Date: Wed, 15 Feb 2017 01:11:52 +0000 (UTC)
From: Abra Cadabra <abracadabra923@yahoo.com>
Subject: Ten Rings Part 3

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Chapter 3/4

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Clay made it home and dropped on his sofa in the living room. He figured he
was lucky dad worked till much later or he'd have to find a way to explain
the haircut and even more so the attire. His filthy sneakers left a trail
of dust on the ground. His thong smelled like piss. His snapback
was... Somehow it was still on his head, which in itself proved that magic
was at work.

Unable to get up, he humped the cushions, but of course didn't get his long
overdue orgasm. Strangely, the nipple rings gave him an amazing new
sensation. His eyes watered at the erotic shivers surging through him. Even
the butt plug was contributing.

If he had such fag-worthy thoughts, he was clearly beyond horny. Clay would
be glad once the games were over and he could go back to normal, without
looking – and thinking – like a homo, who enjoyed anal.

<Player 1 has refused his gift and so it goes to you. Here is the
non-refuse-able gift.>

An odd pull spread along his head. Clay forced himself up and slowly made
his way over to the mirror.

The mohawk was growing at the back, turning into a long strand down his
spine. He watched his thick hair grow until it reached his ass crack. It
was inconvenient but he could live with it until the game was done.

The hair twisted itself into a braid. It ended up not hanging quite so low
and formed a firmly tied tail from the back of his mohawk. It certainly
looked dumb on him given his current outfit but in isolation it wasn't even
that bad. Integrated into the mohawk it may have been the least gay gift he
had gotten so far.

Already about to turn away from the mirror, he saw a splash of red appear
on the very left side of his haircut. The bright red color ran all the way
to the bottom of his braid through a single strand.

This was followed by orange, running along right next to it. Now he had two
stripes in his hair. Next came yellow, then green then blue.

Before indigo and violet finished it off, he understood what was
happening. His body was now a living pride flag. This was by far the
faggiest possible style anyone could have devised.

Clay's rage grew to unprecedented heights. He needed to tear someone's head
off.

<Here is your own gift.>

Letters formed on his chest. He saw the words `Bitchboy' appear – huge
and glaring. It was appropriate, if not quite as immediately shocking as
rainbow hair. It would have to do.

"I refuse. Fuck that guy."

Clay took deep breaths as the letters faded. It was temporary. He had to
keep that in mind. He was ahead by two rings, so it was going well for
him. He was winning. Not by a landslide but it would be hard for player 1
to catch up.

He had almost calmed down when the horrible fucking demon come back into
his mind.

<Player 1 refused the next gift. What an exciting development. Not many
have wagered correctly. Here it goes, to player 2.>

Something tickled in Clay's mouth. He opened it and examined the damage,
but there was nothing unusual. Why would the idiot opponent have refused
something invisible?

"What was it this time?" Clay said and understood right away.

He now had a lisp – an incredibly gay sounding, nasal lisp that made it
sound as if he was lisping on purpose. He had the impression that his voice
was higher than before or had lost some masculine edge.

"Fuck no. This is the faggiest fucking... No no no." He hated how
impossibly gay he sounded. He didn't want to speak anymore.

<Here is the gift for player 2. Accept it or not.>

The teen had to turn around to see it. There was writing appearing across
his back in huge letters – too big to be in any way obscured by the
rainbow braid. The new tattoo said `Dick Me Down! My Ass Is Ready!'

He should collect the ring and move on but the change to his voice bothered
him beyond anything he had considered a priority. Player 1 needed to be
punished.

"I refuse," Clay lisped.

Moments after the mark had finished, the hellish voice came back. <Task
three begins now. The players have one hour. Whoever has brought more men
to orgasm wins. An orgasm counts only if the sperm is completely
consumed. The orgasm has to be induced orally. Hands may do no more than
ten percent of the work.>

Fuck no. Absolutely not. He'd give up on that one, obviously.

The attorney called.

"Hello," Clay said, his gay-ified voice being noticeable even with just
this one word.

"I just heard what the new task is. I think your opponent is likely to sit
it out, just like the other two."

"Yeah... Nah, he can have this one."

"I have almost cracked the location of player 1, but you should still keep
participating. You might have to win the regular way."

