Platform 5

Platform 5

 

 

“Are you here for something specific, he asked?

“I don’t know,” Mahmoud answered, generally confused, having thought himself so opposed to the order until it came to pass that he was standing there, before him.

“You do know what this is, right? Have you been here before?”

“I haven’t. Actually, no, wait, that’s a lie. My father always said, when you’re in the place of death, you know. This is not such a place. I haven’t been here, no. Do you live here, my friend? What is your name?”

“My name is John,” he said. “John Carp.”

“And you live here?”

“Yes, you can say that. Why? What do you think? Do you like what you see, my friend?”

“I don’t mind it, to be honest.”

“You’re not so conservative, then.”

“Habibi, I was in Beirut before the war. Trust me, we were not serious. Things were better then.”

“There is always an escape.”

“Do you deal in escapes?”

“I deal with nomads.”

“Really? Interesting. How do you say?”

“This place is a place of imagination. A place where you can find anything you desire, anything at all.”

“Anything at all?”

Mahmoud took a deep breath and observed the room. The hall was mostly dim, but for the entrance, lit in a bluish hue, very inviting, and the exit, lit in red, with the two opposing doors standing on staircases, sort of like stilts, to enter the rooms, three little stairs and the staircase, and the floor between them carpet black, so the surface was almost like a sharper velvet, but in the dark it seemed to somehow glow. Through the entrance, to where his steps had marked in the sandy ground, the bare feet below on the sandy surface, the smoothest sort of sand you know. He was holding a flier, with two business cards tucked into the front. His white linen shirt, with an orange collar, pockets on both side of front, hung over his belly like a hearse marrows in mud. The wall, four meters high, was covered in glass, and from the glass protruded a shelter of shelves two meters out, deep and underlying and expressive. Instruments Mahmoud had lived his whole life without, never having thought, not once, of possessing their means. He had seen the fliers, the banners, around. He drank tea on Saturdays at the People’s Park, and there’d be fliers everywhere on the grass, in and around the fountain. At the driver’s rest stop, on Avenue Rose. Fuck, what was he doing?

“What are all these things,” he said.

“Do you like them? Do you want to try them on?”

“Who is going to wear them?”

“Well, that’s totally your call, my friend. Please, here, here, sit down, sit down, let me show you something.”

“Is there, let’s say, an image in your mind? Something specific we might offer? Something you came here specifically to find?”

“Is it possible to do that? How specific, are you saying, really?”

“As specific as you like, of course. What would you like? Do you want me to show you a catalogue, or something for inspiration? Or go off your details, we can maybe put something together, put the words together and I see what I have. Now, do you know about our Digital special? You can experience the same but with two friends of your choosing at a discounted price, in a digital avenue of full sensation. The characters you will encounter are engineered by some of our brightest and bravest technicians and architects. It’s some of the best work you’ve ever seen.”

“I believe it. But I think I’m gonna pass. Sounds awesome but I want the real thing. That’s why I’m here.”

“Okay. So anything in specific you like?”

“Tight butts, for sure. Nice lower back. Dimples. Broad, wide shoulders, like swimmer’s shoulders, that forms like a V from behind. Strong legs, strong calves.”

“With or without a cock?”

“With, definitely.”

“Any handicaps turn you on in specific?”

“No, not at all.”

“Any languages, in specific?”

“Nope.”

“Any languages or handicaps turn you off?”

“I’d prefer no handicaps, please. And, I guess, I don’t like Payol or Punjar. Arabic, Persian, English is fine.”

“So with a cock, active or passive?”

“Active. In fact, actually, make that passive. Or can I make that both?”

“Yes, of course you can. You want both for sure or both maybe?”

“What’s the difference?”

“The price.”

“The price beforehand, or after we’ve decided?”

“Before. In case you go back on your word, if you go off the script, you will pay a penalty, not all of it, but some. Is there anything you want to do in specific?”

“I want to eat her ass. I want to bust in her face. I want to suck her cock, but not for long, unless it’s really turning me on. I want her to come in my mouth. I want her to rub her ass and her cock on my face. I want her to fuck me in the mouth, like really hard. I want to get fucked in the ass, but not for long. Like I said, I want to come either in her mouth or on her face. Oh yeah, I want her to have long hair.”

