Take The F Train 1

NOTE:

This story features dark themes of public creepiness and questionable consent, and also indulges in some of what we might call "porn logic" around these unwholesome topics. Be warned!

All characters are over 18, fictional, and awful. No real life person should behave like them.

* * *

Niya leaned on the bathroom sink and heaved a great big melodramatic sigh.

Her own face stared back at her, as if from the --

ha

-- mirror universe.

Who's this weird version of me in the winged eyeliner and the cleavagey top?

She was supposed to get laid tonight. Her friends-slash-roommates (and where did you draw

that

line?) had taken Niya out to the club and under their collective wing for just such a purpose. They'd done her makeup and hair, and Hailey had even hooked her up with a fake ID.

Niya had made clear she wasn't interested in romance right now. This was to be strictly a get-it-over-with mission.

"With a rack like yours," Krista had told her to a chorus of giggles, "You can have

any

straight guy in the place eating out of your hand."

The plan was to pick out her guy on the dancefloor, bring him home by cab (with friend backup, for safety) and, if the vibe was right, invite him back to her room for the main event.

You were supposed to experiment in college, right?

Some girl was barfing in a nearby stall. Niya hated the club, the loud music, the high heels, the expensive drinks, the douchey guys. She'd begun the night nervous but excited. Now she couldn't remember why she'd agreed to this stupid idea in the first place.

She apologized to her friends, if they even heard her, and hurried out into the blessedly crisp, quiet evening, searching her phone for the quickest way to transfer to the F train from here.

Surprisingly, the subway app showed, not just a transfer, but an actual F train stopping at a station just a block away. Niya was sure the F didn't normally come through this neighborhood.

Stupid weekend construction is on my side for once

, she thought.

Inside the station, a temporary paper sign pointed her to the F platform, past a steel gate that was normally closed. The area beyond was dark and a little creepy.

She waved her phone over the turnstile. Nothing happened.

Duh. No scanners here. This platform must have been mostly out of service for years.

But there was a station agent in the kiosk nearby. A middle-aged woman peered down at her from beneath a tall wig, pursing her lips.

"I'm sorry," Niya said, looking all around, "Is there a reader I can use?"

"Hmm. Let me see you..." said the woman. "Cute nose. Amazing rack. Oh, love that skirt on you, honey... the way it hugs the curve of your belly and ass. Oh yeah. You'll do."

The security gate lock buzzed, and the station agent waved her towards it. Niya's eyes widened.

What the fuck was that about?

But a free ride was a free ride. Niya hustled through the gate and down the stairs.

The platform was empty.

Damn.

She must have just missed one.

But before she could even start looking for a bench, a light appeared in the tunnel. The distant sound of shrieking brakes approached, resolved iself into a train crawling onto the platform. The conductor's head poked out of a side window.

"This is a Queens-bound, right?" Niya called out.

"It'll take you wherever you most desire, honey."

"Queens," she repeated.

"Sure thing."

Relief washed over her. She'd be home soon, and out of these damn shoes.

"STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS, PLEASE."

It was a few minutes before Niya noticed an unusual statistical distribution among her fellow passengers.

They were all men.

Hotter than average, too. And better dressed. A few of them were brazenly checking her out, she was sure. That was nothing new. Her chest attracted plenty of attention from obnoxious dudes even in her typical less-than-revealing outfits.

In what she was wearing tonight, Niya felt uncomfortably like she was on display. Now that feeling only sharpened. Several pairs of eyes leered down at her -- dark and fathomless, blue and glittering, all with an intensity that made her shrink back.

Niya tried to ignore the way her clit warmed to the creepy attention. Just because these guys were weirdly attractive didn't mean they weren't bad news. She set a scowl on her face and stared at an ad for some sufficiently un-sexy lawyer.

The train groaned to a stop at the next station. The doors opened, and more men piled inside. And more.

Suddenly, Niya was pressed in on all sides by a wall of dude. She wound up with her boobs pushed up against the abs of a tall man in a blazer and dress shirt. From the look of his eyeline, he had an excellent view down her shirt.

"First time, is it?" he said, his eyes finally flicking up to hers.

Jesus, was that a guy's erection brushing her ass?

