Author: admin

  • I’ll Do Anything You Want

    2: Whiplash

    The morning after our Friday night encounter, I could barely move around in my bed or sit. Unable to rise until 2pm, I enjoyed the calm and comfort of a weekend day with nothing to do, and replaying in my mind what Vinnie had done to me. I did not dare jerk off. He hadn’t responded to my text.

    Once I got out of the bed I managed to drag myself to the window. Parked in front of Vinnie’s house was a car I was familiar with from school. It belonged to Teddy, one of Vinnies friends. He was a football player (normal, European football, sorry for editorializing), a tall, wiry guy with light blond hair and a perpetual smirk. It wasn’t strange for them to hang out, and I even participated once in a while, playing video games or just chilling.

    This time, no call or text came. I spent the day hanging by my window, smoking, scrolling and spying. A few times I saw them in the backyard, but nothing more. I could hear them laughing and the noise of been cans opening. 

    Teddy left around 9pm. I saw him with Vinnie in the backyard, trying to convince him to accompany him, and then leaving and Vinnie going back in. I didn’t move. I’d only moved to piss and shower. 

    About an hour later the text came. It was the same text I’d received countless times before : 

    – weedover? –

    Sleepover + weed. As we always did. I responded immediately that I was on my way, grabbed my weed and skins, changed into sweatpants and fled my bedroom into the backyard and through to his.

    When I came into the studio he was sitting on the couch facing the tv, zoning out in front of Netflix, a burning stick between his fingers and a beer in the other hand. He was wearing a wifebeater and soccer shorts with tall white socks, kinda lounging around. “Bro, beer yourself and come over,” he said, “I’m watching some bullshit.”

    For about two hours, everything was normal. As if he hadn’t raped me the night before, in the very bed that stood a few meters from us. We barely talked about girls, for once, but rather about school, friends, a party next weekend, and we played a bit on the console. 

    “Teddy was here this afternoon,” Vinnie said at some point, “but he needed some R&R, guy time, yeah? Sorry I didn’t invite you, lil bro.”

    “It’s okay, Vinnie.”

    “I saw you by your window.” He didn’t say it mean but it left us both silent as the remark hung in the air. “That’s why I said I’m sorry.”

    “Yeah, it’s – it’s really alright, Vinnie. You… You decide.”

    Still nonchalant, he said, “Do I?”

    “Yeah, I mean, it’s your house, you invite whoever you want.” From the amused look he gave me, I gathered I’d saved it. We were playing pretend, I realized. “Anyway, how’s Teddy?”

    “Broke up with his bitch, so angry and horny. She busted his balls for three months and didn’t even let him hit. Cunt.” He took a drag off the joint, passed it over and said with a flat, bored tone, “Just for comparison’s sake, let’s take you. When you finally get a boyfriend, how long you’re gonna make him wait to hit?”

    I was paralyzed. I’d never officially come out and we were pretending nothing had happened so I didn’t expect him to bring up something along those lines. As he turned his eyes towards me, I pretended I was only thinking about my answer. 

    “It’s okay, lil bro, I’m not gonna judge your answer if it’s too slutty. Or too uptight.”

    My eyes cast downwards, I replied in a whisper, “Probably if he’s my boyfriend that means he’s already hit, you know.”

    He laughed warmly and clapped me on the back. “Exactly, man! Get it while it’s hot!”

    And we went back to playing.

    An hour later it was time for good night blunts. Tonight however, as we started rolling, he said, “Two each, ok?” That was barely a question. Though he was still friendly, it was a clear order.

    As we got under the blankets and lit up, he took out his phone. “Got some stuff to show you, but you gotta be cool about it, yeah? Just like my home videos, no talking about this to anyone.”

    The video he pulled was a phone filmed by another. A Snap conversation was open and I could see whoever was talking had sent each other nudes, male and female.

    Then Teddy’s voice came on : “Look at what she sent me, man, and she won’t let me fuck” and his finger started scrolling through. She was showing breasts, pussy and ass. In between were pictures of Teddy’s body and cock. “Look at what she had me send her just to do nothing about it,” Teddy said again as the conversation turned to videos of him jerking off.

    My breath was caught. 

    “What do you think little man?” asked Vinnie all proud. “Finally found a video for the both of us. Pussy and cock. You like Teddy?”

    I hesistated. “Yeah, he’s cool.”

    “Nah, bro, I mean, like-like. You think he’s hot?”

    “Yeah… yeah.”

    “Well, look,” and he typed on the screen to send me the video. “Now you can start your own little collection.” And we went back to watching. Vinnie made lots of comments about Teddy’s ex girlfriend, her body and what he’d do to her, and at some point, while Teddy’s cock came back on screen, he said, “Dumb bitch, look at the fucking weapon she could have been taking.”

    “Maybe she was afraid of it hurting,” I suggested.

    “Fuck that. Real dick lovers wouldn’t hesitate, right?” He planted his eyes in mine. “Would you?”

    I turned back to the paused video on the screen. Teddy’s cock fully displayed. It was perfectly straight, appropriately veiny, and shiny with precum. 

    “No, I wouldn’t, I don’t think,” I finally admitted.

    “Fucker told me he had 8 inches,” Vinnie said with disdain. “I thought I’d be bigger but we’re the same length. I’m thicker, though.”

    Soon after the video was nearing the end. The last thing the girl sent was a 30 second video of her fingers playing with her pussy lips. Vinnie talked through all of it, calling her a nasty slut and encouraging her as if she were listening. Then we saw the last thing Teddy sent : a 15 second video of himself nutting all over his abs, filmed in the mirror. We watched that completely silent, then Vinnie turned off the screen, finished his first blunt and got the second. “Did you like it?”

    “Yeah.” Then, with more confidence: “Yes, I did. Thanks for sending it to me. I won’t say anything.”

    “No worries, man. So… you’re gonna jerk it to Teddy?” 

    There was not hint of mockery in his voice so I answered truthfully, “I used to already, kinda, with his insta pics.”

    “Nice,” he replied.

    I finished my first blunt too and picked up the second. When i settled back, laying on the bed, Vinnie said, “So, you never really came out to me.”

    “I’m sorry,” I replied too honestly. I could not figure out what he was playing at. “I thought you’d be mad.”

    “Oh.” As I looked at him I saw he was actually surprised. “Honestly I always thought it was because you had a crush on me or something.” 

    Now it was my turned to be shocked. “Oh, uh, I mean, you’re definitely hot but -“

    “Thanks, lil bro!” He was smiling like I was the first person to ever compliment him.

    “It’s – you’re welcome. It’s just… it’s not like a crush.”

    “No? What do you mean?”

    “Like… I’m not doodling our names together in my notebook or dreaming of you being my boyfriend.”

    “But you do think I’m hot.” Not a question. A reminder.

    “Yeah, Vinnie. I mean, you get lots of girls so it’s not surprising.”

    “Sure isn’t,” he chuckled to himself. “But what do you like about me?”

    I suddenly realized the friendly way he was acting, ignoring the rape, all that was just to get me to play along with a new thing. He had enough of teasing me with his sextapes. We were doing something new.

    So I said, “You sure you really wanna know?”

    “Hell yeah, little man. You know everything about my tastes in girls, you’ve even seen my videos. If you’ve seen my dick,” he added, nicely eluding the fact I’d had it in me, “you can tell me a few embarrassing things. Sooooo, what do you like about me?”

    He played the situation with humor so I chuckled along. Sure I was deeply ill at ease, but I meant what I said in my text : I’d do anything. I’d offered to keep me around just to beat, so why not this?

    “Well, I like your face, first off. You’re a pretty boy, but you know that.”

    “Sure do, girls say so all the time.”

    “But that’s all they say, right?” I teased him as much as I allowed myself. “I like your muscles. The fact that you have some but are still skinny and wiry, not a stack of meat like some gymbro.” Vinnie smiled at that. “I like your long hairy legs. I like your feet, bare but also when you wear white socks and slides. Should I keep going?”

    “Fuck yeah,” he smiled back. “No one’s ever said something like that to me. Before you keep going, though, I gotta know… what would you do with my legs?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Like, I get a foot fetish. Or muscles, I’ve seen porn. Legs fetish, though? Like, if we did stuff, what would my legs be good for?”

    I got a bit of confidence from his pleasant reaction, so I answered, “I’ll tell you if you send me the video of you from last summer where you’re fucking so fast it slips out and you almost put it in her ass.”

    He considered that a moment, smiled, grabbed me by the shoulders and brought us closer together on the bed. “Answer all my questions and you’ll get the whole collection.”

    Without even thinking it through, I nestled closer into him and inhaled his smell. It was a mix of sweat, beer and weed. “For real?”

    “For real, lil bro.”

    I wanted to sink my face into his armpit. There I was, cuddling with my rapist, getting hard , and flushed like a teenage girl. “Thank you, Vinnie “

    “Don’t thank me yet, lil babe, you gotta tell me about the legs.”

    I made it like I didn’t notice the change and started stuttering an answer. “Well, like, imagine I’m, like, sucking your dick or licking your balls or a… anyway like, on my knees -“

    “Yeah, I can see it, between my legs.”

    “Yeah… well, like, I like the idea of your legs just, like, over my shoulders, like, keeping me down, or wrapping against my neck…”

    “Freaky!” he responded with a celebratory tone. Then he sqeezed my shoulders. “See? Not that bad to admit it.”

    “You’re right, it’s okay.”

    He turned to me, lowered his voice and said in a conspirational tone, “It even made me kinda hard to think about strangling some bitch with my legs while she’s choking on me. You got some good ideas, kid. Definitely worth some videos.”

    “Thanks, Vinnie.”

    “If you really wanna thank me,” still with the same tone, “there’s something you could do for me.”

    I swallowed audibly before saying, “Anything, Vinnie.”

    “You remember yesterday when I was showing you videos and I let you touch it over the pants?” He said it like he hadn’t made me do it without asking or mentioning it until now. Like I’d meekly asked if I could perhaps touch it, a bit, over the pants.

    “Yeah, I remember.” Fully committed to the game, I added, “Thanks for that as well, Vinnie.”

    “Hey, it’s all good, little man. It was good for me too. That’s why I’m wondering if you can do it again. Like, if we get like this,” and he pushed me closer into him, “and you let me hold your blunt, you can slip your right hand under the comforter. Just tell me when you wanna smoke.”

    I barely hesitated before saying, “Of course, Vinnie.”

    He immediately picked the joint from my fingers and put it down on the ashtray next to him, then looked at me expectantly as I lowered my arm under the duvet and reached his belly. I kept going down, slowly, until grabbing his bulge. “Oh, fuck yeah,” he moaned, “press on it, lil babe, see how hard it gets.”

    “Yes, Vinnie,” and I did just that for a minute. Save for breath and sheets, we were silent as i got him from half to fully hard, clutching his growing dick in my hand.

    “Tell me more, bro,” he finally said. “What else do you like about me.”

    My face was already half in there so I turned to towards his armpit. “The smell of your sweat.”

    “Fuck yeah, kid. Girls want me to smell like perfume. You really are a freaky one.”

    “Sorry, Vinnie.”

    He laughed mockingly. “That was a compliment, idiot. You’re finally getting on my level. Hey, if you like my smell, you should get your hand inside my boxers and then smell it.” He said that so naturally and with a pleasant tone. With an inviting smile, he waited for me to do that.

    I slowly inched my fingers into his boxers. His cock was already hard and tenting the fabric but even so, it took me a minute to lift it and slide into the moist heat down there. His pubes tickled the inside of my hand on the way down. As i finally grabbed his cock, he took a deep breath.

    “Yeah, squeeze it a moment,” then breathed out. His arm around my shoulders pulled us closer together. “Grab my balls, now,” so I lowered my hand until i did, my fingers closing around a large, hairy sacks. “Let your hand soak up my sweat, lil bro, take a minute…”

    And I did. Slowly breathing in his armpit sweat, I gave his balls gentle squeezes for what felt like a few minutes. Twice, he brought the smoking joint to my lips so I could inhale. 

    When he felt I was both high and ready enough, he moved his mouth to my ears and whispered, “Go ahead, babe, smell me.”

    When I finally pulled my hand out of the covers, I cupped it over my nose as fast as I could and inhaled. The smell was dizzying. I closed my eyes and breathed in again and again until I remembered I wasn’t alone.

    Vinnie was smiling. “What do you think?”

    I did not hesitate a single second to tell him the truth. “I wish I could sleep in there with my nose in your balls.”

    “I could wrap you in my legs,” he suggested.

    “Fuck, yeah.”

    He laughed in a friendly manner and so did I. “You can get your hand back in there, if you want.” As I did, he pushed the joint to my lips. “You know, I have an idea, something that could be good for the both of us. But you gotta be chill about it, okay?”

    “Always, Vinnie. Anything you want.”

    “Good babe. Listen,” before I could really register the new nickname, “We’re best friends, right? And we help each other, right?”

    “Of course, Vinnie.”

    “So, I’m thinking… you don’t have a boyfriend, ever, and you don’t seem ready to come out, and I’m never getting enough pussy, you know? Always horny over here.” We laughed at that but I let him carry on, not knowing where he was going with this when he has forcefully fucked me the night before. “So I’m thinking, we could, you know, help-help each other like that because I did like it when you made me come over the clothes the other night, and I don’t mind you touching me right now or the way we’re laying together right now. So if you want, I can be, like, a substitute boyfriend until you get one. We can cuddle like we’re doing, and you can jack it for me or…” he bit his lip dramatically, “I think I’d be okay with you sucking it for now.”

    “Really?” I was choking out before realizing he was somehow gaslighting me and I wasn’t fighting back.

    “Yeah… I’m not yet completely comfortable with the idea of making it with a guy, you know, but I’d try for you. You’d have to be under the covers though, so I don’t see a guy on my dick. But that’s just for now and you said you wanna sleep in there -“

    “I really do, Vinnie,” I said squeezing his dick, at the border of jacking him off outright. 

    “Well…” He pushed the dwindling joint between my lips. “Get your fill and go down there, babe. I’m gonna turn off the lights once you’re there and this can be our bedtime. You can stay as long as you want.” He made a shy smile and looked down. “I’m sorry, I don’t feel comfortable kissing you yet… I’m a bad boyfriend already.”

    “No, Vinnie, don’t worry, you don’t have to. I’m just gonna take care of you like a good… like a good girlfriend should.” I la

    yed a quick, soft kiss on the side of his armpit. “Thank you for letting me.”

    “Anything for my lil bro.”

    The arm around my shoulder started pushing me down, gently, but without ambiguity, as he finished the last of the joint. Soon I was submerged by the blanket, my mouth kissing at his ribs, his hips, his boxers as I was going down.

    As soon as I positioned myself between his legs, he wrapped both his legs around my body, settling his feet at my lower back. Unable to lower his boxers, I just shoved my nose in there while slowly pulling his balls then cock through the leg hole.

    There was no holding back. I could stay there as long as I wanted so I wasn’t about to draw it out. I slipped my lips over his tip to open up the foreskin and washed it with my tongue to get any and all precum left. 

    In the total dark I still couldn’t see his cock and only knew how sizeable it was based on videos. So I wasted no time. The head cleaned off, I dove down on the pole until my lips reached pubes. Through the covers I heard a moan, and I felt the legs around me squeezing harder and harder the longer I kept his cock balls deep in my throat, as if trying to break my ribs.

    I kept his fat cock in there until I cried, slowly spreading my spit to his balls and massaging them with it. Then I started sucking outright, for long minutes, alternating between throat and milking precum out of the tip. It was completely uncomfortable and I couldn’t care less. The comforter was so heavy and we were so close that we both were drenched in sweat. I could barely breathe and his legs were squeezing out of my lungs what little air I could inhale. I kept drooling and drooling, drowning his hairy balls that I wouldn’t let go off with liters of spit and precum.

    And I had no idea how long I was down there. At some point, I felt the comforter move a bit, then a hand grand me by the hair and push me down, balls deep on the cock. Vinnie kept me in place with his hand and legs, unmoving, for a few seconds, before letting our a fat load of cum. He shivered and shook for a long minute and then relaxed. His hand patted my head, I heard him say, “Good night, babe,” and then he grabbed my hair again and made sure I stayed balls deep with the cock in my throat, his legs never leaving my back.

    His thick cock still hard in me, I fell asleep (or passed out horny and high) under the comforter, choking and barely breathing.

    I woke up still in the dark from a kick to the belly and ended up in a ball in the middle of the bed, the temperature quickly dropping qs the comforter was completely removed. Before I could react I was kicked again, then two feet fell flat on my face. 

    “Fucking faggot, you couldn’t help yourself.” Vinnie’s voice was dripping with rage. “Last time you were touching me, now you waited for me to sleep to get between my fucking legs, when I trusted you enough to give you a second chance.” And his feet started pushing hard on my face, trying to bury me in the mattress. “That’s why you should never be friends with faggot betas. You can’t help trying to touch and suck me, you fag.” He removed his feet and grabbed me by the neck, up the bed towards the pillows. Holding us face to face, he started choking me. His face was a mask of disdain and anger. Once, twice and thrice he spat on me. “You’re fucking pathetic. Couldn’t stop yourself.”

    I managed to croak out a “I’m sorry, Vinnie.”

    He laughed. “Sorry? Too fucking late, faggot. I do you the favor of hanging out with you even though you’re a loser with no friends and you can’t even repay me with respect for the fact I think you’re disgusting and unfuckable. What did you think? You’re sleeping in my bed because I’m too polite to put you where you deserve, which is the fucking floor. Did you really think it was an invitation to perv on me?” When I attempted a response, he slapped me across the face. “Shut the fuck up. I woke up with your mouth on my balls, in my book that means I get to crush yours, but I’m not gonna do that here and now. No, I’m just gonna show you where you belong.” And he threw me off the bed, down on the floor. “On your back, fag.” Once I was laying at the foot of the bed, he took off his boxers snd threw them away. For the first time, even through the darknessz I saw his cock, a weapon of 8 inches and massive girth, veiny and already dripping with pre. “You like how I smell? You wanna lick me?” To both I nodded yes. He smiled at that, and turned to his dresser. “Yeah, but rewarding you seems like a bad idea, doesn’t it?” And he pulled out of one of the drawers a belt. Next, he was kneeling down over me, and looping it around my neck to make a leash. “I’m gonna be clear with you, fag, because you can’t seem to get basic shit through your empty cock obsessed head. My dick is for girls. Actual fuckable girls with tits and cunts, pretty hairless girls, not ugly ass skinny ass pieces of shit like you.” He started pulling on the best, slowly strangling me. “The fact you take liberties with me when I’m trying to be nice, well, I should beat you bloody for it, but I don’t want trouble from your dumbass parents, so I’m gonna punish you another way.” At that, he raised himself over, straddled my face facing my feet, and planted his ass on my face, hole square on the mouth, his hand still pulling on the belt. “Now eat, faggot.”

    He wasn’t dirty but he wasn’t clean. There were hours of sweat in there, hours spent sitting exactly on his ass. He was hairy and the coarse black fur was stinking of musk. Within a second i had my tongue extended as far as possible, trying to get as deep as I could into his asshole. 

    “That’s right, fag, keep fucking eating. Don’t fucking stop until I tell you to. You’re good for nothing else.”

    He gave me a few minutes of leeway just licking out his asshole while taking most of my air away, before he unleashed the last part of the punishment : as he started grinding his hole directly onto my extended tongue, and driving me wild with lust at the same time, he suddenly grabbed my cock with one hand and balls with the other, without taking them out of my boxers. Then he started crushing. From then on, I never had a single second of respite as he alternated between squeezing my genitals as hard as possible or outright slapping them, especially my hard dick.

    All I could think about was asshole and pain. His hole tightening around my tongue drove me insane, and all the slaps on my cock made me try to push even deeper into him. Then, I could only feel one of his hands on me, grabbing at my balls and pulling them away. His body was shaking, his asshole spasming on my tongue. I understood he was jacking off and soon felt warm liquid on my belly, boxers, over my hard cock and even on my thighs, and heard a long, satisfied sigh.

    Vinnie stood up, pushed his discarded boxers into my mouth, and before I could react, started kicking me in the ribs until i was on my side, at which point he started hitting in the belly and balls. He didn’t let up until he was satisfied with how hard I was crying, and smiled at me as he got back into bed, under the comforter. “Now, this is your place. Good night, faggot.”

    In the morning, I was awoken by a gentle squeeze of my hand, and fingers moving the hair from my forehead and eyes.

    “Hey, lil bro.” Vinnie was all smiles. “I think you fell off the bed last night. So, did you enjoy your first night with me as your boyfriend?”

  • Worship & Control: Muscle on Display

    This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!

    All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!


    It’s Time

    The Chapel was dimly lit, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air with a comforting ambiance. Amber light from vintage fixtures cast a warm glow across wooden tables, illuminating faces in golden hues that softened the edges of reality. It was a Thursday night—not too busy, but not dead either. The perfect environment for what was about to happen, the ideal setting for a transformation to be acknowledged.

    Max walked in exactly as instructed, his entrance creating an immediate ripple through the space. He was dressed in his night out uniform—skin-tight denim shorts that clung to his extraordinary lower body with such determination they appeared painted directly onto his skin. Each step caused the fabric to strain audibly, threatening surrender at any moment. His royal blue t-shirt stretched to its absolute limit across his monumental pecs, the fibers visibly straining to contain their impossible volume. The neckline was cut just deep enough to expose the thick striations of his colossal chest, revealing valleys of muscle that seemed carved rather than developed. His quads flexed involuntarily with every step, the separate heads of muscle visible beneath the straining denim, creating a walking display of physical perfection that commanded attention without effort. Heads turned as he made his way toward his owners, conversations pausing mid-sentence, glasses halting halfway to lips.

    Jase and Ethan sat in their usual booth, backs against the leather seating, watching him with satisfied amusement. The contrast between them was striking—Ethan’s slighter frame and Jase’s athletic build seemed almost ordinary in comparison to what approached, yet their expressions carried an authority that transcended physical development. They didn’t wave, didn’t call out—just waited with the patient confidence of men who knew their property was coming to them. Max wasn’t here as their equal, and they wanted him to understand that with every fiber of his being.

    Max reached the table, his massive frame casting shadows across its surface. He looked down at them expectantly, his posture perfect despite the extraordinary mass he carried.

    “Good evening Sirs,” he said, nodding his head as if addressing royalty, his deep voice carrying the respectful tone of someone who had accepted his place.

    “Sit,” Ethan ordered simply, the single word carrying unmistakable authority despite his smaller stature.

    Max slid into the seat between them, the booth creaking audibly in protest against his substantial weight. His thick quads barely fit beneath the table, the wood pressing against them as he tried to position himself in the limited space. He shifted, attempting to find comfort, but Jase placed a hand on his thigh, pressing down firmly—a silent reminder of who was in control, who made the decisions about Max’s comfort or discomfort.

    Max didn’t flinch. Not anymore. The rush of submission hit him like a drug, flooding his system with a warmth that radiated from the point of contact outward, settling low in his abdomen with pleasant weight.

    Ethan took a slow sip of his rosé wine, then rested his elbow on the back of the booth, his fingers drifting lazily over Max’s enormous shoulders, tracing the deep muscle grooves that defined each separate development. The casual possession in the touch conveyed volumes about their dynamic, each stroke a reminder of ownership.

    Jase, on the other side, ran a hand down Max’s arm, squeezing his unreal bicep, feeling the sheer size of it under his grip. The muscle barely yielded to the pressure, solid and warm beneath his exploring fingers.

    Max didn’t react. He didn’t need to.

    There was nothing to react to—this was who he was now. Their hands on his body, the way they possessed him in public, the way Ethan’s fingers danced over his pecs, just grazing his nipples under the fabric—it was all just normal now. A fact of his existence rather than an extraordinary circumstance.

    The only part of him that reacted was his thighs, the subtle flexing between them betraying just how much he loved being handled like this. His body responding with an honesty his composed expression tried to conceal.

    Jase finally spoke, voice calm, deliberate, commanding.

    “We need to talk about Troy.”

    Max swallowed, his throat working visibly beneath his perfect jawline.

    “That dickhead cop?” Ethan chimed in, rolling his eyes with theatrical disdain.

    Jase nodded, his expression carrying a seriousness that contrasted with their usual dynamic. “Yeah. He came into your shop, made a scene, embarrassed you.”

    Max frowned, his brow creasing with genuine confusion. He hadn’t been embarrassed—he had loved it. Being called out, put on display, humiliated for his body. The memory sent a pleasant shiver through his substantial frame, though he kept this reaction carefully contained. But he didn’t say that, didn’t contradict Jase’s interpretation.

    Jase continued, voice low, intimate despite their public setting. “Thing is, Maxy Muscle Boy… you need to make sure this never happens again. You need to come out.”

    Max’s heart skipped a beat, the rhythm faltering momentarily before racing ahead.

    He turned to Jase, confused, a flicker of fear flashing in his eyes, his composure cracking for the first time.

    “Come out? But I—I’m not gay,” he stammered, the words emerging with unexpected vulnerability from a man whose physical presence suggested nothing but strength and confidence.

