Mel Takes My Manhood

"Yes, Daddy." My eyes were fixed on the floor in defeat. He guffawed at my utter subordination. My total lack of backbone. It felt like he was stamping all over whatever masculine dignity I once had.

"That's what I like to hear, kiddo." He patted my cheek condescendingly, then cupped my whole jaw in his large hand and laughed in my face. He squeezed my cheeks together, forcing my mouth open, and I heard a sickening rasping sound well up in the back of Mel's throat.

I watched as his cheeks convulse and he spat an enormous, thick green loogie right into my mouth. It was the size of an egg, and it instantly filled my whole mouth. I shuddered with revulsion, and he closed my lips, forcing me to keep it on my palate. He watched intently as I fought every instinct to try to spit it out, and instead forced myself to swallow it. The slick, slimy thing oozed down my esophagus. I cried a few more tears as it entered my belly, Mel watching on with manic delight.

"That's a good wimp." He patted my cheek again in mock praise.

Melvin grabbed my ear and twisted, roughly yanking my head down to his waist level so that my neck and shoulders were forced down awkwardly as he dragged me to his bedroom. I watched my bare feet stumble along behind Melvin, who was still in his full suit and brown florsheims. I gasped and sputtered as he pulled me along by my ear like a naughty boy. He released me, then placed a large towel down on his bed and beckoned me over.

"Lay your tummy down right here. That's a boy." He left me and went to the bathroom. I listened as he filled the bag from his bath tub for what felt like forever. I stared at the wall waiting like a like a little boy ordered to stand in the corner. Only I was lying on stomach, bare ass naked.

He came back in the room and I heard a metal clank as he hooked the the big red bag from one of the bed posts. He stood behind me and grabbed my ankles, spreading my legs open. I gasped as he jammed the mercifully lubricated nozzle into my hole, and pushed it in a few inches into my rectum.

I had played around with kinky stuff before but never done anything this crazy. It was all moving so fast, and I knew there was no way to stop the train I was on. No way Mel would let me put an end to his cruel games. And despite the impending sense of doom, I wanted to see where this strange old man would take me.

"OK here it comes, boy." I took a breathe. Almost instantly I felt one of the oddest sensations I'd ever experienced as the water began gushing inside of me. It was the indescribable reverse of the relief that one feels while evacuating their bowls - instead, my insides were being invaded by a rush of warm water, filled with a deluge. It was not immediately unpleasant, and I felt the growing pressure against my prostrate stiffen my little prick against the towel. Soon the sensation became more and more overwhelming.

I began sweating intensely. I panted like a dog as cramps began wracking my torso. As I felt my belly swell, a pain spread throughout, as my growing gut pushed down uncomfortably upon the bed. Melvin grabbed my shoulders and waist, and had me lift my stomach up so that I was on my hands and knees. This eased the pressure slightly, but now I could see my ridiculous image in the mirror on the dresser across from the bed. My whole body was glistening with perspiration and I was beet red.

"Oooh your belly's getting big, boy." He whistled as he rubbed his hand over my sweat-soaked, swollen stomach. This gut-wrenchingly obscene anal humiliation blurred my vision with tears, but I could see that he was right. My stomach had expanded and hung low below me.

"Almost done. Almost full. A full gallon for my boy." Melvin patted my bare backside as he fiddled with the bag. He then had me sit up so I was just on my knees, and ran his large, rough hands over my belly. I moaned as my body was wracked by cramps. The tube was removed from my rear-end and he yanked my hair, pulling my head back, forcing me to look into a full size mirror facing the bed. My stomach was immensely swollen, a great sweaty white ball gut.

"Don't you spill a drop now, Petey boy!" He warned, slapping my ass. I winced, clenching my cheeks, willing myself to keep it all in.

"Look at that... your belly's enormous!" The old man crowed incredulously and slapped my butt, shaking me.

"You've become a fat boy, Bobby!" He squeezed my full stomach roughly, pinching with his fingers as he roughly jiggled the sweat-soaked flesh.

"Why, you look like a pregnant sow." He kept feeling my belly up, his voice dripped with amused derision as our eyes met in the mirror. He brought his face close to mine and snorted loudly like a boar, making me flinch. He laughed at my wimpy reaction. He grabbed my ears and yelled.

