Cut Off In His Prime 2
“I’m up, Mom! I’m getting dressed!” Channing cried out in a panic, diving up from his prone position on the bed and practically barreling into the bedroom door. His mother gave a shocked shout on the other side as it slammed shut. The teen’s face was bright red with embarrassment, his chest heaving rapidly. “Give me a second!”
“Oh, al-alright then. Breakfast is ready, hun.” She stammered, obviously very startled by his sudden reaction. With that she padded away down the stairs.
Channing listened intently until he was certain she was gone before exhaling heavily. With his bare bottom resting against the door the boy leaned forward and buried his face in his hands. He hadn’t been dreaming. He had not even been sleeping - a fact readily obvious as his face distorted in a long yawn. The night before was unfortunately very real.
A melancholy sigh found its way out of Channing’s pursed lips and he ran his hand over the smooth surface of his crotch where his privates had been only the night before. The night had gone by so quickly and the events in between were such a blur, it was as though he had only put the ring on a few minutes ago.
His eyes fell on the bed side where his cock laid, the metal ring around its base somehow keeping the boy very much aware of every sensation performed to the severed member and magnifying it. Channing could feel it twitch - still ready for action and hungry for more. Biting his lower lip undecidedly, the boy thought of the amazing orgasms he’d had and found himself just as eager for more. Maybe just a few more climaxes before he went to see Lyov.
No! The ring was doing something to him that much was plain to see. He was a horny teenager but this was out of control, he thought. Channing clenched his fists and made up his mind.
Gingerly he picked up his severed cock and balls, wiping away a bead of precum that had formed on the tip and whimpering with pleasure as the penis responded to the touch by bobbing slightly. Not wanting to test his restraint Channing quickly pulled the case off of one of his pillows and slid his privates inside. He then wrapped the package up like it was some fragile china dish and stuck it in his backpack along with the original container and the Russian instructions.
With the temptation out of the way the boy set to work stripping the soiled sheets from his bed and piling them in his already overflowing closet. He’d deal with that chaos once he got back. Unfortunately many of the stains had soaked right through to the mattress - those marks would be with him for a long while. Hopefully Mom never found out about them.
Channing couldn’t hide the grimace when he saw himself in the long mirror attached to the back of his door. Like some whore from one of his gang rape videos on the internet he was literally caked in cum. His lips and chest was crusted with dried semen that stuck out against the freckle patterned background of his skin, his blonde hair was stuck together and glued to his head like a plaster cast. There was no way he was going outside like this.
The bathroom was only around the corner so Channing threw caution to the wind and dashed inside like a bolt of pale, naked lightning. Getting the crap off of his skin was the easy part, the tangled mass that had once been his hair was another story. Four shampooing and he was already out of hot water before he was certain he had gotten the last of the cum from his blond locks.
He dried off and dressed quickly, all the while trying to keep from looking at himself in the mirror. His jeans seemed to slip on a lot easier for a change and fit a lot more snuggly, a constant reminder of what he was missing. Lastly he threw on a tank top before darting out of the bathroom, his hair a disheveled shock.
His mom was still downstairs and his cold breakfast would be waiting with her. She would see right away that something was wrong with him and Channing didn’t want to have to come up with a lie. The easiest way out was his standby exit, the bedroom window.
The boy was already out on the rooftop before he darted back inside for his backpack and its precious cargo. It was a black sling backpack, the kind that were very popular in town. With backpack and skateboard in hand Channing scurried down the roof, dropped into the hedgerow and set off down the street to the rapid clack-clack of his wheels on the sidewalk.
Making a quick jog across the street Channing scaled the neighbors’ wooden fence and crossed quickly over their backyard. Two more fences and he was on the roadside of 17th street, the main thoroughfare to downtown. He had not gone more than two blocks when a familiar voice called out to him.
“Sup, Chan!"
A gnawing pit developed in the knot that was Channing stomach. It was Avery and the rest of the skaters, the one group he was trying to avoid. He wasn’t evading them because they were bad but simply because he knew exactly what they would want to do should he meet up with them.
Sands voiced that though. "We’re going to the skate park. Bring your board.”
“Yea,” Avery chimed in. “Sands is going to show us a new trick he’s been working on. Some new way to chip your teeth or break your arm!”
Sands only smiled sheepishly at the jibe. While he might have the record for the most injuries gained from skating, the boy wore his scars as badges of honor for risks that no one else had been crazy enough to take.