    Jase and Ethan exchanged a glance—they were expecting this, had anticipated this resistance.

    Ethan smirked, swirling his drink before setting it down with deliberate care. He leaned in, his voice smooth, teasing, carrying none of Max’s uncertainty.

    “No one said you were, Maxy.”

    Max still looked rattled, his extraordinary chest rising and falling with slightly elevated breathing, the fabric of his shirt shifting with each inhale.

    Jase placed a firm hand on his thick, exposed thigh, fingers pressing into the solid muscle with reassuring pressure.

    “This isn’t about being gay, Max,” Jase said, his tone gentling slightly though the authority remained. “It’s about who you really are. It’s about what you exist for. You think we don’t know?” He squeezed, almost reassuringly. “You were made to be used. Made to be controlled. You’re a muscle toy, Maxy.”

    Max felt his stomach flip, a physical reaction to emotional truth. His skin tingled with recognition, with the relief of being seen, truly seen.

    Because they were right.

    This was what he had always been, what he had always craved beneath the carefully constructed façade of confident masculinity.

    Ethan ran his fingers down Max’s pecs, the touch deliberate and possessive, then flicked the neckline of his compression top, letting it snap back against his perfect skin.

    “You’re too beautiful to hide this,” Ethan whispered, the compliment delivered with the casualness of stating an obvious fact rather than offering praise.

    Max swallowed, staring down at his drink, the amber liquid catching light from the bar’s fixtures.

    “I—I don’t know…” His voice wavered, uncertainty bleeding through despite his attempt at composure.

    “You do,” Jase interrupted, brooking no argument. “You do know.”

    Max exhaled sharply, fingers gripping the edge of the table, knuckles whitening with pressure. He wanted this. He needed this. The acknowledgment, the freedom of living his truth openly rather than behind closed doors and drawn shutters.

    But then a name slipped from his lips, his only hesitation left in the world.

    “What about Harry?”

    Jase and Ethan stilled, the question hanging between them with sudden weight.

    Max lifted his gaze, eyes pleading, conflicted, desperate. His massive shoulders, capable of carrying extraordinary weights in the gym, seemed momentarily burdened by something heavier than physical resistance. “He’s my son. What if he… what if he stops talking to me?”

    Silence settled over them, heavy with implication.

    Then—a shift in the air, a change in energy.

    Jase leaned in, lips just beside Max’s ear, his breath warm against his skin, carrying words meant only for him.

    “Maxy…” Jase whispered, the diminutive name both affectionate and controlling. “You and Harry have more in common than you realize.”

    Max’s chest tightened, the extraordinary development beneath his shirt suddenly feeling constraining rather than powerful.

    His mouth went dry, anticipation building with physical intensity.

    Jase pressed a kiss to his cheek, slow, patronizing, owning. The gesture domestic yet dominant, intimate yet controlling.

    Max turned, searching Jase’s eyes, needing more. More answers. More certainty. More guidance through this transformation.

    But Jase just smirked and squeezed his thigh again, the pressure a promise without words.

    Ethan, watching the moment unfold with calculating eyes, finally leaned in and whispered, his usual smirk playing on his lips.

    “He’s right, Maxy Muscle Boy.” Then, he blew Max a kiss, the gesture both mocking and affectionate.

    Max’s entire body burned with undeniable truth, heat spreading through his massive frame, settling into a certainty that couldn’t be ignored.

    He reached for his beer, gulped down a mouthful, and stretched both his enormous arms around Jase and Ethan’s shoulders. The movement caused his shirt to ride up slightly, exposing a strip of perfectly defined abdomen, each muscle block clearly visible beneath golden skin.

    Without another word, he kissed them both on the cheek, then pulled back and murmured, voice steady, certain, powerful—

    “Thank you… for owning me.”

    Ethan smiled, satisfaction radiating from him.

    Jase smiled, pride evident in his expression.

    They raised their glasses, the gesture ceremonial despite its simplicity.

    “To Maxy Muscle Boy.”

    The world was about to know who Maxwell Schett truly was.

  • Tony’s punishment

    When Tony walked into the Coach’s office he sensed immediately that this was not to be the usual pep-talk that the Coach always gave the team before one of their wrestling tournaments. For starters, there was no one else in the office apart from Coach Wetherall and immediately Tony became nervous that this would be bad news. He hoped he wasn’t being thrown off the team and his mind instantly flashed back a couple of days when he’d taken the opportunity to have a wank in the locker rooms one night after everyone else had left. Did Coach know about this?

    Nick Wetherall looked up as Tony entered the room and took in the lad standing before him looking vaguely anxious. Tony was 18 years old and well-built with strong well-muscled arms and thighs from his perpetual indulgence in most of the sporting activities the college had to offer. The boy’s blonde hair was tousled from a shower no doubt and his square jaw clenched nervously as he stood in front of Coach’s desk. Tony was wearing a lycra wrestling uniform in the college colours – light blue with a white trim – and the gear moulded itself to the young man’s muscles and bulges tightly as the shiny fabric caught the light.

    Tony stood for a second and then Coach gestured to the chair in front of the desk and he sat opposite Nick. The Coach gave him a stern look and drew from his desk drawer a videotape which he popped into the VCR used for reviewing plays for the football squad. The TV monitor sprang to life and there was Tony caught in the act of jacking off in the locker room from the other day. Tony felt his face redden at the scene they were watching and started to stammer out an apology – hoping to god the Coach would turn off the dreadful images in front of both men.

    The Coach let the tape run for about a minute as the CCTV cameras caught the boy jacking himself towards a climax then turned it off abruptly and looked across the table to where Tony was sitting with his eyes lowered and a visible sheen of sweat on his forehead.

    “This school has rules son and this sort of disgusting behaviour is not acceptable – especially from one of our brightest young athletes. What if the cleaning lady had come in and caught you doing this?”

    “I’m so sorry sir – I didn’t think anyone would know”

    Tony couldn’t meet the Coach’s eyes and kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke. He knew he was in trouble and was frightened about what the Coach would do next – what if he showed his folks the tape?

    There was a knock at the door and Jay Werner walked into the office. Jay was a slim guy from the same year as Tony but the two men were worlds apart as they had totally different cliques and courses. The rumours were that Jay was queer and people tended to give him a wide berth as a result of this. He also had a penchant for practical jokes which Tony found pathetic and childish. Tony couldn’t work out why Jay might be in the gym, let alone in the Coach’s office, – Jay had no interest in sports whatsoever.

    The Coach continued talking as if Jay hadn’t entered the room and Tony blushed even further as the lecture continued in front of this other student. He wanted the ground to open up and swallow him and was trying to think of a way to stop the conversation and get out of the office when he suddenly realised that the Coach had mentioned Jay in relation to Tony.

    “Sorry sir – I missed what you said”

     “I said that you will have to be punished for this unseemly behaviour and that I’m putting Jay in charge of your punishment. You will spend the next fortnight under his supervision and he will report back to me during this period. If you do not heed his orders then I’m afraid that I will have to take this footage to the Dean and arrange a meeting for your parents to view this material. Is that clear?”

    Tony tripped over his tongue as he tried to articulate his thoughts

    “What do you mean sir? ‘Supervision’ – what is that sir?”

    Jay smiled evilly and came around and sat on the edge of Coach Wetherall’s desk in front of Tony,

    “He means that I’m in charge – of you. You have to do what I say or I report back to the Coach that you haven’t and he spills the beans about your tacky JO session in the locker rooms. Do you want him to do that Jock-boy?”

    “No I don’t but I don’t see what this has to do with you Jay?”

    “I’m your ‘mentor’ for a fortnight and you are my toy – I’m sure we’ll get along just fine. If we don’t then your future here is over. S’your call stud.” Jay turned to the Coach – “When do we start sir?”

    “No time like the present eh? – he’s all yours son”

    “Right then – lets test this out” Jay opened his backpack and pulled out a leather collar that was about two inches wide and studded with wicked-looking chrome studs. He moved round behind Tony and started to put the collar around the lad’s muscular neck. Tony freaked and jumped up out of the chair – he grabbed the front of Jay’s shirt and shoved him up against the wall.

    “Get your filthy pervert hands off me you queer!” flecks of spit showered Jay’s face, which was an inch from Tony’s enraged countenance. Jay however seemed not in the slightest bit perturbed by this violence and, in a bored tone of voice said,

    “I guess it’s not going to work sir. You’d better make those appointments.” Jay watched as Tony took in the implications of this and Tony released Jay’s clothing and backed away from him. Tony looked utterly dejected and turned and implored the Coach not to do this.

    “You must be punished Tony. This will teach you a valuable lesson about the importance of ensuring you behave with dignity at all times. Now what’s it to be, Jay and his regime or a facilitated meeting with your parents and the Dean?”

    Tony hung his head in shame and anger. To let this freak touch him was bad enough but to let Jay have control over him for two weeks was intolerable. Yet he had no choice. His parents would go ape if they knew about his actions in the locker room and he couldn’t bring shame on his family in that way. He also couldn’t risk being thrown out of college – not when he was so close to graduation. As much as it revolted him he would have to go along with this punishment and hope that two weeks passed quickly. From his experience thus far with the collar it was clear that Jay was going to make the most of this situation but he could see no way of getting out of it.

    “Ok sir I’ll do this” he muttered.

    “Very well Tony – for the next two weeks whatever Jay wants you to do you will do. If he says jump you will ask how high. If I hear that you’ve refused to follow the line he sets then it’s all over for you in this school – is that clear?”

    “Yes sir”

    “Right then – I’ll hand you over to Jay. I understand he’s drawn up an itinerary for the fortnight and I’ll be keeping in touch with him to ensure all is going well. At the end of the fortnight you’ll get your tape back to do with as you wish. Now get out of my office – both of you”

    Both boys left the Coach’s office and walked into the deserted locker room. Tony sank down onto one of the benches and Jay came and stood in front of him.

    “We should start as we mean to go on don’t you think?” he said with a grim smile. Then he proceeded to secure the studded collar round Tony’s neck and fasten it tight.

    “You will wear this all the time and you will address me as ‘Master’ for the period of the two weeks. You will tell your folks you are staying over at my place for a fortnight as part of the school’s foreign induction programme and that you will receive extra credit for doing so.

    You will seek my permission before engaging on any course of action. This includes talking to other people, using the bathroom, sitting down, eating, and taking part in your school activities. Are we clear Jock-boy?”

    “Why are you doing this to me? Are you gonna get some sort of sick thrill out of this?”

    “Honestly? Yes, I am. Now then – first things first, what are you wearing under that outfit?”

    “Wouldn’t you like to know” sneered Tony. But his voice betrayed his lack of confidence and he looked downward and added “Just a jockstrap”

    “Take it off – then you can put your gear back on”

    “I can’t do that! This outfit’s skin tight – everyone’ll see my dick!”

    “Do it.”

    “Ok but turn around. I don’t want you drooling over my arse you cocksucker”

    “Fine – the deal’s off. If you can’t obey the rules there’s no point continuing. Hope you enjoy whatever low-rent college you end up in” Jay turned and started towards the Coach’s office.

    Tony panicked. “Wait! I’ll do it! I’m sorry.” He started to pull down the shoulder straps on his uniform.

    “What do you say? ‘I’ll do it’ followed by what?”

    Hating himself for his predicament Tony knew he had no choice so he looked Jay in the eyes and said strongly,

    “I’ll do it Master”

    “That’s better. Now get on with it.”

    Tony pulled his uniform down to his ankles and stepped out of it. He stood in front of Jay now only dressed in his jockstrap, socks and trainers. He took the jock off quickly and pulled his wrestling gear back up as quickly as he could. All the while Jay watched with a smile as the boy disrobed and his sizeable dick presented itself to his view. When Tony pulled the uniform back up and put his arms back through the shoulder straps he looked up and was blushing furiously. Jay looked down and could see the outline of Tony’s cock as the shiny light blue lycra hugged it totally.

    “Good. For the next two days this is all you’re allowed to wear.” Tony groaned at the thought of having to walk to school in this get-up – he moved his hands self-consciously in front of his groin, painfully aware of how visible his manhood was to the eyes of all and sundry.

    Jay walked over to him and took off his backpack. He put in on the bench next to Tony and started rummaging through it. Tony watched his captor helplessly – wanting to smack him and run, or to burst into tears of frustration.

    “We just need to tweak your outfit before we go for our walk I feel” said Jay pulling some items out of the bag.

    Tony watched horrified as Jay turned to him and grabbed his arm. Jay put some sort of pink shiny plastic glove on Tony’s hand and secured it at the wrist. It wasn’t a glove as such however as it had no fingers and, once it was on him Tony couldn’t move his fingers at all as the glove was stiffened inside so that he couldn’t un-straighten his hand. He started to voice his dismay but a look from Jay silenced him and he knew he would have to submit to this further indignity. Jay performed the same manoeuvre with Tony’s other hand and Tony became painfully aware that he now could not grip or grasp anything with his hands and would have to rely on Jay to open doors or even – he shuddered – feed him.

    Jay then produced a length of chain with handcuffs on it from his backpack and secured Tony’s wrists with it. A second set of similar chains appeared and Tony’s ankles were similarly shackled so he could only move with difficulty. Then Jay produced a bottle of water and a blue pill from the recesses of his bag.

    “You will take this for me now.” He instructed the hapless Tony.

    “What is it? Master?” Tony asked trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

    “Never mind my little Jock-boy – Now swallow this so we can get on with things”

    Tony had no choice but to swallow the pill. If he had resisted his shackles would have meant that Jay could have gotten the better of him and forced him to swallow the pill anyway. He realised that he was helpless and that he’d let himself be put in this position by a boy who he would have had no problem beating up ordinarily.

    Jay then got a gag out of his bag and strapped it in place around Tony’s head so he could no longer talk but could only make muffled grunts and groans. Tony’s eyes were wide with trepidation by now and Jay grinned malevolently as he brought out the final item for his preparations – a balloon.

    Jay stepped away briefly to the sink and filled the balloon half-full of water. He then returned to his wretched captive and pulled down the back of Tony’s wrestling garb and put his hand down the back placing the water balloon in such a way that it created an unfortunately suggestive bulge in the rear of Tony’s butt like he’d messed himself.

    Tony tried to pull away from Jay’s ministrations and groaned in shock as the cold balloon hit his butt but he couldn’t get away from Jay and soon he stood helplessly in front of his tormentor – gagged, chained and hobbled wearing his clingy outfit that now emphasised his genitals and – from the rear – looked like he had soiled himself heavily.

    Tony felt ill with fear about what Jay might try and do next and started trying to get away – surely the Coach couldn’t think that this torment was appropriate punishment he thought as he hobbled pitifully towards the Coach’s office. Jay stepped up behind Tony and grabbed his cock through the shiny material, causing Tony to cry out against his gag. Jay spun the poor man round so he was facing him and, grabbing the chain connecting Tony’s wrists, started pulling him across the locker room towards the gymnasium. Tony tried to resist but he couldn’t exert his strength and he was pulled relentlessly into the big room where Jay took one of the climbing ropes in the centre of the gym and tied Tony’s wrist chains to it – effectively stranding the powerless boy in the centre of the room and bringing his hands up to head height so he couldn’t cover his embarrassment elsewhere.

    Finally, Jay took a placard out of his bag which read as follows,

    “FRAT PUNISHMENT 101 – DO NOT FEED THE ANIMAL”

    Jay placed this in front of Tony’s trembling form and faced his captive.

    “Right then, I’m off for lunch. I’ll check back on you in a bit. If anyone frees you then the whole thing is over and you’ll be expelled so it’s up to you to ensure they don’t. See you later ‘dude’” With a giggle Jay walked calmly out of the gym.

  • Slavery in Albion

    Ever since Albion closed its borders almost fifty years ago  rumours have swirled around about what life is like on the island. For ten years no-one has entered or left apart from the few diplomats to and from the countries with which Albion has retained diplomatic connections and they are, to state the obvious, diplomatic! Very little filters out about what it’s like to live there anymore. Despite having around 50 million citizens, what the rest of the world knows about it is minimal. The island still carries on trade, but exports and imports are all dealt with at official ports where non-residents can go no further than the security centre. Oddly, for what the world sees as a repressive regime, there are almost no reported instances of refugees fleeing the island.

    So, I was very surprised when my editor told me that he was appointing me the paper’s first Albion correspondent. Not only that, but that the Albion government had decided to allow a small number of press representatives onto the island. Albion, like Japan in the 19th Century, was opening itself back up a bit, and was going to start by letting a handful of journalists in. Even North Korea only allowed journalists in on very controlled tours and visits. Apparently, we were to have more or less free access to the island, and there would be no restrictions on what we could report. Well, no restrictions except no photography would be allowed except that provided by the Albion government. 

    My first concern was whether I would be safe. I’m an out and proud gay man, and there are definitely countries in the world where I would feel less than safe being an embedded reporter. But my editor assured me that Albion’s inclusive laws, passed before the closure of the borders, were still very much in force. In fact, he reckoned that it would be far safer for me there than at home.

    But there was one thing which shocked me. It was the confirmation of one of the most persistent rumours about the island. Weeks after the closure of the borders, Albion had legalised slavery. Not only that, but most prison sentences had also been changed to terms of slavery. Only for men, though. Women could not be slaves, unlike in Ancient Rome or the pre-war South. My editor knew very little more than that.

    Before telling me that I would be flying into Albion in one week’s time, he handed me a slim, glossy brochure. The official Albion briefing from the government. Not sure it would be much use, probably just promo fluff, but read it before heading off, he had said.

    He was right, I thought. The brochure was very like reading the fictions which come out of North Korea or some of those African states which are really dictatorships yet pronounce democracy. Albion has open, free and fair elections every four years. The people are wealthy, happy and fulfilled. I couldn’t argue with some of the stuff about the excellent goods which Albion exports – Albion meat, beer and textiles are some of the most highly prized and highest priced you can find, among other things that Albion ships out. Apparently, Albion also has one of the lowest carbon footprints of any country in the world, in fact it is more or less completely carbon neutral and has been for years – way ahead of anywhere else in the world.

    There was a page about the slavery laws. Although the brochure didn’t call it slavery. Apparently, there are two forms. What they call ‘community restoration’, which is what has replaced prison for the vast majority of crimes. And ‘voluntary indenture’, about which I knew nothing hitherto. If you are in debt, or your family is in dire straits, or you need money for something specific, you can enter slavery voluntarily. You get the same treatment and status as former prisoners would, but the money goes to your family or to pay off your debts. You have to be at least 21 years old, male, obviously, and get to choose the terms of your indenture – whatever that means. I guessed one of my jobs when I got to Albion would be to find out! The only other information was that only four ‘terms’ of slavery were possible: one year, five years, ten years or twenty-five years.

    A week later, I was on a luxurious, small private jet with four other journalists:Jenny, a young woman of around twenty-five; Margaret, a severe looking older woman who was probably in her sixties; Clayton, a handsome man of about my age (mid-thirties); and Leslie, an older man whom I knew slightly and who was in his fifties. With no scheduled or charter flights in or out of Albion, this was the only way to travel, not that I was complaining. We were waited on by three handsome male cabin attendants, who looked after everything we might possibly have needed. A very well turned out and professional woman called Anna had been allocated as our liaison officer. Before we landed, she gave us a briefing. After reiterating quite a lot that had been in the brochure, she did give us a few pieces of information which were not in the brochure: that almost no power was provided using fossil fuels or nuclear energy, 95% of the country’s needs were provided by renewable and sustainable energy sources; that no private motorised traffic was allowed in town or city centres during daylight hours and that all motor vehicles were fully electric; that all large cities and most larger towns had either trams or light railway services instead of buses or taxis; that high speed rail ran between major cities, with regular branch services to most smaller towns; that we should reserve judgement about the presence of very visible slaves; that we should not talk to them without checking with either their overseer or owner but that we were free to talk to anyone else we met.

    The plane landed at what had clearly once been a small private airport just outside Ludenwic, the re-named capital of Albion. Anna told us that no internal flights were permitted in Albion and that we had had to get special permission to fly into the country – imports and exports were all handled by sea and any diplomatic travel also used ships. This was obviously one reason why the carbon footprint of the country was so low. The only flights allowed were occasional use of helicopters for emergencies and crime solving purposes. As we were preparing to leave, Anna reminded us that we were not permitted to take photographs anywhere in Albion. We’d all been issued with phones with the cameras disabled. We would be able to make videocalls to work and to our friends, but only on approved devices provided for that purpose in our hotel rooms.

    We walked down the steps of the jet and the first thing I noticed was just how quiet it was. There was no traffic noise that I could hear and there were no planes lined up on the tarmac waiting to take off as there would have been in any other airport I had ever used. The place was deserted. There wasn’t even a baggage truck waiting to take our larger bags to the terminal. Anna told us that they would be waiting for us once we had gone through security. They had already been thoroughly searched by a member of the Albion Security Force before being allowed on the plane, to ensure that we were bringing nothing into the country that was banned. After walking about 100 yards, we entered a small building that had probably been a set of offices originally, but which had obviously been converted to serve as a security checkpoint for our arrival. Anna told us that so few planes landed in Albion (we were only the third that year and it was July!), they had nothing set up to manage them on a permanent basis.

    Security took ages. We knew it would. Our hand luggage was thoroughly searched again, as I assumed our hold luggage would also be. We had all been given visas which allowed us to remain in Albion for six months, with extension possible. Our photos, fingerprints and other biometric markers were all taken. Despite being journalists, we had all been given diplomatic status. We were free to travel around the country as we saw fit. Anna would continue to act as a concierge for us while we were staying and would arrange travel and accommodation as and when we needed it. We were all initially staying in one of Ludenwic’s ‘top’ hotels – I was interested to see what that meant in this very unfamiliar place. It was getting to be late afternoon by the time we were all finally processed and everything had been checked and cleared. Despite having slept and eaten well on the plane, I was getting tired and hungry.

    We were finally ready to see Albion properly. Anna herded us together and said that we would be leaving international space and entering Albion itself. She said that there would likely be quite a significant culture shock and that the difference between Albion and everywhere else on the planet would become obvious as soon as we left the building. She again entreated us not to make any snap judgements about them and their country. 

    Wondering what she could mean, and exchanging puzzled looks, we all followed her out of the door at the other end of the building. As we came out into the bright sunshine, there was what looked like a large golf buggy drawn up by the doors. We could see the rear of it, where our cases were piled up. Anna led us to our seats, and that’s when we got our first culture shock, and our first experience of slavery.

    The buggy didn’t have an engine. Instead, six men were reined and tethered in pairs like horses to the front of the vehicle. The men were also all stark naked, except for sturdy boots. They were all much the same height and build and were well muscled, with especially well-developed legs. Seeing us all stopped in our tracks, Anna explained that most vehicles in towns were now pulled by slave muscle. It was how the carbon footprint was so low. We’d see rickshaws in the centre of Ludenwic being pulled by slaves, as well as carts delivering goods. This was a more unusual situation, because of the weight of us and our luggage. Doing my best not to be completely phased by what I was seeing, I took my seat in the buggy. Once we were all seated, Anna finally told us that slaves were, by and large, kept naked and we would soon become as accustomed to seeing them as the citizens of Albion were.

    Once we were all seated, the ‘driver’ of the buggy gave the reins attached to the slaves a sharp jolt, and the team began to move. Slowly at first, as if gauging the weight they were pulling, the slaves moved in step. The driver used the reins to gradually speed up the team, until we were moving at quite a clip. We left the airfield and pulled out onto what had been a road. As we moved, Anna told us that because there was little motorised traffic, most of the tarmac in Albion had been removed and roads replaced with gravelled and grassed paths. Better for the ponies than tarmac. Once we got into the city centre we would see roads more like we would be used to at home, she said. The ponies (as she had called them) kept up a steady pace, pulling us much more slowly than we would have gone in a motor vehicle, but I was realising that the pace of life in Albion was much slower than I was used to at home.

    After about half an hour, we got to the outskirts of Ludenwic itself. Whilst it largely looked like what I was used to at home, albeit with generally two-storey terraced houses rather than blocks of flats, what was different was that every roof had solar panels and every garden had a small wind turbine. The other obvious difference was the presence of the slaves. Anna began explaining slavery to us.

    Basically, all menial and boring duties are done by slaves in Albion. Taxes are very low, because the government is not paying staff to work. Only slave rations and their ‘upkeep’, which is far less costly. Most transport is slave-driven. But it’s not just manual or menial work which is done by slaves. The government uses the slavery system to upskill men who otherwise might struggle. Young men from poorer backgrounds, especially, might not be able to stay in education so might decide to put themselves forward for a five-year term of slavery and hope that, instead of a manual job, they get put into a government office and learn a trade. They’ll still be worked hard and treated like any other slave, but they will learn and when their term ends can move into a supervisory or managerial role. Some young men may also be offered a direct opportunity for training which will also mean voluntarily entering a five year term of slavery.

