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The day started like any other, with the sun peeking over the horizon and casting long shadows across the quiet street. Birds chirped in the trees, their melodies the only sound to pierce the early morning calm. Sam Harrison, a mischievous eight-year-old with a penchant for trouble, yawned widely as he climbed out of bed. His blonde hair stood on end, a testament to the wild dreams that had filled his sleep. Little did he know, the day ahead would not be so peaceful.
As Sam trudged to school, his thoughts drifted to Timmy, the kid in his class who had been the butt of his jokes one too many times. A smug smile played on his lips as he recalled the way Timmy's face would crumple when he was teased. It was a simple pleasure, one that had grown stale, and he craved something more substantial. He didn't see the point in holding back, not when the rewards of his cruelty were so sweet.
But when he arrived home that afternoon, the atmosphere was thick with tension. His father, Keith, was waiting for him, his face a mask of barely restrained anger. He knew immediately that something was wrong. "Sam, come here," Keith's voice was low and dangerous, "I've had a chat with Mr. Jenkins, Timmy's dad." Sam's stomach plummeted as he realized the consequences of his actions had reached home.
Keith's hand was firm on his shoulder, guiding him to the living room where three burly figures loomed in the shadows. Sam recognized Tom, Mike, and Larry from his the garage, their rough hands and greasy clothes telling tales of hard labor. His heart raced as he realized they weren't here for a friendly visit. "These are Greg's friends," Keith said, his voice tight, "and they're going to show you what happens to little bullies." Greg's stern face emerged from the shadows, his eyes narrowed in a silent promise of retribution.
The room felt like it was closing in on Sam as Keith explained the punishment. "You're going to get a taste of your own medicine," Keith said, "and maybe then, you'll think twice before you pick on someone smaller than you." The garage crew nodded in unison, their expressions grim. They had all suffered under the yolk of bullies in their past and had no tolerance for it. The air was thick with the scent of leather and sweat, a stark contrast to the sterile schoolyard where Sam had wielded his power.
Sam's eyes darted around, searching for an escape, but the men had blocked all exits. His father's grip tightened, a silent message that there was no way out of this. "Take your clothes off," Keith ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument. Sam's cheeks flushed with a mix of fear and humiliation as he began to strip, his small hands trembling as he folded his school uniform neatly on the chair.
"Look at you," Larry jeered, his deep voice echoing around the room, "think you're some kind of tough guy, don't you, fatso?" Sam felt his face burn with the cruel taunt, his body suddenly feeling too large and exposed. The men chuckled darkly, their eyes raking over his chubby form as he stood there in his underwear.
"You're just a bully," Tom added, his voice gruff and unyielding. "And we all know what bullies need." Mike smirked, leaning in closer, "A good, hard lesson they'll never forget." The words hung in the air like a toxic fog, filling Sam with dread.
With Keith's nod, the men sprang into action. They were swift and methodical, their movements honed by years of working together in the garage. Before Sam could fully comprehend what was happening, his wrists and ankles were bound with thick, scratchy rope, leaving him spread-eagled and vulnerable on the cold, hard floor. His heart hammered in his chest, the sound echoing in his ears like the tick of a time bomb.
"Looks like someone's been skipping PE," Mike quipped, gesturing to Sam's protruding belly. The room erupted in laughter, each guffaw stinging like a slap. The men's faces blurred before Sam's teary eyes, their mirth a cruel reminder of his own powerlessness. He felt a hot surge of anger, but it was quickly doused by the icy reality of his situation.
Tom stepped forward, a malicious glint in his eye. "Let's start with a little warm-up, shall we?" He knelt beside Sam and slapped his thighs, the sound echoing in the tense silence. "You like to make others feel small, so let's see how you handle it." The men's jeers grew louder as Tom's hand connected with Sam's plump flesh, each blow sending shockwaves of pain through his body.
