Sam

Content Warning: Scenes of non-consensual sex, exhibitionism.

This story is a work of fiction. The author does not condone sexual violence of any kind. Please read at your own discretion.

Thanks for reading! This draft sat for a while before I finally got around to editing it. The next one, won't take so long!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Sam was a bit warm, even with the light outfit he had chosen. The heat of the summer sun was broken only on occasion by sharp gusts of wind rolling down the mountains.

Ice-bringer wind. Only a few more days until winter.

He was dressed rather plainly, and to the passer-by he would look no more than another young man enjoying summer's last show. With great care, he sat down on the rim of the fountain, a light flush bracing his cheeks, as he felt his undergarment (

if you could even call it that

- he thought) tighten against equipment it was not made to fit. His chest felt tight, and his heart sputtered along with nervous impatience. The sun was directly overhead, and still there was no sign of Val.

Hell, maybe he's not coming. Maybe he's just fucking with me one last time before he turns in that vial

. The pink flush deepened a shade at the thought of his peers watching what he had seen. Surely, there would be no coming back from that humiliation.

An odd sensation in his stomach brought his heart up into his throat. Sam stumbled back, catching himself by plunging one arm straight in the fountain. He righted himself and reached into his pants to find the source of the buzzing - a small grey stone tucket into the lace waistband. Just as it dawned on the wizard what he was looking at, the vibrating stopped. A voice bloomed in his mind. Sam cringed - he hated psychic communication.

"Sam, you didn't listen." the voice spoke in a calm and measured tone.

Val

. Sam's face danced from surprise to fear and to panic as his mind raced at what he could mean.

"Val, where are you, why did you make me--"

The drow, his voice rising, repeated himself.

"Samuel, I gave you an order. You have not obeyed."

Still, his voice carried such a weight of patience. Sam couldn't stop himself from hearing it as if gently spoken into his ear, a whisper from behind, calm as there was no question as to who was in charge. His heart had now settled into a dull thud, each beat pumping echoes of memory of the previous night. Sam looked around; there was no sign of the drow.

Plenty of people milling about, and tons of buildings, but no sick fucking elf.

Finally, he responded, holding the stone close.

"I did what you asked, I wore them... I wore the... panties." Sam stumbled on that last word, making sure no eyes suddenly snapped his way. None did, of course. One is never quite as conspicuous as they think.

"And yet I can't see them at all." Val replied, his tone taking on a toying quality.

"Well, I can't exactly show you if I don't know where you are, now can I?" Sam was beginning to think this was all a joke, to get him out and uncomfortable in the sun.

"Don't worry, I can see you. Show me what's underneath."

Sam's breath caught in his throat, and he let out a little hiccup. Was this what he had meant, what Val had in store for him, to flash the crowd? The panties had covered nothing, it would be as if he was completely nude, only also adorned with frilly pink undergarments. Suddenly he felt as if every eye was on him, waiting for a show. He took several quick paces out of the center square towards the awning of a small flower shop. A sparking noise turned him on his heels, and he saw right there above the fountain a whir of blue monochrome light taking shape. The crowd slowed and gawked, and Sam's divination began to play. He looked up and gave a cry, hurriedly shouting into the stone.

"Okay, okay! I'll do it! Please! I'll show you!" Frantically he began to unbutton his shorts. If he was quick, he could avoid too much of the distracted crowd taking notice. He shuffled away from the window of the flower shop. Meanwhile, he saw yet again the vision of the market at night, ethereal eyes gliding gently towards a single lighted window of a small townhouse. Sam took a deep breath, grabbed hold of either side of his shorts, and yanked them down. He felt the hot sun warm his bare thighs. Just before Mathilde's tits could be seen rocking back and forth, the mirage vanished, and Sam was left holding his pants at his knees, the pink garment clinging to his groin, packing his junk into a tight little ball decorated with a darling white lace bow. Someone gasped from inside the flower shop. Sam quickly pulled his shorts back on. He felt Val's voice invade his mind immediately.

"No, Sam. You don't understand. I told you to wear the panties. I did not tell you to wear the rest. Take off the other clothes and place them into the garbage. Shoes too. That is all. After that, you may go home."

