The sun had long since set on the Hundred Acre Woods. The sounds of crickets and nightlarks filled the fall air, and the glow of lamplight shone out from Christopher Robin's bedroom window. Inside, the small brown haired boy had just gotten undressed for bed. He stood in front of his bathroom mirror, naked, looking down at the reflection of his little two inch boy cock. He smiled, enjoying this small moment of naughtiness.

Christopher spat toothpaste into the sink basin before rinsing his mouth out with a small cup of water. He ran his tongue around his teeth, tasting the smooth clean surface and smacking his lips. He yawned, and stepped down from the stepping stool, finally heading for bed.

The boy wore pale blue silk pajamas, with yellow plastic buttons all up the front of the shirt, and a single button just at the top of his pajama bottoms. As he sat on the side of his bed, his covers folded over as to let him slip under them, he listened happily to the sound of crickets outside his window. He turned his lamp off, and soon the only light in the room was a thin beam of moonlight spayed across the center of his bed.

Christopher Robin, content and comfortable, flipped the covers over himself, and laid his head on his soft pillow, calmly closing his eyes...

"Is...is he in the bed yet?"

"Yeah, yeah! Pull the cord!"

*TWANG!*

*FLOOMP!*

"Aaaahhhhh!"

Seconds after closing his eyes, Chrstopher Robin found his bed springing forward. He slid out underneath his covers, and down into a trapdoor just in front of the end of his bed!

He shot down a narrow wooden chute before landing in the arms of a giant, plush heffalump.

Oh no.

Not again!

"He's all yours, guys!"

The heffalump tossed him into the horrible clutches of dozens of leering, grinning, perverted woozles. None of them were wearing any slacks, and instead each of them had a long, thin, slimy, smelly, gross woozle dick poking out from between their legs.

It was clear that this wasn't a spur of the moment sort of thing this time. This time, they meant business. Christopher Robin was already tearing up with fear.

"No, please! Let me go! Let me go, I didn't do anything!"

"Yeah, you didn't. But we enjoyed torturing you so much last summer, we thought we'd do it again. We got some big fun in store for you, red Robin. Starting with...us molesting that tiny boydick of yours!"

The woozle slipped his fuzzy hand into the front of Christopher Robin's pajamas and began fondling Christopher's soft member and balls. Christopher's face turned bright red from shame.

"N-no! Stop it! Don't touch me there! Stop...stop!"

The woozle leered looking right at Christopher Robin's face. "Whassamatter, baby dick? Embarrassed? Good. I love seeing a goody-two-shoes like you blushing up a storm. Get him out of these pajamas. It's humiliation time!"

The woozles began tearing Christopher Robin's pajamas to shreds. The buttons on his shirt flew off before clattering on the dirt floor of the tunnel. One woozle sliced right down the back of his pajama bottoms, exposing his pale little bubble butt to dozens and dozens of yellow woozle eyes and engulfing Christopher Robin in howling laughter.

"Nice bubble butt, kid! White as snow!"

"Won't be for long. He'll have four matching red cheeks!"

"Hahahahaha!"

In a single unified rip, Christopher Robin's pajama pants were reduced to strips of tattered cloth. The boy was completely naked!

And ripe for fondling by greedy, wicked woozle hands.

Christopher clenched his eyes shut in humiliation as he felt hands explore his privates with devious enthusiasm. Thin, fuzzy woozle fingers tugged on his foreskin and pinched his little pink nipples. Big, plush heffalump hands spread his buttcheeks apart, sliding back and forth across his exposed pucker. He felt tears begin to form in the corners of his eyes.

Then the woozles and heffalumps did something awful. They started to sing.

"We're spanking Christopher Robin butt,
We're paddling his bottom.
We're spanking Christopher Robin butt,
Because we finally caught him.
And now we're going to roast his buns
Till down his face his tears will run
We'll spank his butt until his cheeks are purple!

We're gonna make his butt cheeks sting
We're gonna make sure he cries.
Big heffalump hands will spank his butt,
They're going to tan his hide.
We'll make him weep now he's ours to keep,
His pain and shame we're going to reap.
He'll beg us to stop, but it'll go on for hours!

Spanking time for Christopher;
Yes little Christopher's getting an aching butt today.
Watch the tears roll down his face,
Cause he knows the pain is here to stay.
Then we'll fill his tummy tum
With yucky woozle cum.
Just look at his crimson face!
And Chris's butt get's sorer and sorer
With each and every spank.
Because we'll be spanking him all night long!"

"No!" Christopher Robin cried out, struggling against the throngs. "Let me go!"

"Not likely!" shouted one woozle.

"LET ME GO!"

Christopher struck one woozle in the eye with his hand, hard. The creature dropped him onto the dirt floor, clutching his face. Christopher bounded between the legs of the advancing heffalumps.

The woozle scowled angrily. 

"Get him! Get that brat back here NOW!"

