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This is the first chapter of a story that contains SCAT and BDSM. Do not read it if these topics offend you. The main submissive's name is Faggot throughout. If this word offends you, please do not read.
This story is the result of my tinkering with AI story generators. I wanted to generate the most vulgar story I could. In order to maintain the voice of the story that I wanted to tell, I have modified whole chunks of the AI's creation while leaving other portions alone.
Trucker Jack Chapter 5
Faggot's eyes fluttered open to the harsh light of morning, his body aching from the relentless night of abuse. The cold tiles under him were a stark reminder of his current situation. He lay in the shower, water pooling around him, his muscles screaming for relief. Every inch of him felt violated, but there was a strange sense of numbness that had settled over him. He wasn't sure if it was resignation or something more dangerous--a twisted acceptance of his fate.
He looked around the room and two truckers were taking their morning shower, and another pair were exchanging handjobs. None seemed to care that a chained faggot was in the center of the room regaining consciousness. His eyes connected with one of the showering drivers. The driver grabbed his washcloth and started stroking his cock. He winked and blew faggot a kiss. Faggot knew today wasn't going to be a day for recovery.
Faggot could hear footsteps approaching, and his heart skipped a beat. Dave stood there, his imposing form blocking out much of his view of anything else. His presence was a constant source of dread and anticipation.
"Time to get up, kid," Dave said gruffly, his voice cutting through the fog of Faggot's mind. "You've got more men to service."
Faggot groaned, pushing himself up with trembling arms. The world spun for a moment, and he had to steady himself against the wall. Dave watched him with a mix of amusement and impatience.
"Come on, no time for resting," Dave prodded, grabbing Faggot by the arm and pulling him to his feet.
Faggot stumbled, still half-asleep and disoriented. Dave led him out of the shower room and around to the bathroom, the chain securing him to the shower and toilet area dragged behind him. The air was thick with humidity, and the smell of stale urine clung to the walls. Faggot's stomach churned as they entered the adjacent area, but he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.
In the center of the bathroom's wall was an elevated rimseat, positioned between two toilets with no partitions for privacy. Faggot swallowed hard. This was going to be another round of humiliating shit eating, and he knew it.
"Get under there," Dave ordered, pointing to the rimseat. "And stay put. I want you to beg to be the toilet paper of any man who takes a dump in these toilets. You got that?"
Faggot laid on the platform, then slid himself under the seat with his body laying behind. Once satisfied with Faggot's "Yes Sir," Dave left.
Faggot waited, his heart pounding in his chest. The thought of what was coming next made his skin crawl, he pretty much gave up on anything, and just accepted that he would have to perform as that's what was expected of him.
Footsteps echoed from the locker area, growing louder as someone approached. Faggot's breath hitched as a shirtless man in his 50s, wearing only overalls came into view. He was very hairy, bald, and had a thick blonde mustache that contrasted sharply with his weathered face.
The man stepped into the bathroom, scratching his head as he looked around. His eyes landed on the rimseat, and a look of eagerness crossed his face.
"Well, ain't this a sight," he muttered, shaking his head. He walked over to one of the toilets, unhooked his overalls, and they dropped down to his ankles. He sat down, and his shit exploded out of his ass into the bowl.
A few quiet moments passed as Faggot's mind raced. He knew what was expected of him, what Dave ordered. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the inevitable. "Sir," he called out, his voice quivering. "I can... I can help you with that."
The man glanced down, his eyes narrowing as he noticed Faggot under the rimseat. "Oh, really?' he playfully said, a sly grin spreading across his face. "And just how do you plan on doing that?"
Faggot's cheeks flushed with shame, but he forced himself to continue. "I can... I can clean you up, sir. If you let me."
The man chuckled, leaning back slightly. "Well, that is why I'm back here. Let's see what you've got."
The man stood and stepped to the rimseat with difficulty from his overalls around his ankles. His hairy ass loomed above the toilet's face.
