Twenty Questions

By Skinner

jackass3705@hotmail.com

Copyright 2020 by Skinner, all rights reserved

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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As he strolled idly through the aisles of the deserted grocery store, Tom Martin wondered how long the business would survive. No matter when he visited, he never saw more than two or three other shoppers there, and as much as Tom loved the store - situated walking distance from his office in a largely unoccupied business park - for its friendly owners, extraordinary butcher, and carefully selected products, he feared the reality of produce costs and rent prices would soon overwhelm the young business. There was another reason Tom enjoyed visiting the store. The friendly owners referenced above were a couple in their late 50s, starting a second career after a they sold their small tech start up. From his first time at the store, Tom knew which one of them was in charge of hiring. With a comical consistency, every employee at the store besides the owner’s niece seemed to be a cute guy between 16 and 21 years old. It was actually somewhat jarring for Tom to meet the shop’s youngest employee - he only found out the boy’s age because the owners introduced him to Tom as another relative - as he thought to himself how he was a full decade older than the young cashier. The remainder of the employees were affiliated with the college up the road from the business park (the founding concept behind the ill-fated complex was for companies to attract graduates to work for them with the advantage that they could maintain a connection to their undergraduate social circles). Unfortunately for the developers, despite each others’ presence, neither the park nor the campus were in a particularly interesting part of the state, with the nearest major city over an hour away.

Tom was at the store in the middle of the afternoon because of a gap in his schedule, and he was the only person in sight. He briefly questioned if the store was even open, looking over the vacant checkout kiosks and unattended butcher case. After picking up the least wilted parsley and carrots he could find, along with a bottle of olive oil and some bread crumbs, Tom made his way towards the deli to grab a sandwich for lunch - although he figured he might have to make the damn thing himself judging by the staffing of the rest of the store. Tom was relieved when he saw the telltale mop of hair come into view behind the deli counter - way behind the deli counter in fact, Connor seemed to be seated on something low to the ground, resting his back against the wall behind the deli counter - and happy to see that his favorite employee was apparently the only other person in the store. Walking closer, Tom saw that Connor was absorbed in his smartphone, probably streaming some TV show to pass the time in the desolate market.

As soon as Tom finished that thought, however, something else came into view: Connor was seated on a milk crate, and as he held the phone with his left hand, his right hand was working furiously between his legs. Connor’s mouth opened silently and he suddenly jerked his head back. When he opened his eyes, he immediately met Tom’s gaze. Connor managed only a startled “oh!” as he doubled forward, his phone bouncing on the rubber-grated floor as his hands flew to cover his crotch. Tom was standing at the counter now looking down at the hapless Connor, who bent his head upward to look at Tom with his face frozen in a sheepish wince. “oh god I’m sorry Mr. Martin” he stammered out.

“It’s Tom, dude I’m not that much older than you,” Tom offered, looking down at the pitiful, florid face of the mortified 17-year-old “what were you up to back there?” Connor’s eyes widened slightly, but he said nothing, staring back at Tom dumbly. “Connor, answer me, what were you doing before I walked over here?”

“I” he looked frantically at Tom, hoping the man would use some goddamn deductive reasoning instead of insisting he confess: “I was watching porn on my phone and jerking off” continuing into his explanation uninterrupted “I was literally the only person here and I have been since noon when Janice left and I didn’t even hear you come in there’s supposed to be like a bell or something on the door, and you’re not going to like say anything to Janice, right?”

“Connor, I know you want me to be cool about this, but what if I had been a mom with a young daughter? What if I had been like a 90 year old woman? If you’re gonna do something like this at least post up in front of the security monitors in back so you can stay out of sight and keep an eye on the store,” Tom chided.

“But Tom, seriously, I can’t lose another job. My dad said he’s gonna cut my trust fund payouts in half if I lose another job. He already cut them by five grand a month after I lost my last job!” Connor whined, betraying the exact level of cluelessness this kid had about the economic realities of the broader world around him.

“Look, Connor, I don’t want to rat you out either, but how can I be sure this won’t just happen again some time?” Tom asked, feigning authenticity.

