Blacklist

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A large shadow loomed over the groggy-eyed Blacklister as a shooting pain ripped through his body. His dick was hard and foul, aching for the sweet release of his own hand. Raul took a firm grasp of his untamed beast, and pulled down on it, sending a chill of ecstasy into his fiery hellspawn lodged between his legs. Stroke after stroke the demon refused to be tamed as he waged a war with his carnal urges. Finally just as he thought all hope was lost, the venomous cobra spat its hatred and bile onto his warm Latin body. He breathed a sigh of relief as once again his unruly animal was tamed. As he lay in bed, awash in the afterglow of battle, he knew that he would once again be forced to fight this thing that dominated his life. Victory would be short lived and conflict would soon rise once more... a hollow victory, but a victory none-the-less. His smartphone alarm went off, notifying him of the long day ahead. Today was the day that the government agent would come by to visit his office, and give a presentation on the changes in the socio-political landscape that was being called the New World Order... The Blacklist Laws. It was the first business day since the laws were unanimously backed and made provisionally permanent after the president signed the executive orders. Raul was one of the many men who were directly affected by these new laws, as he was Latino and blessed with gorgeous brown skin. He was tall, at six feet and eight inches tall with little hair on top that he shaved daily to hide the fact he was going bald. Some people thought he was a cholo as he kept things loose, and relaxed while sporting a trimmed black goatee. He wasn't as fit or as athletic as some of the other Blacklisters he knew; in fact some might call him pudgy, but never to his face. The Honduran wasn't overweight either but he never really worked out; what would be the point? Would it not make him a more enticing target for those that might desire him? He wasn't about to find out. As he climbed out of bed, his flaccid prick rolled around on his thighs, shifting its center of gravity as he got up. Unlike the rest of his body the thing between his legs was definitely fat. It was like someone had taken three nine and a half inch plantains and shoved them into a bratwurst skin. He never felt truly comfortable in clothes and was somewhat relieved when the laws changed, preventing him from wearing them anymore. The constant chafing was now nothing more than a fading bad dream... one that he was all too eager to forget. Raul put on his socks, followed by his sneakers before grabbing his keys and his wallet (that was attached to a lanyard which hung around his neck), along with his company issued smartphone, and raced out the door of his tiny, three room apartment.

Just as he exited, Mrs. Mulroney, the widow from two doors over, caught sight of him as she was walking her little mutt which she had adopted from a shelter, Buttons. With a "Harrumph," she walked past him, scoffing at the thirty-eight year old's abject nudity. She never much cared for him in the past, and she hated him now that he was forced into a life of permanent nudity. His flaccid prick smacked loudly against his flesh, echoing off the walls of the midsized hallway as he headed down the stairs, and outside to the parking lot where his car was. This was his life now: a three-room apartment, not a stitch of clothing on his caramel bod, and a tiny four door coupe. Every morning, his wife would leave tge apartment early so as to avoid any awkward encounters. His arousal became so painful that at times it would feel as though liquid magma had replaced his blood. It would wake him every morning between one and three a.m. forcing him to furiously masturbate until the pain subsided and his side of the bed was soaked in jizz. He got lost in thought about what his life was now: waking up at odd hours, furiously stroking himself off, never being soft for too long. He shook his head; he had no time for any dalliances if he wanted to make the meeting on time. He hopped into his car, his massive duck egg sized testicles grazing the soft, velvety seat cushion. His prick stirred once more as he felt the lurid pull of the fabric as it tried its damnedest to excite his nervous system; it was working. The beast he fought on a constant basis began to rouse from its slumber as he made his way through mid-morning traffic, taunting him with sexual, salacious images that danced in his head. Nude women's beach volleyball, nude women's gymnastics, and other nude women's activities paraded through his mind's eye as he drove down the highway, stopping at the off ramp, and pulling into downtown traffic. Only three blocks to go and he would be able to park his car in the company leased underground parking garage, and make his way to the surface. He finally arrived and managed to find a decent parking space, affording him fifteen hastened minutes to get to the meeting that would discuss the upcoming changes that were made by the Blacklist Laws. As he took the lift to the surface, his cock began to ache, spitting out pre-show fluids like a broken sieve. He wanted to stop and beat off, but he knew that he had no time to do that. In fact, he had barely enough time to wait for the doors of the lift to open. As he watched the numbers light up, he felt the sting of a light swat to his left butt cheek. He turned, and saw a man in a black polo and black dress slacks smiling mischievously back at him. "Hey baby," his voice was a deep baritone that Raul found to be somewhat soothing. "Why don't we skip work, go back to my place, and make good use of your tight ass?"

"N-n-no thanks," Raul stuttered as he towered above the five foot eight inch man. Why was he afraid of this... this little pipsqueak? What strange power did he have over him? The nude Honduran had no time to meditate on this issue as the elevator pinged and the doors slid open. He had a job to do, and a meeting to get to and he would be damned if some twenty year old punk was gonna sidetrack him. His man udder smacked loudly against his body as he went down the cement staircase of the entertainment area. It was home to several small sized concerts contained in the walls of several nightclubs, bars and restaurants that covered the top surface of the underground garage. Luckily, there were no cars to stop him as he raced across the open road, and up to the back entrance of the massive towering monolith that was his online banking job. He swiped his badge at the electronic security gate, taking little notice of the forty-five year old blacklisted security guard as the man was busy attacking his meat like it just threatened to cut him up. The nudist slapped the button for the corporate owned elevators, his meat barking at him like a rabid dog, sending the slightest hints of pain into his nervous system. The doors pinged open, announcing their arrival, and allowing him and his fellow coworkers to begin their long ascent to the levels that they worked on. In total, there were three Non-Blacklisters, another Blacklister, and two women in the lift. The three Non-Blacklisters were dressed in sharply tailored suits, giving them an air of authority and extravagance while the women were dressed in gray pencil skirts and matching gray suit jackets, and white blouses. The other Blacklister, a man of mixed heritage, was starting to stiffen after noticing Raul's unapologetic erection. The other Blacklister was slightly more trim than Raul, having a hint of muscle definition to his arms and legs. He looked as though he had a runner's build with flat, but not shredded, abdominal muscles. His eyes were a dark grey and his hair was shaved to his scalp. The fur around his crotch meat was curly and less pronounced than Raul's pubes. The fellow's meat however was a bit larger as it had to be ten inches long, with the heft of a bottle of a 500 count Tylenol pill bottle. As it grew in size, the naked Honduran noticed the precum that slimed its way from the fellow's tip. The penis wriggled and flopped as blood rushed into it, making it seem like it was the man's pet, bouncing around for its master's approval. Raul was once again made aware of his own tumescence as his beast pulsated and sent sparks of pain throughout his body. Raul needed to masturbate, and he needed to do it soon... otherwise the situation that he was in would get much worse. The doors to the machine soon opened and the other Blacklister vacated the room, along with the two women, one of which followed the naked fellow unknowingly and the other went in the opposite direction. The elevator continued its climb through the tower of commerce, leaving Raul all alone at the mercies of the three businessmen. They whispered amongst themselves, loud enough for them to understand one another, but soft enough to prevent the naked Honduran from hearing what they had to say. He felt the softest of touches as one of the men caressed his bare voluptuous ass cheeks, sending erotic blasts of bliss and agony into his body. The Latino buckled slightly as his rager throbbed once more, reminding of the necessity of his due diligence. They checked him out, whistling their approval of his naked form like a cartoon character on a children's show.

The doors pinged open once more, indicating that Raul had reached the floor that the meeting was being held on. Just as he stepped off, he heard one of them call out, "shake that sexy thang," before the doors slid shut. The Blacklister made a beeline to the conference room that had been established as the meeting ground for the government liaison. As he entered the room, he scanned the area locating the cheap "government grade" coffee and pastries that the company provided them. The offerings were quite meager, but they were better than nothing and the coffee still had the caffeine that his body craved to keep his energy going. Rows of black metal chairs with plastic cushions lined the beige and brown geometrically decorated carpet. Non-Blacklisters and Blacklisters began filing into the seats giving a sense of urgency to grab a pastry and styrofoam cup of coffee. He sat down in between two of his fellow non-blacklisted coworkers, Dave and Al, who were in cheaply tailored business suits. Other Non-Blacklisters from other departments were dressed, while all the other Blacklisters were stark naked in comparison. Like Raul, they too only wore socks and shoes on their feet, with wallets and credit card sized ID badges around their necks, and watches on their wrists. One of them leaned forward in his chair, and gave Raul a confused glance. He shrugged at Jose, indicating that he wasn't sure what else he could do. A small pack of fellow Blacklisters had stationed themselves in such a way that it appeared that they were all huddled together like dogs would huddle around each other for warmth and protection. Yes, other Blacklisters were interspersed with the Non-Blacklisters, but a group of them sat in an even square with Jose in the middle.

"Good morning all," a man at the front of the room got up and out of the chair that he had been sitting in, and made his way to the podium. "I see that everyone is here, so I will just cut right to the chase. By now you all have been made aware of the new executive orders that were signed into law this most recent Friday. These laws have been officially deemed the Blacklist Laws, and require all men of a certain profile to relinquish nearly every article of clothing and remain indefinitely naked from below the neck to above the ankles. I also see that all of you here now are complying with this new legal dress code; that is good. Many of you have questions about the implications that are carried with these laws, and as such your government has hired folks like me to visit various companies and provide answers to those questions. I will now yield the remainder of my time answering your questions so as to aid you all in assisting your employees with their questions. I will remain on site for the rest of the day aiding random groups of my choosing to repeat this presentation. Now, questions?"

One of the Non-Blacklisters hand shot up, "hi, James here; I'm just wondering how these laws will affect those with clothes versus those without?"

"That's easy: those without clothes will be free to engage in any sexual activities out in the open without fear of reprisal from the law. Those that wear clothes, must still remain dressed, and can partially disrobe to engage in sexual acts with those without. Sexual activities between the two groups will also be allowed anytime, anywhere with few legal restrictions."

"So there are certain things that are illegal?"

"Of course; those affected by the laws may not be within one thousand feet of minors, unless the minor or minors is or are under their legal guardianship. Basically there will be no Blacklisted teachers in K-12 schools, but parents may still retain custody of their own children."

"So how will they pick their children up from school?"

"They can remain in their vehicle, and even then must follow the one thousand foot rule. Next question!"

"What is the legal definition of a Blacklister," asked another Non-Blacklister.

"Excellent question; in short any male at or over eighteen years of age who comes from one of many countries, has a recent ancestor or ancestors from a said country, or otherwise has brown skin. They are NOT black, white, and certain Asians."

"Certain Asians?"

"Yes, those without the gorgeous brown skin are not, I repeat, NOT blacklisted."

"Which countries of origin ARE counted?"

"They're listed on our site. Let's move on!"

Another Non-Blacklister hand went up, "how do the sexual dynamics come into play under these new laws?"

"Excellent question; basically any sexual act or scenario will be allowed with a few provisions: no public defecation, no public urination, no public bathing, no snuff, and no permanent injuries. Two of those are being reassessed at this time and may at some point in the future be overturned."

"So basically sexual harassment is allowed?"

"Yes!"

A Blacklister chimed in, "I can sexually harass Non-Blacklisters?"

"No, sexual harassment of any kind against Non-Blacklisters is strictly prohibited and will follow the normal letter of the law."

"Well that seems hardly fair."

"No one said that life is fair... life is just life... you have to live it. Let's move on!"

Dave's hand shot up, "I've heard that Non-Blacklisters are allowed to rape and sexually violate Blacklisters; is that true?"

"In short, yes... yes it is. Non-Blacklisters may rape and sexually violate Blacklisters, and other Blacklisters may do the same to fellow Blacklisters. It is no longer counted as a crime when such acts occur and will no longer be counted in our statistical analyses when such acts occur. This applies to all Blacklisters regardless of social status, upbringing, age (so long as they are eighteen plus), and other such societal constructs/classes."

"So if I wanted to, I could just bend some guy over and go to town on his ass or mouth?"

"Yes"

"What's to stop him from doing the same to me?"

"The law... and the fall out from fighting back."

"What sort of fall out are we talking about," interrupted a Blacklister. "I mean it's not like they're gonna haul us off, right?" The man glared at the person that had asked the last question, "right?"

"It's best if we don't speculate on such matters," came his cold, aloof response.

"Fascinating," Dave commented. Raul didn't like the look that Dave was giving him as this new information began to marinate in each of their heads.

Another Blacklister spoke up, "can I be fired based on certain sexual traits or activities?"

"Yes"

"So if my boss blackmails me into sleeping with him and I don't go through with it..."

"Then you would be putting your job in jeopardy and it would be up to him whether or not he wished to retain your employment."

"What about women," another man asked, "how do they fit into all of this?"

"It has come to our attention that most women are indifferent to sex with men, and sex in general. Many women have started leaving their men in favour of same-sex relationships."

"Really? Wooooow - that's so trippy."

"Are Blacklisters allowed to cover themselves when they're in their own homes," the question was so innocent, so pure, that the Non-Blacklister who posed it seemed genuinely concerned about the well-being of his blacklisted peers.

"No... no they are not! Under NO circumstances is a Blacklister allowed to cover himself at ANY time - period! End of discussion!"

"What about marriages? What happens to men who wanna get married," asked another Non-Blacklister.

"Well marriages are a bit dubious; we're still working that part out. We plan on giving everyone an official statement on this matter in the next few months. Meanwhile, all marriages remain legal until that point."

"So really," another Non-Blacklister asked, "what's stopping me from sodomizing saayyyy... that hottie over there." The East Asian man pointed at a Blacklister five seats away from him.

"Nothing... as a matter of fact, if you wanted to force your way into him right now, you could. Take his male purity... he doesn't need it... emasculate him... use his taut masculine form to your heart's content. I mean, after all, if they didn't want to be raped, then they wouldn't be Blacklisters. They wouldn't be walking around butt ass naked all the time, cocks flopping every which way... teasing other men with the promise of sexual fulfillment. Just look at them... really look at them... they are very, very attractive. Oh sure they say they don't want it, and they scream, whine, and beg, but that doesn't matter. What matters is the other man's sexual fulfillment; the aggressor's sexual needs. His rapist comes first!" Raul could sense the atmosphere in the room suddenly change; an invisible curtain went up separating predators from prey. He was no longer seen as a human in charge of his own destiny, but a scared, furry little animal to be feasted upon. He quaked in the knowledge that at some point, some man would force his way into his body, and repeatedly violate him for hours... maybe even days.

"So," the first Non-Blacklister asked, "it's still called rape?"

"Exactly... they say that they don't want it, and that's true, buuuuut... who cares? We here at the U.S. department of legal codes and interpretations certainly don't care about that. What matters is that the rapist sexually gratifies himself; that's it... that's what it's all about."

"What about kidnapping," the first Non-Blacklister asked, "is it legal to kidnap a Blacklister and rape him for days?"

"Sure, go for it; the government won't stop you if you do. All sex related crimes involving Balcklisters will no longer be prosecuted. Kidnap them, rape them, break into their house in the middle of the night and have your way with them... it doesn't matter. Again, the only things that will definitely remain illegal are public defecation, death, and permanent damage. Other than those three things, plus public baths and urination, do what you want to them. Just don't steal from them either; removal of property is still illegal, despite your kink or fetish. As a matter of fact, the FDA will be releasing an over-the-counter date rape drug specifically designed with a zero percent mortality rate by year's end."

"Really?"

"Yeah, and you didn't hear it from me, but come this November there may be an amendment to allow public urination in the coming year."

"Wow, that sounds amazing!"

"It is!"

"What about immigrants and foreign visitors," queried one of the other Blacklisters, "how do they fit into all of this?"

"That's a bit more complex; for right now there is a heavily enforced immigration and travel embargo for the U.S. In short, no one in... no one out."

"What about visiting foregin dignitaries?"

"They've been encouraged to seek out their respective foreign consulates for further instructions. From what I understand, those who are in such places are being sent food and drink rations via airdrop so as not to spread the risk of possible infection."

"So it's a viral agent that is contaminating the U.S.'s population, correct," another Non-Blacklister seemed genuinely engaged in determining what was going on.

"Well the government is still determining what has happened over the past year or so. There seems to be no clear answer as to why men have become more sexually aggressive during this time."

"Is this being picked up by any news sources that we could follow?"

"Officially, this information is made available to those who request the findings. Unofficially, who cares? I mean, men who suffered from acute erectile dysfunction as of a year ago now have all the potency of an eighteen year old virgin nerd on prom night. Most people would say that's not a bad thing. Plus the average size of the male penis has gone up almost overnight. The standard is no longer five inches so much as it is seven. Men with micro-cocks have all but gone the way of the dinosaur. The few that remain will most likely see a change over the next several months to a year and a half."

"How will that affect those who fetishize men with micro-cocks? How will they cope?"

"Well the porn movies, sites, images, and so forth will still remain active and available to anyone who owns the material. It's not like it's all going to be magically erased from existence. We're the government, not the Ministry of Magic or whatever." A few people chuckled at the man's reference.

"Speaking of porn," the second Blacklister spoke up again, "what effects will these new laws have on the industry?"

"The government has no comment at this time."

"Surely with such a massive and sweeping change like this, it would render approximately... mayyyybbbeee... what, ninety percent of the sex trade industry moot?"

"Again, no comment at this time; thank you. Thank you all for coming; I look forward to working with your groups in the immediate future. You all are dismissed!" Raul felt something he had never felt before; it was warm and wet and it was coming from his left nipple. It was Al... he had his mouth wrapped over the Blacklister's left nipple, suckling upon his man teat, trying to suck the salty, spicy sweat from beneath his skin. Raul moaned, his cock straining towards his face, violently lashing out at him. The Honduran was helpless in the face of such raw overwhelming sexual energy. Over and over the Non-Blacklister gnawed on his left pec as pain and pleasure copulated bringing about fits of erogeness elation. It was more than the Latino could handle, more than anyone could handle. Raul's cock beckoned him, demanding to be played with, to be felt... to be loved. The man's hand stroked the Blacklister's backside, caressing it like a little furry rabbit in a petting zoo. Raul moaned, aching for release as his cock drooled, swollen from vitriol. Al's hand felt like a kiss from the Divine as it lovingly stroked Raul's hairless mounds. Just as he was ready to bend the Blacklister over and sodomize the living daylights out of him, an alarm went off alerting Al to his next meeting. He pulled his hand off his colleague's ass, stood up, and walked out of the room, leaving poor Raul with nothing more than a frustrating memory. The Honduran stood up after taking a moment to recover from the ordeal and then proceeded to leave. It was too much, and as he entered the hallway, he turned and leaned against the wall, giving him the appearance like he was going to urinate against the nicely papered wood. Instead he reached down to his still acrimonious member and tugged on it, masturbating himself to fruition. His hand pulled compulsively on the fat schlong, gracing him with the effervescent sensation of erotic bliss and lustful tingles that his sex addicted body now craved. The nudist stood there moaning to the wall and himself, "oh, oh, ohhhhuuuhhhhuuuhhhhahoooohhhh." It was more than sufficient to meet his needs... to facilitate his libidinous ardurs upon the ground. A couple of men had stopped to watch the testosterone driven beast; one out of curiosity and the other out of savage lust. One of the two Non-Blacklisters unzipped his fly, whipped out his own cock, and joined the Latino in his singular festivities. He was aroused by Raul's flagrant disregard for societal conventions which translated into the need for self-gratification. "Uh-he, uuhhh, uhhhhh-huuuuuhhh," Raul continued stroking his leaky massive pole inching closer to the precipice of release. His jizz churned and bubbled deep inside his body, preparing for the next few moments of discharge. "Oh-huh, oh-huh, oh-huh," his panting son filled the hallways, grabbing anyone's attention who happened to be passing by. The Latino brought himself to the edge, dangling back and forth between release and cessation for what felt like an eternity. The tension was electric: would he pop like a balloon at a party or would he stop and move on? "AYE, AYE, AYE," cum gushed out of him, soaking the point where carpet and wallboard met, splashing down, and flooding his spot. Men cheered as women walked away, beyond disgusted by such uncouth, ill mannered acts as public orgasming. Splooge painted the intersection of paper covered wood and cotton carpet, soaking down to the floorboards beneath his sneaker clad feet. Finally relief from his torment was in hand as the last little bits splashed into the puddle his sauce had made. Raul pulled back from the wall, breathing sighs of relief and unaware of the crowd that had gathered in the wake of his self-lovemaking.

As he walked down the hallway and to the elevator, he was completely oblivious to the men that were now desperately trying to lap up his leftovers from the wall and carpet. They looked like drug addicted junkies all vying for trace amounts of liquid crack, eager to get their next fix, and stupid enough to not realize that they should go straight to the source. Raul tapped the button to summon the metal transport to take him to the floor of the call center portion of the company. He didn't mind working there, in fact it was quite fun at times. His coworkers were all friendly people with which he shared a positive and trusting relationship with. He had known most of them for the past five years and felt secure in the fact that none of them would rape a Blacklister, let alone touch one. He entered the mobile room and the machine began its ascent to the upper level on which he worked, the digital display increasing as it made its upward journey. "So has anyone ever told you how incredibly smokin' hot you are," the question hung in the air as the Non-Blacklister looked him over. He was shorter than Raul at only five feet and nine inches tall. His features indicated a strong Korean ancestry with his hair as black as any Blacklister's hair. He wore a dark navy blue suit with a solid red necktie that hung from the collar of his starch white dress shirt. Shadows covered his waist obscuring the dress belt that held his matching navy blue pants up. Two black reflective shoes covered his small feet that had two black tassels on each of them. He stared at the naked mountain of testosterone, his pants visibly tenting as he awaited the reply of his compliment. "I mean, my god, you're like a sublime living tree and I want to climb every one of your branches." Raul's package stirred from its slumber, betraying the Latino's disgust with being hit on in such a crude fashion. The Korean reached out and grabbed both of Raul's hefty orbs, fondling them like Chinese meditation balls. "And your nuts... your nuts are some of the biggest I've seen all day. I bet you shoot like an ocean of jism when you get fucked, don't ya?"

"Uhhhhhh," Raul stammered, unsure of the Korean man's motives, "thanks... I guess?" Raul's prick continued to inflate, the Non-Blacklister's eyes widening with utter erotic fixation. The man backed up, staring into Raul's singular spiteful, virulent testosterone laden, weeping eye. The thing throbbed and snarled at the Korean, liquid hatred dripping its mouth, threatening the man with its scalding venom, ready to pounce and turn the Non-Blacklister into its bitch. The Korean reached out caressing it in his bare hands, taming the beast with the attention it desperately needed. Raul was under the man's thrall, moaning and whimpering as the Non-Blacklister worked to sooth his savagery. The Honduran's forward facing tail twitched and wriggled its approval as Raul hunched forward slightly, melting from relief of having his gusher under control. He moaned and groaned, falling deeper and deeper under the man's wicked spell. It wasn't until they reached Raul's floor that he shot round after round of gratitude onto the short man, basting him with his ample thanks. He howled with joy as he drenched the fellow, pouring out all his delight onto the man's face and hair. After the last few droplets fell to the floor, Raul became keenly aware of the situation that he was in and that he was on the floor he needed to be on. The naked Honduran exited the lift, leaving the Korean to deal with his leftovers however he saw fit.

As the doors closed, the Non-Blacklister smiled, "what's your number?" Before Raul had time to formulate a response, the doors snapped shut, cutting off all avenues of communication. Raul sauntered over to his desk on the call floor, genitals swaying with every step that he took. He passed by the rows of computers stationed on top of desks which were anchored to the half walls. They looked to have been haphazardly installed with the way that they were set up. Despite their frail appearance, these desks could hold the weight of the average male human easily before the bolts that held them aloft would begin to buckle. Each desk had a worker sitting in front of the computer typing away, listening to complaints, and trying to offer solutions. A few of the blacklisted employees were busy playing with their tallywhackers, breathing heavily into their headsets as they milked themselves mercilessly. A cascading pool of seminal fluid fell from their black rolling office chairs, collecting on the geometrically decorated brown and tan carpet below them. A couple of Non-Blacklisters were eagerly sucking their blacklisted colleague's dicks, drinking the milk that their goo factories produced. The Blacklisters leaned back in their chairs, each one of them Passion's hostage, unable to move or think as their clothed compatriots suckled ravenously upon their large udder. Raul watched, his cock once again plumping with forbidden desire as he watched his employees fornicate with abandon. He wanted his dick sucked... he wanted someone, anyone, to crawl under his desk, and forcefully suck his cum out of his dispenser. He stared, wondering how they breathed as he could see the Blacklisters' cocks were busy pumping fluid into the bellies of their coworkers. He was mesmerized... enchanted... unable to move from that one spot as if something forced him to bear witness to his employees' unending journey of erogeness elation. It was then that they started growing louder as their loins made one massive push over the edge, releasing copious amounts of fluid into their hostage takers' bodies. Relieved from the pressure of the moment, they sat with a goofy grin like one might see on a junkie after shooting up. The spell was broken and Raul was free once more, resuming his journey to his free floating supervisors' desk.

The naked Latino sat down in his rolling office chair as precum leaked uncontrollably from the tip of his engorgement. Before getting started, he logged into his PC in preparation for the day. He immediately typed in his password and got logged into the system, relaxing as he waited for the software to finish its boot cycle. This afforded him to another wrestling match with his genitals, a match in which he was eager to get started. Although he was right handed, he enjoyed using the left at times to pleasure himself as a means of providing quite the difference in self-stimulation. He reached into his desk drawer, pulled out the bottle of hand lotion he kept for winter months, and went to town. His left hand bobbed up and down on his vitriol filled male harpoon, stroking it, caressing it, loving it. He pictured bare breasted nymphs frolicking in a dewey glade, teasing him with lusty, oversized breasts, and only stopping to complain about how heavy they were to carry. Raul felt waves of unimaginable pleasure coursing through his soft but manly body. With his right hand, he reached up and gave each of his nipples one good twist, giving him an erotic spark of pain. Soon he was bucking his hips up into his left hand, meeting the downstroke with fervency. His juices churned and bubbled deep inside his exposed, racy body as he started to feel a tingling sensation in them. The pressure in his loins grew as more bare breasted nymphs joined the revelry in his mind's eye. Seconds ticked by while the Honduran let the rest of the world around him melt away. Nothing remained but the buxom naked nymphs frolicking around and the burdening of his gonads. "AYE, AYE, AYE," he cried as great swathes of hot jism erupted from his brown hefty volcano stick. "OH FUCK YES, I FUCKING LIKE THAT BABY! OH HELL YEAH!" It took him a full thirty seconds before he finished flopping in his chair like a fish out of water. When he was done, he sat there, recovering from this mind clearing orgasm. Little globs dripped from his chair cushion and onto the floor, as he recovered his expended energy. Raul swiveled his chair back to his PC, and opened Outlook, checking the emails that were issued out from yesterday to today. Most of it was the usual dreck that he dealt with, but one in particular stood out. An all departments memorandum sent to every employee in the company from the bank's CEO. It read as follows:

Effective immediately, the following changes will take place:

1. Sexual harassment of any Blacklister, regardless of rank, will no longer be a fireable or legal offense. This includes, but is not limited to, public displays of sexual activity, consensual or otherwise.

2. All Blacklisters will comply with any sexual request, order, command, and/or demand given to them by another regardless of rank in the company.

3. Higher ranked officials, such as managers and supervisors, may order the blacklisted employees that work below them to private bathings at any given time. A private bathing room on each floor for employee use has been provided by the company. Running taps to be installed at a later time. Please make use of public bathroom taps and company provided buckets in the meantime.

4. All Blacklisters as of now are obligated to participate in weekly beauty pageants every Monday. Each floor will have its own winner that will be voted on by all male employees on said floor. Winners will receive a special reward after voting is complete.

5. All blacklisted employees are also obligated to participate in weekly twerking competitions held on Tuesdays. Each floor will also have its own winner. Prizes to be determined at a later time.

6. Weekly Blacklister ejaculatory competitions to be held by each floor on Wednesdays. Prizes to be determined at a later time.

7. All Blacklisters will be subject to ejaculation tests during their regular employee reviews moving forward. If an employee refuses, he's subject to penalties up to and including termination of position from the company.

8. ANY employee found in violation of Blacklist Laws will be subject to termination without appeal. NO EXCEPTIONS!

9. Any Blacklister refusing to participate in aforementioned activities will be subject to penalties up to and including termination of position. NO EXCEPTIONS OR APPEALS!

As always, we look forward to your participation in all morale boosting activities and welcome any feedback you may have.

We are one big, happy family, so let's remember that we're in this together.