It should have been frightening and repellant. And maybe it was. But that feeling was duelling with something else. The one Niya had felt when she'd agreed to this night out. Nervous but excited. And, dammit, horny.

Apparently she

did

need to get laid, if being stuck in a weird train car full of creeps rubbing against her could get her soaked like this.

There was a charge in the air. And a scent. Not the usual musty odor of too many tired and unshowered people on a subway car, but something cleaner, purer, more masculine, shooting straight through her hindbrain and down her spine.

It took her back to lying on the floor in a hidden nook of her empty high-school auditorium, her head on the shoulder of some boy she'd been hanging out with. She hadn't been officially dating him, officially anything. Too shy and stupid. She's been so sure he was going to kiss her. And then...well, she'd have kissed him back. Maybe even let her lips wander downwards, to find out what was beneath the buttons on his jeans...

She had to get out of here.

"Excuse me, you're... kind of in my space," she said to the man behind her. It wasn't her imagination. That was definitely his hard dick pressing against her, from where the embarrassing figure-hugging miniskirt dimpled over her butt crack, all the way up to the small of her back. A good long way, huh?

Don't think about it!

"This is the F Train, honey. You'd better get off if you don't want to

get off

."

Niya squeezed past him, past his smug little grin, between the closely packed men, making her way to the door leading to the next car.

Her fingers closed on the door handle. Through the window, she could see the next car beyond. There was a man kneeling on the floor, sucking another man's cock. People had their phones out, taking pictures and videos of him.

A larger hand covered hers.

"Careful," said the man behind her.

He pointed to the sticker affixed to the door:

Riding or moving between cars is prohibited

The train was slowing again, and Niya shoved her way to the exit. The men were too close-packed to really part for her, but they made no move to stop her from squeezing through.

She burst out onto the empty platform.

Where the fuck am I?

The skyline was all around her. She had missed when the train had gone elevated. But if she was on a bridge, there were no girders around the platform, no suspension cables.

Just down the platform was a little enclosure, and she hurried towards it.

Maybe a signal operator's office?

The door was ajar, and, inside, little glowing lights winked at her. She pushed it open, and ran right into a tall, thick man in a bright orange vest.

"Whoa there, ma'am! Slow down!"

He put his arms around her, steadying her. Then he drew back slightly and regarded her.

"Where am I?" Niya said, leaning into his oddly comforting embrace. Jesus, she was shaking.

Station speakers crackled to life.

"YOU ARE BEING HELD MOMENTARILY BY THE TRAIN DISPATCHER."

"Shh," he said.

He led Niya back out onto the platform. The train was still here, doors open.

At the end of the platform was a stairway heading down into mist. An exit.

Niya looked towards it, then back to the train. One of the men she'd been squished up against a minute ago quirked an eyebrow at her.

She thought about going back to her roommates. They were all probably pissed at Niya for blowing off the big night they'd planned for her.

She thought about the political-science paper she didn't want to work on. The paintings she had to bring to her next critique that she could barely stand to look at. The part-time job as an art assistant for a rich sculptor who treated her like a servant.

She thought about that boy who hadn't kissed her in the auditorium. No. The boy

she

hadn't kissed. Because she'd been worried about...what?

Feeling as if she were in a trance, Niya boarded the train. The doors closed behind her.

Tall figures in finely tailored suits pressed in all around. Eyes leered down at her.

The train sped back to life. The sudden acceleration staggered Niya, pressing her into a man's chest. His fingers clasped her arms. She could feel her nipples pebbled against his abdomen, rubbing againt him with the sway of the train.

She backed away, which resulted in a cock pressing against her hip.

Long fingers threaded beneath the spaghetti straps of her top, stroking her shoulder.

"What's an innocent young thing like you doing on the F Train?" said one of the men.

Niya's heart raced, but she remained still. The man behind her trailed his fingers down her shoulders, feeling for where her breasts were half spilled out of her too-tight tank.

"Innocent?" said another. "Look at this wet, needy little cunt."

The man in front of her made straight for her nipples, reaching down and rolling them between his fingers through the thin cotton shirt and the bra that was the closest thing to "sexy lingerie" that she owned.

