This story is a very over the top work of fantasy, and it contains extreme humiliation, blackmail, non-consent, water-sports, even some gunge.
*****
There is a certain begrudging camaraderie you reach with your adversaries that you’re up against in court every day. As a young attorney just a couple years into my practice, I found some more obnoxious than others. Melvin Krumholz was pretty high up there. He liked to talk your ear off, bullshit, bust your balls but it was mostly harmless. Touchy-feely too, always invading your space, grabbing your arm to make a point, back-patting.
In his 60s, he was pretty much a slimeball. Mel was infamous for always trying to get one over on his opponents, and was not above resorting to technicalities, dirty tricks and dubiously legal strategies- folks in the field were shocked that he still had his license after all these years. Because he was so cartoonishly villainous and sleazy, in I found him more amusing than threatening.
On Friday afternoon, I had zoned out during one of his rants. The old schmuck could talk. I looked him over, not registering his words. In his shabby brown suit with his big paunch he looked more like a slimy used car salesman than a lawyer. He was balding, salt and pepper hair slicked into a combover, with a broad, craggy face, big nose, and huge sharklike smile that was unnervingly stretched across his face at all times, even when he was openly insulting you. Which was about the only way he spoke to “snowflakes,” like me, as he called us.
He loved to rant at me about politics as we waited for our cases to be heard. I usually would just nod along, seeing no benefit in engaging with this scummy old man and just wanting our dealings in court to be over as soon as possible. On one fateful day, he had been going off on the endless failings of my generation.
“Honestly, kids like you need a proper spanking.” I looked at him and found that same smile on his face. It was unnerving- like he knew an embarrassing secret about you, maybe one that you didn’t know yourself.
“A spanking?” I asked- he had caught my attention. Sensing my interest, his eyes perked up mischievously. He leaned in and continued.
“Yeah, an old-fashioned, pants down, bare bottom spanking. Your Daddy give you those growing up, counsellor?” He was smirking at me. Had he really just asked me that? I looked around the packed room- the other attorneys, mostly gruff men Melvin’s age, were rushing around us, arguing, busy dealing with their cases. No one heard his outrageous inquiry.
“Pardon me?” He stepped closer, his face just inches from mine so that I felt his warm coffee breathe on my face.
“I asked you if your Daddy every yanked down your pants and undies, hauled you over his lap, and spanked your little naked tukus until you cried your eyes out?” I felt my face go beat red from embarrassment, which seemed to delight Mel.
“No, not really.” I confessed, flustered. Melvin took my forearm in his hand.
“Yeah, I can tell.” He chuckled, then leaned his pitted face in close to my ear and continued.
“Well, I’d strip that suit right off you, get you bare ass naked, and then spank some sense into that little heiney of yours.” He was holding my arm close to him now. It made me feel like I was stuck in place, paralyzed.
“Oh yeah, you think that would help?” For some reason I played along with his shocking suggestion.
“Oh I know it would, boy. It would teach you respect, humility. Make you humble.” He seemed to savor these words in his deep, rumbling voice. I realized I had gotten hard in my suit pants.
“Humble?” I asked, my voice a breathless whisper. He leaned in closer.
“Oh yeah, I’d humble you, kid. Take you down quite a few begs until you were good and humbled. You’d be crying like a baby. Sniveling like a snot-nosed brat. And you’d be bare bottom naked, of course!” He laughed at the thought of it, laughed at me. I couldn’t believe that he was speaking this way to me. Despite our age difference, I was his peer, his colleague. The disrespect he was showing me made me feel deeply confused and enthralled. He leaned in, craning his neck, leering at me mischievously as he continued.
“I bet… by the end of it, you’d even be calling me… ‘Daddy.'” He again relished each word, delivering it slowly, looking in my eyes as he spoke so brazenly. He was still holding on to my arm, and he had rested his other hand on my stomach. Just lightly placed his hand over my navel. My heart was pounding.
“… fat chance, counsellor.” I tried to push back but I could barely sputter out my retort. I shook free of his grasp.
“Oh yeah? I see you got a little tent going on in your trousers, there, counselor.” One of his long, thick, hair-speckled fingers was pointed at my crotch, just an inch or two where my boner was betraying me, bulging out my pants. He snickered, and I just lowered my head as he continued.
“Very little, by the looks of it” I felt a strange thrill from just standing there letting him belittle the size of my manhood. His hand seized my shoulder and squeezed. His face was so close to mine, his voice low and gravelly, and I felt his hot breathe as he continued to torment me.
“You know, I’ve seen that little thing you got between your legs at the urinals before. It looked no more than an inch. It really looked just like a little boy’s penis, not a man’s. You’re hung like a little boy, aren’t you, Petey?” I was flush with shame at what he was saying. Mel was attacking one of my biggest insecurities, poking at it like he had found a chink in my armor. Cruelly jamming his fat fingers in the wound. My head was swimming. He rubbed my upper back.
I looked at him, smiling at me. Deep down, I had always gotten turned on from being belittled. Talked down to. Somehow Mel had intuited this. He kept caressing my shoulders with one hand as he spoke.
“You got just a tiny little schmeckle between your legs, don’t you boy?” He made the universal ‘small penis’ sign with his fingers, inches from my face. He let out a long, throaty mean-spirited laugh. I looked around the room – no one was paying attention. Did the other men know that Mel was making a fool of me this way? Taunting me for having a little? Did my embarrassed red-face betray my shame?
“Schmeckle?” I finally asked, my throat bone dry. He smiled at my inquiry. He knew that for whatever reason, I was enjoying the verbal abuse, playing along. He looked around the room before leaning in and continuing in an almost sing-song voice.
“Why, yes Petey! Your little penis! Your little schmeckle! Your teeny tiny pecker. You don’t have a man’s cock in your trousers, you just have an itty bitty boy penis, don’t you, Petey?” I stuttered helplessly as he cackled. It almost felt like he had me naked right there, in front of all those other men. Like he had pulled my pants down right here at my place of work. My dick pulsed at the crazy image. The chorus of howling laughter at my pants and underpants at my ankles, bare ass and dick on display in a room full of older suited men. I felt dizzyingly exposed.
“Don’t you boy?” He growled into my ear. He was forcing me to admit it to him? Confess that I had a small penis?
“I guess so.” I sounded dreamy, distant. I was spellbound by this humiliation. He chuckled to himself, mean-spirited laughter at my disgracing myself before him like this. His eyes were wide with disbelief. Laughed at my going along with this humiliation like a stooge. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.
