Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Our Papa, Our Pimp By Antonio Green antoniogreen@writeme.com

   M+/b+, prostitution, anal, oral, ws, nc, forced, cbt, bdsm, enema
(incidental)

   This story is entirely fiction.  It will contain scenes of sexual acts
between men and boys and between boys and boys, some rough and/or abusive.
It will also contain some scenes involving urination, If reading this type
of story is illegal where you reside, or if you are under the age of
majority where you reside, or if anything in this story offends you DO NOT
READ THIS STORY.

   However, if you enjoy reading a well-written story of this type and it's
legal to do so, enjoy!

   One more thing: Please do NOT print this story out on a public computer
(like in the library).  If you do, take it with you!

   Synopsis: Bothers Brayden (12) and Riley (9) "help" their papa Bill
Allred (30s) and uncle Tony Allred improve their quality of life through
prostitution.  The boys are popular with their clients because they look
much younger than their ages, perhaps by design.  Brayden and Riley are not
usually thrilled with their activities.  In fact, they frequently hate
them. But a boy's got to do what a boy's got to do, especially when forced
by a sadistic father.
In this chapter, Brayden has another flashback to when he was almost 9
and has his first session with customers while at the Scout House. 
Warning: This chapter contains scenes of bondage, CBT, and violence. 

Enjoy!

   Chapter 5: Earning My Next Rank

   From Chapter 4

   My black god shifts Little Fuck around and his hot river of gold boy
gold sexy piss gold sprays into my mouth and then my eyes.  They burn. 
Taste good.  I'm pissing again too.  And my dink starts shattering into a
million pieces and I'm jerking wildly in my straps.  Pissing and cumming
and cumming and pissing and screaming in pain in my shoulders and legs and
screaming in joy at how I feel and all the big cocks the men have out ready
to...

   Next thing I know is that nasty smelling stuff from the time before is
burning inside my nose and I'm awake again.

   "Try to stay with us, Fuck Scout Brayden," Scout Master Chris is saying
from a ladder that puts him at my height.  "You're going to experience a
lot this afternoon, and we don't want you to miss a bloody second of it. 
Okay?"

   I know he wants me to speak.  My throat is tight and all I can do is
squeak.  So I nod my head.  Madly.  Crazily.

   "That's good, Brayden," he whispers.  "Because the fun is just about to
start."

   Now on to Chapter 5

   "What happened?" I ask Scout Master Chris, still foggy.  Still hanging
by my hands and stretched out by my legs.  My dink still sticking up toward
my chin.  I don't think it'll ever go down.  Ever again.

   Scout Master Chris leans in really close.  He licks sweat off my face
like I've seen mama cats doing with their kittens.

   "You had an orgasm, honey," he said softly.  It was the first time he'd
ever called me that.  The first time he'd ever been gentle with me.  "A
powerful one.  It knocked you out."

   "You're going to get a lot more today," he continued.  "But not all of
them will feel good.  Some of them -- and some of what you're going to feel
today -- will be awful for you.  Go with it, Brayden.  You're a good Scout,
a good boy and a strong boy.  You'll learn to love everything you
experience today.  Maybe not right away.  But you'll learn to need it. 
Like my own little ball-less sweetheart boy, Taylor.

   "You know he really loves you.  Loved you when he first saw us rape your
virgin ass.  He couldn't stop talking about you.  Every time we fucked him.
Every time we tortured his useless balls or his freaky cock.  He wants you
to love him too.  He wants you to know what he loves.  To feel what he
feels.  That's why you're here.  Why we're going to make the next five
hours as rough and painful as you can take.  And then, when you can't take
any more, we'll do it some more."

   I shiver hearing what he's saying.  But thinking about Taylor and how he
says he loves me, that makes me warm up again.  Warm up.  That's the only
way I can explain it.  I'm getting warmer in my tummy, in my dink, in my
rear end.

   Scout Master Chris presses his mouth against mine and pushes his tongue
inside.  His tongue is thick and firm.  It feels almost like Uncle Tony's
cock.  It feels around inside, touching each tooth, pushing against the
roof of my mouth, pushing against the hangy down thing in back.  Now my
mouth is warm and hungry just like my tummy and dinky dink and pooper hole
and WAY inside my poop tube.  Way deep inside.

