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2004 July 30th Friday 08:01PDT - The Hidden Step

Wednesday night, after a very late lunch, Tony and i hung out in front of the television for a while. I didn't stay up very late, as i was quite exhausted from all of the exercise i'd had. Thursday morning, i got a total of about eleven hours of sleep, during which i awoke a few times. At one point, i remembered a piece of a dream: I'm with people and we are crafting some sort of web made of strands. The strands are tough, like fishing-wire, or guitar-strings; they criss-cross, sometimes parallel, sometimes at angles. They form a great mesh, and are on the table in front of me, making some kind of geometric patterns. Another time when i woke up, i remembered from a dream: Bernadette Dillon was my French teacher when i was very young. Now she is my academic advisor, and i have to return to school, although i'm much older. All of the other students keep pushing me out of the way, cutting in front of me, i don't get to take my turn fairly. Bernadette has suggestions for me. I am only able to take one single class, because i just don't have the wherewithal to handle any more tasks. Everybody else is signing up for five or six classes, they will all be so busy. I don't think i can even handle just one. Bernadette tries to be helpful, but i lack the confidence to commence with these studies. When i finally got out of bed, it was around noon on Thursday, and Tony brewed a pot of coffee flavored with almond extract. I swallowed my handful of pills, and listened to some old favorites from my music collection.

I spent a couple hours online, writing e-mail to friends, checking Yahoo Groups for new porn, sipping my coffee, listening to the television, and reading some articles. The service department from Best Buy called and informed me that they had worked on my camcorder, but could not duplicate the issues that i was having, so i could pick it up, and i was welcome to return it to them later if it should develop more trouble. So i had a quick conversation on the phone with my friend Kenny who had returned home to Massachusetts, then took a shower, had a snack, took some cardboard down to the recycling bins, and went out for a drive. I stopped and filled the tank with gas at Fred Meyer's on West Bakerview Road. Then i went into Bed Bath & Beyond to purchase another rack for storing my CDs. Finally, i went to Best Buy, and retrieved the Canon camcorder. I brought everything home, rearranged my CD collection, checked my mailbox, balanced my checkbook, and caught up on some more e-mail.

After a very colorful sunset, the temperature started to go down, and we had the doors and windows wide open with our fans turned up high to ventilate our apartment. Despite all the circulation of air through the premises, no insects appeared in our home. This is quite different from summertime in Vermont, where we used to be swarmed by mosquitos, flies, and other airborne pests.

I spent some time in the shower, douching extensively, and attending to personal hygiene. Then i began playing with some toys. I tried the new "Rear-Ender" for the first time. Although i'd previously believed that it was made of silicone, i might have been mistaken: its smooth, shiny, slick black surface feels more like some sort of polyvinyl. It is similar in size to some of my other buttplugs, but has a curve to its somewhat conical shape, thus poking at a pleasant angle. I applied some water-based lubricant, and happily pumped it all the way in and out of my ass, about six inches deep. When i was done in the shower, i adjourned to my playspace, and arranged for a long series of albums by Ozric Tentacles to play on my iMac in the iTunes application. As their diabolical dionysian sounds wafted over my stereo-surround system, i sat at my desk, with the Rear-Ender up my ass. I looked at some Yahoo Groups, squirming delightedly on my curved plug while i surfed around cyberspace. Then i started the G-Force visualizer, watching its shapes and patterns pulsating psychedelically, and positioned myself across the room, on my (waterproofed) bed.

Kenny gave me a few dildos in the past year. One of these was "Kong Realistic"; i removed the Rear Ender and replaced it with Kong. This toy was fun for a while as i listened to several songs and shifted positions every few minutes to best exercise all my muscles. The next dildo which came out of the toybox was "the L.A. Special" which was a gift from Kenny. This has four major ripples across its length, and is nearly as wide as Spelunker. I reamed myself with the L.A. during several songs, and thought about Pasha. Pasha used to have an identical dildo, and he liked it when i slid it in and out of him rapidly, just as i was doing to myself now. I fantasized about Kenny and Pasha and other toys.

