robert heinlen was such a fascist shitheel. also have you ever known anybody who reads heinlen who doesn't weigh like a million to a million and a half pounds? UGH.

Sexy Sex Kittens Who Love to Fuck is playing a gig at a bar in Kansas City and I am hogtied with duct tape in the back of their van. Justine de Sade, playful and imperious bitch, is reclining comfortably in back of the van with her tattered red Chuck Taylors pressed against my face. She's giggling, demanding that I lick the bottoms of her shoes, and Jenny Pinko, her bassist, is bouncing up and down on my butt which keeps forcing the enormous buttplug they shoved into my ass earlier up higher and higher. My arms and legs are numb but I can feel every vibration on the plug and I'm trying not to wet myself as Justine takes the gum out of her mouth, places it on the bottom of her left sneaker and dangles it in front of my face, ordering me to lick off the gum and chew it. The thought makes me gag and both girls giggle and the back of the van is convulsive with the cacophonous laughter and my head, which has been throbbing for at least the past three hours, feels ready to implode. "Please, I have a headache and I'm nauseous", I say and they both laugh more. Justine lights a clove and holds it so that the smoke all drifts into my face and I cough while she plays with my hair.

Justine is a small, platinum blonde, bombastically bratty girl who favors fishnets and her red Chuck Taylor high tops and she's the lead singer for Sexy Sex Kittens. I'm her slave, her bitch and her toy and right now I'm naked, hogtied far too tightly in the back of a cold van while Justine and Jenny (half-Japanese, pink hair, pouty lips and lean, cruelly muscular legs) fuck around with me a little before the show. The windows are blacked out and when they leave they'll gag me and just leave me, unable to move or make a sound, in a parking lot that people will walk through all night without ever guessing there is a captive in the back of a van, shivering against the cold and probably still trying desperately not to wet himself.

The thought of chewing the gum off of Justine's sole makes me feel sick but I can't hold out much longer, as Jenny is digginer her toxic green nails into my back hard enough to draw a little blood. Finally I give in, take the gum into my mouth and start to chew it. Justine cackles "Such a prissy little boy. Look he's turning green!"

Jenny starts to laugh and says "You'd better not puke, gimpy. I'll make you lick it all up before we go in for rehearsal".

I'm chewing the gum, trying to think of anything else, and coughing from the smoke that's still drifting into my face. Justine takes a long drag on her cigarette and blows it all into my face and between the cold and the stuffy van and the gum and the smoke I feel so queasy I worry I may really throw up. The front door of the van opens and Kat, who always looks so preppy and innocent compared to her reform school girl bandmates, wiggles into the front seat.

"Oh you guys" she giggles "it's probably about time to put him away so we can get inside". Kat always seems just on the verge of being sympathetic and now she leans over the seat, very close to my face, and asks Justine what is going on.

"He's chewing gum off the bottom of my feet" she explains and Justine and Jenny both laugh again. My head is throbbing and I'm so painfully hard that I want to scream.

Kat shakes her head. "Poor kid", she says, but she's smiling at me, leaning close, to emphasize how easy it would be if she only wanted to untie me. "You really shouldn't be quite so awful to him" she giggles, lighting a cigarette and holding it so that it, too, is drifting into my face "he's so delicate".

Suddenly, violently, Jenny wraps my head in a blanket and she and Jenny, cackling, wrap three or four circuits of duct tape over it. My nose is exposed so I can breathe, but my mouth is taped shut tightly and my eyes are covered and I'm starting to panic both because I feel so confined and because I know if my nose gets stopped up for some reason I'll probably suffocate. I'm trying to protest, to say something, to flail around, but I just hear a voice (too muffled to tell whose) saying "Babe, you don't have enough air to be wasting it struggling". I feel three hands pat me on my back, three sets of nails rake across my shoulders and ass, and I lose track of how many times my ass is spanked while voices I can't quite make out talk, probably about equipment and set lists. The plug is so far up my ass that every time I move or am jiggled it asserts itself, big and fat and I feel terrifyingly, deliciously full. I'm whimpering as I finally hear three sets of shoes walking around just outside the van and then I hear the door slam close and lock securely and I'm alone.