Sam's fluttering heart dug its claws into his stomach, as if to hold itself within the boy's chest. No, Val didn't want him to flash the crowd. He wanted the young diviner to parade himself through the streets of Lyre, dressed only in a thin, lacy pair of panties. He froze. At his hesitation, the scene began to appear again. Adrenaline coursing, he forced himself to drop his shorts. More gasps echoed the square, as more and more eyes did now land on the sight of him. Soon, he was in nothing but his panties. Throwing his clothes into the nearest waste bin, he ran.

Fixing his eyes on the pointed spires of the university, Sam deftly navigated the streets. He quickly resolved to stop running, as that only brought more eyes to his scantily clad body. Those who did see him made sour faces, or jeered, or shouted various obscenities his way. Sam heard a piercing whistle from his left. He winced, glancing over at its origin, head sunken, hoping at least that it was Val, and he could sock the bastard for all this. Instead, he made eye contact with a grinning, pot-bellied tapestry vendor, out in front of his store to advertise to the passers-by. Much to Sam's shame, the man held the eye contact, and shouted a little too loudly, "Why don't you come on into my shop, boy? Might see something ya like!"

As he spoke, he dropped his hand to his crotch, and winked. Sam had the mind to think that, should he go along with this man's wishes, he would not be kindly draped in a bit of opaque fabric. Plus, Val was still watching. There was only one way out of this. Blood flushed his cheeks as he realized the comment had caught the attention of plenty more, who were now ogling the boy as if he stood spotlighted there. Someone shouted for him to go back to the brothel. Another shouted for a guard. Panicking, and not wanting to get himself into any more legal trouble, Sam broke again into a sprint. Another block passed, and finally he saw a deserted alleyway he could duck into. For the first time in far too long, he was out of sight. He paused to catch his breath, before creeping along the filthy cobblestone. He could feel the slime of alley refuse begin to coat his feet and was terrified of encountering a piece of broken glass, but at least for the moment, he was hidden. He looked down and to his dismay found that his cock had stiffened, breaking free of the underwear and standing proudly out the side. Sam's blood flooded his face; along the terror which seemed to seep from his very bones, he felt a sense of incredible arousal. He hated to admit that some part of him was enjoying this.

He'd long fantasized about strangers seeing him in the nude, being the observed instead of the observer. Ever since he'd begin spying on the nighttime activities of Lyrans, he would find some twisted part of his brain imagining himself on the other end of it, being observed without his knowing, titillating some creep. He would "accidentally" leave his windows open when he touched himself, and although he would never admit it, he longed for a pair of eyes to catch him in the act. Not that he ever would have done anything like this. Still, the adrenaline coursing through his veins was tantalizing, intense, addictive. He felt it like a shot of silver pooling at the base of his skull, the colors of the bleak alleyway dancing with the vibrance of the immediate threat. Buzzing in his panties interrupted this trance. Sam came back to reality and held up the speaking stone.

"Why have you stopped, Samuel?"

How can he still see me?

Sam's mind raced as a shot of icy wind spilled down the shadowed street.

If he was projecting, he wouldn't be able to speak, and if he was invisible, I should still be able to hear the sounds he makes...

Sam struggled to hold in a shriek of joy.

Invisibility!

In his embarrassment, he had not stopped to consider the situation as a puzzle. Val had only specified that he go home wearing only panties. He had not forbidden the use of magic! He considered the drow may be upset at this loophole, but Sam saw no other option: to continue as he was certainly would ruin his reputation. He didn't know the right spell to simply cast the enchantment, however. He would have to find a shop, and purchase (

with what gold?);

no, steal a potion of invisibility. Sam figured there should be plenty of Apothecaries around campus, and quite frankly this was his best bet at making it to his dorm without running into anyone that might recognize him. He did his best to calm himself, and replied to Val.

"Yeah, Val, I've stopped. I'm catching my breath. Don't worry, the whole world can still see my ass."

"Good boy. And you're enjoying it, aren't you?"

Sam blushed. He struggled to reply, "No! I mean, not like this..."

"Don't kid yourself, slut. You love this." At his core, Sam knew Val was right. But that didn't mean he didn't want to get home as fast as was physically possible. Val took his silence for affirmation, continuing, "And it's already nearly over, such a shame that you're so quick on your feet."

