*Glorp...glorp...glorp...*

"Uhhhhhg! Ah! AH! Please stop! Stop! It hurts! IT HUUUURTS!No more, no NO NO! AHHHG! My stomach!"

Christopher Robin hung upside down as hot, sticky honey was pumped mercilessly into his asshole. He groaned and pleaded in pain, feeling horribly full as the thick honey bloated him, agitating his bowels. Making him cramp up just as much as the ginger enema had done so.

Chet the woozle was busying himself absentmindedly diddling Christopher's exposed little boyhood, biting his lip in delight as he watched the boy squirm and writhe in misery. Christopher cried out as the sadistic creature drummed his furry fingers on his rapidly expanding gut.

"Mm, yes! I just love making you cramp up like this. It must hurt soooo bad! Does it? Does it hurt bad wittle Chwissy?"

Christopher Robin, still in exquisite pain, clenched his eyes shut, refusing to answer his captor. Tears streamed down his face, but he clenched his teeth in defiance. A rare moment of bravery for the timid little boy.

Unfortunately, chosen at the worst possible time. Chet, scowling, grabbed Christopher's little balls and squeezed them as hard as he could. The boy's eyes shot open. 

A strained gasp was all Christopher Robin could manage as the wicked pain from his plums being crushed and the dull, aching cramps in his gut plowed into him, making him wish that he could scream. Chet released the boy's balls. He got his wish.

"AHHHHHNNNN! UH! UH! UHHHHH!"

"That's what I thought you said. Looks like you're ready to burst. Cut the pump!"

At last, the flow of hot, golden goo into Christopher's backside halted. The pump was pulled out, leaving a thin strand of honey on the end, connected to the boy's quivering asshole. Slowly, he was lowered back down onto the ground, whimpering and gasping at the horrible fullness in his gut.

Chet stood over him, smiling devilishly. The boy stared up, tears of pain and shame in his eyes.

"I...hate you..." gasped Christopher.

"Oh, I know. Stand up, honey-buns."

Christopher bit his lip, shaking his head. "No."

Chet scowled. He went over and kicked Christopher hard in the nuts. The small boy groaned in pain.

"I said stand up!"

"NO!" shouted Christopher Robin. Chet furrowed his brow, unprepared for this reaction. The onlookers had a similar response to the child's unexpected defiance.

"I don't care! Hit my...balls...as much as you want! I'm not doing anything you say! I won't! No!"

Chet was...frustrated to say the least. This was not how things were supposed to progress. There was no fun in literally kicking Christopher Robin while he was down. He paced, looking around the room. What to do, what to do...

"Gonzo, come 'ere a minute," Chet called to a purplish heffalump.

The lumbering creature waddled over. The two of them whispered to one another, Chet occasionally glancing back at the child. Christopher pretended to be defiantly apathetic, but deep down, he was still very much terrified of what they might do to him.

Gonzo began jogging out of the cave. Chet motioned for a pair of other woozles to come over. He gestured to Christopher.

The boy, struggling weakly, was lifted up by his arms. He gasped as he felt a dollop of still warm honey ooze inadvertantly out of his pucker, slowly sliding down his leg. Chet crossed his arms, glaring at Christopher.

"So, little boy. You don't wanna be a good boy and do as I say anymore?"

Christopher was silent, staring at the ground. Chet charged over, grabbing Christopher's face roughly. He turned him face to face. Christopher still refused to meet his gaze.

"Listen here, you little shit!" he spat angrily, scowling at the small boy. "I could kill you right now. I could have any one of these heffalumps come over here and pop you like a honey filled zit. You seem to be laboring under the delusion that you have any bit of power in this arrangement, so let me enlighten you; you don't."

Chet grabbed Christopher by the throat, making him gasp. Reluctantly, he brought his eyes to meet Chet's gaze.

"I want to make something very clear, Christopher," said Chet, eerily calm. "We are doing this because it is in our nature. We hate innocence. Every day I see you out there with those...Pooh, and Tigger, and Piglet, all of them just like you. Sweet and nice and kind! Oh, how fucking precious. You are everything we are not."

