Damon's Demise

By Stimle
published March 17, 2007
3828 words

Straight hunk foolishly makes himself incapable of resisting gay predators

Damon’s Demise by Stimle

Damon Felton was getting ready to head out to meet some friends at Street Scene. Every year, the weekend after Labor Day, several blocks in the trendy Gaslamp District of San Diego were cordoned off and a huge free for all party was held within, complete with bands, booze and babes. Damon lived nearby so he decided to walk. It was about ten blocks or so, not too far. Damon was pretty well connected as far as being able to get his hands on pot or E or GHB, pretty much any kind of party drug. He also liked Valium, which he used to sneak from his mom’s medicine cabinet. Now he had his own supplier. While he was in college Damon had experimented with various combinations, looking for just the right mix to keep him flying high and having fun at parties and clubs. He’d finally succeeded taken some before he left his house, knowing that by the time he reached the Gas Lamp he’d be feeling pretty good. He made sure to bring extra with him in case any of his friends wanted some or if he wanted more.

Street Scene was in full swing when Damon arrived. Wall to wall people, music blaring, and, best of all, babes galore. It was a warm weekend and the ladies were all wearing nice skimpy outfits. Damon himself was wearing cargo shorts and a t-shirt. Damon was a shade over 6 feet tall and had blondish-brown hair and blue eyes. He had a deep voice that sounded like he’d just woken up and a killer body, courtesy of 24-Hour Fitness.

He paid the entrance fee and walked over to the corner where he and his friends had agreed to meet. They were waiting for him. Damon could tell they’d been drinking already just by the way they were acting. They stepped into the nearest club and Damon ordered a whisky sour, his latest drink of choice. His club mix was just beginning to hit and he was counting on the alcohol for an added kick. None of his friends mentioned his stuff, so he didn’t offer. Anyway, they looked like they were doing just fine on their own. Damon was late, work again, so he had some catching up to do. He downed the drink and went up to the bar to order another. He knew he looked good tonight, even though he was dressed pretty casually. He saw the looks the ladies were giving him and he felt the hands “accidentally” brushing up against his ass. The alcohol had begun to mix with the drugs and smiled as a mellow buzz enveloped him. As he sat back down he gave himself another dose, making sure his friends didn’t see.

Soon Damon, as well as his friends, was feeling no pain and was starting to get horny. It was one of the side effects of the drug combo. Shit, with all the babes around, he needed to shove his dick into something. As he looked around the room he didn’t realize he was groping at his crotch.

He may not have realized it, but the four guys at the table across the room had. They’d had their eyes on Damon since he and his buddies had walked in and had even witnessed Damon giving himself more of his party drug. They now had themselves a target. They figured he was one of those pretty boys who liked feeling good while banging a chick.

Lots of guys and girls used party drugs, but not all of them were careful. Damon was always careful. He only used his stuff when he was with his buddies; guys he could trust. Of course, the guys across the room had this all figured out. Everybody knew the rules: don’t accept open drinks from people you don’t know, don’t leave your drink alone, and always travel in pairs or packs. Apparently Damon knew the rules since he was with his friends when he slipped himself the drugs. They’d just have to figure out a way to separate him from the pack.

They didn’t have to wait too long and it wasn’t too hard.

It was past midnight and the guys were moving onto another club, unaware that they were being followed. They decided to check out Ole Madrid when Damon stopped. “Guys, I gotta piss real bad. I’m gonna go in here and then catch up with you in a few,” he said as his friends kept walking. Everybody was so buzzed by this time that he wasn’t even sure if anybody heard him. He stumbled into a dark, seedy looking bar and went to the back to find the bathroom. As he walked through the place he didn’t notice the four guys walk in after him and follow him to the men’s room. Damon was totally buzzing as he made his way, wavering, into the bathroom and leaned against the wall as he let his steady stream of piss hit the trough-style urinal. He probably shouldn’t have taken the Ecstasy his buddy had offered, but he wasn’t about to turn away free drugs. He’d had several drinks by now and two doses of his homemade mixture. Now with the E, he was feeling a little more fucked up than normal. He didn’t like to be that out of it in public. At home or at someone’s house was fine, but in public… no… Shit… he flying. His head was all spinning and he felt all warm and tingly. Damn, he loved this feeling! A smile played across his face as he leaned against the wall, eyes closed, pissing. He didn’t hear the bathroom door open or see the four guys line up at the urinal. He finished pissing but his pants were still open and his cock was still out.

