Found and Lost

ENTRY 1

I’m not sure who will ever end up reading this, but I’ve decided to keep this journal for the purpose of… honestly, I don’t know. Evidence on the off chance I get rescued, and my captor can be prosecuted? Maintaining my own sanity? Staving off the boredom of nothing better to do most of the time?

My name is Art, short for Arthur. I’m writing this all down because I have become a prisoner to a woman with whom I had a brief fling a year or two before she gained her Sex Mage powers. And lucky me, she ended up being one of those Archmage freaks, the ones who don’t just block your orgasms and give you psychic handjobs, but who can do crazy shit like breathe fire and duplicate themselves and shapeshift. In her case, she gained the power to alter people’s size. Make herself a giantess or shrink down men. That’s what she did to me.

Let me back up. I met this girl, Beth, at a frat party, in college. I was twenty-one, she was barely eighteen. This was a year before Sex Magic ever appeared; this was well before every woman on earth gained the power to psychically control men’s bodies and minds through our dicks. I’m drunk and I’m horny, and I see this cute little piece of ass, timidly in the corner. I come on a little heavy, I guess. If I’m being honest, I don’t remember the night totally clearly. But I remember, Beth, she didn’t put up any sort of fight. I don’t think she was drunk at all. She was just painfully shy. Like, I’m hitting on her, and she’s just blushing and stuttering, and I dunno man, there’s just something about young, nervous virgins that just makes me want to bed them and break them in, ruin them for all other men, you know? That’s what my dumb-ass drunk self thought back then, anyway.

Reading this over, it seems like I raped her, doesn’t it? I know how this goes. Guy and girl meet at a party, they’re drunk, they sleep together, don’t remember what happened, but she regrets it, so she charges him with rape. Or he regrets it and doesn’t call her afterwards, and she gets ticked and charges him with rape as revenge.

Well, I didn’t rape her. I came on aggressive, but she never said no or pushed away my hands. She was just too shy to make the first moves. Once I got her into a room, she let me do whatever. She was crying out and moaning and letting me do anything I wanted. I like to imagine I plowed her for hours until she couldn’t take anymore, but I’m pretty sure I shot off in like five minutes and passed out. I blame the booze.

Anyway. I wake up the next morning. She’s still definitely a cutey, but not my usual lay, not by my sober standards anyway. I leave her at the frat house, still asleep. Somehow, she got my number off my phone, though, because she’s texting me the next day. I try to ignore her, but she figures out where my dorm room is and confronts me there. I’m afraid at first she’s gunna say she’s pregnant, but no, she just wanted to see me again.

Look, I felt a little bad, okay, nobody likes being the receiving end of a pump and dump, I get it. But this girl just wasn’t my type. We hung out a little bit, and she was just a complete bore. Talking about clothes and the dumb shit she posted on Facebook and whatever. I let her give me a couple handjobs, but she wasn’t even good at them. She didn’t let me fuck her again, saying she wanted to keep it special and “do it for real when the time is right” whatever the fuck that means.

After a week of this crap, I dump her. She’s real upset, but I just put my foot down and cold shoulder her until she takes a hint. After a couple weeks, she stops talking to me.

A year later, Sex Magic appears.

ENTRY 2

Was interrupted by her. Spent a day trapped in her sock, squeezed between her toes. My cock is so fucking hard its killing me and I’m still leaking pre-cum.

I’ll get to that, though. Let me get back to the backstory. So, I’m in my last year at college when Sex Magic appears. I luck out big time and manage to graduate the semester before the magic totally fucks over every college in the campus the following year.

I don’t luck out by having a girlfriend at the time who was a total cunt. She fucked good, though, sucked dick like no other woman I’d been with yet. Well, when she got her magic, she put me through the ringer. Didn’t let me cum, made me eat her out instead of fuck her, only touched me with her magic. I tried breaking it off after a month, she held onto me for another three, then dumped me when she finally got bored.

