Yes, Mr. President

I sat on the wooden bench, staring into my locker. I'd felt adrift the entire week after going full-on slut at the bookstore. It had altered something foundational inside of me. I didn't know who I was any longer.

Without Tessa around, I'd gone off the deep end. I'd thrown myself into my new life. I'd been walking around my apartment wearing only the teeny thong the President had given me. I'd been succumbing toalmostevery passing urge, regardless of how disgusting they would have felt a few months earlier. Nonetheless, I'd been vigilant to not jerk off since the President had asked me not to do so.

I had been unfathomably horny all the time, though. It hadn't taken me long to find a new rhythm that seemed to give me some relief. I'd crawl into bed and turn on porn starring the actor who looked like the President. I'd lube up my fingers and use them to tease my fag pussy. I'd spend hours each night finger-fucking myself as I pretended it was the President doing it to me.

I'd gotten better at it with practice. After a few days, I'd been able to make it so a steady flow of pre-cum leaked from my cock as I played with my man cunt. I hadn't been able to make myself cum without touching my dick, though. I had started to realize that I needed something more than porn to make that happen. I needed the President.

I'd also given more thought to who I was becoming, even if it wasn't easy to let myself go there. I knew it sounded crazy, but I had decided that two things were true. I was still a red-blooded, corn-fed straight boy from Nebraska,andI would never be able to tap into that side of myself again while I was still with the President. Until he decided he no longer needed me, I was going to be his full-service faggot. My life had become a paradox.

"Earth to Truett," Dillon said, waving his hand in front of my face.

"Sorry, I guess I was spacing out."

"Good job today. You and Vinny killed it, bro."

"Thanks. Vinny deserves all the credit. I was passing long the whole game, but he still managed to get to the ball."

Dillon gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder before marching towards the showers. I'd already stripped off my clothes. I was just sitting there with a towel wrapped around my waist. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as I imagined entering the shower with my friends. I was prepared for the teasing, but I was more concerned how it'd make me feel inside.

As I walked into the small room, six of the guys I played with were all positioned under various streams of water. None of them were shy. In fact, it wasn't uncommon for everyone to keep their backs to the wall so they could more easily talk with one another as they bathed.

I felt like I was seeing them for the first time as I walked past them to an open showerhead on the opposite wall. My eyes focused in on their bulging biceps and defined abs. I tried not to gawk at their meaty cocks nestled in their full bushes, but it was impossible.

My brain had changed. My friends had become objects. Dillon suddenly wasn't just a fun dude who could tackle the biggest brutes. He was the owner of a thick uncut cock that my lips desperately desired to taste. Andy wasn't just a beefy bro who'd always tease us whenever we fumbled the ball. He had suddenly become the guy with the thickest fingers on the team - fingers that I kind of wanted to feel inside of my hole.

I took my place under the waterfall raining down from the silver showerhead. I whipped off my towel, and then I turned on the knobs. I'd showered at the gym enough to know the exact way to get the water the perfect temperature.

"What's that shit, bro?" I heard Andy ask from the showerhead to the right of mine.

I'd already started to lather up my body. I turned around to face him.

"What?" I asked.

"Jesus, I still can't believe you shaved off your pubes. It makes you look like a faggot or something. Quinn could never convince me to do that shit."

Andy was tugging at his large, soaped-up nuts as he spoke. His cock looked about as long fully soft as mine did when it was rock hard. I forced myself not to stare. I redirected my attention back towards his hazel eyes.

"What's on your ass?" he asked. "It looks like a scribble or something?"

Even under the warm water, goose flesh managed to emerge on my forearms. I'd thought about how I was going to explain the tattoo, but it still didn't make it any easier. I knew they'd razz the shit out of me.

"What's that?" Dillon asked from across the room. "What's going on with Truett now? Did he shave his pits to complete the hairless look?"

All six of the muscle-bound hunks had directed their attention towards me. I could feel myself blushing. I was simultaneous loving and hating having them all gawk at me.

"It's a tattoo," I said. "I... I lost a bet and had to get it."

"No fucking way!" Andy exclaimed.

"What's he going on about?" Chad, a rising sophomore, chimed in.

"Truett's got some weird scribble on his ass cheek!" Andy said. "He's saying it's a tattoo."

