occasionally subtle

Love Begins
taylor price
Not today Justin
EXPECTATIONS
Cosimo Galluzzi
RMH
noise dept.

roma★

pixel skylines

Game Changer & Make Some Noise

oozey mess
KIROKAZE
Keni
YOU ARE THE REASON
No title available

No title available

#extradirty
Monterey Bay Aquarium

shark vs the universe

seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Lebanon

seen from Chile
seen from Brazil
seen from Uruguay
seen from Venezuela
seen from Ukraine
seen from Brazil

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Netherlands

seen from United States
@whenicumnow
NEW COMIC “GOZZ in EML”
Hello!!
I started distributing NEW COMIC on PATREON!
But this time I am particularly confident! All 36 pages, packing belly deformation, spawning, semen vomiting to normally group sex and etc! Gozz is the main this time. It was developed greatly from the previous 3 pages short comic. Anyway it is a rich content, so please have a look! There is nothing special to say! Read and read!! I am waiting for opinions and comments!
THANK YOU!!
(Incidentally, PSD data distribution will also start from this month. I’ll be happy it help you. And this month’s free archive is [Reward No.02 Comic pack “ZARK the SQUEEZER”].)
That knowing grin. A tad cocky. It comes from knowing that many of the best looking soldiers walking around on base have unknowingly lost their cherries and absorbed a load of his cum deposited deep up their butts. As a doctor in the military, he loves his job.
Soldiers are required to submit to frequent physicals, and he has full access to their psychological profiles. They are so fun and entertaining! He has a database set up with each soldier’s sexual orientation, and key factors from their profiles. It comes in so, so handy!
Gay soldiers are easy. When he wants to get laid, he just shows up wherever they are on some pretext or another. As a doctor, he is almost everyone’s superior, in a certain way. One way or another, it’s pretty much a given he’ll get his rocks off.
He no longer bothers with bi’s - he always feels like they’re trying to decide whether they are enjoying being fucked or not, or else comparing him to some female. Ick.
He also doesn’t usually bother with pure straights. There are fewer of them than you might think. Secure in their sexuality, they simply don’t enjoy sex with men and so are rarely any fun at all. That would just be sadistic rape. Of course, if they’re a whopping 10/10, or one of those smiling studs that are charming and dumb and made of midwestern beef, then he might make an exception. Who wouldn’t? But he gives them a horny-happy-time shot, first. They really get into it, then. Quite imaginative. He’s got some great, great recordings. And they never remember. They just leave with a strong sense of satisfaction and a job well done.
No, he prefers the studly straight/closeted homophobe, who actually deserves to get fucked.
Still, no matter the orientation, when an appointment for a good looking soldier comes up, he first turns on the hidden cameras. Once the soldier is inside the soundproof examination room, he locks the doors. The doctor then always makes them strip. He finds soldiers are usually proud to show off their army-built biceps, their chiseled abs, their hairy pecs, their strong thighs, even their firm butts. Smiling, or not, they stand naked against a blank wall for the obligatory “progress” photos taken by the doctor. Front and back. Once saluting “at attention” and again with legs wider spread and arms behind back “at ease.” And one from behind with legs spread super wide as they bend over and touch the floor.
“Did you take your enema tablets last night?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Any problems?”
“Had to sit on the toilet all morning, sir. Otherwise, I’m fine, sir!”
“Okay. I’ll first need a urine sample. Regulations require that I hold your penis to make sure there’s no cheating. So I’m gonna grab your junk and aim it into this bottle. Understood?”
“I guess. Is this really necessary, sir?”
“Army regs are army regs, soldier!”
For future reference, he always makes a cryptic mark in the soldier’s files if their cock twitches as he holds it.
After, they proceed to the examining table, where the examination proceeds as per normal unless the doctor has selected the soldier for special treatment.
For those selected soldiers, the examination table is short; the soldier’s butt is almost completely off one end. The short length practically forces a soldier to use his tight abs to lift his legs. The soldier then obligingly and gratefully puts his legs into the stirrups extending from the table. This allows him to keep his balance without effort and relax his torso. The stirrups are supplied with quicklocks. Once the weight of the leg and ankle pushes down on the stirrup, a padded metal strap flips over the ankle and prevents its release except from the outside. They are sort of like handcuffs but more comfortable, and leave no marks no matter how hard one strains against them.
Blood is then drawn. The doctor knows which soldiers are clean, but both urine and blood samples are always tested for standard health components as well as for STDs and drug abuse.
The soldier readily puts his arms overhead, following orders as always, and feels his wrists going into the same type of padded quick-locks. In this way, the soldier has quickly and voluntarily gotten himself essentially spread-eagled.
“Looks like you’re scheduled for a stress test today,” the doctor informs the soldier. He attaches the necessary wired pad and electronics to monitor the soldier’s heart “for the stress test.”
In doing so, the doctor takes a few moments to play with the soldier’s pits (”Any strain in your armpits, soldier?”), tweak his nipples (“Can you feel it when I do this?”), and examine the soldier’s family jewels (“Turn your head and cough”). By now, the soldier is wondering what sort of stress test this might be. The soldier is told that it is “all in the regs.”
“Perhaps this will make you feel at ease,” the doctor says while taking his pants off. The soldier sees the doctor is wearing a surprisingly unclean, moist, well-used jock stretching around what must be a good size package. The bulging pouch, surrounding the doctor’s cock and balls is regulation army green. However, darkened zones on the sides of the pouch tell of sweat accumulating over a long period of time. Darker spots in the middle indicate frequent piss and cum spotting, to those who know what to look for. The soldier is too surprised at the incongruity of a doctor wearing such a jock to say anything, though the soldier usually raises his eyebrows.
The doctor removes his doctor’s coat, removes his shirt, then puts his coat and stethoscope back on. In this way, he is still obviously a doctor, now with his cocky grin, but his hairy chest and pronounced treasure trail leading to a hidden, hairy bush can be seen.
The doctor then goes behind the soldier, out of the soldier’s sight, and removes his jock. The doctor likes to hear them beg, but this is this soldier’s third visit in as many months, and he knows this one’s a screamer. Prior to this one’s first visit, the soldier had been seen pushing around another shorter, hairy chested soldier, calling him a “fag” undeserving of chest hair.
The doctor requests: “Now close your eyes, open your mouth, and say Ah!”
The soldiers always do it.
The doctor quickly stuffs the soldier’s mouth full with the pouch of his jock as well as the part of the two bottom straps that connects to the pouch, where all the sweat seems to drain to. An experienced doctor, he’s always ready to give a jab at the right pressure point to make sure the mouth stays open long enough to get the pouch completely in. Long practice enables the doctor to quickly wrap the jock’s waist strap around the soldier’s head twice to prevent it from being pushed out. The soldiers usually start thrashing at that point, their helplessness first becoming clear.
Still, this is a necessary step for the doctor. It not only keeps the sound down, but it gets the soldiers used to the taste of the doctor’s crotch, whether they want to or not. Amongst other things, he personally discovered a side effect of the shot he will give the soldier later. The taste will be one of the items uppermost in the soldier’s mind, and the shot ties in the soldier’s lust to the taste in his mouth at the time the shot is given. (He figures no one has discovered this before as usually their is nothing in the person’s mouth at the time.) Repeated applications almost guarantee a soldier, no matter how straight, will develop an insatiable need to lick crotch, suck cock, and greedily and gratefully suck down every last drop of cum.
But that’s later. For now, he moves to the feet of the supine, thrashing soldier as the soldier yells into the jock gag, unwittingly helping to push the pouch that much deeper into the soldier’s mouth and ensuring a more thorough tasting and cleaning.
He bends the soldier’s knees towards the soldier’s chest. This allows him to then spread the soldier’s legs wider. By now, after struggling with the soldier’s gag, and smelling the fear and pheromones wafting from the soldier’s pits, the doctor usually has a raging hard on. Seeing the hard, pulsing cock, the soldier increases his struggles, developing a nice sheen of sweat over the soldier’s body.
He takes his doctor’s oath seriously: “First, do no harm.” So he uses plenty of lube, opening the hole up and getting the tight anal sphincter used to the idea of allowing something in the wrong way. The doctor has dildos and speculums to assist him. The soldier can only respond by yelling “mmmph!” to the humiliating position of having his legs spread wide and his hole opened as his saliva moistens the jock pouch giving him the full flavor of the doctor’s most intimate zone.
The doctor informs the soldier that the Army’s stress test is about to begin. The doctor loves watching the soldier’s face as he first inserts his cock into the soldier’s ass, making the popping of the cherry official. This is this soldier’s third time to lose his cherry, and reacts the same way each time. The doctor’s cock waits just inside the opening until it’s clear the soldier knows he has now had a man’s cock past his sphincter. Then he starts to slide in, watching the soldier’s eyes get wider as the impaling cock goes ever deeper up his rectum.
The doctor knows to take his time, to allow the soldier’s colon time to adjust. In the meantime, he likes to fuck with the soldier’s head.
“They all said you were a faggot, but I didn’t believe them until now.”
“Man, the way your ass sucks in my cock, you must be taking your buddies’ cocks all the time.”
“Yeah, like you never took it up the ass before. Stop pretending you were a virgin.”
“I gotta let the CO know he’s got a faggot pussy on hands. He’ll want to take his turn, too.”
“I gotta make a note in the records how much you like taking it up the ass.”
“Why are you struggling so? If you didn’t want cock, you’d close your legs.” (Not mentioning that the stirrups can not be closed by the patient.)
Being a doctor, he knows right where the soldier’s prostate is. “How does this feel?” he says, in a stroke he knows brushes against the man’s prostate.
“Mmmnnf” is all he gets.
“Better, or worse?” the doctor asks, giving another stroke at another angle. He notices the soldier’s cock involuntarily twitch and knows his answer. Soon enough, the soldier muffled yells have turned to muffled moans.
Within a few more strokes, the soldier is embarrassed to find himself hard. The doctor loves seeing the expression on their face when they realize they are actually enjoying their mistreatment.
The doctor, with a lasso-type neoprene medical device, makes a tie around the soldier’s cock and balls while neatly separating the soldier’s two balls. The device will keep the soldier hard as well. He checks the heart monitor: yep, increased heart rate. All normal.
The doctor takes out a camera and photographs the situation, barely getting a portion of his cock up the soldier ass, but including the soldier’s hard cock, exposed armpits, and jock-gagged face. He sees a stress spike in the heart monitor and feels some wild thrashing from the soldier.
And with the soldier’s hard cock seeking succor, the doctor now has a handle. With some more lube, he strokes the soldier’s cock. Eventually, precum starts to drip, the soldier’s struggles now appearing more like writhing in pleasure. The doctor makes sure to only edge and never let the soldier cum. The soldier’s increased heart rate is appropriately monitored by the machines. When the doctor suddenly stops stroking, the soldier, once moaning, begins to yell back into his gag.
The doctor looks up into the mirrored wall. He sees himself in his lab coat, his hairy chest exposed, pumping in an out of the well-built, good-looking soldier’s ass. The sight of the struggling soldier, his legs spread wide helpless to avoid taking the doctor’s cock, turns him on. He knows from experience it’s a view the hidden camera will catch perfectly, but watching it live he can’t help but start to rut. Faster and faster he fucks the hapless soldier. The soldier’s heart monitor shows an increased heart rate, the automatic blood pressure cuff recording blood pressure every 30 seconds. It just needs a little bit more….
“Oh, man. I’m gonna cum. You want me to cum up your ass?”
“NNNNNNNNN!” says the struggling, sweating soldier and shaking his head no.
“Y’know, if I cum in your ass, I’ll have to tell your superior you are a faggot pussy made to take other men’s cum.”
“NNNNNNGGGGGG!” the soldier repeats, louder.
“Fuck, man. This feels too good. I don’t know if I can pull out!” The doctor strokes the soldier’s still-hard cock, eliciting more pre-cum.
“NNNNNNNNN!” the soldier repeats, violently pulling against the restraints.
“Your ass feels too good. It’s like it’s trying suck me dry!” The doctor’s stroking is getting the soldier close.
“NNNNNNNNN!!!” the soldier again yells into the gag.
“Okay, I’ll stop stroking you!”
“NNNNNNN!” yells the soldier, suddenly humping and clenching his ass around the doctor’s impaling dick. The heart monitor blinking indicating peak stress (but within acceptable limits).
“I’m so close! Just let me get as far up your ass as I can get!”
“NNn!“
>thrust<
“NNn!”
>thrust and hold<
Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”
The last said simultaneously with the doctor’s “YEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSS!!!!”
The doctor pauses to enjoy the feeling of pumping his sperm deep into the soldier’s well-fucked ass.
Then the doctor lets out, “Oh, fuck! All the way inside you! Did you feel me spurt? I’ve never cum so much. Fuck! So deep inside you, too.” He takes a few more strokes, as if to make sure his cock is as deep as he can get it.
“Have to make a note that you like being bred like a gay whore. Fuck. Your ass is like a fucking cunt! Felt so good breeding you like a bitch. Now tell me, you really like getting all my sperm inside you, don’t you? Don’t lie to me. A fucking pussy is what you are. Made to take a real man’s cum. Aw shit. Never knew shooting inside a male’s ass would feel so good.
“I’ll just stay inside you so nothing leaks out…”
The soldier, dominated, defeated, stops struggling, his eyes watering.
The heart monitor records the recovery rate of the soldier’s heart.
The doctor eventually pulls his now-flagging cock out. The soldier’s special shot, already prepped, is soon administered in the soldier’s butt cheek. The doctor removes the heart monitoring equipment, taking time to play with and stroke the various parts of the soldier’s body as the sweat-soaked soldier half-heartedly writhes beneath the doctor’s touch. After 15 minutes, the side effect of the future oral/crotch lust has set. And now for the next 15 minutes, the second phase of the special shot makes the soldier happily compliant to any command.
It’s at this point the doctor can remove the gag and the devices holding the soldier spread-eagled. The doctor can now take more pictures, such as the soldier voluntarily lifting his legs with his abs, holding them open to expose his ass. Or a photo with an anonymous cock buried inside the soldier’s ass (the doctor’s cock chubbed up enough again to make it convincing).
Ordered to stroke as necessary to keep his hardon but no further, the soldier then has a few photo shots taken with him kneeling with a cock in his mouth, the anonymous cock naturally supplied by the doctor. After all, the doctor’s cock should be cleaned! The soldier’s nose goes down to the doctor’s pubes, as the doctor isn’t fully erect. The doctor’s balls still were plump though, thus making it appear the soldier has deep throated a hard cock. Despite the difficulty in smiling when having a mouth full of tumescent cock, the soldier obligingly does his best to follow orders; the soldier’s happiness that clearly comes across in the photo would convince anyone that the soldier is apparently happy and grateful to be taking cock. A few wider shots showing the soldier hard and dripping pre-cum were also taken.
“You’ve given me a urine sample, it’s only fair I give you one in return,” the doctor says. The soldier, still on his knees, is told to open wide and swallow down the flow continuously “as if you were a fully functioning urinal. Remember, always salute when a superior officer pisses or cum into your mouth.”
The doctor keeps his cock a few inches from the soldier’s mouth, so the close-up recording shows the piss stream entering the soldier’s mouth. The recording catches the sound of the stream hitting the soldier’s mouth and shows the full face of the soldier as he desperately tries to keep up with the flow. Towards the end, the doctor moves his cock back into the soldier’s mouth and says “keep swallowing, and suck out the last few drops.”
The soldier complies. Drained, the doctor pulls out.
He didn’t even have to ask before the automatic “Sir! Thank you, sir!” came out of the soldier’s mouth, making an excellent ending to the piss clip. “At ease, soldier,” he orders, allowing the soldier to finally drop his salute and stand up.
It’s almost time for the third phase of the special shot to take effect. This phase causes the soldier to pass out, then sleep for a half hour. When he wakes up, he will not remember anything of the past 2 hours. It is highly useful in many medical proceedings.
The still-dazed but happily compliant soldier is then told to sign some forms. They happen to be photographic waiver and release forms as well as malpractice waivers, though the soldier will forget having signed them.
With an eye on the clock, the doctor juxtaposes the nearby table extension (the stirrups weren’t really necessary) and the soldier lies back down. The doctor continues to stroke, kiss, tease, or otherwise play with the soldier’s body parts, a pool of the soldier’s precum pooling into his navel.
The doctor knows a few whispered phrases at this time will soak into the soldier’s drugged brain stronger than any subliminal message could. This soldier never wanted to wear a jock before! But items involving lust take repeated applications to stick, though. He bends down by the soldier’s ear and tells the soldier “You will dream of sex all night, but can no longer jerk yourself off. Instead, you enjoy looking at your fellow soldiers during PT, hoping to catch a glimpse of chest or armpit hair; you love the sight and smell of their sweat; you enjoy the way their PT shorts cling to their butts and balls; you love being naked around them, whether in the showers or in the can; you want them to like you; you find you can only get hard when you see a guys cock and balls; you dream about having your legs spread wide with some hairy-chested soldier sweating above you as you are fucked; you wonder what their face would look like as they start to cum deep up your ass; you wonder what their crotch smells like, and what their cum tastes like; you will not call anyone a fag, for when you think about it, you realize you are more fag than they are. Once you understand this, you will celebrate your understanding by getting your nipples pierced, and tell your doctor everything about how much you love cock.” The smiling soldier passes out.
The doctor then quickly gets redressed except for his jock. The doctor mentally noted just how well the stains had been sucked clean, but because now it is soaked with saliva, he puts his jock in a laundry bag. He decides to wear the studly soldier’s jock instead, after first spraying it with an odorless bacteriacide.
The doctor rapidly but thoroughly finishes the rest of the exam on the sleeping soldier. He removes the lasso around the soldier’s cock and balls. The soldier’s cock quickly becomes flaccid, while the balls, plump and tight, will remain so for some time. With a gloved hand, he rubs the pooled precum into the soldier’s hair, just for kicks. The sun will make his hair stiff and crusty soon enough.
This is also decision time. How to proceed?
He can’t do it too often, or the humiliation effect won’t be nearly as strong. There was that one time some other soldier was being a real prick to other men, particularly gays. So he’d installed an army-regulation chastity device on the soldier. (”Cock Injury. Must not get erect until further notice. Doctor’s orders.”) The horrified look on the soldier’s eyes was frickin’ hilarious. And that other time he completely depilated that prick of a soldier from the neck down (”Lice. Must keep his body shaved from now on. Doctor’s orders.”). He knew for a fact that neither of those two made it through their third communal shower before being turned into the barrack’s whore. However, the doctor decided this soldier doesn’t need such measures, or at least not yet.
Still, a fourth monthly session would likely make the soldier go erect whenever he was in the presence of a naked male. Oh, he wouldn’t be interested, but neither would he be able to prevent his erection. And the erection would naturally domino into his balls filling him with need. A fifth session would make him unable to cum unless a cock was fucking his ass. Often, he’d drop a hint to a platoon leader when such a soldier had been prepared (”Here’s a closeted one. should gag him first. But after everyone in the unit has a turn, he’ll be unable to help himself from taking cock.) He did owe that corporal a favor. Or he could turn this one into his personal fuck slave. Of course, if the guy didn’t come back for another 6 months, he’d have to start all over. What to do?
“Doctor? What’s happening?” the soldier mumbles, working his way up until he’s sitting up on the exam table.
“Oh, you fainted when I started taking the blood sample. Don’t worry, it happens to a number of men, particularly after working up such a sweat during the stress test. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Huh? Sorry doc. I have this headache. I can’t seem to think…”
“That sometimes happens after fainting. All your senses go a little funny. Here. I have some aspirin. It always works.”
