Tales of a Sissy Cuckold! By Tara Yarn (160 Pages) (Patreon)

Tales of a Sissy Cuckold!

By Tara Yarn

© 2019-2020 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to ​[email protected] 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

Tales of a Sissy Cuckold! 

By Tara Yarn  

Chapter One

If Jesse had known the consequences that would follow his actions he would not have spied on Tyrone that late Friday night. But he hadn’t known. And he had wanted revenge.

“You can’t skip school forever,” said his sister, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

He said nothing, rolling over so as to face away, sniffling.

She refused to give up. “What about the exam next week? And Natasha?”

Jesse twitched. “He’s... He’s planning something. I know he is.”

Emma sighed. He didn’t feel like telling her. Once, they had shared everything. But that was before she grew tits and an ass, and her popularity shot through the roof. She was no longer his little sister, the girl with whom he had shared his deepest secrets. Now she was simply one more woman who giggled behind his back and avoided him in the school hallways. There was a moment of silence. And then she spoke.

“Tell me what happened.”

There it is, t​ hought Jesse, frowning. ​There’s the truth in all of this. She’s not here to comfort me; she’s here for the gossip. She needs it. It’s like fuel for her friends.

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

She groaned. “You’re eighteen-years-old. You can’t skip school because you’re afraid of a bully. It’s your senior year in high school, Jesse. It’s about time you man up.”

“Man up?” He got up on his hands and knees and shot her a blank look. “Man up? Are you serious? He’s twice my size, Emma! What do you want me to do? Beat him up?”

She shrugged. “Stand up for yourself. That’s how you tame a bully.”

Snorting, Jesse rolled his eyes. “Yeah... You’d know.”

The way her face twisted swiftly made him realize he should not have said that. Without a word, Emma stood up and marched for the door. “Fine. I’m telling mom.”

Widening his eyes, Jesse leapt out of bed and dashed after her. She was halfway into the hallway by the time he reached her, grabbing the sleeve of her black top.

“Stop,” Jesse tried to turn her around. “Don’t tell her. Please.”

At first, she resisted, tried to pull away, then spun around with a groan, eyeing him over. She hadn’t yet taken off her stable wear; her black top riddled with horsehair; her beige breeches littered with hay and dark stains. Under normal circumstances, he’d never let her into his room like this; he didn’t want her on his bed, on his couch, or even on his carpet.

But these were no ordinary circumstances. He yanked her inside and shut the door.

“Fine.” She gathered her hair and put it up in a ponytail. “Tell me what happened.”

Sighing in defeat, Jesse collapsed on the mattress. She followed suit, taking a seat on the edge where she had sat a moment earlier. Sweeping his gaze through his room, his eyes fell upon a pink plushie with the shape of a teddy bear. It sat on his night table, clutching a red heart in its fluffy paws. Next to it lay a card on top of a heart-shaped box.

“It’s the fourteenth of February tomorrow,” said his sister, flashing a smile. “I know someone who’ll probably miss you if you don’t show up... C’mon. Tell me. I can help.”

Jesse huffed, eyeing the teddy bear. After a moment of hesitation, he began.

“It’s all because of Mark... He asked me if I wanted to go to the party...”

“Tonight is the night,” said Mark, unbuttoning a few buttons on his shirt and adjusting his wide-brimmed glasses. “Your sister isn’t coming, is she?”

Jesse kicked a pebble. It bounced along the sidewalk, coming to rest underneath the bright light of one of the light posts. “You’re an idiot. And besides, she won’t be there. She’s told everyone she’s preparing for her exam, but she’s really cuddling a teddy bear in bed smearing chocolate all over her sheets while watching​ Desperate Vampires​.”

Mark puffed up his chest. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”

“You really shouldn’t drink alcohol,” said Jesse, sighing loudly as his friend ran over to a nearby car and fixed his hair in the reflection of the front-seat window. “You clearly can’t handle it. James is going to kick us out if you keep acting this way.”

They carried on down the street. A few minutes later, they stood in the driveway of a house from which loud music blasted, loud voices roared and blue lights flickered.

Mark looked at Jesse, then the door, then Jesse. “Do we... Do we just go in?”

“It’s a house party. Of course we do.” Jesse, taking a couple of steps toward the front door, paused. He saw dancing shadows behind the curtains in the windows, bodies twisting to the rhythm of the music. He wondered if she was there, amongst those bodies.

They didn’t have to open the door. While they were still several paces away, it sprang open, and a green-faced woman ran out, cupping her lips with the palm of her hand. The moment she reached the lawn, she bent over and threw up. The sound was obscene.

Jesse grabbed Mark by the collar and went inside. The lights were off, the hallway so dark it was impossible to make out the faces of the four people who sat there. One of them, a big, broad-shouldered man, struggled to sit upright, swaying dangerously on a chair.

They headed into the kitchen. There were only a few people here; a couple he didn’t recognize was sharing spit by the counter while a scrawny-looking man with a thin beard lay flat on the floor, his pupils wide and his teeth bared in a state of constant grimacing.

The crowd had gathered in the living room, clearly the de facto dance floor. The lights were dimmed in there as well, and at first glance, Jesse didn’t spot a single familiar face.

Someone bounced into him from behind. Jesse flinched and spun on his heels, coming face to face with the person he had most wanted to find here. It was...

“Natasha.” Jesse blurted out her name, staring at her with wide eyes. Something wet trickled down the small of his back and into his pants. She held a glass, now half-empty.

“Sorry,” said Natasha, flashing him a sheepish smile. She wore a black leather jacket and a pair of tight jeans, staggering to and fro on a pair of high heels. She grabbed his arm, and he hurried to support her, desperately trying to come up with something to say.

The awkward silence didn’t seem to bother her whatsoever. Brushing a loose strand of pink hair out of her face, she leaned closer, fluttered her eyelashes and yelled.

“I didn’t think you liked parties like these!”

Mark, sloping his shoulders, a look of horror on his face, stood frozen to the spot and said nothing. It was not unexpected; his confidence had a tendency to evaporate around women. Jesse shrugged. “Mark... Mark asked me to come along!”

“Well, I am glad you came!” Natasha tore herself out of his grip and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing her frame into his, bathing him in the scent of her perfume. Jesse tensed, feeling her hip brush past his, sensing her breast squish into his arm. “It’s been boring so far! There hasn’t been a single fight! I wanna go home and play ​Battlegun Four​!”

She pulled down the zipper on her leather jacket, popping her cleavage free. Jesse swallowed, seeing her milky tits squeezed together in the confines of a sparkly pink top.

“I’ve... I’ve finished that!” retorted Jesse, but Natasha no longer paid attention, sweeping her gaze across the crowd in the living room. She held him by the shirt, her painted nails digging into the nape of his neck. Gritting his teeth, he endured the pain in silence.

They stood like that for at least five minutes before Natasha cocked her head back and spoke, her breath reeking of alcohol. “I... I wanna play paintball!”

“I’ll take you there sometime,” smiled Jesse. “I promised you that!”

“Good... Good.” She patted his chest and yanked herself free, staggering forward with her hands out to each side, disappearing into the crowd of swaying bodies.

Jesse shut his eyes and sniffed. Her scent lingered in the air.

Before he was able to down his drink, Mark dragged him outside for a cigarette. Jesse didn’t smoke - he hated the scent, and lung cancer terrified him - but as always, he agreed to keep his friend company, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

Mark lit his cigarette and put away his lighter. “So, Natasha...”

“Don’t,” retorted Jesse with a frown. His friend snickered.

“She’s really something, isn’t she? Those tits...”

“Shut up, Mark. You’ve never dared to say a word to her.”

“Well, I thought I would give you a chance first.”

“Everyone knows you’re a virgin...”

He trailed off. A man he knew stumbled out of the entrance with a girl in tow. He cast a glance at his surroundings, then yanked the giggling girl in the direction of the garage.

Jesse narrowed his eyes. “Was... Was that...”

“I’m so sorry, Jess. I didn’t know he was here.”

“That’s not the point,” Jesse waved his friend along. “C’mon.”

“We probably shouldn’t disturb him,” squeaked Mark, running up by his side and straightening his glasses. “We... We should leave him alone.”

“No, Mark. Don’t you get it? Didn’t you see the girl?”

“I did. And that’s precisely why we shouldn’t bother him.”

“You’re an idiot. The girl he’s with... That’s not Clara.”

The garage door had been left open. Giggling echoed through the little room. It was too dark to see anything. Jesse and Mark darted up to the hood of the car parked there.

“Don’t do it,” wheezed Mark. “It’s not worth it. Please don’t do it.”

Jesse bit his bottom lip. “Stay here.”

“No!” Mark reached out to grab him, but Jesse slipped past and crawled deeper into the garage. He pressed himself into the side of the BMW, staying down and out of sight. The couple had made their way to the back, kissing and moaning by the wall.

The girl who was not Clara was a flame-haired, short, pale woman wearing a dark, skin-tight dress with a plunging neckline. She had green eyes, freckles, and a beautiful smile. Jesse had never seen her before. But he knew the man who forced his tongue down her throat.

She tore off his shirt, revealing his muscles. He had bulky arms, a broad chest, thick shoulders and a rock-hard set of chiseled abs. The redhead trailed her fingers along his powerful jaw and gave his lips a soft kiss, digging her digits into his braids. He dipped a hand between her legs, grabbed the hem of her dress and tugged it up. A pitch-black hand delved between the milky white thighs, and the redhead rolled her eyes back with a stifled moan. Jesse had seen enough. He knew what to do. And he needed to do it fast.

“No.” Emma shook her head in disbelief. “Tell me you didn’t do that.”

Hugging his pillow to his chest, Jesse shrugged. “What was I supposed to do?”

“It was none of your business,” said his sister. “You should’ve left it alone.”

He scoffed and averted his eyes. They fell upon the pink bear once more, staring into its googly eyes. “Why are you defending him, Emma? Do you know what he did to me last week? No? That’s right, I don’t tell you everything. He shoved my head down the toilet!” “I’m not defending him, Jesse. I’m trying to defend you.”

“You just told me to stand up to him! You said that’s how I’d make it stop!”

“Well...” Emma pulled a face and bit her thumb.

“Great.” Jesse buried his face in the pillow. “Fantastic!”

“Look.” She shuffled closer, lifting his chin with a finger and staring deep into his eyes. “What you are going to do now is simple: find Clara, and tell her that you saw someone else. It’s an easy mistake to make; you’re white, he’s black. And it was dark in the garage.” Pouting his lips, Jesse lowered his eyes. “Well...”

It was surprisingly easy to find Clara.

Perched atop a table, the voluptuous blonde swung her hips and shook her chest to the cheers of the crowd gathered around her. There was another woman dancing next to her; a thin brunette who could barely stay on her feet. In the darkness of the living room, they might as well have been wearing identical dresses; both were dark and revealed a lot of skin.

Ignoring the cries of his friend, Jesse threw himself at the wall of people, squeezing himself through the crowd and towards the table. His hand brushed across an ass; his shoulder past a pair of boobs. An elbow struck him in the side of the head. Swearing, he pushed on.

“Clara!” The cheering crowd drowned out his voice. “Clara! I have to talk to you!”

The blonde saw him, taking a swig from the bottle she was waving around high in the air. “Is that guy talking to me? Jenny, look! He’s screaming my name! Who is he?”

“I have to talk to you!” Jesse pointed past the crowd. “Outside!”

A high heel dug into his chest. Jesse looked up and saw the thin brunette glaring down at him, then stumbled backward as she gave him a sharp kick, knocking him over.

“Go away, loser! She doesn’t wanna talk to you!”

Asses. Crotches. Everywhere.

Jesse struggled to find his feet, shoving to the side a woman dancing in front of his face. His tailbone hurt, and he had fallen into something sticky. With renewed vigor, he forced his way up to the table and poked Clara on a bare ankle. She flinched, raising her bottle to strike. Jesse widened his eyes. “No! Wait! It’s about Tyrone!”

For a fleeting moment, Jesse expected her to hurl the bottle at his face. But then the blonde sat down with an angry groan, reeling off the table. He tried to help her, but she slapped his hands away and gave him the bottle to hold instead.

“What... What about him?”

“I’ll show you.”

“What? Speak up!”

“I’ll show you! C’mon!”

They broke free from the crowd. The thin brunette kept dancing on the table, oblivious to the disappearance of her friend. She bent over, put her hands up her dress and yanked down a grey thong, wielding the used panties like a weapon and firing it off into the crowd.

Mark caught up with them on the lawn, his glasses white with fog. He parted his lips to speak but Jesse motioned for him to be quiet. And, for the first time in his life, Mark obeyed.

They marched through the grass. Clara stumbled several times, forcing Jesse to catch her and lead her onwards. She smelled nothing like Natasha; her perfume stung his nose, and the scent of booze and cigarettes dogged her footsteps. He led her to the garage, put a finger on his lips, then nodded at the dark. She tottered over and squinted inside.

This is a bad idea, w​ hispered a voice in the back of his head. ​A very bad idea.

A constant stream of moans erupted out from the dark. The sound of steady thrusts echoed from inside. The blonde, searching by the corner, found the light switch.

A shrill scream cut the air. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh ceased. Clara, splitting her lips in a loud gasp, stumbled backward and fell on her ass on the asphalt.

“Run,” said Mark, tugging on his sleeve. “Jesse! We have to run! Now!”

Tyrone ran out of the garage, rushing over to help his girlfriend up with his trousers around his ankles. Jesse heard the deep voice try to explain, but the blonde on the ground pointed to the massive tent on his crotch and screamed in anger. The short, pale redhead sashayed out of the garage, her dress wrapped around her frame like a towel.

Clara struggled to her feet and tore herself out of his grasp. She spun on her heels, but her half-naked boyfriend grabbed her by an arm and went to whisper something in her ear.

The blonde clenched her fist and planted it squarely in his face.

“You’re cheating on me! Fuck off!”

She escaped his grip and stormed off. The redhead rushed up by his side and tried to embrace him, but he pushed her out of the way and grabbed his nose.

Blood trickled out from between his fingers.

Mark let Jesse go, turned on his heels and ran away. He wanted to do the same, but his feet were glued to the ground. The black man held up his hand to the moon, watched the blood drip from his palm, then slowly turned his head to look in Jesse’s direction.

Whimpering, Jesse spun on his heels and ran away.

“Okay.” Emma stared out at nothing in particular. “All right.”

Gnawing on the tip of his thumb, Jesse watched her think. Without a word, his sister stood up, leaving a thin, ass-shaped patch of horse hair on the white mattress.

“What are you...” Jesse crawled up on all fours. “Where are you going?”

Emma shrugged, heading for the door. “The shower. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“But...” He swore, tumbled out of the bed, found his feet and ran to catch up. He reached her just before she closed the door to the bathroom. “You... You said you’d help me, Emma!” She caught her lip between her teeth. “Awh, Jesse.”

“That’s... That’s what you said! You promised!”

She gave a soft sigh. “I don’t think I can.”

His sister tried to shut the door. Jesse, staring at her with wide eyes, shook his head and held it open. Rolling her eyes, she threw open the door instead and stepped aside.

“Do you want to come in with me?”

“No, I...” Jesse rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. “What do you mean, ‘you don’t think you can’, Emma? Maybe... Maybe you could talk to him?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Uhm... No, I don’t know him. Sorry.”

“Emma! You said you’d help me if I told you!”

The door slammed shut in his face. Jesse flinched, took a step back and pounded his fist against the frame. A moment later, water sprouted out of the shower inside.

“You’re fucked, Jesse,” his sister cried out. “I’m sorry, but you are!”

He didn’t need his sister to tell him that.

He already knew he was.

Chapter Two

Jesse hadn’t slept that night.

He had spent the last eight hours writhing in bed. Whenever he had shut his eyes, he had seen Tyrone staring him down. And the look on his face had kept sleep away.

The hallway brimmed with students. They searched their lockers, conversed with their peers, ran to their classrooms. He saw many faces in the hallway.

But not the face that had kept him up all night.

The cold morning air had stayed his drowsiness, but as he entered the warmth of his classroom, an unbearable desire to fall asleep hit him like a brick. A numb sensation spread through his whole body. His eyelids felt heavy. He struggled to keep his eyes open.

His classmates found their seats. Natasha was already there, combing through her pink hair while eyeing herself in a handheld mirror. The leather jacket she had worn to the party lay slung over the back of her chair, covering the backpack beneath her seat. She wore a sleeveless white top, the fabric transparent and flashing the pink bra hugging her tits.

He walked over, put down his backpack and took a seat. She didn’t deign him as much as a glance, splitting her attention between the mirror and a stack of papers on her desk. Her perfume wafted his way; Jesse turned slightly away and sniffed the air subtly.

“Good morning,” said Miss Parkinson, sashaying into the classroom. As always, she wore a slim tuxedo jacket, a short skirt with white stripes and a pair of dark stockings. She put down her coffee mug, dropped her bottom into a chair and perched her heels atop her desk.

Natasha put the mirror down and rearranged the stack of papers with a soft sigh.

“Last week,” continued Miss Parkinson, biting her thumb and kicking off her shoes, “Erik showed us his work. Today we’ll continue with... Natasha? Are you ready?”

“Good luck,” whispered Jesse. The girl by his side stood up without a word and brought her papers to the front of the classroom. She swayed her hips with every step; her ass really filled out her tight jeans, wobbling and quivering as her heels clanked over the floor.

Miss Parkinson folded her hands on her tummy. “Let us see what you’ve drawn.”

Natasha stepped in front of the chalkboard and cleared her throat, sifting through the stack of papers. Brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face, she flipped the first drawing.

“An elf,” said Natasha. In the back of the classroom, one of the boys whistled.

“Very good.” Miss Parkinson cocked an eyebrow. “Though you’d think she’d get cold.”

The drawing resembled something straight out of a fantasy novel. It wasn’t just good; Jesse thought it was the best drawing he had ever seen. He stared at it in awe.

She flipped another, showing off a three-headed beast dripping blood out of thousands of little holes, its dagger-like teeth bared in a fierce roar. “A monster... Obviously.”

“That’s a stunning drawing, Tash,” smiled Miss Wilkinson. Stifling a yawn, Jesse looked at Mark who, at the far side of the classroom, sat upright and was paying close attention. Natasha presented the final paper. A series of gasps echoed through the room. Jesse twitched and sat up; he could barely believe what he was seeing.

The last drawing depicted a cock. It was no ordinary cock, but a thick, veiny dick with short, horizontal lines drawn to represent throbbing. It didn’t stop at the base; the drawing also rendered a very realistic set of fat balls pulsating in a leathery, hairy sack. She had even put effort into the pubes, curling, and twisting, some of them extending beyond the paper.

“A dick,” said Natasha with a blank face void of emotion. Miss Parkinson spat out her coffee, swore and hurried to reach for a napkin, trying to wipe away the stains on her jacket.

“Thank you, Natasha. The last one was... Interesting.”

The classroom buzzed with giggling and whispering by the time Natasha found her seat. She didn’t seem to care, placing the papers down on her desk, leaving the dick on top. Jesse looked at her and forced forth a smile, but she never cast a glance in his direction.

“All right.” Miss Parkinson threw the used napkin in the trash. “Joey. Come on up.”

Jesse put his face in his palms and felt a sudden rush of languor. He blinked, fighting to stay awake, tossing the drawing of the dick a glance through a gap between his fingers. It was a monster of a cock, long and girthy. If that was the sort of cock she liked...

He shook his head, driving the thought away. Then he tried to pay attention to Joey, staring intently at the moving mole above the upper lip of his short, fat, classmate.

That’s one ugly beauty mark, ​he thought. ​Almost as ugly as his drawings.

His face collapsed into his palms. He battled the sweet lure of sleep.

A white hallway. A white door. A white stick-figurine on the door.

It slid open with a creak, revealing the interior of a white restroom.

A woman. Bent over in front of a mirror. Wearing a leather jacket.

Jesse stepped inside, looking around. He looked to the right and saw three doors, leading to three toilets. It was pointless to try and open them. He knew they wouldn’t budge.

The woman drew his attention. Did she just moan?

She combed through her hair, then put the pink locks up in a ponytail. As soon as she was done, she rummaged through her white purse, taking out a white, cylinder-shaped container. He eyed her over. And split his lips in a gasp.

Beneath the hem of her dark, leather jacket, she wore nothing. Her supple ass pointed his way, the two pale moons sparkling underneath the bright, white overhead light.

Wide hips. Thick thighs. Plump buttocks. Did she just giggle?

He sank to the floor, dropped on all fours. She threw him a look over her shoulder, her lips sparkling with pink gloss. The girl smiled, grinned, giggled, turned away.

He crawled over the tiles. The door shut in the background. It took him ages to reach her; an invisible force held him back. When he finally did, he took a seat beneath her thick rump.

It was a bubble butt. The shape was perfect. It was soft to the touch. He groaned.

She shook it, wobbling her perky buttcheeks. They clapped in front of his face. A dark spot lit up between them. It called to him, lured him closer. He put his hands on her ass and spread her cheeks, shuddering as the brown eye greeted him with a twitch. It looked so out of place between those milky buttocks. He wanted to sniff it. He needed to know how it tasted.

She drew away. He whimpered and looked up.

“You have to beg,” she said, running a hand through his hair. He shut his eyes, pressed his forehead into her palm, purred in response to her touch.

“Please,” he whispered. “I want to worship you. Please.”

“Kiss my ass, then.” She spread her butt. “Loser.”

“Thank you!” He delved between her buttocks. “Thank you so much!”

The woman pushed back, pressing her rump into his face. The softness of her ass enveloped his nose. He breathed in greedily, dragging the strong, musky scent up his nostrils. She gave a peal of laughter. He didn’t care, grabbed her hips and kept sniffing her butt. She shook her hips, her heavy buttocks smacking his face back and forth.

Parting his lips, he stuck out his tongue and sought for her butthole. When he found it, he trailed the tip of his tongue in a long, slow circle around the rim, then flattened his lips against sphincter and moaned. She gave a giggle and pushed back her hips. The buttocks slid out of her fingers, clamping down on his face, smothering him in softness.

He explored her wrinkles with his tongue, then planted the tip in the middle of the puffy pucker and thrust his face deeper into her rump, driving his tongue up her butthole. A moan escaped her lips. He could feel her move, feel her arch her back, feel her grip the sink. His tongue slid out of her brown eye with a sloppy pop. It winked at him. It begged for more. “You’re only good for kissing my ass,” giggled the woman. He uttered a shaky sigh, nodded into her ass, pursed his lips and gave her a loving kiss. “That’s right. Good boy.”

He reached between his legs. His pants weren’t there. Had he even put them on?

Digging his tongue up her butthole, he shivered as her asshole spasmed and clenched. It fought him, resisted him, tried to pop him out. The taste of her ass forced him into paralyzing submission; he couldn’t stop, pulling out his tongue to give her asshole a long, shaky lick. Her butt left his face. A rope of saliva connected his lips to her ass.

“I want you to fuck me,” said the woman, staring down at him with a sly smile. “Put it in my ass, Jesse. I’ve always wanted you to buttfuck me. Please.”

Grabbing her by the hips, he staggered to his feet. She bent over once more, sticking out her rump and giving it a shake. Her buttocks spilled out from between his fingers as he took a step closer, spreading them to reveal her pucker. It blinked at him, wet with spit.

“I love you,” said Jesse, wrapping a hand around his cock, steering it at the target. She moaned in response, her green eyes looking up at him dreamily.

He guided his cock between her asscheeks, flattened her rump with his hips.

It didn’t reach her butthole. He was too small.

“Fuck me, Jesse,” pleaded Natasha, biting her plump lip. “Fuck my ass.”

“No,” Jesse widened his eyes, pressing into her asscheeks, trying to reach her pucker. The buttocks kept him at bay; they were too thick. And he was too short.

She giggled mockingly. “Is my booty too much for you, little boy?”

“No... Please!” Jesse thrust forward, slapping his pelvis into her ass. He pried them to each side, humped her from behind, stuck out his cock and then stretched it with his hand. “You’re too small for me, Jesse.” She wiggled her hips. “You’re such a loser.”

“No!” He kept shaking his head, grabbing his dick with both hands, trying to pull it out and make it longer. “No! I’m in love with you, Natasha! I’d do anything for you!”

