Bobby Waters’ twelve-year-old, smooth, milky-white body was just blooming from boyhood to teenager, and his black hair and flashing eyes made him a tasty morsel indeed for those who have an interest in preteen boy meat. He was innocent and naive and right now scared out of his mind, as he stood before Mr. Burke, the headmaster of Lakeland Academy for Boys.
Academy indeed, it was a reform school, no use toying with labels. The only thing being toyed with at Lakeland was the boys. Bobby was just the latest acquisition at the sadist-driven, private indulgence for male perverts, who were shielded by well-placed government employees who availed themselves of the school’s pleasures.
Burke was thirty-three and well-muscled. He sported a short choppy buzz cut, and his hard, smooth features looked antique Roman. Now he glared through dark eyes down the length of his straight nose past flared nostrils at the preadolescent twelve-year-old boy who stood quaking before him.
“We don’t fuck around here at Lakeland. We take juvenile offenders like you, pieces of street shit and break them. Cut them down to size and then if they’re lucky, rebuild them again.”
He had not dealt drugs as he had been accused of, but what was the use of protesting his innocence? The judge had not believed him. Fuck it, his own parents, who were never around anyway, had not believed him. Bobby looked across the polished wooden desk at Mr. Burke. The man was very handsome but very cruel looking.
“The doctor will give you an official physical later, a very thorough one,” Burke laughed, and the hunky eighteen-year-old trustee behind Bobby laughed as well, “but I suppose we’d better check you out. Strip and hand your clothes to Jeff.”
Bobby was terrified now. He chewed his cute, full pink lower lip. Tears welled up in his big black eyes. Burke smiled. He loved it when a boy crumbled like a cookie.
“What the fuck are you waiting for? Get your fucking clothes off now!”
Twelve-year-old Bobby Waters kicked off his tennis shoes and peeled off his socks. His toes felt funny on the plush carpet. He took off his jacket and handed it to the tough-looking trustee who was dressed in a very tight white tee shirt, so tight the boy’s nipples, big quarter-sized pink nubs, showed clearly through the thin stretched material. The eighteen-year-old sneered at the little boy and looked as if he were about to eat him. Bobby had always been a good boy. Very good! Why was this happening to him? The lump in his throat would not go away as he unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his smooth boyish shoulders, so delicate like a bird’s wings. Bobby stood bare titted before Burke. The boy’s chest was pale and undeveloped, just the beginning of a definition, just a hint of pec muscle topped with two nickel-sized, undeveloped pink titties.
“Not much there,” whispered Burke, licking his lips, “but we’ll fix that. We’ll work on him until he’s got nipples like a fucking sow!”
Bobby could not make out the headmaster’s words, which was just as well. The boy was sweating now, rivulets of perspiration trailing down from his hairless armpits, down his alabaster boyish torso into the waistband of his jeans.
“Well?” Burke barked.
Bobby’s hands flew to his belt buckle. The boy, like most preadolescent boys, was extremely uncomfortable about undressing in front of other people. He had not ever gotten used to stripping in the locker room at school for gym class. He would turn away giving his gym teacher, a real fucking pervert, a good look at his tight melon-sized ass cheeks and the beautiful boy crack between.
Bobby peeled down his jeans and stepped out of them, standing in only his small white briefs. When he turned to hand the trustee his pants, he saw the teenager stare down at the twelve-year-old prick lump in the underpants. One of Bobby’s hands went down to cover himself. His face turned a delightful shade of pink. He faced Burke again. He scratched one ankle with the big toe of the other foot, and Burke threw a boner. Christ, this little cunt was really asking for it! Burke leaned in.
“Well?” Burke asked again.
“Please, sir, can I keep my underpants?”
The boy asked so sweetly that Burke had to laugh. He saw Jeff’s dick bulge give a lurch. Jeff was dressed in the school uniform like all the Lakeland boys in a very tight, very thin white tee shirt and a small pair of tight white shorts, also very thin, so thin that the dark tube of cock flesh showed through.
“Bobby, if you don’t remove your underpants, we can’t give you your school uniform. We insist that all our boys wear white tee shirts and shorts for hygienic as well as budgetary reasons. I told you to strip. That means bare-assed. You will be punished for making me ask twice. Around here, never make a teacher or trustee ask twice. Now, take off the fucking underpants!”
Lots of twelve-year-old boys are very shy about being naked. Their boyish, colt-like, young bodies are just developing awkwardly into things of teenage beauty. Lately, Bobby had become acutely aware of his cock and how large it was growing. He had recently discovered the joys of masturbation and still felt guilty about his constant jerk-off sessions in his bedroom while thinking about some of the girls at school. He slid his fingers into the waistband of his white briefs and tugged them down over his bony hips, and Mr. Burke could see the boy’s exceptional five-inch, pink flaccid prick and his soft velvety bag of boy balls. Bobby picked up one big boy foot to step out of the underpants and Jeff, standing behind him, saw the crack in the kid’s ass spread. A wet spot formed in the front of Jeff’s white shorts. Burke saw it.
“You’ll be punished for lack of control, Jeff!” he smirked.
“Yes, sir!” Jeff snapped, pre-cum dripping from the leg band of the shorts.
“How can we expect our naughty boys to control their evil sex lusts and discipline their dirty little minds if our trustees are leaking like elephants in heat?”
Behind the desk, where no one could see, Burke’s trousers were soggy with fuck slime. How could anyone stare at this twelve-year-old bare-assed, innocent virgin boy and not drip dick snot? Bobby covered his cock and balls with his hands.
“Put your hands on your head, Bobby,” Burke commanded.
Bobby raised his thin arms, and his young, over-sized prick and plump ball bag were on display. Burke held his breath, the circumcised dick was so beautifully fresh and pink and unused with a nice fat dickhead.
“Now, Bobby, I have to ask you some questions for hygienic reasons. You had better answer honestly. If you answer honestly, everything will be fine for you. If you lie to us and we will check your answers later with a lie detector, you will be punished terribly. These are personal questions, and I know they’re a little bit embarrassing, but we have to ask them for our records, okay?”
“Okay,” Bobby murmured, very confused and frightened and wishing he could cover his dick.
“Have you ever fucked a girl, Bobby?”
Burke opened a notebook to record the boy’s answers.
“No, sir, I’m only twelve, sir.”
“Lots of healthy twelve-year-old boys are fucking twat three or four times a week. You don’t like girls, huh?”
“Oh…no…sir, it isn’t that at all…it’s just—”
“Have you ever sucked another boy’s dick?”
“Oh…god, no, sir.”
What kind of pervert did the headmaster think he was anyway? Burke’s voice grew more agitated.
“Did you ever take dick up your ass?”
“Sir, I’ve never done anything. How could you think I would—”
“Just shut up and answer the questions.” Great logic that. Burke was rubbing his nine incher beneath his desk. “Have you ever thought about fucking your mother?”
Tears poured down Bobby’s cheeks. His pouty little boy mouth quivered so he could hardly speak.
“Of course, I never thought about something so sick!” he yelled at the headmaster.
“You’ll be punished for your insolence, Bobby, just answer the questions. We get lots of really twisted boys in here, and we have to know! Now how often do you masturbate?”
Imagine being twelve and being asked that question. Bobby didn’t know what to say.
“Well…about…I guess…sometimes every day…sometimes not!”
“What are the most times you’ve ever shot a load in one day?”
Bobby curled his toes into the carpet and looked at the floor. He remembered that day, beating his prick until it was raw, he just could not stop! His young nut sack ached for days.
“Six times,” he mumbled.
“Well, you won’t be doing that here. Boys are forbidden to commit self-abuse. In fact, boys are not allowed to touch their pricks unless ordered to do so. If you’re caught even touching that disgusting piss tube, you will wish you had never been born. Understand?”
Bobby trembled. Burke’s voice softened.
“Tell me, Bobby, have you ever sucked off a dog?”
Bobby started to gag. He shook his head no. He loved his dog Soldier at home, and he missed him terribly. Bobby was now convinced that Burke was a real psycho.
“Have you ever stuck your tongue up a dog’s asshole?”
“Sir, why are you asking me these things? I’ve never done anything dirty.”
Bobby was sobbing now. It is so easy to break a boy. Burke laughed.
“You beat your meat like a fuck-crazed animal. Some boys like to do nasty things with their pets. I have to know. Have you ever eaten shit, Bobby?”
Bobby went to his knees. His hands came off of his head and covered his beautiful face. Burke stood.
“You have to be punished, Bobby. You removed your hands without permission. At Lakeland, you don’t do anything without permission. You don’t piss. You don’t shit. You don’t eat. You don’t sleep. Now I’m going to have to punish you, Bobby. Please understand that I don’t like this. I don’t want to, but it’s the only way for you to learn. I hope you understand that this is for your own good. Now, sit up on my desk, Bobby, and spread your legs wide.”
Bobby, crying uncontrollably, did as he was told. Jeff came over, laying one firm hand on the boy’s smooth hairless thigh to hold him steady. Burke spread Bobby’s legs wider, revealing more of his boy dick and soft nut sack.
“Bobby, you have some black hair on your balls. Just a bit, but we don’t allow that for health reasons. Yes, indeed, you are sprouting ball sack hair. Lean back and let me see your asshole.”
Bobby did not have any choice as Jeff eased him back so Burke could see the delicate pink asshole.
“Spread your legs wider, cunt, so Mr. Burke can see your pussy.”
“Easy, Jeff, easy, we wouldn’t want to intimidate our new student. Hold your legs as wide apart as you can, Bobby, so I can check your asshole for hair.”
Bobby felt Burke’s big finger at his asshole.
“Yes, my boy, you have just a couple of sprouts around your pink pucker. You will have to pluck those hairs out as well as all your ball hairs. We do allow a prick patch of two inches in a perfect triangle above the dick, but no other bodily hair. Each morning you will be granted a grooming period, during which you will pluck out any ball, and asshole, and body hair you find. Of course, you will be inspected daily and punished for any oversights.
“As to your punishment, I will be very kind to you today. Think of this as an incentive for you to be a good boy and to follow all orders at once. Today, I will give you five swats on the nut sack with a ruler and then Jeff will show you the school and explain our rules to you. Your job is to remember the rules and not break them. Now hold your legs wide open, so I can get a good shot at those delicate boy balls of yours.”
Bobby’s screams echoed through the corridors of the private reform school for boys. Eight-year-old Timmy Martin, who was crawling bare-assed down the hall while his senior trustee, Phil Tate, nudged the boy’s pink little asshole with the big toe of his right foot, halted mid-crawl to listen to the yells of the ball beaten boy.
“New boy getting a welcome from Burke,” Phil laughed.
Then to get Timmy going again, he jammed his toe into the tiny boy’s rectum. Timmy winced, but he had much larger objects in his asshole, or ‘pussy’ as he had been taught to call it since he had first arrived at the sadistic school.
Ten-year-old Cal Hodges, a delightful young blond, paused for a moment in his task of cleaning the second-floor faculty bathroom when he heard screams coming through the floorboards of the old building. He remembered for a moment his first day at Lakeland. It seemed a million years ago. Then the slender youth on his knees went back to his chore of licking out the piss-encrusted urinals.
Back in Burke’s office, Bobby was recovering from his scrotum beating. It had been a long, arduous ordeal. Burke had worked slowly. He would lightly tap the bottom of the boy’s soft pink ball bag with the tip of the ruler, prolonging the twelve-year-old boy’s terror for as long as possible. Then when he saw the boy’s eyes waiver or drift off even for a second, he would smash the ruler into the plump little ballbag as hard as he could. The lad would buck and fling himself back across the desk, howling with agony while Jeff, the senior trustee, snorted with teenage lust and held the frail twelve-year-old still. Burke and Jeff both delighted in the way the boy’s leg muscles tensed, and his toes curled oh his big boy feet—this kid would be a big one when he matured. The pain was so great that the kid’s body actually trembled like the plucked string of a guitar.
Bobby gagged and swallowed the puke that rose in his throat. It would not do to vomit. He somehow knew that, so he struggled to keep it down. He had never felt such pain in his entire life. Once in gym class about a year ago when he was eleven, another kid had snapped his balls with a towel. He remembered lying on the floor in a little ball while the coach and all the kids roared with laughter. But that had been nothing next to this! Four more times he had to compose himself until the pain subsided and he once again sat there with his smooth athletic young legs spread far apart while Mr. Burke bounced his tender testes on the tip of the ruler. Four more times, he had to allow the sadistic headmaster to thwack his ballbag with such force that the tiny nuts felt as if they were driven up into his throat. Finally, he lay delirious on the desk, arms and legs twitching like a young colt not yet able to walk, spittle running from his beautiful slack lips, eyes rolled back in his head, his scrotum discolored and swollen.
Burke rubbed his throbbing drooling crotch. Jeff did not dare as Lakeland lads, even trustees, were not allowed to touch their dicks except with permission or when working on assignment with a boy. Jeff’s fat teen dick was making a mess of the front of his thin white Lakeland shorts. Christ, the entire crotch was one sloppy pre-fuck swamp, forming a massive, almost transparent wet spot. He would be punished for leaking without permission, he knew that, but fuck he could not control it. What healthy, eighteen-year-old could? Watching a new kid get his balls beaten was just too fucking hot. Burke stepped back.
“Since it’s your first day here, I’ll go easy on you, but don’t fuck up again. Your only job in this school is to do any and everything you’re told to do, immediately and without questions! Jeff will now take you to the dorm and get you settled. We’ll talk again tomorrow after you’ve had a chance to see the school. Remember, starting tomorrow morning, no ball or asshole hair! A clean boy is a healthy boy.”
Bobby struggled to his feet, his legs feeling like Jell-O. His soft pale young face was dripping sweat, and a shock of black hair had tumbled over his forehead. He was a fucking twelve-year-old doll.
“Let’s go, asswipe, I haven’t got all day,” Jeff growled.
Bobby began to take his clothes off the chair where Jeff had deposited them.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Jeff barked.
“Ugh…getting dressed,” the frightened boy stammered.
“Leave those clothes there, you stupid cunt. Here at Lakeland, all boys wear the Lakeland uniform, white shirt, white shorts, and white sneakers. Come with me, and I’ll get you a uniform.”
“But I can’t walk out into the school naked.”
“You not only can, but you will, and if you open your fuckhole of a mouth again, you’ll be sorry. Now move your little pink ass.”
Burke smiled as he watched Bobby walk bare-assed out of his office. The kid had to walk with his legs spread because of his battered balls. What a cute little hunk of boy-pussy. Those little ass cheeks were tight and round and just like two grapefruit halves. Burke’s swollen prick gave a lurch. Shit, he had to get back to work. He had grant writing to do, and he had to arrange for the Governor’s visit. He sat down at his desk and unzipped his sopping wet trousers to release his big pisser. He rolled his desk forward just a bit, and the fifteen-year-old bare-assed boy beneath his desk began at once to lick the drooling fuck sausage.
The journey through the hall was a nightmare. Teachers in jeans and casual shirts stopped Jeff to ask Bobby’s name. They stared shamelessly at the boy’s dick and balls and ass. One weird middle-aged, short, dumpy-looking teacher with thick glasses produced a tape measure and proceeded to measure the width of Bobby’s nipples!
“Oh, my, we’ll have to work on those,” he said, making a clicking noise with his teeth and tongue.
Another tall and thin older man cupped the boy’s face in his long bony hands.
“Such a pretty boy, I hope they put you in my class,” the old fag swooned, and then he inserted one long fingertip into Bobby’s mouth. He poked the finger in and out between Bobby’s lips for a few seconds. “Oh what nice sucky lips the little doll has,” he twittered.
Bobby, needless to say, was freaking out. I mean he was a normal twelve-year-old boy, and here he was standing bare-assed in a school corridor having a teacher shove a finger in and out of his mouth.
“Get your hands away from your dick. You ever touch yourself like a filthy pervert, and you’ll be really sorry. That ball bashing you got will seem like nothing!”
The hardest thing for Bobby to resolve as he followed Jeff down the hall was the seeming contradiction between the obviously perverted sexuality of the place and the sham morality. He did not realize it was all intentional, designed to fuck up a boy’s mind and break him, to turn him from a healthy kid into a mindless fuck animal. The school did it slowly with infinite patience and control. After all, half the fun was getting the kid there! Once he was a slobbering boy pussy, hungry only for prick, the exercise became dull. How much dignity, how much of the boy’s own personality do you allow him to keep? The ideal was, of course, just enough so that he still recoiled from each new horror visited upon him. Once he became numb to abuse, the fun was spoiled.
“Please, sir, I have to use the toilet really badly,” Bobby pleaded with the eighteen-year-old hunky trustee.
Jeff smiled a cruel smile and ran one big hand through Bobby’s messed up black hair.
“Ordinarily, I would tell you to go fuck yourself, but since this is your first day, and I kind of like you, okay then, I’ll let you use the toilet. Do you have to piss or shit?”
They passed a door marked ‘Men’s Room.’ Jeff paused, so did naked Bobby.
“See that room, that’s not for you. That is for faculty and some trustees like me only! Your toilet is across the hall!”
Bobby looked across the dingy hallway to a wooden door with a sign on it that read, ‘CUNTS.’
“The cunt room is kept locked and is only used during designated shit and piss periods or with permission.”
Jeff laughed and from a chain around his neck because there were no pockets in his body-hugging shorts, he produced a key. He unlocked the door marked ‘CUNTS’ and led the frightened boy inside to an enormous, white-tiled room. In the middle of the room, there were two troughs in the tile floor. It was like no toilet Bobby had ever seen.
“Where are all the other students?” Bobby asked, not having seen any boy’s in the hall.
“They’re all in class. We believe in giving a boy a good education.”
Bobby felt better about that. At least some of the day would be normal. Now, he stared at the toiletless, sinkless bathroom.
“How do I use this bathroom, sir?”
Jeff laughed and rubbed one big hand over Bobby’s small smooth back.
“I don’t have time to show you now. You’ll see tonight at the evening toilet period. For now, we’ll just have to make due.”
He went over to a counter and returned with a white plastic dishpan which he set on the floor.
“Okay, hurry up, shit and piss. I got things to do today.”
Bobby could not believe it. The older boy wanted him to shit and piss in the dishpan in front of him.
“In there?” he gulped.
“No, in my hand, stupid!” and for a moment, Bobby, who would have believed anything by this point, lost the irony. “Of course, in the dishpan.”
Bobby stood over the dishpan.
“I don’t know if I can…with someone watching, I mean.”
“Well, tough shit.” Jeff laughed at his own joke. “First of all, you don’t piss standing up, men do. Little boy cunts do it squatting like a pussy. Second, don’t you dare touch yourself.”
Bobby squatted while the older boy watched closely. Jeff even squatted so he could see the boy’s pisser and ass better. Bobby grunted as his balls still throbbed from the beating. Then he began to piss into the dishpan.
“Spread your legs more. I can’t see,” Jeff barked.
Bobby squatting over the dishpan, spread his legs further, balancing on the balls of his big feet, hands on his smooth hairless thighs, pissed with Jeff looking on. He heard the splash of the piss in the dishpan. He had never felt so humiliated in his whole young life.
“You got a nice dick there for twelve…about five inches flaccid, I’d say. How big is it hard?”
“I don’t know,” Bobby muttered, still pissing.
“Don’t lie to me, cuntface. Every boy measures his dick. Now how big is it hard?”
“A little over seven,” Bobby mumbled, ashamed of his big dick.
“Shit, man, over seven and you really never fucked a chick? You really are a pussy, ain’t you?”
Jeff was mauling his own giant fucker through his shorts, and Bobby thought, ‘Sure, you can touch yourself when Burke’s not around.’ He was learning the way the school worked!
“Well, go ahead and take a shit.”
Bobby was too embarrassed.
“I don’t have to after all.”
“Look, I was nice enough to let you use the can, now you better shit. You got one minute to produce a turd!”
Bobby squeezed and strained. He felt so utterly humiliated. Jeff leaned down more so he could see the twelve-year-old’s pink asshole pucker better. Finally, a turd began to poke its way out of the boy’s asshole.
“Shit, I can’t see,” Jeff yelled. “Stand up! Keep your legs spread! Now, just squat a little and let the shit drop from your ass into the pan.”
Poor Bobby could do nothing except follow orders. The skinny young twelve-year-old boy stood awkwardly, legs spread, swollen balls swinging, over the white dishpan, arching his smooth pale back, his young ass sticking out like a whore about to be fucked and he shit. The turd made a loud plop as it landed in the piss-filled dishpan. Jeff let out a grunt, and then a moan.
“Aw…fuck…I spurted. Burke will fucking kill me!”
He bucked his young hips as the front of his white shorts turned almost transparent from cum, and Bobby could see the shape and dark pink color of the older boy’s thick dick tube. White slop ran down his muscular legs, strings of gooey cum covered his hands. Jeff was almost crying.
“Fuck…shit…look what you did. It’s your goddamn fault!”
He rushed over to the twelve-year-old boy and grabbed his smooth face with his cum-sticky hands.
“You fucking piece of shit you, you made me cum!”
Bobby started to cry. He did not know what he had done.
“For a guy to cum without permission, it’s the worst thing that can happen in this place. We gotta figure out a way to cover this up.”
Jeff slipped off his shorts. Bobby was amazed at the size of the eighteen-year-old boy’s dick. It swung like a baseball bat over two gigantic hairless balls. Jeff brought the soggy shorts up to Bobby’s face.
“Here, you cunt, suck the scum from these shorts, pronto.”
He ran over to grab some tissues to clean himself off.
“Do what?” asked the confused Bobby.
“Suck the cum from my shorts. Clean ‘em with your fucking mouth! Hurry up! If a teacher walks in here, we’re dead!”
“Can’t we just rinse them out?”
Jeff looked as scared as Bobby did.
“Do you see any water in this fucking toilet? Now, get those shorts in your mouth and suck. I’ll be right back.”
Jeff stuck his head out into the hall and then disappeared. Bobby stood there with his ass still dirty, his balls throbbing, holding the older boys cum-soggy white shorts in his small hands. He could smell Jeff’s balls and cock on the material, as well as the overwhelming smell of teenage boy spooge. He bit his full bottom lip. Big old tears rolled down his baby-smooth cheeks. When would the nightmare end? Then, because he did not know what else he could do, he brought the stinking shorts to his lips and began to suck. Strands of thick fuck sauce trailed from his lips to the shorts, the taste was salty and bitter. He had tasted his own fuck snot once after he had jacked off, and he hated it. And now he was sucking down another boy’s dick snot. The slime in his mouth grew thick and sticky like molasses. Bobby could hardly swallow. He gagged at the thought that he was swallowing sperm, jizz, cum.
The door opened, and Jeff reappeared dragging a tall, lanky boy of about fifteen.
“You tell anyone about this, and I’ll see that you’re put in The Pit for a week!” he said, throwing the boy into the tiled bathroom.
The fifteen-year-old boy stared at Bobby who stood there over the dishpan, a pair of soggy shorts hanging from his mouth.
“Take off your shorts.”
The terrified fifteen-year-old stripped. Bobby noticed that the boy’s long fat penis and very long full balls were all red and raw looking. Jeff sneered.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asked.
The fifteen-year-old boy looked down at his battered prick.
“Mr. Williams caught me talking in class.”
Bobby shuddered. What kind of fucking school was this? Jeff took the younger boy’s shorts and slipped them up over his own hips. They were a very tight fit but would do for now. He ripped his own shorts out of Bobby’s mouth and threw them to the other boy.
“Put these on!”
“You came in these shorts. What will I tell the teachers?”
“Any fucking thing you like except the truth! Now get your sorry ass out of here.”
The fifteen-year-old boy, who was now crying like a little boy, left the cunt room.
“What will happen to him if they think he came?” Bobby asked.
“You don’t wanna know, kid. You don’t wanna know. Now let’s get out of here.”
“What about my ass?” Bobby asked.
“What about your ass?” Jeff seemed preoccupied and distant.
“I need to wipe it.”
“Oh…here, you can’t touch yourself…not allowed. We’ve already broken enough rules for one day. Bend over.”
Bobby bent over, his face hanging over the shitty dishpan. Jeff grabbed some tissues and wiped the boy’s ass. It was quite the strangest feeling Bobby ever had. Here was this muscular eighteen-year-old stud cleaning his shitty ass.
“Jesus, I’m getting hard again,” Jeff groused.
Jeff wrapped his hand around Bobby’s slender naked waist and began to kiss the back of the boy’s neck. Now Bobby felt very uncomfortable.
“Please don’t, that’s queer,” Bobby protested.
Jeff laughed out loud at that. Then he sucked on the boy’s sweet, thick earlobe.
“Do you know, kid, you have the most adorable fuckable ass I have ever seen in this place. And I’ve seen a lot. Your little ass crack is practically screaming to be fucked. Man, you’re going to be fucked until you can’t walk before the week is out.”
Bobby continued to cry, fresh tears dripping onto his thin boyish chest now being squeezed by Jeff.
“I don’t want to be fucked,” he sobbed.
“Little cunt, you are in the wrong school!”
But Jeff was too scared to continue. He led the boy, now carrying the waste-filled dishpan into the hall.
Now Bobby walked down the hall carrying a dishpan with piss and shit in it. Several more teachers stopped the duo, each of them now looking at Bobby’s turd in the dishpan.
“Very nice,” several commented.
“I’ve never seen an ass that gorgeous,” another observed.
Bobby felt sick like he was about to throw up.
They stopped at the kitchen off the cafeteria. Here, boys of all ages prepared lunch under the guidance of adult cooks. Jeff had Bobby, who felt terrible bringing the shit into the kitchen, set the dishpan on a table. The cook looked at the turd.
“It’s fresh from this little cunt only a few minutes ago,” Jeff said to an older portly cheerful man dressed in white apron and chef’s cap. “How much will you give me for it?”
“Ten,” Jeff bargained.
“I don’t have time to quibble…okay, ten.”
The chef handed Jeff the paper money that was used by the boys in the school to buy television time, recreation facility use, candy, and almost everything else. The chef picked up the dishpan.
“The boys will love this, or rather, the boys will hate this!” he laughed.
Next, Jeff took Bobby to the dorm, a large room with ten beds. All the beds had only springs, no mattresses. The boys had to sleep bare-assed on the springs. They were told it discouraged jacking off and self-abuse. The boys slept with the lights on, always on their backs, and if any boy sported a boner during the night, he was immediately jerked awake by a monitor. That way, the boys had permanent blue balls. Their sexual drives were perpetually aroused and then destroyed, never letting their balls have release. Next to each bed was a small locker for schoolbooks and uniforms. Each boy had two sets of whites, so he could wear one set while the other set was laundered. Bobby’s locker was empty.
“Sit on your bed. Don’t touch your dick and balls. There’re cameras on you at all times. I’ll be back with your uniform and your student handbook.”
Bobby sat on the bed, his ass immediately hurting from the hard springs. He thought about his home and his bedroom and his stuff. He thought about his little sister and brother. About Elsie, the older lady who took care of them most of the time and whom he adored. He thought about his dog, Soldier. He ran one hand through his thick black hair, spread his legs to ease the pain in his swollen ballbag, and sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.
Bobby sat all alone in the big cold dorm, naked on his bedspring bed. A short compact kid of about seventeen came in and crossed over to him. The boy was muscular and graceful, like a gymnast. His white tee shirt and shorts hugged his well-formed body. He had short brown hair with a wayward lock that curled down across his forehead, giving him a youthful punky look that suited his tight cruel mouth and his pug nose.
“You the new cunt? Here’s your uniform.”
He threw a pile of clothes and a pair of high tops onto the bedspring. Bobby tried to wipe his tears off his tender pink cheeks. Too late!
“Been bawling, huh? It won’t do you any good here. They like it when the boys cry. The more you cry, the harder their dicks get. Your only chance to survive here is to get tough and to follow all orders immediately. That’s all that matters.
“I’m Brian, your dorm captain. I’m going to show you the ropes. Listen good and learn fast, and you’ll avoid another ball beating. Now get dressed. We’re late for lunch. That book is your student handbook. Read it tonight and memorize the fucking thing. It can save your life.”
Bobby stood to get dressed. All he found on the bed were three white tank tops, no shorts. He held them up to Brian, almost afraid to talk at all.
“Somebody in supply thinks he’s funny. I’ll get you some shorts after lunch. Let’s go; we don’t wanna be late.”
Bobby, open-mouthed, stared at Brian as he brought his hands to his twelve-year-old dick.
“But I can’t go into the lunchroom with no pants on.”
Brian’s right hand shot out and slapped the boy’s face hard. Bobby’s head snapped back, and his cheek stung.
“You can and will do whatever you are told to do, cunt! Look don’t give me trouble with that dick-hungry pussy-face of yours and that seductive little ass. Jeff already got in big trouble because of you. Mr. Burke called him in.”
Brian took a good look at the twelve-year-old boy’s ass. It was really something all right.
“That ass-cunt is just begging for a good hard fuck, isn’t it?”
Twelve-year-old Bobby had never heard such vile talk before in his whole young, innocent life. He could hardly comprehend the nature of the abuse.
“Let me feel that ass of yours,” Brian said, dragging the boy closer.
Brian put one big hand on the boy’s tight round small ass cheek. It was as smooth as pudding, yet as firm as a cantaloupe. The perfect ass-twat for a sex hungry teen to fuck. Bobby stiffened as the older boy squeezed his ass cheeks and then slid one thick finger up and down the ass crack.
“Yes, sir, cunty boy, you’d really like to get fucked, wouldn’t you? Oh, you can act scared, but I know the truth. Every time you see a young hunky baseball player or football player on TV, your ass-pussy starts juicing so bad you got to change your underpants. You probably whack off thinking about all the older guys at your school. You’ve probably been giving blowjobs to the whole fucking football team at school, right?
“We had a boy here last year who wouldn’t admit he was a pussy boy. He insisted that he wasn’t a cumdump faggot cunt face. Burke got so angry at him that he relented on the no sex rule and made the kid, just about your age, suck the cock of every boy in the school. That’s over two hundred dicks. The poor kid couldn’t even talk when he finished. His stomach was so full of spunk that he looked pregnant. After that, he was more than happy to admit what he was.
“Oh…my…your pussy hole feels tight.”
“Please…” Bobby begged, “nobody’s ever touched me there.”
“In a couple of weeks, you’ll be able to get a baseball bat up there. Now get dressed before I shoot a load and get myself in trouble.”
Bobby put on the tank top tee shirt, which left his armpits bare. The damn thing was so small that it did even come down to his belly button. He felt ridiculous.
“It doesn’t fit at all,” he complained.
“Au contraire, little clit tongue, it looks perfect. Now, put on the high tops.”
There were no socks, so Bobby stood dressed in just the tank top and tennis shoes, dick and balls naked.
“Please…please…I’m begging you…don’t make me go in front of the other kids like this.”
“You don’t understand, pussy breath, they want you like this. Otherwise, you woulda gotten shorts. I don’t get no say in it. You see, they break a kid this way, turn a normal healthy boy into a cum sucking pussy. It’s their method. They fuck with our minds constantly. They constantly get us all sexually worked up, then when we throw a boner, they punish us. It fucks up our minds and our sex drive until we become mindless toys for them. Get it?”
Tears were once again rolling down Bobby’s soft cheeks.
“But why would they do that?”
“Beats me. I guess it’s fun for them. I know this, though. The only way to exist here is to go with the flow. Follow orders and become as much of an animal— or in your case, a twat!—as they want you to be.”
“I don’t want to be a twat, whatever that means.”
Brian laughed and swatted the twelve-year-old boy on his fuckable ass.
Meanwhile, Mr. Burke was punishing Jeff for cumming without permission. It was a shame too. Burke liked Jeff, especially the kinky things the boy did in bed. The kid had turned from a frightened little pussy toy into a hunky first-class trustee. Burke did not even care that Jeff had shot a load. No, it was the principle of the thing. If one boy gets away with shooting his spunk without permission, then every boy will start spurting like a geyser. No, Jeff needed to be punished.
He currently had the boy doing personal toilet duty in his private bathroom. He was strapped in a rectangle hole in the tiled bathroom floor and covered with a clear plexiglass window. That way Burke could watch the teen’s strong young body squirm. Jeff’s head was placed directly beneath Burke’s toilet with a funnel going into the boy’s mouth. For the next few days, the boy would only eat shit and drink piss. Not that Jeff had not eaten Burke’s shit before since the handsome headmaster considered it the perfect way to test a boy’s loyalty and devotion.
He loved to tell a boy, “if you’ve really mended your evil ways, and you really want to reform, and you really intend to become the kind of boy to make me proud, then you’ll prove it to me by eating my shit!” Of course, the teenagers had no choice anyway, not really. There was no limit to the disgusting things Burke made them do for his pleasure—well, for the pleasure of his big dripping dick.
Still, Burke thought, as he sat down to take a crap into Jeff’s mouth, he could not blame the trustee for creaming over the new boy. That Bobby had the cutest cocksucker lips Burke ever saw and the ass—well, the ass was straight from fuck-heaven.
Bobby walked into the cafeteria bare-ass naked except for hightops and a tank top. The other boys only snuck glances out of the corners of their eyes, but the faculty members at the head table pointed and laughed outright.
“Did you catch the fuckmeat on the new boy?” one of them shouted.
“Looks like Burkes been working on his balls already. Knowing Burke, he’ll beat those babies until they’re swollen the size of tennis balls.”
Another laughed loudly and squeezed the ass of the fifteen-year-old serving boy at the faculty table.
“I do believe we have a high number of young boy cunt who will never have babies because of what Burke has done to their balls.”
A fat older man chortled.
“They’ll still have babies. They’ll deliver them through the boy-cunts we make out of their little ass-pussies.”
And so the disgusting lunchtime conversation went. Bobby was ushered by Brian to his dorm’s table. Eight other boys were already present. The boys all stood for grace. A fourteen-year-old boy with blond hair like cornsilk gave the blessing. His full bottom lip quivered as he stood in front of the room. None of the other boys had spoken or made a sound. Fear controlled the climate.
“We are thankful for this food. We know that we are evil perverted faggots who love to suck dick and get a cock up our perverted boy-pussies. We know that we are lower than shit and only fit to sleep and eat and fuck with barnyard animals. We know that we are useless, mindless, dickless little cunts, and we are truly thankful that Lakeland Academy is willing to take the time to try to make something useful out of our worthless assholes, for this, we are truly grateful.”
The two hundred boys sat in silence.
“Very nice prayer, Collins,” the twenty-seven-year-old bespectacled English teacher remarked to the fourteen-year-old boy. “Would you like to sit on my lap during lunch?”
Bobby, who was sitting at a front table, could see the color drain from the blond boy’s face.
“Oh…yes, sir!” The boy said
Collins climbed the stairs of the stage to the head table. The teacher stripped off the boy’s tee shirt and shorts and put him on his lap. For a few moments, he toyed with the boys nicely developed hairless, smooth chest, pulling at the big pouty nipples and rubbing the flat, tight tummy while Collins sat like a puppet on his lap. Then, the teacher pushed on the boy’s shoulders, and the fourteen-year-old boy slid down until he was beneath the table.
“Enjoy your lunch, Collins,” another teacher quipped, and everyone laughed.
Bobby hated lunch. The boys were forbidden to speak. As a new boy, he was not allowed to use utensils. He was forced to stick his face in the food and eat it with no hands like some kind of animal. The boys even had to lap their milk out of saucers. Watching boys like Bobby struggle for the first few days provided endless amusement for the faculty. The older boys ate different food from the new boys because, unknown to the boys, the faculty had a little fun spiking a new boy’s food. The beef stew often contained boy shit or sometimes even horse shit from the barn. The lads’ pizza might be covered with cheese mixed with boy spunk or even faculty snot. And, of course, the milk often had horse or dog cum in it. A varied diet makes a boy healthy!
During lunch, one sixteen-year-old boy, who reached for a straw without permission, was stopped mid-reach by a trustee.
“I forgot,” the big husky sixteen-year-old boy stammered, tears filling his big brown eyes.
“Too late now,” the trustee said, a gleam in his own green eyes.”Oh well, might as well use the straw. Stand on the table and shove the straw up your dick!”
The room grew silent, even of the sounds of eating, as the hunky sixteen-year-old boy with the athlete’s body climbed upon the table and stripped off his tight white shorts. He had a fat cock, nice and meaty. He whimpered as he brought the thick plastic straw to his pisshole.
“It was a mistake…I was…I was watching the new boy and…” he stopped speaking, one hand holding his dick, the other the straw.
“Yeah, probably filling your fucked up head with indecent thoughts about fucking the new boy’s little ass with that hammer of yours. You’ve got ten seconds to get six inches of straw up your pisshole!”
“Trouble at your table?” a faculty member inquired.
“No, sir, just reprimanding a lower classman who reached for a straw without permission.”
“Very well, carry on then.”
“Five seconds, asswipe,” the trustee yelled, and the sixteen-year-old jock boy jammed the straw into his pisshole, screaming as he did so. Bobby closed his eyes. Had he not heard somewhere that hell was eternal?
The English teacher was now bouncing the fourteen-year-old boy on his lap.
After lunch, all the boys were told to line up and taken for a piss break. They were marched to the big tiled room marked ‘Cunts.’ Still bare-assed naked except for the tank top and tennis shoes Bobby fell in line behind a curly-haired kid who looked too young to be in any reform school. Behind him an older boy, a well-toned hunk quite a bit taller than Bobby was and really buff, stepped in line, pushing another kid back. The older boy rubbed his large tan hand over Bobby’s ass. Then he ran one finger down the twelve-year-old ass crack. Bobby turned to look into the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen in his life.
“You got a problem, cunt?” a trustee asked.
Bobby, who was learning fast, snapped his face forward.
“Then face front!”
The boys were marched out the door and down the hall. Just as they were approaching the cunt room, the boy behind Bobby leaned in slightly and whispered, “You have the most beautiful fucking ass I’ve ever seen in my life. I think I’m in love with you, or at least your ass.”
Then the teen boy chuckled as Bobby blushed. No boy had ever made a pass at him before. However, this was a new experience. The older kid did not say it cruelly at all, not like the other boys at Lakeland. He said his words really sweet, and his voice was like thick honey, low and hoarse. As they went through the big wooden door into the white tiled room, the boy leaned in again.
“Make sure you get in line in front of me for the evening shit break!”
The boys lined up across the tiled trenches from each other in the warm, humid room, and then at a trustee’s command, the boys turned to face each other. Several faculty members and some strange men in business suits were watching. A whistle blew, and all the boys stripped off their white shorts. Now, two hundred boys—two hundred dicks and four hundred boy balls on display—stood in the big room looking at each other over long trenches in the floor. Not one boy touched himself. Bobby looked around at the cocks and balls of the boys near him of every size and shape, thick uncut dicks and tiny pencil-thin wieners, big pink schlongs and delicate little flowers. Bobby had never seen so much kid dick.
“Eyes front,” growled Brian who was monitoring Bobby.
Bobby looked across the two and a half foot trench and found himself looking at the boy who had been behind him in line. The kid ran his eyes down over Bobby’s tummy to his prick and balls, and then raised his eyebrows and winked. Bobby’s eyes ran down the muscled tan body of the other boy to look at his equipment, a huge fucking hose of an uncircumcised prick hanging over two lemon-sized nuts. Bobby guessed the boy to be about sixteen. The boy had either a golden tan or naturally dark skin, smoldering dark eyes, short choppy black hair, a straight thin nose with flared nostrils, sensuous full lips and a permanent fuck you sneer.
Another whistle blew, and all the boys began to piss. Two hundred pissing boy dicks, two hundred streams of yellow pee cascading down into the tiled troughs. Bobby heard one of the teachers say to one of the men in a business suit.
“You see how efficient it is. We get the little cunts in and out in no time. Also nice to watch.”
The boy across from Bobby kept eye contact. Bobby was straight, and still, he was hypnotized by the teen boy’s great beauty. Then the teen boy gave his hips a push, and his big pissing dick bounced and sent a spray of pee up out of the trench to hit Bobby in the stomach. Several boys laughed as Bobby stepped back. His own dick started pissing on the floor. He reached for it but remembered to control himself in time.
“Back in line, pussy face.”
Bobby stepped back, glowering at the teen boy, who made a pouty mouth at him and moved his hips again, this time making patterns with his piss in the trough. Another bell rang, and the boys stopped pissing. If a boy hadn’t finished by that time, he simply had to hold it. Then a trustee yelled, “Shake piss,” and all the boys jumped and wiggled to shake the drops of excess piss off their dickheads. Bobby followed suit and jumped, his finely arched tennis shoe shod feet bouncing on the white tiles, his bag and prick flopping up and down. Then another whistle and the boys dressed again and marched off to afternoon classes. Bobby was pulled aside by Brian.
“Since you don’t have a class schedule yet, you report to the photographer for your school ID.”
