Mel Takes My Manhood Pt. 06

Out in the heat of the summer evening I felt lightheaded and flush. I was desperately horny- generally when Mel used me he enjoyed making me cum. Sometimes he'd laugh at the comparative weakness of my load, but I still got to get off. But twice today I had been used and humiliated by hefty-cocked, domineering older men, the kind that Mel had twisted my mind around to lust after, and both had denied me sexual relief of any kind. I looked at my phone, went through my text messages, hoping for a summons from Mel.

With each step home I was aware of the aching erection in my pants. I had been dominated by two different men, one a virtual stranger and the other one of my newly self-appointed owners. Twice I had been entranced by their hefty cocks, their bountiful manhood. And twice they had left me blue-balled.

At home I stripped naked instantly, resisted the urge to indulge in porn or anything like that. I went to bed, naked atop the sheets, listening to the whir of the air conditioner. My miniature penis leaking all night long as I slept fitfully, dreaming of heavy hanging cocks and bearded bushes.

The next day was a blur. I had to force myself to concentrate at work, though Bob's stern and disapproving glances when he caught me daydreaming helped keep me on task. At midday he pushed up against me while I bent over the copy machine. He pinned me to the piece of office equipment, and I felt the distinct pulse of his hard-on under his suit pants. Bob brought his stubbled jaw up against my ear.

"She liked the salmon last night. I raw dogged her, long and hard. Good job, cuck." He said into my ear, slapping my trousered backside.

"Cuck, boss?" I asked respectfully. He grabbed my hips and spun me around but stayed close up against me, his face inches from mine.

"Yeah, cuckold. You're my little cuck. You don't know? Come on, you're not that stupid. You do all the work and I get all the credit. Here at the office, in court, at home, wherever. I fuck and you get fucked." He gloated, speaking in a low, lusty tone, pushing his groin into mine. He blew his warm coffee breath on my face, and I melted into him, into the embrace of his hands around my waist. If he had pantsed me, stripped me bare ass naked and taken me atop the copy machine right there I would have let him, I was so desperate to be used.

"And I know you like it, cuck. I can feel your little boy pecker popping a stiffy in your pants, cuck." Each time he called me that he punctuated the word, emphasizing the hard "k" sound, spitting it out. He peered down at my tented-up crotch, then looked back at me smugly. He brought his left hand into my face and poked out his pinky daintily, in a mock recreation of my modest erection.

"Yes boss." I said quietly, a restrained moan in my voice. I resisted the urge to bring my lips to his hair-speckled backhand and lick it. Whereas Mel would have applauded such depraved initiative, I knew Bob needed to be in complete control.

"Yeah, that's my good little cuck." He rapidly patted my cheek with enough force in it to jostle my head around. Bob then brought his hands to my neck, adjusting my collar and tie, tucked my shirt back into my waistband where it had loosened, and clapped his hands on my chest.

"Back to work. Get that memo on my desk by COD, we have the Walters trial next week." I nodded, and he strutted off, leaving me flush-faced with my dick throbbing desperately in my pants. I had come into work early to get started on that very task, so thankfully completing my work was the least of my worries.

At 1:30pm sharp I presented myself on the gym floor, having quickly changed from my suit to just socks, shoes and a jockstrap, the obscene outfit my self-appointed trainer, Cliff, had me work out in. By now I was used to the grins, whistling and cooing comments of the regulars as I delivered myself to the stern, shaven-headed older man. We started with squats and I gave each rep all I could, pushing myself to make the most out of the exercise. I worked quickly through each station.

While I added weight to the bar, Cliff noted my zeal with a smirk.

"Damn, what's gotten into you boy? You must really want to look good for your man, huh?" He slapped my exposed bottom, making me bounce on my feet.

"That's right, Coach." At one of our earlier sessions Cliff had decided I'd call him Coach early on, and even back then it had felt natural.

"Well you've made quite a bit of progress boy already in these last few weeks. Your arms and chest have gotten bigger but your legs have really taken off. Your glutes are much bigger and rounder than when we started, eh boy?" He squeezed both globes in his hand, seizing the muscle between his rough hands.

"I know Melvin must love that nice plump can of yours." He grabbed my shoulders and turned me 90 degrees, pushed down to get me to flex my bare ass in front of the mirror. As I took myself in, Cliff beamed back at me in the mirror, smiling with pride at his hand in the creation.