    That’s not available to slaves who are there because of criminal activities, however. Anna said that the crime rate had fallen significantly, but that there were still men that either thought they could get away with it, or were too drunk or drug-addled to realise what they had done. And there were still men who thought they could get away with fraud, or theft. And, since slavery was now the only option for the courts for men between 21 and 50, even minor lapses would lead to enslavement. The more privileged or well-off a man was who was sentenced to slavery, the more likely he would get a longer sentence and serve it in a less pleasant manner. One of the reasons that Albion’s exports were so competitive was because they used legal slave labour to produce them. And anything which could be done by manpower instead of electricity was. Why run machines when these were plenty of slaves who could do the work?

    By now, the buggy had reached the centre of Ludenwic. It looked very little different to most large cities except for the absence of the skyscrapers and glass fronted buildings. I guess it looked like a capital city would have looked in the 1950s. Well, apart from the naked slaves, of course. We passed a refuse truck, pulled like out buggy by a team of slaves, four in this case. These were bulkier and less toned than those pulling the buggy. Two other slaves, one a very young looking skinny lad and the other much older were collecting the bins and emptying them into the larger vessels on the truck. Anna told us that citizens didn’t have to sort their rubbish – slaves at the depot would go through the bins and sort everything manually. We saw rickshaws which replaced what would have been private vehicles or taxis – most seated two people comfortably and they were all pulled by a naked slave. We passed a rank where an overseer was hiring out rickshaws to people just like a cab rank back home.

    Anna pointed out the difference between the rickshaws for hire and those which were private transport. The rickshaws for hire were all dark blue in colour and the same design, and the naked slaves pulling them all had the same shaved heads and bodies and wore identical dark blue boots which reached almost to their knees. The private rickshaws, however, were all different colours and designs. Some of the slaves pulling them were shaved like the slaves for hire, but others were hairy, or had been allowed to retain just their pubes. Some had shaved heads, but there was also a wide variety of hairstyles, from long flowing locks to mohicans. Some of the private slaves were adorned too – we saw several whose nipples had been pierced and some of these had bells jingling from them. Similarly, some had pierced genitals, again some with bells attached. A few had tails protruding from their rears like animals – clearly some kind of plug had been inserted into their anus with the tail attached. One thing which I noticed as well was how many of the slaves we saw had bright red buttocks – clearly corporal punishment of a slave was fine too.

    I thought I was open-minded and pretty unshockable, but I was somewhat taken aback by just how many naked slaves I was seeing and how brazen it was.

    Another colleague clearly felt the same, because he asked Anna in quite a shocked tone just how many slaves there were. She said that there were about 100,000 men performing ‘community restoration’ and almost a half of a million in ‘voluntary indenture’! I have to say that the second figure really did shock me, but Anna explained that indenture was a choice quite a few men made at one point or another in their life to tide them over a difficult period or to get a new skill. Indenture never lasted more than a maximum of five years, whereas almost all those sentenced to ‘community restoration’ were sentenced to a minimum of five years, and generally began at the ten year sentence. Anna did say, though, that there were slaves who had started off with a five year term of indenture and then opted to remain as slaves. At the end of the five year term, it was possible to sign on for a second term and if the slave didn’t want to go free thereafter, he would be transferred to a lifetime contract.

    Finally, we arrived at our hotel. It wasn’t at all what I had expected. Instead of a modern, luxury hotel, it had clearly been the house of someone well-to-do over a hundred years ago. A large, elegant, detached house at the end of one of Ludenwic’s historic squares. The ponies stopped in front, panting and sweaty, and a traditionally dressed commissionaire of the type one sees in books about Albion before it closed its borders came forward and greeted Anna. He was clearly expecting us and greeted us all politely as we disembarked from the buggy.

    We were led into a plush foyer where four slaves knelt against the wall beside a reception desk. The commissionaire told the slaves to go and fetch our luggage while we were handed keys by a pretty young woman at the desk.

    Margaret asked the young woman what she felt about having all these naked slaves around. She said that she had been born after the law changed and had known nothing else, that Albion benefited from the work that the slaves did and that if men didn’t want to be enslaved involuntarily, they shouldn’t break the law.

    Once we all had our keys, Anna led us to a room off the foyer which was furnished like the library of an old-fashioned gentleman’s club. After waving us to the various chairs around the room, she pressed a bell button and a slave came in carrying a tray with glasses of sparkling wine and two others  followed with trays of canapes. They circulated while Anna began to brief us on the plans that the government of Albion had drawn up for us.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, let me welcome you properly to Albion. I very much hope that you enjoy your time with us and can help us reassure your readers and viewers that we are a peaceful and happy country despite anything you may have read or heard to the contrary.

    “You’ll find everything I talk about in the briefing packs which are in your suites upstairs, but I want to start off with a few ground rules.

    “As you know, you have free rein to travel around Albion after our initial guided tour. Please liaise with me as to travel and accommodation.

    “A couple of things about the slaves. As we’ve already discussed, please don’t engage with a slave that is working without the permission of his owner or overseer.

    “I realise that you are still getting acclimatised to the presence of slaves in Albion, but please do try to understand and not judge. If you are invited to engage with a slave, please talk to him in a way that ensures he knows you are superior to him.

    “If a slave displeases you in anyway when serving you in any capacity, please let his overseer or owner know immediately or as soon as possible. You will see signs in some places which will say ‘feel free to chastise the slaves’. This means that if a slave displeases you then you can punish it immediately. In your suites you will each find a small leather paddle and a penis whip.”

    Here Anna pickled up examples of both implements from the table beside her.

    “All free citizens over the age of sixteen carry these and you will see them in use. You may also, if you wish, use the flat of your hand to spank the buttocks of a slave. Only owners or overseers may use other forms of discipline on slaves unless they delegate it to someone else.

    “Slaves have no privacy and limited personal rights. You may touch a slave in any way you wish except that you must not penetrate a slave anally in a public setting. Slaves cannot refuse sexual service – you have all been tested for venereal diseases and will be expected to be tested monthly whilst here. Miss Saunders,” here she addressed the young woman, “I understand you are using birth control, but please do consider protected intercourse if you plan on using slaves sexually.

    “Slaves may not ejaculate in public. Please do not embarrass yourselves by knowingly causing a slave to do so. If it should happen inadvertently, how owner or overseer should be summoned at once.

    I was reeling slightly with the matter of factness with which Anna outlined these rules. As I’ve said, I’m broad minded and frequent nude beaches on holidays, but the open sexual and personal nature of slavery still shocked me somewhat.

    “Whilst slaves can be used sexually with the consent of their owner or overseer, we do not allow this publicly except in specific contexts.

    “You will see slaves being punished publicly. Please do not try to be kind to these slaves and only engage with them if it is clear that this is permitted.

    Anna moved onto more banal issues – we were having dinner together that evening in the hotel restaurant and then tomorrow would be taken to meet the Albion Foreign Minister for a lunch and reception, then to the theatre in the evening. Anna said that there was a guided itinerary for the first two weeks that we were here and that after that we would have a week in Ludenwic before we could then travel wherever we wished.

    “In the hotel,” she said, “there are service slaves available twenty-four hours a day. Do not hesitate to call for one to do anything that you require. I can highly recommend a slave to give you a foot massage and tongue clean – especially after we’ve been walking a lot during the day.

    “The hotel only employs the best slaves and they are highly trained. In your suites you will find a tablet which controls the atmosphere of the room and enables you to order room service and slave service. You will see a list of the available slaves on the tablet, so that you can select your preference if you wish. If you do not care which slave serves you, simply choose the service you require and a slave will present itself within ten minutes. You can also prebook services such as foot service or a massage.

    “So, you have a few hours to rest, please do get settled into your suites and either take a nap or feel free to explore around the hotel. We will meet here for a pre-dinner drink at 7.”

    With that, a member of staff came into the room, followed by five slaves which were assigned to each of us to lead us to our rooms. My slave was probably 10 years older than me, in very good physical shape, about 175cm tall and with neatly trimmed body hair. Like all the slaves we’d seen at the hotel, he wore a stainless steel cockring and ball stretcher. Having invited me to follow him, we walked to the lifts and two of my fellows and their assigned slaves joined us. Jenny was accompanied by a tall young slave with a shaved body and shoulder-length blond hair. Leslie’s slave looked to be of Indian heritage, very slim and quite short and hairless except for his eyebrows.

    The lift reached the third floor and we all exited the lift. My suite was 301, Jenny’s was 303 and Leslie’s 306. We said our goodbyes and ‘see you in a bit’s at our doors and then the slave let me into the suite.

  • The Rainbow’s Edge

    The evening felt like a twisted dream, maybe even a full-blown nightmare. I pushed the door closed behind me as I entered my musty room, still on the phone with Amy. I had called her midway between Tony’s room and my own, desperate to reach her before she went to bed and avoid any unwanted suspicion. Guilt washed over me as I turned my attention to the TV, which was still on, showing the start of the third quarter, my futile attempt to inject some semblance of masculinity back into my life. Coping with the reality that my entire sense of self had been shattered in the past forty-five minutes was excruciating. I had gone from a man confident in his identity to an ass-eating bisexual, manipulated by a 110-pound, flamboyant twink with a man bun. The worst part was that the one thing I had come for, the gigantic prize I so desperately sought, had been withheld from me, leaving me feeling used, discarded, and utterly defeated.

    It was heartbreaking as Amy recounted her OBGYN appointment from that day, completely unaware of what her husband of a decade had just done. I struggled to get through the call with her, my mind prioritizing thoughts of Tony over my own wife and soon-to-be mother entirely against my control. Her voice blurred into the background, overshadowed by the lingering taste of Tony in my mouth that no hotel towel could erase. Each word intensified my guilt, amplifying the flashbacks I knew I would never escape. Yet, even amidst this guilt, the image of the man who had discarded me like a piece of trash loomed large in my mind. The weight of the evening bore down on me, wrapping me in a suffocating blanket of shame as I grappled with the reality of having crossed over the rainbow’s edge.

    The remainder of the evening was a mix of emotions, marked by insecurity and fear. I fought off the desire to jerk off with all my being, trying to stave off the deep regret that I knew would inevitably engulf me once the guilt-laden release in my shorts became unavoidable. I struggled to focus on the presentation that awaited my attention. I was more obsessed with refreshing the chat with Tony, praying for a message that would summon me back to his room to finish the job I so desperately wanted, a chance to purge all my wrongdoing in a single evening. I’d become a broken man, suddenly gripped by the fear that I might have seen the last of Tony. What if I had failed his test, leaving me unworthy of a second encounter? I became unrecognizable to myself, caught in a dizzying mix of desire and self-doubt.

    The morning arrived quickly after a restless night, and a shower did little to wash away the shame of the previous evening. Even after brushing my teeth multiple times, Tony’s phantom taste still lingered. When my alarm went off, he consumed my thoughts, leaving no room for anything else. I refreshed the chat even before responding to Amy’s “good morning” text, gripped by anxiety over whether he had replied. While I had managed to resist the urge to relieve myself, I knew that the guilt I had artificially suppressed from the night before would eventually surface, forcing me to confront the monster I had become.

    I quickly dressed and rushed down the elevator and through the drab, deserted lobby, passing Amy’s younger doppelgänger still at the front desk. Her curious eyes seemed to pierce through me as if she had been in the room watching my every move. What would typically be a flirtatious vibe with someone like her was instead replaced with a look of judgment, as if the events of last evening were somehow plastered all over my face. Overwhelmed with shame, I quickly looked away, unable to meet her gaze. By the time I reached my rental car, the weight of last night bore down even heavier, and Tony’s hold on me felt completely inescapable, leaving me trapped under his spell.

    It felt like the longest day of my life, dragging on more painfully than any agonizing waits in hostile territory during my deployments. With each passing hour, my fear intensified that I would return home to my pregnant wife, burdened not only by the guilt of cheating on her with another man but also by how it happened. I struggled to focus on client work; every minute felt like an eternity. My phone was locked away on the military base and accessible only during brief breaks and lunch. Each time I checked it, it felt like waiting for a job callback, my desperation fueled by blue balls I refused to address until Tony was finished with me. Each anxious refresh of the chat was met with silence, amplifying my dread that I might never hear from him again.

    Meetings blurred together, overtaken by a relentless stream of images my mind replayed like a photo album from the night before. I felt desperate, consumed by the detailed acts I envisioned performing on him if given the chance. Just after 4 PM, the long-awaited message finally arrived, igniting the same nervous anticipation as his text from the day before. “6 PM, my room,” it read, more a command than a question. Tony had dismantled me so thoroughly that I felt like someone who had just hit the lottery, exhilarated yet terrified of what was to come.

    “Sounds good,” I replied, attempting to restrict my nervous exuberance from coming through the phone.

    During the last hour of the day, anticipation nearly incapacitated me as I fixated on the thought of worshipping at the feet of the very man who had discarded me less than eighteen hours earlier. Time raced forward, and before I knew it, I was slamming the door of my rental car and stepping through the sliding glass doors of my shabby hotel at 5:20 PM. I passed the front desk, again unattended, and took the elevator. Upon exiting, I paused briefly to glance down the hallway I would soon traverse before heading toward my room.

    The next half hour was a blur as I tried to settle my nerves. I quickly switched out of my business casual attire and into my usual athletic wear, replicating my choice from the night before. Though I wanted to avoid wearing another Marine Corps T-shirt out of respect for what was to come, it was my only option since I hadn’t packed anything else. A mix of nervousness and excitement enveloped me, intensifying my anticipation to see Tony. The unresolved tension in my shorts was fueled by desperation, knowing I wouldn’t find relief until long after I left his room that evening. I did my best to brace myself for the guilt and shame that would eventually come pouring out of me into the hotel shower drain when I returned to my room later that evening.

    As I stepped into the corridor and pulled the door closed behind me, the reality of my situation hit me hard. I quickly texted Amy, letting her know I was about to grab dinner and would call her later, ensuring no notifications would pull me back to reality while Tony violated me. The hallway seemed to close around me as I swiftly covered the 500-foot distance to his door, which was slightly ajar from not being pushed closed. I hesitated, feeling my life flash before my eyes again as I contemplated the stark contrast between the man who had checked into this hotel just a day ago and the one standing before Tony’s door now.

    My arm lifted, and for a moment, I hesitated, reflecting on how yesterday had offered the chance to walk away unscathed and return to my wife as a straight man. That option was now irrevocably lost. Just before I knocked, my phone vibrated in my hand, a timely acknowledgment from Amy, accompanied by a selfie of her smiling as she held up paint swatches in Home Depot for the room that needed to be ready in a month. It felt like the latest visual reminder of my betrayal, almost as if it had been planned. But the hormone-driven desire coursing through me quickly washed away any guilt, nearly forcing a knock on the door.

    “Coming,” the distant, familiar feminine voice replied, barely penetrating the heavy door. My heart suddenly pounded in my chest.

    As the heavy door creaked open, my gaze immediately fell on Tony, who stood almost entirely nude, a grin still plastered across his face, save for the rainbow-striped tank top he had worn the night before. Unlike yesterday, when he had stuffed his bike shorts to their breaking point with his nearly footlong kielbasa, he now appeared completely relaxed; his flaccid cock, still an impressive seven inches and draped over his gigantic testicles, dwarfing me even in my most-excited state. My firsthand knowledge of how imposing it would become only heightened my sense of intimidation.

    “Hey, Steve, come on in,” he said, holding the door open and stepping aside, allowing me to enter after a brief moment of hesitation.

    Though barely twenty hours had passed, stepping into the dingy Alabama hotel room felt like entering a sexual crime scene. My life had been upended, and this place wasn’t done with me yet. The memory of last night lingered, an inescapable part of my reality. Aside from the absence of a football game on the TV, the room looked exactly as I had left it. The duffle bag lay on the bed, while the white towel I had used to clean myself off remained crumpled at the foot. The loud hum of the air conditioning filled the heavy silence, amplifying my discomfort.

    “Hope you didn’t get in trouble with the wife,” Tony sneered, shutting the door behind me with a grunting push. His words were soaked with mocking amusement, fully aware of my ignored notifications. His grin grew more expansive, the taunt hitting hard as he played on the anxiety he knew it triggered. My gaze drifted to the shredded bike shorts hanging over the trash can, serving as some fucked up monument to my transformation and only amplifying my shame.

    I laughed nervously, unsure how to react to his remark. Tony hadn’t mentioned Amy once the night before, but now he taunted me, asking if she knew about this. His sudden curiosity made my stomach tighten. It was clear he was savoring the control he held over me, and with every word, he intensified the humiliation. Knowing I had a wife waiting at home seemed to fuel his cruelty, making the degrading acts he’d coerced me into the night before even more unbearable.

    As Tony moved further into the room and approached the bed, my eyes locked onto his bare ass, the same one my face had been buried in the night before, now freed from its spandex prison. He climbed onto the bed, sliding into the familiar doggy-style position, his head turning just enough to glance back at me through his glasses. My heart sank. The anticipation and dread of repeating the act surged within me, the moment’s weight pressing down as I braced for what was to come.

    “Just kidding!” he exclaimed, abruptly pulling out of the doggy-style position and standing at the foot of the bed before I could fully process what was happening. His grin widened, a clear indication of his delight in taunting me, a constant reminder that he could put me through it all over again and make me beg for it if he chose to. With his hands on his hips and that playful smirk plastered across his face, I found myself staring at his flaccid cock, still impressive in size, putting most men to shame even in its relaxed state. Despite everything that had just transpired, I felt ashamed to meet his gaze.

    Before I could react, Tony grabbed the crumpled towel from the foot of the bed and let it fall back into place, just as he had the night before. “Lay down with your head here,” he instructed, his tone more serious this time as he pointed to the edge of the bed. I obeyed without a word. I still hadn’t adjusted to my new reality, reduced to nothing more than a tool for his satisfaction. There was no small talk, no interest in who I was or what I did; my identity had been stripped away, leaving me with no significance beyond what I could provide in this encounter. Yet, I complied, trapped in this unsettling new normal. I settled onto the bed; head tilted slightly off the edge, the Marine Corps logo on my T-shirt almost mocking the dignity I had given up.

    From my upside-down vantage point, I could see Tony standing behind me, his rainbow-striped tank top and crooked grin in view. He gazed down, his wry smile unwavering as he let me fully absorb the vulnerability of my position. “Are you ready?” he asked, stepping over my head before I could respond to his rhetorical question. In an instant, my view of the ceiling was replaced by his flaccid cock brushing against my lips as it passed by. His massive balls settled heavily on my nose and mouth, their weight almost suffocating. The height of the bed, combined with his shorter stature, made the contact inevitable, forcing me to look up into the ass crack I had begged to service the night before.

    Tony lingered for about fifteen seconds as if he were giving me a moment to process my reality. With cruel precision, he reasserted his dominance, his massive sack enveloping my face and suffocating my every breath, leaving me feeling utterly humiliated. The weight of his balls constricted my airflow, while his occasional lifts onto his toes provided fleeting moments of relief, allowing me just enough time to gasp for air before he settled back down. The sheer degradation of having another man’s balls pressed against my face was overwhelming. Unlike the night before, Tony began to taunt me, amplifying my humiliation with every mocking remark he made.

    “How do you like my big balls?” he shouted, his lisp lending a mocking tone to his words. Though I couldn’t see his grin, the delight in his voice was unmistakable as he reveled in my humiliation. As his sack descended again, my attempt to respond became a muffled sound, lost beneath its weight. “Which one do you want first?” he teased, swaying his hips from side to side. Each of his massive testicles brushed against my lips, which instinctively remained sealed shut, deepening my sense of degradation and muffling my uncertain mumblings even further.

    “Open up, Steve,” he commanded, pressing forward and shifting his asshole so it rested on my nose, nearly pinching it shut as it became a human butt plug. My view was now framed directly through his ass crack, guiding my gaze up his pale back to the greasy man-bun blocking the ceiling. The weight of his massive left testicle pressed against my closed lips, causing them to part against my will. Tony gently nudged it into my waiting mouth with his fingers, stretching it beyond its normal capacity.

    At that moment, I felt utterly emasculated, consumed by the reality of another man’s testicle stuffed in my mouth and the sheer size of Tony. This was a stark contrast to the fantasy I had imagined while pursuing my desire to give oral sex. I wasn’t meant to be in this position, enduring such intense humiliation while gasping for breath. It seemed he was determined to make me pay for the vague “only interested in giving oral” label I had carelessly included on my profile, dragging me through a level of degradation I had never anticipated.

    Descriptions only go so far, and the best way to capture this moment is with a physical prop because words alone will never fully convey how massive Tony was. If you’re up for it, pause your reading, head to the fridge, and grab a Grade-A egg, preferably a jumbo one. Don’t worry; your significant other won’t notice it missing. Are you back? Now, go ahead and stuff that egg into your mouth. Open wide and keep it there. That’s it. Don’t worry, no one’s watching. Pretty big, huh? This is as close as you’ll get to understanding what I dealt with, short of experiencing Tony firsthand.

    I struggled to consume him, my vulnerable position providing no relief as he alternated between stuffing each testicle into my mouth. Each reentry elicited a feminine grunt from him as my mouth stretched to its limits. My breathing was restricted, with only fleeting moments to catch my breath between what felt like a cruel game. Tony deliberately kept each ball in place just long enough to make me squirm, forcing me to seek oxygen through my nose, wedged between his butt crack, as I fought against the suffocating pressure.

    The head of his still-flaccid cock hung down past his balls, occasionally brushing against my chin and neck with his movements. His limp state was a clear sign that the current action was more about humiliating me than inducing pleasure. “Do you like my balls, Steve?” he taunted, his voice muffled by his body. I responded with a muted mumble of agreement before he swiftly lifted himself onto his tiptoes and stepped back, causing the ceiling to come back into view. His abrupt stop felt like part of a pattern, as if he were following a timed schedule.

    As I looked up at an upside-down Tony, still clad in his rainbow tank top, I struggled to catch my breath and process the shame of what had just happened. Suddenly, he shifted to the left, moving toward the desk and the grimy yellow chair. “Come here,” he commanded. I rolled over and slowly pushed myself to my feet, the blood rushing back into my body from my head that had hung off the bed, causing me to stumble as I fought to regain my balance like a boxer getting off the mat. Before I could fully steady myself, Tony sunk into the yellow chair, releasing another feminine grunt as he did.

    I hesitated before stepping toward the chair just a few feet away. The grin on Tony’s face and the way his legs naturally opened made my next instruction clear. His balls, still glistening with my saliva, rested against the stained yellow fabric of the grimy chair, which had likely borne witness to countless scenarios like the one about to unfold. Dropping to my knees, barely a foot from his flaccid cock draped over his balls, I struggled to reconcile the sight of the man attached to it peering at me through his oversized glasses. My gaze flickered between his cock and the discolored fabric, deliberately avoiding his eyes.

    Time seemed to stand still. Despite Tony having already shattered my self-image beyond repair, I knelt on the grimy carpet, anxiously awaiting his command. The embodiment of my desires over the past decade was now just inches from my face. Even after everything he had put me through, it felt surreal to realize that I hadn’t even touched his cock yet. Though I could physically overpower this twenty-two-year-old twink with ease, I was trembling, desperate for the nearly footlong kielbasa I had witnessed the night before to reappear. My nervous anticipation echoed every degrading act he had already subjected me to.

    Tony shattered the silence with a provocative question: “What do you think your wife would say right now, Steve?” His words struck me like a lightning bolt, sending a jolt through my body and causing my heart to skip a beat. I looked up at him, his wry smile and piercing gaze amplified by his glasses. The mention of Amy, now a tool for his taunting, brought me back to the harsh reality of my situation. Stunned and at a loss for words, I shifted nervously, feeling the grime of the carpet pressing uncomfortably into my knees.

    “Show me what she looks like,” he demanded, cutting me off before I could acknowledge his previous comment. Paralyzed by shock and compelled to comply, my hand moved almost involuntarily into my shorts pocket. At that moment, Tony was the puppet master, and I was his puppet, helplessly following his lead. I fumbled with my phone, nervously unlocking it with my thumbprint and navigating to my messages before hesitantly expanding the selfie Amy had sent just minutes earlier. The situation had suddenly turned personal.

    “Oh, my goodness, she’s cute,” Tony remarked, his lisp becoming more pronounced as I turned the phone toward him. He snatched it from my hand, bringing it closer to his face for a better look. After studying the picture momentarily, he flashed a taunting smirk and said, “Nice work, Steve.” Fully aware of how unsettling it was to lose control of my phone and have my wife suddenly thrust into this moment, he reveled in the discomfort he was causing. “Aww, it’s a girl!” he exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he took notice of the pink paint samples Amy displayed in the picture, which only intensified my guilt.

    “How far along is she?” he asked, leaning back in the chair and widening his legs, a gesture that only served to emphasize his dominance. His inquiry felt more like a taunt than a genuine question. Suddenly, his limp cock began to rise from his hefty balls, still slick with my saliva, seemingly stirred by the weight of my guilt and the thought of Amy. I hesitated for a moment, my heart racing. “Eight months,” I finally managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper, but I could tell he didn’t care about my response. His playful smirk never wavered, as if my answer was irrelevant in the grand scheme of things.

    “That’s great!” he exclaimed, his taunting exuberance fading into the background as I became entranced by the transformation of his flaccid seven-inch cock into its infamous near-foot-long length in just seconds. Instinctively, I reached for my phone, desperate to shift the focus away from Amy. However, my attempt was thwarted when he slapped my hand away.

