Entrapment Two Sides To Every Story Part 5B Alternative Ending
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Mutobus free porn video
Mutobus
by
Saxen Thud
incubus - an evil spirit that has sexual intercourse with women
succubus - an evil spirit that has sexual intercourse with men
mutobus - an evil spirit that has sexual intercourse with the altered
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I never understood what happened to me. I don't know how it happened, or
why, but it did happen, and there's no trying to make sense of it.
I was late for work; there was some sort of thunderstorm the night before
and the power must have gone out; my clock was blinking 12am. After
wiping the sleep fog from my eyes and staring at my watch in the morning
light, I knew there'd be no time to stop for a McGriddle. I stumbled out
of bed to the bathroom and pulled my shorts down, turning on the shower
to way-hot, like I like it. I stepped in over the side of the tub and as
the hot water blasted my face I relaxed and let loose the stream of urine
I'd been holding in, shifting my hips side to side in lawn sprinkler
fashion. A quick shampoo lather-rinse-but-no-repeat, and I turned to the
back wall, checking my face in the fogless mirror for any new zits,
decided that I might as well do my every other day beard trim. I reached
for my razor, but knocked it down into the tub by mistake, under the inch
of soapy water at my feet. I bent down to retrieve it.
Something let me know it was coming. There was a smell I couldn't
identify. The air suddenly got colder, making the hot water produce a
thicker mist. I was pushed hard, headfirst into the wall, cracking the
tile. I crumpled to the floor of the tub, and after that my thought
process went all crazy, like hitting a multiball in a pinball game. The
water was streaming my in face; I couldn't open my eyes, but it didn't
appear that there was anyone there. I shielded my face with my arm,
tried to turn over.
A hand cupped my penis and grabbed firmly.
I yelped and lashed out, swatting and kicking, but none of my swings
landed on anything. The hand disappeared, I got to my knees and pushed
away the shower curtain, swiping the water out of my face and stared
around wildly. There was no one there. I put my hand to my throbbing
head and checked to see if I was bleeding. It hurt really badly, but I
didn't seem to be cut. I couldn't believe what had happened, and looked
down at my groin. I didn't see anything unusual, just my penis with
streams of water dripping down, a little smaller than normal, but then
again that may have been due to the jets of adrenaline coursing through
my body from a state of abject fear. I moved to stand.
I was suddenly thrown off balance as my right arm was twisted behind me
and I was slammed face-first into the back wall. I got the wind knocked
out of me and could barely breathe. The shaving mirror dislodged and
fell, bouncing on the rim of the tub and landing on the bathmat against
the side wall. I heard the squeak of the knobs and the water spray
turned painful, on the verge of boiling hot. I was pressed hard into the
wall, and then pushed upwards. I felt my feet leave the floor as my
forehead, nose, and teeth ground into the tile. As I caught my breath, I
started struggling, kicking wildly behind me but didn't connect with
anything solid.
He slapped my ass. Hard.
I knew it was male, I had sensed it from when he grabbed my penis, felt a
strength in the thick fingers that flashed through my mind that it was a
guy, a big guy, with huge arms. I gasped again and tried to push myself
away from the wall, and he slapped my ass again. I felt the white-
electric pain shoot from my behind and rocket through the rest of my
body, and I stopped struggling.
"WHAT?!? WHAT?!?" I cried. I'm not even sure what exactly I was asking
him. I felt a hand rub my butt cheeks, kneading and squeezing one and
then the other. I felt a finger trace down my wet ass crack and down in
between. I twisted hard and got slapped again, and the pain was so bad I
heard a high-pitched whine for a few seconds. I relaxed against the wall
and felt the finger worm between my cheeks again, probing, reaching my
asshole, pressing hard.
"No. No. No. Oh God. No. Please. No." Suddenly a hand in my hair,
pulling me back and knocking me into the wall again, and my vision swam.
I shut up. I looked sideways and tried to see behind me, but I still
couldn't see anything. I happened to glance down and saw the shaving
mirror. It was facing me, facing behind me. As the finger slowly pushed
into me, I stared at what couldn't possibly be.
