Chapter 14: The Monster
The lingering scent of Trent’s expensive cologne wrestled with the raw musk of their earlier, frantic morning. Mike stood naked by the front door, fingertips unconsciously tracing the rim of his hole, still tingling and slightly puffed from Trent’s meticulous application of the thick, medicinal ointment. "Keep it right," Trent had growled, those big hands spreading him wide, pushing the cool salve deep inside just before pulling on his sweats and grabbing his college bag. "Got a surprise coming for you. Be ready." His grin was pure, knowing heat, "And stop playing with your pussy when I am trying to leave", he grinned, before he kissed Mike and disappeared out the door, leaving him alone with the echo of his own choked moan and the phantom pressure of that massive cock sliding between his fingers during their mutual jerk-off session.
Sunlight slanted across the worn kitchen table, illuminating dust motes dancing where Mike sat nursing lukewarm coffee. The silence was thick, broken only by the hum of the fridge and the hammering of his own heart. A surprise. The words looped, twisting apprehension and a filthy kind of anticipation into a knot low in his gut. He’d barely finished the last of his prescribed protein shake – part of Trent’s new "regimen" – when the doorbell rang, sharp and insistent.
Mike answered the door in just grey sweats, his preferred dress right now, reminding him of Trent. The delivery driver, someone Mike would usually barely register, was a thickly muscled young blonde man. The tightness of the sleeves around his biceps, the bulge of his shirt against thick, heavy pecs, the roundness of his ass. Mike's cock twitched. The delivery man gave him a brief half smile and eyebrow raise, but turned and left. The parcel was a heavy, rectangular, cardboard box. No return address. Mike’s fingers trembled slightly as he tore it open. Nestled within layers of bubble wrap lay a dildo. Not just any dildo. It was massive. Thick as his wrist, veined in hyper-realistic detail, a deep onyx black, ending in a bulbous, intimidating head. A small, typed note was taped to the base: Same as mine. Get practicing. – T. Mike swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. He picked it up. The weight was substantial, the silicone cool and yielding yet sturdy beneath the surface. Jesus Christ. He traced a thick vein with his thumb, a jolt of pure, electric heat zinging straight to his own short, rigid cock straining against his sweatpants.
He washed it meticulously at the sink, the sheer size making it awkward. The powerful suction cup stuck with a wet thwack to the smooth kitchen countertop. It stood there, jutting up obscenely towards the ceiling. Mike stared. His reflection in the glass looked back: a middle-aged man, hairy chested, moustache twitching, facing down a giant, fake black cock in his own damn kitchen. He licked his lips.
He started tentative. Leaning in, remembering Trent's instructions, he opened his mouth wide, trying to take just the head. His jaw protested instantly. He pushed, felt silicone stretch his lips obscenely wide, felt the ridge press against the back of his throat. He gagged, pulling back, strings of saliva snapping. Took a breath. Tried again. Gagged harder, eyes watering. Rest. Spit pooling in his mouth. He found himself searching on his phone: how to deep throat without gagging. He tried the tongue exercises, the breathing techniques between attempts. Back to the counter. More pressure. More gagging. Spit slicked the shaft, dripping onto the counter. He pushed deeper, forcing himself to relax his throat, feeling the head nudge past the constriction. A ragged, wet gasp escaped him. Pulled back, panting. He was painfully hard. Could he…? He glanced towards the suction cup base. Sit on it? Right here? The thought was dizzying, shameful… and intensely arousing. But, strangely, he got the sense it might be like cheating on Trent. If he wasn't here, instructing and guiding. He hesitated.
His phone buzzed. A picture. Trent’s dick, fully erect, huge and heavy in his large hand, glistening under harsh fluorescent lights – probably a college bathroom. The text: Bet you wish this was the one stretching your throat right now, old man. Mike’s breath hitched. Without overthinking, he grabbed his phone, leaned over the counter again, took the dildo into his mouth as deep as he could manage – jaw screaming, throat convulsing but holding the head past the gag reflex this time – and snapped a picture. Sent it. Spit poured from the corners of his mouth.
Almost immediately, Trent replied: Fuck. Hot. But that’s enough for today. Don’t wreck your throat. Got work to do. Another message followed: a detailed meal plan and an exercise regimen. Develop those glutes. Work on that chest. Use this time for more than carnal desires. Mike took his orders seriously. He went straight to the garage and warmed up. The exercises were brutal: weighted hip thrusts, donkey kicks, heavy dumbbell presses, focused pectoral squeezes. Mike spent the afternoon sweating through them in his home gym, the image of the dildo, and Trent’s real cock, burning in his mind. He ate the bland chicken and rice, feeling the strange, urgent drive Trent’s orders instilled. His nipples, now so sensitive, rubbed raw against his shirt during chest presses, felt swollen, hypersensitive.
