“Don’t take the bus home today,” said Mikey’s dad on Monday morning. “You’ll need to wait up by the front office after school for Bruce to pick you up for Right Path.”
Mikey stared at him, halfway out the door and clutching the strap for his backpack. “What? No!” He was aghast. “Dad, you can’t be serious! You’re not really falling for that ‘community service’ bullshit, are you? I’m not doing it!”
“Language,” his father warned. “Mr. Allen is being very generous by enrolling you in his program. You need to show up for it. If you come back home, I’m just going to drive you out there, and then it will be exactly the same except they’ll be disappointed in you. Is that what you want?”
Mikey wanted to protest, but what could he say? His father certainly hadn’t shown him any mercy the previous weekend, when he’d happily fucked Mikey’s ass twice in front of basically the whole town. He wasn’t going to rely on sympathy at this point. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.
“I hate you!” He yelled at his dad. “Fuck you! I’m not doing it! I’ll run away if I have to! Go to hell!” He slammed the door behind him before his father could respond, running out to the bus. It didn’t make him feel much better.
He spent the entire school day fretting about his appointment with “Right Path.” After what had been done to him at the park, he didn’t want to know what Bryce Allen and his cronies had in store for him next. They’d made him fuck a dog; it felt like anything was possible after that.
Connor tried to get him to talk about it, clearly noticing that something was bothering him. But Mikey shrugged him off. He realized now why the other boy hadn’t wanted to talk about what had happened to him; he apparently understood what the risks were. Clearly Conner was a lot smarter than he was.
Mikey couldn’t possibly just walk up and meet Bryce Allen and Bruce the bodyguard at the office. It felt like walking to his own execution. So when the final bell rang for the day, he instead grabbed his stuff and made his way out a side door, striking off towards town on foot.
It was around half an hour’s walk to get down into town from the school. Mikey didn’t really have much of a plan beyond that: walk down into the town, spend the afternoon there... and then what? Maybe try to find someone who would be willing to drive him back home after a few hours? Pretend that he’d gone with Bryce Allen and hope his dad didn’t figure it out? Maybe it could work. It was the best he could come up with, anyway.
There wasn’t much to do in town without money. Mikey did his homework in the nice coffee shop on main street, but the owner was giving him the stink eye for not buying anything, so he left soon after. He was wandering the sidewalk aimlessly when he was stopped by a deep, authoritative voice.
“Michael Campion? Stop right there.”
Mikey looked up to find a police officer standing in front of him in full uniform, hands on hips. He was astonished; in a small town like Middledale, you basically never saw police out on patrol. He’d never seen a cop in full uniform before.
“Huh?” Mikey asked as the police officer grabbed him by the shoulder. “What? What did I do wrong?”
“We were told to be on the lookout for you this afternoon,” the officer told him sternly. “That you had threatened to run away from home.” The officer knelt down on one knee next to Mikey. One of his large, calloused hands slid its way down the back of Mikey’s pants, two fingers deftly finding his anus and pressing tauntingly against it. Mikey gasped. They were too dry to go in, but they rubbed against him with clear and unambiguous intent for the future.
“You wouldn’t be trying to get out of Mr. Allen’s program and paying your debt to society, would you?” the cop sneered at him. The fingers pressed harder, one dry tip poking the tiniest bit inside him. “You know, I was one of the many, many folks who got a chance to enjoy your naughty little holes the other day. I’d be more than happy to repeat the performance if it means helping out Mr. Allen.”
Mikey shook his head adamantly and tried to take a step backwards, but the police officer held him firmly in place. Suddenly, however, they were interrupted by a large black SUV pulling up to the side of the street directly beside them. Mikey and the officer both looked up as the door slid open and Bryce Allen himself stepped out.
“There you are Michael,” he said genially. “Everyone’s been looking all over for you. Thank you, officer, for finding him. Come along now boy.”
The police officer gave Mikey’s ass cheek a parting squeeze before pulling his hand out of the boy’s pants and helping usher him into the car. Mikey wasn’t sure whether this state of affairs was an improvement; Mr. Allen did not seem happy as the door slammed shut behind them.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Michael,” said Bryce Allen once they were alone. Bruce the bodyguard was in the driver’s seat and shifted gears once the doors were closed, taking them back out onto the road. “We got a phone call from your father this morning. It sounds like you were incredibly rude to him, in addition to deliberately disobeying his instructions. We had planned to start your training with Right Path today, but I’m afraid now you’re going to have to be punished.”
