Gay Erotic Stories

All the while Scott was being savaged Fat Sam kept up his running commentary to Jack who had two more “accidents” all over Sam’s lap. Each time Sam made Jack crawl down and lick up his “mess.” Then he continued to point out to Jack what a cunt Scott was. Toward the end of the session Fat Sam called over Jaws and had him suck off Sam’s very hard fat dick. Jack did his best to help by licking Sam’s balls. Every hour Sam gave Jack another injection; a mixed cocktail of drugs to keep him horny as hell and higher than a kite.

After a total of four hours Sam told his men to “straighten up.” Scott thought he was going to get a few minutes peace. Boy was he mistaken.

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It was about 6 PM on Saturday and Scott had been “at it” since 5 AM., when Fat Sam had first entered this room. Scott’s body was terribly sore and he was exhausted. Welts and bruises were rising everywhere; his arms were numb from being cuffed behind his back; his asshole was open and a steady stream of slimy body goop was leaking out and running down Scott’s legs; his painfully erect prick was banded with whip marks and his balls were swollen and throbbing; his leg muscles were having trouble holding up his weight in this bent over position, and just as Sam had ordered his goons to “straighten up” Scott saw a chance to rest so he let his body fall onto the matt. As soon as he made contact Sam yelled for a pair of his men to “clean up and clean out his pussyboy.”

Sam said, “My boys are going to get you ready to entertain some horny college men who’ve been waiting for two hours to get laid. Did you hear me Scottie? I had my guys round up a dozen or so big strong muscle bound football type college men who came down here to TJ for some cheap pussy. In the last couple hours we’ve been getting them all liquored up. Of course I added some Viagra, a dash of real honest-to-god Spanish Fly, a pinch of methamphetamine and a touch of LSD. That combination should make them hot and hard and horny and pretty mean to boot. When they find out their cheap pussy isn’t of the female variety; when they find out their free ass is actually a fucked-out, cum-hungry, jismbag, bottom boy, well I’d imagine it’s gonna make them pretty irritable. Golly, Gee Scott I’d hate to be you, trying to placate twelve horny, crazed young men with sex on the brain…twelve of them and only one of you. Wow, that’s tough. Are you absolutely certain you wouldn’t like Jack to help; maybe give a little head, or a few handjobs? I don’t think he’d mind… hell, I don’t think he’d even know what’s going on.”

Scott was still adamant, “No please Sam, let me be the… your pussyboy. I’ll do it all. Leave Jack out of it.”

And with that two of Sam’s blond boys, the blond-blond and the brown-skinned Latino, pushed Scott out of the room and down the hall.

The blond-blond said, “Chee…rist! Do you ever stink! And you look like shit.”

They turned a corner and cut through a huge storage room till they got to a loading dock. There was a drain in one corner and a hose. The blond pushed Scott over the drain and forced his cuffed arms as far up behind his back as possible. Scott had to bend at the waist and get up on his toes to accommodate this very painful position. The Latin goon unceremoniously grabbed the hose and forced it up Scott’s ass. The metal end was cold and hurt like hell. Scott made a loud gasp. Then the creep raping Scott with the hose opened the valve wide and ice cold water shot into his guts. He instantly doubled over with agonizing cramps as the freezing liquid forced its way into his bowels and rapidly filled his abdomen. Scott screamed. The pain was pure agony; it felt like a razor blade enema; his belly began to hideously distend. Scott bellowed and began to beg the men to stem the flow before they ruptured his guts and killed him. They both laughed and Scott was certain he was about to die. He continued to howl; he looked truly pregnant, and as his body began to convulse the Latino yanked the hose out of Scott’s ass. The cold water erupted from Scott’s hole like a geyser; it shot six feet across the room. Scott was wrecked; he sobbed like a child. Just as the stream of water began to abate the Latino rammed the still running hose back into Scott’s asshole; his legs gave out and Scott dislocated his right shoulder as he fell onto the concrete. Scott lost complete control; his eyes rolled back into his head and his body seized; he was out cold. The hose operator pulled it out of Scott’s ass and let the water drain out. It ran crystal clear, except at the very end when some bright red blood followed out the last of the water.