Much love, David Waterson CEO and founder

Raul's heart sank as he quickly realized that there was going to be a major shift in dynamics between him and his employees. He was hoping that his company would at least keep up the illusion of a chain of command despite what he learned in his early morning meeting. He looked up and watched Jose head off to his first orientation of that day, informing the employees of the new legal changes. Raul wondered if Jose was truly prepared for the shift in the dynamics in the day-to-day workings between the two new social classes. The Honduran jumped as a scream echoed off the walls of the call center. Someone, somewhere was being brutally raped by another man. The Blacklister called out, "SOMEONE HELP ME! HE'S TRYING TO RAPE ME! OH GOD - NO, PLEASE NO! HE'S GONNA - AHHHHAAAHHH-AYEEEEEE-HEHE!" It didn't take a genius to figure out what had just happened: the fellow had been penetrated. Right now, the Blacklister was in unimaginable pain as his coworker had forced his penis into his coworker's anus. Raul wondered if it was as painful as he had heard it to be. Was it true that it felt like you were being torn apart from the inside out? What did it really feel like to have your insides ripped to shreds? Did you really bleed from your anal cavity during the entire event? Would that same blood continue to fall out after the rape ended? What about the other man's ejaculatory fluid? There were so many questions he had, but he was none too keen at learning the info first hand. The idea that he was only going to be seen as a walking cum dumpster for the rest of his days didn't sit too well with him. Not only that, but the very idea that other men would take him by force made him feel less manly. It was like they were taking his whole identity away from him, not to mention his purity. Another shriek made his blood run ice cold as he tried not to imagine himself in that position. Raul tried to ignore his fellow Blacklister's calls for help, comforting himself with the notion that he could do nothing to prevent it. The other male begged for mercy from his attacker as well protested, citing his own heterosexuality. This of course did nothing to stop the rape, try as the victim might. The naked Honduran, tried to busy himself by reading more emails as the victim made another appeal to the rest of his coworkers. Then Raul froze after opening the latest email from his boss: he was to report to room eight on this floor in twenty minutes. What did he want? Was he going to be fired? Was his boss going to demand that they start sleeping together? Or worse still, was his boss going to rape him? His thoughts raced as he sat there dreading what would happen as he read the email over and over again.

The Blacklister's heart sped at what felt like hundreds of beats a second. The room started to spin as shadows started closing in around him, choking out every beam of light in the room. What was he gonna do? What if his boss raped him? What then? Surely there had to be some sort of protocol for this. Maybe it was a joke... a sick twisted joke that at any moment everyone would turn around and yell "surprise" and give his clothes back to him. Or maybe this was one of the longest nightmares he ever had the misfortune of dreaming up. Maybe he'd wake up in his bed with his wife all safe and sound, his bed sheets soaked in sweat. Just before the darkness became too much, a coworker came over and asked him something. At first Raul didn't hear it... he was too far lost in his own head to reply. The coworker repeated the question, "shouldn't someone do something? Shouldn't we stop him from being raped?" It was Todd; another fellow Blacklister who was half black and half white, giving him a light mocha brown look to him. The kid was barely nineteen and his curly brown hair clung to his scalp as if it somehow protected his head. He had two big brown eyes that were the same color and consistency as a Tiger's Eye stone. His lips were full and pouty which seemed to beckon others into pressing his lips to theirs. He was thin and a bit lanky, trimmed with barely any sign of muscle shape to him. In fact if it weren't for his two milk chocolate colored, dime sized, sharp nipples, one would think he had no chest at all. A single trail of hair led from underneath his belly button to his curly mocha pubic bush between his spindly legs. What he lacked in muscle definition he more than made up in cock size. It was long and fat, circumcised at birth most likely, but had to be at least twelve inches long. Its girth made it as thick as a currywurst as it flopped around anytime he went walking. He was hairless from the bellybutton to the scalp and not strand on his legs or his perky round bubble butt. Raul looked at this twink, and thought about the kid's offer to aid his fellow Blacklister in his time of need.

The naked Latino shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly, "I honestly don't know what to do. We've never faced a situation like this before."

Todd steeled his resolve, "if no one else will do something, then I will." The naked youth balled his hands into a fist, and marched his way around the corner to the source of the shrieks and screams. Raul heard Todd bark at the rapist, "hey you guys, leave him alone!"

"Look fellas," an unfamiliar voice taunted back, "fresh meat. I do love veal!" It was then that Raul heard a few soft thuds, followed by a much louder one. His heart sank as all hope that he had of anyone fighting back died the second he heard the next sounds.

"No, please no," Todd's commands had been replaced with begging, "please don't; I'm sorry! I'll never do it again, I swear!"

"Of course you'll never do it again! But if we don't rape you, how will any of the others learn from your mistake?"

"NO, NO PLEASE - I SAID I WAS SORRY! PLEASE - PLEA-EEEE-AHHHHHHH-HAH!" Todd joined the other victim in screams of torment. It was as if they had entered into a shouting match and both males were determined to win. Raul looked at his watch, noting the time: three minutes until the meeting with his boss. He locked his computer as he got up to leave the call floor, resigning himself to the same fate that befell Todd... that would befall every Blacklister at some point in his existence: he was going to be raped. The thirty-eight year old Honduran shuffled over to the room that had been specifically designated for this meeting and with a heavy heart turned the knob and pushed the door open. Much to his astonishment, he found not only his boss standing in the room stark naked, but his best friend and Hispanic coworker Alex there, too. In the center of the room stood what appeared to be a large porcelain tub that had been filled with soap suds and water. A large metal bucket sat empty next to the tub, that seemed to have a bright shimmering sheen to it as though it once held water in it. Alex was an amateur bodybuilder with a beauty and physique that made him stand out in any crowd. In another life he could easily have been a ludicrously wealthy male underwear model, easily grabbing every award for such things (if they existed) and taking any gig he could ever want. The world would have danced and sang, performing to the tune he would have set, while he was up to his perfectly styled hair in pussy. No woman would have said no to those sparkling Tiger's Eye brown ocular beauties that were nestled in his head. Yes, he was truly blessed by nature with heavenly genetics and a balloon- like ass that wouldn't quit. His smile made both men and women putty in his hands while his muscles would have threatened to tare any textile from his bulging form, if he was able to wear clothes. To say that he had washboard abs and perfectly sculpted pecs was an understatement; the latter of which were dotted with two tiny nipples that poked out from the bulk of his chest. The mandatory v-line that led down to his inky black bush and hulking, obese eleven inch cock and duck egg sized testes somehow was more attractive on him than any other man. Even Raul fantasized about being his fuck toy every once in awhile... home alone, no one able to hear Raul and his fantasies. At those times he'd beat off to the image of Alex coming over to his desk, ramming his tongue down his throat, and fucking him raw for hours on end. He'd call out Alex's name once orgasm was finally achieved, while a river of spooge always accompanied each of those jerk sessions.

"Please close the door," his boss Damon instructed. Damon was a proud, tough forty-eight year old black man who found his hair only recently started turning gray. At six feet and two inches high he was taller than the muscle-bound Alex but shorter than Raul. He was powerful, imposing, and very athletic compared to the Honduran. Although not nearly as beefy as Alex, he still had a muscular body and looked as though he frequently worked out. His biceps were a bit bigger than a softball, and his abs contained only the slightest hint of definition. His eyes were dark brown almost to the point of being inky black, with just barely a hint of light tenting to them. Unlike some of the others in the office, he had zero hair below the neck. A five o'clock shadow drove home his model-good looks. His cock was already standing at attention before Raul had even entered the room and gave off a threatening aura towards the two Blacklisters. When he spoke, his voice was calming yet oddly sexually arousing at the same time, which was a bit of a conflict for his listeners. "Raul, Alex, thank you both so much for attending this meeting today. I really mean that... I do."

"What's going on here," questioned Alex.

"Yeah, why are we here," Raul and Alex were both nervous and puzzled, although Alex seemed less so.

"Excellent questions, the two of you. As you may be aware by now, there was a company-wide memorandum sent out to all employees' inboxes earlier today outlining new office behaviors among blacklisted and non-blacklisted coworkers."

"Yeah and? That still doesn't explain why you are totally naked right now."

"Well it sorta does... you see it mentions that non-blacklisted higher ups may demand private bathing sessions with regards to blacklisted employees. There was a bit of an error and a new revision will be issued later. That's not the point."

"Ok so what is the point," Alex sniped.

"Good question, I want Raul here, aka your best friend, to bathe you, Alex, in the bubble bath that I have drawn for you. I, of course, will supervise by providing words of encouragement and tips on what to do, while teasing myself until I'm ready to spill my seed"

"WHAT - no... awwwww hell no!"

"Not to worry, not to worry, you can bathe Raul if you like. But I get to watch you two clean each other off."

"Fuck off you sick fuck... that's some grade A perverted bullshit right there!"

"Yeah," Raul insisted, "I'd NEVER do something that gay to my best friend! Get bent!"

"Ok, I hear what you're saying and I respect your decisions..." Raul turned to leave the room, "but if you both leave now, not only will I report your refusals to the proper authorities, I'll also sue you both for breach of contract. You'll both be so far in debt to this company that your great great great grandkids will need three jobs in hopes of paying back the interest." The pair of Blacklisters stopped dead in their tracks. They looked at each other and grimaced; they knew their boss had them by the balls and there was nothing they could do to fight back.

"Ok..." Alex replied, voice low from defeat.

"You win," Raul finished Alex's statement as they both turned around and faced their boss with shame in their hearts and souls.

"Yes," Damon cheered while doing a mid air first pump, "excellent! Ok, now Alex... you'll be first to get into the tub... and Raul you'll be second."

Alex shamefully sauntered over to the tub, while his manager sat down on the cushioned folding chair that sat in the right corner of the room, opposite of the doorway. The room was brilliantly illuminated by fluorescent lights that were shoved into the ceiling just like any other office space. The walls had brown wood paneling and no windows. Next to the folding chair sat a black duffel bag filled with all sorts of goodies for staff members to use in bathing their coworkers. In the opposite corner, on the left, was Damon's clothes laying crumpled and stacked in a pile. Steam still rolled off the bath water, indicating that it was warm enough to be comfortably used. Water sloshed around as Alex climbed into the tub, the suds covering his torso and armpits. He sheepishly watched as Raul climbed in shortly after him, who also was none too eager to engage in this act of wanton debauchery. Both sat cross-legged in the bathtub to give the other enough room so as to not be on top of the other... not yet anyway. Damon smiled, "there... now doesn't that feel good? Doesn't that relax you both?" The room was silent save for the sound of bubbles popping tickling the tight skin of both Blacklisters as Damon awaited a response that wouldn't come. Instead, the naked Non-Blacklister sat down in the folding chair, legs spread wide apart, giving emphasis to his rock-hard genitalia. "Ok you two, stand up carefully so neither of you will be injured. Alex, I want your back facing Raul there and Raul," he reached into the bag and tossed the tall Honduran a sponge, "I want you to start by washing Alex's back. I want you to be slow and sensual about it and describe everything you are doing to him as you do it." The pair of them stood up as their manager played with his cock, his dark eyes locked on their naked forms. Suds cascaded down Alex's back, draping him in a suit of white foam. Raul bent down, dipped the sponge into the warm fluid before running it across Alex's thick meaty back.

As the water drizzled down his buddy's back, Raul started his narration, "I'm applying bath water to my friend's back -"

Damon shook his head out of frustration, "no, no, no... please God, no. Make it sexy... make it sensual... you're seducing both him and me. Make me want Alex's body for my own; try again!"

Raul started once more, "the warm suds caress my friend's sumptuous manly flesh as they cascade off his brown tawdry skin and hulking muscles."

"Better," Damon cheered him on, "go on."

"His tight muscular buns look so... so thick and inviting. They look like large round apples, and they are begging for me to take a bite out of them. The soap frosts them like two round large cakes, only adding to my mounting hunger." Damon watched as both Raul and Alex's dicks started to harden, stroking himself to Raul's sooth melodic voice.

"Alex," Damon interrupted, "Raul's pet cobra seems to be quite irritated with you and quite chilly, too. Do you have some place that would not only soothe its rage, but also keep it warm and toasty?" Alex fearfully shook his head, "oh come now, his cobra won't hurt you. It'll just sit there on the outside pressed between your mounds. Raul, your friend Alex has offered to warm your pet cobra with his backside. How about you stick it between his big bubbly buns? That should keep it all nice and warm and toasty while you wash him. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Raul shook his head, his cock beyond livid with the notion of being lodged between Alex's herculean ass mounds. It wriggled and rattled menacingly as it met Raul with its singular eye, antagonizing Alex's firm buns. Alex turned at his waist, looking down at Raul's nine and a half inch pet, only to find it hissing and snapping at the nude bodybuilder. Alex nearly jumped with fright before turning around, reluctantly moving back, pressing the miscreant in between his lusty, sinewy buns. Instantly, Raul felt a shiver of pleasure race up from his crotch and lodge itself into his brain, causing him to whimper softly. "Now Raul," Damon questioned, "how does that make you feel?"

Raul's breath became shallow, drawing in short quick breaths as his cock had been transported to a world the likes of which he had never felt before. Alex instinctively used his butt cheeks to clamp down on Raul's tool, sending wave after wave of pleasure into the nude Honduran. Raul's eyes were shut as he kept whimpering the whole time, unable to think or move... unwilling to tare his pleasure away from the source. It felt as though Nirvana and Heaven got together and had produced a baby as Alex held Raul's staff in place. "Oh, pant OH breathe OHHHH," Raul was breathless, unable to think of anything past his pole as it sang sweet melodies to him. He was passion's prisoner, and he wanted nothing more than to remain captive to it. Meanwhile, Alex's heartbeat had quickened as he was afraid that his friend might shove his crotch cobra into his virginal snake pit. He heard the sounds Raul was making and quivered with fear, too afraid to do anything but remain nearly motionless and pray that his friend would do the same.

Their boss reached into the bag once again and fished out a metal tripod that had been designed to allow most smartphones to be mounted upon it. He then got up, retrieved his smartphone from his pants pocket, and attached it to the tripod, before sitting back down. Damon tapped on it and a light came on indicating that the group was now being recorded. "Ok, so here we have Alex Jaramillo and Raul Ortiz who are two very attractive male specimens employed here at Homeland Banking and Investment Firm. Raul, the tall one, has lodged his firm cock in between the muscular and handsome Alex's butt cheeks. The two are best friends in real life so I thought it would be nice if they were to take their friendship further by bathing together. Go ahead Alex and flex for the camera. Your fans will wanna see what you're working with." While keeping a firm grip on Raul's prick, Alex raised his arms up to his head, bending them at the elbow in order to form a trident shape. His biceps tensed and bulged, causing a few of his veins to pop out. A look of abject humiliation was plastered across his face as he stood there, soap foam and water slowly dripping down his back and onto Raul's tool. Raul, meanwhile, was still trapped in prison of ecstasy, unaware of what was happening around him. The only sounds he made were those of unfettered sexual tension, moaning and panting the entire time. Precum madly leaked out of his piece and onto his best friend's ass all the while his eyes were sealed shut and his mouth was agape. "Hey, I know," Damon suggested, "what if we get Raul to rape Alex? We could have Alex's best friend take his virginity on camera for all to see! Wouldn't that be fun folks? I'm sure Raul would enjoy it." Alex trembled, sending Raul into overdrive, as fear took full control of Alex's body and mind. Raul started to instinctively thrust his hips back and forth causing his Latin meat to slide up and down the gash between Alex's butt cheeks. Damon laughed as he watched the Honduran grind against his best friend while Raul reached out, grabbing Alex by the beefy shoulders. Alex froze as he felt his best friend's crotch snake slither and slide between his brawny ass cakes, a bead of sweat dripping from his brow. What was Raul going to do, Alex wondered? Was his best friend really going to rape him? Did the man who he thought was a thousand percent straight really gonna sodomize him here in this small room? Did Raul intend on forcefully taking Alex's virginity from him? He wasn't sure; his terror increased as Raul continued to rock back and forth, grinding his pork-sword against his puckering rectum.

"Puh-puh-please R-r-r-Raul," Alex woefully begged, "don't rape me." Raul couldn't hear his friend... he was too far gone. He kept thrusting forwards and backwards, sliding his massive tool in between Alex's tight buns, while their boss filmed them the entire time, laughing. Precum leaked from Raul's fat tip like a waterfall, glazing Alex's pastries with his sticky goodness. Alex then started to whimper, tears welling up in his eyes. He used to be an Alpha male, top dog, and now... now, he was nothing more than his best friend's bitch. Raul's thrusting became harder and more fervent, jamming it aggressively between Alex's tawdry cakes. He was getting close... if he just went a little bit faster, and a little bit harder, he could achive - "OH, OH, OH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST," the Honduran yelled as his pet cobra spat its venom onto Alex's taut muscular back. Damon howled with laughter as he watched Alex grimace and heave while Raul unloaded onto his best friend's back. Soap and cum mixed and merged onto the beefcake's backside covering Alex with Raul's spicy fluid. As he started to recover, Raul opened his eyes and found his best friend frozen with fear, too stunned to move while at the same time he trembled uncontrollably with fear. Raul backed away, his crotch meat still roiling with unbridled fury. It snarled and snapped at his best friend, emblazoned with the rage of a thousand suns burning in the icy, frigid depths of space. It wanted Alex's body and it would stop at nothing until it had it once more. Damon cackled again and again as he watched Raul's cobra continue to hiss and rattle, taunting his friend, threatening him with a savage, relentless attack.

"Raul," their boss, still naked and hard as a rock, "Alex is feeling very threatened right now. Why don't you two kiss and make up?" Alex turned around and faced Raul, knowing that neither of them had a choice in the matter. Raul leaned in and politely gave a quick peck on Alex's left cheek. He looked over for his manager's approval, only to see the man with a look of annoyance pasted to his face. "No, not like that. He still feels too vulnerable... your friendship won't survive if you don't mean it. Lean in and give a long, slow, passionate kiss like you do with your wife anytime you make love to her." Raul swallowed hard, he could feel his stomach bile rise up at the notion of having to kiss another man, let alone his best friend. The nude Honduran closed his eyes, leaned into the beefcake's face and slowly kissed the man, all the while fighting the urge to vomit. Alex gagged as his best friend pressed his lips gently to the Ecuadorian's lips, softly kissing him as the pair stood in the tub, dripping with soap and water. "There now Alex, don't you feel better? Raul wants you to know how sorry he was for popping his gooey load onto your back. Raul, what do we say when we shoot onto our best friend's back instead of into it?"

Raul murmured, "I'm sorry."

"Come again? I didn't hear that."

"I said 'I'm sorry,' alright?"

"Better - Alex, do you accept Raul's apology?" Alex nodded, eager to just move on, to just leave this chamber of horrors. "Good, now we can continue bath time. Raul, Alex's front is still very dirty. What can you do to help him with that, hmmmm?" Raul bent down, grabbing the water logged sponge, and stood up bringing the sponge down on his friend's broad, meaty chest. He gave the thing a gentle squeeze, letting the warm, soft fluid spill down Alex's hulking form. Bubbles clung to Alex's naked flesh like a skin-tight rubber suit, accenting every bulge on his exposed form. Alex's nude body glowed as the fluorescent lighting lit up his skin, giving him a sexually arousing shimmer. Raul looked down at Alex's viper as the suds caressed his chiseled features. The thing hissed and hemmed as it became angrier and angrier, threatening Raul with its own brand of spiteful vitriol. "My, my Raul," Damon sneered, "it seems it's Alex's turn to need someplace friendly for his enraged pet. Now, what do you think you should do?" Raul started to turn around only to be stopped. "Nooooo, not that, you still haven't finished cleaning Alex. Poor boy is still so dirty. beat I know, why don't you get to your knees, and place his snake into your warm, loving snake hole... you know the one attached to your face."

Raul swallowed hard before fear and disgust pushed their way back up; "no," he whispered.

A flash of surprise hopped across their boss's face, "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"I won't do it! I won't suck my best friend off."

"OK, well then I guess you don't want a job. Maybe I should contact the authorities and inform them that you'll be leaving our employ and that you are ready for what happens next, then." Raul froze, his thoughts racing as he weighed the consequences and the rewards of what it was that his boss wanted him to do. Was he really going to suck his best friend's cock? Would that make him gay? What if his wife found out? Would she really divorce him if she caught him having sex with a man? What if he liked it? Would that make him gay?

"Fine..." Raul broke his silence, and started to kneel, "I'll do it!"

"Excellent," their boss replied, "I am so glad that you decided to cooperate." Raul gazed into his friend's masculine eye as it leaked with rancor now that he was at its level. A twinge of fear blazed through him; not fear of the act, but fear from his buddy's tool. He wondered what it would do to his throat: would it try and rip it apart, or would it just sit there and do nothing. The second Raul wrapped his lips around the head of the beast, Alex let out a moan. Never before had anyone sucked his morbidly obese, eleven inches of pure, rabid enmity like the way his friend was doing now. It was pure heaven, a kind of bliss that he had never felt before. As Raul slowly devoured inch after corpulent inch, Alex fell further and further under the sway of erotic delight. The Ecuadorian could do nothing but moan and whimper as his flabby man sausage was slowly devoured by his own best friend.

At the first inch, Raul thought, "this isn't so bad; I can do this." After inch three, he thought "well it is pretty fat, and it does fill my entire mouth... but still, easy." When it came to inch six, the Honduran thought, "wow, this thing is huge! How do gay guys do this and not pass out?" Inch nine was beyond problematic and it was a miracle he could shove so much into him. Finally, as he slowly devoured inch eleven, his breathing became a struggle as most of Alex's beast had cut off his airway. Tears streamed from his eyes, trickling down his cheeks (as they changed color) and onto the ground. He could barely hear his boss's laughter as the room spun recklessly around, forcing him to somewhat lose his balance. Alex was in heaven; never had he ever felt something that amazing... that splendid... that ecstatic before in his entire life. He didn't have to do anything but remain motionless and allow Raul to consume his rotund beast. Raul tried to pull back only to find his friend's hand on the back of his head. The naked Latino pushed his buddy's hand away just as Alex started to thrust his hips up and into his mouth. Raul paused as Alex howled, blasting him with a tsunami of man milk. Ounce upon ounce upon ounce smashed into the Honduran's face, drenching it in molten jism. Beads of cum dribbled down Raul's face as Alex howled while his cobra spat its hatred onto his best friend. Finally, after a solid minute of non-stop explosions of fuck juice, Alex was spent and gasped for air, relishing in the afterglow. Raul was unable to move, blinded by his buddy's overly ambitious load. He sat in the tub while goo trickled down his face and into the tepid bathwater. He could hear his boss howling with laughter as the man grabbed a towel to help the humiliated Blacklister clean himself off. Raul felt the soft fluff of the textile brush up against his shoulder and reached out to grab it, wiping off Alex's sopping cum.

"Very good you guys, but now that Alex is clean, its Raul's turn to get washed." Raul got the last remaining bits of goop off his face, allowing him to see what was happening around him. "Raul, Alex wants to start with your back. How about you turn around and allow our beefcake here to use his bulging biceps and forearms to scrub you down, hmmm?" Raul slowly turned around, making sure not to slip into the tub. He then felt Alex's powerful arms rub up against him, the sponge drizzling with room temperature soapy water. "Alex," Damon stopped the hulk from what he was doing, "let's play a new game, shall we? It's called 'Human Washrag' and the way you play is you are the wash rag and you use your whole body to scrub down your friend there. So go ahead, and start rubbing." Alex swallowed down his fear and disgust as he leaned into Raul's backside, rubbing his muscular frame against Raul's globby, undefined form. Raul shuddered as he felt his friend's rigid pole rub up against his backside, grinding into his large shapeless butt cheeks. Meanwhile, Alex felt wonderful as his bare sturdy lightly browned flesh rubbed up against Raul's masculine skin. It was soft, warm, and inviting... like an angel's kiss wrapped in a blanket yet having enough firmness to cause the right amount of friction to push him towards the goal. Alex inherently wrapped his bulky limbs around his soft, supple, shapeless friend. The soapy water began to warm up between the two nude men as Alex slid up and down Raul's back. It was another five minutes of rubbing before he was able to crank out another load, splashing up into the tiny crevices where their skin could not physically meet. He let out soft pants and moans as his corpulent piece splattered Raul with a tidal wave of goop. Raul counted the seconds as they slowly ticked by, adding to his humiliation and disdain for bathing on camera. He reached the seventy-five second marker before Alex showed any sign of slowing and another twenty past that before the Ecuadorian had finally finished. Raul could feel the heated vapor of his friend's breath graze the nape of his neck as his friend basked in the afterglow of the orgasm. Once Alex's breathing had returned to normal, he backed away from his friend, his face bright red with his head hung low. "Not so fast Mr. Jaramillo," Damon stopped Alex dead in his tracks, "you still haven't finished cleaning your friend. There's still his front that you need to scrub clean."

Raul turned around to face Alex, his beast pulsating with spite, ready to strike out and shoot its newly minted disdain all over Alex's muscular and cut body. Alex trembled with anxiety as he could see the vitriol radiating outwardly from Raul's slithering, writhing crotch snake. "You'll need to make sure your body is covered in soap first Mr. Jaramillo," their boss offered. Having dropped the sponge into the warm suds, Alex was forced to bend over once again to retrieve the soapy sponge. He dragged it across his chest, the foam gently cascading down across his ripped, chiseled features. Damon was practically salivating with ravenous desire as he watched the pair degrade themselves in front of the black man while being recorded on camera for the whole world to see later. The Non-Blacklister leaned in, his own desires piqued by the sadism of the moment. Having covered the front half of his muscle-bound body in suds, Alex had no choice but to press his flesh against his best friend's skin. The nude Ecuadorian wrapped himself around the frame of the Honduran, gagging and heaving the entire time. Stomach bile shot up through his esophagus, causing him to choke a little as he pulled it back down, knowing that if it came out, the situation would become far worse than it already was. "Good, good," Damon praised, "now rub your body against his. You need to scrub him clean and it won't work if you don't slide up and down." Alex squeezed his eyes shut as he slid up and down the flesh of Raul's body, still gagging with disgust and abject humiliation. Raul's stomach was also convulsing as he retched with humiliation and revulsion from being taken advantage of. Both men's members remained taut and rigid in defiance of their masters' wishes, each threatening the other with their vile demon mucus. As Alex rubbed up and down Raul's body, Damon spoke, "Alex, Raul looks like he isn't in the moment. How about you do something to help him with that?"

"L-l-l-like what?"

"How about you give him a big wet loving kiss... ya know, right there on the lips." Alex looked over at his boss with a sad pleading look in his eyes only to be met with a vicious, evil grin. The nudist leaned in, pressing his lips to those of his buddy's, shame and disgust welling up inside of him. He squeezed his eyes shut once more, counting the seconds as they languished by. Damon, meanwhile, howled with laughter again as he watched his employees woefully lock lips. It was quite entertaining and beyond sexually stimulating to bear witness to this torrid act. His own cock wept tears of joy down his long cast-iron pole, as it too yearned for relief. The man petted the aching blight between his brutish legs, teasing it with lusty promises of surrender. What felt like an eternity passed, "ok - ok," he chuffed in between bouts of laughter, "that's enough for now. Raul, do you accept Alex's apology?" Raul rapidly nodded, holding down the sludge that was forcing its way from the inner recesses of his digestive tract. "Good, I'm glad; see, you two are such good friends. Maybe one day you'll marry each other and spend your days trying to make a kid with each other. Won't that be fun?" The nude pair grimaced and gave their boss a mournful, pitiful look. "Now, about my prick! You two should wrestle with each other to see who will have the honor of kissing it." Alex and Raul both shuddered as they turned back to face the other once more. "First, you two should get out of the tub," Damon instructed, "don't want someone to accidentally kill themselves." The pair got out of the tub, making sure that their feet were secured to the floor before they got into position to fight with one another. Alex was the first to make his move, and grabbed Raul on the shoulder, spinning the Honduran around. Alex then managed to get his friend in a headlock, using his big sinewy arms to keep the nudist tethered to his side via his elbow. Raul fought back, lightly beating against Alex's firm, strong back. The exposed Blacklister used his right arm to hammer away at his friend while using his left arm to tug on Alex's bulging bicep. Just as Raul was about to pass out, he jammed a finger into Alex's butt hole, forcing the nudist to yelp. The Ecuadorian released his captive and spun around, facing his opponent while gingerly rubbing his rectum. Raul charged at Alex, trying his best to topple the mountain of muscle to the floor, only to have his efforts thwarted when Alex dodged at the last second. The hunk grabbed his friend, not only to regain control of the situation, but also to prevent Raul from slamming into the wooden paneling. Alex then moved his arms underneath Raul's exposed genitalia and yanked hard on his buddy's reproductive system. The Honduran howled in pain as his boss cackled with delight. "Guys, guys," Damon intervened between gasps of air, "stop... stop! Ok, as fun as this is... I have a better idea. You two can stop fighting if both promise to work together in getting me off; sound fair?" Raul and Alex ceased their tussle and looked at each other before nodding and bowing their heads.They then plodded over to where their boss sat and got down on their hands and knees in front of their boss's hard, leaking rape rod.