Channing frowned. The skate park was in the opposite direction he wanted to go but what could he tell them? They didn’t really have any plans. If he said he was going downtown, they’d come with him no matter what his reasons.
“Alright.” He murmured, casting a long glance south down the road. “I don’t have too long before I have to get back. I’m supposed to be doing yard work.”
“No worries. We know all about responsibility!” Sands laughed.
The group steadily made their way up the road, a long column of skateboarders in a single file row, until they came across the park. The city had opted to build the park in hopes that it would remove the danger of having boarders on the sidewalks. Instead it had simply made more skateboards.
The boys dropped off their bags in a pile and set to the task of wasting away the morning hours. Channing gingerly laid his backpack on top of the others swearing to never let it out of his sight before he joined them. The others made for quite a show but Channing’s mind was obviously not in it and he put forth a very distracted demeanor.
The sun was rising high overhead when their congregation was finally broken up.
“Alexander MacKenzie! There you are!” Boom an angry female voice.
All the boys stopped dead in their tracks and looked over in the direction of the roadside. A minivan was parked there with the side window rolled down and an irate looking Mrs. MacKenzie leering out at them. She motioned authoritatively towards her.
“You know you are babysitting your sister this afternoon! Get in the car. I’m running late and we’re all waiting on you, young man.”
Sands flushed slightly at the use of his full name and lowered his head obediently. “Yes, ma'am.” He muttered as he jogged over to pick up his backpack. “Sorry, guys… See ya tomorrow.” Pausing to give a short wave he turned and fled to the waiting vehicle.
“Very responsible of you! Have fun babysitting! Bye, Alexander!” The other’s teased as he went. They couldn’t help but laugh when Sands flipped them off out the car window as the van drove away.
With the loss of Sands the group was effectively done for the day. A few more jokes were made at his expense but one by one the other boys made their excuses, got their things and went their separate ways.
For Channing this had not come a moment too soon. The poor teen was about ready to burst with anticipation and fear. After grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his should he made a b-line straight through downtown, dodging through a couple alleys to make sure the rest of the gang was not following him. The last thing he needed was to try to explain this disaster to them as well as the pawn shop owner.
The front face of the Gaslut Pawn and Emporium was not much better looking than the back. A short placard bore the name of the shop, barred windows and a flickering ‘Open’ sign welcomed customers. The front door was ajar, held open by an old car battery.
Once inside the shop’s image did not improve. Shelves were covered with a wide assortment of items seemingly placed there at random. Two doors at the back of the store were practically hidden behind a wall of unopened boxes. A large floor fan droned loudly though it barely moved any air around the storefront. It all smelt like must and sweat. The source of the majority of the smell must have been Lyov Gaslut himself.
The paunch man sat like an emperor on a throne of wooden crates, watching a flickering television set. He puffed mightily at a cigar clutched between cracked lips and chuckled to himself.
When it was apparent that the Russian had no noticed his entrance Channing took a few tentative steps forward and cleared his throat. “L-Lyov?”
With a start the man glanced up and reached behind himself for the pistol he kept stashed in the pocket of his pants. He paused when he recognized Channing, a wide albeit semi-toothless grin spread across his grizzled features. “Hey, patsan!” Lyov bellowed, his words punctuated by thick clouds of smoke. “Good to see ya. What can I do you for?”
On the way over Channing had been trying to mentally prepare for the scene to follow - anticipating what Lyov would said, how he would respond. Now that the time had come his mind was a total blank and the boy simply stood their dumbfounded, biting his lower lip and trying to avoid Lyov’s eyes.
“Eh?” The man said impatiently. “What, you come for more smokes?”
Channing swallowed hard and just bit the bullet. “I … I stole a box from your back doorstep yesterday. It was just sitting there and I took it. And now I need your help, sir.”
Lyov’s friendly smile dropped, his eyebrows knit together until the thick bushy hairs formed a unibrow. “Popal! You took something from my door?” He asked angrily, the corners of his mouth seeming to draw the whole of his face downward in a scowl. “Why you do this to me, boy? Am I not a nice guy? I give you porn, let you into my shop, we tell jokes. I thought we were friends.”
Channing was so nervous he was shaking like a leaf. He made for an absolutely pathetic sight standing there quailing before the large Russian, his shoulders rounded and his lower lip twitching. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking… I really need to know - what was in it? How do I reverse it?” He asked, tripping over his words.
