Story of Unreality - Permanent Paralysis - Second part: Jo, What a Night

You're walking around without paying attention, and a curse falls upon you. In the private pools, the girls strip their bodies to the sun. Don't take a wrong step, don't take a wrong step, this is a school of heat. School of heat, Radio Futura. "But do you want to rape me once and for all, you damn queer faggots?" This is the phrase I never thought I'd think, but it seemed the most natural in the present circumstance. At this moment, I was bent over at the waist over the back of the sofa, my ass and legs stiff in the air, and my face hidden behind the furniture, where all the dust accumulates, my face crushed against the wall, and my nose slowly cleaning the accumulated dust on the upper edge of the baseboard. Understandably, my humor was quite bad. To add to the indignities, Josechu and Agustín (the two active ones with harnesses), who were now talking calmly sitting on the floor, leaning against the other sofa, had thought of the joke of taking some plastic flowers from a vase on the condom table, and they had rammed them into my ass, with which I was now the atypical flowerpot man, and no one seemed to be in a hurry to deflower me. Which I would have appreciated, because within this situation of sleep paralysis so overwhelming, it was the only thing that was somehow positive. If someone had at least fucked me, that would have been a gain. The first thing I was going to do when I regained the gift of movement was to strangle the damned DJ. Neither the bears with harnesses nor even Romualdo's bastard. He was playing a sampled arrangement of "Fiesta de los Maniquíes" by Golpes Bajos, in such a way that it repeated the chorus with a sample: "Fiesta de los *QUEERS*, Fiesta de the *QUEERS*", with a hoarse voice, over and over again. Surely all the queers on the dance floor, drugged to the top, were laughing non-stop, but judge the joke it made to me, in my present circumstance... I had also meditated in my mind, when the paralysis would be lifted, for whom I would file a complaint for non-consensual sex. Maybe for Josechu and Agustín, who had fucked me, but clearly they had taken me for a puppet. For Romualdo's damned bastard, for leaving me stiff with a clean hit of pills, but I swallowed the pills myself. To the club for not monitoring that people get sick in their establishment, but they're not going to put an inspector in the dark room to watch that people don't take too many pills. In the end, the culprit always turned out to be me, for listening to such a moron like Romu, and letting myself be led to his eternal traps. I wasn't really going to file any complaint, in the office I haven't even come out of the closet yet, I think I'll do it slowly and gradually, depending on how I go in it, and coming out with a complaint of rape and drugs in a gay club, well, it's not the most discreet thing in the world. Until now, things had gone quite well. Josechu had fucked me in the ass, quite inconsiderately thinking I was made of latex, with a big and...