Globs of pearly white yogurt encapsulated the penis head as they sloughed down the pulsating mass. Raul swallowed down his disgust as he looked at the malignant, rabid appendage and its unquenchable sadism. Both he and Alex then drew closer, placing their warm pink tongues onto its girthy body, flicking their tongues around like a snake seeking out its prey. Damon let out a deep, long, penetrating guttural moan as his employees' oral organs begrudgingly danced around his long pole, teasing, tempting, caressing it like an attractive, vibrant lover. Their tongues met at various points, fighting each other for controlling real-estate over their black boss's pleasure pole. Raul tried to pull away, gasping hard for fresh air, only to find his head being forced back into position and compelled to breathe in his boss's musky odor. He retched and gagged, unable to pull away from the overpowering aroma of unfettered testosterone laden masculinity.

"Mmmmmmmmlernermephgoghphhhh," Raul's words fell apart pressed against the taint between Damon's powerful thighs. Alex's words were also being snuffed out as their boss forced them to remain where they were. Every attempt they made to pull away from next to the man's insidiously large sperm factories only resulted in a tighter grasp against both of their heads. Damon bucked his hips forward banging his pelvis against both of their faces.

"Oh fuck, guys," every slam forward brought with it a potent sense of erotic delight. "You guys are so fucking good at this; really! I'm never having sex with a woman EVER- ohhh-ho!" Damon's words were interrupted by the overwhelming pleasure that came with short rapid breaths. Both men that were on the ground were now struggling to maintain consciousness. A few seconds later and Damon was forcing his rape tool into the back of Alex's mouth and down the back of the stud's throat. In and out he jammed his slut staff into Alex, causing the beefcake to gag and choke as his eyes widened with horror. Raul could only watch as his best friend was violated over and over again while the Honduran sat nearby, gulping down large swaths of air.

"MMMMMMMMHERLPHHHMEPPHHHHEEEEPHHHHH," Alex looked over at his friend with pleading eyes. His words were being muffled as his boss lodged his massive libidinous black tool down his warm, moist gullet. Raul wanted to help poor Alex... he wanted to shove Damon off his nude friend, but the fear... the fear of being forced to take Alex's place was too much for him to fight against. The naked Honduran's breathing had evened out as he could only watch his friend choke on the massive dick that was attached to their boss.

"Uhhhhh, uhhhh," Damon's pace quickened as he felt the pressure to purge growing in his loins. "That's it baby - take Big Daddy's love deep in you. Come on, come on, you are doing so well at this! I wanna - I WANNA-OH-OH-OHH!" Raul cowered with fear as Damon blasted searing hot resin down Alex's esophagus. Shadows started closing in and melting together as Alex struggled to draw in breath, gasping and wheezing only to find his boss's cock snot drowning his lungs. Seconds ticked by as the room started to spin for Alex while he did his best to plead with Raul to push his rapist away. Finally, as the last speck of light was about to be snuffed out, a mix of air and man cream rushed through his lungs as he sputtered and choked, desperate to stop himself from blacking out. Tears stung his eyes as Alex looked around, gasping for air... his boss's cream still warm and dripping in his body. Raul was curled up in a corner, his head between his legs as he whimpered and mewed. By the way he acted, Alex would've thought he was the one who had been violated. Damon grabbed his clothes after wiping Alex's saliva and mucus from his softening dick, and left the pair to deal with the fallout of the hell that they had been forced to endure. After ten minutes of choking and swallowing, Alex had managed to either take in or spit up the remnant's of Damon's spooge, clearing his air passageways of the crud. Alex staggered to the door, wanting to leave everything that had taken place behind in this torture chamber of horrors. It was a solid half an hour after Alex left before Raul was able to get up and leave the trauma behind as best as he could. Little did either realize that this would set the tone for the rest of their lives.

It had been three weeks since Raul had been in that first mandatory bathing session and things had gone from bad to worse. He had watched good friends reduced to blubbering messes, former shells of what they used to be. Men who were paramounts of masculinity were broken... shattered under the weight of being raped frequently by other men. Highly respected men that were once seen as equals were now only seen as receptacles of their clothed counterparts' sexual rage and frustrations. No Blacklister was safe and everyone was a target... game for the Non-Blacklisters to hunt, rape, sodomize and degrade. The Honduran was lucky, he had yet to have his virginity taken from him; his male purity was still intact. He was still a man despite other men around him having their masculinities taken from them by brute force alone. On more than one occasion he bore witness to the brutality of his coworkers being violently sodomized mere feet from him. Lopez's rape in the cafeteria that Monday afternoon in particular stuck with him the most. The mournful look in the twenty-five year old's eyes, the single tear, even his pleas for help shook him to his core. Everyone wanted to help each other, to stop their attackers, but were all too afraid to fight back. They each knew that if they intervened, they could be the victim instead, trussed up like turkeys on Thanksgiving day, having their holes stuffed with all sorts of things. He wasn't sure what was worse: when a Blacklister was forced to take a rigid, spiteful cock or when they had inanimate objects stuffed into their backsides. It was all some sick joke at their expense and only the Non-Blacklisters were laughing about it. To make matters worse, sexual assaults started arousing many of them. It was as if their own bodies were against them, and Raul was no exception. Every ten minutes, he would start to bone up for almost no reason at all. A simple breeze would stir his loins or even the suggestion that someone found him sexually attractive made him chub up. He would be walking along and some man would catcall him, forcing him to stiffen despite his disdain for the situation. The Honduran would then have to furiously pound his lust staff until exploding with gratitude onto the ground only to find that he would be obligated to repeat the process again minutes later. If another man wanted to suck him off, he was compelled to say yes or face horrific consequences the likes of which made his head swim in an endless ocean of nightmarish terror, not to mention the potential loss of his job. He had heard rumors of Blacklisters refusing to fall in line and how they would vanish literally overnight, with nary a trace of their existence left behind. He often wondered what became of those men who fought back and where they had gone. He had also heard rumors of those that looked into those disappearances (be they blacklisted or not), always met some grisly fate. It was as if questioning the disappearances themselves were just as bad, if not worse. As time passed, fewer and fewer questioned why this new world order existed.

His computer dinged as it indicated that a new email had been received by his inbox. He maneuvered the cursor over the flashing box in his task bar as he absent-mindedly fondled himself enlarging the window of the Outlook program. Alex had sent him an email, reminding him of one of the weekly activities that he and his peers were forced to endure: the beauty pageant. He and his blacklisted coworkers would be forced to parade around the office, striking sexually suggestive poses, all for the amusement of their non-blacklisted coworkers. He hated that; having to put his body on display for other men to ogle, judge, and sometimes molest, just so he could keep his job. The winner was voted on and usually the Blacklister that whored himself out the most, won. He never dared to entice his would-be attackers, but he would be remiss if he didn't admit to becoming sexually aroused when they hooted and hollered at him. Today was no exception; as he got up from his chair, hung his assigned number around his neck, and followed his brethren around the open air call center floor. "Shake it baby," one of the judges cried.

"Yowza," said another.

"Break me off a piece of that," came a third. Another one came up to Raul as he stood there, putting on a fake smile while tensing his arms behind his back in an effort to accentuate his masculine features.

"I am loving your cock today, Donkey Dick," the agent said as started stroking the Honduran's massive piece. Donkey Dick... a new nickname that he had been given sometime ago. It was one he hated, but it stuck regardless of his feelings. How he wished that he could get rid of it. It was so degrading: to be reduced down to a singular piece of his anatomy was awful. He wished his cock would magically shrink or better still, just disappear altogether.

Raul buckled under the sexual pleasure of his assault, "thank you sir," he moaned as the employee continued fondling him. His Latin meat perked right up as the fellow went to town, tickling and stroking on the fat tool between Raul's legs. Precum seeped from Raul's cock gash as it responded to the stimulation that made the Hispanic weak. Soon the kid started slapping it down only to watch it pop back into place with radiant delight. Raul's cock had become this youngster's new play toy, and he was gonna try every new game that came into his warped, twisted brain. The Blacklister could only moan, and pant as he kept his eyes closed, erotic sensations taking control of him. "Uhhhh-eeehhhhh, uhhhh-huuuhhhh," the new sensations started to overwhelm Raul as he was thrown head first into a torrent of libidinous desires. "Faster, pant faster," Raul begged as he started feeling things that he usually felt from playing with himself. These new sensations were different; they had come from a new source and they made him feel things that he rarely, if ever, felt. "Please sir," he swallowed, "please give me more!" It felt like an itch that was in desperate need of being scratched... a tickle that he wanted to encompass his entire naked body. The young judge then pressed his lips to the contestant, cutting off any more words that he would make. His tongue entered into Raul's mouth and before the nude Latino knew it, he was being kissed. It didn't matter, though... in fact nothing else in the entirety of the universe mattered in that moment other than the sensations that coursed through his exposed brown body. The nineteen year old continued molesting the thirty-eight year old, kneading the Blacklister's cock like bread dough at a bakery. Raul was lost in an endless labyrinth of sexual gratification, just a puppet at the mercy of someone over a decade his younger.

"Yeah that's it daddy," cooed the Non-Blacklister, "Daddy wants to win the pageant this week, doesn't he?" Raul nodded slowly, completely oblivious to the response that he was giving. "Does Daddy want to score extra points so he can win, huh? Do ya Daddy?" Again Raul nodded, never focusing on what was being said, but on feeling good in that moment. As one by one the other contestants moved on with their parade of humiliation, the Honduran stood there trapped as a hostage to his own passions. The kid laughed at the older man's inability to control his baser urges and kept on yanking on the Blacklister's chunky love rod, watching it leak as its master moaned and panted. After several minutes of choking the chicken, Raul was getting ready to pop. He could feel it all: the tingling, the pressure building... all the hallmarks of an impending orgasm. Just as he was about to shoot, the kid pulled his hand off the Latino's twitching rod and laughed as he walked away. "Stupid fucking Blacklister," the kid sneered, "you're not hot enough for an orgasm!" Raul collapsed to the floor with a thud as his knees took the bulk of the blow. He whimpered and yelped as his own cock vehemently punished him for not shooting his wad. He was just about to touch himself to release the spooge that he had built when another guy came up and started sucking on his left nipple. Pain mixed with pleasure as he was molested by another Non-Blacklister. He tried to pull the twenty-one year old off his tit, but the kid was much stronger than he appeared... or was it, he was much weaker than Raul thought himself to be? As he was ravished and molested, another Non-Blacklister snuck up behind him, with metal cuffs in hand. Before he knew what was happening, the shackles were locked in place, with his hands bound behind his back.

"What the fuck," he yelled as he spun around to see another twenty year old grinning at him like a Cheshire cat.

"Looks like someone is gonna have to beg for release today," the first one arrogantly said. "If you wanna shoot or get out of those cuffs, you're gonna have to be a good Blacklister and play nice!" The kid stuck his tongue out at his boss, knowing that suddenly he had all the power in the world. "Maybe if you ask your employees nicely, one of them will allow you to ejaculate."

"LET ME GO," Raul roared as the kid dangled the keys three inches from his nose.

"Nuh-uh-uh-uh," the sing-song nature of the words left a bad taste in the Honduran's mouth. "Not with that attitude we won't. If you want to be let out, you're gonna have to be nice."

"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!"

"Keep this up, and no one will wanna jerk off that monster you keep between your legs, comprendes?" Raul hissed and snarled at his employee for another second as the kid put the literal key to the Blacklister's relief into his pants' pocket. He thought long and hard about how he could get free. Maybe if he actually was nice and he got real close to the keyholder, he could fish it out of his pocket somehow and free himself. The idea that he would have to beg for an orgasm was beyond the pale. Something by every right he should be able to do on his own was suddenly impossible.

"FELLAS," a disembodied voice called out, "WE HAVE US A WINNER! JAMES GORDON, TAKE A BOW! YOUR YOUTH AND MUSCLES MAKE YOU THIS WEEK'S WINNER!"

"Fine," Raul begrudgingly snarled, "may I please be set free?"

"No," came the kid's response.

Raul's eyes widened, "why not? I was polite, goddamnit!"

"Yes, but you weren't sincere about it. When you can show us that you have changed, then you may be set free."

Raul huffed, "well, may I at least orgasm so I can get on with my life?"

"Again no... ask again in twenty minutes; maybe then you'll have shaped up." Raul hissed as the arrogant little prick walked away, leaving the captive fellow to wallow in his own misfortune. Raul returned to his desk, defeated, and tried his best to coordinate himself into doing his job. Try as he might, there was no viable or expedient way for him to perform even the most mundane of tasks. His cock continued to throb as pressure built in his loins. He needed to unleash his wad and with his hands locked firmly behind his back, he was left with little choice but to ask for someone to jerk him off. The naked Latino would have to find someone either incredibly nice or incredibly stupid. He quickly scanned the area, looking for someone, anyone, who'd be willing to get him off.

"Bingo," Raul thought as his eyes landed on Kyle. Kyle was your stereotypical douchebag, arrogant frat boy. Despite his muscles being bigger than his brain, he was able to not only land a job at this company, but also eke out an existence on the meager pay he was afforded. He had curly chestnut brown hair and hazel eyes that sparkled with unfounded confidence whenever he spoke. His skin was an even white tanned color, not too light, but not too dark. The frat boy was easily twenty-four years old, but was ripped from head to toe. Every gal on the floor wanted him... even the men wanted him. His biceps were as big as two bricks stacked on top of one another. Raul could see his enormous testes even through his khakis whenever he stood up too fast. His pants would strain to contain his nine inches of pure veiny masculine excitement whenever he wanted to mount a Blacklister, which happened frequently. He was a powerhouse of masculinity and acted like the arrogant prick that he looked like. Raul got up, hands still behind his back, and trotted over to where the frat douche sat. In his best pleading voice, he called out to Kyle, "hey man, listen, I really need your help with something." Raul took his massive monster and ran it along Kyle's rippling deltoids as little globs of cock snot dripped onto the kid's shirt.

"Yeah, what is it," asked Kyle, looking somewhat annoyed as he had just been interrupted while reading his favorite magazine.

"Listen man," Raul stated, "normally I wouldn't do this, but my cock just won't go down. Would you do me a favor and jerk me off?"

"Hmmmm... I don't know; what's in it for me?"

Raul was stumped. He hadn't thought of that situation occurring. He had hoped that the notion of him willingly allowing a Non-Blacklister to fondle his junk to the fella's heart's content would be enough. He mulled it over, and then came up with a solution. "I'll bend over for you, and let you have your way with me."

"Nahhhh... I can get that anytime."

"I'll spend the night with you?"

"Gonna pass on that; do you know how many people want in my bed? I mean, I can get hunks, beefcakes, and bimbos anytime."

Raul struggled as desperation filled his eyes. Never before had he had such difficulty in emptying his nuts. Most men would have leapt at the chance to have a Blacklister for the night, but with Kyle... with Kyle it was a bit harder. After all, he was correct about one thing: everyone wanted in his bed. What made Raul more special than anyone else? "You can bathe me as much as you want."

"Nope, how about you do my laundry for a month?"

"Wouldn't I have to live with you though?"

"Naw man, you just swing by my place after work or on a weekend, knock on my door, and take my laundry. I don't care how or where you clean it, just so long as it's not damaged and it's clean."

Raul rolled his eyes, "deal!" The Honduran placed his massive cock into Kyle's strong but soft hands, allowing the frat boy unlimited access to his ripened genitalia. Kyle immediately proceeded to stroke and play with the hulking meat, kneading it almost like a piece of dough at a pizzeria. As Kyle's hand playfully danced across his prick, Raul panted, begging for the sweet release that he so desperately craved. "Uhhhhh-huuuuuhhh, yeah, that's it! Ohhhh fuck - I need it so bad! Uh-he-uh-he-uh-he!" Raul thrust his man-anana into the Non-Blacklister's grasp, eyes shut, head tossed back as he faced the ceiling. Pleasure rang throughout his body while the pressure before the explosion began to mount. Minutes ticked by and Raul wished that Kyle would get his cock-sauce out of his gravy spigot sooner rather than later. The nudist could feel his crotch tingle, alerting him to what was to cum. Waves of delight crashed against his mind, lapping up his focus on the world around him. He could feel his loins stirring, churning, prepping for the explosion of delight that was soon to befall him. His body was getting ready and so was he. "OH FUCK, OH FUCK, KYLE," he cried just as he was about to ejaculate into the frat boy's hands. "I'M - I'M," a split second before he was about to pop, Kyle withdrew his hand and ceased all interaction. Raul flung his eyes open and looked down in frustration. "What the fuck," he cried, "why did you stop?"

Kyle smiled at him smugly, "you said to jack you off. You never said anything about having an orgasm."

"That was implied you little -"

"Donkey Dick," his rant was interrupted as one of his bosses called his name, "MY OFFICE - NOW!" Fear and anxiety flooded his brain, pushing out every other thought that he had. What was it that his boss wanted? What did he do to warrant such a visceral response from his manager? Terror took root as his heart raced, the dread of the unknown filling his mind with an infinite of possibilities as to why his boss would have called him in such a way. Raul staggered towards the man's office, his balls violently throbbing with unmitigated agony as they had to swallow the spooge he was about to expel. They lashed out, enraged by his negligence for having not been relieved. It was almost overwhelming, the pain was excruciating and it was threatening the Honduran by becoming worse with each step. By the time he reached the manager's office, he was buckled over with unimaginable pain. His boss sat in his chair, "please shut the door," the man instructed. Raul did his best to close the door before taking a seat at his manager's desk. "Raul, did you just prostitute yourself to another employee," his look of concern masking his irritation.

"What? No," the naked Honduran vehemently shook his head. "I would never do anything of the sort!"

"Oh, so you didn't ask Kyle Nussenbaum for a hand job in exchange for doing his laundry for an entire month?"

"Welllll... actuallllly..."

"Although the laws prohibiting prostitution have been rescinded, you still can't sell goods or services on company time or property."

"What! Non-Blacklisters ask Blacklisters all the time to have sex with them! How is that any different?"

"That's sexual extortion; it's permitted in accordance with our new sexual harassment guidelines. What you did was offer your body up in exchange for services rendered. Selling anything is not permitted on company time."

"But sir - I've been locked with my hands behind my back. I can't masturbate!"

"Be that as it may, I'm afraid that you have left me with no alternative: I'll have to write you up. Furthermore -"

"But sir -"

His boss raised his hand to silence the nudist, "furthermore, you'll have to remain locked for the remainder of your shift. Additionally, your ejaculatory privileges have been revoked until you are uncuffed. The men in the office will receive a memo to inform them of your transgression and the restrictions you now face. Don't let it happen again!"

"But Mr. Johnston, sir, what Davidson did to me is unethical and illegal! You have to let me out for my health and safety!"

"I spoke with the agent in question and he stated that he felt uncomfortable with your levels of raw machismo and unruly sexuality and that's why he cuffed you. It seems to stand to reason that until your levels drop to a much more tolerable amount that you should remain restricted. Dismissed!" Raul stood up and exited the room, hanging his head in defeat. Upon exiting the room, he felt a sudden shift in the air as he was no longer seen as a wandering hole, but as chum for an ocean packed with sharks. Every man was going to be gunning for his junk, driving him mad with passion and illicit urges for the rest of the day. From this point on he had moved out of hell and right onto the Devil's lap. For the rest of the day, sadistic men would come up to him, fondle and molest him, only to pull away at the last possible moment. It was torture... a personal hell not of his making, but one he couldn't escape none-the-less. It was three in the afternoon when he spotted her in all of her radiant magnificence: Heather, the new girl. Rumor had it that she had a thing for Blacklisters... a thing that made her want to tare off all her clothes and ride them like ponies. Raul got up to approach her, his hands still held near his ample, sumptuous buttocks.

He smiled as he approached her, "what's wrong," she asked as she spotted him in his new inauspicious condition. Heather was beautiful and buxom to say the least. Her beauty was surpassed only by her ample bosom. Locks of flowing chestnut brown hair fell from atop her head. Her perky breasts were hidden by a blue silk blouse that barely contained their voluptuousness. She wore a black pencil skirt that did little to obscure her slightly pale legs. Her feet were covered by obsidian black high-heels adorned with a singular emerald rhinestone on each one.

"Well, my boss seems to think that I messed up and to punish me, he's keeping me locked up until the end of the day."

"Ohhhh, you poor dear," she drew him in, pressing his face against her soft, fulsome chest. Raul felt better than he had all day... better than he had felt in awhile. To be this close to another woman felt amazing, even if it wasn't his wife. He could feel her warmth and tenderness flood into every part of his naked, exposed masculine form. Somewhere in the back of his mind he felt something that he was not sure of. It was something... something gnawing on him at the edge of his consciousness... something awful. He tried to ignore it and embrace the security that this woman was giving him. Then it hit him: he was becoming stiff - he was sexually aroused! She tossed him away from her loving embrace, horrified by his unyielding erection. She used her right hand to slap him squarely across the face, "you - you - pig! You ungodly animal! That's disgusting!" Her fury grew to unimaginable heights, "god, no wonder I only date women! This is the last time I ever try to be nice to your kind." With a swift knee to the groin, Raul fell to the ground as she stormed off, disgusted by his uncouth actions. He watched, wincing in pain as she left him alone, naked, and ashamed. He lay there for several moments pondering his state of existence. If his balls could really change color, he imagined that they were now the brightest, most abundant shade of sapphire blue one would ever see in their lifetime. He arose, defeated and trounced beyond all understanding, hot acid tears stinging his face as he sobbed uncontrollably. The Honduran hobbled back to his desk as others stared at him, snickering about his situation, and secretly mocking him for his inability to seduce another person, let alone a woman. For the remainder of his shift, he remained at his desk, hunched over in agony, waiting for the clock to change to five on the dot. Then as five o'clock rolled around, his boss, Mr. Johnston, exited his office, walked over to Raul's desk, and hauled him up before undoing the Latino's restraints. The second his hands were free, he rubbed his wrists as the memory of the pain from the handcuffs still lingered.

"Alright," Mr. Johnston started, "you've done your time; you're free. Just be sure to hold off on popping your delicious, tasty man batter until you're outside or I might just decide to cuff ya again; comprendes?" Raul nodded, the agony that had been tormenting for most of the day becoming increasingly maddening. The naked Honduran gathered his belongings, and made a beeline straight for the elevators. As he took the lift down to the lobby, one of the execs hopped on board and rode with him. The nudist quaked with fear as images of the man sexually assaulting him played in his mind. The elevator dinged, allowing him to step off, but not before a smack to his behind hit.

He turned around to find the exec winking at him, "has anyone ever told you that you have a nice ass," the man asked. Raul shook his head and ran out the front door, his dick twitching uncontrollably and leaking jism onto the ground. He was aroused, too aroused to not engage in a little self love. And besides, he was now technically off company property as he only stopped at the street corner... just barely off of company property, though. He sat flat on the warm concrete, casting his belongings to the side, grasping his malignant growth in the palm of his right hand. It was screaming for relief; chastising him for his gross negligence and abhorrent inability to placate to its whims. It barked and screeched as he sat there on the dirty, fractured ground. It made sure he knew that now was its time and that there were no more excuses not to play with it. Raul slid his hand up and down the rigid toy, relief washing over him, drowning him in erotic pleasure. Up and down, up and down his right hand went as left hand jiggled his nuts around, further adding to the sensations. It was as if the heavens opened up and poured magical mana into his body as he sat there giving himself the business. At the edge of this erotic dance he could barely hear some vague, unintelligible sounds... sounds he was sure he could make out, if only he wanted to. It didn't matter, in fact nothing mattered, only the delight of the moment... the unending infinity of bliss. His body hummed with ecstasy as pain had long melted away, giving rise to sheer joy and peace. It was a peace that he hadn't felt in quite awhile and perhaps one he might never know again. Hours went by as the sun fell behind the outline of the city skyscrapers, giving way to dusk and the nearly imperceptible coolness of a summer's night. Try as he might, Raul was unable to achieve his long awaited orgasm, beating his meat like a boxer in a ring. The notion of time passing barged its way into his thoughts, shoving the images of bare breasted nymphos from his lurid thoughts. He fluttered his eyes open, still pleasuring himself, looking around to the state of affairs.

Just as he was about to call it quits, a distinctly masculine voice rang out, "hey sexy, nice donkey dick. Shake what your mama gave ya!" The naked Latino spewed white hot curdled cream up into the air before arcing down onto the road's pavement. Time ground to an unimaginable crawl as his piston pumped round after round of the rotted sludge like an uncontrolled fire hose. He couldn't stop it as much as he wanted to. He felt shame in having been so easily manipulated into shooting his batter at the behest of another... a man, no less. Seconds felt like minutes, and minutes felt like hours as he purged his feted seed onto the sidewalk and asphalt beside it. It wasn't until he heard the shriek of a woman's voice did he fully realize what had happened. There, dripping with the contents of his reproductive system, stood Heather, stunned and unable to move from the spot. Rancid blobs of his rotted sauce dripped from her hair and clothes. Little chunks stained her blue silk blouse and black pencil skirt as she tried to process what had just happened. Raul's face became flushed with embarrassment as he continued to leak out the last of his aged fluids onto the concrete. He stood up, and moved closer to her only for her to be vaguely aware of his presence. She shoved him away from her, globs of his man snot flying to the ground in the process. She shook as her rage built up inside of her like Poempeii right before the eruption of mount Vesuvius. It was too late; Raul had no time to flee before she started going off.

"YOU - YOU FUCKING INGRATE! YOU SICK, DISGUSTING PIG," she raged. She rammed her high heel pump into the Honduran's now softened crotch meat repeatedly with the end of each sentence. "YOU UNHOLY ABOMINATION! HOW DARE YOU! MY GOD - IS THAT ALL YOUR KIND HAS TO OFFER? SEX? NO WONDER YOU'RE ALL IN THIS SORRY EXCUSE OF AN EXISTENCE! I'LL NEVER, EVER FEEL SORRY FOR YOUR PEOPLE EVER AGAIN! AT LEAST YOUR WOMEN HAVE SOME COMMON DECENCY! YOU MEN CAN'T KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS FOR FIVE FUCKING SECONDS!" Raul crumpled onto the pavement, a new type of pain ripping him apart like wet tissue paper. Another three swift kicks to his family jewels and she was out of sight. As Raul lay on the ground, weeping into the concrete, he couldn't help but overhear all of the acrimonious remarks made by the men who passed him by. Things like "cuck" and "loser" and "rape bait" echoed in his brain as he tried to recover from his attack. They sneered and jibed, all at his expense as the pain from his coworker's shoes continued to punish him for his transgression. Finally, after half an hour, he got up, still in pain, and headed back to his car. After all, it was either move on with his life, like always, or just remain there, stuck in the moment feeling sorry for himself. Life would continue to move on with or without him; such was the burden of the Blacklisters. As he drove home, crotch still aching from the assault, he wondered what would happen if he tried to sue her in court. He briefly imagined what it would be like to win the case against her. He would feel venerated for having struck a significant blow for the plight of Blacklisters everywhere. Letters, emails, tweets, and more would pour in from all across the country, and maybe the world, congratulating him for a job well done. Celebrities would want to be his friend and women would want to date him again. Maybe the president would give him a medal of some sort. Then reality set in... more than likely the witnesses would say he got a hard-on during the attack. They'd say it was his kink, his fetish, to be physically assaulted in public, assuming that it made it to trial to begin with. After all, isn't that how most of these sorts of things went? These incidents were seen as a point of sexual arousal and gratification for the blacklisted victim? How could he possibly win? After all, he was just another Blacklister who deserved all of this. He gets off on these kinds of behavior.

For the next several weeks Heather had it out for Raul. She would avoid him whenever possible, and always stayed at least six feet away from his desk when he was there. In the instances where he tried to apologize, she would fire back with a barrage of insults much like a gangster shooting off a Tommy Gun in a drive-by. She had placed a wall of disdain around her and there was no way for Raul to get through it. Finally he stopped trying and just went on with his life. It was mid-July when he learned two new things: 1. Jose's son would intern at the start of August. 2. Jose and Kevin were now engaged to be married. This didn't bode well for him... it didn't bode well for anyone in fact. The idea that his marriage no longer mattered flew in the face of everything that he knew to be true. Nothing really mattered; his whole world was being torn apart only to be rebuilt by the cruel and sadistic. Everyone was so easily swayed and duped, all in the name of safety and security. Everyday a Blacklister would do something to validate their false notions and beliefs. Something as innocent as buying bread had become a minefield of lurid, sexual politics and desires. Gone were the days in which he had friends who knew him and comforted him, replaced by men and their insatiable appetites. Sure Raul had other Blacklister friends, but it felt like bunkmates in an unending, unrelenting war. A war to keep his body safe from the perversions and degradations of their mutual enemies. Every morning he'd wake up wondering if today was the day he was to have his purity taken from him... his masculinity ripped to shreds like a deranged mental patient taring up construction paper in an arts and crafts activity of a psych ward. He was starting to lose his identity as not only a man, but as a human being as well. The Honduran could feel the pressure of remaining intact pressing down on him constantly as bit by bit, his masculine identity was slowly eroded away by their sick, depraved games. Just recently a new policy for all Blacklisters had been implemented when it came to low level infractions and resolving disagreements. A policy that was keen on taking a Blacklister's identity from them and humiliating them in an exceptionally absurd fashion. When Raul first got the email, he thought that it was a joke. No man would agree to this, let alone enforce this new company-wide policy. It was ridiculous, twisted, and almost laughable; the very notion of such behavior was unthinkable and quite preposterous at best. It wasn't until one of his bosses implemented it did he realize that they were, in every which way, serious. It was when Mr. Johnston had called him into his office did he find out the sincerity and the gravity of the situation. Raul had been late fifteen times in a month; ten more than what was allowed in a rolling thirty day cycle. The tardies were not entirely by choice as the nightmares and panic attacks robbed him of his sleep. In doing so, he was forced to sleep in and miss his alarm by fifteen to thirty minutes. This obviously did not sit well with the higher-ups who were now gunning to replace him with someone more obedient. Seeing as how they had let it slide for so long, this was to be his first write-up and first disciplinary action implemented.

