WILD PUPS SALE
- CODY: STRIPPED & SCARED
I like to write stories about shy boys being made to strip down. But I've never before written a character like the gymnast Cody -- shy because he's underdeveloped for 18 and terribly humiliated to have people see the size of his small penis. In many ways he is the opposite of football player Russell. (Don't despair there is more from Russell coming up.)
By Master Redbeard for comments or compliments r -- e -- d -- b -- e -- a -- r -- d -- e -- d -- s -- f at y a h o o dot com
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- CODY: STRIPPED & SCARED
I always tried to hide myself in the locker room. Sure, I was proud of how tight my body was, fat-free with cut abs. But I was always small for my age. I turned 18 but was still only 5'4". This served me well in gymnastics and I had won statewide titles. But gymnastics wasn't like football in high school. None of the kids in school even knew we had a gymnastics team, and none of them knew I had won championships.
In the locker room I would try my best not to shower with the guys. I'd make some excuse about why I would go home to shower. When I couldn't avoid the locker room showers, I would wrap myself in a towel before peeling down my briefs and then take the end showerhead so I could face the wall.
It was embarrassing being one of the last guys to get hair around my small penis. Other boys made fun of me because of my height and size. If they saw my underdeveloped dick they would only laugh harder and louder.
So you could imagine how horrified I was when I had to strip in front of the slave court. I was shivering all over when I peeled down my red boxerbriefs, and my dick sprang up fully stiff against my tummy -- being nervous and scared always made my dick hard. My hands were forced behind me so my nakedness and my erection were both totally exposed.
I heard the judge say, "Do we have documentation? Are we certain this little one is 18 and legal?" I heard giggling from some of my classmates and I was certain they were laughing at what the judge had said, no doubt directed toward me. The judge explained something about collecting sperm samples and the next thing I knew there was a big old man next to me who looked a little familiar.
There weren't very large crowds for gymnastics meets, and there were a few older men I'd regularly see in the stands cheering us on. I had naively figured these men were just fans of gymnastics, but one of the assistant coaches told me these were most likely gay men who enjoyed looking at our fit young bodies in the skimpy outfits we wore. This old guy who had been assigned to milk my cock was one of those "gymnastics fans."
He pressed his large clothed body against my nude slim one and I could smell his musk. I could also smell the alcohol on his breath as his mouth was right beside my face. His right hand began massaging my hard dick playfully as his left hand moved all over my smooth skin. His lips went to my ear as he whispered, "I been watching you doing gymnastics since you started middle school, little boy." I shivered all over because of the creepiness in the way he called me "little boy" even though I was 18.
"I remember the first time I saw you do a headstand, your hairless legs stretched up in the air and then you spread your legs. I came in my pants right in the stands seeing how long you could hold that pose, thinking about how nice it would be if you were my slaveboy and had to hold that pose while your master filled your tight little pucker."
He was breathing hard and fast into my ear and his hand was moving equally fast up and down my erection. "I love the very concept of boys' gymnastics, little boy. Take the cutest, small, hard-bodied lads and teach them to display themselves and to hold the sort of difficult physical poses you'd want from hot nasty sex toys. If I could afford to buy you, Cody, I'd have you take all those poses with my fat hairy cock up your adorable little ass."
The man's nastiness and dirty talk was freaking me out. And yet his monologue, whispered into my ear, made my cock jump in his hand and start to ooze sperm. I opened my eyes and saw another man kneeling in front of me with a bowl to catch my jizz. I looked around and blushed even deeper red as the audience pointed at me, some laughed, some gave polite applause. The old guy licked my excess spunk off his fingers.
Everything after that was a blur. Saturday morning I awoke in a cage with the other two indentured school jocks in adjoining cages. I tried to hide my simmering resentment for Russell and Wally. They were popular jocks who played popular sports and had girls following them around school. I was just some pipsqueak and nobody at school even knew about my gymnastics championships. So I had gotten involved with their prank, thinking that maybe they would accept me as part of their group. That would go down as the biggest mistake of my life.
A guard brought underwear for each of us to put on. Wally was given his white briefs and Russell his plaid boxer shorts, the underpants they'd been wearing the day before when the judge had forced us to strip. But the guard brought me a pair of cartoon superhero underpants. I held them up and softly said, "Excuse me, sir... um, I think you brought me the wrong...."
Before I could go further, the guard grabbed me around by the middle and bent me over. Then he smacked my ass ten times with a small paddle. The first smack didn't hurt too badly, but by the time he got to number five my butt cheeks were really stinging. By the tenth smack on my small ass I was bawling. He pushed me to the floor, tossed the Spiderman briefs on my face and said, "Put these on, slaveboy. And you better learn to follow orders."