“But I’ll do the thing you said, just go in back, I promise I won’t let it happen again.” Tom pleaded

“I’m just not sure that’s good enough, Connor” Tom said, shaking his head with finality as he started to walk away.

“Wait! Please, there must be some way to make this right.” Connor was begging now, already starting to feel his extravagant lifestyle being dialed back.

Tom stopped with his back still turned to Connor as a grin flashed across his face. He turned to face the boy, now standing at the deli counter, the surface of his apron still deformed by his jutting privates underneath. Tom sighed, following with “I suppose it would be reasonable to offer a punishment as a deterrent for you doing this again in the future. It would have to be something significant enough that I would be comfortable knowing you’d never repeat your mistake.”

Connor hesitated, but only for a moment before he agreed.

“Lock the front, put up the closed sign” Tom said flatly

“But, what if someone wants to come in?” Connor asked genuinely. Tom returned his gaze, his expression unchanging, and after a few seconds Connor assented “fine, you’re right, I’ll lock the front.”

Tom shouted for Connor to join him in the back of the store, and he found Tom seated next to the security monitors across from an empty metal chair. Tom beckoned Connor to sit down with a nod towards the chair and the boy complied. Tom looked over Connor’s familiar form: he was about 6’1” and still had the slender frame of a teenager. His store uniform polo hung loosely about his bony shoulders and the bright red deli apron swallowed the rest of his silhouette in rigid canvas. The lines of his mother’s face had already mostly melted away from his own as a man’s face took shape from his boyish countenance. He had a mess of thick blond hair, which Tom remembers being short about 6 months ago. The boy’s dark eyes looked uncertain as he looked back at the man seated across from him, his eyelids quivering slightly above his faintly freckled cheeks. “We’re going to play 20 questions, well a version of it anyway. I realize that I come in this store all the time, and we frequently talk about my projects at work and plans for the weekend, but I really don’t know much about you. I’m going ask 20 questions about you, and you will answer me truthfully.” Tom explained. “I still want my damn sandwich too. Now I want you to know, this all ends with your package on that panini press while it’s heating up to make my lunch. It’s gonna stay on there for 90 seconds. Every time you fuck up, if that’s talking back, moving your hands off your head without being told, or being a cunt in any other way, shape, or form, then you can add 50 seconds between when you turn that thing on, to when your grill time starts. I trust you have a good idea of how long that thing takes to heat up: so do I - I eat lunch here every damn day, and I know that press takes 10 minutes to reach its blistering operating temperature. How hot does it get anyway? 400 degrees?” Tom asked cruelly, chuckling softly to himself he added “doesn’t matter, your junk doesn’t have a thermometer, it’ll just know what’s too hot and what’s way too hot. Just keep in mind that at 160 degrees, you’ll get a 3rd degree burn in 3 seconds, and since you’re gonna be in the hot seat for 90, I wouldn’t let more than 2 or 3 minutes of delay build up. You already fucked up once, so that’s 50 seconds right there. I recommend you keep track of that time.”

For the first time since Tom first walked in on Connor, the boy looked truly frightened.

“Go ahead and take off your apron,” Tom commanded.

“Uhhh” Connor started nervously,

“Yes.” Tom paused for just a moment and went on “I know what is under said apron.” Connor looked back blankly. After another pause Tom coaxed, “Yes I still want you to take it off.”

Slowly, Connor, looking befuddled, reached back to pull the straps untied. Pausing to look at Tom as if hoping for him to reveal that the whole thing was just a joke, Connor hesitantly reached up to loop the strap around his neck forward over his head, folding the apron forward into his lap.

“You can put the apron on the ground now.” Tom added calmly, smiling at the inevitability of the boy’s exposure.

“Man look I don’t want you to see my dick OK can I just put it back in my pants first?” Connor asked indignantly

“No, Connor, you’re going to keep your penis out this whole time. You don’t have to keep it hard, but at your age, I doubt it’s going down any time soon.” Tom said firmly, “and I’ll remind you that you’re getting dangerously close to another 50 seconds of waiting time.”

