David and the Dawg Pack

Authors note: I strove to deliver a vivid story with a lot of character development. This first chapter is long and it gets into the “good stuff” if you keep reading. Please give feedback afterwards that may help guide future chapters. I hope you enjoy!

David and the Dawg Pack

Young hockey players skated hard on the ice, whacking away at the puck up and down the rink. They wore a mish mash of different branded jerseys donned over their bulky gear. Most of them were young men trying out for a spot on the Port Duncan Bulldogs, a junior hockey league in British Columbia, Canada. They came from all over North America.

The star who immediately stuck out was a smaller sized boy. He was David Prusa, 18, aspiring for a right wing slot on the team. Off the ice, the hotshot was a shy, mild-mannered young man. He was a bright blue eyed cute, slender lad with beautiful, wavy brown hair; thick as a bushel of wheat. On the ice, however, the kid was a real hotdog, skating faster and more nimbly than anyone. He was also quick and accurate on his shot. What he lacked in physical stature, he made up for in lightning skill.

The boy had the attention of the coaches. From the stands nearby, a small group of the team’s current players also had their eye on the young stud. The group of guys were known as the “Dawg Pack,” mostly starters from the squad.

“Checkout Speed Racer!” Nick laughed, watching from the stands with his buddies in the Dawg Pack.

Nick Miller, 21, was the starting lineup center and team captain. He was an attractive and jockish dude with bushy blonde hair. Nick exuded confidence on and off the ice. He was the de facto leader of the Dawg Pack clique.

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Flanking him to his right was Carson Yewchuck, 19, a left-wing starter. He was good looking, broey type –a meathead meets a surfer – towhead blonde with baby blue eyes. Carson was a happy go lucky character who liked playing pranks and fucking with his teammates; sometimes with sexual undertones. Because of his crazy, goofball personality, his nickname was “Chucky Cheese.”

Flanked to Nick’s left was Aiden Penner, 19. He was a defense starter, a masculine pretty boy with a military style blonde buzzcut. He was tall, broad shouldered, and smoothly muscled. He was the most classically beautiful of the bunch and the local girls called him Aiden the Adonis.

Next to Aiden was his best friend, Denny Tremblay, 19, who played defense as well. He was a ruggedly handsome, black haired young man with pasty, milky skin, and a hint of a white trash who spoke with a slow drawl. He had a sexy swagger about him. He and Denny were inseparable.

Last in their crew, also watching the tryouts, was Kenneth “Pug” Pugliese, 18. He was the team’s starting lineup goalie. He was smaller than the rest of his clique; boyishly cute, clean cut with short light brown hair, and kind blue eyes. He was similar in age and size to David. Although he was pretty low key and easy going compared to the rest of the cocky Dawg Pack, he was tight with the posse.

There was one other member of their band of bros, however, who was participating on the ice with the newbies. It was Carl “Stink Boy” Erhart, 20.  He was a right wing substitute. The badass was lean and muscled with a real mean streak. Everyone knew not to mess with him. He had cropped short brown hair and a light scruff of facial hair over his square jaw. His body was covered with tattoos. He earned his name “Stink Boy” because he had notoriously bad hygiene, something he bolstered by skipping showers and wearing the same gear for days on end.  

Carl was now facing off with young David. His role there was twofold, assisting the coaches as they assessed the newbies but also in actuality auditioning himself for a starting lineup slot as a right wing. The faceoff was personal to him.

When the puck dropped, young Prusa, a real sniper, a pure scoring winger showed once more his speed and skill. He took possession of the puck, flew down the ice, and navigated past the opposing defense. When Carl caught up with him, David faked a forehand shot, went to his backhand and shot the puck into the net. This threw Carl off his balance who slipped and fell on the ice. He stood up, angered to be so embarrassed in front of his buddies up in the bleachers. He didn’t like that some little punk bested him. He shoved David down on the ice, landing him on his side hip, possibly causing injury he hit so hard.

“Asswipe! Stay down unless you want a fight!” Carl warned.

From the stands, his Dawg Pack were laughing and saying as well, “Stay down little man! Stay down” towards the kids’ direction as they watched what he would do.  

Prusa ignored the threat and the pain. He stood back up and boldly faced the bigger, older boy. Carl just chuckled, threw off his gloves, and aggressively grabbed the smaller youth, ready to punch him in the mouth. In the nick of time, though, the coaches skated over and broke up the fight.

The Dawg Pack reacted again with laughter. “He’s got balls!” Denny admitted referring to the kid. They agreed “Stink Boy” was gonna want them to own this boy’s ass soon and good. “Yea, if makes the team,” Aiden said. “I hope so. We’ll have fun breaking that one in,” Carson replied. Kenneth just grinned at his buddies and shook his head.

“Let’s get suited up, fellas. We’re next on the ice,” Nick told the rest of the group.

A few minutes later…

The Bulldog’s locker room, a modest sized cinder block and concrete built cavern of rusty metal lockers and wooden benches, was crowded. It was filled with its current members who were suiting up for hockey practice and the new youths who just finished trying out on the ice. The damp room was filled with youthful exuberance and testosterone as sweaty, half naked or half-dressed young men carried about. It reeked of typical odors all players knew and grew to love. It was the smell of dirty feet, armpits, and most of all that familiar musty aroma of wet, old hockey gear.

