“He’s a shy one isn’t he!” yelled out Tony as he collected some shower gel from the dispenser on the wall and lathered himself up. “What do you reckon lads? Will we feed him a Cherry Bakewell?”

“Och, leave the boy be, Tony,” shouted one of the other men, the biggest and the oldest of the three bit players. “Come on in son – you’re safe enough.”

Confused and a little timid, but totally in awe of the naked flesh that was before me, I took off my towel and hung it up then entered the communal showers. Of course as luck would have it, both of the free faucets were to either side of Tony, one to his left on the same wall, and one to his right on the adjacent wall. Strategically I took the latter, knowing that this would afford me the better view.

I set about my shower ostensibly ignoring the hunk beside me, but intending to sneak glances whenever I could. Not wanting to engage him, I avoided his face, and not wanting to enrage him I avoided his cock, so it was his chest that my eyes settled on when I turned in his direction. I was greeted to a close up of a big pert nipple sticking out proud on his beefy hairy pec. It looked like it was screaming for some oral attention and I would be happy to oblige and suckle the sexy bud - but I wanted to keep my teeth, so I forced myself to look away, turning round again to face the wall.

SPLAT!!!

Suddenly a hand was on my shoulder – it landed with a wet slap and I jolted in shock, letting out a yelp.

“Christ you’re jumpy!” shouted Tony through the steam.

“Sorry,” I replied, glancing at the hand. It looked bloody enormous, and undoubtedly could pack a fair whack. You wouldn’t want to be on the wrong end of that big mitt if its owner took offence.

“Brave though, to come in here,” continued Tony. “Now that’s what I call asking for a Cherry Bakewell.”

“W... what do you mean?” I stammered, nervous as all hell, but thrilled at the same time to be talking to this man and having some physical contact.

“A Cherry Bakewell!” Tony repeated, slapping my shoulder again, just a hint of threat to the action. “You know what one of those is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it’s a tart,” I answered, twisting my neck to face him. “They make them in the fancy section of the factory.”

“He’s a smart boy all right!” laughed Tony, looking to the other men. “He knows about cakes... but we don’t do that type of Cherry Bakewell here in the bread factory, do we lads?”

There was a murmur of laughter from two of the other men – it sounded kind of nervous.

“No, we don’t MAKE them here, we DO them here... to the new students – a sort of test.”

“Stop it Tony – leave the boy alone,” piped up the same man as before, the only one brave enough to stand up to the big bruiser. 

“Bollocks – we need to test him,” announced Tony with finality.

I was in a daze, totally mystified. I looked at the other men who were awkwardly glancing in my direction. I should have been looking at Tony, for he took me by surprise when suddenly he brought his big soapy hand down onto my butt. He gave it a slap and a bit of a grope, and a finger even slithered its way into my crack and touched my puckered hole. Then Tony grabbed me round the neck, turned me around and forced me to bend over. My head was held tight against his hard belly, my face only inches away from his cock. It was a dubious reward for the position he had me in, bent over naked, my ass proffered to the men in the shower room.

“Come on lads, whose going to check him out,” laughed my sexy big assailant.

“Stop it Tony!” came that one dissenting voice.

“But we need to make sure he’s not a poof. The Cherry Bakewell is a long standing tradition – a baker’s finger up a new lad’s arse to make sure it’s cherry tight and never been poked by a cock. Who’s going to do it?”

It was then that Tony added to my humiliation, although there was a hell of a silver lining as well. He pushed my head down further. My face brushed past his fabulous cock before he trapped me by the neck between his massive thighs. I reached out to steady myself, grabbing his legs just above the knees. I could feel his big dick resting heavy on my back along with his ample rugby player balls.

Laughing at the fun, Tony gave my butt another hard slap then grappled with my cheeks. He took each mound and pulled them wide apart to reveal my asshole to the assembled men.

“Come on!” egged Tony. “Who’s going to be the one to test him? Rab, what about you? Get over here and slip him a finger.”

“You can be a right cunt at times, Tony. Leave the boy alone,” said my elderly ally.

“Er, I’ll see you boys later,” said a more cowardly voice, the man turning off his shower and tactfully departing.

“On you go then Rab. Slink off you big woose... Well, if nobody else is up for it, I’d better do it myself.”

I was stunned. Too stunned to even struggle, I just let it happen. Tony actually pushed a soapy finger up my arse – there in public in front of two other men, more undoubtedly listening outside. He slithered it in and wriggled it about – he frigged me with the big digit right up to the knuckles, sawing it in and out. It was the most mortifying experience of my life - hideously embarrassing, and the soap lubrication stung my chute, adding to my grief. But worst of all was the tingling in my cock, for despite my humiliation, I was shockingly aroused. There was a finger up my ass and a big set of genitals resting heavy on my back, my head was squashed by muscular hairy thighs. For the first time in my life I was having some sort of sex, and it was with a big horny rugby player who was exactly my type – of coarse I was feeling aroused! And I feared it would cost me a couple of teeth and my boyish good looks if Tony found out.

To my huge relief the bullying hunk eventually shouted out, “Oh we’re safe enough lads – he’s cherry all right! There’s never been a cock up there – at least none that was a decent size.”