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The Anatomy Lesson

Howard normally dreaded the part of the day he'd have to spend in Mr. Kent's class. As the school's "physical education" teacher, time with Mr. Kent usually meant one thing: "gym class."

Fat and effeminate, Howard would naturally be the target of bullying from other the other boys his age — even at 18 years old, many of them still acted like children, after all. Perhaps that's something he could have dealt with. But the relentless taunting he received from Mr. Kent was on a different level.

It seemed every day Mr. Kent would single out Howard, either for his more-than-average weight, his less-than-masculine mannerisms, or a combination of the two.

Today, however, Howard was feeling very different about having Mr. Kent for second period. It wasn't just that this was a "classroom day" -- one of the rare times the meathead Mr. Kent had to pretend to be able to teach "health studies." Rather, it was that Howard had a feeling he'd finally figured out how to test the project he'd been working on for psych class.

Howard made sure to be the first one in the classroom that day, scoping out the best place to sit. Where his normal tactic was sitting in the back to try to avoid Mr. Kent's notice as much as possible, today he knew he'd want to be near the centre of the action.

The classroom gradually filled up, with every student eventually finding a seat. A couple seemed surprised to see Howard sitting right in the middle of the second row, but no one was fazed beyond that. Instead, most students seemed more interested in the empty space at the front of the room, with Mr. Kent normally being there well before the class began.

As the minutes ticked by, Howard began to worry that maybe he would not be getting what he had hoped for. He knew Mr. Kent had seen the hypnosis videos -- his IP address was all over the site he'd anonymously sent to the buff blockhead last night -- but perhaps the effect had not been what Howard had expected...? Mind control was tricking business, after all. Maybe Mr. Kent was still snoozing away in the "deep sleep" of a trance he must have entered into...

The high school senior let out a sigh of relief when the physical education teacher walked into the classroom, seeming like he was in a bit of a daze.

"Sorry I'm late," Mr. Kent said as the room of teenage boys quieted down and he took his place front and centre of the classroom. "As you all know," he began, mostly sounding and acting like he normally did (a certain vacancy in his eyes only visible to someone who knew to look for it). "We're supposed to have our human anatomy lesson with a model to demonstrate today."

This was, of course, completely untrue. The anatomy lesson, in reality, tended to consist of little more than a series of slides and some worksheets to fill in. But Mr. Kent spoke with such certainty, everyone in the class just accepted that this must have been something they'd already been told and which they'd simply forgotten about.

"Unfortunately, I was just informed our model has the flu," Mr. Kent said matter-of-factly. "But, thankfully, Principal Shaw has authorized an alternative."

Without missing a beat, Mr. Kent peeled off his shirt and casually threw it aside, revealing an impressive physique. With his clothes on, it was clear that Mr. Kent was a muscular man, but the details were always left to the imagination. Now, with bulging biceps, plump pectorals, and rippling abs on full display, it was apparent that whatever this man lacked between his ears was more than made up for with the body he possessed.

Acting as though his behaviour was not out of the ordinary at all, the physical education teacher undid his pants as he continued to speak normally. "Since I'll be the model today," he said plainly as he began pulling down his waistband and fully exposing himself to his class, "I'll need someone to walk us through the lesson plan."

Casually, he stepped out of his trousers and adjusted his ample package like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. "Howard, since you're the only honours student in the class, I'd like you to do that, please."

"Sure thing, Mr. Kent," Howard said, grinning widely as he got to his feet and made his way to the front of the class.

This bastard had spent years making fun of Howard's body. If it wasn't his rolls of fat, it was his limp wrists. If it wasn't how winded he got, it was his lisp when he spoke. In other words, he'd made Howard a laughing stock because of the body he moved around the world in.

Turnabout was fair play, right?

So far, no one in the class was objecting, so Howard figured he'd start out slow and gradually ramp things up. He didn't want to spook anyone and end things before they even got started.

A few muscle groups explained, a few poses from his puppet -- and Mr. Kent would gradually get an erection all the while. If the exhibitionist display on its own wasn't enough to have the class thinking Mr. Kent was a bit of a pervert, the pre-cum that would soon be oozing out of his rock-hard and throbbing cock any time Howard touched him during the lesson would send that message much more clearly. Eventually, the bare-ass beefcake would be blissfully blowing his load from his totally-untouched cock when the hands-on portion for the "buttocks and anal region" began.