As the current teammates suited up, including the gaggle of young men making up the Dawg Pack, they all had eyes on Assistant Coach Anthony Zarco giving young David Prusa a new team uniform. He congratulated him with a handshake. The boy’s brand-new blue jersey had the number 10 in orange decal on the back. His name would be printed on it later. Prusa was one of four rookies to make the team but he was the star, the hotshot, who made starting lineup.

Zarco was a relatively young man himself, 27. Fit and handsome. He was a former NHL player whose career ended after an injury so he was sympathetic as he asked how David was doing after the incident on the ice. Zarco had chastised Carl earlier and warned him to reign it in. David brushed it off though, not wanting to be the new guy who whined about being bullied. Zarco patted him on the back and called him a good sport. He told David to get checked out in the training room, regardless.

On the way to his new locker, the youth was beaming with a smile, so happy to have made it on the team. He walked through the crowded locker room past boys in various states of nudity, heading for the showers after their tryouts. Most of them weren’t lucky ones like David. As he passed by Nick, Carson, Kenneth, Aiden, Denny, and Carl, whose lockers were close together, they stopped him. The Dawg Pack was suiting up for the actual first practice of the day.

“Congrats ‘Quicksilver’, This team could use a good sub,” Nick said with a chuckle as the kid passed.

“Thanks, uh, right wing starting lineup, actually,” David proudly corrected, not getting the joke Nick was making.

The lads cracked up and Carson roared looking Carl’s way, “Oh man, ‘Stink Boy.’ Hear that? Pip squeak is bragging about taking your spot, bro!”

Carl was in the middle of putting on a pair of long, sheer white socks that looked pretty worn and dingy. As he continued suiting up in his sweaty gear, he mouthed off, “The runt is gonna get his.” Looking around at his buddies he added with an odd tone, “I think one of our players is having an operation tonight. We gonna be there?”

The rest of the guys, seated together on the dressing benches, chuckled quietly and looked coyly at one another, as if they knew what Carl was referring to but didn’t want to respond. It couldn’t have been a good sign.

Young David, however, was an innocent sort and new to the odd, machismo culture. He didn’t understand there was a threat. He was oblivious to the Dawg Pack’s devious minds and their penchant for breaking down rookies in the most degrading of ways. David shyly smiled, nodded, and moved on to drop off his uniform at his new locker. Then he headed to the sports medicine room, or alternatively known as the training room, for some physical therapy.

On the way to the treatment room, he passed by two of his fellow rookies who made the cut. He slowed down to chat but the pair had a dismissive air and continued on. David shrugged it off.

Inside the training room he met Spencer Schuldt, 18, the team’s jack of all trades. He was the sports trainer, the equipment manager, and sometimes basic janitor. He was a local young man – a “townie” – who mostly volunteered his time to the Bulldogs because he had aspirations of becoming a licensed physical therapist. He planned on college next year after high school and getting out of that small hockey obsessed town he hated. He was a lanky, nerdy sort with wavy, reddish brown hair, and green eyes. He was quirky cute. 

“Heard about your little altercation. Erhart is a hothead,” Spencer said. He knew about the incident because one of the new recruits was another local kid that Spencer knew from town. “Let’s check you out.”

The teenage jock pulled his jersey and shoulder pads so he could drop down his suspenders to remove his padded pants. His Under Armour long sleeve compression shirt, sweat soaked, stuck to his slender frame. He then pulled down slightly his padded hockey underpants, which a cross between a jockstrap and padded compression shorts.  He pulled them down just enough to expose the top half of his butt so the trainer could do his work. Spencer applied an ice pack over the bruised area just behind the boy’s left hip, over his left buttock, and held it there while he wrapped a special roll of tape around it. Spencer geekily took pride in explaining it was Vetrap bandage, the latest in sports medicine technology. It was better than ace bandage because it was stretchy and self-adhesive. Once it’s on, it’s not coming off unless you peel or cut it off. Spencer wrapped the blue colored sticky bandage around David’s waist then the top portion of his left thigh to hold the cold pact over the left buttock.  David found Spencer’s nerdish, eager innocence welcoming, being surrounded by cocky, arrogant jock heads.

“You had a rubdown before?” Spencer then asked.

“Not really I guess,” David shrugged.

“Hop up and lay down, you deserve it,” the young trainer offered. “Take off the compression wear.”

David felt comfortable with him and didn’t think twice about stripping butt naked before the young trainer. His sweaty UA undershirt and padded compression shorts came off. The skinny but muscle toned athlete jumped up on the rubber padded table and laid face down.

“I kinda stink,” David apologized.

“I’m used to it from you guys,” Spencer giggled as he began to treat the youth to a deep tissue rubdown. “I can handle it.”

Prusa was surprised by how strong the lanky, young trainer’s hands were and appreciated his touch right away.

They had a conversation about many things as the chatty Spencer educated him about the team and the culture. David learned about the Dawg Pack and their reputation. David took it in stride. He also discovered the boarding house, the Schmitzel House, he’d be lodging at housed much of the young team since most players came from all over Canada and the US. Port Duncan was a stopping point for young hockey players hoping to make it in the NHL.

