Ending Two

“You sure you good, bro?” questioned Alex once more, leaning on Lou’s car trunk.

He pinched at his angled chin, never taking his eyes off the jock. Whom, in that moment, struggled to find the keys to open the driver’s door.

“I’m good. Seriously, I’m good,” he grunted, moseying around the palpable alongside growing frustration he felt.

He did not care that he lost. He expected as much before he returned home. What discommoded him was the likelihood he came second-best to Tristian Conner. He allowed his crush since high school to fall into the hands of a man he bullied. He could not compete with the better body, the amassed wealth, and...the...the very possible bigger dick. Of course, Debbie would lust after him. Lou tugged at his clothes; his posture even more rigid, which hindered his ability to find his keys. Regardless, when Alex grabbed him after a few moments, Lou noted the crazed look on his friend’s face.

“W-Wh--”

“Bro! Behind you!”

At once, Lou’s heart raced, his eyes meeting the caliginous oculi of a rabbit mask worn on a rectangular shaped humanoid. They, along with a dozen other animal-masked bipeds, collected around a gawky, average height yet long-legged figure wearing a wolf mask. The wolf held a small metallic instrument in their right hand. Lou yelled, bolting away from his car.

“Fuck the keys, Alex! Run!!!”

The masked figures followed, practised at keeping pace with the men. In minutes, two overweight figures grabbed Alex’s piqué shirt, creating a tear in the fabric when he nosedived into the ground. Though quick to land two leaden punches onto their bodies, he froze when one figure presented a black pistol, directing the instrument to his forehead. Alex raised both hands, his submission taken by the other character who pulled him towards a grey street steel light pole.

Lou cried aloud, his momentary hesitation at the wolf’s grist to the mill. They kicked the jock’s calves, bringing him to the dusty ground before beckoning two larger figures to pull him by his chinos. Lou whimpered, to their subdued amusement, the ground’s loose aggregations rasping his broad back and taut behind. Once by the light fixture, they threw the young man onto the motionless Alex, whose hands remained raised, his rear against the pole while sitting on the floor.

“D-D-Don’t kill us, man! P-p-please don’t kill us!” exclaimed Alex, his dark jeans growing darker at the crotch.

The larger pig masked figure laughed, pointing at Alex’s groin.

“Need pull ups, Rod?”

The other figures expressed amusement, chills discharging along both Alex’s and Lou’s nerves.

“What the fuck you want?!” Lou spat.

Then and there, pain shot against his face, the wolf’s gun striking his cheeks.

“Still so pompous, even in a do-or-die. Are you really that thick-headed?”

Lou quivered, unprepared for the harsh, simulated voice arising out of the figure. A voice modulator.

“Of course you are! Both you and pissy Rod here were always dumb muscle,” they paced back and forth, “is that why you both felt the need to terrorise us during school?”

“S-s-school?” stuttered Alex, tears streaming down his clamming pale cheeks.

The wolf laugh, their robotic resound pulsating bilious pains in the men’s abdomens.

“Yes, school. High school,” they kicked a bottle at their foot, striking Lou in the arm, “For you two, being asses was so inconsequential. Nostalgic. But for us, it was pure hell.”

They paused, their black orb’s gaze piercing Lou’s eyes.

“Therapy. Shit lives. Never ending anxiety. All to the detriment of living off our vulnerabilities! How does it feel now?! Huh?!”

Neither man answered. Alex sobbed quietly, generating chuckles from the other masked characters. The wolf gripped their fist, their stares never leaving Lou.

“Not even an ‘I’m sorry.’ Such good-for-nothing scum. You don’t deserve those clothes on your backs,” the wolf paused; a few silent seconds passed before they nodded towards two larger masked figures, “strip them and tie them up.”

They pointed their pistol at both Alex and Lou, then signalled to the light fixture.

“Maybe they’ll learn a thing or two about being decent fucking people.”

Lou swallowed. Strip? Strip! He couldn’t be stripped. Not before everyone here. Not before his best bro. The jock jumped, readied to escape, but the large masked figure knocked him off his feet. He thwacked against the pole behind him, his vision in a brief daze. The wolf held their gun towards Lou.

“Try that again and you’ll be bowled over. Permanently.”

Each figure grabbed Alex and Lou, standing them upright before ripping off their clothing. They hollered, enduring the absolute destruction of their expensive attires over the handful of minutes glided past. The wolf laughed, watching as they tied the underwear cladded bros against the pole, their burly arms flexed upwards and fixed via several knots by Alex’s soiled pants. The grimaces on their faces brought about mechanical entertainment that furthered intimidated them.

“Tighty whities, huh?” mocked a thin framed figure wearing a bird mask, pointing to both men.

“Of course, they’re packing...”

Lou shuddered, catching sight of the bulge in Alex’s strained and stained, low-rise white briefs. He’d known for years between his best friend’s thighs stocked the largest set of genitals he had ever seen. The large masked figure pulled down Alex’s underwear, unfurling his swinging flaccid beast. A few gasps and grunts echoed at the sight, though the figure waved their hands before their face.

“You’re rank,” they spoke, pulling out the gun and pointing it towards the giant member.

“No! Please! I beg of you! I’m sorry! Please!!!”

The figure chuckled, taking their position a few steps in front of the young man before directing their pistol at the crotch. Lou jumped, cool air flitting against his bare ass, his own tight, white briefs mingled at his feet. More gasps and grunts hawked aloud, frozen at the sight of Lou’s own monster.

