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Stories and artwork dedicated to the beauty of femboys in submission
Peter knew there’d be a snipe hunt. His older brother Paul had told him as much. “They will make you dress funny for the snipe hunt,” Paul had said. “It’s an initiation, so of course they want to humiliate you. But it won’t be so bad. Follow their instructions to the letter, do whatever they say, and you’ll be fine. It’ll all be worth it in the end. Eta Theta Chi is the best damn fraternity at the university, and once you’re accepted, they’ll really take care of you.”
That was what his brother had said, and Peter had taken him at his word. But when he’d asked his brother what the snipe hunt was, Paul had just smiled, and said it was a surprise. So Peter had looked it up on the internet. It seemed snipe hunts were a fairly common form of initiation, and involved sending the newbies out looking for creatures that don’t really exist. There were apparently numerous variations on the theme, but it was essentially a wild goose chase without any geese. Peter imagined all the young pledges running around the campus in silly costumes, looking foolish. Not something to look forward to, but he’d survive.
It had been a little disconcerting when the instructions he’d received from Eta Theta Chi had included shaving himself from the neck down, but he’d done it, meticulously. He’d been shocked and intrigued at how sensitive the skin of his pubis was when he’d shaved all the hair off, and that had led to… well, anyway, he’d done it. Why he needed to shave everything for the initiation he couldn’t imagine, but he knew he’d find out soon enough.
There were twenty-one other pledges besides him. Once they were all in the same room together, Peter began to notice a disturbing physical similarity between them. Every one of the pledges was just like him. They were all freshmen, of course, and about 19 or 20 years old. They were all small in stature and slight of build. And most pronounced of all, they all had at least a somewhat feminine manner about them.
Peter had always been a bit girly. He’d been teased and tormented all through school, described as “gay” and “femmy” and called “Fag-boy” and worse by the other kids. They weren’t wrong, Peter was gay, and he’d sucked a few cocks in high school. But he’d never gone any farther than that, never had a boyfriend, and he’d never realized that there were other boys like him, boys who looked and acted more like girls, until he found himself in that room with the twenty-one other pledges.
Many of the others looked like they had fully embraced their girliness. Some were so pretty, he thought they must be taking hormones. They wore make-up, their hair was longer than boys commonly wore it, and they didn’t try to hide their feminine mannerisms the way Peter did. He couldn’t help admiring their boldness.
But Peter didn’t know what to make of the fact that all of them were femboys like him. His brother Paul hadn’t mentioned anything about this. Was Eta Theta Chi a gay fraternity? Were all its members gay? Why wouldn’t Paul have mentioned that?
His ruminations were interrupted when a door opened, and a man called out a name. “Alex!”
A dark-haired boy got up and nervously approached the door. He was led into the room beyond, and the door closed. Five minutes later, the door opened again, and the name “Clive” was called. One by one, in alphabetical order, each of the pledges was called into the other room.
When Peter’s turn came, he was ushered into a small room with four upperclassmen and a row of plastic bins with clothes in them. He was told to undress, and as he did they asked him his shoe size. He told them, and they selected a bin for him. Into it went his own clothes, and out of it came his initiation costume. First he had to put on a pair of stockings. They had rubberized bands at the top that kept them from sliding down his legs. Then he got a pair of red high-heeled pumps, with Velcro straps that went around his ankles to keep the shoes on. The heel was fully five inches tall, and when he stood up in them it felt like he was wearing stilts.
Then came a red jacket that zipped up the back. It had Buster Brown style brass buttons down the front, a high collar and long sleeves. As they zipped him into it, he looked down at himself, thinking he looked like an old-fashioned bellhop, or perhaps an organ-grinder’s monkey. But he didn’t notice there were straps attached to the back until the guys who were dressing him folded his arms together at the small of his back and fastened them there with the straps. Suddenly Peter was helpless, his arms bound together behind him. He looked around, wide-eyed, but the upperclassmen were straight-faced and businesslike. Peter was still bare from the waist down, his pale round bottom exposed, his already-small penis shrunken even more in embarrassment. He looked down into the bin, but there were no more costume pieces.
