18yo Steve is abducted when he makes the mistake of going for a walk alone.
[ratings]
Steve
by DrFantasyGuy75
Steve slowly opened his eyes. He felt groggy and dazed, like he’d just slept for days. Where the hell was he?
Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the hazy darkness of the room. A small amount of light was coming in from a rectangular window at the other end of this long, cold room. His arms and legs ached, and, with a start, he realized why: he was bound, spread-eagle, to a bed.
With growing alarm, he tried to move, but found that he couldn’t: both his wrists and his ankles seemed to be encased in what felt like thick, leather cuffs. He tried to twist his body, but instead could only writhe in vain on the bed, the scratchy covers irritating his naked back. Horrified, Steve realized that he was completely nude except for what felt like the tight white fruit-of-the-loom briefs he’d been wearing when…when…when what? What the hell had happened?
He tried to think, and hoped to resist the growing panic rising within him. The last thing he could remember, he’d left the party at Jake’s house, and had been wandering through the woods, by himself. Smooth move, dumbass, he thought. Had somebody put something in his drink? It was only a week until graduation, and he’d wanted to see the fort he and his brother had built when they were kids. Now he remembered something he thought might be useful: at one point, hadn’t he turned when he’d heard a noise behind him, like an animal running though the brush? Shit, yes! Now it was all coming back to him, even though it all seemed like a distant dream: before he could get all the way around, he had felt someone—it’d felt like a big, powerful guy--grab him, and he’d felt a small pricking sensation in his neck. Did that really happen? Steve wondered. And did that explain why he was here—wherever the hell HERE was?
Steve’s parents had always been the overprotective type, maybe because Steve was so very good-looking. He’d always been handsome, with a tall, athletic body, brown hair, and beautiful blue eyes. His mom had often caught both middle-aged women as well as guys of all ages checking out her “sports freak” son. But now that he was 18 and about to go to college instead of the Navy as he’d always wanted, Steve’s parents had eased up a bit. Now, Steve wished that he had listened to his mom as she always went on about “stranger danger” and always telling someone where he was going, or carrying a cell-phone or something with a GPS.
Steve realized that it must be getting light outside, because more and more light seemed to be streaming in through that little window. He looked down at his body- his hairy chest and pits, his lanky, hairy, muscular legs, the dark “treasure trail” that started partway up his washboard stomach, curved lovingly around his navel then down to his cock--and he noticed with shame that he had a rather large boner at the moment. What the fuck was wrong with him? It was true that he was always horny lately, and his girlfriend Caitlin was only a junior and refused to put out, but why was he horny even now? True, it had been days since he’d jerked off, and he usually did so every day….
He wondered if this was perhaps a prank, or if his friends had brought him here so that he could lose his virginity to an older, more experienced woman. His mind wandered to a frequent fantasy he’d had of a large, chesty blonde woman forcing him to have sex with her, and his hard-on got even bigger. A small stain of pre-cum formed on his briefs, and he forced himself to think of something else, like his dog, Sandy. But, he thought, what if this wasn’t a prank that Smitty or the basketball team had pulled on him? What if he had been kidnapped by some twisted, dirty old pervert?
Time went on, and Steve started to get really worried. Ha ha, guys, very funny. But now, it wasn’t so funny anymore. He was starting to get pissed off. Not only that, but he had to go. Not number two, but he had to pee. He imagined all that beer from last night was still in his belly. Plus, he was starting to get really thirsty. He noticed that, despite how cool the room was, he’d been sweating a ton, probably from nervousness, and the bed under his back felt moist. He rubbed his face on the cover, and could feel a day’s growth of beard on his face. People always thought this was sexy, but Steve hated going without shaving. Plus, his pits were starting to smell. He generally liked his manly musk—it reminded him of the locker room—but now, since he had no control over it, it just made him angry and powerless. He hated feeling powerless.
Steve spent some time looking around the room. He didn’t see anything much in here besides a small, flimsy brown card-table to the left of the bed. One thing that made him nervous, however, was a pair of hooks in the ceiling, off to the left and the right of his bed. Hanging from each of these hooks was a length of chain that Steve estimated at about four feet each. Ha, ha, he thought. Must be part of the prank. He was really going to kick someone’s ass once he got free.
The room seemed detached, cold. He couldn’t even tell if this was part of a larger house, or if it was just part of a stand-alone structure in the woods. He assumed it must be in the woods, because he couldn’t hear anything at all. Of course, the glass on the window looked really thick, as did the drab, grey walls. He tried to see if he could see his clothes anywhere, but could see nothing on the floor but a large, green duffel bag. He’d only been wearing some beige shorts, old basketball shoes, and a red tee-shirt, but he still wished he knew where these clothes were, and he hoped they were in this bag.