"Let me guess," Sam retorted, stinging from his tormentor's acidic tongue, "I'm going to get back to my dorm, and you're going to be waiting for me there. To fuck me again. And there's nothing I can do, because you've got that oil and--"

"No," the reply stopped Sam in his tracks, "once you're back, Samuel, you're home free."

The wizard certainly wasn't expecting this, and while it wouldn't be the first time his tormentor had lied, he couldn't help but be hopeful that Val's words were true. He took off almost at once, tucking the stone back into the small pouch of the g-string. Stopping at the far end of the alley, concealing himself as much as he could behind a discarded wine crate, Sam surveyed his path home.

The cross street ahead of him bustled with activity. The avenue served as an unofficial threshold to the campus, the closest street students could get to outside the strict academy rules. Naturally, this being the final week of good weather, anyone and everyone that could go pursuing the pubs and shops was doing so. Sam's breath quickened. The road ahead was packed, and he had no good way to know if someone among the crowd of students might recognize him. He imagined returning to school, seeing the faces turn to watch him, seeing reflected in their eyes the shame of his exposure. Surely even if no one recognized him, word would circulate, and someone would eventually catch on. He imagined his friends confronting him, even seeing him in this state... an unexpected hot desire engulfed Sam. He felt his face and his cock grow warm, and the latter strained against its restrictive covering. His hands crept absent-mindedly downwards and toyed with the tight lace cupping his package, stiffening his dick even more. It pulled at the string, which tightened against his asshole. He wondered if he slipped the garment to the side, and allowed his hand to stroke himself, if he could get away with it... after all, no one had paid this particular alleyway any attention to far.

Sam shook his head violently, snapping himself out of this trance. He had spotted an apothecary just a few steps down the road, a small, windowless establishment with a chimney of rising smoke, painted a purple hue from the alchemy within. Affixed to its front was a sign reading

PENELOPE'S CHEMICAL CREATIONS

, beset by a cartoonish rendition of a gnome mixing a cauldron far too large for her.

Unfortunately, the building was still beyond the endless flowing crowd. Sam racked his brain for some way to distract everyone, some way to cross the street unnoticed, but it seemed impossible. Beyond that, there was the matter of the shop itself. He had never been inside and had no idea if he would immediately come face to face with a bemused and angry security guard. Hell, he didn't even know if it would be open. What if he ran all the way across the street, only to pull at the door in vain, and be left there, in perfect view? It was too risky. He needed a way to scope things out undetected.

Astral projection in this state was difficult, but not impossible, and to Sam it seemed like his only good option. He didn't have any of the reagents which beginners use to aid in the trance, but since his goal was only a quick trip in such close proximity, he thought he could pull it off. After all, wasn't the goal of projection to be able to do so at will? He'd certainly had enough practice in his nightly escapades to attempt it.

The diviner got himself as comfortable as he could behind the wine crate. While traveling, his body would be completely vulnerable, and he had to count on the alleyway remaining clear of visitors. He knelt with his back against the wall and closed his eyes. Without the thick smoke to pull his spirit from him, he had to reach outwards himself, and doing so would cost a great deal of mental strain. He felt his spirit push and pull at the home of his body, unable to budge. A sweat broke out on his brow. He forced in as much breath as he could, trying with all his might to tear himself from his being, holding the image of the shop deep in his mind. He thought of Maerwyn's lessons, of the import of breath as both the connection and breaking point of the physical and the spiritual. Sam held his full lungs closed, letting his head go dizzy. When that was too much to bear, he let it out and inhaled in a drawn-out, controlled manner. With each breath his body relaxed more and more. He began to feel that strange looseness of the spirit detaching itself and, almost before he had realized it, he seemed to be standing up, amidst a crowd of people passing him, unaware of his presence.

Sam now could truly howl with glee. Not only had his plan worked, but he had become so good at projection that he could do so at will. The possibilities this raised! Certainly, he could look forward to much praise from his teacher. Glancing back, Sam checked on his body. It had unfortunately slumped to the side, and - he winced - his head was perched at a wicked angle. He would have to be quick, lest be in pain for the next fortnight. He dashed towards the shop's door.