“Thanks, doc,” replies the soldier. “You’re right. I have this icky taste in my mouth, too,” he says, quickly swallowing the aspirin with a full glass of cool water. “Um, how much more do we have to do?”
“Oh, we’re all finished. Don’t you remember?“
“Uh, not really. Frankly, I don’t remember much after walking in and talking to that cute receptionist chick.”
“Huh. Well, no matter. You’ll feel better shortly,” says the doctor, knowing that as the drug dissipates, it has a final kick. It will deliver a last, short-lived euphoria phase. It typically kicks in after about ten minutes.
“But let me repeat what I told you before, just in case. You came through the stress test like the stud you are. You complained about your ass being sore, but it is likely just from the enema. I looked at it and there’s no harm done. It should go away in a couple days. I put some white healing cream inside, so no worries in case you see any discharge. However, I’ve put down in your file that you should make a couple return visit for the next two months. We can go over the lab tests at that time as well. Okay?”
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Very good. If you have any concerns, just give a call. Until next time.”
“Sir? I want to tell you that you’re a really good doctor,” the studly soldier says as he gets redressed.
“Well, thank you, soldier.”
“Uh, do you see my jock anywhere?”
“You weren’t wearing one when you came in. I thought it odd, but figured you just wanted to get this over with quicker.”
“Ah shit, doc. I can’t remember. If it’s missing, I’ll get in trouble. Just got it from laundry yesterday, and it’s another week before I can go to the laundry and get a replacement.”
“Don’t worry about it. Things like this happen. Here,” the doctor replies, going to a cabinet where a single jock in a heat-sealed wrapper was present. He actually had a stack with several sizes in the back, but no need to advertise the fact.
“I happen to have a new one. Is this your size?“
The doctor knew it was, but cared to affect otherwise. The jockstrap really was new. After all, the doctor had cum onto it only once, massaging his spooge into the pouch to saturate it fully so that a telltale spot stain would not be evident. The soldier’s body heat and sweat would moisten the jock, the doctor’s dried cum would remoisten, and the soldier’s balls would essentially marinate in the doctor’s sperm.
With luck, the soldier’s full, unrelieved balls would start absorbing the doctor’s pheromones right as the euphoria stage hit. Experience had told the doctor this will result in an ongoing need for those pheromones to be replenished, thus speeding up the process of the soldier becoming the doctor’s eventual fuck and suck slave. The doctor would know when the time was right when the soldier, while being fucked on the doctor’s examination table, came free handed upon being seeded.
“My size exactly, doc. Thanks! See? It fits perfect - I can wear it all week. I’m definitely coming back to you for all my physicals!”
“My pleasure. Good bye, soldier.”
“Sir, yes, sir!” the soldier barks, saluting the doctor before leaving.
“How about that? He was right!” thinks the soldier, noticing his butt is indeed sore. “That guy is a true professional,” he continues, forgetting all about asking the receptionist out as he makes his monthly appointments for the next two months
As he opens the facility door to leave, he thinks, “I’m gonna see what I can do to get him a medal. And he’s not bad looking for a doctor. Man, I’m horny. I’ve got so much energy, I feel like I could spit fire! I’d better hightail it over to PT for a good sweat.”
As he starts to run across the base to where the rest of the barracks is doing their PT, he has one last thought: “Damn. How is it that this jock feels so good around my balls?”
Showing off the latest version of Whoromakafagadine. This is from the latest shipment that the police station just received. Known colloquially as “The Whoremaker,” when shoved up a man’s butt and followed by a deep seeding, it makes that man’s body develop a desperate need for fresh cum.
Of course, it can’t change the man’s orientation. That’s impossible, as many conversion therapists know and would admit if they were to ever tell the truth.
It also has no effect whatsoever on women.
Still, this latest version has many improvements over earlier trials. First, the size and shape has become more physiologically compatible. During an obligatory strip search in an interrogation room (naturally outfitted with all sorts of hidden cameras and one way mirrors), a man, already embarrassed about being stripped and having fingers probe his ass, won’t even notice something has been shoved up his bum. Thus, any reactions the man feels seem like they must be real and natural to him.
Second, once inserted up a man’s rectum, it only takes fifteen minutes for enough to be absorbed that the man is considered “cum ready.” The mans rectum will start to exude a type of lubricant, “getting wet,” and the man’s anal sphincter will open willingly to pressure. Oh sure, with his legs spread wide and “handcuffed” to the table legs, he’ll still beg not to be dicked as he feels his cherry about to be popped. He’ll still plead that he’s straight, shout out that he’s not a fag, and cry when he knows he’s about to be bred like a bitch and thus be a faggot cum dump from then on.
“No, please! Take it out! I’m no fag!”
“Oh, sure you are. Look how easy my cock slid inside you! You must really love cop dick. Bet you can’t wait for me to shoot all my little police sperm up your bum. Bet you speed on the freeway just so the highway patrol will pull you over and fuck your ass.”
“No! I swear! Oh shit! Pull out!”
“Here it comes boy! You’re about to get millions of cop sperm, all wearing their own little police badges, deep up your butt!”
“Noooooooo! Oh fuck. Unnh. Unnnh. Unnh?”
The difference is, thanks to The Whoremaker, waves of intense pleasure will go through the man in time with every spurt of cum injected in him. Thus, it’s far more fun for the cops to give the Whoremaker to a straight guy, as the fucking process won’t entice him, and he’ll become so confused about the pleasure from each cum load. And later, it’s more fun knowing that it’s a straight guy doing everything in his power to get someone to shoot their bare cock off inside him.
Meanwhile, while he’s still confused and bent over the table, that’s when the cops’ll make him swallow his first cop cock. He usually won’t even register he’s being a cocksucker for the first few minutes. Still, it’s in the cops best interest to make sure a spider gag is used the first time, for safety purposes. The gag reflex also becomes severely reduced. Eventually, the man will still try to avoid sucking that first cop pud as he’s called a fucking faggot until, with a firm hand on his head (and hands handcuffed behind his back), he’s made to swallow his first load of fresh churned cop cum.
“Fuck! I’ve never seen someone take to cop cock like this. What a fuckin’ faggot he is! He must really want to suck off policemen!”
“Nnggh! Gukkkk. Gukkk. Gukkk.”
“That’s the way, boi. Try to get all the way down. Get your nose in those police pubes. Show the man in charge you want to swallow his cum like the faggot you are.”
“NNNGGh! Guckkk! Gucckk. Gukkk.”
“That’s one hard cock! Looks like it's getting close! See how that policeman’s balls are all plump and tight? That’s your sign, faggot. Show the nice cop how much more of a real man he is compared to you. Bet you fuckin’ love drinking cop spooge, don’t you? Now, swallow it all!”
“Nggh! Guck! Glug. Glug. Glug. >Suck< >swallow< >swallow<”
The man’s body had learned to release waves of pleasure upon feeling another man’s cum, it also worked if the man swallows it. As the pleasure wave hits, the man, no matter how reluctant or virginal a cocksucker, will now do everything in his power to not spill a drop.
Without a word being spoken, when the cop lifts his leg and puts his shiny black boot on the table, the man will even drop his head down to lick off the two drops of semen that he’d missed, falling as they did from the first forceful spurt of jizz that slipped out out of the man’s no-longer-virginal mouth. That’s the cop’s final confirmation of a successfully made whore.
You’ll notice they constantly refer to “cop cock” or “police spooge.” They’ve found the constant references to men in authority helps train the man to seek out cops to get his cum fix, rather than hitting the neighborhood gloryholes. Particularly the straights, who are unlikely to know of a cum source, taking cop dick will seem to be the only way for them to achieve that intense pleasure.
A third improvement is the drug’s longevity. As long as the first load of cum hits the anal lining that has absorbed The Whoremaker within the first hour, the effects will last a month before wearing off. By that time, many men become so used to taking bare cock in both ends that they continue to do so out of habit.
The fourth improvement is greater strength, to go with greater endurance. The drug thickens the anal walls, while at the same time making them more sensitive. This means that the man’s ass can take any number of men without damage, yet still feel every inch of cock working its way inside. It is not uncommon for men to be taking over 20 cocks a day by day 5.
Which leads to the fifth improvement, which is greater addictability. By law, they have to release suspects within 48 hours, so they do. However, by the third day, the man who received The Whoremaker goes through massive withdrawals if so much as a day that goes by without a couple loads of cum placed internally. They almost always come back to the station, a desperate, horny, confused look on their faces.
When someone comes back irate, demanding “justice,” belligerent, saying they’ll sue or some such - they’ll simply be locked in a cell by themselves for 24 hours and not touched. Oh, no, there’s no pain, hallucinations, or anything unpleasant. It’s not that kind of drug. No, the drug simply ups the hormones. By the end of the next day, it’s like having been edged for two days after spending 6 months in chastity. Whether they be studly football players, the neighborhood bully, or just a really cute college stud, they’ll be actually begging to be fucked or to suck cock by the end of a chaste day. Desperately. It only takes a single day before the most uptight, conservative, asshole of a homophobe straight prick is readily agreeing to waive all rights and star in gay kink porn movies as long as a cop will fuck them, now!
And any thoughts of revenge magically disappear, just like a cock down their throat!
And after a week, withdrawal starts if the man has less than 10 cum loads a day. It’s amazing just how nice and courteous they become, (or with some cops, more arrogant, so that they get a punishment fuck.)
Often, if it’s been a hectic day at the station and no one could spare the time to fuck their pet Whore, the police will just jerk off into a glass so that the man can greedily drink down the needed cum. Always recorded, since it’s always fun watching the straight men go “Oh god no! That’s so gross. It’s so slimy,” all the while they bring it closer and closer to their mouth, a disgusted look on their face. They look like they’re about to cry as they can’t help themselves but bring the glass to their lips and slowly drink the contents down. The quantity of cum all at once sets off a domino of pleasure, and even gets the straightest of them to sport a hard-on in response to the pleasure waves, jerking themselves off as hard as they can by the time the glass if half gone. “No, please, no more…” yet they continue, obviously voluntarily, until finishing it off, often cumming into the glass themselves at the end, then greedily licking the glass clean. The dvd “Gokkun Fags” brought in enough money to keep all the patrolmen in bulletproof cup jocks for many a year.
It’s easy enough to tell if the man they’re using The Whoremaker on was straight or gay. If the man is gay, his cock will now get immediately hard as soon as he sees a cop’s cock. Any cop’s cock. The Whoremaker increases the odds of the gay man having a freehanded anal orgasm while he’s being used as much as by a factor of 10, particularly as the wave of pleasure hits after receiving a fresh injection of cum. The cops don’t really mind this. After all, having a man treat their cock and balls like they were the best out of everyone else’, and that their cum was pure ambrosia, would be an ego boost to any man. In fact, this very pill singlehandedly reduced police homophobia.
Besides, even after cumming, a gay man under The Whoremaker will just get hard again with the next cock. For kicks! they usually put a condom on the gay guy and make him swallow his own jism after. They’ll also put a note in his file, for the benefit of future cops, that he’s gay. From then on, after the drug’s out of his system, the gay man will usually find himself still being constantly pulled over by cops. He’ll have service the cop, often right through the window. Due to habit and memories, the gay guy won’t actually mind, as evidenced by the spreading pre-cum stain in his pants.
Of course, if the man is truly straight, he won’t get hard at all while being fucked or sucking cock, what with cocks not doing anything for him. He just wants, nay, needs, the payload - the cop’s spurt of cum. It’s only then his cock suddenly gets rock hard. Too late, though.
Oddly, though, while under the influence of The Whoremaker, a straight man will still get hard but be completely unable to orgasm around women. The police consider this a public service, as it is usually only then that those men realize what it takes to actually please the females they live with.
The straight man’s only chance at orgasm is to take cock, stroke himself and, if the timing’s right, he may be able to cum when the pleasure wave hits as the cop cum is shot inside him. Sadly, most straights can’t bring themselves to look like they’re enjoying being used. They plead not to be fucked or to suck, yet do nothing to stop it, only to beg the cop not to pull out when the cop cums. So it’s like a month of humiliation and abstinence for the straights, while staying perpetually horny. On film, it just looks like the straight man’s actually lying about not wanting cock - and as he so clearly enjoys the breeding part, it just makes him look like even more of a real faggot than the gay guys.
Bi’s, of course, fall somewhere in between. It was sometimes hard to tell the difference before and after when The Whoremaker was used - but the bi’s weren’t as automatically hard as gays, yet didn’t mind stroking themselves either. So, in order to get the right look of sadness, horniness, and desperation on the man’s face, the cops had to fall back on the use of a chastity device. Then, as The Whoremaker amped up the hormones and pleasure waves upon being seeded, the man would beg for cum, yet be unable to jerk himself off. This way, when they film him being fucked, it’s clear his locked-up junk is trying in vain to get hard as it flops back and forth in time with the thrusts. The locked, humiliated, often teary-eyed man is reduced to making desperate moans in rhythm to the fucking he’s receiving.
If the Whoremaker is used three months in a row, the effect is permanent. Those that receive “The Triple Whore” are usually the best looking men of them all, or the best fucks, or unusual cases, or they just fucking deserve it.
While the gay whores are appreciated for their enthusiasm and ego-boosting, if the police station’s gloryhole needs to be manned, they’ve found a straight convert is best for the Triple Whore treatment. The gay guys would otherwise cum themselves to exhaustion in a few hours, while the straights will hang in there all day; the pleasure waves are just long enough to be close to having an orgasm, but too far apart to let them typically achieve it, leaving them no choice but to voluntarily stay, satisfying one anonymous cock after another until after a full day’s worth of taking cock in both ends might allow them release. These straight Triple Whore studs are allowed to work weekends making gay porn, and get to even keep 90% of any net profit.
(Don’t worry. They do get paid minimum wage for their service at the glory hole. Naturally, if a straight Triple Whore male ever wants to have kids, it has to be by artificial insemination. But it gives all the men and the boyfriends of the women that work the free clinic a chance to fuck a good-looking man, all day, until the straight whore can finally deliver his “specimen.”)
Once, a new priest in town started making homophobic sermons. At least, he was one of the few that didn’t molest children. Still, he was asexual, so had no frame of reference to relate to anybody’s orientation. He was young, newly ordained, yet was incredibly handsome, nicely toned, the black hair and deep blue eyes working well with the black robes and white collar. When he walked, you could tell he liked going commando. More people started going to church to simply stare at his charismatic face. Still, his homophobia was causing unrest, protests outside gay stores, etc. So, being keepers of the peace, these two cops brought the priest down to the station for questions.
“Sorry, Father, everyone has to be strip searched.”
“Holy shhhhugar!” one cop said, upon seeing the handsome priest’s lightly hairy chest and legs, youthful bushy pits, six-pack abs, v-shaped body, and marked treasure trail. The two cops had to leave and jerk off, unwilling to force a priest. After 15 minutes and some discussion in another room as they ogled the priest’s body, they decided they’d simply coat an anal probe with one condom full of their cum. Meanwhile, they’d empty the other load in a glass of red wine so habitually guzzled by priests, telling him this wine had “more body.” Then they let the priest go, advising him he was sort of on probation and had to come back once a month for the next two months.
Long story short, by day 3 the homophobic sermons stopped. Any mention of gay sex gave him an immediate, painful boner, clearly visible in his priest frock. The priest, appalled at his seemingly spontaneous, unexpected, unwanted response to cock, confessed it all to the cops when he found himself returning to the station for some reason. He was ever so grateful to the cops when the cops explained the use and function of a chastity device, and how locking it on without him having the key would make sure he kept his vows “and do the Lord’s work.” He was so thankful, he got on his knees and personally thanked each cop in the station in the most intimate way he could and without a care in the world. He enjoyed it so much he couldn’t imagine how he ever thought of sex as sin.
3 months later, confessionals at his church had been segregated into men’s and women’s. (He had to bring in another priest to handle the women - he just kept falling asleep, otherwise. It didn’t matter to him if the other priest took to wearing headphones, listening to Steely Dan, as the women started rambling.) The men’s had lines at both ends, each line alternating and moving at a rate of one man every 5 to 10 minutes. The church had never had so many men come in to confession. Turns out, those on one side said their penance by standing up, the screen open at mouth level, putting their cock through “His Hole of Glory,”repeating the Our Father until their cocks shot into the unseen, but known to be handsome, priest’s mouth on the other side of the confessional wall. Those in the other line had to verbalized all their sexual thoughts until cumming in that always-tight, warm, priest butt. They then had to stay inserted and repeat three Hail Mary’s. Their cumming was the men’s sign that God had forgiven their sins.
At first, the priest thought censure by the other priests would happen. Instead, the studly priest had to set aside a specific day of the week to hear confessions from the other priests. They’d come from miles around to partake of this sacrament. He was even nominated to become a bishop after one such high leader gave his confession.
As he walked down the church aisle in his robes, if anyone heard the tinkling of the little padlock against the solid steel cock tube keeping the outrageously horny priest’s cock in check, they likely thought it was just his rosary beads.
After one confession, the priest delighting in the scent, sight, and flavor of a fiery red bush, the young man became appalled at what had happened. He happened to be captain of the local football team, and hated gays. So, after getting what would arguably be the best blowjob of his life, he started causing a scene right there in church. To his surprise, several men jumped him. One man in running shorts, dripping with sweat from his run when he decided to stop for a quick confession, went behind a pew to pull off his jock and use it as a gag. The other men nodded at the man. None of them wanted their wives to wise up, after all.
The same two cops in the above photo were the first to arrive on scene. They handcuffed the gagged man to take him away. In so doing, they noticed his tight, well-toned pale body, red hair, and sea green eyes. The slightest bit of light chest hair could be seen peaking up from the middle of the stud’s V-neck shirt. During the struggle to handcuff him, when parts of the athlete’s clothes rode up a little, they noticed a light dusting of red-gold hair on his freckled legs. A noticeable, but not excessive, treasure trail completed the picture. Not to mention a cute bubble butt. So, not a hairless twink, then.
As he was led to the police car, the gag was removed and returned to its owner, who came back out now happy and relaxed after having just given his confession. The man put the cleaner, but wetter, jock in his shorts pocket and continued his run at a leisurely pace.
Opening the car door, the cop on the left in the photo above said, “It’s been ages since we’ve had a handsome redhead at the station. We’ll see if the curtain matches the drapes during the strip search.”
“Faggots! You can’t fucking do that to me, man! I’m popular in this town! I’m the local football team’s captain!”
“Really?” the other chimed in. “I think you’re more likely to be a gay porn star, famous for being gang-banged and taking cock and cum up both ends by innumerable anonymous men, and for swallowing vast quantities of cum from Gokkun jars.”
That was such an odd thing to say that the well-built athlete was too shocked to speak. Just as well. Who knew these cops were prophetic?
Three months later, the local football team nominated the ginger as “The Bestest Team Captain Ever!” All he could say was Gluck Gluck Gluck as the coach’s juicy cock that was pumping in and out of his throat got ready to shoot as the signal for the team to start off another, 3-day, post-game gang bang.
Anyway, it turns out that this police station just hired a new rookie: dark haired, square jawed, cleft chinned, hairy chested, nicely toned arms, furry legs, deep tan lines. Arguably the best looking cop in the station. Likes wearing a stained cup jock beneath his uniform. At a recent cop pool party, he hung out in sandals and too-small Speedos, the kind made to stretch around and clearly outline a man’s cock and balls. The bulge also clearly pulled the swimsuit’s waistband down, exposing how his furry treasure trail blended into the top of his untrimmed pubes.
The cops feel he’s just a bit full of himself.
As can be seen in the photo, these good-looking cops have the solution to the rookie’s little attitude problem well in hand.