“Okay. Height?”

“Tall.”

“How tall are you?”

“It’s on my file.”

“Alright. So taller?”

“Not by much, but yeah. Wait, are you counting with or without heels?”

“With, of course. We count the final product. She doesn’t have to ever remove the heels, if you don’t want. But we prefer that you tell us, so we set you up with someone perfect in heels, who knows how to walk and doesn’t get tired. We have Pam, and Samantha, and Lea Ley. Pam was a competitive biker, and the others worked delivery on bikes. They’re super fit, super charged. They love a good fuck, can serve or charge.”

 

 

He watched him handle the sheets. He spoke without looking over at him standing over the bed. He went about his business mindfully, as though he had done it a thousand times.

“I never trust these rooms,” he said. “Sit down,” he said, taking his seat at the edge of the bed.

He realized he hadn’t taken off any of his clothes, including his jacket. He laid the jacket at the foot of the bed, folding it in two. He circled the room for a moment, sitting on the ground by the door, keeping his eyes from his eyes.

“Is everything alright,” he asked.

He pulled a bottle of scotch from the top drawer of a brown wooden cabinet. He spoke without turning back to him, to face him.

“Tell me something,” he said.

The feeling of tension lifted from the room. He noticed it then, like there had been a strong current pulling them to the ground, and suddenly they felt light, suddenly everything felt a little more light.

He wanted to say, I have the vague sensation of having been here, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled off his shirt, and unbuttoned his pants. He stepped out of his boots, and removed his briefs.

He continued to stroke his pulsating cock.

“Where do you want me,” he asked.

 

He found one of the enlisted in a dwelling. After shaking her price, they walked through an abandoned courtyard and under an old government building entrance, surrounded by large columns. Behind one of the columns she removed her jacket, and then her blouse. She unbuttoned her pants.

“Where are you from?”

He ignored the question. Why, he wanted to ask, would it change anything.

They had agreed to do what they both needed.

“I didn’t want to fuck you,” he said as she left, stomping away on her heels.

He slept under the muse’s temple. In the morning, he headed back to the pier. He struggles with the memory of that night, sleeping in the arms of the streetside whore, dragging her to the bones. A night he remembers as having lost to the whim of traveling the vortex cave of an island. He found himself alone in a room with the escort. He had brought her to the room with the intention of courting her, but in the end he felt it was he, himself, who was being courted. He had one wish, to understand something welled deep within her psyche, that arose and took hold of her life. In the corridor of the brothel. The elderly host leads him to the room without saying a word. As he entered, he gave him a look to suggest he knew exactly what the man needed. We have one of that type, he said to him. The scene unfolded in his hands, and without his knowing, but waking up later to the sound of furious pipes banging at the walls, he stroked the smooth skin of her back. He watched him handle the sheets. He spoke without looking over at him standing over the bed. He went about his business mindfully, as though he had done it a thousand times.

“I never trust these rooms,” he said. “Sit down,” he said, taking his seat at the edge of the bed.

He realized he hadn’t taken off any of his clothes, including his jacket. He laid the jacket at the foot of the bed, folding it in two. He circled the room for a moment, sitting on the ground by the door, keeping his eyes from his eyes.

“Is everything alright,” he asked.

He pulled a bottle of scotch from the top drawer of a brown wooden cabinet. He spoke without turning back to him, to face him.

“Tell me something,” he said.

The feeling of tension lifted from the room. He noticed it then, like there had been a strong current pulling them to the ground, and suddenly they felt light, suddenly everything felt a little more light. He wanted to say, I have the vague sensation of having been here, but he didn’t. Instead, he pulled off his shirt, and unbuttoned his pants. He stepped out of his boots, and removed his briefs. He continued to stroke his pulsating cock.

“Where do you want me,” he asked.

“On the bed,” he said. “Stick your ass out like that,” he said, pushing his lower back down. “I want to see it curve. There, yeah, that’s better. Mm,” he said, “your ass looks good. Let me get some more light on his asshole,” he said to Jeremy. “Shroud it in light, I want it totally exposed…There that’s better…Bring me the lube…Right, what is this?”

