Club X Pt. 4, A Truth Revealed
*
When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the same chair, same room only this time, I was as naked as the day I was born. On the table in front of me were two piles of clothing, one at each end, the clothes I wore to travel here and the expensive outfit I’d been so recently stripped of. Tentatively, I explored my aching body, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. No aches, no nausea, no fatigue. In fact, I felt great! So invigorated and refreshed, as if I had woken from the deepest sleep. I sat up, and looked about me, the room was darker now, the lights dimmed to a dull warm campfire glow but in the shadows were the unmistakable silhouettes of people.
“Welcome back, Paul,” said the now familiar voice of the negotiator.
“How long was I asleep?” I asked, absentmindedly rubbing my semi hard cock and, carefully scratching my scrotum.
“Two days.”
“What!”
“I’ve only just removed the catheter and put you back in your chair,” chimed the jolly female voice. “We take very good care of our members here,” she added, without a trace of irony or comedy.
“As you can see, Paul, two choices have been laid before you. You can dress as you were, in the finest clothes available on this planet and join us, which is my most heartfelt desire,” and here he paused, stepping naked from the shadows to pointedly re-play the fabricated ‘****’ of Peter. The threat was unsubtle, the implication clear. “Or you can return to your less glamorous garb and face the consequences of another new life entirely. Either way, you cannot return to what you once were. No one will believe you. That is the price of your night at Club X.”
“Blackmail?” Surrounded by all this finery, I hadn’t expected anything quite so banal and cheap.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said, raising his arms and clapping his hands twice. “I’m afraid I simply cannot risk you destroying our Ancient Order, an institution which has existed since before the Pharaohs.”
As he spoke, a sensually hypnotic music began to bleed into the room, a dreamily rhapsodic melody underpinned by a slow rhythmic pulse. The wall behind him dissolved and a long line of nubile teenage boys, utterly naked, exquisitely beautiful, chained together at the neck by a long length of golden cord, like slaves, danced by, playful wisps of light downy pubic hair heralding the dawn of their sexual awakening and framing their swinging swollen cocks. Blondes. Why’d they all have to be blonde? The crowd stepped from the shadows and formed a loose cordon around me and the boys.
“You want them, don’t you? Your lust consumes you. I give them all to you, now.”
“Get out of my head!”
Instantly, my cock began to swell as they cavorted around me, one long carnal conga, and as I studied their hairless backsides, their smooth legs and delicate frames, I knew that it was so true. I needed to have them all, right here, right now.
“So much firm soft flesh, so young, so fresh. So innocent. So willing to please. You could feed on them, all day and all night.”
I could feel his presence in the back of my mind, like a shadow moving in my mind’s eye. I could feel him assessing me, accessing me, reading me like a book. A stunningly beautiful boy thrust his erection towards me. My God, it’s true, I thought to myself. Or at least what should have been to myself, had I not been in the presence of this strange person. And then, unbidden, came powerful salacious urges, as if I were a mere puppet to be manipulated. As he planted more and more lascivious images in my head, each one delivering emotions and sensations more intense than the last, my penis began to stiffen and rise. I was exposed.
“Oh, you do want them, don’t you?”
The music became more defined, more structured, more primal. Again he double clapped his hands and once again, a long line of virginal teens frolicked and gambolled into the room, firm breasts, voluptuous hips, sweet labia newly dusted with pubic hair. They were similarly connected at the neck and danced counterclockwise to the boys, trapping me in three concentric rings of naked carousing humans.
“Oh, Mr Hudson, haven’t you worked it out yet? We are not human.”
I felt my mind fracture and a billion tiny shards lacerated my consciousness, severing my already tenuous grip on reality. And still the music throbbed, rising in volume to a frenetic fever pitch, to an almost ethereal crescendo. The circles of dancers were caught up in this musical web, exhorted into ever more urgent shamanic frenzy by the throbbing crazy beat. It was obvious that there was some kind of connection between them which I couldn’t quite discern, a breast or penis from which they all were feeding, driving them to ever more intense lubricious paroxysms in their trance like tarantella. Suddenly, I could hear all of them, in my mind, simultaneously. Every lustful desire, every hungry thought played directly into my own mind, as if they were my own. I almost screamed but just as abruptly I felt a connection, a deep loving glow of a connection. The adults dancing in the shadows of the outer circle began to chant, “Join us, Paul. Fuck us all. Join us all. Suck us Paul,” like a mantra. And they were inside my head, chanting, chanting, chanting. The mantra, the music, the dancing overwhelmed me. I felt compelled to obey but pinned to my seat by fear.
