Assorted writings

‘You stupid bloody girl! What were you thinking?!’ Alan sniffled, ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry!’ he was shaking as Ernest grasped his forearm tightly, digging his nails into the deep, fresh cuts slashed into Alan's arms. ‘We have a press event tomorrow, why did you do it? What was your excuse this time?’ ‘I don't- I don't know,’ Alan cried, tears rushing down his face, ‘I feel awful, I can't cope, I'm sorry.’ Slap A stinging pain ran through Alan’s cheek as he was hit by his husband, reddening his pale cheek and sending more tears pouring out of his eyes, he pleaded, ‘Ernie please, please I'm sorry. . .’ ‘You're sorry? That isn't any shitting help now, is it? You've pulled a massive boner on me here, how am I supposed to bring you tomorrow looking like this? I- I mean you've absolutely covered yourself in cuts, is there anywhere you didn't hurt yourself?’ Alan gulped, and stared down at his feet, distraught at having disappointed Ernest so much, he mumbled out, ‘Under my dress.’ ‘Good,’ Ernest groped his bum over his dress, he wasn't wearing a petticoat so it was easy to grab even though it was relatively small. ‘Take your panties off for me, and get yourself against the couch with your legs spread.’ ‘Yes sir. . . I'm sorry sir.’ Ernest momentarily softened, and he caressed his beloved's cheek, ‘That's alright darling, you're going to make it up to me, isn't that right?’ Alan nodded, his silky black fringe slipping out from where it was held back with a grip, and hiding his tear-stained, blotchy face, that would surely have a bruise coming up soon; he stumbled over to the sofa, still shaking, and kicked his silken panties off, then bent himself against the soft piece of furniture, and presented himself to his owner. His husband strode over to him, and flipped his skirt over, exposing Alan's bare backside - it was indeed free from cuts, with the bloody mess just below it at his thighs. After administering a slap to Alan's soft bum, making him squeal and try to wriggle away, he pressed himself between the cheeks, already beginning to leak into his briefs - he took a hold of Alan's small, limited cock and started to gently stroke it, squeezing the tip and making him grunt in a decidedly un-feminine manner. ‘Be quiet-’ Alan was gagged with Ernest's thick, hairy fingers, shoved into his mouth.

He looked up at his husband, eyes tearing up,“Will it hurt?” Ernest nodded, “But so does childbirth, think of it in the same way-” He stroked Alan's cheek, and pressed a kiss to his lips, then his forehead, “I know I haven't allowed you to drink in the past, but it will hurt less if you're tipsy, trust me, it's the same way we did it in the trenches.” He showed the young boy a crystal glass filled with whiskey, and pressed it to his lips, letting him swallow the golden-brown liquid, which made the space behind his eyes go numb. Alan hiccuped, “Thank you Ernie- I love you.” “That's okay darling, I love you too, make sure you're comfortable before we start.” He turned away, collecting his instruments as well as the most important part of all this, the fetus. Carefully, he held it in his hands, cradling it as he placed it besides Alan's head; it was already grey and lifeless, but he was convinced he could nurture it inside of his wife, both with their love and with his blood supply as he sewed it inside. Alan was laid back against the bed, head atop the pillows and body strewn out, ready to be impregnated - he was trembling slightly, and his breathing was hoarse as he struggled to calm himself, he knew how much this would hurt, but he also knew the pain would be over far quicker than it had been when his gash had been created, and he tried to focus on that thought. “W- wait-” Alan cried, “Let me hold it- I want it to know me before you put it inside-” “Of course darling, whatever you need.” He allowed Alan to cup the baby to his chest, holding it close as he prepared to take it inside of him. Ernest pressed the scalpel down, and slid it, cutting Alan open; he sliced through all the layers of Alan's stomach with one go- his tan, thin, skin, the toned muscles, and the sparse layer of fat below, before exposing his crimson red interior, organs beating and pulsing, “Oh- oh Alan it's beautiful- I do wish I could see your heart beating inside you.” Alan cried out, groaning in pain as the incision stung and ached, leaking dark red blood out onto his skin, flowing too fast to dry; this was a different pain from his gash, the cut being far more surgical and