Subject 91 - Chapter 3

[Tict]

Chapter 3 - Breaking

"We didn't spend much time camping, but when we did..." he trailed off, his eyes sad. "But this isn't really camping, is it?"

"Close enough for government work."

That smile... K... something.

He could smell the burning wood. The scent of growing things around him. His body ached with the hard march of the day and he rolled his shoulders. The smile across the fire grinned and the man who owned it rose to his feet.

Solid. The man was solid. Shoulders wide, arms thick, legs...

And he remembered the thought: My god, those legs.

He turned to watch the man, but he'd moved behind him and set his hands on his shoulder. "Relax," he said, gently. "It's going to suck donkey balls for the first couple days and even worse when we can't use the fires anymore."

The man, K-something, did something with his hands and gentle pressure, a hint of pain and tingling relief spread through his neck and shoulders. Strong fingers pressed into his muscle and he leaned back into the touch.

K was close, and the warmth of him rivaled the warmth of the fire. His body responded and his pants grew tight, his erection snaking down his right pant leg. He crossed his arms in his lap.

Then he felt K shift and there was a node of heat on his neck where K kissed him.

Nine woke.

Before he understood waking was a slow gradient between asleep and full wakefulness. Yawns and stretches, bleary eyes and stiffness. Not him. He was asleep one moment, awake the next.

"Holy shit."

Nine sat up and took in the situation in the blink of an eye. Took in the situation was a phrase that he understood, but knew not to be accurate. He saw and understood nearly everything around him: from the fabrics on the bed and the fifty ways he could use them to escape a secure cell to the crack in the ceiling above the door and the amount of pressure he might exert to separate this room from the rest of the house.

His eyes scanned the room, pieces falling into place until, some part of him satisfied, he relaxed his posture. He looked at the man standing in the doorway.

Nine had already assessed him with a glance. Dark skin, wild hair and dark brown eyes. He was athletic though not nearly so defined as he himself was. Nor as large. Nine had dismissed him as an immediate threat despite the man's posture.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good mor-" the man shook his head, "What the fuck are you doing in my house?!"

Nine got up and he heard the man gasp and utter another "Holy shit.'

Nine's morning erection swung hard as he walked toward the man. He searched his own feelings, for the right and wrong sensations, but felt none. The man was not a threat, but could cause trouble and right now, Nine didn't need trouble. He needed... time.

"H-hey!" the man said as Nine reached out and caught him by the shoulders. He'd flinched when Nine moved at speed and the hanging fabrics on the four poster bed swung wildly with the speed of Nine's passing.

"Sleep," Nine said, meeting the man's eyes. Like last night he felt the connection run through him like a current, a sudden tension in the room. The man's legs weakened beneath him and his eyes started to drift closed. Nine had already begun to shift his attention when the man sprung to full wakefulness. He struggled in Nine's iron grip and inadvertedly struck Nine's erection several time.

"Sleep," Nine said, more insistently. That current again, like a rubber band drawing tight suddenly and Nine could almost hear the thrum of what he was doing echo in the room. This time the man didn't even weaken, he continued struggling.

Nine took a few moments to consider the situation. He had to disable the man, but he didn't want to hurt him. That, at least, felt wrong. This was his home or he was staying here and Nine had, admittedly, broken in.

He gazed over the man, his mind reviewing his encyclopedic knowledge of the body. He released his grip with one hand and with the other, brought the man close into a strange, forced embrace. The man's hair tickled at his nose.

"What the fuck are you doing? Get off me!" The man continued to struggle, then he paused... and struck Nine in his exposed testicles.

A part of him, somewhere, recoiled, but his body did not move. Instead, his free hand drifted downward, along his spine until it rested near the base. He pressed gently, his fingers manipulating. The man's entire body stiffened.

"What the fu- oh fuck!" Nine felt the man's sudden and violent erection against his hip as he manipulated the nerve cluster at the base of the man's spine.

This time, Nine made sure that the man was subdued. The man's legs were like rubber. Nine hadn't paralyzed him, but with the man caught in a series of intense orgasms, he was unlikely to be much trouble.

---

The tattooed man woke and sat up and looked around the room. Elliot couldn't help but compare him to Arnold Schwarzenegger's Terminator. Except, well, he was asian. Then, he stood and his breath caught in his throat.

The guy was huge. Yes, he was a bit taller than him and yes he was about the size of a fitness model and could probably make a good run on the international covers of Men's Fitness, but that wasn't quite what caught his attention. What swung out from his groin had to be, at the least, a foot long and ramrod straight.

"Holy shit."

He didn't have time to enjoy the siight as he wished, the man was gorgeous, but he had broken into his house and perhaps the police... was he what they were looking for?

Suddenly the man was upon him. In one instant he was across the room, hands on his shoulders "What the fuck are you doing, get off me!"

The man met his eyes and said, simply, "Sleep."

Sleep. That would be a good idea just then. Just sleep, and relax. Probably this was all just a dream and when he woke up, the man would be gone. Maybe sleep would....

He felt his knees weakening and the soft haze of sleep wrap him up. But then a forceful, electric thought shot through him like a popped balloon in a silent library: NO!