"Soooeeeeeeey!!" He laughed wildly as I trembled from his abuse. He slapped my backside again

"You look just about ready to give birth, sweetheart." He slapped my distended belly and I yelped in pain. Next he pulled me head up by my hair, leaned in, and whispered conspirationally.

"Petey boy, do you happen to need to use the potty?"

"Yes, please Daddy!" I abjectly begged, beginning to step up from the bed before Mel firmly kept me planted in place.

"Hmmm, no not just yet. I think you just better hold that there for a bit longer." I struggled to stay up on all fours, my insides churning painfully. Mel hummed to himself, drawing out my ordeal.

"Petey boy, between the two of us, who would you say is the better man?"

"You Sir! You are! You're the better man, you're the better man. You're the only man! I'm just a boy." I quickly sputtered out.

"Oh I know it, boy. But I want to know that you know it."

"I know you're the better man. I know you're the better man, Sir!" He sat beside me on the bed where I was still on all fours, resting his heavy arm on the small of my back.

"Hmm... why don't you give me let's say 20 reasons why I'm a better man than you. Why I'm more of a man than you, boy. If you stop or if you stall, or say anything redundant than we're going to add another liter of water up your rear and give you an extra thirty minutes." He slapped my bottom for emphasis.

"You've... you've got a bigger cock than me. You're stronger than me! You're smarter than me! You're more experienced than me! You're a better lawyer than me! You've richer than me!" I watched myself in the mirror as I lavished him with praise, my guts wracked with painful cramps. I was dripping sweat and trembling from the intestinal agony. My mind raced for compliments- what did Mel want to hear?

"You're tougher than me. You've got bigger balls than me. You've braver than me. You're... you're better at fucking than me. You're more intimidating than me. You're more confident than me!"

"Keep it coming."

"You're better at sports than me. You're dick stays harder than me. You're a better man than me, please, please, please!

"Well that sure was nice of you to say, boy. And every word of it true." I collapsed, falling onto my chest face forward in the bed, hugging my cramping sides.

"Oh didn't you need to use the bathroom, Peter?" I stood up as quickly as I could, my head spinning. Mel took my shoulders.He helped me walk there, like I was drunk or injured, which is not far from how I felt.

He led me to the bathroom and sat me down on the toilet. He stood right outside the bathroom, and I reached for the door. Melvin slapped my hand.

"Nope, not a chance young man. Door stays open. There's no hiding anything from Daddy." And so I reached a new low that day, as a man, a man old enough to my father, watched from a few feet away as I expelled a gallon from my guts.

With each rude sound he cackled or cheered me on derisively. I moaned balefully as each painful discharge wracked my insides with cramps. I held my sides and bent into my knees- my fingers slipped off my sweat soaked waist, ankles. He hooted and laughed as I expelled the enema. I felt like I would die of shame, being observed in this state.

"That's it boy. All out! Get it all out." He encouraged me as I closed my eyes and tried to push all the water out.

He patted my head, ruffled my hair. Slapped my back or rubbed my shoulder like a coach. All while I was engaged in the most private of acts, and in agony. It felt so wrong him being a part of this, touching me and talking to me as I emptied my bowels. I wanted to push him out and close the door but I was far too weak. I just let him manhandle me until I was finally done, collapsed on top of the pot, panting.

"Great job champ. Now hit the shower." I pulled myself off of the toilet and hobbled to the shower, grateful for the chance to clean myself. I closed my eyes under the stream. I slowly turned so that the water would soak my traumatized back side.

Mid-way through my shower, Melvin, now shirtless, invaded the bathroom again. He had stripped down to his boxers, a big, wide-waisted old-fashioned pair, red and white stripes. They looked like a size 38 waist, so much bigger than any I could ever wear. He was getting items out of a medicine cabinet, and with his back to me I was stunned by how hairy he was.

His body was coated in wiry gray hair, even his shoulders and back were matted. He had a wide beer gut and manboobs, all covered in a thick pelt. While in the past I would have found his body off-putting, Mel had exerted so much power over me, had brought me so low in relation to him, that his hairiness and girth seemed impressively manly, potent. He had fucked with my head so deeply that I was in awe of him. He looked like king to me.

He entered the shower brandishing a disposable razor and shaving cream. Mel moved my body so I was out of the shower stream, cornering me against the wall. He set the razor down on the tub and menacingly shook the can of shaving cream, then sprayed a blast on my chest. It felt like he was vandalizing me with graffiti, an X across my entire torso. He then put down the shaving cream and began rubbing the shaving cream over my skin.

