Message-ID: <19469eli$9901290449@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: rb@redrose.net (Timothy Reisling Betticut) Subject: TG story: Bridaled For Bullion Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: rb@redrose.net MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii X-Authentication-Warning: philabs-gw.philabs.research.philips.com: smap set sender to using -f X-Abuse-Info: Otherwise we will be unable to process your complaint properly Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <36b63c03.6790524@news.giganews.com> *** *** WARNING/DISCLAIMER: If you are too young to buy liquor, you are too young to read this. If you have a life view that wrestles with sexual ideas, you will be very uncomfortable here. While the First Amendment protects ideas, it does not adequately protect children. That is a parent's job. Please review this sort of literature before allowing your child to read it. In fact, don't allow your child to read it. This is adult stuff. *** *** Hey.. If you like this story and want to see more or Timothy Reisling Betticut's work, surf on over to his collaboration with Elayne Beneford at www.geocities.com/~elayneb/. *** *** Bridaled For Bullion By Timothy Reisling Betticut "And his blood workup?" The elegant woman in the long medical coat tapped some keys and the large screen reassembled into a half dozen graphs, each with at least three different functions squibbling their colored paths between the axis. "Well, it's clear that Mr. Kerl is heterosexual," polite laughter followed the remark from one of the technicians toward the front of the table. "And it's also clear that he likes breasts. Wow, I don't think I've ever seen such a pronounced attraction to secondary sexual characteristics," a remark that brought nods from all six of the specialists in the darkened room. "And here," the first woman drew up another screen, "is precisely the right place!" *** *** "Slide down on it honey... Come on, it's all slick and you're lubed up good, just sit down and keep smiling for the video Dear." Self-impalement. Timmy was slowly squatting down onto the high stool, one hand on the four inch dong pointing upward from the seat, the other holding his bridal skirts bunched up high in back, every millimeter he dropped tightened another tendon in his neck and chin. His legs shook as he stood atop the second rung from the floor, the only way he could get high enough to bring his bottom atop the impaler. Ooooo, it was at his opening, now... now slowly into... "Drop down Babe. Speed it up. Kay?" *** *** The Capucin Institute of America is funded for one purpose. To develop techniques to control people. And they quickly discovered that people are best controlled though their most primal hard wiring - sex. Women know that without studies. But even the most sophisticated female knows she has a problem. See, we are a species that lacks an estrus. Our females do not go into occasional heat. So when they are hormonally driven, they need to be able to demonstrate the fact. We are also a species where the male is drawn to the female by every sense. And one where the female needs to decorate herself to maximize that sensual attraction. Problem is, those decorations are difficult to focus. A girl might be attracted to an earthy brute. But if her gritty savage has a set of fantasies different from the ones she adopts, she'll get a wrong number. So women discovered that they need the largest range of lures, especially when they have no one particular man in mind. Those temptations tend to work on the largest number of men, and can often result in both unintended and messy consequences. In a word, rape. So The CIA has at first concentrated on manipulating men in their search for perfect control. Millions of tests by the most sophisticated computers have resulted in the CIA- Battery. Derk Kerl maintains security for the Federal Reserve Bank of New York. In that bank's basement is much of the world's gold supply. Question, how to get Derk Kerl to allow an intruder access to the loot? Heather Kittaen picked Kerl up. Seduced him. Slipped him "mm of Minoxidoxin. She slid him into The Sarcophagus and then they gave her subject the CIA-Battery. *** *** Had to relax, let the greased head in. He could feel the boning of his savagely laced corset forcing his back straight, feel his calves bulge from the strain of four inch spikes, feel his golden curls tossing over his bare shoulders while the chandelier earrings jounced at his neck. Careful, don't fall. Can't let himself lose his balance. "That's it, I'm in close to your face now, lick your lips and keep them parted. Smile Teather and look startled as it crams up into you. Great, that's it. Come on, work with me Sweets." Down and down he came. Up and up it went. The gown was off-the-shoulder with a fat flounce of lace all around. Hair and lace and clouds of crinolined skirts, couldn't see back there. How far to the seat? Oooooo, so full. Four inches seemed so far. Ahhhh... So... Ow! Soooooo.... oooo.... "Great. Now wriggle and giggle. Come on a little happy squeal now that you're completely onto it and fluff your skirts out all around, make