Chester

I came to, loose-limbed and groggy. My head and mouth felt like they were stuffed with cotton, and my eyelids didn't want to stay open.

I'd taken my last midterm and celebrated with a six-pack of beer. I'd done a sixer before. Easily. This wasn't a hangover feeling. It was something different, something worse.

When I tried to rub my eyes, I discovered my first problem. My arms wouldn't move.

I blinked rapidly, trying to bring my vision into focus, and jolted--adrenaline punching through me.

I was naked. And tied to a chair. What the fuck.

Thick leather cuffs strapped my arms and legs to the hefty wooden chair. The straps were wide and buckled, tight enough that I couldn't even wiggle.

Thin wooden slats bit into the back of my thighs. Only, a few slatted supports were missing, enough to leave my dick hanging in mid-air and my ass fully exposed.

Jerking and twisting got me nothing but future bruises. I was truly stuck.

Failing that, I turned my attention to the room. Gray walls. Linoleum floor. A rolling stool, only a few feet away from me. A bed sat in the far corner, taking up most of the wall.

That was it, aside from the cameras.

One was mounted high in the corner, covering the bed and the chair. The other was between my ankles, pointing up under the chair. At my cock and ass, I guessed.

I was going to die. This was some kind of porno snuff film. Fuck.

Panic bit at my mind until my roommate Chester came into view. He wandered into the room, staring at his ever-present tablet, and absently closed the door behind him.

I called for his help, though it came out in a squawk past the gag over my mouth.

Chester glanced up from his tablet, blinking at me. I expected shock and a rush to help me. Something. Anything.

Instead, he smiled. "Oh, good. You're awake."

Fuck.

For the last five months, Chester had been renting me a room in his three-bedroom house. I was paying next to nothing, and I was messy. But he'd never complained.

Probably because he was a freak.

I'd had girls over a few times, but between busting my ass at my baseball practices and my classes, I just didn't have much time.

Chester, though--Chester maintained a revolving door of twinky little guys filtering through on any given day of the week.

While working through dual majors of behavioral science and biochemistry, he fucked them endlessly.

I wasn't the greatest student to begin with, but it was a million times harder to study when all I could hear were moans and heavy panting breaths and pathetic whimpering through the thin walls.

For hours at a time. Literally.

Chester was no great looker, so he must have had a monster dick and the stamina of a marathon runner because they kept coming back.

Now I knew why the rent was so cheap. Chester was some kind of pervert who supplemented his income by filming nonconsensual murder porn.

"Brad," Chester said, tapping away at his tablet. "My usual subjects are too busy, and I really need to make some progress on this project. So you're going to help me out. And in return, I'm going to help you pass your chemistry class."

I screamed at him through the gag, but the words "Untie me, you asshole!" came out a garbled mess.

Chester tipped his head like he was taking a moment to decipher it. "Oh. Sorry. Restraints are a necessary part of the study. Can't be avoided, I'm afraid. It's a study of the male prostate orgasm, you see? Sometimes the amount of stimulation I need to provide for my subjects can be...overwhelming, to put it frankly. So the restraints stay."

What?

My eyes widened. A study. Prostate orgasms. Twinky guys getting fucked at all hours of the day. His "usual subjects."

Oh, hell no!

I was not going to be part of some fucking experiment. However, I was relieved to hear he wasn't planning on serial killing me.

"I'm not gay," I spluttered.

Chester scowled, clearly having no issue parsing through the muffled statement. "Inconsequential. Don't be such an ignoramus. That's the point of the study. Straight, gay, bi...doesn't matter. I'm going to train you to come on a cock regardless."

"Like hell I will, you pervert!"

Chester set the tablet down on the stool and came over to crouch by my side. "Sorry. Didn't quite understand that one. Anyway, I'm a little behind schedule, so we're going to get started. Don't be alarmed. I aspire to the most rigorous of safety standards. Nothing we do here today will put you at risk. Physically, anyway."

Something nudged at my rear entrance, and I jolted, swearing violently at Chester. He grinned.

"It's one finger," he said. "Relax. Breathe through it."

His finger squirmed inside past the ring of muscle, tugging and sliding. I jerked and writhed, trying to escape it.

Chester tutted, using his free hand to cinch the strap across my hips tighter.

One finger became two, adding a slight burn with each rhythmic intrusion.