A finger touched her chin, guiding her face up into the hot breath of a kiss. More hands were on her now, feeling for her bare midriff, tugging her skirt up her hips, straps down her shoulders, pulling at her nipples, caressing her hair, snaking along her inner thighs.

Instinctively, Niya shut her legs against the intrusing fingertips, even as she found herself responding to a stranger's kiss, parting her lips to him, letting his tongue tease her teeth.

Suddenly unnerved again, she wriggled out of their grip and slipped through the crowd, hands whipping past her like bracken in a dark forest. Niya came face to face, or really, boobs to face, with a seated man. She had to make an effort not to tumble into his lap, grabbing awkwardly for the overhead pole.

For his part, he reached up for Niya's breasts and tipped them easily out of her disarrayed shirt and bra, weighing them in his palms.

"Incredible tits," he said, taking one brown nipple into his mouth and the other between his thumb and forefinger.

Another man's fingertips had found the embarrassingly wet crotch of her purple hose.

"I bet she's got a nice tight cunt."

The hose was sliding down her thighs now, and fingers -- two different men's fingers, she guessed from the way they moved together -- slipped inside her.

The man sitting in front of her dropped his mouth lower, kissing her navel through the bunched up tank. His hands gripped her hips, thumbs pressing greedily into the soft flesh that swelled out around the waistband of her skirt.

Then his mouth drifted still lower, his nose ruffling her coiled pubic hair, his lips wrapping around her clit, and --

oh god

-- that was his tongue, hot and wet and forceful.

This time, she parted her legs wider, letting out a moan.

The train was slowing again.

My stop

, she realized with a pang of -- disappointment?

But... she didn't have to exit here. She could walk from the next stop.

Or the one after

.

The doors opened. A woman was waiting on the platform, adjusting her earbuds and zipping shut her purse. She came face to face with Niya through the window, and her eyes widened.

Niya could see her own reflection faintly in the glass -- a man's face buried in her crotch, her arms gripping the pole for dear life, bare breasts swinging as fingers and tongue danced in her cunt.

Niya flashed the woman what she hoped was a grin.

The woman glanced into the packed train, then stepped back and sat on a bench as the doors closed once again.

Then Niya's legs turned to jelly as she came, and this time,

fuck it

, she did allow herself to tumble into the lap of the seated man.

He held her trembling body in a strong grip, and she kissed him, tasting herself on his lips.

The guys, of course, crowded in around her, touching her face, her tits, her still-shuddering cunt.

Something was rising between her legs, and with only a squeak of pleasure, she allowed the man with her come on his lips to lift her up and lower her onto his cock.

It felt shocking. Weird. Amazing. Hot. Like nothing else. She felt her body stretch around him, and keep stretching. She hadn't realized how

big

he would feel.

I could get used to this.

The men sitting on either side of him had their fingers on her clit as he began to pound her. She let her voice loose now, wailing and moaning, not caring what she sounded like.

A man was kissing her on the lips, and she squeaked into his mouth as a pair of teeth bit down lightly on her nipple. The man fucking her began to slow his strokes, and Niya felt a strange new warmth inside her. Was that his come, filling her?

Fuck.

He pulled out, and she felt a following trickle from her cunt. A long finger replaced him inside her, curling against her inner walls, almost seeming to meet the one still circling her clit. She came again, body rocking, leaning her head back against the shoulder of the stranger who had just taken her virginity.

Hey, how about that?

she thought.

I did it.

And she was about to do it again, she realized as those big hands lifted her into the lap of the man in the next seat, the one who had been nibbling and sucking at her nipple.

He rubbed the head of his cock around in the come (his and hers) dribbling from Niya's cunt and down her ass crack. Then he lowered his well-slicked cock from her pussy and pressed it to her other hole.

"Oh!" she cried out in his grip as she realized what he was doing. "Uh..."

He paused, his cock teasing her puckering hole. She wriggled there momentarily, uncertainly, anticipating some agonizing pain of entry -- but he just held her, as hands and lips continued to touch her all over.

Finally, gritting her teeth, she shifted, letting her weight sag into him, and with a grunt of satisfaction he pulled her down onto his cock. If a man filling her cunt had felt big, this felt enormous. Niya was sure she would burst.

