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James once agreed to act as a human beverage dispenser and expected another tube up his bum, **** deep into him. He waited for Mr Gravel to insert it, maybe he was lubricating it so it wasn't ready yet. At one point he felt a pressure, that of the butt plug with the tap, but he stopped there. He turned his head seeing that the tube was tucked into a barrel on which he would sit. It would not be his stomach that would be the container but he would just be holding the tap in a very humiliating naked position straddling a barrel with his legs over the edge of it and thus obscenely wide open.

The first customer approached, a middle-aged man with a leer that made James's stomach twist. He leaned over the bar, his hand sliding under the counter to grasp the plug's base.

The hand then turned the tap twice, giving James a feeling of intrusion, but he was comforted by the fact that his guts would not be used to pass the liquid from inside him to the glasses. James couldn't deny that he felt a strange pleasure. You can't even lie to yourself when your erect, wet penis is an indicator of what you're feeling.

Mr. Gravel watched with a smug smile. The room was a blur of faces, a sea of hungry eyes that seemed to devour him whole. He knew he had to perform, had to be the good boy that the town demanded.

With a deep breath, James began to serve the beverage with the plug inside him as a constant reminder of his new role. Each time a customer took one, he felt a strange mix of humiliation and... something else. Something that made his heart race and his cock throb, a sensation that grew stronger with every passing moment.

He didn't see them at first, his parents and uncles entering the bar. But as Mr. Gravel announced his presence to the crowd, the cheers grew louder, and James's heart sank into his stomach as he recognized the voices of his own family.

His heart skipped a beat as he recognized the silhouettes of his parents and uncles, their faces a mix of shock and something else... something he didn't dare to name.

James's cheeks burned hotter than the sun-baked rocks of the quarry as he bent over, his legs spread wide to offer the butt plug faucet. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but the reality of his situation was crashing down on him like a ton of bricks. He hadn't anticipated this, hadn't thought his family would ever witness his degradation. Yet here they were, his mother's proud gaze meeting his own, her lips curled into a knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine.

Her eyes traveled over his body, lingering on the plug that protruded from his ass. She didn't seem repulsed; rather, she looked... intrigued. James felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead.

"Well, well, well," Uncle Larry said, his voice a gruff rumble that seemed to shake the very foundations of the bar. "If it isn't my little nephew, serving up a special treat." He winked at James, his hand reaching out to give the plug a friendly squeeze. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through James's body that had his cock jerking to attention.

James's mother, Aunt Karen, and Uncle Larry stepped closer, their eyes glinting with a mix of shock and something else that James didn't dare to name. The room had gone quiet, the townsfolk watching the unfolding scene with a morbid curiosity. He could feel his body trembling as if the liquid was really inside him and not in the barrel he was riding.

"James," his mother said, her voice cool and collected. "What a... unique way to serve drinks." Her eyes were on the plug, the flask attached to it, and the way it made him feel... displayed. James's cheeks burned with a heat that had nothing to do with the warmth of the room.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as a desert. "It's... it's just part of the job," he managed to croak out, his voice a mere whisper.

Suddenly, Uncle Larry's hand was on the base of the plug, giving it a firm squeeze. James couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped his lips, his eyes widening with shock. The pressure inside him grew, the lemonade jostling in the glass.

"A toast!" Uncle Larry called out, his voice booming through the bar. "To hard work and... innovation!" The townsfolk cheered, raising their own drinks in a salute as James's face flushed a deep crimson. Uncle Larry admitted that he expected him to be the one to hold the drinks, in his tummy, he added in the tone one uses with a child. Mr Gravel smiled and said that James also thought he was going to get a lemonade enema, which he would then literally distil from his ass. Uncle Larry tasted the drink and said it tasted a little like a boy's fresh ass. A great taste he concluded. Mr Gravel explained that James' bottom had been wiped with an enema before he was served the drinks and that there was no contact between the hose and his body. Gravel pointed to the buttplug connection and said that that was the only connection and that with each turn of the tap valve for James it was as if the inside of his anus was acting as a vibrator.

The sound of the plug being turned brought James back to the present.

"To James," she said his mother, her voice clear and steady. "Our little... golden boy." She raised the shot glass to her lips, her eyes never leaving James's as she swallowed the contents. The room was silent, the only sound the clinking of the drops as they fell from James's ass.

Mr. Gravel took the empty glass from Rachel, his eyes gleaming with a newfound respect. "Indeed," he said, his voice a low rumble. We're quite fortunate to have such a... dedicated employee."

The distribution of the lemonade continued, each customer eagerly awaiting their turn. James felt like a prized cow at a milk bar, his body on display for the town's amusement. With every drop that fell, he could feel his family's gaze on him, their reactions a tangible presence that seemed to seep into his very soul.

Finally, the barrell was empty, and Mr. Gravel announced with a flourish, "And that, my dear patrons, concludes our special service for the night!" The crowd applauded, the room alive with energy that made James's skin crawl. The plug was removed with a wet pop, the sudden absence leaving him feeling... ****.

He turned to face his family, his heart racing. His father's eyes were on his face, a look that James couldn't quite decipher. It wasn't anger or disgust, but something... softer, almost proud. "You did well, son," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Real... innovative."

James's mother stepped closer, her hand reaching out to cup his cheek. "You've always been such a hard worker," she said, her eyes shining with a mix of admiration and something else. "This is just... another way of showing it."

James felt a lump form in his throat. He didn't know what to say, what to do. He was torn between his need for their approval and the burning shame that consumed him. His father's hand clapped him on the back, the gesture surprisingly gentle. "We're proud of you, son," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "You've got a gift for... adapting."

The words hung in the air, a strange mix of comfort and horror. Proud? Gift? James felt like a circus freak, a sideshow for the town's amusement. Yet, as he looked into his father's eyes, he saw something that made his heart ache. It was a look he hadn't seen in a long time, a look that seemed to say, "You're my special boy."

The following day, James found himself standing naked in Mr. Gravel's office, the scent of leather and aftershave thick in the air. He was erect, the plug removed.His skin still tingled from the rough treatment of the previous night, but there was a sense of... relief. The worst was over, and now he had to face the week ahead.

"You've done well," Mr. Gravel said, his eyes raking over James's body with a cold, assessing gaze. "Your dedication to the job is commendable." He tapped his desk with a pen, the sound a sharp reminder of the power dynamics at play. "But we need to discuss your schedule, James. We can't have you wearing yourself out."

James nodded. The feel of the cool air against his bare skin was a stark contrast to the heated emotions roiling through him. "Yes, Mr. Gravel," he murmured, his voice a little too eager. "What do you have planned for me?"

Mr. Gravel leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving James's. "Your dedication is commendable, truly," he said, his tone a mix of admiration and something else. "But we mustn't let your... talents go to waste." He tapped his pen against the desk, the rhythm a slow, deliberate beat that seemed to echo through James's body. "Your new schedule will reflect that."

James swallowed hard, his heart racing as he listened to the man's words. He knew what was coming, had felt the excitement building inside him with every passing second.