BDSM Library - Story: Cody, Chapter: Part 8 Cody

Cody 8

by Emile

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Cody was almost out of his mind in desperation when he rang me. For starters, since Leroy was now fucking him, my good friend Jamal decided that he was entitled to a piece of the action, too. So instead of classes, Cody spent his days getting ploughed by Leroy and doing his chores, and his nights at the frat getting reamed out by Jamal's cock. I mean reamed out - Jamal's restraint came from years of experience punch fucking cunts with his veiny 13 inch bludgeon. The tower of greasy flesh would split the innards of an unseasoned cunt, and even now, it was only with extreme pain and difficulty that Cody unclenched his arsering enough to let the invader in. Jamal helped plenty, ramming his porker mercilessly into Cody's stretched pucker like a tennis ball in a muffler, with about the same explosive effect. It took about an hour for Cody to coax the extra large fucker from its drooling half-hard state to full arse punching rigidity, but then since lunch and dinner were now liquid diets from Leroy and Jamal's cocks, it gave him his fill of protein for the day.

Add to that another hour or so spent crouched on the ground, tits touching the floor, one hand pushing his fat balls up and out between his legs, so Jamal could enjoy the smacking sound his own nuts made as they bashed into Cody's own with each pile driving thrust. It hurt like a dull ache after a few minutes, despite his tough leathery ballbag, but the sensation kept Jamal on edge, and stopped him shooting his load too early. Plus he knew the gut-kicking jab was a hundred times worse for the jock kid, whose sensitive ballbag was tenderised by constant rough prodding. Sometimes he even wrapped Cody's angry red testicles in a nice tight chastity sack, rivets pointing inwards against the tortured flesh. His nuts were so damaged they were permanently twice their original size, making it unlikely he would ever shoot his seed again, even if he was allowed to jerk off. Only when he'd shot his load up Cody's chute did he allow him to wrap a short towel around his waist, waddle up to his bedroom (trying vainly to hide his filthy body from his fratmates, holding the cum in the whole time), before he was allowed to expel the load in front of the webcam. After his nightly show, he finally went to bed around one AM, in time to get up at five ahead of Leroy's shift.

But he was out of his mind for bigger issues than just becoming a boyslut - after all I'd fucked him into submission weeks before. Worse, in his mind, he'd missed his classes for weeks, and received a letter from the trustees that he was being put on academic probation. Instead his days in his janitor's hut consisted of getting a hard fucking and doing Leroy's work - mostly cleaning out the shithouses on campus, often buck naked, cum leaking from his arse, while Leroy sat back and puffed on stoogies. It was like a game for Leroy, he would come up beside him, fondle his pecs, squeeze his swollen nads, finger his sore hole, anything to make him flinch, or spill his mop bucket, whatever - any excuse for a hard punish fucking in full daylight. Cody was still horrified at the idea of being caught. Leroy kindly played lookout while he toiled away, sometimes only giving him seconds notice - a grunt hello to some jock kid, or a cough as a professor entered - and Cody would have to scramble for a stall and hide while the guy did his stuff. More than once he stumbled as he went in, or fumbled a door, and almost got caught.

But today, that had changed. When he heard the telltale footsteps of a swaggering student , he'd dashed for a stall which turned out not to have a door. Like a deer in headlights, the tanned naked jock stood there dumbly, half covering his hooded dork as it arched towards the spattered bowl, arse clenched towards the hall, like a kid pissing that had somehow lost their pants. The footsteps barely broke stride, and when he glanced over his shoulder when they passed, he recognised the jersey of his own frat house. A cold sweat broke over his body, and he turned and stood there facing the room, hopping from one foot to another, hoping the kid would go around the corner so he could duck into another stall. The kid didn't - choosing a urinal right opposite Cody's stall. The toilet block was filled with the sound of the jock's strong hard pissing, and Cody crept forward. When he got to the hall, he found Leroy had done the same, and instead of letting him past, Leroy grabbed one hand in his dirty washcloth, and slipped it around Cody's thigh, tying each end around one wrist. Cody was still trying to cup his dangling tackle with his hand, and Leroy just slid his palm over Cody's, enveloping the dork, and guiding him to start slowly jerking it off. Of course it rose to aching stiffness soon enough, the fat head poking out from under its fleshy hood. Leroy stepped back out of view as the sound of pissing subsided, and Cody realised his predicament - he looked to all the world like he was brazenly jerking off while staring at the jock's back. He couldn't even bring his hand off his cock without pulling the other one behind him, which just looked like he was playing with his arse as well.

He wouldn't have time to figure it out anyway. The jock turned around, his expression passing from shock to revulsion and anger faster than you could say pervert, and he barrelled up to Cody, still clinging onto his raging hard-on, smacking him down with a king hit. He bellowed "What the fuck do you think you're doing" at Cod kicking him in his swollen tackle while Cody begged, saying it wasn't his fault, pleading not to be hurt, or found out. Leroy came in and calmed the boy down, shutting Cody up, calling him a repeat faggot flasher. Naked and hard dicked, Cody could barely think of a response. Flashing a white pearly smile, Leroy turned to the frat jock, and offered to broker a deal to satisfy them both. The frat jock stood arms crossed, like a justice warrior while Leroy explained his solution. The kid would give Cody his silence, if Cody agreed to take a beating from him. The only rule, Cody couldn't protect himself. Say, if the kid wanted to kick him in the nuts, Cody would have to spread his legs real wide, and afterwards, when he could breathe again, say 'thank you'.

The kid was disgusted, and spat his response at Cody, but the dicklump in his pants gave a jerk when Leroy said the last part, and he eventually shrugged his agreement. Cody was beside himself, but desperate to avoid worse repurcussions at the frat house. He meekly agreed. Leroy helped Cody up, deftly untying one hands as he did, and hauled Cody over to the porcelein bowl, forcing him to sit on the rim, legs spread wide, his tackle hanging down in front, resting against the piss spattered bowl. As he retied Cody's hands to the flush chain high above, he told Cody to slip his big feet back behind the drainpipe and cross them, effectively thrusting his waist forward towards the jock. The jock had free access to his body. The jock slowly rolled up his sleeves and pants, to avoid any spatter, and got ready to give the whupping of his life. "Yeah man" Leroy heard, as he walked out "I thought you were a sex freak, the way you dress and act - it just ain't safe. I'm gonna make sure you hurt to bad you can't fuck no bitch pregnant even if you wanted to. With that he backed up, drew his leg up and brought it down on Cody's tackle, pincering it against the porcelain rim. And half an hour later, in agony, bleeding and swollen, his nuts turning an unhealthy shade of purple, he staggered out, ran from Leroy, and called me. I came and picked up the broken jock, and took him back to the film studio, which was dark, where he collapsed on the floor, into a deep therapeutic sleep.

The next day, Cody awoke to me slapping him on the face. He'd been sleeping naked in a ball for 14 hours, and was still filthy, nose broken and his body covered in welts and sores. His tackle was obscenely swollen now, the jock had done some major damage, he probably should have seen a doctor right away. But I wasn't into that kind of shit, he'd recover more or less, although those model looks were probably gone now. Still, we'd decided to shoot him, and it was an open shoot and at least two dozen guys from his earlier shoots had turned up to watch Cody suffer. I asked him to stand, so we could all see his hunky body and all the guys got a good look at his tackle swinging as he tottered to his feet. He was dazed and confused, and seeing all the men around, flashes going off in his face, he was even more disoriented. After the first dozen 'warm up' shots, two guys stepped in to oil him while I pressed two blue pills down his throat. The agony of having the two brutes roughly slap warm liquid over his bruised body, and kneed and tug at his abused tackle, was almost too much for Cody, who yelled and moaned with every grope. Soon the pills kicked in, adding the dull ache of his own body stretching skin as his dork rose to full mast.

