Bubble Gum Pop: Redux

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

Author's Note: This is a reworked version of a story I wrote years ago with the same name (minus the 'Redux'). While the first half has many, smaller, changes of its own I felt were necessary to create a preferred tone, the second half is brand new and, in my opinion, necessary to make a 'first chapter' feel complete, since I felt the last version ended prematurely (hardy har har). It also gives me a reason to start writing more for this story, so expect more to come (eventually).

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Alright, the recording has officially started. This is Nicole Scarlette recording the story of one Nick A. Stratton, the self-proclaimed perpetrator of the "Bubble Gum Pop" incident. Mr. Stratton, sir, do you willfully acknowledge these conditions?

"Of course, ma'am. And may I say, your tits are absolutely am-"

Fantastic. Then let's begin.

*****

If a grey box, let's say one foot by one foot, bounced off of the back of an equally grey van marked "FBI," what would you do? Let's also say it's relatively light, with probably about twenty or so smaller boxes shuffling around inside of it, perfectly symmetric on every side, and labeled only with "4zA1" in Times New Roman font. Would you try to flag down the car? Maybe you'd drop it off at the post office? Maybe you'd even just leave it there- someone would realize it's gone and pick it up anyway, right? If you answered 'Yes' to any of these, then you're obviously not the guy in question here. Because good ol' Nick here went ahead and did none of those things, and, hot damn, does that leave me with a story to tell you.

Now, let's not get mixed up with anything, here. When I say it "bounced off the back of the truck", that's exactly what I mean. It bounced off of a goddamn truck. No shady mafia dealings, no infiltrating Area 51, no sucking the President's dick-- some poor sap just didn't secure a latch or something. Even if you don't believe me, just know that this is coming from the same government that stores the launch codes for 4,018 nuclear missiles on motherfucking floppy disks for Christ's sake. I mean, I'm a man of tradition, myself, but c'mon. My tax dollars can pay for each and every one of those missiles, but not a goddamn $5 USB drive from Walmart?

Mr. Stratton, please, get back to the matter at hand. And please stop trying to look up my skirt.

Yeah, of course, of course- I just get sidetracked every now and then.

Anyway, that's how it happened. I finished an honest day's work digging graves at the Home when I decided to take a brisk 30 minute break. I mean, graves don't dig themselves, but I have a feeling that whoever I'm digging 'em for doesn't really care whether they end up on sacred ground or in touchy Uncle Al's basement. I mean, from what I've seen, dead people aren't really opinionated these days.

Mr. Stratton, could you please list your place of employment by name for the record?

Sure, if you unbutton your top two buttons.

I'll throw you back in jail faster than you can say "sexual harassment charges", Mr. Stratton.

Christ, I get it. I'm just having some fun here. It was Mortimer's Holy Home of Rest. Can I move on to the interesting part, now?

Sure.

Thank god. Anyway, I was taking a smoke when the situation I described earlier happened exactly like that. I jumped out into the road and picked up the box, bringing it back into the graveyard. No one's ever around anyway, Morty's is a place where people go to die with the special addition of being forgotten. Sitting down at the back of some rich guy's tomb stone, I decided to see what the good Lord hath provided for mine humble self. Alas, it was only bubble gum. Needless to say, I was pretty bummed, so I just pocketed a pack and put the rest in my locker.

A couple of hours later, I left for home. I mean, if you could call it "home." Aaliyah was always there these days, and I swear she'd leave my milk uncapped on purpo-

Who's Aaliyah?

Ah, right. Aaliyah's my roommate's girlfriend. Oh man, I gotta tell you this, 'On the record'; Aaliyah is absolutely banging, just a ten outta ten. Five-foot-five, black hair the color of Death's scythe, 28D tits, bright pink panties that always ride up her gorgeous heart-shaped ass, wicked tight yoga pants, and absolutely nothing going on upstairs. She's the perfect woman. Well, except for her personality. Total bitch. Like you wouldn't believe.

Anyway, when I got home I- well, you have the tape, right?

Yes, we were given your sex tape as a submission of evidence. For the purposes of this investigation, the legality of video taping this Aaliyah's activities will be overlooked for the near future.

Great, then go ahead and slam that big guy in there. Just don't be surprised at how great it feels.

That was a really poor attempt at a sex joke.

Well, you miss all the shots you don't take. Let's get on with it, yeah?

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April 17th, 2017.

