Queerwig - Blackthorn College for Boys

Blackthorn College for Boys

I was in a panic as I ran across the quad from the dorms to the student services building. I had slept late on my first morning at Blackthorn College, only having arrived the night before and had missed the welcoming lecture completely.

All my life, my mother had told me my young father's dream was that I follow in his footsteps and attend Blackthorn. My mother had shown me his last letter to her while she sat at home, young, pregnant with me, and alone. His words; 'This experience is a dream, dear girl. When I return we'll be married and if our child is a boy I want him to come here when he's old enough.' and; 'I have learned more about myself than I ever knew. I have felt things here that I had never dreamed were possible.'

That letter was the last contact we'd had with the man who'd planted his seed in my mother when they were both teens, and I had lived my life with the singular goal of being a Blackthorn student like my father. And there I was, risking it all by being late my first day.

When I arrived at the student services building I followed the signs to the hallway of student advisor offices and saw a dozen other boys my age sitting on long benches outside the office doors. I saw that Simon—my dorm mate who I barely had time to say hello to as he fell asleep. He was sitting nervously near the end of one of the benches. I sat down beside him.

"I missed the welcoming lecture." I whispered to him, respecting the quiet in the building.

He just grunted.

"Did I miss much?"

Simon didn't answer, just blushed and looked down at his knees. He seemed too nervous for small talk, so as we waited I tried to hear what the other boys were saying, speaking in quiet nervous tones. I heard; "doesn't hurt", "like being high", "hypothalamus", and a word I didn't think I heard properly - "queerwig". Then I heard part of a conversation fairly clearly ...

"... my brother took his three years ago ..."

"... mine too ... best thing he ever did ..."

"... mine was never the same ..."

Just then the office door nearest us opened and a boy exited and quickly made his way down the hallway past us. His clothes were disheveled, his face flushed, hair mussed and plastered to his forehead with sweat. He was holding his shirt closed with both hands. He didn't look any of us in the eyes and I got the feeling he was ashamed of what happened in the office. As he passed me I saw the crotch of his navy blue slacks was wet and he smelled of sweat and piss and cum.

A few moments later, a well-dressed professor came out of the same door and called for Simon, "You're up." he said and ushered Simon into the office and closed the door - I heard him introduce himself as Professor Gaap. We all sat in silence, the others no doubt wondering what happened to the shamed boy who'd made his way out before Simon went in. As we sat I could hear the faint sounds of a boy moaning coming from an office down the hall, then the distant sounds of another gagging and heaving, and in between retches I swear I heard him gasp; "... more, oh god, please more ...".

Closer to me, muffled by the closed door, I heard a sharp slap, then another, then Simon's quavering moan. I was wondering if Simon had broken a rule and was being disciplined when the door next to Simon's opened and a professor helped a boy leave on wobbly legs, supporting him by holding one upper arm and telling him to come back when he needed to. The boy's eyes were drooping and he was staggering like he was drunk. The boy's untucked shirt was buttoned up wrong, the tails at different lengths. I saw that his cock was erect and tenting the zipper line of his slacks to his belt buckle, and a wet stain darkened his slacks all the way down his inner thighs to his knees.

What was happening to boys in those offices?

The professor turned and looked at me; "Matthew, please come in." It was Professor Alastor—he was young and fit and I don't know why, but his genuine smile and resonant voice sent a shiver up my spine. It was an odd reaction for me to have, because I had never had thoughts of a homosexual nature, and though I was still a virgin, I liked girls a lot. I rose on legs that still felt weak and let him usher me into his office.

"You missed the welcoming lecture." he said.

"Yes." I admitted, looking around his finely appointed office.

Then he laid a strong hand on my shoulder and squeezed as he moved me gently to the centre of his office. His hand was warm and his firm grip sent tingles down my back. I could hear the spanking sounds from the next office grow louder as did Simon's moaning.

"We like clean boys at Blackthorn." he said, then; "Just stand here with your back to me."

As I stood still, he wrapped his arms around my chest from behind and held me—it was slow and kind, almost tender as he pulled me against his firm body.

"I need you to relax, Matthew. What I'm about to do will feel odd, but there won't be any pain." he said, and I couldn't help but feel nervous as he leaned in close. I could feel his warm breath on my right ear and was surprised when brought his lips to my ear and kissed me there. But it was more than a kiss; something slithered swiftly from his lips into my ear hole and scurried deep—it was a small insect. I cried out as it tickled, delving deeper toward my eardrum. Professor Alastor held me firmly.

"Shhh." he whispered, "It's okay. You'll be okay. It's only unpleasant at first, then you will begin to feel good. You'll feel better than you've ever felt."