Sam’s men took advantage of Scott’s unconscious state. They took off his right handcuff and laid him on his back. The blond-blond sat on Scott’s chest as the Latino grabbed his right arm at the wrist. He put his foot in Scott’s armpit and began to pull on Scott’s arm with all his weight. Scott woke up screaming as his right shoulder popped back into its proper joint socket. While he continued to scream Sam’s men pulled Scott’s arm behind his back and re-cuffed him. It hurt like bloody hell; his rotator cuff began to swell and throb. The two muscle studs stood Scott over the drain and began to hose off the outside of his body. The freezing water actually refreshed Scott; his teeth began to chatter. When the men were fairly certain that Scott was as clean as they could get him they finally turned off the water.

The dark-skinned creep said, “There now, that wasn’t so bad now was it?”

Under any other circumstances; even in his totally weakened state; even with his hands cuffed behind his back; even with every inch of his body screaming in pain Scott would have attacked his tormentors. He’d have used his teeth and his hips and his feet to inflict as much damage as possible before they put him out of commission. He figured that he could probably kill at least one of these goons and probably break the other’s arm or leg. He was a well-trained combatant and he was in tiptop physical condition. BUT Fat Sam had Jack; he had Jack; he had Jack; he had Jack; he had Jack. Shit, fuck, piss!! Thoughts of attack were no more than a daydream, wishful thinking. So Scott did as he was told.

All “cleaned out and cleaned up” Scott was marched back into the building; water still dripping off his head and leaking from his sopping bush. They didn’t lead him back to that same torture room; instead they pushed him down another corridor and into a small anteroom. Scott could hear voices and noise coming from an adjoining room. It put the fear of God into him and he felt the dread in his heart rising. One of Sam’s men cracked open the door. Scott saw into the large barroom-nightclub. On the opposite wall was a long bar with a large mirror behind it and bottles stacked everywhere. There were several small round tables surrounding a circular area, maybe a dance floor; in the center there was a large silver poll that went from floor to high ceiling. The boys who were hooting and hollering were sitting all around that center ring slugging down beer and shots of whiskey. Scott did a double take…

Christ they were big guys; tall and made out of cement. As they shouted they stood up; two big guys slapped each other hard and laughed; three other guys pounded their muscled chests together full force and cheered. They were all yelling for PUSSY!! PUSSY!! PUSSY!! PUSSY!! The air was thick with the smell of men and male pheromones and jock straps and cum. It had these young animals rutting and needing to fuck. Scott looked around for somewhere to hide. A spotlight went on and hit the small stage at the end of the room. Fat Sam walked to the mike. The really odd thing was that he didn’t look like a monster. He looked like a well-dressed businessman, neat with crisply defined features, a tip top body and perfect posture. His salt and pepper hair was in perfect order and gave his angular face a distinguished appearance. He was a good-looking man. Sam took the microphone and talked to the gathering of beasts. Something in Sam’s aura changed…Christ he was the devil incarnate.

Sam shouted over the PA system, “Boys! Boys! I know you’ve been waiting a long time and I must apologize. I promised you free pussy and I had every intention of following through… “

The young studs heard Sam’s words and began to grumble and growl.

He continued, “I intended to bring you three fine young sluts who wanted their pussies filled with young American college meat. They were thrilled at the idea of sucking your cocks and having you fuck them all night long…”

And the mob began to yell things… Like, “So where are they? Where’s the free pussy? I want some PUSSY! Where are the women? …and… Bring out the whores!”

Sam said, “Boys, boys I won’t let you go away disappointed. I promised you free pussy and that’s what you’re going to get but there’s been a little change in plan. I have one overeager whore who wants to do you all. This cumslut wants you all; the cockhungry bitch wants to take you all on. And this slut wants to work alone.”

And the overheated animals began to cat call and yell, “Bring her out. We’ll wear out her pussy. We’ll fuck her to death. Bring the bitch out. Bring that fucking pussy out so we can fuck her good. Bring her out! Bring her out! Bring her out! Bring her out! Bring her out! Bring her out!”

