Becoming Florian's Sex Toy

"My CockSleeve® broke," my upstairs neighbor Florian blurted when I opened the door to my apartment one lazy Saturday afternoon.

I had been listening to the original Camelot cast recording with my headphones on, all cozy in my 'Protect the Dolls' T-shirt and flannel boxer briefs, when he knocked and interrupted "If Ever I Should Leave You," one of my favorites. My first reaction? Annoyance. Though the sight of him in nothing but a white towel wrapped around his slender hips and his phone in one hand and the sex toy the other tempered my mood. He is short like me but he has a muscled physique, more hot yoga studio than Gold's Gym, with a fine dusting of root beer-colored hair all over his body, and his face--oof!--a face that could cuck a king, very Lancelot du Lac, 'c'est moi, c'est moi,' strong features, jawbone, a Roman nose, and blue eyes beneath a fluffy fringe of dark curls.

A flashing thought--I wanted to see Florian in armor. I wanted him to pound my hole while wearing a breastplate, like Uther Pendragon when he fucks Igraine in that movie Excalibur. Though Uther taps Merlin to help deceive Igraine into thinking she is with her husband and that part is so not right but the result of the union is Arthur, so, yes, the myth is problematic.

(And, yes, I'm a nerd. Yes, I play Dungeons & Dragons. Yes, I LARP. And you already know I love Broadway musicals.)

"My CockSleeve® broke. Look at that crack," Florian repeats.

"And?" I asked rather brattily. "Why should I care? Call customer service."

I say 'hello' to Florian every time we pass in the hallway and he barely registers my existence. I'm not "hot" in his eyes and I'm chubby so I don't rate--that's my guess as to why he never gives me the courtesy of his attention, even though we are most likely the only two gay men in the building. So, no, not a fan of Knights who scoff at the Round Table.

"Well, I really need to cum and... I thought I could use your hole," he said with a sly smile. "As a temporary replacement for my CockSleeve®. Or a permanent one if you deliver the goods."

"Excuse me?" I am offended--but intrigued.

He inserted two fingers into the casing-cracked sex toy's pink hole. "Use your hole."

"Uhhhh...."

He finger-fucked the hole to demonstrate--as if I were a village idiot--and then whispered, "Except think of my fingers as my fat cock and the hole as your mouth, or maybe your...."

I stared at the cocky bastard as my hole pulsated, still sore from this morning when a throuple, three German bears visiting from overseas, had me for breakfast and pumped gallons of porridge into me.

The thought of Florian getting me on all fours as his masturbation toy plumped my cock enough to bulge the flannel fabric of my boxers.

Florian noticed and grinned. "Chubbing up, aren't you?"

Damnit! Florian was serving some Morgan Le Fay-level enchantment. I was under his spell and wanted to see where this led to, pissed off though I was.

"Could you please invite me in? I'm a bit exposed out here."

I ushered him in and closed the door, but not before sneaking a glance at his towel-hugging peach of a butt. "Why do you think you can talk to me like that?"

"Because I've seen the parade of guys coming into and out of your apartment." He looked me straight in the eye and smirked.

Why do toxic bros have to be so handsome sometimes?

"Why the slut shaming?" I countered. "And anyway my body count isn't the highest."

One thing to know about me--every month is the lusty month of May.

"Oh, it's high. And since you're not--how do I say this?--conventionally attractive, I assume you like being a hole for men. You take any load you can get."

I laughed, though I imagine my anger filtered through. Men like Florian have no idea 'what the simple folk do.' They'll never realize that thousands of average-looking men find attraction beyond Instagram aesthetics. That we're not wearing chastity belts like some maiden in a tower. We have plenty of sex, joyous, nasty, all kinds of horny sex. And not to toot my own buisine, but I've been called 'cute' by plenty of men and plenty of men think my thick body is sexy, but, whatever, that doesn't matter. I have a good heart and treat everyone with kindness and respect.

"And what makes you think I'm not a top. Or vers? Because I carry around a few extra pounds?"

He poked my furry belly, sticking out from beneath my T-shirt, and he raised his eyebrows as if to say, 'A few extra pounds?' I blushed. "I don't see it," he said matter-of-factly. "A big marshmallow of a man like you topping all those guys?"

The words stung but they weren't unexpected. In my fantasies, I always imagine Florian saying mean, dommy things to me and I've cum loads and loads. Had I pre-normalized this kind of verbal abuse? Or had I taken things said to me my whole life and tried to process them through sexual fantasy? At any rate, I've known tops of all sizes, Willow-sized and Fezzik-sized. Florian lives in a bubble. "You have a sorry excuse for an imagination. And you're rude. I bet you don't even know my name."

"I keep thinking it's... Chubster? It's Chubster isn't it?"

His juvenile misnaming made my hole pulsate again. "Very funny. It's Chester. Chezz, for short."

He ignored me--he didn't care one whit about my name. "So, Chubster, Chubs for short, are you up for being my proxy CockSleeve®?"

"Quite the seducer, aren't you?"

