This story is completely facetious. If you are in a locality where reading this stuff is illegal--LEAVE NOW. If you are offended by actions between two or more guys--LEAVE NOW. If you're ok with it--READ ON. This story starts off slow, and remains that way through several chapters. It's a love story--hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have writing it. This will be a very long story. Hope you hang on--Have fun. I do enjoy receiving e-mails!
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Damn Those Killer Dimples Chapter Eleven
It turned out that Monday would be a day we would never forget. It started out as usual--our two breakfasts were marvelous. I couldn't imagine what my life would be like without Matt. I was hopelessly in love. He said he was too. I left for the office--he went to do some errands, and to look for a small apartment nearer to our home. He said he'd be home around six. I thought nothing of it at the time, but as the day egged on, I felt a loss--it was an eerie feeling. I phoned Matt's cell number, but only got a recording asking me to leave a message. I asked that he phone me at the office--the call never came.
I went home and got comfortable, I asked Evan if Matt had called--he hadn't. I was getting nervously concerned, but not overtly so. I went to our bedroom and as I was hanging up my clothes, I noticed it. He had worn the same shoes he had worn the day I had the tracking units inserted in his remaining shoes--the shoes he was wearing, didn't have it in them. I tried to remain calm--I couldn't.
Nine o'clock--ten--midnight came--still no Matt--I was livid. Evan couldn't sleep either. He stayed up with me, as I tried, in vain, to calm down. I must have dozed off, cause Evan had apparently brought a blanket and covered me. When I awoke, there was no Matt--no messages on our phone--no anything. I phoned the police department to see if they had any information regarding a Matthew Montgomery--nothing had been reported. Ten o'clock came and went--I phoned my office, hoping he had phoned--still nothing. Noon came and again nothing. I had convinced myself that something terrible had happened--I was crying uncontrollably--Evan tried his best to console me--he couldn't--my Matt was a missing person. Evan and I discussed whether I should make another phone call to the police and report him missing. We both agreed that it would be unwise to do so at this time--perhaps later.
I phoned and hired some private detectives who said they were available at the time. I told them everything about Matt--they immediately started the search. I went to the office, and tried vainly to do some work--I couldn't think straight--all I could think of was Matt--it was my fault--I hadn't had that damn pair of shoes fixed while we were in New York--I should have asked Evan to have it done.
The detectives phoned me every two hours giving me updates. It seemed Matt had gone off with a pair of men--there were witness's to the event. No other leads had come. Finally, later that afternoon, it was reported that they had a witness--another gigolo who knew Matt. They always looked after one another. He had written down the license plate number of the car they had used. To no avail, the plates didn't match the vehicle--the plates had been stolen from another car. He gave the detectives a good description of the guys and of the car as well--they were the only viable leads we had.
Days went by--nothing new--I was not handling it well. I had not eaten, and continued to dry heave. Anything that went down me was met spasmodically. Evan was really worried about me, and Matt as well--he wouldn't let me out of his sight--he even slept by my side so he could keep an eye out for my every move--he was a jewel--a keeper. I would never willingly let him leave my employment--he was more of a friend.
The following Monday, there was still nothing new. I had given up hope--the one thing dearest to me, other than Matt--hope. I drove by the place where I had first him--nothing there--nothing. I drove in silence, as if in a daze--I had driven about fifteen miles toward my office--when I saw it--the car that had been described by Matt's friend. The plates weren't the same--though it had to be the same car--the dents in the side fender were there, just as it had been described. Days earlier, I had purchased a cell phone so I could be called with updates from the detectives.
I phoned them immediately--within ten minutes they were there. They told me to go home and they would let me know of any events--I wouldn't hear of it--my Matt was somewhere close by--I felt his need, his yearning for me. After several hours of waiting, the descriptives (yes, another new word) came out of a nice looking house--no Matt. Once they left, we approached the house and searched for an open entry way--there was none.
One of the detectives pulled out a credit card looking object and opened the door--the room was dark--all the drapes had been closed--no light had gained entry. I switched on a light and looked around--no Matt. I found a door, which led to a basement--no Matt. Then, as we were about to leave, I saw a flicker of light from underneath a wall--a flicker of hope--there had to be an entrance to the unseen room. We found it--there was my Matt--I knew it was him, though he looked different. He didn't have a stitch of hair on his entire body--not a single hair. He was spread eagle, suspended face down in mid air by leather straps. His head was hanging down too--his body was totally limp. I rushed to him and held up his head--his eyes were closed, and when I forced them open, they looked dazed, as if he had been drugged. He was unconscious, I sent the detectives up and out of the house, so I could attend to Matt.
Upon entering the room, I had noticed some sort of a machine that had tubes running to his dick. It was making gurgling and sucking sounds--there were gallon jugs on the floor--they had accumulated his spent cum. A large electrical tens unit (an electronic machine which puts out electrical shocks, like an electrical acupuncture machine) was there, with the leads strategically placed near his balls--it was sending jolting shocks through his body on a rythmatic basis. What the hell were these guys up to--then I saw it--he was being milked by a makeshift milking machine.
