Descent

Title: Descent

Author: Haven Tesla

Link: https://ancient-scrubland-1599.herokuapp.com/story/show/1014

Part 1

It's funny how your life becomes totally and completely fucked thanks to a chain of events involving strangers you've never met. Rob might have avoided his fate if Harold Hornsby hadn't eaten a bad oyster at dinner on Wednesday.

The middle-aged hypnotist for hire was violently indisposed, meaning that the organising committee of Fitzrovia College's Fresher's Fortnight, where he was supposed to perform on Friday, had to scramble to find a last-minute replacement. Even then, they might have selected any one of the many charlatans operating in the capital, or at the very least checked the credentials of the hypnotist they ended up hiring. But they didn't, and so the die was cast for Rob's descent.

That is not to say that Rob didn't deserve everything he got. Calling him a cocky bastard would be an extreme understatement. He had model good looks, with a beefy, well-muscled body thanks to years of rugby training. His undeniable sex appeal had landed him many a girl. In the fortnight since he'd arrived at Fitzrovia, he'd already bedded a dozen – a different one every night. It was a good thing London girls weren't clingy like the ones in Chester. Rob rolled his eyes as he recalled some of the hysterics he'd had to put up with when he dumped his previous ‘girlfriends'.

Of course, with his looks (and that body!), he didn't just attract the attention of the girls. More than one gay boy had given Rob a lingering glance. He soon put those faggots in their place! He wasn't going to stand for any poofs perving over him, and he made sure of it with the help of his best mates, Craig and Tom. He was glad that all three of them had gotten places to do sports sciences at Fitzrovia. Being a predominantly arts college, there was always the worry that the place would be crawling with poofs.

Why, just that morning, Rob had caught one of them trying to look at him in the showers. Hapless young Miles had let his eyes linger on Rob's beefy towel- clad body for a moment too long. He left the showers miserable and fearful, clutching a bloody nose. Rob, on the other hand, felt like he was on top of the world. Another poof taught his lesson! He was going to have to warn Craig and Tom that they were sharing a residence with a poof though. Never mind, by the time they were through making Miles's life a misery, he'd probably drop out of college.

Rob returned to his room, still in just a towel, offering a cheeky smile or a wink to the appreciative girls he passed in the corridor. Mixed-gender accommodations – what a boon to a perpetually horny teenager! Just wait till he got on the college rugby team, then the girls would really be knocking down his door.

Alas for Rob, his fantasy would remain just that. Oh, his room would certainly get plenty of visitors in the coming years, just not female ones.

Rob got dressed in the room he shared with Craig – lucky stroke, that. Tom was one floor below, but he was sharing with a fellow rugger named Matt, so it was all good. He would meet them at college later. He glanced briefly at the Fresher's Fortnight programme for the day. Listed for the day was a hypnosis show by Harold Hornsby. Rob rolled his eyes. Hypnosis! What nonsense! He'd seen some of the streaming videos, of students supposedly "going under" and forced to do all sorts of humiliating stuff. Well, he sure as hell wasn't going to embarrass himself like that. But it'd be fun to see who did. What the hell, he had nothing better to do anyway. It was a decision he would regret for the rest of his life.

&&&

Dylan was celebrating another successful show when he got the call. Could he please come down to Fitzrovia College, they had advertised a hypnosis show and the guy they'd scheduled had pulled out. Dylan raised his eyebrows. Obviously the girl on the line hadn't done her research on him. He did do the occasional

"regular" show, but most of the time he was called in when someone wanted a score settled, or for the truth to come out. It was a task at which Dylan excelled, since his talents didn't just cover hypnosis, but also included mind reading and control.

Just the previous night, he'd provided the entertainment at a stag do at the request of the bride's brother. He suspected that the groom was two-timing his sister. It took Dylan only a brief look into the groom's mind to verify that not only was that true, but he was also marrying her for her money and intended to continue seeing his mistress on the side. The best man was in on the scheme too. It really was a shame, thought Dylan, for both men were very good-looking. It just went to show that beauty is only skin-deep. He reported his findings to the bride's brother and asked him what his next move should be. The stag do ended with the naked groom getting fucked hard by his best man in front of a stunned audience. Needless to say, there was no wedding the next day.

The girl on the phone wasn't asking for anything like that. She just wanted a simple, straightforward show. She'd arrange for a few volunteers to meet Dylan beforehand so that he could instruct them on how to act when he put them in a

"trance". She obviously thought Dylan was a fake like so many other hypnotists out there. Dylan decided to humour her. His calendar was free, after all. He'd be there for the show. And no, he didn't need to meet any volunteers beforehand.

&&&

"Mate, where the fuck have you been?" asked Rob as he squeezed into a seat next to Craig in the auditorium.

Craig grinned, a rascally grin that had charmed many a hapless girl into his bed. "Getting myself some pussy, of course. She was fucking amazing man. Did her in all three, twice! She was getting sore by the time we got to round two but who the fuck cares?" The two guys high-fived each other.

Tom, who was on Craig's other side, asked, "So while we were getting pussy, what were you doing in your room all by yourself? Wanking?"

Rob smirked. "Fuck off! Like I even need to wank with all the pussy in this city! I had some bitch over, but I kicked her out at 3 a.m. once I was done with her. Couldn't stand hearing her talk! Anyway, what do you think of this shit? Hypnosis! More like a bunch of wankers making fools of themselves!"

"Hey, you never know. It could be real," said Tom.

Rob shook his head emphatically. "Fuck no. It's all make-believe mate. They pay them to ‘volunteer' when he asks. Then they act like they've been hypnotised."

"That can't be true right? I mean, anyone can volunteer?" remarked Tom. "What if it's not one of the guys who's been paid? That would really fuck up the show."

Craig started to grin. "Why don't you volunteer, Rob? Put your money where your mouth is. Maybe you'll start mooing like a cow just like the hypnotist asks you to."

Rob laughed. "Yeah, right. That's not gonna happen."

"Then do it," Tom dared him. "Volunteer when the guy asks."

Rob looked at the two of them. "Alright, I'll do it, just to prove to you two wankers this shit isn't real."

Craig and Tom smiled smugly and crossed their arms. Just then the lights dimmed and an organiser walked onto the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Harold Hornsby won't be able to present the show today due to illness, but we've lined up another act instead. Please welcome Dylan Johnson to the stage!"

Rob whispered to his friends, "Fuck, that guy doesn't look much older than us!

This is going to be even easier than I thought."

Dylan was only about five years older than the freshers he was supposed to entertain, and his dark curls made him look younger. It didn't help that he was dressed like he should be in college himself. The organisers had frowned when they saw his outfit. They'd expected him to show up in a suit like Harold Hornsby always did. Dylan didn't care. He didn't need a snappy suit to do his job.

Once on stage, he cut right to the act. He wasn't going to waste time on the sort of flowery bullshit Harold usually spouted at the opening of his show.

The organisers were getting concerned. Dylan had refused their offers to meet and brief a few ‘volunteers'. What if this all turned out to be a huge dud?

Dylan, of course, had no such qualms. He only had to think back to his past to know the full extent of his powers. It had come when he turned 16. At first he hadn't understood why he could hear other people's thoughts. He told his parents but they thought he was lonely and making up stuff. Then he'd realized he couldn't just hear their thoughts – he could control them. That revelation was born of desperation. Dylan had known he was gay since he was a kid. The problem was the other boys had guessed it too. In Dylan's rural English village, their response was not tolerance or acceptance, but rather a steady stream of taunts and beatings.

Dylan had gone to his favourite teacher to beg for his assistance against the bullies. He'd nursed a crush on Mr Carter for a long time. He wasn't yet 30, handsome and blond. Dylan thought he would be sympathetic to his plight.

Instead, upon realising what the core issue was, Mr Carter sneered at him and told him to toughen up and not be a pansy. Hearing Mr Carter's inner thoughts, Dylan realised he was a homophobe, just like the other bullies.

A disappointed and heartbroken Dylan walked out of Mr Carter's classroom, where he was ambushed by a bully named James. As James was whaling on him, Dylan mentally willed him to stop ... and it had worked! James stopped mid- strike, with a blank look on his face.

Astonished, Dylan tried more mental commands on James, and the bully responded reluctantly. Emboldened by his success, Dylan ordered James to strip naked. He didn't think it would work, and he could have been knocked over with a feather when James started undressing.

Dylan's mind began to work on a scheme of revenge. But first, he wanted to have try gay sex, and James, a hunky football player, was as good a choice as any. Poor James went home that day not knowing why his mouth tasted like cum or why his arse hurt. Dylan had made sure to erase all memories of himself from James's mind.

Two weeks later Dylan used his mind control on Mr Carter as well. The football team walked into their locker room to find their teacher completely nude, with an equally naked James buggering the hell out of him while he cried out in pleasure and rubbed his hard cock.

Mr Carter was jailed for carnal intercourse with a student and his wife filed for divorce. James's friends, united in their disgust of homosexuals, promptly turned on him instead.

Dylan managed to survive the rest of his school year unscathed thanks to his gift. He'd also use it several times to teach his former bullies a lesson. The villagers would comment how that year's class seemed to have produced an unusually high proportion of gays. They chalked it down to the boys having had that deviant Mr Carter as a teacher. Dylan almost felt sorry for his former teacher – looking into his mind one day, he saw a line of men waiting outside Carter's jail cell, waiting to have their turn at one of his holes. He might have thought gay men to be universally slutty, but he turned out to be the biggest slut of all!

On that day, however, at the Fitzrovia Fresher's Fortnight, Dylan didn't have any plans for revenge or a quest for justice in mind. No, that would only come when he looked into the mind of a beefy rugby player and saw a young gay guy getting punched in the face.

Rob couldn't have known it of course, when he raised his hand to volunteer as he'd been dared to by Craig and Tom. Ultimately, he sealed his own fate, and his friends' too. Their lives would never be the same after that day.

Part 2

Rob didn't remember what the hypnotist said to him. The last thing he remembered was Dylan walking up to him and looking into his eyes and, although he didn't know it then, into his mind.

Unfortunately for Rob, one of his most recent memories was of Miles, the unfortunate gay kid he'd bashed in the showers that morning. Dylan came across it as he was skimming through Rob's mind to plant a mind control trigger. The sight of Miles clutching his bloody nose infuriated him. It brought back unpleasant memories of James and the other school bullies who'd had enjoyed pummelling him with their fists and insults. In a rage he sifted through the rest of Rob's memories, and found far too many of them that churned his stomach. Rob had been bullying gay kids for years.

It was an easy decision to make on the spot. Rob was going to be Dylan's next

‘project': another homophobic jerk to be taught a good, hard lesson. And the stage show offered the perfect start to that lesson.

"Sit down, Rob," snapped Dylan.

Rob obeyed, a blank look on his face. Up in the auditorium, his friends Tom and Craig looked at each other quizzically. Why was Rob playing along with the hypnotist? Surely he hadn't actually fallen for this cheap stage trick?

Dylan was boiling with fury, but he decided to keep Rob for the last. He'd seen some other, very interesting things in the rugby-playing lad's mind, which he was sure he could use to great advantage. So for the next 50 minutes, Rob was left sitting on stage, looking slightly dumb thanks to his blank facial expression but still oh so very hot. Dylan could hear the feelings of lust from the audience. More than one of them was hoping Rob's turn would involve some stripping. Dylan smiled to himself; it most certainly would.

He had the last couple of boys, both of whom he found rather attractive, end their trance by whipping off their shirts and chest-bumping each other. The ensuing applause proved that skin and homoeroticism always went down well with an audience.

Then he turned to his final volunteer. "Okay then, Rob. Up you get. I've got only one simple instruction for you. A musical instruction, to be precise."

Dylan's announcement was purely for the sake of his audience. The truth was he'd already planted the full instructions in Rob's mind telepathically, but he was being paid to put on a show after all!

He walked over to the laptop that was set up on the podium and pressed Play on an audio clip. Immediately the auditorium was filled with the familiar notes of "You Can Leave Your Hat On". The audience, quickly cottoning on, cheered raucously. Well, most of them anyway. Tom and Craig were too stunned to say anything as their best mate started to put on a very public striptease!

A silly, insensible grin on his face, Rob began to undress in time to the lyrics of the song. They were barely a few seconds in when Rob ripped his t-shirt apart, baring his muscular, lightly-furred chest to an appreciative audience. He ran his hands over his beefy pecs and well-defined abs, even tweaking his own nipples and getting them hard. Tom and Craig were laughing now, amused by their friend's apparently self-induced humiliation.

Rob turned around so that the audience had a good view of his meaty arse and shook it for their benefit. Then he coyly began to lower his jeans.

Underneath, all he had on was a pair of tight white trunks, which turned out to be even more revealing when he turned to face his audience.

For you see, Rob's problem that Dylan had noticed while going through his mind was that, for all his chauvinistic bravado, Rob wasn't particularly well- endowed. Mind you, he was only slightly below the average length and girth, but against his big, brawny build it appeared smaller. And in those skin- tight, white pants his endowment was very clearly outlined for all to see! The audience's cheers turned into a mix of wolf-whistles and awkward laughter, to which Rob was utterly oblivious. He had his arms raised above his head as he thrust and pirouetted on stage, giving everyone a good long look at his chiselled torso, beefy thighs, luscious arse and decidedly small bulge.

Tom and Craig had stopped laughing. They were slack-jawed at how far their macho friend had fallen. But it was about to get worse. Rob turned his back to the audience once more and started pulling down his pants, revealing the top of his arse to the crowd, which went wild.

At this point Dylan made a show of trying to halt Rob's striptease. "Alright Rob, that'll be enough. Put your clothes back on now, please."

Rob didn't seem to hear him. That was because Dylan's telepathic instructions had ordered him to ignore any other command until he'd stripped completely naked. He pulled the trunks down in one swift motion and turned to face the audience with one hand cupping his cock and balls. He tossed the underwear into the audience, where a couple of girls made a grab for it. All other eyes were fixed on him, as the audience waited with bated breath to see if Rob would actually go full frontal.

Tom and Craig were the only ones watching with a mixture of horror and second- hand embarrassment. Many of the others had their camera phones out to capture Rob's striptease for posterity. Eagle-eyed spectators zoomed in to see that Rob kept his pubic hair trimmed short, in a vain attempt to make his cock look bigger.

Then Rob dropped his hand from his crotch, and the ensuing squeals quite literally rattled the windows of the auditorium. Dylan waited a few seconds, dragging out Rob's full frontal exposure, before shouting to be heard over the crowd. "That's enough Rob, please get dressed!"

At that, Rob snapped back to consciousness. It took a moment for him to realize he was totally naked in front of the audience. Turning beet red with humiliation, Rob scrambled to find his clothes. Unfortunately he'd ripped his t-shirt in two and lost his underwear to the audience, so all he had was a pair of baggy jeans. As he struggled to pull them on, Dylan apologized for letting the show get out of hand and thanked the audience for being so responsive. He knew nobody was paying attention anyway; they were too busy comparing video clips and joking about Rob's cock size.

Tom and Craig had bounded down the stairs to their mate. "What the fuck man?

You said this hypnosis shit was fake, and then you end up doing the fucking full monty in front of everybody?!"

Rob couldn't answer; he was too shell-shocked and overcome with acute shame.

He knew everyone had seen his cock, that some of them had even captured it on camera. Within the hour the clip would be streamed online. How was he going to get through the next three years at Fitzrovia when practically every fresher had seen him stark bollocks naked?

"It's that guy," said Tom suddenly. "That fucking hypnotist! He must be some kind of faggot. Why else would he get a guy to strip naked like that? Where the fuck is he?" He and Craig looked around, but they didn't see Dylan. He had taken the wise precaution of clearing out backstage in the pandemonium.

"I – I don't care," said Rob. He was struggling not to cry. He was still half- naked and the baggy jeans threatened to reveal even more at any moment. "Do either of you guys have a jacket?" They didn't. The heat of summer was still lingering into mid-September and no one had felt like putting on outerwear that day, much to Rob's misfortune.