I grunted, my whole body tense, but nothing helped. Chester continued to finger me, and all I could do was take it.

The aching burn faded, leaving only raw sensation behind. It was...odd. I didn't want to like it, but it felt vaguely nice. Like the boneless feel-good that came when doing the first big stretch upon waking. Like it could be adjacent to something that turned me on.

"Get ready, Brad," Chester murmured. His fingers slid in, slightly deeper this time, and crooked until they hit something that made me take notice.

I blew air out of my nose, trying to buck and shift the chair. It must have been bolted to the floor because his fingers jabbed and swirled and rubbed at the same damn spot no matter what I did.

It started as a flutter--little frissons of pleasure here and there past the overwhelming sensations.

I squirmed and grunted and tried to think of disgusting things. Nothing helped. Liquid heat built between my legs.

"I'm frigging your prostate," Chester said like he was talking about the weather. "Some men don't like the sensation. Most do."

I liked it. Fuck, I liked it.

Every time he hit it, electric shockwaves zipped through my gut, making my toes curl and my heart race.

He let out a low chuckle, flicking my free-hanging semi with a painful sting. "Seems like you're in the camp that does. However, most men can't come from this alone, so today is a baseline examination to see how sensitive you are to prostate play."

He worked me over for a while. It felt like an out-of-body experience--one part disgusting, another part exhilarating. I should have been fighting harder, making him stop. But I was helpless, and he was playing my body like a master musician.

Chester added another finger to the mix, stretching me wide. I pulsed around his fingers sometimes, unable to stop and hating that he could feel it, too.

He pulled his fingers out, leaving me empty and almost wistful. Something metallic scraped against the floor, and I twisted, trying to see what.

Chester squirted lube straight into my ass, getting a startled yelp from me before something cold nudged up against my rim.

A gentle metallic whir sounded behind me, and the cold, hard thing nudged just inside my ass. It was bigger than his fingers, with none of the easy glide. Despite the lube, the burn was so sharp and hot that tears formed in my eyes. I choked back whimpers against the gag, yanking against the leather straps to no avail.

Chester swiped the tears from under my eyes with his thumb and patted my shoulder. "It's your first dildo, so I'll go slow, okay?"

I bellowed into my gag, calling him every sort of filthy name I could think of.

The dildo moved, nudging forward again. It wasn't Chester pushing it in, though. He came around and took a seat on the stool, wiping his hands off before setting his tablet on his knees and watching me.

The length continued to tunnel in, shoving my insides open in one slow, conquering drive. Just when I thought I couldn't take anymore, Chester typed something on his tablet, and the dildo reversed course just as slowly. The tip caught my rim again, stopping momentarily.

"No," I moaned into the gag, finally realizing my predicament. A machine. He'd tied me up to some kind of fucking machine.

Chester watched me impassively, finger poised over his screen.

I didn't give him the satisfaction of another reaction.

His finger tapped once.

The slow whir resumed, and the dildo pushed back in, parting my guts like they were the Red Sea. Fucking biblical. Unstoppable. Relentless.

The ache took a back burner to the alternating feelings of being stretched impossibly full followed by a hesitant collapse when the dildo pulled out.

After a few more cycles, it actually felt kind of...okay. That was messed up.

The machine fucked me slowly as time crawled by. My dick had gone soft after the first penetration.

It stayed that way. I could tell that disappointed Chester.

He eyed it with a frown, tapping away at his stupid fucking tablet. After another few minutes, he disappeared behind me again.

The dildo stopped with just the tip inside me, and sudden metallic clicks made me shudder. The soft purr of the machine kicked back up, sending the dildo inching back in even more slowly.

Something had changed, though. The angle. He'd changed angles, and the next forward march of hard silicone rubbed hard over my prostate.

I grunted and stiffened, trying to keep my ass from clamping down.

"Ah," Chester said, dropping back into the stool in front of me. "That's what I thought. Apologies. I miscalculated before. Let's try this again, shall we?"

He tapped his finger definitively on the tablet.

The dildo plunged in slightly faster, stroking across my prostate with unerring accuracy. I couldn't stop the noise that broke from my chest.

"Excellent," Chester murmured, his finger tapping the screen three more times in rapid succession.

The machine picked up speed, never noisier than a gentle hum as it railed in and out, fast and hard and hitting that perfect place inside me.