   "I, too, love you, Brayden.  Regardless of what happens today, never
forget that I love you like you were Taylor's little brother.  My own son."

   Scout Master Chris steps down from the ladder and nods to the big black
man.  He steps forward, grabs my tight ball sack, and turns around.  He's
pulling on me as he spins around, making me howl.

   "Boys," he says, "it's time to show us your beautiful, horny bodies. 
Out of your uniforms now!"

   He lets go my sack and I quiet down.  Panting, I get to watch the three
boys -- the kid I call Little Fuck, the big boy called Dom Scout David, and
the other one.  I hadn't paid much attention to the other one.  But as he
dances out of his shirt, I see that he's really amazing looking.  He's not
that tall.  Taller than me though.  There's a big wet spot on his khaki
pants.  Not precum.  I can tell he's dribbled himself.  That's what Riley
and me call it when we have to pee real bad and it dribbles out on its own
cuz we can't hold it.

   Little Fuck and Dom Scout David are just stripping like they're getting
ready for a shower.  Pee Boy -- that's what I call him in my brain -- he's
dancing and spinning and acting totally goofy and fucking fucking sexy. 
His shirts and shoes and socks.  All stripped off and tossed away.  He
grabs his crotch and rubs it hard.  Real hard.  Then he squinches up his
face a little.  He pulls his hands away from his crotch.  They're glisteny
and wet.  The pee spot on his Scout shorts is bigger.  Way bigger.  He
licks his hand.  The spot grows a little more.

   He pulls off his khaki pants, tosses them to the big, gorgeous, sexy
black man.  The boy has no underwear so his four inch beauty pops right
out. He doesn't have any skin on the end.  The tip is blue purple and
pointy looking.  The whole thing's kind of thick looking and points
straight forward like an arrow.  Perfect!  Not sticking up along his tummy
like Riley's, Taylor's, and mine do.

   I'll admit to you that I really like boys' dicks.  I haven't seen a lot
of them.  Just Riley's, a couple of guys at school, and Taylor's freaky
one. And now all three of the other Scouts' dicks.  So all together I've
seen maybe eight other boys' dicks and the only one that looks like mine is
Riley's -- a smaller version of mine, at least.  But I've seen enough that
it seems boys' dicks pretty much all seem to look different.  So, I know
something's wrong with me cuz I love `em all the dicks I've seen so far,
even Taylor's messed up one.

   But Pee Boy's is the best.  By far.

   So Pee Boys squeezing his dick real tight and dancing around -- not the
sexy dance he did before, but what we call at school the "pee-pee" dance.
In fact, he's even squirted a little out before he squeezed tight.  I'm
pretty sure it was pee and not sperm stuff.  Too watery, but maybe it was.

   This sounds weird, I know, but I'm hanging here, trying to lick it even
though he's way down there and I'm up here hanging, my arms aching.  My
butthole's on fire inside wanting something big in it.  My own dink super
hard and crying to be touched.

   Pee Boy sees me licking the air, trying to get at his dick.  He smiles
really sweet at me, and next thing I know he's climbing the ladder.  When
he's high enough so that his dick is pointing right at my face, I see he's
got a few hairs there.  Blond, soft looking.  I try to lean forward and
suck him right in, but pain shoots through my shoulders when I do.

   "Don't do that, Brayden," he says.  He knows my name!  Fucking-A!  "I
been there, too.  We all been.  I know it hurts like having a fucking
burning knife stabbed in your shoulders.  Relax.  Let me do all the work.
Enjoy this.  It'll be the last fucking thing you do enjoy all day."

   He leans forward enough so that his dick tip touches my lips and I kiss
it then lick it.

   "Oh that feels so good, Brayden.  I got something special for you I bet
you'll like."

   He straightens up, his spike pointing right at my face.  I think I know
what he's going to do.  I hope he will.  Pray he will.  Grabbing his dick
he lets it roll.  A fast, fat stream of really rank piss.  Like he's been
holding it for a long time.  Like something he's been eating made it taste
bad.  Like maybe the drugs.