The shop was open, at least judging by the pair of shoppers inside. A pair of Dwarven women were looking wide-eyed at the hundreds of concoctions lining the walls of the candlelit hut. They prattled about, chatting happily and gawking at the multicolored potions in delicate bottles. Tourists, they looked like, in a set of matching blue and green sundresses. A third woman, a Gnome behind the counter, seemed to be too occupied with her brew to mind what they were doing. Sam took some time to look around, and before long had spotted the shimmering silver elixir he desired. Perfect. These two women certainly won't recognize him, and the shopkeeper is doing an admittedly terrible job of keeping an eye on her wares. He couldn't have asked for a more perfect target.

Less than five minutes had passed, but Sam knew that time right now was precious beyond compare. He passed back through the door of the shop and glided back up the street towards his body. Something was odd about the mouth of the alleyway. The wine crate appeared to have moved slightly, and the wizard wasn't feeling the pull of his physical self. He hurried towards it. His body was gone. Sam began to panic. Beyond the embarrassing thought that someone had found him there, if he truly lost his body he would be stuck in this state. He looked around, eventually noticing what looked like drag-marks in the muddy path. He followed the tracks back up the alleyway, rounding the bend, and saw a sight laid out in front of him that froze him dead in his tracks.

Two goblins, a man and a woman, had hoisted his nude body up and over a small spirit barrel. The wizard's limp form slumped over it on his stomach, ass proudly in the air. Sam felt dizzy with shame and arousal. He stared agape, and he wasn't sure if his sudden immobility was fear, or shock, or the desire to see where this went.

"This whore must'a got a little too fucked up, eh, Mindy? Stumbled too far from the brothel!" The male Goblin chortled, one hand pulling a handful of Sam's ass to the side, the other gripping his partner's straw-colored hair.

"Mmm-hmmm, pro-bla." The one called Mindy attempted to say around the cock filling her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down expertly, eliciting the occasional moan of pleasure from her partner. She withdrew, the cock glistening with thick saliva. "All ready, dearie. Fuck her good, Fin, I think she needs it." Mindy guided the one called Fin's cock to Sam's hole.

Sam stared on yet has he watched the Goblin thrust into his helpless hole. Fin let out grunt of satisfaction and began to mercilessly pound into the wizard's body. The barrel creaked, and the sound of flesh against flesh echoed through the alleyways. Sam watched as his own cock grew stiff, as he stared at the assault of his body. He would be insane to stay still, to do nothing. He could easily return to his body, throw these sick fucks off of him, and run for it, but the couple referring to him as "her" had only entrenched his shock and stillness. What was he to them? Some girl from a whorehouse, who had gotten too drunk and wound up sleeping in the street? A cheap fuck become, by circumstance, a free one. To be used, abused, and left for the next lucky wanderer.

He was ashamed to admit that he was indescribably horny. His breath felt heavy and saw his skin flush as Fin fucked his ass. Mindy seemed quite happy to lick him up and down, coating his body in that same thick saliva while her fingers busily toiled between her legs. He watched as the Goblins toyed with him, making him (

her

) their plaything. Mindy slipped her pants down, shoving Sam's face between her legs and grinding against it, her face contorting in all kinds of pleasure. He saw Fin tense up, and pull himself deep inside the boy's asshole, shooting his seed into him. The Goblin pulled out, and his partner crossed to the other end, drew her long, pointed tongue up Sam's leg, and licked his hole clean of the cum dribbling out of it. She rimmed him for a minute before she had her own orgasm, and drew back, the pair of them satisfied.

"Man, she was good," Fin said as he quickly dressed, "easy to fuck, but still tight. I would'a thought that would wake anyone up!"

Mindy seemed a little hastier to flee. "Yeah, well, let's get out of here before she does." The two goblins scurried off into the busy streets, and Sam's body was left bent over and abused.

Finally, once they were out of sight, Sam returned to his physical form, though the dizziness did not dwindle. He found that his cock was rock solid, able to grow fully thanks to the panties being pushed out of the way. His hole burned, and more cum was leaking out and down his legs. His face was wet, and his nose filled with the musk of Mindy's pussy. Sam righted his stiff body, turned the corner, and stroked himself furiously to orgasm.