"Yeah, hit those chubby cheeks, make him squeal," Larry chimed in, his voice a sinister purr. He reached out and pinched Sam's side, eliciting a yelp that turned into a sob. The men's laughter grew into a crescendo, each one of them finding new ways to poke and prod at the bound boy's softness. They pointed at his "boy tits," jiggling with each smack, and hurled a barrage of names that stung worse than the blows.
"Crybaby," Greg sneered, the edge of his mouth twitching in a sadistic smile. "I bet those little tits are tender, aren't they?" He leaned down and flicked one of the nipples, watching with twisted pleasure as Sam's body recoiled in pain. "Look at him, trying to hide those man boobs," Tom cackled, joining in the cruel banter.
Mike took over the spanking, his palm leaving red handprints that blossomed like flowers of fire on Sam's pale flesh. Each smack was accompanied by a derisive laugh, the sound of his mirth mixing with the sickening sound of flesh meeting flesh. "You're just a soft, little porker," Mike chuckled, his eyes gleaming with malice. "Let's see if we can't toughen you up."
The sting grew unbearable, but Sam bit his lip, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream. His thoughts raced, trying to understand how this nightmare had become his reality. Why were his father's friends treating him this way? The word "betrayal" whispered through his mind, but he couldn't voice it, couldn't even acknowledge it. He was trapped in a world of pain and humiliation, and all he could do was endure.
"Look at him, trying to be brave," Larry sneered, his meaty hands grabbing Sam's chin and forcing him to look up. "You're nothing but a fat little piggy, aren't you?" The men's laughter was like thunder, shaking Sam's soul. He felt his eyes fill with tears, but he blinked them back, refusing to let them fall.
"Keith," Greg began, his voice a low rumble, "why don't you tell Sammy here what you went through at school?" Keith's face grew dark, the anger in his eyes shifting to something deeper, a pain that Sam had never seen before. He took a deep breath, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"You see, son," Keith started, his voice tight with emotion, "I was bullied too. Called names, hit, made to feel small. And you know what? It's because of that, I won't stand for it. You need to learn that actions have consequences." With those words, Keith's hand came down hard on Sam's thigh, the sound of the slap echoing in the room. The men chuckled, the mood shifting from one of simple amusement to something more sinister.
"But Dad," Sam's voice was small, trembling, "I didn't mean to-" His words were cut off as Larry's hand squeezed his nipple, twisting it until Sam could hardly breathe through the pain. "Shut up, you fat little squealer," Larry spat. "You think you can get out of this with a sorry?"
Keith's expression remained stoic as he watched his son's torment. "This isn't about you being sorry, Sam," he said, his voice cold and detached. "It's about you understanding that you can't treat others like that. Now, let's get this over with." He nodded at the men, and they went back to their taunts, their cruel fingers pinching and pulling at Sam's soft flesh.
"Fat-ass," Larry chuckled, his hand sliding down to Sam's stomach and giving it a hard poke. The sensation was like a hot knife, sending a spike of pain through Sam's abdomen. "You're going to be a real handful, aren't you?" The men roared with laughter, each one taking turns to prod and pinch the child's most sensitive spots, their calloused fingers leaving red trails of agony.
Tom leaned in, his breath hot and sour as he whispered in Sam's ear. "You've got a nice pair of tits for a boy." He squeezed the plump flesh around Sam's nipples, twisting them until they stood erect and painfully sensitive. "Maybe we should give them a little more attention," he mused, a wicked glint in his eye.
The room grew quiet as the men's focus shifted to the young boy's chest. They began to chant, their voices low and guttural, "Fat boy, fat boy, got some tits to play with." The taunts grew louder, feeding off each other's sadistic amusement. Sam felt his face burn with a mix of anger and embarrassment as he struggled against his bonds.
Mike stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Sam's face as he leaned down. The boy's heart raced as the man's coarse, greasy hand closed around one of his sensitive nipples, giving it a rough twist. The pain was sharp, making him gasp. Larry followed suit, grabbing the other, his rough laughter bouncing off the walls as he pinched and pulled, eliciting a symphony of pained noises from the bound child.