The feeling came back. The good one. Like a heating coil made of pure pleasure was slowly coming up to temperature, deep in my gut.

My skin felt hot and cold all at once, my heart racing madly as if trying to escape my chest. Despite my best efforts, my dick started responding.

Chester noted it with a nod and a few taps on his screen. "Interesting."

The tip of the dildo smashed my prostate like a gamer spamming an arcade button. It was endless and so horribly good. The mechanical fucking didn't even hurt that much anymore, pain mixing with the pleasure until they became one unbearable sensation.

Heat in my groin continued to build, and my balls ached something fierce. I was hard and leaking, but I couldn't come.

The haunted begging and wanton moans I'd heard at all hours of the day made so much more sense. He did this to them. Kept them wanting like this. Made them beg.

I was riding the edge, unable to tip over.

Chester watched with hooded eyes. He set his tablet aside, hand disappearing down the front of his pants.

I sweated and groaned, biting back the pathetic words trying to leak out of my mouth. All the while, Chester jerked off with lazy tugs.

It went on. And on. And on.

My hips and lower back ached from the angle of the chair, but I was so strung out on a tightrope of pleasure that I barely noticed.

Sometimes my legs started shaking uncontrollably and my balls tightened, like I was coming, but it never fully happened.

"Please," I mumbled finally.

Chester smirked, pulling his hand out of his pants long enough to walk over and tug my gag out. "What was that, Brad?"

"Please," I gasped. "Please let me go. I need to come. I need to. Just let me go, or...or...help me come."

Chester clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "Oh, Brad. You know...I would help you come, but you're not gay, remember?"

"Just let me fucking come," I bellowed, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes. My legs started vibrating, and I strained at the leather straps holding me down, so awash in burning pain-pleasure that I could barely breathe.

Chester's smile turned predatory. "Say I can fuck you."

I blinked and moaned, the endless sensations eating away at my sanity. "What?"

"Say I can fuck you, and I'll help you come." He crouched, gripping my jaw with hard fingers so I couldn't look away. "I'm going to pound your ass into tomorrow, Brad. And you're going to love it. So ask me to do it."

"Just let me go," I pleaded.

"No."

Time stretched, my vision going long and disjointed like I was staring over the edge of a precipice to the ground far below. Another wave of almost orgasm washed over me, and I couldn't take it any longer.

"Fuck me," I said, humiliation bringing pricks of tears to my eyes.

Chester cupped his ear. "Missing a few words, I think."

"Please fuck me," I gritted out.

Chester loosened the restraint on my left hand, holding the tablet within reach. "Sign here."

A form filled the screen, not that I could read it through my fuzzy vision. Chester pointed to a blank line and tapped it until an empty white box opened up.

I dragged my pointer finger across it in a fair approximation of my signature.

He swiped to a new page and clicked open the box. "And here."

Alarm crept through me as my parents' warnings to never sign anything I hadn't read blared loudly in the forefront of my mind.

I scrunched my eyes closed before blinking rapidly, trying to focus on the words even as the dildo repeatedly strummed against my prostate.

"It's a standard consent to participate in my study, during which you will be recorded for strictly academic purposes," Chester explained, perhaps seeing my hesitation. "And a non-disclosure agreement. I can't very well have you run off to the Dean and cry 'rape' every time I take you."

Every time. As in, he expected this to happen again.

What. The. Fuck.

I dropped my hand to the chair, white-knuckling the armrest through another round of shaking and pleasure. Maybe I could do it without him. Without signing.

Chester reached under the chair, cupping and massaging my balls. I'd never really liked that before, but it just added to the myriad of sensations. "Be a good boy and sign, Brad. Then I'll let you come."

The almost-orgasm went away, leaving me with the sharp grind against my prostate and the endless thrusting.

It felt good. All of it. The delicious sensation of being stretched and pumped into. Just...good.

But not enough to make me come.

I signed.

Chester put the tablet away, snugged my gag back into place, and made a show of squirting a little lube into one hand. His fingers closed over my cock, dragging from root to tip. He stroked and rubbed, maddeningly gentle. It wasn't nearly the pressure I wanted.

It didn't matter. I could feel the big O coming a mile off, like the ebb of water before a tsunami crashed in. My legs started shaking again, driven to vibration through the sheer amount of stimulation.