With that added motivation, Connor curled in his lips and took in a breath. He moved the apron to the floor and sat back in the chair. His penis was erect and sticking out through the fly of his black jeans. It was about five and a half inches long, Tom guessed, but only looked about 5 inches with some of the base concealed by the stiff denim. Tom was surprised to see that Connor was uncircumcised, the tip of the boy’s wagging erection topped with a quarter inch knob where his foreskin closed tightly over the hidden glans.

“In fact, just because you were being shitty about the apron, you’re gonna be a little more out in the open.” Tom told the boy, standing from his chair. “It may even make that dick look a little bigger” Tom added spitefully, the Connor’s cheeks coloring with shame after Tom struck at one of the teenager’s deepest insecurities. When Connor had just started high school, his friends convinced him to try masturbating in a group with them. As an angst-filled and uncertain 15 year old, Connor was made to lay bare the full capacity of his growing manhood along with the other boys. He saw immediately that he was at the lower end of average. He surveyed the four other sets of bulging teenage packages belonging to his friends and was mortified to see that they all were at least a quarter inch longer than he was, and they were all circumcised. Ever since then he has done whatever he can to keep other guys from seeing his stuff, and was horrified that he would meet a girl who thought he was too small. “Stand up and unfasten your pants,” Tom continued as the boy complied, “OK, now pull your balls out through the fly of your boxers along with your penis.”

Connor gave Tom a worried look and argued “but I don’t think they’re gonna fit.”

Tom started to get irritated as he bent down to look at the boy’s fly. He hooked his finger in the bottom of the fly and yanked down. Connor jumped back in shock at the invasion of having the man’s finger so close to his genitals but held still when Tom glared up at him. Measuring with his fingers, Tom stood up to show the boy how much space there was, “you mean to tell me that a peach fuzzed boy like you is packing three inch eggs down there? I’d like to fucking see it. You’ve earned another 50 seconds and unless you want to earn another 50 and have me force your little stones out myself, you’ll whip ‘em out right now.”

Chastened, Connor bent forward and reached under his boxers with his right hand, his left parting open the small opening in the fabric, pressing up on his shaft to make more room for the fragile orbs. He grimaced as he popped the first one through, and it hung to the left side of the boy’s fly with a tether of wrinkled white skin extending back to the teen’s humid crotch. He grunted audibly as he forced the second one through, pulling at his skin to bring out more of his sack and give his balls more room.

“OK, now fasten your pants again and let’s continue.” Connor’s head shot up and he almost started to say the word “but” when Tom’s silent stare stopped him. He started pulling the top of his pants together, closing the inflexible, zipper-studded fabric around his once private parts. On his first try his left testicle was squished inward by the tightening seam and he let the pants loose again, trying to hold himself forward with one hand and close his pants one-handed with the other. After watching Connor struggle for a few amusing seconds, Tom said, “here, I’ll help you” and reached forward, gathering the teenager’s organs in his hand, encircling them at the root and pulling gently but firmly forward. Connor stumbled a few small steps forward from the force of the pull on his junk, but quickly fastened the button on his jeans and sat down. His penis did appear longer, it’s full 5.5 inches on display with the tension of the denim parting slightly the edges of his foreskin. He was a pitiable sight in all: a thin lad sitting with his package pushed forward out of his jeans on display, his nearly-2-inch balls nestled tightly under his hard shaft.

Tom was excited to start this part of his monologue. “As you know, my work is very high-stakes, and part of the reason my boss is comfortable working with someone as young as I am, is that I have always had a remarkable ability to determine accurately whether or not I’m being lied to. As an example, I’m going to give away the first five questions: each one is the same: ‘tell me something about yourself.’ For one - and exactly one - of these answers you will lie and make something up.” Tom looked at his silent captive “Go.”

Connor’s mind started racing. How could he fool this guy? Was it all a bluff? What are those tricks about looking one direction or another when you’re telling the truth? OK focus, I have to say something: “Um, ok, I was captain of my soccer team in 3rd grade, I went to Phoenix last summer with my family to visit my cousin and his family, my name is printed 20 times in the school yearbook - I know because I was the editor and used the computer’s find function before we sent in the final proofs - and my older brother was in the Marines for 5 years.”