Another year and a half passes, during which time, I can’t keep a job to save my life. Thanks to Sex Magic, men can’t get anything done without at least a few women fucking around with them, stealing their secrets, manipulating them into doing things for them. I studied to be an accountant, ended up working part time retail jobs, only to keep being kicked off when female co-workers complained about my dirty thoughts and constant erections, or the fact that costumers keep trying to tease discounts out of me.

I end up having to move in with my older sister, which was only slightly less humiliating than moving back in with mom and dad would have been. My sister wants nothing to do with my sex life, and I don’t want her to either, but she lays down the law that I can’t even touch myself when I’m living with her. So, I’m still going months without any relief, and its driving me crazy, and making it that much harder to get a job, when there’s teasing and magic being flung every which way, and girls fucking with you for a laugh, and to get energy from your blue balls, or how the fuck ever that works.

Finally, I can’t stand it any more, and I take the last of my savings, and leave for another city, hoping to find a place not so rampant and crazy with horny girls. A tall order in a Sex Mage World.

So I drive one state over, and wouldn’t you know it, I’m applying for a part time position at a book store, when Beth comes up to me. She’s got the Magic, of course, and she said she sensed my cock as soon as I got into town. She says she’ll help me out, help me get back on my feet, if I help her out around the house some, as a form of rent. She says she’ll even fuck me just the way I like.

At this point, I’m broke, I haven’t cum in like eight months thanks to orgasm blocks and no-masturbation spells. I shouldn’t have agreed to it, but it’s not like saying no would have made a difference. She could have just taken me regardless. I’m pretty sure she would have.

ENTRY 3

Interrupted again. The other guys wanted to play cards and

Fuck it, let me finish the backstory.

We drive to her place. She’s guiding me along by using magic to tug on my cock as I drive, indicating when I should turn. I’m diamond-hard the whole trip, but she doesn’t start actually teasing me yet.

We get to her place, a little one-story house out past the suburbs, into the countryside. I’m not even fully out of the car when she uses her magic, floating me out of my seat and pulling me over to her. She strips me while I’m hanging in mid-air, right out on her driveway, and tosses my clothes into my car. I look around. There’s no other houses in sight, the sort of tree-lined country road where the nearest neighbor might be a mile away. No one is around to see her strip me, although I’m sure any woman within a couple miles could sense how hard my cock is.

She floats me inside, stripping herself as she goes, and starts working me over. She floats me up so my cock is at her head level, and starts sucking me, her mouth focusing on the first couple inches, while she uses both hands to stroke me. I’m so wired up, I try to cum almost immediately. She actually lets me! She busts my orgasm block and I shoot wad after wad of hot cum down her throat. She swallows every drop.

She then pulls back, but that’s when she grins at me all evil-like. The sucking and stroking sensations don’t stop as she sets them into looping tease spells. It quickly becomes post-orgasm torture! I’m writhing and crying out, thrashing in the air as if being held up by my hips by two invisible giant hands, while an invisible mouth and hands stroke me endlessly.

She just laughs and says I have a lot to make up for. Then she lowers me to the ground and fucks me, riding me for hours. The stroking and sucking sensations are still going the whole time, and post-orgasm torture builds to another hard climax. Except this time, she replaces the orgasm block, and instead I just edge. She rides me for nearly an hour, and I’m edging repeatedly, since the first cum wasn’t enough. But she says I only get one freebie. When she’s satisfied herself on my cock, she lifts off me, but I can still feel the sensation of her pussy as another looping tease spell.

She keeps me like that all night, adding new sensations as she touches me. Foot jobs, more handjobs, more sucking, more fucking. Layering together until my mind goes blank. At first I thought she was just being a bitch, getting revenge for me dumping her. But I guess she needed me to vent an excessive amount of blue ball energy, because when it all stops, she’s done that trick I mentioned before.

She’d shrunk me.

ENTRY 4

I wake up on what at first seems like a massive field of cloth, with cloth hills, almost mountains, off to both sides. It takes me some time to figure out I’m on Beth’s bed, with her pillows on one side, and the bunched up blankets on the other. I’m not sure exactly, but I guess I’m about two inches tall.

