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.”