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This is not written by me, but it was archived by me. It was posted in one of the pozzing Yahoo! groups that I, VICARIOUSLY , slutted my way through the 90's and then some before finally taking that leap in 2005. I believe this and the following three chapters is the complete story as it was written. Well done to the author wherever you are, I'm sorry I didn't think to get your name. ---------------- PRETTYBOY You have an aching need, I know because I have it too. A need to push your experience to the extreme, through total corruption, perversion, blasphemy, addiction, and compulsion. To be filled completely by your lusts and give your body to evil and sadistic desires . . . The Demon will consume you completely, leaving only a trace behind. I know . . . because it’s happened to me. I was the greenest most innocent person you could imagine but then I got raped and from there my life began to fracture and be ripped apart. It really fucked me up because it made me associate dominance and violence with sex and so I began associating with men who somehow subconsciously fulfilled this hidden desire. Then I noticed those XXX arcades and clubs littering the streets. Wastelands of sexual desire where anything and everything could occur. Of course I was scared shitless when I first entered them. it was overwhelming seeing all those men loiter the corridors with their thick slimy cocks hanging out. But I was strangely drawn to them even though I would never admit that to myself or anyone else at the time. I was better than them wasn’t I? And so initially I would resist all attempts to entice me into a scene. Some guys didn’t take no for an answer though and kept coming back; each time wearing down my resistance just a little and so over time I began to fondle their cocks as they stuck them in front of my face and play with their cocks when they slid them through the glory holes in the cubicles. I was enticed and from there I knew that I was slowly losing my grip and succumbing. But still I fought. Because I was afraid of what would happen to me if I didn’t remain in control. What would happen to me? and would I change? I didn’t want that. But still the men were persistent and kept telling me to eat their asses and bend over for their raw cocks. I would look at them leering at me and slowly licking their lips and rubbing their lumpy cocks. Why wouldn’t they just leave me alone? Didn’t they know I wasn’t interested? Or did they know something that I didn’t at the time and that it would only be a matter of time before they would have me? a boy could go crazy thinking about all these things. I remember being drawn to several men in particular during my time out at the arcades and clubs. All of them were older than me by a good thirty years and all were sleazy. I guess I was fascinated by their overt blatant sexuality and that they seemed to do whatever they wanted. It shocked me to see them fuck ass raw and take loads though. Didn’t they understand the risks? What about HIV? At the time I figured that if they were doing it then surely they must be poz or didn’t care and so I avoided them where possible but several men in particular didn’t take no for an answer and kept following me wherever I went; one man who saw me out at the clubs and arcades kept sliding his huge thick cock though the glory holes and stroking it in front of my face. He kept calling me “prettyboy” and told me to suck him. I looked at him with more than a little disgust but I couldn’t help getting hard and to my embarrassment he would notice this and tell me in a condescending manner that he could wait and that I would be his, whether I wanted it or not? When I heard those words it really did a mind-fuck trip on me. how could he KNOW that? And how arrogant to assume that I would do that. He didn’t know me and to just assume that was the height of arrogance I thought. I would prove him wrong. Oh yeah I would. He didn’t own me. how wrong I was . . .
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How To Inhibit The Inhibitor part 1.pdf
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When I was young I read lots of books. My parents let me read what I wanted, which was good, because I had zero interest in sports or any of the other things that usually make boys boys. (I wasn’t into the things that make girls girls, either, in case you’re wondering.) Star Wars had just premiered and in a few years I would discover Dungeons & Dragons and computers, but the books were always at the center. They were stories about heroes and heroines, protagonists who had to face uncertain situations or dangerous enemies, find advice from the wise, struggle with their own inner weaknesses, and find a way to emerge ethically victorious at the end. There were a lot of such stories, and if you read enough of them at a certain formative time in your life, they shape you. Principle among these for me were the works of Tolkien, with their epic depictions of the noble Men of Numenor and others great and good. I found later in life that I had no real-life idols I looked up to or wanted to emulate - mine were all in books. The real human ones - like my father - failed to meet the noble standard of my heroes, the standard I set for myself to reach. Therein lay the seed of the problem. I hadn’t hit puberty - I bloomed late, and being Autistic, I didn’t catch on to what was happening to me when it did happen. And why would I? You see, in all those books, all those stories, and especially in Tolkien - there is no sex. I grew up in a home where sex wasn’t discussed. My Dad’s birds-and-bees talk with me consisted of “mutter mutter mutter keep it in your pants” and I didn’t even understand what “it” he was referring to. So, like Queen Victoria, I determined that I was going to be Good. And I was. I strove to be perfect in everything I did - “Be perfect even as your Father in Heaven is perfect”. My father cussed like a sailor, yet not one off-color word passed my lips. I was a straight arrow, square as a cube, insufferably correct, and ethically anchored. I was also socially inept and sexually clueless, but I didn’t know that. All I knew was that most people didn’t like me even though I tried hard to be a good person, and the people who didn’t like me liked pop culture and had started going on about this “sex” thing. Fine. If they were going to reject me, I would reject them, and everything they liked. Fast-forward to college. Sex at last made itself understood to my brain, and it was incompatible with everything I ever read about, admired, aspired to, or wanted. It as carnal, animal, messy. It wasn’t Good. And there was this word associated with it, the word that, then, I considered the worst thing I could say: fuck. Still more confusing, I found that my curiosity about sex revolved around sex with other men. As a freshman, I went to my first AVS and bought my first gay video. It changed me. Fuck me! Fuck me! God yes, fuck me! Men actually did the thing my rebel body was shouting for! But not me. I resisted the rebellion with all of my reason and my willpower. I destroyed the porn tape, glad to be rid of the damn thing... then, before too very long, I bought another. After I purged the indecency from my body I destroyed that one in its turn. But eventually I would get another. I was still a coital virgin. In high school I had had a girlfriend who would work my cock with her hand until I came, but I didn’t understand what was happening and certainly didn’t have sex with her. Now I was on a campus where 95% of the students belonged to one of the fraternities or sororities, and sex was everywhere around me. I was a ΓΔΙ (Gamma Delta Iota) - a God Damned Independent - so I wasn’t marinated in sex and alcohol like the rest of the idiots. Yet I had a need in common with them, a drive at that time of life screaming to be met, and I ensured I had no opportunity. The struggle became a kind of inner warfare that split my mind in two - two different facets of me so incompatible and so consumed with mutual loathing that they persist to this day. It was only the year after I graduated that a very kind and dear friend ended at least a part of my conflict by seducing me and taking my virginity. I will always be grateful for her mercy, even though the act left me even more confused - was that what everyone got so worked up over? But that’s irrational... Fast-forward. Graduate school, job, no sex again until marriage (to a gal with a record of some 74 guys she had been with). Sex was expected, and sanctioned, and she had a potty mouth and I suddenly found my resolve slipping. During the moment, to my shock, I even used the F-word. The sex was good enough to produce two children - my son’s conception was one of the most unusual and memorable ejaculations I’ve ever had - but not good enough to keep her happy. After 11 years, it was over, and at age 37 I looked at myself and found a wreckage of all my early asperations and resolve. I had been dragged down into divorce like any regular person, prey to emotion and physical appetites that I had had to concede to in order to meet her needs. Now there was no her, just me, horny and prone to swear, and now actively thinking of finding out if I really was attracted to other men, and what that would be like. I went to Louisville to a gay bar even though I didn’t drink, got picked up by a guy and fucked the first night, and loved it. Loved it. Loved. It. Eros was god of love and sex in the ancient Greek world. Among other things, he was said to be the protector of homosexual love between men. Though originally a primordial god, later tradition makes him the offspring of Aphrodite, goddess of love, beauty, pleasure and procreation. He carried a bow with arrows that could cause mortals to feel passion beyond reason; the Romans called him Cupid. I am convinced that the son of a bitch found me early on and realized that here was a mortal who made a mockery of him and his power (erotic power, named after him). He made his plans right there and then that he was going to take me down about 300 notches by hitting me with arrows at just the right times. By the time he was done with me, he figured, this good, upright, uptight boy would be a sex-addicted slut happily wrapping his tongue around men’s phalluses and taking their seed in his hole so often he would surpass even that whore Messalina. Fast-forward to now. His arrows don’t miss, and one offends the gods at his peril. The person I was in the beginning would have been unable to contemplate what he - I - have actually become. Far from his ideals, I have now been trained, and my mind shaped, to accept that I am intended for the random sexual use of strangers, a willing and eager receptacle for their fluid, my body conditioned to accept their rutting, excited by the sound of squishing juice and slapping skin, grunts and groans, and the scent of copulation. He still lives in my mind, proud and undeterred, but pinned down by arrows, while his hated rival has his way with my body and takes full advantage of the corruption Eros wrought. Had it not been for sex and its nearly irresistible power over the mind, I might have reached some aspect of the refinement I aspired to as a human being. Because of sex, my mind is corrupted, my body has been enjoyed by hundreds of men in degrading ways and I will gladly allow the same from hundreds more, and men know and use me now for what I am... unrepentantly, and as of this post, a whore. Thanks a heap, Eros. You motherfucker.