   Right at my eyes.  It burns so bad...so good.  Then in my gaping open
mouth.  It tastes as bad -- no worse -- than it smells.  Really bitter. 
Maybe from all the stuff they give us to make us feel sexy.  I love it.  I
love the stanky taste, the horrible smell, the fact that it's from inside
him.  My Pee Boy.  He's flooding my mouth.  I can't swallow fast enough to
keep up with him.  Piss bubbles out of my mouth, out my nose, all over my
chin and face.

   He aims his spewing dick higher up.  Splashes my hair.  My eyes again.
The stinging is almost more than I can take.  But I take it because I love
him.  I love his piss.  I love his
cocklet...dicklet...pricklet...peepee...weewee...hose...willy...winky...pin
ky.

   I'm chanting these words these nasty words to describe his penis when I
feel his tongue against my face licking licking licking licking until the
piss is gone and all that remains is a sticky spit and saliva.

   "Turn around, Pee Boy," I sing to him.  "I want to lick you back there.
You know.  Where you poop."

   "My name's Donnie, sweet, horny Brayden.  I'll let you lick me back
there, but I'm sorry.  It might not be very clean.  They didn't hose me out
like they probably did you.  After I'm done with you and have a nap, I
gotta go with the man who likes it really dirty."

   "Donnie." My Pee Boy's name Is Donnie.  He called me sweet.  Horny. 
Sweet and horny.  He turns around on the stepladder.  Pulls his cheeks
apart.  He's right.  It's dirty back there.  His crack is red and smeared
with brown.  I can tell he hasn't wiped for the last few times he pooped.
His hole is red, too.  It's really puffy and bruised.  My hole looks like
that -- bruised, puffy, and red -- after Papa and Uncle Tony have had their
way with me back there.  Oh yeah, it was just like that after my induction.

   It's not just the look of Donnie's hole and crack that make my mouth
drool.  It's the smell.  The brown streaks and smears give off a strong
poopy smell.  And I love it.

   He looks back and tells me, "Don't lick too much off.  I know you like
it.  I can just tell.  My next guy likes it too.  He likes to do that for
me.  And he tips real well if I play dirty with him."

   I don't know if I can hold back.  Donnie pushes his butt crack right
against my mouth.  I lick once.  I lick twice.  He's better tasting even
than Riley.

   "That's enough good times for you guys," Scoutmaster Chris yells.  "Time
for the paying customers to get their fun."

   Donnie turns back around, kisses my lips -- and they gotta be kinda
messy -- and presses his tongue into my mouth for a quick, loving French.

   "I love you, Brayden.  We all do.  We all know it's kinda hard at first.
But I think you're really gonna like it once you get used to it.  We all
do."

   The big fat man just about yanks Donnie off the ladder.  He's completely
naked now.  I look around.  So's everyone else.  Naked.  Even the Scout
Masters.  When'd that happen?

   The big, fat man kind of wobbles up the stepladder.  He's really hairy.
He looks like a bear with gray hair.  I think I should be disgusted by this
guy.  I'm not.  I guess it's all the stuff I've taken.  He looks funny. 
And not very sexy.  But I really want him to touch me, to play with me, to
use me, to rape me, to make me his.  I don't get it.  What's wrong with me?

   I look up and down his body.  I can see his cock.  It's hidden by his
big belly except when I look really hard.  I can see the big -- big really,
really big purple of his cock tip.  Cock tip -- I should call it what Papa
and Uncle Tony tell me to call it.  A cockhead.  A fat, juicy, dripping
cockhead.  He sees me looking, and he pulls his belly up showing me his
cock.  It's not very long.  Maybe a couple of inches longer than Donnie's.
But fuck it's the fattest cock I've ever seen.  Even bigger then my
beautiful, black man.

   "My friends call it the boy destroyer," he says.  "And I'm going to
destroy your shitty, faggoty ass before the night's over."