His skin tingled as he blinked and he began struggling. "Let go of me!" Elliot was dimly aware of the man's erection, of the streaks of clear pre-ejeculate left on his skin as he fought.

"Sleep," the man said, forcefully this time. But this time Elliot didn't slow. He didn't know what the man was playing at but he wasn't going to allow himself to be hanhandled. But the man's grip was strong, unyielding. He even tried a judo trick one of his old roommates taught him years ago to no avail.

Finally, he balled up his fists and, echoes of hesitation and apology in his mind, punched the man in the balls. The man didn't even flinch. For as much as Elliot struggled, the man was like a statue.

The man pulled him into a one-armed hug and began stroking his back, trailing his fingers along his spine. "Get the fuck off me!"

When the man's hand rested at the base of his back, just above his ass, he stiffened.

The thought that, perhaps the man was here for more than just breaking and entering was just forming when the man did something. It was like a deep, hollow pulse through his core and then, the man's hand started massaging.

A sudden rush of pleasure suffused his lower abdomen and pelvis like the moments just before orgasm when all of his muscles that expelled ejaculate had cocked and loaded. For the second time that morning, his breath caught in his throat and his cock stiffened faster than it in the history of his arousal.

This, though, was different. It was as if every pulse of blood through his body had been transformed into pleasure. That just breathing, stoked the fire deep within his loins. Every motion was an electric stab of pleasure. His thighs tightened, pleasure. He relaxed them, pleasure. He flexed his abs and the gentle slopes of a moderately worked body tightened somewhat, and, too, pleasure.

Orgasm hit suddenly and forcefully. In the time since the man had touched the base of his back, the grunts of his struggles had transformed into gasps of arousal.

The man held him close, unmoved and unmovable as jet after jet of cum shot down Elliot's flanel pant leg.

The orgasm abated and Elliot was in the process of rallying his thoughts to the situation at hand when it returned. He cried out as the sudden pleasure of absolute relaxation, the unclenching of his entire body and the ease of his internal muscles turned into tingling, electric pleasure.

"Oh my god," he forced through clenched teeth. Still more jets of cum soaked his pants. And on it went, his body forcing itself into cycles of pleasure until his balls were empty and there was nothing else to shoot. Then... then just simply didn't end.

Then, blissfully, darkness came.

[Kit Werecat]

WOW!!!

This just gets better and better. I don't know what idiots allowed you to drop this story, or this magnificent writing style, but Thank God you gave it another try. It's not wasted on the heedless this time, I assure you.

I don't want to say this, because it cheaply tries to classify and stereotype this story, and 'way too early, but there is a ring to it that reminds me of Ludlum's Bourne Identity. I certainly mean the novel, not the motion picture.

But it is obviously much more than that, although I'm at a loss to connect the dots at this point. Hell. I can't even be sure if 91 is human, or synthesized, or what. Bourne certainly couldn't separate a room from the rest of the building, let alone be hung like a Clydesdale.

This story is absolutely mesmerizing. Even through the subjective veil of the written word, 91's animal magnetism and electric persona is profound and eerily hypnotic.

I shouldn't need to say this, but apparently at some time long ago, enough people didn't :

Very, VERY Well Done.

If writing isn't your professional career, it SHOULD be. I so very rarely encounter works of this caliber these days. Wherever you picked up your skill, and polished your craft, you learned very well.

And I am delighted to see these chapters appearing so fast. That leads me to think in a number of directions. That this has been a story long since completely written in your mind, you're a fast typist, and oh, so many other little bits of information I pick up, reading between the lines.

I think I'm beginning to ramble now, so let me end with a the statement that it is a genuine pleasure to read this work.

Thank You.

[portamivia]

Wow. We have another winner, ladies and gents.

[Reeza]

My goodness! This 91 has quite a diverse skill set. He can tear a whole room off your house, or he can make you have multiple spontaneous orgasms by touching a spot on your spine.

I see a bright future for him in a corporate setting. Maybe financial services or data management. Definitely a cubicle guy.

Keep it coming, Tict!

[Reeza]

I think y'all (Mdlftr, nnnrg, etc) must have missed this chapter, so I'm bumping it.

[Mdlftr]

I certainly didn't see THIS before!



A "cubicle dweller" who is a massive fitness model and can cause crippling orgasms!

What is this "91" creature, anyway??!!

Can't wait for more!

Mdlftr

[Reeza]

I hope we will be seeing more of this soon. It's very, very good.

[The Pecman]

I agree, excellent writing -- though I don't think you need to tell the exact same scene from two points of view. I think blending the two would've gotten to the point faster. But... I like what's there.

[Kit Werecat]

Originally Posted by Reeza

I think y'all (Mdlftr, nnnrg, etc) must have missed this chapter, so I'm bumping it.

Yes Indeed! BUMP! BUMP! Thanks as always, Reeza!

This is such a teasing piece of work, told so hauntingly, and by such an enigmatic character. One wonders just what his reasons for being actually are.

At least with more chapters, we can see him move towards a goal, and begin to deduct these answers for ourselves.

You have our complete attention, Tict. This is certainly a top story on my Watch List.

Help me confirm or discard some of the theories on my ever-growing secret list of possible explanations for this cryptic figure, and what motivates him.

It's so uniquely presented. Please share with us more.