He stood their awkwardly, helpless to resist, confused what kind of a shoot this could be, pleading with me to take him to the hospital, as they slid their hands all over his body. They were thorough - caressing his pecs, shoulders and back, sliding down his crack, between his meaty thighs and finally oiling his already dripping cock until it shone brightly. He moaned and bucked, now also needing to cum, so we took a few centrefold shots before handing him a skimpy thong to slip on. He protested, lisping because of his split lip, that it was sick, taking pictures of him all bashed up wearing that. I shook my head. "Actually, bullnuts, it's all the rage, although the other models mostly use make-up for the boxer effect. But with you, we get the real thing!

Of course the shots were filthy, almost pornographic, but we knew plenty of gay magazines that would pay good money for the shots, not to mention the market in the gear itself which sold for top dollar once it had cradled a hunk's cock like his. The constant stream of dickleak that now slaked from his gaping pisshole was like liquid gold. Of course this meant he had to wear plenty of different costumes for the shoot. He struggled with each one, maybe because of the drugs, or the injuries, or the lack of material to encase his hard equipment and swinging balls, or maybe because the assistants kept grabbing his arse - but after 30 minutes we managed to snap some good 'come fuck me' shots, including the cover shot in the translucent boxers, his snaking battered dork poking out below the hem, a droplet of prefuck stretching out towards the ground. The photographer mouthed off about their circulation as he reviewed the photos, and Cody's face fell - hundreds of thousands of guys would be seeing his face as a trashy slut dick whore. Knowing how humiliated he found his newly stretched foreskin, we selected the final shot, where the hood half gripped the hard dork like a sleeve, just in shot. Plenty of guys would get fantasies from that. But for Cody, how private would his life be now? I went over to him, massaging his corded shoulders as he slumped with the realisation. "Don't worry, this magazine won't hit the stands for a week yet, and I'd bet there's not more than, what, a dozen guys on campus that would buy it. How bad can it be?" I thumbed and rolled his foreskin, adding "but of course, if you want to keep it secret, you might have to offer them something too...". He flinched.

That could have been a wrap, but the photographer didn't just want shots for the magazine, so we decided to go on to part 2 of the shoot. It was a little game - we all gathered close around Cody, and I told him to surrender the boxers and sprawl on the ground, hands apart and legs akimbo so we could all see his throbbing tackle arching painfully from his waist, still concealed beneath his loosened foreskin. Reluctantly he slipped off the scrap of material, spreading his lean body before us on the white sheeted floor. Against the lips of his un-virgin chute I placed the behemoth (and none to clean) dildo that featured in the Horsehung poster, which I'd brought down from the ranch. Cody's eyes went as wide as saucers. He began to edge away, begging me to stop, but I smacked him into submission, reminding him he already took Jamal's cock, so what difference would a bit more stretching make. It was a lie of course, this thing was huge, but we were determined to break Cody down completely.

We blindfolded him, ready to start. The game was simple. We put things on Cody's tongue, if he guessed 3 right in a row, he won. Each time he guessed wrong, I fed an inch of fake horse cock up his chute. If he was too slow, a whack on the nuts would hurry him up. If nothing else happened, the game ended when the hunky freshman had the full 15" lodged up his fundament, although I suspected anything over 5 inches would be a real struggle for the unprepared, what with the girth and all.

Round One - I spooned the foul jelly-like goop on his tongue- one, two, three teaspoons, until it filled his mouth and trickled down his throat, making him cough and gag. Since I kept spooning it was hard to hear his answer through the goop, but eventually one of the guys guessed he was saying "cum". Wrong. "Headcheese" I told him, screwing the blunt dildo past his sphincter, and he bucked and moaned, and had to be held down by four guys. "Actually, three day old headcheese to be precise. You'll need to be clear, too, cum's not enough - say 'dog cum' or 'donkey cum'." He coughed and made retching sounds - would've vomited if we hadn't been holding him down, so he was forced to swallow whatever came up. He looked so cute, tight lean body struggling, like it had that first time in the motel.

Round Two - and I placed the foul condom on his tongue. He gagged but closed his mouth, forced to savour the taste and make a guess. "Condom" he said raspily, and I flicked his ball, grunting 'more information'. "with dickslime... and cuntjuice..." he continued. I was impressed! This cuntboy had talent. Round Three I poured directly down his gullet, not stopping until the whole lunchbag was emptied, although since he had trouble swallowing mouthfuls, much of it overflowed his lips, coating his chin and coursing down his neck. At first I didn't catch it through the coughing and milky bubbles, but finally the guess - a dejected "dog ... cum". 'Congratulations' I exclaimed 'two down, one to go', as I scooped up the rivulets and fed them back into his mouth. I wonder when the arrogant jock had tasted dog cum, or if it was a lucky guess. He was coughing cum and cheese now, his packed stomach churning, so when I poured in Round Four - castor oil - he didn't have much time to tell. He was groaning badly now, cramping and gagging, and sadly, his guess (if you can call a gasping "motherfucker" a guess) was wrong.

We gave him 5 minutes to recover, and he crawled away from us to heave, throwing up a massive puddle of slop. I had to admire how masculine he still looked, back muscles rippling, bi's and tri's pumped, as he knelt on all fours and heaved. His sphincter was still tight enough to grip the heavy tool even as he crawled, holding the 14 exposed inches aloft, bobbing before us. As he knelt there, panting, the pool spread so wide it trickled between his fingers and coated his knees below his hanging package, and he was forced back towards us, leaving strings of filth clinging to his body. I put my hand out against the butt of the dildo, quickly stopping him backing as the shaft resisted, forcing the head a little further up his chute. So he was forced to remain there as the cheeseslop trickled over his hands and around his ankles and feet, until he was surrounded by it. We left him there, blindfolded and on all fours, broad back arched and head tilted up, for the rest of the game.

His guesses were worse, perhaps because the lighting guy had taken three clips off his rig and clipped them to his nipples, and hooting foreskin, looping the three together with cord and pulling them tight, until his foreskin was stretched between his abs and nipples pulled down hard below his chest. So a fistful of pubes, a jug of human cum and even a quart of my piss all chugged down his throat unrewarded. True, he would have guessed the last one had he not spluttered "augh it burns" beforehand. I think someone had smeared menthol on the stretched hood. Also, four inches of ever widening horsecock dildo wouldn't help. On the upside, the shots of the hunky jock kneeling in cumslop, arching up to swallow crud with his arse stuffed with dildo, were coming up really well. When he got the next one wrong (sweat, which he failed to identify as human sweat, although I'd have taken ballbag sweat too), his legs gave out before I'd even shoved the dong another half inch, splattering into the ooze. He screamed as I screwed it to the inch mark, writhing around in the juice as he tried to jerk himself away from the clips and scramble up to alleviate pressure from his mashed tackle. I gave him a few ballbusting whacks for that, and he eventually calmed down. Amazingly, despite this, he managed to collect himself, and correctly guessed human snot and horse cum, although he rocked from knee to knee now, his balls bright red and throbbing along with his stretched foreskin, which had been wrenched off its clip when he fell. The last round was an easy one - as one guy dropped his pants and teabagged him before I could come up with my goods, and after sucking on the sweaty sac a few times, his muffled "guy's balls" was sadly accepted by all.

Annoyed at being pipped, I ground the dildo one last inch into the humpy arse, relishing the suctioning sound as it stretched his hole at least twice the width it had ever previously accomodated. He collapsed again, screaming, but the game was over and we left him thrashing around helplessly as we all surveyed the photos, jerking off til we came, adding to the puddle around him. He finally managed to right himself, just in time to cop 3 loads in the face, and grabbed at the dildo, desperately trying to dislodge it before he even took off the blindfold. I placed by boot on the end, applying just enough counter pressure that the dong wouldn't budge, until he stopped struggling, leaving the intruder wedged inside him, and tore off the blindfold. The look of fear and hatred in his eyes brought me back to his first moment's realisation, when he'd still been cocky and tough, thinking he could punk me instead. But for all the anger, he was helpless, and in an act of submission, his thighs untensed, submitting to the pressure I applied to the massive dildo. I let the gargantuan pole slid in another half inch, to drive the point home, and relented, knowing his last resistance to becoming my sex pig was spent, despite his tough and sporty exterior.

I left him there a while, leaking and dazed, until the others left, and then let him clean up at the basin. When he was fairly clean and only slightly dick-smelling, I gave him back a thin white tee and tennis shorts, both of which revealed every inch of tanned flesh below, telling him to dress for the trip home. He pulled on the clothes and silently got into the car. He closed his eyes as I began driving, and it wasn't until we neared that Cody realised I was driving him back to his campus. He began to get agitated, climbing up his seat, hands balled into fists. "Please don't make me go back" he begged. I grabbed a nipple, pulling his arse back down onto the seat. "Look here musclecunt, you stay at varsity until I say so. I'll deal with your basher, mark my words. But you can't be too careful now - what I want you to do, when you get back to your room, is to get a webcam, and to give me daily reports on whatever happened, keeping it as sexual as possible. Any guys that leered at you, any propositions, how your aching dick is doing - everything. And since your basically fucked in your sports therapy course, I've spoken with the Dean, and he'll let you change your enrollment to major in queer theory instead. Classes are Tuesdays at 9am, I'll make sure Leroy lets you off. Oh, and when you go to class, wear what you're wearing now. He looked down - you could see both aureoles of his nipples through the shirt, even the dark marks of the bruises. The shorts were no better, as well as his crotch stubble above the hem, you could clearly make out each bloated ball and his long snaking cock against the loose fabric. "But they'll think I'm a fag" he sputtered. "Well you swing on enough dick" I responded, giving his schlong a squeeze, instantly producing a stain on the front "they'll ask about that, and you better be honest about how much cock you take, or I'll tell them personally. The look in his eyes - hope of a reprieve, dread of the unknown, was priceless. I dropped him off at the frathouse door, still wearing his trashy little uniform, and drove away to deal with the little frat punk that had bashed him.

I'll leave the story about that spunky tight arsed jock for another time, but suffice to say he makes a good understudy for Horse, although it took a lot of hard convincing before he accepted the new role. Anyway, back to Cody. He concealed his pain and was accepted by the boys, keeping his meagre clothes on as much as he could. Leroy and Jamal went easy on him, at my request, and he began to assume some normalcy about his life. That's what I wanted - for him to just get comfortable, before I took him down the next notch. And Cody was trapped even worse now - when he got back to his room, he found I had taken all his posessions while he slept, except the meagre essentials. Hs computer was also on, camera light blinking in front of him. At the bottom of the screen in big text was my welcome - "Hey Cody, a friend rigged this up while we were busy - now it's all automatic for you!" His shoulders slumped a bit, another piece of privacy chipped away.

Somehow, Cody's life got back to a version of normality. He showered in the footy shorts, still hiding his filthiest piercings, and used the same explanation for his bruises as he had offered the frat buddies for his tat and piercings - some kind of fight club he was in. He was sporty and tough, so they bought it, which also helped him explain away some of his odd hours and skimpier clothes. Still guys noticed his shaved body, swollen dork, and so he didn't find anyone in the frat who really cared about him, not enough for him to confess his awful situation, and find some way out of it. He had a tenuous grip on acceptance and respect.

Behind closed (but not soundproof) doors, his solo video postings were going well enough. Usually he posed for the cameras on all fours, arse up and towards the camera, so his balls hung low and his dick was squashed back facing the lens. His wide back rippled as he strained to look back towards the cam while keeping his arse tight and balls dangling. His body had recovered mostly, he even seemed to be enjoying his reputation as a street fighter, he'd told the Queer Theory dudes as well, so that while they suspected a lie, nothing had come of that yet. He hated the course, but then, that was the idea - I wanted him trapped in a life not his choosing.

