What’s Wrong With Me? – 1
Introduction:
Step into a Sim-Chamber and live out your wildest fantasy!!!
Also, there are references to fictional characters from real tv-shows – which I used without permission from the owners, nor do I claim any rights to anything but that which came from my own mind!
And just a word about the setting. I was imagining a world similar to the later incarnations of a very popular and ongoing sci-fi staple, though slightly darker…. This was the first truly hard-core story I wrote, and as such, I had to make the setting comfortable enough for me to get over my hang-ups and realize that there is No Shame in Fantasy! To that end, I blatently ripped-off the the idea of a Holo-Suite and created the Sim-Chamber, so my main character could do what he wanted without really hurting anyone.
That being said, if you’re brave enough to keep reading, please, be my guest and continue. I hope you enjoy! And if you don’t… Well, I really don’t give a damn… I didn’t write this for you!
–RogueRambler
It was after the third time I slept-in and was late reporting for duty, that I was sent to the station’s counselor for a “chat-session.” Once all the bull-shit was over, you know, all the, “I’m here to help you,” and “Everything you say here will be held in complete confidence,” and all that stuff, the ancient and quite androgynous counselor asked, “So, what do you feel has been causing your tardiness of late?”
I mumbled some nonsense about simply being overly tired and, other than that, I really didn’t know why I was having trouble getting up and to my job on time.
“Well,” the old counselor said, “according to the records I pulled on you, you’ve been getting eight to nine hours of sleep each night, which should be sufficient. Your most recent medical scans show no abnormalities or anomalies, which leads me to believe that your issues must be psychological or emotional.”
Well, that didn’t settle too well with me, however I knew that the aged empath was probably on the right track. In the past few months I had been a bit scatter-brained and had noticed my concentration tended to wander. “I guess,” I said finally, coming to terms with what I’d been noticing lately, “I have been a bit off, but…” I paused a moment and tried looking inside myself yet again, “…I don’t really know why.”
The counselor looked at me and I could almost feel my psyche being probed by those eyes. The eyes were the only feature of the ancient officer that didn’t seem older than inter-stellar travel. After a moment, those eyes looked away from me, down to the pad held in the wrinkled and twisted hands.
“Going through your records, the only deviation I see in recent months concerns your use of the holographic simulation chambers.”
“I haven’t used a sim-chamber in months,” I retorted with much more angst in my voice than I thought I was actually feeling.
“My point exactly,” the counselor said, moving those probing eyes back to me. “You were assigned to this station six months ago and in the first three months, you spent an average of eighty-five minutes in a simulation chamber, four times a week. Yet your last chamber session was two months and twenty-seven days ago.”
An overwhelming sense of dread fell over me. I felt as though I’d been caught. Caught doing what, I did not know. There was no way the counselor, or anyone for that matter, could know what I’d been doing in the sim-chambers. Yet I couldn’t shake the guilty sensation.
“I see your last chamber session was almost four hours in duration, four-hundred and thirty-three minutes to be precise, which was the longest amount of time you spent in one of the station’s simulation chambers. Your next longest session, a few days previous, was barely two hours, only a hundred and thirteen minutes. But in the months since, you have not visited the chambers once.”
“But,” I started a bit confused and defensive and recited the mantra of sim-chamber usage, “what happens in the chamber stays in the chamber,” though even without using the empathic gift, the counselor surely saw my emotions.
“It is against regulations to access information regarding the content of recreational chamber simulations, however, information such as frequency and length of time for sessions is available to senior officers.”
I felt a bit of relief, though just a bit. The counselor’s eyes were intently staring into my own and I wondered how much of me could be seen.
“You are feeling uncomfortable,” the aged counselor said as a matter of fact. “Is it possible that we have found something here?”
“Well,” I said, taking another look into myself, knowing that the counselor was right, yet I still wasn’t ready to look as deeply as I needed. “When I was at the Institute, I only earned a few hours of recreational chamber time and I don’t think I even used all I earned.”
“That is accurate,” the counselor said softly, looking down and pointing a gnarled finger at the pad, “you earned two hundred and four minutes and only used one hundred and seventeen minutes.”
