Uninvited

He had no trouble remembering the name of the site Sean had broadcasted on; it's hard to forget when you're staring at it for two-plus hours with a foot-long cock up your ass, plus the name itself was easy to remember . . . LiveTranny-Pigs.

Equally memorable was Sean's personal handle: "BigCockDaddy4U." After creating a free account, Chris entered Sean's handle into the member search window and there he was. Thankfully, all he found on Sean's account was a few videos of him jerking off and a long list of all the dates when he'd streamed live, including last night. There were no videos of these live streams, so there was no record of what transpired. Chris went to the sites FAQ and read up on how it all worked. The cost of viewing a members live stream was set at one "coin", which cost only a dollar and purchased in minimum increments of ten at a time.

One dollar . . . one lousy dollar, not even enough for a cup of coffee, but enough to watch someone like Sean brutally sodomize someone for two hours. The cost for Sean to broadcast was a measly $50, and he kept the rest. Having seen the number of viewers get as high as 2400, he estimated that Sean had pocketed an easy $2350 last night, all earned at Chris' expense. It boggled his mind. While Chris had no experience with professional escorts, he doubted that even the most beautiful of women could possibly charge that much for two hours, yet Sean had managed to make more than $1200 an hour while simultaneously getting laid in the process.

A plan of action began to grow in his imagination.

Chris packed up a weekends' worth of clothes and immediately left Jennifer's house; she was due home that evening and he didn't want to be there when she returned, as she would most certainly ask about the dark bruises on his neck and his wrists. He checked into a cheap motel with free wi-fi and began putting his plan into action with a cold precision devoid of hatred or feeling of any kind.

STEP #1

Chris began to send friend requests to everyone on "LiveTranny-Pigs," and slowly started to build a small following. He upload the very best of his sluttiest pics from various sites, and was sure to include a few videos of him sucking cock and getting fucked while dressed as a female.

He joined all the chatrooms that the site had to offer and sent friend requests to everyone. The more the merrier. This would go on for the rest of the weekend and would gain him a thousand friends in the first 24 hours, and another seven hundred before the weekend was over. And once a member accepted him as a friend, he went onto their profile and sent requests to all of their friends as well.

STEP #2

While continuing to make new friends on the L.T.P. website in the background, Chris logged onto the BDSM website where he normally met his "dates" and went to the groups designated for "hook ups" and "Pros". He drafted a new ad and laid out what he was looking for: "3 aggressive bull Tops wanted for live-stream gangbang. $$$."

He spent the next hour drafting the specifics of what he was looking for, choosing his words very carefully and ending with compensation.

Only 8"++++ need apply, comfortable with CNC, no limits, and a documented clean bill of health for raw sex. Flexible schedule as event may take place on short notice. $100 cash upon arrival, $500 each for 2 hours of play.

Then, Chris sat back and watched the applications roll in. It was a very specific type of person he was looking for, and the circumstances demanded nothing less than the best of the best.

By the time Chris checked out of the motel on Monday morning, he'd found the three men he was looking for, each more menacing and aggressive than the last to the point where even as the deal was struck they continued to call him "cunt" and "faggot." They were perfect. Now that he had them lined up, there was just one last person to invite: Sean. He needed not only Sean's several thousand friends as well as his popularity and his foot-long cock. So, when Chris returned to the house after Jennifer had left for her third and final conference that month, he charged straight into the house and confronted Sean.

He found him in the kitchen drinking coffee. He had a basket of unfolded laundry on the island and he was absently working on it between sips from his mug. When he saw Chris he scowled at him and said, "What the fuck do you want, Chrissy? Looking for something?"

"Yes, actually," Chris said coolly. "I'm thinking about two-thousand dollars ought to do."

That got Sean's attention and he sat his coffee down and began folding the laundry from the basket, refusing to look at him. "Two grand eh?" he scoffed. "What for?"

"An apartment, somewhere far away from you."

Sean laughed, "What makes you think I'd give you a single fucking dime?"

"I'm not asking you to give it to me for nothing . . . Live Tranny Pigs."

"Ohhhh," Sean chuckled, "you're looking for your end . . . well you can forget it."

