The cock bois

by CockTFBoi

When Colin gets a text from a blocked number he is drawn into an adventure to uncover a conspiracy and find his boyfriend.

Added: 20 Mar 2021 Updated: 10 Apr 2021 6,744 words 1,654 views 5.0 stars (1 vote)

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M
My phone’s alarm went off, the stupid little tune irritating me into waking up. I fumble in the dark for the phone and pull it up to my face and shut the alarm off. I fumble for my glasses and pull them on and unlock my phone. I spend the next several minutes idly looking through my social media feeds, letting myself wake up slowly as I mindlessly look at pictures and memes. “Okay Nick, time to get going,” I say out loud to myself.

I drag myself out of bed and stagger to the bathroom. I squint against the sudden light as I flip the switch. The dark circles under my eyes giving away my lack of sleep from the night before. I take a few moments to look over my body. I still had a decently muscular chest, though my abs were not longer visible as I had neglected working out over the last few months. I used to focus on working out all the time, but these days I just couldn’t motivate myself to do any of that.

I pause as my eyes catch on the pair of toothbrushes in the holder on the counter. I still hadn’t brought myself to toss his stuff. Mark had disappeared nearly three months ago. For a while I had held out hope of him coming back or even just reaching out to get his stuff, but there was nothing. Since then rumors had been flying through the gay community in the city of guys disappearing. The police didn’t bother to investigate. Whether that was due to malice or not, I couldn’t tell.

I finish getting ready for the day and pad over to my kitchen in my briefs to put some food in me. I started the coffee machine up to brew some of that dark life-giving substance. While the coffee maker started going through its usual round of gurgles and spurts, I turned to the fridge and stared blankly into its depths wondering what to eat. There weren’t many options, so I settled for some leftover pizza from the night before. I threw a couple slices in the microwave and busied myself on my phone while the miracles of modern technology whirred around me.

A few minutes later I push myself off the counter I had been leaning against and pull out a coffee mug with “Give me Coffee or Give me Death” emblazoned across the side. I pour my coffee into the coffee mug, and bring it up to my nose, taking a deep whiff of the heavenly aroma before taking a small sip of the still too-hot coffee. The microwave beeps and I set my phone on the counter to grab my food. While my back is turned I hear the chirp of my text message alert.

I set my plate down on the counter and check my phone. It was a text from an unknown number that said “I found him” with an image attached. I unlock my phone and looking at the picture makes my blood go cold. The picture is of Mark in a dark club, he’s on his knees wearing a black leather jockstrap, a heavy metal collar is locked around his neck with a large padlock, and a chain goes from the collar to a slender hand. The owner of the hand is barely in the picture, but I can see a slim leg, a set of flat twinky abs, and a prominent bulge in their dark pants. I’d been to leather clubs before, but this one seemed a bit different. The vibe of the picture seemed darker, and Mark looked out of it, a long strand of drool hanging from his mouth.

After I recover from the initial shock, I send a quick response saying, “Where did you find him?”

A few painful seconds go by before the reply comes. “Dark Eagle Club. He wasn’t there by choice.”

I respond, “How can I get him back?”

A longer wait this time. It drags on, but the little dots on my screen keep me hopeful. My breath catches each time they stop. Finally, the mysterious person responds “Something more is going on. Meet me at the Buckstars on 3rd Street in two hours. We can talk there.”

I shoot back another text. “Who are you?” However, no reply comes.

I take another sip of my coffee and wince, it tastes bitter to me now; the whole interaction having soured my mood. I drink it anyways, as I need the caffeine, but the foul taste doesn’t go away. I toss the uneaten slices of pizza into the trash, my appetite completely gone now. Is that what happened to Mark? Someone kidnapped him and turned him into their sex slave? A mix of emotions flow through me, but mostly a growing rage at those that took him from me.