"Strait-laced, Christian farm boy getting a tat for losing a bet?" Dillon said, shaking his head. "I don't believe it."

"You gotta see it, guys," Andy said.

He stepped over next to me. He grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. I could feel all of their eyes focused on my peachy right ass cheek.

"Holy shit!" Chad said with a titter. "He wasn't lying. What does it say?"

I could hear the sound of their feet against the tile floor. They were all moving closer to me, trying to get a better look.

"Resident The Door Mickey?" Andy guessed. "What does that mean?"

"President Theodore M. Kelley," I mumbled, feeling absolutely mortified.

"Now Iknowyou're shitting me!" Dillon said. "There's no way in a million years Mr. 'Neither side is great, but I just respect the Republicans more' Truett Randall gotthattattooed on his ass!"

"It was a bet," I reiterated. "I lost a bet to a friend. It's just a tattoo. I can always get it covered up later."

"What was the bet?" Chad asked.

Oh, fuck, I thought to myself. I'd been stupid enough to assume that none of them would ask questions about the supposed bet. I'd only focused on coming up with answers to more likely queries, like assuring them that Tessa thought it was stupid but wasn't mad. I still hadn't told any of them about her leaving.

"P... poker. I was playing against one of the crazy Dem interns. It was down to the two of us, and I didn't have enough cash to make the call. I knew I was going to win, though. I had four of a kind. He told me he'd let me keep going if I agreed to get a tattoo of his choosing if I lost. He had a royal flush. And you know that I don't renege on a bet."

"Bull-fucking-shit," Dillon said from behind me. "A poker showdown? A royal flush? It's not even a real tattoo. Look, you can see where the ink from the marker is bleeding at the edges."

Dillon's finger jabbed into my juicy globe. I nearly jumped into the air from the shock of being touched.

"It looks pretty real to me," Chad said.

"God, you're a retard," Dillon responded. "Watch this." Dillon started rubbing his fingers against my bubble butt. I tried to jerk away, but Andy quickly wrapped his arm around my shoulder to keep me penned in.

"What?" I eked out. "What are you doing, Dillon? Stop... stop it!"

"See?" Dillion said. "He knows he's about to get busted. I just don't get the point. Kind of a stupid joke to play on us. Luke, toss me a bar of soap."

I could feel everything closing in around me. Dillon's left hand grabbed the back on my thigh while his right hand started rubbing the bar of Irish Spring into my cheek with a ferocity that was making my entire backside jiggle like a bowl full of Jell-O.

"Cut it..." I muttered. "Cut it out."

"Fuck, what did you use?" Dillon asked. "One of those permanent markers?"

I felt him remove his hand from my thigh. Seconds later, it was clamped down on my left ass cheek as he tried his best to wash away my tattoo from the other one. His large fingers were digging into my glutes. It must have been all the training with the butt plug - my hole began to vibrate just from feeling him pawing at my behind.

"I think it'srealreal," Chad said.

"Nah," Dillion replied. "I can see it starting to come off."

My knees began to wobble as he worked me over. Blood pumped into my cock; it was rock hard in mere seconds. I suddenly imagined Dillon slipping his fingers inside of me while the other guys watched. I thought about what it would be like telling the President about it after it'd happened. I felt a divine warmth rush over me as I imagined how pleased it would make him.

"Toss me a washcloth, bruh," Dillon said to one of the other guys.

The coarse fabric exfoliated my ass cheek as Dillon buffed it fiercely. My asshole was starting to twitch; my balls were tightening up close to my body. I closed my eyes; I couldn't do anything to stop the lust from surging through my veins.

"Dude, you're scrubbing off his skin," Andy said. "His ass is bright red, but that isn't coming off. It's a legit tattoo, bro."

I heard Dillon let out a large sigh. I knew that he hated to be wrong. In most circumstances, he'd never fully admit to a mistake - and so, rather than give up, he pressed even harder.

My cock was pulsing. I could feel a few drops of pre-cum spill from it down onto the tile floor. I wanted nothing more in that moment than for him to jam his finger inside of me until it collided with my fag spot. I knew it would make me cum buckets.

"Just give it up," Chad said.

Surprisingly, that's exactly what Dillon did. I felt him pull his hands away from my luscious ass.

