This story is a very over the top work of fantasy, and it contains extreme humiliation, ws, unsafe sex practices. Please don’t read if it’s not your cup of tea.
*****
The next few days I struggled to return to normalcy. I tried to focus on work. Went to the gym. I got a new phone, ordered a new credit card. But it was impossible to not think about what Mel had done to me.
He had stripped me, spanked me, shaved me, sodomized me. Stolen my clothes and my wallet, sent me home bare ass naked after making me root around a dirty alley and dumpster for my keys. And I had let him do this to me at every step. Given myself up to him entirely. I tried to put it out of my head, but my own body betrayed me with little reminders.
For instance, as I sat in my office chair each morning, I struggled to find a comfortable position – my rump was still bright red from the long, brutal spanking he had given me. A spanking that had destroyed all my resistance, left me red-faced and sobbing like a little boy.
My boss, Steve Kennedy, clamped down on my shoulder and said “What’s the matter son, ants in your pants?”
What’s worse, as a result of the 50 minutes of butt-fucking from Mel’s massive rod, using the bathroom was painful for the first two days, then noticeably strangle-feeling for three more. My nipples were an angry red, extremely sensitive and still raw, causing me to gasp if I touched them while getting dressed.
I could not recognize myself. Each time I saw my bare shaven body in the shower, so smooth and white, my stomach would drop and my face would redden. I spent a lot of time looking at myself naked in the mirror, both horrified and thrilled by my transformed body. Losing the coating of light brown hair that had covered my legs and arms, losing my chest air, pubes and even my armpit hair, had drastically changed my appearance. I felt that I looked younger, softer, weaker.
Even my hairless forearms were a reminder. My watch looked strangely feminine against my bare wrist. Shaking hands with men I was conscious of my dainty, hairless wrists in contrast to their manly, hairy wrists, and wondered if they noticed the stark difference. The difference between a man and a boy.
Mel had stripped me of all body hair below my ears. I was self-conscious at the gym, revealing my shaven limbs in my exercise clothes. I was still shocked each time I went to the urinal and pulled out my penis, as I was no longer greeted by the sight of the brown pubic bush I had had since puberty. Just a white strip of naked flesh, the same I had seen when I was a boy. Sometimes if a bathroom was crowded I would just go to a stall, squat to pee like a woman. As if I didn’t deserve to be up at the urinal with the real men and their full bushes.
I also felt deeply paranoid- could men perceive these changes in me? Were their friendly smiles actually knowing smirks? Did they know what Mel had done? I know it was ridiculous, and that the guy at the bodega didn’t know I had been butt-fucked. But in those following days I found it excruciating to look another man in the eyes. It was especially bad at the courthouse, as during my ordeal Mel had continuously joked and threatened me that he would be showing the photos and videos he took to the men there.
Worst of all, there was the horniness. I couldn’t stop thinking about his fat red cock. Its depth in me, its thickness. His rough hands squeezing my body, feeling all over me. The heat of his huge hairy form up against mine, consuming me. As awful as it was, I wanted him again.
Two days after the my visit to his apartment, my hard-on wouldn’t go away. After work I stripped down, set up on my bed with my laptop, moisturizer and tissues at the ready. I played a cuckold porn I favored. While I enjoyed the look of abject humiliation on the spectating cuckolds face, I felt little looking at the hotwife being seduced. I wanted it to be the cuckold being defiled, and not by the tanned, tattooed porn-perfect body of the bull, but by someone older and nastier. Someone like Mel. I entered the appropriate search terms and found a gay porn of a fat old Daddy violating a younger guy. I also decided that I was masturbating too much like a man. That Mel would not approve, if he knew. Using first my fingers and then the back end of a hairbrush I wet with my spit, in no time I was penetrating myself on all fours, humping the air, focusing on my backside more than my dick. I came all over the side of the bed where I slept, then fell down into my mess. I was baffled by the change Mel had made in me over only a few hours.
Five days after our meeting, he sat next to me on a bench as I read through a file. The presence of his big body next to mine made me shudder- he was pressed up against me even though there was plenty of space to his left. He patted my knee and I flinched at his touch.
“Morning counselor. Been keeping out of trouble?” I ignored him, eyes fixed to the paper in front of me. He leaned in close, whispering into my ear.
