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How the Bouncer Entertains Himself

Part 12

For Limemas

By Draconicon

The show from backstage was likely not as compelling as it was for Saul and his colleagues, but for Karlos, it was more than good enough. More, more, more than good enough.

The Komodo Dragon resisted the urge to shove his hand down his pants and stroke himself to the sight of the naked crocodile. It was one thing to see the big man naked for the first time in recent memory, perhaps ever; it was another thing to know that he was dancing, throbbing, twitching because of what he had done. Karlos had been waiting for the chance to see this man brought low, and now that the other bouncer was finally knocked down to his level...

Karlos was surprised to feel that it wasn't quite what he had wanted.

"Hmmph..."

He looked down at the remote in his free hand. He still had the crocodile at no more than a 25% vibration, but that was still enough to have his fellow bouncer shaking, his knees knocking even as he tried to keep himself together. From behind, it gave the Komodo Dragon a perfect view of that muscular rump, as well, seeing the cheeks clapping together, seeing the tremors of muscles trying to hold together when their owner just wanted to fall and cum.

He didn't understand. He'd been wanting the opportunity to go after Michael for so long. Ever since he'd started working here and gotten to know the other man - and had seen the way that he worked with his body rather than his mind, using his strength rather than his smarts to deal with problem customers - he had a problem with him. The crocodile had a problem with him, too; probably had been part of the reason that Lawrence had wanted that talk way back when that had led to the rabbit going to therapy.

But for all that he had wanted to get some revenge, to prove who was the better bouncer in the club, this...didn't reward him the way that he wanted it to.

Saul was all but on the stage with Michael now. He couldn't hear what the black bear was saying, but he could see what was happening. Slow, steady strokes up and down the crocodile's cock was leaving the bigger man shaking. All those muscles stood out in stark relief against his scales, and the sheer size of the other man was arousing in and of itself.

He shook his head; he wasn't even a bottom, and he would have been happy to tease the crocodile's cock from the sheer size of that meat. It would have been far hotter to have Michael dancing for him.

Saul slapped the crocodile's cock. Karlos didn't know what was going on, but one thing was for sure; the bear had to be kept entertained. If this 'apology' performance fell flat, then there was going to be a far worse problem between Lawrence and Victor, Saul's superior. He had to keep this running smoothly.

Hope you're ready for a surge, Michael, because this?

He flicked his thumb up to the control dial. That egg had never gone above 40% during their testing before the show, but they needed something big, and they needed it now to keep Saul from losing interest.

This is going to make you damn near slit-sexual for the next week...

Karlos took a deep breath and flicked the dial up. Way, way, way up.

#

Michael was on the verge of punching the black bear's lights out when the egg thrummed to life. He fell to his knees, cock bobbing up and down. It slapped against his belly, wet smacks filling the air as he gasped for breath and thrust his hips with abandon.

"NNNNNGH!"

"Well, what's this? A little bitch offering himself up? Show us, fuck-slut. Show us just how horny you are for this," Saul said.

The crocodile could barely think with the egg buzzing away right at the base of his cock. It was so far inside his slit that it was hitting things that he didn't even know he had. His cock was going mad, just enough pressure on the base to keep him from cumming while it spat pre-cum all over the stage. Smack, smack, smack went his shaft against his stomach, leaving pre-cum all over the place, making a musky mess of his stomach, and -

"I said, spread 'em."

The bear kicked his shins. Michael gritted his teeth, forcing his legs apart.

It was so hard, so fucking hard to swallow his dignity, but every pulse of pleasure from down below made it a little easier to focus on that, instead. The humiliation of showing himself off like this, being naked and hard for males instead of females, was hard enough. To do this, to be this horned up for people that he hated, was something else entirely. He tried to look away -

BUZZZZ!

He arched his back, almost falling flat on his back, but barely managed to catch himself as he threw his arms back at the last second. His cock spat pre-cum over the lip of the stage, landing with a wet smack on the tiled ground.

Phones were up all around him, taking pictures and video of him being tormented with pleasure, forced to show off, forced to do this for the sake of the fucking club. He could feel every damn click as if it was a new buzz down below, and as he lifted his hips again and again, all but thrusting in the air, they kept muttering, kept laughing, kept jerking each other off.