"I can't believe it's real," Dillon said. Without warning, Andy yanked his arm away from where it had been draped across my shoulder. I felt myself being spun around on my heels.

"What the fuck?" Chad exclaimed with a chuckle.

"A boner in the showers?" Andy said teasingly. "Save that shit until you get home, bruh."

"Not much to save," Luke called out from a few feet away.

"Jesus, not really a grower or a show-er?" Dillon said. "I always figured your little inchworm had to get bigger than that."

"He must have pissed Tessa off if he's getting so on edge that he's popping wood from having a dude scrub his ass," Andy said. "Trouble in paradise?"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't. My body was flooded with a delirious concoction of excitement and embarrassment. The group of guys I had always known as my friends were finally putting me in my place. They were making me the bitch of the group.

"She probably lost interest," Luke said snidely. "Think she even feels that thing when he sticks it inside?"

They all burst out laughing. My body trembled with exhilaration. I peered down at my raging four-and-a-quarter inches. My boner was visibly throbbing, although I wasn't sure if they had noticed. I knew it wasn't the kind of thing thatactualstraight guys would want to stare at.

"He's ready for action," Dillon said teasingly. "We should probably give him some space to take care of business. I have a feeling it'll be short and quick."

I started to feel a sense of relief. I'd been overcome with lust to the point that I wasn't thinking clearly, but part of me knew I couldn't do anything with my friends. They'd never be able to look me in the eyes again.

THWACK!

Right as he was getting ready to turn to walk away, Dillon used the washcloth to playfully smack at my cock. The guys all let out hearty belly laughs as it flailed from the assault.

No. No. No! This can't be happening!It had been all I needed to cross the finish line.

The laughter quickly turned to shock as the first jet of cum sprayed from my tiny dick. The guys' eyes went wide as they watched in horror. Andy covered his mouth; Chad looked away enough so that he was only observing from the corner of his eye.

The next thirty seconds passed in complete silence. My body trembled as rope after rope of cum erupted from my slit. After the third spurt, Luke darted out of the showers. He looked like he was going to vomit.

Once I was finally done, I stumbled back toward the wall behind me. My knees had jellified. The water from the showerhead rained down on me.

"I don't know what the fuck that was," Andy said, "but Luke had the right idea. I'm out."

He hot-footed it towards to exit. Moments later, all of the other guys except for Dillon rushed out as well. I felt blissfully humiliated. I knew they'd always see me as a fag who'd shot my wad in front of them.Maybe it's what I needed?I thought.I can't keep pretending to be something I'm not.

"What was that, Truett?" Dillon asked with a smirk. "You a fag now, huh?"

I shook my head no. It was almost an involuntary reflex. After all, I'd spent my entire life thinking a fag was the worst thing a person could be.

"I think you're lying," he said. "Get down on your knees and suck my cock."

Dillon grabbed his deliciously thick dick by the root and shook it. Even though I could barely move, I still managed to drop to my knees. With the water raining down on me, I looked up at Dillon's defined abs and large pecs. I opened my mouth like a worshiper waiting to receive communion.

"I can't believe you were going toactuallydo it," Dillon said, letting go of his cock and racing towards the exit. "Guys, Truett just tried to suck me off! I had to practically push the faggot off of me!"

After about ten minutes, I finally left the shower. I knew it would be enough time for them all to have gotten dressed and departed. I returned home feeling like a freak. I realized that deep down that, after I'd accidentally shot my load, I'd wanted them to use me. I'd wanted them to make me suck them all off and then completely cover me with their jock spunk. I was becoming a whore, and I was starting to only be able to see the world through my new slut-colored glasses.

**************

On Monday morning, I realized that it was my final week at the Senator's office as an intern. I knew that the program wasn't long, but it still felt like I should have at least another month. I'd thought about asking if I could stay on, but I understood that there were strict rules for college students. They needed to give as many people as possible the opportunity to participate. I consoled myself with the fact that at least I was still going to be involved with the President's Youth Advisory Council.

I'd been going about my day as usual - answering calls, respond to emails, and sneaking away to the bathroom to finger my jock pussy while thinking about the President - when I got a text.

[I'm all alone tonight. No First Lady and Sammy is back in Manhattan. Come to the residence at 8 p.m.]

