Date: Thu, 2 Aug 2007 18:40:57 -0600 From: stories@mudcub.com Subject: Homo Depot Punishment Homo Depot Punishment 0 by Mudcub stories@mudcub.com If you lived in Denver, here's what I'd do to you: I'd come over on a Saturday morning. That would give us all weekend to play. I wouldn't knock on your door - I'd just come in. The door would be unlocked, as we agreed. You are naked and kneeling in front of the door, waiting for me, eyes cast downward looking at the floor. Maybe I'd be late, maybe not. Maybe you've been kneeling there for an hour already, sweating, waiting for me and thinking about what I would do to you that weekend. I come in a walk around you. "Inspecting the merchandise". Treating you like a stock animal. Putting my fingers in your hair, in your mouth. Bending you over and checking out your ass. And the whole time not a word is said. I sit down in a chair, and motion for you to come over. I lay you over my lap like a little boy ready for a spanking. Your dick is hard and I trap it between my thighs so it drips pre-cum on the floor. With only a little spit, I work a finger up your asshole, and then two. I'm checking to see if you are dirty like I told you. My fingers come out a little brown, so I wipe them off on your mustache so you can smell your own ass. You are a dirty boy and need to be cleaned up. I slap your ass hard, once. You cry out in pain and almost fall off my lap. I do it again, and again. It's my belief that a boy should have a red ass. Hope you like spankings. Eventually you are a dripping mess, laying over my knees like a wet noodle. That's when I continue to play with your hole, opening you up. When you are ready, burning ass, dripping dick, and a hot hole, I take two Fleet enemas and shove them up there at the same time. With a squeeze, you feel the cool liquid flow into your guts. I keep you on my lap upside down for a few more minutes until the enema coats all of your guts. To be sure, I poke two glycerin suppositories into the stinking mess that's inside your bowels, too. I order you back on your knees, and you see me get a thick padded diaper out of my backpack. I lay it on the floor, and tell you to sit down on it. I tell you what a fucking baby you are, and order you to suck your thumb while I fasten the diaper around your dick and ass. Your hard dick is slightly poking over the top, still leaking cum. The diaper will soak up all that. Then, I secure the diaper all over with duct tape, some of it sticking to your hairy thighs. There's no way this diaper is going to come off today, until I cut it off with a knife. I order you to get into a pair of jeans, dirty sweaty old t-shirt, wool socks and muddy workboots. I tuck your shirt *into* the diaper, so everybody can see the plastic diaper poking over the top. You see. it's because we're going outside for the day. And that enema in your guts is going to start churning and bubbling until you finally shit yourself. But you can't shit yet. there's gonna be a game of it. And here's the game: You have to last an hour from right now. And I'm timing every second on my watch. For every minute that you don't last an hour, you will get a punishment. Maybe it's twenty swats on your ass for every minute - maybe it's a kick to your balls. It's up to you. and already agreed on. Not a real sadistic punishment, but hard enough that I know you are really REALLY gonna try to hold in yer mud until we get home. We get in my truck and I drive you to Home Depot. You are already twitching on the seat. not a good sign. Only ten minutes have elapsed already by the time we get into the parking lot. To be a bastard, I make you sit in the car seat buckled in a little longer, like a little boy in a restraining seat. In the hot un-airconditioned car, this is torture. you are sweating and your asshole is spasming, trying to keep closed. It's a relief when I give the ok for your to open the car door and get out, relieving some of the pressure on your stomach. You are walking a little funny across the parking lot. I wonder if any of the hot construction workers picking up supplies notice. I'm sure they'd notice your diaper if they looked. And they sure will. I've got many things to get at the store, and as we walk down the aisle, I stop and stand for a few minutes. This is agony for you - remaining still. Instead, you dance from foot to foot like a little boy who has to pee. If only the other shoppers knew how true that was. I make you go up to a salesman, and ask where the "absorbency products are". I see him glance down for a second, then answer professionally to direct you to the paper towel aisle. We go over to that section, and I make you bend over to the bottom row, getting hard-to-reach things from the floor. I laugh at you, I know how much this probably hurts. After a few games of this, I tell you to come over. I check your hole using the tried-and-true "dipstick method" that mothers have employed since the beginning of diapers. I shove one finger into the back of your diaper and feel around for shit. You've got a moist twitchy hole, but that's it. You're doing good boy, although only thirty minutes have elapsed and your face is sweating. I know you're not going to hold out for much longer. We walk slowly through the aisles, and I can tell you are having trouble. I tease you by telling you about the bathrooms at the back of the store, and make you wait outside while I go in to take a piss. You see, I can piss like a man, standing up in front of a urinal. You are going to piss yourself like a baby. When I come out, I can see the tension in your eyes. I take you back to the plumbing aisle. It's full of dirty men who work in shit all day. Just like you, boy. I'm looking through some plastic tubing, wondering what they could be turned into (hooked up to a hood? evil grin.) and that's when I smell it. I look at your face and I know what you've just done. You stink boy. And you look guilty, Your guts have just erupted, and I don't need a dipstick test to figure out that this contest is over. And at 1:33. You've got seventeen hard punishment ahead of you boy. And I can see it on your face that you failed me, and that you feel bad. That's ok boy, I tell you. You will be a good boy, after I punish you. I look into your eyes and tell you to empty yourself out. You are surprised by this, but then I see the trust and calm return to your face. You are visibly relieve as you relax all the way. I hug you, wrapping my arms around your neck, and you hug be back - not caring what the remaining guy in the aisle must think. You are shitting yourself in a public place, and the crap flows out standing up, into your diaper. Good thing we used the duct tape. The stink is pretty high now, and I bet the warm mess between your cheeks is getting you hard again. But we're not done shopping. I bet this is the most embarrassing part for you. Everyone in the store we walk by can smell you. But they see your dirty boots and shirt, and maybe they think you work cleanup on a job site. Or maybe they see the diaper and wonder if you are incontinent. Either way, you reek, boy. And when I make you go up to two other salesmen to ask stupid questions, I see their nose wrinkle and they're eager to get away from you. We're picking out hardware for your punishment. I make you walk around carrying some wooden paint stirrers from the paint department. I bet you know what those are for. Nasty-looking metal C-clamps that are going to go on your balls or nipple, I haven't decided yet. And a big plastic tarp for the floor. You look nervous as I pick up other things from the shelves: long spikes, nails, glue, and I joke about things I could do to you with all of it. The hardware store the a great place to get S & M ideas. Eventually, we are ready to check out, and you carry huge handfuls of stuff up to the counter (since you don't get to use a cart). The cashier looks disgusted as he looks you up and down, but I bet he's seen worse. Guys coming in at night covered in shit needed an emergency toilet. Or sewer workers in rubber gear needing masonry supplies. But I bet none stink as bad as you do right now. I bet you can't wait to pay (and oh yeah boy, you ARE paying for all the instruments of your own torture). And we make it back out to my truck with several bags of stuff. In the airless cab, your diaper is making my eyes water. I buckle you in securely, but make you sit in the cab in the summer heat for a few more minutes while I smoke a cigar outside. Sitting in your own filth. Thinking about how all those bags of hardware are going to be used for your punishment. Seventeen times. maybe more if you piss me off. We've got a long weekend ahead of us boy. And as I get back into the cab, I pull my hard dick out. We're going to start with a blowjob. you in a shitty diaper, sucking me off at the Homo Depot.