“I don’t think this is a good idea,” I said to Tom with anxiety in my tone.
“Dude don’t worry your little pussy about it,” Tom said with a sneer, waving me off. He tucked his brown t-shirt into his BDU pants until it was perfect. His waist was narrow and tight. I loved it when he wasn’t wearing his BDU jacket so I could see how flat and perfect his waist was.
“See! That,” I said pointing at him, “You can’t say shit like that.” I pulled my BDU pants up and looked for my brown t-shirt.
“I say shit like that all the fucking time,” he snapped at me.
“I know but only when it’s just you and me. How do I know you’re not going to do that in public?”
Tom shook his head and scoffed, “Fucking Christ, kid. What the fuck makes you think I would say shit like that in public? Can’t let anyone find out I’m fucking a faggot. We’ll both be kicked out or worse, Leavenworth. What are you, stupid?” he snapped.
I flinched. He’s so fucking mean to me. I honestly don’t know why I let him fuck me. Oh, wait, it’s because he’s hot as fuck, movie star handsome, charming as shit until he gets me alone. He’s abusive to me and I hate it and I fucking love it. He treats me like shit, but he fucks me like I’m a whore. I put up with his asshole behavior only because he’s hot and he scares me. Yeah, I’m scared of him. I shook my head. I don’t understand how he can fuck me all the time and not consider himself gay.
“I don’t know, dude!” I say with a shrug. “I never fucking know what you’re gonna say or do. You call me a fag in front of people all the fucking time.”
“You are,” he said plainly. “And no one knows you’re a faggot. You’re not one of those fucking prancing fags. You’re all jacked, and masculine, and shit. That’s why I can fucking call you that in pubic. Dudes think I’m just messing with you because you’re a fucking pretty boy. They laugh. You laugh. Nobody fucking knows.”
I looked at him and sigh. I worked up the courage to ask him. “Please, don’t treat me like shit in front of them tonight,” I pleaded. He just turned and stared me down. “What?” I asked innocently like I hadn’t just said what I said. He continued to stare. “What?” I asked again with a shrug while holding my hands up. His stare spoke volumes. “Ok, I’m sorry,” I said backing down. “God,” I mumbled under my breath.
He stepped over to me, put his hand on my chest and slammed me against the wall. I felt the warmth of his hand against my bare chest. I swallowed hard. I started to sweat. He had that look. That look he had when he was about to go ape-shit. He’s never hit me, but he can get rough. Usually, it’s during sex but he will assert his power anytime if he feels he needs to.
“Don’t ever fucking do that,” he spat in my face.
“What?” I whispered but he knew I knew.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do, you dick hole,” he growled. His face was inches from mine. I could smell his breath, feel the heat radiating off his face. He had piercing, ice-blue eyes. No matter what, I could never stop staring at them. When he was mad was when they glowed the brightest. He had anger issues, so he was always mad. “I can do what ever the fuck I want to you because I can. You’re too much of a pussy to do anything about it.”
“Ok, ok,” I said quietly. “I’m sorry.” He stared into my eyes. “Tom, I’m sorry,” I pleaded. He let me go and stepped away from me. Yeah, pretty sure I had Battered Wife Syndrome.
“You’re such a fag,” he said with a sneer. “Look at you. You’re supposed to be this big, strapping, studly, muscle head but you let other guys use you when you could easily just knock them on their ass. If you weren’t such a hot cock whore with a tight pussy, it would be almost pathetic. Just fucking calm your pussy and shut the fuck up. You’re coming with me tonight,” he said. He picked up my t-shirt and flung it at me. “Hurry up, we have to get back to work.”
“I know, I know,” I said as I hurriedly pulled my t-shirt on. It was too small as I had been lifting like a maniac because Tom wanted me bigger. I was already jacked but he said he wanted me more jacked. I struggled pulling it down over my chest and lats. He stood there watching me like I was an idiot. I pulled it down and grabbed my jacket.
“Tuck your shirt in, fag,” he said.
“I try but it’s too small now. When I lift my arms, the bottom comes out of my pants.” I demonstrated for him by lifting my arms. The hem of my shirt lifts revealing my abs.
“I thought I told you to get new shirts,” he snapped.
“I know. I will. I just haven’t had the time. Dude, you wanted me to get bigger. I got bigger,” I said reminding him of why I had this problem.
“I know you got bigger. But be a fucking man and go to the BX on base and get some new ones. Jesus, you look like a fucking sausage packed into that thing,” he said but his eyes were also darting all over my torso. I knew he approved of my body.
“Fine. I’ll get a whole new fucking uniform. Pants are tight as fuck anyway.”
“No! Keep those,” he said pointing at me.
“Why?”
“Because they show off your ass. Your ass keeps getting bigger. Your ass is fucking dope.” He turned and went to find his truck keys. I watched him walk away. He had such a nice ass, and his back was so muscular. He wasn’t as big as me, but he said he liked that. I started off with about 10 pounds more muscle then he had, but now I had about 25 pounds more then him. He said he likes muscle fags. I fucking hated it when he called me a fag, but now I’m just used to it.
I tried to tuck in my shirt. I grabbed my jacket and swung it on. The sleeves were rolled up to my biceps and they were skintight. I really did need a new uniform or two.
“Come on,” he hollered from the hallway of his apartment. I came out of the bedroom, and he could tell I was out of sorts. “What’s wrong now?” he asked exasperated.