“Enough!” He bellowed, and the effect was immediate, and save for the laboured breathing of the dancers, the silence was utter.
In the warm glow and sudden womb like peace of the room, I found myself sobbing, my face drenched in tears, shoulders heaving under the burden of so many individual lewd and lubricious thoughts, none of which I could claim as my own. I had no notion of time, had no idea how long I had been weeping; I had never felt so alone in my entire life. This was how I imagine death will feel, the pure nothingness of thought after a lifetime of tumult and worry. The circle of young dancers parted. Their master began to stroke my hair, dabbing tears from my eyes with a pink silk pocket square.
“Now, Paul,” he started, verbally, “you must know by now that you do not walk amongst your equals here, you are no longer what you once thought you were.” He continued to dab tears form my face, caressing my shoulders with an easy firm grip. “You are not the supreme species on this planet after all. The truth is, you never were. We have been here for millennia.”
“Ten millennia?” I asked, suddenly so needy and seeking his approval. “Club X?”
“That’s very perceptive of you, Paul. Yes, named in Roman numerals. Ah, the Romans, one of the highlights of human sexual evolution.”
An image of wet naked young boys, pre pubescent and cavorting by a pale blue pool together with an equally nude and obviously aroused Roman Emperor, appeared in my mind, with crystal clarity. I could hear them. I could smell them. I could feel the heat of their bodies and the moisture in the air. I was overwhelmed by their unbridled, uninhibited joy.
“Please,” I almost wept again, “stop doing that. I can’t bear it.”
“You’re right, it is very rude of me,” he smiled, again as if indulging a sulking c***d. He returned my gaze, as a master may stare at his dog. My sobs had subsided, my face was dry and all around me were emotionless figures. They stared at me, or rather they seemed to stare right through me, as if they were wearing masks.
“You see, Paul, we are not as we appear, what you see before you is how we choose to show ourselves.” My jaw hung slackly as I looked about the room at the collection of human forms, varying ages, varying shapes and sizes.
“You don’t look very diff - ”
“Cygnus, my boy, come here and reveal yourself to Mr Hudson, if you would be so kind.”
“Do I have to?” Asked the boy, stepping up from the rear of the room. “I like this shape.”
A raised eyebrow and suddenly the boy of 14, 15 whatever, stepped boldly up, and for the briefest of moments, rearranged himself into something more closely resembling an early middle aged man except, where his cock and balls should have been, there was nothing but smooth skin. Then, just as quickly, the adorable boy was back, coquettishly giggling and stretching his penis. I had to rub my eyes, I must have looked an utter fool!
“All of it,” insisted his Master.
Again, Cygnus sighed, dissolved into middle age, only this time it continued transform, to reveal its true form. The body became translucent, still bipedal but the flesh was rearranged into shimmering luminescence, as if it were nothing more that motes of dust trapped in sunlight, bound by a luminous humanoid envelope.
“Oh,” I said. Really. It was all I could manage, I was stupefied. Dumbfounded.
“Do you know how we reproduce?”
I was mute, unable to construct a sentence, not even in my mind. I dumbly shook my head.
“Glad to see you’re still with us and paying attention,” he said, not unkindly. “I synthesise one of these,” he continued, holding up a small and familiar looking metallic cylinder, “which my chosen mate then absorbs. That is all.”
“Sounds a lot less messy,” I managed to stammer.
“Yes. Yes it is,” he reflected, a deep note of sadness reverberating through his short words. “But where is the fun in that?” He continued with gusto. “You see, Paul, your species is unique. We have travelled the Universe and yours is the only one we have ever engaged with with any kind of regularity. Can you guess why?”
Again, I shook my head.
“Fun, Paul! In a word, fun! You see, homo sapiens, out of the all countless species we have encountered across the stars, your species is the only one to copulate for fun! For no other reason than pleasure. In fact, very few couplings are for the express purpose of creating new life.”
My head was swimming with questions but I was hopelessly out of my depth and floundering. There was a lengthy and uncomfortable pause. I felt that the onus was on me to say something perceptive, something erudite and intelligent. Hell, I would have settled for something relevant to the moment but my mind felt broken.
“We can see into your minds and are privy to every hidden, secret taboo. I know what you really want, often more than you dare to admit to yourself. And I can make it happen.” He pirouetted expansively, arms outstretched, taking in the luxurious surroundings, and sighing. “Sadly, we are tied to these ridiculous financial systems which you have evolved over the years and so, to exist and function among you, we have to pay our way, so to speak. Hence all that nasty sordid business earlier. I hope you can forgive us,”
“But, why? Why go to all this trouble? Why me? Why bother with all of this if you’re so powerful? What’s the fucking point, when you can have us whenever you want!” The questions tumbled chaotically from my mouth, like balls from an upturned sack.