“It’s NoRoom, organic.”

“Is it the type that sticks to you and the smell never goes?”

“No, it’s not. It goes away easily.”

He drenched the anus in lubricant., rubbing it in with his thumbs, fingering the boy’s asshole.

“What kind of gape did we have in here,” he asked Marwa, “this is really great. He’s like, five dilated.”

“It’s really great. It’s from FX Lab in Dur’han. They sell it in fake pieces as well on Avenue Rose. It keeps the anus open for hours, without a single tear. It really holds. And it’s climate resistant, meaning it doesn’t start to itch in heat or start to expand in winter.”

“I love the way his little boipussy feels.”

“It’s really brilliant.”

“How does that feel, Baho?”

“It feels really nice, babe.”

“I want you to tell us when you feel uncomfortable, alright? Don’t do us any favors, because you won’t be. It’s important for the asshole not to get too dry during the shooting. I’m going to need your anus for at least three days. This is a marathon, not a sprint. How many cocks are you set up to take over the weekend?”

“Fifteen.”

“I got a news flash for you. by the end of it, you’re going to take at least eighteen, altogether.”

 

 

“So Danielle this is Marwa, she’s our assistant. She’ll help you get started. I believe you guys have a casting audition at 3, but until then you can go and get your hair and makeup. Let’s see your nails, babe? Okay, awesome, let’s get you some nails done too. So I’ll see you in a few hours, babe, alright? You’re gonna be awesome. Go get ‘em sweetheart. You got this made.”

To Marwa.

“I want you to put him in as little as possible to make him feel hot, okay? Something short, to show off his legs. Let’s get his ass waxed as well, get him waxed and cleaned. And put him in a large buttplug, right away, okay? Danielle, have you taken a shit today? Do you need an enema?”

“No, I’m fine. I already did that, before coming. But I’d love a quick wax, actually, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah, let’s do it. Let’s see. Anything else. Nope, I think you’re fine.”

“Thanks, babe.”

“No problem. Hey, I heard you impressed Roy by the way. He was here earlier, writing a report.”

“He knows about this?”

“Everyone does. It’s your breakthrough babe, enjoy it.”

“Which color do you like, baby? I have blue, red, sorority brown. A very beautiful esther. A sort of casual rose. The esther is nice in winter, in summer its morose. I think, on your skin type, you should go for a calamity red, the kind used by June Harper. Do you know her?”

“Ofcourse.”

“I love her music. Did you hear “Ladies on the Rack”? It’s divine.”

“Isn’t it.”

“You have such nice hands and feet, babe. You’re a natural. Have you done this before?”

“A few times. I was never alone long enough. Do you think it will work? Will I get what I always wanted?”

“And more. Trust me, you’ll never go back. You’ll be better than before.”

 

“Any ideas guys, for the script?”

“I was thinking something romantic this time. Like, last time we went with something brutal, and it worked, and before that we did something kind of cheesy and off, and it worked. I liked when you guys did something surreal, when I wasn’t here. That was really, really nice. And when they did something jubilant, like spiritual, back in the day, that was also great. In between, we have to be honest with ourselves, we’ve had a lot of suckers.”

“I like the idea of going through the back. Something dark, mysterious. Something with a lot of mist, a lot of rain. No, like, people delivering quarter pounders. You know? Something tragic, as well. We haven’t tried real drama of that sort. And we haven’t tackled love. I don’t know. Those are my thoughts.”

“You, what do you think?”

“I like the idea of something mysterious.”

“You, what you reading these days? Give us something.”

“I like the idea of a walk, something like a panorama. Cityscape, city walls.

 

“So, you do know the nature of this play, right?”

“I do. I was already told. I’m up for it, I promise.”

“It’s really only about one shot.”

“The shot with the anus.”