I was shackled to a platform right in the front window of the Gaytown Slave Hall. Because of the prostate stimulator, my dick was fully stiff and pointing toward my left hip inside the colorful underpants. I saw people outside the window pointing and laughing at all three of us. I looked over the other two school jocks --Wally was 5'10" with strong legs and good muscle development on his arms and chest; Russell was 6'3" with the kind of impressive chest and thick arms you'd expect in a football quarterback. They looked like young men, or at least high school boys on the verge of becoming young men. When I saw myself in one of the mirrors, I was humiliated to see that I looked like a small boy.
A tall skinny man with a girly manner slid his hand up and down my inner thigh as he spoke to some other men: "Of course the Gaytown Slave Hall is a Bodoni family subsidiary and so we follow all the rules and conventions of our fine family traditions. We would never think of selling any merchandise that did not conform to age of full use rules. In this state, of course, that's 18."
"What about your Las Vegas branch?" The man who asked that question stood behind me so I couldn't see him.
Mr. Bodoni pulled himself up to his full height and said, "In our Las Vegas branch we follow the laws as set by Clark County. Just as we do at our Florida branches, and as we would do if New York City decides to lower its age of indenture. In fact I just checked out two boys this morning I'm hoping to send to one of our Florida branches."
The group of men all chuckled. The effeminate man's long fingers went into the back of my cartoon briefs, pushing them down as he said, "We know we have clients who would just love to molest a piece of boyflesh that is... well, perhaps a few years younger...."
"Or more than just a few years," the voice behind me chuckled.
Bodoni ignored the comment and spread my cheeks. "That's what's so lovely about being able to sell Cody here today. We have legal documentation assuring our clients and the state authorities that little Cody here is 18 and legal to sell. But when you see how small his butt cheeks are, how narrow his hips, how slim his torso...." The man ended with a deep sigh.
"In other words, the pervs will pay a fortune for this kid! And that's why you put him in those little boy superhero briefs." All the men laughed as they walked to the next boy on display.
My father approached so quietly that I didn't even realize he was standing next to me until he cleared his throat. "Oh dear," he mumbled as he looked me over. He pulled up the back of my briefs so my ass cheeks were covered once more, then he held his finger to his lips. "Be careful, Cody. Don't say anything. You must remember to address any free man as Sir, boy. I don't want to see you punished."
I nodded my head and stammered, "Th-thank you, sir."
Dad told me that he didn't want my mom or my sisters to see me like this, so he had come alone. He told me to be a good boy and do as I was told. He nodded over toward Russell and said, "A big sturdy ox like that boy could take a lot of whipping. I'm scared for you, Cody. Please promise me that you'll do your best to be a good slaveboy."
"I promise..." I almost said Dad, which would have landed me in trouble, but I paused and said, "Sir." And then he was gone.
The ropes opened for the select clients to come examine us and the prime customers came in. Two men immediately came up to me. They both looked to be in their 50s, one with gray at the temples, the other with his head shaved, but they each seemed fit and they were dressed fastidiously in the most fashionable clothes.
"When I saw his picture online yesterday night I couldn't get over how much he looks like your grandson," the bald-headed man remarked.
The other man had his hand down the back of my cartoon briefs, squeezing and fondling each ass cheek. "Billy has this same pair of underpants. I wonder if this slaveboy would fit in Billy's clothes."
"Yeah, think of all those things we can't legally do to Billy, but we could enjoy doing to this darling boy. Look at the boy from the side and check out the curve of his backside. So much like Billy's." I didn't know Billy's age, but the way this man was talking about his own grandson was making me feel queasy. I wondered if Billy knew about his grandfather's perversions.
I felt humiliated the way they talked about me. But their wandering hands remained tender and they did not hurt me. The way they talked about using me almost sounded playful. I didn't know who else would examine me that day before the bidding, but I wondered if serving these two refined gentlemen might not be so bad.
The grandfather excitedly added, "Then when Billy comes over we can have this slaveboy serve him in the shower. It would be fun to see their two bodies naked and slippery together."
His buddy laughed and added, "On the other hand if your son-in-law screws up his business any further, you may be able to buy Billy at next month's auction."
As the two men walked away I heard the grandfather say, "Yes, but you know the age of full use in this state would limit...."
"Well, isn't that why you bought the estate in Florida?"
Before I had time to digest that, a group of boys I knew from school surrounded me. "Oh, man," said the first one as he stroked my erection inside my colorful briefs. Eddie was a skinny boy with curly blond hair who was a smartass to other kids, but a kiss ass to all the teachers. "Look how small his dick is! He always hid it and didn't shower with us, so I figured it'd be small."
