Wyrd Dream Ch. 01

I am your average male—6' tall, brown hair, hazel green eyes—and I have weird dreams. My weird dreams are, like normal men have from time to time, homosexual in nature. Don't bother to say you don't have them guys because, according to psychologists and numerous studies on the subject, we do. Even the straight ones like me.

Now, while I admit I am basically average, there are things about me that are most definitely not average. For example, the average males genitals are about 6" long when hard—I am that long when I am soft! Also, while perhaps, most men are either dominant or submissive I am a switch. For those of you who don't know that means I enjoy both the dominant and submissive roles in a relationship whether it is long-term, short-term or strictly sexual.

The dreams I'd been having lately were scaring me. I had these extremely violent dreams of being gangbanged by a number of men. Men who had no care for me, who just wanted to use my ass for a cunt and my mouth for a slut mouth to suck them off. I was the center of attention, but it was not the type of attention a straight male ever really cares for.

Honestly, I can't say what scared me most about the dreams. Was it the fact that in the dreams everything, although it starts out forced, appears as if I am willingly submitting to their attentions? Was it the fact that I was having such a dream at all? Or, perhaps, was it the fact that in the dream, and later when I woke up because of it, I was aroused by it?

Perhaps in our dreams we do the things we fear the most as a way of working through those fears. I really don't know, but I am sure the story itself will be what arouses you so let me get on with the telling of it.

The dream starts with me broken down on the side of the road. Admittedly, I am no mechanic. I know how everything is supposed to work in theory, but my body is not made for mechanical work. In short, my hands are too big and I am a klutz.

Now I know it sounds like the normal damsel in distress, male version, of a story, and you are right it is. Unfortunately for me I did not have a gorgeous long-legged blonde come riding to my rescue on a flashy silver Harley—I got a gang of bikers that looked like they were right out of some ol' movie about bikers, the 60's drug scene and the sexual revolution.

The lead one, the leader, of course, was not surprisingly known as "Snake", I heard his name mentioned by one of the gang members just as the whole gang stopped by my car. As I tried my best to get the piece of shit going I thought to myself, "Great! Just what I need to be hassled by bikers."

Now I am, like I mentioned previously, not a small man by any stretch of the imagination. In point of fact, I am slightly over 250 pounds and a multiple level black belt. I figured I would just try to be friendly with them and maybe I would not have to hurt them.

As it turned out I ended up getting much friendlier with them then I thought I ever would want to get with a dirty group of bikers.

Snake approached me with hard look in his eye and asked if I needed any help? (Not a bloody genius that one!)

What else could I say? I just wanted to get on my way is all.

"Yes," it seemed not much, but the obvious answer so I went for it.

"I don't know what happened exactly," I continued, "but it just sort of died. I thought I heard a clunk back there a ways but now I am not so sure."

"Lucky for you," Snake intoned, "we are all mechanics in this motorcycle club of ours."

"Lucky indeed," I spoke up, "My name is Duke."

There was no way I was giving these people my real name that is for sure. Although, had they known my real name is Marion Michael Morrison they would have died laughing. My parents shared the same last name as the real Duke so when they had me they named me in his honour.

"I am Snake," Snake began, "and this motley looking bunch of friendly scum is known as 'The Lords of War'."

It sounded like a name stolen from a movie or someone's weird idea of something meant to be scary although they didn't seem it at the time to me. Boy was I wrong!

As I moved around the car trying to figure out the problem I could sense Snake moving around nearby and somehow he suddenly seemed more malevolent in nature. Just in time I struck out when I sensed someone intended me harm. It wasn't Snake though, but one of the other bikers. He was large--probably 6' 4", heavy—I estimated about 350 or 400 pounds—and he moved fast for his size.

Unfortunately for him, at the time, I moved faster. I struck out with a back kick that sent him flying across the area I was parked in. His buddies laughed! He, however, found it less than amusing.

As he came at me again I warned him, "I do not wish to hurt you, but I will defend myself properly." He actually let loose with a belly laugh that would have made Santa Claus proud, but he definitely was not some jolly ol' elf.