   He reaches out and grabs my dink and balls.  I watch as he wraps a funny
looking leather thing around the very base of my dink.  I can't see what is
doing, but it fucking hurts.  I feel him pulling on my balls and fiddling
with them.  Then they get wrapped up really tight.  My balls are pushed
apart by something thin and tight.  I look down.  I still have a boner.  I
don't think it's ever going to go down.  But everything down there looks
like it's wrapped up in a dog harness.  I can see my little tiny balls
separated by a thin leather strap.

   "It's called ball stretcher, faggot.  Do you like the way it feels?"

   I shake my head wildly no.  The next thing I know is searing hot pain
crashing through my lower parts.  He's pulling on me.  Down there.

   "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," I yell.  He yanks harder.

   "Scum sucking pig," he says yanking even harder.  "You are to call me by
my name, `Mr.  Jones, sir.' If you don't, I'm going to rip these useless,
little peas right off your faggot body.  And I'll eat them for dinner."

   "Yes sir, Mr.  Jones, sir.  I'm sorry.  I like it.  I like it a lot. 
Please don't do it anymore."

   He laughs.  "Do you know why it's called a ball stretcher?"

   I shake my head no.

   He doesn't say a word.  He reaches down and one of the other men hands
him something.  I can't see it.  He still pulling on my balls but not as
hard.  I can feel him fiddling with them.  Then he loosens his tight grip,
and I feel tremendous relief.  They still hurt trapped in what he called a
ball stretcher, but not so much as before.  I can feel him lifting them up
a bit, just a little bit.  He holds my wrapped up balls up so they don't
feel so bad anymore.  The other man hands him something again.  It's one of
those things they used to blowing our noses.  He puts it to my nose.

   "You liked this before.  It's the same stuff only a little different. 
It doesn't have any Cialis in it this time.  You got enough in you so as
you'll be hard until you're 30.  But it does have something like Ecstasy
only better.  You like that, don't you, boy?"

   I nod wildly cuz I fucking love that stuff.

   "And it's got amphetamines that'll keep you awake so you can `enjoy' all
the fun.  But here's the fun part.  It's got something special in it that
makes you feel things super well.  You're going to feel everything we do to
you about 50 times more than you would normally."

   He blows the stuff and my nose.  I didn't used to like stuff in my nose,
but this stuff that they've given me I really do like.

   He holds my balls up for what seems like 5 hours or maybe 5 seconds.  My
head starts to expand like it's going to explode.  My little dink feels
like it's growing 10 feet long and is burning up needing to get whacked
off. All the stuff that went up my nose runs all over me.  Makes me feel
like one huge horn dog that needs fucking and sucking and jacking and
wanking and raping.  I tingle all over.  I feel everything super hard.  The
pain in my shoulders and my hips and my hands and my feet feel like fire
burning through my muscles.  I almost can't bear it.  But at the same time
it feels so wonderful.

   While my head was exploding, my big, beautiful black hunk has rolled
another tall ladder behind me.  I can feel him playing with my cheeks. 
Poking his finger at my hole.  I know I'm clean back there.  Papa and Uncle
Tony made sure I was after they cleaned me out.  I want to be clean for
him. I don't know why, but I do.

   Then from someplace far away I hear myself shrieking, screaming,
howling, pleading, begging.  The pain in my balls is unbearable.  Just
about the time the drugs he'd blown into my nose had filled me up, he drops
my balls.  When he'd been fiddling with them, he'd attached a really heavy
weight to them.  He'd just dropped the weight.  It feels like my balls are
going to be ripped off.  And it hurts so fucking much that I wish they
would rip off.

   "I thought you'd like that," he laughs.  "And I think you'll love this."

   Next thing I know he's got his hand wrapped around my little dink. 
There's something cold and hard and metal feeling poking at my pee hole.  I
can barely focus.  He's got this long, metal rod, and he's tickling my pee
hole with it.  Then he stops.  Looks me right in my bleary eyes.

   "Oh no," he says.  "I don't think you'd like just a plain old vanilla
sounding.  We've got something special for you.  Don't we guys?"