"I'm going back to halls," he said. He was hoping one of them would offer to accompany him but both Tom and Craig were suddenly conscious about being seen with a small-dicked exhibitionist.

"Uh, you go ahead, mate," said Craig.

"Yeah," replied Tom, "we're gonna hit the SU Bar for some lunch first. We'll see you later yeah?" Without waiting for his answer the two of them quickly turned on their heels and left.

Deflated, Rob watched them leave. He was terribly aware that some students were still hanging around in the auditorium, eyeing his half-naked body.

Suddenly he wasn't so proud of his gym-honed physique. He scuttled backstage, hoping it would lead out of the building.

Unluckily, it also led him to Dylan, who was waiting just in front of the backstage exit doors.

"Well, hello again, Rob."

Unnerved as he was by the events of the day, Rob almost jumped out of his skin. Then he realized who it was.

"You fucking faggot!" he snarled, dashing at him with his fists raised.

Dylan simply said, "Stop." Rob found himself frozen in place.

"You've really got to do something about that nasty homophobia of yours, Robbie boy." Dylan walked around Rob, casting an appraising eye over his handsome figure. "It's going to lead you into trouble one of these days."

He walked round to Rob's front and twisted a nipple sharply, making Rob wince.

"Oh wait, it already has."

"I don't know how you're doing this but I'm going to fucking kill you," Rob threatened with great effort through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I don't think so. We're going to have a lot of fun together, you and I.

I'm going to open you up to a whole world you never knew existed. Now, where do you live?"

Rob was forced to answer in spite of himself. "Cleveland Hall."

"And do you have a roommate? Yes, I can see that you do." Dylan trawled through Rob's mind. "Not a bad-looking fella is he, this Craig? A bit on the small side for a rugby player though ... and oh dear, another homophobe. And you've got yet another mate who's just as bad. I must've stepped through the mirror to Homophobeland." Dylan chuckled at his own joke while Rob glared at him.

"Oh well, I dare say I can save Tom and Craig for another day. You're going to need a fair bit of work first. Let's head back to your halls shall we?"

Rob found himself unfrozen but, as hard as he tried, he couldn't do anything except follow Dylan. He couldn't even adjust his jeans as they kept slipping further down with every step. Soon he was exposing the top of his crack and trimmed pubes to the people on the street. His eyes pricked with tears at his continued humiliation. Luckily Cleveland Hall wasn't far from the college and they arrived there within five minutes, although it seemed much longer to poor Rob.

The hall receptionist raised an eyebrow at Rob's shirtless state but didn't say anything as Rob signed in his "guest".

"Ah, this is perfect," remarked Dylan as he surveyed the room Rob shared with Craig. It was a corner room with windows along two walls. One panel overlooked the street and the other, a grassy courtyard across from the hall's dining room. It was indeed perfect for Dylan's plan to heap humiliation on the rugby stud.

"Take off your jeans," he ordered. Rob obeyed, conscious of the fact that he was standing in front of the open windows.

"Face the street and stroke yourself hard."

A whimper escaped Rob but he did as he was told. There was no one to see him

(at least not right then) but the sense of exposure was overwhelming for the under-endowed lad. He was thus greatly relieved when Dylan asked him to draw the curtains.

His relief didn't last long though as Dylan shared his plans. "I'm going to find Miles now. In the meantime, you stand right there, facing the door and keep wanking but do not cum. If I find you without a hard-on when I return, I'll have you go out onto the street and wank there until you do cum. Do you understand?"

Rob stared at him in mute horror, but his hand continued to mechanically stroke his cock. It was okay because Dylan wasn't really expecting an answer anyway. "Good. I'll be right back."

It took a bit longer than he expected. He found Miles's room easily enough, since it was on the same floor as Rob's and had his name on the door. The difficult bit was convincing Miles to follow him back to the room of the guy who'd punched him earlier that day. In the end Dylan had to resort to a subtle piece of mind control.

Miles's apprehension melted away the moment he stepped into Rob's room. His eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight of the tearful stud standing there, completely naked, wanking his hard cock.

"W-what's going on?" he managed to ask without tearing his eyes away from Rob's rigid member.

"I'm afraid you missed quite the show at college today due to Rob's nasty attitude. So he'd like to make it up to you now with an apology and a private show. Isn't that right, Rob?"

What Rob wanted was to strangle both the poofs in front of him, but what come out of his mouth instead was a reluctant "Sorry".

Miles wasn't that gullible. With much difficulty, he wrenched his gaze away from Rob to look at Dylan instead. "What's really going on?"

"Oh, okay. I can read and control minds. When I saw how Rob treated you this morning, I thought you'd like a chance for a little payback."

"You're shitting me," said Miles suspiciously. "If you can really read and control minds, prove it."

Dylan grinned. "The naked homophobe wanking in front of you isn't proof enough? Sheesh, so many doubters today! Very well. Rob, stick your finger in your mouth and then stick it up your bum."

Miles watched wide-eyed as Rob licked his finger and then shoved it, with a pained wince, up his own arse.

"And you thought that was incredibly hot but you'd find it even hotter if he could fit 4 fingers in there." Dylan reported Miles's thoughts in a matter-of- fact way.

"Fuck," was all the blond teenager could say.

"I'm glad you brought that up. Would you like to?"

"Fuck?" repeated Miles.

"Yes, Miles," Dylan said patiently. "Would you like to be Rob's first? I do believe he is a virgin when it comes to gay sex, not unlike you."

Miles blushed. "How did you... oh. I, I don't know."

"Miles, I'm no fan of Robbie boy but have you seen that arse? If you're not going to take his cherry then I will. I just thought I'd give you first dibs because of what he did to you."

"It's not that," clarified Miles. "It's just that I'm not, I'm not... I'm not sure I can top." His pale face coloured at the admission.

Dylan smiled kindly at him. "I think I have a solution for that, but we'd best hurry. Rob's roommate may be back at any moment." He started taking off his clothes, revealing a slim and nicely-toned body.

Miles watched him disrobe with his mouth open but made no movement to undress himself.

"Come on, Miles," said Dylan impatiently. "We haven't got all day."

Feeling like he was in a dream (a very wonderful dream), Miles shyly began to take off his clothes. He didn't have a gym body, but he wasn't scrawny either.

He was pale and smooth all over. Standing there nervously in just his colourful briefs, Dylan thought him terribly cute.

"I know it's your first time," said Dylan, "so I'm going to try and make it special for you, okay?"

Miles nodded and then drew in his breath sharply as the underwear-clad Dylan stepped right up to him and started kissing him. Tenderly at first, and then more passionately. He ran his hands down Miles's back and into his briefs, grabbing firm handfuls of that soft, white arse. Miles was feeling bolder by the second. With only slight hesitation he slipped one hand down the front of Dylan's striped trunks and began to fondle his cock.

Dylan mentally willed Rob to come over and kneel down behind Miles while he pulled off Miles's underwear, freeing his rampantly hard dick. Dylan noted that, ironically, both he and Miles were better endowed than the oh-so-manly rugby stud.

Suddenly Miles jumped as he felt something cool and wet prodding at his virgin arsehole. "Oh my God, is that...?"

Dylan, who was busy working his way down Miles's body, looked up and grinned.

"Yes, what better way to introduce a homophobe to gay sex than rimming?" Rob had his tongue stuck in Miles's crack, rimming him for all he was worth. Dylan had been very precise in his telepathic instructions: Rob was to kiss, lick, suck and tongue-fuck Miles's hole. The straight lad was squirming inside but was helpless to stop himself from repeating the routine vigorously until Dylan told him to stop.

Miles's cock twitched and a string of clear pre-cum trailed down to the floor.

Dylan caught it in his mouth and followed it upwards until he had Miles's dick enveloped in his mouth. The twin sensations of having his cock sucked and his arse rimmed at the same time were too much for the virginal teen, and he shot his first load of the day into Dylan's mouth within seconds.

"Oh, shit. I'm sorry!" gasped Miles.

Dylan licked his lips and smiled. "Don't be. You taste absolutely delicious.

Do you want a taste?" He stood up and kissed Miles with a mouthful of cum.

Miles broke off the kiss and said, "You know who would really enjoy this?"

There was a wicked glint in his eye.

"I like the way you think. Arse-licker, get up here." Rob clambered to his feet, trying to forget the taste of male arse on his tongue. The mouthful of cum he received didn't help in that quest at all.

"Use that cum to slick up your fingers," Dylan told him. "And then start feeding your fingers into your hole one at a time." Trembling with impotent rage, Rob did exactly that.

In the meantime, Dylan led Miles over to one of the beds and had him lie on his back. He'd discovered a bottle of body lotion in the room and he slicked up his fingers with some. Miles was watching him nervously. He leaned down and gave him a soft kiss. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle."

He carefully inserted a well-lubricated finger into Miles's arse and worked it in carefully. Only when he was sure that Miles was comfortable with the intrusion did he add a second and, finally, a third finger.

At that point they were interrupted by a particularly loud yelp from Rob. The stupid fucker had all four fingers of one hand buried in his arse and was now trying to fit his thumb in there as well.

Dylan rolled his eyes. "I said fingers, you idiot. Not your whole fist!" A relieved Rob stopped trying to fist-fuck himself. The four fingers alone were stretching his virginal arse beyond belief. It was making him whimper and his body was drenched with sweat. His cock, however, remained rock hard.

Dylan turned back to Miles. "Are you ready for this?"

Miles nodded, tight-lipped. Dylan withdrew his fingers from Miles's hole and replaced them with the tip of his cock. He'd liberally coated it with lotion and, having stretched Miles's arse with three fingers, he was able to slide in fairly easily. There was a sharp intake of breath from Miles as he sank his cock in but Dylan bent over to snog him and Miles rapidly forgot the pain as it gave way to pleasure. His erection returned swiftly which meant the time had come for Rob to properly lose his arse cherry to another man.

"Sit yourself over Miles's cock and fuck yourself," Dylan commanded Rob. The beefy rugby player looked a strange sight as he squatted over the smaller, geeky blond and lined up his arsehole with Miles's cock.

He started to gingerly lower himself onto the rigid pole but Dylan snapped,

"Faster, bitch!"

Rob howled in agony as he was forced to impale himself on all seven inches in a matter of seconds. The strange thing was that, despite the pain, Rob's four- inch cock remained firmly erect. He and Dylan started to build up a rhythm as he fucked himself on Miles and Dylan fucked Miles. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the smell of man sex permeated the room.

The first to cum was Rob, spattering his seed all over Miles's cute face. He'd been building up pressure for almost an hour so it was really no surprise, but it didn't lessen his shame. He had ejaculated while getting arse-fucked. For a straight lad that was one hell of a mind-fuck.

Dylan and Miles climaxed shortly thereafter, within seconds of each other.

Dylan thought it was a terrible pity he hadn't brought along some edible lube or he could've had Rob eat his load out of Miles's arse. He made a mental note to do that next time. Instead he made Rob clean his load off Miles with his tongue, and turned it into a full-body tongue-bath. They particularly enjoyed watching Rob squirm as he licked out Miles's sweaty armpits.

By the time they were done it was past one o'clock, and Dylan knew Craig would probably be home soon. He made sure to embed a few more instructions in Rob's mind before leaving the sweaty and sore stud alone in a room smelling strongly of sex. He wondered how Rob would explain that to Craig.

Part 3

When Rob had first arrived at Fitzrovia College two weeks earlier, he'd resolved to get noticed. Of course he'd intended to do that as a rugby player and a ladies' man. Sadly for him, he would indeed get noticed, but for very different reasons.

The main topic of conversation at the SU Bar that lunchtime was Rob's free striptease in front of the freshers. Plenty of bawdy comments were being made about Rob's stripper moves, his physique and, of course, his endowment. Even those who hadn't been at the show were now fully informed thanks to the video clips being shared across the campus and put online for an even wider, more public audience. Everyone was having a good laugh at poor Rob's expense.

Rob might have been astonished to find two of the guys joining in the merriment were his own supposed best friends, Craig and Tom. They were surrounded by several members of the college's rugby team. There was the cocky, raven-haired Danny; buff, mocha-skinned Ricky; handsome and pale Nico;

stocky and stolid Stephen; as well as cute, hairy Chris. Rounding out the company was Tom's roommate and fellow rugby enthusiast, Matt, a suave, verging-on-pretty blond.

"I mean, I've seen him naked before in the showers but I never quite realized how small he was," laughed Tom.

"Well, at least now we know what his nickname will be if he gets on the team,"

smirked Danny.

"Tiny?" suggested Ricky with a wide grin. Known in the team for having an 11-inch cock of his own, he was well-poised to suggest the epithet for Rob's comparatively puny dick.

"Wait a minute, don't you share a room with Tiny Rob?" Chris asked Craig.

"Yeah, but it's not like he gets his cock out in our room!" Craig couldn't help sounding a tad defensive, afraid of being labelled guilty by association.

"Well, he had no problems getting it out in front of everyone today," pointed out Nico. "That can't have out of nowhere."

"Maybe it was because of the hypnotist?" suggested Stephen.

"Nah, that's just bullshit. Even if that crap had worked, and I don't believe it did, the hypnotist actually asked Rob to stop before he got completely naked but he just went ahead anyway," recalled Matt. "The bloke seemed shocked and uncomfortable."

"Who wouldn't be?" retorted Chris, "seeing that tiny thing waved in your face!"

The group collapsed in snickers, Tom and Craig included. But at the back of his mind, Craig couldn't help wondering if he didn't know Rob as well as he'd thought he did. His doubts were reinforced as soon as he reached the room they shared in Cleveland Hall.

"WHAT THE FUCK MAN?"

Rob was standing in the centre of the room, working out with his dumbbells.

That in itself wasn't the problem; Rob did often exercise in their room since he hadn't gotten a gym membership here yet. But he'd never done it before in the nude, right in front of the windows. Anyone looking up from the street or the courtyard would have a fairly good view of the sweaty lad in all his small-dicked glory. Now that Craig thought about it, he'd passed a small gaggle of people on the street outside, who had been laughing and pointing up at their corner of the building.

Rob didn't have an answer for Craig. He knew why he was doing it, but Dylan had implanted his mind with a very specific ban on mentioning anything to do with him, Miles or mind control. So although he was dying inside of mortification, he was helpless to defend himself from appearing like an exhibitionistic pervert to his best mate.

Craig hurried over to the windows and drew the curtains. He tried not to look at his roommate's naked body or at the spectators looking up at the windows.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Rob?" he spat.

Overwhelmed by his own embarrassment at his roommate's bizarre and very public exposure, he didn't bother to mince his words. "Have you developed some sort of fucking exhibitionist streak since this morning? Did it make you realize that you liked exposing your pathetic little cock to everyone? Do you know they're all laughing at you? In college, in the street ... probably all over the fucking internet by now!"

Craig's words were like a knife to the heart for Rob. Not only because he'd laid out the awful extent of Rob's humiliation, but also because he was delivering that information without a trace of sympathy or puzzlement. This was the guy who was supposed to be his best mate! Rob was beginning to discover how much, or how little, their friendship actually meant.

"I, I didn't mean to-" was the only lame excuse Rob could come up with.

Craig was disbelieving. "You didn't realize you were naked? That the curtains weren't drawn? That there was a fucking crowd outside watching you bounce your little cock all over our room?"

Rob hung his head in shame. Put like that, he couldn't explain it away without mentioning Dylan's control over his mind, which of course he was expressly forbidden to do.

"And why does this room smell of ..." Craig's voice trailed off as he recognized the smell of cum underlying the stench of sweat. His face turned redder. "Have you been WANKING in our room? While everybody out there watched?"

"No, I haven't!" Rob exclaimed, truthfully enough. Of course he couldn't share the FULL truth of how the room came to reek of cum.

"I can smell it, damn it! You're getting off on this, on exposing yourself!

That's sick man! It's perverted!"

Rob tried to defend himself but Craig was too outraged to let him speak.

