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Punked By Jena Corso Edited By Angela Myers "He is so fucking dead," said Donnie as he opened his locker at the gym. "No fucking way," screamed Dean. "He's way out of control now. We've got to think of something good to get him back." "I think we're better off just leaving here in our towels," said Donnie, holding up a shirt. "You'll lose your membership, and they're not letting you out of here like that," said Dean, taking the clothes from the locker. "Just walk out quickly and don't make a big scene." "This sucks so bad," replied Donnie as he pulled on the tight shorts. "Don't make a scene? Who the hell is going to be blind enough to miss us, and I may never want to use this membership again after this!" Donnie and Dean quickly dressed and at least shared a quick laugh looking at each other. They were dressed identically in hot pink spandex gym shorts with matching hot pink tank tops which read "Partners and Proud" in white glittered letters. They each slid on their pink flip flops and Dean handed Donnie the sunglasses that were left for them. "At least he left us these." Dean pushed the oversized round sun glasses over his face. Quickly they walked through the crowded gym, seeing the muscle heads stopping their weight training and staring at them as they hurried by as best they could. "Donnie?" said an aerobics instructor, stopping as she passed by them. "Is that you?" "Hey, Tracy," said Donnie, lifting his sunglasses for a moment. "We'll talk some other time. I'll explain next time I see you." "Oh, no biggie, hon! You two have a good day. I'm sorry, I guess I should have known, but I didn't realize you two were together," said Tracy. "I told you Tracy," said a girl riding a stationary bike. "See ya guys. You make such a cute couple, and of course I love that color. Have a good march today." They were ready to puke, seeing her nail color matching their clothes, as they quickly exited the building. Instantly they realized all the barricades were up, and the crowd had begun gathering for the parade as they hurried to their car. "Give me the keys and let's get out of here," said Donnie. "I don't have them," replied Dean, feeling his flat pockets. "Holy shit, we've got no keys, wallets, money, or even cell phones." "Wait, what the hell is this?" Feeling something in his back pocket, Donnie opened a note. "I suggest you enjoy the 12 block march and look for a driver with a sign with your names on it at the end of the march. He'll pick you up and drive you home," the note continued. "Either that or you can walk the six miles back to your apartment, but I doubt that's a good idea since you don't even have any keys to get in. The driver will have your keys and all your stuff. Don't be late checking around the corner from the gym, or you'll miss the start and then he'll be gone when you get there. Enjoy the parade, fellas." "I'm going to tear his fucking throat out!" Donnie tore up the note. "Calm down and hurry up," said Dean looking over at everyone. "I see people lining up." "Shit, I hate him," Donnie said as they quickly ran around the corner and saw a man with a clipboard. "Dean Walsh and Donnie Kennedy," Dean told the man who scanned the list. "Yes, I see you two right here. You just made it in time." The man checked them off and opened the barricade, letting them in. "Go right towards the front and see the man in the yellow shirt." "This is crazy," Donnie told Dean as the barricade closed behind them. "Hurry up, boys," said the man, motioning them over. "We march in thirty seconds." Dean and Donnie quickly found themselves in the middle of a line of a dozen other men and women in the front of the rest of the marchers, who were all wearing identical shirts to theirs. "Join in solidarity, everyone," said the man organizing them. "Ok newlyweds. Let's go." "Motherfucker!" muttered Donnie, looking at Dean as a fat biker type took his left hand and he looked at Dean. Dean rolled his eyes, steaming mad, as a tall muscle guy took his right hand and they began marching, holding hands with each other now and the rest of the line. As they began down the route, the crowd got thicker and people were cheering and applauding as they walked. They couldn't believe they had been pranked this badly, looking around at flash bulbs popping and seeing a few news cameras as they finally headed towards the end of the parade. "Shit, there's our ride," said Dean, seeing the sign. "Thank goodness," said Donnie as they broke from everyone and dashed over. They were exhausted and relieved as they sat in the back of the car as the driver finally got them home. As they came in, their girlfriends were both sitting on the couch at their apartment, laughing hysterically as they came in. "Welcome home, happy couple," said Liz, kissing Dean. "Glad you told me now, before we got too serious." "Not funny Liz," said Dean, ripping off his shirt and running into his bedroom to change. "I'm going to so kick his ass." "No, you're not," said Tiffany, kissing Donnie. "You'll just have to think of a better prank." "Oh yeah, that should be a cinch," Liz cracked as she clicked the remote. "He's been getting the best of you two idiots for a year now, but this one was the best. I taped your little march on the afternoon news. Sorry, but I'll never get tired of watching you two holding hands and parading together." As they watched themselves holding hands and marching, their minds were in constant motion,, zoning out on their girlfriends as they teased them. Both Donnie and Dean spent the next two weeks obsessed with how to get back at their friend, as he called harassing and teasing them every day or two. They got emails, phone calls, and did their best explaining to people that they had been punked. On a Friday night three weeks later, the guys were walking through the mall with their girlfriends, when Liz stopped, having a brainstorm. "Wait, you see that?" said Liz, pointing at a pretty brunette handing out flyers at her center mall kiosk. "It's Cameron. Come on, I've got an idea." "Well, isn't it the happy couple," Cameron teased them as they came over. "I thought you two switched teams. What are you doing with these lovely ladies?" "Hey Cameron," said Tiffany hugging her. "You know they were punked, right?" "Yeah, I heard a rumor, but there's a lot of confusion out there," said Cameron laughing. "Some people told me it was a joke, but someone else said they saw them making out. Guess you guys really are confused." "Calm down, Dean," said Liz, getting between them as Dean was ready to explode. "Allow me a second please, you animal. What are you going to do, hit a girl?" "Fine, but I'm done with this shit." Dean calmed down as he raised his middle finger at her before his girlfriend kissed him to mellow him out. "So Cameron, how are you making out at recruiting models?" said Liz. "Oh, girls are no problem," said Cameron. "I have to be selective, handing out flyers to them as they all think they're the next hot thing, but guys are almost impossible these days. When they hear they have to pay for the studio time and have a portfolio made, they just walk away. I hand out like a thousand flyers a day and barely ever get a guy to sign up. It's a tough sell for a normal guy. Usually we get asshole Guido's or 'roid heads, and that's not what we are looking for. They want me to send the cute all American type that at least has some attitude for the camera, but they can work with." "Oh, I know a cocky asshole that would do it!" Liz smiled. "Wait, what's in that warped mind of yours, Liz?" Dean said, smiling. "Well, I was thinking that Roger's going to be here tomorrow shopping for his new suits, and you know how full of himself he is," said Liz. "We get Cameron to recruit him, telling him how gorgeous he is and get him to the photo shoot and have some fun with it. I know Bianca who is the makeup artist at the studio there, and usually they'll do