I looked up at him. “Nothing.” I adjusted my belt. Then I huffed and sighed. “I hate going back to work with an ass full of jizz.”
“What?” he asked. I knew by his tone I should have kept it to myself. It seems he takes everything I say, personally.
“You came in me twice. Now we have to go back to work, and I have your jizz leaking out.”
He pointed his index finger into my chest and tapped. “That’s what you get for being a fucking faggot. You should be fucking thanking me every time I dump babies in you.”
We got in his truck and drove back to the base from one of our “nooners.” A couple times a week we would spend our lunch hour fucking back at his apartment. But he would never let me clean up before returning to the office. He said he likes the idea of me walking around with his boys in my gut. I was at his whim. I was a lowly Airman First Class, fresh from Tech School, and before that was boot camp, and he was a Tech-Sergeant. I have been in the service for a year, if that. He has been in for almost 10. We were both non-commissioned, but he still outranked me. We worked in the same section of the cargo warehouse, and he was my supervisor. It felt like every where I turned in my life, there was TSgt. Tom Watson.
Our “relationship” started out pretty rough, literally. The minute I arrived at my first day of work, Tom was on me like stink on shit. He criticized everything I did. He bullied me to no end. Nothing I did was right. He degraded me in front of my coworkers. It felt like he deliberately thought of ways to torment me. His only saving grace was that Tom was strikingly handsome. He had short dark hair with a part on the side, blue eyes, square jaw. He had a nice tight, muscular body. His uniform fit him like a glove. He really should have been a model. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him that first day; the day he began making my life hell.
He all but stalked me. I saw him drive by my dorm on base a few times. A few times I caught him following me in my car. I saw him following me in the Exchange, and the gym. He would just turn up randomly at places.
Then that fateful night he followed me to a gay bar. My first gay bar experience and that asshole followed me. I mean, I should have known he would since that’s all he did. I saw him in the bar, and I almost shit in my pants. I had the deer in the headlights look and he had the evilest smirk I’d ever seen. I mean, it was downright demonic. I immediately made a break for the door, but he beat me to it.
“Where you going, Airman Matson?” he asked me. His hand was pressed against my chest holding me from the door.
“Sgt Watson, I... I...” I was panicked. I was so embarrassed. I was wearing a skintight pair of Wranglers and a tight t-shirt that was way too small. I had on cowboy boots and a ball cap. Anyone could tell I was showing off, advertising my body.
“It’s ok, Riley. I already knew you were a faggot.”
I flinched at the harsh tone. “Sgt. Watson, please don’t tell anyone. I’m fucking begging you.”
He scoffed at me. “Oh, I’m not telling anyone you’re a faggot.”
“You’re not?” I asked surprised.
“Fuck no. Then I wouldn’t have you all to myself.” His eyes were intense, like a heat ray.
“You’re gay?”
Suddenly he shoved me against the wall and got in my face. “Fuck you! I’m no faggot.”
I was confused. “But... why are you here?”
“Shut the fuck up and stop asking fucking stupid questions,” he growled.
“Sorry. How did you know?”
He snickered. He backed off of me. He scoffed. “Fuck. Your first day, you walk in with your perfect blonde hair, blue eyes, jacked body, tight uniform, everyone staring at you like you owned the place, and for a minute, I believed you did. But then you know what? You couldn’t keep your faggot eyes off of me. I knew you were just a little gay muscle boy playing soldier.”
“I don’t remember it that way.”
“Really? How do you remember it, muscle boy?”
“Not like that. I mean, I saw you and yeah, I thought you were hot, but I thought you were straight.”
“Thought? I’m not gay.” He lurched at me again but stopped.
“Ok, ok. I know.” I was so confused at how a dude can hit on another dude and not be gay. Maybe he was bi. “I know you’ve been following me.”
“Yeah.” He said it with a shrug.
“Why?”
“Get to know your patterns, where you go, what you do.” Then he sounded frustrated. “You fucking live at the fucking gym, you know that? Like 75% of your time.”
“I like working out.”
“I can tell. Everyone can tell. Can’t miss that ass shelf you have. Where do you buy your clothes? The boys section?”
I swallowed hard, not sure at all where this was going. What was he going to do with me? He just had this look about him that made me want to escape. I looked into his crystal blue eyes, and I couldn’t look away. He was so fucking handsome. He looked like the image of the guy in my head that I always thought I’d be with. I had a thing for dark haired guys.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“Where?”
He put his hand on the back of my neck and squeezed. It sent chills down my spine. One reason was because I could feel the heat and the strength coming from his hand. The other reason was because I was scared. Not answering my question, he led me to the door, and out onto the sidewalk.
“Sgt. Watson?”
He said nothing as he led me to his truck. He opened the passenger door and pushed me. “Get in there,” he snarled. I climbed in and he closed the door. My heart rate was pounding. I didn’t if I was turned on or waiting to be murdered.
He came around and got in the truck. He started the engine and tore out of the parking spot.
“Where are we going, Sgt Watson? You’re fucking scaring me, man.”
“We’re going back to my place,” he said staring out the front window.
“Why?” I asked but I already knew the answer.
He looked at me. “Is your pussy virgin?”
I wasn’t expecting that question. I wasn’t expecting him to call my ass a pussy either, so I hesitated. “Uh... no.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think so. Don’t know why I asked.”
I was starting to get pissed. I felt like I was being kidnapped. “Why the fuck do you care?” I asked boldly.
