Player Coach Relationship
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Player Gets Played free porn video
Player gets played
By Alan Teauge Bittig
The birds sang gaily from the blossoming cherry trees. Below, over wide,
well-groomed lawns came an odor of lilac and wild-roses. Above were tall, well-
rounded hills coated with shimmering bluegreen pines and yellow aspens. The
scents and sounds where salvation, the sights and emotions were budding with the
multi-faceted leaves. It was spring and it was rebirth, but the fields were a
mire of dead mud.
Jack leaned out from the third floor balcony of the hotel. Tightly
grasping the black iron railing his blank eyes skirted over the green, lifted
upward towards the blue, and settled on the brown. His feet anchored themselves
painfully under the metal girders as his torso forced itself further forward.
Finally, balancing dangerously over the edge he stopped moving. He was silent.
Before him were the noises of freedom. Each birdcall, each dog's howl, and
each child's cry seduced his torn mind. From behind him came the voice of
oppression. Whereas once he had held it to be the kindest chirp in existence it
now grated against his nerves with the force of a metal brush. "Jack," the
voice, warbled, "You're really starting to scare me now." It paused to suck air
into its lungs. "Come on inside now. Please."
I loved her once, Jack thought, but Goddamn if he did now. Without turning
or speaking to her his eyes left the swamp and once again flew over the new
spring. He took in a thousand shades of earth and beauty, but somehow he could
not keep his sight from the filth. It's odd, he thought. With that much water
something should be growing. But it also occurred to him that too much water
rotted the roots. Killed the growth.
The voice once again tagged him. It had finished with requests, grown
weary of pleasantries and cheeriness. Now it settled on demands. "I mean it!"
the voice screamed, the force of ineffectual rage choking the words. "You hear
me. Now or I'm leaving!" He attempted to clear the offensive noise from his
mind. God knows they'd worked with their relationship, he thought. They'd given
it all the time and words and thoughts and gestures that made for good
television love affairs. There had never been a lack of clinically arranged
roses or dark chocolate in blood red boxes.
Jack looked again into the glistening ocean that is the sky, watching the
bluebirds flutter and the hawks spin in slow, deliberate circles. He felt the
wind on his face, the breeze in his hair. How free those birds are, he thought,
how separated and released. If a bird grew tired of its life somewhere it could
throw its body into the air and leave. He leaned further over the balcony.
He sighed and turned his back towards freedom. He had, like many people, a
certain masochistic urge to subject himself towards as much oppression as
possible. He rarely smiled. The room was cool and dim in comparison to the
bright day unfolding outdoors. On the bed sat the vessel, which carried the
voice. It was sobbing. "So you finally listened to me," it whimpered, "so you
finally listened."
"Yeah," he answered, "I guess I did."
"What's wrong with you today Jack."
"I'm not sure Reeny."
"You don't like me anymore? Do you?" She was crying hard, her soft, salty
tears running in pale lines down her face. To Jack they looked like the saliva
trails of slugs. He looked away in disgust.
The time had come for bitter honesty, he supposed. Looking deep into her
pale green eyes he said, "No, I don't. I can't stand the sight of you anymore."
She broke down. "Oh my GAWD," she screamed, "Oh my fucking Goddamn God."
She moved towards him, her left hand thrown in front of her like a talon. She
searched his face. "But you loved me once," she pleaded, "once, whenever, at
some damn point in time."
He looked at her. "No." He laughed a little, "I really don't think I ever
did," he grinned, "You were just so damned sexy, so damned religious. I wanted
to see if I could change a nice girl like you into a slut." His face exploded
with happiness.
Her face dropped, her body heaved, and in the silence he could almost here
her heart snap into several pieces. She looked at him, and then averted her
eyes. "Then why did you stay with me so long?" she groaned. "Why did you play me
for this long?"
"I got stuck," he said, "I couldn't get away, outside circumstances and
all."
"You're a bastard," she screamed, "a fuckin' bastard."
"But at least I'm free now."
Her face grew white and her eyes green darkened. "My sister told me about
you," she whispered, "my sister said you were like this and I didn't listen."
She reached into her purse. "She said this was how it was gonna end but I had
more faith in you ya sonovabitch. She called me naive and she gave me this just
in case I was wrong." Her hand pulled out a small, iron box. Its cover was
inlaid with several gray, shimmering pearls.
Lines appeared on Jack's forehead, a vague feeling of discomfort washed
through his body. "What is it," he asked, trying to sound as if he was
uninterested, "is it some kind of love potion." He smiled, showing his hard,
cruelly white teeth.
"Even better," said Reeny, "it's a box of instant karma."
At those words all fear left Jack. "Instant karma," he said, his body on
the verge of a fit of hysterical laughter. "John Lennon give that to you." He
cracked up, his left hand covering his chest and his right one grasping the bed
for support. He gasped for air around each laugh.
