Date: Fri, 31 May 2019 21:58:23 +0000 (UTC)
From: Abra Cadabra <abracadabra923@yahoo.com>
Subject: trash punk phantoms (part 5)

Chapter 5: Freaking Out

Spit had his mohawk in a little bun again. Tonight, instead of his old
loincloth, he wore the thong in his hair color. There was already a wet
spot of precum at the tip.

He watched Crisp, whose job it now was to bring bags to the depot when
anybody entered with more than what fit onto a belt. The Big Bull had
exchanged his dick pouch for one of K's loincloths, to show off the Apex
emblem.

The stream of visitors obscured Spit, so the hunk could watch his friend
toil without having to help.

Just as Spit was about to turn away, his ghost stepped out of his body. The
invisible twin took one step, then stopped, motionless as always.

Spit froze in confusion. He hadn't called upon his power.

The hunky freak dismissed his ghost twin. That had been weird.

Before Spit could start worrying, he spotted a familiar pair of black
eyes. The force field freak saw him two and responded by using his power
from afar.

Spit was staggered and conjured his ghost twin as he walked up to the other
freak.

"Yo, I'm Spit. I never asked your name."

The new freak nodded. "I'm Eff. And your name is Spit cause...?"

Spit simply opened his mouth wide. Eff was kind enough to grab the hunk by
his jaw and pull their faces together.

Eff dropped his saliva gently on Spit's tongue, then held one nostril
closed and snotted into the mouth, too.

Spit swallowed. His thong was expanding as he grew a boner. "Yo, I never
told you my power either, right?"

"No, what is it?"

The ghost knelt down behind Eff, pulled the man's ass apart under the hip
scarf and tongued his hole.

"A second me," Spit said with a grin as Eff grimaced with surprise and
pleasure.

"More..." Eff demanded.

"I... don't know if that's allowed. There are people in the street and-"

Eff laughed. "No one's going to see."

Spit shrugged and had his ghost twin push the hip scarf aside as much as
necessary, then let it fuck the new freak – slowly to avoid causing
suspicious.

Meanwhile, Eff held still, clearly enjoying the option to fuck in public
without anyone around him noticing.

Crisp was suddenly beside them.

"Yo Spit," said the muscle mountain and pursed his lips. After spitting
into his old friend's mouth he said, "Tell Fuck Four or someone to bring me
a Mix 12. I'll stay by the gate but I don't want to have to wait till I can
join the party."

"Sure thing," Spit said. "You seem to be doing well."

Crisp flexed his biceps. "It's a lot of work but the people love me. I used
your dad's terminal to check in with my mentor Cocksnot over at the Big
Bull Den. Things are going smoothly over there. I think I can stay in Apex
for a while, if not forever. Maybe spread the word of the Pump from here."

Spit felt his ghost twin's head move. The invisible creature was... looking
toward something at the horizon. It startled Spit so much, he instantly
dismissed the second self.

Eff whimpered as his hole was suddenly left empty.

"Time to go," Spit said. "I'll send a slave over with your drink, Crisp. Yo
Eff, want to get into the club without waiting?"


***


Even if they didn't have to wait in the queue, there was still a cluster of
people at the entrance to get past. Spit and Eff slowly shoved through
them.

"How's it going with the Dreck?" Spit asked.

"Weird place," Eff said with a chuckle, "but everyone's crazy for me. I
push guys around all day, get paid decently, and spend weekends at the
Fuck-o-Drome - if tonight is any good."

They passed the sling sets, lined up along the queue. Two men in casual
conversation got fisted elbow deep by a couple with matching
jockstraps. The third sling was taken by a pair of boys, who laughed a
lot. The one who had the other's fingers up his ass seemed shy and
giggly. Probably a first timer.

"Weird place, indeed," Spit mumbled. "Never been in a huge cave like
that. Have you explored the whole town yet?"

Eff half-shrugged. "A lot of it's empty. The experiment is over, so Gig
didn't see a point in making everyone stay."

"Wait, there are guys who get off on punching running around outside Dreck
Hole?"

"Actually," Eff said, "I think they signed slave contracts. I mean, the
chastity does nothing, so it's no loss. Not getting beaten would be like
cum denial, so being lazy slaves that get punished a lot is probably the
optimal path."

Spit couldn't fault that logic.

The duo passed Fuck One and the chief's son ordered a drink to be brought
to Crisp whenever possible.

Tonight was House Rule Night, meaning among other things a legal exception
from the all-dicks-clothed-policy.

Spit and Eff dropped their clothes into the pile at the entrance before
proceeding.

Inside the building it was too loud to talk, so Spit and the first time
visitor to the Fuck-o-Drome slipped through the dense crowd of nude guys
along the side of the dance floor.

On stage was a trio of twinks giving lap dances to three random men,
interspersed by zigzagging holograms that outlined the dancers.

Instead of the usual dancing, the kids were allowed to actually sink onto
the hard dicks below their tiny teen holes.

Above the bar was one of the many massive poster screens, showing two faces
Spit recognized – the recently scouted boys who had spent only one night
here before their apparent talents were discovered.

The boys on the moving poster wore golden thongs and dangly earrings. One
rubbed the other with sunscreen – the product they were supposed to
sell.

After half-dancing their way to the bar, Spit caught the eye of Fuck Three
and ordered Mix 1 – a classic.

Mix 1 consisted of an upper, an aphrodisiac and a stupefier – all very
quick and super short term. The final ingredient was a loosener that made
it easy to fuck without the slightest foreplay.

According to advertisement, Mix 1 was for anybody who wanted his hole
filled in the next minute. Really though, the reason it had become a
bestseller was simply that you could hand it to anyone you wanted to fuck
without hassle, when you expected the person to have other plans already.

