Date: Sun, 19 Mar 2017 00:05:03 -0400
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: Dr. Mannbender's Sanitarium

			DR. MANNBENDER'S SANITARIUM
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     The carriage drew up at long last to a large, brown building, which
had once been a mansion for a rich man in the past. "Here we are,
gentlemen!" the cab driver called to the passengers. "Dr.  Mannbender's
Sanitarium."
     Charles stepped from the cab as dapper as he could, and a great deal
more debonair than he felt. He looked at the sanitarium with eyes of both
dread and hope.
     Simon was close behind him, the two men were as alike as two chess
pieces, the same black waistcoats, the same checkered vest over white,
starched shirt, the same stovepipe hat on top of their heads. If they
weren't quite bandbox in their appearance, that was due to their long train
ride, the additional ride of over an hour in the carriage which had picked
them up from the station, and it was now early afternoon and they'd had
only a rather perfunctory luncheon at the station which had been
interrupted by the arrival of the carriage. So Charles felt mussed, dirty,
achy and exhausted. Just the right way to feel upon entering a place that
was supposed to invigorate and revitalize their bodies and re-energize
their minds in this year of 1905.
     A man wearing a snow-white uniform came out of the door to greet
them. "Mr. Whitcombe, Mr. Farningham?" he said to Simon and then to
Charles. "Please come this way."
     They were shown, to Charles' immense relief, to their rooms, two small
single bedrooms that shared a bathroom as a small suite, with a common
sitting room joining them all. "You may settle in. An intern will come at
three o'clock to take you for your initial evaluations and therapy." He
gestured to the clothes laid out on the bed. "Make sure you are unpacked,
bathed and in these clothes, and only these clothes, at that time." And
with that, they were left alone.
     Charles consulted his watch. "It's two thirty-five already!" He said,
scandalized. "We won't have time to catch our breath!"
     "Relax!" Simon was more at ease, he'd been here before. "This is a
sanitarium. Relaxation is a part of the therapy."
     Charles was achy and irritable after the long journey. "They could
have given us an afternoon to settle in."
     "We'll spend the next two weeks settling in." Simon clapped him on the
shoulder. "I'll unpack while you shower and then we'll trade off. Let's
move!"
     Charles smiled, shrugged inside and nodded outside. The shower was
fully stocked with scented soap and large, fluffy towels, but he'd expected
that. This was a luxury sanitarium, after all, he was paying enough! A
thousand a week for this sanitarium...a scandalously high figure!  You
could buy a business for that much!
     The clothing they'd left for him was simple cotton pants and shirt, no
underclothing, and slippers instead of shoes, no socks. The clothing was
loose and felt sheer, but when he looked in the mirror at himself, there
was nothing of his body showing through. A medical examination upcoming, he
decided to deal with it.
     The interns arrived and Charles and Simon were taken to different
offices to his surprise. What occurred at the doctor's office was about
what he'd experienced at any doctor's office, he was told to strip out of
his clothes, move about, breath deeply, turn and cough. The only oddity was
the electrical device that the doctor started up and aimed a wand attached
to it at his body. He flinched, but there was only the slightest tingling
from the machine, and the doctor pressed it to various points of his body,
reading off numbers which a male intern dutifully inscribed in the chart.
After that, he was allowed to again don the minimal clothing he had been
assigned.
     Done, the doctor looked soberly at Charles. "Young man, your aura is
very much out of alignment. We will institute a strict regimen of special
massage and diet, and you must remain on this regimen diligently throughout
your stay here. You will be asked to perform various unusual activities
that are intended to realign your aura. Obey every instruction of your
therapists and you will walk out of here a new man."
     Charles hadn't expected anything like this, he'd come in part because
of a slight unusual fatigue he felt at the end of a long business day,
which he ascribed to the long hours at his desk, and an irritability that
any harried executive could be pardoned for. He expected this time at the
sanitarium to be more in the nature of a vacation. But the experience he'd
just endured both cowed and frightened him. "I shall do as you instruct."