“Because when I fuck you, I don’t have to be gentle. Although I was hoping you were cherry. I’ve had dreams of taking your cherry pussy.”
I shook my head in disbelief. I didn’t get it. He’s straight?
“Are you saying you want to fuck me?” I asked.
He guffawed. “What did you think I was going to do with you?”
“Dude, I don’t know!” I exclaimed. “You’re fucking with my head.”
“You’re muscle pussy tonight.” He accelerated.
My hole tingled but at the same time, I wasn’t prepared to hook up with anyone. I was just out and about. If I got laid, I got laid, but I didn’t expect anything. But, I will say that I usually scored if I wanted to.
“Dude, what is your obsession with me?” I asked him. I was all done with formalities of calling him by his rank.
He smirked. “What were you planning on doing tonight dressed like that, Matson? Getting your pussy stuffed?” Obviously, he wasn’t going to answer my question.
“No. I was just out for a beer.” That was mostly the truth.
He scoffed. “Oh fuck off, Matson. I know guys like you. You’re always on the look out for cock. You look like a top, that’s what turns dudes on when they fuck you.”
“I’m versatile.”
He laughed loudly. “Baby boy, you are a fucking cum dump.”
“Hey! What the fuck is your problem?” I asked now that I was getting offended.
He reached across as he drove and grabbed my upper arm. “Listen to me, you fucking faggot. You’re a cum dump now, got it?”
“Ow, bro!” I yelp, trying to yank my arm from him. “The fuck?”
“Oh, fuck you. That didn’t hurt,” he said condescendingly. “Don’t act like you didn’t like that. Like I said, I know guys like you. You need a real man to handle you. All that fucking testosterone in those muscles just fucking crying out for a release. You give that ass up to any man that can handle you.”
Ok, he wasn’t lying. I will definitely put out for a dominate, aggressive dude. And he wasn’t lying about me being mostly bottom. I can top like a motherfucker but if it’s a man like Tom Watson, I’m down to get smashed.
His gripped grew tighter. “You understand what I’m saying, faggot?”
I was holding my breath. I let it out and nodded. “Yeah.” He let go of my neck.
“What kind of dudes do you like, Matson? Huh? You like pretty boys?” He was taunting me. “You like big, rugged dudes? You like other muscle boys like you?”
“I’m not telling you anything,” I said defiantly.
He chuckled. “Oh, I know what the kind you like. You like tall, handsome, muscular, older, authoritarian.”
He was right. I crossed my arms over my chest. I looked out the window.
“That’s me, muscle boy. I check off all your boxes,” he said in a low, sexy voice. “Don’t I?”
I shook my head. “Fuck off.” I said to the window. He laughed. I turned to him and boldly asked, “What kind of dudes do YOU like?”
He was looking at the road. He turned to me and then back to the road again. He was silent for a few seconds. He kept looking out the front window and replied, “A tall, blonde haired, blue eyed, closeted, jacked muscle boy with an alpha attitude who know that deep down, he’s just a cum dump for the right man.”
I stared at him with my jaw open. Damn, that was a hot response.
“That’s you, muscle boy. Don’t forget I’ve been tailing you for a few weeks. You’ve been slutty.”
I swallowed hard. I had been pretty active on the hook up apps. After 6 weeks of boot camp and another 6 weeks of tech school, I was a very horny fucker. I’d hooked up a handful of times with dudes on base and civies. I just can’t believe he fucking followed me.
“Jesus, dude,” I said shocked.
“You’re a screamer.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing like hearing a big boy like you scream while you’re getting boned.” I looked confused. “The hot, closeted, married dude you met for coffee and then he took you back to his hotel room and just railed your pussy.”
“I am not a screamer,” I snapped but basically admitting that he is information was correct.
He chuckled. “You’re not as tough as you want people to think.” I started to say something and then he stopped me. “I don’t want to hear it. Understand?”
I nodded.
“Good boy. Now, shut the fuck up until we get there.”
I didn’t say anything until we pulled into his driveway. It was a small, one-story house, nothing fancy.
“Stay,” he barked at me as he got out of the truck, came around to my side and opened the door. “Get the fuck out.” I climbed out. He grasped the back of my neck again and led me inside.
He led me through the small house to the bedroom. He shoved me down hard, face first onto the bed. I landed with a grunt. I flipped around on my back and crab walked back. He lurched, grabbed my ankles, and pulled me towards him. “The fuck you goin?” he growled.
“Sgt Watson...”
He pulled me toward him again. He looked crazed.
“Tom,” I said using his first name now. “Dude...” He was getting rough.
He reached down, ripped open my jeans and tried to pull them down. They were tight and he struggled. I was squirming away as he tried to pull. “Tom! Stop!” I would have put out for him. He didn’t have to force me, but he wasn’t listening. Fucking scared me.
“Fucking tight pants,” he muttered as he pulled as hard as he could. I was wearing the tightest pair of Wranglers I owned. When they wouldn’t budge past my big ass, he barked at me in frustration, “Fuck!” Then I kicked him. The paused. The look he gave me was deathly. I froze. Then he said, “You kick me again, and I will fucking cripple you.”
I unfroze and tried to crab walk back again. His face was dark, it was focused. He looked possessed. He let go of my ankle. He unfastened his jeans, unzipped and pulled out a very big, very hard cock. My eyes were big.
“Holy shit,” I murmured.