Tom blinked once when Connor finished as his mind locked in on the boy’s words, his posture, his timing. The truth stood out to him so clearly, he had to add a thoughtful pause to maximize the dramatic effect. “First of all, thank you and your family for their service to this country. Your brother was indeed a Marine. Second, you’ve earned an additional 50 seconds for ignoring my instructions and telling me two lies.”

“What?!” Connor gasped “Wait no what the hell are you talking about?! I only told one.”

Tom cut him off “TWO lies, Connor: first lie was the trip last summer, I don’t know what was not true about it but I know you were lying, and second, you do genuinely believe your name was printed 20 times in the yearbook, but you are lying about being the editor.” The boy’s stunned silence and expressionless face told Tom he was exactly correct.

“How… but wait I didn’t know that counted!” Connor said

“Well I’m sorry, but I was pretty clear about how many lies you were supposed to tell me, and that puts you at a total of 150 seconds, in case you weren’t keeping track, so I HIGHLY recommend that you avoid getting any further time. Your first real, but sixth overall, question is: what’s your greatest personal goal in life?”

Connor felt his ears heat up as he felt the anger rise in his chest. Who was this guy to come in here and start bossing him around? His mind hadn’t fully adapted to the testosterone that had relatively recently started pounding through his body and he yelled back “MY GREATEST GOAL IS TO WATCH ALL THE FAGGOTS OUT THERE LIKE YOU GET AIDS AND DIE.”

Tom pushed himself up from the chair and stood over the boy. Connor was consumed in the shadow cast from Tom’s 77 inches and 230 pounds, and he immediately knew he had made a terrible mistake. Beyond being frightened he was genuinely embarrassed of what he had said, and started “Tom, I’m sorry”

Tom was fighting to stay calm and immediately answered “no I’m sorry, sorry that you feel that way because what you just said can’t be adequately punished with more waiting time. And I’m afraid we’re going to have to make this whole thing a little less casual.” Tom knew the boy regretted lashing out, but he had to be firm. He zip-tied the boy’s wrists and ankles to the chair and kneeled before the boy. Tom added “and we’re going to keep all of you on display,” and reached forward, grabbing Connor’s jutting shaft between his thumb and forefinger just below the head and pushed down into the boy’s groin. The teenager started to squirm a little in the chair as his tight foreskin was dragged down over the slick, moist bell of his penis head. Tom pushed harder stretching the skin down all the way to expose the red inner foreskin, forcing a shudder from the humiliated boy. Connor was even more embarrassed when he saw what state his privates were in. Obviously this whole affair started because he had been masturbating, and the sticky, drying pre-cum was now gathered in thin white ribbons under the ridge of Connor’s glans, the damp fishy fumes of his adolescent arousal drifting up from his parts to the air around him.

Tom sat back and began again: “Ok onto question seven is it? Connor, you know, I really was going to make this mostly getting-to-know-you questions, with maybe a few embarrassing ones at the end. I really thought a few seconds on the grill and the humiliation of having your dick out the whole time would be plenty of punishment. Now I know you need a little more work to soften up, so we’re gonna get a little deeper. Question seven: when did your penis first start to grow?”

Connor, his courage battered and will bending, had his head down through that little lecture, but lifted a meek gaze at Tom’s question, waiting only briefly before resigning to answer, “I think I was 13, almost 14.”

“Ah a late bloomer then” Conner needled, watching the boy’s face flush rose “OK question eight, how big was it when you first measured it?”

“I think it was almost 4 inches, right after it had started growing - I was in eighth grade” Connor added.

Tom was pleasantly surprised by the additional detail the boy offered, but didn’t say anything, hoping to see how far he could get Connor to go. “Very good, and how old were you when it got to 5 inches”

Connor blushed a deeper red but continued “I think I was 15 and a half, it was at the start of my sophomore year in high school, and I remember I was so happy to be at least 5 inches I masturbated right then and there.”

Tom continued to muse at the boy’s loosening lips and pressed on “Questions nine and 10: how long is it now and when did you measure last?”

“I’m almost five and a half inches now, I measured it the week before graduating high school, so 4 months I guess?” Connor estimated.

