Date: Mon, 17 Apr 2017 15:10:47 +0000 (UTC)
From: Haven Tesla <haventesla (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: The Man and His Boy

The Man and His Boy
(A Haven Tesla story)

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This story is a work of fiction. You should be of legal age in your
respective jurisdiction to read any further. I have taken the unusual step
of not naming or describing the characters in this story. I would like to
leave these details to the reader's imagination. However, if you feel like
you help visualizing the boy as I picture him, drop me a note and I'd be
glad to oblige. Your feedback is incredibly valuable to me as an author;
you can reach me at haventesla (at) yahoo (dot) com. Lastly, please keep
this wonderful space going by donating to Nifty. Thank you and Happy
Easter!

This one is dedicated to all the fantastic authors on Nifty, past and
present, who have inspired me.

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The man looked over his boy appreciatively. The boy had assumed one of the
positions favored by the man, both for its unparalleled view of the boy's
body and for its undeniable evidence of his complete submission to the man.

His hands resting dutifully on top of his head, the boy displayed a pair of
shaved armpits which had made him the object of ridicule among his school
peers. Although the boy insisted to the disbelieving jocks that he had
taken the step for hygienic purposes, the truth was that the man demanded
he keep himself smooth. The boy had sobbed quietly the first few times he'd
had whisk off the hair under his arms, mourning the loss of yet another
symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, hairless pits were only one small part of the equation. He'd had
to shave every hair on his body below his eyebrows, except for his treasure
trail. The man insisted the boy carefully sculpt this, leading from his
belly button to where his pubes would be, if he had any left. This line of
fur (a landing strip, the man called it) looked utterly ludicrous and the
boy knew it. He could not shower alongside the other jocks without
subjecting himself to their taunts - taunts he could not avoid feeling he
deserved. After all, what self-respecting straight boy would subjugate
himself to the desires of a faggot?

Squatting over the man's thighs, the boy stoically kept impaling himself on
the man's enormous dick. On every downward plunge, he made sure he took all
12 inches of thick, hard man-meat into his tight, teenage boy-twat. Gone
were the days when the boy would have effusively protested and cried over
having to take the full length of the man's cock. It had seemed impossible
on that long-ago day when he'd lost his anal virginity to the man, but
somehow, along the way, he had grown accustomed to the incredible length
and girth of the mammoth appendage - just as the man had promised he
would. Now the only outward signs of the boy's agony were the slight wobble
of his lower lip and the tautness of his muscular body.

That didn't mean, of course, that getting fucked by such a gigantic cock
was painless. On the contrary, the boy still felt like he was being torn a
new asshole every single time he got fucked by the man. It didn't help that
the man was neither gentle nor restrained in fucking the boy. He took great
pleasure in meeting each of the boy's downward movements with a powerful
upward thrust of his pelvis, smashing his cock deep inside the boy's aching
twat.

Then again, the man had not shown restraint even on that first day. The boy
had stared at the man's one-eyed monster in terror when the man told him it
was going inside his tightly puckered, virginal asshole. The man had
briefly considered going easy on him: on using plenty of lube and opening
him up first with a couple of fingers. But his indecision had lasted only
an instant. You only got one chance to deflower a boy and, if you intended
to use the experience as a teaching moment, as the man did, you had make
sure you got it right. And that meant minimal lube (only enough to gain
entry, not make it a frictionless one), no stretching, and absolutely no
condoms.

Oh, the boy had blustered and bargained and begged. He wasn't a faggot -
that had been his first argument. When that, predictably, got him nowhere,
he tried to negotiate, offering to suck the man's cock instead of spreading
his legs for him. Unfortunately for him, the man had already experienced a
rather lackluster blowjob from the boy (what more could you expect from a
straight teen?) so that didn't convince the man to compromise either.

Finally, the boy had resorted to tearfully pleading for compassion. The man
had to at least use a condom. He couldn't fuck him bareback.

If the man had believed the boy's concern was borne out of anything other
than homophobia, he might have relented. But he knew all about the boy's
reputation in school, and it wasn't limited to his impressive
accomplishments on the wrestling team. No, the man also knew about the
vicious campaign of bullying that the boy had led against kids he perceived
as being homos. The boy had had no qualms about wishing his victims would
drop dead of AIDS. It was, to the boy's mind, an exclusively gay disease.

The man knew he was clean. He took his sexual health seriously and got
tested for STIs regularly, always receiving the same, negative result. In
fact, if anything, he had more to fear about catching something from the
boy who, prior to becoming the man's fucktoy, had slept around with more
than his fair share of girls. But it was a risk he was more than willing to
take. To complete his hold over the boy, he had to breed him. He had to
fuck him raw.