He was the star.

They were the customers.

They were getting off to him.

"Heh, that's what we wanted to see, meat." The bear loomed over him, gripping his jaw. "I thought that you were supposed to be some sort of big thug guard. What's it like down there, huh? You going to punch my lights out again?"

God, he wanted to do just that. He wanted to leap to his feet and crack his fist across the bear's face, send him flying back to the couch among all his 'friends.' Oh, the satisfaction from that would have been amazing, but if he went through with it, all he'd do was piss everyone off, and -

Another thrumming buzz, and he moaned as the bear shoved a finger past his lips. It pinned his tongue in place, and he tasted flesh, fur, sweat. Things that he didn't want to know the taste of, but he was made to learn regardless. He panted, huffing, his eyes half-open as Saul leaned over him. The bear's lips were turned up in a huge smile, his suit half-unbuttoned now.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You look like some of the performers down at Victor's place. Brain-dead, barely thinking, only thinking about cock and cum What's that boss of yours got you on?"

"Nnngh..."

"Oh, he has you on something, I bet. Something strong, considering what you were before I got you. But no worries. I'll figure it out. That's what Victor pays me the big bucks for. He makes me figure out his problems and how to fix them."

He was barely conscious at that point, his head rolling from side to side as the bear thrust a finger over his tongue again, and again, and again. Was he a toy at this point? Maybe, it was hard to tell. All he knew -

Buzzz.

Buzzz.

Buzzzzzzz.

"Hehe, come on. On your feet, muscle-slut."

The bear pulled him upright, and he didn't have much choice but to follow him up. His legs shook, but he managed to keep his footing. His head spun, everything so hot, so sensitive, so needy. His cock ached, pulsing, oozing, dribbling constantly. He was trying to move, trying to keep his balance, but if it wasn't for Saul holding him up from behind -

"Nnngh..."

A finger up his ass, now, a finger spreading his cheeks and pushing right inside. Lubed with his own pre-cum, too, he realized too late. He groaned and grunted, huffed and tried to pull himself free, only for the bear to slap a hand against his chest and pin him in place.

"Heh, don't you start fighting me now. I'm getting an apology here, remember? You gotta let me do whatever the fuck I want..."

Michael shivered as those words filtered through to his cock-drunk, pleasure-stupid brain. He couldn't think of a way to argue against that, and both Lawrence and Karlos had made it clear that this was his job on the line if he dared try and do something to get out of this. He had to just...just take it. Take it and try and make it work. That was all that he had to do, even if it was utterly humiliating. The crocodile could already feel that finger worming deeper and deeper past his pucker, going in and turning and -

He gasped as it pressed down on his prostate, grinding into him, forcing his cock to spit more, drool more, throb more. Every touch was more pleasure, more passion, more need running through him, and the crocodile's legs all but dropped out from under him as he sagged back. His ass was completely impaled on three fingers at once, his unpracticed hole sucking them up and stretching wide.

His breath was caught in his throat, and he could barely breathe.

"Hehe, you want it that bad, muscle slut?" Saul smirked. "Let's see how hard you can take it."

Michael was almost completely insensate as he was lowered down to the stage, his legs hanging off the side. He caught his breath as he was laid down again, but his legs were no longer working right. Dancing, swaying his ass, shaking his hips and bouncing his cock: those weren't options for him anymore. He was just...just...

His legs were pushed apart, and Saul loomed over him, rubbing his stomach and his abs with one large hand, the other down and between his legs. Three fingers still inside of him, three fingers still working back and forth, forcing their way in and out, loosening him up more and more with each passing second. Michael tried to say something, but the words died on his throat. Air...air was a precious commodity, and he couldn't waste it on speaking.

Throb.

Throb.

Throb.

Each pulse of pleasure from his prostate through his cock made it throb all the harder, slapping down against his belly and then jumping back up. Small rivers of pre-cum ran from it down his sides and then onto the stage, and his hole clenched, clenched, and clenched, over and over again, on those intruding, too-talented fingers.