Beth is up and about, getting dressed. I shout up at her. My voice is high pitched and clearly too small to be heard normally, but I guess the magic lets her hear me. She comes over to the side of the bed. She’s dressed in a pants suit, like she must work at an office. I still don’t know what she actually does, but she stays on a pretty steady nine-to-five.

I ask her what the hell this is about. She says that, per her conditions, she’ll take care of me if I “do my part” around the house. Doing my part apparently just means being an energy battery for her, which means being her shrunken naked teased slave boy.

I try to argue with her, but she just smirks and I feel her aura wash over me, that crazy fucking thing women can do now, where they force your cock hard and make you so horny you’ll fuck anything to get off. I immediately try jerking off, but she won’t let me. Anti-masturbation spells. I can’t even hump the bed. She turns up the pressure until I’m writhing and crying, my cock and balls hurt so fucking much.

When the pressure finally fades, she’s gone, and I’m stuck on the bed. I spend the whole day up there, not sure how to get down, not sure I want to even if I could. Where the hell would I go when I’m shrunk down like this?

She comes back later that night, and I try talk to her again, convince her to let me go, turn me back to normal.

Well, she does turn me back to normal size, but she doesn’t let me go. Instead she fucks me, literally all night long, still not letting me cum, even as she drives me crazy with multiple sensations while she rides me. She’s screaming in orgasm all night, and I’m tied down by her magic, crying and thrashing, and there isn’t a thing I can do.

She stops when the sun comes up again, and she cleans up, heading off to work again. But not before shrinking me and leaving me on the bed once more.

The whole first week is like that. I can only guess the magic’s healing powers are keeping me from being hungry or being too tired. Or even needing to use the bathroom; I still don’t get that part. I swear she hasn’t slept all week, just fucks me instead.

ENTRY 5

I guess the honeymoon phase is over. She’s stopped fucking me every night, at least. She also told me that when I’m this small, I’m actually super tough. She demonstrates this by picking me up and throwing me across the room, slamming me into the wall, and letting me drop to the floor. It doesn’t even hurt. It knocks the wind out of me, but funny thing, I don’t really struggle to breathe after.

She then says she’s going to let me join the others.

Others? Yep. I’m not the only guy she’s kidnapped like this. There are six other men here, Steve, Ned, Fred, Jake, Eugene, and Sam. Let’s see, if I remember this right, Steve and Fred were one-night stands like me, Jake was a guy she dated for two weeks and dumped, Eugene was her High School crush who ignored her, Sam was the boy next door who used to jack off thinking about her, and Ned was a co-worker who used to smack her ass, compliment her tits, and make her fetch the coffee. They’re all a couple years older than me, except Sam, who’s eighteen. Poor guy. Apparently, she’s been picking up a new guy every month.

They’re like me, shrunken down and kept raging hard and blue balled. We all live in a couple of those old plastic Barbie playhouse things, the kind that hinge open to make a cut-away doll house. We use strung up shoelaces to reach the different levels, since the things tended not to have stairs between the levels. (You know, that seems like an odd structural oversight from this perspective.) She has us set up on a large white fold-out table in the middle of her dining room, with no chairs or anything around it to help us climb up or down it.

We all know there’s no point in trying to run away. Steve, Ned, and Fred tried making a shoe-lace rope to climb down, then tried to find a way to reach a phone. Running the whole length of the house, they never found one. She doesn’t have a landline, just her cell phone she keeps on her, and there’s no way they’d be able to reach it without her knowing what they were up to, since she can sense exactly where we are at all times. They debated trying to make it outside to flag down help, but even if they could find an exit, they realized they would be tiny people who could be easily killed by a wild animal or even just end up lost in the grass for days before ever finding another house.

ENTRY 6

Jesus, my cock hurts. It’s just hard, as hard as can be, all the fucking time, like I got priapism or something.

Actually, I should say, it doesn’t hurt as in just raw pain, although there is some of that. The pain is almost more psychological. It’s this unbearable pressure you feel, mentally as well as physically. My cock can only get so hard, but the mental pressure, that internal need, can keep going. It’s the pain of needing to be touched, needing to cum, needing sex so badly you want to stick in anything and everything, but since you can’t, you feel like you’re going to die from the need.