“It was different at the Institute. I don’t know if I can really explain it. But once I arrived here and had unlimited use of the chambers when not on duty, I started using them a bit more. But, well…” I wasn’t sure exactly how much I wanted to share with the counselor. The thoughts popping into my mind were thoughts that frequently occurred to me. Although when they did, I usually tried to push them out and think about other things. “…I guess after a while, the simulations just got old.” The moment those words were out of my mouth, I knew the counselor was aware that I lied. “Well,” I continued, hoping to worm my way back to some realm of honesty, “I mean to say, there isn’t anything a stimulation-chamber can recreate,” I purposely used the misnomer for the chambers, as they were mostly referred in unofficial situations, “other than the tactile sensations, that I can’t imagine in my own mind.”
“Are you saying that you prefer masturbation to relieving yourself in the simulation chambers?”
“I guess I am,” I replied, feeling my anxiousness increasing.
“Is that something you wish to discuss?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. There was a flash in my mind, a memory of my last session in a simulation chamber. Once again, it was as though I could feel the empathic counselor probing me.
“There are a few questions I want to ask you,” the croaking voice said, “but these are personal questions and I need you to know that you are not required to answer them. However, even if you chose not to respond, I hope that you will give my queries some consideration.” I nodded, knowing full-well my rights of privacy. “All right,” the counselor said, looking at me intently and I braced myself for the first question. “Did anything unpleasant happen during your last chamber session?”
“No,” I responded immediately and we both knew it was a lie.
“Would you like to tell me about your last session?”
“No,” I responded just as quickly and we both knew I was telling the truth. Only this time, the counselor eyed me even more intently.
“With what frequency have you masturbated in the previous few months?”
“I don’t know,” I was a bit taken aback by the question and after a second of thought I responded, “maybe once or twice a day.”
The counselor looked down at the pad and I was afraid that I was about to learn exactly how often I jacked-off, though I knew that there was no way that information could be on the pad. “Might I make a suggestion,” the counselor said. I nodded, though dreaded what the suggestion might be. “I have a feeling that the issues which have prompted this visit are somehow rooted in your recreational use of the simulation chambers. It might be best if you resume your sessions in the chambers, even if you choose not to discuss what you do there. Resuming your sessions might make you look into yourself and help you to gain a bit of insight into your personal issues.”
I closed my eyes and nodded my head. I knew the counselor was right. I’d know it all along, even if I hadn’t honestly admitted my feelings to myself. However, after my last sim-chamber session, I’d promised myself that it would be my last. Imagining something, fantasizing about it was one thing. But playing it out in the sim-chamber, the closest thing to real-life possible, well, that just didn’t seem quite right.
“You’re scheduled to go on duty in,” a crooked finger tapped the pad, “fifty-three minutes.” I nodded. “If you would be willing to go right from here, down to the simulation chamber suites, I will see to it that your shift is covered and, if you like, I would even be willing to see that you are excused from your next,” the old finger tapped the pad a few more times, “two shifts, to give you some time to explore the issues that have been troubling you.”
“Ok,” I said, before I’d actually given the offer much thought.
However, as I made my way to the lower level of the station, knowing full-well what I was about to do, I wondered if it might be better for me just to go to work and forget the whole thing. Surely I could make myself wake-up on time and report for duty in a timely manner, as was expected. Though I have to admit, as my fears began to grow, so did my excitement.
As much as I hate to admit it, my blood was boiling and I was more aroused that I could remember being in a good long time. My ID was verified and I was shown to a chamber. Even before I started to undress, to put on the tactual-suit and simulation headgear, I had a full-blown erection. A few seconds of extreme anxiety fell over me as I took my place in the casket-like chamber, pulling the lid closed over me.
At first, as was normal, I experienced a second or two of nothingness. As the program loaded, it seemed as though all my senses were shut-down. I could feel nothing, hear nothing, see nothing, nor could I smell or taste anything. Then a purple haze crept into my consciousness and a second later I could see the control panel materialize in my mind. Then I heard a voice, the croaking voice of the counselor, speaking to me in the same way that the instructors at the Institute would, when we were doing training exercises in the sim-chambers.
“I would recommend going back to the last session you experienced, or creating a similar program, to explore the issues troubling you.”
Even with the knowledge that the voice I heard was pre-programmed and the counselor could not or would never be able to know what I did within the sim-chamber, I knew that I could not revisit my last session. I could, however, create a similar program to play. Using my thoughts to access the programing mode within the chamber, I began to set up a program. I decided to go with a natural environment, rather than the urban surroundings I’d used in my last session. Suddenly I was standing in the middle of a thick forest. There was a small log-cabin in a clearing, beside a large pond or a small lake. I could feel a warm, gentle breeze, which I could also hear rustling the leaves on the trees. When I inhaled, I smelled fresh air and moisture. Much more moisture than the small lake could have put into the air.