precise, and in an area with fewer nerves and fewer veins- so this was far more of an ache. He screamed as Ernest stroked the edge of the cut, admiring his gorgeous physiology. “Shh, I know it hurts darling, please don't cry, I won't be able to finish if you cry- try to quiet yourself.” He sat back, examining the internal anatomy of his love; there were organs where they shouldn't be, and yet he was missing some that should have been there. He tried not to worry about this, as he knew Alan functioned just fine, and he carried on with the task at hand. Slowly, he fit the baby inside of his wife, who was writhing and groaning in pain, then he began stitching the infant inside of him- he joined it and Alan together between soft infant skin and warm, wet, internal matter, blood beading out of Alan with every stitch, causing him to wail, unable to bear the sharp, stabbing sensation within. He tied off the stitches, and gazed at his handiwork, secure in the knowledge he had put all his skill into this. Ernest knew he had to work quickly now, unless he wanted to lose him, so he sewed him back up with ease - before wrapping his stomach with bandages, pulling them taut and taping them down, blood quickly staining the bright white cotton, as well as their marital bed. Alan choked out, eyes screwed shut, “Is- is it finished?” “It's finished,” Ernest knelt by him, holding his delicate hands and kissing them, again and again, covering them in the young man's own blood, “I'm so proud of you, I'm- I'm so happy darling!” p>

Morgan was showing Alan around the venue - about an hour before opening - so he could get ready and comfortable at his station, and ask any questions he had. They got to the bathroom and Alan eyed up the trough he would be lying in for most of the night; it was comfortably long, deep enough to submerge his body in, and was a nice, high quality metal lined with waterproof cushioning. “Like it?” Morgan smirked, seeing Alan's eyes light up, “We treat our pets good here.” He stroked Alan's hair, tucking it behind his ear. Alan slid his fingers across the vinyl, crouched down by the trough, “I love it… where can I change?” So Morgan led Alan into a backroom, gave him some privacy as he was getting ready- though of course he would be baring all for the rest of the night- then gave him a warm, fluffy, towelling robe to wear to and from the trough in the bathroom. He was left to his own devises after that, and went about getting comfortable- he hadn't needed to douche as he wouldn't be getting fucked tonight, but he had worn a buttplug; it was thick and quite large, and had a decorative puppy paw design in the center. Alan lay himself down in the trough, relaxing his back and letting his hair fall behind his shoulders as he stretched his cat-like limbs alluringly out. Before he knew it, men were streaming into the venue, lots of them backed up after a long journey- at first no-one dared use the trough, though he did get plenty of tugs on his hair and his little cock- until he saw a familiar face, dressed in leather; “Georgie!” He beamed, “I knew you'd end up coming, can't stay away from me, can you?” “Ay,” George tousled his hair, “Thought toilets didn't talk?” He began unbuckling his belt, “You don't look very used…” He pulled out his thick cock, “Want me to fix that?” “Oh please- I think most of them are too nervous to be the first to use me- anymore daddies out there?” “A good bunch just arrived, so I imagine you'll be soaked in no time-” He began to empty his bladder, golden liquid streaming from his cock-tip and splashing onto Alan's stomach, pooling in his bellybutton. Alan sighed, grinning, “Thank you daddy-” and George replied, “If you're a good boy tonight I'll take you home, I don't want you saying no to anyone or anything, okay boy?” “Yes sir,” Alan purred, his face flushing slightly and his cock hardening. “I'll see you in three hours then.” He gave one final tug on his boyfriend's hair before leaving the bathroom, letting a group of hunks in behind him. He barely got out, “Hello boys-” before one of them ordered his mouth open and shoved three fingers in to shut him up whilst they all pissed. “Shouldn't you have a gag on ya?” He tutted, “Naughty toilet thinks he gets to speak-” The man, who was tall and well built, with rippling muscles and beautiful blonde curly hair, pulled a hanky out from his back pocket, and tied it around Alan's jaw, shoving it in Alan's mouth and ensuring he couldn't speak, “Much better.” Once the men were done with him, there was a good amount