Faggot could see a little bit of brown in the driver's ass crack. But he couldn't stop now. He had to go through with this.
The man sat down, pressing his ass onto Faggot's face. The scent was overpowering, a mix of sweat, musk, and shit that made his eyes water. He closed them, focusing on the task at hand. His tongue slid out, licking gingerly at the man's shit covered hole.
The man let out a low moan, his body tensing as Faggot's tongue worked its way around his asshole. "Yeah, that's it," he muttered, his voice strained with pleasure. "Keep going, boy." The man's balls bounced on Faggot's forehead.
Faggot's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. The humiliation was unbearable, but there was also a strange thrill in the dominance, in the power the man held over him. It was twisted, sickening, but undeniable.
As Faggot continued his ministrations, the man's breathing grew more erratic, his body shifting as he adjusted to the sensations. "Almost there," he grunted, his voice thick with anticipation. "Don't stop now."
Faggot's tongue moved faster, driven by a mixture of obedience and necessity. He could feel the man's ass clenching, the muscles tightening as he erupted in climax.
"Fuck!"
After a few body aftershocks the trucker stood, his muscles tensing as he pulled away from Faggot's face. He turned, wiping his fingers on Faggot's lips, smearing the cum that had oozed there.
"I figure you earned this."
Faggot's eyes flickered up, meeting the man's gaze for a fleeting moment before he lowered them.
"Lick it off," the trucker commanded, his voice a low growl. Faggot hesitated, but only for a second. He extended his tongue, licking the thick fluid from the man's fingers, tasting the bitter tang of sweat and salt. The overalls trucker watched with satisfaction, a cruel grin spreading across his face as Faggot complied.
The driver sat back down on Faggot's face. Once again the deep probing tongue returned into his asshole, and the driver's whole body relaxed.
Just then, the trucker who a few minutes ago blew Faggot a kiss stepped still naked into the room from the shower. He was muscular but stocky, his body mostly hairless, save for a light dusting of chest hair. His cock hung heavy between his legs, already half-erect and twitching with anticipation. He moved with a deliberate pace, his ass sitting down on the toilet next to Faggot eating ass under the rimseat.
"Hey," the new trucker said, his voice deep and resonant. "Is this the fag everyone's been talking about?"
The first trucker nodded. "Yeah, that's him."
The new trucker smirked, eyeing Faggot with interest. "He any good at toilet paper service?"
The overalls trucker chuckled. "Oh, you could say that. He's one of the best ass-licking clean-up jobs I've ever had here."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Really?"
The first trucker leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "His tongue is insanely flexible."
"You don't have to whisper here. Every driver that comes back here knows the crazy shit that goes on." He then started to take a shit.
"The first driver laughs. "Haha. I guess you're right. No, his tongue, it glides right in, doesn't miss a spot. And he's got this way of moving it around that just drives you crazy. Makes you feel like you're being cleaned out by a goddamn snake."
The new trucker's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Sounds like just what I need."
The overalls trucker stood up, making room as the new trucker moved from his toilet. He sat down heavily, his large frame settling onto the seat with a thud.
"Alright, boy," the driver said, his voice firm. "Get to it."
Faggot could smell the faint scent of soap and sweat, mingling together in a heady mix that made his stomach churn. But he knew it was better than eating a full shit. Not after everything he's eaten so far.
Leaning back slightly, the driver relaxed, blowing a fart in faggot's mouth. Faggot closed his eyes, trying to block out the humiliation, but it was impossible. He could feel the warmth of the man's body above him, the weight of his presence pressing down.
The new trucker let out a satisfied sigh. "I see what you mean. Clean me up, boy."
Faggot hesitated, his stomach roiling. But the pressure of the asscrack pressed against his face gave him the motivation. He extended his tongue, extending it deeper into the man's asshole. The flesh was warm and soft, the skin slightly damp from the urine.
"That's it," the trucker murmured, his voice gravelly with pleasure. "Keep going."