The purple control panel could still be seen and with the environment in place, I was being prompted to select additional characters. My anxiety, as well as my arousal, both increased. In my last session I’d used the image of the station commander’s son (although I did age him a couple years in the simulated image), as my playmate. And after I’d finished with him, well, that was when the guilt really set in and I decided that I should cease my sessions in the sim-chambers.
I had the simulator start showing me images of pre-programed characters. I set the parameters for young males with dark hair and eyes and watched the images pass-by my eyes.
“Stop!” I said, after viewing a couple dozen two-dimensional images. I felt a surge of blood throughout my body as the image appeared. It was a boy with dark hair and dark eyes, of course. He had a lanky, thin body and an adorable face, with just a hint of mischievousness in his grin. “Details,” I said.
“The image now displayed is that of Scott Baio, an American actor from the late twentieth and early twenty-first century of the Christian calendar. This image is from nineteen-seventy-eight.”
“Is there motion footage?” I asked the simulator. The still image disappeared and I saw another image of the beautiful boy. this time he was moving and I could hear the soft sounds of dialog and laughter.
Just over the dialog, the simulator continued with the details. “This is Baio in the roll of Charles ‘Chachi’ Arcola, on the situation-comedy Happy Days. The character, who is mostly referred to as ‘Chachi’, is the younger cousin of Arthur ‘the Fonz’ Fonzerelli, one of the shows staring characters, played by Henry Winkler. Chachi began as a reoccurring character, who was deeply in love with…”
“Stop details and increase audio,” I interrupted. If I wanted to know more about the kid, could look it up later. I wanted everything I had to focus on Chachi. I skimmed several scenes, before declaring, “Perfect. Simulate him.”
“One moment,” the simulator responded and the purple control-panel disappeared, with the image of Chachi. I felt an intense throb between my legs in anticipation. “Please specify parameters pertaining to personality, attire and accessories and level of interaction.”
“Dress and play him as character, with full interaction and realism, please.”
“One moment,” the simulator informed me.
And no more than a moment passed, before a three-dimensional image appeared before me. He was beautiful. He looked at me a moment, then looked around him. When he looked back at me, he looked like he was about to cry.
“Where am I?” he asked, sounding confused and a bit scared.
“Everything’s fine,” I said, extending my hand in greeting, which he nervously returned. I felt a spark as our hands touched and even though I know the computer programmed it to do that, I feel as though it was love at first sight. However, I felt that same way about the image of the commander’s son, when I first touched him.
“Who are you?” the adorable kid asked, sounding a bit less apprehensive, though he still looked like he might cry.
“I’m Tom,” I said, still shaking his hand. “You’re my guest here.”
“Uh, ok,” the handsome boy said, his eyes once again wandering over the small lake, then to the thick forest around the clearing. “So,” he said and a quizical grin popped onto his face, “ you never said where here is. Where’s Joni? Where’s Fonzie?”
I thought a moment, then with a pointed thought, I addressed the simulator. The hand I was holding went slack, as did the kid’s eyes. “Adjust character,”
“Parameters, please,”
“Remove memory and replace with,” I thought a moment as to which of the memory scenarios I’d previously programmed into the simulator, “Lost-Boy Prime. But keep his personality as is.” I liked the cocky, yet vulnerable personality of the Chachi character. I didn’t want that to change, knowing how terrible the memories I was implanting in the character were, would surely make him quite sullen and much more eager for attention. And, even though I did resist doing it, I also instructed the simulator to decrease the character’s age by three years.
The change in the image of the boy was dramatic. His hand and eyes came back to life and while the bewildered look returned to his face, I knew how to explain the situation to him now.
“It’s all right,” I said, looking the boy up and down. This was perfect. “We’re safe here. There’s no one around for miles and if anyone does try to come near, my dogs will chase them off.” The simulator picked-up on my suggestion and three big, black dogs started barking, running a circuit around the clearing, then charging into the woods. “This just might be the safest place in the universe.”
The boy’s eyes softened and I pulled him toward me. He was reluctant at first, then with a bit harder tug, my arms were around him and his face was buried in my chest. He let me hold him a moment, then he gently started to back away from me. I held him tight. He wiggled a bit more in my arms, upping the strength he used to get away from me. I tightened my grip on him.
