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Stinky awoke staring at the back of a postcard propped up inches from his face, too close to focus on immediately. The position of his body slammed into him moments later. His knees dug into something soft—a towel?—and something was keeping him bent forward, elbows the only other thing propping him up on what must have been a mattress. His arms were pulled in front of him and held fast by—rope? He was tied up? His ankles and torso too. There was hardly any give in any direction he could shift. Nothing was uncomfortable, though—just immobile.
Finally, he squinted the note into clarity. His own handwriting:
30 minutes.
Look left.
←
So, he did, and was met with a large, wide mirror newly mounted on the wall. It had to be new—it was very much not a previous fixture of his bedroom—and that confusion delayed the next realization by several seconds: he was completely naked. He jerked again in shock, but the ropes held tight, leaving him to gawk at his own dumbstruck expression. He looked to be strung up in a makeshift web of ropes, secured at places to the solid bedframe.
“Don’t look away,” Nobody’s voice cut through Stinky’s thoughts, as sudden as ever. “I want to watch.”
Stinky hadn’t even been thinking about looking away, not until he processed all the confusing visual and sensory information. ’“What do you mean? Watch wha—”
Stinky yelped. Something was pushing into him from behind. In the mirror, he saw what it was: a machine positioned slightly above and behind him, a pole disappearing from Stinky’s view behind his thighs. He could feel what it was pushing into him, though—something soft and distinctly cock-shaped.
And, despite himself, he moaned.
Something in his body was ready for it, how easily it slid in, filling him completely in one slow, smooth thrust. It remained like that for a several seconds, long enough to make Stinky wonder if the plan was to keep him open and impaled for however long.
Plan. Stinky let out a small laugh, dizzy from the dawning realization of what was happening to him. “Nobody,” he breathed. “What—”
On cue, the machine began to move again, pulling steadily back until it was nearly out of him. But there was no pause, this time, before pushing back in, slowly and unrelentingly. It cut off any words Stinky might have made, replacing them with a gasp.
A deep laugh echoed through his head and down his spine. The machine was pushing into him at the perfect angle and he couldn’t even press back into it.
Was that what he wanted to do? His body certainly wanted to; if anything, his body wanted to keep rocking against the cock inside him at a faster pace than the thing was moving. It was frustratingly slow, pausing at the peak of every thrust to leave him feeling utterly full. Too slow—Stinky couldn’t resign himself to just enjoying the sensation.
Then, the vibrator tied to his cock turned on. He hadn’t even realized it was there—or how hard he was—before it became the only thing he could focus on. He whimpered, processing just how helpless he looked in the mirror. He could do little except roll his hips forward. How did Nobody manage this—?
Stinky felt like there must have been some way Nobody was controlling the machines remotely, internally: the machine chose that moment to begin to thrust into him with a greater vigor, cutting off all higher thought, turning the entire world into a pounding rhythm of pleasure, vibrations he could do nothing about but moan. Whenever he closed his eyes for too long, some mental nudge opened them again, made him watch himself in the mirror.
His eyes still fluttered closed when the deep, consistent thrusting and intense vibrations grew to a wave, shuddering through him then tumbling out of him as his hips tried to twitch, pull, buck against the ropes. He groaned loudly as every nerve in his body communicated nothing but pleasure for a few perfect moments, a pleasure he couldn’t even writhe away from.
It was probably the hardest he’d come in—well, a long time.
“Okay,” Stinky said, beginning to twitch at the continued sensitivity of his cock pressed up against the vibrator, not to mention the continued thrusting. “I’m done. Let—let me out.”
Silence. Stinky was ready to beg when Nobody said, “Not yet.”
“What—? Please—”
“What am I meant to do?” Nobody sounded smug. “We’re tied up.”
Stinky could only talk in single syllables between gasps. The machine slammed each breath out of him. “Wait—but—how—?”
“There is a timer,” Nobody said in a playful cadence.
“How—oh god—how long?”
“Thirty minutes.”
Right. The note. Thoughts short-circuited by another wave of vibrations making him buck against the ropes.
Not fair. The body was already turned on when I got here.
But that must have meant Nobody had a way to release him after the time was up. Stinky tried to track where each of the ropes wrapped around the bed, which way was the magical direction to struggle in that would loosen the bondage’s grasp.
He felt his head jerk beyond his control, back toward the mirror, with an internal, not fully verbal scolding from Nobody. Keep watching.
Stinky let out a low whine, which turned into heavy panting as the discomfort morphed into its own kind of sensitive, raw pleasure. The kind of sensation that left him wanting to twist and writhe beneath—beneath—
Who? Nobody? That felt wrong, somehow, but—
Cumming had taken so much out of him—it surprised him how soon he was once more pushing back against the machine in its fast rhythm.
“Nobody,” he murmured. “Nobody.”
A soft mental hum, barely anything, but after living with Nobody in his head for several months, he had gotten familiar enough with what parts of his internal dialogue felt like his own. The satisfaction, the pride? That was Nobody’s, and the warmth coaxed another spasm out of Stinky—not quite a strong orgasm, certainly not like the first, but like the machine was pounding cum straight out of him.
He was a whimpering mess by the time the machine slowed to a stop. At the same moment, the ropes pulling his arms forward suddenly went slack with an accompanying click of some mechanic under the bed that had been holding them taut. Stinky collapsed as much as the new slack would let him.
He was ready to just lay there, who cared about the soreness that would no doubt lead to later. But he heard Nobody’s voice, strangely close to his right ear: “Come on. I’ll clean you up.” Then, the body was no longer his, and he was watching himself shakily move to untie the ropes.
Stinky’s heart swelled with—something, he wasn’t sure what. Maybe just fatigue. “Next time,” he said. “Warn me first. Okay?”