A few strokes later, Chester leaned in, his breath whispering over the shell of my ear. "Come for me, Brad."

And I did.

My body seized up like I was struck with a live wire. Cum spurted. Once, twice, three times. I lost count, my dick twitching and jerking wildly inside his hand.

Even as I was shaking apart in the midst of it, Chester kept stroking and the machine kept pounding.

My vision went hazy, and my head nearly fell off. It felt so fucking good.

Seconds, minutes.

I was lost, and the potent wash of hormones swirling through my brain kept me spasming and shooting as lightning crackled along my nerves.

The machine drew to a halt, and I sagged in the chair, suddenly released from the churn but unable to move other than great, heaving breaths.

My cock twitched inside Chester's light grip. He thumbed the crown in a gentle circle, but it was still enough to make me whimper.

"That was some great footage," he said, very clearly to himself. "I can't wait to watch that again."

When he caught me staring, his cheeks flushed. "For academic purposes," he said quickly.

Yeah, I bet.

I hated him. I fucking hated him with everything inside me.

Chester unlocked the restraints, muscling me up with a strength his pudgy body shouldn't have had.

He dragged me over to the bed and deposited me face down with my ass hanging out. My body had turned into a limp noodle, and I couldn't have fought him off even if I wanted to.

Fingers pressed more lube into my hole, rubbing around and sliding inside with minimal resistance.

He notched my hips up, his jeans grating against the back of my thighs. Then I heard his zipper.

Galvanized by the sound, I strained my neck around, trying to catch a glimpse of his cock.

Chester tutted, smacking my ass hard. "Face forward, Brad."

I complied, letting my face drop against the soft sheets.

Something big and warm nudged at my entrance, spearing in.

I moaned.

Chester rocked his hips, bumping inside with slow thrusts. A strange pressure started in my gut as he kept feeding his length into me.

Finally, I felt his hips against my ass. He held there a moment, fully seated inside me. I tried to take a breath and failed, feeling like his dick was somehow shoved up against my diaphragm.

A slow withdrawal started, making my hole burn and twitch.

Chester squirted more lube into my crack, letting it run down and drip over my balls. His hand roamed, brushing over my hip and stroking my cock once.

"Interesting," he murmured, pushing back inside.

I squirmed and moaned, feeling like he was splitting me in two. It hurt, kind of. Not nearly as much as the dildo had in the beginning. But he felt wider and longer, and it fucking burned.

Chester pulled out and drove in, starting a steady pace of long strokes. His hips shoved against mine, hard enough that his balls slapped into me.

Chester tugged at the gag, maybe tightening it or making sure it was still in place. "Get ready, Brad. We're going to get started."

I'd been under the impression that we were already going at it. I was wrong.

Chester gripped my hips and fucked the ever-loving shit out of me.

In hindsight, the most disturbing thing was how much I liked it. I couldn't get hard, not after what he'd done to me, but somewhere along the way, the mix of sensations started feeling good.

I'd been right, about my marathon-stamina guess. About the monster cock guess, too. It felt like I was on the receiving end of a never-ending jackhammer.

He drove me up some kind of fucked up mountain of sensations, in starbursts and electric jolts, as he plundered my bruised prostate. At the top, I could feel my insides convulsing, like I was trapped in a constant orgasm even though nothing happened.

I tried to tell him it was too much, too hard, but the words wouldn't even form. He was literally fucking me senseless.

Sweat coated me, and I'd devolved into a puddle of whimpers and moans by the time he came inside me. I felt the weird pulsing warmth, and he just rocked for a while.

I hissed as he pulled out, the sharp ache returning with the movement. Chester just grunted, rolling me onto my back.

"Hold," he ordered, nearly bending me in half as he pressed my knees into my hands.

When I didn't comply, he clambered half onto the bed at my side and scooped my legs in one circled arm, bending them towards my chest. I'd done this wrangling maneuver with my nephew while changing his diaper, and to have it done to me was humiliating as fuck.

Even so, I barely struggled, and he started spanking the back of my thighs, my butt, and occasionally my balls.

I yelped and writhed weakly, and when he backed off enough to push my legs towards my head, I grabbed them.

Held myself open in meek compliance. Shit, I was so screwed up.

Chester got off the bed, wiping his hands on a towel before picking up his tablet.