Raul walked into his boss's office, unsure of what was to come. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Johnston," he asked, doing his best to hide his anxiety from the man. Mr. Johnston, shut the door before seating himself in his new office chair.

"Donkey Dick," he was calm, cool, and collected as if this were any other normal event. "I called you in here because of a grave concern that we here have noticed. A concern in which you, yourself, have created."

"I'm not sure what you mean," the nudist fidgeted in his chair.

"I think you do; in fact I'm certain that you are keenly aware of the behavior that has led to this meeting."

"You mean my tardiness?"

"Indeed I do," Mr. Johnston leaned back in his chair as he continued on. He was five feet and eight inches of pure manliness behind the gray business suit he wore. His hair was a dark wood coiffed brown and had just started showing the early signs of thinning on top. A sharp Roman nose sat center of his face and above two thin pink lips. His eyes were a warm hazel and despite all appearances, sparkled with a youthful exuberance of their own. Although he wasn't meaty, he did have a tough muscular frame that said he worked out by running and doing some weightlifting. A red necktie hung over his pleated bleach white dress shirt. Mr. Johnston's gray dress slacks hid a beer bottle fat twelve inches of pure masculine fun from the world. Finally, a pair of brown leather dress shoes covered his large manly feet. "You have been tardy a total of no less than fifteen times in a rolling month. Do you have anything to say about this in your defense?"

"Well sir, I've been plagued with nightmares and panic attacks about what might happen to me as a Blacklister. Every night, or rather nearly every night, I wake up in a hot sweat, sometimes not remembering what triggered them. My wife kicked me out of our bed, leaving me to sleep on the couch. She said that I kick her in her sleep or sometimes even punch her awake. It was intolerable to her, and thus she forced me from the bed that we shared for a good portion of the past five years. She thought that it would be easier on her, but I'm now calling out loudly in my sleep."

"So how does any of this relate to your situation of being tardy?" A look of annoyance and boredom rolled across Mr. Johnston's face as he awaited the reply to his query.

"Well, sometimes I stay awake after a nightmare ends or she wakes me up to stop me from yelling too loud. I'll lay in bed for hours trying to fall back asleep only to sleep through my alarm clock going off, after I finally do fall back asleep."

"So, why doesn't she just get you up before she leaves for work?"

"Sometimes she will, but most times our daughter takes up too much of her attention and she forgets. I've tried explaining that I need to get up to go to work on time, but she counters with," Raul made air quotes, "I have too many other things to worry about."

"Be that as it may, it still doesn't excuse your tardiness. Ultimately you are responsible for arriving at work on time. You are being paid to perform a job, a service, that is a part of our society. If you have trouble with one alarm, set more than one. If you are having nightmares about this job, find another. If you don't want to be seen as anything other than a hot piece of ass, be less of a smoking hot Blacklister or better still, don't be a Blacklister. These are your problems, you fix them. Now seeing as how this is your first offense on this subject, you will receive a verbal warning, a document indicating that this is a verbal warning, and the appropriate punishment." He handed Raul the appropriate document and watched as the nudist signed his acknowledgment for having received it. Raul took the pen to paper and placed his full name on the signature line along with the date. "Excellent, I'm glad that we can work on improving your aberrant behavior. Now, as for punishment, you will have to come around to my side of the desk.

"What? Why?"

"My side of the desk please. Don't make me lose my temper." Raul begrudgingly rose to his feet and did as he was told to do. Standing in front of Mr. Johnston, he awaited further instructions as the man wheeled himself in front of Raul's crotch. "Now, lie down please," the order was vague and indiscernible.

"Where? Where can I possibly lie down? There's no room."

Mr. Johnston slapped his professionally stylish legs, "on my lap of course." Sensing hesitation on his employee's part, he formulated a response, "you either do it, or you'll be fired." Raul laid down on top of Mr. Jonston's gray slacks, his legs hanging off the side as his torso was partially suspended in mid air. He felt humiliated; he felt like a five year old that had been caught going through his dad's liquor cabinet. His identity as an adult male was once more being attacked, and he felt powerless to stop it. Raul gulped down a puff of air as he mentally prepared for what was to come next. A loud slapping sound as his boss's hand made contact with his bare behind echoed throughout the room. The Honduran felt the sting of skin-to-skin contact as his boss slapped his backside once more. Another smack, and the stinging sensation grew a little more. With each lash to his bare behind, the pain from the previous blow increased bit by degrading bit. "Bad boy," Johnston snarled, "this is what you get when you fuck up. Daddy doesn't like whipping bad boys, but he'll do it when he has to. Now are you gonna be good? Huh Donkey Dick? You gonna be good?" Raul struggled to break free of his boss's grasp, but ended up only angering him further. "Bad boys who don't take their punishment get more swats to their keyster!" A few more slaps and Raul's ass felt like someone had set it on fire. His cheeks burned as little cuts from Mr. Johnston's class ring oozed out from his damaged rear. The intensity of pain had increased, forcing him to break down into tears. He whimpered and sobbed as his boss continued spanking him. "If you don't fuck up anymore, Daddy won't have to spank his boy!" Raul sniveled as he just lay there taking blow after blow to his bare butt. "Look at those," Johnston's focus shifted to another part of his naked employee's body. "My, my, those are quite the pair, aren't they? No wonder the other boys like you so much. If I had testes that huge, I'd walk around naked all the time, too. Let's see what happens when I smack them, shall we?" Johnston's meaty paw dropped a little lower before swatting Raul's massive cojones. The pain shifted and grew to unimaginable heights as now his reproductive glands were under attack. The Honduran yelped with each wicked, vile lash he received. Every slap against his cum heavy, swollen gonads was worse than the last. The harder he squirmed, the harder his boss spanked his caramel brown flesh sack. "Are you sorry boy? Answer me," his boss growled.

Raul nodded his head, "yes sir; sorry sir!"

"Sorry for what?"

"Sorry for being late, sir," Raul forced out through his many tears.

"Ok," Johnston stopped spanking the thirty-eight year old Blacklister, affording him the opportunity to stand back up. "I believe you; you're sorry. Just don't let it happen again, ok?" Raul nodded again as the tears flowed down his face. "Now, sit on Daddy's lap and he'll make you feel better." The nude Honduran got up and repositioned himself so that he was sitting on his forty-fiveu year old boss's lap like a little boy. Mr. Johnston reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a round orange tin can with the words "Samuel's Salve" printed in black letters on top of the lid. He pulled it apart and placed a glob of the goop on his index and middle fingers. He rubbed the compound along Raul's tender, burning cheeks as he cooed into the nudist's ear. "There, there, Daddy will make it all better. See? The salve makes it all better." Raul sat there on his boss's lap, still reeling from the humiliation of having been spanked. "See? All better... and what's this," Johnston's tones shifted from sing-song to that of fake, sarcastic, surprise. "Someone's big ol' chubby needs love, doesn't it?" Raul's boss leaned in, softly kissing his neck as he wrapped his palm around the Latino's stiffy. "Now, let's play with Donkey Dick's donkey dick until it releases his joy all over the place." Raul was ready to get up and leave until his boss started stroking his Honduran love slave. Pain melted away into pleasure as his boss placed his lips firmly onto his right nipple, running his hand up and down his thick, untamed beast. The nudist could do nothing but moan and groan as erotic bliss tried to overtake most of the pain that he felt. Up and down Mr. Johnston's hand went as he gnawed at Raul's delicate nipple, sucking down the man's salty, spicy flavours. Raul was in an almost perfect heaven as the pain and humiliation of earlier was all but a forgotten memory. Sure his butt stung, but it was almost nothing compared to the tingling delight of having his fat pricked milked for his and his boss's enjoyment.

"Ohhh-hhhhooo," Raul moaned as the other man used his hand to make sweet tender love to his raging beast. Johnston looked down at the oozing, gaping singular eye of the surly, livid monster, his own pants tightening as he sat there. It kept on leaking out its hateful, venomous vitriol as it looked at its tamer right in the face as if to say, "you can't fucking control me! I'm wild and untameable! I'm a free man!" Instead of lashing out against the creature's rigid disdain, he petted and soothed it with tender merciful care. Finally, the pressure that had been mounting in Raul's loins had become too much. The creature spat its acid directly up at its tamer, repeatedly striking Mr. Johnston all over his face. Round after round shot upwards, blinding the man temporarily while he held onto his employee and petting his viper. After three minutes and several rounds of its wicked venom, the creature wilted and returned to its submissive state. Thick globs of salsa blanca dripped from Mr. Johnston's face as he yanked various drawers open, searching for a cloth to wipe himself with. Finally he found one and removed the remnant's of Raul's delight, as the Honduran basked in the warm afterglow of the orgasm. Raul giggled, "sorry about that Mr. Johnston."

Mr. Johnston spat and sputtered, "that's OK my boy... that's perfectly OK. I appreciate the gusto and the candidness of your performance." The suited man wiped little bits of the Latino's goop and licked them from his hands. "Mmmmm... tasty! Now if you've learned your lesson and feel a bit better, you can take your leave. I have work to do and so do you. Just remember, don't be late!" Raul got up, moving slowly as his buns still stung despite having been dulled immensely by the salve treatment that was administered by his boss. For the rest of the day he found it quite difficult to remain seated at his desk. He wasn't sure which was worse: the actual spanking he had received or all the whispering and hushed giggles at his expense. Either way, he was most certainly not going to be late ever again. Only a single thought comforted him as he clung desperately to the last remaining shred of dignity: at least he wasn't raped.

Two days later and the stinging had finally stopped, allowing him to sit down and do his job more efficiently. It was coaching day; the one day a week specifically designed to allow him one-on-ones with his agents. Some of them were blacklisted and some weren't. Most of them weren't super attracted to him despite the abundant blessings between his legs. There were a few who'd get bored and start fondling his genitals as he talked to them about their performance over the past seven days. One kid stood out above all the others... one who seemed to unnerve him the most. His name was Roman Mendez and he was eighteen. It wasn't that the kid was ripped beyond compare with veiny biceps the size of U.S. footballs which drove men mad with lust. Nor was it that his obsidian black hair was a mop top that only accented his cherubic facial features, giving him a pure wholesome angelic look. These features did little to offset his macho, confident alpha male status that he constantly radiated with every single moment. It also wasn't the two bulging pectoral muscles that looked to have been carved from cinnamon brown marble and then dotted with two tiny, soft, nipples the size of pennies. Hell, it wasn't the fact that the kid had abs for days that were highlighted by a distinctive V-shape which drew one's eye down to the bushy, but well maintained obsidian bramble. It even wasn't the eleven inches of pure machismo that was as thick as a beer bottle with a mushroom-like cap overshadowing his two corpulent cum laden testicles swinging pendulously between his legs. His legs, by the way, were proportionally as big and veiny as his arms were that held up two round, juicy balloon sized butt cheeks, that barely jiggled as he walked. No, none of those things are what unnerved Raul at all. The thing that unnerved Raul was the fact that the kid was constantly and consistently whacking it... almost at all times. Roman loved cum tagging; it wasn't just his favorite hobby, it was a way of life for him. He shot his wad on desks, on chairs, on door knobs... it didn't matter. The only thing he wouldn't shoot his spooge on were the PCs that people used, most likely to avoid paying for the damages. He did, however, shoot onto the desk phones. The kid was a literal cum factory and business was always booming it seemed! He never really stopped stroking it; he'd sit on the phones, talking to customers with cock grasped firmly in hand sliding up and down his fat, smooth pole, cranking round after mind blowing round of young, testosterone soaked spooge across his desk. Raul even caught him on more than one occasion cum tagging a coworker. The other guy was sitting beside him on a call, and Roman stood up, and just blasted the right side of the poor fellow's head. The guy had Raul's load dripping down the side of the face for an hour before he was able to clean it off. Roman got a good laugh out of that one. Raul felt really uncomfortable coaching the kid as he would sit there, and have an entire conversation while his hand furiously flew up and down his tool. He was talented in that regard as he was able to converse, stroke himself, shoot a few loads, and NEVER miss a beat the entire time. Raul didn't know how someone could produce so much jizz and often wondered if Roman was even human. Still, it was the supervisor's duty to speak with every agent on their team and Raul was no exception.

Raul walked over to where Roman sat, his genitals swinging pendulously between his legs, and tapped the alpha pup on the shoulder. Roman had his right hand firmly attached to his rigid pole, violently beating it into a submission that might never happen. Up and down his hand flew, bashing his flesh vigorously as he relished in the self love he was giving himself. Roman looked up at him, "yeah brah, what up," his hand still bouncing up and down.

"Come on," Raul urged the lad into following him, "coaching session." Roman's cock pulsed as his hand sped up, he started whimpering as several blasts of jism rang out from his love staff hitting the carpet. As the last little bits drooled from his swollen member, the lad stood up and followed his supervisor. The young Latino found it to his advantage to allow his erection to sway to and fro as he walked around, the sounds of his meat slapping against his taut masculine form drew him a lot of attention that he loved. Raul, along with Roman, sat down at the supervisor's desk, their spooge swollen sacks grazing the soft fluffy cushions, sending pleasure bolting through both of their bodies. Whereas Raul ignored his mounting erection, Roman eagerly engaged with another round of furious self-lovemaking. Raul tried to tune out the sounds of his employee stroking himself as he started the session. "So how are you," he awkwardly asked the masturbating young hunk.

"Same ol', same ol', dude," Roman made a level of eye contact that didn't sit too well with Raul. It wasn't the eye contact itself, so much as it was the activity the alpha pup was performing so coolly. It was if Roman was just sitting there like this was some normal everyday thing... and in a way, it was. Public sex was slowly becoming a normal, everyday occurrence, bit by bit. The naked youth was embracing it sooner than Raul was. Roman's breathing hastened as a long, high-pitched moan escaped his lips. Searing hot resin exploded from the tip of his fat penis, decorating Raul's chair and carpet section with young fresh cock-snot. Thirty seconds and three ounces later, the naked youth had finished his purge. "Oh dude, sorry man... I guess that I just can't control myself when it comes to hotties like you."

"Thanks, but I'm straight"

"Yeah, we're all straight until we see a hard, wet dick, man. So anyway, what up, brah?"

"Well, I wanna discuss your performance for the past week. Let's take a look at your surveys, shall we?" Roman nodded, hand still sliding up and down his yogurt slinger. Raul continued, "every one of your surveys came back with a hundred percent on each of them. You got the usual comments from what are most likely men: 'he sounds so hot,' 'what's his home number,' '100 out of fourteen,' 'is he single.' As always, you are quite popular. How about we listen to one of your calls, shall we?" Roman nodded as he happily continued unabated with his five knuckle shuffle. Raul handed him a pair of earbuds before putting in a pair himself as they both prepared to listen.

"Thanks for calling the Homeland Banking call center. My name's Roman, how may I help you," Roman's voice came through the buds crisp and clear, as though it was happening in real time.

"Yeah, my name's Terry Mullighan, and I received a text notification about $467.83 that I don't recall. Could you please assist me with that," the caller's voice wasn't too deep, but still had a distinct masculine tone to it.

"Sure, brah," came Roman's voice, "let's see what I can do for ya, man. Oh, Oh, OH FUCK - YESSSSS! THAT'S IT BRAH! ALL OVER THE PLACE!"

"What just happened? Are you ok?"

"Yeah man, I just shot my wad under my desk."

"Wow, that's hot! Now, about my transaction..."

"Hold on man, I - I just gotta, gotta - Uh-he-uh-he-uh-he! Ohhhh yeah man - it's cumming out! Oh fuck!"

"Jeez, kid, you are one horny beast, aren't ya? I mean how many times do you shoot?"

"I-D-K man, I lose count after fifteen or so. So, let's get your card number." As the caller rattled off his number, a soft tapping sound could be heard as Roman keyed in the numbers via the PC's keyboard. "For accuracy purposes may I have your name, please," Roman huffed a bit as the distinct sounds of skin slapping skin could be heard in the background.

"Uhhhh... Terry, Terry Mullighan..."

"Date of birth," more slapping sounds coupled with heavy breathing.

"Four, twelve, 1973..."

"And address on file, please."

"1313 Willoughby Place, Boise Idaho, 94183."

"Thank you so much Mr. Mullighan," Roman started moaning into the mic, "oh, oh, uh-huh, that's i-i-i-it! Fuck me dude!"

"Damn kid, do you ever stop?"

"Only when I'm asleep," by this point in the recording, Raul's own flesh wand had begun to leak. He had been doing his best until now, but the sounds Roman made on the call were beginning to gnaw at his mind. The idea of popping out a fresh batch was starting to look more and more enticing with each minute that passed. The supervisor looked over at his cum soaked agent who's fresh drippings fell carelessly onto the chair and ground. The kid flexed his bulky left arm as a woman passed by, making a kissing face as she rolled her eyes at him. A few seconds later, and his expression was once again of pure ecstasy as he released his fluids on the jizz soaked floor. A large puddle had formed a few feet away indicating that he had been jerking off while listening to the call. Roman never really stopped nor did he care about the consequences of his actions. The only things that mattered to him were being hot and spilling his seed. Raul looked into the singular, hateful eye of the kid's monster as it snarled large blobs of bilious contempt and disdain at its viewer. The thing seethed with detestable, loathsome bile, threatening the man with a look of unmitigated gall. Raul wasn't sure if the thing would lunge at him or just sit there and spew its hot, torrid venom onto his face. "Uh-huh, uh-huh," Roman unleashed his crotch creature's malice once again, spraying his supervisor up into his face as Roman threw his head back. After about forty-five seconds and three ounces later, the alpha pup had finished his latest purge, relaxing briefly in the afterglow. Raul wiped the sauce from his face using some kleenex that he kept in one of his desk drawers. "Sorry brah, but ya gotta shoot when ya gotta shoot," Roman half-heartedly smiled as he watched his boss finish cleaning himself off. Raul rewound the recording so as to pick up where they both left off. "Even during my workouts, I'll stop every so often to pump out a fresh load."

"Nicccccee... your husband must be very happy."

"Naw man, I'm still single. I'm waiting for Mr. Right, ya know?"

"Yeah, I bet you are super popular."

"Yeah, everyone wants me! For now, I'm just happy to play the field and get as much ass as I want."

"Really? How much action do you get?"

"Well, I own all the dads in my neighborhood. They love the fact that I do anal when their frigid bitch wives won't put out. They suck me off and in exchange I let them plow me as hard as they want. Occasionally, they even buy me gifts. This one time a dad bought me a new Playstation after I casually mentioned mine wasn't turning on anymore. One of my frat brahs had spilled beer on it that morning. It's so fucking awesome!"

"Sounds great; now about this transaction..."

"Sha-sha-suuuuurrrrrreeee - oh fuck - OH FUCK, YES, HERE IT CUMS - UHHHHH-HUUUUUHHH! All over my desk, dude! Fuck - that feels so fuckin' good brah!"

"Fuck kid, now you're turning me on... shit!"

"Yeah dude, when you gotta blow, you gotta blow! Ya know?"

"Yeah... I love rapin' Blacklisters whenever I get turned on."

"Fuck yeah! Sex rules! Now, let me see... I see the transaction here on my screen. It says that it came from Amazon, brah. So do you remember buying anything from Amazon?"

"Yeah, now that I think about it, my new tablet was around that price. I got it on sale; it was a helluva deal. I thought that they got those funds a week ago."

Roman's voice had calmed down again, "it looks like there may have been a problem with their system. You, you, you - uhhhh-hhhuuuhh - may want to give them a call, brah."

"Thanks, I'll do that, just as soon as we both get off."

"I'm re-re-ready to get off if you are brah."

"Sure, but I'm just gonna listen to you go at it."

"Oh fuck yeah, brah! Here it cuuuuuu-huuhhhhhhh-ah yeah!"

"Thanks for your help and thanks for the good time."

"Sure thing dude; call back anytime."

"Oh, I will!"

"Don't forget about the email survey."

"Yeah, definitely; top marks all around!"

"Thanks brah, you have a good day; bye!"

"You do the same," and with that the recording ended.

"So, tell me, do you think you could've done anything better," Raul asked the young agent. Roman had shot another three rounds in the time it had been since the last female walked by. His whole chair was now soaked with his sopping spooge, little droplets falling to the ground.

Roman looked up at his boss as his hand passionately bounced up and down, "naw brah; he was happy, I was happy... everyone was happy."

"Well, yeah, but you could've... could've..." Raul choked on his words as the alpha pup kept smashing himself. "Do-do you mind," Raul whispered, "I don't wanna be raped right now."

"Hard pass on that brah. I need - need - oh, Oh, OH FUCK - JESUS IN HEAVEN - FUCK!" Thick ropes of dick snot rocketed up and over Roman's red backwards baseball cap, and landed three feet away from them near the entrance to Damon Jones's office. Raul shuddered; every week Damon would pull him and Alex into the washroom, and make them bathe each other while he recorded the whole thing. Occasionally, Damon would make them bathe him as well. It was sickening how he derived so much pleasure from their humiliation. Luckily, Mr. Jones was in a meeting at the moment or he might have made Raul and Roman beat off for him. Raul heard about the kinds of meetings that were typical for a Blacklister from Jose. It would start out with the men talking about whatever business they needed to discuss before turning on the Blacklister(s) in the room and raping them. Sometimes they were forced to do hideously disgusting, perverse acts on one another, all for the amusement of the Non-Blacklisters. One time, Jose was forced to dance on the conference table while the men took turns shocking his genitals with electrodes that had been attached to his genitalia. They howled with laughter as they mocked him for the boner he was forced into producing. Jose was in so much pain, he could barely drag himself to his office so he could recover. "So," Roman's voice cut through his supervisor's thoughts like a knife through butter. "Is that it or is - is - oh fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Roman shot again and again as cock-snot arced over his head again while he furiously pounded on himself. Jism rained down onto Roman's ball cap and torso while the carpet was soaked in his bull sauce. "As I was saying," Roman started again, hand still sliding up and down his fat pole, "is there anything else?"

"No... no, I think that's it."

"Ok, cool," Roman stood up and remained there for a minute as he continued pleasuring himself. Finally, he erupted once more, this time pumping his load onto his supervisor's bald scalp. As the last little bits poured out onto Raul's head, the naked Honduran wondered if things would stay like this forever. "Ha ha," Roman chuckled, "one for the road. Now maybe you'll get some action. You look like you need it." Roman walked off towards Mr. Johnston's door, his rigid dick slapping against his shredded abs. He stopped by the door handle, pleasured himself for another twenty seconds, and shot a load onto the door handle before heading back to his desk. Raul was worried that the kid's antics might attract the wrong kind of attention to himself. The kind of attention that Raul hated; the kind that led to suffering. Still, there was nothing he could do or say that could stop the young Blacklister from doing whatever he wanted. The laws were quite clear: public sexual behavior is to be permitted at all times. It was his right to jerk off in full view of everyone and to cum tag anything that wouldn't break by such a habit.

It was Wednesday, August 1st, 2018, and Jose's son was starting his internship with the company. The Honduran had gotten a message from his wife indicating that she would meet him later so they could hang out while she ate lunch. Raul sat at the same table that he, and the other Blacklisters he knew, sat at like always. Rocky, Ali, Juan, and Isileli were already seated when Raul sat down to join them. It wasn't long before he heard the sounds of passionate love making from the other side of the lunch room ring out. Two men, a Blacklister and Non-Blacklister, were busy going at it like two rabbits in heat. Over and over the Non-Blacklister slammed into the young Blacklister, who only begged for more. Raul became nervous as he looked around the room, hoping that no one else would become aroused and force his way onto him or his buddies. It was Raul's turn to get the shakes for the team, as they felt it perilous for them all to go at the same time. Luckily, business was slow at that moment as they had arrived right before the lunch crush. There was only a single Non-Blacklister in line and he looked as though he was getting ready to leave. Just as Raul got into the man's view, the clothed fellow turned and pinned the naked Honduran against the wall. The man leaned in, grabbing Raul's soft genitals, and hissed into his ear, "you smell so good. I could rape you right now and they'd applaud me as a hero. Never forget your place, sex toy!" The man clamped down hard onto Raul's sausage and eggs, forcing pain to scurry throughout the nudist's body. Raul yelped as a single tear fell from his face, the man licking the drop off his brown tawdry skin. "Mmmmm," the man snarled, "Blacklister tears are so... delicious." Raul quivered as fear inserted itself into his mind, mixing with the pain in a dance of tormented suffering. The naked Latino panted as his breath quickened; any attempt to break himself free of the evil man's grasp only came with increasing agony. The man chuckled at his victim's misery as he watched Raul squirm against his firm hold on the Blacklister's genitals. After a full minute, his attacker let Raul go and finished paying for his meal before leaving. Raul used every ounce of willpower in him to keep from collapsing to the ground. A moment later and he was forcing himself to obtain the needed nutrients for his entourage. The pain slowly lessened little by little as he trudged through the cafeteria and back to the dining booth, shuttling the drinks to where the group sat. The Honduran sat down with the tray, allowed his group to get their drinks, and they started consuming the beverages as fast as they could.

Jose and a young male sat down after a few minutes to join them in the consumption of meal shakes. After a brief introduction, Raul learned that it was Jose's son that was with him, the one who was starting his internship today. While the group consumed their drinks, the guys would take turns monitoring potential attackers. The naked Honduran spied him as he got up and left the lunchroom: his aggressor from earlier. The man hadn't noticed Raul and that was probably for the best after what had happened. Raul wasn't sure if the man's threat was valid or idle; did he want to bend the Blacklister over and sodomize him repeatedly until his swollen male sack was completely empty? Did he say all of that just to strike fear into his heart? Just then, something jerked him back to reality; someone was coming. He felt the hairs on the back of his head rise as goosebumps pricked his skin. Panic set in as the familiar gate came closer and closer. Raul looked up; it was all he could do to stop himself from running and screaming. It was Kevin - Jose's personal rapist; ever since the day he found that the laws had changed, Kevin took delight in forcing himself upon every single Blacklister in the company. He had heard rumors of his perversions and sadism. The things that he forced Blacklisters into doing, hunting them out of boredom, taking their virginities; each and every one of them was his target. Jose, however, was his favorite target when it came to tormenting. One story, the most prominent one, was that Kevin regularly raped Jose out of revenge for nearly getting the fiery redhead terminated from the company. Kevin had been with Homeland Banking for a few years when Jose listened to one of his calls and decided that he had fucked up royally, or near royally. He was going to terminate Kevin's contract and start looking for a replacement. Luckily for Kevin, the CEO also listened to the call on a whim and decided to back Kevin's side of events. Ever since then, Kevin has been plotting a means of revenge and when the Blacklist Laws came into effect, he seized the opportunity to turn Jose's life into a living hell. The fact that the Mexican was attractive and thus was the target of frequent sexual harassment situations was just icing on the proverbial cake.

Kevin grabbed a chair, and forced Raul off to the side who had been in a chair himself. The two of them were at the edge of the table, Raul on the left, Kevin on the right. The redhead eyed the nude Honduran before turning his attention to the rest of the group. "So, who's the twink," Kevin finally acknowledged the new Blacklister at the table of six.

"Huh - hi," Ricky stuttered, star struck by the new fellow that had joined them. "IIIIIII-UHHHHH I'm Ricky Morales!"

"Oh," Kevin was genuinely surprised for once. "Any relation to my boy toy Jose here?"

"Ya-yeah - yes, I'm his son!"

"Really? Wow - the hot apple doesn't fall far from the sexy tree! You, my fellow, are looking at your future step-father."

"Huh?"

Jose intervened, "Ricky this is my rapist, Kevin. He's under the delusion that we're going to get married."

"Really? Does Mom know about that?"

"No, 'cause it's never going to happen," Jose's rage broiled over as he strained to maintain control of himself.