Except I don’t, I can’t, the magic won’t let me, so all I can do is wallow here, dying to be touched, my cock hard and my balls swollen tight, waiting for her to come back home and fuck me blind, except that itself is too much.

When she fucks me, when she just touches me, its too much sensation, dozens of different stimulations hitting me all at once, all distinct yet overlapping, too much for my nerves to process, but the magic forces me to. And every time I try to cum, I edge so hard I want to black out, but her power won’t let me.

Dying to be touched, dying when she touches me, its enough to drive me insane. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.

ENTRY 7

It’s been three weeks since I joined the other guys. I hate to say I’m getting used to it, but you sort of fall into a pattern, living like this. The trick to staying sane is keeping yourself occupied with hobbies. That’s kind of difficult, given our situation. Beth isn’t so cruel as to just lock us in a cell with nothing, at least.

She’s given us three basic Kindles with a thousand books between them all, which she usually remembers to keep charged. Unfortunately, a third of the books are cheesy as hell romance novels, another third are dorky young adult magical hero series, and the rest are a mix of boring classic literature, dumb mysteries, and tacky celebrity atuo-biographies. I was never much of a book reader anyway, and these have not endeared me to the practice.

She’s also left us with an old Gameboy Advance with about fifty games, most of which are terrible. She’s given us a small-sized pack of cards (which still feels like we’re playing with large posters). We have access to the TV via a remote control, but guess what, she doesn’t even have basic cable. We get the standard channels, which means crummy sitcoms, news and talk shows, and infomercials on the weekends.

Trying to operate all these devices at our size would probably be comical if it wasn’t part of daily life. For example the Gameboy is one of those compact clam shell versions. Even taking that into account, in order to use the buttons right, you have to kneel down and spread your arms as far as possible to hit them, which of course means craning your neck up to actually see the screen. It made most of the games impossible to play. Eventually, we got a system going where two of us would have to work in tandem, stepping on the buttons in synch to make the character move and jump properly. The sad part is, as goofy and impractical as this may seem, some of us have actually gotten really good at it. We even beat the original Super Mario Brothers this way. It’s amazing what you can get skilled at when you have nothing else to do for days on end.

Honestly, I’d be going fucking crazy with boredom if I wasn’t going crazy from my blue balls. Seriously, yesterday I found myself staring at a sticker of Barbie on the side of the playhouse, and I almost broke down in tears over how badly I needed, fucking NEEDED to fuck something. If I could, I would have started making out with the sticker while humping the damn wall.

Beth obliged me last night, but that just means my balls just ache even worse today.

PS: Oh, haha, I guess I should have mentioned, the other task I’ve been doing to stay sane. This journal! I asked Beth for some paper and a pen, and she gave me a little spiral bound notepad and a mechanical pencil. After some comical attempts to use the pencil directly, I eventually just snapped off some of the graphite and have been using that to write. Whoever finds this is probably going to need a magnifying glass to make sense of this. But who’s even going to read this archive?

ENTRY 8

Today was my Travel Day again.

Beth usually has one of us on her when she leaves for the day, be it for work or just running an errand. She will stick us in her sock and hold us between her toes, or stick us in her bra keeping us smashed between the cloth or her breast, or sometimes, she wear a tight pair of panties and keep us pressed against her pussy lips.

In any case, its absolute torture, all day. She keeps her skin charged so that touching her shoots pleasure sensations through our cocks like lightning down a rod. You can’t even catch your breath to scream. You’d be trashing if she didn’t freeze you in place. But thanks to one of us always being around, she’s charged with our energy 24/7. And I guess, as an Archmage, she can either shield us from being sensed by other women, or she’s sucking in every ounce of our lust energy or whatever, because not once has any woman ever called her out on it or tried to help us no matter how hard we try to mentally call out for help. At least, I really, really fucking hope that’s the reason, because otherwise, that means every other woman in town can sense us, and they aren’t doing a goddamned thing about it.

