Chasing after feeling
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,537
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,537
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I hold all rights to the story. It's work of fiction. All resemblances to real life people are accidentals.
Chasing after feeling
Chasing after feeling
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Hi! This is first story I have published. If you like it (or have something else to say about it) please comment and tell me. Enjoy!
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Mike sits on his bed. He is tired. It has been an empty empty day… again. Like it has been yesterday and day before that and day before that… It feels like after high school he lost his directions and is now drifting aimless in a fog from indiscernible moment to other. True, he is in college now. In medicine program like everyone thought he would go to ‘cause “he’s so bright he can do anything and so kind - he wants to help everyone”. So he has a purpose… Right?
Mike lies down. Is there purpose in his existence if others see it but he can’t see it? Can’t feel it. He turns his head and sees his laptop on his night table. Drags his hand up and turns it on. Courses are easy. Maybe they will get more difficult with time. It’s just halfway through second semester now.
The laptop powers up and he starts the internet and goes to one of his favourite sites. Can you be addicted to reading? And not reading just something but almost any kind of kink and fetish you can find. Being kidnapped, force-feed, spanked, whipped, used, stretched, tortured, made to submit totally to someone else’s whims. To be made feel less empty. To be made feel something. He ached with the tought. He could feel his body stirring weakly and he wanted to cry with sensation. It was these moment that let him go on. How he hoped that they were reality and not just figments of his sick mind. Because he have to be sick to want these things, right?
Hi looked at his hands. His wrists. Could he make himself feel? It was a thought that had gone through his mind time and time again but again he pushed it away. he wasn’t so weak yet. Others could see it. would know how weak he was. He wouldn’t allow it. He could get through this.
Next he looks toward his worktable, his gaze setting on the wine bottle he have left there for these kind of moments. He stands, strips and gets the bottle and hand lotion next to it. Goes back to his bed and lies down again. Lifts his legs, smears his hands with lotion and finds a story about forced penetration starting to read and finger himself – not too much just enough to allow what he have on mind but so that it will still hurt, still feel.
When he comes to the point in story where man is about to rape the other, he takes the socks that he keeps just for this purpose from under his pillow shows them in his mouth, lightly greases the bottle and shoves it to himself the bottom first keeping a tight grip on the bottle’s neck – it wouldn’t do to lose grip of it and have to go to hospital to get it out. Too much to explain. His screams are muffled by the socks in his mouth and his effort to stay silent. He despises it. He would want to scream until his throat is raw. To have that ache later to prove he is alive. But he lives in student apartment. The walls are thin and don’t give you any privacy. It would be bad if someone heard him and thought there was something wrong – or even worse called police! There’s no way he could explain this to them.
Tears fall from his eyes but he barely realizes it. He feels. His backside hurts, throbs and tries to get rid of the cause of all the pain. He starts to move the bottle and goes on reading. After a moment his eyes go glassy and he can no longer focus on the screen. He pumps the bottle as fast as he can hoping he could go and buy or order some real toys when his sweaty hand slips on the bottle’s neck almost losing grip of it. But that would be too dangerous. Someone might see and get too curious. After that hazy thought he succumbs to sensation again. And what a glorious feeling it is!
Later he lies with tears drying on his cheeks and empty gaze focused upwards. Bottle lies abandoned on the floor. There was little red on it – not much. He have learned how much stretching is necessary. Soon he will have to rise up and clean it and put some salve on it to avoid any possibility of infection. That would bring too much attention to him and he dislikes attention. He knows he can’t explain why he does what he does and he doesn’t want to shame his family. And he knows he doesn’t deserve the other people’s attention.
He lies there a moment longer moving a bit now and then. Letting the sensations from his abused rear end wash over him and letting fresh tears fall. His chest aches from the emotions swelling in it after it being so empty for so long. He would like to do this every night but knows it is not physically possible. He needs recovery time and other ways to help himself might be too noticeable to others. He feel he is suffocating when he thinks next few days without this. ‘Stories will be enough’, he assures himself not quite convinced. It’s harder and harder to convince himself of that every time.