One of Eddie's friends rammed his finger up my butthole and I cried out. He just laughed, "Damn, this tiny hole is gonna break my finger off."
"That's a good thing," a third boy said. "You wanna buy a slaveboy who has a tight hole. You pay premium for a virgin ass."
"Hey, Cody," Eddie screeched in my face. "You got any message for the guys back at school."
"N-no, sir. Th-thank you, sir." The three of them broke into peels of laughter. I don't know what was funny about what I said or how I said it. I was stripped and posed as a slave and I answered the way slaves were supposed to respond.
Soon after a man in extravagantly colored clothes looked me up and down and said, "OMG, wouldn't this be the most perfect Cupid for my tableaux?"
From what I gathered listening to this man's conversation, he had living statues decorating the front lawn of his mansion. If he chose to buy me, he would dye my skin perfectly white and I'd have to hold a pose on his lawn for 12 hours a day. Tears started to come to my eyes when I thought about this possible fate. Granted, it wasn't hard labor, but it seemed like an impossible challenge.
There was a very loud man in a white suit who spent a lot of time manhandling Russell, the football player. He wandered from Russell and seemed to be waiting for something when he slapped my butt hard. "Hey, maybe I oughta buy this little one, just for the fun of it."
"C'mon, McKellen," his associate said. "Given how big you are, how big your dick is, and how hard and long you like to fuck, you would pulverize this poor kid in one night."
"But I'd have a helluva time doing it," the man in white said, as he reached into my cartoon underpants and twisted my balls. Then, thankfully, he returned to Russell.
I can't say for sure whether I was crying because of the way my balls got twisted, or whether I was crying at the prospect of this huge, rough man "pulverizing" my body in one night. But there were tears streaming down my face.
Without even realizing there was someone there, I felt a hand dab my eyes with a handkerchief. I looked down and saw a distinguished looking man in his 40s. "There, there, little buddy. I know it must all be very frightening for you." His voice was so soft and his face so kind I half-smiled at him.
"Th-thank you, sir." After I said that he held the handkerchief to my nose and told me to blow. I did. Then he let me blow from the other nostril. He wiped my nose and face, and then tossed the handkerchief on the floor for slaves to clean up.
His big hand was rough but it felt so gentle the way he was moving it up and down on the side of my face. "A boy like you needs a daddy who will take care of you. Would you like that, precious boy?"
My eyes must have grown wide and my breathing was deep as I enthusiastically responded, "Oh, yes, sir. Please, sir."
He smiled at me and kissed me softly on the lips. It felt strange to have a bearded man's face up against mine and to feel his mouth on my lips. But I just closed my eyes. When he pulled away and reached up to touch my face again, I turned my face to kiss his hand. "I can see you wanna be a good boy for daddy, don't you, Cody?"
"Oh, yes sir. I'll be the best boy I could be for you, sir."
He chuckled and his hand went down the back of my cartoon underpants. "I think you got the cutest little ass I ever did feel."
I blushed and looked down. I think back and wonder if I was acting like a coquettish girl. His hand reached into the front of my underpants and fondled my penis for less than a minute. He then patted my cock through the fabric and said, "And we're not gonna concern ourselves with that, precious boy."
I wanted to shout out and beg him to buy me. I wanted to tell him that I would do anything for him if only I could hear him calling me "Precious Boy." My heart was beating fast.
"P-please, M-master."
He looked up at me startled. A slave only uses the word Master to refer to his owner. I saw a big grin spread across his handsome face. "I think you'd like that, Cody, to be my precious boy. Maybe sometime when we're alone instead of having you call me Master, I'll let you call me Daddy instead."
Tears were streaming down my face, but this time they were tears of joy. Both hands were traveling all over my body, with such a soft and feathery touch it was almost like being tickled. "I've got a nice place for a slaveboy like you to live and work for me, Cody."
At that moment I wouldn't have cared if this man had me hauling bricks under the hot sun all day. I wanted to belong to him. "P-please, sir."
His fingers held up my chin as he asked, "Please, what, Cody?"
Did I dare say it? Would I get in trouble for saying it? I whispered, "P-please buy me, sir."
I felt one last caress of my butt through the cartoon underpants. Then I saw the man walk directly over to Mr. Bodoni, who called him Master Red and treated him like an old friend.
Before that moment I had always thought of myself as a straight boy. But now as I looked at the bulky bearded man, I wondered if I was gay. All I could think about was how Master Red's cock looked, how it would smell, and how it would taste. Even as other people came by and fondled and prodded and fingered me, I still kept up my hope that Master Red would buy me.