What’s a life worth living? No one could answer that question. Or at least, they pretended not to know, but most knew it involved a wife, kids and a job to complain about. For Brady this wasn’t an option, or so he told himself. As a kid he was always the one that stood out. Not because of behavioral problems, but it was more because of the little things. Little hints and cues. He remembered that his father frowned a lot when he was around him. At that age he only knew that other people treated him differently and he didn’t know why.
He had since reached the ripe age of forty three and he still felt like the odd one out. No one seemed to get him. He had some friends and pleasant acquaintances, but as an adult he felt himself misunderstood. The same jokes that worked for others, somehow didn’t work for him. When he felt great inside, there was always someone who went out of his or her way to tear him down. He had the best of intentions, but people never seemed to appreciate them. For most of his days he tried to deny it, but he felt lonely and miserable inside.
The job he had didn’t offer much satisfaction either. He told himself that he was a valuable member of the community. By taking on a non-tenured position at the local university he helped the students in his class to reach their full potential. By bestowing them with knowledge and wisdom he would leave an indelible footprint behind and encourage them to do great things in their lives. He stood in front of those class rooms full of eager young students as a proud role model of the community. One they should aspire to emulate.
The salary he received every month told a different story. He was paid less than a meat processing worker, he was easily replaced and the students he sought to influence were as petty and selfish as the ones in high school. He had begrudgingly come to accept that modern colleges and universities were nothing more than corporate hedge funds with pay-to-win schools attached, meant to squeeze as much money from the students and their parents as conceivably possible. And they ruthlessly exploited the intellectual vanities of everyone who wasn’t tenured. He may as well have taken on a position at a high school, as it would have probably paid more and given better job satisfaction, but the myth of the university as a center of higher learning and excellence wouldn’t let him go.
At least he could tell people that he was a university teacher!
How else would he impress the men? It was true that he wasn’t entirely bad looking, but it never seemed to work out. They always made some excuse after a while. He could see in their eyes that they were somehow disappointed in him. Always that disappointment. It was the same look he saw in the eyes of his father all those years ago and it made him all the more depressed when he was reminded of it.
It was on one of his bad days that he got a message on one of the many dating apps he had on his phone. He had since begun exploring the fetish apps, hoping to find an answer to his misery and crushing loneliness. The men on those apps called him fag, boy and subhuman scum. They wanted to abuse and belittle him. Use him as a hole and pump him full of their cum. Some wanted to use him as a toilet. They wanted to piss in his mouth and force him to eat out their asses.
He was hard as a rock and wet like a boat reading all those messages. They were the same things that he had read about in all those fetish stories that he had found online. Not only were there stories, but also little moving illustrations and hot-as-fuck videos. Everything right on the tiny screen of his shitty smartphone. He woke up reading those stories and he went to bed jacking off to those videos. It was a non-stop and unending stream of smut and filth.
And now he was getting messages from the same guys as talked about in those addictive stories. Some were even kind of hot. They seemed to speak to something inside of him that made him come alive. That made him feel like he had a place in this world after all. That he had some purpose and meaning. He knew that he shouldn’t feel like that. That it was just the adrenaline, dopamine and constant exposure to porn. That he was in a bad place in his life, but he felt like he could really crawl out of that hole by indulging in this sweet-as-fuck fantasy. He would finally leave this hole behind by becoming a hole for other men. The joke wasn’t lost on him.
But he needed a good one. One that would do him right.
Like most incorrigible fags he would seek out the best looking men and throw himself at their feet, ignoring all others. He would literally beg them for any morsel of attention that they would throw his way. He was shocked at how easy it came to him. That he could degrade himself so effortlessly. As if something else was speaking through him. It terrified him to no end but he kept on doing it. At this point he was also posting more explicit pictures of himself on those apps. He went from safe-for-work Grindr pics to unabashed faggotry. His hole, cock and face could all be seen in the same pics. His heart was racing and his hands were trembling when he first put them on his profile. And in the first 24 hours of those pics being online he would constantly beat himself off, so hot and horny it made him.
The replies to those pics sent him to faggot heaven. They were absolutely ravenous in their encouragement and vicious in their humiliating trash talk. He had arranged the pics in such a way that they would chronicle his descent into faggotry. From dressed for work to completely exposed fag and the whole gamut in-between.
He had to put his phone down and seriously take a break for at least a couple of days after that. He felt like his mind was ready to explode. His skin was crawling underneath his hair, his shoulders were tensing up, and he was constantly breaking out in sweats. He couldn’t even look at the messages, much less think of them. It all became too much.
It was the first break in months that he took from his phone. He even stopped looking at all the filth online on his laptop and work computer. This was his moment of calm within the storm.
But it didn’t last long.
