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Pest needed money, and fast.
Well, need was a strong word. More like he wanted more money right now and he was willing to do anything to get it. Normally, he’d steal a couple bucks off of some idiot on the elevator, that usually being Poob or that crybaby Pilby, but recently they barely had any money on them. It was infuriating!
So, fueled by his greed passion for money, he set off to find a quick way to get some. There was no way he was getting a job. He had no reason for it when he could steal anything he may need. Not to mention how time consuming it would be for too little pay.
That leads him to odd one-time jobs that have big cash outs. They aren’t the most trustworthy, sometimes not the most legal either, but it was quick work for a couple hundred bucks. Some of the jobs even paid into the thousands, but those usually were looking for a very specific demographic or were a scam to kidnap people. He’d rather not try his luck that way.
Eventually, he caught wind of a reliable job that paid $450 for each hour you participate in it. The whole thing sounded too good to be true, but every person who talked about it seemed to totally believe it. Some even apparently worked there and made bank. It was enough for Pest to give it a try.
The place the advertisers pointed him to was shady to say the least. On the outside it looked like another abandoned building. Vines and plants grew all around it, reaching into the cracks and crevices. He really just considered going home. All the windows were blacked out, leaving the inside a mystery. In an odd way, everything seemed… maintained. As if the outside was some sort of cover up.
Inside was a complete 180. The scent of sterilized tools filled the air. The place looked like a hospital with it white walls and light blue chairs that looked uncomfortable. The only thing missing was someone randomly coughing every few minutes.
The receptionist made him fill out form after form. He didn’t bother reading any of them, they all looked like standard medical procedure, nothing fancy. Honestly, he was getting a little annoyed at how long the process was taking. He came he here for (relatively) quick cash that was easy to get, hours of paperwork to fill out!
Maybe this was it. A test to see how long he could fill out paperwork without killing someone. Every hour he spent slaving away reading and signing he’d get paid. Is this really what people were raving about? He’s been scammed. He’s sure of it.
Finally, he reached the end of the mountain of paperwork. It felt like it had been years. He didn’t even read any of it, how could it have possibly taken this long? Glancing at the clock revealed it had only been 20 minutes. The dullest and longest 20 minutes of his entire life.
A nurse came out to lead him to a separate room, presumably where he’d wait to meet a doctor. He was starting to think that maybe not reading those papers was a bad idea. Oh well, too late to back out now. Soon enough, he was met with what he assumed was a doctor who began to explain what was going to happen to him, and man…
He really should have read those papers.
So now, here he finds himself. Locked in some weird box advertised as a vending machine of “pleasure”. Pleasure his ass! He didn’t agree to this. Sure he signed the papers, but he obviously didn’t read them. That’s gotta account for something! There wasn’t even a way out of this thing till he fucking passed out. How the hell was this even legal?
The worst part about it though, was that it was set up in the regretevator! It was the first thing you’d see when you walked in. He was basically built into the back wall. Thankfully, the box wasn’t see through. No one would know it was him in there. If anyone found out about this he’d fucking kill those stupid doctors and the unfortunate soul who saw him.
There was no way of thrash his way out of there. He couldn’t even use his head since the walls were just far enough for even his horns to miss them. His wrists were bound by metal constrains along with his ankles, leaving him in an upright standing position with his legs forcibly spread. He stood completely naked, they wouldn’t even let him keep his hat on.
The function of the machine was pretty simple. A suction device was clasped onto his dick, with a tube that went to the outside. The device also had a stroker inside it to further help stimulate him. Inside of him was a decently sized prostate massager that would activate with the suction device every time someone paid from the outside. All of this was explained to him prior.
A small gag was placed in his mouth to prevent him from smashing his teeth if he clenched them too hard. They had to get it customized to accommodate his mandibles. From the top of the box was a vent that would spray down an aphrodisiac every 30 minutes or so, to help him keep up with demand, supposedly.
All in all, it looks like he is stuck in here till he passes out. How “thrilling”. Another one of the many downsides to this, or perhaps a perk, it that he can hear everything outside of this box. Every time the elevator doors open and close, the aggravating elevator music, and the distinct footsteps of someone getting in the elevator.
He knows they see the box. They stopped right in from of it, probably curious of what it is. Despite the weirdness that goes on in this elevator, this was certainly out of the ordinary. There was nothing he could do, but listen and wait.