Sam gestured over to his men and they dragged Scott into the middle of the room and pushed him up against the poll. Then they cuffed his ankle to a ten-foot chain and attached it to the poll. Once he was tethered they took off the handcuffs.

The guys went crazy, “What the fuck? That’s a fucking guy. We’re not fags. Where’s the sluts. We want pussy. Bring her out! Bring her out! Bring her out! Bring her out!”

Sam turned up the mike and the evil in him erupted, “Boys, boys he may look like a man, but he’s 100% pussy. Please take my word for it. He thinks he can do a better job than any cunt. He’s a cock hungry slut. And boy’s I’ve seen him work. I know he’s a guy but take my word for it he can suck dick better than any three women you know. And he’s got a trained asshole. He can use his ass like a whore’s pussy. I swear to god I’ve seen him in action and I have never, never had a single complaint. If you’re pissed that he’s a cock hungry fag then kick the shit out of him before you fuck his ass. If you’re flaked that he sent those female whores home so he could have you all for himself then degrade the hell out of him. Make him sorry for wrecking your fun. Boys HE told me to send the whores home. HE said you wouldn’t mind. HE said he’d do whatever it took to make you all happy AND--HE”S willing to do anything. ANYTHING!! He doesn’t care about pain, or degradation. Kick his balls; piss on him; fist fuck him; beat his ass; fuck him upside down; cum in his mouth, in his ass, in his face, in his ears, under his arms, up his nose. He’ll thank you for every rotten thing you do to him; the lousier the better; the more degrading the more he’ll kiss your ass or lick your feet. Now boys, try him out. Don’t just leave. I’ll keep the booze and beer flowing AND my men are going to supply you with sex toys and whips and lots of fun things to make this slut sorry for insisting that the women leave. Later on they’ll be free food. Also, there are showers and free towels down the hall, so feel free to take frequent breaks to rest and refresh yourselves. Take your time, eat and drink, talk to your buddies, then fuck his ass again. If you need to take a piss, why not piss down his throat, or piss on his head. Look fellas, you’re college men. You’ve smart guys. Why am I telling you how to have a good time? You’re down here in TJ where anything goes. Hell, you can fuck him to death if you want. He doesn’t care. I don’t care. The Mexican cops don’t care. So guys have a ball.”

And they became a wild mob of oversexed animals. Hands grabbed Scott everywhere; in a second they had him off his feet and in the air. They forced him over a table and in a minute there was a hard dick up his ass and two more pushing into his mouth. Both his hands were placed on pricks and Scott began to jerk them off as he struggled to keep from screaming. Large hands began to wallop his ass full force. He almost bit the cocks in his mouth; they were instantly removed and a guy grabbed his face and looked him in the eyes.

He said, “You bite my dick and I’ll tear yours off. I’ll fucking tear it out by the root you goddamned faggot.” And the cocks were shoved back into Scott’s mouth.

The huge hands came down on his ass again and again. Scott couldn’t see but his butt was turning bright red; soon it would be quite black and blue… and if the linebacker kept up the walloping it would wind up more black than blue. Scott sucked fat cocks; he sucked skinny cocks; he sucked cocks that hit the back of his mouth and gagged him; he sucked cocks that went down his throat and choked him. The pricks filled his mouth and covered his face with hot slimy cum and warm foul smelling jiz and sweet tasting juice and bitter as poison prickscum. He swallowed and swallowed and there was always more. He sucked cocks that were smooth as silk and others covered with hair, cut dicks and pricks with big floppy foreskins. Dick after cock after joint after prick after prong after knob after pecker after dick. He thought he might lose his mind.

