Mike is Captured



Mike Murphy was head lifeguard at an exclusive beach 
resort on the opposite end of the island from the 
Amazon compound. At 6'4", 200 lbs, with long, dirty 
blond hair, deep tan, hairy chest, and a mustache, he 
was a strapping stud in his late 20's who liked to wear 
skimpy bikinis to thrill the women when he walked 
around the pool. The pouches of his obscenely brief 
Lycra suits barely hid the massive meat of his sweaty 
cock and balls. Sometimes he would even wear a solid 
steel cock-ring to make his sex-equipment bulge out 
more inside its tight confines. 

Mike began working out to become a competition body-
builder, and decided that he needed to have some body-
revealing, custom-cut posing suits made for him. One 
day -- after he had, unknown to him, been under 
observation for weeks by two deadly Amazon manhunters -
- he received an anonymous letter at the resort telling 
him that a new shop had opened up in town: a shop that 
would make custom-cut swimsuits, bikinis, and posing 
straps for musclemen. He decided to give the shop a 
try, and went there alone after work one afternoon.

Mike was wearing construction boots, faded 501 jeans, 
dark aviator sunglasses, and a white stretch-cotton 
tank top when he opened the door to the tiny shop, 
which was out-of-the-way of most of the town's stores. 
Once inside, he was greeted by the two Amazon warriors 
in disguise, both wearing long white smocks like 
laboratory doctors. Never before had he seen two women 
near his exact same height, and Mike began to get 
turned on by the sight of the twin blonde beauties.

"Welcome to Venus Fly-Trap! We are here to make you the 
most perfect man-suits you have ever worn," said the 
one Amazon. "Please, relax and try our new 
SportsDrink," said the other, offering Mike a cup of a 
dark green liquid.

"Sure," said Mike, downing the drink. Later, he 
remembered that it tingled and burned all the way down, 
but at the time he didn't realize that he was being 
given a potent, brain-washing, man-weakening Amazonian 
drug.

"Please go into our changing room, strip down to your 
underwear, and come back out," said one Amazon. "We 
need to take some very specific measurements."

Mike, beginning to feel a little groggy but intoxicated 
that two such beautiful women were going to see him and 
his muscular body wearing only his tight, skimpy 
underwear, went into the room and began stripping off 
his clothes. Soon he had peeled off the tight jeans, 
tank top, and boots, and was down to his black nylon 
mesh string bikini -- with a studded leather cock-ring 
underneath. Feeling even dizzier but very sexy, he 
strutted out into the main room -- right into the trap 
the Amazons had set for him.

The duo began using tape-measures to take Mike's 
specifics. One strode around behind him and tightly 
wrapped the tape around Mike's neck, almost cutting off 
his air supply. The drugged swim-stud coughed, but 
seemed unable to resist the pressure from the tape 
(which had been soaked in another Amazonian man-
weakening potion).
"Stand still!" the other commanded, as she began 
measuring Mike's inseam, poking up hard and deep into 
the weakened lifeguard's huge (and swelling) crotch. 
The Amazon worked her fingers up across the pouch of 
Mike's mesh bikini, squeezing and teasing his 
defenseless man-meat inside its cock-cage. The drugged 
stud, eyes shut, began enjoying the attention his 
confined penis was being given, grinding his hips as he 
was being manipulated down below. He soon started to 
throw a mighty rod into the side of his revealing 
underwear.

"You have certain masculine qualities that require a 
very special suit-design," said one Amazon, as they 
both loosened their tapes. Mike, groggy, cock half-
hard, was barely able to stand without swaying, and the 
two moved in for the kill.

"Here," said the one, giving the dazed musclestud a 
quick kiss, "Put on this sample suit, and come back 
out!" She handed him a damp leopardskin thong. Mike 
didn't realize at the time that it, too, had been 
soaked in a man-destroying drug. He went into the 
changing room (which had hidden videotape cameras 
recording his every move) and stripped off his mesh 
bikini, tugging on the deadly man-trap thong. His penis 
was beginning to leak drops of its powerful sex-juice.