    Tony pulled the phone away from his face but didn’t return it to me. Instead, he turned it around, screen facing outward, and propped it against his stomach just above his belly button, secured by the hem of his flamboyant tank top. “I think she wants to watch,” he taunted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as Amy’s image unwittingly became the backdrop to the fully erect kielbasa now pointed directly at my face, its mushroom helmet seeping pre-cum. “What do you want to do, Steve?” he asked abruptly, the air conditioner cutting off and plunging the room into near silence as he looked down at me, awaiting my response.

    “I want to suck your cock,” I muttered, my desperate plea echoing in the silent room as I stared down the barrel of Tony’s fully loaded salami doing everything I could to avoid locking eyes with the digital image of my wife resting against the rainbow backdrop of his stomach. Words that felt foreign just a day ago flowed effortlessly from my mouth, the shame of voicing my desire melting away.

    “Tell her what you want to do, Steve,” he commanded, his eyes behind his thick glasses urging me to focus on the phone. “I want to suck his cock,” I blurted out as Amy stared back at me, almost as if she were there in person, my voice trembling. “Say her name, naughty boy,” he taunted with a smirk. “I want to suck his cock, Amy,” I responded without hesitation, feeling every ounce of shame dissolve into the air around me.

    “It’s all yours, Steve,” he said with a giggle, reclining as far back as the crusty chair would allow, spreading his legs wide within the limits of the chair’s arms. He laced his hands behind his head, exposing his bare armpits, my phone resting in plain view on his stomach, moving up and down with his breath. My momentary hesitation, triggered by the sight of Amy staring back at me, quickly faded. Instinctively, I reached out with both hands, pausing briefly before wrapping them around Tony, his massive mushroom cap still protruding from my double-fisted masculine grip.

    Hands typically reserved for handling some of the most advanced weaponry on the planet were now reduced to gripping Tony’s thick, beefy cock. The unfamiliar sensation of another man in my hands was overwhelming, almost embarrassing. I began to stroke him. “Oh, that feels good,” he taunted, his voice oozing satisfaction, fueled by the discomfort he knew I felt with Amy’s image staring back at me. With each stroke, the swollen mushroom head, too large to be covered by my double-fisted grip, began to glisten as beads of pre-cum accumulated on the tip, thick and slick, growing with every pull.

    “Look at her, Steve,” Tony commanded, directing my gaze past his gigantic salami toward his stomach, where Amy stared back at me. My attention was split between her, witnessing the downfall of the man she wouldn’t even recognize, and the increasingly explicit scene unfolding before me. “Ohh, yes, Steve, lube it up!” Tony yelled, his lisp-laced voice mixing with the wet, lewd sounds now filling the room. The rhythmic squelching of my hand sliding up and down his thick shaft, as wide as a shaving cream can, became a steady cadence. At the apex of each stroke, I caught the warm, thick pre-cum pooling at the tip, glistening under the light. With each pass, his cock grew progressively juicier, creating a vivid symphony of slickness that filled the room.

    “Do you like my cock, Steve?” he taunted, his grin evident in my peripheral vision. I was too distracted to realize my hands were now completely coated in Tony’s pre-cum; all I could manage was a breathless, “Oh my God.” Captivated by his sheer size, my eagerness intensified as I lifted my arms, resting my elbows on his spread thighs, and began to stroke him faster, my instincts taking over. Treating Tony’s cock like a new toy on Christmas morning, I explored every inch of his massive member, stroking its entire near-foot-long length with a desperation that felt foreign to the man I once was.

    “Put your mouth on it,” he commanded, and my hands froze mid-stroke as I stared down the glistening barrel of the type of wiener I had dreamt about for a decade, quickly realizing the shift in expectation. My ultimate fantasy was about to come to fruition. “Keep stroking,” he added, snapping my hands back into motion as I leaned forward, my mouth hovering just inches from his cock. Hesitation crept in, the scent of his pre-cum filling my nose. I glanced up at his acne-scarred face, grinning from ear to ear, then down past the phone where Amy still watched. My eyes settled on his enormous flesh helmet, and I moved closer, feeling a pull that defied my will.

    My mouth opened as I moved in, hesitating briefly as my entire life up to that moment flashed through my mind. I took one final glance at Amy on the screen, still staring at me from the phone propped up on Tony, her expression an unsettling blend of shame and encouragement. Finally, I wrapped my lips around his mushroom tip, drawing a feminine grunt. The foreign taste of his pre-cum hit my tongue, a strange, tangible sensation I had only experienced through the screen and could have never prepared for. As I stretched the corners of my mouth to take him in, new textures, tastes, and smells overwhelmed my senses. Tony, arms still behind his head, wore a broad smile as he looked down at the latest straight man he had broken, savoring every second of my submission and relishing the culmination of ten years of desperation I had suddenly unleashed on his cock helmet.

    “Keep stroking,” Tony commanded, his lispy voice a blend of authority and satisfaction, compelling my hands back into their double-fisted rhythm. My lips remained sealed around his swollen tip, struggling to adjust to his girth. I quickly realized the pre-cum gathering on his meaty tip had no escape but into my mouth. His essence seeped in with each pull, warm and slick, filling me more with every upward stroke. The salty flavor coated my tongue, creating an overwhelming urgency as it pooled. Filled to capacity, I had no choice but to let it spill out, trickling down his cock, cascading over his hefty balls, and pooling beneath us in the disgusting chair.

    “Oh, Steve, so sloppy!” he taunted, as I remained attached to his kielbasa like it was a lifeline. My double-fisting motion, now enhanced by the slick combination of saliva and pre-cum, began to elicit genuine moans of pleasure from Tony as I looked up at him, doing my best to avoid the image of Amy still staring at me from my phone. He peered down through his glasses, his acne scars more pronounced under the dim light. “Holy shit!” he screamed, his moans acknowledging my effort, the sound of his juices swirling in my mouth blending with his satisfied groans. His mouth opened in a wide grin, revealing his snaggled teeth as he reveled in the sight of my submission, and in that moment, I suddenly yearned to please the man attached to the cock.

    “Oh fuck, Steve!” Tony shouted as the air conditioner hummed back to life, blending with the symphony of slurping sounds and his moans. He lowered his arms from behind his head and patted me on the head, mockingly and oddly affectionately, before removing the phone from his stomach. He turned it around to take one last look at the screen with a sly grin before glancing back down at me, still attached to him. Like every other act we’d performed so far, Tony abruptly ended it as though he were operating on some internal schedule.

    Placing the phone down on the arm of the chair, Tony’s hands gripped the sides of my head, gently but firmly pushing me off his cock. “Let’s go over to the bed,” he said, his tone calm and matter-of-fact, moving on without hesitation. I used his skinny, pale thighs to push off as I rose to my feet, catching a brief glimpse of him still seated, his gaze fixed on me. As he stood, I wiped my saliva and pre-cum-coated hands on my shirt, smearing the mess onto the fabric and unintentionally shaming the service I represented. I brushed off the bits of lint and dust from my knees, the filthy carpet beneath me a stark reminder of the seedy place where Tony had stolen my manhood.

    He walked past me, leaving me standing by the chair, a swirl of anticipation and confusion coursing through my veins. Moving to the foot of the bed, he retrieved the worn towel he had previously spread out, its frayed edges betraying its countless uses. As he reached the side of the bed, he fanned the grimy towel over the pillow, a taunting smile creeping across his face as he glanced back at me. His gaze directed me silently, conveying his intention without the need for words, urging me to lie down on the bed and submit to whatever was about to unfold.

    I hesitated before climbing back onto the bed, mirroring my earlier movements and resting my head on the grimy, towel-covered pillow, conveniently angled at a forty-five-degree tilt. I had seen enough porn to anticipate what was about to happen, yet I still found myself in denial about the reality of the situation. Tony stood at the foot of the bed, hands on his hips, grinning as he waited for me to settle in. His cock remained fully erect, slick with the mix of saliva and pre-cum I had created, glistening under the harsh light.

    “Put your arms by your side,” he commanded. I complied immediately, positioning my arms beside me like a rigid board. My horizontal position made it impossible to hide the hard-on straining against my basketball shorts, which paled in comparison to Tony’s impressive size. Although only half his length and girth, it was the only thing standing between lust and shameful regret, fueling my fantasy even though I knew its eventual release would plunge me into shame I’d carry for the rest of my life. As I lay there, nerves tightened in my chest, causing my breathing to become shallow. A mix of anticipation and anxiety left me feeling exposed and vulnerable. My body was tense as I watched Tony slowly begin to close the distance between us.

    “Someone’s excited!” he playfully exclaimed, noticing my shorts as he approached. He knee-walked toward me, climbing me like a ladder, his legs parting mine. I was entranced, unable to look away as the rock-hard kielbasa advanced toward me in what felt like slow motion. As he drew nearer, I began to open my mouth, eager to accept him even before he crossed my torso. The glistening mushroom head that topped his gigantic salami moved closer, stopping just short of insertion into my mouth, leaving me there pathetically with my awaiting mouth wide open. Finally, he settled down on my chest, bearing the total weight of his 110-pound twink frame.

    Looking up, I met Tony’s gaze as he peered down at me, his hands now firmly planted on his hips. He flashed a teasing grin, one final taunt before he paused, the engorged mushroom head hovering just above my lips. Then, with a sudden movement, he nudged forward, stuffing my mouth with his impressive girth. As he pushed in, a loud moan escaped his lips, echoing in the air. With nowhere for my head to go, now nearly pressed against the headboard, I was left in a vulnerable position, desperately trying to please him. I swished his head around in my packed mouth the best way I knew how, feeling the enormous tip stretch my lips as the tangy taste of his pre-cum was quickly reintroduced, mixing with my saliva as I instinctively began to work my tongue around his mushroom.

    A couple of minutes passed before Tony, suddenly growing impatient, seized his shaft with his right hand. He pulled out just enough to create a bridge of pre-cum between my mouth and the tip of his cock before reinserting it with the same rhythm he had used when he had stuffed his gigantic testicles into my mouth. With each extraction, he let out a playful giggle, clearly enjoying the lewd sounds echoing in the room. As he began to jerk himself off with a steady motion, the slick mix of our combined juices squelched with each stroke. Each thrust of his nearly footlong shaft released a generous dollop of pre-cum into my mouth, serving as a stark reminder of what was to come. Although I had always known how this would inevitably end, I remained in denial as Tony unleashed a series of degrading taunts that would forever haunt me.

    “Are you ready for my sperm, Steve?” Tony teased, stuffing his swollen tip back into my mouth, forcing my reply into a muffled, pathetic mumble. I glanced up at him, the overhead light catching the rainbow pattern of his tank top, which only amplified the exaggerated “s” in the word “sperm” as it slipped from his lisp-laden voice. “Do you want my cum?” he demanded, louder this time, his gaze shifting to the ceiling as his hand quickened its rhythm. From my vantage point, I could see his crooked smile growing wider with each feminine grunt, his body responding to his own stimulation as he reveled in his dominance.

    I quickly realized how ill-prepared I was for this moment as I found myself in the very position of the hundreds of female porn stars I one day envisioned swapping places with during their finishing scenes. The impossible search criteria I had once counted on to shield me from this reality had utterly failed. As Tony pulled himself out of my mouth and looked down, waiting for an answer, I instinctively let out a “fuck yes!” a response driven purely by cruel hormones and the pathetic hard-on threatening to explode in my shorts.

    “Oh yes, Steve, you are a nasty boy,” Tony yelled, his hand jerking his cock with a rhythm that, as a man, I recognized as unsustainable. I knew he was close, and the moment I had been both dreading and craving was almost upon me, the cherry on top of my transformation. Despite the nervousness gnawing at me, I felt a strange acceptance, even pride, in knowing I was about to be the one he would finish on. I thought back to the desperate tension of the day, the anxiety of each phone refresh, praying for his response. Now, all of that had led me here, and I felt lucky in this twisted way. I was so horny at that moment I would have done anything. My mouth stayed open as Tony continued to stroke his flesh-toned shaving cream can aimed at me. “It’s going to be a lot,” he giggled, the wry smile just visible from my peripheral vision as I focused on his bare midriff.

    My focus on Tony shifted as he adjusted his legs, which had been positioned outside my arms. He suddenly moved them inward, pinning me beneath him, wrapping his legs around my arms down to my wrists like anacondas immobilizing their prey. Shifting his weight back a few inches, he sat lower on my chest, his 110-pound frame in the exact spot that limited my lateral movement. My head was now pressed against the headboard, trapped on all sides, entirely at the mercy of a twink with a fully loaded footlong salami. With his engorged mushroom now out of reach from my mouth, Tony continued stroking himself without missing a beat, his control over the situation growing with every motion.

    Ready to accept my fate, I relaxed under his firm restraint, concentrating on syncing each pull of his cock with any subtle audible cue that might signal the first rope of twink glue about to shoot from his beef cannon toward my face. In due time, the air conditioner shut off, plunging the room into a dead silence, save for Tony’s moans and the squishing sound of his shaft, continuously slick from the endless supply of manmade fluid oozing from his helmet. My mind briefly wandered to thoughts of Amy, who was likely swiping a fresh coat of pink paint across the walls at home just as Tony was about to make his masterpiece on her husband. And then, just as I braced for the inevitable, something unexpected happened.

    As Tony continued yanking himself, I watched in confusion as his left arm suddenly disappeared behind him. Before I could fully process what was happening, I felt his hand grasp the top of my hard-on, beginning to play with me with his fingers through my shorts. The unexpected contact sent a surge of anxiety through me, making my heart race with a mix of confusion and dread. Instinctively, I bucked my chest upward, doing everything I could to make him pull his hand away. But my efforts were futile. Tony tightened his grip around my arms with his legs, pressing more of his weight strategically onto my chest, immobilizing me even more than I already had been.

    My initial plea was silenced as Tony stuffed his swollen tip back into my mouth. The hard-on I had resisted touching since meeting him, the driving fuel behind this twisted encounter, was now dangerously close to erupting beyond my control. “Yee-haw!” he exclaimed playfully, releasing his grip from my cock and raising his hand in the air like a bull rider as I bucked beneath him. My body thrashed under his control, but his tiny frame mirrored my movements effortlessly, staying firmly in place. Trapped, I suddenly surrendered, accepting my fate, ready to go along with whatever he had planned. The dread of climaxing before he was done with me hit like a wave of fear, far more intense than anything I’d felt before. The usual guilt I felt after indulging in my secret fantasies was nothing compared to the overwhelming shame that would consume me if I lost control now.

    Tony’s arm snaked back down behind him, his fingers again wrapping around the tent in my shorts while his other hand continued to jerk himself off into my mouth. I fought not to climax, but my body ultimately succumbed to his unplanned touch. After hours of building tension, the blue balls that had ached for release took over, and I lost control as it started gushing out against my will. His flesh helmet muffled my moans, amplifying the shame I felt as I came. With each squirt into my shorts, the lust left my body, replaced by an exponential rush of guilt that settled deeper within me. Sensing my climax, Tony tightened his grip around my head, releasing a taunting giggle at my release. I had never cum so hard in my life, yet the weight of my shame overshadowed every wave of pleasure.

    As Tony released his grip on me, the remnants of my remains dribbled out unassisted into my shorts, my passion and lust for the bisexual lifestyle evaporating in an instant as my cock pulsated from the aftermath. I looked up helplessly at Tony, who gazed down at me with a different grin, hinting at a first-hand knowledge of the regret that came with my release, a sentiment he had experienced enough times to recognize. Undeterred, he used his free hand, the very one that had just shattered my will, to join his gigantic kielbasa. With a steady rhythm, he began double-fisting himself, his head still firmly lodged in my mouth.

    Regret crashed over me like a wave as images of Amy flooded my mind, but Tony’s grunts quickly drowned out my thoughts. “Oh shit!” he yelled, pumping himself with both hands into my stuffed mouth, utterly indifferent to my feelings. “Oh Steve, I’m gonna cum!” he shouted again, abruptly slowing his rhythm and removing his left hand from his salami. My heart raced as I looked up at him, his head tilted back and mouth open, revealing crooked teeth with metal braces that gleamed in the light. An unmistakable expression spread across his acne-scarred face, signaling the inevitable.

    “Ugggg!” Tony screeched, his high-pitched, almost melodic feminine grunt perfectly synchronized with a powerful jet of sperm that struck the back of my throat like a liquid missile. The force of his release magnified my shame, leaving me feeling utterly trapped, pinned against the headboard at the mercy of his dominance. My head slammed back, the pillow offering little protection as my body reacted to his initial barrage, instinctively trying to pull away from the onslaught. Just as I was reeling from the first wave, another grunt escaped his lips. In a sudden twist, he pulled out mid-shot, the output of his second rope of cum filling my mouth, with its remainder splattering squarely between my eyes.

    I began to cough involuntarily, struggling to adjust to the first shot that still lingered at the back of my throat. Just then, a third powerful rope erupted from his kielbasa, skipping off my forehead and splattering against the headboard behind me, the noise echoing in the quiet room. I could feel his heavy balls, still resting on my chest, shift as they reloaded his cum cannon. “Oh, God!” Tony exclaimed, his voice laced with pleasure. A fourth shot struck me squarely in my left eye, causing me to turn my head to the right instinctively. This movement placed me directly in the path of a fifth shot, which hit me in the right eye with the same relentless velocity as the first, sealing my eyes shut and completely blinding me in a warm burst of humiliation.

    I’d have done anything for this to end, to somehow vanish from Tony’s room and reappear in my own, where I could drown in my regret and bad decisions alone. But instead, everything seemed to move in slow motion, each second dragging out and prolonging an agony that had been lust just moments ago. The desire that once consumed me had vanished, left behind in the gooey mess now soaking into my basketball shorts through my underwear as my cock retreated in shame from Tony’s forced touch. My eyes were glued shut by his barrage, but his grunts ensued, echoing through the room. He continued to unload onto my face, each squirt somehow finding a spot he hadn’t already covered in what felt like a punishment that would never end.

    Suddenly, his mushroom head pressed forcefully against my lips, and I opened my mouth to take him in, as if I had any other option. He grunted again, sealing my mouth shut as the dwindling force of his fountain released its last remains inside me. Through the semen-laced fog clouding my vision, the familiar squishing sounds of Tony stroking himself filled the room, squeezing out the final drops from his grapefruit-sized balls. Even with my sight blurred, I could sense his shadow looming above me. I didn’t need to see his smirk to know it was there, the moment lingering as he paused, giving me time to process what had just happened.

    “Woo, what a mess,” he taunted with a giggle. The pressure from his legs against my sides suddenly subsided as he untangled his hold, freeing my restricted arms. Instinctively, I reached for the towel beside my head, yanking it over my face in a desperate attempt to clean off the mess and restore my vision, as if that would somehow bring my dignity back. My eyes still stung as my sight returned, just in time to watch Tony’s near-footlong salami returning to its seven-inch flaccid state before my very eyes. He remained straddled over me, hands on his hips, that same shit-eating grin now embedded in my soul.

    Finally, Tony dismounted me and climbed off the bed, leaving me sprawled like a human Jackson Pollock painting, splattered with semen. He glanced back at me, wearing the same expression from the night before, his look silently indicating that it was time for me to leave. “That was fun, Steve; welcome to the club,” he said, his grin fading into a more serious look. He paused at the bathroom door for what felt like ten seconds, giving me one last chance to take in the man-bunned twink who had just altered my life. With a final grin, he disappeared into the bathroom. As he moved away, his voice echoed over his shoulder, “See yourself out; it was nice meeting you,” barely audible over the sound of the shower turning on.

    I lay there for a moment to collect my thoughts, the sound of the shower penetrating the thin wall and blending with the chaotic thoughts swirling in my mind. After gathering myself, I rolled off the bed and sat on the edge, my feet flat on the floor as I tried to process everything that had just happened. My vertical position now caused Tony’s remains to drip down my face, so I grabbed the rough, cheap towel, struggling to wipe my skin clean. The worn fabric was thin and scratchy, and instead of absorbing his juices, it smeared them further across my face, creating streaks that felt like a permanent reminder of my degradation.

    As I rose to my feet, my eyes were drawn to the headboard, where Tony’s second rope, clearly missing its intended target, clung to the wood. The opaque goo dripped slowly down the dusty surface, each droplet a stark reminder of my degradation. It was almost as if he had intentionally missed, contemplating my shame at this moment. The headboard served as a symbolic tombstone to my submission, a silent testament to my new sexual identity, marking the irreversible shift of what I had become.

    Gathering myself, I grabbed my phone off the arm of the chair and made my way toward the door, desperate to escape, pretending that I could compartmentalize what had happened and forget it all once I left the room. However, I was cruelly confronted by the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door, forcing me to face the unrecognizable man staring back at me. The wet spot from Tony’s unwanted extraction had seeped through my underwear, leaving a large stain on the crotch of my basketball shorts. Yet, that was the least of my shame as I struggled to meet my gaze, facing the broken man Tony had left in his wake for the first time.

    The sound of Tony washing away the remnants of the evening through the bathroom door faded into white noise as I fixated on my reflection. Spots of his sperm that I had missed with the towel clung to my face, while my goatee became ground zero for an embarrassing magnet for his essence. The harsh glare from the cheap can light in the foyer only intensified the smeared cum I wore as a mask, creating a striking contrast against my flushed complexion. I was an absolute mess, unable to bear the sight of myself for another moment, acutely aware that I would never again look in the mirror without reliving the memories of the man who stared back at me in that instant.

    Taking one last look at myself, I pulled the door open and shut it behind me, bracing for the 500-foot walk of shame that lay ahead. I knew my life would never be the same. In a few days, I would go home to my pregnant wife, and a month from now, I would be a father, burdened with the shame of this evening for the rest of my life.

  • Sixteen Hours Til Sunrise

    I sat at my dining room table cruising for some hot cock to press my ass into.  I’d been dampening the front of my boxer briefs all day in anticipation.  I guess some needs have the ability to push themselves to the top of the list of priorities.  Penetration did that to my list all the time.  I had to get fucked!

     A 52 year old who remained nameless opened up a chat and initiated a discussion using the absolute best possible technique.  He unlocked!  That’s how you get a hot, twenty-five year old bottom to interact the quickest, I have found.  Talk to me and I talk back.  But when a guy confidently and without solicitation opens up to me by voyeuristically sending me selfies or, even better, pics of him naked and taken by another, I begin to create images of hips smashing into ass, holes parting for cock, tongue slapping up against tight, unused puckers.

     What I saw, I liked.  First pic, mid-belly to knees shot wearing a jock with a 9” cock slipped out the side, hanging down, as yet, not erect.  Next, the corner of a room in his house.  In that corner, a self-sustained sling, an experience I’ve only enjoyed one night in my life.  I experienced it three times that night, but I wanted more.  Third pic, gloryholes, two of them.  That was the clincher.

    Immediately, I unlocked and asked him for directions for a 55 minute drive.  I figured with all those toys he had it would be worth it!  He saw my pics, was into it, and forwarded me his location.  From this point up to my knocking on his front door, 90 minutes had passed.  I was eager.

     It was cold outside and I had bundled up for this trip.  He made me feel comfortable by showing me around his split-level ranch, which was warm, very warm, actually.  I found myself removing layers as he took me from room to room.  By the time he finished showing me the upper level of the ranch, I was down to a t-shirt and shorts with a jock beneath.  Three articles to go.  Next was to ask me if I wanted to have a drink to which I responded that I didn’t drink.  He joked that I must dehydrate often and I realized he meant water or juice.  I laughed, acquiesced, and he grabbed 5-6 bottles just for me before we headed downstairs.  I took that to mean that we were not coming back up anytime soon.

     On the way down, I took notice of the numbers on his thermostat.  The temperature was set to a balmy 82 degrees.  What the fuck!?  I didn’t question this odd choice to overheat his home, but I sure was dropping water weight and fast!

    There wasn’t much to see downstairs that wasn’t seen in the pics in his profile.  Simply put, this guy lived a single lifestyle and, because of this, was free to make his lower level into a sex dungeon, of sorts.  It wasn’t all whips and chains, but the highlights included the sling, the gloryholes, a five-by-five section of a wall just for dildos, car battery complete with electrodes, and a lifelike sex doll of, what I deduced, was some gay porn star which I didn’t give two fucks about.  It was just very funny to me.

     Anyway, I made a beeline for the sling and asked if I could climb into it.  This one was built so the head can hang back for a good spit-roasting, but I figured this was a moot point since it was just the two of us.

    “Woah there!  Wait a second.  We will work our way there.  First, though, you have a cock to suck, you little slut.”  Damn, he was right.  I was rushing.  He wore black jogging pants that he easily slipped off.  With nothing beneath, there was only an eyeful of cock staring back at me.  When soft, my hand could just barely wrapped around it.  But as soon as I grabbed it, it began jumping and swelling.  I opened really wide and inserted him in my mouth.  He smelled like a shower and a little like crotch.  Clean crotch, which was nice.

