This story is a very over the top work of fantasy, and it contains extreme humiliation, ws, unsafe sex practices. Please don't read if it's not your cup of tea.
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The next few days I struggled to return to normalcy. I tried to focus on work. Went to the gym. I got a new phone, ordered a new credit card. But it was impossible to not think about what Mel had done to me.
He had stripped me, spanked me, shaved me, sodomized me. Stolen my clothes and my wallet, sent me home bare ass naked after making me root around a dirty alley and dumpster for my keys. And I had let him do this to me at every step. Given myself up to him entirely. I tried to put it out of my head, but my own body betrayed me with little reminders.
For instance, as I sat in my office chair each morning, I struggled to find a comfortable position - my rump was still bright red from the long, brutal spanking he had given me. A spanking that had destroyed all my resistance, left me red-faced and sobbing like a little boy.
My boss, Steve Kennedy, clamped down on my shoulder and said "What's the matter son, ants in your pants?"
What's worse, as a result of the 50 minutes of butt-fucking from Mel's massive rod, using the bathroom was painful for the first two days, then noticeably strangle-feeling for three more. My nipples were an angry red, extremely sensitive and still raw, causing me to gasp if I touched them while getting dressed.
I could not recognize myself. Each time I saw my bare shaven body in the shower, so smooth and white, my stomach would drop and my face would redden. I spent a lot of time looking at myself naked in the mirror, both horrified and thrilled by my transformed body. Losing the coating of light brown hair that had covered my legs and arms, losing my chest air, pubes and even my armpit hair, had drastically changed my appearance. I felt that I looked younger, softer, weaker.
Even my hairless forearms were a reminder. My watch looked strangely feminine against my bare wrist. Shaking hands with men I was conscious of my dainty, hairless wrists in contrast to their manly, hairy wrists, and wondered if they noticed the stark difference. The difference between a man and a boy.
Mel had stripped me of all body hair below my ears. I was self-conscious at the gym, revealing my shaven limbs in my exercise clothes. I was still shocked each time I went to the urinal and pulled out my penis, as I was no longer greeted by the sight of the brown pubic bush I had had since puberty. Just a white strip of naked flesh, the same I had seen when I was a boy. Sometimes if a bathroom was crowded I would just go to a stall, squat to pee like a woman. As if I didn't deserve to be up at the urinal with the real men and their full bushes.
I also felt deeply paranoid- could men perceive these changes in me? Were their friendly smiles actually knowing smirks? Did they know what Mel had done? I know it was ridiculous, and that the guy at the bodega didn't know I had been butt-fucked. But in those following days I found it excruciating to look another man in the eyes. It was especially bad at the courthouse, as during my ordeal Mel had continuously joked and threatened me that he would be showing the photos and videos he took to the men there.
Worst of all, there was the horniness. I couldn't stop thinking about his fat red cock. Its depth in me, its thickness. His rough hands squeezing my body, feeling all over me. The heat of his huge hairy form up against mine, consuming me. As awful as it was, I wanted him again.
Two days after the my visit to his apartment, my hard-on wouldn't go away. After work I stripped down, set up on my bed with my laptop, moisturizer and tissues at the ready. I played a cuckold porn I favored. While I enjoyed the look of abject humiliation on the spectating cuckolds face, I felt little looking at the hotwife being seduced. I wanted it to be the cuckold being defiled, and not by the tanned, tattooed porn-perfect body of the bull, but by someone older and nastier. Someone like Mel. I entered the appropriate search terms and found a gay porn of a fat old Daddy violating a younger guy. I also decided that I was masturbating too much like a man. That Mel would not approve, if he knew. Using first my fingers and then the back end of a hairbrush I wet with my spit, in no time I was penetrating myself on all fours, humping the air, focusing on my backside more than my dick. I came all over the side of the bed where I slept, then fell down into my mess. I was baffled by the change Mel had made in me over only a few hours.
Five days after our meeting, he sat next to me on a bench as I read through a file. The presence of his big body next to mine made me shudder- he was pressed up against me even though there was plenty of space to his left. He patted my knee and I flinched at his touch.
"Morning counselor. Been keeping out of trouble?" I ignored him, eyes fixed to the paper in front of me. He leaned in close, whispering into my ear.
"I think you might need another bare bottom spanking, boy. I sure know I need another slice of that yummy peach pie." He put his arm around my shoulder. I cringed as I let his arm rest there, its heft pinning me to my seat on the bench.
He showed his phone to me, hitting play on a video file. My stomach dropped as I watched myself bounce on his cock, butt naked, my red, flushed face clearly recorded on the mirror opposite of his bed. My little hard-on spinning around ridiculously with each of Mel's manful thrusts. His phone seemed to be at full volume, amplifying his deep grunts and my high-pitched moaning. The contrast between our bodies was ridiculous. A big fat man and a mewling little bitch.
"Whenever I want it, I get it. Right?" I nodded meekly.
"Come to my place after work, or I'll show this little video to Steve Kennedy. " He ordered, invoking the name of my boss. My face flushed.
"6pm. We're gonna have ourselves a party." He left me sitting there, red-faced and rock hard in my trousers.
That evening I delivered myself to his apartment. Mel was sitting in his arm chair, wearing a bath robe, glass of whiskey in his hand. He peered at me through his eyeglasses.
"Strip." He commanded. I quickly undressed without a word, folding my clothes in a neat pile atop my shoes, my 5-inch boner bobbing around ridiculously as I dropped my underwear.
He beckoned me over, and once I was within reach he threw my naked body over his lap. The big man positioned me where he wanted me, my upturned rear-end squarely on his lap, and he let loose with a rain of blows. Alternating between each cheek, he laid down about forty thunderous claps. At twenty I was wailing. I began to struggle and squirm in his grasp, crying out in anguish at each blow. This prompted him to laugh, pin me down, and spank me harder. He slowed down, then gave me 10 last ones at full force, hard as hell. I cried out pitiably at each one. Once again I had wet this man's lap with my tears.