Eff ordered Mix 3, which contained a very long term aphrodisiac,
guaranteeing the freak would still be hard and horny tomorrow, plus a
strong stupefier and an intensifier that dialed sensory perception up a few
notches.

Most likely, Eff planned to be desperately humping the floor, drooling,
totally out of his mind from the flashing lights.

When Fuck Three's tongue scanner had licked across Spit's hole, the hunk
made his way to the gallery above. He downed his drink on the stairs.

Spit arrived on the upper level as the first few foam cannons activated,
drenching the dance floor below in white clouds to the cheers of the
present men.

With about a minute left until the Mix would set in, Spit walked along the
rail. What had been the fisting area was now a place for vibrating rods
where boys and men could crouch down to have their guts auto-fucked. The
dozen bolted-down metal dildos were all taken.

Finally, the upper foam cannons activated, too, and the gallery became a
white wonderland.

Spit grinded up on the nearest guy and – covered in foam to his neck
– quickly had a dick inside him.

Thirty seconds and his hole was dripping with cum. He'd have liked a little
more. A boy in front of him slipped and fell, sinking completely. Spit
crouched down into the whiteness and sat right on the already hard teen
dick.

With two loads up his hole, Spit made his way back down, now that the first
load of foam was somewhat less deep. The party-foam made skin slippery so
most guys were already on the ground, unable and unwilling to fight to a
stand.

Leaving the orgy behind, Spit went back to the bar where Fuck Four got Mix
1 cans practically torn from his hands.

Spit pointed at the menu and got himself a Mix 2. Its quick downer made the
slow upper have an amazingly strong effect without needing to overwhelm his
mind. It also contained a stupefier that worked exactly as slowly as the
upper.

Mix 2's overall effect was quite interesting, Spit just usually preferred
something with an aphrodisiac. Not on House Rule Night, tough, where the
point was to fuck until exhaustion and then party naked, sexually spent.

When paying, Spit squeezed his ass to make sure a big blob of double-cum
ran down his taint just as the slave had to slobber it.

Slick from foam, Spit downed his second drink and threw himself into the
orgy on the dancefloor, sliding his dick right into the first ass presented
to him.

The foam cannons spewed their second load and Spit caught a glimpse of Eff
before everything was covered again. The new freak was in fact drooling,
kneeling at the border of the dancefloor – or rather, orgyfloor – and
jerked his mostly soft dick with glassy eyes.

Spit was hit by a warm stream. Someone stood above him in the foam and
pissed. The hunk tried to catch all he could, just as his dick unloaded.

Then the upper and stupefier of his Mix 2 started taking effect and he
became part of the wriggling mass of sexed up, senselessly drugged out guys
in the foam.


***


Normally, Spit went home at some point during the night.

Only on rare occasions had he managed to fall asleep on the ground with the
music still thumping.

The hunk woke up amid other stragglers, entwined with a buff boy's legs.

Fuck One and Two were already flushing the gallery, cold soap water
spraying down on the thinned crowd from above.

Eff crawled up to Spit, his dick predictably semi-hard still.

"Great party, gotta go."

Spit only hummed. His eyes were still adjusting to the light. All screens
were off, nothing was flashing and the entire space was relatively
quiet. He'd just stick around for five minutes, until the sleepiness wore
off.

Then he noticed a presence. His ghost twin was outside his body, looking
straight ahead. Before Spit could react, the unreal being took a step away
from its owner. The freak dismissed his ghost, slightly terrified.

"Yo Spit," a familiar voice said. It was Rockhard.

The punk leader was nude, his violet thong in hand.

"W-wha...?" Spit mumbled.

"Zee asked us to help out at the back. Still want to be a trash punk? You
better show up."

"Sure..."

Spit made it to a stand, wobbly both from tiredness and from the slippery
floor.

Rockhard leaned in and spat in the hunk's mouth before going ahead. Spit's
morning wood wasn't going to go down anytime soon.

At the back of the club was Zee's office. Amid the drawers and cabinets,
the club owner stood nude with a new slave boy slowly deep throating him.

Eleven more boys knelt on the ground, wearing the simple collars and
chastity cages of thralls. Spit had an idea of what was happening.

"So it's been a year since the last time I weeded out the useless ones,"
Zee said, "and you pathetic little whores weren't even good enough to have
your dumb faces on a poster."

Rockhard handed Spit a small, thick rod with a red button.

"I picked the least stupid looking," Zee said and pointed at the thrall
sucking his dick. "Fuck Five is the lucky one. The rest of you... sorry but
there are other, better boys waiting for a chance to prove they got
talent."

"B-but," said one boy. "I've only been here for nine month and..."

Rockhard touched the boy with the rod and the thrall dropped to the ground
trembling from the taser shock.

"Now we'll march in an orderly line," Zee said, "to the train station,
where you'll be brought to a nice man who can make your chastity
permanent."

The club owner raised a thin chain, as long as his forearm. "Each one picks
up a chain and snaps it onto his collar and the one in front of him. An
orderly line, just as I said."

Spit and Rockhard shocked the ones not reacting quickly enough.

With eleven collared boys in a row, they left the building. Spit grabbed
his clothing from the entrance pile, while Zee stayed nude. He knew that
nobody was going to give him trouble.

Fuck Five stayed with them, too, carrying eleven cans of Mix 13. The drink,
colloquially known as `Bad Decision' was a stupefier and an aphrodisiac,
both of the strongest kind and extra-long lasting, leading to several days
of... well, bad decisions.

Spit would have liked to mess with the slaves a little, but he didn't dare
summoning his ghost. He wasn't sure what to make of it but the freak power
seemed to slip from his control.


***


After a fun party, work is already calling. And Spit has to figure out what
his ghost twin is trying to do.

Chapter 6: Weird Things