Subject: Nick Stratton

Case #112981

Location: Arkwright, MI

Fruitlessly searching for my house keys in my jacket, I opened up every zipper. Completely empty. I weighed my options. I could either ask Aaliyah to get the door for me from inside, or start the five mile walk back to my locker at work. It was a tough choice. Right before making my trek back to work, I remembered that I was home much earlier than usual. Aaliyah would most likely only be wearing a tank top and booty shorts. And she never wore a bra in her home tank tops.

"Aaliyah! Hey, get over here! Open the door for me!" I shouted, knocking on the door. The response came very quickly.

"Damn it, Nick, stop leaving your fucking keys at work! You're annoying!" Ah, the sweet, sweet voice of the shocked and mostly undressed female. "You already owe me from last time. Why should I let you in now?"

Ugh. She was right. Searching for an answer, I dug into my pockets as if God himself had somehow provided me with a bargaining tool. Then, running my hand over the pack of gum, I realized He did.

"I stopped and picked you up some gum at the corner store one the way home to make up for it. This'll make us even, right?" I said. Opening the wooden door a crack, Aaliyah poked her head out to confirm. Despite having some bed head, Aaliyah always made sure she was wearing the perfect amount of make up. Glossy red lipstick, long dark eyelashes to complement emerald eyes, the perfect amount of blush on her cheeks...

"Hand it over, fuckwit."

But goddamn, that personality was something else.

I cautiously slid the gum through the crack, fearful that she may slam the door on my digits at any moment.

"You got the cheap shit, didn't you?"

"What? Of course not, that gum is practically priceless." Literally. No price. Free of charge.

I could hear the sound of unwrapping tinfoil as Aaliyah experimented with the first piece of gum. God, I hoped it wasn't nicotine or some shit.

Click.

"Fine. You can come in." She said.

Bursting through the door, I was welcomed by the delectable sight of Aaliyah in nothing but pink panties that hugged her ass in all the right ways, and a grey top that was so thin, the tips of her nipples poked out in the material, forming two muddled grey points on the ends of her beautiful tits.

"How's the gum?" I asked, genuinely curious. I had no idea what flavor that was; it could've been gunpowder for all I know.

Aaliyah's obnoxious chewing began to calm down as she started her response. "I don't think..." she said, "I've ever had anything with this taste before."

With every bite on the piece of grey gum in her mouth, Aaliyah's eyes slowly became more unfocused- as if she had stopped staring at me, and was now looking through me, into the next dimension.

"Hello? Earth to Aaliyah?" I said.

No response.

I slowly walked up to her, starting to fear that I gave her arsenic gum or something of the like.

"Aaliyah? Can you say something for me?" I said, waving my hand in front of her face.

Like a robot, she responded, "Something."

"Smartass. You had me worried there for a second. Are you feeling okay?"

Without skipping a beat, Aaliyah said "I feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact that you're home yet my boyfriend is not. I feel a bit hungry, since I'm on a diet. I feel really horny, since you came home while I was watching porn, and because it turns me on to tease you."

I inhaled in surprise at her third statement, sucking in my own spit down the wrong pipe. After calming down the coughing, I asked her, "are you joking?"

"No." Completely monotone.

"Well," I began, "what type of porn were you watching?"

"Domination porn."

"Is that because you want to be dominated?"

"Yes."

"Then get on your knees."

And to my surprise, the dazed Aaliyah took to her knees- a position that suited her well- on the carpet floor. From where I stood, the flimsy tank top she wore did nothing to conceal her ample breasts. Why even have it on at that point?

"Take off your shirt."

Without even blinking, Aaliyah pulled the skinny top off of her figure, revealing her massive tits. Her nipples, now free of the confining fabric, were even harder than I thought before.

"How do you feel now?" I asked.

"I feel slightly hungry. I feel distressed by the fact I keep obeying you. I also feel much hornier." She replied

"So you can comprehend what's happening?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you just walk away?"

"I can't. I don't know why."

This was going much farther than a prank. I quickly realized that the only consistent motion Aaliyah was taking was the chewing of the gum I gave her. I didn't really understand why, but I knew what I wanted to do.

I positioned myself right above Aaliyah, so that the crotch of my jeans directly touched her thick red lips. Reaching down, I pulled on her nips with more force than a loving partner would.

Whispering into her ear, I asked her once more, "How are you feeling now?"