I was racking my brain what my next move would be. But then one night, I and the other voyeurs were treated to something unexpected - as the cam came on, there was Cody bouncing up and down on what looked like a fat dong, the owner invisible except a pair of meaty thighs and his roaming hairy arms as he roved up and down Cody's sexy body. The unknown impaler was, Cody quickly explained as he bounced, a guy who'd stumbled across the magazine shoot that day, freshly minted, and recognised him. The sick college fucker had wasted no time in getting his share of the action. Obviously they'd been going at it a while, Cody's dork was iron hard and straining, and sweat gave their bodies a sexy sheen. I was more aroused than angry that this musclestud had presumed the right to buttfuck my little stud, it was an intention of the public blog after all. But I'd expected some slow degradation by the frat, not this quick possessive fucklust. As Cody explained, the guy had said he'd keep it a secret if he could fuck him on camera, to which Cody reluctantly had to agree.

Why bargain, I thought? But as I stared at the screen, I noticed the little fucker was still clothed, a grey singlet hugging his armpit just visible beside Cody's lats, and satin shorts half down, waistband still hugging his lower thighs. The clothes looked kind of familiar - and it hit me in a flash. This guy was a townie - wearing the training gear of the football club I'd admired about town while I was there. This was fantastic - not only was the little college studmuffin getting reamed by a townie, but one whose own testosterone filled clubhouse would crucify him for man on man action. No wonder he'd been hopping to fuck the little manslut in secret. So I sent Cody an email - his new fuck friend was more than welcome to unload in him any day he wanted, so long as he did it on camera like that and wore a condom (which Cody swore he was). Of course, I told Cody if he came, it was Cody's job to unpeel the condom and lick it clean, on camera preferably. The guy grunted with lust when he heard Cody reading the instructions, shooting a hefty load into him soon after. And then we all were treated to a show as Cody slowly popped off the fat cock, exposing the taut abs of the footballer, reached down and unpeeled the stretched sheath, feeding the drippy hot goop into his waiting mouth.

The footballer obviously had ideas of his own, wiping off the remaining juice from his stalk with his hand, and using it as lube to jack off Cody's own throbbing hard-on. He was in agony, thighs stretched and straining to keep him aloft of the guy's dick, still chomping on the rubber, dicksnot dripping down his throat, while the guy expertly manipulated his foreskin, smearing dickcheese over Cody's own slimy head, driving he jock insane. It was none to clean, but that didn't seem to stop him, relishing the chance to make Cody buck and leak, desperate not to cum without permission, let alone online. But the dam was near bursting, and as the dirty townie massaged his dicksleeve with one hand, and tweaked his nips with the other, Cody came with a roar, shooting gallons of cum towards the camera, his cockhead visibly pulsing as each load spurted out of his overloaded stalk. In the moment, his legs gave out, collapsing down onto the guy's sticky lap, cocksnot dripping from his lips as he panted. The guy kept kneeding his cock, sending him into overdrive, and making him buck from the manipulation, but stay achingly hard. With his free hand, he scopped scum off the keyboard, feeding it to Cody, adding it to his own load, and kept scooping it up. I quickly realised the guy must've told him not to swallow anything, because soon his mouth was overflowing with scum, the condom practically floating on his exposed tongue. The guy's own dick had hardened and snaked under Cody's, and he jerked them both hard, sending Cody to the edge of another orgasm. It was hot and perverse, watching cum drip from Cody's lips as he was fed more and more, his own cock drooling with a second load brewing. He made Cody pinch his own nips while rolling his cockhead, sending him over the edge and cumming another, more watery load. Cody yelped this time, more pain than pleasure. I wondered how many frat buddies had heard the fucking, or Cody's cry, and prick their ears towards the unmistakable sound of cock sucking. How many would then spot the townie when he left? This new twist of events could turn out to be a lot more than Cody had bargained for...