How the boy had howled when the bulbous head of the man's dick, the size of
a small nectarine, initially breached his virgin hole. He'd wanted to pause
there and take a moment to adjust to the intrusion. But the man was not
about to afford him such a luxury. He kicked the boy's legs out from under
him and watched with satisfaction as the boy fell, with an ear-piercing
shriek, down the rest of the man's dick.

Shock, anger and pain registered on the boy's red, tear-stained face. He
was practically choking on his sobs as he tried to get up off the man's
dick, but the man held him down by the shoulders, glad that he had taken
the precaution of tying the boy's hands behind his back. The man was
strong, but he didn't fancy his odds against a very pissed-off high school
wrestler.

Eventually the boy had given up his struggle, if one could call it that; he
did not have much maneuverability bound as he was. And then the real fun
began.

The man had had plenty of experience in ass play; the boy had none. The man
used this disparity to his advantage, aiming his cock to jab the boy's
prostate on every thrust. It took the boy a while to notice, so engrossed
was he in bewailing his anal violation. But soon he had an undeniable
hard-on, to which the man wasted no time in drawing attention. The man
would never forget how the boy's eyes widened in surprise, and his face
suffused with shame, at his inexplicable arousal. Before long, the boy was
leaking pre-cum and that was when the man knew, with absolute certainty,
that the boy was his for the taking.

So, he hammered the boy's ass hard, so hard that the boy would have trouble
walking normally for nearly a week afterward. The man wondered how the boy
had justified his bow-legged gait and the agonized expression on his face
every time he sat down. But as with the shaved pits and pubes, the boy
somehow managed to explain it away to observers. (Some did wonder why he
had suddenly become so injury-prone in the gym.) In the two years following
his capitulation to the man's control, the boy would get a lot of practice
in cooking up excuses that ranged from eminently plausible to insanely
unbelievable.

But on that very first day, the only person to whom the boy had to make
excuses was himself. And there he was fighting a losing battle. He couldn't
even begin to comprehend why he had an erection. How could he get a boner
when he was being brutally butt-fucked? The excruciating pain alone should
have put paid to that. Yet here he was, well on his way to a full-blown
stiffy.

He was loath to contemplate the reason that was staring him in the face.

Sensing the boy's inner turmoil, the man hid a smile. The boy was
exceptionally good-looking, but he became even more attractive when his
natural tendency towards arrogance was replaced by boyish
vulnerability. The man gave in to his most primal urges. Wielding his cock
like a battering ram, he pummeled the boy's insides with a vengeance, while
reaching out to pull the boy towards him by the scruff of his neck.

The boy was too busy blubbering to resist when the man forcefully kissed
him, shoving his tongue down the boy's throat. At first, the boy passively
accepted getting tongue-raped by the man but, after a while, he tentatively
probed the man's mouth with his own tongue. He was also rubbing his cock
against the man's belly in a transparent attempt to get off.

The man couldn't have that, so he grabbed the boy's cock and told him he
would only get to cum from being fucked. He had a lesson to impart, after
all.

The boy whimpered, clearly desperate to cum, but the man knew his way
around the male anatomy and he was determined to draw out the boy's
orgasm. He'd alternate a series of rapid-fire thrusts with slow, leisurely
strokes, bringing the boy close to climax and then pulling him back from
the precipice. This went on for almost an hour, and the boy's tears of pain
had turned into tears of frustration. The man himself had not been able to
hold back from shooting his load inside the boy; the boy's face was a
picture when he realized he'd been bred.

After what felt like an eternity to the boy, the man decided to let him
blow his wad. He battered the boy's prostate nonstop for a full minute and
was rewarded by the boy's swollen, purple dick erupting untouched.

It was the most satisfying orgasm of the boy's life, the circumstances in
which it was achieved notwithstanding. Seven strong jets of spunk arched
through the air and spattered both their bodies. When his climax finally
receded, the boy collapsed, spent, on top of the man.

But if the boy thought they were done for the night, he was sadly
mistaken. The man gave him all of five seconds to catch his breath, before
ordering him to lick up his mess and resume the fuck-fest. His poor,
ravaged ass was going to get a proper workout.

In all, the boy would be fucked to six orgasms that night, the last of them
dry.

Of course, that was only the beginning. The boy had come a long way since
that night.