The Buckstars wasn’t far, I could walk there easily enough. I throw on a pair of jeans and pull on my socks. I reached for my shirt but stopped short. It suddenly occurred to me that I don’t know who this person even is. For all I know, this could be a trap and I would find myself taken just like Mark. I need some sort of protection. I don’t have a gun, but I know Mark kept some knives and swords and stuff in the closet. I walk over to the closet and find them stacked in the corner. I pull out a large pocketknife with a simple handle with dark wood on it. It looks big enough that I might be able to scare someone off, but I know I wouldn’t really be able to use it in a fight.

I walk over to the dresser and pull out a green shirt. Mark always said the green brought out the blue in my eyes. I pull the shirt on and check the mirror. I run my fingers through my hair to fix It. I see one of the necklaces that Mark had laying on top of the dresser. A small shiny black medallion with a rune carved into it, hanging from a strip of black leather. As an impulse, I grab it and pull it on, letting the medallion hang down between my pecs.

I grab my jacket and head out into the brisk weather. The sky is overcast with a chill wind blowing between the buildings, and the dark clouds threaten to unleash a downpour. I move quickly and make it to the Buckstars 45 minutes early. I wait across the street from the shop, checking the place over for anything that might point to trouble. I find a place to sit down and keep an eye on the coffee shop.

Everything seems normal at the shop, and none of the people around seem suspicious. I let out a tense breath. I don’t know what I really expected. This guy is unlikely to be dressed like some cartoon villain. It is a public place, so it would be harder for him to take me here. Just need to stay alert when I leave here. I head across the street into the coffee shop and order a large coffee. I keep my phone in my pocket and keep my head on a swivel, keeping an eye on the other people in the shop while I wait for my coffee.

After a couple minutes they call out my name, and I pick up the coffee from the counter. I go find an empty table in the corner, away from the doors and windows, and take a seat where I can keep an eye on the whole room easily. I know I’m being paranoid, but I don’t know this guy and if he’s involved in Mark’s disappearance, I want to have the best chance of getting away. An middle-aged guy with a trench coat walks in and heads to the counter and places his order. His eyes are darting around, and he’s looking around nervously. I keep a close eye on him as he waits for his coffee.

“Hi Nick,” I hear and turn to look at a guy as he sits down in the chair across from me. He looks like he’s in his mid-twenties, though he’s very sim. His lithe body is scantily clad, wearing a thin grey tank top, a pair of very short red shorts, and a pair of black roller blades. His outfit stands out considering the chill weather, but he seems unperturbed. “Glad you could make it.”

I’m a bit taken aback by his appearance; he was certainly not what I was imagining. “Ummm, are… are you…”

He nods. “Yes, I’m the guy who texted you a couple hours ago. Probably not what you expected, but it’s what keeps me safe. You can call me Brad. The guy who took your boyfriend is very dangerous, and I have to keep on the move.”

My eyes dart towards his rollerblades and arch my eyebrow at him.

He laughs. “Yeah, those help too.”

“So where is Mark?” I ask directly.

Brad’s face turns serious and he says, “So, your… well, Mark, was taken by a man named Edward Woods. I know he has been taking a lot of guys, and they are usually never seen again. I’ve been tracking the missing persons reports and linking them up and trying to connect them to him. Mark is the first one that I’d been able to spot after they disappeared. My boyfriend and I had been tracking them after his friend disappeared. He took what we had to the police, but,” he pauses, his eyes tearing up a little. “He took the stuff to the police station, I watched him walk into the building, and that was the last I saw him. The police pretended they had never seen him.”

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, realizing that whatever is going on is much bigger than I thought. I had hoped that if this guy had information, I could just take it to the police. But this sounded like they were involved somehow, or at the very least being paid to look the other way.

Brad continued speaking, “I know this is a lot to drop on you all at once. You probably don’t believe me, I know nobody else has. I’m hoping that you’ll believe me, and maybe be able to help me.”

“Help you? How? This seems all so big; how could I help you with anything?” I say while quietly feeling anxious about the whole issue.

“Well, after the party where I saw Mark, I managed to follow Edward to an old warehouse.” Brad’s voice starts to pick up, speaking faster and faster. It seems like one part of anxious energy with one part excitement. “He didn’t have Mark with him at the time, but I followed him in and saw him drive off in a car with an extra person in the car with him. I think that you and I can slip in there and get some evidence against him. Something concrete that he won’t be able to bribe his way out of. Take it to the news and anywhere else we can and force the police to confront him.”