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What have I gotten myself into? I'm still pretty spun at the moment so forgive me if this is a bit rambling. I just can't stop thinking of all the details. To preface, I'll admit I'm a snob. I'm the son of a middle-eastern doctor couple with a posh RP British accent, smug air of superiority, and private school education: I'm the full package. I'm not gonna try to sell myself as a good person through all this, I'm actually quite classist, but I think it provides some context to how this unfolded. It all probably goes back to the first time I was re-integrated into "normal society" when I left private school around 12 years old after a house move. I was used to being in a strictly traditional environment - correct elocution at all times, no slang, back straight, uniform neat, etc. Everyone's parents were businesspeople, lawyers, doctors, and the like: well-to-do, presentable pillars of society. The culture shock of seeing less-well-off people in a more deprived area was a bit much for me to handle. With my neat hair, tie and top button done up properly, and of course the unshakeable accent, I stuck out like a sore thumb. One thing I simply couldn't wrap my head around was the body modifications and bling. Women wore modest jewelry and men wore basically none - that was what I knew. Yet surrounding me were lads walking around with cropped hair, diamond studs, and thick chains, dressed like the "unemployed wasters" and "chavs" my parents always warned me to avoid in the streets. As I got older, these turned from more hideable choices to obvious and irreversible things, earlobes hanging loose after being stretched and tattoos peeking out from under shirt cuffs, that would make any of my old social circle recoil in horror. Anyway, that's enough pseudo-Freudian armchair psychology for now. I've since matured a lot. The accent stuck around for the most part, as did some of the deep-seated opinions about the above described people, though I became much more integrated and humble with age. As expected, I aced all my exams as a high-flyer and got into a good university for a fairly tough biological sciences course. The stress of the workload there eventually got to me, and a few breakdowns later, I joined the university gym for my mental and physical wellbeing. I started to feel better about myself, trim down a bit, and get muscular. Of course, the pandemic came and shut things down for a while, and university being university decided to ramp up membership costs at the gym after reopening. To save money, I signed myself up to the much cheaper local council gym - all the necessary freeweights, and just a 20 minute drive away, although less pristine and proper than some more up-market establishments. The clientele there were hugely different to my previous gym. There were far fewer posh boys using rowing machines and benching an empty bar to say the least. I felt like the youngest there by at least a decade, although still more or less on-par in terms of body size (except for the roiders). The place was full of skinheads, some people who looked high on crack, and a few faces I recognised from the local news as violent criminals. The first time I stepped in, I got an uneasy, twisting feeling in the pit of my stomach from just being around them. Needless to say, I never became particularly social there. Among them, though, there was one who stood out. He seemed fairly sociable and chatty with the others, but never interacted with me beyond a quick glance; maybe ten to fifteen years older than me, in his mid-thirties. He was pale as though he hardly saw the sun, much in contrast with my darker skin, with a thin, almost gaunt face and a somewhat squinting gaze. From his cheeks to his neck he was covered in a moderate layer of stubble and his hair was hidden a baseball cap. His body was much more toned than mine as well: still relatively jacked, but with obvious, discernable muscles and veins as opposed to my more cub-like build. What stood out most was just how closely he fit that common waster archetype of man moreso than anyone else at the gym. Both of his arms from where his shirt sleeve ended down to his gloves were covered in tattoos (the left one of a twisting dragon or snake, and the right of a floral pattern, with other miscellaneous shapes in the gaps). The holes in his earlobes were held open with cheap, black, acrylic tunnels to about the diameter of two of my fingers. When he wasn't lifting, with admittedly excellent form, or talking to others, he spent his time flexing in the mirror and deciding whether his steel curb chain would look better inside or outside his t-shirt that day. Maybe it's because we were complete opposites in everything other than height, with him maybe only an inch or two taller than me, that I couldn't help but look on in fascination. It was an eventuality that he'd notice me staring sooner or later. Disclaimer here: I am exclusively into men (in case that wasn't obvious from the website I'm posting on). I used to call it "gay" but the politics at university put me off the whole labelling culture. I won't go on about some extensive history of being abused or groomed, or my many underage and young-adult sexual exploits because I have none: the attraction just emerged as I was going through puberty and I never acted on it until university given my overbearing yet intolerant parents. Even then, it was only a few dates I ever went on. They were tall, conventionally handsome, smart, and sensitive, but something about the guys I was meeting there just meant I was never invested enough to want to see them beyond dinner. It was on my third day at that gym, shoulders in my routine, that he first spoke to me. "Your form's a bit off, need some help?" a scratchy, slightly nasal, almost cockney voice called over my shoulder. I lowered my gaze slightly as I re-racked the weight and my eyes instantly fell on his. Instinctively, they flickered to some of his most noteable features and then away. "No, I'm fine," I snapped, my tone obviously flustered and clearly harsher than it needed to be. "Alright, mate, I'm just trying to help!" he replied, raising an eyebrow at me with a smirk and holding his hands up. I huffed and re-mounted the barbell for my next set, my eyes casting a quick glance back to him before I did. I noticed his right sleeve extended a few branching patterns above his collar and half-way up his neck. Admittedly, I could feel my form was off. I had increased my load maybe a bit too much and there was a twinge in my back, along with the distracting degenerate standing behind me. "Y'see? Your hips are just tilting a little bit to the right," he continued to critique as I tried to keep my eyes on myself "If I just..." With those three words I felt a weight on my hips gently guiding them to the left and forward. I glanced down and saw him close against my back with his toned, inked arms readjusting my stance. He was close enough to smell his bitter, chemically, musky cheap aftershave with an underlying whiff of tobacco on his breath. I felt an electric jolt shoot down my back, into my groin, and down my legs as I lost my balance and threw the bar clumsily back on to the rack. "What do you think you're doing touching me? Don't touch me! You threw off my form and I almost injured myself!" I shouted, my face turning bright red as I continued to react to him and draw attention to myself. "The fuck is wrong with you?" he asked laughing "Felt something with my hands on your hips, eh?" With that I stormed off out of the gym. Workout be damned - I was too embarrassed to continue. I hopped back in my car and drove back to my student flat, telling myself it was that mutilated, showy chav that was the problem, not me. Without giving myself time to think, I went straight to bed. Now, some details about this gym - it's right on the outskirts of town, between a depressingly grey council estate of sprawling house-flats and an opposingly beautiful forest. I got through my day of studying, seminars, and lab work, then headed out to the gym for leg day and to finish my shoulder routine. I got a couple of awkward glances from people who recognised me from the previous day's outburst, but for the most part people had either forgotten or didn't care. I maintained my load mainly, just increasing reps, and finished up shortly before closing time. It was still fairly light out as I left, so I noticed from a distance when I saw him propped up against the driver's side door of my car. "Pretty nice vehicle you got here," he taunted "How much did it set your parents back?" I bit my lip to hold back my urge to say something along the lines of 'more than you'd ever see' and asked him to move out of the way. "Nah mate, you gotta get something off your chest," he responded, "and once you do that, then I'll let you go home." "I'll just call the police," I responded. "Fine," he said, stepping back from the car and turning to walk towards the forest "just keep your problems bottled up then." As he left, I reached for my car handle, then stopped. I looked directly over to him, taking in his general figure rather than his strikingly chavvy features for the first time. A thought came to mind, but before I could acknowledge it I snuffed it out and locked my car