“You’re too small.” She rolled her eyes and yawned. “You’re pathetic.”

“No!”

Jesse woke up with a flinch.

There was not a soul left in the classroom. Incessant chatter could be heard in the hallway outside. The clock over the door showed five-to-twelve. It was noon already.

He swept his gaze through the room. Not a single backpack remained.

And then he remembered.

Shit, ​thought Jesse, leaping out of his chair. ​It’s a short day today! Shit!

Leaving his backpack behind, he ran out the door and looked around quickly. Most of his classmates were still there, attending to their lockers and chatting with their friends. The top of a black, shaved head could be faintly made out in the far end of the hallway.

A chill crept up his spine. Natasha was probably not over there anyway.

Dashing over to his locker, he threw it open and grabbed the bag he had left there that morning. It was a neat, black plastic bag, shut on the top with a red ribbon. He was on his way to the front entrance when Mark popped out from behind a corner, adjusting his glasses with a little wave. He parted his lips to say something but paused upon seeing the bag.

They shared a glance. His friend smiled.

“Good luck,” said Mark, stepping aside.

Taking a deep breath, Jesse nodded and ran outside.

The sun was at its zenith when he burst out the front door, looking around. It cast its bright rays on the parking lot and the white marble that made up the steps leading down to it. A pathway followed the front wall of the school, decorated on each side with rows of bushes. A variety of students - all eager to go home - poured out of the entrances; some heading for their cars down at the lot; others went for their bikes or set off on foot. He saw many familiar faces, but not the one he wanted to see, nor the one he’d rather avoid.

She’s gone home, t​ hought Jesse, sitting down on a nearby ledge. ​I didn’t make it. Off she went, and now I will never dare to try again. That’s it. It’s over.

A group of women passed him by, laughing hysterically. He watched them leave, watched their asses sway. ​She was my only chance. And now I am going to graduate a virgin.

He got up and turned around. Looked at his bag, then a nearby trash can. His throat tightened as he hoisted up the bag and walked over. His lip trembled.

A head of pink hair soared past in the corner of his eye. A dark leather jacket was flung over a shoulder. A plump butt quivered on the walkway. Jesse widened his eyes.

“Natasha! Shit... Natasha! Wait! Hold up! Just... Hold up!”

She froze to the spot, pink lips parting. A touch of terror flashed across her face as he ran at her; for a moment, he thought she’d turn and run away. He slowed to a walk, blushing.

“Hi,” said Jesse, hauling along the plastic bag. “I... I was looking for you.”

“Yeah.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I figured.”

Clearing his throat, Jesse dropped his gaze and tried to come up with something to say. It was a miracle that he had caught her alone. A cloud of friends usually surrounded her.

“So... Did you want something, or...”

Jesse felt his face flush with heat. The sun shone on her breasts, squished together and threatening to pop out of her top. The gloss on her nails glistened in the bright light.

“Yeah, uhm... I was wondering if you’d maybe...”

Natasha narrowed her eyes. “Could you maybe complete the sentence?”

“Yeah.” Jesse rubbed his face with the palm of his hand. He sought for words but found none. And then he gave up, hoisting up the plastic bag and offering it out.

She looked a little taken back. “Is... Is that for me?”

He nodded.

The look on her face when she took it made him realize she had forgotten what day it was. It dawned upon her as she was untying the red ribbon. Suddenly she looked tense.

“Here,” said Jesse and fell to a knee. His fingers found the ribbon, fought with it for a moment, then managed to untie it. Their fingers touched. Jesse shuddered.

“Stand up, or people are going to think you’re proposing to me.”

He obeyed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, his gaze glued to the ground. He saw her shadow on the white marble, saw it bend over and peer into the bag.

“Owh,” said Natasha. The shadow looked up. “I... I don’t know what to say.”

“Maybe,” Jesse cringed. “Maybe you’d like to go out with me someday?”

He forced himself to look up and found her gnawing on her lip. She said nothing, wrapping her arms around her tummy while her huge, green eyes studied him closely.

Jesse shrugged, grinned, grabbed the bag. “It was just a thought.”

“Wait.” Her fingers dug into the plastic. “I didn’t say you should take that.”

Swearing under his breath, he hurried to release the present and straightened up. An awkward snicker was all he could muster. She rolled her eyes.

“You’ve not done this before, have you?”

“Well, I... I did have a girlfriend when I was younger.”

“No.” She flashed a warm smile. “You didn’t.”

Jesse shut his eyes, pulled a face and fell silent. Every word coming out of his mouth sounded stupid. And on top of that, he was lying to her. He split his lips.

A finger fell on them before he could utter a word. Natasha shook her head, a coy smile lingering on her plump kissers. “Shut up. I’ll let you take me out, Jesse.”

Jesse widened his eyes, staring into her green ones.

“What about,” she continued, “paintball? Tomorrow?”

He nodded.

“Great.” Natasha withdrew her finger from his lips and hoisted up his gift. “I’ll bring a few friends. Not a lot. Just a few. It’ll be easier for you as well. I promise.”

“All... All right. When can I pick you guys up?”

“Ooh.” She fluttered her eyelashes. “So you have a car?”

“No, but,” Jesse winced, scratching his neck. “My... My mom does.”

“It’s fine, Jesse,” giggled Natasha. “We’ll meet you there.”

“Uhm, all right. Does... Does four o’clock work for you?”

She grinned. “Four o’clock is perfect.”

Forcing forth a sheepish smile, Jesse nodded. They shared a silent glance, but he only lasted a few seconds before he looked away. She giggled again; her voice soft, feminine and dripping with sweetness. Her shadow spun, and by the time he dared to look up, she was walking down the pathway, her hips swaying and her ass wobbling with every step.

If only he had known who she was planning on bringing.

Chapter Three

By the time he arrived, Natasha was already there.

A woman stood next to her, waving her hands dramatically. Crimson hair cascaded all the way down to the small of her back. Milky skin glistened in the orange afternoon sun. Jesse slammed on the breaks. He had seen her before.

They were chatting in the parking lot. A stone throw away lay a cabin. The door was open, held up by a thin chain, and a sign at the back of it depicted an arrow pointing inside. Another sign, attached to the wall over the door, read: ​Kemsworth Paintball Club.

Behind it, miles upon miles of forest stretched for as far as the eye could see. A tall fence separated the woods from the parking lot. Most of the trees were stained with paint.

The two women looked up, hearing him arrive. Natasha beamed and waved. Her friend crossed her arms over her chest and watched. Jesse pulled his BMW up on the gravel in front of the cabin, took a deep breath, then left his car. His date walked over, dragging along her hesitant friend. Her delicious perfume washed over him as she split her arms wide and went in for an embrace. With no idea where to put his hands, Jesse hugged her awkwardly.

“Hi,” purred Natasha, tightening her grip. “I’m so excited. We’re gonna have so much fun.” “H- Hey,” stammered Jesse, clearing his throat as she broke the hug. Her leather jacket was nowhere to be seen; the weather was warm today, and she had only put on a loose, grey hoodie and a pair of dark sweats. Jesse, who knew paint rarely came out in the washer, had also put on a pair of sweats, but his were stained with old spots and paint and riddled with holes. She didn’t seem to mind, but a part of him wished he had worn something better.

“This is Sandra,” said Natasha, stepping out of the way to introduce her friend.

Jesse, who until that point had only known her as Not Clara, extended his hand. The redhead shook it, loosely and without eye contact, tossing her hair and turning up her nose.

“Right.” Jesse hurried to look at his date. “So... Is it just the three of us? It’s... It’s not a problem, but... There are usually teams of two-and-two, or you know...”

The roar of an engine cut him short. Natasha, smiling casually, leaned sideways and glanced past him. Spinning on his heels, he followed her gaze. And felt his heart drop.

A black truck raced into the parking lot. The driver pulled up next to the BMW, shut off the sputtering engine and stepped out, slamming the door shut. Jesse frowned.

“Tyrone!” The flame-haired girl ran over, throwing herself into his bulky arms. He scooped her up with ease and walked over with a sleazy smile. The shoes of his lover - white sneakers with dirty soles - swung past Jesse’s face and forced him to step back.

“And this is her boyfriend,” said Natasha, giggling at the couple. “I said she could bring a plus one, and she told me Tyrone is a killer at paintball. Isn’t that right?”

“Damn straight.” The black man put his girlfriend down and gave Natasha his hand. After she shook it, he turned to Jesse. His smile widened as they looked at each other.

“We already know each other,” continued Tyrone. His hand was gigantic. Jesse tried to shake it and realized he couldn’t wrap his fingers around his palm. The girls were looking at them. Jesse retracted his hand quickly, cleared his throat and forced forth a smile.

“Yeah.” He backed up towards the cabin. “I’ll just get the equipment so we can get started. It shouldn’t... It shouldn’t take too long. Do... Do you want a drink, Nat- Natasha?”

His date shot him a friendly smile, shook her head and resumed the ongoing conversation with her friend. With a nod, Jesse headed for the cabin. A voice froze him to the spot. “Actually,” said Tyrone. “You can get me a coke.”

The girls fell silent. He felt eyes on his back. He threw his schoolmate a glance, nodded quickly and tried to dart inside. But the black man stopped him short once more.

“And none of that diet coke bullshit,” he continued. “If you come out with a diet coke, I’mma put you over my knee and swat that white booty red.”

Natasha and Sandra shared a glance, split their lips in surprise and burst into a fit of giggles. Jesse stuttered, tried to think of a snappy comeback, then blushed and fled inside. When he reached the desk, he saw his date hit Tyrone on the arm in a playful fashion, pointing a strict finger in his face. Jesse thought she stood far too close to his massive frame.

“Veronica.” He tapped the desk twice. “I need to talk to you.”

No one sat behind the counter. Guns, masks, and various accessories adorned the wall behind the desk. A doorway in the middle of it led to the back of the cabin, out from which came a thin woman with short, fuzzy hair, black rings around her eyes, a pair of skulls dangling from her ears, wearing a tight, black T and baggy, black trousers. She wore headphones, taking one out as she reached the desk, narrowing her eyes.

“It’s not your shift today, boy toy.”

“I know.” Jesse nodded at the window. “I was wondering if we could use the field. I checked the calendar: no one booked it for today. And we’ll only stay for a few hours.”

The goth girl stared at him blankly. “No.”

“What, but... No one is using the field today. I checked.”

“Well.” Veronica shrugged casually. “Boss doesn’t like it.”

“Since... Since when?”

“Wednesday. Dan took a group out on the field. Broke three guns. Boss threatened to take it out of his pay. She gave in when he begged, but... No more field for us.”

“No.” Jesse shook his head. “No, that’s... Veronica, I have a date!”

The goth girl pursed her lips and blew out a fart noise. “Don’t care.”

Jesse shook his head in disbelief and uttered a deep sigh. “All right. Look... I’ve talked to Theresa a few days ago. She said she’d be out of town this week. So, we’ll borrow the field today. I’ll clean up after us, we won’t leave a mark, I will take full responsibility if anything should break. I promise. She won’t even know we’ve been here. How about that?”

She rolled her eyes. “If you don’t pay, you don’t play.”

“Come on!” Jesse groaned. “I’m asking you for a favor.”

“And I really don’t understand why I should help you,” said Veronica, crossing her arms and taking a seat on the counter. “Your sister is a bitch. The girl you’ve brought here is a bitch. I don’t particularly like you. I actually think you’re a bit of a creep.”

He put his elbows on the desk and his face in his palms. “Fine. All right, Veronica. The next time you ask me to cover your shift, I’ll say yes no matter what. I swear.”

She cocked an eyebrow, casting a glance through the window. “Oh my. You’re really trying to please this girl, aren’t you? That must suck. She’s not going to date you, you know?” “Yeah?” Jesse looked up from his palms. “And how would you know?”

“C’mon.” Veronica smirked. “You’re a loser. And despite that aura of arrogance and bitchy attitude dogging her footsteps wherever she goes, she’s still, well... Hot.”

He frowned. “You don’t know anything.”

She shrugged. “Your black friend sure is making her laugh out there.”

With a jerk, he straightened up and peered through the window. His date was grinning, her attention glued to Tyrone, who was evidently telling the girls a story. After a moment of hesitation, Jesse growled and reached for his wallet. Taking out a couple of bills, he threw them on the counter. Veronica counted through the money and snorted.

“That’s not even half.”

“That’s what I owe you. I work here, Veronica! I get a discount!”

“Your friends don’t work here.” The goth girl smirked. “They’re full price.”

Taking a deep breath, Jesse shut his eyes. “I’m paying for everyone.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’ll still have to pay three full prices.”

Clenching his fists, Jesse glanced through the window. The short redhead was embracing her boyfriend, their lips mashed together, their tongues twirling and touching. Natasha looked a little out of place and kept casting quick looks at the kissing couple. There was something in her eyes; for a moment, Jesse thought he saw a hint of jealousy.

“All right,” he said, tearing his card out of his wallet. Veronica flashed him the brightest smile she could muster, took it and arranged the payment. It went through; Jesse cringed. “There we go.” She handed him back his card. “I’ll be out in a second.”

“Yeah,” muttered Jesse, stuffing his wallet into his pocket with a deep sigh. He was about to head back outside when he suddenly froze. “Actually... I’ll need a coke too.”

Tyrone ruffled his hair.

Jesse withdrew with a frown and watched his schoolmate tear up the can and down half of it in one go. He waited for the black man to take out his wallet. He never did.

“Okay. Gather around,” said Veronica, dragging her feet over the gravel. Natasha and Sandra darted over; Tyrone and Jesse completed the circle a moment later.

“We’ll have to split you into teams of two,” continued Veronica. She held four straws in her left hand, their length hidden in her palm. She held it out at Sandra first. The redhead didn’t reach for a straw, narrowing her eyes and looking at Tyrone apprehensively.

“Actually,” began Jesse, “we can split ourselves up...”

Natasha cut him off. She sprang over and drew a straw. “Oooh, I got a long one!”

“Well,” said Sandra, frowning. “We’re sort of two teams already, so...”

Tyrone leaned over his girlfriend and also drew a straw. He held it up, looked it over, put it between his teeth and grinned at Natasha. “Looks like we’re teaming up.”

Jesse scoffed. “But... These are not the teams we’ve been planning...”

“Right.” Veronica dropped the last two on the gravel; they were short. “Now that we’ve got our teams sorted out, it’s time we went over some rules. Rule number one: Never...”

“... take your mask off.” Jesse scowled at Sandra.

She paid him no attention, applying lipstick with the help of a handheld mirror. Her mask lay on the ground by her side, supporting her gun and the yet unattached magazine.

Stifling a groan, he wandered over, grabbed her gun and inserted the magazine. Then he put it down by her feet and stepped back, scouting their surroundings. “Are you listening to me?”

“Nope.” She put the cylinder in her pocket and stood up, grabbing her rifle. “And the next time you try to rush me, I will put a bullet in your balls.”

The field was scattered with natural terrain, providing plenty of cover. They had moved to the left of the map before the game began; Tyrone and Natasha had moved to the right. The area in which they were now playing had a radius of about one kilometer. The objective was simple: reach the middle and capture the flag. Take as much time as you want.

Jesse put his marker against a shoulder and ran up behind a rock. He gestured for Sandra to surpass him; she never did. He turned around with a sigh and found the redhead sauntering over the wooden floor, dragging her gun along the ground.

He waved her over. She flashed him her middle finger.

“All right.” He nodded and carried on, dashing through dry branches and small twigs, paving way for the sour ginger seething at his heels. In truth, he also hated these teams; the thought of Natasha - his date - alone with Tyrone was becoming unbearable.

All the more incentive to capture the flag, t​ hought Jesse, slowly approaching a ditch. He had played this field many times and knew that ditch was a popular spot for the enemy team. He drove the marker into his shoulder, held his breath, then jumped the ditch.

There was no one there. It was empty.

“I can’t believe he picked her,” said Sandra. “He totally did that on purpose.”

Jesse rolled his eyes. “Maybe he just drew a straw so we could start the game.”

She stopped abruptly. “He drew the long one. The same straw she drew.”

“Well.” He shrugged. “He couldn’t know which one was short.”

“The teams were decided.” The redhead paused, staring at the ditch, slowly descending and grimacing as she was forced to step in mud. “And now I am stuck with you. Gah!”

With a sigh, he reached out to help her. She ignored him and crawled out of the pit on her own, looking around with her finger on the trigger.

A branch broke some fifty paces away. They froze.

“It’s... It’s probably just a wolf,” said Sandra.

Jesse, slowly looking down at the redhead on her knees, felt his eye twitch. He refrained from making a comment, raised his gun and advanced, one step at a time.

There was something in the forest. ​It might be a bird, ​thought Jesse, falling to his knees and crawling over on all fours to a rotten tree trunk. Sucking in a sharp breath, he aimed.

In the background, Sandra burst through the woods, tearing branches and knocking over stones. The ruckus drove up a dove from a nearby pine tree. It threw itself to the skies and disappeared with an annoyed squeak. Jesse fell at ease and adjusted his mask.

“It’d be really nice of you if you could at least try to be quiet.”

“I don’t care about this stupid game.” Sandra kicked a branch out of the way, marching up to the tree trunk and taking a seat. “Right now, my boyfriend is alone in the woods somewhere with another woman. You know, the moment I see her, I am going to shoot her full of...” Jesse never heard what Sandra was going to pump Natasha full of. A thought struck him as he lay there, looking up at the redhead. She also wore a hoodie, grey and loose just like the one his date wore. But there was one difference. No boobs strained Sandra’s sweater.

“... and when we were going to the prom, I kid you not, she stole my date, and...”

Jesse leapt to his feet. “Shit! We have to find them! Come on!”

The redhead fell silent, looking at him with eyes wide from surprise. Jesse had no desire to explain to Sandra that she, in fact, had no tits and that Natasha knocked her out of the ballpark with her massive ones. Instead, he grabbed her and yanked her along.

They ran through the thick forest, ducking under branches and maneuvering around lumps of rock. After a few minutes, they reached a clearing. In the middle stood a flag.

“Lay down,” said Jesse, and proceeded to do it. The redhead kept standing.

“I’ve like, no idea, why Natasha wanted to go out with you. I know her, and you’re really not her type. Besides, boys don’t give girls valentine presents anymore. That’s so creepy.” “Yeah...” Jesse swept his gaze over the wall of trees surrounding the clearing. With his finger on the trigger, he crawled closer. A bullet might fly his way any moment now. “Natasha fact number one,” said Sandra, stepping over and standing in plain sight. “She’s a vegan, but she only stopped eating meat when her mother bought her a rabbit.”

“All right,” said Jesse. “You might want to lay down, Sandra...”

“Natasha fact number two: Natasha shows off her tits on webcam so boys fall for her, but that’s only because she likes the attention. She doesn’t date losers.”

“Lay down, Sandra,” drawled Jesse. He clenched a fist.

“Natasha fact number three: Natasha was bullied in middle school because she thought she was a witch. She’d go into the woods late at night, wearing a pentagram, chanting at the moon. I’m not even kidding. She’s so weird... But you’re still too weird for her.”

Natasha fact number four was promptly cut off by the sound of a shot followed by a blue paintball splattering against the trunk of a nearby tree.

Sandra let loose a heart-wrenching scream and threw herself to the ground.

The shot had come from across the clearing. A moment later, a voluptuous woman in a mask and a grey hoodie nonchalantly made her way out into the open, her gun tucked against her shoulder as if she had played this game a hundred times before.

Jesse shut an eye and looked into his scope. He aimed at her chest.

He never fired a shot.

She kept wandering over the field, heading for the flag. In the background, Sandra gasped and staggered to her feet. For a moment, he thought she’d let her friend win.

Raising her gun, the flame-haired girl screamed from the bottom of her lungs and dashed into the open. Before Natasha had a chance to react, a swarm of paintballs splattered at the ground around her feet. His date flinched suddenly, looked down, saw the paint streaming down her ankle. A furious war cry later, she stumbled across the clearing, firing freely at the redhead on her heels. They disappeared into the woods, each girl trying to scream louder than the other. Jesse, crawling up on his hands and knees, shouted shrilly.

“It’s... It’s just one hit, guys! G- Guys? Nat- Natasha is out!”

By now, the two girls were flinging insults at each other deep in the forest on the other side of the clearing. They were so far away, Jesse could no longer make out what they said.

An eerie silence fell upon the woods. A gentle breeze fluttered the leaves overhead.

A twig snapped behind him. Jesse spun around and raised his gun.

A powerful hand tore the marker out of his grip and threw it away. Jesse was staring into the barrel of a rifle. It was inches away from his face, and behind it loomed Tyrone.

“Hey, white boy,” said the black man with a nasty smile. “I know what you did.”

Chapter Four

Jesse gulped.

“You ratted me out,” continued Tyrone, lowering the barrel of his marker. Jesse watched with wide eyes as it fell, then gasped as the tip sank into his crotch. “What were you gon’ do? Did you think I’d let you get away with it? Shrug it off and forget about it?”

“It... It wasn’t on purpose, T- Tyrone...”

“Take off your mask.”

He hesitated. The barrel flattened his balls against the ground. The black man held his finger on the trigger. Grabbing his mask with a whimper, Jesse tore it off and threw it away. “Please... Please don’t shoot.”

Tyrone scoffed. Dropping his rifle, he rose and arched his back. A crack sounded as he stretched. “You cost me my girlfriend, white boy. And now I ain’t got no bitch.”

“You’ve... You’ve got Sandra.”

“Nah,” Tyrone shook his head, grabbing his belt buckle and undoing it. “She ain’t what I want. She wants a boyfriend. I’m just looking for someone to suck my dick.”

“Well, I...” Jesse trailed off upon seeing Tyrone reach for his zipper and take a couple of steps forward. The black man casually unzipped his trousers and went to pull them down. “What... What are you doing?! I’m... I’m not doing that!”

“A’ight, white boy. I had a bitch to suck my dick, and I don’t. I’ve got no time for possessive hoes thinking I’mma only sleep with them. So... You gon’ have to do.”

Tyrone stepped closer, hooking his thumbs into his underwear and slowly sliding them down his hips along with his pants, towering over Jesse with one foot on each side of him.

“You... You can’t possibly be serious. This... This is crazy.”

“Listen, bitch boy. I’mma make this real easy for you. I’mma pull my pants down and put my dick on your face. And I ain’t gon’ pull them up before you’ve emptied my balls. Now when those bitches are done with their little catfight, they’re gon’ come back here. And if my balls ain’t dry when they do, they gon’ see me rubbing my dick all over your pretty face.”

“P- Please, Tyrone... I know we’ve had our differences, but...”

Tyrone cut him off, yanking his pants down to his knees. Parting his lips in a gasp, Jesse narrowly avoided the black dick that flew out of his trousers, soaring through the air before smacking into a hairy thigh. He gawked; the cock was huge. Thick veins ran along a shaft so girthy it rivaled his wrist. The pink mushroom-shaped head stood in stark contrast to the pitch-black skin glistening in the light of the sun. An untrimmed forest of pubic hair hid the base; they were short and curly, intertwined with each other, leading down to a pair of fat, hairy, leathery balls hanging low between his tree trunk thighs. It was a terrifying sight. “Bet your white ass has never seen a dick like this before,” snickered Tyrone. Widening his eyes, Jesse shook his head, eyeing the monstrous beast in awe. It approached, and with it a hint of scent. It reminded Jesse of his school; of a sweaty locker room after PE.

“They,” stuttered Jesse, “could come back at any moment... Please, Tyrone.”

“A’ight.” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his hips forward. “Your girly lips better start sucking then. And if I feel your teeth, you gon’ get a slap.”

Floating closer, the tip of the dick settled about an inch from his face. Jesse had never seen a cock so close before; the sheer size of it frightened him and a cheesy stench was staining the air. Something tickled his throat. The hairy balls almost lay on his chin.

“Tyrone... I’m... I’m not gay... Please...”

His dick twitched. Jesse flinched, swallowed and looked up. There was no mercy to be found in the eyes of his bully. Whimpering, he leaned up on his elbows and split his lips.

The cock jerked in response to the warmth of his breath. He paused, his lips hovering around the tip of the black dick. Cocking his head back, Tyrone let out a grunt. Jesse flushed with color, sticking out the tip of his quivering tongue, searching for the head. He found it, felt a sudden warm pulse and hurried to withdrew. It tasted musky, left him cringing.