There was no one behind me. I was being ground into the tile and
violated by what felt like a professional wrestler, and there was no one
behind me. The finger pushed in further, going to one knuckle, and then
another. It hurt less than I thought it would, but I also felt a sharp
scratching, as if from a too-long fingernail. I felt pinned to the wall
by my back and my ass. I tried to breathe through it, but between the
injuries I'd already received and the humiliation I was now receiving I
found myself moaning with fear and disgust. The finger slid out and in,
out and in, another finger reached further up to lightly touch and stroke
my ball sack. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, counting seconds,
praying for it to end. When I got to about 35 I felt the finger pull out
and the pressure on my back eased. I heard the knob turn and the shower
shut off.
I slid down the wall and collapsed back into the tub again. I curled up
into a ball, covered my head with my left arm and my genitals with my
right. I looked around in disbelief; there was still no one there. I lay
there for about ten minutes, long after the residual water in the tub had
drained and I was shivering and clammy. I started to get out of the tub
gingerly, everything aching. My forehead was one big lump, something
felt crunchy when I slightly squeezed the bridge of my nose. My back was
tingly from the hot water, I was probably burned slightly. I hesitated
and spread my legs slightly, reaching to feel the condition of my
asshole. It was tender and a little raw from the rubbing, but I wasn't
bleeding. I grabbed my towel, wrapped it tightly around my waist, walked
out to my bedroom and sat down on the bed, staring at the floor.
Eventually I reached over to the nightstand and picked up my watch again.
Somehow now I was a half hour late to work. I took a deep breath and
picked up my cell phone, dialed my boss.
"Central Distribution, How can I help you?"
"Howard, it's me."
"Jack, what's up? You sick or something?"
"Look, I, uh. I was in an accident. I'm not coming in."
"What? A car accident? Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just. I just can't come in today, I'm banged
up."
"What happened?"
"Look, I can't talk about it right now, I'll tell you tomorrow, okay?"
"Sure thing Jack, you rest up, take care of yourself, let me know if you
need anything."
"Thanks Howard, I appreciate it." I hung up, put the phone on my
nightstand, but it was too close to the edge and slid off, bounced across
the carpet. As I stared at it, I felt my nose running, wiped it with my
hand. I was bleeding after all.
He grabbed my feet and flipped me back on my bed, whipping the towel off
me and throwing it across the room.
I wouldn't let it happen again, I was ready for him. I pulled back my
legs and kicked out hard. I thought I felt my left foot hit something,
so I reached out for my desk lamp on the nightstand and swung hard for
where his head would be. The lamp cord caught on the bed frame and it
stopped short in midair and landed hard, smashing the bulb with a soft
pop. I sat up, swinging my arms, looking for blood. He bitchslapped me
and I fell backwards, seeing stars. The world swam into grayness a
little, but I shook my head and fought to keep clear.
He sat on the bed next to me.
There was no one there, no one there, no one there, but the mattress sank
down, in a large half oval on the rumpled mattress sheet, about halfway
down the bed by my waist, it sank down and the bed frame squealed under
the sudden weight, and the sheet was compressed under him. I shrank back
from him, almost got up the courage to jump out of bed and run, but I was
scared he'd hit me again and this time I'd pass out and who knows what
he'd do then. I was breathing hard, my mouth was so dry, I felt my nose
blood passing down into the back of my throat and I coughed and
swallowed, coughed and swallowed.
He touched my nipple. I was startled, and slapped at his hand. I didn't
touch him, I only smacked myself in the chest, but my hand was slapped
away and forced to the bed, then let go. A couple of seconds went by,
and I felt him touch my nipple again. A fingertip lightly grazed my
nipple, tickling slowly, tracing a circle around and stroking lightly. I
held my breath and stared at the ceiling. He touched the other one,
stroking up and down, and I felt him grasp it lightly between his thumb
and forefinger and pull gently. I looked down, saw my nipple and the
flesh of the left side of my chest impossibly standing about an inch
further away from my body. My nipple was slightly flattened and white
from pressure. When he let go I saw it snap back and get its color back
again as the blood flow returned. I saw both my nipples were
involuntarily hard from the attention they were receiving and swallowed
hard. I was shaking. I was never so terrified in all my life.