“Do you think that will work? If he has the police in his pocket, he might have bought off the news too.”

“I know, but I need to find Jason. I can’t…” He pauses and gathers himself before continuing, “we need to find our loved ones, and we need to stop this guy. I think if we can get the proof and get it out, we can force someone to do something about it.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “All right fine, we get in there and get some evidence and then we get out. We can’t help anyone if they disappear us too.”

“You’re right. First trip we just take a look, nothing crazy. Here, meet me at this location,” he says as he slides a folded piece of paper across the table, “tonight at 8. We’ll head out from there.” He gets up, and deftly glides out of the coffee shop and down the street.

I take another sip of my coffee. It has gone cold, but the bitterness seems almost soothing to my mood. It’s a chance to find Mark, and all it may cost me is my freedom.
My thoughts are racing as I walk back home, imagining what it will be like to have Mark back; to see him again, hold his body against mine, to taste his cock again. Despite the strangeness of the meeting with Brad, my libido was certainly not willing to stay quiet. I used to constantly be horny, it seemed. Mark and I would fuck and suck each other several times a day, sometimes having marathon rounds of fucking. Since Mark left, no, since Mark was taken, I hadn’t been in the mood for much; just the occasional perfunctory jack off session to release some tension.

Now that the thought of having Mark back was in my head, my cock decided to get back into its normal groove. I could feel my 6-inch cock expanding in my briefs, stretching and rubbing against the material as I continue my walk along the dreary streets. The coarse fabric rubs against the head of my cock and I have to close my eyes briefly to get myself back under control. I can feel my cock throb and a heavy drop of precum soak into the fabric of my briefs. I hurry back to my apartment, adopting an awkward gait to try to reduce the friction a bit. The thought of someone noticing my hardon tenting my jeans simultaneously fills me with embarrassment and causes a pulsing need to grow in my loins making my cock feel even harder.

I make it back into my apartment and kick the door closed behind me. I toss my bag down on the floor and vault over the back of the couch. I practically tear at my belt and zipper until I can wiggle my hand into my briefs and take a grasp of my cock. The heat coming off it is intense as the meaty piece of flesh throbs in my hand, and my precum coats the palm of my hand as I give it a few quick rubs. My other hand pushes my shirt up, exposing my hairy stomach until it reaches my nipples. I give my nipples a few tweaks as I use my other hand to pull my cock free of my pants.

My 6 incher throbs and a musky bead of precum glistens at the tip. My hand slides up the shaft until my fingers can reach the head, then I twist my wrist letting my fingers gently smear the precum around the head, before sliding them back down the shaft. I start getting into a rhythm, letting my hand glide smoothly up and down my cock. I twist my hand on the upstroke, giving extra attention to the head and letting my head lean back against the back of the couch.

I close my eyes, and let my mind drift a bit. I start picturing Mark’s body. His tan, lithe body, his dark body hair, thick across his chest and abs, his trimmed bush sitting above his heavy cock. In my imagination he grabs his cock and gives me a cocky grin as he starts stroking his 10-inch schlong. Just picturing that huge cock, makes my mouth water and I feel the urge to fall to my knees and deepthroat it. I pick up the pace on my stroking, relishing in the sensations running up my spine. My cock is throbbing and I’m leaking precum like a faucet.

In my head I’m down on my knees, looking up at Mark’s face, his bright green eyes giving me a lustful gaze. I shift closer to him, running my hands up his hairy legs and tracing my fingertips along his tan lines. My fingers encircle the base of his cock, while I lean forward and take the heavy head into my mouth. I can practically taste his musky sweat on my tongue as his cock slides into my hot mouth. As I stroke my cock, I let my jaw relax and my mouth hang open as I imagine Mark’s dick sliding deeper and deeper into my mouth. I can practically feel his girth stretching my throat wide, his hands running through my hair. His fingers grip the back of my head and pull my face forward, feeding inch after inch of his thick dick into my throat.

