Backdoor Program

Author's Notes: I had some difficulty getting this through moderation, as apparently the rule is that characters are not supposed to even know sex exists before they turn 18. So if the protagonist's sexual preferences seem to come out of nowhere, well, that's the way the cookie crumbles on Literotica.

A head's up to readers of my last crossdresser piece that this one is a full-on story, meaning there will be considerable setting of the scene before the "fun bits" happen. In addition this one is a bit of a period piece, taking place in the late 1990s. This mostly affects the references to computer tech, which will seem totally odd to those who don't remember the era. None of this really matters to the story itself, though, I just mention it for those who notice and are bothered. In a similar vein, "subliminal suggestion" doesn't work in the real world the way it does in the story, sorry if you're disappointed by that.

I suppose I should also mention that while I decided to use first person in writing this, the protagonist/narrator is NOT the author, and I have not had the experiences the protagonist ends up having

Disclaimer: The following is a piece of fiction. Fiction (in case you don't know) means it's made up, not real, a bunch of lies. The characters in the story are all fictional too, meaning they don't exist. While non-existent, if they existed and had an age they would be over 18.

Furthermore, since the characters aren't real they can't possibly be harmed by the stuff they do or that happens to them in the story. This would not be true in reality, meaning you should not think you can do the same things safely, legally, or ethically in real life. Just because bullets bounce off Superman (he's fictional) that doesn't mean they're going to bounce off you, got it? If you believe that the things fictional characters do in a pornographic story are a valid guide to behavior in the real world, then you have much bigger psychological problems than a story could ever cause and you should stop reading this and seek medical help immediately.

Even if I wanted to blame everything that happened on Calvin, I couldn't in perfect honesty do that. If you look at the facts the whole sordid affair started years before he was ever born.

As an eighteen-year-old I had thoughts about homosexuality, but it was never my primary sexual fantasy, or to my mind even a major one, just kind of a sideline kink. Like most guys I wanted to screw girls, and I occasionally succeeded. It wasn't that I was a lady's man by any means. I was never buff, tall, craggily handsome, or rich enough to be a "chick magnet" as some lucky guys were. But they say even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in awhile, and my efforts were awarded with enough pussy to keep me from thinking of myself as a total loser or seriously consider "switching teams."

I reached the last half of twenties still single and without a steady girlfriend, never having found a woman with whom I wanted to have a long-term relationship. I was doing well enough at my job by this point to buy a "fixer-upper" house, and that's when I first met Calvin.

Not that this meant anything to me at the time. He was in the middle of adolescence, a thin kid with spindly arms and thick glasses, the gawky and geeky only child of my next-door neighbors. We didn't have any sort of relationship, he was merely the nerdy son of the people in the next house over, one of the neighbors I knew only in passing.

Now, like a lot of younger single guys, particularly ones who don't have a regular sex partner, I spent a fair amount of my time watching porn. In my early days as an adult I had rented porn videos (at actual adult video stores, which were a big thing back then) and was always a particular fan of anal sex porn. In addition I had long been curious about those "shemale" videos, though I was never been brave enough to rent one. (See, in those days you had to take the video you wanted to the counter and show what you had picked out to the clerk in order to pay for it. Talk about embarrassing!)

Skip ahead a couple years to the time I bought the house however and the Internet had become so popular that non-technical people like me were going online in droves. The major thing this meant as far as I was concerned is that a cornucopia of every sort of porn imaginable became available to me. Without anyone knowing (or so I thought) I could watch anything I wanted right in my own home. Before long I was consuming large amounts of shemale porn alongside the straight variety.

This in turn revived my dormant desire for ass play. I soon bought myself a small "anal" vibrator from an online store. This turned out to be so easy to do and so anonymous (I believed) that pretty soon I had collected an assortment of a half-dozen vibes and dildos. Following this I accumulated a small wardrobe of female lingerie in my size, including panties, crotchless pantyhose, garters and stockings, babydolls, even a corset, all merely to enhance my solitary masturbatory sessions since I had no intention of wearing that shit in public. I added some basic bondage equipment to my toy chest as well, tie-downs and handcuffs, gags and cock-rings. Not to use on others, just on myself during my games.