"Get out of my room!" he shouted.

"This is my room too," Rob pointed out.

"Alright then, you can keep the stinking room! I don't want to sleep here tonight anyway! I'm going to Tom's." Craig started grabbing some of his belongings and stuffing them into an overnight bag.

"You can't move out just like that!"

"I'm not moving out. At least, not right now. If you're still in this fucking queer mood when I come back tomorrow, then I'll probably have to."

Rob could only watch, slack-jawed, as Craig finished packing and strode over to the door. He paused there for a moment to look back at Rob, shake his head and spit out one word: "Freak!"

And then the door slammed shut, leaving Rob alone again in the room. He sat down heavily on his bed and held his head in his hands, barely holding the tears at bay. He couldn't believe how quickly his life had fallen apart. And the worst thing was the knowledge that this was only the tip of the iceberg;

he had further instructions from Dylan to satisfy.

He got up and rooted in the wardrobe for the most revealing clothes he could find. A white tanktop that he'd outgrown and used nowadays only to sleep in, as well as his tightest pair of rugby shorts (also white). He reached automatically for some underwear but his subjugated mind rejected all the available choices as not being sufficiently skimpy. He was going commando.

As Rob headed out of the room, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

His eyes filled with tears of shame. The tanktop fit him like a second skin, featuring his nipples prominently through the thin fabric, while the skimpy shorts hugged his muscular arse at the rear and revealed a decidedly lacking bulge at the front. To top it all off, he wasn't allowed to shower or even towel himself dry after his workout, so not only did he reek of sweat and sex, but there were also damp, translucent patches on his clothes.

But Rob was powerless to change his clothes or stop himself from going out dressed as he was. The commands Dylan had embedded in his mind were very powerful and very precise. Rob had to follow them to the letter, no matter how great his humiliation.

On his way out of Cleveland Hall, he passed the reception desk again and got another weird look from the receptionist. But that was nothing compared to the stares he received from the shoppers and tourists he strolled past (Rob wanted to hurry but his mind wouldn't let him).

Twenty torturous minutes later, Rob found himself in a part of the city he'd never ventured into before: Soho. Dylan had made sure to plant a map of the neighbourhood in Rob's mind so that he wouldn't get lost.

Looking around, Rob had no doubt he was now in a gay village. Shop fronts featured rainbow flags and/or posters of scantily clad men. The nearby garden square was filled with male couples enjoying the autumnal sunshine and each other's company. Rob turned away in disgust as one man casually kissed his partner, like it was normal and perfectly fine.

His destination, however, gave him little relief. The ground floor was occupied by a shop selling underwear and swimwear clearly marketed at gay men.

Next to a window display of underwear Rob was sure no self-respecting man would wear, there was a door leading to the upper floors. He automatically pressed the buzzer for Flat 222b. The label next to the button read ‘Jones &

Johnson – Talents & Photography', which made Rob feel ever more concerned.

He had to wait several uncomfortable moments, very aware that many of the male passers-by were checking him out in his revealing costume, before someone came down to open the door. Rob suspected from his shaggy-haired, surfer-dude look that he wasn't British, and his Californian accent quickly confirmed it.

"Hey, you must be Dylan's newest project." The dark-haired American held out his hand for Rob, who just glared at it scornfully. The smile on the guy's face didn't falter. "Oops, my bad. Sometimes I forget I don't have his gift.

Never mind. I'm Oliver, the Jones in Jones & Johnson. My pals call me Ollie.

But then you already know that, right?"

Rob nodded tersely. Dylan had specified that he was to follow any and all instructions issued by Ollie, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

Ollie eyed him quizzically. "Did Dylan say you weren't to speak at all? If not I'd appreciate verbal answers. I really can't read stoic British faces."

"Yes I can speak," Rob replied resentfully. "I just don't want to speak to you."

"Ouch," said Ollie with a playful wince. "And you don't even know me yet."

"You're obviously one of his mates. That's enough for me to know you're going to do some sick stuff to me."

"Hmm, that depends on what you mean by ‘sick stuff'. I personally think we're gonna have fun together." Ollie gave Rob the once-over. "Yeah, definitely gonna have fun with you. Come on up."

Rob unwillingly followed him up the stairs. Flat 222b turned out to be equal parts studio, office and home. It was the former function that Ollie intended to use with Rob that afternoon. Rob's heart sank when he saw all the photographic equipment scattered around the large room overlooking the street.

"Are you ... going to take pictures of me?" he asked hesitantly.

Ollie beamed. "Yes, Rob, right in one. Photography's kind of my thing, y'know.

I like to think I'm pretty good at it."

"That's why you have this pokey little studio above a gay underwear shop in Soho?" Rob asked distrustfully.

Ollie didn't take offense. He'd dealt with so many of Dylan's projects in the past and was used to the difficult personalities they had. "I actually used to work a pretty high-profile gig back in LA. That's where I met her. We had this on-and-off thing ... well, I thought it was on more often than off, but she didn't. Basically she broke my heart and stomped on the pieces."

Now Rob was convinced Ollie was lying to him. "You expect me to believe you were with a girl? That you're straight?"

Ollie shrugged. "Well, yeah. At least until I met Dylan, a couple of years back. I had to get away from her, you see, and London seemed far enough from LA."

Rob's eyes widened. "Wait, are you telling me he victimised you too? Turned you gay?"

"Oh no, I wasn't a ‘victim' of Dylan's. He helped me tap into my bisexual side because I asked him to."

"What?" Rob exclaimed incredulously.

"I was sick of them. Girls, I mean. They just seem to jerk you around. I ran into Dylan at a bar here and we got to talking. We had our marketing background in common. But Dylan soon sensed where my head was really at, so he offered to help. Mind you, I didn't believe in hypnosis or mind control back then. I thought it was gonna be some cheap magic trick. But as you obviously know already, Dylan's the real deal."

"And you asked him to turn you gay?" asked Rob in disbelief.

"Well, not exactly. I wanted to stop falling for girls."

"And fall for guys instead? Ew!"

"Please stop interrupting and let me finish," Ollie responded patiently.

"That's where we differ, Rob. I never thought guys being into other guys were

‘ew'. At the same time, I'd never been inclined that way myself. Dylan just helped to awaken that side of me, to give me the nerve to try something new.

And then I found it was, well, just as good. I could still go on dates with women if I felt like it, but now I can see the appeal of hot guys and gay sex too. Have you ever cum from taking it up the butt?"

The look on Rob's face was enough for Ollie to know he had, even before Rob answered (as he was compelled to) in the affirmative.

"Yeah, it's pretty intense, huh. I don't regret that night with Dylan at all.

In fact it's probably the best sex I'll ever have." Ollie grinned at Rob.

"Maybe you and I can try to beat that today."

Rob felt sickened. Ollie had obviously embraced whatever mind-fuck Dylan had inflicted on him. He wondered if he was going to turn out like Ollie:

welcoming the chance to get fucked like some cunt. No, he wouldn't; he was shuddering just from thinking about it. There was no way he'd become some queer freak.

"Anyway, that's enough chit-chat," said Ollie. "It's time for us to get down to business. THIS is our business, by the way. Dylan and I realized we might as well combine our marketing experience – well, mostly mine, he was just starting out in graphic design back then – and branch out on our own. After all, thanks to Dylan's gift we have a steady stream of models like yourself, and it would be such a shame to waste all your, um, talent."

There was no appropriate response Rob could make to that.

"Now please strip, so that I can see what I'm working with. Well, I can already sort of guess with those clothes, but I'd see more if you were naked."

Rob stripped helplessly, watched keenly by Ollie. "What are you going to do with the photos that you take of me?" he asked.

"Oh, we've actually been asked to put together an ad campaign for the store downstairs. They've given us plenty of sample products that Dylan thought you'd look good in, and I have to agree. In fact, you should take some of them back with you when we're done with the shoot, since Dylan told me your wardrobe needed an overhaul."

Rob remembered the window display downstairs with dismay. "You're not actually going to put up photos of me dressed in those... things?"

Ollie laughed. "I don't think any company would pay us that kind of money just so they can keep the prints in storage. Of course they'll put them up.

Definitely they will have posters in their store, and they'll probably advertise in gay magazines and websites too, maybe even some of the bus stops around Soho."

Rob was devastated. He'd believed his ‘Full Monty' striptease that morning to have been horribly public, but this was ten times worse! His image was going to be splashed all over as a model for gay men's underwear.

"Look, maybe you're okay with being lusted after by faggots and having sex with them, but I'm not! As a straight bloke you have to understand that on some level. You can't force me to do this shit!"

Ollie sighed. "Dyl did warn me about your attitude. It's precisely because of your prejudice that you need to do this stuff. No, don't speak. Not until I give you permission again. We can get this done a lot quicker if I don't have to listen to your homophobic crap."

Rob shut up and put on the first pair of underwear: very tight, bright red, low-rise spandex briefs.

Ollie eyed him critically. "Hmm. I know you've trimmed your pubic hair, but I think we need to shave it off completely. It looks messy to have it poking out above the waistband like that, and it'll definitely be unseemly when we get to the really skimpy underpants." He disappeared into the back of the flat and returned with shaving paraphernalia.

The last thing Rob wanted was to have his groin shaved bald, but obviously he had no say in the matter. He had to strip out of his pants again to endure a very close shave of his crotch. Ollie's manipulation of his genitals during the process ensured a firm erection by the time he was done.

"Bet you get loads of crap for that little fella, huh?" said Ollie as he wiped off the remaining foam with a dampened towel. "Now let me see, where'd I put that bottle of baby oil?"

He found it and had Rob stand with his arms outstretched and legs apart so that he could oil him up.

"You football players, sorry I mean rugby players, are pretty muscly," Ollie commented as he copped a feel of Rob's beefy pecs. He made sure he did a thorough job, particularly when it came to Rob's backside. Rob wriggled unhappily but silently as he got finger-fucked for another time that day.

"Right, that should do it," Ollie stated as he stepped back to admire his handiwork. Rob's body glistened under the bright studio lights and the oil really accentuated his muscles. His cock was still half-hard at 3 inches long.

"You know, Rob, you look so good that I think I'll snap a few pics of you like this before you actually model the underwear." Ollie made Rob take several revealing poses, with his cock, armpits or arsehole exposed to the lens.

"Now try on those red briefs again," said Ollie. "Yeah, much better now." He snapped even more pics, ordering Rob to smile for the camera even though Rob didn't feel like smiling at all.

The underwear Rob had to model grew progressively skimpier. The briefs gave way to jockstraps and thongs; cotton and spandex to mesh and panels of bare skin. He also had to pose in a few items of swimwear (all Speedos, not the boardshorts that Rob himself would have favoured).

By the time they were wrapping up the shoot, all Rob had on was a mesh pouch holding his cock and balls, held together with a string around his waist and up his arse-crack. He was shaking from the mortification. His life would be over if anyone in the college saw even one of these pics.

It was a blessed relief when Ollie finally said, "Okay, that's a wrap."

But if Rob thought his ordeal was over, he was sorely mistaken.

"So Dylan told me I could put my edible lube to good use with you," Ollie mentioned casually as he was stowing away the equipment. Rob looked at him blankly.

Ollie shook his head and smiled. "Yeah, he did also say you were a bit slow on the uptake. Come over to me. Good. Now undress me."

Rob roughly tugged the bottom hem of Ollie's t-shirt and pulled it up and off, revealing a smooth, lanky torso. He was struggling with the belt buckle when Ollie caught his hands.

"Not like that," he said softly. "Gently. I want you to make love to me."

Rob wanted to sob with impotent rage. It wasn't bad enough he had to do sex stuff with another guy, but he had to pretend he wanted to?

Ollie tried to give him some pointers. "Kiss me, my lips, my neck. Suck on my nipples. I'm sure you do that stuff with girls, right? So treat this like it's no different."

In spite of himself, Rob was compelled to undress Ollie tenderly and shower him with kisses all the way down his body. As he knelt down to remove Ollie's white briefs, he was smacked in the face by his dribbling erection. "Sorry,"

giggled Ollie. "I hope that won't put you off sucking my cock."

Rob had no choice but to take his first-ever cock in his mouth. Unsurprisingly he didn't do a very good job.

"Ow!" Ollie cried out. "Watch the teeth! Maybe a blowjob isn't such a good idea for a novice. Move your tongue down to my ass. I believe you've done some rimming already? Dylan taught you his special technique? Great, get to work."

A disgusted Rob actually found himself wishing he was better at giving blowjobs, if only because then he wouldn't have do the infinitely worse act of rimming! But his rimming technique couldn't be faulted; Dylan had drummed the four steps into his brain. Ollie was soon moaning loudly in pleasure as Rob worked his tongue deep into Ollie's hole.

"Fuck, I think I'm ready to blow my wad just from you eating me out," gasped Ollie. He was fisting his erection, which stood proudly at nearly 7 inches amidst a thatch of black pubes. "You know, I don't think I even need lube.

You've got me pretty wet back there already and your cock is certainly a manageable size."

Rob paused in his rimming to stare up at him. Did Ollie actually mean for him to fuck his arse?

"Oh come on, damn it! Before I fucking blow. Get your cock in my butt."

Rob scrambled to his feet and lined his cock up against Ollie's sphincter.

"Give it to me already," groaned Ollie, his voice thick with desire. That was all the confirmation Rob needed to sink his cock into him.

"Oh jeez, that feels so fucking good," sighed Ollie. "Now fuck me dude. I don't think you need me to tell you how..."

He didn't. Rob might not have known how to give blowjobs, rim an arse or take a cock in his own, but he was a consummate professional when it came to fucking. It was no wonder he was able to satisfy all those girls despite being underendowed. He complemented the sex act by nibbling on Ollie's nipples and showering him with kisses. Lost in bliss, Ollie alternated between stroking Rob's muscular back and fingering his sweaty arse.

He didn't last very long before he came all over himself, his rigid dick untouched. He made Rob continue fucking him until he climaxed a second time.

In between, Rob shot his own load inside Ollie's arse.

"Phew. That was one hell of a fuck," Ollie said eventually. He was covered in sweat and cum but was grinning from ear to ear. "I didn't think you could even remotely match my first time with Dylan, but that was pretty darn close. You know what would make this perfect? If you lick me clean with your tongue."

Wearily, Rob gave Ollie a tongue bath. He mopped up Ollie's cum-spattered torso and sucked his own cum out of Ollie's arse. He was troubled by how familiar the taste of cum and sweat was becoming!

Ollie was hard again by the time Rob finished the tongue bath, but luckily he didn't insist on pumping out another load. It was getting dark outside and Rob just wanted to go home. And get some food – all he'd had to eat since breakfast was cum!

"Don't look so glum, Rob. We're gonna be seeing a lot more of each other,"

promised Ollie. "Now you'd best pack up those underwear samples and scoot off home."

Rob didn't need to be told twice. He was out of there like a shot, much to Ollie's amusement. He stopped along the way at a supermarket to grab some food. The cashier wrinkled her nose at him because he smelt strongly of sex and sweat, but he was beyond caring. He couldn't wait to get back to halls, scrub himself clean, and crash out in his bed in the hope that Dylan's hold over him would somehow be gone in the morning.

Alas, it was not to be. No sooner had he wolfed down his food, there was a knock on his room door. He rushed to open it, in the expectation that it was Craig, come to make amends.

It wasn't Craig. Miles grinned to see him. "Oh, hi again, Rob. Dylan asked me to pass along some instructions. Can I come in? Yes, I rather think I shall."

Part 4

By the time the morning rolled around, Rob was knackered. He had spent most of the night having sex with Miles in every imaginable position (and several unimaginable ones!). For a boy who'd never had been with men before that day, Miles had a wide berth of knowledge about the various gay sex acts. He also had seemingly infinite stamina; it turned out Miles could cum as many as 8 times a day. Unfortunately for Rob, this was one of those days. And of course Miles made him eat all the cum, even scooping out what he'd dumped in Rob's long-suffering arse. Rob felt like he'd have cum running out of his ears by the time Miles was through with him!