After swearing off that entire world and vowing that he would never return, he just couldn’t let that one message go. He thought that he had shut them all down but he must have missed that one app. He was planning to delete them all, but he couldn’t because he still had to delete the profiles before doing so. And doing so would reignite his desperation and lust. He also had to cancel the subscriptions for several. He was actually paying these Big Tech assholes for the privilege of becoming a faggot. The shame hit him like a ton of bricks.
He was actually so pissed off at the thought of losing so much money to these assholes that he didn’t quite understand what he was reading until it finally sunk in. Someone he knew had seen the pictures on his profile and had messaged him! It was as if his heart stopped.
This wasn’t happening.
“Fucking hell. You really are a faggot, aren’t you? I thought you were just messing around at first but this? What the hell were you thinking, boy?”
The blood drained from his face and the only things that he heard were the deafening silence and his own panicked heartbeat. The little avatar pic in the message was unmistakable. The utter sense of embarrassment overwhelmed all other thoughts and nailed his feet to the ground. He stopped dead in his tracks. He was walking over the campus grounds at the time and other passersby were miffed at what must have been a smartphone-zombie getting so distracted that he forgot that he was walking.
After the initial wave of embarrassment, denial and abject horror, it was his anger that finally brought him back to the world of the living. He took a couple of hesitant steps forward, while staring at the image on his phone. It couldn’t have been some hot student in his class, he thought. Oh, no, it had to be some bearded fuck that got tenure at this university. How he instantly fumed with envy and spite.
He immediately raced to look at the profile of this professor and there was absolutely nothing on it. It was a blank profile, other than the one pic. And the timestamp of the pic showed that it was uploaded that very hour. He thought that he had blocked every profile that was at least within a ten mile radius of his location at work but there it was. The profile seemed to have emerged out of nowhere to curse his very being. To haunt his existence! To make his life a living hell!
He felt like the rug had been pulled right out from under him.
What was this asshole going to do with this info? They were at a university. It was the mecca for liberal-progressives. Homosexuality was pretty much a hallowed institution here. To call yourself queer was now the hot thing to do. These people were absolutely insane about the rainbow. But he was also a middle-aged white man and now-a-days they were at the bottom of the hierarchy. Not only that, but the coddling of American students had made every accusation of sexual impropriety at universities a career death sentence. You used to be able to fuck around with your students, but not anymore. Now even an ‘unwanted’ hug or single wrong look would get you fired.
With those pictures out there he was really walking on thin ice. Even if they wanted to hide things under the rug, he wasn’t sure that they would be able to do so. The only thing that he got going for him was that he hadn’t posted them under his real name but this fucker could change that easily.
“I see you online, faggot. I want you to take all these profiles down like a good little boy. There’s no more need for any of it. You’ve handed me all the pictures that I would ever need of you. You’re mine now and you’re going to act like it, boy. I want them scrubbed within thirty minutes. And yes, I also found the one on that human toilet site. What a doozy!”
It was then that a warm sensation began to creep between his legs. He looked down and to his surprise he saw that he had pissed his own pants out of fear. The despair, embarrassment and utter humiliation were complete. He had pissed himself in public. He immediately took off his jacket to cover the mishap but the devastation was complete. He was gone. It was over. He was not coming back from this. He wanted to fucking cry. To unleash all those tears that he had been holding back for all those years. He was a humiliated wreck.
Why can’t I be a normal person, he yammered to himself, while he hurriedly made his way to his crappy car. “I hate this world. I truly do.”
In the car he knew that he wasn’t going to fix a piss-soaked crotch without changing his pants anytime soon. He phoned the university administration and cryptically told them that he wasn’t going to be able to make the rest of his classes. Then he immediately started accessing all of the many apps and websites on his phone, to wipe them all clean, just as he had been instructed.
He felt sick to his stomach being confronted with all the smut and filth that he had put out there. What the hell was he thinking. He had completely lost it! When he reached the last app, through which the professor had contacted him, he scrubbed the profile clean of pics and text but let the account stay up.
He wish he hadn’t.
He could only take a breather for a couple of minutes to contemplate his fate, when he received his next message.
“Good boy. Just as obedient as I expected you to be. And you got them all as well! Good job.”
And the next couple of messages kept flooding in.
“Boys like you always need their daddy to tell them what to do. Otherwise look what would happen if they don’t. They would make a complete mess of things.”
“Do you realize that you would never work again if those pictures ever got out under your full name? Forget about university, you wouldn’t be able to teach at a single school in the entire country. Not even a Californian high school would take you on and we both know what those are like. ”
“I’m going to love making you my faggot, boy. Now where is my gratitude?”
Brady was at his wit’s end. The professor’s words sliced like a razor through his mind. He had the worst migraine that he had ever felt before. All of the things he said were true. And what’s more, he was left at his complete mercy. He had handed himself over to this fucker without ever thinking about the real world consequences.
