BDSM Library - Story: You Can Never Go Home, Chapter: Part 5

You can never go home 5

by Emile

"Are you sure of that diagnosis doc? I have the boys here from the crime squad and they think it looks like a pretty aggressive case of male rape. That arsehole is pretty badly battered, doc, the lips are red and gaping. He was found sprawled, butt naked in the forest.There are bruises on his arms and thighs, the chipped tooth, and someone has really gone to town on his tackle. You sure it wasn't rape?"

Greg began coming round, still feeling woozy and disorientated. He remembered Clayton brutally fucking his hole, long hard thrusts that began with just the plum knob of his dark and veiny stalk pressing juice against his cornhole, teasing the sphincter, way too big to penetrate the tight cherry half its size, and then with a grunt, slamming the full power of his muscular backside into the thrust, forcing the pussylips apart until the greasy warm throbbing cock was balls deep. The fuck had been long and brutal, made worse by Clayton's monologue of "You want it bitch" and "Oh yeah, I'm gonna fuck you pregnant, just like Reb". The long strokes hauled Greg back with such force that when Clayton slammed in extra hard to pump volleys of his creamy load, he grabbed Greg's nads for leverage, nearly ripping them off. The pain had made him black out, until now.

Even through the foggy brain, he felt a burning shame of having been arsefucked, this time not just a vegetable or a dong but a real flesh-and-blood cuntbuster, and he'd let him do it too. And fuck, the monster cock Clayton drove into his hole made his earlier rape pale seem minor - he'd willingly given up his sore cornhole to get ripped apart by an unlubricated oversized porker, who'd rutted him like a milk cow on all fours by the side of the road. The humiliation seared through him. A few weeks ago he'd been a regular, handsome athletic young man, brave and independently searching for his father, for a heart warming male-bonding reunion. He'd left behind a string of girls that had admired his swarthy buff body swung off his meaty dick, and a bunch of frat mates that had trained, drank and partied with him like a brother. He'd been confident in his masculinity. Somehow, since then, he'd allowed unknown and unkind hands to pinch, prod and pierce him, savage his beautiful stalk, stretch a stinking ugly hood over his fleshy helmet, swell his balls and prevent him releasing them, and eventually, force feed his bunghole unnaturally large objects. Now, his fine strapping form had been slowly stripped of all dignity, his clothes, his freedom, even his male virginity, and was at the merciless mercy of everyone - his father, teachers, doctors, even the bullies at school and his girlfriend's twisted brother.

His arse still smarted like crazy, and he could feel he was propped up on all fours, his muscles cramping in that crouched position. He could hear mens voices around him - multiple men - just above his back. As if trying to douse the raw burning feeling, he felt slick droplets of sweat course down from between his shoulderblades, down to his tight waist to nestle between his arsecheeks, the apparent focus of their attention. His oversized dork, too, he could feel hang painfully between his legs, no longer supported by the tapering dickroot, tugging against his crotch and jutting out and swinging heavily.

"As punishing an arsefucking as he might have had, officer, I'm afraid to say no. His father is a friend of yours, I know, so this must be hard to accept. He might be a junior, but look at his biceps, his barrel chest and muscular arse. If he'd wanted to fight off trouble, he could have. I'm surprised you don't recognise a fag when you see one. They're obsessed with big dicks too - see how he's shaved around his crotch to make his tubesteak look bigger. I mean, that thing's obscene already, especially that split peach of a head peeking out from the dirty stinking hood. And when I heft his low hanging ballbag, like this, hear him groan. See how they're heavy, almost swollen. You feel. What do you suppose that means?"

"Uh, it feels kinda strange cradling his sac, doctor, do I have to.... I mean, when I haven't cum a while, my nuts ache and get pretty big too..."

"Well yes, that's okay for a man like you, and Janine says that's not the only big thing down there! My point being that yes, for normal men that may be the case, but jangle them some more. Hear how he moans. That's no ordinary case of blue balls officer, that's the kind of swelling you get from some hard core ballbashing. Fags even have a name for it - CBT. Yes siree, he beats his nads for pleasure, stretches 'em as well, I'd say, that ballbag hangs unnat'rally low, let me tell you.

Greg opened his heavy lidded eyes. His vision was hazy and he felt very unsteady. As far as he could tell, he was kneeling on a metal examination gurney back in the clinic, with officers either side of him, arse up and facing the officer and doctor behind him. He tried to say something, but his tongue was heavy and swollen, and his chipped tooth throbbed. Craning his neck up, he saw the open door in front of him, looking straight at the waiting room, where half a dozen patients were staring with disgust at the crouching boy. He hung his head back down, looking between his legs. His swollen dork stared back at him, the dicklips winking at the door with the foreskin part retracted, and below the fat shaft, he could see the officer's meaty hand still hefting his balls, each roll of his fingers sending waves of pain shooting up his hole and lower back. His nuts hurt if he even lightly fingered them these days, at they probably were mashed when he fell. But the burly officer hadn't let go when he found out about the ball pain. On the contrary, he was rolling his nuts between his fingers now, squeezing the leathery sac until it went red and angry. Hidden from view of everyone in the room except him.