“Maybe after I give you a proper spanking, I’ll show you what a grown man’s cock looks like, huh boy?” His voice was gravelly with a menacing lust and he squeezed the generous crotch of his suit pants. He smirked when he saw my eyes widen at his ample endowment.
He leaned back, straightened up and adopted a serious tone of voice, as if we were negotiating a settlement.
“But who knows? If you’re man enough to drop your drawers and put yourself over my lap, then that my change my mind about your whole half-assed generation. Whaddaya say?” He was glowering at me, that same big grin still on his face. His proposal was so strange, it humiliated and thrilled me just imagining it. I felt like I had no choice.
“Ok.” I croaked. He beamed at me and said he’d give me a call after the court closed that day.
And so somehow at 5:30pm I found myself following this strange old man upstairs to what he had called his pied d’terre, a small one bedroom apartment near the courthouse. All the while he was chuckling at me for being such a fool, and while I did feel foolish, ridiculous to submit to this and put myself in this position, it almost felt like I was sleepwalking. Like it wasn’t me following Mel’s wide-waisted suited form up the stairs to the small, dingy apartment. I felt like I was stepping towards my own doom. Placing myself in his custody.
Melvin opened the apartment and led me in, grabbing my elbow. He locked the door and pulled an arm chair to the center of the room and sat, then gestured for me to stand before him. He looked up at me, beaming, absolute triumph on his face that his young rival was surrendering to him so entirely.
His big hands grabbed my waist, and he shocked me by darting into my pocket and claiming my wallet. I stood there as he extracted my license and read aloud.
“Peter Joseph Meechum, I am going to spank your bare ass. This is something your father should have done to you al long time ago, and now I’m going to do it. Do you understand, boy?” His deep voice was loud and clear as he pronounced my fate, his dark eyes boring into mine.
“Yes, Sir.’ I responded automatically, and he grinned at my submission. Looking me right in the eye, he put my wallet into his pocket. He inhaled, savoring the moment.
“Let’s get started.” His gnarled old hands attacked my belt and waist band, swiftly opening my suit trousers. He hooked his thumbs into their sides and pulled them down. I stood there in my boxer briefs with my pants bunched at my ankle.
“Not pleased to see you in these. I am going to have to putt you in some some good old-fashioned white fruit of the looms briefs.” He then leaned forward yanked my shorts to my ankles in a single rapid movement. Melvin’s eyes widened and his grin and he erupted in cruel laughter.
“Chirst! What a tiny little pecker!” He laughed. I stood looking forward, blushing furiously. I clasped my hands behind my waist obediently, letting him examine me. I then gasped as he flicked my penis with his fingers. Mel giggled as he watched it bounce. I wasn’t the best hung guy in the world, but I wasn’t the smallest either. I was just under six inches, which I had read was average. As in the courthouse, Melvin was just trying to get in my head. It was working.
“Goddamnit, it’s even smaller than I thought, kid! Why, I’m pretty sure I had a bigger peter when I was 8 years old.” He boasted, and for some reason, I nodded along agreeably. He laughed at my craven kowtowing, ridiculing me. He raised his phone.
“For posterity. A pic of little Peter.” I saw his leering smile behind his phone and realized that the photo definitely included my face and entire naked body.
“No wonder you’re such a goddamn wimp, huh, with that little dick.” He remarked, shaking his head incredulously.
“All right boy, come here.” His large, cold hands grabbed my bare waist and he pulled me over his lap. With surprising strength, the old man placed my body in position so that I was helplessly prone over his lap, my backside up.
Melvin’s large, rough hand rested over my butt cheeks. He squeezed and kneaded the right one possessively as I lay there, letting him feel me up. The sensation of his suit trousers felt strange against my naked skin. It was surreal, to be disrobed, completely nude before a man in his suit. For what felt like a minute or two he just held me over his lap. His pendulous gut pushed into my waist with each breath he took, and I listened to the noise of the city outside his window. I relaxed into him, let him hold me.
The first slap on my right butt cheek made me grunt. The sounds seemed to echoed all over the room.
By the tenth it began to really hurt, and I was soon wincing with each thunderous spank on my behind. At the twentieth I began to yelp in pain after each.
I grunted, trying to tough it out. Tried to focus on my breathing. I soon lost count of how many spanks I had received.
After a dread-inducing pause, Mel brought down a stinging thunderclap on my rear. I shouted, and Mel held me down over him. He proceeded with a steady barrage of slaps to my bottom. He must have reached fifty or so spanks. Soon I began to plead.
“Please, please-” I begged and struggled to escape from his lap. His left arm pinned me down. I couldn’t believe how strong this decrepit old slob was, but he had me trapped over his knee.
“No way, Jose. We’re just getting started, my boy.” He crowed, raining down another series of quick, burning blows to my buns. I struggled uselessly in his arms as he held me down. Another dozen blows and I was moaning in agony.
“I’m liking warming up these sweet buns, boy.” He cooed lecherously, then smacked one then the other butt cheek in rapid succession, back and forth. He then stopped and cupped both my cheeks with his hands.
“Yeah, not much of a cock on you boy, but you got a nice little can there.” He roughly fondled my butt cheeks, clasping each globe and shaking them.
“A real man can have all sorts of fun with a rump like this.” He threatened as he squeezed and kneaded my buttocks in his large, gnarled hands before resuming his steady beat of blows.
I wailed and went limp as he continued punishing me for what felt like an eternity. Stopping and starting, pausing to examine his work or simply play with my upturned backside.
It felt like my butt was on fire, and each slap stung agonizingly. My face was flush and I was sweating profusely.
Melvin grabbed my hair and forced me to look up at him, at the cruel old man giving me a bare bottom spanking.
“Who’s your Daddy, boy?” Melvin demanded, his face lowered to mine.
“You are, Sir!” I called out obediently, hoping that cravenly accepting of his authority over me would expedite the end of this painful lesson.
“Say it!” He barked.
“You’re my Daddy!”
“Again!” He slapped my rear.
“Arrrgh! You’re my Daddy! You’re my Daddy!” I wailed. For the next fifteen minutes or so Mel battered my backside with slaps. The room echoed with the crack of his stinging hand on my pale flesh, and my agonized groans and yelps. Soon I lost all restraint, begging him for mercy, wordlessly babbling for an end to this torment. My vision was blinded with tears.
He then grabbed my sweat-soaked hair and wrenched my head up, bringing his large, craggy face right up to mine.
“Who is your father?!” He demanded in a clear, booming voice.
“You are! You’re my father!” He brought his hand down on my butt cheeks five times, still holding my head up, cranking my neck back painfully.
“Who is your Daddy!” He yelled again, glowering at me.
