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Arriving at Their campsite, The young Men found me, tied up and laying flat on my back, with the words “TOILET FAG” written on my forehead in permanent black ink - crude arrows directing Their attention to my mouth.

He’d watched as His other Brothers availing Themselves of my services - taking turns individually, or joining as groups of two and three, to relieve Themselves down my throat.

They all laughed as They drained Their bladders - hot, golden piss filling my mouth as I struggled to keep pace and gulp it all down.

Some missed the mark - whether by accident or on purpose - and I was soaked and stinking of Their piss within the first hour.

Now it was His turn and I marveled at the delight this young Alpha took at watching me swallow every last drop of His piss. He asked me if it tasted good; His tone was menacing and He was clearly disappointed when I gave a heartfelt “yes Sir, it tastes amazing! Thank You!”

Hours later, He reappeared and, dropping His shorts, squatted over me and barked, “let’s see if you think this tastes good too…”

His asshole hovered just above my mouth and I stretched out my tongue to lick His pucker - barely grazing it. I felt a sharp sting and my ears rang as He quickly pummeled my head “no tongue, faggot - I’m not your fucking boyfriend…no open up…”

I obeyed and hoped He hadn’t noticed my worthless erection through the ropes across my jeans.

I watched as His pucker grew outward, like a volcano’s peak, and awaited the eruption with a mixture of fear, excitement, and hunger.

“PPPPPppppffff!”

He let rip a loud fart; feeling its moist heat blowing against my face, I inhaled deeply - hoping it might help me to acclimate to my role as a full-service toilet more quickly. Being a faggot, I found the stink of His fart intoxicating, even though it smelled awful. I could taste it in my mouth, but I wasn’t regretting my invitation to this camping trip - far from it!

He let out a few more ripe farts before the main event finally began.

It was thick and solid as it grew like a tail from His asshole the first log landed squarely in my mouth, but the second and last hit my nose and chin before I could navigate them down my throat as well. I chewed greedily - suppressing my gag reflex - and proudly dined on His dump load.

He watched through His legs in amazement and disgust as each of His logs vanished down my throat. “Fuck, you’re a sick little faggot. That’s truly gross. You’re gonna be sick…”

I nodded, “Yes Sir, that may be true, but if it pleases You and the Others, it is my privilege to serve. Would You like me to lick Your hole clean? I don’t see any toilet paper.”

For example, during my second year at university, my roommate would regularly get drunk and pass out in His bed - wearing only His briefs.

On these occasions I would often crawl into His bed and position myself between His legs. I’d stay therefore hours - my face inches from His ass and crotch - simply breathing in the pungent scent of His ripe ass and musky balls.

Eventually He caught me and told me He’d report me to the housing office if I did it again. I obeyed and was left sniffing His dirty laundry instead. He said He was cool with me doing that so long as o did His laundry in the process.

When I lived abroad in the UK I rented a one bedroom flat. Being the faggot that I am I immediately placed a flat share advert offering a free bedroom.

I had a fairly decent response resulting in about 8 Men coming to view the flat. All were confused about why I’d be offering a free bedroom - the only bedroom - in a nice flat, in a nice neighborhood, and wondered where I would be sleeping. I explained to all of Them that I preferred to live with Others and, if I was inviting Them to stay with me, it was only right that They should have the bedroom as They were my guest.

Most were weirded out by this and figured there were strings; however, two of the Men asked me this directly and, as a dutiful faggot, I replied that there were no strings attached and explained that I enjoyed “serving the needs of Others” and would welcome the opportunity to serve Them during Their stay.

Only one of the Men seemed to apprehend what I was intimating, and I never heard back from the other Man. But that one Man accepted the free bedroom on the spot and moved in that evening.

He was in His mid-20s and was working as a line chef at a local restaurant. He said He wasn’t making much money, had been living out of His car, and didn’t mind living with others - especially as an alternative to His car.

On that first night, as I helped Him unpack and get settled, He remarked “I’m not gay and don’t get into that kinda thing, but I’m cool with it if you’re that way…are you?”

I paused and chose my words carefully: “that’s cool. I’m definitely into Guys, but wouldn’t say I’m exactly what You’d call gay - I’m something kinda different I guess.”

