Date: Fri, 19 Jun 2020 19:44:34 -0700 From: Jason Ford Subject: The Deal, Ch. 13 The Deal By James Forbes Chapter 13 – The Grocery Store This is a 19-chapter series of (partly) fiction created for the entertainment of interested adults, partly based on my experiences as a youth. Please read no further if you are underage, if this is illegal in your area, or if you are offended by explicit sexual stories. Names and locations have been changed. This would have taken place in the pre-AIDS era. The main focus is on physical and psychological domination, submission, various punishments and kink. If you enjoy this kind of story, please show your appreciation by making a donation to Nifty Archives. Go to: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. And if you need a good sub in the San Diego area, or have comments on the story, contact me at jasbike1@gmail.com. In the week after my horrific circumcision surgery, I could barely touch my dick, even to pee. Each day it got a bit better. The pain was gone, but it was still really tender. Even the slightest touch brought a hard on, although not the 7" hard on I once had. It was reduced to a completely hairless, barely 4". I tried not to think of Scott, or what he might have in mind for the near future, but my mind wandered to it, especially when I was trying to sleep. One night I had a wild dream about Scott, and woke up with cum all over my underwear. But maybe after everything he'd put me through, he was done with me. I had gotten so any time our phone rang, I jumped like I was being electrocuted. When it rang during breakfast, a week after the surgery, I spilled milk out of my cereal bowl. "What is wrong with you?" my mom asked. "Are you going to answer the phone or what?" I picked up the phone, hesitatingly. "Eight rings," came Scott's voice. My heart seemed to drain of blood. "Be quicker next time. Put on the tank top and shorts I left in your room, and meet me outside in 15 minutes." Before I could ask what clothes he was talking about, he'd hung up. I went into my room, and sure enough, under my bed, was a small tank top and tiny, sheer shorts that barely covered my crotch. I struggled to put them on, as they were clearly for a boy much younger than my 16 years. As I practically ran through the living room, my mom peeked out from the kitchen. "Where are you going? And why are you dressed like that. It's a little, uh, revealing, don't you think?" I turned crimson. "Oh, hi mom." Hi mom? Why did I say that? "Scott called and wanted me to run an errand with him." I ignored the comment about the clothing and left, barely making it out in time. "One minute to spare, Prisoner," Scott began. "Cutting it a little close. Like the outfit? I snuck it in there last night while you slept. You're lucky that's all I did. The tank top and shorts were mine when I was a little kid, like 11 years old. Since that's how your body looks now, I figured you should wear them. But wait: Do you have underwear on?" "Um, yes, I didn't know if—" "Go behind that car and take them off, right now, then put the shorts back on." The shorts were so thin, anyone could see my dick and balls if they gave them more than a glance. But knowing what Scott was capable of, and threatened to do, I quickly complied. The shorts had no pockets of any kind. I handed my underwear to Scott, who put them in a backpack. "Did you bring some cash?" he asked. "$20," I stuttered. "Alright, let's go. You walk in front of me. We're headed a few blocks to the grocery store." As I walked, I could feel Scott's eyes on my ass and smooth legs. It was a hot day, and by the time we got to the store, I was sweating profusely, partly out of panic. Maybe he just wanted me to be embarrassed at the store and pay for some snacks for him. "Grab a basket," Scott ordered. We walked up and down each aisle, and occasionally Scott would stop and look at something. Several times, he made me reach up for something on the top shelf, usually when someone walked by, and twice someone did a double take at my hairless pits. Scott was obviously showing me off in public for the first time. In the hygiene aisle, he threw some hand lotion in the basket—the kind that had a flip top. I thought that was all we were buying, when he stopped. "Let's go to the vegetable aisle." Scott began by grabbing a bunch of carrots that were in a plastic bag, then some bananas, then a large zucchini. I didn't think anything of it until he stopped in front of some huge gourds of some kind. There were green and yellow ones that were about 10 inches across at the base, and at least four inches in diameter at the top. "It says `butternut squash.' Have you ever tried one?" he asked. "Um, no, I haven't ever eaten one," I replied. "That's not what I asked. I asked if you'd tried one." Confused, I stammered, "Nu-no, I haven't tried one." "Well it's always fun to try something new," he said. I didn't quite know what he was getting at, but I knew this couldn't be good. As we started to the checkout stands, Scott stopped, and pointed to the restroom. "Go in there, lean over the toilet, and drop your shorts." My adrenalin surged with fright. I considered simply running out of the store, but I knew Scott could sneak into my room at any time, day or night, and do whatever he wanted. So I gave him the hand basket and went in. I expected he would be right behind me, but I was all alone. I dropped my shorts and waited. It was several minutes, not knowing if Scott was coming in, someone else, or if he'd left the store as some sort of horrible joke. Finally, the door opened, briefly exposing my ass to the whole store. Luckily, it was Scott. He locked the door and began rummaging through the hand basket. I suddenly felt something cold in my asshole. It had to be the hand lotion he'd bought. He squirted several globs inside me, unzipped his jeans, and unceremoniously jammed his cock inside me. Each thrust slammed to the hilt up my hole, then he'd almost pull out, and slam it in again. I heard him grunt as he came inside me, and his breathing slowed. As Scott pulled out, he instructed, "Keep that load inside you until you get home. And to make sure..." he grabbed one of the carrots out of the bag, forced the wide end into me, then broke it off with just an inch sticking out. "There—that ought to do it. Let's go." I practically waddled to the checkout stand. I knew I was being paranoid, but it seemed like everyone in the store knew what was going on, and that I had a carrot up my cum-filled ass. The checker guy looked quizzically at the items he rang up, and listed them out loud, only adding to my humiliation. "Let's see: carrots, bananas, zucchini, squash, and hand lotion. That will be $12." I threw my $20 bill down and told him to keep the change as I started to scurry out. "But son," he said, "Those carrots have been opened. You should get a fresh bag." "I'm fine, it's OK," I blurted out. Scott intervened. "He's right, James. Go get a new bag. I'll wait." Oh god. So while everyone in line stared at me, I went as fast as I could and got a new bag of carrots. By the time I got back, I was as red as a tomato. We finally left the store. Walking home was agonizing with that carrot inside me. My insides churned. I started to go inside the house with the grocery bag, but Scott stopped me. "Wait. First, go into the toolshed. Drop your pants again, and wait." Fuck. What now? The shed was alongside my mom's house. I took my shorts off and waited again, which was the scariest part of our encounters, not knowing if or when he'd come in, let alone what he'd do to me. Scott finally opened the shed door and came in. He spread my ass cheeks to examine my predicament. "You can take it out now, but you can't use your hands. Just push it out with your ass." It took some doing, and I felt like was taking a shit right in front of Scott, but slowly the carrot began to slip from my ass. Then it fell onto the shed floor. What a relief. I reached for my shorts, but Scott grabbed me, bent me over, and slammed his dick into me again, the second time in less than an hour. This time was slower, and it took him a long time to get close to climax. Once I started to slip my hand to my tender dick, and he slapped my hand away. At last he pulled out, turned me around to face him, and came all over my smooth dick and balls. He pulled up my shorts and picked up the grocery bag. "Tomorrow, 9 a.m., the clearing in the woods. Wear jeans, a jockstrap, and the tank top." Off he went, leaving me with his splooge all over my front, and dribbling out of my ass, soaking the shorts he wore as a kid. I managed to get into the house without my mom seeing me, and quickly changed, putting the outfit back under my bed.