“So, we brought some others whoa ren’t filmmakers themselves, who aren’t in film entirely, but who work in the porn industry as experts, in a way, consultants. This is Jack Khashan, and this is Baba Mansour. You may know him from his time as host of Panorama Exclusive. They’re going to help us with some careful logistics, so we can navigate the questions more easily. Jack here is a lifetime performative Master, and he currently runs the lifelines of two slaves and three characters. Baba Mansour is more in the dark, aren’t you Baba? Baba is now a recording artist, releasing his first LP, Gone with the Strange. He is currently working on his next masterpiece, Sounds of Cool, and he’s a regular producer on the pay-for-stream favorite, literary pornography exclusive Raw.”

“Thank you for the introduction, Jihan.”

“Thanks Jij.”

“He wants the anus to recede, to contract, and to expand. He wants it wet, slobbery. He wants it to be yours. Are you up for that? Don’t let yourself think for a second, this is gonna be like, your opportunity to shine, without having to put in a workload.”

Have you ever been fisted before?”

“Just once. Not entirely.”

“One hand?”

“Yeah.”

“But you have some sort of anal experience, do you not?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ve taken it up the ass a few dozen times, and I’ve played with toys since I was about nine.”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t hurt anyone else, beyond what’s reasonable. Meaning, nothing that Leaves more than just a little bruise. I won’t eat shit. I can be a come dump. I like spitting or swallowing, it doesn’t matter. I love taking it in the ass, and I can also suck cock while doing that, it’s nice. Sometimes I really get into it, when I’m fully loaded.”

“Put that in her file,” the agent said to her assistant. “File it under conditions.”

Turning back to her appointment.

“Go on.”

“I don’t mind being slapped, clapped or trapped. I don’t mind being seen, like in public. I can bust at Least three loads. I’ve never done double penetration, but I’m up to try. I like to start off in an outfit, to get into my groove. I like for things to start moving slow, and then to get faster. I don’t enjoy scenes in cars, especially not in traffic. I get car sick, and then I get scared that I’m going to choke, that his cock and the smell of the Leather in the heat and the smell of his ass is going to make me vomit. I love doing scenes in baths, and also in public toilets, in gyms, saunas, and even airports. I’ve never done a scene on a plane, as in, a real plane. Well, once I did this amateur video. But that was nothing. Just for fun, nothing more.”

“Have you ever had an anal orgasm?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I’ve been training to be a slave, so I’ve been totally sissified for some time now.”

“Are you in permanent chastity?”

“I am.”

“Who is your master?”

“Master Ro.”

“Are you in permanent elation?”

“I am. I’m always plugged. Even when I sleep.”

“What status do you carry, in your present state?”

“I’m a certified conceptualized a-grade sissy, meaning I’ve two thirds the way to being a full time cockslut whore.”

“What will you do with your experience?”

“Well, I like writing, I love reading. I like going for walks, riding horses, playing cards.”

“What kind of stuff do you read?”

“A lot of science fiction. Some early Zahreddine, like The Apple Orchard. I love Scene with Two Friends and a Bike, and I love The Myth of Causes.”

“That’s quite impressive.”

“Do you have any anal fissures?”

“No.”

“Would you mind some?”

“Permanent?”

“Temporary, but short term. Two weeks to two months, tops.”

“I don’t mind.”

“What’s been the greatest source of shame in your life?”

“Like a moment or a time or something in specific?”

“Anything, it can be a source or a moment.”

“Can I think about it?”

“We need your answer to conclude the examination and close the casting file.”

“When my brother was in the hospital, I wasn’t there for him, I never went to see him.”

“Thank you,” the agent said. “You can wait in the hall. Make sure to take your things as well, and your complimentary blanket and film by Tai Rhodes.”

“Thank you.”

He stepped out into the hall. Marwa was waiting for him, with his bag.

“So, how’d it go? Great?”

“I think it went alright. They said they’re going to discuss some names over and call us back in, in a bit.”