Meanwhile his ass was taking a beating from the same assortment of battering rams. The biggest of the football players, Mike, was nearly seven feet tall; weighed in at 375 pounds; and had the biggest prong that Scott had ever seen. Thankfully the giant had a kind heart and was kind of feeling sorry for the guy getting the shit fucked out of him. The huge kid held his foot long log between his hands and only pushed the head into Scott’s mouth. Even so Scott had a hell of a time getting his lips around that colossal nozzle; mostly Scott did a lot of licking and sucked the end of the massive knob. As the monster came he collected his huge load in his hand instead of shooting all over Scott’s face or into his mouth. When he finished coming he let Scott drink the palm full of thick lather. Later on the huge guy made sure that Scott’s asshole was good and stretched by his teammates before he fucked him. Even so when the huge guy started to fuck Scott it felt as thought that massive prick was going to split Scott’s whole body down the middle any second; the pain was so bad that he saw stars.

When all of the guys had fucked Scott’s ass and most of them had also screwed his mouth two of Sam’s goons dragged him back to the loading dock for another inside-outside freezing cleanup-cleanout. Scott was actually relieved by the icy water. In spite of the razor sharp cramps and the misery of being treated like an animal the cold shower-enema took his mind off of the agony his body was suffering, the cuts, the bruises, his aching prick, his swollen balls, his wounded nipples, etc. etc. etc. One thing concerned him. It felt like half his rectum was hanging out his asshole. It flapped around when he walked. It scared him to death. He couldn’t work up the nerve to reach behind himself and feel what they’d done to his hole.

When the goons dragged Scott back and re-tethered him to the poll, the college guys were getting more and more drunk, louder and louder. Most of them were half dressed, many had taken their pants and shorts off, and others were completely naked. The club looked like a locker room.

The guys were basking in the afterglow and instead of resuming their fuck-suck schedule they became playful. Two of the sadistic frat guys tied each of Scott’s balls with a piece of heavy twine; then they tied the right ball to Scott’s right big toe and his left ball to his left big toe. At first they kept the twine taut between balls and toes so that as they led Scott around the poll he had to walk carefully or risk yanking his nuts connected to his toes. Twenty minutes later the twine had been shortened by six inches. Scott had to squat; if he stood up he’d pull his balls off. The guys loved it. They grabbed two riding crops and thwacked Scott’s ass to make him “walk.” He had to kind of waddle with his knees bent in the squatting position. They forced him to keep his hands at his sides. When he tried to use his arms for balance they’d whip his back. They wanted him to move faster so they whacked the shit out of his ass. They had him fetch and carry things from one guy to another. While he squatted they shoved their feet into his mouth and forced him to lick them clean. One after another they grabbed his hair and pulled him around or beat his ass with the whip. Then more feet. When his mouth started to dry out the guys took turns spitting into it and if Scott wasn’t fast enough at “opening wide,” they’d grab one of the toe-ball strings and give it a good pull. That got his mouth open fast. More feet, more yanks, more thwacks with the whip. Scott began to cry. That really fired them up. They took turns slapping his squatting ass. Tom, the bastard, roughly stuck three fingers up Scott’s ass and moved them all around. His hole was loose and sweaty. When Tom had a load of ass slime he pulled his hand out and shoved it into Scott’s mouth.

All he said was “CLEAN!”

And Scott obeyed. He had no choice. He wanted to die. He hoped they would kill him. He wasn’t that lucky.

Twice, as they kicked him around, he almost pulled his balls off. He kept gagging and almost vomited several times. When they got bored with torturing Scott this way they moved on to more creative misery.

Of course the “ring leader” of this group of steroid cases was a tall good looking red head named Tom. The guys all respected him and listened to him. Truth be told they were all frightened of him. He had a sadistic nature and a penchant for cruel jokes and painful pranks. No one wanted to mess with Tom or wind up in his sights; he could make your life hell on a whim. Well Tom came up with an idea. He put Scott on his knees and lined up five of his teammates, bare-assed. He had his guys, one at a time, put their ass in Scott’s face. He had the guys reach behind themselves and spread their cheeks apart so Scott could get right into their assholes; then he told Scott the rules of the game. First Scott was going to sample each guy’s asshole; lick it; suck it; tongue it inside and out; till he had the flavor in his mouth. Then the next guy would get into place and Scott would repeat the procedure. The object was to get to know each asshole’s distinctive flavor and or smell. Scott was going to sample each guy’s ass twice; each time he’d taste the guy’s ass and pair it with the guy’s name. Once that was completed Tom let Scott know they were going to blindfold him. Then he was going to have to identify each guy by the taste and or smell of his hole. If he got the answer right then they’d move along to the next man; if he got it wrong Tom said they would have to punish Scott, and he left it at that. The idea revolted Scott. As for the guys, they were pretty drunk so they didn’t care plus they didn’t want to fuck with Tom so they went along.