Now, I don't want you to think this sort of thing was all I did to get off. In point of fact I was only using the sex toys and lingerie occasionally, maybe once a month, though I would masturbate watching shemale or transvestite porn without using all the paraphernalia more often than that. But in the same time span I would far more often masturbate while watching "normal" male-female porn, with a preference for anal sex and bondage situations though sometimes I went for less kinky stuff. Since I used "straight" porn for my satisfaction most of the time and shemale-centered porn less frequently I still considered myself nothing but purely heterosexual. A bit kinky, sure, but completely straight.

A couple more years passed. I was in my early thirties, dating less than before but still hoping to (someday, somehow) meet Ms. Right. Calvin at this point was a senior in high school, eighteen years old but just as gawky and geeky as ever.

When I was on the Internet I liked to use my laptop in my upstairs bedroom, but my cable internet connection only went to the main floor. I'd therefore been an early adopter of wi-fi and had a wireless network at home. I was vaguely aware that wi-fi could be hacked, but it seemed like such an unlikely thing to happen to me that I never worried about it.

Early one Friday evening I noticed that my laptop was acting funny. I was getting weird error messages and stuff. I was thinking about how and when to bring it to a repair shop when the doorbell rang. I went to the door and there's Calvin, who's now taller than me but as usual hunched like Quasimodo and looking everywhere but at my eyes.

"Um, hi, Mr. J- - - -, uh, I, um, guess I tossed a, um, a frisbee into your yard," he muttered.

I was surprised because Calvin was the quintessential nerd who avoided physical activity like the plague. Maybe his mom kicked him out of the house to get some sun, I mused. I let him in, and as I did inspiration struck.

"Hey, Calvin, I'm having a little trouble with my laptop. Do you think you could take a look at it?" I figured if I could get the neighborhood computer geek to correct the issue, whatever it is, I won't need to pay to get it fixed.

"Sure, no problem," he said, pushing his glasses back on his nose and instantly brightening up, though still not looking at me directly.

We go upstairs to my bedroom (all my sex toys and things are hidden, I did sometimes bring a woman home from a singles bar though not often). Once Calvin is at the keyboard he's completely at home, rapidly opening and closing windows as I watched.

He glanced up at me and immediately looked away again. "Uh, this might take a while. Do you think I could get a glass of ice water?"

I went downstairs to get it. When I came back up Calvin was typing away like mad into some window I didn't recognize. As soon as I get near he closed it.

"All finished, it wasn't as hard as I thought," he now mumbled, ignoring the offered glass in my hand. "Well, guess I ought to be going."

"Hey, don't forget your frisbee," I said.

He blinked, looking startled. "Oh, right. Yeah, I better get that."

He went into my backyard and retrieved the red disc, which oddly enough was leaning against the fence between our yards. It's hard to figure out how it had flown to that position, it looked more like somebody had just dropped it over the fence. I shrugged, attributing it to Calvin's lack of sports ability. Like a said, a classic nerd.

Whatever Calvin did seemed to fix the problems with my laptop, though, so I quickly forgot the incident (at least, I did till much later, when it was too late). I did a little surfing before I fixed myself dinner. Afterward I ate I grabbed a beer and retreated upstairs, planning to watch some porn and jerk off before bed.

I clicked the bookmark for one of my favorite (straight) porn sites, but the page seemed to take an especially long time to load. Suddenly a new window opened and a video started playing. It was an anal sex scene out of a vid I especially liked and had watched several times before, but it had a new soundtrack of fast, pounding music that overlaid the moans and dirty talk of the original.

It seemed odd to me that this came on essentially by itself, but as I said, it was a scene I enjoyed so I kept watching. The part I knew cut off abruptly after a few minutes, segueing straight into a different anal scene I'd never seen but accompanied by the same pounding soundtrack.

