entering-service

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Subject: Hunters and Hunted: Entering Service (celebrity, scifi fantasy) Hunters and Hunted Entering Service By Evan Andrews 2020 This is a fan fiction. “Entering Service” is the second part of a larger cycle of stories, The Hunters and Hunted series, and comes after “Vampire Communion”. Despite similarities in names and relationships the story is set in neither the Supernatural-verse nor the True Blood-verse nor the Buffy-verse. Those faces were just the ones I had in mind as I wrote. This story should not be considered a true representation of the sexuality of either the actors or the characters they play. The story depicts males in sexual situations with other males. If this offends you, if you are underage, or if reading such is illegal where you are please stop reading now. Thank you. If you enjoy this story, or even if you hate it, please contribute to keeping Nifty going at fty/donate.html @@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@ The monster was dead, its victims freed, and Sam and Dean had retreated to their typical cheap room in an even cheaper motel outside some five-dog Midwestern town. It might not have been home home, but it was as much of home as they were likely to get. When you were a hunter, it was just part of the territory. “Shit,” Dean said as Sam fiddled with the lock, “That was… I mean, I never in my life…” Sam opened the door and said over his shoulder, “The books called it a penis flytrap. What were you expecting to find?” “I don’t know, maybe just one of them, and, you know, above ground. I didn’t expect to find a den of the damn things. And all those guys with their johnsons caught in the pods being milked for their cum. It was freaky. You sure they all walked in there willingly, on their own?” “That’s how the flytraps hunt. They release a pheromone, and men just follow it on in like they were hypnotized. Like Bugs Bunny and carrots. Then they trap the men against the walls where they stick tight in the sticky sap; and they strip them; and… well, you saw.” “Yeah, I saw. It’s still not right.” “Then it’s good we burned out the nest.” The brothers looked around the cabin. A room in the main block would have been cheaper, but they needed to let off steam without worrying about bothering the whoever next door. Two double beds, table and microwave, fridge, and bathroom straight out of the 50s. “Do these places all look alike to you?” Sam said as light from distant the neon sign flashed through the open window. “They probably ordered a kit from Sears back in the day,” Dean laughed, “What? Are you too good for this anymore? I mean, it’s not like we can afford anyplace swankier. There’s TV with the best porn channels; the beds work; there are enough towels; and, hey, even magic fingers. And I snagged the menu for a local pizza place from the office. It’s your turn to buy, by the way.” That said, Dean walked into the bathroom. Sam heard the shower go on before he picked up the room phone. He dialed for the outside line (they must be in the middle of nowhere�where else did you still dial for an outside line?) and put in the call to the pizza joint. “That’s right,” he said to the bored voice on the other end of the line, “Two mediums. Two dead animals and fungus. One with onions, and no anchovies anywhere. What? A half hour. Fine. I’m at the Motel Notel on Route 2, cabin 5. Thanks.” “Half hour,” he said to Dean when he finally hauled his ass out of the shower. Dean checked his watch and turned on the TV. “Okay, but every five minutes they’re late you should take a dollar off the tip.” Despite Dean’s misgivings, the pizza arrived in 25 minutes, and Sam happily gave the redheaded delivery guy a generous tip. “Here it is,” he said handing the box without onions to Dean and settling down on his own bed, “You have a beer?” “The pope wear a funny hat?” Dean answered, and he tossed a can to his brother, “Pizza smells good. I hope you didn’t ask for anchovies.” “Not after last time, no I didn’t.” They opened the boxes, and the gas traps went off. “Dean!” Sam managed to gasp before falling back onto the mattress. “Sammy!” Dean cried, and then he joined his brother in unconsciousness. @@@@@@@@@@ How much later he never knew, Dean slowly crawled up out of his stupor. He tried to roll over, but he couldn’t. There were cuffs on his wrists, and those were chained to the corners of the bed. Same thing for his feet. Fuck, he was spread-eagled. And he was blindfolded. And he was fucking naked! “Sammy, are you there?” Dean said, his voice gravelly and a little unsteady. He heard a moan that sounded like his brother. “Dean? My brain hurts, and I can’t see.” “Me neither,” Dean said, “Blindfolds. Can you move?” The bed creaked, then Sam said, “No. I’m strapped down. And, Dean, I think I’m naked! What’s going on?!” The boys struggled against their bonds for a little time, but whoever’d trussed them up knew what they were doing. Then a man