Fuckboy Billy Ch. 03

Note: This story contains BDSM themes. It was edited by TuckerMcCallahan; thank you for your work! Comments are always appreciated!

*****

"You may be a complete fuck-up, but you did do a decent job with all this," Master Xen said, gesturing towards Bill's muscular body.

Billy couldn't help but beam with pride. He was still naked, standing in his Master's living room. His butt was still sore, and certain movements made him flinch. But he was willing to endure some pain for his Master. Besides, he had brought it on himself, after all.

"But pretty much every other aspect of you needs improving," Xen continued. "We will start today with some surface corrections."

Billy didn't really know what that meant, but he nodded.

"I sure as hell won't let you out wearing those greasy rags in which you arrived yesterday. In fact, I'm gonna toss them, and we'll start from scratch."

Billy kept nodding.

"For today, you can wear some of my old things," Xen finished. A mischievous note in his Master's voice made Billy perk up, but he wasn't quite able to guess where all this was going.

Xen opened an inconspicuous door, which Billy hadn't noticed before, revealing a steep flight of stairs leading down to the basement. The two men descended. The stairs led to an ordinary cellar which contained a washing machine, a boiler, and some storage boxes on a large shelf. Two doors, painted blood red, were marked "Studio Α" and "Studio Ω".

The door to "Studio Α" was ajar, and Billy dared to take a peek inside. A large roll of white paper hung from the wall and several hot lights were mounted on stands; it was a photographer's studio. Bill had posed in studios just like that a couple of times.

The door to "Studio Ω" was closed.

"Don't dally!" Xen said, with no particular force. Billy turned to see that his Master had taken two items of clothing out of one of the boxes. One was a grey cotton ribbed tank top, with narrow straps and an equally narrow back. And the other was... a tiny, tiny, tiny speedo. In the most vibrant, attention grabbing, fire-hydrant red that had ever existed.

"I think this should fit you." Xen didn't even attempt to hide his wolfish grin.

"I don't... Yes, Sir!" Bill stuttered, biting down a protest just in time.

Billy struggled into the clothes. The top was fine, if a little revealing. The speedo on the other hand...

First of all, the back of it wasn't quite a string, but it came damn close. In other words, there was a lot of ass hanging out. Ass that was, at this moment, red and purple going black and blue.

And then, there was the front. The peculiar cut of the pouch left barely any space; which meant that the spandex left nothing to the imagination. Or, in the case of less-than-average Billy, everybody could see just how little he was working with. As if that wasn't embarrassing enough, a seam ran right down the center front. The speedo basically gave Bill a meaty camel toe. It was all very uncomfortable, in more than one way.

"Come on, it's summer. Lots of folks parade around in their bathing suits," teased Xen. Not bathing suits like this, thought Billy, but he kept his mouth shut. He was determined to be a good boy, goddammit!

***

Xen and Billy took the route through the private parking garage that belonged to the residential complex in which Xen lived. Several fancy cars were parked in the generous space.

"These are my two bad boys," said Xen, pointing at an impressive pick-up truck and an even more impressive muscle car. Both vehicles were true beauties, gleaming and well cared for. It wasn't until Xen started laughing that Billy realized he had been staring with an open mouth, literally drooling like a dog at a meat market.

"But let's do something for the environment today. Let's take public transport," Xen proclaimed, still laughing, and walked out the garage.

At first, Billy was disappointed; he was itching to take either of those beauties for a ride. Then disappointment swiftly gave way to sheer terror, as Xen's real reason for taking public transport dawned on him.

Environment, my ass. Xen wanted to put freshly-spanked, camel-toed Billy and his tiny, tiny speedo on display in front of as many people as possible!

They waited together at a nearby bus stop. Xen seemed relaxed, idly reading something on his tablet. Billy just stood there mortified, staring straight ahead, all his "goods" on display, his face nearly as red as his speedo.

They were not alone. Three collage age girls were snickering and giggling like they just saw the most hilarious thing ever; it didn't take much to guess what they were snickering about. One of them took out their phone and started filming. Billy gnashed his teeth and turned an even darker shade of red.

