Date: Sat, 8 Sep 2007 13:24:50 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Smith <enslaved2str8@yahoo.com>
Subject: Bred by Mark--Chapter 2

BRED BY MARK -- CHAPTER 2

By Pete Smith


Over time, you become increasingly frustrated at my failure to get pregnant
with your baby.  You decide to step up your efforts.  When one weekend your
wife goes out of town with the kids to visit her family, you instruct me to
report to your house on Friday night.  You require me to make you dinner
and afterwards to gently massage your tired feet for a full hour.  You've
obtained a large supply of Viagra for the weekend and we both ingest some.

Over the course of the weekend, you breed me with your hard cock every two
hours like clockwork, depositing load after load of your straight
babymakers into my boypussy.  Of course, in between breedings you require
me to make you meals and give you regular deep-tissue massages.

You administer a pregnancy test to me every few hours and get increasingly
frustrated and angry when I fail to get pregnant.  You inform me that you
know you've got potent sperm.  (Even a lesbian couple asked you to be a
sperm donor, although you politely demurred, slightly uncomfortable with
the idea of lesbian parents.)  You conclude that the fertility problem
obviously must be with me.

Thereafter, you initiate a series of increasingly bizarre and painful
"fertility enhancement" techniques you claim to have discovered browsing
the Internet.

First, you order me to lie face down on your bed.  You then attach lengths
of rope to my wrists and ankles, securely fastening me to the bedposts.
You claim that by immobilizing my body in this way, your sperm have a
better chance of becoming implanted.  After you breed my hole a few times
with me securely tied to your bed, my arms and legs are aching and I beg
you to untie me.  This pisses you off and you claim it shows I don't really
want to have your baby after all.  When I delicately try to point out to
you that your "fertility enhancement" techniques are bullshit, you don't
reply.  Instead, you silently get off the bed and I can see you rummaging
around in your dirty clothes hamper.

A moment later you're standing next to my head, sharply instructing me to
"Open up your goddamn mouth."  When I open my mouth to again protest being
tied down, you quickly and expertly stuff a dirty athletic sock into my
mouth.  Taken aback, I next see you dangle one of your used jockstraps
before my face.  I can see how the pouch has been stretched out of shape
from holding your big cock and balls.  I can also see yellow piss stains.
My fascination with your jockstrap is interrupted when the garment
disappears from my vision.  A second later, you place the inside of the
jockstrap against my face, securing it firmly around my head with the
elastic straps.  You adjust the garment so that the inside of the pouch
entirely covers my nose.  When I breathe in a moment later, my brain is hit
with an intoxicating bouquet: the combined smell of your sweat, piss and
what seems like dried precum.  I take in a couple of sharp breaths, each
time holding your smells deep inside my lungs.  The aroma gives me a super
sex high like the finest pot on the face of the planet!

Over the next 12 hours, you mount my ass again and again, depositing what
feels like a gallon of hot cum deep in my guts.  Awed by your animal
stamina and seemingly endless supply of hot spooge, I passively accept your
forceful use of my hole.  In between breedings, I hear you watching TV or
making yourself a snack while I remain tied firmly to your bedposts.
Sometimes you just put a quick fuck to me before dumping your load in my
boypussy.  Other times, you put a long and leisurely fuck into me before
injecting me with your straight babymakers.  I quickly lose count of the
number of times my faggot clit explodes onto the sheets below me.  Just
when I think it is impossible for my clit to get hard again, you mount me
and my body responds automatically to being used by a real man like you.

Of course, you never lose sight of your mission and so continue to
administer regular pregnancy tests to me.  When I again fail them, you
decide to return to employing your painful and humiliating "fertility
enhancement" techniques.  One of these consists of your slapping my
asscheeks violently every time you bury your huge hard tool deep in my
pussy during the fuck.  You inform me that this technique heats my "baby
oven" and makes me more likely to conceive.

Inexplicably, this fails to deliver the desired results and so you move on
to yet another technique.

You report that one Internet website recommends a vigorous manual massage
and stretching of the woman's vagina to increase the chances of conception.
Implementation of this idea has me perplexed until you appear at the side
of the bed with a latex glove and a bottle of lube.  After pulling the
glove onto your right hand and lubricating it liberally, you disappear
behind me.  I feel you get up on the bed and a moment later feel your
gloved hand begin to work itself into my pussyhole.  It feels terrific to
have your fingers inside my hole.  It's a different feeling from your
awesome hard cock.  Somehow it's wild and dirty to know that your hand is
exploring my innards.

When I feel all four of your fingers inside my pussy and you start to work
your thumb in, I begin to get nervous.  What the fuck is this sex-crazed
stud trying to do to me? I wonder.  As your gloved hand continues to push
itself forward into me, panic hits my head and I break out in a sweat.  I
begin trying to protest through the dirty sock stuffed into my face and to
break free of the ropes securing me to your bed.  Only muffled desperate
noises escape from my mouth, though, and you've secured me so expertly to
the bed that I can hardly move at all.

"Take it easy, bitch," you tell me, apparently trying to calm me down.  "If
we really want this baby, we need to try every technique we can, even if
it's a little painful."

Strangely, I find your explanation reassuring and do my best to accept the
fertility treatment being administered by your gloved hand to my painfully
stretched hole.

A moment later your clenched fist pushes forcefully forward, inserting
itself fully inside my impossibly stretched rectum!