a ring. GREAT! Stool's the perfect height, they just touch the floor. It looks like you're standing there. Keep your fat red lips wet Babe, and now flounce your curls. Fluff them out and let your boobies jiggle against the satin. Wonderful, it just sparkles in the lens under those lights. Your nipples look so big and hard. Stamp your feet a little and bounce just a bit so everyone can see how good it feels. Come on, DO IT, and smile, smile, smile!" *** *** You've got an aura. Oh not the weird thing that ESP geeks sing about. Nope. But it's a fact that your brain waves can be read outside of your head. You know that. Put a naked body inside 'The Sarcophagus', turn on the stimuli, and the measurements are more revealing than anything - anything - you can determine in any other way. As you know, Minoxidoxin will sedate you while giving your brain a hormonal washing that mimics the return of puberty. Inside 'The Sarcophagus' the naked Derk Kerl was bathed in visuals and sounds, scents and touches - literally billions of them. And his aura told it all. After just fifteen minutes the great Cray Computers had a hypothesis. And now with the blood workup in, the team in that dim room had a conclusion. There was no doubt about Kerl's fundamental fantasies, even his kinks and fetishes. The right slightly boyish blond, prepared with this material could make Derk Kerl beg, or rape. Regardless, his reactions, caught on tape would be enough to coerce him to anything. Because now they knew what would most shame Derk Kerl. "One thing's certain, the bait in this case has to be very careful. Or at least we should be sensitive to the fact that he could be..." "Hurt? Raped? Killed?" The elegant woman asked the man at the table's head. "So what? It's clear that our agent shouldn't be the prey, but the hunter." *** *** *** Too many feelings jouncing around inside of Tim Mitty as he wriggled and whorled atop the tall stool flouncing his virginal white skirtings, peering through his thick bangs, arranging the yards of sparkling material that fell down the back. But if he was going to get this awful mess over with, he had to keep some of his sanity. He leaned backward now and poked his gloved hands under his hems feeling about at the base of his terrible stool for the silken ribbons tied to the stool's rungs. "Well, you're going a little fast, but 'kay, pull out the ties and yea, wrap them about your waist. Great. Now how about a big bow in the back. I know you can't see it, not to worry, we'll get it fixed real sweetly afterward and cut it in. What's important is that you're tying yourself down. Uh - huh. Now the ankles?" Tim bunched Teather's skirts up into his lap exposing his white nyloned legs perched on their ankle strapped pumps. Again, he couldn't see what the camera caught, but his gloved hands soon found the shackles dangling from their chain where it was wrapped around the stool's cross-bar. "Don't look down Honey, look here at me. At the camera and keep smiling. Better. Look like you're doing something naughty. Give me a little moue'. Yea. Nice and snap the right ankle. Super. And the left. And now stamp your little feet again to make sure you're caught tight. Hey, they're pulled back so you're sort of on your toes. I like that. Tug at the cuffs a little and look at me... Look at me. Look happy with your work." Tim, packaged inside the mounds of bridal skirting and the strict snug bodice beamed at the camera being careful to slick down his glowing red lips again and felt the humiliating blush redden his rouged cheeks farther. Each bend and twist seemed to poke the intruder deeper inside of him but he was determined to get this awful thing done as he dropped and smoothed his skirts down over the shiny metal shackles joining his ankles to the stool. Now, even if the waist bow was removed, he'd never stand without the key that unlocked him. "Now, take the first package from beside you and open it in your lap. Uh-huh. I know, look surprised and curious about this. Hold it up. Great, for the first time, you can look a little worried. Yea, now run your fingers over the thing and shake the strap. Better hold it up. The strap's white and getting lost against your bust... God you've got big tits." Teather didn't have to fake surprise, Tim wasn't sure at first what the thing was. There was the top of penis, molded in semi soft latex ending in a red ball at the other end. A white strap was strung at the base of the cock through the ball. It was a gag. He was going to have to push that apparatus into his mouth, the ball was the same color as Teather's nail polish and lipstick, 'Trailer Park Slut'. "But slowly now. Turn your head a little so we can see you open your lips... Wider. Good, now eat it Babe. Right in... Farther. Good. Sit up straight. Poke out your titties. Now reach it under your hair in the back and buckle it really tight. NO! I SAID TIGHT! I don't want to come over there Bitch!" Tim was almost gagging. He knew if he tried to talk at all, he would gag around the thing. It was so big, jacking his teeth open as far as they'd go. Already a tiny drop of drool was seeping around his lower lip. And he knew that