A rugged looking construction worker arrived in muddy shorts, a wife beater, and a hard hat. He took a good, hard stare at Billy; then he lifted his arm to scratch his back, never taking his eyes off the boy, exposing a bushy armpit. A cloud of manly musk wafted in Billy's direction.

This presented another problem. Billy, as he now knew, was one eager cocksucker, and he still hadn't been allowed to climax since all this craziness had started. As he inhaled the worker's intense odor, it took all of his goddamn self-control to not get an erection. Because the speedo hid nothing. Sweat was dripping off Billy's temples from effort and embarrassment, but he succeeded in staying soft. Just barely.

Xen, meanwhile, pretended to not notice anything. But Billy could imagine his smug amusement behind those dark aviators.

Finally the bus arrived. Xen and Billy took a seat next to each other, the worker seated himself right across. Billy crossed his legs in an attempt to get a little coverage.

"That's not how real men sit," remarked Xen. His voice was deceptively casual. "Ever heard of 'man-spreading'? I know a lot of folks are bothered by it, but I actually think it's kind of hot. C'mon, man-spread like a real dude-bro for me."

Yes, Billy knew about "man-spreading"; it had been, in fact, one of many examples of "unprofessional behavior" Ms. Ashe had mentioned when she had fired him.

So Billy mustered all his nerve, and spread his legs wide. His "camel toe," in all its red, puffy, spandex-clad, sweat-stained glory, presented itself to the world at large.

The construction worker's eyebrows went up so far they disappeared underneath his hard hat.

"Good boy," Xen whispered. And there it was: that warm, disarming, irresistible note in his Masters voice. He placed his hand on Billy's thigh. A sense of calm spread from the point where Xen's strong hand touched his skin, spreading throughout his whole body like a most welcome virus. Billy closed his eyes, exhaled, relaxed. His face slowly started not to look like a tomato again.

When Bill opened his eyes again moments later, his posture had changed. He was still man-spreading, but his chin was up, his shoulders down, and his back was upright and unapologetic. Bill took a quick look around, only barely taking in the various passengers, many of whom were staring, whispering, snickering, or not-really-discreetly taking pictures. It didn't bother him anymore. Who were they, anyway? He knew who he was: Master Xen's pup. Here, look at his hand, possessively resting on my thigh, for all the world to see. There was no shame in being owned by such a wonderful, powerful man. No shame whatsoever.

***

Much of the day, Xen and Billy spent going from one boutique to the next, shopping for Billy's new wardrobe. Despite his new found pride in being put on display like an Amsterdam whore, Billy was relieved to find that most of the clothes Xen chose for him were fairly traditional.

Billy had never much cared for fashion, but clothes shopping with Master Xen was fun. He didn't have to make any decisions. He just followed his Master around like a puppy, tried on everything he was told to, and then let himself be inspected.

Xen was an efficient man with excellent taste who knew what he liked and where to find it. Quickly, he assembled a small, tidy wardrobe of casual, sporty, high quality basics for his young ward. Billy was excited; everything Xen picked showed off his buff stature. The jeans hugged his butt in just the right way. The hoodies were soft and comfortable, and hung off his broad shoulders just so. The T-Shirts were comfortable, but just tight enough to show off his pecs and arms. The colors and prints were fresh, never tacky or frivolous.

Billy tried not to think about how all of it came out of Xen's pocket.

They grabbed some Indonesian food for lunch sometime in the afternoon, and then visited a barber shop. Xen instructed the hairdresser to "make my boy a dirty blond." A good hour and some aluminum foil later, Billy looked into the mirror and a young man with sandy blond hair, perfectly playing off his steely blue eyes, looked back at him.

Goddamn, he had never looked this good in his life.

Bill caught Master Xen gawping; the results apparently were even better than he had expected. The boy couldn't help but preen. Xen composed himself instantaneously, a quick "yeah, you got me there" smirk crossing his face. Billy preened some more, knowing he would get away with it this time.

"One last stop," Master Xen said.

They had the new clothes delivered home by a driving service and hailed a cab. Xen showed the driver an address on his phone. The driver nodded, fiddled with his GPS, and started towards the destination.

They left the inner city and drove through an area dominated by tall office structures. Eventually, the buildings started to get lower. They entered a strangely nondescript area consisting of warehouses and light industrial complexes, punctuated by occasional clusters of residential buildings and small businesses.