Faggot pressed closer; his tongue felt the inner edge of the man's hole sliding down his tongue. The taste was sharp, acrid, but he forced himself to keep licking, swirling his tongue around the edges, probing all depths that he could. The trucker's muscles clenched around his tongue, pulling him in further.
"Fuck, yeah," the driver groaned, his hands gripping the sides of the toilet seat. "You're good, boy. Real good."
Faggot's cheeks burned with shame, but he continued his task, driven by the need to please, to survive. His tongue worked furiously, cleaning every inch of the man's asshole, pushing past the resistance to reach the deepest parts. The man's breathing grew heavier, his body trembling as he neared climax.
"Almost there," the trucker muttered, his voice strained. "Don't stop now."
Faggot's tongue moved faster, driven by a mixture of fear and obedience. He could feel the man's ass clenching, the muscles tightening as he approached the edge. Then, without warning, the man's hips bucked, grinding his ass against Faggot's face as he came.
"Ahhh!" the trucker cried out, his voice echoing off the walls. "Take it, boy! Take it all!"
Faggot gagged, the force of the truck driver's orgasm pushing his tongue deeper into the man's ass. He could feel the warmth spreading, the sticky ass slime coating his tongue as the driver shot his load. The trucker's muscles spasmed, holding Faggot's tongue in place as he emptied himself completely.
Finally, the trucker relaxed, his body slumping back onto the toilet seat. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice weak with exhaustion. "That was amazing."
The first trucker added, "I told ya."
Faggot retracted his tongue, gasping for air as he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. The trucker looked down at him, a satisfied smile on his face. He blew Faggot a kiss, just like he did in the shower.
"Jesus Christ. That was... Whew!"
Dave came in and clapped his hands. "All right! Time to pack your shit up, Faggot! It's time to meet the big guy."
The first driver buttoning up his overalls said, "Either you did something right or something wrong if Hank wants to see you." Faggot gave a brief quiet sigh and followed Dave.
Dave led Faggot through a maze of corridors, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, walls. The air was thick with tension, and Faggot could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what was coming next, and that thought made his stomach churn.
They arrived at a wooden door marked "General Manager." Dave gave it a firm knock, and after a moment, the door swung open to reveal Hank, easily the alpha male of this place. His ginger and gray beard contrasted sharply with his short dark blonde hair, and his thick torso strained against his tank top, which clung to his body like a second skin. His nipples prominently caused a peak on both sides. Copper and grey chest hair poured over the top. A huge bulge pushed against the fabric of the jock, hinting at the size of what lay beneath. This was a very thick man, with muscles deriving from years of hard work.
"Come on in," Hank said, his voice gruff and commanding. Dave stepped aside, allowing Faggot to enter first. Once inside, Dave nodded to Hank and left without another word, leaving Faggot alone with the towering figure.
Hank closed the door behind them and turned to face Faggot. "So, you're the one they've been talking about," he said, his eyes piercing through Faggot. "Heard you were well received by the truckers here." Hank waited for a response; none came. "I don't read minds. Speak up."
Faggot swallowed hard, his mouth dry. "I... I guess so," he stammered.
Hank pointed to a rimseat on the floor off to the side, its cold, unforgiving construction glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights. "Get under it," he ordered.
Faggot hesitated for a moment, but the look in Hank's eyes left no room for protest. Slowly, he laid down.
"No, lay with your body behind me. I want to experience your tongue and only your tongue. I don't want to see the rest of you."
Faggot scrambled and positioned himself beneath the rimseat as Hank wanted, the clean-up sheet pressing into his back. His breathing quickened as he waited for what was to come.
Already stripped to a tight tank top and a very dirty jock strap, Hank approached slowly, his massive form casting a shadow over Faggot. He first bent over, pulled Faggot's wrists in front of the seat, and quickly attached a double snap clip to Faggot's wrists. Then he attached the collar to the seat with a second snap clip. There was no way for the fag to get out from under there, at least not without some effort.