door, chasing him down the public footpath. "What do I need to get off my chest?" I asked him, still a bit flustered. "You're asking as if I know," he replied. I moved to get mad at him for wasting my time when I noticed that same smirk again as my dark, brown eyes locked with his milky blue ones. He knew something about me that I didn't, or at least that I wasn't admitting. The look made me feel uncomfortable. "Is it really that obvious if I have some problem?" I continued, my tone quieter, almost defeated. "I noticed you constantly looking over at me since you first joined," he mentioned "or at least at parts of me..." "I just..." I started, then trailled off, not being able to find the words to articulate myself. "Let me guess, you're a rich kid, sheltered by your parents and groomed into being perfect. You constantly look for approval from older snobs and such so you can fit into the upper crust and live a decent, presentable life. Despite that, you've seen lads like me who look so different to what you've been told that your curiosity can't help but make you look. I'm so far off what you've been told a person should be like that you want to know more," he reeled off, almost rehearsedly "Is that right?" I was lost for words. He'd articulated my thoughts perfectly, better than even I could to myself. I started to wonder if maybe he wasn't quite as idiotic as I'd first assumed. I didn't know what else to say but nod. "I'll be honest, mate, you're the first posh boy I've seen who seems more interested than just put off," he continued "I'm actually interested what keeps you looking at me." "Well, it's just that..." I started, pausing to gain confidence "Why would you spend time and money just to look like that? I could understand if it was just your natural features, but you've put effort in trying to screw up how you look!" "You nervous about asking? It's a talking point, and I like how it looks," he responded with a chuckle "That's just who I am, like how you don't have any tatts and you lift and you talk all posh because that's who you are. I'm proud of this look; fuck everyone else." "And it doesn't get in the way of getting a job?" I interrogated. "Loads of people get rich with body mods - take basically any celebrity!" "And you?" "I couldn't wrap my head around GCSE maths even. I just do... this and that, on the side of the dole," he said with a wink, taking amusement in my expression "basically already accepted I'm not gonna get any higher than odd manual labour jobs." "Do you feel it?" I blurted out "As in, not when you had all that stuff done, but now. Do you feel it in?" "Heh, you really are curious, aren't you? The tatts, not really, but I see them in the mirror every day; they're a part of me forever. The gauges, yeah. They're just a bit heavy - lets me know they're in for everyone to see when I'm out and about. Never got any other piercings because I figured these were enough to look how I want - rough and masc," he explained "I can't explain how they feel to someone without them really, but I don't think you should get any for yourself if you want my two cents. Hope that's what you wanted to hear." I stared for a moment, then averted my gaze. His answer was basically everything I hoped to know, all of my questions answered, but I couldn't admit it for whatever reason. He patted me on the back with a chuckle at my response, sending another electric jolt down from my back to my perineum. "I wonder if you know you're gay yet," he pondered out loud. "What? Oh don't try that psychoanalitical mind game bull with me," I sighed "Of course I know I'm into dudes. You got a problem with that?" "Don't worry, I ain't a big fan of women and tits either. And you're using 'into dudes' rather than 'gay' for the same reason you like to lift," he said, hitting a nerve once again as he read me like a book "Not because you're in denial, but because you never really clicked with the whole gay crowd you met before, right?" "What's your point?" I asked, dodging his question rather than conceding. "You're a bright lad. Hell, you got into uni. You still haven't put it together? You're curious about men with body mods and my look but don't want to get any yourself, and you're into lads." "No..." I responded uncertainly as we arrived back at the gym car park. I noticed the expression on his face drop from amused to slightly concerned as he looked ahead. I turned to see what had caused the shift in his mood to see the gates to the car park firmly locked and the gym's lights out, with my car still stuck inside the car park. "Shit, mate. Sorry!" he apologised, running a hand across the back of his head "I let it get a bit late." "Damn, I'll have to walk back home," I sighed "A bit of cardio, at least." "Nah, mate. Would not recommend that around these parts if you wanna keep your head on your shoulders... bit of an EDL crowd around this ends if you know what I mean," he explained with genuine concern in his eyes. "I see. What would you suggest I do?" I asked hesitantly. "You gotta work tomorrow? If not, you could crash at my place?" he offered "Hell, could be nice to have someone to chat to before bed." I thought about it and reluctantly agreed. I had nothing scheduled for the next day and could catch up on lab work and study over the weekend. He hadn't attacked me in the forest with ample opportunity to do so, even when he found out about my orientation. I went along on the condition I got his name: Kyle. He asked for mine as well, and chuckled at how I definitely wouldn't last five minutes walking through this part of town by myself. We arrived back at his flat: the upper floor of a drab, mass-produced, sixties-era brick of a two-storey around two minutes from the gym by foot. As I stepped in, I was met with the smell of tobacco and his bitter cologne rich in the air. I coughed a bit and he offered me some water before we both sat down at opposite ends of a worn sofa. I glanced over to him to find him staring back at me with a soft smile. "What's the matter?" I asked, shifting nervously in my seat. "I should be asking you! You're so tense!" he chuckled "Wanna hit some tina? Loosen up a bit" "What?" "Tina: meth," he elaborated, pulling out a burnt glass pipe and a small baggie "my treat!" "Meth?! Are you insane?" "Ever smoked weed before?" he asked. "A couple of times... but meth?" I followed. "They're both class B," he carried on, heating the pipe and taking a hit "Same crime! You wanna loosen up a bit so we can chat or am I doing this alone?" I agreed cautiously, falling both for his logic and some deep-seated tugging curiosity I couldn't identify. The smell and taste was instantly familiar - he wasn't wearing any 'chemical aftershave' before. I started to feel slightly more relaxed in myself, and a bit more energised, almost like I'd had a good espresso. He asked if I was OK and I nodded with a cough. "Great... so... 'into lads'..." he said, stretching back "been getting much action recently?" "Nah, I'm a virgin," I responded bluntly "Not shy about it. My choice." "For real? But mate you're fit!" he exclaimed a bit too loudly for comfort "You could have anyone, at least if you kept your trap shut! How old are you? Twenty-one?" "Twenty-two," I responded "And I've had my fair share of dates. I just never clicked with any of them, and I want to save it for someone special." "Man I was fucking as soon as I hit fifteen," he laughed "Just a bit of fun with other lads at school. None of them were all wanky rahs like you, though." "Wanky rahs?" "I mean that in a good way. You're cute, sorta. Not a huge fan of fem guys myself," he smiled "Now you're relaxed, you feel like admitting you know the connection between that and the ink and stuff?" "Well, I guess you're a bit different to guys I've tried to date before, even to any I've associated witu before," I started unsurely as he nodded "and I dunno... I guess I had some sexual feelings about it? Like I'm curious about what other guys were lacking." "Getting there," he said, offering me another hit of tina "How you feeling about it now?" "I guess I feel like I want to get to know you a bit..." I started, prompting him to raise an eyebrow "and... I guess I already know some about you and haven't lost interest so I'm sorta further along than with those other guys..." "You ever kissed anyone before?" he asked, leaning close. "No..." I replied softly, my stomach doing backflips as I lifted my head towards his face. Kyle kissed me softly, closed mouth at first, then pulled away to look into my eyes briefly before going in deeper. I ran my hand behind his head and neck, brushing my fingers against his chain as his stubble scratched my face and his soft, damp tongue massaged mine. He pulled away enough for me to see him more fully and I panicked, withdrawing slightly. "Take another hit of tina," he instructed, and I complied as he fiddled with his right gauge "I sussed you out when I first caught you nervously glancing at me. Your eyes went straight to my ears. One problem with these is maintenance. I haven't cleaned them since last weekend and you get a sort of smegma build-up under them." Kyle removed the jewelry and I watched his ear flop down as he placed the tunnel, now coated with some white paste made of dead skin and such, on the table. It jiggled as he moved, making my dick twitch slightly. He reached for a tissue and wiped away the residual build-up on his ear, then leaned back over. "You can't believe that people have these, can you?" he asked, looking into my eyes with dilated pupils as I shook my head "Let me see if my hunch was right then. I want you to feel it and stick your finger through my ear hole." Without hesitation, I reached up and ran my hand up Kyle's neck and to his ear. It felt like my opportunity to fully confirm my fascination. I careessed the loose skin between my fingers at first, then pushed my index finger through. My dick jumped straight into an erection, even through the tina, as the warm skin hugged around my finger. He smiled, leaning in slowly for another kiss. "Just what I thought," he chuckled "you're a stigmatophile, maybe a chav fetishist too." "Those are some long words for a guy like you," I said as he whipped off his shirt, revealing the sleeves to coalesce in the middle of his chest where his shiny, thick, silver-coloured chain hung. "I know my sex jargon," he smirked, sticking a thumb under his curb chain and rattling it to assess