The insect was tickling deep inside my ear and I could hear its legs scratching at my eardrum, then suddenly it wriggled under it and was inside my skull. I whimpered, feeling nauseous, dizzy, and found my legs losing the rest of their strength. Professor Alastor held me upright.

"It's okay, Matthew. You're almost there." he whispered in my ear, "Just relax and let it happen."

I felt disoriented as the tickling moved deeper inside my skull—the insect was burrowing into my brain, making for its core. Flashes of random memories lit up inside my mind; memories of growing up, my mother and I alone, her telling me I looked so much like my father, her and I laughing, her holding me as I cried. Then I felt my cheeks flush, and a strange sensual feeling spread across my lower belly. It grew stronger as though a warm, thick liquid was expanding in the cradle of my pelvis. I felt my cock stir and start to swell and all the remaining strength left my trembling legs and Professor Alastor took all my weight and held me upright.

"That's it, Matthew. It's where it needs to be." he whispered in my ear.

It seemed impossible, but I felt a rapid rise to arousal flush through my lower belly and I pissed myself and moaned like a girl.

"That's a good boy." Professor Alastor whispered.

"... queerwig ..." I murmured, remembering what I heard in the hallway. He'd put a insect inside my brain—my hypothalamus to be precise and it was triggering my growing sexual arousal.

"Yes, that's what the boys call it. It's creating all the wonderful feelings you're having." Professor Alastor said, "It's inside you now where it will live there until you leave Blackthorn."

"... feels so good ..." I said breathlessly. And it did.

"You really are a sweet boy." he said as some strength returned to my legs, "It's going to feel better and better."

I felt like I was in a sensual dream as Professor Alastor turned me, steadying me and stripping off my tie and shirt, then laid me back onto his desk, lifting my legs and slipping off my shoes, socks, slacks, and underwear. My arousal grew and distorted the world like a fever dream.

I lay back and delighted as I watched Professor Alastor stripping off his own clothes and moving between my open thighs as he leaned over me.

I like girls and had never had any homosexual urges or thoughts, but as Professor Alastor stroked the tender skin between my anus and scrotum and leaned over me, I wanted him. I wanted to taste him. Kiss him. I wanted him inside of me. The feelings of arousal were growing stronger and with it an undeniable hunger; my belly was hungry for him. I wanted this man to fuck me deep.

For the next few moments I started to believe I had fainted and was dreaming it all. The arousal I was feeling was tenfold what I'd ever felt before, and I was hallucinating—or so I thought—because sprouting from each side of Professor Alastor's forehead were small white horns and when he sucked my nipples the rippling of pre-orgasmic bliss washed through my body so strongly that I felt like crying. I lay my head back and the room swam around me in a sensual ballet that felt warm and safe and so arousing.

Professor Alastor was talking to me in a deep, hypnotic voice, urging me to surrender completely, to sink into the pleasure I was feeling as I heard Simon's muffled moans and a heavy belt slapping his bum from next door.

Soon I found myself belly down on the desk and Professor Alastor behind me, parting my pale bum cheeks and licking at my anus. I felt it loosen and open and felt his tongue slide in, wriggling and squirming inside me, slithering deeper than any human tongue possibly could.

I could still hear him speaking to me in deep sensual tones but that was impossible while he was eating my ass. It was then I realized that this wasn't a dream—the horns on his head were real, his tongue was like a sinewy serpent that was exploring my bowels deep inside my belly. His voice was only inside my head, and suddenly I knew; Professor Alastor was not human nor part of the natural world. He was from a mystical place just like the queerwig inside my brain and I could sense both were feeding off the pleasure they were bringing me.

I didn't care—it was perverse and depraved and god help me, I didn't care—I wanted more.

As I rode the edge of orgasm I felt his tongue slither out of me and his strong hands turned me onto my back, and I saw that his cock was long and thick and rigid and I wanted it in my belly more than I'd wanted anything before in my life. I wanted this man—this creature—who I just met to fuck me hard and deep.

With the erotic sounds of Simon moaning as he was spanked in the next office in counterpoint to my own feminine whimpers, I lay back on his desk and lifted my knees high, opening my thighs so he could take me.

Professor Alastor was gentle and slow as he penetrated me with his thick cock and I didn't feel the pain I anticipated in my virgin anus and rectum as I was taken for the first time. Instead I felt a rush of orgasmic pleasure ripple through my bowels and stomach up into my throat.

Then he began to fuck me, slowly at first then faster, and ten strokes in I had my first orgasm as he grasped my thighs and slammed into me hard. But I was in for more surprises and more ecstasy.

