Submisisve Fag Hole

#337

“Hey Tucker, we have to have a talk.  And that means, I do the talking and you do the nodding.  When I came to town last week, you and your wife welcomed me in to your home.  You knew that I was going to breed you that night, just like I used to when we shared our dorm together.  I knew you were needing me to cunt you, treating you like shit, and you got it.

“Sure—go ahead,” I agreed, taking in the glorious site of his muscled back, his warm load still gushing from my wrecked cunt. “There’s a clean towel on the shelf.”

I didn’t grow up watching football. My dad was more into golfing, and my small high school didn’t even have a team. But I quickly became enamored with the sport after attending a game during my first semester of college. 

I’ll be honest, the rules of the game made no sense to me at first. But that didn’t matter. I was attracted to the raw machismo of the game. The sweat and testosterone oozing from the muscled, red-blooded, all-American players was hot as fuck. After attending a game, I would go back to my dorm room and rub my cock raw, thinking of getting fucked by one—or all—of the players. 

And so I jumped at the chance when I saw the athletic department was looking for volunteers to tutor football players in a variety of subjects in order to keep their grades eligible to play. To my delight, I was paired with Trent Meyers, the star quarterback who was hot as fuck and clearly packing down below—and also failing Spanish. 

“You’ve got to commit these conjugations to memory,” I advised Trent as he failed to properly recite the preterite forms of tener for the umpteenth time. “You’re never going to pass at this rate.”

“Dude—I know,” Trent hung his head in shame. “I just can’t concentrate. I’m so fucking horny, I can’t see straight. I haven’t had any snatch in weeks.”

“What?!” I gasped incredulously. “You’re hot as fuck. I thought guys like you got tons of pussy.”

“Well, I used to score snatch all the time,” Trent explained, “until coach cock blocked the entire team. He said we were flunking classes and not giving 100 percent on the field because we were too obsessed with chasing tail. So he made us sign an honor code stating we’d be off the team if we were caught fucking girls.”

“Jesus,” I gasped. “That’s insane.”

“You’re telling me,” Trent hung his head once more. 

“Wait a minute,” I brightened up, an epiphany illuminating my brain. “There’s an obvious loophole. Coach said you can’t fuck girls, meaning you can fuck guys.”

“The fuck?!” Trent declared, his face scrunched up in disgust. “I ain’t sticking my dick in no dude.”

“You can fuck me,” I offered brazenly. 

“Fuck NO,” he spat. 

“Come on,” I countered. “Straight guys have been fucking gay guys since the ancient Greeks. It doesn’t mean you’re gay. It just means you need an easy hole to dump your load. I’ve let countless straight guys use my ass to get off.”

“I don’t fuck dudes. So just drop it, okay,” Trent raised his open palm to silence me. “I’m not gonna fuck you. End of discussion. Now are you gonna help me with this Spanish shit or not?”

I acquiesced and we returned to conjugations, but it was clear that Trent was still unable to concentrate. Moreover, all the talk about sex had stirred his big cock, his massive member straining to be contained by the thin fabric of his athletic shorts. 

We had moved on to the verb salir when Trent interrupted me. “What’s it feel like?” he prompted softly. 

“What’s what feel like?” I replied, confused. 

“You know—ass,” he clarified. “Does ass feel as good as pussy?”

“Ass is way better than pussy,” I declared authoritatively. “It’s way tighter, and you can go as deep as you want, like, balls deep. And since you can’t knock up the dude, you can fuck raw.”

“Christ,” Trent licked his lips, his right hand adjusting his swollen package. “Let’s do it. Get on the bed—now.”

“But are you sure—?” I began before Trent interrupted me.

“Dude, you better get on that fucking bed before I change my mind,” he commanded while standing up and pulling down his athletic shorts.  A massive nine-incher, oozing precum, instantly sprung to attention. Holy fuck. Trent was going to destroy my hole.

Quickly, I stripped out of my clothes, and reclined on my bed while reaching for the ever-present bottle of lube that I keep on my bed table. Deftly, I fingered a generous amount of the slippery stuff into my hole as Trent climbed on the bed.  I wanted him to fuck me missionary, so I could look up into his eyes as he bred my hole. But Trent had other plans.