And if it is the latter case, then I can only hope that the reason they aren’t doing anything about it is because Beth is some kind of immensely important person of influence in town that everyone is too terrified to cross, or she’s so powerful even a mob of other women can’t stop so they don’t even try. That would still be terrible, but at least it wouldn’t mean that the other women in town are just perfectly fine with guys like us being used and abused like this. I don’t think I could bare it if it turned out all women were just plain evil by nature.

Anyway, she kept me in her bra today. Tucked in the nook between the bottom of her breast and her ribs. Hot, sweaty, roiling in magical sex torture, suffocating against her flesh. It’s a good thing we don’t need to breathe when she’s using spells on us.

ENTRY 9

A spider got on the table today. At our size, the thing seemed as large as a car. In hindsight, that was probably just due to the leg span; the actual body was probably only a bit longer than one of us was tall. I have never in my life felt more terrified. I actually completely forgot all my horniness; if it wasn’t for the magic, my dick would have shriveled so far back it would have gone inside me, and I would have shit all over the table.

I never used to be arachnophobic, but I can totally see why people are. The things are goddamned monsters. I suppose all bugs are, really. We just don’t notice because they’re tiny, and most aren’t a threat the way something like a shark or bear are.

It was the hunter type. Not a jumper, thankfully. A wolf spider. I think it was only half the size it could have been. The thing snatched up Ned and bit him before we even knew it was there.

Guess what? It turns out the magic has made us so goddamned tough that spiders can’t hurt us at our size. It had Ned pinned, but the fangs didn’t penetrate. Sam was the first to attack it. The rest of us had frozen in place or started running, but when we saw Sam jump on the thing and start punching it, something inside us snapped. Something primal. Something fierce. Something male.

It almost got away, but we managed to swarm it. Unlike the women, we didn’t get a strength boost from the magic, and we were only as strong as our size, but our enhanced durability let us exert ourselves farther than we had been able to before. We beat the creature to death with our bare hands, roaring like mad men as we broke its exoskeleton and ripped its legs off and gauged out its eyes with its own fangs. All of our frustration, our helplessness, all of our emasculation, burned away for that minute or two where we were powerful, savage warriors defeating a mighty beast. If that thing had had a more typical looking heart, I’m sure one of us would have held it to the sky in victory and probably bitten a chunk off.

When our little blood orgy was over, we looked at each other. Naked, covered in bug gore, gasping for breath mostly just from the adrenalin. Some of us were grinning. I probably was too. I had this strong urge to build a bonfire and start dancing around it while guzzling some kind of hard booze.

Instead, as the adrenalin cooled, self-awareness returned. We looked at our surroundings and our collective gaze settled on the giant toys we currently used as a hodgepodge apartment. The sight of the pink, girly, plastic houses was like a sobering monolith reminding us of our place. Just a literal handful of helpless, hard dicks, to be played with and used by a crazy woman, who could casually destroy us with her magical pussy powers. Our moment of masculinity dashed, we all just walked away from each other, wiping the bug bits off, and waited for her to come back home.

That night, Beth let us all return to normal size, so we could shower, then had us kneel in circle around her in the living room. She made us all feel the mother of all blowjobs, several times over, using phantom mouths to suck us for hours as she hovered in the air above us. She masturbated before us, climaxing hard, her every orgasm sending a shockwave of pleasure that edged us so hard we were seeing stars. And then, when it felt like we were about to die from so much sensation overload, she let us cum!

I can’t even describe the sensation of relief. It seemed to go on forever, although it was probably less than a minute. She even let us fall unconscious when she was done. It was like she was congratulating us, apologizing to us, and yet also reaffirming her dominance all at once.

We woke up the next morning, shrunk again, and back in our various designated rooms in the doll houses. The spider mess had been cleaned up, and we were back on the old routine. Beth took Steve to work with her, and slept with Eugene that night. It only took a week for my balls to back to the unbearable blue I’d almost gotten used to.

