The Corn Muffin Stomp Video

I stomped this corn muffin into a doughy paste under my Timberland boots.  

Here are some stills from the video.  

Click to enlarge

FULL VIDEO BELOW

THE SHAFTS

This story was told to me by a friend who no longer works in the industry.

WARNING: Contains disturbing imagery.

A friend of mine was working in a high end boutique that sold men’s and women’s clothes.  The women’s line was very popular, but as the men’s line grew, the designer was nominated for a prestigious award.

To celebrate this milestone, the store would throw a big, lavish party.  A caterer was brought in and the main floor was completely re-done.  Eight white male mannequins would be dressed up and displayed on the floor during the party.

Because the store did not yet have its own dedicated men’s shoes, eight pairs of brand new boots were delivered.  These were no ordinary boots.  These were black Wesco Boss engineer boots with lug soles.  

As the interns opened the boxes, the powerful smell of new leather filled the room.  My friend wondered if he might be able to get a pair of these hot boots when the whole affair was over.  One of the boots dropped onto the floor and made the kind of loud, masculine thud only a boot can make.  He had to turn away because he was getting an erection.  

One of the girls assigned to dress the mannequins yelled out “Oh, no.  We have a problem!”  It turned out that the metal bases for these mannequins had poles that stuck upward and were inserted into matching holes in the right ankle of each mannequin.  This meant that the boots could not be used while still allowing them to stand upright.  The boot shafts were in the way.  (The female mannequins had poles that were inserted into the butt cheeks of the mannequins, easily allowing for any type of shoe or boot - how sexist is that?)

With only a few hours before the start of the party and no time to seek out alternate footwear, the decision was made: cut the shafts of the boots down to the ankle to allow the metal support rod to be inserted.

My friend watched in horror as the mutilation began in earnest.  Armed with scissors and box cutters, the evil girls reduced eight beautiful pairs of new Wesco boots to unwearable garbage right before his eyes.

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THE BASEMENT - A Gay Erotic Short Story

Lester insults Sam, the intimidating, 265lb moving man at the furniture store where they work. After Sam demands money in exchange for forgiveness, Lester agrees, but only if Sam will walk on him in his Timberland work boots to “even things out.”

After some initial resistance, Sam agrees, but quickly turns the tables on Lester. What should have been a two minute session snowballs into a brutal stomping in Sam’s windowless basement.

This 4,500 word erotic boot fetish story includes boot-related violence, sexual language and profanity.


EXCERPT

I lay on the cold tile floor as he approaches. I look up as he stands near my head. He brings the dirty boot over my face. I can see all sorts of crud and garbage stuck in the treads. This man does not watch where he is walking. He grunts as he happily steps on my face and balances all 265lbs on one boot. He bounces and grunts, adding even more weight. The other boot hovers in the air and then lands on my chest, digging in. I can hear him muttering to himself as he begins a slow, heavy grinding of both boots. My head and chest burn from the friction of his monstrous treads and there’s nothing I can do about it. The grinding intensifies as he twists his treads faster and harder. The low ceiling means he can add a ton more weight. He grunts and growls and I think he’s getting aroused by this.

Just when I think I’m going to pass out, he falls back onto the squeaky old couch and exhales. His boots lift up, then drop back down onto me.

“I love doin this.” He marches them on my gut and digs the heels in.

The boots find a comfortable spot on my chest and abdomen as he goes back to watching the basketball game. It gets quiet and I start to wonder if that’s it. The phone rings and big Sam stands up on me, the suddenness of the weight is awesome. I assume he’s going to step over my head, but he deliberately stomps in my face, heavy, all his weight, treads digging in and grinding me beneath on his way to answer the ringing phone in the kitchen. I try to listen to his phone call, but I can’t make out any words. He comes back and walks heavily onto my head and chest again. He plops down on the sofa and goes back to watching TV.

Buy THE BASEMENT for Amazon Kindle here