“Flip over on your stomach,” he barked.  “I don’t need to see your face. You’re just a warm hole to me, understand?” Dutifully, I agreed, turning over onto my stomach and presenting my ass to Trent. I could feel the rounded tip of his cock pressing against the pink folds of my cunt, probing for passage.

“Take it slow,” I began to instruct, but it was too late. “FUCK,” I gasped as Trent impaled me with is big cock, going balls deep, his incredible girth splitting my hole in two.  It felt like he’d shoved his entire arm up my ass. 

“Fuck yeah,” he moaned in ecstasy, delivering some deep thrusts in and out of my burning hole.  “This is some good pussy.”

The thing I’ve learned from getting fucked by countless straight guys is that there is no tenderness or passion to the act, like there might be if the guy was making love to a woman. A straight guy isn’t looking to make love to another man. He’s looking to fuck the living shit out of him. Trent was no exception.

His hands moved to the small of my back, pressing me into the bed with his muscular arms, my ass raising to take him deeper. Jesus, it felt good. He was destroying my cunt, but I was loving every minute of it.

“You like this big dick in you, bitch?” Trent demanded thrusting himself in and out of me with intense force, his balls slapping against me with each thrust. “You like being fucked hard, bitch?”

“Yes,” I gasped, unable to catch my breath. Pain and pleasure alternated through my body in waves, a phenomenon only possible with a big cock like his. Simply put, his cock hurt so good.

My legs began to convulse uncontrollably. Trent’s big dick had breached my inner sphincter, a phenomenon that I had never before experienced. He was consuming me, my body relenting to his power. The intensity was insane as he pummeled me over and over again. I started to lose consciousness.

“FUCK YEAH,” he belted, pulling me back to the present. “I’m gettin’ close, dude. You want me to bust my nut in you? Dump my load in your wet cunt?”

“Breed me,” I begged. “Fucking fill me up with your seed.”

Trent moved his hands to my shoulders, his body pounding mine with breakneck speed. I’d never been fucked so hard. His stamina was incredible, but untenable. I tightened my sphincter, expertly bringing him to climax. Instantly, I could feel his cock swelling inside of me, the pressure building, a geyser about to erupt.

“FUCK—SHIT,” he grunted, his body slamming into me, collapsing upon me. “Yeah, take this fuckin’ nut, bitch,” he growled in my ear, his breath hot and sticky.

Blissfully, I remained still as his cock throbbed almost endlessly inside me, blasting shot after shot of his warm load deep inside my bowels. As the inner pulsing ceased, his balls emptied, Trent remained atop me. With his cock still buried in me, his breathing slowly returned to normal. 

“Thanks,” he said halfheartedly as he pulled out of me abruptly and turned toward the bathroom, a drop of cum still dangling from the tip of his massive cock. “You mind if I use your shower?”

“Sure—go ahead,” I agreed, turning my head back towards him, taking in the glorious site of his muscled back and firm ass, his warm load gushing from my wrecked cunt. “There’s a clean towel on the shelf.”

Like most of my other encounters with straight guys, Trent left my dorm room awkwardly. He avoided eye contact with me as he pulled on his clothes, gathered up his Spanish class materials, and made a beeline for the door.

“See you Thursday,” our next tutoring day, he called back to me as the door slammed behind him. 

It occurred to me that I might not ever see Trent again. Straight guys can be so skittish. Sure, he undoubtedly enjoyed using my ass. But there was always the chance he’d wake up the next morning, thinking, “What the fuck did I do?!” And then he’d vow to never see me again. It’s just how the straight male brain works. 

But late the next evening, Trent was at my door. “We don’t have tutoring again until Thursday,” I informed him.

“I know,” Trent smiled knowingly, pushing his way into my dorm room. “I’m not here for tutoring. I’m here to drain my balls in you again. So get your ass back on the fucking bed.”

He fucks me every day, usually more than once. He's so aggressive, he positions me on all fours roughly on his bed, warns me not to move. He stands behind me for a couple of minutes. I think he likes to look at me, get himself hard. I feel his big hands encircle my waist. His hands are so big and I'm so small, with a small waist, that it feels like his fingers could almost meet on my lower abdomen. I don't know why I'm so little, he and my mom are both tall. Well, my mom was tall, or so I remember her.