"Look at him," Mike said, his voice a gruff growl, "just loves the attention, doesn't he?" He bent down, his stubble scraping against Sam's cheek as he took the abused nipple into his mouth. The sensation was foreign, the coarseness of his tongue against the sensitive flesh making Sam's body convulse. Larry did the same, his teeth grazing the tender skin, making him yelp. The men's laughter grew louder, echoing through the room like a pack of hyenas closing in on their prey.
Keith watched, his jaw clenched. He knew this was what his son needed, a harsh lesson that would stick. "Remember, boy," he said, his voice thick with disgust, "this is what happens to bullies. You're going to learn respect the hard way."
Tom couldn't resist joining in, his thick fingers digging into Sam's thighs, leaving bruises that would surely be discovered tomorrow. "You're just a tub of lard," he jeered, his breath hot and stale on Sam's neck. "What's it like being the fattest kid in school?"
Sam's cheeks burned with a mix of rage and humiliation. He had never felt so exposed, so utterly at the mercy of others. The men's taunts grew more personal, each one cutting deeper than the last. "Looks like someone's been stealing cookies from the jar," Larry chuckled, his eyes never leaving Sam's trembling body.
Greg ripped his underwear off, exposing Sam's plump belly and his tiny, shriveling cock. The room's temperature seemed to drop as the men's eyes feasted on his nakedness. "Look at him," Greg sneered, "the big bad bully now stripped down to nothing." Sam felt the warmth of their breath on his skin, a stark contrast to the coldness in their eyes.
The name-calling grew more vicious, each word a new thorn in Sam's side. "Fatty," "Lard ass," "Titty boy," they chanted, their voices a cacophony of malicious glee. Mike and Larry took turns sucking on Sam's nipples, their teeth scraping the sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves of pain and confusion through his body. He felt the wetness of their mouths, the coarseness of their tongues, and the coldness of their breath against his skin. The pain grew, a symphony of torment that seemed to crescendo with each cruel suckle.
Keith's face was a mask of disgust as he watched the scene unfold. "You see, Sam," he said, his voice devoid of warmth, "this is what happens to bullies. You're going to learn a lesson you won't forget." Sam's eyes darted to his father, searching for any sign of reprieve, but all he found was a cold, unyielding stare. He realized, in that moment, that Keith had no intention of stopping this. He and Greg was the ringmasters in this twisted circus, orchestrating his his downfall.
Greg started to slap his thighs as if warming up for a new round of punishment. "Let's see how much you like being called names," he said, his eyes gleaming with a sadistic light. "How about 'Sammy the Sausage Stuffer'?" The men roared with laughter, each one of them adding their own twist to the barrage of insults. "Or maybe 'Titty McTubby'?" Greg suggested, his voice a sneer. Sam felt each word like a blow, his eyes stinging with unshed tears.
Mike and Larry took over the taunts, their calloused hands never stopping their rough play with Sam's tender nipples. "Look at these babies," Mike chuckled, giving one a particularly hard pinch. "Bet you didn't know you had these, did you?" Larry leaned in, his hot breath ghosting over Sam's skin, "They're perfect little cherries, just begging to be picked."
The room was a cacophony of male laughter, each snicker and guffaw a dagger in Sam's heart. He felt the wetness of their mouths as they took turns sucking on his chest, the sensation of their teeth scraping against his skin making him want to scream. "Fatso," Larry murmured against his flesh, his tongue flicking the sensitive bud, "you're going to squeal like the pig you are."
"Titty boy," Tom added, his stubble scratching Sam's skin as he leaned in, his teeth grazing the other nipple. "Looks like someone's been hitting the chocolate milk a little too hard." The men's chuckles grew louder, their breath hot and rancid as they feasted on the fear and discomfort radiating from the young boy.
The pain grew more intense with each bite and tug, each cruel remark etching itself into Sam's soul. He felt a tear slip down his cheek, his eyes stinging from the humiliation. "Please," he whispered, his voice barely audible over their taunts.