David was feeling so much better as Spencer dug his strong hands into the muscles on his shoulders and back. He even worked on his upper thighs and gluts which was a new and unusually good feeling to the lad. It was a welcome relief from a stressful morning in his new, intimidating world.

“See, we’re not all jerks. Spence here is the bomb! He’s got the ‘magic hands’,” Kenneth exclaimed as he walked into the sports medicine room unannounced during the rubdown. The small framed goalie was suited up in his uniform, eating a sandwich and an apple, presenting a friendly demeanor.

“Thanks man, and didn’t know I was taking your friends starter spot. Guess you guys hate me. Wish I could do a re-set,” David admitted, looking over to Kenneth.

“Don’t take anything personal, dude. A rookie, especially a starter, is gonna take shit. Just roll with it. We all went thru it. I got your back. Welcome to the team!” Kenneth smiled.

Kenneth came over and shook hands with the young rookie and said, “I’m Kenneth. But I go by Pug, too. Where are you from?”

“Iowa,” David answered.

“Hey, I’m from the states too, Indiana. Cool! We’re both a long way from home, but that’s what you do for glory on the way to the NHL. You’re really sharp out there, you’re gonna get a lot out of this.”

“Thanks, glad you’re on my side at least, ha hah. I appreciate it!”

“Like I said, I got your back. See yea at your first practice tomorrow!” Kenneth waved as he left the doorway frame back to the loud, crowded locker room, leaving the door open.

“These players!” Spencer joked, shaking his head, as he went to the door and closed it. He returned to a very relaxed and thankful David, moving down to his calves and skillfully massaging them with deep pressure.

“Ohhhh, man!” young David sighed with blissful pleasure.

Sometime later…

David, content and revived, had showered and returned to his new team’s locker room. He had removed the ice pack and tape, then dressed back in his street clothes. He was alone in the dressing room eagerly outfitting his locker. He took a wide strip of white athletic tape and wrote “Prusa #10” on it with a sharpie and taped it over his locker trench, proud to see his name and jersey number displayed. He was too excited to wait for the official placard to be printed out.

Then they arrived.

The Dawg Pack clan, minus Kenneth, trampled into the locker room, the five of them, taking off their gloves, helmets and various padding. They dropped them to the concrete floor, making noise that got David’s attention. He turned around to see the devious grins on their sweaty faces. Clearly, they were just back from a grueling workout on the ice but looked hungry for trouble.

“Well, I think he needs a shave. What do you think guys?” Nick suggested with a sinister tone.

“Ah, yea I already shaved,” David nervously smiled.

“When? Last month!” Aiden joked.

“I don’t think he knows what we mean,” Denny grinned.

David knew this wasn’t good and looked for ways to escape, eyeing the various exits.

“I think he’s gonna do something funny, guys,” Carl alerted.

David was like a cornered animal with no place good to go but nonetheless tried to make a break for it. He dared off towards the nearest exit point.

“Get ‘em fellas!” Carson hollered.

The gaggle of hockey players effortlessly grabbed the rookie and manhandled him into submission. He tried to fight them off but couldn’t. He began to yell for help but his mouth was covered with one of their hands. They hoisted him up and dragged him into the sports medicine room. Spencer was no longer there, gone for the day.

In a mad flurry of activity, as the Dawg Pack crew cheered and roared, they stripped off young David’s clothes from top to bottom. They yanked off his underwear and plopped the boy’s naked butt ass side down on the treatment table he had been so relaxed on an hour before. The cluster of older teens held him down while Captain Nick found a box of extra suspenders and belts used for hockey pants and poured them on top of David’s nude body. The athletes immediately began using the various items as bondage straps to tie him down! He fought the best he could but there too many of them and all bigger than he.

The kid’s upper arms and thighs were spread out to the opposite ends of the massage table. They grabbed his forearms, winged them back behind his head and tied each of his wrists to the tops of the table leg posts behind and below him. Keeping his thighs spread on the padding, they pulled down his lower legs and secured his ankles to the legs posts at the foot of the table. The suspenders and belts were strong and secure and easy to knot. Last they took some athletic cloth tape and wrapped his hands into balled up fists so that his fingers were prevented from messing with the knots. His attackers were cruel, clever ones who clearly knew what they were doing. He was spread-eagled, face up, stark naked, on the table.

During the strapping down, the rookie tried to cry out for help, hoping other teammates or coaches would hear him. His thick lock of hair was grabbed to hold his head still and one of them shoved their sweaty wristband into his mouth. This was immediately followed by a generous wrapping of Vetrap bandage, this time orange colored ones. It enveloped the lower half of his face multiple times. It made a very effective gag.

“Mmmphh, Mmmphh, Mmmphh!” David gasped into his gag, trying to fight it off his face but quickly determined it wasn’t going anywhere.

For an extra laugh, Carson took the strip of white tape adorning David’s locker and slapped it over the tightly wound bandage gagging him. The words “Prusa #10” was now prominently sealed over his mumbling face.

The Dawg Pack delighted in their capture and wanted a memory of it so they grabbed their cell phones to take pictures of the helpless, humiliated rookie.

“Wait!” Carson stopped them. “Let’s give the poor kid some dignity, “ he followed sarcastically with a chuckle.