“Let me go man,” he said, his voice being muffled somewhat by my chest. “This is not cool.”
“It’s ok, Chachi,” I said. I liked the name. Chachi. “I just want to feel you next to me for a bit.” His struggle increased, as did his protesting. My blood got hotter. The simulation was so realistic that if I didn’t know better, I’d have thought that I actually had a gorgeous teenaged boy in my arms. I could feel his warmth radiating where there was contact between our bodies. I inhaled his youthful, masculine scent, which made my blood boil even hotter. I held him with one arm around his shoulders and upper-back, my other arm gripping his lower-back and waist. I pushed his shirt up with my lower hand, which made direct contact with his skin. I couldn’t believe the heat emanating from his body. In every respect of the word, the boy was Hot!
I buried my face in his thick, dark hair and breathed-in deeply a few more times, keeping his struggling, lithe body tight against my own. The hand I’d pushed up the back of his shirt moved over his bare skin as best as it could, while also trying to keep the beautiful boy from escaping my grip. When I reached the point where I could no longer take it, when all my resistance was wasted, I pushed the boy away from me and without as much as a glance, I started walking toward the big pond.
“Let’s go swimming,” I said, still not looking back at him. As I got closer to the water, I pulled my shirt off and threw it to the ground.
“But,” I heard his cracking voice behind me, “I don’t got any trunks.”
Instead of answering him verbally, I unfastened my pants, paused only a couple seconds to kick-off my shoes, push my pants down and step out of them, before taking the last few steps to the sandy edge of the smooth body of water. I could feel the gorgeous kid’s eyes on my backside and I wondered if he’d started stripping yet and figured that he probably hadn’t. I was tempted to twist my body just a touch and give him a quick look at my raging hard cock, but I decided against it. I took three big steps into the water, jumped and dove. With a strong head-start, I swam under-water until I absolutely needed a breath, finding myself almost in the middle of the natural pool.
I’d been right. When I finally looked at ‘Chachi’, he’d moved a bit closer to the edge of the pond, though he was still fully-clothed. “Come on in, the water feels great!” I called-out.
He slowly moved closer, but made no attempt to disrobe. Then I heard his soft voice carry over the smooth surface of the water, “But, naked?”
“No one around to see anything and I’m sure that you don’t have anything I haven’t seen before.” As if to clarify my point, three deep barks came from the woods surrounding us, one after the other, from three different directions. I went back under the water, swam a short distance before surfacing again. “Come on!” I yelled, lifting one arm into the air and gesturing him to me. Then I sank under the surface again and swam underwater as far as I could on the breath in my chest, bringing myself closer to the shore and him. Once my head was again above water, I saw him standing on the sandy edge of the small lake with his hands on the bottom hem of his white t-shirt.
He moved slowly, very slowly, almost too slowly, pulling his shirt up his body. It was like he knew just how much he was teasing me. I even thought of asking the simulator to speed the action up a bit. My eyes were zeroed-in on the ever so slowly expanding patch of skin. His belly was pale, smooth and tight. The more he revealed to me, I could see the sharp definition of his small, slatted abdominal muscles. Then his navel, which seemed to poke deeply into his belly. His torso was narrow, his hips barely poking from the waist of his jeans and after a moment or two, I started to see is smooth, pale skin stretched tightly over his rib-cage. When I could finally see his tiny, dark nipples, I reached one hand under the water and grabbed my cock. I gave it a couple rough pumps, then stopped, realizing that I was closer to the point-of-no-return than I thought. And even without a hand on my cock, when I saw first one, then the other of his armpits exposed, well, I had to fight against the intense urge to explode. I could only imagine what the boy’s sweaty underarms smelled like. I couldn’t wait to get a taste of him, wanting nothing more than to snort and lick at the boy’s slightly fuzzy pits.
Once his shirt finally cleared his head, he just released it and it fell to the ground. He stood there a second, his torso bared with his arms raised over his head. Once again, I had to fight off the urge to come, with no other stimulation except the warmish water swishing around my bone-hard cock.
Still moving slowly, his arms lowered and his hand went to the buckle on his belt. His pace was maddening. Again I thought about speeding it along, then reasoned that I had all the time in the world, or at least the next seventy-two hours to get the hot young kid naked and have my way with him. At the suggestion of a member of the station’s senior-staff, no less.