"Actually," the redheaded Non-Blacklister interjected, "it is going to happen. I'm just trying to find a venue for the ceremony with a place for the reception. Your father will offer to pay for everything."

"The fuck I will!"

"We'll discuss it later babe; meanwhile I can't believe that Jose had such a sexy son. Where have you been hiding?"

"I've been in high school until a few months ago."

"Oh? So you just turned eighteen recently?"

"Yeah - ju-just two weeks ago. I wanna find a guy to take my virginity."

"Eighteen, Mexican, and a sex crazed naked virgin... nice."

"Would you please pop my cherry? Please? I fucking worship redheads!"

"No," Jose protested, "don't defile my son, please Kevin. I promise I'll marry you, just don't rape my son."

"Well with credentials like that and the recommendation from your father, I guess I have no choice."

"Really," Ricky's elation grew, "so you'll fuck me?"

"I'll do you one better; how about we get married too. If you're half the lay your father is, I'll wanna snatch that up before another man gets it."

"Oh wow - my first fuck and a marriage proposal! Mom will be so happy!"

"Yeah, we'll wait until the wedding night and everything."

"Ohhhh that's so romantic, right Dad?"

Raul's heart pounded in his chest as he listened to the entire exchange. The nude Honduran began to wonder if anyone was really safe from this demon. Is there no limit to a Non-Blacklister's sadism and perversions? He spent the next few moments pondering his state of existence in regards to being blacklisted. It wasn't until Jose, Kevin, and Ricky walked away did he realize that so much time had passed. He came out of his contemplation and discovered that he had forgotten his neck wallet. He decided it best to return to his desk to collect it. "Excuse me muchachos," the Honduran Blacklister said as he stood up, "I need to grab my neck wallet from upstairs."

"Alright man," came Ali's response, "just be careful. Remember, be aware of your surroundings at all times and if you can... run!"

"Yeah, yeah I will; thanks man." Raul shook Ali's hand before walking away. He knew that there was little that he could do - or any of them could do - to prevent from being raped. A Blacklister could take every precaution that they were afforded and still fall victim to a Non-Blacklister's overwhelming sexual urges. Raul walked through the adjoining lobby area, his genitals swaying side to side while making slapping sounds with nearly every step that he made. Halfway through his journey, he took a brief respite to check his surroundings for signs of a pending attack. The grand staircase stood in the center of the floor, connecting a half upper level with the marble ground. The walls to his right were bare while the floor-length windows to his left were void of any immediate approaching traffic. A few people traveling the half-filled upper level and the clinking of the chandelier from the a/c being turned on could be heard. The only other sound was the fapping of the blacklisted security guard from behind the desk. Raul continued on towards the security gate, safe in the knowledge that he was free from being sexually violated. As he swiped his badge across the electronic security gates, he took note of the token day shift blacklisted security guard furiously pumping his own big cock. It looked like so much fun, just sitting there all day, jerking off as much as one could desire; not a care in the world other than what joy the next orgasm would bring. He then shook his head, "it's guys like him who validate these awful laws." The Honduran tapped the button summoning the elevator to the ground floor, his cock stiffening at the idea of masturbating constantly and freely. Suddenly he felt a force slam him up against the wall, knocking the wind briefly out of him while someone grabbed his arms, twisting them behind his back. "What the fuck," he called out to whoever was pressing him against the glossy beige stone walls after he got air back into his lungs. "Who... who did that?" He could feel the icy cold of the indifferent stone pressing against his warm, soft, sweet flesh. He struggled to free himself, "let me go... let me go! I'll fuckin kill you!"

"No you won't," the words flooded his ear canals like a sinister snake sliding through the grass. The naked thirty-eight year old Honduran's heart rocketed into overdrive as he recognized the voice: Kevin.

"Oh, what the fuck man? Huh? What do you want with me?"

"The same thing that I always want from every other Blacklister: that tight Latin ass! And dammmmnnn, yours is so big and fluffy."

"I thought you only wanted Jose," Raul tried to argue.

"I never said anything like that, all I said was that I want him to be my number one and for his son to be number two. I'll still play with the rest of you."

"Oh fuck man, please don't do this! I'm begging you! If my wife finds me with a man, she'll leave me - I'll be ruined! Don't do this, please!"

"Oh, poor sexy Blacklister, don't worry... I'll still love you. I'll fill you up with my affections." Kevin popped his the button of seat belt fashioned pants belt as the doors to the lift pinged.

"She could be here any second... I thought she wasn't going to show, but I need to check my phone!"

"Good; once she sees you as you really are, then you can live free and take all the dicks you like! You'll become a fucking cock whore... living your days strung out on the penises of other men! You'll be able to indulge all of your cock cravings and fantasies."

"Why are you doing this? What did we ever do to you?"

"You were born hot! Maybe if you weren't such a sexy Blacklister all the time, none of us would want you. Did you ever think of that? Huh - did you? Then again Blacklisters are by default attractive... it's in y'all's genes!" Kevin popped the top button, unzipped his fly and allowed his pants to fall to the floor. He never bothered wearing underwear anymore as that would just slow him down. Plus, he loved how the denim caressed his cock, aggravating it to no end. Raul could feel the man's stiff wickedness pressed against his jiggly ass cheeks.

"No, please no," the nude Latino begged as Kevin swiped his dick side to side against the Blacklister's vulnerable cheeks. The rapist was still searching for an entry point giving Raul time to think... to plan... to make a break for it. He could try one last time to free himself and run by pushing his legs back and knocking his attacker off balance. Just as he was preparing to give it one last go by mustering up all his might, his attacker's dick tore into him. Raul screamed as he felt his insides being shredded. Rectal tissue tried to mount a resistance against the full force of the assault only to be butchered and mangled by the loathsome, indifferent brute. It did what its master commanded it to do and it didn't care what happened or who it injured. Kevin snarled with erotic beastly delight, forcing his way deeper and deeper into the nude man's guts. "OH FUCK - OH FUCK! HE'S SO FUCKING HUGE! HE'S RIPPING ME APART! OH GOD - IT HURTS SO MUCH! HE'S SODOMIZING ME! PLEASE HEL - AHHH-HAHA!" No one came, no one cared, the only thing that visited him was torrential pain. Kevin maneuvered his big victim over to the electronic gate that was attached to the security guards' desk, putting Raul at a ninety degree angle so everyone could see his misery. Kevin laughed as he finished with the initial penetration of the Honduran before taring his cock back out. A little trail of broken tissue and blood splatters that had fallen upon the cold marble marked the path rapist and victim had both taken to where they stood now. Other Blacklisters from Raul's table hurried by, hoping... praying that they wouldn't be next. Raul opened his eyes as hot tears stinged and blurred his vision in an effort to see who else was there. He looked up as more of his blacklisted coworkers passed by, mouthing the words help me as shrieks continued to escape from his lips. The other Blacklisters ignored Raul's pleas and continued on their merry way thankful that it wasn't one of them that was bent over and being gutted like a trout on a hot summer's day. Kevin thrust repeatedly into the Latino's broken backside snarling and hissing obscenities while blaming his victim for forcing him to do this.

Just when things couldn't get any worse, Raul's wife strolled up, her face contorted into an expression of disbelief, horror, and disappointment at what she saw. There, against the pristine stone lay her husband with another man's bare, unlubed genitals buried in her husband's backside. She slapped him; "maricon," she cried before walking away leaving her husband to the merciless, ruthless man he was being forced to take into him. Raul screamed out again as Kevin rammed his love pole into his romance cavern, unable to process what had just taken place. He knew that his wife had seen the sodomy in progress, and had slapped him, but he was unable to focus past the agony of his brutal torture. Kevin's pace quickened: the time was growing closer to the grand finale and he wanted to make a huge splash.

Raul, almost on queue, resumed his begging, "AHHHH-HAHH, STOP RAPING ME! OH GOD IT HURTS - IT HURTS! PLEASE - STOP SODOMIZING ME!"

Then, like a gift on high, Kevin flooded the Latino's gaping back maw with sticky love fluid, sending shivers throughout his Non-Blacklister body. "OH FUCK, OH FUCK - YOU FEEL SO FUCKING GOOD! OH GOD YES!" Round after round pumped violently into the naked man's guts, filling them with enough spooge to keep his hole dripping for hours. The redhead then laid on top of the sobbing mess that was once a supervisor in the bank's call center. He panted, filling his lungs with the necessary air to not only calm him, but also keep the Non-Blacklister alive. Raul, meanwhile continued crying, whimpering about no one helping him and how cruel and evil Kevin was.

"Huh-how do-do-do I stop it from happening again," he mewed in between gasps of air, barely able to form a coherent thought. Clear, hot tears continued to sting his swollen puffy bloodshot eyes.

"Don't be a Blacklister next time," Kevin replied, taking pity upon the shattered, shameful man. His cock-snot mixed with the Blacklister's ruby red juices, oozing slowly out of the battered hole, pooling on the smooth white marble floor. The sadist hiked his pants back up still dripping with blood, and caked on gooey rectal tissue. "Another good pair of denim jeans ruined by the insides of another hotty," he mused in his head, "fuck my life!" He walked over to the lifts and hit the button to summon the metal chamber to his location, ignoring the sobs of the tattered man. "Well Jose will just buy me a new pair like he always does, or rather his credit card will. I wonder how many sluts have ruined my clothes. Shit - who knows? Who cares? Besides, it's hella fun listening to their shrieks as they beg me to stop. Such a huge fucking turn-on!"

The shock from the event eventually wore off as Raul lay there, still blubbering about what had happened. He slowly got up, fluids trickling out of his anus while at the same time aftershocks of pain reprimanded him for his efforts. He moaned with each step, hobbling over to the button and calling forth the ride that he needed to get back to his desk up on the call floor. He hobbled into the machine and waited for it to reach his intended destination. On the third floor he was stopped as a woman climbed into the mechanical compartment. She scoffed at him, giving a "harrumph" at the harrowed man. "Fucking Blacklisters can't go five seconds without having sex," she muttered loud enough for the man to hear while keeping herself from shouting at him. "No wonder you all are a bunch of naked sluts," she jeered. She watched as the cum, tissue, and blood dripped out of Raul, disgusted with the entire sight. "Why can't you shit bags just stop humping everyone and everything in sight," she asked, rhetorically.

Finally the broken Latino had enough, "listen, bitch, I was just violently and brutally sodomized by a man ten years my younger just because he thought I looked pretty. My ass is in tremendous pain, I'm leaking god-knows-what out of my backside, and - oh yes - I'm being forced to never wear clothes or face horrible, unspeakable punishments should a thin, miniscule thread of fabric other than a towel or bedding touch my body. Not to mention that towels can't be used for any longer than five minutes. So would you please shut the hell up and stop commenting on things you know nothing about? Fuck you, bitch!"

The doors opened to the seventh floor and she stepped out before turning to him incensed by everything that he unloaded onto her. "Well I never- !"

"You really should!" The doors sealed shut separating him from her once more. As the carriage continued its ascent, Raul tried to steady himself and somehow staunch the drippings of what he assumed to be blood and liquid male affections seeping out from inside him. No matter how hard he tried, the goo wouldn't stop its flow. The battered Honduran exited from the cabin on the fifteenth floor, his ears being assailed by the cries of another victim on the call floor. He wondered if it was Kevin that was raping the fellow Blacklister or someone else. It didn't matter; at this point he was fazed by vey little anymore. Kevin had taken everything from him: his purity, his identity, his character. The Non-Blacklister had even emasculated him, breaking him down to nothing but a simpering mess. Raul remembered everything and shook once more. Then it hit him like a ton of bricks... his wife had caught him being violated. "Oh shit," he thought to himself as he staggered to his desk near the windows. "Oh fuck - she's leaving me! She saw everything! Oh fuck, what do I do? What do I do?" He sauntered past Jose's office, the man sitting behind the glass bawling his eyes out over the tragedy that was his upheaved life. The naked thirty-eight year old Honduran wanted to galvanize a modicum of sympathy for his fellow peer, but found that he couldn't. Instead he continued to make the agonizing trek over to the enclave of supervisors' desks where he was stationed. He sat down, his cushion slowly being saturated with the gunk he had been leaking everywhere. After a minute or two another of his fellow Blacklisters came over to check up on him. Alex, his best friend, had decided to join him in his commiserations.

Alex leaned up against Raul's desk, his elephantine dick flopping against the massive slabs that were his thighs. He smiled as well as he could, "hey man, what's wrong?"

"It's Kevin he - he -" Raul struggled to get all the words out.

"Come on man, spit it out; what did Kevin do?"

"He raped me! He just - he just bent me over and sodomized my tight, virginal hole for a solid hour. Over and over and over he thrust his massive, gut wrenching cock inside me, ripping me apart all for his sick, perverted pleasure. And when my wife came by to visit me... she caught me being his - his... play thing! I've never been so humiliated in my life! She's gonna leave me and take our daughter!"

"Oh noooo..." Alex always tried to sound as sincere as possible, but it always came off as somewhat distant, cold, and aloof. "Why," the handsome nude twenty-three year old asked.

Raul sat in stunned silence for a minute trying to formulate a response. "Be - because he thought that I was attractive."

"Wow man, that sucks; I've been exceptionally fortunate to have avoided being raped. My virginity is still intact... I'm still a man. No one is gonna make me his bitch, no siree!" Raul looked up at his best friend as the last bits of fluid drooled out from his inflamed hole. A look of annoyance and rage flashed briefly across his face before a plan came into place. If Kevin knew that one of the hottest guys in the company was walking around with his virginity still intact, the Non-Blacklister would want to make sure that HE would be the one to take it. Raul started composing the email to alert Kevin of this horrendous oversight the second Alex walked away from his desk, leaving the broken man to wallow in his misery. The Honduran had to be sure that his subterfuge would go unnoticed and couldn't be traced back to his email address... but how? How would he alert the sadist to the purity of his coworker? How could he ensure that Alex would be taken against his will without anyone knowing it was Raul himself that led it? It would take him a few days to formulate a plan that would ensure his safety while assuring that Alex would lose his. After all, there would be no point in his revenge if Alex wasn't violated. Then it came to him like a gift from on high: the perfect plan. He would create a fake Facebook account and message Kevin about Alex's status as a real, authentic virgin. If he did it from a public location or used a VPN to mask his IP address, then none would be the wiser. He could feed Kevin little tidbits of information about Alex's activities and preferences in order to assure the loss of his purity. He could wind Kevin up and watch him go, all from the shadows of anonymity. Over the course of the next several weeks, Raul would send Kevin messages via Facebook to help the Non-Blacklister stalk and capture his prey. Surprisingly, it wasn't until after Kevin returned from his honeymoon that he was able to take Alex's virginity from him. In an interesting twist of cruel fate he learned that Jose had been conspiring to do the same thing that Raul was now working to accomplish. Had he known, he might have coordinated with his fellow Blacklister in achieving this goal.

That evening, Raul was forced to stay late as he had been assigned to finish some of the new preliminary financial reports for an upcoming meeting. He sat at his computer, crunching the numbers as nine and a half inches of unapologetic testosterone fueled masculinity strained for relief. He hadn't shot his wad since Kevin violently raped him around lunchtime and the pressure was starting to mount. The Honduran's meat was lashing out in blind rage, smashing against his pudgy soft belly, screaming about the lack of attention that it was receiving. He looked around, hoping that no one else was there in the office. He knew that if there was someone else there, then it most likely would be a Non-Blacklister who would want to use him as a plaything. His nine and a half inches of uncut meat began seething vile hatred towards its master, it screamed, "if you don't touch me this second, I'll beat the living daylights out of you! Now play with me, damnmit!" Raul reached down, careful not to make a sound and began caressing his fat, turgid, uncut, prime man-meat. His left hand slowly rose and fell as he drank in the feelings of erotic bliss that rewarded him for his efforts. The minutes laggardly waned as he got lost in a sea of passion, trying his hardest to make himself feel better. The image of his wife making out with Heather started to play out in his mind's eye for his forbidden pleasure. They both pulled off their clothes, laughing and giggling the entire time while motioning for Raul to join in their play and to make a wonderful menage e trois. "Oh Heather," he spoke as softly as he could while keeping his eyes shut, "you have such a nice pair of buhzongas on you. You really should let Miranda hold them for you. She's really, really nice and very helpful." He sat there, under the dim lights after the sun had gone down, playing with himself, and whiling away the hours.

Just as Raul was starting to speed up his stroke session, he felt two large meat hooks grab hold of manly shoulders. Startled, he jumped up in his seat before being thrust back down. He looked up: it was one of the night janitors that had come in. The fellow was easily five feet and nine inches tall. The fellow looked like a stereotypical roughneck from one of those seedy biker bars that you might see in a movie or TV show. He had a bald scalp and was pale skinned, dressed in a gray janitorial jumpsuit from his head to his ankles. He looked more like a convict and less like any janitor that Raul had seen before. In fact, if it weren't for the words "Dave's Old Thyme Janitorial Service,'' printed in black box letters on the back of the jumpsuit, Raul would have thought the guy would have been there to rob the place. The Blacklister focused his vision on the name printed on the front of the jumpsuit: Frank Totterson. Frank smiled at Raul, sending chills down the back of the Latino's spine. Raul noticed the man's blackened goatee with a smattering of gray hair peppered into it, for good measure. The man stood there, menacingly towering over the Blacklister, gray fabric clinging to his broad shoulders. The man had a pudgy belly that one would expect to bounce around as the janitor walked around. Raul's eyes continued to travel down the man's body, and soon found something that was even more terrifying than that damned, accursed smile plastered all over that man's face. There, in the area of the fly of the suit, was a massive tent popping out, with a wet stain leaking through to the otherside. Raul swallowed hard; he knew what was going to come next, and he had to think of something quick to distract the janitor. The Latino's eyes darted wildy about as he tried to find something to distract the bulging, barrel-chested man, only to find nothing. There was not a single thing that Raul could find that might distract the man long enough for Raul to escape. After a few seconds of abject terror and intimidation, Frank spoke: "good evening sir."

"Goo-goo-good evening, Mr. Totterson. Huh-how are you doing on this warm summer's night?"

"I am doing loads better, sir. Loads better indeed." Totterson began rubbing his thickened sheathed crotch meat across Raul's shoulder as he continued with that blood freezing smile.

Raul swallowed again, "well that's good. Working aw-awfulllly luh-late aren't you?"

"Who me? Nahhhhh... this is my normal shift, sir. But you, you seem to be here awfully late, don't you?"

"Uhhhhh, yes... yes I am. I've got some preliminary financial reports for a meeting tomorrow that I need to prep for."

"Ohhhh, nice; ya know what?"

"What?"

"I'm a little jealous of that chair you're sitting on right now." Frank continued rubbing his erection against Raul's shoulder sending surges of anxiety throughout the nudist's body. His big, beefy meat hooks now clamped firmly on top of Raul's bald head.

"Ummmm, yuh-you are?"

"Why yes, I am!"

"Wh-wh-why-eye's that?"

"Cause that smokin' hot ass of yours is planted firmly on it."

"Ind-duh-deed i-i-i-it is."

"Tell ya what: how 'bout I lay on the floor, you move the keyboard, monitor, and mouse towards the ground and you can use my face as your new seat cushion? Whatcha say? Sound good?"

"I, uhhhhh, don't know. Wa-won't that make i-i-it difficult to breathe?" Frank continued thrusting his cotton cage against Raul's shoulder, dragging it against the Blacklister's neck this time. Raul shook as he felt just the tiniest of hints of moisture ooze onto his neck and shoulder.

"Nahhhhh, I'll be fine; I've been in tighter spaces than between your cheeks. However, if you feel that way, I understand." Raul breathed a sigh of relief as Frank continued on, "how about instead you just sit on my lap, and you can use my male tenderness to help keep yourself balanced. What do you say about that?"

"Ummmm, no thank you," Raul nervously replied as his fear grew.

"Well, in that case, I guess I'll just take my leave then." Raul sighed loudly as Frank walked away, leaving him all alone once more. Just as the naked Latino turned back to the screen, he felt the most intense force latch onto him before knocking him out of his swivel office chair. With a thud, he slammed into the dimly lit, geometrically decorated, carpeted floor. His chair had somehow wheeled itself away, preventing Raul from grabbing it. Looking up with terror in his eyes, he could see the beefy, barrel chested outline of the pudgy janitor. There in the shadows, he could see the shadowy, glistening wicked smile of the janitor. The man unbuttoned and removed his jumpsuit as Raul struggled to get himself away from the large man. The damage he had sustained proved to be his undoing as he felt a little stunned from the fall allowing Frank to grab onto Raul's ankle. The janitor yanked the Blacklister closer to his hirsute heavyset body, "don't run, big sexy... I just wanna feel that soft, marshmallowy ass of yours." Raul fought back, thrusting his arm at the big brute only to find that the janitor was undeterred. Again, Raul tried shoving his attacker away as Frank began rubbing his hardened prick against the Blacklister's anus, threatening him with savage lust. Raul's fear was paramount in the moment, and he was unable to offer sufficient resistance against the onslaught. He tried to fight back, but his efforts were for naught.

"NO - NO, PLEASE," Raul begged the beastly man, "SOMEONE, ANYONE, HE-AHHHHH-HAHAHA!" His words had been seized by the horrific agony of a man's penis ripping into his backside. Torment mixed with fear as he was now pinned under Frank's sticky, hairy body. Raul screamed while he felt rectal tissue being torn asunder as it too tried to resist the wicked intruder.

"That's it baby, that's it," Frank whispered as Raul's tightness began to weaken under his iron spike. "You don't have to fight me to turn me on, but it does help." Bit by bit Raul's virgin-tight ass was slowly ripped apart as blood trickled out before pooling on the floor. He shrieked as Frank dug deeper and deeper into his innards. Then the janitor soon found that he had gone as far as he could go with all ten inches crammed inside the Blacklister. Frank felt so amazing as waves of unimaginable pleasure coursed through his body. He laughed as he happily raped this thirty-eight year old blacklisted bank employee. Frank loved defiling Blacklisters and his thirst for sexual cruelty was never fully slated.

Raul finally was able to focus through the pain, "PLEASE STOP! I DON'T WANT THIS! PLEASE, PLEA-EEEE-AHHHHHHH-HAH!" Frank ignored the Blacklister's pleas and continued his quest of brutally sodomizing the nude Honduran.

"Fuckin' Mexicans, y'all are so hot and so unbelievably tight... way tighter than a woman's pussy."

"I'M NOT MEXICAN YOU - AHHHH-HAHH!" Frank didn't care where the man was from, only as to how tight his anus was. The janitor grabbed hold of Raul's shoulder blades, pulling himself forward and forcing himself as deep as he could get into the Blacklister's tight ass. Raul howled as Frank established a rhythm, hollowing him out like a pumpkin in October. Red hot angry tears began burning Raul's eyes as he started crying from the torture he was being made to endure. He wanted nothing more than to get away from this man and his pain making cock, but the janitor was either too strong or Raul was too weak. Not that either of those things mattered at that moment only the exquisite suffering frome the brutality of the rape mattered. An hour passed before Frank sped his savagery up. He was so close to the sheer divine ecstasy that nothing could thwart him now. In and out, in and out, Frank pumped his love piston into Raul's blood soaked rectum speeding faster and faster to his happy ending.

"OH FUCK, OH FUCK," Frank called out, "FUCK YEAH BABY! DADDY WANTS TO IMPREGNATE YOU SO FU-UHHH-HUH OHHHHHHHHH!" Wads of hot man chowder flooded Raul's backside, pushing out blood and bits of tissue with it. Raul felt searing hot spurts shoot into him as if they somehow managed to push themselves past the torment. Finally, after seventy seconds of abject terror and degradation, the janitor finished unloading his seminal vesicles into the Blacklister's tight anus. He pat the nudist on the back, got up, and resumed his duties. Raul lay on the carpet that had been his friend for the past hour, shivering and weeping into its cold bosom. The fabric provided little in the way of comfort to his sobs or his broken psyche. After twenty minutes had passed, Raul knew he had to get up and get on with his life. The Blacklister stood up, shut down his PC, grabbed his things, hobbled over to the elevators, and left the building. He felt broken and humiliated, as though he was responsible for turning on his attacker. Maybe if he was less attractive, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't have been such an easy target. Maybe if he had tried harder at fighting back he could've gotten free or avoided the rape alltogether. Fluids dripped from his battered backside as he made his way outside and crossed the street to the parking garage. It was there, in the shadows, his night was going to go from bad to worse.

He made his way through the dark of night when suddenly a masculine voice rang out. "Hey sexy daddy," the young voice said, "where ya takin' that shake of yours in such a hurry?"

"Yeah Daddy," another one called out, "what's the rush?" Two young men emerged from the shadows like vampires waiting to feed on fresh prey. Their skin was almost as pale as the undead themselves. One looked to be no older than nineteen and wore a black leather jacket. His hair was as dark as the shadows themselves, and despite his eyes being a pale, sickly hazel color, burned with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. He had full, pouty red lips not from lip liner or anything like that, but as if they had been filled with a surplus of blood in them. The leather clad youth had a swimmer's build to him, making him compact yet muscular. The second fellow was equally muscular as the first with hair just as black, and skin just as pale. Unlike his companion, he had piercing brown eyes that looked as they would gaze into Raul's soul. His lips were a soft rose pink... smooth, supple, and thin. He wore a solid cotton white T-shirt, and denim shorts as he glided through the humid night air. The second was the same age as the first, and both wore the same exact pair of shoes as each other. Raul realized that they were both of East Asian descent, appearing to be of Japanese origin, in more precise terms. The nudist swallowed as the duo approached him. "We haven't had a daddy in a good long while," the second boy looked at Raul as though he were a piece of fresh meat.

"Yeah," the first interjected, "our balls are so full and heavy with young cum that it's driving us insane."

"Thank goodness you showed up," a third voice called out from behind Raul. The naked Honduran spun around and found a third lad emerging from the shadows. He wore a crimson red shirt with an equally red ball cap on top. The brim had been turned to the right side of the youth, but Raul could tell by the coloring and the print on the shirt that they were both toting a love for KC's only NFL team: The Kansas City Chiefs. The third lad, like the other two, wore loose, billowy denim shorts that fluttered around with every step he took. Being of Japanese ancestry himself, he had hair as black as the other two that was mostly hidden underneath the red ball cap on his head. His skin was just as pale and he had full, pouty, blood red lips. His eyes were jade green and like the others, appeared to have a compact muscular frame. They must have been divers or swimmers for the local university in the area. "What was its name again? Rockhill or something like that," Raul ruminated a bit as the three nineteen year olds surrounded him. "No time for that now," he assured himself, "I gotta escape." A breeze picked up and not only inflated the boy's shorts, but also Raul's dick, making it stiff once again. Raul saw the crazed look of lust in the boys' eyes as they licked their lips, staring at his engorgement. Suddenly the nudist felt more exposed in that one moment than he did in his entire life. He tried to flee but the third one stepped in his way, sending him careening down to the concrete pavement. "Now, now Daddy," his smile made Raul's blood run cold, "play time is just getting started." As Raul rose back up, he felt the weight of the first guy come around and grab him, holding him in place.

"Please let me go," Raul begged, "all I want is to go home."

"And all we want," the first boy hissed, "is to find a dad to play with for the evening. Tell ya what - how about you spend some time with us and we'll make you feel real special, hmmm? Does that sound like a good idea Daddy?" Raul shook his head as he felt the young man's stiffness graze his butt cheeks. The lad bucked his hips forward and Raul yelped out of fear, the kid's tented moisture sending shivers throughout his body. His captor leaned in and kissed him upon the right side of his neck before licking it with his wet, sticky tongue. Raul shuddered as a feeling of disgust washed over him intermingling with his fresh new terror. He thrashed about trying to free himself only for the first guy to clamp down harder on his chest with his right hand before grabbing the Blacklister's free arm with his left.

"Ple-eh-eh-ease let me g-go," Raul pleaded as the second guy grabbed another of the Honduran's arms while the third started yanking on his exposed genitalia. "I was already raped this evening. I don't know if I can take another round."

The boys chuckled as a twinge of fear ran down Raul's spine. "Hear that guys," the second one was now sucking on the arm he held. "He's already been raped tonight. He thinks that he isn't pretty enough for multiple violations."

"Ohhhh, I know," said the first, "let's show him that he is just as pretty as all of the others. Let's take turns rapin' his hot ass for a couple of hours."

"Yeah," said the second.

"Great idea," said the third, "then he'll never feel unattractive again." The first one shoved Raul in the back, forcing him to take a ninety degree angle.

"Please don't," Raul whispered as the boys undid their pants, letting them fall carelessly to the ground. Each one of them had a hefty seven and a half inches attached to their bodies. Their beasts were as thick as Raul's wrist, and leaked strands of pre-cum out their angry eyes. The first one rammed his tool up into Raul's broken hole while the second got on the ground and started sucking the Latino off. As Raul screamed once again, tears rolling down his cheeks, the third came around, and clogged his throat with the third guy's rape tool.