Mike yanked up the drugged suit hard, pulling the 
fabric deep into his ass-crack. It was a bikini like 
the "Holster" he had seen in the Koala catalog: a 
vertical strip of stretch nylon that encased his cock 
like a holster encased a gun. Mike's "gun" was now 
fully at attention, all ten mighty inches standing 
straight up stiff inside the crippling confines of the 
suit that would become the symbol of his defeat at the 
hands of the punishing Amazon warriors. Mike smiled as 
he looked at his studly self in the mirror, not 
realizing that the drugs soaked into the suit were 
destroying his will to resist, rendering him completely 
helpless.

He swaggered out into the shop to be greeted by a sight 
that made his virile blood come alive: the women had 
stripped off their lab coats and were wearing extremely 
brief leopardskin bikinis -- the same look as the suit 
he was wearing. The Amazons were wearing one thing Mike 
wasn't: sharpened spike heels, all the better to dig 
into the ball-sac of a male victim who would try to 
resist being captured.

"Well, hello, muscleman!" the Amazons purred to Mike, 
who was spellbound by the sight of the exotic, erotic 
females. He staggered over to the two, who began 
running their hands over his buffed body. The Amazons 
had rubbed their hands in a massage oil that -- of 
course -- contained another native drug designed to 
enslave any man unfortunate enough to be touched by it. 
They started to grease Mike up, as if they were 
preparing him for a bodybuilding competition. The fully 
aroused, weakened stud was powerless to resist the 
Amazon's latest assault on his body. His massive 
manhood now throbbed and struggled inside its deadly 
cock-cage.

"Whoa, ladies! Gettin'... hot... in here..." Mike 
gasped, almost unconscious, as the Amazons held him by 
the hair and began kissing him deeply down his 
defenseless throat. They took control of the waist-
strap of his thong, slowly pulling up on it to increase 
the pressure on his captured cock and balls, forcing 
more of the paralyzing drug deep into Mike's most 
vulnerable tissue. The helpless lifeguard was about to 
become the totally enslaved sex-toy of the Amazon 
manhunters.
The Amazons kept up their pressure, working their oil 
under Mike's strap, greasing up his huge, fully stiff 
dick. Incapable of resistance, the drugged, overpowered 
musclestud allowed the women to kiss him, fondle him, 
squeeze his rock-hard nipples, and even lightly finger 
him up the ass of his drum-tight bubble-butt. He began 
to moan as the women set in motion their final man-
trap.

"Pose for us, Mike!" "Yes, show off those mighty 
muscles of yours!"

The request -- more of a command -- was too much for 
Mike to resist. He slowly went into a double-bicep flex 
as the Amazons moved in on either side of him. 
Straining his muscles to the fullest, Mike held the 
pose as the women began stroking the sides of his 
deeply tanned -- and now defenseless -- body.

"Go for it, Mike!" "Hold that pose!" "You look like 
Tarzan!"

He stood still as a statue, flexing like the stud he 
was. The Amazons nodded to each other and moved in 
tighter to Mike's sides. Each woman placed one hand 
next to Mike's neck, the other hand right at the base 
of his cock and balls.

"And now, baby, you're going to hold that pose for a 
lot longer than you bargained for!" With that, the 
Amazons stabbed their sharpened, drug-dipped 
fingernails deep into Mike's neck and cock.

The assaulted muscleman let out a howl as the deadly 
nails raked into his helpless flesh. The Amazons dug 
deep and quick, depositing a dose of the final drug 
they needed to capture the already-weakened Mike. The 
6'4" swimmer sank down like a redwood, completely at 
the mercy of the towering Amazons.

The two muscular women easily picked up the fallen 
swim-stud and carried him over to a padded steel 
ambulance gurney. First, they tied a collar around his 
neck, fashioned from drug-soaked vines, that cut down 
his air supply and further weakened the helpless macho-
man. Next, they tugged down his new jungle-strap, 
unsnapped his leather cock-ring, and tied up the base 
of his sex-equipment with more vines. Then, they 
admired their handiwork -- kneeling down next to Mike, 
taking turns slurping over his huge, paralyzed cock, 
running their fingers over the captured, bronzed body 
of the unconscious lifeguard with the obscenely brief 
tan-line. Finally, they yanked up Mike's cock-strap, 
tucking his wrists in at the sides of the restraint 
thong to further bind him as they pulled his cock and 
balls out of the leg opening.

