Buzz was a chubby fellow in his early 20s. He lived alone in agarage apartment behind Mr. Stevens house and had recently lost his job as a laborer for a handyman.
Mr. Stevens, the landlord, was a beefy bear of a man. He'd playedcollege football for a nearby state college and still met monthly with his fellow linesmen for a friendly poker game.
Knowing the young Buzz might need a chance to make some cash, Mr. Stevens invited him to the next poker game. Buzz hesitantly accepted. He recognized the opportunity to make some much-needed money, but he was inexperienced at the poker table.
The night arrived, and so did the linesmen. Three husky men in their early 40s crowded into the dining room with cigars and beer. Buzz didn't care much for the cigars or smoke, but he was quite at home with a brew in hand.
After several hands of poker and untold cans of beer, Buzz stood to excuse himself. He'd lost his cash and saw no need to continue smelling the cigar smoke.
Where are you going, Buzz? Mr. Stevens asked.
I guess I'm gonna go turn in, Mr. Stevens. I'm outta money. Buzz moved toward the back door.
Wait, Buzz. Don't go. Mr. Stevens requested. We're all having a good time here. And the other burly men offered grunts and sounds of agreement. Come on. Sit back down. We'll work something out.
Buzz returned to the table and agreed to continue playing. He would offer his articles of clothing against the other men's money. Mr. Howell had suggested it, and everyone laughed. Buzz, too, thought it was a funny idea.
Soon, Buzz was taking off his socks and left with no clothing other than his underwear.
_d_a_m_n_, cursed Buzz. And the men were all hooting delightfully at the kid's predicament. Buzz gathered his pile of belongings and stood.
Hey, complained Mr. Howell. You can't take those. You lost them. Buzz was incredulous.
Mr. Stevens spoke up. Come on, Buzz. The game ain't over. Besides, you still have something to bet. He motioned to Buzz's underwear. Buzz stood by the door with his paunch, his muscular thighs, and his bubble butt packed tightly in his Fruit of the Looms.
Look, guys. It's been kind fun. Thanks for inviting me. But, it's time to go home. Then, Buzz turned and started to leave.
Buzz, if you are leaving now, you need to give me your overdue rent money. I've let it slide a week, and now I need it to continue the game with these guys.
There was a moment of silence. Uh. But, . . . , I don't have it, Mr. Stevens.
You don't have it! What do you mean you don't have it? It's over a week late, boy!
Yes, sir. But, what I mean is, . . . I don't have any money.
The linesmen chuckled and turned to Mr. Stevens. Well, said Mr. Stevens, I'll just have to get my money out of you a different way. There was another moment of silence. Go and get me another beer boy. And look in the drawer to the right of the fridge and bring me that metal spatula, too
Buzz reluctantly shuffled into to kitchen, his plump cheeks flexing against his straining underwear. Shortly, he reappeared in the doorway with a beer in one hand and the metal spatula in the other. When he stepped into the dining room, he was blind-sided by two of the linemen. They tackled him and wrestled him to the floor. Buzz protested and tried to resist, but it was a lesson in futility.
He was hoisted to his feet and led to the back of a couch. The two barrel-chested men bent him over and held him in place. Mr. Stevens picked up the beer can and the spatula. He stood behind Buzz and opened the beer, which promptly spewed all over Buzz back, legs, and chubby butt.
Awww, Buzz. Your underwear is all wet. Mr. Stevens said to a chorus of giggles from the huge linesmen. Let us take care of those for you.
Buzz shouted a muffled Noooo! But, despite his struggles for freedom, he felt a forefinger and thumb gingerly grasp the waistband of his briefs. Very slowly, the waisteband was pulled out away from his skin and began a delicate descent. Mr. Stevens and the other men were smiling at the humility they brought on Buzz. The top half of Buzz's milky white bottom was exposed.
Look, gentlemen. It's a big baby's butt. Mr. Stevens observed and the small crowd hooted.