   My big, beautiful black hunk hands him a small bottle.  Mr.  Jones
unscrews the cap, dips the metal rod in, and holds it up to my eyes.  It's
coated in a red liquid but I can smell.  It smells hot, very, very hot. 
Like when Papa makes me drink Tabasco sauce for punishment or just for fun.
His fun, not mine.  Only this smells much, much hotter.

   "I don't suppose an ignorant fuck like you would know about ghost
peppers.  They're the hottest peppers in the world.  And you, you ignorant,
ugly twat, are about to find out just how fucking hot they are."

   He squeezes the tip of my dink.  Dips the metal rod back into the
bottle, and pushes a tiny bit into my pee hole.  It doesn't take long for
the burning to start.  Just right at the tip at first.  Just a tingle. 
Then a warmth.  Then all fucking burning hell seers right inside the tip. I
scream.  That's all he needs to shove more of the rod into my dink.

   I've read the word "agony" in some of the books I've read.  I thought it
meant just lots of pain.  Now I really know what agony means.  My dink is
burning up from the inside out all the way down to my bladder.  My dink, my
bladder, my balls are all on fire.  Just when it can't get any worse, my
beautiful, black hunk of a man rams his huge cock right up my asshole.  It
feels like he did it dry, like the one time Papa was too drunk to lube
himself before he took me on the living room floor.  The pain would have
been enough to knock me out, but compared to what I'm feeling in my dink,
it's hardly nothing.

   He's fucking me wildly, making me swing as I hang.  Making my arms and
legs feel like they're being stretched and ripped out of their sockets. 
The swinging makes the rod fuck in and out of my dink, stabbing into my
bladder.  Every time the rod hits inside my bladder, I feel piss shoot out
around it.  You'd think the piss would wash away some of the burning.  It
just makes it worse.  I try to run away inside my head, but the stuff they
gave me won't let me.  Even if I did, I know that bring me back.  I simply
want that black ass hole of a prick who's raping me to fuck me so hard that
I rip apart and die.

   Then my ass fucker slows his pace and the fat man in front moves down
the ladder.

   Now the other customer climbs up in front of me.  I'm swinging at a slow
steady pace, the weights on my balls hitting against my legs and stretching
my sack and balls unmercifully.  My new tormentor is middle-aged and
balding.  He sneers at me.  I can barely see him through the red haze of
pain.  He slaps me to get my attention.  It doesn't work.  I can barely
feel it.  So with one hand he yanks even harder on my poor tortured balls
and with the other rams the rod in so deep that I think it's going to poke
through my bladder.  He's got my attention now.

   He holds up four wires with those little small clippy things at the
ends. He's also got a small gray box with dials and knobs on it.

   "You know what this is?" he asks.  He doesn't wait for an answer because
I can't answer.  I'm screaming too much.  "It's your ticket to hell."

   He clips two clippy things on my nipples.  He laughs.  Then he clips one
to the metal rod that's rammed down my dink.  The next one -- it goes onto
my ball sack.  I yowl with the new pain.

   "Yell all you want, it's only going to get worse.  Welcome to hell."

   He laughs again then twists one of the knobs a little bit.  A new
sensation wracks my body.  I twist and twitch and jerk.  The black man
fucking me shoves really hard.  The shock stops as fast as it started.

   "Wow!  I really felt that one," my raper says and punches even deeper
into my ass hole.  "Juice it up more.  Let's see if it makes a difference
to me, too."

   The whole world is red.  Fiery, burning, stretching, electric red.  I
hear the dial being turned again.  Only this time the surge is higher,
longer.  I feel like my head's going to explode.

   "Fucking shock the fucking shit out of him," my rapist yells as loud as
I am.  He's jerking around, too, just like me.

   The shocks get stronger.  Longer.  Pulsing.  Then something happens. 
The red that engulfs me fades slowly to pink.  Pink to deep blue.  I start
cumming in the middle of the shocks.  Cumming hard.  Violently.  Even
though I was well washed out earlier, my bowels loosen and I feel a wetness
ooze out my hole.