any type of shoot you want, as long as you pay for it." "Oh, that's so evil," Dean grinned "I love it. We could embarrass him while he poses, thinking he's so hot." "He'll never do it," said Donnie. "He'll suspect something is up, and he's a cheap bastard, so he's not paying a cent." "No chance he'd think about it as a joke," said Cameron. "When I come dressed to attack men, they flock over here. They just leave when it costs money, because it's fairly expensive. If he thinks it's free, and I charm him, telling him he's one in a million, then I might be able to hook you guys up. You'd have to call Bianca, plus the studio, and handle all that yourself. I can't get involved there, but if you arrange everything with them, then I'm in." "Done, whatever it costs. Liz, call her and let's get that bastard," said Dean. "Do it. Rent the studio, the makeup artist, everything. I don't give a shit, I'll pay. Just make it worth it!" "Call me later and let me know, Liz," said Cameron. "Honestly, I never liked that guy anyway. I remember meeting him at some parties and he seemed like such a sleaze. If it's a go, I'll dig out something sexy and reeling him in should be fun." Liz made call after call and arranged everything as Dean and Donnie could barely control their excitement. The next day, Cameron didn't disappoint as she showed up dressed in her sexiest low cut red mini- dress, highest stilettos, and a pin straight, platinum wig. They watched over Cameron's web cam from her spot in the mall as she worked a number of men as they walked by. It was difficult to see as guy after guy flocked to her and then finally Roger walked by. "OMG, you are perfect," said Cameron, gently touching his arm as he walked by. "Can I have a minute of your time sir?" "Sorry, I'm busy shopping," said Roger. "Not interested in whatever you're selling." "No problem, but I'm selling nothing to guys that look as good as you," Cameron whispered as she looking into his eyes and then away. "That sexy face would sell, big time. You're a stud." Cameron turned her back to him and went back to chatting with a few other guys. He walked away into a shop and then she could see him sitting and trying on shoes. She was speaking to other potential models as she noticed him staring at her. Finally he reappeared, holding a few bags walking towards her as she turned, making like she didn't see him as she continued handing out flyers. "So this is a scam, right?" whispered Roger as she felt his hand touch her back and acted slightly startled. "I won't mess you up with your customers and say this loudly, but what did you mean by that comment you made about me?" "This is no scam. I'm here to scout people with modeling or commercials potential. People that the camera will love," said Cameron. "Yes, for most we do charge for them to have a portfolio done and for their photo shoot. We give them the opportunity to look their best and then we help them pedal their portfolio, but for a chosen few, none of that applies. Look, I see beautiful men and women every day, but seldom do I spot someone that just seems so perfect, so natural, so all American. I'm glad you came back, and this peaks your interest, because for you there would be no cost." "What's the catch?" said Roger. "Look, I know I'm a good looking guy, but there's always a catch?" "Oh, a little cocky is good, honey! Your bone structure is amazing and I like the sexy little wavy hair," said Cameron touching his face and sliding her nails through his hair. "You're slim and I'm sure I'm not the first girl to call you sexy. There's no catch, slick. We're doing a calendar shoot tomorrow and I've already got two gorgeous guys that we're paying to be in it. Do I need another, no, but you'd be perfect. Here's my card and a sample contract. Think about it and I'll pay you $500 plus royalties on every sale. Do you make $500 an hour now?" "Hard to believe." Roger took the documents. "Whatever! If you're interested, call me later and if not, no big deal. But trust me, these chances for either of us don't happen often," said Cameron, softly patting his ass and walking back out, handing out flyers. "It'll be your loss, pretty boy." Roger walked away, at least slightly intrigued, as everyone sat back and waited. As the night came and went, disappointment filled the air as Roger never called. "Holy shit, wake up Donnie. We overslept, and I got text after text from Cameron," yelled Tiffany, waking her boyfriend. "Hurry, get in the shower and we're out of here in thirty minutes. The asshole is doing it, and we're picking up Liz and Dean on the way." They hurried getting ready and quickly picked up their friends. "So, this is even more amazing than I thought," said Tiffany as she texted. "I remember I had Roger's credit card number from last year's super bowl party, and I figured you guys wouldn't care, so I charged the studio fees and the makeup artist to his card. $1500 bucks, he's going to be so pissed." "How perfect is that?" said Donnie as he drove. "And don't worry, we'll be behind one way glass upstairs, so he'll never know we're there," said Liz, texting away. "Brenda told me not to worry about a thing, and their going to have fun with him." As they arrived there, they were escorted upstairs and sat there, overlooking the entire studio. They watched some earlier shoots with some husky guys in speedos posing as they awaited Roger's arrival. Finally, he showed up acting all full of himself as he walked in and was greeted by Brenda. "You must be Roger," said Brenda, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure. This is my assistant Sergei, and in a moment, you'll meet your photographer Von, when he's done with the shoot before you. Are you nervous?" "No, I'm good," said Roger with some confidence, sliding down his sunglasses and seeing a huge body builder type posing for shots, and another awaiting his turn. "Wonderful, strip to your briefs for me then hon, and we'll get you prepped," said Brenda. "Right here?" said Roger, surprised. "Yeah, we get intimate real fast on these things Roger," said Brenda, holding out her hand. "Look around. It's a big studio with no walls, so there's not much we hide." Roger felt strange but untied his shoes and stripped down to his underwear. "I guess he didn't get the memo?" said Sergei with an attitude, circling him as Brenda tossed his clothes into a small laundry bag and zipped it. "What does that mean?" Asked Roger, annoyed. "It just means you need some maintenance before I do your face," said Brenda, leading him to a small metallic table. "See that model over there. We'll need to get your skin to that state, honey. Lie on your back for me please." "Oh, all oiled up?" said Roger as he felt the warmth on his back. "Yup, and hairless," said Brenda as Roger practically jumped off the table, feeling Sergei rip the hair from his back. "Holy shit!" Roger teared up as they repeated it over and over. "Hoolllyy Shhhhhhitttt." "Stay calm honey, you're distracting the photographer and the other model," Brenda told him. "You're a big strong guy, and tiny girls do this all the time." His friends were covering their mouths to muffle the sounds, roaring with laughter as they were thoroughly enjoying him being tortured by waxing. Luckily for them the loud mood oriented music drowned out some of his screams and some of their giggles as they finally flipped him over. "Ok, I'm going to start your makeup while Sergei does your chest and the front of your legs," said Brenda. "I'll need you to stay as still as you can, and keep your eyes closed until I tell you." He felt Brenda rubbing and brushing all over his face as Sergei waxed his chest, arms and the front of his legs. Every once and a while, she asked him to open his eyes as he could see the mascara wand hit his lashes and a pencil touch his brow line. He looked up seeing Sergei put on some rubber gloves as any humility he had was soon gone, as he lifted his legs and removed his