said, “Oz, you can go ahead and take off bursa yabancı escort their blindfolds.” A hand pulled the blindfold up over Dean’s head, and when he could see, the hunter glanced around the room. The first thing he saw was the redheaded pizza guy stepping towards the foot of his bed. Sam was on the other bed, definitely naked, and trussed up just as professionally as Dean himself was. The worried look on his face was reasonable. “Okay,” Dean growled, “What the fuck is going on?!” He raised his head and saw the redhead had stopped beside two handsome men who were sitting on the cheap chairs that went with the table. One was blond and severe; the other had a boy-next-door sort of handsomeness. Both of them looked oddly familiar, though Dean was certain he’d never met either of them before. “Who the fuck are you?!” “We’re the people who’ve been watching you for a while now, Dean, and I don’t mean tonight,” the blond guy said, “But we’ve always stayed just far enough away that we didn’t trip any alarm bells in your heads. We’ve decided it’s time at last to bring you into the fold.” The blond’s voice sounded familiar too. “Fold? Whaddaya you mean fold?” Dean demanded. “I think it’ll easier to show you.” “Oz,” the boy-next-door guy, also sounding familiar, said to the redhead, “If you would…” Oz, the redhead, grinning, came to kneel between the two brothers. He fished out a bottle of lube from under Dean’s bed, lubed up his hands, and grabbed hold of their flaccid cocks. “Hey, not cool, dude!” Dean barked, “Get your fucking hands off my junk!” Oz gave Dean a wicked smile and kept on, silently teasing the man’s cockhead, and especially the sensitive corona and the frenulum. Dean watched in horror as his cock took on a life of its own and started to fill out. The fuck? He liked girls, not gay bondage fantasy shit, but apparently Little Dean had other ideas today. Why not? The guy knew what he was doing. And Dean was starting to agree with his dick, at least where hand jobs were concerned. “Stop,” Dean moaned as Oz’s hand squelched on at his task, “It’s too… oh fuck.” His cock achieved full rigidity in the redhead’s learned grasp, and he could smell the subtle salty tang of his precum. Worse yet, he realized he really was liking it. Geesh, he hoped Sam… but a quick glance at his brother showed that he was in same predicament, his hard dick also being masterfully masturbated. Fucking ambidextrous bastard. “Oh, God,” Sam moaned, his eyes closed, and he writhed as Oz rang a finger around his corona, “Fuck!” “Sammy, fight it!” Dean cried, but mere moments later he too was writhing under the redhead’s expert ministrations. “Oh God, so good!” Dean sighed, “So good. Don’t stop!” Oz brought the brothers close to a screaming orgasm before backing off. And his did this time and time again. If their cabin hadn’t been at the far end of the motel, away from everybody else, and if it hadn’t been a weekday night, the boys’ yelling might have brought company to investigate, or raised an audience at least. Oz’s teasing was hell, but such sweet hell. Once both brothers were primed and completely at the mercy of the redhead’s talented hands, the two seated men came to their feet. They walked to the foot of the beds: the blond to Dean’s bed and the boy-next-door at Sam’s. “Look at us,” the blond said. Sam and Dean forced their eyes open and stared. And after that they couldn’t tear their eyes away. The two men began to shed their clothes, and Sam’s mouth actually fell open in astonishment when the boy-next-door’s body was fully revealed. And the blond was no slouch in the body department either. The two men stroked their own partially hard cocks to full erection while their captive audience drooled. Oz’s jack off session would have hypnotized a regular guy, but the scent of the naked men’s precum finally closed a circuit in Sam’s mind. Sam gasped and whispered in awe, “Adsum, Domine!” A second later, Dean also whispered, “Adsum!” These were the men from their dreams. Eric, the blond, and Jason, the pretty one. Or had those really been dreams? Could it be that all the cocksucking, all the getting fucked up the ass, all the incredible orgasms — had that really happened? Dean’s head was spinning with confusion. “You have not come to beg our favor tonight, yet we bring it you nevertheless,” Eric said. Sam and Dean watched in awe as the naked men climbed up onto the beds and crawled up to straddle the boys with a knee on either side of their chests. “Suck it,” Jason said, taking his cock in hand and pointing it at Sam’s face, “Taste of thy redemption and thy translation.” Sam, seemingly oblivious to the change in the liturgy and ritual, opened his mouth and let the head slide in over his tongue. He let his lips close and form a seal as Jason began to gently fuck his mouth. “Sam!” Dean cried. “Relax,” Eric said in a comforting voice, “It’s not like bursa sınırsız escort it’s the first time he’s sucked that cock.” Dean gulped. “And it won’t be the first time you’ve