Perversions and Transgressions Ch. 06byOver Stimulated©
At the start of my second year in medical school I felt I was starting over again. My fiancée had moved far away to start her graduate school in psychology. Our relationship was solid but it would be three years until we were together again. I've always been kind of a loner but I actually felt alone. I missed her.
To make matters worse my secret had been exposed. To one person. But that one person could be a nightmare. Randall was a medical student as well and we had several classes together. We had been partners in Gross Anatomy. He was also completely void of respect or compassion for anyone but himself. Once I had manipulated him into fucking my unconscious girlfriend. I had tried a second time but he had figured it out. He had fucked her anyway in the backseat of my car while I watched. It had turned me on and I treasured that memory as I did the other times I had watched her being taken. But I didn't know what he would do next.
At the time he'd said that I shouldn't try to manipulate men into fucking her and should just tell them. Then I could watch without all of the subterfuge. But I didn't want to do that. I didn't want people knowing. People could use that information against me. They could threaten to tell my fiancée Denise. They could just tell her. Plus, I found it a thrill to watch people convincing themselves to do it. Watching their hesitancy overcome by desire.
Denise is very attractive. I always see men ogling her and have always been proud of that, and even aroused by it. I know men think about what they'd like to do to her. I give them the opportunity. I drug her so they can do those things. Watching them understand that and take advantage of it is part of the thrill.
But now Randall knew all about what I had done and I wondered what he would do with that information. I lost sleep wondering about it. I pictured him blackmailing me, saying he'd tell her if I didn't give him money or let him have her whenever he wanted, that he'd push it all too far and she'd find out. I lived in dread of him just telling her for his own amusement.
So, I just avoided him as best I could. The first month of the new year I was successful. We shared some classes, but I stayed away from him. I wouldn't even meet his gaze. He called me a couple of times, but I didn't answer my phone and he left short messages just saying to call him back. I knew something would happen eventually. I knew he'd tell me what he was going to do. I knew he'd do something. I just wanted to pretend it would never happen.
Second year was more difficult than first year. There was much more course work but it was more interesting, focusing on clinical diagnoses and preparing us for rotations the next year. I was swamped and so was everyone else. Randall was even showing up to classes and lectures more than first year.
Still it had been about a month into the new year when he finally did approach me. We were exiting the building from a pathology lecture. I had left as quickly as I could, knowing that Randall takes his time and wanting to get out of there as I had everyday previously. But he caught up to me.
"Mike," he yelled as I hurried down the steps outside of the building.
I pretended I didn't hear him and continued walking.
"Hey Mike!" he yelled again.
I heard him running to catch up to me. I sighed and stopped to wait for him. I looked down at my shoes, listening to him approaching me, and not wanting to look at him.
"So you're avoiding me, huh?" he said.
"Just busy," I said.
I started walking again, letting him walk with me if he needed to talk to me.
"Busy avoiding me," he said, falling in beside me.
I didn't respond. I just wanted him to leave me alone.
"So are you afraid of what I'll do now or just ashamed?" he asked.
I glanced at him and looked away. I was actually surprised that shame was one emotion I hadn't really felt.
"What do you want?" I asked stiffly.
"How about some coffee?" he said. "There's the coffee shop right up ahead. And we need to talk."
I stopped and he came to a stop beside me. I forced myself to look him in the face directly.
"What do you want?" I asked again.
He smiled, that big 'trust me' grin he used often and set his hand on my shoulder.
"It's alright, man," he said. "Just a cup of coffee. Though doesn't look like you need the caffeine. You're fucking tense. Relax."
"Fine," I said and continued walking.
As we walked to the coffee shop he babbled about the lecture we'd just attended and about some female student that had sat next to him that had large breasts but an unattractive face. He asked her out anyway, but she had turned him down which convinced him that she was homosexual.
The coffee shop was mostly vacant, just two students at one end with laptop computers. We ordered our coffees and sat at a tall table at the far end.
"No need to avoid me, man," Randall said as soon as we sat down.
"I've been busy," I said, finding I couldn't bring myself to look at him.
