Guess what. I'm a dog fucker. Yes. That's true. I know you probably think that sounds totally unbelievable. I mean, who in his right mind would spread his legs and offer his cunt to a dog? Okay, so maybe I'm not entirely sane. I can explain, though, at least I can try, I can make an effort to tell you how I became this shameless bitch in heat.
Have you ever been bullied? I mean really bullied? I'm not talking about the occasional teasing that most kids experience from time to time. What I went through was something entirely different. I'm talking every day since first grade. I'm talking about being beaten up and harassed for no good reason at all.
Peter was always the worst one, and the kid I feared the most. I'd do anything to avoid him, whether I was in school or on my way to and from. He was four years older than me. I don't know why he chose to pick on me. I have no idea whatsoever. Maybe it was my glasses or the fact that my clothes weren't the latest fashion. He had a certain way to get everyone to join in. I remember once when I was nine or ten, they hunted me down in a small grove, not far from where we used to live. They tied me to a tree and tore all my clothes off, leaving me naked. To this day I can still remember the sound of their laughter, as they gathered around me to point and ridicule my nakedness.
I don't know. Maybe that incident did something to me. Maybe it did something to Peter. At that time, I had no idea that it was a forbearing of what was to come. All I know is that at that day I lost whatever was left of my dignity and my will to escape.
I got so used to all of this, that I can't really remember any other traumatic incidents until I was twelve, even though I know that not a day went by without them harassing me in one way or another. I hardly noticed I guess.
The day everything changed, started out much like that movie, you know: Carrie, by Stephen King. Peter confronted me one day, and needless to say, I was scared out of my wits, but all he wanted was to apologize for his previous behavior. He said he was sorry, and that there was no excuse for everything he'd done to me. And then he said that he actually liked me. And would I consider coming to his place next Friday? We could just hang out or catch a movie, he said.
Just like Carrie in the movie, I was skeptical, to say the least. I was convinced that it was just another trap. How did he manage to persuade me in the end? I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to believe that all the pain was finally coming to and end and that I'd be accepted for who I was. Anyway, I turned up at his place that Friday, wearing the best clothes I could find.
He let me in and gave me a hug. I couldn't believe it. Then he took me by the hand and led me into the living room. He offered me a beer, and I accepted, even though I knew that I was way too young to drink. Hell, I was only twelve for Christ sake! I suppose I drank too fast and too much because it didn't take that long before everything started to become a blur. That's when he tied my arms behind my back and began to take off my clothes again, just like he did that time in the woods.
I tried to tell him to stop, but he just laughed.
"I want to take a look at your cunt," he said. "I know you have one, and I bet it's tight. Isn't it, you little faggot?"
I was so ashamed when he started sliding his fingers down there, only to hold them up before my face and make me sniff my own "whore juices" as he called them. He even forced me to lick it off his fingers.
That was when the door bell rang. I flinched. But he told me not to worry.
"It's only people you know from before," he said.
Sure enough, the whole gang paraded into the living room. Oh, how the boys laughed and screamed when they saw me lying naked and crying on the sofa. Some of them had brought cameras. And one guy, his name was Cliff, had a dog on a leash. I was sobbing like crazy.
"Don't worry," Peter said. "We're not going to rape you if that's what you think. Did you really believe that we'd stick our dicks into that stinking, whore hole of yours? Did you? No! Hell, no! Geez, get over yourself and get a grip, will you?
“We just want your mouth to be our little cumdump. Would you like that? See, we like you so much that we all would like to go steady with you. And the first thing we want you to do for us is to suck our dicks. You can manage that, can't you? Or would you rather that we fuck you?"
Guess what, I did what they asked me to. I did it because otherwise, I thought they would fuck me. I was willing to go along with anything, so long as they didn't fuck me.
Peter had a thick, black marker. He wrote on my belly first, with big, crude letters. FAGGOT! Then he wrote "fuckhole" above my ass, and made an arrow to point at my asshole. He wrote on my cheeks too. "Cumdump," with arrows to my mouth. The letters were soaked in my tears.
I started to suck dicks, while I tried not to think about what was happening. I tried to shut out the fact that they were taking pictures of the whole scene. I tried not to listen to their chanting and laughter. One after another they came. Some sprayed their cum in my face. Others forced it into my mouth and made me swallow. They were crazy.
After I had sucked all eight of them, Peter and his friend, Gary, sat down on each side of me on the sofa, and forced my legs apart and pulled my feet back to my ears, exposing my hairless asshole.
"You've been ingenious," said Peter. "So I think you deserve a little reward. Don't you?"
I shook my head, but I wasn't able to say much. He took that as acceptance.
That's when they brought the dog forward. The German shepherd started to lick me. I cried out, but Peter looked very stern and told me not to make such a fuss.
"Relax,” he said. “Trust me on this, it'll be good. You'll like it. I promise you."
Somehow his calm voice made me shut up.
"That's a clever boy," he said. "Isn't it wonderful? You see, the dog likes to lick a boy-cunt."
He kept stroking my hair, and he behaved almost as if he cared for me. It was so odd. It made me calm down and cooperate. It made me go along with what was happening. And even though I hated every second, I heard myself starting to pant. This of course made the boys go into a frenzy.
I don't know how it is possible that I climaxed, but I did. There was no mistaking. They all witnessed it. Some even took pictures. Others were busy wanking. I more or less passed out after that and didn't notice much until the dog started climbing on top of me. His paws were rough against my naked, scribbled skin.
"Good," said Peter. "You're very clever. You're the best damn dog whore I've ever seen. Now spread your legs even more, and let that nice doggie fuck your cunt. You know it's what you want, don't you? Your dick is so hard and dripping wet that you're making stains on the couch. And after all, it's the least you can give him, after what he gave you."
I don't know, maybe I was beyond caring, but I didn't put up much of a fight. Peter helped the dog by taking the animal cock and aiming it at me. I started to cry again because it hurt so much. But all the time I had Peters calm, soothing voice in my ear, and it confused me and drained me of my will.
"Good faggot bitch," he said. "You're such a lovely cumdump, Trent. I'm so proud of you. I knew you would go along with anything, just to get fucked. I knew it. You have faggot written all over you."
That statement made some of the guys laugh. After all, it was true! Literally.
They kept me there for the rest of that night and made me do countless, shameless deeds with them and the dog. When Peter's friends left, I was exhausted. Peter took me into the bathroom and peed in my face. Then he showered me in ice cold water and wrapped a blanket around me.
I guess that's when the real change happened. Peter kissed me! It was my very first kiss, and it is odd to think about all the other things he made me do before I was kissed.
"Thank you, fag," he said. "You were everything I hoped you would be. From now on you're mine. You belong to me, Fag. Do you understand?"
"You won't be my boyfriend or anything. I hope you understand that. You'll be my little fuck hole and cum dump, that's all. And I'll love you like that. You'll fuck anyone and anything I say, right?"
I nodded again. I was twelve years old, and I knew that my life would change for the better. I was loved. I was Peters little fuck hole and cum dump.
Everyone at school knows what I did. The pictures were spread all over. And even though they cut away my face, the rumors spread fast.
It's been five years, and Peter and his friends still fuck my ass and mouth, and they watch with great pleasure, every time I am tied me down for the dog to rape me in front of their dorm mates.
I've long since learned what I am and what my purpose in life is.