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TV SHOW! By Throne (17 Pages)
🕑 Added 2020-04-22 23:30:08 +0000 UTCTV SHOW!
By Throne
© 2019-2020 QoS Comix All Rights Reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to Devinwhitegurl@gmail.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
***DEVIN DICKIE NOTE***
All characters are OVER 18 years of AGE! This is a bullying fantasy and not real. The acts in the following written work are only consensual sexual choices and fantasy humiliation scenarios.
Bullying is NOT OKAY and If you or someone you know is being bullied, please alert the authorities.
TV SHOW
by Throne
Sweeping out from between the glittering golden curtains it's Sammy Star, your genial host. He flashes his trademark radiant smile and does that little dance step he always performs just before he slips into the plastic bucket-chair in the center of the carpeted dais. Once he's seated he give the camera a confidential look, as if he's about to reveal something private.
"Tonight," Sammy says, managing to speak loudly while still seeming subdued, "I'm going to talk to women who have -- shall we say -- changed the look and feel of their marriages by having their husbands altered in a certain way." He pauses for a few seconds to let curious viewers wonder exactly what sort of modification he's referring to. Then he leans forward ever so slightly and strokes the wide lapel of his pinstriped jacket. "Wives who have brought their men into line, to say the least, by giving them -- " He obviously relishes these hesitations. His voice lowers just slightly. " -- penis reductions," he concludes, somewhere between shocked and interested. He licks his lips. "And the first of those wives is Mandy. No last names please," he finishes, using one of his catchphrases.
The camera swings to his left to reveal to the home viewers a striking young woman in a slinky red dress. She says, "Hello, Sammy. I'm so glad to be here tonight to talk about... well... what I had to have done to my hubby Glen."
Camera back on Sammy. His eyebrows go up. "You said it was what you HAD to have done, referring to having his penis trimmed down. Do you mean that it's HIS fault that you did it. That he drove you to what some might call an extreme measure?"
"Definitely, it's Glen's fault. I mean he was always pestering me for sex. And drinking beer. One bottle a night and sometimes even two. Trying to be some sort of macho pig."
"Oh my. Toxic masculinity. And how did you hear about this solution to having a husband like that?"
"I spotted something on-line, Sammy, and then did a bit of research."
"That's fascinating, Mandy," he exclaims, even though it isn't.
She goes on, "I found a clinic not far from where we live and convinced him they would increase his sex drive and make him a better lover."
"Is that true?"
"Well, his sex drive was increased because he ended up getting less of it. And it did make him better in bed because, when his dick got really short, he had to learn to use his tongue." She looked dreamy for a moment.
"I see," Sammy said profoundly. His smooth brow furrowed ever so slightly. "Could you go into more detail?"
"Well," she brushed back her long blond hair from beside her face. "I mean, once his pecker was reduced from six inches to two, and we're talking about when it's hard, I certainly didn't want to have stick-it-in sex..."
"You mean penetrative intercourse."
"Okay. Whatever. But I didn't want that pee-wee version of a cock inside me. So all of a sudden he wasn't getting his twice a week fun sessions. And since he couldn't get me off with the little stub he was left with, I made him start to eat my pussy." In sudden embarrassment she clapped her hand over his mouth. "Oh. Am I allowed to say that?"
"It's fine, darling. My show is available only on computers, and we have very clear notices about what the minimum age to watch it is."
"That's good," she told him. "Because now Glen's whole sex life is about me teasing him until he gets really worked up, and then not letting him have what you said -- penetrating inner course -- and that's why he has to lick me down there, between my legs. His dick isn't allowed in my pussy but his tongue is there all the time." She giggled girlishly.
"And now," Sammy said with added gravity, "let's find out how Glen feels about this."
Mandy interjected, "I call him Glenda now."
The camera jumped sharply to a third chair where there was a shamefaced man wearing nothing but a short negligee. His hair fell over the tops of his ears and halfway down his forehead, not very long but obviously treated with some body-increasing product that also had holding power, with the end result that it looked like he'd been to a beauty parlor. There was light make-up on his face, mainly blush for his cheeks and pink gloss on his lips. A touch of liquid liner at the outside of each eye created a slightly feline appearance. He had his hands together in his lap and his knees pressed firmly against each other.