Bam was the next dildo which i used to screw myself silly. I hopped and bounced on him for quite some time, and he literally fucked the piss out of me over and over. During a few songs, i had Bam stuck against the board along the wall using his suction cup; i backed up on my hands and knees, drilling myself relentlessly for about fifteen minutes. Krakatoa was the next item on which i exercised vigorously. As the World's Largest Vibrating Rubber Dildo, he was great fun in a squatting position, a kneeling position, and even upside-down on my back with my feet up against the wall. When i could take no more of these enormous eudaemonic dildonians, i got Spelunker out of the toybox, slid him about eight inches deep in my rectum, lied back on the bed, and meditated.

Keeping Spelunker in deep, i donned my new leather hood, laced it tightly, and padlocked its buckle, rendering my head completely encased. I slipped an inflatable penis-shaped gag through the opening of the hood into my mouth, and locked its buckle behind me also. I took a couple more hits of poppers, then fastened the blindfold. In the darkness of my mind, i daydreamed about alternate fantasy dimensions inhabited by sexy imaginary friends. As my sphincters flexed in ecstatic peristalsis along the length of the dildo, i rubbed my cock and balls until my semen was flying all over me. Playing on the stereo was a bonus track from the Pungent Effulgent CD by Ozric Tentacles: it was called "Ayurvedsim". Then i deflated the gag, pulled the dildo out, removed the blindfold, and unlocked the buckle holding the gag in place, setting my mouth free.

I continued lying there for a little bit, catching my breath and humming happily as the Ozrics crackled and twanged. Then i snapped the hood's leather gag in place, giving myself something thick on which to chew. I fucked myself with Bam for a while, listening to the next album by those wild musicians: Pyramidion; this was an EP whose incredible title track was followed by four tracks recorded live during the late 1990s. I snapped the blindfold back over my face. As the song Pixel Dream swirled around me, a hallucination coalesced behind my eyelids. I daydreamed that i was encased in a special fucking machine which was basically a sentient shapeshifting bionic creature who conformed its dimensions to mine in such a way that we simultaneously coaxed each other to orgasm. In reality, i rubbed my cock, pulled Bam out of my ass, and stuck Spelunker back in. Then i ejaculated all over my hands and thighs again.

I quickly pulled Spelunker out of my ass, removed the blindfold, unlocked the buckle on the hood's collar, loosened and removed the hood, and then lied there exhausted for a few minutes. The album Swirly Termination began to play. I heard seagulls squawking outside the window occasionally. Looking through the gaps between the slats of the venetian blinds, i saw a tugboat hauling a barge away from the pier, out into Bellingham Bay.

I took my new penis-shaped buttplug (which i had not yet renamed), affixed it to my new leather and metal buttplug-harness, stuffed it up my ass, then tightened all the buckles and padlocked them in place. There was no way to remove this dildo from my ass, and i went to the kitchen sink to wash the grease off my hands. Then i sat at my desk and transcribed the morning's events thus far, using my TextEdit application. The buttplug caused a continuous stimulation as my ass muscles tried valiantly to flex and pulse, and i felt both tired and satisfied all over.

I still had an enormous new dildo which was as yet untried-- "Gargantua" was what his manufacturer's called him. I kept looking over at him fondly every now and then as i typed, trying to decide upon his new personalized moniker. It seemed possible that i would be able to engulf his first three or four inches (of his total seventeen), but i didn't know whether it would ever be possible for me to get his thickest section through my pelvic opening. This toy might provide years of challenges, fantasies, exercise, and stretching acrobatics; he seemed like a superb investment. I was happy already, and we had barely introduced ourselves to each other. Typing, writhing on my penis-shaped-plug, listening to the song "Far Dreaming", i pleasured myself and encouraged my thoughts to wander into silly realms. I tried to imagine how it would feel to have half of that gargantuan monstrosity inside me-- "Far Dreaming" was quite à propos.

