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I was a gym rat. It was my only hobby. I was in Law School and I did ok. I spent my evenings at the gym and my weekends at the pub getting wasted. Just your average kiwi bloke really.
I moved in with Art because the accommodation was close to Uni and super cheap. He was a friend of a friend and I only knew one thing about him- he was gay. That didn’t bother me because I’m not a cunt. Nothing about him bothered me actually because despite all my time in the gym, the dude was like twice the size of me. I didn’t have a word to say against him because I figured he could break me in half.
He was like, almost 2 metres high, and I’m on the shorter side at the best of times, a good 170cm on my best day. He was Maori and looked like a rugby player, all broad muscle. I definitely have more of a swimmers build- although I have a good set of abs on me, and apparently a nice ass.
I’m also kind of girly looking in the face. Soft pink lips and all that. Not helped by my curly blonde hair. I roll with it, a lot of women like the blonde Ken doll look. A lot of men also, it turns out.
Art and I were friends, but I was a student and he had a job, and really we only saw each other occasionally. We did have friends in common and would occasionally go to gigs together. It was before one of those gigs where my entire life got totally fucked.
We were running late, and he was annoyed at me for taking too long so he barged into my room without knocking. It was my fault that I was trying to have a quick wank before we left, so I was naked and erect when he slammed my door open.
“Oh dude Jesus!” I leapt up and turned around to hide my dick as Art rudely entered.
“Sorry dude.” He said. “Oh shit.”
“What?” I grunted, annoyed that he was still standing there, looking at me. He closed the door behind him and locked it. What the fuck? “Art?”
“Shhh.” I tried to pull on my shorts but Art caught my hands. “You have such… Jesus that’s a nice ass.” He said. I tried to whirl round to hit him but he was stronger than me and pinned my hands to my side. “Just let me look.” It wasn’t a request and I grumbled under my breath. Eventually he had to touch.
He started placing his hands on me, grabbing me and shaking the fat around, watching me jiggle. I grunted in pain and humiliation, but he took that totally the wrong way.
“That’s it baby.” He whispered. He parted my cheeks and moaned.
“Yes.” He breathed heavily.
“Art! No! You fucking dickwad!” Only he just didn’t give a shit. He pushed a finger in me experimentally. “Fuck!” He took that the wrong way too.
“You like that?”
“Don’t wanna hear it. Your ass was made for this.”
Shit. I tried to fight him but I made things a hell of a lot worse for myself. He wrestled me to the ground, my legs splayed as I knelt in front of him. He pinned me down with one arm and teased my tight hole with the other.
“This is gonna feel so good.” He said. He was possessed. He couldn’t be reasoned with. He slowly steered his big dick into my virgin hole and I grunted with the pain, shaking under him. He paused for a moment as both of us adjusted.
Maybe I could still fight this, I thought- but I already knew I was lost. He was so huge, so strong, so manly. You didn’t just get yourself pinned down by your flat mate if you aren’t a bitch to some degree. As he started to thrust I knew this was it. I was a total fucking bitch. He would never see me as his buddy, or a man. He would see me as his faggot. A hole.
“Please…” I whimpered. I should have known he would read that wrong.
“Don’t worry baby. Daddy’s gonna take real good care of you.”
I couldn’t help myself. I started to moan as he pumped into me.
“You do like this don’t you?” He stroked my ass cheek. “Lucky for you because we’re gonna do this a lot more often.” I bowed my head to the floor submissively and took it, took all that he had for me. I wasn’t a man anymore. I was Art’s bitch. And it felt way too fucking good.
“Shit bro. Imma breed you.” He grunted.
“Yeah.” I grunted back. He laughed as he started to cum, thrusting his hot load way up my ass. Eventually he sighed. He helped pull me up to my knees and almost instinctively I started to clean off his dick with his mouth. I don’t know what the fuck came over me, it just felt right.
He moaned and wrapped his hands in my hair.
“Good bitch.” He sighed. I slowly pulled off him. “Fuck you have an amazing pussy dude.” He said. “That’s mine now you know? You’re my little fag bitch. I own you.” I stood up shakily, feeling his load drip out of my ass. I slowly started to get dressed.
“Yeah man.” I agreed. “You totally owned me.” I pulled on a shirt. “We gotta go or we’ll be late.”