The photography studio was at the end of a secluded hallway. Brian deposited Bobby at the door and then left. Bobby went through the double wooden doors into a dark, warm room decorated with lots of curtains and rolls of paper in various colors. Standing before him was the strangest sight he had ever seen. A boy dressed in only a lavender jock strap. A boy about his own age and height and weight, but decorated most unusually. Each of the boy’s shell-shaped ears was pierced about twenty times. Silver hoops cluttered the ears and earlobes. The boy’s nose had a silver ring through it, and each nostril had a stud through it. The boy’s eyebrows had two silver hoops, and his lower lip had a ring through it. The lad had a slender, youthful body, perhaps even more boyish than Bobby’s prepubescent form. Both the kid’s nipples were pierced with rings, and not only that but the nipples themselves were long and red like tiny dicks. Bobby had never seen such nipples on a girl or boy. The kid’s belly button was pierced and ringed as well.
“Hi,” the kid said in a real friendly way. “You must be Bobby. I’m Tad, but everybody out there calls me Pincushion. Listen, before you meet Mr. Dickerson, let me tell you some stuff. Dickerson’s a really nice man…well, nice compared to everyone else around here. I got this job here as his assistant, and it’s practically heaven. He doesn’t beat or torture us or anything. So you be really nice to him cause he may be the only friend you have around here. That’s unless you like to be beaten and tortured.”
“No, I don’t.”
Bobby couldn’t stop staring at the boy’s rings and his distended nipples. The kid had a very youthful smooth boyish face, quite beautiful, and the piercings were incongruous and alarming in such a setting. A pleasant looking middle-aged man dressed in slacks and sweater came out of the darkness.
“Ah, you’ve met Tad, I see. And you must be Bobby, pleased to meet you.”
He held out his hand, and Bobby felt like a human being for the first time all day.
“I’m Mr. Dickerson, and Tad here is my assistant. We have an obligation to photograph and measure you for Mr. Burke’s files. My goodness, where are your shorts, boy?”
“I never got any,” Bobby stammered.
Tad laughed as Mr. Dickerson made a clicking noise.
“The butt of a cruel prank, I’d say. Somebody’s been yanking your chain. By the way, nice chain. Well, shall we get started? Bobby, if you would kindly remove your tank top and tennis shoes and step up on that dais, no I think that one instead. I like the aubergine drapery behind it better. First, we have to measure you. I will do the honors and Tad will write down your vital statistics for Mr. Burke. Now, don’t be embarrassed, boy. We don’t enjoy this any more than you do, but we all have our jobs.
Mr. Dickerson took a measuring tape and got to work.
“Height, five foot. Waist, twenty-four. My, my you’re a petite little thing, aren’t you?”
And so it went, very detailed. Dickerson measured Bobby’s shoulders, his chest, his hips, his neck his head, the length of his arms, even his fingers.
“Some of these measurements are just stupid if you ask me, Bobby, but Mr. Burke insists on it and who are we to argue with him, huh?”
Dickerson chuckled, and Bobby relaxed a bit. The guy was nice. The man next measured Bobby’s legs, calf and thigh, then his ankles and even the length and circumference of each toe. Then he raised the tape measure to Bobby’s dick.
“Now, don’t be embarrassed. This will be over in no time.”
He then measured the length of Bobby’s dick flaccid, the circumference of the dick stalk at the base and right behind the head itself, and the length and circumference of his ball bag. Bobby felt light headed and embarrassed. Also, the lunch he had had did not feel too good in his stomach. The food had tasted like shit. He hoped there was something better for dinner. A chalkboard had said pizza, but Bobby didn’t believe anything anymore.
Now, Dickerson measured each of the boy’s nuts. Then he measured the length of the boys piss slit. All this handling of the boy’s dick and balls made the cock thicken and swell a bit. Bobby stood stiffly on the podium being measured most intimately, while behind a smoky one-way window mirror at the end of the room, twenty men looked on.
While they watched the new boy’s humiliation, boys, naked as babies, sucked on the men’s big dripping dicks or bent over displaying their hot assholes waiting for a big dicked fuck. One curly haired lad of fifteen knelt open-mouthed while the man near him squeezed on his own big pisser, sending strings of pre-cum down into the kid’s mouth. Two other men had three fingers each in the ass of a sixteen-year-old boy and were trying for four. Meanwhile, the boy had to tell them in detail about fucking his girlfriend’s pussy before he landed at Lakeland.
“So did you two fuck every day after school then?” one man asked jamming three fingers as far as he could up the kid’s rectum.
“Did you ram her little cunt good and hard?” the other asked, matching his friend’s thrusts.
Another businessman had just shot a load of cum deep into a seventeen-year-old boy’s muscular ass, and how he grabbed a twelve-year-old boy by the back of the neck.
“Suck my slime out of his cunt, and you better do a good job.”
The boy buried his innocent young face between the older boy’s muscular ass globes and sucked on the fucked out shithole as hard as he could.
Back in the studio, Mr. Dickerson had finished measuring the distance between Bobby’s balls and his asshole and the width and length of the asshole itself. Bobby was breathing heavily, he did not know why.
“You know, kid, you got a little black hair on your nut sack and a couple around your asshole. Better get rid of that tomorrow morning. Mr. Burke doesn’t like that at all.”
Now they were ready for the photographs. Mr. Dickerson had Bobby dress in a traditional school uniform. Black blazer, white shirt, school tie, little beanie, grey shorts, knee socks, and shiny shoes. He took about a dozen shots of Bobby standing dressed that way. Bobby felt good to be clothed again. Next, Bobby was told to remove the blazer. Dickerson took shots of the boy stretching and turning, kicking a soccer ball, and eating a candy bar, which was delectable to Bobby.
“Now, tell me, Bobby, were you in any sports at your school?”
“Yes, sir, I swam and played soccer.”
“Well, we have some of you with the soccer ball, so let’s get some of you in a swimsuit. You’ll find one you can change into behind that screen.”
A few minutes later, Bobby came out wearing the most ridiculous swimsuit he had ever seen.
“Something is wrong with this,” he moaned.
“No, that’s the latest European swimsuit. Looks good on you.”
It was quite a sight. It was nothing more than a piece of bright pink netting. It formed a kind of pouch cupping Bobby’s twelve-year-old prick and balls and was attached with measly strings. The mesh was not even small, and Bobby’s pink fleshy scrotum skin could be easily seen through the material. It was more obscene than being nude. Bobby hated it.
In the back room, three middle-aged men could not control it and shot sprays of sloppy white spunk onto the face of an eight-year-old boy. The two guys, who now had four fingers each up the sixteen-year-old boy’s stretched ass-pussy, paused mid-thrust to look at Bobby.
“I can’t wait to work on that ass,” one of them sighed.
“Let’s concentrate on this double fist fuck first.
“Boy, if you don’t relax that pussy, it’s going to be all the harder for you,” his partner replied.
“Yeah, look how well fuckhole over there is doing.”
He was referring to a fourteen-year-old, thin, small lad who was entertaining a group of gentlemen by shoving his own fist in and out of his stretched out asshole.
In the studio, Dickerson was making Bobby pose in the pink pouch.
“Make a muscle! Good, good…now, lift one leg…good…now, twist your torso…good…now, turn around and bend over at the waist and look at me through your legs.”
Then Dickerson sat down and had a long intimate talk with the bent over Bobby.
“Look, Bobby, I’m really upset at the way boys are abused at this school. I love boys and don’t like to see them hurt. I have a crazy idea of how to make all of this horror stop, but I need your help. I hope you have the courage. It could even get the boys free if the idea works. Here’s my idea. If I take some really dirty photos of you and put them on the internet, then the school will be investigated, and they will see all the abuse going on. It will take courage because if Burke finds out, we’re both in trouble.”
In the other room, Burke, who was sitting on the face of a sixteen-year-old black boy getting his ass eaten out, had to laugh out loud, which made his dick that was down the throat of a fourteen-year-old boy twitch. He slapped the kid’s face.
“Breathe through your fucking nose, slug, and keep that big dick in your throat.”
Back in the studio, Dickerson had finally convinced Bobby to comply, as it was his only hope of escape. Dickerson took nude photos of the twelve-year-old boy.
“Spread your legs more…thrust your hips at the camera…give me more dick.”
“Oh, god, sir, I don’t like this. It’s…”
Bobby started to cry.
“Good. Tears are good. When thousands of people see this on the internet, they’ll storm this school in no time.”
“Thousands of people are going to see me naked?” Bobby whined.
“More, hundreds of thousands. When this story breaks and this school is closed, your bare-assed photos will be all over the tabloids. Turn around and spread your ass cheeks.”
“I don’t want people to see me like this,” the boy sobbed, spreading his pale ass cheeks to reveal the pink rosebud of his pussy pucker.
“I know. I don’t like doing this either but think of all the boys you’ll be saving, not to mention yourself. If you spread your legs and bend your knees, you can get your ass open farther. Spread your cheeks as wide as you can. Squat more so we can see your balls hanging there. The problem is that Burke will just claim these are just art photos. We got to make porn, so it’s really illegal. Tell you what, stick a finger up your asshole.”
Bobby was delirious with humiliation
“Oh…god…no…please, sir…don’t ask me to do that.”
“For the school, Bobby, to save the boys, stick a finger way up your asshole. Keep your head between your legs looking at the camera while you do it.”
Bobby poked one slender finger at his virgin asshole.
“Stick it way in. Hurry up, Bobby, we don’t have much time. If Burke finds out… Shove that finger up your boy-cunt.”
Tad was standing next to Dickerson rubbing the man’s swollen dick through his trousers. He was a good assistant, and he drank piss and ate shit like a pro too.
Bobby now had one slender finger up his poop chute.
“Great, this will really shock them. Now another get another one up there.”
All the while, Dickerson clicked photos.
“I can’t, my asshole is too small.”
“Come on, stretch that fucking hole. We gotta close this school. So it hurts a little. You can do it, boy. Get two fingers way up there.”
Bobby moaned, tears dripping from his face to the podium. Bobby, his perfect ass facing the camera, his balls swinging, and his head down between his legs, shoved a second finger up his tight asshole.
“Smile now, smile at the camera.”
Dickerson then had Bobby stand up and turn around.
“Now get a hard-on for us.”
“Oh…I can’t…I can’t do that…not in front of anybody.”
“Come on. I’ve got my ass on the line trying to save you here. We need porno so beat that dick hard.”
Bobby pulled his fingers from his asshole. Then his face got very, very red.
“I’ve got…” he cried, “…I’ve got poop on my fingers.”
“Who cares, you can shower later. Now, beat your dick until it’s nice and stiff. You got a nice big one there.”
Bobby jacked his dick with his shitty hand. He felt just awful like he wanted to die. The men in the other room almost died laughing at the boy’s inhibited embarrassment. Several of them got inspired to play shit games of their own. The boys hated that the most. In the studio, Bobby was on all fours. His seven-inch hard prick swaying and bouncing. He could not stop crying and was now bawling like a baby.
“Great… Great…” Dickerson said as he shot pictures and Tad rubbed his fat dick.
“Now lift one leg like you were a dog taking a piss, lift the leg higher so we can see your balls and cock.”
Bobby was hysterical and just followed orders like a pet.
“Lift that leg higher…great…now, on your back…see if you can get your legs up over your shoulders…show us your whole cock and balls and asshole…keep that dick hard.”
How much abuse can one little twelve-year-old boy take? How much before the mind snaps, before the will is broken?
Let’s see, shall we?
Bobby was met at the door to the photography studio by Brian. Brian put his large teenage hands on the boy’s face and wiped his pale cheeks free of tear stains. He let his fingers linger on the soft boy flesh then ran one digit over the boy’s quivering lips. Bobby looked so confused, so worn and broken.
“Hey, little cunt, it looks like you been crying. If you think Mr. Dickerson was rough, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Your next stop is Doc Trotter for your physical examination.”
Bobby was led almost naked through the halls. Mr. Dickerson had insisted that he dress in the pink net posing pouch that he had used for the pornographic photos and his tennis shoes, but he would not give the boy back his tank top. The net bag that covered his prick and balls was almost more obscene than being nude down there. His smooth as velvet ball bag pushed through the netting, and his boy dick could be seen curled up and straining against the pink material. Brian patted the boy’s crotch.
“Cute…very cute,” he said.
Bobby was taken to Doc Trotter’s office and left sitting on a cold metal chair in a very scary office full of threatening metal equipment that looked like machines of torture to poor Bobby. The twelve-year-old boy was feeling quite ill now from the awful lunch he had eaten. The chef had put a liberal dose of laxative in the boys’ food to keep them with the shits all day, knowing they would not be given permission to evacuate their bowels. Poor Bobby’s tummy ached as he sat on the metal chair in his pink pussy pouch and looked around the room. The door on the far side opened, and Doctor Trotter came in. Trotter was a nice looking man of thirty-five. Trotter was a boy lover with his own peculiar brand of a turn on. He was a terrible alcoholic who had lost his license for giving a fourteen-year-old boy a hernia operation that left the kid without balls by mistake.
“So you must be Bobby, what’s with the pink pussy pouch, you a faggot?”
Bobby was mortified. Whereas Mr. Dickerson had at least seemed kindly, Doctor Trotter was gruff and abrasive.
“No, sir, Mr. Dickerson gave this to me to wear.”
“Yeah, tell me another one. Perverts like you just wear that shit to give the other boys hard-ons. You know, if a boy gets a hard-on, he’s punished for having dirty thoughts, so why do you tempt them?”
“Honest, sir, I was made to wear this by Mr. Dickerson. You see I have no shorts and—”
“Oh, so you were parading around showing your dick to everyone, huh? What kind of pervert are you? Stand up, boy. Take off that ball sack and let’s see you.”
Bobby untied the pink net pouch and was soon standing in just his high tops, a perfect specimen of innocent boyhood. His full five-inch flaccid cock hung arced over his plump, juicy, young scrotum. Trotter needed a drink.
“I gotta give you an examination, so hop up on the table.” Bobby climbed up onto the examination table and sat with his strong boyish legs dangling off the side. “Lose the shoes,” Trotter growled.
Bobby kicked off his high tops revealing his perfectly arched boy feet. First, Trotter did the obvious. He checked the boy’s heart, letting the cold stethoscope play around Bobby’s nipples until they were hard as little pebbles.
“You need to develop your tits, boy. I’m going to put you down for tit training.”
Bobby didn’t know what that was and didn’t want to know. Next, Trotter checked the boy’s pulse.
“Stick out your tongue,” he barked. Bobby did. “Farther…much farther…Burke will not be happy with that. He likes a boy who can give good tongue action. Why that tongue would hardly fit past the outer rectum muscles. Stick it out.”
Bobby stretched out his tongue until it really hurt, but Doc Trotter wasn’t satisfied.
“Here, let’s see if this helps.”
He placed something metal on Bobby’s tongue that hurt real bad, a clamp of some sort that painfully kept the tongue stretched out of the boy’s mouth. With Bobby gagging and moaning, he examined the boy’s ears and nostrils, letting his hands roam all over the soft, innocent face. Then he told the boy to lie back.
“Put your feet in these stirrups. Doctors use these to examine cunts, but since you’re a drug pusher, we got to make sure you didn’t sneak any drugs in here.”
Doc Trotter lifted the Bobby’s slender, muscular legs, fitted the boy’s feet in the metal holders, and then strapped them in so he could not escape. Bobby tried to protest that he would not have drugs, but he couldn’t talk with his tongue clamped. His smooth young body twisted and writhed on the table. His hips rose, and his ass banged the table making his prick and balls bounce, making him even more desirable. Doc Trotter loved it.
“Now, I’m not only going to check your asshole for drugs but also hemorrhoids. You just lay still, and it’ll be over soon.” He took a metal tool in his hands. “This is a cunt spreader. It’ll hold your ass lips open while I inspect.”
Bobby felt the cold metal tool inserted into his asshole. Then the doctor opened it, and Bobby screamed as his ass lips were pulled wide apart. Next, the doctor stuck one finger in the boy’s hole and felt around.
“Humph…prostate seems healthy. You obviously haven’t been fucked too much by the school football team. I heard a rumor you were the school cunt, is that true? What did you do, suck off the teams mostly? Your cunt is still nice and tight. I bet I can get two fingers in there.”
The agony lasted for twenty minutes before the doctor pulled his fingers out. Bobby did not see the pervert lick them. Next, he checked the boy’s balls, rolling them in his fingers. He loved the soft sack and the big boy nuts inside.
“Did Burke beat your balls, boy?” he asked while fingering the scrotum and making Bobby very uncomfortable.
“Humph…I’m sure you deserved it. Still and all, he’s gonna ruin good milking material the first day if he keeps that up. Your left nut is bruised and swollen. Let me check your pisshole.”
Trotter pried open the boy’s piss lips, and Bobby gasped in pain as the doctor poked a Q-tip in.
“So your piss lips are still nice and sensitive.”
He produced a bag and a hose.
“Okay, now I’m going to give you an enema. Ever had one?”
Bobby tried to talk with the clamp on his tongue.
“I dthon no wa ittis, thir.”
“We clean you out. Get rid of all the shit inside of you. I stick this nozzle in your asshole and fill you with soapy water. Then you hold it until I tell you to shit it out.”
Bobby watched in horror as Doc Trotter fitted a giant penis-shaped nozzle on the end of the hose. It must have been six inches long and quite thick. Then the doctor, without using lubrication since he did not believe in it, jammed the nozzle up the boy’s asshole. Bobby screamed in pain. His young body shook, his ass banged down on the table, but the tube stayed inside his beautiful young ass. He watched as his tummy bloated with water. Christ, he looked pregnant.
“Tttthsss enough, thir,” he moaned, cramps shooting through his guts.
“Now, I’m just going to plug you so you can’t shit until I want you to.”
The doctor removed the hose and inserted a butt plug. Then he unfastened Bobby’s legs and helped the boy sit up, his tummy horribly distended.
“Now, boy, we need a urine sample. Please piss into this dish for me.”
Humiliated and in pain, Bobby pissed into the dish. The old pervert watched the boy’s peeing dick with glee. Finally, he released the boy’s tongue, and, at first, Bobby could not control it, as it hung limply from his mouth and would not work. It was charming. Doctor Trotter helped the bloating, pain-wracked boy sit on the very edge of the table.
“I need a sperm sample. When was the last time you shot a load, boy?”
“When I was in custody after my hearing, one of the policemen made me undress and climb up on his desk and jack my, you know my thingie for a bunch of cops.”
“And when was that?”
“Almost a week ago.”
“My…my…you must be bursting at the seams. Not milked in a week. Well, my boy, I’m going to milk you. We don’t believe in letting boys play with their dicks here at Lakeland. It creates unhealthy ideas in their fucking little heads. But once in a while, a boy needs a good milking to clean him out. Besides, I need a spunk sample. So get on your hands and knees, like the fucking animal you are. Now, let me hold your dirty little dick, so I can milk this fucker dry.”
The doctor reached beneath the boy, grabbed the twelve-year-old prick, and started to pump. Well, Bobby, who had been terribly aroused by having to pose for Mr. Dickerson with a hard-on, but given no relief, got throbbing hard in no time. His prick was squirting pre-cum all over the place. His body wracked with the pain in his gut and the pleasure in his prick.
“Ever fuck any twat, boy?”
“No, sir,” Bobby panted.
“Ha…a lot of young girl pussy would enjoy this nice thick boy cock, too bad they’ll never get a sample.”
Bobby was bucking his hips, his beautiful ass rising and falling as he fucked into the doctor’s hand. Doc Trotter slid a metal dish beneath the throbbing boy dick seconds before Bobby blew one of the biggest loads of his life. His big boy feet curled, his back arched, his ass pumped, his chest expanded and his prick shot a geyser of fuck-sauce into the dish.
“Good…very good…now relax. I suppose you want to shit.”
Bobby was groaning and holding his bloated stomach, curled up in a fetal position. The orgasm he had made the pain in his guts more intense. The boy looked so damn cute lying like that in a little ball—smooth young ass sticking out and legs tucked up into his tummy with his head thrown back in pain—that the doctor decided to let him stay that way for a while. In fact, he took a few pictures to capture the moment before he ordered the boy to squat over another metal dish.
“Now, I’m going to remove the butt plug, but you don’t shit until I give you permission. Understand?”
Bobby groaned in answer. The doctor slid the rubber butt plug from the boy’s stretched rectum. It made a loud, sucking sound. Then Doc Trotter stood back and bent down.
“Now, make sure I can see the shit coming out. I got to make sure your organs are healthy and in working order. Lift your balls a little, fine, now go ahead and shit!”
Poor Bobby had never had such a powerful shit in his young life. He shit until his stomach was empty. He shit until his guts ached and almost turned inside out. He shit until his smooth young body was coated with a silver sheen of sweat. He glowed from shitting. His hair was wringing wet and plastered down across his forehead and eyes. His full pink lips were parted, his tongue hung limply between them. And still, turd after watery turd mixed with sprays of brown water dropped into the metal bowl. Twice he almost fell over and twice Doc Trotter had to steady him. Doc had to remind himself to edit himself out of the videotape later. At last, the boy was finished. The doctor gave him some tissues to wipe his ass with and watched with great interest as the boy cleaned his asshole. Bobby was exhausted and half-delirious, just the way the faculty at Lakeland likes to keep their boys.
“Well, you seem perfectly healthy to me. You may begin classes tomorrow. Just two more things, a blood test and then some vitamins I want you to take.”
“A blood test?”
Bobby hated needles. It was an irrational fear of his.
“Yes, surely you’ve had a blood test before. Nothing to worry about.”
Doc Trotter sensing the boy’s fear produced the largest needle he had. Bobby gulped. It was fully four inches long and quite thick.
“Oh, my god…not that.”
“Just a simple blood test. Now, spread your legs.”
“Spread my legs?”
“We always take the blood from the boy’s penis.”
The doctor grabbed the boy’s deflated cock still dripping a bit of fuck sauce, mixed with pee and jammed the needle into the cock head. Bobby almost went through the roof. Of course, the doctor was just trying to be funny. He couldn’t draw enough blood from the dickhead. So next, he had the boy roll over and attacked the beautiful ass. He jammed the needle deeply into Bobby’s perfect right ass cheek.
While Bobby felt the blood drawn from his ass, his thoughts returned once more to the boy who had stood across from him at the piss trough. The boy was so handsome and seemed so strong, poor Bobby was sure the older lad could protect him. Bobby remembered the boy’s big uncut dick and the way the boy had complimented his ass. Twelve-year-old Bobby didn’t know it yet, but he was developing a crush on the older golden-skinned kid.
Lastly, the doctor told Bobby he wanted to give him some vitamins, as he probably was not going to be eating well until he adjusted to the school. In his back room, he did include vitamins in the mix that also contained some of Bobby’s own shit and cum, some of the cum of a previous boy patient, a little horse piss, and some teenage boy snot. He blended all the stuff and poured it into a glass.
“Here you are. It doesn’t taste the best in the world, but it’s nice and healthy for you. Drink it all up now.”
Bobby looked at the green and brown lumps floating in the milky substance. It was sickening. But what could he do? He raised the glass and drank. He wanted to throw up but knew that would be bad, so he kept the awful mixture down. The taste was bitter and chalky, which stayed with him all the way back to the dorm, where he decided to get to work reading the school handbook. He eased his sore ass down on the metal bedsprings and began to read. What he read blew his mind.
You have been sent to Lakeland Academy to try to salvage a ruined life. You have sinned against society, and your only chance for salvation is to straighten out your evil ways here at Lakeland Academy with the guidance of the trained Lakeland staff of faculty, counselors, and trustees. This handbook informs you as to the rules and regulations at our school, designed for your physical and mental health. It is also designed to purge you of the nastiness and the selfish desires that motivate most of your actions. Boys your age, eight to eighteen, are motivated mostly by uncontrolled sexual desire. Many of you are here because of rape or drug charges. Our goal is to break you of your sick, perverted sexual dependency, and our success rate is one hundred percent.
We wrote this handbook in simple language, so even the most blockheaded boy can understand it. Memorize the rules, to break them in any way is to incur harsh punishment. We help you help yourself to cleanse your bodies and your spirit!
Talking to other boys is strictly prohibited except during designated social periods. Subjects for discussion during social periods cover a variety of topics provided by the dorm leaders.
A bell rings at seven thirty a.m. sharp. You must quickly jump out of bed and stand at the foot of your bed at attention, hands at sides. Although the erection of the penis is strictly forbidden, as it implies a perverted mind, we tolerate a morning piss hard. To let your dorm leader know that you are not having lustful thoughts, you shout out the words “Piss hard, sir!” every fifteen seconds until excused by your dorm leader.
Your dorm leader inspects your thighs and pubic areas each morning for signs of nocturnal sexual emissions. After inspection, you step into line and march down to the cunt room for your morning urination and defecation. Make sure to take your package of moist towelettes with you. Use the towelettes sparingly, as you receive only one box each week.
In the cunt room, you queue up naked with the other boys. When the first bell rings, the first boy in line walks to the yellow mark on the floor by the trenches, the rest of the line falls into place with each boy one-foot behind the boy in front of him. The first boy squats to urinate and defecate until the bell rings again. Then the second boy wipes the anus of the first boy clean with a moist towelette. We do not permit boys to touch themselves because it encourages masturbation, ball scratching, anal fingering, and other evil things. When the first boy is clean, the second boy throws the towelette into the trench and then squats to urinate and defecate, and then he is wiped clean by the third boy and so on. During the cleaning ritual, no talking takes place. A faculty member may have a boy demonstrate his defecation ability to check on hygienic practices.
Once finished in the cunt room, you proceed to the shower room where a lower classman washes you. If you get an erection during your scrubbing, your dorm leader immediately removes you from the shower room and punishes you with ten hard strokes to the scrotum. You must learn to control your evil sexual urges.
After your shower, you enter the personal hygiene room. If you are old enough to shave, you apply hair removal cream to your face and body to remove unwanted hair. Boys under sixteen remove all body hair below the neck, leaving only a two-inch trimmed pubic bush of triangular shape above the prick. The prick bush itself is trimmed down to a quarter inch in length. Boys over sixteen may maintain specific body hair at the desire of his counselors. If you do not yet shave, you proceed to the body hair removal area where you straddle one of the mirrored sawhorses to pluck out scrotum and rectum hairs with tweezers.
It is in your body hairs that disease lurks. A smooth, hairless boy is a healthy boy. When you are free of all unwanted body hair, you ask a fellow student for a close inspection of your genitals and rectum to ensure you removed all hairs. You do this by turning to the nearest available boy and asking in a loud and clear voice, “Will you inspect my genitals and rectum, please?” For every scrotum or rectum hair discovered, you receive five testicle and two penis head swats!
To keep healthy, each boy reports three times a week to the enema room for a cleansing, refreshing enema, which is enjoyable once you get used to it.
We provide you with two sets of clothing: two tee shirts or tank tops, two pairs of shorts. While one set is worn, the other set is laundered. You change each day unless a dorm leader or trustee desires you to wear the same pair of shorts for several days. Each night the shorts are inspected for semen tracks, urine stains, and feces stains. Any marks inside your shorts lead to severe punishments. You also receive one pair of tennis shoes.
You are expected to attend all classes and to achieve a grade no lower than a B+. We turn you out of here as productive members of society. You take courses in English, Math, History, Computer Training, and Fine Arts such as drawing, theatre, and dance.
You are expected to participate in sports activities. You exercise naked in the ancient Greek tradition, except for tennis shoes. Nudity is not a bad thing of itself, only when accompanied by indecent sexual arousal. If you catch any boy staring at your genitals, you are required to tell a counselor or faculty member.
We also have woodworking shops and a unique leather design workshop. Avail yourselves of the opportunities at our school.
You report to the cafeteria twice a day for meals.
Breakfast is eaten on your own and purchased with earned credits. You sit at an assigned table in the lunchroom. If you are a first-year boy, you eat without utensils, bending your head to slurp the food out of your bowl. You eat all served food in its entirety. We often experiment with new and healthy foods, and although the taste may be a bit unusual, rest assured that we are filling you with the highest quality food. Waste not, want not.
At each meal period, a boy is asked to deliver an original grace that he has written. The prayer should emphasize your humbleness, the humility of your classmates, and the glory of the school. Listen carefully, so you catch on. If your grace is not acceptable, you are punished by having to sit on one of the peg benches for dinner. Peg benches have punishment pegs of six, eight, ten, and twelve inches. They were designed and made in our woodworking shop.
After each meal, there is a piss break.
To help you adjust, you attend a therapy session three times a week. These sessions are created to help you adapt to your new role in life and to rid you of pre-conceived notions you may have about yourself. For example, many of you who come to our school think you are sexy girl fuckers. You think of yourself as a real stud. Through our intense and caring therapy, you discover that you are not a girl fucker at all, but a homosexual who had been denying your feelings. Not only that, but you realize that you love to dress as a girl and be called cunt and pussy. You also develop a tremendous need for rough sex and toilet games. So you see we help you find your real self. You leave here between sixteen and eighteen to begin your new life, with a job as a naked go-go dancer in a backroom club, a prostitute on the street, or sold to the highest bidder. Therapy sessions are shaped to your particular needs and help you if you let them.
Each dorm has a song. You must memorize our dorm song.
We are the cunts of dorm thirteen
We eat and drink from the latrine.
Our dicks are small, our assholes big.
We fuck and suck just like a pig.
We love abuse, and we love pain.
So please, sir, hit us once again.
Our dorm leaders are the best.
They fuck our holes without a rest!
Bobby was so exhausted that he missed dinner and the evening toilet session. He fell asleep on the hard bedspring, and Brian let him sleep off his first exhausting day as a Lakeland cunt. Looking down at the bare-assed twelve-year-old boy sleeping on his hard bedspring, the metal indenting his back and adorable ass, Brian could not help but spring a boner. Bobby just seemed to bring out the fuck lust in all the older guys. It was not that Bobby was girlish in any way, just so young and vulnerable and innocent and fuckable. Everything about him just made you want to ram your dick into his boy pussy as hard as you could, not to mention shoving your fucker down his soft young throat until you could see the dick shape in the boy’s slender neck.
Bobby had been oblivious of old dirty men were always leering at him in the park, and some of them pretended to pat him in a friendly way but what they really wanted was an ass cheek or crotch grope on the boy.
In his sleep, Bobby would turn slightly, throwing one youthful, smooth leg out and curling one foot. Several times he almost brought his thumb up to his pouty mouth, a habit he’d had to fight since childhood. Bobby’s smooth tummy gave way to a smooth, soft pink groin and a limp, five-inch, pink prick. His balls lay big and relaxed on the bed spring. He was one fuckable baby all right.
The next morning Bobby got through inspection all right, although his morning piss hard was especially swollen and tight because he had to pee something fierce. His dick throbbed a full seven inches, looking even larger on a boy so small and young.
The poor seventeen-year-old boy in Bobby’s dorm got his tits worked over again by Brian. Bobby did not know how the poor boy could take it. Brian twisted and pulled the swollen nipples of the other boy, who even though he was bigger and stronger, just stood at attention, biting his lower lip and whimpering. Brian said his nipples would be prize winning by the time they finished with them.
The boys marched to the cunt room, piss hards bobbing and swaying. Yelling “Piss hard, sir” every fifteen seconds. In confusion, Bobby found himself facing the golden tanned boy with the big uncut prick from the day before inside the tiled room. The boy pushed his way in line behind Bobby.
“Hello, my little love,” he whispered. “I dreamed about you all night.”
Bobby was both so flattered and embarrassed that he could hardly breathe.
“Don’t worry, I’m right behind you, you’re safe with me,” the older kid whispered, and Bobby really did feel safe.
Soon the boy in front of Bobby was squatting and shitting, and Bobby knew he would have the horrible job of wiping the boy’s asshole clean. He watched the turds drop from the boy’s ass into the trench. Then the whistle blew, he moved down, smelling the awful smell from the trench. The boy ahead was eighteen and had a really muscular ass. It had two dimples in the cheeks, and the smooth ass cheeks were spread wide, revealing a rather large pink asshole. Bobby swallowed the vomit that rose in his throat and wiped the ass. He threw the shitty towelette into the trench and used a second.
“Careful baby, those got to last all week,” a voice whispered behind him.
Bobby refolded the shitty towelette and used it again to clean the hunky eighteen-year-old ass. The bell sounded, and it was Bobby’s turn. Several faculty members moved in to watch the new boy’s bowel movement. One of the adults had a video camera.
‘Oh my god, they’re all watching me piss and shit. I can’t believe it. How sick is this place,’ Bobby thought.
Bobby half-squatted one foot on either side of the trench. Bobby couldn’t hold back anymore, and he did his job in front of them. The bell sounded, and he squeezed one last log out. Then Bobby felt the boy behind him begin to wipe his ass. Oh, how terrible, this handsome older boy was wiping his ass like he was a baby.
“Keep ‘em spread, baby. Just enjoy it,” the older kid whispered.
The fingers toyed with his pink pucker. It did feel good. Bobby did enjoy it. He loved the touch of the older boy. Then instead of paper, he felt the boy’s fingers themselves on his asshole, playing with his rosebud. The finger began to insert itself. Bobby pressed back towards it, not caring, so happy for some affection.
“My name is Carlos,” the boy sighed, almost music to the younger kid’s ears, “and you’re going to be my girlfriend. I love you,” he spoke in a soothing voice before the bell rang and stopped them.
Later, Bobby went to his first class, English. He had the same white shorts like the other boys, although his shorts were a size too small and his dick and balls showed right through the thin material. His English teacher, Mr. Kane, was a handsome man in his mid-twenties who wore a white shirt with an eye-catching tie. He had a trim, muscular body, and his perfectly fitting slacks presented a tight round ass. He also wore dark-rimmed glasses, which gave him a distinguished look and set off his flashing green eyes.
The first hour of the class was a delight. Bobby could actually relax and listen to the class studying Twain’s Huckleberry Finn without fear of humiliation or abuse. The students each rose when they recited, and the boys did seem a bit frightened of being wrong, but otherwise, everything went smoothly. Then the tone suddenly changed. The kindly Dr. Jeckyll became the cruel Mr. Hyde. Mr. Kane suddenly turned the nature of the discussion to sex.
“There has been much written about whether or not Huckleberry and Jim had sexual relations, whether theirs was a queer relationship or not. What do you think, boys?”
Most of the boys offered the opinion that the two were just good friends.
“Yes, but Jim was a well-hung nigger, used to fucking two or three times a day probably.”
Bobby gasped at the teacher’s use of that foul word to describe a black person.
“And here they are stuck on this raft, and here’s this cute little teenage white boy with a darling little fuckable ass right in front of him. I mean, who would blame him for wanting to relieve his big twelve inch fuck tool in that boy pussy?”
The class grew quiet, and Bobby could feel the discomfort level rise. Many of the boys looked down at the floor.
“Now, we only have one African American boy in our class.
“Tyler, what do you think? Would Jim go for a little white boy pussy? Or, at least, have Huckleberry suck him off a couple times a day?”
The sixteen-year-old black boy hung his head in shame as he answered, “I don’t know, sir. I’m not Jim,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, but you’re a well hung black boy, aren’t you? I hear you were sent here for fucking white girls. Suppose no girls were available, and your big black dick just had to shoot off, would you go for some white boy ass?”
“No, sir, that’s dirty. It’s not natural.”
Tyler had beautiful big eyes and a smooth brown face with full sensuous lips and wide nostrils on his straight nose. His ears were round like shells, and his hair was close-cropped. Mr. Kane threw a boner looking at him.
“Not natural, shit, you’re a horny nigger on a raft. You got blue balls, and there’s some nice pink teenage boy ass available, you know fucking well you’d take it.”
“I don’t know, sir,” the boy mumbled, trying to hide behind the boy seated in front of him.
“Well then, Tyler, why don’t you just bring your big fat nigger dick up here in front of the class!”
The boy sniffed back tears and rose. Bobby could not help but stare at the massive lump in the boy’s tight, white shorts. Tyler walked to the front of the room.
“Is it true what they say, Tyler, about nigger dicks being so big?”
Mr. Kane was having the time of his life at the poor black boy’s expense. The boy was shaking his head and staring a the floor.
“Some…I guess…I don’t know, sir.”
“Well, suppose you peel off those shorts and show us your big black prick.”
“Please, sir, not in front of the class.”
“Tyler, I don’t want to have to repeat myself.”
The boy stripped down his shorts. Several boys in the class gasped out loud. Tyler did have a humongous eight-inch flaccid dick and balls the size of softballs. It was a sight to behold.
“Now, Johnson, get up here.”
Johnson was a fourteen-year-old blond boy small of stature and svelte. He had a cute punky face with a button nose and a few freckles.
“Johnson, take off your shorts.”
The boy obeyed at once.
“Now, class, by comparison, look at Johnson’s puny prick, that dickie can’t be more than an inch flaccid. Johnson was really embarrassed by his small dick. His dorm captain calls him Pencil Prick.
“Okay, Johnson, since your dick is useless, show Tyler your ass. Wiggle it at him like you’re Huck, and he’s Jim. Huck’s probably hungry to slurp on that big black fuck sausage. He wants it up his boycunt, so wiggle that ass!”
Johnson wiggled his ass, and his blond hair fell over his eyes, and Mr. Kane began stroking the black boy’s flaccid cock with his fingers, gently pumping the black prick, which swelled almost immediately. Tyler groaned, obviously enjoying the fingers on his dick.
“Does that turn you on, Tyler?” Kane asked as Johnson continued to wiggle his smooth white ass at the black boy.
“Oh, god, don’t do this.”
“Does that nice, pink boy pussy turn you on, black boy? Just like Jim was turned on by Huck’s freckled teenage ass? Did they fuck on that raft, boy? Did they fuck their brains out?”
Tyler was grinding his hips into the frigging fist of the teacher.
“Yeah, just an animal, that’s what you are, Tyler, a fuck hungry animal. You’d rape any ass available, and so would Jim.”
He released his hand to reveal Tyler’s twelve and a half inch throbbing dripping dick. Tyler fucked the air for a few seconds. He was sobbing with sex need. Tyler’s prick was pulsing getting ready to cum. The big black pisshole opening and closing and string of pre-fuck drooling to the floor.
“Alright, lose that hard on you fucking pervert!” Mr. Kane snapped. “I said, lose it.”
Kane slapped Tyler hard on the big nutsack, sending the boy to the floor. Tyler moaned and held his bruised ballbag as his dick wilted.
“Stop waving that boy pussy in our faces, Johnson. You’re such a pathetic faggot.
“Now, class, your assignment for tomorrow is to speculate on the sexual relations of Jim and Huck. I want a two thousand word essay on their fucking and sucking on the raft. Write it in the style of Twain, and be graphic and specific. If your paper is not detailed enough, you will be punished. I also want you to include at least one sexual perversion in their copulation. You may choose what you think is a perversion. However, if it’s not kinky enough, you will get an F. Remember these were poor, uneducated country people, so they probably did lots of disgusting things. Tom and Becky were probably fucking at twelve, so imagine what Huck and Jim were doing. Class dismissed!”
Tyler’s troubles were not over, and Bobby’s were just starting. The next class was Drama, taught by a very faggy Mr. Swanson.
“We want to welcome you to our class, Robert. We are currently studying Romeo and Juliet. Scenes from the play will be performed at our annual Arts Night, where guests from outside come to see our boys perform. We’ve just reached the scene where Romeo and Juliet are married, and he sneaks into her bedroom for their marriage night fuck.
‘Jesus,’ thought Bobby, ‘is all anyone thinks about around here is fucking?’
“Tyler is playing Romeo, and I think you, as our new guest, should be Juliet.”
The class, a bit more relaxed than in Mr. Kane’s English class, chuckled. Some teachers you could relax a bit more with as long as you fed their sick perversions.
“Oh, I’d…ugh…really…um…rather not. Can’t I…ugh…just…ugh…watch today?” Bobby stammered.
“Oh, I’d really rather you would. Now get your ass up here young man, no dillydallying.”
Swanson had heard about the new boy’s tasty ass and couldn’t wait to see it.
“Now, the play picks up with the morning after the night before,” Swanson laughed at his way with words, “but I’ve made a tape recording playing both parts myself of what the two young lovers did the night before and as an exercise in acting background, building a history for what your character does off stage. I want you boys to act out what I have the characters say on the tape. First, we need costumes.
“Tyler, you’ll find your tights behind that screen. Go and put them on and surprise us.”
Once again humiliated beyond belief, the black boy stepped behind the screen.
“And, Bobby, as Juliet, why don’t you slip this on.”
Mr. Swanson held up a transparent pink shorty nightgown.
Bobby started to put on the flimsy thing over his tank top and shorts. Swanson stopped him.
“Dear boy, we don’t get dressed for bed over our clothing. What are you, a heathen? Juliet wants to be sensual for her husband, she wants to entice him, how can you entice dressed like a clown!”
If Bobby had had any tears left, he would have cried, but they were long gone. His dull eyes were dry and accepting, but the humiliation burning inside of him was as fervent as ever. His face turned red as he stripped down his shorts and slipped off his tank top. Once again, he stood nude boy with his dick and balls on display. Swanson tilted his head to get a good look at the ass meat on this young colt before Bobby put on the frilly pink see-through nightgown. It was so short that the head of his dick hung out about half an inch at the bottom.