“Great. Here are some things to look over and sign. It just basically says all of the footage is totally ours, and that if you have lied on your medical records you are liable in court and to penalties accorded by the state, and her recruiting members, and that you consent to an anal swab and a penile swab and a swab under your tongue, and a blood test right after. This is done to make sure you haven’t been drugged by us, it’s really a protection. Since it’s a weekend, and a holiday, we don’t have to file the blood test for three days, so if you’re too shaken after the workout we can postpone the test until then, and you come in when you like. Okay? Got it? Great? Do you want me to get you something to eat, in the meantime? They have some toast sandwiches in the back. They’re from a deli, down the street. It’s not that good but it’s alright. I don’t know. Are you supposed to be on a fast?”

“I shouldn’t eat carbs, yeah, or any fibers. Or anything other than a fruit, I guess. Do you have any oranges? Or just cold carrots. I can cut them up and have them with lemon and salt.”

“I’ll bring you something, I’ll bring you something. Worst case I send someone down the street to get you a bite. There’s a small little market and they sell take away. Here’s the changing room. Look over these papers, sign what you understand, and try these on. I’ll be back, alright babe? Yalla tschuss.”

 

He felt in that moment total presence, knowing he had been there once before. He watched her handle the sheets. She spoke without looking over at him standing over the bed. She went about her business mindfully, like she had done it a thousand times, a hundred times that day. She probably had. After clearing the bed and the sheets and replacing them with new ones, recognizing the confusion, or the interest, in his native stare, she spoke calmly. I never trust these rooms. He stepped forward. The sound of a bed creaking next door. Hollow banging on the ceiling. He looked to the side of the room and found a mouse trap lying in the corner. He found another trap just like it beside his legs, and another on the other side of the room. He looked dover and through the open window, barricaded with steel bars, but a breeze breaking through the slits in the tiling. A cactus hung in the balance, resting on the windowsill.

“You can sit down,” she said, taking a seat at the edge of the bed.

She stood from her place, turning around and walking toward a cabinet by the window, where she pulled a bottle of scotch from the top drawer. She moved her hips from side to side, to resuscitate his interest. He didn’t budge. She spoke without turning back around.

“The night is ours. We have time.”

He must have stayed there, in his position, a few hours. He must have dozed off, because when he awoke, he noticed he had been sleeping in an infantile position, still at the foot of the door. She had remained by the bed, had shaken off most of her clothes, had drunk more than a few sips of the bottle. The room smelled of fresh smoke. She obviously hadn’t been sleeping long. He turned his attention to a bedside table, where Poems by Chaucer lay under a few ruffled up bound books. Above the table, a portrait of an elderly tribesmen brandishing his sword stared back at him from a diamond frame. Fake diamonds. He thought he could hear her snoring. He craved the taste of a cigarette. Interrupting his mind’s wandering, her voice rose to startle the room.

“Do you want to start with a foot massage?”

She had risen from the bed. He hadn’t noticed her moving, nor had he noticed himself rising from his position by the door. He stood directly facing the portrait, and she directly behind him.

“Is everything alright,” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Don’t waste my fucking time.”

“I was hoping for something to happen,” he said, in a quiet voice.

“Well,” she said, “it helps to try.”

He turned around to look her in the eyes. She stood naked before him, half her body drenched in shadow, the other half illuminated by a glowing red light dangling from the ceiling of the room. A strong, reddish hue slipped curtains over her eyes and deep shadows under her breasts. Her right hand, pulsating large, rose from behind her back and slowly stroked the head of her erecting cock. She stroked slowly, staring at him from behind a shield of darkness.

“Do you want to know something,” she says, her voice suddenly low and coarse. “You won’t always be this way.”

She knew that he liked her, that he wanted to stay the night. she knew he had chosen her room because she had something the others didn’t. Something he craved, partly because he wanted it for himself. If he could climb in through the window, shielding himself form the curiosity of the others involved, he would have spent every night in her arms. She liked him too, because he was soft. She liked him, because he was a little ashamed, embarrassed, and he stood away from her in awe and silence. He watched her stroke her erect cock, colluding between reverie and hesitation. Finally, he spoke.

“Did they assign you a name,” he asked.

“They tried,” she said, “returning to her female voice. “I’m not very obedient, as you can tell.”

She spoke in a vibrating pitch. She sounded different. Like she had submitted to his game, like she had pulled him into her song and submitted to his game.

“On the bed,” he said.

