The Freaks of Oz

By Max Swan

Red, a law student, has recently come out as a Gay man, and while hoping his life would be better out of the closet he found the vile size queens of the Gay Community where he lived made it difficult for him to meet any decent men. You see Red has a micropenis. One day he meets a strange man called Chas Zorko who offers him a part time job like none other. A freak show performer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GW Enterprises Publishing Company
• Release date: May 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781311892102

Max Swan

Max started writing under the pseudonym of Horrorotica as he envisaged himself writing erotic horror but then discovered he had a lot to draw on in his own life as a man with a small penis. Many of the scenarios in his SPH books are based on his own experiences, which makes them even more thrilling to read for those who love this genre/niche.

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The Freaks of Oz!

Copyright 2016

GW Enterprises Publishing Company

Author: Max Swan (Horrorotica)

Published at Smashwords.

ISBN: 9781311892102

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Disclaimer

This eBook contains adults only erotica. All human characters in this story are over eighteen, and any similarities to real people or real life situations is purely coincidental and unintended. This eBook is 100% fiction, none of this ever happened.

Credits

The image on the cover of this eBook comes from freeimages.com and used with permission. Titles and photo manipulations done by Greg B and used with permission.

Table of Contents:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 1

In the gay world, reputation is everything, especially if you want a decent sex life. You could go for all that anonymous sex in parks, public toilets, and rest stops, but most of those guys are married losers cheating on their wives in sordid double lives. Who knows what diseases they took home, and gave to their poor unsuspecting wife? Some of those guys did nasty stuff, with no protection whatsoever. I started my gay life that way too, but once I came out of the closet I wanted to move up a couple of rungs on the gay ladder. Coming out made me free (or so I thought), and I didn’t have to hide my sexuality from anyone, anymore. No more lurking around corners, and in the shadows, hoping to get some cock. I could openly pursue it. Well, that’s how it should’ve been. Once I came out, I went to the gay bars and nightclubs to see if I could pick up men. I found it tough because I’m a chubby man, but not morbidly obese, and it seemed the only guys I met interested in me were no better than the ones I had met in rest rooms. I probably had met many of them in rest rooms to begin with, as they seemed to snicker around me.

Still, if anything I’m persistent, and I suppose as a naive nineteen-year-old trying to understand all the bullshit going on around me, I had to be. Dating seemed much harder than I imagined it would be, probably no different from heterosexual dating. I’m not a bad-looking guy, even if I am on the chubby side. So I thought I’d have no problems meeting men. The men I did meet and date ended pretty quickly, especially after we had been intimate for the first time. It frustrated me to think guys could be such jerks. Now I know-how women felt on the dating circle.

The other side to my story is I’m a struggling law student at Melbourne University, Australia.

Luckily, I didn’t have to pay school fees until I was paying taxes (that’s how it works in Australia), but I still had to eat, pay rent, buy stuff, and all that. As a result, I’m nearly always broke. One day, in a gay bar near my campus this guy in his fifties, smoking a smelly cigar, and wearing a white suit with a fedora hat, came and sat next to me. I inwardly sighed, as the old pervs loved guys like me, as I’m what’s called ‘a leftover’. Once all the hot guys paired, I’m one of the loser’s leftover for the older men to swoop in on and have a crack at.

He asked, smiling a set of perfect white teeth, May I buy you a drink?

Sure, I said, I never refuse a free drink.

Buying me a drink didn’t mean I had to suck his cock, or let him fuck me. He ordered two beers from the bartender, and motioned me to a cubicle in the far corner. I agreed to go with him if he didn’t try any funny stuff. He laughed, and said he promised to keep his dick in his pants. So I went with this older guy to have a beer with him.

Once we were seated, he held his hand across the table, and said cheerfully, My name is Chas.

I shook his hand. I’m James, but people call me ‘Red’.

He took a drink of his beer.

I’ve been watching you. You’re an intriguing young fellow.

Oh? Is that your best pickup line? Admitting you’re a stalker, I said, rolling my eyes.

He smiled, amused by my comment.

Don’t be too hasty in judging me, Red. I’m not one of those sad old homo’s trying to score any young man they can get their creepy hands on.

Oh, and what are you then? I asked, and drank some beer.

I’m a businessman, and I’m looking for a special person to join my team. I’m wondering if you might be that man.

A job offer, as a perpetually broke student that got my attention.

Depends what kind of business you’re in, I suppose.

Chas smiled warmly at me, followed by taking a gulp of beer. His eyes never left mine, giving me the impression his mind grappled with how best to word his proposal.

Putting his glass on the table, he said, I run a stable of exotic performers. We perform at exclusive events. The pay is good, of course, and you’ll be well looked after.

I drank some of my beer so I could think. Exotic performers, I thought anxiously, a stripper or a prostitute?