When it seemed that i could torment myself with the harnessed buttplug no longer, i returned to the fantasy of entrapment in the polymorphic fucking machine. How would i handle being locked in place with a giant dildo up my ass for hour after hour, perhaps even for days? Relishing these wicked ideas, i finally had to release the harness. I unlocked the buckles and slid the straps down; as i pulled the dildo out of my ass, a deliciously juicy gob of crisco and butt-orgasm-juices came slopping out of me while i stood over the old sheets, literally dripping with the rewards of my labors. I freed my genitalia from the metal and leather, pushed everything aside, and went to my toilet to urinate. Then i returned to the iMac and continued typing as my ass twitched and my ears were tickled by Waldorfdub and Kick 98. Although i finally had nothing buried in my ass, it still quivered and squirmed after all the hours of intense prodding.

Tony was in the kitchen eating some breakfast, and the morning sunshine was lighting up our apartment. I sipped a light carbonated beverage, and spent some time writing about my actual experiences as well as my strangest fantasies. Then i swallowed my prescribed Nexium, and applied antibiotics to my finger and nostrils for what i hoped was the final day of treatment. For a couple days, i was beginning to think that the Mupirocin was affecting my sense of smell, which might have led to a lack of interest in food; despite the Marinol and the hours of exercise, my appetite was not significantly stimulated, and i could not find anything appealing.

After my muscles had a decent rest, during which i typed for about half an hour, i decided to fuck myself again. Krakatoa telepathically called to me, enticing me to get cozy on the bed and bury him way up my ass as he vibrated; together, we hummed harmoniously. I pretended that he could enter my mind much as he was able to enter my ass; a feeling of freedom expanded outward from me as i closed my eyes and rode his girth deep into my nethers.

How could i possibly deny his incredible powers? Despite my two recent orgasms, Krakatoa insisted that i slam myself viciously upon him until piss was literally forced out of me. Inhaling another hit of poppers, i heard Yoy Mandala playing; i bounced on the vibrator for several minutes, then yanked him out of my ass with an involuntary cry; more piss poured from the tip of my cock. I stood up and stretched my legs, feeling a faint ache in my hips, upper legs, and knees; i had been pushing myself as much as i could, expecting that every moment would be not only a pleasure, but also a boon to my health and fitness.

I wiped off again, then sat at the iMac while The Hidden Step began to play. Although i can't exactly choose a favorite album by Ozric Tentacles, this one might be the most likely candidate. The song "Holohedron" invoked strange thoughts in my mind as the notes and beats seduced me. In a burst of dexterity, i typed several pages about fictional characters and environments in part of a short-story which i have been composing and editing for many months. The time flew by quickly as my mind raced with what felt like creative conjurations. My story was purely for my own enjoyment, but i did sometimes wonder what another man might think about it. Who would read this personal tale of phantasmagorical events in a magical world? I didn't care too much about a potential audience-- i just tried to feel the words gushing forth from my fingertips while my thoughts catapulted beyond the limitations of my experiences, into realms of total abstract speculation. This felt very good.

I imagined that alien sexual superpowers were manifesting in the corridors of my imagination. This spurred me to more activity. I sat on the bed with a pillow behind me up against the wall. I licked the smooth black surface of the Rear-Ender buttplug, then worked it all the way into my ass. Due to its ergonomic curvature, i was able to hold it in place within my ass simply by sitting still upon it. The seagulls were still honking loudly outside the window. I looked at the objects in the space around me, memorizing everything's position so i could find it all with my eyes closed. Then i elected to indulge in a combination of stimulation and sensory deprivation.

