A Few Drops In Their Drink; Some Fawning From A Photographer—they Always Agree To Have A Few Photos

Sometimes a shirt is an inspiration. The client who purchased this guy keeps him silvery skinned and bald headed.

I had never considered it before, but I was out for a night walk and passed this guy. We crossed paths in the light of a neon sign and he gave me a look. I stopped and stood there for just a moment. Immediately, he took me inside, strapped me down and stuffed me with so much I don’t even know how many. When they finally finished, I was sad. Eventually I fell asleep and was so happy to wake up to a couple guys stuffing me, again. It all happened that quickly, too. Just one day and I never wanted to go back. The best part was that even weeks later, they showed no sign of wanting me to leave. Not that I really knew who "they" were. Whoever "they" were, they were always finding more to stuff me.

I put on my jumper just to show my roommate how visible my cock was.

He laughed and took photos while I stood there. I didn’t understand what was so funny, but I was also unaware of what he’d put in my drink and what he’d sprinkled on the jumper without my noticing, just before I put it on.

As I stood there, my visible cock visibly stiffened. While I still believed I was just waiting for him to be done, I was actually waiting for my master to give me my first command.

Finally, he commanded me. “Off.” he said. “All of it.” I stripped naked and waited for whatever commands my master had for me and I did so hope they involved his cock.

Sometimes it's fun to watch the awkward stages during training. He's still a bit phobic about his attraction to other men.

He’s nervous. A team full of potential additions to our collection, but he’s the one that got the pre-game cup of sports drink with the drops in. The embarrassment over his rock hard, undeniably immediate man-lust (exacerbated by the rest of his delicious team) will cause him to ask for a replacement, so he can go back to the locker room and try to take care of himself.

We have a hook waiting in the locker room. A naked, delectable hunk of hairy man who’ll be very happy to help this poor guy get his rocks off and back out on the field.

It won’t be so easy as that. After the target ejaculates, he’ll quickly find he’s still immensely eager for another fuck. As the target fucks himself into a daze, more of our hooks will join them, sexing our target into exhaustion. Exhausted and still trying to fuck, the hooks will begin fucking him. Exhausted as he will become, his holes will be easy to penetrate. The target’s own pelvis will continue to thrust; he won’t stop trying to fuck a hole until he loses consciousness. His attention will be consumed by the men that surround him and he won’t notice as they carry him to waiting transportation. Such physically active targets usually last until long after they get where we’re taking them before falling asleep; their dick in a hole, dicks in their holes.

The whole time they sleep, the hooks will not stop fucking him. By the time he rouses from that sex-dream filled slumber, the immediate drugs will have worn off, but the bliss they remember and the constant fucking from the day before will be the base for the training that begins (continues?) as soon as they wake up.

Hehe. Fuzzy. He was fuzzy. Things were fuzzy. His mind was fuzzy. Coach had recommended the one-on-one training. There had been exhausting physical training and a lot of juice. Hehe. Juice. Kevin wanted more juice. He’d been a little lightheaded so coach put him in the shower. The water was so good he even drank some. Now the shower was done and his towel was slipping off. Coach was just standing there. Standing there with his big hard dick Kevin was sure would be juicy if Kevin worked on it long enough. Kevin wanted to salivate all over coach's juicy cock. Kevin wanted to work on coach’s cock more than anything in the world.

It was very clear when you signed up to live in this dorm: everyone cleans up their own mess. You only get so many chances. If someone comes after you and there’s a mess in the way, you could get removed.

It wasn’t about sex, at first. Except, you didn’t really remember that, anymore. You just remembered this is what you agreed to. You lived here, you were fed, you were taken care of, and you were filled with the cum of every other resident — only you never really knew just how many roommates there were to a room… or how many rooms there were… It was hard to think about. The easy thing to think about was how much you preferred swallowing cock than sitting on it. Most cum always leaked out and you had to lick it up, anyway - but any chance at all to love your brothers’ cock was bliss.

You sat around, sometimes, while the guys were all at class. They took you to the park, sometimes, but the times when everyone’s classes left you alone … you almost remembered your classes; the ones you dropped, because you loved cock and you wanted to be there for your brothers. You agreed to it, of course. It was important for everyone to be responsible for their own mess. … then there was that day, one of the guys masturbated. Everyone said it once in a while, how they hadn’t been laid recently; but one of your brothers just got worse and worse, until one day, he announced he was just going to masturbate. The guys that were home … didn’t really mind. You all understood.