Faggots could only exist in the bowels of the internet. They were make-believe. They had no right to exist in the real world! This shit was more dangerous than a shotgun in the hands of a five-year-old. This would devastate your entire life.
He needed time to think but his every instinct told him that this wasn’t a man you could let wait.
“Thank you, Sir, for saving me from my own stupidity. I apologize profusely, Sir. I should never have inconvenienced you with my faggotry. I beg you to forgive me, Sir. This should have never happened. Please forgive me, Sir!”
It was as if the voice that had been speaking through him for all those months had finally found its true purpose. It just felt so goddamn natural to talk like a sniveling faggot. As if he was born this way. To grovel and humiliate himself before better men. Even the searing migraine got less severe when he messaged those words.
“Felt good writing out those words, didn’t it, boy? But they’re meaningless if they’re left unspoken. I want you to report to my office in one hour. I want to hear you say those words. I want to look into your eyes and see the sincerity of your remorse as you say them.”
“And don’t be late, faggot.”
How did this asshole know what he felt like? What kind of guy was he dealing with? He knew barely anything about him. He had seen him walk around on campus before but that was pretty much all. This was getting more terrifying and unnerving by the minute but the faggot voice inside of him had already typed out a response.
“Thank you, Sir. Yes, Sir!”
He wanted to slam his head into the steering wheel in front of him. This wasn’t happening. He kept muttering those words to himself as he sat there staring at his piss-soaked crotch. He suddenly felt the urge to throw up and it was through quick thinking alone that his crappy car didn’t also get a permanent puke smell on top of it. He left a puddle of puke behind him on the parking lot as he drove off to find himself a new pair of pants.
He couldn’t return to his apartment. The traffic alone would make it impossible. He got paid so badly that he could only afford an apartment that was located two hours away on a good day. His best option was to buy new ones. He would have to walk into a clothing store smelling like piss to get himself new pants. The reek had gotten pretty bad at this point. As if it wasn’t embarrassing enough that he had to cover his wet crotch with his jacket, but he also had to deal with the smell? What had he gotten himself into?
-
He had five minutes to spare when he arrived at the building that held the professor’s office. He was so relieved that he almost started hyperventilating out of sheer joy. He had rushed to get himself a new pair of jeans in town. The saleslady that helped him looked down on him in pity, as if he was an elderly person that just had a little mishap. It made him feel so incredibly bad about himself that he almost broke out in tears again but he shook it off and made his way back to the campus grounds. He headed straight for the university gym.
He realized that he was in an absolute state of panic when he was standing under one of the showerheads trying not to get his hair wet. On his way back he had almost shat himself from the nervous state that he was in. He had to take a big smelly dump before he finally could take a shower and he was glad that he did. After he had shat, showered and rinsed his filthy mouth with mouthwash, he almost felt like a new man. But he realized that he wasn’t really a man any longer. He had become something else and he was dreading to look the professor in the eyes and to see through him what he had become.
With one minute to spare he nervously knocked on the door of the professor’s office. He had found it on the university’s intranet.
“Come on in.” He heard through the door.
It was the moment he was dreading.
The professor was sitting behind his desk, with his elbows on the desk table, his hands folded into each other. The look on his face was one of wry amusement and sly skepticism. It was obvious that the professor was a handsome man, but he had very rough facial features that he tried to soften with a delicate pair of silver glasses. This wasn’t a man you would automatically assume was a professor. His forehead almost made him out to be a caveman. The combination of a snazzy conservative haircut and a well-groomed beard did much to bring him back to the civilized world.
“Well hello there. And what brings you to this office at this fine hour? Can I help you with something?” He looked genuinely surprised at Brady’s arrival.
It threw him off completely. What was happening? Was he playing a trick on him? Some sort of test? Was the picture on that profile really nothing more than a catfish prank? He had all this time assumed that he was interacting with the person depicted on that anonymous profile but it could have been virtually anyone. It seemed to occur to him that the picture in that profile could have easily been lifted from a Facebook profile, but when he had quickly checked on Facebook, he didn’t see it anywhere on the professor’s sparsely furnished page.
“You silly fags are always so easily fooled.” He suddenly said with a warm voice, laughing heartily.
He slowly rose and nodded one time in the direction of the chair in front of his desk.
“Go ahead and take a seat. Take a load off. We’ve got some things to discuss, you and I.”
Brady wanted to lash out in anger over the cruel joke. He wasn’t in the mood for this, but his inner fag piped up instead and started apologizing and thanking the professor. He heard the words coming out of his mouth and couldn’t believe what a groveling weasel of a man he had become.
He saw a small flicker of contempt in the eyes of the man that had invited him here but it disappeared again behind his warm smile. The fear he felt in response was of a primal sort. He truly felt that this was the lair of a predator and he was lured here as prey.