“Because, dearest Paul, you are our food.”
I quailed.
He wasn’t helping.
He laughed, heartily.“Oh, that’s very funny, Paul. A sense of humour; something else we have come to cherish about your species.” He stopped massaging my neck and moved in front of me. My first thought? Did he want me to blow him? His cock was very close, hanging limp and pendulous between his legs, “Relax, Paul, but hold that thought, maybe later,” he softly sighed before resuming at his previous volume, “You, my friend, watch too many movies!” And he chuckled merrily. The room chorused his laughter. Again, I wished I could see the joke. “We have no real mouths, we have no digestive tract at all. We feed osmotically on the brain energies you people release while mid coitus.”
I felt like an imbecile, what was he talking about? If indeed he was a he!
“I can’t take much more of this,” I muttered to myself.
“The more you enjoy your physical sensations, the more dopamine and oxytocin your brain produces and the more delicious the meal we consume.”
“But couldn’t you just make these things in your lab? Artificial?”
“Of course, and over the millennia, we have. Out of necessity. But the difference is quorn versus chicken! Masturbation versus oral sex. I know which I prefer.”
I hesitated for another long while. He patiently waited for me to join the dots.
“So, what you’re telling me is, Club X is nothing more than a canteen for you people? A fucking fast food restaurant?”
“I prefer the term, banqueting hall. But, yes, essentially, yes.”
“Fuck.”
“Well, quite.”
“So, let me get this straight, you will give me the best of everything this world has to offer, you will give me any fuck toy I want. And all I have to do in return is let you watch and take part in your orgies?”
“To just be close to you. And sometimes we might ask you to fuck us, in any form we choose. As you experienced last night.”
“You were delicious!” Giggled Peter.
“You see, your pleasure is meat and drink to us. We will do what we must to satisfy you, to give you the purest and most delectable joy on which we will feed. We are sexual symbionts, Mr Hudson.”
“I see,” I said, mulling over my options. “Who’s hungry?”
When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the same chair, same room only this time, I was as naked as the day I was born. On the table in front of me were two piles of clothing, one at each end, the clothes I wore to travel here and the expensive outfit I’d been so recently stripped of. Tentatively, I explored my aching body, from the tips of my toes to the top of my head. No aches, no nausea, no fatigue. In fact, I felt great! So invigorated and refreshed, as if I had woken from the deepest sleep. I sat up, and looked about me, the room was darker now, the lights dimmed to a dull warm campfire glow but in the shadows were the unmistakable silhouettes of people.
“Welcome back, Paul,” said the now familiar voice of the negotiator.
“How long was I asleep?” I asked, absentmindedly rubbing my semi hard cock and, carefully scratching my scrotum.
“Two days.”
“What!”
“I’ve only just removed the catheter and put you back in your chair,” chimed the jolly female voice. “We take very good care of our members here,” she added, without a trace of irony or comedy.
“As you can see, Paul, two choices have been laid before you. You can dress as you were, in the finest clothes available on this planet and join us, which is my most heartfelt desire,” and here he paused, stepping naked from the shadows to pointedly re-play the fabricated ‘****’ of Peter. The threat was unsubtle, the implication clear. “Or you can return to your less glamorous garb and face the consequences of another new life entirely. Either way, you cannot return to what you once were. No one will believe you. That is the price of your night at Club X.”
“Blackmail?” Surrounded by all this finery, I hadn’t expected anything quite so banal and cheap.
“In a manner of speaking,” he said, raising his arms and clapping his hands twice. “I’m afraid I simply cannot risk you destroying our Ancient Order, an institution which has existed since before the Pharaohs.”
As he spoke, a sensually hypnotic music began to bleed into the room, a dreamily rhapsodic melody underpinned by a slow rhythmic pulse. The wall behind him dissolved and a long line of nubile teenage boys, utterly naked, exquisitely beautiful, chained together at the neck by a long length of golden cord, like slaves, danced by, playful wisps of light downy pubic hair heralding the dawn of their sexual awakening and framing their swinging swollen cocks. Blondes. Why’d they all have to be blonde? The crowd stepped from the shadows and formed a loose cordon around me and the boys.
“You want them, don’t you? Your lust consumes you. I give them all to you, now.”
“Get out of my head!”