Carson next grabbed one of David’s hockey gloves from his locker and placed it between the boy’s legs, pushing it up into his crotch, cupping his genitals inside the opening of the warm leather glove. Though it covered his private parts, it would make for a more hilarious, demeaning  photograph.

“Now we can post the pictures online and not get busted for kiddie porn, ha hah! Nice move ‘Chucky Cheese’!” Carl howled, high fiving Carson.

The guys snapped away, taking plenty of pictures of David in his embarrassing state; spread eagled, butt naked, with only his hockey glove covering his crotch. The tape with “Prusa #10” on his gag made for a nice touch. His hazers joked that mommy and daddy back home should get a photo of him like that so they knew their American farm boy was being treated to good ole Canadian hospitality.

“Mmmhhhm!” the poor kid grunted with anger.

Then…

Assistant Coach Zarco could be heard from the locker room calling out for anyone still at the facility. The Dawg Pack quickly stopped what they were doing and smartened up. They filed out in a cluster from the small training room, comically stumbling over each other as they tightly burst through the doorway of the training room, not wanting the coach to see their bound victim back there. They shut the door behind them.

With his first moment alone, David valiantly fought the restraints which mostly served to flex his biceps, pecs, and calves’ muscles as his slender body bucked and gyrated on the table. Worse, the belts and suspenders tied around his wrists and ankles only tightened more. He could only yell for help, which he did.

Meanwhile, outside the training room door, the Dawg Pack stood close together looking suspicious as they faced Coach Zarco with smirks on their faces. Standing with Zarco as well was their buddy Kenneth, aka Pug, who had been meeting with him in his office.

“What are you Dawgers up to?” Zarco asked with eyes squinting. ‘Dawgers was another term for their Dawg Pack.

“Just putting some Icy Hot on,” Nick said as the rest of his crew surrounding him nodded humorously in agreement, saying “Yup,” and “yea” etc.

“All of you needed to be there for that?” coach questioned.

“We travel in a pack, coach! We’re the Dawg Pack!” Carson chuckled as the others followed with affirmative responses.

Meanwhile, behind them in the training room, the bound rookie was still trying to get Coach Zarco’s attention by gasping and grunting as loudly as he could through his gag, wiggling in his bonds.

The collective of the hockey players standing in front of the door as they yammered away helped drown out the noise. Zarco couldn’t hear the powerless teenager.

“Yea, ok fellas. Keep it under control and don’t break anything… or anyone. That includes new members, right Erhart?” Zarco said looking authoritatively at Carl.

“Yup, coach!” he smiled big.

The young coach knew the culture and kept a hands-off policy on most of the rowdy antics the boys played. As long as they brought it on the ice, he was happy. Perhaps he knew what was going on behind the group of players and didn’t think it was necessary to intervene?

Coach Zarco looked to Nick and to Kenneth to be the responsible ones and lock up the place before they left. He told them, however, that Spencer the trainer would be there some time later that night to drop off an air unit they purchased.

After the young coach left, Nick quickly instructed the gang to “Prep for surgery!”

Kenneth knew what that meant all too well and shook his head. He looked at Carl and said, “You better not have gone too far!”

“Just the routine bro!” Carl laughed. “See for yourself,” he said gesturing to the training room door.

As the others got various things together for their hazing ritual in the locker room, Kenneth stepped inside the sports medicine room to check on David.

The young team goalie saw the newest rookie, naked and tied down helpless as a lamb, beet red all over with humiliation. Kenneth looked at him with sympathetic eyes and said, “I’d untie you but they’d get you sooner or later. This is kind of a rite of passage. We all go through it.”

“Mmmm nnn, mmm nnn!” David tried to disagree with Kenneth as he shook his head begging to be released. The boy was so frustrated that he couldn’t speak through his gag or rub it off his face. That damn Vetrap bandage was too good.

The rest of the Dawg Pack stampeded back through the doorway, past Pug, their bulky gear clanking against one another as they returned to carry out the team’s infamous initiation.

They huddled around table and placed their hands all around David’s slim, nude frame, holding down his spread-out limbs. Sweat dripped from the faces down on the kid’s smooth, bare flesh. Kenneth even joined them in the debauchery, pinning David down, though he wasn’t whooping and hollering with rowdy excitement like the rest of his teammates.

They were waiting on their leader, Captain Nick, to appear and begin the sacred hazing ritual they had in store. Carl slapped around David’s face a little and said, “Don’t worry, kid. You won’t feel a thing. I got the ‘gas mask’ for you.”

“Man, so not cool!” Kenneth shook his head at Carl, knowing what the ‘gas mask’ was. The others laughed and told him to “put a sock in it” and not be so serious.

David wondered what the “gas mask” meant but understood it couldn’t be good.

Suddenly the players were ready to begin their initiation game as they saw Nick coming their way.

“Ding! Ding! Paging Dr.Miller!” Carson playfully shouted out while he and the others stood around young David holding him still on the sports table.

Nick appeared in the huddle and David got his first look up at him. He was in a costume of sorts. His hands were covered with latex gloves, held up as if he just sterilized them. Over his face was a clean jockstrap with the words “Dr. Miller” written over the waistband in black sharpie. It was made to look like a surgical mask.

