Guinea Pig

I'm beginning to get a bad feeling about this.  I'm a student here at uni, and I make some extra cash as a guinea pig for some of the medical pracs.  You choose the prac, and some are really good, like being paid to sleep.  This prac caught my eye cause it sounded almost too good.  The notice on the volunteers board read:

Fit guys wanted to test human growth stimulator drug for the Phys Ed research unit.  Testing involves 1 hour daily sessions over 2 weeks, all accomodation and meals provided.  $2,000.

Not one to look a gift horse in the eye, I signed up.  I'd not been to the Phys Ed research dept before, each group kept to themselves, and i'd heard some jokes about them being a bunch of cowboy jocks.  No problem for me, I guess showing off in front of other guys was one of the perks of being a guinea pig.  I'm about 6'1", blonde, broad shoulders, v-taper, solid muscles from playing school and college football and I've got a swinging 8" dick which keeps most girls happy. I'm flattered when I get checked out by other guys, I know I look hot, but I'm 100% straight.  In fact, I was known as a bit of a stud around campus, I'd fucked over 100 girls, since 15,  so I counted myself a bit of a dicksman.  I'd done some modelling gigs too when I was younger, and left school when I turned 16.  When I turned 20, I found out my ex-girlfriend from school had fallen pregnant to me and secretly had a son, now 5.  I dropped everything and tried to get her back, but her parents wouldn't let me near her, calling me a dumb muscle jock.  So I went back to school, got a shit-house job and tried to settle down for her.  We were together until I was 29, when she caught me dicking our neighbour, Cheryl, and kicked me out.  My son was 14, and already a tough sports-nut, like me.  She took custody and I haven't seen him since, but he's 17, an adult soon, so I'm finishing college to prove what I can be.  Still after the divorce with no qualifications I was broke, and study takes time and money, so I take what jobs I can.  That's why I do the medical trials, even though I'm too old to be doing this shit.

The 2 week session fell over midterm break, and I heard another 2 guys signed up, although I haven't seen them.  In the lead up, I had to sign all kinds of release forms with all sorts of measurements (everything from my bicep to my dick) and questions (like how often I came, what I fantasized over).  I also had to follow a special diet, and I wasn't allowed to cum.  Since I was basically restricted to eating protein, carbs and sports supplements, and not allowed to get off, I burned off all my excess energy at the gym - 5 times a week.  At the end of classes, I saw off my friends, and headed down to the P.E. labs, where I am now.

When I arrived, two spiky haired guys in lab coats, who looked like punks masquerading as doctors, escorted me to a soundproof room with no windows, which they said would be my home for the next 2 weeks.  There was a sleeping cot, some magazines and a toilet and basin in the corner, but no privacy.  The walls were mirrored, but I was assured the observation booths would be virtually empty during the break.  I tried to make small talk, but the punks barely spoke.  They told me to strip naked, and took my clothes away, leaving me alone in the room.  That's when it started to get wierd.

Another two guys came in, who looked younger - first year students or something, came in and told me they had to confirm all my measurements.  I was told to stand, legs spread, hands on my head, while they measured me.  I felt embarrassed, completely exposed to these two jock brats, as they poked and prodded me, wrapping their tapes around every part of my body, including my balls and dick (which quickly stood up like a flagpole).  I tried to explain I hadn't come, but they ignored me, one telling the other to note that I "was aroused by being touched by men".  They were rough, pulling the tape tight and moving me around, I felt like a piece of meat.  Then, they left and returned with a spray can and nozzle.  They made me stand spread eagled again and sprayed me, making me even spread my legs wide, and spread my arsecheeks to ensure the spray went everywhere.  It covered me from my forehead to my toes.  Wouldn't tell me what it was.  After a few seconds I felt some stinging, they barked at me to keep my arms by my sides.  Then they went out.  I stood there dumbly, feeling exposed and alone, for what seemed like hours.  Each time I went to move so much as a muscle, a voice on an overhead speaker told me to stop.  After standing there until my legs began to cramp, the guys finally came back in, with another thicker hose, and pointed it at me, turning it on.  Again no explanation.  The water hit me like a hammer, it was a fire hose, and blasted my skin.  When they finished, I was drenched, and looking down, I saw all of my hair, from my stubble to my legs, had been washed away.  Also the spray had turned my skin from its usual honey brown to a sickly yellowish colour, translucent and drawn tight on my body, so my muscles look freakishly defined.

Then the doctors came in - at least they told me they were the supervising doctors, and alternated questioning me and prodding me uncomfortably.  While one quizzed me on my personal hygiene, the other grabbed my swollen dick (still half hard), his nails catching on my sensitive foreskin, scraping against the head.  They made me bend over and grab my ankles as they poked my arsehole with their pens, commenting about elasticity.  "Squeeze as hard as you can" he barked at me.  I contracted my sphincter - why the fuck did they need me to do this - as I swear the young doc fucked my hole with his thumb.  I felt completely humiliated as they examined me.  The older doctor, who only looked about 22, particularly enjoyed slapping my balls and rubbing my sphincter, giving me a painful hard on.  He kept calling me "the subject", a collection of anatomical parts.  "The subject's sphincter is not very dialated" he said, and "It's penis is a little thin."  I was mortified.  The other only referred to me twice - once as the guinea pig, the other time just as 'pig'.

Now I'm strapped up on this x-section, my hairless pumped body exposed to the room.  All 6 that I'd seen before now entered, the two doctors holding a large needle filled with milky fluid.  "This is the growth hormone" they explained, and then, without even waiting for my reaction, the four came around me, one covering my mouth to stop me screaming, as the others held various parts of my body still for the doctors to make injections.  Some in my chest, my lats, delts, dick, balls, everything.  As I said, a very bad feeling about this.  One was apparently supposed to be monitoring how much fluid he injected in each part.  "Wait a sec" he said "you've got the dosage wrong, it was 9ml for each pec and only 5ml for his balls.  I started to ask what was happening but couldn't speak for the hand over my mouth.  The other docs checked the charts, muttered something amongst themselves, and then gave me ANOTHER dose of the fluid - a little more in my right ball, some more in my dick, and a heap more in each pec and bicep.  They wrote this down diligently, and then they unstrapped me, letting me down, and they left for the night. 

The lights were left on, and I was on my own.  I called out to check, and no-one came.  After about 15 minutes, my body began to ache, and soon I was wracked with pain, as if someone was repeatedly punching me in the chest, arms and crotch.  After about an hour I was on the floor in the foetal position - in agony - screaming for someone to come.  Finally after lying there for ages, one of the youngest doctor came in with another needle, and jabbed me in the arse.  Within a moment, I was unconscious.

When I came to, I was strapped back to the cross, the doctors all over me, stretching, measuring and poking.  I began to yell at them to stop, but the words came out incoherent.  The senior doctor told one of them to gag me, without even looking up, and a large ball gag was shoved in my mouth.  It stretched my mouth wide open, and soon my jaw began to ache, but I could barely make a sound.  My body still ached, like I'd strained myself at the gym, and my balls were just a constant dull pain.  My dick throbbed too, and I could feel a string of slimy jizz seeping from the head.  What the fuck were they doing to me?

They wheeled a full length mirror in, so I could see the progress of day one.  When I saw myself, my eyes bulged.  My skin was still translucent and taught over my body, like someone had shrink wrapped me.  The skin was shiny and pale, covered in a sheen of sweat.  My muscles, too, had grown - my pecs were now bulging a little, overhanging my abs a little and throwing a shadow over my body.  My biceps and triceps, even up in that position, were pumped, and my cock had grown fatter, my balls heavier.  Two of the younger guys were busy stretching my sac out to its limit, using a rope looped around my balls, and tied it off to the base of the frame.  My balls now were shiny in the stretched ballsac, but still swollen and big.  I could hear them talking - "Yeah, they fucked up the doses ... the pig will be way to big now ... signed the indemnity ... so they said we'd just see how big it could get ... fuck the pain ..."

They came over and removed the gag, and I begged them to stop the tests, but the intern that was working on me ignored me, coating my lips and tongue with a gel.  He told me it would make it easier for them to put my feeding tube in (why did I need a fucking tube?), and soon my mouth and throat were dry and numb.  He inserted a tube down into my stomach, and connected it to a drip with some other liquid labelled "high concentrate HGH".  They were fucking with my body and I couldn't even stop them.   The intern also brought in a thick chrome catheter, far too big for my piss slit, and with only a small swab of vaseline, began jabbing it up my sensitive urethra, until I hoarsely yelled non-stop.   Still he didn't stop until the oversized instrument was shoved right into my bladder.  Piss flowed down the pipe, but it had a stopcock, so rather than releasing my now full bladder, he left it there, uncomfortably full and jammed. 

They left me alone for a while, cramping, in constant pain and exposed.   After some time the two head doctors came back with the fluid, and I began to thrash around.  I desperately wanted out of this fucked up place.  I noticed again how young these guys were - like kids playing at some game.  Their lab coats looked like cheap uni seconds, and I could definitely see bulges showing through.  These campus freaks were getting off on this!  One said "Now pig, we're going to need to take your temperature", and using his thumb and fingers of one hand, stretched open my pisslips while with the other, he shoved a thick thermometer down my urethra, alongside the catheter.  The pain was extreme as he stretched my dickhole beyond belief.   Meanwhile the other had gone behind me, and was preparing a 'suppository'.   For what it felt like, it was thick, long and knobbly, and I could feel it splitting my arse apart.  I tried to scream but my throat was still hoarse.  He worked it around and in, fucking me with it effectively, until it slid easily through my gaping lips, and the blunt head jabbed against my prostrate.  My oversized dick began to rise, despite the fat catheter and soon was slapping against my taut abs.  The first doctor effortlessly ripped the catheter out, ripping my urethra raw, and gave my dickhead a good squeeze.  "Hey man" he said to his 'colleague' - "this freak's getting off on this - I think our little piggie here might needs some reprogramming..."

The other one jabbed another needle into me - rophynol - to make me dazed and compliant.  I could still hear them, but I was powerless to resist their suggestions.  And like a dime store hypnotist, they began testing how far they could take me.  First, they told me that I could only get hard with another guy present.  I moaned, what the fuck were they trying to do to me.  If the other guy was attractive, I would begin to drool precum.  The tougher and straighter they looked, the hotter I'd get.  This was fucked up - why would I do that?  They told me I could only cum with a naked man playing with me, or inside of me.  What the fuck?  I let out a hoarse cry, and despite the roofies, began thrashing around.  I desperately had to escape - every fibre of my being was being destroyed.  The "doctor" behind me gave my "suppository" a quick twist, churning my guts, while the other continued.    They decided to give it a test, and one of the guys from before came in again, just in pants and no top.  Sure enough, I sprang a huge boner.  He kind of stared at me, cool and hostile - a straight fucker enjoying toying with my mind.  My cock twitched and began drooling sticky precum, welling around the foreskin and dripping in gobs onto the floor.  I began staring at his crotch and tugging at my chains to grab mine.  Lastly they told me I'd fantasize about men every night when I slept and wake up with a raging hardon, but I wouldn't be allowed to touch my cock except to piss or clean it, or to follow a hypnotic suggestion.

The next 24 hours went like a daze.  More injections and foul liquids poured down my throat.  My muscles were now freakishly large, my cock thick and heavy, unrelieved, and my poor stretched balls were heavy and full.  When I recovered my voice it was grovelly and low, like my voice had broken again.  They'd royally fucked me up.  And the docs had some fun planting some other suggestions in my head - like that I'd wear my old clothes and buy the sizes that used to fit me, although it would be far too small, and that the more revealing my clothes were, the more "normal" and "sexy" I'd think it was.  From then on, I was to wear Speedos to the beach and pool (including all the way there and back), and just a paper thin pair of shorts to the gym - lining removed, legs hacked off so my balls were cupped below the hem line.

The bastards planted the last three suggestions - first that I would say nothing about the experience to anyone, nor offer any explanation for my actions.  Secondly, they read in my application forms that my biggest aversions were to gay sex, and 'body art'.  To fix this (they said), I would get the urge to go out each night, and find the raunchiest guy with the longest, fattest cock, and chat him up.  I'd get really hot and turned on by everything - kissing, touching - right up to the point of sex.  At the point that the guy propositions me for sex (and this shows how sick these fuckers are), I would go back to my normal self.  And here was the twist.  If he asks to fuck me, and I say no, then the next morning I would get an irresistable urge to get a piercing.  If he asked to suck me, the same only a tattoo.  Not only would I be driven to do this, but I would ask for the sickest, filthiest tattoo or piercing I could imagine at the time - effectively I would realise my worst nightmares.  Lastly, if I ran into any of these guys again I would recognise them, and I would follow their commands to the letter.

They brought back my clothes from the start of the week - a tank top and some running shorts.  No jocks, no shoes.  My chest was easily twice the girth it'd previously been, and the tank clung to me.  The sheer bulk of muscle pulled the tank up and away from my abs, so the hem hung in midair in front of my belly button.  Likewise the running shorts hugged my thighs, and the lace up front barely restrained my humungous shlong as it bulged in front of me.  I was a walking sex freak.

That day I went back to my dorm in a daze, not quite being able to remember what had happened or who had done it, just staring at my oversized body.  I had to admit, the tight clothes I thought were sexy, and I enjoyed parading around in just the shorts for a while.  Then as evening settled, I found myself dressing up in a tight dress shirt, the loose weave so stretched that you could see my flesh underneath, and a pair of old dress shorts that hugged my crotch and arse like a glove.  I headed to my usual hangout, but found myself walking past there, and to a club I'd only seen once or twice - a gay leather bar on the next block.  In about 10 minutes, with a fair crowd of guys around, I saw one guy, a 6'6" brute with what looked like a baby's fist down his pants, and without wanting to, found myself going up to him and chatting.  He was pretty handsome, so I felt my dick lurch and begin to spew precum of its own accord.  It took only a minute or so and I found myself following him to the back room, where he pinned me up against the wall and began roughly pashing me.  Until now, my body was both enjoying and resisting, but then the guy looked in my eyes and said he'd like me to suck him off.   Immediately, the suggestions disappeared, and I found myself locked a few inches from another guy's face, with the choice between sucking his cock (which I desperately wanted to avoid) or getting a tattoo.

As I struggled internally, the guy pulled at his fly, revealing his bare crotch (no underpants) - a thick fat sinuous cock with a fat bulbous head, partly covered by his fleshy foreskin, which was retracting with his growing erection to reveal the shiny leaking knob.  Holding my head in both of his hands, he guided me down to my knees, my face planted in front of the throbbing dripping monster.  The smell of sweaty funk hit me full in the face as his cock slapped against my nose and I gagged, but he firmly pulled my head towards him, so I found the head slopping against my lips and then penetrating my mouth.  He fucked my mouth rhythmically, holding my head tight and thrusting in until I gagged and his fat cock slapped against my tonsils, and then drawing back until his precum pooled on my tongue.  Over and over he facefucked me until finally he groaned, pulled me into his crotch so the hair tickled my nose, and came in ropes of thick cum down my throat.  He guided my head back to his, so he could deeply tongue fuck my raped mouth, swirling the traces of his cum with his spit so the taste hit me.  I began to pull away, desperate to escape his clutches, when I felt his arm snake down my back and his thick digit slip down the length of my arsecrack.  Oh god no, I thought, please don't let him continue, but before I could pull away, he slid his hand down, slipping his fat finger into my moist crack, to the second knuckle.  I bucked - I didn't want any part of this sick stuff, and he whispered "Let me fuck you...:"  I backed away, and ran out of the club.