The key scraped in the lock just after four. Trent strode in, dropping the college bag slung over his massive shoulder, his face softening as he saw Mike coming to greet him. "Hey, Daddy", he purred, bringing Mike in for a big hug. "Did my boy survive? You haven't destroyed any orifices with your new toy?" His dark eyes raked over Mike, who was still sweating after his own workout. Mike nodded into Trent's chest. "Just about. I missed you." Mike felt silly, being so needy, but they had developed such an honest bond already, so quickly, he didn't want to hold back.
"Baby, I missed you so much", Trent responded, crushing Mike into him tighter. "But I am here now. And I need to sweat." Mike pulled back in excitement. "Not that, not yet. Exercise, then we'll get to your whore needs" He kissed Mike on the nose.
"Stretch for me," Trent commanded, his voice a low rumble. "In just the jock. I need to lift some weights."
Mike stripped off his shirt and sweatpants, leaving only the tight, straining jockstrap. The cool air raised goosebumps on his hairy chest and back. He started his post-workout stretches on the mat near the pull-up bars, feeling delightfully exposed. Trent stripped out of his sweats and grabbed a pair of thin, flimsy shorts from his bag that left nothing to the imagination. Trent began his own routine – heavy squats, deadlifts, bench presses. The sounds filled the basement gym: the clank of plates, Trent’s powerful grunts, the rhythmic hiss of his breath. Mike watched, transfixed, as muscles swelled and veins snaked under Trent’s dark skin with each punishing rep. Trent looked back as Mike continued stretching, his puffy pussy on clear display, testing Trent's discipline more than the punishing exercises. Sweat flew off him, staining the thin fabric of his shorts, plastering them to his ass, making the outline of his dick unmistakably thick and heavy.
Trent finished, chest heaving, pouring water over his head. He stalked towards Mike, who was bent over in a hamstring stretch. Trent’s sweat dripped onto Mike’s back. "Now, my limber Daddy, how about you go get your new toy?" Trent ordered, his voice thick. "Playtime."
Mike scrambled up, retrieved the still-suction-cupped dildo from the drawer he had allocated it in the kitchen. Trent had already grabbed a large bottle of lube from a hidden corner shelf. He pointed to the pull-up bar. "Grab it. Hang. Legs spread wide. Feet up on here," He tapped the crossbar supports. Mike obeyed, jumping up to grip the bar, his body dangling, feet off the ground, finding their support. The position thrust his ass down and out obscenely in the tight jockstrap.
Trent moved under him. Mike gasped as Trent’s warm, wet tongue licked a broad, flat path right over his exposed hole. Then Trent pressed in, his tongue stiff and insistent, circling the tight rim, then spearing deep inside. Mike moaned, long and low, his grip tightening on the bar. Trent ate him with focused intensity, tongue swirling, probing, dragging back to suck hard on the puffy rim, making lewd, wet sucking sounds, then plunging back in. He alternated, stretching the ring with his thumbs, feeding spit deep inside and sucking it back out, over and over, working the hole relentlessly open, making it slick and pliant. Mike could feel the cool air mixing with Trent’s hot mouth, felt himself loosening, blooming open under the assault. "Fuck, Trent... oh god..." he groaned, hips shifting involuntarily.
Trent pulled back, leaving Mike’s hole glistening and gaping slightly. He guided Mike down and bent him over the workout bench. He poured a generous stream of thick, clear lube directly into the cleft of Mike’s ass, letting it pool around the pink, swollen ring. Mike felt the cool liquid drip down his taint. Then, with a decisive thud, he slammed the suction cup base of the dildo onto its flat, sturdy surface. The massive black cock stood rigidly upright. Trent poured more lube over its length, slicking it thoroughly with his big hand, pumping it slowly, making obscene, wet sounds. The head glistened under the gym lights.
"Ride it for me, cowboy," Trent commanded, stepping back, his own massive cock visibly straining the soaked fabric of his shorts. His chest was still heaving, sweat tracing the deep groove down his abs. "Get that hole stretched for me. Take it deep."