“You are, Sir! You’re my Daddy!” I answered between pathetic sniffles. 10 more spankings had me begging him again, calling him Daddy. I implored him to relent ,again and again. Tell him he was my Daddy, my father. But my father was cruel and unsparing, a vengeful Old Testament patriarch.
“Who is your Daddy?” He bellowed, and punctuated his question with a ringing slap. I answered eagerly, howling.
“You’re my Daddy!” We began a painful call and response. Who is your Daddy? Who is your father? Over and over again I declared him my father. Renounced my own father and accepted him as my Daddy, my true father. He must have made me say if forty or fifty times. But still he brought his granite palm down on my cheeks. I was bawling like an infant.
“Please Daddy please!” My voice was not my own, but a high-pitched, desperate wail, like a little boy.
“Have you learned your lesson, little boy?” He asked in a mocking sing-song voice while continuing to paddle my cheeks with his large, hard hand.
“Yes Daddy! Yes Sir!” I gasped, panting between sobs. Finally he relented, staying his hand.
“Don’t you see? I’ve turned you back into that sniveling little boy that you’ve always been. You’re just my pathetic little boy now. I’ll always know what you really are.” He held my ear, twisting it painfully. I nodded obediently, then lowered my head down.
“Who is your father?” He asked in a quiet voice, calmly now. He stroked my sweat-soaked hair.
“You are, you’re my father.” I whispered. He grunted in satisfaction, wiping tears from my face. He gently stood me up and got up himself from his chair. He examined me standing before him, my naked body, face and chest red and flush with sweat. Still trembling from fear and emotional exhaustion. He placed his heavy hands on my shoulders as he inspected me. Melvin rubbed my shoulders and looked me up and down.
“Thats’ a good boy. No more fight left in you, is there? No more man left in you now, just a little boy, right son?” He tenderly took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look him in the eye as I nodded bashfully in agreement. I certainly didn’t feel like a man at the moment. Standing stark naked before him, face wet with tears, my bared backside still burning, my penis shriveled, cowering in fear. Completely defeated. He smiled at me in triumph, wiping some of the tears from my cheeks. He cleared his throat.
“Petey, are you a man, or are you just a little boy?” He asked me in a firm tone of voice. I knew what I had to say.
“Daddy, I’m not a man, I’m just a little boy.” He sighed contentedly, gratified and radiating pride. All the while he stared at me intently.
“Good boys kiss their Daddy’s on the lips, don’t they, boy?” His face was inches from mine, like a pre-fight stare down. I looked at his large, moist red lips and the uneven teeth grinning at me wolfishly.
“Yes, Daddy.” I grimaced. Did this evil old ghoul really want me to kiss him? His warm breath ran over my face each time he exhaled. He stroked my cheek gently, then ran his fingers through my hair.
“Go ahead, kiss your Daddy now.” His voice was sweet, like he was talking to a young child, but his stare was cold and hungry.
I leaned forward to the big man and gingerly brought my lips to his. I kissed him daintily, and he took the opportunity to dab his tongue all over my lips, wetting them with his spittle.
“That’s my sweet boy.” He moaned and bestowed another long, wet kiss on my lips. The warmth of his mouth against mine, his nostrils blowing hot air on my face overwhelmed me. His large, rough hands seized my bare hips and held me close to him. His full trousered crotch ground into my naked body. His big boner grinding insistently against my naked hard-on, asserted itself on mine. The chasteness but intimacy of the kiss made my head swim. When he finally released me, I felt that my lips were wet with his saliva.
I looked at a wall clock over his shoulder, the same I had checked before he put me over his lap. In a mere thirty minutes, the man had broken me.
He then walked to a corner of the room as I stood frozen in place. Looking down at the floor at my 5 1/2 inch erection.
“You ever have an enema, boy?” I looked over and he was extracting a large red rubber bag from a duffel bag. The bag had a long clear nozzle. I knew what it was, what it was for, my stomach plunging. I knew what he was going to do to me
“No… no Sir.” I gulped.
“Well, Daddy says you’re gonna get a big old enema right up your tukus. How’s that sound, kiddo?” He watched me intently, smug grin on his face, daring me to challenge him. Daring me to refuse this further indignity. He stepped closer into my space, bringing his face up to mine.
“Yes, Daddy.” My eyes were fixed on the floor in defeat. He guffawed at my utter subordination. My total lack of backbone. It felt like he was stamping all over whatever masculine dignity I once had.
“That’s what I like to hear, kiddo.” He patted my cheek condescendingly, then cupped my whole jaw in his large hand and laughed in my face. He squeezed my cheeks together, forcing my mouth open, and I heard a sickening rasping sound well up in the back of Mel’s throat.
I watched as his cheeks convulse and he spat an enormous, thick green loogie right into my mouth. It was the size of an egg, and it instantly filled my whole mouth. I shuddered with revulsion, and he closed my lips, forcing me to keep it on my palate. He watched intently as I fought every instinct to try to spit it out, and instead forced myself to swallow it. The slick, slimy thing oozed down my esophagus. I cried a few more tears as it entered my belly, Mel watching on with manic delight.
“That’s a good wimp.” He patted my cheek again in mock praise.
Melvin grabbed my ear and twisted, roughly yanking my head down to his waist level so that my neck and shoulders were forced down awkwardly as he dragged me to his bedroom. I watched my bare feet stumble along behind Melvin, who was still in his full suit and brown florsheims. I gasped and sputtered as he pulled me along by my ear like a naughty boy. He released me, then placed a large towel down on his bed and beckoned me over.
“Lay your tummy down right here. That’s a boy.” He left me and went to the bathroom. I listened as he filled the bag from his bath tub for what felt like forever. I stared at the wall waiting like a like a little boy ordered to stand in the corner. Only I was lying on stomach, bare ass naked.
He came back in the room and I heard a metal clank as he hooked the the big red bag from one of the bed posts. He stood behind me and grabbed my ankles, spreading my legs open. I gasped as he jammed the mercifully lubricated nozzle into my hole, and pushed it in a few inches into my rectum.
I had played around with kinky stuff before but never done anything this crazy. It was all moving so fast, and I knew there was no way to stop the train I was on. No way Mel would let me put an end to his cruel games. And despite the impending sense of doom, I wanted to see where this strange old man would take me.
“OK here it comes, boy.” I took a breathe. Almost instantly I felt one of the oddest sensations I’d ever experienced as the water began gushing inside of me. It was the indescribable reverse of the relief that one feels while evacuating their bowls – instead, my insides were being invaded by a rush of warm water, filled with a deluge. It was not immediately unpleasant, and I felt the growing pressure against my prostrate stiffen my little prick against the towel. Soon the sensation became more and more overwhelming.