    When I was certain his cock wouldn’t surprise me with some foreign flavor, I hunkered down and began trying to throat him, though his now hard member was so thick, my jaw, at its widest, had trouble not scathing him with my teeth.  I nuzzled his shaved ball sack and he used his cock to bat me in the face a few times as I inhaled deeply through my nose to catch all those pungent aromas.

    His cock now shining and sloppy from my furious attempts to get it to penetrate my throat, he told me to remove my shorts, bend over, and lean on a bar stool nearby.  He then went to the sex toy wall and produced a toy that looked to be pushing 12 inches in length of some sort of real skin-type material that gave a bit when squeezed and was also as long as my forearm is, elbow to fingertip.  

    “Let’s go slow,” he said as if he was teaching a class.

    With all the anticipation, I just uttered, “Agreed.”  My jaw was shaking.

    He took a bottle of lube and went to apply some to my crack, but I asked if he could work it in without, the way I like to start.  He got extremely turned on at this request and pushed the bottle aside.  I pulled my ass apart as much as possible as the head pressed against my freshly shorn butthole and pressure was applied.  He knew what he was doing because as he pushed, he also made this sort of corkscrew motion that inched the dildo in me even though there was nothing yet to ease the initial penetration process.

    Suddenly,  my hands released each side of my ass as I felt a sharp pain that was, unmistakably, my opening being breached and letting me know to be careful because the toy was putting a great deal of stress on me.  I gasped and then was asked if all was well.  I nodded and used my hands to spread my cheeks again, which was his queue to continue.

    Once the head disappeared, the widest point of the toy, the rest was manageable.  Within a minute from breach, my ass had swallowed 3/4 of the entire length.  He slowly pulled out until the head popped out, but still leaned against my opening.  He then spit onto the huge crown against my hole which made the second breach easier to accomplish, but also signaled my partner to push harder.  So he did.  After the head stabbed past my o-ring; he rammed my ass like he was trying to take down a castle gate.  

    “I bet you like it rough.  All sluts do.  Am I right?”

    My ass hurt from being pried apart and all I could respond with was a nod confirming my desire for rough treatment.  Once I nodded, he began pulling the toy out to the head and then pushing it back in until it was gone.  Out, then in.  Over and over.  As he pumped me, I chugged almost an entire bottle of water from the work my body was performing.  I got very excited as I imagined that the head of the toy was somewhere in my tummy.  After 10 minutes, I was so out of breath I asked to change positions, to which he responded by commanding me to lay on my back in missionary.  This time, his cock was going to be entering me.

    He brought his crotch above me, hovering over my face and said, “It’s not hard yet.  Suck that dick.”  I took him into my mouth and when I did, he thrusted his hips downward and started ramming his cock far into my throat, further than I could normally handle, so I began gagging violently.  When he finally removed his member, I sucked air into my lungs and normal color returned to my face.  He did it again; rammed it down my throat, held it there, and removed.  He repeated this series of moves 5 or 6 times and once hard, removed and showed me what 9 hard inches looked like, not that I hadn’t seen it before, but every cock is new.  This one was no different.

    And it wasn’t the hardness that intimidated me, it was the girth.  He was so thick, I was afraid I wasn’t up to the task.  He walked down my body, past my torso, until his unsheathed cock was rubbing against my hungry hole.  “Oh wow, it’s a tight one!  I’m gonna fuck you until there’s an echo in that slutty butt hole, you little fucker!”

    He wasted no time at all.  Grabbing the base of his shaft with one hand and pinning my left leg down with the other, he spat, aimed,  hastily entered my ass, mercilessly pounding on me as I felt his cock throb and pulse with the blood running through it.

     It hurt!  But his next move hurt far worse.  I love having my hole played with, so when he reached a few feet away and grabbed one of his toys, a real-skin, dark tan, 8 inch and thick dong, I knew he was planning on shoving his cock along with that toy up my ass together.  I didn’t hesitate to offer him the go ahead.  First, the dildo, which went in pretty easily and felt great once the only visible part of the toy was its suction cup.  Then he pressed his massive cock and slid it against my taint until his crown was at my pucker, pulled the toy out a few inches, and then, with one swift motion, he simultaneously pushed the dildo back in and thrusted himself inside until his cock disappeared in my ass.  With both his cock and the dildo stretching me out, my hole was close to the circumference of a baseball bat.  

     As I mentioned, it hurt, but I like the feeling of being taken with little regard for my safety.  I swore, “Oh my God! Fuck me!!!”  And so he did.  The next 5-10 minutes were spent getting my ass reamed out hard and deep.  I’d look down to see my assailant’s cock just before having it swallowed by my ever-widening hole.  He would pull out and then ram it deeply into my ass.  I was getting worn out taking his abuse, both bodily and verbally, so I asked for a drink.

    “Sure, you little slut!  You got it.”  While his cock and that bulbous dildo were still both working my hole open, he grabbed a water, opened it, and squeezed the bottle all over me.  “You like that you little bitch?!!”  Then he grabbed the back of my head, lifted me so I could view his assault on my butt, and began pumping me with his first of many orgasms.  He would bury himself to the balls, shoot, then thrust again and shoot until he was spent.

     Slowly, after a few minutes, his cock began to soften inside me and I felt it slither out of my ass like a slug on pavement taking a salt bath, followed by a torrent of semen that he just deposited.  I took my fingers and pushed his load back up my ass and followed that up by using the big toy he was double teaming me with.  

     I was under the impression that we had come to the end of a pretty fun time.  But my buddy had other ideas.  

     During our chat, before I headed over to his house, we did mention that we both enjoyed group sex, but that the groups I get into are more gangbangs than orgies, where I go places or invite guys over with similar sexual roles.  I look for tops, all tops.  He must have heard this, because he also acted upon that desire I have to be the pleasure-giving center of the group, the only one with the holes.  His act was to invite 3 of his buddies over, all tops.  They were hiding in the master bedroom closet while I was being shown around the house.  He only showed me around so his pals could have a look at me through the slats of the closet doors they were hiding behind.  I would be told later that the heat turned way up was to get me undressed for a better view of the goods.

    With the dildo still lodged deep in my reddening hole, my buddy returned and produced a length of rope since we had also chatted about bondage.  While in the sling, he wrapped the rope behind my left leg at the knee and pulled the rope back to an eyelet in the wall behind and beneath me.  He then did the same thing to my right leg.  My knees had both been pulled so far back and apart, they were at my eye level and still over a foot from touching my head on each side.  I was very exposed.  If you hovered over me looking down, my body looked almost exactly like the letter “W”.  

     My arms were tied behind my back with the sling fabric acting as a go between for my arms and back.  I’ve been vulnerable before, but never in a sling with my ass jutting out and my arms now completely useless, whatever he was going to do to me next, I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to.  He walked out of the room.  The dildo slid out of my ass and, first with a popping sound as it uncorked my hole and then with a thud, landed on the floor beneath me.

    For his next appearance, he wasn’t alone.  He was accompanied by 3 other men of different ages and body types.  He introduced them as,  simply, his buds, at first.  I was slightly frightened since I had allowed myself to be incapacitated and now I was in a room with men I don’t know or trust.  Like I said, “whatever he was going to do to me next, I couldn’t have stopped it if I wanted to.“

    The three began to comment on the state I was in, touching me all over, picking up the toy and taking turns using it which changed the speed that my ass was being fucked every time it changed users, as well as using their hands to spank my ass, which was beginning to hurt.  Every time a hand came down hard against my flesh, my whole body reacted by tensing up as if to act as a defense mechanism against the painful sting.

    The man I spoke to on line returned and began to speak, “Ok, so when you mentioned liking the feeling of being used by several guys at a time, I took that to heart and contacted him.  That’s Ernie.”  

     Ernie was Puerto Rican.  He was tall and lanky.  Ernie raised his hand, emitted a wave, smiled wide and said, “Hi.”  Playful, I like him.

     The man spoke again, “Ernie said he knew a guy who would jump at this opportunity.  He called him.  The man pointed at the largest in the group and said, “That’s…….shit, Ern, what’s his name again?”

    Ernie was gazing at me and rubbing himself through his pants.  He didn’t hear anything.  The man spoke again, “ERNIE!!”  

     Ernie’s gaze recoiled and he heeded the man who asked the question again.  “Oh, that’s Paul.  He’s my neighbor.  Me, him and his wife have three ways.”  Then back to staring me down, like he was coming up with an attack strategy or something.  I laughed very lightly at his comment as it seemed strangely out of sorts.  It was like he knew it didn’t belong in the context he was in, yet he just had to brag about it to someone.  My small laughing fit ended in seconds.

     The last guy was about my height, 5’11”.  He had a belly but he hadn’t let himself go to the point of being obese.  He did have many piercings on his body; ears, eyebrow, tongue, and both nipples that I saw upon first inspection.  Tattoos were also strewn about him from neck to lower calf.  The man said, “And this little puppy’s name is James.”

     “Hey Ronnie, can we fuck him now?  Enough with the introductions,” James interjected.  And I finally got the homeowner’s name!!

     “Yeah, let’s see where this goes,” Ronnie added as if he were driving down a highway.

    All four converged upon me at once.  Within a minute, I had a guy trying to fist me.  It was James.  I quickly admitted that I’d never done that and that it gets painful at the knuckles.

     “Oh you don’t worry about a thing, piggy, I have a doctorate in fisting.  I even have my own practice that I run out of my house.”  The other three chuckled reminiscently as James materialized a huge bottle of lubricant and commenced to dousing my asshole and butt cheeks with a thick layer.

    I then witnessed them unzip and drop their pants.  When I saw their cocks, it made me recall that part of Ronnie and my chat where he spent some time telling me about his “monopoly on the big cock market,” as he put it.  At the time, I thought, anyone could just say that, not realizing that there was an off chance it could be true.

     That excited me plenty, but I couldn’t have predicted that he would go to these lengths just to see me take them all inside.

     Ernie was uncut, at least 9”, with squiggly veins running the length of his shaft.  Paul, a black man, was a giant; about 6’5” with a gut sticking out from his body and his cock was a soda can wide 6-7”.  James was the personality of the group; light-hearted, but a fierce and aggressive bastard during coital relations whose cock measured a curved 10”, I think.  It was longer than Ernie’s, so I’m guessing 10”.  James added to his piercings by having a curved piece of thick metal through his urethrae.  With Ronnie’s cock thrown into the mix, I was facing down a room filled with 35 total inches that would eventually, I assumed, be inside me, so I knew this wasn’t going to be an easy time for me, but if Ronnie wanted to intimidate me, he clearly didn’t know my history.  Regardless, I played the part just so they wouldn’t be deterred from their dominant position over me.  And in truth, I was scared.  In past trysts, I had been faced with these odds, but my hands were also available to me.  Not here.

    First, at this point in my experiences, I had never had a pierced cock inside my ass or mouth.  I was curious, but had this notion beforehand that it would be no big deal.  Also, some might shudder as they read this to see that there was a somewhat heavier man there.  Not me!  A heavy guy was the first type of guy I ever had inside me and he knew how to use his weight to challenge my balance as he pounded away at me from behind.  So I was pumped about that with the expectation that Paul would offer an extremely powerful thrust and widen my hole with his fat cock.

     As it turned out, Ronnie and James, James who had to remove 4 of his fingers from my ass, made a beeline for my mouth, both taking turns face fucking me as my head hung back off the sling and Ernie left for a moment to use the bathroom, so Paul slowly wandered down to my ass, dropped to one knee, and started fingering my hole, announcing to the others what a pig I was as Ronnie’s load from earlier, which I thought would have exited with the dildo, began to seep out, which only served to make Paul insert more fingers.

     As Paul took his index and middle fingers from each hand and used them to stretch me out, I felt what remained of Ronnie’s load trickle down my cheeks.  Paul got aroused very quickly at this sight and stood up so he could probe my freshly fucked sleeve with that fat black cock described earlier.  

    I had to see Paul’s approach.  I love watching how a man about to enter me goes about his initial breach; mannerisms, where his eyes are looking, what his hands are doing.  So I pushed James out of my mouth and lifted my head to see Paul.  Nothing too out of the ordinary.  Eyes looking at where his cock was going, one hand on my hip, the other resting on my thigh.  His cock didn’t really need guidance since he stood straight out from his body.  A proud cock this was.  He inched forward and within 3-4 baby steps, I felt his head being slowly swallowed by my opening until I accepted him and allowed his whole girth to open me up like a baseball bat!

    Between Ronnie’s conquest of my ass and Paul’s fingers prying me open, his soda can of a cock certainly announced its arrival once it entered me, but only served to make my eyes widen some, and then return to the two cocks feeding my mouth.  As his unmitigated thrusts rammed into my soft ass flesh, the power behind them shot my body back into the two men taking turns on my mouth.  Any control I thought I may have had vanished when I wanted to use my arms as shields to stop my head from swinging into the two cocks fucking my face, but remembered that they were out of commission, immovably tied behind my back and out of sight.  Ronnie and James, through no fault of their own, kept gagging me repeatedly due to Paul’s insistence on using the full force of his weight and leverage, using his frame to push my mouth onto the cock fucking my face.  Once that was realized, though, the three of them seemed more amused than concerned.  And the one lucky enough to have his cock in my mouth at the time of Paul’s assault got an extra special gift and would elate at the occurrence.  

     I stopped being scared.  The feeling for me was now more surreal.  I couldn’t believe I was here in the midst of all this.  My cock leaked, my mouth and ass given to the whims of three quite unattractive, but extremely well endowed monsters.  Ernie was the most attractive of all of them, and he was not attractive.  The fact is that I was turned on, despite all this, and it was definitely because of how big their cocks were.  All unique in their own way, either curvy or veined from tip to base, these guys worked me over for 30 minutes before Ernie returned from the bathroom.

    Ernie made things even more interesting by bringing his own brand of aggressive verbal behavior.  He berated me in Spanish.  I had no idea what he was saying about me, but the mix of his foreign taunts along with his furled eyebrows and gritting teeth was such a turn on that my cock began to jump and eventually swell up until fully rock solid.

    Before this meeting, I explained to Ronnie the one rule I have when I am in the position I was in with these 4 older gents.  I don’t want my cock involved!  Fuck me, tie me down, stretch me out, display me to a crowd, shave me, even piss all over me (while I’m in a shower), but the only way I want to cum is while my ass is being probed so deeply that I can’t control it.

     So, when Ronnie saw I was actually getting hard under my jock, he told his pals, one of whom, James, was reaching for it, “Hey, he’s not interested in getting off unless you can fuck his ass hard enough to make him blow his load.  Leave that hot cock alone!  We’ll break him.”  That short speech excited me so much, I almost shot my load right there.

     Once James heard the challenge, he met it.  Bringing his spear of a cock around my slung up body, kindly urging Paul to clear out, and lining himself up with my slutty and starving anal cavity, he didn’t waste any time.  He quickly spit on his cock and crammed half of it inside me.  I gasped as my eyes looked up and met his with a look of concern.  He was, as I mentioned, aggressive.  After less than 30 seconds of housing half his cock in my ass, he finished the job and inserted the remaining 5 or so inches until all that could be seen was James’ hips flush with my rosy red butt cheeks.  After his eyes stopped rolling in response to me tightening my sphincter muscles around his member, he looked at me, but behind his ear-to-ear simper was a glint of mischief.  He was mulling over his next move.  Seconds passed and then he made good on that impish smile and called Ronnie over as he removed his long member from my ass.

     Now, up to this point, I had experienced 2 men fucking me at once and loved almost every second of each experience.  The “almost” is a story for another time.  I knew that when James called out to Ronnie, it was on.  James dropped to his knees, and, while stroking his own, he took Ronnie deep into his mouth while jerking the base near Ronnie’s sack making his cock go from semi-hard to diamond solid.  For Ronnie to be as old as he was, I was impressed how stout and postured his cock was.  I wanted them so bad I started fingering my ass and tasting my digits.  Two, then 3, then 4 fingers trying to rush my ass open to take what I was about to be given.  But, James the aggressor, swatted my hand away so he could begin fucking me.  Giddily, he exclaimed, “Hot damn this is gonna be fun!”

     I felt James set the head of his member at my opening, by now, slightly gaped even when it wasn’t stuffed with cock.  The thick metal gage through his shaft was the first sensation that I could feel as he began to push pretty hard while holding his cock at the base, forcing blood to swell up his already plump mushroom-like head.  Though my hole proved not to be as cooperative as I thought it would have been by now, James was relentless.  Against my defenses, he pushed and thrusted and stabbed until 5 of his 10 curved inches were planted inside me.  

     I begged him, “Fuck my brains out, mother fucker!”

     But he had a plan to execute and Ronnie was the other half of that plan.  James would provide the pace, but Ronnie had the girth.  Put together, I knew my ass was going to both hurt and gobble down every last ounce of cock meat forced inside me, because what bottom worth his salt doesn’t love a challenge.  “What did u just call me, you little bitch?!”

    “I told you to fuck me hard, or is that big, hard, pierced flesh mound between your legs all for show?!”  I wanted to challenge him to see what I could take.  While waiting for Ronnie to lube his fat cock, I began chiding James, giving him reasons to not like me, reasons to want to hurt me.

     “Hey Ronnie.  You almost ready?  What are you doing?  This little ho is trying to get under my skin and I want to shut his fucking mouth.”

     “Well then you already know how to do that.  I’m sending a text.  I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

     James looked at me intensely.  His eyes were shaped angrily with the wrinkles on his forehead growing deeper as if he was considering his next move.  Ernie made his way to my mouth, but my gaze was pointed directly at James.  I needed to know his next move for the sake of preparing for the sensation.  I didn’t want to overreact.  He wasn’t going to get the better of me.

     But Ernie was undaunted from his aim.  When I failed to react to Ernie’s flaccid, uncut monster batting me in the side of my head, he forced my head back and began to curse me for my lack of acknowledgement.  As he sent a torrent of Spanglish insults at me, he grabbed my throat and pushed his cock against my lips.  He was regaining his erection and my pursed lips couldn’t stop his growing meat sword from puncturing my defense, forcing his entire shaft into  my mouth, and worst of all, taking my eyes from James, who, once Ernie began having his way with my face, started very swiftly and one at a time pushing fingers into my opening until he had 4 inside me.  All but his thumb.  I’ve attempted, many times, the unorthodoxy known as fisting and failed almost every time at the knuckles.  Never, up to this experience, did my ass swallow a fist. When James, that sneaky bastard with his piercings and tats, started in on my beaten and stretched sleeve, I was 100% certain he was going to have his way!  With Ernie now completely engorged and raping my face and my arms still tied and out of play, I had no way of communicating my fear.

     Then, Ronnie, as if sent by God himself, proclaim, “DONE!”  His eyes swerved to see what was happening to me.  Ernie’s cock immediately recoiled from my throat, but didn’t exit from the warmth of my mouth.  James, was stalwart and with Ernie relenting, I was able to raise my head enough to see that James was about to have his thumb join in.  Playfully put out, Ronnie barked, “Hey, jackass!  do you want him to feel it when we both get into his ass or not.  Holster that fist.  Until later.  That I gotta see.  So, you little toy.  Did you like my cock inside you before when we were alone?  Wait!  Don’t answer that.  Doesn’t matter.”  He reached both hands down slowly, their destinations were no mystery.  His left hand wrapped around his own cock.  His right grasped James’ undulating member.  When Ronnie’s hand squeezed James tightly, James’ cock released a decent-sized dew drop of pre cum which Ronnie used his thumb to spread all around that beautiful crown attached to one ill-mannered man.

     “Let me just guide you to the hole, Jimmy.  I love how your cock feels in my hand.”

     “Fuck yeah!”  Then to me, “Ready or not…..” his cock was now perpendicular with my opening, pressing inward, with enough pressure that it began to bend slightly about midway down the shaft.  I was shivering with excited anticipation knowing that my already stretched opening would give way in seconds and that hot cock would make its speedy and shocking entry into my cum and lube soaked ass.

    Ronnie, a consummate pro at this Alpha role he was playing, said, “Paul, why don’t you keep his mouth busy.  If his teeth scathe your thick black cock, take one of his nipples into your fingers and squeeze.  That should be warning enough.  Ernie, squirt some lube on our play thing’s fuck hole.  Then, if you have a nice store of man juice packed in those balls, cum all over that bitch’s face.”

     As Ronnie commanded his minions, my cock responded by jolting and jumping until I was fully erect and stiff as a plank.  Paul took his place and my head lowered until Ronnie and James were out of my sights and all I could see was a mass of hard flesh between Paul’s dimpled legs.  He began battering his man missile into the back of my mouth.  As he did this, I felt Ernie following the instructions given as a long stream of lube connected with my hole and almost immediately gave James access to my sleeve.  Shortly thereafter, Ernie’s dangling foreskin appeared in my eye line, being peeled back to reveal that prominent Puerto Rican helmet atop his delicious cock.

    As Paul’s cock roughed up my mouth, I felt my incisors gently brush the base of his extremely fat member.  He twisted my nipple, holding his cock inside my mouth so I couldn’t respond with a yelp or a holler.  “Don’t do it again, bitch!”  He pulled his cock back and as he did, Ernie, without a warning moan or even a leg buckle reaction, fired ropes of cum onto my face.  When he was finished, all that slimy stuff started traveling up my face, since it was hanging back off the sling, and into my hair.  Paul was undeterred.

     This degrading treatment of my faculties was soon trumped when, without realizing it until it was happening, I felt Ronnie join James as his rigid and unforgivingly thick cock pushed my o-ring aside and stretched me to a point I had not felt in a long time.  My instinct was to try to scream, but when I did, Paul’s cock gagged me and I came very close to losing my last 2 meals.  “God this is so damn hot,” Paul professed lazily.  By his tone, I could tell he was also very close.  I hadn’t had the opportunity to tell anyone not to blow into my mouth.  I wouldn’t get that opportunity either since speaking was out of the question with Paul’s continued attempts to fit his cock head into my throat.  

     I wished so much that I had my hands.  I wanted so much to spread my ass cheeks so Ronnie and James could see my enthusiasm for what they were doing to me, which felt miraculous.  Soon, though, once they got their rhythm, both of them started burying themselves so deep, my body started to feel them pushing against my g-spot.  It must have been James.  He was deep enough that, even side by side with Ronnie, his cock edged out his partner’s by over an inch and when he thrusted, it was his cock that I felt the sensation with before he pulled back.  Both continued as Paul began to bellow his orgasmic warning, “I’m gonna blow in this faggot’s mouth.”  The names I was called this night made me feel so low, yet oddly energized.  After he said this line, he pushed his cock as far into my mouth as he could and shot torrents of cock slime down my throat.  Not a drop saw the light and, proudly, I didn’t spill a drop from my forcibly opened mouth.  (As a side note, this was the only time I ever swallowed a load. Still not my thing.)

     Ronnie stopped his pounding assault of my backside as James, ever the aggressor, was given leave to probe as deeply into my sex as he saw fit, once he was unfettered by the need to stay in sync with Ronnie.  It didn’t take but 30 seconds and 20-30 deep and serpentining thrusts for his cock to hit pay dirt, causing my body to electrify like a bolt of lightening shot through me from top to bottom which was the catalyst for a long and satisfying orgasm, sending a firework display of long white ribbons flying from my cock and into the air.  I writhed and rolled my eyes, practically losing consciousness momentarily as James disregarded me and continued to bash into me with his cock.

     Ronnie, once my body returned from the trip it took, rejoined James.  Ernie and Paul were at the mini bar grabbing a drink, watching the whole scene.  I just lay there, staring somewhere in the middle distance, my mind completely wrapped in the orgasm I just had; a powerful, dreamlike time warp of a sensation.

     With my mouth free from cock and cum and my ass still being fed cock at a furious rate, I requested to have my hands back.  Ronnie indulged as Paul came to unshackle me.  Though free, my arms just dangled by my side.  I wanted to feel what James did to me more and more, but I was also depleted.  I needed a break and hoped that the men occupying my ass would fill me soon so I could regather my strength.  I knew round two was eminent.

    “You wanna go at the same time?  Fill this whore hole to the brim?” James inquired.

     “I’m ready, big boy!”  Ronnie and James both went from looking at each other, side by side, affirming their intent at once, to turning their heads downward to witness their conjoined monster cocks spill themselves inside my hungry hole.

     Moments later, as if they had done this so many times prior, I felt them both shoot over and over again, pushing and pushing their slimy milk deeper into me.  They had my ass so airtight, when they were cumming, the walls of my hole felt both cocks throbbing with all the fluid rapidly exiting their balls.  It was quite a scene and got even hotter when Ronnie asked Ernie to pass him the butt plug on the wall.  Once both men slithered from my now wide and deep opening, Ronnie plunged this toy, which was about 3 inches in diameter, deeply and quickly in me so as not to spill a drop of what they deposited.  I barely felt it.

    Fifteen minutes passed.  Once I was able to stand, James and Ronnie each took a hand and lifted me from the sling and the three of us joined Paul and Ernie at the bar.  Nothing about any of our body language or our conversational tone gave off the impression that this was the end.

     I was half in discussion with the group and half wondering what was coming next.  It was funny to me how, at the bar, only moments after I was the centerpiece of a high octane gangbang, the span of which I was being treated like trash, these four, now, gentlemen treat me as an equal.  