Two of the upperclassmen chuckled at the question. A third answered. “There are no pants. That’s the whole outfit! Off you go now!” He gave Peter a smack on his naked bottom-cheek to send him on his way, while another guy ushered him through the other door.
Peter stumbled and nearly fell, but they caught him and kept him upright until he was through the door. It closed behind him, and he looked around, feeling frightened and confused. He was in a huge room, elegantly furnished in an old-world style. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the walls were decorated with dark wood crown molding and wainscoting. Tall bookcases held hundreds of books, and a vast rug covered most of the hardwood floor. Peter had never been in a room like this in his life.
The other pledges had been lined up in an orderly row, all their naked butts neatly displayed from Peter’s perspective. A smiling upperclassman beckoned him over to join the line-up. Peter walked carefully but awkwardly, managing not to fall over as he tried to get used to walking in the high-heeled shoes. When he arrived at his designated place in line, he noticed that they were facing a crowd of men. There must have been at least thirty guys, all casually dressed, lounging on couches and chairs, many standing. Most of them seemed to be in their upper twenties or thirties, some in their forties. Only a few of them looked like they were actually still students, upperclassmen to the freshmen pledges.
The row of pledges were lined up for their inspection, and they weren’t shy about looking. There was a constant hubbub of commentary and laughter from them as they assessed the row of pants-less femboys before them.
Peter had never felt so naked, or so humiliated. Nothing his brother Paul had said about this initiation had prepared him in any way for this. He was on display with no pants on, his tiny penis exposed for the consideration of these strangers. He felt his cheeks burning in embarrassment.
He looked down the line of pledges, and most of them were blushing, fidgeting nervously, their eyes downcast. All were just as exposed as he was, a row of naked penises of all shapes and sizes, all the more naked since every crotch had been shaved clean. He noted that most of the penises on display were smaller than average, but that fact didn’t seem to lessen his own embarrassment. There were a few of the organs in the row that were standing erect, somehow excited by the scrutiny of the older men, and their owners were blushing even redder than the rest. Peter’s own penis was, if anything, shrinking, his balls drawn up into a tight little sphere behind it. He was certain he had the smallest penis in the row.
Peter had to stand there a long time, enduring the humiliation of this sordid ritual. Every five minutes or so another bewildered pledge joined the line-up, until all twenty-two of them were on display. This was certainly not the initiation ceremony that Peter had been led to expect. He couldn’t imagine how the snipe hunt was going to play out, when all the pledges had no pants on. Surely they weren’t expected to go outside and hunt for snipes like this!
Once all the pledges were lined up, the remaining fraternity members joined the crowd, and the fraternity president stepped forward. “Welcome, pledges!” he said with a smile, his eyes scanning the row of red-faced femboys. “You have all requested the honor of joining the prestigious order of Eta Theta Chi, the finest and most exclusive fraternity in the state. Many freshmen applied to join us, but only you twenty-two young lads were chosen, using a system of measure so arcane that I won’t even attempt to explain it to you.”
This brought a roar of laughter from the fraternity members. Peter looked down the row of fresh-faced femboys, and it occurred to him that maybe the system wasn’t quite so arcane after all.
“You are all about to undergo a final test, something we call the ‘Great Snipe Hunt.’ Based on your performance during this test, our esteemed board of elite fraternity members and alumni will decide which of you will be chosen to join our fraternity. As you may have heard, the academic support we offer our members is unparalleled, and your association with Eta Theta Chi is very likely to last long after you’ve graduated and moved on, as it has for many you see before you here.”
The president took a stopwatch out of his pocket, and made a show of setting it. “As tradition dictates,” he said, his smile widening into a grin, “you will be given a one-minute head start. On my mark…” He punched the button on the stopwatch. “Go, snipes! Flee as best you can!”