     "Very good." the doctor consulted a gold pocketwatch and said. "We
have time for your first session right away." To the intern, "Take him to
therapy and we'll get him started." The doctor scribbled notes on a
prescription pad and tore it off, gave it to the intern.
     The therapy department was a series of closed doors, and he heard
sounds of men moaning in pleasure and sometimes in pain all around him. One
man's cries were unmistakable, and he said to the intern, "Did that man
just have an orgasm?"
     The intern barely turned his head. "The therapies to access and adjust
the aura sometimes require sexual stimulation, yes, sir. Remember that
these are all professionals, and the goal is to help you. There is nothing
scandalous or prurient about medical necessity." he chided Charles.
     "Of course, of course." Charles admitted. He'd read up on sanitariums
and knew that their methods sometimes involve unorthodox therapies. He just
hoped his therapist would be a buxom blonde in her twenties!
     They reached the therapist for Charles and he was ushered into an
office, to be confronted by not one therapist, but seven or eight! All of
them were male, all of them were young and muscular, handsome and manly,
and one was a gigantic bull of a man that stood a head taller than the
others and a head and a half taller than Charles! Obviously the one in
charge here, this man's hair was blonde, that was his only resemblance to
Charles' hopes.
     "Good afternoon, Mister Farningham." the man said. "My name is Yann,
and I am to be your therapist. If you will disrobe and get upon the table,
we can get started."
     "Who are these other men?" Charles asked.
     "They are my assistants and will help with the therapy. Please disrobe
now."
     Charles hesitated. "What kind of therapy."
     "Different kinds of massage therapy." he said. "And the special diet."
     "Why do you need all these men for massage therapy?"
     "You will see when we have the therapy. You will disrobe now."
     Charles noted the lack of the "please" on the third demand to disrobe,
and knew he was about to lose his dignity here. He pulled the cotton shirt
off over his head (it had no buttons) and stepped out of the slippers,
pulled the string holding the cotton pants at his waist and they dropped to
his ankles, and he stepped out of them and up onto the table. It was a
massage table, padded and comfortable and warm to his bare skin. Yann
(Charles didn't know how to spell the name, he just had the phonetic sound
of it) and some of the men stepped up and Charles felt his body squirted
with warm oils from several directions.
     Multiple hands began to stroke his body, spreading the oil smoothly,
but there were two hands that were doing the real job. Yann. He had his
broad shoulders and thick biceps and ham-sized hands working on Charles'
shoulders and back. The massage was too rough to be that comfortable, but
his muscles did relinquish their tension and he found his pains and
discomfort from the train and carriage ride of the day, and the many days
of the office before that, evaporating like so much forgotten mist.
     Yann got up onto the table with him, and Charles found to his surprise
that Yann's body was as nude as his. He could feel the man's penis as a
warm finger of soft flesh on his upper buttocks and lower back. But the
man's rubbing actions were so intense that he decided the man didn't want
to get the oil on his clothing and he made no comment.
     Yann slipped further down and now the cock was fully on his
buttocks. He was working on Charles' back down, the upper and mid-back and
Charles now felt like soft putty in the big man's hands. The other men were
rubbing his arms, hands, legs and feet, but he only really felt that big
strong stud making his body feel like so much warm butter. He felt like he
could melt and slide right off that table.
     And that cock was now poking its head at his anus. Yann was at his low
back and he said, "Now we give you special massage." he said and he pressed
down on Charles' lower back hard, very hard. And as he did, he shoved his
cock at Charles' ass and his sphincter, to Charles' surprise, dilated and
allowed entry without so much as a quiver of complaint. All that warm oil,
the relaxed muscles, the pressure on his lower back, it all combined to
make the cock sliding in his ass feel like the most natural thing in the
world.
     "This is lower colon massage." Yann told him. "We massage you inside
now, you like it, you see." And Yann began to move back and forth, firm,
solid strokes that were definitely massaging his insides.