Mike’s legs trembled as he stood up straight. He walked on shaky legs to where the massive cock was protruding, the lube slick between his cheeks. He looked at the dildo, then at Trent. The hunger in Trent’s eyes was primal. Mike positioned himself, legs wide, his back to Trent. He reached back, guiding the thick, slippery head against his hole. He bore down, grunting. The resistance was intense, even after the tongue-fucking. He pushed harder, feeling the huge head begin to breach him, spreading him wide. A guttural moan ripped from his throat as the widest part popped past the ring, the sudden stretch a burning ache that instantly morphed into a shocking, deep thrill. He sank down slowly, impaling himself inch by agonizing, exquisite inch, the ridged veins dragging against his inner walls. "Fuuuuck!" he breathed, head falling back as the base of the dildo finally pressed against his ass cheeks. He was filled, stretched obscenely wide. He rocked tentatively, the sensation overwhelming, a deep, internal pressure that sent sparks up his spine.
"Yeah, work it," Trent rasped, his voice rough. He had pulled his own cock free from the shorts. It sprang out, thick, long, and already leaking pre-cum from its broad purple head. He fisted it slowly, his gaze locked on Mike bouncing slowly on the dildo, his hairy ass clenching around the massive silicone shaft. "Fuck yourself on my cock, Mike. Take it all." Trent stepped close, the head of his real cock brushing against Mike's spit-slicked lips. "Suck."
Mike didn’t hesitate. He opened his mouth, strained forward, and took Trent’s girthy head past his lips. Salt and musk exploded on his tongue. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing his head as best he could while simultaneously riding the dildo deep into his ass. The dual penetration was shattering – the hard, thick cock filling his mouth, stretching his jaw, the monstrous fake cock pistoning in and out of his ass, hitting depths that made his vision blur. He groaned around Trent’s dick, the vibrations making Trent hiss and thrust harder. Slobber ran down Mike’s chin, mixing with sweat, his thigh muscles beginning to ache already, but he didn't care. His own neglected cock was rock hard and dripping, trapped in the jockstrap. Trent’s hand tightened in his hair, guiding his rhythm. "Yeah, take it," Trent grunted, hips snapping, feeding more of his cock down Mike’s throat. "Suck my dick while you ride that fake one. Get that fucking hole ready for the real thing." Mike gagged, tears springing to his eyes, but pushed back harder onto the dildo, driving it deep as he swallowed Trent down, lost in the filthy, overwhelming bliss of being used. The sounds – the wet slap of skin on skin, Trent’s grunts, Mike’s choked gurgles around his mouthful, the slick squelch of the dildo plunging into his well-lubed hole – filled the basement, a symphony of raw, explicit need.
The symphony of grunts, wet slaps, and the obscene schlick-schlick of the massive dildo plunging deep into Mike’s slick hole crescendoed. Trent’s thick cock stretched Mike’s lips wide, bumping the back of his throat relentlessly. "Switch," Trent commanded, his voice a guttural rasp, pulling his glistening dick from Mike’s mouth with a slick pop. Mike gasped for air, spit and pre-cum stringing from his chin, his ass still rhythmically clenching down on the thick silicone shaft. "Ride me now. Suck the fake one."
Mike scrambled off the dildo, the sudden emptiness making him whimper. He stumbled, thighs burning, turning to face Trent’s massive, dripping cock. Trent grabbed his hips, guiding him roughly backwards until the thick head pressed against Mike’s well-prepped, gaping hole. "Fuck, yeah, take it," Trent growled, lifting Mike slightly before letting him sink down. Mike cried out as Trent’s real cock, thicker and hotter than the toy, speared him open, the stretch deeper, more demanding. He felt impossibly full, stretched wide around the hard shaft. Trent pulled him down harder, balls-deep. "Now suck that dildo. Get it sloppy."
Mike leaned forward, his body straining, Trent’s cock buried in his ass, and took the cold, lube-slicked head of the black dildo into his mouth. He worked it with lips and tongue, mimicking Trent’s earlier assault on his own hole. He sucked hard, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing slightly as Trent began to lift him up and slam him back down onto his thick cock. The dual sensations were shattering: the brutal impalement below, the thick, unyielding silicone stretching his jaw, the taste of cold lubricant. "Work that fucking hole, Mike," Trent grunted, driving up into him, his balls slapping against Mike’s ass cheeks. "Suck that fake cock like it’s feeding you." Mike gagged around the dildo, tears streaming, spit coating its length, his body a conduit between the two instruments Trent commanded.