“Let me introduce myself. I’m professor Sinclair. Cliff Sinclair. My pronouns are Sir and Daddy.” And held out his hand. The joke made Brady smile but he couldn’t get past the fear. His nerves were shot. He timidly looked up and made eye contact with professor Sinclair and saw deep and dark blue eyes stare back at him. These were the eyes of someone or something that understood the nature of human fear. A shiver ran down his spine as he took his hand and felt the strong handshake. The professor’s grip was strangely reassuring. He knew that he was emotionally all over the place but that handshake also felt so extremely good that he began to tell himself that his instincts were wrong and that there was nothing to fear here. Things would work out. They simply must. If they didn’t, then this would fucking ruin him.
Brady introduced himself as ‘professor’ Richardson. Brady Richardson. And Sinclair finished the joke. “And your pronouns are fag and boy.” Brady heard the words and laughed nervously at the joke but hearing him say those words out loud made his skin crawl.
“You must understand that things can’t go on as they have been.” His expression turned sterner but the friendliness was still present. “The university has a reputation to maintain and your antics may damage it.”
“We’ve noticed your online activities and they’ve left us very concerned. They do not conform to the code of conduct that the university has established. The code is there in order to navigate safely through these sensitive times. Cancellations are very much a concern of the university and what you have been doing is simply unacceptable.”
“We understand that you have a healthy need to express your sexuality. And you’re free to do so at your leisure. We would even encourage you to pursue your feelings in this regard. But a line has been crossed here. And do not misunderstand me. The things that you’ve been doing have every right to exist. But when the interests of the university come in conflict with those of the individual, well, the latter’s interests will typically fall to the wayside.”
He paused.
“The bigger ship has the right of passage. And you’re the little ship in this analogy.” He resumed, making it perfectly clear.
Brady had no idea how to respond to this. He was still reeling from the suggestion that more than one had noticed his activities.
He incredulously stammered “We-e-e-e?” And Professor Sinclair took the cue.
“Yes, as you well know, homosexuality is a thing cherished by the university and as you can expect, there are many staff members quite active in the scene. Your name came up in a meeting and we discussed the ramifications of what your conduct may have for the university.”
Brady fell completely silent. The room started to rotate around him. It was almost like he was about to faint, but he wasn’t quite there yet. The thought kept ringing through his mind. More than one university staff member knew that he was a raging fag?
“I understand that this may come as a shock to you, but is it really that surprising? You should really have known better. You were active on so many websites and apps. It was difficult – even for our most diehard members – to keep track of them all.”
Professor Sinclair was looking at him with genuine amusement. “We really had no idea. I always thought that you were simply a bit shy. But as they say. It’s always the silent ones.”
Brady wanted to sink into the floor and fade away, with not even his name a faint whisper to be remembered by anyone.
“Oh, cheer up. It’s not that bad. So everyone knows that you’re fag. At least now it has come to my attention and I’ll be taking you under my wing.”
Brady looked up after hearing those words and stutteringly asked him what he meant with ‘taking him under his wing.’
“You’re clearly miserable. There are so many lost fags like you in the world. And sometimes a man decides to take one under his wing. As a toy. Or plaything. Or pet project.”
“I know that you’ve tried your best. That you’ve given it your all and things still haven’t worked out for you, but sometimes you simply have to leave it to someone with more capable hands. That’s what society is all about after all.”
“I’m going to take you on as my fag and show you that things don’t have to be this bad for you anymore.”
Brady was completely flabbergasted. The information began to slowly sink into his mind and he felt a wellspring of emotions stir inside of him. He wanted so badly to believe what the professor was saying that tears started to well up, but the thoughts in his mind were bouncing all over the place. Concerns and fears started rampaging through the landscape of his mind.
He finally said that he didn’t believe him. This was all a cruel prank and then the tears started to flow in earnest. He was blubbering like a schoolboy. He yelled that he shouldn’t play around with people’s feelings like that.
Professor Sinclair deftly interdicted: “But you’re not really a person, now are you? You’re a fag and you need this. You crave this. It’s what you’re meant for. You belong on your knees, faggot.”
“Show me what you are!” He exclaimed with a natural authority that wound its way around the disturbed mind of Brady and slowly began to choke out the raging storm of insecurity inside of him.
“Get on your knees, faggot!” He yelled again, after Brady hesitated. The ferocity of the professor’s anger left Brady shaken.
The faggotry had festered in Brady’s mind for so long that his knees slowly found the ground and he was absolutely disgusted with himself after that symbolic act of submission, but he also knew that this was the most perfect expression of all of his lust, desire and anguish that he had felt over the years. Yet, despite this, his personal sense of defeat was so crushing that he began to weep again. His chest was heaving out of anguish and he tried to cover his eyes out of a lingering sense of shame. What did he do to himself! What did they do to him! He didn’t deserve this! He didn’t deserve any of it!