“Shit...Smallwood’s really hung like a horse.”

“Nah...Smallwood is a horse.”

Not unlike Alex, the colossal figure took their position before directing their gun at Lou’s crotch.

“P-please don’t,” choked Lou, joining his weeping friend, “I-I-I’m sorry! Please don’t shoot! Please!”

The wolf walked towards them and crouched at their feet. They collected their underwear, stuffing Alex’s soiled briefs in Lou’s mouth and vice versa for his companion.

“Say goodbye to your dicks, men.”

Alex and Lou thrusted against their restraints; their shouts muffled by the other’s undergarments. Their assailants levelled their guns.

“One!”

argharghargh.

“Two!”

ArghArghArgh.

“Three!”

ARGHARGHARGH!

The masked audience proclaimed their amusement, clapping and guffawing as frothy fluid expelled from the pointed pistols, coating the men’s groins in ice cold soap water. Alex moaned aloud, his breathing shallow and heavy from the cruel trick. He tussled once more, knocking Lou at his side. The ****, coupled with the fluid, loosened the jock’s prosthetic, which wavered a few times before dislodging. It took flight ahead of vaulting across the pavement.

Lou’s chest caved, his resolution towards escape melting away. But it stranded a nagging barrenness. The jock did not gamble looking down as the before mentioned cool breeze whisking his buttocks had now frosted at his crotch. The audience’s collective delight waned. Each of the pseudo-faces gave Lou’s groin the once or twice over, telling him all he needed to know. Mechanical half-suppressed sputters escaped the wolf, who pointed their long fingers at Lou’s crotch. The audience joined in one by one, remarking along.

“His dick was fake?!”

“Say goodbye to your dicks in the truest sense...”

“No way that’s real. Smaller than a micro.”

“So, Smallwood’s hung like a mouse then. Who would’ve thought?”

“Please, Smallwood is a mouse.”

“Hung like what! There’s nothing there but balls! Hung like a defective sex doll, maybe.”

Computerised laughter echoed through the parking lot, causing the jock’s entire body to flush. He looked downward, whimpering soon after sighting only his thick, messy blonde bush and swinging sac. His penis so shrivelled. So shrunken, it made no impression at all. Even Alex, askance his vacant look, had a broad smirk, though when Lou turned in his direction, he avoided him on the spot.

“What irony,” uttered the wolf, calming down from their prattled amusement, “Baby dick and pissy pants. An infantile match.”

Applause rumbled out from the gymnasium, causing the wolf to signal towards the masked group. As they gathered to leave, they looked at Alex.

“Give them a big show,” their attention turned to Lou, “or in your case, a comedic performance.”

They ran away, the gagged yells and truculent struggle worsened at the sight of vacating guests.

“What’s this--OH MY GOD!”

A young woman’s mouth fell open as she chucked Lou’s 8-inch prosthetic without forethought. The plastic cock swivelled in the air, hitting one of the parked vehicles by the bound men. In seconds, the alarms of all the cars hereabouts them trumpeted loud, harsh beeps and buzzes, gathering the attendants’ attention to the denuded Alex Rod and Lou Smallwood.

“Jesus Christ! They’re naked!”

“Oh my! Someone! Help them!”

“Wow! Is that Alex and Lou? Serves them right.”

As the panicked older men and women rushed over to assist, their former schoolmates found the situation hilarious, some laughing while others taking photos.

“Who made the Rod and Smallwood catch of the day?!”

“Alex! Dude?! Why’re you so red?!”

“They were bawling their eyes out!”

“Lou! Where’s his dick?!”

“Damn, it’s like night and day down there!”

“I think it’s on the car!”

An older woman collected the prosthetic, doing her best to “reattach” it to Lou’s groin. Alex choked on his gag; his mirth superseding his own embarrassment. Bolstered by the budding of glans from Lou’s abounding pubes.

“I think it should work now. Poor lad’s got a hard on,” said an older gentleman, trying to untie the knots.

Lou cringed, his breathing becoming heavier at not just the humiliation, but his incipient yet rapidly growing arousal.

Stop! Stop touching my dick! he cried, though with the gag, blaring alarms, and pervading amusement by his mounting audience, it was pointless.

Lou shook his head in defeat.

This couldn’t get any worse.

“Oh my god! Alex! Smallwood!”

Lou shot up. There, he exchanged glances with a shocked Debbie and tittering Tristian, whose arms encircled her waist. His chest tightened, his rapid pulse and hastened breathing quaking his insides. Were they now a thing? Is she comparing Tristian to him? Can she see his...small dick? Tiny dick? Micro dick? His mind raced. His entire body tensed, his hands, feet and ass writhing at the thought, despite a sudden pleasure firing through him.

Not before too long, Debbie’s shock abided by Tristian’s enjoyment, both adults laughing as they gestured an inch with their fingers and thumbs. Lou wailed, floundering at the spot against the efforts of the men to stabilise him.

No!

They know!

Everyone knows!

His entire town knows he had...had...had...NGHNUGH.

“MY EYES!!!” cried the older woman, who fell backwards. The lengthy, thick phallus clenched in hand.

Viscous, milky fluid ejected from the cooing Lou, slathering the woman’s face and chest. The sight invoked more cachinnations from the other men and women trying to help, though their attention soon turned to assisting the **** woman. Lou looked away, his vision wavering and whirling before he plummeted into oblivion.

It could always get worse.

End