Mitchel started to stir awake. His head was still foggy, and he could barely see through the fuzzy cloud that covered his eyes as he came to. And although he was barely conscious, he could feel movement around him. It felt as if someone was pulling at his clothing. At first he tried to bat away whoever was pulling at his pants, but it didn't do anything. He tried to get up, but his body was still reeling from the drugged fruit. A firm hand pushed against hist chest and he slid back down. He blinked, eyes rolling in his head as he tried to get a fix on whomever was at him.
Mitchel heard the tell tale sound of his belt being unbuckled and felt the swift movement of it being slip out from his pants. He heard it clatter to the floor. Then he felt someone unbuttoning and unzipping his pants. Someone started to pull them off, he felt the fabric brush against his legs and then heard them hit the floor. By now he realized someone was trying to undress him. At the frightening thought of being drugged and raped, Mitchel attempted one more time to get up and fight off whoever was trying to undress him.
"No...." he moaned as he drunkenly sat up and tried to kick at the rough hands that brushed against his legs. The same rough hands pushed him back down, hard. Mitchel lay on the table, tossing back and forth lazily. He didn't have enough strength to put up a real fight. He could only lay there, moving sluggishly. His eyes tried to follow the shadow of the man who was undressing him. He saw the shape move from his legs, around the table and to the other end of the table, where he took Mitchel's arms and pulled his woody right off. His arms flopped back to the table before he felt the man tugging and pulling his black t-shirt.
"Stop...." Mitchel moaned through his shirt as it was pulled over his face. As the shirt came off, Mitchel fell back to the table, moaning. "no..." His muscles felt numb and weak. His body drugged. It was obvious he was drugged because he would have been wide awake the minute he felt his pants come off. No, his body was poisoned with some toxin that kept his mind clouded, his body numb and sluggish. He was laying on the table, in an black undershirt and bright blue boxers. However, those last didn't last long. Like his previous articles of clothing, they were taken off and his naked body lay on the cold wooden table.
He felt rough hands rubbing against his chest, trailing down to his stomach. They grasped his member and Mitchel moaned. He didn't want to be taken advantage of, but there was little he could do. Fortunately he hands let go of his limp cock and continued trailing his body. Mitchel tried to roll over, but was pushed back to laying on his back. He heard a voice, someone, a male, talking about his body. How his stomach was too flat, his muscles too small, chest not firm. It wasn't his fault he was drugged and was a mass of flab.
He heard footsteps and felt something prick his chest. He grunt and felt a numbing sensation run through his body. What was going on? His cock was hardening. It was getting stiff as a rock. Hell, he his entire body felt stiff. Someone came into few and he stared dully at the Caretaker, who held another syringe.