Man's Dream: Taken by Another Man

...Next I find myself in a room absolutely alone, sitting on the edge of a bed, and as it happens in dreams, the premonition of something inevitable, frightful and insurmountable is already nagging at the back of my mind. The rasping sound of a key in the door startles me, stirs up the sensation of the inner fatalistic alarm even more: into the room comes a tall man of the Latino complexion, quietly approaches the bed and sits down next to me.

In a low sonorous voice he tells me: "Your appeal has been rejected, and you are to be taken by man forever". I feel frozen by the sentence, trying to press out of my vocal cords a hint of protest but to no avail because of a lump in my throat. He tenderly takes my hand and brings it to his manhood, slowly unzipping his fly. He doesn't need to say anything extra, he doesn't have to nudge my body or head towards the ultimate source of his male force. He knows the power of his manhood - all that he does is just to casually unzip his fly, unfasten his belt and slowly take out his powerful "IT", guiding my hand to touch it, confidently knowing that the sight and the touch alone would be enough to break my will, take away protection and resistance, send the embarrassing shivers all over my body, implant in my mind the total shameful inevitability of giving my total male self to another man, abandoning all my man's power of volition. This simple demonstration is enough to deliver the shockwave-sending verdict: "You will be possessed by another man and imbued with his male will and power completely from the inside out, and it is as inevitable as destiny, it's started to happen."

My gaze is shamefully riveted to his manhood against my own will, and the hot touch of it to my hand sends the electric waves through my hand all over my body that start draining my resistance. I'm instinctively trying to resist this invisible overpowering force, at the same time feeling inside that the loss of this fight is inevitable in front of this wall of masculine sexual might.

I, with electric shivers rippling down my spine, apologetically touch his "IT" with my lips, trying to placate the master with caress and avoid him taking total possession of me and stripping me of all my male self and freewill, yet subliminally this sense of inevitability of having to give myself to this man never goes.

Driven by this forlorn hope to earn a pardon from the total defeat, I warmly and cozily wrap my lips and the velvety blanket of my tongue around his manhood, and start slowly sucking on it as gently as a baby suckling at its mother's breast. I feel the acute shameful embarrassment of my erection, but not the erection brought on by my male force, but by the invisible humiliating power emanating from the source of master's manhood, streaming in waves of shivers through my body, disarming and subjugating it.

I start feeling the paralyzing taste of his pre-cum, the light pre-orgasmic shivers going through his body and almost whispering gasps, which fetters what little left of my male freewill and strength of resistance even more. The subliminal sensation of the implacable fate is gradually infusing every fibre of my being, the predestined design dictating against my will that my supplicating caress - my only form of resistance left to delay and avoid his ultimate possession of me - is only preparing his manhood for the act of taking all of my male self: my man's will, my man's strength and my man's honour. The acute embarrassment is nagging in my subconscious that I'm doomed to obediently help him prepare for taking me because not doing so would make him take me even sooner.

Yet I feel a false glimpse of hope that I will be able with a few more tender strokes of my tongue over his glans to beg him into releasing the liquid fire of his male power into my mouth, which would save me from the ultimate humiliation of turning totally into a girl and losing the last vestiges of my male self.

I double the tenderness of my gentle baby-like suckling at his foreskin and glans, and continue imploringly stroke the two gigantic rocks of his testicles with the tips of my fingers, silently, almost prayingly, supplicating him to mitigate the punishment and release his man's force into the homey velvety warmth of my mouth.

Yet subconsciously I feel that it is not to happen, no mitigation can be deserved and he will take me: he will penetrate me and impregnate every cell of my body from the inside out with his male self, with the ultimate extract of his man's will, stripping me of my own male power and will forever.

I feel his hand on my head, as he slowly moves me away from "IT" and it sends another wave of shivers of doomed helplessness down my spine with the fatalistic sensation that the destiny of giving myself to the man is unavoidable and predetermined.

All that I have any will for is to mumble under my breath, without hearing my own voice: "Please..", followed by a terse calm verdict escaping from his lips "It's time". After that everything happens like in a dream within a dream, with my total loss of control against the firewall of his male sexual power. He roles me over onto my stomach and starts unfastening my belt and pulling down my jeans - slowly, implacably, fatefully. I feel absolutely petrified and immobilized with the mixture of the fatalistic anticipation of the unavoidable ultimate humiliation of being permeated - replaced inside out - with another male, turning me into a girl, and the inevitable consummation of this humiliation with my own shameful orgasmic meltdown - the ultimate confirmation of my own male will and identity being overpowered and replaced not by physical force, not by deception or drug, but by the invisible domination of the sexual might of another man over me.