     And the men who had been around him now pressed their own cock against
his body, holding his arms out and his legs outward and he had cocks on his
shoulders, on his upper arms, one in each palm, more on his upper legs, his
lower legs, and two pressing on the soles of his feet. All of these cocks
were lubed with warm oil, they were hard as velvet-covered rocks, and they
were massaging his body with their cocks, and oh, God, that felt so good!
     "You like the massage, yes?" Yann asked him, a husky voice in his ear.
     "Yes, oh, oh, yes!" Charles murmured. "It all feels so good!"
     "You take special diet now."
     "Uh, uh, sure, sure!" Charles sighed. "Special diet."
     One of the men who had been rubbing his shoulder pulled away and
Charles saw the man's cock before his face, the hand pumping at it
furiously and then it was being shoved into his mouth.  The oil that was
used on his body wasn't at all unpleasant, he guessed it was a form of
olive oil or such, and his mouth accepted it as a lubricant for the prick
to be shoved deep inside of him.
     The man who had jammed it in him began to thrust at him with a frantic
need filled with grunts of impending climax. Charles only had to close his
mouth and hold on and the man did the rest, his moans rose quickly to a
crescendo and he squirted a hot load of jizz into Charles' mouth, far
enough down the throat to make swallowing it his only option.
     Charles bore up under it, gulping down the thick, sticky mixture (he
couldn't even taste it, the man's prong was so deep inside his mouth and
throat) and then the man withdrew. Charles gasped for breath and had taken
less than four or five of such when another man stepped up with his erect,
uncut dong and Charles was again stuffed with a prick to suck on. This man
allowed him to suckle at the man-meat and when he came, it was a slower,
more luxurious flow and this time Charles' tongue caught a huge load of
salty, flavorful man-jizz.
     Yann continued to fuck his ass, his pace slowly speeding up, as man
after man left off his "cock massage" of Charles' body and stepped up to
feed his cock to Charles. All of them lasted in his mouth only moments,
Charles was able to suck off all of the men who had been rubbing at
him. His bemused senses counted a dozen such before they were all done, he
had only remembered a bit more than half that many in the room when they'd
started. Had they brought in more men while he'd been relaxing under the
massage?
     Only Yann was left and he said, "You are relaxed now, yes? You have
plenty of special diet, yes?"
     "Yes, yes!" Charles murmured. His whole body was churning with
sensations like none he'd felt before. Sexual, yet somehow
less...defined. He'd always felt such only in his cock, but this was all
through his body without limit, running all through him.
     "That good, I give you more diet now." Yann said and his hips sped up
and then he thrust in deep and held it, and Charles felt the big stud's
load pumping into his bowels. He'd been loaded with hot man spunk, his
stomach was filled in a way his inadequate lunch hadn't given him, with
what had to be a cupful or more of sperm, and more was in his ass and he
had just been fucked by the biggest, hardest, manliest stud he'd ever seen!
His body surged into climax at the feel of the hot spunk being sprayed into
him and he squirted it onto the oil-slicked massage table.
     Yann was breathing hard when he finished, but he said, "Now massage is
finished. You rest a few minutes, then you dress and go to main
lobby. Intern is waiting for you there."
     He got off of Charles and Charles obeyed the instruction to lie where
he was. The big man dressed and then left. Charles lay there a bit longer,
then got to his feet, rubbed the oil not soaked into his body onto a towel
and then dressed, and went to the lobby where the intern was.
     "How did you enjoy your massage?" the intern grinned. Charles suddenly
realized that the man had been one of those who had gotten into line for a
blowjob after rubbing on Charles' lubed body.
     "I feel like a new man already." Charles agreed. "Now what?"
     "The swimming pool for more therapy," the intern told him, "and some
more lower colon massage." The man grinned. "It's an important part of your
therapy."
     "Bring it on." Charles told him. Two weeks of this and he'd return to
work, his body re-invigorated and his mind re-energized for certain. A
thousand a week for Dr. Mannbender's Sanitarium was turning out to be money
well spent, indeed!
                             THE END
               Comments, complaints or suggestions?
             E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                  WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM