vore-writer: “And you’re sure they aren’t going to try and fuck me…”
vore-writer: “And you’re sure they aren’t going to try and fuck me…” I trailed off nervously, looking around the prison yard, trying not to make eye contact with the men in the windows looking down.The team captain just smiled patiently, it sounded like he’d explained things a million times. “Of course not. That would be rape, which is what a good number of the convicts are behind bars for.”My brow furrowed. “But isn’t this murde…”“We don’t use that word,” he said, suddenly stern. “Also it’s not. The Overpopulation Act legalises this method of execution for repeat offenders, or those of capital crimes. We are helping the law enforcement of our country.”I nodded numbly, not particularly comfortable with this whole situation. Ahead of us was most of the rest of the team. Twenty plus guys who’d come straight from our last game, sweaty and stinking to fuck, but our physio was always telling us that after a big workout was the best time for a dose of protein. And you didn’t get much bigger doses.About every ten minutes, one or two of our teammates were called through the door ahead of us. Occastional sounds of struggle came through each time the door opened, but a while later they’d come back through another door. Each walking a bit gingerly, with bulging abs which seemed to ripple on those who were topless.As I neared the door myself, my captain once again reminded me of the rules. “Remember, the prison helps fund our team so long as we meet our quota of prisoners. We get a fuck tonne of muscle, and they get to meet their targets. It’s win win.”Ahead of me, I could hear one of my teammate’s stomach rumble loudly and the rest tease him that he’ll be fed soon. I was the only first timer today, the rest had… helped their country, a few times.When my name was called I almost panicked till I was guided forwards by my teammates, them cheering and trying to encourage me. Though the door I was faced with some prison vans on one side, a lot of guards, and one of my teammates pulling his pants up and heading for the exit.“Stand against the wall and assume the position please, we don’t have all day.” A tired-looking goverment offical said, holding a clipboard. “Well, they certainly don’t.”I gulped, but did as I was told. Pulling my pants down to reveal the slabs of my arse and bracing myself against the ironically signed Loading Bay. The one instruction all the team had told me was not to look around until told to get dressed. Whatever we heard, what ever we felt, just power through it untill it was over.I heard a scuffle me, and the temptation to look was killing me. It sounded like someone was being dragged towards me from the vans, and wasn’t going easy.“Matthew Legsworth, 35, male, born in North Carolina,” the clipboard guy read out in the same tired voice. “Imprisoned for petty drug dealing ten years ago, followed by two more short sentences for similar offences after release. Failure on parole and two attempts to escape have resulted in a sentence to temporary imprisonment followed by digestion. Please proceed guards.”The fighting continued, getting closer, the sound of someone shouting through a gag. Don’t think, I told myself. Yes, it’s a petty crime. Yes, I’ve smoked pot too. But the law is the law, and he got caught. Don’t think.I started humming a song under my breath as I felt hair brush against my butt, a nose move up my sweaty crack before it was pushed deeper. The practice I’d had to do was something to focus on as I opened my hole slowly, responding to the pressure and trying not to picture a man’s head entering my rectum.At some point, he must have chewed through the gag, as I heard a gruff, “Please, I’ve got kids!” Before the guards clearly gave him a brutal shove. His head shunted up me in one go, my hole around his neck, and I think the lessening air supply started to deminish his stuggles.Don’t think. Just clench. Don’t think. Just clench.I recited the mantra over and over, trying not to moan at the increasingly full feeling and the painful but oh so sweet stretching as my butt opened up, and eventually closed tighter than any prison bars.As I left some time later, still a little dazed and my prisoner still fighting weakly as he was puleld up to my stomach. I was greeted by my teammates, all with full guts themselves, them cheering and congratulated me as we headed for the pub. Patting my gut, I couldn’t help but think a carreer in the prison service didn’t look that bad after all… -- source link