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The Hand – 2
A comic gay erotic horror story.
After twelve weeks, I allowed myself to think maybe – just maybe – the doctor and his fucking team were right. That my new right arm's insatiable sex drive was triggered by some sort of incompatibility with my natural left arm, so the left arm had to go and had to be replaced with another perfect match.
Yes, I fucking hear myself. I sound crazy, but what choice did I have? Both arms I was born with were gone. And you can stay holed up in the house afraid of your own arm for only so long. Sooner or later you're going to run out of food or toilet paper or laundry. Sooner or later you're going to notice your body's getting soft like you're married with a bunch of kids and no time to surf. Sooner or later you're going to want company.
First thing I did was take a trial walk around the block. Everything went fine. Granted, my right arm wouldn't wave at the bodacious redhead in the convertible at the stop sign smiling at me, but I told myself I wasn't prepared to try anything with a woman again yet anyway so it didn't matter. As for the left hand picking my nose and shoving the booger in my mouth just as she added a wink to that smile, well, I wrote that off to not having had breakfast.
Satisfied with the experience, I decided next to return to work. Everything went cool there, too. The boss who the chicks think is so hot? My hand didn't write him a single note. I wasn't even fed another piece of snot. So with two successes under my belt, it was time to try the gym again. As an extra precaution, before I went I layered up my lower half, wearing jockstrap, underwear, gym shorts and sweat pants. But again, everything was fine. My hands kept to the weights and the machines. Okay, so I could lift twice as much as usual – I was stupid enough to think that was a good thing.
To sort of celebrate my return to a normal life, I went out for a drink. My buddies had other stuff going on, so I went alone to the bar and relaxed with beer after beer. If anybody deserved them, I did. I was somewhere between my fourth and eighth one when all of the sudden, my right hand grabbed the ass of the guy standing next to me. It was a straight bar. Yeah, it's the twenty-first century and men are marrying each other in more and more states – good for them – but grabbing straight dudes' asses in straight bars can still buy you a trip to the hospital. I know I'd take a swing at any man who tried that with me. This dude turned and looked at me. I said, "Sorry, my bad," but my right hand went in for another squeeze and followed it with a slap powered by my new strength. I mean, I hit the guy hard. He looked at my hand and then looked at me. Fuck, I knew I was dead.
The guy was big. As in comic book big. As in "human beings aren't designed to get that big" big. Just a few minutes ago, he was all over some silicone-titted chick I wanted for myself. Now she was nowhere to be seen. And then this mountain of muscles grinned at me. In a deep baritone, he said, "Somebody knows what he wants." Voice shaking, I told him not to mind me but before I could add an apology, he said he didn't mind at all and turned so my hand could grab his crotch. And my right hand took him up on the offer. I told him it wasn't really me who grabbed him. He said whoever it was, he liked him. That's when my new left hand got in on the act. That's correct. The hand that was supposed to be taming the other one? It grabbed my crotch. And this horny giant, he didn't miss a thing. He watched my left hand squeeze my dick. He licked his lips and didn't bother trying to be subtle about it at all. Fuck, what did the guy think was going on, a porn? He glanced back over his shoulder. Big Tits was re-entering the bar and headed back in our direction, but stopping to talk to people on the way. My new friend turned back to me and looked me in the eye. I guess freaked out looks the same as horny because he just dragged me back to the men's room. Maybe my own feet propelled me, maybe I was just heaved along like a sack of potatoes. I don't remember. And I'm sure he didn't notice either way. He had plans for me.
Just what every straight guy wants: a huge monster with a dick and plans for you.
We were alone in the bathroom, his bulk between me and the exit. You didn't have to be a woman to be scared in these circumstances. Anyone with an orifice would have been petrified. Of course my right hand was beckoning him to come closer. And the motherfucking left hand? This new appendage that up `til now I thought was on my side? It was reaching out in the direction of the big guy's nuts. Fuck that doctor. Fuck his team. Fuck their theories. And fuck this second fucking arm.
My mind was desperately scrambling to figure out how to talk my way out of this situation when the muscle man leaned down, grabbed the back of my head and kissed me. A guy! Kissing me! The skin around his mouth was sandpaper on my face. My god, did he ever shave? He tasted like beer and smelled a little like Drakkar Noir and lot like sweat and all... man. It was like licking a locker room floor. I was feeling bad for every woman I'd ever locked lips with. They go through this shit? My god, how does our species recreate? Men are pigs. His hands forced my face into his, and my hands – both of those new fuckers – forced his face into mine. There was no turning away, no backing off. His tongue manhandled mine, getting it to do things it had never done before. I was telling my cock this is a dude! this is a dude! but I don't think the message got through.
He let go of my head with one hand – he didn't need two to hold me in place – and squeezed my cock and balls. Chicks want to play with my balls, I'm all for it. Have at it, go to town. Lick. Flick. Tease. Give them a squeeze. How badly could they squish them, right? But a guy who squeezes apples into juice with his bare hands? Fuck! That's the word I was trying to say out loud but my mouth was filled with his tongue, so all I got was more tongue, like he was trying to make me deep throat him or something.
Just the thought of the words "deep throat" put visions in my head of me on my knees, forced to suck his dick. Fuck, this was not going well at all. I mean, I'm a dude. Blowjobs are for receiving, not giving.