I began sweating intensely. I panted like a dog as cramps began wracking my torso. As I felt my belly swell, a pain spread throughout, as my growing gut pushed down uncomfortably upon the bed. Melvin grabbed my shoulders and waist, and had me lift my stomach up so that I was on my hands and knees. This eased the pressure slightly, but now I could see my ridiculous image in the mirror on the dresser across from the bed. My whole body was glistening with perspiration and I was beet red.
“Oooh your belly’s getting big, boy.” He whistled as he rubbed his hand over my sweat-soaked, swollen stomach. This gut-wrenchingly obscene anal humiliation blurred my vision with tears, but I could see that he was right. My stomach had expanded and hung low below me.
“Almost done. Almost full. A full gallon for my boy.” Melvin patted my bare backside as he fiddled with the bag. He then had me sit up so I was just on my knees, and ran his large, rough hands over my belly. I moaned as my body was wracked by cramps. The tube was removed from my rear-end and he yanked my hair, pulling my head back, forcing me to look into a full size mirror facing the bed. My stomach was immensely swollen, a great sweaty white ball gut.
“Don’t you spill a drop now, Petey boy!” He warned, slapping my ass. I winced, clenching my cheeks, willing myself to keep it all in.
“Look at that… your belly’s enormous!” The old man crowed incredulously and slapped my butt, shaking me.
“You’ve become a fat boy, Bobby!” He squeezed my full stomach roughly, pinching with his fingers as he roughly jiggled the sweat-soaked flesh.
“Why, you look like a pregnant sow.” He kept feeling my belly up, his voice dripped with amused derision as our eyes met in the mirror. He brought his face close to mine and snorted loudly like a boar, making me flinch. He laughed at my wimpy reaction. He grabbed my ears and yelled.
“Soooeeeeeeey!!” He laughed wildly as I trembled from his abuse. He slapped my backside again
“You look just about ready to give birth, sweetheart.” He slapped my distended belly and I yelped in pain. Next he pulled me head up by my hair, leaned in, and whispered conspirationally.
“Petey boy, do you happen to need to use the potty?”
“Yes, please Daddy!” I abjectly begged, beginning to step up from the bed before Mel firmly kept me planted in place.
“Hmmm, no not just yet. I think you just better hold that there for a bit longer.” I struggled to stay up on all fours, my insides churning painfully. Mel hummed to himself, drawing out my ordeal.
“Petey boy, between the two of us, who would you say is the better man?”
“You Sir! You are! You’re the better man, you’re the better man. You’re the only man! I’m just a boy.” I quickly sputtered out.
“Oh I know it, boy. But I want to know that you know it.”
“I know you’re the better man. I know you’re the better man, Sir!” He sat beside me on the bed where I was still on all fours, resting his heavy arm on the small of my back.
“Hmm… why don’t you give me let’s say 20 reasons why I’m a better man than you. Why I’m more of a man than you, boy. If you stop or if you stall, or say anything redundant than we’re going to add another liter of water up your rear and give you an extra thirty minutes.” He slapped my bottom for emphasis.
“You’ve… you’ve got a bigger cock than me. You’re stronger than me! You’re smarter than me! You’re more experienced than me! You’re a better lawyer than me! You’ve richer than me!” I watched myself in the mirror as I lavished him with praise, my guts wracked with painful cramps. I was dripping sweat and trembling from the intestinal agony. My mind raced for compliments- what did Mel want to hear?
“You’re tougher than me. You’ve got bigger balls than me. You’ve braver than me. You’re… you’re better at fucking than me. You’re more intimidating than me. You’re more confident than me!”
“Keep it coming.”
“You’re better at sports than me. You’re dick stays harder than me. You’re a better man than me, please, please, please!
“Well that sure was nice of you to say, boy. And every word of it true.” I collapsed, falling onto my chest face forward in the bed, hugging my cramping sides.
“Oh didn’t you need to use the bathroom, Peter?” I stood up as quickly as I could, my head spinning. Mel took my shoulders.He helped me walk there, like I was drunk or injured, which is not far from how I felt.
He led me to the bathroom and sat me down on the toilet. He stood right outside the bathroom, and I reached for the door. Melvin slapped my hand.
“Nope, not a chance young man. Door stays open. There’s no hiding anything from Daddy.” And so I reached a new low that day, as a man, a man old enough to my father, watched from a few feet away as I expelled a gallon from my guts.
With each rude sound he cackled or cheered me on derisively. I moaned balefully as each painful discharge wracked my insides with cramps. I held my sides and bent into my knees- my fingers slipped off my sweat soaked waist, ankles. He hooted and laughed as I expelled the enema. I felt like I would die of shame, being observed in this state.
“That’s it boy. All out! Get it all out.” He encouraged me as I closed my eyes and tried to push all the water out.
He patted my head, ruffled my hair. Slapped my back or rubbed my shoulder like a coach. All while I was engaged in the most private of acts, and in agony. It felt so wrong him being a part of this, touching me and talking to me as I emptied my bowels. I wanted to push him out and close the door but I was far too weak. I just let him manhandle me until I was finally done, collapsed on top of the pot, panting.
“Great job champ. Now hit the shower.” I pulled myself off of the toilet and hobbled to the shower, grateful for the chance to clean myself. I closed my eyes under the stream. I slowly turned so that the water would soak my traumatized back side.
Mid-way through my shower, Melvin, now shirtless, invaded the bathroom again. He had stripped down to his boxers, a big, wide-waisted old-fashioned pair, red and white stripes. They looked like a size 38 waist, so much bigger than any I could ever wear. He was getting items out of a medicine cabinet, and with his back to me I was stunned by how hairy he was.
His body was coated in wiry gray hair, even his shoulders and back were matted. He had a wide beer gut and manboobs, all covered in a thick pelt. While in the past I would have found his body off-putting, Mel had exerted so much power over me, had brought me so low in relation to him, that his hairiness and girth seemed impressively manly, potent. He had fucked with my head so deeply that I was in awe of him. He looked like king to me.
He entered the shower brandishing a disposable razor and shaving cream. Mel moved my body so I was out of the shower stream, cornering me against the wall. He set the razor down on the tub and menacingly shook the can of shaving cream, then sprayed a blast on my chest. It felt like he was vandalizing me with graffiti, an X across my entire torso. He then put down the shaving cream and began rubbing the shaving cream over my skin.
