Post by Mr. Winklewood on Oct 26, 2012 16:57:16 GMT -8
OOC: This will be my only post in this thread.
Enjoy.
Sid would probably wake up, perhaps with a hangover...
...And find himself strapped, Frankenstein style, to a bed. There would be no memories of the night before, much less the previous twenty-four hours. Leather straps would be bound across the arms' forearms, tied to the edges of the bed, and over the thighs.
Thankfully, the bed was soft, white sheets and a firm bed... with stains. Many yellow and brown stains, but they all smelled perfectly sanitary. What would perhaps be more bothersome would be all of the empty alcohol containers. Jameson, Baileys, Corona, Red Stripe...
...And several dozen emptied containers of lube and copious more empty containers of Viagra and other experimental drugs.
Yes, Sid would feel something poking painfully underneath his pants (presuming he was wearing any). And it would hurt. A lot. For all the wrong reasons.
There was one particular belt of leather that was strapped about Sid's groin. But underneath that, the monster lurked... screaming at Sid to get out.
It wasn't even proper to call it Sid's morning wood anymore. It threatened to be Sid's Morning Forest.
Perhaps from all the extra "nutrients" he had apparently ingested (willingly or no) would have caused his nails to have grown longer and his hair to grown out in his sleep... and bushier.
...If he turned his head to the right, on his pillow... he would see a six-foot, black dildo. Cold, wet, perhaps from the night before? It was difficult to tell. But if Sid pushed away the dildo... perhaps with his tongue, maybe with his nose... he would find a key laying underneath.
However, what Sid would want to do... is feel about his arms. Because the leather was dry now and would show signs of cracking. With enough leverage, he would perhaps be able to break his arms out... or slip them out from underneath if his arms felt particularly lubricated enough (and God knows why THAT would be).
Staring up, he would see the wooden attic above him... and the window pane with six metal borders that held the unbroken glass in place, the sun shining through, positively burning to the man's face. Perfectly placed.
With freed arms, it would be simple enough to undo the strap locks on the sides of the bed to his... but it would feel painful to try and slide down the leather about his waist, about his groin.
See, the "morning wood" was bent underneath it. Painfully. To slid it down would to bend it upwards in an upward L. To do the opposite would result in the opposite... and it wasn't feeling terribly flexible. Aimed like an arrow directly at the belt, the man would have to figure what direction he'd like to piss for today.
But that wasn't all.
Beneath him, beneath the floorboards, the man would hear the screams of babies and children, all left unattended.
However the man chose to get himself down, with the stairs at the end of the room or no... he would discover himself to be in a makeshift orphanage.
The orphanage floor would be covered in blood, showing the signs of a fight... and a pungent, white fluid that was sprayed all over the ceiling, dripping down.
Maybe someone else would stumble into this two-story building and discover and help Sid out...
But what would Sid do?
Enjoy.
Probably, Incredibly NSFW
Sid would probably wake up, perhaps with a hangover...
...And find himself strapped, Frankenstein style, to a bed. There would be no memories of the night before, much less the previous twenty-four hours. Leather straps would be bound across the arms' forearms, tied to the edges of the bed, and over the thighs.
Thankfully, the bed was soft, white sheets and a firm bed... with stains. Many yellow and brown stains, but they all smelled perfectly sanitary. What would perhaps be more bothersome would be all of the empty alcohol containers. Jameson, Baileys, Corona, Red Stripe...
...And several dozen emptied containers of lube and copious more empty containers of Viagra and other experimental drugs.
Yes, Sid would feel something poking painfully underneath his pants (presuming he was wearing any). And it would hurt. A lot. For all the wrong reasons.
There was one particular belt of leather that was strapped about Sid's groin. But underneath that, the monster lurked... screaming at Sid to get out.
It wasn't even proper to call it Sid's morning wood anymore. It threatened to be Sid's Morning Forest.
Perhaps from all the extra "nutrients" he had apparently ingested (willingly or no) would have caused his nails to have grown longer and his hair to grown out in his sleep... and bushier.
...If he turned his head to the right, on his pillow... he would see a six-foot, black dildo. Cold, wet, perhaps from the night before? It was difficult to tell. But if Sid pushed away the dildo... perhaps with his tongue, maybe with his nose... he would find a key laying underneath.
However, what Sid would want to do... is feel about his arms. Because the leather was dry now and would show signs of cracking. With enough leverage, he would perhaps be able to break his arms out... or slip them out from underneath if his arms felt particularly lubricated enough (and God knows why THAT would be).
Staring up, he would see the wooden attic above him... and the window pane with six metal borders that held the unbroken glass in place, the sun shining through, positively burning to the man's face. Perfectly placed.
With freed arms, it would be simple enough to undo the strap locks on the sides of the bed to his... but it would feel painful to try and slide down the leather about his waist, about his groin.
See, the "morning wood" was bent underneath it. Painfully. To slid it down would to bend it upwards in an upward L. To do the opposite would result in the opposite... and it wasn't feeling terribly flexible. Aimed like an arrow directly at the belt, the man would have to figure what direction he'd like to piss for today.
But that wasn't all.
Beneath him, beneath the floorboards, the man would hear the screams of babies and children, all left unattended.
However the man chose to get himself down, with the stairs at the end of the room or no... he would discover himself to be in a makeshift orphanage.
The orphanage floor would be covered in blood, showing the signs of a fight... and a pungent, white fluid that was sprayed all over the ceiling, dripping down.
Maybe someone else would stumble into this two-story building and discover and help Sid out...
But what would Sid do?