He pulled his jock pouch to the side, revealing a large, imposing dick that hung heavy between his legs. The ginger, hairy ass descended to sit on the seat, and Faggot felt the weight of it pressing down on him.
"Been having some diarrhea issues lately," Hank admitted, his voice casual, as if discussing the weather. "Thought you might be able to help me out with that." He smiled at Faggot.
Faggot shuddered at the thought, but before he could respond, Hank shifted slightly, and Faggot felt something warm and wet shoot out of Hank's hole and into his mouth. He gagged, the taste instantly overwhelming his senses. It was thick, foul, and utterly degrading.
Hank seemed to take pleasure in Faggot's reaction, his breath hitching with amusement. "Don't you dare throw up, bitch. You're here to serve. Make sure you clean every last bit of it."
Faggot's eyes watered as he forced himself to lick the mess from Hank's asshole, the taste unbearable. Each swipe of his tongue felt like an eternity, and he could hear Hank's satisfaction growing with each passing second.
"Good bitch," Hank murmured, his hand reaching down to stroke his cock. "Keep going. Don't stop until I say so. I want you down there for a while. I may have some more squirts for you."
Hank leaned back, his beefy thighs spread wide, exposing Faggot to the full extent of his rugged, masculine form. The muscles in Hank's ass and thighs were pronounced, each curve and ridge a testament to years of physical labor. His asshole was a dark, puckered circle nestled between his cheeks, surrounded by a patch of ginger hair that filled the crack of his ass. The hair was coarse and wiry, standing out against the paleness of his skin, which was dusted with a light sheen of sweat.
"I want you to tell me how much you love me feeding you my runny shit."
Faggot not knowing how to react, as this was the first time anyone asked for his opinion. Faggot's nostrils flared as he took in the scent of Hank's ass, a mix of musk and something more primal. He could feel the rough texture of Hank's skin under his tongue, the way it stretched and flexed with every movement of his body. The taste was pungent, a sharp contrast to the blandness of Hank's earlier squirt. It was overwhelming, yet there was a strange allure to it, a sense of inevitability that made Faggot's cock twitch despite the humiliation. "Um, it's delicious Sir."
Hank's voice broke through Faggot's reverie, deep and commanding. "You think you can just say what you think I want to hear, don't you, boy?' His tone was mocking, but there was an underlying edge of satisfaction. Hank decided to play along, "So then tell me, what do you like best about eating MY ass?"
Faggot hesitated, his mind racing. He knew better than to lie--Hank would see right through it. But the truth was just as humiliating. "I... I like the taste," he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's... strong, but it makes me feel... needed. Like I'm really serving you."
Hank chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through his chest. "Needed, huh? You're a twisted little fuck, aren't you? Keep going. Tell me more."
Faggot swallowed hard, his throat constricting around the words. "And... and I like how you control everything just like my..." Faggot didn't know how to refer to Jack. So he went with "...just like my Sir. It makes me feel... useful. Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."
Hank's eyes gleamed with approval; the bitch actually gave a good answer. His hand reached down to stroke his thick, erect cock. "That's more like it." Hank squeezed out more diarrhea. "Now, keep swallowing, and let's see if you mean what you say."
Faggot nodded, his pressed his lips against the puckered flesh, feeling the slight give as he slid his tongue inside. The taste was intense, almost overpowering, but Faggot focused on the sensation, the way his tongue felt as it explored the depths of Hank's rectum. A violent flow of more liquid flew across his tongue into his mouth. He swallowed as fast as he could before returning to licking. He pushed deeper, exploring every fold and crevice, his nose pressing against the coarse hair that lined Hank's crack.
Hank groaned, his grip tightening on his cock. "Fuck, that's it. Take it all, boy. Make sure you get every last bit."