of piss building up in the trough and on his skin, and he had a wet sheen all down his chest, torso, and legs. The next man to use him was a fat leather daddy with a round, solid, stomach- he had a large chest barely bound down with tape, and he pissed on Alan with his packer, tipping the excess onto Alan's hair then yanking the wet black locks. His stomach began to grumble uncomfortably, so he wrapped himself in his dressing gown and headed for a quick shower to rinse off the yellow sheen he had developed, as well as some of the smell, then headed to the buffet, in the nude. As he walked in, he got many lingering looks from the guests, and a couple of pats on his arse too. The buffet was delightful; lots of fruits and desserts mainly, as well as water, sparkling or still. George was stood in the corner, chatting up a twink- and he glanced over, not sparing him a smile. So Alan decided to grab a bunch of grapes, and slide them onto his tongue one by one, attracting the attention of a nearby group of muscle boys. They crowded him, hands grabbing and groping every inch of his body. “Well boys, looks like the toilet got hungry, reckon he needs touchin’ too?” “Sure looks like it, he's been hard all night- too bad toilets don't need to cum.” “He thinks he deserves to eat, maybe he thinks he deserves to cum? We need to train him out of that- here-” Alan was grabbed around the waist by one of them, and thrown roughly over his shoulder- they walked to a bench and one of them sat down and Alan was placed over his lap as the other two went to grab something. His hair was yanked and a deep voice muttered, “Filthy fuckin’ toilets aren't meant to leave the bathroom, you ever heard of a mobile toilet?” The small man groaned from the sharp pain, not answering the question. The hunky man gripped his jaw, “Answer the question bitch-” “Well- actually-” Alan breathed heavily, “Porta potties are mobile,” That got him a slap on his cheek and another yank on his hair, drawing a clump of salty tears out of his eye. “Don't fuckin' talk to me like that- you've got no right to speak to an actual person like that- like you're the same as us-” He looked up, “Ah, this should shut you up!” Alan glanced up, and saw the other two men, as well as a couple of new strangers, and George, standing in a line holding paddles, some plain wood, some studded, and some with words designed to bruise in, ‘scum’ and ‘filth’ were the two that he could make out. They made their way to his behind, and the first bloke gave it an admiring stroke before striking- he must of put a lot of force behind it, because it lurched Alan forwards as his stung his arse, pushing a squeak out of him; the next wasn't so hard, he guessed it must have been the twink he'd spotted hiding between two of the more well built men; after him came a studded paddle, and Alan cried as it struck him, tears streaming down his face now. “I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” He wailed, but a gag was shoved into his open, wet, mouth. “Sorry doesn't cut it- shut your piss-hole and take it like a fuckin' man-” Then the hardest smack so far hit, and he knew it was from George- if he hadn't had the gag in he would have screamed out in pain- he was convinced skin must have broken. The rest of the paddle hits weren't as strong, but his bloodied arse responded like they were the strongest thing ever. Once it was over, the man whose lap he was across removed his gag, admiring his face; soaked wet from tears, bright red with clumpy eyelashes- spit covering his lips and eyes red from crying. He gripped Alan's hair one more time, yanking his hair and lifting his head to look him in the eyes, “Learn your lesson yet?” Alan choked out, “Yes sir-” “Good.” He was dragged back to the bathroom, and for good measure, his mouth was pissed in. After that he was mostly left alone, aside from getting pissed and occasionally jizzed on, which relieved him as he was definitely at his limit. It wasn't long till the event was finished, and George came to get him from the trough. His boyfriend crouched down next to him, and lovingly pressed a kiss to his cheek, stroking his shoulder, “How would you feel about me taking you home and looking after you? Clean you up a bit and feed you?” Alan nodded weakly, “That'd be nice,” He smiled up at George, “I missed you tonight, I think I like it best when you spend more time with me.” “I won't leave your side next time then.” He helped Alan out of the trough, and gave him a shower before dressing him and taking him out to the car.