He grabbed my ankles again but this time, he flipped me around on my stomach. I felt him grab the waistband of my Wranglers and he pulled them down with all his strength until they were halfway down my thighs. There was no way this was happening. I looked behind me. “TOM, NO! STOP
He crawled up on me and held me down. He had an iron grip on my wrists as he held them to my sides. Damn, this fucker was strong. “Fight me,” he snarled in my ear. “Keep fucking fighting me, muscle boy. Only makes it better.”
“TOM!” I started to panic. He had me pinned down on my stomach, my pants pulled down under my ass. His dick was rubbing against my ass.
“FUCK YOU TOM!” Then I felt him shift. I felt his dick at my hole. “No, no, NO, NO, NO, NO,” I begged so much as I felt him push. “TOM!” His dry dick pressed through as he rammed hard. I screamed bloody fucking murder. He wrapped his arm around my throat and kept pushing in. Then he just started pounding me like a whore.
“Fucking tight pussy, muscle boy. Take my fucking dick,” he said into my ear. His voice was low with a slight hiss.
I screamed out and tried to roll side to side to buck him off. He had me in a choke hold. The pain in my ass was excruciating. I’d been penetrated dry before but not like this. I buried my face in the mattress and screamed louder.
“Told you you were a screamer. Scream it out, muscle boy. Scream it out. This is the way it’s got to be, Riley. This is how it begins. Got to make it fit,” he whispered into my ear.
“Fuck... you...” I whimpered.
“Shh, shhh, shhh,” he said into my ear. He said it like a taunt. He fucked me harder. “You’re a big, tough boy. You can handle this. You got this.” He sounded like my high school football coach. “We’re just getting started. Fuck, I’m just priming the pump, muscle boy,” he said. “Just priming the pump.” I gave up. It was gonna happen. I couldn’t stop it.
Tom fucked me rough, he fucked me verbal, he fucked me like I was the last ass on earth. I could hear him panting, his breathing ragged, his hot breath on my neck. He wrapped his other arm around my torso and really hunkered down to rail on me. He fucked me for a few more minutes until he made a roar left his body, he rammed in, he froze up, and I could feel him jerk as he released DNA into my bowels.
I was looking straight ahead. I could feel his cum course through me. I felt his dick expand while he was doing it. I felt violated. I felt used. I felt like a whore. I was also hard.
He was out of breath when he said in my ear, “God, I love fucking wet muscle pussy.”
I had tears in my eyes.
In my ear he continued, “I’m gonna let you up now, muscle boy. You be a good boy. If you so much as flinch at me, I’ll take you down and destroy your whore pussy again. Understand?”
I nodded my head, sniffling.
“Good boy.” He slowly pulled out of me which made me yelp. He rolled off of me. I lifted my head and lay it back down on my cheek, facing him.
“Why did you do that?” I asked. My voice was hoarse from all the screaming. “I would have let you fuck me.”
“It had to be done.”
“Why?”
“Now you know where you stand with me. You know your fucking place.”
“You didn’t have to fucking rape me,” I said though a sniffle.
“Yes, I did. You’re just pussy, Riley. Now you see how this is going to work. I’m in charge. I will fuck you where ever and when ever I want. Understand? Your hole is mine. You’re my muscle pussy for as long as I say. It belongs to me.”
“Tom, this is fucked up.”
He just stared down at me. The look he gave me was stern and it told me not to speak.
“Riley, behave,” he said bluntly.
I reared up. “But...”
“BEHAVE!” He pushed my head back down.
I shut my mouth and turned my head like I was pouting. Well, because I was pouting.
He was quiet for a while. I could feel him staring at me. Than I felt his hand on me. He purred. “Fucking look at you.” I felt his fingers glide over the smooth skin of my ass and my hamstrings. “Fucking beautiful, blonde, muscle pussy. So fucking perfect.” His voice was slow and easy like he was admiring a painting and describing it to someone. “Look at that back, wide and fucking knotted with muscle.” I felt his hand on my lower back as it glided up to my shoulders. “Fucking powerful.” His hand moved to my bicep where he gently clasped his hand around it. “Fuck. I can’t even get half way around.” His touch was gentle and soft. “I knew it the second I saw you. Had to fucking own your pussy. You’re fucking perfect. Nineteen, blonde, smooth, blue eyes, and stacked with muscle. You’re so muscular. But I want you bigger. I want my muscle boy to be bigger. Got it?”
I remained silent.
His hand traced down my side and to my ass. He slid the side of his hand down the cleft between my glutes. I winced.
“How’s your pussy, baby boy?” he asked me quietly. His voice became sing-song. “Is your pussy sore, baby boy?” He touched my hole with his finger, and I winced again. It stung when he touched it. “Poor baby boy.” He kissed my shoulder. I was shocked he kissed me anywhere.
“Can I go home?” I asked him. I was still facing away.
“No, baby boy. You have to stay here tonight,” he said like a dad talking to his 5-year-old.
“Tom. Can I please go home,” I asked more forcefully. I felt his finger enter me and I physically jerked. “Fuck!”
“Oh, Riley... your pussy is still fucking tight.” This time he said it with his normal psycho voice. “It’s so much better than I thought it would be.”
I squirmed and tried to come up off the bed. “Tom.”
He went in deeper and hooked his finger. He hit my nut, and I gasped. “OHH!” Oh my god, I loved to be fingered. Loved it when dudes just stuck their fingers inside me like they would a girl.