The men drove in silence, only the car radio warbling in the background. Billy couldn't even guess where they were headed or why. He looked at his Master, but Xen just held his silence. Billy bit down on his questions and decided that it was best to just stop thinking.

The cab stopped. Xen payed, and the two men got out. A sign told Billy that they were standing in front of a "Clinic." Nothing told him what kind of clinic it was or anything else about this place. They entered.

The receptionist, a neat woman in crisp white, greeted Xen with a professional smile. The two had obviously met before.

"Good day, Mr. Xen. Please take a seat, the doctor will be with you in an instant."

She didn't seem to be fazed at all by Billy, who was still wearing that ridiculous speedo; that made Billy suspicious. He followed Xen into the waiting room.

They sat down. The only other person in the room was a middle-aged lady in a sharp pantsuit, busy typing on her phone with one hand while rubbing a German Shepherd behind his ears with the other. The dog only barely took notice of the newcomers; the lady seemingly not at all.

Something was off about this place. It wasn't ill cared for; in fact, the minimalistic furniture seemed to be on the more expensive side, and the whole place was immaculately clean. But the atmosphere was unusually sterile. Not that clinics in general were particularly known for their coziness; but most practitioners at least tried to make their offices a little more friendly with plants, artwork, and magazines. This clinic, on the other hand, seemed to be fetishizing its coldness.

"Mr. Xen, the doctor will see you now!" called the receptionist. Bill followed his Master out the waiting room and through a short hallway.

A woman in a lab coat awaited them as they stepped through the only open door in the corridor. She wore horn-rimmed glasses and her hair was short and stylish. Her name tag only identified her as "Doctor."

"Good day, Mr. Xen, nice to see you. How have you been?"

"Good day, Doctor. I'm doing fine, thank you!"

Master Xen and the doctor engaged in small-talk, but nothing they said gave Billy any indication what this was about.

Finally, the doctor turned towards Billy. "You must be Bill. It's nice to meet you. Let's take a look at you. Please remove your clothes."

Billy only hesitated for a short moment. This woman apparently was someone Master Xen respected. So, following her instructions was the right thing to do, as long as they didn't go against anything Master Xen himself said. Billy took off what little he was wearing.

What followed was a thorough general examination, "Say Aahhh!" and all. The doctor listened with her stethoscope, took spit and blood samples, made him stand on a scale, scribbled some notes on her clipboard. Xen just stood by, watching.

"Spread your legs, please. Bend over." The doctor took out a glass thermometer, its old-fashioned design at odds with the modern crispness of the clinic. She moved behind him; Billy let out a yelp as her latex-gloved finger touched his anus.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you," the doctor said, as if speaking to a scared animal. Her finger started gently massaging his sphincter, careful not to touch the bruises on his ass-cheeks. Billy closed his eyes and managed to unclench. The cold glass instrument touched his anus, and then slowly entered. He could feel the cold test prod slowly taking on his body temperature.

Billy was fully erect and oozing by the time the doctor pulled out the thermometer again. Then she actually whipped out a ruler and measured Billy's cock, as if that was the most normal thing for a doctor to do. Billy was beyond mortified. She wrote down his size and put the clipboard away.

"All seems to be in order," she concluded. Apparently, according to this doctor, having a bruised ass in all colors of the rainbow was "in order." She addressed Xen:

"So, the usual procedure?"

"Yes please, Doctor," he answered.

"All right. Bill, please climb on that table."

Only when Bill walked towards the exam table at the other end of the room did he notice the two video cameras, mounted on tripods. Had they been recording all this time? Red blinking LED-lights indicated so. This confused him, but he climbed dutifully on the table.

"Please, face that way. Get on all fours," said the doctor.

Billy did as he was told. Meanwhile, the doctor repositioned the cameras. One was now pointing directly at his face, the other straight at his ass.

"Ok, Bill. Now, I need you to lower your chest until it touches the table. Arch your back, raise your behind. Spread your legs a bit."

Billy started to get some doubts. He felt very exposed, in front of cameras, presenting his ass as if he was about to get fucked.

Or neutered.