Still, they were not there yet. Before any of that could get underway, Howard had a very important instruction for the class.

"No notes today, guys," he said cheerfully, looking around the room before returning his gaze to his totally-exposed tormentor standing next to him without a clue about what was really going on. "I'll need your full attention on Mr. Kent, so feel free to pull out your phones and record if you think you'll want to refer back to this later."

Based on the hungry look a few guys in the room had on their faces, Howard knew many of them would be "referring back" to this often. Still others, he was sure, would waste no time spreading the footage around, ensuring everyone got to enjoy Mr. Kent's anatomy as much as they did.

Howard was looking forward to Mr. Kent himself seeing the footage tomorrow and realizing that stripping, posing, and spewing buckets of cum in front of his students was not some bizarre nightmare he'd had the night before. Instead, it was just the first of many new lessons he'd be learning thanks to one student he'd made such an impression on...

The ad Daniel saw didn’t exactly describe his ideal job: “WORKSHOP MODEL NEEDED ASAP - must be comfortable with nudity and adult content.”

Daniel was not particularly "comfortable with nudity" and, being a Christian father of three, "adult content" also wasn't something he usually condoned of. Still, money was tight and the pay they were offering for this position was incredible -- he even wondered if he could squeeze a few more dollars out of them since a "workshop model" was apparently needed so urgently.

When he called the man named "Alan" listed in the ad, a young-sounding guy picked up on the first ring. Saying he was interested in the "workshop model" position they had advertised -- if they could sweeten the deal with a couple extra hundred thrown on top -- the person on the other end didn't hesitate: "Yes, absolutely, I can make that work. The position's yours if you can be here in 15 minutes."

Daniel wasted no time going to the address he was provided with. To his surprise, the building had a sign saying "Learning Annex" out front -- and the specific suite to which he'd been directed seemed to have an art class in session.

Peaking in the barely-cracked-open door, Daniel saw a group of people painting at their easels in a circle, all of whom seemed to be paying attention to a flabby, old naked man standing on the platform at the centre. From this alone, he figured this must be the position for which he was being hired -- and, while he didn't love the idea of being totally exposed in such a public way, he did feel a bit of thrill at the idea of showing off his athletic physique and meaty package to a crowd of mostly young women. 

He was faithful to his wife, that was for sure. But who didn't like being "noticed" by members of the opposite sex? No doubt these ladies would much prefer to be studying a fine specimen of middle-aged manhood like Daniel over the dumpy-looking geriatric currently in their gazes -- no wonder they were willing to pay so much for another model to take his place ASAP!

"Are you Daniel?" a 20-something young guy in a button-up shirt (presumably the "Alan" he'd spoken to on the phone) asked anxiously as he came to the DILF spying on the class in session.

"Uh, yeah, I'm here for the, uh, modelling," he replied, having decided he would definitely take the job if it meant getting some appreciative attention from some very good-looking ladies in there.

"Oh, thank God," the slender young man said with a sigh as he looked Daniel up and down. "I thought we'd have to cancel tonight -- but you look like you'll be perfect for this!"

Daniel didn't love hearing that from another man -- especially one who seemed like he was probably a flaming homo -- but he was, at least, pleased to know he would be getting the payout and the thrill he'd started to hope this "workshop model" position would give him.

"We don't have much time," Alan continued, setting down a large sack next to him and starting to pull things out. "Here's a robe and a key to employee bathroom. Just leave all your things there and bring the key back to me," he said quickly, shoving the terrycloth garment into Daniel's arms.

Before DILFy Daniel had a chance to ask a question, Alan pointed down the hallway (presumably towards the employee bathroom) and added, "We'll go over the paperwork and any questions you have if there's still time when you get back."

Accepting that time was of the essence, Daniel did as he was bid and made his way to where he'd be sent. He made quick work of peeling off his clothes and setting them in a neat pile on the counter before donning the robe he'd been given. 

Going back out to find Alan again, Daniel saw the door to the suite was now open. He tentatively stepped inside to find the platform now empty and the students casually talking to each other.