He starts slamming his cock into my mouth, abusing my throat. In my fantasy I’m gagging on his dick, hearing his moans and gasps as he uses me to pleasure his cock. I’m moaning louder and louder, not even caring if the neighbors here me. It feels so good, even if it’s just a fantasy, it is the most intense thing I’ve felt in weeks. I give my nipples another strong tug and I can feel my balls pulling up tight against my body. I speed up my strokes, the fantasy version of Mark still fucking my mouth, until finally I feel the cum start to boil in my nuts. I can feel the surge of cum travelling up my shaft pushing a wave of precum ahead of it. Then there is that intense build up as it reaches the tip of my cock.

In my fantasy, Mark is holding his cock fully down my throat, not letting me up for air. I glance up to him, but instead of Mark, I see Brad’s face. I’m shocked for a moment, but I can’t hold back any more and my cum starts flying out of my cock. Pulse after pulse sending long thick ropes of cum flying. The first rope hit me in the face, the warm stickiness sending another surge of pleasure through me. The next ropes go a little shorter, coating my chest and stomach in more cum. I lay there sticky and sweaty, basking in the afterglow of the jack off session.

After a few minutes I stand up, scooping the cum off my face and licking it off my fingers. I stagger to my feat and walk unsteadily down the hall to the bathroom. I can smell the funk coming off of me from the jack off session and my chest hair is matted with the sweat and cum. I turn the shower on and let it warm up as I rinse my face off in the sink. I pull the curtain back and step in as a cloud of steam wafts out. I climb in and quickly scrub my body off, washing away the funk, sweat, and cum.

I climb out of the shower feeling refreshed. Honestly this is probably the best I’ve felt in weeks. Though now, as the realization that I’m about to go break into some abandoned warehouse hits, a sinking pit forms in my stomach. But Brad seemed sure that it was just going to be a quick in and out job. Go in, see what the set up there is, and get out before anyone even knows we’re there. I’d never really tried sneaking around, but I was fairly light on my feet despite my size. I’m sure we’ll be okay.

I try to keep myself calm around the apartment by distracting myself with some games. Just something mindless to keep myself distracted for a while. I while away the afternoon until it’s time to get ready. I walk into the bedroom and change my clothes. I get some dark colored clothing, but something that still looks relatively normal. Makes sense to wear something dark to keep from being easily spotted, but I don’t want to wear anything that’s going to stand out. A guy in all black sweats in the middle of the night is going to attract more attention than a guy just dressed normally.

I check the paper that Brad gave me. It’s a small burger place across town. I head outside and grab a cab. After giving the guy the address, I lean back into the seat and read through my social media feeds. It’s honestly been a while since I really kept up with them. I realize I’d sunk into quite a bit of a depression, but with this lead on finding Mark, I’m feeling a bit more myself. The backseat of the taxi smells funky, like it hasn’t been washed in years. The cheap air freshener is trying to cover up the smell but failing at it miserably.

The cab pulls over and I pay the fare and step out into the early evening. The rain from earlier has stopped, but the ground remains damp and puddles line the street. A few potholes in the road remain filled with murky water, obscuring just how deep they are. The area is a little run down, so I would figure that they are much deeper than they’d appear at first glance. The wind is tearing down the street, ripping what little warmth is left from my body. I pull my grey jacket up close to my body, keeping whatever heat I can as I hurry into the burger shop. The harsh neon lights and brightly colored plastics of the 50’s style décor sear their way into my retina.

I feel a tap on my shoulder, “Good you made it,” Brad says. He’s dressed in a more normal way now instead of his skimpy outfit from before. His dark blue jeans are tight against his legs and accentuating his ass. His shirt is a dark green with a brown jacket over it.

“Of course. This is important to both of us.”

“Well, come on, we’ll go take care of things. Then, you can come back and get something to eat afterwards.”

“Right, maybe I will.” I really had no plans on eating at that place, but I wasn’t going to be rude and say it out loud. I’m sure the food was fine—greasy and unhealthy, but good enough. Still the lights hurt my eyes, and the garish colors disconcerted me.

