Nineteen now, still the same boyish face and lean gymnast body, but the innocence was long gone. The chastity pouch had been downsized twice more over the summer. His little clit was permanently tucked so deep and flat that the smooth pink mound between his legs looked like nothing more than a soft, useless fold. The brothers had lasered him again and again until his entire body was porcelain-smooth, and the silver bars in his nipples now had heavier chains that clinked whenever he moved.
He still cooked every meal. He still aced his IT classes. And every single night the house used him harder than the last.
Fall Semester – The Open House
The first big event of the year was the annual “Open House” for alumni and potential new recruits. Brock (now a senior) decided Jem would be the main attraction.
They dressed him in a tiny white apron, nothing else. The chastity pouch glittered under the lights. His boy-cunt, already permanently puffy and half-open from a full year of abuse, was plugged with a thick black plug that had a little tail hanging down. The plug was remote-controlled. Every time an alumnus pressed the button, Jem’s knees buckled and a wet sound leaked out of him.
By midnight the living room was a free-use zone. Jem was bent over the pool table with his ankles locked to the legs, arms tied behind his back, while a line of older men in suits took turns stretching his cunt wider. One particularly thick alumnus stayed inside him for twenty minutes, grinding deep while the others drank and watched. When he finally pulled out, Jem’s hole stayed open in a perfect, glistening O, drooling thick white ropes onto the felt.
Someone filmed it. Someone else shoved a phone under his face so he could watch his own ruined cunt gaping on the screen while another cock slammed back in.
He came twice that night — ruined, hands-free, prostate orgasms that left him shaking and sobbing. The brothers just laughed and pushed more length into him.
Winter – The Downsizing
In January the engineering majors brought out the new pouch.
Jem was tied spread-eagle on the basement bench while they unlocked the old one. His tiny clit had shrunk further from months of constant compression. It looked almost vestigial. The new cage was even smaller, tighter, designed to force everything completely inside his body. When they locked it, the front of him was perfectly smooth and feminine — nothing but a soft, sealed mound.
He begged again that night.
“Please… it hurts… I think it’s dying…”
Brock kissed his forehead sweetly and answered by fist-fucking him open on the floor in front of the entire house. Four fingers, then five, then the whole hand, slow and cruel, until Jem’s boy-cunt stretched around Brock’s wrist. They kept him like that for an hour while the others took turns using his throat. When Brock finally pulled free, Jem’s hole stayed cavernous, pulsing, and leaking.
They pierced his tongue the same night as punishment for complaining. A thick silver ring that made every blowjob wetter and louder.
Spring Break – The Road Trip
The house took him on a week-long road trip to a private cabin. No classes. No escape.
They kept him naked the entire time. Collar. Leash. The heavy nipple chains. His cunt was never empty for more than ten minutes. They rotated him between the brothers like a shared toy — one cock in his hole, another in his throat, hands on his chained nipples, the remote buzzing the plug they sometimes forced back in just to watch him cry.
One night they made him cook dinner while being double-penetrated, bent over the kitchen counter, both holes stretched around thick shafts while he tried to flip steaks with shaking hands. Cum dripped down his thighs onto the floor. They made him lick it up afterward.
On the last night they edged him for six hours. No release for his locked clit — only relentless prostate milking until he was a sobbing, drooling mess, ruined orgasms leaking from his untouched cage while his gaping boy-cunt kept taking more.
End of Year – The Final Exam
Finals week. Jem still managed a 3.9 GPA.
The night after his last exam, the brothers held a “graduation” ceremony for their pleasure boy. They filled the living room with every toy they owned. Inflatable plugs. Extreme stretchers. A massive horse cock dildo. Two fisting gloves.
They worked him open for three straight hours.
By the end, Jem was on his back, legs folded to his chest, his boy-cunt so thoroughly ruined that two brothers could fist him at the same time, hands sliding past each other inside the wet, stretched heat. Cum from the entire house painted his smooth body, filled his guts, and leaked from his open hole in thick white rivers.
They left him like that until morning — gaping, used, collared, locked, and smiling through the tears.
Sophomore year ended with Jem more broken, more devoted, and more addicted to being the house’s perfect, permanent boy-cunt than ever.
He already knew junior year would be worse.
And he couldn’t wait.