"You've become the perfect little buttboy. Tight body, smooth as a woman, nice strong behind, and a tiny little pecker in front, no bigger than a clit." Cliff reached around my waist and grabbed the meager contents of my mostly empty pouch and shook them with a laugh. Two men watching the spectacle joined him in long peals of hearty laughter.

Initially after that first meeting with Mel, when he had spanked, shaven and sodomized me, the sight of my naked body had made me cringe. For the first two weeks or so, I was shocked by my hairless chest, my bald crotch, my girl-smooth arms and legs, the barren canyon of my pits. Cliff was right though - I had gained muscle, definition, and this was highlighted by the lack of body hair. And he was right that I had most prominently gained muscle in my backside. I had always had what the women I used to date had dubbed a "nice ass" but now it was much bigger, the perky cheeks held high by muscle. It reminded me of the baseball or hockey players I had known in college, who had almost lewdly filled out their jeans or sweatpants.

I was constantly conscious of it, this heavier, wider, firmer mass behind me, carrying it around always, even while fully dressed. I felt the eyes of men and women on it, and shamefully it was now solely the attention of men that gratified and titillated me. Friends and colleagues had commented on my gains. Guys had openly complimented my bigger ass, and it felt like they were only half joking. I was not infrequently patted on my rear end - they figured if I had worked to build it out that I wouldn't mind having it handled by them, that they had license to put their hands on it. Each time I felt an embarrassing little rush.

I had to take my suits into the tailor, an old guy who brought out my waist to accommodate what he happily described as my "bigger rump." I had never been mindful of being checked out before, and now it happened all the time, staring, raised eyebrows, double-takes, even wolf-whistling. At a recent night out with a crowded bar with friends my ass was squeezed no less than four times.

In the elevator on the way back up to my office, I saw a man in the mirrored walls ogle my heinder and I wondered if this was how it felt for a woman with a big rack. A small but mortifying thrill coiled through my body as I stepped out of the car, feeling his eyes still on me.

Back at the office after the workout I couldn't stop thinking about these changes. My whole lower body was tender from Cliff's punishing leg and glute workout, and I sat upon that satisfying soreness. At 5:00pm my phone buzzed, notifying me that Mel would see me outside in half an hour.

He met me on the street, smilingly widely. He grabbed my arm as he walked, pulling me next to him. We were a common pair in the downtown neighborhood near the court, and I think people sizing us up concluded that we were colleagues, perhaps mentor/mentee given the age difference.

Mel talked my ear off about an upcoming case we had against each other, and I just followed along, trembling nervously as I followed at his side. It was almost 90 degrees out and we were both sweating heavily in our suits, but a chill went up my spine as I sensed the direction he was headed. It was apparent that he was leading me back to my own apartment.

My hands shook as I unlocked the door. Once opened Mel pushed right past me. He immediately began looking over everything, opening cabinets and drawers. Inspecting each and every thing I had in my modest one bedroom apartment. It was a swelteringly hot day.

"Strip" he commanded, sounding disinterested, not even looking at me. He lifted a framed photo of me and my brothers from a table, sneering at it. I hastily disrobed, my hands shaking. I hung up the suit and folded my other clothes, returning to stand before him meekly, trembling and but naked.. Seeing Mel in my living room in the same shabby suit he wore most days, leering at me, was jarring. It felt unreal having him here. Like something from a strange dream. My heart was racing.

Mel got two beers from my fridge and opened both. He took a long swig of one and let out a loud belch. He then drank a big gulp from the other beer, but gargled it like mouthwash. He made a show of swishing it around in his mouth, bulging his cheeks out, transferring it from one side to the other, all while looking me in the eye.

Then he grabbed my chin and forced open my mouth, spitting it all down my throat. It was warm and tasted a little bit like his cigars. He grabbed something else from the fridge and turned back to me.

Mel fished his big red cock out of his trousers and lowered my almond milk right below his dickhead. He grinned at me caddishly and let free a strong stream of piss. I just stood there stupidly, bare ass naked in my own kitchen letting him ruin my food.

"Feeling thirsty?" He asked, placing the carton in my hand. I looked at it grimly.

"Why don't you finish it." He ordered, and I meekly drank the rancid mixture, which was mostly his piss. He didn't bother to put his pendulous flaccid cock back in his pants, and it hung out of his fly, asserting his dominance. It swung about heavily as he peered into my fridge.

