Something Different

Only, this time, she'd laid down the law to him.

Now, he was hers to command.

"Get down" she instructed him, "on your elbows and knees."

Reluctantly, he did her bidding.

"Now, spread your legs, bitch!"

He complied.

His cock was flaccid. It hung, soft and limp, between his legs. Her artificial manhood dwarfed his, and, as absurd as it might be to feel so, he was humiliated at the discrepancy. Size really did matter, he told himself, especially when his chick had a bigger dick than he did!

Brian felt something cold and clammy between his buttocks and upon—and then inside!—his asshole, as Bev smeared a lubricant on her target. He cringed, knowing that she was preparing to penetrate him. He wondered whether she would also lubricate the shaft of the artificial penis before she entered him with it. Probably, she would, he thought, but he found that his uncertainty with regard to this matter upset him; it was disquieting.

The sleek flesh of her firm outer thighs brushed past his inner thighs as she knelt behind him on the floor. There was a moment's pause, and then something cool and utterly smooth, something cylindrical and firm, slid between his buttocks, parting the firm cheeks as it advanced, its rounded tip pressing resolutely against the tiny, tight opening to his rectum. Involuntarily, his buttocks compressed, and she dealt him a viscous slap. "Don't fucking resist me, bitch!" she ordered.

He relaxed his buttocks, and he felt the artificial cock force open his anus. It slid through the ring of muscle, inch after inch of its smooth cylindrical length penetrating him until, at last, all eight inches of the dildo having vanished within his rectum, he felt the cool, firm, fake, but realistic, testicles press against his perineum through the slightly wrinkled contours of their molded scrotum.

She was in, all the way in, possessing him as a man took ownership of a woman he'd penetrated. It felt glorious he thought, to lose his masculinity to her, to surrender his manhood to her, to be conquered by a woman who used him as if he were a female who had been created but to be penetrated, to be occupied, and to be assaulted. "Fuck me!" he wanted to cry, but he knew better, sensing that he must remain silent, enduring what she administered without question, complaint, protest, or even exultation. She had reduced him to a mere object—or objects—cock, balls, anus, and rectum—to use and abuse as she saw fit, and objects did not praise or celebrate, any more than they criticized or condemned, the use or abuse to which they were put.

Having been penetrated, Brain's impaled anus began to flex, contracting violently about the invading dildo. His asshole fluttered frantically, as if in a desperate, but vain, effort to expel the trespassing "organ." He was mortified beyond simple shame; he felt as if his soul had been wrung out by Bev's piercing of his buttocks with her artificial cock. He felt as if his manhood had been denied, even destroyed, by this simple act of phallic penetration. He mourned the loss of his virility, of his masculinity, of his maleness.

At the same time, though, he welcomed this outrageous usurpation of his manliness, this feminization of his person, this unmanning of himself, for Bev, in treating him as if he were a woman, had, in some real and enduring sense, actually accomplished this transformation of him, making him, if not fully a woman, something that was also less than a man. He was a new creature, somewhere between the two extremes of sex, a hermaphrodite, androgynous and genderless, a member of neither the masculine nor the feminine, but of the neuter, gender. The fluttering of his anus subsided as his body, like his mind, accepted his fate.

The lubricant Bev had applied to his ass and anus (and, he hoped, to her phallus) eased the way of the massive dildo, but its utterly smooth surface and its cylindrical shape also made penetration and intercourse fairly easy, he realized, as the dildo slid back, through his anus, before plunging home again, penetrating him anew as she drove the artificial cock deep into his rectum.

His own cock was only nine inches, erect; hers was a dozen! The way the dildo spread his anus to many times its actual—or, at least, its original—size also suggested that her prick was much thicker than his own fleshly penis. Even though her cock was artificial and his was real, the idea that her phallus was bigger than his penis embarrassed him, and he felt a flush of shame across his face at the thought that he was being buggered by a woman with a bigger cock—and bigger balls—than his own. The size differential made him feel less manly, even impotent. His cock, which had stiffened and swelled again when she'd first penetrated him, now began to soften and dwindle again, as he bemoaned his unmanliness before this phallic woman.

As she continued to fuck him, however, thrusting ever faster and more forcefully into the depths of his bowels with the massive member secured to her groin, and he felt the insistent, quick push and pull of the phallus within his gaping anus, his cock stirred, twitched, lurched, swelled, and stood, gaining the full glory of its erection, and his balls seemed to shrink inside the tightening, rising pouch of his scrotum.

He'd learned, he supposed, to enjoy the disparity between his smaller and less robust organ and her larger, more powerful, if artificial, counterpart. To be denied, whether with regard to gender, sex, or genital superiority, was as exciting, in its own way—or maybe more exciting—than to experience success or fulfillment in these areas. To be rendered genderless and sexless, to be made into a psychological eunuch, was arousing and delightful. It was fun, even fulfilling, to be unmanned, especially by a woman. To give up dominance in favor of submission, power in exchange for powerlessness, and to become willingly weak rather than strong was a heady experience. No wonder his cock was stiffer than it had ever been before and his balls felt as if, any moment, they must explode!

Again and again, each time he felt the smooth cylinder rush past the inward-curving cheeks of his buttocks' sleek cleavage and through his ravaged asshole, to plunge into his depths, and each time he felt his buttocks flattening before the leather harness that covered his ravisher's groin, Brian was reminded of his submissiveness, his passivity, his compliance, his acceptance of being penetrated, filled, and ravished. He was reminded of his having been unmanned by a woman and of his own acceptance, and, indeed, delight, in having been castrated sexually and emotionally.

Bev slammed him again and again, mercilessly and savagely, cramming her blistering pink dildo up his ass. She would pause, occasionally, to grind her leather-girded loins into his backside, crushing flat the buoyant mounds of his derriere, to let him feel her presence more fully, before withdrawing her prick to ram him again, harder, faster, and deeper. Her pussy flowed an endless, copious stream of juices, inundating her thighs. He, too, had had an orgasm, and his cock was spurting thick streams of semen all over the place.

She let him rest for a while, so he could get his strength back. Men were such pussies! After one orgasm, they had to wait before they were able to achieve another erection, and, during this time—about fifteen minutes in men of Brian's age—they uninterested in sex.

Well, she wasn't uninterested, Bev thought, and she needn't wait to enjoy another orgasm. While Brian recuperated, she played another DVD. This one, Butt Boys, was really hot. When Brian had recharged his batteries, the action in this film would bring him fully erect in no time, and Bev would try out her newest strap-on, the one her brother Tom had bought her, just for this occasion—the eighteen-inch model that was as thick as her ankle.

Meanwhile, she fingered herself. Her clit got hard almost as soon as the bear impaled his twink, and she watched the burly macho man pump his thick, hard cock inside the thin young man's smooth bottom. Before the stud climaxed, she'd experienced two, intense back-to-back orgasms, imagining that she was the hairy, barrel-chested macho man and Brian was the twink.

Her parents and sibling were gone all week; she'd have Brian stay over, every night, and, when she sent him home, he'd be hers forever, an effeminate catamite who'd take her prick up his ass whenever she liked, which would be often.

She noticed that, as he watched the action on her TV set, Brian had recovered sufficiently to have attained an erection. "You ready to go again?" she demanded.

He grinned.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said. "Assume the position."

"Wait! You mean—?"

"Yes, bitch; that's exactly what I mean. From now on, I'm the fucker, and you, pussy, are the fucked."

His eyes stared in terror at the humongous dildo she removed from her dresser and strapped about her hips, but he did as he'd been told.

He got down on his elbows and knees, before her, on her bedroom carpet; he assumed the position, ready, as always, to "experiment with something different."