I’m straight. I swear.
It’s just that - Coach was kinda mad at me, see, since I’d been cutting practice and all. I was out partying more than I was thinking about football. All I cared about was girls.
So he punished me.
It happened so fast, I don’t even remember how it happened exactly; all I know is suddenly I’m being pinned down in the shower by my teammates, fully naked after practice. No matter how I scream and shout, they won’t let go.
Then Coach walks in, right - telling me how disappointed he was, saying I was letting the team down and everything. Humiliating me before the entire team. I tried to apologize, but they wouldn’t listen, Coach kept saying I needed to be put in my place - and before I knew it, they had put a cage on my cock.
Locked up my fucking dick.
Everyone laughed, took pictures, mocked my new accessory. I begged Coach to take it off, but he just laughed with the rest of them. Said I didn’t need my dick, anyway. Said I’d always been the one with the best ass on the team.
First, I didn’t understand what he meant. Just cause I wouldn’t be able to get laid or jerk off for a couple days wasn’t gonna change me. I figured Coach simply wanted to take my mind off the chicks, and focus on football instead.
And it worked pretty well. I just had to keep going to practice, and eventually, the man wouldn’t be mad anymore. Or so I hoped.
But days turned into weeks, and Coach still wouldn’t take off my cage. I was going insane, humping everything like a horny dog, desperately trying to get myself off. I humped my pillow, the bed, my bag - hell, even my roommate, when he was passed out drunk. But nothing worked.
Eventually, I turned up at Coach’s office, crying my eyes out, begging him to let me cum. It had been over a month since I’d even touched my dick, at this point, and I couldn’t take it anymore.
Coach just sat there, grinning at me with from behind his desk. He told me to strip down to my jockstrap, which I did, then forced me on my hands and knees.
“Suck my dick,” he told me, “Maybe then I’ll set you free.”
Now, I would never, ever, ever touch another man’s penis. Not for my life. But you don’t understand what it’s like, dude… I was so unbearably horny, all the fucking time, from the moment I woke up to the moment I dry-humped myself to sleep - I couldn’t focus, could only ever think about sex, which made me even hornier in turn. It was hell. I would do anything to rid myself of this nightmarish cock cage. Even if it meant giving my football Coach a blowjob.
So I did it. I put my head between the man’s thighs, and sucked on his dick the best I could. I tried to do it like all the girls did with me, but it was a fucking struggle.
After a while, Coach just grabbed my hair and rammed his cock down my throat, fucking my face with full force. He didn’t give a shit that I was crying and gagging - he just wanted to feel my hole. Just when I thought he was gonna shoot, when I hoped it would all be over soon, Coach pulled out of my mouth and told me to bend over his desk instead.
Then, I knew what he wanted.
All those comments about my ass, always telling me I was thicker than any girl he’d ever seen, always slapping my butt during games; it all made sense in that moment. I cried and begged like a little bitch, but he didn’t listen.
Coach pushed me over his desk, ass out toward him, and pressed his leaking boner at my entrance. He stuffed my mouth with my shirt to muffle my cries, then pushed into me without a sliver of mercy. And Coach was far from small. It felt like he was splitting me apart.
He fucked me long, and hard, and deep. The kind you see in porn, where the guy fucks the girl as if she is some kinda unbreakable toy. His hips slammed so hard into mine I could already feel them bruising. It went on, and on, and on, without the man ever reaching his climax.
His torso pushed me down on the desk, crushing me under his weight, knocking the air from my lungs. Everything hurt. My ass was burning so much, I thought I was gonna start to bleed, it felt like my sphincter was actually tearing more with every thrust.
But… when the pain faded, after maybe half an hour, and my tears had dried… it felt good. Really good.
The kinda good I had been missing for over a month now. My cock was trying to grow hard in its cage, and it felt like there were fucking fireworks in my ass. Instinctively, I started bucking my hips into Coach’s pole. He laughed.
“There we go, buddy,” he said, slapping my ruined ass, “Move those fuckin’ hips. Feels good to get porked by your Coach, huh?”
I was too far gone to remember I liked girls. All I wanted was more, more dick, more Coach, more and more and more until I would finally be pushed over the edge. He was right; I didn’t need my dick. My ass was making me feel things I’d never felt before.
“Ooohhh…. f-fuckk y-yesss, C-Coach…”
It wasn’t long before the man bred me, shooting a massive load into my guts. Not like that was the end of it, though. For the rest of the night, Coach had me in every corner of his office, pounding my ass for hours straight. I didn’t even care that my cock was still locked up. Coach’s dick was all the dick I needed.
That night, something changed within me.
I’m Coach’s bitch boy now.
I don’t really have a choice, you know. He’s the only one with the key to my dick. As long as he keeps me locked up, the only source of pleasure I have is my prostate - so I just have to make-do. Coach and my teammates fuck me pretty much every day, though, so there’s plenty of pleasure I get. I’d never thought I’d enjoy being a cumdump this much.
Everyone keep saying that if I keep being their good little slut, keep riding that dick like a champ, my penis is finally gonna get unlocked again.
But… to be honest, I don’t think Coach is ever gonna take off that cage. And… I think I don’t even really want him to, anymore.
These two had been friends for years. As they frequently did, one had just rented some straight porn, the other got out some lube, and they were going to have a good time getting off next to each other. Then the robbers came in.
Now, tied so close, it was like they were kissing. It was just too embarrassing, so they closed their eyes, even as they heard the sound of a camera clicking.
They tried not to think about the fact that they were breathing in each other’s scent. Little did they know their stress sweat made the smell stronger, while also releasing more of their natural, unscented pheromones as well.
And they certainly didn’t know there was a drug in the water they’d been granted prior to them being gagged. The robbers knew the drug to be a mild sedative. It was even used on children (especially cranky ones) and crying babies (much to the delight of society at large).
Typically harmless. Except when breathing in pheromones. By adult males. Of other adult males. There was no warning on the label, as the effect had not ever been considered. No one was considering such a drug to make people act gay, after all. There was no money or future in it. And there were too many steps that had to happen just so.
Consequently, no one knew that the drug, when combined with pheromones, stress hormones, and sweat, made a slight change to the part of an adult male’s brain dealing with eroticism. It did not change their orientation. That’s fixed by the time a person is four, as everyone knows. However, the drug made the person dependent on the other person’s pheromones to achieve orgasm. Not a love potion. More of a sex potion.
Still, after taking the drug, it took an hour of exposure to the other person’s pheromones to develop. Even then, the effect was only temporary, fading away in about the same time as the exposure to the pheromones, so long as the continuing exposure didn’t exceed another hour.
Alas, the police got an anonymous tip about four hours later (the robbers were nice guys somewhere inside).
Even then, as long as “nothing happened” within a day to reinforce the fragile reworking of their brain cells, the changes would still die off and the brains would go back to normal.
After the police untied them, questioned them, and did all the things uncaring, victim-bashing, donut-hungry cops liked to do, the cops left, saying “We’ll probably never catch the guys. We won’t even bother dusting for prints.”
After the somewhat traumatic experience and the humiliating comments they had to endure from the cops, particularly regarding their sexuality, these two straight men looked at each other. Refusing to cry like the grown, straight men they were, they relaxed just enough to give each other a sympathetic bear hug. As they stifled their sobs, they again breathed in the other’s stress scent and the accompanying pheromones. Neither let the other go as they both pulled back enough to look at the other. They saw each other’s teary eyes widen as, unable to help themselves, they moved close enough for a kiss. And just like in the photo, they closed their eyes.
Without a gag, they each opened their mouth further, delighted and surprised to find that the other’s tongue was as questing and probing as their own was. The additional input to their brains prevented coherent thought. Still clothed, they adjust their hardening cocks to point up. The two straight men began grinding their hard cocks against each other through their clothes They weren’t thinking.
Hugging, kissing and frottaging each other, they both cummed in their clothes.
The critical event.
Both were embarrassed.
The homeowner’s friend quickly left.
They both independently found they couldn’t get it up with women any more. Yet they certainly had no desire to be with a guy. “Eww!” they thought.
A week later, they got together again. Once they got within three feet of each other, they couldn’t stop themselves. There was no problem with their cocks then. They never even got their clothes off. Once again, they French kissed, and cummed in their pants.
Still embarrassed, the friend again quickly fled.
As they did not know about the drug in the water, there was nothing for them to connect it to the events they were experiencing, and thus seeing a doctor didn’t occur to them. In reality, it would not have helped.
Eventually, after the last time they cummed together, they went to the dvd rental store. They knew they had a little time before having to get release again. They admitted to each other it was the same store they each got their straight porn from. Not wanting to waste available time by changing clothes, they each realized they had developed a cum stain in their light-colored pants at the end of where their erect cocks would be.
As they went down the aisle, they each pointed out to the other some of their favorites. They both could tell that even their favorite hotties did nothing for their cocks anymore. They looked longingly at some of the covers. They were straight, after all, so it was what they really wanted. They didn’t know why the appeal was gone, just that they were desperate to cum, and only seemed to get hard around each other.
Thus they continued to the back where the gay dvds were, as they had agreed to do. They discussed alternatives amongst the dvds, not really having much interest in what they saw. Eventually, they agreed on several of them that each looked different from the other. If male/male sex was all they could do, they needed to see what it was they were supposed to be doing with each other.
They were quick learners.
The first time one fucked each other, the orgasm was so good, it was literally “mind-blowing” as “the little death” excited and permanently reinforced their mind’s new pathways.
They screwed each other silly all night.
Over the passing months, no matter how many times they did it, they conceded that even their worst sex together beat any that they’d had with their former girlfriends. The scent or taste of the other would get them instantly hard. They were soon unable to even imagine being with anyone else. Whatever knock-down, drag out argument they got into as they learned to live together always paled to how good the make-up sex was, their mutual orgasms always pulling them through.
They both loved the feel of wearing a tight cock-and-ball strap. But they enjoyed it most when it was connected to each other’s by a very short strap. Each move that one would make would tug on the other one’s junk. They’d both stuff one of their dirty jockstraps in the other’s mouth, using the waistband of the jockstrap filling in as a gag to hold the jock pouch in. They’d put their arms around each other, then handcuffing themselves while around the other person’s body. By then, they’d be so hard, all they could do was writhe against each other as every body movement tugged and pulled on their own cock and balls as much as their buddies. As they moved against each other, they’d work up a sweat, the scent of the two males’ bodies becoming stronger and bringing them both even closer to climax, until finally they screamed into their jock gag as their orgasms took over.
The first time, after waking up gagged and in each other’s arms, they learned to keep several sets of handcuff keys immediately handy.
One developed a desire to be tied spread-eagled face down on the bed, “forced” to suck the other’s cock as the other sat in front of the one’s face. Meanwhile, the other would use a paddle to spank the one’s ass until the one had sufficiently deep-throated the other’s cock. The concentrated sex pheromones in the other’s pubic bush, combined with rubbing of the trapped penis against the bedsheets and the spanking stimulation on the one’s butt, ensured that the one would cum just after the deep-throated cock began to spurt. The virile babymakers were happily swallowed down.
The other preferred to be on his back, have his legs tied wide and up, his arms tied wide, and be “forced” to rim the first one. The concentrated pheromones in the one’s ass would get the other hard and dripping, dry humping the air in rhythm to his tongue-thrusting up the one’s hole. Then the other would be hard-fucked while “forced” to suck on the one’s dirty jockstrap. The scent of the man’s crack on his nose, the flavor of the one’s crotch, the sound of the one enjoying his fuck, and the one’s expertise at finding the other’s prostate resulted in simultaneous orgasms for them both, the other’s being necessarily free-handed.
Knowing a good thing when they saw it, they were married together the following year.
Amongst other things, their gift registry included rope, bandanas, jockstraps, and miscellaneous bondage gear. Wonder why.
These two had been friends for years. As they frequently did, one had just rented some straight porn, the other got out some lube, and they were going to have a good time getting off next to each other. Then the robbers came in.
Now, tied so close, it was like they were kissing. It was just too embarrassing, so they closed their eyes, even as they heard the sound of a camera clicking.
They tried not to think about the fact that they were breathing in each other’s scent. Little did they know their stress sweat made the smell stronger, while also releasing more of their natural, unscented pheromones as well.
And they certainly didn’t know there was a drug in the water they’d been granted prior to them being gagged. The robbers knew the drug to be a mild sedative. It was even used on children (especially cranky ones) and crying babies (much to the delight of society at large).
Typically harmless. Except when breathing in pheromones. By adult males. Of other adult males. There was no warning on the label, as the effect had not ever been considered. No one was considering such a drug to make people act gay, after all. There was no money or future in it. And there were too many steps that had to happen just so.
Consequently, no one knew that the drug, when combined with pheromones, stress hormones, and sweat, made a slight change to the part of an adult male’s brain dealing with eroticism. It did not change their orientation. That’s fixed by the time a person is four, as everyone knows. However, the drug made the person dependent on the other person’s pheromones to achieve orgasm. Not a love potion. More of a sex potion.
Still, after taking the drug, it took an hour of exposure to the other person’s pheromones to develop. Even then, the effect was only temporary, fading away in about the same time as the exposure to the pheromones, so long as the continuing exposure didn’t exceed another hour.
Alas, the police got an anonymous tip about four hours later (the robbers were nice guys somewhere inside).
Even then, as long as “nothing happened” within a day to reinforce the fragile reworking of their brain cells, the changes would still die off and the brains would go back to normal.
After the police untied them, questioned them, and did all the things uncaring, victim-bashing, donut-hungry cops liked to do, the cops left, saying “We’ll probably never catch the guys. We won’t even bother dusting for prints.”
After the somewhat traumatic experience and the humiliating comments they had to endure from the cops, particularly regarding their sexuality, these two straight men looked at each other. Refusing to cry like the grown, straight men they were, they relaxed just enough to give each other a sympathetic bear hug. As they stifled their sobs, they again breathed in the other’s stress scent and the accompanying pheromones. Neither let the other go as they both pulled back enough to look at the other. They saw each other’s teary eyes widen as, unable to help themselves, they moved close enough for a kiss. And just like in the photo, they closed their eyes.
Without a gag, they each opened their mouth further, delighted and surprised to find that the other’s tongue was as questing and probing as their own was. The additional input to their brains prevented coherent thought. Still clothed, they adjust their hardening cocks to point up. The two straight men began grinding their hard cocks against each other through their clothes They weren’t thinking.
Hugging, kissing and frottaging each other, they both cummed in their clothes.
The critical event.
Both were embarrassed.
The homeowner’s friend quickly left.
They both independently found they couldn’t get it up with women any more. Yet they certainly had no desire to be with a guy. “Eww!” they thought.
A week later, they got together again. Once they got within three feet of each other, they couldn’t stop themselves. There was no problem with their cocks then. They never even got their clothes off. Once again, they French kissed, and cummed in their pants.
Still embarrassed, the friend again quickly fled.
As they did not know about the drug in the water, there was nothing for them to connect it to the events they were experiencing, and thus seeing a doctor didn’t occur to them. In reality, it would not have helped.
Eventually, after the last time they cummed together, they went to the dvd rental store. They knew they had a little time before having to get release again. They admitted to each other it was the same store they each got their straight porn from. Not wanting to waste available time by changing clothes, they each realized they had developed a cum stain in their light-colored pants at the end of where their erect cocks would be.
As they went down the aisle, they each pointed out to the other some of their favorites. They both could tell that even their favorite hotties did nothing for their cocks anymore. They looked longingly at some of the covers. They were straight, after all, so it was what they really wanted. They didn’t know why the appeal was gone, just that they were desperate to cum, and only seemed to get hard around each other.
Thus they continued to the back where the gay dvds were, as they had agreed to do. They discussed alternatives amongst the dvds, not really having much interest in what they saw. Eventually, they agreed on several of them that each looked different from the other. If male/male sex was all they could do, they needed to see what it was they were supposed to be doing with each other.
They were quick learners.
The first time one fucked each other, the orgasm was so good, it was literally “mind-blowing” as “the little death” excited and permanently reinforced their mind’s new pathways.
They screwed each other silly all night.
Over the passing months, no matter how many times they did it, they conceded that even their worst sex together beat any that they’d had with their former girlfriends. The scent or taste of the other would get them instantly hard. They were soon unable to even imagine being with anyone else. Whatever knock-down, drag out argument they got into as they learned to live together always paled to how good the make-up sex was, their mutual orgasms always pulling them through.
They both loved the feel of wearing a tight cock-and-ball strap. But they enjoyed it most when it was connected to each other’s by a very short strap. Each move that one would make would tug on the other one’s junk. They’d both stuff one of their dirty jockstraps in the other’s mouth, using the waistband of the jockstrap filling in as a gag to hold the jock pouch in. They’d put their arms around each other, then handcuffing themselves while around the other person’s body. By then, they’d be so hard, all they could do was writhe against each other as every body movement tugged and pulled on their own cock and balls as much as their buddies. As they moved against each other, they’d work up a sweat, the scent of the two males’ bodies becoming stronger and bringing them both even closer to climax, until finally they screamed into their jock gag as their orgasms took over.
The first time, after waking up gagged and in each other’s arms, they learned to keep several sets of handcuff keys immediately handy.
One developed a desire to be tied spread-eagled face down on the bed, “forced” to suck the other’s cock as the other sat in front of the one’s face. Meanwhile, the other would use a paddle to spank the one’s ass until the one had sufficiently deep-throated the other’s cock. The concentrated sex pheromones in the other’s pubic bush, combined with rubbing of the trapped penis against the bedsheets and the spanking stimulation on the one’s butt, ensured that the one would cum just after the deep-throated cock began to spurt. The virile babymakers were happily swallowed down.
The other preferred to be on his back, have his legs tied wide and up, his arms tied wide, and be “forced” to rim the first one. The concentrated pheromones in the one’s ass would get the other hard and dripping, dry humping the air in rhythm to his tongue-thrusting up the one’s hole. Then the other would be hard-fucked while “forced” to suck on the one’s dirty jockstrap. The scent of the man’s crack on his nose, the flavor of the one’s crotch, the sound of the one enjoying his fuck, and the one’s expertise at finding the other’s prostate resulted in simultaneous orgasms for them both, the other’s being necessarily free-handed.
Knowing a good thing when they saw it, they were married together the following year.
Amongst other things, their gift registry included rope, bandanas, jockstraps, and miscellaneous bondage gear. Wonder why.
[Previous parts: I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX]
Saturday night, 8pm
“Ready, boy?” I said, grinning at the bound jock.
Jake lay before me like a slab of beef, spread out on the table, naked and tied in chains. 240 pounds of grade-A college jock meat. His flesh bulged against his bonds, his manhood fully exposed and erect. I had the famous linebacker exactly where and how I wanted him.
He was trying to keep his cool, of course, but I recognized the terror in his eyes. The bitch knew very well what I was capable of. Or so he thought, at least. Jake hadn’t even caught a glimpse of my burning desire to hurt him. For the next twelve hours, I was going to make his world nothing but pain, pain, and more pain.
“Y-yes, sir,” the linebacker muttered. “I’m ready.”
I chuckled, and took his massive boner in my hand. No matter how scared he was, being tied up and exposed like this would always get the bitch rock-hard.
“Hmm… what should we start with?” I pondered, gently rubbing his dick. “Flogging, maybe? Needles? Electrocution? Candle wax? What do you think, Jake?”
My words were only worsening his fear, sending all sorts of horrifying images through my slut’s head. “W-whatever you want, sir.”
My grin widened. I walked over to the chest in the corner of the room, and grabbed a long, thin, metal rod. I returned to my bound jock, and showed him the toy.
“Have you ever heard of urethral sounding, boy?”