"I know you well enough by now to know you'd never give me anything, even though I'm entitled to it, so I'm not going to ask. Instead, I'm offering to do it again."

Sean's eyes lit up, "What?!?"

"You heard me. I want to do it again, only this time it'll be on my account. I'm arranging a gang-bang . . . I've got three guys lined up already and I've agreed to pay them five hundred a piece."

"Well I hope you've got fifteen hundred dollars lying around to pay them with, because there's no way a noob like you is going to attract more than a handful of viewers."

"That's where you come in," Chris said calmly. "If you invite all of your followers to watch on my feed, and if even half of my followers join . . . "

"Your followers?" he scoffed. "How many could you possibly . . . "

"Just under three thousand as of an hour ago," he answered.

Sean fell silent for a moment and he looked at Chris with utter disbelief. "That's not possible. That's about as many as I have and it took me three years to . . ."

"Funny, it only took me two days, and I'm getting more every hour. I guess I'm a better sissy than you are a bull."

Sean thought about it for a moment before asking, "Why should I even consider this? What's in it for me?"

"Half," Chris replied easily, minus the fifteen hundred I'm paying the other three guys. You'll easily make as much as you did with me the other night, and you'll get to break me all over again."

Sean leaned back against the island and absently stroked the growing mound in his jeans, apparently thinking back to what he'd done. "You want to know something, you were a better fuck forced than Jennifer ever was willing. You were so tight and responsive . . . my only regret is that I didn't set up a third camera so I could have it on video."

Refusing to indulge in his twisted idea of nostalgia, Chris pressed him for an answer, "Look, you're either in or you're out. I'm perfectly happy to do this without you in a nice hotel room."

Sean thought about it some more before rummaging through the laundry basket and plucking out a pink pair of Jennifer's panties. "This feels like a set up of some kind, so I'll tell you what . . . I'll agree to everything you're asking for, but only if you put these on right now and suck my cock."

Chris looked at Sean, then at the panties he was holding, then back to Sean. At his hesitation, he added, "As a sign of good faith."

The last time Chris had trusted this man, he'd ended up tied to a table and violated. Still, without Sean's participation, his plan was dead. Sean was the plan. And even knowing that there was a chance that Sean would reneg on his agreement after Chris gave him a blowjob, he would most definitely refuse if he didn't do it.

Standing there in the kitchen, Chris snatched the panties from Sean's grasp and began stripping off his clothes. As he stepped into them, he laid out a couple more conditions, just so there'd be no misunderstanding later. "Two things . . . I'm not going to do it in the dining room again, I want to use your bedroom. And second, I'm going to pick out my own outfit this time."

Sean shrugged, "What the fuck do I care where we do it or what you wear . . . anything else?"

Chris pulled up the panties and lowered himself to his knees, "No, that's it."

Then, as much as it repulsed him, Chris unbuckled Sean's belt, the same one he'd flogged him with, took out his cock and began jerking him off with both hands while he went to work on him with his mouth. Unlike the night he'd been fooled into blowing Sean in the living room before he was attacked, Chris went to work on him devoid of any feeling or emotions; not unlike a prostitute trying to get a John off so she could return to the corner in search of her next customer. It didn't take very long. He jerked Sean off as hard and as fast as he could while teasing the tip of his cock with his tongue, and in less than five minutes he felt Sean's body stiffen and his mouth was filled with his hot salty cum, which Chris immediately carried in his mouth to the kitchen sink where he spat it out in disdain.

"I'll let you know about the gang bang," Chris said, pulling on his shorts and turning to leave the kitchen.

"Hey!" Sean called after him, "the panties?!?"

"I'm keeping them," Chris informed him. "Consider it asshole tax, same goes for the cheerleader's uniform unless you want to cough up my share of the money you made the other night."

And with that, Chris left him standing there dumbfounded with his softening cock hanging in the breeze.