my response "it means you're turned on by tattoos and piercings; in your case lads with those. Seems like your dick likes a chain too! And before you ask, yeah the chain never comes off unless it's life-or-death." "I like the contrast too," I declared, beginning to undress myself with a wave of relief "I like being all pure-looking like this with someone who isn't." "Same here," he growled "Though the sorta sluts I've been with hardly looked pure. What should we do with the rest of the night?" "I'm... not sure," I pondered hesitantly as some doubts began to set in "Kissing felt nice, but I don't know if I should have done it. God, I gave you my first kiss! I said I wanted to save myself. What about STDs and things too?" "I'm HIV negative, and everything else negative, and taking PrEP too," he said hurriedly, scrambling through some papers to produce a document confirming his status from two weeks ago "but that aside, I think you're still holding back. You watched The Matrix?" "Everyone has," I replied, now completely naked. "Great, so you know when Morpheus offers Neo the blue pill or the red pill. You get what I mean when I say that too?" he asked, his train of thought almost jumping "You can choose to just stay as you are or fully understand what all your feelings are about. First though, I have to know... do you trust me?" I nodded, my inhibitions more far gone than I had known before, and watched as Kyle produced a tray from under his sofa, on which sat a torniquet, some needles, cleaning wipes, cotton wool, and vials of sterile water. I watched in nervous amazement as he filled them both with some tina and water, marking one with a pen. "IV? Can't we just smoke?" I asked. "In theory, yeah," he whined "but trust me, this is different." "Fine. Just don't screw up my arm." "Yours is lighter than mine but still strong enough for a newbie, so I marked it," he said "Now, left or right arm?" I presented my left arm, my heart racing in fear and anticipation, and he tied the torniquet around it, slapping a few areas until he found a thick vein. He cleaned it off, let it dry, told me to relax and breathe normally and inserted it. I winced a little as he smirked at the blood slowly entering the syringe. As he pressed down the plunger, he spoke to me softly. "Now, tell me how you really feel. Don't hold back. I want you to admit it all." I felt warm and tingly at first, then once the cotton wool was pushed down on my arm and the torniquet removed, I felt the rush rising up through my body. I coughed and spluttered as my vision and hearing started to spin and I was hit with a buzzing wave of euphoria. My ears felt full and my body felt weak. "You are the sexiest man I have ever seen," I started saying as I lost my last inhibitions "You look so far gone and corrupted. You're ugly in all the right ways. I like to pretend I'm better than you but I should be put in my place. I want to stay true to how I am but I want to share how fucked up you are." "How can we do that?" he asked, finding a vein on himself and plunging the tina in. "Fuck me. Take my virginity," I begged "I think this is what I've been saving it for. I want to give it all to you. Make me feel inferior." "That's what I wanted to hear since I first saw you bench," he smiled, discarding the needle and falling on his back "I should say, I'm a top, and me being thirty-seven and also the fucked up one out of us, I think it only makes sense I wreck you." I moaned in agreement. Throwing away my cotton ball to kiss him and rub my hands over his solid, toned pecs, wrapping my fingers between his warm skin and cold chain. He shoved his tongue into my mouth and rubbed it against the inside of my cheeks, my teeth, the roof of my mouth, and under my tongue, violating every crevice he could reach. "Get on all fours for me, it lets me penetrate deeper," he commanded, and I complied instantly, crawling on to the carpet. I looked ahead as I felt his body lean over me, his cold chain draping to tickle my back as he leant in to suck the side of my neck. This continued for a few seconds before I heard him say it. "No." "No?" I asked, breathing heavily. "No, this isn't right," he continued, as I felt disappointment begin to set in "You're a stigmatophile, yeah? You like that I'm all chavvy. It's about looks. You should get to see this. Get on your back." A rush of excitement came over me through the ongoing euphoric haze as I flipped over and spread my legs for him. He gently pushed them apart with his tattooed hands and positioned himself close to me, his thighs rubbing against areas nobody else had ever touched. I squirmed. He reached over to his table to grab a condom, but before he could open it I grabbed his arm. "What's wrong?" he asked. "Is it OK if I say anything I want?" I asked so as not to scare him, to which he nodded "In that case, if we're doing this we do it properly. I want you to do everything to me, and you can't do that with a condom." "You want me to breed you?" he asked, his own breath quickening "It's not like I never do that but for your first time, you sure?" "And more. Fuck me up inside so I can't turn back later," I begged, running my finger along the pattern of his tattoos. "Lube?" he asked, now getting excited at my kinky side "You want my spit?" "Not just that," I panted, looking at his left ear and then to the table "add that stuff that built up under your tunnels." His eyes grew wide for a moment, then squinted again with an 'oh fuck yes'. He muttered the words 'dirty whore' and 'kinky fucker' as he handed me the pipe to take further hit after hit while I watched him carefully scrape up what gunk he could from his tunnels before putting them back in. He wiped it against my hole, sticky and elastic, and slowly pushed it ever so slightly in. "Take that inside of you, this is a first even for me," he growled "my gauge build up is inside of you and it's gonna stay there. You're gonna take everything from me." With that, he produced a huge glob of spit which hung from his lower lip before falling directly against the opening of my hole with a splatting noise. I watched him slap his pale, seven-inch, uncut dick straight against my hole a few times as he pulled a face and groaned. He looked up at me and, noticing I was still buzzing heavily from the high, shoved his dick inside me in one slow but continuous motion. It stung more than I had expected, but the pleasure of the rush made me crave the pain. Opening my eyes once I felt completely full, I looked up at the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Starting from the bottom, I saw my limp, hairy belly and my semi-hard dick, with my legs splayed. Between my tanned thighs, I saw his pale, hairless abs pressed up against my ballsack. My gaze scanned upwards to his tight, pink nipples and his chain against the backdrop of some probably meaningless latin on his chest, swinging ever so slightly forward with gravity and catching the light from the corner of the room. His tattooed chest and arms flexed, the muscles moving under the skin as he held my ankles wide open. His hat had come off now, revealing a shaved head save for a strip of short hair running down the middle of his head. I looked up at his face, aged by smoking and drug use, as he scrunched up his eyes and breathed slowly, letting himself adjust to the rush. His eyes snapped open and locked with mine after a quick head shake and he smirked down at me. "You OK down there yet?" he asked. "It fucking hurts," I said "Go for it." "You are a horny fuck, aren't you?" he chuckled, leaning down to kiss me and bringing his arms down to caress my body as I wrapped my legs around his waist. He started to thrust, slow and methodical at first. I winced a bit, but nodded encouragingly for him to continue. As he went faster I felt my hole cramping around his dick, until he was finally in a good moderate rhythm. The tina heightened all of my senses and my awareness. At the entrance of my hole, I could feel the shifts in texture as the ridge of the head of his dick passed through it, almost all the way out so that just his urethra was inside of me, then plunged back in, with the shaft and ridges of foreskin following. With each thrust, the slimy and slightly grainy combination of ear smegma and spit mushed against the skin around my hole. I ran my arms along his arms and chest and around the back of his neck, feeling his calcified veins and muscles. With each jerky thrust, his chain swung and made a clinking noise at it bounced off of his pecs, and his enlarged ears hung slightly and wobbled. Every now and again he would lean down and kiss me with a grin, and I'd feel his chain tapping against my chin. All of my senses and darkest unknown fantasies were being stimulated at once by the relative stranger between my legs. After some amount of time, the clock confirming it, I felt something cold and wet dripping on me. He was damp with sweat that was collecting all over his body and face, dripping down on to me and mixing with mine. Instinctively, one of my hands reached down to my dick and tugged at it furiously, sending a watery load shooting over both of us. I moaned uncontrollably. "Fuck yeah, boy!" he laughed "Bet you never felt an orgasm like that before!" "Are we done?" I asked looking up at him, as he looked down at our crotches and pulled his dick out "I still sorta wanna keep going." "Ooo, might be, lad," he said, sucking in air through his teeth "Bit dirty back here, anyway." "Should I douche?" "Nah mate, it's cool. I wanted you to feel it properly anyway. Can't feel liquids going in if it's too wet. It isn't bad or nothing." "Then what's wrong?" I pressed "Did you cum?" "Nah, to be honest," he said with a pause "I might have gone a bit too hard on you. Noticed a bit of blood back here and it isn't mine." Something stirred inside of me at that. I felt more vulnerable than before, and for whatever reason my dick was suddenly rock hard. I wrapped my hands around the back of his neck and pulled him gently towards me. "Kyle, I need you to breed me more than ever, please," I begged in a hushed tone. "Lad, you already got some spit and gunge in you," he replied "even I've never used piercing gunge like that." "I..." I started hesitantly "I need another IV tina. I need to be honest with you. Please, do it with me and I will explain myself. And yes, I'm sure about this." He pulled me into another kiss as we stood up and pointed me towards