Rob's plight was not eased by Miles's unerring grasp of how best to humiliate him. Miles ordered Rob to keep his lips constantly attached to some part of Miles's body. Mostly it was just snogging (proper tongue-down-throat snogging!) but he also quite liked it when Rob was kissing his neck and his nipples. And then, of course, there was the rimming – Rob had his face buried in Miles's arse for well over an hour, eating out his hole like it was an all- you-can-eat buffet. Kiss, lick, suck and tongue-fuck ... over and over again Rob was forced to repeat the technique till all he could taste and smell was male arse. However much he hated rimming (above all else), he was powerless to tear his face away from Miles's bum. By the time he was done, Rob's face was dripping with sweat, spit and arse juices – an image which Miles made sure to capture on camera for posterity.

The blond teen also took it upon himself to teach Rob the proper way to give a blowjob by forcing him to sit through several gay porn videos. Rob was disgusted watching men get passionate with each other in the videos but he was forbidden to look away from the screen or to stop wanking his cock.

Miles, who'd watched it all before (many times), spent the time playing with Rob's body. For a sex-starved teenage boy, the muscular physique of a young rugby player offered boundless delights. Every part of Rob's anatomy was firmly groped or molested in some way, but it was his nipples and his arsehole that saw the most action. Miles kissed, nibbled, twisted and stretched Rob's nipples until they were puffy and sore before turning his attention to Rob's arse. Four fingers were buried into the warm, moist hole in quick succession, stretching the tight orifice uncomfortably. Rob squirmed as Miles finger- fucked him hard and fast, but his eyes remained fixed on the porn and his shame grew along with his erection.

"How do you like that?" whispered Miles in Rob's ear as the muscle hunk on screen got double-penetrated by two twinks. "That's going to be you soon ...

taking two cocks up your arse at the same time ... I bet it'll really stretch this tight little arse of yours. That would so hot ... a big bloke like you stuck like a pig on two cocks ..."

Rob stared in horror as the camera zoomed in on the porn actor's loose, sloppy hole after it was vacated by his fuckers. But the arse-fingering and cock- wanking had their intended effect and he shot his load on the computer screen.

Miles tutted. "Yeah, you're loving this a bit too much I think. Lick your mess up before it fries the electronics and we'll order some stuff online to get you started on your path to total sluthood." Rob was almost as appalled by the size of the sex toys as he was by Miles charging them to Rob's bank card, with a same-day delivery surcharge no less!

"I think I've still got another load left in me," mused Miles. "Let's see what you've learnt about sucking cock." It turned out Rob was a quick learner when his mind was being controlled. He was able to bring Miles to another climax within a matter of minutes.

Miles sighed in contentment as he watched Rob's face twist in disgust at having to swallow more cum. "I think I'm fresh out, but that doesn't mean you can't lick me clean. You're getting really talented at using your tongue." He grinned. "I wonder what your rugby mates would think if they saw you now."

Rob's eyes widened as he remembered that he was supposed to try out for the college rugby team that morning. Miles caught the look. "What's the matter?

Tell me."

Put that way, Rob was compelled to answer. Miles's grin grew wider. "Oh you're going alright. And I'm choosing what you wear."

Rob's heart sunk. Any outfit Miles picked out for him was bound to be very revealing. Sure enough, he was made to wear a skin-tight lycra top that accentuated every contour of his torso and chafed his tender nipples terribly.

He also had on the same shorts he'd worn the previous evening, which clearly showed up the lime-green jockstrap he had on underneath. (This was from the collection of underwear that Ollie had given him; Rob himself would never have bought something so skimpy.)

After sending Rob on his way (walking bow-legged due to all the abuse his formerly-virginal arse had undergone in less than 24 hours), Miles had his shower and breakfast. Then he happily set off to an address in Soho which Rob would have recognized immediately.

"Hey, Dylan? It's me, Miles," he spoke into the intercom after ringing the buzzer.

It took Dylan a little while to get to the door. His hair was mussed from sleep and he'd stopped only to fling a t-shirt on over his trunks. Despite his night of passion with Rob, Miles was again overcome with desire, especially with Dylan's cute bum in those tight trunks at eye-level as he followed him up the stairs.

"I'm sorry I woke you, I didn't realize you'd still be asleep," apologized Miles.

"Don't sweat it," Dylan assured him. "We were just lazing about in bed."

"We?" echoed Miles. Dylan didn't have to answer as they entered the flat and Miles saw Ollie for himself. The American hunk was sprawled out on top of the sheets, completely naked and nursing a prominent erection.

"Ollie, I told you Miles was coming over. Couldn't you have put some clothes on?" Dylan said reproachfully.

"This is the first time I'm seeing a couple of gay guys get upset at being greeted by a stiff cock," remarked Ollie, making no attempt to cover up.

"Besides, I'm sure Miles will be getting up close and personal with Ollie junior soon enough."

Dylan rolled his eyes and smacked Ollie's cock, making him yelp. "Sorry, Miles. We're partners, so I can't get rid of him even if I wanted to."

Miles felt the wind go out of his sails. Dylan hadn't mentioned a partner before, but it was obvious now that he had a longstanding connection with this American guy. And here Miles had led himself to believe that losing his virginity to Dylan meant they had a special connection. He could have kicked himself. Obviously he could never compete with a live-in boyfriend, especially one with Ollie's lean body.

"Yo, Miles! So are you gonna get up here and give it to me or what?" asked Ollie impatiently.

Dylan laughed. "Didn't you get enough last night from Rob and from me? Man, you're such a slut!"

Ollie stuck his tongue out at him. "Well, you've only got yourself to thank for rewiring my brain like that."

Miles looked from Ollie to Dylan. "What do you mean?"

Dylan shook his head. "It's a long story. In a nutshell, Ollie's straight, but I kinda taught him the joys of gay sex and now he can't get enough of it."

"Pretty much sums it up," agreed Ollie. "So no need to be jealous, kiddo. If you wanna get all lovey-dovey with Dyl, I'm not standing in your way." He laughed at the identical expressions of shock on Dylan and Miles's faces.

"Jeez, Dyl, for a guy with your powers you're pretty obtuse. Didn't you see his face when you called me your partner? Miles, we're business partners, not life partners. Yeah, we're fuck buddies too, but that's where the buck stops;

we're not in any kind of loving relationship. I just like getting fucked by him."

Miles was blushing under Dylan's astonished gaze. "Is Ollie right, Miles? Do you have feelings for me?"

"Y-yeah," Miles stammered. "I wasn't sure if it was just me though." He looked up at Dylan shyly. "Is it?"

Dylan was speechless. He was so used to dealing with straight men whose minds were full of hate (Ollie being the obvious exception), that this was a completely new situation for him. In pursuing his vendetta against homophobes, he'd never had the time for a normal love life. Looking at the adorable Miles, he wondered if he was finally being given a chance at love.

"Come here," he said. Miles approached him anxiously. Dylan took his face in his hands and planted a gentle kiss on him. "Does that answer your question?"

Miles grinned and went in for another snog.

"Okay, now that you two lovebirds have sorted it out, can we get back to business?" whined Ollie from the sidelines.

Miles and Dylan looked at each other. "Well, I guess it's the least we can do for you ..." They both dove for Ollie's cock at the same time.

Meanwhile, Rob was having a decidedly less pleasant time. The playing fields were to the north of the city, and the journey there by train had garnered him looks of both appreciation and disgust from strangers. Things were no better when he got to the playing field; the assembled ruggers directed sneers and derisive comments at him. He had no way of knowing whether it was due to his costume, or Craig spreading tales of his ‘perversion', or both. Even the coach, Anthony, shot him a look of disdain. Rob just looked down at the floor, avoiding everyone's gaze. He wanted so badly to just leave but rugby was his life. Maybe they'd see him differently when they saw what he could do on the pitch. After all, Rob had been his school's rugby captain, and he knew he was a better player than Craig and Tom – both of whom were sniggering as far away from him as possible, refusing to be associated with the college laughing stock.

Unfortunately for Rob, his would-be teammates had no intention of letting him demonstrate his abilities on the pitch. They'd made an agreement before his late arrival: if Rob was so keen to expose his tiny cock, then they would

‘help' him ensure he got the widest audience possible.

The stands were filled with a larger crowd than usual; the video of Rob's striptease had gone viral and, once his college mates heard what was in store for Rob, they turned up in droves to watch the show.

Practically every other tackle ended with Rob getting his shorts pulled down.

The more audacious boys made certain to pull off his jockstrap simultaneously, but even if they didn't, it left Rob's bare arse on display. Every debagging was accompanied by a rousing cheer from the spectators. They had their cameras ready for each one, with the zooming function maximised. There were going to be a lot of video responses to the ‘Full Monty' clip before the morning was over!

Poor Rob looked to the coach for assistance after the sixth debagging left him naked from the waist down, but Anthony had either not seen it or was pretending he hadn't. He turned his pleading look to Craig and Tom, who promptly responded by leading his next debagging. This one was so brutal that his shorts were torn clean off him. Rob struggled to cover his naked arse with the remnants but it was a losing battle.

"Please, can I borrow a pair of shorts?" he begged.

"Don't tell me you're getting shy now!" taunted Danny.

"Don't pretend this isn't what you want," sneered Ricky.

"Yeah Robbie, don't you want to lose the rest of those clothes?" asked Nico, laughing.

"We can help you out with that if you want," suggested Matt and made a menacing move towards him.

Rob looked from one unfriendly face to the next, and realized it was a lost cause. He fled from the field, bare buns jiggling, to raucous amusement from both players and spectators. He didn't have a change of clothes on him but he was beyond caring what the lads thought of him, so he just pulled on a pair of shorts someone had left in the showers before leaving for home. In less than 24 hours, his whole life had turned to shit.

Of course, it may have been of some comfort if he'd known he wasn't going to be alone in his plight for much longer.

Down in Soho, Miles, Dylan and Ollie were enjoying a leisurely morning fuck that saw Ollie take both Miles and Dylan's cocks in his hole at the same time.

Double-penetration was fresh in Miles's mind after having rewatched that particular porno with Rob, and Ollie had volunteered to be the bottom. It was a very tight squeeze but they managed it finally: Ollie straddled Dylan and Miles came from behind to add his cock to the already-occupied hole.

"Shit, that hurts like hell ..." groaned Ollie, his arse feeling impossibly full. "But it's a good hurt," he added hastily when he saw the concerned look on Dylan's face. "Look," he pointed to his unrelenting hard-on.

Miles licked up the trail of sweat on Ollie's back. "I wanted to do this with Rob ... but this is even hotter."

"You bet it is ... jeez, I can't believe I missed out on all this man-sex for all those years!" Ollie sighed as he continued to ride both cocks.

"I don't think you'll ever be short of that again!" replied Dylan. "Now, speaking of Rob, what are we going to do with him next?"

"Oh, I know!" exclaimed Miles. "We can make him volunteer as the model for life drawing class ... make him pose for a naked charity calendar ... make him take a job as a gay club stripper ... make him do gay porn where he's gang- banged by an entire sports team ..." Miles's ideas for humiliating Rob were endless.

"Woah, wait up!" laughed Dylan. "You've obviously been thinking a lot about this. Rob does make a great model; you've got to see the shots Ollie took of him last night. What did the guys downstairs think of those anyway, Ollie?"

"They loved it. They said the clientele would appreciate a ‘nice bit of rough', whatever that means. In fact they were wondering if we could get some homoerotic shots of Rob with another guy of the same build."

"Hmm," mused Dylan. "There are always his two best mates – they're both ruggers too, and no less homophobic than Robbie boy."

"You mean Craig and Tom?" asked Miles. "Wow, it'd be the best gay porn ever if we got the three of them together."

Dylan smiled at Miles's enthusiasm. "Maybe I should pay Craig a visit ..."

Part 5

The trio of hunks walking down the street from the tube station turned heads.

There was seemingly one for every taste: tall, buff, blond Tom, with his slightly vacuous expression suggesting an easy lay; short, tightly-muscled Craig with his cheeky grin and a touch of fur peeking out from his collar; and pretty-boy Matt, his handsome face framed by golden curls and complemented by a slim but solid build.

They were laughing uproariously as they recalled the events on the playing field earlier that morning.

"Shit, the look on Rob's face when he got debagged over and over again - priceless!" Craig shook his head.

"I can't believe he is such a fucking loser ... he really had us snowed in school," said Tom.

"Yeah, I can't believe you guys actually went to school with that wanker,"

remarked Matt.

"And now I've to share a room with him." Craig shuddered.

"Cheer up, mate," said Tom sympathetically. "Just do what we discussed: go get your stuff and kip in our room till the warden sorts out a new one for you. I mean, she can't very well force you to share with a fucking pervert."

"And if she needs evidence, just point her to U-tube," laughed Matt. "I hear Rob's full monty routine got 100,000 views already!"

"Yeah, and he's been tagged in it too," added Tom. "Now everyone back in Chester's having a good laugh at him."

Craig shook his head in disgust. "I think we need to unfriend him before this shit starts sticking to us too."

"The Full Monty Trio from Chester," Matt howled with laughter.

Tom and Craig weren't amused. "Neither of us is going to be stripping for an audience!" snarled Craig.

Famous last words, as they say.

Rob was pacing his room in a state of agitation, wearing only his jockstrap

(as per Miles's command). He had never felt so small in his entire life.

Everyone in college was treating him like a joke. His own best mates had turned on him and not just revelled in his humiliation, but also actively participated in it. Now he was being ganged up on by the ruggers. And he was only at the very beginning of a 3-year degree course! The next few years were going to be hell!

The door flew open suddenly and Rob instinctively covered his groin with his hands.

It was Craig. He gave Rob a once-over, and his face twisted into a sneer. "You just can't quit, can you? Why are you covering your cock, it's not like there's anything there."

Rob felt his face heat up with shame. "Craig ... mate ..."

"Don't call me mate! I'm not! Fuck, I don't even know who the hell you are anymore. Maybe I never did. I used to think you were brilliant but that was my big mistake! Did you even sleep with all those girls you said you did? You probably had to pay them to pretend you gave them a good time with that tiny cock of yours. Fuck! I can't believe I fell for that. Why am I even wasting my time talking to you? I just came to get the rest of my stuff and then I'm going down to tell the warden I ain't rooming with a fucking freak-show no more."

"Now that's not a very nice thing to say to your best mate, is it?"

Craig turned around to find Dylan standing in the open doorway.

"Who the fuck are you?" he spat.

Dylan smiled. "It's only been a day, and you've already forgotten me?"

Recognition hit Craig like a thunderbolt, but by then it was too late. Dylan had already entered Craig's mind.

"Yes, Craig, I'm the hypnotist from yesterday's show. I'm afraid my powers are rather greater than mere hypnosis, but you already know that."

Craig did, for he was unable to move so much as a finger. He could only stare at Dylan in increasing terror, now aware of why Rob's behaviour had changed so dramatically in 24 hours.

"Miles, come in and shut the door behind you." The blond teen, who had been waiting out in the corridor, was quick to oblige. He eyed Craig hungrily; he was eager to know what he looked like naked. The rugby kit Craig was wearing promised a tight little body under there.

"Now, Craig," said Dylan jovially, "why don't you show us if you have your mate's stripper moves?"

Of course Craig had no choice. While attempting some rather pathetic dancing he peeled off his jersey – although once he was topless, neither Dylan nor Miles were paying any attention to his dance moves. Craig might have been short, but he'd packed a lot of muscle onto his compact frame. The light sprinkling of hair on his chest was a nice surprise given his boyish face.

As Craig shimmied out of his shorts, Dylan glanced over to Rob, who has looking down at the floor. "Watch Craig," he barked. "The two of you are going to become very familiar with each other's bodies."

The shamefaced rugger was compelled to look at his stripping mate. Craig was now down to his underwear of choice: black trunks. Needless to say, he wouldn't get to wear them for much longer. The tight trunks clearly outlined his bulge, which was decidedly fuller than Rob's. Craig reluctantly grasped the waistband of his trunks, about to tug them down, when Dylan stopped him.