Christopher clumsily dodged the hands of heffalump and woozle alike, scurrying naked down the dirt tunnel. He felt his face flush at being naked, his boydick flopping back and forth in the cold underground air. But the drive to escape his captors drowned out any feelings of shame in his head.

He finally made it past the edge of the mob, sprinting down the hall. A small glow of hope formed in him. He was going to get out!

That small glow was immediately crushed by the sight of a blank dirt wall adjacent to the trap door under his bed.

Now closed.

The throngs of plush and fur came advancing steadily towards him. A woozle with a slight blackening of his eye was at the front, casually punching into the flat of his palm, glaring right at Christopher Robin. The boy cowered on the floor, shaking, weeping in fear. There was no way out.

He was doomed.

Two heffalumps picked him up by his arms. The woozle looked up at the dangling, naked boy. He grinned fiendishly.

"Ohhhhh, boy. You are really in for it now, you know that?"

Before Christopher could speak, in one swift motion the woozle punched Christopher Robin in the balls. Hard.

The boy whimpered weakly, then passed out from the pain. Things were only going to get worse for the poor boy. It was going to be a long night.
--

The bucket of ice water shocked Christopher awake. He choked and shook as fuzzy woozle hands grabbed his ankles and began dragging him across the dirt floor. Wearily, he opened his eyes and saw a practical stadium of leering, jeering heffalumps and woozles receding as he was brought over to what looked to be a stage made out of limestone. Beside it were two massive black rubber tubes which led up into two suspended jugs about the size of a grand piano each, and were hidden behind tattered curtains.

Christopher felt manacles clack shut around his ankles before the two woozles dropped his feet on the floor, leaving him laying on his back on the smooth, cool limestone.

The woozle with a black eye, whose name was Chet, stood in front of Christopher. Judging by how the other woozles acted, he had been given the reins to young Christopher's ordeal.

"You know, kid, we were originally just gonna give you a spanking tonight. See over there?" he pointed to a line of heffalumps, all sitting in sturdy looking wooden chairs. "We got together the strongest, most hard handed heffalumps we could find, and we were gonna let them just pulverize those sweet little boy buns of yours till your backside was like hamburger meat. And maybe we'd have a few of the boys over here give youse a taste of some nice, slimy woozle cum."

Chet swiftly brought his leather loafer mere inches from Christopher Robin's balls and stamped his foot down. The boy shrieked, and clasped his balls instinctively. An audible chuckle rolled through the audience.

"Now, I think you'll find you're going to be getting a heck of a lot worse before we even come close to letting you get something as tame as an ass roasting."

"W-why? Why do you keep doing this? Why won't you just leave me alone?" stammered Christopher Robin.

Chet looked down at Christopher. He leaned over, bringing his face close.

"Because you represent everything us woozles hate about this stinkin' forest. You're so...wholesome! You're a stinkin' goody-two shoes. Nearly 13 years old, never tried to look at a dirty magazine or tied bags to a cats feet, nothin'!"

Chet stepped over to the two rubber tubes. At the end of each was a thick, silver nozzle.

"We're gonna start you off with a couple of enemas. You know what that is, don't cha?"

Christopher, quite afraid, shook his head no. The woozle rolled his eyes. He signaled to another woozle, who began pulling Christopher Robin up from his chains. His feet slowly rose into the air, and he stopped, the back of his head resting on the stone floor.

"We got two tanks here. One of 'em is filled to with fresh, warm, sticky honey. The other? Hot, carbonated ginger tonic. Not hot enough to scald, but you ain't gonna like having it pumped into that tight little booty of yers."

"W-what!?" exclaimed Chris.

"Oh yeah. We're gonna fill you up, little boy," Chet cruelly dug a finger into Christopher Robin's butthole, making the boy cry out in discomfort. "Right. To. The. Brim."

"No! No, please, don't! I'm sorry, please spank me! I'm ready, spank me please! Don't do this!"

"Oh, we're gonna spank you, Robby-poo. But you are gonna earn it. Pick a tank. Or we'll do both at once. You ain't in a position to negotiate."

Christopher Robin looked over at the snickering crowd. He looked up at the two big, black tanks, and at the big rubber hoses with big, metal nozzles that looked far too thick for Christopher Robin's little pucker. He whimpered. This was going to hurt so bad!

"The...right one?"

The woozle pointed to the tank on the right. "You heard 'em, boys. Let's fill him up!"

Two woozles dragged the tube over to the hanging boy. In one swift motion, one woozle twisted the metal nozzle painfully into Christopher's asshole. The boy winced, biting his lip at the sudden intrusion.

"Okay, little guy," Chet smirked. "Let's see what you've won."

The other woozle flipped a dial on the tube near the middle, and immediately liquid began gorging the black rubber. Christopher shrieked in discomfort as hot, bubbling liquid began to gush into his rectum.

"AH! Ah, ow ow ow! It's too hot! It's hot, make it stop!"