Faggot obeyed, his tongue working tirelessly to clean Hank's asshole. He could feel the muscles in Hank's thighs tense and relax with each thrust of his tongue, the way they pressed against his cheeks, forcing him to take more. It was a brutal, relentless rhythm, and Faggot found himself getting lost in it, his own twisted reluctant pleasure building with each passing moment.
As he worked, Faggot couldn't help but notice the way Hank's asshole pulsed around his tongue, the way it seemed to suck him in, drawing him deeper. It was a strange, almost hypnotic sensation, and Faggot found himself craving it, wanting to lose himself in the experience completely. His breath came in ragged gasps, his face slick with sweat, saliva, and Hank's diarrhea.
Hank's voice cut through his thoughts again, "Now it's time to try out your other hole." He stood up and looked down. "You are a mess." He aimed his fat cock and let go a torrent of piss. "Don't open your mouth yet. Just here to wash you off.... You are one dirty pig."
Hank did try to clean some of his splatters off Faggot.
"Open." Faggot opened his mouth, and Hank's piss filled it. "Good bitch. Someone trained you well."
He shook his last few drops and then tucks it back under his jock.
"Well, aren't you a mess? Get up."
Hank unclipped Faggot's wrists from each other and then the collar from the rimseat. He moved with efficiency, as he has been using snap clips as his preferred locking mechanism for securing fags and slaves for decades.
Faggot moved to Hank's desk and bent over it as instructed, his hands gripping the edge as he faced the door. The cool wood pressed against his bare skin, sending a shiver down his spine. Hank, wearing only his tank top, clipped his Faggot's wrists to hooks mounted on the desktop, and his ankles to the desk's legs, stretching him out firmly and securely.
Hank retrieved a device from one of the cabinets. It was like a C-clamp except that it had rubber balls. Hank put it around Faggot's neck and the balls pressed into the fag's cheeks.
Faggot opened his mouth due to the pressure from the tension between the two arms pulling inward. This allowed the device to move in to keep his jaws separated. It was perfect for throat rapes.
Hank stood behind him, his muscular frame casting a shadow over Faggot. The room was filled with the heavy scent of sweat and sex, a heady mix that made Faggot's nerves buzz with anticipation.
Hank's hand wrapped around Faggot's waist, pulling him back until their bodies were flush. Faggot could feel the heat radiating from Hank's skin, the rough texture of his calloused fingers digging into his flesh. Hank's cock, thick and hard, pressed against Faggot's hole, preheating, panting, eager to enter.
"Ready, boy?' Hank's voice was low, almost a growl. "Don't care if you're not."
Faggot felt the blunt head of Hank's cock press against his entrance, then slowly, inexorably, begin to push inside. The sensation was overwhelming, a sharp sting followed by a deep, throbbing pleasure that spread through his body like wildfire.
Hank's thrusts were deliberate, each one driving deeper into Faggot's tight channel. Faggot bit down on his lip, trying to stifle the moans that threatened to escape. The pressure was intense, but it was also addictive, each thrust bringing him closer to the edge of ecstasy.
Just as Faggot began to lose himself in the rhythm, the sound of Hank's phone buzzing on the desk broke the spell. Hank reached over, still embedded deep inside Faggot, and glanced at the text. His face hardened as he muttered "Your owner's here," more to himself than to Faggot. He spoke in a louder tone, "Dave's showing him to the office."
Hank's grip on Faggot's waist tightened, and his thrusts became more aggressive, more urgent. Faggot could feel the change in Hank's demeanor, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each powerful stroke. It was as if Hank was trying to imprint himself on Faggot, leaving no doubt of who was in control.
Hank grabbed Faggot by the hair with one hand and yanked his head back so that his gaping mouth would be on display. With his other hand, he reached up to his nipple and gave it a twist and a tug.
The door to the office swung open, and Jack stepped inside, Dave right behind him. The sight that greeted them was nothing short of carnal. Faggot was bent over the desk, his ass high in the air and his gaping mouth facing forward. Hank pounded into him with relentless force.
Dave stated, "Sorry for interrupting."