"What's the matter, Fat Sam?" Larry mocked, his mouth still around the boy's nipple, "Can't take it?" He released it with a pop, leaving it red and swollen, and slapped it again, hard enough to make Sam's eyes water. "You want us to stop?"
Sam's breath hitched in his throat, the pain so intense he could hardly think. "P-please," he managed to stutter out, his voice thick with unshed tears.
"Please what?" Mike drawled, his tongue flicking over the abused nipple. "Please stop calling you fat?" Larry snickered, giving the other nipple a hard tweak. "Or maybe you're begging us to stop playing with your little titties?"
The room fell silent, the only sounds the heavy breathing of the men and the quiet sobs of the bound child. Sam's eyes searched his father's, looking for some spark of compassion, but found only cold resolve. Keith's voice was like a whip crack when he spoke. "You're not getting out of this that easy."
Mike and Larry took Keith's cue, their faces twisted in mock concern. "Aw, does the little porker need a break?" Larry smacked Sam's thigh, his laughter a harsh bark. "You're going to have to toughen up if you want to play with the big boys, aren't you?"
Tom stepped closer, his eyes glinting with malicious glee. "You're just a sack of lard," he sneered, poking Sam's belly. It jiggled under his touch, and the men roared with laughter. The sound was like nails on a chalkboard, each chuckle a new form of torture. "Maybe if you weren't so chunky, you could run fast enough to avoid us," he added, giving the bound boy a hard pat.
Sam felt the tears slide down his cheeks, the weight of their cruel words crushing his spirit. He had never felt so small, so utterly powerless. The room seemed to spin around him, the laughter growing louder, more taunting with each passing second. "Please," he whimpered again, his voice barely a whisper.
"Look at him," Greg said, his voice a dark chuckle, "thought you were the big man, didn't you?" He leaned down, his eyes boring into Sam's. "You're just a sniveling, fat little kid who thinks he can push people around. But now, you're going to get what you deserve."
The men's hands grew rougher, their grip on Sam's flesh tighter. The room was a blur of jeers and pain, his thoughts a jumble of fear and disbelief. "You're going to take it like a champ," Keith said, his voice devoid of the warmth it had once held. "You're going to take it all."
Tom and Larry stepped back, their eyes gleaming with anticipation, leaving Keith to claim his turn. The man's pants were unbuckled, his cock thick and menacing. "You're going to learn respect," he murmured, his voice a harsh whisper in Sam's ear. "You're going to learn what it feels like to be used."
Without a moment's hesitation, Keith knelt beside his son, his cock in hand. The other men watched, their breaths bated, as Keith positioned himself. "Ready to take it like a man?" he sneered, not giving Sam a chance to answer. With one swift thrust, Keith buried himself in the eight-year-old's tight, virgin hole.
All 10 inches of fat veiny cock tore into Sam, the pain unlike anything he had ever felt. He let out a high-pitched scream that seemed to shake the very foundations of the house, his body convulsing from the sheer agony of the violation. The men laughed, their faces twisted in a macabre dance of pleasure at the boy's suffering.
"Squeal, you little pig," Larry goaded, as Keith's thick member plunged in and out of Sam's tiny body. The boy's eyes were wide with shock, his mouth a silent 'O' of pain. His father's face was a twisted mask of pleasure, his teeth gritted as he hammered into his son's ass, each thrust sending waves of agony through Sam's body.
The room was a whirlwind of taunts and laughter, the air thick with the scent of sweat and fear. "You like that, don't you?" Greg leered, his own erection straining against his pants. "Taking it up the ass like a good little slut." The words cut deeper than any knife, slicing through Sam's soul and leaving a trail of burning humiliation in their wake.
Keith's thrusts grew harder, more punishing with each passing second. His eyes were glazed over with a mix of anger and perverse pleasure as he watched his son's face contort in pain. The men's names for him grew more and more vile, each one a new brand seared into his psyche. "Porky," "Bacon Bitch," "Ham Hole," they called him, their voices a cacophony of malice.