Once they had him right where they wanted him, the 
Amazons pulled the straps on the gurney tight across 
Mike's unresisting body: chest, waist, thighs, ankles 
all strapped down. "Wake up, muscleman," said the one, 
as she sprayed Mike's face with what looked like a 
perfume atomizer. He immediately regained 
consciousness, although his paralyzed muscles were 
frozen, useless. And he was strapped down with 
restraints that would render King Kong helpless.

"You're ours now, buddy-boy. We'll deliver you to the 
Queen of the Amazons soon enough, but the two of us 
want to have a little fun by sex-torturing you first." 
The dazed, abused stallion could hardly believe what 
had happened to him.
"That cock-ring of vines will make sure your balls 
can't shoot your man-juice through that permanent hard-
on we've given you -- not just yet, at least. Oh, we'll 
let you cum -- but it'll be a cum that you'll never 
forget, once we work you over with our little 'bull-
buster' milking machine. The muscle-man hasn't been 
built who can resist the disabling effects of our 
milker! First, though, the two of us are going to have 
some fun with that huge piece of meat of yours."

With that, both Amazons stripped off their bikinis. The 
one straddled Mike's paralyzed body and rammed his 
mighty cock all the way up her pussy, taking all ten 
inches in one deep thrust. She then used her powerful 
cunt muscles to strangle Mike's helpless cock, 
squeezing and constricting the life out of his captured 
meat. Meanwhile, the other one straddled Mike's face, 
smothering him and forcing his mouth to soak up a flood 
of her potent, man-destroying pussy-juice. Gasping for 
air, all he could breathe was a deeper draft of her 
snatch. "Tongue me, slave!" she commanded, as the 
defeated Speedo-stud gasped, eating out the walls of 
her pussy.

The Amazons made good on their promise to sex-torture 
the fallen swimmer. The two powerful muscle-bitches 
took turns straddling Mike's face and cock, playing 
with each other's tits, scraping their nails over the 
defeated lifeguard's chest and thighs, poking probing 
fingers up his defenseless asscrack, slowly finger-
fucking the weakened, unresisting jock. They reached 
under the waistband of his restraint strap and yanked 
at his bronzed pubic bush, pulling out his short-hairs 
one-by-one. They grabbed his balls and twisted them, 
squeezing Mike's mighty, low-hanging nuts to the 
breaking point. They slapped his face when he let out a 
low moan. And the whole time they rode his cock, as 
much as he wanted to, he couldn't cum a single drop of 
his white-hot, restrained jizz.

But the Amazons came! After an hour of teasing and 
torturing the frustrated muscleman, they decided to 
move in for the kill. The Amazons nodded to each other 
and rode Mike's face and cock to the shooting point. 
The two of them screamed and shrieked as they brought 
themselves to orgasm, flooding Mike's body with huge 
blasts of their killer pussy-juice. They smeared their 
fluids all over his powerless body and face, further 
weakening him. The onslaught of their man-enslaving 
fluids coated Mike's face, chest, arms, and legs, 
completely covering his strapped-down body. The spent 
Amazons hopped off Mike, leaving his ten-inch tool 
standing straight up and practically begging to cum.

"We think it's terrible the way we kept you from 
squirting your virile semen," said the one, "especially 
since you pleasured us so well, jock-slave. So we're 
going to make up for it by giving you the orgasm of a 
lifetime.

"You swimmers use the term 'suit up' for when you put 
on your scanty little Speedos before a meet. Shoving 
that big, bad sex equipment into those daring little 
bikinis -- usually, when you're half-hard, just to let 
the guys know you're a real stud -- and then strutting 
your straining bulges all over the locker room. Those 
crotch-controlling bikinis are smaller and tighter than 
the ones that women wear. Well, baby, we're gonna suit 
you up with something you've never had encasing your 
cock before. Something that's gonna make your Speedo 
stud-suit feel like a breath of fresh air.
The other Amazon knelt next to Mike, carrying a 
strange-looking device. It had a long, clear plastic 
sheath on one end that was attached by a tube to what 
looked like a small black calculator. On the other end 
of "calculator's" control panel was a clear plastic 
sac. The small panel had a knob and flashing lights on 
it.

