Artwork (c) 2006 by JohnD
The carriage drew up at long last to a large, brown building, which had once been a mansion for a rich man in the past. "Here we are, gentlemen!" the cab driver called to the passengers. "Dr. Mannbender's Sanitarium."
Charles stepped from the cab as dapper as he could, and a great deal more debonair than he felt. He looked at the sanitarium with eyes of both dread and hope.
Simon was close behind him, the two men were as alike as two chess pieces, the same black waistcoats, the same checkered vest over white, starched shirt, the same stovepipe hat on top of their heads. If they weren't quite bandbox in their appearance, that was due to their long train ride, the additional ride of over an hour in the carriage which had picked them up from the station, and it was now early afternoon and they'd had only a rather perfunctory luncheon at the station which had been interrupted by the arrival of the carriage. So Charles felt mussed, dirty, achy and exhausted. Just the right way to feel upon entering a place that was supposed to invigorate and revitalize their bodies and re-energize their minds in this year of 1870.
A man wearing a snow-white uniform came out of the door to greet them. "Mr. Whitcombe, Mr. Farningham?" he said to Simon and then to Charles. "Please come this way."
They were shown, to Charles' immense relief, to their rooms, two small single bedrooms that shared a bathroom as a small suite, with a common sitting room joining them all. "You may settle in. An intern will come at three o'clock to take you for your initial evaluations and therapy." He gestured to the clothes laid out on the bed. "Make sure you are unpacked, bathed and in these clothes, and only these clothes, at that time." And with that, they were left alone.
Charles consulted his watch. "It's two thirty-five already!" He said, scandalized. "We won't have time to catch our breath!"
"Relax!" Simon was more at ease, he'd been here before. "This is a sanitarium. Relaxation is a part of the therapy."
Charles was achy and irritable after the long journey. "They could have given us an afternoon to settle in."
"We'll spend the next two weeks settling in." Simon clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll unpack while you shower and then we'll trade off. Let's move!"
Charles smiled, shrugged inside and nodded outside. The shower was fully stocked with scented soap and large, fluffy towels, but he'd expected that. This was a luxury sanitarium, after all, he was paying enough! A thousand a week for this sanitarium...a scandalously high figure! You could buy a business for that much!
The clothing they'd left for him was simple cotton pants and shirt, no underclothing, and slippers instead of shoes, no socks. The clothing was loose and felt sheer, but when he looked in the mirror at himself, there was nothing of his body showing through. A medical examination upcoming, he decided to deal with it.
The interns arrived and Charles and Simon were taken to different offices to his surprise. What occurred at the doctor's office was about what he'd experienced at any doctor's office, he was told to strip out of his clothes, move about, breath deeply, turn and cough. The only oddity was the electrical device that the doctor started up and aimed a wand attached to it at his body. He flinched, but there was only the slightest tingling from the machine, and the doctor pressed it to various points of his body, reading off numbers which a male intern dutifully inscribed in the chart. After that, he was allowed to again don the minimal clothing he had been assigned.
Done, the doctor looked soberly at Charles. "Young man, your aura is very much out of alignment. We will institute a strict regimen of special massage and diet, and you must remain on this regimen diligently throughout your stay here. You will be asked to perform various unusual activities that are intended to realign your aura. Obey every instruction of your therapists and you will walk out of here a new man."
Charles hadn't expected anything like this, he'd come in part because of a slight unusual fatigue he felt at the end of a long business day, which he ascribed to the long hours at his desk, and an irritability that any harried executive could be pardoned for. He expected this time at the sanitarium to be more in the nature of a vacation. But the experience he'd just endured both cowed and frightened him. "I shall do as you instruct."
"Very good." the doctor consulted a gold pocketwatch and said. "We have time for your first session before dinner." To the intern, "Take him to therapy and we'll get him started." The doctor scribbled notes on a prescription pad and tore it off, gave it to the intern.
The therapy department was a series of closed doors, and he heard sounds of men moaning in pleasure and sometimes in pain all around him. One man's cries were unmistakable, and he said to the intern, "Did that man just have an orgasm?"
The intern barely turned his head. "The therapies to access and adjust the aura sometimes require sexual stimulation, yes, sir. Remember that these are all professionals, and the goal is to help you. There is nothing scandalous or prurient about medical necessity." he chided Charles.
"Of course, of course." Charles admitted. He'd read up on sanitariums and knew that their methods sometimes involve unorthodox therapies. He just hoped his therapist would be a buxom blonde in her twenties!
They reached the therapist for Charles and he was ushered into an office, to be confronted by not one therapist, but seven or eight! All of them were male, all of them were young and muscular, handsome and manly, and one was a gigantic bull of a man that stood a head taller than the others and a head and a half taller than Charles! Obviously the one in charge here, this man's hair was blonde, that was his only resemblance to Charles' hopes.
"Good afternoon, Mister Farningham." the man said. "My name is Yann, and I am to be your therapist. If you will disrobe and get upon the table, we can get started."
"Who are these other men?" Charles asked.
"They are my assistants and will help with the therapy. Please disrobe now."
Charles hesitated. "What kind of therapy."
"Different kinds of massage therapy." he said. "And the special diet."
"Why do you need all these men for massage therapy?"
"You will see when we have the therapy. You will disrobe now."
Charles noted the lack of the "please" on the third demand to disrobe, and knew he was about to lose his dignity here. He pulled the cotton shirt off over his head (it had no buttons) and stepped out of the slippers, pulled the string holding the cotton pants at his waist and they dropped to his ankles, and he stepped out of them and up onto the table. It was a massage table, padded and comfortable and warm to his bare skin. Yann (Charles didn't know how to spell the name, he just had the phonetic sound of it) and some of the men stepped up and Charles felt his body squirted with warm oils from several directions.