One by one Scott got to lick and suck each player’s backfield until he felt ready to move on to the next. He hated it, but he didn’t want any more abuse; his body was screaming in pain; he was swollen and sore and he ached and throbbed from head to toe. All his hypnotic training was of no use to him. He couldn’t send his mind away; he had to stay alert and pay attention in order to stay alive; so he had to endure the symphony of pain. Scott tongued and licked and sucked on the first guy’s hole. He dragged his licker all around the pucker, and then pushed inside a little. The kid wiggled and moaned and began to pant. After a few minutes Scott began to think he might actually be able to sense a difference between men. This first guy, Jim, tasted very salty all around his hole, plus he was very hairy, and he smelled like garlic. Scott began taking mental notes. The second guy, Ken, was almost hairless and smelled like stale crotch and a hint of piss. Number three, Billy, also had a hairy hole but the hair was in tight curls and his hole tasted sour, very sour. The fourth player, Bobby, had a pimple next to his hole; Scott didn’t need anything else, but for good measure he remembered that the guy’s whole ass had no taste at all. The fifth and final guy was the giant, Mike; no problem here, the guy’s pucker was as big as the rest of him and it had deep grooves going round the hole….. and no particular taste. Scott repeated the disgusting procedure a second time, licking and sucking, as Tom gave him orders; he was grateful that the athletes showered three or four times a day, at least their assholes were fairly clean. Then he was blindfolded.

A hand grabbed Scott’s head by the hair and shoved it forward into the first hot wet, mystery ass crack. He stuck out his tongue and began to explore. The pucker was small and round, no strong taste or smell then his tongue hit a bump. BINGO! Scott pulled his head back and said, “It’s Bobby.”

The next hole smelled like stale piss and was almost hairless. Scott said, “It’s Ken.”

Tom’s annoyance grew as Scott got the answers right. He reached over and grabbed one of the linemen who was pantless. He motioned for him to shove his ass into Scott’s face. When Scott moved into the ass the rank odor of cum and piss and raunch made him draw back. Tom forced Scott’s head back in until his nose was pushing into the mystery man’s wretched asshole.

Tom said, “Okay faggot, who is it?”

Scott was at a loss, this ass reeked of piss and god knows what else.

Tom said, “Get that tongue out and taste this hole. How are you going to figure out who it is if you don’t taste it good?”

Scott complied. The hole was covered in thick matted hair and tasted awful, rancid, putrefied, and horribly bitter. Scott made a guess, “Is it Billy?”

Tom yelled, “Wrong asswipe. Time for your punishment!”

Tom made Scott stand up straight, took off his blindfold, and ordered each player to give him a good shot in the gut; so one at a time the guys moved in front of Scott and punched him in the stomach hard. Scott was in prime condition, but all day and all night Sam’s “people” had been beating him up. His midsection was very sore and bruised. Every punch whacked the wind out of his lungs and nearly knocked him unconscious. By the fifth blow he was doubling over and having more and more difficulty recovering. The tenth wallop sent him to dreamland. Scott woke up gagging and choking. Tom was pissing into his open mouth and up his nose. He sputtered and spit out the piss. Tom let his stream of dark yellow fluid move up and down Scott’s body. He was covered in bruises and abrasions; the urine burned like acid on Scott’s thousands of cuts and scratches. He lay there and the tears began to flow.

That seemed to delight the sadistic kid, “Oh look guys, the big Nellie Belle is crying like the little girl he is. I think he loves us. I think those are tears of joy. I think the fag’s in love. Aren’t you motherfucker? You’re in love with our cocks and our assholes; aren’t you?”