She began squirting some kind of thick oil over Mike's 
cock that caused it to tingle and throb. She used both 
hands to fully lubricate the helpless lifeguard's 
massive, tortured meat, as Mike slightly stirred his 
hips in response. Once she was finished greasing up the 
fallen musclejock, she tugged the clear sheath down 
tightly over Mike's cock, fastening it with a snap-ring 
at the base of his root. Attached to the ring were two 
wires that ended in tiny, sticky foam-rubber pads, 
which she attached to each of Mike's mighty balls.

She stood up, smiling a wicked smile, licking her lips 
in anticipation of the sex-torture they were about to 
inflict on the overpowered bodybuilder with the very 
brief tan-line. "We're gonna give you the greatest 
orgasm of your life, stud-muscles. In fact, it's gonna 
be so great, it's gonna drain those mighty, cum-bloated 
balls of yours dry as a desert.

"You see, this devious little device we've hooked up to 
your sex-equipment is a wonder of Amazonian science. 
It's a portable milking machine we call the 'stud-
buster' -- because it can take any man, no matter how 
strong and powerful he is, and completely drain him of 
every drop of jock-jizz he's got. Men a lot stronger 
than you are right now, my weakened bikini-boy!

"And once a man's drained of his jizz, he's drained of 
his strength, too. You might remain conscious, but the 
creaming we're gonna give you will last a good sixty 
seconds or more. Imagine -- a full minute's worth of 
blasting out every last drop of that virile sex-juice 
that you've got. And yes, even though your very 
desirable body is almost totally paralyzed at this 
point, you will buck and strain within your bonds as 
the orgasm wracks your muscles and strikes throughout 
your entire body and brain. And once you're drained 
dry, you're destroyed! You'll be taken back to our 
compound for another round of sex-torture and 
enslavement.

"Well, enough talk... time to turn your nuts inside 
out, Tarzan!"

The fiendish manhunter smiled and began to twist the 
knob on the black panel. The milker hummed into action, 
beginning its complete evacuation of Mike's balls. At 
first it was erotic to the helpless swimmer, and he 
writhed his hips in expectation of the kind of pleasure 
women had always given him in the past. But soon his 
pleasure turned to discomfort as the Amazon twisted the 
knob further, creating more and more powerful suction 
on Mike's encased, blood-engorged rod.

The pumping action was brutal! Just as she said, the 
weakened, worn-down muscleman began to try to fight 
against the restraining straps that held him down on 
the gurney -- to no avail. The leather was too strong, 
too strong for Mike even if he had his full, powerful 
masculine strength -- which he didn't. "I'll fight you 
bitches!" he cried out, "I'll... hold back my cum!" It 
was obvious that the milker was already having a 
debilitating effect on the strapped-down Speedo-stud.
"I don't think so, pussy-man," the Amazon said, 
laughing. "With all the drugs we've dosed you with, 
you'll be lucky if this machine doesn't suck your 
testicles right out of your ball-sac, along with all of 
your jock-juice!"

She twisted the knob further, and Mike began to 
struggle mightily under the straps holding him down. 
Meanwhile, the other Amazon knelt next to him, grabbed 
him by the hair with one hand, and shoved her tongue 
deep down into his defenseless throat. With the other 
hand, she began to squeeze his unprotected nipples, 
then raked her nails over the sensitized flesh. She 
scraped her claws all the way down the front of his 
straining chest, across his rock-hard abdominal 
muscles, and down right to the edge of his waistband. 
Tonguing the powerless jock even deeper, the Amazon 
reached under the top of his thong and took full hold 
of his golden-brown pubes. As Mike gasped for air and 
struggled against the overpowering effects of the 
milking machine, the Amazon was yanking up on his 
short-hairs! She was ripping his bush out by the roots!