"I'm more distressed than I ever have been. I have no idea what is happening, and I don't know how to stop it. My pussy is soaked and I want some dick."

"Well," I said, reaching down to pull on her cherry-red bottom lip with my thumb, "I should be able to fix at least one of those problems."

Standing back up straight, I pushed out my hips so that the thick outline of my dick in my jeans pushed up against her damp mouth.

"Undo my pants, and give me the best blowjob of your life."

Finally, there was slight hesitation. Aaliyah sat rigid on the floor in nothing but panties, sweating despite the coolness of the living room. The only way to know she was even alive was her chewing the gum. Then it hit me.

Reaching for the pack of chewing gum Aaliyah threw on the table, I unwrapped one of the pieces, pushing it up to her mouth.

"Chew." I said.

She locked her jaw for a moment, looking up at me with defiance in her eyes. I grabbed her cheeks in one hand and forced the gum in with the other. She chewed.

"Now, suck my dick."

The fight was over. Aaliyah was totally helpless and kneeling at my feet. Undoing my zipper, Aaliyah politely pulled out my cock, pushing it's girth into her mouth as she lowered it from my pants.

Bobbing her head back and forth on my cock, Aaliyah gave what was, I assume, one of the best blow jobs of her life. She snaked her tongue around the full length of my cock, licking it with a fervor I've only ever seen in sluts like the one kneeling in front of me.

Hoping to get a reaction out of her, I decided a little teasing was in order, saying "How do you like my cock? Is it better than your boyfriend's?" She tried to pop my cock out of her mouth to respond, but I just pushed her deeper onto my girth.

In between struggling breaths she finally responded, "I should hate it... even if... it's so much bigger than John's..."

That was exactly what I wanted to hear. "Make sure to swallow, whore!"

"Mmph!?"

With that, I blew my load into Aaliyah's mouth. Even though I held her head against my crotch, I had a feeling she wouldn't disobey me, anyway. But I didn't care. Forcing her mouth all the way down the length of my cock, I held her there for a good minute before releasing her.

Heaving from exhaustion and a lack of air, Aaliyah lied down on the ground of her own volition, too tired and shaken for words. Seeing her in her downed state, I swiftly grabbed another piece of gum from it's packet, unwrapped it of it's inconspicuous foil, leaned over her with a smile, and dropped it in. The gum fell right down into her esophagus, causing her to jump on her knees in a panic, coughing the gum back up into her mouth.

With the piece of wettened gum on her tongue, she looked up to me with her green eyes, as if to say "What now, master?"

And who was I to leave a lovely lady without an answer? I leaned over her once more, closing her open mouth with my hand.

"Nowchew."

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

END OF RECORDING

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

What happened next, Mr. Stratton?

Well, c'mon, it's not like you don't know. I wouldn't be here if you didn't.

We need it by you and in your words. You came to us, remember?

Fine, fine, I get it. Just don't get too horny- I don't have time to fuck you right now.

Mr. Stratton, I have a legal obligation to tell you that you're an asshole.

Christ, no more Ms. Nice Girl? Well, I kind of figured you had a naughty side....

[RECORDING ERROR, AUDIO NOT FOUND. RESUMING FROM CLOSEST UNCORRUPTED DATA.]

Christ that hurt, woman! I need those things to reproduce!

Mr. Stratton, I can assure you I have no idea what you're talking about. Now please, fill in the blanks for us. What happened after that?

Yeah, right. Well, here goes.

------------------------

April 17th, 2017.

Subject: Nick Stratton

Case #112981

Location: Arkwright, MI

I hated telling her to put her clothes on, but I was running out of time. As Aaliyah threw her tight tank top back on, I gave her nipples one more good pinch, making them peek through the thin white cotton. She didn't say anything, and she didn't move an inch, but I knew that she was feeling all of it. Her eyes were relaxed with a sort of apathy, but I could tell by her lusty breathing she was enjoying every moment of it.

I checked my phone for the time, but I noticed something-- I must have hit record on my phone while I was looking for my keys on the way home. I'd shelve that for later, I had bigger problems for the moment.

It was 4:58 P.M. I only had a couple minutes until John- both my friend and Aaliyah's boyfriend- got home. I had to think fast.

"Slut," I said to her, the strength of authority booming through my voice, "As soon as John gets home, you will act as if nothing has changed since you saw him this morning. Give him no reason to believe that you are currently in this state. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Said she.