A crunch, a snap- then a wet squelching sound, he clenched hold of his pen knife as he inched out of his office, walking steadily down the hall, careful not to step on any of the older, creakier floorboards, lest he be heard, ‘had someone broken in? Was Alan hurt?’ thoughts rushed through his mind as he finally made it to the room the noises were coming from and peered in - Alan was hunched over in the middle of the bedroom, knelt on the floor with blood covering his fingers, it had splattered over the thick carpet too, it would surely stain once it dried, a deep reddish-brown. He spoke, trying to be gentle with his new bride despite his frustration at the mess, “Sweetheart, is something the matter? Have you hurt yourself?” Alan shot his head around, startled, and Ernest finally saw the true cause of the bloody mess; a pigeon, deceased, though it had obviously put up a fight as its wings were broken and its beak was smashed- his bride's face was soaked with the nasty things blood, and he growled as he teared another chunk of flesh from the corpse, exposing its innards and letting its gizzards and stomach fall out of it, still attached. “What the hell do you think you're doing?!” Ernest rushed over to him in an instant, diving down to push him against the floor with one hand against his chest, using the other to snatch the bird from him. He was snarled at, and Alan attempted to claw at him, though he lacked the nails to do any damage at all - Ernest glared at him, threatening to slap him, and his wife whimpered, then weakly mumbled out, “I was… hungry…” Before beginning to stare at the mutilated thing in Ernest's fist, licking his lips like a ravenous beast. “Stop that!” His husband snapped, “You are a lady, you will not eat this- this- this FILTH whilst you are under my roof, do you understand?” The smaller man nodded dejectedly, and had his cheek slapped, sending a stinging pain through the flesh. Ernest was clearly not satisfied with his answer, and though he had only been here for a month, he knew what he was expected to say, “Yes sir.”

Ernest screeched, spittle spraying out, ‘I am not schizophrenic!’ as he slapped Bernie, palm against cheek. The shorter man stumbled backwards, shocked and in pain, scowling at his friend, ‘I remember when you went away Ernie! You forget, I know you!’ He gripped his hands on Ernest's shoulders, ‘Now I don't know who this girl is, but I'm sure she's lovely, sweet, and normal!’ ‘But she’s not! You don’t understand!’ His face grew red and veins strained, he was visibly stressed from this argument, ‘And I'm not imagining it! I can show you! She's in the car!’ Bernie gasped, ‘You left her out there?! Christ man! Yes! Go get her! She must be freezing to death!’ As Ernest brought in his new girl, Bernie stepped close to introduce himself to her, holding her dainty, gloved hand and pressing a soft kiss to it, ‘Hi sweetheart, I'm afraid Ernie here has told me almost everything but your name.’ There was a moment, and Bernie studied the couple as the young girl, very young girl, glanced at Ernest, who gave a gentle nod, before answering in a muted voice, ‘A- Alan- sir-’ He scoffed, chuckling, ‘What do you mean Alan? That's no name for a little lady like yourself!’ ‘That's what I've been trying to tell you! She looks like a girl but I don't think she used to be! I don't even think she likes being one very much, but she knows she has to be one now, don't you princess?’ Ernest pressed a kiss to Alan's damp forehead, and Alan nodded, then spoke again; ‘I know I have to… to keep daddy safe.’ ‘Daddy?’ Bernie raised an eyebrow. Ernest grumbled, ‘I'm raising her, she doesn't have any parents, it only makes sense I should be her daddy… but, please Bernie, let me show you what's special about her-’ Bernie held his hands up, ‘Go ahead!’ Ernest took the pair of them upstairs to Bernie's bedroom, and began undressing his girl, leaving Bernie a little confused, ‘What exactly is happening here?’ ‘It's under her dress, you need to see it!’ Alan was laid back against the bed, not looking either man in the face as his nude body was exposed, all evidence of his abnormality on display. ‘What. The. Hell.’ Bernie exclaimed, bewildered at what he was seeing; This young girl- boy?- was mutilated across her whole body - cuts and gashes all up her arms and legs, especially deep ones scarring her thighs - she clearly had a cock, though it was small and petite, and she lacked testicles - the most shocking aspect of her body however, was a carved hole, stabbed deep into her crotch, an opening to her warm, wet, bloody insides. Bernie reached out to touch it, but his hand was slapped away, Ernest spat, ‘Don't touch her! She has pain all over, especially there, I think it's supposed to be a pussy, she doesn't like being touched there.’ Alan whimpered softly, ‘It hurts me…’ ‘Don’t worry darling,’ Ernest kissed her tenderly, ‘We’re not going to hurt you, daddy promises.’