I wait, motionless, on all fours, every inch of my skin covered in black rubber. He told he'd wanted to turn me into his rubber fuckhound for years. He told me he hated having such a runt as an only son. He told me that when his beloved dog died two years ago he got the idea to replace him with me. The idea came from some images on Tumblr he stumbled onto. He told me he was mesmerized, that he became addicted to these images and to this idea of permanent transformation. He imprisoned me in rubber so he wouldn't have to think of me as a person, as his son. He keeps me collared and leashed, I sleep in a steel cage. Dad takes me out to fuck me. Afterwards he likes to have a whiskey or two in his leather armchair. He smokes a cigar. He makes me curl up on the floor between his leather boots. "Good boy," he says. I can smell the cigar smoke. My leash is curled around his hairy forearm a couple of times. Sometimes I'll feel it tugging, which is the signal to get up on all fours so he can skull-fuck me. His cock is still slimed with lube. He grabs my head with both hands and rams his cock down my throat with no mercy. The more I gag and sputter the harder his cock gets. Finally, usually after fifteen or twenty minutes, his cock suddenly swells even further and explodes. I never taste his cum, since his cock is so far down my throat when he erupts. How many gallons of Dad's cum have I eaten? He tells me not think of him as Dad anymore, he doesn't want to be anyone's father. He tells me to think of him as Master. "Your life is in my hands," he tells me, in a menacing way.

When he's fucking me, gripping my waist in his big paws, and he hits just the right angle and with the right rhythm, I can feel myself getting hard. I know I'm going to cum one of these times. I don't know how he'll react to that. I feel his big hard cock brutally pistoning in and out of my rubber hole, hear his bestial grunts. I'm supposed to be the dog but he's the one who descends into an animalistic state when he's raping me. It's like I'm a dog and he's turning into a wolf. Sometimes when he's fucking me I'll feel the leather choke collar around my neck. He'll yank back on it, snapping my head back, cutting off my air supply, forcing me to arch my back as he yanks back in rhythm to his fucking. A few times I've come within seconds of blacking out. I don't think he'd care if I did, he's just keep fucking me. If he killed me, he'd probably keep fucking me till he came. The rubber does something to him, makes his desire unmanageable.

He tells me all I need to do is to be obedient and to serve his needs when commanded. He doesn't mind when I fall asleep curled up between his leather work boots. I'm his rubber fuckhound, forever. When he comes home from a job site, tired and dirty, he makes me clean and organize his tools then make him dinner. As it's cooking, he peels off his white t-shirt and makes me lick him clean.

The door opens, and just like that, the world shifts.

The Man of the house, strong, calm, unshakable, steps inside, and the air seems to change; it always does. That moment, that sound of the lock turning, the footsteps on the floor, the slight grunt as He sets His gym bag down or slips off His blazer...that’s the cue. That’s the sign that the order has been returned to the home. That He is home.

The slave is already in position. Bare knees on the floor, eyes lowered, back straight, breath slow and still. Wearing nothing but his jockstrap and the cold, inescapable embrace of his chastity cage. No words. No movements until permitted. This isn’t just about protocol; it’s about reverence. This is a daily ritual, a sacred one. The moment the Master arrives, everything else fades. The world's noise, the day's stress, even the ache of the cage pressing down on his desires..it all quiets when Master walks through the door.

He doesn’t always speak. Sometimes He just looks down at His boy, that same look that says Yes. You belong right there.And then He lifts a shoe or turns His foot slightly, giving the silent command: Untie Me.

Carefully, reverently, the slave begins, tugging at laces, peeling the shoes away like a gift being unwrapped. The scent hits instantly: sweat, leather, power. He presses his face to it without even thinking, drinking it in like oxygen. The master might let him worship there a moment longer, or he might simply turn, expectant, ready to be served in the way He deserves.

From there, the evening unfolds the way it always does.