He wanted to cry out, to climb off the gurney, but his body wouldn't respond, it was dully and heavy, like he'd felt when the doctor had drugged him during his 'stay'. He saw the doc through his legs, smirking at the waking boy. He gestured to a nurse to wheel over an instrument tray, and the last thing Greg saw was the doctor pushing apart his corded thighs wide, before the nurse forced his upper back down until his nipples grazed the cold metal table, forcing him to prop himself up uncomfortably on this bowed arms, and stare back forward at the staring audience. Above his tapered back, the nurse had wheeled over the instrument tray, and he could feel the metal crossbar pressing into his shoulderblades. With his legs spread that wide, and back forced down he was trapped - the only way he could climb down now without falling was if he backed away, his high tail first - not an option with the team still gathered around his rump.

But the real evidence, uncontroverible, as you'd say, is right here at the scene of the crime, so as to speak. When I wipe away the leaking cum, see how the sphincter winks like that officer. See how stretched it is. The relative lack of blood. He's been arsefucked before. By some brutally large objects, I'd say. In fact, I even know of one - it's in his inpatient records here from his last visit - Found with a large knobbed cucumber lodged in his rectum. Measurements 12.5 inches long, girth 10 inch circumference. What's that, over 3 inches thick? This boy, I'm afraid to say, probably did this to himself.

That's disgusting. What am I supposed to tell his father? I mean, the boys here don't want to investigate a male rape, sure, but I can't release a report saying he was voluntarily buttfucked ... I mean sodomised ... the whole town would laugh. It just, it makes me mad...

Whoa, easy there officer, if you kneed those balls any more he will look like a rape case. They're practically bursting as it is. Don't worry about anything - in my report, I'll put that his arsehole was... how should I put it ... "no more dialated than usual." We'll just say he fell and hurt himself. We'll keep him here a few days just to make sure no-one notices him walking funny. Will that do? You can even keep one or two of your men here to watch over him until he's ready to make a statement in support."

Greg began making sounds, trying desperately to form words. He started to sweat with the effort, slowly trying to move his stiff muscles. He wanted to tell them it was wrong, he'd been raped, he wanted to scream.

Nurse, another dose of ketamine, please, the patient appears to be agitated. You know that for trauma diagnosis, the sedative really is mandatory. Once we're done, and he comes around, your boys can get that affadavit. Now officer, will you be telling his father?

He felt a jab in his arse and lost the ability to struggle, to speak. Greg stared forward motionless, as the doctor, nurse and seargent walked out, finally closing the door behind them. From behind him, one big officer walked to the door, carefully locking it. When he turned back, Greg watched his bearded jaw crease to a grin, as he popped a few shirt buttons.

"Okay boys, we can get comfortable now. You heard the sarge, this one won't be reported. You boys always wanted yourself a real life sicko, how you brought the 'evidence' bag..."

Greg heard shifting noises behind him. He felt a tingling feeling, as one man slid his finger up his inner thigh, greasing it with Rey's cum as it slid up towards his chute, easily penetrating the corrugated hole. Another man had gripped his balls, a tighter hold than the seargent's, and began hefting them. The meathead in front of him popped some more buttons on his blue uniform shirt, revealing his muscular chest and hairy abs. In contrast to the clean pressed cotton and shiny star badge, the greasy skin underneath was marked with a mean looking tattoo of an eagle - talons out and ready to savage - covering his pec slab. The man had a thin silver chain around his neck, and as he leaned forward to whisper in his ear, he saw the eagle rear up in front of him, and the chain swing in his face. He recognised it immediately - his stolen chain and locker key! But he soon had other things to worry about...

"So, pussyboy, you like a bit of rough action. Well lucky for you the rape squad here are experts. Our investigations can take months - long hard months - as many a guy will testify. But you're a special case, aren't you. You weren't officially raped at all. And we know you love being knocked around, which is a real waste of a pretty boy jock body, some might say. So here's how it's gonna go. When you come around, you'll sign a full statement saying you pulled this stunt for attention. For wasting our time, you'll agree to twenty five weekends community service - clearing highway trash with the prisoners. Of course you'll be a special case, so instead of those harsh orange jumpsuits, you'll have your own gear - I've got a pair of cut down orange shorts that should do the trick. We've had plenty of guys wear 'em before, so they'll be worn in for you. Unfortunately the fly buttons are all gone, and it has nice big leg holes for easy access up, and dangling down in your case.

They were fingerfucking his hole swiftly now, and he was getting achingly hard, despite the horrifying descriptions the cop was giving. The cop went into minute detail about how the shorts had cords sewn in from the front waistband to the back, which stopped the material stretching and pulled the front down, revealing pubes (if any), and the rear down revealing crack - all tugged down by his horescock which would be straining against the cords, dicklips rubbing against raw rope. Somehow, with the K coursing through his system, it was all vivid.