     I wasn’t ready, at all, for Ronnie’s first surprise, bringing in his pals to abuse me the way they did.  And though I was psyching myself up for another round, preparing myself for whatever insanity Ronnie and his friends could conjure up, I had a feeling in the pit of my stomach that my imagination was no match for the depths of depravity these bastards may have in store for me quite soon.  It wasn’t long before things got started, and they started at the mini bar.

    I was drinking Cosmopolitans made by Ronnie that were surprisingly outstanding.  I was feeling the right kind of dizzy for the current context.  Conversation was flowing.  Hands were groping from time to time.  All in all, a welcome sabbatical from the activities endured only minutes prior.

     In all candor, my ass was killing me.  I felt like what I perceive a woman might feel like 2 weeks after giving birth, but if she gave birth from her ass.  I felt like I was slowly regaining my stature.  I leaned less to support my entire weight, since when I first approached the bar, I did so very gingerly, practically tiptoeing my broken body over where the crowd that broke me was standing.

     Our conversation began with how we felt that things went during our first session, which, though I was practically stretched to the point of not being able to walk, I was the first to proclaim satisfaction with my part in the group.  Others chimed in with what they enjoyed most about the 3 hour romp.  Paul enjoyed watching James being unpredictable.  

     Ronnie was pleased that he got to break me in before the others had a go at me.  “I swear to you, scout’s honor,” he gave an animated and hilarious line that cracked up the whole room, “when he first got here, he was as tight as a drum!”  Then he inquired of me, “Have you ever been in a group that treated you like we did?”

     I proudly replied, “Oh yes!  Long story short.  I was approached at a club in NYC by a black guy who talked me into joining him and his two buddies at an apartment near the club.  Once we arrived at the loft, what proceeded was quite similar, maybe even a bit more challenging, to the wild ride we just had here.”

    All of us were stark naked and I was heating up staring at all the steaming piles of cock which were flopping around like big fat rubber bands, loaded with potential.  About 30 minutes went by with the 5 of us drinking heavily.  It was going down like water for me.  Ronnie’s cosmo-making skills were just the perfect compliment to those honest moments after sex.  We were all feeling secure and warm.

     The first person to make a move back to where we were an hour ago was, of course, James, who was oddly missing the entire time we gaily chatted away, laughing and beaming about how much fun we had.  He was elsewhere doing God only knows what, but soon, I’d find out.

    As soon as he reentered, James posted up behind me nonchalantly and continued where he left off earlier when I began using his fingers on me.  Standing at the bar, I felt his thin, spindly fingers edge their way to the crack of my ass, then part my ass cheeks with his thumb and middle finger, and finally, use his middle finger to breach me.  

    “Hey boys,” I announced, “James is getting all touchy feely here.  And I have to admit, it doesn’t bother me at all.”  

    James halted my playful tone pretty fast when he swiftly pushed me into a spot where I was bent over the minibar with my ass hanging off the end of a bar stool.  I was in sitting position, quite prone to James’ whimsical sexual nature.  Paul, Ronnie, and Ernie all looked on as if to follow James’ lead.  James began adding fingers to his middle one.  He spread my ass apart and spit a huge gob of saliva in me, then began shaping his fingers into a cone for insertion.  

    “You ever taken a fist all the way in, boy?”

    “Not yet, but I’ve tried more times than I can count.  I get anxious at the knuckles.  They really hurt because they’re so pointy and hard!  Why?  You think you’re going to be the first?”

     “Do I think?  No.”  That devious smile reappeared on James’ infernal lips.  “What I know is that your ass IS going to swallow at least one of my fists tonight, and once that happens, I know I’m going to get it into my head that since my hand is inside, why not see just how deep the slut hole goes?  Then I’m going to push.”  As he said the word ‘push’, he began thrusting his cone-shaped hand against the slightly dilated entrance of my fuck hole.  His hand was expanding me to levels I hadn’t felt yet this whole night.  I attempted to send a signal to slow his entry with my hand, but as I did, from behind the bar, Ronnie snatched up both my arms and pulled them in his direction.  And now, as sudden as they appeared earlier, I was now, and once again, unable to stop James or even move or squirm in protest.

    Ronnie stared in my eyes from the other side of the bar, “Just try and relax.  I have a feeling that once the hard part passes and your ass swallows his whole hand to the wrist, you are going to really enjoy this.”  With that, he freed my arms.  I decided to trust Ronnie.  NOT JAMES. Just Ronnie.  He had a calming way of reassuring me that my safety was paramount.

     Harder he pushed and with every measure of his hand that entered, I could make out the fine details of the skin around his hand as my ass flesh wound tighter and tighter around his assaulting appendage.

    When I am alone and using a larger than normal toy or vegetable on my ass, there’s a point where the object becomes too thick and my hole begins to let me know I’m about to go too far.  Right about now, this was the sign I was being given.  But as if he read my thoughts and predetermined that I was about to squiggle away from the situation, James asked Ernie, “Hey man, grab that bottle.”  The bottle was a half full 24 ounce container of some water based lube that smelled like coconuts and contained a numbing agent.  He proceeded to remove his cone-shaped hand from my anus, cup it open like a bowl, and squeeze the bottle so hard, it made one of those fart sounds you hear squeezable ketchup and mustard bottles make, creating a deep, transparent pool of lubricant for him to use to try to up my pain threshold.

     Using his hand as sort of a putty knife, he maneuvered himself so he could take his lube-filled hand and pack the contents of it up my ass by just pressing the cupped hand against my hole and flattening it.  The lube was cold and I could feel it shoot into me.  That felt great!  Once his hand was no longer burdened, he began furiously fingering me to rub the walls of my tunnel in an effort to allow the numbing agent to properly anesthetize the area around and inside where James would soon continue to work his 10 inch cock into me.

     After a few moments of James really using those fingers up my very occupied and becoming increasingly weary pucker, he changed gears back to his goal of getting the knuckles on his hand past my o-ring.  Starting almost where he left off, he took his hand, shaped it into the cone, and quickly pushed into me with it.  This time, though, I relaxed, I breathed, and I let go of any misgivings I had about James and his somewhat untrustworthy nature.  I had to!  If I didn’t try to see him as someone I could count on not to hurt me, this process was going to take way longer.  You see, James WAS going to fist me tonight, and the quickest way from point A (James determination to fist fuck me) to point B (James hand disappearing into my stretched out butthole) is a straight line.  Trust, I felt, would be on the path we wanted to travel,

     Once I relaxed, James’ hand was inching slowly into my hole.  I could feel myself getting wider and wider, my hole stretching tighter as his knuckles approached.  “Oh, I don’t know what you are doing,” James observed, as he began to ease his hand in further, “but keep doing it!”

     My head rested on the bar with my ass still jutting out from the bar stool.  James announced that he was very close and I could feel the bumps on the back of his hand, his knuckles, arrive at my doorstep.  With deep breaths, I completely released any muscle use from my lower body, absolutely removing all tension that could slow the process.  All at once, the four knuckles breached my hole, expanding it to a point that cause me to breathe in so deeply, I felt like I almost inhaled and swallowed my tongue.  James, who really got joy out of making a climactic feeling last, stopped a few moments to let the widest part of his hand turn my opening into a rubber band.  He pumped in and out, in and out.  Pre cum dripped from my cock very quickly.  With each time he pushed the knuckles in me, my cock emitted a long strand of clear pre cum onto the bar stool.

     Ernie and Paul, who observed from a few feet away at the bar, began stroking each other’s hard dongs and stood up, making their way to have a closer look.

     James finally completed the task.  It was just a matter of letting his arm go limp so my anal cavity could vacuum up the rest of his hand.  And once he saw his wrist arrive at my opening, that was his cue to begin fist fucking me very hard!  A bit more speedily, he began reversing his forward motion so my hole also began to tighten as his knuckles, once again, approached the doorway, but from inside.  As his knuckles breached and began releasing from my ass’s grip, he pushed back in harder this time!  And every push into me with his fist would also include more of his arm being inserted, as well.  This pattern continued for close to 15 thrusts and with the tapered attack he used, by the time he hit 15, my hungry hole swallowed up to the mid-point of his forearm.  For perspective, up James’ right arm was a tattoo from wrist to elbow.  It was, oddly enough, a tattoo of Popeye.  You know, the Sailor Man?  I told you this guy was the personality of the group.  Well, my cock starved cum receptacle devoured Popeye’s lower body to his mid-belly by the time James’ manners kicked in and he realized he was hogging up all the ass.  So he slowly removed his arm and, to my glowing pride, Popeye was as clean as Sweet Pea’s Fanny.

     James grasped a fist full of my hair and lifted my head off the bar, then he made me lick his arm clean.  The taste was devine.  The only thing better is licking my ass off a guy’s cock.  But my ass has a flavor that compliments all body parts, I suppose.

    I wasn’t aware how long his arm was holding me open for, but when I finally stood, my legs buckled and I fell with a crash to the floor.  The fisting took it all out of me, but by the looks on their faces, they still saw me as fuckable.  Ernie and Ronnie took an arm and lifted, receiving a small modicum of assistance from me.  I was a wet noodle, a useless pustule.  My arms were rubber, my legs were two Slinkys.  I was done offering myself freely to these guys.  But they didn’t need me for that.  Since I was sapped and out of commission, physically, that just meant I needed to be held in place.  To them, my holes were still wet, so on with the show!  Or at least that was what I expected.

    Already undressed, I was carried to a couch in the room at the base of the steps leading to the second level, and there, I was thrown and left with my thoughts.  I heard the guys’ voices trail off as they ascended the steps.  Shortly thereafter, I rose to my feet and slowly ‘heel toed’ it to where Ronnie kept his big toys and grabbed one of the biggest which, I didn’t know at the time, was actually shaped and marketed as a dog’s cock.  Sometime later that evening, when I found out that this was the hook, I recall thinking, “People are into that?”  But, admittedly, that toy had the best shape to it and now I own one.

     But at the time, I was barely able to walk as I brought this freakish-sized thing with a bulbous base (apparently called a knot) back to the couch where they left me.  On my knees with my ass pointing toward the sky, I stuck this thick piece of silicon up my ass deep, with the end goal of getting that thick and round base to penetrate me.  But, before I could get too far, I heard foot falls as the guys returned, arriving and turning to see me on the couch toy up my ass about half way.  Paul was closest.  He grabbed and pulled it from my ass.

     “Follow us back into the play room.  We’re not done with you, whore, and you clearly are not done with us,” Ronnie said calmly.  As I trailed close behind them, I could hear their discussion.  Comments that pertained to me being unable to walk, yet grabbing a dildo or getting fisted as easily as I had been able to.  These guys sounded like they were both impressed and concerned for me.  Like maybe they should end it.  

    I spoke up from 5 feet behind them, “Hey!  I didn’t come here for sympathy.  So I have a question.  At what point will you guys start getting creative?”  I didn’t mean this.  I was younger and stupid.  I had to save face and pride can sometimes come off as idiocy.

    I entered the play room, once again, to face one filthy and final act of depravity.

     My legs shook from the beating my asshole took at the ‘hand’ of James.  I had toyed around with my ass before, but never did I have the sensations in and around my hollow cock target that I was feeling now.  It was like earthquake aftershocks and how they arrive unexpectedly.  My body would behave voluntarily until a sudden spasm would buckle my lower back or my right leg and I’d lean to the side almost falling, but catching myself just prior to slamming into a wall.  As soon as we arrived in the downstairs bathroom, our trip ended.

    “You need to get into the shower now, you filthy fuck toy,” Ronnie berated me with a look on his face like he meant it.  With their cocks all out in the open, stroking themselves with vigor, pumping away and squeezing precum on their cocks, I entered the shower and went to turn on the water, still naive to what the group’s intent was.  But when my hand made its way to the shower nozzle to turn the water on, I found out their plan.

    “Woah, bitch!  We didn’t say shit about turning on water,”  Paul said as he spit on his hand and smacked his cock hard which made an audible muted thud sound.  His cock just responded by swinging left to right a few times.  I took in an eyeful of his fat member hoping to position myself to take him at least once more and feel his quiet aggressive style as he tears into me. God he was big!

     So my hand recoiled as I awaited the next instruction.  Ronnie commanded me to sit inside the shower on the floor, so I slowly dropped to my knees, then shifted to sitting on my ass with my legs crossed.

    The stall door was wide and swung out of the way of those occupying it, if there were ever a reason to crowd a bathroom, that is.  The door played a crucial role for what was coming next.  Now I had a strong feeling I was about to be urinated on by 4 guys, but didn’t let on that I was on to their plan because it was a great plan and I didn’t want to spoil it by being a dick and spilling the beans before the plan hatched.  

     So I sat as Ronnie, James, Paul, and Ernie pointed their gigantic dongs at my body.  When Ronnie saw how expectant I seemed to be, he inquired, but more accurately, he stated in question form, “You’ve been pissed on before, haven’t you?”

    I was always accused of wearing my heart on my sleeve. With my face undauntedly staring at the cocks about to splash me with a great flood of urine, I suppose I looked too anxious.  “Ummm, yeah, I have!”  And then to bring some authenticity to the situation they had meant to be unique and the cherry on top of a wild sex romp, I added, “But never by 4 guys at the same time!!”  And that was no lie.

    A look of pride eased its way onto Ronnie’s face, a look I translated.  This was an important moment for me as I began to see these four men as they really were in this moment.  I realized that he was, sort of, putting on a concert.  He had a set list and this whole thing was his opus.  For Paul and Ernie, it was a release.  For James, it was an opportunity to show his skills and imagination and he more than succeeded at displaying that along with the fact that, outside of this event, he was, more than likely, an asshole.  For Ronnie, however, it was all staged, we were all actors, and this final act was our last dance before the curtains close.  So I relished it.

    I got up on my hands and knees, closed my eyes tightly as if I was making a wish that I really hoped would come true, pursed my lips shut, and waited.  I never took account on who got the ball rolling, but it was aimed right at my face, so I assumed it was James.  Such a fucking jackass, I thought.  Then a wave hit me on my torso and chest.  Torrents of musty smelling liquid splashed off me and ran in small waterfalls off my nipples.  Much of the filthy piss ran down my back and travelled through the valley of my ass.  I relaxed my body so my hole would open and hopefully drink in some of it.  It was degrading.  Insults were hurled at me.  My cock went from flaccid to power tool in almost no time and the guys, who must have known ahead about this and held it in the entire time, continued bathing my entire body for at least 2-3 minutes.

    Now, smelling of urine and soaking in a tub of filth, most men would call it a day and return to their normal lives.  And most did.  James, however, seeing my current state, couldn’t help it.  He saw the sexual gratification he would receive after finishing inside a piss covered servant and he commanded me to remain in my doggy style pose.  His athleticism, which surprised me, allowed him to place one foot on the bathroom floor with the other way across the tub and resting on a short ledge.  This allowed him to lower his hips down enough to get the tip of his cock to curve its way to my awaiting hole.  There was no reason to think that this act would be difficult for me, so James unleashed what energy he had remaining to ram his cock 10 inches deep into my belly and hate fuck me like I was an ex from a bad break up.  He fishhooked my mouth, spit in my face (which I didn’t like), called me every degrading name I could think of and some I never knew could be degrading.  Some of his more colorful quotes went:

    “We weren’t creative enough for you, bitch?  That’s not how you sounded when I used your body as a hand puppet!”  

    “God damn your hole is as loose as a fucking hoola hoop!” That was one of my favorites.  He became enraged when I chuckled slightly at the humorous line.

    ….And lastly…..also the one that caused me to lose control and shoot my load all over the floor of the tub,

    “When I’m finished flooding that gaping whore hole with my cum, I’m going to piss inside you.  If you let any out before I leave this room, you’re getting the fist again!”  It was when he called my ass a “gaping whore hole” that I shot my ropes all over the basin.  

    His last pump into my ass was his orgasm.  He held himself, the entire shaft, inside me to the balls for a minute or two, to let the cum settle so it wouldn’t fall out.  He followed that up with the remaining urine he saved for just this moment.  My stomach slowly distended.  I felt like I ate three plates of nothing but bread once the last drop was deposited.

    Then, in a selfless act, he materialized an anal plug, which he acquired prior to heading into the bathroom, and stuck it up my ass.  I shook my ass at him in thanks and he smacked the fuck out of it!  I collapsed in the tub as he walked out without a word.

    I was drenched and smiling, but exhausted.  Emotionally, getting treated as I was followed by a gangpissing, for the lack of a better word, took a lot out of me.  It seems to be an unwritten rule that in situations like these, the bottom is offered to recuperate at the host house.  So, I spent 24 hours with Ronnie, offering fond farewells to Ernie, Paul, and yes, even James, all of whom left shortly after the ‘final act’, which was the point that I came to the realization that I never got to suck any of the guys off through Ronnie’s well constructed gloryholes.  Fucking shit!!

    Ronnie and I keep in touch and perhaps one day, I’ll revisit his dungeon and allow his plans to, once again, unfurl.  But not for some time.  It’s unfair, but we are given so little time to live and I still have so much more to experience.

  • Pornobliss

    It was his 25th birthday and David sat in his white briefs and tank, slowly fingering his bulge. His pubies stuck out over the waistband a little bit cuz he was a fuckin big bro and big bros have bush. Lights from the flatscreen flickered on his face as he sat mesmerized. His hand grabbed the massive bulge of his giant boner in his undies, His long tongue darted out of his mouth and sat on his upper lip, making it shiny. He looked like an idiot. A big dumb idiot with a big fat boner.

    On the screen, a fat bubble butt jiggled while a porno god with a giant penis slapped the bubble and made it shake. Giant penis! Giant penis! Giant penis! The bottom boy wiggled his butt and pulled back the cheeks. His puffy butt lips were shiny with spit. The porno boner god top slipped his stupid tongue inside the jiggly cheeks and chewed on the pucker lips getting them all puffy and spitty and shiny.

    “Bu-bble,” said David, moving his hands faster up and down his giant jock boy penis bulging out of his briefs.

    He loved his fucking penis, how hard and big and massive it got when he watched the porno boys butt-fucking bubble with big fat penis. Godpenis. That’s what it was to David. Fucking worship with godboner and bubble butt.

    “Bu-bble butt. Bu-bble butt,” he said like an idiot over and over. “Bo-ner in the bu-bble.”

    He stuck out his tongue again and made dumb noises with his lips and tongue and spit: blblbllblblblblblblblblblbl. He wished there was a pair of giant bubble buttlips on his face right now. He’d go blblblblblblblblbl on the butthole. He fucking loved to tongue and lick and get all wet and sloppy on the puffy butt lips. BUTTLIPS! Fuck!

    Blblblblblbllblblbl on the bubble. Two pink shiny bubbles for him to blblblblblbl on the buttlips. He pulled his briefs below his nuts and watched his giant bro penis go b-b-b-b-bblblblbl-bloing! He pulled his briefs back up then did it again. Boner goes b-b-b-boing!

    He fucking loved watching his boner act like an idiot too. Big dumb dong goes b-b-b-b-b-bblblblblboing! He loved getting stupid with his boner. Stupid David, stupid on penis, watching bubble porn where all the shiny pink porno melons wiggle-jiggle just for him.

    He stuck his tongue out like a bro and licked his lips all porno. A big fat glob of spit on his lips caught the light from the porn like he was sucking that shit into his mouth and eating it fucking whole. For a second, he took in all that bubble penis boner dong muscle titty bouncy butt shiny fuckin PORNOGRAPHY and became it. He was a fucking throbbing porno penis god. Godpenis godpenis godpenis!

    David was a godpenis penisgod! He wanted to sit there like that for days, in perfect fucking pornobliss, fucking pornirvana, stroking his pretty boner, watching all the shiny melons and the muscle tits bounce and the massive porno god boners going b-b-b-boing b-b-b-boing b-b-b-boing, buttfucking bubbles and making the buttlips go all puffy with spit and cum.

    He felt the sperm in his balls start to get all wiggly in his nutsac. Fuck. David had giant fucking jock boy bull balls. Full up with jock boy sperm. And a giant jock boy boner and it took a while for all that cum and sperm to find its way and he edged it for a bit longer until he was a crazy stupid dumb fucking asshole penis bro and then the porno bottom stuck out his wet, red porno tongue, licked his fat puffy porno lips and pooched them out like a big fucking perfect porno bubble butt bottom should. And that did it.

    He sprayed and squirted his thick white bro-sperm all over his belly and his pecs and some got on his face and he licked it up with his snaky tongue. And he put his head back. And he laughed like a dumb idiot. And David wanted more than anything to share this big dumb stupid porno penis perfect bliss with someone who gets it.

  • Bitched by a Black Daddy

    All characters appearing in this story are +18 at the time of any sexual conduct . all names and events are fictional and any resemblance to real life counterparts is purely coincidental.

    I’m new to this so I hope to hear from you. Please tell me what you think in the comments and if you would like to see more of this or other projects.


    It was around 5 a.m. when I woke up to find Demetri dressing up and getting ready to leave for work. Last night’s wild foursome clearly flashed in mind as I gently raised my head to look around. Alex, the older white bottom, was laying on his back sleeping peacefully, his chubby hairy body rising and falling slowly, while his previous black top (now bottom bitch) Carl was sprawled on top of him, his freshly broken in ass on full display and his mouth slightly open, a bit of drool spilling onto his fiancé’s chest. His body had gone an intensive change last night, being forced to orgasm beyond its control, so it was natural he’d be all messy after that.

    I realized I was probably hugging Demetri as I slept, but now that he got up and was fixing himself in front of the mirror, I gently propped myself up. He looked so handsome as he adjusted his suit and tie, his powerful physique visible through the fabric. Once he finished, he turned around and saw that I got up.

    “Morning baby, had a good sleep?” He asked as he leaned in to give me a quick kiss. 

    “Yeah Daddy. Leaving for work?” I asked as I got out of bed and walked with him naked to the main door.

    “Yeah. I need to be in early today. I’ll be back by evening.”

    “What should we do with these two though?” 

    “Let them sleep, they probably have a lot to figure out.” He laughed.

    “You’re so mean.” I said as I laughed along, knowing the couple sleeping upstairs will have to revise their whole relationship after this night. Not only did the arrogant top Carl let his subby bottom fiancé get fucked by another subby bottom, but he himself bottomed out for Demetri like a total whore.

    I said goodbye to Demetri and closed the door behind him, then went back and looked for my sub brother Ian. I found him sleeping in one of the spare rooms, laying on his stomach naked, his caged dick poking backwards from between his legs, and his phone to the side of his head. I giggled as I shook him awake, immediately realizing what had happened yesterday. He probably watched us through the cameras Demetri had installed in the house (for security and for recording our fucking) and passed out frustrated.

    “Oh… you’re here…” He said sluggishly as he opened his eyes.

    “Scooch.” I said as I got in the bed with him. My poor bro probably spent the night frustrated as hell, not being able to join the fun or cum on his own. As I sat in the bed, he lazily moved over and hugged me, plopping his body on top of mine, before looking down and noticing my dick.

    “Hey, Daddy let you top one of them?” He asked.

    “Yes the bott- the big guy.” I corrected myself, realizing they were both bottoms now. “I need your help to put my cage back on.”

    Ian sleepily reassembled my pink cage that I brought with me back on my dick, before returning to my embrace. I caressed his head as I told him all about last night while his eyes gradually lit up from hearing the hot details.

    “Oh wow, that guy is such a natural bitch.” He said talking about Carl.

    “I guess the bigger they are, the harder they fall. I know bitches out once Daddy gets in their insides, but he acted like a man possessed, he even curled up at our feet as we slept.” I replied.

    “Meanwhile I couldn’t even say goodnight to Daddy last night.” Ian pouted. I smiled at how cute he looked and told him Daddy will be back tonight hopefully. He continued pouting until he unlocked his phone and his face became intrigued.

    “Pauly, I think they’re up.” 

    I looked at the screen to see the couple sleeping in Daddy’s room start to move. More precisely, Alex was slowly waking up as he laid Carl to the side, the newly bitched out guy still sleeping peacefully. Immediately, Alex, and us, noticed his tiny dick was hard. He started rubbing it a bit as a flushed look came over his face.

    “Poor boy, he’s probably very pent up with such a bad top.” I commented.

    Minutes later, he gave up on rubbing his dick and his eyes casually crept to his his fiancé, more precisely his ass. Our eyes were glued to the screen as we watched Alex turn over and slowly rub his groin over his partner’s ass, his face contorting with pleasure. He started slowly, but started picking up the pace. Carl was still asleep, but his breathing started getting heavier. Suddenly, Alex, as if trying to snatch the opportunity before something interrupts them, grabbed Carl’s big ass and parted it to reveal his previously virgin hole. Even though he knew it probably wouldn’t go far, Alex stuck his tiny dick inside his fiancé’s ass, a look of pleasure washing over his face, and started slowly hump his previous top. It went in easy, courtesy of Demetri’s load from yesterday being held tightly by the hungry ass.

    We exchanged looks as we observed this update. Carl started to wake up as his partner’s heavy body rocked his own shorter stature. At first, half-asleep, his body rocked along, enjoying the weight of a man pressing on him, but once he woke up ad realized what’s happening, He freaked out.