“The doctor, is here!” Nick said dramatically in a parodied, lower voice. “Scalpel!”

“Scalpel!” Aiden repeated in a goofy voice as handed Nick a straight razor ominously fixed with a large razor blade.

“Shaving cream!” Nick then dictated in character.

“Shaving cream!” Denny replied, also using a funny tone, handing him a can of Edge Gel shaving cream.

David saw Nick flicking open the straight razor, grasping the shaving gel canister. He knew his crotch was the target.

“Mmmmhh mm! Mmmh nnmm!” he whimpered in protest through his gag, pleading for mercy. He struggled like a wild animal trying to escape the bindings and the grips of sweaty hands holding him down but it was futile. 

“Woah! Woah! Hold him still boys! We don’t want another Reggie Wheeler incident now do we?” Nick said.

“Poor Regina! And he really wanted children!” Aiden crowed, glaring down at David.

David kept up his pointless struggles, shaking his head and moaning, “MMmm! Mmmm!”

“Time for the ‘gas mask’!” Carl alerted everyone.

“Well, the patient clearly is still conscious so, Dr. Stink Boy, if you don’t mind administering the ‘gas mask’,” Nick responded.

Carl pulled off his jersey and pads then dropped down his suspenders so he could slip out of his hockey pants. There it was. The gas mask. He proudly wore a classic jockstrap, with a banana protective cup in the pouch. It was a dingy, frayed disgusting thing that had seen a lot of wear. Normally white, it was so filthy that the jock strap was dullen brown and grey in coloration. The smell of it and his crotch was already filling the room. Carl had the name “Stink Boy” for good reason. It was as if Carl had a fetish for this kind of thing.

Carl slipped off his smelly jockstrap and held it up like a fresh catch from the lake, beaming with pride for the others to see. They all gasped at how rank and putrid it was and poor David looked up mortified by the sight and the scent.

“Dude! Smells like horse balls!” Denny exclaimed, waving his hand over his face. 

David wiggled and squirmed around under their clutches and groaned once more, “Mmmhhhm mmm! Mmmmmhhmm mmm!”

“He’s a fighter! I think he needs gas right now, ha hah,” Carl laughed.

The scruffy faced, tattoo covered stinky player then took his jock-strap, placed it over his butt cheeks and bent his knees. “Wait for it!” Carl squinted.

“Dude come on!” Kenneth complained, not approving of Carl’s action but his teammates held him back.

Laughter filled the room as the Dawg Pack chanted, “Gas! Gas! Gas! Gas!”

Carl let out a high pitched, long and sustained fart. He farted a second time, then a third. The fabric of the pouch, housed with his protective cup was positioned over his butt crack and took in all the gross blasts of unpleasant gas.

Aiden and Denny grabbed the rookie by his thick lock of hair so his head couldn’t move. Carl took his sweaty jockstrap and cupped it, upside down, over David’s face. He tied the butt straps and the waistband into knots behind David’s head so the raunchy, foul fabric pouch and its cup sealed firmly over the poor kid’s nose!

The young rookie was holding his breathing as long as he could but ultimately had to give in, taking a deep breath and experiencing the foul thing through his nostrils.

“Mmmphh!!” David groaned in agony as panted heavily for air, sucking in overwhelming man stink.

Being gagged, he was forced to sniff in the nasty, intense vapors through his nose. The young man looked so sickened by it, rolling back his eyes, shaking his head in discomfort. He had to endure the terrible scent of his nemesis’ warm farts and the smell of his swampy crotch sweat.

Everyone but Kenneth were brutally giggling at the kid’s expense. He felt sorry for the young man. This was something the others didn’t have to endure in their hockey hazing rituals. It was Carl’s special payback. Maybe getting punched in the face would have been better.

As if that wasn’t enough, Nick began the nut shave task.

Nick removed the hockey glove from between David’s legs. The boy’s groin was now exposed for all the players to see. He had a nice sized cock and a large saggy nut sack for such a small, skinny kid. The amount of pubic hair surrounding his genitals and collected on his balls, however, were modest, as appropriate for an eighteen-year-old teenager.

“Lookie! Lookie! This shouldn’t take long at all!” Nick mocked the star rookie.

David glanced down at his privates then up at the team captain with puppy dog eyes as he watched him squirt Edge shaving gel all over his dick and ball sack. It was a cool, blue stream that tickled on impact.

“Nurses, your assistance,” Nick snickered in his parodied adult doctor voice.

Denny and Aiden knew what this meant. They were up now for their part in this wicked hazing roleplay. They reluctantly spread the blue gel around David’s genitals, working it up into a light white lather and made grimaces of disgust. They hated it.

“Move aside!” Carson laughed, bucking his two teammates out of the way. “I’ll show you how it’s done!”

The broey, dopey towhead jokester went right into it, more intensely lathering up the teen’s groin, to activate the gel into a thick white foam. He caressed his boy nuts, glided his fingers into the corner crevices of his crotch, and had no shame in completing the intimate task.  

All that fondling, though, got to David. He had never been touched by another guy and it was unavoidably stimulating. He started to form an erection. He was so embarrassed when his dick sprang upward.

“Look! He’s poppin’ a boner!” Carl hee-hawed.