The two of us head off down the street, taking a round-a-bout route to the warehouse. Brad doesn’t seem cold but is calm and collected. He keeps his head on a swivel, checking our surroundings constantly. I realize he’s looking out for anyone who might be working for this Edward guy. Thugs, cops, hired muscle, whatever form this guy’s goons might take, Brad was alert for them.

We start wandering around, seemingly aimlessly. I realize he’s leading me around in seemingly random directions, but we’re gradually moving towards some goal. His turns and double backs are there to keep it from being too obvious where we’re going if someone was watching us. I’m not sure that it would really work, as the repeated double backs might tip them off as well. Somewhere in the middle of the walk Brad had put his arm around my shoulders, I guess as a cover to make us look like friends or lovers out for a stroll in the early evening. Though I know it’s just meant to be cover for us, I can’t help but feel a bit flush and my cock chubs up a bit in my jeans.

After about 45 minutes, we come to a dark alley and Brad slows us down. He gives me a conspiratorial glance and pulls me into the alley. He grabs my ass as we walk down the alley and he pushes me against the wall behind a pile of boxes. He leans in, cupping my cock through my jeans and gives me a kiss on the lips. I feel my cock surge to full erection as he pulls his face back a little.

“Just a bit of cover,” he says in a breathy whisper before giving me another kiss then continues, “we’re here though.”

He drops down in front of me as if to give me a blow job. I feel my knees go a bit weak and my cock leaks a heavy drop of precum into my briefs. He tugs on my belt, but not to pull them down. Instead, he pulls me down so I’m behind the boxes and hidden from the street.

“Okay,” he whispers, “that should distract anyone who was following us. The warehouse is just over that fence back there.” He moves his head to indicate the chain-link fence at the back of the alley. “There is a blind spot in the cameras back there, we can use that to get up close and get to the door. Once we get inside we can see how many guys they have here, and maybe an idea of how many guards are inside. That way we can plan on how to get everyone out of there.”

I give him a nod and the two of us move towards the back of the alley. He goes over the fence first, the chain-link rattling slightly as he does. I pull myself over after him, though my weight makes the fence bend a little, the links rattling loudly. I hit the ground and try to remain motionless, keeping an ear out for any sounds that might indicate that we alerted someone. The area seems quiet, with no noises other than the sounds of traffic coming from the nearby streets. Even that is distant. I shift myself and move over behind some boxes with Brad, who gives me a bit of a dirty look. I try to look apologetic as we keep a watch around the area.

The area outside the warehouse is mostly empty with the odd scattered group of pallets and boxes. The space between the fence and the warehouse was pretty small, maybe a couple dozen feet on this side. About 50 feet away on the side of the building is a single metal door, the paint on it chipped and rusting. The door sits at the top of a small concrete platform raised a couple feet off the ground with three steps leading up to it. There is an old light fixture above the door, spreading a weak pool of light around the door. Brad points to a spot on the wall a little closer to us and following his gesture I see the darkened rectangle of a window about 10 feet off the ground. In what little light reaches it I can see a few old panes of glass, but most of the spaces are broken or missing. He quickly moves across the path in front of us and stops below the window. I follow him, trying to be as quiet as I can.

He gestures to me and puts his hands together in a cupping motion. I understand and mimic his gesture to give him a boost up to the window. He steps in my hands and I haut him upwards until he can grab the windowsill. He pulls the windowpanes upwards, opening the window and climbing through. He reaches his hand down, and I grasp it. Surprising me a bit with his strength, he helps to pull me up and through the window.

It’s even darker inside the warehouse and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. In the faint light I see we’re up on a small catwalk. Easily 20 feet below us is the floor of the warehouse. It seems odd since that would put it well below street level. In the middle of the warehouse, I can make out a small structure. There is a door on the side of the structure with a faint light shining through the edges around the door. On the far side of the warehouse, I can make out some large machines, but in the dim light I cannot tell what they are for. I motion to the structure to Brad and he gives a short nod and then points to a ladder connected to the catwalk nearby. I sneak over to the ladder, trying to keep low. I slowly climb onto it, carefully testing each rung as I go. The metal of the ladder is corroded, but it holds. Once I’m on the floor Brad follows down the ladder quietly.