"No, I think we should let Rob finish the job ... with his mouth."

The two rugby lads had identical looks of shame coupled with dismay as Rob was forced to kneel in front of Craig. With Miles interjecting further suggestions, Craig had to stand with his hands behind his head, while Rob pressed his face against his taut belly and licked his abs until they were slick with spit. He also had to repeatedly twist Craig's nipples, making the standing lad wince, although they were soon firmly erect and there was a definite stirring in his pants, too.

But all that was only foreplay, and both Miles and Dylan were soon more than ready for Craig's nudity to be complete. Rob grabbed the waistband of Craig's trunks in his teeth and pulled them down. He was rewarded (though he certainly didn't feel that way) by Craig's half-hard cock springing out and smacking him in the face.

"Show Craig what I taught you about cock-sucking," ordered Miles. Craig could only stand there in horrified amazement as Rob unwillingly licked his cock from shaft to crown (even sticking the tip of his tongue into the piss-slit)

before taking the entire six inches into his mouth.

"Fuck his face, Craig," commanded Dylan. "Face-fuck your best mate like you would a woman. But don't you dare cum unless I give you permission."

Craig began to vigorously thrust, causing Rob to almost choke on his mouthful of cock.

"And don't just sit there and take it, Rob," added Dylan. "Why don't you stick a finger or two up Craig's arse?"

Craig's body went rigid as Rob reached around to the back and prised apart his arse-cheeks to gain access to his virginal hole.

"Shit, I think he's even tighter than Robbie here," commented Dylan. Craig's arse, like the rest of him, was compact and tightly-muscled. "Better get him some of that lube we brought." This time around, Dylan had remembered to bring edible (banana-flavoured!) lube. He was looking forward to seeing big, macho Rob eat cum out of another bloke's arse.

Even with the lube, Craig's incredibly tight arse resisted the penetration that was all but inevitable. Rob could barely insert one finger; by the time he squeezed a second in, Craig was groaning as if there was a battering ram at his backdoor. He began to perspire profusely, and Dylan had Rob take a break from cock-sucking to lick Craig's sweaty body. (It also gave Craig the necessary breather to avoid cumming from the blowjob Rob was giving him.)

While Rob gave Craig a very thorough tongue bath (even sucking the sweat out of his pit hair), Dylan and Miles took over fingering Craig's arse, each shoving a finger into his hole simultaneously. Craig arched his back in agony when they added another finger each to his already-packed hole, stretching it to the limit. In and out they thrust their fingers, luxuriating in the warm, moist tightness of Craig's arsehole.

"I think he's ready to be broken in for real," said Dylan finally, much to Craig's terror. Hadn't they already ‘broken in' his arse with by shoving four fingers up there?

"You want to take this one," asked Miles, "since you let me pop Rob's cherry yesterday?"

"No, I've a better idea. I bet Robbie boy isn't too appreciative of how his so-called mate betrayed him. It's only fair that we let him get back at Craig by taking his cherry. Besides, given how tight Craig is, we should let him start small..." Dylan and Miles both burst into laughter, but the other two lads in the room didn't find it remotely amusing.

"Oh, oh! I've an idea too!" shouted Miles excitedly. "Let's first make them 69, with a difference: instead of having them suck off each other, they can rim each other."

"I like the way you think," replied Dylan with a smile. "Yes, Rob can teach Craig about his favourite rimming technique. Why don't you recount it to him, Robbie?"

Rob repeated the instructions through gritted teeth. "First lick up and down the arse crack, then kiss the hole, and suck on it, before fucking it with your tongue as deep as it can go."

The look on Craig's face was so hilarious that Dylan and Miles nearly collapsed with laughter. They had the two ruggers lie on the floor in the 69 position and bury their faces (and tongues) deep in each other's arses. For the next half-hour all that was all they would see, smell or taste.

"Maybe this will help revive your friendship," remarked Miles. "After all, you can't get any closer to a mate than sticking your tongue up his shitter!"

"How are you liking it, Craig?" asked Dylan (redundantly, since he could after all read Craig's repulsed mind).

Craig's response was muffled by Rob's arse but it sounded suspiciously like

"sick".

"Well, I hope for your sakes that you like it because rimming is definitely going to feature a lot in your lives from now on! Now, Rob, it's time for you to deflower your mate, before we decide what we to do about your other friends."

Rob and Craig looked at Dylan in a mix of surprise and fear.

"You didn't think I'd let you two go through this alone, did you?" Dylan tutted. "I saw in your minds how you all ganged up on Rob this morning. I do love the irony of Rob being tormented by his own kind, but that doesn't negate the fact that your entire team is made up of bullies and homophobes. I've seen some rather loathsome people in my line of work, but never so many in a group!

I'm going to enjoy taking all of you down. Miles, remember how you suggested Rob be gang-banged by an entire sports team? I think we can do better ... what do you say to 13 ruggers having a gay orgy?"

The twitch in the front of Miles's trousers was sufficient reply.

"First things first, though. Rob, lose the jockstrap. And Craig, mount him and ride his cock. I expect to see those rugger thighs at work!"

Craig's body shook with suppressed sobs as he straddled Rob's prostrate body and lowered his own arse onto his mate's cock ... his first, but certainly not his last. Over the next hour, Craig was fucked in several different positions by Rob, Dylan and Miles. Initially Rob was just glad that he wasn't the focus of attention, but he soon got into it and was pounding away at Craig's arse with vengeful brutality; he hadn't forgotten how quickly his former best mate had turned on him.

For his part, Craig was still in shock, barely able to process what was happening to him. How had he gone from an aggressively heterosexual lad-about- town to a helpless fuck-toy whose virgin arse was being violated by the very same guy he'd called a freak just a day before? He could still taste that freak's arse juices on his tongue; he wasn't sure even washing his mouth out with soap would help.

"It might." Dylan broke into Craig's thoughts effortlessly. "But only until the next time you rim arse, which as I said earlier is going to be a very frequent occurrence for you! Miles, do you want him to eat you out?"

Miles didn't need to be told twice. He threw off his clothes without any of his previous inhibitions and shoved his arse in Craig's face. Poor Craig began lapping at the hole, practising the special technique that Rob had recited earlier. As for Rob, Dylan kicked apart his legs and penetrated him in one swift thrust. The violence of the lunge had the side effect of pushing Rob even deeper into Craig's arse. The subsequent pounding of his prostate made him shoot his load inside his mate, but his shame wasn't as severe as Craig's when he later had his first anal sex-induced ejaculation while being fucked by Miles. Rob was impaled on Craig's cock while Craig was fucked by Miles and Dylan squatted over Craig's face getting rimmed. Craig's orgasm had been building up over the course of the afternoon and it was massive, spattering him with semen from chin to pubes.

Craig didn't envy Rob having to clean up the copious load with his tongue, but he soon discovered Rob had been ordered not to swallow ... instead he was to

‘snowball' the sperm with Craig, passing it from mouth to mouth as they snogged. "Kiss and make up," Miles called it.

At least that was Craig's own cum. Repeating the procedure with the combined loads of Rob, Dylan and Miles which Rob had to suck out from Craig's arse was pure hell. Then they went for a third round of snowballing with Craig sucking out the loads dumped in Rob's arse.

Feeling filthy and used, the two ruggers hoped their ordeal was over for the day. No such luck.

Dylan extricated Craig's phone from his shorts and handed it to him. "Call Tom," he said simply. "Tell him you need help moving your stuff out of this room. If he asks, tell him you're alone."

Craig made the call. Five minutes later there was a knock on the door.

"Mate? Are you in there?"

"Yeah, come in," said Craig.

Tom opened the door and stepped in, only to stop in shock. Craig was wearing only the lime-green jockstrap which Tom recognized as the same one Rob had worn that morning.

"What the fuck? Why are you fucking bare-arsed?"

The door slammed shut behind him and the built blond stud whirled around to see Dylan and Miles.

"Oh shit," was Tom's last conscious thought.

"Yeah, you are a little shit, aren't you?" said Dylan in disgust. He saw in Tom's mind how he and his brother had viciously bullied their stepbrother whom they suspected of being gay. He noted with interest that Tom's stepbrother lived in north London. Perhaps he might like a stab at revenge on his former tormentors.

"You two!" Dylan snapped at Craig and Rob, who had crawled out from under the bed. "Continue to fuck each other's brains out till morning. You can leave this room for meals and a shower, but otherwise you stay here and have sex –

snogging, sucking, fucking, rimming, the works. Take it in turns. Rob, you're to teach Craig how to give a blowjob. When you're ready for bed, cuddle up together and one of you gets to leave your cock in the other's arse all night.

I'll leave you to decide who the lucky bloke is."

He turned to Tom, who was watching in mounting horror as he began to realize the extent of the trap into which he'd fallen. His jaw dropped as his mates immediately took to Dylan's commands and Rob threw Craig down onto a bed to roughly enter him.

"Yes, Tom, that's what's in store for you. But first we need to get you a roommate who's just as acquiescing. So lead the way and we'll induct pretty- boy Matt to the club."

Tom led Miles and Dylan downstairs to the room he shared with Matt. Matt was getting ready for a night out and was caught in the midst of buttoning up a black shirt over a pair of tight, red trunks designed to accentuate his package.

"Oh don't mind us, Matt," said Dylan casually as the startled lad reached for his jeans to put them on. "In fact don't bother dressing at all; you won't be in your clothes for much longer anyway."

Matt stared in shock. "Tom, what the fuck's going on?" His roommate just looked at him powerlessly.

"You really are too pretty for the rugby field," commented Miles dreamily. He wanted to reach out and play with those blond curls that gave Matt such a misleadingly angelic appearance.

Matt's face twisted into a distinctly un-angelic visage. "Are you two queer? I don't know why Tom let you in but you need to fuck off or I'll ..." He started to take a threatening step forwards but to his surprise found that he couldn't move.

"Now, Matt, what do you have against queers? You quite enjoyed the blowjobs you got from them in college."

Matt turned purple. Tom stared at his roommate in astonishment and disgust.

"Of course," continued Dylan as he pried further into Matt's mind, "that didn't stop you from slagging them off or believing them to be less than men.

That makes you not only a homophobe and a bully, but also a hypocrite. Bad things really do come in threes, don't they?"

"How are you doing this?" Matt had abandoned his bravado; the fear was apparent in his voice.

"Mind control," responded Dylan simply. "Now I told you that you wouldn't need those clothes for much longer so lose them. You too, Tom. Let's see if you two are as fit as your mates, Rob and Craig."

The two powerless boys shed their clothes. Matt, being half-dressed to begin with, was the first to bare all. For a rugger, he was a bit lean, but with wonderful muscle definition. He shaved his chest, unlike his fellow blond, Tom, who was naturally hairless. Tom resembled Rob in his build – big and beefy as expected of rugby players. Both Tom and Matt were very hunky in their own ways, and they knew it, but tonight they lacked their customary cockiness

– with good reason. They tried to shield their dicks from view but Dylan wasn't having any of that.

"Hands behind your head!" he snapped. Miles drank up the sight of these two gorgeous lads in all their glory. They both had cocks that were 5 inches flaccid.

"Very nice," commented Dylan; he could appreciate the attractive male form even knowing the horrid personalities behind them. "It's too bad they're attached to a pair of twats. Well, I'm afraid neither of you is going out tonight to hook up with girls as you'd planned. But don't worry – you will be getting very intimate with someone tonight. each other!"

Part 6

As morning broke over the city, four straight lads awoke to a sensation that shook their virile heterosexuality to its core: having cocks up their arses.

Tom was the first to wake, feeling sticky and filthy. It was the smell that hit him first: stale sweat and dried cum. Next was the realization that he had his naked body pressed up against Matt's equally bare back, with his morning erection buried deep in Matt's arse. Third came the discovery that his own arse was stuffed with an even larger cock, albeit an artificial one. Finally, the memories of the previous night, and how he had come to be in this dire situation, came flooding back, and he groaned pathetically.

Dylan had not been kidding when he'd said Tom and Matt would become "very intimate" with each other. He'd forced them to spend an hour getting to know every nook and cranny of each other's body with their tongues and their hands.

It didn't matter to him how repulsed Tom and Matt were by what they were compelled to do; in fact it was an added bonus that they hated it so much. Tom and Matt quickly discovered they had the same aversion to rimming as their mate Rob but, just like him, they had no choice but to indulge in it to Dylan's satisfaction. Having to sloppily kiss a mate's arse, suck out his anal juices and tongue-fuck his hole was very demeaning work for the pair of straight boys.

Matt had actually had his own arse rimmed a couple of times in the course of getting blowjobs from gay lads. He'd reacted negatively on both occasions, telling them not to try any queer stuff on his arse or he'd beat them to a pulp, although he'd secretly rather enjoyed having his arse licked. He certainly didn't enjoy being on the giving end though!

Rimming was only the tip of the iceberg. Tom and Matt had to snog each other long and hard; lick Dylan and Miles from head to toe; learn how to suck cock

(practising on each other since Dylan and Miles weren't keen on the pitfalls of receiving amateur blowjobs); and of course, lose their anal virginities.

Dylan and Miles started them off small, with a single well-lubed finger jabbed deep into their guts. Tom and Matt took it stoically. Two fingers was more of a challenge, especially when they were being pistoned in and out of their virginal arses at speed, but it was the triple-fingerfuck that had both ruggers sweating buckets and crying out in pain. The physical discomfort, however, seemed inconsequential in parallel with the shameful erections Tom and Matt sported thanks to Miles and Dylan's discreet massage of their prostate glands.

Then Miles had remembered that he'd ordered a same-day delivery of sex toys in Rob's name. Tom and Matt were ordered to take over fingering each other's arses while Miles and Dylan went up to Rob and Craig's room.

There, they found a moaning Rob getting his arse plundered by Craig. His cock was hard from the vigorous pounding on his prostate and, despite its small size, made a noticeable tent in the towel which was all he was allowed to wear to collect his parcel from the reception desk. The snickering students he passed along the way made him blush, but the leering receptionist sent shivers down his spine. His feeling of foreboding only worsened when he saw the sex shop had clearly labelled their ‘Sender's Details' on the parcel.

Glancing casually into Rob's mind when he returned, Dylan immediately cottoned on to his fear of the receptionist and made a mental note to let the older man have his way with the rugby stud sooner rather than later.

For now, the sex toys would do nicely in fucking with the two homophobes.

Whoever wasn't getting fucked was to have a rubber cock up his arse instead.

Poor Craig had been thinking that he'd gotten off lightly with Rob's cock being so small but the foot-long dildo ensured that his relief was very short- lived.

There was a glint of vindictive glee in Rob's eyes as he forced Craig to take the entire 12 inches up his incredibly tight arse. Miles and Dylan stayed for the show put on by Craig's taut body as he endured the merciless assault on his own hole while simultaneously fucking Rob. His entire body was tense, every muscle shining in the sweat pouring off him, wracked by agonised yelps.

"It's your turn next," snarled Craig when he was fully impaled on the unrelenting dildo. Rob, so foolishly focused on vengeance, hadn't thought that far ahead, and his face turned pale as he realized Craig would have no pity when it was his own turn to be fucked by that monstrous dildo!

Dylan and Miles left the room smiling, delighted in the knowledge that Rob and Craig, by virtue of their own personalities, would ensure they both had a very unpleasant night.

Matt and Tom were as they'd left them, furiously finger-fucking each other –

they were now up to 4 fingers in each hole, grunting at every thrust that unnaturally stretched their sphincters. But it wasn't quite the same as losing your anal virginity to another bloke, which Dylan and Miles were about to remedy.

"Sit down on our cocks and fuck yourselves," ordered Dylan. In his opinion, making a homophobe fuck himself on another man's cock was one of the best ways to break him. And since Matt and Tom had those very muscular thighs common among ruggers, it also made for one hell of a visual experience.