“Perfect fit,” Swanson cooed.
Bobby felt utterly stupid in the diaphanous thing. His nipples, his dick and balls, and everything showed right through. The boy’s breathing grew labored. The pain returned to his gut—an ominous pain of warning.
“Now, a matching ribbon for your hair,” Swanson pinned a large pink ribbon to Bobby’s black hair, pausing long enough to run thin tentacle-like fingers over the boy’s smooth face, “and just a touch of lipstick.” The teacher smeared some red on Bobby’s lips, making him look like a whore. “And lastly, these nice high heel shoes because she would dress up for her lover; I think they should fit your big boy feet.”
Christ! They had a six-inch heel! The class roared openly as Bobby struggled into the shoes. The school encouraged the boys to laugh at each other’s misfortune; laughter is good and helps the humiliation. Bobby trying to balance on the awful shoes fell on his ass, and the room rocked with boy laughter. He scrambled to his feet.
Bobby was the perfect cunt! His youthful gentle features made him look like a girl. Of course, the dickhead was hanging out of the nightgown, and the brown discs of his masculine nipples were showing through the material, but he was a sweet young pussy nonetheless. More than one boy in the room had a hard-on watching the kid.
“All right, Romeo, we’re ready for you, if you’d care to join us,” Swanson yelled
Poor Tyler made his appearance. Well, for one thing, the tights were too small. They barely made it up past his muscular black legs and over his crotch. They rode low on the hips. The top of his black pubic bush was showing through the white tights, which were almost as transparent as Bobby’s nightgown. The African American’s huge dick slab and pendulous boy balls bulged obscenely, the brown sex organ plainly visible through the lightweight white material. Bobby could see the fat dickhead, the shape of the entire prick, and the smooth black ball bag. In his hand, Romeo carried a sword that was really an eight-inch dildo with a handle. Mr. Swanson and the class lost it. They bellowed with laughter until they cried.
Tyler just cried. Tyler was a bit old to cry, you say. Well, he was a sensitive boy and new at Lakeland himself. He had been found fucking his white girlfriend who planned to run away with him. The girl’s family took a dim view of a nigger dicking their daughter, so he was convicted of rape with the assistance of the police.
Bobby marveled at the boy’s muscular chest, sporting two quarter-sized nipples. Tyler was the most beautiful black youth.
Swanson hit the tape recorder play button. That awful theme from the Romeo and Juliet film of the sixties filled the room.
“Now you must enact what the characters say, and remember to put your all into it. You are actors performing for an audience. Make me believe you!”
“Romeo…Romeo, I hold out my arms to you. Embrace with those strong arms of yours, your humble Juliet!”
Tyler moved awkwardly across the room as the kids leaned sideways to get a good look at the black boy’s tights covered ass.
“Juliet, the smell of thy sweet sex lured me here tonight, no map was needed. Thy pussy was my compass, and your sweet cunt my marital bed.”
Swanson glowed at his brilliant Shakespearean language. The stupid pricks in the class would miss the subtleties, of course. Ah, well, one suffers for art.
“Kiss me, Juliet, kiss thy husband.”
Oh, god! Bobby could not kiss another boy. Not in front of the whole class, not anyplace. He was not queer!
“Kiss me, darling,” the tape said again as if prompting him.
As Bobby leaned up for the kiss, he could smell the sweet scent of Tyler’s sweat, the sweat of humiliation and fear. Bobby pressed his lips to Tyler’s smooth cheek. Swanson stopped the tape.
“No…no…no…no, for god’s sake, what kind of actors are you? They’re not on a first date. They’re husband and wife on their wedding night. On the mouth, on the mouth.”
Bobby touched his twelve-year-old lips to another boy’s mouth for the first time in his life. Tyler’s thick lips were full and rich.
“For god’s sake, Romeo, tongue fuck the cunt, get your tongue in her mouth. Let’s see some sloppy kissing.”
The two boys stood kissing in front of the whole class. Tyler jammed his tongue down into Bobby’s mouth. Tyler’s prick got hard almost immediately forcing itself up and out of the waistband of the tights, which got a huge laugh from the captivated boy audience.
“Not good enough, Tyler, swap spit in five seconds or I arrange a visit to The Pit!”
At that, the class grew silent. Tyler grabbed Bobby, pressing him to his hard black body and rammed his tongue down the boy’s throat, saliva gushed out from between the boys’ faces. Romeo sucked Juliet’s face, sucking her lips into his big mouth. Bobby shook with fear and excitement. He could feel his own dick erecting.
The tape continued, “My milky breasts, virgin until thy touch, have longed for your lips too. Suck my titties, Romeo, take your fill.”
The mention of The Pit had shaken off Tyler’s shyness. He tore down Bobby’s pink nightie and gobbled the twelve-year-old boy’s left nipple.
“Suck that tit, boy, suck your wife’s tit!”
Tyler sucked Bobby’s nipple until the boy shrieked with pain. Tyler’s fat dickhead sticking up out of the tights squirted a considerable spray of pre-fuck onto both their bellies. The class was snickering again.
“The bed, take me to the bed, my starry-eyed husband.”
Tyler scooped Bobby up into his arms, leaving the pink nightie on the floor, and carried him to the prop bed in the middle of the classroom. The twelve-year-old boy was helpless, dizzy with lust and embarrassment. His own boy pisser was throbbing against his tummy and shooting small spurts of pecker juice. The big black boy carried him, sucking first on one nipple then the other. He laid the boy on the bed, standing over him like a satyr.
“Juliet, my fuck hole bride and love, strip off my tights so I can ram my sword deep within the sheath of thy body.”
The fucking tape droned on. All the boys were sitting on the edges of their seats now. Bobby reached out with shaking hands and touched the hot black skin of Tyler’s hips. His fingers grasped the white material of the tights.
“No, no, my love, show me your love and true devotion by stripping off my tights with your teeth!” the tape said.
Bobby knelt on the bed before the sweat-slick black sixteen-year-old boy. He looked up into Tyler’s lust-crazed eyes. He felt half Juliet succumbing to Romeo, half Huck Finn submitting to Jim. He was lost. His young mouth hung slack, and spittle dripped from it onto his chest where it mingled with sweat and cock juice spray. For some strange reason, Bobby’s asshole was twitching. He felt his rectal muscles opening and closing. He did not understand why. Tyler, looking down at him, suddenly let a gob of spit fall onto the young boy’s face.
“Do it, pussy,” he growled, and the room burst into spontaneous applause, led by Mr. Swanson. This was real acting!
Bobby leaned in, pressing his face against the sweaty stomach and took the waistband in his mouth. He dragged the tights down. His face brushing against the big throbbing dick and leaving a trail of fuck sauce on his cheek. Bobby almost drowned in the smell of Tyler’s dick meat. His balls gave off a scent of animal fuck that drove the twelve-year-old boy over the edge. Was this heaven or hell, good or bad? Lakeland really fucked up their boys!
“Lick my balls,” Tyler panted. Bobby hesitated too long, and Tyler slapped him. It was not a hateful slap, just one of needful lust. “Hurry up you cunt, lick my fucking balls before they explode!”
Swanson shut off the tape recorder. Tyler closed his eyes and imagined his white girlfriend. Bobby, half in a daze, leaned in and pressed his small pink tongue to the tightly stretched skin of the black boy’s bloated ball sack. For the first time in his life, he licked another boy’s scrotum. He was a ball licker. For the rest of his life, he would always be a ball licker. Bobby licked his own tears off the black ball bag. His fresh tears were not of pain but of lust at the realization that the school was already changing him. Tyler’s dick was running like a faucet, sending cascades of pre-fuck down over Bobby’s face. Both boys were grunting spastically, and then Tyler turned.
“My ass, kiss my asshole!” he said, and Swanson yelled, “Bravo.”
Bobby looked at the black boys high, round ass cheeks. He put his hands on them and spread the cheeks. God, what was happening to him? The smell of the sweaty ass washed over him. He could not sink that low. He could not kiss another boy’s asshole!
“Kiss that asshole, motherfucker, suck it!” Tyler shouted.
Bobby brought his face close to the boy’s musky ass. He breathed in ass smell. He was dizzy. His own dick was leaking like never before in his young life. His own asshole was throbbing. Fuck lust consumed the twelve-year-old boy. Just as he reached his tongue out to touch the thick-skinned brown pucker, the bell rang, signaling the end of class.
“We’ll stop right there for today, how about a hand for our actors?”
The class applauded. Tyler screamed in sexual frustration and fell to his knees, his fat dick painfully hard, and Bobby fell back on the bed, his own pisser waving wildly before him, his body covered with fuck slime, his mind reeling. What had he done in front of twenty boys, what had he done? Bobby realized that the days of his normal boyhood were behind him. Nothing was normal here, and he was being turned into a CUNT!
Bobby had never been so sexually frustrated in his young life. And the problem was when his big dick got all hard and aroused, nothing brought it down again except a good wank. He often had fun at home when his parents were gone walking around with a boner for hours because the damn thing just throbbed there bobbing and waving, slapping against his tummy, leaking slime like crazy.
He put his shorts on but they tented out so in front he could hardly pull them up. The head of his dick stuck out of the waistband, all red and swollen. A twelve-year-old boy in fuck need is like an elephant in heat. Tyler was in even worse condition. Mr. Swanson kicked them both out of the classroom, and there they stood in the corridor looking at each other, teen pissers swollen and drooling wanting release.
“Don’t let any teachers see that hard-on or it’ll be The Pit for you,” Tyler whispered, and then he turned and ran down the hall.
Poor Bobby did not know what to do. His tank top was so short his whole belly was bare so his dick head could be clearly seen shooting pre-cum all over his stomach. To his left in the hallway, a trustee rode on the back of a naked fifteen-year-old boy, swatting his ass with a riding crop. The other boys were in such a hurry to get to their next classes—only two minutes was allowed—that they barely took notice. Suddenly a big hand grabbed him by the back of the neck.
“Just the little cunt I’m looking for.”
It was Burke, the perfect fear inducement to eliminate an erection. Bobby’s dick wilted.
“We’ve scheduled your first therapy session.”
He said ushering the boy down the hall by a hand at the rear of his neck. The fingers kept working on Bobby’s neck, kneading and massaging. Bobby could hardly keep up with the big guy, and the last thing he wanted was to go to something called a therapy session.
“We weren’t going to begin your therapy until Wednesday night, but the opportunity presented itself, and we at Lakeland always avail ourselves of good fortune. Besides, you’re very fortunate. The Governor has taken an interest in your case.” Then Burke stopped. “Fuck, I gotta piss something fierce.”
He released Bobby and with his same outstretched hand nabbed a fifteen-year-old Asian boy racing down the hall to his next class. The boy was small-boned, and although fifteen, looked more like twelve. He was smaller than Bobby was. He had very black hair and eyes, a smooth golden body, and although thin, he was strong and graceful. Like most Asian boys, he had large wide feet. The teachers at Lakeland loved to promote ethnic diversity to teach the boys about different cultures. So instead of a tee shirt and shorts, Tran, the Thai boy, was made to wear a stupid loincloth of feathers. It really had nothing to do with his culture, but his bare ass and his fifteen-year-old dick and balls peeking through the feathers sure were cute, and it humiliated the kid no end.
Burke grabbed the kid and threw him onto his knees. Then without a word, the headmaster unzipped his pants and pulled out his big fat fuck slab. He grabbed the boy by the chin and pried his mouth open. Then he shoved his dickhead between the Thai boy’s finely shaped full lips. The fat fuck tool was as big as his whole face.
Bobby stood horrified. Was this demonstration for his benefit? Was it another lesson for him, or was this the way Burke always behaved? Burke proceeded to piss in the boy’s mouth. Bobby could see the kid’s cheeks bloat out with the force of the piss. Tran swallowed as fast as he could. He knew to let even a single drop of golden elixir escape his mouth was to incur terrible punishment. Burke’s piss had the most potent flavor of any faculty member in the school, at least that’s what Tran thought. The headmaster played with the small Thai face while he pissed.
“Yes, sir, nothing like a good piss. Don’t be offended, Bobby. This little Asian cunt loves my pee. Don’t you, Siam Slit?”
The piss gulping boy nodded his head affirmatively.
“Yes, sir, the little gook didn’t want to slurp piss at first. He was really adamant about it, so we put him on a piss diet for a week. That fixed things and gave him a real love of faculty urine.” He stroked the back of the piss drinker’s head. “You just enjoy this piss, baby, get it all down.”
When he had finished, Burke wiped his piss drippings on Tran’s face, then zipped up. Then he threw the kid down the corridor in the direction he had been going.
“I’ll be late for class,” the boy whispered, tasting the strong piss flavor in his mouth.
“Well then, you’ll just have to get a scrotum slapping, won’t you?”
Burke laughed the Asian boy’s plight as he grabbed Bobby and ushered him into the therapy room.
Bobby was strapped bare-assed into a chair. Burke was there along with Doc Trotter, the Governor, whom Bobby recognized from seeing him on TV, and two young male interns. While Burke talked, one intern took notes, and the other videotaped.
“Now, Bobby, remember we’re here to help you. You’ve really fucked up your life, and we want to help you straighten it out. You may think our teaching methods harsh, but remember that they’re for your own good. In looking at your records, we have come to believe that you’re a repressed homosexual, Bobby.”
Bobby wanted to protest that he was not gay, that he was a normal, healthy heterosexual, and there had been some mistake, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he was gagged. Gagged I might add with a dirty, sweaty jockstrap that the Governor had been wearing for two weeks, a jockstrap that a dozen boys had jacked off into. Burke grabbed Bobby’s soft face and shoved the stinking prick pouch deep into his mouth.
“It’s okay to be a fag, Bobby. We here at Lakeland are modern thinkers. We aren’t prejudiced. We know you can’t help being a cocksucking pervert.”
Meanwhile, one of the interns was gently stroking Bobby’s nipples. The beautiful twelve-year-old boy was in a state of near hysteria. The events of the last two days just kept piling up until the kid felt like his whole body would explode. Was there to be no relief ever from the torment?
“You see, Bobby, your main psychological problem isn’t that you’re a fucking fairy, a dick-loving homosexual. No, that’s not your problem at all; your problem is that you deny it. You’re in what we call ‘a state of denial.’ You still pretend to like girls, so that’s what we have to cure you of. We have to help you bring out your true faggot nature. Then you’ll be happy. So we’ll begin today. Today’s exercise is simple: you just watch the show. Every time you begin to get an erection, an electrical shock in your dick and balls and asshole will remind you that you don’t like that.”
Bobby tried to protest, but he couldn’t speak with the scummy fuck pouch in his mouth. His saliva had softened the stiff material, and cum slop now dripped down his virgin throat. Bobby gagged.
“Oh, don’t worry about the fuck slop taste of the jock pouch in your mouth. Once you recognize and embrace your true homosexual nature that taste will be like mother’s milk to you. You’ll crave dick snot every hour, and you’ll get it too.”
The interns had connected metal clips to Bobby’s scrotum and the piss lips of his penis. They also shove a small metal rod up his tight asshole with a wire attached.
“Now, Bobby, just relax and watch the show.”
A door opened, and to Bobby’s amazement, a naked ten-year-old girl appeared.
“She looks a little like that your cunt sister, doesn’t she? That’s why we picked her. Have you ever thought about fucking your sister, Bobby? Ever lie in bed at night and play with your dick and dream about your sister’s cunt?”
‘Oh, god, how did they know?’
Bobby had often masturbated thinking about his sister. He had peeked on her changing and showering. He had looked at her young fresh pussy and gotten fuck squirting hard-ons, and now this girl, this twat, this sexy thing was dancing in front of him. The girl, sent from Lakeland’s sister school for wayward girls, had been warned that if the boy didn’t throw a boner, she would be pussy-whipped to within an inch of her life. Bobby could not look at her tits or her cunt. He closed his eyes. Burke slapped the boy’s face.
“Keep your eyes open, clit lips. If you close them, we’ll give you an electric shock that’ll make your balls shrivel.”
The girl was playing with her pussy. Bobby watched.
“He’s starting to thicken…it’s getting hard,” the intern watching Bobby’s prick commented.
“Bobby, you’re denying your real homosexual instincts. You must never get hard over a smelly cunt.
A tremendous jolt of electricity shot through the boy’s body, stiffening him in the chair, straining his whole body against the leather straps. He bit down on the jock in his mouth, squeezing more dick seepage down his throat. The pain was unbearable, but only for an instant. Then Burke was stroking the boy’s sweat-slicked head.
“Bobby, girls are bad…girls give us pain. Boys are good…boys have nice big juicy cocks to suck on. Cock is soothing…cunt is painful.”
This went on for over an hour. The girl rubbed her pussy on Bobby’s face, licked his dick, and every time he responded to her, he was shocked. The shock was not really enough to damage him in any way, but to the terrified boy, it was disastrous. He was reduced to a babbling rubble of boyhood. He sobbed. He shouted that he hated girls. He would do anything to please the men and stop the shocks. He swore he despised cunt, that he would never fuck a girl as long as he lived.
Then a naked seventeen-year-old boy was brought in. Bobby could hardly believe his eyes. It was Carlos, the boy from the toilet line, all golden tan and muscular, in all his naked, sexy glory, his proud uncut cock on display. Carlos’ eyes fairly danced with lust. The handsome Latino teen knelt before Bobby and licked the boy’s tortured scrotum and dick, bathing the genitals in pain-relieving spit. Carlos bent down, and the interns raised Bobby’s legs so Carlos could lick along the boy’s ass crack.
“Nice soothing boy tongue, that’s what you like Bobby. We saw you staring at Carlos in the cunt room. You like him, don’t you? You like his big, fat, uncut dick. You want to be Carlos’ girlfriend, don’t you, Bobby? You want to be his twat, his cumdump. You want to have his babies, don’t you, Bobby? You want to get all pregnant with his sperm. Admit it! You want to feel his big dick in your belly!”
It only took a few good hard sucks of Carlos’ mouth on the boy’s swollen prick before Bobby had the hardest orgasm of his young life. After the pain of the electrical shocks, it felt like heaven. He had never felt anything so all-consuming, so mind-bending. Could it be that he really was a faggot? Could it be that he really did like cock? Was he queer? Was he really falling in love with the hunky Latino cleaning his sperm slick pecker and cum dripping nuts with his mouth? Oh, god if only the good feeling would last and the bad times would go away! He’d gladly be gay if he could get a brief rest from the humiliation and the abuse.
You see, Lakeland has a really high success rate. Burke knows how to reach boys like Bobby and help them. The Governor was beaming. Bobby would surely be a first-class boy cunt in no time at all!
The remaining half-hour of Bobby’s first therapy session was neither as painful nor as pleasurable. Carlos disappeared, and so did the awful cum soaked jockstrap in Bobby’s mouth. The boy’s body still twitched and shook uncontrollably, either from the electric shock or from the pleasure of his first blowjob. The boy’s mind was awash with good and bad visions. His body cluttered with horrible and soothing emotions. They had him going all right! Now, they showed Bobby a series of slides, naked teenage girls with big tits and bare pussies, laying back spreading their cunt lips for him. And Bobby felt just the stirring of the electric shock contacts on his piss lips, scrotum and anus. (The clips had been reapplied after Carlos’s expert suck job.) Bobby saw a close-up of a fourteen-year-old girl’s cunt, and an intern swabbed his tongue with some terrible tasting bitter substance.
Burke whispered in his ear, “You can’t stand cunt, cunt is disgusting. Every time you see a female, I want you to feel very sick to your stomach like you want to puke but can’t.”
Bobby could feel it. He felt it now.
“You are a much better cunt than any girl. You know how to please a man.”
They showed him a photo of a sixteen-year-old cheerleader with her big tits and pink nipples showing. The bad taste in his mouth, an awful smell beneath his nostrils, and the bad tingling in his dick and balls and asshole made Bobby feel horrible.
Then after a series of these, the slides changed. A close up of a man’s penis. The flaccid cut cock was full and huge with a big pink head. Beautiful music played in the room, and the smell turned wonderful like roses or something. Bobby relaxed, the electric shocks to his body stopped. An intern brought a glass of refreshing cola to his lips, and he sipped through the straw looking at the slide of the big pink dick.
“Isn’t that nice, Bobby. Isn’t that wonderful,” Burke soothed.
Another slide of the same dick, taken a few feet away appeared and Bobby could now see the man’s strong, hard body. He was standing next to a locker in a health club or gym.
“Look how beautiful men are, Bobby, how strong and sensual, look at that beautiful cock, Bobby. It would taste so good. It would feel so good in your pussy. Admit you are a homosexual, Bobby. Admit you want a dick in your pussy.”
Bobby’s mouth was so dry and thickly coated with cum seepage that the cold cola was heavenly. It was the first cola he had had in two weeks, and it was his favorite drink. He sipped the cold soft drink and looked at the man in the photo with the big fat pink dick. The prick must have hung seven inches flaccid over very hairy balls. Bobby thought briefly of Carlos’ big brown uncut cock.
“I see a little dick swell,” an intern said.
“It’s okay to get a hard-on in therapy, Bobby. It’s okay to get a big fat boner looking at pictures of a nice big penis. Think about that penis making your pussy feel so good, Bobby.”
Bobby was perplexed. Sometimes it was not okay to get aroused, other times it was okay. Sometimes it was dirty and sinful, other times it was good. What was happening? Fingers gently stroked his young dick again.
“Look at the beautiful dick in the picture, Bobby You want that dick in your little pink boy-pussy, don’t you? You want that big dick stuffed right up your boy-twat. Feel your twat tickle, Bobby. It wants cock.”
Fingers rubbed and stroked his nipples, and he did feel a pleasant sensation around his asshole, his boy-twat.
The slide changed, and Bobby could now see the whole man standing in the health club locker room. Bobby gasped. It was his father—his naked father. The dick he had been staring at was his father’s prick! He stiffened.
“Easy, Bobby, yes, it’s Daddy’s dick, Daddy’s nice dick. Bobby wants his daddy’s dick. Bobby wants to kiss and smooch Daddy’s big fuck tool.”
The drool running from the corner of Bobby’s mouth attested to his confusion.
“That’s the nice big dick that fucked Bobby into this world. Bobby’s daddy fucked Bobby’s mommy, and then Bobby was born.”
Hands rubbed Bobby’s tummy, gently held his scrotum, making him feel so good.
“Bobby’s daddy doesn’t fuck mommy anymore. She’s all dried up. Bobby’s daddy needs sex every day. His big cock needs relief, too bad Bobby isn’t there to take Daddy’s big cock up his boy-pussy. Then Daddy would spend more time with Bobby, he’d be there with Bobby fucking him every morning, every night, and getting blowjobs during lunch. Bobby would be pussy stuffed with Daddy’s dick.”
God help him, Bobby wanted to cum, he wanted to cum looking at naked slides of his own father!
“Right now, Daddy fucks the stock boy at work. He also fucks a boy at the health club, but if Bobby’s pussy were properly trained, then Daddy would love Bobby.”
The twelve-year-old boy started to sob helplessly, and Burke signaled the end of the first therapy session. The poor exhausted kid was too weak to walk, so Burke had two trustees carry him back to the dorm. One of the trustees, an eighteen-year-old bully, named Chad took the opportunity to slide a big fat index finger up the boy’s asshole.
Burke and the Governor sat in the headmaster’s office sipping cognac. A naked fourteen-year-old stood bearing the drinks tray. A five-pound weight hanging from his boy balls to make him move more gracefully. Both men had removed their trousers and now two blond sixteen-year-old twins, knelt between their legs licking their ballbags. The Governor never washed his cock and balls before coming to Lakeland, sometimes for days. He knew the boys loved the rank smell and taste of his dirty prick and nuts. This buff blond was doing a good job too. He knew just how to lift the entire ball bag with his tongue. How to wash each nut individually with spit, how to take both balls in his mouth until he looked like a squirrel with chestnuts. The two sixteen-year-old twins put on incredible sex shows too. The Governor had even had them out to the mansion to perform. He loved to watch the look-alike brothers eating out each other’s assholes. They had been the sons of a very wealthy television evangelist, who loved to fuck boy ass on the side. The price for silence had been sacrificing his two sons to Lakeland. The boys had been innocent as lambs four years ago when they first arrived. It had tormented the preacher terribly that he had had to give up his boys—his babies—until he realized that at Lakeland he could easily fuck his own sons. That made him feel much better about the whole arrangement. The boys were reported lost in an avalanche while on holiday. And now they were sucking cock.
“You know, Jim, I can’t wait to have that little Bobby’s mouth wrapped around my dick. He reminds me so much of my own son Chris.”
Chris was also twelve and had black hair.
“Have you met Chris? The little fucker’s so cute, I can’t stand to be in the house with him anymore. Shit, I cream watching him out at the pool, and every time he talks to me, all I can do is imagine his pouty little lips on my cock.”
Burke grunted, raised his hips and slid his massive dick into the mouth of the blond boy between his legs.
“Can’t we arrange something for your boy here at the school?”
He slid his prick right down into the boy’s throat. The well-trained slut boy never even gagged. With the dick down his throat, he still reached out his tongue to lick the root of the cock and the ball sack.
“Shit no, too dangerous, with the election coming up and my boy getting so much media attention.”
The Governor eased up in the chair a bit so his blond boy could get at his asshole. The boys knew what the Governor liked. The Governor, who was irritable today, flipped the boy over, so the sixteen-year-old boy’s head rested right on the chair seat, and then sat down right on the boy’s face.
“No, I’m afraid I’ll just have to settle for young Bobby. Bobby the Cunt!”
Some joker put laxative in the noontime meal, and half the boys in the school were wracked with pain and shitting all over the place, in the halls, in the classrooms. Some of the kinder teachers thought it was terribly funny, watching a boy crumple to the floor and shit in front of his classmates. Others took a more hardline approach.
“All right, boys, you made that mess, now clean it up with your mouth!”
It was a messy afternoon and just as well for Bobby that he missed it. Sometime in the evening, he awoke on his spring bed. Brian was standing next to him.
“Here,” the dorm captain said. “I brought you a Popsicle.”
The very thirsty boy sucked on the icy treat.
“It tastes funny,” Bobby said after taking three or four big sucks.
“That’s ‘cause it’s frozen horse piss!” Brian guffawed and then all the boys in the dorm who had been watching burst into laughter.
Bobby gagged and held out the Popsicle.
“Eat it, clitlips, eat it all!”
Bobby, sitting naked on his bed, had to eat the frozen pisscicle with all the other boys watching and laughing.
He didn’t see Carlos at the evening shit session or the next morning. He began to worry about the Latino. English class was a disaster for poor Tyler. He had to stand naked in front of the classroom, frigging his big dick as he read the papers of the other boys describing the sex between Jim and Huck. His big black dick was humongous and gained the respect of the other boys. The teacher just belittled and taunted the boy.
“Jack that prick, nigger, but don’t cum. Shit, you got a lake of pre-cum on the floor, better kneel down and lick it up.”
“Please don’t make me lick up that slop, sir!”
“Get your black ass onto that floor and start licking.”
“Don’t—” a fifteen-year-old blond kid said out loud, unable to contain himself.
“What was that? Never mind.
“Tyler. Mr. Clark has willing offered to lick the fuck slop up for you. Mr. Clark, get your pussy up here.”
Danny Clark, a well-built, sturdy fifteen-year-old blond came to the front of the room, scared as hell.
“I didn’t mean—”
“I know what you meant. You got four seconds, girl, to get on all fours and lick up that fuck snot!”
Danny had been at Lakeland a month, so he was an old pro at receiving abuse. He dropped and licked.
“And Tyler’s big nigger dick is all sloppy with pre-cum as well, better lick that clean too, otherwise we’ll just get more on the floor.”
In front of the whole class, Danny licked the huge throbbing black pisser of the African American boy. Sex slop coated Danny’s lips, strings of cum hung from his face. Tyler just would not stop leaking. The more Danny licked, the more Tyler leaked.
“Well, looks like we got a problem here. Old Tyler pussy can’t turn the faucet off now, can he?”
“I’m sorry, sir. My cock just doesn’t stop once it starts until I cum.”
“Don’t you dare cum, Tyler, unless you want to visit The Pit. No, I’ve got a solution. Danny volunteers to stay on his knees with his mouth on your dick all morning. That way you can drain right into his mouth cunt. So you two boys make sure you stay that way until lunch. Go to your next class that way. In fact, to make it on time because travel will be tough, why don’t you start now? I’ll just pin this note to Tyler’s shirt saying that I authorized this little experiment in leakage control. And remember, Tyler, if you shoot, it’s The Pit! Don’t suck, Danny girl, just hold the dick in your mouth and let him drip. And it doesn’t come out of your mouth until lunch. Class, your papers were basically well written, but not perverted enough. For tomorrow, I want you to create a list of fifty totally disgusting derogatory names you can call Tyler here. Racial slurs are not only accepted, but they are also encouraged. Class dismissed.”
Woodworking class was a laugh. Mr. Potter, a short, fat, bald man with a cheerful disposition, was teaching the boys how to carve dildos from wood. He got Bobby started on a ten incher, reminding the boy that once it was finished and sanded and polished and stained, he would have to try it on his own ass. Bobby scoffed. A thing that size would never fit up his ass, Mr. Potter was obviously exaggerating.
Then Bobby had a really gross sick class, Cocksucking 101 for Queers. All the new boys labeled as queer had to learn how to suck cock. They practiced on big rubber dicks, shoving them down their throats until they could do it without choking. This activity brought back mixed emotions from Bobby about his therapy session the night before. He sucked on the big rubber cock, learning how to use his tongue on the bottom side, learning how to wash his tongue over the pisshole.
“Pout those lips out more, a man likes to see a boy’s pussy mouth really suctioning on the prick. Use those cute lips of yours, that’s your mouth-pussy, boy, remember that. And remember this, if you ever use your teeth, except for the most delicate scraping motion to excite the prick, you are dead. Bobby, get your lips working, work the stalk of the dick with your lips while your mouth sucks and your tongue licks.”
Bobby just felt plain stupid sucking on a rubber dick. Next, the teacher introduced rubber dicks that had just come out of assholes so the boys could get used to dealing with the taste and odor. Several boys got sick and puked. Bobby hated the taste and smell but managed to succeed by thinking, strangely enough, about Carlos. He made believe it was Carlos’ big fat cock. Man-oh-man, the boy was becoming a pervert all right. Here he was at twelve thinking about a Latino boy’s cock. But in his need for comfort and solace, it was to be expected. And when a twelve-year-old boy’s thoughts turn to cock and balls, can love be far behind?
That night there was a surprise inspection. Right after bedtime, when all the boys were lying bare-assed on their bedsprings, too exhausted from the cruel day to worry about anything more tonight, four trustees suddenly stormed into the room. These were big burly eighteen-year-old muscle boys, with sadistic streaks as long as their dicks. The boys feared them even more than they did the faculty. They were led by Karl, a blond Germanic boy with a boxer’s face.
“Out of bed, you fucked up twats! Get into inspection position now! Move it, cunts!”
Bobby who was jarred from his sleep watched as the other boys sat on the very foot end of their beds, then spread their legs wide as they brought their heels up onto the bed, so their cocks, balls and assholes were entirely on display. Even Brian, the dorm leader, did this.
Now the trustees with flashlights and magnifying glasses went from young boy to young boy examining their balls and assholes for unplucked pubic hair. Karl rubbed one thick fingertip around each smooth baby asshole looking for the slightest feel of stubble. The boys were required to shove their hips up, so their ball bags were closer to the trustees who looked at them with magnifying glasses.
The boy next to Bobby, a slender fourteen-year-old named Jimmy with light brown hair as soft as corn silk and an angelic innocent face was yanked harshly off the bed onto the floor.
“The fucker’s got a ball hair!” Karl screamed as if he was discovering the enemy behind allied lines. The other three trustees spread Jimmy’s legs wider still until the boy screamed. Then they lifted him off the floor by his slender ankles until he hung upside down. Karl grabbed the kid’s velvety smooth nut sack in one hand.
“Can you see that fucking ball hair, boys?” he screamed to his pals.
They all agreed Jimmy had a single ball hair left in his scrotum.
“Who inspected your twat today, Fucklips?”
Jimmy, who was called Fucklips because he had great cocksucking lips, shook with fear.
“Older boy…redhead…about seventeen…I think his name is Ian,” he squealed as the trustees holding his ankles began to twist his soft young toes painfully.
Karl turned to Brian.
“Dorm cunt, you should keep your boy’s balls and assholes hairless. You’ll be punished for this as well. Now shake your pussy down to dorm ten and bring the red-headed kid up here.”
Glowering with anger, Brian ran for the door. Karl stopped him with a yell.
“I said, ‘shake your pussy.’ Now I want to see that cunt shake!” he screamed.
Brian now ran for the door shaking his muscular ass all over the place. Meanwhile to the horror of the other boys, the trustees were slapping Jimmy from boy to boy. They went on checking assholes and ball sacks, but their focus was on the weeping Jimmy on the floor, so they were lax in their inspections. A few minutes went by before Brian came back, still wiggling his ass like a spastic, dragging an eighteen-year-old thin, tall red-haired kid with him. The redhead was naked, and he had a long swinging rubbery dick with a big red head hanging from a bush of carrot-colored pubic trim. He had low hanging balls that swung in a long fleshy sack, suitable for ball torture. He looked confused and upset.
“I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything,” Ian complained in a rich mature voice.
Even though he was eighteen and a half he was still considered scum around Lakeland because he had miserably failed Barnyard Training. He was a cute kid with a few freckles and a mop of red hair over a handsome face.
“Did you inspect this asswipe’s cunt this morning?”
“I guess so, I don’t remember…” Ian stuttered.
“Look at his balls, do you see any hair?”
Ian carefully examined Jimmy’s sweet soft nut sac.
“Yes, he has a hair,” he answered reluctantly at last. Shit, the kid’s inspection was his responsibility.
“You fucked up big time,” Karl snarled. “And you, Fuckklips, this is your second offense, so you are really in for a good time!”
Jimmy started to cry, so what if he was fourteen, and in front of a bunch of other kids, he cried from terror. Other fourteen-year-old boys were dating girls. Some of them were fucking them, having fun and here he was about to be horribly punished for not plucking out all of his scrotum hair!
You see it was this kind of constant irrational abuse that eventually broke the boys and turned them from typical teens into mindless pussy boys, cunt kids.
“Get down there and remove that ugly ball hair at once…with your teeth, and it better be close to the root. I want no stubble.”
Ian knelt in front of the shaking Jimmy and put his mouth to the fourteen-year-old fuck bag. He had not been told to use his hands, so he did not. He nibbled on the scum sack until he felt the hair with his tongue. Then he carefully put his teeth around the hair, close into the sweaty ball skin, and bit the hair off. The closeness of Ian’s mouth to the young seed sack was exciting in a way, and Ian’s six-inch flaccid prick began to thicken slightly.
“Aw…ain’t that cute. He’s throwing a boner for the cunt. I’ll bet the little twat is his girlfriend. Is that right, Ian? Is Fucklips here your private pussy?”
“No, sir, I don’t even know her name. I’m not getting a hard-on, sir, honest. It’s just the heat makes my dick swell a little sometimes.”
Karl grabbed Ian’s pouty nipples.
“How many girls have you fucked?”
“I fucked six, sir, before I came here.”
“How old were you when you fucked your first girl?”
“Fourteen, sir, I been here for two years.”
“Did you fuck any girls pregnant?”
“That’s what I thought. You are a fucking homo. I got my first girl pregnant at twelve!” he said proudly.
“I’m no fag, sir,” Ian protested. After all, he was eighteen.
“We’ll see. We’re going to give you a fag test. Stand up now.
“Fucklips, on your knees!
“Now, Ian, put that big dick of yours into Fucklips’ mouth.
“Now, Fucklips, just hold it there, don’t suck.
“If that dick gets hard, it means you’re a homo, Ian. If it stays soft, I owe you an apology. If that dick comes out hard, Fucklips gets a fifteen-inch dildo up his pussy. And you get shit room duty for a week.
“Fucklips, you keep that prick soft, even if you have to chew on it to keep it down. If it starts to get hard, Ian, you may beg the boy to chew and bite your prick to get rid of the hard-on.
“Now Fucklips, I want you to hum for us the school song, nice and loud.”
Jimmy on his knees with the big redhead’s prick in his mouth began to hum. The sensation began to affect the cock, which thickened and pushed back on Jimmy’s tongue. Jimmy knew the consequences, so without being told, he began to bite down on the cock. Though Ian was in terrible pain, he dared not show it. He stood stiffly as the fourteen-year-old boy bit his big prick.
“You really are a bunch of perverted fuckers. Your only purpose in life is to be cumdumps for dick. Am I right?” Karl yelled, and all the boys in the dorm shouted: “Yes, sir!”
“What are you?”
Karl looked around.
“Oh…I forgot. Where’s the new cunt, Bobby?”
“Here, sir,” Bobby shouted, still on the edge of the bed with his legs spread wide.
“Doc Trotter wants to see you downstairs in the basement, room 202. Move your pussy. Now! Take the elevator at the end of the hall.”
Twelve-year-old Bobby ran from the dorm shaking his cute little ass as much as he could, and all the trustees laughed. As he got to the elevator bank, he heard a scream of pain from the dorm, but he was not sure from whom. He pushed the button for going down, but before the elevator came a second car arrived, and the door slid open. There, absolutely bare-ass naked, big uncut dick looking sore and raw, was Carlos.
“Carlos…” Bobby stammered.
Bobby stood frozen looking at the boy in the rear of the elevator car. Carlos looked a mess. Bobby could smell the piss and shit from outside the car. Carlos looked wide-eyed and almost hysterical. His face was covered with dried cum, piss, his hair was caked with shit, and streaks of slime and scum covered his muscular body. Cum ran from his asshole down his thick, sturdy legs. His small pubic patch was clogged thick with human waste. His big boy prick was red and raw, the foreskin peeled back behind the head. He weaved and leaned against the elevator wall, not able to focus.
“Carlos, what happened to you,” Bobby whispered, still frozen in the hallway.
“Party…police…twelve of them fucked me…used me as a toilet,” the older boy slurred, his tongue thick, his lips swollen and discolored. “Penthouse party with Burke…”
Then for the first time, he seemed to recognize to whom he was speaking.
“Christ, it’s you… it’s you. Where are you going?”
“To the basement. I don’t know why.”
Carlos shook his head to clear it, cum flew from his lips and cheeks.
“Get your ass in here quick!”
The elevator stank terribly from the fucked out boy, but Bobby did as he asked. Carlos pushed the down button, then after the car started, he pushed stop, halting the elevator.
“We got a little time. They kept fucking me at this party for two days. That’s why you didn’t see me. God, you’re beautiful.”
Bobby blushed at the hunky Latino’s compliment.
“They made me suck you. I’m sorry.”
Bobby blushed more. He dug his bare toes into the carpeting of the elevator.
“That’s okay. I like it…‘cause it was you.”
Carlos dark eyes flashed. He reached out for the gorgeous twelve-year-old boy and then pulled back as if he were afraid he might break him.
“When we get out of here, I want to live with you and make you my girl. I’ll treat you real good and fuck you about five times a day. Would you like that?”
“I don’t know, Carlos…I mean, I’m a boy...I never…I never did stuff with guys before…I mean, I like you a whole lot and all and I been thinking about you all the time…”
“I love you.” Carlos reached out one hand and did touch the silken softness of Bobby’s cheek. “You’re the most beautiful thing I ever saw, more beautiful than my girlfriend before I got put here.”
His strong hand circled Bobby’s neck and pulled him into his strong Latin body. He bent down and kissed Bobby hard on the mouth. At first, Bobby stiffened, going up on his toes, his thin naked chest rubbing Carlos slime-slick hard rippled belly. He tasted the cum and piss on Carlo’s lips, but then another taste, the sweet, warm, slightly salty taste of the boy’s own mouth. Carlos hawked up spit to clean out his mouth and then rammed his tongue into Bobby’s mouth. Bobby melted. He felt fucked by the boy’s tongue. Carlos big thick tongue forced its way down Bobby’s throat sucking the very life from him, then it pulled back and ran itself around Bobby’s gums, over his teeth, dancing with the twelve-year-old boy’s own tongue. Then he began to chew on Bobby’s sensitive lips, gnawing them like an animal. Bobby winced and pulled back.
“I’m sorry, it’s just that you taste so fucking good, and I have to warn you, I fuck rough. I fuck very rough.”
Now he sucked on Bobby’s nose, trying to suck the snot from the boy’s nose. Then he licked the boy’s face all over, long swipes of his thick tongue until the kid glistened as if he was fresh from a bath.
“I gotta fuck you. I just gotta fuck you, girl,” Carlos whined, feeling Bobby’s ass and prodding the tight asshole with one finger.
“Don’t you want me up inside you? Don’t you want me to be your boyfriend?”
Carlos was close to tears, grinding his big dick against Bobby, shoving the first part of his finger into the boy’s ass pucker.