His deflowering had taken place in his own bedroom while his parents were
out. They were rarely at home and, with his brother away at university, the
man was free to pop over and have his filthy way with the boy in every part
of the house. The man enjoyed whispering sweet nothings in the boy's ear
and watching him blush furiously while they christened the dining table,
the kitchen island, the living room couch, the television set in the den
and the shower stall in his brother's bathroom. Having the boy dress in his
mother's lingerie and splay himself on his parents' bed for an epic
pounding was a particular highlight for the man; he hadn't seen the appeal
of cross-dressing until then.


As far as the boy was concerned, getting his brains fucked out all over the
family home was bad enough, but the man was not content with having the boy
all to himself. Something that beautiful needed to be shared with the
world. After all, a joy shared is a joy doubled.

More than anything else, though, the man yearned to see the boy in his
rightful place as a true submissive, devoted to serving men: any and all
men so inclined.

With this goal foremost in mind, he had the boy transfer his membership to
another gym. Unlike the boy's old gym, where he'd hang out with his jock
buddies (before they decided the boy was a freak), this one was located in
a seedy part of town. The gym-goers were also less reticent in their choice
of workout clothes: tight string vests and short shorts abounded. It didn't
take a genius to figure out that the gym catered primarily to a gay
clientele, and the man expected the boy to stick to the `dress code'.

Needless to say, the boy proved to be something of a sensation in the
gym. All throughout his workout, he faced no shortage of helpers, who made
the most of the opportunity to ogle and feel him up. Emboldened by his lack
of resistance (the man had forbidden him from voicing any objections), they
advanced to actively molesting the boy. His muscled thighs and glutes were
especially popular - not that his rippling back and chiseled chest lacked
for attention. The boy felt deeply disturbed because he could guess where
this was heading. The man soon proved him right.

After that first session, the man decided that the boy no longer needed to
wear a top to the gym. He was the only person exercising shirtless, but the
gym management did not kick up a fuss after the man had a word with
them. They were simply glad of the noticeable spike in gym membership as
news of the boy circulated among the gay community. The boy's shorts became
progressively skimpier until they were little more than trunks which fit
him like a second skin, his exposure exacerbated by the man's command to
ditch his jockstrap and go commando.

All of this had the net effect of serving as an open invitation to the gay
gym-goers. But the boy's degradation did not stop in the gym. Oh, the man
had much more in store for him.

After completing his strenuous workout (the man kept him on a strict regime
to further hone his magnificent physique), the boy proceeded to the
bathhouse which was conveniently adjacent to the gym. It surprised
absolutely no one that many of the gym-goers trooped in after him. They
were keen to discover what the boy would be willing to do.

The answer to this question was, of course, dictated by the man. And he had
told the boy it was to be anything and everything. The only caveat was that
other men would have to wear a condom when fucking the boy; only the man
himself was entitled to fuck his boy bareback.

The boy had vigorously protested this arrangement. He expressed, in the
strongest terms, his disgust at having to whore himself out to total
strangers. Amused, the man had retorted that the boy was hardly a whore
when he wasn't getting paid to offer up his pussy on a platter; he was
merely a cum-slut who craved a cavalcade of cock.

The observation hadn't done any good for the boy's troubled psyche. His
pride had already taken a terrible battering (worse than the one his pussy
had) when the man had assumed control of him. Now more and more faggots had
been given the green light to abuse his body and rape his orifices. How was
any of this fair? Why couldn't the man be satisfied with the boy being at
his beck and call? He'd done everything the man had asked - even the
utterly revolting rimjob which had made him physically ill - but the man
just continued piling on his impossible demands.

This burst of insolence had been expected by the man, but he still had to
punish the boy for it. Bending him over his knee, he gave his ass a
heavy-handed spanking. The boy yelled and wriggled but he didn't break
position until the man had delivered 100 swats, by which time the boy's ass
was bright red and the man's hand ached. But what had humiliated the boy
more than his sore ass was the hard-on he was sporting by the end of the
spanking. The man just gazed at him contemptuously and unceremoniously
dropped him to the floor. The boy couldn't meet his eyes as, without
prompting, he licked up the precum he'd leaked onto the man's bare thigh.

There were no more protests after that. The delighted gym-goers found a
pliant boy who readily acquiesced to their demands. In no time at all, the
boy was flat on his back, sucking on one cock while another reamed out his
pussy. Once they learned that he also gave rimjobs, the boy became just as
likely to be deep-throating cock as eating out male ass. When his ass
wasn't occupied by a rampaging cock (and sometimes even when it was), eager
fingers squeezed their way into the steamy orifice, churning up the boy's
guts.