“Fuck you!” said Mikey, plucking up his courage. “It’s not like you can do worse to me than you already have! Why should I do what you say?”
“Oh Michael,” said Mr. Allen condescendingly. There was almost sympathy in his voice. “Never believe that it can’t get worse.”
The car ride was short. Almost as soon as they had pulled out into traffic they were stopping once again, pulling into a parking lot in a strip mall. Both Bryce Allen and the bodyguard stepped out of the car, dragging Mikey along with them. He had no idea why they’d stopped; he didn’t recognize any of the businesses.
They led him around the back of the buildings, down a staircase into a submerged alley that ran the length of the complex’s rear. The doors here were all gray and unmarked, used for employees or deliveries. Bryce Allen took the lead and knocked on one of them.
The door was answered by an enormous man with tattoos covering his arms and neck, almost as large as the bodyguard. He had a nose piercing and two lip piercings, and an air of someone entirely unimpressed with the world. He nodded at the two men when he saw them. “Got it all set up for ya,” he said, his voice gruff.
Mikey was starting to have real reservations about what was about to happen to him. Were they just going to let this guy fuck him? He looked pretty tough, but Mikey could deal with that; he’d been through much worse at this point.
They brought him into what looked like a back supply room. There was a padded table in the center of the space, and a chair beside it along with a rolling table covered in a wide variety of tools that looked like they came from somewhere halfway between an art class and a dentist’s office. A chill ran up Mikey’s spine. He tried to bolt for the door, but the bodyguard held him firm.
“Wait, stop, what are you-” Mikey started, but the wind was knocked out of him as he was dumped unceremoniously onto his stomach on the padded table and ominously strapped down. Huge belts encircled his shoulders and upper thighs, wrapping around both him and the table beneath. The men in the room pulled up his shirt and slightly pulled down his pants, exposing the small of his back, but to Mikey’s surprise they did not continue to undress him.
The tattooed man gestured to the chair beside the table and the bodyguard sat down. He picked up one of the implements and flicked a switch; it began to buzz ominously.
“Thank you so much for the use of your equipment,” said Bryce Allen politely. “We greatly appreciate it.”
The man shrugged. “Bruce is an old friend. We’d’ve hired him a while ago if he weren’t already working for you.”
Lying face down on the table, Mikey could only see Bryce Allen out of the corner of his eye as he gestured to Mikey. “Regardless, please help yourself to the boy’s mouth during this process as a token of our gratitude.”
The man smirked and reached for his fly, coming around the front of the table. But Mikey’s attention was quickly distracted from the cock hanging in front of his face by a much larger concern.
Pain bloomed, bright and horrible, in his lower back. The bodyguard was leaning over him with the buzzing tool in his hand. Mikey opened his mouth to scream, only to have it immediately filled with flesh as the tattooed man used the opportunity to slide his penis between Mikey’s lips.
“Don’t wiggle,” the bodyguard warned ominously. “I don’t want to mess up and hit something vital.”
Mikey froze, going horribly still as the tattooed man began to fuck his face. After a few more moments of continuing intense pain in the small of his back, he noticed that the bodyguard’s ministrations were following some kind of very specific pattern. This finally tipped him off as to what was going on.
It was a tattoo parlor. They were giving him a tattoo.
He held as still as he could given the pain, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. His nostrils were filled with the musk of the man in front of him, thick pubes tickling his nose every time the tattooed man thrust into his mouth. He could hardly move beneath the straps; there was nothing he could do to resist.
He wasn’t sure how long it took the bodyguard to tattoo him. About halfway through the process the tattooed man began to buck his hips wildly, grabbing Mikey’s head in his hands and holding it steady while he plunged in deep and came down the boy’s throat. He was grinning as he zipped himself back up. He left the room then, leaving Mikey alone with Bryce Allen and the bodyguard.
Finally, after Mikey spent some indeterminate amount of time wandering around in a fog of pain, his mind clouded and reeling, the sounds of the needle stopped. Mikey gasped at the sudden relief.