"Hey I got a neat idea," the first announced, "let's tale turns raping the cum out of him. We can even make a game of it. Whichever one of us makes him cum the hardest wins."

"Dude that sounds awesome," replied the third guy as the second guy gave a thumbs up. The first guy yanked his cock back out before ramming it back into Raul's jiggly ass forcing him to scream into the third youngster's cock. "Oh man, this feels so fucking amazing! He's screaming right into my junk and the vibrations are - Are - AHHHHAAAHHH-AYEEEEEE-HEHE!" Wet hot semen exploded into Raul's throat causing him to cough and sputter as the kid's sludge slithered down past his tonsils and into his lungs. This caused his rectal muscles to spasm uncontrollably and led the first one to shoot his seed into Raul's guts, pumping several rounds of love fluid into the Blacklister's damaged rear. As Raul choked and heaved the ejaculate from his lungs, he caved to the second guy's attempts at coercing his spicy Latin load from his loins. His own cock churned out blast after blast of his man butter down the youth's esophagus and into his belly. The second youth stood up and creamed right into Raul's face, drenching him with the contents of his young reproductive system. The guys high-fived before switching places and starting over again. For the next two hours the Asian swimmers took turns gang-raping the helpless Latino, using him for their own sexual needs, filling him with their spooge. As they entered hour three and Raul was shaking uncontrollably, they grew bored with jamming their hardons into his various orifices. Instead they took turns shoving things from the ground in a contest to see who could make him scream the loudest. This, of course, ultimately failed as Raul had screamed himself mute from the incessant invasions of his love cavern. After they realized this, the first boy picked up a broken beer bottle, shoved it into Raul's cum flooded hole, sealing it shut, and walked off leaving the Honduran to lay on the sidewalk, tattered and silently weeping. Raul remained there for thirty minutes, trying to cling to what semblance of self respect he had left. He knew that it wouldn't be long before others who had been bar hopping would come across his bloodied, injured form and would continue the maliciousness that he had been forced to endure. He picked up his stuff, and dragged his bloodied self up the stairs, into the elevator, and down to his car. Every movement was far more excruciating than the last as he didn't find the time to remove the serrated beer bottle from his rectum until he got in the driver's seat of his four door coupe. The glass clinked to the ground as he shut his door and drove off into the night to get back to his empty apartment. There, he spent the next several hours healing himself from the trauma of the day, calling into work the next morning with a sick day.

It was the day of the divorce hearing and Raul's nerves were in overdrive. Everything was going great for the naked Honduran: his wife had agreed to legal proceedings in a courtroom, which made him feel that his victory was assured. If he could prove to the courts that her assertion of infidelity was unfounded then he'd win and she would have to pay him for defamation of character. He would also be allowed full custody of their daughter and even receive child support payments from her. She had little to no evidence of the infidelity as all those who might have seen the incident in question were not to be found. Luckily for him, this was a pure coincidence that occurred in his favor. Raul imagined that his blacklisted coworkers were busy being brutalized while the non-blacklisted witnesses were too indifferent in the proceedings to show up, that is, if there were any. True, she could have hired a P.I. to find those who would attest to witnessing him being publicly violated, but that would've cost more than she was willing to spend. After all, she was quite the frugal person which was one of the things Raul loved about her. It was the start of the hearing and the naked Honduran sat in the defendant's position in the courtroom, his genitals being tormented by the soft, velvety cushion of his chair.

"All rise for the honorable Judge Fred Burger," the bailiff announced as a man in a black robe entered the room from a closed door. Judge Burger was a portly man of fifty-seven years and had been a judge since his late thirties. He had overseen numerous cases in his life, including divorce proceedings. He was deemed exceptionally fair and impartial by clients and coworkers alike, and rarely, if ever, reached a verdict that was arguably unfounded. He had been losing his hair for a good portion of the past decade, and as such, the only hair that remained attached to his scalp was the perfectly trimmed mane that encompassed most of his head along with a mustache. The judge's black robes suited him well, hiding his oversized pudgy belly from any leering eyes, that made himseem slender. His pale skin, such as it was, contrasted greatly from his robes and ensured that he would never be blacklisted himself. He had no bias or opinion when it came to the Blacklist Laws themselves and was completely indifferent when it came to determining whether they were necessary or not. His only concern came in the form of upholding the laws, along with all of the others that were on the books. Judge Burger felt it was up to the politicians and the public to decide whether or not the laws should remain enacted. So long as it didn't make his job anymore difficult to perform, he couldn't care less. "Judge Burger presiding in the matter of Ortiz, Mrs. versus Ortiz, Mr." the bailiff announced. Conversely, the bailiff, however, was not so unbiased when it came to the Blacklist Laws.

"Please be seated," came the bellowing voice of Judge Burger. Tony Rogers was a beast of a man, who held onto a dark little secret. It was a secret that could ruin him if it ever came out about what he had done... what he had been. You see, up until the Great Revelation Tony Rogers had been an unrepentant drug user. It wasn't any old drug that he had been using and he didn't use it for recreation like so many others. His drug of choice had been steroids and he had been using them to gain muscle mass, increasing his strength all the while making him more attractive. They made Rogers's arms huge and popping with veins along with the rest of his body. In fact he was so huge he had difficulty doing even the most mundane tasks. His old clothes would hardly fit him, forcing him to obtain an entirely new wardrobe, and his uniform as a bailiff could barely hold in his overly saturated muscles, constantly threatening to tare itself at the seams. Every step was a constant struggle to remain fully clothed as he wasn't blacklisted himself and he would've been fully penalized if he ever became nude in public. Both women and men would throw themselves at him and beg to be used sexually by his powerful body. Sadly, with each injection that he took, his testicles became smaller and smaller until they barely existed at all. Then one day a curious thing started to occur: they began to grow. It wasn't over night and it certainly didn't happen in a matter of days or weeks. Something inside him told him to give up the drugs and that if he did that, they'd grow faster. Tony checked himself into a rehab clinic under a pseudonym and within about six months cleaned himself up. Once he did that, his testicles grew faster than a pair of tomatoes on a vine. A month after the Great Revelation, his nuts were as big as the average male's size and his sex drive went through the roof. Once women stopped engaging in intercourse with him, he turned to men, who were just as good, if not better. They enjoyed his long, obese dick, his huge muscles, and his arrogant attitude. In fact, many of them were attractive themselves; he found Blacklisters especially appealing. He loved that they were naked twenty-four, seven. There was something so intoxicating about a man who flaunted societal conventions and wore nothing at all, as if to say, "I'm sexy and I know it!" He started frequenting Blacklister heavy bars and clubs in an effort to satiate his maddening sexual urges and frustrations. They loved his sun-bleached blonde hair, his muscles bigger than cement construction bricks, as well as his oversized diamond hard ass cheeks. He had started frequenting a gym that was saturated with Blacklisters, and often watched them work out while he pretended to work out. Eventually one would work up the courage to approach him, and ask to hook up. This resulted in some of the most carnal, rambunctious rounds of love making that he had ever known. No woman ever matched a man's passions, a man's desires, it was as if they had a hunger in them and he was the one to sate it for them. They loved it when he rammed his beercan fat stiffy down their throats until he shot ten times more spunk than he did with a female. Furthermore, men drank his jizz happily, making it easier to clean up afterwards and a man's ass was always tighter than a woman's pussy. To say that he was their god was an understatement, and one compliment he loved to hear again and again when they got with him. He learned that he didn't have to take a dick in his ass to be with another man. It was even better if he didn't as he was told multiple times over that shoving cock into their back doors was a rarity in the gay community. Tony had all the power and could make the rules as he went along. He took one long look at the naked Latino in his courtroom and felt an all too familiar tightening in his pants. The man was beautiful (as most Blacklisters were) flabby, but beautiful. The blonde norse muscle titan licked his lips as he stared at the slab of man meat that sat naked only a few feet away from him.

Tim Shaw was one of the best divorce lawyers that the state had seen in awhile. His strawberry blonde hair was accented by his pink pale skin. His ancestors were of Irish origin, and his family had immigrated here during the Irish potato famine of the late 1800s. He and his immediate family had moved to the KC metro area when he was only five years old. Growing up, he loved to argue with anyone and everyone. It didn't matter whether he was right or they were, he just loved to argue. He was thin, a tad frail, and a bit gangly walking around on legs that might have seemed awkward on most other men, but somehow seemed fitting for him. He never wore a standard necktie and instead always opted for a bowtie, more often than not some shade of red. Luckily for Raul, he was free to argue the man's case in the divorce proceedings both were about to endure. Unluckily for him, his fees were higher than most others in his field. He came highly recommended to the defendant and after a bit of negotiation, he was willing to argue his case at seventy-five percent of the going rate, along with the Latino's male cousin to go on a date. Tim was gay, and he had too much love and respect for Blacklisters to ever force himself upon them. He had classic movie star good looks and wore metal gray wire framed glasses on his face, which made him all the more desirable to some. Raul's cousin, Pepe, was a hardcore Cholo who had a thing for nerdy looking white boys. So it was only natural for him to say yes when he saw Tim's picture. Neither of them would know it until much later, but it was a match made in Heaven itself. Pepe would protect his nerd's virtues at all cost and Tim would hold Pepe, and tell him how sweet and magnificent the Blacklister was. Tim was to be a port in an unending storm of relentless disdain, hatred, and brutality. "Your honor," Mr. Shaw started his opening statement, "and people of the court, by the end of this proceeding you will not only see why the accusations of my client's wife are not only unfounded, but also come to realize that her claims are erroneous and defamatory to say the least. My client has not, and will never, cheat on his wife, nor engage in acts of carnal pleasure with another, let alone a man. Her accusations are false, misleading, and dare I say even biased... based on pure fiction. A fiction that she has willfully fabricated in order to further her own bias in the social station that my client now occupies. Thank you for your time."

It was David Wilson's turn to refute the claims that the opposing counsel had made. David Wilson was born into an affluent WASP family and from an early age, he had a propensity to ferret out the truth amongst his family and peers. He longed to do good in the world and was never content with only half truths and half baked schemes that his equals so often engaged in. Whenever they would formulate a plan to obtain what they desired, he would counter with a more direct, less dangerous or invasive way to harvest the same results. His wife Amanda was content with being the happy homemaker allowing her husband to be the breadwinner while she raised their two sons. Although officially she never had a favorite, she did dote on her only daughter and loved playing pretend with her after completing whatever chores she had to do for the day. Their sons would busy themselves with video games while her daughter pretended to be a magical princess or witch or good fairy in the stories she created. When she grew older, she would become an award winning author, but for now, she was content with being an imaginative child. David was shorter than his opposition at only five feet and seven inches tall. He had raven black hair, and soft brown eyes, which put everyone he met at ease... even if it was unfounded. The lawyer had grown up in Kansas City and only left it to attend Yale law school upon graduating with honors from his high school. Although he would never admit it in public, he did have a bias against Blacklisters, especially those of a Hispanic descent. He wasn't sexually attracted to them, but saw them as savage, carnal people who deserved getting whatever came with the Blacklist Laws. You see, when he was eighteen and just starting out at Yale, he was nearly sexually assaulted by a vagrant Latin man who was heavily intoxicated. If it hadn't been for Amanda's father, he would have lost his own virginity or worse. When he came back to her parents' place to get bandaged up, he met her and the two fell immediately in love. It was a storybook romance that was ripped from the pages of a fairytale. The two became inseparable and eventually married leading to three wonderful children. "Your honor," David formulated his rebuttal, "members of the court, by the end of these proceedings, not only will I, David Wilson, have proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that my client's husband is the philanderer that she knows him to be, but that he has never had any desire to marry her and was shamed into marrying her to placate to society's whims. Furthermore, I plan to show that he is nothing more than a lucky con man who has managed to pull the proverbial wool over everyone's eyes in order to prevent people from discovering the truth, that he does in fact relish in his new station in life. These new laws, the Blacklist Laws, are there for a reason and should be taken heavily into account as motivation for his actions of fulfilling his forbidden desires. Thank you all for the opportunity to avail you all of the truth."

Judge Burger addressed the courtroom, "prosecuting council, and defending council, seeing as how prosecution was kind enough to go second in their opening statements, they shall go first in calling of witnesses. Prosecution, call your first witness."

"Prosecution calls Mrs. Samantha Jiminez, mother of prosecution herself."

"So be it." Mrs Jimenez got up, entered the stand, and was sworn in. The woman was never particularly fond of her daughter's choice in a mate, and spoke at great length as to the many times that she would see something that would cause her to be suspicious of Raul. She went on to discuss why she followed him in her own home, and watched as he played with her granddaughter. She mentioned how prior to her husband's untimely death she had been told by him of an incident in which Raul was caught looking at gay porn on their computer after offering to clean up his in-law's machine. This was not entirely a lie, as it was so much a distortion of the truth. Raul had cleaned the computer, and had been looking at porn, but it was straight porn that was leftover from his father-in-law. A fact that was revealed when the defense cross examined her. Bit by bit the holes in her stories started to emerge which only aided in Raul's defense. After she left, the prosecution called in Alyssa, his wife's best friend since childhood. The prosecution's cross examination yielded little in regards to Miranda's case against him, and only further added to the assertion of the defense. The defense expanded upon the accounts that she had given, and highlighted several times in which she had seen him reject the advances of other men and women. Miranda's sister, Katherine, was the last witness before the prosecution stopped calling witnesses. She gave accounts of him becoming sexually aroused whenever she entered the room and how he once hit on her. When the defense questioned her about those incidents, it was discovered that she had been heavily drinking the night that he hit on her and she admitted that it could've been anyone hitting on her. Furthermore, it was shown that Raul was nowhere near her when the incident occurred and was in fact doing a late night craving run for his wife due to her pregnancy at the time. Right before the prosecution was to finish calling witnesses, they called a surprise witness: Raul's wife, Miranda.

Miranda was born here in the USA and grew up in the great state of Florida. She had three older brothers that all lived out of state. She moved to Kansas City with her sister about ten years ago and met Raul after a few months of living in the city. He was helpful and acted as a guide for living in the metro, helping her find all the best places for her to get things that she and her sister needed. A year and a half later, the two were married with a new house to be filled with children. Miranda and Raul had their first child, Maya, after a few years of marriage and were getting ready for their second one when things changed. The Great Revelation disrupted their lives dramatically and caused a major upheaval in the day-to-day living of Raul and Miranda both. The additional pressure of having to deal with other men's sexual deviances had started taking a toll on their marriage. Gone was the happy-go-lucky Raul and in came the irrational, paranoid version of himself. His paranoia spilled into Miranda's psyche, causing her to become suspicious of Raul and his behavior. She told him that if she ever caught him with another man that she would leave him on the spot, regardless of the circumstances. She recounted how she had messaged her husband about how she wanted to have a late lunch with him that afternoon as she had a few errands to run that would keep her tied up until two. Miranda attested to having to see her OBGYN on a routine checkup, and then get some new sneakers as her old ones were literally falling apart at the seams. It was after the shoe purchase when she would be meeting with her husband and eating with him. Miranda admitted to being five minutes late due to an unexpected traffic accident that had happened on the highway on her way over to his office building. After parking, she then ran up the stairs and out to the street near the parking garage before taking the sidewalk to the main entrance. It was then that she was horrified by what she found: her husband locked in an erotic display of unmitigated sexual pleasure with another man. She told the court how he was screaming with delight as the man rammed his tool deep into Raul's guts and how Raul begged for more from his male lover. She then slapped him, called him a name, and then walked away. Miranda said that although it made her look bad and gave the wrong impression of her character, she felt that she had little choice at that moment given the emotional toll. The defense cross examined her for ten minutes before deciding that there wasn't much else they could do to clear the situation up, but did cast a shadow of a doubt as to what was happening to Raul at that moment. After she left the stand, the prosecution stopped calling witnesses and rested their case. It was now up to the defense to call witnesses to attest to the character of Raul, Miranada, and the state of affairs in their marriage.

The first witness the defense called was Raul's older brother, Juan. Juan was also blacklisted and as such approached the stand wearing only a pair of sneakers. Juan was forty-five and a bit pudgier than his younger brother. He had all of the typical hallmarks of a Blacklister: dark hair, brown eyes, black tea colored skin. One of his most distinguishing features was his enormous genitals which were larger than his younger brothers. Halfway through his testimony, the damn thing nearly doubled in size after he caught the bailiff smiling at him, and licking his lips. The very idea that someone found him to be sexually desirable made him as hard as a rock, and made him double over with lust. He had to whack off while still being able to give his testimony. The sound of his hand fapping against his hairless crotch made the bailiff even more aroused. Raul watched as the man in uniform became sexually aroused and feared that he might assault his brother. Somehow the bailiff restrained himself and his brother only left behind a puddle of spooge in his place. It was after the prosecution's cross examination that the next witness was called, (along with a jizz janitor for cleaning) one of Raul's blacklisted friends, Jeremy. Jeremy, despite all appearances, was thirty years old with lite mocha brown skin. His mother was white and his father was black giving him a happy balance between two almost disparaging cultures. He was tall, thin, and wiry thus giving him the illusion of being a twenty-two year old twink. This image was aided by his cherubic young facial features and the fact that he carried himself like someone who was in their early twenties. His chestnut brown hair was tightly matted to his scalp almost as if it had been forced down by hair care products like a gel or pomade. His chest was flat but somehow looked well defined at all times. It was as if he would work out just enough to keep his body taut while avoiding muscle bulk. Jeremy's exposed pectoral muscles were decorated with a pair of sharp, dime-sized, chocolate brown nipples that always looked like they needed to be gnawed on to be happy. His thin, almost gangly arms were complimented by equally thin legs on top of which sat two plump, apple shaped butt cheeks. Jeremy's vulnerable cheeks looked so sumptuous that men were strongly tempted into biting them wherever he went; a few did. It was between his legs that most men were interested in as it housed an almost overwhelming sexual organ. His cock was easily twelve inches long and as thick as a plastic bottle of soda. It dangled from his body with a trimmed patch of chestnut brown hair clung to his naked body. When it became irritated, it would stiffen and threaten everyone it came across with its seething vile hatred for all human life. It would bark and snarl, sliding to and fro as its rage poured from its mouth. No one, not one single person, had invited its disdain as of yet. However, the day had yet to finish and there still was the divorce proceedings to endure.

Jeremy gave a stellar review of his friend's activities while at work. He was able to dodge questions about the pair of them being forced to bathe one another privately while their boss watched and recorded the whole thing. He also neglected to mention how they became sexually aroused when doing so, and would masturbate furiously while Damon laughed like a hyena. Jeremy even avoided mentioning taking turns rubbing their cocks in between each other's butt cheeks. Any damning testimony of sexual deviance was somehow miraculously circumvented by both the prosecution and the defense. Try as they might, the prosecution couldn't dig up any dirt during their cross examination of events and behaviors that Raul engaged in while at work. "Will that be all," Jeremy asked before leaving the stand. David smiled as he approached the table set up for the prosecution; a deviant, degrading idea had popped into his head.

"Yes, just one more thing," David said, making Raul's blood run ice cold. "Please prepare yourself for inspection."

"In-inspection? What do you mean 'inspection'?"

"It is well within legal code that when a Blacklister enters, leaves, and/or occupies a government building, they are subject to random inspections for contraband."

"This can't actually be a real thing, can it," Jeremy decried as he looked to the judge for validation of his argument.

The judge nodded, "I am afraid he's right. Random cavity searches are allowed to be performed on any Blacklister provided they are in a government building. It was attached to the marriage amendment that was passed sometime ago. Bailiff, please restrain the witness and perform the mandated inspection."

"But, but I don't have any contraband - I SWEAR!" Jeremy tried to flee the stand and make his way out the door of the courtroom only to find that the bailiff was much faster and stronger than he was. It was bad enough that he had to endure being raped on a frequent basis, but it was an entirely another thing to have his butthole poked and prodded by someone five times his bulk. Tony dragged the fearful Blacklister back to the stand and held him upright as he reached into his pocket and fished out one of the blue gloves he kept for such acts. Jeremy's fear took over, keeping him tethered to the spot... too afraid to run again and risk injury. The bailiff chuckled as reached into his other pocket for the KY Jelly that had been allotted to him for these situations. He smeared the body warm goop onto his gloved hand, making sure it was nice and wet before inserting it into the Blacklister's tight anus. Jeremy swallowed down his terror as best as he could, wishing that this was a nightmare from which he could awaken. Tony reached around the terrified Blacklister with his right arm while pushing the fellow over with his left so that Jeremy would form a ninety degree angle. Jeremy's hole was now in a position where anyone and everyone could see the thing. He refused to spread his cheeks apart in the last remaining act of defiance he had at his disposal.

"Don't worry, sexy," Tony hissed soft enough for his prey to hear, "this will only last until I'm thoroughly convinced that you have nothing to hide." With that, he jammed his index finger into Jeremy's hole as the Blacklister cried out. Jeremy hadn't ever felt this humiliated in his life as the roid enhanced bailiff probed the inner recesses of his rectum. His whole body was on display for the entire courtroom and his humiliation was being recorded for years to come. He howled with agony as his aggressor swirled his chubby digit clockwise in his virgin-tight bum, laughing at his abject terror and degradation. "Ohhhhh, what's amatter with the Blacklister, huh," Tony taunted Jeremy, "doesn't this feel good? Hmmmm? Blacklisters love it when something goes up their pretty little butts! They live for that shit!" Jeremy only responded with another yelp as the man jammed his finger deeper inside. "Ya know judge, I'm not finding anything with just one finger. It may take some more to be extra sure."

Judge Burger nodded his head approvingly, "I'll allow it, but only if you think it necessary."

"Oh I do... I definitely, definitely do." Tony pulled his index finger from Jeremy's exposed hole before shoving two more thick, meaty digits deep into the Blacklister's anus. Jeremy howled as his quivering, virgin-tight innards were cleft in twain, pain surging throughout his body. Tony could feel his victim's tissue rip and tare, trying to resist the intruder, only to find it failing to do so. The bailiff loved having this kind of power... the kind in which he could degrade and control others. The kind in which they couldn't refuse or face dire consequences for disobedience. It aroused him sexually, knowing that he could do this to any Blacklister at any time. Jeremy felt his humanity slipping through his fingers as time slowed to a laggard crawl. He felt deeply, deeply ashamed as his whole identity was torn down by the bailiff piece by broken piece. He started sobbing uncontrollably, not from the pain or any physical damage, but from the mental trauma of what was happening to him. Angry hot tears of psychological torment streamed down his face before hitting the witness stand chair that he firmly held onto in an effort to maintain his balance. Another heartless laugh came from the bailiff as he yanked his fingers back out of the guy's ass, pulling bits of tissue with them like one might take the guts out of a pumpkin before carving into it. Tears of blood trickled out of Jeremy's rectum, pooling on the ground beneath his battered hole. Raul looked over at Miranda to gauge her reaction to this form of torment only to find her face buried in the glow of her smartphone. Raul shuddered as Jeremy howled once more in agony. After fifteen minutes of the bailiff violently jamming and removing his fingers into and out of Jeremy's broken recutm he called it quits. "I'm satisfied," he announced, indifferent to his victim's wailing, "he's got nothing there. He's free to go!" Jeremy collapsed to the ground, shivering from the debasement of the past several minutes, unable to move.

"You are free to go," Judge Burger reiterated while staring down at the fragmented Blacklister. "You have nothing to hide and therefore are of no more interest in this matter. Please leave so the next witness may take the stand." Jeremy forced himself to his feet, still unable to process fully everything that had happened. He felt broken, disjointed... like everything was foggy, he had been hollowed out and only acted on pure instinct and a sense of self preservation. The naked man staggered towards one of the pews in the courtroom and flopped down upon its cold wooden paneling. There, he would spend the next several hours recuperating from the horror of his ordeal, occasionally weeping softly to himself.

Over the next several hours, witnesses would be called; people who best knew Raul and his character. His baby sister gave a stellar review of his own life and how he was always faithful in every relationship. Even the prosecution failed in finding anything worth using against him. Then came his mother; a woman who practically doted on her three kids every single day of their lives. Coworkers, both male and female would come up to the stand and sang of his praises and lauded him with high marks. It was finally his father's turn to take the stand. Raul sat nervously by as he watched his bare-skinned father be sworn in. The naked older Honduran was sixty-six years old, but was vibrant and alive as ever. He looked handsome to say the least, and appeared to have aged like a fine wine, ripe for any young, or old, farmer to pick. Manuelo, the man was named, had peppered gray hair and spoke with a thick, almost unmanageable, accent. He was thick and looked more flabby than the other Blacklisters in the courtroom. His chunky torso held a light dusting of body hair which underneath it two round pecs held aloft by his aged bulky frame. Two round soft nipples the size of nickels sat at the edges of his roly-poly man boobs. He had two flabby arms and two elderly legs doing their best to hold up his loose, bulging ass cheeks. A fat dick that was nine inches long with twice the girth of Raul's own piece spilled out his bushy, pepper gray pubes. It swung and jiggled just like the rest of his senescent body whenever he walked. After being sworn in and asked about his son, and his son's marriage by the defense, the prosecution went in a different direction with their questions.

"Tell me Sr. Ortiz," David started, "what do you do for a living?"

"Jye 'am, how you say, a portero de leche..." his father replied, "jay kleener off... off... milk day los hombres."

"Really, does that pay well?"

"Si, berry good..."

"And tell me, who's leche (was it)..." Manuelo nodded, "who's leche do you clean?"

"Awl de mens..."

"Let me clarify... where do you clean?"

"Ohhh-hhhhooo, clean - limp-ee-are - si, I clean."

"Yes, but where do you clean? Where?"

"At dee univer-see-dawd... duh skool pour dee boyz... dee yung mens."

"Oh, right, Rockaway..."

"Si, Rock-ah-whey..."

"And seeing as how you are clearly a Blacklister, do the boys ever take advantage of you?"

"Take ad-vahn-tug? No tay comprendoh"

"Do they rape you," David clarified further once he saw Manuelo's still confused expression, "do they stick their penises into your butt?"

"OBJECTION," shouted Tim, "relevancy!"

"Overruled," replied the judge as he sat by watching the examination, "but I do hope you are going somewhere with this, Mr. Wilson."

David gave his most flattering smile he could conjure forth, "oh, I am your honor." He turned back to Manuelo, and repeated the question, "do they stick their penises in your butt?"

A look of shame and fear crossed Manuelo's face before his head angled downward, looking away from the man. "Si, jess," he mournfully replied.

"And tell me Sr. Ortiz, do they do it often? That is to say, do they do it a lot?"

"Si"

"About how many times, would you say?"

"Daily"

"OK, how many times daily?"

"Too meny to cownt."

"What kinds of men? Young ones, old ones?"

"Toe-doh... awl off dhem," Manuelo couldn't bring himself to look into the other man's eyes.

"Why? I mean, let's be real, you aren't winning any beauty contests."

"Cawws... dhey like meye screams... dehy like meye belly whin it zangolotear."

"Zang - what now?"

"Zangolotear," his wife, Sra. Ortiz cut in, "it means to jiggle."

"Thank you," replied David, "So they like to watch your belly jiggle - zang-whatever - and they like the sounds of your screams, right?" Manuelo nodded silently, unable to say anything in that moment.

"Now these boys - excuse me - young men, they take their hard, rigid penises, dripping with precum... I'm assuming... and push them softly into your old, decrepit buttocks, correct?" Once again Manuelo shook his head before David continued, "they do this hard? They just jam them... their young, testosterone soaked penises... in as hard and as fast as they can and you scream for them the entire time?" Manuelo nodded his head while still avoiding eye contact with the lawyer. Raul sat by, helplessly watching his father having his trauma laid out for all to gawk at. He wished that he could have done something to stop the man, but he knew if he did, he'd be held in contempt. The naked Honduran looked over at the bailiff whose face with flooded with what appeared to be sadistic pleasure. It was then that Raul looked down and saw the man's pants had been tented and a dark shadowy stain had started bleeding through the fabric. David's questioning continued, "do they use any lubricant or something to make it easy for their stiff penises to go inside you?"

Manuelo looked to his wife, and then another man behind her got up, "I submit my services as a translator for the court." The man then crossed the room, approached the judges' stand, and presented a large note card to the judge.

The judge wrinkled his face up briefly, "if no one objects, AND you have appropriate documentation to back up your claims, I'll allow it. I want to get through this whole thing as quickly as possible. I have other things that I would like to do today."

"I have no objections to this," David replied.

"As long as his credentials are valid, I'm good," Tim announced.