"Please," I whispered. "Please, no more. I can't take this, I can't,
please don't." There was a hesitation. I closed my eyes again. I
couldn't do anything but wait and breathe. Movement startled me, I
looked to my side, I saw the half-moon depression on the bed slowly rise
up as the weight pushing it down eased. When the bed frame stopped
creaking, I waited a few seconds, then slowly moved my hand to the area,
ran my palm across the sheet. There was no residual heat there, only a
slight damp which was probably from my towel. Nothing that suggested
anything had happened. For a second I wondered if I was going crazy, if
all this was a hallucination.
A sound, a quiet vocal. "Heh." A deep whisper, sending a tiny thrum
through the air. Amusement.
I was curled up in a ball, gasping for air. The pain must have been
instantaneous, but I swear time almost stopped as the wave flowed at a
snails' pace from my groin through my stomach, around to my spine, back
around to my chest, up to my throat, and landing in the back of my head
with the information that I had just been punched in the balls with all
the force of a sledgehammer. I couldn't understand it. I didn't think
pain like this existed. There was no reason why I was still conscious,
but awake or not, I was still totally helpless and limp as a ragdoll.
Big hands grabbed my wrists and slammed them over my head, pinning them
to the headboard. Another(!) set of hands grabbed my legs and pulled
them up and back, spread wide, practically to where my arms were. I was
bent in half, looking down helplessly at my exposed crotch. My penis was
laying limp, pointing at me, already turning a pale pink-purple. Stop, I
tried to cry out, but there was no air, I could barely make my mouth form
the words.
I was punched in the balls again. And before I could register that, I
was punched again. My head was elevated slightly from my arms being
pinned, and I could see my crotch compressing with every blow, my penis
flailing. Over and over I was punched, and through the red fog I
realized something in my brain had started counting again, counting the
punches instead of seconds, and before I knew it I was into the twenties.
After about forty rapid blows, my penis and testicles were a flattened
ruin of purple meat dangling between my legs and the abuse finally
stopped. I was crying freely now, eyes rolling in my head and sweat
pouring down my face and chest. I was trembling violently and praying
for him to just kill me. His palm pressed flat against my crotch, the
large hand covering pretty much the entire area. He pressed down hard,
as if trying to stop the bleeding from a wound.
His hand went into me.
I felt it go inside, slipping down through the skin, through the fatty
tissue and muscle until he was wrist deep in my crotch. I jolted hard as
I felt his fingers spread and then wiggle. I saw the outline of his hand
through the flesh below my gut. I retched violently and vomited down my
chest and abdomen. I felt him slowly close his hand, grabbing an
oversized handful of my internal flesh, and then a sudden YANK. My
entire groin stretched away from my pelvis about six inches. He let go
and then YANKED again. At this point I can't explain how I had any
coherent thought at all, but I helplessly watched the unrecognizable
purple/black shape that was my penis yanked and twisted over and over
again, pulled and stretched almost to the ripping point, all the while my
internal organs having the sensation of being pureed.
The first attack in the shower seemed like a dozen lifetimes ago.
The squeezing and yanking stopped, and the invisible hand pulled out of
me. I was amazed that the whole swollen thing was still basically intact
and hadn't dissolved into a bloody puddle, running down the side of the
bed. I still couldn't move my arms or legs. Bent in half, crotch on
fire, barely able to breathe, and suddenly a sensation in the back of my
mind that I felt like I had to pee. I wondered if I would ever be able
to pee again.
The pulling started again, but from outside, from the loose skin around
the edge of the area. It pulled slowly but solidly outward, and then I
felt fingers pressing into the center of me. The fingers were bunched
together, pressing right at the base of my penis, pressing firmly,
harder, harder still. Painful as it was, it still was nothing like what
I had already gone through and I couldn't figure out what he was doing,
when I felt something in my body down below give way. It was a tearing
sensation, and I felt his hand push into me again, but not through me.
My ruined penis and testicles were pushed up, up and into me and I
retched again, although I had nothing to throw up this time. My abdomen
distended out with the pressure of his fist in me, and I saw the
remainder of my crotch that was still outside my body roll up at the
edges like a sock and stuffed into the deep hole his forearm had made.