He reached down and grabbed Christopher by the balls, kneading the two little parps in his fuzzy hand. Feeling Christopher stuggle to gasp with the woozle's hand around his throat.

"So when I tell you to let us hurt you, to make it easy for us, it is for a very simple reason, Christopher Robin. I hate you, but I would be lying if I said I wanted to destroy you. I'd much rather see you suffer. I want to see you cry. I want to see you beg. I want to see you...tainted."

He let go of the child's aching balls. Gonzo was returning with what looked to be a big burlap sack. Chet stared into Christopher Robin's eyes. The boy was shaking with fear now. Any thoughts of defiance had since been shut out of his mind.

"So, Christopher Robin. What's it going to be? Are you going to let us do what we want, are you going to cry and hurt, and especially...are you going to beg us to stop? Or does this end, right here, right now, under Gonzo's foot?"

Christopher was crying in terror. Tears running down his face, snot flowing freely from his little nose. He shook in Chet's grasp, weeping, barely able to breathe.

"I...I...I wa-wanna go hoooohoooome..." he sobbed, lip quivering violently. Chet smiled sadistically.

"Now that," he whispered in Christopher's ear. "Is better."

Gonzo opened up the burlap sack to reveal what looked to be massive leaves and stalks. Chet began putting on a pair of leather work gloves before removing a large clump of olive green leaves, with only a tint of red. Christopher's hands were quickly bound up in chains as well and pulled up above his head. His legs, likewise, were raised up and spread, exposing him in the lewdest way imaginable. The boy could barely keep the torrent of sticky honey inside his asshole. One woozle came over and put a large jar marked 'HuNNy' right underneath Christopher Robin's ass.

Chet methodically began expecting the leaves, looking closely at each clump. He nodded at Gonzo, grinning. "Good job, Gonzo. These will do very nicely."

Gonzo nodded before returning to the audience, which was filled with a lustful energy. They knew exactly what was about to happen to poor Christopher, and they were loving it.

Christopher looked at the leaves, confused. Chet stepped forward, smiling smugly, staring right at the boy's little cock and balls, dangling exposed. This was going to be fun.

"Looks like you don't know what these are. Well, let me illustrate what these do."

Chet stepped close to Christopher and, snickering, lightly brushed the bunch of leaves across Christopher Robin's nipple. First, nothing. But then...

"Ah....ah ah AHHHHHH! OWWW OW OW OW OW OWWWWWWW!"

Christopher's little pink nipple was quickly turning red with angry painful bumps. Unable to focus, honey began to ooze out of Christopher's butthole in a long, golden drop. Chet looked bemused at the stems in his hand.

"Fire nettles. Quite a bite they've got, huh? Ooh, that must sting something fierce," said Chet, grinning. "How about this?"

He swiped the nettles across Christopher's other nipple. The boy shook violently against the chains, little balls swaying back and forth. Tears rolling down his bright red face and onto the floor.

Along with the honey, now lewdly dripping out of the sobbing boy's backside, much to Christopher Robin's humiliation.

"Now, I'm gonna rub these all over the spots I think will hurt most. I'm gonna keep rubbing until you squirt all of that honey out of your little pucker, right in front of us. Sounds embarrassing, right?"

Christopher could only grunt and whimper from the pain. Chet, annoyed, swiped the nettles across his chest. Glorp, glorp went more honey, right into the pot.

"I said, sounds embarrassing, right?"

"YEEEHEEEEES! OWW OW OW OW OW! UGGGGHHHH..."

"And do you want to know the best part?" laughed Chet. "Once we fill up this pot, and the next, we're gonna sneak these right into that Pooh bear's stock room. Just think, your best friend will be noshing down on honey that you squirted right out your backside!"

The audience howled with laughter. Christopher Robin turned purple with shame. Chet bit his lip in delight.