Both Hank and Jack did not respond. They both looked at each other.
Hank was the first to speak, "Jack?' He stopped fucking Faggot.
Jack started to smile, "Hank? What the hell are you doing here?"
"I could ask you the same."
Dave watched this back and forth. "You two, you know each other?"
Hank pulled out of Faggot and responded, "Yeah, I have known this sadistic bastard for over twenty years when we used to drive together." Hank walked around the desk. His thick eight inch cock still rock hard led the way. "He's the one that got me into using faggots and slaves the way they should be."
Jack quickly replied, "And you were the one who got me into using them as toilets."
Hank went in for a hug. Jack turned so that Hanks cock didn't stab him in the leg. They embrace and give each other very masculine pats on the back. They looked at each other happy to be in each other's arms.
"So this is your fag cunt?' Hank pulled away and started to walk back to the desk.
"You could say that."
Hank addressed Dave, "Leave us be." Dave nodded and left closing the door behind him.
Hank walked back to Faggot's cunt. He looked Jack directly in the eye and shoved his cock into Faggot right to the root. It was almost a challenge.
Jack, completely oblivious to the challenge, looked at his former driving partner. "Damn! You beefed up." He hauled out his cock and walked up to Faggot's head.
"And your cock is still that monster."
He waves the semi hard cock at his long-time partner, "Yeah, you want a ride on it?'
"Fuck no! I made that mistake once. Not again."
"Not ready to be my bitch again hunh?"
"Nope. It took me years for you to take me seriously."
Jack smiled and shoved it into Faggot's gaping hole of a mouth. The two fucked hard and deliberate. Nothing spoken, but they lustfully kept checking each other out.
Jack stopped. He pulled off the device around Faggot's head. "This thing is pressing into my cock." Without adjusting his fuck, Hank tossed the device to the side of his desk.
Hank was getting close. He reached under for Faggot's nipples. Once he found them. He dug his thumbnail into each. There was no ramp up in intensity. This was to cause a large amount of pain in a short amount of time.
Instantly Faggot's body tensed up. His cunt clamped down on Hank's cock bringing the manager closer to orgasm. Faggot screamed as best as he could around Jack's mammoth cock.
"Keep screaming Faggot." Jack, while holding on to Faggot's head and skull fucking him, looked up at Hank. "Yank those titties off."
Hank started his orgasm, as soon as he dug his nails in deeper. Faggot screamed louder around Jack's dick, causing him to begin his morning nut.
Hank shouted out and his body went rigid. Jack threw his head back and impaled Faggot's head to the root of his cock. Hank collapsed onto the fag's back.
Both men's breathing was pronounced. Slowly they kept their cocks buried inside of Faggot. They look at each other, both smiled. Hank remarked, "That brings back memories."
Jack nodded. "Damn! I needed that!" He slowly pulled out his spent dick, letting his dick head linger on Faggot's tongue for a few seconds of head cleaning.
Hank's cock, already half soft, flopped out of Faggot's cunt, bringing with it a large glop of cum. Seeing a few skid marks, the big manager walked around to Faggot's head to clean it off. "Your fag here is doing good. You trained him well."
Jack chuckled to himself. "I picked him up a couple of days ago. He was already trained. He told me that he was new to all this, but man he drank my piss and ate my dumps like he's been doing it for years."
"You interested in selling him?"
Jack paused, slowed his fucking of Faggot's mouth, and responded with a very casual, "Sure."
Hank sarcastically responded, "Well that sounds enthusiastic!"
"Yeah, well, I haven't been in the buying and selling of fagmeat in years. God, it goes back to the time when we were driving together. When we went our ways, I didn't have the desire to find potential slaves to sell. It's easier to just pick up a faggot somewhere, like I did shithead here, use him for a few days, leave him naked on the side of the road somewhere, and not look back. How much are you offering?"
"Well, I will check with the owner later on. If you were anybody else, I would have lowballed you an offer by now. I can't do that with you. You going to the Ranch?"