That last attack on his manhood was too much for the 
once-defiant swim-stud. He arched his back to the 
fullest as the other Amazon cranked the milker up to 
its ultimate power. Mike was being forced to cum! All 
his resistance gone, the seduced, subdued lifeguard 
cried out as the first wave of cum-pressure hit his 
balls -- hard. Only -- his yelling was muffled into the 
mouth of the kneeling Amazon, who kept up her powerful 
lip-lock on Mike's defenseless mouth.

And then it hit! Rope after rope of Mike's boiling, 
white-hot sex-juice shot out of his cock and flew up 
the tube, into the collection sac. He rocked from side 
to side, struggling in enforced pleasure as the deadly 
milker continued its assault on his masculinity. Jet 
after jet pulsed out of him as the other Amazon kept 
throating him and yanking up on his man-bush. Soon his 
yells were reduced to loud moans as less and less of 
his sperm gushed out of his trapped balls. Forty-five 
seconds into the machine-generated orgasm, all Mike 
could do was muster thin, watery dribbles of his virile 
essence. "No more... please!" he gasped, muscles 
contorted, face red, sweating body wracked with 
pleasure-pain as the milker kept up its killer grip on 
his agonized, exhausted balls. The tall, tanned pool-
stud was almost totally de-jizzed.

"What's the matter, stallion? I thought a lady-killer 
like you could cum all night long and not dry out! 
Looks like you're just about down to single drops of 
jizz. Did we unman you, Tarzan? Did we dry those big, 
bad balls of yours all up? Let's see if the powerless, 
strapped-down sex-jock has any sperm still left...

The Amazon hit a button on the control panel marked 
"FINISH." The milker cranked up into overdrive, drawing 
the last few beads of semen out of the whimpering, 
shaking Mike. He arched his back and yelled one last 
time -- then fell still, out cold, victim to the 
overpowering suction of the Amazon's stud-buster.

"A minute-twenty... not bad," said the one. "Looks like 
we milked out about a pint-and-a-half, judging from how 
full this collection sac is! Disconnect him and let's 
get on our way." The other Amazon unsnapped the root-
ring from the base of Mike's cock, pulled off the ball-
pads, and tugged the sheath off his defeated, enslaved 
donkey-dick. The sheath made a slurping sound as his 
cock sprang free.
"NO! On second thought, 'suit him up' again. I've got a 
better idea." The other Amazon reconnected the 
unresisting Mike to the deadly milker. And Mike's boner 
was still hard as a rock! The Amazonian cock-ring vines 
had given him a permanent hard-on, even though his 
brutalized balls were sapped dry. Mike still had to be 
prepped for his journey across the island and deep into 
the Amazon's compound, where the Queen awaited her 
latest male captive.

"Let's wake up Sleeping Beauty with a kiss!" The one 
Amazon popped a capsule into her mouth, leaned down, 
and kissed Mike -- shooting the capsule deep down his 
throat. In a few seconds, the native stimulant had 
revived the vanquished muscleman, who slowly shook his 
head from side to side as he came to.

"Welcome back, Tarz-Ann! Now that you've been drained 
of all your liquid male strength, you're as helpless as 
a little girl! But we need to do a few more things to 
you to make sure you don't try to escape when we take 
you back to our compound. We'll start out by using that 
super-brief mesh bikini you wore in to our little trap. 
Remember your tiny black mesh panties? They're going to 
help do you in even further. Watch what happens with 
your Speedo-underpants, slave!"

Mike stared up groggily, still dazed from the brutal 
forced milking he had endured at the hands of the 
vengeful Amazons. His aching sex equipment was all 
purplish-red and swollen from the man-breaking suction 
directed against it. And his beautifully muscled body 
was unresponsive, useless, still being weakened to the 
point of near-paralysis by the potent drugs coursing 
though him.

The women stripped down their bikini bottoms across 
their powerful thighs. They took turns rubbing Mike's 
skimpy mesh undergear hard across their pussies, 
soaking his black bikini with their will-destroying 
juices. Once they had it dripping with their fluids, 
they knelt down next to him and rubbed it all over his 
unwilling face. Then they held his nose closed and 
stuffed the deadly garment deep into his mouth. They 
gagged Mike with his own bikini, oozing with juices 
that would further beat down his power to resist!

