published July 17, 2017
John is an engineer, stranded outside the United States of Columbia due to President Trumpet’s travel ban. Fortunately, his father’s family helps him find some life changing work to pass the time…
Arabian Night By Nicky Noxville
All of my stories take place in a parallel world, very similar to our own, where STI’s do not exist, so my stories are filled with practices that are highly unsafe in this world. I’m not going to say don’t try this at home, but take care of yourself. All of my characters are of legal age, and you should be, too—do not read my stories if you are under the legal age in your country/area. Any resemblance to real persons, locations, or events is entirely coincidental. If you enjoy my writing, please consider becoming my Patron. I will write full time if I can make enough to pay the bills. My Patrons have early access to new stories, access to patron only stores, previews of works-in-progress, and more. Visit click here to find out more. You can also follow my tumblr blog by going to: http://nickynoxville.tumblr.com, or email me directly at email@example.com. I always appreciate hearing from readers. A few more words on this story. This was born of a reaction to the first Muslim travel ban. I was hearing all sorts of accounts of people being denied entry back into the country. At the same time, I discovered a certain video on Pornhub (click here). It’s a little bit of political satire, and future chapters will be even more so if I choose to continue. I did not do any kind of research before writing this, so I apologize if I misrepresented anything. And now, our feature presentation…
Walking through a brothel was a strange experience. I had heard of them, but seeing the exotic building with people doing all sorts of lewd things in plain sight was a bit unnerving. I supposed it made sense for the box to end up in a place like this. I had only done the mechanical engineering, but even without knowing what the other members of the team were working on, it seemed obvious that it was some sort of high end, immersive, sex toy. They told me what they wanted, and I made it work. It’s purpose wasn’t my business.
Honestly, I was just happy to have work while president Ronald Trumpet’s travel ban kept me from going home.
I still had no idea why my boss would call me here. A skinny boy guided me to the basement where the box was set up. It was open, and standing next to it was my boss, and my twin cousins.
“Alim! Asim! What are you doing here?” I came up and hugged them. I’d met them for the first time a couple of months ago, when president Ronald Trumpet’s travel ban left me stranded outside of my home country, the United States of Columbia. It was actually their father, my father’s brother, who had heard about this job and set me up with it.
“Ah, Jon, you’re here. We can start now,” my boss, Harith, said. “Your cousins are here to witness the first test of the machine. We need a trial run before we pursue our actual targets, and their father did fund a substantial portion of the project.”
“Targets?” I asked.
“Yes. We just found out that President Trumpet is going to be in the country on a diplomatic mission, and to visit some of his business interests. While President Trumpet may be untouchable, he is bringing his sons with him, and they plan to visit this very brothel. Since your part is done, you will make an excellent test subject.”
“Wait, what? No way.” I started to back out, and didn’t notice the guards that had walked up behind me. They held me still, and my cousins came forward to start taking off my clothes. I tried to struggle, but they made easy work of me.
“As I said, their father, your uncle, provided a significant portion of our funding. Testing it on you was a condition of that donation,” Harith explained.
“Stop! You can’t do this! What if something goes wrong? You’ll need me to fix it!” I pleaded, grasping for anything that might lead to my salvation.
“I am confidant that the hardware is sound; you did excellent work here. Any problems that arise are likely to be with the software or chemistry, so you are free to enjoy being our guinea pig.” They were carrying me, naked, to the box. They started to strap me into the restraints, and soon I found myself held immobile, suspended in the air. They fit the headset over my head, and the earphones over my ears. “Have fun,” Harith said, lifting one headphone to whisper into my ear. “See you on the other side.” The headphone snapped back into place, and a few seconds later I heard the muffled hum of the box closing around me. I was acutely aware that my naked body was now on holographic display for them on the front panel.
Since I had designed the hardware, they didn’t bother with any kind of orientation. I was held suspended, a strap around my head, and restraints holding me spread eagle, exposed, enclosed in the box. My eyes were covered by an immersive VR headset, and my ears were enclosed in high quality headphones. That wasn’t what worried me. What worried me was the gas dispersal mechanism that I’d worked with a chemist to get right. I didn’t know what the gas did, but I knew I didn’t want to find out.