"Oh, perfect," Alan said, thrusting a clipboard into Daniel's hands. "Just fill this out and we can get set up."

Noticing an attractive, young brunette sizing him up, Daniel barely looked at the forms he'd just been handed. Aside from making sure he spelled his name correctly and signed in the right places, he didn't bother to read most of it, just circling "N/A" wherever he could to speed up the process and quicken how soon he could show the hot young things in this room why they should be calling him "Daddy."

Absentmindedly passing the clipboard back to Alan, the younger man said, "Okay, I'll just look over your limits and everything if you want to go get comfortable on the platform."

If Daniel had been paying attention to something other than the fine pieces of ass in the room, he probably would have questioned that word Alan had just used: "limits." He probably would have realized that that form was asking about some very important things -- and that circling "N/A" was the worst thing he could have possibly done.

But Daniel was caught up in the moment, mounting the platform and -- with a deep breath to steady his resolve -- throwing off his robe to expose himself fully to everyone present.

The young ladies he'd been eying definitely all responded positively, eyeing Daniel's well-toned DILF bod hungrily. 

But, just when Daniel had convinced himself that this was something he was going to enjoy, Alan said something that surprised him: "Okay, folks, you'll have to clear out of here now so we can get set up."

The on-display Daniel gave Alan a quizzical look as everyone around him started to pack up their stuff. 

Maybe he would be posing for another group of art students? That had to be it. He just hoped that the next bunch would have as many -- if not more -- fine-looking young ladies in the mix.

"Let's get you in position," Alan said, climbing the platform and motioning for Daniel to put his legs on either side of the stool there.

Just as the last of the art students left the room, Alan began to pull a new item out of the bag he had with him. Daniel's eyes bulged when the young man produced what looked like shackles and started to attach them to the naked DILF's left ankle.

"Whoa, uh, is that... is that really necessary?" Daniel asked, a nervous laugh trying to cover how very anxious he felt in that moment.

"We need to make sure you stay in place through everything," Alan said casually, not looking away from what he was doing as he locked a second shackle onto Daniel's other ankle. "And the workshop participants go wild for this aesthetic," he continued, standing up to attach a connected set of shackles to Daniel's arms behind his back.

While feeling very apprehensive -- and suddenly quite aware of how very vulnerable he was (totally bare-ass, alone in a room with a fully-dressed stranger who'd just bound him in place) -- Daniel was willing to accept that Alan's explanation made a certain kind of sense. He would need to stay in place for the students to draw him, sure. And, all right, the shackles seemed a bit excessive, but in if they really made "the workshop participants go wild," maybe he could put up with the cold metal bondage for a few minutes...

Alan went back to rummaging through his bag, speaking absentmindedly to Daniel as he did so.

"You're really such a great find, you know?" he said casually. "Our normal model isn't anywhere near as fit as you are," he continued, seeming to find what he was looking for in his sack. "And all his limits mean that we can never get into the really extreme stuff most of our participants actually want to see."

There was that word again: "limits." This time, Daniel heard it. This time, it worried him. This time, he had to ask just what Alan meant by that.

Unfortunately for Daniel, he'd opened his mouth to speak in the same moment Alan was placing the item he'd just pulled out where it needed to go: a ball-gag right in the middle of the naked-and-bound DILF's mouth which he swiftly tightened in place.

In another moment of exceptionally bad timing, Daniel began his futile grunts of alarm and struggling against his bonds just as the first workshop participant entered the room. In Alan's mind, Daniel was just doing this for "added effect" -- acting the part of the "terrified victim" or playing up the image of a "reluctant submissive" for his audience.

"Is this the gay BDSM workshop?" the twinky newcomer asked, almost licking his lips as he sized up the well-muscled model on whom everything would be demonstrated very soon.

"Yep, you're in the right place!" Alan said causally, unloading more things from his bag and setting them up as more men filed into the room and found seats for themselves. Clearly, everyone had just been waiting for the cue to enter and, hearing Alan's words, were now eagerly filling the room.

Daniel continued to struggle helplessly and grunt in distress, trying to beg anyone to let him out of here. Being served up like a piece of meat to a bunch of fags was a nightmare -- one which was going to get much worse very soon.

"Can we record this?" a heavy-set guy sitting near Daniel asked, already holding up his phone to capture everything.