   Deep blue fades to yellow.  Piss shoots from my dink.  My rapist is no
longer raping me.  He's my lover making love to me.  He's jerking with
every shock that runs through me.  Runs through him.  He's jerking and
shooting his sperms deep, deep, deep inside my gut.  Deeper than I've ever
been spermed before.  He's sperming so hard it's spattering on my face, on
my chest and tummy.

   A scream cuts through the yellow haze.  Loosens the haze, wipes it away.

   "Fuck me!  Fuck me please fuck me don't stop keep fucking me!" a distant
voice yells.  I look out to the huge room around me for the first time in
what feels like years.  Scout Master Chris is standing two feet away.  He
holds Little Fuck up in the air, his huge cock shoved deep in the little
Scout's poo hole.  Fucking as hard as I'm being fucked.  The voice begging
to be fucked keeps pleading.  It isn't Little Fuck.  His mouth is gaping
wide but no words come out.  Isn't him.

   Scout Master Tim's cock is rammed into Dom Scout David.  Fat Mr.  Jones
pounds his boy destroyer in and out of Taylor.  Scout Master Nick is
slamming Donnie.  None of them are yelling.  Who can it be?

   The yelling turns to singing.

   Fuck my shit hole

   Fuck it deep

   Hurt my dickie

   Make me weep

   Fuck me.  Fuck me

   Fuck me hard

   Fuck me.  Fuck me

   Fuck me hard



   Pound me

   Slam me

   Make me scream

   Fill me Papa

   With your cream.

   I recognize the high, soprano boy voice.  I recognize the song.  I've
sung it to my Papa every time he's used my boy hole.

   Sometime -- I don't know when -- the shocks stop.  My black lover is
nuzzling my neck.  Kissing it.  Chewing on it.

   He whispers in my ear, "Mr.  Jones loves you, boy.  Do you like Mr. 
Jones' big, black cock up your little fuck hole?"

   Mr.  Jones?  I thought the fat man was Mr.  Jones.  Something gooey
hangs across my left eye.  I look down.  Cum -- drippy, gooey cum and lots
of it -- drips down my chest and tummy.  The man in front of me pants,
catches his breath.

   My black lover sees what I'm looking at and laughs.

   "Mr.  Jones really spermed you good, didn't he?  He never fucks boys. 
He likes hurting them and then cumming on them."

   Another Mr.  Jones?  I get it.  I get it.  Then warmth turning to wet
heat flows deep into my gut.  It's coming from the beautiful cock plowing
inside me.  Mr.  Jones, my lover, my fucker, my rapist, is pissing inside
me.  Only Riley before.  I'm bloating as the flow doesn't ever stop.  It's
the hottest enema I've ever had.  I know I can't hold it.  I know I'm going
to spray all over my lover.  That scares me.  Thrills me.  I shiver once,
cramp like I have to take the biggest poo ever, start dry cumming once
again...and explode.  I can hear the piss splashing on the floor.  My Mr.
Jones starts humping.  Pissing.  Fucking.  Then as he shouts, cumming in me
once again.

   "I'm going to breed you, you little cunt.  I'm going to make little
black babies deep inside your shitty, faggy asshole!"

   All the while chewing on my neck.  Biting my ears.  Fucking my red, raw
hole.  Kissing me all over my back.

   Then blackness.

   I wake up on a bed.  Scout Master Chris and Mr.  Jones -- my lover Mr.
Jones -- are stroking my head gently.  Mr.  Jones leans down, plants his
full rich lips against mine, kisses them.  Pushes his tongue into my mouth.
Full, thick, snakelike tongue winding around my mouth...feeling my teeth,
stabbing deep into the back.  He hocks deep in his throat.  Still locked to
my lips with his, he spits a sticky, snotty, loogie into my mouth.  It
tastes of snot, marijuana, alcohol, all the drugs we've been taking...and
love.  We swap the slimy mass back-and-forth.  He adds to it.  I'm
swallowing his spit and saliva as fast as he can fill my mouth with it. 
But I can't get enough.  I want more.

   Scout Master Chris is licking my balls.  He's licking my dink.  He slips
my pathetic, nail-hard 2 inches into his mouth.  He starts sucking me.  He
lets go, looks at me, pulls my Mr.  Jones away.