The next day I told myself I'd gotten away scott free - I hadn't refused, and he hadn't exactly asked.  Or so I thought.  I slipped on a tee shirt that clung to my torso and a pair of (now) micro shorts, and went out on my morning jog.  I passed a tattoo parlour and found myself jogging back to it, and hovering outside the window.  While I struggled internally, the suggestions won over, and I went into the shop.  All my worst fears were going through my mind, and they came out - I blurted to the guy inside that I wanted the fithiest piercing imaginable.  He gave me a wry look, and then played dumb, slowly spelling out to me all the things I could have happen to me.  "So man, do you like want your nipple - no wait your tongue?  nose?   I got it, how about if you pierced your ballbag, or your foreskin, or a thick prince albert through your cock?" I was panicking, and then from inside me, a voice said "My ballbag would be pretty filthy, but I guess the most humiliating would be my nose".  Mentally I was screaming - not my face!!!  I struggled to say no, to leave, but the guy just smiled broadly and said - yeah you look like a sick puppy, dressed like that - I'll give you both for the price of one!

Ten minutes later, I found myself strapped in his chair, shorts off, my cock stiff and slimy, as he showed me the range.  I chose the thickest ring for my nose, which he said "entitled" me to half a dozen rings on my ballbag (for the same price).  Then he got to work.  He told me that I couldn't get my ballbag pierced with a hard cock, and began gently massaging my dicksleeve, a slow wank that made my body tingle, until I came in thick wads over his hand.  He licked it up (which I thought was gross) and grinning told me I'd have to return the favour one day.  He wiped the rest of the cum from his hand onto my running shorts.  My dick went soft for the first time in days, and he began piercing my cock with the six rings he'd selected.  He took my ballbag in his hand, tweaking a thick fold of skin in his fingers, before lining up the piercing gun and firing each ring into me, sending a wave of pain through my body.  I screamed at the first one, so he shoved my micro shorts (still wet with cum) into my mouth and continued, until all 6 were in place.  In the mirror he showed me "part one" - a row of silver turning my crotch into circus show.  He took out the shorts and I was yelling and cursing from the throbbing pain in my balls.  The suggestions wore off (I'd received my piercing now) and I struggled to get free.  Reluctantly he let me loose, and told me to come back the next day for "part two" and his blowjob.  This was just getting more and more fucked up!  I struggled back into my tee shirt and micro shorts (that mashed my tender balls against my thigh), and hobbled out of the shop.

I tried to keep up my old life, but these punks had royally fucked me up.  I went to the gym, thinking it would be back to normal, and all the guys just stared.  For starters, I was huge - absolutely massive ripped arms, thick slab pecs, huge shoulders, one of those muscle boys who no-one approaches.  All my gym buddies kept their distance, and I heard a few of them mutter under their breath "steroid freak" and "fag".  Also, I was wearing some old gym shorts, which I'd been compelled to cut down even further - the material hacked roughly at the base of my arse, and around the edge of my package like underwear.  Only the Lonsdale badge made them look like gym shorts and not briefs.  My shaved body and thick cock also looked more like the stereotypical gym fag, and the guys all turned their backs.  As a little joke, some of my former friends saw fit to steal my towel and shorts when I showered, replacing it with just a note - "join some other gym, poofter".  I was horrified, especially when I had to borrow some filthy second hand pair of gym pants, still rank from the sweat and balljuice of some unknown occupant, from the owner.  Worse, the stretch pants did nothing to support my meaty package, which flopped from side to side with each step of the long walk home.  When I got there, my dick and balls were throbbing from the involuntary beating they'd received.

Also, every day, no matter what I tried, I found myself going out and trawling for guys, each one meaner than the last.  I stared at so much crotch looking for the most hung fucker that by the third day every fag was staring at me, and I kept getting offers for a suck.  Which meant that I sucked a lot of cock in that week - in fact about 10 a night, just to avoid tattoos.  Even then, some of the guys, one with a huge gut and belly, I couldn't touch, even with my mouth sore and throat already coated with the slime of innumerable guys, and so I found myself back at the tattoo parlor, soon sporting my first humiliating tattoo - just one word on the top of my pecs, crossing from one to the other in huge gothic letters - "DICKPIG".  With a tank top on (my standard dress now), the letters "D  CKP  G" were visible either side of the straps, which left little to the imagination.  At least in a shirt the letters "CKP" were a little less obvious.  I was still compelled to go to the gym on my normal routine, but now everyone avoided me, or took turns to make my life hell.