I was pretty fuck dumb, I’ll be honest. I was still processing when we reached the gig. Art wasn’t. He dove right in. I never really had a chance to get my thoughts together- it was part of his master plan, canlı bahis şirketleri keeping me dumb and confused and slightly horny as he turned my life upside down.
“I’m gonna cut a long story short.” Art said as we reached the gig, and to my horror he clasped my hand. “McNally and I are fucking. He’s my boyfriend. You’re all gonna be cool about it because none of you are cunts right?” I must have been as gobsmacked as everyone else when he said that, but I couldn’t bring myself to protest. What if he just told everyone how I took it like a little bitch?
He noticed me turning red.
“Don’t be embarrassed, babe. We’re all cool right?” The guys nodded their agreement. They even bought us drinks to celebrate and shook my hand, congratulating me. I wanted to scream how fucked up it was, and that I was straight for fuck’s sake… but all fucking night Art kept his hand possessively on my neck and gave me little firm glances.
“Your ass is mine.” He reminded me from time to time. And I couldn’t deny that.
I was buying another pint when the lass behind the counter started flirting with me. I could feel it and I grinned at her as she made a cheeky joke. She messed up my payment and had to lean so far over the register in that skimpy top she was wearing.
“So you got a name?” She glanced up at me, and I felt a firm hand on the small of my back.
“Barking up the wrong tree love.” Art said, looking her up and down. He gently took my chin in his hands and tilted it up.
He leant down to kiss me chastely- and I wish I’d thrown him off me and snogged the cute girl pouring my beer but…
Of course I didn’t. I could feel the last vestiges of my manhood falling away. I didn’t know how to get out under Art’s thumb. I bowed my head submissively as he paid for my drink and led me back outside.
That was change number one.
I wasn’t the cute single gym rat on campus. I was the cute gay guy who would, apparently, do anything for his older boyfriend.
I already did most of the cleaning because Art was a ditz. But he wanted some other changes.
“New rules Mac.” He said as I came home one day and began to strip for him. I don’t know why I’d agreed but he didn’t like me to wear clothes in the house. He didn’t mind panties or a jock if I was cleaning and actually he even let me have an apron if I was cooking… but very shortly after he bitched me the rule inside was basically no clothes.
“That ass is mine. We agreed.” He said when I protested. “It’s been mine ever since.” Which was true. I couldn’t offer resistance against him. Once you’re claimed bareback, another man’s cum deep inside of you, it changes you. It turns you into a bitch. He’s the alpha, and I knew it. “I want to see my ass at all times.” He said. I swallowed and undressed.
“Good boy.” I felt a little butterfly at that. He really had bitched me, to the point where pleasing him got me hard.
“You do all the laundry now. You cook all the meals. You do what I want when I ask. Don’t you, cumrag?” Yeah, he’d changed my name. He wasn’t wrong. Currently I existed at home silently, often kneeling in front of him with my cheeks spread, waiting for him to use me. My name was just a reflection of my status. I blushed and nodded. It made sense. It wasn’t much more than I did anyway, and it wasn’t like I could put up a fight.
“Yes, Art.” He sighed.
“And from now on you call me master. Got it?”
“Please…” It was just too much. I was already naked and on display for him. I was already his slave. But he raised his eyebrows.
“You have an objection, cumrag? My boy who I own? My little bitch who let his ass be claimed and is now mine in every way? You think you have the right to defy the man, the real man, who owns you?” I shook my head.
Before I knew it we were in a routine. I slept with him every night, of course I did… What if he wanted my ass during the night? I woke up before him to prepare him breakfast and coffee. I greeted him with the coffee in bed, and sometimes he’d ask me to give him a blow job which I wasn’t very good at, but I was getting better. Mostly he just liked me in my resting position- kneeling, legs spread, ass up head down. I spent most of my waking hours like that these days.
I sat like that as he ate breakfast and he admired me. Sometimes he would have me twerk and I’d moan as my dick grazed the table.
“We have to do something about that.” He muttered. Fuck. He was totally gonna cage my dick. Not that I ever got to use it really- although he did allow me to touch myself sometimes when he fucked me. He said he loved hearing me beg to cum.
I still went to class and to my job. He had access to my bank account but he wasn’t really using it. I think he just liked the control he had. He liked that I texted him to check if it was ok if I got a coffee or met up with my friends for beers.