We make our way over to the structure in the dark. Now that we’re closer I can see that the structure is three large cargo containers pushed together into making one big structure. If Mark and the other guys are in there, then they could move them within a few hours. We have to be extra cautious not to get caught. We approach the door and I strain my ears, trying to listen for anyone moving around inside. I move up and test the door handle slowly; luckily it is unlocked, and I continue slowly turning the handle until I can open the door. I slowly pull the door open, letting the bright light spill out into the darkened warehouse. I’m momentarily blinded by the light, but soon adjust enough to squint and look into the structure.

I don’t see or hear anyone moving inside, just a low hum of electronics running and the rumble of an air conditioning unit. The air coming through the door is warm and damp. It smells like disinfectant, but with a faint undercurrent of something musky. The room appears to be several long rows of lockers with a small walkway running down the middle. There is an open doorway running between each of the containers. I scurry inside the first container, looking both ways to make sure we’re alone in there. Brad follows shortly thereafter, pulling the door shut behind him. Hopefully, if anyone glances in now everything will look normal. I poke my head through the doorway into the next container checking for anyone. Finding none, I move into the last container and verify that we’re alone.

I look at Brad and shake my head. There’s no guards in here, but there’s also no sign of Mark or anyone else. At one end of the first container is a small desk with a computer mounted to it. Brad moves over to the computer and starts typing on it. I can see a bit of worry in his face, obviously fearing the same thing that I am, that this is a dead end. While he busies himself at the computer I look around the rest of the container. The lockers are all numbered, each in this container labeled “69-” and then a string of numbers. I move to the others and they are labelled similarly, except the lockers in them start with “68-” and “67-”. Assuming the numbers are accurate, it would imply that they have at least another 66 containers like these. Not sure what the lockers are for, but I’m sure it can’t be good.

In the third container in the same location as the desk was in the first, is a set of canisters. They look like the canisters they store helium in, but these are labelled as “K0-K69 Gas.” There are a couple of small canisters, about the size of an energy drink can, sitting on the floor. I grab one of them and carry it back over to Brad. As I walk through the door he looks up and motions me over. I hurry over to him, setting the canister down on the desk and look at the screen. He’s in some sort of database. There are pictures and stats of various men. Every picture is the man naked in a clinical setting. Instead of names they’re all referred to as “Test Subjects.” Holy shit, these guys are kidnapping men and using them for some sort of strange experiments.

Just as we’re about look for some clue as to where they’re keeping the subjects we hear the noise of a metal rolling door going up. We’re both startled, realizing that someone must be coming. In that brief jump scare my arm bumps the canister and sends it off the desk and onto the floor. There’s a clattering as it hit and I can hear the hiss of the gas escaping from some crack in the canister. A white mist quickly forms in the air as the gas begins to quickly fill the small space. The mist stings my eyes, and I begin to tear up. I pull my shirt up, trying to cover my mouth and nose as the two of us move quickly out the door.

I spare a quick glance towards the front of the warehouse where the doors are open and I can see the lights of a large truck with the silhouettes of several men showing in the light. We move quickly back up the ladder, worried more about being quick than stealthy. We make it back out the window and drop on the pavement outside. We can hear some shouts coming from inside, so we book it for the fence to the alley. We’re over the fence in seconds, and run up the alley hiding behind the boxes on the side away from the fence.

We’re both breathing heavily, but I manage to get out between hot gulps of air, “do you think they saw us?”

“There’s no way they didn’t see us in the warehouse, but hopefully, they didn’t see us go over the fence. Come on, let’s get going. We can’t stop until we’re away from here.”

We take off at a jog, trying to look more like a couple of joggers, though our clothes don’t match that. Brad leads the way, taking a direct route somewhere, though I’m not sure where. We took so many turns to get here, I’m not exactly sure where here is. After a few blocks we slow to a walk and Brad leads me up to an old apartment building.