The words "DICK PIG" also meant that I'd get offers now pretty much all the time, not just at night, so that I was sucking dick almost non-stop from the time I left the house.  Behind toilets, in the back of clubs, my mouth ached and I could constantly taste ball sweat and cum.  A few wanted to fuck me, too, which I absolutely refused, so that in a few days I was sporting the nose ring and a pair of tit rings as well.

At the end of the week I was on campus, walking back to my dorm, head down as I tried to avoid catching anyone elses eye, when I barrelled into a cocky straight jock from the Phys Ed unit.  Immediately my dick went rock hard and began drooling in my thin shorts, as I had been conditioned to do, and despite this inner rage, I was subdued and apologetic.  "No worries man" the jock said, idly stratching his hairy pec under his tank, giving me a glimpse of his pec flesh and abs.  Then he noticed the letters "CKP" poking out of my stretched shirt collar, and my straining hard on. "Hey" he said, breaking out in a broad grin, "how's it swinging piggie?  Looks like our experiment's turning out nicely!"  He came to within inches of my face and yanked my collar out, glimpsing down at the letters and piercings. "Awlright!"  A couple of guys strolled passed and glanced at us but walked on. I wanted to scream, cry for help, but I stood there dumb, letting this jock two years my junior treat me like a pound of flesh, a guinea pig. The guys went around the corner, and he dropped his hands to my crotch, giving my aching fat cock a squeeze.  "All horned up and nowhere to cum, eh!" he sneered.

"So, how's the action,  I bet you'd love to suck my cock right here?" he chuckled. Immediately, I felt like floodgates had been opened.  "You sick fucks" I whispered hoarsely, "you've fucked up my life - my jaw aches from sucking cock, my body is ruined, I can't take this... I pass a guy and I get hard, it's disgusting..."  suddenly, he slapped me, and I stopped talking.  "Bullshit.  Sounds like Mr Uppity still needs some training.  Been buttfucked yet?"  I shook my head.  "Well then we better make up for lost time.  Come to the DYC frat house at 8pm tonight, and wait on the porch, in a squat, leaning on your haunches, knuckles on the ground behind your arse, legs apart.  And we'll see who's the sick fuck - I want you to buy a thick leather cockring, beat off 'til your dick is about to burst, and do it up tight. Other than that, the only thing you'll be wearing is a black posing pouch.  A long moan escaped my lips, and I managed to mutter "please don't make me..."  he grinned and continued "oh, still resisting are we.  Just to teach you, I want you to trim the posing pouch about an inch off each leg hole first.  He slapped me on the arse and headed off, whistling.

I went to a novelty shop to buy the stuff. Of course, seeing a hot guy buying kinky clothes, the attendant cruised me, so I found myself on my knees, hard cock strapped into my new cockring, sucking his slimy dick before the trip was done.  When I got home I looked at the new items.  The posing pouch was already tight on my crotch, tucking into the crook of my legs within millimetres of my cock on both sides.  The front plunged down and wrapped around the head of my cock - you could almost make out the veins on my foreskin - and tightly held back my bulging balls.  It felt like nothing was on me already - worse, it obscenely drew attention to my crotch.  Then I began trimming away at the sides.  It was ridiculous - by the time I'd taken an inch off each side, there was only a strip about 2 inches wide left. I shucked it back on to see and was horrified - the strip just flattened my cock against by hairless crotch, but could easily be seen on either side, the head flanging out.  Where the pouch widened for my balls was now also too thin, so they peeked out on either side, like some freaky side show.  With the cockring on (clearly visible as my dick tugged the pouch down below my dickroot), tattoos and piercings in high relief.  I tried out the crouching position, to see how I'd look to passers by as I squatted on the DYC porch.  The view was filthy.  To squat on my haunches with my knuckles behind me I had to thrust out my crotch and arch my back.   My whole front was on full display, and with legs  spread, my cock was virtually bursting out of the posing pouch.  All my flesh was exposed.  I was speechless.