“I think you might need another bare bottom spanking, boy. I sure know I need another slice of that yummy peach pie.” He put his arm around my shoulder. I cringed as I let his arm rest there, its heft pinning me to my seat on the bench.
He showed his phone to me, hitting play on a video file. My stomach dropped as I watched myself bounce on his cock, butt naked, my red, flushed face clearly recorded on the mirror opposite of his bed. My little hard-on spinning around ridiculously with each of Mel’s manful thrusts. His phone seemed to be at full volume, amplifying his deep grunts and my high-pitched moaning. The contrast between our bodies was ridiculous. A big fat man and a mewling little bitch.
“Whenever I want it, I get it. Right?” I nodded meekly.
“Come to my place after work, or I’ll show this little video to Steve Kennedy. ” He ordered, invoking the name of my boss. My face flushed.
“6pm. We’re gonna have ourselves a party.” He left me sitting there, red-faced and rock hard in my trousers.
That evening I delivered myself to his apartment. Mel was sitting in his arm chair, wearing a bath robe, glass of whiskey in his hand. He peered at me through his eyeglasses.
“Strip.” He commanded. I quickly undressed without a word, folding my clothes in a neat pile atop my shoes, my 5-inch boner bobbing around ridiculously as I dropped my underwear.
He beckoned me over, and once I was within reach he threw my naked body over his lap. The big man positioned me where he wanted me, my upturned rear-end squarely on his lap, and he let loose with a rain of blows. Alternating between each cheek, he laid down about forty thunderous claps. At twenty I was wailing. I began to struggle and squirm in his grasp, crying out in anguish at each blow. This prompted him to laugh, pin me down, and spank me harder. He slowed down, then gave me 10 last ones at full force, hard as hell. I cried out pitiably at each one. Once again I had wet this man’s lap with my tears.
He stopped and kept me panting and sniffling pathetically over his lap as he grabbed something from the pocket of his robe.
I felt him pressing something against my right butt cheek, pushing it down firmly on the clammy, inflamed flesh of my buttock.
Finally he released me. I was covered in sweat and panting.
“I don’t care how old you are, boy. From now on you’re going to get a bare ass spanking every day of your damn life.” He proclaimed as I stood there, chastised, butt naked and rubbing my flaming red rear end. He took a noisy sip of his whiskey then continued.
“Are you my spanky boy for life, Peter?” He asked, his dark eyes drilling into mine.
“Yes Daddy… I’m your spanky boy for life.” I consented, lowering my head., wiping tears from my eyes.
“Good boy. Look at your little tuchus in the mirror. What do you see?” He pointed it at the wall-mounted mirror, and I turned my backside towards it
“Property of Melvin Krimholz, Attorney at Law.” I read the words in the mirror, the large block stamp he had marked on my rear end again.
“Whose name is on your rump?” He demanded, his eyebrow raised.
“Your name, Sir.” I answered quickly.
“Who owns you, boy.” His eyes narrow behind his spectacles.
“You own me, Sir. You own me.” I said eagerly.
Mel whipped open his robe. I took in the sight of his fat, flaccid cock. His soft dick was longer than my hard-on. It rested atop his big hairy balls, and was wreathed in a dense thicket of gray pubic hair. His penis was a dark crimson. I don’t think a minute had gone by over the last five days, since Mel had butt fucked me, that I had not thought of Mel’s manhood. I saw it every time I closed my eyes. He took his shaft in his rough hand, gesturing it toward me.
“This is the cock that owns your life. Get on your knees and worship it.” I knelt down and took his hardening penis into my mouth.
Mel fucked my mouth for about twenty minutes hour. He directed my head by clamping on my ears painfully, guiding my cranium like it was a sex toy. I gagged, I drooled, my chin and bare chest were soaking with my saliva and there was a pool on the floor between my knees. At times I was worried I would pass out from lack of air but Mel didn’t stop or slow his rape of my mouth.
The only respite was when he yanked my head off of his shaft and ordered me to lick and suck on his enormous testicles. I could only take one in my mouth at a time. He humped my face with his nut sack, smearing his hairy ball bag against my mug. The pubes on his sac were even longer than his bush and many ended up in my mouth. But soon enough he plunged his fat 9 inch cock back down my throat and pulled the back of my head into his crotch.