“Question 11: do you like girls or other boys, Connor?”

“Girls.”

“I kind of figured” Tom added, smirking dryly, “question 12: when was the first time a girl touched your penis? I’m not talking about your mom, here, Connor, I mean a girl around your age.”

Connor shifted in his chair again, his penis swelling subtly more, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “Uhhh I was 15, it was a girl at summer camp and we ended up figuring out that we were camped near each other on our backpacking trips.”

“Question 14: when was the first time you pulled back your foreskin?”

Connor blushed his deepest red yet, and stammered with a sheepishness Tom felt was out of proportion to the question “Um I was 15 also.”

“Question 15: what the hell happened that you were so embarrassed by the question?”

“Do I have to tell you?” Connor asked, sounding defeated.

“I mean…” Tom started

“NO! I don’t want any more waiting time, I’m sorry” Connor replied quickly “well, um, it was actually also the first time a girl touched me there. I texted her to walk towards a blinking light and then I walked about 40 feet out from my camp until I was just about in the middle between the two camps. I flashed the light on my phone towards her camp and she met me there. We started out just kissing then I got to feel under her shirt.” Connor continued. A pearl of precum parted the lips at the tip of the boy’s penis head and started to roll slowly down the tight frenulum. “She started rubbing my chest and then I reached down and started unbuckling my pants. She stopped me and started talking about how she couldn’t have sex because her cousin just got pregnant in high school and her parents were all freaked out. I told her I had never had sex either and said we should just fool around and see what happens. At that point she completely shifted her attitude and stopped my hands as I reached back down to undo my belt. She asked if she could do it, and my 15 year old brain just about flew out of my skull from horniness overload. I couldn’t even speak to say yes so I just held my breath, bit my upper lip, and nodded my head really fast. She pulled my pants down and my dick was sticking up like a metal bolt. I was leaning back bracing my body on my arms stretched behind me thinking I was the teenage king of the world. She gripped my dick right in the middle and started moving the skin on the shaft up and down just a little at a time, her hand maybe moving a half a centimeter up and down and pretty slowly. I told her that what she was doing felt really good - I think she knew it was the truth because my voice must have cracked eight times while I was saying it - but that she needed to mover her hand a little more and work a little faster for me to feel really good. Bless her for trying, I realized I had made a big mistake when she tightened her hand on my dick and first yanked up towards her, then ripped all the way back down. That’s as much pumping as she did because when she pushed down, the head of my dick popped through my foreskin for the first time and I screamed out at the shocking sting between my legs. I was scared she had seriously hurt my penis, and panicking asked her to use her phone to light up my crotch. She and I both now had a view of my wounded package: in her shock at my pained reaction she never let go of my dick, and her hand held the foreskin back tightly. I looked at my tip for the first time and could see a thin membrane between the rim of the head and the inside of my skin and I actually started crying when I saw that the membrane was ripped apart about 2/3 of the way around the rim. There was this thick layer of white stuff under where the membrane had ripped open, and it smelled really bad, like rotting fish. Unfortunately for me my scream woke up both camps and within a minute, with this girl still holding my penis, had counselors from both camps and a growing number of campers were standing around me, gawking at me as I cried quietly and held my penis up on my open hands jostling my weight between my feet to try and keep myself from crying harder. My penis shrank down to a tiny size, like less than two inches, and the sensation of the head against the hair on my balls was like razor blades, but I was too scared to try and push the skin back, so all I could do to protect it was hold it in my hands on display like that, the head sticking out for everyone to see, red and raw where the membrane had ripped, and stinking up the whole area.”

Tom was floored, but tried not to show it “Wow, OK I get why you were embarrassed… Let’s count that as two questions.”

“Thanks” Connor said feebly

“Question 17, getting close now, Connor, what is your absolute favorite body part?”

“Um, ok well since I started being able to get my skin back more easily, I think my tip is my favorite body part.”

“Question 18: why is it your favorite?”