"Well, that's just it. You don't need seduction. You like being a slut. A cumdump. Am I right?" the know-it-all asked, as he set his phone down on the arm of the couch and the broken sex toy on my coffee table next to two empty Ben & Jerry's cartons.

I didn't trouble his limited perception of me. "Even if that's true, why do you think I want to help you out?"

"I've seen you checking me out. I'm sure you have objectified every inch of my body and jacked off thinking about me. So I thought you wouldn't mind being my CockSleeve®."

I have jacked off thinking about Florian--not this scenario, but one like it. I don't lie, but I play it up. "Yep, I goon to you for hours."

"Thought so." He laughed and flounced down on my couch. His towel flapped open and he showed some upper thigh. I could tell he wasn't hard--maybe semi-hard. "What's my best feature? My six-pack? My butt? My kissable lips? My big feet maybe? Or do you have weird fetishes, like, you goon to men's ears or something?"

"I don't break men down into body parts, Florian. I see them as a whole not a hole." This is lost on Florian. "But once you were wearing a white shirt and I could see your dark nipples through the fabric. It was quite sexy."

Florian laughed and tweaked his dart-like nubs. "And you thought about licking my nipples while you gooned? Or rubbing your chubby cock between my pecs? And then you imagined shooting your load all over my handsome face--you like to degrade me because I'm beautiful?"

I didn't answer--I had done all he suggested. Maybe Florian had a reason to be wary of men, to make a boundary out of his beauty.

"Why don't you call one of the men I see you with?" I ask.

"Those are men I date. I wouldn't use them for getting off."

How precious. How condescending.

"Go on the apps."

He smiled--I know he's seen me on the apps, 25 feet away, and yet never clicked on my profile. Of course he knows I've visited his profile once or twice--okay, hundreds of times.

"I hate the apps--too many losers trying to get my attention," he said. I blushed--I had 'flirted' with him more than once. Give me a break--my hole makes my brain do silly things. "So that leaves you."

"Does it?"

"It does, Chubster. Kneel down, between my legs. Be my good little hole."

The words buzzed my brain. I obeyed. His attitude repulsed me but I couldn't resist the chance to be with him. And figured I should go for broke. This would be a one-and-done.

Kneeling, I placed my hands on his thighs and looked at him. "I could be your full-time CockSleeve®, sir."

He didn't criticize my acting--haven't done it since I played Tom of Warwick in high school.

"Yeah? You'd like that?" He rubbed his bulging cock, his hand moving slowly over the towel.

I had rehearsed the script plenty of times in my head and now was opening night. "Someone as perfect as you shouldn't have to masturbate. Not when I'm right here. One floor down."

"That's the right attitude. But you're going to have to earn that status," he said. "Tell me your limits. You're okay with fat shaming obviously or you'd have kicked me out by now. What about spit? Raunch? Face slapping?"

"I'm fine with all those. I don't accept--." I listed my limits and he nodded. Tellingly, he didn't share his with me.

"What's your name, again?" he quizzed me.

"My name is Chubster, sir. And I think--."

"Your job is not to think. Just do what I tell you to do. Let your gooner brain take over and become the perfect CockSleeve®. A real man is here to guide you and show you what you're good for."

Florian sat up and cupped my cheeks with his strong hands and I melted. He tilted my head back. I knew what he wanted so I opened my mouth. He drizzled spit onto my tongue.

"You are a good little hole, aren't you? Good for serving superior men and nothing more?"

I nodded.

"Would you give up all those men who come over and be my private CockSleeve®?"

I nodded.

He grabbed at my belly, squeezed my love handles. "Mmmm, big and thick like a CockSleeve®. Look at this chub. Better lay off the McDonald's, Chubster. Yeah, I see all those DoorDashes. Stuffing your mouth with fries when you're not stuffing your mouth with cock, huh?"

"Yes, sir." I whimpered as he kept inspecting my flab. Pinching me over and over. "I can't control myself. I love Big Macs."

"I might have to whip you into shape. And then make you gain it all back. Would you like that, Chubs? Having a cut physique like me and then gaining it all back by me feeding you junk food?"

"Yes, sir."

"You need someone to control your body because you're too weak-willed when it comes to your gluttony?"

"Yes, sir."

"Lean forward," he said. And when I obeyed, he reached over my shoulders and down my back. My face smushed in his hairy armpit, musk in my nostrils, his hands slapped my butt cheeks and then squeezed them. "Oh, yeah, big fat dumper. Big fat cakes. But so wobbly. So jiggly. Got to firm you up a bit."

"Yes, sir." My find felt numb. Was my mouth open? Was I drooling? My mind was drooling.

He straightened up again and played with my pecs, his hands snaking up beneath my T-shirt. "Look at these chubby tits. So plump." He pinched my nipples before leaning back and went into bicep pose. My mouth watered--I wanted to suck on those big round biceps. I wanted to kiss his kissable lips. And then he ran one hand down his pecs and abdomen. "Look at my body and look at yours."

"You're beautiful, sir. I'm a loser." My brain started to sink deeper into sub space. I didn't resist. I stared at his beautiful eyes. Blue eyes. I sunk deeper as my hole pulsated and my cock strained against my boxers.