The judge took the card that had all of his translator information attached to it from the hand of the translator. He looked it over, making sure that all of the numbers were filled in where they should be and that his license hadn't expired. He then handed the document back to the man before turning to the stenographer. "Let the record show," Judge Burger checked his watch, "that on Friday August 3rd, 2018 at 3:45 in the afternoon that this hearing received the translation assistance of one Mr. Steve Nowak." The courtroom stenographer typed up everything into the logs as the man put his card away. Steve was in every way a stereotypical looking Swede. He was born to immigrant parents from Sweden and was a tall drink of water at six feet and five inches tall. His eyes were the color of sapphires which invited you in, and ones that you'd get lost in. He wore a grey business suit with a white dress shirt and light brown shoes with slacks matching his jacket. Steve was thin without being gangly but by the same token he didn't have too much muscle to him; just enough for people to know that he kept fit by being a runner. His sun bleached curly blonde hair accented his fair pinkish skin and his kissable pink lips. There was something else that Raul noticed; something that no one else seemed to pick up on. Steve's gray slacks had a large tent to them with a wet spot forming at the tip. Raul was surprised by the fact that no one else had seen it, not even his own lawyer who was keen on these sorts of things... well that is to say no one reacted to this information. Steve elegantly maneuvered himself over next to Raul's father in the witness stand, and when he turned back, his wet spot had increased in size.

"Now that we have a proper translator, I shall repeat my earlier question," David resumed his line of questioning. "Do these alleged young men use any sort of lubricant when they shove their massive young penises into your old, decrepit buttocks?" Steve immediately went into translating what was asked by David word-for-word.

Manuelo nodded, "si."

"About how often do they do these alleged activities? Once, twice, three times... more?"

Manuelo leaned into his translator, promoting the blonde, who had been aiding him in understanding the questions, his first opportunity to respond on his behalf. "Mr. Ortiz states multiple times a day... too many to keep count."

"Interesting... interesting indeed. Ok, but surely these alleged provocative young men only put the tip of their penises inside, correct?" Manuelo shook his head before the lawyer continued with his mounting character assassination. "Oh so just half then, right?" Again the naked Latino shook his head. "So the whole thing goes in, correct? They shove the full length of their girthy, magnificent, masculine penises deep into your aged, dilapidated, sagging rectal cavity for their own sexual enjoyment?" Again Manuelo shamefully nodded his response after the translator repeated the question to him.

"So are we to believe that young men, in the prime of their lives, who could have intercourse with anyone, and with little to no effort I might add, would want someone as old and as haggard as you are?"

Steve translated the accusatory question once again before Manuelo replied, "si."

"Forgive me, but I find that more than hard to believe. I mean after all, when I was their age, I had posters of half naked super models and pop stars in my dorm room and NOT old, overweight men. So, tell me this, then: do you enjoy it when they engage in intercourse with you?"

Manuelo shook his head, "no."

"So you mean to tell me you do not enjoy it when they shove their hard, robust, fertile penises deep inside you; not at all?"

"Correct"

"You have never, EVER, become sexually aroused when they allegedly stick their hard, young penises into your butt? Not at all? Not a single, solitary time? Not even a little bit? Your own penis never has never become hard?"

"Jess - no - jess..."

"Which is it then? Do you get an erection when you engage in illicit sexual activities with them or not?"

It was then that Steve responded, once again, on behalf of Manuelo, after the older nudist whispered his response into the man's ear. "Mr. Ortiz says that he does get an erection in these scenarios, but he still doesn't enjoy the activities in question."

"Ok, but you don't ejaculate after or during the alleged sexual events do you?"

"Si, jeye dew," the old nudist felt an even greater shame wash over him as hot tears of degradation filled his eyes.

"So you mean to tell me that not only do sexy, athletic, virile young men, in the prime of their lives, engage in sexual activities with you, but that you also derive some amount of sexual pleasure from it?" Manuelo silently, but woefully nodded slowly. He felt humiliated; all his traumas were laid bare in the eyes of the public for all to know and judge.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of you all, but if I were engaging in sexual activities that I didn't enjoy in the slightest, I would not become erect. Furthermore, I for one would not ejaculate while engaging in said activities, or even afterwards. Therefore, I submit that Sr. Ortiz is not only lying about his sexual misconduct, but also about his son's indiscretions as well. In fact, I might go so far as to say that most of the people for the defense, if not everyone, were committing perjury on the stand today. I therefore submit that at the very least a shadow of a doubt does exist in my opposing counsel's case. I also submit that my client should be awarded the full rights, privileges, and amounts that are entitled to her."

Manuelo started sobbing uncontrollably, the feelings of shame and disgust flooding every part of his mind and body. He felt deeply disgraced from having his entire trauma promenantly displayed in front of not only the entire courtroom, but also his wife. What made it even worse was that the lawyer didn't believe a word of it, or so the man said. The truth was in reality that everyone in the courtroom knew that it was true, all of it... every last single word. In fact, they had seen it happen to others at some point in the past several months. Walking down the street, grocery shopping, standing in line at the bank, they had heard the shrieks of an old man being violated by a group of horny, virile young men. It was sort of a trend amongst certain circles of college aged lads to find the most repulsive (by conventional standards) old man and use him as their cum receptacle. Others were just outright cruel and sadistic, preying on those that they perceived to be feeble and weak to satiate their lust. Manuelo left the witness stand a broken man, blubbering and shaking with each step that he took. He sauntered off to the back of the courtroom to sit by himself and sob softly into his flabby chest. Raul wished that he could be with his father now more than anything to console him in his hour of need. However, he was still tethered to his chair not by any physical force, seen or unseen, but by societal constraints requiring him to remain where he was, or risk possibly losing his case. The translator soon joined him, his dick still tenting the man's slacks, while precum bled through the various layers of fabric. Steve went through the motions of consoling Raul's father as the fat blubbering mess wept into himself before turning to his wife. She had just sat down, holding his arm with hers in an effort to reassure him that everything would turn out fine. Steve's stain grew as he rubbed Manuelo's back with his long slender fingers.

It was Raul's turn to take the witness stand. "The defense would like to call Raul Ortiz to the stand," Tim announced. Raul got up, and approached the stand, keeping his sights on both his father and the bailiff as best as he could. As the bailiff approached the stand, Tony made a kssing face at the naked Honduran, his pants still wet from Sr. Ortiz's testimony.

"Do you sware to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," Tony asked while eyeing Raul's crotch.

"I do," Raul was still a bit leery of the roid enhanced beefcake and his intentions. The warm, soft, velvety cushion lovingly caressed his supple, soft skin sending shivers of pleasure throughout his body. His cock hardened almost instantly as he tried to reposisition himself in the chair. The shifting and gyration only made matters worse as bolts of erotic electricty zapped throughout his nervous system, ensuring his pole would not soften so long as he sat there.

"Is everything ok, Senor Ortiz," the judge asked, watching the man shift and struggle in the seat.

"Yeah, yeah hiss ju-ju-just fffffffine," Raul continued to squirm, his system filling with reproductive fluid. The pressure slowly crept up in levels of agony as he sat in the velvety, irritating chair. As Tim stood up and approached the naked Latino, Raul looked down at his irritated member. The thing throbbed and snarled at him, threatening him with an explosion the likes of which that he had never seen before. He longed to touch it, to pet it, to sooth its brutal savagery, but he knew that doing so would undermine his case. More than wanting to just pleasure himself, here, in full view of everyone, he wanted to win his case. Raul didn't want to let his wife win and get almost everything. It wasn't fair; it wasn't fair that he was raped, it wasn't fair that she saw him at his worst moment, it wasn't fair that he walked around naked all the time. Nothing about his situation... nay, his life... was fair. It was as if the whole world was literally against him; as if some unseen force was making it impossible to win. However the odds were stacked, one thing was clear: being forced into homoerotic sex was against his will. He didn't want to be men's plaything anymore than he wanted to kiss one. Raul just wanted to live his life free of sexual tyranny... but that wasn't in the cards for him.

"Sr. Ortiz... Sr. Ortiz... sir, did you hear my question," asked Tim.

"Uhhhhh, I'm sorry, what," Raul responded, "could you please repeat the question?"

"I asked if you have ever, in your entire life, ever thought of having sex with a man?"

"No... no, of course not; I'm not sexually attracted to members of my sex. That's preposterous! I'd never cheat on my wife with, least of all, another woman, or a man."

"Ok... ok... that's good. Is it true that your wife caught you mid coitus with a man then?"

"What! Nooooooo! Like I said, I'm straight - I like women! Beautiful, attractive, voluptuous, big breasted women; NOT men!"

"Ok then; tell me... why would your wife say that she caught you having sex with another man? Can you think of any reason?"

"Maybe she wanted my money all along? I don't - I honestly don't know why! I can't read her mind!"

"Ok so what exactly do you remember about the day in question?"

"I got to work, went down to hang out with a few of the other Blacklisters from my floor, and went back upstairs to check for messages from her. That's all!"

"So you don't remember being sexually assaulted by one of your workers? One Mr. Kevin Mathison? Correct?"

"No, no I don't recall that ever happening. Like I said, I was on my way back to my office to retrieve my phone so I could check for messages from Miranda. She called my name, I turned around, she slapped me, and walked away without any explanation. I was horrified; I was so embarrassed by her act. I still don't know what motivated her to do what she did."

"Very good; thank you... that will be all." Tim walked back to his table, "your witness," he smiled smugly.

David stood up, and approached the witness stand as Raul's member continued to strain, aching to be touched... to be loved... to release its white hot venom everywhere. "Sr. Ortiz... you are a Blacklister, correct," David stared straight into Raul's brown eyes.

"Well, yeah obviously..."

"And tell me, how has that affected your marriage?"

"It hasn't made it a walk in the park."

"So you'd say that it's put a strain on your marriage then, correct?"

"I'd say so... yeah..."

"Tell me then, what do your non-blacklisted coworkers say and/or think about you? Do they think you're hot?"

"Yeah... I guess so..."

"What sort of compliments do they give you?"

"They... uhhhh..." Raul shifted around in his seat, sending more waves erotic longings throughout his body.

"Well go on, you can tell us. It'll be our little secret."

"Ummm... they say, they say, that I have a great body and a gorgeous ass." Raul squirmed in his seat as the discomfort from the moment started to settle in.

"Go onnnn... what else do they say?"

"They say I'm a... aaaaa... I'm boner material... hardcore boner material on legs.' They tell me to shake [my] fat ass' frequently. They describe in lurid detail all of the things that want to do to me, all the positions that they want to take with me. They say that they want to `fuck the living daylights out of [me]."

"And how does that make you feel?"

"Dirty... less than human..."

"I see, I see... so when men pay you compliments you feel bad, correct?"

"They're not compliments! They're degrading objectifying statements!"

"Well, they sound like compliments to me... what about you, your honor?"

"OBJECTION..." Tim cried, "council is not examining the judge in this case!"

"Sustained," Judge Burger stated before turning his attention to David, "You're skating on thin ice with that last one. One more comment like that, and I'll throw your whole case out! Hear me?"

"Sorry your honor," David smiled coyly, "I just meant that these all sound like compliments to most people, is all. Now tell me, Sr. Ortiz, do you have any nicknames at work? Little pet names the guys like to call you."

Tim shook his head as Raul struggled to form the words in his mouth. "D-d-donkey dick," he finally spat it out after a full minute, "they call me `Donkey Dick."

"Now tell me, why do they call you that, I wonder?"

"Because..."

"Because why exactly?"

"Because my genitals are so enormous that they look like the belong on a donkey."

"Wow - that sounds like a compliment, if I ever heard one! You must be very popular then. Tell me, do they have beauty pageants at your office?"

"Yes," the shame and abject humility that Raul felt grew exponentially. He felt raw, exposed, vulnerable... his darkest secrets brought to light for all to see. His deepest shames were put on full display for judgement.

"Now tell me Sr. Ortiz, how often do they hold these beauty pageants?"

"Once..." Raul's voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry; come again!"

Raul spoke louder this time, "once a week."

"Really, once a week? Ok then, tell me, have you ever won one of your office's beauty pageants?"

"No..."

"I find that surprising; I would assume that with your massive genitals, you'd be a shoe in." A few people chuckled slightly as Judge Burger glared at them. "So tell me then, about how desperate are you to finally win one?"

"Objection," Tim called out again, "Speculation!"

"Sustained," the judge bellowed back.

"Let me rephrase the question: have you done anything - ANYTHING - at all to improve your chances at being selected to be the winner then," asked David. " Say... offer your body up to the judges so that you could win."

"Never..." came Raul's reply.

"Interesting indeed, so then answer me this, how does it feel to know that you haven't won any of these contests? That you may never win a contest? That you aren't the object of everyone's attention."

"I don't care..."

"If it were me, I would be pretty upset to know that I couldn't win something. I would do anything to achieve that status... to win. I'd sleep with whomever I needed to just ensure my victory. I submit, in fact, that you did just that. You slept with your coworker to ensure that you would win the next beauty pageant at your office just to have the bragging rights that you have been denied these past several months. The one thing that you didn't count on was your wife catching you in the act of the attempted bribe! That is why she is divorcing you NOW!" Raul wanted to break down, he wanted to cry out against this insanity, but he kept his cool and held his tongue. If he were to lose it right now, he would have sealed his fate at that exact moment.

"No," he calmly replied, "you're wrong."

David turned and huffed, "no further questions," he said as he returned to his seat. Raul dragged his heavy, cum swollen sack across the soft cushion of his seat. As he left the box, the bailiff immediately zeroed in on Raul's erect genitalia as it leaked acrid tears of disdainful spite. Raul felt like his testicles were twelve times their normal size as every step became an uphill battle for him to slog through. He wanted to jerk himself off... to purge his festering seed, and free himself of this awful burden. Every step, every footfall he made, was pure undiluted unspeakable hell as his gonads lashed out at him, punishing him for his gross negligence. Haggard and nearly broken, Raul reached his seat and sat down to see a trail of precum had formed in his wake. Once more agonizing pain surged throughout his body as his reproductive system filed its grievances with his behavior. As he sat upon the supple furry cushion that had been his chair for the majority of the hearing, he couldn't help but look down at his angry genitalia. He gazed into its singular gaping maw, and shuddered as he could feel its unholy, libidinous wrath radiate outward and up to him. Heavy tears of rage and fury seeped out his cock's gash, slithering down his morbidly obese nine and a half inches of unfettered testosterone laden hate. The naked Honduran wondered if anyone had seen what was happening to him. He then wondered if anyone would care if he were to touch it. Maybe... just maybe... if he gave it a lite pet, it might calm down. He looked back up to find that David had risen to his feet in order to give his closing statement.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the courtroom," David began, "your honor, we have heard multiple testimonies from the various, and sometimes colorful, witnesses over the past several hours today. We have heard from mothers and fathers, friends and family, and on a couple of occasions, from the Ortizes themselves. We have heard stories from the young and the old alike... but that's just it... all we have heard are stories. Works of magnificent calibers of fiction hiding the truth from our justice system. Works that undermine and twist the truth into new shapes to fit the agenda of Sr. Raul Ortiz and make him out to be the victim in this situation. So I ask you all: look deep... deep within yourselves and find the truth... the truth that my client was the victim of a massive cover-up for the past ten years. A lie perpetuated by her husband and furthered by his friends, family, and coworkers. Please do what's right: rule in her favor, thank you. God bless!" David sat back down in his chair, smiling mischievously like the fox that he was.

Tim got up... he smiled... he frowned... and then he smiled again. "Ladies and gentlemen of the courtroom... your honor, we have seen horrors that would drive a madman, sane and a sane man, mad. We have heard the testimonies of everyone from both sides of the Ortizes' family tree. We have also heard testimonies from their friends as well as the Ortizes themselves. All of which was given freely under the strict guidelines set up by our justice system. Yes, there was one man broken today and another who had his life ripped apart. However, at no point did we hear any actual lies... just wild speculation and hearsay. My client is innocent of his wife's wildly unfounded accusations. To that end, I urge you all, elect to rule in his favor and give him back what remains of his life. Thank you all for listening!"

Finally, the judge had a chance to make a statement, "well, this has been some hearing. It has been a bit of a wild ride and with the way things are going, I suspect that things will only get wilder. To that end, I'm issuing a one hour recess for lunch while we eat and for me to deliberate." He banged his gavel, "meet back here in one hour!" The judge got up, and walked out, taking documents that had been submitted as evidence during the hearing. The hour passed by as everyone left to go eat. Tim treated Raul by taking him to a nearby Blacklister focused restaurant for them to eat together. There he learned of Pepe, Raul's cousin, and his proclivity for white nerds while he and his client feasted upon what they each were allowed to eat. Meanwhile, Miranda and David separated for lunch, opting to contact others who weren't in the hearing. David called his wife and got updates about the day that she and their three children were having. He even sprinkled in a promise of coming home early that evening to join them for dinner as he was having a late lunch. Miranda called the sitter, making sure that her daughter had been picked up and was being cared for. It was the last ten minutes of the hour when everyone had gathered outside the doors to the courtroom. No one wanted to be late as they were afraid of it would make them look bad towards the judge. Raul sat on a wooden bench, his dick still straining towards him for release. He had been too busy sucking back meal drinks and talking about Pepe to attend to his primal yearnings. How he wished that he had taken the opportunity to pleasure himself during lunch. After all, Tim would have understood his choice in the matter and would've respected him in spite of it. The wooden doors to the courtroom were flung open and out popped Tony the bailiff who had come to collect this colorful bag of miscreants and their unhappy situation. His pants were still wet and tented despite the fact that the stain had not noticibly changed size.

Tony smiled, "Judge Burger will see you now," he said winking at Raul. The Latino shivered as he entered the courtroom along with the others. Everyone had returned to their previously occupied positions in the area when the judge entered the courtroom. "All rise for the honorable Judge Fred Burger," announced the hulking bailiff.

"Please be seated," instructed Judge Burger. Everyone returned to a sitting position as the robed man started speaking. "Now it seems to me that when two people fall in love and state 'til death do us part' it should stay that way. I will always applaud those who try to work out their petty differences. However, I am equally open to the possibility that one or both partners can enter into the agreement without fully realizing the implications of those words. Some even enter into that agreement with the intention of hiding things from the partner in question, be it man or woman. To that end, we humans created divorce to either escape those deceptions or other things that are much, much worse. That said..." Raul suddenly became aware of a minut detail that he had missed earlier: the bailiff wasn't near judge's position. He wasn't anywhere near the front of the room. Where had he gone? The naked Honduran's eyes darted around the courtroom, looking for the menace. "...I find in favour of the defense and -" just then, Raul felt a powerful force hold of his shoulders. The nudist felt his heart race and his stomach drop as he felt something large and wet stab him around his shoulder blades. He didn't have to look up to figure out who it was. He lifted his head back, trembling with fear, and found Tony Rogers, the bailiff, looking down at him, smiling mischievously. With one quick motion, Tony lifted Raul onto the defense's table and spun him around so that he was facing the hulking menace. Raul tried to push the steroid abuser away only to have his arm forcefully pinned to the table. Tony then undid his pants, allowing them to drop to the floor, and revealing one of the most monstrous cocks Raul ever had the misfortune of encountering. Raul's eyes widened as he looked on with abject horror: the damn thing must have been three times as thick as his was and just an inch or two longer.

The Latino screamed, "SOMEONE HELP ME! HE'S GOING TO RAPE ME!" Just then the judge stopped right before his gavel hit the wooden disc indicating his final ruling. Everyone gasped as they looked on with a mix of disdain and surprise as to what was happening literally right in front of them. "DON'T JUST SIT THERE, DO SOMETHING!"

"ORDER..." Judge Burger bellowed, "ORDER IN MY COURT!" He glared at the Blacklister as the man struggled to keep his rapist at bay. Tony shoved his victim's other arm down to the Blacklister's side as he leaned in to kiss Raul upon the lips. Raul felt a tendon in his right arm snap violently as it was forcefully lowered to above his head. He tried to headbutt his attacker, but only found failure and made the roid rager seethe with blinding fury. Raul's torso fell back as the rooom spun recklessly around him as if it was mocking him for his misdeed. Miranda gasped out of disgust as David looked on with elation; he was going to win, after all. He snapped his head back in the direction of the judge as he prepared to launch another volley of arguments.

"Your honor," he cried, "as you can plainly see, my colleague's client can't seem to restrain his libido, even when on the verge of victory in his own case."

"But - but -" Tim's eyes darted between his client as the oversized bailiff continued forcing himself upon his client and the judge in his seat.

"Mr. Shaw," the judge glared at Tim as the befuddled lawyer panicked. "Please restrain your client from engaging in sexual intercourse before I have made my ruling." Raul screamed out as Tony's massive beast ripped into his tight, unblemished rectum. Tim looked on in horror as he could do nothing to stop Tony in his endeavours. "I'll ask you once again," the judge repeated, "please have your client refrain from engaging in sexual activities at this time! Do not make me repeat myself, again!" Tony's hulking gob-stopper had fully entered into Raul's backside, forcing the man to turn colors. The Honduran was in so much pain that he could not even draw in breath as it was too mind-alteringly excruciating to do so. Raul was now mute and could do nothing as little-by-little the shadows melted in upon themselves. Right as he was about to pass out, a puff of air from Tony filled his lungs and jump-started his breathing. The naked Latino coughed and sputtered, choking on the air his body depended upon. Tony yanked hard, pulling out his rape tool and laughing as he watched the damaged Blacklister struggle to breathe.

David once again addressed the judge, "your honor... what else needs to be said about this matter at this time? Everyone here can clearly see that my client's soon-to-be ex-husband can't control his lustful urges! I once again request that you change your verdict, please! Justice must prevail or we undermine everything that our society holds near and dear!"

Judge Burger hated being told how to rule and though he was loathed to admit it, Mr. Wilson had a point. "You do make a valid point, counsel..." the judge replied. Once again Raul shrieked, begging for someone in the courtroom to stop his attacker from having his way with the Blacklister. Suddenly, another scream echoed off the walls of the courtroom. It was Manuelo; he was bent over one of the courtroom pews, and was being violated by the translator. Pain tore through the old man's body as the blonde shoved his exposed member deep into the gray haired Blacklister's orifice. Manuelo begged in Spanish to be let go as the man ruthlessly and fervently sodomized him. Both father and son were now pinned in place, screaming at the top of their lungs, begging for mercy from cruel, lust-crazed men who wanted them for their sexually alluring bodies. Over and over both attackers bucked their hips into their victims' backsides, ignoring their cries of pain. "...In the matter of Ortiz versus Ortiz..." the judge shouted, competing with the brutalization of the pair of Blacklisters.

"Your honor," Tim protested, interrupting the judge, "my client is being raped! What's happening to him is happening against his will! He doesn't want this!"

Judge Burger raised his hand, a look of nonchalance coming over him. "Be that as it may, he's still having sex in my courtroom... with a man no less. This act of raw sexuality only solidifies the case of the prosecution. It's not a legitimate rape; even if it were, the human male body has ways of stopping and preventing such acts from occurring. Additionally, if he didn't want what is happening to him, then he would just lie there and not make a sound. Seeing as how he can't stop crying out from the passion and lust of the event, I'm left with no alternative but to rule in favour of the prosecution." Judge Burger finally banged his gavel, "you are all free to go!" Miranda jumped out of her seat and hugged her lawyer from sheer joy.

"Your honor," Tim protested once more, "please reconsider! He doesn't want this! In fact, no Blacklister wants this - EVER!"

"Not another word Mr. Wilson, not another word. I've made my ruling and it WILL stand! If you continue to argue the matter, I'll be forced to hold you and your client both in contempt. Now, if you all will excuse me, I'm done for the day. I'm heading home."

Both Raul and his father were too busy being brutalized to have heard the verdict. Their own howls of agony drowned out everything else around them. They felt worthless, helpless, and emasculated by their aggressors as their love caverns were decimated. Over and over their rapists' cocks were violently shoved into their tight anuses while they could do nothing to stop the attacks. Steve rammed his dick deeper and deeper into Manuelo, forcing the old man to become compressed against the backside of the pew in front of them. As his chunky fat belly pressed further into the wood, Steve could feel a tightening sensation around his cock. This only sent him further into a sexual frenzy. Meanwhile, Raul tried to pull his legs off Tony's shoulders, only to find the roid enhanced bailiff would immediately toss them back up as both men had adopted a full-on missionary position. Both father and son felt hot burning tears of shame and humility cascading from their eyes as they fell further and further into a spiral of disgust and terror. Steve and Tony both kept telling them how their victims brought their rapes upon themsleves and if they didn't want to be violated, they should be less attractive. Tony snarled and rammed his cock harder in Raul's guts causing the whole table to shake uncontrollably. Two hours and seven explosive, heavy, testosterone soaked spooge sessions later and both men finished with their assault. They both pulled their pants up around their waists, slapped their victims on their ass cheeks, and left the room. Both victims remained motionless, leaving their rapists' spooge to trickle out of their broken used holes along with blood and bits of rectal tissue. They continued blubbering and shaking, feeling the weight of guilt crushing their respective souls. "Why am I like this," they both wondered, "am I nothing more than a piece of meat or worse, a toy, destined to be used sexually again and again for the rest of my days? Are my rapists right? Do I really bring this upon myself? I mean, if I didn't want to be violated I would be able to resist more." As Raul lay there, weeping into his injured arm, Tim came over, and tapped him lightly upon his shoulder, scaring him slightly.

"Raul," Tim insisted, "we have to go."

"No," Raul pulled away from the lawyer, being unable to stop himself. "No more, please no more! I'm sorry - just leave me alone! Please!"

"Raul, please listen to me - you have to go! More people will be in here soon, and they may see you as easy targets. We have to collect your dad, and get out of here. Come on!"

Raul nodded as he reluctantly rose to his feet, jizz still oozing from his battered hole. Every step was an excruciating exercise in hell, threatening him with further misfortune for having been so carelessly violated. He staggered over to where his dad still laid, and pulled at the man's arm. A low, mournful wail came from the older man as the fellow reacted to the external stimulation of another person's touch. Manuelo was barely in any position to fight back, let alone run from the scene. Instead, he leaned up against his son while the two hobbled around, cum dripping from them like the fat from a roasted chicken. They made their way out of the courtroom, following the lawyer, out the courthouse's double doors, and into the man's car. Rual made sure to secure his father before climbing into the passenger's seat and buckling himself in. Tim started the car, and the group drove off to Tim's place as Raul's [now] ex-wife had taken full control of their shared apartment. As Tim made his way back to his penthouse, he started to wonder if life would ever get better for any Blacklister ever again.

It had been three days, and although Raul had physically fully recovered, the psychological trauma was still deeply rooted in his memory. He had realized that he had lost his case when he awoke the next morning and was fully able to process what had happened. Tim was nice enough to cover for both him and his father as far as their respective jobs were concerned. The lawyer even let both parties remain in his residence until they felt "safe" enough to leave and reintergrate themselves with mainstream society. The only problem was that with each passing moment, Raul fell deeper and deeper into depression. He was beginning to think that there was no hope for him... nothing in life mattered to him anymore. What was the point? If he was nothing more than a sex toy fo others, why pretend to have a life at all? Nothing that Tim said seemed to help lift his spirits. The lawyer tried everything: distracting his client, giving him space, even offering him the brighter side of things... nothing. The harder Tim tried to help Raul, the farther the Blacklister sank into his void of depression. It was a phone call from his good friend Jeremy that helped lifted his spirits. Jeremy offered something that Tim could never give Raul: a perspective of another Blacklister.

"Hey man," Jeremy's voice came through crystal clear on Tim's smartphone. Raul's belongings, along with his smartphone, were still in a box that Tim had retrieved after Raul's wife had thrown out onto the front lawn of their apartment building. "So, I know things seem pretty bleak right now," Jeremy continued, "but don't let anything that happened get you down man. I promise you, it's not worth it; she's not worth it."

"What do you know," Raul snapped, "your wife never left you after you had been emasculated and dehumanized in a room full of people."

"True, I have never been married, let alone been in a relationship in years, but I have been through some pretty horrific things my self."

"Oh really? Like what?"

"Like being betrayed by someone I grew up with by having them brutally rape me for seven hours straight."

"Really? Who?"

"My cousin, man."

"Your cousin? When? How?"

"Yeah... it was a week after the laws went into effect and solid nutrients were outlawed. I had a family reunion at my grandparents' farm out in Minnesota. It was when we first got there, the whole family that is. Technically the day after everyone arrived when my older cousin Daryl on my dad's side invited me out to the barn under the pretense of talking about my status as a Blacklister so as not to upset the rest of the family. He talked for about twenty minutes about how he respected me and my full bodied nudity. I should have known something was up when he wouldn't look me in the eyes, but instead became fixated on my genitals. Daryl started telling me how attractive I was, and how lucky we were to have a Blacklister in the family. I tried to brush him off by thanking him when he leaned in for a kiss on my lips. I told him `no' and how I wasn't attracted to him or any other male in or out of the family."