"Take what you deserve you piece of shit," whispered Reeny, and then she
threw the contents of the box in the direction of Jack. He was coated in a layer
of white dust, and almost immediately he stopped laughing. The pearls on the
cover of the box turned a bright, hellish red. Jack began to shake, his face
contorted and his muscles left his control. His sphincter loosened inside his
pants and an odor of sulfur and neglicie began to permeate the room. "My God,"
he said, "what have you done to me bitch." His voice cracked.
Then he became aware of changes consuming his person. His chest felt odd,
heavy, like someone had glued a pair of balls to it. His legs tingled, grew
cold. He had no feeling in his crotch, his hair swished against his shoulders.
Everything was wrong, even the level of his perception. He seemed to be looking
Reeny directly in the eyes rather than down several inches. Then the room swam,
lights flickered and hallucinations conquered his mind. He fell through bizarre,
smoky rings, which emanated from all surfaces in a myriad of interesting and
unique colors. He coughed. The world grew black. He shut his eyes and tried to
survive the ride.
When he opened his eyes again he was disoriented and confused. He was
seated now, and he could feel his pants hugging his crotch and the button
digging into his stomach. The fit of his underwear informed him that he no
longer possessed a penis. His heavy chest was supported inside a heavy piece of
cloth and his shirt was so tight it almost cut the circulation to his arms. His
vision improved and he slowly became aware of his surroundings.
He was in a bar, sitting on a stool with a cigarette tightly clutched in
his left hand. The nails were painted silver. In front of him was a brightly
colored girl drink, and beside him was an empty stool. He sipped the drink and
tried to figure out what his next move would be.
Jack's peripheral vision alerted him that a tall man was making his way
through the crowded room towards the vacant seat, and he tried to stand up, to
move away, but his body refused. The man sat down and Jack stared at him. He was
a tall redneck with long, greasy black hair and a mustache. "Can I buy you a
drink babe," he said.
Without meaning to Jack said "Yes."
"What's your name sweet thang," asked the man.
"Jacky," he giggled, shocked at his action.
"Well, Jacky," said the man, "aren't you the cutest damn thing in here."
As Jack consumed his drink he was unable to keep himself from leaning up
against the man, playing with his hair and kissing his cheek. The man patted
Jack's back and occasionally tweaked one of his breasts.
"I think I love you," said the hick.
For some reason Jack was pleased by this revelation. His arms wrapped
around the man's shoulders and he (from this point forward she) stood up. While
the part of her mind that was still Jack screamed in protest she went home with
the man. She simply grabbed hold and followed to his bedroom, where she
stripped. She satisfied him several times that dark, cold, hellish night.
The romance continued for weeks as Jack sat as a prisoner inside her own
mind. She was disgusted at what a horror (and a whore) her physical
manifestation had become. The roughneck bought a myriad of gifts for Jacky, both
expensive and cheap. He serenaded her with a thousand lovely words. He was so
kind, so generous, and so thoughtful that even with his misgivings of being
female Jack began to love him. The man's presence began to delight Jack, and as
she became more willing to carry on the love affair she gained more control of
her body. Inside of two months she loved him more than anything she had ever
known. Through the duration of their affair her emotional state became
dangerously hinged on his presence. When he was not standing beside her Jack
would cry. She needed the man, and despite her slight disgust at her female
anatomy and the terror that accompanied her first period she clung to him.
Jack was in complete control of the feminine body by the fifth month of
the affair, and this being so; she was unable to blame anything but herself for
going with the man to Vermont. It was now mid-autumn and throughout New England
the trees had exploded into ten thousand hues and shades of red, yellow, brown,
and orange. It was the last desperate bid for attention from a dying year, the
last days of warmth and freedom before the coming of the winter.
She gave her body to the man willingly several times. She played with him
in her flirty style but found him less responsive than he had been when their
affair began. She was disturbed by his apparent desire to be away from her and
at sunset she approached him.
"What's wrong," she said.
"Not much," he answered.
"Then why won't you tell me you love me?"
"Because I never loved you bitch." His face contorted with disgust. "I
always thought you was pretty damn ugly."
"Then what were we doing." Her face contorting and a strange, painful
feeling of desperation crept through her chest.
"I just needed a few months of easy sex," he said, "just having some fun."
Jack was destroyed. At that moment her female mind shattered and her soul
screamed from an immense emotion of hopelessness. The lights of the hotel dug
into her mind and the long shadows of the woods looked comforting. There she
could hide, there she could forget her love and lose the dirty feeling that had
grasped her person, and there she could be free. She hugged her chest and ran
into the night.
The end
Tammi
- 05.09.2022
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