There were five gallons filled, some of which were in refrigerated containers. I shut off the tens machine and removed the electrical leads from his body--I also unplugged the makeshift milking machine. He responded not. I cut the leather straps, beginning with the feet, and slowly lowered his feet to the ground--he was limp--he was helpless. I held his upper body with my right hand and arm as I cut the leather straps that still held him spread eagle. He fell onto my shoulder--still unconscious. I heaved his hairless body still further onto my shoulder and carried him butt naked upstairs and out of the house into the sunlight--it hadn't been too much of a struggle as he was seemingly lighter in weight.
I laid him down in the back of my hummer--I looked him over briefly--I couldn't believe he didn't have a single hair on his body--not even eyebrows or eyelashes. I went back into the house--took every jar they had sucked Matt's cum into and took them to the hummer as well. The tens unit, and electrical milking machine, I also took--I had an idea. The detectives waited to spring into action, once the men returned--we didn't have to wait long either. The detectives sprung on them and easily took them under control. They were blindfolded and gagged--they were cuffed to the doors in my hummer as well--I drove to our house, with the radio blaring--I didn't want the ruffians to hear any traffic noise. Once home, I carried my still naked Matt into our home. I told Evan that I'd be gone for about three hours--he said he'd watch after Matt for me.
I returned to the hummer and drove toward Rye, Arizona where I knew of an abandoned storage shed--it was in an extremely remote area. It still had sufficient electricity to do the job. I released each of the men, one at a time. Before long, I had them both naked as blue jays--I suspended them both in mid air by leather--just as Matt had been. I stretched them spread eagle--even more than they had Matt. I hooked up the tens unit to each of their balls and spliced a connection in the tubes which went to the milking machine--it could do both at the same time. Since they were gagged, they couldn't make any noise. I decided to leave them there in that position and left. I would come back the following day to check on them and to start eliciting my revenge upon them--they would not soon forget it either. It was hot too--no air conditioning and very humid in the shed, where they were meant to suffer.
Once I arrived, home, Matt was still unconscious. I asked Evan to phone our family doctor to make a special house call. The doctor arrived, and I told him an abbreviated version of what had transpired. He couldn't believe it--he didn't want to. I told him that for personal reasons, I didn't want Matt taken to the hospital, unless it was a case of life or death. He understood and prescribed some drugs that would help Matt. We phoned for a hospital bed to be delivered immediately and for some drug holding stands, that could be used for intravenous drippings--Matt was severely dehydrated--he had lost at least twenty pounds--he wasn't nearly as defined as he had once been. My god, what did they do to him, other than the obvious.
The equipment arrived, along with a private nurse I had phoned. We hooked Matt up and the drippings began the tedious job of replenishing his body fluids. I had Evan go to the nearest health food store and purchase some herbal remedies as well as some therapeutic salves. I had also instructed him go to a nearby veterinary clinic to purchase some DMSO, a liquid that would penetrate into his body anything that it got in contact with. The liquid itself was harmless, but with the wrong items added to it, it could be deadly. The FDA had hot approved it for humans. Using rubber gloves, I mixed several herbs in with the liquid and massaged his hairless body. I concentrated on his upper arms, his biceps and his pecs--also in his groin area where his thighs met--he had to have been sore with all his muscles being stretched as they had been--there was nothing sexual about this--he had been stretched for days--I was just trying to help the best I could.
The nurse stayed with him throughout the day and well into the night. I told him he could leave, but wanted him back as soon as he felt he could return. The next morning, Matt was still unconscious. I phoned the doctor--he said it would probably be several days until he would awaken--he had been severely traumatized. He said he would come by again check on him around two. Since that would be over five hours from now, I went to check my captivated audience. Apparently the tens unit and milking machine had done their appointed jobs--two gallon jugs were full, one from each. I replaced the jugs--gave them no food--no water--the scum didn't deserve any. I lifted their heads and let `em drop. They seemed unconscious, so I removed the blindfolds and forced their eyes open--they were dazed as Matt' had been. "Good," I thought, "Maybe Matt hadn't been drugged."--I left.
I returned to our home. Matt looked comfortable enough, but I couldn't stand him not looking at me with those ever so blue eyes of his--I missed his cute dimples too. Damn, I wanted my Matt back and now. I moved him to one side of the hospital bed, so I could snuggle with him--I wanted him to feel me--I wanted him to know I was there for him. I undressed and pulled the sheets off of him as I crawled in. I pulled the sheets back over us and began massaging his chest and abs--I talked and reassured him that I was there. He began to move, ever so slightly--I was encouraged and yelled for the male nurse to come over. He noticed Matt's slight movements too. He phoned the doctor immediately--he immediately came. He checked Matt, but said the movements were not what he was looking for.
He returned to his office. I was heartsick--I wanted my Matt back--I wanted him right then. All of a sudden, there was dramatic movement--Matt opened his eyes as I was gently massaging him and talking to him--he smiled--damn those killer dimples--they were back--he was back--he passed out.
I do not open e-mails with attachments.
Thanks to Drew, TG, and Craigger--you're all great.