Tom couldn't wait his turn, stroking his cock as he watched the brutal scene unfold. "Look at him take it," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Just like a little slut." Mike and Larry nodded, their own erections straining against their pants, eager to claim their piece of the helpless child.
Keith's rhythm grew more erratic, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he approached his climax. "You're going to take it all," he grunted, his eyes locked on Sam's, "every last drop." His hand flew to Sam's mouth, muffling his cries of agony. The boy's eyes were squeezed shut, his body trembling with each invasive thrust. The men's taunts grew more vicious, their names for him a never-ending barrage of degradation.
"You're going to be our little cumdump," Mike sneered, his own pants now around his ankles, his cock bobbing with excitement. "Oink, oink," Larry added, slapping Sam's ass with a wet, meaty sound. The boy's cheeks were streaked with tears, his eyes red and swollen from crying. The men's eyes were alight with lust and malice, their faces twisted into expressions of perverse pleasure.
Keith's thrusts grew more erratic, his grunts of pleasure growing louder with each passing second. "You're going to be our little fucktoy," he hissed, his hand tight around Sam's mouth. "You're going to take everything we give you, aren't you?" The boy's eyes fluttered open, a mix of fear and betrayal in them.
The other men had all stripped now, their erections bobbing in the dim light of the room. They watched with rapt attention as Keith claimed his son, their own desires growing with every grunt and whine. "It was time for your daddy to show you how it's done," Keith murmured, his hand moving to stroke Sam's cheek. The boy's body jerked away from the touch, his eyes wide with terror.
Greg stepped forward, his massive cock swinging before him, a look of eager anticipation on his face. "My turn," he growled, licking his lips as he stepped closer to the trembling form of the boy.
Keith withdrew, his cock slick with Sam's blood and tears, and stepped aside to let Greg take his place. "You're going to learn respect," he said again, his voice a harsh whisper, as he watched his son's tiny, ravaged body tremble with fear.
Greg's eyes gleamed with sadistic excitement as he stepped forward, his cock thick and demanding. "It's time for the main event," he announced, his hands reaching for Sam's waist. The boy's eyes widened with terror as the massive man positioned himself. "You're going to squeal like the little piggy you are," Greg taunted, his breath hot on Sam's neck.
The room grew silent except for Sam's muffled sobs and the sickening squelch of Keith's cum leaking out of his abused hole. The other men circled around, stroking their erections in anticipation. Larry grabbed Sam's chin, forcing him to look at Greg's cock as it loomed over him. "Look what you're getting," he jeered, "a real man's cock to fill you up."
Greg's meaty hand grabbed Sam's hair, yanking his head back. "You've had your fun," Greg sneered, his eyes glinting with malice. "Now, it's time for you to pay the price." He positioned himself, the tip of his cock pressing against the torn, bleeding ring of muscle. Sam's eyes rolled back in his head, his body trembling with the effort of holding in his screams.
"Fuck, he's tight," Greg grunted, pushing in with a brutal force that made Sam's eyes water. The men watched, their eyes glued to the sickening sight of the child's body being defiled. "Squeal for me, piglet," Greg goaded, his hands squeezing Sam's plump thighs. The boy's body tensed, his face a mask of agony as Greg began to pump in and out of him.
"Look at him," Larry chuckled, stroking his cock, "taking it like a champ." Tom and Mike nodded in agreement, their lust-filled gazes never leaving the boy's stretched, tear-stained face. "It's like he was made for this," Mike said, his voice a low rumble. The men's eyes gleamed with excitement, their anticipation growing with every whimper that escaped Sam's tightly clenched jaw.
Greg's cock felt like a red-hot poker as it invaded Sam's innocence, the pain so intense it stole the breath from his lungs. The men's vile names for him echoed in his mind, each one a new blow to his shattered dignity. "Lard Ass," "Porker," "Bacon Bitch," the words reverberating in his head like a taunting chant.
Keith stepped back, his own erection still standing proud, the head slick with his son's blood and the residue of his own release. "You're going to take it all," he whispered, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "You're going to be our little fucktoy, aren't you?" The question hung in the air, unanswered, as Greg's thrusts grew more forceful, his hands bruising the soft flesh of Sam's thighs.