“Hey man, you okay?” he heard a voice ask. He opened his eyes to see four guys about his age looking at him.

Damon laughed a little. “Yeah,” he said, shoving his cock back into his underwear. He buttoned his cargo shorts and stumbled over to the sink to wash his hands. “Just feeling good.”

“You look good, too,” one of the guys said, moving next to Damon at the sink.

“Hmmm?” Damon asked. The water was running and he couldn’t hear what the guy had said.

“I said ‘you look good, too,’” the guy repeated.

Damon looked at his reflection in the mirror, puzzled for a few seconds to see his own face staring back. Then he realized what the guy said. He shook his head and let out a little laugh.

“Sorry guys, but I’m straight. Thanks for the compliment, though.” He grabbed some paper towels to dry his hands and looked back into the mirror. He was weaving back and forth.

“Shit,” another voice said behind him, “this guy is gone.”

The guy at the sink took the cue and put his hand on Damon’s shoulder. “So you’re straight? Well, let me see about that.” He gently pushed the buzzed stud against the wall and lowered his other hand to his crotch. Right there, in the middle of the bathroom, he unzipped Damon’s shorts and slipped his hand inside and brushing his thumb back and forth over Damon’s dick, causing the soft material of his underwear to chafe and polish his prick tip. Damon’s dick got hard and he couldn’t suppress a moan.

“If you’re so straight, why are you moaning like you like it? Do you like it?” the guy said, leaning close and whispering in Damon’s ear. “Yeah, I bet it feels good.”

“Nooo….” Damon said softly. He knew what the fag was doing, but he didn’t try to resist his advances. He felt hypnotized by the drugs and the soft voice. Plus the hands on his dick were almost magical.

“Why don’t we get out of here,” the guy suggested, zipping Damon’s fly. Two guys each took hold Damon’s arms and the fourth guy opened the door. “We can go someplace a little quieter.”

As they maneuvered him through the open door and down a back hallway, Damon finally began to come to his senses. “Hey…” he muttered, trying to shake free. “I’m good, man, I’m good. I said I’m straight.”

He was pushed back into the bathroom and the door was quickly shut. He was ushered into the disabled stall and his arms held behind his back. “I didn’t say I was straight,” the guy whispered. The hand was back in his fly, massaging his dick and balls. Damon moaned again, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. When he opened his eyes he saw the third guy holding a small brown bottle. The bottle was put to his nose and before he knew it, Damon had inhaled.

“Uhhnn… fuck….” Damon moaned as the aroma from the bottle rushed to his brain. What the fuck was this stuff? His body slumped forward and the hand on his crotch sped up its massage. “Unnnhh…”

“Yeah, that’s it buddy,” the guy said, putting the bottle to Damon’s other nostril. “Have some more.” Damon was so out of it he didn’t resist and he took another deep snort. They gave him a couple more hits in each nostril and then him between them and helped him out the bathroom door. To anyone watching it looked like four guys helping their drunken buddy.

Instead of heading back into the club, the guys moved Damon out the back door and into a deserted alley. It was quiet in the alley; all the action was on the streets and in the clubs.

The drugs, E, and booze had thrown poor Damon into outer-fucking-space. Plus, he was still disoriented from the stuff in the little brown bottle.

He was half-carried, half-dragged behind a set of dumpsters and was set down on a stack of wooden pallets. He was aware of the guys pulling his shirt over his head and then felt his body being slowly lowered onto the crate. His shorts were undone and lowered to his ankles. He was wearing white boxer briefs and they were bulging with his erection.

“Mmm… everybody loves fruit,” one of the guys said, commenting on Damon’s tight Fruit of the Loom trunk briefs.