Jake weakly shook his head, following the metal pin with fearful eyes. He was so young, so innocent and naive. This was the last place a promising college stud like him should be spending his Saturday night - especially with his injured knee. But Master had made a deal with him, had jerked him off the night before, in exchange for torture. Right now, it was time for Jakey to keep up his end of the bargain.
“No? You know what the urethra is, don’t you?”
Again, the linebacker shook his head, blushing slightly. Of course he didn’t know, the dumb bitch. The only things he knew about were throwing a ball and tackling guys.
“You might know it as the piss-slit,” I grinned, taking his fat cock between my fingers. “One of the most sensitive areas of your body, if not the most sensitive. Urethral play can provide a great deal of pleasure, or be the source of a great deal of pain.”
I grabbed the bottle of lube, and squirted some at the entrance of his glans. Jake moaned softly at the feeling of my finger on his dick’s head, frowning at the metal rod.
“Wait - y-you’re gonna put that up my dick??”
My grin widened. That’s the reaction I wanted. The same reaction any normal, well-adjusted male would give when posed with this situation. Being penetrated in his ass was one thing; being penetrated in his dick was something he’d never even thought possible.
But he didn’t have a choice.
I brought the pin to his urethra, and slowly started inserting it. Jake watched in horror as I impaled his fat cock, pushing the thin rod into his piss slit. Inch by inch, slowly but steadily. The athlete was breathing heavy, clearly uncomfortable, but not in pain. Not yet.
“Look at that,” I snickered, when it was all the way in, “That monster dick of yours just swallowed the entire thing, boy. Does it hurt?”
He shook his head, but eyed his manhood with suspicion. I gave his shaft a couple tugs, loving the feeling of his thick meat in my hand, and he let out a frustrated whimper. He wasn’t hurting yet, but it was clear the stud didn’t like this.
I placed my finger at the end of the pin, and pushed slightly, making it tilt within his cock. Finally, the first groan escaped his lips. He felt the other end of the metal rod digging in the hypersensitive walls of his urethra, sending the first jolts of pain through his loins as I moved the pin in circles.
“I’m just stretching the duct, Jakey. You are going to take much more than this.”
The beefy linebacker complained softly, testing the chains on his wrists and ankles. I could tell how much he hated this already, having his cock invaded, but it only encouraged me to continue. When I felt I had stretched his urethra enough, I put the pin away, and exchanged it for a slightly thicker, curved one. The lower half of this rod was covered in bumps and spikes.
I brought it to the tip of his dick, and Jake gasped in pain as I started pushing it in.
“As you can feel, this one is bigger than the last one,” I said, watching his pretty face contort as I forced his cock to take the pin. “And it is textured, also. Can you feel the patterns, scraping the insides of your dick? Does it hurt?”
He nodded, groaning in frustration, squirming on the table before me. There it was, that look on his face I knew and loved so well. The unmistakeable look of suffering.
I grabbed the pin, and started twisting it around, furthering my slut’s torment. Jake flexed his massive arms, gasping and whining in response. He wanted to get out, away from this, away from me, but it was too late. Twelve hours in hell awaited him.
“S-stop,” the jock finally muttered, “F-fuck. Please stop. T-take it out.”
I simply increased my pace, twisting and turning the pin with no remorse. Jake howled in pain, struggling with his bonds as he threw his head back. His entire body shuddered at the touch, waves of agony washing over him with every motion. The poor hunk had no means of escape.
“You shouldn’t move too much. We wouldn’t want you to injure your precious man-meat, now too, would we?”
He looked at me, eyes wide and full of terror, and the beefcake realized that I wouldn’t mind that for a second. The more his dick would hurt, the more I loved it.
I continued until Jake was already sweating heavily. His face was red with exertion, his chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. It was wonderful, seeing him like this. Chained to the table in my playroom, subject to his Master’s unrelenting sadism, scared out of his mind. He was so beautiful I wanted to hurt him, and his pain only made him more beautiful, in turn.
But I wasn’t just doing this for my entertainment - it was the perfect way to get his mind off that knee injury, too. I knew my boy. He had been moping all day, replaying the most depressing scenarios in his head. He was beating himself down, telling himself his dreams were ruined, punishing himself for tearing his ACL. Being here with me might have meant he was in constant, physical pain; but at least he wasn’t going around breaking his own heart anymore.
“Not a fan of sounding, huh?” I grinned, stroking his rippling abs.
Jake shook his head, eyeing me with uncertainty. “N-no, sir.”
“Don’t worry, there’s only one more pin I’d like you to try. Not textured, this time.”
I grabbed the longest sound I had, longer than his enormous boner, and showed the stud how it was hollow on the inside. I brought some more lube to his urethra, and started inserting the pin.
“When was the last time you urinated, boy?”
The linebacker frowned. “W-what? Eh… I dunno, a couple hours ago?”
“You didn’t go before you came here?”
He shook his head. Perfect. I pushed the hollow rod all the way down, further than the previous two, stuffing his entire manhood with the metal pin. Jake started groaning again, awkwardly shifting his loins, staring at his suffering cock in disbelief.
I tilted the pin a little, and asked him how that felt.
“W-wait, Master, that- ngghh - f-fuck, I’m gonna…”
I grinned, tilting it further and further. I knew exactly what he was trying to say.
“It’s okay, Jakey. Just relax,” I said, pushing the rod into his bladder with no remorse. “Let go of everything. Master is in control of your body.”
The sounds that followed from my jock were beautiful as ever. A pained, humiliated whimper, pathetic as can get, nothing but shame and self-hatred. Jake watched in horror as I forced him to piss all over himself.
Hot urine squirted out of the pin, landing on his washboard abs, even reaching as far as his bulging titties. It was a gorgeous sight, seeing this hunky football hero piss himself like some kind of incontinent misfit. There’s nothing more emasculating than forcing a bitch to soil himself before the man he cherished the most. This wasn’t physical pain, perhaps - but it certainly was mental torture.
“Dirty boy,” I snickered, yanking the pin out like it was nothing. “Pissed yourself, just for Master. Should I have you wear a fucking diaper, next time I play with you?”
Jake refused to meet my gaze, blushing like never before. He hated me as much as he hated himself. The lower half of his torso was gleaming with urine, smelling like a toilet, something that would serve to keep the fag reminded of his own weakness.
I stroked through the linebacker’s hair, and kissed his forehead.
“That was fun, wasn’t it? A perfect little warm-up,” I said. “Now it’s time for the real stuff.”
Keep reading
I’d like to hear anything you’ve got that’s NSFW of ernector!
Pairings: Hector/Ernesto
Summary: Hector loves eating chorizo
Keep reading
Someone knocked on the door of my office and walked in. I looked up. He was standing there in that tight shirt of his, 6’2” of pure muscle and virility.
Our eyes met, and he awkwardly cleared his throat.
“Hey, I, eh, got those reports you asked for,” he said, holding a folder in his hand. I told him to put them on my desk.
“If you don’t need me for anything else tonight, I’m gonna head home-“
“Actually, Jenkins, now you’re here, why don’t you get me some coffee,” I said, without looking up from my computer. He hesitated for a moment - it wasn’t exactly his job to make me coffee - but he knew he was better off just doing what I said. A little later, he returned with a cup.
It was way past closing time already, getting close to midnight. He’d been working overtime for hours now, busying himself with some boring reports that weren’t even really part of his job, and he had me to thank for that.
He put the cup on my desk. I took one look at it, and sighed.
“Not the tasteless crap from that machine, Jenkins,” I said. “Go get me some actual coffee, from the restaurant on the first floor. No sugar, no milk.”
“I-I think the restaurant’s closed already, sir,” he tried. I finally looked up from my computer - slowly, to make a point out of it - and gave him a fake smile.
“I’m sure you’ll figure something out,” I said. The tone of my words carried just enough threat to make sure he knew he wasn’t getting out of this.
A little while later he returned, panting ever so slightly, holding a cup from the coffee bar at the other side of the street. I took it without thanking him, and kept my eyes on my work. He just awkwardly stood there, unsure whether he was allowed to leave or not. When he finally turned headed for the door, I stopped him.
“I didn’t say you can go yet, Jenkins.”
“Sir, with all due respect, it’s getting very late. I really have to go home,” he said.
I sighed, and looked at him. I could practically smell the fear on him. Pathetic, really.
“Is that so?” I said, overtly scanning that beefy body of his. “Got a wife, waiting at home?”
He nodded. “Any kids, too?” “A little girl,” he said, “8 weeks old.”
“I see. Well, Jenkins, I understand your urge to get home. Take care of your little family, isn’t that right?”
He nodded, and a flicker of hope crossed his handsome face. He was even stupider than I thought, if he truly expected me to show any kind of mercy on him. He started walking toward the door again, but stopped just in time to hear my words.
“But I can also imagine that little family needs someone to pay the bills,” I said. “Someone to provide for them. Can’t be cheap, having a newborn baby, right?”
His eyes drifted back to mine. I grinned, and I saw that beautiful look of despair on his face that I had gotten addicted to.
“You know what you’re here for, boy,” I said.
“Just let me go home. I can’t do that shit anymore.”
“I’m not keeping you here. The door’s right there,” I said. “Just know you’re gonna have to find a new job, tomorrow, if you leave now.”
He clenched his fists, but he didn’t leave. I got up from my desk, and walked over to the musclebound stud. I placed a hand on his big, beefy shoulder, but he angrily shook it off.
“Don’t touch me,” he growled.
I wasn’t in the mood for playing around. I grabbed his chin, forced him to look at me, then punched him in the face without a sliver of mercy. Right in his eye. Now, I might not have the same strength I used to have when I was younger, but I still knew how to throw a fucking punch. He definitely felt that. The hunk almost fell over from the sudden blow, clinging onto one of the cabinets to steady himself.
“That’s gonna leave a fucking bruise, Jenkins,” I grinned. “How are you gonna explain that to that wifey of yours?”
“F-fuck you,” he spat, throwing me a furious look. For a second he looked like he wanted to strike back, but he controlled himself. “You can’t do this. I can go to the board. I can sue you.”
“Of course you could. I’m sure the board will take the word of a meatheaded cubicle worker like you over the word of the CFO.”
“I have proof,” he tried, “The bruises. The scars. We’re the only ones still on this floor. I can prove you did this to me.”
“Are you sure about that? You can try, of course. Perhaps you’ll be able to convince one or two people on the board. But even if you do, the majority will always be on my side. There’s nothing that will change that. I can guarantee you will lose your job as soon as you try telling anyone.”
He looked at me - no defense, no counterarguments. I saw most of his anger dissolving into fear. He knew damn well how right I was. I had his pathetic, meaningless little life in my claws, and I could do whatever I wanted with it. The realization of that alone made my boner twitch, my blood rushing with adrenaline.
“Take off your shirt, and come here,” I ordered. The bearded beefcake did as he was told, revealing his ripped torso. My grin widened at the sight; his beautiful chest and abs were still without a single hair, just as I’d instructed. Ever since I’d shaved his once so manly fur, he was no longer allowed to have that body hair. After all, he wasn’t a real man anymore. He was just my bitch.
I groped his muscular torso for a while, admiring his well-built physique, just to add to his humiliation. I recognized several small, round scars on his ribs, from where I had pressed out cigarettes before. I touched them, and asked if his wife had noticed them yet.
He shook his head. “No?” I asked, “Haven’t had much success in bed, then, lately?”
The stud didn’t answer, but his handsome face turned a little red. Poor Jenkins probably hadn’t seen pussy in months.
I ordered him to kneel, and he did. Looking down upon the once masculine, straight hunk, I felt my temperature rise. He looked so utterly defeated already. I rubbed my hands together, cracked my knuckles, and finally started beating the crap out of that pretty face of his.
I went pretty rough on him, today. It’d been a while since I had my hands on him, after all, and the fact he was now a brand-new dad made me all the more eager for his pain. The big burly beefcake just remained on his knees and let me punch him all I wanted. I used all my strength to hit that chiseled jaw, that beautifully bearded face of his. After a while I also started to kick the shirtless stud, striking his ribs and all those hard-earned muscles until he was lying on the ground, panting and groaning in pain.
I grabbed his hair, and yanked him back up to take a good look at him. His lip was split, and there were dark bruises all across his face and torso. One of his eyes was black and swollen.
“Had enough yet, Jenkins?” I chuckled, and the poor fitness addict nodded weakly.
“You know, I think I might have to fire you after all,” I continued. “This just doesn’t seem to do it for me anymore. Beating you up isn’t half as fun as it used to be.”
I grabbed his shirt from the ground, and wiped my knuckles on it. I tossed it back at him like a piece of trash, then returned to my desk, pretending to have lost interest in the pathetic musclehead in my office.
“P-please, s-sir - I really need this job,” he begged, having lost every bit of his usual alpha composure. His voice was as cracked and pitiful as he looked.
“Not my problem,” I said. “You’re replaceable, Jenkins. If you don’t serve any particular purpose anymore, I’d rather just hire some new muscle bitch to play with.”
“P-please,” he begged again. How low the straight alpha had fallen. “I-I will do anything. Please. I c-can’t lose this job.”
I laughed, and undid my belt. “Well, then. Why don’t you show me how useful you still are?”
The shirtless muscle man quite literally crawled toward me, bruised and battered, groaning like a wounded animal. The way his huge arms carried him, moving the muscles on his broad back, was enough to drive me insane with lust. I revealed my boner, and slapped it against his painful face a couple times. Without remorse, I forced my cock into his mouth.
This wasn’t his first time sucking me off, of course. I’d played this game with him several times already. I would beat him to a pulp, threaten to fire him, then blackmail him into giving that muscular straight body to me, use it for my pleasure. Nothing got me harder than treating Jenkins like this. Completely degrading him to a worthless little bitch, a sextoy, a filthy fucking whore whose only assets were his good looks.
I made him choke on my boner. I shoved it all the way down his thick throat, triggering his gag-reflex numerous times but really not giving a fuck. After raping his face for a while, I yanked his head back, and told him to keep his mouth open.
He obeyed, and I spit right on his tongue.
“There you go, boy,” I chuckled. “Finally get to taste some real-man-saliva. Aren’t you grateful?”
“Y-yes, sir,” he mumbled.
“Yes, sir, what?”
“Yes, sir, thank you for letting me taste your saliva.”
I laughed, and petted the big hunk. “Good boy. That’s the Jenkins I know. Now, go get me some rope, from the storage closet. It’s time for some more fun.” I said. Jenkins quickly got up. “Oh, and clean yourself out, first,” I added. I got out an enema from the drawer of my desk, and threw it at him. “I expect you in the conference room in ten minutes.”
A little later, the muscular stud stumbled into the big room, wearing nothing but his boxers. He knew well enough it was pointless to put his pants back on, having cleaned out that thick ass for me. He handed me the rope, and I tied his wrists behind his back. When he was all secured, I felt up his half-naked body for a while. Fuck, he looked good like this.
“Feels good to be tied up like that, huh, boy?” I taunted, nodding toward his obvious bulge. The poor hunk hadn’t had sex in forever; my rough treatment, no matter how painful and humiliating, was more than enough for his fat dick to get all excited.
Jenkins kept his head down, and moaned only weakly when I tweaked his nipples.
“Get on the table,” I finally ordered, when I’d had enough of his pathetic groans. The beefcake awkwardly positioned himself at the large conference table, unable to use his big arms. He leaned over forward, and stuck his fat ass out at me.
I tore those CKs off his body, and stuffed them in his mouth. God, how I’d missed that fucking ass of his. Sure, my other boys had nice, thick cakes, but none were as beautifully rounded as Jenkins’. Just like with his torso, the stud had done a great job at keeping this part of his body hairless.
“Ohh… f-fuck…” he groaned, when I started pushing two fingers up his hole. I’d taken his virginity long ago, but he was still tight as ever. I pulled his rock-hard cock back, so that it hung between his thighs like a fucking tail. The slut was loving this just as much as I was.
“Did you forget how much you love this, boy? Did you forget how badly you need this ass to get fucked?”
“Y-yes, sir,” he muttered, still muffled by his own underwear. “Please… f-fuck my ass.”
Maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all. He knew exactly what I wanted to hear, and it worked. Luckily for him, I’d brought some lube with me - I loosened his boypussy, positioned myself behind him, and finally pushed my boner into his tight hole.
I had loads more fun with Jenkins, that night. With his face pressed down on the table, and his ass up in the air, I pounded the stud’s cunt for hours. I slapped his cakes until they were red and sore, I jabbed at that little spot inside of him until he was howling at the top of his lungs. I ruthlessly tore his tight hole to shreds, and I loved every second of it.
The slut seemed to love it too, because it only took a couple of jerks on his big tail before he would shoot a load onto the ground. At some point, I lost count of how many times I’d milked that thick cock of his - let alone how many times I’d shot a load up his hole.
By the time I finally succumbed to my final orgasm, Jenkins was completely fucked out. He could only whimper weakly with every thrust of my rod. I pumped a last batch of semen into his already overflowing pussy, and pulled out.
With the cum seeping out of his ruined ass, I patted the half-conscious slab of beef a couple of times, telling him how much I’d enjoyed another night with him. He was too far gone to really respond, but that didn’t matter.
I untied his wrists, but tied them to the legs at the other side of the table instead. I tied his ankles to the ones on my side, so that he was truly spread out like the whore he was. I went back to my office to get two of the dildos from my drawer, which I shoved into his mouth (alongside his sweaty boxers) and asshole. Jenkins pathetically struggled with the ropes, but to no avail.
“If only that poor wife of yours could see you now,” I chuckled, digging my nails in his beefy ass-cheeks. I grabbed a marker from the table, and wrote the words ‘Fuck Me’ on his gorgeous glutes. Finally I stepped back, and took a picture of the perfect scene.
“Well, Jenkins, I’ll be off now,” I said. “The board will get to see your proof in the morning, just like you wanted. I’m sure they’ll all be pleasantly surprised when they come in here for there daily meeting. However, I don’t think there will be a lot of pity for you, when they see you like this.”
The poor hunk groaned something incomprehensible, looking up at me with tears in his eyes, begging me for mercy.
“Don’t worry, boy. I don’t think they’ll fire you. I even think you’ll get promoted, actually. You’ll be the official office whore, from now on, safely locked away in some storage room in this building. You’ll have cocks up those slutty holes for the rest of your pathetic life.”
Depraved Days of December
Day 3 - Jocknapped
Mike woke up groaning, his head throbbing with pain. It took the buff stud a while before he could think straight, and a wave of confusion hit him when he finally realized where he was. He was definitely not in his bed, at home.
The muscular boy was in a dark room, his wrists tied to the ceiling, his ankles chained to pins in the ground. He was completely locked in place.
“”W-what… W-what the f-fuck?” he muttered, trying to free himself from the ominous bondage. “Yo, w-what the fuck is going on? What the fuck?!?”
The hunk started to shout louder, panicking more and more as he rattled with the chains, but he couldn’t break free.
Before Mike could shout and scream at the top of his lungs, a door opened somewhere in the darkness. A single lightbulb turned on.
In walked two skinny guys, both grinning widely. “Hello, Mike,” one of them said.
“Y-you… f-fucking fags… g-get me the fuck outta here,” the bound jock spat, recognizing the two from school. He’d caught them checking him out in the lockerrooms more than once.
“D-don’t get fucking near me,” Mike growled, furious and panicked at the same time. “I’m gonna break every bone in your fucking body once I get outta this, y’hear me? I’m gonna kill you!”
The two just laughed, and continued to approach their victim. They loved to see the normally so arrogant jock tied up, helpless and freaking out.