"Oh, yeah!  Way to go, bitch.  You've got my whole fuckin' fist up your
goddamn twat now.  I really think this is gonna do the trick!"

I feel real pride at your comment.

You begin gently pushing in and out of my hole, painfully breeding me with
your lubed fist.

After maybe 15 minutes of fist-fucking, I have cum spontaneously twice and
you withdraw your fist and replace it with your hard dripping cock.

By late Sunday afternoon you finally accept that your fertility experiments
have been unsuccessful.  You end up kicking me out of the house a couple of
hours before your wife and kids are due home, although not before making me
wash your bed sheets and clean the entire fucking house, so your wife will
be happy when she gets home!

I manage to drag myself home, filled to overflowing with your straight
babymakers.  It feels like your spooge is literally oozing out of my pores.
I immediately make my way to the bathroom, where I spend the next two hours
on the toilet expelling the seemingly endless supply of jizz you have
pumped deep into my guts.

I finally drag myself off the toilet and fall exhausted onto my bed.
Twelve hours later, I wake to find myself still dressed and with a bladder
that is ready to explode.  Still feeling exhausted, I decide to take my
piss sitting down in the shower stall with hot water streaming down on me.
Just as I finish pissing like a race horse, strange noises erupt from my
butt and a moment later more of your cum streams out of my ass and heads
toward the shower drain.  Fuck, it seems I'll be evacuating your spooge for
days!

As I walk back into my bedroom, I suddenly feel something kicking in my
stomach.  I stop dead in my tracks.  A bizarre thought instantly pops into
my head: Oh, my God!  Am I carrying Mark's baby?  This crazy thought is
dispelled a moment later when I hear my stomach grumbling.  Jeez, I realize
my stomach is grumbling because I haven't had anything the fuck to eat in
over 12 hours!  Shaking my head, I make my way to the kitchen to see what I
have in the frig to eat.  As I pull open the refrigerator door, an
overwhelming feeling of disappointment washes over me.  Somehow, as crazy
as it sounds, I desperately wanted to be able to give you what you had
demanded from me, but knew I never would be able to.  Tears stream down my
face as I stare blankly at the contents of the refrigerator.

By that evening it seems I had managed to evacuate most of your cum from my
guts, but I notice that I am starting to feel anxious and a little shaky.
Within a couple of hours, I'm sweating and trembling.  I seem to
experiencing some kind of withdrawal symptoms.  I lay down on my bed
feeling weak and a little sick.  My pants and underwear are lying on the
bed and I hold them against my body to comfort myself.  That's when I
notice it: The smell of your jizz in my briefs and jeans.  I was filled
with so much of your cum that some of it had leaked out of my ass into my
underwear and pants.  The strange thing was that the smell somehow made me
feel better.  I pulled my briefs into my face and took a few deep breaths.
Oh, fuck!  The smell instantly made my sick feelings fall away.  They were
replaced by a calm high in my mind and body.  I realize with a start that
my body had been going through some kind of withdrawal symptoms because it
was being deprived of your cum!

I try to dismiss this implausible idea, but soon after dropping my
underwear onto the floor beside the bed I start to feel anxious and sick
again.  These feelings are quickly relieved by retrieving my dirty briefs
and once again inhaling the strong smell of your cum.  This time I don't
want to take any chances with my health, so I gently lick the inside of the
pouch to take some of your dried spooge into my body.  Your cum again does
the trick and I quickly feel good.

By morning I have licked my briefs and jeans completely clean of your
residual cum and start to panic about how I am going to get my next fix.  I
jerk off and try smelling and tasting my own cum, but it doesn't have the
magical qualities of yours.  I begin to feel nervous and sick again.

Reluctantly, I call you on your cellphone while you're at work and ask if
it might be possible for us to get together soon.  You tell me no, you have
to work until five and then you and your wife have plans for the evening.
Feeling increasingly agitated, I blurt out that I have somehow become
addicted to your cum and need to get some more soon or I am really going to
be sick.  You pause for a moment, seemingly trying to figure out if this is
some kind of joke.  You realize from the desperation in my voice that it
isn't.  Then you just laugh and tell me that I must be some major kind of
freak to become addicted to a straight stud's spooge.  Your cruel laughter
is the last thing I hear before you hang up on me.

I am feeling really panicked now.  My hands are trembling and my stomach is
doing flip-flops.  Having no choice, I call you back and with tears
streaming down my face beg you to help me.  I'll pay you money, I offer.
Never the most ethical person in the world, you recognize a good thing when
you hear one and make me an offer: You will sell me a daily fix of Mark
spooge for $50 per serving.  Each morning you will leave a tied-off condom
of fresh jizz in the bushes at your house in exchange for cash.  The
arrangement seems humiliating to me, but I realize I have no choice and
readily agree.

I beg you for an early first installment.  Laughing out loud, you tell me
that for a special $100 "rush handling" fee you will jerk off a load as
soon as you get home from work and will leave the condom of fresh spooge in
the bushes for me.  I humbly thank you for your special consideration.

"Goddamn fuckin' freak!" is all you say before hanging up.

That night at home I heat your sperm in a big metal spoon over the stove
before using a plastic syringe to carefully suck up the precious fluid and
then inject it into my boypussy.  The fix of your hot jizz quickly makes my
body and mind feel warm and relaxed.  Soon, I am sleeping like a contented
baby who has just finished a warm bottle of milk.