Just as he was about to pull the leather strap through the buckle, he stopped. “You sure no one is gonna sneak-up on us?”
“One-hundred per-cent positive,” I replied, sculling my hands so that I slowly moved closer to the boy and the shore. “I give you my word, there’s no way anyone can get here.” Well, that wasn’t entirely true. At any moment, I could ask the simulator to add another character, a thought which I considered, just for a bit more fun, then decided that maybe a bit later I’d bring someone else into the simulation. For now, I wanted this boy all to myself.
“Hurry up,” I said, trying to sound cheerful instead of lustful, “at the rate you’re going now, it’ll be well past midnight before you even dip a toe into the water.”
He moved a bit quicker, though it seemed like he was still teasing. Once his belt was undone, he fumbled with the button of his jeans. A moment later, I saw a V of pale skin, which soon gave way to a bright white pair of underwear. Though I knew he was going a bit faster, time seemed to drag as he lowered his zipper. Then a moment later, he pushed his pants to his knees with one hand, keeping his snug-fitted boxer-shorts in place. Once he was sure that his shorts were staying where they were, he used both hands to push his pants down his long, lean legs. My eyes were raking-in everything from the tiny bulge in his underpants, to the slight dusting of dark hair on his lower-legs. Then he stumbled and almost fell over. His body turned and I got a good look at his backside and especially at how the thin cotton of his shorts cuddled his butt-cheeks, even dipping-in just a wee-bit between the small, firm globes. Once again, I had to concentrate on not letting myself reach the point-of-no-return.
Realizing that he wasn’t going to get his pants off without first taking-off his shoes, he bent over, his jeans bunched between his knees and ankles and starting removing his footwear. Just as he was pulling his second shoe off, I felt my toes touch. I inched myself just a bit closer, so that I had a firm footing on the sandy bottom of the small lake so my arms could take a rest from treading-water. Before too long, he was standing at the edge of the water, his toes surely getting wet, wearing only a thin cotton pair of boxers.
I was close enough to be able to see fear in his dark eyes. I could also see a slight lump in the snug cotton, with a dark shadow above it. He took a breath and I thought he was about to say something.
“I’s ok, Chach,” I said before he could speak. “I promise that you and I are the only ones here and you’re gonna love how the water feels.”
He took a step forward, one foot going in up to the ankle.
“You don’t want your shorts to be wet all day, take them off so they stay dry,” I suggested, trying not to sound as eager as I felt.
“But,” he said.
“Take them off!” I said with a bit of force behind my voice and took a couple small steps closer, so that my upper torso broke the surface.
He took two slow steps back, then, grabbing the waistband of his boxers, he turned his back to me and pushed them down. He had to bend over to get his shorts over his feet and as he did I got a perfect view of his skinny, little butt. His cheeks were small mounds of muscle and as he bent, the crack between them spread open, allowing my eyes to creep into the trench and see the small, dark, wrinkled ring at the center. And just below that, I saw two dangling orbs, suspended in a hairless sac of skin, each the shape of a perfect pecan. Dangling just a bit lower, I caught a few glimpses of a tight foreskin and the very tip of his sheathed dick-head.
Once again, I had to fight the urges.
Moving much faster than he yet had, he twisted his body and leapt for the lake. I got a much-too-quick glance of his young, flaccid dick slapping between his legs. I could that there was a touch of hair growing where his dick met his body, though all really saw was a soft, dark blur between his hips. Then just like that, I saw a flash of his tight butt, before the boy disappeared under the water.
I scanned the surface of the small lake for over a minute, before I saw his head pop-up much further away than I’d been searching. I could see, once he’d wiped the water from his face, that he was grinning. He looked at me for a quick moment, then dove below the surface once more. He frolicked both on the surface and under the water for a while. I stayed where I was, watching him. Each time I saw his head (or any other part of his body) pop out of the water, I’d feel a surge of hot blood rush my cock. I watched him swim for quite a while. By the way he played around in the water, there was no denying that he was all-boy. I noticed he was slowing a bit, surely after all his frolicking, he was beginning to tire. A bit later, he surfaced a bit deeper than where I was and stared at me for a moment or two. Then in a flash, he was gone, back under the surface. After what seemed like at least two and a half or three minutes I saw half of his body come up, out of the water, in just a bit shallower than where I was. He pulled in a great lung-ful of air and, as the air rushed out of him, he yelled, “This feels great!” Nothing below his waist made it above the surface of the water, though watching the drops of water run down the smooth, tight skin of his torso was enough for the moment.