This sort of thing continued for about twenty minutes, relatively quick cuts from various porn videos, some familiar to me, some but not all involving anal sex. As far as I could tell the only link between them was the new music that played in the background. I found myself getting into it, and was rather disappointed when the compilation finally ended.

As the video ended a new page appeared in its place, headlined "CandiLand." It was one of those overly-busy web pages with loads of animations and flashing words and things, stuff I'd always found irritating rather than compelling. Luckily there was one particularly large flashing box near the center which read, "See More, Free!" I barely hesitated before clicking it.

A new video of the same sort came up, a collection of clips backed by a new but still very driving, rhythmic soundtrack. This time after starting with some straight anal scenes it went on to clips of men fucking shemales. Once again I recognized some of the clips as being from videos I had watched in the past. When this one ended I immediately hit the "more" box again, and was treated to yet another of these compilations.

By the middle of the third video my cock was so hard it was almost painful, despite the fact I had barely touched it. I stroked myself and quickly had a strong orgasm, shooting a big load that required a lot of kleenex to mop up. Sighing in satisfaction I set "CandiLand" as a bookmark. I usually liked porn with at least a little dialogue, but this sort certainly made for a nice change and I was sure I'd want to visit again.

The next evening I felt like jerking off again. The stuff from the night before had me feeling like I wanted some shemale porn, so I chose one of those sites from my bookmark list. At least I thought I had, because what came up was "CandiLand," and immediately a video started playing. I was going to close the window but this compilation seemed to be entirely about shemales, and since that was what I wanted anyway I kept watching. The next three of the videos after that were also all shemale, and I reached another big orgasm.

That night I actually dreamed about watching the videos from the site (and being in them at the same time, in the crazy way stuff like that happens in dreams), and woke up in the darkness with a very stiff prick. I ignored it and turned over to go back to sleep, though in the morning I had the feeling that the dream resumed after I drifted off.

"CandiLand" became my new favorite porn site, in fact the only one I really used. I would sometimes visit one of the others but would always find myself craving the pounding beat and quick cuts characteristic of the CandiLand porn. The videos on the site were so hot and so compelling that I found myself watching them and masturbating every night before I went to sleep.

The site itself seemed very odd as there was never anything clickable but the "More" box, which invariably opened one of the special videos. There were no ads, no membership come-ons, no way to choose what you wanted to see. The videos sometimes repeated, and sometimes a "new" video was actually just parts of older ones recombined in a new way with a different soundtrack. Sometimes I thought I heard something being said underneath the music (something other than the moans and screams and dirty talk of the original clips that is) but no matter how I adjusted the volume I could never quite understand the words.

As I spent more time watching I came across some videos which included scenes that weren't pure sex. Women (or shemales) just posing for the camera, or putting on lingerie or makeup, or smiling at men before leading them into bedrooms or toward couches or chaise lounges (in one memorable case leading the guy involved by his hard cock). There were also scenes of bondage and spanking, with or without sex involved.

One thing I noted was that there were never scenes where the man sucked or was fucked by the shemale, something common in a lot of shemale porn I'd seen. I had to admit that I was happy this was the case as I had never found those parts nearly as interesting as the ones where it was the shemale sucking and being fucked.

As time went by I was also feeling more and more like engaging in anal play and dress-up games. But at the same time I felt like I needed to watch the CandiLand videos. The solution was obvious once I thought of it; I would just move the laptop to where I could see it while I played with a vibrator.

That night this was exactly what I did, starting up a video then doffing my clothes and slipping on lingerie in front of the computer. In fact I did a little striptease, as if the computer screen were an audience, and felt very sexy and naughty doing it. Then I vibed my anus while staring at the videos. I reached an absolutely immense orgasm, one that left me breathless.

After that I started doing this sort of thing frequently. It got to the point where if I didn't feel like screwing myself with a dildo I would at least slip a buttplug in and put on panties before I started watching porn.