   Then he spits at my face.

   "I love you, you perverted little fuck.  We all do.  The boys.  Your
clients.  Your Scout Masters.  To show you how much we love you, we're
going to mark you."

   He spits again.  Mr.  Jones -- my Mr.  Jones -- spits on my face, too.
Right in my eyes.  Mr.  Jones -- the fat Mr.  Jones with the boy destroyer
walks up and he, too, spits on my face once.  He hocks deep into his
throat. I open my mouth and he spits in there.  Then each boy stands around
me and spits again and again on my body and my face and my dink.  Then the
Scoutmasters join in.  It's raining spit, and I don't have an umbrella.  I
love it.  I'm their little spit slave.

   Then my wonderful, big black rapist stands at the foot of the bed and
lifts his huge hose.  It's as hard as mine but so much bigger.  I think I
know what's next.  I pray.  I want it bad.  The spitting's stopped.  I look
around.  Everyone, man and boy and Taylor too, has his dick, his cock, his
dink, his prick, his boy fucker, his penis, his whatever the fuck you want
to call his most important part in his hand.  Pointing at me.  I watch my
Mr.  Jones' pee hole closely.  It quivers and opens slightly.  Oh fuck! 
Here it comes.

   I don't know how long I'd been out, but Mr.  Jones' piss flows like a
cannon.  How can he have any left after filling my shitter so full?  It
splashes against my chest then he aims higher.  The piss burns my eyes.  I
open my mouth like a little bird, and he gives me what I want.  It had
stopped raining spit.  But now I'm being flooded by boy piss, by man piss,
and I want it all.  I want them to mark me.  I taste different flavors as
one by one they each piss into my mouth.

   Little Fuck -- Markie -- climbs on top of me, His butt right in my face.
He starts licking the piss off my body.  I see his puffy, bruised boy pussy
flex.  A puff of fetid gas escapes his hole.  It's so nasty, so poopy
smelling.  I wish I could eat it.

   As he's licking, Markie lifts my legs.  Fat Mr.  Jones climbs between
them.  He leans as close as his fat belly will allow.  And rams his boy
destroyer all the way into my hole.  I don't think there is another screen
left inside me, but I manage to squeak it out.

   Over the next 4 hours, each of us boys gets our balls, our dicks, and
our ass holes tortured by the clients.  The Scoutmasters film, watch, and
help out when needed.  By the time it's over, I can't walk.  None of us
can. We're too sore in front and in back and too worn-out.

   Right before Papa and Uncle Tony come to collect me, Scoutmaster Chris
gives me my new rank patch.  I'm now a CBT Scout, he tells me.  The patch
has an embroidered, bloody dick on it.  Cool!

   He also gives us boys an injection.  He explains that the drugs they'd
given us could be addictive.  The shot and a little bottle of pills he
gives us will keep that from happening.

   "The Boy Sluts of America," he explains, "wants horny, fuckable, boy
pussies.  We don't want drug addled dopeheads.  You should only use what we
gave you today on Scout activities.  It's okay if your fathers or uncles
give you Ecstasy...once in a while.  Cialis or Viagra you can have any time
you want.  But the other stuff, stay away that shit from unless I say it's
okay."

   Papa and Uncle Tony arrive and Scoutmaster Chris gives Papa a huge stack
of money.  Uncle Tony carries me out to the car.  I'm asleep before he gets
me there.

   The movie of me and my second trip to the Scout House comes to an end.
Just then Riley walks into the basement playroom.  He's wearing a blue Cub
Scout uniform.  It's different from the one I got to wear when I first
joined BSA.  This one looks just like a real Cub Scout uniform.  Papa
tosses me a legit khaki Scout shirt.  There are real ranks and badges on
it. Gone are the ranks I worked so hard to earn.

   "What's going on?" I ask Papa.

   "You're going to get Riley started as a Boy Slut Scout," he tells me. 
"Only it's going to be a little different than you got."

   I'm scared.  For the first time since my second trip to the Scout House,
I'm scared for me...and especially for Riley.