I felt like a weakling, letting him lather up my entire body – arms, legs, a generous heaping around my crotch and stomach, knowing that I was about to allow him to shave off my body hair. He took his time, humming to himself. He filled his hands with a heap of shaving cream and dug them into my armpits, He patted a large amount of shaving cream on both of my pecs, rubbed it in and gratuitously fondled my chest and nipples, then got to work with his razor. First my chest was shaved. In truth there was not that much hair for him to take a way, but he methodically stripped away what was there, scraping the light brown hair around my nipples and the cleft between my pectorals.
As he washed it away, I looked down at my newly nude breasts. I had started growing my chest hair at the tail of end high school. I remembered being proud of the first few sprouts I got, initially in the cleft between my pecs, and then spreading it out into a light “X.” More than any other bit of body hair, that had made feel proud, like a man. I thought of how it felt being shirtless in public with hair on my chest, like I was declaring my maturity, my manhood. Now it was gone, and my chest was smooth and boyish again. I felt the loss it.
Next on the chopping block was the happy trail that ran down my belly. He shaved away the hair on my forearms, then had me lift my arms over my head and like an obedient little kid I let him shave my arm pits. He crowded into my space for this task, and my gaze was dominated by his hairy back and the thickets of fur that coated his shoulders up to the nape of his neck. The hirsute ape of a man was stripping me of all my body hair. He even shaved my legs!
Mel cackled constantly as he worked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as he denuded my long, muscular legs of man hair. He seized my bare thigh and ran his fingers up and down my leg.
“Feel these nice smooth legs.” The hairless skin was extremely sensitive, and I gasped as he fondled me, which sent him into another bout of cruel laughter.
Finally there was the modest bush above my dick. I “manscaped” so my balls were already shaved. He took my pecker head in between his thumb and fore finger and examined it.
“This little dinky should definitely not have any man hair on it. It should be just as smooth as a little boy’s shmeckle, shouldn’t it, Petey?” He looked at me for assent.
“Yes, Daddy.” He then dabbed my pubes with scoops of shaving cream and methodically sheared them away. He shaved the underside of my balls, and then held me glans in his fingers to clear the hair at the base of my shaft. Last he took away the modest main of my pubic bush. I looked down in shock at a groin I hadn’t recognize since prepubescence. The bare skin made my penis look even smaller, somehow.
“Ooh, almost forgot a spot.” He turned me around in the shower, had me bend over and spread my cheeks and unceremoniously swiped away the hair between my crack with his razor. I gasped at the feeling of the metal in such a tender spot but entrusted myself to Mel and let him do it to me. He turned off the water and had me step out of the shower.
“Now look at that. As smooth as a baby’s ass.” Melvin’s fat fingers ran over the slick skin of my hairless crotch. He fondled every part of me that he had shaved, grazing and and caressing my bare chest, digging into my hairless pits, feeling my shaven legs and arms, and casually cleft his index finger between my butt cheeks. The sensation of newly smooth skin, skin that had not been hairless since I was 12, felt so strange. I just stood there and let him feel me up. He moaned in approval as he squeezed and stroked my pink, shorn skin.
He sighed with satisfaction and smiled with cruel pride at his work, then vigorously dried me with a towel, like a father drying his young son after a bath. He even rubbed some kind of moisturizer all over my body. Mel led me to the mirror in his bedroom again, where I had watched myself take the enema. He beamed at me, meeting my gaze in the reflection.
“Petey, with your little schmeckle and no body hair, you look you haven’t gone through puberty yet!” He grabbed the lobe of my ear and wiggled it as he made me look at my new, smooth body. He said it so gleefully, he was so delighted by my unmanning.
I couldn’t recognize the man in the mirror. No, not a man, a boy. I looked weak and under-developed, pale and trembling. Mel had truly turned me back into a boy.
“Maybe an 11 year old boy or so? A little prepubescent virgin boy?” Mel ran his big hand over my chest and stomach, up and down. Still holding me by my ear, his other callused palm groped my hips, my legs. I was shocked by the sight of all the bare skin. I had never felt more naked.
Mel had a point. Without pubes, chest hair, or even leg and arm hair, I really did look younger than my 32 years. He slapped my traumatized backside.
‘Don’t you agree, Petey sweetheart?” He folded my ear lob painfully between his fingers and shook my head, glaring at me in the mirror, a warning edge to his voice.
“Yes, Sir.” I croaked out, head painfully lowered as he continued to crush my ear.
“Then say it, kiddo.” His large hand collared the back of my neck as he forced me to look at myself in the mirror. The contrast between our bodies was mind-blowing. I was lean, tautly muscled, my penis shrunken in fear and my body completely hairless. I looked under-developed, about as harmless as a 13 year old boy. His tight hand on my neck had me hunched over bit so that I appeared significantly shorter than him as well. Mel’s broad, wide hips, shoulders, big hairy beer gut and chest all dwarfed my dimensions. His imposing barrel chest and stomach, his broad, furry shoulders, the large bulge in his boxer shorts- everything about him was virility and sexual threat. My skin was pale and smooth, his tan and impossibly hairy. In every way I was smaller than him, slight. Even his big furred feet dwarfed mine.
“I look like a little prepubescent boy!” It was the truth. His smile widened with pleasure- my saying made it true, irreversible.
“Compared to you, Daddy, I look like a little prepubescent boy!” I added, and he grinned at my gratuitous self-debasement.
“And are you a virgin?” He demanded. Suddenly he slapped my left ass cheek, which still burned from the long, brutal spanking.
“Yes, yes I’m a virgin. I’m just a virgin.” I willingly slandered myself, disavowed my sexual maturity. He stared into my eyes and my mind-raced. Melvin was so deep inside my head.
“You’ve never stuck this thin little pecker in anyone, have you boy?” He was holding my penis in his forefinger and thumb, waggling it in front of the mirror. I noted with shame that his large fingers dwarfed my little dink.
“No Sir, never!” I lied for him again. It was untrue, but it felt right. Mel was turning me back into a virgin just like had turned me back into a boy. I looked at my penis in this strange man’s hand as he shook it around mockingly. I saw it as Mel saw it- just a tiny, virginal pink penis that had never penetrated anyone. A joke, an impotent little toy. A boy’s penis. Short, thin and innocent. A boy’s little “shmeckle” as he called it. I had never used it like a man uses his cock. I threw myself at the preposterous thought, that I truly was a virgin. For some reason it intoxicated me, to believe that I was every bit the sexless, fearful wimp as Mel made me declare myself.
“Well, I think the tiny thing would just slip right out if you tried, don’t you boy?” With the hand not fondling my penis he smacked my butt once more and I cried out in the agreement.
“Yes Sir, it would just slip out!” I leaned into him, let him hold me up, his strong arm around my waist.
“You’ve never squirted your seed in anyone.” He began squeezing my pecker painfully.