The other guys didn’t say much. They pulled Damon up and then pushed him down to his knees. His mouth was pried open and he felt something being shoved inside. It was a dick! He tried to spit it out and turn his head, but it was held in place. Damon could feel the cock sliding in and out of his mouth in a slow rhythm and he suddenly felt it tense up and shoot its load into his mouth and down his throat. Damon gagged on the spooge sliding down his throat, but he was helpless to do anything about it. He got his hands free and tried to push the guy away. The dick, still spurting, pulled out of his mouth and blasted its jizz onto Damon’s face.

The guys laughed and pulled Damon to his feet. He hobbled as they put him back on the pallets, forcing him to his hands and knees. Another dick was shoved in his mouth and began to face fuck him. It was useless to resist because he was so fucked up, but Damon still tried. He felt a sharp blow to his ribs and then another. He heard the guys telling him to settle down.

As Damon took the hit, he felt his boxer briefs being pulled down. “Oh yeah, man, everybody DOES love fruit!”

Poor Damon. There he was, down on his hands and knees being assaulted by four gay men, dick in his mouth and ass. The guy whose dick was in his mouth was holding onto Damon’s ears like they were handles or something as he pumped his hips back and forth like a set of pistons. Two of the guys were lying on their backs underneath him, tweaking, tonguing, biting and pulling at his tits as well as jerking his hard dick. It was only a matter of time before he began to cum. The guy put his mouth on Damon’s dick and sucked up all his cum, then he pulled the guy fucking Damon’s face away, and kissed Damon on the mouth, forcing the young stud to swallow his own cum. Before Damon could even gag or spit, the first guy had his cock back in, thrusting away.

Damon tried to scream and fight the men off, but whatever drugs they’d given him had rendered him virtually helpless. Shit, he could barely catch his breath, what with the fat cock plugging up his mouth. He finally got the hang of breathing through his nostrils, trying to shut out all thoughts of the physical assault on him. He found he could breathe fairly regularly and was less panicked now that he knew he wasn’t going to die from asphyxiation. But suddenly there was a small brown bottle being pushed up against each nostril. It was that shit they’d used on him earlier. He heard one of the guys call it poppers. Whatever it was, he’d never even heard of it before. He tried to hold his breath, remembering what had happened before, but he was so tired and beaten down that it was virtually impossible. Finally, when he couldn’t hold his breath any longer, he took a breath. Reluctantly. The aroma from the bottles rushed to his brain and caused his head to spin and his body to slump.

Whoah!!!! What a mind fuck…. He heard a voice… it seemed so distant… telling him to relax and take another sniff. He found himself obeying. Once again his brain rocketed off into space. What the fuck was this stuff?

Damon tried to cry out or whimper but the cock plugging his throat muffled his voice. He felt something slimy running up and down his ass crack and realized it was a tongue and it was gradually forcing its way into his virgin ass. There was also that hand on his dick, slowly jacking him off, making him cum against his will.

Damon looked up and saw that the guy fucking his face had pulled out a cell phone. Was he calling his friends! The fucker was calling his fucking friends to come and fuck him!

The tongue continued to probe his ass as the dickhead banged the back of his throat. The hand on his cock sped up and pretty soon he shot yet another wad all over himself.

“Oh yeah!” a voice cried out. The dick pulled out of his mouth and three fingers took its place. They were slimy with some kind of goop and Damon realized it was his own cum. His mouth was clamped shut and the fingers started to stroke his throat. He swallowed. Shit, not again! He’d just swallowed his own scum and the other guy’s, too. His jaw was pried open again and the cock was there again, thrusting, thrusting, and thrusting.

“Yeah bitch! Suck it!” A finger was trying to work its way into his tight ass pucker, but he clenched with everything he had left in him. He wasn’t about to let a bunch of faggots take his cherry!

“Fuckin’ fag! Look at his hard dick and the way he’s swallowin’ that cum. I think he likes it!” The dick in his mouth began to shoot and the guy put his hand on the back of Damon’s head to hold him in place and make sure he swallowed it all. As he was gagging the fuck slop down, he saw headlights approach. For a second he thought he was saved, but then realized it was the guys’ friends. The Ford Explorer pulled right up to the dumpster and two guys got out.

