** This work is a sexually explicit fiction intended for audiences 18 and over, or as determined by local ordinance(s). The reader, aware of the nature of the work, assumes all risk and liability. This work is the property of its author and may be protected under U.S. and international copyright, and may not be reproduced, modified or reworked without the author's consent. All rights reserved. **

Feedback welcome to prime12357@hush.com

(ST: "Wormhole Extra: Bobby Returns - Part 1" - SF/Fantasy, NC, Bond, Milking, Mast)


by Prime12357

The clock stared at him, unflinching and uncaring. 12:31.

Bobby couldn't sleep.

In fact, there were a lot of things Bobby was having a hard time doing these days. Since his introduction to the worm three weeks ago, Bobby's mind had been a mess. Outwardly, there was nothing wrong with him. There was a day or two afterward where pissing was slightly uncomfortable, but that was the only physical effects of his nightmarish milking. No redness or bruises or any real evidence that his ordeal ever happened at all. But the fact he felt fine only seemed to fuel his discomfort.

His last memory from that night was of the worm relentlessly fucking his cock, ignoring his squeals, begging and endless shots of semen; instead, it continued to slide a long, spiral "drill bit" down his pisshole to delight the inside of his cock until he mercifully passed out, ejaculating violently as he did. After that, Bobby's memories of the nonstop rape of his cock were just quick, almost unconnected clips: a voice talking to him from some great distance, feeling his own lower abdomen clench and squeeze from countless automated orgasms, a tingling deep within his body, inside what he can only presume was his prostate, and a complete fullness burrowing through his cock--a cock that remained so hard it nearly hurt despite its punishment of pleasure.

That terrible night, Bobby had waited a long time during his milking for some sort of pain to start, but pain had only flirted with the edges of his senses. In its place, his body had been flooded with completely foreign sensations, an odd combination of deep tickling and cool smoothness that had went deeper and deeper until it wrenched orgasms from him.

And none of this even came close to the almost dizzying knowledge that haunted him about his brother Mark. Bobby was not close to being gay. Pussy was his thing, no doubt about it. But hearing Kent talk about the years of experimentation Mark had experienced was undeniably arousing to Bobby. Just a few years apart in age, Bobby had thought Mark was the sun and the moon when they were boys. Mark was essentially Bobby's best friend while growing up in a small town where Bobby's quiet sensitivity all too often made him a target for others. He rarely spoke of it to anyone, but as children, while their parents shouted and fought down the hall, Bobby would climb into Mark's bed and take refuge, clinging to him and crying. Mark was everything Bobby hoped to be, his big brother and in a way his hero. For years, Bobby was Mark's shadow. And unlike most kids, Bobby actually liked getting his brother's hand-me-down clothes. In fact, at 14 when Mark outgrew his first set of bikini underwear, little Bobby was quick to snag them as his own, hoping secretly to absorb some of Mark's quiet strength through the worn fabric.

So all these years later, when Bobby learned that Mark had been the willing victim of Kent's wide assortment of cum-producing efforts, Bobby was quick to jump in to try it himself. Clearly even as an adult, Bobby couldn't help but follow his brother's lead. He told himself that if Mark had kept coming back time and again all those years for increasingly intense sessions, it must have been worth it.

But that was all before Kent had talked to Bobby and lured him back to his house rather than Mark. Kent waited and watched as Bobby awkwardly stripped most of his clothes off, smiling as Bobby tried to keep his straight-guy penis hidden behind his hands, then moving Bobby to the bed, tying the young man's ankles and wrists wide, laying him out exposed and vulnerable, and letting a bizarre, cum-hungry worm milk him unconscious. It was also all before Kent recorded Bobby's milking, pressing him to address Mark directly, knowing Mark would one day see the video. It was sick. It was also a secret fantasy. But now it was also real and inescapable fact, and Bobby's mind struggled with the jumble of thoughts.