“No, no Sir!” I yelped.
“Are you a virgin, boy?!” He spanked both my ass cheeks and I yelped.
“Yes, yes Sir! I’m a virgin, I’m just a virgin, Sir.”
“A soft, little-dicked virgin.” He held my shoulders and turned me towards him so that I was looking at his face.
“What are you, Petey?”
He made me repeat it again and again – that I was a virgin, that I was just a prepubescent boy, that my penis was smaller than an 8 year old boy’s. Again and again, louder and louder, in different increasingly absurd permutations, I had to belittle myself, repudiate my status as a man, declare my identity as a tiny-dicked virgin boy. He took out his phone again and recorded the abdication of my manhood. It felt like a forcible religious conversion or conscription into a rival faction, but he was making me betray myself, betray my self-conception as a sexually capable grown man. Recording a video of me confessing that I was virgin, over and over gain.
“A virgin for life, right Petey!” He spanked me twice.
“Yes Daddy, a virgin for life! A virgin for life!” He grunted and lowered his phone.
“Never forget, this is who you really are, deep down.” He growled as he prodded my chest. I nodded bashfully.
Mel had me grab a ruler from the dresser and jerk my penis to its full hardness. He seized the ruler and my throbbing pink erection. 5.2 inches.
“Jesus Christ, just 5 inches. And how tall are you, boy?”
‘6’2, Sir.”
“On a tall boy like you it looks even smaller. Pathetic! Peter, you have a boy’s penis.” He proclaimed solemnly and definitively.
“Hold up the ruler to your ridiculous little hard-on, boy.” He snapped several photos of me, memorializing both my face and meager manhood.
“Can’t wait to show the fellas at the courthouse these.” He crowed and winked at me menacingly.
“I bet you’d like to see what a real man’s penis looks like.” He had a cocky smile on his face. I nodded meekly and he pushed down on my shoulders.
He had me get on his knees and reverently extract his fat prick from his boxers. I hesitated for a moment, realizing I had not touched another guy’s penis since I was 12, screwing around with my best friend. This was so different. I inhaled deeply and took it in my hand. It was warm to the touch and soft. It was also the largest penis I had ever seen in real life. Vein-covered and an ugly crimson. It made me panic, the thought that I would have to serve it.
“Give it a kiss.” Closing my eyes, I brought my head forward and gingerly kissed his crimson glans. I felt the salty taste on my lips and smelled a strong musk from inside his boxers. It felt so strange to hold such a large and thick penis, to feel it pulse in my hands.
“It’s so big, Sir.” He laughed as a I praised his manhood shamelessly.
Mel stepped out of his boxers and shook his cock in my face tauntingly. I took in the sight. Below his heavy belly, his wild, dense gray pubic bush, his pendulous, low-hanging testicles, each the size of a jumbo egg and coated in fur, and the thick, flaccid hose hanging down to the mid-point of his wide hairy thighs.
He grabbed the bag of my head and thrust his hardening cock down my throat. He pumped it for a few strokes then released my hair and pulled his cock out.
“That big fat cock is gonna fuck your ass, boy.” He stated matter-of-factly. My stomach quaked with fear but I noticed that my little todger was achingly hard at the prospect.
“Turn around boy, face the mirror.” He positioned me in front of the dresser an I saw my vulnerable, shaven body in the vanity. His large hands seized my rear end and hips .
“What a peach. What a sweet peach.” Mel sat on the bed and had me stand above him as he fondled my backside. I felt his warm breath tickling my bare butt cheeks as he continued to fawn over and roughly fondle my “peach.”
His gnarled, rough old hands spread my butt cheeks and wrench open my most private of places.
“And a perfect pink little hole.A perfect pink little hole and it’s mine all mine.” I gasped when his large tongue darted between my crack. I stumbled and braced myself on the dresser in front of the bed, holding myself up as Mel’s big hands kept my cheeks spread open wide as his mouth attacked my ass. He lapped and dabbed with gusto, it made my legs shake and I heard myself moaning, long and high.
“Mmm I love Petey’s peach but my favorite part is his little peach pit.” He babbled lecherously behind me between sweeping strokes of his tongue.
Mel was an expert at this and it brought out a womanliness in me that both shamed and thrilled me. I felt so weak and passive, so unmanly accepting this shameful pleasure from this vile old man, a man I hated. I moaned with abandon, and he paused his efforts and goaded me on mockingly, encouraging me to give into the shameful pleasure. His five-o-clock shadow tickled my tender spot and made my knees tremble. I looked in the mirror on the dresser – my whole body was flush and red, and my little dick was rock hard. And Mel was behind me, lewdly grinning.
“That’s it, girly girl. You looove having your little pussy eaten out, don’t you, sweetheart?” I moaned in the affirmative, loud and embarrassingly high-pitched, and he chuckled before returning to his work. I felt every bit of strength, any resistance, drain from my body. Running down my trembling legs into a useless puddle at my feet. The ecstasy was enervating.
I felt like with each skillful lapping of his huge, rough tongue, I was becoming less of a man, and more vulnerable to him. Like he was somehow licking up all of my manliness, leaving me with nothing. Or that this whole afternoon, Mel had methodically stripped off each piece of my protective male armor and left me just the cowering, naked weakling I am underneath.
At last he retracted his head from my rear and leaned back on the bed, but his hands remained firmly clasped around my waist. I saw in the mirror his cruel, wolfish grin. He was clearly savoring his triumph over me. From under the bed he opened a small vial and quickly added a large amount of lubricant to my hole, which was already sopping wet from his humiliating attentions.
“I’m gonna put it in you, boy.” He said flatly as he jacked himself off a bit to his full hardness. I looked behind me and gasped at the thick red rod poking up from his boxers. His flaccid penis had impressed me but his hard-on terrified me. The old man was hung like a horse.
He then pulled me down onto his giant flared cock. For such an old guy he was surprisingly virile. I watched in the mirror as his large hands grabbed my bare flanks and slowly but surely forced me to take a seat. My face contorted in agony as his big round glans breached my hole. I gasped in pain and held me there, pierced on his bulbous cock head.
“That’s it, Petey. Get comfortable, boy.” Mel encouraged me, kneading my ass cheeks as he held me up.
“Breathe, boy. Get used to it. Your sweet little ass and my big old dick are about to get real familiar. Very well acquainted hahaha.” He spoke his slurred, wet words directly into my ear then cracked himself up. I closed my eyes groaned and tried to force open my hole for his invading cock, his cruel laughter filling my head.