After he came with a roar, he pushed me off of him and I collapsed to the floor.
“Get back on my putz, I gotta take a leak.” He ordered, and I knelt back up to wrap my lips around his softening cock just in time to catch a mouthful of his warm, acrid urine.
Mel sighed contentedly, patting my head absently as he pissed. His big hairy belly pressed against my forehead.
“Ain’t that convenient. Peter Joseph Meechum, my own personal piss-pot. Must make your father proud, huh? A walking urinal.” He patted my cheek condescendingly. I struggled to down every drop, fearful of the consequences of spilling on his floor. I felt my belly swell with his piss.
“Go the bathroom and clean yourself up. I’m taking your pussy. And leave the door open!” In his bathroom I found the red bag hanging from the shower curtain. I readied myself for another buggering. When I emerged from the bathroom he called me into his bedroom. He was reclining against some pillows, jerking his fat hog off in his hand, whiskey bottle beside him on the night table.
“Come to Daddy.” Mel pulled me onto the bed with him and brought my face to his for a long, lapping kiss. He held me atop him, sitting me on his lap just above his crotch – Mel outweighed me by at least 70 pounds so I know my weight was nothing to him. My shaven, hairless body was tickled by his copious fur. I swooned in his embrace as his tongue explored my mouth unchallenged. As when he had kissed me before, it felt like the man was eating me. He freed me from the kiss then poured an overwhelming amount of whiskey down my throat, forcing me to drink. He took a swig himself then again made me swallow. All told he had me drink almost half the bottle, and my head was swimming, my face flush from the alcohol. Mel had gotten me drunk.
Outside of his bedroom the summer sun was still high. As he made out with me he would nuzzle and chew on my neck, biting sharply and sucking. He was giving me hickeys. His greedy hands squeezed and fondled me, tweaking my nipples, one finding its way between my legs, ignoring my genitals and plunging between my cheeks.
Soon he flipped me over, pinning me to the bed. His fingers continued to diddle my backside as he sucked on my chest, biting around my nipples and attacking them with his tongue.
“Oh yeah, Daddy loves those sweet titties. My little itty-bitty titty-boy.” His unshaven face tickled my bare chest as he licked and bit my breasts, sucking on them. It occasionally hurt but trapped beneath him, buzzed from the whiskey, I just let him attack my chest as his hand plundered my ass. I looked down to see sharp red bite marks circling my nipples.
He laughed at his handiwork then arched his back over me. He took a long pull of his whiskey, his cheeks swelling, but instead of drinking it he kept it in his mouth. He then brought his lips to mine and spit the mouthful of booze into my mouth, again forcing me to drink. I accepted it, willing myself to swallow the harsh liquor down my throat. It burned all the way down, then percolated warmly in my stomach.
“Drink up, boy! I’m gonna get you drunk as a skunk!” He tipped the bottle and poured it into my mouth, cackling into my red face as I sputtered, struggling to down the heavy dram.
“Another round, titty-boy?!” He barked, then took a big sip himself, filling his mouth. He swilled it around, making a show of his bulging cheeks, pushing it from side to side in his mouth. He opened his mouth, gargling it like it was Listerine. He then came in for another kiss, locking lips, and spit a shot of his backwashed whiskey into my mouth. I swallowed, then belched, groaning balefully. My vision was spinning slightly and my face, throat, chest and belly felt feverishly hot.
“That’s it boy. You’re my cheap date. Now you’re ready to get butt-fucked.” Mel put a pillow under my rump to lift my hips up. He then retrieved a vial off of his night table and plunged his hand between my cheeks, oiling my nether regions. He took his stiff cock in his hand, jerking it a few times as it rose to its full length. He added some oil to his hard-on, and positioned the plumb-sized head between my buttocks.
Grabbing my hips, he began to breach my defenses, sawing his dick into me. He was patient, going slow, inch by inch. While it definitely hurt, the excessive amount of booze Mel had forced me to drink meant that I was a little more brave than I would be otherwise, pushing my hole back against his invading cock. I had always heard that was what you were supposed to do when getting fucked up the ass- you should push back on it like you were evacuating your bowels. There was a fiendish twinkle in his eyes when he realized what I was doing, inviting him in like this.