Saul must have loved it; he was wiggling them back and forth, teasing him, forcing him to open up even more. All around the room, everyone had their cocks out, and they were jerking off hard. Stroking themselves, teasing themselves, the occasional word floating back to him about what they wanted to do to him, how they wanted to fuck the big crocodile and put him in his place.

He could only imagine that Karlos was thinking the same fucking thing.

#

Karlos, as it turned out, was not. If anything, the crocodile was weighing his options, studying the way that Saul was taking charge of things, and seeing what else could be done.

He can't get up again; we blew that option by pushing him too far, he thought, looking down at the remote. But there might be another way to get him satisfied.

"Karlos."

The Komodo Dragon looked over his shoulder. Lawrence had come around the back to join him. He shook his head at the brown-furred bunny, looking back through the curtains and keeping an eye on things.

"How b-bad?" the rabbit asked.

"Not great. He's been finger-fucked for at least five minutes now, probably about ready to pass out from everything going on," he admitted, shaking his head. "Fact that he's still conscious is kinda amazing. Bet you anything that he wishes he wasn't."

"Mmph..."

It wasn't the first time that Lawrence had seen guys on stage. There had been times when Karlos had used the strip club after hours and pre-hours for just that. Some of his victims were very good dancers, and he liked to put them to work showing off for him before they got around to having fun. The addicts could sometimes find themselves pulling off moves that laid them out for days afterward in order to earn his pleasure, but that was part of the show.

Or at least, it had been.

Now, as he watched Michael be used and abused, pushed to his absolute limits of stamina, it was getting harder to feel entirely good about some of the things that he used to do in the past. He glanced back at Lawrence, a hint of disgust on his lips before he looked away again. The rabbit had ordered this, but he was pretty damn sure that the boss hadn't realized just what he was asking for.

Nor had he realized what he'd given. Not entirely.

"He's going to get ass-fucked sooner or later," Karlos muttered.

"...I didn't...I was hoping -"

"Yeah, well, you weren't hoping too smart, were you?"

"Not a time...for this..."

"You're right about that. Time for decisions. You got an idea?"

Course the rabbit didn't. If there was a stupid question there, it was that. Karlos looked down at the remote again. He'd turned the egg up to 60% at one point, but now it was down to 35% again. There might be something there, but...

He glanced out from behind the curtain again. Michael gasped as one of the thugs pulled his cock from the crocodile's jaws, laughing and slapping it against his face. The constant throbbing made them think that the whole thing was consensual...probably.

Unless some of the stories he'd heard about their boss was true.

He thought about it. They were dealing with Victor, someone that had, at one point, made all kinds of deals with the mob and gotten a head start over all the other strip club owners in the area. The only one that had competed with him for any real length of time was this one, Lawrence, and they weren't getting by on volume. Victor had them beat there, had them beat with the sheer number of performers, and...

And how new they were.

They're probably used to drugged-out performers, he thought, shaking his head. Drugged and stupid and probably not paying that much attention in the grand scheme of things. So, they can just do what the fuck they like and not care about how asshole-ish they get.

Which would explain why they weren't asking questions. Karlos shook his head, pinching the bridge of his snout.

Okay, they're going to fuck him up. And they're going to fuck him up hard. The question is, how hard? And can I do anything about it?

The fact that he was trying to minimize some of Michael's suffering was not lost on him, nor was the feeling of annoyance that he was having to do it in the first place. He had hoped to see the big guy brought down a peg, but there was a point of bringing him down a bit and there was a point of knocking him right off the wall. This was the latter.

What can I do?

There was no way that Michael would be able to take getting ass-fucked. The only reason that he had managed getting finger-fucked at that point was the fact that he had been getting himself buzzed so hard that he couldn't think of anything else. The pleasure was probably so intense that he wasn't able to think straight. But anal hit somewhere different, would push him to realize what was happening.

So, that meant that he had to get fucked in a different way, right?

Probably was, the egg was in the way for a slit-fuck. There was no way that any of them could actually get in there, but...

He looked down at the remote again as Lawrence muttered and whined about what they should be doing. The Komodo Dragon made a mental calculation, considered the possible consequences, and decided to go for it.