Clothes removed, drinks prepared, dinner served. The slave doesn’t eat unless permitted. His hunger isn’t physical anymore - his hunger is the ache to please. Every movement becomes service: pouring a glass, kneeling at His side while He scrolls His phone, massaging His feet, rubbing His shoulders, ready with a towel if Master decides to shower, or a collar if He has something more demanding in mind.

It’s quiet, structured, deeply intimate.

And it’s not about sex...not always: it’s about energy, devotion, knowing your place and loving it. It’s about the satisfaction of being useful, seen, owned, wanted, and used in exactly how you were meant to be. The leash might come out. The paddle might, too. Or maybe it’s just a hand resting possessively on the slave’s head while they silently sit. The boy doesn’t need to know what’s coming, he only needs to obey.

Every night, without fail, this is how the household re-aligns itself.

Not through chaos, but through structure, ritual. Through the unspoken understanding between a Master and the boy who kneels for Him.

And as the night deepens, and the house quiets, the slave curls up on the floor beside the bed or at the foot of it, caged, aching, owned, falling asleep knowing he did his duty.

PART 2

I slowly felt my mind come to consciousness, rattled by the experiences I’d just had. My mind started to race, recalling everything that had happened, when I felt my pillow beneath my face and something tied around my eyes, wrists, and ankles. I fought against them, trying to break free when suddenly a weight jumped on top of me, holding me down.

“Good morning, sunshine. You were out just long enough for me to readjust your body the way I want. I hope you’re not too comfortable down there, because we are only just starting.” The familiar voice struck fear in me, and I tried to fight the restraints even more, as I did I felt a hard slap against the side of my torso as his hand landed against my skin. “Stop fighting, faggot. This is going to happen,” He barked as he slid himself down.

I could feel his naked body. His cock dragged along my spine as he slid his body down beyond my ass. He sat on my thighs as I felt something wet slide in between my cheeks and start to tease around my hole.

“I debated on using your cum as lube to fuck you, but I decided I’d let it be used to open you up. Stop fighting, I’m going to get exactly what I want. Do you understand?” He kept his fingers teasing my hole as he spoke.

His rough hands were teasing my hole, slowly pressing against it as I felt the slickness of my own cum being used. All of a sudden, I felt a finger slip into my hole. Sure, I was used to my butt plugs, but this was a different sensation. It hurt, and pain shot through my body at the sudden and unwanted intrusion. The invader kept finger fucking me, eventually working up to two fingers. As he got his second finger in me, he started turning his fingers in different directions, and he’d occasionally press what I’d assumed was my prostate. Causing me to moan into the pillows beneath me as he did.

I just recently came, and was still dealing with not being horny anyway, but with this stranger assaulting my throat and now my hole, I was even more ready for this man to be done. I didn’t want to get fingered right now, much less fucked.

He kept finger fucking me, until he could get three fingers into my hole. Suddenly, he pulled them all out and without warning, I felt his beard against my cheeks as his tongue started teasing and fucking my hole for a few seconds before he went back to his fingers.

“Are you ready for this, boy? I hope so, but I don’t really care, because I am.” The stranger said as he adjusted himself so that his cock head was pressed against my hole.

His cock felt even bigger than I remembered it being when it was in my mouth. I felt him slowly apply a steady pressure before suddenly his head slipped in, and I was suddenly overwhelmed with conflicting signals. This stranger was taking my cherry, he was raping me, I didn’t want this, but I needed his cock all of a sudden. The need started small, but was growing with each passing moment.

“That’s just a few inches. I’ve got a solid 9 inches you’re going to be taking to the hilt before I let you take my load in your hole.” He growled at me. He used his hands to grip my hips, and pulled me up even deeper onto his cock before slamming every pound of his weight into me, burying his cock all the way in one shove.

The pain was incredible, I started thrashing, trying to get the stranger out of me as he wrapped his arms around my chest, and held tightly onto me. Each time I’d try to fight him off, he’d moan in my ear, and I could feel his cock staying buried in my hole, and it kept twitching as it violated me. “Keep fighting me, boy, you only make your hole feel even better. I love how it squeezes in an attempt to get me out.” He snarled in my ear.