Professor Alastor thrust inside me and the waves of orgasmic pleasure didn't stop. I cried out and whimpered and gasped as he fucked me hard and fast, his hips slapping loudly against my open thighs, the rhythmic impacts of his cock sending shockwaves through my core.

I felt his cock swelling larger, stretching my anus more and felt him cum inside me, but it wasn't a quick spurting of milky cum—his was a gush of thick fluid that bloated my bowels as he kept thrusting and filling me. His cum was hot and sticky and I could feel it clinging to the walls of my rectum and sigmoid colon. When he finished cumming he kept thrusting, hammering his cock into my body, and I felt my body absorbing his semen like a drug, it saturated my bowels and found its way into my bloodstream and my orgasms intensified, leaving me slick with sweat, breathless, and instantly addicted. I never wanted him to stop.

Professor Alastor moved my body like a doll, fucking me doggy style as he gripped my hips in his strong hands, pounding me so hard that I knew if I'd eaten breakfast that morning I'd be vomiting it up as the shockwaves slammed inside me. I never thought it possible, but he came inside me again, his steel-hard cock pistoning inside me and pumping his thick hot cum deeper into my bowels and I wanted more ... more ... more ...

In all, Professor Alastor came inside me five times, and each time my bowels bloated more—my lower belly pooching out from the hot aphrodisiac of his semen—and my continuous orgasms pulsing harder inside my belly with each gush in my bowels.

When he came the last time he slowed and stopped, then gently pulled himself out of me, leaving my anus open and gaped, his thick cum flowing from me, globs of it plopping on his office carpet.

The room was spinning and I felt my own cock twitching and throbbing at its root as orgasmic spasms tried to pump cum out of my own body that had long been depleted during my previous ejaculations. I was savouring those dry orgasms as I listened to Simon crying out and gagging as he took his sexual punishment.

I wondered if the boys waiting in the hallway had heard me. I felt a rush of shame, yet an underlying thrill that they had and would soon know why.

Time blurred then. Professor Alastor helped me dress, and guided me out the door, promising I could come back whenever I needed to anytime, night or day. I recall staggering down the hallway, past wide-eyed boys who looked at me with the same horror that I'd looked at that first boy.

I must have been a mess.

My memory of staggering back to my dorm room is a blur; I recall passing older boys, clean in their school uniforms, smiling and laughing at the state I was in, making jokes about losing my cherry.

Back in my dorm room I fell face down onto my bed, my cock still hard, pinned beneath me as I passed out from sexual exhaustion.

I came half awake hours later, the lowering sun slanting through the window, my messed slacks and underwear being pulled off and Simon mounting me. What should have repulsed me didn't, I liked being fucked like that—raped really, and though it wasn't near what Professor Alastor did, it felt good all the same as he pressed his cock against my wet anus.

It made me feel feminine when his cock slid deep inside me.

I loved his larger, athletic body pinning me to the bed, his strong hands gripping my neck to push my face against the pillow as I took his long hard cock. It was not as long as Professor Alastor's but reached deep inside me, grinding my prostate, feeling so good that I pressed my bum up against him to take him as deep as I could. I came twice before he roared and gushed inside me, thrusting so hard it made me grunt. I let myself fall back asleep when he pulled out of me.

I awoke to Simon sprawled in his own bed, his cock still rigid, moaning in his sleep, the room dim around us. I could hear other boys in our dorm moaning and crying out as they fucked—for all of us it was our first night with a queerwig snug in our brains and we couldn't resist.

I rose and found a pair of my pyjama bottoms, my soap, and towel and hit the shower to wash the sex stink from my body. After I dried off and slipped on my pyjama bottoms I sat on the edge of my bed, staring at Simon's hard cock and thought about what had happened to me.

I found new meaning in my father's wish that I attend Blackthorn—he didn't want me to advance my learning there, he wanted to share the bliss of being used by the creatures that masqueraded as professors and by the other boys. I wondered what had become of him. But those thoughts were difficult to follow as I hung my head and looked down at myself—my cock rigid like Simon's and the root aching for release once more. I could feel the warmth of my loose anus and rectum, and that hunger deep in my belly still begged to be filled once more.

Rising and letting my pyjama bottoms slip down my trembling legs, I crawled into Simon's bed and rolled onto my belly, my quivering hard cock pinned under me.

I whispered "fuck me again" as Simon rose and climbed between my open, welcoming thighs.

I had truly arrived on the path of my destiny.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Hl2gN-M4ihdx6N4a1HggP0L2Hz_MeXym/view?usp=sharing