“I do want you, Carlos. I like you very much—maybe I love you—but I’m scared…”
“Nothing to be scared of, honey. You’ll love my big prick inside you, every day, morning, noon and night. You’ll be able to tell time by my dick. I’ll sleep all night with my dick in your ass-pussy. Suck my tits, Bobby, suck them hard, chew on them.”
Bobby slid his face across the sex-slime coating Carlos’ chest. He smelled the stink of the boy’s armpits. He smelled the piss and shit. And he smelled Carlos. It was the smell of lust, the smell of a man, the smell of love. Bobby sank his teeth over one raw nipple and suckled like a baby at his mother’s teat.
“Suck my nips, man, suck them. Oh, you fucking wonderful cunt, your beautiful cunt. I want you for my own. Nobody else will ever touch you when you’re my cunt. I’ll take such good care of you and protect you.”
Carlos shoved his finger way up the boy’s asshole.
“Oh…yes…” Bobby moaned while suckling the Latino boy’s tit, tasting boy sex. “Take care of me. Protect me.”
“And I’ll fuck you every day.”
“Fuck me every day,” Bobby repeated, feeling the thick finger up his asshole.
“We gotta escape from here so we can go away and fuck together forever, you beautiful twelve-year-old cunt. I got a plan. I’ll take you with me.”
In and out of the asshole the finger rammed, bringing inner ass skin with it. Carlos leaned down and bit Bobby’s ears. Bobby, shooting squirts of pre-cum onto Carlo’s legs, chewed Latino nipple as his hard boy dick hard leaked, mixing with the slime of a dozen men.
“Lick my body clean, lick the fuck sauce from my body, make me clean for you.”
Bobby began to lick Carlos hard, smooth scum coated body. The tastes were new to him but the flavors were obliterated by his boy lust. He’d never felt like this with anyone, certainly not his parents who ignored him, not his friends who were dorks, not even Sarah Sanderson who once let him feel her cunt. He licked fuck slime, shit, and piss from Carlos’ body. He licked down to the boy’s stinking, fat, thick, scum-coated cock.
Carlos had two fingers almost all the way up the boy’s rectum now. Carlos was crying. Why was he crying? Bobby did not know why the Latino boy whined and bawled until tears joined cum on his face.
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”
“I need to fuck you so bad, but I can’t. I’m sorry, Bobby, I can’t. I’m all fucked out. Those cops upstairs, they made me jack off eight times before they fucked me. Oh, god, I want to fuck you, and we only have a few more minutes. A guard will be checking the hallway in about five minutes. Promise me that your pussy belongs to me, Bobby, promise me.”
“I do…it does…I promise.”
Bobby licked at the fat flaccid boy dick that swung heavy and swollen with overuse.
“Say it. Say the words.”
“Carlos, my pussy belongs to you.”
Bobby kissed the dick.
“Oh, god, Bobby, I love you. We need to seal our relationship somehow. Let me try to shove my soft dick up your ass, at least a little way. Lift your leg. Can you feel it, can you feel anything, baby?”
“I can, Carlos. I can feel your dick in my ass…in my pussy.”
“When we’re together, and I get hard its three times as big, you’ll fucking love it. Now quick, let me suck your dick.”
Carlos fell to his knees and gobbled the boy’s fuck stick. It didn’t take but a few seconds and the boy shot his sweet fuck seed into the Latino’s mouth. Bobby had never felt an orgasm like that. It was as if Carlos wanted to suck his boy prick inside out.
“Oh, fuck…oh, fuck…oh, fuck…” Bobby screamed.
Carlos did not swallow the boy fuck nectar. He rose and kissed Bobby on the mouth again, pouring the fresh hot cum from his own mouth into Bobby’s mouth and then sucking it back again mixed with boy spit. They kissed and sloshed fuck sauce back and forth for a half a minute before Carlos pulled back and hit the elevator button.
“That’s a sacred ritual. You’re my cunt now. Don’t ever forget it. I love you!”
“I love you too,” Bobby said. He did too. Just like that. And out of the disgusting slime of tawdry sex, hope and love can be born.
“We’ll get out of here, wait and see. I’m making plans, and I ain’t going without you. Just hang on, baby. Dream of my cock fucking you!”
Carlos took Bobby down to the basement and pushed him out. Bobby did not want to let go of the muscle boy.
“Be careful and play it cool, remember they can fuck with you, but only I can fuck you with love.”
The elevator door slid shut.
Bobby was a sight, as he stood bare-assed before Dr. Trotter in the faculty member’s basement apartment. The boy’s lanky body was covered with a sheen of fuck sweat mixed with sex slime from Carlos’ body. The kid’s nipples were red and puffed from being yanked on and bitten. His perfect boy cocksucker lips were swollen and bruised from Carlos manic kissing. Bobby’s nose was running, and snot ran down onto his lips. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were glazed over from his first lover’s tryst. Carlos had sucked his pink boy dick so hard that now it hung heavy and swollen, thick with after fuck fullness.
“Jesus Christ, what happened to you?” Dr. Trotter, who was dressed in a silk dressing gown and sported his fifth vodka martini in one hand, slurred.
Trotter was not a bad looking young man, early thirties, average looks, but he was a terrible alcoholic, a habit he blamed on losing his license to practice medicine. The Governor had given Trotter this job when he learned of the doctor’s unique talents with boys. You see, the eminent Dr. Trotter has been kicked out of medical practice for giving high school boys very unusual physical examinations, including extensive rectal probes, demands for in-office sperm samples, urine, and shit samples, and terrible humiliation. Over two hundred boys endured cunt spreaders up their assholes, having to squat and shit for the doc, even having their pubic and asshole hair shaved for an exam. Then the poor doctor’s life came crashing down around him. The most surprising thing about Trotter’s games was that it took five years and over two hundred boys before a humiliated boy dared to complain and the Doc was uncovered as a child molester. Now he stood before Bobby, with a drink in hand, in his silk dressing gown, growing erection pushing out the soft cranberry material. He laughed.
“Were those fucking trustees playing around with you, Bobby? They made a mess of you. Oh, well, all work, and no play makes Bobby a dull fuck!”
“Come in, we’d better get you cleaned up, so it’s off to the shower with you, lad.” Trotter led Bobby to his bathroom. “You need a good scrubbing from top to bottom.”
Before ushering Bobby into the large shower stall, however, Trotter did an unusual thing. He handcuffed the boy’s hands behind his back. Bobby got scared. Trotter laughed.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you clean. I’ll help.”
Trotter slipped off his dressing gown, and Bobby saw the teacher’s nine-inch stiff penis, throbbing and angry looking. Bobby gulped. Trotter stepped into the shower and adjusted the water spray. Next, he lathered the boy’s silky smooth body with soap. Bobby hated to admit it, but it felt kind of good. He closed his eyes and pretended it was Carlos washing him, in their apartment, after they escaped.
“Such beautiful soft balls you have Bobby, and such a gorgeous little pussy.”
Trotter’s fingers followed his words, and using soap to help, he managed to get three fingers up the boy’s tight asshole. Bobby moaned and winced each time the fingers twisted around up his boy-cunt.
“Got to get you clean, boy…got to wash you out.”
Trotter jammed more finger up boy twat, and Bobbie screamed, “Ow…oh, fuck…that hurts!”
Trotter pulled back, water running over his face and body, pouring off his swollen dickhead.
“Robert, you little cunt, I will not allow a boy of your age to use vulgar language. You must be punished. Open your mouth!”
Before Bobby could protest, Trotter grabbed his smooth young face and forced his mouth open, shoving the bar of soap into the boy’s mouth. The taste was hideous. Bobby gagged. But Trotter would not let the boy spit the soap out.
“Keep that there, you young cunt, until you learn proper manners.”
He grabbed another bar of soap.
“And this bar goes up the other end to clean you out.”
He pushed and shoved until the second bar of soap slid up past Bobby’s ass lips into the pink virgin asshole. Bobby felt clogged, stuffed, and in pain.
“Those morning showers just don’t clean you boys properly. I tell Burke a boy your age secretes fuck hormones all day, makes a boy stink, you need three or four showers a day.”
Trotter then picked up a wire scrub brush. He coated it with soap and then holding the boy against the shower wall. He proceeded to scrub the boy’s cock and balls roughly.
“Aren’t showers fun, Bobby?”
Bobby burbled bubbles. Thick soap slime was running down his gullet into his tummy. He felt nauseous. The doctor scrubbed the boy’s nut sack until Bobby was sure it would be ripped off. Then he started in on the boy’s nipples, which were already very sore.
“Nice big pisser you’ve got here, Bobby. I’m amazed every time I see it, quite a schlong for a twelve-year-old. You might end up as big as me!”
Now Trotter rubbed the scrub brush full of soap across Bobby’s pisshole. The little piss lips burned, and then soap got up Bobby’s urethra, and the irritating burning turned to white-hot fire. Bobby screamed into the soap as biting pain shot up into his young dick, something as simple as soap up the prick can cause untold agony.
“Oh, you big baby you.”
Trotter laughed as he shoved more soap up the boy’s dick hole. Then he pushed the boy down to the bottom of the shower stall, and a new kind of agony overcame the boy as the doctor scrubbed the bottom of the boy’s feet with the scrub brush. Sensations that began as a tickle but ended as maddening irritation, as the soles of Bobby’s tender feet were scrubbed. Bobby threw his head, and the bar of soap flew from his mouth. He tried to scream, but soap foam shot from between his lips. His asshole burned, his dick burned, his nipples burned. His stomach felt like he had to puke, and now his feet were being rubbed until he could not stand it. Then the water was turned off, and he lay in the bottom of the shower stall, a clean but beaten heap. He moaned, and soapsuds dribbled from his mouth. Bobby was so exhausted, he did not even protest when Trotter shoved the enema hose up his asshole. He lay there on his back, watching his tummy blow up as if he was pregnant. Trotter thought it was really cute.
“Nothing in my mind is quite as cute as a pregnant boy. We’re doing some experiments here at the school you know in trying to get boys pregnant. Oh yes, we’re the leading institute in the world experimenting with this. No one else seems to think it important, but we do. Imagine if one of those big football players at your school could get you, pregnant Bobby, wouldn’t that be wonderful, the gift of life. Is there a particular boy, Bobby, that you know who you would love to fuck you until you were pregnant?”
Of course, Bobby, in his confused state, immediately thought of Carlos. A few days before, he would not ever have even conceived of such a stupid thing, now he was actually believing the doctor and actually thinking of a boy to make him pregnant. His logic told him the doctor was just fucking with his mind, but he could not get the image out of it, of him all belly bloated, a baby kicking inside, and Carlos, the proud father.
Trotter yanked the enema tube out of the boy, and shit water squirted all over the shower stall. Then the doctor washed the boy off again. The shower was thankfully over. Trotter donned his dressing gown, but his big red dick stuck out like a flagpole. Bobby was so weak that the doctor had to help him walk into the dining room.
“You look all worn out Robbie…Bobby. I think you need a decent meal. The shit they feed you in the cafeteria is so bad. Here you sit down at the table, and I’ll whip up a special treat for you.”
Trotter disappeared, and Bobby rested his face on the smooth, cool wood of the table. He must have dozed off because the next thing he remembered, Trotter had set a plate in front of him. Bobby looked at it, looked again and then put his hand to his mouth to choke back the vomit. Trotter must be stark raving mad, a lunatic, sadistic monster. Bobby managed to control his urge to retch. He looked up at the smiling man.
“This is a specialty of mine. Modestly, I might add, my own recipe. Boiled dog penis served with the testicles on a bed of piss soaked rice. Oh, Bobby, I just know you’re going to love it. You know out west, bull’s balls are a costly commodity, served in some of the finest restaurants. Well, if bull balls, why not Great Dane dick?” The mad doctor laughed wildly. “I hope it’s tender enough. I lightly boil it only to retain the color and look of the dog cock. I hope you like it.”
Bobby stared blankly down at the grotesque sight—cock and balls lying on a plate.
“And to drink, the finest vintage…”
Trotter eased his now half-limp dick over the lip of a crystal wine goblet and gently allowed a trickle of thick yellow piss to fill the glass.
“I ate tons of asparagus today just to enhance the flavor of the piss for you.”
Bobby looked around the room, anywhere but at the horrible meal, his breathing was labored, and he feared he might black out. This could not be real. This had to be a Lakeland dream. He was on his wire bed sleeping. That was it. Oh, how he longed for the discomfort of that bed now. He would surely wake up, and it would be a bad dream. What about Carlos then, was that a dream too? No that had to be real. It was all he had to hang on to.
“Don’t be shy, Bobby. I know you’re dying to dig in.”
“I don’t think I can, sir,” he said as kindly as he could.
“Ha, a fussy eater. I knew that. Too much junk food. Very well, I’ll help you. Let me just slice off a little of the meat up here near the dickhead. That’s the tenderest part. You eat steak, Bobby, don’t you? Well, that’s cow ass. So this isn’t so different. Now open wide.”
Trotter shoved a forkful of succulent meat into Bobby’s mouth. What with all the soap in his tummy, Bobby could not take it anymore. His young boyish chest heaved, and he puked all over the plate, all over the food! Three big heaves of vomit. Bobby’s beautiful swollen lips trembled as he looked up at the teacher.
“Oh…god, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” he muttered over and over like some Buddhist chant.
“Oh, well, can’t be helped. Don’t fret. Of course, now, you’ll just have to eat it that way!”
Bobby’s cute little pug nose wrinkled. Tears welled up in his tired red eyes, and then overflowed to roll down his smooth pink cheeks. His lips were almost blue with fear.
“I CAN’T! Oh…god, sir…I CAN’T!”
Well, of course, Bobby could, and did. It was a simple matter to connect the wires from beneath the table to his piss lips. His hands were once again handcuffed behind him, and Dr. Trotter patiently fed him the meal. Bobby cleaned his plate like a good boy with only three penis shocks to encourage him. But, of course, Trotter was not finished. He appeared from the kitchen with dessert.
“The house specialty for dessert, fresh Trotter turd covered with whipped cream.”
Bobby wailed. He threw his head. He sobbed. He cried for his mommy and daddy. He begged. He spit up again. He blubbered He barfed. He banged his head against the table, trying to knock himself out but to no avail. He was a prisoner in a boy’s reform school, and he had to pay for his transgressions against society. That night for the first time, but certainly not the last, twelve-year-old Bobby, who felt one hundred and twelve, ate shit! Trotter fed him, rubbing his big dripping dick as the boy’s lips turned brown from the turd. It took almost an hour, but Trotter was patient. By the time Bobby had finished, the doctor’s fucking hard-on could not stand it anymore. He wiped Bobby’s mouth with a Handi Wipe, then released the dazed and sickened boy and threw him onto the floor. There he straddled the boy’s lower legs and pried open the perfect twelve-year-old ass cheeks.
There it was, the prize—virgin boy pussy—and Trotter had won the faculty lottery. Trotter eased his prickhead, all wet from pre-cum leakage, into the virgin rosebud. He shoved only the dickhead in first. Bobby writhed beneath him mumbling incoherently, not resisting. He was actually way beyond that just twitching like a beached fish. Trotter shoved two, then three inches into the boy ass. Bobby raised his hips slightly. The ass became even more beautiful. Trotter fucked in earnest now, all nine inches, balls deep in the tight boy-cunt. Bobby was fucked on the floor, on his tummy. Eventually, when Trotter desired a deeper, more exciting fuck, he twisted the boy over onto his back and lifted the boy’s smooth young legs onto his shoulders.
Bobby looked up at the man fucking his ass, but he didn’t see him. After the initial blinding pain, which was no worse really than the shocks to his dick or other pain Bobby had suffered, no worse than the humiliation of eating shit and dog dick, no worse than the other atrocities heaped upon him, just more pain. After the initial shock of pain, the fucking had changed. The harder Trotter fucked, trying to hurt the boy, the more Bobby gave in to it.
You see, although his eyes were open, he was not seeing Trotter. He was seeing Carlos. It was Carlos’ big fat uncut prick plowing his pussy. It was his boyfriend fucking him, not Trotter. Bobby was giving up pain for his boyfriend, his lover, his husband to be. Bobby was offering his pussy, his cunt to his man’s cock! It was a beautiful pain, a bonding pain, an incredible pain.
Trotter looked down in amazement. The little slut was smiling, he was getting nine inches of thick dick up his virgin twat, and he was fucking smiling! Trotter spit in Bobby’s face, and still, the boy smiled. He rammed with short hard thrusts until his own balls ached, and yet, the boy smiled. He pulled out eight inches and then slammed back in stretching the asshole to unimagined proportions, and still, the fucking cunt smiled! Trotter was furious. He pulled his dick from Bobby and could not control himself. He shot his load all over the boy’s chest and face, and all over himself.
“Oh…fuck…oh…fuck…no,” he shouted, shooting rope after rope of white fuck slime across the smiling boy’s face. “Fuck no! It’s supposed to hurt. It’s supposed to fucking kill you. You should be crying!” the drunken doctor railed, and Bobby saw only Carlos and tasted only Carlos thick white Latino cum.
THE FUCKING KID WAS WINNING. IT WASN’T POSSIBLE. THE FUCKING KID WAS WINNING!
Doctor Trotter was furious. He paced back and forth in front of Burke’s desk, waving his hands in the air. He was so angry he didn’t even have the shakes from not drinking this morning.
“The fucking twat smiled. Here I am, shoving my nine-incher into the virgin pussy, and the fucking cunt is smiling. It was the most disappointing thing that ever happened to me.”
Burke couldn’t help but laugh. After all, there were hundreds of boys to pick and choose from to please the most jaded or perverted whim and here Trotter had the trots, as the faculty at the school called his fits, over a twelve-year-old twat enjoying his first dick stuffing. Burke reached down and twisted his hand in the hair of the nine-year-old boy licking his balls beneath his desk. The boy who had been like Bobby a few months earlier, but was now well trained, removed his tongue from the sweaty scrotum and immediately began to lick beneath the foreskin of the thick hung dick. Fuck, Burke loved his job. It was paradise.
Trotter was still harping on the new kid.
“I want that boy sent to the training room today. I want him broken before the week is out. Do I make myself clear?”
“Don’t you think the training room is a bit drastic for a boy so new? It’s only one step away from The Pit. We only use it in cases of extreme resistance.”
His hand guided the nine-year-old boys’ tongue deeper into the fat foreskin hanging over the tip of his big dick. Burke often served the boys treats this way, shoving bits of candy or food up beneath his long foreskin and letting the kids eat it out of the dick flesh.
“I don’t give a fuck if they kill him. I want that little cunt broken!”
Bobby was grabbed on his way to English class. The morning had gone well so far. He slept deeply, dreaming of Carlos, only waking twice during the night. Once when his raped asshole had pained him so much that it woke him from his sleep, and a second time when dreaming about Carlos, he had gotten an erection, and the dorm monitor had slapped him awake. The boys were watched for hard-ons all night, so as not to allow the boys any sexual pleasure.
Bobby had seen Carlos, as he entered the cunt room for his morning shit. His heart leaped up as Carlos discreetly placed himself behind the adorable twelve-year-old boy in line. The seventeen-year-old Latino, recovered from his fuck orgy, looked much better today. He smiled at Bobby, and his dark, flashing eyes lit up the room. Bobby blushed and curled his boy toes on the tiled floor. His dick gave a tiny twitch that only Carlos saw as he slipped himself behind Bobby, brushing the hot boy ass in the process.
There was an embarrassing foul-up in line. As the cute muscular sixteen-year-old boy in front of Bobby squatted to take his daily dump, Bobby realized he had forgotten his moist towelettes to clean the boy’s ass. The bell rang, and the kid in front of him shoved his ass out at Bobby waiting to be wiped. Bobby just stupidly stood there.
“Problem, clitlips?” a trustee bellowed. The boys in line craned their necks to see the action.
“I...eh…I…forgot my towelettes,” Bobby stammered, looking at the hunky muscular ass spread in front of him with bits of shit clumped at the poop hole.
The trustee laughed.
“No problem. No need to slow down the process, just lick the asshole clean.”
The boy in front of Bobby groaned with pleasure and ground his ass out in Bobby’s face, bringing a laugh from all the boys present.
“Start licking, toilet mouth,” the trustee shouted.
Bobby squatted slightly to bring his cute puckered twelve-year-old lips nearer the stinking shitty asshole.
“He can use some of mine,” a voice behind him said.
Carlos handed Bobby some moist towelettes. Bobby grabbed the tissues gratefully and cleaned the ass in front of him before the trustee could complain.
“Aw…ain’t that cute. His boyfriend helped him out. What a darling couple,” the trustee said loud enough for all to hear.
Everyone enjoyed a good laugh. The bell rang, and Bobby threw the towelettes into the shit trench and then squatted to take his shit.
“Wait a minute,” the trustee shouted.
The room became quiet as shitters in the other lines also paid attention.
“We don’t want you to run short of towelettes. So, Carlos, why don’t you just climb down into the shit pit and pick up those towelettes your cunt threw down there.”
Bobby groaned in anguish as he saw a red-faced Carlos climb down into the white-tiled trench, ankle-deep in boy shit, to pick up the used towelettes.
“Carlos, why don’t you lie down in the trench and look up and watch your cute boyfriend take a shit. You should enjoy that!”
The muscular Latino bristled, fighting back his anger as he lay down on his back in the stinking piles of boy turds, looking up at the spread legs of all the boys straddling the trench. His shoulders were so broad he could hardly lie straight, and he looked all scrunched. Bobby looked down at his friend, his boyfriend, his savior. Carlos looked up at Bobby, squatting over his face.
“Good, now you got a good view. You see what helping out another boy does. It gets you the best seats in the house. Okay, clitlips…shit right on his face. If any of your turds miss, you’ll join him.”
Bobby cried as he shit. He looked down past his balls at the face of the seventeen-year-old Latino beneath him as shit splattered over his nose and mouth, shit and some blood from the previous night’s fuck session with Trotter.
“Fuck, you’re bleeding, you’ve been fucked. Who fucked you, you little cunt, you been letting guys fuck your pussy?” Carlos hissed up at him, shit getting in his mouth. “Tell me who fucked you, why’d you let him? I thought you were my girl.”
“I am, Carlos, I am. Trotter fucked my virgin ass last night. I couldn’t do anything about it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Carlos.” More blood and shit splattered the older boys face. “I’m sorry about everything, Carlos. I’m sorry for the shit.”
“You dumb cunt, I don’t mind the shit because it comes from you. Nothing from you disgusts me because I love you, but I’m gonna kill Trotter. I swear I’ll kill him for hurting you.”
“It didn’t hurt too terribly bad, Carlos. I just made believe it was you fucking me.”
Suddenly Bobby felt a towelette wiping his asshole.
“If you two lovebirds are through, the bell rang ten seconds ago.”
The trustee could hear the boys talking but not getting the words that came over.
“What is this, a morning tea conversation? Move along, clitlips.
“Carlos, you just stay there. You’re so helpful. Let’s see how you like having all the rest of the boys shit on you. And open your mouth—wide.”
Bobby moved on, feeling strangely good over Carlos devotion and courage. He must be the bravest and most radical boy in the whole school, and he loved Bobby. He said it over and over that he loved Bobby.
The twelve-year-old boy was yanked by a trustee and escorted down to the training room. This was a large basement room that resembled a gym locker room and smelled the same way. It was too warm, and the six trustees in the room were already sweating up a storm, just from sitting around. They were all naked. Bobby looked at the six sweat-slick eighteen-year-old boys in trepidation.
“Welcome to the training room. You’ve been invited here for some special training. Don’t be shy. You can see we all dress casually here,” one of the boys said, playing with his fat prick and a big bag of sweaty balls, “so why don’t you strip down and join us.”
A six-foot-three, muscular Germanic blonde strode over to Bobby, dick and balls swinging as he walked, and took the boy’s face in his hands.
“None of the school ruled apply here. We can do anything we want to you.”
He brought his face down and kissed Bobby hard on the mouth. Then he shoved three fingers between the boy’s lips and pried his mouth open.
“You are a fucking doll, you remind me of my kid sister.” The blond youth sneered, and then he hawked gob after gob of spit into Bobby’s mouth. “Just testing your swallowing reflexes. You’ll be swallowing lots of good stuff today.” He threw Bobby back against a wall. “Strip”
Bobby kicked off his high tops and peeled his tank top and shorts off his slender, pale twelve-year-old body. Two of the trustees gave wolf whistles.
“Look at the cunt on that girl, ” a mean-looking dark-haired boy with a sensitive movie star face and a ten-inch throbbing prick with egg-sized balls remarked, scratching one smooth pec.
“Don’t hurt me, guys. I’m new here, and I’m trying to do everything right. I wanna make friends,” Bobby whined, looking at the erections on all six trustees.
“We wanna be friends too, so why don’t you just crawl over to each of us and greet us good morning!” The dark-haired boy whose name was Cal said in a deep throaty voice.
The trustees sat on folding chairs in a circle with Bobby in the middle on his hands and knees. The eighteen-year-old boys spread their legs wide and curled their big toes, almost touching feet, hands-on muscular thighs, cocks and balls hanging over the edge of the chair seat, smiles on their cocky faces.
“Now, Bobby, you just crawl to each one of us and show your respect by kissing our nut sacks.”
Poor Bobby’s mind was freaking out. Nothing but sex twenty-four hours a day…sex…sex…sex. Everything at Lakeland Academy was permeated with wet sticky dripping sexual innuendo if not overt sexual abuse.
He crawled between Cal’s sweat dripping thighs and brought his smooth young face with quivering boy lips up to the ball bag. He planted a light kiss on the scrotal flesh.
“Fuck no, girl. You call that a kiss? Kiss that fuck bag like it was your boyfriend’s lips. French and lick that fuck flesh. Bobby smelled the strong boy sex smell of the scrotum. He licked the sweat from the balls, feeling them move about in the fleshy sack. God, Bobby could not believe it. He was a ball licker. He was a shit-eating, ass-fucked, ball-licking, twelve-year-old child, and that fact would be with him for the rest of his life.
“This cunt is almost worthless as a ball licker,” Cal remarked, his big prick dripping pre-cum onto Bobby’s forehead.
“A couple of days with us, and he’ll be a pro at it,” the blond boy remarked as he laughed.
Bobby trying to do a good job and avoid punishment licked down under Cal’s ball bag, lifting the sweaty nuts on his tongue.
“That’s a little better. Now do the other guys.”
Bobby crawled from trustee to trustee licking boy scrotum. By the time he finished, his own naked little body was covered with sweat and streaks of dripped pre-cum from the dicks of the older boys. Next, to Bobby’s utter humiliation, he had to crawl from lad to lad licking the boy’s feet and sucking on their toes. When he did not suck with enough enthusiasm, Cal kicked the twelve-year-old boy in his nut sack, sending Bobby into contractions of blinding pain. Then Bobby had to lick out the sweaty armpits of each boy. The trustee’s dicks were running like leaky faucets by now, and Cal instructed Bobby to crawl around the cement floor licking the dick drippings off the floor. Bobby missed a few spots and got his first zap with the electric cattle prod. They called it their cunt trainer. Each of the boys had one hanging on his chair. Now, all six boys knelt on their chairs with their backs facing Bobby. Then the trustees reached back and spread their large muscular ass cheeks.
“Now, Bobby, say hello to our assholes with your tongue. Do an outstanding job.”
Bobby licked Cal’s sweaty ass crack, then plunged his tongue into the asshole pucker itself. All of these boys had had their assholes stretched considerably when they had been students at Lakeland before they became trustees, so the holes knew how to really open and gobble up boy’s face. Cal released his ass cheeks, and they closed around Bobby’s face as the boy slurped asshole. When he did not get his tongue deep enough to please Cal, the boy got a light zap on the ass. For ten minutes, Bobby sucked on Cal’s asshole until his poor lips and tongue were bruised and swollen, and then he still had to ass suck the five remaining boys. The trustees got a little rougher with the boy and a little more liberal with the prod.
“Come on, ass sucker. You can do better than that.”
After the boys felt well acquainted with the new cunt, they ushered him into the toilet. They walked. He crawled, of course. Bobby could hardly stand the stench. The old porcelain toilet bowl had not been cleaned for months—or years. The yellow piss stains were caked on the outside as well as the inside and here and there dried shit stains covered the once white bowl with layers of brown, black and dark yellow crap. It was the most disgusting thing he had ever seen.
“Okay, Bobby, first things first, see this big Italian sausage? Well, that’s your lunch, but first, we got to slow cook it, so why don’t you be a good buddy and shove it up your asshole for us.”
Bobby, sitting on the filthy piss-coated tile floor, looked up at the six studs standing over him. They stood there beating their meat, letting the dick drippings fall onto Bobby sitting on the grungy floor. Bobby opened his mouth to beg, but his lips and tongue were dry and swollen from licking the boy’s bodies, and he could not make a sound. Well, he did kind of whimper like a puppy as Cal threw a huge Italian sausage onto the floor. Bobby hesitated, and two boys went to fetch their prods. Bobby whelped and threw himself on his back, spreading his thin but sturdy boyish legs, revealing his hairless pink balls and his tender slightly swollen asshole. He picked up the sausage. Just as one of the trustees leaned down with the prod, the frightened boy jammed the end of the sausage up his shithole. His boy-pussy, although stretched by Trotters dick, was still tight and very sore. He screamed as he fucked the sausage into his ass, and the eighteen-year-old trustees laughed and slapped each other on the back calling the boy cunt and pussy and twat hole.
“All the way, clit lips, so it can cook properly.”
“It won’t go all the way in. It’s too big,” burbled Bobby, his voice thick and hoarse.
“Aw shit, I bet it will. Just push harder. Want some help with the cattle prod?” Cal asked, smiling.
Bobby screamed and rammed the rest of the sausage up his boy twat. He felt stuffed, stretched, ruptured inside. His stomach ached, and he was sure he could see the outline of the sausage in his slender tummy. Of course, it was just his imagination since the sausage was buried deep in his intestine.
“Good, now while that cooks, why don’t you be a good little buddy and clean this stinking filthy bathroom for us. You see we turned off the water in the toilet bowl months ago and the shit and piss just kind of goes down wherever it wants to. So be a good boy and clean this place spotless for us. We’ll be back to inspect it in a couple of hours.”
“Where do I get a brush or soap and water from,” Bobby asked, already knowing the answer but dreading hearing it.
“You don’t, pussyboy. You clean it with your fucking tongue. And I mean it I want it spotless. Just so you don’t cheat and use your hands to scrub the piss and shit up, let’s handcuff your arms behind your back, huh?”
The other boys commented on Cal’s resourcefulness. Bobby, whose mouth was so dry he could hardly speak, croaked that he could not possibly clean the toilet without some water. He looked up as all six muscular dudes standing around him unleashed torrents of piss. Six big fat pissing dicks from six eighteen-year-old studs were poising on the boy.
“Open your mouth, Bobby, your tongue and lips need lubrication.”
Cal pissed a strong spray stinking yellow piss right into the boy’s mouth. Bobby fell back onto the floor from the force of the six pissing trustees. Then he was left alone in the foul bathroom with only his tongue to clean up the months of accumulated urine and crap!
This was only the start of Bobby’s specialized training.
Young Robert had fucked up. The twelve-year-old slender, supple boy found himself bare-assed naked bend over a sawhorse with his delicate wrists tied tightly to his shapely boy ankles, his prime piece of young boy ass awaiting the smash of the Ping-Pong paddles.
You see, when the trustees had returned to the bathroom to inspect Bobby’s cleaning, they were aghast to find inside the toilet bowl a single brown shit splash beneath the rim. Bobby lay on the floor, sweat glistening on his young barely developed chest, breathing heavily, eyes closed, his beautiful boy lips chapped and swollen and his tongue raw from licking the piss and shit stains from the toilet bowl and floor. Well, the ungrateful little cunt had missed a single spot. So, of course, he must be punished. If you let a twelve-year-old whore slut like Bobby get away with a little something, next thing you know he is taking all kinds of advantage of you. So Bobby was dragged from the bathroom and flung over the sawhorse until his perfectly shaped little boy buns were the highest part of his body. The thick eight-inch Italian sausage protruded nastily from the stretched asshole, so Cal yanked it roughly out. Bobby let out an ‘oof’ of breath as the huge ass plug was removed. Cal was not being kind. Oh, no, the sausage would get in the way of Bobby’s punishment. He grabbed the boy’s thick black hair and jerked his face up. Bobby’s eyes were wild and unfocused. Cal shoved the ass-slimed sausage into the boy’s mouth.
“Hold that in there. You bite that, and you are dead. Just hold it; it’s not fully cooked yet,” Cal explained.
Then, with the boy’s body stretched and tied, the six eighteen-year-old trustees, big fat dicks erect and dripping from the sheer fun of their games, proceeded to beat Bobby’s young ass until it was dark red and swollen twice its size. Their big fuck tools sprayed the room with pre-fuck as they twisted their whole bodies in the effort of slamming the paddle as hard as they could into fresh boy ass. They took turns seeing who could hit the boy the hardest, calling each other pussy and faggot if the swat did not ring loud enough in the locker room. Bobby’s muffled cries of protest changed from grunts to sobs, to screams, to high-pitched baby boy wails. And still, the ass smashing continued. The beautiful hairless ass cheeks turned pink, then red, then dark red, then a raw red, then red with blue splotches, then red with black splotches. Bobby sobbed incoherently, and his labored wheezes and whines only served to encourage the older teens more. They whooped like red Indians, jumping around so their big dicks bounced and their ball bags swung. They pulled back as if preparing to slam a fastball out of the park, and then they let the boy ass have it with all their muscular strength. Bobby thought he would die. Then at some point, he stopped thinking, only feeling white-hot searing pain each time the paddle struck.
After the paddling, they shoved the sausage back up the boy’s rectum, causing fresh screams of agony as they roughly handled the blistered ass cheeks. Bobby’s eyes fluttered, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish dying out of the water. Cal kicked him in the ribs with his big bare toes to revive him. When that did not do much good, he jammed a bare big toe up the boy’s asshole, pushing on the sausage. Bobby grunted like a pig.
“Hey, piggy boy, hey, pig,” they began to chant at him.
The big blond German stud took a glass of water and dribbled some of it over his prick and balls.
“You want some water, pig? Crawl over here.”
Bobby crawled over and gratefully licked the water from the teenage dick and nuts, the deliciously cool water mixed with the boys pre-fuck but Bobby didn’t care. It tasted wonderful. When the boy had revived somewhat, Cal decided that he needed some exercise.
They tied the kid’s wrists to his ankles again, but this time with him squatting. Now they forced him to duck walk around the room. He had to do it with his legs spread so they could see his twelve-year-old cock and balls at all times. For twenty minutes, they kept him duck walking until his legs were in such agony that he could not move and even getting zapped on the nuts by the cattle prod would not move him. Bobby was making pig noises continually now, grunts and wheezes, snorts and groans, and they took to calling him pig cunt. Cal threw Bobby onto his back and untied his hands and feet. Bobby flopped down like a rag doll. Then Cal threw the boy’s legs up and back over his own thin boned shoulders, so his dick and balls were hanging over his own face.
“Piss, pigcunt, piss.”
Bobby pissed all over his own face. The trustees whooped again and high fived each other, some of them were regularly jacking on their big boy fuckers, swollen with lust and red with the need to shoot a load. Bobby was so thirsty and his bruised mouth so dry that he opened his own mouth to drink his own piss, and it tasted refreshing to him.
“You like drinking your own piss?” Cal shouted at the battered boy. “Good, now you’re going to suck your own cock.”
They bent the boy’s body almost in double, not stopping for his protests that he could not curve that far. Then Cal frigged Bobby’s dick until he got a half-hard-on. It hung about seven inches hard over Bobby’s mouth. Cal lifted the kids head by the neck.
“Come on, pigcunt. Suck your own dick like the sick slimehole you are!”
The other boys dutifully helped to push on Bobby’s legs and back. Bobby could not breathe. He stuck his tongue out and dutifully licked at his own cockhead.
“Come on, piggy, suck your dick. Suck that faggot fuck stick, you shit-eating, piece of crap, you.”
Poor Bobby found himself sucking his own cockhead. Then while he sucked his dick, Cal slid the sausage out of the boy’s ass and forced his own big fat prick into the maltreated ass-pussy. He fucked the boy hard, each shove of his man meat pushing the boy’s own dick deeper into his own mouth. The other boys clapped in time as Cal fucked the fresh cunt meat. Bobby sucked his own dick, some of the drippings lubricating his mouth. The Cal was so fucking horny it did not take long before shot a humongous load into the ass-pussy, and he pulled out. He was replaced by another big trustee dick. All six trustees fucked Bobby’s ass and shot off inside. Then they let the boy lay on the cement floor, struggling for breath and wracked with pain. Cal threw a stainless steel tablespoon onto the floor next to Bobby’s head.
“Time for lunch, pig cunt, spoon our fuck sauce out of your cunt and eat it!”
The trustees sat, sipping beers and laughing as Bobby, sitting on the floor, stuck the spoon up his own asshole and spooned out wads of cum to slurp up into his mouth. He no longer balked at orders. Whatever they told him to do, he did. A boy at Lakeland can be broken that easily.
Next, a door opened, and a trustee dragged in a boy whom Bobby recognized at once. It was Tyler, his black partner from drama class. Tyler’s abuse had been nonstop as well, and he looked dazed and confused. The new trustee led Tyler around the room by his big black dick, and the other boys called him names like Niggercunt and Sambopussy. Tyler stared at the floor and sniffled back some goop that had run from his nose. He had been crying steadily too. They forced Tyler to sit on a chair and shove the Italian sausage up his black boy asshole. The swollen ass lips were red and stretched. Now they dragged Bobby over to the seated African American.
“Eat your lunch, pigcunt, eat the sausage turd out of this fine nigger pussy.”
They made Bobby eat his lunch out of Tyler’s asshole.
Tyler, for all of his humiliation and degradation and pain, felt lucky when he saw the color of Bobby’s ass. That boy had really gotten the ass beating of his life. And the eighteen-year-old trustees were having fun like only a wild gang of eighteen-year-old boys can. They joked and chatted about this and that, one of them stuck his dick in Tyler’s mouth and got a suck job while Bubby ate his lunch. When they gave Bobby some beer to drink, it was like a little bit of heaven shining down into hell. He gulped the beer gratefully, thanking his captors, blessing them. They were the masters, and he was the pig cunt.
There was something terribly demeaning about Tyler’s subservience, perhaps because he was older than or almost as old as the trustees were, or maybe because he had been a proud black male, and was now a broken black pussy boy. The trustees delighted in calling him racially offensive names, each name like a slap to his handsome black face.
“How was that nigger blowjob, Jake?” Cal asked, slapping Tyler’s face with his hand.
“Oh, great, Jiggylips is a perfect cocksucker.”
“I think I’ll try me one.”
Cal stuck his swollen dick still coated with Bobby’s dried ass slime into Tyler’s mouth. Like Bobby, Tyler was becoming immune to the tastes of cum, and sweat, and piss, and shit. He just sucked like a good boy. An excellent teenage cocksucker is a real find. Some men travel the globe and spend hundreds of thousands of dollars looking for the perfect teenage cocksucker. There has to be that perfect combination of youthful innocence and superb cocksucking skill. The boy must feel degraded and humiliated and repulsed at the same time his young lips are greedily slurping at the big fat leaking cock in his mouth. At the same time that the boy hates himself for giving in, he must realize that he is now a cocksucker! A dick slurper, a prick licking piece of teenage boy cunt mouth who is on earth for only one reason, to service men’s fat fuckers! While Bobby still resisted mentally, Tyler was coming to accept his role in life, his purpose, his reason for being. He was a black fuck toy.
“Oh shit, I gotta take a dump,” the big blond Germanic kid said, rubbing his hard rippled stomach.
“Oh no,” Cal protested, after pulling his spent prick from Tyler’s mouth a string of fuck connecting his pisshole with the black boy’s lips, “you’ll mess up pig cunt’s nice clean toilet. You can’t do that.”
“Well, what the fuck should I do? I gotta shit, and I gotta shit bad.”
“Well, here’s an idea. Why don’t you take a shit in old Tyler’s mouth? He won’t mind, will you, Tyler pal?”
Poor Tyler’s body trembled, but he shook his head no.
“Tyler buddy, I can’t hear you. Tell my buddy here you want him to take a shit in your mouth.”
“Yes…yes, sir, please sir, I want you to take a…take a…shit in my mouth, sir.”
Bobby was glad. Bobby was happy. Cruel as that may sound, he was thrilled someone else was getting picked on and abused even it was for just a moment. The trustees made Tyler lay on the floor. They raised his head slightly by placing a plastic dishpan beneath it. Then the big muscular Germanic blond eighteen-year-old squatted over the black boy’s face.
“Now, open up real wide.” Cal laughed. “If you let even one turd drop onto the floor, it’s going to be The Pit for you boy, got that? You take that shit and chew and swallow like a good little nigger teen pussy.”