briefs while Brenda worked on his left eye. "Don't worry, it's just clean up now," said Sergei as he moved Roger's limp member and waxed some of his pubic area, shaping as he worked. "What the hell am I posing in?" Whined Roger. "That other model's in shorts, but it's like I'm getting a bikini wax!" "He doesn't have the legs you do Roger, but trust me he's completely bare down there. Way more than you," said Brenda, pushing his eyes back shut. "Now just relax, you're going look incredible." Finally he got the slightest sense of relief as Sergei was massaging a soothing cream all around his body as he just lay there relaxing for the moment. When they finished, they motioned him to get up, as he sat up he began staring down at his hairless frame. "Holy shit this is weird," said Roger, looking at each of his hairless arms and staring down at his last tiny patch of hair. "I think I'm going to puke." "It's just nerves Roger, because you're so pale now and you had such dark hair before," said Brenda. "The human body looks much better hairless but it'll grow back if that's what you desire at a later time. You never see a hairy actor on tv or hairy men in posters do you?" "I guess not?" Said Roger, thinking about it as Sergei knelt down and held out a small thong for him to step into. "See, now sit and let me do something with this sexy hair," said Brenda, touching the back of his head as he sat in her chair. "I've always loved a guy with longish, wavy hair. Very sexy, hon." Brenda now filled her hands with a thick mousse, massaging it into his hair. She took her blow dryer and picked at it with her fingers as she dried it and then took a thick brush, rolling it away from his face giving it a little volume. She picked at the ends near his ears, spraying them away from his face and then fiddled with the top, teasing just a touch as she sprayed it. "Send him out for his test shots," said Sergei, interrupting. "Von is ready." "Like this?" whined Roger. "No silly, put on these pants and these sandals," said Brenda, holding open some pants to step into. "Smile and give the camera some attitude." Roger had never been in pants like this before, as the tight leather pants moulded to his skinny ass and thighs and he slid his feet into the dark sandals. He walked in front of the camera feeling strange as Von took a few test shots, moving and posing him. "Hate it," yelled Von. "Go a little edgier for me, please." Sergei moved in, placing a leather vest over Roger's shoulders, and then changed his sandals to short black leather biker type boots. Brenda took her brush to his face, brushing at his cheeks and then made a few more strokes on his lids. Von snapped a few more pictures and then again stopped, looking unhappy as he walked in front of the camera and shaking his head. "Enough with the feeble attempts everyone," said Von, looking very pissed. "This is not working. I need real edge. I need spikey not fluffy. I need the features to pop. I need flirty and wild and rock n'roll. Are you game for that Roger? Help me pull that off please!" "Umm, sure," said Roger, confused. "Chin up, be still please, and don't open until I tell you," said Brenda, stepping in front of him with her flat iron and tugging at his hair. "This shit stings beyond belief if I get it in your eyes." Roger stood there as Brenda tugged and twisted at his hair, pulling her flat iron through on top and spraying over and over. While she worked, Sergei slid off his shoes, pants and vest as he stood there feeling quite a chill for five minutes or so. "Don't mind me, ok," said Sergei as Roger gasped, feeling him pull his penis back and the straps of his underwear ride up between his cheeks into the crack of his ass very tightly. "Damn, was that really necessary?" sighed Roger, reaching his hand down there. "You're fine," Sergei replied, moving away his hand. "No one said modeling was easy. Sometimes the two second shot takes perfect arranging, so stop fidgeting and let us do our jobs dressing you." Roger stood as still as he could, feeling some stretching garments ride up his legs and then felt them being squished together a bit at his thighs. He heard the sound of duct tape ripping and felt them pulling at his tight pec muscles and then some itching across his back. Brenda now was rubbing at his lips with her brush and then lifting and spraying his hair while Sergei was tying his laces as he felt them close over his ankles. "One more second and you can open Roger. Let's get those last few touches right before we shoot again," said Von. "I want the element of surprise in your reaction while I shoot. I want your unbridled emotion." He gasped for a moment, feeling the tightness at his neck and then heard the snap at his left wrist before he heard Von's voice. "Action," said Von as everyone scrambled from the shoot area and Roger looked straight ahead, momentarily blinded by the constant flashes. "What the fuck!" said Roger, getting immediately annoyed looking down and seeing his outfit. He stretched his right leg, seeing the worn black army boot tied three or four inches above each ankle and couldn't believe he was looking at his hairless legs beneath red fishnet stockings. Around his waist was a red, grey, and white pleated mini-skirt, and his tight abs were on full display underneath a short cut off t-shirt with the large red tongue across the font. He did like the Rolling Stones, but not like this, seeing the black bra strap poke out from under the cut out collar and he stared at the small cleavage showing on one side, realizing they had stuffed his bra a little and pulled his pectoral muscles inward toward each other, as he could make out the edge of the black duct tape under the bra. Around each wrist was a thick studded leather cuff and he reached up, feeling a matching one around his neck. "This is bullshit," screamed Roger. "I didn't sign up for this. I'm supposed to be a stud!" "Damn right you did," said Von. "Action, fellas." Roger was stunned as the two large muscle guys, in nothing more than studded black briefs now jumped into the shot grabbing him and restraining him as they posed him. They lifted him from the ground, pretending to lick between his chest while the other stuck his face between Roger's legs as he struggled and kicked. "Stop, no more," yelled Roger, fighting them off. "Please! Enough." "You're doing so well," said Von, approaching with the camera, taking shot after shot of Roger panicking. "Stop Von! Stop the camera," screamed Roger, as he soon found his left wrist cuff secured to a post and they stretched out the other arm. "Make it count and we won't tie the other," yelled Von. "Show me the unbridled emotion and then we've got something." As he tucked his arm away from having it shackled to the other post, the reflex found it wind around the neck of one of the muscle guys. Immediately he realized this was a rehearsed action as the muscle guy squeezed Roger's abdomen with his massive biceps, popping open his mouth and before he could catch the slightest gasp of air, he found the guy's tongue swishing against his tonsils. He did his best twisting his neck away, but it was almost useless as the kiss nibbled across his closed lips a few times. What was just a few seconds was like an absolute eternity as the camera's high speed stutter snapped dozens of stills, capturing the unexpected passion. "You mother fuckers," yelled Roger, seeing his dark lipstick smeared about the guys lips and then his friends applauding and laughing as they came out from behind the one way glass. "You're some kisser, Rog," said Liz. "Who knew?" said Tiffany, cracking up. "And he's got much better legs than either of you two," said Dean. "And of course cute little tits," said Donnie as they all cracked up. "You went too far, you assholes," said Roger. "Unshackle me, you jerkoffs." "He's much too pretty for a stud," teased Dean, ducking as Roger reached out, grabbing the folding chair and whipped it