I still feel some impulses of resistance, but, as with a common dream, where victim tries in vain to run away from a powerful pursuer but cannot move because the legs suddenly become heavy and stiff, and body immobilized, I feel paralyzed and totally fettered. All that I am left with is the self-defeating hope against hope that I will wake up before the irreversible happens, at the same time subconsciously knowing that it is going to happen, and not to someone else but to my self.

He doesn't stop at just pulling my underpants knee-high, he totally removes them, never touching the rest of my clothes except for lifting the bottom edge of my shirt to just entirely uncover my bottom.

He doesn't rush as he pragmatically stuffs under my hips a cushion to slightly lift up my bottom, for he knows that I am already immobilized by the electric spasms sent by his masculine force through my body, fettered by the insuperable waves of his male might heralding the inevitable, shameful will-breaking climax in me.

He moves apart my legs with ruthless calmness, total silence hanging unbroken.

As with many dreams and their typical "out-of-body" experiences, I suddenly see myself from outside, never losing the inside perspective at the same time: I see the indescribable childlike helplessness and fragility of my body, laying prostrate on my front, shivering with the apprehension of inevitable, the naked legs wide apart, the shirt bottom hitched up laying bare my bottom, partially propped up with the cushion under my hips, the little innocent ring of anus in the centre as desperately as apologetically pulsating with sporadic pre-orgasmic frictions in the racking suspense, exposed and doomed so defencelessly, shamefully and humiliatingly as cannot be imagined by any girl on earth in the same situation, for it is a man, not a woman, that is totally suppressed with the male might of another man and subdued into this ultimate self-denying exposure.

I feel him slowly part my buttocks and then touch of the cold of lubricant to my anus. He puts his big hand around my face buried in the pillow out of helplessness, and I, by instinct, almost convulsively grasp his hand with mine pressing my lips, as if in repentant silent supplication, against his huge hot palm in the last vain hope that, at the last minute, I might by some miracle obtain the pardon and mitigation of the incipient punishment of taking my male honour, my male will, my male self.

The same minute as I press my face against the boundless palm of his huge masculine hand, I smell his male fragrance that must have been left with his own pre-cum on his hand when he had put some lube on "IT". This smell alone makes me shamefully dizzy with the pre-climax surges, draining the last drops of my capacity to resist, renders me wet as a virgin girl that is being prepared for giving herself up to an older and powerful male for the first time. This smell of his manhood trickles down into every cell of my body, freezing it as an insidious anaesthetic, depriving it of any strength, preparing it for the act of appropriation and impregnation.

I desperately want, in supplication, to plead one last time "Please, I beg you, let me drink the elixir of your manhood for once!" but the faculty of speech has already left me..

My tight little ring, and with it all my inner being, continues to spasmodically constrict in its absurd attempt to beg against inevitable, and this is the only power of begging resistance left in my body against this firewall of his manhood, this invisible flow of energy that dissolves me from the inside out like sugar in warm water, taking all the male strength out of me, as if pulling all the spine and all the bones out of my body, leaving only the helpless and burning flesh crying against its own weakness and its own broken volition bent to totally relinquish itself to the other male, his insuperable male power of domination and possession.

Suddenly, I feel the touch of his ultimate "IT" to my anus, and, contrary to all hopes, my sphincter, instead of constricting in the last attempt of resistance, gives in and relaxes, plumbing the depth of shame. The touch alone of the ultimate weapon of his male power to the disarmed and dishonoured exposure of the little ring between by buttocks in a millisecond tranquilizes all the muscle control, as a most potent medication, and makes my bottom obediently and resignedly open up, the power of will and control erased without a trace.

It seems as if no time at all elapses between this first touch of his manhood to my male honor and the full entry: in no time do I feel the touch of his testicles against my perineum with the full penetration of my body with his manhood deep inside myself, or, instead of my bodily self. I feel the willpower and control of each and every cell of my body and mind to be turned off instantaneously, blown out like a precariously flickering flame of an already burned and half melted candle with a single gust of wind, all my inner self turning into that very candle's melting wax.