Soon, Steve started to yell for help. At first he had yelled loudly, stuff like “Help! Help me, I’m trapped in here!!!!” but, after a while, his voice had faded to a hoarse whisper. After an hour or so, he decided to give his voice a rest, and decided to see if he could try to break free from the cuffs holding him in place. He couldn’t really see what was attached to his ankles, but the cuffs attached to his wrists were thick and long, and Steve couldn’t see what was holding them on him, but it felt like either leather laces pulled tight or some kind of strong twine. At the edge of his field of vision, he could just make out several leather straps that pulled backwards to each corner of the bed, and they seemed to pull downward underneath the corner of the bed where they were attached to something. Steve pulled, he grunted, he struggled, but he could not even move an inch. He tried the same thing with his feet, but he just couldn’t budge. Defeated and more thirsty than ever, he lay still, and closed his eyes, hoping he would wake up in his own bed at home and it would all be a dream.
He had almost faded off to sleep when he heard the rattling of keys. Thank God, Steve thought. He tried once again to yell for help, but he could only make a hoarse, croaking sound.
What the hell was taking the person on the other side of the door so long? Steve wondered. Were there, like, many keyholes or something? Was this some kind of a vault?
Soon, the door swung open, and Steve gasped in relief. Two cops came into the room, flicking on the lightswitch which shed crappy fluorescent light on the room. Thank the Fucking Lord, Steve thought. Relieved, he lay back on the bed.
“Hey you’re safe now, so don’t worry, bro,” the first cop said, smiling gently at Steve. “We’re here to rescue you. This could have been a nasty situation. We’re going to get some stuff to cut you free and get you out of here. But in the meantime, my partner and I are going to take care of you.”
Both of the cops were extremely good-looking, and they looked either Latino or maybe Italian-American. They looked like wrestlers or maybe ex-professional football-players. Steve felt relieved and relaxed to be in the presence of other masculine guys, and he smiled at them. He had decided long ago that admiring other masculine, athletic men, and even getting the occasional hard-on for them, did not make him a fag or anything. Besides, didn’t all guys have bromances or crushes on their coaches?
“Hey, until we get you free, you gotta drink something,” the other cop said, and he had kind of an accent, but Steve couldn’t place it….maybe Puerto Rican, maybe Italian. He opened up a plastic bottle of what looked like Steve’s favorite sports drink, and, when he put the bottle to Steve’s lips, the young man gulped greedily. When he had drunk the last of the liquid from the bottle, the first man, who looked Latin but had no accent, said to his partner, “Hey, Diego…the kid probably hasn’t peed in like 24 hours. Why don’t you let him piss into that bottle, too?”
“I don’t know, Damien. It’s against regulations…..”
“But it’ll be a while before back-up gets here with that kit.”
“Well, go ahead and ask the kid. Hey, Steve, is that OK? You gotta go?”
To this, Steve just nodded.
“OK, but you gotta film the whole thing so we have proof that we didn’t abuse the poor kid,” Diego said. “Also, I’m gonna need you to sign a release,” he said to Steve.
“How the hell’s he gonna do that?” Damien asked, setting up a camera on a tripod, which Steve assumed would be used to film the crime-scene or whatever, or to make sure he couldn’t sue.
“Just put a pen in his hand up here and have him make a squiggle. That’ll cover us if there’s any legal questions later,” Diego said, as a red light lit up on the camera. “Of course, I will cover our asses right now by asking the kid directly if he’s 18 as his ID says, and if he consents, so that we can keep it on file. Is that right, kid? Do you consent?”
“Yes,” Steve croaked, the sports drink finally bringing his voice back a little bit. Officer Damien put a pen in his hand, and he made a squiggle where he thought they wanted him to, craning his neck to see what looked like a legal document that Diego held at the corner of the bed.
“Good boy,” Diego said after a moment, putting the paper down on the card-table. “Now, just try to relax, handsome. You’ve been tied up for a while now, so just chill and relax man, and let the pee come.” The man pulled Steve’s underwear back, and the young man tried to think again about his dog or about the old lady who lived across the street from him. Diego held the bottle to his partially-erect penis, and after what seemed like an eternity, Steve was able to pee into the bottle. He felt incredibly relieved, and as Diego removed the almost-full bottle and mopped up the small amount of urine spilled on his belly, Steve lay back and felt almost contented.
But his contentment turned to panic as he felt an unexpected pressure on his face. All of a sudden, he realized that the first officer, Damien, had a roll of duct tape out, and was putting the strong tape over his mouth. Steve tried to scream, but it was too late: the tape was already covering his entire mouth. Damien tore the tape clean, and stepped back to admire his handiwork. It was only then that Steve realized that the two men did not wear badges or even carry guns. They wore cheap blue police uniforms, the kind that strippers or jerks at Halloween parties wear.
Damien stopped the camera, and turned toward Steve with a wicked smile.
“Man, you are one stupid kid,” he said, with a laugh. “Usually they put up more of a fight or at least ask a few questions. You’ve been stud-napped, bro!”
“What did you expect?” Diego asked. He took a small pair of scissors from his pocket, and began cutting Steve’s underwear off. “He’s just a dumb jock kid, barely 18..”
“That’s how I like ‘em, young, dumb, and full of cum,” Damien said, removing his shirt, and revealing a muscular torso and chest covered in thick, blair hair. “And so perfect for the website.”