at him. "What the fuck is going on here?" said a large black man coming in. "I was good with the whole joke and photo shoot thing, provided we got paid for everything and you would all behave. You just wiped out a six thousand dollar camera and two light towers, asshole. Somebody owes me six grand at least." "Wait, I paid fifteen hundred on his card," said Liz. "I don't know anything about the rest. He did that himself." "Yeah that was for the makeup artist and Von," said the man. "Now who's paying for the camera and the damage to my studio? It's not like we could sell these pictures! No one's buying this crap!" "We don't have money like that on us!" said Dean. "No way, and that was all him." "Don't look at me?" said Roger. "I had nothing to do with this until they fucked with me. They punked me and maxed out my credit card. Now undo this damn shackle and let me out of here. Sorry you got fucked over, but sometimes that happens when people get punked." "They punked you?" said the man, scratching his chin. "Then so will I! I think I can sell that. Brenda, call Wanda and get her team here within the hour." "Wait, what does that mean?" asked Roger, getting nervous. "I guess you never read your contract before you signed it!" said the man, grinning and pointing to himself. "It means I own your ass. Read it and weep. While you're in my studio, you're Tyrone's property and I'm going to make something out of this, since obviously you can't pay me." "Bullshit," said Roger. "I was supposed to get paid for this." "Yes, you made $500 today, but you owe me the difference of $5500 for everything else, and I intend to collect. It means you're my little model until that debt is paid off just like everyone else that signs the deal," Tyrone told him before looking over at his friends. "I'll have to ask you to leave unless you intend to model and help him pay his debt. I'm sure I can do something interesting with the two girls?" "No, we're out of here," said Dean, grabbing his girlfriend's hand. "Call us when you're done, Rog." "Guys, don't leave," yelled Roger. "Guys, please don't leave me stuck here." "Yeah, like the time he left us hand cuffed in the woods when we were drunk," said Dean. "Remember I pissed myself as I couldn't hold it any longer, until you came back in the morning." "Or how about when he left us without shoes and we walked home in the middle of the night on the gravel road," said Donnie. "Happy modeling, asshole. Can't wait to publish the pictures online like you did of us in the Pride parade." "Shit," sighed Roger as the door closed shut behind his friends. "I like your punked idea, sweetie," said Tyrone, walking right up to him and gently touching his face, lifting his chin. "I can really do something with that." "Don't call me, sweetie," replied Roger, annoyed. "Don't treat me like some little possession of yours. Uncuff me and get me out of these girly bullshit clothes!" "Maybe you should get a better look at yourself, and you'll change your tune," said Tyrone, wheeling over a full length mirror. "I think you look sweet now, but once we crank up the volume, you're going to look outrageous. Sweet doesn't sell in this business, but outrageous... that's a different story!" Roger's bitching stopped for a moment as he got the full view of himself in the mirror. It wasn't that horrible seeing the black combat boots on his feet, but his legs under a mini and cut off t-shirt with apparent boobs was sickening. He couldn't believe how much makeup Brenda had plastered onto his face, oddly seeing his thick dark lashes flash as he blinked, and his teased hair barely move. It was like he was in some bad 80's rock band, noticing how the over blushed pink cheekbones sat in a triangle on his face, and the smeared burgandy lipstick across his lower lip reminded him instantly of the most revolting moment of his life that he couldn't soon forget. "Ok enough now! Let me out of here," said Roger, struggling to free his wrist. "I look like a freak." "That's one opinion, I guess," said Tyrone rolling a chair behind him so he could sit. "You turned out just fine for a prank, but what I can tell is the camera does like you. Sit and let me show you." Getting tired from struggling, Roger relented, sitting for a moment and looking up as Tyrone clicked on a video screen and began scrolling through some pictures, showing Roger the shots. "Stop, please. I can't look at myself like this," screamed Roger, turning away. "They're fucking gross." "No, it's just that you're not fully committed in these," said Tyrone. "It was a quickie and not our best work. My team is much better than this." "No that's not what I'm saying, you asshole," said Roger looking away. "I'm going to puke seeing myself like some freaky club kid with that monster's tongue in my mouth. I pranked my friends, making them march in the parade like little fruit cakes, but they took this fag thing way too far!" "Don't you worry," said Tyrone, walking behind him now and pulling back on the leather collar as he instantly felt restrained. "I have no intention of casting any doubt about your sexuality. They'll be no short cuts for your next shoot. When I'm involved, we're fully committed." "Stop, please," screamed Roger, catching his breath and realizing he could no longer move his neck at all. "I'm sorry. Let's do whatever shoot you want, and just get this over with. I'm cool. Please go ahead. I can't stay like this." "You're right," said Tyrone, tightening the buckle on the leather collar as he instantly gasped for air. "You can't keep bitching. We've got work to do. I'm glad you agree." As he gasped, he was unable to fight the small gag as it entered his mouth, muffling his objection. Tyrone now freed his wrist as he found himself sitting comfortably yet restrained in the chair in the middle of the studio, with no one around and Tyrone making phone calls. He looked up watching the seconds tick off the clock, realizing he had been sitting there for over an hour, until finally he saw some new faces enter with some boxes, and then Bianca approach him. She walked behind him hoping she was there for his release, but instantly he found himself being wheeled across the studio towards the area where she did his makeup. He watched as she mixed a series of bowls and then a short and stocky, heavily tattooed woman joined her. "They call me Wanda," said the woman, looking at him as she dropped the back of his chair back to a sloping position and was making a snipping motion with a large scissor in her hand. "I wonder what they'll be calling you. I'm sure Tyrone will pick something fitting." "Stop scaring my model, Wanda," said Tyrone, coming over showing Wanda and Brenda a few pictures in a few magazines. "You two get the idea. It was too Boy George before. I want the sexiness of Joan Jett with the edge of Pink. Get some Marilyn Manson in there but find a way to still channel a soft sensuality. I don't want goth and I don't want grunge. Let's find that middle ground, yet I want her to pop off the page. Give me that look." "We can do that," said Wanda, dipping the scissors towards Roger's chest. "I've got some great ideas." "Stoooppp," Roger grabbed Wanda's hand, worried where the scissors were going. "What the fuck!!!!" "Told you we'd need these," said Wanda, pushing down his right wrist, securing it to the arm rest of the chair and then quickly doing the other. "Better off this way, so we can work without issue." He was wincing, feeling the blades across his chest and then arms. He was finally relieved, seeing his now shredded shirt and bra tossed away and then convulsed in pain as she ripped the tape from his chest. "I do like some of the look here and a few things for the other," said Brenda, pointing to the magazine and ignoring Roger's whimpering. "Good. Get to work then, ladies," said Tyrone, looking down at Roger. "Try to relax. I think the end result will be sensational." As Tyrone disappeared from his line of