We'll pick you up nice and early each Saturday so you'll have to wait on the kerb in just the prison boxer briefs. Once you're in the car of course you can shuck them down, and ride one of our greased up poles to the worksite. Your arse will get a weeks recovery each time, just enough for to lull to a dull ache, ready for the next weekend's cherry popping. Personally I'd like you to slide your muscular globes slowly down on my stalk while you face me, so I can see you tense and suck air as your sensitive chute is battered again. If the site is close, we'll probably still be fucking - by which I mean you'll still be sliding yourself on my prong - when we arrive. The cons really enjoy seeing a sweat slicked jockboy fucking himself on one of our thick cuntstuffers, particularly when if you pant and leak yourself - they know that while they might be getting sloppy seconds, neither you nor we will stop them from taking out all their pent up aggression on you.

Now these guys have had garbage bitches before, so expect no mercy. You'll probably get used to guys kneading and mauling your nads until they're permanently bloated and aching, especially since your garbage bag will be cinched directly to your ballbag, not to your belt like the others. We like using trash bags to stretch your own swollen trash bags, 'cause you never know what heavy greasy shit you're gonna find roadside and have to lug along. That'll probably really hurt and ache your nads, especially when the inmates step on the bag or chuck rocks in for you, but then what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, eh. Then of course there are the special duties. Bitch boys get all the used condoms the guys pick up - to clean off with your pretty pouty mouth, and then roll down your porkroll for reuse by guys who come to fuck you. Course with your hefty slab, some of those tight used condoms will really be painfully tight. You'll find after the first week, some of the guys will even bring their own from the prison - freshly used from fucking their prison bitches. Of course they wear them to the worksite so the load and arsejuice is nice and fresh for you to lick off their spic cocks. And that's not to mention the extra condoms you'll need to clean off when they buttfuck you on breaks, that is if they're not stretching out your hole any other way.

Then there are dildos and dongs - rule is anything they find on the roadside you take the rest of the day up your chute. Now I don't know if many chicks dump their dongs roadside as a habit, or the prisoners don't just bring some with, but I've never known a bitchboy go more than 2 weeks without some 12 inch rotating bruiser surfacing in the dirt. Just hope they don't find two in one trip like they did last year - getting double stuffed by rubber prongs can really stretch you out.

But don't you worry your sloppy little arse about the cons, we're gonna make your life living hell ourselves. First we're gonna cut tiny slits in your big fat dork there, and rub in salt, each week, until that fat dork is crisscrossed with ugly ridges of tough scar tissue. We'll lace up your stalk from root to cockhead with fishing wire, and bait the fishhook through your stinking cockflap, stretching it back and exposing your tender dicklips to our fingers. We noticed you leak a lot, so we thought we might widen your pisslips with straws, so you can't stop the flow. We're gonna cane your rump with nice thin bamboo rods. Jake here is an expert, he can land every blow on the same line, and loves aiming right for the crease of your rosebud - so you'll find sitting or squatting agony. Of course, he does vary his blows, so your bag is in for some whipping.

Man, this is getting me all juiced up just talking about it. You too, that fat fucker of yours never lets up. Here, Jake, clip that cockring to the base, the tight steel will keep that fucker bloated. Nah, just squeeze harder, it'll snap closed, even if it is a bit small, that'll just make the shaft bulge more. Now me, as you can probably tell from the thick PA I'm ramming in your pouty lips, I like piercings. Careful there, or you'll chip another tooth, eh. Oh stupid me, I'm in control, let me thrust it a little deeper. Ungh, yeah, well like I said, I like a bit of cock jewelry, and if I've got it, then my boys have to have it too. Being only a minor and all though, might raise questions if your daddy sees you professionally pierced, so we'll have to use paperclips and keyrings and shit to make it look homemade, like you skewered your own cock. Hey, don't choke on my cockleak, that sap is precious. Go on, swallow. Right well I want some iron rings to match your thick dork, and some of the bigger keyrings are a bitch to thread though, hopefully we don't stretch the pierced holes too much. Oh yeah, and bulldog clips will look real pretty too, although they could sting a bit.

Anyway you dumbfuck, it's not all CBT. We like our prisoners to look the part. After your 6 months community service you'll be shipped on our special summer camp for wayward youths. Starts before your term is up, but you'll be right repeating I'm sure. That's when the real job starts. I mean sure you'll be prodded and mauled and fucked each weekend, too. At camp, we'll smooth off that clippered chest of yours - we've got some strong hair remover for that. A blank canvas. See this tattoo - well, it's nothing compared to what we'll do to you. We'll tell your daddy some boys gave it to you - yeah, it'll be a real homemade job. A harness tattooed permanently on your torso, strapping your shoulders, midsection and cockroot with thick inked bands. Wrist and arm bands, thick and black. Oh, yeah, it's making me juice up just thinking about it. These two hairy big boys haven't been released since yesterday morning, and I can feel a nice thick load brewing. Jake, I'd make a cone with your fingers, it'll make it easier to make a fist once you've passed the pussy ring. Okay fuckface, open that pretty mouth of yours wide...