I reached to stroke myself but Florian corrected me. "No, no. You're here for me. My pleasure."

"Yes, sir."

"Repeat after me: 'I am a chubster. I'd rather eat McDonald's than go to the gym.'"

I repeat the lie: "I am a chubster. I'd rather eat McDonald's than go to the gym."

"'I gave up trying to find a boyfriend because I'm a fat loser.'"

I repeat the lie: "I gave up trying to find a boyfriend because I'm a fat loser."

"'I enjoy being a worthless cumdump.'"

I repeat the lie... or half-truth: "I enjoy being a worthless cumdump."

"'My purpose in life is to goon and serve men.'"

I repeat... the truth: "My purpose in life is to goon and serve men."

"'I allow men who are superior tell me what to do and what to think.'"

I repeat the truth: "I allow men who are superior tell me what to do and what to think."

"'I am a chubster. I'd rather eat McDonald's than go to the gym.'"

I repeat the truth: "I am a chubster. I'd rather eat McDonald's than go to the gym."

"That's right, Chubster. I'm better than you in every way," he said, sitting up again, his face hovering over mine. "Don't open your mouth."

He spat, I winced, and the big gob hit my nose. His hand smeared his spittle over my face, his fingers making sure he spread the saliva everywhere.

"Thank you, sir. Please, sir, let me jack my pathetic cock."

"No."

Then two of his fingers pressed against my lips and I opened my mouth to accept them. He slid his fingers against my tongue, gently fucking my mouth. He smiled when I didn't gag. "No one wants a slutty hole for a boyfriend. Are you okay with that--being a hole for men?"

"Yeth sir."

"Good little hole. Good for nothing but servicing men. Catering to their perverse needs."

"Yeth, thir." I imagined kneeling, encircled by Sir Gawain, Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, Sir Lancelot, and the rest, slurping their cocks like a piggy peasant.

"Back in college, a professor once offered me $1,000 to suck on my nose." Florian laughed. "Can you believe that?"

"Yeth, thir."

"I had the fattest bank account by the end of the semester. Every week or so, he'd ask me to meet him in his office and I would just stand there, fully clothed, while he sucked on my nose and jerked his cock. Once, I had a cold, and he suckled all this gooey snot out of my nose. I charged him extra and he paid. Disgusting, right?" He chortled.

"Yeth, thir."

"Do you want to suck on my nose?" He pulled his fingers out of my mouth.

"No, sir."

He laughed as he sat back. "There's something weird about you though, disgusting Chubster. I'll get it out of you. Now kiss my feet."

I bent forward and kissed his hairy toes. He lifted one foot and I eagerly sucked his big toe and he cackled. "Good little chubster."

When I looked up, his feet dropping from my face, he had thrown off the towel, revealing his cock--fat, broad, a good ten inches. I groaned. Nothing sexier than a big dong on a small guy.

"Come on, suck. Do the work. Just like a CockSleeve®."

I held his meaty shaft and licked his cockhead. And then my lips slid over the plump head, spit fizzing. I stretched my lips and sucked. He tasted like vanilla and cream. I pigged out on his shaft. But I sucked without breathing through my nose and choked. I let go, sputtering.

"I expect better, Chubster. Come on. I know it's a big but I expect better from a slut like you. Be the toy."

I grabbed hold of his fat balls and sucked his cock deep, gagging at one point but keeping my lips stretched. His cock was lodged in me like the sword in the stone.

"Up, down. Do the work. Up, down. Good little chubster."

I rested for a couple of seconds.

"I'm not going to face-fuck you, Chubster. Do the work. Come on. Up, down."

Like a mechanical device, I sucked him. Up, down. Up, down. Florian just leaned back, hands clasped atop his head. My mouth ached but I sucked and sucked. Sometimes I held the base of his shaft and slurped his cockhead with my tongue. But I would quickly return to sucking. He groaned and held my head with his hand when he began to leak pre-cum down my throat. He stopped, pushed my mouth off of his cock, spat in my face and then pushed my mouth back on his cock.

"Yes, keep sucking, Chubs. You're doing good. Good little hole."

I hummed my appreciation for his encouragement.

"You like serving me?"

"Mmmmm."

"You ready for my load? You going to drink it all?"

"Mmmmm."

"First whisper in my ear the weird fetish you have."

I let go of his cock and its thick shaft bounced back on his abs. I wiped a string of drool still dripping from my mouth as he leaned toward me. I whispered in his ear.

He sat back and roared. "Oh, Chubster. I knew you had a weird fetish. Whoa. We're going to have to explore that next time."

Next time? I couldn't contain my smile. "Yes, sir."

"Okay, CockSleeve®, ready for my load? Keep sucking."

Florian placed both his hands on my head and moved my mouth up and down. I had become an object. A toy. I sucked dutifully, perfectly. And then he grunted and jetted rope after rope of hot gooey cum down my throat and I took it all, as a CockSleeve® would.

Later, when I was out at karaoke with my group of friends, I could still taste Florian in my mouth as I crooned "The Simple Joys of Maidenhood."