sight, Brenda draped a white plastic cape over his bare chest and tilted the chair down even further as he looked to his right and realized his head had been dropped into a sink. He felt the water soak his hair and she massaged it a few times before combing through it and creating some sections on the right near his ear. While Brenda was combing and separating, Roger could feel Wanda's fingers on his chest, followed by a cold sensation around his right nipple. A little tingling moved across his chest now as he was becoming numb to her touch, squirming until it was quickly halted, feeling a strap cover his hips constricting further movement and he felt her hands sliding across his abdomen. He had no idea what she was doing as she stepped away, giving him some momentary relief, until he shivered seeing her pinching open a small silver clothes type pin. When she leaned in he felt nothing but some slight pressure at his chest, and there was no opposition now, he could pose fully strapped down now. His attention turned back to Brenda as she was tugging tightly in a few places and then he could see her covering his forehead with the plastic glove on her left hand, while squeezing a plastic bottle in the right as she saturated the crown and back of his head. She massaged everywhere now and when she finished, she took a slice of tin foil before dipping a brush into a bowl, painting the sections on the right which she had separated before wrapping in the foils. He knew none of this could be good, but instantly his concerns turned to fear, seeing Wanda lift the white cape off his chest, scrunching it towards his neck with a long silver needle in her hand. He couldn't feel much at first as she pressed at his waist before jerking as he felt the instant pinch. Tears were flowing down each cheek as moans reverberated through his gag as Wanda took a moment wiping them with a tissue and then returned to her work. As he panicked, panting through his gag, he could feel slight pressure now at his right nipple and then the left. She was like a surgeon working with the sheet partially covering his vision, as he could see her shoulders move but not most of her arms or hands. She pushed down hard, now pressing all over before finally pulling the sheet back down as he was shivering. He could see Brenda looking down into his eyes smiling now as she took her fingers, closing his eyes. She rubbed all over his lids and then it felt gooey as she pressed on both sides. She opened and closed his eyes many times, pulling at his lashes with a curler and then finally pushed them closed, holding the lids. He could feel the heat coating his brows now and it wasn't long before he felt the ripping on his forehead. As he opened his eyes, he could see the tweezers approaching, feeling pinch after pinch as she refined her work and then jumped to the other side, repeating the process. Finally when she finished, he heard the water switch and felt her massaging at the back of his head, providing momentary relief, until he saw Wanda sliding a metal device right in front of his eyes and resting it on his left cheekbone. His eyes widened, terrified, as he felt the cold metal enter his right nostril and there was nothing he could do, feeling the chilling pinch. He could see Wanda back away smiling, pleased with her work as finally Brenda switched off the water. He looked over, seeing Brenda roll a little table over toward his left side and then could feel her lifting his left index finger. He could hear the clipping at his nail before being distracted by a loud buzzing sound as two young men joined Wanda. She held up up a large needle in front of his face, unable to stop his shiver, seeing it as he could feel some pressure at his right shoulder. "Tyrone, you have to let me be or my work will be a disaster," yelled Wanda, turning off the buzzing. "With my full team here now, an hour and a half should be enough. Come back later, then we'll wake sleeping beauty and finish." "Fine, but no more," said Tyrone. "The set will be here and assembled by seven and it's already five. We'll need final dressing time and certainly touch up." "An hour or so without resistance is like three," said Wanda, sliding a syringe into a tube. "Time for a break, sweet cheeks." Roger knew it was going to be bad as Wanda reached her hands under his back and unsnapped his shirt. In a few quick tugs, he felt her pull his skirt and briefs past his hips and felt a jab into his left butt cheek. In a few moments, he was feeling woozy as she tugged off his boots and he was struggling to keep his eyes open seconds after he watched his remaining garments hit the floor. "Welcome back, sugar," said Brenda as he felt a soft brush across his cheeks. "Better re-buckle her, so she stays clam," said Wanda. "We've got quite a bit still to do. Sorry, but we're behind schedule, but I think it'll be worth it." "I'll need maybe a half hour on the hair now that she can hold her head up," said Brenda. "And just my touch ups on the makeup when you're done with the rest." "Those are all with the gun, so I'll fly through them," said Wanda. "With all the hair out of the way, it'll be much easier." "I figured," said Brenda as they leaned his chair upward to a sitting position. He was groggy as he tried moving but realized he was still shackled. The second he realized the gag was out of his mouth, he began to open it, feeling some sensation as Wanda pushed at his chin. "Don't speak and don't you dare spit this out," said Wanda. "You do and I'll shove that nasty ball back in, understand?" Roger gave a little nod, looking down seeing his entire body was covered in the white sheet as Brenda switched on her blow dryer and was finger combing his hair as she removed any last moisture. At the nape of his neck, she lifted his hair, sliding in a pin and then he felt slight warmth at his skin as she pressed. She released his hair and then moved up a little, repeating the process once again. She walked out in front of him now, holding a series of long silver pins between her teeth and created a part with her rat-tailed comb maybe four or five inches above his ear on the left side. She took pin after pin, tightly pulling all his hair across to the right and then looked over at Wanda. "I'm glad Tyrone chose going authentic," said Wanda, handing Brenda an electric shear as she snapped a small edge on it. "That's going to be hot." "I think so too. Hold her steady for me," said Brenda, turning on the buzzer as Wanda placed her left hand on his forehead and the left at the back, pinching it tightly as she stood out of the way on the right. Roger barely knew what to think feeling the edge of the blade vibrate against his head and feeling his hair tumble past his ear as Brenda worked front to back. When she finished, Wanda released her grip and Brenda went to work with her scissors, clipping everywhere. It seemed crazy as she was pulling his hair in every direction and constantly teasing and spraying, as he was trying to figure out what they were doing. He knew it wasn't going to be good seeing Wanda load a larger piercing gun this time and felt the pop on his left ear as Brenda continued teasing on the other side. As she loaded it again, he figured she would be heading to the right but surprised him, working over and over on the left side as he quivered. Finally as Brenda worked at the back of his head, she did pop his right ear but just once as Brenda came back out in front, holding her flat iron in one hand and her razor shear in the other. She slid her iron through a few sections on top and sliced through some of his hair as she worked. After ten more minutes, she saturated him in hair spray and then took a pencil, touching his lips. "You can tell Tyrone we're ready," said Brenda, picking with her fingers. "This stiff stuff sets in no time." "This should be interesting," said Wanda, smiling at Roger. Tyrone came over now, carefully inspecting the hair and