Nick was unphased by the erection and proceeded with business. With the straight razor in hand, he moved towards David’s testicles and started there. The blade went through the white foam and contacted the fleshy skin of his scrotum. David then felt the cool, thin blade roughly glide over his nuts, feeling all the little pubic hairs taken with it.

“Mphhh grrhh!” the helpless rooky groveled through his muzzled face, as he felt the humiliation of his crotch being shaved by his new teammates.

The athletes hooped and hollered, rejoicing in the rookie’s embarrassment. They egged on their team captain to shave down the rookie further.

As they eagerly watched and held David still, Nick continued to move the shaving tool to the side of his scrotum, removing more pubes, brushing over the saggy skin, skillfully avoiding any cuts or nicks. He did a few more swipes, taking on the more difficult areas first. An embarrassed David, maintaining his woody, looked down and watched as his pubic hairs were being cut away.

Nick wiped the excess foam and scattering of pubes on to a towel they kept between the boy’s legs.

“Who’s next?” Nick exclaimed.

Each member of the Dawg Pack crew would get their turn shaving David’s dick and balls. It was tradition that all of them participated in the unusually homoerotic sports hazing.

“Let’s get this fag shit over with, ha hah,” Aiden crowed taking ownership of the straight razor. He applied the blade to David’s innermost right thigh, adjacent to the fleshy testicles, because he said that was the least offensive area to touch. He stroked the razor along the skin and took a fair amount of hair off. “There!” he said relieved, wiping the blade on the towel.

Aiden handed the razor to his best buddy Denny, who also expressed disgust for taking his turn. Nonetheless, he shaved David’s innermost left thigh and did his job.

Carson volunteered to be next. The jockish bro, true to his no holds barred nature, was eager. He boldly grabbed the young boy’s hard dick, clutching his around the shaft, and pulled it up and back, making David’s saggy balls clear the way to see underneath. David yelped from the awkward sensation and tensed up his body, feeling so violated yet stimulated. Carson dug in with the blade, shaving the hairs underneath his nuts and around his gooch area. He even made several passes, wiping down the blade with the towel each time, doing a thorough job.

“Nice work ‘Chucky Cheese’,” Carl told Carson as the two studs high fived.

Carl was next and when Carson passed off the razor to him, all of the team reacted. “’Stink Boy’ has a weapon. Watch out, this one might hurt ‘lil guy,” Aiden said.

“Yea, I might slip and cut off your nuts!” Carl grinned deviously looking down at David.

David looked worried and lifted his head as he nervously struggled to watch because his eyes were partially obstructed by the pouch of the dirty jock masked to his face.  Carl advanced towards his groin. The nemesis now had, for all practical purposes, a knife at his dick.

“MMmmmh nnhmm, mmm nnh!!” David grunted, not liking what was about to happen.

Carl moved around David’s stiff dick and settled the razor on the patch of hair above his groin nearing his waist. There was a more generous amount of pubic hair here. He even rubbed more of the shaving foam into the patch, pressing down hard, causing David some discomfort. Then he began stroking and wicking the razor along the boy’s flesh, pulling away at all the densely collected hair. Being so bunched up as they were there, this was the most painful area to be shaved and David hated every minute of it. Carl knew it and just snickered back at the kid. The hockey bully, though, didn’t cut or scratch him and finished the job without a drop of blood.

David dropped his head back down in relief when Carl was done. The stress and worry, however, broke him out into a sweat that coated his whole red flushed body.

“You’re up!” Nick said looking at Kenneth.

“Nah, I’m good,” Kenneth said. Of course, Nick wouldn’t hear of it and motioned him to take the razor.

“Pug! Pug! Pug! Pug!” the rest of the team chanted, slapping Kenneth on the back, working him into compliance.

Kenneth glared toward David who shot him a look back as if saying “It’s ok,” with his eyes and modestly nodding his head.

Kenneth reluctantly took the razor and placed it around the base of David’s shaft were some healthy amounts of pubic hair remained. Since the boy was rock hard, it was a relatively easy area to navigate without having to move his dick or nuts out of the way. As Kenneth spliced away the pubes, he looked back at David and said, “It grows back, I promise!”

“Ahhhhh!” Kenneth’s teammates collectively mocked their buddy Pug. “Stop coddling your boyfriend!”

Nick tidied up the rest of the shave while the boys still held the kid still. When it was all done, the poor rookie had a clean-shaven crotch as smooth as the day he was born. The only thing in the area spared was a light, thin happy trail of hair leading up to his navel.

The fellas decided to group together for a selfie and stood around their newly shaven victim, making goofy faces as they snapped a picture with an iPhone. Nick proudly help up the straight razor in frame of the camera, showing a dollop of shaving cream with bits of David’s freshly removed pubic hair. “Say cheese!!” they smiled for the photo.

When they were all finished, the tightknit posse debated how to handle David, with Nick getting a consensus. Kenneth insisted they untie him and let him go. One of them, though, objected, not wanting the party to end for the poor newcomer.

“Spencer can find him later tonight. It’ll be a nice surprise,” Carl insisted, wanting David to stay tied up. “The dude deserves our thanks, guys! It’s the least we can do for all of Spence’s hard work!”