I felt him lift his hips, and his cock started to leave my hole, and right before the head pulled out, he stopped, propping himself up on his own hands. Then, he impaled me all the way on it again. He repeated this, each time he impaled me, I could feel myself getting closer to crying at the aggressive fuck I was receiving. As he wrapped his arms around my chest again, pulling himself close to me, I felt his lips start to kiss my neck, causing me to let out an involuntary moan.

“Good boy. I knew you’d start to enjoy it.” He whispered into my ear as he started grinding into me. He stayed like this for a few minutes, occasionally making his cock twitch in my hole, causing my hole to clench down involuntarily. “Maybe if we keep doing this, you’ll be able to milk a load out of me. How’s that sound?”

I didn’t respond. There was nothing I wanted to tell this man other than to let me go, but I knew if I fought I’d only be making this worse for me.

He propped himself up, and pulled out. As he did, I could feel my hole try to keep his cock in me and when he pulled out. I felt his weight leave the bed as he shuffled around for something, I heard some zippers, something sounded like a bottle opening as he straddled my back again. He reached around, closed one of my nostrils, and held something to the open one.

“Inhale. They’re poppers. They’ll make this easier for you, which will make it easier for me. Don’t exhale until I tell you.” He ordered.

I did as he told me to, holding the hit in as I heard him close the bottle and get back in position with his cock at my hole. I heard him hock a loogie onto my hole, and then his hands gripped my throat tightly.

“You can exhale whenever you want, when you can.” He said, before he slammed his cock into my hole right to the hilt, burying himself until his bush was grinding my cheeks again. I couldn’t exhale, of course. His hands keeping too tight of a hold around my throat.

His pace picked up. I could feel his cock sliding in and out of me, the sound of his balls slapping my ass echoed in my room, and I desperately tried to exhale. It must have been over a minute, maybe almost 2 since he’d started choking me, and suddenly he slightly released his grip. As soon as he did, I exhaled around half of what I was holding in before he choked me again.

I felt the poppers take effect as blood rushed through my ears, my heart beating in my chest sounded like drums in my ears instead. My hole opened up, and the pain and discomfort of the assault suddenly became something different.

A moan left my lips as he shoved himself all the way into my hole, and my cock started to twitch. When he pulled out next, I let out a whimper, suddenly feeling empty, only for him to slam his cock back into me with his hands still tightly around my throat.

He released my throat, putting his hands onto my hips, and started to jack hammer me harder than he had been my hole opened up even more.

He fucked me violently, aggressively, for what felt like hours. I could feel beads of sweat dropping from him and landing on my back, I cold hear his breathing, I could smell his musk filling my sense of smell. The entire time he fucked me, I moaned, I got covered in goosebumps, I lost myself in the pleasure that the poppers allowed me to feel as long as I could.

The assailant picked up the pace, fucking me harder, deeper, and faster than he had yet as his cock felt like it was getting even thicker.

“FUUUUU—-TAKE MY LOAD YOU FUCKING FAGGOT! YOU CHEAP FUCKING WHORE! LETTING A STRANGER—-FUUUU——FLOOD YOUR CUNT WITH THEIR LOAD” He yelled. I guess he didn’t have reason to care who heard him in my apartment building, since I was the one getting fucked.

As I felt his load fill my guts, shot after shot, my own cock started to spasm, shooting a load into the mattress beneath me, causing my hole to spasm. “Good boy,” he said “Milk every last drop from my cock.” I could almost hear the grin in his voice.

He collapsed on top of me. His sweaty body smothering me. After a few minutes, he got off of me, and I felt his weight leave the bed right as I heard a phone start to ring. It must have been his, since I didn’t recognize the ring tone.

He answered “Hey bro. Long time no talk. What’s up?”

The voice on the other end inaudible

“Well, it’s been a long fucking time. Think it matters if he doesn’t remember me?” He inquired to the silent voice on the other end.

“Alright, I’ll tell him you said you and I talked, you and I came to an agreement. Yeah, yeah….of course…okay, text me his address. Thanks for calling bro.” He said before hanging up.

“Well, fag. I’m going to go run a few errands. I need to go meet someone. I’ll be back in 2 or 3 hours. No need for you to move, I’m keeping you just like that. Your ass is beautiful with my load dripping out of it, by the way.” He said as I heard a distinct noise from his phone letting me know he was taking pictures. “You know, for the spank bank,” he said.