"Great question!" Alan said, using this as his cue to get started. "Hi, everyone, welcome!" he continued. "You'll be pleased to know that our model tonight has waived any rights to his image, so you can record and post away!"

Daniel went white as a sheet.

Fuck. Fuck! Fuck!!!

He should have read those forms more closely. Whatever happened now -- however invasive and nightmarish it ended up being -- would not just be limited to this moment and this room.

Visions of his totally-naked, shackled body (displayed on a stage in the centre of a group of otherwise casually-dressed gay men) being posted all over the internet flooded his mind. He would never be able to live this down. Everyone -- his friends, his family, his wife -- would see him getting reduced to nothing more than a pain-slut himbo by a scawny-looking fag who was young enough to be his son.

Yet, quickly stealing his focus from that train of thought was the next bombshell Alan dropped: "In some more good news, Daniel here has identified himself as a truly limitless submissive."

There were some sounds of surprise and approval from the audience, this crowd clearly curious to find out just what that meant.

"As you can see," Alan said, running his hand down Daniel's toned torso and then roughly grabbing hold of his his cock and balls. "Our model is very well-endowed."

The hold Alan had on Daniel's balls caused the bound DILF to bite down hard on the ball-gag in his mouth. It wasn't a particularly firm hold, but one which had been taken careless enough to cause an immediate reaction. Daniel's dick and balls were both extremely sensitive -- such that he always told the women he was with that they absolutely needed to be "handled with care."

"So, we'll spend our first hour on CBT," Alan said, releasing Daniel's manhood so that he could retrieve something he'd previously set on the side of the platform.

CBT? Where had Daniel heard that before? It sounded familiar, something he'd heard in a porn, he was sure...

Seeing Alan lift up a croquet mallet, it suddenly -- and horrifyingly -- came to him: "CBT" was "Cock and Ball Torture."

Daniel redoubled his pathetic attempts to beg for help and escape his shackles as Alan sauntered back up in front of him. "Since we had to stop at Level-3 CBT with our model last week, we'll pick up there today."

He mimed swinging the mallet like a golf club, lining it up directly with Daniel's heavy-set, defenceless balls.

"Once we get to Level 5, Daniel's package will be pretty much pulverized, providing an opportunity to move into two additional lessons," Alan said matter-of-factly, still miming the violent attack that was going to take place on Daniel's super-sensitive, totally defenceless genitals any moment now. "We'll go over how to provide effective First Aid when dishing out the most extreme forms of CBT," he continued. "And we'll also cover how this kind of CBT can be a great way to play with your sub's mind and convince him to beg you to keep his naughty bits 'safely' in chastity."

Winding up to finally connect the mallet directly with Daniel's balls any second now, Alan said simply, "So, folks, let's get this started..."

Bring Your Kid to Work Day

Not only was Timmy’s image of his father totally destroyed in the moment the announcer had welcomed "Dirk the DILF" to the stage, but something else dawned on him in the same instant: if word got out among his classmates of what his dad did for work, he knew that the “Tough Guy Tim” image he’d worked so hard to cultivate would be shattered.

Almost as though someone had heard that thought passing through Timmy’s head, it only took a second for a familiar voice to let him know how quickly that his new fear of irreparable reputational damage could become a reality: “Tim? That you?”

Timmy froze, hoping that, if he didn't turn around, then he could just slip out the back before whoever thought they recognized him could confirm it.

"Tim, hey! It's me, Freddy," the familiar voice continued, reaching out and grabbing hold of Timmy's shoulder to make sure he couldn't ignore him anymore.

Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Of course it had to be "Freddy the Fairy" who spotted him here. Given how frequently Timmy had bullied this limp-wristed faggot, he had a strong suspicion that Freddy wouldn't hesitate to spread some reputation-destroying information among everyone at their high school.

"Uh, hey, Freddy..." Timmy said hesitantly, still not looking his classmate in the face as he tried to think of a way to explain his presence here without letting it slip that his own father was the one who'd just been shaking his ass in a skimpy little g-string on stage.

"So, I guess we have some common interests," Freddy said, clearly thinking that Timmy had come here to enjoy the show. That would explain why Freddy seemed pleased to see someone he normally recoiled in fear from: he evidently thought that he'd just discovered that Timmy was secretly as gay as he was.