Jack wipes his hands on a rag from Hank's desk. "Hell yes. I just got to drop my load off by one. They've been calling me all morning. I'll bobtail it back here. I need to get going. We can catch up there."
Hank started unclipping Faggot. "If you need to grab some food out there, just let them out front know that you are a guest of mine."
"Is that Bobby still here. I need to take a dump, and I thought I would try him out."
"He's gone. Your slave here was under that rimseat before you got here."
"Too bad. I kinda liked his demeanor. Faggot! Get under that seat."
Faggot scurried under the rimseat laying behind the seat. Remnants of Hank's diarrhea splattered the floor.
Jack stood in front of the rimseat, dropped his sweatpants, and sat down, feeling the cold seat press against his bare ass. Faggot's tongue went right into action probing the trucker's asscrack. A fart escaped into Faggot's mouth.
Faggot's tongue was warm and wet, probing deep into Jack's shithole, licking and cleaning with an eagerness that Jack found oddly satisfying.
He glanced over at Hank, who was standing nearby, arms crossed, watching the scene with a mix of amusement and arousal. Jack had a past with Hank of using fags as toilets that it was nothing for one of them to feed in front of the other. Jack felt a sense of normalcy and comfort doing so here.
"So," Jack began, his voice low and steady. "How'd you end up running this dump? And how the hell did you manage to have all these drivers that pull in here into shit?"
Hank smiled, then chuckled. "Well. That's a long story."
"Give me the five-minute version. Shithead here is going to need some time when he gets to toilet paper duty." Jack started removing his sweatpants from his ankles, allowing his massive legs the ability to stretch wide. Once he tossed them aside, he unbuttoned his shirt showing off his hairy chest, knowing that Hank always had a thing for Jack's look.
"Oh fuck, I forgot how amazing your chest is. Hell, everything about you is!" He let out a sigh before answering the question. "Well once I got my own truck and started driving, I kept in contact with... I forgot his name. But he would hire me out for transport of new and sold slaves. When he had a heart attack, his business partner took over. That partner and I hit it off in a big way. He's very much like you, and me, with our mindset when it comes to using faggots. And he loves toilet service. I never met anyone who is into getting his ass eaten like him. While he comes from a lot of money, he didn't have much business sense for this. It was all handled by that guy, the one whose name eludes me."
Hank went from leaning back on his desk to hopping his bare ass on it.
"His slave workshop was closer to the city, in a tiny warehouse. I told him to buy a Ranch in the middle of nowhere, and he did. Then I told him that this place was up to be sold for nearly nothing. He didn't want to buy it, but I gave him the rundown. Ever since the state moved the highway because of the erosion of that horrible steep curve, this place is over a mile from the highway. It doesn't get casual traffic. Only certain drivers and men in the know will come out here. We made sure that this place fell off the map. The road here is not paved, lighting is limited, blocked by the hill and some trees it is not easily seen from afar, and the front store has been removed. It was perfect for him to use as a front for his selling of fag property. It's easy for us to load a slave or two into a cab discretely for transport across the country."
"What about the cops? They must know something is up."
"Of course they do. The sheriff is the ex of the owner. He's a total shit eater. I have fed him on a few occasions. The last time he was in full uniform. They were partners when I first met the owner, and he was just getting into law enforcement. I said he should be trained to run for sheriff as that would give us a heads up should any problems arise. He went to school, he got involved in the community fifteen miles away, and eventually he ran for sheriff. Everything about him screams straight and narrow conservative jerk, but in reality, he's a big old pig. One of his deputies frequents here, and he's into beating faggots. Have you been in our soundproof room? It's fucking amazing. We installed it so that the deputy can shred a faggot's back and no one hears. They know what they have going here, and what needs to be done to protect it."
Jack interrupted with a command, "Hey toilet. Get licking, we need to get rolling."