"So, Glenda," Sammy said, separating the two syllables of the name more than needed, "is all of this something you like? Crave? Delight in?"
"Um. Actually, no, Sammy," the feminized husband answered in a soft voice. "I really wish Mandy hadn't had me... err... altered this way. It's really hard to think of myself as a man since she got me the operation."
Sammy swiveled his head toward his viewers and fixed them with a piercing stare. "This husband acts like he doesn't enjoy his new role in their marriage, his changed identity, and the fact that his bride keeps him horny." Ignoring Glen for the moment he inquired of Mandy, "You do make sure he never gets too much relief, don't you, dear?"
"Oh yes," she said brightly. "The less he gets to cum, the more effort he puts into slurping my pussy."
"I see." Sammy put on his stock thoughtful expression. "And you use the term 'slurping' because..."
"It's just that, that's what he does. You know, because he makes a lot of spit and my twat gets really wet all by itself besides." She pursed her lips as if not sure she had been clear. "Right?"
"I do believe I know what you mean, Mandy." Sammy nodded. He leered and added, "And I'm confident that my audience members understand, too."
A second camera went in for a close-up of Glen, who was visibly squirming in his seat. It held the shot while Sammy rose and approached him with a hand mike from a small table next to his own chair. He shoved the phallic object toward Glen's started face.
More loudly than necessary, Sammy questioned, "Is all that true, Glenda? And would you like to show us what's left of your dingus?"
Taken off guard by the double question, the bedwear-dressed spouse trembled as he tried to form coherent words. Sammy held him by the bare arm and coaxed him onto his feet. The host took the hem of the short nightie and raised it slightly, tantalizing the morbidly curious viewers. He nodded toward the bottom of the filmy garment and Glen understood what was expected of him. The husband got his index finger and thumb on the hem to raise it with painful slowness. The natural blush that rose on Glen's cheeks was deeper than the cosmetic one that had been applied in the make-up chair. The camera zoomed slowly back and angled gradually downward until it revealed a tight view of what had once been a proud male member but was now diminished to a mere nubbin. His hairless thighs rubbed nervously against each other as he whimpered loudly enough for the sound to be picked up and transmitted.
"There it is," Sammy observed. Then he added, "Or maybe I should say 'There it isn't'." From Glen he wanted to know, "So Glenda, does having half a prick -- or more like a third -- make you easier to boss around? Does being less than a man lead automatically to being a sissy? And honestly, do you secretly get off on this set-up? Is that why you forced your wife to do this to you? Were you silently hoping that Mandy would turn you into a sexual cripple so you could become an oral slave to her puss? Be honest, Glenda."
The barrage of questions was too much for Glen. He clutched his hands together and squeezed his bent-double arms against his sides, tucking in his chin and biting his lips. The total impression of his body language was that he wanted to somehow vanish into himself. Before he could even begin to recover, Sammy swung around and pointed to where the halves of the curtain met.
"Let's meet our next happily married couple," he suggested with enthusiasm.
One side of the curtain was pushed out of the way by a tall buxom woman in a clinging fishnet body stocking. What she wore was designed to appear obscene at a glance but reveal upon closer examination to be artfully covering her most private areas. Shiny black boots reached almost to her knees. She shook back her flowing raven locks and smiled more with one side of her mouth than the other. As she advanced everyone could see that she held a leash. From between the curtain halves, at the other end of the length of leather, walked a slim figure with a hairless body. He had minimally styled hair and limited cosmetics, like the other husband, and wore only a brief, gold satin vest, and matching shorts. The latter garment had a cut-out in the front that left exposed his shortened penis, reduced from seven inches to two and a fraction.
Sammy asked the woman, "And who are you, my lovely?"
She patted her mane of dark glossy hair and declared, "I'm Janelle." Giving a contemptuous sneer to her slave she added, "And this is my husband Trent, though I prefer to call him Trixie."
The host chuckled. "And do you find, like Mandy does, that a penis reduction makes him a better spouse?"