I watched him open up a tupperware full of salad and stood there while launched snot rockets into my lunch. He chuckled at the demented act. Mel was in full schoolyard bully mode, and though I was nauseated I was also shamefully excited to be his victim, trapped in my own home with him.

From a cabinet he got a garbage bag, then stomped into my bedroom, where quickly found my underwear drawer. I watched powerlessly as he seized every pair of boxers and boxer briefs I had, dumping them all into the trash bag. From his briefcase he placed on the shelf about a dozen identical pairs of size 32 white fruit-of-the-loom undershorts. Old-fashioned, little boy briefs. I hadn't worn anything like them since I was 12. Switching to boxers around the same time as my peers had been an assertion of my independence and more importantly my burgeoning manhood.

I looked at them all in my drawer, the rows of neatly folded white cotton. Fruit-of-the-looms. About as boyish as you could get. The kind of underwear that would make me look like a dweeb, a virgin. The type of tight drawers that would put my small package on full display, which along with my completely hairless body would be a kind of pitiful self-evident justification for why I was I belonged in such wimpy undies in the first place.

"Bout time I put you back in tighty-whities, eh boy?" I nodded along, permitting him to reorder my wardrobe. When he was done he clasped the small of my back, directing me to look into the drawer.

"You see Petey, when a boy has such a tiny little pecker like you, it needs to be kept safe and protected, nestled in clean white cotton. It doesn't need to swing free, nothing to swing after all, right? From now on we'll keep your little schmekel safe and sound in a good old-fashioned pair of tighty-whities." He rubbed his hand over my bare stomach as he talked, looking back and forth from my face to my pulsing hard-on. I nodded, imagining putting on these underwear everyday, wearing them under my suit, knowing what it would mean.

Something caught Mel's attention and he released me, bumping me with his hip. He beamed at me wildly as he grabbed a photo of my father and me from off the bureau.

"This is your faggot father, huh boy?" He rubbed our faces in the photo with his thumb.

"Yes Sir." I felt queasy at Mel's menacing interest in my personal life.

"Looks like he might like it up the ass, too. Think I should ask him?" He wagged his cock at me mockingly as he continued to hold the photo.

"Yeah I'd fuck him up the ass, then stomp his tiny nuts to tomato sauce so he can't make any more faggot sons." He threw the photo on the ground then barked.

"Petey, I'm the fucking guest of honor here. You're going to show me a real good time, right boy?" He jabbed his finger into my chest, causing me to stumble. I steadied myself and clasped my arms behind my back obediently, making myself available to him.

"Yes Sir!" I said in a clear voice.

"If you don't show me a good fucking time, I'm going to send a couple of really funny videos to your father. He can learn how much his baby boy loves my big fat cock." He shook his cock back and forth at me.

"Please Sir, I'll do anything." I pleaded.

"You like being my bitch, don't you Peter Joseph Meechum?" He asked wryly.

"Yes Sir! I love it!" My heart was racing.

He stripped his own suit and had me hang it up. I picked up his discarded boxers, socks and undershirt from my floor. The items were damp with his sweat. He patted my head, his naked waist jostling me as he walked past me. I then watched as he went around and closed all the windows in my apartment and unplugged the AC. He turned back to me, grinning, his ape-like body shiny with perspiration.

"Let's enjoy the heat, boy." I too was soon coated in sweat. We were in my bedroom, and I stood there as he walked opposite of the window, his naked, hairy pear-shaped form looming over my computer and desk.

"Get on your knees, play with your little schmekel." I knelt down quickly, eager to pleasure myself. I rubbed the underside with the palm of my hand and fingertips, I was so horned up that I knew that just taking it in my hand might make me blast prematurely. Instead I gently toyed with myself while watching him investigate.

Mel rooted around in my desk, phone in his hand. The first two drawers had random odds and ends but then he found where I kept all my important documents, and he hauled everything out. He was taking pictures. My passport, bank records, social security card, tax records, birth certificate. I heard his camera snap photo after photo. He was getting it all, his big hard-on pressed atop my desk, rubbing over my vital records and staining them with pre-cum. His big boner sawed over my open passport, and I saw my photo getting smeared with his thick leaking seed.