Tyrone sniggered, reached down a hand and brushed a strand of hair out of his face. Jesse shivered in response to the touch and threw him a glare.

“Frown all you want, white boy. You still gon’ milk my dick.”

Uttering a shaky sigh, Jesse looked away with a frown. Something warm and throbbing prodded his cheek, traced down to his lips and poked his kissers.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Jesse scowled and let his lips slide open. Tyrone thrust forward with his hips, feeding him an inch, his lips forced to strain to accommodate to the girthy shaft. Jesse tried to keep scowling, but the strong taste became too much; his eyes welled up with tears as the black man fed him another inch, then another, then another. The cock slid over his tongue, spread his lips wide and forced him to look up. The flaccid length gave a throb against the surface of his tongue. Jesse whimpered, frozen to the spot.

Tyrone flashed a wicked grin. “It’s your turn now, white boy... Suck.”

Pulling a face, Jesse slowly withdrew, rolling his lips up the dark length. He kept drawing back until the pink mushroom popped free from his lips, a rope of spit connecting his mouth to the dick. It had grown already, the half-flaccid shaft jerking and trying to rise.

“Give me that pretty little hand,” said Tyrone sharply. He did as he was told, and the moment he offered forth his hand, the black man grabbed it and pressed it against his shaft.

“Wrap your finger around it... There we go... You gon’ wank the shaft and lick the tip, white boy... Bet you’re real good at wanking dicks... Probably jerked off to your little date, eh?” Jesse said nothing, biting his lip and embracing the black girth with his fingers. It felt hot to the touch, and the dick grew in his palm, forcing him to loosen his grip.

I had no idea a cock could feel this way, ​thought Jesse, sweeping his gaze over the black dick. ​I can barely even wrap my fingers around it. It’s... It’s so big, and... Manly.

A hand found the back of his head and drew him closer. He resisted slightly, but the strength behind the fingers that sank into his hair and brought him nearer the dick was terrifying. He had felt it before; he knew he couldn’t resist it. The black man was too strong.

Jesse began moving his hand. At first, he tugged on the sticky skin with a slow and steady rhythm, shutting his eyes and plumping his lips. They flattened against something warm.

A deep groan escaped Tyrone. Jesse kept his lips where they were and gave the musky surface a kiss. His hand slid up and down the shaft at an increasingly fast pace. Every fiber of his being resisted his actions, but the girls could come back at any moment.

And he knew Tyrone wasn’t bluffing.

Sticking out the tip of his tongue, he circled it around the pink mushroom, then found a vein and licked it all the way down to his hand. The cheesy taste was almost unbearable, but Jesse forced himself to keep going, parting his lips and smooching the side of the dick.

“Owfh- You’re a real good lil’ cocksucker. Wank that dick faster, white boy.”

He obeyed, speeding up the handjob. His lips trailed the belly of the beast, planting kisses along the length and then split his lips to take him in, suckling on the mushroom.

“Shit,” groaned Tyrone. “You’re real good, boy. Did your bitchy sister teach you that?”

Jesse blushed, sweeping his gaze over his surroundings. The forest was quiet; there were no signs of Natasha or Sandra. Sliding his tongue around the swollen tip, he pushed forward and sucked, his cheeks hollowing around the dick. His hand sped up, even more, wanking the length furiously, desperately trying to draw cum from those plump, swaying nuts.

“Or maybe you’re just trying to protect your date,” snickered Tyrone. “Sucking my cock like a sweet little whore so I won’t ram it up her pretty butt.”

Jesse choked on the dick, gagged and withdrew. It sprang out of his mouth and quivered, ropes of spit trickling down the black surface and into the bush of pubes.

“Yeah.” Tyrone nodded slowly. “That’s it. You know I can take her if I want. You may have a fat ass, but you ain’t that blonde, white boy. Who do you think she’d pick?”

“Don’t talk about her,” snapped Jesse. His bully gave a nasty grin.

“No one said you could stop wanking my dick, bitch boy.”

Jesse scowled, beginning to jerk the shaft once more. It throbbed in his grip, a few drops of precum leaking out of the tip. The taste of dick lingered in his mouth. It wouldn’t go away. “That’s better.” Tyrone cocked his head back with a sigh. “Sweet little Natasha sure has a nice pair of tits. I wonder how they’d feel like, wrapped around my big, black dick.”

“Shut up,” muttered Jesse, fapping the dick faster and faster.

“Yo, I hear she’s into dragons and shit. That true, white boy? I bet she needs someone to fuck that nerd phase out of her. You gon’ do that, Jesse? You man enough to do that?”

Clamping his fingers around the dick, Jesse tried to suffocate the shaft. It didn’t work; the cock jerked in his grip and leaked another few drops of sticky liquid. It pointed at his face, the pisshole staring him down. Glaring at the dick, Jesse kept wanking it with a frown. “Yeah,” drawled Tyrone. “I bet little Natasha has a real nice butthole.”

Shutting his eyes, Jesse clenched his teeth and tried to block out his voice. A sharp swat across his cheek forced his eyes open; he widened them and looked up in surprise.

“Don’t you think so?” His bully smirked. “Think she’s got a real nice butthole?”

Touching the spot where he was struck, Jesse parted his lips and felt his throat tighten. The black man started thrusting his hips, fucking the outstretched hand. Jesse, struggling to hold back his tears, grasped his wrist in an attempt to steady his hand. Tyrone slammed into him with his pelvis, his balls slapping against his forearm, his pubes brushing past his skin.

“P- Please don’t take her from me,” muttered Jesse, bringing his hands back and forth to pleasure the shaft further. He shuffled closer, plumped his lips and paused. “P- Please.” “You gon’ be my girl, then? You gon’ do as I say?”

Lowering his eyes, Jesse nodded softly. Tyrone, taking a firm grip of his hair, plunged his dick against his lips. “Yeah? You gon’ have to say it, bitch. Say it to my dick.”

Jesse, looking up with doe eyes, spread his lips and let the cock in. It slid several inches inside, throbbing against his tongue. With a mouthful of dick, Jesse moaned.

“What’s that? You gon’ have to repeat that, white boy. You gon’ be my girl?”

Jesse struggled to nod, tossing the cock up and down.

Footsteps. Voices from behind the trees.

Widening his eyes, Jesse threw himself backward and shook his head, trying to escape the dick in his mouth. He couldn’t get away; his bully held him in place and pressed his hips forward, flattening his shaft and his balls against his face.

“You didn’t have to shoot me...”

“You shot me first!”

Jesse squirmed between the black thighs, grabbing a hold of the part of his bully his fingers found first; a firm butt. Squealing and wiggling, he tried to pry Tyrone away. Instead, his bully stood steady, snickering and squishing the length of his dick into his face.

“It wasn’t on purpose...”

“You pointed your gun at me!”

“You gon’ have to get me off quick,” whispered Tyrone. Staring up at his bully past the brown meat blocking half his sight, Jesse whined and stuck out of his tongue. He didn’t know what he licked, lapping at a chunk of the hairy crotch, sucking on the sticky, sweaty surface of whatever he could get his lips on. Tyrone groaned, the pace of his breath quickening.

In full panic, Jesse kissed, licked and sucked. He ran his tongue over what could only be his ballsack; worshipped the base of the hairy shaft with wet kisses; plunged his nose against the dick and tried to tickle the shaft over the edge. His bully refused to cum.

The girls were right around the corner.

They stopped abruptly.

“Hey,” said Natasha, narrowing her eyes. Her hoodie, once grey, now represented a vast variety of colors. As did her trousers. Sandra didn’t look much better.

Jesse raised his hand and gave a little wave. He sat on the ground, Tyrone standing next to him, adjusting his pants. Clearing his throat awkwardly, Jesse straightened his mask. “You two look,” Sandra approached slowly, “clean.”

Tyrone snickered. “We came to an understanding.”

The girls nodded. A silence followed. Jesse said nothing and shuffled to his feet. The air inside his mask was stuffy; he wanted nothing more than to take it off.

But then they’d see it. And he’d be fucked.

“Alright.” Sandra shrugged and checked out her magazine. “I’m out of bullets, and this is a shit game. Can we go home now? Haven’t we been out here long enough?”

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Tyrone smirked. “What do you think, Jesse?”

Squirming on the spot, Jesse nodded.

“Finally!” The redhead ran over and grabbed Tyrone by the hand, dragging the black man along. Natasha remained. When the pair had passed her by, she held out a hand.

Jesse hesitated.

“Well, come on. It’ll get dark soon.”

Pulling a face, he walked over and took her hand. She flashed him a bright smile. A moment later, they were making their way through the forest.

“I know we were meant to be on the same team,” said Natasha after a while. “It’s fine. I had a great time, and if you did too, then that’s what matters.”

Jesse said nothing.

The cabin appeared in the distance. Tyrone and Sandra walked fifty paces ahead, the redhead clinging to his arm and barely taking her eyes off him.

“I’m actually surprised,” continued Natasha, looking him over. “I didn’t think it’d be nearly this much fun. Sandra got a little sour, but, well, like, that’s her.”

Jesse said nothing.

Tyrone and Sandra already stood in the parking lot by the time they reached the fence. They let themselves out; Jesse held the door for her, and she beamed him a bright smile. During the preparation for the game, Veronica had given him a key and left him with strict instructions to lock up when they were done. He’d have to deposit the key later.

“So.” Natasha didn’t seem bothered by his silence. “Do you wanna see me again?”

Jesse widened his eyes. And after a moment, nodded his head quickly.

She snorted. “You’re so weird.”

She slid closer. Jesse took a step back, but she didn’t seem to notice. She removed her mask with delicate fingers and dropped it on the gravel. He swallowed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking down. A finger found his chin and raised his gaze. She looked deep into his eyes and smirked, biting her pink lip. Tyrone watched from some distance.

“Hey.” She met his eyes and cracked a grin. “Thank you for today.”

Jesse squinted his eyes into something resembling a smile.

He said nothing.

“Well.” Her green eyes looked into his, her fingers trailing along the length of his arm. Her touch was electric; Jesse twitched and almost parted his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He nodded.

She gave a giggle and bopped him on the front of his mask, then spun on her heels and sashayed away. Jesse watched her ass quiver and then saw Tyrone doing the same.

Clenching his fists, he pursued her, catching up with her halfway across the parking lot. She seemed a little taken back when he grabbed her arm, but faced him with a smile.

Without a word, Jesse embraced her. She caught on quickly, spreading her arms and accepting him into her grasp. She hugged him tightly, squishing her chest into his.

Jesse almost spat out what he kept in his mouth.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she drawled, withdrawing with a peal of short laughter and a wave. He watched her leave, didn’t turn around until she had entered her car. Sandra came running over the gravel, waving her hands at Natasha.

For a moment, Jesse didn’t think she’d let her in. But when the redhead ran up to the silver-coated Honda, hammering her fist against a window, she stopped the car.

They drove off, their car bumping down the narrow gravel road. As their car rounded a corner and disappeared into the forest, Jesse yanked off his mask and gagged.

A mouthful of cum gushed from his lips, splattering across the ground. Stubborn ropes of sticky sperm clung to his mouth, swaying in the gentle breeze as they grew in length.

Tyrone came up by his side, crossing his arms over his massive chest. He snickered as Jesse fell to his knees, coughing and gagging, spitting nutbutter on the gravel.

“From now on, you gon’ be my little bitch,” said the black man, coming closer. “You ain’t no little boy no more. From now on, you gon’ be my little girl. And if you have a problem with that, then I’mma have to let sweet little Natasha in on our sweet little secret.”

Jesse couldn’t get the taste out of his mouth. The salty, warm, sticky substance dwelled on his tongue, the roof of his mouth, between his teeth. Grimacing, he gagged once more.

“You ain’t got no time for a date tomorrow either... You gon’ come by my gym... We’ll find you some clothes, and then we’ll put your little sissy ass to work. A’ight, bitch?”

Jesse shivered. “Yes... Yes, Sir.”

Chapter Five

Sucking in a deep breath, Jesse entered the gym.

It was unlike any gym he had ever seen before; there was no front desk, no machines, no treadmills, no solarium. The air inside was stuffy and stank of sweat. A layer of dust coated the floor like a carpet. Along the wall on the right side of the room stood shaky squat racks and worn-down benches. Further down lay a row of dumbbells and a variety of plates. By the wall on the left hung a series of speed bags. Heavy punching bags were scattered throughout the large space. In the middle, in front of a line of stained mirrors, stood a boxing ring. Two men danced around inside; Jesse immediately recognized one of them.

It was Tyrone. And he was taking hits.

They were shirtless, their muscular torsos glistening with sweat. Each wore a pair of shorts, a helmet and a set of boxing gloves; Tyrone wore blue, his opponent wore red. The man in red was bigger; he had a bulging belly and flabby arms. He was breathing heavily, throwing slow jabs at Tyrone, who leapt around him, trying - and failing - to dodge.

A woman was watching from ringside. She looked older, probably in her early thirties. Her dark hair had been braided flat to her skull. Sporting a training bra and a pair of short shorts, she flaunted much of her chocolate-colored skin, leaving little to the imagination.

Jesse swallowed and approached.

“Jesus, Zamir! You’re panting like a hippo!”

The man in red - Zamir - took a step forward and struck. Tyrone slipped to the side and gave a quick jab to his chin. Despite how his helmet absorbed the blow, Zamir staggered.

Jesse threw up his hood and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He slouched, wandering over to the nearest punching bag, trying not to draw their attention.

It worked; Tyrone was far too occupied with his opponent, who had slowed down and was wheezing with every breath. The fat fighter kept his arms up, his belly quivering as he followed his lighter opponent, preparing to cast a punch. He eventually did.

But this time he missed.

Tyrone ducked under his arm and drove his fist deep into the bigger man’s ribs. Before his opponent had a chance to recover, he planted a punch in his belly, then the back of his head. The man in red stumbled forward and fell over, slamming into the floor.

“That’s what I am talking about!” The woman slammed her fists on the ring. Tyrone leapt over and they gave each other a fist bump. He kept jumping, performing footwork, circling his opponent who lay flat on the floor, his pudgy chest heaving as he panted.

“But you,” said the woman, leaning on the bottom rope, “are a bloody disaster, Zamir. You need to get out of here and come back once you’ve lost some weight, you fat fuck.”

Groaning softly, Zamir rolled sideways. Tyrone and the woman shared a glance as they watched him struggle out of the ring and stagger towards the wardrobe.

She was the first to break the silence. “A’ight. Get out of there. Hit the shower.”

“A’ight, Tay Tay.”

Tyrone slid between the ropes and dropped to the floor. Tearing off his gloves, he placed them on the side of the ring and was about to follow his opponent when he paused.

Jesse, cowering by the punching bag, whimpered.

“Well, well...” The black man grinned. “Look who it is.”

“What’s that, Ty?”

“Come here, Tay Tay. I’mma introduce you to someone.”

Tyrone approached, and Tay Tay followed suit some ten paces behind. She narrowed her eyes once she saw him; they were brown and mean, and Jesse quickly looked down. His bully reached him first, placing a hand on the punching bag and stretching out. Catching a whiff of sweat, Jesse took a step back and felt a rush of heat wash up on his face.

Tay Tay joined them. He hadn’t seen her properly before, and now that he did, he realized how large she was. The black woman stood at least six feet tall, sported a massive bust, a fat ass, strong arms and tree trunk thighs. She eyed him over, hands on her hips.

“Oh my... Who’s this little white boy then? Your new sparring partner?”

“Yo, don’t judge a book by its cover. Don’t think he’s got what it takes?”

“I don’t know. Looks like he’s pissing himself in fear right now.”

Tyrone snickered and gave Jesse a gentle punch on the shoulder. “Nah... This here’s my new personal assistant... I’mma put him to work around here... See what he can do.”

Jesse said nothing, scowling at the floor.

“Oh my,” said Tay Tay, stepping closer. Her massive breasts hovered short of an inch away from his terrified face. “He don’t look no happy to be here. You ready to work, white boy?” Uttering a long-drawn, shaky sigh, Jesse dipped his head. The woman clapped her hands together and Tyrone put a hand on the top of his head, ruffling his hair.

“A’ight.” She rubbed her knuckles and smirked. “You can start him off with the laundry. A lot of shorts that could use a good scrubbing. Hope he doesn’t mind the stench of dick.” “Perfect,” sniggered Tyrone, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Jesse split his lips and widened his eyes at Tay Tay, who flashed a wicked grin when their gazes met. His bully pulled him away, steering him through the room with a firm hand on the nape of his neck. They walked around the ring, heading past a blue door left wide open. Inside, Jesse spotted a washer and a couple of baskets stuffed to the brim with fabrics of various colors.

“Isn’t... Isn’t that the laundry?”

“Yup,” said Tyrone. He kept moving.

“Well... Tay Tay said...”

“I know what Tay Tay said.” Tyrone guided him towards the back of the room. There was another door there. Upon its surface, someone had written ​Wardrobe​ in blocky letters.

“So... So why are we going t- this way?”

“You that eager to sniff cock, white boy?”

He startled. “N- No, I just...”

“You gon’ be washing sweaty shorts soon enough.” Tyrone yanked open the door and showed Jesse inside. Entering a short corridor, they took a left turn and headed for a second door. Halfway there, Jesse slowed, staring at its sign with huge eyes.

“No.” Jesse shook his head. “I’m not going in there.”

“Ain’t got much of a choice, bitch.” The hand on his neck pressed him forward. Jesse tried to resist, but a moment later, his nose flattened against the frame.

“Stop!” He squirmed in the firm grip. “What... What if someone comes in there?!”

“There ain’t no bitches in this gym, boy. There’s Tay Tay, but she ain’t gon’ wanna look at your tiny, white dick anyway. Now go on in before you get a slap.”

“I... I don’t understand... Why... Why can’t I just get to work?”

“Because,” said Tyrone, opening the door and shoving him inside. Jesse stumbled and fell to his knees. When he looked up, he saw lockers, benches, toilet stalls and mirrors. The air smelled different in here; a touch of feminine scent lingered in the dressing room. “You gon’ need to put on your new uniform before you get to work. It’s over there.”

He pointed at a bench by the mirror. A uniform did lay there, stretched out and ready. It consisted of two pieces, a top, and a skirt. Jesse could not believe his eyes.

“You gon’ look real pretty, white boy.” His bully gave a nasty smile and stepped into the dressing room, shutting the door. Jesse barely noticed, eyeing his outfit in sheer disbelief. They were cheerleader clothes. And they were pink.

Scrambling to his feet, Jesse turned to Tyrone, crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head in defiance. “There’s... There’s no way I am wearing that.”

“There are two ways we can do this,” said the black man. A smirk crept onto his lips. “The easy way, or the hard way. If you gon’ disobey me, we’ll do it the hard way.”

“Just let me get to work,” pleaded Jesse. “I’m... I’m not a girl, I am a boy!”

Tyrone stepped closer, his pitch-black skin glistening with sweat. “You lost me a girlfriend, Jesse. She ain’t gon’ give me ass no more. So now that role falls to you.”

“I can’t be your girlfriend,” stuttered Jesse, backing up. “I’m... I’m a boy. I don’t even look like a girl! I’m... I’m sorry, but... I’m... I’m not wearing that, Tyrone. End... End of story!” The black man snickered. “Is that right?”

Jesse frowned. “That’s... That’s right.”

Everyone thought Sandra Byrne was a stupid girl.

Clara and her friends were responsible for that rumor. They called her a snow bunny behind her back, said she had fallen in love with a black dick and now expected the cock to marry her. That wasn’t true; she loved Tyrone, and his fat dick was not her only reason. He was attractive too; his body looked like it had been carved out of stone. No one had the guts to say a bad word about him to his face, and if they spoke behind his back, they’d regret it the moment he found out. He had money; she had no idea where it came from, but he could provide for her, and that was all she needed to know. And he was strong. Oh-so-strong.

And now Natasha wanted to steal him from her. That two-faced bitch.

“I’m so sorry, Tash,” said Sandra, flashing the brightest smile she could muster out at nothing in particular. “I’ve been such a bitch to you. I’m ever so sorry. Here - I baked you these.”

She put the bag of cupcakes on the mattress and untied the pink ribbon that held it together. Spreading the plastic with her fingers, she began unbuckling her belt.

It was Wednesday afternoon. She was meant to be out with Natasha now, but the disloyal whore hadn’t spoken to her all day. Instead, Sandra was alone in her room. In the living room downstairs, her mother was playing on the piano. Perfect cover for the noise to come.

How dare she, ​thought Sandra, wiggling her jeans down her hips. ​We’re supposed to be best friends. And then she thinks she’s going to steal my boyfriend. Over my dead body!

She bent over, threw a glance over her shoulder and lowered her ass down to the wide open plastic bag. Biting her lip, she pulled a face and squeezed as hard as she could.

The fart was louder than she had expected, hot and putrid. Groaning softly, she tugged her trousers up her butt and hurried to shut the gift bag by tying a knot on the ribbon.

But you love cupcakes, Tash. I baked them just for you. I’ve even added something special. I so hope you enjoy them, you dumb, fat-assed, blonde slut. I really do.

Nibbling on a nail, Sandra flicked her way through a stack of birthday cards. She finally decided on a card depicting a green, sunny field with a brown, grassing stallion. Tash loved horses. If her tits were a little smaller, Sandra figured she probably would’ve been an equestrian. But they were too big, and she’d just fall off. The stupid whore.

Grabbing a pen - pink, with an added glossy touch - she sat down by her desk and pulled the card up in front of her. “Dear Tash,” said Sandra out loud, scribbling it down meanwhile. “I am so sorry for shooting your ass yesterday... It was such a hard target to miss.”

She leaned on an elbow and pondered. “... Hug, Sandra.”

“Perfect.” With a bright smile, she tied the card to the cupcake-bag and was about to grab a pair of scissors to curl the ribbon when her phone vibrated suddenly and rang.

Sandra grabbed it and threw the screen a glance. Her eyes widened. It was...

“Tyrone! I’m so glad you called! Oh my god, I thought you didn’t wanna talk to me... I’ve missed you so much... Wait, what? Now? Well... I guess I can come over...”

He gave her the address and hung up. Rolling her eyes, she curled the ribbons, grabbed the bag of cupcakes and found her purse. ​I was on my way out anyway, s​ he thought, fetching her phone from the bed and stuffing it into her purse. She never went anywhere without it.

I’ll tell him about the gift. About what I did to it. Maybe he’ll play along. Pretend to get angry. Maybe he’ll even... Oh my god, I could use a good spanking.

Five minutes later, Sandra Byrne was on her way out. She had always liked to think of herself as quite the imaginative girl. After all, she had written quite a bit of fan fiction. But what she was about to witness exceeded even her wildest imagination.

Without delay, she set off for her car.

Silence reigned in the gym.

Sandra, hugging her purse to her tummy, headed deeper into the grand locale. She walked amidst punching bags up to a ring. She had never seen one in real life and took a moment to admire the sight. Spotting a few drops of blood on the white mat, she pulled a face and hurried onwards, brushing herself down and making small noises of disgust.

He had told her to go to the wardrobe. She entered the first door and took a left, but paused before heading through the second. Sliding her fingers through her crimson hair, she fluffed it up a bit and adjusted her top, tugging out the hem of her shirt to widen her cleavage.

All right. S​ he threw her butt a glance over a shoulder. It filled out her jeans perfectly; that’s why those trousers were her favorite pair. ​He’s a man. They’re always horny. Just sway your hips and he’ll be all yours. If you play it smart, you might even leave with a sore ass.

Voices sounded from inside. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, trying to make out the conversation. There were two people behind the door; one of them was clearly Tyrone, but his companion spoke quietly. She couldn’t make out what he - or she - was saying.

If there’s a girl in there, I’ll...

She took a deep breath, prepared herself, flung open the door and stepped inside. The sight that met her froze her to the spot. There was a woman in there with him. She blanched upon seeing Sandra, attempting to scurry behind Tyrone. He didn’t let her, grabbing her by the nape of her neck and pushing her towards the new arrival so that she stumbled.