"Oh yeah. As soon as he got back from the clinic where I took him, after he was healed and all, I snapped my fingers and pointed to my boots. In fact, they were the same pair I'm wearing now. He got right down and started to kiss them. Then I held out a pair of panties. He didn't want to wear them. His face got all boo-hoo looking. But he didn't give me any backtalk. They were nice panties. Bikini style. Red. With a tiny opening in the crotch, with elastic around it. He got them onto his smooth legs -- the clinic did a permanent hair removal all over his body -- and worked them over his hips. Then he got the sad remains of his cock through the hole in the front. The elastic kept it from slipping back inside. That's when I made him play with his itty bitty boy-part."
"And then...?" Sammy inquired expectantly.
"It was really funny. What they did at the clinic, beside turning him from a regular into a pint size, made it so he couldn't shoot his spunk. He tugged and yanked and choked it, but there was no squirt at the end."
"So can he ejaculate at all?""
"He can, but only with my help. Like when I wear a strap-on."
"Ouch," Sammy said with a pained expression. "I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of that."
"Try it," Janelle urged. "You might like it."
"No thanks," the host reiterated. "I'd rather give than receive. But not to a sissy like your Trixie."
"Ha!" The dark-haired woman flashed that lopsided smile again. "Maybe you could do it with me, regular style, and we'd make the poor sap watch. I love cuckolding my chump of a husband. My boyfriend is a real stallion."
"So do you have any limits on what you'd do to Trixie? Or make him do?"
"I guess the one thing I wouldn't do would be to have the rest of her prick removed. I mean, half the fun is teasing her and getting her horny, then watching and listening while she begs and whines for some relief -- which she almost never gets. And when she does, it's always while she's stuffed full of my rubber cock, or from something else just as bad." She looked thoughtful before saying, "And as far as what I'd make the little twerp do... " She shrugged. "... I can't think of anything that'd be too much."
"So," Sammy mused, "if I were to want you to..." He pursed his lips. "... have Trixie get into a make-out session with Glenda over there, that would be all right with you? You wouldn't be worried about permanently reprogramming your sissy's mind? Maybe making him really want to be with another sissy sister?"
Janelle laughed soundlessly. "That'd be fine. It'd be a hoot to have him getting all hungry for a halfway cock like his own. And then having two sissies who couldn't get their rocks off."
Sammy turned to Mandy. "And how about you, sugar?"
As if this exchange hadn't been rehearsed, Mandy put her fingers to her softly rounded chin and turned her eyes upward. She gave a convincing performance of never having had the topic discussed before, even thought it had all been worked out backstage hours ago. The husbands also appeared convincingly surprised by the subject. The difference was that they hadn't been privy to that conversation and actually were startled to have the possibility broached. The idea of the two of them being coerced into a necking session and possibly something more was unwelcome. They both, despite everything that had been done to them, still thought of themselves as straight men.
"That's interesting," Sammy decided. "Because we just happen to have a bed handy for just such a scene. That is, we have it if the prop men remembered to roll it out behind the curtain."
That let his many watchers know that this had been worked out in advance, though it still was still evident that the husbands were not in on the scripted spontaneity. As the curtain parted everyone saw an oversized bed with a thick mattress and sheets but no covers. The sheets were turned down and two super-size pillows were all fluffed up and positioned at the padded headboard.
"All right, ladies," Sammy announced. "Time to get your pansy husbands in position. I think Trixie should lose her shorts." He watched approvingly as Trent got naked from the waist down. Then the host said, "That's perfect in case Glenda wants to lick her puny balls. Tell me, Janelle, did the clinic make them so small?"
"Nah, they were always measly little things. Now they're just the right size to go with his shrimp dick."
"An ideal match," Sammy agreed as he watched the two husbands move reluctantly toward the spacious bed. "I can't wait to see this pair of lovers in action."
The wives bullied their men onto the mattress. The guys knelt there, in the middle, facing each other.
"Go on then," said Mandy. "Let's see a kiss, girls."
They leaned toward each other to exchange a modest peck.
"No way," Janelle complained. "You've seen how my lover kisses me when we make you stand alongside the bed."
"Same with you, Glenda," Mandy scolded. "I get a better kiss than that when my man walks in the door. Let's see a solid lip-lock, you two wusses."