He could go maybe a few hours without thinking about that night, but eventually his mind--and his cock--came back to the worm. As disturbing and nightmarish as the experience was for him, Bobby couldn't deny he loved it all. The fear, the helplessness, the forced pleasure and all the countless orgasms he couldn't avoid. It was unimaginable and hard to admit to himself, but his favorite part was having his cock fucked. Nothing he'd ever experienced could compare to how it felt when the slick shaft pistoned into his yawning pisshole, deeper and deeper, like some enormous wad of cum pushing in and out with increasing speed and force, unrelenting and unstoppable. But he didn't want it to stop. Even as it widened inside him, pressing firmly on the sides of his urethra as it ran spiral ridges through the length of his helpless prick, Bobby could only moan and shudder. He clearly remembered lifting his hips, offering himself to the merciless worm, begging it, "Awwww...fuck yeah...fuck my cock!!"

And it did fuck his cock. Hard. And he came. And he came and came...

Even now, the clock reading 1:02 AM, Bobby was rock hard at the memories. His blunt, thick dick strained at the confines of his underwear. Reaching down, he lifted the waistband of his white briefs and released his prick, gently stroking it while continuing to replay his wonderful nightmare in his mind. He soon found himself absently rubbing the end of his little finger across the tip of his cock. As his fingertip tugged at the lips of his pisshole, he began to wiggle his finger, pushing it into the edges of the narrow opening until it could could go no deeper.

He wished he could push his finger far into his cock, like the worm did.

Again, it came back to the worm.

"Fuck," he said, sitting up. He sat there for a few moments, staring at the clock. Taking a deep breath, he picked up his cell phone and quickly found the number.

"Hey, Kent? It's Bobby. I wanted to see if -- uh, yeah. Okay, sure, now is good. I just need to shower and I'll head over."

### ### ###

After pulling up across the street from Kent's house, Bobby sat in his truck for what felt like an hour, but the digital clock told him it was only 10 minutes. Lights were on and a car with out of state plates sat in Kent's usual spot. Occasionally a shadow would pass by the front window and Bobby debated silently.

Finally, with a sudden lurch of courage, Bobby stepped out of his truck into the cold air and mounted the front steps. He opened the outer storm door to knock on the front door when it jerked open in front of him. A strange man in his 40s looked at him in surprise.

"Oh hey," he said pleasantly enough. "Kent's right inside. I'll be back in a minute." Bobby noticed the cigarette held high in the man's hand, and stepped past him into Kent's living room.

The door closed behind him and Bobby looked around. During his last visit, the lights were left off, so Bobby took in the surroundings for the first time. It was a large but slightly messy space, an older house with large arched doorways to other rooms. From the kitchen, Kent stepped into the living room.

"Hey," Kent said. "I wasn't sure if you'd back out or not."

Bobby didn't trust his voice, so he only smirked and shook his head.

"Good," Kent said, staring at Bobby for a moment. He gestured toward the back of the house. "Come on, let's go downstairs."

They headed to the kitchen and then down creaking stairs into the basement. This was new territory for Bobby, his first milking being up in Kent's bedroom. The basement was dimly lighted and unfinished, and random boxes and containers lined the walls. "Watch your step through here," Kent warned. They approached a door to a recently added room at the front end of the house.

Kent stopped and turned to look at Bobby. "Okay, Bob, let's get you ready."

Without any hesitation, Kent began pulling Bobby's shirt out of his jeans. Bobby took a half step back and started to protest, but Kent firmly took control, like a parent with a child. Bobby, not knowing how to react, simply didn't and stood still instead. Soon, Kent had Bobby standing in nothing but striped bikini briefs and thick winter socks. Kent looked him over for a minute, taking in the image.

Bobby was slightly shorter and more defined than his brother Mark, but they were remarkably similar. Bobby's hair was still whitish blond, and his chest was covered with whisps of light hair. Clumps of dark blond pubes flanked the bulge of his bikini briefs. The brothers' shared taste in underwear entertained Kent, who knelt down now to peel Bobby's off. "You guys and your skimpy little underwear," Kent said, holding them low as Bobby stepped out of them.

Bobby stood there in the dim basement in only his socks, his dick pulled short into his bushy light pubes. Kent studied Bobby for a long moment, wistfully thinking back to the fun he could have had with Mark and Bobby together all those years ago if only he had known how willing they both were at the promise of uncontrolled orgasms. One particular sleepover came to Kent's mind, the three teens sharing Kent's large bed, dressed only in their underwear. But in his fantasy, the brothers were bound, naked and writhing side-by-side as he introduced them to new, unimagined pleasures. He next recalled Mark's first hands-free orgasm from unrelenting electrical stimulation, and fantasized briefly at the idea of the teenage Mark and Bobby he'd once known spraying the bed and one another with teen spunk as they watched each other ride the inescapable buzzing.