“What the fuck? Oh man!” the first guy said, catching sight of Damon on his hands and knees being worked over by the three guys.

The second guy got out of the passenger side and opened the back door. “Let’s get him out of here,” he said.

Damon was yanked to his feet and pulled toward the Ford. His jeans and underwear were still at his ankles, making it hard for him to walk. The guys laughed at him. “Grab his shirt,” a voice said.

Damon was pushed into the back seat of the Ford and a guy got in on either side of him. The rest piled in wherever they could fit. The Explorer did a three-point turn and made its way carefully out of the alley and down a series of deserted side streets. As Damon’s arms were lifted up he looked out the window. It looked as if they were driving around the same streets. He felt his wrists being cuffed to the plastic handles on either side. Someone opened a bottle of pills and passed one to everybody in the car. He heard the word Viagra. He wasn’t given one. Instead someone snapped a silver cockring on him and put a bottle of tequila to his mouth, forcing him to drink.

The guys on either side of him spread his legs, pulled him forward in his seat and began to play with his body, twisting his nipples, grabbing his dick, and shoving fingers up his ass. A guy behind him slipped his fingers into Damon’s mouth, muffling his moans.

By the time they reached their destination, the Viagra the guys had kicked in and their pants and shorts were all bulging. Damon’s dick, because of the cockring and the drugs he’d taken earlier, was rigid, too. His wrists were untied and he was pulled from the car. They were in a garage and he was led inside, up a flight of stairs, his shorts and underwear still down. He found himself in a large room. A living room. There were more guys inside and his arms were held to his side as the tequila was put to his mouth. They made him drink several swigs, maybe 6 or 7 shots, and passed him a joint they’d all been smoking. They’d all been drinking, too. The place was littered with empty beer cans and liquor bottles. They made him get on the coffee table and again he was pushed down to his hands and knees. His shoes were taken off and his shorts and underwear, which were still around his ankles, were stripped off and tossed onto the couch.

It didn’t take long for the tequila to hit him or for the guys to get to work. He felt his ass cheeks being spread and a wet tongue lick his pucker. He started to moan and another dick slipped into his mouth. Hands began playing with his nipples and dick again. There were cocks fucking at his ears and he was aware of cameras clicking in the background.

All of a sudden a pain shot through his body and he realized that someone had shoved their dick up his ass. His virgin cherry had just been busted. He couldn’t even scream out because his mouth was plugged with cock. He was given more poppers and as the dick thrust into his ass again he felt something he’d never felt before. Some kind of tingle. His ass was tingling! His body rocked back and forth as a succession of guys fucked his face and ass. He lost count after the tenth dick or so, as more tequila was poured down his throat and he was given more poppers.

Damon didn’t know how many guys fucked him that night. He was so drunk and high that after awhile he stopped resisting and just gave in, letting the guys have their way with him.

He woke up the next day, the room empty. His watch was still on and he looked at it. It was 1:00 in the afternoon. He was on the floor on his back, naked except his socks. He looked up. His clothes and shoes were in a heap in the corner. From what he could tell he was alone in some kind of apartment.

He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. It was tacky from the drying cum. In fact, his whole body was covered in cum. His dick twitched when he thought back to last night and he realized that his ass was throbbing. There was cum dripping from it. He tried to push everything out of his mind as he struggled to his feet and looked for a bathroom. He stepped into the shower and turned the water on and just stood there, letting the water cascade over him.

Twenty minutes later he turned the water off and dried off. He padded back into the living room and grabbed his clothes. A small stack of Polaroids fluttered to the ground. He picked them up and looked at them. They were pictures of him in different positions, getting fucked in the face and ass. He slipped them in his back pocket. Once dressed, he looked out the window to see where he was. He recognized the neighborhood; it was a few blocks from the Gaslamp District and only a few blocks from his house.

Half an hour later he was home. He opened his front door and went inside to find his roommate watching a ball game.

“Dude, what happened to you last night,” his roommate asked, not looking up. “The guys said you bailed on ‘em. Did somebody get lucky last night?”

“Yeah,” Damon muttered, a hint of bitterness in his voice. He grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge. “You could say that.”

Mind control
Wanking material
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