with both gloved hands behind his neck like that he was jutting his boobs up and out. He could feel them shimmy beneath the thin fabric that covered his rock hard nipples like paint. "Look in the box Teather. Isn't there something more in there dear? Right, grab that tiny lock and hold it up in front of you to examine it carefully. Good, I'll zoom in - hold it still, so you're concerned face is just slightly out of focus behind it. Okay, as I pull back, open it and feel around for the loop in the gag strap behind you. It's right between the twin 'O' rings. Got it? Is ...is it on. You can nod. Fine, that'll keep you nice and mum for the ceremony huh?" Ceremony? The hell was she planning now? But no time to wonder, Tim grabbed on the floor for the last elaborately wrapped wedding gift and slowly opened it atop his fluffy lap. Shit! "Aren't they pretty? I spray painted them white myself. Now, just take one of the thumb cuffs and put it on your right hand. Good, not too fast. Shake it a little and now before you tighten it too much make sure the open cuff comes out toward the left as you look down at your hands. Snick it tighter. Almost done Sweetie. First, drop the veil now and arrange it around your face. Fine, fluff up your hair and stretch the veil in back over your shoulders. Right, demure... Do it demurely over your boobs. Kay. Pick up the corsage and , right pin it to the front of your waist ribbon. Arrange it sweetly on your lap. NOW! Put your hands behind your neck and slide the empty cuff through the twin 'O' rings right over the lock. Got it?" Teather was going to be helpless. If Tim snapped that other cuff around his left thumb he would be hopelessly trapped atop this stool. He knew that his corseted, hosed, heeled, blonded, gloved and gowned body would be shackled and bowed onto that intruder poking horribly up his ass. He knew that his hands way up there would put even more pressure on his engorged back end. He understood that the boned corset would make him sit up straight ramming all of this weight down upon the finger that he wobbled upon. And he also knew if he didn't do it, this woman would ruin him. She'd share these new pictures with the others. He'd never teach again. Tim Mitty did not want any of this. One night of weakness. One night when he'd let his beautiful student seduce him. His horrible sin was that he was too attracted to sexy intelligent women. And this one was not just sexy. Kim Bassinger was just sexy. Heather Locklear was just sexy. Pamela Lee and Jenny McCarthy were JUST sexy. But there was a hidden video camera! All of the wonderfully terrible things that she did to him showed. And it showed just how much he wanted them done. And that would never do. Not for a teacher with a student, even an older student. She'd offered to let him have the tape back if he'd just do one thing. Then another. "What was her motivation?" Tim wondered as he teetered atop his stool. Did she hate men so much or just him? Professor Tim Mitty was never a ladies' man. Probably why he'd become a teacher at a women's college. He was attracted to girls of course. He wasn't some sort of fag. Or at least he didn't think he was. But now, after the feminizations. NO! He wasn't He could escape this. And.... 'CLICK!' "Ohhhh, it's even cooler than I dreamt. You're so beautiful and you can't resist anything can you Teather? With your hands cuffed up like that you're presenting your tits. Actually offering them! Neat. And the veiling softens your features even more. Good thing we used dark makeup. You can't even take off your gloves now. You can't kick off your shoes. You can't wipe off that inviting lipstick or eyeshadow. And the girls did a fabulous job on that hair. Even if you flail, it'll still look so sexy with all of those curls. You're the 'Fuck-Me' bride and.... Ahhh... that's the doorbell. Time to get your groom. Don't go away honey." Go away? Teather was in no position to do anything but proposition. It was impossible to tell that she wasn't simply standing there, hands behind her neck in a seductive pose for her husband-lover. But Tim Mitty was frantic. She didn't say anything about anyone else. That's where he would have drawn the line. Heather Kittaen was going to display him as Teather. Or at least that's all he hoped she was going to do. Except, she had a video of Tim turning himself into Teather. Of Tim donning corset, lingerie', stockings and makeup. Of Tim combing out and attaching his wig, smiling all the while. Then she'd filmed him pulling on his gown, veils and gloves and swishing out to this stool. All the while alone. Finally, she had the pictures of the virgin in white binding herself... Making herself into bridal bait for ... for.... . "Tah-Dah! Teather, meet Derk Kerl. He's going to watch your video. Then he'll..." the elegant blond grinned, but the room grew cool as a grave, "marry you." *** *** Hey.. If you liked this story and want to see more or Timothy Reisling Betticut's work, surf on over to his free collaboration with Elayne Beneford at www.geocities.com/~elayneb/ there are some very new things there right now. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----