"Look, it's nothing to be ashamed of if that's what's bothering you. I don't care what you do. And I've enjoyed myself a whole hell of a lot," he said and chuckled.
I just nodded, looking down at my coffee.
His laughter subsided and he sighed.
"I told you that night what I thought about it," he continued. "I think you've got it all wrong. You don't need to be tricking guys into doing it. Guys will do it gladly. Trust me."
I forced myself to take a sip from my coffee and looked at him over the rim of the cup.
"Maybe you've been afraid I'd tell her or get you in trouble or let out your secret," he said. "But I ain't gonna do that. Hell, I'd be in trouble too. I was the one who raped her. Twice."
He laughed and shook his head. Then, he looked past me, remembering what had happened.
"And she is something else," he said and sighed heavily.
Without him looking at me I was able to study his face. He looked sincere to me. Still I wasn't sure where this was going.
"Anyway," he said, looking back at me. "You don't need to worry about me fucking things up for you. I know you two are engaged now. You don't want that fucked with. I don't want to be fucked with either."
I watched him as he talked and I felt more secure. I was believing what he was saying. If he did let my secret out he would be in trouble too, and more than me. He's the one who'd actually raped her. I had just watched. Well, I had done more than that, but only so much could be proven if needed.
"I want to help you out," he said.
He nodded at me and took a big sip of his coffee.
"How's that?" I asked.
"What you're doing is dangerous," he said quickly, anticipating my question. "You set up the situation then watch. But you have no control over it. Sure you think you can step in if something happens, but then you're exposing yourself. Plus, she could be hurt before you could do anything. A lot of guys are into sick shit. Beating chicks up. Biting. Choking. Someone could mess her up good before you could even do anything."
I shivered at the thought of some sadist getting hold of her. That was one of my biggest concerns. I had always picked men I thought wouldn't be like that, but I can never be sure. I assumed I could interfere if needed, but still it was a very real danger.
"To those guys she's just a piece of meat," he continued. "You love her. I know that. But to those guys she's just a fuck. Something to be used. And if one of them did some damage to her you'd be destroyed. Am I right?"
"Yeah," I said and nodded.
I looked down into the swirling black of my coffee, remembering the thoughts I've had of the bad things that could happen to her if I didn't protect her. I'd never forgive myself if someone really hurt her.
"And the way you're doing it now is fuckin' risky, man," he said.
"I make sure...," I started.
"I know you do," he said, holding his hands up. "I'm sure you do everything you can to make it safe. But listen..." He glanced around as another student came in and walked to a table on the other side. "You can only do so much the way you're doing it. You need someone on the inside."
I looked at him sharply. He was giving me his friendliest grin, a politician's grin, one that says to trust me while I get what I want from you.
"You need someone who knows, who will help you, who is involved in it. Someone who can orchestrate the whole thing and trap the guys into it while you do what you want, which is watch without being seen," he said.
"And you want to be this person, right?" I asked.
"What the fuck am I talking about here?" he said. "Of course it would be me. Who the fuck else knows? Who else knows how to find guys you can use? Who would be able to handle it if anything went wrong? I could be right there."
"So what would you do?" I asked, actually intrigued by what he was offering, even if I didn't buy into the way he was selling it to me. "You'd find guys and bring them to her somehow, talk them into fucking her. You would fuck her too. And you'd make sure the other guy didn't get out of line."
"You're getting the idea," he said. "I'd handle it all. You'd just have to drug her. We could take her where you wanted. I'd bring someone. I'd coerce him into it. I'd make sure it was a good guy, a clean guy. If he does get out of line I'll be right there to take care of him. It's a sweet fuckin' setup, man."
"Quiet down," I whispered, his voice getting louder as he talked.
"No one can hear us," he said, but softer. "But you see what I'm saying, right? You're afraid that I know about this, but you should be thankful. I can help you. I can take the stress out of this so you can just sit back and enjoy it."
"What do you get out of it?" I asked. "For helping me so much."
"I think it's a fuckin' turn on, man," he said. "Can't you tell? And not to hurt your feelings, but she is the hottest chick I've ever seen and has the nicest pussy I've ever fucked."