He turned the dial up to 100%.

#

Michael was in a haze. Nothing made sense. Nothing was good. Nothing was right. He felt wrong, violated, horny, broken, and so much more.

Was it good?

Bad?

He didn't know. He couldn't think enough to know what in the fuck was going on. All he knew was that it was too much, and he was headed right for a breakdown if he didn't get out from between all the bears and other assholes that surrounded him.

Another cock forced itself past his lips, rubbing on his tongue. He didn't have the guts to bite it, but he did growl deep in his throat as he felt salty pre-cum getting rubbed into his tongue. His eyes rolled back as he felt the pleasure of that, the need to cum, the denial that the egg kept holding him at. His arms and legs were all but dead, barely able to twitch, let alone fight back. All he could do was lie there.

Saul smirked, pulling his fingers out of his ass. The crocodile could feel his hole gaping, could feel the raw sensitivity down there, and worse, he could feel the slight breath of air that meant that it was gaped far enough for the air conditioning to blow inside him. His face burned bright pink as he felt the humiliation creeping higher, and the bear slid down the stage to stand between his legs.

"I think it's time that we put you in your place, for good."

"..."

"Nothing to say?"

"..."

"Heh, I guess that's consent enough for me."

Michael wanted to scream. This wasn't - this wasn't - how was -

Buzzzzzzzzz_zzzzzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZ! _

The roar of the egg turning up was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear it, and for the first time in minutes, Michael was able to get something past his teeth. He screamed at the top of his lungs, arching his back, thrusting one, two, three times as the egg vibrated so hard that it felt like he could cum right then and there, that he would explode if he didn't, and -

POP!

"NGH!"

The egg popped out of him then and there. The hip thrusts must have loosened it, sending it flying out of his slit on its own momentum. It had missed Saul and hit one of the other bears further back, clocking him right between the eyes. As Michael gasped for breath, his eyes rolled back, his cock screaming for attention, Saul just stared at him...and then at his slit.

"Fucking hell, didn't think you were that kind of slut..."

The bear's fingers traced his slit, and even then, he could feel the gape there. The sheer stretch from the egg popping out so violently had wrecked him down there, leaving the formerly tight scales open wide, showing off the pink walls inside of his slit, the wetness around the base of his cock, and so much more.

A finger slid in, and he came on the spot. Michael screamed, his toes curling hard as he felt that finger barely slid in, but it was still enough to get him off. He painted his own face with the fury of that orgasm, gasping for air, shivering from head to toe as he kept cumming, cumming, cumming for nearly half a minute.

"...Oh, I know just where I'm fucking you, you little whore..."

Michael was still trying to get his breath back as that shaft traced a line from his asshole to his slit. It popped up over the lip, rubbing against the base of his cock. The crocodile managed to bring his head back down, his eyes focusing on that spot where the head of the bear's cock rubbed against the opening of his slit.

Oh no. Oh fuck. Oh -

He was so open that it went right in. One hard thrust, going right past the base of his cock and hitting him right there at the base of his dick, and he came again.

"NNNNNNNGH!"

"Hehehe, maybe you weren't all drugged up; maybe Lawrence is just lucky as shit to have someone like you on his staff," the bear said, grinding down until his cock was lodged as far as it could go into the crocodile's slit. "And you're going to take it right there, fucked hard, until I say I'm done with you."

There was no way to protest, no way to get enough air to complain. All he could do was stay there, legs spread, and -

"Nnngh! AH! AAAAGH!"

Each thrust was another climax. For the first minute, he was cumming, cumming, and cumming again. The sheer sensitivity deep down inside turned his orgasmic need into constant pleasure, and then to sensitivity...and then to absolute insanity.

Michael screamed, no longer aware of anything but that cock inside of his slit, no longer thinking of anything but the feeling of being utterly opened up, re-shaped, forced to take that cock and enjoy it. Over, and over, and over again, each time feeling it spreading him wide, each time feeling every detail of the bear's dick as it bottomed out inside of a hole that was never meant for two cocks, and each time...each time pulling out to do it again.