The girl fell, tumbling to her knees. Sandra clenched her fists. The little whore wore a skimpy top, the letters ​brat​ written in white across the chest of the pink shirt. It left her tummy, soft but flat, bare. A matching skirt draped her hips, pink with white stripes, barely long enough to hide away her panties. Squeezing her milky white thighs together, the queer girl stared at Sandra with terrified eyes, pressing her hands to her crotch and blushing.

She scowled at Tyrone. She knew what this was. She had known ever since he took a liking to Natasha. Just as she was about to spin on her heels and storm out, he smiled at her.

It drove her into a rage. Locking furious eyes on the kneeling girl, she marched over and rose her purse high in the air. But as she was about to strike, she gasped.

She recognized her. The girl on the floor wasn’t a girl at all. It was...

“Jesse? Is that... Jesse?” Sandra gawked at the trembling boy in the skimpy outfit. Neither of them said a word, but upon closer examination, there was no doubt.

It was Jesse. And he was dressed like a girl.

“Please,” pleaded the boy suddenly. The sound of his voice made her flinch. A deep crimson color dominated his features from his throat to the roots of his messy brown locks.

Tyrone smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. “If you don’t show her, I will.”

A shaky sigh escaped his lips. Sandra widened her eyes as she watched him settle his ass on the floor and spread his legs wide. After a moment of hesitation, he flipped up his skirt. Sandra took one look at what dwelled between his legs and burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh... My... God! That is the smallest cock I have ever seen! What the fuck!”

He whimpered like a hurt puppy. She didn’t care. Whenever her eyes swept to the shriveled little thing between his hairless thighs, she howled with laughter. It was so tiny, the flaccid prick didn’t even lay sideways. Instead, his cock pointed up like a little nub, too short to fall to one side, cuddled up close to a pair of nuts that could easily fit in the palm of her hand. “Holy shit.” She slapped a hand to her lips. “Oh my god... Poor Natasha!”

Jesse, blushing like a bride on her wedding night, stifled a sob and locked misty eyes on the floor. A pang of guilt flooded Sandra. But then her eyes swept over his cock, and she lost control once more, cracking up. It looked completely out of place. It looked...

“Useless,” whispered Sandra. “I had no idea boys could be so small.”

An idea struck her. Widening her eyes, she stuffed a hand into her purse and sought through the contents. Fetching forth her phone, she tapped the screen, opening up the camera.

“No,” said Jesse. A touch of panic could be heard in his voice. “No... Nonono!”

Tugging down his skirt, he tried to scramble to his feet.

“No!” Sandra giggled. “Wait! I want a picture! Sit... No! Stay!”

Tyrone came to her rescue. Coming up behind the white boy, he wrapped one arm around his torso while the other snuck up underneath one of his legs. Jesse squealed and squirmed as his feet left the floor. Tugging up the skirt, Tyrone forced open the pale thighs and turned to face the camera. Grabbing the white boy by his chin, he forced him to look at Sandra.

Sandra bit her lip. Tyrone was manhandling the smaller boy. It cost him nothing to keep him in place, and no matter how much Jesse squirmed, the black arms never gave in. A gush of warmth filled her belly and descended down to the spot between her thighs.

“Say cheese,” muttered Sandra, a touch of heat flushing up on her own face. The camera couldn’t focus; Jesse squirmed too much. Tyrone, yanking his thigh higher, forced the white boy to stay still and gave Sandra a chance to snap a picture. She snapped five.

Her boyfriend, sniggering mockingly, put Jesse down and ruffled his hair. The white boy scowled at him, then cupped his crotch with his hands and glared at the floor.

“Awh,” giggled Sandra. “You made the itty bitty boy angry. Look!”

Jesse yelped, jumping on the spot. Tyrone had smacked him on the butt, and now the white boy had his lips split wide and was staring up at him with a face full of surprise.

“Don’t give me that look, bitch. I’mma slap that booty red and blue.”

Cracking up once more, Sandra giggled into the palm of her hand. Moving closer, she kept pointing the camera at Jesse. It worked like garlic on a vampire; he staggered backward and tried to hide his face, bobbing into Tyrone, who grabbed him and swept him off his feet.

He hit the floor with a thud; Tyrone was upon him before he had a chance to move. Her boyfriend tugged down his shorts while wrestling with the squirming white boy. She gasped as Tyrone pinned the pale, flailing arms to the floor and sat his bare ass on Jesse’s face.

She gasped, hurrying to raise her phone and snap a picture nonetheless.

“Oh my god! Look at his face!”

Tyrone grinned, wiping his butt on the flustered face. Sandra snorted, dropping to all fours to catch a better snapshot. The white boy winced and clawed at the black ass, trying to push it away. He shouldn’t have; Tyrone growled and slammed his butt down with such force his nose slipped up the dark buttcrack. Squealing, Jesse tapped the black thighs.

Gnawing on her lip, Sandra snickered and took another photo. She lay down and crawled closer, her voice silky and sweet as she spoke: “Is it smelly down there?”

Jesse looked at her with huge doe eyes. “Mmmmmph!”

“You’re at his mercy now,” purred Sandra, tittering as the black butt bounced a few times before it flattened out across Jesse’s flustered, horrified face once more. “You better kiss his ass if you want him to let you go; a soft, wet kiss right on that dark shitter.”

Widening his eyes, Jesse flailed and howled in protest.

“You can pretend it’s your little girlfriend,” snickered Tyrone, leaning forward slightly and spreading his asscheeks. “C’mon, bitch. Give Natasha a kiss.”

The moment the black ass left his face, Jesse heaved for his breath. Sandra, nibbling on her lip and squeezing her thighs together, flicked her eyes between his blushing face and the dark, puffy, twitching butthole hovering over him. She didn’t think he’d do it.

He did it.

Plumping his lips, Jesse slowly leaned closer. Sandra yelped and scrambled to retrieve her phone, quick to prepare the camera. The white boy threw her a hopeless glance, then whimpered and pressed his lips to the black shitter, flattening it with his mouth.

This time he didn’t react to the flash of the camera. Sandra could barely believe her eyes; a white boy lay inches away, smooching the asshole of his black bully. She stifled a moan. “All right.” Sandra found her feet and adjusted her cleavage. “I’m sure Natasha is going to love these photos. You know what... I’ll send them over right now.”

“What- No! You can’t...”

Jesse broke off. Sandra looked up from her phone and saw why. Tyrone had sat down halfway through his sentence, smothering Jesse with his ass and muffling his words. Scoffing, she brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and turned to her phone. “Let’s see... Nathalie... Nathalia... Natasha... There she is! All right... Send photos...”

The white boy went mental underneath the dark buttocks, kicking his feet and tossing his legs around, screaming his protests into the hairy crack enveloping his face.

Sandra rolled her eyes. “Do you really not want Natasha to see these?”

Tyrone laughed mockingly and leaned forward, revealing a sweat-stained, bright crimson face. A curly pube stuck to his lips. Sandra shuddered.

“Y- Yes,” pleaded Jesse, gasping for air. “Please! I’ll do anything!”

She cocked an eyebrow. “You’ll do anything?”

Jesse hurried to nod. A buttcheek prodded his face. Tyrone wouldn’t leave him alone; he bobbed his ass up and down, then sat, pinning down the white boy once more.

“Well,” drawled Sandra. An idea was taking shape in her mind.

“You’ll have to prove it.”

Chapter Six

Jesse knocked on the door.

Half a minute later, it slid up. A woman appeared in the doorway. Jesse gulped; it was not the woman he had expected to see. Clearing his throat, he forced forth a smile.

“Hi. Uhm- I was wondering if Natasha is home. She’s...”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Who are you?”

“Oh, I... I’m sorry... I’m Jesse, and...”

He trailed off. The woman, probably somewhere in her forties, wore a towel wrapped around her head and a bathrobe. When she stirred, the robe slid slightly open. And if this woman was who Jesse expected her to be, he now knew from whom Natasha had gotten the ample size of her melons.

“Very well,” sighed the woman. “I’ll call her down.”

“Oh, don’t worry. She’s... She’s expecting me.”

The woman with the massive breasts put her hands on her hips. Her eyes crept up and down his frame suspiciously. “She’s... She’s expecting... You?”

Jesse swallowed and nodded, averting his gaze.

“All right, then.” She stepped out of the way and cocked her head. Jesse obeyed, darting into the hallway to await further instruction. “Up the stairs, first room on the left.”

“Thank you,” muttered Jesse and flashed a polite smile. She didn’t return it, eyeing him over with a bewildered look on her face. Jesse didn’t think any of it and hurried upstairs.

The door to the first room on the left stood slightly open. Jesse knocked and threw a peek inside. There was no one in there. Checking his surroundings, he went inside.

Jesse froze; the interior of the room was unlike anything he had ever seen before. The ceiling, adorned with small, bright, white stars, had been painted dark. In the middle dwelled a crescent moon, out from behind which burst a myriad of fantastical creatures. She had painted dragons, demons, werewolves, fairies, and unicorns. He kept looking, and found an entire wall decorated to her drawings on paper; these contained a bit of everything, but one of them particularly caught his attention: an elvish goddess with plump, bare breasts bathing in a glittery pool of clear water under a sparkling sun. Sensing a tingle in his trousers, Jesse blushed and kept moving. Her room was furnished with a desk along with a matching chair, a television hanging on a wall, a pink laptop, a closet, a nightstand and a king-sized bed complete with posts that reached all the way up to the ceiling. The bed was strange; dark blue sheets covered in stars hung from the posts and enveloped the mattress like a large tent. The sole opening was by the foot of the bed. Jesse peered inside and saw a pink bear plushie hugging a heart sitting by a stack of pillows. It made him smile.

The whole room smelled of her. Jesse stopped to take in her scent, then wandered over to the nightstand. Three cupcakes with pink frosting lay there on a plate, the baked goods yet to be removed from the clear plastic bag that kept them sealed. Jesse considered taking one; a foul, dirty taste lingered on his tongue. Shuddering, he resisted the temptation.

A toilet flushed somewhere. Jesse grew pale and touched his lips.

“Beg for it, you little bitch.”

“No,” whined Jesse, staring at the brown eye with wide eyes. Sandra sat by his side, her hand on the back of his head, pressing him forward.

“Oh, shush,” she giggled. “You want it. I can see it in your eyes.”

Tyrone bent over the sink and spread his ass. He looked over his shoulder, his lips curling into a nasty smile. Jesse swallowed, seeing the hairy, puffy pucker twitch invitingly.

Soft lips brushed past his ear. “You’re going to lick it,” whispered Sandra, her voice so sweet a chill ran up his spine and left him shuddering. “If you don’t, Natasha is going to see some very interesting pictures. And we don’t want that to happen, do we, little boy?”

He met her eyes. They flashed devilishly. Uttering a shaky sigh, Jesse shook his head and let the hand in his hair guide him forward. The scent of sweaty ass filled his nostrils and the hair on the black buttocks tickled his cheeks. His lips were so close now. All he had to do was stick out his tongue. Shutting his eyes, he split his trembling lips.

“Lick it,” demanded Sandra. “Show him the respect he deserves.”

Tyrone scoffed from above. “Pay your reparations, bitch.”

Jesse leaned in with a whimper, sticking out his shaky tongue. Buttcheeks enveloped his face, blocking out his sight and leaving him in darkness. And then the tip of his tongue touched a circle with a coppery, musky taste. Pulling a face, he gave it a lick.

A manly moan was drowned out by a peal of girlish laughter. A part of Jesse appreciated how the black butt engulfed his face; at least he didn’t have to look Sandra in the eye.

“Taste that black ass, bitch.” Tyrone sat back, squishing his butthole against the extended tongue. Jesse tried to draw back, but Sandra hurried to shuffle behind him. She kept him in place, grabbing the back of his head with both hands and smothering him with the butt.

“Eat it!” Her voice was sharper now. “We’re trying to teach you how to kiss Tash!”

He didn’t want too. Every fiber of his being resisted. Yet he knew what they would do if he refused; he had no reason to doubt their threats. He simply had no choice.

He obeyed, wiggling his tongue to place the flat of it against the brown eye and gave a muffled sob as he licked it. It winked in response, expanding against his tongue and trying to snatch hold of the tip. Jesse blinked back tears, running his tongue in circles around the plump rim before puckering his lips to offer the sweaty asshole a soft kiss.

“You’re such a faggot,” snickered Tyrone. “Oh, you gon’ be my girl real soon.”

In response, Jesse lapped at the butthole, grimacing from the taste. He shut his eyes and thought back to his dream; a dream he’d had so many times before. He thought of Natasha and her plump butt, pretended the butthole he pleased with his tongue was hers. It made it slightly more bearable, but the taste kept pulling him out of his thoughts. While he had no idea how Natasha tasted down there, there was no way she tasted like this.

“I wonder what Tash would think if she saw you now,” teased Sandra, crawling her fingers over his crotch. He jerked; a few of them slid over his junk, and the thin fabric of his skirt didn’t offer much protection from her touch. Her hot breath washed over the nape of his neck. She circled her arms around his tummy and hugged him tightly, squishing her bosom into his back to force him deeper into the hairy asscrack. A small tent was taking shape on the front of his skirt. Jesse, trembling in response to the playful fingers, wrapped his lips around the plump asshole and sucked on the shitter, his eyes rolling back with a moan.

“There we go,” purred Sandra. “Worship that black ass.”

“Hey.”

Jesse flinched so bad he almost fell off the bed. Natasha stood in the doorway, wearing a pink pajamas. When he looked at her, she flashed a bright smile, sashaying inside.

“Are you okay? Did I scare you?”

“Uhm.” He cleared his throat and shook his head. “No, that’s... You didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” She darted over and joined him. “I was in the bathroom.”

“Yeah,” Jesse nodded. “I heard.”

Her smile faded away immediately. Jesse wanted to smack his face with his palm. He placed his hands in his lap, intertwined his fingers and swept his gaze through the room. She didn’t break the silence. With no idea what to say, Jesse resorted to clicking his tongue.

“So,” said Natasha after a while. “I’m... I’m glad you could come. Though what you just said probably isn’t the wisest thing to say to a girl on the second date.”

He winced. “All right, look... I’m sorry...”

She fell back on the bed with a snort. “It’s fine. But don’t ever say that again.”

He turned to face her. She lay stretched out across the mattress, her hefty bosom straining the pink fabric of her pajama top to the brim. Swallowing, he quickly looked away.

“So.” She flashed him a coy smile. “What do you wanna do?”

“It’s... It’s all the same to me, really.”

She bit her lip. “Mom is cooking dinner. Oh, don’t give me that look. She’s not staying tonight. In fact, she has a date, so... We will have the whole house to ourselves.”

“Oh, okay... What... What is she cooking?”

“You’re probably not going to like it.” She sat up suddenly, turned around and lay on her tummy, swinging her feet lazily. “Tell you what. I’ll let you have a cupcake.”

“What, no, they’re... They’re yours, I don’t wanna...”

“Nonsense.” She reached past him, her arm brushing his thigh. Jesse twitched, cleared his throat again and pretended like nothing. She paused, eyeing him with sultry eyes, then picked up the gift bag and dropped it in his lap. “I want you to have one. Try it.”

Her green eyes looked at him expectantly. Clearing his throat once more, Jesse nodded slowly and untied the ribbon. A weird odor erupted out from the plastic - a dirty stench - but Natasha didn’t seem to notice, so he picked up a cupcake and took a bite.

Resting her chin on her palms, she watched him eat it in silence, and didn’t say a word before he had finished his first bite. “Does that taste strange to you?”

Struggling to swallow, Jesse suppressed a grimace and slowly shook his head. “No. They are... They’re... They taste just fine... I’m... I’m not that hungry though.”

She bared her teeth in a wicked grin. “It’s fine. Finish it.”

He obeyed. It didn’t help the taste lingering in his mouth, and the cupcake somehow seemed to contain a similar flavor, but he endured it. He endured it for her.

Over the next few hours, Jesse loosened his tongue. They spoke for about half an hour before a familiar voice called them downstairs. Jesse had been right before; the busty woman was her mother, and she had prepared not only dinner but also the table.

They found her in the hallway. She had put on a white, skin-tight dress that left little to the imagination, and was in the process of fixing her hair in front of the hallway mirror.

“I’ll be home late,” she told Natasha, adjusting her cleavage. “Don’t wait up.”

Jesse felt a touch of relief when her mother finally left. She wouldn’t stop sending him suspicious looks, and while she had tried to hide it, he had noticed each and every one. He contemplated asking Natasha about her, but decided against it. It did bother him a little; out of all the boys her daughter could’ve brought home, Jesse couldn’t possibly be the worst. They sat down to eat. She poured him a glass of soda, then gave him a plate consisting of some vegetables he knew, and some he had never seen before.

“We’re vegan,” she explained, giggling at the face he made. “I hope that’s okay.”

“Well, yeah... Uhm... Of course... I’m actually considering that too.”

It was easy to talk to her. No matter how dumb his responses were, she giggled it away and kept the conversation going. It didn’t take long before she was able to calm him down to the point where a second of silence no longer felt like a knife in the gut. Jesse had never experienced that with a woman before; silence was suddenly okay. It was okay to meet her eyes, flash a sheepish smile and look down at his plate. It was okay to graze her hand and quickly retract his fingers out of fear of her smooth, soft skin. It was impossible to make it awkward with Natasha; she’d grin, giggle and touch him playfully on purpose.

They didn’t clear the table after dinner. Jesse suggested he’d do it, but she explained that her mother would take care of it when she got home. He didn’t like that idea, but before he could utter his protests, she had already dragged him halfway to the couch.

The next few hours flew by. She wrapped herself in a blanket and snuggled up in a corner while he went to take a seat as far away as possible. She didn’t let him; the moment he tried to sit down, she patted a spot by her feet and forced him closer with a smile.

They talked about everything. Natasha told him that her mother - Erika - was a novelist and had sold her last book, a steamy romance, for a six-figure advance. Despite her career, she had pressed her daughter towards a career in the medical field. And when Natasha had decided to study art in college instead, she had threatened to kick her out.

“But you’re a fantastic artist,” he said, unable to contain his smile when she beamed. “You are the best artist I have ever met. I’m sure many people would want to buy your work.” “Well,” she drawled. “Try telling that to my mother.”

The conversation turned, and suddenly he was in the spotlight. He didn’t like that; he had no intention of telling her about his future plans, because he had no idea. An article he had read months ago sprung to mind. It had been titled: “How to Get a Girl: Plan Your Future.”

He steered the conversation away from work and commitments, and before long they were chatting about games. She was unbelievable. He looked at her, and couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that this stunning, gorgeous, sweet girl on the couch could enjoy what he did; the same strange, time-consuming, guilty-pleasure video games. When she spoke about her favorites, her eyes lit up and the words poured out. And whenever the subject got a little too nerdy, he reigned himself in. She - oblivious to all that was awkward - delved deeper.

They talked about her art. She ran upstairs and fetched a few of her drawings. She explained to him the idea behind each one, and he listened eagerly. Few of them could be considered safe for work; an abundance of bare breasts and naked asses appeared in the bundle she had brought downstairs, often drawn in raw and explicit detail. Elves seemed to be her favorite subject, drawn nude in lewd positions along with swords and magic.

Jesse listened intently. He didn’t take his eyes off her for a second. Her plump lips looked so welcoming; her green eyes shone as they flicked between him and the paper; her teeth were pearly white, and she flashed them often, howling with laughter and smiling prettily.

She placed a hand on his knee. He withdrew, but she leaned closer. The stack of drawings slid off her lap and ended up in a scattered pile on the floor. Their eyes met, and for a moment, they stared at each other in silence. She puckered her lips and approached.

In the hallway, the door slammed open. Natasha withdrew with a sigh.

“Thought you’d be late,” groaned Natasha, pushing Jesse away and turning to face her mother staggering into the living room. She ignored her daughter, wincing with every step and adjusting the hem of her dress, tugging it down her thighs. He thought she looked strange: her hair a wild mess, her face coated in a faint pink color.

He had no idea why he did what he did next. Guided by some unseen force, Jesse stood and walked over to the window, lifting the curtain aside and peering at the road.

A black truck stood parked by the side of the road. It reminded him of...

“Hey,” whispered Natasha, coming up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist with a sweet titter. “What are you doing? Did you see someone?”

Jesse squinted, so focused on the car down by the sidewalk he barely registered the arms hugging him. “I don’t know... Is that your car?”

“No,” said Natasha. “That’s mom’s boyfriend.”

“Why isn’t... Why isn’t he leaving?”

She parted her lips to reply, he felt her breath brush against his ear. But before she could utter her words, her mother swayed past them, her fat ass wobbling with every step.

“We’re going out to eat,” she said, a hint of a blush lingering on her face. “And I forgot my purse. I am leaving now though, so... Don’t wait up, Natasha.”

“Bye bye,” retorted her daughter. There was amusement in her voice.

Erika scowled, took a moment to arrange her hair in the mirror and darted outside. The door slammed shut, and a moment later, the black truck drove off. It still reminded him of... “So.” Natasha spun him around. “We got the house to ourselves.”

Jesse looked down. Her tits squished slightly against his chest. A sudden twitch in his trousers made him wince. She flashed a coy smile, gnawing on her bottom lip.

“And,” she continued, patting down a crease on his shirt, “I have an idea.”

He said nothing, staring at her with wide eyes and a growing boner.

“We’ll play a game,” she purred, stroking her hands down his waist. Her touch froze him to the spot, his lips splitting in an involuntary gasp. “Close your eyes, Jesse.”

He didn’t like the look she gave him, but obeyed anyway, shutting his eyes. Her hands slipped away. Her breath touched his lips. Anticipation rose in his chest, followed by a sudden desire to grab her by the shoulders, pull her close. Taste her.

“It’s called...”

She broke off, breathing against his lips. He trembled, struggling with the temptation to open his eyes. He waited patiently. Seconds passed. He no longer felt her breath.

He opened his eyes. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Hide and seek!” called a giggling, girly voice from the hallway before the sound of heavy footsteps storming up the staircase echoed throughout the house.

“Hide and seek,” muttered Jesse with a groan.

His cock stood rigid, straining his trousers.

Chapter Seven

Mark waited by his locker.

He looked comical where he stood, his scrawny arms crossed over his narrow chest and his huge glasses tilted slightly to the side, drowning in his monstrously large favorite hoodie. “Hey,” said Jesse casually. That’s when he noticed the scowl.

“So,” said Mark icily. “Any plans tonight?”

Jesse froze with a sigh, then nodded and opened his locker, depositing one book and retrieving a new one. “Yeah... Natasha is having a little party.”

His friend snorted. Jesse pretended not to hear it.

“Oh, I see. Tell me, Jesse. Are we still friends?”

Rolling his eyes, Jesse stuffed the book into his backpack and flung it over his shoulder. “Not this again. Jesus, Mark. Of course we’re still friends. What are you on about?”

“We always play Battlegun Four on Friday nights,” growled Mark.

“Yeah,” Jesse nodded. “We do. And now I have a girlfriend.”

“And now you have a girlfriend,” mocked Mark, adjusting his wide-brimmed glasses. “So I guess that means we’re no longer friends, because you don’t have time for me anymore.” Jesse uttered the deepest sigh he could muster. “It’s been two days, Mark. I couldn’t come over on Wednesday, or on Thursday. And now I can’t come over tonight. That doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore, you dimwit. I can come over tomorrow. I promise.”

Someone slammed their locker a few rows down. Mark flinched visibly, but quickly resumed his puffed up stance and frowned. “You couldn’t come over on Tuesday either.”

“I told you I was going out to play paintball. I sent you a text.”

“We were going to the movies to see Deadball Three.”

“All right, Mark,” sighed Jesse. “I get it. We’ll go tomorrow.”

His friend shook his head. “The cinema stopped airing it.”

Jesse snapped. He grabbed the door to his locker and slammed it shut as hard as he possibly could. It clanked against the edges. Mark flinched once more.

“What the hell is the matter with you!” shouted Jesse. A flock of women passing by stopped to check out the scene, anticipation flashing in their eyes. “Battlegun Four! Deadball Three! Play this! Watch that! Blablabla! I have a girlfriend now, Mark! All right?! A girlfriend! A real, breathing girlfriend! Not some pixel tits that I chat with online and, somehow honestly believe I will marry when I grow up! I have a relationship now, Mark! She’s cute, funny, and guess what, I really like her! And you know what... I am sorry, but she comes first!”