As he rushed at me I sidestepped him and slammed him head first into the side of my classic '69 Shelby Mustang GT 500 Fastback. The son of a bitch left a dent in the side of it. Now I knew he had to pay for it in more than one way and I intended to do just that.

My mentioning the cost made him laugh all the harder until I bust his right kneecap sideways and the bone started sticking out where it protruded from.

"Metal is easier to repair then bone, but nearly as costly. Let's call it even there," I said. He can't say I didn't try to be nice. Something told me he was too malevolent to give it a rest and let the subject drop.

Although he could no longer fight it seemed I'd picked the wrong one to hurt. Suddenly Snake and the rest of his crew came at me hard and fast. Now I am good. I can't say that a lot of men were not hurt, maimed or dying when the fight finally ended, but even as good as I am I could not take on 60 myself and expect to win. I tried working my way to a bike, the woods, some way to get away from there. I did, make sure, however, on the way out, that more than a few of them would not be following me.

Eventually, just when I thought I had gotten away free and clear, I was captured. Unlike me these bikers knew the lay of the land and catching me was just a game to them. I thought I was back in the woods where they would not find me when I, quite literally, stumbled into their main camp. There were quite literally hundreds, maybe thousands, of these "Lords of War."

Now I knew I was about to die. I had severely hurt, maimed and maybe even killed a few of their group. I am not a biker, but even I know that is a no-no among bikers, especially if done by someone not a member of the group in the first place!

As the smaller group managed to contact the larger one somehow before I got there I was immediately surrounded. The members all looked at me rather seriously and I was unsure what to do. Running wasn't an option, fighting wasn't an option, dying was a very bad option and I was running out of choices rather quickly.

What the hell was I going to do?

It was a question I did not need to think on long as the answer was provided me by Snake when he caught up to me.

"You think you are so smart, so tough. Well that may be so one on one, but here, where you are severely outnumbered, you are nothing more than a fucking slut toy to be played with and used," said Snake.

"Fuck me!!" I thought I had thought it to myself, but in my current frame of mind again I was wrong.

"That is right slut---Fuck you!!" Snake hissed at me. "We will all fuck you until you can't fuck anymore then we will continue to fuck you until you cock falls off from lack of use and your ass is sore from way too much of the same—as will your mouth be.

They came at me from all directions, too many at once to fight off, and I was stripped of my clothes, my freedom and my dignity all at once. Kicking and screaming until the end, until the moment I was locked on all fours by, at least for any human, unbreakable chains.

One of the men laughed, "Scream yourself hoarse slut! Noone can hear you here and we will make sure your sore throat gets lubricated with lots of cum slut."

Another one said, "Whore we will ride your better than any horse ever would be ridden. And some of us even have horse-sized cocks to ride you with!"

The comments went on and on each one getting progressively more coarse and making me feel smaller and smaller until I reached a point where I thought I had completely disappeared and simply because nothing more than a set of holes to fuck to them. And indeed that is all I was too them. It made no difference to them whether I was male or female; I was simply something to fuck. I could have been a pocket pussy for all that they cared for me.

As I was unable to change my position I was more and more aware of what was going on around me and less and less aware of my own self. Whether they were throwing food or liquid on me mattered not at this point. When they made me drink their piss from a dog bowl it somehow even seemed normal although that did not come until much, much later.

They started simply by arousing me. The demons that they were they had their women perform naked for me, touch me, stroke my cock, even suck it but never, ever did they let me cum.

Anything you could do to arouse a man they did to me. I was hot under the burning sun, but hotter still from their ministrations. Imagine the feeling of being aroused non-stop but not being allowed release. The gang's vixens kept me on edge for so extended period that I lost track of time—even the day it was.

My cock was hard, pointing straight at the ground and dripping pre-cum. It was not long until one of the women decided to make me eat my drippings like a slut whore. One of the women even used the drippings to lubricate my ass as she first fingered it then proceeded to eat it.