But that was nothing compared to how she felt when the man in front of her stepped forward and set his own dick to her cunt, sliding in to join the man beneath her.

He leaned over her, hands pressed to the glass behind her head, and began to fuck her in a steady rhythm. All the while, the man taking her

other

virginity pushed slowly deeper, and she was shocked to realize what she had felt before had only been the tip of his cock.

Now, he really began to fuck Niya's ass, in strokes that seemed to strike sparks against the cock of the man in front of her, his parted lips close to hers, hair hanging down around his face. It was almost painful to be so filled, something that pushed at the edge of her endurance even as it thrilled her tingling nerves with an indescribable satisfaction.

When they parted from her, she could feel three different men's come dripping down her ass, and a wave of heat rolled through at the thought of it. This was so fucked up. She didn't want it to end, and there seemed little chance of that.

Niya had another man's cock wrapped in her fist now, and, catching his eye, she guided it to her lips as another man pulled her into his lap and slicked his erection into her sopping hole.

She savored the new taste of pre-cum, and of the velvety skin around it. Her head was buzzing now, on far more than just the couple of cloying cocktails her friends had ordered her at the club. Strong arms were rocking her hips again, pistoning her body up and down around another dick. It was hard to concentrate on the one in her hand, though she made a wobbly effort to lick and kiss and suck at it.

Her distracted first-ever attempt at a blow job was apparently not enough for the stranger, because he soon took control -- fisting his hand in her hair and forcing Niya's mouth down around his cock in his own time.

Eyes watering, she maintained her hand's grip on him, mostly keeping him from hitting the back of her throat. Even just the first few inches of his length felt like an enormous intrusion in her mouth. Could anyone really swallow down the whole thing?

Drool was running freely down her softly bludgeoned lips, wetting her chin and fingers. The slickness must have loosened her hold, because when the man next to Niya grabbed her wrist, he easily tugged her slippery hand off of the cock in her mouth. He set that hand to the base of his own erection, and her fingers tightened around it automatically. But she didn't have much time to consider further action before the man clutching her by the hair, freed from any obstruction, began to fuck her mouth ruthlessly.

It was all Niya could do not to choke as the man used her virgin throat like a cocksleeve. She simply hung on for dear life -- her body undulating in the grips of the two men fucking her.

What was she doing here? How the fuck had she let things get this far?

All the while, men continued to gather close around, hands touching her all over -- caressing her body, kneading her tits and plucking at her nipples, stroking her clit.

She ought to be struggling out of their grip. Escaping. Calling... the cops? Yeah right.

Help! I'm a slut!

But she was so close to climaxing again. Her body sang, shrieked, called out for more. But no one was touching her clit right now, and her own hands were busy, wrapped around a pair of unseen dicks. She realized her mouth was momentarily free.

"Let me come," she managed to whine, sounding pathetic in her own ears. But the plowed through the embarrassment. "P-please."

She hadn't even noticed when the last man had shot another load of come inside her cunt and lifted her over to the next man's lap. Her thoughts were blurring along with her vision. Suffering and pleasure were mixing together, shame and indignation warring with a kind of elation. Every nerve stretched to its limit, every hormone swimming in her bloodstream at once.

A hand moved between her legs again, finding her clit, and within moments, orgasm shook her and popped her open like a bottle of seltzer. A wail escaped her lips, and she did not try to suppress it.

Then a second man began to fuck her mouth. Her gag reflex was dulling against the onslaught, making it easier for her to take, but her throat still ached, and tears ran freely down her cheeks. She looked up into his eyes, silently pleading for mercy. He smiled down at her, and for a moment she thought he might relent, but he simply went on using her for his own pleasure.

I'm nothing but a set of warm holes for these men to fill with come.

The humiliating thought burned like a brand inside her skull -- and what was more humiliating still, it only seemed to sharpen the greedy pleasure of her cunt, wrapped tightly around yet another cock, milking it for every droplet of come, every ripple of electric friction.

The man using her mouth buried himself in her until Niya's nose was pressed flat against his pubic mound, ticled by the little hairs there -- and held her there as he moaned his own orgasm, forcing her to swallow every drop before allowing her to gasp for breath again.