“Do you know how easy it was to get you like this?” one of them mocked, “We spiked your water, dragged you into a car, and voila. You musclehead never even saw it coming.”
Mike, by now, was wildly bucking and struggling in his bondage. He pulled at the chains with every bit of his strength, his broad chest heaving up and down while his captors came closer and closer, but it was to no avail.
“D-don’t- f-fuckin’- TOUCH ME, F-FAGS!!” he shouted, when one of the boys put his hand on the stud’s big pecs, and the two of them laughed again.
“Great tits you have there, Mikey. Real firm and juicy,” the guy said, squeezing and feeling the jock’s chest through his tight shirt; Mike went insane with fury and terror.
While he continued to rage and curse his captors, the boys started to feel up the hunk’s ripped torso through the tight shirt. They grabbed his muscle tits, rubbed his eight pack and squeezed his biceps.
“Let’s see what you got, big boy,” one of the boys said, grinning maliciously as he revealed a pair of scissors. Mike, panting from the constant struggling and panicking, could only watch in horror as his captors cut away his shirt and shorts.
“Fuck, Mikey. You really are a muscular bitch.” The boys stood in awe at the sight of the perfectly developed body. Their victim, heated in his fury and terror, was panting and sweating profusely, his torso glistening in the dim lighting of the room.
“I’m gonna rip your throat out,” Mike growled, his beefy chest heaving up and down while one of the gays started to play with his now vulnerable nipples. The two guys just laughed.
One of the predators kept massaging the quarterback’s sensitive spots, and the other kneeled down and started to rub the boy’s big, strong legs that stood like trunks under the equally appealing torso.
“Look, I think he’s starting to like it,” one of them chuckled, mocking the captive stud as Mike’s bulge slowly grew. No matter how furious and terrified he might be, the boys’ sensual actions managed to arouse him. The hunk’s head grew even redder with humiliation.
“Getting horny already, Mikey? I’m afraid you’ll have to wait - we’ve got a lot in more in store for you.”
Mike started to writhe and shout again as he felt the boy’s hands gliding toward his boxers. He yelled as loudly as he could, bucking in his bondage like never before as his captor grabbed the semi-boner he was rocking.
“F-FUCKING LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”
The boys didn’t leave him alone, of course. They continually rubbed Mike’s nipples and crotch, loving their victim’s screams and curses that were becoming more and more frantic, until the beefy stud was panting like a dog in his chains, sweaty with an enormous pole in his boxers.
“W-what are y-you…” the captive muttered, his eyes widening in fear as the gay started to turn with the scissors to his boxers. “N-no! N-NO!! D-DON’T F-FUCKING T-TAKE THOSE OFF!!!”
The hunk resumed struggling with all his might as his last piece of clothing was cut away, and the juicy boner sprung up.
“Told you he was huge,” one of the captors said, his eyes twinkling deviously as he stroked the fat balls and cock.
Both of the boys looked hungrier than ever as they toyed around with Mike’s naked, gorgeous body. They grabbed his bubble butt, making him yelp at the top of his lungs, and slowly teased the jock by licking and stroking his dick.
“F-fuck,” Mike growled when one of the boys slowly took his tool’s head into his mouth. Without even realising it, the beefy stud was already slightly thrusting his hips forward, eager to be relieved with an orgasm.
The poor boy didn’t know, however, how long it would take before he was actually granted this relief. There was nothing the captors enjoyed more than to see the jock panting and begging to cum.
After having teased Mike with sucking just the tip of his cock for a while, the gays pulled back and had another good look at the sweaty, heavily-blushing musclehead. Their captive was no longer rattling in his chains; he could only pant and moan at the sexual torment.
“This will be fun, Mikey,” one of the boys said, grabbing some kind of flask containing a blue substance. He poured some on his finger, and approached the naked hunk.
“D-don’t,” the guy groaned, as the sadist started to smear the ominous substance on the head of his dick. “C-c’mon, d-don’t, don’t do this to me…”
The boy chuckled, and applied the strange viagra all over Mike’s balls, nipples and shaft.
It took maybe half a minute before the terrified jock started to struggle again, feeling his sensitive spots heat up like he’d never experienced before, and his crotch started to tingle. The two abductors watched contently as their victim’s head reddened even more, and his boner seemed so hard it must’ve hurt.
Mike was clearly aching to be relieved, but the poor beefcake couldn’t do anything about it.
“Y’know, Mikey,” one of the boys said, slowly tracing his finger down the hunk’s sweaty torso, “These…” he touched the jock’s nipples, which resulted in soft whimpers from the panting captive, “… are actually connected with this…”
He touched the enormous, leaking boner, and Mike groaned again. The two boys were revelling in his agony.
“Which is why you must be feeling so lovely right now,” the captor grinned. Mike was trembling from head to toe, his young, sculpted body burning and exploding with sensations he had never felt before. The viagra was clouding his every judgement; all the stud could think about was how desperately he needed to cum.
He moaned loudly as one of his tormentors slowly licked along his shaft. The two boys laughed at his every pathetic whimper and groan.
“S-stop…” Mike growled, struggling weakly in his chains when the guy grabbed his tool, and used his thumb on the red head of the enormous dick to torture the captured jock to the max.
“P-please… l-let me go…”
“Can’t do that, Mikey,” one of his captors taunted, “We’re having way too much fun with you. You’re gonna stay here with us for a long time.”
The stud groaned and whimpered in frustration, unable to anything as one of the guys approached him with lube and started to rub his entrance. He pushed a finger inside, and the jock flexed his sweaty muscles in discomfort as he had never had anything up there before.
“Damn, he’s tight,” the captor said, and Mike growled again as he was forced to take a second finger, then a third. The fags were stretching his ass, and he could only imagine in horror what was gonna happen next.
“Now, Mikey, there’s two options,” one of them said, getting out some ominously big toys, “These beads, or this dildo. Any preference?”
“N-no, no, no, no,” the captive quarterback muttered, clearly on the verge of tears, “S-shit, no, no, please, d-don’t do this to me…”
The boys laughed, and threw each other an amused look. “No preference, then? Great. We’ll do both!”
Mike struggled and groaned like never before as his captors started to insert the terrifyingly large beads into his behind.
The boys took their time, loving the jock’s agony as they tortured him. The sight of his muscular, godly body all sweaty and chained up like that drove them mad with lust, but they remained patient.
Finally, the entire string of beads had disappeared into Mike’s thick ass, and the quarterback started to cry as the gays toyed around with his hypersensitive nipples.
“Aw, Mikey, what’s wrong?”
“P-please,” the hunk sobbed, shaking his head, “T-take… out… h-hurts…”
The boys laughed, and slapped his ripped body until their hands had left red prints all over the muscular canvas.
“The first time always hurts a little. Wait until we put the dildo up there too, that’s when the real fun begins!”
Despite the stud’s desperate sobbing and pleading, the sadists proceeded to stuff the enormous thing up his barely stretched hole. They left the beads in too, inserting the fake dick alongside them, making sure their victim went completely insane from the torment.
Mike’s virgin ass was suddenly forced to take in a monstrous set of toys, and he felt like he was gonna be ripped apart.
When the dildo was finally completely inside him, the jock was trembling furiously, his head burning red and covered in tears. Mike’s mouth was hanging open, letting out a constant moan as his prostate took over all his senses.
“See, Mikey, I told you it’d be fun!” one of his captors chuckled, “Now, we’re gonna have dinner and meet some friends; but don’t worry, you get to stay here and enjoy yourself.”
The quarterback was too brain-fucked to give the boy a comprehensible response. The gays laughed at their horny jock, kissed him and jerked his massive boner a few times, and then left the hunk alone.
For almost 4 hours, Mike waited like that, drooling and moaning like an animal as the dildo vibrated in his ass. His dick was leaking more and more precum, and his abundant muscles were sore from all his struggling - but there was nothing the stud could do until his captors returned.
When they finally did, the two of them had turned into five. Mike recognised all of them from school, but was too exhausted to give a proper response as the boys grabbed and slapped his glistening muscles.
“How you holding up, Mikey?” one of them asked, while another held up a phone to record the scene. “Ready to cum yet?”
Mike weakly nodded in his chains, moaning and wishing for nothing but relief. The viagra and toys had him heated up like never before.
The sadists laughed, and one of them grabbed the quarterback’s chin as he brought his own face closer. “One wrong move and I’ll castrate you, big boy,” the captor whispered, and he brought his lips upon his victim’s.
The jock let the hostile tongue invade his mouth, submissively kissing back. The other boys cheered at the sight of them making out, and made sure to capture every moment of their dream come true.
Mike, terrified by the fag’s threat, started to feel entirely new sensations at the sudden change in treatment. The captor was giving him sensuality after hours and hours of brutal punishment, and it made the quarterback’s leaking cock twitch.
“Like that, huh?” the boy whispered, pulling back for a second and stroking Mike’s red face. He forced the jock to look him in the eyes, loving the sight of his wet puppy eyes, and started to kiss his neck while the other captors’ hands explored the rest of the athlete’s perfect physique.
“P-please,” Mike muttered back, “I-I’ll leave y-you guys alone from now on. I-I swear. P-please, just let me go…”
The gay just grinned, and gently kissed his collarbone. “Stop trying to resist, Mike. Forget about the world. Just focus on how good we’re making you feel.”
The captive threw his head back in pleasure when the boy took hold of his dick. While kissing his neck and face, the guy slowly jerked him off, making the jock’s toes curl up in ecstasy.
Mike felt another boy’s mouth starting to work his thighs and fat balls, and someone else was slowly twisting the dildo inside of him. His entire body was exploding with pleasure, countless tongues and hands worshipping his ripped body. The sensations were overwhelming, and the straight stud arched backwards in his bondage as he finally felt his orgasm welling up.
“Tell me what you want, Mikey,” the kissing boy whispered. He stopped jerking, just in time to deny his slave an orgasm, and teased the aching boner by rubbing his thumb over its head.
“N-no, no… I w-wanna cum…” the quarterback panted, thrusting his hips forward in an attempt to relieve himself. The captors laughed at their horny football whore.
“Tell me you belong to us. Say you’re our muscle bitch. Then I’ll let you shoot.”
The boy grabbed his hair and pulled him closer. Mike weakly shook his head, nestling his face in his captor’s neck while pleading for mercy. “P-please, n-no, no, I-I can’t, I can’t… f-fuck, just let me c-cum…”
His head was pulled back up again, and the dominant eyes stared right at him. “Say the words, big boy,” the gay hissed, grabbing his thick neck and making the jock cower under his sudden aggression.
The constant switching between sensuality and hostility was driving him insane, and Mike begged the boy to stop over and over again. Finally, with tears running down his handsome face, the quarterback broke.
When he gave in, the captor pulled back for a second and let the camera focus on Mike’s face. “I-I belong to you,” the stud muttered, completely defeated, “I am your… y-your muscle bitch. I belong to you.”
The gays laughed and cheered at the broken hunk, and the one who had been kissing him stroked his face in contentment.
“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it? You’re a good boy,” he taunted. “Now, your reward.”
Without warning, the guy grabbed his throat and dick, and made Mike gasp for air as he pumped the boner with all his might.
Suddenly all hands and mouths were over him again, and the jock flexed his abundant muscles as he was finally brought over the edge.
Every inch of the stud exploded with ecstasy. Endless gobs of semen spurted into the air as Mike was in heaven for a brief moment, and the sight of their hot victim shooting his man juice sent some of the captors over the edge as well.
The painfully intense orgasm slammed into the quarterback like a truck, the lack of oxygen beginning to take its toll, and he was on the verge of passing out when the guy finally released his throat.
The musclehead collapsed in his chains coughing and gasping for air, and he barely registered the main captor taking out his own boner and bringing it closer.
Mike had no energy left to protest as the boy slapped the dick against his face, teabagging him like a bitch, and eventually opening his mouth with his fingers to force the cock inside.
The boys took turns fucking the quarterback’s handsome face for a while, each filling his stomach and coating his lips with their jizz. Mike remained half-conscious as the sadists toyed around with him for another hour.
When they released him from his chains in the end, the poor stud was too weak to struggle as the main captor flipped him on his back, and lifted his thick legs up.
“I’d kinda wished you’d be more present when I popped your cherry, Mikey,” he taunted. The jock only moaned weakly when the toys were removed from his ass.
“But I can’t let this opportunity pass by me. Oh well. You’ll have the videos to remember it properly.”
While the other captors coated Mike’s face and torso with their cum, the boy pressed into the quarterback and made the hunk growl for the rest of the night.
Mike’s unconscious body was dropped on the front porch of his house, a little before dawn. Naked, raped, and covered in jizz, the young stud was lucky enough to awake before anyone else in the house did, and he quickly snuck into his bed where he cried himself to sleep.
Unfortunately for the quarterback, though, not everyone in his street had been asleep when the gays had dumped him on the porch. One man in particular had been lucky enough to witness the scene. While Mike fell asleep, the old neighbor was still happily going through the pictures and videos he’d managed to take.
“Dinner’s ready, boy!”
A couple moments later, Sean walked into the kitchen. The rugby stud was fully naked, as per usual when he was with me. His strong, burly body gleamed in the light of the room, and I let my eyes roam freely over every inch of him.
Sean’s big, fat cock had gone limp, but started growing again when he saw me. Soon enough, it stood rock-hard upon his groin, begging for attention once more.
“Hungry?” I asked, smirking at the blushing athlete. He nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“I bet you are. You big boys are always hungry,” I grinned. “Well, it’s beef stew for you, tonight. I made even more than last time. We want you to stay big ’n beefy, of course.”
I lifted the lid from the pot, letting him have a good whiff of that. I knew he was starving. Sean’s eyes hungrily followed the food, his stomach loudly rumbling in response.
“Smells good, huh?”
“Yes, sir,” he said, with that adorable Irish accent of his, “Real good.”
First, I spooned some onto a plate for myself. The boy’s eyes twinkled with excitement, secretly hoping he was getting a plate today too. When I got out the big, metal dog bowl, however, his excitement dimmed.
I filled it about halfway with the stew, then put the bowl on the floor. Sean was looking at me with a mixture of anger and distress.
He hated this part, more than anything. Which was exactly why I made sure to keep the tradition going.
“Come, come, Sean. On your knees. You know the drill.”
The beefy stud frowned. “Not again,” he muttered. “P-please. Just let me eat at the table.”
I chuckled, and shook my head. “No, no, boy. The table’s only for real people, remember?” I said, “And what does that say?”
I pointed at the four letters on the bowl, and the jock’s handsome face got even redder. His fists were clenched, and I saw the muscles on his exposed body flex.
“Sean,” he growled. “It says Sean.”
“Good boy. Real people don’t have their name engraved on a dog bowl, do they, Sean?”
“No, sir. Only dogs do.”
“That’s right,” I grinned. “So, be a good boy and get on your knees. You eat your food off the floor, just like any other dog.”
Reluctantly, the muscular athlete did as he was told. Sean got to his knees, his fat boner already leaking drops of precum onto the floor while he waited for his next command. Whether he liked it or not, the stud’s prized jewels always responded very well to abuse and humiliation. Being treated like a dog was enough for his perverted fag brain to go nuts.
I poured myself a drink, and sat down at the table. A tiny flicker of hope crossed Sean’s heated face; maybe he thought I’d forgotten the best part of our little ritual, or hoped that I’d be merciful today. Nothing could be further from the truth.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” I said, grinning down upon the naked beefcake. “You like your food with a special kind of sauce, don’t you?”
Sean’s face hardened, and he weakly shook his head.
I got up from my chair, squatted down next to him, and ruffled affectionately through his hair.
“Yes, you do,” I said, “You can’t have dinner without your special sauce, Seanie.”
I grabbed his fat cock, and the jock made a little whining sound. My poor pup.
“P-please,” he whispered, shifting awkwardly in his spot when I started tugging on his meaty rod. “D-don’t… Just this once. Please, sir…”
I laughed, and increased my pace. A loud moan escaped the stud’s throat.
“Go on, big boy. Don’t be shy. Give me everything you’ve got.”
Sean kept whining and whimpering, begging me to stop while his thick body was begging me to keep going. I felt his fat member throb in my hand, the blood rushing through his veins, his heart pounding in his barrel-chest… and I felt powerful. The 240-pound beast was completely under my control. Every inch of this beautiful, brawny rugby star belonged to me, and me alone.
“One…” I whispered, and Sean groaned aloud. My hand was rapidly pumping up and down his large tool, faster and faster with every stroke.
“…two…” I continued, and he pleaded for mercy one last pathetic time.
“…three!”
The jock nestled his face in my neck, and moaned loudly as I pushed him over the edge. The cry of a defeated, desperate animal. I felt his whole body shudder as his dick started to shoot, planting strings of semen all over his dinner. Sean’s bull balls were once again emptied into the bowl. I kept tugging at his rod until every last drop of sperm had landed on the food.
“There we go,” I chuckled, kissing his sweaty forehead. “That’s my boy. Bon Appetit, Seanie.”
The naked rugby stud was panting heavily, refusing to meet my gaze. He hated me for doing this, and hated himself even more for letting me.
Like the well-trained dog he was, Sean waited for me to get back to my seat. I took my time getting back up, sitting down at the table, and taking a sip of my drink before giving my boy the sign. “Eat,” I said, and the beast dove forward.
There’s something magical about watching a famous, 240-pound athlete naked on all fours, eating his dinner from a dog bowl on your kitchen floor. Only a couple of hours earlier, Sean had been praised as a hero on the field, having claimed yet another victory for his team; thousands of fans cheered for him and his skills. Now he was gorging on a bowl of stew covered in his own spunk, completely pathetic and vulnerable. If only his dear fans could see him like this.
Knowing the stud was only tasting his gunky sperm made my own food taste all the better.
It had been months since he actually tasted and enjoyed any kind of food. Every breakfast, every lunch, every dinner - hell, even every goddamn protein shake my boy gulped down was laced with salty, slimy semen. It ruined every meal and every flavor.
At first, Sean protested a lot, dreading another cum-laced breakfast or dinner. He’d struggle to eat even half of his portion, and became irritable and frustrated. He even walked out on me numerous times, yelling that he’d never listen to me again, only to come back with his tail between his legs a couple hours later.
Slowly but steadily, the jock started getting used to the overpowering taste of his sperm. He still objected every now and then, but his bowl would be empty by the time we finished dinner. My training was bearing fruit, whether he liked it or not.
Not only did this reinforce my grip on the beefy boy, it also rewired his instincts. At least three or four times a day Sean’s cock would be emptied, and that was only for his meals; combined with our other filthy games and pastimes, the poor athlete had to shoot his load around eight times per day on average. Ten, if I was feeling generous.
This basically meant his dick would be hard all day and night, or at least when I was around. My presence became a guarantee for his boner. It soon only took one glimpse of my face, one whiff of my cologne, or one little sound of my voice to have the stud’s cock be rock-hard and aching for attention. Around mealtime especially, Sean’s fat rod could get so hard and needy he would go around the house whining and humping whatever cushion he could find.
Touching his own cock was out of the question, of course. That was a lesson he’d been taught long ago. All he could do was grind his crotch against something and wait for Master to provide him with the much needed relief.
“Enjoyed that, boy?” I asked, once we’d finished dinner. Sean’s bowl had been licked empty, and he looked up at me with those adorable puppy eyes. His chin and beard were all dirty.
“Yes, sir,” he said. “Thank you.”
I cleaned up my plate and his bowl, and wiped his face with a napkin. Then I walked toward the living room, and the naked jock followed on all fours. It didn’t even occur to him to get back to his feet, at this point.
I sat down on the couch, and Sean kneeled at my feet. His big cock was still fully hard, despite just having shot a load, and his eyes were filled with excitement and submission. Now that dinner was over, the thick jock wanted nothing more than for his Master to play with him.