his bedroom. I went ahead while he fixed two large glasses of water and grabbed the tray from the lounge-kitchen. The bedroom was lit up by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Kyle's bed was a mess, with a thin, ragged sheet that looked like it had never been washed cast over the mattress. I tossed it aside haphazardly and flopped on the bed, while he handed me my glass to drink and prepared the slams. "You still have some in your system" he explained "so another 0.3 should do a newbie like you nicely." "I'll explain why I need to be bred when I'm deeper in the zone," I said as he inserted the needle "Fuck me with your unprotected dick as soon as my slam is done and talk to me honestly once you've slammed yourself." I fell on my back and felt his dick going in while the crescendo of the high came on. My lower body spasmed in pain as he forced himself in until his balls were pressed against my ass crack. My breathing felt odd, and I pressed my palms into my forehead while focusing to control it. "Fuck my bleeding hole hard," I mumbled, peeping through my hands to see him finish off his slam "Make me feel worthless." His face contort as he flexed and groaned, pressing his crossed forearms into his forehead and groaned, thrusting his hips slowly back and forth. He let out a growl as his arms came down sideways, keeping them flexed and landing them next to. "You wanna feel worthless, yeah? You a little high-and-mighty good boy, yeah?" he whispered breathlessly, picking up the pace with his hips and keeping his body upright with a wild, almost malicious look of pleasure on his face "Well look at you now. Out there you think you're something special, but now you're being fucked by my old druggie cock. You could've just slept here but you wanted to let a jobless, drug using, mid-thirties chav take your innocence and leave you broken. Looking down at this little posh boy losing his innocence like this just makes me so much harder too. You wanted to settle down, yeah? Make loads of money with a decent guy?" "I did. I wante-" I started, but was cut off by him grabbing my cheeks and holding my mouth and teeth open. He sprayed my face with spit, some of it landing on my tongue. I blinked and flinched at it, then watched with terrified eyes as he snorted and hocked, stretching his conventionally unattractive face to produce another glob of spit. As it dripped from his pursed lips, I noticed it was slightly yellow, dehydrated by tina and mixed with phlegm. As it landed on my helpless tongue and started to slide down my throat, my mouth was filled with the flavour of tobacco. The string of spit eventually disconnected from his lips as he grinned. He wiped my face dry clumsily with his finger then stuck it in my mouth. "Shut the fuck up when I'm talking and swallow," he commanded as he started to thrust again, and I obliged, trying not to gag but loving every moment of my corruption as more of his fluids entered my body "Swallow my spit. Anyone you kiss from now, you're kissing them using my spit, understand? Now, where was I... "How the fuck are you going to settle down like you're expected to? You weren't clicking with any of those respectful guys from before. I'll admit, you're doing a good job embracing your masc side, but what you were really looking for was a real fucking man to dominate you. Even if you do find some ideal posho now though, it's too late. You'll probably never do anything this fucking sleazy with a decent lad. Hell, you'll definitely never even be able to get high like this, or take some of the stuff I've shoved in you. You're physically closer to me than you'll ever be to anyone else, and even if you get to that level with another guy, I did it first and without even getting to know you. Your sense of intimacy is fucked now, even if you pretend it isn't." "What if I love you?" I asked, my mind beginning to ramble "I think I love-" "Ha! Mate you really are fucked," he sneered "I don't love you! Hell, this means nothing to me. Sex is just a bit of fun for me. I've fucked guys I know way less than you. Now that just a laugh to know I'm fucking up your love life." "If you get a kick out of ruining me, go the full way," I moaned, my dick throbbing with a combination of horniness, euphoria, and growing regret "give me your semen." "Not gonna lie, lad, it's hard to cum on T," he sighed, slowing down a bit "what was it you wanted to say about wanting my cum?" "When you fill someone with semen, how long do you think it stays in there?" I asked as he rocked back and forth gently. "I dunno, depends how long until you next shit," he said with a shrug. "Not exactly," I said, experiencing every part of him picking up the pace as I continued "Ejaculating is supposed to deliver sperm for fertilisation. Those sperm have enzymes to break their way into an egg by digesting their way in. They're meant to burrow. "The colon is also very absorptive, so it soaks up stuff well. When you cum in someone, those sperm and that absorption encourage them to embed themselves in there. They burrow in and deposit their DNA - your DNA - permanently." "Fuck me," he said, eyes rolling back as I felt his dick throb "so everyone I breed has a bit of me in them for life?" "It's more like all of your DNA is a part of them for life," I said, feeling my dick get closer to climax as I kept explaining it "But since you've made a few tears up in me, those swimmers are gonna get into my blood and burrow into all sorts of bits. Do a good enough DNA test on me even after I die and they might find your genes in me. So, breed me up. Make me carry you inside of me forever. Get in me and fuck up my whole body." "Fuck yes, take me forever you worthless slut," he groaned, starting to jerk as my words brought him close to cumming "You're gonna be fucking ruined after this, knowing my chavvy genes are a part of you. Yes... Yeah! TAKE IT!" With that, he thrust into me ten times, hard, with a pause between each one. Each thrust, he shouted 'Take it!' loud enough that the neighbours could hear. My sensitive hole felt the pressure of each jet of his cum squeezing its way up, and I started moaning and shooting a powerful load over his chin and chest. My mind was spinning, processing everything that happened, processing the disgusting stuff I had done and said, and the stuff the older waster sleazebag who had done it to me. He broke my daze with a light kiss, laughing quietly. "That was fucking fun," he whooped, propping himself up over me "So I guess you're mine forever now, lol!" "What do we do now?" I asked, post nut clarity and vulnerability joining the array of emotions. I knew there were still lots of one-sided feelings in place. "Well, I dunno about you but I gotta piss," he said, slowly sliding out "BRB." "Wait!" I shouted a bit too loud, pulling his hips back in with my legs "Do it inside of me." And that brings me to now. It's been a while since Kyle finally pulled out. After he peed, he stayed in me for at least another half an hour, though it may have been longer, fucking my beyond ruined body with small thrusts to not let any of his juices out. Eventually he got tired and rolled over next to me. My thighs ached as they came out of their previous drawn-up position, after hours of activity. We cuddled and talked about the fuck until he drifted off to sleep. Honestly I don't know how he can sleep on tina; I've been awake since and it already looks like it's daytime through the curtain outside. Before he passed out though, he whispered something to me. "I don't care if it means something to you; it doesn't to me. I don't love you and it turns me on that I ruined that for you," he said sleepily "but that doesn't mean I definitely won't catch feelings. You're still my first posh-boy." I don't know what to do. I'm still snuggled up in his arms and have been playing with his tunnels and chain and running my hand over his muscles, tatts, and stubble while I reflected on the situation. I've come down enough to realise how fucked I've been, but I still can't bring myself to get out of bed to squeeze out what piss and sperm I haven't soaked into my blood, not that it would make much difference. Now I'm left with a choice: 1) Take off, pretend this never happened, and try to live the rest of my life enjoying successful but ultimately hollow relationships, or 2) Be with this fuck-up of a man and anyone else he might want to fuck me with and live out my days like this, being looked down on with him in public and spending my money on drugs and cigarettes. Either way, I've probably ruined everything. What should I do?
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The Countdown There were only a few minutes left till midnight, and the start of the New Year. I was running out of time, but I was determined to start the year the way I intended to continue it - with some hot guys tongue down my throat. ‘New Year, new me, New Year, new me’. That was the mantra I kept repeating to myself in my head. I was determined not to spend another year jacking off behind my laptop while never actually having any fun. This year I turned 22, and although I wasn’t a virgin, that was pretty much the most exciting thing I could say about my sex life. I’d spent my whole life this way, being too wimpy to follow through on all the stuff I wanted to do. 95% of the guys I made plans with on Grindr, I’d never follow through on, and the 5% of guys I did find the spine to meet, I’d always bail out half way through. I could only think of one Grindr encounter where one of us managed to cum before I lost my nerves, and I think that was more due to a problem the other guy had more than my own skill or endurance, if I’m honest. But tonight was different. 