He felt in that moment that he had been there before, he had been there for sure. He watched her turn slowly onto the bed and dig her face into the sheets, raising her ass so that it stood at the high peak of a slope stretching from her exposed anus to her nose. He walked over to her ass and stroked it with his thumb. He bent over and kissed the anus, protruding and receding in anticipation.

“Are you going to fuck me,” she asked, in a dry and vibrating tone.

He slapped one of her cheeks, and then the other. He pulled her from the hips toward his body. He bent over again, sticking his tongue as deep into the ass as he could. He licked her, up and down the length of her back, cradling her hard cock in his hands.

She moaned. “I would remember if you had been here.”

He spit into his hands, rubbing the tip of his rising cock. He teased the outline of her ass, rubbing it with his erect self.

“Fuck me baby,” he heard her say.

She was too tight for him to fully penetrate without using force. She started to squeal, in her foreign way of expressing with the convex mirror of her voice. He pulled at her fingers, crucifying her on the bathroom wall, digging his face into her neck as he pushed methodically from behind her. She tried kissing him when he had finished, wiping his semen all over her neck, but he refused. Out of mercy, out of cruelty. He left her in the bathroom. She thought of masturbating but it wasn’t any use. Soon there would be a knock at the door, and she would be found out and shamed. If not arrested. Turning around to leave the hallway, he found a pair of hands reaching out from an underlying opening, at the height of his waist, penetrating deep into his stall. He crossed through it like he was cutting through a tower of weeds. He knew she wasn’t putting it on, that she really wanted to be fucked. He could tell by the blood pumping into her restless cock, the protruding and receding of her wet anus. He stroked her gently. He reached into his mouth and pulled a blade from behind one of the molars. A small blade, that fit between two teeth and his gums. He pulled the blade down to her body. He wanted to stroke her with the blade but then she would know. He resisted, with difficulty. Finally, after she fell into a fit of pleading, begging to get pounded in the ass, he meticulously brought the blade down to her cock, pulled her penis backward with his left hand and cut a straight line along the edge of the skin that connected the thickening cock with the balls. For the briefest moment, she hadn’t made a sound, her body reacting slowly to the reality of her wound. But with the eruption of her nightmarish scream, he had no choice but to pull her neck toward him, and slit open her throat. Returning his attention to the flooding wound of her cock, he sliced it open further, pulling out both of the testicles from their gloves. Her body, stuttering in its final living breaths, flopped into a lump on the floor, a vibrating bang churning at the sound of her head banging against the wooden surface. He walked over to his pants, where he pulled a small bag from one of the pockets, and put the two testes inside.

He put lubricant on his fingers.

“Do you want to sit on my lap, babe? I can finger your ass.”

“Whatever you want, baby. I’m here for you.”

“And you baby. I want you to have fun too.”

“Of course I’ll have fun sweetie. When I pleasure you, I rejoice.”

“Do you want to sit on my lap?”

He flipped her on her side, one leg dropping to the side of the chair, the other, wrapped around his lower back, her knee just under the clutch. He forced her body forward, her head resting on the dashboard stuffed, her ass hanging languidly before him, parting her cheeks with his sweaty hands, slobbering over her sweaty anus, moving the slant of her thong.

“I like your ass, babe.”

“You like my ass?”

“I like your ass, babe.”

“Suck my ass, baby. Suck my ass.”

She thrust her hip against his wanting face. For a moment, he was stunned, waking to the smell of her scrotum, her languidly hanging balls. They hung in the air like bats, draping from leaves like corns. After some time, he felt like he had had enough.

“Your cock is also nice.”

“I don’t use my cock, baby. Do you like my ass, baby?”

“I like your ass…oh, I know, baby, I know…I know what you use, baby….I know what you like…Come, sit on daddy’s lap, baby, hmm, sweetie, come to me, let’s play the games you like…What do you like to play, baby? Hmm? Come here, baby, wrap your lips around daddy’s cock. Do you like my cock baby? Huh? You like my cock?”

“I like your cock, baby.”

“You like my cock?”

“I like your cock baby.”

“Suck my cock, baby. Yes, good.”