If Lyov heard the last part he did not react. Instead he seemed determined not to help, muttering something darkly in Russian before motioning Channing towards the door. “Vsyo govno, krome mochee… Get out.”
“Lyov? Please. Whatever was in the box, it did something to me and you’re the only one who can help me out. I’ll try hard to make it up to you - I’ll clean your shop, I’ll cover the front desk, I’ll work for free.” Channing was desperate; he didn’t know what else to do. Lyov was his one shot at figuring this out. Pleadingly he fell down on his knees at the man’s side.
The man paused for a long moment staring down at the youth’s watery eyes and scratching at his stubbly beard. Channing looked panicked and on the verge of tears, his cheeks already puffy and red.
“Blin!” He exclaimed, throwing up his hands and lumbering away a few steps. “How the hell can I help? I get boxes all of the time here. If you got fucked up by things you steal then you got what you deserved.”
“Please, Lyov. The instructions were in Russian, I didn’t know what it was or anything…”
“Russian? What was it? You have the box?”
“Yes,” Channing responded eagerly. He fumbled to remove his backpack, dropping his skateboard in the process. “It’s right here.”
Channing had been churning that thought over and over in his mind, hoping that this moment could somehow be avoided. Maybe the instructions would be all Lyov would need to solve the problem; anything to evade exposing his severed privates to that crude man.
He opened the bag and immediately knew something was wrong - the box and the pillowcase were nowhere to be seen. Channing’s eyes widened with fear as he tore through the bag’s contents, pulling out folders and school books in horror.
His cock was gone!
“You lose something or is this all bullshit?” Lyov grumbled in his gravelly voice, leaning over Channing to peer into the bag.
Had he not been so distraught Channing probably would have made a comment about what he really had lost! As it was the boy was in tears as his panic-maddened mind tried to reason this out.
When had he taken his eyes off of the bag? He had set it down with the guys’ bags at the skatepark and only for a few minutes. But the others had been with him the whole time and no one else had been around!
Channing was about ready to despair when he noticed the textbooks in the bag. The boy snatched up one of the loose pieces of homework and read the name across the top, 'Sandy MacKenzie.’ It was Sands’ bag! They had this problem all the time because the two boys shared the same style of backpack.
“Oh fuck.” Channing gasped.
“What? Is school work. I help you hide bodies but I will not do your homework.” The man seemed to soften a bit. “This is a joke, right?” Lyov asked. He tapped the fallen skateboard with his foot, sending it rolling a few feet across the room.
The skateboard was not given a chance to slow before Channing had picked it up and was hastening out the door, a trail of loose paper fluttering in the wind behind him. “I’ll be back, Lyov!” He cried as he raced for the nearest bus stop.
Lucky for Channing the bus was just pulling up to the stop as he arrived. Breaking into a sprint the teen barely made it on board before the vehicle lurched away. The lunch hour rush must have already started because the seats were full and there was standing room only. The boy made his way back until there was nowhere left to go and took hold of one of the grasp bars.
They had not travelled but a few blocks when Channing became aware of an odd, displaced sensation. Like he was adjusting himself through his clothes, though in his present circumstance that scenario was impossible.
His face darkened instantly, shifting from a bashful pink to an ashamed crimson. Someone had found his disembodied privates! Channing had never even imagined such a level of humiliation existed. Some stranger was examining his most private of places and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He could feel the touch of foreign hands against his skin turning them this way and that like a chunk of meat.
The boy choked down a whimper as a finger stroked the underside of his crown sending a ripple of pleasure through to the core of his being. Channing found himself biting down sharply on one of his fingers nervously. The mysterious hands rubbed against the tip of his cock where a stream of precum had undoubtedly started forming from the attention. Quivering with the magnified sensation Channing tried to keep from doubling over.
Was it Sandy? His parents? His little sister? What if Sandy didn’t have his backpack after all? What if some random person had stolen has bag?
A slight rap against his testicles had Channing standing upright again. Then another and another. The teen was biting his lip to keep from crying out as his balls were bounced in someone’s hand. In short order they were bounced, compressed, squeezed and flicked at. Each assault, though obviously investigative, brought more sweat to Channing’s brow and a muffled mewl to his lips.
Yes, they’re real, he thought. Now leave them alone!
Channing half expected them to slap his balls just to complete the abuse. He cringed in apprehension but the blow never came. The anticipation was driving the fair haired teen in quite the frantic state. It was worse than wearing a blindfold. Anything was possible and his captor would not even know they were hurting him.