sucked this one,” Eric said, “Worship my dick, Dean. Show me how much you love your master.” It was the eyes, Dean thought. He was held spellbound by the piercing eyes. He felt his mouth open and Eric’s hard shaft slide in. As he began to suck, Dean wondered if it could really be true what Eric had said? No, it couldn’t be. Dean had more than enough evidence he liked girls, same for Sammy, and yet the feel of the shaft was familiar in his mouth. Familiar, right, even comforting. Dean wanted, oh God, no, he needed to please this man. Dean relaxed his throat and let Eric proceed to fuck his throat, not just his mouth. Eric grunted with satisfied pleasure as he took advantage of Dean’s submission. The boys could only stare in wonder as their mouths worshipped the masters’ hard dicks, doing what they could to please these men as if it was a duty. While they sucked, Oz used the lube and precum from their shafts to lube up their assholes. He teased the tense muscles with his fingers before pushing past the guardians and starting to fully fingerfucking the pair. Still sucking, the brothers wriggled on Oz’s fingers. They had long since given up fighting what was happening to them. It was as if they knew deep inside them that the stimulation was a reward for their cocksucking and were eager to make the most of it, fucking Oz’s fingers back trying to get him to hit their sweet spots. Sam and Dean were full participants in their violation when Eric and Jason pulled out. Wait, that was wrong. Weren’t the masters supposed to cum in their servants’ mouths? That had been the ritual up to now. As the brothers watched dumbfounded, Eric and Jason slid back to kneel between muscular spread legs. They released the brothers’ feet and spread their legs further wide before adding their fingers to those Oz was already using to pry open their asses. Sam and Dean, groaning, accepted the gift of the finger-fucking, hoping that the masters would get around to the main show soon. They needed those cocks inside them When Eric and Jason were satisfied the brothers’ holes were ready for the next step, they took aim with their proud shafts. “Fiat, fiat, fiat voluntas mea,” the two intoned in unison and then plunged their cocks into the ready holes. Oh yeah!” Sam moaned as he felt Jason breech him, fill him, and bottom out. “Fuck!” cried Dean as Eric did his ass the same service. Eric and Jason fucked their moaning boys gently for a while. The brothers’ heads fell back and rolled from side to side. The sensation of rigid fuck-meat riding over sensitive zones they never thought about outside of their dreams now hammered into their brains. The rhythm established itself, and they groaned in time to it. “Ugh. Fuck! Ugh. Oh god!. Ugh. Yeah!” The vampires, for such they were, watched as first acceptance and then submission of body and soul became manifest. This was where they wanted their prey. Willing and eager. Leaning back on their hands, they began to thrust up, pushing the boy’s pelvises into the air. Sam and Dean’s cocks swung back and forth, sending streamers of drooling precum left and right. “Fuck me, master!” Sam begged. “Fuck me hard!” Dean echoed the sentiments, doing his best to grind back on Eric’s shaft. Eric smiled. Sam may have been the first to submit, but this one, Dean, was the first one to push beyond simple submission and become an active participant in his translation. Yes, they had chosen well and moved at exactly the right time. “Fuck you, Dean?” Eric said, “Absolutely.” Eric pushed Dean’s legs up over his chest and, covering him, began to drive deep into the hunter’s guts. Jason followed suit with Sam, and both were soon power-fucking the brothers. Vampire eyes held mortal eyes, staring into their souls. “Take your master’s gift,” Jason huffed as he pounded Sam’s guts to gravy. Cries filled the cabin as hard dick pushed Sam and Dean into a different mindset. It was as if as the vampires’ cocks forced their insides into a new configuration, something else was drilling a new mindset into their psyches, shouldering their free will aside, and making itself at home. “Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! Master, take me! Please, make me cum!” It was unclear, and immaterial, which brother had spoken or if both had. The vampires could tell their boys were on the edge of shooting, and they buried their faces in the boys’ throats as they slipped over the edge. “Fuuuuuuuck cumming!” Dean screamed. Sam was less articulate but equally emphatic. As the sap ran up the brothers’ dicks and their shafts began to pulse out their seed, the vampires bit into their throats and sucked at the precious fluid that welled out. To each pulse, each release of a rope of cum, a suck. And to each suck, another görükle escort pulse of jizz. The it was the vampires’ turn. “Take our seed, pages! Be strong! Be loyal! You are now our slaves in body and soul!” Eric intoned as he and Jason simultaneously flooded the brothers’ guts with their sperm. “Consumatum