2019 would be different. I was sure it. I’d kiss a guy at midnight. I’d suck his dick. I’d let him fuck me so hard I that I wouldn’t be walking right till mid-January. I had to! If not, then I knew I’d be resigning myself to another year of shameful wanks and missed opportunities. I would be finishing university in July, and judging by the way things were going, I’d be moving to a small town for work, which meant no more thriving gay scene like there was in this city. If I didn’t get what I wanted now, who the hell could say when I’d next get the chance? It had to be tonight. It shouldn’t be that difficult, really. I don’t want to sound arrogant, but I’m not going to fake modesty about my looks. My university campuses were spread all over the city, and I’d spent the last three years cycling from one to another on a pretty much daily basis. That had done wonders for trimming away my ‘puppy fat’, and now I had a slim, lean figure that I was more than a little proud of. I liked my sandy blonde hair, which I kept short and vaguely styled into a spiky mess. I was still cursed with my ‘baby face’ though, and I couldn’t even grow decent facial hair to make myself look older. At this rate, I’d be getting IDed till I was in my 40s. Nothing about the way I was dressed could have been criticised as being misleading, either. I was wearing a sleeveless blue hoodie, and I’d left the front open so that it was clear I had nothing else on underneath it, and ridiculously short shorts which emphasised my butt. I even made it very clear that I was wearing a jockstrap, by making sure that the waist strap was visible above the shorts. Everything about me screamed ‘DTF’. Of course, so did pretty much everyone else’s outfits too. There weren’t exactly a lot of jeans and long sleeves on display throughout the building. The whole purpose of the club I was in was for gay guys to find someone to fuck the New Year in with. I’d lied to my parents, telling them I wanted to go back to my uni city for New Year to spend it with my friends, then I’d lied to my friends, saying that I was too sick to go to their New Years parties, so that I could come here. The only person who knew I was here was my friend George - Geo for short - because he was here with me. Geo was the closest thing I’d had to a decent sexual experience, before we had accepted the plain fact that we were both ravenous bottoms. We’d still mess about occasionally while watching porn, but 69ing got boring after a while. I hadn’t seen him in a while now, but I could take an easy guess at where he was. Geo was everything I wanted to be, and I had no doubt that he hadn’t needed to wait till the midnight kiss to find what he wanted and fuck off. The only real question was had they made it to one of their homes, or had Geo been so horny that he just pulled his conquest into an alley and have it off right there. Hell, they might not have even left the venue - Geo was no stranger to fucking in toilet cubicles. When we first started playing, he’d find such joy in jacking me off while telling me stories of his exploits. The best sexual encounter I had ever had was like this, with Geo telling me about a four-way he had a couple of nights previous. Just him and three tops. I came hard right into Geo’s mouth, and he made me kiss him afterwards, getting me to swallow my own cum, then suck him off. Geo was definitely a bottom, but he could get assertive sometimes, and those nights were the best. “One minute to Midnight!” The DJ announced. The DJ was a fit guy of Chinese (I think. I’m no good at guessing those things) decent, though he spoke with a strong Londoner accent. He was pretty well known on the scene in this city, and I’d seen him play at a lot of bars. I’d never seen him like this, though. When I arrived at the club, he’d been fully dressed, but he seemed to lose his clothes as the night went on. Last time I saw him, he was still wearing a muscle vest, but now even that was gone, and he was left in just a pair of dark red briefs, though I couldn’t get a good enough view to see how much of a package it contained. “You’ve got one minute to find a mouth to start the year with!” That prompted a cheer for most people, but it gave me a sudden sense of dread. I was out of time, and I had no one around me that seemed interested. What was wrong with me? The few guys I had noticed checking me out throughout the night, I’d run away from. Now they were probably about to get with someone else, and I was going to be by myself for another night, another year, and that would be it. The countdown began, with the DJ and a few people shouting out ‘ten!’, then most of the room joining in at ‘nine’. I made my way to the side of the room, feeling absolutely crushed. I was such a waste. Eight, seven, and six all went by as I leaned against the wall. I honestly felt like crying. What a pathetic image that would have been, me standing in what was pretty much about to become an orgy pit, crying, as the clocks stroke midnight on New Years Eve. The room called out ‘five’, and I looked up, in one last vague hope of at least finding Geo. He knew what I was like, and maybe he had hung around to give me a pity snog. Geo was nowhere to be seen, but I did spot someone else, as the room yelled ‘four’. He was singularly stunning. My jaw almost fell open as our eyes met. He was tall, muscular, and for a moment I thought he was only wearing a jock. He was making his way towards me, and not breaking eye contact at all. ‘Three’ went past, and I realised he actually had a fair amount of clothes on, he just may as well have been naked. He was wearing a tight vest that was covered in thousands of tiny holes, and when the flashing lights hit him in the right way, the vest practically disappeared, showing the full shape of his torso, and more noticeably, the piercings going through each of his nipples. There was a shout of ‘two’ as he came all the way up to me. “Uh, h-hi?!” I said, but he made no response, other than to lift his left arm up - there was a black ribbon tattoo going around his arm - and shove it into my chest, pinning me to the wall as the room yelled ‘one!’ I think I let out a little yelp, and then a louder one as this hulk of a man used his free hand to grab my cock and balls in a vice-like grip. As the room yelled zero, he rammed his mouth against mine, and forced his tongue in. I went rigid, but put up no other resistance - I don’t think it would have mattered if I had. This guy radiated power, and feeling his body against mine, I could only have compared him to a brick wall. His tongue felt as huge as the rest of him, and it dominated my mouth. My eyes shot open wide as I felt something on his tongue. At first I thought it was a tongue piercing - Geo had one, and I was pretty used to them. What I wasn’t used to was the piercing leaving his tongue and staying on mine. I quickly realised that it wasn’t a piercing, but what I guessed was some sort of pill. His tongue pulled out of my mouth, and he broke the kiss. The arm on my chest pulled off, and his hand clamped over my mouth. He twisted my head to one side and began kissing, biting and licking at my neck. I moaned and whimpered, and made a feeble attempt to push against him, part of my mind yelling to get whatever was in my mouth out, but I couldn’t. More importantly, a growing part of my mind - growing in proportion to my dick in the guys tight grasp - didn’t want to. I’d smoked weed plenty of times, but otherwise, my experience with drugs was non-existent. I didn’t even drink that much, though I’d had a few tonight to try and steady my nerves. But if this utter fantasy of a man wanted me to swallow whatever it was, then fine. This was why I was here - to be brave, take risks, and stop being such a coward. I swallowed the pill. The man must have felt me swallow, because he let go of my mouth, kissed me on the neck, then the lips, then put his mouth by my ear. “Good fucking boy.” His voice was deep, and it made me shiver. “But you’re so rigid! You need to chill out. Relax a bit. And I’ll come find you when you’ve… Loosened up, yeah?” With that, his hand left my now rock hard cock, and he moved away from me. I tried to follow him, but despite his size, he somehow managed to disappear into the crowds of people making out and shedding clothes. “Happy New Year!” The shout went out from the DJ, and was echoed by people all around the room. And just like that, in the space of ten seconds, my life had gone through a dramatic change. I was partially aware of the change even then, but I had absolutely no idea just how much it would change by the end of the night. Right then, all I knew was that I’d been picked by the hottest guy in the whole building, and now there was a whole room full of people looking to fuck.
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The Trainee ** Please remember to ‘like’ the story if you enjoyed it. Feel free to comment or to contact me via mail. Thx. ** Working in a huge supermarket as a manager has some advantages. Every time I’m bad tempered or feel some kind of pressure, I turn to one of my employees and take my bad mood out on that poor guy. Building up the pressure by telling him to complete a job in a minimum amount of time; giving him work, which no one else wants to do; letting him do the late shifts all the time; fuck off his private life, by turning his down his wishes to get certain days off. I always chose a guy, who is in dire need of the money and can’t afford to lose the job. They are taking this shit much longer, than an ordinary human being – they are simply the perfect victims. The other guys at work don’t dare to interfere. They are so scared I could turn to them. Even if they think I am out of the line already, they turn their heads the other way and let that special co-worker suffer. I was in need of a new prey, since the last one got – well let’s put it this way: worn-out. So I had Betty put up the sign ‘Help Wanted’ at our entrance and we had quite a few applications. For example the 79 year old granny who told me, she would give her very best to make our store a success. Her very best? Are you fucking kidding me? She can be happy, if she wears her underwear correctly. Or the mom with 6 kids. Yeah right – can only work from 9 am to 1 pm; no check-out, because she is not good at math; no things pushing around, because of her sore back. Excuse me? Can I get you a cup of coffee and a piece of cake, while I pay your lazy ass for NOTHING? The highlight was when she asked if the job would include health insurance for her and her kids immediately. NEXT! Betty brought in another applicant. Now this was someone I would totally prefer. He was a slender guy. Maybe 18 or 19 at the most. He had dirty blonde hair, like those damn street dogs and looked at me with frightened blue eyes. “Thanks Betty….” I said while she left my office and closed the door. I let the guy stand in front of my desk for several minutes and didn’t even offer him a seat. First I finished my papers while he was standing there, feeling obviously insecure about this situation. His smile froze into place while I was signing a few other documents. Without looking at him I asked about his name. “Shane Myers” he answered with a croaking voice. I regarded him with a piercing look and the rest of his confidence shattered. “Shane Myers… do you have another pair of Jeans? Or do you always apply for a new job, in such dirty and torn up jeans?” I asked him, noticing a tear in his pants. He looked down at his right knee and tried to apologize. “My mom wasn’t able to sew it yet” he answered. “That doesn’t answer my question: Don’t you have another pair of jeans? I mean… come on… if you apply for a job, you want to make the best impression and I got to tell you: this is not a good impression to me” I said nodding at his torn pants. “I am sorry…. my other pair of jeans looked even worse” Shane replied meekly. Poor Shane, you could see he was humiliated by my words and his confession, to own just two pair of jeans. “Tell me about you. How old are you? What do you do? Are you still in school? Come on… time is money” I said harshly. “Well… my name is Shane Myers. I am 18 years old… what was the other question again?” he asked. I looked at him sternly. “Oh… yes. I am not in school anymore. I had to quit school, to help my mom paying the bills. She said I need to contribute, since times are bad and we struggle a bit. He was perfect! I wanted to squeeze him like a lemon. “We look for a full time employee. 