CHAPTER 8

It took Chris three more days to set his plan into motion, during which time his friend requests on "Live Tranny-Pigs," skyrocketed. Sean kept his work and linked their accounts, so now all of Sean's friends became "Chrissy's" friends too. Chris continued chatting with members and created a buzz regarding the upcoming gangbang, which he posted as a live-stream even due to take place on Friday night, and the amount of interest being shown was exhilarating. Once the three men he'd recruited agreed to Friday night, Chris told (not asked, told) Sean and ignored his subsequent request for another blowjob. Chris was in charge now, and he could feel the rage building in Sean, almost as if he was saying, "Just you fucking wait," with his eyes and his body-language. Given the chance, he was going to make their first broadcast seem like foreplay.

To further infuriate his host, Chris began intentionally waiting until Sean was home before strutting into the house to run his laundry, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and the pink pair or Jennifer's panties he'd refused to return. He even resumed using the pool, wearing only a pair of red women's bikini bottoms as his swimsuit, knowing full well that Sean was watching from the house somewhere, seething. At one point on Friday afternoon, Sean charged down to where Chris was lounging in the sun out on the pool deck and confronted him, "I hope you're enjoying yourself, you little faggot," he growled at him. "I'm going to enjoy wiping that smirk off of your face later tonight. It's really going to be something."

At this, Chris smiled, refusing to open his eyes or even look in his direction. "God you're dim," he said.

Sean's voice began to shake as he fought to maintain his sanity, "What . . . did . . . you . . . just . . . say?"

Without looking up at him, he calmly asked, "Did you ever ask yourself why, if you tore me up so badly last Friday, I'd go out and recruit three more big nasty tops to help you do it again a week later? Ever wonder if you're all that?"

Without waiting for an answer, Chris answered for him, "Of course not, for the same reason a beautiful woman might be oblivious to the fact that she's a lousy lay . . . she figures that she's so hot that she only has to show up, just like you figure your cock is so big that all you have to do is stick it in someone and they'll be impressed. Well, I'm not, I've got toys that are just as big . . . not as long but at least as thick . . . and that's exactly what getting fucked by you felt like. Getting fucked by a big . . . lifeless . . . dildo. It's no wonder why Jennifer doesn't fuck you or suck your cock . . . you don't bring anything to the table other than a big dick."

Chris had him on the ropes now, and although he was absolutely terrified at that moment, he knew the worst thing he could do would be to stop swinging while he had Sean rocked back on his heels. He continued his tirade against him with something that he knew would cut him even deeper than the aspersions against his manhood. "The funny thing . . . is that you think Jennifer doesn't put out because she's a prude. Back in high school, she fucked so many guys and sucked so much cock that I doubt she remembers half of them. That's right . . . the woman you think is uptight and frigid used to give it up every chance she got, and you know a smoke show like Jennifer got a LOT of chances. Don't get me wrong, she wasn't a whore or anything, she didn't do any gang-bangs or anything like that . . . she limited herself to one dick at a time, but she definitely liked more than one dick a night, if you catch my drift. Hell, one time her brother and I were at a house party in my junior year, and there was this girl getting fucked in one of the bedrooms upstairs, and everyone in the house could hear her. Well at least five guys came out of that room before she called it quits, and who do you think came out of that bedroom after all those boys were finished? Jennifer . . . Princess Jennifer . . . Queen of the morning after pill. So it makes me wonder, why is it that she stopped putting out after marrying you? Or did she? What do you think, Sean? She is away on business an awful lot, isn't she? Think maybe the reason she isn't climbing all over your dick when she gets home is that she's had her fill? Face it, Sean, while you may think of yourself as some kind of bull stud, to Jennifer you're just a cuck . . . someone to clean her pool and split the bills using the money you make working for her daddy. You know what? I feel sorry for you. She sold you a bill of goods and didn't keep up her end, so I don't blame you for getting your needs met elsewhere. I understand completely. I've been with even more men than Jennifer, and the vast majority of them were married, so I don't judge you as far as that goes. But if we're going to do this thing tonight, you're going to have to play nice, okay? I don't know these other three guys but I do know you, and I'm trusting that you'll watch my back and make sure they don't get out of line , , , "

"Wait a minute," Sean laughed derisively, "first you call me a piece of shit and now you're asking for my help?"