Professor Sinclair walked towards him, gently took Brady’s jaw in his hand and made him look up. Brady was so emotional and ashamed that he did everything in his power to avoid eye contact, but the commanding presence of Professor Sinclair was undeniable. He finally met his eyes and saw the strangely cold blue eyes peering into him.
“There is the faggot that I know and love.”
“Don’t you know that God has made you in his image?” He said reassuringly with a compassionate voice.
“Do you know which God I’m talking about?” And he bellowed. “I’m your fucking God now and I will turn you into whatever I damn well please! Pray that I will turn you into a thing of beauty, faggot!”
“Now beg, faggot. Beg!”
Words so indescribably sincere and desperate left his lips in the moments that followed, that he felt that he was pouring his heart for the very first time in his life and professor Sinclair looked down on the faggot and said.
“Fuck, this is going to be great. I love the sensitive ones. They make for such good sport.”
The words were so cruel that it shocked Brady out of his confession.
“You poor little fag. I’m going to plant my seed in you now and make you mine. It will be the start of everything. But the duration of that journey is entirely up to you. Show me who you are, faggot.”
“Stand up!”
Professor Sinclair took a step back and looked menacingly at Brady until he slowly rose to his full height. Between the two, professor Sinclair had the height and the weight advantage. The mental domination was complemented by the physical and each aspect worked in unison to establish the complete dominance that professor Sinclair held over him.
Brady was wiping away the tears and snot from all the blubbering that he had done only moments ago, when he received his next order.
“Lower your pants and bend over the desk. Show me the ass you have to offer me. I’m after all going to be making frequent use of it. Now aren’t I, faggot?”
It was then that Brady understood the true reality of the things to come. He was going to be used like a fag and the thought once again made him hesitate. Despite his many months on those dirty apps and filthy websites he had never physically given in to his disgusting feelings of faggotry. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn’t leave the many years of caution and fear behind him. It had defined his life as a gay man.
“Look at that. You still think that I’m playing a prank on you. After everything that you just showed me. You’ve cried out your little faggot heart in front of me.”
“I’m here for you, faggot. But you’ve got to earn this. You’ve got to earn it every single damn time. You need this more than I do. Always remember that! This is an act of kindness and compassion. And I will make you bleed for it, faggot. Bleed.”
“Assume the fucking position.”
Brady was starving for sex but he was also emotionally exhausted and spent. After going through such a rollercoaster ride of feelings, a pervasive passivity took hold of him and he decided to simply do what he was being told. It would have been the best way to get through this. He didn’t know what his newfound daddy was going to do to him, but the role of the faggot was clear. He was there to be used and abused and his daddy could do whatever he wanted with him.
He took a couple of steps towards the desk, leaned over and lowered his pants to expose his ass. His newfound daddy immediately let out a chuckle.
“No boxers, really? Every fag has a one track mind and you’re no exception. Fucking hot.”
Embarrassment flooded through Brady’s mind. He was actually too ashamed at the time to also buy new underwear in that clothing store. The pitying look that the saleslady gave him continued to haunt him even now.
Then Brady felt a pair of hands tenderly cup his ass cheeks, upon which the hands started to move around and caress his full ass. It felt amazing but he knew that fags were nothing more than holes to be used and waited for the inevitable other penny to drop. However, the hands kept on caressing his ass and spread out to slide under his shirt over his sensitive sides and then into his pants to move over his thighs, after which they kept coming back to his ass.
He then felt professor Sinclair close the distance between them and press his upper body into his back. His bare and sensitive ass felt the throbbing hardness that lay hidden below the layers of clothes of professor Sinclair’s crotch.
“I sense that you desperately crave the touch of another man. Has it really been that long? What the hell were you doing, boy? You need to meet those needs.” Brady whimpered in response, he wanted to cry again at the recollection of so many lost years, but there were no more tears left.
“I’m going to make a confession to you.” He said, while his hands caressingly made their way under Brady’s shirt to his heaving chest and ticklish stomach.
“I’m only doing this because I think you’re sort of hot. Don’t get me wrong. You’re a sniveling coward and a pathetic excuse for a man. But you’ve got something that I find appealing.” And his hand slid up to Brady’s neck and started applying pressure, who instinctively tried to free himself from the one-hand chokehold. Professor Sinclair let him and after reassuringly patting him on his neck, caressingly slid his hand farther up to the side of Brady’s face.
“You’re just so goddamn desperate and sensitive. Like a flower growing out of a heap of dung. I want to fuck you so badly. Like you were one of my boyfriends. But you need to understand that you’re never going to be my boyfriend.” Professor Sinclair breathed heavily into his ear. “You’ll just be my fag. And you’re always going to be my fag.” Brady both loved and hated the words that were just whispered into his ear.
