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Message-ID: <39616asstr$1038971402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 03 Dec 2002 18:20:00 -0600
Reply-To: "Trader_32" <Trader_32@yahoo.com>
From: "Trader_32" <Trader_32@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Hot New Story: The Inventor (Str8 Boys Sexually Tortured)
Date: Tue,  3 Dec 2002 22:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

This story is meant to be interactive (and of course fiction).  It's about
an inventor who demos his inventions on some unsuspecting young straight men
for a group of people.  I haven't written Chapter 2 yet, but I'd like to get
your suggestions on what some of the devices/products should be.  I, of
course, have ideas of my own, but would gladly use your suggestions if they
are more deliciously deviant than mine.  I'd also like to receive pictures
of guys you think should play the parts of Jason, Chad and Pedro.  At some
point in the not-too-distant future, I'll post Chapter II and the pics of
the boys for everyone to enjoy.  Please send comments/suggestions for the
inventions/pictures of the boys to trader_32@yahoo.com.

The Inventor - Chapter I

The ad in the paper read:

Make Quick and Easy Money Lying Around!! $100 for 2 hours of work testing
sport health and relaxation products.  Guys only.  Email photo to
Trader_32@yahoo.com for consideration.

Bill was surprised by the number of responses he received and spent an
afternoon sorting through the many applicants.  He quickly deleted emails
from out-of-shape or over-weight men and settled on the three best-looking:
Jason Bently (17, high school wrestler, saving money for a car), Chad
Donahue (18, football player, paying for college), and Pedro Gonzalez (19,
first-year Navy cadet, saving for an engagement ring).  Although very good
looking, each of the boys Bill chose looked a little cocky and rough around
the edges and exuded a kind of raw heterosexuality.  The kind of guys who
watch too many sports, brag about how much beer they drink and deny they
jack off when they keep a stack of Hustler mags in their closets.

"Yep," Bill thought, leaning back in his chair and crossing his hands over
his gut, "These should do the trick."  He promptly emailed each boy back,
congratulating him on his selection, and providing him directions to his
place and the expected time of arrival.

When the big day finally came, Bill's stomach was in a knot, filled with
both nervousness and excitement.  In fact, he had barely slept the night
before and tinkered with each device to be sure that it was working
properly.  Batteries in place, gears greased.  With the help of the
internet, he was able to assemble a group of vendors from around the world
who agreed to meet with him and review his inventions to determine their
usefulness and profitability.  They were due to arrive at 9:00 pm.

For Bill, this night would be the culmination of a life-long dream to be
known as a famous inventor.  Better yet, it would show those assholes who
laughed at him and called him crazy that he knew exactly what he was doing.
How could a famous inventor like him have to work in a grocery store for a
living?  Didn't they call Bill Gates crazy?

Bill Swithers had spent five long years and thousands of dollars of his own
money to build tonight's gadgets and success depended on a good and
informative demo.  Due to cost and difficulty in finding guys to try his
products, he had considered using slides and drawings to explain how each
one worked.  But after seeing a Soloflex commercial on TV and how the bare
chested young man was used to sell a piece of cheap workout equipment, he
quickly decided that he MUST have a live demo with equally impressive
subjects.  Everything had to be perfect!!

Just as Bill hoped, the guys showed up right on schedule -- at 8 pm -- and
within minutes of each other.  Each was dressed casually in khakis and a
collared shirt (as they had been instructed), offered a firm handshake at
the door, and accepted a seat on the couch.  Bill watched with surprise at
how quickly they dived into the beer and Doritos on the coffee table and
loudly discussed the Steelers-Dallas game blaring on the TV.  Hell, these
guys had never even met and they were acting like they were best friends
just because of Miller beer and football.  For a minute, he felt envious and
wondered why he didn't have friends like that.