Smiling for a moment at the thought, Kent returned to the present moment and asked, "So you ready for this?"

Before Bobby could answer, Kent opened the door. As Bobby stepped slowly into the dark room, he heard some motion and a few gasping, muffled breaths. The room was slightly warmer than the rest of the basement and felt like it had shallow carpet on the floor. Bobby's eyes tried to gather more information but could only make out various frame shapes in the dim light.

The door closed with an ominous click and the room jumped into detail as Kent hit a light switch. Bobby blinked and tried to process what he saw. It wasn't easy to do.

The room was maybe 15 x 20. A series of cabinets and a counter top lined the right wall. On his left, large shelves contained boxes and various strange devices Bobby couldn't begin to identify. The back wall was covered in peg-board with an assortment of straps, ropes, paddles and other bondage gear, some that Bobby had seen online before. But the middle of the room was what captured Bobby's attention. An open metal frame "box", approximately 4 ft on each side, sat empty in front of him. Inside was a series of hanging straps and cuffs. Bobby suspected he would soon be trapped in its grip.

To the left of the box frame was a black sling of what looked like heavy leather, hanging from the ceiling with metal chains. Bobby noticed the entire ceiling was covered in a black egg-crate material. Sound proofing, he thought, and his heart sank even as his cock pulsed. If there was sound proofing, it meant there was normally a lot of noise coming out of this room. Probably screams from pleasure that never ended, Bobby thought, and again his dick throbbed.

But Bobby had been avoiding looking directly at "the gorilla in the room"--slumped in the sling was a lanky young man Bobby didn't know. Gagged and strapped onto his back, his wrists and ankles were cuffed to the four chains supporting the sling. Like Bobby, he was naked except for some dingy white socks. And between his skinny legs, barely moving, was a worm. Bobby's dick lurched once more and absently he pulled at it.

This worm looked slightly different than the one that Bobby had fallen victim to, this one slightly smaller with a faint bluish tint compared to the previous worm's silvery clear appearance. The guy looked to be in high school, but Bobby hoped he was underestimating. Bobby couldn't tell if the guy's eyes were shut completely or not, but his head leaned to one side as though he were severely zoned out. His surprisingly long dick was stretched taut down between his thighs, where the cockhead remained inside the resting worm. Bobby saw the worm's tail was buried between the guy's ass cheeks, keeping the worm suspended.

"Oh good, it's done," Kent said simply. He moved to the base of the sling. "This is Kyle, he's another feeder."

Feeder? Bobby wondered if that's really what he was. A supply of semen to a hungry worm. Part of him liked the idea.

Bobby looked at Kyle hanging there. He realized Kyle wasn't sleeping and that he and the worm were still in motion, but it was a very slow, almost loving caress. The worm was gently kneading and tugging Kyle's limp dick while the tail continued to slowly twist and pulse in his ass. Kyle made slow humping motions and flexed his toes. He looked up at Bobby with tired, pleading eyes, and Bobby got a good look at his face.

"Kent," Bobby began, "how old --"

"Oh let's not get into that," Kent interrupted. "Kyle's old enough to cum but still young enough to feed two worms a night, like he just did. Shit, one time I used three worms on him and he filled them all. But yeah, that third one took forever. After a few dry cums, Kyle's balls finally spit out some more loads and the worm was happy. That was a fucking long night, wasn't it, Kyle?" Kyle only stared blankly at a spot on the far wall. Turning slightly, Kent gestured to the counter. "Hey, Bob, grab that open container for me."

Bobby returned next to Kent with the large, snap-lid container in hand. Kent looked at the worm still attached to Kyle and gently took hold of it. "Time to get back in your cage, little buddy."

With a few tugs, the worm stretched and slid out of Kyle's ass with a plop. Kyle let out a quick grunt as it did but still barely moved. Bobby was trying to calculate how many times Kyle must have cum tonight--maybe 12? 20?--when Kent began to pull the cum-bloated worm off Kyle's dick.