ENTRY 10

I’d been giving the spider incident a lot of thought the whole week, between bouts of almost crying from how badly my nuts ached, and desperately trying to distract myself with the Gameboy and Kindles. I brought up the idea to the other guys that maybe what we really needed to stay sane was some kind of physical activity. Something masculine. Guys enjoy life by doing things, you know? Being creative, or productive, or competitive, or adventurous. We needed some kind of goal to work towards, some kind of project to complete. We were languishing so badly because all we had to do all day was be couch potatoes with crummy entertainment to distract us. Even the video games didn’t provide much reasonable challenge. We needed something to actually do.

I pointed to my journal as an example. It wasn’t much, but it was something I could, at the end of the day, say I’d made. Fred said maybe he could write some short stories; I shared some paper and one of the graphite sticks with him. But even he admitted he wanted something more directed, more physical to do.

I suggested that maybe we start something like a fight club. Get the aggression out. Given how tough we were, its not like we’d really be able to hurt each other that much. Steve and Ned didn’t much care for the idea, they weren’t the violent types. Plus, they said, Beth really didn’t like it when the guys fought.

That’s when I found out I wasn’t the seventh member of this group. I was the eighth. There used to be this real tough biker dude with the group named Alphonse. He was the sixth guy to get taken. Apparently, he either raped or beat up a friend of Beths (no one’s quite sure), and she took him in revenge. He was a real problem, though, constantly picking fights with the other guys, beating them up (in as much as he could), breaking the things Beth gave them (usually by throwing them off the table), cussing Beth out every time she came home no matter how badly she punished him. Ned was convinced that if it weren’t for the magic preventing self-pleasure, he might have tried raping them.

Eventually Beth got rid of him. No one’s certain what became of him.

Since then, even when they get pissed at each other, the guys don’t physically fight each other. If they ever got violent, she punished them severely. I don’t even want to know what counts as “severely” by these standards.

Well, I don’t know what else to do. At this point, I’m willing to beg Beth to give me a day each week to be normal size just so I can clean the house. She already does that herself on weekends, but it would at least give me a task to accomplish.

ENTRY 11

Been a while. A month, in fact, since the last entry.

I don’t know what else there is to say. It’s the same story, every day. God help me, I’ve gotten used to it. I can’t remember what it was like to not have an aching cock and balls. She lets each of us cum about once every two to three months, but the relief never lasts long enough.

I’ve read all the books in two Kindles. I’ve beaten half the games by myself (I figured out you can sort of crab-stand on the buttons so you can use your arms and legs on them and more easily watch the screen). I can’t stand the television.

I’ve actually started jumping off the table to go explore the house, and climb back up with a shoe-lace knot ladder we’ve put together. There’s not much to explore, though. The place only has five rooms: a bathroom, a kitchen, the dining room, the living room, and the bedroom. Very efficient. I thought maybe I might draw up a map or something, but I can’t be bothered.

I might just give this notepad to Fred. I don’t know what else there is for me to write.

ENTRY 12

I actually completely forgot about this journal I’ve been keeping. I would have probably never touched it again, except this week, something different than the usual routine of “languish for days, get fucked for a night, languish, get used as a portable lust battery for a day, languish for days, repeat.”

I found out where Alphonse is. That tough-ass bicker guy I mentioned a few Entries back. He’s inside of Beth. All this time, since he disappeared, he’s been trapped in the depths of her pussy. She keeps him pressed against the deepest part of her, his penis is actually stuck in the entrance to her cervix. When she’s fucking us, our cocks are pounding against his ass. At this point, I’m too numb to all this Sex Magic craziness to even feel that weirded out about it, but just a few years ago, I would have been throwing up in my mouth at the thought.

You’re probably wondering how I found this out. Well, it turns out this is her “severe” punishment for when we act out. After six months here, I was going absolutely out of my mind from the boredom and the constant torture. This must be what prison feels like, if you’re never let out of your cell and the guards are pounding your testicles with cattleprods ever ten minutes. We don’t even really get to sleep to pass the time or escape the torment, our cocks won’t let us rest, and the magic refreshes us enough to never be exhausted enough to just pass out. And our jailor will not hear us out, no matter how much we beg to her to give a day, one fucking day out of the month, even, to grow back to normal size and, shit, just take a walk outside. Even if she has to be right there next to us to make sure we don’t try to escape, not that we could escape from her magic, it would at least be something.

