You're shoved into the artist called Zed's front basketball pants
pocket. He zips it shut sealing you inside the mesh pocket. Then he
starts jogging and you discover to your horror that he's going
commando. His stinky schlong whacks into you, or maybe its your pocket
that's swinging. As you think about it, it's probably both. Worse yet
the bastard's cock is getting harder as he runs. Young horny guys you
shudder as you think about it, and what he might do.
Now he's totaling tenting his pants as he runs. and somehow your
pocket ended up draped over his erect penis, and your body is now
pressed against his sweaty tight balls. His wiry pubic hairs thrust
through mesh openings like twisted rebar or maybe industrial cable and
jab at your hard plastic body. You wonder if they will scratch your
finish. Odd thoughts. You must be dreaming.
Zed stops running and you feel him reach up under his crotch and
scratch his balls. You bang heavily against the heavy laden testicles.
What if he cums? You'll be drenched. Yuck. He starts running again.
Then you remember seeing another artist's so-called work. It was a
crucifix in urine. Then there was the guy who put dead animals in
acrylic or lucite. You suddenly have a vision of yourself in a Mason
jar with cum up to your neck. One of your plastic arms is stretched
over your head. You're on display in a museum or art gallery. Then
you see an old classmate, and then some others, apparently on field
trip. They look at you, and then your best buddy says, "Man, that's so
gay." You'd agree but you're just plastic and can no longer move.
All you can do is stand there in Zed's preserved bodily fluid in the
airtight jar and stare at the people staring back. Suddenly, a glimmer
of recognition. "Say doesn't that look like - nah, what am I
thinking?" your buddy says turning away to look at the next exhibit.
You are really scaring yourself. But that's Zed's job. The pants are
trapping the heat and sweat radiating from the giant's crotch. You
feel like you're in an old sauna. The masculine musk is overwhelming.
Sweat covers your body. You're plastic so the sweat is dripping from
Zed or maybe is the dampness condensing on your cold plastic skin.
Either way it belongs to Zed, and you have a growing feeling that so
do you. He marked your building the way a dog marks his territory,
and now he's taken you as his own. It feels a bit like romantic
destiny, if only he was a she. You tremble, and to your horror the
giant cock and balls you're pressing against responds with a jerk.
"OH, MAN!" moans the giant loudly, "I MAY JUST CARRY YOU AROUND THIS
WAY FOR A FEW DAYS, BEFORE I WELD OR MAYBE I SHOULD GLUE YOU. AH, OH<
YEAH!"
He stops, you hear a chain rattle. A gate screeches open and shuts
with a clang, and then the chain rattles and there is a click. Now
the giant walks. He pauses. He goes up steps with you bouncing all
the way. Then he's airborne. He lands on his back and bounces. He's
jumped into bed or maybe a on a sofa. His hand tightens on his crotch,
and he starts jacking off. NO!