Apparently his ordeal was far from over for several minutes later, as the bus rounded the corner onto 17th street something slick and oily was rubbed into his skin. Shortly thereafter he was overwhelmed by what he could only describe as his cock passing through a warm, tightly clenched fist. It was intense, enveloping and incredibly arousing. Not knowing what was going on made it all the worse.
The youth was so taken by surprise that he gasped out loud, drawing inquisitive glances from the passengers that surrounded him inches away on practically every side.
First it slid slowly forwards before being eased back and then forward again. Each stroke caused his member to throb this way and that, hungry for more. In his terrified state every sensation was that much more extreme. He had never felt anything like this before, not even after the night he had spent with his severed cock and balls. Channing’s legs trembled and he found himself clinging white-knuckled to the grasp bar as though he were no longer able to support his own weight.
Another thrust, deeper this time, and the boy found he could no longer hold back the moans forming deep in his lungs. Through quivering lips he panted as the pleasure mounted.
Fuck, he thought. I’m going to come in front of all of these people.
Channing had never felt more helpless in all of his life. His body was beyond his control and he could not stop the climax that he knew was coming. The boy drew a shuddering sob and tried to brace himself.
The few earlier, hesitant advances had now given way to a smooth, rhythmic alternating. Channing was quickly covered in a blanket of sweat as his body went into sexual overdrive. Tossing his blond hair out of his face, the boy tried to bury his face in his shoulder, hoping to muffle his cries.
By now everyone nearby was casting curious glances in his direction. Between the boy’s moans and his persistent quaking he had caught many of their attentions. Some people appeared worried, others annoyed but they were all watching - oblivious to the fact that they were witnessing a sexual act.
Channing could feel the pressure building within him. It was only a matter of time before-
“Oh god!” he gasped, his face distorting into a mixture of pleasure and total shame. The boy doubled over, his knees locked tightly together and grasped wildly at his crotch in a vain attempt to quell his orgasms.
He could feel his balls draw up into their sack as a prelude for what was to come. His first spurt was followed in quick succession by six more, each one quick and wild as his cock bucked wildly in the hands of his mysterious assailant. Having lost what little control he had, Channing found himself whimpering and moaning with each spurt, a slew of profanities dripping from his lips in between.
Moments later he was still breathing deeply when he felt a hand on his shoulder “Are you alright?” Channing opened his eyes. He was on the floor of the bus; a lady seated on the nearby row was looking down on him with concern in her eyes.
If the floor of the bus could have vanished and Channing fallen through to be hit by oncoming traffic he would have wished that right now. Tears had actually formed at the corners of his eyes he was so embarrassed. He felt violated and used and monstrously humiliated.
Staggering back up to his feet Channing could only smile weakly at the crowd, his face still red with awkward chagrin. His hair was damp with perspiration and hung over his features in stringy strands. “Fainting spells.” His voice cracked as he lied. “I … I’ve had then since I was a kid.”
There were low voices a few rows back followed by mocking laughter. Channing could only look longingly out the window and hope Sands house was not much farther. His face was a picture of abject misery.
When Channing finally got off the bus he had managed to gather himself together somewhat. Whoever had his cock had lost interest in it for now, giving the boy time to think his bitter thoughts. He wanted revenge - he wasn’t some toy to be humiliated in a spectacle like that. So what if they didn’t know what they were doing? Channing still wanted to rip them a new one, whoever they were. Even if it really was Sands.
Still fuming when he arrived at the other youth’s house, Channing gave the door a loud knocking. Sands’ sister, Fiona, opened the door. She giggled slightly at seeing him and tossed her hair over her shoulder in a teasing way. “Hi, Channing.” The girl cooed at him. “Been running?”
“Something like that. Is … is Sands here?” Channing asked, his face still flushed. His faltering thighs were wobbly both with afterglow and nerves. He could not even begin to imagine how he was going to explain this to Sands of all people.
“Sure thing! Lemme get him.” She replied before turning and shouting, “SANDY, CHANCHAN’S HERE TO SEE YOU!” Fiona smiled impishly at some inside joke.
There was a commotion upstairs and, after what seemed like an eternity, Sandy’s rapid footfalls could be heard on the stairs. Channing could not even bring himself to look up at the approaching youth out of shame.
He knew this was going to be one of worst moments of his life.