    “Dude, what the fuck??” His face froze when he saw Alex on top of him, moving in and out.

    “One minute, I’m almost there.” Alex said, his eyes closed and his mind focusing on his impending orgasm.

    “Get off!” Carl yelled weakly, but his body was pushing it itself back on the other guy, the tiny dick clearly not hitting the spot his new Daddy abused yesterday.

    “Calm down, I’ve bottomed enough times for you, let me have a go.” Alex’s bigger body pinned Carl down, the bottom now hanging his head and biting down in humiliation as his ass bounced on his faïence’s pelvis. It wasn’t long, however, before Alex unloaded inside Carl’s ass with a small moan, then rolled around and laid on his back, his eyes closed and face visibly relaxed.

    Carl, on the other hand, kept laying on his stomach, the combined loads finally leaking from his sore asshole and spilling on his caged dick and balls and onto the bed. He gingerly extended his hand backwards and touched his freshly fucked hole, scooping up a bit of the cum from his pucker. He brought the hand back to his face to see the damage, and as if unconsciously, he put his tongue out, licking the cum clean in one swoop.

    “Wow, you really enjoyed being fucked, ha?” Alex asked, looking at him with a surprised expression.

    “Shut up and help me get out of this cage.” Carl bit back, clearly frustrated.

    “Jesus, you really are a testy bottom. You treated me much worse and I never said a word.”

    “I- I’m sorry. Will you please help me?” Carl was clearly at his wit’s end, seemingly freaked out about his dick being locked like a bitch.

    “Even if I wanted to, I don’t know where they keep the keys. Relax and wait for them to get back.” Alex shrugged and tried to go back to sleep while Carl laid to his side, his naked body curled up and sobbing quietly. 

    “Yeesh, that would be painful to watch if it wasn’t so hot.” Ian muttered to me. I slapped his ass playfully as I urged him to get up.

    I picked up a jock strap and put it over my cage, while Ian was wearing his usual black panties. We made a quick breakfast and chatted over the kitchen table (mainly about last night), before moving over to the living room and cuddling on the couch as we watched TV. I was mindlessly toying with Ian’s cage when Alex finally came down.

    “Hey Paul!” He greeted me with a smile, giving a nod to Ian.

    “Hey Alex, yesterday was very fun.” I told him.

    “It was indeed. Is Demetri home?” 

    “No, he left early.” 

    I saw his face drop down a bit, clearly sad he wouldn’t get to mess around with Daddy.

    “Oh well, tell him I say hi and that I enjoyed last night a lot. I have to leave now, got to catch my morning shift.” He waved goodbye as he made his way to the door and left.

    It took half an hour for Carl to finally come down, dragging his feet and trying to act as natural as possible.

    “Hey man.” He said, his voice showing clear signs of embarrassment. He was fully dressed, but we all knew his dick was now locked, bringing down the arrogant man to the levels of bottoms he loved to fuck so much. 

    “Hey Carl, glad to see you’re okay after yesterday. You seemed to hit your orgasm pretty intensely” Ian dug his face into my chest to keep from laughing as the bitch standing in front of us flushed deep red.

    “It w- It was okay.” He said then took a moment before continuing “Hey, I was thinking if you could help me get that off my dick?” He tried not to look at us as he said that.

    “Oh you mean your cage?” I said as he visibly winced when I stated it out loud. “I’m sorry, Daddy has the key to all our cages with him, so you’ll have to wait until he returns.” 

    He looked taken aback by me putting us all on the same level, but managed to continue “And when is that?”

    “He should be home tonight.”

    Carl stood there for a moment, thinking over his options before hanging his head and telling us he’ll come back later tonight. He left hurriedly as we exchanged giggled and jabs.

    “Man, Daddy sure knows how to pick them.” said Ian as we got back to watching TV.

    “What would you think if Daddy made him our new sub brother?” I asked absentmindedly.

    “I’d enjoy having someone lower on the food chain than me, I guess” Ian answered without looking away from the TV.

    The rest of the day passed peacefully. I tried to cheer up the frustrated Ian who wasn’t able to cum since before yesterday to the best of my ability. We took a soak in the hot tub together then cleaned up and laid on the bed naked. I sucked on Ian’s cage for a while as he tried hopelessly to cum. He leaked a lot of precum which I licked up hungrily but never made it to orgasm and had to wait patiently for his Daddy.

    Finally, we heard the door key turn and our heads perked up as we went to greet Demetri. To our surprise, our Daddy walked in… with his new bitch Carl walking closely behind him. 

    Once again, Carl was a bit surprised to see us naked in our cages casually strolling around. We greeted Daddy warmly as he hugged us tightly and gave each of us a kiss, then we all proceeded to sit in the living room. Demetri sat in the big couch and snapped his fingers at us, so Ian and I immediately sat between his legs, took out his dick, and started kissing and worshipping his dick and balls, licking it and slapping it across our faces. Carl was standing there, unsure of how to respond to the submission display in front of him as he uncomfortably adjusted his pants. Daddy would later tell us that Carl would follow him around all day at work like a sad puppy, much to Demetri’s amusement, until he went home.

    “So you want me to unlock your cage?” Demetri asked while resting his head on his arm.

    “Yes. Please man, you can’t actually keep it on!” Carls said, his voice frantic.

    “You see Carl, there’s many ways for me to keep you locked if I wanted to. But I’m not about to force you against your will.” Demetri said as relief washed over Carl’s face.

    “That said” Demetri continued “You acted pretty great as a bottom yesterday, why wouldn’t you want to continue doing what you so obviously love.“

    “Nah man, yesterday was a freak accident. I got pretty drunk and didn’t know where I was.” Carl tried to deny it as best as he could, convincing absolutely no one in the room, even himself.

    “Alright, do as you wish.” Demetri replied without showing much interest as he fished out a key from his pocket. “Present.”

    Hearing the order, Carl obediently lowered his pants and underwear and exposed his caged dick to us. Demetri expertly grabbed him and pulled him closer, much to the man’s embarrassment, and unlocked his cage. 

    “Look here boys, it’s wet. Someone’s been leaking.” Daddy teased.

    Carl muttered out a quick goodbye and apology before storming out of the apartment. I asked Daddy why he let him go like that. 

    “You see Pauly, it will much more satisfying once he realizes he can’t go back to his fake top act. Now that he tasted the pleasure of being my boy, he’ll find it really hard to get hard normally.”

    I nodded as I understood his words. After all, they happened to me, and they happened to Ian, and they happened to God knows how many other boys. It was a shame that Carl rejected Daddy’s gift this hard, but it didn’t mean much since he will accept it sooner or later. Not sparing much more thought on it, I went back to servicing Demetri. That night, Daddy would fuck both of us while sitting on the couch, before making us eat the load out of each other’s asses.

    ……………………………………………………………………………….

    One week later, as the three of us were having out nightly fun as usual, me riding Daddy while wearing a skirt and Ian licking between my wet hole and Daddy’s thrusting dick while he wore a bunny butt plug that carefully nestled between his big perfect ass cheeks, when the doorbell rang. Confused at who might be visiting us as this hour, Daddy sent me to check who.

    I was surprised to see Carl standing in the door way, looking dazed and fidgety.

    “I- I want to talk to Demetri.” He said hesitantly.

    I looked him over. He was clearly having bitch withdrawals, his body unable to function without reaching the heights of pleasure he felt that night. I led him to our room and told Demetri before bringing him in. He stood in front of us, looking a bit scared as he gazed upon the giant muscular black man while the two cute white boys laid on each side in sexy outfits.

    “What do you want?” Daddy cut right to the chase, clearly tired of Carl’s bullshit.

    “I wanted to- to see you again, you know, hang out for a bit.” Carl looked around for the words he wanted to use, but no amount of word play was going to hide his true feelings.

    “As you see, I’m busy, so beat it.” Demetri said curtly. Carl looked shaken by his response, as if expected Daddy to chase after him. Ian and I exchanged laughs. 

    “I want to…” His voice lowered towards the end not letting anyone hear what he said.

    “I can’t hear you. If you have nothing to say, then leave already.” Demetri was growing less patient with the hesitant man. He knew accepting his subby bottom nature was hard but Demetri could care less about an indecisive bitch. Carl looked at Demetri with longing eyes, then took a deep breath.

    “I want to sleep with you again.” He said in a resigned tone.

    “No.” Demetri’s answer was quick, and it hit Carl like a truck.

    “Wha- Why?? I thought you wanted me.” Carl’s voice was breaking, the surprise exposing his bottom’s clingy side, the side that made him attached to the man that seeded him.

    “Sleeping together means we’re equal. We’re not. I did you a favour by turning you out that night. Furthermore, aren’t you engaged?”

    “I-” Carl was at a loss for words. He felt cornered, but more than that, he felt horny, horny beyond anything he felt before. He got a sip from the forbidden cup and now wants more or else his thirst will never be quenched. 

    “We broke up…” He said with a sad tone that almost made us feel sorry for him. Almost. The situation was actually pretty funny to think about. A guy gets bitched out so hard he stops being able to get hard enough to fuck his fiancé who in turn doesn’t have the makings of a top. Honestly, I thought, good for Alex. Hopefully he’ll find a proper top this time.

    Daddy looked Carl up and down then smiled. “If you want me to do it again, you need to act the part.” 

    Everything in his body was screaming against going through with this humiliation ritual, but the end of the day, a bitch’s brain is in her pussy.

    “I want you to fuck me.” He hung his head low.

    Daddy finally smiled. “Alright, strip.” 

    Carl was obviously overwhelmed. Still, he slowly undressed, taking each piece off at a time as if trying to delay the inevitable, only to come off as if he’s performing a striptease for us. Once he was fully naked, he stood there unsure of what to do next, his 5 inch dick hanging in the air hard at the hotness of the scene.

    “Good boy.” The words from Demetri almost made Carl jolt. “But, we obviously can’t have that” Said Daddy, pointing at Carl’s hardness and looking me and Ian.

    Immediately, we got up and got to work, me pinching his dick so it shrivels up while Ian got him a pink cage like us. If you couldn’t tell by now, Daddy liked his boys in pink. Carl looked close to tears as we worked on his dick, but didn’t object. It was good that he was finally accepting his role.

    “Stand aside boys, let him come to me.” Order Demetri and we followed. Demetri was sitting in the middle of the bed with his back leaning against the wall. Carl looked at him with a confused look on how he should proceed. 

    “Crawl.” Demetri’s orders were short and precise, a part of his sexual power was his ability to pinpoint the best action for each of us to take. Carl slowly got down to his knees, then inched closer and closer to the bed before getting on it. He was probably sweating buckets, his bitch routine being amateurish as hell and his movements awkward and shy. But that was precisely what Daddy loved. The thrill of a bitch diving into his natural position for the first time made all the trouble worth it.

    Carl finally got to his new owner on all fours. He looked up at him, unsure, like a baby deer taking its first steps. Daddy grabbed his face with his strong hand and kissed deeply, letting him ease a bit of his nerves. Carl, tasting the familiar tongue, relaxed into the kiss, putting his hands on Demetri’s chest. They went on for a couple of minutes before Demetri pulled away and held Carl’s head in place as he gazed into his scared eyes. 

    “Tell me what you want again.” Demetri told him.

    “I- I want you to fuck me Daddy…” Carl said. He clearly put more strength into his words this time. Demetri smiled at him.

    “Once more, with more confidence” He encouraged the shy slut.

    “I– I– I WANT DADDY TO FUCK ME” Carl closed his eyes and yelled. Ian and I were besides ourselves with laughter, knowing any proper boy would be happy to be in his position, but a look from Daddy made us shut each other up promptly.

    “Carl here is being a very good boy, I say that warrants a special reward.” Daddy told us as he pointed at his bed side drawer. We quickly got the memo and went to get the keys to our cags. We never got to be free like this, and I was honestly afraid I won’t be able to cum like last time, but we trusted Daddy and removed our cages.

    In the meantime, Demetri guided Carl by his head to his hairy chest. Carl, seeing the big dark nipple, instinctively started nursing on it like a new born animal. It was definitely a sigh to see. He looked peaceful and happy sucking on Daddy’s chest with his eyes closed as Ian and I kneeled on the bed next to them.

    Demetri gently unlatched Carl from his nipples and turned him around, laying him on his back with his head towards his dick, so that he can suck it if he bent his head backwards. Ian got on top of him with is back to Daddy and raised Carl’s legs and spread them so that his rosebud became visible through his thick big ass. It looked just as tight and inviting as the day Daddy made him his boy. I got down and sniffed his hole. It smelled clean, which meant he had kept it prepped hoping this situation would happen. I smiled and started kissing around his hole, which made him move around like crazy, the denial of my tongue on his hole making him suffer while Ian moved back and forth, rubbing his newly free tiny dick on Carl’s abdomen, savouring the rare sensations. Once I felt that Carl was teased enough, I finally dug into his hole, making our with inner walls and painting his ass with spit while he yelped and squirmed.

    While I was prepping Carl, Daddy kept his eyes on his as he put his massive dick on Carl’s face. The poor bitch seemed to be getting high of Daddy’s manly scent, taking in his musk in deep breaths as the giant tool pressed on his face. Demetri, finding it amusing, started slapping Carl’s face with his dick. Carl barely resisted, his face moving left and right wit the dick slaps as slight groans escaped him, his noise gradually increasing from the three people working on him.

    When he had his fill, Daddy took his dick and slowly inserted it into Carl’s mouth. Carl struggled at first, needing quick brakes to catch his breath, but soon enough, true to his bitch nature, he started taking Daddy’s nine inches like a champ as the balls slammed on his eyes from his upside down position which only served to intoxicate him more. Daddy took his time, thoroughly fucking the new boy’s throat, making sure his dick gets imprinted on it. Carl’s face was now a mess of spit and tears as he opened as wide as he can, finally receiving the dick that turned him into a bitch.

    10 ball-slapping minutes later, Demetri finally held Carl’s face in place. “Don’t you dare spill a single drop.” He ordered as he the powerful dick pulsated and shot load after load down into the boy’s belly. Luckily, he didn’t even need to order Carl as the desperate boy swallowed like his life depended on it, savouring the slightly salty and potent cum. Once Daddy finished, he unlodged his dick from Carl’s throat, and Carl, coughing and taking deep breaths, muttered a heartfelt thank you as Daddy’s cum rested in his belly, getting absorbed and making the bitch high.

    Now that he was free, Carl once again positioned himself on all fours with his ass to Daddy. Ian and I exchanged looks, as this dumb horny bitch thought he could lead with his ass. On que, Demetri’s big powerful hand came down on Carl’s ass, making him jump in bed yelling from pain as he looked around confused.

    “Carl sweetie, you don’t dictate what Daddy does, you wait for him to order you.” I told him, feeling sorry for him.

    Carl looked over to see Demetri looking at him with a muted expression. “Can you.. can you please fuck me Daddy.” He asked shyly, rubbing his ass on the bed, which was honestly very cute if I say so myself. He was finally learning.

    Daddy shook his head. “That doesn’t sound sincere enough.” He said. Carl started getting scared he won’t get bred tonight, so he quickly pleaded.

    “Please, what can I do to prove it for you Daddy!”

    Daddy stayed silent for a minute before smiling and grabbing his phone. 

    “I’ll need to record it, to guarantee your consent of course.” Carl’s face grew pale.

    “No Daddy, I can’t. If it got out, my life would be ruined!!” He pleaded again.

    “Again with the dumb bitch routines. You know, it’s annoying but also what makes you bottoms in denial so endearing.” Daddy shook his head. “How do you expect me to fuck you if you don’t trust me with your body? Well, you’re free to do whatever you want I guess.” He said, fully embracing the theatricals as if putting on a show for me and Ian who were laughing our asses off silently in the back.

    Carl didn’t seem to understand what was happening, but his dumb bitch brain was now screaming at him to not let his chance at getting fucked go. “Okay Okay I’ll do it, but no face.” He helplessly tried to bargain.

    “Then get dressed and leave.” Daddy’s response was clear. 

    Carl almost cried as he apologized and asked Daddy to film him. Demetri opened the camera and started recording.

    “Alright, state your name, your age, and where you live and work.” Daddy asked from behind the phone as Carl kneeled in front of him on the bed with his arms behind his back.

    “Carl Bowman, 26, I live in XXX and work in YYY” He said, looking directly at the camera with sad eyes and a face covered with bodily fluids, the remnants of cum dribbling down his mouth.

    “Good boy. Assume face down position.” Daddy ordered and Carl quickly turned around and placed his head down as he raised his jiggly ass to the camera. “Alright boys, go bend next to him.”

    Ian and I sat on either side of Carl, eager to be making another movie with Daddy as we assumed the same position and joined our asses by Carl’s side. Carl’s head turned between us as we grinned at him and started making out with him, alternating his mouth between us while the other licked his face clean, trying to taste a bit of Daddy’s semen at least. Carl was swooning from our warm treatment, moaning weakly into our mouths while we toyed with him

    “Now shake those asses for me boys.” Daddy was getting into it, and all three of us started shaking our bubble butts, ass cheeks bouncing of each others while Daddy interjected with a slap here and there, sometimes grabbing us by our dicks to show them off to the camera.

    “Now, Ian and Paul, sandwich Carl between you so I can fuck him.” Demetri said and Carl noticeably beamed with joy. I wanted to tease him but couldn’t find it me. He seemed to be close to passing out now that he almost got his fix of Daddy’s addicting cum.

    I laid on my back and got Carl to lay on me face to face while Ian got on his back. Now our asses were piled on top of each other waiting for Daddy to pick and choose, but the choice was already pre determined. Quickly and swiftly, Demetri started working his meat into Carl’s puckered up ass that was lubed with my saliva. He slowly buried his dick in Carl, as the latter started moaning loudly, like an experienced porn star.

    Carl was obviously feeling the heat, his insides expanding against the fuck stick making its way inside. At first, when the head popped through the entrance, Carl started crying saying he’d about to cum, his toes curled up, his body went rigid, and I could feel his balls and caged dick tighten between us. Daddy simply reached around and simply flicked his cage.

    “Down boy.” He said as Carl howled with pain, his poor dick being overloaded. He wouldve cum right there had Daddy not made sure for the flick to hurt.

    Soon enough, Daddy resumed his onslaught when Carl calmed down, being hugged tightly by both of Ian and me. The fullness in him was warm, and just like his first time, the heat was washing his insides with pleasure. He found himself grinding back on his Daddy’s groin, trying to help open up his hole. Daddy’s teaching spanks helped ease the process, and soon enough, his dick was buried to the hilt.

    “Alright Carl, Daddy will take care of you for being a good boy.” Daddy said encouragingly, as Carl was nearing the end of his patience. 

    “Please Daddy, fuck me, Please make me your bitch, I want to feel you inside me, I feel so empty, please fill me up.” Carl was freaking out, having another bitch fit like when he first came here.

    Demetri took a deep breath then start thrusting. He pounded Carl’s pussy hard and fast, hitting his spot with his big dick over and over. If Carl was feeling the heat previously, he was now being cooked alive. The hits to his inner spot made him start yelling at the top of his lungs. His breathing became much harder as he took deep breaths to fuel his loud yelling. He mostly talked non sense as Daddy’s dick short circuited his brain, but he’d occasionally emit coherent sentences like begging to be fucked, proclaiming to be Daddy’s bitch forever, and other humiliating sentences that were all recorded. Daddy never let down, pounding into him with vigour and smacking his ass frequently to keep him on his toes. And when he slapping some sense into Carl, he was popping me and Ian’s assholes with his fingers as we started moaning alongside the new bitch. 

    All the stimulation proved too much to handle, and Carl’s eyes rolled back into his head. We all looked as his caged dick exploded, spraying spurt after spurt of cum hands free. Daddy, however, didn’t slow down. He bitched this guy and he was going to have his fun. He turned Carl around on his back and started fucking him faster in missionary while making out deep into his tongue as Carl thrashed around, every part of his body on fire after Daddy made him cum hands free for the second time. I got down between them and started licking at Carl’s hole and Daddy’s dick thrusting in and out of it while Ian rode Carl’s face after Daddy let go of it, forcing the guy to swallow his tiny dick hole, an easy feat compared to swallowing his Daddy. Carl was in such a frenzy he started sucking Ian’s dick like a madman, sometimes hurting Ian which prompted the small white guy to smack the side of his head lightly.

    “Focus, bitch.” He said. Ian was right. Not being the lowest on the food chain was definitely fun.

    This would continue until Daddy finally pulled Carl into him and held him in a death grip as he finally seeded his new pussy, planting his babies deep inside of Carl. He stayed there, both of them frozen in ecstasy until Daddy’s dick started slipping out. Ian and I rushed to lick at the feast but Daddy stopped us. He ordered Carl to lay on his back and told us to jerk off on his face. We were hesitant of our ability to cum without Daddy, but he quickly inserted his fingers into us, hooking them so that they hit our spots well enough, and we, close to climax already, took no time letting out our weak loads on Carl’s face. Our loads were indeed very weak because of how much we got used to being in cages and coming from Daddy’s dick hands free, that we found it hard to cum without him turning our insides around, but we did anyways, even if they were sad orgasms. 

    Carl, now covered in 3 loads, 4 if you include his own, was made to kneel in front of Daddy as Demetri whipped out the phone again and told him to smile. Carl smiled in a blissful haze and even went further.

    “Thank you so much Daddy, for giving me a pussy and fucking me.” He said, mind totally gone. Daddy smiled and patted his cheek before slapping him lightly as a final tease, but even he didn’t expect what happened next.

    Carl was looking at us with a dazed look as his caged dick started spurting out ANOTHER load without so much as touching himself or getting fucked. He was so far gone down the bottom hole he came from the simple acknowledgment from his top man.

    “Wow, I strive to be this bitchy for you Daddy, holy shit.” Ian commented, totally taken aback.

    Once his caged dick started spilling cum, Carl collapsed and on the bed, passing out from how wild his bitch night was. Daddy stopped recording then and got up. He told us to present ourselves so he can lock us back up.

    “Hope you enjoyed this night cause I’m not sure it’ll happen again anytime soon.” He said jokingly, kissing our soft limp dicks gently before locking the metal on them.

    “You guys sleep it off, I have some work to do.” He said, leaving the room in his manly glory while our longing eyes followed him. Cuddling close to Carl’s limp body, the three of us bottoms drifted off, sleeping in the various fluids that have coated these bed sheets, our bodies sticky from cum and sweat.

    When I woke up the next day, Ian was still asleep but Carl was gone. When I went out of the bedroom, I came across Daddy. I gave him a morning kiss and asked him about Carl. 

    “I sent him to work today. Now that he’s my bitch boy, he’ll have to obey me in and out of the bedroom, which he seemed to love anyways.” 

    “So is he gonna join us Daddy?” I asked innocently.

    “Not sure baby, but he needs to sort out his mess first before I decide to have him.” He said without much care. Carl was just another bitch in his long list of bottoms. The whole thing made me happy that Daddy has kept me by his side for this long, so I hugged him hard and buried my face in his chest as he asked me what was wrong with me, smiling and rubbing my head. Such was our life as Daddy’s boys, a life I’m happy to live everyday.

  • Worship & Control: Muscle on Display

    This is my first full length story, so I hope you enjoy it! Please email me ([email protected]) any feedback. Enjoy!

    All characters are entirely fictional besides Byron, whom has given me his express permission to include later in the book. Please follow him on Instagram (@byronrosekelly)!


    The Warning

    The afternoon sun blazed overhead, turning the pavement into a sheet of shimmering heat that distorted the air in undulating waves. The temperature had climbed steadily throughout the day, transforming the town into a sweltering cauldron that seemed to amplify every sensation, every movement, every breath.

    Harry Schett walked slowly, deliberately, towards his dad’s sportswear shop, each step a controlled display of the extraordinary physicality that defined his existence. He moved with the confident grace of someone who knew, without question, that every single person he passed was studying him with varying degrees of fascination and desire. The knowledge didn’t just please him—it fueled him, each admiring glance feeding something primal within his being.

    And why wouldn’t they look?

    He wasn’t wearing much.

    A pair of bright red chino shorts cut with deliberate provocation hugged his massive thighs like they’d been custom-tailored to his extraordinary proportions. The low-rise waistband sat well below his carved obliques, exposing deep muscle channels that disappeared tantalizingly beneath the fabric. With each stride, the hem rode up dangerously high, revealing more of the colossal quadriceps that seemed to belong to a different species of human altogether. The material strained audibly against his development, the seams visibly stressed along the outer sweep of his thighs where months of dedicated training had created dimensions no clothing manufacturer had anticipated.

    Above the waistband, a thick strip of neon-orange boxer briefs announced itself with unmistakable boldness, the elastic band straining even with the small amount of fabric visible. Harry had purposely sized down, selecting underwear that would make its presence known, that would draw eyes to the contrast between vibrant color and golden skin. Nothing about his presentation was accidental—each element calculated for maximum visual impact.

    People stared.

    Good.

    The warm weather was always a convenient excuse to wear as little as possible, but Harry never needed justification. His body was a masterpiece—a testament to genetics, dedication, and thousands of hours of painstaking effort. It deserved to be seen, to be appreciated, to be desired. Hiding it would be like draping a tarp over Michelangelo’s David.