“Well I don’t know, I mean, it’s just it feels really amazing to touch it now. One time a girl even pulled my skin back while she was giving me a BJ and it was just amazing. It’s really sensitive because my skin pretty much stays over it all the time. There’s just nothing in the world I would trade for my tip.” Connor explained, again in surprising detail, looking down fondly at the bared end of his penis.

If you could write an adolescent boys’ anthem, that last declaration would make a damn good title, Tom mused, smiling to himself before continuing on, “Question 19: How old were you the first time you came?”

“Oh man, OK, don’t judge me, but when I was 14, just a couple weeks before my 15th birthday. I was riding on my older brother’s motorcycle with him and we were going along this long country road in the middle of nowhere when my junk started to feel amazing and tingle with the vibrating bike. I started to get hard and after about 30 seconds I was panting and begging my brother to pull the bike over. He asked me what was wrong and I told him what happened. He started cracking up and told me I had just cum! He offered to stash my boxers away if they were wet and uncomfortable but I told him they didn’t feel wet and he just said I wasn’t able jizz yet, but that I could make that feeling come back if I rubbed it when I was by myself.” Connor said.

“Clearly you took his advice,” Tom jabbed “but I meant when was the first time you ejaculated, like made semen come out.”

Connor stared at his feet, “I kind of hoped that wasn’t what you meant.” He went on after a deep sigh, closing his eyes tightly he said “The first time I jizzed I was 16. It was 4 months before I turned 17 and I was so happy to have finally made cum I kissed my fingers and accidentally tasted it” Tom had to suppress a laugh “I didn’t really ‘shoot’ until well after my 17th birthday.”

Connor was clearly devastated by having to reveal the secrets of his late development. Tom felt for the poor boy as he though about how he must have watched all his friends becoming men around him, ashamed and trying to hide his boyish genitals during school showers and slumber parties. Mercifully, Tom allowed, “Thank you for being so cooperative, Connor. For telling me all those extra details, I’ll count that last answer as two questions. Your interrogation is complete. Now let’s get ready to wrap this up.” Tom saw the boy gulp cartoonishly when he pushed a heavy stand mixer up beside a low table, fetching the panini press from the deli and setting it up just around crotch-height. Connor watched Tom plug the machine in, and felt his rebellious boner finally start to wilt as the fear set in.

Connor was visibly terrified as he walked towards the mixer. He had gone a ghostly white, and from his shoulders down was trembling slightly. He shuddered as his back pressed into the cold metal of the heavy industrial stand mixer. His knees rested on the small platforms above the wheels on the rolling frame as his feet stuck backwards, zip-tied at the ankles to the middle wheel posts on the frame. His hands were zip tied above his head to the top of the mixer as the matte silver metal of the oversized mixing bowl pressed Connor’s hips fully forward. Tom’s gaze traveled down to the soft dangling flesh between the boy’s legs. The boy’s uncircumcised penis was shriveled in fear, now just shy of 2 inches. Even when it was erect, Connor’s penis was on the slimmer side, and with everything tightened up by the adrenaline raging through his body, the boy’s slight frame and small genitals made him look like a boy still in the throes of puberty.

Connor’s jaw was flexing rhythmically as he gritted his teeth, staring down at his exposed manhood and awaiting its punishment. “Now’s the time, Connor” Tom said, almost gently, as he started to feel for the boy; the plaintive, hysterical look in the teenager’s eyes as he shot a glance at Tom hit him square in the chest. Tom turned the knob on the press, watching his adolescent captive’s whole slender frame wince at the sharp, familiar click of the machine switching on. He started his timer, and began to count off the 150 seconds that Connor had earned over the course of his earlier punishments. Connor’s body winced again each time the grill plates creaked as they grew ever hotter. By two minutes, when he started to see the first heat lines forming over the borders of the press he began to almost whimper.