It was then that Professor Sinclair’s hands returned to Brady’s bare ass and started caressing them again. “I want to rim your hungry hole but you’re not going to shit and fart in my face, now are you, fag? You sensitive types always tend to shit out things when they get emotional.”
Brady felt his head suddenly being pulled back by the hair. He quickly yelped out his denial. That he would never even dream of doing such a thing! But professor Sinclair wouldn’t let go.
“Men live by their promises. Faggots just make them. But I’m going give you what you need. Don’t disappoint me.”
The next thing Brady felt was his hair being freed and moments later two hands parting his ass cheeks and then a bushy chin moving closer to his fag hole. The beard felt great between his cheeks, as if it belonged there, but the wet sensation of a warm tongue sliding teasingly around his asshole was the thing that made the experience complete. He let himself groan out of pleasure as the tongue teased his hole like it was a woman’s wet cunt. This was more than he deserved. He should be punished. Brutally beaten. Punched in the face and sucker punched in the stomach, but instead his hole was being teased by the man who would call himself his daddy. The man who was making him his fag.
When the mesmerizing anal pleasure stopped, Brady audibly sighed.
“You’ve had enough, faggot. I was just opening you up. Don’t want to rip open your hole on the first try, now do I?”
He heard how professor Sinclair was unbuttoning his shirt and tearing open his pants.
“Did you know that your hole has little blond hairs around it? Pretty hot, fag. Really fucking hot. That hole of yours was made to get fucked.”
“Now stay put.”
Professor Sinclair left his spot behind Brady and walked around the desk to rustle up a tube of lube from a desk drawer and returned. But before he did, he grabbed Brady by the jaw and planted a kiss on his lips. He didn’t stop kissing until both their tongues were sensually swirling around in each other’s mouths. His prickly beard teased the sensitive skin under Brady’s nose and around his lips. It felt amazing.
Brady couldn’t believe this was happening. This must have been a dream, but he knew that it was just the start of a nightmare. This alpha was going to fuck him up, just like fags deserve. He didn’t know how, but it was going to happen.
“I’m going to make you mine, faggot. All mine.” And Brady saw in the eyes of his newfound daddy a loving hunger that wanted to devour him whole.
“Take off your shirt and bend over again.”
“Do it, boy. What are you waiting for?” Brady felt his old insecurities return. He never felt comfortable taking off his shirt. It was true that he had a reasonably developed upper torso, but he lacked the confidence that other men showed when taking off their shirt. He had seen the lush chest hair on his newfound daddy’s broad chest and took that as another sign of his own inferiority. He could never grow much chest hair, whereas his father had all the chest hair he could ever want on his powerful breast. He felt absolutely inferior compared to both men. But a fag doesn’t have a choice, he does what he’s told. He was a thing to be used and so he did what he was ordered to do.
When he had removed his shirt, professor Sinclair’s hand slid over his chest and playfully ran his fingers over the one spot on his chest where he did have some fur. Then Brady held his head to the side under the direction of the professor so that he could comfortably look over his shoulder from behind and inspect the patch.
“Blond chest hair! I’ve always wanted a faggot with blond fur. It’s just so delicate, just like you.” With his other hand he slid upwards alongside Brady’s face and into his hair, only to end up purposely ruffling it up. It was the one thing that he absolutely hated but he was powerless to say anything about it. His daddy noticed his chagrin nevertheless and gave him a little corrective tap on the back of his head.
“You look cute. Don’t worry about it. Now brace yourself, faggot.” And he pushed Brady down again on the desk. Brady still hadn’t seen the size of his daddy’s member and he feared the worst. He could take a dick like the best of them but it usually took longer than most before he could comfortably take them inside. His dry spell of many months didn’t help either. He also hadn’t been playing around with toys and was left woefully unprepared for this.
He remembered that fags always had to keep their holes for the ready and winced at the thought of even falling short of being a fag. The most worthless and pathetic creatures of all. He resolved there and then to take his newfound daddy’s dick like a champ, even if it killed him. He wanted to make his daddy proud. The idea warmed him up inside and the emotional exhaustion grew more distant. The more he was drawn into this ritual of getting made the property of his newfound daddy, the more he felt better about himself. As if someone or something was watering the wilted flower that was once his pathetic soul.
He felt a sudden pressure between his cheeks and the presence of a powerful hand. Professor Sinclair was lining his dick up for entry and began pushing his dick into Brady’s asshole. The natural resistance of his asshole slowly began to cave to the unrelenting pressure of the unseen dick between his cheeks. The harder professor Sinclair pushed, the more Brady began to arch his back. A sudden rush of adrenaline shot through him when the dick was pushed through his last remaining defenses. The tension that had built up in his shoulders almost drained away immediately as his breathing intensified.