The girls cackled and moved on. Jesse ignored them, clenching his fists and scowling at his friend. But as he saw the misty eyes behind those thick glasses, he instantly regretted it. “Wait.” Jesse reached out for Mark, but he spun on his heels and ran down the hallway. A brunette pointed at his fleeing friend and said something. He didn’t hear it, but the way her friends broke into fits of laughter led him to the conclusion that it was something cruel.

He sighed and turned back to his locker, tilting his head against the steel frame. A finger suddenly dug between his ribs. Jesse jerked in pain and twirled on the spot.

“Hey, big boy.” Natasha brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and glanced at her surroundings with a haughty expression. “Are you ready for tonight?”

The brunette who, a moment earlier, had mocked his friend watched from a distance, but when Natasha met her gaze, she blanched and averted her eyes.

“Y- Yeah. Absolutely,” said Jesse, forcing forth a smile. While it became easier by the day, he still struggled to smile while looking into those emerald eyes.

“Good.” She patted him on the chest. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Can’t wait,” drawled Jesse; the brunette had snatched his attention. She glared at him from across the hallway; he had no idea why. His girlfriend put a stop to it with a single glance. A short moment later, the brunette was scurrying down the hallway and out of sight.

Jesse squinted. “Do you... Do you know her, or something?”

“You do too,” said Natasha. She pressed herself against him, bathing him in her perfume. He took a deep breath and encircled her with his arms, looking at her quizzically.

She cocked an eyebrow. “What? Don’t you recognize her?”

He shook his head. The woman in question had disappeared into the crowd. There was something familiar about her, but he couldn’t recall where he had seen her before. “It’s Clara’s friend,” said Natasha casually. “From the party.”

“Oh.” He recalled her now. “Don’t... Don’t you two get along, or something?”

“No,” drawled Natasha, licking her lips. “We have our differences.”

A moment of silence. The warmth of her body against his. Her alluring lips inches away. A dreamy sigh. She turned to him, straightening his hoodie. “Eight o’clock. All right?”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Jesse, then watched her depart. He thought back to the moment he found her hiding behind the shower curtain, the moment she wrapped her arms around his neck and threw herself into his arms, ordering him to carry her downstairs. He thought back to the movie they saw, some feature-length children cartoon that left her bawling her eyes out and crawling onto his lap to cuddle. He remembered the moment her green eyes looked deep into his blue ones. He remembered the moment her lips pressed against his.

He remembered the condom he found in her trash. Fresh and full of cum.

A flood of warm light washed onto the driveway as Natasha opened the door.

She had dressed up for the occasion. A black dress hugged her voluptuous figure, accentuating all the right places. A black string hung from her neck, and attached to the end of it, a silver pentagram threatening to disappear in the depths of her supple cleavage.

She gave him a mysterious smile when he approached her, offering out a hand. He took it and went in for a hug, but she kept him at bay, shutting the door and leading him inside.

Lit candles flickered in the living room. She had dimmed the lights and filled the air with a scent unknown to him. It didn’t take him long to discover the source: the candles.

It was surprisingly quiet in the house. On arrival, Jesse had expected there to be a party, but with the exception of someone - probably a single person - rummaging in the kitchen, the two of them were alone. She led him to the couch and sat him down.

Two glasses of wine adorned the TV table. A half-eaten bowl of grapes sat next to them. Two speakers, attached to the ceiling in two different corners, played a gentle song. The volume had been turned down to the point where the words could barely be made out.

Natasha bent over the table, smiling brightly. “All right. What do you want?”

Her ample breasts, straining the fabric of her dress, squished and quivered as she adjusted one of her shoulder straps. He swallowed. “I’m... I’m sorry?”

“To drink, silly.” She gave a soft giggle. “What do you want to drink?”

“I think I know what he wants.”

A voice from the kitchen. Jesse jumped on the spot and turned to face the source. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her, scantily clad and toying with a lock of crimson hair.

She flashed a playful smile. “Hi, Jesse.”

“Well.” Natasha stood, rolling her eyes. “Since my boyfriend has become a mute, he will have to settle for wine. Grab a glass from the kitchen, Sandra.”

With a short wave, the pale redhead disappeared into the kitchen. Jesse squirmed on the spot and said nothing. His girlfriend didn’t seem to notice. Wandering over, she sat.

“I saw what happened with Mark today,” she said after a while, cuddling up to his side and tilting her head against his shoulder. “I know he’s your best friend. I’m sorry.”

He frowned. “I’m surprised you even know his name.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” He sighed, rubbing his face. “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. Can we not talk about Mark right now? I’m here to spend with you.”

“You’re right.” She bared her teeth in a grin. “We should do something fun.”

“I concur,” said Sandra, balancing a wine glass in one hand and a bowl of chips in the other. “Tash and I spent the afternoon binging a whole season of Wicked Witches. That’s why she’s wearing her pentagram. We can’t keep watching it: I am terrified of what she’ll put on next.” “You’re an idiot,” said Natasha, scooping up a handful of chips. She offered a flake to Jesse, who shook his head but gave in when she pressed it between his lips with a giggle.

The redhead held out a glass. He went to take it, but paused when their gazes met. She stared at him with a look that screamed trouble. Pretending not to notice, he took it.

“I wanna play a game,” said his girlfriend suddenly. “Something fun.”

“Any clever suggestions, Tash? A round of monopoly?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She gave her friend a blank look and then turned to Jesse. “What about you? Do you know any good games? How about a drinking game?”

“I... I don’t drink that often,” he stammered, sipping his wine.

“I know one.” Sandra, who still stood, threw back her hair haughtily. “It’s hilarious when you’re drunk. It’s called never have I ever.”

Natasha lit up. “Yes! We’ll play that! I’ll start!”

Jesse winced, but kept quiet. Before he had a chance to put down his drink, Sandra took a seat on the couch, squishing him against Natasha.

“Perfect,” said Sandra. “Never have I ever...”

“I said I would go first, stupid.”

“Whatever. Hurry up, then.”

“Okay.” Natasha cleared her throat, straightened up and looked thoughtfully into the air for a moment. “Never have I ever... Never have I ever... Went dancing.”

“Really, Tash? Is that the best you can come up with?”

“You do better, then. And besides, I know you’ve gone dancing. So drink.”

Sandra sighed and took a sip. Jesse sat frozen on the sofa, squished between two shapely bodies. They both turned to each other as they bickered, flashing him their deep cleavages and squishing their breasts against his arms. He trembled, trying not to move.

“It’s my turn,” said Sandra. “Oh, wait! Your boyfriend didn’t drink. Have you never gone dancing, Jesse? Actually, whatever, I don’t much care. Never have I ever had sex.”

Their glasses never left the TV table. They looked at him playfully. Jesse widened his eyes; he knew what they expected. With a shaky sigh, he raised his glass and took a sip.

The girls burst into a fit of giggles. His face flushed up with heat.

“Your turn,” smirked Natasha, jabbing him in the side with her elbow. Sandra cocked an eyebrow and held her glass ready, watching him with a hint of arrogance.

“Uhm,” Jesse coughed and wiped his lips. “Never have I ever...”

“You know what.” Sandra cut him off. “This is so boring. Let’s play something else. We could play... How about a round of truth or dare? That’s always amusing.”

“I love truth or dare,” Natasha chimed in. “Yeah. We’ll play that.”

“We’ll need a bottle. Grab the empty one from the counter.”

They sent him to get it. By the time he returned, they sat on the floor. His girlfriend patted a spot on the carpet, and as he took a seat, they now formed a rough circle.

“The rules are simple.” Natasha snatched the bottle out of his hand and placed it sideways on the floor. “We spin it, and whoever sits where the tip points has to choose.”

“Truth or dare,” purred Sandra. She smirked at him seductively.

Clearing his throat, Jesse nodded slowly. It’s not as if he had any choice. The women dragged him around like a puppy on a leash, ordering him to stand, sit and be quiet.

For a moment, they looked at each other. A coy smile played on the lips of his girlfriend as she slowly took the bottle, let the anticipation rise, then spun it.

Please don’t point at me, t​ hought Jesse. ​Not me. Not me. Not me.

He looked at the floor. The top of the bottle pointed straight at him.

Sandra gnawed on a nail and grinned devilishly. “Truth or dare?”

He scowled at her. “Truth.”

“Oooh,” cooed Natasha, edging closer. “We’re about to uncover some secrets about my mysterious boyfriend. Remember... If you lie...”

“I’ll know,” cut in Sandra, and her lips took the shape of a dangerous smile. Tucking a crimson lock behind her ear, she pondered. Jesse fumbled, his heart pounding.

“Have you ever,” she drawled, “fantasized about another man?”

“What-” He widened his eyes and shook his head. “No!”

“It’s okay, babe.” A hand gripped his shoulder. “It’s completely normal to have fantasies. I fantasize about other women all the time. There’s no need to hide it.”

“I’ve... I’ve never fantasized about another man! Never! I swear!”

“Boys these days.” The redhead rolled her eyes and groaned. “So sore about their own sexuality. It’s okay, Jesse. Some boys only like women. Some boys like...”

“Women and black men,” Natasha chimed in. “You can tell us, sweetie.”

“I’m not gay!” Jesse frowned, staring daggers at the redhead. “I... I don’t fantasize about any kind of men! I’m straight, all right?! I like women, and that’s it!”

“Oh my,” snorted Sandra. “Your boyfriend sure is straight.”

“You know what,” Jesse reached over and spun the bottle. “My turn.”

It whirled around in a circle, then slowed down. It made three excruciating rounds before it came to a full stop. And the tip - once again - pointed directly at him.

Sandra cracked up, slapping a hand to her lips. Natasha giggled and traced her fingers down the length of his spine, patting him once on the small of his back. “Truth or dare?”

Taking a deep breath, Jesse rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know. Dare.”

“A dare,” drawled Natasha. The girls shared a glance. “Interesting.”

He narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like that look. “W- What?”

“We dare you,” Natasha faced him, leaned in and lowered her eyes to that of a whisper, an ominous smile forming on her plump lips, “to let us give you a little makeover.”

“What... What do you mean, makeover? Like, new clothes?”

“Well...” The redhead stood up, sashayed over to the table and grabbed her purse from the sofa, rummaging around inside it. “Not clothes. I’ve only got some shadow, Tash.”

His girlfriend scrambled to her feet. “I’ll get everything from upstairs. Don’t move!”

With a huff, he tried to rise. A sharp heel dug into his shoulder and forced him to stay where he sat. He winced, grabbed it, tried to pry it off. Sandra leaned closer, snickering.

“Not a chance, white boy,” she sneered. “Oh, you’re gonna look so pretty.”

Natasha stormed down the stairs and into the living room, her tits bouncing with her every step. “Got it! Oh my god, this is gonna be so much fun! You’ll look great!”

She approached. Jesse stifled a whimper.

Tits. Lips. Brushes. Pens.

They were everywhere, surrounding him, clawing at his clothes and putting things in his face. He didn’t move a muscle, stiff as a stick and glued in place. To his right, Sandra combed his hair out of the way and powdered his cheek. To his left, Natasha grasped him by the chin and held him steady, applying something to his lashes with a short brush.

The air stank of cosmetics. Their perfume mixed with the substances they put on his face, creating a cloud of feminine scent that drove his cock to twitch in his trousers.

“Close your eyes,” whispered Natasha, picking up a small, oblong bottle into which she dipped a new brush. He obeyed, and a moment later, she worked his eyelids while her friend trapped his hair with a bow and finished applying foundation.

Their bodies touched his; a breast here and a hip there. Clenching his fists, he tried to concentrate on something else, anything else, sensing blood rushing into his prick. They were gentle, soft and supple, patting his face with little cotton pads and circling his eyes with sticky pens. He let his eyes come up, blinked a few times and stared right into a milky cleavage no more than an inch from his face. Turning pale, he held his breath.

“You’re going to look so cute,” giggled Natasha, reaching for her purse. The moment her tits left his face, he sighed, squishing his thighs together in an attempt to choke his boner. She searched for a while, then took out three small cylinders, placing each one on the floor.

“All right.” She snapped her fingers, drawing his attention. “I’m going to let you pick the color you like best; this is full panic, and this is pillow talk, and this is candy yum yum.”

He wrinkled his nose; they were a bright shade of pink, a normal shade of pink and a deeper shade of pink. After a moment of silence, he shrugged and bit his lip.

“Oh my god!” Sandra broke into a fit of laughter. “Look at him! He’s adorable!”

“You’re so cute right now,” agreed Natasha, plumping her lips and kissing the air. “All right. If you can’t decide, then I will. Hm. We’ll go with candy yum yum. Pucker up.”

Flushing with color, he did as she demanded, plumping his lips. Sandra put her hands on her hips and watched with a cruel smile. His girlfriend squinted, grabbed his chin and put the gloss to his kissers, then trailed his lips with it a few times until she was satisfied.

“There we go. We’re all finished. Oh, Jesse. You look beautiful. Purse your lips. No. Not like that. Like this. That’s how you do it. Oh my god. You’re gorgeous.”

He touched his face with a shaky hand and let slip a gasp. A thick layer of makeup now coated his features. Smacking her lips, Sandra nodded in approval.

“You’re right.” She crossed her arms. “He does make for a pretty girl.”

Lowering his eyes to the floor, Jesse tried to stand. He didn’t like the attention, didn’t like the way they looked at him, didn’t like the way he smelled or the way they smiled.

“I’ll... I’ll be right back, I just need to use bathroom.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” said Sandra. The sharpness in her voice froze him halfway to his feet. “We’re in the middle of the game, and I don’t wanna wait for you.”

“She’s right,” Natasha chimed in. “It’s her turn. You’ll have to wait for yours.”

“But I have to pee,” muttered Jesse. No one paid him any attention.

Sandra spun the bottle. This time, the tip pointed at Natasha.

And so the game went on; luck finally smiled upon Jesse, and over the next few rounds he learned plenty about the women with whom he shared the floor.

He discovered that Natasha - who always picked truth - had had six boyfriends, sex with at least a dozen men and - after a moment of hesitation - tried anal four times.

Jesse, unable to grasp the idea that the flawless princess sat next to him had let anyone put it up her butt, blushed and looked away. Sandra noticed; the smile on her face cruel and mischievous as she kept prying details out of her friend, also flushing with color.

His luck didn’t fade: the next six rounds were dominated by the two women, taking turns to pick truth. Natasha proved cold and merciless with her questions. He learned that the sassy redhead had wet her bed well into high school, that she had been bullied for her freckles since kindergarten, and that she had never before had a white boyfriend.

Sandra retaliated, forcing Natasha to admit that she had slept next to her mother until the age of twelve. And that she sometimes ate meat when no one was looking.

When Jesse finally quit worrying about where the bottle would point next, his luck ran out. The girls looked at each other, wicked smiles creeping onto their lips.

“Hm.” Natasha placed a finger on her lips, pondering. “Okay. I want you to...”

“It’s my turn,” interrupted Sandra. “Okay. Truth or dare?”

Trailing a finger across his cheek, Jesse frowned and muttered: “T- Truth.”

His girlfriend threw her head back with a groan. “You always pick truth.”

“No, I don’t,” snorted Jesse. “I’ve only picked truth once!”

“She’s right,” agreed Sandra. “You always pick truth. I guess you’re just too much of a chicken to pick dare. Fine. Whatever. Ruin the game if you want.”

Uttering a deep, long-drawn sigh, he gave up. “Fine. I’ll pick dare.”

They lit up simultaneously. Sandra scooted over to her pink-haired friend and leaned in, covering her lips with the flat of her hand as she whispered. His girlfriend widened her eyes and whispered back, and then they both cracked up and stared at him with hungry eyes. “Okay.” Natasha nodded. “We have a dare for you. But you’ve to promise to do it.”

“I’ve... I’ve already promised to do it,” muttered Jesse. This stank of trouble.

“For real this time,” added Sandra. “You’ve to swear you’ll do it.”

Natasha dipped her head in agreement. “No matter what. Swear it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is... Is this something dangerous?”

They snorted with laughter, looked at each other and shook their heads.

“All right,” said Jesse with uncertainty in his voice. “I... I promise.”

“Stay here!” They both leapt to their feet and darted into the hallway. Their feet scurried up the staircase, and a moment later they ran around upstairs.

Jesse swore and sank his head into his shoulders. A flash of light caught his attention. The headlights of a car flooded through a window. When they didn’t move, he frowned and found his feet. He had to check it out. The lights blinded him, and he saw nothing.

The girls burst through the doorway, snatching his eyes from the car. They were lugging along two big travel bags, stuffed to the brim with what looked like...

“Clothes? Are those... Clothes?”

They giggled. Natasha ran over, stole his hand and dragged him into the middle of the room while her friend tugged the travel bags next to the TV table, a few feet away. Then they stepped in front of him, hands on their hips, eyeing him over and waiting in silence.

Jesse flicked his gaze between them and swallowed loudly. “W- What?”

“You’ll have to take your clothes off,” said Natasha, biting her lip.

“It’s not like we can dress you while your wearing yours,” added the redhead.

“I... I can’t take my clothes off here,” gasped Jesse, bewildered.

“You promised,” they reminded him in chorus. Gritting his teeth, he threw the bags a quick glance, then the girls. They were on the verge of cracking up.

For a fleeting moment, he considered telling them off. This was nuts. Here he was, with a face full of makeup, and now they wanted to dress him up? No. This game had gone way too far, and now he’d put an end to it. And then he remembered Sandra. And her pictures.

“T- Turn around,” he stammered, grabbing the collar of his shirt. It didn’t appear as if they were going to listen, but then they slowly turned away, giggling playfully.

He stripped to his underwear, discarding his hoodie and jeans. Cupping his hands over his crotch, he blushed. “All- All right. I’m... I’m ready.”

They twirled, taking in every inch of his bare skin. Natasha let her eyes drop, and Jesse twitched, his hands squeezing his crotch. She smirked, shamelessly staring.

“Awh,” giggled the redhead. “Look at how shy he is. I thought you two...”

“Not yet,” Natasha cut in, gnawing on her lip and looking him over. “This is the first time I see him without a shirt. I wonder what you’re hiding down there, big boy.”

Suppressing a growl, Jesse frowned. “Can... Can we get this over with?”

Natasha shrugged. “Sure. We’ll have to decide what you have to wear.”

They spent the next half hour checking out various outfits. He didn’t have to try them on; his girlfriend yanked them out of the bag and held them against his naked frame while Sandra sat on the couch and gave her opinion. It was an excruciating process: they took their time with each outfit, and then Sandra repeated the procedure of shaking her head and having her friend pull out another. His terror didn’t end there; Natasha seemed to glide closer and closer with every outfit, and her breasts kept brushing against his skin. Jesse shut his eyes and tried to think of something else, something to keep his thoughts off milky skin, girly perfume, plump lips, ample tits, and soft asses.

It didn’t work. His cock flooded with blood. He swore under his breath.

There must have been at least fifteen different outfits in those bags. The top contenders consisted of a white top and a pair of jeans, and a yellow T and a black set of shorts.

“He’s not going to fit in any of my dresses,” insisted Natasha. Her friend rolled her eyes and tried to convince her to try, but his girlfriend came to the rescue. She kept refusing.

“He won’t fit in those either,” groaned Sandra, pointing at the black shorts. “Your ass is twice the size of his, Tash. They’ll fall off. Let’s try a dress. How about...”

“That’s the point,” snapped Natasha. “I’ve outgrown them, moron.”

She held up the outfit to his frame and looked quizzically at Sandra. The judge crossed her arms and studied him, along with the outfit, in silence.

“Fine,” she said finally. “But if he’s wearing that, I have one condition.” Natasha didn’t say a word, cocking her eyebrow.

The redhead bared her teeth in a wicked grin.

Jesse huffed. This couldn’t be good.

Breasts. Sandra wanted him to wear breasts.

He touched them. They were large, heavy, soft, pancaked in his hand. ​No one can say a bad word about her creativity, ​thought Jesse, pulling a face​. They feel... They feel real.

Of course, they weren’t real breasts, but a pair of balloons she had discovered in one of the kitchen drawers and held under the tap until they were threatening to burst. They weren’t hot or cold, but lukewarm and comfortable. He couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel against his skin when the shirt squished them in place. Sighing, he looked into the mirror.

They hadn’t gone easy on the makeup. When Jesse had negotiated himself to ten minutes in the bathroom so he could change without their prying eyes, the first thing on his mind was to check out his new look. They had giggled at him for the past hour. He had to see it.

The foundation matched his skin, obscuring any inconsistencies on his face. They had highlighted his cheekbones; they were more prominent now, giving his face a rounder look. A purple shadow circled his eyes, the result of deftly applied eyeshadow. Voluptuous eyelashes fluttered whenever he blinked. He turned his head slightly to the left and puckered his lips, frowning at how plump they looked, sparkling underneath the overhead light.

He almost looked... Cute. The thought made him blush, a crimson color flushing up on his flawless cheeks. But he couldn’t deny that they had known what they were doing, had known what to put where to accentuate the parts of him that most resembled a... Woman?

He trailed a finger down his chin, small and narrow, then up his buttony nose and further, to his shapely eyebrows, thickened and given a natural sharp upwards arch.

I look like my sister. H​ e squinted, turned left and right, eyed himself over. ​I can... I can see Emma in the mirror. Maybe when she was a little bit younger, but... I look just like her. Laughter. Downstairs. Jesse snapped out of his thoughts and recalled where he was, and why he was there. Taking a deep breath, his gaze drifted to the clothes that lay on the sink.

He went with the shirt first, struggling to fit into the skin-tight T. And then, out of curiosity - and only curiosity - he reached for the balloons, stuffing them up his shirt. That’s what Sandra had demanded, after all. He had no choice. That’s what he told himself.

He didn’t get the chance to see how they’d feel. When he tried it, the bloated balloon slid down his belly, slowly, and ended up falling out after a few seconds. He had figured the shirt would be slim enough to keep them in place on its own, but no matter how many times he tried they simply refused to stay on his chest. ​Fine, t​ hought Jesse. ​No balloons.

And then he had an idea. A very dangerous idea.

Checking that he had locked the door, he searched the bathroom with his eyes. The toilet stood in the right corner, between the sink by the right wall and a shower to the left. It was a small room; Jesse knew there was a bigger one downstairs. A washer stood in the left corner closest to the door. Perched between the washer and the shower stood a basket.

It was full of laundry. After a moment of hesitation, Jesse darted over.

A pair of jeans lay on top, shielding the rest of the contents. Forming a picture in his mind of how the pants lay, he tossed the pair aside and dived into the basket. It didn’t take long to find what he searched for. Underneath a grey sleeveless top, he spotted the black tip of something thin and stringy. Biting his lip, he tugged it out and held it up.

A bra, sewn with lace, black in color and with large cups. Carefully placing it on top of the washer, he was about to put the pants back when he spotted something else.

“Well,” whispered Jesse to no one but himself. “If I am going to wear a bra...”

He delved back into the basket, hooking his fingers into something soft and thin that felt pleasant to the touch. He pulled it up to reveal a black thong with a ribbon on the front, a wide crotch and a thin string. The panties had stains on the front, and for a moment he considered putting them back, then reminded himself that beggars can’t be choosers.

At least they match​, he thought, arranging the laundry as it had been before he snatched the lingerie and ran over to the mirror. He stared at himself, pondering, then began to dress. Stepping into the panties, he pulled them up his thighs, the soft fabric tickling his bare skin. It was a snug fit, the velvet crotch caught his junk and hugged it softly. The string on the back did not feel as comfortable, slipping up between his buttocks and kissing his butthole. He gasped, grabbed the sink and shuddered. In the confines of the tight panties, his cock throbbed with need, beginning to grow. Ignoring his boner, he reached for the bra.

It took some time before he understood how to put it on. When he finally realized how to do it, he clipped the bra on his chest and turned it around, positioning the cups before putting his arms into the shoulder straps to secure it properly. His next step: the balloons. They proved just as problematic. He pushed and stuffed on the bloated bags until they somehow ended up in the cups of his bra. They were huge, threatening to pop out at any moment. After trying to adjust them, he realized they were simply too big and gave up, dropping his arms to his sides with a huff and staring at his massive bosom.

He didn’t think they’d look good, that they’d work. But now, eyeing himself as he twirled in front of the mirror, he gulped as he realized he resembled his sister even more.