His balls ran dry in two minutes, and his body started to adjust, but only slightly. He might not have been cumming every thrust, but he was cumming every third, and there was no seed to be shooting any longer. Dry orgasms wracked him, and his breath ran out, leaving him without the ability to scream. All he could do was pant, pant and shake, pant and squirm, pant and squeeze down on the cock that was rutting him right into the stage.

The third minute came, and the bear started shaking. His thrusts were no longer so hard, no longer as deep. In, out, in, out - cum. In, out, in, out - cum. In, out, in, out -

"Take it, muscle-slut. Take it, take - NNNGH!"

The new flood came, irritating and soothing at the same time. It splattered deep inside of his sensitive slit, filling it with an ooze to replace all the moisture that the thrusting had dug out of him, but also so slimy, so wet, so...so much not him. He closed his eyes, gasping for breath as it just kept coming, flooding him out, almost making his cock feel like it was swimming in that mess.

Saul didn't say anything as he dragged his cock free. If anything, the bear just smirked, slapping him across the hip once before stepping back. To his great relief, none of the others stepped forward; nobody else came to fuck his slit, or to ruin him further. All they did was poke him, smirking, snapping pictures as they walked out of the room. One by one, they disappeared, and then there was no sound but the vibrating egg off in a corner of the room. Eventually, even that disappeared.

He was alone. He could barely breathe, and he focused on that. He tried to ignore the feeling of his cock slowly going soft, sucking itself slowly into his oversensitive slit. When it touched the slimy seed bubbling back up and out, he flinched, feeling it grow again, at least for a little, then it started to shrink once more.

It was a constant feeling of in and out, in and out, sliding back into him only to be stimulated just enough to start growing again. The crocodile huffed, trying to collect himself, trying to think of anything but his cock and the cum in his slit and all the other messes around him, but it was impossible. His life...his body...everything that he had been felt like it had been shattered to pieces.

I'm a...I'm a mess...

That was putting it mildly; his cock was barely able to shrink away, but even as it did, it was slinking into some other man's cum. It was sinking into a mess that might take all night to drain properly, and until he did, his dick would be marked with another man's scent, another man's seed, another man's...everything. Saul had taken everything from him.

He had never hated someone so much as he hated that bear right then, and he wasn't sure that he ever would hate anyone as much as he hated Saul.

As he laid there, slowly oozing more and more from his slit, feeling it creeping out in a bubbling mess towards his asshole, someone stepped out from behind the stage. Michael wanted to say something, but his voice was too far gone. There was no way in hell he was going to manage to get a word out right then. He just hoped -

"So."

Michael groaned, hoping that he was infusing the sound with as much anger and frustration and rage that a shouted 'YOU!' would have managed. He doubted it, though, and he grumbled as he felt the Komodo Dragon kneel down at his side. The stage flexed ever so slightly under the other man's boots, and the crocodile tried to turn his head. Not possible. Not yet. Too weak.

Don't you even start gloating, you asshole, he thought. Your fault that I'm fucking here. If it wasn't for your spit in my slit...

Oh, the things that he wanted to shout and throw back at the fucking short-stack of a bouncer. If he heard one word of gloating -

"How bad do you want me to hurt him?" Karlos asked.

Of all the things that Michael had expected to hear, that wasn't it. He slowly opened one eye, fixing it on the other bouncer. He didn't even have the energy to open his mouth; he had to settle for a confused grunt.

"I'm asking. How bad do you want me to hurt him?"

"...Mmmph..."

"A lot?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That's what I thought."

Karlos sat beside him, looking out the door. Michael didn't have a word for him, but the fact that he had been asked...

What's your game?

Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was just the fact that he had been beaten down as hard as he had been, but he couldn't think of what it could be. The whole thing felt...confusing, for lack of a better word. Karlos had never, not once, asked him what he wanted. The other man carried out his side of the business, Michael carried out the other side, and their best was just avoiding each other as much as possible.

To have him ask...

"Hmmph?"

"Don't get me wrong. Don't like you in the slightest," Karlos said, leaning back on one hand. "But that guy? That guy makes you look like a perfect Sunday date."