And with that he kicked Scott in the belly; bent down, looked Scott in the eye, coughed up a hawker and spit it into Scott’s face. It hit him just above the lips and hung, thick and milky yellow just under his nose.

He said, “Tongue out fucker! Suck down that phlegm. That’s my special throat scum, my personal snot-slime and it’s all for you fag, and there’s more where that came from so LICK.”

And as Scott tried to lick the disgusting slime off his mouth and lips Scott coughed up two, three, four, more disgusting balls of thick throat snot and spit it at Scott’s face. By the time he finished Scott’s face was covered in a thick coat of the most disgusting sludge he could imagine. As he tried to do what the kid was commanding, Tom started slapping his face and then wiping his hand on Scott’s mouth and hair. Scott, for his part, kept gagging.

Five minutes later Sam’s goons dragged Scott back to the loading dock for a refreshing bout with the hose. Scott had to crawl back to the college boys on his hands and knees. His legs would no longer support his weight. Every time he tried to stand he got dizzy and wound up back on the floor.

The sadistic kid Tom was quick to take Scott from Sam’s men. He pulled Scott by his hair over to the closest table, grabbed him under his arms and threw his upper body over the tabletop.

He spread Scott’s ass and frowned. “Jesus, man he’s all stretched out. How am I going to get a decent ride in a sloppy pussy like that?”

Tom yelled to Bobby, “Get me some rope and cut me a few six foot lengths.”

All the guys were scared of Tom so Bobby complied. Tom took a length of rope and tied Scott’s ankles together tightly; then he took a second piece and tied his legs together at the knees. When he finished he shoved two of his fingers up Scott’s ass. Scott screamed in pain. Tom grinned.

Tom said, “Shut up faggot, we’re almost there.” And with that he took a third piece of rope and tied Scott’s thighs together, and for good measure he tied Scott’s wrists together behind his back (so tightly that Scott’s hands began to turn purple immediately). Then he had Bobby hold Scott by his hair so that he wouldn’t fall off the table. Tom took his overheated prick and tried to ram it into Scott’s ass. With his legs tightly bound Scott was powerless to move or make it easy for Tom’s prick to gain access. Instead Tom kept applying more and more force on Scott’s asshole. As the boy’s cock entered, Scott thought he might die from the pain. It shot through his guts and cut him in half. It felt like Tom was using a blowtorch on his asshole. Once Tom got all the way in he started pounding Scott’s hole. Each stroke hurt like the first. There was no lubrication the cold water had flushed out any cum or natural lube so it was a dry fuck on a very tight hole and Scott hoped he would pass out, pass out or die. He didn’t care anymore.

Tom yelled, “This just isn’t fun. Jim get my belt.”

The boy ran to hand Tom his belt. Tom pushed Bobby away from Scott’s head. He looped the belt around Scott’s neck and used it like a noose to pull on Scott’s neck while he rode his ass.

Tom bellowed, “This is more like it. Get ready Bobby, you’ve got seconds!” And he rode Scott like a bucking bronco. The reason Scott was bucking was that he couldn’t breath. He face turned purple and began to glow blue when Mike the giant took one of his meaty hands and pulled the belt out of Tom’s hands. He opened the loop and freed Scott’s head. Then Mike pushed Tom out and away from Scott’s ass.

Mike said, “This guy has had enough. You’ve going to kill him. I didn’t come to Mexico to kill someone. I came here to have a good time, some laughs, maybe get laid, but this is crazy. We have to stop.”

Fat Sam was in the doorway. He quietly gestured to two of his goons. They walked quietly up behind Mike, stuck a gun in his ribs, and took him away.