But then he came all over the floor and had to clean it up. He licked up some of it, because an older brother told him protein like that really shouldn’t go to waste. Everyone cleans up their own messes. The brothers were okay, as long as he didn’t leave it behind. He did that for a few days, too. Then came the time you were sitting next to him when he masturbated. He turned to you, the rookie, and begged you to help out an older brother. You agreed and jerked him off. You jerked him off as his breathing quickened and his muscles flexed and he ejaculated. Cum streaming out of his cock, as per usual, only it all landed on you. You kept jerking his cock as stream after stream erupted and left globs and ribbons on your arms and shirt. You kept jerking his cock until his muscles finally relaxed and his orgasm was over.

Then, it was one of the other brothers who told you to clean up the mess you made, jerking him off. You began licking it up, where you could. You raised your shirt, so you could suck it out of the cloth. Was this really the first time? How long had this gone on? You didn’t know. You just remembered you agreed to it. So when more of your brothers began to jerk off in the common room, you helped them, they came on you and you licked it up. It was you who said they should just stick it down your throat, directly. Not a drop of protein to waste and it was hard to get the cum out of the carpet, no matter how much you licked at the spot.

This was no fellatio, though. You were not the one in control of the cock entering you. This was pure irrumatio. Your mouth stayed open for any brother … or any cock … that needed his release. There were brothers, tho, that preferred your asshole. They liked the feel of it. They liked the positions for fucking you. It all went in your hole, of course. The brothers never made a mess of their own cum. When it leaked, you had to lick it up, so you … your love was for swallowing cock. Glock, glock, glock was the sound when the brothers had you nice and opened up for the day. You slimed all over the place, but nobody paid attention to that part. You failed to pay attention to that part, you just made sure the cum went back in you.

When you slept, the brothers cleaned up their part of the mess. You slept wherever a brother had you sleep. Sometimes just dozing on a sofa, often times cuddling one of your brothers. They didn’t sleep naked, though; only you did that. Your belongings were traded and sold. Your clothes, a thing of the past. You loved it here with your brothers. You were happy every time one of them came through the door. You were a good boy. You didn’t talk as much. You knew your brothers by their smell as much as by their name, but you never spoke of either. You had forgotten your own name. You responded to “hear boi”, but you knew that “cum dump” was you, because you are for cock.

The orchard is very big. The workers who harvest the fruit need something to relax now and again. For that you hire us. Our men roam the fields with little or nothing on, waiting to do whatever the farm hand wants or needs.

He grabs your head. They are ready for you. You are ready for them.

You have given yourself to them. They will give their cum to you. Day in, day out, their erections will fill you with cum.

The last thing he did deliberately was enter the building. The receptionist apologized for blindsiding him with a spritz in the face. It smelled musky and thick, unpleasant and made him wince, but didn’t last long. In truth, by the time the receptionist was done apologizing, the unpleasant aspect of the aroma was gone; and as he stared at the receptionist’s face, all he could think of was men. The two of them were men. Sure men of the clothes, but underneath it, too. He didn’t know what the receptionist said and tried to say something. There was only one thing his men could say about the next thing on his men.

In fact, by the time the receptionist had finished apologizing, the Tools that landed on his skin and were inhaled directly to his lungs were having their effect on him. Few men have tried to describe it while it happens, but many more have simply watched the change that happens to them. The most concentrated doses have a proven effectiveness in mere seconds. Maybe not sexual at first, but almost always immediately any change is recognized. How long before he manages to get one of his holes onto a cock varies by circumstance, but in the building, there are enough men willing to help a guy out.

The receptionist smiles as the man opens his mouth and says “fuck” as he tries to remember. The receptionist guides him a little. “Men?” He smiles wide at the word and relaxes, letting out a breath. “Yes, men. My … in my…” he’s a bit confused, now, though. He’s not sure where some of the thoughts are leading him, but it’s very clear: “men in me.” The receptionist smiles, reaching a hand over the counter and guiding him to the end. “Absolutely, sir. You are for cock.” It’s an epiphany to hear the word. Right after that, the receptionist emerges from the end of the desk and he can see the man isn’t wearing anything more than his shirt; and he has a penis showing, hanging below the hem. “I am for cock.” He stares for just a moment, the clarity ringing in his head, reverberating, filling him with cock in the final rewrite of his brain to yearn for cock inside his holes. He didn’t notice anyone messing with his pants, but when he bent down to put the reception… the re… he put the man’s cock in his mouth and pulled the shirt out of his way, feeling someone spread his cheeks and begin licking his ass.

Some time later, he was on his back on a bed, between those two men, being pounded and filled by their cocks.the only pause was when they changed positions, sometimes one of his holes got a break for a few minutes, but one of them was thrust full of cock. Even when, hours later, one of them finally brought himself over the edge to spray him with cum, there was another man waiting to join, getting undressed behind him. As long as he was being filled with cock, he was happy.