A little slink could be heard of a coin going into the slot, each coin further sealing his fate. The noise sounded too loud for his ears, drowning out any thoughts. He dreaded it. He counted the coins, one by one, the final coin feeling like physical weight on his body. A button was pressed, and the machine whirled to life.
A mist of aphrodisiac sprayed down onto his body on the suction device got to work. The stroker inside it spun around, coated in a lube laced with a subtle drug to make things more pleasurable. He didn’t feel the massager flick on. Hopefully it was broken or malfunctioning so he wouldn’t have to deal with it.
The sensation was a whole lot more overwhelming than he thought it’d be. He tried to tug on his bonds again to no avail. He could feel himself hardening in record time, quickly filling out the device to near fullness. Not a sound escaped him as he glared in the darkness of the box towards the betrayal.
Outside the box he could hear the impatience of the customer. What were they expecting, a near immediate response? Did they think he was that easy? The idea pissed him off to no end. Never mind the fact that they probably had no idea it was him inside this torture chamber. How dare they assume he’d be a quick-shot.
The near careful ministrations of the machine suddenly jacked up in intensity. Having been caught off guard, Pest’s hips jerked back, attempting to get away. Despite his attempt, the device stayed on, not stopping or backing off in any way. He couldn’t tell if the resulting groan that came out of him was of rage or pleasure.
Finally, the stimulation became too much. Unable to hold back any longer, spurts of cum shot through the tube, going strait to whatever sick freak paid for it. He held himself still, stubborn and unwilling to let his body fully give into the pleasure. Surprisingly, his teeth didn’t go completely through the gag with hard he was biting into it.
Faintly, he could hear the elevator doors open once again, this time with two people entering. The first customer didn’t seem intent on leaving, instead they marveled to the other two about how the vending machine actually worked, leading to Pest figuring out who was paying for his torture to go on.
“wutz goin on??” Great. It’s Poob. This day couldn’t get any worse.
“Dud3. Th15 cr4zy m4ch1n3 ju5t 5h0w3d up h3r3, br4h!” So it was Infected that paid… That man is as good as dead when he gets out of here. “1t m4k35 thi5 w3ird l1qu1d.”
“‘Weird liquid’? Lemme see that stuff.” Finally, Mark.
Knowing that his spend was getting passed around and scrutinized was an odd feeling. Or maybe that was the machine continuing to stimulate him, refusing to let his cock soften. Honestly, he hopes they don’t figure out what it is. Even if they don’t know he’s in here, the thought of them having any awareness of his situation was mortifying.
“I don’t think that there is drinkable. Y’sure that’s safe?” Yes. It isn’t safe. Don’t drink it.
“5ur3 1t i5! 1t c4m3 0utt4 th4t v3nd1ng m4ch1n3!” Why is he such an idiot? Pest wondered why he hadn’t killed him by now.
“Uh huh… Buddy, that says it’s a “Vending Machine of Liquid Love”. Are you sure it ain’t some drug?” Insulting, but he can forgive this transgression if he stops Infected.
“w4nn4 d4r3 m3 t0 chug 1t?” He could feel Infected glancing over to Poob. Could practically feel the responding grin from the noob. He was so fucked.
“do it.” This was it. The worst moment of his life. Everyone was officially dead to him, especially those two fucking idiots. “chug, chug, chug, chug!”
He could hear the telltale sound of liquid being chugged down. His entire body cringed at the sound. There was no way he wouldn’t be found out from this. They’d figure out exactly what this machine did and want to figure out how exactly it worked. With Mark they could dismantle it easily and they’d all know it was him in here. He’d kill them. He has to.
The chugging abruptly stopped, replaced by the sound Infected spitting everything out. He knew it landed on Mark based on the loud disgusted noise he made. He had to hold himself back from laughing, karma was so fulfilling.
“What the hell!” He deserved it. Clearly, after he didn’t stop the two morons from doing something obviously stupid.
“S0rRy, br4h! But th15 dr1ink t45t3s w31rd!” He wonders why.
“Then why did ya drink it.” Oooo. Anger. Hopefully he’ll beat the two up and leave him alone. In fact, he’s betting on Mark beating the shit out of them. Go, Mark. Go.
"UR jUSt 4 h4t3r!!" Even he could sense the pissed off energy coming off the mannequin, and he’s stuck in a metal box.
“wut if,” oh here comes a ‘great’ idea. He’s sure of it. “we hav a chugging contest!” Pest’s going to fucking crash out he swears.
“Y34H! l3t’5 d0 1t!”