makeup, circling him. "Spit the bit, honey," said Tyrone. "Let's see the smile. Careful, it'll be a bit sore, and don't ruin that lovely face." Happily, Roger spit out the mouthpiece into Wanda's plastic glove. He felt better taking a deep breath, gaining the slightest sense of relief as he was finally able to breathe through his mouth. "Please, no more," whined Roger. "Why would you do all this to me? I'll pay. Let me up and I'll do what you need so I can leave. None of this could be in any contract." "You should have done a better job reading the fine print and controlling your emotions," said Tyrone smiling and turning away. "Challenge me and this can be twice as difficult. Time to get to work. The crew is ready and we're already behind." "I'll help you up as you'll need a little time to adjust," said Wanda, sliding the sheet, holding his right wrist as she began unbuckling him. "Give me a minute to undo stuff." Roger looked down, seeing the glisten of the long black varnished nails which extended from his fingers as she released his wrist. He lifted his wrist, flexing it as the three dozen or so thin silver bangles chimed, colliding in a slinky like manner as he stretched his arm and separated his fingers, staring at the various types of skull and silver rings which decorated every digit. As Wanda moved to the other side, he couldn't believe his eyes as this time his nails and rings were the least of his worries, behind a thick black leather silver studded bracelet, unable to believe his arm was now covered in a complete sleeve tattoo. "No fucking way," screamed Roger. "How long was I out?" "Stop being a baby," Wanda chuckled as she released his collar from the chair. "Those take weeks. You're not really inked. It'll wear off eventually." "Take my hand," said Brenda pulling the sheet off him. "This is insane," screamed Roger looking down as his body as he immediately wobbled. "Why me? Why?" "The camera loved you girlfriend," said Tyrone, nodding as he walked over, getting his first full inspection. "Now this is the shit I'm talking about ladies. You both killed it!" "Oh you killed me alright," cried Roger. "How the fuck am I going to go back to my life after this. I'll be the laughing stock of anyone that knows me, once they see what you already took, let alone what I'll be doing now!" "Oh, I differ with you there, babe," said Tyrone, patting his ass. "You're the fresh face I need. I'm going to call you Destiny. Now move your pretty little ass and let's get to it." "Destiny, I like that," said Wanda. Taking his arm as he struggled to walk. "You make a much better chick than you ever did a pretty boy anyway, Destiny." "I'm no babe. I'm no chick," Roger teared up. "Don't you dare tear up, honey! You're so much more than just a chick, trust me you are a babe!" said Brenda, immediately sucking up the tear with a powder puff. "I used mostly waterproof stuff on you, but I still don't want you a mess. Try to take a few small steps on your own towards the set, and go see how sexy you look. Your transformation is just magnificent." Roger took tiny steps learning to balance in his shoes and outfit. The ten feet seemed like the longest walk of his life, feeling numbness in some places and discomfort in others. "Holy shit," Roger cried out. "This is not what I meant by punked. This is punked from some other era. I must be dreaming." Roger's fingers were trembling beyond his control as the only sound registering in his mind was that of his teeth chattering. His body had certainly been reshaped in his new outfit, but the changes to his face were beyond even what he imagined. He took another few steps closer, thinking he was looking at some freakish girl from a bad music video rather than himself, unable to comprehend how it had gone this far. He reached both of his hands up, careful to use the underside of his fingers as he felt some tenderness on his face, disturbing his new piercing, as he instantly knew they were authentic. His simple brunette eye brows were reduced to a single pencil line and a silver barbell pierced the right brow. From his right nostril hung a silver ring matching the one which now pierced the left side of his lower lip. His makeup was extremely dramatic, as his lips were outlined in a dusky charcoal and filled in with the darkest maroon matte color at their fullest parts, before fading to a lighter glossier scarlet red in the middle where they touched. His lashes had certainly been extended and he had the thickest black liner on he had ever seen. He touched his exposed left ear, which had been studded a dozen times with tiny silver balls from the lobe all the way around to the top, and in his right ear hug a long dangling earring which resembled a silver dagger. Once this day of horror would finally be over, he knew one of the first things on his agenda after pulling out all these piercings would be his first crew cut since grammar school. His longisht type brunette locks had been dyed jet black and arranged with an undeniable punk rock flare. On top and completely around to the right ear, his hair had been teased in a spikey long layered rock and roll style. In the back, Brenda had added some shoulder blade length black layers with obvious extensions, and on his right shoulder where pink and platinum streaks mixed between the long black layers, making it really pop. On the left though he now knew what all the buzzing noise was about, as she had completely shaved off a three or four inch stretch from front to back which absolutely made the inked sleeve and fully studded ear pop as he touched the dark fuzz. On his forehead sat very short uneven taped bangs which graduated to super short near the buzzed section, and he turned his head back and forth watching his hair barely move, wishing he had never gotten up this morning. He took one cautious step back, staring down at his feet which were enclosed in shiny patent leather black ankle boots, which had a thick silver side zipper and a four inch stiletto heel. The metallic toe shone like a mirror as he looked down, matching the silver heel, and the boots were decorated with silver studs and a series of chains dangled from the ankle bone cuff. On his legs were black fishnet stockings which had a few distinct tears in the netting on each leg before disappearing into his ultra-tight micro-mini, black leather skirt. With his long claw like nails, he touched the dangling naval piercing he now had, watching the little skull head jewel wobble back, and twisted seeing his lower back tattoo where interlocking hearts were sitting on a series of twisted thorny vines at the base of his spine. This was simply too much to handle but he was amazed at how much cleavage they had faked on him, as his at least "D" sized breasts almost appeared to be busting out of the spiked cups of his rib length leather bustier. He reached up with his inked left arm, grossed out at its sight, feeling the protruding cleavage and knowing it was his. He scratched at the little rose tattoo on that breast and then tried moving the bustier' s single strap to get comfortable as it dug into his right shoulder, which was decorated in back by a violet butterfly but to no avail. "Time to make love to the camera, Destiny," said Tyrone. "Looks to me like you're digging what you see." Roger opened his mouth, ready to bitch and moan but had no idea what to say, amazed at how big his lips appeared against his whitened teeth. "Let's get Destiny to set one, please," said Tyrone as Roger found two men approach him and lift him from his feet by each arm. Before he could even blink, the hot lights went on and he was leaning against a Harley Davison, being posed and positioned as Von was hustling in every direction, snapping pictures. "You're good with the nasty attitude shots, Destiny," Von told him as he snapped pic after pic. "Now smile a little please." Roger looked up, seeing Tyrone staring through him and gulped as he began smiling. Von