"Switch back," Trent ordered, halting Mike’s descent. Mike pulled off the dildo, panting, strings of spit connecting him to its glistening tip. Trent lifted him entirely off his own cock, the sudden emptiness a shock, and guided Mike’s mouth back onto his aching dick. "Ride the toy again. Deep." Mike obeyed, sinking back onto the thick dildo with a choked groan, then taking Trent’s length back down his throat. They switched back and forth at Trent’s barked commands – impaled on flesh while sucking silicone, impaled on silicone while sucking flesh. Each switch was a jolt, a new angle of penetration lighting Mike’s nerves on fire. "Fuck yeah, look at that hole," Trent panted, watching Mike’s stretched pussy swallow the dildo whole. "Took that fake cock like a champ. You’re ready, Daddy. So fucking ready for more."
Mike felt the pressure building, unbearable, deep in his groin. "Trent... fuck... I'm gonna... can't..." he slurred around Trent’s cock. Trent pulled his dick free, glistening wet. "Do it. Cum on the toy. Show me." Mike scrambled back, his thick cock straining purple against the jockstrap fabric. He grabbed it, fisting desperately as he positioned his slit over the bulbous head of the black dildo. With a ragged shout, thick ropes of cum spurted violently onto the silicone, coating the head, streaking down the shaft. "Oh fuck... oh!" Mike shuddered, painting the fake cock white.
"Good boy," Trent murmured, stepping close. "Now sit on it." Dazed, Mike lowered his trembling body back onto the dildo, the cum-slicked head pressing against his stretched hole, then sliding deep inside, mixing lube and jizz. Trent guided his cock back to Mike's mouth. "Suck me off. Now." Mike opened wide, taking Trent in, tasting salt and musk. Trent fucked his mouth with slow, deep thrusts. "That’s it, suck Daddy’s dick," he groaned. Mike gagged, tears flowing freely now, his ass full of the toy coated in his own cum. Trent’s thrusts grew erratic, his balls tightening. "Take it all, whore," he snarled, and Mike felt the hot, thick pulses hit the back of his throat. He swallowed convulsively as Trent emptied himself, holding Mike’s head firmly. "Suck it clean." Mike sucked, licking the softening shaft, swallowing every drop.
Trent pulled free. "Now suck that clean," he ordered, nodding at the cum-smeared dildo still buried in Mike’s ass. Mike leaned forward again, the movement shifting the toy inside him. He took the sticky, slick head into his mouth, licking his own cum off the silicone, tasting the salt and the faint bitterness mixed with lube. He worked it clean, his ass instinctively clenching around the shaft as he sucked. Trent watched, a possessive satisfaction on his face. "Good fucking hole," he breathed.
They lay spent sprawled over the padded workout bench, side by side, still naked and glistening. The air hung thick with sex, sweat, and lube. Trent traced gentle patterns on Mike's heaving chest, fingertips brushing sensitively over his swollen nipples, grounding him. "You okay, big guy?" he asked softly, his earlier dominance softened. Mike nodded, still breathless, turning his head to press a kiss against Trent’s sweaty shoulder. "More than okay. Fuck." They stayed like that, the silence comfortable, broken only by their slowing breaths, the slow glide of Trent’s hand soothing Mike’s trembling muscles.
Eventually, Trent slapped Mike’s thigh lightly. "Come on. Food. Let's keep that meal plan going." Mike groaned but hauled himself up, feeling the deep, satisfying ache in his ass, his thighs. They cleaned up quickly in the downstairs bathroom, cold water to shock them back to reality. Pulling on loose shorts, they moved back into the kitchen, which smelled faintly of coffee and Trent’s cologne, a stark contrast to the gym musk. Mike moved on autopilot, pulling chicken breasts and rice from the fridge. He seasoned the chicken heavily – they both liked flavour – and got it sizzling in the pan.
Trent leaned against the counter, watching him, a lazy smile on his face. "I've been thinking today," Mike said, flipping the chicken. "Whilst you were sucking that giant dildo, or...?" Trent quipped. "Fuck off. Things I want to do. Like... update my wardrobe? The stuff I wear usually, not around the house," he gestured at his old baggy sweatpants, "feels wrong now. And the way the place is set up, maybe we could have a dedicated space? For us? A proper fuck room. Soundproofed. A place for everything. And permanent fixtures... And the bathroom? That tub’s too small for us both and..." He glanced at Trent. "I just thought that, maybe... if... if making those videos helps pay for it? We should do it. For us. Properly. Anonymously."