At the same time I feel as if I am nothing but a little most fragile butterfly impaled on a needle alive from tail to head, my body, not belonging to me at all, going limp, all my nerves feeling totally paralyzed by some "orgasmic electricity", all my cells filled by the shameful honey of total self-abnegation against what had formerly been my male freewill and resigned gilt, all my tissue feeling like a snowflake being thrown into a warm water, dissolving in a fast pre-orgasmic meltdown.

I lose all the sense of time and space, I feel an almighty vertigo with something that already seems a state of unabated constant climax that ruthlessly holds every fibre of my being in an all powerful electric grip, yet some extra sense dictates that the real climax and the end of my man's honor is yet to come.

I feel medically conscious but I am not conscious in terms of my ability to give any account of time space and of what is happening around.

Even though the penetration feels as instantaneous inside my body, the "out-of-body" experience, as can be only in dreams, simultaneously makes me see myself being taken from the outside, as if in slow motion, and the new owner of my body taking total possession of me: his jeans and underpants are only slightly pulled down to make it practically comfortable to execute the penetration and implant his IT - the ultimate source of his male power - in me. Yet his powerful resilient buttocks are exposed and I can see with the tripled sense of dishonor, how his bottom is slowly lowering itself over me covering my own, my body spontaneously shaking and shivering in total unconscious abandonment, any vestiges of its former male power of will and control evaporating in an instant without a trace.

This total paralysis of every cell of my body transfixed and filled by his manhood, as dream would have it, is totally mixed with this never-going-away smell of his pre-cum that continues to ooze from his hand into my nostrils, into my paralyzed brain, trickling down every capillary of my body, mixing and doubling the pre-orgasmic grip.

He is almost not making any reciprocal movements, only several light slow heaves, for all that he has to do is to allow the spasmodically desperate constrictions of my inside to self-destructively trigger the eruption of the volcano of his manhood.

At this moment, as if falling into the black hole, I feel already beyond the horizon of events from where even light cannot escape, expecting to hit the singularity of the absolutely inevitable ORGASM, where all my former male will, honor and control are compressed into nothing, where all my inner self is irreversibly displaced with that of another mighty male being, where no limit to the infinity of the orgasmic shame whereby my own volition is bent by the gravitation of the man's sexual might into consciously allowing myself to relinquish all of my own self to him and be devoured by the orgasmic singularity that in itself is the everlasting consummation and confirmation of that man turning me into a girl, into his girl, into the part of his body and mind.

Almost in no time after the paralyzing penetration I feel as if the source of his manhood (that has totally superseded my male freewill and masculinity) starts growing fuller and fuller inside my body, pronoun "my" only in name by this moment. In a split second it feels as if his "IT" has occupied all my body and replaced every cell of me, and then I start feeling some final pre-orgasmic frictions. The little helpless ring of my sphincter, by sheer animal instinct, spasmodically constricts trying to repel with its last ounce of strength what is as unavoidable as fate, giving some pale semblance of resistance to the incipient impregnation. And it is this very constriction that instantaneously pushes the incoming owner of my body over the cliff of the orgasmic chasm into the final execution of his sentence on me - his possession of me, my male body, my male soul, my male will, my everything.

Only for a fraction of second I have a chance to hear the short pre-orgasmic gasp, like a salvo, before the river of the liquid fire of his masculinity - his male self - bursts into me, throughout me, superseding me, forcing me into the infinity of ORGASM, shame and humiliation of losing myself forever, vanishing, dissolution into becoming part of the male and his manhood. This second I hit singularity: I suddenly feel the hot injection of the overpowering fluid of his manhood into my shamefully alienated body, and the same instant it feels as if the earth itself has collapsed under me with all the forces of support gone, I have rabid vertigo, feeling as if the liquid fire of his manpower has instantaneously suffused every pore of my former self, made every cell orgasm and relinquish itself, dissolving every fiber of my tissue like as spider's injection dissolves its victim from the inside. Space and time seem to have vanished, every atom of my body being separate without any location, every part of me is twisted into the ultimate singularity of orgasm, shame and total dissolution of my male self in the manhood of another man, the irreversible reality of having been turned into a girl - this man's girl - being the only reality at the moment of waking up.