est!” both vampires cried. Sam and Dean, eyes shut tight, received their masters’ gift of white gold and felt something wash over them. Body and soul, as the vampires had said, they gave over themselves, entirely and without reservation. When they opened their eyes again, they stared up at Eric and Jason, awash in fulfillment that they had pleased the masters, and possessed of an earnest desire to serve the vampires, all vampires, as they were directed in the future. Dean looked up at Eric with a look of awe and worship. Meanwhile, on the next bed, Sam and Jason were involved in a deep kiss, sealing the former’s subservience. Eric crawled backwards off of the former hunter and said, “Oz, release their hands.” The grinning redhead unlocked the cuffs and gave his new brothers a hand up before pushing them towards the still-naked vampires. Eric pointed to the floor, and Dean fell to his knees, followed closely by Sam. The naked brothers put their hands behind their backs, bent their heads, and waited. “We take you both now into our service,” Eric said, placing a hand on Dean’s shaggy head. “From this day forward you shall be ours.” Jason followed suit, placing his hands on Sam’s head and stroked the long hair. “Corpore anmiaque,” Sam intoned, and a moment later Dean echoed, “Corpore animaque.” “Look up, pages.” The brothers looked up and were rewarded by vampire smiles. “Did we please you, master,” Dean asked blond Eric, meekly enough but still with that gruff edge to his voice. Eric laughed and said, “Yes, and so you always shall in our service, my new page.” “Thank you, sir,” Dean said, humbly. “Master or, in my case, My Lord,” Eric said, “Either is acceptable. All other vampires, like Jason here, are simply master. You understand?” “Yes, my lord,” Dean said. Jason said nothing, but kept stroking Sam’s hair lie he was some sort of pet. “Jason, leave him be. We have years for that,” Eric said, “It’s time for us to hit the road. I want to be well out of this place before the sun comes up.” Oz helped the vampires on with their clothes while Sam and Dean pulled their own fight-stained duds back on. Meekly the brothers followed the vampires out to a van that was parked next to their black Impala. Two rough-looking men, one dark and the other sandy, got out of the front of the van. The dark one opened the van’s back doors while the sandy one kept watch. Paranoid much? Dean thought. But then he realized he too was keeping a watch. Inside the van, Sam and Dean saw a couple of comfortable padded benches where the masters could lie down, but on the floor lay two strapping, trussed-up, and completely naked young men. Sam stared. He was sure he’d seen these two with their long hair and muscles. Muscles, yeah, and fat cocks. These two had been trapped in the demon plant’s honeydew, their bodies writhing while the plant’s pods enveloped their sex and teased out load after load of rich man-cream. Now, here they were, restrained quite securely and fitted with ball gags. “My lord,” Sam said, “Those men. I know them. They were prisoners of the penis flytrap.” “Of course they were.” “Wait. You.. you knew about it? About them?” “Who do you think tipped you off?” Eric said, “We knew you were more than capable of taking out the abomination, and in doing so you set loose several dozen men. We had Alcide and Dyson on hand to catch the two best specimens and let the rest make their escape. Then we came straight for you.” Dean looked over the men just named. Alcide and Dyson exuded an animal attraction but were clearly not vampires. Or servants of vampires. Whatever they might be, though, it was immaterial just now. The vampires climbed into the van and knelt by the two bound men. “Archer,” Jason said running his hand over the tattoos on that one’s chest, “And Dan. Prime specimens of manhood. Despite the flytrap, there’s lots of life left in these two. And these four,” as he grabbed their balls. “Once we get them back to the manor, they’ll make excellent thralls.” “Thralls?” Dean said. “And pages, and lords. So of course a manor,” Sam said. “Squires, too. You’re quick, Sam. This is going to work nicely,” Eric said, “Sam, Dean, take your car and follow our van. Oz, you ride with your new companions so you can direct them just in case we get separated on the way home. I’m sure they’ll have some questions for you. Let’s roll out.” Eric and Jason lay down on the seats, their other acquisitions on the floor beside them, and Alcide shut the door. “Hurry up, Dean,” Oz said with a smile, “You too, Sam. We’re going home.” And that said, the redhead climbed in the back seat of the Impala. The brothers shrugged and climbed in the front. The engine purred to life, and they followed the van as it pulled out onto the main road. Behind them, the door to the cabin stood open, two untouched pizzas being the last evidence that the brothers had ever been here. Two dead animals, fungus, and no anchovies.

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