“That’s my sweet pussyboy! You’re really throwing down the welcome mat for your Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?” He said, laughing as he bottomed out in me, bucking his hips, banging into me. His big belly and heavy chest shook with each thrust. Soon the the old bull had worked up a sweat. I wrapped my legs around his waist like a woman. I then surprised myself by lifting my hands off the bed and grabbing both of Mel’s huge ass cheeks, squeezing them, pulling him into me. The way a woman holds onto her man while he’s fucking her. In my horny, drunken state, I wanted to be a woman for Mel. I wanted to be a whore for him.
“Yeah, that’s it, pussyboy! You want this big fat cock in you, don’t you! You want to get fucked by your big fat man!!” He roared with laughter and delight, fucking me harder as I moaned approvingly. I continued to lovingly cup his ample buttocks, feeling the hair on his cheeks, the sweat of his clammy flesh. I bucked my hips back into him, meeting his pounding crotch, in time to his strokes.
“Please fuck me Daddy.” I warbled, my voice slurred slightly.
“Gimme that peach pie, boy!” He yelled as he rammed me.
His face was red from the exertion, sweat pouring down from his forehead. His big, broad barrel chest and pendulous gut was covered in sweat, too. It was shiny with sweat. Butt fucking me like this was probably the most exercise the big boar had gotten in years. His big pale belly, covered in swirling gray hair, shook hypnotically with each thrust. It was slick with perspiration. Just inches from my face.
I arched my shoulders up off of the bed, and brought my head forward so that it connected to the top of that big sweaty belly. I closed my eyes and I began to lick hungrily, licking up the salty sweat on his belly and around his chest, my tongue scraping over all his dense hair.
He grabbed the back of my head, forcing me to stay there, laughing triumphantly. He dragged my head over his big, hairy chest. I continued to eagerly lash my tongue along his fur-covered breasts, drinking the sweat from his skin. He wiped his sweaty belly and chest with my face like it was a washrag. He turned his shoulders and leaned down, forcing my face into his armpit, burying it in the steaming, hairy cleave. I lapped at it obediently, my tongue twirling the long, thick hair, his sweat pouring into my mouth. He then had me suck his other pit. All the while Mel kept banging into me, knocking into me, driving his big hard on in and out of my guts.
“Oh yeah, buttboy! I think you’ve earned yourself another drink.” He crowed, grabbing the whiskey bottle from his night table. I looked at it, the sizable amount of poisonous amber liquid left in the bottle.
“That’s it! Bottoms up! Down the whole thing, Petey!” He forced it past my lips, upending the bottle. Its contents emptied into my mouthed and I struggled to swallow again and again as the bottle drained. All the while, Mel kept butt-fucking me.
Finally empty, he threw it across the room, sending it rolling to the floor. Meanwhile, I coughed and sputtered, my eyes watering. Now I couldn’t see straight. Mel slapped and patted my cheek several times, knocking my head around.
“Yeah now you’re nice and dumb, aren’t you buttboy?! Just a nice dumb fuck for me to pork.” I answered in the affirmative, my speech slurring pathetically. Mel cackled at my inebriation.
“You dumb little drunk!” He crowed, then seized my head and brought my lips back to his sweaty, hairy beer gut. The salty sweat of his skin was like a chaser from the whiskey and I licked it up enthusiastically. Satisfied, he released my head and lay it back on the pillow, looking up between my legs at my fuming conqueror. I watched his big body fuck me as I seemed to sink into the bed – it felt like he was taking all my power from me.
Then his red face twisted into a serious grimace. He squeezed my hips, grinding his nails into my flesh, and began to rut at breakneck speed. The entire bed was shaking, banging into his wall nosily. Mel came, roaring at the top of his lungs for about 2 minutes. .
“Jerk your little dick off, buttboy.” I did and with his still hard cock embedded in my ass, I shot my load in two strokes. I came explosively, spraying my chin, neck, chest and belly with thick white cum.
Mel closed his eyes, continuing to slowly pump his hips into me, his belly shaking gently with each thrust. His mouth was open, his tongue lolling out -he was still enjoying the tight grip of my ass on his cock, and I felt additional deposits of his thick semen discharge into me. The greedy man wanted to take as much pleasure from my body as he could, even after orgasm. He also wanted to make sure that as much of his essence was injected in me as possible, that his DNA entered and stayed in my body. He propped up several pillows below my hips as he lay atop me, his belly sealed over mine as he continued to slowly hump into me, making sure the maximum amount of Melvin Krimholz successfully infiltrated my system.
