Date: Tue, 28 Aug 2007 8:13:54 -0400
From: bamaboi2serve@charter.net
Subject: My Body (Different)

My Body (Different)
By bamaboi
Bamaboi2serve@charter.net


     Before all of this happened, I really knew my body, and I mean knew
it. In fact you could call me the world's top expert in it's valleys and
curves, it's hairs and textures.
     I knew when a muscle had been even slightly overused, and when it was
time to use conditioner on the tufts of hair under my arms. And of course I
knew my cock best of all...knew the exact amount of pressure on the head
that would breach the pleasure-pain boundary, knew exactly when to stop
pumping to hold off cuming, knew how to use the internal plumbing to piss
on command and to stop equally fast.
     That was then. Now, I am an explorer. On those rare occasions when he
allows me the freedom to use my finger as a probe, I constantly make new
discoveries.
     Take this morning, when I awoke to find my right arm shackle
removed. A breeze blew from over the garden wall, and there was a scent of
new blooms in the air, roses perhaps. He likes roses, I knew. I had felt
their thorns.
      Knowing my time would be short, I immediately started a journey,
tracing my finger along my ribs...feeling each one of them protrude, as
distinct as a mountain range. In my previous life I had been quite
muscular, constantly turning heads at the gym. Now my bones showed.
      Before I got any further in my exploration, my forearm brushed
against something cold and my rib-search was distracted. It was metal,
about the size of a golf ball, and open, like...like, yes it was a
eye-bolt, surgical steel I guessed as I traced its smooth two-inch shaft
downward until it ended at the skin over my right hip.
     I had no memory of the implant being done, but since he kept me
drugged so much of the time that wasn't a surprise. My touch told me the
skin had healed smoothly around the bolt, with little scar tissue. I could
imagine how it looked, shiny against my unnaturally tanned skin, robotic
and mechanical. Slavelike.
     I couldn't see it, or anything else for that matter, and before I
could stretch my arm across to the other side, to my other hip, to seek a
possible eye-bolt's left-side companion, the drugs overtook me again and I
was back in the mental darkness.
      I know he plays with me during the darkness. But sometimes the mix of
drugs is off just a bit...a little too much of one chemical or too little
of another, and when that happens I retain a faint memory of events. At
those times I am almost always grateful for the drugs that are working.
     Last week was one such time. I was tied spread-eagle on the metal
table in his garden, the leather and metal restraints had stretched me so
tightly I had no room to move, other than shaking my head side to side. My
legs were pulled especially wide and lifted up in the air, telling me some
ass play was going to occur.
     I thought I knew my ass before him, but he has taught me so much! I
thought I had stretched my sphincter wide, playing with sex-partners and
their big toys and fists. But he had introduced me to an entire new world.
     He loved loosening me up so much that he could use his foot on me, no,
make that "in" me. In the beginning he had to work up to it, stretching me
with dildos and but-plugs of increasing size, then working his toes in one
by one until the entire end of his foot would slide in. Now he's got me
adjusted so he starts with the entire end of the foot and in a short period
of time, he is able to insert it all...with his leg sticking out of my ass
and his toes playing with my prostate. He has told me his eventual goal is
to have both feet in me, though even after all I've been through I have
trouble picturing it.
    This time the drug mix was off enough that I could feel him in the
room, moving around the table, attaching electric clips to my elongated,
almost feminine nipples, using some clothes pins on the tender skin on
either side of my armpits. He had already done my daily enema cleaning that
day, so I was empty and ready.
     The thick leather and steel mask he had welded to me kept out all of
the light and most of the sound, the clip-on eye pieces were almost never
taken off, and then only in very dim light. He didn't want me blind, just
blinded. The mouth piece had a tube that reached far enough inside to reach
the back of my throat. All of my breathing took place through two small
nose holes in the mask.
    The tube allowed him to piss directly into my mouth when he relieved
himself.
    At first he had taken only little squirts into the tube, to let me
adjust to the taste and the process. But now it was several times a day. I
was his urinal. Amazingly, I had become addicted to it and every now and
then he would piss into a toilet, letting me hear it and getting off on my
moans of yearning. Sometimes he would collect my piss and feed it back to
me, once doing so for two full days, making me into a piss recycling
machine.
     As I became aware of him moving around the room, I felt something move
against my stretched left leg. Was he caressing me? More movement, cool and
rough, as if he was rubbing a hairy leg against me. But in my minds eye I
couldn't picture a way for his leg to be in that position.
     I felt him insert a familiar appliance into my hole, a metal spreading
device that doctors used to examine the insides of people. He had used it
on me so often I wasn't even a little alarmed when he manipulated it so my
hole was wide open...a good three inch cavern opening into my body.
     Now the odd movement was pushing up against my balls, sliding against
them as if he had cooled his hand with ice before touching me.
    After my initial training weeks, he almost never talked in my presence,
letting me know what he wanted by brute force. Grabbing my head and pulling
it to his crotch, shoving me to my knees or roughly twisting my arm behind
me.
    But now he spoke...he must have inserted a tiny ipod-like speaker
inside the mask because his voice filled my world, a deep, completely
masculine sound that rumbled against my eardrums. My cock twitched in
hearing it.
    "It's time you learned a new skill, cuntboi," he told me.
    "I want you to meet my friend slither."
     The touching feeling then moved to the hole between my legs as he
urged the snake inside me.
      His voice tried to calm me but it didn't work. I felt the serpent
touch my bowels and passed out.

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