40 hours the week. You need to be flexible. If I call you to come to work because someone called in sick, you jump into your torn up jeans and rush to my store.” I told him, adding “If you don’t finish a job in time, you do the overtime on your own free time. Got that?” Continuing I told him “There are no bad jobs, just bad workers. Listen, I will give you the chance, but don’t disappoint me. I am a hard guy, but I am fair” Shane nodded at me. He smiles but I wasn’t a convincing smile. “You get paid by every two weeks and you get minimum wage. After a while, when you proved yourself, I might give you a bit more, but first I need to see, that you really want this job. I mean really… really want to be part of our family.” and for the first time I smiled at him. “It would be great to work for you. I promise you won’t be disappointed. I learn fast and even without education I will give my very best not to fail. No matter what you need, I am your man!” he exclaimed. “That’s good to hear Shane. Now are you willing and read to start today?” I asked. “Today, like now?” he asked? “Is there a problem?” “No… not a problem at all. I just need to call my girlfriend and tell her that we can’t date later on, but I know she will understand.” he said. Girlfriend… Nice! It would be so much fun to break this boy and turn him into a cock slurping, ass fucking faggot. After he made his call I got up and my semi hard dick made a nice bulge in my slacks. As any other dude Shane noticed my prominent bulge but didn’t stare or say something about it. I went to a cupboard and opened it. “Here is your uniform. The pants might be too small, but we don’t have your size in stock right now.” that was a lie of course, but I wanted him to wear tight pants. I wanted look at his fuckable butt. “Usually the male staff wears shirts, but since we only got over size shirts left at the moment, I would suggest you wear the stuff our female workers have to wear – which is a blouse” I fished out one in his size, with a nice collar and some ruffles on it. He would look ridiculous. I could see his shocked face and calmed him down saying “We will order the right things for you. Don’t worry. But we need to get you going for starters.” I said nicely. “So… what are you waiting for? Undress and get into your working clothes.” “Here?” he asked oblivious. “Yeah – I want you ready for the action. Don’t be shy.” I snickered. First Shane got rid of his shirt. His torso was simply beautiful, almost completely hairless. His wide chest with his little nipples invited me almost to torture him immediately. I really had to control myself, not to jump up and twist his nipples forcefully. Then he pulled down his jeans. He wore boxer shorts underneath. I told him with his tight uniform pants, he wouldn’t be able to wear those boxers. He sighed that I was probably right. He made the conclusion and pulled his shorts down also, but before that he turned around, so I could admire those solid ass cheeks. I didn’t care about the fags clit anyway. I was longing for his ass. I had to fuck him hard and brutal. Not only to put him into his place, but also to seed him with my venom. Without turning to me he pulled up his working pants. That was a sight. He really had to fight to get into these tight pants. Several times he had to bend his knees to get the pants up higher. Every time he did that, he gave me a promise of his sweet ass. He cursed under his breath because he had so many difficulties to button up, but finally he managed to get into it. He turned around and tried to make a happy face. “Are you able to breathe?” I asked seriously. “Yes… but I don’t know if I can do a good job in those pants” he complained. In my mind I screamed: ‘YES, YES – you are doing a great job already.’ “Well, let’s check it” I said and walked towards him. “Turn your back at me. Now bend your knees… Shut up… I need to hear if the stitches are ripping up” “Go deeper into your knees… okay…. now crouch before me and be quiet… I can’t hear anything ripping” I grinned. “Now get do some squats.” Since Shane was with his back to me I couldn’t help but to stroke my cock through my slacks. I had to push it further. I wanted to know how far I could go and so I ordered the twink to bend a bit and with my right thumb I followed the stitches down his ass crack. I laid my left hand occasionally on his left ass cheek and run my thumb again and again up and down between his ass cheeks. Shane yelped and tried to shy away. “Don’t worry – I just want to make sure this is really safe. Imagine you work outside and then all of a sudden your pants rip and you don’t even wear underwear. We can’t risk that!” I explained to him as I continued asking in a professional tone “How does that feel?" “Good…?” Shane wasn’t sure what to answer. “It seems like your working pants are able to survive a nuclear war – now try the blouse.” What I didn’t tell him, of course we had shirts in his size. Hell - we even had blouses in his size, but I chose one that was also a bit smaller. He had the chance to turn down the job, if he had some dignity he would. Instead of that he grabbed the blouse and tried to wear it, and on the first try commented with a desperate if polite edge “I think it is a bit too small also." I couldn’t help but to agree. “This is only a compromise… don’t worry, we will change that in a couple of days” I assured him. Imagine – his top didn’t even match to reach his pants. If he would stack goods into an upper shelf you would see his bellybutton. Poor Shane hat a pants, that would reveal part of his ass cheeks while bending down. In the front some of his pubic hair could be seen. His blouse looked more like a belly top. “Can I be honest to you? I am a bit embarrassed.” Shane subdued. “Nah… you know, in these times you can’t ever wear something and be embarrassed. Today everything is possible” he calmed him down. I went to my desk and got a name tag out of my drawer. Of course it had not Shane’s name on it, but the word ‘Trainee’ “This way, the customers will know that you are new to this” I smiled. “So? Are you ready for some action? “Yes Sir!” he tried to smile and thanked me again, for giving him this chance. When we made it to one of the department managers he looked a bit irritated to Shane, but tried to act professional. I introduced Shane as the new trainee and co-worker and asked Mr. Brown to give him some work to do. After he explained to Shane what he wanted, the boy started to arrange some stuff. Mr. Brown walked a few feet with me and after he made sure that Shane couldn’t overhear our conversation he asked why the boy would be dressed like that. It was a bit revealing he remarked, adding “He looks like a faggot!” I agreed. “You know – when I showed him our uniform he asked me, if he could have pants a bit tighter, because he thought he has a nice ass. After I handed him the shirt he mentioned the things our female workers wear would be so much nicer and so he got that one too. Maybe your suspicion is true – but who am I to judge” I lied. “You know how it is – only happy associates are productive associates” I added, giving Mr. Brown a wink. “Ooooh… I see. Well, since we are living in a gay friendly neighborhood, I guess this could actually help us attracting more customers.” “Exactly” I said. Once I would be finished with him, he would know every dick by name….
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Part 1 of 3 - Meeting the Fucktard “‘Fucktard’?” I asked, reading the tattoo on his chest, above his heart. It just said ‘Fucktard’, with a number underneath, ‘#103’. The black ink stood out very clearly from his incredibly pale skin. His muscles were visible as well, and I ran my empty hand over his abs as I spoke. “What on Earth does that mean?” I laughed. He grinned, but didn’t answer straight away. He took the joint from my other hand and brought it to his lips, taking a drag. He leaned in and exhaled into my mouth as I inhaled, passing the smoke from his lungs into mine. We kissed for as long as I could hold my breath, then broke so I could blow out the rest of the smoke. Shotgunning always got my head spinning, and I let out a little whimper as laid down on top of me and nipped and nibbled at my neck. I wrapped my arms around him, placing one of my hands on his shaved-bald head, feeling the tiny little hairs under my fingers. He was an odd looking guy, really, with barely any hair anywhere on his body, it seemed. Even his eyebrows were near-impossible to see, and he could have been a vampire with how little time he must spend in the sun, to be that pale. But something about him really turned me on, and it wasn’t just his muscles or chiselled facial features. Plus, he paid for the weed, and it was some good shit, so who am I to object? “It’s nothing.” He said, whispering in my ear as he licked and nipped at that, too. “Just a little bit of fun with my friends. Maybe I’ll show you sometime.” My only answer was to moan as I felt him moving above me. He must have been a really talented stripper, since he managed to wiggle out of his trackie bottoms without