“Told you you’d love it,” I said with a smile. He smiled back. I tore my eyes off him and looked across the lake, then quickly back to him and said, “Race you?” Without waiting for a response I dived underwater and started swimming toward the far shore. I heard a splash and knew I was being pursued. No boy his age could resist a good race. I could not see him when I surfaced for air. I gulped a breath and started swimming over the surface as fast as I could. Only a second later something caught my eye in front of me. His arms were moving so fast, pulling his small, lean body through the water quite a bit faster than I was swimming. He was going to beat me. It was just as I’d hoped.
When I arrived at the far side of the lake, he was standing in covering him from his mid-belly down. He was slightly bent over, huffing and puffing, trying to catch his breath from his exertion. His longish hair was plastered to his head, the front covering his face half-way down his nose. I had purposely swam with an easy pace, hoping that after all the frolicking and the speed-race, he’d have worn himself out a bit. I moved right up to him and put a hand between his shoulders. Slightly bent as he was, he was looking down and, as the water wasn’t that murky, he surely saw my rigid cock. He straightened quickly which made my hand slide down his wet back a bit. He tried to move away from me, but with one arm around his back, I had no trouble inhibiting his movement. Though I took that moment to get my other arm involved, grabbing around his other side and, a second later, I pulled his naked body tight against mine.
If he hadn’t seen how hard my cock was underwater, its rigidity was certainly apparent to him as I pushed myself against his belly. Once again, he struggled in my hug. His smooth, wet body slipping and sliding against mine did nothing to diminish my desires. In fact, feeling him trying to free himself from my grasp only made me hotter. I knew that it wouldn’t be long, pressing myself against his hot skin, with all the slippery wetness between us, before I would have to stop or come. So I took myself right up the point of no return. By this time I had one hand on his butt pressing our mid-sections together and increasing his wiggling motions with my own, as well as slightly hunching my hips against his bare body. I stopped and, wrapping a big hand around one of his skinny arms so that he couldn’t get away from me, I broke all other contact between us. And I started for the shore, dragging the struggling boy behind me. He pulled, wiggled and did all he could to try to break the hold I had on him. But there was no way I was bout to let him go.
This side of the small lake had a larger, sandy beach area and there were several large rocks strewn here and there. Around a couple of the boulders the sand changed to small pebbles, so it seemed the big rocks were placed on gravel. It didn’t take me long to get into the shallow area and I didn’t stop until the water-line was closer to my knees than to my crotch. Only then did I turn to look at the boy. I could see terror in his expression. Without releasing the death-grip I had on his arm, my other hand moved to the back of his head. The fear in his eyes increased. Once in place, my fingers woven between his thick dark locks, I made a loose fist. I wasn’t exactly pulling his hair, but I let him know that my hand on his head had a firm grip on him and I was in control. I made him look down and knew by his gasp that he had gotten a good, close-up look at my throbbing erection. I tilted his head back up so I could look into his face. His eyes were wide and he still struggled against me a bit, though I finally released my hand on his arm, letting that hand slide over to his narrow chest, at the same time tightening my fingers grip in his thick hair a bit. He was trying to pull his body away from me, though he couldn’t get far. When I found one of his tiny, little nipples and gave it a tweak. He let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper.
Fear filled his dark eyes. I tried my best to keep my breath steady and my blood from boiling-over. I wanted, no, I needed to keep myself under control. Yet, holding the beautiful boy by the back of his head, staring down into his up-turned face, well, I couldn’t resist at least kissing him. I pulled his head slowly but steadily, closing the few inches of space between us. My hand on his chest dropped, getting a nice feel of his tight belly, before moving even lower. As I pushed my lips to his, my fingers took hold of his completely flaccid dick. The sound he tried to make, either from being kissed, or having my fingers wrapping around his soft dick, or both, was stifled by my mouth. However, his attempt to cry-out did cause his mouth to open, which gave me the perfect opportunity to shove my tongue inside.
As I deep-kissed his unresponsive mouth, he upped his attempt to get away from me. I simply gripped his hair tighter with one hand, used my other hand to pull him closer to me, that hand still firmly holding him between his legs. Then I kissed him long and hard. Only when I felt his body relax some and his tongue began to wiggle a bit furtively against my tongue digging into his mouth, did I break the kiss.