"Mmph."

"Heh, don't get it twisted. I'm not looking at you like that. Just thinking..." Karlos shook his head. "I'm going to have a talk with Lawrence. And I'm going to see what we can do about that little fucker."

"Hurt."

Michael coughed, barely able to get the word out. He swallowed, draining his mouth of what little spit was still in it to try and get another word out. Another two. No, three.

"Fuck...him...up..."

"...You know what, if you say that, I'll take it."

Michael nodded, closing his eye again. He was so tired. So fucking tired.

#

Karlos waved for a couple of iguanas to come out from behind the curtain once Michael passed out. The last thing that the big guy needed was another guy cleaning him up, and as much sympathy as he had for his fellow bouncer at that moment, he was not going to take that responsibility for himself. He shook his head as he got to his feet, letting them leave before looking over his shoulder again.

"I know you're still there," he said.

Lawrence stepped out from behind the curtain. The rabbit's ears were pulled tight behind his skull, his cock was throbbing hard, and yet, he looked like someone about to go straight into a panic attack. Karlos couldn't blame him; the show that they'd been witness to was a hell of a fucked-up thing.

"So, looks like they're going to be wanting a meeting with you again; Saul looked happy enough about the whole thing," he said, shaking his head as he tucked his hand into his pocket. "You know, that means that you're going to have to tell Victor something about what we just did."

"Y-yeah. I...I...know."

"Tell him that Michael's a slit-slut, and that we were experimenting with just how sensitive he was," he said, shaking his head as he hopped off the stage. "That should get him off the trail for now."

Lawrence nodded as the Komodo Dragon bent over. Karlos fumbled around, eventually finding the slime-coated egg under one of the booth seats. He stood up, shaking it off and sighing.

"You know, I never really wanted to fuck someone up for someone else before," he said, pocketing the egg. "Bit of a new experience, not gonna lie."

"You c-c-can't just -"

"You know..." Karlos shook his head. "Not sure I like that word, Lawrence."

"N-not...what...I mean."

The rabbit sounded a little more...focused, he supposed, than usual. He cocked his head to the side, looking back at the boss, and then took a second, harder look.

Lawrence looked angry.

It was a new look on the bunny, and certainly one that he had never been able to take seriously before, but this was real anger, verging on rage. Of course, coming from someone that was almost his height, a broken man, and someone that had been bent over a desk too many times sucking him off, he couldn't take it seriously, but it was there. Karlos looked out the door again, then back at the rabbit.

"...Heh. Ain't in the mood to make a deal, after all, are you?"

"Not...with...that."

"Well, ain't got a lot of other options, do we?" Karlos chuckled. "I mean, not a lot of nice options."

"He d-doesn't...p-p-play nice."

"Nope. Not from what I heard."

"Doesn't d-deserve...us d-doing...the same."

"...And here I worried that you finding a spine would mean me getting fucked over."

"Victor. You can...can...you...take...him...down?" Lawrence asked.

It was telling that the bunny stopped himself to take each word one by one. He wanted it to come through, no doubts, no questions asked. Nothing to obfuscate.

Karlos took a deep breath, putting both his hands in his pockets as he thought about it. Taking down one person was not that hard; he had done it to a priest, to a rich boy, to a prick of a manager, and to quite a few other people over the years. Getting them broken down and putting them in their place for a one-night stand and leaving them with a broken memory was surprisingly easy to do.

Of course, the hard part came when they had friends that didn't like what they'd become and wanted to get some revenge for that. Victor was pretty well-connected, and there was a lot of shit to deal with there.

But...

He had some motivation this time. And he had never gone all-out before.

"I think I can. If we plan it right. And...if you don't put me on a leash."

"Done."

The End

Summary: Michael's dance becomes something else in short order, and the crocodile gets put through the wringer.

Tags: M/M, Slit Sex, Egg in Cock Slit, Vibrator, Public Display, Bouncing POV, Orgasm, Cum, Edging, Fingering, Impending Sex, Dub-Con, Series, Bar, Club, Crocodile, Bear, Size Difference, Rabbit, Pre-Cum, Squirting Pre-Cum,