me up and removed the cuffs then proceeded to lock my wrists and ankles into a sling. I struggled and grunted to free myself. But as with my time in the cell, the restraints were too strong to escape. Nevertheless, I continued to writhe until Ray's dark hand grabbed my balls and squeezed. My featureless face looked over in panic to see his angry mien.

"Stop dat shit NOW, boy..." I quieted down as the black man's hand squeezed harder, then released. He then snapped the pouch over my package once again.

At that point, I realized the room was full and a loud murmur filled the air. Ray let loose a piercing whistle which quieted down the men present; I turned my head to see at least twenty heavily-muscled leathermen - black, brown and white. All were grinning. Waiting. With a shock, I also recognized several officers from the Four-One. Without my ink, I wasn't ME - I was just another piece of meat to them to be as violently abused as they wanted, with no repercussions whatsoever.

"Who wantz ta fuck mah stable stud? Two yards a pop… step up! Step  up!"

I watched as a huge muscle-brutha approached Ray and handed him a wad of bills. His dark, semi-hard horsecock was easily ten inches long and at least three in diameter. My master counted them off and smiled, then motioned the would-be rapist to proceed. But then he put an open hand on the massive chest.

"Now, dis ain't jus' ANY bottum boi tah plow… mah stud needz t'be fuck'd hard an' ruff an' deep ... but if'n you damage mah prop'ety, you gonna get zapped…"

Ray pulled out a taser wand and jabbed it between dark pecs of other black man.

"OW!!" The thug stumbled back and landed on his ass. He rubbed the spot with a wounded look on his face.

"Unnerstand?"

The hulking black man nodded, and Ray put out a hand to help him up. Then he gave him bottle of lube.

The dark-skinned thug covered his prong with a thick jacket of the oily liquid, grabbed my thighs, and shoved himself in.

I was violently raped repeatedly over the course of several hours. Most were black men, some were latinos, and even one or two were the boys I bred previously that evening. Some got tasered when Ray felt they were 'messin' hiz prop'ety' and I felt the electric shock thru the guy's cock in my ass. All of the officers from the Four-One had participated as well... some more than once.

Finally, it was over. Ray held up his hand. "Okay, dat's enuff. Lemme get mah boy clean'd up."

After some grumbling, the room cleared. My ass ached and continued to dribble cum onto a growing puddle on floor. Ray hummed happily to himself as riffled through a huge stack of bills and then tucked them into his jock. With weary eyes, I watched as my master reinserted the ass lock and expanded it in place. Finally, the dark-skinned thug unlocked the mouth zipper and removed the penis gag.

I licked my lips and coughed. "Jesus Christ…"

Ray grinned at his property. "Y'know, Tony, itz so sexy seein' a bound up, faceless white boy in nuthin' but leathers an' a giant plug wiff cum drippin' outta hiz ass…"

I coughed again and he kissed me.


"You wuz a big success to-nite, Tony. We made ovva eight thousan' dollas!"

"Wha- what…huh??"

"You ain't deaf... Yo' ass made uz Ovva. Eight. Thousan'. Dollas." Ray proceeded to unlock me from sling and helped me stand.

"You hadda good time?"

I nodded. "I feel like my asshole is the size of the Lincoln Tunnel..."

"Prob'ly iz. You hadz mo' guyz fuckin' yo' ass to-nite d'an all da guyz at las' tree 'Nitiations put t'getha… an' nunn ov dem wuz holdin' back nuthin' ..."

"Goddamn, I'm so sore. I don't think I can even walk." My legs felt like jelly and I could feel a river of cum dribbling down my sweaty legs.

Ray kissed me again. "Ah gotz us a room to relax. We can rest up an' then we cain go back home. You gonna feel betta once you inna nice soft bed wiff mah mouff  'round yo' cock an' later, mah dick up yo' ass agin..."



The Nubian thug wrapped my powerful arm around his dark shoulder and helped me limp towards the open cell door. "Seez wat you can do as a Nubian, bruh? You gonna axe Sarge tah let you becumm a brutha now, right?"

The eyeless leathered face turned to him and a tired grin was seen within the leather. "Oh hell yeah…after tonight, I've got to become a black man!"

* * * 
I had a dream about the first part of this story, "Thug Tales: Tony" continuing the escapades that night in which Ray-Ray brought his partner to the Greasetank. I don't remember what the dream actually entailed, but it was enough to get to start thinking. There DID seem to be a gap between that first story, and when Tony actually became a muscle-brutha and I felt that was something that I should remedy.

The more I write about him, the more intriguing Tony McLaren becomes. There are hidden depths to both him and Charlie, but in Tony's case, there definitely seems to be a bit more innocence around this rookie cop than his partner. 

In this story, we also see the moral descent of Charlie (or Ray-Ray) accelerating. There is no consideration given to the casual rape of anyone here, and there is no hesitation in torturing his own partner and charging for his repeated violation at the sex club by anyone with the money to spend.