My friends didn’t know canlı kaçak iddaa the extent of it. It was enough for me that I was now their gay friend. They’d worked out pretty easily Art was on top and I did get a bit of teasing about it, but not enough to stop me from seeing them. It felt like a little normality in a life that was turned on its head.
Sometimes Art was even nice to me. I’d come home, strip and get dinner ready and he would play with my ass and ask about my day and how I was doing in school. Sometimes he’d pull me on to the couch with him, instead of letting me rest at his feet like usual. Sometimes when he got drunk he told me he loved me, which I knew wasn’t true because who loved a cumrag?
“Cumrag.” He called to me. I stopped what I was doing and knelt at his feet. He ruffled my hair. “We’re about to have a discussion about something and you won’t like it.” I mean, the guy had already taken over my life. This was just one more thing.
“That big fucking dick of yours.” He said. Ah. So he was gonna lock it up. I sighed. It wasn’t as though I was ever gonna fuck with it again, he’d made that clear. I was never going to fuck anything again, except maybe a blow up doll for his entertainment. But I liked having it. I liked to touch it, when I was permitted.
“Yes, master. I understand.” I said quietly. He tilted my chin up to look at him.
“You’re such a well behaved bitch aren’t you? You never put up a fight. I guess you knew deep down you were always meant to be my little cumrag.” I blinked. I guess so. “You have a choice Mac.” He stroked my face. “I’m going to lock you up, permanently, or we can try this.” He held out a little white pill. “I won’t lock you up, but it is gonna shrink that dick of yours right down. I don’t know how much. It’s to remind you that I’m the man, and you’re the fag. You’ll probably find you can’t fuck with it but I wasn’t gonna let you fuck anyway. You’ll still be able to touch yourself, I know you like that. So. Big and caged, maybe you’ll be freed one day? Who knows? And then you’ll still have that big dick you used to boast about so much. Maybe a little smaller, I hear permanent chastity does that. Or would you prefer small and free? It’ll be too small to please anyone. It’ll be shameful. Anyone who sees it will know exactly what you are. It’s your choice cumrag.”
I blinked at him and felt myself grow red with shame. What kind of man would ever be on his knees, grateful to have the choice? But I wasn’t a man anymore.
“Master, it’s your choice.” He chuckled.
“You’re so good, baby. But this one really is up to you. I’m going to find it hot either way.” I nodded.
“Then the pill please master.”
“Very well.” He fed it to me and I sighed as I ate it, knowing my submission had reached new lows.
“Good boy.” He said. “We’ll see the effects tomorrow.” He was playful and kind all night. I think I’d made the right choice.
I greeted him in a jock in the morning and he relished peeling it off me.
The reveal was fascinating in its own way. My once proud cock- 20cm at least was under half the length now. It had lost a lot of girth as well. The coke bottle was more like a thumb. I suspected it would be dwarfed by a toilet roll.
“8cm.” He grunted as he measured. “Cute. I would have liked even smaller but this suits you cumrag.”
“Thank you master.”
“What do you think?” I tried to hide a smile. What did I think? As if it mattered.
“Are you happy master?” He grinned at me, holding my new little dick in his hand.
“Aw Mac.” He said. “I have a subby little fag on hand every day who just shrunk their dick purely because I wanted it. I’m very happy.” I looked at him as he stroked my face.
“I think it’s humiliating master. But I suspect you like that.” Art beamed. I was glad my honesty paid off.
“Breakfast.” He said.
I twerked for him on the kitchen table as he ate. I noticed I couldn’t get friction in the same way I used to. Art sent me off to school with a pat on my ass and another on my smooth crotch.
“I’ll see you tonight.” Oh yeah. We were going out tonight. I still wasn’t used to us in company. He owned me, but he hadn’t totally broken my personality. He told me not to be awkward around him- we were boyfriends after all. I should love him.
So I joked with my friends like usual, and when Art arrived I went to sit on his lap. I didn’t like PDA but Art found it endearing.
“Aw.” He murmured as I leant my head on his chest. “Did someone miss me?”
“Yeah it’s been hours.” I joked. He squeezed my waist and stuck one hand down my pants under the table. He fondled my little dick and I started to get hard under his touch. He grunted in amusement and gave it a squeeze before moving his hand to what he really liked, my ass. He pushed a finger in and I let him, without wiggling or moaning. It was his ass, what was I meant to do?