With another violent wrench, he pulled his fist out and slapped his palm
down hard over my crotch again. This time there was a flash of heat, a
burning sensation so hot I could feel my skin crackling and peeling away.
Just as I thought I'd go completely insane, his hand left me, the burning
stopped, and the other hands pinning my arms and legs to the headboard
let me go. I flopped down flat on the bed and oh thank God in Heaven, I
passed out.
I woke up sometime later. I was laying on my side, curled up against one
of my pillows. Sour vomit smell covered me, but instead of making me
nauseous it seemed to clear my head. I had no idea what time it was, but
it felt like late afternoon. I instantly remembered my ordeal, and was
too scared to move for fear of aggravating any of my many injuries. I
lifted my head slightly, and didn't feel any pain, so I looked around the
room. There was no sign of anyone, not that I expected there to be any
sign of my invisible assailant. I moved my arms up, felt my face. I
didn't feel any pain, which was impossible considering how many times I
had been smacked in the face and pushed headfirst into the wall. I
swallowed hard, and moved my attention to my crotch. I tried to flex my
muscles down there, but all I felt was an unidentifiable twitch from
within and relative numbness. I slowly ran my hands down my stomach,
pressing occasionally to see if anything still hurt. Remarkably,
everything seemed as it was before the attack.
Everything, until I got to - down there.
The area just underneath my belly seemed a little more swollen to my
touch, it pooched out a little further. Lower still, and at the spot
where I remembered a lifetime of the starting point of my skin moving
outwards, I felt a softness that dipped suddenly inwards. Rather than go
in, I traced along the outside, a downward moving furrow that went for a
predictable length, then stopped a small distance from my asshole. A
slit. I carefully moved my legs apart, and I felt the slit open slightly
as well, giving my finger access to move inside. I wasn't even beginning
to approach the realization of what this meant, I was just deliriously
happy that nothing hurt anymore. I stopped my self-examination, moved my
legs, swung them slowly over the side of the bed and sat up.
I took in two deep breaths and let them out. I took in one more breath,
held it, and looked down.
My penis was gone. Totally gone. If I believed what I had lived
through, then it was somewhere pushed up inside me, like jelly in a
doughnut. The area seemed stretched inward to the slit, which I guess
was logical considering, but I still couldn't wrap my mind around what I
was seeing. I moved my hand to touch again, when another thought that
had been in the back of my mind for hours suddenly pushed it's way
forward. PEE. MUST PEE. I stood shakily, and the urgent need propelled
me forward to the bathroom. I realized what I would have to do halfway
there, and when I got to the toilet, I didn't hesitate to turn and sit.
For a moment, I had no idea what to do, but when I relaxed the whole area
I felt a stream come from inside me and heard it hit the water under me.
When I was done, I kept very still, staring down. I spread my legs, and
got a pretty clear view of what was there.
I had a pussy. Well, to be more accurate, I had what looked to be a
vaginal opening. A simple pair of two lips with sparse hair surrounding
it. Using both index fingers I gently pulled them apart, revealing more
folds and layers and what had to be the proverbial tunnel leading inward.
The skin was already wet, and I couldn't wait anymore to find out what I
felt in my heart I already knew. I pressed the tip of my middle finger
at the entrance, pushed it slowly in. When the whole finger was in I
wiggled it around, but suddenly remembered the fingers that had gotten me
this way in the first place and pulled my finger out again. I stared at
my finger, expecting blood, but didn't see any. It smelled of pee
though, and I grabbed a handful of toilet paper, wiping off my hand
first, and then wiping down my....my pussy. I got up from the toilet,
flushed. Not even slightly considering the concept of going back in the
shower, I soaked a small washcloth in warm water and scraped off the
vomit from my chest hair. As I finished my wipe-down, I noticed the
shaving mirror laying on the floor by the tub. I grabbed the mirror, and
moved back to the bed. I saw my phone sitting where I had dropped it and
grabbed that as well. I saw that it was almost 3:30.