I found myself getting deeper and deeper into submissive sex fantasies. Sometimes I would tie myself up before inserting the vibrator or plug, all while watching "CandiLand." I ordered more lingerie and a ring-gag, the latter because there had been a video featuring girls wearing them which turned me on a lot.

At times (particularly when I wasn't at home and away from my laptop) I would decide this had to stop, that I had gone too far. For one thing I now barely ever thought about dating women, all I could fantasize about was submissive sex with a man. I even dreamt about being a woman who was having sex with a man, very vivid dreams that sometimes woke me up with my cock painfully hard.

I wasn't sure I liked what was happening to me, which is why I had the thoughts about stopping. But my resolve to put a hold on dressing up and to quit visiting CandiLand would melt away whenever I entered my bedroom and saw my laptop there.

The next stage was reached on a Saturday afternoon in early spring. My CandiLand session the night before had left me strangely unsatisfied, as if there was something more I needed to do. I found myself drawn to the laptop, turned it on and fired up CandiLand. Watching the video I found myself feeling strange, almost like I was floating.

On impulse I got up from the computer, went downstairs to the kitchen and unlocked the door to my backyard before I returned back upstairs where the video was still playing. I resumed watching, then a few minutes later I rose again and almost in a trance began bringing out my hidden stash of lingerie and bondage gear, something I almost never did during daylight hours. I put on my corset, a babydoll, and crotchless pantyhose. Following this I inserted a buttplug, put some lacy panties on, and put in a ballgag.

Then I pulled out my "play bed" (a low padded bench). After placing my laptop on the floor in front where I would be able to see it and got my bondage things ready.

A long time before in the course of my games I found I way I could handcuff myself and feel helpless but still be able to get free later without bothering with ice or time-locks. I had a very long nylon cord in my toy kit and I would pass it through the loop at the end of the handcuff key without tying a knot. Putting the key across the room I would slip the other end of the cord under one of the cuffs, then when I wanted to unlock myself I could get the cord into a hand and draw the key to myself. The gimmick was that I had to do it slowly, since jerking the cord could make it come free of the key and would leave me stranded and helpless. It was a neat little trick to make it seem more "risky" and real, I was very proud of thinking it up.

That was exactly what I did next, putting the key down and paying out the cord. I proceeded to tie myself in place on the bench, passing cords around my thighs to fasten them to the legs of the bench, then a belt that held my torso flat against the seat. I should mention I did this while keeping the screen of the laptop in view as much as possible, I felt compelled to keep my eyes on the video.

Finally I cuffed my hands behind my back. There I was, nearly helpless, tied to the bench while watching images of shemales getting fucked. My cock was rigid and I was so turned on that it was actually leaking pre-cum, though of course I couldn't touch it.

I laid there on the bench, pretty much writhing in lust, when I heard something that wasn't the pounding soundtrack. Something that sounded like someone inside my house. My mind flashed to the fact that, for reasons I couldn't explain, I had unlocked the back door to my house.

I froze and tried to hear what was going on downstairs despite the music from my laptop. A few seconds later I'd become certain there was someone coming up the stairs, and even though I was still feeling half-dazed I scrabbled for the cord and started drawing the key toward me, faster probably than was safe considering the need to be careful to keep the key attached.

It was still too slow. In the mirror above my dresser I saw the bedroom door swing open. Framed in it was a tall man dressed in black and wearing a Halloween devil mask.

I shouted for help, but due to the gag it came out as a muffled groan. The guy stepped out of view of the mirror, but I felt him pluck the cord I was desperately winding up from my fingers. Now I truly was helpless!

My eyes darted around but kept getting drawn back to the computer screen. In the video playing a woman tied over a chair was being fucked hard to the pounding beat. My mind was bewildered by how close this was to my own situation, especially because the intruder at this point was mauling my pantied bottom. He pawed my lower cheeks while at the same I heard him unzipping his trousers.

The masked man yanked down my panties and pulled the buttplug out. I was not left empty for long, within seconds I felt a warm, blunt object pressed at my already stretched and lubricated asshole. There was only one thing this object could be, and I tried again to scream past the gag to no avail.