I yanked his head away from me, rather than pulling my head from him. His eyes were still wide and his mouth was lolling open, a bit of spittle drooling from one corner. He breathed in deeply and in a strangled voice asked, “What are you doing to me?”
I said nothing and continued staring right into his frightened eyes, feeling myself throb.
Then in a very soft voice he started mumbling about how it wasn’t right for one boy to kiss another and how, even though he knew that there were boys who liked other boys, he was not one of them, then he went on about how scared he was, letting me know in no uncertain terms that being like this, naked together, was simply wrong.
By the time he was done with his soft rebuke of what I was doing to him, his eyes had managed to wander away from mine, even though I was still holding his face only inches from mine.
I still said nothing and waited. Within a few moments, slowly, his eyes crept back to mine, still filled with terror and now with tears dripping from them.
“Please,” he said so softly that I wouldn’t have heard him if my ears hadn’t been just a few inches from his mouth. “Please don’t make me do anything else.”
As a response, I slowly pulled his lips back to mine. This time I found his lips clamped tight. His eyes went even wider and I extended my tongue and started moving it from one corner of his mouth to the other. Back and forth, I licked his plump, red lips. I released my hand from his dick and moved it around to his butt. Keeping my other hand holding the back of his head firmly against me, I pulled the rest of his body tight against mine.
He struggled, though after all his frolicking in the lake, followed out race across it and surely everything that had happened since had it’s effect too. The boy was tired. He didn’t have enough kick left in him to put much effort into getting away from me. And after a moment, he slowly parted his lips and I slipped my tongue into his mouth. As I did, I pulled both his head and hips tighter to my naked body. Again, the sensations became too intense too quickly. This time it was when I realized that the extreme salty taste on my tongue were tears I’d licked off his face. That and the tight squeeze my cock was receiving between our bellies, made me feel the tingle between my legs. I had mere seconds to decide whether to stop or go for it. It was still too soon. Keeping our bodies tight, I pulled his head back, craning his neck and forcing him to look at me.
I almost hate to admit it. When I saw his face, the horror in his unblinking eyes, the way his mouth was still open like he was screaming, though all I heard were his deep breaths and realizing that the fine, pale skin around his mouth was becoming tinged with pink, surely a reaction to the hard kisses I’d forced on him, I had to close my eyes and pull away from his hot body. I released him around his butt and tightened my grip in his hair. I could feel parts of his scalp pulling from his skull, moving with my fingers. Even a couple hairs popping from their shafts. And I heard his breath become strained, almost whining.
Before I was able to fight off the threatening explosion, I had to ease my finger’s grip on his hair. And when I opened my eyes, I hoped that he would look less scared, or at the least, not like he was screaming.
There was fear in his face, but his mouth and eyes were closed and while he was still breathing deeply, his breaths sounded normal. His body had gone as limp as possible, without allowing me to support any of his weight by his hair and I stared at him as I got myself back under control. My cock was so hard it hurt, angry-red with thick blue veins strung over it. There were ample amounts of clear fluid dripping from my piss-hole, which covered my cock-head and also covered a spot on both my hairy belly, as well as a big gooey spot on the kid’s small, smooth belly. My first thought was to get down and lick the goo off the kid’s body. I imagined how hot his skin would be on my tongue. Of the taste of not only my precum, but also that of our combined sweat. I could smell both of us enough to know that despite our swim, we were both sweating a bit. Especially where our hot bodies had been pressed tight. But I knew I had to wait. And it didn’t help much that in order to get my eyes off the shining clear fluid on his torso, my eyes went between his legs. His dick looked a bit bigger than before. Nowhere near hard, just a bit longer and a touch fatter and the tight nub of his foreskin seemed to have eased a bit and was dangling further from his little dick-head.
I reached out and slipped my hand up and under his soft dick. It was barely as long as my hand was wide and no bigger around than my thumb. Through the back of his head, I felt his body go stiff when I touched his dick. I tightened my fingers in his hair a bit, just so he’d remember they were there. When I looked back to his face, his eyes were once again open and wide with fear. I tilted his head down, making sure that he saw my throbbing cock, as well as my hand under his. When I pressed the backs of my fingers suddenly into his tight balls, he let out a gasp. In an instant, my fingers wrapped around his dick and I started to pull on it.