Him saying that made my arms break out in goose bumps from excitement. I loved hearing him talk about her like that.
"And it's just something awesome to do," he said. "I get bored doing all the usual shit. This is something different. This is something interesting. This is something that nobody is doing."
I looked at him, obviously excited. He definitely wasn't lying to me about all of this. He was bringing the hard sell. But this is what he really wanted. He wasn't going to rat me out. He wasn't going to blackmail me. He wanted in on it.
"I don't know," I said.
"Just think about it," he said.
"She's away at school now anyway," I sighed. "She won't be coming here to visit like she used to."
"She'll come here sometime," he said. "Whenever that is. Whenever she comes visit just let me know and we'll set it up."
I frowned and looked down at my coffee.
"Think about it," he said. "It's a great fuckin' idea and you know it."
He continued talking while I finished my coffee, reiterating what he'd already said. I listened to him, but was mostly thinking about what he was offering. It made some sense to me. My biggest concerns were getting a guy to use her when she was passed out and if the guy would do something to hurt her. Having someone there to persuade the guy into doing what he already wanted to do while also making sure it didn't get out of hand alleviated those problems, and all while keeping my own anonymity.
My concerns about Randall using it against me were resolved by the fact that he and the other guy would be the ones actually raping her. Randall wouldn't rat me out because he'd be in worse trouble than me since he had actually raped her. He had his own motivation to keep it all a secret.
I wasn't comfortable having someone else involved, but Randall already was involved. He knew. He'd fucked her right in the back seat of my car while I'd driven him home. I'd still found it exciting even as I'd been anxious about it. She'd still been fucked while passed out and he'd come inside her and left her there in the back seat, her skirt pushed to her hips, her panties pulled to the side, so vulnerable. I squirmed in my seat as I felt myself getting hard from remembering it.
As we left I told him I'd have to think about it and I wasn't sure there'd be any more opportunities since she had moved so far away anyway. I didn't know if or when she'd come to visit again. He told me to just keep it in mind because she'd surely visit at some point. I told him I'd think about it and we parted.
After that we became friends again, or as close to friends as we had been before, though our relationship changed. He no longer used me as much for class work. He showed up to classes and lectures regularly so he didn't need them from me. The second year was much more difficult and while he was extremely smart and had coasted by the first year, he couldn't do that anymore, and he rose to the challenge. He was just as rude and loud as ever, but was putting forth more effort. He seemed to treat me with more respect and chummy goodness than he had before. I'm sure in part he was sucking up to me, but part of it I'm sure was also gratitude and a real sense of friendship.
It made me realize how I had made no friends since I'd started medical school. I'd never had a lot of friends but at least in undergraduate school I'd had a few friends. One of my best friends, Thomas, had been the first person I'd watched use Denise while she was passed out. I hadn't even kept in touch with him. My life had been centered on medical school, Denise, and obsessing about Denise being taken. That didn't seem healthy. The closest person to a friend was Randall who I didn't really trust and had used me for class work and fucking my fiancée.
I really didn't have anyone besides Denise. I wasn't close to my family. I hadn't kept in touch with old friends. I hadn't made any new friends. I didn't feel like my life was missing anything, but it didn't seem healthy. Also, it occurred to me that if I could lure those friends and acquaintances into using Denise. Once that thought came to me I decided to start being more friendly and making friends.
I even tried to contact old friends. I found an old e-mail from Thomas and wrote to him. I knew he had stayed at our undergraduate school to pursue his graduate work in English literature. He responded and I worked on reestablishing that friendship. From him I got information about mutual friends and contacted them. I also made a concerted effort to be more friendly to my fellow classmates. Doing all this in the back of my mind I considered the potential for each of them to be used in my schemes with Denise.
In this way, time moved pretty quickly. I was busy and feeling the pressure of medical school in a way I hadn't the first year. The emphasis was on actual application of the knowledge we had gained. I had to study even more. I got involved in study groups with other students, hoping to also gain some friends that way.