Tom impaled himself on Dylan and Matt straddled Miles. Following instructions, they quickly built up a rhythm, manoeuvring their fit bodies to maximise the speed and depth of penetration. Their erections didn't go down at all – if anything, they seemed to grow along with their feelings of shame. Dylan and Miles amplified those emotions by snogging and feeling up their helpless victims: tweaking their nipples, pinching the fatless skin over their abs, squeezing their balls, coarsely rubbing a finger over their cockheads and making them lick off the precum.

"Do you think you're going to cum?" Dylan asked Tom. The buff blond stud vigorously shook his head as he continued to fuck himself on Dylan's cock, unable to bear the thought of ejaculating under these circumstances.

Dylan just laughed and grasped Tom's erection, which was practically vibrating with orgasmic intent. "I rather think you are. The question is whether you or Matt will cum first. Should we let that be the indicator of who gets to fuck the other one?"

Tom thought quickly. Surely he had more self-control than Matt. After all, he wasn't the one who'd resorted to getting blowjobs from faggots in the past! He didn't want to sleep with a cock up his arse. He quickly replied, "Yes!"

"Tom!" Matt cried out in protest. He suspected he was going to lose; he knew he was dangerously close to an orgasm. He had always been a big producer of precum but tonight was exceptional even for him – his cock and pubes were practically soaked in his own pre-ejaculate.

Dylan chuckled at the dissent between these sporty lads. "Okay, let's make it a fair fight: a wrestling match. The winner gets to fuck the loser."

Matt hastily agreed, despite recognising Tom's obvious weight advantage over him.

Tom wasn't as sure; after all he already had this in the bag ... or did he?

Dylan's finger was rubbing the sensitive spot under his cock and the pressure was building up in his balls. "Oh shit," he gasped. "Yes, please! The wrestling!"

His tone gave the game away and Matt howled, "What? No, I want to change my answer!"

Dylan grinned. "Too late." He grasped Tom's cock and directed it at his target, just in the nick of time. Tom blasted his cum on his own face.

Matt moaned in dismay and stopped trying to hold back on his orgasm. He spewed his load all over Miles, who didn't mind in the least. Matt, on the other hand, did mind when he was ordered to eat up all his cum and lick the mess off Tom's face as well.

"Oh, and don't forget the cum I dumped in Tom's arse. Eat that out too," added Dylan. "Don't look like that, Matty. Tom's turn will come in a bit." It couldn't come soon enough for Matt. After all, misery loves company.

As Tom and Matt found themselves rimming each other yet again (this time with the additional "prize" of eating cum out of their used holes), Miles and Dylan broke out a couple of bottles of baby oil and greased up the two studs in preparation for their wrestling. The oil was to serve a dual purpose: making it harder for the wrestlers to get a grip and accentuating their muscles for their spectators' viewing pleasure.

It was every gay boy's fantasy come to life. There wasn't a whole lot of space on the floor between the two beds and the lads often kept banging each other into the bed-stands, but Dylan figured it shouldn't faze a pair of ruggers given what they were used to on the field. Miles grabbed his camera to record the wrestling, although the footage turned out rather shaky since he had one hand frantically fisting his cock.

Tom and Matt were going all out to win, not holding back on filthy tricks, for their heterosexual pride was at stake. Matt tugged violently on Tom's balls, making the beefy rugger squeal in a girlishly high pitch. Then, in an attempt to flip Matt over, Tom grabbed him by the arse with his fingers ‘accidentally'

buried in Matt's sore, stretched hole. The wrestling swiftly lost all semblance of sportsmanship and degenerated into a battle of sexual one- upmanship.

"Lick my arse, you fucking queer!" shouted Tom as he smashed his arse into Matt's face. Matt desperately clawed at Tom until he caught his balls and Tom's momentary loss of focus due to the pain was enough for Matt to extricate himself. But his relief was short-lived because, no matter how hard and dirtily he fought, Tom's brute strength was always going to triumph in the end.

Tom eventually had Matt pinned face-down, with his hard cock nestled in Matt's sweaty arse crack. He looked to Dylan and Miles for confirmation of his victory.

Once Dylan nodded, Tom hissed in Matt's ear, "I win!" and forcefully shoved his cock up Matt's arse. Matt buried his face into the carpet, shaking with the humiliation of a second bumming in one night. But he would ultimately have the last laugh.

Miles had brought with him one of Rob's new toys. Ten inches long and thick as a man's wrist, the wicked-looking dildo was studded with little bumps to enhance the sensations of penetration. "We didn't think either of you should miss out," he said with a grin.

Tom looked at the dildo in horror. "But, but," he stuttered, "I won!"

"And your reward is that you get to fuck your mate instead of him fucking you," Dylan pointed out. "I never said we'd leave your arse empty ..."

"Nooooo!" bawled Tom. He was acutely aware that Matt was now shaking not with sobs but laughter instead. Tom, infuriated, thrust into Matt's arse particularly hard and brought his amusement to a swift end. His own end, meanwhile, was being prepared by Miles with a liberal coating of lube. Despite his care, it was going to hurt. A lot.

And that was how Tom came to find himself the next morning, with a huge dildo up his arse and his cock buried in Matt's hole. His wrestling victory had been a hollow one, and he had the feeling that the new day was only going to bring new humiliations.

Sure enough, the first order of the day was to 69 with his roommate. After they had swallowed each other's loads, they were dispatched to bring Rob and Craig down to their room.

Five minutes later, all four of them stood naked in front of Dylan and Miles.

"Oh wow," breathed Miles as he appraised the line-up of very fit teenagers.

Dylan knew how he felt.

"Well, lads, you've had your fun. Your days of bullying and bigotry are over.

From now on, you'll be serving up entertainment to the very people you victimised. I've got big plans for each one of you.

"Rob, that cute little cock of yours is going to become very familiar throughout the college and beyond. Craig, you're quite the womaniser, aren't you? Too bad, you won't be employing your cheeky charm to lure young women into your bed anymore ... no, it'll be men that you seduce from now on! Tom, you and your brother made your stepbrother's life a living hell until he couldn't bear to live in the same house any longer. You'll both have the chance to make amends with him soon. And last but certainly not least, Matt.

You're going to track down all those gay lads who blew you and offer them –

no, BEG them to bugger you."

The ruggers stared at Dylan in utter horror. But there was more.

"There's some good news too. You won't be alone in your plight. Your mates from the rugby team will be joining you. Imagine all the fun you're going to have together!"

Rob, Craig, Tom and Matt knew what was in store for them was the complete opposite of ‘fun'.

"Now why don't you guys get a head start on those orgies you're going to have by fucking each other? What do you think, Miles?"

Miles was already working out all the possible permutations of the four ruggers. "Tom can fuck Rob. Craig can fuck him and Matt can fuck Craig. And Matt can have a dildo up his arse."

The ruggers were already reluctantly moving into the prescribed positions. One by one they mounted their targets and fucked them hard and fast. Miles moved in behind Matt with the dildo and was working it into his hole when he felt something poking at his own arse.

"I just couldn't resist the sight of your peachy bum," whispered Dylan in Miles's ear. Miles turned his head to kiss Dylan and pushed himself back onto his cock.

"We need to move to the front ... I want Rob to suck my cock," panted Miles as Dylan thrust into him. Dylan obliged without extracting himself from Miles's hole. Miles sighed in ecstasy as he received the twin pleasures of an arse- fucking and a blowjob simultaneously. He came in Rob's mouth and made him swallow. Then Rob had to bury his face between Miles's thighs and eat out Dylan's load from his arse.

Seeing Rob's sweaty, cum- and spit-streaked face, Miles was overcome by lust.

"I really, really want to see him double-fucked until he's fucking split in two," he told Dylan, much to Rob's terror.

Dylan was charmed by his lover's impatience. "Soon, babe. I promise. Let's get these wankers cleaned up, grab some brunch, and head over to my flat so that Ollie can join in the fun."

Ollie was already having fun. A morning photo-shoot with Dylan's stag party victims from earlier in the week had rapidly descended into an orgy. With same-sex marriage advancing in the British Parliament, Ollie had been shooting them as a gay couple for a wedding catalogue (which was made all the more ironic by the fact that the groom should have been on his honeymoon with his bride).

Dylan and Miles found Ollie in the bedroom, plowing the best man while the groom gave Ollie's arse a solid pounding.

"I thought this was supposed to be a wedding shoot," remarked Dylan with a raised eyebrow.

Ollie grinned as he continued to fuck. "It was. We'd finished the shots in the wedding suits and they were changing out of them when I couldn't help but notice this guy's bubble butt." He slapped the arse of the man he was fucking.

Dylan shook his head in amusement. "Well, finish up and send them on their way. We have some even better stuff."

"Even better?" queried Ollie. Dylan sent out a mental command and the four ruggers walked into the room, naked and hard.

Ollie's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "Holy crap! What do you guys feed your rugby players? They're fucking ripped!"

"And they're great fucks, too!" chirped in Miles.

"Yeah, I bet!" Ollie was already imagining being in the middle of a Tom/Craig sandwich. The image was too much for him and blew his wad in the best man's arse. "Clean him up with your tongue," he told the groom, who grudgingly began to rim his best man.

Forgetting about them, Ollie jumped out of the bed and approached the ruggers, assessing them from his artistic perspective.

"Rob and this one," he said, pointing to Tom. "They'd be perfect for the underwear ad. Two big, buff guys in their skivvies, posed intimately – that's just what the guys downstairs are looking for."

"And what about the other two? Can we fit them in somewhere?" asked Dylan.

"Sure, the pretty boy over there and the short one with the tight body are a textbook couple." (Craig and Matt were horrified by this description.)

"They've got similar builds, but distinct looks – one blond, one with black hair; one smooth, one hairy. That's what I'm going for with Rob and muscle- boy, too. These two would be great in a romantic ad, maybe for Christmas or Valentine's."

"Well then, let's get those photos done before tea, because we've got a quick spot of shopping to do," said Dylan.

"What for?" asked Miles curiously.

"The fancy-dress party at your hall tonight, babe. Did you forget?"

"Oh, you mean the Last Night Before School party. I wasn't planning to go. It really isn't my kind of thing. I don't see why anyone would want to get wasted the night before our first day of classes. It's more like something Rob and his mates would go for."

Dylan smiled good-naturedly at his boyfriend. "I think you'll want to go for this one. I have it on good authority that the entertainment will be top- notch."

"Oh? And how do you know ..." Miles's voice trailed off as realization dawned.

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" he said excitedly.

Dylan smirked. "You were right when you said it's the sort of party Rob and his mates would attend. In fact I saw in their minds that they were planning to, and I see no reason why they shouldn't. But somehow I don't think they'll be wearing those boring outfits they originally intended to ..."

Part 7

The photoshoot went incredibly well. Ollie was certain that his client would absolutely love the images. As Ollie had suggested, the four ruggers were split into two pairs: Rob and Tom modelled the athletic underwear while Craig and Matt were assigned to the bedroom wear. Rob obviously had a fairly good idea of what to expect since he'd already had one session with Ollie, but the other three were utterly horrified when they saw what they would be wearing:

jockstraps, g-strings and mesh underwear featured prominently.

"I can't wear this!" exclaimed Craig, holding up a pair of black mesh bikini briefs. "It'll reveal everything!"

"That's the idea, mate," grinned Dylan. "Now be a good boy and put it on."

Of course, the undergarments themselves were only half the concern. The sporty lads also had to worry about the highly homoerotic poses Ollie was arranging them in (with significant input from the ever-eager Miles).

"I think this would make a great shot," remarked Miles, critically eyeing the composition in front of him. Matt lay on his back, against artistically crumpled satin sheets. His arms were folded behind his head and his stomach was tensed to show off his perfect six-pack. Craig was crouched between Matt's legs, wearing only the mesh briefs. Matt himself wasn't wearing anything – the crimson silk slip was halfway down his thighs, thanks to Craig who was pulling them off with his teeth. The sexual intimacy of the pose was undeniable.

Ollie snapped a few shots from the side, displaying Matt's nude profile without revealing anything that might prevent publication. Several other shots would show the two lads in bed together, wearing progressively skimpier underwear; a number of shots disposed of the underwear altogether and relied on the sheets to keep the boys (barely) covered. Ollie wanted them to be sweaty for these shots and rather than spritzing them with water, he went for realism by having them work up a sweat through rough sex with each other. The camera kept flashing away as Matt pile-drove his cock into Craig's ultra-tight hole. Poor Craig moaned pathetically, sure that he was being split in two by the vicious fucking. It didn't help that his arse was getting a lot of attention from all of the lads; its exquisite tightness was simply too good to pass up! When it wasn't occupied by Matt's cock, Dylan and Miles were filling it with their fingers.

Meanwhile, Tom and Rob's poses were inspired by the previous night's wrestling. Miles proposed that they oil the two lads up and have them wrestle each other in jockstraps. The resulting images of their buff bodies gleaming under the sheen of oil and sweat showcased their athleticism and played up the homoeroticism of two near-naked sportsmen grappling with each other. Dylan thought the snapshot of Tom ‘playfully' biting Rob's peachy arse should headline the advertising campaign.

He added, "Only because these pictures of Tom and Rob fucking can't be used."

The under-endowed stud whimpered as the big blond brute hammered away at his arse.

Miles hardly heard him. He was wanking at the sight of Tom's cock thrusting in and out of Rob's arse at such a furious pace. "Shit, I can't take any more of this. Can we double-fuck him already?" he begged.

Dylan ruffled his hair. "I can't really say no to that face," he replied.

"Tom, get your cock out of Rob and go fuck your roommate instead."

Tom pulled out of Rob's arse, but his relief would be short-lived. Dylan and Miles were divesting themselves of their remaining clothes and eyeing Rob's arse hungrily, much to his terror.

"Oh man, please don't. You'll fucking rip my arse apart!"

"Nah, they won't," called Ollie from where he was squatting over Craig's face, having his arse rimmed by the hapless rugger. It wasn't much of a rimming since Craig spent most of the time crying out from the fucking he was getting from Matt, which had only increased in force now that he in turn was getting buggered by Tom. "They already tried it out on me yesterday and I'm fine."

"Yeah, don't tell me a big, strong lad like you can't take a bit of pain,"

mocked Dylan. He lay down on the bed and ordered Rob to impale himself on his cock. The rugby stud grunted as he sat down quickly on his erection.

"Now Miles, you wanna stick it in him too?" asked Dylan.

Miles was crouched behind Rob, fascinated by the tight hole already stretched widely around Dylan's cock and wondering how it could possibly accommodate another. "I'm gonna try a couple of fingers in him first." With some difficulty, he slipped one finger into Rob's cock-stuffed hole. The rugger squealed in agony, but that didn't dissuade Miles. He forced a second finger in, which evoked another howl of pain from the impaled stud.

"Argh! Take it out, take it out!" begged Rob.

"Alright," said Miles agreeably. He pulled out his fingers – only to replace them with the head of his cock. Rob's eyes rolled back in his head and the sounds he made were barely human. The beleaguered stud was getting his arsehole well and truly stretched to the very limits of his endurance.

"Fuck me, that's tight. Ollie, this fucker's been less of a whore than you,"

joked Dylan.

Ollie showed him the middle finger without looking away from his camera's viewfinder.

"Miles, you gotta start thrusting. But first stuff Robbie boy's mouth with something because his mewling's really getting on my nerves."

In a daze, Miles found his discarded underwear and jammed into Rob's open mouth. He could scarcely believe that this sexy, straight rugger was getting double-dicked and he was one of those doing it!

He carefully manoeuvred his cock deeper into Rob's tightly-packed hole and nearly came instantly from the friction of his cock rubbing up against his boyfriend's inside the rugby hunk's arse. Christmas had definitely come early for Miles this year!