The men took turns with his asshole and then they forced the boy to give them blowjobs, the taste of their own cum on their cocks as they forced themselves down his throat, gagging him with their thick, veiny shafts. The livingroom was filled with the sound of slaps and grunts as they used him like a toy, passing him around without a care for his pain or pleas for mercy.
Mike was next, his cock a little thinner but no less vicious as he slammed into Sam's abused hole. The boy's eyes rolled back into his head as Mike pumped away, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he fought not to vomit from the overwhelming stench of sweat and bodily fluids. "Suck me clean, you little slut," Larry barked, pulling his cock from Sam's mouth and shoving it into the boy's face. Sam's eyes watered and nose wrinkled, but he complied, his tongue sliding over the salty, bitter taste of the man's cock, his cheeks hollowing out as he tried to breathe through his nose.
Tom watched with a sadistic grin, stroking his own cock as he listened to the wet, squelching sounds of Mike's thrusts. "Looks like someone's enjoying their first taste of cock," he sneered, stepping closer to get a better look. "You're going to be the best little cocksucker, aren't you?" His hand reached out to slap Sam's cheek, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.
Mike fucked him from behind, his thick cock pounding into the boy's tender flesh. The others took turns calling him names, each one crueler than the last. "Piglet," "Sausage Stuffer," "Fatso," the names fell like a hailstorm, each one a new bruise to Sam's shattered spirit.
Larry took over, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he stepped forward. "My turn to play with the piggy," he said, his voice a low, guttural growl. His cock was thick and veiny, standing tall against his furred stomach. He positioned himself, his hands on Sam's hips, and slammed into the boy without a moment's hesitation.
Sam's body arched off the floor, his mouth open in a silent scream. The pain was unbearable, each thrust a new form of torment that seemed to go on forever. The men watched, their own cocks in their hands, stroking in time with Larry's brutal rhythm. "Look at him go," Tom murmured, his eyes never leaving the scene. "He's loving it."
Keith stepped forward, his own cock now limp but his eyes still gleaming with malice. "You're going to learn to obey," he whispered, his hand coming down hard on Sam's ass in a stinging slap. The boy's body jerked, his eyes squeezing shut even tighter. "You're going to learn what it feels like to be at the bottom of the food chain."
The room was a symphony of grunts and slaps, the air thick with the scent of sweat and pain. The men took turns with Sam, their bodies moving in a twisted ballet of violation. Each thrust brought a new round of taunts, each slap a reminder of his new place in their twisted world. "Fat fuck," "Piggy," "Bitch," the names were a constant stream, each one a new blow to Sam's already bruised ego.
Tom’s turn came, and with a sadistic smile, he approached the trembling form of the young boy. "Looks like it's time for you to get to know Uncle Tom's sausage," he chuckled, his erection jutting out in front of him like a weapon. He leaned in, his breath hot against Sam's cheek. "You're going to love it, sweetheart."
The men watched eagerly as Tom positioned himself, the head of his cock nudging at Sam's already torn opening. "Here we go," Mike whispered, his own hand pumping his erection with renewed vigor. Larry and Greg flanked the boy, holding him down as Tom pushed in. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, a sickening counterpoint to the men's lewd chuckles.
Sam's body jerked with every thrust, his cries muffled by Larry's hand over his mouth. The pain was a living, breathing entity, consuming him whole. The men's faces were twisted in pleasure, their eyes gleaming with a hunger that made him feel like nothing more than a piece of meat to be used and discarded. "Fat boy," Tom grunted with every plunge, his hand coming down hard on Sam's ass. The sting of each slap added to the agony, the pain radiating through his body like wildfire.
Mike and Greg were now kneeling beside him, their cocks in their hands, stroking in time with Tom's violent fucking. The sight of them, their faces a mix of lust and anger, made bile rise in Sam's throat. He could feel their cum building, their hands moving faster and faster. The anticipation of their release was almost as terrifying as the pain itself.