While Timmy could have -- and probably should have -- used that as a cover story, he didn't think through his instinctive response: "Oh, fuck off! I'm not a fruitcake like you are you little --"

Timmy was cut off by another familiar voice coming from behind him. While not speaking to him this time, just hearing what it said was enough to knock him off-kilter.

"Hey there, hot stuff," his dad said, apparently speaking to Freddy. Noticing Timmy standing next to his #1 fan, Dirk added, "Oh, great, I see you've already met my son."

Timmy went bright red, a reaction caused in equal parts by humiliation and by rage.

"What the fuck, Dad?!" Timmy spat. "What is all this?!" he continued, gesturing at the sleazy male strip club around him. "And why the fuck are you calling Freddy the Fairy 'hot stuff'?!"

Dirk's face made an expression Timmy was familiar with: it was the one he'd worn when he'd told Timmy he and his mother were getting a divorce, when he'd told Timmy they couldn't take a summer vacation, and when he'd told Timmy he couldn't afford to send him to college next year. Normally, it was a gentle, fatherly look that helped to put his son at ease -- although, given that his dad was still wearing a g-strip with dollar bills sticking out of it, it was hard for Timmy to feel "reassured" by someone who looked like a cheap man-whore.

"Oh, wow, Timmy... I'm sorry," he started, putting a hand on his son's shoulder. "It's just, well... I thought you knew this is what I did for work."

Timmy's mind played back all the things his dad had said and done since getting a "job at the club" on the outskirts of town. The clues were all there, he realized now -- he'd just chosen to ignore the obvious because of what it would mean.

"And, well, I don't want to drop too many bombshells on you at once, but..." Dirk looked to Freddy and then back to his son. "Well... Freddy here is my boyfriend, son."

Timmy's jaw dropped. This was too much. It was bad enough to think that his dad would let all of those men grab and grope at his body for money, but this?! He'd just revealed to his son that he was DATING the weak twerp Timmy had terrorized for years.

"Listen, I'll give you some time to process that," Dirk said, looking to see where his fellow stripper was in his own routine on stage. "I gotta get back up there in a minute, so we can talk afterwards."

Stepping over to Freddy, Dirk continued (now in a sultry, seductive tone), "And I'll see you afterwards too."

It would have been hard for Timmy to see his father kissing another man -- but what actually happened was even worse than that. Freddy took Dirk's head in one hand and pressed the DILF's mouth forcefully into his own, his tongue obviously invading the older man's orifice as soon as they connected. Dirk eagerly allowed it happen, obviously enjoying submitting to whatever Freddy wanted to do to him. As though that weren't enough, Freddy's other hand reached around and gropingly manhandled Dirk's bare butt all the while.

The body language spoke volumes: twinky little Freddy was "the man" here, while Timmy's dad was nothing more than a fucktoy himbo.

Freddy gave Dirk's ass a firm slap as the older man turned to start walking away, his eyes then glued to those two beefy globes until he turned the corner to go backstage.

"So, uh, 'Timmy'," Freddy said, dropping the "Tim" moniker that his bully had used to make himself seem more manly than his given name of "Timmy" suggested. "I have a feeling things are gonna be different from now on."

Timmy felt sick. He'd just learned that the faggy kid he'd been pummelling with his fists was now going to be pummelling his own butt-slut father with his twink cock from here on out. How was he supposed to handle any of this?

"But, uh, hey, how about this," Freddy said, putting a sympathetic hand on Timmy's shoulder in an imitation of the fatherly gesture his dad had used on him only a moment ago. "I've been getting pretty sick of Dirk telling me we have to 'keep it down' when I'm plowing into his muscle-cunt on the other side of your bedroom wall. So, I'll keep quiet about all of this," he said, gesturing around him, "if you let me and your dad make all the noise we want at your place, hmm?"

As Dirk the DILF returned to the stage, Timmy swallowed hard and nodded in agreement to the conditions Freddy had just set. His reputation was all he had and he'd do anything to preserve it.

"Sure, Freddy," Timmy said sullenly to the dom top twink who'd be slam-fucking his own father with total abandon later that night. "Whatever you say..."