Just because the sight of his cheeks bouncing as he walked was enough to seemingly hypnotize any guy lucky enough to catch a glimpse of his butt, didn’t mean he wanted to be the star of the sex jerk off fantasies of all the young man he knew. Just because his thick round plump little sissy boy butt was seemingly tailored made to be fucked by the biggest fattest dicks until his tight sensitive pussy was a sloppy gaping cum stuffed mess, didn’t mean that he wanted that.
Of course, that wasn’t to say that any of those things weren’t true, that he didn’t in fact secretly and shamefully enjoy the stares he got wherever he went, the wolf whistles and the dirty jokes and the sexual innuendos and borderline harassment that he seemed to illicit whenever in the company of those men who seemed to embody the type of masculinity that Julian entirely lacked.
It wasn’t like he didn’t love getting fat slutty ass fucked without mercy, that he didn’t like big strong tough manly hands grabbing his plump soft pillow ass cheeks, squeezing his butt like mounds of dough, or slapping his cheeks until they jiggled and were decorated with pink hand prints which made him whimper and his adorably small dicklet twitch with delight. He just didn’t like the idea that he was somehow nothing more than a dirty little butt bitch slut, he didn’t like that when his more masculine male peers and friends and colleague looked at him like hungry, and where always trying to woo him into their beds or trying ti convince him to be stop acting like a guy and agree to be their girlfriends.
We’re the offers tempting, of course they were, would he, almost without fail, at some point end up taking their cocks up his pussy, without a doubt, and often more than once, but that wasn’t all there was too him, was it. No of course it wasn’t. He was smart, and sensitive; thoughtful, intelligent and creative; an artist and poet and someone who should be viewed as more than just a piece of ass.
He would try and tell the boys about his poetry, about his big ideas, about all the deep and insightful thoughts he had about serious topics, and in their, they would listen, but he could tell they only did that because they liked him, and wanted him to he happy, and to like them not because they actually cared what he thought, or were impressed by his art, or saw him as a smart or creative, and the worst part was he found it hard to remember why he wanted them to respect him like that in the first place.
In those rare cases he found a guy who admired his art, who saw him as smart and sensitive and insightful, and some who wanted to date him for more than just his ass, he would inevitably become unable to hide his deepest darkest sluttiest urges, and act slutty enough that even the most sensitive guys couldn’t help but want to fuck his cute ditzy bimbo brains out.
He would pretend to not be affected by the sleazy pick up lines, by the aggressive forceful flirting, the groping and the teasing that were thrown at him, but his composure could only withstand so much before that slutty part of him jumped into the bed or all the guys who came onto him, letting them use him however they wanted, and enjoying every last second of it, acting like the total cock addicted little slut they all thought he was.
No matter how hard he tried, to be taken seriously, to be respected, to be treated like an equal, every real man, every big strong confident bold effortlessly superior male in Julian’s life, who he wanted to be friends with, colleagues with, equals with, all of them would come to see him as as an endearingly stupid, sweet, simple, silly, ditzy, little slut, not a fellow man, but a sweet little girl, the type of cutie their masculine instincts made them natural want to please, and pamper, and protect, and fuck until she is so deliriously with happiness she can’t even remember why she wanted to be respected in the first place.
Was that who he was, was that who he really was, and if so, would that be so bad. The answer to that question become harder to ask everyday, just as it became harder and harder to not spread her legs to every guy who gave her a alluring look or a suggestive compliment. All his friends, from Richard the big strong glasses wearing hotheaded rowdy goofball jock, to the stoic, aloof and intelligent Steven, to the edgy artsy loner Aidan, and every other guy who he called a friend, had spent as much time with their cocks inside of Julian than they did doing normal things guy friends did, unable to help themselves from drooling over Julian’s impossibly perfect ass, that was superior to every real girl they had ever met, some of them had seduced Julian. Others Julian’s being slutty had won them over, but all of them know viewed the smaller “male” not unlike they would a girlfriend, or are the very least of female friend whom they looked out for and weren’t shy about showing affection to.
Julian’s colleagues at university, despite his attempts to wow them with his big ideas, invariably all ended up being more focused on the way Julian’s pussy sucked in even the biggest cocks with ease, and the adorable girly noises he would make when they were underneath them. Even his coworkers, and his boss, insisted of treating him as team member, saw him almost like a adorable little cheerleader, there to keep up morale and not to do any real work, never giving him any real tasks or work besides looking pretty, and bending over in the break room. No matter what Julian did, it seemed that he was destined to always be a slut, unable to resist letting any man use his fat jiggly ass as a cum dump, and it was only a matter of time until he stopped being able to even act like the prospect didn’t excite him anymore.
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