I was also worried about a dildo-like liquid dispenser that would activate at some point during the program. I had worked with the chemist on that one, too. It was linked to a button within reach of my left fingers that I was being careful to avoid. If I pressed that button, the thing would force itself forward into my mouth. There was another button within reach of my right fingers that I was avoiding like the plague. It would activate a second dildo that would begin fucking me in my exposed ass. It, too, was designed to inject some chemical compound that the chemist had developed. Everything that happened in the box would be on display.
I felt a sudden hum and struggled against my bonds in panic. They were activating it. Whatever we had all been working on, I was about to find out, firsthand. I had designed the box myself. I knew there was no way to get out.
Light flickered and my vision filled with images of Arab men. My ears filled with Arabian sounding music. I was really confused as the montage continued. Different men, many dancing, some just standing, some without shirts on. The camera started to focus on their bulges, the VR making it feel like I was focusing on them myself, and the gas dispenser near my nose hissed as it delivered the first dose. I had already been inhaling, so the gas filled my lungs right away. A wave of euphoria washed over me. I felt my cock surging to life between my legs, bobbing lewdly in the darkness as I focused on the Arab men filling my vision.
“You love Arab men,” an accented voice said softly. The headphones gave the illusion that it was coming from behind me. I had designed that, too. One of the men pulled out his hard cock. I stared at it, and then another man was showing off his erection. Another puff of gas hit my face, and I inhaled without meaning to. I couldn’t fight what was happening. “Arab men make you horny,” the voice cooed into my left ear, sending a shiver down my spine and giving me goosebumps. The men started to stroke their cocks. I couldn’t look away. My own cock was bouncing, leaking. They started to stroke their cocks, masturbating in front of me. All these sexy Arab men.
What was I thinking?
I was so horny I couldn’t think straight. The montage continued, and as it went on I could tell the men were getting closer and closer to cumming, right there, right in front of me. A new Arab man was there, smiling, and I knew there was no way I’d get to see this guy’s cock. Then the camera moved down, and there it was. He was already masturbating furiously, smiling down at me as I stared at his dick. I was hunching my hips against the restraints. I had never been so horny in my life. The gas dispenser hissed, and I breathed deep. I felt something moist touch my lips and licked them unconsciously. Another wave of euphoria filled my head. Then one of the men shot his load. It exploded from his cock in a torrent, and I flinched against my restraints. They were all cumming. Stroking. Cumming. New men entered the montage. My vision was filled with an Arab man laying back as a white man stroked his beautiful cock. The gas hissed. My tongue darted out and took in more of the liquid that the dildo pressing against my mouth was leaking.
“You are a slut for Arab cock,” the voice said, behind me again. My cock felt like it got harder. “You would love to be stroking those beautiful cocks, wouldn’t you?” I moaned and licked the head of the dildo again. “Arab cock can give you the one thing you need most, your purpose for being.” I kept watching the Arab cocks cum in front of me, imagining that I was the one stroking them in the video. “You need Arab cum. It is your purpose. You’re addicted to Arab cum.”
The montage of ejaculations continued. I was tonguing the dildo in front of me, watching all those cocks erupt. I knew it was true. I needed Arab cum. The gas hissed, and I huffed it in, eagerly watching the cum flying. Out of nowhere, the scene changed to a white guy on his knees, eagerly sucking on the Arab man’s huge cock. Then another, and another. My vision filled with blow jobs. The gas hissed, my cock bounced, my tongue lapped.
Was it going to tell me to love sucking Arab cock, too? I was waiting. I knew I needed Arab cum, and that if it told me to suck cock, I would. I knew that I could hit that left button, if I wanted to. My finger lightly traced it. The scene changed to a white guy with his mouth open, an Arab man blasting cum into his mouth. Then it hit me; the voice had told me I need Arab cum. This is how you get Arab cum, it didn’t have to tell me anything else.