“There it is, Riley. There’s your pussy nut. I know what you need.” He keep jabbing his finger inside of me. “Fingering your muscle pussy is so fucking awesome.”
“Tom... Tom... oh my fucking god...” My eyes rolled back in my head. I was writhing.
“Fingering your pussy, Riley. Fingering your muscle pussy.”
“Oh, fuck, Tom.”
“Whose muscle pussy is this?” he asked.
I whimpered. “Tom...” His finger felt so good in my hole.
“Riley, whose muscle pussy is this?”
I hesitated before breathlessly replying, “Yours, Tom! My muscle pussy is yours.”
“Good boy.” He pulled his finger out. I felt the bed shift and he crawled on top of me again.
“Fuck,” I murmured. I knew what was coming and I wanted it.
“Let’s try this again, muscle boy. Not so rough this time. Get you used to it.”
He entered me again and started a slow, steady fuck. He fucked me all night and into the morning. When I got out of bed the next morning to find my clothes he was still the same asshole. I thought he would have changed after fucking me all night; like we made a connection. But he just growled at me and told me to get out. I got an Uber and made my way back to the base. That’s how this fucked up relationship started.
So months later and we’re still fucking almost every day. Our argument earlier after noon-sex was because he told me he was taking me to meet some friends of his that night. They were having a little party, and it was only a few of his close buddies. I didn’t know if they knew about him and me. I was perplexed why he wanted me to go. He only wanted me around when he wanted to fuck. Other than that, he basically ignored me. I didn’t want to meet anyone new because I knew he was just going to verbally abuse me like always.
After work I drove back to the dorms. I lived in base housing, so it was five minutes from the squadron. He called me when I walked in the door.
“Be here at seven O’clock,” he ordered.
“Ok.”
“And muscle boy...”
“What?”
“Be clean.”
I knew what he meant. I assumed he wanted to fuck me before we went out. Usually, he would have me come over and fuck me before he went out drinking with his buddies. Which made me feel like a total whore. But it was so worth it.
“Yeah. Ok.”
“And wear your uniform.”
I looked at the phone confused. “What? Why?”
“Just do it, faggot!”
“The one I have on? I thought you said you wanted me to get a new one.”
“Yes! The one you have on. And go to the gym first. Get a pump.”
“I was gonna.”
“Good boy.”
I went to the gym, got a nice pump. I was looking swole, which made it hard to get my uniform on. Now the sleeves were really tight. I thought they were going to cut off the circulation to my biceps. Instead of the t-shirt I wore that day, I opted for the new brown Underarmour t-shirt the Air Force had just issued. It was compression and tight as fuck. I figured he would like it more than the old cotton one. He said he liked it when I wore compression gear. I looked in the mirror and turned a few times. I put my BDU hat on. Damn, I looked fucking hot. I was eager to find out where he wanted to take me dressed in uniform. I knew we were hanging with his buddies, but I didn’t know if anything was going on that night.
I showed up at his apartment. He opened the door and looked me over. He nodded in approval. But he wasn’t wearing his uniform. He was wearing a pair of butt hugging Wrangler jeans, square-toed cowboy boots, a tight t-shirt and a ball cap with the bill pulled down low. His blue eyes peeked out from under the bill. His jaw was so square and sharp like it could cut glass, with a day’s worth of stubble. Sometimes he would let me kiss him and I would run my fingers along the edge of his jaw.
“You’re not wearing a uniform?” I asked.
“No” he said bluntly. I stepped inside the door, and he stopped me. He pushed me back out. “Where you going?”
I looked over his shoulder and gestured with my head, “Thought you wanted to fuck me. You told me to be clean.”
“No, I’m not fucking you,” he said with a condescending chuckle. “Yet.”
“Yet?”
“Riley, shut the fuck up,” he said to me as he closed the door and locked it.
We got in the truck in silence. I was only 19, a dumb jock who didn’t know shit about anything except how to take a dick. I was good at it too; thank you Coach Willis, my high school football coach. Tom took advantage of that innocence and naivety. I sat in my seat and pouted. He kept looking over at me. He knew I was mad, but he never gave into my adolescent behavior. He just always let me stew.
We drove for about 20 minutes; the only noise was the country music on his radio. When we finally arrived at our destination, it was dark, so I really didn’t know where we were. It was a big house, and I saw a half dozen or so cars parked in front.
By now I knew to stay in the truck whenever we arrived anywhere. It was some kind of fucked up control thing for him. Made me feel like his girlfriend or something. He walked around to my side and let me out. He put his hand on the back of my neck and held tightly as he led me to the door. “Be a good boy. You hear me?” he said quietly, but seriously.
I looked at him and replied, “Yeah. I will.” I had to admit that I did like it when he called me a good boy. It was the nicest of all the names he called me but also the one that seemed like he cared when he used it.
“Say it,” he said firmly.
“I’ll be a good boy,” I said timidly.
We went inside, his hand still on my neck. He was steering me. We were greeted with who I assumed was the host. He was Tom’s age, built pretty solid, had a high and tight haircut. He was attractive but not handsome like Tom was. But then, no one could be as handsome as Tom.
“Watson,” the man growled as he took Tom’s hand and gave him a bro hug.
“Boone,” Tom replied. Boone looked over his shoulder as me. His eyes got big. He looked at Tom and than back to me.
“This the muscle boy?” Boone asked Tom.