He said nothing at first and kept unpacking. But then He stopped and asked, “what the fuck does that mean, mate? What are you then?”

I felt nervous and concerned this was happening so soon after His moving in, but replied truthfully: “I guess I’m what You’d call a faggot. I am submissive and inferior to Men like You - well, all Men really - and my highest purpose is to serve, worship, and obey Men. It is just my nature.”

I paused before continuing “So, that’s the real reason why You have the bedroom…it would be ridiculous and absurd for me to place my own comfort ahead of You - a Man - and while I wouldn’t ever expect or demand anything from You, if there are ways I can please You or serve Your needs, I am duty-bound to obey and will be grateful for the opportunity to do so.”

He didn’t say much at first but eventually just said, “Okay. Cool I guess. You do your thing - as long as it doesn’t affect me I cool with whatever.”

That was it for about a week.

But then I began to notice small changes in His behavior. He began to put his dirty laundry into my hamper. He stopped cleaning up after Himself. He left towels on the floor and wouldn’t flush after using the toilet.

Of course, I was more than happy to do His laundry and would placed His clean and folded clothing on His bed. I was grateful to clean up after Him, pick up His towels and replace them with fresh towels, and flush the toilet after Him.

Within two weeks of moving in He had begun to assert Himself further - telling me what to pick up for Him at the market, inviting His friends over without letting me know, and taking over the whole flat.

A week later, He told me that He’d really enjoy breakfast and a fresh cup of tea in bed in the morning; He didn’t order me to do this, but I understood and obeyed. When I delivered His breakfast the next morning she complained to me about the long hours in the kitchen, on His feet all day, and said His feet were killing Him. Of course, I offered to massage His feet and He quickly agreed.

So there I was, three weeks in, kneeling at the foot of His bed, massaging His bare feet as He munched on the breakfast I had prepared for Him. I was in faggot heaven! I was so grateful and appreciative for the opportunity to have a Man I could serve, worship, and obey, and I looked forward to my continued and future servitude.

Within a month, He had fully accepted me for what I am and had begun to address me as “fag” or “faggot” whenever addressing me. He had fully embraced His superiority and dominion over me and had no qualms commanding me as He pleased.

Then, one Monday morning, He walked into the kitchen wearing only a heavily worn tank top - stained with what looked to be dried cum and stinking of His sweat and masculine body scent - and nothing else. His dick was at half mast.

I couldn’t help myself - I was transfixed - as I hadn’t had the privilege of seeing His cock until that very moment. It was uncut, long and thick. I may have actually been drooling.

He literally poked at me and asked, “so are you any good at sucking dick?”

Indeed, I was.

He stayed at His place for another year and a half, during which time He availed Himself of my holes regularly (telling me, and eventually His friends, that it was preferable to jerking off).

And indeed, He introduced His Friends to His faggot and would regularly send me over to one of His Friends to perform my duties - whatever these might be - from housecleaning, cooking, massage, or a warm wet hole for Them to use and enjoy.

During His final months, He took particular delight in using me while watching the footie on TV - using me severally as a footrest, a beer runner, foot massager, and urinal (“come here, faggot…open your faghole, I gotta piss and I don’t want to miss the play”.)

Eventually He found a new job working at a Michelin starred restaurant in Cornwall and had to move out. Happily, He gifted me to a Buddy who promptly moved in and took His place.

Of course faggots like me would be thrilled and would happily spend our lives openly serving, worshipping, and obeying Men. But the most important benefit would be for Men. In such a world, Men would have free and unfettered access to warm wet holes on demand.

Had a stressful day at work? Sit back and let Your house fag suck Your cock until You explode down its throat.

Have a big game coming up and want Your players to be relaxed and play with clear heads? Tag in the team faggot to serve up its holes for the Team to enjoy, use, and abuse.

Buddies coming over for poker night? Order some faggots to swing by to suck dick and swallow piss so You don’t have to pause the game whenever Somebody has a full bladder.

Bored on a Sunday and want to be entertained? See how far You can push and humiliate a faggot before it (and if) breaks.

Need to nut but You’re at the beach? Head over to the public gloryholes (available at most public restrooms) and pump a load into a faggot’s fagcunt.

Que tu le veuilles ou non.