Instantly, my cock began to swell as they cavorted around me, one long carnal conga, and as I studied their hairless backsides, their smooth legs and delicate frames, I knew that it was so true. I needed to have them all, right here, right now.
“So much firm soft flesh, so young, so fresh. So innocent. So willing to please. You could feed on them, all day and all night.”
I could feel his presence in the back of my mind, like a shadow moving in my mind’s eye. I could feel him assessing me, accessing me, reading me like a book. A stunningly beautiful boy thrust his erection towards me. My God, it’s true, I thought to myself. Or at least what should have been to myself, had I not been in the presence of this strange person. And then, unbidden, came powerful salacious urges, as if I were a mere puppet to be manipulated. As he planted more and more lascivious images in my head, each one delivering emotions and sensations more intense than the last, my penis began to stiffen and rise. I was exposed.
“Oh, you do want them, don’t you?”
The music became more defined, more structured, more primal. Again he double clapped his hands and once again, a long line of virginal teens frolicked and gambolled into the room, firm breasts, voluptuous hips, sweet labia newly dusted with pubic hair. They were similarly connected at the neck and danced counterclockwise to the boys, trapping me in three concentric rings of naked carousing humans.
“Oh, Mr Hudson, haven’t you worked it out yet? We are not human.”
I felt my mind fracture and a billion tiny shards lacerated my consciousness, severing my already tenuous grip on reality. And still the music throbbed, rising in volume to a frenetic fever pitch, to an almost ethereal crescendo. The circles of dancers were caught up in this musical web, exhorted into ever more urgent shamanic frenzy by the throbbing crazy beat. It was obvious that there was some kind of connection between them which I couldn’t quite discern, a breast or penis from which they all were feeding, driving them to ever more intense lubricious paroxysms in their trance like tarantella. Suddenly, I could hear all of them, in my mind, simultaneously. Every lustful desire, every hungry thought played directly into my own mind, as if they were my own. I almost screamed but just as abruptly I felt a connection, a deep loving glow of a connection. The adults dancing in the shadows of the outer circle began to chant, “Join us, Paul. Fuck us all. Join us all. Suck us Paul,” like a mantra. And they were inside my head, chanting, chanting, chanting. The mantra, the music, the dancing overwhelmed me. I felt compelled to obey but pinned to my seat by fear.
“Enough!” He bellowed, and the effect was immediate, and save for the laboured breathing of the dancers, the silence was utter.
In the warm glow and sudden womb like peace of the room, I found myself sobbing, my face drenched in tears, shoulders heaving under the burden of so many individual lewd and lubricious thoughts, none of which I could claim as my own. I had no notion of time, had no idea how long I had been weeping; I had never felt so alone in my entire life. This was how I imagine death will feel, the pure nothingness of thought after a lifetime of tumult and worry. The circle of young dancers parted. Their master began to stroke my hair, dabbing tears from my eyes with a pink silk pocket square.
“Now, Paul,” he started, verbally, “you must know by now that you do not walk amongst your equals here, you are no longer what you once thought you were.” He continued to dab tears form my face, caressing my shoulders with an easy firm grip. “You are not the supreme species on this planet after all. The truth is, you never were. We have been here for millennia.”
“Ten millennia?” I asked, suddenly so needy and seeking his approval. “Club X?”
“That’s very perceptive of you, Paul. Yes, named in Roman numerals. Ah, the Romans, one of the highlights of human sexual evolution.”
An image of wet naked young boys, pre pubescent and cavorting by a pale blue pool together with an equally nude and obviously aroused Roman Emperor, appeared in my mind, with crystal clarity. I could hear them. I could smell them. I could feel the heat of their bodies and the moisture in the air. I was overwhelmed by their unbridled, uninhibited joy.
“Please,” I almost wept again, “stop doing that. I can’t bear it.”
“You’re right, it is very rude of me,” he smiled, again as if indulging a sulking c***d. He returned my gaze, as a master may stare at his dog. My sobs had subsided, my face was dry and all around me were emotionless figures. They stared at me, or rather they seemed to stare right through me, as if they were wearing masks.
“You see, Paul, we are not as we appear, what you see before you is how we choose to show ourselves.” My jaw hung slackly as I looked about the room at the collection of human forms, varying ages, varying shapes and sizes.
“You don’t look very diff - ”
“Cygnus, my boy, come here and reveal yourself to Mr Hudson, if you would be so kind.”
“Do I have to?” Asked the boy, stepping up from the rear of the room. “I like this shape.”