Instead, I ignored him and turned to my phone. I pretended not to hear his little whine, and continued to ignore him for a couple of minutes. Sean was gonna have to learn that his wishes didn’t matter - only Master’s did. No matter how eager, how horny he was, he was gonna have to wait until I made the next move.
The poor stud was already desperately grinding his crotch against my leg, by the time I finally stopped ignoring him. His pathetic whines and whimpers were music to my ears.
“What is it, boy?” I asked, like you would a dog, “What do you want?”
Sean couldn’t talk, only managed to give another dog-like whine as he looked up at me with pleading eyes. Poor thing.
“Aw, what’s that? You want your Master to play with you, huh?”
He nodded slowly, embarrassed of his own wishes. I petted the buff athlete for a moment, then sighed. “Alright, boy. Go get your toy. Come on.”
Within seconds, Sean had crawled out of the room. He quickly returned with a big, purple dildo, which he carried in his mouth. His favorite toy.
He brought it over to me, and sat on his knees again, panting slightly from the frantic crawling. God, he was gorgeous. His naked body glistened with sweat, and I felt my own boner twitch in my pants.
“Look at you,” I said, slapping the big dildo against his face a couple times. “You’ve become such a good boy, haven’t you, Sean? You do as your Master tells you. No more of that fake Alpha nonsense. You know exactly what you are.”
“Y-yes, sir,” he muttered, “I’m your bitch.”
I grinned, and scratched his little beard as a reward. “Very good. Open those bitch-lips, Seanie. We want to lube this up a little before you can sit on it.”
The jock did as he was told, and let me push the enormous dildo into his mouth. His eyes were locked on mine as the fake dick disappeared inch by inch. Further and further into his throat, until he’d taken almost the entire thing.
Despite his training, Sean was obviously struggling to keep himself from gagging. He was doing everything he remembered; carefully breathing through his nose, trying to keep his throat relaxed. But the dildo was monstrous, and he could only take so much. When I pushed it a couple more inches further, the rugby stud gagged violently.
I kept the dildo his mouth, pushing it back with my hand, and Sean gagged again. His eyes had gotten panicky, and his face was burning red. Still, I made him keep it down. He gagged a third time… a fourth… a fifth…
Finally, after his sixth dry-heave, I yanked the enormous thing back out. Sean doubled over, coughing and sputtering as he tried to catch his breath.
“That’ll do,” I said. I tossed the spit-drenched dildo to the floor, and sat back to enjoy the show. “Go on, boy. Let’s see if your other hole is better adapted to such measurements.”
Without wasting another second, the athlete scraped himself back together and got to his feet. He positioned the fake cock on the floor, right underneath him, and squatted down upon the dildo. Sean groaned as the tip pressed into his hole.
I smiled, and kept my hands on his heated face while the stud impaled himself upon the toy. His eyes were glued to mine at all times, his fingers desperately clinging onto my knees. The more inches disappeared into his fat ass, the more Sean’s face contorted with exertion. It was a big fucking dildo, of course. With only some spit as lube, it really was quite the challenge for my slut’s still-tight cunt.
But by the way his big boner was already leaking again, I could tell how much the jock was enjoying the challenge. He loved having his boypussy split open.
With a loud, final grunt, Sean pushed himself upon the entire dildo. The beefy beast was sweating, and trembling slightly, but his pretty eyes were filled with pride.
“That’s a good boy!” I chuckled, lovingly rubbing his face. “Feels good, huh?”
The stud nodded, even giving me a little smile. He was so proud, so happy with Master’s praise. If he’d had a tail, he’d be wagging it furiously.
I didn’t even have to remind him what the next step was. Sean eagerly unbuckled my belt, unzipped my fly, and brought his lips to my boxers. He licked my bulge, taking in the intoxicating taste and scent of his Owner. Such a good boy. Before long, I told him to go ahead, and the pup pulled down the fabric to reveal my large boner. A gasp escaped my throat as he took it in his mouth, giving me head like never before.
At the same time, the rugby star started fucking himself upon the dildo, bringing his thick body up and down. He was showing off, but I didn’t mind; the stud had become such a well-trained slut over the last few months, I was more than happy to see him showcase his skills.
It took about five minutes before my lust got the best of me and I dove onto the naked beefcake. I yanked his head off my cock, tossed him to the floor, and flipped him on his back. Sean’s eyes were wide and full of excitement, staring up at me like the perfect submissive he had become. I grabbed the dildo, and pushed it even further into his hole.
“Like that, boy?” I said, while Sean threw his head back and moaned loudly in response.
“Nnnghh!! Y-yes!” he groaned, “Y-yes, sir!”
“Yeah, you do. The bitch loves it when Master plays with his pussy.”
“Yes! Nnghh - ohhh… p-please, sir… nnghh…”
“What is it, Seanie?” I chuckled, “Big toy’s not enough for ya?”
“Nnnfgghh… P-please… please f-fuck me, sir…”
That was all I needed to hear. I yanked the oversized dildo out in one, quick motion, gave his fat ass a good slap, and grabbed onto those thick legs of his. Sean howled at the top of his lungs as I finally pushed into his bubble butt. The real fun could begin.
The muscular jock shot his load several more times, that night. As soon as Master’s cock hit that magic spot inside of him, he was unstoppable; over and over again, his big dick launched waves of hot cum onto his own torso. Soon enough, Sean’s face was covered in white spunk once again, and he loved every second of it.
I fucked him hard, deep, battering his prostate again and again while his tight hole milked my cock. The jock was going nuts; whining, whimpering, begging me to stop, then begging me to continue. His beefy pecs bounced up and down as I plowed his hole well into the night.
Even after creaming his cunt three times, I found myself unable to stop. I was addicted to the way he kept writhing on the floor, soaked in sweat and cum, growling like a fucking animal. Caught in heaven and hell at the same time, impaled upon his Owner’s rod like a fucktoy.
I fucked him on the cold, hard floor until he passed out, over-fucked and drained of everything. His strong, naked body marked by his own tadpoles while Master’s cum seeped out of his gaping hole.
There really was no dignity left to the once so proud rugby stud. He may still have had those impressive muscles, that incredible warrior body so many people long for, but beneath all that, there was just a weak little pup, bound to his Owner’s will. No matter how filthy, no matter how degrading, Sean would do anything for his Master. There was nothing in his life but submission and suffering, and the inevitable layer of sex that covered both.
Sure enough, he still played those big rugby matches. He was still one of the country’s most praised athletes, admired by countless ignorant fans. But rugby was just another thing to make Master happy. Every cent that Sean made with those games went straight into my bank account. He knew how happy he made me with all those big numbers, so he happily kept winning as much as he could.
But rugby was no longer his life’s purpose. That era had ended the moment he submitted to me. Sean’s only purpose in life was submission - more specifically, submission to me. Every second of his existence, every single breath he took was devoted to me and me alone. All those years of playing rugby and going to the gym had all been for me, shaping him into the perfect bitch for his Master. He knew this was why he had been put onto this earth.
Sean was going to serve me until the day he died.
Well, until the day he grew too old for Master to enjoy him. But that amounts to the same thing.
“Yo,” I said, walking into my dorm. “You going to that frat party, tonight?”
Rick, my roommate, was sitting in his chair, showcasing his guns in a sleeveless top. He looked up at me, and shook his head, sighing.
“Can’t. Gotta finish this paper by midnight.”
Right. The English paper he’d been moaning about for weeks now. Course the meathead had waited till the last moment to actually start doing it.
“Good luck,” I grinned at the sulking jock. “I heard the entire women’s volleyball team is gonna be at that party. Maybe if you hurry, you’ll get a chance to see ‘em.”
Rick frowned, and sighed again. We both knew there was no way in hell he was gonna be able to go to that party, tonight. There was a good chance he wasn’t even gonna get that paper done at all, no matter how hard he worked. Academics weren’t exactly my roomie’s strong suit.
I went to grab some stuff from my desk, and checked my phone. Rick let out another sigh.
“Actually, dude… eh, I-I was hoping you could help me…” he muttered.
I turned around, and saw his cute face turning red. “Oh?”
“Y-yeah… I know you’re real good at all that book stuff, y’know… and I really can’t screw up this grade. Coach said they’re gonna kick me off the team, if I fail.”
I didn’t even bother to hide my amusement. There was just something very satisfying about this dumb, beefed up jock, desperately needing a scrawny guy like me to help him out. If I didn’t help, he was sure to fail, and would lose his spot on the team. In a way, it felt like I was now in control of his big football dreams.
“You know I’m always happy to help you out, Ricky,” I snickered. “But not without getting something back in return.”
The stud’s cheeks got even redder, and he lowered his gaze to the floor. I couldn’t keep my eyes off those huge fucking arms of his.
“I-I got cash, this time,” Rick tried.
I scoffed, and walked up to him. “I don’t need your money.”
I put a hand on his shoulder, and started to feel up those bulging muscles. The jock weakly shook his head. “C’mon, dude,” he mumbled, shifting awkwardly in his chair. “Just help me out. I don’t know who else I can ask.”
“Like I said, for a price, I’ll help you,” I grinned, rubbing up his delts. “And you know exactly what my prices are.”
“No. I-I… I can’t do that shit again. I ain’t a fag.”
I shrugged. “Fine by me. Have fun trying to write that paper all by yourself.”
I gave his traps one good last squeeze, then walked back to my own bed, uninterested. Rick said nothing. I knew he was fighting himself on the inside, struggling with the few brain cells he did have. What was more important? Keeping his dignity intact, or his future football career?
Was he really gonna let his pervy roommate treat him like this, just to stay on the team?
Of course, I already knew the answer.
I heard him move behind me, and when I turned back around, the corners of my mouth curled up. Rick had taken off his shirt. The jock sat there in all his shirtless glory, blushing like never before, frustrated and embarrassed. His sculpted torso on display for me alone. He refused to look at me, and kept his mouth shut - but the message was loud and clear.
He needed my help, and he would do anything to get it.
“Smart boy,” I chuckled, walking back to him. I grabbed a handful of his tit, and started working his chest with vigor. Rick’s pecs had always been my favorite.
The stud was fuming silently in my hands, clenching his fists as he felt my fingers digging in his flesh. I could tell how much he hated me for doing this, manipulating him into being my bitch once more. He had sworn never to do this again, after last time.
But here we were again.
I placed my other hand on his face, and brought a finger to his mouth.
“Open,” I ordered. The jock stubbornly refused.
I slapped him, hard. My hand crashed into his face, sharp and sudden, and he winced in pain. The sound echoed through the room, and I left a nice print on his reddened cheek.
“Open,” I repeated myself. Reluctantly, Rick let my fingers glide past his lips, and I told him to suck. There’s nothing better than having a straight, 230-pound college athlete sucking on your fingers, just because you told him to.
Well, I could think of something better, of course. But that would come later.
“Right, it’s almost 9pm, now,” I said, while the embarrassed hunk used his tongue on my fingers. “I reckon I can turn your piece of crap into a prize-worthy paper before 11. While I’m working, you’re gonna use that slutty mouth of yours to keep me satisfied. Deal?”
Rick nodded weakly. Not like he had much of a choice, anyway.
I grabbed his neck, and threw the shirtless stud to the floor. The sight and smell of those beautiful muscles had gotten me all horned up.
“Strip,” I ordered, while I undid my own belt. “And better make it quick. Every second you’re loitering is a second less spent on your precious paper.”
With a head like a tomato, poor Ricky started taking off his sweats and socks, revealing those thick trunks of legs I knew and loved so well. His body was perfect, bulging with strength and virility in all the right places, a prime example of a young college stud. He was the embodiment of all the football jocks I’d fetishized over the years, lying here at my feet, half-naked and red with shame.
“Boxers too, big boy,” I said. Rick looked like he could burst into tears.
Reluctantly, he pulled his sweaty underwear down his legs. There it was. I’d seen it before, of course, but it was still a wonder to behold. A cock shaped by the gods.
I told him to start playing with himself, and the big jock enclosed a hand around his meaty tool. I’d secretly watched him many a time, jerking off in bed at night, but this was infinitely better than that. He lay before me like a proper whore, humiliated but obedient, tugging at his huge dick until it stood proudly engorged upon his groin.
“Very nice,” I chuckled. “Now, let’s get to work. You, under the desk, where you belong.”
“Y-yes, sir,” Rick muttered automatically. As soon as he realized what he’d said, his head got even redder, and he silently cursed himself.
“Would you look at that!” I laughed, “The bitch remembers, huh?”
The jock refused to look at me, but I saw the bitter shame in his puppy eyes. Of course he remembered. There was no way he could ever forget about the things I’d done to him, the things I’d forced him to do.
Rick crawled under the desk like a bad dog, and I sat down in the chair. I heard him bump his head, then his elbow - all of those 230 pounds of beef barely fit under there.
But the poor stud couldn’t complain. While I opened his laptop to start the work, he awkwardly positioned himself with his head between my thighs.
I felt his tongue on my boner, and sighed with pleasure. Like a good, obedient bitch-boy, my hunky roommate started giving me head.
Rick knew exactly what was expected of him; he wasn’t here to get me off, not yet, at least. While I worked on his paper, he was just there to bathe my cock in his mouth, to keep me hard for the next couple hours. He was there to kiss my thighs, lick my balls, and taste my precum. Just some fun, before the real show later on.
It was a little distracting for me, of course, but that didn’t matter. Even with half my attention, I’d turn his piece of crap paper into something more than decent. Besides, if I’d give it all my focus, the teacher would immediately recognize this as someone else’s handiwork.
While the minutes ticked away, we sat there like that.
Nothing but the sound of my typing, mixed with the sloppy noises that rose from under the desk. Me and my jock, both doing what we did best.
To be fair, it did take longer than expected. There was a lot still missing from his draft, which I had to look up and quote properly. By the time I’d gotten about halfway, the clock read 10:30pm already.
Rick must’ve noticed I’d stopped typing for a moment, and he shifted in his spot.
“W-what time is it?” he stammered.
“Shut up and keep sucking,” I snarled. With my knee, I kicked his head into the table, and he groaned aloud in pain. “I have to deal with the work of a Neanderthal, here. We’re certainly not going to that party anymore.”
“But it has to be done by midnight-“ he mumbled, before my knee cut him off.
“I know that, meathead. I’ll get it done. But you’re gonna be paying me back all night, for this. Understood?”
When he didn’t respond quick enough, I kicked his head a third time.
“Y-yes,” he growled, “Yes, sir.”
It ended up being 11:54pm, when I finally finished that damn paper.
By the time I uploaded the document and clicked send, I was tired and moody, annoyed by this elaborate fucking piece of work I’d been forced to type out. Even without the distraction of Ricky’s tongue on my cock, it would’ve been a hellish job to do within 3 hours.
But I’d done it, nonetheless. And now I had someone to take my frustration out on.
I wheeled out from under the desk, and told the jock to kneel before me.
Rick was clearly relieved to finally be allowed to move. I could imagine how tired and sore his mouth must be, after almost three hours of work; how painful his muscles and joints after all that time in a cramped space. The both of us were spent.
But my cock was still hard - and when I looked at his nether-region, it appeared I wasn’t the only one excited for what would come next.
“You’ll stay on the team,” I said. “For now, anyway. Won’t be an A+, but it’ll get you a pass.”
“T-thanks, dude,” he stammered, already gleaming slightly with sweat. Now that I could have a good look of his naked body again, I felt the burning sensation of lust returning. My roommate really was stunning.
“Now, for your payment,” I grinned, swaying my boner around in my hand. “I think it’s time you really start giving me some of that brainless jock head. Let’s see if you’ve gotten any better, since last time.”
So he crawled forward, and brought his face between my thighs once more. God, if those jock friends of his could see him like this… naked, on the floor, ready to serve his scrawny roommate’s cock… I bet he would only be used as the team’s new bitch, too pathetic to ever deserve another second on the field. I bet even his dear Coach would fuck his face.
Rick placed a tentative hand on my shaft, and brought the head between his precum-glazed lips. Inch by inch, my dick disappeared into his mouth.
Now, mine hadn’t the girth of Ricky’s own monster tool - but it certainly wasn’t small. He got about half-way when he gagged slightly, then quickly pulled back. He threw his eyes up at me, and I slapped his face.
“All the way down, bitch,” I said. “I’m sure you remember.”
The stud tried again, and again. He got a little further, but nowhere near the base of my cock. He used his tongue, just like I taught him to, and sent the most wonderful feelings through my crotch - but deep-throating was still not his strong suit.
“I c-can’t,” he panted, when he pulled back again. “It’s too big.”
I sighed, grabbed his head, and rammed my cock all the way down his throat without a sliver of mercy. I buried his nose in my pubes and held him there, spasming slightly, trying to fight his gag-reflex.
“There, that’s it,” I said. “All the way down. That’s what a good cocksucker like you should do.”
The jock twitched in my hands, heaving violently. I felt him trying to get away, trying to escape from his forceful reflexes, but I simply dug my fingers in his skull and started to fuck his face. Ramming my boner all the way in and out of his throat, feeding him my entire manhood. I could tell he was trying his best to take it, the poor thing. But with every thrust he gagged again, and his body became more and more desperate for air.
Finally, the stud managed to break free.
He fell back onto the floor, coughing and panting like a maniac, red-faced and slobbering. My big muscle boy, used and abused like a dirty little slut.
I laughed at the sight, and got up from the chair.
“You clearly still need some practice, big boy,” I scoffed, “Luckily for you, there’s another hole o’yours that might be able to pay off your debt.”
His watery puppy eyes were filled with pain and self-loathing, but Rick knew what was expected of him. When he’d recovered slightly, he got to his hands and knees, his big meat still swaying between his legs. I squatted down, and slapped those juicy glutes.
I spat on his crack, and pressed a finger into his ass. He was tight as ever, taut as a perfectly untouched, virgin cunt - or so you would think. Ricky was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn’t a virgin. I’d taken care of that long ago.
“S-shit…” he groaned, when I added another finger. Getting loosened back up was always the part he dreaded the most. Having his recovered cunt pried open again, stretched without remorse. It was painful and embarrassing. He knew that what was coming would be a whole lot bigger, too.
After a third finger helped open that tight hole up, I decided he was loose enough. I buried my fingers in his hips, positioned myself behind him, and let him feel the size my dick, pressed against his pink entrance. He was already breathing heavy, the slut. I knew it’d been a while since he’d been fucked.
“Ready, Ricky? Want me to breed your pussy?” I grinned, stroking his muscular backside.
His head hung in defeat, burning with shame, and his eyes were closed. The collegiate athlete knew all too well there was only one correct answer here.
“Y-yes, sir,” he mumbled.
Such a good boy.
I pushed the first few inches inside of him, and a wonderfully pained moaning rose from my beefcake bitch. Hopefully for him, the rest of our dorm had gone off to that party - anyone who stayed behind and heard this would’ve thought a cow was being butchered.
“F-fuck, dude, go slow, go slow!” Rick groaned, shaking with exertion.
I laughed, tightened my grip on his loins, and slammed all the way inside.
The howl that followed made the hairs rise on my neck. Anyone in a fifty-mile radius would’ve heard this.
“Tone it down, idiot,” I growled, feeling his tight ass milking my cock. I grabbed his sweaty pair of boxers from next to me, yanked his head back up, and stuffed it into his mouth.
“Last thing we need is some supervisor coming in to check on us.”
“ANH- AH- P-PHFFUCKK!!!” Rick moaned into his gag. He was leaning on his forearms, shuddering with every thrust, visibly suffering as I plowed a way into him. I couldn’t blame him, really. Imagine a wound, having slowly healed for weeks and weeks, only to be torn open again with relentless violence. The poor jock was in a world of pain.