“Yeah. His name is Riley.” I began to put out my hand to Boone, but Tom intercepted it and interrupted the exchange. “But he also answers to fag, bitch, cunt, whore, slut, or whatever you want to call him. I call him muscle boy most of the time... or muscle pussy. You get the point.” I was so embarrassed.
The color must have drained from my face. Boone watched my humiliated expression, and he smiled at Tom. I felt like I was shrinking down to nothing. My face was hot. My mouth was agape. I looked at Tom and I was pissed. He just looked back and said nothing.
“You said you wouldn’t...” I started to remind him that I asked him not to treat me like shit AND he outed me. I think.
“I said shit,” he cut me off. The pressure of his hand and his terrible expression told me I was not going to be happy with the rest of the night.
“Come on in,” Boone said while grinning at Tom. “The guys are in the back. Cigars and Bourbon all around.”
Tom led me in behind Boone. I watched Boone walk ahead and I thought he was hot. He was built, had a nice ass, wide shoulders, thick neck. His brown hair was thick on top but shaved on the sides. I assumed he was military as well.
Boone took us through the kitchen to an outside patio. There was a firepit going, string lights over head that cast a warm glow. A fully stocked bar was also available. And gathered around were about six other guys. Some looked very military, short hair, built bodies. A couple looked like they might be civilians as they had longer hair, styled out of regs. Every guy there was attractive. Every guy was built. I may have been the biggest built dude there, but no one was fat or skinny. A few were wearing ball caps. They were all smoking cigars and holding glasses of booze. When I walked up, the group got quiet. I felt super self-conscious since I was dressed in full uniform and no one else was. They were all staring at me.
“Guys,” Tom said. They all said hi back.
Boone patted me on the shoulder. “Say hello, Riley,” he said to me.
I cleared my throat and said, “Hello.” I was so nervous. I had no idea what I was doing there or why I was being stared at like a hunk of meat behind a window in a butcher shop.
One of the guys sat back in his chair. He whistled a note. “Damn, Watson,” he said.
Another guy was toking on a cigar. He blew out some smoke and then had a crooked smile on his face as his eye darted all over me. “Fuck you, Watson,” he said chuckling. Then for some reason, everyone was laughing. Tom looked very, very fucking proud and had a big, white toothed grin on his handsome face. One of the few times I’d ever saw him smile. He was such a fucking hard ass.
Tom shrugged his shoulders, one hand still on my neck, the other hand patted me on the chest as he said, “Did I lie?” I looked at him confused.
“Nope,” the same guy said. “Where do you find all this prime muscle pussy?”
Again, my heart fell into my stomach. These guys totally knew about me, about us. What had I gotten into?
Tom replied, “You know how it is, Trip. Muscle faggots love me. My boy here shows up for his first day of work and this faggot can’t stop looking at me.”
Boone laughed. “Watson, everyone looks at you.”
“Yeah, but, this one... I knew right away that he was going to be good muscle pussy.”
I was shocked and humiliated he would talk about me like this to other dudes. The one he called Trip nodded his head. He was wearing a ball cap so I couldn’t see his eyes with the light being do dim, but I did see he was packed into some tight jeans and a snug t-shirt. He reminded me of a rodeo cowboy.
Trip guffawed. “They love your cock, you mean. YOU are an asshole,” he said laughing. Everyone else laughed again.
Another guy said, “Yeah, but he’s a pretty boy asshole. All the faggots want that handsome fucker.” He held up his glass as if to cheer Tom.
“Don’t be jealous, Coop. Someday when you grow up, you might be purdy too,” Tom said to him.
Coop cheered him again. “Touche.”
Tom was rubbing his hand in a circular motion on my chest. It felt like he was petting his dog. I was his dog. I was his bitch. He looked at me and said, “Boy, make yourself useful, get me a beer from the bar.”
I nodded and started to walk away when he slapped me on the ass. “Look at that muscle pussy, boys” he said and then I heard him high-five Boone.
“That’s some fucking fat muscle pussy,” someone called out. I stopped. I was livid. I started to turn but then remembered that I probably shouldn’t. I started walking again.
“He’s a good little bitch,” I heard Tom say. “Fucking sweet hole.” I reached into a cooler and grabbed a beer. I walked it back. “It’s so fucking tight. It just grabs onto my dick.”
A guy with a high and tight cut was sitting off to the side drinking a beer instead of bourbon. His t-shirt couldn’t hide his massive biceps and traps. “Is his pussy nice and smooth?” These guys were talking about me like I wasn’t standing right there.
“Smooth as fucking silk, JT,” Tom said and then gave them a chef’s kiss. “He does what he’s told. We fucked at lunch today. He’s got a belly full of Watsons right now.”
“Sweet,” said JT with a nod. “You pregnant, muscle boy?”
“Fuck,” I mumbled.
My head was down. I opened the beer and handed it to Tom. “Take off the jacket,” he ordered.
I looked up. I had taken off my hat when we came in the house. I set it down on a chair. I sighed and unbuttoned the jacket. I struggled to pull it off; the sleeves were tight against my biceps. I finally got it off, folded it and set it down.
“Fuck me!” Boone said. “Fucking stacked, bro.”
Tom looked at me with a surprise. He hadn’t seen my new UA shirt. All the guys were cat-calling, whistling, yelling nasty shit at me.
“What’s this, muscle boy?” Tom asked as he ran a finger over my spandex shirt.