“MMmm nnn, mmmm nnn,” David shook his head, whining, wanting to be released. Would they really abandon him like this, he imagined?

Denny liked the idea and went along with Carl. Aiden agreed and said suspiciously, “Maybe he’ll give him a late-night rubdown, ha hah!” Carson said with a laugh, “Well nice for Spence, not so nice for #10 here! Sure!” and looked David’s way, adding, “Sorry, hotshot!”

David looked around as they debated, hearing these innuendos and concerned by what they meant. Carl, however, really made it clear for him. The nemesis leaned in to the boy and whispered, “Yea, you should be afraid. Spence is a homo. Like fuck you up the asshole gay. We hear he has a thing for twinks like you.” Carl let out a long roar of mean laughter as he pulled away from David.

As they walked out, Kenneth was more vocal about wanting to release David and not happy about the vote. But they browbeat their buddy into letting it go. David could faintly hear Kenneth threatening to return later to release him and nothing could stop him, etc. It was much comfort, but it was at least something.

The Dawg Pack had turned out the lights to the sports medicine room and the facility. They left the rookie tied down spread eagle to the treatment table, gagged, and still – unfortunately – sniffing on Carl’s foul and funky used jockstrap.

More time goes by…

Minutes seemed like hours. He had no concept of time. His hands were still wrapped up in a tape ball preventing him from using his fingers to work away at the knots attaching the restraints to his wrists. He could only buckle and pull at his restraints. The more he struggled, the more the belts and suspenders that strapped him down tightened around his wrists and ankles, furthering to cut off his circulation. He stopped fighting his captivity. David had been trying to rub off the tape bandage gag but the Vetrap, true to its guarantee, still wouldn’t loosen up or give way. He was staying gagged and would continue to taste of the one of the young men’s soaked wristbands in his mouth.

There was one small victory, however. He was able to successfully remove the disgusting, pungent jockstrap from his face by rubbing his head around constantly on the rubber padding of the table. It in the least allowed him to breathe a little better as he waited for rescue.  

The young man wondered why he was singled out when there were three other rookies who made the team. Where was their hockey initiation?

As more time went by…

Young David heard someone in the locker room outside the door. Maybe it was finally Spencer arriving to deliver the air conditioning unit. Maybe it was Kenneth returning as promised. He cried out for help, muffled by his gag. Whoever it was, they didn’t come into the training room so he continued.

The boy let out more muzzled screams at the top of his lungs until finally he heard the door open to the darkened physical therapy room. Someone stood in the doorway. It was pitch black in his room but faint light from the locker room behind the person cast him in a silhouette. The best he could make out, it was a male figure, probably young. Certainly, it was Kenneth or Spencer, he thought.

He continued to cry out to the rescuer glad to see help had arrived, though embarrassed to be seen like he was.

The mysterious young man closed the door, bringing the room back to total darkness, and David heard him walking towards his table. Why wasn’t the person saying anything he wondered? Was it not Spencer? Was it not Kenneth?  

He felt their hands grasping his hair, then placing his head into a lock under one of the stranger’s arms. Then he felt his eyes being wrapped up with something and quickly surmised he was being blindfolded by the infamous Vetrap bandage. The person wrapped it tight and skilled like a pro.

“Mmm!” David grunted.

After that, David could hear him move back to the wall, flick on the lights, and saw the faint illuminating glow from under the blindfold wrapping over his eyes. Still, he couldn’t see the stranger.

The young boy was terrified and confused. He was tied down stark naked to the rubber padded table, gagged, and blindfolded in a room with a silent stranger. Was it Kenneth or Spencer playing a cruel joke? The poor rookie already had enough abuse. What was going to happen?

His hands, both of them, contacted the boy’s feet and started to glide up his legs, brushing his hairs, then up his thighs, past his waist, then the sides of his chest past his pecs. They settled underneath his spread out arms, his fingers diving into the contours of the kid’s armpits nestling through the puffs of armpit hairs, and began to tickle him. David began to giggle reflexively, and thrust about in his restraints, unable to escape.

“Mmhhhh mmmm mmm, hmm,” David gasped.

Then the stranger moved his fingers down and into his pecs, finding the boy’s nipples. He squeezed them with his soft, supple, but strong fingers.

David jolted. He’d never been touched there and it was a profoundly intense feeling having his nipples pinched. He shook his head and moaned but the person didn’t stop. In fact, he was getting pinched harder. It was torment.

At this point, David realized it was no joke and he was experiencing assault.

The attacker moved down, running his fingers past the rookie’s chest and torso, over his belly button, and lightly pulled at the hairs of his happy trail until he reached the freshly shaved, smooth area of his upper groin. The fingers then stopped, just shy of his flaccid penis, which flopped to the side.

David panted, wondering what would the guy do next and braced for anything.

The stranger’s hands suddenly grabbed the teenager’s cock and wrapped his fingers around the fleshy shaft, gently squeezing it. Then he started to stroke him, slowly.

“Mmmmphhhh!” David yelped into his gag, shaking his head, wanting to be left alone.

The stranger continued, though, stroking him. David heard the sound of spit being ejected then felt the slimy stream of it coating his dick as the hand jerked faster, lubricated by the spit.

