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Isaac has no recollection of anything happening before waking up in his current predicament, wrists and ankles tied, mouth covered with duct tape. He’s still in his room from what he can tell, his vision fuzzy and useless. He was asleep, and now he’s awake, and he doesn’t know what’s going on, his heart speeding up as he starts to panic and attempt to break free from the ties that bind him.
“Oh, no, there’s no reason to panic,” an unfamiliar voice says, the tone soothing like a mother calming her fussy baby, and Isaac thinks that’s reason to panic. Being confined is not a great way to keep him calm, but it’s not like his assailant would know that.
He’s naked, as he typically is when he’s asleep, exposed to this stranger who hovers behind him in the corner of his watery eyes, and it’s already difficult enough to breathe without the ability to pull air through his mouth. He panics.
“Shh, it’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” the voice says, a soft hand settling on his side, the other threading into his hair. The act is intimate, and the touch-starved part of Isaac’s brain wants nothing more than to lean in and savor it despite the circumstances. He chokes on his breath, sweat covering his body now—he can’t breathe, and he thinks this is how he dies.
“Isaac, just take it easy. I’ll remove the tape but you have to promise not to scream. If you do I’ll knock you out.”
He can’t respond accordingly, but nimble fingers remove the tape over his mouth, and he sucks in air like he’s a vacuum, panting and gasping as the burning in his lungs subsides.
“What—”
“Shh, hush, don’t ask questions. Just accept it, okay? I promise it’ll be much better for you that way,” the man says, covering Isaac’s mouth with his hand this time, and Isaac stares ahead at the blank wall with sobs catching in his throat and tears in his eyes.
“There’s a good boy, no need to worry. Relax,” he coos, his voice softer now. Isaac decides he doesn’t want to see his face, whoever is there to kill him. He doesn’t want to know—he only prays it’s quick and painless.
Hands move over his bare skin, his body reacting to the touch without Isaac’s due permission, but isn’t that the way these things go? The movements are predictable, teasing as he moves closer to the intended target. A finger brushes over Isaac’s hole, and he shudders. The man chuckles lowly and lets his finger rest there.
“Wow, you are a good boy, so quiet for me, Isaac. You’re already leaking, huh?” he says, and he’d be right—his cock is hard and dribbling, the tip of him sticky against the inside of his thigh. The warm fingers move away, and Isaac’s eyes slip shut as he awaits his fate, missing the heat of the stranger’s soft skin. It’s been a while, okay?
He does not say a word, doesn’t offer any noises, just lets more tears shed and drip from the tip of his nose. Something slimy and cold presses at his hole, only to melt inside him—a suppository of some kind, slicking him up.
“Usually they ask what I’m going to do to them. Don’t you want to know?”
Isaac won’t indulge this freak. He wanted him to accept it, and he has. No need to go down swinging. It’s done at this point, there’s nothing he can do.
“Don’t be mad, baby, come on, play a little. It doesn’t have to be so grim, you know.”
Isaac squeezes his eyes shut, and a new cold object presses at his entrance. This time it slips in and stays there, just a tiny cylinder plugging him up now, and soon a warm feeling expands his lower bowels. He gasps as his body pulls away, and the stranger laughs. “There he is. Just relax. You’ll start to feel pretty uncomfortable here in a bit.”
With his eyes screwed tight and his guts expanding, Isaac realizes the stranger is administering an enema, the warm liquid filling his insides and distending his stomach. A few involuntary whines fall out at the discomfort, and the stranger soothes him again, fingers in his hair as he continues emptying the contents of a rubber water bottle, until there’s nothing left. His hole flutters once the tip of the enema nozzle is removed, muscles clenching instinctively to keep it all inside and not embarrass himself in front of a stranger.
“Since you haven’t asked, I’ll tell you what I’m here for. You’re going to release your bowels for me, Isaac. That’s all I came here for, and we have all night, though I know it won’t take that long. Don’t hold back, I don’t want you cramping too much. You’ll just have to let go.”
A fresh sheen of sweat covers his body, now hot and red in shame. The stranger’s hand falls to his ass cheek, spreading him open to watch the quivering muscles hold in the enema liquid and whatever waste this sick freak is in search of. Another finger comes up to massage the ring of muscles, and Isaac blushes as he presses his face into the mattress.
“No,” Isaac cries, the first word he utters freely, and the stranger laughs, a low chuckle under his breath that sends shivers up his spine.
“Yes,” he replies, his other hand now coming to press and prod over Isaac’s lower stomach. He’s uncomfortable now, his guts moving along, growling and resisting as he clenches his hole as tight as he can. His stomach gurgles and the stranger persists, moving his guts along.
“Don’t fight it, baby. I promise it’ll feel good once you let go. Just give it to me,” the man orders, like Isaac doesn’t have much of a choice, anyway. He can hold it all he wants, but there’s not much use in fighting it if this is what he’s after—and yet, Isaac can’t help but fight it, his humiliation keeping him in check. His body betrays him, cock hard against his abdomen now, tip gooey with precum as he sucks in a breath and holds his guts in. The stranger’s palm spreads over his abdomen and presses down, and Isaac whimpers as his muscles falter and a long, wet fart releases. He swears he’s never been so red, and he can’t even see the color of his skin as of now.