I stared at the pussy in the reflection for the next ten minutes, poking,
prodding. I couldn't believe it, but there was no denying it. Where it
counted I had female parts. I saw the small lobe at the top of the
opening, recognized it for what it was. My clit. Sensitive when
pressed, extremely sensitive, almost ticklishly painful when rubbed. I
thought it should feel like rubbing the head of my penis, but it didn't
feel like that at all; it was a totally new sensation that I not only
felt where I rubbed, but also in my feet, the small of my back, my
nipples, and my throat. I couldn't believe I wasn't running around my
apartment screaming like a lunatic or calling any kind of authorities,
but instead I was sitting here trying to keep myself from masturbating,
and quickly losing the battle. I felt a warm wetness starting, so I
swept my finger inside myself and used that to lubricate my clit more.
The feelings doubled, tripled. I rocked my fingertip up and down over my
clit, very reminiscent of my now forever-gone jerking off days, but that
seemed to over-stimulate me and I had to slow down. Going slowly,
rolling the clit back and forth with a steady motion made the feeling
grow steadily, more powerful, and in my head I had a quick flash of a
baker rolling out dough. I laughed but kept going, laying back and
spreading my legs wider for greater access. I couldn't believe what I
was doing, but I certainly didn't believe what I was seeing - my normal
hairy masculine body with a delicate pussy in the middle, that I was
frigging for all I was worth and feeling like I was on the verge of my
most powerful orgasm of all time. When it came, it came on like a
shotgun blast of warm pleasure radiating in waves over my whole body, my
legs twitching uncontrollably, my hand fairly dripping with my own
juices. It took about two minutes for me to come down from it, and when
I did I was exhausted. I put my hand to my nose and sniffed, it was a
smell I recognized and identified with females that I had been with in my
past.
What am I? Am I a woman now? I got up out of bed and went into the
bathroom again. The mirror in there wasn't full-length, but I could see
everything from the waist up, I looked no different that I was yesterday.
Not the least bit feminine. Then I stood on tiptoes until my crotch came
into view. A triangle of hair and smoothness, no sign of a penis. In
fact, there was a dimple which brought the phrase 'camel-toe' to mind. I
turned to see my backside and didn't see anything different either. I
lifted a leg and put my foot on the counter, it was the same old muscular
man-leg that took me to work, playing basketball at the gym on weekends,
dancing at the clubs. But, from a different angle, at the juncture where
my legs met, there was the opening barely hidden in the folds that had
just given me incredible feelings of pleasure. I put my foot down,
stared at myself.
What happened to me. How did this happen. Who was-
I walked back into my bedroom. "WHERE ARE YOU?" I called into the air.
"WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME? HUH?" I looked around the room again for any
indication my attacker was there. After getting no response, I walked to
my closet and got dressed. T-shirt and shorts, I certainly wasn't going
anywhere today that I needed to get dressed up for. I realized that I
was starving and went to my kitchen for some leftover chinese food. I
also made myself a pitcher of lemonade and drank about half of it down
before the ice even had a chance to make it cool.
I was doing my best to ignore it, but every step I took made me painfully
aware that my penis and testicles were missing. I never realized how
much they had been a part of my range of ever-present sensations, but
there was an absence I felt when I stood, when I walked, when I sat on my
couch, and now there was a rubbing, a sliding, where there hadn't been
before. I didn't feel like I was completely dry down there, even after I
took a napkin and reached inside my shorts to dry myself again. When I
sat down and repositioned my shorts again, I saw a hint of that camel-toe
again and pulled the crotch of my shorts out. That reminded me of seeing
my penis pulled away from my body in just the same way, and I felt a wave
of nausea wash over me, I nearly lost my chicken and broccoli. I drank
some more lemonade, but that aggravated things more, and I felt the
beginnings of a massive heartburn attack coming on.
I walked back to the kitchen where I had my all-purpose junk drawer. I
had a bottle of antacid pills, I shook out three of them and chewed on
them until they turned into chalky sludge, turned on the tap in the sink
and washed it down, trying to get the residual out of my teeth. I turned
and leaned back against the kitchen counter, wiping my mouth on my arm.
Looking down again, I put my hand under the waistband of my shorts and
into my underwear. I rubbed at my pussy again and had no clue what I was
going to do now. Could any doctor help? Who ever heard of anything like
this? What next?
From right next to me, like a quiet grunt from a huge animal - "More."
A hand grabbed me around my throat and yanked me towards the living room.
Uma
- 29.06.2020
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