Multiple hands began to stroke his body, spreading the oil smoothly, but there were two hands that were doing the real job. Yann. He had his broad shoulders and thick biceps and ham-sized hands working on Charles' shoulders and back. The massage was too rough to be that comfortable, but his muscles did relinquish their tension and he found his pains and discomfort from the train and carriage ride of the day, and the many days of the office before that, evaporating like so much forgotten mist.
Yann got up onto the table with him, and Charles found to his surprise that Yann's body was as nude as his. He could feel the man's penis as a warm finger of soft flesh on his upper buttocks and lower back. But the man's rubbing actions were so intense that he decided the man didn't want to get the oil on his clothing and he made no comment.
Yann slipped further down and now the cock was fully on his buttocks. He was working on Charles' back down, the upper and mid-back and Charles now felt like soft putty in the big man's hands. The other men were rubbing his arms, hands, legs and feet, but he only really felt that big strong stud making his body feel like so much warm butter. He felt like he could melt and slide right off that table.
And that cock was now poking its head at his anus. Yann was at his low back and he said, "Now we give you special massage." he said and he pressed down on Charles' lower back hard, very hard. And as he did, he shoved his cock at Charles' ass and his sphincter, to Charles' surprise, dilated and allowed entry without so much as a quiver of complaint. All that warm oil, the relaxed muscles, the pressure on his lower back, it all combined to make the cock sliding in his ass feel like the most natural thing in the world.
"This is lower colon massage." Yann told him. "We massage you inside now, you like it, you see." And Yann began to move back and forth, firm, solid strokes that were definitely massaging his insides.
And the men who had been around him now pressed their own cock against his body, holding his arms out and his legs outward and he had cocks on his shoulders, on his upper arms, one in each palm, more on his upper legs, his lower legs, and two pressing on the soles of his feet. All of these cocks were lubed with warm oil, they were hard as velvet-covered rocks, and they were massaging his body with their cocks, and oh, God, that felt so good!
"You like the massage, yes?" Yann asked him, a husky voice in his ear.
"Yes, oh, oh, yes!" Charles murmured. "It all feels so good!"
"You take special diet now."
"Uh, uh, sure, sure!" Charles sighed. "Special diet."
One of the men who had been rubbing his shoulder pulled away and Charles saw the man's cock before his face, the hand pumping at it furiously and then it was being shoved into his mouth. The oil that was used on his body wasn't at all unpleasant, he guessed it was a form of olive oil or such, and his mouth accepted it as a lubricant for the prick to be shoved deep inside of him.
The man who had jammed it in him began to thrust at him with a frantic need filled with grunts of impending climax. Charles only had to close his mouth and hold on and the man did the rest, his moans rose quickly to a crescendo and he squirted a hot load of jizz into Charles' mouth, far enough down the throat to make swallowing it his only option.
Charles bore up under it, gulping down the thick, sticky mixture (he couldn't even taste it, the man's prong was so deep inside his mouth and throat) and then the man withdrew. Charles gasped for breath and had taken less than four or five of such when another man stepped up with his erect, uncut dong and Charles was again stuffed with a prick to suck on. This man allowed him to suckle at the man-meat and when he came, it was a slower, more luxurious flow and this time Charles' tongue caught a huge load of salty, flavorful man-jizz.
Yann continued to fuck his ass, his pace slowly speeding up, as man after man left off his "cock massage" of Charles' body and stepped up to feed his cock to Charles. All of them lasted in his mouth only moments, Charles was able to suck off all of the men who had been rubbing at him. His bemused senses counted a dozen such before they were all done, he had only remembered a bit more than half that many in the room when they'd started. Had they brought in more men while he'd been relaxing under the massage?
Only Yann was left and he said, "You are relaxed now, yes? You have plenty of special diet, yes?"
"Yes, yes!" Charles murmured. His whole body was churning with sensations like none he'd felt before. Sexual, yet somehow less...defined. He'd always felt such only in his cock, but this was all through his body without limit, running all through him.
"That good, I give you more diet now." Yann said and his hips sped up and then he thrust in deep and held it, and Charles felt the big stud's load pumping into his bowels. He'd been loaded with hot man spunk, his stomach was filled in a way his inadequate lunch hadn't given him, with what had to be a cupful or more of sperm, and more was in his ass and he had just been fucked by the biggest, hardest, manliest stud he'd ever seen! His body surged into climax at the feel of the hot spunk being sprayed into him and he squirted it onto the oil-slicked massage table.
Yann was breathing hard when he finished, but he said, "Now massage is finished. You rest a few minutes, then you dress and go to main lobby. Intern waiting for you there."
He got off of Charles and Charles obeyed the instruction to lie where he was. The big man dressed and then left. Charles lay there a bit longer, then got to his feet, rubbed the oil not soaked into his body onto a towel and then dressed, and went to the lobby where the intern was.
"How did you enjoy your massage?" the intern grinned. Charles suddenly realized that the man had been one of those who had gotten into line for a blowjob after rubbing on Charles' lubed body.
"I feel like a new man already." Charles agreed. "Now what?"
"The swimming pool for more therapy." the intern told him. "And some more lower colon massage." And the man grinned. "It's an important part of your therapy."
"Bring it on." Charles told him. Two weeks of this and he'd return to work, his body re-invigorated and his mind re-energized for certain. A thousand a week for Dr. Mannbender's Sanitarium was turning out to be money well spent, indeed!
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