With a roar, Tom pulled out, his cock glistening with a mix of blood and lube. He aimed it at Sam's face, his hot seed spurting in thick ropes that painted the boy's cheeks and splattered his chin. Sam's eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open in a silent scream as the cum rained down on him. Larry and Mike took their cue, their own cocks exploding in a shower of white-hot agony that coated Sam's chest and stomach.
The men's laughter grew louder as they watched the boy's humiliation, their eyes glinting with a sick excitement. "Open up, Porky," Larry sneered, his cock still pulsing. He forced Sam's mouth open with two thick fingers, his cock sliding in to dump his load directly down the boy's throat. Sam choked and gagged, the taste of salt and bitterness coating his tongue, his eyes watering from the sheer force of Larry's cum.
Mike and Greg weren't far behind, their own cocks spurting jets of hot cum across Sam's face and chest. The sticky mess coated his cheeks and clung to his eyelashes, a salty, pungent reminder of their dominance. Greg leaned in, his breath hot and sour, and whispered, "Swallow it, you little slut. Take every drop."
With trembling hands, Sam tried to wipe the cum from his face, but Larry's firm grip on his chin kept him in place. "You heard him," Larry said, a cruel smile playing on his lips. "Swallow it all down. That's what good little piggies do." Sam's eyes filled with fresh tears as he choked down the thick, bitter fluid, each swallow a new form of degradation.
Mike stepped back, his own cock finally softening as he surveyed the boy's cum-covered body with satisfaction. "Looks like our little bacon burger is all filled up," he said, his voice thick with lust. The men laughed, their eyes glinting with the dark pleasure of their power over the trembling child.
”He still need daddy’s sausage sauce!” Keith exclaimed, his own cock hardening at the sight of his son's degradation. He stepped forward, stroking himself until he was at full mast. He grabbed Sam's chin, forcing him to look up at the group of men towering over him. "Open up," he demanded, his voice a harsh snarl. "Take it like the good boy you are."
Sam's eyes filled with tears as Keith's cock slammed into his mouth, his own taste mixing with the salty tang of the men's cum already coating his tongue. He choked and gagged, his eyes watering as Keith fucked his mouth with brutal enthusiasm. The men watched, their own cocks growing hard again at the sight of the boy being used so callously by his own father.
Keith's grunts grew louder, his grip on Sam's head tightening as he approached climax. The boy's eyes bulged, his cheeks hollowed out from the effort of deepthroating the massive cock. "Look at me," Keith snarled, pulling almost all the way out before ramming back in. Sam's eyes met his father's, the hatred and anger in them palpable.
With a final, brutal thrust, Keith emptied his load into Sam's mouth. The boy's throat convulsed, struggling to swallow the thick, hot cum. "Look what a good boy you are," Keith said, his voice a mix of pride and disgust. He stepped back, watching as Sam gagged, his cum dribbling down the boy's chin to mingle with the pools on his chest.
The room was silent, the only sound the harsh panting of the men and the quiet, pitiful whimpers of the used and abused child. Larry leaned in, his cock still half-erect, and whispered into Sam's ear. "You liked that, didn't you?" His breath was hot and moist, a stark contrast to the coldness in his voice.
Keith stepped forward, his cock still glistening with the mixture of his son's tears and blood. He looked down at Sam, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You know what you have to do to make this stop," he said, his voice a low growl. "You need to apologize to Timmy. Tell him you're sorry for what you did, and maybe, just maybe, we'll leave you alone."
Greg nodded in agreement, his own erection subsiding but the malice in his gaze unwavering. "We're going to give you two choices," he said, his tone a mockery of kindness. "You can either tell Timmy you're sorry and learn your lesson, or..." He let the threat hang in the air, his eyes sweeping over the boy's trembling form.
Sam looked up at them through a haze of pain and humiliation, his eyes searching their faces for a glimmer of humanity. But all he saw was hunger, a hunger that was far from sated. "Choose," Keith growled, his hand still clenched around his son's chin. "Or we'll just have to keep teaching you, won't we?"