Bryce Allen came over to the table and glanced down at Mikey’s back. “Very good!” he said. He sounded delighted. “Now, before we get that bandaged up, would you like to see your new tattoo Michael?”
He didn’t, not really, but he was overcome with a morbid curiosity. Just how bad was it? What had they done to him?
Bryce Allen held up a long mirror at an angle where Mikey could see the small of his back if he twisted his head. It was hard to read the tattoo backwards in the mirror, but luckily it was fairly short.
The words “FUCK HOLE” adorned Mikey’s lower back in bold, block letters, along with an arrow directly beneath pointing down his spine towards the hidden pucker of his anus.
Tears sprung to Mikey’s eyes as the reality of it sank into him. So this was it. The mark he’d have on him for the rest of his life. Everyone would know now what had happened to him; there would be no way to hide it. He said nothing as the bodyguard placed a bandage over the fresh wound and wrapped it tight. He continued to say nothing as he was unstrapped from the table and led--his steps ginger with pain--back to the black SUV.
He continued to be silent as the two men drove him back home, marching him up his front steps and knocking on the door.
“There you are!” his dad said when he opened the door, sounding relieved. “I was so worried!” He gestured to the two men, “Come in, come in.”
The two men stepped into the entryway, pushing Mikey in front of them and closing the door behind themselves. Bryce Allen put a hand on Mikey’s shoulder.
“Well boy?” he said sternly. “Have you learned your lesson? How are you going to apologize to your father?”
Mikey stared at the linoleum floor. “Sorry,” he said bleakly. “I shouldn’t have said those things or tried to run away.”
Bryce Allen clicked his tongue. “Now now, that’s not nearly enough. Do you know how worried he was? Show your father some respect. If you’re truly sorry, you should demonstrate your remorse physically.”
Mikey swallowed. The pain in his lower back throbbed. He dropped onto his knees and obediently opened his mouth.
Mikey’s father looked momentarily surprised, then pleased. He unclasped his pants quickly and hurried to shove his cock down Mikey’s throat, pressing the boy’s head firmly and affectionately down onto his crotch. He sighed happily as he began to fuck his son’s face without further encouragement.
“That’s a good boy,” said Bryce Allen behind him. “Seems like you’re finally starting to understand what you’re good for. Bruce? Why don’t you get the training equipment from the car?”
Mikey didn’t have the energy left to worry about what the man’s words meant. He could only hold still and let his father have his way with him.
The bodyguard returned quickly, and the two men waited patiently until Mikey’s father came hard into the boy’s mouth. Mikey choked and swallowed as best he could as his father petted his hair through the last few spurts onto Mikey’s tongue.
“Now,” said Bryce Allen, “we were going to start this at Right Path today, but we may as well just do it now in preparation for tomorrow. Here, put him down onto hands and knees. Let’s get his pants off.”
Mikey didn’t resist as he was shoved to the floor, his hips lifted into the air and his pants and underwear quickly removed. He only barely managed to look back in time to see what was happening to him as Bryce Allen unceremoniously began to shove an enormous lubed-up black dildo into his ass. He clenched his jaw as his flesh parted for the toy, letting it sink into him.
When the object was fully seated inside him, the men proceeded to clasp a series of soft black straps around Mikey’s legs and abdomen. One fastened around each thigh and another two connected to the front of those and ran up and over his hips. All four apparently connected to the dildo in the back, keeping it firmly planted inside of him.
Not just a dildo. Mikey gasped as Bryce Allen flipped some kind of switch and the thing began to vibrate and twist inside of him. It moved like a living thing, squirming around in his hole like it was trying to burrow deeper.
“So that’s how you fasten the straps,” Bryce Allen was explaining to Mikey’s father. “He’s to leave that in him at all times, including at school. You can take it out for him to use the bathroom, but then it should go right back in afterwards. We need to start getting him trained up for the future.”
“I understand,” Mikey’s father replied. “I’ll make sure he keeps it in.” He patted the base of the toy, ramming it ever-so-slightly further up his son’s ass. “Thank you so much for bringing him back, gentlemen.”
“Our pleasure,” said Bryce Allen.