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DEEP INSIDE DALTON: Converting the Jock-Next-Door into a Chempig


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Man, I just discovered this story and read every part up until Dalton is smoking T for the first time.  I see nothing has been written since December 2015 and I hope the story will continue and be completed soon.  Massive turn on.  

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PART 8 – NOT A FAG

 

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“Fuck yeah, buddy,” I replied, picking up the pipe and motioning toward the back patio. “We’ll definitely smoke some more. But first, let’s see what Brian and Jesse are up to.”

 

Dalton grabbed my arm, taking a half-step backward. “Wait, bro. I just want to be clear about one thing.”

 

“What’s that, bud?”

 

“I know you guys are gay, and that’s cool. I’m totally cool with that. Really. And look, I’m fine hanging out naked if we’re gonna smoke some more of that shit. But…I’m not—well…”

 

“You’re not what?”

 

“I’m not…a fag, OK?”

 

“Sorry—what?”

 

“I said I’m not a fag, bro.”

 

“Ah. No problem, buddy—works for me. Not a fag? OK, then you’re not a fag.”

 

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that, obviously. Like I said, I’m cool with you guys. But I have a girlfriend, and I'm not into dick. OK?”

 

“I understand, buddy. There’s plenty of faggot to go around this afternoon, so I’m cool with you just hanging out—in, you know, a non-faggoty way.”

 

“Great. Thanks.” Dalton’s face relaxed into a sheepish smile. Then he glanced down at his cock, which seemed to be doing everything in its power to close the distance between us—stretching a good eight or nine inches away from his flat stomach, throbbing in my direction as it curved slightly upward, a bead of precum forming at the piss-slit. He laughed appreciatively, causing his dick to twitch. “I guess that smoke makes me pretty horny, huh?”

 

“That’s the best thing about it, buddy. It makes all of us fuckin' horny.” I reached over to the counter and grabbed a shot of G, adding a little Gatorade to it, then told Dalton to drink up. “This shit tastes a little nasty, so make sure to follow it with a chaser.” He nodded and threw the shot back, grimacing as he grabbed the bottle of Gatorade and took a giant gulp.

 

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“Dude, what the fuck was that?”

 

I smiled to myself, always relishing those moments when boys ask questions when it's already too late. “Just something called G, bud,” I replied, doing my best to sound casual. “It’s sort of like a strong shot of Jägermeister.”

 

“Fuck, that better be a lot stronger than Jäger, dude. That was fuckin’ disgusting.”

 

“Trust me, buddy.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder as I felt the heat radiate from his young, muscled body—all those chems just beginning to do their work. “Just trust me, OK?”

 

He nodded, and I led him out to the patio, where my favorite faggots were hard at work: Brian was sitting in one of the deck chairs, his dick lodged deep inside Jesse’s hole. Jesse squatted over him, his shoulderblades pressed against Brian’s chest, craning his neck back for a deep, sloppy kiss. Meanwhile, Brian wrapped his hairy, muscular arms around the jockboy’s smooth body, both of them lost in the glazed-eye twilight of a deep chemfuck. My attention immediately went to Jesse’s ass as it stretched around Brian’s poz dick, the boy’s chem-fueled fuckhole hungrily pulsing in a deep, steady rhythm.

 

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I glanced over at Dalton, who had clearly noticed the same thing. “Holy fuck,” he said under his breath, absent-mindedly reaching down to grab his dick. The sound of his voice—deeper than usual, with just a hint of a growl—immediately brought Brian and Jesse to attention.

 

“Fuck! I'm so fuckin' sorry, Dalton,” said Jesse, doing his best to sound ashamed while keeping that raw dick firmly lodged in his hungry hole. “We didn’t mean to freak you out. Is this OK?”

 

“Yeah, it’s cool, buddy,” Dalton said hoarsely, trying to signal his approval with an awkward wave of his hand. “Gay shit doesn’t bug me, bro. You know that.”

 

“Well, that’s a good thing, straightboy,” Brian replied, his eyes locked on Dalton’s. “Because this gay shit won’t be stopping anytime soon. There’s no fuckin’ way I’m pulling out of this boy’s hole until he’s dripping with my cum.”

 

Dalton hesitated for a moment, lost in the intensity of Brian’s stare, before letting out a forced laugh. “Hey, do your thing, bro. Just don’t count on me joining in.”

 

“Fine by me, dude,” Jesse replied. “More dick for this faggot.”

 

“That’s right boy,” Brian said to him, thrusting his cock just a little deeper. “Now show me what a hungry chempig you really are.” The two of them dissolved back into a kiss, and Dalton and I stared at Brian’s fat dick as it grew fatter still, stretching that boyhole even wider than before.

 

“It’s all good,” I said to Dalton in a low, quiet, even voice, reaching over to squeeze his shoulder—and causing his cock to jerk upward with another twitch. “Why don’t you head inside, and I’ll find you some good pussy porn?”

 

“Fuck, that sounds good to me,” he said with relief, seemingly unable to stop staring at Jesse’s pulsing fuckhole as it milked the precum from Brian’s poz cock. “But hey: weren’t we gonna smoke first, bro?”

 

“Oh, damn! My bad, buddy. Here you go.” Once again, I held the pipe to his lips and heated the bowl, letting the tip of my cock graze his outer thigh as I whispered instructions to this newest chempig-in-training. And once again, he inhaled a lungful of smoke, leaning his head back and blowing a giant cloud—his hips countering with a slow, sensual forward-thrust of his cock. I fed him two more hits after that, each time letting my dick rest a little more firmly against his leg. Then I gave him a friendly smack on the ass and told him to meet me inside.

 

As Dalton walked away, Brian moaned softly, his eyes following the rise and fall of our Neighbor Boy’s muscled ass. “Please tell me I get to fuck that boy now,” he said under his breath. “I can’t fuckin’ hold back any more.”

 

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“You will—don’t worry,” I replied. “But first we need to solve a tiny problem.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Well, see…he’s not a faggot. According to him, anyway.”

 

“That’s nothing new,” said Brian.

 

“True. I’ve seen dudes with sloppy asses dripping 10 fresh loads, yet still claiming to be straight.”

 

“Fuck that. We’ll make this boy a faggot, and make him fuckin’ like it. We just need to help him see things…our way.”

 

“Ah: the power of persuasion.”

 

“Fuck no,” Brian replied. “The power of a nice fat slam.”

 

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