Finally Mel pulled out of me with a wet popping sound, shaking his softening penis on my own genitals, dripping his excess semen all over me. I was covered in cum.
Mel rolled off of me and stepped off the bed. I watched his big fat ass shift with each step as he walked over to the pile of my clothes. Turning back towards me, he grabbed my trousers, wiping the cum off his dickhead all over them as he chuckled to himself. He then rubbed his belly with them too – a lot of my semen had gotten on him when he lay atop me. He then took both pant legs and used them to mop up the copious sweat from his armpits, his chest, and even his back. He then sauntered back to the bed and stood over me, hands on his hips, his big red dick hanging proudly.
“Alright, bar’s closed you drunk. Don’t have to go home but you can’t stay here.” He leered at me with amused contempt.
I stood up from the bed uneasily, stumbling. Mel caught me, laughing in my face at how drunk I was. I had the spins, maybe the first time since college.
“Christ Peteyboy you really are a lightweight, aren’t you. You need to learn to control your drinking!” He slapped my bare ass as I wobbled towards my clothes.
He hounded me as I lurched drunkenly, spanking my ass, and sniffing theatrically around my neck.
“Peeeeyoooo! You reek of whiskey, Petey! Whiskey and cum!” He opened his door, and grabbed my shoes, socks, underwear and pants from the floor, tossing them out in the hall. Just like last time, he kicked my bare ass out through his doorway. I fell on my face, groaning.
“Get dressed and get the fuck out of here. But I don’t think you need your shirt and jacket on such a nice warm night! I’ll hold on to it for you.” As I struggled to stand, I saw him shake my suit jacket, dress shirt and tie in his hand. He was forcing me to walk home bare chested, after mauling my pectorals and back with his mouth.
“Good luck getting home, you goddamn drunk!” He roared, laughing, then slammed the door in my face.
I sat for a few moments, my bare butt cheeks feeling strange against the linoleum floor of the hallway. I caught my breath and tried to make the room stop spinning. Slowly I pulled on both socks, then laid flat out to get my pants on. I remained on the floor, trying to tie my shoes.
Finally I stood, balancing my forehead against the wall as the hallway spun like a funhouse. I checked my pockets about a hundred times to confirm that the bastard had let me keep my keys. I then slowly clomped down the stairs, hugging the wall.
The warm air of the summer evening caressed my bare skin as I walked out on his street. I could see in the reflection of cars and storefronts that I was a mess- bare-chested, hickeys ringing my neck, bright red bite marks around my nipples, and two loads of semen all over me- mine caking my crotch and exposed belly, his seeping out from between my legs, staining through the seat of my trousers.
The small street outside of Mel’s apartment was empty, but I knew to make it home I had to cross several broadways, crowded with people out enjoying the late summer sun and warm air. I tried to think of detours down quieter roads, but my brain was too scrambled. When I turned a corner I passed a middle aged man. His eyes bugged out of his head and a broad smile stretched across his face. I put my arms over my chest possessively and sped up, stumbling slightly, hearing his raspy laughter chasing me down the street.
Down the next street I passed two guys around my age smoking. They eyed me with disbelief then burst into laughter of their own. One whipped out his phone and took a picture of me. I was a spectacle. Another old man passed me, shaking his head in disapproval and disgust.
Apart from public opprobrium due to my plainly debased state, I had another problem. Mel had forced me drink almost an entire liter of whiskey, a bladder full of his piss, plus I had drank water before coming to his apartment and not had a chance to relieve myself. With each step I took I began to feel a building pressure in my bladder.
I was sobering up just a bit but I was still visibly wasted, and I couldn’t use a store or restaurant’s bathroom while shirtless and reeking of spooge and booze. My bladder pulsed painfully in my abdomen, its alarm call that I was about to wet myself. I had at least 20 minutes more of my walk home – I wasn’t going to make it, not when I was still struggling to walk in a straight line.