I felt like a weakling, letting him lather up my entire body - arms, legs, a generous heaping around my crotch and stomach, knowing that I was about to allow him to shave off my body hair. He took his time, humming to himself. He filled his hands with a heap of shaving cream and dug them into my armpits, He patted a large amount of shaving cream on both of my pecs, rubbed it in and gratuitously fondled my chest and nipples, then got to work with his razor. First my chest was shaved. In truth there was not that much hair for him to take a way, but he methodically stripped away what was there, scraping the light brown hair around my nipples and the cleft between my pectorals.

As he washed it away, I looked down at my newly nude breasts. I had started growing my chest hair at the tail of end high school. I remembered being proud of the first few sprouts I got, initially in the cleft between my pecs, and then spreading it out into a light "X." More than any other bit of body hair, that had made feel proud, like a man. I thought of how it felt being shirtless in public with hair on my chest, like I was declaring my maturity, my manhood. Now it was gone, and my chest was smooth and boyish again. I felt the loss it.

Next on the chopping block was the happy trail that ran down my belly. He shaved away the hair on my forearms, then had me lift my arms over my head and like an obedient little kid I let him shave my arm pits. He crowded into my space for this task, and my gaze was dominated by his hairy back and the thickets of fur that coated his shoulders up to the nape of his neck. The hirsute ape of a man was stripping me of all my body hair. He even shaved my legs!

Mel cackled constantly as he worked, sitting on the edge of the bathtub as he denuded my long, muscular legs of man hair. He seized my bare thigh and ran his fingers up and down my leg.

"Feel these nice smooth legs." The hairless skin was extremely sensitive, and I gasped as he fondled me, which sent him into another bout of cruel laughter.

Finally there was the modest bush above my dick. I "manscaped" so my balls were already shaved. He took my pecker head in between his thumb and fore finger and examined it.

"This little dinky should definitely not have any man hair on it. It should be just as smooth as a little boy's shmeckle, shouldn't it, Petey?" He looked at me for assent.

"Yes, Daddy." He then dabbed my pubes with scoops of shaving cream and methodically sheared them away. He shaved the underside of my balls, and then held me glans in his fingers to clear the hair at the base of my shaft. Last he took away the modest main of my pubic bush. I looked down in shock at a groin I hadn't recognize since prepubescence. The bare skin made my penis look even smaller, somehow.

"Ooh, almost forgot a spot." He turned me around in the shower, had me bend over and spread my cheeks and unceremoniously swiped away the hair between my crack with his razor. I gasped at the feeling of the metal in such a tender spot but entrusted myself to Mel and let him do it to me. He turned off the water and had me step out of the shower.

"Now look at that. As smooth as a baby's ass." Melvin's fat fingers ran over the slick skin of my hairless crotch. He fondled every part of me that he had shaved, grazing and and caressing my bare chest, digging into my hairless pits, feeling my shaven legs and arms, and casually cleft his index finger between my butt cheeks. The sensation of newly smooth skin, skin that had not been hairless since I was 12, felt so strange. I just stood there and let him feel me up. He moaned in approval as he squeezed and stroked my pink, shorn skin.

He sighed with satisfaction and smiled with cruel pride at his work, then vigorously dried me with a towel, like a father drying his young son after a bath. He even rubbed some kind of moisturizer all over my body. Mel led me to the mirror in his bedroom again, where I had watched myself take the enema. He beamed at me, meeting my gaze in the reflection.

"Petey, with your little schmeckle and no body hair, you look you haven't gone through puberty yet!" He grabbed the lobe of my ear and wiggled it as he made me look at my new, smooth body. He said it so gleefully, he was so delighted by my unmanning.

I couldn't recognize the man in the mirror. No, not a man, a boy. I looked weak and under-developed, pale and trembling. Mel had truly turned me back into a boy.

"Maybe an 11 year old boy or so? A little prepubescent virgin boy?" Mel ran his big hand over my chest and stomach, up and down. Still holding me by my ear, his other callused palm groped my hips, my legs. I was shocked by the sight of all the bare skin. I had never felt more naked.

Mel had a point. Without pubes, chest hair, or even leg and arm hair, I really did look younger than my 32 years. He slapped my traumatized backside.

'Don't you agree, Petey sweetheart?" He folded my ear lob painfully between his fingers and shook my head, glaring at me in the mirror, a warning edge to his voice.