He grabbed his own chest and gave the balloons a squeeze. They were soft and supple; he could flatten them under his palms, and when he let go, they’d pop back out and quiver. He uttered a shaky sigh, grabbed his shirt and tried to get dressed. The yellow T became a struggle now that his makeshift breasts were in the way, but when he finally managed to pull it down properly, the fabric stuck to his skin and locked the fat water balloons in place. The bra prevented them from sliding down, and also pushed them out, causing them to strain his shirt to the point where it looked like they might rip the fabric.

He almost gave up trying to put on the shorts. At first, he thought the thin, short, black pair wouldn’t fit, but as he kept trying, he realized it was his ass getting in the way. Unlike his boxer shorts, the thong stayed in place no matter how much he tugged and yanked. He fought the shorts, jumping up and down on the floor, trying to squeeze his butt into them.

They finally slid over his bottom, flattening his balls and hugging his butt.

Brushing a loose strand of hair out of the way, he spun around to check out his rump in the mirror. The black fabric barely reached the top of his thighs, revealing the entirety of his hairless, pale legs. It clutched his crotch, and his butt, and went all the way up to his belly button. Jesse had never worn anything like this before; they must’ve been designed to give the wearer a wedgie. His cock had no room to grow; the shorts plastered to his skin suffocated his swollen nub and put it back to sleep. It couldn’t even budge, the fabric gluing it to his pelvis. To his horror, his buttocks filled out the back of the shorts nicely. Natasha hadn’t worn them since she was fifteen, but they fit him perfectly, giving his backside the appearance of a thick, plump, perky bubble butt. He blushed at the mirror.

I can’t go downstairs like this. H​ e eyed his butt, shook his hips, gave it a slap and watched it wobble. ​No. No way. Nothing will make me go down there. There’s just no way...

Someone pounded their fist against a doorframe somewhere in the house. Hurried footsteps could be heard downstairs. The front door flew open. Angry voices followed.

Narrowing his eyes, he snuck over to the bathroom door and twisted the key as gently as he could muster. He pushed the door open, pausing momentarily when it creaked, then stuck his head out through the crack and peered at the hallway downstairs. Sandra stood there, her back turned to him, sneering at someone, hands on her hips. It proved impossible to see the new arrival from where Jesse hid. He’d have to make his way downstairs.

Natasha ran into the hallway, her breasts bouncing, bringing along a glass of wine. She darted out of sight to hug the stranger. Sandra clenched her fists.

His girlfriend reappeared, tugging along the surprise guest. Jesse choked, his eyes going wide and his stomach clenching. He shut the door, felt his face, touched his clothes.

“No,” whispered Jesse to himself. “No. Not him. Not now. Please.”

If the girls had not distracted him, Jesse would have seen that the headlights streaming in through the window earlier belonged to a black truck.

And not just any black truck either.

Chapter Eight

Someone knocked on the door.

Jesse flinched, slamming the back of his head against it. He swore; there was no way whoever stood outside hadn’t heard that.

“Jesse?” He sighed. It was only Natasha. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he drawled, gritting his teeth and pondering his options. There was no way around it: if he was going to get out of this situation, he’d need help. “Just... Just a second!” Scrambling to his feet, he grabbed the key, then hesitated. He didn’t know if she was alone. He could be out there, waiting, a predator preparing to pounce its prey.

“You’ve been in there for ages. Can I come in?”

“Uhm...” Jesse hesitated, pressing his ear to the door. He thought he caught a pair of voices downstairs, but as far as he knew, they could’ve put on the television.

“It’s my bathroom, Jesse,” huffed Natasha. “Open up.”

“I trust you,” he whispered, shutting his eyes and sucking in a quick breath. Then he twisted the key and opened the door quietly, preparing for the laughter to come.

It never came; his girlfriend was alone, and she paled upon seeing him. “Oh my god,” she said, her lips taking the shape of a circle. “You look... You look so cute!”

Rolling his eyes, he took her by the elbow and pulled her inside. Before she had a chance to utter a word, he shut the door and twisted the key, swallowing audibly.

She narrowed her eyes, looking from the door to him, stirring the remains of wine left in the glass she held. He didn’t deign her an explanation, taking her by a hand and looking deep into her eyes. For a fleeting moment, he considered aborting his plan. But she looked so pretty where she stood, her pink hair cascading down to the small of her back, her pale cleavage beaming underneath the bright, white overhead light.

“All right,” said Jesse, reminding himself that she was his girlfriend, that they were partners, that she was on his side. “There’s no time to explain. I need your help.”

She left the bathroom first.

“They’re not here,” she said, having checked the hallway and the bottom of the stairs. She offered him a hand, and once he took it, dragged him down the corridor.

“Mom isn’t home,” she explained, opening up a door to a room where he had never been before. “This is her bedroom. Do you see that window over there?”

He nodded, taking in his surroundings. The walls were painted white, the color of the rest of the interior. A king-sized bed stood squished between two large closets, and in front of it, on the other side of the room hung a wide flat screen attached straight to the wall. A couch sat in the corner, a bundle of feminine clothes scattered across the seats.

“The roof of our garage is just beneath it,” she continued. “You can climb out the window and jump. From there you can climb down to the roof of our car. And then you’re out.”

She clicked open the window and pushed it out. Leaning out, he threw a glance down at the garage below. It wasn’t far, only a few feet below. But there was a gap, and while it was only a few inches wide, he suddenly no longer felt like making the jump.

“Are... Are you sure you can’t just sneak me out the front door?”

“They’ll see us,” retorted Natasha. “Besides, even if I might have been able to distract them while you slipped out, they’re probably starting to wonder where we are, and we might run into them on the way down. And then you won’t be able to go through with your plan.”

“All right,” sighed Jesse, climbing up on the window ledge while gripping the walls on either side to the point where his knuckles paled. His legs shook uncontrollably; the result of a quick peek down at the ground so many feet below. The gap was so narrow he’d probably get caught between the two walls even if he missed the oh-so-short jump, but no matter how many times he tried telling himself that, his legs refused to stop trembling.

“Jesse...” A hand found his shoulder, fingers digging into his yellow T.

He gave her no response, trying to man up and control his breath.

“If I had known he’d been bullying you for so long...”

“It’s fine,” he said and thought that the tone of his voice probably came off a little harsh. “It- It wasn’t bullying, really... We- We just can’t stand the sight of each other, so...”

“You know what I mean. If I had known how he has been treating you...”

“I actually exaggerated a bit,” laughed Jesse nervously. “It’s- It’s both our faults. I- I just really have to leave so we don’t... I don’t know... Start throwing punches at each other.”

She nodded. “Thank you. For being the bigger man.”

“Yeah,” drawled Jesse, feeling the string of his thong rub against his butthole. “I’m... I’m going to try to make the jump now. I’ll... I’ll see you tomorrow, I suppose...”

“Wait!” called Natasha. Jesse almost fell out the window.

“I... I don’t know where I am supposed to tell them the bottle came from.”

“I don’t know... Tell them Uber drove it here.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not sure if Uber delivers alcohol...”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Jesse, shuffling around with difficulty to look at her. “You’ll think of something. The important part is that they drink it. And that you don’t.”

She flashed a sweet smile. “Fine. Go.”

“Thank you,” said Jesse, giving her a smile of his own. “I... I didn’t tell you anything because I... I really like you, Natasha. And I didn’t want you to think any less of me.” “You’re an idiot,” she snapped, reaching up to trace a finger across his painted lips. “I don’t care why he’s blackmailing you, and I don’t care what Sandra has on her phone. If we’re going to be dating, then we’ll have to look out for each other. You, and me.”

“You’re amazing,” whispered Jesse, shaking his head in disbelief. You’re not like any other girl I have ever met. I think I might be in...”

“Go,” she said, dismissing him with a wave. “I have to go back downstairs. You can make it up to me tomorrow, Jesse. Now go, go, go!”

He nodded slowly, turned to face the gap and braced himself. Before he had a chance to jump, the door slammed shut behind him. Closing his eyes, he edged his heels to the tip of the ledge, swallowed... And attempted the jump.

His feet hit the roof with a thud, so hard he almost tumbled over. He cleared the gap by at least a few feet. Uttering a shaky sigh, he ran over to the edge, dropped onto the roof of the car and fled down the street into the dark of night.

A man came walking down the sidewalk.

A young guy, probably in his twenties, wearing a red do-rag, a white wife beater, and loose, worn-out jeans. A dog strolled by his side, a big beast of a rottweiler. It was on a leash, a silver chain wrapped around its thick neck. Jesse still stopped abruptly, casting a glance at the sidewalk across the street. There were no lights there, but it beat the alternative.

Before he set out to cross the road, the man gave a sharp whistle. Jesse froze, one foot on the walkway and one foot on the street. The man was approaching at his own pace, waving his arms nonchalantly. Trotting along, the massive rottweiler set its eyes on Jesse.

White teeth flashed in the darkness. The man, whose skin was pitch-black, stepped into a circle of light cast from a nearby lightpost, and now Jesse could see him clearly. He was younger than expected, not much older than him, as tall and lanky as a twig.

“What up,” said the stranger, coming closer. The dog stood its ground, bared his teeth and growled. The beast was probably heavier than his owner. Jesse swallowed, seeing the man eye him up and down with hungry eyes. And then he recalled what he was wearing: the skin-tight, yellow T squishing a pair of hefty water balloons, and the pair of black shorts so small and tight they were digging into his crotch and slipping up his ass.

“H- Hi,” squeaked Jesse, gluing his eyes to the floor as he began to circle around the pair. A pair of headlights popped up in the background, forcing him to step onto the sidewalk. The Rottweiler kept growling at him; flattening its ears and baring vicious fangs.

“You scared of my dog, girl? Eh? Where you going? Come say hello.”

Jesse grimaced, stopped, faced the black man and his sneering beast. The stranger grinned, waving him over. Jesse threw a look down the street.

“I- I’m sorry. I really should get going...”

“He ain’t gon’ bite you, girl.”

The rottweiler trudged over as its owner loosened the leash. Jesse, shaking visibly, stuck out a trembling hand and touched the dog on the top of its head, patting it softly. The rottweiler no longer growled, but still looked tense, staring up at him with cold eyes.

“Demon,” said the stranger. “That’s his name.”

“That’s,” Jesse uttered a shaky sigh. “That’s a very nice name.”

He snickered. “And that’s a very nice booty.”

Jesse was glad he kept out of the light. If the stranger could’ve seen him properly, he would’ve seen him flush with color. Widening his eyes, he said nothing, pretending to occupy himself with scratching the dog on the side of its neck. The stranger crossed his arms over his chest, oblivious to the awkward silence in the wake of his comment.

“Where you gon’ go this late, babe? You on your way home?”

Jesse nodded, squirming on the spot in an attempt to hide his backside from the man’s prying eyes. It didn’t work; whenever Jesse turned, the man followed, shamelessly trying to look at it. The beast tightened the leash, sniffing his thighs. Jesse frowned, backing up.

“I- I really should get going,” he stammered, taking a quick step back to avoid the exploring snout trying to dip between his legs. “It’s- It’s been so nice meeting you, and... Demon.” “Nah, hold up, girl,” said the stranger, dipping a hand into the depths of his pocket. Shaking his head, Jesse forced forth a friendly smile and insisted, but the man followed suit. His smile disappeared, his features hardening as he pulled out a stack of green bills.

“You and that fat booty up for some fun? What do you say, babe?”

Jesse backed into a light post, swallowing audibly. The man had stopped coming closer; his dog yanked on its leash, trying to reach Jesse. It forced him to keep some distance, holding the beast back with a single hand while with the other he offered out the money.

“I’m... I’m okay,” squealed Jesse, flinching every time the big beast tugged on his leash. The stranger said nothing. “T- Thank you though, I- I am very flattered!”

“A’ight,” said the stranger, paying his dog little attention, evidently used to that sort of behaviour from his demonic pet. “You better get going then, you silly little tease.”

“T- Thank you,” whispered Jesse, circling the light post and hurrying down the sidewalk. The black man watched him go. He felt eyes on him. He felt them on his butt.

Mark peeped out from behind the door.

“S- Sorry,” he stuttered. “D- Do I know you?”

Rolling his eyes, Jesse rubbed his forehead with a long-drawn-out sigh. His friend had turned pale at the sight of him, stammering and fiddling with his glasses.

“It’s me, Mark. You know me.”

“Jesse?” He let the door slide open a few inches further and leaned out to eye him up and down. “Is... Is this a joke? Why are you dressed like a woman?”

“It’s not a joke,” said Jesse, a touch of annoyance clear in his voice. “It’s a long story. But I didn’t come here to talk about that; I could really use your help, Mark.”

His friend frowned, looking at him suspiciously. “Did... Did Jesse put you up to this? You can tell him that if- if anyone tries to pull a prank on me, I- I will be calling the police...” “It’s me!” Jesse threw his head back with a groan. “Don’t you recognize me?”

“Y- You have...” Mark fell silent, dropping his gaze. Jesse felt a sudden rush of embarrassment, clearing his throat and hiding his protruding bosom with an arm.

“Yes,” finished Jesse. “I have tits. But they’re not real. It’s me, Mark!”

The living room was visible from the doorstep; Jesse threw a quick glance through the window and saw his friend’s mother sat on the couch, bathed in the blue light of what was clearly their television. A bowl of popcorn stood on the TV table.

“I don’t believe you,” said Mark, snapping his attention away from the window by attempting to shut the door. Jesse swore, darting up to the door and forcing a hand inside.

“Wait! Stop! Ngh- Jesus! I’m not trying to break in, you idiot! It’s me! Jesse!”

The door slid open. Jesse winced and rubbed his arm. His friend scowled.

“Fine,” he continued after a while. “Tell me something only Jesse would know.”

“I don’t know,” drawled Jesse, trying to think of something. “All right. In second grade, when we went biking down by the stables, you fell in horse dung and all the girls there laughed at you. You made me swear never to tell anyone. You cried for the entire ride home.” Mark clenched his fists. “So he told you that, did he?”

“Oh my god.” Jesse dragged his palm over his face. “Are you deaf? You know my voice, you idiot! You know how I speak! Do I sound like someone else? Listen to me!”

“Voices can be mimicked,” snapped Mark. “For instance, I can do Darth Vader.”

“And this is what happens when you watch a million movies alone in your room,” sighed Jesse. “It’s me, dumbass. Natasha dressed me up. It’s... It’s a long story.”

“Oh, okay. You’re Jesse. Great. Now go away. I’m busy.”

Gritting his teeth, Jesse threw another glance through the window. His friend’s mother still sat there, waiting, looking around for her son. They were watching a movie together. “Look.” Jesse bit his lip, then let it pop free once he caught his friend staring with wide eyes. “I didn’t come to ruin your evening. I... I really need your help, Mark. I know I said some bad things, and I know I probably hurt you... There’s just no one else to ask.”

Mark snorted. “Yeah? And that’s my problem, because?”

“It’s not,” huffed Jesse. “It’s not your problem; it’s my problem. But I still need your help. I don’t know anyone else who can pull this off, Mark. I need you.”

“You need my help,” sneered Mark. “After everything you said. Great.”

“Look... I’m sorry.” Jesse sighed. “I guess I was on my period.”

A hint of a smile crept up on the lips of his friend. Neither of them said a word. And then the hint of a smile grew, took the shape of something resembling a smirk.

“That time of the month, eh?”

“You know it.”

Mark slipped a giggle, adjusted his glasses and stepped out on the porch. “Why did she dress you up like this? You... You look like a real woman, Jesse. A real one.”

“Well, I’d hate to look like a fake one. Listen... There’s no time.”

His friend let out a deep sigh. He finally shrugged. “Fine. Let’s hear it.”

“Like I said,” began Jesse, “there’s no time to explain. What I need you to do is going to sound insane, but I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Mark?”

A pause. A moment of hesitation. A short nod.

“All right.” Jesse took a deep breath.

“I need you to break into a house.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Mark, his jaw halfway to the floor. “Plural, Jesse. Two houses. Not one. Two cases of breaking-and-entering. Two causes for arrest!”

“I’m not asking you to actually break in there,” explained Jesse, trying to reassure his friend by grabbing his shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. “Sandra lives with her parents. I imagine they’re home, and still up. Knock on the door; come up with some excuse. It’s not important what you tell them; what matters is that you gain access to her computer.”

“And once I have committed a criminal act,” retorted Mark, “what then?”

“Then,” Jesse paused, seeing his friend staring at the pair of melons trying to burst out of his shirt. Frowning, he shook him until he looked up, then continued: “I want you to reset it. All of it; every hard drive you can find. If there’s an external one, reset it. If she has several computers, reset those. Don’t leave a single file; delete everything.”

“B- But she might have nice memories on her hard drives,” muttered Mark, and now it was his turn to frown. “I can’t delete those. Maybe those are her only copies.”

“She’s blackmailing me,” growled Jesse. “Your childhood friend. Me!”

“I’ve a better idea,” said Mark, crossing his arms over his scrawny chest after adjusting his wide-brimmed glasses. “Tell me which files you want me to delete.”

“It’s not that simple,” said Jesse, flicking his fingers in front of his friend’s face after catching him staring once again. “Jesus, Mark! My eyes are up here! Look... It’s not that simple. I don’t even know if she has those files on her computer. But if I am going to go through with my plan tonight, I have to make sure there’s no backup anywhere. You have to do it!”

“On one condition,” said Mark, and cocked an eyebrow.

Jesse winced. He didn’t like the look his friend gave him.

“You’ll have to play Battlegun Four with me tomorrow.”

Unable to contain a smile, Jesse scoffed and nodded his assent. “Tell you what: if you manage to do this, I will even buy us a pizza. And a six pack.”

Mark smirked. “Suppose I will have to charm my way into their houses. Have you ever seen either of Tyrone’s parents? Is his mother hot? Must I wear my finest shirt?”

“If your finest shirt is black. Tyrone lives alone. You’ll have to break into that one.”

“I’ll try,” said Mark, pulling a face. “And you’re sure he won’t be there?”

“Positive,” confirmed Jesse. “I have them - and their phones - right where I want them. On that note, does your mother still need her pills to fall asleep?”

“She does,” said Mark, narrowing his eyes.

“Good. I need a few of those pills. Not many; four ought to do the job. And see if you can’t snatch a bottle of vodka for me while you’re at it. I’d forever be in your debt.”

Mark widened his eyes, put a finger to his lips and shushed him. “Jesus. Keep your voice down. I’m going to have to ask you what you plan to do with this, Jesse.”

“It’s simple,” explained Jesse. “Tonight I break free.”

He had left the bottle on the doorstep.

Jesse, swallowed by the darkness in the garage, stared intently at the door. He peeked out from behind the red Audi convertible by which he squatted. It shielded him from sight.

The door slid open; Jesse felt his heart skip a beat. A pink head of hair appeared from behind the door. He uttered a shaky sigh, watching Natasha pick up the bottle, look around for a moment before heading back inside. She knew he was here. Just not where.

She also knew what he was about to do. She was going to help him do it.

“An hour,” muttered Jesse, sliding down on his ass and cocking his head against the side of the car, sighing softly. “An hour. That’s what she needs. Guess I have to wait.”

He tried to slip a hand into his pocket, didn’t find one, patted his shorts and his naked thighs in an attempt to locate what simply wasn’t there; his phone lay in his pants, and they, in turn, lay in the bathroom upstairs inside the house on which he was currently spying.

Stifling a groan of annoyance, he set to counting. Upon reaching one hundred, it dawned upon him that one hundred didn’t even make two minutes. He groaned again.

Halfway to a thousand, he realized he had no idea how many seconds made up one hour. It probably took him half an hour to do the math. He kept going, taking no chances.

In the kitchen, someone flashed the lights twice. The signal.

He got up, stretched his legs and pulled a face as the tight fabric of his panties clamped down on his balls. His sister had once told him that once you’ve worn a thong for half an hour, you start to forget that you’re even wearing panties at all. That was partly true; he hadn’t felt the string for a while, but now Tyrone may as well have been giving him a wedgie. Checking his surroundings, Jesse bit his lip and ran for the door.

He opened the door slowly, as quiet as a mouse, then slipped inside and closed it. It gave off a brief creak, and he froze to the spot, holding his breath and looking around.

No one burst out from the living room. No one ran down the stairs. Shutting the door properly, he stepped towards the first doorway without taking his shoes off. They - a white pair of sneakers - had rubber soles, and thanks to those he was able to move without making much of a sound. He reached the doorway and threw a quick peek inside.

The bottle caught his attention, emptied of its contents. It stood on the TV table, and on the couch behind it lay Sandra, spread out on the sofa, one leg over the backrest. Her eyes were closed, and her perky breasts heaved up and down with every calm breath.

“She did it,” whispered Jesse to no one but himself, though a part of him hoped Natasha would catch the sound and come out from wherever she dwelt.

The redhead stirred, rolled over on her side and hugged a pillow. A red lock slid down her forehead and fell to her nose, though she didn’t seem to notice, her sleep too deep.

Sucking in a quick breath, Jesse snuck upstairs. For a fleeting moment, he contemplated fetching his phone, then decided against it; he’d rather not open too many doors.

He checked his surroundings. His girlfriend was nowhere to be seen, and her absence was becoming worrisome. He looked at the end of the corridor, then at the door that led to her room. ​I should find her first, J​ esse thought. ​Objective number one: find her.

Keeping an eye on the door at the end of the hallway, he tried the one to her room. It was open; he made a big enough gap to slip inside, then shut it as quietly as possible.

He froze, seeing the shadow of a large man spread out upon the mattress behind the princess curtains draped between the wooden posts. Tyrone lay there.

He slept. There was no doubt about it. Sneaking over to the edge of the mattress, Jesse threw a glance into the makeshift tent. His bully lay on top of the sheets, his bulky arms propped underneath his head, wearing his trousers, but no shirt. Something rectangular and thin dwelt in one of his pockets. Swearing obscenely, Jesse crawled onto the bed.

The mattress sank beneath his weight. On all fours, Jesse crept up alongside the black frame and paused, taking a moment to steady himself. With a shaky hand, he reached into the pocket. He stopped suddenly, seeing something twitch beneath the trousers.

A thick bulge strained the coarse jeans, moving beneath the fabric. Jesse put a hand on his chest and gave a long-drawn-out sigh. ​Calm down. That’s just his big, black...

A door slammed open in the hallway. It sounded like the one to the bathroom. Jesse jerked and looked up, expecting Natasha to appear any moment now. She never did.

Narrowing his eyes, Jesse bit his lip and looked back down at his bully.

Tyrone was wide awake, staring at him in utter silence.

Jesse screamed, slapping a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. Before he had a chance to scramble away, powerful fingers locked around his throat with an iron-like grip.

Digging his nails into the dark forearm, Jesse tried to pry the hand away. The black man scoffed, easily pulling Jesse down to hover an inch from his face.

“Time to make you a woman, white boy,” snarled Tyrone.

Jesse gulped.

Chapter Nine

Tyrone tugged and pulled on the black shorts.

They were tight, and didn’t come off easily, sticking to his hips. Jesse struggled against his bully, who held him by the throat, squirming on top of his strong frame with wide eyes.

“You gon’ have a sloppy butthole by the time I am done with you,” snickered Tyrone, flinging Jesse onto the mattress. His bully spread his legs, crawling between them.

Jesse gasped, squeezing his thighs shut. He bounced on the bed as Tyrone grabbed him by the shorts, dug his fingers into the fabric, tried to shake him out.

It worked, and a moment later Jesse was desperately trying to hide his buttcrack. His bully paused, effortlessly flipping him over on the side and slapping his hands out of the way. “You little bitch,” growled Tyrone, eyeing his ass. “You put on panties? Just for me?”

“No!” Jesse squealed, grabbing the sheets, trying to pull himself away. His bully snickered, hooking his fingers beneath the thong, dragging him backward with ease.

“You ain’t going anywhere,” he scoffed, hoisting Jesse up by the string of his panties. “It’s about time your butt paid some much-needed reparations, you little sissy.”