“There you go, baby, good boy. No use in fighting it now, it’s already too late. Let it all out, it’ll feel so good, Isaac,” the voice coos, his fingers massaging Isaac’s hole again, stimulating the fluttering that draws the waste out of him. Fresh tears wet his eyes, and he blinks them open to stare at the blank wall again, body shivering as he holds back. He still can’t let go, no matter how easy this stranger seems to think it is—there’s a block in his mind that keeps his body from following through, and even if he does like the feeling that builds when the sultry voice calls him a good boy, he won’t give in that easily.
The freak laughs, another hearty chuckle under his breath, his hands persistent. He swipes down Isaac’s belly before wrapping his fingers around his weeping cock, and Isaac feels hot all over again, hiding his face as he cries and unwillingly bucks into the soft heat of this madman’s fingers. He’s getting raped, and yet no one has ever touched him so delicately, said his name so softly. A thumb swipes over his slit, and Isaac shudders, his hips twitching.
The man lowers over Isaac’s ear, his breath hot and electric as he says, “If you come as you shit, it’ll be the best orgasm of your life, I promise. All you have to do is let go.”
Isaac whimpers, chasing the pleasure of the stranger’s practiced hand. He thumbs the slit and strokes the frenulum, squeezing just right, building a pace. His eyes roll back, arching as his breath quickens.
“Wait—” Isaac starts, his voice broken and desperate. He can’t believe how hot he is for this, how his body has leaned into the man’s commands so easily, but his mind isn’t there and part of him wants to let go now, to feel the release the man speaks so highly of, he just… can’t…
Another chuckle, and the man’s movements hasten, one hand on Isaac’s cock, the other keeping his ass cheeks spread wide as his hole flutters in resistance.
“You’re close, baby, aren’t you? But your mind won’t let you just yet, will it?”
He whimpers again, tears slipping over his nose. He hates that this man is right.
“Good boys let go. You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Isaac? I know you are, but no one ever tells you, do they? Be a good boy, show me what you’re hiding. I promise I won’t judge you, I just want to watch your pretty hole let go.”
Isaac gasps, his hole clamping in one final act of resistance.
“Please,” he whines, and it sounds like someone else is speaking in his voice, but he knows it’s him.
“Please, what, sweetheart?”
A deep blush covers Isaac’s body, and his muscles finally start to let go.
“Say it again,” Isaac begs, hoping the assailant understands his request without having to dig himself into a deeper pit of humiliation.
The laugh strikes a match over Isaac’s spine, his sensitive tip fondled relentlessly.
“I’ll call you a good boy when you’ve done what I’ve asked of you,” he says, his voice heavier now, more demanding. His thumb teases over Isaac’s hole again, and Isaac’s vision goes white. “Show me what you’ve made, baby boy.”
And finally, without any resistance left in him, Isaac lets go.
He comes in thick spurts, warmth coating him where his cum lands over his stomach, and at the same time, his bowels release, the liquid gushing out of him before his hole widens, the solid waste he’d held in during his day falling out of him in one long, thick cylinder.
“Oh, what a good boy,” the man gasps, and Isaac’s eyes roll back as another wave of semen pulses out of him, his pelvic floor so relaxed he’s sure nothing could be remaining. The shit has poured out of him, hot and heavy against his cheek where gravity has done its job, and now that he’s come, dazed and on cloud nine, he can’t control what’s in his bladder anymore, either. Urine spills from his cock in a steady stream, and the man behind him must be coming too, babbling more praises between gasps and grunts as Isaac releases everything he’s got.
He doesn’t know how long he sits there, soaked in his waste and body fluids, his mind disassociating as he comes back down to earth. The man cleans him up, his touches still soft and sensual, though he’s quiet now, and Isaac can’t help but think he’s easily as sated. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt… ever, now that he thinks about it.
“You were such a good boy,” the voice says eventually, his fingers stroking along the seam between Isaac’s wet cheeks. “Absolutely beautiful, I’ve never had such a good victim.”
Isaac doesn’t respond, just stares at the white wall, his skin hot.
Soft lips press at the sensitive spot behind his ear, and Isaac shivers where the man’s beard bristles against him. “Be a good boy and keep your mouth shut, and maybe I’ll come back for another visit. And eat your veggies, baby.”
Isaac blushes, and the man is gone. It’s only moments later when he realizes his limbs are free, his bed clean from his mess thanks to the assailant’s thoughtful practices. Not one scrap of evidence is left behind, save for the screen missing from the open window.
A wave of confusion consumes him, his eyes watering again as he stares out the window. The enema bandit didn’t lie—that was the best orgasm of his life, the most cared for Isaac has ever felt, and he can’t help but wonder if he’ll ever get to experience it again.