The relentless stimulation had kept him hard throughout the whole conversation. It was just slow enough to be teasing, never letting him over the edge. Listening to the conversation had been able to distract him well enough, but now he didn’t have that privilege. Coins went into the slot, double the original amount.
They couldn’t be serious, two in a row? Immediately? There was no way. He couldn’t do that. But the machine didn’t care. It sprung back into life, vibrations kicking up in speed. The stroker spun in reverse every five minutes while moving up and down, preventing his body from getting used to the sensations. A groan tore from his lungs, the sensitivity being almost too much.
He couldn’t make a sound. Not just because of his pride, but the fact that if he can hear them, they could hear him and he could not let that happen. The machine was loud enough to drown out the sound of his heavy breathing, but that was all.
The thing that finally tipped him over the edge was the prostate vibrator pulsing to life. He had hoped that damn thing was broken, but apparently not. It had caught him so badly off guard that he couldn’t stop the way his hips jumped forward. He could hear a celebratory cheer from someone outside, though it felt distant.
His body wanted to curl into itself as the stimulation continued. The sensation against his prostate was foreign, maddening in a way he couldn’t explain. He didn’t know what to do with the unfamiliar feeling. Somehow, it made everything feel more intense. His entire body began to feel more sensitive, it was like his entire pelvis was vibrating.
Staying quiet was starting to get difficult. Little, unmistakable whines were beginning to lace every breath quietly. His body felt taut, unable to relax for even a second. He wanted to get out, but the binds held still, preventing him from doing more than thrashing his head or hips.
His third orgasm hit like a tsunami, wave after wave smashing over his body. For a blissful moment he thought he was going to pass out from the intensity, his mind completely blank aside from the stimulation. Then, his body slumped, tremors still racking his body. He was still fucking awake.
The massager turned back off, thankfully, but the stroker stayed on. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk if he was let out at this very moment. Every part of him felt like it was made of jelly. His lungs burned as he kept gasping for air, unable to get enough. Outside, the conversation continued.
“1 b3T 1 C4n chug Th15 f45t3R tH4n y0u!” Pest hoped he choked on it and died.
“yea? i bet i can chug twice as fast as u!” Maybe they would drown themself. Maybe, they’d suffocate and pass out so he wouldn’t have to hear their annoying voice anymore.
“N0 sP1tT1Ng 4Ny 0uT, 4ND y0u h4V3 t0 sW4ll0w!” He can’t decide if he hates that or not. On one hand, increased chance of death, on the other… ew.
“deal!” How… have they survived this long?
“Ain’t a goddamn thing going on in either of your heads, huh?” Pest can’t help but agree.
“R34dy. S3t. G0!” He doesn’t want to be here for this.
Sounds of chugging fill the room. If he thought the first time was bad, this was infinitely worse. This time he could hear the audible gulps between the two. Neither backed down, when one took a breath, the other would try to outdo them only to have to breathe as well. It’s not like there was a lot, but the thickness was probably what was messing them up.
The two ended up finishing at the same time, both panting like dogs, probably staring each other down. Pest hoped, no, prayed they would take the tie and be done. He was ready to zone out and fall asleep so he can be taken out of this stupid box. But luck wasn’t in his favor.
“dat was really bad…” No shit, Sherlock. He could hear Poob coughing.
“WH0 W0N???” Yes, Mark. Who.
“I’m not sure. I think y’all tied somehow.” Couldn’t keep his mouth shut could he. Couldn’t have, oh Pest doesn’t know, lied? Just pick someone and go with it?
“a tie?? we can’t hav dat!” Why? Just, why?
“Y34! W3 g0tt4 53ttl3 1t s0m3 h0w…” No. They don’t have to settle it. They can just accept the tie and move along. Settling this stupid contest is not a necessity.
“um… oh! wut if we try to—”
A muffled noise cuts them off. It came from the vending machine.
“did u hear dat?” Shit. Pest hadn’t meant to do that. It just slipped out.
“1s th3 m4ch1n3 br0k3n?” Yes. Just assume yes and leave.
“Y’all probably overworked it puttin’ two order in at once.” They did. He was overworked and underpaid, and he just wants to go home.
“N0, 1T’5 4 v5nd1ng m4ch1n3! 1t’5 ju5t w4rm1ng up f0r th3 4m0unt 0f c01n5 1’m 4b0ut t0 thr0w 1n 1t!” Don’T YOU DARE—
Pest felt like he was going to scream. That virus infected jackass shoved 3 cups worth of coins into the machine. He was going to die in here. He was going to die by too many orgasms, something he wasn’t sure was even possible before this. All the money he would’ve gotten, now, down the drain because he didn’t read a mountain of paperwork before signing.