The incapacitated swimmer choked at first, but the 
subjugating power of the Amazons' juices quickly 
weakened him even more. "That's better. How does it 
feel to be further destroyed by your own bikini -- that 
sexy symbol of what used to be your red-blooded, mighty 
manhood! And speaking of symbols of your manhood -- we 
have to subdue you even more, I'm afraid. That oil that 
we used to lubricate you for the milker can do a great 
many things to a man's penis, and you're about to 
discover another one of them. Let's bind up his cock!"

Both women knelt on either side of Mike and tugged his 
thong-strap down low across his thighs. Then, each 
grasping his mighty stiffness with a claw-grip, they 
started to pull Mike's cock down -- milker-sheath, 
tube, and all -- to point it straight at his feet! He 
arched his back as the pressure increased on his 
bending dick, but the Amazons kept up their punishment 
until his full ten inches was bent down to the middle 
of his thighs, balls crushed underneath.

And then they did the unthinkable -- they yanked up 
Mike's strap! His leopardskin loin-thong became a 
crippling cock-cage, trapping his massive, straining 
sex-equipment in a strength-sapping Lycra prison.

As they did before, they tucked his wrists in at the 
sides of the skimp-suit's leg openings, to further 
restrain Mike and his aching, pulsating meat. As if 
that wasn't enough, one of the Amazons produced another 
tiny atomizer and began to spray Mike's contorted sex-
bulge with a potion that began to cause his brief to 
shrink! "How does that feel, muscleman? Your bikini-
strap is about to become three sizes too small for the 
size of your prize. Kind of like shrink-wrapping saran 
plastic-wrap around meat! The only way that tight 
baby's coming off is when we slice it off back at the 
compound -- leaving what's inside intact, of course. 
But no before we have some fun with it!

"Guess why we kept you hooked up to the stud-buster! 
You're going to slowly manufacture more cum -- and 
we're gonna keep the milker on at its lowest setting. 
So as soon as you make it -- we'll pull it out of you! 
You'll stay drained and milked all the way back to the 
compound, just as weak as a little girl once we present 
you to our Queen. And don't try any funny stuff!

With that, she gave Mike's tortured cock a sharp karate 
chop, and the defeated swim-stud winced in pain. "One 
more strap, slave." She pulled another leather 
restraint straight across Mike's bent-down dick, making 
sure to cinch it up as tight as possible to keep the 
muscleman and his captured cock in agony.

"Two more details -- get the gas and the vibrator." The 
other Amazon produced a small metal tank hooked up to a 
clear plastic breathing mask. They strapped the tank to 
Mike's unresisting chest with surgical tape and fixed 
the mask across his mouth and nose. "This potent 
concoction of gaseous drugs, herbs, and women's aromas 
won't exactly knock you cold, Speedo-boy, but it will 
do some nasty things to your will, your ability to 
fight back, and your masculinity overall. You might say 
it's going to pussify you even more than you already 
have been, if that's possible And just for good 
measure, we're going to drive this micro-vibrator up 
your defeated ass, just to remind you who's boss." The 
Amazon turned on a tiny, battery-powered vibrator 
smaller than her little finger, and shoved it up Mike's 
unresisting butt.

The overcome swim-stud was in no position to argue as 
the Amazons put their lab coats back on and pulled a 
white sheet across his paralyzed, well-muscled body. 
The milker kept up its insistent pressure, slowly 
pulling out every fresh drop of man-juice the helpless 
jock could muster, keeping him weak and de-jizzed. They 
wheeled him on the gurney into an ambulance waiting in 
the alley behind their shop, after they turned the 
"CLOSED" sign forward on the front door.

And as they drove him off toward the compound on the 
far end of the island, Mike inhaled deeply and drifted 
off into a world of total subjugation at the hands of 
his worst masculine nightmare: unmanned and jock-tamed 
by the deadliest of cum-robbing, stud-busting Amazonian 
manhunters.