“Atta boy. Down… you… go…” Mel laughed as he let gravity take control and I began sliding down his pole, moaning balefully. The pain was immense. I closed my eyes and tried to take deep breathes. From my experiences being pegged by an ex-girlfriend, I knew the pain would subside eventually, but I feared that such a large cock was going to actually injure me. All the while Mel was behind me, molesting my naked body with his rough hands and cackling at my pathetic plight.
I looked down at my chest, where his fat, hairy fingers were fondling my pectorals and tweaking my nipples. His hairy hands having his way with my freshly shaven chest. It was not a beautiful woman who was violating me, not even someone who cared about me. It was a vile old man, a fiendish and revolting scumbag who hated me. A man who wanted to weaken me.
“Down… down… down…” He had seized my hips and was slowly grinding me down onto his pole. And it really felt that with each inch lower on his cock I was being lowered to a new degrading depth of emasculation and ruin.
Finally his brutal shaft bottomed out in me, there was no more territory for the conqueror to claim. It felt like a threshold had been crossed. The pain lessened to some extent, and I gave myself to his steady fucking, rotating my hips around on his lap. Fully impaled.
Melvin kept me sitting on his lap, laying my legs over his. Eventually my feet were atop his, and he began bucking his hips to fuck me, driving his hard cock deep up into my guts. His sweat-soaked, hairy body felt strange against my back, raking against my skin with each thrust. So close, stuck together. Banging into me with each push.
“You like sitting on Daddy’s lap, pussyboy?” Mel asked, drawing the last word out in his gravelly Brooklyn accent, and I moaned in affirmation. His big hands squeezed my sides and he roughly lifted me up and down on his cock. I was impressed by Melvin’s strength and vitality for being an older, out of shape man. He was throwing me around like a rag doll. Mel rubbed his hands up and down my sweat-soaked belly. He thrust his hips up steadily, keeping me in constant motion. My thin little staff bobbed around crazily with each push, like a booey in a storm.
I tried to keep up with him, pushing back on each thrust.
“Fuck yourself on it, boy. Get your little workout.” The big man leaned back further on the bed. I planted my feet on the mattress and propped myself with the arms. I began to lift myself up and down on his staff.
I looked at myself in the mirror. Mel had invaded my ass with his big ugly cock, and in response I was eagerly fucking myself on him. Giving it up to him. Lifting myself up and down with my arms and legs, springing up and down.
“You’re going to get Daddy’s babies in you belly, Petey. I’m gonna make you pregnant.” I looked at his hairy hands kneading my stomach and waist, and imagined it swelling with his seed. I imagine a swollen belly hiding my own dick from view.
He forcefully rubbed my belly up and down and glared at me in the mirror.
“Just like when I gave you that nice enema, only bigger. You’re belly’s gonna get so big when you’re carrying my son. When you’re pregnant with my son.” His tongue attacked my ear as he breathed his words into me.
He chewed and licked my ears as he continued to whisper insane threats about knocking me up, how I was going to have the honor of giving him ten sons who would grow up to be real men with real cocks like his. He promised to impregnate me. Force ten proud virile sons into my body. The hormones would change my body forever, shrink my little dink to nothingness, widen my hips, give me real tits, size Ds. A new ridiculous indignity, a new obscene transformation, baring this man’s many children.
“I’m going to breed you like a sow. Why, you’ll have a bigger belly than me. Pregnant.” He fondled my stomach lewdly as he promised to knock me up.
In response I widened my legs further, so that his cock could burrow deeper in me. I willed my body to receive him, to honor him. To give him his ten sons.
Eventually Mel rolled me around so that I was on all fours on his bed. He pushed me around into position, never taking his prick from my rear. He picked up his pace, pounded me flat into the bed, so that I was crushed beneath him. He was fucking me into a puddle. With each thrust I felt weaker and weaker. Less of a man.
I buried my head in a pillow and wailed as Mel increased his brutal pace. The sound of his big hairy balls slapping against my ass filled the room. His forceful lovemaking had the whole bed shaking, the headboard slamming against the wall.
“Take it, you faggot! Take it you goddamn pillow biter!” Mel was pistoning now, slamming me down. It felt like he was going to break the bed.
Mel bellowed triumphantly as he came. His whole body shuddered and his entire 250 lbs collapsed on me. His thrust slowed to a stop but he remained deep inside me, depositing his seed. I felt his cock and balls pulse at they delivered his semen into my body. We were both panting. His pendulous stomach crushed me into the bed.
I turned my head to the right and looked at the clock on the wall. Melvin had fucked me for over 45 minutes! I had never lasted anywhere near that long with a girl. I tried to move from underneath him but was completely trapped. I layer there, docile under the bigger man. Feeling his sweat drip from his heaving form to mine. He eventually lifted himself up a bit, turning his head to mine but remaining docked inside of me. Sweat from his face dropped onto mine.
“My good little butt-bottom boy.” He cooed into my ear as he roughly squeezed, kneaded and prodded my butt cheeks with his large fingers. Melvin brought his lips to my mouth and forced his tongue in again for a long, demanding kiss. As I weakened in his arms and his tongue ran rampant through my mouth, it felt like he was sucking the energy from me, the life force.
Eventually he pulled out of me and stood up from the bed. He pressed his hands on the small of my back, telling me to stay put. Mel grabbed something from a drawer. He opened it, and I felt him pushing whatever it was against my upturned backside. He pushed it forcefully against my right buttock, some kind of stamp. He then released me and left the bedroom.
I carefully stepped off his bed on wobbling legs, and saw myself in his mirror. My neck and back was wreathed in his hickeys. The wetness between my legs was obscene. An enormous amount of Mel’s semen ran down my thighs. I watched as it seeped from my cheeks all the way past my knees, even reaching my ankles. I was coated in his thick white seed.
I found Mel in the living room, his big hairy feet standing atop my discarded suit. He had my wallet in his hands, looking at my license in his hands.
“River Street, huh? How close is that from here, counsellor?” Though I was still dazed from the marathon sodomy, his showing interest in where I lived made me nervous.
‘Uh, about a half hour walk.” He raised his eyebrow at me with mock disbelief.
“Daddy!” I added hastily.
“Half an hour, huh. Good. Come here, Peteyboy.” Mel grabbed my ear, twisting it once more, and dragged me to the window in the living room, my head bent down.
“Look down there. See that dumpster in the alleyway?” The dumpster was directly beneath his window, one floor down.
“It’s for the Grand Szechuan. Stinky, stinky. I might just have tossed your keys in there when you were busy cleaning your pussy in the shower. I’m sure they’re still in there. But you’ll probably have to dig deep in all the rotten lo mien and dirty old duck bones.” He gleefully sucked on the words and my stomach turn with nausea. I shuddered. Mel laughed at the abject misery on my face and roughly shook my ear.