There was a sudden clatter of high heels as most of the pledges began making their escape. Some turned and ran, some hobbled, some shuffled, stumbled or wobbled, each according to their degree of skill at wearing high-heeled pumps. Some, Peter among them, stood looking around in confusion.
“Wait,” said Peter. “We’re the snipes?”
“Yup,” the president confirmed with a chuckle. “Better get going!”
Peter turned and headed for the broad archway that led to the rest of the sprawling old mansion that was Eta Theta Chi’s fraternity house, his thoughts whirling. He was generally agile and light on his feet, but he’d never tried to run with heels on before, and he was a bit wobbly.
In the next room, he saw pledges heading in every direction. A wide grand staircase on his right led to the second and third floors, and the clattering of heels from above told him that many of the pledges had gone that way. He began plodding up the steps, leaning against the railing in case he lost his balance. He wasn’t even to the top of the stairs yet when he heard the president’s voice call out from below.
“That’s it, we’re coming to get you!”
Hurrying, Peter made it to the second floor hallway. It was wide and long, and had many doors. Bare-bottomed pledges were clomping around at random looking for hiding places, desperation on their faces. Some seemed to have a better idea of what was going on than others, so when Peter saw their fear it doubled his own anxiety. He didn’t know what happened when a snipe got caught, but he’d seen some expressions on some of the hunters’ faces that could only be interpreted as lust. Considering what the snipes were wearing, or rather, not wearing, he had a growing suspicion.
Peter stumbled down the hall, passing one boy who hobbled even more slowly than he did, and made it to a small door that looked like a linen closet. Turning his back to it so he could grab the knob with his bound hands, he managed to get it open. There was a short blonde-haired pledge already inside the cramped space, pressed up against the shelves.
“No room!” said the pledge breathlessly. “Find another spot!”
Peter bumped the door closed again with his butt and continued down the hall. He heard the thunder of feet pounding up the stairs, and made it to an open doorway just as the hunters gained the top of the steps. He backed inside the darkened bedroom, tripped on a rug and fell, fortunately landing on the bed.
Through the open door he could see the slowly-hobbling pledge he’d passed making his wobbling way down the hall. But as the sound of running feet overtook him he turned to look back, and let out a cry as one of the hunters laughingly grappled with him. The casually-dressed man pushed his prey to the floor, face-down, and landed on top of him, pinning him in place. The trapped pledge struggled beneath him, but it was futile. The man, still laughing with excitement, pushed the pledge’s legs apart, and slipped a hand between his naked buttocks, eliciting a yelp and even more energetic struggling.
While this was going on, half a dozen more hunters ran down the hall past the room Peter was in. He was hidden only by darkness, and he realized it wouldn’t be long before someone checked this room. He looked around, and the only possible hiding places he saw were a closet and behind the bed. It seemed so futile to try to hide from the lustful hunters! It was a game of hide-and-seek, and of course the hunters knew where all the hiding places were. He might as well lie down on the bed and wait. But when he heard another group of them coming down the hall, his fear stirred him to action.
He rose to his feet and moved behind the door just in time, as a snipe-hunter stuck his head into the dark room, glanced around, and then ran on down the hall. From behind the door, Peter could see through the crack between the door and the frame, and watch the drama playing out in the hallway. The hunter still had the pledge pinned beneath him, and his hands were busy between the boy’s spread thighs. After a minute he lifted his jeans-clad hips for a moment, and Peter saw his erect cock, glistening with lube. He scooted up a few inches, then lowered himself onto the pinned pledge once more, guiding his insertion with one hand. His hips undulated, and the femboy cried out in pain. The man only laughed again, and settled more comfortably in place. His hips began to rock, drawing deep groans from the pinned and penetrated pledge.