I went back out to see if I could find a bigger posing pouch.  I put on some normal clothes - that is, micro shorts and a tank top, and headed towards the shops.  As I walked out of campus, I passed the tattoo parlour which I was becoming a regular at.  Instinctively, I found myself heading in.  Oh no, I thought, not again... I realised that the jock had suggested I suck his dick, which I hadn't, so I had another craving for a tattoo.  When I walked in, I realised Cole, the sick fucker was there.  This guy was an expert tattooist, and I'm sure he had been talking to the jocks.  He grinned from ear to ear when I entered, and told me he heard I had a party to go to tonight.  He made me strip and sit in the chair, and strapping my legs wide apart and my arms behind me, he then made me tell him everything about their latest plan.  As I did so, my half flaccid cock, arching across my thick thigh, began twitching with anticipation.  When I finished telling him about their sick party plans, he was grinning maniacally. Slapping my thigh, he said he knew the perfect thing. He draped a sheet around my waist and went between my legs with the tattoo gun, inches from my sweaty sac.  I could feel his breath on my crotch as he tattooed some message on each thigh, painfully marking my inseam with a slutty message.  When he finished, he covered it with gauze and told me not to remove it until just before I left for the party. After sucking him off, I was broken, and limped back to my dorm to wait out my fate.

That evening, I was still in pain, and could only walk gingerly.  Finally as 7pm rolled past, it was time to get dressed and face my aggressors.  I peeled off the gauze, horrified to find out what was below.  Cole had tattooed "TWIST ME" on one inseam, and "BURN ME" on the other, both angled in towards my balls and hose cock.    I beat off, which sent shivers of pleasure and pain up my cock from the piercings, and then strapped up my throbbing engorged stalk with the tight cockring.  I slid on the 2 inch-thick posing pouch, hefting my long curved prong into the tight sliver of cloth, until the head was jammed hard against the base, and the material stretched down and out.  I looked like a man slut waiting to be used and abused.  I was ready to parade my filthy body around campus.

As I left my room, one of the beefy blonde jocks from across the hall was coming out of his. "Whoa" he said, taking in my pumped and inked body.  I didn't give him a chance to say much more, as I bolted down the corridor, but caught a glint of evil lust in his baby blue eyes.  I sprinted in record time and managed to get to the DYC frat house at twilight, unseen.  There on the porch I assumed the position and had the embarrasing wait, spread eagled, until they deigned to let me in.  They bound my hands behind my back, loose enough that they could stay by my side, but so that I couldn't protect my dick and balls.  The guy who I'd met on campus, Cam, was apparently the ringleader of their party, and was barechested, flaunting his fat hairy pecs and solid 8 pack to the other guys.  He kept shifting his meaty package as he spoke to me, a sign that I was in for some humiliating man-on-man action to come.  As one of his lackeys force fed me a cocktail of drugs, Cam explained that tonight was the night for my transformation from man to cunt.  He explained in great detail how they would open up my virgin cherry with thick ribbed dildos, ploughing my hole until it was wide and unresisting, and then would take it in turns to fuck me until I had the sloppiest hole on campus.  "Some of these guys are pretty rough here, so your arse will be pretty permanently stretched open, but at least the roofies we slipped you will have you loving every second of it...".  I wanted to protest but my mouth felt stuck and the room began to spin...

After that was a haze of being pawed and mauled, and having my arse filled with ever larger cocks, each of which stretched my mouth afterwards as I cleaned them off.  Worse was that I was so out of it, I couldn't keep track, until it felt like one continuous hard fucking.  Some time about 4am I began to come down and could begin to get my bearings.  A 10" beer can cock was being slapped across my face as another plunged into my sloppy stretched hole.  I felt like a whore on carnival.  My stomach and intestines were filled with cum, it clogged my throat, dripped from my face and steadily squelched out of my arse with every thrust.  I could barely make a sound.  Meanwhile my dick was still rock hard, dripping pre cum on the floor like a tap.  As I finished cleaning off the  cock in front of me (although so much cum was slurping around my mouth it just mixed his tang with others), the guy behind me thrust balls deep, and with a roar pumped my guts full of another mega load.  As he withdrew, Cam noticed I'd begun to come to, and slapped the guy off.  "Hey how does it feel?"  he asked, throwing his arm around my neck like a best bud. "You did real good boy".  It was crazy, but in my fucked up state I almost felt proud, craved his approval.  He idly began fingering my  wide hole.  My sphincter tried to clench but he still could easily pile drive me through the gap.  Scooping up a slather of cum, he rubbed it against my swollen lips, pushing his finger into my mouth.  "We're going to have lots more fun, eh boy!"