Meanwhile, hands freely wandered across his hunky body, twisting his pouty
nipples, stroking his erect cock, squeezing his low-hanging balls and
feeling up his washboard abs. One fucker was immediately replaced by
another as the bathhouse patrons marveled at what they perceived as the
boy's complete depravity. He was given no respite whatsoever; everyone,
college students and grandfathers alike, wanted a piece of the nubile
teenage boy-flesh at their disposal. He swallowed pints upon pints of cum,
including the contents of used condoms which he had to suck clean.

As the days went by and word got around, the boy was inundated by dozens of
men in a single night. To cater to such a high volume, double penetration
became a necessity which the boy reluctantly adopted. The man thought it a
glorious achievement when the boy took two dicks in his ass for the first
time. The boy, his body wracked with agony, could not have disagreed more.

By the end of the night, he was a fucked-out wreck ... until the next
night, when the process would repeat itself.

If the boy felt any discomfort or shame, he didn't outwardly display it,
aside from the occasional gagging or squealing when a cock went too deep
down his throat or two exceptionally large dicks porked him
simultaneously. (Those reactions were out of the boy's control - although,
truthfully, his entire life was out of his control.)

But the man was certain that the boy intensely experienced both emotions;
he had simply become adept at hiding them out of some ill-conceived notion
that the man would lose interest in him if he no longer reacted to the
abuse.

Unfortunately for the boy, the man had latched on to his thought process
(teenage boys were nothing if not predictable) and responded by dreaming up
new and innovative torments, simply to get a reaction out of the
boy. Ironically, the boy's self-enforced stoicism was actually worsening
his own ordeal.

The boy now had a huge supply of toys (or torture instruments, depending on
whose perspective).  On the days when he wasn't required to attend gym, he
would instead put on a webcam show where he stuffed one or more of these
toys inside his hole. These shows had the advantage of reaching an even
wider audience, although the man did grant him the concession of a small
mask to conceal his identity.

Hundreds of anonymous chatroom users were treated to the sight of the boy's
hole swallowing up phallic fresh produce, 15-inch dildos and anal beads the
size of tennis balls. His muscles would pop and sweat would stream down his
body as he strained to fit these freakishly huge objects up his still
miraculously tight hole. The man had to respect the boy's hardiness; his
eyes would roll back in his head, but he soldiered on until every last inch
of the toy was fully buried inside his obscenely stretched-out cunt.

His reward for his suffering? The chatroom `fans' clamored for ever larger
objects to be thrust inside him. The man took note of some of these
suggestions and made dreams come true by buying them for the boy's next cam
show. He had to (reluctantly) draw the line at the proposals for
double-fisting; as much as he would have relished seeing the boy's pussy
gaping open so grotesquely, he couldn't afford to completely demolish the
boy's prime real estate. He did, however, deign to fist-fuck the boy as a
birthday `present', although the boy, who passed out from the pain, didn't
appreciate the gift in the slightest. Nor did he enjoy its reprises at
least once a week!

It wasn't only the boy's hole which saw plenty of action. He had been
blessed (or cursed) with rather prominent, pink nipples. The man adored
chewing on these beauties and screwing nipple clamps onto the sensitive
nubs so tightly that the boy was sure they were being pulverized. The man
had observed that stimulating the boy's tits resulted in a blood rush to
his groin, and thus resolved to make the condition all but permanent.

As the boy's pecs grew from all the time he was spending in the gym, his
wrestling singlets rubbed against his tender aureoles, making him throw a
boner during matches. The boy had been wrestling since elementary school
without experiencing an erection from contact with other boys, but now it
seemed he could not go one bout without getting a hard-on. An erection in
such close quarters could not pass unnoticed, and the boy wanted to sink
into the wrestling mat as he felt the derision of his opponents burn into
his skin. It was a widely-held opinion among wrestlers that only faggots
could be aroused while grappling with other males. (Otherwise they could
never credibly argue away the inherent homoeroticism of the sport.)

His overwhelming embarrassment, coupled with the consequences of abnormal
levels of sexual activity (a perpetually aching ass and intense physical
exhaustion), meant that the boy's wrestling performance suffered severely.

This, above all else, was the greatest source of despair to the boy. It was
one thing to have his life outside of school taken over by the man's
debauched diktats. His social life had fallen apart and dating girls was a
thing of the past.

But wrestling was the boy's pride and passion. It was supposed to help him
secure a scholarship to college, the gateway to a brighter future. And in
his current predicament, it also had the potential to get him away from the
man's malign influence and the bathhouse full of perverts who were
ever-ready to exploit his teenage body.

