Richard Thompson had always been the undisputed alpha in every circle he moved through. At thirty eight, standing six foot two and carrying two hundred and thirty five pounds of Ironman forged muscle, he commanded attention without trying.
His broad shoulders, thick chest dusted with dark hair, and sharply defined abs were the result of relentless training. Yet it was the lower half of his body that often drew his own quiet pride and occasional frustration a large, powerful, surprisingly fat arse that filled out every pair of shorts and trousers he owned.
Thick, coarse black hair covered those heavy cheeks, growing especially dense and wild in the deep cleft between them.
He was married to Harriet, a good woman who had given him two children, and he wore his straight, successful, family man identity like armour.
Cocky, loud, and quick with a joke or a slap on the back, Richard believed he was untouchable.
His best friend Miles Harrington was cut from almost the same cloth. Slightly taller and heavier at six foot three, Miles matched Richard’s arrogance and athletic build.
They had been inseparable since their early twenties, pushing each other through races, gym sessions, and nights out.
Both men were married. Both had everything to lose. And both carried similarly large, fat, hairy arses that had become the secret focus of their increasingly bold banter during the Ibiza lads’ holiday.
The trip had started as pure fun. Sun, booze, clubs, and the kind of relentless piss taking that only old mates can get away with.
But from the first day, Miles had been playing a deeper game.
While Richard laughed and drank, Miles carefully spiked every one of his drinks with microdoses of Viagra to keep his cock heavy and throbbing. along with a powerful new compound called RectoThrob that made the arse hypersensitive and created an intense, aching emptiness that grew harder to ignore with each passing day.
At first Richard brushed off the strange sensations. He couldn’t understand why his cock stayed semi hard for hours or why his hole kept twitching with unexplained need.
He put it down to the heat, the alcohol, and the constant sight of half naked bodies around the pool. Miles simply smiled and kept the banter going, his hand occasionally lingering a second too long when he slapped or squeezed Richard’s fat arse.
By the final night, the trap was ready to spring. The group hit the beach bar hard. Miles made sure Richard’s drinks were stronger and more frequent than anyone else’s. By two in the morning, Richard was completely wrecked head spinning, legs unsteady, body burning with a deep, confusing hunger.
His cock had been rock hard for hours and refused to soften. His fat arse clenched rhythmically, desperate in a way that terrified and aroused him at the same time.
The other two lads stumbled back to the apartment early. Miles guided Richard to their shared room and locked the door behind them with a quiet click that sounded final.
“Take off your shirt,” Miles said, his voice low and commanding. “Leave the boxers on.”
Richard, too drunk and foggy to argue with his oldest friend, obeyed. He wore his favourite bright red Tommy Hilfiger boxer briefs. The premium stretch cotton clung to his thick thighs like a second skin. The waistband sat low on his hips, cutting into the soft flesh just above his crack. The leg holes rode high, framing the heavy lower curves of his massive arse while the bright red fabric disappeared completely between his plump, hairy cheeks. Coarse black hair curled out wildly from every opening, especially thick where the material vanished into his cleft.
At the front, the pouch bulged obscenely around his unrelenting erection.
Miles wore a pair of tight black Hugo Boss athletic boxer briefs. The short legs had ridden up, exposing the lower half of his own large, fat, hairy arse. The black microfibre stretched tight across his powerful glutes.
Miles stepped forward and spun Richard around, shoving him face down onto the bed. He took his time peeling the red Tommy Hilfigers down just far enough to expose those massive cheeks.
Then he dropped to his knees and buried his face between them.
The rimming was slow, deliberate, and devastating. Miles licked long stripes through the dense hair, tasting sweat and pure masculine musk. He spread the heavy cheeks wider, his tongue circling the fat, virgin pucker that twitched desperately under the influence of RectoThrob.
Every lap sent shocks of unwanted pleasure through Richard. The hole fluttered and winked, trying to pull Miles’s tongue deeper. Miles sucked on the hairy ring, pushed his tongue inside, and ate him out with total dominance while Richard moaned helplessly into the pillow.
