The Basketball Team Bully

I opened my athletics locker to find the drawings as dozens of dicks plastered all over the interior of my locker. I heard snickers behind me. 

‘Not again,’ I thought. 

I was the team manager for the basketball team, and they’d just found out I was gay because my ex-boyfriend leaked our sex tape when we broke up. Since then, the basketball team thought it was the funniest thing ever to make gay jokes, draw dicks on my locker, and overall give me a hard time for being gay. But there was one player in particular who was far crueler than the rest of the team. 

His name was Patrick, he was a 6’4 physical specimen and captain of the team. He’d refer to me as fag, shove me against lockers, throw his dirty laundry at my face, and make a scene accusing me of checking him out if he ever caught me looking at him. I used to love managing the basketball team because I loved watching basketball, despite being too short and uncoordinated to play, but Patrick made being the manager of the basketball team a nightmare. 

I wasn’t too upset though because I had a theory for his behavior: he was gay. I found it strange how he’d treated me fine before, but ever since he found out I was gay, he was extra evil to me. I mean why should what I do with my sex life make him so bitter? He seemed to always stay the longest in the communal locker room showers and slapped his teammates' ass in encouragement a little more frequent than his teammates. Also, whenever the team drew dicks on my locker or my other belongings, I could always tell which one was his because it was the biggest and most detailed—I knew this because he signed it once as if he wanted me to know what his dick looked like. There were other small clues that I detected with my gay radar so that had to be it, I just happened to be the unfortunate receiver of his gay rage.

I was scrubbing my locker with alcohol wipes that I kept in my locker for this exact reason when Patrick walked up behind me. “Hey fag! Stop cleaning your locker with that frown on your face. We know you love looking at our dick drawings.” His teammates snickered, they laughed at everything he did. 

“C’mon let’s see that smile. I know you want to,” he grabbed the sides of my face to pull my cheeks into a smile then shoved me hard against the locker. He laughed as he and his teammates walked away. 

My face was hot with fury. I didn’t fight back because not only was he twice my size, but I was clearly outnumbered, his teammates worshipped everything he did. Also, like I said, I believed he was only taking his gay frustration out on me and hoped that one day he might come around. One day he did, just not in the way I was expecting.

---

I was staying late on a Monday night finishing up the team laundry after a long tournament weekend. I’d thought I was alone, so I was startled when I heard Patrick barge into the locker room. Apparently, he was irritated with his performance in the tournament and had stayed late to shoot additional shots in the gym. He didn’t utter a word to me and headed straight to the showers. 

The locker room had an open layout, so in order to get to the washing and drying machine from the lockers where I was folding the jerseys, I had to walk past the opening of the communal showers. I walked to the dryer to get more clothes and took a peek into the showers. He was facing the wall with his head dropped back shampooing his coarse brown hair. His powerful biceps flexed as he rubbed his scalp and shower droplets rained on his muscular bubble butt.

I kept it moving so he wouldn’t catch me staring, but I caught another peek on the way back. This time he was scrubbing his body while standing at an angle that gave me a full view of his large cock peeping through his hairy bush. I almost tripped over myself and scattered the laundry in my hands. I hurried past the view of the shower opening and I set the laundry down stunned. I’d never seen his dick in full view like that, I’d caught glimpses of his dick here and there, but he'd been standing in a way where he almost wanted me to see all of it. 

In that case, I was very appreciative because although he was an absolute prick, boy was he hot. I continued folding jerseys and putting them in lockers. But eventually I’d reached a point where I needed to go to Patrick’s section of the locker room to put some jerseys in the lockers on that side. He’d been drying himself off for quite some time now. I’d been waiting for him to leave but if I wanted to get home at a decent time tonight, I just had to finish my job, no matter what he might say to me. I walked over to his side of the locker room, and there he stood fully naked facing the lockers and drying his hair. This was the closest I’d seen his naked body, and I tried not to stare as I put the jerseys away. I put my head down and tried to finish placing jerseys in lockers as fast as possible. Then, he dropped his towel on the floor and bent down to pick it up. I couldn’t help myself, I snuck a glance, but when I did he looked back and caught me gawking. 

“What the fuck fag!? Quit looking at my dick!” He walked over to me without his towel, and I stared at the ground in fear. 

“You know what? Since you like looking at my dick so much, why don’t you suck it? Yeah, suck my dick fag!” He shoved me against the lockers, and I tried to walk away. 

“No, you're not leaving now,” he grabbed me by my arm and pushed me to my knees, “You’re going to suck my dick.”