I didn’t really plan it. I wasn’t really trying to rebel or make a statement or anything. I just lost it. I had watched what felt like the ten thousandth rerun of a Jerry Springer episode, and when they got to the part where one of the guests throws a chair, I just turned to Frank and punched him in the face, as hard as I could. We were all sitting near the edge of the table, and I sent him flying off the edge.

Oh, yeah, there’s a Frank with us now. Nice guy. Used to be a fisherman. I don’t even remember Beth’s reason for kidnapping him.

Anyway, Ned and Steve try to restrain me, but they’re so broken down by Beth’s treatment, they don’t even know how to stand up straight anymore. I punch Ned hard enough to send him flying then just grab Steve by his arm and throw him, tripping him up. I throw him hard enough that he skids and joins Frank off the side of the table.

I’m fuming, and it takes Jake, Eugene, and Sam dog piling me to restrain me. I keep trying to fight them, but Ned comes back and between the four of them, each grabbing a limb, they throw me off the side as well, off the opposite side of the table. By this point, Frank and Steve manage to hide themselves. The other four drop a shoelace rope ladder down and haul the two up, yanking it up and out of my reach before I can get to it.

When Beth comes home a few hours later, she sees me on the floor, reads my mind to find out what happens. She gives me a dark look that would make any man piss themselves even if she didn’t have the magic. With a thought, shoots a pleasure spike through me so intense my heart stops and my vision goes white. I don’t die from it, but I know for a fact my whole body ceased functioning for a second.

I come to inside something pitch dark, hot, slimy, tight, and reeking of pussy. Pleasure is shooting through every nerve in my body at such intensity I can barely form a coherent thought. The flesh (somehow I know its flesh) burns me with its touch, every surface of my skin feeling electrified, all that sensation funneling into my cock, which hurts so bad, so fucking bad. There is a thunderous sound, like a pulse, rattling my skull, and my cock is jerking in time to its beat. When my cock touches the flesh directly, I feel my heart stop and my vision flash, and its all I can do to force myself to crawl, slip really, on my hands and knees, forcing a space between the flesh and my genitals. If my cock touches that wall of flesh for more than a second, I feel like I really will die from the sensation overload, no matter how powerful the healing effects of the magic.

With a Herculean effort, I manage to slip around in the tight, oppressive sheath of flesh, unsure of where to go, stopping every few minutes when I slip and my cock taps the surface of the flesh wall. If I ever manage to sleep again, nightmares memories of this place are going to keep me from ever getting a good nights rest again.

Then I bump into something else. It also feels like slippery flesh, but not the inner skin of a woman’s sex. The outer skin of a person’s back. Somehow, through my haze, I manage to make out a body, a male body, pressed against a firmer section of flesh. I try to talk, but I have no breath to cry out, much less form words. I can’t even form the thoughts to make words.

I end up huddling against this form, my cock pressed against this other man’s back. It’s the one piece of flesh in here that doesn’t almost kill me from contact. I shiver and buck and cry and can think only mad thoughts.

That was a week ago. I still don’t remember the details too well, so some of this may be me filling in the gaps. The others told me she put me inside her pussy for only an hour. I was comatose for three days afterwards.

She’d punished Eugene and Ned that way before as well. They say I recovered quicker than them. I asked them about the other man, and they said they didn’t remember ever encountering him. They’d managed to crawl the opposite way and tried to escape her pussy, only to be held right at the edge of her lips, taunted with freedom as they were forced to endure her punishment.

I only know its Alphonse because I asked her when she took me to bed last night. She said yes. When she finished with me that night, she then let me cum inside her, and told me that Alphonse was drowning in my cum.

I didn’t know what to say to that. Neither did the other guys. This woman is a fucking psycho, and we’re going to be trapped with her forever.