“S-sfhop!! P-phfleash- I-I can’t-”
“Shut up. It’ll get better,” I said, fucking him with full force. “The more you fight it, the more it’s gonna hurt. Just give up and surrender.”
My roommate was sobbing, at this point. Big Fucking Man on Campus, crying and softly shaking his head as his bubble butt was pounded into another dimension. Naked on the floor like a little fucking whore. All of those muscles did nothing for him now - nothing but further fuel the flames of lust inside of me.
I fucked him like that for a good fifteen minutes or so, brutally slamming my cock in and out of his cunt. My hips were slamming into those perfectly rounded cheeks, making them bounce and quiver like Jell-O. All he could do was moan and cry as I split his asshole open.
The longer I was inside of him, the harder I wanted to fuck my bitch.
At some point, I pushed him flat onto the floor, climbed on top of him, and started to pound the muscular slab of beef with all I had. The feeling of his bulging muscles, all that beautiful body, shuddering underneath me - it was all too much to handle.
I pushed his face against the floor, and drove my rod into him as far as it could go. With a loud, confident roar, I bred my jockslut’s ass.
I held him there until I’d pumped every last drop of sperm into him. All my seed was going into my bitch’s cunt, ready to impregnate his nonexistent womb. He was nothing but a glorified cum-dump, nice to look at but really only meant to be fucked. With my load, I marked his virile body as mine, and mine alone.
Finally, I pulled out of him, and sat at the end of my bed with a content sigh.
Rick just lay there, crying like a little girl. Curled up like a fucking insect with his own underwear between his lips. A straight hero, yanked from his throne and tossed into the darkest pits of hell.
“Stop weeping,” I scoffed, nudging him with my foot. “Here, come clean this up. We ain’t done yet.”
Slowly, the 230-pound college athlete lifted himself up. Cum was seeping down his thighs, and his muscular physique gleamed with sweat and tears. To my amusement, I saw his prized abs covered in a layer of thick, goopy white. Despite all that whining, the bitch had creamed himself as I fucked his ass.
Rick crawled toward me, took his boxers from his mouth, and brought his face to my crotch once more. With his tongue, the jock started licking his own ass off my cock. He couldn’t look at me, couldn’t bear to look me in the eyes, just kept his head down and did as he was told. I chuckled at the sight, and ruffled his buzz-cut hair.
“Oh, Ricky,” I grinned, quickly growing hard again. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You have the best ass in the whole goddamned world.”
“T-thank you, s-sir,” the beefcake stammered.
He continued until my dick was glistening with his spit, clean as could get, and I slapped it against his pretty face a couple times.
“Ready for round two?”
He looked so wonderfully hopeless, so perfectly distraught. Even though he normally towered over me, had arms and legs that were thicker than my head, and rocked a manhood of which even Zeus would be jealous, Rick was one of the weakest, most submissive fags I’d ever encountered.
From the moment I had walked into our dorm room, it had been more than clear which one was the boss, and which one the bitch.
Even though he had tried for years to hide it behind all those layers of muscle, all that football and hyper-masculinity, I had seen through him like he was made of glass. This was a bitch, born and bred. A stunning, hunky bitch.
And since he was my roommate, I was the one to claim him.
“P-please, sir… my a-ass hurts so much…” the jock muttered, as I pushed him on his back. I lifted those strong legs, his knees to his head, and placed my cock against his cum-soaked entrance again.
“Sorry, Ricky. You know the deal,” I said. “I helped you stay on the team, and you’re gonna help me get off until my balls are dry as a bone. As for now, I’m afraid they’re still full to the brim, and ready for release.”
I pushed back into him, and his moaning started anew.
In and out, in and out. My rod disappeared all the way into his thick ass, pulled all the way back out, only to slam back into his lubed-up hole. I was stuck in pure fucking heaven.
This time, I was focussing on his pleasure, too. I rammed into his prostate, again and again, sending visible waves of ecstasy through the muscular young hunk. His body was my toy. His fingers clung to the carpet as I pounded his boycunt, his pecs jiggling to the rhythm of my cock, his ass milking my rod. He was mine, and he knew it.
“Eyes up here, big boy,” I grinned, lifting his chin. I stared right into the face of a slut, high on pain and pleasure, cheeks burning red and his mouth fallen open. This was what he’d been created for. This was his true purpose.
“You like that, huh?”
“Nnngh- y-yes, sir…” Ricky moaned, sputtering with every thrust. “P-please f-fuckk my p-pussy, sirr… ohh- f-fuuuckk…”
I laughed, and decided to humor my obedient bitch. With a few more well-aimed jabs at that sweet spot inside him, I easily made my roommate spray a big load all over himself. He moaned and gasped like a perfect whore, coating that ripped torso in gobs and gobs of grade-A semen, bucking his hips into mine.
A beautiful fountain of sperm.
It wasn’t long before I ejaculated again, too. But the night was still young. The both of us were caught in a sex-driven frenzy, and there was no stopping till one of us collapsed.
For hours and hours, I fucked Rick on our bedroom floor, making him cum hands-free over and over again, drenching his perfect body in layers of spunk.
The jock let go of everything he’d ever held dear, and let me turn him into my cum-hungry slut, surrendering like he’d done countless times before.
“M-more…. f-fuuuckk - nnghh- n-need m-more cock… y-yeah…”
His moans mixed with mine, blending with the constant, sloppy sounds of my cock in his ass, and together we melted into one, seemingly endless orgasm.
“Ohhh… f-fuuuuckk!!!”
Several hours later…
“Good night, big boy,” I said, grinning at the unconscious stud at my feet.
The sun had started to come up already.
Rick was lying naked on the floor, brain-dead and fucked out, like an old sock you would find under a high school boy’s pillow. Cum was still seeping from his gaping asshole, spilling from his open mouth, dripping from his face and torso like the glaze on a cake. He was completely spent, utterly ruined, broken and used like a worthless toy.
I just let him lie there, and admired the sight. He looked more beautiful than ever.
Satisfied with the results, I took a couple pictures, wiped myself clean a little, and turned off the light before crawling back into my bed. Finally, I fell asleep.
Poor Ricky.
Tomorrow, he was gonna go back to pretending none of this ever happened.
That’s what he’d done countless times before, and that was the only way he knew how to stay sane. As long as he refused to acknowledge what had happened, he could still face himself in the mirror every day. His brain just shut out all those perverted, horrid memories as a way of self-defense. I couldn’t really blame him.
As long as he kept telling himself I was forcing him to be a fag, he believed that he really wasn’t one. The poor stud could never deal with that reality.
But I knew my roomie. I knew that deep down, under all those layers of suppression, he would remember exactly what I’d done to him, what had happened during the night.
And I knew that dumb, curious, beautiful Ricky was gonna wait with his next paper too, procrastinate until the very end, just long enough until I would be the only one able to save him.
It had happened many times before, and it would happen many, many times more.
That was our little game.
He was the beauty, and I the brains. He the bitch, I the boss.
Just the way it should be.
“Yes, it’s a simple procedure on your shoulder, really. Not to worry, the straps are there for your own protection. Yes, having your legs spread wide in the stirrups is standard. You are comfortable, yes? The first drugs do help a patient relax. I can see their secondary effects, making males exceptionally horny with rock-hard erections, has also taken effect.”
The doctor continued, “Trouble is, the drugs can make a person, in particular good-looking athletic males such as yourself, hallucinate. For instance, many men see me removing their hospital gown, leaving them buck ass naked as I set up a video camera. With the right backdrop, like the one my assistant just brought in, it’ll look just like you’re some slut in a leather bar craving wonton anonymous sex. Being straight, you won’t even think of going into the gay porn store to see your face on a dvd of "Slut Can’t Get Enough.’
"Anyway, it seems patients then think they see me taking a position at their exposed anus, shoving my dick slowly into their virgin asses until I’m balls deep, and then regardless of how they beg me to stop, I keep fucking them until I explode my cum deep into their guts. The whole time, they sport a super-hard erection that they can’t touch due to the restraints. Patients usually start to beg me to let them cum.
"Once I’m done, the patients usually believe I’ve turned their ass over to the other male doctors and male nurses. They all take a turn in the patient’s butt, being verbally abusive and dropping their loads as if the patients were common whores.
"Have you ever been gang-banged before? No? Well, I can see the alarm on your face, but that’s the reason for the restraints. That way you won’t hurt us if you do start to have these hallucinations. It sometimes feels like the fucking goes on for hours, all the while you become more horny and desperate for a release you may or may not get. By the end, the camera will record you begging for cock. Then we’ll fully plug you. Sometimes that’s enough to give you release, and we’ll let you swallow your own cum on camera. Usually, though, it’s more fun to give you the stronger drugs to knock you out. We take bets on how long it will take your erection to go down as we start to operate on your shoulder.
"Not to worry, though. When you wake up, your shoulder will be good as new. And, since the stronger drugs always involve short term memory loss, not a single person has ever remembered a thing about these hallucinations, or even this discussion. I’m just letting you know now that hallucinating about your virgin ass being used as an anal cum dump, and waking up desperate and horny for cock, is perfectly normal.
"I see you have already initialed the consent form apprising you that having a sore anus and some white anal discharge is also normal after this type of shoulder repair procedure. So let’s get started…”
“Oh fuck, you’re going to take my cherry. This can’t be happening. It looks like you’re about to stick your cock inside me. Oh shit, it even feels like it. Oh fuck, there’s nothing I can do. Why is it I feel I need your cock up my ass. My cock’s so fucking hard, I must be fucking gay. You’re cock is so fucking long. I can feel every thrust… Fuck me harder… Oh shit, it looks like there are 10 other men in the room watching me get fucked, and getting hard… I hope that really isn’t a camera recording how much I need to take cock right now… From its position it will only show me taking cock after anonymous cock…”
The procedure, which should normally take no more than a half-hour, took 5 hours that day. According to the bill, it seems they had to bring in a number of male specialists for consultation. He was glad that insurance covered most of the additional operating room rental time he was charged, as well as most of the operating time for the specialists.
With his shoulder soon back to 100%, the sore anus and white discharge he was warned about were soon forgotten as incidental side effects, particularly as he experienced the same effect after the booster shots he got during each of his three follow-up visits. His jaw and throat were sore, too, for some reason, like his jaw had been kept wide open and his throat probed repeatedly. Nevertheless, he recommended this doctor to his coach and to all his friends and teammates. He just hoped they didn’t notice him and his erection when for some reason he started staring at their crotches in the shower after practice.
“Attitude Adjustment”
—
damnd1
A dangerous prisoner undergoes an unexpected procedure
You can find an index to all stories I have written here
Attitude adjustment Officer Smith looked at inmate 62254 with trepidation, glad that he was just one of five guards assigned to the man. Even with his ankles manacled and his arms cuffed behind his back, the man was still dangerous. Smith looked at the prisoner, who was dressed only in white cotton prison issue boxers. He was tightly muscled from a decade behind bars, and his face, neck and torso were covered with black tattoos. The letters “AB” identified the man’s membership of the white supremacist clan, the Aryan Brotherhood, and his racist credentials were supported with swastikas, SS lightning bolts, the numbers 14 and 88, and even the name Adolf Hitler and a likeness of the man that racists idolised. Smith hid the disgust from his expression, but the man in charge of the guards showed no such discretion. Michaels was an African American war vet, built like an ox, and nothing appeared to scare him, in spite of the fact that he was everything that the prisoner despised. 62254 stared at him with cold hatred, but a leather face mask prevented the man from speaking. The mask’s purpose was to stop the inmate from biting; something he had once done to deadly effect when he tore open a guard’s carotid artery with his bare teeth. Nowadays, the man was classified as a AAA prisoner, and everywhere he was transferred, it was under maximum security precautions. “Don’t stare at me like that Curtis, you don’t fucking impress me,” Michaels said. A twinkle of mischief glimmered in the prisoner’s eye and he lunged forwards as though to head-butt Michaels across the bridge of the nose. Michaels didn’t flinch or show the slightest hint of concern. Instead he stared back at Curtis as the other three guards pulled him up short. “You think you’re the big man Curtis, but you won’t be soon. Soon, all you’ll care about is taking it up the ass from a big man.” If looks could kill, Michaels would be dead, but in spite of his aura of menace, for once in his life, Curtis’s anger was impotent. “Unshackle his legs and get them locked in,” Michaels said to another guard. The guard dropped to his knees and removed the shackles from Curtis’s ankles, whilst another guard held the man’s legs together to prevent him kicking. When the shackles were removed, each of the guards firmly gripped a limb and dragged the struggling man’s legs into two shin-high leg restraints standing on the floor. As the man’s heels hit the back of the restraints, straps closed around his ankles and feet, making it impossible for him to remove his legs. “Now his arms, and careful as you undo them, I don’t want to have to fry this motherfucker again,” Michaels said. “I’m not cleaning him when he shits himself.” Michaels was referring to the taser he was holding, and which he had used to subdue Curtis in order for the man to be restrained. With the voltage set far higher than was permitted for law enforcement models, the side effect was a messy voiding of both bowels and bladder. Working two to each arm, the guards carefully uncuffed Curtis’s hands, then forced them into restraints that hung at shoulder height. When both hands were in place, Michael’s pressed a button on the restraint unit, and cuffs within the restraint units tightened, making it impossible for him to escape.
“He’s all yours,” Michaels said, addressing a technician who had been hovering behind him. The man stepped forwards, and entered some commands onto a wireless tablet he was holding. The leg restraints moved apart two and a half feet. The man entered a further command, and the arm restraints lifted, stretching Curtis into a star shape resembling DaVinci’s Vitruvian man. The man’s muscles stood out along the side of his lean chest and all down his stomach. “We need to put the spreader in his mouth,” the technician informed Michaels. Michaels nodded to two of the guards. “Take that gag off. And be careful.” One of the guards undid the leather mask, and Curtis immediately turned and bit at him. Michaels calmly stepped forwards and grasped the convict’s head by the temples, and turned his head back to the front. “Lock him in now,” Michaels said in an even voice. Curtis spat out the last stream of invective that he would get to deliver for at least a year. “Motherfucking cock suckers. You’re dead all of you are fucking dead. Your whore mothers are dead. I’m gonna skullfuck your children in front of you!” Michaels responded calmly. “No Curtis, YOU are the one who will soon be a cock sucker. You’ll be doing nothing. For the next year, you’re not even going to leave this room, much less hurt anyone else.” He nodded to the guard, and the man lowered a frame made of curved metal bars over Curtis’s head. He quickly tightened a series of large screws, which pressed leather padded restraining clamps against Curtis’s head. In a minute, his head was completely immobile. “Open wide,” Michaels said. He pressed his index finger fore-knuckles into pressure points at the hinge on either side of Curtis’s jaw, and the man was forced to open his mouth. As soon as he did, a guard swung a metal frame between his teeth and locked it in place. It had rubber coated arms top and bottom on both sides. The guard twisted another screw-threaded handle and the arms opened, spreading Curtis’s jaws wide open. Curtis screamed and hawked up phlegm, but without the use of his lips, he was unable to launch it far enough to reach the black grinning face two feet in front of him. Michaels raised his finger to his mouth. “Shhhh, shhh.” Then he jammed a soft rubber ball into Curtis’s mouth to muffle his screaming. “You’re going to love this part Curtis. Now’s the bit where we shove a 10 inch dildo up your ass. Considering the number of men that you’ve raped since you’ve been in here, I’m sure you’ll fucking appreciate it.” Michaels tore the man’s boxers from him, leaving the prisoner completely naked. Curtis was impressively well endowed. Even soft, he had a thick six tube of meat hanging between his legs, and fat, high-riding balls that would not look out of place on a young bull. Michaels walked behind Curtis and reached down to the floor. There was a dildo on rod which passed through a hole into the floor. The burly officer pulled the dildo and the rod extended. The officer pulled on a pair of latex gloves, then accepted the tube of lube that was proffered by the technician. He smeared a generous amount onto the unnecessarily large head of the head of the dildo. With one hand, Michael’s spread the cheeks of Curtis’s surprisingly hairless ass. Curtis struggled and grunted, but he could do nothing deny Michaels as he positioned the head of the dildo against his exposed hole. The guard lifted the dildo, forcing it slowly into the thug’s tensed hole. If it was up to him, Michaels would have just jammed it up there, ripping the murdering rapists hole wide open, but then Curtis’s shit would taint his blood leading to septicaemia, and they’d have to take him to the prison hospital whilst he recovered. So Michaels went slow, allowing the man’s hole time to adjust to the dildo. He used the opportunity to taunt the man. “Do you like that Curtis? The feel of a thick cock in your ass? I bet you fucking do. It wouldn’t surprise me if you were already getting hard you racist piece of shit.” To Curtis, being sodomised like this in front of all these other men was almost the worst insult imaginable, and to make it even worse, it was an insult that he could do absolutely NOTHING to prevent. He growled like a feral animal, but in his mind he had gone elsewhere to distract himself. In his mind, he was already taking revenge on Michaels and the other guards. Curtis was imagining all the vicious things that he was going to do to the man when he eventually broke free. Finally, Curtis’s hole spread, and Michaels forced 8 of the 10 inches of rubber up into him. When the dildo reached a mark painted onto its side, Michaels stopped pushing. “Set,” he said. The technician pressed a button on the control pad. “Set,” he confirmed. “Testing.” The technician pressed another button and the dildo withdrew by five inches, its knobbled and deeply ribbed surface stimulating Curtis’s sphincter on the way out. The technician said, “Test.” Michaels grabbed Curtis around the waist and tried to lift the prisoner off the dildo. He could not fully unimpale the man. “It’s good,” he confirmed, verifying that Curtis would not be able to lift himself free. He walked back to the front so that he was facing the prisoner, then cupped the man’s massive nuts in his fist. Each was the size of a small orange. He squeezed the helpless balls slowly, until Curtis grunted. “Quite a set of nuts on you boy, and you’re gonna get to use ‘em too. See how they feel after you’ve cum five or ten thousand times. From what I hear, spending a few months being milked like a cow and cumming 20 times a day is either gonna kill your appetite for rape once and for all, or it’s gonna turn you into a dribbling bitch who‘ll do anything to cum. Course that won’t be a problem seeing as we’re also gonna be training you to crave cock. It’s my bet that in a year’s time, you’ll be begging to take another cock up your ass.” Curtis looked at him with malice. Much as he wanted to stay in the imaginary place where he was stamping repeatedly on the black man’s grinning face, reducing it to a pulp of blood and bone, the man’s words forced themselves through his mental protective shell, and now they were stabbing him right where it hurt the most. Curtis remembered the first time he was touched against his will. He was 12, in the woods with an older boy; 17; Jared. They had hung together for a while, when Jared suggested that they jack off together. It was a game that the kid had taught Curtis a few months earlier, and it was one that Curtis was only too happy to play. Even then he’d had a long, if somewhat slender prick for his age, although not the hair to go with it. Jared seemed impressed. Except this time, things went different. Jared suggested that Curtis suck his dick, and when Curtis refused. The older boy forced him, and then raped him to add insult to injury. Walking home afterwards, the seat of his underwear bloody, Curtis felt like the biggest coward ever for not biting the kid’s dick off or fighting back harder. Two years later, Jared was Curtis’s first murder victim. Curtis lured him back to the woods under the pretence of a repeat performance, then bludgeoned him with a rock out in the same woods, before sodomising him to death with a branch. From that moment on, Curtis just became angrier and more violent, never able to erase the shame of the time when, in his mind, he didn’t fight hard enough. But now, he was that powerless, sickened 12 year old kid all over again. He stared at Michaels with a hatred that almost choked him, as a lifetime of violence and compensation lead him full circle. Michaels dropped to one knee. He gripped the neck of Curtis’s scrotum, trapping both huge eggs in the softly wrinkled, brown skin at the bottom. He pulled a Y shaped mount up from the floor. It looked like a tuning fork made of tubular