I've never been into analingus, but her actions had their desired affect and my anal flower opened up allowing her all the access she wanted to tickle my prostate with her tongue. I squirmed as her tongue worked its way slowly around, then in, while she teased me mercilessly.

My hips bucked trying to make her take more of her tongue deep into my ass. I was a slut trying to take more cock to her. She ate me out for what seemed like forever while I neared orgasm from her ministrations. Every time I got close to orgasm I felt her soft hand squeeze the base of my cock in just the right way, and for the correct length of time, to stop me from exploding.

Eventually I was so aroused, so on edge, I agreed to whatever they wanted to be allowed release. That was when they knew they had me! My eyes glazed over, I slipped into that state of nothingness that some call subspace and I responded to whoever was in control of me at the moment.

I never even realized that it was a real cock that had been put to my lips instead of a fake cock. Realistically, I probably would have expected it given my current condition if I had not been so deeply lost in that state of nothingness. My mind was a total blank and only focused on pleasing and being pleased.

That cock put to my lips was pushed slowly between them like a virgin male making love for the first time to a virgin female. It pushed slowly, insistently and gently between my lips. I could feel it go deeper and deeper into my mouth and down my throat but it didn't really register.

My body was on automatic to the point that even my gag reflex seemed to have been suppressed or, at least, I quickly became used to his size. When the woman rimming me left and a cock was placed there I really can't recall. I was too hot sexually to even think of the fact that I was now stuck like a pig being slow-roasted over a flame.

People must have gathered, eventually, because soon enough I felt a rain of sticky jism falling on my skin. Hands were rubbing it in as I was taken slowly, at first, then faster and harder. My ass was suddenly felt a pulsing, throbbing feeling deep within it. It was only moments later that I felt a firehose squirting me from the insides. Shortly thereafter I was swallowing the jism of the man in my mouth. The more I swallowed the more the cock in my mouth throbbed and pushed its seed down my throat.

I was kept chained like this at all times while I was used constantly by the men in the gang. From time to time I would feel a woman climb over me, straddling me, and that was followed by her warm pee which was used to wash me off. My cock was milked sometimes at night by whoever was feeling particularly dirty and randy.

It turned out that they were not the only ones here, but rather, this was a biker rally. Day or night, it made no difference, I was used by whoever was in the mood to fuck a slut like me. I was made to eat their cocks on a regular basis, some whipped me, some fucked me with toys and beer bottles, the women kept me on edge at all times so my state of mind never changed the whole time I was there.

Occasionally my bonds were removed one at a time to allow them to give me a sponge bath to get me clean and for me to stretch my individual limbs and get the blood flowing again. Also, these small breaks were used to check me for injuries—after all a dead or damaged slut is good to noone—and to tease me further due to the extra amount of access that they could get while I was slightly released.

Of course, the cocks that violated me rarely stopped during these times, although they did have to change position a tad to allow the various jobs to be done to me to be done properly.

How many days passed and how many men had me or women teased me I do not know. There was a constant line of men to fuck my mouth until my jaw was sore and my mouth was overflowing with cum and another line to fuck my ass until I was so raw and loose that I needed to take a rest before it could be done again.

Nightly I received enemas from beautiful biker chicks who would not only tease me and call me dirty names, but use me for their pleasure, never allowing me to cum at all. The more aroused and closer they got before I was ready to cum and they had to start the harder they were with me.

Beatings were normal for me. I was gangraped by numerous women who then would beat me because they were unable to cum before I was ready to. Nightly the beatings got more and more vicious. Just a guess, but I don't think the guys were using them as much as they wished to. From my point of view every last woman there was severely horny and extremely sex starved, kind of like dogs feed very little and beaten regularly they became meaner and meaner.

Admittedly, though I was harshly treated, I was well fed and well sexed, even if it was with persons I would never have even approached prior to this experience.