The young men were completely unaware of how their middle-aged host stared
at their spiked hair, broad shoulders, bulging pecs, narrow waists and
bubble butts.  (None of them were body builders, mind you, but they all were
well built from years of sports and exercise.  Strong and toned.  All-around
boy-next-door guys.)

With every passing minute and the more they talked about sports, Bill's cold
eyes saw them less and less as people, and more and more as pieces of meat
to be used to achieve his goals.  He took mental notes of their equipment:
slightly hairy and muscular upper-arms on one, deep voices on all three,
briefs-lines under their khakis, clean-shaven.

Bill snapped out of his stupor and glanced at his watch.  It was already
8:15 and he needed to move fast.

"Ah... guys... can I have your attention for a minute?" he interrupted,
adjusting the glasses on his face.

"First of all, let me thank you boys for coming.  I really appreciate your
help..."

"And we really appreciate your money, pops!!" Pedro blurted out, cracking up
his new buddies.

"OK fellas, HA HA... you'll get your money after the show.  Just as I
promised.  This'll be the easiest money you've ever made.  But first, I need
you to sign these release forms.  It's no big deal... I can assure you that
no one has ever died from using my sports products.  Take your time and read
all the fine print."

Bill passed out the sheets and felt a knot in his stomach as he nervously
watched the three jock boys pretending to read the detailed document.  One
by one, they signed the form and passed it back to him.

"What the fuck?" Chad said, "How much harm can a fuckin' back massager do?"
Jason and Pedro giggled in agreement and nodded their heads, eager to get
back to the game.

"Fantastic!" Bill said, glancing at his watch and putting the release forms
into a desk drawer.  He suddenly felt a strange stirring in his groin and
felt a sense of power wash over him as he looked at the well built young
boys sitting on his couch ignoring his presence.  They looked so confident
in their nice clothes and with their good looks and hot bodies.  His mind
swirled with images of them reacting to his inventions.

Determined to waste no more time, Bill quickly removed 4 small crystal
glasses from his bureau and filled them with a pungent yellow liquid.

"So who the fuck are these people comin' to look at a bunch of faggot shit
for guys?" Jason snickered.

"My inventions are not shit, Bill," barked, wondering why stupid guys are
popular just because of their looks.  "And these are people who sell
products to consumers with distinguished tastes.  I'm filling a niche."

"Freaks...," Jason mumbled under his breath, glancing at his buddies on the
couch.

"Now let's drink a toast to a successful evening," Bill said, passing the
drinks around.

The boys gulped down the brew in one shot before seeing Bill set his
still-full glass on the table.

"Jesus!" Chad yelled with a scowl on his face. "What the fuck was that shit?
Tastes like battery acid!"

"It's a drug," Bill said matter of factly, leaning back on the bureau and
enjoying the stunned look on the pretty faces.  He clicked off the TV. "In
just a few seconds, you'll be completely paralyzed, unable to move your
body, yet you'll be fully awake and aware of what's going on.  Don't be
afraid though, the effects will only last for about a half an hour.  It's
just long enough for me to strip each you boys down to your underwear and
closely examine every detail of your bodies to figure out who will demo
which device.  I'll also be tying you down to specially designed tables that
will give me and our guests easy access to your most sensitive body parts,
namely your nipples, penises, testicles and rectums.  Oh and I'll force a
red rubber ballgag into your mouths to make sure the guests only hear your
moans of pleasure... once the drug has worn off, of course.  Remember, for
the next few hours, your bodies belong to me and no one cares what you have
to say.  And one last thing... as the contract states, each of your
performances will be videotaped for use in my future marketing promotions.
Really guys... I don't care what other people say, I think you're gonna LOVE
this!"

Before Bill finished speaking, the three unsuspecting boys were slumped over
in their seats -- eyes wide open and a look of fear frozen on their handsome
teen faces.

"Now let's see what we've got here..." Bill said aloud to himself as he
knelt between Jason's open legs and unbuckled the belt from the teen's
waist.

End Chapter I

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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