constantly changed his pose as he sat on the bike, straddled it and then sat in a riding position. "Outstanding," yelled Tyrone after thirty minutes shooting as they wheeled the Harley away. "That's going to be fabulous." "Oh, thank goodness," said Roger, taking a deep breath. "Where are my clothes? Is someone going to help me out of all this?" "Sip this honey. I know it's hot under those lights," said Von, handing him a water bottle. "We'll give you five while I change sets." "You're kidding right?" said Roger as Brenda approached, reapplying some blush. "We didn't even get to the good stuff, Destiny," said Tyrone, laughing as he sipped his water. "That was your warm up!" "Just be still and we'll change you Destiny," said Brenda as she unzipped his skirt. He looked down as she quickly pulled off his shoes and kicked away the skirt, as within seconds his hose and panties were down as he was naked from the waist down. "Spread those sweet cheeks," said Wanda, who came over now with a roll of duct tape and knelt in front of him taping his thigh. She wasted no time wrapping his momentarily free manhood and sliding the tape between his butt cheeks. It was only a matter of seconds as Brenda now had his ankles inside ruby red leather pants, sliding them up to his waist. She then took a sleeveless blue denim vest, sliding it over his bustier and helped him back into his ankle boots. She looked him over before touching up his lips as Wanda ran her fingers between his legs, sliding them over his crotch area as she circled him, checking out their work. "She's ready," said Wanda, walking away as Tyrone pointed towards a black curtain. Roger spun around as they slid open a curtain, revealing a small wooden stage two steps up from the ground. He walked over gingerly, climbing the steps and a guitar strap was placed over his back as he stood there holding the metallic instrument. He posed, following their instructions and then they took it away, placing a microphone stand decorated with some long flowing silk scarfs. Finally this session was over as they again quickly attended to him, changing him and touching up his face. Gone quickly was his denim vest and leather pants, but oddly this time she only held a small bag and his ripped fish nets. It took only seconds sliding the frayed fish nets back on, followed by his shoes, and she took a moment trimming at the rear of the fish nets as he felt the scissors uncomfortably on his ass. She opened the bag taking out a small black leather panty, carefully sliding it up each leg and pulling it on tightly. It had a small silver stud around the waistband, giving it a belted look with the rest of the studs arranged over the crotch area in a V-shape. It was super tight and pinching him tightly between his legs and as she adjusted it, tugging before zipping the open back. He spun around seeing them rolling in a round leopard sheeted bed and knew this wasn't going to be good. Von led him over to the bed and tapped it as Roger followed, sitting on the edge of the bed as Brenda took a moment spraying his hair. They positioned him, crossing his legs with his arms folded looking pissed off and then spread his arms apart, with his fingers spread wide on the bed and his leg now spread eagled. He did as he was told and then laid back as they slid him up as he found himself staring up at the lights. As he looked to his left and then right, they were positioning vibrators, hands cuffs, a whip, and a few other sex toys around him on the bed snapping away. He smiled, made angry faces, and faked being asleep, hopeful this would be all they asked. Happily the scene was finally over as they all huddled while he sat up and sitting there, awaiting any direction. "Get up, you did well," said Tyrone. "Last scene Destiny, if you put your all into it. Walk over to the little red rug." "To end all this, absolutely," said Roger, standing up as they took away the scene and walked over as he stood on the piece of shag carpet. "You're moving better in your heels now, sugar," said Tyrone, walking over to him and stripping off his shirt. "You're adjusting nicely." "You're in this scene with me?" asked Roger, seeing Tyrone's huge ripped chest and arms. "Part of me is," said Tyrone, holding out a chain. "Now I'd listen carefully if I was you." "Oh shit," said Roger as his eyes looked stunned as Tyrone clipped the chain on his collar. He was half choking as Tyrone yanked on it and pushed him towards the floor. As he fell to his knees, he couldn't believe his eyes as Tyrone's pants fell to his ankles as they brought over a stool. He sat facing the red rug, wrapping the chain around his hand, shortening it as Roger was feeling faint as he was in a kneeling position, staring down at Tyrone's massive ten inch erection. "Just stroke slowly while we take some stills," said Tyrone. "Be a good girl and follow my instructions, or we can do this the hard way." "Fuck you, asshole," said Roger. "This was already way out of control. I'm not touching that." "Hard way it is, then," said Tyrone, nodding at Wanda as Roger felt a small jolt at each nipple. "What the fuck is that!" screamed Roger, grapping his chest with both hands. "Holy shit, stop." "It's just a little control mechanism, Destiny," said Tyrone. "You've been such a good little model we haven't needed it. I'll only use it if we have to, but in time you may learn to really enjoy it." "Enjoy what?" screamed Roger. "You fucking zapped me with something. Get that shit off me!" "Good luck getting that off my dear. That will certainly take some time," Tyrone smiled. "You see under your wonderful silicon falsies, we have gently placed some little nipple clamps on your real nips. With the touch of my remote I can give you a variety of interesting pulses. Should I demonstrate further?" "No please," Roger pulled at the bustier. "Just get this shit off me. I've had enough." "Oh Destiny, don't be such a party pooper," Tyrone chuckled. "You'll need a specific adhesive remover to get those off, which obviously you don't have. Without it you'd have to cut off half your skin and we wouldn't want to scar that beautiful body of yours. Would we? Now let's get on with your last session. We've already sold and emailed some of the shots from the first sessions. This day and age of the web is wonderful. It allows my buyers to see my work so quickly. These next ones will certainly go to a different type of clientele though. Now let's get a move on." Tyrone nodded as Wanda pressed the remote and Roger felt a stronger jolt to his chest, this time falling to his knees. When it stopped, he took a moment catching his breath as Tyrone took his hand and placed it on his now semi-limp member. It only took a few strokes as Roger felt Tyrone coming to life and looked up at him, smiling down at him. He yanked on the chain, pulling him closer as he tried keeping his eyes closed, knowing it was only inches from his face. "Make love to my camera, Destiny," said Von, shooting away. "You've been so wonderful all day, and it's no time to stop now. Let's see some tongue and some of your best kissing." "I can't. Please, I'm not gay!" cried Roger. "I just cannnnnnnnn." Roger felt a much deeper pulse tensing up his entire body. As it stopped, he opened his eyes, seeing Tyrone looking down at him angrily, giving a few yanks on his chain as he had no option but to kiss Tyrone's member. The camera snapped away as he licked everywhere and then felt Tyrone push down on his neck, forcing his member inside his mouth. As he tried pulling up, he felt the next shock zapping him, forcing him to convulse down even further on Tyrone's manhood. The pulses started and stopped a few times, electrifying him as he bobbed up and down as Roger had little control sucking on Tyrone. Finally, after the longest minute of his life, Tyrone pulled out as Roger was panting out of breath. "She'll do fine," said Tyrone, as Roger was thrilled it was over so quickly. "Stand up