I heard him get dressed & leave my apartment, closing the door behind him. I tried to think of everything I could do to get help. I could yell, or thrash about and hope that someone would hear me. If I fell or somehow took the mattress off the bed frame, I’d fall with it and there’s no telling how we’d land. Within 60 seconds of him leaving, I knew there was no point in putting up a fight.

And then I heard the front door open again. Much sooner than even 30 minutes. Hell, I had no real sense of time, but it seems that it was less than 5 or 10 minutes even.

“Well well well, who do we have here?” The familiar voice said as he entered my room.

“I’m going to untie you, you’re going to stay blindfolded and those cuffs will stay on your ankles and wrists, in case I need to restrain you again. We’re going to be walking to your living room, and we’re going to have a chat.” His voice dripped with cockiness this time. He was true to his word, and he guided me to my living room. I heard him strip down before ordering me to kneel, and he clipped my arms behind my back again, and clipped my ankles together. I could feel his legs on either side of my body as he sat down, his heat radiating and his musk started to take over my senses again.

“I’ve got some news for you. I need you to listen closely and figure out what I am telling you. That phone call you heard was from my estranged brother. I haven’t seen him or my family in decades, and I hadn’t seen his son since he was a toddler. Well, my brother called and told me his son moved to this city recently, and that maybe I could ignore our personal history as brothers and build a relationship with his son, so he wouldn’t’ have to fend for himself. So when I got to my car and entered the address, it said I was already at the apartment complex, and even in the correct apartment.” He told me.

Wait. What the fuck. Was he saying he’s my uncle? That couldn’t be. Could it? My cock started to get hard.

Suddenly, I felt him remove the blindfold from my eyes. As my vision adjusted to the brightness around me, there he was. The stranger I’d been messaging on the apps since I’ve moved here.

“That’s right, boy. Not only did you finally get your cherry taken, but your uncle is the one who fucked you like a cheap whore and bred your hole. Small world, huh?” He grinned at me. I gulped.

“There’s going to be some changes going forward. I don’t care if you agree or not, because you’ll love the adjustments eventually. Go ahead, crawl on in between my legs even closer, bury your face in my crotch, I want you to inhale your uncle’s scent while I tell you everything I’m going to do to you and how I plan on owning every aspect of my nephew.”

The first week was amazing, everyone was so mature, not a single person being rude or cruel about my height... Until the incident in the showers.

I went for a late-night gym session, making use of the 24hr facilities and decided to use the showers there, so as not to disturb my roommate. Just as I'm leaving the showers, this guy walks in and blocked my path.

He smiled cruelly at me "fuck yeah!" he yelled, "I heard a midget joined this year! I've been hoping to come across you, time to live out my fantasy!" he shoved his hands under my armpits and hoisted me up above his head "holy fuck you're light! This is going to be fun!"

He threw me up and caught me in a painfully tight bearhug, he huge arms threatening to crush me against his solid chest "oooh shit, you feel so small - like a toy to use as I please!" he released one arm and easily held me with a single extremely muscular arm - his arms didn't seem much smaller than my waist! Most people are big to me, but this guy is a GIANT compared to me, there's no way I'm getting out of this.

We walks into the shower block I just came from, and enters a cubicle, putting me down onto my feet, my back pressed against the wall. He looks hungrily down at me "open up" he pulls out his hefty semi cock "let's see how much you can take" then thrusts it into my mouth. It must already be at least 8inches long, but it's still growing! It's far too large to fit in my mouth, but he's forcing it in. It grows and hardens in my mouth, making my jaw feel like it may break! Thankfully he pulls out. "now time for the fun part!"

He spins me around and pushed me hard against the cold and wet tiled wall, keeping one huge hand pushing down hard on my shoulder, making sure I can't run away. He bends low, massive thighs appear either sine of me - his thighs must be as large as my torso - he slaps my inner thighs with his gigantic fuckstick "spread 'em" he orders, he giggles as I widen my stance "I've ALWAYS wanted to try this". His hand on my shoulder pushes me down hard as his shoves his immense cock up my hole I scream in pain, I have no idea how something so thick can fit in there.