"Listen," Chris countered, appealing to his business sense, "we could have a lucrative thing going here, and for it to work you're going to need me as much as I need you, so what do you say we put everything else in the rear-view and make some fucking money?" Chris was sure that Sean was about to beat the ever loving shit out of him, or fuck him . . . or beat the shit out of him and fuck him, or beat the shit out of him fuck him and then kill him. Instead he slowly turned and walked away from him.

"Oh, and Sean?" Chris said, stopping him. "Our guests are due to arrive at nine sharp, make sure you have the cameras and everything we need set up in your bedroom by then."

He saw Sean's shoulders tense up as though someone had just pissed down his back and called it rain, after which he resumed walking away without looking back or saying a word to him. Chris had kicked the hornets nest, now he needed to take cover until the swarm calmed down. He ducked into the pool house and locked all the doors, after which he unscrewed the broom from its handle and laid it down in the track of the sliding door to keep Sean from getting at him.

He spent the afternoon preparing for that evening, skipping dinner and preferring to face the night on an empty stomach. He performed his normal pre-sex rituals of shaving from his face to his feet, taking a long hot shower, painting his nails and applying his makeup until he was at his absolute trampiest; his lips painted fire engine red and his eyes blackened to the point of looking gothic. Then, he dressed; a black bra, a red dress shirt tied into a knot at his midriff. He slipped into Jennifer's pink panties (just for the hell of it) and pulled on a pair of skin tight shiny red latex leggings, so tight they almost looked painted onto his body. That left two final touches: a pair of black high-heeled stiletto boots, and an auburn red wig, teased into heavy curls.

Standing back and appraising himself in the mirror, he mentally prepared himself for what he was about to do. If it worked, he would win the war . . . if not, he'd be handing Sean a clear victory, and probably the spoils that went along with it.

Chris hid out in the pool house for another hour, and at 8:45 he went up to the house so that he'd be there when their guests arrived, and he found Sean sitting in the living room waiting for him. When he saw Chris he smiled, but not in the way you'd want to see a man with a foot long cock and a propensity towards sadism smiling at you.

His smile changed to a frown when he saw the pants Chris was wearing. "What the fuck are those?" he said, pointing at them. "You can't fuck in those, so why are you wearing them?"

"Sean," Chris said gently, desperate to avoid a confrontation, "don't worry about that right now, okay?"

He shrugged in response and came into the kitchen, shaking a blue pill into his palm and washing it down with some water taken from the fridge. "Whatever, Chrissy."

"Are we all set upstairs?" Chris asked quietly.

"Yeah, yeah, we're set," he answered, annoyedly.

"Mind if I check it out?"

Refusing to look at him, Sean shrugged, "Knock yourself out."

The time on the microwave now read 8:55 . . . he'd instructed their guests to ring the doorbell at exactly 9pm, not before, and not after.

"Okay," Chris said, carefully skirting past Sean, keeping out of arm's reach, "They'll be here any minute, I'll wait for you upstairs."

Sean shook his head in disgust, clearly fed up with Chris making the rules and giving him instructions, but he said nothing as Chris walked past him and headed upstairs. The moment he got to the second floor landing, Chris had to lean against the wall with his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. His heart was pounding with adrenaline and his hands shaking with fear. "Almost there," he told himself. "Keep it together."

He went into the bedroom and found everything set up and waiting for them. The heavy ropes Sean had run through and around the dining room table were now attached to the bed, the nooses left open and waiting for his neck and limbs. Sean's laptop was on the dresser and open to the log in page of the Live Tranny-Pigs website. There was a roll of duct tape and a pair of familiar handcuffs on the bed, and Chris shuddered to see them.

He logged into his account, clicked on the live stream icon and saw his face appear on the screen along with a chat window where 358 people were already waiting for the "show" to begin. He wasn't too concerned about the low turnout, and he imagined many people might prefer to wait until the stream had started before joining it. Chris typed a quick message into the chat window, so that they'd know he (Chrissy) was there.

"Hello boys. The show is about to begin, so hang tight, kay?"

A dozen or more responses flashed up on the screen, mostly from horny men who were anxiously waiting to see what he'd planned for them. At exactly 9pm, the doorbell chimed downstairs and he heard Sean's feet pounding across the floor as he went to answer it. Chris ran to the bedroom door and stood there listening. The house was as silent as a tomb, it was maddening.