"Yes, Sir." I croaked out, head painfully lowered as he continued to crush my ear.

"Then say it, kiddo." His large hand collared the back of my neck as he forced me to look at myself in the mirror. The contrast between our bodies was mind-blowing. I was lean, tautly muscled, my penis shrunken in fear and my body completely hairless. I looked under-developed, about as harmless as a 13 year old boy. His tight hand on my neck had me hunched over bit so that I appeared significantly shorter than him as well. Mel's broad, wide hips, shoulders, big hairy beer gut and chest all dwarfed my dimensions. His imposing barrel chest and stomach, his broad, furry shoulders, the large bulge in his boxer shorts- everything about him was virility and sexual threat. My skin was pale and smooth, his tan and impossibly hairy. In every way I was smaller than him, slight. Even his big furred feet dwarfed mine.

"I look like a little prepubescent boy!" It was the truth. His smile widened with pleasure- my saying made it true, irreversible.

"Compared to you, Daddy, I look like a little prepubescent boy!" I added, and he grinned at my gratuitous self-debasement.

"And are you a virgin?" He demanded. Suddenly he slapped my left ass cheek, which still burned from the long, brutal spanking.

"Yes, yes I'm a virgin. I'm just a virgin." I willingly slandered myself, disavowed my sexual maturity. He stared into my eyes and my mind-raced. Melvin was so deep inside my head.

"You've never stuck this thin little pecker in anyone, have you boy?" He was holding my penis in his forefinger and thumb, waggling it in front of the mirror. I noted with shame that his large fingers dwarfed my little dink.

"No Sir, never!" I lied for him again. It was untrue, but it felt right. Mel was turning me back into a virgin just like had turned me back into a boy. I looked at my penis in this strange man's hand as he shook it around mockingly. I saw it as Mel saw it- just a tiny, virginal pink penis that had never penetrated anyone. A joke, an impotent little toy. A boy's penis. Short, thin and innocent. A boy's little "shmeckle" as he called it. I had never used it like a man uses his cock. I threw myself at the preposterous thought, that I truly was a virgin. For some reason it intoxicated me, to believe that I was every bit the sexless, fearful wimp as Mel made me declare myself.

"Well, I think the tiny thing would just slip right out if you tried, don't you boy?" With the hand not fondling my penis he smacked my butt once more and I cried out in the agreement.

"Yes Sir, it would just slip out!" I leaned into him, let him hold me up, his strong arm around my waist.

"You've never squirted your seed in anyone." He began squeezing my pecker painfully.

"No, no Sir!" I yelped.

"Are you a virgin, boy?!" He spanked both my ass cheeks and I yelped.

"Yes, yes Sir! I'm a virgin, I'm just a virgin, Sir."

"A soft, little-dicked virgin." He held my shoulders and turned me towards him so that I was looking at his face.

"What are you, Petey?"

He made me repeat it again and again - that I was a virgin, that I was just a prepubescent boy, that my penis was smaller than an 8 year old boy's. Again and again, louder and louder, in different increasingly absurd permutations, I had to belittle myself, repudiate my status as a man, declare my identity as a tiny-dicked virgin boy. He took out his phone again and recorded the abdication of my manhood. It felt like a forcible religious conversion or conscription into a rival faction, but he was making me betray myself, betray my self-conception as a sexually capable grown man. Recording a video of me confessing that I was virgin, over and over gain.

"A virgin for life, right Petey!" He spanked me twice.

"Yes Daddy, a virgin for life! A virgin for life!" He grunted and lowered his phone.

"Never forget, this is who you really are, deep down." He growled as he prodded my chest. I nodded bashfully.

Mel had me grab a ruler from the dresser and jerk my penis to its full hardness. He seized the ruler and my throbbing pink erection. 5.2 inches.

"Jesus Christ, just 5 inches. And how tall are you, boy?"

'6'2, Sir."

"On a tall boy like you it looks even smaller. Pathetic! Peter, you have a boy's penis." He proclaimed solemnly and definitively.

"Hold up the ruler to your ridiculous little hard-on, boy." He snapped several photos of me, memorializing both my face and meager manhood.

"Can't wait to show the fellas at the courthouse these." He crowed and winked at me menacingly.

"I bet you'd like to see what a real man's penis looks like." He had a cocky smile on his face. I nodded meekly and he pushed down on my shoulders.