Tyler gagged and coughed and vomited and ate again as he suffered beneath the sweaty asshole of the shitting blond. Bobby closed his eyes and rested while Tyler ate shit. He drifted off, dreaming of home and his family and maybe sharing a nice warm bed with Carlos and perhaps delighting the Latino boy by letting him sleep with his huge brown uncut cock up Bobby’s snug twelve-year-old asshole every night.
Burke sat with the Governor in the bleachers along with twenty or so other guests and sponsors of Lakeland Academy. They had been invited to attend a gym class conducted by Coach Kraw, always a pleasant afternoon. Many of the guests already had hard-ons in anticipation of events to come. The few women present had dripping pussies. Burke would have banned cunt altogether, but money is money, and you did not tell a millionaire like Mrs. Lafcadiohern to shove her dough up her twat.
At the sound of the bell, the twenty-two boys in the gym class ran from the locker room dressed in only very close-fitting jockstraps. On the older boys especially, the leg straps cut into the ass flesh, and the tiny stretched pouches barely contained twelve-year-old dick, much less the huge cocks of the eighteen-year-old boys. The pouches were pushed away from the genitals, exposing bits of ball bag and dick to the onlookers. The boys, ranging in age from twelve to eighteen in this particular class, particularly hated guest days. It seemed as if Coach Krawl was even more cruel than usual if that was possible and sometimes there where accidents that brutally hurt the boys. Krawl, a beefy muscular ex-weightlifter Marine in his mid-thirties with a brown buzz cut and a tight muscle shirt, followed the boys, and his three trustees armed with cattle prods followed him.
A beautiful divergence of boy flesh—blonds, brunettes and redheads—lined up before the bleachers and placed their hands behind their necks, displaying slender unformed chests with flat, pink nipples and well-developed torsos with bulging pecs and huge swollen tits, pale pink tummies with a slight, boyish curve and tight, flat stomachs with ridges of muscle, handfuls of delicate boy ass, still smooth as peach skin, almost as small as melon halves and hard, taut, tan asses with ass dimples indenting each cheek. The boys had one thing in common, though. They were all scared out of their wits.
At the sound of Coach Krawl’s whistle, the boys shucked their jockstraps at once and then stood with their legs spread precisely shoulder-width apart, hands once again behind the neck. Now, a cornucopia of cocks was displayed. Baby cocks and huge fat fuck sausages, cut and uncut, pink and brown and black and yellow, boy dick of every size and shape. Something for even the most jaded appetite. And with the dicks, every size and shape of smooth boy nut sacks, small, drawn up pink ones, low, loose hanging brown-skinned ones, pouches swollen and hard, bags thin and low with nuts riding in the bottom. The guests salivated at the boys’ cocks and balls.
To have a small cock at Lakeland exposed a boy to much ridicule. The younger boys were, of course, the butts of most of the jokes, being called, cunts, twats, dickless, pencil prick, etc. An even worse situation for a boy was to be older and still have a small cock. Woe is the lad who was sixteen or older and didn’t hang at least five inches flaccid He was mistreated unceasingly for his physical shortcomings.
At another whistle from Coach Krawl, who always spiced up on visitor days with a little fun, the twenty-two boys reached down with one hand and lifted the jockstrap belonging to the boy next to him. The boy at the end, a slight twelve-year-old boy, had to rush to the far end of the line to get his. Then the boys lifted the other boy’s obviously stretched and dirty jockstrap and put them in their mouths. At a command from the coach, they began to chew and suck loudly on the fuck pouches, giving the guests a hearty laugh. Then, cock pouches still in their mouths, the boys turned to the left.
The Governor, who could resist no longer, reached out and cupped the rather full, low-hanging ball bag of a fourteen-year-old boy standing before him.
“This kid has nice nuts. I wouldn’t mind beating these,” he remarked, flicking with his finger to snap against the scrotum flesh and send the boy into waves of pain. “What’s his pussy like?”
“Steve, show the Governor your cunt!” Burke barked.
Steve turned his ass at once toward the bleachers and bending over, grabbed an ass cheek in each hand and spread them apart revealing a well-stretched but still pink and moist asshole.
“Jesus, how many time has the little cunt been fucked?” the Governor asked, sinking three fingers into the asshole.
“How many times have you been fucked, Steve?” Mr. Burke asked.
“Three hundred and twenty times this month, sir,” the boy answered.
“He’s very popular at parties, a cute kid like him always is. Do you like to get fucked, Steve?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I love a big dick up my worthless twat. Would one of you like to fuck me now?”
The Governor leaned back.
“I don’t like them that broken. I like a little resistance. Christ, if they need a dick that badly, you might as well fuck a real girl.”
“Well to each his own taste, Governor. We have boys of every degree here as you well know.”
A whistle blew, and the boys began to jog around the gym, jockstraps still in their mouths, balls, and dicks flopping as they ran on big bare boy feet. The guests watched the bouncing boy ass as the class rounded the far turn.
“Whatever happened to the new boy, Bobby? Now, there’s a little cunt I’d love to sink my prick into.”
“Bobby is in the training room for a few days. It’s a bit difficult to know which way to go with him and how far to break him. His pouty little cocksucker mouth really belongs on a complete submissive, but something is appealing in his snotty punkish resistance. He also looks truly beautiful when he’s in pain. And he has an enormous dick for twelve, over seven-inches erect and growing. He’s a real prize.”
“Yeah, well, thanks for sharing. I wanted to see the little pussy today.”
“Oh, you can, Governor, anything for you. We can stop by the training room after gym class.”
Burke would not dare upset the Governor, even though he coveted little Bobby for himself and had special orders for the boy’s development.
The Governor sat back, rubbing the bulge in his slacks, to watch the rest of the gym class. And what a fun time it was too. After six laps, the boys were made to do squats for the guests, displaying their dicks and balls to beautiful advantage. Then they had to do fifty jumping jacks, the effort of which sent balls and dicks slapping around with such force that more than one boy dropped to the floor in pain. The guests loved that.
Next up was wrestling. Boys of the same approximate size were paired off naked, of course. The rules were that there were no rules. The winning boy got credits; the losing boy got beaten on the balls ten times. The boys scrapped like hell, kicking, scratching, biting even as well as punching. The match went on until one boy screamed for mercy. In the fray, boys grabbed each other’s dicks and balls and twisted. Boys jammed fingers up each other’s assholes. Boys bit each other’s ears, tits, and dicks. A good time was had by all in the bleachers.
To finish this particular portion of the class, Coach Krawl had a six-foot-four muscular eighteen-year-old boy fight a slender, small for his age, twelve-year-old boy. The little kid was so scared he pissed right there on the gym floor, getting a round of applause. The fight was a mess. Coach Krawl would not call time no matter how much the twelve-year-old boy gave up. The eighteen-year-old boy wiped up the floor with the kid, eventually forcing the kid’s face into the puddle of piss and making him lick it up.
A portly red-faced man in the bleachers leaned into Burke.
“I’d like to match those two up again tonight. But the twelve-year-old boy should have his hands tied behind his back, and the older boy should be encouraged to go a lot further!”
“Of course, Father Barre, we’ll set it up at once,” replied Burke with a knowing smile.
Now, four of the boys were engaged in bicycle races, but not like any you have ever seen. These were stationary bikes with digital readouts above them indicating miles covered and speed. There was also an indicator marked ‘inches.’ The four sixteen-year-old boys of the same approximate weight, height, and body type were seated on the most unusual bike saddles from which protruded four-inch pink dildos, about as thick as a Coke bottle. These dildos went up the boy’s asses. The boy’s feet were strapped to the pedals as Coach Krawl explained the rules.
“The boy who wins gets fifty school credits. The second-place boy gets five ball beatings. The third, ten swats and last place cunt gets twenty scrotal swats. He ain’t gonna make babies for a long time.” Krawl’s way with an audience impressed Burke. “Now, the harder the boys pedal, of course, the faster they go. You can see their time above their heads. But, and here’s the fun part, the harder they pedal, the harder and deeper the dildo goes up their little cunts! It goes in and out with each revolution of the pedals, so a boy can really fuck himself fast and hard on one of those bikes. After class, any of you so inclined to try the bikes are welcome to.”
“Naw, Coach,” one youngish guy in the back yelled. “I just wanna lick off the dildos.”
Burke sneered at more laughter from the audience. He knew the guy was dead serious.
“The thing is,” Krawl quipped back. “That’s a lot of dildo. You see, they start out at a mere four inches, but they fuck deeper as the speed increases and go all the way; up to fifteen inches if need be. I don’t think any boy has ever wanted to win quite that badly.”
It was a great race. The boys grunted and moaned yelled and cursed while they pedaled, sweat pouring off their smooth, well-toned, young bodies, arching their backs in pain as they were ass fucked, throwing their heads, their knuckles white from gripping the bike handlebars. Deeper and deeper faster and faster, the boys fucked themselves as they struggled to win the race. One boy threw a tremendous hard-on, and the crowd cheered. The other three stayed soft. Big naked finely arched boy feet pushed and shoved at the straps holding them to the pedals, as the bikes raced ahead, standing still. The boy with the hard-on was taking twelve inches. His mouth hung open, and spittle drooled down onto his chest as his big dick began to leak copious pre-cum. The other boys were at six, eight, and eleven inches. The lad with six inches up his ass just could not handle the big artificial dick.
“That boy is a disgrace,” The Governor harped on, “Hasn’t he had any cunt stretching classes?”
“We’ve kept that boy especially for today,” Burke smiled, yelling so the whole crowd could hear. “He’s got a virgin ass, never even had a finger up it before. We thought you might enjoy it.”
The virgin sixteen-year-old boy was howling, as he peddled gingerly, never having felt such pain in his whole sixteen years. He had been quite the athlete in high school, but he never had any asshole training, too bad for him.
“I’d like to fuck him tonight,” another guest chimed in.
“Be my guest. I should warn you that at the end of the race—win or lose—twelve-inches of dildo go up each boy’s ass, just for fun.”
The attention of the visitors was drawn to the boy in the lead as he began to scream and his fat teen prick shot sprays of cum all over his stomach, chest, and the bike. He was taking fourteen inches of dick up his boy-twat. Just then a buzzer went off indicating that he had won. The crowd went wild. They had never seen a winning boy cum at the precise moment of victory. All the boys slowed in exhaustion, and then reared back and wailed as the dildos were automatically rammed the full twelve-inches up their tender teen ass-cunts. The young guy from the audience ran to the middle of the gym floor and threw himself onto the bike of the winning boy, licking the cum from the kid’s stomach and chest. The crowd roared with laughter.
“That’s Senator Archer’s son, always a cut-up!” Burke snickered.
“Always a show off just like his old man,” the Governor grunted and filed the information for the future. He would not mind seeing Senator Archer’s son crawl around bare-ass naked. The kid was in his early twenties and really hunky. The Governor was not above blackmail. After all, he was a politician.
The next challenge was tug-o-war. Two boys with big balls were tied together via a rope connected to each of their nut sacks. Their arms were tied behind their backs. Then the rest of the boys lined up on either side, forming two teams. At the whistle, the two boys tied together tried to pull each other over a yellow line. Obviously, the strain on their ball bags was immensely painful, but they were aware of the other boy’s pain, so it was a careful struggle. Not so when the whistle blew again, and two more boys joined the tug, one boy grabbing each of the ball-bound youths around the waist. Since the boys in second place in the tug-o-war line felt no pain, their only desire was to win credits, so the two tied boy’s nuts were really stretched and yanked. They almost passed out from the pain. Another whistle two more boys joined three on each side now. How much would the front boys be able to tolerate? The boys had played this game before and enjoyed hurting the nuts of the front boys. It gave them a kind of release from their own pain.
NOW THERE WERE SIX BOYS ON EACH SIDE. It must have been agony for the tied boys, who were screaming mindlessly now.
“Isn’t it amazing how cruel boys can be to each other, given the right incentive,” the Governor remarked.
“Given the right incentive, indeed, shall we go visit Bobby?”
Burke rose, looking once more over the gym, his glance resting for a moment on Shawn Archer, the senator’s son, licking ass slime off the bicycle dildos. It takes all kinds to make up the world. One man’s pleasure is another man’s revulsion. One man’s meat is another man’s poison. What revolts and insults one titillates and arouses another. Burke looked up.
“What, I wonder, turns on God? Watching us struggle and slave in pain and darkness, I suppose. Watching us grovel toward Him for forgiveness for sins we never committed while we are tempted by Him toward new, more perverse actions.”
Burke’s prick commenced dripping in his trousers.
Bobby was totally disoriented, a condition which did not help his current challenge. He was on his knees, bare-assed with slender wrists tied behind his fine-boned twelve-year-old back. He was also blindfolded. Surrounding him, six trustees sat in a very close circle on folding chairs. Bobby had been given the task of learning to recognize his masters blindfolded. First, he had to identify each boy by smelling and licking his balls. Every time he got a ball sack wrong, he was punished with a cattle prod, and the game began again. After only four hours, he was able to identify each eighteen-year-old ball sack blindfolded. And get it right every time. An exceptional accomplishment for a sheltered twelve-year-old boy, don’t you think?
Now, for a much more difficult task, Bobby had to insert his tongue up the asshole of each trustee and then identify the trustee by name. His task had to be achieved by the feel and taste of the asshole alone. The teen trustees sat with their legs up and spread, so the shape and texture of the ass cheeks were of no help. Since all of the assholes were shaved or plucked of all hair, it really was only the shape of the ass ring, the thickness of pucker skin and the taste that gave Bobby any clues. His tongue had been deep up the current asshole for about thirty seconds.
“Well, clit lips, whose shithole are you sucking?” a voice demanded.
Bobby withdrew his slime-coated tongue. He hesitated too long and received a kick in his own ass crack from a barefoot behind him. He fell forward, burying his face in the eighteen-year-old trustee’s asshole. The boys laughed. Bobby regained his balance, subverting all sense of humiliation to accomplish the task at hand or lips to be more accurate. He chewed his lower lip, swollen and puffy from cocksucking and ass slurping, wrinkled his cute little boy nose with one last whiff of the pungent boy ass and made his guess.
It was wrong, of course, it was almost impossible to identify boy asshole by tongue and smell alone, and the boys knew this. They used it as further torment in Bobby’s endless nightmare training session. In mock anger, Cal threw Bobby onto his back and knelt over his face, his big eighteen-year-old dick dripping fuck slime all over Bobby’s mouth and nose. He ripped off the blindfold so he could see Bobby’s big dark cow eyes filled with fear.
“You fucked up again, cunt. Looks like you’ll never learn. We’re going to have to be a lot tougher on you, aren’t we twat face?”
“Yes, sir,” Bobby whimpered.
He wondered how they could possibly be any rougher than they had been for the last two days. Bobby had slept in a metal gym locker, his body folded in two. It had been opened at night only for the trustees to take nighttime pisses into his poor little mouth. During the day his hours had been filled with cruel and sadistic training sessions, endless experiments in humiliation and torture. The more Bobby suffered, the more the trustees needed to get their big swollen teenage dicks off, and, of course, they used Bobby’s body as their group cumdump. When a trustee had shot his load five or six times into Bobby or onto him or at him or whatever the current activity required, and he needed a rest, he would retire and a new trustee all horny and eager for some rough stuff would take his place.
The potential cruelty of eighteen-year-old boys is astounding. No wonder sports have become a violent outlet for young men. It lets off steam from the ever-pulsing cruel streak in their natures. These muscular eighteen-year-old boys simply delighted in making Bobby’s life as miserable as they could, and the more the twelve-year-old boy begged and blubbered and crawled, the harder their big fat swollen dripping pricks became until they swung and bounced in front of them like baseball bats. The fuck need level in the locker room was as high as it could possibly get and Bobby was the only receptacle.
Bobby ate dog food. It was thrown on the floor in an immense pile, and the trustees walked through it. Then Bobby had to lick it off their big bare feet. The only thing he had to drink in two days was boy piss. It was beer piss actually since the teenage trustees guzzled can after can.
And the training itself was gruesome. Bobby had to duck walk endlessly until he dropped, then he was pissed on and kicked. He was fucked every couple of hours by anyone who needed to dump jizz. Fingers and eventually hands stretched his asshole. He was made to crawl around the room barking like a dog or oinking like a pig as his boy tongue reached out for teenage dick or balls or ass. The trustees had spitting contests to see who could spit into his mouth from the furthest distance. Soon Bobby’s resistance to boy gob was broken down, and he hungrily licked the spit slime from his lips. They made him pull and twist his own nipples until he almost blacked out from the pain, telling him a cunt like him had to have twat titties, twelve-year-old twat titties. The trustees blew their noses in handkerchiefs and made Bobby suck them clean. The big blond German kid, who had shot off over twelve times in two days and still sported a dripping hard-on, made Bobby actually stick his tongue up his nose and lick out the snot and crud. They knew Bobby would not refuse the vilest command. He could not.
Each time the boy tried to crawl away in his mind to some safe house in his memory, thoughts of his dog or his sister or brother, he was jerked back to reality by some new horror. Bobby was taught the proper way to take a fuck, how to push his asshole muscles out—cunt muscles the trustees called them—to accommodate the big prick fucking into him. He learned the proper way to drink man piss, to let the dickhead rest on the tongue, so the taste of the piss filled the mouth before he swallowed.
All the while he was called the filthiest names, cunt face, scum sucker, twat breath, fucked up slutty piece of shit, dick drizzle. The boys relished each new insult and laughed as they hurled these titles at the poor quaking kid.
When Burke and the Governor entered the room, Bobby was on his hands and knees stretched over a folding chair seat, reaching his tongue out to lick a dripping trustee dick held just out of reach. Cal sat behind Bobby on a second folding chair, extending his foot so he could fuck Bobby’s tender asshole with his big toe. Bobby, who was learning fast, arched his back and pushed his boy twat out against the toe while at the same time stretching his tongue as far from his mouth as he could to try to reach the leaking prick. While he did this, he did not forget to grunt like a pig in heat. The other trustees drank beer and commented on Bobby’s technique.
“Come on, push that cunt out, girl. How you ever going be able to take on the whole high school football team if you haven’t got an elastic pussy.”
“Come on, girl, you’re not trying hard enough. Do you want to have to drink another diarrhea milkshake?”
“Oh, dear, it looks as if Bobby is coming along nicely,” the Governor commented, rubbing his hard dick through his eleven hundred dollar suit trousers
“The trustees have been well-schooled in the most subtle forms of education. They know how to bring out the best in a boy.” Burke said, his own big prick starting to leak in his jeans.
The trustees snapped to attention, their hardons bouncing and drooling, as they stood ramrod stiff.
“Bobby, front and center, come greet the Governor.” Burke barked.
Bobby looked up at the two men through the tangle of black hair hanging over his beautiful face. His eyes were red from crying, and his nose ran, either snot or cum. His naturally pouty twelve-year-old lips were swollen twice their normal size from dick sucking, and he looked absolutely beautiful.
“A vision,” the Governor whispered. “You should keep him like this all the time.”
“We intend to,” Burke laughed.
Bobby started to climb to his feet, then thought better of it and crawled on hands and knees over to the headmaster and the politician.
“Look at how that fuckable boy ass undulates as he crawls,” the Governor said.
Bobby was a piece of meat, nothing more than a piece of fuck meat. And somewhere deep in his mind, he was starting to realize that.
“Stand up cunt,” Burke said gently.
“Properly, tits out, ass-pussy out, back arched, mouth open, tongue slightly out.”
Bobby took the stance he had learned in training. He knew he had to push with his tits and ass-pussy until it hurt, so he did, but it was not good enough.
“Come on, whore. Give me more nipple. Get those girlie tits out!”
The Governor reached out and grabbed both of Bobby’s big sore nipples. When Bobby stumbled forward, the Governor put one loafer-clad foot on the boy’s stomach to hold him still and then really tugged on the boy’s titties. Snot ran from Bobby’s nose to his mouth. Burke roughly shoved a finger up Bobby’s rectum. Bobby sobbed, crying dry tears because there were no salt tears left.
“You like that, twat? You like something up your pussy?”
“Come on, girl. I want to see some nipple action here. Be a whore like Marilyn Monroe. Get those titties out!” The Governor tugged and twisted Bobby’s brown nubs, now red and raw from his training. “Naughty little cunts like you need training. We can’t raise a country of disrespectful, snot-nosed kids. Gotta keep the little cunts in line, you were born a cunt. Oh, you didn’t know it, but I can tell. I can tell when a boy is really a slut mouth cocksucking ass slurping pussy. Does that bother you when I call you those names, Bobby?”
“No, sir,” Bobby squealed, trying not to scream from the torture of his boy nipples and the finger jabbing at his prostate.
“No, it doesn’t bother you because you know that’s what you really are. You’re not a normal boy who likes girls and sports. You’re a fucked-up, pussy-mouthed pervert who can’t get enough prick to satisfy those hungry cunt holes of yours. I’m right, aren’t I, Bobby?”
“Yes, sir, you are completely right.”
“At home, at the Governor’s mansion, I found my little boy, not yet a teen, smoking. Can you believe it? Well, you know what I did to punish the little shit? I made him smoke two cartons of cigarettes a day for a month! He was violently sick for a month. I kept him bare-assed naked in his room for a fucking month, inhaling cigarettes, when he didn’t inhale deeply enough, I added an extra pack to his schedule. That cured him! So I would say the cure for you is to give you all the dick you need and then some. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Bobby?”
“Oh…yes, sir, whatever you think best,” the boy groveled, wanting the big digging finger out of his asshole. Burke did withdraw the finger.
“Here Bobby suck this finger clean.”
“Now, Bobby, here’s a nice piece of school stationery and a pen. I want you to sit down and write a nice letter to your father. I want you to tell him how much you love our school and how much it has helped you. Then I want you to confess something to your Daddy. I want to confess to him that you are a homosexual and that you have wanted to suck his big dick for years. I want you to tell him you are in love with his big fat cock, and that you used to rush into the bathroom when he’d finished pissing to lick the rim of the toilet to get a little piss off the toilet bowl. I want you to tell him how you used to steal his condoms after he had fucked your mother and how you used to suck the cum out of them. Confess how sick you are to your Daddy, and how you hope Lakeland can cure you of your sick desires.
“While you are at it, tell your daddy how much you want to fuck your little brother’s asshole. That should ensure that you stay with us for a nice long time and also get your daddy sending in some nice fat donations to help the school. Do that for me, Bobby, will you, but before you start, why don’t you suck the Governor’s cock, and mine too while you’re at it!”
Later, in Burke’s office, Carlos stood before the headmaster and the Governor.
“Strip off your shorts and tee shirt and beat that big uncut Latino cock for us, will you, Carlos?”
“My goodness, the girls must have squealed when Carlos rammed that big fuck tool up their cunts,” the Governor observed while the Latino beat off and the two men sipped brandy. “Carlos, bring that prick over here and let a little pre-cum drip into my brandy snifter. Yes, indeed you are quite a juicer boy!”
“Thank you, sir,” Carlos said.
“Have you fucked Carlos’ ass, Governor?”
“Oh, not since he was fifteen, two years ago. I prefer young boy-pussy.”
“You are making a big mistake. Carlos has one of the most fuckable asses in the whole school. He uses his inner ass muscles to keep the fuck tight and intense, and the best part is he still hates to get fucked, don’t you, Carlos?”
The boy was grunting from stroking his own thick long dripping dick.
“Yes, Governor, Carlos still fancies himself a fucker, not a fuckee. No matter what we shove up that boy twat. He still thinks of himself as a man! Isn’t that right, Carlos?”
“I try, sir.”
Carlos was close to cumming, his muscular chest was heaving, nipples riding high now, long and pouty. Erect as his throbbing Latino dick.
“Don’t cum, Carlos, that would spoil the fun. Yes, Governor, Carlos still fancies himself a real girl fucker. That’s why we use him in the training of some of the new cunts. He impresses them and breaks them down. Some of the new boys even fall in love with him. You’re doing very well with Bobby, Carlos. The elevator incident was wonderful. I watched it five times on video.”
“Yeah, but did you have to let them throw me in the shit pit for Christ’s sake?”
Carlos was stroking slowly now, spooge running from his fat pisshole.
“That was your own fault. You improvised yourself into that shit trough. We didn’t have any choice. Now, we really want you to make the kid trust and love you. He must feel that you are his last salvation. That’ll really break him.”
“I need more time with him.”
“You mean you want to fuck his ass-pussy.”
“Yeah…that too…oh…shit, I’m close.”
“You cum without permission, you go to The Pit, Carlos!”
That little thought caused the boy’s dick to back off a bit. Yes, Carlos was a tool of the school, in more ways than one. He was in on Bobby’s training. He had been sent on to the boy to make Bobby fall for him. Carlos was part of Bobby’s training. But what Burke and the boys at Lakeland did not know was that something had gone wrong. Carlos actually fell for the boy, and now in his clever teenage mind, he was actually planning an escape. He would get out! And he would take Bobby with him!
Bobby staggered bowlegged and bare-assed down the hall. He was a royal fucking mess. Some might think it impossible to so fuck up such a sweet, normal American boy, but fucked up and fucked out he was. His first training session had gone very well. After the Governor and Burke had each shoved their big dripping dicks into the boys increasingly stretched asshole cunt, the six trustees had each fucked Bobby twice, making him clean their ass-slimed cocks with his swollen fucky mouth. Then ten new trustees were brought in, and each of them fucked the boy twice while the Governor watched while he dined, having his nuts and prick licked by a seven-year-old mouth cunt brought in with the salad course.
Poor Bobby, who had already been in a state of near exhaustion and numbness from days of abuse was now reduced to something slightly above the level of a mindless rag doll. The roaring pain in his ass-pussy turned to a dull burned out feeling, like the smoldering ruins of a once glorious building now reduced to rubble. As each new teen prick scraped the lining of his rectum, the battered teen baby would groan and push his cunt out more as instructed. Loads of male fuck gob were spooned out of the ravaged ass, and Bobby slurped up the slime. By the time his training period ended, little Bobby, twelve and innocent, had been fucked over seventy times. He was a little whore now, a fucktoy, a pussyboy, a cum-filled slop-hole made to receive man prick. He was starting to learn anyway that his ass-cunt and mouth-pussy were the only things about him that mattered, and that he had better learn how to use them well.
The Governor was delighted with his progress. He had Bobby give him a good ass suck while the seven-year-old mouth cunt sucked him dry. Bobby had developed a real fine style of shoving his boy tongue way up inside an asshole while his lips sucked the shithole pucker. The trustees had spent fourteen hours on the technique, making the boy suck their shitters until he got the style just right. Bobby learned to suck an asshole with enthusiasm, whether it was clean or caked with shit.
He definitely knew now that he would never get the taste and smell of dick out of his mouth and nose, and why should he? Cock was his master, his God, he was meant to serve dick. Big fuck bloated dripping cocks twenty-four hours a day raming as far up his cunt canal as possible, cock heaven and cock hell. One and the same. And for the pleasure of prick, boys must degrade and humiliate themselves. That Bobby learned too. Boys must not be afraid to abuse themselves terribly to appease the throbbing prick lust of men. This was Lakeland life. As far as the Governor was concerned, this should be the life of every cute boy between the ages of seven and eighteen. Baby faced cunt boys needed dick training badly.
The trick to the whole thing was, of course, that the more the boys begged and groveled and suffered, their angelic faces twisted by pain and humiliation, their pouty lips swollen and thick, their pug noses dripping snot and cum and piss, the more the boys writhed in agony, the bigger and wetter the pricks of the lust-filled men became. Suffering was the key, the boys suffering. The boys must never relax or enjoy the fuck act. If they began to accept their role as twat kid, some new horror must be added to rattle the boy’s sense of wellbeing. In this way, a kid remained totally fucked up and was thus much more fun. Of course, eventually, every boy reached the state of a mindless broken down fuckhole, a slobbering maniac, eyes rolling, drool running over smooth boy chest, teeth snapping at whoever came near, but then that boy was simply sent to The Pit.
Some boys did leave Lakeland, graduate if you will. Boys whose training was successful. They became the equivalent of hypnotized zombies, trained against their will to spread perversion throughout the world. Boys sent out into the world at sixteen, seventeen, and eighteen, who needed to get fucked hourly or suck dick continually. Boys who had been conditioned to need sex with family members, or animals, or clergymen, or teachers, or total strangers, or little boys. Boys who had been thoroughly corrupted. But such total mind control was a difficult task, and the success rate left something to be desired. Other boys were simply sold from the school as sex slaves. Still, it was a thrill for Burke to send a totally fucked up boy back out into society. Of course, the boy was carefully monitored, lest he slips back toward normalcy, just to protect Lakelands security and sovereignty.
Although Bobby was a fucked-up mess, his mind was not yet broken. It was addled to be sure, good and addled, but not yet broken. He still retained individual thoughts and did dwell now and then on subjects other than a juicy male dick. He staggered bare-assed down the school hall, cum and shit and piss bubbling out of his asshole, and even the other boys who had been forbidden to ever stare stopped in their own tasks long enough to gawk. His black hair was clotted with prick glop and looked stiff and brittle. His face was streaked with dried flaking milky colored cum slop and shit. Across his forehead had been written ‘CUMDUMP.’ With an arrow down his nose pointing at his sore, swollen lips, and it was true. The little boy’s mouth had become nothing but a cumdump.
His chest was coated with dried sex slime, piss, and shit. His big, round, swollen sow titties stood out about an inch ready to be milked. The trustees had worked long and hard on those pig udders until they were stretched and fat and nubby. His dick, which had been pumped with a machine but not allowed to release his boy seed, was grotesque, hard as an iron bar, angry and red, swaying before him as he walked bowlegged and bruised, legs spread so his beaten balls could swing freely. On his beautiful bruised bubble butt, the words ‘Fuck Hole’ had been written one word on each cheek.
Bobby’s big feet scraped along the floor, and every few feet, he stumbled. His eyes looked glazed, and his tongue protruded slightly from his lips. Spittle and cum dripped from his chin. According to many of the Lakeland faculty, this was the ideal state for a boy and one in which he should be kept.
Coach Krawl was hurrying down the hall with his usual tight-assed strut. Krawl never relaxed, never let down his hard-assed demeanor. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Bobby. Then he slapped the boy hard, sending him crashing into a wall and then slumping to the floor.
“You dumb cunt, you’re dripping cum and shit all over the hall. Get yourself to the cunt room and shower this instant, do you hear me?”
Bobby could not stand, so he crawled down the hall toward the cunt room door. Krawl shook his head at the lack of respect in boys nowadays and grabbed another boy by the scruff of the neck.
“You, prickpuss, you see those shit and cum drippings all up and down the hall, get your ass in gear now and lick them up. I want this floor spotless.”
Bobby crawled into the toilet room, he did not even look up, concentrating on the cold, white floor tiles beneath him. He headed for the showers beyond the shit trenches, and he did not even see Carlos until he was two feet from him. Carlos had been assigned trench duty, picking up the boys shit with bare hands and dumping it down the drain. Of course, there was an automated flushing system, but Burke preferred to let the boys do the work. He had been bothered by Carlos’ report to him concerning Bobby and suspected maybe the Latino boy had a woody for the new kid. Burke was one smart cookie. You do not hold a job like his if you’re not. So Carlos was on shit duty, and Bobby crawling toward the showers looked up and saw him at his side.
“Carloth,” Bobby croaked, his tongue swollen from dick sucking and coated with ass and cock slime.
“Jesus Maria, what have they done to you?”
Carlos jumped from the trench, his muscular brown body slick with sweat and shit. He lifted Bobby’s face with his shit-encrusted hands. Bobby cried with relief at being with his savior, his hero. Bobby fell into Carlos’ arms, and the Latino rocked the boy against his shit-streaked chest.
“I’ll kill them. I’ll kill the motherfuckers,” he hissed. “Poor baby, poor baby,” he whispered over and over again as Bobby’s lips found one of the muscular studs fat swollen nipples and began to suck on it.
Carlos tried to stroke the boy’s cum clotted hair, but he just got globs of shit in it. What an extraordinary way for two boys to fall in love. In the most disgusting, unwholesome surroundings, one can imagine love blossomed like a rose in an arctic wasteland. One big Latino hand slid down over Bobby’s smooth well-formed ass cheeks, and the boy bucked like a wounded deer.
“Oh, they fucked you bad, didn’t they? Oh, baby, we gotta get out of here.”
Bobby sucked the pouty brown nipple like it was his mother’s teat. He could feel Carlos thick uncut dick hardening against his naked body. Carlos removed the boys sucking mouth from his tit and replaced it with his mouth. He spit into Bobby’s mouth to cleanse it the best he could, then the two boys kissed long and hard. A genuine, true lovers kiss, mixing spit with cum and piss and shit, the sweetness of their teen lust making the flavor heavenly. Carlos licked the slime from Bobby’s face.
“You are so fucking adorable.”
Bobby winced when the thick Latino finger found his battered ass bud.
“I gotta baby. I just gotta feel your pussy. I’ll be gentle.” Carlos shitty finger rubbed the sore pussy. “Atta girl, just relax,” Carlos soothed.
He let more spit drip onto Bobby’s face, and the boy opened his young mouth to catch it like a baby bird being fed.
“I gotta fuck you, honey. I just gotta fuck you,” Carlos whispered, his fiery Latino fuck lust driving him over the edge.
“No more fucking, please, no more fucking,” Bobby begged.
“Baby, I just got to. I love you. It may be our only chance. I’ll be gentle. I won’t hurt you. You’ve been opened up by big trustee cock, so mine won’t be too much of a stretch. This is me, baby, Carlos, your lover.”
“It’ll hurt too much,” Bobby sobbed between kisses.
“Shhh…be a good girl. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
It was a lie, but Carlos could not help it. He needed to fuck. His dick was so stiff it always hurt, and he fucked real rough, too rough. He slammed his cock into pussy or ass until his big bloated balls bounced on ass flesh. It was just the way he was, one tough, rough motherfucker. He had not lied about loving the boy though. He was smitten with Bobby, something he had never felt in his life. Bobby tried to avoid the fuck by sliding down and taking the drooling uncut prick between his lips. He sucked the foreskin as it slid back to reveal the sloppy red prickhead. He could tell from the throb of the dick that Carlos needed to fuck. His man needed to fuck, and fucking was more important than life. Carlos threw the boys legs up over his shoulders, bending the kid in two. He put the wet head of his cunt stuffer to the raw ass lips.
“Just relax, girl, just relax like a good little cunt. Relax your slutty pussy for me.”
Carlos could not help talking dirty when he fucked. He had been brought up that way. His father had talked that way when he fucked Carlos and his little brother.
“Relax your pussy, gimme that pussy, push it out for me. Take my cockhead, loosen up those cuntlips.”
Bobby tried for his lover. He wanted to be a good girl. To open his cunt for his boyfriend’s big dick
Carlos began to tug on Bobby’s big nipples, using them as handles as he forced more and more dick up the well-fucked asshole. Bobby was caught between pain and ecstasy, caught in a sex warp, lost in a lust world where nothing mattered except satisfying his lover’s dick. Bobby wanted to submit, even if it meant dying for his love. Even if the pain killed him, he must give until he had nothing left to give.
“Yeah…ugh…that’s it, whore…take this big dick…you slut cunt…oh…you fucking beautiful fuckhole, you. Oh…you fucking dick sewer…I love you. I LOVE YOU.”
“I love you too,” Bobby swooned as the Latino prick stuffed his twelve-year-old boy-twat.
“Atta girl, fuck back, fuck back against my prick. Suck it up your cunt. Oh, baby, when we get out of here, I’m never going to take my prick out of your ass. I’m gonna leave it up your hole twenty-four hours a day.”
“Oh…god, yes…fuck me…fuck me,” Bobby hollered.
His little boy ass was eating the teen dick. Carlos slammed the boy-cunt as hard as he could, his prick churning up Bobby’s bowels, his fat Latino nuts banging the ass cheeks. So caught up in their fuck lust were the two lovers they did not see the door open. Nor did they see Burke and the Governor standing there watching them fuck. Burke snapped his fingers, and four burly trustees dragged the screaming Carlos off his boy love, his big drooling dick making a popping sound as it uncorked itself from Bobby’s ass.
“You fucking swine!” Burke shouted, spit flying from his mouth as he backhanded the Latino teen. “We trusted you.”
Carlos slammed into the floor and began to crawl back toward Bobby.
“Gotta finish the fuck,” he muttered over and over, his big dick sputtering like a machine gun. “I love you, Bobby. I LOVE YOU.”
The trustees dragged him off the sobbing twelve-year-old once again. Burke kicked Carlos in his large hairless nut bag.
“For this, you ungrateful cunt, you go to The Pit!”
Carlos screamed in horror, and Bobby screamed for his poor lover.
“Remember, Bobby, I love you. Always remember, I love you. Be always with me,” the teenager screamed as the trustees dragged him from the room.
“I love you!” Bobby shouted as best he could
Burke kicked the twelve-year-old into the shit trough. He began to stuff the boy’s mouth with shit.
“You love him, do you? We’ll see about that. We’ll work that love right out of your perverted little pussy, you stinking piece of boy shit, you. We’ll make you curse the day you ever met Carlos. We’ll make you hate Carlos!”
“Never,” Bobby screamed, the sound clogged by wet sloppy boy turds. “Never…never…never.”
Eventually, he had to stop crying and swallow instead so he could breathe.
Bobby hung upside down, suspended by his tethered ankles. His twelve-year-old body had lost some weight since his arrival at Lakeland, and his flat tummy showed muscular development. Hanging as he was, upside down, his fat fleshy hairless ballsack was nicely on display swinging over his prick, which was somewhat shriveled from pain and discomfort. His adorable preadolescent face hung at the exact level of the naked prick and balls of the trustee sitting on the folding chair in front of him. Bobby dutifully licked his tongue over the wrinkled nutsack flesh and nine-inch prick stalk. The trustee’s cock was dripping long strings of pre-fuck onto the floor. Two five-pound weights hung from Bobby’s developing sow tits, stretching the boy nipples out grotesquely. The muscular eighteen-year-old trustee sitting with his legs wide spread raised one naked foot and tapped Bobby’s body so the boy would swing.
“Catch my dick with your mouth,” the trustee said with a husky voice full of fuck need.
As Bobby’s slender body swung closer, the young boy tried to get his lips around the dripping prick.
“Come on, cunt, you can do better than that.”
Bobby swung away from the sweating well-toned trustee, on the next swing in he got his lips around the large helmet-shaped dickhead, but the slick pre-fuck caused his mouth to slide off on the backswing.
“Come on, you fucking piece of shit, get that dick in your mouth. Do you want me to tell Mr. Burke that you aren’t even trying?”
At the mention of Burke, Bobby whimpered and pushed his lips out as far as his cute pouty mouth would allow. On the next swing, he secured the fat eighteen-year-old prickhead in his mouth. Bobby felt a moment of peace within himself. He was safe for another minute until the next horror began.
“Perfect, cunt. Now slobber up that dick slop, and don’t forget to make piggy noises.”
Twelve-year-old Bobby slurped on the thick slimy eighteen-year-old cock. He was at home cocksucking now, he had sucked hundreds in the past few days and the thought no longer shattered him.
The trustee eased the gobbling kid off his dripping dick and spun him around, so his rear end showed. Bobby had a prize-winning little boy ass. Perfectly shaped tiny asscheeks, thrusting out from a slender back. Bobby’s ass was superb, and the beauty of it was enhanced by the red welts crossing the ass cheeks, stunning scarlet raised welts from the last belt whipping he had received. Many ass experts feel that a young boy’s asscheeks look at their best when heavily welted, puffy swollen mounds of red covering the pale, smooth peach-like texture of the child ass.
The trustee thought so. He loved the sight of a well-whipped boy ass. It made his dick drip. He measured practically everything in life by how much it made his dick drip. If a thing did not make his dick drip, it was not worth doing. Now he leaned in and spread the boy’s bruised asscheeks. Bobby winced and moaned. The ass crack was bright red from being beaten with a switch. The educators at Lakeland know that a boys ass crack is particularly vulnerable to pain, so a good ass crease beating is administered for the slightest infraction.
Bobby’s asshole itself was swollen and red. The ass lips spread like an open flower. The result of concerted efforts to turn the asshole into a pussy. Yes, indeed, little Bobby, a twelve-year-old boy, had the stretched cunt of a well-fucked twat. In fact, like most of the boys in the school, Bobby’s name was not even used anymore. He was just called ‘Cunt,’ and he was starting to think of himself as a boy cunt.
The trustee stuck one finger from each hand into the boy’s asspussy and then spread the hole as wide as he could. Bobby’s cunt was gaining an elastic quality much admired by the faculty and adult visitors of Lakeland School For Boys.
However, the trustee had to cut his training session with the fuckable little shit short today, some fucking big shot had dibs on the kid’s ass for the night. He got up and lowered Bobby’s writhing body to the floor. Bobby lay there, breathing heavily. The trustee loosened the ropes from the boy’s ankles, but before Bobby could sit up, the eighteen-year-old spun around and sat right on the kid’s face. His big beefy, hunky jock ass hunkered down right over Bobby’s nose and mouth.