"Fucking forget it. This isn't some cosmetic change that'll go away once
it's over. This is dick sucking we're talking about."

"Well, fine. But come outside. I'm at your house. Once we have the location
I can drive you straight there."

The attorney hung up. That was really creepy. Although Clay shouldn't be
surprised that the man knew his location, too.

Risking a glance out the window, the teen saw a black jeep parked right in
front of the driveway. A buff man in his forties exited. He was wearing a
suit and sunglasses.

Once the man knocked at the door, Clay figured he didn't have a choice but
to a least talk to the `attorney'.

"Hello," he lisped as he opened.

"Hi Clay. Come on. I should get the location from my assistant any
second. Hop in."

Without waiting a second, the man returned to his car. Clay hesitated for a
moment. He had spoken to the guy on the phone a few times, but knew nothing
about him – not even his name.

After a few seconds, Clay decided the man probably meant well, at least
compared to the people who had invented the game.

He crawled into the jeep, sinking into the leather seat next to the
driver. With no further words, the attorney drove off. The man got a
message on his phone, opened the navigation app and they moved in silence.

After crossing the city for thirty minutes, he spoke up.

"Listen Clay, once I brought you to the guy, you'll have to reason it out
with him. If you both give up in the same round, you both drop from the
game. It's that simple."

"O-okay."

"I can't stay. I'll try to interrupt the game, just in case we need a plan
B."

"Uh... thanks?"

"Oh, it's fine. I take on cases like yours all the time. Pro bono, in a
manner of speaking. If my interruption is a success you will know right
away because the shackles will vanish et cetera. You'll go back to normal."

"Kay."

The drive kept going quietly for a little longer until they had reached the
next city. The attorney pulled over at the border to the inner town, near
the start of taller buildings.

"Right there," the man said and pointed at a red door set back in a side
alley. "He's in there, right now."

"I'll go then," Clay said but the door didn't unlock. "Um."

"I really think he'll have given up on this task. It would only take you
one."

"What are you talking ab-"

The attorney pressed a piece of cloth on the teen's face. Clay struggled
but grew weaker with every passing second. He had already inhaled what was
in there.

Going completely limb, Clay saw the man open his pants and pull out a
thick, already hard dick. As much as the boy struggled, he couldn't move a
muscle. His legs were still responding but not in a coordinated fashion. He
wiggled around in his seat, while the man repositioned himself.

Clay's shoulders were grabbed and the teen got pulled onto his back with
his head pointing toward the driver's side. The attorney hovered over him,
his fuck stick threateningly dangling above Clay's face.

Leaving him in total disbelieve, the boy's slack open mouth was
violated. He got the full length at once, all the way to the balls. Clearly
the paralyzing substance hadn't affected his gag reflex. Clay's body
convulsed as he was thrown around by involuntary cringing.

He barely got to taste the dick since his own spit and mucus were flowing
like a river, but this did little to console the boy. His jaw got stretched
by the attorney, who seemed to want to make sure no teeth touched his
dick. This left Clay's lips far from the dick itself, so the man had to
fuck deep into the throat to get stimulated.

Wildly chocking, the boy struggled to breathe past the thrusts. His flowing
tears obscured his vision but there was nothing to see beside the
attorney's asshole anyway. The thick balls slapped against Clay's face,
rubbing sweat off on him.

Just as some control returned to his limbs, the attorney cummed with a
grunt, shooting his full load down the boy's esophagus. Clay could feel
every single drop intrude into his body and gagged even more in a futile
attempt to force the cum back out.

"There you go. Now find player 1."

Before Clay was able to regain full use of his body, the man shoved him out
the door and drove off.

In bright daylight, the teen fought himself to a stand, wobbling
dangerously. He felt spit running off his chin, but his arms were not ready
to be lifted yet. With the shackles on him, it was hard enough not to fall
over in his dazed state.

Barely able to see through his reddened teary eyes, he registered the
people around him, staring with disgust. He must have looked as if he had
just come back from an orgy of drugs and gay sex.

<The task has ended and we have a surprising outcome to celebrate. With 4
versus 1, the winner against all odds is player 1. Is he making a comeback?
We'll see.>

Clay tried to scream out his frustration, ignoring all the passer-bys, but
it came out as a hoarse gargle only. He could finally wipe the saliva off
his face and made his way to the building where his opponent waited –
no, his enemy. He had to cooperate with the guy but afterward he'd break
his neck. Yap. He liked that plan.