“But don’t worry Petey, you won’t get your nice suit dirty because you’re going to be digging around for them bare bottom naked!” My stomach dropped as I realized Melvin’s intent. He slapped my face, grabbed my ear again and pulled me towards his door. His voice raised to a thundering roar as he continued, opening his door.
“Oh no, you won’t be wearing a stitch. I’m keeping your clothes as a trophy. You get to walk home bare ass naked, boy!” He crowed as he yanked my neck and then threw me into the hallway. I stood stupidly in the doorway, bare ass naked.
“Now go on, boy. Get the fuck out of here.” He kicked my butt with surprising roughness, sending me to the floor in a heap. As I stared at the hallway carpet, I heard his door slam shut and lock behind me.
I thought for a second, realizing that he still had my phone and my wallet. It would be no use to beg for those now. No way this evil old man would have pity on me, as he seemed resolved to put me through one more ordeal.
Instead I scampered down the stairs and cautiously opened the door a crack, scanning the street. The sidewalk was empty. I ran out of the building and quickly ducked into the alley. The dumpster was much bigger up close, and deeper. As Mel had promised, the smell hit me at once.
I scanned the surface of the trash – it was mostly large black garbage bags, though there was visible grease pooled atop of them. My keys were nowhere to be found.
Tears welled in my eyes as I began my dreadful task. I leaned over the edge of the dumpster and thrust my upper body in, holding my nose as I began my search.
After ten minutes or so of shifting through the trash and offal, I began to panic. Seeing no other option, I cleared a space and daintily stepped into the dumpster one semen-coated leg at a time. I began flinging bags out of the way, rooting around for my keys desperately. I then crouched down so that I could lift each bag out of the way and look under them, in case the key had fallen below them. The smell was hellish, and I saw from my arms and hands how filthy I was getting, bits of food waste and putrid liquid getting on me. I felt like an animal, crawling through trash Mel’s amusement.
Suddenly I felt water on my shoulder – as if the situation could not get worse, now it was raining. I heard a familiar throaty laugh above me.
Two floors above me, Mel’s hips were thrust out of his open window, his large hairy gut hanging and big penis dangling free, pissing all over me. The sight was ridiculous and obscene, his white hairy midsection squeezed out the window, with his huge dong spraying his urine. From behind his window I saw him beaming down at me with that same toothy, evil grin.
His right arm emerged from out the window and he shook my keys at me like I was a dog. Not knowing what else to do, I stood still, petrified, letting him empty his bladder all over me. He moved his big hog to direct his stream up and down my body, from my hair down to my crotch. All the while he was cackling at me hysterically.
“You want these, boy?” He jangled the keys at me mockingly, laughing at the cruelty of his trick .
“Yes, please Sir!” I begged in as loud of a whisper as I could dare.
“Can’t hear ya, what was that?”
“PLEASE SIR!” I yelled, looking around the abandoned alley nervously.
“Open one of those bags. Do it, piggy.” My hands shaking , I grabbed the nearest trash bag and opened it up. The smell smacked me in the face. He had thrust a camera out of the window, and was filming my new degradation.
“Hold it high up over your head… and dump it out all over you.” Mel ordered in a sing-song voice above me.
I just stared at him, horrified. Sensing my hesitation he grew furious.
“Do it boy! Or I’m keeping your keys and calling the cops. Tell them there’s a little naked faggot pervert playing in the dumpster.”
Holding my breath, tears blinding my vision, I showered myself in the bag’s contents for Mel.
“Atta boy. Spread it all around. Spread it on your tummy. Get in in your armpits. Rub it into your hair.” Shuddering with revulsion I took handfuls from the bag, tucked it under my arms, rubbed it over my torso, patting it onto my head.
“Get it on your little dick. Jerk yourself off with it!” He ordered. I was sobbing now, and pumped my penis with a handful of slimy, decomposing Chinese food.
“Don’t cum boy, just whack it you little faggot. Give yourself a nice little chubby for your walk home.” I dropped my dick. He held his phone out of the window, zooming in to take pictures of me naked, covered in filth with a hard on.
“Good boy. Next time I might just make you eat some of that crap, too.” He threatened.
“Here you go, ya stupid shit.” He threw my keys down at me. His hoarse cackles echoed throughout the alley as I scrambled to catch them.
“Run that dumb ass home, boy.” I wiped the largest pieces of trash from my body and looked in every direction. I was so dumb, I had put myself into this ridiculous position. Let him do all of it to me. Eagerly stepped into my own destruction.
I fled. It was about 7pm, the sun had only just set. Though the rain made my journey miserable, I was grateful that it reduced the number of people on the street. I stuck to alleys, hugging the walls. I ran through parks, underpasses, keeping myself low to the ground anywhere to hide my shamefully naked, filth-covered body during my desperate sprint home. As I sprinted I could occasionally hear guffaws, laughter, angry curse words hurled at me. The pavement on my bare soles hurt but I tried to run as quickly as I could, holding my keys in my fist so hard I almost drew blood.
Finally home, I fled upstairs, terrified of a neighbor seeing me like this. I turned on my shower and stepped under, not even waiting for the temperature to adjust. I watched as a pool of ooze ran down my legs and feet into the drain.
I covered my body in soap over and over again. Shampooed and conditioned my hair three times total. I nervously turned my back to the shower and winced as it ran over my brutalized butt cheeks, and the aching hole between them that Mel’s enormous cock had had its way with. It was one of the longest showers I had ever taken. It was only after closing my eyes and laying my head against the wall for several minutes that I finally turned off the water and stepped out.
I gently toweled myself off and gingerly inspected my body. I stepped into my bedroom and gasped at the sight in the full length mirror. I couldn’t recognize myself.
First, the body hair I’d had since adolescence was all gone. I was newly shorn, prepubescent looking. My naked penis looked even more undeveloped and childlike without my bush. I looked paler, softer, more slender somehow. In just one afternoon, Mel had emasculated me completely. Almost feminized me, somehow. I looked weaker, less confident.
I turned to inspect my backside. Mel’s had more than made his mark- all across my cheeks were crimson handprints. It was plainly obvious that I had been spanked, by a man’s big hand. And then on my right buttock I saw something else. I approached the mirror to read it.
On my right butt cheek, in large, clear black block letters, outlined in a rectangle he had stamped “Melvin Krimholz, Attorney at Law.” I turned away from my rump and found that my penis was hard once more. My aching little dick. My throbbing little schmeckle. I kneeled, got on all fours to masturbate at the sight of the defeated, humiliated boy that Mel had made of me.