“Before you go on your special date with the senator’s son. I want a nice ass suck.”
Bobby knew how to suck ass. True, he was not an expert yet, but he had not received any demerits in his ass sucking class this morning. He tried hard to remember the proper procedure for sucking ass. First, lick the ass crack. Well, the trustee was planted so forcefully on his face it was not easy. Still, he licked the best he could. Second, run your tongue around the asshole itself, cleaning and wetting it. Third, stick your tongue just a bit into the asshole and wiggle it around. Flutter the tongue against the ass lips. Then when it was really wet and sloppy, and the strong taste of the asshole was in your mouth, stick your tongue well into the pucker up the rectum. With your tongue in the rectum, suck on the asshole.
Bobby did this, and the trustee moaned with pleasure, frigging his thickening drooling fuck tool. Aw, fuck, everything about this twelve-year-old boy cunt made his dick drip. He bounced a bit on Bobby’s face, smashing the boy’s nose well into the ass crease. Now Bobby began to fuck his tongue in and out of the asshole, stretching his tongue until it hurt, as he had been taught to do. In and out the tongue fucked scraping up inner ass juice and slime.
If someone had told little Bobby he would be sucking asshole just a few weeks earlier, he would have thought them nuts, but here he was hungrily slurping shithole, mainly because it was a reprieve from being hurt. Bobby stretched his tongue out even further, doing a turd probe. It was essential to try to touch turd, it was a sign you were really trying. The root of Bobby’s tongue ached, but he stretched it out even farther until the very tip came up against an obstruction. He swiped the tongue tip over the object, then drew his tongue back into his own mouth to taste. Yes, it tasted like shit.
The hunky trustee sensed Bobby’s victory and beat his prick faster and faster. Bobby sucked on the ass as hard as he could trying to draw the shit log into his mouth. If he could get a turd into his mouth, the trustee was sure to be proud of him. Bobby no longer had any dignity and pride in himself. He only sought approval from his betters, and that included everyone. The trustee grunted and arched his back, stuck out his muscular chest and ground his asshole into Bobby’s face. He squeezed his thick fat veined prick, and a long white spray of fuck shot out across the room.
“Oh…fuck…yeah!” he shouted.
And Bobby felt reasonably sure he had done well.
Two hours later he was taken up in the elevator to the penthouse to meet Terry Archer, son of the conservative senator Terrence Archer. Terry was only twenty-one and one wild fucker. His father left strict instructions with a dozen lawyers to keep the boy’s behavior out of the papers at all costs. Terry, on his eighteenth birthday, had been given fifty million dollars by pop. Mostly to get rid of him, and the boy had purchased a lifetime membership as a sponsor of Lakeland Academy for Boys.
He was a good looking young man, all tanned and smooth with blond hair and an all-American boy face. And the meanest son of a bitch to ever walked the face of the earth. As a senior in high school, he had delighted in dating freshman girls and getting them pregnant, then dropping them. He proudly announced he had fucked one hundred twenty-eight virgins and gotten almost one hundred girls pregnant. Needless to say, he liked boys even more than girls. He delighted in humiliating and breaking a boy, showing him the power of money and position. He honestly felt he owned the world and everyone in it.
Terry was wearing a red silk kimono and sipping Chateau Neuf du Pape, nursing a hard-on that had not abated ever since he saw Bobby crawling down the hall on his way to class. He had heard stories about Bobby’s amazing ass, and now the bare naked twelve-year-old was standing shyly in front of him.
“Bobby,” Terry said in a gentle, soothing voice, and Bobby was shocked, as almost no one except Burke used his name anymore. “Bobby, I don’t know if you know who I am. I’m Terrence Dixon Archer III, and I can help you. I can take you away from this place, to my private home in Greenwich. You can have a room of your own and a television and all kinds of nice things if you pass the test. Would you like to leave this place, Bobby, and come live with me?”
He too considerate, too caring, and Bobby was at once aware of a trick. Still, anything to get away from Lakeland.
“Yes sir, I’d like that.”
“I have a swimming pool, and horses, and a tennis court, and I’m looking for a special young friend, someone to share my life with. A special friend who knows how to obey orders flawlessly. Do you think you can obey orders flawlessly?”
“I can try, sir.”
Bobby allowed his mind to dream of being free. That was dangerous.
“Well, you’re going to have to do more than try. You’re going to have to pass some challenging tests, to prove your dedication and loyalty and ability. You can stop at any time, but if you pass the tests and you want to come with me, I’ll take you back to my home. I have been watching you, Bobby, and I have a big crush on you.”
Why did everyone offer him a choice when there was no choice? Bobby agreed to submit to Terry’s tests. The first was to determine if Bobby could be loyal to a new family instead of his old one, Terry told him. A trustee, who served Terry, unrolled a large poster onto the floor. Bobby looked down at it and his beautiful big eyes filled with tears. His long black eyelashes became coated with heavy saltwater until they swelled and burst and the sadness ran down his smooth, tender cheeks. The large poster on the floor was a blowup of the face of Bobby’s mother.
“Mom,” Bobby whined, his full lower lip trembling.
Terry’s dick bounced, and the head stuck itself out through the robe.
“That’s my mom.”
“Don’t be a little fucking pussy, Bobby. Be a big boy. I need my boys devoted to me, not their former families. Now prove to me how strong you are. I want you to piss on the picture of your mother.”
Bobby stood there naked and innocent, sobbing, looking down at the photo of his mother and wanting to be enveloped in her warm, loving arms.
“Come on, Bobby, do you want to get out of this hellhole or not? Now take a nice healthy piss on your mom’s face.”
A cry emerged from the delicate twelve-year-old that sounded like that of a wounded animal as he arched his back, and a strong spray of yellow piss cascaded down onto this mothers face.
“Good boy! Good boy, Bobby! I can see you’re strong. That’s good. Keep pissing, piss it all out, all over the fucking cunt’s face.”
Bobby sobbed more loudly, as he continued to piss, and Terry’s big dick started to drip. When Bobby had finished, Terry instructed the boy to get a hard-on. He watched with an amused expression as Bobby frigged his boy cock. At last, the little boy’s dick stood at a proud seven inches.
“Very good, Bobby, you have a beautiful prick. You’ll grow up to be a really studly fucker if you get away from this place. Now, I want you to lay down and fuck your mothers face!”
Bobby was wracked with sobs, as he lowered himself to his knees and then lay down in the piss over the photo of his mom’s face. He began to hump his dick against the photo.
“That’s it, Bobby, fuck your mom, fuck the shit out of the old cunt, fuck that face, fuck that photo, you’re fucking your mother, Bobby. You’re a motherfucker!”
Bobby closed his eyes and thought of Carlos. He wondered what had happened to his lover, to his savior. Was his handsome Latino in The Pit? Was his protector even still alive? He concentrated on Carlos’ fit body, his face, his cruel yet sensitive smile, his big uncut prick. He could smell Carlos, taste Carlos.
The twelve-year-old boy shot a huge load all over the poster of his mother’s face. He jerked and humped in the piss, his boy cum mixing with piss, creating a sloppy, sticky mess.
“Very good, Bobby, you passed the first test. Very good, I’m proud of you. I think I could fall in love with you.”
Terry was openly jerking his eight-inch prick.
“You did splendidly, as Daddy used to say when I got all A’s. Now, be a clean little boy, Bobby, and lick up all your cum and piss. You mustn’t leave a mess. Lick the dick snot off your mom’s face, and we’ll go on to test number two.
Terry Archer, son of the famous conservative senator, seemed like a nice normal handsome young man. He had a smooth, quiet voice, a warm smile, slender, sensitive fingers, a lean but well-packed body, and sparkling eyes. He seemed normal enough.
Terry was testing Bobby, enticing him with promises of getting him out of Lakeland. Even the glimmer of hope held up before the abused twelve-year-old boy was enough to enable him to endure all sorts of horrors. Nothing could be worse than Lakeland.
Bobby’s tummy was bloated with soapy water. The soap made the cramps more painful and the water harder to control. He was on his back, stretched out on a table. Terry gently stroked Bobby’s bloated stomach with one hand, commenting to the boy that he looked nine months pregnant.
“Hold that soapy water inside you, don’t lose even a drop. We have to make sure you have good anal control. Can’t have you shitting all over the floor of my beautiful house, can we?”
Terrence Archer leaned in and gently kissed Bobby on the lips, running his tongue over the boy’s swollen puffy delectable lips. Then he licked Bobby’s face all over. Bobby moaned in extreme pain. He had almost blacked out from the last attack of cramps and if it got any worse. He knew he would shit the enema water all over the table. His large teen feet twisted and his toes curled. His boy’s hands made knotted fists, his slender chest labored to take deep breaths. His little boy prick had withered to a stub nestled in his big boy balls.
“Pleeease…sir. I gotta shit it out.”
“Just a little longer, baby, some of the other boys I’m considering held out longer. If you want to get out of this place, you have to tie their record. Just try to relax. Here let me help you.”
Terry reached out one hand and gently massaged Bobby’s twelve-year-old dick. It was the last thing the boy wanted. It just made the cramps worse. Terry rolled the boy penis in his fingers and tugged on it gently. The dick began to fill and swell. Bobby raised his ass a bit, making his swollen belly even more grotesque. The next cramp was so bad Bobby bit his lower lip. Terry didn’t like that at all.
“We can’t have you damaging yourself. You are far too beautiful to damage. Here, bite on this, so you don’t hurt yourself.”
It was a butt plug, freshly removed from the ass of a fifteen-year-old downstairs. Bobby did not mind the anal smell. He bit down hard on the rubber dick, and it did help. The wave of cramps passed, and he had a moment of peace.
“You know, I think you’re my favorite boy so far. I’d love to have you come live with me,” Terrence cooed.
Terry was still massaging Bobby’s hardening cock. The other hand flicked Bobby’s big fat pouty nipples. When nipples and dick were both painfully erect, and the boy was moaning in a combination of belly pain and boy lust, Terrence continued his administrations.
“Now, Bobby, I’m just going to sensitize your titties and dickhead a little bit to bring you more pleasure. I know that boys your age have very sensitive dickheads and nipples to begin with, but if we heighten the nerve endings, then sex will be even more fun for you. You see, I have your best interests at heart.”
Terry produced a piece of rough grade sandpaper. With it, he gently rubbed the very tip of the boy’s erect nipple nub.
Bobby bucked on the table. His young ass rose and slammed back down, his swollen belly heaved, as he arched his chest and twisted.
“Now be a big boy and lie still, I don’t want to have to tie you down. Now stick that nice fat boy tittie up for me, come on.”
Bobby tried to breathe in through his nose. His nose ran, and snot dripped down his face, as Terry briskly rubbed the sandpaper over his nipples. Bobby threw his beautiful head back and breathed through his mouth still clogged with the butt plug. Jolts of a kind of tickling electric shock seemed to spread through his chest, and then a burning in his nipple nubs, a raw stinging, burning sensation.
“There, these titties should stay nice and tender for a few days. Just touching them should send you through the roof. I know some boys your age who cannot ever wear shirts because their nipples are too raw. Isn’t that cool?”
Terry moved the sandpaper down to Bobby’s prick.
“Let’s do the same thing to that big beautiful dickhead of yours. My, my, you certainly do have a wonderful cock for twelve. If you hadn’t been sent to Lakeland, you’d probably be fucking everything in sight by now. Twelve-year-old boys are generally pretty fucking dirty, you know. Their minds are in their dicks. They’re always playing with their cocks, in the classroom, in the home, even in church.
“Just last week I saw a boy of thirteen or fourteen in church rubbing his dirty dripping dick through his best Sunday trousers right there in church. He just couldn’t keep his hands off of himself. I followed him into the men’s room of the church. The little fucker had gone in there to whack off. Well, I broke open the stall door and caught him sitting on the toilet with his pants down, stroking his pink little boy dick. It wasn’t like yours, Bobby. It was only about five inches long and really soft and pink. He looked up at me, terrified. I told him I was going to tell everyone what he was doing right in front of the minister and the whole congregation.
“Well, he broke down sobbing and begged me not to. I made a deal with him. I would keep my mouth shut if he put his mouth around my big dripping dick, so he had to suck me off right there in the church. It was a lousy blowjob. He wasn’t trained like you Lakeland boys are. He didn’t know how to tongue the pisshole or anything, but it was still lots of fun. After I shot off in his sputtering mouth, I took the toilet paper off the wooden roll spindle and shoved the makeshift dildo up his tender virgin boy ass. Then I shoved his head in the toilet and pissed all over it. Then I took off his tie and tied his hands behind his back, and then I used his shoelaces to tie his balls so tightly I thought they would explode. I shoved his underpants into his mouth, and then dumped his whole body upside down into the trashcan, with his stuffed bare ass and legs sticking out. I don’t think I’ll go back to that church again.”
Terry was now sandpapering Bobby’s dickhead with short hard strokes. The cockhead was already red and raw looking. Yet it was hard and throbbing, close to orgasm. The boy twisted and turned on the table, bringing his smooth boy legs up toward his swollen belly. Terry had to slap him hard in the balls to keep him still.
“Come on now, be a good boy lie still. Keep those legs spread like a fucking cunt on display.”
Terry reached one hand down to feel Bobby’s asshole.
“I don’t want to feel a single drop of shit water.”
He patted Bobby’s tummy and the boy groaned, spittle running from his mouth. His breathing was heavy and thick, like a pig grunting. His eyes rolled back in his head. Terry went back to sandpapering the dickhead. He was satisfied when the cockhead was so raw that even a finger brushing it sent Bobby into spasms.
Terry seemed pleased, and if Terry was pleased, well, that was all that mattered. Terrence put down the sandpaper and picked up a cue tip.
“Now we’ll sensitize the inside of your pisshole to give you more pleasure when you piss and fuck. I want you to fully enjoy your dick potential.”
He held up the cue tip so Bobby could see.
“You see, Lakeland has these Q-tips specially made. They contain an abrasive material mixed in with the cotton tip, like cotton and sandpaper together.”
Terry laughed at the boy’s agonized look. Then he lifted Bobby’s prick. The boy levitated when the fingers rubbed the sore dickhead. Terry held the cock head up straight, then squeezed the boy’s dickhead, so the piss lips opened. He inserted the Q-tip and twirled it.
Bobby thought he would lose his mind from the sensation. It was like when the tickling on your feet is so bad it turns to pain, only a thousand times worse, a burning, itching, scraping feeling. Terry shoved about an inch of Q-tip in and twirled some more.
“Yeah,” he whispered, “get the whole inside of your dick nice and sensitive. What a lucky boy you are. Just think, if you had never met me, you might never have realized that you can get pleasure from the inside of your cock too.”
He leaned down and sucked the snot from Bobby’s nose. Bobby’s fingernails were leaving long scratch marks on the wooden table. His feet were so twisted from the pain that he looked crippled. Terry licked the tears from Bobby’s eyes and relished the subtle, salty taste.
“Oh, you beautiful piece of fuck cunt, you,” Terry moaned, slipping out of his silk robe.
He climbed up on the table and sat on Bobby’s swollen stomach. The boy gagged into the buttplug. Terry sat on the boy and beat his own bloated dick. He frigged his drooling cock, reaching back to jam the Q-tip further into the boy’s piss slit. Bobby’s eyes rolled back, showing only white now, and it really turned Terry on. He felt an imminent orgasm. He put his swollen dick head up close to Bobby’s face and pumped harder.
“Oooh…fuck…here it comes,” he shouted.
Then he made sure his dickhead was right up against Bobby’s nose. He shot his load of fucksnot up the boy’s nostrils. Cum shot up into Bobby’s nasal passages and dripped down into his mouth. Pain coursed through Bobby’s sinuses. He couldn’t breathe through the clogged sinus choked with thick fuck sauce. Terry held Bobby’s eyes open and shot fuck right in the boy’s eyes. Bobby’s vision was temporarily cloudy with dick sperm. Drained for the moment, Terrence Archer climbed off.
Terry had one of the trustees on duty lick his dick clean. The eighteen-year-old hunk licked and sucked the thick prick until it was relaxed and no longer leaking. Then, Terry had the kid lick his armpits too and his sweaty ass crack for good measure before he relaxed with a glass of wine while he watched Bobby writhe on the table bloated and bursting with soapy enema water. The boy had been holding the water for a half-hour now. Every now and then Terry checked the table surface to make sure not even a drop had escaped the darling asshole. Every now and then the boy would screw up his cute face in pain and Terry could tell he was having another convulsion. It was time to move on to other things.
Terry removed the boy’s dildo from the boy’s mouth. Bobby gulped air through his open mouth, like a fish out of water. Then Terry, none too gently, ripped the Q-tip from the boy’s dick slit. Bobby screamed bloody murder and Terry had a good laugh. Then Terry produced a five-foot length of thick hose. He inserted one end of the tube into Bobby’s mouth, and the other end, he roughly fucked into Bobby’s asshole. The boy immediately began to shit out the enema water. Much to Bobby’s dismay, it ran through the tube and back into his own mouth. Terry pushed on Bobby’s tummy and shit water shot through the hose and into the kid’s mouth. The poor twelve-year-old boy never imagined such horrors existed in the world as he shit and gulped at the same time. To make matters worse, he began to piss.
The piss in his urethra caused a burning pain, unlike anything he had ever felt. His slender young body threw itself every which way on the table, and Terry got hard again. The boy was shitting and swallowing continually now as the soapy water recycled itself over and over again. Piss sprayed up and landed on his stomach, chest, and face. Terry tried to catch some of the boy piss in his mouth, laughing and pushing on the boy’s tummy.
A fucking naked boy, what could be better than a slender, smooth young colt in the throes of agony? The soft pale pink boy flesh grew red with exertion, gulping for breath, eating shit and soap and his own puke, his prick pissing uncontrollably. Terry slapped the boy’s ballbag and tugged on his sensitized titties. The kid bucked some more. Once, he spit the hose out of his mouth, so Terry jammed it way down his throat. He held the pain-wracked sweating boy body in his arms and squeezed. The kid gagged and swallowed more waste. Then with one more spastic jerk, Bobby mercifully passed out. Terry sighed. He would have to wait at least half an hour before he could begin the next test on the boy.
Two Puerto-Rican twins were brought in. They were sixteen and stunning, in a dark, smokey dangerous way. Two lean, tight-muscled boys, who had grown up in the city, played stickball and splashed in the shower of a broken hydrant in summer. Two dark-eyed, smooth-skinned, beauties who had designed their own tattoos at twelve and inked them into each other with penknives. Two rough boys who had fucked their little sister until she became pregnant, and thus were sent to Lakeland to be straightened out or done away with.
At Lakeland, the Mendoza brothers had learned that they were not rough and tough street thugs and gang leaders at all, but really pussy boys with ass-cunts wanting to be fucked by every man they met. When they learned that they were born to crawl and lick and suck and slobber, their behavior improved drastically.
They stood naked before Terrence Archer. They were short about five foot six, wide-shouldered, firm but not too developed pecs with well-worked sow nipples, flat tummies with muscles showing, smooth brown skin, only a two-inch trimmed bush above big uncut thick-skinned dicks and heavy Puerto-Rican balls. Their defense to the judge had been that they could not help themselves, that their dicks just had to fuck all the time. And it was true. It seems these two sixteen-year-old boys had been born to fuck. Terrence smiled at them.
“Up on the table, boys. Bobby here has been doing really well in his testing program. He’s passed the first few tests wonderfully, but he’s really worn out now, and he hasn’t eaten all day, so it’s time to give him some lunch.”
With a beaten submissive look in their dark Latino eyes that hadn’t been there before Lakeland, the brothers climbed up on the dining room table. They lay on their backs and brought their strong, smooth legs up to their chests where they held them with their arms. This put their musky, dark, thickly rimmed assholes on display. The skin of their rectums was corrugated from stretching, and it formed a tight-ridged circle around the dark asshole entrance. The ass lips were just a shade lighter than the rest of the boys’ skin. It was a wonderfully hot sight.
“Bobby…Bobby, honey,” Terry urged.
Bobby, who had fallen into deep, pain-filled escapist sleep, slowly stirred. He groaned and rolled over on the floor, his pale, smooth body red here and there from slaps and blows, his nipples pouty and relaxed but still protruding from his twelve-year-old chest like pig tits, his boy prick, with its red dick head, lazily flopped over on one cute young thigh.
“Bobby, honey, it’s time for some lunch. Come on, baby, you need your strength for the rest of the tests. These have been the easy ones so far.”
Bobby slowly recovered consciousness. He fought against it. He wanted to stay in the safe, warm womb of sleep, but harsh reality intruded once again. Terry flicked the boy’s rubbery, sandpapered nipples, and Bobby jerked on the floor. Then sat up, running a hand through hair that somewhere along the line had gotten slicked back with cum. It was a cute style on the young boy, a cum-slick hairdo.
“You must be starving, Bobby, honey, and your throat must be parched, so I’ve had a little lunch prepared specially for you. Come on, stand up. You can do it…oops…be careful, your balance seems shot to hell, understandable considering the strain you’ve been under. But I want you to know you are doing really well in these tests and I’m very proud of you. Now help yourself to some lunch.”
Bobby looked at the table, and all he saw were two identical Latino boys lying on their backs with their legs up and their assholes showing.
“Lunch?” the boy asked in a voice reduced to a whisper from his oral activities.
“These beautiful spic boys are here for your pleasure. The one on the left has ground beef, tomatoes and cheese shoved up his ass-pussy. I hope you like Mexican food. And his equally hunky brother has orange juice. I want you to enjoy your lunch directly from their assholes. Go ahead, enjoy.”
Bobby looked at the two naked teenagers on the table. He saw their big balls and their massive thick-skinned uncut pricks, and their tight round assholes. He had not eaten in twenty-four hours, not real food anyway, and his throat was so dry it burned. He hated himself, hated what he had been reduced to, but he put his mouth between the legs of the boy on the right. He placed his pouty pink twelve-year-old lips on the thick ass ring. The boy quivered slightly but kept his legs up and wide. Bobby fastened his lips to the teenage asshole and sucked. Nothing, so he placed his tongue at the asshole itself and pushed, a little orange juice squirted into his mouth. Bobby relished the taste, the wet, the soothing liquid. He pushed his tongue again and sucked. His mouth was filled with orange juice. The Puerto-Rican teen groaned, and his stomach rumbled, and he farted. A splash of juice shot over Bobby’s face. Bobby was so thirsty he did not want to lose any of it. He licked the dripping orange juice and ass slime off the ass crack and hole. Then he plunged his smooth young face between the ass cheeks of the second boy and sucked out some ground beef and cheese. He chewed the food hungrily then moved back to the other ass for some more juice.
Terrence Archer stood looking on and frigging his dripping prick. It was amazing how a healthy normal twelve-year-old boy could be turned into an animal so quickly and easily. Bobby would now do anything to survive, to minimize pain, to protect himself. Terrence walked closer and let his dick drip pre-fuck onto one of the Puerto-Rican boy’s asshole. Bobby did not even flinch. He licked it right up along with his meal. Both Puerto-Rican brothers were hard now. Their big juicing thick-skinned fuck sticks waving in the air. Their foreskins were partly drawn back over the wet red piss heads of the dicks and fuck slime gathered in the folds of dick skin.
“Time for dessert, Bobby, guacamole delight.”
Terry clapped his hands, and a trustee brought in another boy. This one was a nine-year-old, blond, Scandinavian boy. He had ashen skin and a very lanky, small body. His nipples were pink and flat on his chest, not yet worked on. His dick was short and stubby but very cute. His ass, like Bobby’s, was a prizewinner and it’s what had gotten him sent to Lakeland. Burke had fucked his ass for the first time earlier that day, and the boy walked with a stiff and pained gait. He had never known such pain, such humiliation. He was the son of a minister who had been killed along with his wife in a car accident, and the boy had ended up at Lakeland. One of his delicate, slender hands held his ass as if it might leak. The other now and again tried to cover his balls and dick only to jerk away as he remembered the punishment for covering his prick at any time. His eyes were wide with confusion.
“This is Lars. Lars has been given a guacamole enema, Bobby, just for your pleasure, but we will get it most uniquely. Our two Puerto-Rican friends will fuck Lars in his guacamole stuffed ass, and you will get to lick the avocado off their cunt fucking dicks. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”
It took some doing. Lars was crying heavily when the first big, fat, dripping, uncut schlong fucked its way into his tender violated ass-pussy, which caused him to wail something fierce. For the Puerto-Rican brothers getting a chance to fuck now and then was the only reprieve in the hellhole of Lakeland, so they lived for such moments. The first brother slammed his dick in hard, shoving his balls deep on the first plunge.
“Oh…fuck,” he groaned.
He slammed into the boy’s cunt sending his fat prick in all the way, his balls slapping on the down fuck. His brother had crawled around and was holding the blond nine-year-old and now and again slapping his young smooth frightened face. The boy sobbed, and the Puerto-Rican holding his head forced the boy’s face into his crotch, mixing tears with leaking pre-fuck from his spic dick. Bobby was ordered to scramble down beneath the fucked boy, just behind his penetrated near virgin pussy. The Puerto-Rican pulled out his big prick covered with a mixture of guacamole, Burke’s cum, shit slime, and a little blood, and Bobby licked the filth off the fucking dick then pulled away just as the prick slammed home again.
“Good boy, Bobby, you’re doing really well. Here he comes with more for you. Lick it all off.”
After most of the guacamole was out of the boy’s ass and both Puerto-Rican s had fucked him senseless, Terry had Bobby suck the cum from the soft battered nine-year-old ass. Bobby actually enjoyed this, as the boy’s ass-pussy was so warm and comforting. Bobby was getting used to having his cute young face buried between the cheeks of boys and men’s asses. But he could not enjoy it for long. There was work to do, more tests to pass or fail. The next involved fucking technique, and it was young Robert’s undoing.
Two huge hairy muscled men entered the room. Each was in his mid to late twenties, each had obviously worked out, as they had the bodies of muscle builders, thick slabs of muscle on well-toned skin. They also each had eleven-inch dicks, thick as beer cans, terrifying fuck weapons, standing erect and red over big bulls balls.
“These are two convicts, Bobby, from a nearby correctional institution. They’re incarcerated there for a cross-country spree of rape and torture during which twenty-two boys were molested and raped. They will be in prison for a long time to come. So I thought a little r-and-r was due them. They’re going to test your fucking skills, Robert. I want to see how well you have learned to please a man.”
Little Bobby, dazed and confused, was ordered to kneel before the first man, a sneering Polish guy with thick black hair on his head, above his prick and elsewhere on his body. Bobby was told to please the man’s prick with his mouth. First, he was told to just open his mouth wide and stick out his tongue. The convict smiled but never said a word. Bobby did not even know if the guy spoke English. He simply rested the very head of his big dick on Bobby’s tongue and let it rest there. It moved and bounced a bit but rested in the groove of Bobby’s tongue. Then the Polish stud flexed some muscles and a river of pre-cum leaked from the big piss lips and ran down the middle of Bobby’s tongue. Terry watched the stream of dick snot gently flow from the dick slit into the open little boy mouth, and he beat his own prick harder. Next, the Polish convict ran about two inches of dick over the boy’s tongue, gently fucking just the tip into the open mouth.
He loved nothing better than fucking little boy mouth. It’s what got him in trouble. He could not help it. When he saw a cute boy on the street, he just had to fuck the boy’s mouth. He truly believed that certain boys were made by God to be mouth fucked. It was their purpose on earth. He called them mouth-cunts. He would observe a gang of kids at a shopping mall, ten, twelve, and fourteen years old, just hanging around, and by looking at them, he could tell which boys were mouth-cunts. The cute ones with the kind of pouty mouths and the straight white teeth when they laughed, these were prime mouth-cunt. He felt bad for the boys, they needed to be mouth fucked and did not even know it. His thoughts made him crazy.
He grabbed Bobby by the ears and mouth fucked the fucking cunt kid as hard as he could. His big prick forced itself down the boy’s throat, and Terry rushed over and rubbed the boy’s slender, smooth neck to feel the big dick through the skin. Bobby was choking on dick and the river of pre-cum, which poured down his throat, constantly leaking like a horse or dog cock. The big smelly balls rammed against this chin. The prick stretched his mouth to the tearing point, in and out of his throat it fucked.
Bobby thought his cute button nose would be broken by the force of the hard-muscled body hitting his face as the eleven-inch pisser stuffed his gullet. Then if it was possible, the prick swelled more, and finally spewed a gusher of thick milky fuck cum into the boy’s mouth and throat. It backed up into the kid’s mouth, but Bobby knew he must not spill a drop of precious man fuck. Oh no, that would mean horrible punishment. The spooge backed up into his sinus passages and began to drip from his nose, onto the fucker’s pubic bush. The convict’s hips bucked into Bobby’s face, six, seven, eight shots of dick juice drowning the poor boy.
He truly had become a cumdump, a mouth slut, a fucked-up boy with a pussy instead of a face. In moments like these, when his training began to take its toll, he began to think of his face like a pussy. That was not a mouth he had. It was a cunt, a twat. Real boys, ordinary boys, did not have twats on their faces, but he did—a big twat right where his mouth should be.
‘Oh, God, why did you give me a pussy instead of a mouth?’ he wondered as the long fat dick slopped its way out of the face-cunt.
Next, his ass was to be fucked as it had never been fucked before and it was this ass fucking that would undo poor young Bobby, it was this ass fucking that would cause the wrath of Terry Archer and ultimately get the twelve-year-old boy sent to The Pit.
Bobby just was not up to taking two jelly jar thick dicks up his boy ass at the same time. Such a pity too as he was doing so well. He was well on his way from being a useless twelve-year-old childish, innocent, normal American boy to becoming a fucked up boy cunt slut of a dick depository, and now he had to go and ruin it. Let’s face it, men need dick holes to unload and what finer dick hole than a smooth-skinned, pale shimmering baby-faced twelve-year-old pussy boy?
It was not that Bobby did not try. Oh, he tried to comply, tried to please Terry Archer, tried to pass his tests so as to be taken far away from the horrors of Lakeland Academy for Boys, but the two enormous throbbing fleshy pricks, held together to form one gigantic battering ram of dick, as the two men sat facing each other with one’s legs over the others, was just too fucking much for the boy’s already stretched and raw asshole.
He had been ordered to squat over the monster pricks his asshole poised over the double dickheads. His lean, hairless boy body shook with strain and exhaustion. He had already suffered much at the cruel hands of the senator’s son. Tiny drops of crystal boy sweat clung to the boy’s cute pug nose and dampened his armpits. His balls too dripped sweat. His body felt warm and clammy. He could barely speak, barely breathe, the inside of his mouth was so coated with deposits of thick slimy cum. Bobby’s eyes only half focused on his surroundings, his mind was so boggled and his body so abused that his fucked out mouth hung open slightly, and cum and spit drooled down his chin. He was a fucking mess, like an exquisite instrument whose strings had been snapped.
“Now, Bobby, you can open your asshole better than that. We don’t want to have to get out an ass stretcher, do we?”
Young, good-looking Terry Archer was directing the activities.
“Now use your hands to spread those boy ass cheeks more. Get that fuckhole right over those beautiful uncut Eastern European pricks. Keep those dicks steady, boys. Now, Bobby, rub the dickheads over your asshole, as that’s the only lubrication you get. Now sit down on the dicks, get those big fucking prick heads into your cunt. Come on, Bobby, move that cunt, show me what it’s for. Get those twat lips around those cockheads.”
It was not as if the twelve-year-old boy had not been properly fist fucked. The trustees had seen to that, but the angle of the two cocks, jutting up from the two groins gave the combined dick a pyramid shape, the dick roots slanted away from where they were forced together at their heads. The thick-skinned, veiny dicks were slippery with fuck need. The prick owners spoke little English, and they chortled and guffawed like idiots. They enjoyed few things in life as much as seeing their fat cunt busters penetrate the ass of a little boy. Bare boy ass was so perfect, so innocent, so meek and pale and gentle that something about shoving a dick into that temple of youthful flesh really turned these guys one. Hell, the ancients understood this. They had wives, mistresses, but for real ultimate pleasure, they loved to violate boy ass. The Chinese were experts at boy-ass fucking for thousands of years.
“Come on, Bobby, don’t disappoint me. Get your cunt open, sit on those dicks.”
Bobby cried and tried, tried and cried, his ass lips stretched, his pink pucker was now a slopped up fuck tunnel, as a boy’s hole should be by twelve. Bobby pushed down as hard as he could. He felt his ass lips strain to the tearing point. Then the double dick heads popped inside his anal ring. Bobby grunted, and one large tear trailed its way down his cheek. His hands, prying his young ass cheeks open, shook from the effort, and the dickheads lodged up his asshole pulsed and leaked pre-fuck. Bobby began his squat, his long descent into hell. The pain grew unbearable. Still, he pushed, four, five, six inches of double dick up his twat. Bobby knew his boy-cunt would never be the same again. He hoped it wouldn’t be too stretched out for Carlos, not that there was much chance he would ever see his lover again. Carlos had been denigrated to a different kind of hell, real hell—The Pit.
“Come on, you worthless pussy, you’re not putting any effort into it. I want you sitting on those dicks, balls against your ass-cunt. You know you want it. You know your slutty whore twat wants it. Now push goddamn it!”
Bobby now had eight inches of the double dicks in him, but his rectum just could not take any more. The angle made it impossible. His pussy was already opened wide enough to deliver a baby. The pain was blinding, maddening. The poor boy tried he really did. He just was not well trained enough.
“I can’t take anymore cock. I just can’t…I’m sorry…oh…god…it hurts!”
“Shit! I’ve seen ten-year-olds take more dick.”
Bobby doubted it, but one did not argue with Terry Archer.
“If you can’t take this dick, how will you ever take horse cock?”
Bobby heard that statement someplace in the back of his pain blocked mind. He heard it, but it did not quite register. He would not let it register. Nobody could be that sick. Nobody could want that as a future for the twelve-year-old boy.
Terry Archer walked over to the fucking trio. His own fat pisser was spurting pre-fuck. He slapped Bobby’s face with his dick. Again and again, the thick prick whacked the boy’s delicate pale face leaving trails of fuck slime and red marks. Bobby opened his mouth, extended his soft lips and swollen tongue toward the wet prick, trying to catch it in his mouth, hoping that a good suck might calm Terry Archer. Bobby’s sweat-slick black hair was plastered to his forehead and filled with tiny globs of pre-fuck; fuck slime trailed down the boy’s smooth face and coated his lips. His baby boy lips opened and closed as he tried to capture dick in his mouth. The slippery piss lips slid across his cheek, nose, and face. Terry Archer laughed and spurted a little fuck sauce up one of Bobby’s nose holes. Terry placed his hands on Bobby’s thin shoulders and pushed.
“Will you sit on the fucking dick, you whore cunt, you…”
He pushed down as hard as he could, and three more inches of prick slid into the boy’s tortured ass-pussy. Bobby screamed, he saw red, and his mind snapped for just a minute. He snapped his teeth over the waving dickhead of the senator’s son and bit down hard. Terry Archer felt the boy’s teeth sink deep into the cockhead. He felt just some of the pain he had inflicted on young boys for years, returned to the pain giver. He could not believe what was happening. The young twelve-year-old cunt was biting off his dick!
Burke was in his office when the alarm sounded. That was quite an event at Lakeland. The alarm bell seldom sounded. The last time had been when a seventeen-year-old boy had leaped through the stained glass window of Jesus in the school chapel. It spoiled the school priest’s whole activity of crucifying the kid on a life-size cross hanging over the altar. He had wanted so to see the utterly adorable seventeen-year-old with the piercing blue eyes hanging up there bare dick naked for the Thursday evening Bible study class, and now he would have to settle for his second choice. The boys leap for freedom had caused quite a stir around the school, and for days after the other boys were less cooperative.
Burke was in his office when he heard the alarm. He was teaching Tyler to dance. The slender chocolate-skinned boy was on tiptoes. A wire tied around his dickhead and stretched through a hook in the ceiling and back down again to Burke’s hand. Burke jerked the wire, and Tyler danced. His toes cramping and aching as he was forced to stay almost on point or get his dick ripped off.
“Come on, one two three, one two three. You’re never going to make a ballet dancer, Tyler. Tyler groaned and arched his hips forward. His hands were tied behind his back and the wire bit into his big black dick. The pain was so great that he no longer minded the ten-inch black dildo shoved up his ass. Burke had made the boy fuck himself for twenty minutes to warm up his body for dancing class. The black boy’s feet were strong and large, but his body was breaking under the strain of the abuse. Burke noticed the blunt end of the black rubber cock peeking out from the boy’s tight dimpled ass.
“Don’t lose that dildo, Tyler. If your cunt is so sloppy that you can’t hold a ten incher, we’ll have to go to twelve.”
Tyler groaned and danced.
“Kick up one leg, nice and high.”
Tyler tried and lost balance, and, for a moment, he was held vertical by only his stretched prick. He howled but regained his balance. Burke laughed.
“Almost did a horizontal prick spin there, boy. A bit advanced for you, don’t you think?”
Burke sat comfortably in his chair, tugging on the wire. His own dick was firmly embedded in the mouth of a fifteen-year-old blond kid between his legs. The boy was one of the best cocksuckers at Lakeland. He knew how to massage the dick skin with his lips while his tongue fluttered over the pisshole, and his mouth sucked on the cock stalk. He was so popular that he sucked about thirty cocks a day.
“What the fuck is that?” Burke shouted, knowing all too well.
He jumped to his feet, allowing his drooling dick to slip from between the blond boy’s lips. He let go of the wire, and Tyler slumped to the floor, almost unconscious. A few seconds later, just as Burke was zipping up, the door opened, and a trustee stuck his head in.
“That new kid Bobby just bit Mr. Archer’s prick pretty badly.”
“Oh, Christ, no!”
Burke was out the door and down the hall, still closing his pants. This could spell real trouble for the school. Not only was Terry Archer’s donation to the school considerable, but he could also cause a real problem. Shit, he could close the fucking school if he wanted to. One word from the crazy kid and all hell would break loose. Another door opened, and the Governor stepped out.
“What is it, Burke?” he shouted.
He wore no pants, and his dick was red and raw looking. Behind him two fourteen-year-old boys were busy fucking each other, rutting like dogs one behind the other and barking.
“Bobby almost bit Terry Archer’s dick off or something.”
Now both men hurried toward the elevator. They were joined by Dr. Trotter.
“What a time to be disturbed. I was just conducting an experiment on the nutritional values of human snot. Think if we could feed our boys on snot, we would save tons of money.”
“Cut the crap, Trotter, I don’t have time for your shit now.” Burke snapped.
“Alas, you never have time for my shit,” Trotter pouted.
Terry Archer was lying on a couch holding a towel to his bleeding groin. The two convict fuckers were standing in a corner limp-dicked. Bobby was also standing in a corner, terror on his pale, delicate face. His hands covered his own genitals as if protecting them. Cum dripped from his asshole and ran down his legs.
“What happened?” Burke barked.
“The kid bit his dick,” one of the trustees shouted, loving the excitement and secretly loving the senator’s son’s predicament.
Terry Archer moaned and yelped as Doc Trotter examined him.
“Well, it needs stitches, but it’s not bitten off. I always suggested pulling the teeth of the cocksucker boys, but you wouldn’t listen. It ruins the shape of the boy’s face, you said. Give the cunts false teeth I said. I even offered to extract the teeth myself, but no—”
“Shut the fuck up, Trotter…” Burke snapped.
Burke grabbed Bobby by the neck.
“How dare you bite a cock!”
He slapped the boy hard several times. The boy’s head flew back and forth with the force of the blows.
“I want him in The Pit,” Archer screamed. “I want that boy sent to The Pit tonight!”
“Bobby is a prime boy cunt, young and trainable. Why waste his life by sending him down there.”
“He goes in The Pit tonight, or tomorrow morning you don’t have a school.”
Burke was so disgusted that he backhanded Bobby who thudded into the carpet, unconscious from the blow.
A few hours later, matters had not gotten any better. The kids in the school had somehow heard of the incident, and Bobby had become a hero to them. They rebelled against their dorm captains and chanted, “Bobby…Bobby…Bobby…Bobby,” long into the night. Burke could not even fuck the kid in his bed. He flung the seven-year-old Thai boy onto the floor. Bobby would have to be sent to The Pit. There was no way around it. The boys needed an object lesson. As for Terrence Archer, something had to be done about him too.
Terry Archer was whipping the ass of a sixteen-year-old Latino boy. If Burke had not stepped into the room, he would have whipped the boy’s ass to ribbons. The kid had bit his own lower lip and blood dripped down onto his chest. Terry was dressed, and his bandaged dick throbbed. He took out his anger on the naked Latino hanging from the ceiling. Terry walked up to the sweating, crying kid and grabbed a handful of the boy’s balls. He swung the boy, using his nuts as a handle and brought the riding crop down onto the teenager’s rippled muscular tummy. He held the boy’s dick and fucked his little finger in and out of the fat pisshole. The Latino sobbed and prayed for mercy.
“Feeling better are we?” Burke asked.