It was quickly apparent that there was more going on than what Bobby could see. As the worm was lifted away from Kyle's body, it pulled his limp cock along with it, unwilling to give up just yet. A few gentle tugs from Kent sent Kyle groaning and flexing in the sling.

"Oh yeah," Kent said, "it's still way in there. Here, check this out."

As Bobby watched, Kent tugged the worm up above Kyle's crotch and began a long, steady pull on the creature. Nothing seemed to happen for a moment, and then the worm appeared to slide very slowly off Kyle's limp dick. At the same time, Kyle arched up in the sling, swinging back and forth as he let out a low, gutteral moan. Bobby watched in amazement as Kyle's dick slowly emerged from the worm -- but then he saw it. As Kyle's spent dickhead exited the worm's mouth, a narrow tentacle appeared, still firmly buried in Kyle's pisshole.

Like a long string of rubber cement, the tentacle stretched thinner and thinner until it began to slip lewdly out of Kyle's dick. Kyle was not quiet about the procedure, coming wide awake, bucking and cussing as it felt like a giant shot of cum was pulled out of his cock. "Ahhhh...fuck!" Kyle barked. "Fuckin' shit!"

His cries soon turned to screams as Kent began to tug and pull on the worm more firmly, at least six inches of tentacle visible now. Bobby also saw the kid's cock lurch with each tug, growing harder from the sensations despite long hours of cumming already. But before Kyle's cock could reach full erection, Kent said, "Yep, here it comes."

Bobby saw the lump moving up the inside of Kyle's cock, and as it slowly moved toward the tip, Kyle jerked and whimpered with renewed force. Just as the widened tip of the worm's probe slid out of the restrained young man, his hips moved in a humping motion and the clear sounds of orgasm filled the room. Pulling the worm out of Kyle pulled an unimaginable orgasm from him as well. For five full seconds Kyle, his head tilted to the side, face twisted into a pained expression, shot a nonexistent wad through a half-hard dick. Then he went slack again.

Kent carefully dropped the worm into the container and closed the lid. Taking it from Bobby, he placed it on the counter near another, much larger container. Inside it, Bobby could see more movement. Kent responded to Bobby's unasked question.

"There's four more inside that box." He lightly tapped the lid. "I just got them and they need to get fed soon. I'm sure they're real hungry after the trip they took. It takes almost two weeks to sneak them here."

Turning around, he looked at Bobby. "But don't worry, I have an old friend waiting for you. And I suspect you're just what it wants right now."

With that, he led Bobby to the frame box next to Kyle, and in a few minutes had the blond young man firmly bound and helpless. Bobby was swinging mostly by his upper legs from heavy straps. Meanwhile, cuffs at his wrists and ankles kept him in a suspended, kneeling position, his arms bent and held out to the sides. While Bobby could move some, he wasn't going anywhere until someone let him out. With that thought, Bobby's dick began to grow. He was trapped once again, the willing victim supplying fresh cum for some worm. A "feeder" Kent had said. Bobby imagined the worm permanently fastened to his cock, lapping up the tiny, painful loads it forced from his fat cock 24/7. His cock lurched even more at the thought.

"I'm going to leave Kyle here as company while he recovers a bit," Kent said. "But I don't think he's going to have much to say." Bobby looked to his right and saw Kyle glance dimly at Kent, clearly exhausted.

A moment later, Kent brought out the familiar plastic container and knelt down in front of Bobby. He moved the container just under Bobby's open legs. Without a word, Kent removed the lid and stepped back quickly. Inside the container, Bobby saw the worm move, twisting in place.

As soon as he finally saw the worm that had raped his cock, Bobby's stomach fluttered and his dick grew larger still.

"If you don't mind, I'll just stick around while you two get reacquainted," Kent said with a sly smile.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Bobby could hear his own breathing and the faint rattle of the frame that supported him. The worm appeared in slow motion for a moment, lifting its "head" up slightly and turning slowly, as if sniffing, searching.

The sound of Bobby's breathing was joined by the pounding of his pulse in his ears.