I’m not a male prostitute, sorry, I said.

Chas laughed heartily, slapping the table and making others turn and stare at us.

I’m not a pimp. Besides, if I were a pimp I’d hardly be sitting here talking with the likes of you.

He laughed hard again at the absurdity of the idea of me working as a prostitute, which did hurt my feelings. I could feel my face burn red for a moment, which made him laugh even more.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Come now, Red, you’re a big boy now, he said jovially. A man who can hardly pick up in a gay nightclub, where every man is gagging for cock, is hardly going to get many customers as a man whore, now is he?

He laughed again as I grimaced and swallowed hard, he had made a bullseye I didn’t care to think about.

For a man trying to recruit me, you’re not selling it well, I said, and sneered at him.

I went to leave, but he grabbed my arm, forcing me to sit again. I couldn’t believe how strong he is for an older man.

Stop acting like a child. You and I both know why your dance card isn’t full, and that’s why I’m here.

I blushed again.

I don’t know what you’re talking about, I said, knowing what he’s talking about.

OK, so you want me to spell it out for you? Red, you have a tiny cock, and that’s why as a gay man your sex life isn’t what you hoped it to be.

Chas’s word made me stare into my beer wishing the cubicle would swallow me. I picked up my drink and sipped it to give me time to think. If I heard him correctly, he wants to hire me for his troupe of performers because I have a small cock, I thought. The proposal seemed weird to me. Is this a kinky sex thing, I wondered? Eventually I asked the pertinent question.

So how is the size of my dick relevant to your job offer?

His blue eyes and white teeth flashed, the charisma of the man alluring me.

It depends what size we’re talking about here. If you’re say four-inches hard, you won’t be suitable for the job. Those types are common these days. No, I’m looking for a unique man who has a cock less than three inches hard, the smaller the better. If you're a man like that, we’ll have a profitable arrangement.

So what makes you think I have a dick that small?

Chas sat back in the chair with a confident grin, as if a king surveying his throne room.

I’ve heard whispers about you, but I’ll need to see it myself to verify it. If you’re interested in my proposal. If not, then I’ll leave here and never bother you again. So what's it to be?

I tried my hardest to resist his charms, however, something mysterious about him influenced me. I could feel myself getting nervous tingles in my stomach.

I still have no fucking idea what you do, though. ‘Exotic performers’ can mean anything.

Chas raised his hand to the barkeep, and ordered two more pints.

Fair question. I run a troupe of men and women with ‘unusual’ physical characteristics. My troupe gets hired to perform at exclusive events where their unique bodies inspire and entertain.

Chas handed the barkeep some money as the beers were deposited in front of us. I took a drink of the cold beer waiting for the barkeep to leave, thinking.

How do your performers entertain the guests, exactly? I asked, once we were alone.

My performers display their bodies for the guests to view. But I assure you, there’s no sex involved, as that’s illegal.

He winked at me. I began to feel grossed out, as what he was implying dawned on me.

I see, and you want me to display my small dick to the public? Is that it?

He nodded sagely.

Son, not many are suited to this job, even if they meet the entry requirements. It takes courage, as the guests at these events can be nasty with their comments.

I guffawed. Way to sell it, Chas.

He shook his head, saying, They can also be complimentary, too. Its human nature when confronted with people who are different.

There’s plenty of guys into small penis humiliation, why not ask them?

Finding the right man for this job has proved difficult. Yes, many men claim they like small penis humiliation, but I find when they experience it on this level, well, let’s say, not many last the distance.

So what makes you think I’ll last?

Honestly? I don’t think you will, because I can already see you’re defensive about it. Your size, I mean. But I keep trying, hoping one day I’ll find the right man.

He sighed wistfully, and drank more beer.

I share your pain, I said cheekily. How much does it pay?

I’m studying to be a lawyer, so I’m always the pragmatist. He nodded at me. My question a sign that the fish is seriously checking out the bait now.

I pay each performer Five-hundred dollars per event, and of course they can get tips from the guests. Some of my performers make around five-grand a night, for standing there and letting people look at them. He downed his beer, the raised his arm to ordered two more pints. Drink, boy, he said, and I did.

The lure of that kind of money is strong, there’s no doubt. Especially to a poor university student.

Do the guests have to see my face?

I do have some performers who prefer to wear masks, but I find that those whom wear masks usually get less tips, than those who don’t. You’ll make more money if you show your face. But I don’t force anyone to do that, it’s the performer’s choice.

Two more pints were delivered.

I picked mine up to drink, but asked, Do the guests touch you?

Chas vehemently shook his head.

"No, it’s not permitted to touch a performer during an event, and we strictly police it. Guests can leave their card if they want to meet you for other activities, it’s up to you if