“Fucking not! Is that cunt in The Pit yet? I won’t go until I see it.”
“You know, Terry, we always warn you to be careful with the boys, especially the inexperienced ones. We warned you over and over.”
Terry slammed his fist right into the kid’s scrotum. The hanging brown body arched and bucked as it swung. Terry grabbed a boy nipple in each hand and twisted.
“I don’t give a fuck! If you want to keep your fucking job, something’s got to be done.”
“Oh, something will be done all right.”
Burke reached into his jacket pocket and withdrew a Beretta. The lightweight, nine-millimeter automatic was easy to handle. He raised it and shot Terry Archer in the head. The senator’s son slumped to the floor, and the naked Latino swung silently above him. Burke called the Governor to come down.
“What is it now?” the governor grumbled, once again interrupted mid-fuck. “Can’t a man even get some boy-pussy in peace?”
He looked down at the dead body.
“Holy Christ, what have you done?”
“House cleaning. His body will be dumped in the next state behind that white supremacist church. I want you to frame a white high school kid for the killing. Get the kid’s prints on this gun and shove some of the kid’s pubic hair up Archer’s asshole, so the DNA proves the kid fucked him. It needs to be done tonight.”
“I’ll have some of my boys take care of it.”
The Governor looked at the suspended naked Latino teen.
“Something Archer was working on.”
“Do you mind if I take over. Can’t leave any loose ends, can we?”
“Be my guest.”
While the Governor busied himself fist fucking the crying Latino boy, Burke went to the phone.
“Hello…Jeff, it’s Burke. Listen, the little fuckers have turned Bobby into a hero. They need a lesson. It’s a real shame, I know, but the boy will have to be sent to The Pit. Do it tonight!”
Fucking goddamn it, Burke grabbed his crotch, just the thought of beautiful young smooth Bobby being sent to The Pit had caused Burke to shoot off in his pants uncontrollably. That had not happened in years. What was it about that fucking kid? Well, whatever it was, it was not long for this world!
Burke felt the cum slop run down over his balls and into his ass crack. He would have to get some kid to lick him clean. Well, the worst had been averted and now that things had settled down. The Latino boy’s screams sounded less like noise and more like music. The kind of music Burke loved best.
Bobby entered The Pit! It was not what he expected. The first thing to hit him was the smell, the unbearable stench, choking, stifling aroma, so horrible one had to breathe through the mouth to avoid passing out. The smell hung thick in the air. It had a presence and weight of its own. Police are informed that the smell of a decomposing body at a crime scene will eventually disappear or seem to after the body adjusts to it. They are advised against holding their noses as it just takes longer to adjust, but Bobby could not bear to breathe through his cute, sensitive young nose.
He was allowed to walk into The Pit by himself, over the raised doorstep into the large bare room. The room was well lit, that was his second surprise. There were unlit alcoves and rooms off this main one, but this section had white walls, three white walls. The fourth wall was a Plexiglas window. On the other side, well-to-do visitors to the school could relax and watch the degenerate sickness of The Pit while they dined on gourmet food and sucked boy dick.
The boys in The Pit could not actually see the features of the people on the other side, but they could sense they were being watched. And what a show it was. You see, The Pit was where all the sewage from the Academy above was dumped. Huge waste chutes in the ceiling dumped shit and garbage right down on the boys. The floor of The Pit was ankle-deep shit. And the naked boys had to live in it and sit in it and sleep in it. Most boys could only take The Pit for a few minutes, hours at most, so the boys sentenced to live there quickly went mad. They burbled and talked to themselves, crawled around through the shit to look for food that might have been dumped with the garbage. When they were fed, it was through the same chutes in the ceiling. The food was dropped right into the shit, and the boys had to root for it and fight over it.
In The Pit, the boys lived like wild animals. They formed tribes to attack each other, and the result of these skirmishes was often fatal. Here and there, boys in The Pit fucked like animals too. Bobby saw one boy humping another right down in the shit. The older boy, about eighteen, fucked his big dick into the ass of the younger boy, shoving his smooth young face into the shit on the floor. There was no pleasure in the fuck. It was merely the demented need to shoot a load in the primitive surroundings. Some of the boys bore handmade tattoos on their young, thin bodies. These were trophies of survival. They had conquered The Pit and now lived there the rulers of this hell. Sometimes the lights went out, and then the boys screamed and wailed in terror. Horrible things like snakes and rats were let loose, and the boys had to battle for their meager befouled terrain.
And beyond the window, well-dressed guests sipped the finest champagne and received blowjobs from well-groomed angel-faced youths, all pink and scrubbed. Fingers toyed with spic and span assholes and drilled deep into, way down deep inside the stretched, pink and fresh just the way little boy ass-pussy should be, boy-cunts. Naked teens served snacks on silver trays and got there dicks yanked and their balls twisted as they smiled, straining to show no pain. Some used bare boy bodies as furniture, sitting on a slender teenage back, utilizing an ass crack to hold a cigarette or a pretzel stick. Perversion reigned supreme. But the bare-assed little tykes would willingly submit to any humiliation rather than be exposed to what lay beyond the Plexiglas wall.
“You’d better suck my ass better than that, you fucking bitch boy, or you’ll be in The Pit,” a guest would warn, and the fair-haired, smooth-faced little fella would willingly suck the shithole with lips as his baby tongue fucked the ass channel.
Two guests were having an animated discussion while sitting on two boy faces.
“It’s ridiculous to assume that younger boys can’t suck asshole as well as older lads,” said one. “Young boys still have the natural sucking instincts from sucking mommy’s tit. You just replace the nipple with an asshole and the boy will suck naturally.”
“Yes, my dear Mr. Loeffler, but you have to admit that the boy must be old enough for the act to totally repulse him. Otherwise, it’s no fun. That takes some awakening of sexual instinct the boy must totally realize how disgusting it is for him to have to suck on a man’s asshole. Maybe the poor boy even had a girlfriend. So lips that have innocently kissed his young girlfriend’s lips now have to suck ass lips.”
The man laughed and ground his massive buttocks harder against the fifteen-year-old face beneath him.
“I’m afraid that I prefer them pre-dating age. I see your point, but the flush of innocence, the pale complexion and smooth, soft skin of a young boy and the realization that he has to put his mouth on a man’s poop hole, is so delightful to me. I’ll forgo sexual embarrassment on his part.”
Thus they chatted on. On the other side of the window, Bobby looked at the living hell to which he had been condemned. To his right, out of the mire, a form rose, a boy of about fourteen, covered in shit, some of it dried, some still wet and running. His eyes red, his mouth hanging slack and drooling, his young chest heaving and his tummy fluttering, his boy dick rearing up into a raging erection, he approached Bobby.
“Open your ass for me, cunt,” the boy growled, frigging his dick.
“My name is Bobby” His speech was cut off by a shit-caked hand covering his mouth. He was flung onto his back, splashing in the foul waste. A boy of sixteen held him down. Kneeling on his chest, the boy’s fat dick was rubbing over Bobby’s face, while the fourteen-year-old animal boy with shit designs painted on his body and his dick slapping his belly, crawled between Bobby’s legs. He forced the boy’s legs apart and lifted them. More hands appeared to grab his ankles. The fourteen-year-old forced his prick between Bobby’s ass cheeks. He had not even been in The Pit a minute yet, and already he was being gang fucked.
“Oh, look, they’re fucking a new boy,” a jaded guest remarked shoving his own swollen prick into the mouth of a sucking boy between his legs.
“He looks very much like my son,” another middle-aged man remarked, drilling three fingers into the ass of a grunting kid.
Bobby felt the teen prick violate his asshole. It was a rough fuck, but not as brutal as what he had received in the penthouse. It was the disgusting shit that squished all around him that disturbed him. Not only the smell but also the feel, it got everywhere. He was fucked by one after another, by the seventh he lost track. He cried at first, especially when he was turned over and his face was forced into the shit on the floor. The chutes above opened and shit and piss rained down on the fucking boys.
After the tenth boy, Bobby lost track of time. His mind wandered to his family and his friends, to his school and his room with his collections and his hobbies and eventually to Carlos. As soon as the fucking stopped, if it ever stopped, Bobby would try to find Carlos. He prayed the hunky Latino was still alive.
The fucking did stop. One older boy claimed Bobby for his own personal fuck boy and the others who were afraid of the eighteen-year-old backed off. This kid had shit-slicked hair and deep blue eyes. He looked like some strange aboriginal hybrid. His well-toned teenage body painted with warrior decoration. His dick was nine inches hard and hung hefty even soft over big balls.
“My name is Bullcock, and you belong to me,” he shouted at Bobby in a crazed manner. “When I want to fuck you, you spread. When I want a suck from you, you open your mouth-cunt. You’re my cunt. You understand that, bitch?”
He grabbed Bobby’s nipples and pulled, and Bobby was lifted up by his titties. He screamed in pain, and beyond the window, several men laughed and tried that trick with their own little bitch boys.
“If you obey me and you’re a good little twat, only me and my ten friends will fuck you. If you’re a shitter, you will be thrown into one of the dark places where you will be fucked constantly by twenty-five or thirty of the demented ones. Fucked to death perhaps, or driven mad yourself. Don’t go near the dark places. I’ll call you when its lunchtime. I share my food with my cunts.”
Bullcock threw Bobby down into the slop.
The other boys seemed to respect Bullcock, so Bobby was treated with a certain amount of respect as well. Bullcock called him over later to inspect him thoroughly. There were some water spigots along one wall, and the boys used these to drink out of and to wash away some of the accumulated shit. They scrubbed Bobby as best they could so Bullcock could see his new cunt toy. Bullcock was pleased. He shoved a finger up Bobby’s asshole, then two, then three, then four. He felt the boy’s balls and jerked his prick. He sucked on the boy’s pouty nipples. Twelve-year-old Bobby stood passively while the other boys played with his abused body. Anything was better than getting fucked again. His ass felt distorted and deformed. It ached from the fuckings, cum ran down his legs and mixed with the shit on the floor. How could this have happened to one young boy’s life? Eighteen-year-old Bullcock made Bobby kneel before him, and then to claim his property, he inserted the head of his big teen prick into Bobby’s mouth and cut loose with a stream of piss. While Bullcock pissed down Bobby’s throat, the members of his tribe pissed all over the boy’s body.
For lunch, Bobby was given raw vegetables that he scraped the shit off of. After lunch, he was allowed to rest. He lay with his face on Bullcock’s prick and balls and slept while his new master stroked his smooth twelve-year-old torso. When he woke, Bobby decided to pursue his plan.
“Bullcock, do you know a boy down here named Carlos. He just arrived a day or so ago.”
Bobby asked this between kisses on Bullcock’s fat dick, to calm the eighteen-year-old stud. He kissed the boy’s big dick all over, not wanting to anger him. Bullcock stroked Bobby’s hair and fed him some dickhead.
“Yeah, that son-of-a-bitch is a crazy motherfucker. He fights like a wild man, but we got him good. We threw him into that dark place over there and he ain’t been heard from since.”
Bobby twisted his head so he could see the dark place and still suck Bullcock’s thickening prick at the same time. The dark place was a corridor off the main room, but there were no lights, hence the name.
Bobby had eight inches of shitty dick in his mouth now, so for the moment, he could not ask any more questions. He sucked out the boy’s dick scum and then licked the prick clean. It would only stay clean a few seconds, for when Bullcock shifted positions, sewer slop from the floor once again splashed up over his body. Bobby groaned as fresh shit dropped down on them. Bullcock laughed.
“Don’t try to stay clean. It’s no use, you get used to the smell and the feel and taste. You can get used to anything; you should know that. I bet when you came to Lakeland that you weren’t used to getting dick up your ass and in your mouth. Now it’s an everyday thing. How long are you here for?”
Bobby gulped back a sob.
“I think for good!”
“Then welcome to the rest of your life!”
Bullcock gestured to the big room and the boys wallowing like pigs in shit.
“What’s in the dark place?” Bobby asked, fingering Bullcock’s ball sack.
“Like I said, boys who have lost their minds. I can’t swear to it, but they say the boys in there even eat other boys to survive. I wouldn’t doubt it though. Nobody ever comes out of the dark place. Well, a few have come out, and one or two even went back upstairs, that’s our only hope down here. That someone beyond the window will think one of us is cute enough to fuck and request us upstairs. A few boys have gotten a second chance that way.”
Bullcock looked into Bobby’s eyes.
“You’re cute. Did you ever fuck a girl?”
Bobby shook his head no.
“I’m only twelve,” he said, his voice sounding terribly youthful.
“I fucked over sixty twats before I got sent here. I was a real stud, and I was only sixteen at the time. I’ve been here for two years. I’ve been down here for six months. Nobody lasts much longer than that.”
Bullcock’s own eyes drifted off, thinking about something in his previous life. Bobby knew he had to find Carlos or die trying. He would never—could never—adapt to this nightmare place. He told Bullcock he was going to walk around to stretch his legs.
“If any of my boys want a blow job, you give them a good one, you hear. The only thing we have to do down here is fuck and suck, so we do it all the time. We find some really fun, nasty ways to do it too.”
Bobby waded through the shit-filled room. He noticed that the shitty floor was deeper with crap in the middle. It thinned out near the edges of the room. Where the dark places joined the main room, there was almost no shit at all. Still, the boys avoided this area like the plague.
“Why not sit over there out of the shit?” Bobby asked one naked young kid who was sitting legs spread frigging his dick.”
“Oh, shit, you ruined it. I was just thinking about my sister. Burke conditioned me to want to fuck my own sister. Then he actually got her from someplace, and I did it too while those fuckers watched. They made me fuck my own sister pregnant. Now I think about her when I beat off, I can’t help it. It’s not my fault.”
“Why don’t you beat off over there,” Bobby asked again.
“Yeah, near the dark place, smart idea ass brain. They come out of there sometimes on attacks. They try to take over the main room, twenty or thirty of them, some with pipes they found someplace. They come out on raiding parties, looking for fresh boy cunt to capture. They torture those they capture and do worse.”
The boy’s thoughts of torture must have done something because he arched his young back and his fifteen-year-old prick spurted a nice load of spunk all over his stomach.
“Oh, fuck…oh, fuck…oh, fuck…oh, fuck,” he moaned over and over.
Bobby left the wanking boy and made his way toward the dark hallway. The white walls receded into blackness. The air was cooler in the dark place. Bobby tried to see in, but could not. Then with thoughts of Carlos and some kind of salvation in his mind, he hurled himself into the dark, dank black corridor. The boys behind him screamed, several started out in pursuit but stopped at the entrance to the dark corridor. Bobby turned back and looked into the light. He stared at the concerned wild-eyed faces of the boys glaring at him.
“Come back, you stupid cunt, do you want to be tortured to death? At least, it’s safe here. Don’t go in there. Come back before it’s too late,” the boys begged, sounding very childlike—children afraid of the dark.
Bobby turned his back to the light. He took one hesitant step into the darkness. He did not care anymore. He would find Carlos or die. For some reason, in spite of his fear, his big cock was rock hard and throbbing against his tight tummy.
“Carlos,” he yelled
His voice and body were swallowed by blackness.
The blackness surrounding Bobby was as thick as ink, a palpable darkness he could feel that was as soft as satin and suffocating. He moved blindly, his hands outstretched, his bare toes curling with each step, ready for an obstacle or a drop-off. The utter blackness caused the twelve-year-old boy to hallucinate. He saw colors, then figures, and then faces coming out of the dark, taunting him. Burke’s face laughing, Carlos’s face filled with lust, Doc Trotter’s face booze bloated and sagging with dissipation.
Then in his mind’s eye, he saw his family, but not as he wished. He saw them naked, engaged in a sinful degenerate orgy. It was a vision implanted by Lakeland Academy. In the vision, poor innocent abused Bobby saw his father fucking his mother. He watched hypnotized as his father slammed his huge thick-skinned prick into his mother’s cunt. Bobby closed his eyes, but in the blackness, the vision remained. He turned his head, and the movie in his mind followed. Bobby watched helplessly and aroused as his father fucked his mother in the cunt and mouth and ass, and he felt his twelve-year-old prick erect uncontrollably. Then in the blackness, he saw his father roll off his mother, unplug his spent prick from her pussy, still drooling cum, and he saw his own little brother crawl up and begin to lick the cunt juice and fuck sauce from the red fleshy dick.
Bobby knew this wasn’t really happening. He knew this was some nightmare caused by his traumatic last days and the insidious perversion of the school, but still, the vision seemed real. Now his little brother was climbing aboard his little sister, getting ready to shove his little boy dick in her tiny hairless pussy. Bobby put his hands to his face, but he could not block out the nightmare. He could not stop the porno film from playing in his head. Next, his father fucked Bobby’s sister, and Mom sucked little brother’s baby prick. The combinations were endless, each more horrible than the last. And Bobby’s dick leaked and throbbed. He stumbled down the darkened hallway, fearing that he was going mad. He would have cried, but he had no tears left. At twelve, he had cried a lifetime of tears.
Now, he felt the dream. Felt a warm mouth on his ball sack. Felt fingers frigging his raging prick. Felt lips on his nipples and a thumb up his rectum. The dream was so real, but no, this was not part of the dream. This was really happening. Bobby paused, standing very still, and the fingers and lips continued their work. The dream faded as Bobby surrendered to the sensation of boy lips and hands on his body. Fingers fucked in and out of his loose well-fucked boy ass. Some boy kissed his cheeks. He heard heavy breathing in the blackness.
Giggles, panting, and then his naked body was lifted and passed along the hallway. He felt like something he had seen on rock concerts on TV. While his thin young body was passed overhead, fingers continued to pluck at his dick, balls, and ass. Hands squeezed his little melon ass cheeks, massaged him into a greater sense of what in animals we call a need to fuck or be fucked! He was carried toward a light, a dim green light. Into a chamber wet with the perspiration of the earth, smelling of age and damp and boy fuck. The green light came from above, an old ceiling fixture, some kind of emergency light, casting the green light upon a raised stone platform. Bobby was placed upon the platform. He rose to his knees, his prick waving in front of him, his smooth hairless balls high in the sack. Bobby tried to see through the inky gloom. He could make out the figures of twenty or thirty naked boys.
“Stand up!” a youthful voice commanded.
Bobby stood in the green light.
“Bend over, show us your cunt!”
Bobby had been abused enough in the last week to know it was useless to resist, pointless to argue with anyone. He was meant to obey, to obey everybody, always. He turned and presented his cute small boy ass to the shadows surrounding the platform. He bent over, then reached back and spread his ass cheeks. His twelve-year-old ass-twat was indeed well fucked. The hole was large enough to shove a beer bottle in, the ass lips puffy and pink. Bobby had indeed been turned from a normal healthy twelve-year-old boy into fuckhole and cumdump.
He could hear the sound of boys beating their pricks as they looked at him. He could smell boy fuck in the dank air. He knew he was about to be fucked by all twenty boys, and something in him no longer cared. They had won. He had lost. He was nothing but a hole for dicks. A cock bitch. A cum dump. He knew now that he was a boy with a pussy, a twat, a cunt. He was not a normal boy. He was a hybrid, some kind of freak, a cunt boy. His cunt started to itch. It was not just an asshole, it was a cunt. And cunts needed cock. He needed, he wanted his father’s cock to fuck him, to make him pregnant. The center of his being was no longer his dick and balls, but his pussy!
Twenty boys had fucked him when the party was broken up. Twenty dicks—the youngest eleven, the oldest nineteen—had plowed his boy twat, had cum up his cunt channel, had been cleaned of ass slime by his willing lips when the party was busted up! Bobby was lying on his back, being double fucked in the cunt and mouth, his young, thin, smooth boy body flopping about like a rag doll. When a roar, deafening in its power and anger, froze the boys mid-fuck. A second roar followed, and the boys backed away. The two boys plugging Bobby slid their slopping dicks free of the fucked youth and scrambled off the platform.
Boys screamed and ran in every direction, slipping and falling on the wet floor, climbing over each other, dicks dripping and deflating from fear. Bobby spat a mouthful of dick snot from his mouth and turned his head. A hulking muscular form hovered in the blackness, the green light from above showing the contours of his well-muscled dark body. The figure held a club or piece of wood in his hand and looked like something out of the Stone Age. He sprang lightly to the platform and looked down at the fuck-slopped twelve-year-old.
“Bobby!” he said.
Bobby focused his eyes and shook sweat and cum from his face. He looked up. There hovering over him like an angel or demon stood Carlos. Carlos looking even more beautiful and terrible than Bobby had remembered him. The Latino’s face was dark with the growth of a few days of facial hair. His eyes looked mad. His body glistened in the green halo, and his erect, gigantic prick pulsed and drooled, spattering Bobby’s naked, writhing torso with dick drip.
“Carlos!” Bobby whined, and now fresh tears from some untapped reservoir did pour forth.
The boy’s arms reached up for his love. His fingers grasped air, trying to bring the Latino closer to him.
“Bobby, I prayed they’d send you down to me. I hoped against hope that you would join me.”
Carlos knelt astride his boy, his fat dick slobbered all over Bobby’s neck and chin. Bobby immediately tried to take the huge dickhead into his mouth. Carlos slid down to press his own lips against Bobby’s mouth. He jammed his tongue into the boy’s mouth. Both boys writhed in ecstasy, and somehow Carlos’s big prick found Bobby’s slop-dripping cunt of its own accord. The huge Latino dick slid into the twelve-year-old boy-twat. Bobby felt his cunt lips closing on the cock. It was all right now, all right to die, all right to live. It was all right, nothing mattered as long as Carlos was fucking him. Bobby felt the dick deep inside him. Carlos licked the sex slime from his lover’s face.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my pussy is so sloppy and stretched, Carlos,” Bobby moaned, feeling the prick fuck in and out and wanting it harder, deeper.
“It’s the best fucking pussy I ever had,” Carlos whispered between licks, catching cum globs up from inside Bobby’s ears and sucking up the slop. “Man, oh, man, you’ve really been fucked, haven’t you?”
“Somebody has been fucking me almost continually for days, teachers, clients, students, counselors, and then down here, but while I get fucked, I think only about you.”
“Oh my beautiful young boy pussy, you make me so happy when you say that. Ugh…feel my dick inside your guts…ugh…you may have had bigger pricks…ugh…but I’ll bet not thicker ugh…take me up your cunt…ugh…take your lover’s dick deep inside your tummy.”
Bobby wrapped his legs around Carlos’s ass and curled his toes like a fucking slut. Carlos spit all over the boy’s face and then licked it off. Bobby bit at Carlos’s lips and the older boy laughed and chewed the kid’s earlobes. He sucked on the boy’s pale flesh until red blotches appeared all over the slender, soft neck and shoulders, and still, his dick slammed into his boywhore.
“Oh, fuck, it hurts…oh fuck, it hurts…fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…fuck me ‘til I die. Oh, Christ, I love you, Carlos, I love you.”
“Ugh…ugh…and I…ugh…love…ugh…you…you fucking boy cunt…you twat…ugh…you piece of crawling fuckhole!”
Carlos wrapped one arm around Bobby’s back and lifted him. The boy hung like that in his lovers embrace, the big dick deep in his guts. He was twelve years old.
“Oh, fuck…I’m cumming…oh, fuck…take my fuck…take my wad.”
Carlos spit a massive wet gob of snot into Bobby’s face. He slammed his big bursting ball bag against the stuffed ass lips and shot off the most massive load of his life. Both boys screamed. Bobby felt his own boy dick erupt all over Carlos’s sweat-slick torso.
“FUCK!” both boys bellowed into the hollow dank basement that became their bridal chamber.
Before he was even finished shooting, Carlos yanked his prick roughly from Bobby’s pussy, the sound like a bottle of champagne being uncorked rang through the room. He slid up the kid’s thin chest and planted his prick head against the boy’s mouth.
“Suck my cum, taste your man’s fuck slop,” he growled.
Carlos ramming his fat, thick-skinned, ass-slick dick head into Bobby’s mouth. The dick was coated with layers of cum from twenty other boys as well as ass juice and Carlos’s own spunk, but it was the most delicious thing Bobby had ever tasted. He never wanted to take the big dick out of his mouth. Carlos started to fuck the boy’s face.
“Come on, bitch, swallow my prick, let it get hard again in your throat. Take your man’s dick, you fuckbitch.”
Bobby tried to swallow the salami-thick prick as if it was a rubber tube, choking him as it snaked down his throat. He could feel it in his neck. Still, Carlos fed him more cock. The boy’s slender, pale body flopped about like a broken puppet as the older husky youth rammed his Latino dick balls deep into the small tender mouth. Carlos held the kid’s ears and fucked his face. His dick that has just finished spurting grew hard again, the fuck lust causing slime to drool from the piss slit into the boy’s gullet.
“Come on, you sweet fuckwad, suck dick, show me how much you love me. Choke on my big prick. Let it get stuck in your neck. You don’t need to breathe, just breath dick, live dick. Love my dick. Worship my big fucking cock. That’s what you were born to do—worship dick. Oh, fuck, yeah…oh, fuck, yeah. Your throat is so soft and wet, just like a tight cunt. You’re a fucking cunt mouth boy…a fucking cunt mouth.”
Bobby’s mouth became a willing cunt for the fat, thick Latino pisser. Nothing mattered, only fucking, only cock. This was love!
Carlos arched his muscular brown back, he slammed the boy’s face into his pubic bush, his big dick pulsed and swelled, and spit a load of fuck into the boy’s stomach.
“Oh, I love you. I fucking love you. You are the best twat I ever had,” Carlos roared, which was quite a compliment because he had known hundreds of twats.
Carlos still was not through. As his dick grew limp and slid from the boy’s sex sloppy lips and Bobby gulped for air, Carlos twisted around and planted his muscular ass on the boy’s face.
“Suck my ass, cunt mouth. Show me how good an ass sucker you are. Prove your love for me; suck my fucking ass inside out. Eat my shithole!”
Bobby, who could barely think anymore, opened his mouth, gulping air and ass sweat in at the same time. He licked at the crack, and then the musky muscular ass cheeks closed about his face. Bobby sucked ass. He sucked his lover’s ass. He sucked the ass lips. He plunged his pink cum-coated boy tongue through the ring into the asshole. He was in heaven. He was sucking his lover’s ass. Carlos bounced on his face, jerking on his fat prick, hard once again.
“Get your whole fucking face in there. Get your twat face up my ass.”
Bobby felt his face enveloped by the asshole. He felt himself sinking into the asshole. Sweat and ass slime covered his face. He wanted to bury himself in the shithole until he could no longer breathe.
“Breathe my ass smell. Use my ass smell as air.”
With one hand, Carlos yanked his own cock, with the other, he pulled Bobby’s dick. While he rode the boy’s face like he was riding a stallion.
“I want your fucking face to smell like my ass forever, so everybody knows you are my twat, my girl, my cunt. Oh, yeah…eat my ass…eat it out.”
Both boys shot off again. Carlos farting wet farts onto his lover’s face as he came. Then the two boys, one just now a man, the other still a little boy, wrapped their bodies around each other, and cried, licking tears, licking snot, licking sweat, licking spilled sex seed. Bobby sucked on Carlos’s big nipples, and the Latino stroked the boy’s cum-clogged hair.
“It’s all right, my little love. Everything is all right now.”
“I don’t care if I die, as long as I can be with you until it happens.”
“But it won’t happen. That’s why I wanted you down here with me. I wanted you to get sent here. I hoped they would send you here too, but, at first, they didn’t, and I got really scared. You see, down here there’s an escape from Lakeland that nobody knows about. A kid, who was sent to The Pit and then recalled to be fucked by some politician or other, knew about the escape route. He told me. I’ve found it, and now we can escape together. It won’t be easy, but we can do it. I know we can. And then we can fuck like this every day, forever, for the rest of our lives. I want you to be my bitch, always. I want you never to leave me.”
“Oh, Carlos, I swear I will never leave you. Let’s go now!”
“It’s not that easy, my little pussy. It’s very dangerous, and we need our strength. Let’s sleep first. Then I’ll explain the escape route to you. Baby, my baby, can I sleep with my dick up your pussy?”
Carlos didn’t wait for an answer. He didn’t have to. He nudged his once again hardening cock up the twelve-year-old asshole, and Bobby winced and sighed, and then drifted into a contented, peaceful sleep.
Damn It! Burke hated to be interrupted when he was in the middle of something. Sometimes he felt certain no one in the fucking school could do anything without his supervision. He never had a moment’s peace. He was seated in his office in his comfortable desk chair, which he had moved to the middle of the room. He was dressed casually in sweatpants and tee-shirt. The sweat pants allowed his huge dripping erection to flop about more easily. Soon the pants would come off but not just yet. And what was the cause of the headmaster’s hard-on? His seventeen-year-old guest.
Pete Lester was a well-built, all tan, all American hunk of a boy, Midwest farm boy stock. A mop of curly brown hair, large innocent eyes, a smooth face with a natural smile (he had not smiled much lately), and a healthy, well-muscled, big-boned body. Pete was a cute kid, all right. A young fucker in his prime. Pete had arrived at Lakeland about two months ago, and after Burke had taken one look at the boy, he knew the kid was a prime candidate for his special physical fitness program.
Pete had been fucking around with girls. Shit, the boy just couldn’t control his big pink Midwestern farm boy dick, and he went and got a fourteen-year-old cunt pregnant. She had enjoyed the boy’s big fat cut dick no end. Pete’s mistake was in refusing to wear a rubber, but he thought it would take the sensation out of the fuck.
Pete’s parents were mortified. The upright Lutheran family’s character was shot to hell by scandal and humiliation. How could they hold their heads up at the church picnic with everyone knowing their son was a teenage cunt-fucker. So after much deliberation, they decided a private school was the best thing for their wayward son, a rigorous private school.
Lakeland Academy for Boys is as strict as they come. Young husky Pete was sweating as he sat on the high stool in front of Burke. He was naked, and his boy glory was on perfect display. His body was sweaty not with heat sweat but with pain sweat. His hair hung over his beautiful fear-filled eyes. His full lower lip quivered, and his wide nostrils flared. He had large even teeth, and their grinding sound made Burke’s thick prick twitch.
Muscle boy Pete could not use his hands, as he needed them to hold on to the stool. His size eleven feet pressed against the lower rungs of the stool to help him keep balance, but even so, he was careful to keep his knees spread as wide as possible so as not to displease Burke.
Burke dropped another metal lug into the bucket and studied the grimace on the boy’s beautiful face. Over ten pounds of weight already filled the swinging pail. It was attached to a rope, which was secured tightly around seventeen-year-old Pete’s full, young, hairless scrotum.
“You know Pete, it seems that if I drop the lug from a greater height, the pain to your nuts is more severe, would you agree?”
Pete gulped. Burke watched the boys Adam’s apple slide up and down.
“Yes, sir…oh, god…it really hurts, sir. It’s pulling my nuts off.”
“Oh, Pete, don’t be so dramatic. I’ve known boys years younger than you to take much greater weight on the ball sack. Besides you know this is for your own good. So many muscle boys have pitifully small nuts. It’s embarrassing, so we are trying to develop your balls to match the rest of your handsome teenage frame. I’m determined to get that ball bag to hang halfway to your knees if it kills me. Think, Pete, how the girls will like that, maybe the next little teenage twat that you fuck pregnant can tell her friends, ‘My boyfriend Pete has huge nuts. They hang halfway to his knees.’ ”
Burke raised his hand and dropped another lug into the bucket. Pete winced and groaned.
“You see, Pete, the skin of the ball bag has impressive elasticity. Of course, right now, your big horsedick is shriveled up to nothing from the pain. It’s kind of cute actually.
“Oh, god, please, sir, can’t you stop? I can’t take the pain.”
“Stop? Why, Pete, we’re just starting. I’ve got another ten pounds of lugs here. Now tell me, is that dildo up your ass comfortable? I didn’t know if I should use a nine or ten-inch rubber dick when in doubt I always err on the larger size.”
“It hurts really badly, sir. It’s all the way up into my guts.”
“Yes, well, if the pain in your fuck sack gets too intense, just wiggle around on the dildo. That should take your mind off your scrotum for a bit. Tomorrow we’ll try eleven inches. The nice thing about the rubber dicks is, they give and bend, so they conform to your insides. The wooden dildos are rigid and force your body to accommodate them. We won’t get to the wooden dildos for a few days yet. Tell me, Pete, how do you feel about your nipples?”
Another lug hit the bucket.
“Yes, your titty buds, your boy udders. So few boys realize how sensitive tits can enhance the fucking procedure. I’ll bet that little cunt didn’t chew on your tits while you fucked her, did she?”
“Huh? No…no, she didn’t…oh, god.”
Pete threw his head, and a bit of sweat hit Burke in the face.
“Careful, Pete, you’re getting me wet. No, you see, there you were kind enough to stuff her worthless twat with your fat teenage prick, and the ungrateful little cunt only thought of her own pleasure.”
Burke tossed two lugs into the bucket. It took almost a minute for Pete’s mind to clear of the blinding pain.
“Did you chew her nipples, Pete, while you fucked her?”
“Oh…god…I don’t remember…I don’t remember.”
“Of course, you do. Think Pete, did you suck the cunt’s tits. Did you chew on her nipples?”
“Yeah…yeah, I guess I did.”
The boy squeezed his beautiful eyes shut.
“Well, there you are then. You sucked her tits. She didn’t suck yours, which is my point exactly. People don’t realize the pleasure you can get out of boy tit. Now, Pete, you have a well-developed chest for a seventeen-year-old. I can tell you worked on it a lot, nice big strong, smooth pecs. Well, when I see a guy with pecs like yours, I really get turned on when his nipples kind of hang down from them, all fat and pouty. You know, kind of like animal teats, cow udders. I think with diligent work that we can probably get your nipples two or three inches long. Think how nice that would be. You’d be able to suck your own tits.”
Burke laughed and twisted the boys already large sore pink nipples. Burke attached a clamp to each boy tit. The metal teeth bit into the soft tender pink titty skin, and Pete bit his lower lip. A chain connected the nipple clamps and in the center of the chain a metal container.
“Now, Pete, we’re going to play a little game. You tell me where you want me to drop the next lug, into the ball bucket or the box attached to your nipples. It’s your choice.
Pete’s voice was broken with sobs.
“Oh…shit, sir…do you know how much this hurts?”
“Of course not, I’ve never had anything like this done to me, but I’d say from the look in your eyes it hurt pretty badly. About as much as that stupid cunt’s twat the first time you fucked her. Now, where do you want the lug, tit box or ball bucket?”
Pete whimpered, “Tit box.”
He screamed as the weight practically tore his nipples from his chest. They hung stretched like pig teats.
“Okay, now where do you want the next lug?”
“Pleeease…don’t do this to me. I’m begging you, sir…pleeease…let me suck your cock…fuck my ass…please fuck my ass…just no more pain.”
“I’ll fuck your ass, later on, baby, after we’re through playing. Oh, look here, I’ve got some heavier lugs. Tell me, do you think the pressure on your nuts is going to affect your baby-making abilities? You’re a very good looking young man, Pete, and I’m seriously thinking of entering you in the fist fuck competition for this year’s Annual Fundraising Gala. Of course, it’ll take a lot of work and training to get you ready, but I think you’ve got what it takes. Now, don’t pass out on me, boy. You know I don’t like that. Would you like a little horse piss to drink?”
It was at this auspicious moment that the arrival of Milford Stanton, Lakeland Academy Chief of Security, shattered Burke’s relaxation. Milford was a balding man in his fifties with a big beer gut that hung well over his wide gun holster belt. Milford always wore the gunbelt, sometimes he even wore it while in bed, fucking a little twelve or fourteen-year-old boy-pussy. The kids were in awe of the big gun, a magnum to replace Milford’s own personal lack of much gun or gun power. He loved to shove the barrel of the weapon up tender tight boy ass, but Burke had forbidden him to play Russian roulette that way. I mean you can’t just go blowing boys apart for no reason. No, sir, Burke had to keep the Security Chief’s obscene lusts in check.
“We got trouble,” Milford snapped, walking right into the office without knocking. Burke would have thrown a fit, but the look in Milford’s little piggy eyes told him this was serious.
“What’s up?” he asked, giving the bucket tied to Pete’s balls a good hard swing and getting a high-pitched whine in return.
“You’re not going to like this. We got a security breach. The warning lights are blinking, and the buzzers blaring like all get out.”
“So? Close off the corridor, seal the exits, electrify the fences, and catch the little shit who tried to escape.”
Burke was furious over being bothered with such a trivial matter. Boys, who just couldn’t take it anymore, tried to escape all the time. They never did, of course, getaway. I mean, never.
“It’s not that easy, sir.” Christ, Milford called him ‘sir,’ so it must be grave. “You see, the breach, it’s coming from down in The Pit.”
“How can it be coming from The Pit? Everything is sealed off down there. It’s just one big shit pit.”
“Well, there are the sewers that carry the shit flow out into the river. I mean, it’s impossible, but you never can tell.”
Burke stood, really angry now, he gave Pete’s bucket a good hard kick. Pete howled and blacked out from the pain in his stretched seventeen-year-old balls.
“You mean some boy or boys could escape from the school through the shit sewers?”
“Well, no. I don’t believe they could, but you never can tell.”
“Well, what the fuck do we do?”
Burke was already out the door and heading down the hall. Milford waddled after him like a duck.
“Well, I don’t know. We sure as hell don’t want to go down into The Pit. Don’t even suggest it.”
“Milford, you fat fuck, if one boy escapes from here, it could mean life imprisonment for all of us. Now, I don’t care if you gotta go for a swim in a lake of shit. You find the breach and seal it before anybody escapes.”
Burke turned into Doc Trotter’s office. The good doctor hovered over his dentist chair. The chair was new, a new toy. Doc Trotter had explained to Burke how much money school could save if he could provide the boys with dental care. The only thing wrong was that he had never had a lesson in dental work in his life, so he set about to learn with the reluctant help of some of the students at Lakeland.
Fifteen-year-old Joey Carpenter was tonight’s guest. He was strapped bare-ass naked in the dental chair. Tubes from his rectum and the pisshole of his dick took care of any unwanted evacuations. You see, the doctor never used any anesthetic at all. And when you gave a boy twenty root canals in one night, it could become pretty painful. The nice thing was, of course, there was no permanent damage if you gave the boy proper fillings. Well, you could always begin again. Doc Trotter was as last getting the hang of the damn thing. Joey sat almost upside down, his head clamped tightly with a steel brace, his mouth plugged open, spit and saliva running down his chin and neck. Now and again, Doc Trotter spit into the boy’s mouth himself, to clean away the crap.
“Does this hurt?” he asked, shoving the pick deep into the nerve of the boy’s tooth.
The kid stiffened, shook and pissed into the tube. He made a kind of gurgling sound.
“Yeah, I thought so. That’s right in the nerve. I’m just gonna drill a little in there. See what happens.”
The boy’s high-pitched scream was music to the doc’s ears. He reached down and absentmindedly fondled the boy’s shrunken penis and tight balls.
“Yeah, I think we’ll have to do a lot of drilling tonight.”
The kid bucked in the chair, trying to tear free of his leather restraints, but it was no use.
“How does that shit tube up your ass feel? Is it comfortable?”
The boy moaned wide-eyed and hysterical with fear.
“The tube up your pisshole is larger than it should be, but it’s all I had handy. Now let me see, do I use the small drill head or the large one? I promise not to damage your pretty teeth in any way. No sir, I wouldn’t want to mar your boyish good looks at all. So tell me, Joey, have you ever fucked a girl?”
Dentists always asked questions when the patients could not answer them when their mouths were all clogged with rubber plugs and wire clamps. They always made stupid conversation, and Doc Trotter was trying to be a good dentist.
“Ever shove your teenage wiener into some nice warm pussy, Joey boy?”
One hand tugged at the boy’s nipples while the other turned on the drill, just to hear the lovely whirr of the motor.
“Ever fuck balls deep into cunt, Joey, or have you been an asspussy all your life? I read your file, you know. It says you were giving the older boys at your school blowjobs. Is that true, Joey? Are you a cocksucker? They say cocksuckers without teeth give wonderful blowjobs. Maybe we should try some extraction, huh, Joey? Pull out all your teeth one by one so you can gum dick.”
Of course, Trotter would not really do that. It would destroy the boy’s good looks, but it sure was fun to spook the kid, watch him shit and piss and grovel.
And then Burke ruined his night.
“Come with me, Trotter,” he shouted through the open door.
“Oh, fuck, Burke, why do you always do this to me. Can’t a guy have any fun anymore?”
“There’s a breach in security in The Pit and some boys may be trying to escape. It could be just a structural breach, but we can’t be sure.”
“Oh, fuck, that’s serious, isn’t it?”
Trotter put his tools down and slapped Joey’s sweat-slick face.
“You just wait right here, I’ll be back.”
It would be a long time before Trotter returned to his dental practice, as events were careening toward chaos. There was a breach all right. Down deep in The Pit, two boys, lovers, Carlos and Bobby were escaping!