moving off me at all. I brought my hands down to his waist, sliding them over his ass. No underwear. Or that’s what I thought at first, but I felt the straps and realised he was in a jock, plain white, and the only thing that made the colour of his skin noticeable as something other than pure white. “Nice.” I said as I slipped my fingers under the straps and flicked them, making them snap back against him. He brought the joint back up and held it to my lips for another drag, then started to kiss me, letting me exhale into his lungs, this time. He started pushing up my shirt as he exhaled, and I pulled it off. “Keep hold of that.” He said, passing the joint to me. “And I’ll show you what the tattoo means.” He started kissing down my neck and onto my chest. He pinched one nipple gently with one hand while his mouth found the other and started sucking at it. Once he’d got it hardened, he started using his teeth, gently grazing against it. It felt good, and I brought the joint to my lips, taking a long drag. He switched his mouth to the other nipple, leaving the already wet one alone. His hands traced down my sides to my stomach, where he pressed gently, gripping my skinny frame and holding me still. A hand slipped down to my denim-covered crotch, groping me roughly through it, making me gasp. His lips moved from my nipple, down my chest and over my stomach, kissing all the way down to my belly button. Both hands were on my crotch now, groping and rubbing at it, jacking me off even through the thick denim. As his mouth went past my bellybutton, his tongue flickered out briefly. It was a weird sensation, but in my head, so foggy from the weed, it tickled and only added to my arousal. He kissed down my faint trail of hair to the top of my jeans, where he kissed, bit and licked at my skin just above the beltline. I whimpered and brought my empty hand down to open my jeans, but he grabbed me by the wrist. I whimpered even louder, and for while he ignored me, continuing to hold my wrist with one hand as the other kept playing with my cock. With the jeans and my underwear in the way, it wasn’t nearly enough, and I knew how much better it would be even if I could just get my jeans off. “Beg me.” He said. At first, I didn’t get his meaning, but he repeated himself. “Beg me, convince me to further.” He was grinning up at me from my crotch, his odd appearance making him look so unnatural, yet so fucking hot. “Fuck!” I grunted between clenched teeth. The next word shot out of my mouth like a cannon. “Please! Please keep going! Please, I’m so fucking hard!” He laughed. “And if I do, what do I get? What happens after I get this open?” He bit down on the rim of my jeans, pulling at it, tugging so carefully that it felt like the button was going to open, but it never did. “You want your cock sucked?” “Yes!” I cried. “Please, yes! Please take them off!” “You’re not too excited, are you? I don’t want you cumming in my mouth. Not yet, anyway. What happens after I get your cock all nice and slick?” “Then I’ll fuck you!” I said far too loud, thinking that’s what he wanted. Then I thought again. “Or-or you can fuck me or… Or what-fucking-ever! Anything, as long as we’re inside each other! Fuck!” This was apparently the right answer, as his teeth were back on my jeans and with a skilled flick of his neck, he popped the button open and yanked down the fly in one smooth movement. Hands slipped under my jeans and my underwear and he yanked them down. My cock burst free, all seven rock hard inches of it. The sensation was incredible, making me leak some precum onto my stomach. He pulled my jeans all the way down and off of me, leaving me completely naked. Taking it one hand, he started pumping it slowly. I wanted his mouth, but even his hand round my cock felt a hundred times better than before. He spoke. “Aww… So small.” That snapped me back to reality, a bit. “Small?! How am I small?!” He laughed again. “Well, smaller than most guys I’ve seen recently. My friends and I, we’re all pretty demanding when it comes to size. Don’t worry.” He squeezed my dick tight as he pumped at it. “You’re still big enough that they’d want to meet you.” And with that, he took my dick in his mouth. The whole thing, down in one go. I gasped, and thought I might have cum right then and there, but I managed to resist it. “Fuuuuuck! Aaah, fuck!” I moaned out. His mouth was incredible. He must have been honest about the dick size, since he had absolutely no problem swallowing the whole thing, going back up and down again, fucking of throat by choice with no hint of a gag reflex. I felt a hand travel up my body to my chest, where he dropped something. A lighter. I looked at the joint to see it had gone out. I was feeling pretty stoned already, but if he wanted me more stoned, I wasn’t going to say no, and risk the loss of him stopping. I put the joint between my lips, lit it and took another long drag, holding it in for as long as possible. The whole time, he didn’t stop or even slow down on his treatment of my dick. I could feel his tongue moving against it as well. “Ah!” Holy fuck!” Was all I could say when he showed off his next trick, flicking his tongue out of his mouth and over my balls while the entire shaft was down his throat. “How the fuck do you do that?!” He pulled his mouth off my dick, though not before a few more times up and down the full length. “It’s easy, when you get used to it.” He moved up towards me, and I held the joint up for him. “We can show you how.” He said before he took a drag. “‘We’? Is that you and your ‘fucktard’ friends?” I laughed. “Is that what it means? That you’re really fucking good at blowjobs?” He leant down and kissed me then, exhaling down into my lungs. His crotch pressed up against my ass as my dick was pinned between our stomachs. He was still in the jock, and I could feel it bulging, straining for his cock to be released. Breaking the kiss, he spoke as I exhaled. “It means we’re really fucking good at everything.” He answered, before kissing me again. “We’re good at sucking, fucking, kissing, licking, touching, cumming, breeding, sharing. Everything.” With each word in the list, he kissed me again, slightly more forcefully each time, and after ‘Everything’, he kissed me deep, forcing his tongue into my mouth and pressing his crotch hard into my ass. When we broke the kiss, I couldn’t help but let out a long ‘Fuck’ in a moan. “You like the idea of that?” I nodded. “I think I could introduce you to the right people to get in… But right now, I want to hear you beg some more.” And I begged like hell. I told him how much I wanted him to fuck me. I kept saying I’d fuck him too, and I definitely would, but we both knew exactly where this was going. He told me he would fuck me so hard I’d scream. Told me I’d be begging him to stop. “You can’t handle a fucktard.” He said, and I told him I could, begged him to let me prove that I could handle him. “Once I’ve started, I’m not going to stop till your ass is coated with my cum, you got it?” I practically shouted my consent, and again I started begging him to fuck me. Even after he started, I was still begging. He kissed and licked back down my body, much faster this time, and told me to take another drag. I did so, not caring just how bad my head was spinning. He reached my dick, but didn’t take it in his mouth. He kissed down the length of it, sucked on my balls, pressed his tongue into the flesh underneath, grazing his teeth gently against it, before finally reaching my hole. I didn’t realise just how empty it felt till after he plunged his tongue straight down into it. I was amazed by how far into me he could reach with just his tongue, and the feeling of his spit coating my ass felt so right. I took yet another drag, thinking how much better his cum would be than that. His tongue got my ass slicker and looser than I’d ever felt it, before shifting position. He’d pulled his cock out from his jock and pressed it against my hole. I immediately felt the metal piercing in the tip of his dick, and I looked down to see that his dick was definitely at least a full inch longer than mine. Thick and veiny, too. This was going to hurt. “Last chance to sto-” I cut him off by forcing my ass down, as much as I could from this position, and I felt his thick cock push through my hole and into me, making me moan out. He never finished his sentence, encouraged by my willingness, he grabbed my hips and began pushing in further and further. Part of me thought that we were going too fast. I was still pretty tight, and that size and that piercing? He could tear my ass apart. Then another part of me spoke up. ‘Good. Let him. Let him know you can take anything he can give.’ And that’s exactly what I did. In minutes, he’d worked himself all the way into my ass and was already fucking me. It hurt. It hurt so good. He leaned in and started kissing me as he hammered into my ass. Each slam demonstrated the power of his muscle, and I worried my bones might not be able to take the force, but I didn’t dare try to stop him. I knew that he wouldn’t now, not till he was done, just like he said. It went on for ages, or what felt like ages. We never switched positions or slowed down, it was just one long, continuous pounding of my ass, like I’d never felt before. We must have been making so much noise - the slamming of the bed, my yelps and moans, his grunts. We didn’t care, he just kept straight on hammering, and each thrust made me want the next one even more. Finally, with a few final slams that could have broken down a wall, he moaned out and I felt his cock exploding, shooting more waves of cum into my ass than I could keep track of. The feeling of my ass flooding set me over the edge, and my cock, wedged between our bodies, erupted too, coating us both with more cum than I could ever remember producing before. “Holy… Fucking… Shit…” I said, between breaths, as he crashed down next to me. We didn’t clean up, just laying there in our sweat and cum as he found the discarded joint and relit it. There was enough left for one long drag each, which we each shotgunned into the other. “Holy fucking shit.” I repeated. “That was fucking incredible.” “That’s what being a fucktard feels like.” He said. “You want in? I won’t make you beg for it - all you have to do is kiss my tattoo.” I kissed it. Kissed it, licked it, played with the nipple near it, and made it absolutely clear just how much I wanted it.