The words hit Sam like a sledgehammer, the implication clear. If he didn't apologize to Timmy, this torment would continue. The thought of enduring another session with these monsters was unbearable, but the thought of facing Timmy was almost as terrifying. His mind raced, searching for a third option, a way out that didn't involve groveling or more pain.
"I'll do it," he whispered, his voice hoarse from screaming and crying. "I'll say sorry to Timmy." The grip on his chin loosened, and the hand that had held him down was removed. He could feel the sticky mess of cum and sweat cooling on his skin, a constant reminder of his new status as their plaything.
”And never bully anyone at all!” Greg said.
The words hung in the air like a dark promise, a chilling reminder of the fate that awaited Sam if he didn't comply. The boy nodded frantically, his eyes flickering with a mix of fear and desperation. "I promise," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the harsh sound of his own sobs.
Keith kneeled in front of Sam and now Sam could see the love returning to his eyes.
"Good boy," Keith murmured, stroking Sam's cheek with a gentle touch that sent a shiver down his spine. "Now, go and tell Timmy how sorry you are. Make it convincing, or we'll know."
The room seemed to shrink around Sam as the men stepped back, allowing him to stand up, his legs wobbling and his body sore from their abuse. He stumbled towards the door, the sticky mess of cum clinging to his skin, his dignity in tatters. The door swung open, and he stumbled out into the hallway, the harsh light of the afternoon sun blinding him.
He could still feel the ghosts of their hands on him, the echoes of their cruel laughter in his ears. Each step was a battle, his body protesting every movement, but the fear of what awaited him if he didn't follow through with their demand kept him moving forward. His heart raced as he approached Timmy's house, his stomach churning with a mix of nausea and dread.
The door swung open, and Timmy's eyes widened at the sight of him. The other boy's face was a mask of confusion and wariness, but there was something else there too—compassion. The kind of compassion Sam had never shown him. The kind of compassion that made him feel even more like the monster they'd turned him into.
With trembling hands, Sam wiped at his tears, trying to compose himself. "Timmy," he began, his voice a mere whisper, "I'm sorry." The words felt foreign on his tongue, a jumble of syllables that had never formed that particular order before. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I won't do it again."
Timmy's expression softened slightly, his eyes searching Sam's tear-stained face. He could see the sincerity in Sam's gaze, the desperation to make amends. "Why?" he asked, his voice small and uncertain. "Why did you bully me?"
Sam took a deep, shuddering breath. "Because... I was scared," he admitted, the words tumbling out of him like a confession. "Scared of being like everyone else says about me." His voice cracked, and he looked away, unable to meet Timmy's eyes. "But I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I'm really sorry."
Timmy's expression remained guarded, but Sam could see the flicker of understanding in his eyes. The smaller boy took a step closer, his gaze never leaving Sam's. "Why are you sorry now?" he pressed, his voice steady despite the tremor in his own chin.
"Because," Sam choked out, the reality of his words hitting him like a ton of bricks, "because of what they did to me." He swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice steady. "They showed me how much it hurts to be bullied, to be treated like...like I treated you." His voice broke on the last word, and he hung his head, the weight of his own guilt nearly unbearable.
Timmy stared at him, his eyes wide and searching. For a long moment, the only sound was the distant hum of a lawnmower somewhere in the neighborhood. Then, slowly, Timmy reached out and took Sam's hand. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice shaking. "I forgive you."
The words washed over Sam like a cool breeze, soothing the burn of his bruised ego and the ache of his battered body. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders, a weight that had been there for so long he hadn't even noticed it. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'll never do it again. I promise."
Timmy squeezed his hand, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I believe you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you have to tell everyone else too. You can't just pretend it didn't happen."
Sam nodded, the gravity of his actions finally sinking in. He knew he had to face the music, had to make things right. "I will," he promised, his voice firm. "I'll tell everyone at school, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you."
”Sounds good Sam!” Timmy said with a warm smile.