    As he strolled past The Bean & Brew, a familiar feeling washed over him—the weight of being watched. It settled across his skin like a physical caress, intensifying with each step. Harry didn’t even have to turn his head to confirm it; he could feel the gaze like heat against his skin, could sense the attention focused on the dramatic sweep of his back, the impossible roundness of his glutes that strained against the red fabric with each measured stride.

    Then—a shift in the atmosphere.

    A man approached from the opposite direction—early fifties, average build, neatly dressed in business casual that suggested professional success without ostentation. Harry clocked him immediately, his awareness of others’ attention too finely tuned to miss the intensity of this stranger’s focus. The way the man’s eyes dragged up and down, scanning every inch of Harry’s perfect physique with the mesmerized fascination of someone witnessing a natural wonder for the first time.

    Then came the moment of realization—the stranger knew he’d been caught staring. A flicker of embarrassment crossed his features, the hint of a shy smile appearing as social convention battled with fascination. But despite his apparent discomfort at being discovered, he couldn’t stop looking. Couldn’t tear his gaze away from the way Harry’s pecs bounced effortlessly with each step, the massive slabs of muscle shifting with hypnotic rhythm beneath skin that seemed polished to perfection. The deep-cut abs rippled in the sunlight, creating a landscape of shadows and highlights that no fitness magazine could capture.

    Harry smirked, recognizing the effect he was having.

    He slowed down, giving the stranger more time to appreciate what he was seeing. With calculated precision, Harry rolled his shoulders just enough to send his pecs into a deep, deliberate bounce, the individual muscle fibers visibly contracting beneath golden skin. The display was deliberate, controlled, a demonstration of mastery over his extraordinary development.

    The stranger’s eyes widened in response, lips parting slightly as his hand twitched, shifting instinctively towards the space between his thighs before social awareness stopped the movement. The reaction was visceral, uncontrollable, biological rather than conscious.

    Harry mirrored the action with subtle mockery, letting the stranger know he’d noticed everything, that nothing escaped his attention.

    The man froze in place, pulse visibly racing at his throat, his entire body betraying just how much he wanted to worship the physical masterpiece in front of him. His breathing had quickened, his posture unconsciously shifting to make himself smaller in Harry’s overwhelming presence.

    As they passed each other, Harry felt it—the stranger’s hand reaching out, grazing over the steel curve of his bicep in a touch that might have been dismissed as accidental if not for the deliberate pressure, the lingering contact that expressed both appreciation and desire.

    Harry stopped.

    The stranger stopped too, caught in the moment of his own daring.

    Slowly, Harry turned to face him, tilting his head slightly, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. His pecs rose and fell with steady breathing, each inhalation making the extraordinary muscle mass expand to even more impossible dimensions.

    “Go on, mate,” Harry murmured, voice thick with amusement and something darker, more primal. The invitation was clear, a permission granted that few would have the courage to accept.

    But the stranger didn’t hesitate.

    His hands moved immediately, as if they’d been waiting for this opportunity, perhaps for years. He traced over Harry’s chest with reverent fingers, pressing into the solid wall of pectoral muscle, exploring the unreal density, squeezing, worshipping. The contact made the muscles flex involuntarily beneath his touch, hardening further, revealing striations and separations that ordinary physiques simply didn’t possess.

    Then—down.

    The stranger’s hands moved lower with growing confidence, gripping the impossibly round, dense mass of Harry’s glutes, fingers digging into the deep grooves of muscle, testing just how much power sat beneath the tight red chinos. The fabric stretched further under the pressure, revealing even more of the extraordinary development it struggled to contain.

    Harry stood totally still, letting it happen. Letting himself be used, touched, appreciated in public without reservation or shame. His expression remained one of amused satisfaction, completely comfortable with being handled like an exhibit rather than a person.

    A few murmurs rose from The Bean & Brew, the patrons inside noticing the unusual scene unfolding on the pavement outside. People stared openly now, some with shock, others with undisguised interest, a few with envious longing.

    Harry’s gaze lifted, locking eyes with several of the men inside who watched with particular intensity. Some smirked knowingly, some looked on in awe, one bit his lip in unconscious desire.

    Harry nodded at them. A silent acknowledgment. An understanding without words.

    And then—everything changed.

    A sharp sound cut through the charged atmosphere.

    Heavy boots on pavement. A door slamming upstairs. A rush of movement that carried unmistakable authority.

    Harry barely had time to react before—

    “OI.”

    A deep, authoritative voice, cutting through the thick tension in the air with the efficiency of a blade.

    Troy.

    Descending from his flat above The Bean & Brew with purposeful strides, still in his police uniform, the dark navy fabric clinging to his powerful frame like a second skin. His tree-trunk thighs strained against his black tactical trousers with every aggressive step forward, the material creaking in protest. Though not built to the extraordinary proportions of Harry, Troy carried himself with the unmistakable presence of someone used to commanding respect, his body honed for function rather than display.

    The stranger saw him—saw the uniform—and scurried away without a word, disappearing around the corner with remarkable speed for someone his age.

    Harry watched him go, still pumped from the attention, his pecs lifting with every slow breath, the rush of being admired still coursing through his system like a drug.

    But Troy wasn’t done.

    “You little shit,” Troy growled, stopping inches from Harry, using his slightly superior height in an attempt to intimidate that might have worked on someone less physically extraordinary.

    Harry just grinned, crossing his huge arms across his chest, the movement causing his pecs to swell even larger, bulging against each other as they fought for space. It was a display of physical dominance that made Troy’s substantial development seem almost ordinary by comparison.

    Troy’s eyes flicked downward, just for a second, before snapping back up, his expression darkening further. The momentary glance betrayed him—even in his anger, he couldn’t help but acknowledge the physical magnificence before him.

    “I should arrest you for that,” Troy spat, jaw tightening with barely contained rage. “Indecent exposure. Lewd conduct.”

    Harry just raised an eyebrow, supremely unconcerned by the threat. “Didn’t hear you complaining about that bloke,” he said smoothly, his voice carrying just enough challenge to intensify the confrontation.

    Troy’s jaw tightened further, a muscle in his cheek visibly twitching with restraint.

    Harry rolled his shoulders again, making his pecs dance beneath his skin in a deliberate provocation. The display was calculated to remind Troy exactly who held the power in this interaction, regardless of who wore the uniform.

    “Go on then,” he teased, mockingly holding out his wrists for restraint. “Cuff me.”

    Troy’s nostrils flared with barely contained fury. His hands curled into fists at his sides, the knuckles whitening with pressure.

    “Don’t tempt me, Schett,” he warned, voice dropping to a dangerous register.

    Harry just laughed, the sound carrying no fear, no concern for potential consequences.

    But then—Troy’s tone shifted. Lower. Angrier. Personal. Something beyond professional frustration entered his voice, transforming the confrontation into something more intimate, more charged.

    “This is the second time in a week I’ve had to deal with one of you,” Troy snapped, his words carrying unexpected weight. “What the hell is wrong with you and your father?”

    Harry’s smirk faded slightly, genuine confusion momentarily replacing his confident amusement.

    Troy watched the shift in his expression, gave a small, satisfied nod at having finally broken through the armor of Harry’s arrogance, then stepped closer, voice dropping even lower.

    “You know, I had to pay your old man a visit at the shop after a complaint about public indecency?”

    Harry blinked, his perfect composure cracking further as the words registered.

    What?

    Troy narrowed his eyes, leaning in with the satisfaction of someone who finally had the upper hand.

    “That’s right. Someone didn’t like seeing Max Schett parading around in a pair of Lycra shorts that left nothing to the imagination.”

    Harry’s stomach flipped, a cold sensation spreading through his core despite the heat of the day.

    The photos.

    The masked images he’d seen online.

    Had Troy seen them? Was this connected?

    Troy gave a small, smug smirk at having clearly hit a nerve, then stormed off, shoving past Harry with heavy, irritated strides that carried him swiftly down the street.

    Harry just stood there, watching him go, his extraordinary physique momentarily forgotten as his mind processed this new information.

    He didn’t care what Troy thought—the man was clearly jealous, threatened by a level of physical development he could never achieve despite his own impressive conditioning.

    But…

    His father?

    Harry frowned slightly, thinking back to what he’d seen online. The masked photos that had appeared in his feed. The cryptic comments beneath them. The familiar shop interior in the background.

    Had Troy seen that content? Was this connected to whatever was happening with his dad?

    Harry’s chest rose with a deep inhale, his entire body expanding from the sheer enormity of his frame, the red shorts straining further as his muscles tensed with decision.

    There was only one way to find out.

    Time to visit Dad.

    He turned towards the sports shop, his massive legs rubbing together with every powerful step, the friction between his extraordinary quads creating a distinctive rhythm that announced his approach.

    Then, with one final deliberate bounce of his pecs, a physical reset of his confidence, he walked through the door to confront whatever awaited him inside.

  • Pub in the Rain

    Conclusion

    Opening his eyes, Derek realized he had dozed off. The room was dark and he could hear the sound of dishes, and the lights were on in the rest of the flat. He pulled himself out of bed and wrapped his robe over himself. Feeling cold, he dug some wool socks out of a drawer. He suddenly felt ridiculous, as if he was a homeless person about to wander into a warm house asking to be fed.

    Emrys was sitting on the sofa, a blanket over his knees as if he was an old man. He looked at Derek for a moment, then down at his hands which were crumpled together in his lap. Not wanting to talk yet, Derek went and found the kettle boiled and he realized Emrys had been in the middle of making tea when he had abandoned the project.

    He threw teabags in the pot and poured over the hot water, collected mugs and the milk jug all on a tray and brought it to Emrys, placing it on the table in front of the sofa. Derek sat down and, feeling like his mother who would make tea compulsively when there was a crisis, filled their mugs, added milk and handed one to Emrys.

    Again, Emrys gave him a hollow look, but he said, “Thanks.”

    They sipped from their mugs in silence for a moment. Finally, Derek knew he had to say something. “Grace got home all right?” He couldn’t look at Emrys.

    “I expect so. Derek, I…”

    “Don’t bother.”

    He could tell this caught something in Emrys, who looked surprised. “What do you mean?”

    “What do I mean? You were all over each other by the car. What more is there to say?”

    Emrys shut his mouth as if he had been silenced. But looking at him, Derek realized his reaction was not what he expected. Not contrition. Or guilt. It was something else. Had he misjudged?

    Taking another sip of his tea, Emrys put it down. “No.”

    It was a response to a question he hadn’t asked. “No?”

    “No. You have it wrong.”

    “Emrys, I saw you…”

    “Yes, you did. You saw us. But you didn’t see all of it, did you? You stalked inside without a word and slammed the door, as I recall.”

    Chastened without understanding why, Derek said, “But I didn’t need to see more, did I?”

    “Why are you so sure?”

    He could tell that Emrys was getting angry and that was the most confusing thing of all. In his head, the chorus was just reciting the same litany about the nature of men and his worthiness to be treated badly by them.

    Derek put his mug down, trying to will himself to be still, to be reasonable. He knew he was right and he wasn’t going to be talked out of it. “Do you want to be with her?”

    As soon as he said the words, he knew he had gone too far. Emrys got up and walked into the kitchen. He heard a cupboard door open and close then he returned with some shortbread in a packet which he flung on the table between them. He sighed and, sitting down again, opened them, handing one to Derek who took it without understanding what was going on.

    Finally, Emrys said, “It’s your worst fear, isn’t it. That someone like myself, or Patrick, will throw you over for someone more interesting.”

    Taking a bite of the biscuit, Derek felt the sting of being seen, and the voices in his head stopped cold, and he was faced with silence in his mind. Was that true? He lay his head on the back of the sofa, closing his eyes, chewing on the sweetness. He looked over at Emrys, who looked less angry, more in pain, his eyes bright, but clouded. “But you were…”

    “Derek. Listen to me. Yes, she hugged me and kissed me. You saw that. But you went inside before you saw me push her away. You missed the part where I told her that what she wanted was not possible. You didn’t hear the conversation we had where she told me she didn’t believe I was really interested in men, that it was an escape or some foolishness like that. She drove off in a state and I stayed outside for a while, cooling off, getting my head around it. You missed all that. You jumped to a conclusion that I suspect you alway jump to. You’re wrong.”

    Derek lifted his head, looking at Emrys, feeling his stomach sinking into the floor. Had he mistaken the whole thing. His impression had felt so real, so accurate. He could tell Emrys was close to tears, something he had never seen. Derek realized his eyes were also filling, blurring the vision of the room. He reached for his mug and drank the scalding tea.

    “Derek? Can you say something?”

    He put his mug down and looked at Emrys again. “I thought you were…”

    Emrys reached for his hand which he allowed to be taken. “I know. You weren’t wrong about that, but you didn’t have the whole picture. Derek, I’m with you. I love you for fuck’s sake. I wouldn’t do that.”

    Now Derek was crying. The guilt felt acidic in his body. He wanted Emrys to wrap himself around him, but he also wanted to be left in the road like abandoned furniture. They sat for a while not speaking. Finally, Emrys said, “Let’s go to bed.”

    He stood and pulled Derek up. He didn’t embrace him which Derek wasn’t sure he could bear, but he led him to bed where he took his dressing gown off, and then took his own off and pulled him into bed. Instead of embracing him, he kissed Derek on the forehead and turned. Derek lay, frozen, anguished, unable to understand the cacophony of feelings in him. It wasn’t just that he had been wrong, it was that he had felt so certain and that being wrong was almost unbearable. What could he trust about himself if he couldn’t trust this?

    He thought of Patrick and how he had been so sure that he had loved him completely, only to discover that Patrick had other ideas. Other motives. Or Jonathan in Toronto who had seemed so eager but by that point, Derek knew the signs and had run as fast as could. Without, he realized with an almost physical shock, waiting to hear if he had been right. Because he was sure he was right. Seth was meant to be the antidote since at first he was so ardent, so open, so vulnerable and he had almost let himself be taken in until Seth himself seemed to become some other person who distrusted every moment even if each appraisal contradicted the one that came before it. Seth was, he realized, a bit like him.

    He lay awake, realizing he knew nothing.

    Sounds from the kitchen below woke him. He pulled himself from bed feeling raw, as if he hadn’t slept at all. The guilt was still there, but it had moved on to more productive subjects. Like Hugh.

    He put on his lounge pants and a sweater and made his way to the kitchen, the fireplace. Emrys had poured him coffee and was a little pile of toast at the bar. He sat, feeling stupid, feeling like he was about to be driven out of the house. He said, “I’m sorry, Emrys.”

    He got no response which felt worse than anything. He sipped his coffee, hoping to be taken away by a cataclysm. After a few moments, Emrys sat beside him, saying “I know.”

    They ate in silence and Derek madly thought that if they could fuck right then and there, everything would be fine. But he kept eating.

    Emrys cleared the plates and poured them more coffee. He said, “Come and sit by the fire, Derek. It’s cold.”

    Derek noticed the fired was bright and hot and it was the kind of day when Gareth would come and spend the afternoon, as if he had no fireplace of his own. But he had a son staying, assuming he was still there.

    When they were sitting, he felt Emrys’ foot rubbing his own which felt both a relief and torturous. The fire was heating his legs. Finally, after overcoming waves of shamed inhibition, he said, “Hugh tried to have sex with me last night while you were out.”

    Emrys put his mug down and Derek, for a moment, thought he might get up and order him out into the street. But he said, “Oh did he? The little devil.”

    Derek looked into Emrys’ eyes which had a playful gleam in them which didn’t make any sense.

    Then Emrys continued. “And…what did you do?”

    Taking a deep breath, Derek said, “I got out of there. I mean…I was flattered. I was into it for a second, because…well you know, he’s not bad looking. But I couldn’t do it, Emrys. I feel so bad.

    “Why on earth would you feel bad?”

    Now Derek was confused again. He felt tawdry, like a bad romance novel come to life. “Because, I let him, for a second. I could have seen myself doing it. He had his hand in my pants, after all.”

    Emrys had a maddening grin on his face that made no sense to him. “You were hard, I hope?”

    Derek winced. “Yes…”

    With a little laugh, Emrys leaned forward and kissed him. “But now you’re here. Derek, don’t you see? We both had a little moment with someone. I won’t lie to you. If I had been single I would have taken Grace to bed. And you had a moment and you made a choice. I don’t quite understand why you’re torturing yourself.”

    Was he torturing himself? But he knew the answer. Of course he was. It felt like the right thing to do, as he always had done. But he also knew that there was a very good chance that what felt right sometimes was only right because some ghostly moment from the past said it was, not because it was right now, here, with Emrys. He took a deep breath, then another, as if the oxygen, the warm air, the quiet of this old building would nourish him in some way he still didn’t understand. He said, gripping Emrys’ hand, “I am, aren’t I?”

    With a nod, Emrys stood up and extended his hand to him. “Come.”

    Not understanding, Derek stood up and Emrys led him down the hall, up the crooked, age-old stairway and into the apartment, into the bedroom where they didn’t, as he expected, turn to each other with the relieved sex of lovers who have reconciled after a tense argument. They turned to each other and just lay still as if they weren’t quite convinced the other was there and were waiting to see if the stillness was a mirage. They lay into the afternoon, until Emrys kissed him and went downstairs to resume his normal day.

    The next morning Emrys was up with the usual industriousness he always had. The pub opened for lunch and Derek helped serve and clean and entertain Gareth who came in, tottering a little more but with just as much twinkly humour as always, telling them his son had been disloyal and gone back to his flat in Swansea which Derek was quietly relieved by.

    During the quiet of the late afternoon, before any locals appeared for pints or dinner, Grace called and Emrys graciously accepted her apology to him, and to Derek, for letting her middle-age desperation get the better of her. They agreed to see a film after the holidays which Derek accepted despite a part of him wanting her to suffer a little more even though he knew it was his own childish fears that needed to atone for whatever had happened with Emrys.

    And once the last dinner was served and the fire let turn to glowing ash, and the kitchen cleaned, the bar wiped, the lights turned off and the main door locked, they retired upstairs to little glasses of whiskey and some quiet music.

    Derek finally said, looking at the fire in the tiny fireplace that was the poor cousin of the one downstairs, “I suppose I have to believe you. I mean, that you are really here. That you want me to be here, I suppose.”

    Emrys put his glass down and smiled. “Yes.” He reached for the collar of Derek’s shirt and began to unbutton it, pausing between each button to lean over and kiss him cheek, his forehead, brush his lips with his very softly.

    Derek, slightly hypnotized by Emrys’ careful movements, the warmth of his breath on his face, said, “I won’t say that I’m sorry. Not that I shouldn’t, but that it isn’t the point.” He paused while Emrys pulled his arms out of the sleeves. He glanced at his belly that slightly sagged at the waist of his pants. “And it was exciting to have Hugh kiss me, to be all randy and show me his cock. Kind of exciting.”

    Emrys smiled again, and kissed his neck, slowly ran his tongue over his collar-bone, licking in slow patterns over to his nipple, sucking it slowly while running his hand over the other side of his chest down to his belly, then back up, trailing his hands over his flesh. Derek could feel a scintillating spray on his skin and he shivered.

    Emrys said, “How exciting?”

    Realizing he was smiling, Derek said, “Oh about this exciting.”

    He watched Emrys unfasten the button of his jeans and he lifted his hips so Emrys could tug them down his thighs, then pull his legs out of them. His white briefs were tight and he could see the outline of his cock pressing the fabric out. Emrys leaned down and inhaled, rubbing his nose over the hardness, them opening his mouth over the fabric-covered head, his tongue pressing which made Derek catch his breath.

    He reached down and began to pull Emrys jumper over his head, the wool feeling hot in his hands. He tossed it to the floor, before tugging at his shirt. Emrys’ back seemed so smooth, his neck so strong. Emrys suddenly pulled Derek’s briefs down and his cock was suddenly exposed to the cool air, but was immediately wrapped up in Emrys warm mouth, massaged by his tongue.

    Then Emrys sat up and let Derek remove his trousers, helping him by stepping out of them and he had nothing on underneath which for some reason excited Derek even more. His cock was hot and rigid and he moved his hips forward so his met Derek’s and Derek took them both in his fist as they looked at each other with little smiles. He slowly stroked them together and Emrys’ mouth opened a little as if he was going to say something.

    Derek pulled back and leaned down and kissed the head of Emrys’ cock, smelling his Emrys smell, tasting his body, his heat as he slid the whole thing in his mouth, running his tongue all over it. Emrys gently pushed himself forward, running his hands through Derek’s hair.

    But Derek wanted more. He pulled back, Emrys’ cock shiny and eager and said, “I want to fuck you, Emrys.”

    He stood up and took Emrys by the hand and they walked into the tiny bedroom where Derek gently pushed Emrys down on his back, his body moving down with him so that he was looking down into his face, the lustre of his eyes glinting in the dim light. Emrys took hold of him, running the head of his cock all over his, then down, over the hair of his balls, then further, pressing the head into him. Derek gasped and let him, then began to add his own pressure.

    And Emrys opened to him as he always did and some translation from emotion to act felt evident to Derek; that Emrys was just open and how wondrous was that? Derek’s cock slid very slowly into him, and Emrys’ body warmed him, accepted him, held his cock firmly, but still let him begin to move, then push, to retreat, to slide in deeper, and back, and move still deeper until their bodies were together, their lips now joined, their tongues telling stories. He pushed his hands underneath Emrys’ torso and pulled him up so Emrys was almost seated, but with Derek still deep inside him. Derek managed to move his legs at the same time so he could still push and thrust. A bit awkwardly, but in a way that allowed him to hold Emrys’ gaze, and kiss him.

    But then Emrys pushed him back, and after rearranging their limbs and Derek sliding out before, once he was on his back, pushing into him again, Emrys looking down at him, his own cock in his hand that he stroked slowly, their eyes never leaving each other. Emrys began to push down as Derek thrust up and they managed an easy, yet opposite cadence that gradually increased in energy.

    It was somewhere in the slow movements that seemed to allow every nerve in Derek’s cock to be massaged that eventually, almost as if he wasn’t expecting it, a small fire was lit that quickly became a conflagration, and his whole body began to tremble and Emrys smiled as he watched him and Derek shut his eyes and was able to let it happen, let his body empty itself into Emrys who, just as suddenly, started to gasp and shake and he felt the hot liquid pouring from his cock splash his face and neck, run down his chin and then dribble onto his chest.

    Emrys fist was coated and Derek wiped a little out of his eye with a laugh. Emrys leaned down unsteadily, but kissed him and his juices that were coating Derek’s lips were part of the kiss.

    Pulling himself off Derek, Emrys lay down beside him, kissing the spots of his cum off Derek’s chin, and caressing his chest, breathing more slowly, until they stopped moving. Derek felt Emrys breath become one with is own. He watched his cock slowly relax and soften, still running with liquid. The air was still, the house was silent. Just before Derek slipped into sleep, he felt Emrys reach for the quilt which he pulled over top of them and Derek turned and embraced him from behind, his arm underneath Emrys’ neck, his other hand resting between Emrys’ buttocks, damp and warm.

    As every mornings, Emrys rose on Christmas morning just as dawn was considering arriving, even though at that time of year, with the stillness all around them, the morning would be dark for many hours more. Derek got up with him, and they showered together. The inn was open and they had some guests in the rooms – an overflow of guests from Cardiff and Bristol attending a family gathering up the road – so Emrys had their breakfast to prepare, as well as their own.

    The guests were cheery and hung over from Christmas Eve revels, and he and Emrys joined in their coffee and sausages, eggs and croissants. The fire was blazing and when Gareth showed up with a grin and asked for whiskey at ten in the morning, Emrys poured it with a laugh and poured some for everyone and gave a long toast in Welsh that Derek only barely understood but produced laughter and a few tears.

    When the guest drove off to their family lunch and Gareth, exhausted, back to his cottage for a midday nap, Emrys pulled him down in front of the fire and fucked him slowly, and Derek, believing at last that Emrys was, in fact, who Emrys was and not some revenant spirit from some darker part of his life, came all over the carpet with a choking sound, and they both imagined stories they might tell Gareth – or his son – about the source of the stains on the carpet.

    After their lunch, the sun appeared and the sky cleared. They put on big sweaters and boots and went out into the day since Emrys had admitted that he had never in all the years he had lived in the village, walked up the ridge. Hand in hand, Derek led them along the winding path over frozen heather and gorse, lichen-covered outcroppings of stone until they reached the narrow apex and Emrys kissed him, and again, and then said, “I can’t believe you’ve shown me what has always been outside my door.”

    They stood for a time, at first enjoying the chill breeze that swept over the expanse before them, until the chill was no longer exhilarating but merely cold, and made their way back to the inn, to the ancient pub where they began to prepare a small Christmas dinner for themselves and for Gareth and a few locals who had no families. The pub was warm and the fire hot, and the whiskey flowed, and Derek, perhaps for the first time, began to believe that what had always felt familiar was actually just a mirage. That Emrys’ hand on his shoulder meant what it meant, that his soft kiss at the end of the night was merely and magically just that.