Finally on a quiet street I ducked into an alley. I tried to fish out my penis, which had shrunken from how badly I need to pee. My fumbling fingers struggled to get it through my zipper, and in frustration I opened my belt and let my trousers and underwear fall to my ankles as I leaned my head against the side of the building, my little dickhead in my hand. I felt the summer air on my naked backside and my bare legs, but I was hopefully far enough in the alley that no one from the street could see me. Pissing with my bare naked ass out, in an alley like a drunk.
I sighed in pleasure as I unleashed my stream against the wall. I was astounded by the size of the spreading puddle at my feet. Just then I heard the hinges of a door whine open.
“Hey! The fuck you doing back here!” Someone barked in an Eastern European accent. A swarthy, bald man in his fifties approached me, his eyes wide with outrage. An apron stretched over his big beer belly, which shook as he walked. He had a huge black mustache that obscured most of his face and he was chomping on a cigar. I halted my piss mid-stream, and in a moment he was on me, one of his thick, hairy arms spinning my shoulder around so that my bare shoulders were pinned against the wall and I was facing him with my dick out. I tried to cover my nudity but he smacked my hands away.
He looked me up and down. His face was furious but he looked confused too, and just a bit amused by the whole situation. He didn’t know what to make of me- I didn’t like the typical derelict drunk he probably was used to shooing away from this alley.
“What kind of pervert shit is this? He pointed at the bite marks and hickeys around my chest, then flicked one of my nipples. I held myself against the wall, paralyzed.
“You some kind of faggot, huh?!” He demanded, barking at me, making me flinch. I tried to reach for my trousers at my ankles. His big hand came down across the side of my head like a thunderclap, and in my drunken state it knocked me onto the ground. I fell down on to my side, propped against the wall.
“Get the fuck down there, you little pig!” He kicked me sharply in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. Then he laughed as I watched his fingers go to his crotch, shifting his apron aside.
“You piss on my fucking building? I piss on you, you disgusting little-prick faggot.” The big hairy man smirked at me cockily as he unfurled an enormous, uncut cock from his fly. I couldn’t tell if it was as big as Mel’s but it clearly dwarfed mine, which was not lost on him either. He muttered something in his language which made him crack up. He pulled back his foreskin and his urethra winked at me once before letting loose with his spray.
He started at my crotch, dousing my shrunken penis and testes with his piss. Then he traced my legs down to where my ankles were tangled with my pants and underwear, being sure to thoroughly soak my clothes. He even pissed on my socks and my dress shoes. Next he sent his stream up my belly, to my chest, neck, face and hair. After washing my hair with his piss, he aimed directly for my eyes, blinding me. It was sickeningly warm on my skin and smelled horrible.
“Idiot fucking little-prick faggot. This is what you deserve.” He chuckled as he drenched me in his piss. I just laid there pathetically, eyes closed, letting him douse me.
“Open your mouth. Swallow! Drink! ” He ordered, forcing me to drink his pungent stream, which just kept coming and coming. He unloaded down my throat straight into my stomach, laughing wildly. Whatever I couldn’t collect in my mouth spilled out onto my face. Between Mel’s piss, all the whiskey and now a bellyful of this man’s piss, I felt truly nauseous.
Finally done, he shook his cock at me, spraying the last few drops at my face before tucking it away. He then squatted down over me, his hands searching my pants at my feet. Finding my wallet, he held it in my face as he claimed $100 cash. He winked at me as he folded the bills and shoved them in his pocket, then threw my ransacked wallet at my face. He kicked me one more time in the gut and left me in the puddle of our urine.
I laid there for a moment, not sure if I needed to throw up. Eventually I brought my self to my feet, and pulled my soaking wet underwear and pants back up over me. It reminded me of wearing a wet bathing suit as a kid. Only this one reeked of piss.
My detour in the alley had the one benefit that it was finally dark out, though the streets were still crowded. I just lowered my head, stumbling home, ignoring the jeers and laughter of men that seemed to follow me at every turn.
Once home, I stripped out of my ruined clothes at my doorway then I emailed my boss saying that I was coming down with something and anticipated not being able to make it in tomorrow. In truth what I anticipated was a monster hangover. I began drinking as much water as possible and pulled myself into the shower. I let the water wash over me, leaning my head against the shower wall, filling my bathroom with steam. Finally I dried off, drank more water, and collapsed in my bed.
The next day I slept in. When I finally roused after 10am, my stomach dropped when I saw a text message from Mel.