I was always embarrassed with Art around my friends, canlı kaçak bahis it was so obvious I was a piece of meat for him. He manhandled me and told me what to do, albeit softly. He insisted on treating me, telling me my money was no good, and making sure I was by his side at all times. I was his needy little boyfriend. I suppose thats marginally better than being his needy little faggot.
I couldn’t believe it, but I was glad he shrunk my dick. I got to play with it way more now that it was small. He actually liked seeing it cum, especially because I was kinda premature now- it was just so sensitive. I was so grateful not to have it caged that I relished the teasing and the humiliation.
Not that there was ever any doubt about my place as his cumrag but now even looking at us it was clear who was the man and who was the fag. He made me grow out my hair a little, he liked to play with it. He experimented with keeping my whole body shaved, but eventually decided he like me hairy.
“I mean you’re my bitch, aren’t you cumrag? You’re not a girl.” I didn’t know about that. I was whatever he wanted.
He didn’t fuck with my diet or exercise too much- after all he liked my body the way it was. He did watch my beer intake and I obviously had a curfew so I maybe dropped a few kilos initially. I was terrified they would come from my ass- because as bad as it was being his little cumrag, it would be even worse to know what a bitch I was and be kicked out.
I’d been horny and stupid since he fucked me. And each new degrading thing he made me do only made me lower and more confused and hornier. I would be lost without him.
Eventually I graduated. He helped me get a job.
“Can’t have you lying around all day cumrag. And you need to start saving.” I didn’t know what I was saving for but I bowed my head.
The job was great, and I was pretty good at it. I actually ended up getting kind of a massive promotion after a year and managing my own team. It was the first time I’d been around people who never knew me as the super straight dude who played sports and slept around. Everyone in my office knew from day one I was gay and head over heels for Art. It made me blush everyday.
My coworker who sat next to me, Melissa, was beautiful. Tall and blonde with a tan left over from summer.
“That your boyfriend?” She noticed the picture of him he had me place on my desk. I looked over at her. Fuck she was so beautiful. The kind of girl I would have loved. But now, even if I wanted to I couldn’t fuck her.
“Yeah that’s Art.” I tried to say cheerily. “He basically owns me.” She laughed. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.
Art could tell I was crushing on her when he met her at the work Christmas do that year. She was single, which almost made the whole thing harder because I was so close to the role of boyfriend for her- we joked, I held her hand when she had a rough day, we even went to the movies once or twice- if Art allowed it.
“Now we can’t have that.” He muttered to me, as he watched me stealing glances of her on the dance floor. I looked away. It wasn’t like I was going to act on it. He tutted. He wanted all of me, body and mind and soul… and if I was looking at a woman he didn’t have that.
We got home and he wanted to watch TV so I knelt before him and he used my ass as a footrest. My dick was hard in spite of myself, but it just stuck out uselessly. I couldn’t hump the air.
Eventually he wanted me and knelt behind me. I stuck my ass up and spread my cheeks a little. I’m always lubed. It saves time. He experimented with butt plugs but he likes the look of my hole too much to make that permanent.
“It’s your lucky day cumrag.” He kissed me as he pounded my ass and I moaned. “You can play with yourself whenever my dick is in you.” Was that a trick? There was no way.
“Thank you master.” I panted. I didn’t reach for my dick though. He laughed.
“Good boy. There are caveats. I will give you some phrases to learn. Repeat them whenever you touch yourself.”
They ranged from true and obscene to not true and kind of sweet.
“I’m a faggot.” I panted. “I’m Art’s stupid faggot with a tiny cock. I worship real men. I am below real men. I am a bitch for alpha men. I love Art. I love his soft lips. I love his big, strong body. I love his big dick in my ass. My ass belongs to Art. I’m his bitch. His faggot.” Ad infinitum. I knew what he was doing, and it was working. He was twisting my horny brain so I couldn’t look twice at women. He wanted me to serve only him.
He started taking me out sometimes. I was so confused.
“Master is there something wrong with my cooking? I can try harder. What would you like to eat?” He chuckled and ruffled my hair.
“No, cumrag. If anything, your cooking improves by the day.”
“I’ll be good at home, master. I swear I always follow the rules. You don’t have to take me out with you.”
“I know you do, you’re a good boy. Now get dressed. We’re going out to dinner.”
I sat awkwardly opposite him. This wasn’t part of the deal, I thought. What deal though? The one where you unconditionally serve your former friend because apparently your ass is addictive?
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