Trent’s smile widened. "Yeah? Seriously?" He pulled his phone from his pocket. "Check this." He opened a private browser window, navigating to a sleek, minimalist site filled with thumbnails – all close-ups of Trent's massive cock. The titles were explicit, giving more detail, usual to some verbal roleplay - "Daddy Wants You To Take It" and "Suck It, Bitch" leapt out at him. He opened his account dashboard. Mike’s eyes widened at the income figures listed, the recent payouts. "Fuck me," Mike breathed, genuinely staggered. "That much? For... for that?"
"For that," Trent confirmed, putting the phone down. "I’ll fund what you want. Now. The wardrobe, the room, the bath, whatever. We start immediately. The money? It's ours. Shared. We replenish it with our videos. New account. Just us." Excitement crackled between them, thick as the scent of frying chicken. Mike felt a thrill completely separate from sex – possibility. Trent grabbed his laptop. "Watch." He quickly edited a short teaser of the first video they had recorded the night before; close-ups of Mike’s stretched, wet hole, Trent’s thick cock sliding against it, Mike’s mouth stretched wide – no faces, no identifiable marks. He sent it, encrypted, to two specific contacts from his own client list. "Guys with deep pockets," Trent explained. "Love a sloppy, gaping pussy. Especially one being trained like yours."
The replies came within minutes. Offers. High offers. Very high. For exclusive three-month viewer rights only. No distribution. No public leaks. Trent negotiated swiftly, fingers flying. Mike, energized, called a contractor Trent recommended, setting up a site visit for the next morning to discuss the new fuck room and bathroom. By the time they sat down to eat the chicken and rice, Trent had finalized two deals, the sums transferred and confirmed. "Wardrobe tomorrow afternoon too," Trent said, shovelling food in. "Got ideas. Clothes that show off the work we’re putting in." He winked.
The adrenaline, the filthy money, the plans – it had them both buzzing, electric. Mike’s cock stirred again despite the deep ache. "The sling?" Mike asked, hope thick in his voice. "Now?" Trent shook his head, chewing. "Nah. Let's keep that ride for the weekend. That thing deserves a proper session. Not a quick fuck." He stood, clearing plates. "Come with me, Daddy."
The heated, glass-enclosed back porch was warm, smelling of damp earth and the faint herbal scent Trent pulled from his stash. He sat on the wide cushioned outdoor sofa, legs spread. Mike settled between them on a cushion that now lived in that exact spot, leaning back against Trent’s solid thigh. Trent sparked the joint, took a deep drag, and held it for Mike. He inhaled, the smoke smooth, the warmth from Trent’s body seeping into him. He nuzzled his face against the soft fabric of Trent’s shorts, feeling the growing heat and heaviness beneath. He mouthed him gently through the material, the familiar musk cutting through the weed. Trent sighed, a hand coming down to stroke Mike’s hair. "If this ain't the fuckin' life, I don't know what is". Mike looked at him and smiled, his eyes wet. They passed the joint in comfortable silence, observing the night sky and distant stars beyond the glass, Mike’s lips brushing Trent’s cock with each slow exhalation.
The joint was a glowing ember. Trent stubbed it out. "Come on. I've got an idea. Something new."
Upstairs, in Trent’s room – the scent of cologne and sex still lingering – they stripped slowly. Trent pushed Mike onto his back, then lay half on top of him, their bodies aligning. Skin to skin, chest to chest, cock to cock. "Just rub," Trent murmured, shifting his hips. Their erections slid together, trapped between their stomachs, pre-cum slicking the way. Trent pressed down, grinding slowly, his thick shaft rubbing the length of Mike’s shorter, sturdier cock. Mike moaned, the friction exquisite, different from penetration – a full-body press, hot skin sliding, muscles flexing. Trent’s heavy balls pressed against Mike’s. They moved together, finding a rhythm, the wet slide of their cocks creating a lewd, sticky sound. "Fuck yeah," Trent breathed against Mike’s neck, his hips circling, grinding harder. "Just like that."
The pressure built fast, a deep, rolling wave. Mike clawed at Trent’s back, gasping. "Close... Trent... oh fuck..." Trent grunted, his thrusts becoming frantic, grinding their cocks together hard. Mike came first with a choked gasp, hot streaks painting both their stomachs and chests. Trent followed seconds later, groaning Mike’s name, adding thick pulses to the mess, his body shuddering. They collapsed, breath ragged, slick with a sheen of sweat and streaks of drying cum. Trent shifted just enough to pull the covers over them, his arm heavy across Mike’s chest. Mike nestled his head into the crook of Trent’s shoulder, the scent of sex, weed, and their mingled sweat enveloping him. Exhaustion, deep and complete, pulled him under before Trent’s breathing evened out into sleep.