Eventually, David couldn’t help feeling naturally exhilarated by the sensation and began to get hard despite the fact he was being raped.

The jerking off continued until he was at a full erection.

“Mmphhh!’ David whimpered, feeling so violated and helpless but turned on at the same time. The virgin teenager was so easily aroused and felt guilty about enjoying it.

He got close to cumming and gave the tell-tale sign by tensing up, shuttering, and propping back his head about to explode.

“Mmmmmm!” he moaned.

The violator then stopped all at once, denying him release. Instead he moved back to his nipple and pinched them some more, this time even harder than the last.

“Grrmmmm mmmm grrrhhpph!” David groveled in frustration as he jerked in his restraints.

Unfortunately for David, this became a repeated pattern. The poor young hockey stud would get edged like these multiple times. The kid was in heaven and hell. He was brought close to cumming each time then denied any relief.

As the mysterious person proceeded again, the captive boy once more was close to spraying his nut juice, so ready to succumb to the exhilaration. David felt it welling up and it was going to happen any second.

The stranger leaned in with his body now in closer proximity to David’s face so that the boy could more definitively smell the faint hint of musty body odor that was unique to hockey players and their gear. Was it one of his teammates after all, like Kenneth? No way he thought!

David sensed the stranger was about to blow his load as well, feeling the shaking and pulsating of the stranger’s bicep against his ribcage, clearing jacking himself off. The stranger moaned in ecstasy, as did David. They were going to cum together.

David readied himself to climax, along with the stranger. They were milliseconds from shooting!

Then, suddenly, a voice was heard from outside in the locker room beyond the door.

“Is someone in there??” the familiar voice shouted curiously, gesturing towards the training room most likely. It was Spencer’s voice!

That immediately stopped everything and the stranger pulled his hand away from David’s cock and stopped masturbating himself.

“Mmmphh!” David whimpered in frustration, so close to squirting and denied once more.

“Shhh!” the stranger warned briefly cupping his hand over the boy’s mouth. He then slipped away and David heard the sound of a door behind him, not the main door to the locker room, opening and closing.

Next, David heard the main door from the locker room opening up.

“Oh shit!” Spencer exclaimed, discovering David bound and gagged naked on the table. He couldn’t miss the major erection sticking up with pre-cum oozing out.

In a span of five seconds, David went from being exhilarated to being totally degraded.

Spencer rushed over and went for the Vetrap bandages around David’s face. He removed the blindfold then the gag.

“Mmmphhh grrrr…. Ohhh! Ahhhh!” David grunted then gasped as he took his first free breaths, panting wildly. He stayed otherwise silent though, unable to form words to describe.

“What happened?” Spencer asked him.

“Initiation,” David blushed with embarrassment. That’s all he said.

Neither young men talked about the huge boner David displayed, though. They choose to pretend it wasn’t there. David had the worst case of blue balls as well, being prevented an orgasm when he was so close. He almost wanted to rub one out right there in Spencer’s presence it hurt so bad.

Whomever the mysterious guy was that edged him was hidden behind the closet door behind the table. He was still there. Would David give him up to Spencer? He wouldn’t.

He’d let the mysterious person, he assumed now was one of his hockey teammates, escape later when he and Spencer left. He wasn’t sure hey he kept his mouth shut. Was he too embarrassed from being basically molested? Was he afraid of repercussion? Maybe he liked it?

After getting cleaned up with Spencer’s help, David got dressed back in his clothes which were still scattered on the floor, next to Carl’s disgusting jockstrap. Spencer held it up and David smiled, “Don’t ask!”

Before buttoning up his jeans, he pulled out his underwear and looked down a last time at his newly shaved groin, and grieved at the loss of the little manhood he had previously.

“Don’t worry, it grows back,” Spencer sympathized. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Yea, I heard,” David smiled sheepishly.

David grabbed his gym bag from his locker and walked out to the locker room with Spencer as they locked up the place. David looked back though the open door to the training room and noticed the closet door beyond was now cracked open. Whomever it was, was watching them, waiting for them to leave.

As the boys walked out through the parking lot, David made Spencer promise not to tell the coaches. Spencer nodded and said he knew the drill.

“Anyway, see ya later, man,” David waved as he parted ways with the young sports trainer.

As David walked home, he was tempted to go back and camp by the sports facility to see who would exit the backdoor of the locker room, making their escape from the training closet. He wouldn’t, though.

Still, he couldn’t help but wonder who it was and filed through the options. It probably wasn’t Aiden or Denny because they seemed so grossed out by the earlier experience. Kenneth was hard to believe because he couldn’t imagine the betrayal. As for Carl, he’d sooner believe he’d be beaten up by him than beaten off. Carson, while oddly kinky in his antics, didn’t seem like the stealthy, secretive type. Nick, the ring leader, didn’t add up either. What about Coach Zarco? The fact that he got a whiff of “hockey smell” from the perpetrator told him it wasn’t a coach, it was a hockey player.

He let it go.

Perhaps back at the boarding house that night, or at practice tomorrow, he’d be able to deduce who tried to rape him by looking into their eyes. Whomever it was, he wanted to take care of unfinished business. He still had blue balls.

TO BE CONTINUED…

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If you have thoughts for the next chapter, or want to guess who the mysterious intruder is, write some comments.