"Well, that set him off," Jeremy continued, "and he knocks me to the ground, spits on me, and grabs me by the ankles as I try to escape. I try to push him away, but my fear took over and I either missed or wasn't strong enough cause the next thing I know, he's on top of me with his pants around his ankles. I scream, and beg and cry for him to let me go, but he just laughs and rams his massive stiff, leaky, unlubed cock into my tight, virginal butthole. I scream again as I feel like I am being ripped in half as he tares into my rectum, forcing his engorged member deeper and deeper into my guts. I tell him let me go' and `family doesn't do this to family,' but he ignores me and starts thrusting up into me. Over and over and over he keeps thrusting into me, getting a nice rhythm going as I start to cry. Fianlly after about forty-five minutes, he shoots his first wad into my busted backside. I mean, that shit filled me so much, I was afraid that I was gonna drown somehow. It leaked out my mishapen hole, and down onto the ground. After that, he pulled out, picked me up, and moved me to another place and position to repeat the process all over again. I was sodomized against hay bales, wooden rails, walls, and even on the back of a cow twice. By the time he had finished with me, there wasn't a place in that barn that I hadn't been violated at. I mean if you were to walk in there right now, and point at some random spot, I could tell you what position I was in while Daryl was raping me."

Raul was stunned; never had he heard anything so loathsome and despicable as having a family member use a Blacklister for sexual relief. "How," he stuttered as he formulated the words, "how did the rest of your family take it when you told them?"

"They didn't believe me," Jeremy replied with still the same bravado and tone as he had told the story. "They thought I had made the whole thing up as they said 'Daryl would never do that to a family member.' Even as my broken anus leaked to the horror of everyone who had seen me, they still accused me of making the whole thing up and that it was some random hobo that I had hooked up with."

"Hooked up with? You mean, they didn't even acknowledge that you were raped?"

"No man; they thought I went out to the barn to get my ass filled and my rocks off. They maintained that I was a willing participant in a sexual tryst with a stranger and that I was unwilling to control my own sexual urges. I was mocked, openly, for spreading my legs apart for any rough trade that would have me."

"Holy shit - how did it make you feel?"

"Aside from being hurt and betrayed by those who claimed to love me at one point? Not good... not good at all; I felt less than human, like I was no longer a real man, like I had made Daryl rape me by working him over into a sexual frenzy. For days after the incident, I refused to talk to him or anyone else for that matter. I spent the entire time in the guest bedroom watching movies on satellite as my family ate and loved and laughed together, while reminiscing about past memories. A few of the women checked in on me, and brought me meal shakes, but no one stayed with me for too long. They all seemed to be too afraid of being accused of being a rapist by me. Like I said, I spent that entire week in the guest bedroom too afraid of Daryl having his way with me again."

"Woooooow," again Raul was stunned. To have no one acknowledge what had happened, let alone that it did happen the way he described it, was mind blowing. To think he had gone through all of that in such a short amount of time was truly beyond all comprehension. It was distrubing to think that a family member could be that cruel, to be that lust driven, that he would force himself onto his own family member, was absolutely reprehensible. "How - how did you... ya know... bounce back? I mean, how did you get yourself out of your funk, or whatever?"

"Well, for starters I put up emotional barriers against my family... except my dad. He was at least willing to entertain the notion that I was violated, just not by Daryl. They all see Daryl as a good guy; the kind of guy who would NEVER hurt anyone."

"Okayyyyyy, but surely that wasn't enough to overcome that kind or level of trauma."

"You're right; I had to rationalize my suffering by realizing that it wasn't really my fault. I did nothing wrong, despite what others might tell me. So when I got back to KC I tried to reacquaint myself with life around me. I went out into the world, and did normal everyday stuff that wouldn't result in me being violated. It was a little touch-and-go for a while; grocery shopping was in and of itself a monumental task. Knowing at any moment some other male might come along and use me for sex before utlimtately disposing of me and moving on; it was harrowing. However with enough time and effort I got back to normal, or whatever we now define normal to be. I also realized that there were really only two options for me: suck it up, take it like a man by moving on or I could let it eat me up inside for the rest of my days. I don't need to tell you what choice I made."

"So you never felt broken or humiliated ever again?"

"No, no... I still get that way, but I just try to move on... even when it doesn't make sense to do so. I just suppress as best as I can and hope that I don't become so traumatized I can't even function. I still get unrelenting nightmares about being raped and gang raped on an almost nightly basis. I still wake up screaming in the middle of the night. I still frequently beat off throughout the day. It's just now I try not to let it get the best of me."

"Really?"

"Yeah man, I get nightmares all the time. It's just something you learn to live with. In fact, the nightmares only get more intense the further you go along. Getting raped all the time is very traumatizing."

"How so?"

"Well for starters, in your nightmares you no longer just see the images of you getting brutally sodomized repeatedly. You start to feel them... all of them! Every. Single. Time."

"That sounds so fucking intense! Too intense, actually!"

"Yeah man, it's bad enough that we get violated in real life, now we also get it in our dreams. Like last night, I dreamt that I was walking around in the mall, doing a little shopping. Then out of nowhere this group of shirtless roid raging white guys jump me! They knock me to the ground, and one of them shoves his huge, testosterone laden weeping cock into my virgin-tight innards, ripping me up from the inside out. Here's the weird part: each of their cocks are wrapped in rusty barbed wire. So there I am, in the middle of the mall, getting my ass reamed by a group of sex crazed, roid raging bodybuilders and everyone just starts laughing at me and making fun of me. They call me weak and pathetic and garbage as I scream my head off. In the dream, it feels like the gang rape lasts for hours... maybe days, but after the fifteenth load in me, I wake up and I'm back in my bed. God it was awful... just beyond brutal."

"Holy fuck, man! That's fucked up!"

"You wanna know what the worst part was?"

"What's that?"

"I felt everything! I felt their loads; I felt everyone's hateful jibes; I felt my screams; I even felt the barbed wire taring me up. All. Of. It!"

"Holy fucking shit, man! What - how - what - how are you not locked up in a psych ward babbling like an idiot!"

"Honestly, no idea; I just show up to work and live my life. Then, I go home and repeat daily. That's it - that's my life! That's going to be all our lives now that we live in a post Great Revelation world."

"So, what can we do about it? Can we fight back or something?"

"Not really; I mean a couple of groups tried to, but no one knows what happened to them. No one has heard from them in a while."

"Wow... just wow!"

"So, tell ya what - how about I take you out to this Blacklister bar out in OP? We get a few drinks in us, maybe meet some Blacklister-friendly ladies, and then hope we get lucky? Sound good?"

"Sure, I guess so..."

"And then, on Saturday, I'll take you to my support group."

"Support group? What kind of support group?"

"It's a support group for blacklisted rape survivors."

"Really? So how does that work? Who runs it?"

"It's run by this super friendly Non-Blacklister; you should meet him; you'd like him. He's really very nice! We meet about one a week and discuss our most traumatic rape sessions. You'd like it; it's super helpful!"

"I don't know man..."

"Listen, just show up for the first session, and if you don't find it helpful, you don't have to come back."

"Yeah, I guess, ok."

"Ok, great; in the meantime how about we go to the bar? Sound good?"

"Sure... when?"

"How about tonight? Say eight o'clock?"

"Yeah, ok, see you then." Plans made, the two hung up the phone and Raul took a nap. His afternoon was plagued with unrelenting nightmares of rape, cousins, and steroid users taking adavantage of him. One dream that he had found being gang raped repeatedly by men with muscles the size of his head. There were twelve of them, and each one was more savage and brutal than the last one. The dream started out benign enough: he was on his way to work when he passed by a group of construction workers who were busy repaving a parking lot outside of his job site. They started catcalling as he walked by, whooping and making whistling noises, while making very explicit comments about the size of his ass cheeks. It was when he didn't reciprocate the compliments with gratitude that they took offense. In their rage and anger, they knocked his soft, semi-shapeless body to the ground, and shoved his face into the warm concrete. They then took turns brutally sodomizing his virgin-tight anus, shoving beer-can thick, stiff, leaky cocks deep into his guts, shredding his intestines to bits. He screamed out over and over again as a group of men gathered to watch his humility, laughing and mocking him for being a slut, while blaming him for turning the rapists on to begin with. Raul could feel it all: their fat angry cocks, the hard warm concrete, their overpowering steroid inflated muscles. After they had their fill of his guts, and each had filled him with their third load, he woke up, sweat dripping off his naked virile flesh. Tim came over to the couch, half awake himself as he had been mapping too, and asked what had happened. Raul informed him of the nightmares, and went on to talk about how he might not be able to make it through the rest of his life like this.

"Raul," Tim replied, "you just gotta take it one day at a time. Every Blacklister will have to take it one day at a time. Maybe not even that... you'll have to live moment-to-moment. It'll get better; I'm sure of it. One day, you'll all get your clothes back, I hope."

"Thanks Tim," Raul was not as certain or hopeful as Tim was. He did, however, appreciate the lovely sentiment, regardless.

The sun had set, and Jeremy was at the door to pick up Raul and take him to the bar. Manuelo wasn't up to the task of going out as he was still a little shaken from being used as a living cum dump for a man who had pretended to be his friend. Anytime Raul or Tim tried to comfort him, he just shivered a little, and pulled away from them. Raul left the penthouse with the understanding that Tim would continue to be there for his father even if it meant just sitting by him all night. Raul followed Jeremy out to the red four door coup, and sat down in the passenger's seat. Although the cushions weren't as soft or velvety as his own car seats were, they were still just as sexually frustrating. Both he and Jeremy had boned up on the ride over to the bar out in the suburb. By the time they found a parking spot, both Blacklisters dicks were straining for relief, threatening them with small, quick flashes of lite pain. Raul knew that the pain would increase if it went ignored for too long. He hated beating off in full view of others, but knew that he would have to at some point or risk more pain, and possibly even madness. "Is there someplace that I can jack off safely," he asked the twink looking biracial fellow. Jeremy just ignored the question and continued onto the bar's entrance. Raul repeated the question as his friend held the double doors open. Once inside, Raul felt a bit overwhelmed with the amount of visual information that there was to take in.

The walls were cement with a dark teal paint job peeling off. They had been covered with various words, sentences and numbers, as though every patron to the establishment had left a piece of themselves in writing behind. The ground was covered with dingy, dirty small tiles all of them looking to have been a bleach white at one point, but had now been sullied from scuff marks and dried, caked on mud from the average working types. A single jukebox sat in the corner, blaring out a Mexican dance ditty from a group of men that Raul didn't immediately recognize. Pool cues hung from the wall nearest to the only pool table while two Blacklisters approached with erections so stiff that they intimidated anyone who got too close. Most of the Blacklisters in the bar were in fact rock hard, and dripping with precum. Despite the Blacklister heavy atmosphere, there were more than a few Non-Blacklisters in the mix. They seemed content to remain docile and non-confrontational, chatting it up with their nude colleagues and being all around nice guys. There were a few kneeling on the ground with their faces planted firmly in the cheeks of an equal number of men. This wasn't unwanted or against their will... the recipients seemed to be enjoying the acts of their "submissive" counterparts. The nudists would halt their conversations with one another and let out a small moan or soft "eek" of sexual gratification before continuing on with what they were talking about. Raul approached the large wooden bar, and sat on an open-faced chair, allowing not only for his hole to be exposed, but also his cum laden testicles to fall carelessly through. For the first time in a while the soft fabric of a chair didn't caress his testosterone soaked nuts, but only his thighs and the backs of his knees. A wave of pleasure made its way through his body, causing him to smile with delight. He looked around; Jeremy was on the other side of the room having two clothed frat boys suck on his exposed nipples. Raul thought briefly about approaching the group, but the look of erotic pleasure cemented on Jeremy's face and his twitching leaky erection stopped the Honduran from doing so.

The barkeep, a Blacklister himself, stood behind the bar, making a face of pure pleasure. He was of average height with a slightly athletic build to him. On top of his black hair was a peaches and cream colored baseball cap with its brim to the back, allowing a few stray hairs to pop out of its opening. He was classically handsome with a Roman-like nose and defined cheekbones and jawline. He was only forty years of age, but with a hint of athletic tone to his body. A nice set of shoulders were just below h,is average sized neck, giving him a less-than intimidating appearance. Two mid-sized pecs were dotted with dime sized, sharp, dark brown nipples. More than a hint of abdominal muscles decorated his midsection which were accented by the outline of a V-shape. At the crotch level was a thick bramble of obsidian black pubes. The top of a man's head could barely be seen by Raul as he leaned over to see the source of the barkeep's pleasure. The barkeep kept thrusting his hips forward and jamming his nine and a half inches of testosterone fueled fun deep into his cocksucker's warm, wet mouth. Two hard, semi-muscular legs held him upright, highlighting his bubbly butt cheeks. By contrast, the guy blowing the barkeep was a blonde non-blacklisted frat boy with all the stereotypical markings. He too had on a backwards brimmed baseball cap, but his was snow white, matching the up-turned collar polo shirt that he had on. His skin was tanned, and was offset by his dirt blonde hair. Raul couldn't see the kid's eyes as his face was still buried in the crotch of the barkeep and the young lad refused to remove it, even when the barkeep told him that he had to work. He just kept sliding his face back and forth, pleasuring the bar tender and ignoring the forty year old's protests. The twenty year old frat boy had on a pair of bright rose pink shorts held up by a brown leather strand-woven belt. Leather brown moccasins covered his feet and accented the dirt blonde hairs that covered his legs. Anytime the barkeep moved an inch, the frat boy would find a way to adjust his position that would allow him to keep his mouth locked on the older man's meat. "Hi," the nude man panted, "wel-well - oh god - welcommmmme to The - OH FUCK - Oasis! Wha-whuuhhht can I - oh jeeze, oh jeeze, oh sweet Jesus in heaven - can I get you?" The young lad just sat on his haunches, smoothly sucking away, ignoring everything else that might distract his endeavors. Raul looked at the bar tender after the man had briefly opened his eyes long enough to acknowledge the new presence in the room before returning to tidal waves of unimaginable erotic bliss. The Honduran wasn't sure what he wanted in that moment. The barkeep's moaning and panting was far too distracting to keep his thoughts organized. He just sat there and watched the pair of sex crazed maniacs go at it while his own Latino staff bubbled up with a longing of its own. The pair of fellows had made it increasingly difficult for Raul and his own horn swaggler to ignore. Instead, Raul's member became furious with him: furious over the fact that it wasn't lodged firmly in some young lad's mouth itself... being loved on until it exploded from joy in its new owner's oral cavity.

Raul snapped out of it, "nuh-nothing for me thanks. I have no money."

"Nonsense," came the response of a deeply baritone voice, "a handsome man such as yourself should never be without a drink in his hand." The guy sitting next to Raul spun around in his seat and looked straight into Raul's brown eyes. "I insist that you order a drink and that I pay for it."

"Ummmm, ok, but just so you know I'm straight."

"Yes, yes of course; I too am interested in the ladies myself. Some even call me quite the ladies' man." The young man extended his hand out to Raul, "hi, I'm Grant... Grant Anderson... and you are?"

"Raul," the nudist grabbed the lad's hand and shook it, "Raul Ortiz."

"Tell me Senor Ortiz, what brings you to this little hole-in-the-wall of a place on such a warm August night?" Grant was as handsome as he was smooth, perhaps even more so. His chiseled good looks made everyone who had ever had the pleasure of meeting him feel right at ease. He had dirty blonde hair that he had coiffed perfectly like some 1950s all star athlete that one would see from a show or movie set in or from that era. Two large U.S. football sized muscular arms protruded from his almost skin-tight powder pink polo. A pair of broad athletic shoulders sat atop his nineteen year old torso as the fabric from his shirt clung tightly to his frame. His skin glowed with the radiance of a bright summer's day having been tanned only deep enough to add to his beauty but not enough for someone to mistake him as a Blacklister. A large softened twelve inch long bulge could be seen pressed up against his billowy powder blue shorts. The thing looked almost impossibly thick and appeared as if it became erect, it would do some serious damage to Raul's smooth marshmallowy cheeks. Raul became nervous as he gazed into the frat boy's softened sausage, worried that at any moment it would spring to life and attack him.

"Well my wife and I divorced a few days ago, and my friend wanted to lift my spirits by taking me out." At this point Grant had the barkeep pour a shot of tequila for Raul so as to help out the situation. Raul took the shot, and downed it in one gulp.

"Really," Grant smiled politely at the nude Honduran. "Well that sounds awful. Why did she do that? Is it because you no longer wear any clothes?"

"Nawwww; no, that's not it. She was fine with that aspect of my life. I was violently raped a couple of times and that led to the divorce."

Grant's smile faded slightly, "that sounds horrible. She divorced you because you were sexually violated?"

"Yeah, she said that I was cheating on her and we went to court over it. I pled my case, and the judge was going to rule in my favor when the steroid enhanced bailiff started brutally sodmizing me in front of everyone." Grant had another shot poured for Raul, who in turn slammed it back. A third shot happened shortly before Grant formulated his response.

"Wow man, that sucks. How did that make you feel?"

"It made me feel... like I wasn't a man anymore... like I was no longer human. He just threw me up on top of that wooden table in the courtroom, and just - just shoved his massive hateful prick deep into my guts. He slam fucked me so hard that I was afraid that I had massive internal damage. I bled for what must've been seven hours straight. Over and over and over he kept thrusting into me as I... as I screamed and called out for help. No one, not even my own lawyer, could, or even would, stop him. I felt humiliated... ashamed for having been turned into his sex puppet." Grant motioned for the bar tender to leave the bottle, and this time the frat boy just poured another shot full into the empty glass. Raul downed the fourth blast like there was no tomorrow.

"Holy shit! What position did he have you in?"

"Missionary - the whole time I was in missionary. I tried to, ya know, fight back, but he did that thing, ya know?"

"He overpowered you?"

Yeah overpomer - overpaul - whatever - me, snapped my tendon like a baby loooooog. hic He was too uhhh, what's that word again?"

"You mean strong?"

"Yeah, that's it! The pain was so - that word - that it felt like I was being to-to-to-torn apart. I lost all sense offfffff reality; my lawyer was still there after that man - that ass - finished with me. Lawyer was nice enough to help both me and my dad." Another glass of tequila went down the Blacklister's throat as Grant sat by with baited breath.

"Your dad? You mean he raped your dad too?"

"Whhhaaaaaattttt? No, no, no the court approved translator - he did that. He just bent my father over the whatchacallit and went to town on him. He blasted my dad's ASS, so, foocking, hard!"

"Fuck bro!" Grant shook his head, "is your dad alright?"

"He recovered physically from his injuries, buuuuut, but, but, the trauma broke him. He hasn't mooooved for," Raul held up four fingers before dropping one, "three days straight. My lawyer... he's, he's, - what's he doing again?"

"He's taking care of your dad?"

"Shitcha - yeaaaahhhhhhh! He's taking care of your dad! Wait - who's taking care of dad?"

"You said that your lawyer is taking care of your dad."

"Oh right, right! He's being taken care of. He's having trouble eating ASSSS!" Raul laughed at his seemingly obvious mistake. He then reached for the shot glass and took another drink.

"Shit, man!"

"Yeah; there were times that I felt that I'd be better off dead."

"Wow, man, just... wow! So what stopped you? From killing yourself I mean!"

"My friend, his name is Jeremy," Raul did a mocking prissy gesture like he had on a shirt and was holding it up. "He told me that it, I, it wasn't worth it; whatever it was."

"Wow, good for him and good for you for not giving in. So all of that caused you and your wife to become divorced?"

"No, nope, like I said, she saw me being raped... by, bye, baby... by one of my coworkers."

"Tell me about that; you've got me invested."

"Well there's this guy at work, named Kevin... he's a big meany head! He, he... uhhhhh... what was I sayin'?"

"You were telling me about being raped."

"Right, right, right, he raped me for a full hour - THAT ASS! Over and over and over, he jammed his penis deeeeeeeeeep into me! ASS!"

"I'm so sorry that happened to you!" Grant poured another drink for Raul who immediately tossed it back. Just as Grant was about to pour another, a loud moan ripped through the air and snagged both men's attention. Raul looked over to the pool table to find Jeremy bent over as one of the frat boys had mounted him. Raul watched as the young man bucked his hips up into the nudist, snorting and snarling as passion took over. The other frat boy stood to one side and was stroking his own leaky turgid pole as he watched the pair go at it. Jeremy wasn't in any visible discomfort and in fact seemed to be enjoying the fuck session. The first frat boy was going as hard as he could while Jeremy's whole body shook from the force of the fuck. The fraternity boy that was busy fucking Jeremy was five foot and nine inches of pure erotic masculinty. He had auburn red hair that was hidden under a stark white baseball cap with its brim towards the back of his neck. Emblazoned on it were the Greek letters of kappa, theta, and kappa in black stitchwork, most likely made by some machine in Taiwan or China. The guy wore a seafoam green polo with his collar pushed down, exposing his mid-sized neck. His flesh was a nice, plump cream color dotted with a smattering of freckles which offset his baby blue eyes. His broad shoulders harmonized well with his baseball sized biceps, giving him a strong, athletic appearance. A pair of bleach white shorts had fallen to the floor as he rammed his nine and a half inch, beer bottle thick dick deep into the mocha brown ass that was Jeremy's backdoor entrance. Finally a pair of sturdy legs topped with hairy, apple firm butt cheeks completed the kid's look as he nailed Jeremy's hide to the table. His companion, however, was nice and well tanned.

The other frat boy had curly mop top chestnut brown hair with hazel eyes. His skin was tanned but still wasn't Blacklister material, and he had a lurid presence to him: one that stank of male musk saturated with testosterone. He too wore a polo tee with an upturned collar, but unlike the others, his was powdered blue. He looked a little fresh in the face at eighteen years of age but had a tawdry appearance with more muscles than any eighteen year old should have. His lips were soft, supple, and [dare anyone say] pouty while his eyebrows were thick and neatly trimmed. His seafoam green shorts lay at his ankles, revealing his nine and a half inches of unapologetic testosterone powered masculinity. Two fulsome, meaty testicles clung to a patch of chestnut brown curly pubes.The frat boy was held aloft by a pair of sturdy legs that were accented by a firm, round bubble butt. He had biceps the size of softballs that one could interpret as threatening if it wasn't for the fact that they were connected to a pair of meaty paws furiously stroking a turgid pole. The kid moaned and panted as he went to town on himself while watching his buddy fuck the living daylights out of Jeremy. Jeremy meanwhile had a look of pure erotic pleasure plastered across his face while he was busy having his guts rearranged by the first nameless frat boy. The boy leaned over, and Jeremy did his best to lock lips with his top, twisting himself as best as he could. The curly headed youth then repositioned himself in a way that would allow for him to stuff his pecker down the gullet of their blacklisted toy. Curly head let loose a loud guttural moan as Jeremy began delightfully sucking off his top's friend. Each slam brought a loud happy moan of pure lust, emphasising the sensations that Jeremy felt, even though his mouth was stuffed with veal sausage. Raul watched the event unfold in front of him, laughing heartily, and finding great joy in what he perceived to be the irony of the situation.

Raul turned to pour himself a drink, only to find his glass already full. Grant had been kind enough to top off his shot glass. The youth smiled at the thirty-eight year old Blacklister as he watched Raul down the next shot. It wasn't long before Raul noticed something rather peculiar: it had a bitter taste to it. The room started spinning out of control as shadows began to congeal and clump together. It was getting dark, "hey, who turn-" Raul fell to the ground, unable to do anything but lay on the dingy, cold tile that was on the floor of the bar.

Raul opened his eyes; the room was fuzzy and out of focus. His eyes darted wildly about as he tried to get his bearings. What happened? Where was he? Was he naked? Then it all came back: the Blacklist Laws, the divorce, the multiple counts of rape, all of it. His head was pounding; the pain was too intense for him. He looked around again, this time his vision focused. A single light bulb hung from what looked like a cord attached to some wooden slats that dangled above him. He tried to raise his arms and legs, but found that they were weighted with something outside his field of vision. The naked Latino then proceeded to raise himself up only to fail and remember that his arms and legs had been weighed down. As beads of sweat began to form, he tried to free himself by thrashing wildly about. "Hello," he called out after he gave up, "hello; is anyone there? Hello?" No response; he shifted his head up, looking behind him as best he could, only to find large cement bricks stacked on top of one another. A cement wall? Then it hit him: he was in a basement! It was most likely someone's basement somewhere nearby. Nearby to what or where? Was he near his place? The bar? His lawyer's place? His lawyer's place - his dad! His dad was hiding in Tim's apartment, recovering from his trauma of being psychologically ripped apart before being violently sodomized by the courtroom translator. He remembered the two of them being brutally raped by two of the men who worked for the courts. They used him and his father to satisfy their own sexual cravings, their own beastly urges. He remembered what it felt like in that moment, both physically and mentally. How awful he felt for having been turned into a toy - a sex toy. The nudist remembered how humiliating it was to only be seen as nothing more than a warm hole, nay a cock sleeve, for others to ram their own cruel, sadistic beasts of lust into. He hated how he could never find sufficient strength nor courage to fight back. Maybe if he had tried fighting Kevin, or even the bailiff, harder then he wouldn't be in this predicament right now. Maybe he didn't really want to be free. Maybe he enjoyed it all: being raped, being sexually harassed, being seen not as a person, but just as a means to an end... easily replaceable. When Raul thought about it, really what did it matter? It could easily have happened to anyone. After all, a Blacklister exists only to be used and sexually abused.

What possible sort of resistance could he mount, could any of them mount, against an entire nation? What sort of hope could they possibly have to win against such a daunting force? He started to cry; not out of frustration or hopelessness, but out of pain. A deep, emotional pain that he and his son (if he ever were to have one) would have to endure for the rest of their days. Always looking over their shoulder, never being able to let their guard down for a second, anyone and everyone would be gunning for them, constantly the second they were of age. They would both miss out on the simple things in life: warm clothes on a cold day, fashion statements, clothing trends, having people that didn't want to see them bent over with a rock hard dick in their backside. There it was again: male on male sex. That was at the heart of it all: the pain, the woe, the suffering, the hopelessness. Raul was nothing more than an outlet for sex. "Don't cry big daddy," the voice cut through his depression, "don't cry. I want you to be happy and to know that I love you." The voice was close, and somehow familiar at the same time. Raul heard the sounds of approaching footsteps moving closer and closer to him. He couldn't yet see the face, the source of the voice. "In fact we all do." Raul's eyes widened with horror as he saw who it was. There beneath the pale dim light of the solitary bulb was Grant's smile. It was his face, his eyes, looking back at the approaching middle-aged Blacklister.

"Wha-" the question got stuck in Raul's craw like a broken bird which had its wings clipped. "What do you want from me? Who is 'we?"

"Well, me and the boys think you're something special. Something that we've been looking for... for quite a long time now."

"Like what? A sacrifice to your demon cult?"

Grant laughed, "what - no! Why... what gave you that impression?"

"The fact that you have me tied up for starters. Then there's this whole thing... it looks like some sort of basement from a horror movie I once saw in which a group of guys sacrifice this girl to a demon that they worshipped."

"Really? You really think we want to sacrifice you?" Raul fervently nodded before Grant continued, "that's silly! Besides, are you a girl?"

Raul wrinkled his nose from offense, "no, no I'm not! Then again, maybe you don't need a girl, but a guy."

"True... but if we wanted to sacrifice you we would have done it by now. Do you really think that you'd have awoken and not be dead if that was the case?"

"Yeah... I guess; so what exactly is it that you want with me?"

"Well, you see the thing is that I and a lot of the other guys here are very attracted to older men. With the exception of Jonesy, who has two dads, none of us have a father figure in our lives."

"Ok," Raul's heart began to race once again, "so why do you need me?"

"Well, after I put roofies in your drink and took you back to the frat house, I showed you off to all of the bros. They all thought you were pretty hot, so we decided to keep you as the official house dad."

"And you tied me up becaaaaause...?"

"Well, we didn't want you to run off, now did we. At least not until you heard our proposal."

"What proposal might that be?"

"To remain at our place and be our house dad."

"You keep saying house dad like I should know what that is, but I don't. What exactly is that? What does that entail?"

"Well, you'd live with us, and of course we would feed you and take care of you, and in exchange we would have sex with you as payment for living with us."

"Uhhhhh, no thanks; I'm straight. I only have sex with women. Now, please let me go."

"Ohhhh, that's too bad; well, you can't say that we didn't try."

Raul became excited, "does that mean that you will let me go, then?"

"What? Noooo - whatever gave you that impression?"

"Well, I - uhhhhh... ummmm..."

"Are you serious? Do you really think we would allow someone as sexy and as hot as you go once we got him? We were gonna keep you either way!"

"Then why did you ask me if I wanted to stay?"

"Oh that's simple: we wanted to know if the shackles were really necessary; for the record, they are. Now how about we spend some quality father/son time and get to know each other better, hmmmm?" Grant dropped his pants revealing his huge twelve inches of pure veiny masculine excitement that were located between his legs. Much to the chagrin of Raul, the thing was as thick as the Blacklister's wrist. Raul swallowed down his fear and disgust as he prepared to be raped by the frat boy. This was his life now: rape toy to a house full of sex crazed frat boys. He screamed as he felt Grant's gift tare into his backside for the first of many times to come. Test