bitch and be happy we didn't need a money shot." He took his wrist wiping his face and was surprised as Tyrone yanked on the chain, pulling him to his feet. He quickly found his neck shackled to a post as he stood there, at least relieved to see Tyrone pull up his pants, realizing Tyrone let him off the hook without exploding in his mouth. "Aren't we done?" cried Roger. "Please, I did what you wanted. Even that!" "The shoot is over yes," said Tyrone. "You need plenty more practice to have any future. Be happy I decided not to be your first." "The original one, right Tyrone," said Brenda, walking over towards Roger, holding a few articles of clothing. "Yeah, I think it was the best on her," said Tyrone. Brenda knelt in front of him holding his leather skirt. She slipped both his legs inside it and slid it up his legs over his panty, zipping it shut. He stood there as Tyrone made some calls and then finally he came over, unclipping him from the post as he found himself leashed with the chain. "Please, now what?" asked Roger. "I thought we were done." "You are. Work is over," said Tyrone. "I'm taking you out now." "Like this!" screamed Roger. "No, please no." It was beyond his worst nightmare as Roger was being dragged out of the studio on a leash and he soon found himself in the back of Tyrone's long white stretch limo. He sat there with Tyrone as they drove off into the night, stunned at the day's events. "Here, do a few shots and you'll relax," said Tyrone as Roger downed some nasty scotch. He was pumping shot after shot into him as he was feeling at least a touch tipsy on his empty stomach, until suddenly the limo door opened in the back of a dark alley. Tyrone stepped out, pulling Roger by the leash with him as he soon found himself being dragged down some dark halls. "You better shake that tight little ass, bitch," Tyrone ordered as they pushed open a door. "Earn your money." "What money?" said Roger, as he was yanked up a few stairs. "It's no matter," said Tyrone, dragging him another ten feet. "I've got the remote in my pocket if you need some convincing. Now enjoy being 'Destiny'." Roger heard the metal clipping behind him and looked back, seeing Tyrone fade away in the darkness. "You've got to be fucking kidding?" said Roger, momentarily blinded by the bright lights as they switched on, realizing Tyrone has snapped a lock at the end of his leash. He pulled on it, instantly resigning himself that he was chained like a dog to a floor to ceiling silver pole. He looked down seeing the light begin to enter, realizing a dark curtain was lifting from the floor. As it rose he could hear cheering and whistling, unable to believe his situation as he looked out at the crowd. He was stunned seeing a series of other girls on stage with him at various poles as the music began. Startled, he pulled away his foot, almost falling into a redneck looking man, who was looking up at him. He was frozen, panning the crowd and other girls dancing as he soon felt the buzzing sensation at his chest, forcing him to pulsate as the men started waving singles at him. He could see Tyrone nodding and changing dials as he felt varying pulses forcing him against the pole as he grabbed on and knew he had to begin dancing. It must have been over an hour as he was growing tired of gyrating and twirling in his pointy heels, seeing girl after girl take breaks while be never got one. He was repulsed by men gawking at him, happy they could only reach far enough onto the elevated stage, touching his legs as he stayed back as far as he could while he did his horrible pole dancing. Finally he was relieved, seeing the curtain lower in front of him and never so happy to be dragged away by his leash. He was pretty tired now as Tyrone brought him into a small private room that had nothing but a couch and a few lounge chairs. Again he was chained to the solo pole in the room, but didn't uttered a single complaint as Tyrone let him sit for a moment and have a few drinks. "Here Destiny. It's your phone," said Tyrone, spinning the phone in front of Roger. Roger looked down, seeing a message from Dean. "How sexy were you today? Looks like you enjoyed the skirt and a little tongue action. Think about that tonight while me and Donnie are partying at Craig's bachelor party. Who's the fag now, you punk bitch!" "Time to complete your final scene for tonight, Destiny," said Tyrone. "Your idiot friends were so hammered they had no idea it was you dancing right in front of their eyes. This is going to teach all of you a lesson about humility, and I'm pretty sure after tonight, none of you will have a cruel thing to say about gays again. Remember this can be the easy way or the hard way. I'll let you choose." Tyrone squeezed his collar tightly as Donnie and Dean were now brought into the private room. He was gasping a bit for his breath as Dean, hammered out of his mind, leaned back at the wall as Donnie was guzzling from a bottle. "I've got a wild one for you boys," said Tyrone. "Sure you can handle her?" "Oh yeah," said Dean, walking right up to Roger and plunging his tongue directly into his mouth. The second Roger went to push him back, Tyrone pressed the clicker as Roger screeched a bit, opening his mouth even wider. Dean was turned on, jamming his tongue even deeper into Roger's mouth before they finally broke the kiss when Donnie pushed his way in. He took his turn, starting with some soft gentle kisses, but quickly slid down his face, biting down extremely hard on Roger's neck. As he did, his hands were all over Roger's breasts, squeezing mostly the fake silicon through the tight bustier. As he did, Tyrone was intermittently zapping him gently as Roger moaned with every squeeze and love bite. "You too are digging my punk princess I see. Why don't you boys take turns letting her taste your nectar," said Tyrone, kicking the back of Roger's thigh, forcing him to his knees. "Her name is Destiny." "Oh yeah! I'm digging Destiny big time," said Dean, pushing his friend over. "My turn dickhead." Dean didn't waist a second, dropping his jeans to the floor as Roger knew this time it wouldn't be posing like in the photo shoot. He closed his eyes, feeling the buzzing sensation, reached out and grabbed Dean's rock hard member. It quickly intensified as Tyrone pushed down on the back of his head and he knew he had little choice, engulfing his prank buddy. Tyrone held his head, forcing him to bob and suck as thankfully he turned off the shock. It was much easier to fit in his mouth over Dean's than Tyrone's manhood, but was lasting much longer and he was pushing much deeper. He was ready to pass out, feeling his friend tense up and tried pulling back, but Tyrone, sensing what was happening, pushed down hard. He had no choice accepting his friend's cum, choking as it was dripping from the corners of his mouth as he gagged, swallowing plenty. "Damn, she's fucking awesome at this," said Dean, sitting back at a lounge chair. "You'll have to clean up yourself, asshole," said Donnie. "Don't be silly, fellas," said Tyrone. "Destiny's here to please. If you'll allow me to make a suggestion, why don't you allow her to clean your buddy while I allow you a different course of enjoyment?" "Fine!" said Donnie, a bit annoyed. "But it's my turn, and I'm hot for the bitch too." "Unbuckle him, Destiny!" ordered Tyrone as Roger looked up at him. As he moved his finger towards the remote, Roger quickly grabbed Donnie's jeans, undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry, seeing his friends' batman briefs as he dropped them to his ankles and knew what he had to do, quickly engulfing Donnie. "No, no dear," said Tyrone, pulling Roger up by the neck. "Crawl a few steps and lick Dean clean while he relaxes a bit. I believe Dean is more of a taker, while it appears Donnie is more the giving type. You seem much more aggressive Donnie? Am I right?" "Oh crap," cried Roger, finding himself on all fours as Tyrone kicked