Christopher Robin kicked his legs weakly in the air, whimpering and grunting as the torrent of bubbling hot ginger filled his nether region. Slowly, a slight bulge began to form in his stomach. 

Chet grinned fiendishly as he watched the boy's belly bulge. "Ooh, I do believe that the ginger should start reacting right about..."

"AHHHHHHHH! Get it out! It burns! It burns no no NO NO AGGGGGGHHHHH! OWWWWW!"

"Now!"

Christopher clenched his buttcheeks around the nozzle, weakly tugging at the hose filling his backside with horrible stinging ginger. The tears were racing to flow down his face now. The ginger was so awful! It burned! It stung! He clenched his eyes, openly weeping in pain.

"Uggghhhh....AHH! AHHH! My stomach! Stop! STOP NO MORE! UHHHH! NNOOOOOO!"

The cramps were coming in full force now. Horrible aching, burning cramps that wouldn't go away no matter how Christopher Robin held himself. He couldn't stop the pain. It just kept coiling around inside his guts, making him shake. He hated this feeling so much. How could something hurt so bad?

At last, the flow slowed, and eventually stopped. Christopher Robin hung there on the floor, clutching his swollen belly, filled with what seemed like an ocean of boiling, stinging, bubbly ginger tonic. He wanted the pain to go away. He moaned, crying out for Pooh, Rabbit, Eeyore, anyone he could think of.

Chet approached Christopher's backside, holding something in his left hand. With a quick jerk, he pulled the nozzle out with a loud *pop!*. A small bit of red tonic squirted out, but the boy's tight asshole sealed itself shut before any more could escape.

Christopher's relief at having the nozzle out was short lived. Immediately after, Chet, grinning like a demon, shoved a thick, black butt plug into Christopher's butt. Trapping the evil burning liquid inside the boy's aching, cramping bowels.

Christopher found himself being raised up even higher now, until eventually he was hanging upside down, hands dangling just an inch off the floor. He looked up at the upside down  Chet, who was looking wickedly at Christopher's bloted gut.

"Pleasepleaseplease get it out! Please! I can't take it, it hurts so much!"

"Oh, does it hurt, Chrissy? Does it hurt...when I do..."

He reached over and, without a single shred of remorse, began kneading Christopher Robin's swolen stomach with his fingers.

"This?"

"UGGGGGHH! NO! DON'T! AAAAAHHHHGGGG!"

The cramps ravaging Christopher kicked into overdrive. The helpless boy was practically heaving in pain as Chet mercilessly stirred the hot, agitating ginger around and around inside his bowels. The carbonation was starting to form nice, big pockets of gas.

Gas that had absolutely no where to go. Christopher screamed.

Chet had to be careful as Christopher started kicking his legs in pain as he continued to sadistically roil the boy's stomach from behind. Making him cramp up so bad that the boy, in front of cackling eyes, pissed himself from the pain. Chet was ecstatic!

This continued for nearly ten minutes before Chet decided that the ginger had run it's course, and motioned for the boy to be lowered back down. Christopher Robin lay there, sobbing weakly. He shook in fear of pain as he was brought to his feet by the two woozles. Chet went behind and grabbed the base of the buttplug. He glanced at the audience.

"Fire in the hole!"

In one swift motion, he yanked the buttplug out, immediately leaping back. He knew exactly what was coming.

"AHHHHHHH!"

The effect was immediate and explosive.  Red liquid began rocketing out of Christopher Robin's backside, drenching the  stone floor in crimson and filling the room with a strong ginger smell. The audience cackled at they watched Christopher grunt and shake as he began releasing all of that pent up gas in probably the most lewd and humiliating fashion imaginable. Needless to say, his face was easily just as red as the ginger tonic beneath him.

"Noooo...Ugh! Please...don't look. Ugh..." moaned Christopher as ginger slowly trickled out of his ass onto the floor, in full view of everyone present. The boy would have stopped if he could have. 

But he most certainly couldn't.

Finally, the last few drops seemed to come out, and Christopher Robin was empty at last. He crouched on the floor, still gasping from the humiliating, painful, exhausting ordeal.

And was horrified that he was being raised back up from his chains. He lost it.

"NO! NO NOT AGAIN PLEASE! ANYTHING BUT THAT!"

Chet walked over, grabbing the other nozzle. He smiled in mock kindness at the poor boy.

"Oh, don't worry kid. We ain't putting any more ginger in ya this time. Oh no. I told you there were two tanks here. We're gonna fill you up with some nice, warm, sticky honey now."

Two woozles stood nearby the tank at massive hand pumps. Chet slipped the honey nozzle into Christopher's tender asshole. Christopher started groaning as sticky, thick honey began to pump into his ass. Chet bit his lip in sadistic excitement. The boy started sobbing hopelessly.

"There's a 'honey bun' joke in here somehwhere, I know..."