He sighs, propels himself up enjoying the twinges of pain and starts towards his bathroom.
---------
Hi! This is first story I have published. If you like it (or have something else to say about it) please comment and tell me. Enjoy!
----------
Mike sits on his bed. He is tired. It has been an empty empty day… again. Like it has been yesterday and day before that and day before that… It feels like after high school he lost his directions and is now drifting aimless in a fog from indiscernible moment to other. True, he is in college now. In medicine program like everyone thought he would go to ‘cause “he’s so bright he can do anything and so kind - he wants to help everyone”. So he has a purpose… Right?
Mike lies down. Is there purpose in his existence if others see it but he can’t see it? Can’t feel it. He turns his head and sees his laptop on his night table. Drags his hand up and turns it on. Courses are easy. Maybe they will get more difficult with time. It’s just halfway through second semester now.
The laptop powers up and he starts the internet and goes to one of his favourite sites. Can you be addicted to reading? And not reading just something but almost any kind of kink and fetish you can find. Being kidnapped, force-feed, spanked, whipped, used, stretched, tortured, made to submit totally to someone else’s whims. To be made feel less empty. To be made feel something. He ached with the tought. He could feel his body stirring weakly and he wanted to cry with sensation. It was these moment that let him go on. How he hoped that they were reality and not just figments of his sick mind. Because he have to be sick to want these things, right?
Hi looked at his hands. His wrists. Could he make himself feel? It was a thought that had gone through his mind time and time again but again he pushed it away. he wasn’t so weak yet. Others could see it. would know how weak he was. He wouldn’t allow it. He could get through this.
Next he looks toward his worktable, his gaze setting on the wine bottle he have left there for these kind of moments. He stands, strips and gets the bottle and hand lotion next to it. Goes back to his bed and lies down again. Lifts his legs, smears his hands with lotion and finds a story about forced penetration starting to read and finger himself – not too much just enough to allow what he have on mind but so that it will still hurt, still feel.
When he comes to the point in story where man is about to rape the other, he takes the socks that he keeps just for this purpose from under his pillow shows them in his mouth, lightly greases the bottle and shoves it to himself the bottom first keeping a tight grip on the bottle’s neck – it wouldn’t do to lose grip of it and have to go to hospital to get it out. Too much to explain. His screams are muffled by the socks in his mouth and his effort to stay silent. He despises it. He would want to scream until his throat is raw. To have that ache later to prove he is alive. But he lives in student apartment. The walls are thin and don’t give you any privacy. It would be bad if someone heard him and thought there was something wrong – or even worse called police! There’s no way he could explain this to them.
Tears fall from his eyes but he barely realizes it. He feels. His backside hurts, throbs and tries to get rid of the cause of all the pain. He starts to move the bottle and goes on reading. After a moment his eyes go glassy and he can no longer focus on the screen. He pumps the bottle as fast as he can hoping he could go and buy or order some real toys when his sweaty hand slips on the bottle’s neck almost losing grip of it. But that would be too dangerous. Someone might see and get too curious. After that hazy thought he succumbs to sensation again. And what a glorious feeling it is!
Later he lies with tears drying on his cheeks and empty gaze focused upwards. Bottle lies abandoned on the floor. There was little red on it – not much. He have learned how much stretching is necessary. Soon he will have to rise up and clean it and put some salve on it to avoid any possibility of infection. That would bring too much attention to him and he dislikes attention. He knows he can’t explain why he does what he does and he doesn’t want to shame his family. And he knows he doesn’t deserve the other people’s attention.
He lies there a moment longer moving a bit now and then. Letting the sensations from his abused rear end wash over him and letting fresh tears fall. His chest aches from the emotions swelling in it after it being so empty for so long. He would like to do this every night but knows it is not physically possible. He needs recovery time and other ways to help himself might be too noticeable to others. He feel he is suffocating when he thinks next few days without this. ‘Stories will be enough’, he assures himself not quite convinced. It’s harder and harder to convince himself of that every time.
He sighs, propels himself up enjoying the twinges of pain and starts towards his bathroom.