Day 12. Getting with the program
Themes include fist punching, rubber, humiliation and domination. Average reading time: 7 minutes.
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Time has become something of a blur. The days are merging into one and I haven't had the time or energy to keep this diary up. Life has become one long rolling road of the dreaded machine room, circuit training and extreme fisting sessions. I can't keep up.
Today was something different though... Carl told me that he was disappointed that I was shying away from his punches and still wasn't using my cunt to truly ride his fists like the pro-hole he said I should be by now. He felt that it was time I was cured' and that he'd booked me in to have a special appointment with Sig. I had no idea who or what Sig was, just that I had to show up in fuck room 5 for an all day conversion' session.
Jesus. Sig turned out to be a fucking man mountain. 6' 5" of black muscle and the largest fists I have ever seen on a man. Honestly, small children could have used them as climbing frames. Large adults could have used them as dinner plates! They were fucking enormous.
Sig stood by a large platform that stood about 3' off the ground. Next to him was one of the School's standard open lube buckets. It was obvious that this was where he wanted me. He was dressed in a black rubber catsuit, whose shine and tightness seemed designed to accentuate the power in his upper body and his mammoth hands. I was utterly naked in comparison, just a jock and my ever present cock cage and plug harness.
He beckoned me towards him and I haltingly came near. No matter that my hole had taken a lot of punishment over the last couple of weeks I felt that I had good reason to be cautious. As I moved closer he picked something up from the platform and threw it towards me, saying "here, you'll need this, bitch." I caught it and turned the item over in my hands: it was a black and red chest harness made out of thick rubber. I knew what a harness was, however, I had never worn one before and I was confused as to why now. Still I put the harness on, the rubber feeling good across my chest (which was definitely beginning to feel bigger from all my circuit sessions, one good side effect I guess).
Sig told me to climb onto the platform doggy style. I had played in this position enough times that I knew to arch my back and present my ass diligently, no matter how little I was looking forward to being `converted'. Everything about this set-up had felt ominous and - goddamn it - I hate it when I'm proved right.
In seconds the stretching plug had been ripped out of my hole and discarded on the floor. Even before it had finished rolling away one of Sig's hands had taken a firm hold of the back of my chest harness. I immediately understood why he'd given me this piece of gear: his powerful grip would totally prevent me from pulling forward and escaping his hands. But what fucking hands though!
BAM! Sig's giant right fist punched straight into my cunt, no warning, no prep, just an all out attack from the rear. He was relentless, no matter how much I struggled his strength overcame me. His left hand on the harness held me secure, whilst his right hand punched me hard. I cried out, I shouted, I pleaded... none of it made a difference. Sig explained that he'd been a heavyweight boxer in a previous life, renowned for his accuracy and the speed of his fists. He'd been a title contender until one day his anger had got the better of him and he'd punched an opponent too hard. The resulting brain damage was a huge scandal, even more so that people said Sig was known to have such precise fists that he must have done it on purpose. Sig was finished in boxing, so this was his new sport. Punching cunts. Said that he took pride in being able to hit the same spot, over and over again, all with the stamina of a professional athlete at the height of his fitness.
My hole was being truly wrecked, his clenched fists punching in and out countless times. However, just on the point of delirium, the abuse suddenly stopped and my hole felt crushingly empty. I heard a familiar voice - it was Marcus, the attendant who had looked after me the first few days - telling Sig that he was needed outside. Sig left but told me not to relax as he would be back soon to finish the job.
I collapsed on the bench. Sig had punched all the strength and stamina out of me, and I hated to think what the state of my backside was. It was then that I realised Marcus was still in the room. He was behind me, studying my rear. "Jesus Christ man, you have got some sweet cunt action going on! I honestly believe your gape is exactly the same shape as big Sig's fists! Fucking A!!"
I was totally crushed and in no mood to listen or reply. Right now all I could care about was my pulsating pussy that was desperately trying to return to some degree of normality.
Marcus slowly moved around to the front of the bench to talk to me directly. As he walked he obviously looked at my body and then said "I see you're still wearing your cock cage, that's good. I had a feeling it would make all the difference. I'm slightly worried that I may have misplaced the key, but don't worry, I'm sure it will turn up..."
Fucking hell. Right now I honestly didn't give a fuck about my locked cock, but if it hadn't of been for Marcus then I wouldn't even be in this fucking mess. I couldn't help but groan.
"Still resisting eh? What did I tell you back when you were chosen? The School knows what's best for you. It's time you got on board with the program kid" he sneered.
"I can't Marcus, I shouldn't be here. This is all a fucking mistake. I don't deserve this... I want out, I can't go on."
Marcus wasn't having any of it. "You want out? Halfway through your training? What good would you be to anyone? A foot in both doors but neither side complete? No one needs half a slut Bobby. You've got to keep going to be useful... And from what I've heard you've got all the makings of a damn fine hole, eh pussyboicunt?"
"Don't call me that Marcus, please. That's not who I am" I plaintively replied.
"I'll be the judge of that bitch. Let me take a closer look at your cunt and confirm whether I'm right..."