The husbands eyed each other sadly as they understood that this new indignity was not going to be withdrawn before it went any further. Glen put his hands on Trent's bare shoulders, where the vest didn't cover. Trent got is fingers on Glen's waist, feeling warm skin through the thin material of the nightie. With deep trepidation they brought their mouths closer and closer, lips parting at the last second, meeting, tongues extending to invade waiting spaces and explore. The guys were sickened by what they were being made to do. Their wives were wildly amused. They made them withdraw just enough that their flicking tongues were visible. Sammy thought it was marvelous, both personally and because it would goose the ratings to new and previously unheard of levels. His viewers had seen enough busty women, supposedly fighting over the same guy, rip off each other's breakaway tops and slam against each other with their bounteous boobs compressed between their bodies. This was reality TV at it's best, no matter what percentage of it was faked. In the case of these unwilling sissies however, at this moment it really was real.
The women moved nearer to hiss instructions to their puppet spouses. The males obediently fingered each other's nipples, bit each other's necks, and licked each other's tummies. From that last act they had to move on to falling onto their sides, assuming a hip-and-shoulder-on-the-mattress 69 position, and performing the previously mentioned act of licking balls. An overhead camera revealed that their scrotums were small and underfilled enough that they could easily each take the other's completely into their mouths for some cautious sucking. Even though they weren't gay, they hadn't been granted release for quite a while (the extension of their involuntary abstinence encouraged by Sammy when first he booked their brides on his program), so any sort of intimate contact could lead to erections. In this case it readily did.
The husbands' mini-dicks were as short hard as they had been soft, and only slightly thicker. It was comical to see them when the cameras moved in for extreme close-up shots. After the home audience had gotten a good view of those undersized organs, the wives commanded their pansies to commence sucking. The husband's gagged from revulsion, certainly not from the lengths of what they were forced to service. At the same time, they became overstimulated and ceded much of the limited control they had previously had.
All at once they were suctioning furiously on what was in their pinkly lip-glossed mouths. They were desperate to gain relief, to be pushed into orgasms, but whatever had been done to them at the same time their members were being abbreviated, still made it impossible for them to easily finish what they had been made to start.
Their brides let them go on until both sissy men were sobbing with frustrated need. Then the women each purred the same suggestion to their helpless victims.
"Put your fingers in his butt, Glenda. That'll get him off. But don't stop sucking."
"Finger-bang his ass, Trixie. And don't let up on the lips and tongue action. If you make him pop his cork, he'll do the same for you. That's one of the rules of queer-boy partying."
The males moaned and writhed, hating every second of this new indignity, even as they used their digits to enter each other. Up to the first knuckle, second, and third. One finger, two, and finally three. Always so close to that elusive big finish yet never quite attaining it. They groaned and sniffled and even shed a few tears. Then they simultaneously sensed that success was within reach. They doubled their efforts, sucking harder and frigging faster. Yes, it was going to happen. They were dimly cognizant that this would be the biggest humiliation of all. Ejaculation equaled mortification.
Then they were spurting into each other's mouths, coating tongues, making salty slime slide down throats. It was glorious. It was disgraceful. As their passions waned, their shame grew. The cameramen discretely lowered glass panels in front of their lenses. They moved the cameras closer.
"All right, you simpering sissy sisters," Mandy snapped at them. "Up on your knees."
"Each of you face a camera," Janelle barked. "Now."
So used to obeying were the defeated men that they did as they were told instantly. Sammy said slyly that it would be a terrific way to end the show if they kissed the audience goodbye. The husbands understood what he wanted and stretched their slim necks so they could reach the waiting targets. They kissed the glass plates in front of each lens, wiggled the tips of their tongues against them, and withdrew, to leave messy creamy lip prints. It definitely was a fitting finish for this episode of Sammy's on-line TV show. And now it was a TV program in more than one sense.
Everyone heard the host's final remarks. "This has been such a smashing success that I'm going to invite these exhibitionist sissies back next time so we can see what ELSE they and their charming wives will have for us. I'm thinking girly costumes, spanking implements, and maybe even some kinky role playing. That'll make Sammy Star smile," he began his regular closing line, "and I know you'll smile along with me."
Everybody in front of the cameras was doing just that... except the stunned and anxious husbands. Now they'd have an entire week to dread what might happen to them next time on the SMILING SAMMY STAR SHOW.
