My Bullies - Part Nine

Ethan lay there on the carpet, fingers still buried deep inside himself, pumping slowly as waves of unfamiliar pleasure rippled through his core. His hole clenched around the intrusion, slick and yielding, every crook of his digits brushing that spot that made his cock leak harder, pre-cum pooling on his stomach in sticky trails. The boys' eyes bored into him—hungry, amused, their own bulges more pronounced now in their pants. He couldn't stop the small, breathy moans escaping his lips, even as shame twisted in his gut like a knife.

Caleb watched for a moment longer, then stood abruptly. "Don't stop," he said over his shoulder as he slipped out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

Ethan's fingers faltered for a second, but Tyler's sharp "Keep going, slut" had him thrusting again, deeper, his free hand gripping his thigh tighter to hold himself open. The wait stretched—seconds? Minutes?—his mind hazy with the building ache, the wet sounds of his fingering filling the room alongside the others' low chuckles.

Caleb returned, a small, unmarked black box tucked under one arm. He kicked the door shut with his heel and dropped to a crouch in front of Ethan, setting the box down on the carpet with a soft thud.

"Pull your fingers out," Caleb ordered. "You're gonna need both hands for this."

Ethan obeyed, his hole clenching emptily as he withdrew, a string of lube connecting his fingers to his rim for a humiliating second before snapping. He sat up on his elbows, watching as Caleb flipped open the box.

Inside: a collection of dildos, smooth silicone in varying shades of flesh and black, lined up by size in molded foam. The smallest was slim, maybe four inches long and an inch thick—beginner-friendly. They escalated from there: medium, girthy, veined, up to the largest—a monster at least ten inches, ridged and flared at the base, thick as a wrist.

Caleb pulled them out one by one, standing them upright on the floor in a neat line in front of Ethan, their suction-cup bases sticking firmly to the carpet. The row formed a progression of intimidation, from tame to terrifying.

The room erupted in laughter—Mason clapping his hands once, Tyler whistling low.

"Start with the smallest," Caleb said, leaning back on his heels, arms crossed. "Ride them. One by one. Work your way up. Make it a good show—we want to hear you moan for each one."

Ethan's eyes widened, flicking from the toys to the boys' faces. His cock, still rock hard and dripping, gave an interested twitch despite the fear knotting his stomach. "I... I've never—"

"First time for everything," Caleb cut him off, smirking. "Lube ‘em up. Get on your knees and bounce like the whore you are."

Diego adjusted his phone for a better angle. Mason and Tyler shifted, getting comfortable, eyes glued to the lineup.

Ethan swallowed hard. He grabbed the lube bottle again, squirting a generous amount onto the smallest dildo. His hands shook as he smeared it along the length, the silicone warming under his touch. He positioned himself over it—knees spread wide, ass hovering—lowering slowly until the tip pressed against his slick hole.

He sank down.

The stretch was minimal, easier than his fingers, but the fullness hit differently—solid, unyielding. He bottomed out with a soft gasp, hips settling against the base. It felt good—too good—filling him just enough to tease that spot inside.

"Move," Tyler urged, grinning.

Ethan lifted, then dropped back down, starting a slow rhythm. Up and down, his cock bobbing with each bounce, pre-cum flinging onto the carpet. A moan slipped out on the third thrust, low and needy.

"Fuck yeah," Mason muttered. "Look at him ride that baby one like it's his boyfriend."

Ethan's pace quickened, the toy gliding easily now, his hole relaxing around it. Pleasure built fast, his breaths turning ragged. But before he could chase it further, Caleb snapped his fingers.

"Next one. Don't cum yet."

Ethan lifted off with a wet pop, cheeks burning as he moved to the second—thicker, longer. More lube. He impaled himself again, the added girth stretching him wider, making him hiss at first, then groan as it settled deep.

He rode harder now, ass slapping against the base, the boys' laughter blending with his moans. Each toy after ramped it up—the third veined one dragging deliciously inside him, the fourth forcing him to go slower to adjust, sweat beading on his skin.

By the fifth—eight inches, ridged—he was a mess: hole gaping slightly between rides, cock leaking profusely, body trembling. He bounced with abandon, chasing the edge, forgetting the audience for a moment in the haze of sensation.

The largest loomed last. Ethan eyed it warily, but his body—betraying him again—ached for it.

The boys leaned in, watching every inch disappear into him, their breaths heavier now.