“Get ready, kid,” Diego said, removing his shirt also, this time to reveal an extremely muscular chest that looked like it had been shaved recently. “You’re about to become a gay porn star.”
Damien was now in his boxer-briefs. He picked up his cell phone, snapped it open, and dialed a number. As he did this, Diego finished cutting off Steve’s tattered underwear, which he tossed on the floor by the bed. Then he removed a small syringe from the green duffel bag and came around to Steve’s side. The man seemed to read the question in the young man’s eyes as he injected the contents in the syringe into the muscle of his upper-arm, and he said, “it’s a special new bonding hormone, bud. Not dangerous. But it will make you love us, especially once we make you shoot your load.”
“Yup,” Damien said, speaking into his cell-phone. “He’s ready to go. Yeah. Beautiful, maybe the best one yet. Yeah, I think we can do this one without too many steroids. Yeah, it’s all taken care of. Two or three days max. Yes! Now, tell the guys to get ready, it’s almost showtime!”
A balding, middle-aged man who looked quite overweight entered the room, and he was carrying a plastic brown bag. Out of this, he removed a brown garbage bag and some duct tape, and he began using these two things to cover the window on the far side of the room. This, more than anything else, seemed to push Steve farther into panic mode, and he threw his head back on the bed, his eyes closed shut, a silent scream in his throat.
“Yeah,” Damien said again into his phone. “Yeah, we already did the hypnosis, then put him back under. Yeah, no, they won’t have any idea. They’ll probably think he ran away to join the Navy. And get this: not only is he bisexual, but he’s also a virgin. So, the guys should be able to bareback him once we test his cum, just to be on the safe-side.”
Steve couldn’t believe his ears. When would he wake up from this nightmare? And worst of all, why had his erection returned, and why was it harder than ever?
“Hey Ray,” Diego said to the older man, who stood staring at Steve’s boner. “Give me a hand here with his legs.”
Ray approached the bed, and held onto the length of chain to the right of the bad as Diego reached under the front corner of bed, unhooking Steve’s right leg. Steve started kicking and thrashing his leg, trying to scream and make a sound through the tape, and breathing heavily through his nose. But Diego held his leg firmly as Ray hooked the thick, leather ankle cuffs to another hook at the end of the chain that hung from the ceiling.
Once again, Steve tried to scream, but the stupid tape was preventing him. Tears were forming in his eyes, and he fought from letting these assholes see him cry. He was once again sweating like crazy, and his body felt like it was on fire. His body-odor seemed worse than ever.
“Uh-oh,” Damien said into the phone, walking slowly to the bed where Steve eyed him in desperation. “It looks like we’ve got a fighter here. Oh well, that phase won’t last too long,” he said, caressing Steve’s short brown hair and heavily sweating brow. “In a few weeks, the poor guy won’t even be able to survive without us. After a few years, he won’t even remember his old name. Good ole’ stockhome syndrome.”
Now, Steve really was starting to cry. He couldn’t help it. But part of him felt oddly free, and he didn’t understand why.
“Hey, dickhead,” Diego said, walking around the bed toward him. “Hey, I really don’t appreciate how much you fought me on that leg lift.”
“Give him a break,” Damien said, once again caressing Steve’s hair. “He’s had a rough first day.”
“Fuck that shit,” Diego said, picking up his belt from his discarded uniform. “I’m gonna beat his ass.”
“Whatever,” Damien said, walking to the doorway. “Just don’t break the toy, and don’t leave any marks.”
“I’m gonna make you suffer, Stevie,” he said, removing two clothespins from the duffel bag. “You’re gonna find out how close pain is to pleasure.”
He placed one of the clothespins on his left nipple, and the pain of this shot through Steve’s body. What more could they do to him? Then, Damien placed the other clothespin on his right nipple, and Steve couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so turned on.
Diego smiled slyly at Steve, and said, “I’ve got a fun idea,” he said. “Ray, grab his other leg now.”
Ray looked confused. “Are you sure, boss? He’s gonna fight me for sure.”
“Do it,” Diego barked at him, turning to the card-table and picking up the bottle of urine, which he sniffed. “Nice. We were gonna run some STD tests on this, but why waste it? Stevie, if you don’t play nice, I’m gonna pour this piss all over your fuckin’ face. Hey, it’s still nice and warm. What do you say? Don’t fuckin’ fight us, boy. We’re gonna win, no matter what. We fuckin’ OWN your ass now, boy.”
Steve lay back on the bed, totally defeated. He didn’t even struggle as Ray removed his leg-strap and hoisted his left ankle up to where the right one was, his naked, hairy, virgin ass exposed to the air.
“Much better,” Diego said, patting the side of Steve’s head. “That’s a good slave.”
The two men left the room, and Steve was finally alone, the bright fluroscent light shining down on him. He stared down at his own cock, which seemed to betray him, playing for the other side. God, why did his own dick even seem to abandon him?
Why was it so erect? All seven inches stood at attention, a small dribble of white pre-cum at the top…..
What the FUCK?????!!!!!! Steve thought. How the hell had this happened?
DrFantasyGuy75