"Now put on some thicker clothes, we can't let him think you spent the afternoon with me while you're dressed like that."

"Yes." And she put on a cheap red sweatshirt, only straining as she pulled it over her tits.

"Uh," I said, "you should probably put on some pants, too."

She looked down at herself before acquiescing once more.

Huh. Interesting. It seemed that, no matter how much gum she had, Aaliyah was still pretty air-headed. I guess even Uncle Sam can't fix stupid.

"Anyway, start some dinner or something. John and I are gonna be hungry."

"Of course." And with that, she left to the kitchen.

It wasn't a few minutes after Aaliyah had put spaghetti on that John came home. He entered in through the front door as he always did; he sighed, closed his eyes for a minute, opened them back up again, and put his keys and ID on the end table. Twenty minutes later, we were all sitting in the dining room, eating under a plastic chandelier with seven bright light bulbs and one dim one.

"The goddamned forewoman's been all over my ass again today." He said, rubbing the scruff of his beard. "She wants me to work late again tomorrow."

"She needs to get laid or something." I said. "Hey, get me her number sometime, yeah?"

"Yeah, right, man. We all figured she had her pussy sealed shut in a freak concrete mixing accident-- not that I wouldn't mind opening it with the 'company drill,'" he said, laughing loud enough to give me a mild headache. To his right, I saw Aaliyah shake her head slightly. I didn't like her one bit, but I don't have any trouble admitting that John could be a royal prick sometimes. "Hey, honey," he said, looking over to his silently tortured girlfriend, "pop in some Texas toast, I'm gonna hit the can. And, Jesus, don't burn it this time"

"Sure thing, babe." She replied. I didn't need mind-controlling chewing gum to draw a bead on how she might've been feeling.

Standing up, John went to the bathroom, leaving my little slut and I alone. She played with her food, pretending to eat.

"Are you not hungry?" I asked her.

"I am," she said, dazed, "but I don't feel like eating. I feel sick to my stomach."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'm depressed, horny, and depressed about being horny. You turned me on, but John's being an ass and shouldn't get any dick from him if he's acting this way, it'll enourage him." She kept looking down at her plate. "Besides, I'm chewing gum."

Ah, right. I clicked my tongue. "Fine, fine. Let me think of something." Grabbing a two more sticks of gum from my pocket, I started cutting them up into gnat-sized pieces. Hearing the bathroom door open from down the hall, I quickly scattered half into John's spaghetti. Then, I put the other half into the sauce bowl.

Turning the corner just as I sat back down, John sat back down and looked around the table expectantly. "Liyah. Why isn't the Texas toast heating?"

Aaliyah snapped out of her haze and looked at me, then the table, then John. "Oh. I'll go ahead and do that."

"Damn right." John scoffed. He must have seen that I was eyeing his spaghetti, because he went in for a bite and stopped when he saw me looking. "Something the matter?"

"Hm? Oh, I was just thinking about--" about how great your girlfriend's tits feel " about your forewoman. You really should give me her number."

"I'll think about it." Saying this, John took a bite of his spaghetti and paused. His expression was distant.

"You should give your forewoman my number." I said, my tone commanding. Thank God for magic government gum, and for the sorry taxpayer that couldn't send there kid to college so I could use it.

"Don't tell me what to do." John barked back.

Oh.

"Did you do something to my goddamn dinner?" He continued. "It tastes funny. Do you know how hard I work to pay for two-thirds of this goddamn place just so I can have someone make me dinner?"

Aaliyah, laying some slices of Texas toast on a pan, cringed behind him. I swallowed. "I didn't do anything to your food. Here, just trade with me."

John raised an eyebrow and reached across the table...

...and grabbed the sauce bowl, instead.

"You were class clown in high school. I bet you fucked with your own just to make me take a second bite." John took the spoon out of the sauce bowl and brought it to his lips. Immediately, he pinched his eyebrows together and frowned.

"See?" I said. "I didn't mess with your food. The sauce probably just tastes funny."

"You're right. Babe! How'd you fuck up spaghetti sauce?"

That was the spaghetti noodle that broke the camel's back, and Aaliyah spun around in place and pointed the knife she was cutting bread with at him. "You come in here talking about wanting to fuck your boss,you yell at me for not having your damn bread baked in the thirty seconds it takes for that little dick of yours to take a piss, thenyou don't even want to eat your own girlfriend's food after I haven't seen you all day?"