Dylan started to thrust upwards as well, building up a tempo with Miles that stretched Rob's hole wide and deep. Rob's cock had wilted from the excruciating pain, but now began to regain some of its firmness as his tormentors didn't let up on their pounding of his prostate. If it wasn't Miles's dick that was pressing his love button, Dylan's was. Every agonising thrust hurt like hell, but it was also bringing him closer than ever to an orgasm. An orgasm from taking two cocks simultaneously in his hole! Rob's psyche would never recover from this.

His mates were too involved in their own personal hell to spare him much thought (not to mention they blamed him for their plight), but even they were inclined to sympathy when they saw his sweaty, pain-wracked body impaled on two phalluses.

Of course, their compassion only lasted until the relentless pressure on Rob's prostate led to the inevitable result and he shot his load on Dylan's chest and stomach. The homophobic lads were immediately disgusted that he could actually get off on being double-penetrated. Rob, sharing the same mind-set, was thoroughly ashamed of himself. Reading their collective thoughts, Dylan grinned to himself; what was more perfect than letting these homophobes destroy their own sanity through their bigotry?

Rob's gluteal muscles had contracted during climax and the enhanced tightness of his arse brought Dylan and Miles to orgasm as well.

"Lick this mess up," Dylan ordered Rob, who obliged straightaway, lapping up his own cum from Dylan's torso. "Tom, get your arse back here and help your mate out with a good, deep rimming." Dylan's and Miles's spunk was dripping out of Rob's hole.

The look on Tom's face as he got up close and personal with Rob's arsehole told the others all they needed to know. The recently-virginal orifice had been obscenely stretched by the double penetration. Tom had absolutely no difficulty shoving his tongue all the way in there. Privately he wondered if Rob's hole would ever regain its original elasticity, but he didn't dwell on the thought since he had to battle his own revulsion at having to suck two faggots' cum out of another man's arse.

Dylan noticed the time. "Shit, we'd better get out shopping if we want to get their outfits for tonight's party." The four ruggers were discomfited to learn that Dylan was aware of the Last Night Before School party at their halls and that he intended to choose their party costumes. None of them was particularly smart, but you didn't need to be a rocket scientist to know this arrangement didn't bode well for them.

They were left in the flat with instructions to "fuck each other's brains out"

while Dylan, Miles and Ollie went out to the shops. When they returned an hour later, they found the ruggers on all fours, forming a ‘train' with Rob fucking Tom, who was fucking Craig, who was fucking Matt.

"Don't stop on our account," said Ollie. He picked up his camera and started snapping away.

"Check out what we got for you," Miles declared excitedly. (His excitement was not shared by the rugby lads.)

"We went through quite a bit of trouble to find you blokes costumes that fit your personalities," remarked Dylan. He extracted a very small box from his shopping bag.

"For you, Craig," he announced. "Since you're such a cheeky chap, we figured this would be right up your alley." He handed the box to Craig, who already had a sinking feeling about what garment could possibly be inside such a small box. He pulled off the cover to reveal a wad of neon green fabric that, upon being unfurled, turned out to be the ‘mankini' popularised by the Borat film.

Upon seeing his outfit for the party, Craig's face matched the colour of the mankini.

"It's spot on, don't you think?" crowed Miles, who had gleefully selected the costume knowing that the only part of the body it kept covered was the groin and that too was prone to accidental exposure if it wasn't adequately tight.

Unable to find a size that fit the short but muscular Craig, Miles had

(naturally) gone with a bigger size, thereby all but ensuring a wardrobe malfunction at the party.

"And for you, Tommy ... your big buff bod reminds one of a gladiator from Spartacus, so this was an almost automatic choice." The box Dylan handed to Tom was no bigger than Craig's and held a skimpy leather loincloth. It had no lining material under the flaps of leather, and was clearly meant to be worn over underwear, but Tom had the awful suspicion that he wasn't getting any underwear.

Dylan turned to Matt. "I was stumped on what to get you, but then Ollie had this brilliant idea."

Ollie chimed in. "Yeah, it was something that occurred to me the first time I saw you. You're definitely the kind of dude to be described as ‘pretty' rather than ‘hunky'. The vapid narcissism, shaved chest, and blondeness – could you be any more of a bimbo?"

"And so ..." Dylan passed Matt a third, equally-small box. The pretty boy ripped it open with trembling fingers and let out a wail when he saw its contents: a woman's hot pink string bikini.

"Oh wait, that's not the full costume," Dylan added. Matt looked up in faint hope, which was crushed as soon as Dylan revealed the remaining items of his

‘costume': a long blonde wig, a tube of bright pink lipstick, and a small container of blusher. Additionally, there was a bottle of baby oil that Craig, Tom and Matt were supposed to share among them.

Rob had been silently standing to the side, constantly shifting his position to relieve his throbbing arse and wondering what fresh horror was in store for him. If his friends' costumes were anything to go by, then his was probably going to be nothing more than a fig leaf!

So imagine his surprise when he was handed a large box and another bulky item in a paper bag. His costume consisted of a fireman's uniform complete with the yellow helmet.

"We figured you deserved a break," explained Dylan. "After all, you were such a good sport today, taking that double-dicking like a real man."

Rob didn't pick up on the sarcasm. He could hardly believe his luck; he was to be spared the humiliation that would surely befall his mates when they showed up to the party in such scanty costumes.

"Miles and I are going to be at the party, but I know that being seen associating with poofs is a social no-no for you guys, so we'll stay out of your way. In fact, just forget that we're even there." Since Dylan had said it in his hypnotic voice, the four ruggers would indeed be unaware of their presence. He also secretly implanted individual instructions into each hunk's mind.

"Now get out of here before we think of something new to do with you lot." The four lads didn't need any further encouragement. They practically ran out of Ollie's flat.

Miles nuzzled up to Dylan. "You know, I feel you're being kind of mean to Rob

– making him believe we're giving him a break. Why do you have it in for him so much worse than the other three?"

"Because he hurt you, babe ... and that's one thing I won't put up with. The little fucker deserves everything he gets and then some," replied Dylan fiercely.

"You're so hot when you get all protective," sighed Miles, and snogged him.

Dylan grabbed his bum and delved into his pants.

Ollie made gagging noises in the background. "Jeez, dudes! Get a room already!"

"It's not like you won't join us there," retorted Dylan.

"You know me too well."

Dylan noticed the faraway look in Miles's eyes. "What're you thinking of?"

"Oh, I just can't wait for tonight, and the look on Rob's face when he discovers his costume is a stripper's tear-away one!"

Part 8

Rob, Craig, Tom and Matt had been looking forward to the Last Night Before School party in their halls. It would have been a prime opportunity to drink themselves into a stupor and pick up a girl (or two) to fuck. Of course, that was before they’d fallen under Dylan’s hypnotic spell. Now they dreaded their impending exposure in front of dozens of their college-mates, and the fantasy of sex with a hot chick was replaced instead by the spectre of more homosexual depravity. 

They hurried through the city back to Fitzrovia, trying to avoid the sneers and wrinkled noses of passers-by. Not granted the chance to shower before leaving Ollie’s flat, they reeked of sex and sweat. The receptionist gave them a knowing smirk when he caught a whiff of the air as they dashed past him. 

But their ordeal didn’t end when they reached their rooms, for they were prohibited from immediately showering. Dylan had embedded instructions for the roommates to give each other full-body tongue baths. Special attention was to be paid to sucking the sweat from their armpits and navels, nibbling on their nipples, rimming their arses and deep-throating their cocks.¬ Neither pair of roommates was happy with each other so they did this with ill grace. Agonized squeals rang out as the ruggers bit down on each other’s nipples and yanked out body hair with their teeth. Dylan had read their personalities very well indeed; they were truly the instruments of their own downfall. 

Once they’d polished each other’s bodies with spit, they followed it up with a thick layer of baby oil. The oil made their physiques glisten and emphasised their stunning musculature. This was perfect for Craig, Tom and Matt in their skimpy costumes. Rob, on the other hand, wondered why he needed to be oiled up when he was so covered up in the fireman’s uniform. Being rather obtuse he did not notice anything suspicious about his costume while putting it on and erroneously believed Dylan that he had been granted a merciful respite from the near-constant humiliation of the last two days. 

The four lads went down to the common room together, Rob marching ahead confidently while the other three lagged behind, acutely aware of the amount of bare skin they were flaunting. The party was just getting underway so the small crowd was immediately alerted to their arrival. There were a couple of guys there who’d fashioned togas out of their bedsheets which showed off a bit of skin but nowhere near the extent of Craig in his mankini, Tom in his loincloth or Matt in his string bikini. The trio was very much the laughing stock of the party. 

“You make a pretty chick,” one of the rugby team lads ribbed Matt. The poor boy blushed under his blonde wig and makeup. 

“Cheeky little sod,” exclaimed another, pulling on the strap of Craig’s loose mankini and causing one of his balls to momentarily slip out. The lime-green costume left very little of Craig’s body to the imagination. It didn’t even cover his pubic hair! Passing girls took the opportunity to ‘twang’ the straps of his mankini and feel up his bare bum. 

One of them lifted up the rear flap of Tom’s loincloth and discovered that he had nothing on underneath. “You’re such a man-slut!” she murmured before making her discovery known to her friends, who surrounded the blond stud to see for themselves. 

Over the next hour, the scantily-clad teens were repeatedly fondled and ridiculed by the ever-increasing crowd. Several of the newcomers hadn’t intended to attend the party but were invited by their mates to witness the spectacle of three hunky ruggers brazenly flaunting their bodies. All of them had their camera phones out to record the studs’ debauchery which they planned to tease them about for the rest of the academic year. 

The top half of Matt’s bikini had been removed within the first few minutes and his exposed “tits” were mauled by onlookers. They were soon hard as glass. More worryingly, the nipple stimulation was making his cock stir and the growing bulge in his bikini bottoms did not pass unnoticed. 

“Look, she’s enjoying it!” screamed one of the girls. 

“Naughty girls need to be punished,” slurred one of the boys who’d had too much to drink. With the help of his mates he threw Matt facedown across his lap and started spanking his bum! 

The bikini bunched up in Matt’s crack and revealed glowing pink cheeks as Matt wailed in distress. He had always been sensitive about his pretty-boy looks and Dylan had calculated correctly that the bikini would hit the vain lad where it hurt the most. But even he couldn’t have predicted the degree of success that his scheme would bring! 

Craig was being pushed around within a circle of drunk party-goers, his mankini being pulled this way and that. He trembled with shame knowing that the slightest movement exposed his junk. A particularly forceful pair of girls nearly ripped his costume apart as they tugged it in opposing directions, and Craig barely retained his dignity. 

“Guys, come on, let up!” he beseeched to no avail. Instead this seemed to invite a new cycle of abuse as the circle of his tormentors began slapping his bare rump until it was as pink as Matt’s. 

Meanwhile Tom was splayed out on a chair in a corner of the room. Eager hands caressed his oiled-up biceps, squeezed his beefy pecs and stroked his rock-hard abs. In the relative seclusion, more daring ones even dived beneath his loincloth to tease his cock and probe his hot, sweaty hole. A moist spot soon appeared on the front of his tented loincloth. He was mortified, especially when his molesters wiped their fingers clean on his lips. 

Through it all Rob watched the misfortunes of his friends with detached glee. He himself was exempt from this degrading treatment, although he did receive some remarks about whether “little Robbie” would be paying another visit, which made him grimace. 

However, his luck was about to take a turn for the worse. Dylan (accompanied by Miles) arrived at the party and swiftly assessed the situation. All the lads were suffering ... except Rob. It was time to remedy that. Dylan walked over to the guy in charge of music and had a ‘word’ with him. 

The music suddenly changed to “You Can Leave Your Hat On”. The song had the same effect on Rob that it had during the stage show. He suddenly leapt up on the low table at the centre of the room and started to strip! 

Poor Rob realized that he had been lulled into a false sense of security. He was not escaping the humiliation piled on his three mates; on the contrary, he was due for far worse. The party-goers cheered on the strip-dancing stud as he tore off his shirt. 

“I just knew the original exhibitionist wouldn’t keep his clothes on!” crowed one of the spectators. 

“He’s so proud of his itsy bitsy cock, he can’t wait to show it off again!” laughed another. 

The others just chanted, “Take it off! Take it off! Take it ALL off!” 

Rob caught Dylan’s eye above the heads of his clamouring audience. He could only smile inanely during his strip-tease but mentally he was begging the hypnotist to have mercy on him. 

“I don’t think so,” Dylan told him telepathically. “We can’t disappoint all these people now, can we?” 

Rob’s hands went to his trousers and ripped them off. The pale pink silk thong underneath did little to preserve his modesty, even if he was allowed to keep them on, and Rob strongly doubted that. How had he not realized the reason for this skimpy underwear when he’d put it on? 

Dylan’s voice intruded on his thoughts again. “See the beer bottle in that guy’s hand?” 

Rob automatically reached out and grabbed the beer from the guy holding it. 

“Hey!” protested the guy. “I just started drinking that!” 

His rebuke was cut short when Rob emptied the beer over his own head. The sticky golden liquid splashed sexily down his magnificent torso and turned the thin, pale silk of his thong translucent. He unwillingly drew attention to his under-endowed crotch by thrusting it in his spectators’ faces. 

The audience screamed in delight. 

“Oh my god, I can already make out his cock!” 

“It’s as small as you said!” 

“I can’t believe a big guy like him has such a small dick!” 

Rob wanted to sink into the ground. He prayed that he would not have to take off the thong, too. Suddenly the scant protection it offered his dignity seemed immense. 

“You know the drill,” said Dylan’s voice in his head. 

With a suppressed sob, Rob flung off the thong, baring his shaved cock and balls for the audience. 

There was a moment of silence. Then the laughter resumed, now double in volume. 

“Look at his tiny cock!” 

“Are you getting this on camera?” 

“He wasn’t fully shaved on Friday?” 

“Oh he’s probably preparing for this. Maybe he thinks it’ll make him look bigger!” 

“Not much chance of that!” 

“It does get bigger,” cried Rob, surprising even himself. 

“Oh yeah?” challenged Nico, one of the guys from the rugby team. 

“Yeah!” Rob reached down and started to stroke his cock! 

“What the fuck!” yelled Nico. 

But that wasn’t all; Rob took the beer bottle he had emptied over himself and stuck it up his own arse! His stunned audience watched as he fisted his cock with one hand and bottle-fucked his arse with the other. 

“Fucking hell, this one’s a batty boy through and through!” jeered Danny. 

“Stop it, you queer!” ordered Ricky, but his words didn’t have the same weight as Dylan’s hypnotic commands. 

“I’m going to call someone, this has spiralled out of control,” said one of the more prudish girls, her face curled in disdain. 

Dylan let her go, but not before implanting her mind with the suggestion to inform the receptionist instead of the warden. He wondered idly if she would return with the cavalry before Rob shot his load. He hoped it would be after. 

Rob had buried the neck of the bottle in his arse (an easy fit for him considering he’d been double-fucked earlier in the day). The audience, most of them wasted at this point, seemed at a loss on what to do. Some of the rugby lads managed to drag Rob down from the table but he just sprawled on a couch and continued to violate himself. His cock was at maximum stiffness, albeit still far from an impressive sight. 

“Christ, how much has he had to drink?” muttered someone, chalking Rob’s bizarre antics down to inebriation. 

“I can’t watch,” squealed a girl, but continued to peek through her fingers. 

“This is so sick,” mumbled another rugger, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away either. 

Rob felt the pressure building in his balls. He was about to cum. Friday’s striptease in the college auditorium now seemed a slight inconvenience compared to this horror. How would he ever live this down? (The answer: he wouldn’t.) 

He uttered a guttural groan as he ejaculated, splattering himself with cum. Cries of disgust echoed through the room. “Gross!” “What the fuck is wrong with you man?” 

It was at this juncture that the receptionist, Phil, arrived. He had scarcely believed the incredible tale that had brought him there. Now he wasn’t sure where to fix his gaze, with four attractive teenagers in various states of undress. Inevitable, his gaze settled on Rob since he was the only one of them who was totally naked, sporting a throbbing hard-on, streaked with cum and frigging his own arse with a beer bottle. 