Brady had always had difficulty with anal sex. He found it both disgusting as pleasurable. The pleasure never felt the way he wanted it to feel, however. It was always just out of reach but clearly there. He had since grown to accept that frustration as a part of anal but he never felt completely at ease with it. Anal sex had other drawbacks as well. Filthy fingers always ended up in his mouth for some reason and the sounds could be brutal. He both hated and loved it, but understood that this was his lot in life. He was resigned to his fate as a fuck hole, even before he learned about the idea of fags.
His first boyfriend had been a jock. He thought himself lucky at the time that a big handsome muscled jock wanted to be with him but the relationship was everything but satisfying. The jock just used him for sex and they had absolutely nothing in common. Soon the jock began to lash out due to what must have been a combination of frustration, boredom and a lack of connection. He began hitting Brady after heated arguments and began to sexually humiliate him. Seemingly at random he forced Brady’s face into his sweaty armpits, especially after he came back from work-outs or runs. He also started shoving dirty socks into the mouth of Brady during the heat of intercourse, where he held him down and started pounding his ass so hard that his muffled screams could no longer be heard over the sound of the two men fucking.
It sounded like the dreamlife of any fag but as an innocent young man he wanted to build a life and explore the world together. He wanted to watch sunsets on the beach while holding hands and simply enjoy each other’s company. He didn’t realize yet that it didn’t get any better than his first relationship. The boyfriends that followed were less attractive and all tended to emotionally and sexually abuse him in some form or the other. As soon as he struck up a relationship with someone, he was already counting the days until the first snide remark would cut him down.
People in general were cruel but gay men in specific were even crueler. It was as if he naturally drew out their vicious nature and invited them to unleash all their frustration, anger and self-loathing out on him. The world wasn’t a fair place. He had known this from a very early age but he always held out hope that it would get better. It didn’t. It just got more messy and real.
But his newfound daddy’s dick felt great inside of him. The professor was taking it really slow and drove it in with a gentle but firm resolve. After he had driven it in to the hilt, he pulled Brady up from the desk and embraced him in his arms. He started fucking him then in earnest, while moving his powerful hands around all over Brady’s bare upper torso with a tender and loving passion. It was as if the professor was taking possession of him in the most intimate way possible. He heard him panting in his ear, while he felt his ass being ravaged underneath.
Brady wanted to give himself over to the professor there and then. He wanted to enjoy this rare moment of tenderness and passion. He wanted to learn to appreciate his every movement and touch. He wanted it all and to surrender completely to his embrace.
His fears had always held him back. They were justified fears and stood as testament to a life lived in misery as a gay man, but he wanted to leave that sorry life behind him and start anew in the arms of his new daddy.
“You fucking faggot. I love the way your ass feels.” The words of the professor brought him back out of his delirious reverie of lust and desire.
“I’m going to fuck you hard.” And he pushed Brady down on the desk again, grabbed his hips with both of his hands and started pounding his ass with a playful gyrating rhythm. It was something Brady had never felt before. The professor was giving a slight twist to his every firm thrust and it drove Brady wild with lust. It was such a curious new sensation. It gave an entirely new experience to the normal pumping action that he had always felt with all of his previous boyfriends and fuckbuddies.
It took only a couple of moments before he started moaning in earnest from the pleasure that was building up inside of his ass.
“You like that, don’t you, boy? I love it when fags enjoy it.”
And the professor started pounding harder, giving to each thrust a slight gyrating twist, that made Brady moan even louder than he had before.
What the hell was happening to him? He had never felt this way before from getting fucked. The full experience of getting fucked had always been unreachable for him. He was painfully jealous of the faggots that were able to get so thoroughly off from getting fucked that they shot their loads in quivering ecstasy and trembled all over from pleasure afterwards. This felt like he was actually getting there. Like the asshole was not only meant to be used by other men, but also meant to give the faggot genuine spine-tickling pleasure.
The rapturous delight of the thorough ass-pounding actually made his toes tingle and his legs weak. Years of built up tension and stress started to lift from his body. The general feeling of electrified satisfaction made his scalp prickle with release. He shuddered as the excitement and anticipation that grew made his back arch and his moans ever louder.
“Keep it down, faggot.” The professor absently growled, as the sweating and panting man was pounding away with a delirious obsession. But Brady was swept away by the throes of ecstasy and was beyond the reach of the professor’s verbal commands.
“Goddamn it.” And the professor grabbed Brady’s mouth to try to muffle his moans. It worked only briefly as Brady kept gasping for air, only to resume the loud moaning when he was free from the hand once again. The professor in turn started shoving his fingers inside, which finally put a stop to most of the excessive moaning of his new charge.
“You’re … one … wild … faggot.” He said with ragged breath. The moment was coming near. The professor felt that he was closer than he was comfortable admitting. If he didn’t take it slower of stopped altogether, he would shoot his load and he wanted it to last longer for the faggot’s first time with him. He wanted it to be as memorable as possible. He wanted to completely own this faggot. Make him his boy from now until the moment he would ruthlessly discard him as a used up cumrag.