Jesse howled, gritting his teeth in response to the wedgie, kicking his feet in an attempt to escape. His bully dropped him suddenly, crawling on top of him to hold him down. Jesse heard him unbuckle his belt and pull down his zipper, the breath of his bully hot against the nape of his neck. He tried to roll over, turn around, but a hand pressed down on the back of his head, squishing his face into the mattress. Tyrone pressed his crotch against his backside and leaned closer to growl into his ear. Jesse trembled underneath.

“There’s no coming back from this,” he sneered. “You ain’t ever gon’ feel like a man again by the time I am done with this fat ass. I’mma enjoy fucking your manhood away.”

His bully took a handful of his hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look up. Jesse tried to squirm, shook his head, whimpered and complained; then went quiet and widened his eyes as something thick, heavy and warm brushed across his bottom.

Parting his lips, Jesse froze, feeling the black booty shorts slide further down. His butt popped out of the fabric with a quiver, leaving his ass bare and on full display.

“No,” whined Jesse, tensing in response to a shameless hand grabbing one of his buttocks and giving it a squeeze. “I- I don’t wanna be a woman. Please!”

He objected in vain. The black man rose to his knees and leaned across the bed, reaching for the nightstand. Yanking open the drawers one by one, he rummaged through them. He didn’t let Jesse get up, giving him a sharp push whenever he tried to move.

“If you ain’t gon’ let me get the lube,” - Tyrone gave him a swat on the ass - “I’mma put it up your ass dry, bitch. This is for your own good, girl.”

Gritting his teeth, Jesse jerked beneath his bully. Tyrone seemed to have found what he had been searching for, retrieving an oblong bottle with a squeezable tip from the top drawer. He squeezed out a load of sticky-looking goo into the palm of his hand, threw the bottle on the bed and tugged the panties aside. Pulling a face, Jesse twitched as the hand dipped between his cheeks, rubbing the gooey substance between his buttocks.

“So soft,” drawled the black man, scooping up a lump of lube on the tip of his finger before pressing it against the white boy’s butthole. Splitting his lips in a gasp, Jesse clenched his buttcheeks around the digit, trying in vain to prevent it from circling the rim of his sphincter before pushing inside. Jesse groaned as the finger slid up his butt all the way to the knuckle, coating the velvet walls of his hole in the sticky, slippery fluid.

“Oh my goood,” cried Jesse, flushing with heat. His asshole squeezed down on the intruding finger, chewing on it, trying to bite it clean off. His bully laughed mockingly, slowly retracting his digit. He paused with the tip still inside, wriggling it, forcing a moan out of Jesse. The black man snorted, and Jesse whimpered, rolling around and kicking his feet.

His ass spat out the invader. Jesse shuddered. Another load of lube was squeezed out of the bottle, but this time, the sticky goo was not applied to his butt. He widened his eyes as Tyrone slid forward, taking a seat on the back of his thighs, rubbing his cock.

“I’mma give you two choices, little girl,” - Tyrone pressed the plump tip of something hot and heavy against his bum, parting his buttcheeks - “You can whine and bitch if you want, or you can push back and moan like a whore. If you don’t want me to tell your pretty little girlfriend about how I broke in your sissy ass, I’d suggest you do the latter.”

The swollen tip of the black beast slid between his buttocks, prodding his butthole. Jesse jerked and bit his lip with a blush. “Don’t- Don’t tell her. Please!”

“You gon’ be a good girl?” The black man slapped the belly of his dick against one of his asscheeks. “You gon’ beg for my big, black dick like the little white whore you are?” Twitching, Jesse gulped. “Y- Y- Yes.”

“Your sissy ass belongs to black dick.” Tyrone pressed his cock against the bottom of his buttcheeks, slipping the tip between them with a gentle thrust of his hips. The thick thing slid up his ass, slithering over his butthole like a lazy snake. Tyrone put his hands on the pale buttocks, giving each a squeeze, kneading them both like dough. “Say it.”

The thick cock throbbed against his asshole. Jesse yelped, a fiery blush flaring up on his face. Tyrone pulled back slightly, bringing the tip of his dick to the sphincter, the mushroom-shaped head flattening the puffy pucker. Jesse groaned.

“Say it,” repeated the black man, applying pressure. Digging his nails into the sheets, Jesse stifled a cry, terrified that he’d alert Natasha. His butthole resisted; the cock sank into his ass without slipping in. Jesse shot his eyes up when he felt the sheer size of it.

“M- My,” began Jesse, slipping a short squeal. Tremendous pressure was building in his backside; behind him, his bully kept pressing his cock deeper and deeper. His ass battled fiercely with the invader, fought to keep it out. The black man kept pressing.

“Your sissy ass,” Tyrone leaned down to growl it into his ear, “belongs to black dick. You gon’ take this big, fat, black dick, and you gon’ do it with a smile on your pretty face.”

“M- My sissy ass,” moaned Jesse, wrapping his arms around a nearby pillow and hugging it to his chest, “b- belongs to black dick- Ow! Take it out! Take it out!”

The cock won. It slipped inside with a pop, and then his tight butthole embraced it, the rim of his asshole biting down on the plump tip, pulling it inwards, trying to swallow more. A shock of pain shot from his backside and up his spine; the massive shaft felt like it was trying to split his asshole. It was enormous as it slid deeper, his bottom forced to take another inch before his bully fell forward, planted a hand on either side of him and froze.

“Shit.” His bully panted. “You’re so tight, girl. Ngh- Fuck.”

He gave a thrust. Jesse, crying out in pain, bit down hard on the pillow to stifle the sound. A few inches of cock slid up his butt. Tears welled up in his eyes.

“There’s no going back now,” growled Tyrone, his lips touching the nape of his neck. “You’re a bitch now, Jesse. I’mma make your sweet ass mine.”

He rolled his hips, circling his dick, trying to stuff another inch into the pale ass. Jesse squeezed his eyes shut, planted his face into the pillow and whimpered; his butthole was on fire, clenching down upon the shaft only to be split open by the thick girth. It kept spasming around the length, trying to push it out, then suddenly seeking to suck it in. With each gentle thrust, his bully fed his butt another inch, growling on top of him.

It was too big to handle; Jesse bit down on the pillow, raising his ass each time the black man withdrew in an attempt to ease the stinging pain. Tyrone picked up the pace, slapping his pelvis into the quivering bottom, driving Jesse into the bed with each thrust.

“You’re... Too... Big,” moaned Jesse, forced to part with the pillow when his bully wrapped his arms around his tummy and hoisted him up on all fours, hugging him tightly while humping him from behind. Jesse collapsed; his face smacked against the mattress. He was left to lay there, overpowered and manhandled, fucked harder and harder up the butt.

“I’ve always known you were a little bitch,” sneered Tyrone, pumping his hips into the plump boy butt. “What do you think sweet little Natasha would say if she saw you now?” Arms wrapped themselves around his, then caught the back of his thighs. Two strong hands grabbed him by the nape of his neck, and then they rolled over; Tyrone on his back on the bed and Jesse on top of him. Jesse, groaning at the cock in his ass, squirmed but found himself pinned in place with his legs high in the air, arms trapped. Weightless in the grip of his bully, he was thrown around with ease, unable to squirm, move, budge.

Tyrone began to thrust, pummeling his pelvis into the soft bottom with sharp, rapid movements of his hips. The thick cock grew in his butt, throbbing and spilling a trail of precum deep in his ass. The sheer girth broke in his backside, forcing the brown eye to accept more and more of the massive shaft, his spinchter weak and sloppy.

Jesse trembled, tossed up and down with each thrust. His head gave a jump with every hump, and he crossed his eyes and bit his lip, feeling his butt chewing on the shaft. His bully stopped thrusting, beginning to press deeper. To the sound of a long-drawn-out shaky sigh from Jesse, Tyrone pushed himself balls deep up the tight boy butt.

Jesse was no longer afraid Natasha would burst through the door. He was no longer afraid Sandra would appear, camera-in-hand, ready to snap another picture. The sensation of the thick log lodged in his ass drove away all thoughts and left his mind blank. All he could do was gnaw on his lip, an attempt to take his mind off the pain in his backside.

“Good girl,” whispered Tyrone, releasing him from the iron-grip. Instead, he wrapped his arms underneath his thighs and lay back, leaving Jesse to rest on his muscular frame. He kept his legs up, slowly beginning to thrust once more. Jesse trembled, unable to contain a shaky moan as his bully pulled out of his ass with a slow, drawn-out motion.

The plump tip twitched in his butt, another load of precum leaked into his ass. Digging strong fingers into the belly of his thighs, the black man lifted him off so that his cock sprang free from his butt with a wet pop. Jesse stuck out his tongue, his asshole winking.

Tyrone toyed with him, lowering his ass towards the throbbing erection, stopping just short of penetration before doing it again. Jesse didn’t give much of a response, whining softly whenever the mushroom-shaped tip prodded his butthole. His ass, weak and battered, kept trying to close, twitching as it gaped. A trickle of something sticky and wet leaked out of his bottom; Jesse expected his bully to reprimand him, but was instead given a gentle pat on his posterior before the fat dick poked his brown eye once more.

“Call me daddy,” snickered Tyrone, moving the ass he held to and fro, rubbing the spasming butthole back and forth across the bulbous tip of his big, black cock.

“D- Daddy,” whispered Jesse, parting his lips at the tease between his cheeks. His bully laughed mockingly, his voice far away. Jesse didn’t care. Forced to take a seat on the dick, he bit his lip hard and put his hands on the chiseled set of black abs over which he was hovering. Tyrone let him, descending the butt on his shaft, giving a manly grunt as the tight ass ate inch after inch of his dick. Jesse grimaced, digging his nails into the stomach upon which his hands dwelt, uttering something akin to a meek squeak.

They rolled over. Jesse, flung sideways with the dick still in his butt, had an arm wrapped around his throat. His bully thrust a few times, flattening his buttcheeks, humping him sideways, then scrambled up and threw Jesse onto all fours. Before Jesse had time to steady himself, a foot found the back of his head, pushing his face into the mattress.

Towering over his bottom, Tyrone grabbed him by the hips and snarled. Jesse felt his dick bend awkwardly, stuck deep in his butt, unable to straighten out. The black man steadied himself, and a moment later began fucking Jesse in the ass like a wild beast, his fat, black balls slapping against the pink, small nuts. That hurt; Jesse squealed, but the foot on his head smothered his cry, pressing him deeper into the sheets. The world went dark.

The black man bounced up and down, slapping the pale ass with his pelvis, drilling the softening butthole faster and faster, fucking Jesse into the mattress.

The sound of a creaking door. Soft footsteps making their way across the carpet. Jesse didn’t care, oblivious to anything that was not a fat, black dick punishing his butt.

Tyrone dug his fingers into his waist, assumed a better position and pulled Jesse back on his cock, wielding his ass like a sheath for his sword. There was no longer a foot on his head. It had disappeared when his bully changed his stance. Scrambling up on all fours, Jesse cocked his head and arched his back like a cat, slipping a long-drawn-out moan.

His ass flattened against the pelvis behind him. A sharp swat on his buttock caught his attention. Jesse winced, began to move. He knew what his bully wanted. Chewing on his lower lip, he pushed back and drew forth, fucking the big, black dick with his butt. He twerked, shook his ass, threw around the dick stuck in his butt by the tip.

Out of sight, Tyrone snickered. Jesse paid it no attention.

“Good girl,” drawled his bully, much closer now. “Milk that black dick.”

Stretching out across the mattress, Jesse stuck his butt high in the air and sat back, his ass swallowing up the whole shaft. When he reached the base, he clenched his pucker as hard as he could, trying to push his bully over the edge, draw cum from those fat balls.

The black man put his hands on his ass and kneaded his cheeks; Jesse felt the doughy flesh spill out between the groping fingers. Giving his hips another shake, he drew forward until only the very tip remained in his butt, leaving his butthole to chew on the plump head.

It throbbed suddenly. Jesse gave a soft sigh, trying to please the black length by thrusting his ass back and forth, slowly at first, then faster and faster, picking up the pace.

Gritting his teeth, he struggled with the cock, sitting back all the way until he had taken the whole length balls deep. He was about to pull back out when his bully gave a thrust, cutting his rhythm short, and then another, slamming hips into butt with such force Jesse was thrown forward on his face. Fingers clasped around his throat, a powerful yank tore him up from the mattress and forced his back into the rock-hard abs behind him. The other hand grabbed him by the chin, tightened around his jaw, tore his head sideways.

Their gazes met. Jesse blushed, mewled, tried to look away. Tyrone flashed a nasty grin and shook his head, slapping his pelvis against the quivering rump.

“You gon’ look me in the eye while I empty my balls up your butt,” said Tyrone, baring his teeth like an animal. Jesse whimpered, squirmed, tried to pry his fingers away. The girthy cock twitched and throbbed in his ass. Jesse froze, widening his eyes in anticipation.

Tyrone began to hump him from behind. He exploded with a roar. The black dick spurted a rope of hot, sticky goo deep up his butt. Jesse parted his lips and blushed furiously. It kept coming: rope after rope of nutbutter shot up his ass, filling up his rump. His bully held him in place, looking deep into his eyes. They were not the eyes he’d been expecting to see his first time. They were the eyes of a man, a real man, brown and hard, flashing with lust.

His butthole clenched and convulsed, milking cum out of the plump balls slapping against the back of his thighs. The big dick, buried in his butt, spasmed, dumping load after load up his butthole. His belly rumbled, and now the cock up his butt made sloppy squishing noises with every thrust. The big, black dick slid back and forth with ease now, his bottom overflowing with sperm. Sticking out his tongue, Jesse moaned like a whore, giving up in the firm grip. He quit struggling, ceased to move, allowed his bully to empty his balls without resistance. They were both wet with sweat, panting and trembling, locked in a firm, hot embrace. Tyrone slowed down with each thrust. The black beast softened.

“This is how you pay your respects,” he growled quietly. Jesse shuddered, cocking his head against his lover and leaning against his frame. His butthole ached.

The cock withdrew with a pop. Cum flooded out of his gaping asshole, trickled down the back of his thighs, formed a puddle on the sheets between his legs. Rolling his eyes into the back of his skull, Jesse groaned as the sticky nutbutter leaked out of his asshole. His butthole tried to clench, tried to shut, then suddenly spat two long ropes of sticky goo.

It drew laughter from his bully. And a feminine gasp from someone else.

Jesse jerked, widened his eyes, began to squirm. Tyrone let him go with a push, shoving him onto all fours before sweeping his arms from underneath him. With a yelp, Jesse fell on his face, and when he tried to push himself back up, his bully pinned him to the mattress. Someone approached the edge of the bed. Someone with big tits, wide hips and a head of pink hair. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her: doe-eyed and flustered. She covered her lips with a palm and said nothing, staring at them with her huge, emerald eyes.

“Look at your boyfriend now,” snickered Tyrone nastily.

She stepped forward slowly, her breasts heaving with every step. Their gazes met, and this time she was the one to look away first, dodging his woeful eyes.

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” she said, softly, under her breath. “It’s not your fault.”

“She’s right,” agreed Tyrone. “Your girlfriend just can’t resist black dick.”

“No,” whispered Jesse, shaking his head slowly. “No. Natasha...”

“I’m sorry, Jesse,” she repeated. “It’s just... You’re white.”

Chapter Ten

“B- But I love you,” pleaded Jesse.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” Natasha wrapped her arms around her tummy and looked down at the floor. “He... He told me to do it. I already said I was sorry.”

“Nah,” Tyrone shook his head with a snicker. “You ain’t getting off that easy, slut. She ain’t sorry, Jesse. She just ain’t used to hurting white boy feelings.”

She twitched on the spot, brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face and blushed. Jesse tried to look at her, tried to meet her eyes, but she kept dodging him, huffing softly.

“Tell him what you told me,” the black man continued. Before she had a chance to say a word, Tyrone grabbed Jesse by the hair and flung him forward. Taken by surprise, Jesse gasped as he was thrown off the bed, crashing into the carpet beneath with a thud. His girlfriend watched from above without a word, taking a short step back when he almost rolled into her feet. Gritting his teeth, Jesse hurried to cup his crotch, whimpering up at her.

“Go on,” prompted Tyrone. “Tell him. Don’t be shy.”

Jesse stared up at her with huge eyes. Wrinkling her nose, she gave a huff and shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest. His bully snorted, smirking.

“Your sweet little girlfriend loves to talk about you when she’s taking my dick, Jesse. She gets real creative when she’s pleasing my cock. Loves to call you names.”

“He’s making that up,” scoffed Natasha. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Baby dick,” snickered Tyrone. “That’s what she calls you when we’re alone. I ask her why she’s late, what took her so long. She tells me she had to get rid of baby dick first.”

“I- I thought you liked me,” whimpered Jesse, stifling a sob. She ignored him.

“Wimp.” Tyrone slowly stood up. “That’s what she calls you when I shove my finger up her fat ass. A wimpy, little white boy only fit to kiss my toilet bowl. Ain’t that right, slut?”

He drew her gaze with his approach, his massive flaccid shaft flopping around with his every step. She said nothing, watching him warily, nibbling on her lip.

“And then,” Tyrone stretched a hand out to cup her cheek, stroke her soothingly with his thumb and brush another strand of hair behind her ear, “there’s the time you told me you wanted to stomp on his little pink balls and suck on my fat ones while he cried.”

She gave a shaky sigh, splitting her lips once he prodded them with his thumb. Jesse lay between them, trembling, covering his crotch with tears in his eyes.

“Your girlfriend doesn’t care what happens to you,” continued Tyrone, flashing Jesse a wicked grin. “I could put you over my lap right now, spank your ass red and blue, and she’d just laugh at your sissy ass no matter how much you’d plead and beg.”

He shoved his thumb into her mouth. She threw Jesse an uncertain glance, then flushed up with even deeper color, wrapping her plump lips around the digit. His bully gave a victorious smile, exploring her mouth with his thumb, circling it, thrusting it deeper.

“She’s a dumb whore,” he scoffed. “She ain’t no classy little white girl. I’ve been fucking this slut for months, and she didn’t even bat an eye when I started fucking her mother.” Natasha cringed, squirmed on the spot, sucked on the thumb. It left her lips with a pop, left her to stand there with a stupid expression on her face. Tyrone broke the rope of spit attaching his thumb to her lips and wiped it off on her face. She purred, nudging his hand with the top of her head like an eager kitten begging to be petted.

Jesse clenched his fists, overcome with a wave of jealousy. He scowled at Tyrone, then at Natasha, but neither of them paid him any attention. She stared at him dreamily, and he reached out to grab her by the nape of her neck, pulling her in. Close.

She gasped, stumbling when her foot got caught under Jesse. His bully caught her, tore her against his naked frame and pulled her lips to his, forcing his tongue into her mouth. She froze to the spot, her emerald eyes full of uncertainty flicking to Jesse momentarily. The black man didn’t care, licking her in the mouth, taking a firm grip of her flowing hair.

The black dick was but an inch from her elegant little hand. Her fingers twitched, reached. A look was all Jesse could give her; he tried to beg her with his eyes, plead for her not to touch it. But she never looked at him. And then her lithe fingers grasped the thick shaft.

Tyrone gave a groan, kissed her, crawled his fingers down the small of her back to place a hand on her ass. He groped it, forced Jesse to watch as his fingers dug into the supple flesh, kneaded her bottom like dough. She moaned in response, her hand wanking the black cock, tugging on the skin with soft and gentle movements.

They split from each other. Tyrone pushed her away, grasped the hem of her pajamas and yanked it over her head. Jesse had never seen her without a shirt; the sight took his breath away. Her melons wobbled on her chest, squeezed upwards by a black lace bra which his bully made quick work off. He tore it open, and her breasts popped free.

Natasha backed up, tried to hide her tits behind her forearm. Her lover wouldn’t let her; she gasped when he grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked her head back.

“Let your sissy boyfriend have a look,” he mocked, slapping one of her breasts so it shook. It led her to gasp, lower her arm. “Let him see what he’s never going to get to touch.”

Jesse glared at them. The nasty smile on the face of his bully grew. He gave Natasha a firm smack on her other breast. Jesse stirred in response to her pained yelp, but Tyrone put a foot on his chest, pinned him down and forced the pink-haired girl to look.

“He cares about you,” he snickered. “You should reward him.”

She fell to her knees. Their gazes met, and once more she sought to look elsewhere. This time Tyrone stopped her, grabbing her by the chin and steering her emerald eyes towards Jesse, copping a squat to shoot her a whisper. She widened her eyes.

“No,” she pleaded, staring Jesse straight in the eye. “I don’t want too.”

“Why not?” Tyrone prodded her with an elbow. “It’s just a blowjob.”

Jesse blanched, watching his girlfriend trail her eyes all the way down to his crotch. She stared at the hands with which he hid his junk, wrinkled her nose and turned away.

“You know which one I would pick,” she muttered. Jesse whimpered.

“Nah,” Tyrone stood up, his black frame towering over the pink-haired girl. He thrust his hips forward, presenting her with his thick, black dick. “I want you to say it.”

She gave a long-drawn-out sigh, lowered her lush eyelashes and flushed up with color once more. “I- I don’t wanna suck him off... I- I wanna suck yours.”

The black man ran his fingers through her hair with a grunt. He threw Jesse a look, then began to turn around, guiding a wide-eyed Natasha towards his ass.

“Show me how much you wanna suck on my cock,” said Tyrone, slowly bending over to part his buttcheeks. “Hoy, bitch. Get up on your knees. Watch your girlfriend beg for it.” Scrambling to his knees, Jesse wiped a tear off his cheek.

She licked her lips.

They were so close; Jesse sat but a foot away from her. He knelt, and so did she, the black ass of his bully pressing back towards her pretty face. Her doe eyes fell upon the brown eye presented to her, then she cast Jesse a glance; quick to look away when he pleaded to her with his wet eyes and pouted his pink lips. After a moment of hesitation, her soft hands found the brown buttcheeks and spread them gently, the tip of her tongue appearing from between her glossy lips. Jesse whimpered, shook his head, pleaded. She didn’t care.

A deep grunt slipped out of Tyrone once the pale, pink-haired girl pressed her lips against his butthole. She kissed it softly with puckered lips, kissed it the way she had kissed Jesse on the lips. The girl withdrew with a moan and circled the rim of his shitter with the very tip of her finger, gnawing on her bottom lip as she watched it wink in response to her touch.

It was a mesmerizing sight; Jesse could barely believe his eyes. She looked so sweet where she sat, touching the asshole gently and giggling a bit when it twitched. In the corner of his eye, he caught Tyrone looking his way. His bully stared him down while Natasha played back there, parting her lips to prod the black hole with the tip of her tongue. As much as Jesse wanted to look away, he couldn’t take his eyes off of the voluptuous girl when she wrapped her lips around the butthole to suck on his sphincter, urged on by how the black cock between the legs of her lover twitched and throbbed. Her pale, plump cheeks went hollow as she sucked ass, her tongue appearing from between her lips to lap at the brown eye. He sat back, and she pressed her face into his ass obediently, taking a deep breath before the brown buttocks enveloped her completely. Flattening her swollen breasts against the back of his thighs, an obscene slurping noise soon betrayed what she was doing back there. The black man sighed with content, the dick hanging between his legs growing bigger.

She appeared a moment later, a layer of sweat now present on her flustered face. Pouting her lips, she blew a stream of air on his butthole, then delved back between his cheeks.

In sheer and utter defeat, Jesse watched in silence; watched the muscles in her jaw work hard as she worshipped the black butt, watched her little hand slide between his legs to work the girthy shaft that hung there. Natasha dug her tongue into his pooper, shut her eyes and shook her face, clapping the dark buttocks against her cheeks.

“This is what white girls will do for black guys.” Tyrone bared his teeth in a wicked grin and spread his buttocks even more. “And what about you, Jesse? You ain’t ever gon’ touch a white girl. They’d rather lick my ass than let a pussy boy like you have a go.”

Jesse trembled, gawking at Natasha as she rubbed her face up and down the crack of the black butt while she wanked the fat dick faster and faster. She was panting heavily by the time she withdrew, strands of pink hair glued to her sticky features.

“Do it.” Tyrone looked at her from over his shoulder, keeping his ass in her face. She crumbled under his gaze, her eyes settling on the carpet below. A sharp slap drew her attention immediately; Jesse jerked but fell still the moment Tyrone looked at him.

“Do it,” he repeated. Jesse widened his eyes at Natasha. By then it was too late; a glob of spit was already under way. She spat on his forehead. It trickled down his face.