Instead, that escape route appeared to be slipping through his fingers. He
thought it was rotten luck that his sexual subservience was spilling over
into his wrestling career. He'd tried what little he could to save his
scholarship chances. One time, he'd begged the man let up on him the night
before a key contest. He really should have known better. Instead, the plea
triggered a furious response from the man, who coated the tennis ball-sized
anal beads with Ben-Gay before making the boy stuff them up his pussy and
keep them there while he paddled his ass for half an hour straight.

The boy's ass hurt so unbearably both inside and out that the outcome of
the next morning's contest was a foregone conclusion. It was all the boy
could do not to scream when his opponent's hands came into contact with his
tortured ass. He threw the match within the first minute. His coach and
teammates weren't just disappointed in him; they were disgusted.

The next time, he didn't say a word to the man but quietly jerked off
several times during the night, hoping that empty balls would keep him from
growing a boner during the match. While he did succeed to a degree, there
was hell to pay later when the man discovered that the boy wasn't getting
hard as he usually did while being fucked. He instantly cottoned on to the
reason for the boy's lack of arousal. Ignoring the boy's desperate
apologies, he greased up his fist and thrust it all the way into the boy in
a matter of seconds. The boy was still reeling from this savage fisting
when the man's grasping fingers located his prostate gland and began a
constant massage that would last well over an hour, eventually spurring the
weeping boy to five agonizingly dry orgasms.

After that, the boy never jerked off without the man's permission. But just
in case, the man made sure to reinforce the lesson at least once a month.

In a way, the boy was rather naive. The deterioration in his athletic
performance was not a simple case of misfortune. The man knew exactly what
he was doing when he designed the boy's jam-packed roster of sexual
duties. He was aware that the boy was aiming for a college scholarship on
account of his wrestling prowess and he had no intention of allowing the
boy to win it. Nor did he intend to honor his promise to keep the boy's
sexual depravity a secret from his family and school.

No, the man had a long-term plan for the boy and it didn't involve him
concealing his true nature for much longer. The boy had barely another
month of high school left to go. Another month of hiding in the
shadows. And then two long years of careful orchestration and cunning
manipulation would finally bear fruit. The man had never invested so much
time in a boy as he had in this one. Two whole years, watching the boy
mature from a sophomore to a senior ... evolve from a cocky, petulant jerk
to a meek, obliging slave ... graduate from giving half-hearted blowjobs to
taking the man's entire fist up his rectum.

Yes, it had been a huge gamble, but the man was certain that it was going
to pay off. It was almost too bad that it would involve the complete
destruction of the boy's life as he knew it. The grand reveal was going to
be rough on the boy.

In spite of himself, the man felt a little sorry for the boy. He was
annoyed at himself for that, but he couldn't help admiring the boy's
mettle. Even after everything he'd thrown at him, the boy had endeavored to
maintain the normalcy of his straight jock existence.

But admiration only went so far. The man was nothing if not single-minded
and since he had resolved to make the boy his, he wouldn't let anything
come in the way of attaining his goal - certainly not some misplaced
fondness for the boy's spirit. He had to crush it before he was able to
up-end the boy's painstakingly crafted veneer of masculine dominance and
unabashed heterosexuality.

For that was what it was: a veneer. Of that, the man was confident. Deep
down, the boy was a submissive. How else could he have fallen so far, so
quickly? A boy who genuinely identified as a dominant, straight male would
not be fucking himself on the man's dick, as the boy was doing at that very
moment. He would not present himself at a gay bathhouse four times a week
to let strangers double-penetrate him. He would not cram his pussy full of
obscenely oversized dildos for webcam audiences. He would not tolerate all
of the sexual abuse the man had heaped on him with barely more than a token
resistance.

For now, the man permitted the boy his cocoon of false security. It would
make his eventual fall from grace in a month's time all the more
devastating. On graduation day, the man would obliterate the boy's world in
front of his entire school. And he would be there to pick up the pieces.

Oh, the boy would hate him at first - it was always a tough sell telling
someone you've destroyed his life for his own good - but eventually he
would come around. He'd have to. By the time the man was through taking a
wrecking-ball to the boy's life, he would have no one else to turn to. The
only familiar thing left to him would be the man's dominance over every
aspect of his existence.

And the man would be waiting. He'd been patient for two years, after all;
what was another month?

The ultimate prize of owning the boy, body and soul, was more than worth
its while.

THE END
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