"Let's get started, honey-buns. I bet Pooh Bear is hungry!"

Chet approached the struggling boy and, without any mercy, began slowly, roughly grinding nettle leaves across Christopher Robin's chest.

The boy screamed, shaking as honey began oozing and gushing out of his sore, aching asshole. He was trapped. Either he would be tortured like this for hours, or he'd have to live knowing that his best friend would be eating...

"AH! AHHHH! POOH BEAR, I'M SOOHOOORRY!"

The audience exploded into giggles. Christopher, face as red as could be, started forcing the honey out as quickly as he could. Right into the clay pot.

Chet slowly began working the nettles towards Christopher Robin's precocious little package. The boy's eyes shot open. He shook his head violently.

"NO NO NO NO NOT THERE! NOT THERE PLEEEEASE! ANYWHERE BUT THERE!"

Chet ignored the boy's pleas, and began lightly brushing the boy's foreskin and balls with nettles, watching with sadistic glee as furious red bumps began appearing on Christopher Robin's most precious part.

The boy howled in nightmarish agony, shaking in pain as the wicked nettles stung his cock and balls again and again, sliding back and forth across his shaft. Chet calmly lifted up his cock and began painting the other side with  white hot nettle stings. 

Another woozle replaced the now full honey pot with an empty one.

Chet gripped Christopher Robin's foreskin with his gloved left hand and slowly, teasingly, pulled it all the way back, exposing Christopher Robin's untouched, pristine, oh so sensitive cockhead.

Christopher Robin's jaw dropped. An ice cold wave of fear shot through him.

"No. Oh no. Please, please, do anything else to me. I'll do whatever you say, I promise! Please, please don't sting me there! Please, I'm begging you! Don't! It's gonna hurt! It's gonna hurt!"

Big, drippy tears were forming in the boy's eyes as he looked down, begging Chet for mercy. Shaking hopelessly in the woozle's malicious grip, desperately trying to get away. Chet looked Christopher Robin right in the eyes.

"I'm not doing anything you say."

Taking the whole handful, Chet completely engulfed Christopher Robin's cockhead in vicious, horrible stinging nettles. He began to polish the head of the boy's little member, jacking him off with a sleeve of white hot nettle stings.

A stream of yellow shot out of the end of his boy cock as the searing pain hit him. Blinding pain. Maddening pain. Chet, getting an idea, began rubbing inside the boy's piss slit with the nettle leaves. Unbelievably, this hurt far, far worse.

Christopher Robin shrieked, shaking almost hard enough to make the chains slip out of the pulley wheel. The audience went wild, cackling at their victim's misery.

This went on for nearly half an hour.

They filled not one, not two, but three whole pots of honey, that would soon be sitting in Pooh bear's store room. Little would he know that he'd be eating the fruits of his best friend's agony and shame. And even if he could, how would Christopher Robin explain it to him without completely destroying their relationship?

Christopher Robin hung there, motionless, numb to anything but the throbbing pain of the nettle stings. His cock was swollen, completely covered with furious red welts. His balls, too, looked like they had been stung by countless angry hornets.

His little butthole gasped at its sudden emptiness, winking like a little pair of lips.

Christopher Robin's face, bright red, was drenched in tears and snot. He opened his mouth to speak. The child's voice was hoarse, barely audible.

"Please...no more nettles..."

Chet tutted before reaching into the burlap sack and pulling out a long, thick nettle stem. Two woozles held the boy's legs in place as Chet, without a shred of remorse, placed the stem longways right down the boy's crack.

"No...no..."

Chet began flossing Christopher Robin's buttcrack with the nettle branch. Searing agony shot through his o-ring like a firecracker. The crowd erupted in malicious ecstacy.

Christopher's mouth opened wide in shock, before luckily passing out from the pain.

But Chet was far from done with his prize. He looked to several woozles as they began setting up what would be the next circle of Hell for poor Christopher. For a brief moment, Chet wondered if they were going too far.

A very, very brief moment.