A raised eyebrow and suddenly the boy of 14, 15 whatever, stepped boldly up, and for the briefest of moments, rearranged himself into something more closely resembling an early middle aged man except, where his cock and balls should have been, there was nothing but smooth skin. Then, just as quickly, the adorable boy was back, coquettishly giggling and stretching his penis. I had to rub my eyes, I must have looked an utter fool!
“All of it,” insisted his Master.
Again, Cygnus sighed, dissolved into middle age, only this time it continued transform, to reveal its true form. The body became translucent, still bipedal but the flesh was rearranged into shimmering luminescence, as if it were nothing more that motes of dust trapped in sunlight, bound by a luminous humanoid envelope.
“Oh,” I said. Really. It was all I could manage, I was stupefied. Dumbfounded.
“Do you know how we reproduce?”
I was mute, unable to construct a sentence, not even in my mind. I dumbly shook my head.
“Glad to see you’re still with us and paying attention,” he said, not unkindly. “I synthesise one of these,” he continued, holding up a small and familiar looking metallic cylinder, “which my chosen mate then absorbs. That is all.”
“Sounds a lot less messy,” I managed to stammer.
“Yes. Yes it is,” he reflected, a deep note of sadness reverberating through his short words. “But where is the fun in that?” He continued with gusto. “You see, Paul, your species is unique. We have travelled the Universe and yours is the only one we have ever engaged with with any kind of regularity. Can you guess why?”
Again, I shook my head.
“Fun, Paul! In a word, fun! You see, homo sapiens, out of the all countless species we have encountered across the stars, your species is the only one to copulate for fun! For no other reason than pleasure. In fact, very few couplings are for the express purpose of creating new life.”
My head was swimming with questions but I was hopelessly out of my depth and floundering. There was a lengthy and uncomfortable pause. I felt that the onus was on me to say something perceptive, something erudite and intelligent. Hell, I would have settled for something relevant to the moment but my mind felt broken.
“We can see into your minds and are privy to every hidden, secret taboo. I know what you really want, often more than you dare to admit to yourself. And I can make it happen.” He pirouetted expansively, arms outstretched, taking in the luxurious surroundings, and sighing. “Sadly, we are tied to these ridiculous financial systems which you have evolved over the years and so, to exist and function among you, we have to pay our way, so to speak. Hence all that nasty sordid business earlier. I hope you can forgive us,”
“But, why? Why go to all this trouble? Why me? Why bother with all of this if you’re so powerful? What’s the fucking point, when you can have us whenever you want!” The questions tumbled chaotically from my mouth, like balls from an upturned sack.
“Because, dearest Paul, you are our food.”
I quailed.
He wasn’t helping.
He laughed, heartily.“Oh, that’s very funny, Paul. A sense of humour; something else we have come to cherish about your species.” He stopped massaging my neck and moved in front of me. My first thought? Did he want me to blow him? His cock was very close, hanging limp and pendulous between his legs, “Relax, Paul, but hold that thought, maybe later,” he softly sighed before resuming at his previous volume, “You, my friend, watch too many movies!” And he chuckled merrily. The room chorused his laughter. Again, I wished I could see the joke. “We have no real mouths, we have no digestive tract at all. We feed osmotically on the brain energies you people release while mid coitus.”
I felt like an imbecile, what was he talking about? If indeed he was a he!
“I can’t take much more of this,” I muttered to myself.
“The more you enjoy your physical sensations, the more dopamine and oxytocin your brain produces and the more delicious the meal we consume.”
“But couldn’t you just make these things in your lab? Artificial?”
“Of course, and over the millennia, we have. Out of necessity. But the difference is quorn versus chicken! Masturbation versus oral sex. I know which I prefer.”
I hesitated for another long while. He patiently waited for me to join the dots.
“So, what you’re telling me is, Club X is nothing more than a canteen for you people? A fucking fast food restaurant?”
“I prefer the term, banqueting hall. But, yes, essentially, yes.”
“Fuck.”
“Well, quite.”
“So, let me get this straight, you will give me the best of everything this world has to offer, you will give me any fuck toy I want. And all I have to do in return is let you watch and take part in your orgies?”
“To just be close to you. And sometimes we might ask you to fuck us, in any form we choose. As you experienced last night.”
“You were delicious!” Giggled Peter.
“You see, your pleasure is meat and drink to us. We will do what we must to satisfy you, to give you the purest and most delectable joy on which we will feed. We are sexual symbionts, Mr Hudson.”
“I see,” I said, mulling over my options. “Who’s hungry?”
1 年 前