This faggot was his property and he was going to take every inch of him and then some.
Brady seemed to lose all sense of time as his bodily sensations completely engulfed and swept away his mind. He was fully enraptured by the moment. There was no more need for thought, for useless feelings and crippling emotions. This moment was all that he had ever wanted and needed. The inner pleasure was so overwhelming that it seemed to make his every muscle tingle out of a helpless longing for release.
When he started spurting out thick strands of white semen out of his quivering cock and quaking balls, he became the faggot that he had always been. This was his moment suprême. The pleasure surged through his being. It was then that professor Sinclair started noticing his fag’s hole starting to clamp down on his throbbing dick. The hole started contracting uncontrollably. The new sensation around his cock finally drove him over the edge and he too started spurting out thick strands of white semen deep inside of Brady. He began moaning wildly, letting himself fall on top of his fag, whereupon he slid his arms around him in a sheltering embrace, as the muscles in his ass kept on contracting, pumping whatever was left from the cum in his balls into Brady’s longing and aching body.
Both of them were raggedly breathing from the exhaustion and enjoying the sweet and pleasurable aftermath on the desk. Brady enjoyed the weight of the heavily breathing body of his daddy on his back. His daddy’s big dick was still inside of him. He was unable to move without pushing his newfound daddy off of him and loved being so powerless. Having to wait for his daddy to make the first move made the intimacy even deeper.
“That was really good, faggot.” Brady finally heard professor Sinclair whisper into his ear. The professor’s heavy breathing was winding down and he started to wipe the sweat from his brow.
“Really good.”
“And to be honest, it shouldn’t have been that good. But d-a-a-a-a-m-n.”
He distractedly pushed himself off Brady and rose to his full height. Moments later Brady heard a rasping gasp.
“Look at what you did to my cock?!” The professor exclaimed. Brady was still too exhausted to move and tried to look behind him, where he saw his daddy look down on his own half-throbbing member that had grown completely red from the fuck session.
“I swear, it’s never been this sore in my life. And I even fucking used lube.”
“Look what you made me do! Get down here, faggot. And ease my fucking pain.”
The full weight of the day’s experience was boring down on Brady at that point. The emotional and physical exhaustion was complete and the only thing that he wanted to do now was sleep, but instead he dragged himself off the desk and descended to his knees in front of his daddy. He felt his daddy’s cum leak out of his ass while he did so.
He sluggishly took the half-throbbing member of the professor in his hand and brought it to his mouth, which he then started to lick with his tongue and take inside. The inner faggot took over and he started slobbering all over that dick, gently caressing it and teasingly sucking it. The taste was disgusting, but nothing that he hadn’t grown used to over the years. Practically all of his boyfriends had demanded the ‘aftercare treatment.’ He resented them all for it but he never said no. That alone should have clued him in what a faggot he had always been.
To his satisfaction he heard his daddy approvingly moan, who then let his hands run through Brady’s hair.
“You’re such a good little faggot.” He murmured, as the hands ruffled through Brady’s hair.
After a brief period, and with a muffled groan, the professor had another orgasm, this time a smaller one. Only a small spurt of cum shot into the warm and yearning mouth of his fag. It came as a surprise to both and it was so intense that the professor had to push away Brady’s head. A couple of drops more leaked out onto the floor when the painfully red and half-engorged member dangled helplessly in the air. It fitfully throbbed a couple of times more, as if it was still trying to spit out more of his cum.
“Goddamn it, faggot. You really know how to get it done.” He laughingly muttered.
He approached the kneeling faggot again and gently put his hands on the sides of Brady’s face, who looked up with a loving smile and sleepy eyes. Brady was licking the last drops of his daddy’s cum from his lips and was kind of hoping for more, but knew that he had to wait.
“I’m going to be needing access to your financials now, faggot.”
Brady was shocked wide awake by the unexpected words.
“You didn’t think that this was it, now did you? The university always takes it’s due. You’ll be paying the university now for the privilege of teaching here. You’ll be serving us. I’ll be controlling every dollar that you make.”
The professor saw the look of absolute shock and despair on his fag’s face, who tried to sputter and reason with his daddy.
A harsh slap to the face showed him his place.
“I’ve read your file. You make less than the janitors here. You’re going to have to work off your debt in trade.”
“I don’t even think you’re going to be able to afford your shitty apartment now. But I’ve got just the place in mind.”
“I know, life isn’t fair. It knocks you down and then kicks you in the face when you try to get up. Life won’t ever give you a break.”
“But that’s okay. You’re making my life better by just thinking about your shitty fate.” He laughed.
“A faggot wouldn’t even know how to be happy without a daddy showing him the way in the first place.”
“This is all for the best. Just you wait and see.”
The End
(Tell me what you think.)