It wasn't until he had my zipper down and cock out that I realized I wasn't the one who was going to be doing the blowing here. Big guy took his rough tongue out of my mouth and licked my face hard and fast, starting at my chin and going up past my lips, past my nostrils – even wiggling in a little bit – then past the bridge of my nose, between my eyebrows and up my forehead to my hairline before dropping to his knees and gobbling up my cock.
Oh my fucking god.
My head was reeling, not knowing what the fuck was happening, but these two goddamn hands of mine weren't the least bit confused. They held his head in place on my dick. They pulled his hair and boxed his ears. If somebody treated me like that, I'd empty my pockets and tell them to take whatever they wanted, but please, god, leave me alone. This guy, though, he got off on the treatment. It just made him suck and nibble and bite and slobber and grunt and growl all the more. He'd twist my nuts in the sac and my whole body lurched. Then he pulled down on them. I staggered and had to support myself by leaning on the countertop.
The bathroom door opened and he kicked back with his foot, slamming it closed. It was the first practical use I'd ever seen of the stupid kick-out exercise I do at the gym. Even with all that was going on, I had to give him props for using that move. And his reflexes – flies should be afraid of this guy.
His tongue was free floating in his mouth, not rooted anywhere. It went up, down, around, in front, behind, curling, swirling, wrapping, enveloping, penetrating. Did he even have teeth? This guy was a master. It was after the Kentucky Derby and I was just another panting, snorting stallion, or whatever the fuck it is that runs in that goddamn race. There was no closing my eyes pretending this was a woman. My new hands kept rubbing his face and feeling his stubble. Every once in awhile he'd let go of my member long enough to lick my hand, then he'd go back to work on my fuck-how-did-it-get-this-hard cock and my hand would smear his man-stinky saliva all over my face and force me to deep throat it. Deep throating your own hand – isn't that how bulimics get started?
All these years I thought chicks knew what they were doing when they went down on me. Did all dudes give bjs this mind-blowingly well? My left hand, it was like it could hear me. It grabbed me by the hair and twisted my head 90 degrees so I was looking in the mirror at my side. And then my right hand gripped my chin and nodded my head up and down, forcing me to answer my own question. According to my hands and head, yes, all guys do give blowjobs this well. And for the first time ever I sorta got why one dude would go to another dude for satisfaction. But why in fuck's sake a dude would want to suck another dude's cock I didn't get at all. And even if my fucking hands were correct – that dudes' mouths know the male member better than any woman's mouth ever could – it didn't make any of what was going on right. No matter how good it felt.
So I was reaching the point of no return. You know, the moment women want to be tipped off to so they don't get a shot of spunk between the lips. Between my snorting and coughing and trying to catch my breath, it was pretty clear that I was about to unload. Instead of letting go, the mountain doubled down on my dick. He wanted me to shoot in his mouth. But my cock was too sensitive for that. I reached down to pry him off – or that's what I thought I was doing. In reality, my hands pinched the very tips of my nipples with my fingernails, putting me in so much fucking pain. That's the instant I shot. He sucked and swallowed and repeated, digging his fingers into my ass to pull me toward him, and my own new sadistic fingers kept digging into my nipples, twisting them and pulling on them and doing their damndest to rip them off my chest. The combination of pain and pleasure was prolonging my orgasm in a way I'd never experienced before. I know that sounds all great and ideal and where-the-hell-do-I-sign-up, but trust me, it's scorching pain. Yeah, it's hot and fucking amazing, but fuck it hurts like fuck.
In the middle of all of this, the door to the single stall opened out. Some dude was in there the whole time. In the same second, someone else outside tried to enter the bathroom. In a blur of speed, Gigantor slammed the stall door shut with one hand and kicked the entrance door shut with his opposite leg. Even in the heat of a sexual high, he remembered to keep his exercise routine balanced. That's training for you. Never once did his lips loosen up on my member. He was sucking with such determination, I'm still convinced he was trying to vacuum my nuts themselves out through the little slit at the tip of my poor sated dick.
Finished, he stood up. I wanted to retch, but my hands... Those goddamn hands that aren't really mine, they reached out for him. I thought, no, I am not kissing this man again. Not any man. No no no. Instead the fingers on my right hand plunged into his mouth and started feeling all around as if they were looking for something. What? My car keys? My dignity? My life I could feel slipping away? The big guy shrugged, pulled my hand out of his mouth and said, "Nothing left, sorry. I'm a swallower." My hand gave him a playful slap on the cheek. "Lucky Charms for breakfast, right?" He winked at me. How the hell could he know that? He popped a mint, sloshed some water on his face and checked out his reflection. He watched my two new hands put my dick back in my pants and he pouted like a little kid.
He blew a final kiss at me and opened the door. Big Tits was outside. "There you are," I heard her say. Jersey. "You always take the longest pisses of anybody I know." And they were gone. The guy in the stall finally poked out his head. I could feel my hands start to reach toward him. Quickly – maybe not as quickly as the oversized cum bucket that just walked out of here but quick enough for me – my foot caught the exit door before it closed. At least my feet were on my side. I kicked open the door and got out of there.
Home home home. Just get me the fuck home and put an end to this nightmare. But home wasn't in the cards. And that night, I learned the difference between a nightmare and hell.
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Please write with your comments. They are all welcome. Below are some of my other stories:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/jockstrap
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/college/little-dude-series/
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/special-rest-stop