He slapped his heavy dick on my face. I was shocked by what was happening, but once I came to my senses, I didn’t need much coercion. After a few dick slaps, I opened my mouth and swallowed his cock. I bobbed my head back and forth on his cock but apparently he didn't like that I was enjoying it so much because he grabbed my head and began power thrusting the back of my throat. Despite, gagging and choking up saliva like crazy, I could feel his dick hardening against my tongue. He shoved his bush against my lips, and I felt his rock hard dick against the back of my throat. He pulled out only to shove my nose into his ball sack. I smelt his familiar musky scent that I knew from smelling his underwear. I sucked on his balls and he let out a few moans until he realized it was getting too sensual. 

“Come here fag.” He sat on the bench and draped me ass up across his lap. 

SMACK! 

“Ow!” I let out a yelp in surprise at him spanking me. 

This only encouraged him because he gave my ass a couple more painful smacks. 

“That’s right bitch! Don’t ever let me catch you staring at my dick again!”

SMACK! 

“I don’t let fags check me out, only bitches,” he declared after another brutal spank. 

I decided to take a risk. He'd already gone far, but I wanted him to accept his gayness. So, I said, “I am your bitch.”

“Is that so?” He paused before spanking me again. “I’ll need to fuck you if you’re my bitch,” he slid his finger in my asshole. 

“Yes, fuck me please! I’m your bitch!”

He fingered me with more intensity and I let out enticing moans.

“Sorry for looking at your dick. You need to punish me!” I pleaded. 

“That’s right! You need to be punished!” He seemed to really buy in to the encouragement because before I knew it I was face down ass up on the linoleum floor and he was sticking his dick in my ass. 

“I’m your bitch! Punish me!”

This final encouragement sent him over the edge because he began jackhammering my ass without restraint. He didn’t ease into it at all and it was excruciating, but I was okay with because he was finally embracing his gayness. 

He ruthlessly smacked my ass so that the inside and outside of my ass was on fire. He grabbed my shoulders for leverage and penetrated me with such force that the slaps of his balls against my ass were almost louder than my screams that echoed throughout the locker room. 

“You’re my bitch!” He announced through labored breathing. He flipped me over onto my back and put my legs over his shoulders as he speared my ass like he was trying to actually spear his dick through my body. “You’re my bitch,” he repeated, looking me in the eyes as I he said it to make sure I knew. 

“I’m your bitch,” I nodded in agreement despite nearly passing out from the pain and euphoria. My legs dangled helplessly in the air behind his broad shoulders and his chiseled chest and abs gorgeously contracted with each thrust while decorated with beads of sweat.

He brought my ankles together and pushed them as close to my head as they could go. Letting out a gay rage shout, he somehow began fucking me harder. I fought back tears while I cheered him on, “Yes… Yes! … YES!” 

On my final ‘yes,’ his body shuddered to signal the start of his ejaculation. Although he was still penetrating me, I’d dreamed of tasting his cum way too much for me not to get a taste. I pulled back and twisted around to stick his dick in my mouth. I did it too quick for him to object. Seconds later, his semen shot into my mouth like missiles and the taste that hit my tongue was even sweeter than I’d imagined. His dick pulsed for several seconds, releasing a massive load, much to my delight. 

When he’d finally finished, I looked up at him, wondering what his post-nut actions would be. He stood up and pulled me up with him. I was only eye level with his chin, but I looked up at his eyes with big eyes of wonder. 

“You're my bitch,” he whispered, and he slid his thumb slowly into my mouth. 

I sucked his thumb with the same fervor as I did his dick and never broke eye contact. He gripped my ass cheek as he tried to deep throat my mouth with his thumb. Appearing satisfied, he removed his finger and stared at me for a while as if he was hesitating to kiss me. As before, I felt he needed a little nudge of encouragement. So I stood on my tippy toes and held my lips within an inch of his so that we could feel each other’s breath. Not a moment later, he kissed me with the utmost passion. He slammed me into the lockers as his tongue invaded my mouth, and he bit my lip til it bled. He kissed me like he’d been waiting to kiss a man all his life. Minutes passed and he was still kissing me with the same intensity as the start. We traded spit and I marveled at how I was getting Patrick McConnan, the guy who hated gays, to taste his own cum from my tongue. Neither of us wanted to pull away, but eventually he pulled back, seeming to suddenly remember to maintain his act.  

“Don’t tell anyone about this,” he said gruffly, resuming his character and averting eye contact. 

I smiled at his insecurity. If only he could be as proud to be gay as I was, we could do this more often. 

“Of course. As long as we do this again,” I said biting my lip. 

“I’m still going to call you fag,” he said almost ashamed. “But don’t forget, you’re still my bitch,” he looked at me one last time before he hurriedly put on his clothes and walked out of the locker room.  

For the rest of the season, he still bullied me like before, at times even worse. But he made his bullying tolerable by sprinkling in nights where he bullied me with his dick.