“No,” he pleaded, “please don’t.”
I ignored him and kept tugging at his dick. It didn’t take long for me to feel that which I was hoping for. I knew that if I played with it, a boy his age, so full of hormones, had no choice in the matter. His dick started to get hard. Every few seconds I’d hear a soft, “No,” or, “Don’t,” or “Please,” or an, “It’s wrong…” I didn’t make him get fully hard. I just wanted to be sure that I could, not knowing for sure how his simulated personality would mesh with the memories I’d fed him.
Lost-boy prime was a set of memories I’d programmed into the simulator during a session in a sim-chamber soon after I’d arrived at the station. It was my first attempt at creating a character to satisfy my deepest and darkest desires. The memories were of growing up neglected, abused emotionally and a bit physically, though never sexually. However, I did see to it that the character did know how to please himself sexually, while fantasizing of things that were strictly taboo. To achieve the taboos, I programmed memories of sermons and lectures from several authority-figures, his parents, a priest, his educators and various law-enforcement officials. I made sure that my character knew how incredible his body could feel, then placed a stigma on those feelings to inhibit guilt and shame. And sometimes, if the personality I used was too weak, even sucking a character’s dick wouldn’t get it hard. In those cases, I just had to go in and have the simulator ad a bit of lust to the personality and all was fine. It had worked well, until I meshed the personality of the station commander’s son with the Lost-boy memories. When I did that, well, it worked too well. So well that I got scared.
Sure that I was able to get the boy hard, all the while listening to the sweet muttering of his pleads, I could take no more. I roughly shoved him away from me. He stumbled, falling into the water which was just over knee-high, yet he ended-up completely submerged. He leapt-up suddenly and, once getting his feet underneath him, he started to back away from me. When he’d managed to cough the water from his mouth, he started begging again.
“Please don’t,” he was truly crying now and despite the lake-water dripping over his face, I could also make out his tears. I heard another string of mumbles, a bit louder this time, telling me how there was no possible way he could do what I wanted. All the while, he slowly backed away from me. I did not move. Once or twice, I saw him glance to the other shore of the small lake, where his clothes were laying on the ground. Then he’d look at the shore he was slowly making his way up. There was a large expanse of beach, then thick dark woods.
“Just let me go home and I promise I’ll never tell nobody about this ever. Please. I can’t do this,” were the last words he spoke, before he turned and started running. As I figured he would, he figured that the woods were his safest get-away. I gave him a second or two, then started after him. He heard my legs thrashing through the water and looked back. When he saw me in motion, his legs moved faster. So fast he tripped over his own feet and went down hard on the sand. I was almost to him when he popped-up and took-off again. I wasn’t giving it my all, preferring to enjoy the chase a bit. He stumbled once again just before he reached the woods. This time I dove after him, grabbing his foot but not tight enough to keep hold. He pulled away, jumped-up and started into the dark forest. I was laying in the last bit of sand, feeling the fine crystals adhering to my damp skin and let the kid run. I could hear him breaking through the undergrowth as well as his deep breaths. As I heard the boy’s sounds getting further from me, I stood and looked down at myself. I liked the way my body looked covered in sand, which gave me the idea to create a sim-character covered in a glittering, yet smooth skin, rather than normal human-like skin. But that would have to wait until later.
My cock had subsided a bit after I’d shoved it into the loosely packed sand, which did hurt a bit. But I reached down and took a soft hold on it, giving it a couple slow strokes, feeling each and every grain of sand between my hand and the hot, sensitive skin of my cock. I after a moment, I stopped stroking, though I did keep my hand around my cock, as I ambled back toward the lake. I walked in until the water was to my thighs, then sunk down to wash the sand off me.
Once clean, I ambled back to the shore and, with a shift in my mind, addressed the simulator, “Dogs,” I said simply. The program kicked-in and within a moment, I heard three distinct barks. A second later, I heard a blood-curdling scream. I knew that the dogs couldn’t hurt the boy. But the boy didn’t know that. It didn’t take long for me to hear the thrashing in the underbrush coming closer. When he came flying out of the woods, I was standing at the edge of the lake waiting for him…….
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I have a few more chapters of this story already written and several more chapters fermenting in my twisted mind. If you want to see them, you’re gonna have to work for it. Leave a comment, or send me a PM.
–RogueRambler