Denise and I talked as often as we could, but she was busy as well. She said she was planning on having a Thanksgiving dinner at her apartment with friends she had made there who weren't going home for the holiday. I think she was mainly doing it to stave off sadness from not having the holiday with her parents. She asked me to come if I could find the time. I decided I would find the time even if it meant spending the majority of the trip studying.
So I made the trip the day before Thanksgiving, spending money I didn't have for an airplane ticket, and carrying more books and notes than clothes. Of course I also took some of the drug I used to make her unconscious. I wasn't sure if there'd be an opportunity to use it but figured it was best to be prepared.
She picked me up at the airport and took me back to her apartment which was half of a duplex. It was a small two-bedroom apartment and nicer than her previous apartment. She lived there alone, but was looking for a roommate. I wondered if she even needed a roommate. She had received some money from her parents' will and was going to receive more as their affairs were settled and their house was sold. She wanted to save that money for our wedding and then to help us as we started our marriage.
We hadn't seen each other in several months so we spent that evening in bed. We hadn't slept much by Thanksgiving morning and were both pretty tired, but she needed to get up to start preparing the holiday meal. I wished that she wasn't having friends over so we could just be alone, but told myself this would be a good opportunity to meet her friends as well as try to make friends myself.
She had three of her classmates coming that day: Rebecca whom she was becoming good friends with, Charles whom was dating Rebecca, and Taylor, of whom she said was a shy quiet guy that she and the other two had befriended at first because they felt sorry for him but had since found was smart and funny.
While Denise prepared the turkey I got my books and notes out and started studying while the Thanksgiving Day Parade played on the television. By late morning Taylor arrived alone with a pumpkin pie and Rebecca and Charles arrived a short while later with a couple of bottles of wine. I gathered my study materials together on the coffee table to make room for their drinks and attempted to take part in their conversation, at least when it wasn't concerned with their studies, professors, and schooling.
"I considered medical school, but seemed like too much work," Rebecca said, then looked over my pile of notes and books, "and I think you've confirmed that."
"So you took the easy street of psychology like the rest of us," Charles said and laughed.
"It doesn't seem that easy," I said, putting down my notes. "From what Denise tells me at least."
"Don't believe her. She just wants sympathy," Charles said.
"That's all women, right? We all want sympathy from our men," Rebecca joked.
"Studies have shown..." Charles said.
They all three laughed. I just looked at them.
"One of our professors says that often," Taylor told me.
"Way too much," Charles said.
Charles glanced away from us to Denise as she walked from the kitchen to the small dining area at the back of the apartment. Rebecca saw him look at Denise, looked back at her too, then frowned at him. Denise was wearing ragged denim shorts worn enough that the pockets were showing out the bottom of the legs and a loose white blouse that billowed around her showing the shadow of her body through it. Taylor glanced at her then away from her nervously. Denise set some plates on the table, stretching her long tanned legs, the curve of her breasts visible from the light streaming through the window. I smiled at how just her setting a table grabbed the attention of everyone in the room.
"I hope you guys aren't telling stories about me," Denise said and walked into the living room.
"Just that you're a great student and everyone's favorite study partner," Charles said with a big grin.
"Better be," she said.
She sat down on the arm of the couch next to him and pushed his head away from her.
"Don't believe anything he says," she said. "He's a wise ass."
"Every class has to have one," he beamed. "You guys are just lucky this one is so handsome."
Then, he grabbed her thigh on the couch arm and pushed like he was trying to shove her off the couch. She shoved him away and stood up.
"Keep teasing and you'll get no cranberry sauce," she joked.
"Promise?" he said.
Rebecca looked at him crossly and folded her arms across her chest. She was obviously getting upset with him and I guessed it wasn't the first time, and not the first time for flirting with Denise.
"Need any help?" Taylor asked. "I'm no chef but I know my way around the kitchen."
I waited for Charles to make the obvious joke. Taylor was overweight. He had a large gut like on a Buddha statue. Though the rest of him seemed normal if not muscular. Still with the gut and shyness he seemed smaller than he really was. Charles didn't make the joke though. Apparently he had enough respect for Taylor to not say it.