Cam gave a sign and a couple of bruisers grabbed me under each arm, and began hauling me out of the frat house, leaving a trail of sweat and balljuice trickling off me.  They dragged me across campus in the pre-dawn gloom, to the front of my dorm, where they dumped me.  My hands were still bound behind me, so I could do nothing to break the fall, as I fell face first into the dirt, legs akimbo.  As a parting present, one of the guys pulled my cock back between my legs and stretched out the foreskin by its piercing until the taut skin was translucent and the piercing hole began to tear.  Then getting a stick lying nearby, staked it to the ground so my fat cock was pinned out of reach.

I must've lain their an hour until the dorm supervisor, my mentor Professor B¿rg, heard my hoarse cry.  B¿rg was a 6'3" nordic god, and as well as being my dorm supervisor and Sports Psych professor, was a gym buddy and confidant.  I'd avoided him since I'd first volunteered, so running out in his boxers, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw my ripped pumped body.  Hearing my moans, he figured I'd been on some drunk hazing ritual.  First he tried to grab my under the armpits and lift me, not seeing the stick skewering my dicksheath.  As he lifted my sweaty pits, he got first glimpse of "DICKPIG" tattooed over my fat tits, just as I screamed out "THEY'VE SKEWERED MY DUMB FAT ARAB COCK!".  I realised that they'd implanted another humiliating command in my head.  He dropped me like a stone, my head slamming into the ground, I was knocked unconcious.  When I awoke B¿rg was carrying me face-to-face, his arms under my pits, his own melon biceps straining at the weight of my oversized body.  I was still too exhausted to move, so as he walked my legs dragged between his, every second step slamming his knee against my tender balls.  He seemed so intent on dragging me upstairs before his arms gave out that he didn't care if he pounded my balls.  He burst my door open and dragged me to my study desk, dumping me on top of my work so my body slammed backwards against the wall.  Despite still being almost on top of me, legs still straddling mine, he didn't step back, but leant in, whispering "So you're a regular fag now?!"  I tried to shake my head and protest but could barely speak.  Cum bubbled from my mouth.  He began savagely tweaking my nipples until they stood out from my chest slab.  My breathing was shallow and my dick stood to attention.  "No" I managed to mumble "doan play with my dime sized rubber tits, you're making my dumb fat arab cock all hard an leaky..."  They'd programmed me to sound like some cheap gay spurt flick. B¿rg leaned forward and planted a hard kiss on my lips, licking off some of the cum.  "I've wanted to do this for the longest time" he growled.  He grabbed my legs behind my knees, and lifted them up over his shoulders, so my arse leant against the edge of the table, exposed. He dropped his boxers to reveal his thick cock, and began slowly feeding it in my wide hole with one hand, while beating my thick dick and swelling balls with the other.  After the kneeing, the rough wank was making them ache.  Over his shoulder I could see the guys from across the hall come out of their room and begin lining up for a piece of the action.

At some point the whole floor had fucked me at least once, maybe more, and they left me in my room, slumped on my bed, their combined juices leaking out of my gaping hole and soaking my bedsheets.  I was delirious from the drugs and having been left out in the cold naked, and when I awoke hours later, I was sweating and shivering with the flu.  I tried to get up but was too weak, and collapsed back into the cumslop, hoarsely calling for help.  I lay their for hours, alone.  Eventually someone heard and the guys came in, all staring at my exposed naked flesh.  I was too weak to even cover up.  B¿rg ordered one of them to call my emergency contact, and pushed them out of the room.  He rolled me into bed and pulled the sticky sheet over my chest.  The room was rank and fetid.  I tried to tell him no, to ask for a doctor, but he shook his head.  You just rest he said.  I sunk into a disturbed sleep, revolving around the imminent arrival of my next of kin - my son...