I pressed the button and opened my mouth. The voice laughed in my right ear and cooed, “Goooood boy.” I felt both humiliated and aroused as the cock slid forward into my mouth. “You love to suck Arab cock. You will suck the cock of any Arab man who offers it to you.” I was eagerly slurping on the dildo while I watched cock after cock shoot into mouths and across faces. All that Arab cum. I realized I had accepted my need to suck Arab cocks. Then a boy was on all fours, and an Arab man knelt between his legs, aiming his cock at the boy’s exposed hole. It slid in easily, drawing a moan from the prone white boy.
I remembered two things, as if a fog had parted. First, there was that second button. Second, that my Arab cousins were probably seeing all this unfold right now. And they would see if I pushed the second button. My ass twitched, the gas hissed, and I started to take a perverse pleasure from the thought of my sexy, Arab cousins seeing what was happening to me. It was difficult to keep up with the montage of fucking, so I stopped trying. I just sucked on the dildo and stared at the Arab men fucking horny little faggots like me. My hole ached, feeling empty. The gas hissed, and I moaned around the dildo in defeat as my right finger stretched out and jabbed the second button.
I immediately felt pressure at my hole, and a tingling warmth seemed to spread from the point of contact. The pressure was steadily increasing, and as I relaxed the dildo slipped inside me. It moved forward, slowly, moving deeper and deeper into my insides. I continued watching white boys getting spit-roasted, periodically having loads of Arab cum pumped into this end or that. I knew my cousins were watching, and I hoped they were enjoying it.
There was no arguing, no denying it. I was a slut for Arab cock, and an Arab cum addict. I knew that, soon, I would get to please some Arab men, and that was the most exciting thought of all.
Everything went black, and then I heard the hum of the box opening. Hands were unfastening the restraints, and the earphones and headset were pulled off of my head. Freed, I fell to my hands and knees, ready to start pleasing Arab men. I looked up, and noticed a whole group of men standing there.
“Oh boy, oh boy,” I kept repeating under my breath as I crawled forward. My knees were where I needed to be, so it felt silly to stand up just to walk over and kneel again. My cousins were right at the front of the group, already naked, and my eyes locked onto their identically impressive crotches.
“Uh… A–Asim, Alim… You…” I trailed off, a string of drool running from the corner of my mouth. “What is it, cousin? Why can’t you look us in the eye.” From my peripheral vision I could tell that they had identical smirks.
“It’s uh… You’re my cousins, but… you’re… You’re Arab.” I stuttered.
“And?” they said together.
“I’m a slut for Arab cocks,” I confessed to them, as if they didn’t already know. “I want to suck your cocks!”
“Is that all?” They asked.
“Ohhhhh,” I groaned eagerly, “Noooo. I want you to fuck me!” They laughed as they heard me say this.
“Of course you do. Well, we’ll grant you this favor. If you do a good job, maybe we will fuck you again in the future.” Asim lay back on the ground, grasped his cock, and shook it at me. “Crawl on over, slut.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice. I straddled my cousins hips, and moaned like a whore when I felt the head of his cock meet my ass. I sank down onto it, already loose and lubed from the fucking the box had given me. It was everything I had imagined. No sooner had he slipped inside me than I felt Alim move up behind me. Another cock met my ass, and I realized that my cousins had taken me literally, and were going to fuck me at the same time.
“You’re going to like this,” Alim said, and then he pressed forward, forcing his cock into my ass alongside his brother’s.
Two Arab cocks in my ass! I thought excitedly. Two at once! Two at once! They started to move in and out, independently of each other, and I already felt like I was going to cum. Suddenly, a stranger stepped forward from the group, straddled Asim, and pressed his cock against my lips. I didn’t even have to think about it, I just opened my mouth and let him in,
Three Arab cocks! Three!
I lost it, and cum started to spray from my cock. I felt Asim catching it and smearing it over my torso. They didn’t stop fucking, working in opposition to each other, and I never got soft.
I already knew that I was never going home. This is what I had been waiting for my whole life, why would I want to leave?