I took my new rubber inflatable gag with a breather tube, and threaded it through the mouth of the leather hood. Then i slipped the gag between my teeth, pulled the straps behind my head, and buckled it tightly. I took one last gaze at the room, noticed the sparkling G-Force visualizer on the iMac, then closed my eyes. I put the padded blindfold over my eyes and fastened the velcro behind my head, pulling it over the edge of the rubber straps of the gag. Total darkness was ensured. Then i pulled the leather hood over my head, carefully handling the breathing tube so i could continue to receive enough air. I tightened the laces, tied them behind me, and tucked them up under the inside of the hood. Then i pulled the collar shut, buckled it tightly, and felt around for a padlock. I locked the collar, guaranteeing that the hood would hold the gag, breather tube, and blindfold in place.

I unscrewed the cap from the bottle of poppers, and held them near the end of the breather tube, inhaling some of the vapours. Pumping the inflation bulb, i caused the gag to expand inside my mouth, cutting off all air except for the single rubber breather tube. I closed the poppers and put them aside, then adjusted all of the headgear so it would be at both maximum tension and comfort. My head was spinning with the dizzy acrid chemicals, the buttplug was fucking my ass as i sat on it firmly, and bits of drool were oozing from the corners of my lips, moistening the soft leather inside the hood as i choked myself with the rubber gag. As the smell of the new toys overwhelmed my senses, i could see nothing, and i could hear Ozric Tentacles' Tight Spin playing on the stereo.

Gagging and gurgling, some of my saliva dribbled through the breather tube. I spasmed and bucked as i felt the Rear Ender intruding beyond my prostate. Squeezing my testicles with one hand while i stroked the shaft of my penis with the other, Friday's third orgasm arrived amidst a dazzling sense of interdimensional communication with powerful, majestic, loving eudaemons whose Tight Spin constricted my brains in an invocation of convoluted fantasy and intense psychosexual experience.

My fingers were sticky with semen as i grabbed frantically at the valve and deflated the gag. With a final powerful series of pulsations, my anus squirted the buttplug out. Then i felt for the tiny keys with my right hand, unlocked the padlock holding the collar shut behind me, undid the laces, and pulled the hood off. The rubber gag was still buckled in place, forcing my mouth open as i continued to drool. I pulled the padded blindfold off, and squinted as the morning sunshine gently illuminated my space. Unfastening the rubber straps, i freed the gag from my mouth, and tendrils of snot and saliva hung from my face. Now completely naked and unencumbered, i took some paper towels and dried myself. Noticing the small white gobs of jizz that had splattered yet again around my crotch and abdomen, i felt a giggle rise up from my chest, and i silently congratulated my new toy-friends for their impressive displays of power.

I intently wished with all of my heart to feel this good as frequently as humanly possible-- and perhaps even more; greed, lust, passion and obsession with my self-exploration and imaginary fantasy-lives were inspiring me to verbally construct some good ideas. I sat at the computer, typing as fast as i could, letting the horny daydreams come tumbling out of my twisted mind. After i had edited a few more paragraphs of my fiction, i returned to my diary entry and transcribed the day's events in accurate detail.

The next album which played was The Bits Between The Bits. It seemed to me that these moments during which i paused to reconsider my feelings had a special value of their own, in addition to the tremendous richness that i sensed from Friday's more exciting and frenetic times. Whether fucking myself senseless or sensing myself fucking magical, i was happy. In my imagination, i pretended to listen to the buzz of Krakatoa, and fantasized that my entire body and mind were still tingling in harmony with the vibrations.

The picture on my iMac's desktop was a painting by Susan Seddon Boulet entitled Forest Spirit, and this had coincidentally been the focus of much of my ongoing short-story in progress. I sat and stared at its indescribable beauty for several minutes, thinking about how Susan was showing me secret portals to alternate dimensions. The shamen in her fantasies projected their essences through her arrangements of colors, shapes, profiles, and astronomical patterns. In turn, Susan became a shaman in my daydream; telepathically, clairvoyantly, psiosomatically, telekinetically, teleportationally, presciently, teledildonically, these super-beings from another world of eudaemonic love were visiting me and influencing my conscious thoughts as well as the hidden step into my dreams.

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