Suddenly, the worm swiveled around, facing toward Bobby's crotch above it. Like radar, it seemed to "lock on" to Bobby's growing dick, swaying slightly as he dangled immobilized in the straps, matching his cock's every move. From above, Bobby stared down; his secured thighs framed the container perfectly between his knees, allowing him to view the worm's actions. He waited. He watched. However, the worm was still not approaching Bobby. It only swayed, almost hypnotically.

For a few beats, Bobby and Kent both thought the worm disinterested, and Kent took a half step forward to investigate.

Without warning and faster than Kent had ever seen before, the worm bolted upright, opened its mouth and quickly extended a slender tentacle that wrapped twice around Bobby's fuzzy nutsack. Bobby jolted at the sudden movement but was unable to dodge the worm's grasp. The tentacle held him firmly but not painfully, squeezing his medium-sized balls gently into the bottom of his hairy scrotum. From nearly two feet below him, the worm used the tentacle to lift itself steadily out of the container, appearing as though reeled in by some unseen fisherman, climbing up toward Bobby's eager and bouncing erection. Bobby was surprised by the mass of the creature, and he grunted quietly as it tugged slightly on his balls, ascended closer to his waiting cock.

Then, to the dismay of Bobby, Kent and even Kyle, the worm extended a perfect duplicate of the drill bit that fucked Bobby's cock just weeks before, over six inches long and covered in a clear mucus. As the worm pulled itself even closer to his stiff dick, just inches away now, it aimed the slimy, spiraled horn at Bobby's exposed piss hole. Bobby's immediate protests of "Aww, please no, no, not again, nooo..." were, of course, ignored by the creature that clearly seemed to remember him. Bobby's dream, his fantasy, his sexual nightmare was beginning all over again. And this time he had completely volunteered. There had been no deception, no games, just Bobby's secret lust brought to life.

This time he had truly asked for it. And the worm was about to give him exactly what it was he dreaded...and craved. Exactly what he wanted...and feared most.

With perfect aim, the slender end of the drill bit touched the small slit at the tip of Bobby's bloated prick, and for a moment the very end of the probe softened and wriggling lewdly against Bobby's piss hole, slowly mixing its own slimy secretions with the large dollop of precum it found there. Then faster than anyone could have guessed possible, the tip wiggled inside Bobby's cock slit, the long shaft following, sliding smoothly into him, puckering Bobby's pisslips slightly inward as they rode the firm, intruding ridges.

Clearly surprised, Bobby's face took an expression between shock and agony, and he opened his mouth in a silent gasp. Seeing Bobby's response, Kent could only assign it a label of "WTF?!?" Even catatonic Kyle had lifted his head in disbelief to watch in awe at the cock-rape that was uniquely Bobby's.

With agonizingly steady progress, the spiral shaft continued to enter his cock just as it had weeks before, pushing, sliding, violating. Helplessly Bobby watched it invade him, feeling it fill his urethra entirely. Then Bobby felt it stop at the base of his cock, just outside that portal he remembered from before.

Bobby was gasping and whimpering through it all, though he knew it would make no difference. "Nooo...please no...I can't...please don't..."

The drill bit was thicker than he had recalled it, but amazingly the feelings stopped short of full-on pain. It remained an alien sensation to him, despite the long hours he had experienced it before, but one he quickly recognized and feared. Because Bobby knew the worm would not stop, would not falter, would not offer any mercy until it had wrung Bobby dry of his cum. No begging or pleading would make the slightest difference. All that mattered was that Bobby orgasmed repeatedly, and the more violently and productively, the better.

No sooner had Bobby's mind processed the sensations flooding into it, and the jumble of emotions that they provoked, when his unthinkable nightmare began again.

The drill bit began rotating slowly, literally drilling its slimy ridges around his dick hole, and soon the slick goo and precum mixture was oozing out of the small, yawning opening. Suddenly, the spiraled rod pulled back several inches, sending Bobby's bound body into fits, then the rod started pistoning in and out of his stiff prick with long deliberate strokes. It was boring into him firmly, deeply, going faster, then faster, twisting inside him as it did. Bobby's pitiful squeals for mercy went unheeded; instead, his tender dick was force-fed more alien pleasures and somehow grew even stiffer.