The machine wasted no time in violating him. The vibrator against his prostate started up with zero mercy, pulsing wave after wave of pleasure through his body. Everything felt too hot, the mist of liquid aphrodisiac only cooled his skin for a second before merely adding to the heat.
His voice tore through the gag, muffled but audible. He wanted to stop himself, humiliation painting burning his face, but the overstimulation hacked down his defenses, leaving him unable to prevent the noises pouring from his lips.
“i think da noises got louder…”
Fuck, fuck, he couldn’t—His body twitched violently, back arching as his toes curled. A whine clawed it’s was out his throat, eyes suddenly wet from unshed tears. There was no way he could do it, no way he could go for another three rounds of this. He was already broken just from this.
“Buddy, I think you just broke that damn thing.”
It’s too much. Overstimulation gnawed at his frayed nerves, his body drenched in sweat. An orgasm swept through him, but nothing stopped. There wasn’t any break or mercy for him, just the continuous overwhelming pleasure.
“1 d1dN’t bR34k 1T! Th4t’5 h0w 1t’5 sUPp053d t0 w0rk!”
Pest’s thighs were trembling hard. He needed to get out, no matter what. Yet, no matter how hard he thrashed his body around, nothing changed. He cried out, a snarl that turned to a moan. Every pulse from the prostate massager made his hips jerk and twitch while every stroke made him want to run from the stimulation. The pleasure only mounted higher, never going down.
“den… itz meant to be shaking lik dat?”
Could he even call this pleasure? Pain was mixed into every breath, every movement, his skin oversensitive. His dick felt raw with how the machine milked him for all his worth. With a hoarse cry he came again. The time between orgasms was becoming shorter, he just needed one more, then this will be over. One more.
“0f c0ur53! 1 th1nk.”
Pleas tumbled out of Pest, muffled by the gag. His eyes rolled back in his skull, unseeing and glossy from tears. He was tense, too tense. His muscles worked overtime, unable, or rather, unwilling to relax. Blood ran down his wrists from clenching his hands into fists too hard.
The pain was meant to ground him, to help him cope with the onslaught of sensations, but the feeling of blood trickling down his arm blended into the pleasure-pain that had overwhelmed his body. He could feel something building within him at the base of his spine, something that he was sure would shatter him beyond repair. He couldn’t even panic before he was hit with release.
A scream rattled through the elevator, causing everyone inside to flinch back. That scream quickly fell into small, whiny sobs as the vending machine finally settled down.
“wat… was dat?” Concern laced through every word.
“1 th1nk… w3 k1ll3d 1t…” Pest certainly felt like he was killed. He was exhausted. The only thing keeping his standing was his restraints.
“We? That was all you pal.” Maybe it was time for a little nap. Yea, that sounded nice.
“M3?? 1t’5 n0t my f4ult 1t c0uldn’t d0 1t’5 j0b!” Fuck. You. He did his job wonderfully.
“I told ya it was broken.” The amount of times he agreed with Mark today was way too many. He needs to beat all of them after this, just for that.
The rest of the conversation was lost on Pest as he slowly began to pass out. Blissful darkness surrounded him, pulling him away from the painful overstimulation. He better get paid exactly, no, even more than what he was promised for having to deal with this.
Eventually, he woke up in his own bed in his apartment. He doesn’t have any memory of being pulled out of that damn torture machine, or the journey home. His entire body was sore, every movement made him wince. Glancing around he saw a note on his bed stand table, along with envelope filled with cash. He forced his body up, blinking with weary eyes as he opened the note to read:
“Thank you for testing out our latest machine, “Vending Machine of Liquid Love”! We hope your experience has been both pleasurable and fulfilling.
As per contract, your payment has been delivered to your home in a concealed envelope. We also offer you an additional bonus of $500 if you decide to test out another machine along with a 20% discount on any merchandise you buy from us.
We hope you continue to work for us and support out company!
Sincerely,
Pleasure Co.”
Opening the envelope he counted out $900. So, he was only in there for two hours? It had honestly felt like more. The memory of the relentless stimulation sent a shiver up his spine, although it wasn’t of pure disgust. Part of him enjoyed the experience, despite how degrading and painful it was. The humiliation put a hot thrill through him. Not to mention the riskiness heightened his senses, causing him to feel even more.
Maybe he would do it again. That $500 bonus does sound pretty good after all...