“Okay, we can lay low here for a while. At least until morning,” Brad says as he starts up the stairs.

I hesitate for a moment, unsure of what’s going on, but quickly follow him up and into the building. We head upstairs to an apartment on the second floor, and Brad unlocks the door with a key. Inside is a dark and poorly lit apartment. A single lamp illuminates the room on from a small side table. The apartment is a small efficiency, with a black leather couch on one side and a TV on the other. There is a small kitchen area off to one side and a door that presumably leads to a bathroom. Brad walks in and flops down on the couch while I gently close the door behind me and lock it.

I stand there for a moment and try to catch my breath the rest of the way. As I do I become aware that my cock is rock hard in my pants. I feel a flush of embarrassment, followed by a bit of a rush of pleasure. Brad is sitting on the couch with his legs splayed wide, and I can see the outline of his hard cock in his tight pants.

“So, umm…” I start, trying to find something normal to talk about. “Did you see anything on the computer before they—”

“—before you knocked that gas over and nearly got us caught? Yeah, luckily I did. There were a bunch of numbers that I couldn’t figure out what they meant, but I did see an address near the docks where it listed some other containers.”

“Well, I did see the lockers were numbered. I think they have a lot more of them out there. No fucking clue what they’re for though. And that strange gas, do you think that’s what they’re testing on the guys they kidnap?”

“Yeah, probably, and you exposed us to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if we won’t be tripping balls before too long.” Brad adjusts his cock before he starts talking again. “Though speaking of balls, mine are feeling really full all of a sudden.”

I grin, feeling flush, my head feels like there’s a fog in my head. Thoughts keep slipping away before I can grab a hold of them. “Yeah, man, my fucking cock is so hard.” I walk over to Brad and climb between his knees. My hands start roaming over his body, pushing his shirt up and massaging the ample bulge in his jeans. He pulls his shirt off over his head, as I lean forward kissing his slim stomach, working my way down to his waistline. I unbuckle his belt and undo his pants. I feel a ravenous need to suck his cock and I start pulling at his pants almost violently. I rip his pants down enough to let his cock spring free, a very thick uncut 7 inches comes out and slaps against his belly with a wet smack. I lean forward and lick the splatter of precum off his stomach as I take his cock into my mouth.

I take his cock down to the root easily, as if I never had a gag reflex in the first place. I can hear him moaning, but I can’t seem to focus on it. Nothing but the cock in my mouth matters. As each drop of precum hits my tongue, an electric pulse of pleasure travels down my spine and straight into the base of my dick. The precum is intoxicating, and I feel like I’m actually getting drunk off it. His hips are bucking, and his legs are shaking with the pleasure, but all I care about is the cock and the cum I can practically taste. His hands are running through my hair, grabbing at me and holding my mouth down so he can fuck my throat.

“I’m gonna—” he starts but before he even finishes the word, I can feel his cock swell in my mouth and he starts shooting. The cum is shooting in a torrent, and I greedily swallow it down at first. But his cum just keeps shooting, huge pulse after pulse spraying into my waiting mouth. I pull back to breathe before I pass out and catch a couple ropes of cum across my face. My tongue flicks out and licks it up. His cock is still shooting though. Now that it’s not buried in my throat, I can see something’s wrong. His cock is smaller. A lot smaller. It’s maybe 4 inches long now, and his balls are nonexistent. With each rope of cum he shoots his cock get perceptibly smaller.

I have my hands down my pants, stroking my own cock as I watch his shrink. He’s watching his cock shrink away as he moans and shoots hot cum all over his body. Barely thirty seconds after I start stroking, I feel my balls pull up and I start cumming. I hadn’t even gotten my pants off, and I’m still watching as the last of Brad’s cock shrink away to nothing. I fall back, first against my heels, then falling all the way until I’m sprawled out on the floor. My pants are filling with my hot cum, and in my cum-drunk haze I don’t really care. Finally, my orgasm stops, and I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. My last thoughts before unconsciousness claims me are of cocks and cum.

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