“Um... it’s new. It was issued,” I said quietly. I now wished I hadn’t worn it. It was like a second skin on my torso. You could see my abs through the material.
“You wear this for me?” he asked me, his finger running over my nipple which made me flinch. I loved it when he played with my nipples. Naturally, I squirmed a bit.
“Uh... yeah. Thought you would like it,” I said quietly.
“Shows off your tits, muscle boy,” he said as he cupped one of my pecs and squeezed.
“Fuck yeah!” I heard someone say. “Boy has some big titties. Fucking double-d’s.”
“Yeah, he does. And they just keep getting bigger and bigger. Don’t they, muscle boy?” Tom asked me.
I nodded.
“And tell the boys why they keep getting bigger,” Tom said.
I looked at them all. “Uh...Tom told me...,” I was nervous. “...he wanted me to get bigger. So, I did. I am.”
JT was ogling my pecs, almost salivating. “What do you weigh, fuck boy?”
I winced when he called me fuck boy.
“Yeah, boy. Tell them how much you weigh.” Boone slapped me on the back like a proud dad.
“Um... 230,” I replied quietly.
“Two-thirty?” JT’s jaw dropped.
“Ten percent body fat,” Tom added proudly. He ran his hand over my abs that were clearly visible through the compression shirt. I started to think he just brought me here to brag. Is this what these guys did? Did they just brag about their fuck boys? “Tell them what you weighed when you met me.”
“205.”
JT sat forward with a shocked expression. “You put on 25 fucking pounds of muscle?”
I nodded. “He told me to.”
“Fuck yeah he did. For me. I told you. The boy does what he’s told.” Tom grabbed my wrist and raised my arm. “Flex,” he said to me.
Reluctantly, I made a fist and flexed my 20-inch bicep.
“Fuck,” JT whispered. “Watson, you lucky son-of-a-bitch.”
“Six-three, 230, blonde hair, blue eyes, skin as smooth as a baby’s butt.”
Boone laughed. “He’s better than the last one.”
I perked up. “Last one?” I looked at Tom who was giving Boone a nasty scowl. I noticed they all got quiet.
“Boone.”
“Fuck. Sorry Watson.”
“Who was the last one?” I asked Tom.
“Don’t fucking worry about it,” he replied gruffly. Everyone was still quiet.
“Watson loves muscle pussy,” another guy said to break the uncomfortable silence. He was blonde, rugged, hot as fuck, had a toothpick in his mouth. He paused and then said, “But then we ALL love muscle pussy.”
“Especially yours,” Boone said to me. He had a hungry look in his eyes.
Trip puffed on his cigar. “Walker has a muscle pussy just like you. Don’t you, Walker?”
The blonde, rugged Walker grinned. “Yep. Got me a nice little Army muscle pussy on Lewis. Butch little thing. He used to be straight,” he said laughing. “Maybe you know him,” Walker said intending to be an insult. “Don’t all you muscle pussies know each other? Stand around the gym all day in spandex and talk about how much you all love getting fucked.” They all started laughing and fist-bumping.
“Nah, he doesn’t know him,” Tom said. “Riley’s been too busy. When he’s not at work, he’s at the gym. When he’s not at the gym, he’s posting his pussy on my cock. Right, muscle boy?” he said as he slapped me on the back.
I was humiliated. All the guys were laughing at me. They were calling me names. They were fucking degrading me. I didn’t mind it when Tom did it during sex. But I didn’t need strangers doing it. I got enough from Tom. Normally, I would be throw some punches, but I was out numbered.
I looked up at Tom. “Tom... come on, man,” I whispered to him. He looked at me with a deviousness in his eyes that I’d never seen before. “Don’t let them say shit like that.” I tried to keep the conversation between us.
But suddenly, he wrapped his whole arm around my neck, putting me in a choke hold. His voice was low and gravelly. “You promised you’d be a good boy.” I heard snickering from the guys. I could have easily gotten out of that hold but then, I was scared of Tom. I shouldn’t be. I could easily over power him. But I didn’t say anything. I knew not to say anything in these situations unless he told me too. “Did you promise me you would be a good boy?”
“Yes,” I mumbled. My reply was strained.
“What?” he said flexing his arm around my head.
“OW! YES!” I said louder.
“You’re embarrassing me in front of my friends, Riley. I told them I was bringing my muscle boy to meet them. I told them my muscle boy is a good boy. He listens to his man. He does whatever I fucking tell him. I told them my muscle boy is the hottest muscle boy. I told them my muscle boy loves to get fucked. He’s a little bitch. Is all that true, Riley?”
“Yes,” I said.
All the guys sat around watching both amused and envious of Tom.
“Now, that’s a good boy,” Tom said as he released the choke hold. I stood up straight, more embarrassed than ever. “Now, you need to apologize to me and the boys.”
I looked at him, my eyes were teary. I was frozen with fear that I was being set up. I looked around and said quietly, “Sorry.”
“No, no, no. Not like that,” Tom said. “Get down on your knees.”
I looked at him with total confusion. “What?”
He put his hands on my shoulders and pressed. “Get down on your fucking knees!”
“Tom...” I whispered. “Tom, don’t. Please, don’t. Not here.”