“That’s what she thinks about you,” snorted Tyrone. Jesse parted his lips at Natasha, wiping his face with a shaky hand. For a moment, she looked at him softly, then swallowed and threw her face between the black buttocks, slurping on his butthole.

When Tyrone stepped forward, Natasha collapsed on the floor.

She gasped, heaving for her breath. Her fingers sought to grab him by the ankles, but the black man kicked his feet away before she could manage. When he turned around, she looked at him as if he was a god, her face a picture of obedience and reverence. Without a word, he snapped his fingers, and the pink-haired girl found her feet, wiping her lips.

Tyrone turned to Jesse, forcing Natasha to do the same. Cocking his head against hers, he shot her a whisper, sliding his fingers up her tummy to cup a breast. She gave a yelp when he squeezed it, bit her lip and stared apprehensively at Jesse, who blushed furiously under her gaze. She hesitated for some time, and then she held out a hand.

He obeyed at once, looking up at her with wet eyes, crawling forward. When he took her hand, she brushed a sticky strand of hair out of her face and fell to her knees, guiding him closer and closer until his face was but a few inches away from the black beast dangling between the hairy, tree trunk thighs of his bully. It twitched, drawing his attention.

A pale hand scooped up the shaft; Natasha weighed it in her palm, then looked to Jesse and let her eyes creep downwards. Jesse shook his head, squeezing his crotch.

“Let her see.” Tyrone puffed out his chest with a nasty smile, crossing his bulky arms and thrusting his hips forward. “Let her compare us. Take your hands away, sissy.”

Jesse didn’t know what made him obey, didn’t know if it was the strict voice commanding him to do it, or the emerald eyes staring at him expectantly. He did it nonetheless, folding his hands behind his back with a shaky sigh, revealing his own cock, throbbing with need. Natasha snorted, pressing a palm to her lips. She pulled a face, wrinkling her nose at his leaking nub. Tyrone drew her attention, prodding her cheek with the tip of his dick, and she flicked her eyes to that instead, measuring the black shaft, then the pink prick.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, oblivious to the dark dick poking her lips. “It’s...” Tyrone flashed a cocky smile. Jesse stared at her pleadingly.

“You’re...” Her hand fell from her lips. “It’s so tiny.”

“It’s... It’s not my fault,” whimpered Jesse, averting his gaze in shame.

“You’re right,” scoffed Tyrone. “It’s your mother’s fault.”

“For fucking a white guy,” added Natasha, parting her plump lips to give the black length by her face a soft kiss. “Can you even have sex with that... Thing?”

“Natasha!” He begged her but found no mercy. Her expression, once one of doubt, seemed to have changed the moment she lay eyes on his dick. What had resembled anxious uncertainty now gave way to haughtiness and a hint of... Disgust?’

“I... I love you, Natasha. I’ve always loved you. I thought we’d be...”

He trailed off, seeing Natasha turn away with a flip of her hair, smooching the belly of the black beast. A soft moan escaped her lips as she withdrew, looking up at Tyrone with hungry eyes, wrapping her fingers around his thick shaft. Steering the tip of his dick to her lips, she split them and leaned forward, embracing the bulbous mushroom with her mouth. Tyrone gave a grunt, cocking his head backward, closing his eyes.

Jesse, snivelling at the scene unfolding right before his eyes, wrapped a pair of fingers around the head of his cock and began to pull on it, whimpering with each wank.

“You’re so big,” whispered Natasha, withdrawing for a short moment to lap up a rope of spit dangling from the plump tip. She hoisted the shaft up, traced a fat vein with the tip of her tongue all the way down to the base, then pressed her lips against the hairy nuts. They throbbed, and she squealed with surprise, fluttering her lashes up at her lover.

Her ample breasts wobbled on her chest. Jesse jerked his prick faster.

“What a fucking bitch you are,” snorted Tyrone. Without taking his hand off his cock, Jesse met his gaze with wide eyes, blushing from his neck to the roots of his hair.

“He’s wanking to your dick.” Natasha giggled, rubbing the dark length while lapping at the tip like a kitten licking up milk. “He’s in awe of how huge you are.”

“I’m... I’m not,” wheezed Jesse, the pace of his breath picking up. Licking her lips, the pink-haired girl gave the black dick a final kiss, then pointed it his way.

“It’s so fat,” she continued, oblivious to the glare Jesse threw her. “I can feel it throbbing in my hand. This is a real cock. A big, black dick. And you’ve had it up your ass.”

They snorted at the same time. Jesse whined like a hurt puppy, fapping his prick as fast as he could. Tyrone took a step forth, his dick floating closer. No matter how hard Jesse tried to look somewhere else, the way the black beast twitched and jerked drew his eyes.

“I wouldn’t even suck your dick if we were trapped on an island, and you were the last chance I’d ever have,” Natasha continued, tugging on the dark shaft. A smile crept up on her pink lips, one that had not been there before. She was loosening up, becoming...

Becoming herself, ​thought Jesse, trembling before the cruel stare. Tyrone put a hand on the top of her head, ruffled her hair. She mewled in response, wanking his dick harder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, shuffling around to face her lover, taking a hold of her breasts and squishing them together. “I just... I just can’t take white boys seriously.”

Breaking at the knees, Tyrone dipped down to pop the head of his dick between the fat breasts. His rock-hard abs clenched hard as he drove the whole length of his shaft up the velvet crevice formed by the pale tits. She welcomed the tip of his dick with a kiss, then glued her eyes to his and let loose a long-drawn-out moan. It spurred his bully on, who began to thrust, knocking his hips against her breasts, drilling her tits.

“You shouldn’t have told on him, Jesse,” purred Natasha, squeezing her breasts around the fat shaft with a coy look on her face. “You... You only have yourself to blame!”

“I’m sorry!” Jesse pulled a face, feeling his balls pull up. “I’m so sorry!”

“Nah,” Tyrone shook his head, knocking the pink-haired girl back with each thrust. “Too late to say sorry, bitch. Now you gon’ have to watch me put a black baby in her belly.”

“A black baby,” gasped Natasha. Her green eyes flashed with lust.

“No! Please!” Jesse whined. “Please! I’ll do anything!”

The bed creaked as she bounced. The posts quivered, struggling to withstand the constant impact of the shifting mattress. The princess curtains fluttered with every thrust.

She bobbed up and down on the black lap, tossing her head back with a scream. He held her by the hips, slamming the ample-titted girl against his crotch.

They panted and swore. She clawed at his skin. He slapped at her flesh. They paused for a moment, embracing each other in a moment of sudden desire, pressing their lips together with a lewd moan and a manly grunt. Her pale butt flattened out across his dark lap, a trickle of feminine juice trailing down to the heaving black ballsack that lay between his thighs.

Tyrone did to Jesse what Natasha had done to him for so long already: he ignored him completely, forgot that he was even there. Black hands dug into the flowing locks of pink hair and yanked back the head of his lover, straining her delicate neck. He fell upon her chest and with eagers lips kissed the plump breasts and suckled on the stiff nipples. She moaned with pleasure, sinking her nails into the brown skin on his neck, drawing blood.

Jesse, hunched over on the floor, squirmed on the spot. The boner he was struggling to subdue bent painfully under his palms, and his knees - despite the softness of the carpet upon which he sat - had begun to ache. He sat no more than a few feet away, the stale air around him corrupted by the stench of their sexes and sweat.

Natasha rose, then fell, her plump butt slapping against his lap. It quivered and wobbled every time she slammed her hips against his, coming up for a split second to reveal the dark length - dripping with clear liquid - that split open her pink pussy lips and drove her to cry out without a care in the world. And between those cheeks, mostly hidden from view by the two pale moons guarding it from sight, her brown eye occasionally sprang upon view. It twitched and spasmed, its puffy rim winking his way, mocking him. It was a beautiful butthole, soft and smooth, surrounded on all sides by the milky skin which Jesse so desperately wanted to touch. A black hand suddenly swatted that ass, groped it, crept towards the crack.

“I- I can share,” squeaked Jesse, rubbing his throbbing nub. “I- I don’t have to be your boyfriend, Natasha... I- I just want to touch you. Please. Just once.”

They roared with laughter. She threw him a glance over a shoulder, staring at him with a haughty expression as she bounced. Her lover grabbed her, pulled her into his shoulder and picked up the pace of his thrusts, pounding her pussy from below. He flashed his teeth, the white grin standing in stark contrast to his pitch-black skin. Jesse whined.

“You’re a sissy bitch now,” sneered Tyrone, giving his lover three rapid thrusts to draw a squeal from her lips. “You gon’ serve black men. You ain’t touching no white girl!”

“F- F- Fuck,” drawled Natasha, clutching onto the neck of her lover as he started to pummel into her with such force she bobbed up in the air with each thrust.

Jesse fell silent, rubbing his twitching prick quicker and quicker. Natasha gave herself completely to his bully, submitted in his grasp. She quit moving her hips, collapsing against his muscular frame, hanging on for dear life as he drilled her furiously. Every moan she gave made him twitch. Every groan he gave made him cringe. It felt wrong to watch, but he couldn’t look away. The jiggling butt feet from his face was prettier than he had ever imagined it to be, and the tits bouncing on her chest hotter than anything he had ever seen before. She was soft, supple, smooth, sweet. She was plump in all the right places.

And a black hand kept groping her. As if she was just another piece of meat.

A piercing scream cut the stuffy air. Natasha pressed herself against her lover, tore his face between her tits and hugged the back of his head as if she was trying to smother him. She was trembling, choking, scratching. Her head fell backward, and she rolled her eyes back with a guttural groan, letting her tongue slip from her lips and caring not as it flopped up and down in rhythm with her eager bouncing. Tyrone dug his fingers into her back, gave a deep groan, pressed her down on his shaft so that her butt flattened on his lap. His face was buried between her breasts; they swallowed his features whole and muffled his moans.

The pair of black balls stretched out on the sheets throbbed, retracted. There was no mystery as to what was occuring. Jesse stifled a sob, a tear trailing down his cheek as he watched his bully empty the sticky contents of his balls into the girl of his dreams.

The girl he thought was his. The girl who should’ve been his.

“I’mma put a baby in your belly,” growled Tyrone, lifting her up with his hips. The speed of his thrusts slowed down. His balls twitched and throbbed. “I’mma knock your slutty ass up, so your sissy boyfriend can watch you raise my child. Ain’t that right, slut?”

“I want a baby,” gasped Natasha, clawing at his shoulders. “Knock me up!”

They quit fucking. Tyrone collapsed on the mattress, and Natasha followed suit. Her ass flew up when she tipped over, and the black dick lodged inside the pink pussy lips popped free. A thick stream of white goo erupted from her gaping gash, running down her thigh. Her cum-stained flower winked, expelling copious amounts of cum, trying in vain to keep it in. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she scrambled up on all fours, exhausted.

“C- Come,” she panted, tossing Jesse a glance and stretching a hand out his way. “D- Do you want to touch me? C- Come on, then. I’ll- I’ll let you touch me someplace special.”

The swollen pussy spat out another load of sperm. It dripped down on the fat beast of a dick shrivelling upon the mattress. Jesse fell on all fours and crawled forward as if he was hypnotized. The gaping gash, leaking nutbutter, chewed endlessly. He swallowed.

She wiggled her hips, her buttocks clapping softly. “C- Come get your dinner.”

“T- Thank you,” stammered Jesse, crawling between the black thighs, taking a seat a few inches away from the battered pussy. “We- We don’t have to date. I- I just want...”

A pale foot found his face as he leaned in, keeping him at bay. Widening his eyes, Jesse tried to slip past it, but she pushed him away with her sole. Away from her pussy.

“Woops.” She cracked up. “I’m sorry. I forgot that you’re white.”

“No,” begged Jesse, watching the bubble butt sway as his girlfriend crawled away. She rolled off her partner with a smirk, slapping his dark thigh, pointing at his balls.

“Actually, I think this is your dinner,” she giggled. “Come get it, Jesse.”

Wetting his lips, Jesse swallowed a sob, leaning in.

The fit, black man moaned while Jesse tongued his balls.

Epilogue

Jesse pointed his rifle at Mark.

Hidden in the thick undergrowth, he crept forward and took aim. His friend was far away but stood still. He also had his sights on something, his eye peering through his own scope. Jesse kept sneaking closer, and once he was finally within reach, took aim once more.

“Damnit!” Mark threw his controller on the floor. “We agreed we wouldn’t kill each other until it was just the two of us left! Damnit, Jesse! This is the third time!”

“It’s a death match,” retorted Jesse with a bright smile. He steered his character past a burning car and crouched by a corner. The sound of a single shot betrayed the location of the last player; Jesse had a rough idea of where he was, but could not see him yet.

“You idiot,” sneered Mark, hurling himself at Jesse, who yelped, fell sideways on the sofa and struggled to hold the controller high up in the air and out of reach.

“Get off me, you psycho!” Jesse planted his hand on the face of his friend, flattening his nose as he tried to shove him away. “You’re just angry because you lost to a girl!”

They both froze, staring at each other in silence; a silence broken by the sound of a shot from the TV speakers. The screen turned red with blood, his avatar lay flat on the ground. A moment passed before either of them said a word. Shuffling back to his side of the sofa, his friend cleared his throat and reached for the controller. Jesse rolled his eyes.

“It’s fine, Mark.” He moved closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’re best friends. You don’t have to tread lightly around me. Just because I have breasts now...”

“I’m just not used to it,” Mark interrupted. “That’s- That’s not what I had in mind.”

“Well, we’ve spent a lot more time together lately,” said Jesse, resting both hands and his chin on the same shoulder, smiling casually. “You’ll get used to it soon.”

“I was never good at talking to girls,” said Mark, adjusting his wide-brimmed glasses. “And sometimes, when I look at you, I forget who... I forget who you used to be.”

“I’m not a different person, dummy. I’m still Jesse. Well, Jesse with tits.”

“And a fat ass,” Mark reminded him. Jesse rolled his eyes and struck at his crotch, giggling when his friend caught him by the wrist and threw his arm away.

“So,” Mark continued after a moment of silence, “how’s it going with Emma?”

Jesse shrugged. A new game had already begun. He shuffled around on the couch and cocked his head against Mark’s shoulder to watch him play. “It’s easier now. She’s never home anymore. Always out with her cool friends. No time to bully me.”

“What about your mom? And your dad? Are they still the same?”

“Mom doesn’t really care,” said Jesse nonchalantly. “She won’t admit it to dad, but I think she’s always wanted another daughter. She’s taken me shopping three times.”

“So I am guessing you haven’t been able to change his mind.”

“No.” Jesse shook his head, softly, against the shoulder. “But you know how he is. He’d vote for a bag of potatoes if it promised to kick all black people out of the country.”

“Well, you’re not black.” Mark squinted at the TV. “You’re a trans- Damnit!”

Jesse cracked up, watching the avatar belonging to his friend tumble off a cliff. “It doesn’t matter. You know his type. He’ll never accept me. I don’t even care. One more year, and I’ll be out of the house. I just have to finish my treatment first. Actually...”

He broke off, fetching his phone from his pocket. With a groan, he dragged himself to his feet and brushed down the yellow, skin-tight T he was wearing. “It’s late. I have to go.”

Mark frowned. “But- But you’ve only been here for an hour, and...”

“Nope.” Jesse shook his head. “Stop. Not happening. Last time I agreed to stay a little bit longer, you made me play like twenty more rounds with you. I have to go to work.”

Mark gave a long-drawn-out sigh. “Fine. I should get going too. Sandra wants me to come over. I think she wants me to... I don’t know... Take out the trash.”

“Well.” Jesse shrugged. “Better get going. Don’t want to keep her waiting.”

“It’s your fault,” snapped Mark. “You’re the one who made me sneak into her room in the first place. If I hadn’t broken into her house that night, she wouldn’t even know I existed.”

“I didn’t know she was on her way home, idiot. I thought she was asleep!”

Mark pushed up his glasses with a frown. “Get. But drop by tomorrow.”

“I will,” giggled Jesse, grabbing his purse from the couch, flinging it over his shoulder. He spun on his heels, but froze to the spot when his friend let out a sharp whistle. Rolling his eyes, Jesse threw Mark a blank stare, and a moment later flipped him off.

His friend winked playfully in response. With a shake of his head, Jesse scoffed and walked into the hallway, stuffing his stocking-clad feet into a pair of high heels.

The cab driver drove off down the street.

The trip set him back twenty bucks. He’d need another twenty to go home; the walk was far too long to be considered an option, and he had his doubts he’d be in any sort of state to walk after an evening out on these streets. Sighing, he set off down the sidewalk.

Paint flaked off the worn-down buildings looming on each side of the street. Rusty fences kept barking dogs at bay. Cramped apartments stretched for as far as the eye could see. If Jesse hadn’t been here before, he’d have wondered why the streets were so empty. But by now, he had become familiar with the projects. And its rules.

Keep your head down. Stay away from the ATM. Hide your jewelry. Forget about bringing your car; it’ll be gone by the time you’ve rounded a corner. Be polite. Don’t stare. If you do look at anyone, you better be prepared to apologize. Oh, and sway that ass.

Uttering a shaky sigh, Jesse put one foot before the other, sashaying down the sidewalk with his eyes on the asphalt and his hands clutching his purse. A flock of women sat on the stairs leading to one of the complexes he had to pass by. They scowled at him, elbowed each other, pointed and giggled. He picked up his pace, darting past the stony staircase, not slowing down before he was able to round a corner and escape their line of view.

The horn of a car blared. Jesse twirled on the spot, seeing a weary Toyota roll in his direction. The driver was alone, and Jesse recognized him when he pulled up to the curb. It was a bald, fat man; Jesse knew he went by the name of Darnell, and had seen that it was him immediately because of the fat, gold chain he was always wore. It hung from his plump neck, dangling on his broad chest as he rolled down the window and leaned over.

“Yo, Jessica.” The man waved him over. “Your ass lookin’ peachy tonight.”

Jesse huffed and took a quick glance at his surroundings, dragging his feet over the pavement all the way up to the car. The man in the Toyota grinned, flashing the silver grill he wore across the upper row of his teeth. He searched through his car.

“Hi, Darnell,” said Jesse softly, leaning against the side of the vehicle with a sigh. He waited patiently while the black man patted down his pockets and checked the glove department. It took at least a few minutes before he gave up, raising his hands in the air.

“I ain’t got anything on me, sweet cheeks. I’mma have to pay you next time.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s not how it works. You have to pay me up front. You still owe me from last Friday, Darnell!”

“What?” The fat man frowned, narrowing his eyes. “That some bullshit. I ain’t gon’ listen to your little hissy fit, girl. Stick your pretty face through the window right now.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Jesse obeyed, muttering under his breath as he bent over and stuck his head through the open window.

“You have to pay me next time,” he muttered. The black man ignored him, undoing his belt buckle. Jesse rolled his eyes, waiting patiently as Darnell struggled to get out of his massive jeans, his large belly knocking an empty can of soda out of the cupholder. He tugged his trousers down to his knees, then kicked them off. It cost the massive man some effort to shuffle into the passenger seat. When he finally did, Jesse leaned forward, stretching his pale, little hand out for the black beast that lay flaccid between the thick thighs.

Darnell turned away. Before Jesse had a chance to grasp the cock, it slid out of his reach as the man in the car used the dashboard to spin himself around in the seat. Jesse, parting his lips, widened his eyes as Darnell presented him with his fat, black, hairy ass. A moment later he looked over his shoulder, grunting and spreading his buttcheeks casually.

“Yo, white girl. I don’t have all day. Get to it.”

The stench of sweat reached Jesse, who pulled a face and whimpered. The man in the car didn’t care, backing his ass up further, shuffling into a more comfortable position.

“I- I thought you wanted me to suck your cock,” muttered Jesse, staring with wide eyes at the black butthole twitching and winking inches from his face. “C- Can’t I do that instead?” “Nah, bitch.” Darnell snorted. “You gon’ lick my ass clean. Twenty bucks.”

Jesse bit his pink, sparkling lip. “D- Do you promise?”

“Twenty bucks,” the black man confirmed, patting his own ass and snapping his fingers at Jesse. “C’mon. I ain’t got all day. Put those cocksuckers to good use, white girl.”

Pouting at Darnell, Jesse hesitated for a moment, then gave a shaky sigh and wriggled further through the window. He placed his hands on the black buttocks, helped the fat man keep them spread, and stuck out his tongue. Grimacing, he got to work.

The fat, black man moaned while Jesse tongued his butthole.

The door slid open.

He hadn’t seen her for weeks. He hadn’t heard from her, hadn’t spoken to her. A swollen belly jutted out from between the flaps of her leather jacket, straining the pink top she wore beneath the black fabric. Her hair was tied up in a pony tail, a single, curly strand of pink hanging over one of her bright, emerald eyes. She crossed her arms in silence.

Jesse didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t expected her to be the one to answer the door. At a loss of words, he held out a stack of bills wrapped in a yellow rubber band.

She took it without a word, stuffing it down her prominent cleavage. Someone came running down the staircase. She drifted to the side, leaving some space for the pale redhead who suddenly popped up in the doorway. She cocked an eyebrow, chewing on a piece of gum. “Oh,” Sandra said after a moment. “It’s just you. Tyrone! Come downstairs!”

Jesse frowned, squirming on the spot, wrapping his arms around his tummy. Heavy footsteps sounded from the staircase. Sandra moved out of the way, and Tyrone soon took her place. The moment he saw Jesse, a nasty smile crept up on his black lips.

“How much,” he turned to address Natasha, “did he give you?”

“Not much,” she retorted with a shrug. “Forty bucks?”

“S- Some of the customers said they’d pay me next time,” stammered Jesse. “A- And the last time I refused them service, t- they were your friends, and you g- got angry...”

“Gah! Shut up!” Sandra, wrapping her arms around the waist of her black lover, stuck her head out from behind his massive back. “You’re always complaining.”

“You’re supposed to bring me fifty bucks,” added Tyrone. “Every night. No exception. If you haven’t made fifty bucks, keep fucking dicks until you have.”

“It’s past midnight, and,” Jesse swallowed. “I’ve- I’ve fucked so many.”

Natasha cracked up, not bothering to hide her amusement. Sandra smirked, flicking her gaze with some interest between Jesse, and the man she was hugging. The black man grinned and gave a shrug, then held his massive hand out expectantly.

“You didn’t bring enough,” he said. “You know what that means.”

The girls giggled, sharing a glance.

“No,” Jesse whispered, softly, under his breath. “N- No, Tyrone. Please. I’ll- I’ll bring you fifty bucks tomorrow! I promise! I won’t stop before I have fifty! Tyrone, I swear!”

The nasty smile faded away. The black man took a sudden step forward. Jesse flinched and hurried to lay his hand in the dark palm. He followed his bully inside with a whimper.

“Oh my god,” giggled Sandra, wafting a hand in front of her face as they walked by. “You literally stink of dick, Jessica. You really have to stop giving freebies.”

“She won’t,” said Natasha. She shut the door, took her friend by the arm and followed the pair into the living room. “She likes it. She just doesn’t want to admit it.”

Tyrone dragged him over to the sofa. The girls kept standing on the floor. Months ago, he had sat where they stood, rolled dice and spun a bottle. With his girlfriend.

“I’mma give you fifty,” said Tyrone, and before Jesse had the chance to object, a strong tug threw him off his feet. The moment he fell upon the lap of his bully, powerful fingers tore his shorts down his thighs, revealing his pale buttocks and the black string in between.

“No! Daddy!” Jesse widened his eyes, beginning to squirm, rock back and forth and kick his feet. A hand was placed on the small of his back, pinning him down effortlessly.

The girls were laughing, giggling at each other and watching the scene unfold with huge eyes. Tyrone patted him on the butt a few times, gave it a gentle slap.

“You keep bringing me too little,” he said. “Fifty spanks ought to remind your sissy ass. You gon’ count every single of them, and if you slip up, I’mma have to start over.”

“Actually,” Natasha threw in. “Give her sixty. She got off too easy last time.”

Gritting his teeth in preparation for the pain to come, Jesse looked at his old girlfriend with wet eyes. She met his gaze, a cruel smile taking shape on her plump, pink lips.

He howled with each spank. The girls roared with laughter.

The End