Fat Sam spoke to the group, “Boys we’re almost out of time, but I want you to leave here smiling so why don’t you give this slut a good ride, maybe kick the shit out of him for good luck and then I’m afraid we have to close up and clean the place for out next big show. Now you come on back, ya hear?” Then Sam left the room to get back to Jack,

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During the evening Fat Sam had been watching the action on closed circuit TV. He had three of his blonds taping it all with three hidden cameras from three different angles. They got every minute of Scott’s agony. Sam was so happy he felt giddy. Every fifteen or twenty minutes he’d walk back into the show room to watch close up as Scott got his payback. He delighted in every cut and bruise, every pain, every humiliation. When he wasn’t present in the room or watching his jumbo TV he tended to Jack. For his part Jack was still out of it. Sam had been seeing to his “entertainment.” Truth be told Sam was giving serious consideration to keeping the British kid. He was cute as hell with a great body and he was a natural submissive. With minor tenderizing and a little training Sam felt sure the boy would make a perfect dog; a dog or maybe a replacement for Timmy. Sam wondered what the kid sounded like screaming.

Once Scott was out of the way all bets were off. Surely Scott knew that. Sam was no altruist. He was a businessman. Jack would make a good investment. Sam wondered how difficult it would be to hide the controller. Jack was a senior control in the Organization. Those guys were pretty proprietary and paternalistic about their own. Sam figured he’d need to alter Jack’s face, maybe keep his head shaved, get him brown contacts; or better yet why not give the kid a complete makeover. This English boy would make a great looking tranny. Sam could make a fortune off Jackie’s pert ass, and once the kid had a real cunt, the sky would be the limit. That did it for Sam. He was going to schedule the kid’s surgery the minute Scott was out of the way, either dead, or on the next operating table. WOW, wouldn’t they make a great sister act? Sam was positively beside himself with glee…two Organization assholes as his private cuntgirls. It was too good to be true, but he had them. That was a fact. All they needed were tits and vaginas and BINGO Sam’s on easy street.

Sam gestured to one of his guys to take the place of the Mexican blond who’d just come all over Jack’s smiling face. The guy walked over to the single bed where Jack was laid out and flipped the boy onto his back; then he literally dove into the kid’s asshole. It was hot, wet, and still fairly tight. The blond, this one an ex Greek national, hooted and grunted as he fucked Jack hard. Jack was giggling. Before he came, the Greek blond turned Jack over, threw up the boy’s legs and fell into his hole. Jack squealed, “Weeeeeeeee!!!.” They’d been fucking Jack non-stop all evening and he had loved every minute.

Sam watched it all with a huge smile on his face. Yup, this kid was going to be a gorgeous chick, no doubt about it.

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Back in the showroom Tom had once again grabbed Scott by his curly brown hair and dragged him screaming into the center of the floor. Once he got him there he kicked him full force in the solar plexus. Scott curled up into a tight ball and tried his best to breath, but his chest wouldn’t budge. He struggled of air, but none came.

Meanwhile Tom was gathering the remaining players for their farewell to Scott. The boy’s gathered around Scott, still purple and gasping for air. His legs were still tightly bound and he couldn’t move. Tom forced him into a kneeling position. He reached between Scott’s legs and pulled his swollen ball sac out. He took another length of rope and tied it tightly around Scott’s balls. Then he yelled into Scott’s face, “Open you mouth faggot. We’ve got a little pick-me-up drink for you and if you don’t do your best to drink it all down well then I’m going to pull your balls off.” And with that Tom gave the rope a solid yank. Scott screamed.

As he opened his mouth Tom’s stream hit the back of his throat. As he closed his mouth to choke Tom yanked the rope again. Scott stifled his choking and opened his mouth. He did his best to swallow the hot piss as two more streams hit his face. In another minute there were four more jets of hot piss hitting different parts of Scott’s face. It went up his nose and in his ears and in his mouth. It spilled off his chin and drenched his hair. He was in a fountain of piss, swallowing to save his balls. Every time he tried to catch his breath or close his mouth long enough to swallow, Tom yanked the rope and Scott screamed again. He gagged and chokes and retched, but he did it all with his mouth wide open. Soon his stomach began to distend with all the liquid and then two more streams hit his face as others began to slow down. Tom finished pissing first, but he stayed in place holding the rope and making sure that Scott kept drinking. It seemed like hours. Every cut and scratch and bruise on Scott’s badly battered body was shrieking in pain from the stinging urine and the piss just kept on flowing. When it was over Scott lay on the floor drenched in urine lying in a lake of piss. One of Sam’s goons came over and pulled up a small drain cover at Scott’s feet. The excess urine flowed down the drain. The college footballers finished their drinks, got dressed, and waved goodbye to Sam and his men. Tom was half way out the door when he turned as if he’d forgotten something. He ran over to Scott’s crumbled body and kicked him in the nuts.