Boone kicked me behind my knees and I slammed down onto my them in front of Tom. And horror fell over my face as he unbuckled his belt, then unfastened his jeans. He hauled out his thick cock which turned hard instantly. “Get your face-hole on my cock, boy.” I looked up at him, his crystal blue eyes gleaming down. I tried to say something but when I opened my mouth, he grabbed my hair with a fist and pulled my head on to his cock. I gagged when his cock made contact with the back of my throat. Then I heard cheering from the group. “Swallow that fucking cock, muscle boy,” Tom snarled as he kept yanking my head back and forth onto his cock. I put my hands on his hips and held on as he fucked my face. I tried to push away but Tom reached down and clamped both hands down around my head in a lock. He thrust with his hips, his cock lodging itself in my throat.
“Clog his throat, Watson,” Boone said to his buddy. “Clog it with cock.”
“Riley...,” Tom was struggling with keeping me on his cock. “what... did I tell you... about fighting me?”
“Show that bitch his fucking place, Watson,” Trip said to him.
My face was bright red, veins popping in my neck and forehead, tears streaming down my eyes as I gagged and made gurgling noises. Tom fucked my face while the other men cheered him on.
“Choke him, Watson,” Walker called out.
“Look at that muscle boy’s throat. I can see Watson’s fucking cock stretching it out,” Cooper said laughing.
Finally, I had had enough and with all my strength I shoved Tom back. His dick came out of my mouth, and I fell back onto my ass. I was coughing and hacking. I wiped my face with my sleeve.
“FUUCK!” I screamed out at Tom. It came out gravelly and hoarse. “FUCK TOM!”
Tom was laughing. Boone fist bumped him.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” I barked at Tom.
“Calm down, muscle boy. Just priming the pump,” he said which he said quite often.
“Fuck you. You were just raping my throat.”
Boone clucked his tongue. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Rape is a harsh word, Riley boy. Careful how you use it.”
Walker sat forward, his elbows on his knees. “If you were a good pussy boy, he wouldn’t have to force you. You fucking disrespectful faggot.” He had venom in his voice. “If my muscle boy ever disrespected me like you just did, I would rape his pussy until it was bloody.”
“Or he would let us do it,” Boone added with a scowl. “Again.”
Tom looked at Boone and then to the other men. Boone silently nodded to Tom. Tom nodded back. “Maybe I should let you all do it.” He looked at me. “Maybe you need another lesson in where your place is.”
I looked around at them shaking my head. I couldn’t believe they were actually talking about this. There was no way this was real. This wasn’t going to happen to me. “No, Tom. No.”
JT stood up and unbuckled his belt. “Make him suck our cocks, Watson.”
“Fuck yeah, Watson. I wanna see you make that muscle pussy suck our cocks,” Trip said as he stood and did the same. “Make him!”
Tom looked at me with stern eyes. I know I must have looked horrified. I stared into his eyes and shook my head, silently pleading to him. He continued to stare at me. I gathered up the courage and whispered, “Please. Don’t.”
That’s when he put his hands on my shoulders and brought me in for a hug. I thought he had a change of heart. I wrapped my arms around him. But he turned his head and said into my ear, “But this is the reason you’re here, Riley.”
I released the hug and looked at him in the eye. “What?”
“Be a good boy, Riley. Start with JT. When you’ve drained him, move on to the next.”
I was beyond flabbergasted. “What the fuck, Tom? WHAT THE FUCK?”
“RILEY.”
“NO, TOM. I’m not doing that. I’m not your fucking whore.”
I heard all of them men go, “Whoaaaaa.” They knew I had crossed a line.
“That’s EXACTLY what you are, Riley. You are my fucking whore. Who the fuck do you think you are?” He asked getting in my face.
“Not this,” I replied.
“I told you the first time I fucked you that you are just pussy. That’s your purpose. You are pussy. You’re a dick hole. Boys like you, that’s all you’re good for. Fucking muscled up, pretty boys are only good for taking cock.”
I was speechless. I had done a few three-ways, but this was going to be a gang bang. This was not what was supposed to happen when I enlisted. I knew there would be plenty of cock and ass but not all at once. I got cocky. I knew with the way I looked that I could get any dude I wanted. For a while, I thought Tom was the lucky one to bag me. I was his trophy boy. But then I started to see myself as the lucky one for bagging a guy like Tom. Sure he was a misogynistic, arrogant asshole, but he was a real fucking man, he fucked me like a man wants to be fucked, he treated me like shit but that’s the way I wanted to be treated by someone like him. I’d been with sweet, boy-next-door, nice guys, and they were great, the sex was ok. But when you’ve been with someone like Tom, it’s hard to go back. Am I fucked up? You bet I’m fucked up. I probably have daddy issues. Growing up in a toxically masculine environment only to enlist in an even worse one tends to fuck with your head. Am I one of those dudes who needs to be masculine, jacked, have attitude to cover my insecurities that are so bad I need another man to validate me? I’m just a submissive pussy for men like him to control?
Yes. Yes, I am.
I looked at the men and then back to Tom. “I’m doing this for you,” I said quietly to him.
“I know,” he replied just as quietly.
“You’re responsible for what I will become after this.”
“I know.”
“I’ll do anything for you.”
“I know.”
I stepped closer to him. I put my forehead against his. “Tell me again,” I whispered.
“You are just pussy. That’s your purpose. You’re a pussy hole. This is all you’re good for. Muscled up, pretty boys like you are only good for taking cock.” He cupped my face. “You are nothing without me.”
“I am nothing without you,” I repeated back.
“Good boy, Riley. You’re a very good boy.”
