Ryan stood in front of the cracked mirror in his cramped apartment bathroom, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead like a swarm of angry bees. At 24, he still looked like the scrawny kid from high school...short, barely 5'5", with a slight build that screamed "delicate" rather than "manly." His features were soft: high cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that were too wide, too expressive.
Feminine, they'd called him back then. Fag. Sissy. Pretty boy. The words echoed in his mind as he traced a finger along his jawline, smooth and hairless even without shaving.
He'd tried to bulk up once, hitting the gym in college, but his body refused to cooperate. It stayed lithe, almost girlish, with narrow shoulders and hips that flared just enough to make jeans hug him in ways that drew stares which he both hated and secretly craved.
High school had been hell. The bullies cornered him in the locker room after gym class, shoving him against the cold metal lockers, laughing as they yanked at his shorts. "Look at that tiny dick," one would sneer, while the others howled.
Ryan's penis..three inches at full mast, thin as a finger, had always been his deepest shame. It hadn't grown like the other boys', stunted, he figured, from years of furious, guilty masturbation.
Porn had been his escape, his release from the torment. Locked in his room, he'd lose himself in videos of strong, dominant men taking what they wanted.
At first, it was anything....straight, gay, whatever popped up. But over time, his tastes sharpened, zeroing in on black men with bodies like gods, their cocks massive, veiny monsters that commanded worship.
Tonight was no different. Ryan stripped off his work shirt, a plain button-up from his job at the investment firm, and let it fall to the floor.
His chest was smooth, nipples small but perky, already hardening in the cool air. He cupped them absently, pinching one until a spark of pleasure-pain shot through him.
Freak, he thought, but his cock twitched in his boxers. He padded to his bedroom, the apartment silent except for the distant hum of city traffic outside.
His place was a shoebox in the financial district..cheap rent, but it meant long hours crunching numbers in the firm's basement-level office, invisible among the suits upstairs.
He flopped onto his unmade bed, laptop balanced on his thighs. The screen glowed to life, and he navigated to his favorite site with practiced clicks.
Click click
No subscriptions; he couldn't afford that yet. Free videos would do. He scrolled past the usual thumbnails until one caught his eye: a petite white guy on his knees, eyes wide with adoration, facing a towering black man whose cock oh God!, it had to be nine inches, thick as a wrist..jutted out like a challenge.
Mmmhn
Ryan's breath hitched. He clicked play, volume low, heart pounding.
The video started slow, the sub...blonde, slim, not unlike Ryan..crawling forward on all fours.
"Please, sir," the sub whimpered, voice high and needy. The black dom smirked, stroking his massive shaft lazily. "You want this, boy? Beg for it." Ryan's hand slipped into his boxers, wrapping around his own pathetic length. He stroked slowly, matching the rhythm as the sub leaned in, tongue extended, licking the tip reverently.
Mmmhn~ahh!
The dom grabbed his hair, forcing him deeper. Gags and moans filled the speakers, and Ryan's hips bucked involuntarily. He imagined it was him...his mouth stretched wide, throat burning, tears streaming as he worshipped that monster cock. The thought made him leak pre-cum, slicking his fingers.
"Fuck ahhn," Ryan moaned, pumping faster. The video escalated: the dom flipped the sub onto his back, spreading his legs wide.
"You're just a hole for me," the dom growled, pushing in inch by inch. The sub's cries were pure ecstasy, body arching as he took it all. Ryan's mind raced
What would that feel like? Being filled, owned, reduced to a pussy for a real man? His orgasm built quickly, too quickly, spilling over his hand in weak spurts.
He collapsed back, panting, the video still playing. Shame washed over him like always, but beneath it simmered something else: hunger. He cleaned up with a tissue, tossing it aside, and closed the laptop.
Work tomorrow. Another day of spreadsheets and coffee runs, blending into the background. His boss, Mr Carter a tall, imposing black man with a voice like thunder barely noticed him. Ryan had caught himself staring once or twice, at the way Carter's suits strained over his broad chest, wondering what hid beneath.
But that was fantasy.
Reality was his family's debts, his drunkard father had racked up thousands before skipping town, leaving Ryan's mom to scrape by on waitress tips. And then there was Jayden, his 18-year-old brother, smart as hell and eyeing college.
Ryan sent money home every paycheck, but it wasn't enough. He needed more...a second job, maybe. Something easy, something from home.
He glanced at the clock
midnight!
Sleep tugged at him, but his mind wandered back to the video. What if he could make money like that?
No!, ridiculous.
He wasn't that guy. Or was he? His reflection in the dark window stared back, soft and inviting. Feminine. Submissive. The thought stirred him again, his tiny cock twitching despite the recent release.
Ryan sighed, turning off the light. Tomorrow was another grind. But deep down, in that spiraling pool of desire, he knew he was sinking further. And part of him didn't want to surface.