He said, “Bye-bye faggot. Thanks for the fun. Next time don’t send the real cunts home. Boys get angry when you take their pussy away.” He turned on his heel and marched out the door. You could hear the boys whooping and hollering as they walked out the door and down the street.

Two of the blonds picked up Scott by his hands and feet. They tried not to get the piss on them. They carried him out to the loading dock for a quick shower.

Scott was only dimly conscious. He felt the freezing water, but this time it didn’t bring him back to full consciousness. Off in the distance he could barely make out the figures of Fat Sam and three of his guys. What Scott saw pulled him out of his daze. On the floor in the middle of the men was the boy, Mike. Scott could see where someone had split his skull. Mike’s head was spurting blood, and he was quietly moaning.

Fat Sam was yelling, “I could have made good money off this kid. I told you to rough him up, not to beat him with pipes. Look what you did. He’s no good to me now.” And with that Sam pulled out his gun and put two bullets into the back of the gentle giant’s head. Scott closed his eyes. He wanted to die. He wanted to die. He wanted to die. He wanted to die.

Sam pranced over, looked Scott in the eye, “I don’t want you to think I’m some heartless prick. I’m going to give you a break, a few hours to think, and maybe dream. You’ve got a big show to put on later today. I want you in good order. So enjoy!!”

Sam’s words, what he didn’t say, scared the shit out of Scott. Could it get any worse? It didn’t seem possible. Jesus, could it get worse?

Before Sam’s men untied Scott one of them gave him an injection…. about 10 cc of yellow liquid.

Sam said, “This is my own special formula. You’re gonna love it. Let’s see now; there’s some amphetamines to give you back your strength and wake you up some; sorry I don’t think you need sleep. I want you to think about what you did; how you screwed with me; and what a mistake that was. Now then, there’s also a strong hallucinogen. That’ll give you some interesting um daydreams. I hope it doesn’t drive you over the edge. This particular drug has made a number of people hopelessly psychotic. So buck up you’re in for a hell of a ride. Let me think, OK there’s also some time release adrenalin, that will heighten your anxiety till you think you’re gonna crawl out of your skin, and umm what else, OH sure there’s a healthy dose of progesterone, oxytocin, and a few more hormones to screw with your body’s normal reactions. Your tits should get really sensitive. Your asshole is going to develop a life of its own spasming and going generally nuts and your cock and balls… well they will either get hard or shrivel up and disappear. I don’t actually remember which. It’s been a while since I’ve used this strong a mix and the last couple guys died before I actually got to see all the results. So Scott you try to remember every second, call it medical research. Any questions?”

Scott looked up into Sam’s face, “Please Sam, please just kill me. I don’t care anymore. Please let Jack go and just kill me. Please Sam, please. I have nothing to bargain with, nothing you want. You got your revenge. I’m done--you broke me. I’ll do anything you ask if only you’ll kill me.”

Sam smiled, “You’ll do anything I ask whether I kill you or not, and besides, killing you would be far too easy. There’s no sport in killing a fucked out jizzbag whore. Tell you what, maybe later; after I’m sure you’ve learned your lesson; before your SURGERY, maybe then I’ll show some mercy and kill you. You miserable fuck. LOOK AT ME YOU SUCKING FUCK!! You messed with my livelihood. Nobody does that and lives. You screwed with the wrong motherfucker Scott. You grabbed the tail, now you get the teeth.”

Scott wanted to beg Sam some more but the room was spinning and he couldn’t focus his eyes. That’s when the cockroaches started appearing all over his skin, crawling out of his mouth and his asshole and his ears…AND HE BEGAN TO SCREAM!!!

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