ENTRY 13

So. Um. This is really fucking awkward. It’s been eight years since I started this journal. Eight. That’s how long Goddess held us. No, not Goddess. Beth. We started calling her Goddess because she started insisting. By then, there were thirty of us, and she’d moved into a bigger house, and turned a whole room into an apartment complex of dolhouses. Like, actual dollhouses handmade by a craftsman. A craftsman whom she shrank and kept as a slave for his trouble once he’d finished building the room.

We called her Goddess, and at some point, we actually forgot her name. We forgot our own names. We lost interest in almost everything, lived like naked little monks, serving her or praying to her. A month ago, if you had handed me these pages, I wouldn’t have even recognized that I wrote them. It’s taken two weeks of psychic therapy to dredge up the memory of being anything other than a loyal servant to my Goddesss. The years are just a blur. I’m kind of amazed this journal even lasted, but Ned kept the notebook, even after he stopped writing. He handed my pages to me a couple days ago.

Hospital. So, yeah. I don’t know why I’m bothering, but I guess writing this final Entry could be considered my last act of closure on this insane situation I got trapped in. I’ve re-written everything on my new laptop. Maybe I’ll post it somewhere. If so, I’m sure you’ll want to know what happened.

Goddess—damn it, I keep doing it. It’s hard to think of her as anything else. Beth. A month ago, Beth died. A lot of people died. They called it the Cascade Event. Some kind of global storm of Sex Magic. Those of us who survived were saved by special women who now rule most of the world. The Megami they call themselves. Goddesses. Far stronger than Beth ever was. They’ve been gathering survivors from outlier towns and bringing them into their country. One of their patrols found us, Beth’s slaves. For whatever reason, maybe because we were so isolated, we survived the Cascade. Beth, and whoever she had on her at the time, did not. We think she was in the city when the Cascade happened, and that’s where most of the losses occurred.

We woke up in a hospital, still brainwashed into utter devotion to Beth. We were among thousands who were undergoing psychic recovery by Sex Mage doctors trying to mitigate some of the trauma of the Cascade. It took them by surprise when they realized our situation. We got special treatment. Like I said, it took weeks. But here I am again.

I’m living in the “Montana Queendom” now. The women here actually seem sane. Other than a pretty harmless tease prank here or there, most don’t bother me. I even managed to hold down a job as a janitor for a whole week without being harassed out of the position. It’s kind of unbelievable.

It’s also kind of scary. They may have restored my old self, but they didn’t erase the memories fo being in Beth’s house. The details are hazy, only because the time with her was so simple, so pure. You didn’t worry about anything, you were taken care of, and all you had to do was worship and please her.

I know I should be made. Should be furious that I lost eight years of my life. But I can’t help it. I still think of Beth, of Goddess, every night and I get so fucking hard. I can’t sleep until I’ve masturbated to thoughts of her. I call her name as I edge myself, imagining she will punish me harshly for touching myself. I imagine her putting me inside her, crushing my soul with her divine pleasure, and that’s as far as I can get before I just explode all over myself. And then I feel a deep, terrible shame for having cum without her permission, and its somehow worse than the ache of blue balls.

I have it good now. I have a job, my own place, the women here are sane, I’m free to do whatever I want. But sometimes, all I want is to just get on my knees and pray to Goddess, and throb for her. Its so fucking stupid of me, but I just feel this hollowness inside without Goddess to look up to. Or at least some woman. There are plenty of women in town, but, honestly, they’re just too nice and pleasant. I’ve slept with a few, and even when they use their powers, it just isn’t the same. They show mercy. The sex doesn’t last for days on end. They don’t make me worship them.

Fuck. Even with my mind restored, she’s still burned into my psyche. She’s gone now, but surely there are plenty of women like her out in the world. Eight years ago, I would have killed to be in a place like this, but now, maybe I’m in the wrong Queendom. I hear that to the east and to the west, there are Queendoms where the women are a lot meaner, a lot crueler. And Goddess help me, the thought of a whole country of women like Beth makes me so hard it hurts. And I want it to hurt more.

I’m going to do it. I’m going to try moving to one of those other Queendoms. If I never update this journal from here, I guess it means I’ll have succeeded.