With 20 seconds of wait time remaining, Tom, feeling lenient, stood up early to get the boy prepared for his final punishment. He walked up to the boy, kneeling, trussed up on the heavy mixer a little less than a foot away from the waiting grill. Tom walked around to the front of the boy and knelt down, looking the boy in the eyes. Alright Connor here we go. I’ll keep the phone visible so you know how much time you have to go. Tom turned to open the grill, discretely touching the plates with his hand to make sure he wouldn’t be grievously injuring the boy. They were hot to the touch but not enough to burn, Tom guessed they were about as hot as a hot tub, maybe 100 degrees. Tom tried to ballpark the number in his head, and figured the plates should be a blistering 120-130 degrees by the time Connor’s punishment window was finished. Leaving the jaws of the press open, Tom stood up and walked around to the back of the mixer. Bending low to push with more force, Tom inched the mixer closer to the low table on which the press was stationed. Connor clenched his jaw, fighting back tears as he began to feel the radiant heat from the press on his most tender area. When the root of Connor’s penis was a few centimeters from the grill, Tom walked back to the boy’s side. He took Connor’s penis into his hand, and looked up at Connor’s face. The boy looked down at him with his lips shriveled together tightly, breathing raggedly. He lightened his grip, holding his adolescent prisoner’s small package up at the base of the penis. Tom used his other hand to pinch Connor’s shaft, pulling toward’s Connor’s body to stretch back his foreskin. Connor gasped before Tom made much progress, and for the first time since he had been tied up to the mixer her spoke “Wait no, what are you doing?”

“Connor, I told you we were going to grill your penis on this grill today. You didn’t think that meant you’d get to protect your favorite part of your dick with this, did you?” Tom added, pinching the end of Connor’s foreskin between his thumb and forefinger, and stretching the skin downwards until it slid from his grip, the elastic recoil sending the boy’s penis flying up to bounce off his patch of blond pubic hair.

“So, you’re gonna grill the tip too?” Connor asked nervously. When Tom nodded, the corners of Connor’s mouth twisted downward and his eyes squinted as he started to lose control, sharp fragments of sobs breaking through his stoic facade as he watched Tom reveal the most sensitive, private part of his already exquisitely sensitive teenage dick. Tom held the boy’s foreskin back tightly, exposing the slick, red, inner foreskin, as fickle adolescent hormones made the limp organ swell slightly to around 3 inches in length at the man’s foreign touch. Trying to hide his own apprehension, he laid the vulnerable penis on the grill. Connor yelped when his penis first touched the plate but his panicked panting slowed quickly. Tom lowered the top of the grill and started his timer. He placed the phone where he and Connor could both see the screen and waited.

At first, Connor felt relieved: he’d half thought that his dick would sizzle and smoke as soon as it touched the quickly warming metal, but this felt no warmer than a hot shower. He began to think the whole thing wouldn’t be that bad when he felt the plates get warmer, then a little warmer, then a little warmer still. He felt like an idiot when he realized it would simply continue to get warmer the whole time. By 20 seconds, the first beads of sweat started to form around Connor’s forehead and at the roots of his faint rumor of a mustache. By 40 seconds, he had started to give up the occasional throaty “ah” or stifled “ow!” Connor finally broke down and started to cry just after 60 seconds had passed. He started feebly trying to move his hips, to shake himself free as the heavy plates seared and compressed his most precious body part, but it was hopeless - the zip ties kept his limbs firmly fixed and he had little ability to change his positioning on the mixer. He begged Tom for relief, the seconds seeming to double and triple in length as the phone’s stopwatch crawled past 70 seconds “Tom get it out, please take it out of there. It’s burning my dick pleeeeheeheeheeheeasseeee” he drew a lung full of air as his crying reached a new pitch and tears began to flow thickly down his cheeks “don’t let it hurt my penis please - the grill - ahhaahaaahaa please it’s gonna ruin my dick”

Tom remained emotionless, and shortly after Connor finished his humiliating plea, he said “90 seconds is up” and opened the grill.

Connor blinked the tears out of his eyes to clear his vision and looked down at his penis resting in Tom’s hand as Tom pushed the grill back from the edge of the table. He felt lightheaded when he saw the shriveled strip of flesh resting in the man’s hand and mourned what had become of his most prized organ. The porcelain white skin was marred with deep red grill lines cutting diagonally across the short shaft, becoming a livid blue-purple as they continued across the shiny, sensitive glans. Connor’s crying, trailing off somewhat from it’s peak, intensified again as he saw the neat lines of blisters following the edges of the grill marks on his glans. Although they were all small and varied in size he felt the same lancing pain shoot down from each one through the head of his penis. “Oh god my poor dick!” he exclaimed, squealing a high-pitched “owowowowow” as Tom rolled the boy’s raw foreskin to cover his blistered, stinging glans. By the time Tom got Connor loose, his crying had reduced to sniffling, and Tom had the boy stand in front of him, hands behind his back.