The realization struck him like thunder, sending a wave of pure panic through Billy's mind. Surely, they wouldn't do that? He started sweating, and suddenly it seemed either very chilly or perhaps way too hot in the room.

He almost cried out when he felt the tip of a marker touch the skin around his testicles. The doctor was drawing lines on his body around his privates and his anus - just like he had seen on TV, before they would cut up a girl to give her implants!

Billy started breathing heavily.

"You OK, boy?" Master Xen asked. Somehow, his voice seemed very far away; Billy almost had trouble hearing him through all the noise in his head.

Was he "OK" with getting his balls chopped off? What a question! This was crazy. Off the charts, completely, utterly crazy! And Bill didn't even know the man! Where was he from? What was his profession, his first name? He was obviously a complete psycho!

There was nothing that was holding Bill there on the table. He could just jump off, run out. He was naked, but who cared? He'd figure it out somehow, find something to cover up with, or call a cab, or something. And he'd just go back home, back to...

... back to...

... back to...

... back to what, exactly?

"You OK, boy?" Xen repeated. Billy felt a hand on his neck. Master Xen's hand.

The warm touch brought vivid memories to Billy's mind, sensations that cut right through his jittery mind. The intense taste of creamy semen in his mouth. The strong musk of his Master's skin. And above all, the sound of his deep, hearty, warm laugh.

That laugh was real, Billy knew with certainty he couldn't explain. There was no deception there, no lie, no malice. No matter how crazy this current situation was... that laugh was more real than anything in his previous life.

And he couldn't go back. Back to that sad, fucked up mess of a life. Back to all the lies he'd been telling himself, without even realizing. He'd rather...

Billy didn't manage to finish that thought.

"Bill, you seem a little pale." It was the doctor's voice. "Would you like us to stop the procedure?"

Billy gulped down the last of his doubts. "Sir, I'm fine, Sir. Thank you for your concern, Sir. Doctor, please proceed," he said, his voice thin and shaky.

"Very well," she said, and started applying a gel. The substance was cool; a numbing agent. Then, Billy heard her handling some equipment behind him. He didn't dare to turn his head to see what exactly it was. He just kept staring straight ahead, into the camera's dark lens.

"This might sting a little," the doctor said. Billy closed his eyes. This was it, then. Sweat was running down his temples, he could barely keep his terror under control. The tension was unbearable.

He felt a sharp prick at the base of his ball-sack, and let out an anguished cry. Adrenaline spiked, and Billy lost control over his mind and body. He climaxed, shooting a fat load all over the exam table.

Then he passed out.

***

A soft darkness surrounded him. Billy blinked his eyes open, disoriented. He was lying on a mattress and covered with a warm duvet. After a few moments, he recognized Master Xen's bedroom, dimly lit by a single candle. It was night. Xen himself was lying next to him, facing the other way.

Billy remembered the clinic, the doctor. He moved his thighs slightly, and felt a mild burning sensation between his legs. Nope, it hadn't been a dream.

The boy couldn't even begin to sort out the various contradicting emotions that started darting around his head; it took him all his willpower not to panic again. He held his breath and slowly reached down.

His penis... was still there. Below, his ball-sack... was still there, if a little sore. Very gently, he felt for his testicles. They, too, were both still in place.

Billy threw off the duvet, not quite ready to believe yet what his fingers told him. But there they were. In the soft light he could see his genitals, unharmed. The skin was slightly irritated and very smooth.

Hair removal. The "procedure" had simply been about lasering his pubic hair off his balls and ass-crack.

Billy felt light-headed; all the terror he'd put himself through now seemed utterly comical. And why the fuck did he have an orgasm when he thought he was about to be fixed? Was there a part of him that... got off on it? A hysterical laugh bubbled up Billy's throat, which he only managed to partly suppress. It came out as an awkward gurgle, followed by a series of hiccups.

Master Xen, meanwhile, observed his ward quietly from his side of the bed. He had woken up, or, more likely, not been asleep to begin with. Billy tried his best to get himself under control again. It took him a while, but he finally managed to empty his head of all the noise. He looked at his Master.

Xen was looking right back at him, his quiet face breathtakingly handsome in the candle light. There was an earnestness in the man's dark eyes that Bill hadn't seen before. When he spoke, his voice was dead-serious.