The rest of the day couldn't pass quickly enough. All I could think about was finally getting to show the President my tattoo in person. I'd sent him a picture of it the same day it had been done, but he'd never responded to the message. I needed him to see what I'd done for him. I was hungry for the half-cocked grin that I was certain would appear on his face when he saw his name inscribed on my ass.

I wasn't sure what to wear to the White House, but I had enough sense to know that I couldn't toss on my skimpiest running shorts and a tank top. In the end, I went with a classic, white button-up and a pair of dress pants. Of course, I wore my silky red thong below the outfit.

Stars were giddily combusting inside of me as the taxi approached the private entrance at the residence. Even though it hadn't been that long since I'd seen the President, it felt like being away from him for over a week had been a special form of torture.

"Tru," Tommy said, ushering me out of the car as he opened the door. "I've been sent to collect you."

Tru?I repeated in my mind. He'd said it with a playfulness I'd never heard from him. Even when he'd watched the President use me in the Senate Office Building bathroom, he'd still managed to sound more formal.

I didn't have time to say anything. As usual, he was walking so fast that I nearly had to sprint to keep up with him. There was something silly about it, since it was obvious that he'd never ditch me even if I slowed to a glacial pace.

We sped by the living area where I'd first met Samantha. He took me straight to the President's secret lair - the master bedroom. Without even knocking, he opened the door and ushered me inside.

"Mr. President," Tommy said. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Not now. Thank you, Tommy."

The President was standing next to a large dresser. A smirk appeared on his face as he looked me over. I took him in as well. He was dressed far more casually than I'd ever seen him before - expensive-looking pajama bottoms, a wife beater, and a forest green smoking jacket robe that extended to his knees. It made him look kind of like Hugh Hefner - just younger and sexier.

"Mr. President," I said, trying not to smile too broadly. I'd only been in the room for less than a minute, and I already felt like I was unraveling. I wanted to walk over and plant a sloppy kiss on his pouty lips. I wanted to crawl to him on hands and knees, begging to have him inside of me - in whatever way he desired. Still, it wasn't my place to make the first move. It was my job to wait.

"So... how was the practice at the bookstore?"

"It was... it was good. I'd never done anything like it before. Part of me still can't believe it happened. I hope the videos I sent were okay."

He seemingly ignored my comment. He began to lazily amble towards me. He had the look of a hunter in his eyes; he was stalking me out in the open. I had absolutely no desire to flee.

"That Snake's a crazy fella, huh?"

I thought about the man who'd tattooed the President's signature across my backside. He'd been friendly enough, even if he'd seemed rough around the edges. He'd clearly been spending too much time on the internet, though. He'd talked at great lengths about how he believed microwaves weren't safe to have in the home since they were causing people to develop psychosis. Given my position at the time - literally -- I'd humored him.

"Seems like he'd be fun at a party," I said. "Maybe not great to have as a family member."

"That's a quaint way of putting it." He perched on the edge of the king-sized bed, then devoured me with him vibrant blue eyes. "Show it to me."

My heart skipped a beat. I turned around so he could better see my juicy bubble butt. My nervous fingers swiftly undid my belt and pulled down my zipper. I lowered my dress pants so they were hanging just below my cheeks. I didn't bother with the thong; the dental floss strip of fabric was wedged so far up my ass that it wouldn't possibly obscure the tattoo.

"President Theodore M. Kelley," he said with a chuckle. "I think that might be the best I've ever seen my name look in print. Did it hurt?"

"Not really." I downplayed how uncomfortable it had been. I didn't need him to know that my eyes had welled up with tears when Snake had first started.

"Back up so I can take a closer look."

I shuffled back several feet so the President was close enough to touch me -- and that's exactly what he did. He reached out and jiggled my cheek.

"I've never seen my name bounce around quite like that. I think I like it."

I didn't reply. I just enjoyed the sensation of his thick fingers kneading into my flesh. I'd been dreaming of his touch since the last time we'd met in the same room.

"Don't move," he commanded.

Moments later, I felt the tip of his wet tongue tickling my ass cheek. I could feel it skating across my right bun. It was doing twirls and flourishing as it teased several inches of my flesh. I couldn't figure out what he was doing, but I loved it nonetheless.