Phil’s eyes widened in shock. It was almost a minute before he managed to gather his wits. 

“What the hell is going on here? This behaviour is unacceptable!” He grabbed Rob by the arm, concealing his delight at touching the firm muscle. “You’re coming with me!” 

Rob would have resisted if Dylan hadn’t telepathically communicated for him to obey Phil. “Do whatever he tells you.” 

Phil dragged the naked stud out of the common room. He was going to send the twat back to his room (after drinking in the gorgeous sight) but he was intercepted by Dylan. 

“Hi Phil,” Dylan said brightly. 

“Excuse me, I gotta take this lad back to his room.” 

“Oh, but wouldn’t you rather take him back to YOUR room?” 

Phil stared at Dylan. 

“Come on, Phil,” cajoled Dylan. “I know you want to.” 

“Uh, how do you mean?” Phil squinted at Dylan. “Do I know you from somewhere?” 

“I’m responsible for Rob’s current predicament - a predicament which I’m sure you’d like to add to.” Dylan had done his homework. He saw that Phil had a hatred of young rugby players, and justifiably. He had once been one of them, until his homosexuality became known to his teammates. At the following practice, he was ‘accidentally’ pinned under a brutal tackle that left him with a shattered kneecap and no chance of ever playing again. The message was clear: there was no place for poofs in rugby. 

“What are you talking about?” asked the perplexed Phil. “Do you have something to do with this?” He gestured at the squirming, naked teen in his grasp. 

Dylan explained his powers to the sceptical receptionist. “I’ll prove it to you. If he wasn’t under my control, would Rob actually allow me to do this?” He reached and twisted one of Rob’s nipples viciously. “Or this?” He pressed the beer bottle deeper into Rob’s bum, making him yelp. “Or this?” He yanked Rob’s balls, eliciting a squeal. 

Through it all the tearful stud just took it. 

“Shit, you weren’t kidding!” exclaimed Phil. 

“Rob is as much a bigot as your teammates from 20 years ago,” noted Dylan (much to Phil’s surprise). “In their position he would do the same. Trust me, I’ve read his mind. I know he isn’t a fair substitute for the pain they caused you but he does make a lovely little plaything, wouldn’t you agree?” 

Phil eyed up the naked hunk hungrily. “Oh, he’ll do perfectly.” He ran his hand over Rob’s chiselled physique with impunity. “Can I do whatever I want?” 

Dylan had seen into Phil’s mind and had an inkling of the tortures he planned for the hapless Rob. He almost felt sorry for him. “As long as you don’t fuck him up too badly.” 

Phil rubbed his hands together in glee. “Oh, I’ve wanted to get my hands on this bastard since I first laid eyes on his smug face. Come along, stud.” He grabbed Rob by his sticky cock and led him to his room. Rob cast a miserable glance backwards but Dylan simply waved him goodbye flippantly. 

“Now,” muttered Dylan, “for the other three.” He ducked back into the common room with decisive plans on what to dish out to Craig, Tom and Matt. 

He entered the mind of a girl in whom he sensed a dominant streak. Maya was an ardent feminist and she had come to the party with her likeminded friend, Abby. Both of them had little affection for hunky boys who used and discarded women. They would make the perfect companions for Matt. He sent them off to Matt’s room where he was sure they would have a lot of fun since he had commanded Matt to submit to their every desire. The feminized hunk was under strict instructions to “show off” his dildo collection to the girls. 

Dylan had his own agenda for Craig and Tom so he had them disentangle themselves from the party and follow him and Miles. Their destination was Hampstead Heath, a park in north London famed as a gay haunt for illicit sex. The near-naked lads attracted a lot of attention on the Tube journey up to Hampstead. A hen party group in the same carriage insisted on taking photos with the two teens. They pulled Craig’s mankini to one side and lifted up Tom’s loincloth so that both lads were full-frontal nude and stroked them to stiffness. The ruggers quaked in fear of where the photos would end up. 

They were already on edge and their misery was only compounded when Dylan revealed their instructions for the night. 

“A little contest, to see which of you can pull more conquests in one night. I know it isn’t an entirely new concept to either of you, since you’ve been keeping score of how many girls you’ve slept with. Tonight, however, there’ll be a couple of twists. I think a minimum number of sex partners needs to be imposed. What do you think is a fair number, Miles?” 

Miles thought quickly. He really craved to see these two jerks used and abused to the hilt. “Um, well, maybe one for every year of their lives?” 

Tom and Craig couldn’t believe their ears. They were expected to be fucked by 18 men in one night? That was more than the number of women they’d bedded in their entire lives! 

“At least 18,” corrected Dylan. “Remember, that’s the minimum. Feel free to exceed it. Whoever bags the most men wins tonight’s contest. The loser will have to pay a forfeit.” 

Tom and Craig waited with bated breath to hear what awful punishment was in store for the loser. 

“He will need to come here every weekend and repeat the experience, adding one extra fucker every week until the end of the school year. By my calculation, that’ll be 50 guys in one night by the time summer rolls around.” 

Needless to say, it was a terrifying penalty for the straight boys. 

“A couple more conditions,” added Dylan. “Whatever sex act your patrons demand, give it to them as long as you’re on the receiving end. Only penetrative sex counts, but you can’t refuse them if they ask for something else. If they ask why you won’t top, reply that you’re total bottom sluts and that you want to be used like cheap whores.” He was highly amused by the identical expressions of horror on the ruggers’ faces. “Now get to work!” 

It swiftly became obvious that the straight pair didn’t have the first clue about picking up men. 

“Would you like to fuck me sir?” Craig beseeched an older gentleman who was taken aback by the candid request. 

“Er, sorry, lad, you’re a bit young for me.” 

“Too young?” repeated Craig incredulously. He cast a nervous glance at Tom who was attempting to chat up a young gay couple with only marginal success. 

“Look, I’ll do whatever you want! I’m a fucking whore and I’ll do anything.” 

The older man paused in his tracks. “Anything?” 

Craig gulped, wondering if it was too late to backtrack. He glanced at Tom’s progress and was dismayed to see that the blond had been stripped naked of even his loincloth and prepared to be spit-roasted by the couple. 

“Yeah, anything!” he promised urgently. 

A few moments later he was on his knees, choking on the older man’s cock while he pissed down Craig’s throat. The guy was casually carrying on phone conversations with friends, inviting them to visit the Heath where there were “a couple of man-sluts without boundaries just gagging for it”. 

The next few hours were interesting to watch. Dozens of men converged on the heath to avail themselves of Tom and Craig’s “charms”. There was certainly no question of whether the boys would meet their minimum. It was not every day that a couple of sexy, well-muscled teenagers whored themselves out for anything and everything punters threw at them, so no one wanted to pass up a piece of the action. 

Tom was tied to a tree and whenever his arse was not in use (which admittedly was rarely), punters would take a belt to it. His taut body twisted and flailed handsomely each time a blow landed on his pert glutes, turning them a dusky pink by the end of the night. Some punters chose to direct their belt lashes to his magnificent abs, enjoying their involuntary flexing. Hands (and some tongues) roamed over the rest of his body, revelling in the impressive muscle tone. His nipples were tweaked and chewed on until they were puffy and sore. 

Craig, meanwhile, was flat on his back on a park bench as one man after another sat on his face and made him eat them out. His face was coated with arse slime and spit while the rest of his body was slick with sweat, piss and cum. Then hot wax was added to the mix. A punter had brought candles and others joined him in dripping the hot, melting wax onto Craig’s helpless body. With his face continuously buried in musky arse-crack, he wasn’t able to see where the wax would fall next, and the tension in his muscular physique as he awaited each burning drop of agony was a beauty to behold. Wax criss-crossed his body - not even his cock and balls were spared. The fun didn’t end there, because tearing the dried wax off his lightly furred body provided further amusement. (Craig’s natural hairiness was part of the reason he’d been selected over the smooth-skinned Tom.) 

Now, none of this counted towards their penetrative sex tally, but Tom and Craig couldn’t refuse it since they were mentally bound to satisfy their punters’ every whim. That’s not to say they didn’t get royally fucked, for they certainly were, but for every fuck they also had to put up with at least one other sex act. Some punters were gentle, but most of them weren’t and quite a few of them were downright kinky. Whatever depravity was done to them, Tom and Craig had to thank their punters and beg for more like bitches in heat. 

“Give it to me hard!” “Yeah, that’s it, fuck me deep!” “Give me everything you’ve got!” “Thank you for making me your bitch!” “I love the taste of arse sir! Give me more!” “Oh yes, rip my cunt up!” “ 

It was this element of their subjugation which crushed them more than anything else. 

Sometime during the night a constable came to investigate the commotion on the heath. Tom and Craig wondered whether he would be their salvation to break up the orgy or whether he’d arrest them for gross indecency in a public park. The redheaded copper did neither, as he was apparently known to Dylan. He often brought his mind-control victims up to the heath to be publicly demeaned so it made sense to work his magic on the local constabulary. 

“Fucking hell, you’ve really outdone yourself this time,” exclaimed the constable, licking his lips at the sight of the two hapless hunks being thoroughly used. “These two are ripped! Are they even legal?” 

“Just about,” confirmed Dylan. “Which one do you want?” 

The cop considered his options. “I usually go for the blonds but the arse on the dark-haired one is something else.” At least five other men, who were simultaneously fingering Craig’s incredibly tight and muscular bum, concurred with him. 

“Good choice,” said Dylan approvingly. “But no one’s to say you can’t have them both.” 

The cop grinned. He would take Dylan up on that offer before the night was out. Tom and Craig were in for one HELL of a night! 

Back at Cleveland Hall, Matt was not faring much better. He might only have had two girls to contend with, but both had a great deal of pent-up aggression towards men in general and were determined to work it out on his body. 

“I can’t believe he’s such a kinky little shit,” remarked Maya as she vigorously fucked Matt’s arse with one of the dildos. 

“It doesn’t surprise me, his promiscuity is probably just overcompensation for his true submissive nature.” Abby was thrusting the other dildo so far down Matt’s throat that the poor guy was in danger of choking. 

He looked a sight. The girls had scribbled insults in lipstick all over his body and clamped clothes pegs to his nipples, cock and ballsack. Matt had not only let them do this to him, but actually implored them to. 

“Use me like a worthless man-whore!” he found himself saying as he showed them ‘his’ collection of dildos. 

“Oh, you can bet that cute little arse of yours we will,” Maya had promised, and she made good on it. 

Being at the mercy of two girls was a total mind-fuck for Matt. He felt his masculinity was at stake. It didn’t help when he came while Maya was dildo-fucking him. 

“The freak is actually enjoying himself! Tell me, fucktoy, have you ever had gay sex?” 

Matt was compelled to reply truthfully that he had. 

“Abby, why don’t you call your brother up? I bet he’d enjoy a turn on this muscle Mary.” 

Abby’s gay brother didn’t believe her when she called him. “There’s a what?” 

There was a desperate squawk from Matt, and Abby turned around to witness Maya trying to shove a second dildo up his already stuffed cunt. 

Maya shrugged. “He seemed like his cunt could take a stretching. I hate these straight boys who’re so keen to fuck women up the bum. See how they like it!” 

“Lift his legs up,” Abby told her. “I’ll send my brother a photo. He’ll have to believe me then.” 

The image of the muscular, feminized stud with his arsehole stretched lewdly around two dildos was enough to convince Abby’s brother, and he wasted no time in hotfooting it over to Matt’s room. He also brought a friend. Both were beyond thrilled to find a muscular hunk in such a vulnerable position. 

“He really is a muscle Mary!” crowed Abby’s brother. “I can’t believe he’s taking two dildos! What a freaking slut.” 

His friend suggested, “Why don’t we give the taste of real dick instead of fake ones?” 

Matt had the sinking feeling that he was about to experience another double-penetration, except this time with two real dicks. Maybe he should have considered the possibility after seeing Rob’s ordeal earlier that day. 

If you had asked Rob though, he might have preferred another double-penetration to what Phil had devised for him. Once they got to Phil’s room, the older man had the teen lie spread-eagled on the floor. He stripped off his clothes, revealing that he had kept himself in shape. 

“Lick my arse,” he ordered Rob. “Make love to it with your tongue.” 

Rob buried his snout in Phil’s musky man-trench and munched on his hole, all the while cooing about how amazing it tasted. Meanwhile Phil ran his hands over Rob’s physique, laughing at his tiny cock and working the beer bottle even deeper into Rob’s arse. It was now buried well past its neck and Rob’s sphincter, which had barely recovered from double-dicking, was now stretched around the widest part of the bottle. His agonized grunts were muffled by Phil’s arse-cheeks. 

“So you little bitch, you think gay men have no place in sport, eh?” Phil snarled. “Well, I’ll show you.” 

Phil got out the tub of medicinal cream he still had to use for his knee sometimes. It was prescribed for external use only. He dipped his fingers in the tub, coating them thickly with the cream. Then he unceremoniously pulled the bottle out of Rob’s arse and, before his sphincter had the chance to close, shoved four fingers into the gaping orifice. 

If he wasn’t being suffocated by Phil’s arse, Rob would have yelled the place down. The cream set his raw rectum on fire. 

“Relax,” grunted Phil. “Don’t be a big baby. You think you’re hurting now? It took my knee months to heal. And I’ve not gotten to the best bit yet.” 

Through tears of pain, Rob dreaded what Phil might consider the "best bit". Phil had thick fingers, and four of them were already stretching Rob wider than when he’d been double-dicked. Then he felt Phil trying to insert his thumb too. 

The sound Rob made was barely human. A massive fist punching its way into his burning insides was beyond even his endurance. He passed out as Phil began thrust his forearm in and out. Phil slapped him back to consciousness. 

“I want you to feel this,” he hissed. “You thought you were superior to fags right? That we were sissy boys who can’t handle a real man’s sport? Then you should be able to take this. Take it you fucker!” 

Poor Rob wouldn’t have even a moment’s respite in his night of pain. 

On the heath, Dylan finally called an end to the contest between Tom and Craig. The teenage ruggers were utterly filthy, exhausted and totally fucked-up. After being bent over and fucked in every imaginable position, beaten and molested, they weren’t even certain which way was up. The one thing they had not track of was the tally of men who’d fucked either their mouth or arse. 

“So Tom, how many men had their way with you tonight?” asked Dylan. 

Tom bowed his head. He had been well-used, but he suspected not as much as Craig. They were both supremely fit but Craig’s ultra-tight arse, furry body and cheeky chappy look seemed to have been more popular with the punters. 

“29,” he admitted. 

Craig croaked in delight. “I had 34!” Then he realized the ‘achievement’ in which he was taking pride, and was disgusted with himself. Had he really let himself get fucked 5 times more than Tom, when he’d only needed one extra fuck? At least, he thought, this meant he wouldn’t have to repeat the ordeal, adding another man every weekend. He could live with that. It certainly beat being molested and fucked weekly by dozens of strangers. 

Unfortunately, the grin on Dylan’s face gave him pause. 

“Why are you smiling?” 

“I think you’ll find you’re not counting correctly. Do you remember what my instructions were, Craig?” 

“Minimum 18 men, and only penetrative sex,” recounted Craig. “I did a lot more than that!” 

“Oh I don’t doubt that you exceeded your minimum, but did you actually get fucked by 34 men?” 

“Yes!” insisted Craig. “28 times in the arse and 6 blowjobs. I counted!” 

“That’s correct, but were they different men every time?” 

Craig’s eyes widened and he stammered, “What? I ... I ...” 

“Don’t worry, Craig. I helped you keep count. It turns out your arse was so good that six of the men who fucked it went back for seconds. I can’t say I blame them; your arse is luscious. So your true tally was only 28 men. Tom, on the other hand, had different men each of his 29 times. So you’re off the hook, Tom. And Craig, you know where you’ll be spending your weekends.” 

Craig crumpled to the ground, howling, “Nooooooooooo!” 

It was not a good night to be a homophobe.