As Peter watched in horror and fascination his fellow pledge being sodomized, a man came into his room, flipped on the light, and moved quickly to the closet. He opened it suddenly, drawing a surprised yelp from inside. Laughing, he reached into the closet and pulled out a cute dark-haired femboy who’d been hiding there. The boy struggled briefly, then gave in with a sigh. The man pressed him against the wall, holding him there easily with one hand while his other hand explored between the femboy’s thighs. The boy gasped, then after a few moments began to whimper helplessly. Peter watched through the crack as the man teased the femboy’s cock to rigidity. In less than a minute the captured pledge was panting with desire. The man laughed at him, told him he was ‘easy,’ and then he grasped him firmly by his erection and led him out of the room.
Peter was alone in the room again, unless there was another pledge hiding behind the bed. Outside the room he could hear the sounds of pursuit, the victorious cries of capture, and the agonized groans of the vanquished. The pledge that was being fucked in the hallway right outside his room was becoming more vocal as the fucking became more energetic.
Peter considered seeking a better hiding place, but he knew the moment he left this room he’d be spotted and run down. Then there was a scuffling sound and a clatter of high heels right outside, and someone moved into the room. Peter heard a body flop onto the bed, then a creak as another one joined it. There was a rustling of fabric, more creaks from the bedsprings, the sounds of a brief struggle. There was a surprised yelp, followed by a series of whimpers. Heavy breathing, another creak, more whimpers. A soft laugh.
Peter couldn’t resist peeking around the door to see what was happening only a few feet away. A red-jacketed femboy was pinned on his back by a much larger man, his legs drawn up and pinned under the man’s arms while the man lubed up his impressively large cock. Peter recognized the tousled blonde hair of the pledge who had been hiding in the linen closet. The femboy tossed his head from side to side, whimpering, as his captor lowered himself into position. The boy paused, eyes widening as he spotted Peter hiding behind the door, but a moment later the man began pushing his cock into him, and the boy’s face contorted as he cried out in pain.
Peter watched, riveted, as the blonde femboy arched and squirmed, groaning helplessly as the cock sank deeper into him. His legs were folded more tightly against his shoulders as the man’s weight settled on top of him, his slender calves hooked over the man’s shoulders, his bright red pumps kicking uselessly in the air as the last inch of cock disappearing inside him. The femboy was pinned and skewered, and too breathless to do more than gasp for air again and again. The man wrapped his muscular arms around the small femboy, planting his knees for better leverage and settling in for a good solid fucking.
Peter couldn’t look away as the man began to thrust, the helpless femboy emitting desperate, breathless cries with each surge of the man’s hips. He watched as the man set his rhythm, each stroke pressing his cock in as far as it could go. The blonde femboy was folded and pinned so tightly there was nothing he could do but take it, the only movement he was capable of was to toss his blonde-curled head from side to side.
It went on like that for many long minutes, a steady, devastating in-out, in-out, in-out. Several times, snipe-hunters came to the door, saw the room was being used, and moved on. Finally the rhythm was broken, the man pausing, his cock buried deep inside the boy.
“Beg me to fuck you harder,” said the man in a harsh whisper.
“Do it,” the man demanded. “I want to hear you beg.”
“I don’t want you to fuck me harder,” said the femboy in a pathetic, whining voice.
“I think you do,” said the man. “Come on, beg me.”
“Yes you can. Just say the words.”
There was a long pause, then; “Please fuck me harder,” said the boy softly.
“Say it better,” said the man. “Say it with feeling. Like you mean it. Come on!”
“P-please, fuck me harder,” said the femboy, slightly louder.
“Better than that!” said the man. “Make me believe you want it! Come on, beg!”
“Please, fuck me harder! Please…” the boy pleaded.
“Please fuck me harder… I-I want you to fuck me harder… please… please… please…”
Now the begging began to sound real, and as he said ‘please’ over and over, there was a sincere urgency to the begging.
“Okay,” said the man, and gripping the femboy more tightly in his powerful arms, he suddenly launched an assault on the femboy’s helpless bowels, hammering his cock into him brutally and rapidly. The fembo
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