With that he walked back to my ass. I could feel him poking and prodding my pussy, and then using both of his hands to spread my ass cheeks wide. It wasn't long before he delivered his verdict.
"You see, when a male asshole is fucked and fisted enough, the shape and texture of it starts to change. A deep trench like opening is formed, surrounded by swollen, distended ass lips that actually look like cunt lips. Instead of being puckered tight, the opening turns into a sloppy gash that's always ready for use. There's no doubt about it Bobby, that's exactly what I'm seeing in front of me. You've developed a cunt like opening that's never going to change or go back. The only thing it can do is get bigger and more needy. Anyone who looks at your asshole is going to know exactly the kind of slut you really are!
Now, push back for me, show me your rosebud." Marcus demanded. I had been force fed enough fisting porn by now that I knew exactly what he meant. I didn't want to though. Showing him the red, meaty ripples of my inner arse would only confirm what he was saying. I really would be a fisting hole.
Marcus didn't let me resist. Suddenly my right ass cheek was alive with fire - Marcus had slapped me hard. "I said, show me your rosebud, bitch!" he shouted. I didn't have the energy to fight him, so I gently pushed back...
"Jesus Christ! I swear it's a miracle how far you've come in such a short period of time. That's one of the most beautiful roses I've seen in a long time. You really are a pussyboicunt!"
I relaxed my hole and slumped my head. I murmured something about him only seeing what he wanted to see. He was quick to reject me. "Bullshit Bobby! What I see is the result of countless hours of hard work and expert attention from Trent, Jay, Carl and everyone who's looked after you at the School. Jesus, you should be happy at the amount of time they've given over to your training! Don't believe me? Here, take a look at this..."
He flicked something on his phone and in seconds the TV screens in the room were playing a 3D visualisation of someone's hole. My hole. It can only have been my files from the cunt imaging system that was fitted as standard into the enema nozzles and stretching plugs. CiS for short, it was constantly scanning my hole to measure my clutch erosion, and keep a 3D record for prosperity.
However, this was the first time I had seen my file in over a week. The screens played an animation of my cunt slowly being smashed since my arrival at the School. From a puckered tight boyhole to the wanton wreck in front of me now... I was mesmerised and couldn't keep my eyes off the screen. I didn't want to admit it, but there was beauty in it's destruction. It was so damn big. At times it looked like a tunnel that was built to take a truck, at others a fleshy, malleable trench that simply begged for more attention.
"You see Bobby, you should be fucking proud. Look how much your hole has changed! We all see your potential, why can't you?" Marcus left this question hanging in the air.
I tried one last time, one last desperate plea. I cried out that I never wanted this, that I didn't want to be a cunt!
Marcus shook his head in despair. "Well fuck you then kid. I've tried to help but you simply won't help yourself. Whatever you want it doesn't change that soon you're going to be so hungry for fist that you won't be able to imagine life without it. You'll be empty and incomplete without something inside of you - you'll need to be used every day like clockwork. Seriously kid, you need to change your act and man up. Nobody's heard of a pussyboicunt that isn't insatiable for fist. That would be like having the sun without the heat..."
Marcus sighed once last time. "And I've got to warn you, Bobby. If your attitude doesn't change soon then you're going to find yourself in front of the punishment committee again, and they won't be so gentle on you this time. If you thought pulling a fuck train was bad, you seriously don't want to know how bad a fist train can be."
He came back round to the front of the bench and cupped my chin in one hand. He raised my head to look into his eyes and said "Come on Bobby... you're almost halfway through. I know you can do it. Isn't it about time you start enjoying yourself, eh?" With that he half smiled and left the room.
Fuck. FUCK! My head was in turmoil. Surely he couldn't be right? Was it actually time to enjoy myself? I can't deny that I'm sick of resisting the program. And I'm fed up of feeling guilty of the moments when pleasure does totally take over my body and I enjoy myself... Why the fuck should I feel guilt? Sure, this wasn't what I imagined - nobody could imagine this! - but maybe it wasn't such a bad thing?
Look at all the things that I had achieved. There can't be that many guys out there who could take Carl's giant dick first time out... or that many guys my age who could successfully pull a train with 121 loads? And how about the giant toys I was able to take, let alone being fisted just eight days after having sex for the first time?! Looking at it like that, I should be fucking proud of what I've done.
Slowly I reassessed all of my feelings. I couldn't deny that Marcus was right too. A lot of guys had put a lot of effort into training me. Surely that had to mean something? Carl especially. I mean he really cared for me, right? And he'd never do anything that wasn't in my best interests... Christ, maybe they're all right. If I'm being permanently changed, then why the fuck am I resisting? It's fucking futile. All of this `keeping control of my mind and not becoming a fist whore' just sounds whack.
It was like a siren going off in my head. I need to be proud of my cunt. I need to embrace the program and stop ignoring the pleasure centre my hole has slowly become.
It was time to go forwards, not back. I held my head high and pushed my ass back proudly, ready for Sig to return and start punching my cunt again. Bring it on!
Next: Bobby has an illicit encounter with big-dicked Jay...
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