A few second later, Buzz could feel the draft of air on his cheeks andhe knew he was fully displayed. Mr. Stevens had gone slowly to tease and prolong the embarassment. But, once Buzz was exposed in all his glory, Mr. Stevens then quickly ripped the under down to the ankles.
Buzz was humiliated and scared. The underwear came off, leaving him completely naked in the room of men. Suddenly, the metal spatula landed squarely in the middle of Buzz's right butt cheek. SMACK! Buzz yelped. But, his face was mashed into a couch cushion. Then on his left cheek, a harder blow. SMAAACK! Buzz yelped into his cushion again.
The men took turns delivering between 20 and 30 blows on each full globe of Buzz's plump posterior. Its milky whiteness had disappeared beneath crimson red patterns of fire-hot discipline.
By the third spanker, Buzz had entered a numbness. And, other than involuntary spasms and jerks, he'd stopped struggling, though his relaxed ass continued jiggling to the amusement of the gathered linesmen.
The spanking stopped for a minute. Buzz's puffy eyes remained closed, as he pretended he was somewhere else. Mr. Stevens reached up between the boy's meaty thighs and grasped a rock-hard erection and pulled it back between the spread legs.
Well, I'll be. Looky here gentlemen. This punk kid is enjoying his punishment. Mr. Stevens tightened his grasp around the thick shaft and stroked it a few times. Let's roll him over, guys.
The linesmen twisted Buzz over onto his back. He was still bent backwards over the couch. Now, his full erection and teary-eyed face were on display. Buzz's _c_o_c_k_ was a little more than seven inches long, but it was very thick with a bulbous mushroom head. It was rigid as a stone.
Mr. Stevens alternatingly spanked each side of Buzz's shaft. After each smack, he paused to watch it sway and snap back into place. Then, he'd unload a smack again. WHACK! WHACK! That's when Buzz finally cut lose with the bawling. He was crying like a newborn babe. But, his _d_i_c_k_ was unyielding in its stiffness.
Okay, boy. We're gonna let you go. Then, I want you to relieve this little pecker right here. It needs some attention. I want you to tug off. And I'll give you one minute, . . . or else. Then, Mr. Stevens slapped the swollen _c_o_c_k_ once more.
When the men let go, the chubby kid stood with tears on his round face. His right hand slipped around his member and began to pump. Soon, it was a blur of speed, as the men cheered him on.
Let's see it, boy. Spray it. Squirt that cum!
Buzz became oblivious to all that had happened. He dropped to his knees with his eyes closed. His left hand kneeded his balls while his right hand continued the rapid stroking.
Come on, boy. Only twenty more second!
Buzz seemed to shift gears with his stroking hand and he leaned forward and put his left hand out to support his weight. This positioned his blazing red ass in front of Mr. Stevens, who couldn't resist. Mr. Stevens began a series of rapid blows on the upturned, glowing bum.
You've only got ten more seconds, boy! Lets see that load! Pound that meat! Eight! Seven! Six! Five!
Then it happened, Buzz arched his back, lifting his ass into the rain of rapid whacks, and ribbons of creamy goo spewed from his aching _c_o_c_k_. His mushroom head pulsed, and his piss-slit opened for another eruption of globby seed. The carpet beneath the stocky kid was drenched in fresh jism. He was spent and exhausted and collapsed onto the blobs of his own semen.
Two of the linesmen had also fallen on the floor, but they were in fits of laughter. Their glee could not be contained, and they guffawed with total abandon.
Mr. Stevens, too, was having a hard time sucking in breath between the laughter. Finally, he kicked at Buzz's red butt and said: Get up, boy. And get back up to your apartment. And your little bubbly butt had better hope you can come up with the rent by next Tuesday.
I don't think it can take much more of this.
His head hung low, Buzz stood and shuffled toward the door. He made no effort to conceal his nakedness. His semi-hard prick still had a strand of cum clinging and swaying with each step. And, as his plump, soar ass flexed with each step, the linesmen stared after. They had an evening of greater entertainment than they had anticipated. And they all hoped that the stocky kid would be unable to pay his rent and prompt another round of discipline.