The king looked concerned. Is it true what the people were whispering and now his braver his advisers were saying, that since his reign the country was going to the dogs. It was true that he was now very old. But not senile. heavily he lifted himself up from the bed, and swung his spindly legs over the side. I feel his weight on me. I don’t belong in this picture. there has been a glitch in the multiverse. Just then, the King shits.
A beach. A pretty model. The smell of sunscreen. Beads of sweat trickling down between a pair of firm breast. What the fuck has this got to do with me?
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And God said that one day, I too, would find salvation. And then I should sit at his right hand. maybe he was mistaken, and he meant that I would feel “her right hand”.
The last thing I remember was the sight of a face, a pretty girls face, coming towards me. Then I glance up and see the open legs of another girl. I close my eyes to the sights, but my ears are assualted by the sounds of wet slurping, as both saliva and cunt jiuce rain down on me. Opening my eyes the tinyest bit, I can see fingers flashing in and out. Then there is a gasp and the girl cums and squirts at the same time. Great! So things do cum in threes.
I am woken by the sound of poeple shouting. “Go on, you can do it, don’t be shy” It is dark and hot in here and I instictively know that I am on a model. There is some pushing and I can feel her arse cheeks clenching. More shouted encouragement. Then an awful smell hits me. And something wet and heavy falls into me. The model lets out a groan.I can hear the poeple applauding. Fuck!
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Someone is crying. A model sits nearby, gently rocking herself, and I can see the tears streaming down her face. Both sadness and a certain desperation are written on her brow. And then I spy an open laptop, and on it a picture of her doing unspeakable things whilst wearing a diaper. Now I see the whole picture. her pain, or rather the pain of her shame, cheers me up. I find myself smiling. Such a rare thing!
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In the studio there is a wall clock.It just tells the time. There is no date shown. As I am unfolded to be placed on the model, I always find myself glancing up. And though I always tell myself that this will all be over before an hour has past, and even when I try to count off the passing seconds, time seems to deliberately slow down for me. This is how the time passes in hell when the torture begins.
I’ve heard it said by some scientist that the universe can be travelled via “wormholes” that act as some kind of rapid backdoor through time. I don’t really know what to believe, as all of my travels end in the same location. And as for black-holes, well, I only ever see 2 of them when I am working.
Mmmm…I can tell someone is eating Chinese food. The distant smell of wok and soy sauce. I try and remember. On opening my diaper, I spy a tiny peice of noodle that must of escaped during that last anal scene. A dark cloud of depression comes over me.
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I hear the photographer shout “Go”. My nerves are on edge. I can feel that the model is undoing my diaper sides and soon enough, the studio lamps are shining on me making me squint. Infront is the photographer with a video camera and at his side, his assistant. Looking up I am greeted by the sight of a pretty shaven cunt. Before I can collect either thoughts or breathe, a hot stream of piss rains down.