“Why is my body doing this?” Richard groaned, voice thick with confusion and shame.
“Because deep down you need it,” Miles replied, his voice thick with satisfaction.
“And tonight you’re going to get it.”
He reached underneath, pulled the Tommy Hilfigers further down Richard’s thighs, and locked a small pink metal cock cage around the throbbing erection.
Richard gasped as the cage clicked shut, trapping his Viagra hard cock in tight, humiliating confinement.
Miles spent long minutes teasing him stroking the cage, flicking the trapped head, squeezing the bulging pouch through the red fabric while Richard squirmed.
Then Miles mounted him.
He pressed the thick head of his cock against the hypersensitive, twitching hole and pushed inside.
Thanks to the drug, Richard’s fat hairy arse opened far more easily than it should have, the walls rippling and gripping greedily.
Miles sank in slowly, savouring every inch until his hips pressed against the plump cheeks.
The dense black hair around the entrance brushed against his shaft.
The fucking that followed was long and thorough. Miles started with deep, controlling strokes, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in, making sure Richard felt every inch.
He kept one hand firmly on the back of Richard’s neck, a constant reminder of who was in charge. His other hand frequently reached underneath to touch and tease the caged knob, stroking it through the bars, flicking the leaking head, keeping Richard on edge without mercy.
He took him in every position. Face down, the fat cheeks rippling with each impact. On his back with thick legs over Miles’s shoulders, staring into his best mate’s eyes as he was dominated.
On all fours like an animal, Miles slapping the heavy cheeks red while reaching under to play with the trapped, erect cock.
Throughout it all, Richard’s mind spun. He was straight. He was married. Yet his hole clenched desperately around Miles’s cock and his own knob stayed painfully hard inside its cage.
The submission terrified him, but the pleasure kept building.
After nearly an hour of relentless domination, Miles buried himself deep and came, flooding Richard’s guts with hot cum. He stayed inside for a long time afterwards, occasionally flexing his cock and reaching down to touch the caged erection.
While Richard lay there leaking and broken, Miles took dozens of photos and videos.
Then he emptied Richard’s suitcase of every proper pair of boxers and replaced them with a single tiny white “I Love Ibiza” briefs.
The cheap tourist pair was several sizes too small. The front pouch was minuscule. The back was little more than a narrow string that disappeared completely between Richard’s fat hairy cheeks.
“From now on you wear what I give you,” Miles said calmly.
“This stays our secret. You tell anyone your wife, the lads, anyone and these pictures destroy your life. You belong to me now.”
The next morning at the airport, Miles repeatedly tugged Richard’s shorts down in front of the other lads, laughing it off as banter.
The tiny “I Love Ibiza” briefs looked ridiculous on the big man. The narrow back strip vanished between his hairy cheeks. The front barely contained the caged bulge. Miles kept casually reaching over to touch and adjust the trapped knob through the fabric whenever he could.
In a disabled toilet before boarding, Miles made Richard get on his knees and rim his sweaty, musky, hungover arse. Richard obeyed, licking deep between the plump cheeks while Miles played with the caged erection poking out of the tiny briefs.
When Richard finally got home, the real challenge began. He hid the cock cage and the humiliating underwear from Harriet as best he could, making excuses to shower alone and change quickly. His cock still refused to stay soft.
His arse still ached and twitched. He felt changed no longer the untouchable alpha he had always believed himself to be.
The following morning an Amazon package arrived. Inside were several pairs of tiny, childish briefs printed with Pokémon and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
A note from Miles read simply: New pair every day. Send proof. Touch that locked cock and remember who owns you now.
Richard stared at the colourful pile of fabric while his wife called out from the kitchen asking what had been delivered.
The once cocky, arrogant straight man felt a deep wave of submission wash over him.
Miles had broken him completely, and the secret domination had only just begun.
Hello, my name is Ricky rousing I write stories about cocky arrogant men who become submissive.
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