The door was locked. Of course it was locked.

But there was a small window above a trash container and it looked to be
ajar. After taking a minute to fully regain control over his violated body,
the boy climbed the container and pulled himself up the window frame.

The place was some sort of club, although this couldn't be the main room.

"Hey," said one of the patrons from below. Now Clay was able to see more in
the dim light. It seemed to be an all-male clientele. The four cum donors
player 1 had sucked off were presumably among them.

"Uh..."

The man who had spoken to Clay squinted against the window. "You're a
different one, aren't you?"

"Y-yes? You mean there's been a guy here who looked like me?"

"Yeah. Same headwear and tan. Same cut, but black. Is this a trend now?"

Clay tried to shrug, but he was still pulled up on the frame and his arms
were beginning to tremble. "Well, I dunno about that. Do you know where he
went?"

"Said something about that. His car was parked a few blocks down. Sounded
like he was out of gas. Guess he'll be looking for a gas station, right?"

"Thanks," Clay said and dropped down. He got off the container.

The boy's first impulse was to look up gas stations but he didn't have his
phone. He had taken it with him, though. Hadn't he? So it was in the
attorney's car now. Fucking great.

As he left the side alley, he caught a glimpse of himself in a shop's
display window. Would anyone even tell him where to find the nearest gas
station, if he approached them looking like this?

Already people were staring or turning away. Anyone walking past him,
walked a little quicker until they were out of `danger'. There was a bunch
of tourist information around, though. One of those signs had to point him
to the next place for refueling.

<Let's get going.>

Oh no.

<Player 1 accepted the gift, will you?>

Clay got stabbed in several places. He couldn't exactly see his face well
in the reflection but he could see enough – and he certainly felt it.

Rings around his ear lobes, plus an industrial piercing through his right
ear like a flashy spear. Everything in rose gold, of course. They sure
committed to a theme.

As his tongue felt the piercing pain he opened up to see what his
reflection carried in its mouth. There was a ring sideways through the tip
of his tongue. It wasn't even swelling. The metal had just appeared as if
it had always been there.

He mumbled a bit to try out how it affected his speech. As to be expected,
the ring contributed to his gay sound. He breathed deeply. It was
temporary. Tomorrow this would all be a bad dream and he'd have kicked
player 1's ass.

The `gift' kept on giving. Three more rings popped up. One hanging on his
belly button, matching his nipples; one on his frenulum, drawing attention
back to his achingly hard dick through the thong; and one on his taint
right between balls and asshole.

Walking a few steps away from the side alley entrance, he felt the base of
his butt plug tickle the guiche ring and the fabric of his thong in turn
rub the frenulum ring.

It was like an electric shock made of horniness. Without shame, his hands
wandered up to his nipples and he played with his rings despite the people
watching. He was totally fucked in every way so he might as well gain some
pleasure.

"I accept," he lisped. It didn't matter. He was only one ring now ahead so
he couldn't exactly refuse and lose the edge.

As he had hoped, a sign told him where he needed to head to a gas
station. It was fairly likely he could catch player 1 if the guy hadn't
somehow picked a station farther way.

Clay jogged along the sidewalk, people moving out of his way as if he was
wielding a knife. His steps were swaying as if he was drunk, since the
additional weight disturbed his balance.

<Not much is happening now, is there? We should get some entertainment, how
about it? ...Ah, that's what I thought. We're firmly in the second half of
our games, so the pace needs to pick up and I know just the sounds to go
along with it.>

Demonic music played at extreme volume in Clay's head – something that
sounded like the most obnoxious parts of trash metal, dubstep and techno
had been cross bread with unearthly screams.

The voice made itself heard over the music. <Player 1 was quick to say
yes. Will you, player 2, take on the next gift?>

Still jogging, Clay felt sweat break out all over his skin. It wasn't
normal sweat like he had felt until now and like he knew it from training
– this one went from zero to a hundred and beyond in a second. He was
drenched, streams dripping off him as if he had been racing for hours, not
jogging for minutes.

"I accept."

He had seven rings on his forearm now, while his opponent has six. Three
more to go. There was probably a task coming up, followed by two gifts. He
could win. He could end this.