Bobby and Carlos waded through a lake of shit, a cesspool of human and animal waste. It was so thick it resisted the legs, and going was slow. Several times Bobby felt sure he would faint, and a couple of times he did keel over, only to be held erect by Carlos. The Latino boy was strong and warm, and Bobby wished to God that he could smell the older boy’s sweaty torso instead of the overwhelming stench of rotting shit. Flies swarmed over the two boys as they waded waist-deep in the human waste toward Bobby knew not what. Flies crawled over his eyes and between his lips, up his nose and into his ears. Bobby sobbed as flies chewed on his nipples and covered his hands and arms.
“Carlos, I can’t stand it…I can’t…anymore…I just want to die.”
The taller well-built Latino grabbed the frail, thin, twelve-year-old boy and flung him over one shoulder.
“No, you don’t. You’re not leaving me now, we live or die together.”
With one hand Carlos scraped the shit off Bobby’s ass and legs. The pool of waste got deeper and deeper, now it was up to Carlos’ chest, and Bobby hanging over one shoulder fought to keep his face from the filth.
“Carlos, for God’s sake, where are we going? There’s no escape here.”
“Don’t fucking say that. There has to be a way out. There’s a grating here someplace through which the shit flows. It leads down through a drainage tunnel and out into the river. At least, that’s what I was told, and fucking hell, I gotta believe it.”
“We can’t see. We don’t even know where to look. We’ll drown in shit for fuck sake.”
“Shut the fuck up! You’re spewing more crap than what we’re walking through. We’ll find it, I tell you. We just gotta keep our strength and keep hoping. There’s supposed to be a dead-end ahead someplace, and that’s where the grating is.”
For hours, they struggled through the river of waste. Carlos would grow tired and put Bobby down so he could rest his arms. Little Bobby stood very still because the shit was now up to his chin.
“How can you even move through this, Carlos? It’s so thick. Go on and save yourself. Forget about me.”
Carlos grabbed the boy roughly with one large shit-covered hand. He dragged the boy into him and planted his thick juicy lips on the boy’s tender, bruised mouth. His fat Latino tongue probed and prodded Bobby’s mouth and throat.
“I love you, you cuntface, can’t you get that through your stupid twat brain. I fucking love you, and we go together.”
Bobby threw his shitty arms around Carlos’ neck, almost dragging him down.
“Nobody ever loved me that much in my whole life,” he whispered.
“Fucking A! And nobody ever will. You belong to me inside and out to do with as I please. I just may fuck you to death when we get out of here.”
Bobby licked the handsome, tough face.
“I hope you do. I hope you do. Carlos, while we’re resting, finger fuck me just a little, will you? It feels so good when you are inside me.”
Carlos laughed in the blackness.
“Here we are up to our necks in shit, and you want to be finger fucked? You’ve become a horny little slut, haven’t you?”
“Only for you, Carlos, only for you, I’m your slut. I’m your twelve-year-old ass cunt, your fuck boy, your dick hole…oh…yeah.”
Carlos held Bobby with one arm so he would not fall and shoved a finger roughly up the boy’s ass-pussy. It felt funny moving his hand through the shit, his finger reaching into the moist warm, soft inner ass of the twelve-year-old boy. Carlos shoved a second finger in, and a third.
“Ugh…ugh…ugh…oh, god…oh, god, Carlos…I’m all hard, my dick is fucking the shit lake…oh, yeah…more…harder…fuck me harder.”
Carlos knew then that Bobby had been affected for life by his Lakeland training, which suited him just fine, as it only made him love the boy more. He rammed four fingers up the asshole, and Bobby screamed. The scream bounced off the dank shit-slimed walls of the sewer. Somewhere rats scurried, and the flies buzzed angrily around their stubborn prey. Carlos sucked Bobby’s filthy face, sucked the snot from his nose and sucked the spit from his mouth. He twisted and prodded with his four fingers way up little Bobby’s twelve-year-old ass-pussy until his fingers, covered with shit from the sewer, met new shit from inside the boy. The fingers widened, stretching the ass lining, and Bobby groaned in pain and ecstasy. Carlos bent his thumb in and tried to insert that up the little boy’s ass too. Bobby raised one leg and wrapped it around his lover, giving him more ass to play with.
“I’m…ugh…gonna fist fuck you. If you want it, I’ll get it all the way up you. If that’s what you really want. Can you take it? You’ll be my walking, talking cunthole.”
“Do it, Carlos, do it, fist fuck my shithole. Oh, god…oh, god…oh, fucking god. It hurts so fucking good.”
Burke was busy once again in his office. He was trying to do a competent job with his work on eighteen-year-old Pete Lester. He had already sorely neglected the boy earlier in the past twenty-four hours. And here it was the boy’s eighteenth birthday. Today he was a man. He was determined to get the boy’s ball bag halfway to his knees, and he was way behind schedule. Now, young, handsome, muscular jock Pete had large balls to begin with, really large. Freshman girls at his school could never get them into their cheeks the way he liked to do. He had loved to soak his nuts in the girls’ mouths, but it was almost impossible. But his bag had never been one of those low hanging swinging types, well not at least until Burke came to his rescue and decided to help him. It must be very dangerous to have almost fifteen pounds of weight hanging from your scrotum. Pete was sure it was dangerous. He sat very still on the stool.
At the present time, Burke was hard at work on Pete’s prick, and a handsome big teenage dick it was too, all pink and thick and fleshy. It had taken quite a bit of work to get it hard with the weight on the nut bag, but at last, Burke had worked it to a respectable eight inches. The cock had a big pink helmet-shaped dickhead, quite large.
“Now you see, Pete,” Burke remarked casually to the sweating groaning bare-assed boy on the stool with legs spread. “Part of your problem is that your pisshole is very small, much too small for a dick this size. If we enlarge it, you’ll not only be able to piss more comfortably, but you’ll also shoot your fuck load into those virgin pussies more easily. I definitely think we should enlarge our pisshole. What do you think, Pete?”
Pete whimpered. He had never believed such pain possible. Sweat dripped from his strong muscular naked form and puddled on the floor at the foot of the red wooden stool.
“Please, sir…please, sir, don’t hurt me anymore. For the love of God, don’t hurt me anymore. I’ll do anything you want.”
Burke made a clicking sound with his teeth and reached out to twist the big stretched nipples that hung from Pete’s well-developed pecs. They were already like three-inch erasers, but Burke was not nearly satisfied. He tugged on the sore, raw nipples.
“Pete, you’re not listening to me. I asked you a question. I asked if you think we should enlarge your pisshole. Now, just give me a civil answer.”
When Pete answered, his voice sounded like a little boy all high and thin. He kind of mewed like a kitten as he spoke.
“Whatever…you…you think…is…best, sir.”
“Gosh, Pete, I’m glad you trust me.”
Burke wiped the trail of tears running from Pete’s water rimmed eyes.
“I’m glad you have confidence that I know what’s best for you. And you know what? I won’t betray that trust. I do know what is best for you. Do you remember how you shrieked and begged when I told you we were going to use a twelve-inch dildo up your ass today? And now look at you, snug as a bug in a rug. I bet you hardly feel it do you?”
The truth was it felt like it was tearing up Pete’s insides with every breath he took. And the fucking dildo was so wide, like a fucking beer can, that he just knew his poor jock ass would never close up again. He was afraid that turds would just drop out as he walked. He started to say something to Burke, but the poor boy’s mouth would not work, would not form words. It just opened and closed.
“Thirsty, baby, want a little drink? Let’s see what we have today for your eighteenth birthday. Oh, some nice fresh dog piss from our farm. Here help yourself.”
Burke lifted up a water bottle filled with foul stinking yellow dog urine. He forced open the mouth of the eighteen-year-old Midwestern farm boy by squeezing his jaw. Then he squeezed the bottle, and fresh warm dog piss shot into the kid’s mouth.
“Swallow, baby…that’s a good boy…can’t get dehydrated…got to keep you in top form for your training. A little more…good…good…now back to work. You see, if I shove this steel rod up your cock, it will not only stretch the pisshole but the entire urethra. Now, I think, if I’m not mistaken, that this same thing was done by Nazis’ in World War II as torture. Funny, huh? They never realized that they were actually helping their victims. Actually, it was hygienically beneficial. A nice big piss hole is a fine thing to have. Now, I’ll just hold your fine fat fuck sausage with one hand and work the tip of the steel rod between those sensitive but very small piss lips. You’ll see how much you enjoy a big pisshole, Pete, when you jack off on a girl’s face. It will come out in nice thick spurts from now on. Oh, stop moaning, that can’t hurt yet. It’s barely in the pisshole. I know you probably wish that I would use a thinner rod, but then we’d only have to go through all this again. I know boys your age who can stick their little fingers in their piss holes, now there’s a goal to work for, isn’t it?”
Pete was gagging on pain. He threw his head from side to side and bounced on the huge dildo up his ass canal. His hands clawed at the sides of the stool. His big feet curled. Burke loved that sight. He thought it was cute.
“You see, you gotta have a big dick shaft to stretch a pisshole this much. Did you always have such a fat dick? I’ll bet the kids in school were really envious. If only you could have controlled the fucking cock and not gotten a cunt pregnant. There, about three inches in there now. Don’t you go fucking passing out on me now, boy. You do, and we start all over again with a bigger rod. What’s your girlfriend’s name, Pete, the one you fucked pregnant?”
“Sa…Sal…Sal…her name is…oh, god…sir…Sally…oh, fuck…oh, fuck…oh.”
“Sally, what a stupid cunt name. Well, Sally, the pregnant sow, is gonna love your new pisshole, Pete. She can suck the cum right out of it with a straw. You know the first few times you piss after you have this done, well it’s the same when you get a catheter, it’ll burn so badly that you think you’ll fucking die. It’s hilarious to watch some guy pissing after his dick lining has been worked on. Maybe, I’ll take you down to the cafeteria and let you piss in front of the whole school to give the boys a laugh. Of course, we have had lots of boys shove straws up their dicks, but a steel rod, well, that’s impressive. You’re gonna have one fine looking prick, boy, and with those bulls balls of yours, shit, you’ll be like a fucking horse. And, of course, your fat sows tits add to the total package. Yes, sir, you’re becoming one buff boy twat. It’s going to be a great birthday present.”
The door to Burke’s office swung open, Burke jumped and shoved too hard. Pete twisted his young, handsome face into something resembling the Frankenstein monster and blacked out. Burke swore, kicked the bucket tied to the boy’s ball bag and leaving the rod in the dick, turned to face Milford.
Security Chief Milford had not had any sleep in twenty-four hours. He was beside himself, an awkward position since he already had enough blubber for two. His fat stomach hung over his gun belt, and several open buttons showed an expanse of pale hairy bloated stomach.
“This better be good, Milford,” Burke hissed, calming his erection with one hand.
“It is, boss, it is. We found ‘em. Two of ‘em making their way through the sewers toward the river. Jesus Christ, they’re wading through shit, Mr. Burke. They musta crawled through the pipes and dropped into the cistern or something. Anyway, they’re heading for the river opening. I don’t see how they can get out. I think they’ll probably just die down there in the shit, but if they do somehow see the light of day, we’ll be waiting for them. I got a dozen men posted down there. And dogs. And guns.”
Burke grabbed a jacket.
“Good work, Milford. I’m going down there myself. Get some rest.”
Fat slobby Milford burped.
“I gotta take a wicked piss. Had to piss for about four hours.”
Burke nodded toward the unconscious Pete.
“Piss on him to wake him up. And then do me a favor, will you, Milford, and fuck his face real good. He’s just not cooperating the way he should. Leave the rod in his dick, the bucket on his balls and the dildo up his ass though, will you? Oh, and before you leave, chain him to the stool so he can’t wander away. I want him right there when I get back. It’s his birthday. He’s a man today so fuck his pussy-face nice and hard.”
“I really hate to piss up your office, Mr. Burke.”
“That’s okay, Milford, I’ll have the boys lay a new carpet tomorrow. Oh, and help yourself to the brandy. I don’t mind telling you I was worried, but things are going to turn out okay after all.”
“Okay, Bobby, I found the grating. It’s beneath the level of the shit. This is the hard part. We gotta hold our breath, break off the grating and then swim through the shit to the other side.”
Bobby looked at Carlos. He shook his beautiful young head.
“I can’t go down under there. I can’t swim underneath the shit. I can hardly move in it.”
“You have to, and look, don’t get lost. You’ll drown in it if you go the wrong direction. I’d have you hang on to my foot, but I need my legs to kick. I have an idea, grab on to my dick, and don’t let go. Swim along with me, and no matter what happens, don’t let go of my dick. When we get to the grating, help me pull it off, but keep holding onto my dick.”
“Jesus, Carlos, how long will this all take? How long do I gotta hold my breath under the shit?”
“I figure about a minute and a half. Don’t worry, all that throat fucking they gave you taught you to expand your lungs. You can do it. The very thing they used to torture you will now save you.”
“Oh, Carlos, will I ever see you again?”
“Yes, on the other side of this wall. Now, when I count three take a deep breath, grab my dick, and let’s go.”
On the count of three, the two naked, shit-covered boys sank down beneath the level of human excrement and disappeared. On the other side of the wall, twelve armed guards waited to greet them.
Burke pulled up to the drainage site in his Jeep, and he had one of the men park it behind some nearby shrubs. He instructed the dozen armed men to stay hidden and be patient, but it was too late as the two terrified naked boys behind the metal grating had seen the headmaster’s arrival.
“Oh, fuck, they’re out there waiting for us.”
Carlos was clutching the wire grillwork with one hand, the other hand was holding up his exhausted lover. Bobby moaned while still grasping his lover’s dick as he had done during the suffocating swim through the shit stream. How much shit he had swallowed? Bobby did not know, but enough to make him puke with some regularity. He was sure that even if they escaped, he would never get rid of the taste and feel of the human waste covering his body and forcing its way into his being. With each breath, gobs of shit sprayed from his nose. With each word, stringy trails of shit ran from his beautiful twelve-year-old mouth. Bobby didn’t even care anymore. He just wanted to rest his head on Carlos shit-covered shoulder.
“That’s it then. We gotta give ourselves up. There’s nothing we can do.”
“Not yet, we don’t give up. I’d rather be shot trying to escape than go back to them. If Burke is out here, it means he’s not back at the school. I got an idea. Come on, Bobby, we gotta go back through the shit.”
Milford Stanton was holding down the fort. The chief security officer of Lakeland Academy for Boys was having one hell of a time doing it too. Currently, he was preoccupying his time by holding a lighted cigar to the extended nipples of eighteen-year-old muscle boy Pete Lester, who was tied to a bright red stool with a huge wooden dildo up his stretched jock ass. Milford smacked his tobacco-stained lips.
“My, my, my you are a pretty thing, ain’t you, my boy? All fine toned and muscular. I do love those big sow tits. Who gave you them pig titties, Burke? He must have worked long and hard to get them nipples standing out like that, all ready to be milked. Lookee here, I can put the tip of this here lit cigar right along the bottom edge of one of them nipples.”
Pete Lester flung back his sweat-slick head with pain. The smell of burned flesh along with the sting in his tit told him Milford was just touching the tip of the cigar to his nipple. It would get worse. His large, well-muscled feet curled against the stool rung. The bucket swinging from his balls, to which Milford had added a desk paperweight, clattered against the red stool.
“Hard to believe now, I know, I know, but when I was your age, boy, I had a body like yours, all muscles, smooth and young. I was the hero of my high school; all the cunts were after my dick. Fucked plenty of them too, but my real taste was always for little boys. I guess you might call me a bully. You see, I just loved nothing better than to beat the fuck out of little boys. Weekends, even in high school, I would roam the streets just looking for little seven and eight year old boys that I could slap around. Find me a little nigger boy or a Jew boy, and I’d have a really good time with my hunting knife. I was a real mean dude, so, of course, I went into law enforcement.”
Milford paused to puff on the cigar until the tip was glowing bright red, then he gently placed it right on Pete’s right nipple tip.
“Happy eighteenth birthday, Pete. I done real good in the police too until they caught me fucking a ten-year-old kid with a nightstick. Sadly, that was the end of that, so I went into security. Open your mouth, boy.”
Pete opened his mouth, and Milford leaned up, letting tobacco drool run from his mouth down into the prisoner’s open mouth. Brown slime filled the eighteen-year-old boy’s mouth. He coughed and gagged. With one hand, Milford tugged a bit on the thick steel rod that had been inserted into the boy’s piss slit. Pete grunted, and tobacco spit gurgled from his lips. Milford ran his other hand down the boy’s muscular chest.
“What a nice birthday celebration, huh, boy? And the best is yet to come. You ain’t even got my present yet. I got me a pet, maybe you heard of it, a seven-foot boa constrictor. Well, for your birthday present, I thought we would see how much of that old snake we could get up your teenage ass-pussy. Would you like that, boy? I bet you would. I bet that after all them little dildos, that ass-cunt is aching for something really big to stuff it, really huge to fuck it once and for all.”
“Pleeease…” Pete moaned.
“Aw, you Midwest farm boys are so shy, afraid to ask for what you want, but I know how much you would adore that big thick old snake slithering its way up into your guts. We’re gonna do that boy, soon as I finish working on them big fat nipples of yours. You know, I think I’ll fuck your ass first because once I bring that boa constrictor up here, your cunt ain’t gonna be good for much except for fist fucking. Your asshole will be stretched so much Burke’s gonna have to give you stable duty satisfying the horses. We got nine boys on stable duty now, you know, since that’s all they’re good for now. My, my, my, but you are one pretty boy.”
It was at that moment that the grillwork covering the airshaft to the office flew off the wall and clattered against the wall plaques that Lakeland Academy had received for its excellent work with the youth of America.
Milford’s piggy eyes raised themselves toward the brown apparition dropping from the air duct. The stench of shit filled the room. It took the fat, sluggish security guard a second to get his bearings before his right hand dropped to his gun belt, but Carlos was too quick for him. The Latino boy grabbed one of Burke’s awards, a figure of a godly male holding the world over his head, and swung the trophy up into Milford’s face. The sound of cheekbone and nose cracking rang through the room. Milford never made a sound. He simply keeled out of his chair onto the carpet, unconscious.
Pete Lester was sure he had passed out again, and this was a dream. A tall, muscular, naked boy, whose face and body were covered entirely with shit, stood frozen, staring at him as if making some decision. The Latino’s well-formed chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and the boy’s big balls swung gently with each gulp of fresh air.
Carlos looked down at Milford and then with one naked foot kicked the unconscious guard as hard as he could in the crotch. Carlos bared his teeth in a kind of primitive snarl and tears overflowed his red eyes and trailed down through the shit covering his face. Carlos kneeled, and with Milford’s hunting knife he slit the rope attaching the bucket to Pete’s stretched out ball sack. Then he sliced through the ropes binding the boy to the stool.
“Help me,” Carlos said simply and rose to cross back to the air duct high on the office wall.
“Help me first,” whispered Pete, unable to rise up off the red wooden stool. “I got a fucking twelve-inch dildo up my ass.”
“Sorry,” Carlos muttered and returned to the impaled youth.
He helped the boy ease his ass off the dildo. Pete stood leaning against the desk, unable to support his own weight. He grabbed the pitcher of water and took a long drink of the cool, refreshing liquid.
“It’ll take a minute.”
“That’s how much time we got, about a minute.”
Carlos dragged the desk over to the wall and stood on it. Then he reached into the air vent and pulled out another form of a much younger naked boy also covered with shit.
“Who are you?” Pete asked, hypnotized by the two aboriginal warriors.
Carlos laughed as he carried the little naked boy into the private bathroom.
“You don’t remember me? I fucked you at least three times for parties. Burke made you eat my shit, remember? I suppose not. It’s all the same around this place.”
Pete did not remember. He had been ass repeatedly fucked since coming to Lakeland by kids of all ages for the pleasure of perverted adults. He had been forced to eat the shit of twelve-year-old boys and twenty-year-old adults. He had been whipped until his ass was raw. He had sucked dick until his lips were numb. How could he be expected to remember one more prick that had fucked him? He shook his legs to get the circulation back. Fortunately, he had robust and well-muscled athlete’s legs, and their strength returned. He heard the sound of the shower. He looked down at Milford Stanton.
Pete knelt next to the unconscious man. Then working quickly, he undid the guard’s trousers and lowered them. Next, the stiff cum-soaked boxer shorts came down. Milford’s stinking genitals lay asleep, no ugly boy torturing, monster prick now, just a small innocent looking penis nestled in a mass of salt and pepper prick hair. Pete took the hunting knife. The unmanning of a man who had visited countless horrors upon innocent boys was over quickly. Pete tossed the severed prick and balls into the wastebasket. He no longer feared reprisal. It was the end of the world; he was confident of that. He watched Milford Stanton bleed to death. He’d had no desire to torture the man. He only wanted justice. Now he had it.
The shower stopped, and Carlos emerged, smooth-skinned and clean, like a young god. He was, indeed, a beautiful youth. Behind him, a little less firm of foot, but clean nevertheless, Bobby staggered, eyes adjusting to the light in the room. Carlos looked at the dying, dead man on the carpet and the spreading pool of blood. He looked up at Pete and smiled.
“Guess you intend to escape with us, huh?”
“We’ll never escape. There’s no way out.”
Bobby blinked, looking around the room.
“We’re back at Lakeland. We’re back at Burke’s office.”
He remembered his first day there, his humiliation and abuse.
“We came back to get out,” Carlos said simply.
Carlos walked over to glass gun case in the corner of the room and smashed it open. He removed two nine-millimeter Berettas and a couple of boxes of ammo.
“Bobby, help him get that rod out of his dick.”
While Carlos loaded the automatic weapons, Bobby held Pete’s swollen tender prick in one hand and slid the thick metal rod out with the other. Pete gritted his teeth and made wounded cat noises, but at last, the rod was free from the gaping pisshole.
“That’s gonna hurt the first few times you piss,” Carlos said, sliding a clip into one of the guns. “I remember I thought I was gonna die. The teachers thought it was really funny and kept making me drink water, so I would piss more.” He slammed the second clip home. “Now, here’s the plan. With a state of emergency declared and Burke and the guards at the drainage sewer, lots of guests are leaving this place like rats leaving a sinking ship. I was watching the front gate on the television monitor in the bathroom. I saw three limos pull out. We’re going out the front gate, boys, in one of those limos.”
He nodded at Milford’s discarded weapon.
“Take his gun.”
“Bobby, you take one of these. I can’t find any clothes, so I guess we go out bare-assed. Whatever happens, don’t let them take you alive. You know what they can do to a boy. Let’s go!”
Gaylord Faust was a mean motherfucker. A rich mean motherfucker. He was as rich and ruthless as they come. Just the week before Gaylord had called a young executive into his office for a private conference. He laid it on the line more or less. If the young executive wanted a promotion, he had to take Gaylord’s ten-inch prick up his young recently married ass.
“You want a future with the firm, Alan, get your trousers down and bend over that desk.”
It had been just as simple as that, and he was fucking the twenty-three-year-old salesman up his virgin ass-pussy. He had been fucking the kid daily ever since, and when he did not feel like a good fuck, he allowed the custodian, a huge, fat, black man with a dick much larger than his brain, to fuck the kid. Alan got an immediate raise which pleased his young wife of two months tremendously. He also had an ass so sore he could hardly sit down—the price of success.
Gaylord had done worse things. A few months ago he caught one of his top people playing with the figures to skim a little extra off the top for himself and his family. Gaylord should have turned the man over to the police at once, but he had other, more devious ideas. He called the manager into his office for one of his famous conferences.
“You’ll go to jail for twenty years for this, Phil.” He had said with a friendly smile on his face. “You’ll be fifty-five before you get out. A little late to pick up the pieces of your life, don’t you think? I’d say you’re in very hot water.”
“Please, Mr. Faust, I’ll do anything, just don’t turn me in. I’ll work for free. I’ll do the lowest job. Just give me another chance, if not for me, for my family.”
“How old is your son now, Phil, eight or nine? Cute little tyke. You know I had the feeling at the company Christmas party last year that the little brat wanted my big dick up his tiny ass. I don’t know. Something about the way he looked at me. I think your boy wants to be ass fucked, Phil.”
Phil went white.
“Oh, God, not that…you wouldn’t…please, Mr. Faust, don’t hurt my family…please.”
“It’s your call, Phil, the police, or tomorrow it becomes father and son day around here. You bring your boy for a nice visit with your boss.” Faust rubbed his crotch. “I’ve got a big fat prick, you know, Phil, very thick, I don’t know if the little kid’s ass can take it, but we’ll see, won’t we? You know, come to think of it. I think I’d like to fuck your ten-year-old daughter too. Shit, she’s probably taking cock at school already anyway. Kids start young nowadays. We’ll do her next week, but tomorrow I want to sample your little boy’s ass-pussy.”
It really wasn’t much of a decision. I mean twenty years in prison as opposed to a few hours of ass discomfort. His son was young; he would get over it. Shit, Phil would make it up to the boy. Take him on a vacation or something.
Gaylord Faust tweaked the tee-shirt-covered nipple of one of his favorite Lakeland counselors, a tall blonde teen of seventeen, as his maroon limo pulled up to the curb. His driver, a tall, slender, young Chinese man had an eleven-inch prick that Gaylord often put into action in one of his little games, sprung from the car and opened the door. Gaylord ruffled the hair of the fourteen-year-old boy he had just been fucking. The kid had been good—obedient and submissive. The kid was an excellent little cocksucker and drank piss like a pro. Gaylord reminded himself to have Burke send the kid out his private kennels for some real fun.
“Now, be a good boy, Tommy, until I see you next week. Remember, suck all the dick that you can and take as much prick up your ass as time allows. I want you fucked at least eight times a day between now and when I next see you. Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Faust,” Tommy said, wondering if his little ass could take eight big pricks a day. It could, one way or another.
“I want that hole nice and elastic by next week. I’ve got some surprises for you.”
Gaylord kissed the boy on the mouth and then turned to get into his car. The next few seconds were a blur. Tommy was shoved to one side, knocking the counselor down. The Chinese driver tried to pull the gun from his coat, but a shot rang out, and he dropped into the road with a bullet in his brain. The next day the papers should have read “Innocent Driver Slain in Youth Prison Escape Attempt” if the story had ever even reached the newspapers. It didn’t.
Tommy was shoved roughly out of the way as Carlos threw Gaylord Faust into the rear of the car. Pete slid behind the wheel. As Bobby slid into the back, the tall blond counselor grabbed him by the neck and received the butt of the Beretta in his balls for his action, and he crumpled to the pavement. As one of his hands reached for his belt beeper, Carlos pulled the trigger of his automatic, and the counselor’s hand had a hole in it the size of a quarter. Carlos knew how to handle guns; he was a street kid, after all. The maroon limo sped off in the direction of the front gate, bearing three naked teens and a very frightened, very confused millionaire pervert.
“I’m innocent boys, you have to believe me. I’ve never hurt any boys. It’s true. You’ve never seen me hurt any boys, have you? I love boys. I…I confess that I love boys and I use my money and influence to get boy-love, but I’ve never harmed a boy. Oh, God, I’m going to piss my pants.”
Gaylord Faust was pleading for his life. He huddled on the expansive floor of his maroon limo while it sped toward the gates of Lakeland Academy for Boys and stared up at the naked crotches of two bare-assed terrorist teens.
Bobby and Carlos looked down at the man, just another of the hundreds of child-abusing fucks who frequently visited Lakeland to stick their slimy pricks up some poor boy’s innocent ass.
“Let’s shoot him,” Bobby said.
Carlos laughed. Bobby was only twelve and a few weeks earlier would not have dreamed such a horrible thought. Now, the thought became words and slipped out as easily as the countless cocks that had slipped into his stretched out boy-pussy. The very idea of retribution gave Bobby a tremendous hard-on.
“Let’s not shoot him, let’s use him. Let’s use him to get out of here, huh, my horny young colt. My, my, you’ve become a little real terror, haven’t you? I shall have to see that you stay well fucked and content. Otherwise, you might come after me.”
The dark-skinned Latino looked so handsome, so muscular, so rough and tough and streetwise. Bobby melted at once and giggled becoming a little boy again as he buried his face in Carlos’ armpit.
“I want you to fuck me,” he whispered to Carlos, licking his ear.
“Don’t you think we should try to get out of this shithole first?”
Carlos felt his own dick thicken and start to leak. These poor teens had been so trained in sex that they could think of little else. Sex controlled their every action, their every thought. Carlos looked down at Gaylord Faust.
“Do you have any money?”
The millionaire faggot entrepreneur fumbled quickly with the leather compartment at the rear of the front seat.
“I’ve got about twenty thousand in cash here. I can get more. Just don’t hurt me, let me live. I’ll never fuck a boy again, I swear.”
Carlos scooped up the money and threw it into a leather briefcase he found in the rear of the limo. In the front seat, Pete Lester, the bare-ass naked, eighteen-year-old, Midwestern jock, felt the power of his barefoot on the limo’s gas pedal.
“We’re coming up to the front gate.”
“If they open the gates, fine, if not, ram them. Don’t stop for anything. You hear me, Pete? Don’t stop for anything. If they force us to stop, then we use asshole here as a hostage.”
Pete, who had no clothing to hide himself from the glares of the guards at the gate, put on the driver’s discarded hat and hoped that would help. The bare-ass naked teen, his big teenage balls dangling off the car seat, looked adorable with the driver’s hat perched on his boyish face.
“Christ, my dick hurts, and I gotta piss bad,” Pete shouted to the boys in the rear.
“Don’t piss now. You won’t be able to drive with the burning pain. Wait until we can stop someplace.”
“Is something wrong with his dick? I can help. I know doctors,” Gaylord burbled.
“What’s wrong with his dick, fuckface, is that one of your buddies at Lakeland shoved a metal rod up his pisshole, just one of your little games.”
“I never hurt a boy! I never hurt a boy!” Gaylord screamed.
That may have been true in his mind, but technically, it was inaccurate. Gaylord did not think shoving his big fat pink prick up the virgin asshole of a little boy was hurting him. To maintain this perspective, he had to tell himself he was fucking the boy for his own good and that the boy would learn to love getting dicked after the first fuck or ten. He had to use the old gay thesis that every cute kid he pursued “really wanted it.” He used to whisper in the ear of the sobbing child, “I know you want it. I can see it in your eyes. I know you love my big dick up your little pussy. That’s a good boy. Take another inch, and another, all the way to the balls. Can you feel my cock in your tummy, doesn’t that feel good?” And then, of course, there were the times he played pussy stretching games with youngsters. He called the game ‘How Much Can You Take?’
“I’ve never hurt a boy. You’ve got to believe me.”
Carlos got sick of the fag’s whining, so he shoved a barefoot into the man’s mouth.
“Suck my toes,” he barked, and the business tycoon sucked obediently on the Latino’s thick dirty toes.
“I wanna suck your toes,” Bobby said to Carlos.
The horror of what they had been through in the past few hours, not to mention weeks had put the boy into a kind of needy state of shock. He wanted to crawl inside his dark lover and hide.
“When we get outta here, you can suck my asshole all day and night,” Carlos reassured the boy, running one hand through his hair while checking the Beretta automatic with the other.
“Main gate…four guards. Looks…looks…like…wait a minute.” All three boys held their breaths. “Looks like…yes…yes, they’re opening the gate.”
“Way to go,” Carlos whistled, shoving his foot further down Gaylord’s throat so the fucker could not yell for help or make a disturbance. The limo sailed right beneath the high stone and steel portal, and into the free world.
“We made it! I can’t believe we made it!” Pete declared, shoving a cigarette between his sensual lips and lighting it, and he didn’t even smoke.
“We ain’t made it yet. We got out of the fucking school, but remember that half the police and politicians in this fucked-up state are on Burke’s payroll. We gotta cross the state line and then disappear for good. I won’t feel safe until we’re safely hidden someplace in Podunk Junction.”
“Where’s that?” Bobby asked.
“Wherever we can live without being found. Burke will have his people scouring the country for us. Our very existence threatens their whole world. Take this dirt road to the right.”
“Carlos, I gotta piss real bad.”
Pete was obviously in pain. Carlos moved his hunky muscular smooth brown body over the front seat.
“Let me get behind the wheel. You crawl in back and have a piss. Remember it’s gonna hurt bloody murder at first. The inside of your dick has been torn up pretty badly.”
Slowing the car a bit, the two naked teens changed places, their arms and legs and chests, and stomach forming an erotic tangle of boy flesh. Watching the two hunky boys, Bobby’s hard-on throbbed and leaked fuck snot.
“Shit, how can I piss if you don’t stop the car, Carlos,” Pete asked.
“Piss in the faggot’s mouth.”
Gaylord whimpered as the eighteen-year-old farm boy, all muscle and smooth boy flesh, hunkered his big naked body over him.
“Come on, piggy man, show me what a nice toilet you can be. Open wide.”
Gaylord whimpered, but Bobby shoved his gun against the side of the millionaire’s head, and he opened his mouth as the magic words opened Ali Baba’s cave. Pete slipped his fat prick into the open mouth.
“Now don’t close your mouth, and don’t bite me, and swallow all the nice piss.”
“Wait a minute, Pete. Bobby, you crawl around behind Pete and hang onto him. He may go wild from the pain and keep one eye on the fag man piss drinker.”
Carlos watched the boys in the rearview mirror while he spun the sleek limo through the dust and bumps of the backroad. Pete grunted and relaxed his bladder. His dick farted, it actually farted from the air that had been let into it with the steel rod. Both he and Bobby laughed. Then the flow of urine began, and the scalding fire ripped through the length of his dick.
“OOOH, FUUUCK,” he bellowed, grabbing the rear of the front seat with one hand and the backseat with the other.
Piss mixed with a little blood spewed forth into the mouth of the prisoner. Pete’s fingers clawed at the upholstery. His strong legs tensed and his big feet pounded onto the floorboard. Bobby put one slender arm around the older boy’s chest and held him close.
“Swallow my piss, you fucker,” Pete screamed, tears pouring down his handsome face.
“It’s okay, they can’t hurt us anymore,” Bobby soothed as the eighteen-year-old boy pissed and screamed.
His dick felt on fire as if it were burning up from the inside. The piss wouldn’t stop, the screaming wouldn’t stop, the pain wouldn’t stop. Gaylord gulped teenage urine. At last, after forever, the flow of urine slowed to a trickle, and the handsome farm boy slumped back into the arms of the twelve-year-old boy.
“He’s sleeping,” Bobby told Carlos after a few minutes.
“No, just resting,” Pete whispered, sniffing back the last of his tears.
“Bobby…” Carlos said gently from the front. “Make him feel good. Suck his ass for him.”
Pete lay on the rear seat while pointing the gun at Gaylord on the floor as Bobby lowered his soft young face between the older boy’s muscular ass cheeks and thrust his tongue up into the warm moist asshole.
“Oh, yeah…oh, God…fuck…yeah, that feels so good…oh, so good.”
Bobby’s tongue fucked his new friend into a restful peace. It was an act of friendship, an act of love, so different from the ass sucking of the past few weeks, the countless assholes the twelve-year-old had been forced to clean with his boy tongue.
Sometime later, the boys were roused from their reverie by Carlos shouting from the front. Bobby eased his tongue out of Pete’s asshole and sat up. Bobby’s hard prick flopped against his tummy.
“Roadblock ahead, three cars and Burke’s Jeep.”
Carlos slid the car to a sideways halt and turned off the ignition. The sun was high, and the bugs and birds were about their noisy business. A dozen or so armed men crouched behind their vehicles and leveled all kinds of automatic weaponry at the maroon limo. Burke’s voice rang out through the clear summer air.
“Come on, boys, it’s all over. Give yourselves up. You got no place to run.”
“Is it over?” Bobby asked, his lower lip trembling, his toes curled, his tiny fists beating on his hairless naked thighs.
“It ain’t over until the fat fuck sings,” Carlos growled between clenched teeth.
Five minutes later the engine of the maroon limo purred, and the car turned toward the barricade.
“Here she comes,” cautioned one of the officers. “What do we do, Mr. Burke, blow her off the road?”
Burke affirmatively nodded his head.
“The only good runaway kid is a dead runaway kid. Shame to ruin the car, though.
The maroon limo picked up speed.
“She’s gonna ram us,” the officer in charge laughed. “Let’s blow the shit out of her before she’s halfway here.”
The guards raised their weapons. Steady, well trained, efficient, and aching to blow something up.
“Wait a minute, what’s that on the hood of the car?” Burke said.
“Holy fuck, it’s a man, a naked man, lashed to the hood of the car.”
Doc Trotter, wearing a flak jacket and carrying an Uzi scrambled over a car fender to reach Burke.
“Don’t fire, Burke, they got Gaylord Faust tied to the hood of the car.”
“The little fuckers, do they think that will stop us?” the officer in charge laughed.
“It fucking well will,” Burke snapped. “If Gaylord Faust dies or even disappears, you will see a nationwide manhunt the likes of which will wipe Lakeland Academy and all our asses off the face of the earth. Hold your fire. Let them through.”
The maroon limo with the bare-assed tycoon lashed to the hood, dick and balls flopping sped through the barricade and off down the dirt road.
Two days later Gaylord Faust was found in the rear seat of his maroon limo, tied hand, and foot, bare-ass naked with a triple battery flashlight up his asshole. His mouth was stuffed with human shit. He refused any explanation, stating that he had been abducted, but remembered nothing. His commitment to abstain from boy sex lasted precisely three days. After which he fucked the ten-year-old son of a company custodian. Life was once again splendid for Gaylord Faust.
The boy with the lazy, natural stride of a kid with nothing but time went up the steps of the condo. He wore baggy designer jeans, black lace-up boots, a red tank top and a baseball cap on backward. His tanned slender, hairless torso was in the midst of a change from a boy to a well-formed young man, and the single gold earring gave confidence to the soft lines of the face that otherwise might still be that of a little boy. He jiggled one hand around in his pocket and came up with door keys on a silver chain. He entered the condo.
“I’m home,” Bobby called out, tossing his cap onto a chair.
He stretched his lithe form, revealing tufts of newly formed armpit hair. Carlos came out of the kitchen. He wore low-slung baggy jean shorts with his brand name boxer shorts showing above the waistband. His naked torso was well-toned and rippled with muscle. His brown body was clean and smooth, and his well-developed chest sported two huge nipples.
“Hi, baby,” Carlos gave Bobby a big wet sloppy kiss. “How was work?”
Bobby dug into his pants and came up with a roll of bills.
“Nine hundred dollars.”
Carlos took the money.
“Great, how many guys fucked you?”
“Ten, two of them did it twice, and eight loads in my mouth besides the ass stuffing.”
“Great, I told you those gang bang parties brought in big bucks. Got any pussy left for your lover?”
Carlos slid one hand back to squeeze Bobby’s ass.
“Dummy, I’ve always got pussy left for you, although I’d rather have only you fucking me.”
“I know, baby, I would too. You think I like fucking those fat old broads, and those dumb but rich movie starlets, but its money. We got almost two hundred thousand dollars saved up between the underground porno flicks we did and my gigs with the rich old bitches and your ass fucks. Just a year or so more of this and we’ll have enough money to come out of hiding and go wherever we want and do whatever we want. Until then, we’ll both have to settle for sloppy seconds. Go wash the cum out of your ass, and I’ll set the dinner table.”
The two boys kissed long and hard. Carlos tasted cock on Bobby’s lips, and Bobby tasted pussy on his.
“Whose bitch cunt are you?”
“Yours, Carlos, only yours, you can do anything you want with me, you know that.”
Carlos licked the boy’s face.
“I’ve set up a movie for next Tuesday where you’re fucked by an entire black basketball team. Is that okay, baby?”
“Anything you want, Carlos, as long as you love me.”
“I love you more than life, more than sun and moon and earth and sky. I love you more than God.”
Carlos sucked the boy’s face, bathing Bobby in the spit. They swapped spit. Then Bobby slid off his clothes and naked with cum running from his boy ass walked toward the bathroom.
“Oh, yeah, lover, we got a postcard from Pete. He’s coming up from Mexico to visit next week. He’s bringing his Dobermans.”
Bobby stopped at the bathroom door, a big smile on his darling face. He cupped his nuts and squeezed, then he ran a finger between his legs and scooped up some of the leaking cum. He wiped it across his lips.
“I know what the fuck that means. It means I won’t get any rest. You’ll have me and those mutts putting on shows for you all night.”
With that, Bobby shoved three fingers up his own asshole.
“Nobody does it better, baby, as long as you’re happy.”
“I’m very happy, only sometimes I think of, you know, Lakeland, and I wish I could help the kids who are still there.”
“Nothing we can do, baby. We can’t trust anybody, not the police, not the newspaper. We just don’t know who’s in their back pocket, but someday, someday when we have money and means…someday.”
“Someday,” Bobby said to himself in the shower scrubbing his beautiful boy body clean of the afternoon fucks. The shower door slid back, and a naked Carlos slid in beside him under the powerful spray.
Bobby blinked his big eyes. That devilish smile played the corners of his mouth. One hand found the huge fat throbbing prick of the Latino stud.
“I couldn’t wait. I gotta fuck you now.”
And he did—several times.
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