“OK Connor, you did very well, as soon as that grill is hot - well, hotter - throw my sandwich on there, and I’ll be on my way. But there is one last piece of your punishment, as promised, for that one transgression that was a little too serious to be punished for with waiting time alone.” Connor flushed white again as he regretted his earlier indiscretion. “now that your punishment has completed, you will finish what you started.” Connor looked confused - this kid really wasn’t the brightest - and Tom elaborated “you’re going to finish jerking off”

Connor reflexively stammered “oh, no way!” Even if he hadn’t just had his penis grilled into oblivion he would never intentionally jerk off in front of another guy.

“I thought you might say that” Tom said, cleverly “and that’s fine, I was always prepared for an alternate solution.” Tom walked Connor to the loading dock, and hooked the zip tie that still bound Connor’s wrist to the hook of the loading dock’s ceiling crane. He quickly zip-tied Connor’s ankles to the metal ring welded to the ground and brought a stool to sit before the anxious boy. “In that case, Connor, I’ll finish the deed for you” Connor started thrashing around and shouting, trying to escape. Tom slapped his hand hard against the boy’s tense stomach, and he yelped, calming down. “That’s better” Tom said impatiently. He moved the stool up to the teenager’s knees and sat, hooking his legs around the boy’s to hold him in place.

He cracked the seal on his new bottle of olive oil and looked up to relish the boy’s face twisted in pain when he quickly stripped back the inflamed foreskin. Holding down the boy’s foreskin with his left hand he coated his right palm in olive oil and started to massage it into the boy’s exposed penis. Connor immediately yelled and started to cry as Tom’s hand glided indifferently over the screaming blisters on his exposed glans. Despite the pain, the boy’s hormone-charged body started to respond, and the splitting, burning pain intensified as Connor’s penis swelled to it’s full, slim five and a half inches. His leg hairs caught the light - from the darker curls over his calves to the short, fine golden hairs on his thighs - and twinkled on Connor’s quivering limbs as he squeezed them together tightly, arching his back to tuck in his hips in a vain, desperate attempt to protect his hopelessly vulnerable young manhood, the same tender flesh that was just cooked raw on the panini press. Tom worked his hand over the throbbing teenage penis, squeezing and twisting savagely when his palm reached the head. After about three minutes, with Connor a blubbering, shivering mess, he shouted, voice cracking “I’m about to jizz” and not five seconds later two thick streams of semen shot out, the second flying farther than the first, followed by five or six pulsing dribbles of cum peeking out from the tip of Connor’s aching dick, each pulse arriving with a thunderous spasm of the boy’s developing abdominal muscles. After he was finished cumming, Connor’s spirit seemed to implode completely as he collapsed sobbing, his weight dangling from crane hook as the uncaring zip tie bit into the skin of his wrists and kept his hands bound, unable to soothe the pride of his adolescence as it hung stinging and swollen between his legs.

Tom cut the boy free. Connor fell to the floor and cupped his hands over his crotch, rocking and crying for another five minutes before he got up and got dressed. Connor finished packaging up Tom’s sandwich and, still puffy under the eyes from his forceful crying minutes before, even thanked Tom for “keeping everything on the DL.” Biting into the perfectly toasted sandwich Tom knew two things for sure: first, that Connor would never risk exposing himself again. Second, Tom knew that he was going to jerk off until he went blind replaying the events of that day in his memory - and of course literally replaying everything all over again on the footage captured by his AR glasses. Every time Connor saw Tom in the store after that he blushed, but he remained friendly with the regular customer. He even told Tom that after a couple weeks, his penis was healed up and seemed to be no worse for the wear. It’s been five years now since the store shut down, but Tom will always have his video.








(End of File)