One night, the number of toys attached to me increased severely. My knees ached in ways that I can not even describe, but it did not compare to the nipple rings that were hung from nipples after first being pierced without numbing them in anyway. The nipple rings were drenched in alcohol eliciting a scream from me that was so guttural that it was sure to show the level of non-humanness I had reached. I was more animal then human by this point and this was just another way of demonstrating that fact to all present.

At the same time my nipples were pierced I had several men under me sucking my cock and keeping it very, very hard. It definitely distracted me from my nipple piercings—at least until they decided that my cock needed to be pierced as well.

Now, I have my left ear pierced with a diamond stud already, and my nipples have been pierced previously, although they have been removed and healed up, so I am somewhat used to piercings, but I was used to them being numbed before being done. Unfortunately for me that was not to be. Each piercing made me howl all the more.

As I howled in pain I was silenced immediately by having a large cock crammed down my throat all the way to the root of the cock that was inserted. It is tough to scream when your mouth is filled with a 12" long, beer can thick, black tube snake.

The cock rammed my mouth savagely after each piercing to keep me quiet and the look on the owner said, "Bite me and die slowly and painfully." Each piercing, and savage mouth fucking, made me fall even deeper into subspace. I was a wet and willing set of male cunts to be used well.

It took time for the piercings to heal and I was allowed it, but that doesn't mean that the rest of my body was off limits—quite the contrary. I was whipped, beaten, flogged, assfucked and forced to suck cock all the more. The only thing they could not do was touch my cock or nipples while they healed. Of course all the movements caused by what they did to me did not help me heal up any quicker, but they were admittedly turn-ons to me.

From time to time a new form of humiliation was come up with for me and they loved humiliating me. As if being pierced in my cock numerous times, in my nipples, being chained down on all fours nude and available to anyone's use was not enough one day they decided that since I was basically a male cunt/female to them that I should indeed dress the part.

Several of the biker's bitches worked on me, never letting more than a single limb loose at a time, turning me into the sluttiest looking female that they could. I am not sure how much time had passed by this point, but it was definitely enough for my hair to grow out about 6 inches. Days, weeks, months, years they made no difference to me.

My body was shaved completely of hair except for that which was on my head. No hair existed below my eyebrows. My ass did not really need the enemas as I had had so much cum in my ass by now that my ass had room for little else. I was cleaned up fully, loving every minute of the sponge bath, and makeup and clothing were applied to me.

My lips had a bright slut red shade applied to them, my face made up to look like a hooker ready for her nights work. As for clothes they were way too skimpy, very tight and practically screamed, "Fuck this slut hard and fast."

Now, by the time they had finished putting me in this outfit I was hard as a rock—not a big surprise given the fact that they kept me constantly on edge and, if I am right, though I doubt they had to at this point, drugged me with a constant amount of Viagra and X to keep me compliant, horny and remove all of my inhibition. I will admit though, I didn't have many inhibitions to start with.

My cock was strapped to me so the illusion of femininity, if not the fact, was given to whoever chose to use me. The piercings in my cock were done in a manner not unlike a Gates of Hell so it was very easy to strap my cock in place. When they strapped my cock up it was done in such a way as to run the tie through the rings in my cock, up my belly to the rings in my nipples and through both nipple rings then back down to my cock. As such, any moment would have an effect on my cock as well as my nipples. Lucky for me I expected I would be fucking and sucking rather soon.

And I was right.

Here I was, now dressed like some combination of bondage slut and innocent schoolgirl with ponytails, and I was ready to be used. I no longer cared how many used me or how often, but rather I wanted, desired, needed, was actually becoming addicted to it and it made no difference whether it was long, hard, thick, pounding cock in me or whether I was forced to eat pussy repeatedly (though that no longer happens all that much).

It was slow and gradual, but eventually, after my initial capture I came to love what they did to me, to being their male slut to use and abuse and now I could not think of anything I would not do to possess them, to have their cocks hard and rampant crammed down my throat, to eat their every last drop of cum and beg for more. I craved humiliation as much as I craved cock and I helped my Masters with whatever they needed.