Violating my privacy like this was making him hard as a rock and even had him leaking his juices. As he leaned against the desk his belly spilled over it, and I watched as the sweat ran down from his hairy gut and onto the surface. His sweat stained and smeared the ink of some of the documents as well. My stomach dropped as he greedily sucked up all of my information. He then carelessly swept all of my vital records off the desk and onto the floor, and then sat his wide naked ass down in my office chair.

"What's your password, boy?" He demanded as I kneeled at his hairy feet, wanking off. I hesitated before answering, making him snicker. He unlocked my computer and went to work. I could see him examining my web history. Rooting through my files. He inserted a flash drive into the side. His big hairy hands typed quickly. For an older guy he moved quickly online, going from page to page. Bank and checking account 401k, social media, he accessed it all and downloaded it all onto the drive. He set up software too. He didn't explain what he was doing but I recognized the programs as he quickly installed them, identified them as remote access programs so that he could invade my computer from wherever and whenever he pleased. Take control and wreak havoc.

He turned to me in my office chair, swiveling it towards me, grinning at me like a lunatic and chuckling. His stocky legs were spread open and his rampant hard-on was pointing straight up, oozing pre-jizz on the seat.

"You and me? Now we're really linked together. I'll be able to see everything you do, and I'll be able to do whatever I want. Isn't that nice, Peteyboy?" I nodded, unable to verbally affirm this brazen invasion of my finances, my future, my life.

After he ransacked my personal files, he sat up, leaving a puddle of sweat on the chair, and yanked my hair to drag me along on the floor. I bear crawled at his side, letting him dog-walk me down to the hall and into the living room.

He sat on my couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. Almost unconsciously I fell to my knees and put my face in his crotch. He laughed with delight as I, unbidden, began to reverently lick and suck on his large, hairy testicles. Paying homage to the center of his manhood.

"Atta boy, Petey!" He patted the top of my head roughly.

I then licked from his stomach up to his chest. Suckling his breasts, licking the nipples, nuzzling as if they would give me milk. Plunging my face into his dense, swirling gray chest hair. He lifted his arm and I eagerly thrust my face deep into his armpit.

"Oh yeah! That's it slut. You love that hairy pit, don't you pussyboy!" I nodded as I continued to lap at the swirling, sweat-soaked hair. I drank the salt-tinged sweat that was pouring into my mouth.

He grabbed my face and spit a mouthful of beer into my mouth. I forced it down my throat.

"Thank you, Sir." I gurgled.

"Good boy, Petey." He grabbed my jaw and poured the rest of his beer down my throat. Squeezing my cheeks, he belched loudly and blew it onto me. He then slapped my face and sent me to the kitchen to grab two more for us. Now I was truly a naked servant for him in my own home, walking back from the fridge with two beers, my little hard-on waggling in front.

He only let me drink beer, spit from his mouth to mine. He would take a long swig himself and drink it, then fill his mouth again with an equally large amount of beer. He'd swill it around in his mouth, gargling it like mouthwash, all while looking me dead in the eye. Then he'd pull my face to his and spit the warm beer into my mouth. He held both cold bottles up to my nipples to torment me.

"Lie on your back, sissy. Bring your knees up to your titties." Mel waddled off to the kitchen and came back with two fresh beers. He popped the top off both with his thumbs, letting the caps fall to the floor. I watched him approach me as his thick tongue licked all around the mouth of one of the bottles. He crouched beside the couch and held up my folded legs in his left arm, then jammed the top of the open beer bottle into my exposed hole.

I gasped involuntarily, a sharp inhale, as he screwed a few inches of the glass into me and tipped the bottle back to let its frigid contents flood my guts. I screwed my eyes shut and felt this strange reverse flow of cold froth. Once it was empty he pulled it out, carelessly tossing it behind him. I heard it rattle on the floor as I focused on keeping my anus closed for my furniture's sake. He grabbed my legs and wrenched them up so that my hips were lifted off the couch.

Shamefully, I was no stranger to enemas - Mel had subjected me to one at our first meeting, and taught me to clean myself each morning in case he decided he wanted me in the middle of day. I had even ordered a special stainless steel hose to attach to my shower to more easily perform this degrading ritual. But this rush of ice-cold beer into my insides felt like nothing I had ever experienced. I was flush, going cold all over despite the almost unbearable warmth of my humid apartment.