"OH FUCKING SHIT PLEEEEASE GAWWWD!" he wailed as he looked down. He saw the drill bit spiraling into him, and knew it shouldn't feel like it did. Never in a thousand lifetimes would he have imagined this feeling was possible. It was the most amazing sensation his body had ever known. Then he threw his head back, mouth and eyes both open wide, and screamed: "FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUCCK!!!" to the soundproofed ceiling.

Within seconds, the slimy horn had sped up even more and Bobby realized it was reaming his cock just as brutally as it had when he lost consciousness that first night. While his body was being transported to entirely new levels of ecstasy, his mind was still rebelling, still frightened. So he begged for escape that he knew would never come.


By now, the worm had also pulled itself all the way up to Bobby's dick, engulfing it slowly with its mouth, but continuing to drive the drill bit into Bobby without mercy. Just as before, the long shaft of the drill bit pushed outward at the back of the worm as it pulled partially out of Bobby, allowing the others in the room to understand just how much of it was being stuffed into his pisshole with each stroke.

As it had three weeks prior, Bobby's body was betraying him once again, and as his mind screamed for escape his cock grew painfully stiff inside the worm and his hips thrust forward in a slow rhythm, offering himself willingly to the creature that tortured him with waves of unimaginable pleasure.

His body jerked and twisted in the restraints, but the worm was firmly fastened to him now, pleasuring his thick, rock-hard cock from the inside. Bobby's face was one of someone in so much pleasure that it bordered on agony. And Bobby, unable to escape, began to moan and babble incoherently, sometimes cursing, sometimes laughing, sometimes sobbing, but always screaming.

It was then and there that Bobby, the young, straight, blond little brother of Mark, experienced the most violent, painful, wonderful, mind-blowing orgasm of his life from the sole act of having his cock drilled by the worm.

Kyle watched and listened, both amazed and terrified, as Bobby seemed to lock into a seizure, head back and mouth slack. For several seconds, Bobby stared blankly upward, eyes darting randomly. Then suddenly he convulsed once, then again, and then squeezed his eyes shut. The abrupt scream, an almost inhuman wail, that tore from Bobby at that moment was disturbing and pitiful, but also laced with pure lust.

At that moment, the rear of the pistoning rod emerged out of the back of the worm, suddenly hollow, and an enormous spray of Bobby's cum squirted out of it as it continued to glide up and down his urethra. Kent and Kyle watched, not understanding, as one...two...three...four more shots followed the first, puddling on the concrete as Bobby screamed and convulsed in the straps. The worm wasn't absorbing Bobby's cum. What the hell, Kent thought.

But before Kent could figure out the reason, the assault on Bobby's prick intensified, the familiar cilia inside the worm now making their return to attack the edges of Bobby's cockhead.

Bobby screamed while his body jerked even more. "No! NOO!!! FUCK!! No, it's too much, too much! AWWW...STOOOOOOOOP!!!"

As a result of the nonstop assault on his spent cock, his orgasm refused to abate, and the worm rode his cock all the harder, fucking it all the deeper, widening the sinister drill bit so Bobby could feel every ridge and crevice that invaded him.

He screamed, he begged, he thrashed. And he came. Kent watched and would later estimate it was almost 60 seconds of nonstop orgasm.

But even then, the worm wasn't done. Kent began to realize the worm wasn't feeding. This time, the worm was fucking Bobby, pure and simple. It wasn't interested in his semen, it seemed only to want Bobby to cum, but harder and faster than Kent had ever seen a worm do before. And knowing just how creative this particular worm could be, Kent was honestly scared for Bobby now. Kent had never had this happen and wasn't sure how the worm would decide when Bobby had cum enough. So while Bobby continued his decent into orgasmic hell, Kent wondered and worried. Just a few feet away, Kyle dangled in his sling, watching and listening to Bobby's unbelievable experience, and stifling a grown as he suddenly felt his own sore, abused cock beginning to inch its way toward a new erection.

But Bobby didn't notice any of this. Bobby was in another place, unable to escape the waves of excruciating pleasure that hammered into his mind.

And so, Bobby didn't notice when the worm raised its tail up briefly into view -- now in a perfect copy of Bobby's own fat, blunt cock -- and curving slowly around, aimed it at Bobby's straight, unprotected sphincter.

### ### ###

Part 2 coming soon.

Feedback welcome to prime12357@hush.com