steel coated in rubber. He pulled the fork across the stretched skin, holding the enormous balls down away from the convict’s body. Then Michaels pulled a lever, and the horizontal fork lowered, stretching the scrotum still further. The ovoid lumps were each clearly visible, pressed against the now-tight skin. Michaels lifted another piece of equipment between Curtis’s legs. It looked like a large soap dish, but the inside curve was covered with dozens of small latex nodes that resembled tiny octopus suckers. At the centre of each one was a small metal probe. Michaels lifted the bowl-shaped device until it was pressed firmly up against the underside of his prisoner’s testicles, then he locked it in place. “In case you’re wondering what’s going on,” he narrated, “that thing you just felt against your nuts is the state of the art in testicle massage. Those tiny rubber things you feel are gonna drive your nuts wild, and the metal contacts are going to be lightin’ your balls like you’re a Christmas tree. They’re gonna make you so horny, you’ll be going out of your mind to cum. Within two weeks, your nuts will be making fifty times the jizz they make now, and you’re gonna need it! Time to give it a test.” Michaels turned to the technician and the man activated the testicle stimulator. At once, every single one of the tiny rubber nodes started vibrating in tiny circles and pumping in and out. The pulsations moved around the surface of Curtis’s nuts in complex undulations that felt like tiny finger tips lightly tapping his nuts. Curtis tensed, surprised at how powerfully arousing the sensation was. Then the technician turned on the power and the contacts in each node transmitted a low voltage into the man’s testicles. Curtis jerked as though he’d been kicked in the nuts, but it wasn’t pain he was reacting to. The erotic sensations in his balls leapt a hundredfold. Although the current and the vibrations only played along the lower hemisphere of each testicle, he felt the sensations through every millimetre of his huge breeders. Curtis snorted and gasped as he tried to resist the overwhelming ecstasy he was feeling, but he had no chance. The vibrations went straight to the root of his dick, and in spite of his disgust at being lit up in front of these men that he despised, his cock rapidly thickened, rising like a canon preparing for firing. Curtis felt his dick betraying him and he snarled his hatred through the jaw spreader. “Like that do you buttercup?” Michaels asked, patting the multiple killer on the butt as though he was a girlfriend. Curtis flinched and tried to move away from the intimate touch, but he was still impaled and helpless, so all he could do was twitch like a fish on a line as the guard demeaned him in front of the other guards. He started to mentally add to the things that he would do to Michaels if he ever got the opportunity. It was an activity Curtis usually enjoyed, but this time he could barely concentrate as the maddeningly arousing feeling between his legs drew his attention. He could feel his dick straining as hard as it did for the hottest bitch he’d ever fucked. He knew it was the machine that was turning him on, but did he have to be so motherfucking HARD?! He couldn’t see it, but his dick was pointing up at an angle of nearly 60 degrees like a horny teenager naked in front of his first fuck. Thicker than a can of Red Bull, 9 inches long, with veins bulging along its length, it looked as though he could fuck hippos to death with it. Officer Smith looked at Curtis’s impressive tool and imagined all the women the man had raped with it. Then the image of that ugly brown meat being forced into the anus of one of his male victims flashed across his mind. Smith frowned in distaste and tried to push the thought away, but he couldn’t help but imagine how much damage a cock that huge must have done on the way in. A glistening bead of precum appeared at the head of Curtis’s cock. Michaels reached out with a thumb and roughly smeared it across the man’s bloated plum-like glans. “You’re getting pretty heated there boy. I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned out to be one of those homo-sex-yew-alls.” Curtis could say nothing, and he wasn’t going to grunt like a performing monkey to let Michaels have the pleasure of knowing his taunt had hit home. He stared straight ahead in silence, but his body betrayed him, and he tensed his abs as he mentally pushed away the insult – and the excitement caused by Michaels’ touch. Michaels patted the convict’s stomach. “Nice abs but I don’t roll that way boy. No point in showing ’em off for me.” More precum appeared at the head of Curtis’s cock. He was a drooler at the best of times, but with his balls working on overtime, there was a small river of precum oozing from his cock twirling in slow motion like warm treacle. His dick started to twitch up and down as he body was turned on beyond endurance. “Looks like you’re about ready to bust a nut there boy. Hold on a moment can you?” Curtis had absolutely no control over his body. His nuts, his entire cock and his groin were just a single vibrating region of pleasure. The technician pressed a button and the anal piston started working. Michaels moved out of the way and the technician moved in and pressed Curtis’s cock down with his left hand until it was pointing below 90 degrees. In his other hand, the technician held a glass beaker, which he placed over the purple head of Curtis’s cock. Curtis felt the dildo thrusting into his hole, and to his dismay, almost immediately he felt an orgasm building. He growled with impotent primal rage as he tried to hold it back, but just 30 seconds after the anal piston had begun, the man was ejaculating into the beaker with an orgasm larger than any he ever remembered having in his life. The first spurt hit the glass bottom so hard that the technician could feel it hitting, and the subsequent squirts were long and fulsome. Officer Smith looked away as the man came, as much for his own self respect, as out of fear or gay panic, but his colleagues felt no such compunction, and watched with fascination and hard dicks as the man delivered a third of a coffee mug of cum into the beaker. “Well, well, looks like I was right about you Curtis,” he said. “All it took to get you to blow your load like a faucet bursting was a hard cock up your ass.” Ridicule was not part of the treatment, but Michaels loved to goad men like Curtis: brutal men who had spent a lifetime asserting their masculinity upon others. Curtis’s entire existence was predicated upon his status as top dog; the pack leader that all the dogs rolled on their backs for, and now, with his privates exposed to men he would not even consider worthy of spitting on, much less associating with, Curtis was being played like a bitch on heat. Michaels knew that there was absolutely no man on earth that could defy the irresistible combination of testicular titillation, electro stim, and anal massage, but it gave him perverse pleasure to challenge Curtis’s manhood, especially as the man had such a hatred of blacks. Finally the gusher of Curtis’s ejaculation slowed, then reduced to a few half squirts, then a dribble, then ceased. His nuts were aching from the epic orgasm, but the machine continued to work on him, keeping him hard and horny. The technician turned the anal piston off. Curtis was relieved that it was no longer reaming him. Giving him feelings he’d rather not have. The feeling of fullness reminded him of Jared’s rape, but the undeniable pleasure as it had bumped across his sphincter was a sensation that nauseated him. Only faggots felt pleasure in their holes, and he was no faggot. He was a faggot killer. Michaels took the beaker from the technician and lifted it in front of Curtis’s face. He sloshed the glass cup from side to side, and Curtis’s thick semen slopped against the sides stickily. Michaels spoke to him again. “We have another treat for you Curtis,” he confided. He yanked the rubber ball from Curtis’s mouth. The technician pulled an armature down from above the prisoner’s head. On the end, Curtis could see yet another dildo. It was black and extremely lifelike, right down to a heavy set of swinging nuts in a soft scrotum. The technician positioned the dildo by Curtis’s gaping mouth, and typed on the pad to set the outer extent of its travel. Then the man pushed the dildo into Curtis’s mouth. Curtis screamed in rage as the prosthetic negro penis was pushed into his mouth. His scream came to a gurgling end as it pushed against the back of his throat. The technician pressed a button to calibrate the inner limit. Curtis could feel a weighty pair of simulated balls in a hairy scrotum resting against his chin. He was incensed at the violation, but in spite of his rage and his fierce survival instinct, Curtis would happily have died then and there rather than suffer another second of this powerless indignity. “You’re probably thinking that we’re doing all this just to humiliate and break you boy,” Michaels said, “and you better believe, if it was down to me, that would be reason enough. But the fact is, the eggheads have discovered that if macho males like you can be turned into gay, cum slurping whores, it tends to calm you down. That’s what all this is about. You’re going to spend the next year hooked up to this thing.” Curtis’s eyes widened in near hysterical horror. “In a minute, we’re going to pull down a hood, and it will transmit non-stop porn straight to your brain, 18 hours day, EVERY day. Gay porn. And while it’s playing, you’re going to feel your hole filled, and balls slapping against your chin, and a fat black dick in your mouth, all in perfect time with the action. And there’s NOTHING you can do to keep it out of your head, or stop yourself from being turned on.” Curtis was completely helpless, his body and his soon mind, under the control of these tormentors. His throat was filled. He snorted his fury through his nose but it came out sounding strangled and weak, and that made him even angrier. He couldn’t even move his head to give a cold stare to the guards around him in an attempt to intimidate them. He stopped making noises and stared stoically straight ahead, determined not to give Michaels any more sport than his predicament was already providing. “Now I know what you’re thinking Curtis, just ‘cause you have to watch gay porn, don’t mean you have to enjoy it right? Ain’t nobody gonna force you to get into it huh? Wrong. Those electrodes on your nuts don’t just turn you on, they can stop you cumming. The only reason you popped your cork just now was because we LET you. So here’s how it’s gonna work. One day, you get to get cum 10-20 times, all in perfect time with the action. Sure, you’re gonna know it’s all just a fake reality, but your dick ain’t gonna know the difference. Your hole ain’t gonna know. Your mouth ain’t gonna know, and pretty soon, you’re gonna start finding the lines blurring in your head. Anyway, the next day, you get to suck virtual dick and take virtual meat in your hole, all while being turned on like a dog in heat, but this time. You don’t get to cum until everyone else has cum. That’s gonna be 10-20 black dicks you get to service. That’s gonna take an hour or two each time, and all the while you’re so horny you’d kill your own mother to get off. But you can hurry it along by sucking that meat in your mouth, and squeezing on the chopper in your asshole. And that’s gonna repeat five or six times a day. I guess you’re starting to figure how this is gonna work out for you. One day cumming non-stop, and the next desperately sucking dicks so that you get to cum. Now I know you think you’re a tough guy, but I guarantee you, just a couple of weeks of that routine, and cock is gonna start to look pretty good to you, black or otherwise. Within a week most are men so desperate to cum that that they suck dicks like they were natural born faggots. You all think you’re so fucking dangerous and brave ‘cause you can take pain, but not one of you can deal with ecstasy without blubbing like a baby who lost his pacifier. In your case, I realise you’re something special, so we’re using an extra piece of equipment, just to make absolutely sure that you enjoy the experience.”
Michaels pulled down one more piece of equipment from above Curtis’s head. It was a long articulated hose. The long curving shape and livid crimson colour put Curtis in mind of a stallion’s hard dick as it was preparing to mate. Michaels paused with the head of the hose a couple of feet in front of Curtis’s eyes. It was transparent and filled with small flesh-coloured nodules, like the densely packed villi inside a human intestine. They were awash with slippery lubrication. Curtis looked at the device. His brow was deeply furrowed and his expression of seething hatred remained undiminished, but his sense of trepidation grew. On cue, the technician pressed a button that activated the head, and all of the tiny fleshy nodules stared waving and rippling. The movement had been inspired by the feeding mechanism of a sea anemone. “I’ll give you one guess where this is going,” Michaels said. Curtis had already figured as much, and he refused to show any reaction to the guard’s comments. Instead he stared ahead, doing his best to project an air of detached indifference. Michaels pulled the device down until it was in line with Curtis’s straining penis, then he placed the end over the man’s swollen glans. It closed, enveloping the entire massive helmet in a tennis ball sized massed of short roiling latex buds. In spite of himself, Curtis let out a trembling gasp, “Uh-h-h-hu” as it touched him. He was shocked at how intensely pleasurable it was. He tensed his stomach again in a futile effort to resist it. “Yeah, that’s how most guys react,” Michaels acknowledged. A couple of the guards snickered at Curtis’s reaction. Curtis was holding his rock hard abs tense and breathing in short gasps as he struggled against the tiny nodules that were teasing every millimetre of his glans. He was forcing himself to direct his thoughts away from the almost unbearably arousing feelings in his groin. He was out in the woods again, this time hunting with his father: the man who had first taught him to hate blacks. It was a time when he was happy. Before Jared. Before his father had left them. But his thoughts wouldn’t hold. He suddenly noticed to his dismay, that the tiny nodules were warm. Like the inside of a whore’s mouth. It was too much and then he was cumming again. It was less than a minute since the hood had been placed over the head of his cock, and less than five minutes since the orgasm of his life, and already he giving up another huge load. The guards saw Curtis’s thick jizz squirting into the transparent part of the milking head and chuckled. Michaels moved close and patted Curtis on the cheek, like a Don bestowing his approval. “Yeah boy, we’re gonna have no trouble breaking you. No trouble at all.” Michaels lowered the hood over Curtis’s head, and the technician activated the projector. In Curtis’s mind, he was in a room with two black men. He was on his hands and knees. One was behind and the other was in front. He knew it was just an illusion. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the images, and tried to scream against the cock that was filling his mouth to mask the sound of their voices, but nothing worked. The men started fucking him at both ends, and he could feel the dildos pumping in and out. He went crazy, wriggling against his bonds, but he could barely move. He knew that the cock in his mouth was just heated latex, but it felt so real as the head slid back and forth across his tongue. The one in his rectum was sliding in and out in perfect timing with the pumping of the man who was fucking him. And worst of all, he was so turned on; so motherfucking hard. “Yeah man, you take it good,” the man slowly pumping his ass was saying. “If you squeeze and make it good for me, I’ll make it good for you after I cum.” Curtis knew that he was being programmed and he fought against it with every ounce of his mental strength. But already, a small part of him wanted to clench his anus so that the black man inside him could enjoy the experience more and let him cum. But now the machine would not let him cum. His cock stood rigidly to attention, its head bloated like an over-inflated balloon. His nuts felt to Curtis as though they had swollen too. His entire groin was just one huge glowing mass of arousal. In spite of himself, he started raising his groin towards the milker, thrusting to hasten an orgasm that would not be permitted for two more hours yet. Curtis heard the guards laughing as they left him to his exquisite torment…
Epilogue - One year later Curtis had his arms cuffed behind him as the guards led him to his new cell. The door opened and three pairs of eyes turned towards him. He stared back at his new cellmates, then entered the cell willingly. The door shut behind him. He looked at his black cellmates one after the other. They stared at his racist tattoos, then grinned. Curtis licked his lips slowly.
“On your knees boy,” the largest of the men said. Curtis complied without question, supporting his chest on a bunk. The man moved behind him. The other two moved to the sides ready to restrain Curtis if needed. The man pulled Curtis’s boxers down around his knees. The white man raised his ass ready to be fucked. “This bitch is already fucking hard,” the man to his left said. Curtis looked over his shoulder at the man behind him with a smile. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
http://damnd1.tumblr.com/
… for more milked men visit milkingcocks.tumblr.com
He had been raised in the safe zone. A perfect ass but nobody to appreciate it. He loved reading all the contraband porn he could get his hands on but had never experienced the absolute please of getting fucked. One day he decided to run away to the outlands. He hopped a train and ended up at this town. It was a trade post where many monsters, creatures and demons gathered, coexisting semi-peacefully with the human population. The train dropped him off in the human part of town.
He knew his butt was awesome and wanted to try showing it off for the first time. Here there was no morality police to stop him from sagging his pants. In fact he could sag them as low as he wanted. He enjoyed the stares and horny looks he earned, even from the girly-boys who almost resembled women.
He wasn’t walking ten minutes when he was stopped by a tall muscular man a few decades older than him.
“Hey, are you new in town?” “Um, yeah I guess I just moved here.” “You need a job?”
He offered a business card with an address and the name of a bar. He would need to support himself now, and working at a bar wasn’t the worst thing. He agreed to show up at the bar at 5pm.
He didn’t know it but the bar wasn’t looking for a waiter or a bartender or a busboy. They needed a cumdump. Most of the patrons of the bar are non-humans: minotaurs, werewolves, vulpans, spirits, demons, and monsters from far and wide. When they drank and lost their inhibitions there was only one way to prevent a rampage on the locals: having a handy cumdump on standby.
They had five holes in the wall next to the bar. Normally trough each hole was presented a nice tight booty for the patrons to enjoy. However it was very tough work, many huge cocks per night. They just had a hard time holding onto staff. Some quit, those that didn’t were eventually so fucked out their minds broke and they became thralls. At that point they were sold to a patron or released into the woods.
The bar’s owner was nervous because his last cumdump had been sucked dry by a cum vampire last night, leaving him without a single hole to offer the numerous, rowdy patrons that would show up tonight. That’s why he hit the streets to try and recruit new staff by opening time. When he saw the perfect butt of that sagger he knew he had to have him. The customers would go crazy over a tight young virgin with round ass checks. The owner could tell just by looking at him he was a virgin.
When the boy arrived at the “Hole in the Wall: Bar and Slutporium” he was handed a drink they told him was a mint julep. It was actually a lust leaf julep, and had him naked and begging to be used in a matter of minutes. He was installed in his hole with legs and arms restrained. He would be having enough hands free orgasms as it was, stroking would only make this more difficult on himself.
Early on the bar had some humans in it, some of which used the cumdump, taking his cherry. Soon though the humans left and a different crowd filled the musky room. Early on a visiting werewolf pack used him to relieve their cum filled balls. The alpha went first forcing the no-longer-a-virgin to take his big knot. Then the six betas had their turn, filling him with hot slimy jizz. Then the two human sigmas the pack owned were ordered to lick the cum out of his stretched-yet-still-remarkably-tight butt.
A drunk minotaur had complained loudly to the bartender that there was only one cumdump open today. He didn’t like to wait in line, but when it was his turn (between a slime tentacle monster and two giggling vulpans) he seemed to enjoy himself. He pounded away mercilessly on the tight rump in front of him. By now the lust leaf had worn off and the sagger was loudly begging to be let go. The pleading seemed to get the minotaur off and he was soon shooting the biggest load the boy had taken yet.
Near last call a lust demon stepped up to the hole. He had a twelve inch cock that vibrated and was as thick as a werewolf’s knot. The cumdump (that’s how he thought of himself now) merely whimpered as he was stretched out. The lust demons copious precum renewed his horniness and soon he was thrusting back at the enormous cock. The demon projected images into the boy’s mind. They felt completely real to the boy, like waking dreams. The images were pulled from his own mind, his deepest darkest fantasies, that he would never willing share with anyone. He was getting fucked naked on a busy street corner. Then he was licking his coach’s feet clean after a long sweaty run. Then the fantasy changed, he was still licking something but it took him a moment to realize it was his brother’s fat cock which promptly blasted warm man milk into his mouth.
Now the lust demon was ready to cum and wanted the cumdump to cum handsfree too. He made the final fantasy feel ten times more real and bring ten times more pleasure. The boy was getting fucked, hard, not in a bar but his old bedroom. Who was the hairy man making him feel like a total slut? The man looked up and made eye contact, and the cumdump started shaking in orgasm. From behind the wall, everybody in the bar could hear the cumdump scream: “Please fuck me Daddy!” as he shot out the last little dribble of semen he had in him. His ass clenched and milked the lust demon to completion. As the demon pulled out the projection ended and the boy got to hear a whole rowdy bar laugh at him, knowing that they heard him getting fucked by his Dad.
At closing time the boy was laid to rest on a cot in the backroom. It had cum stained sheets but he didn’t mind as his own ass was leaking even more cum onto them. In the morning the owner came down to visit.
“Ready for another night’s work?”
“What time do I start? “ He asked grinning.
So much cum after a long time edging~
Cum fountain~
FInd more at here~