"You'll see. This organization is well constructed. Mostly due to me. I'm the one who convinced the owner to set up shell companies and obtain franchises for those two corporate truck stops at the offramp. Nobody there is going to complain about what they think might be going on here. No unknown driver is going to come back here on that awful road, and if they do, there's a turnout half a mile down so they can go back. Also, there's a network of perverts not only there but across a number of states that will be on the lookout for runaway strays. We have scouts all over the place looking for future property. You met one of them the other night, a biker named Spike."
"Oh yeah. Met him at that pull out you and I used to have a lot of fun at."
"Yeah, that pull out has been fertile ground for fags for the taking. Spike has been posting that that place is cruisy on a number of cruising websites, and the gays come out.
"He rides a motorcycle. What the fuck does he do with the fagmeat?"
"He texts one of our collectors. You met Daddy Rick? He just happened to be in the area to meet up with you. The scouts don't just seak out faggots, but men who know how faggots should be used. This is how we get our clientele here. Just about every driver back there has been scouted at one time or another."
"I was wondering how so many drivers just happened to be into shit."
"Yeah. Not all of them are. Some are into torturing faggots. Yet there are still some twisted enough to not care what they see. After twenty years of this, we have cultivated a network here that flies under the radar and manages to get men to do nasty things. And here I am, running this place. I have access to a number of fag toilets, and I get to watch other men use those fags. I walk around here like this, tank top and work boots with my cock flopping in the air and my ass ready to be eaten by the slaves. I get to help break in the new ones and sell off the older ones. Like that fag Bobby you liked. He's being sold off early next week. Got the order this morning. So you might get to play with him at the Ranch before he goes up for auction."
"Damn!"
"Yeah. The owner makes sure that slaves know that they can and will be sold at any time. When we buy yours he will be told the same thing."
"You hear that Faggot? It looks like you are going to be sold off." Jack smiled at Hank. "You done down there."
Faggot muffled an affirmative. His tongue was back to tongue fucking Jack.
"We need to get going."
Hank approached. "Why don't you leave the faggot here with us? We'll get him prepped for the Ranch."
"Prepped?"
"Yeah, all faggots, slaves, boys, subs, are to be cleaned out. When I was fucking him, I felt some fag mud. Faggots are always kept cleaned out. There's a spot outside you can dispose of your piss bottles and jugs. We use them to help douche out the fags. While your chastity cage is good for what you are looking for, the owner requires that ones with an inverter is installed. This pushes the shaft into the body, and it looks like the shaft is completely missing or that it has been cut off. And lastly, he's going to be shaved from the neck down. If we are going to buy him, we'll probably permanently denude him anyways. Which would you prefer, shaving or permanent?"
"Oh I don't know. I really don't care. You decide."
"Will do."
Feeling Faggot pull away from his shithole as if to say something, Jack cut him off, "Faggot this doesn't concern you. Get back to what you were made for doing." Then to Hank he added, "Make it permanent."
"Of course. You'll see. When you get to the Ranch, it has a set of rules in order to maintain what makes the Ranch so much fun."
Jack stood up. His dick was still half hard. Hank let out a sigh at seeing the nearly naked 6'5" trucker he once lusted after. Jack reached for his sweatpants.
"You don't have to put those back on." Jack looked at him. "Seriously, I walk around back here like this, or I wear a jock. I know you like to strut your stuff and show off. I see that smile. You haven't changed."
"And I see you still want my dick. You may be the top around here, but you want me to make you my bitch again."
"I remember the hell that it entailed, I'm fine with just looking at it."
With that, Hank led Jack out to the lobby area, where Jack picked up a couple of sandwiches and walked out to his cab in broad daylight wearing only an unbuttoned shirt and work boots. All the other drivers watched the massive man casually yet confidentially walk across the lot with his 10-inch dick swaying.
Hank could only see Jack's meaty ass and tree trunk legs, and that was enough to get his juices flowing, enough to get that part of his libido once hidden for so many years, active again.
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