The previous Friday, when Erik Ransome reported for his second appointment with ‘Doctor’ Steve, he had been given a self-treatment kit, and ordered to use it between appointments.

It consisted of a laptop, a remote power pack, and a wickedly-powerful anal egg that Thad had come up with. Shaped like an especially bumpy baby potato, it had one concave side. The shape of it was, that it would tend to twist around in the rectum until the concavity fitted itself to the prostate, where it would stay stuck.

Erik was instructed to use the new ‘ultrasound prostate healer’ every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, from 1pm to 5pm.

The laptop would work him through the proper insertion procedure.


John stuck his head in the frat house kitchen.

“Hey, Luke! Steve says Erik is about to be on.”

Luke glanced at his watch. Almost one o-clock.

“Fuck, yeah! I can’t miss that!” Wolfing down the rest of his sandwich, he took the stairs two at a time, and got into the master control room just in time to settle into a swivel chair next to Steve.


One of the monitors sprang to life, showing the interior of a toilet stall. Luke grinned as he recognized the same stall where he had first encountered Ford, in the infamous basement Men’s room at the college library.

“Great picture quality.”

“Yeah. Thad upgraded the built-in camera in the laptop screen.”

Erik had apparently set the computer on the top of the toilet tank. There was a rustling as the earnest fundamentalist took off his jacket, shirt and slacks and hung them on the door hook. With a charming reluctance, he slipped out of his white briefs.

Fuck, Luke thought. Even alone, the guy is body-shy.

It was Steve’s idea to not use the Green Lube for Erik’s treatment. He was determined to get control of the guy with mind games alone.

Erik fumbled with the equipment bag, then drew out the fanny-pack power supply and its attached anal egg. Snapping on a pair of latex gloves, Erik used the supplied tube of KY to coat the 2-inch spheroid.

Another monitor mirrored the laptop’s own screen, with its instructions:


The power pack had a clip to mount to his belt, but undressed as he was, it was awkward. The cable to the ‘probe’ was short, so he had to place the power pack next to the laptop and turn around to insert it.

The guys got a great close-up view of the ‘insertion procedure.’ Erik had to look over his shoulder to read the screen.


Thad had programmed it to say this several times, just for fun.

Erik’s expression of increasing exasperation was hysterical. Finally, the computer flashed INSERTION COMPLETE. PLEASE WAIT FOR FULL INITIALIZATION PROCESS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

With a sigh of relief, Erik turned to face the screen again, picking up the power pack to hold it next to his hip.

The irregular shape made the muscles of his rectum clench gently, trying to get a grip on the invader. The asymmetry of the egg made it twist and turn inside him, until suddenly the concave side fitted itself to his walnut-shaped prostate. The expression on Erik’s face as it did this was great.

Then the vibration test cycle began.

Erik’s chest heaved, and he had to support himself against a side wall of the stall with one hand. His cock, half-hard to start with, swelled to its full, massive glory, jutting from his slim hips like a small club. As the ten-minute, random buzz cycle progressed, Erik’s body was clearly overwhelmed with intense sexual pleasure.

It clearly took every ounce of his iron self-control for Erik to keep himself from grabbing his dick and beating it to instant climax.

Luke wondered when Erik’s control would break. He had been amazed on Monday when Erik made it through the full four-hour ‘treatment’ without whacking off.


The treatment consisted of five minutes of stimulus followed by ten minutes of rest. There was a helpful countdown screen so Erik could anticipate each anal buzz. The screen required him to give frequent feedback rating his penis rigidity, scrotal movement, and prostate pain/pleasure index—all of which meant nothing, really, except that Steve wanted him to concentrate as fully as possible on his sexual responses.

Steve chuckled as Erik began to dress. “I see he learned his lesson Monday!”

Luke smiled as he saw Erik pulling on a pair of discrete adult diapers. As Steve had noted during their first encounter, Erik was a champ leaker, producing pre-cum in astonishing amounts.

Monday, Erik had gotten up from his History of Scripture lecture to discover that the crotch of his trousers was soaked through, making it look like he had peed his pants.

The intense reek of pre-cum, was however, absolutely unmistakable, and Erik had scuttled back to his apartment in burning shame, holding the laptop over his groin.

Steve and Thad had hacked into Erik’s class schedule, and planned the ‘treatments’ to ensure that Erik was in public the whole time. He didn’t have time between classes to go home and insert the device, so he had to do it in a public toilet on campus, which made his skin crawl. He had to bite his lip to keep from moaning during the ‘initialization process’ whenever another guy came into the rest room.

The fun of the next four hours was watching Erik’s face as he looked anxiously at the screen, watching the countdown, and then his exquisitely funny expressions as the buzzing commenced, and he tried not to let on that he was practically on the edge of orgasm.

Luke was going to compile highlights of Erik’s ‘self-treatments’ to post with the next Friday night ‘Cum Clinic’ session.



Nick had been in Florida when the Coach came up with his Laundry Boy punishment the Friday before, so he got a real kick out of seeing Ford in his silly pink outfit.

Standing at attention, arms behind his head, Ford tried to keep his expression neutral as the chortling jocks rummaged in their lockers for soiled straps and tossed them at his feet. Several of the bolder guys threw the straps at his face instead. The Russell twins among them, naturally.

The Coach led the guys out into the gym to begin calisthenics, leaving Ford and Nick behind.

Ryan had hung behind, approached Ford as he knelt to gather up the straps from the floor.

“I assume you remember our next appointment is tomorrow afternoon, Ford.”

He didn't look up. “Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well, I don’t think you have been wearing appropriate clothes. Jeans are too casual. To show your respect I want you to wear dress clothes, is that understood? Oh, and instead of underwear, I want you to wear one of these -” Ryan pushed a jock strap with his toe. “But a clean one. I expect to see you at 4pm. Don’t be late.”

Ryan dropped his own jock onto the pile, and went out to join the others in the gym.

“What the hell was that about?”

“None of your business, Nick. I’m not going to tell you about it.”

“Oh, I think you will. Okay, Coach said I could supervise your laundry duty today. Grab those straps and meet me in the towel closet.”

Nick devised a fun game for the strap washing. Ford entered the small closet to find a pair of cuffs dangling from a pipe overhead. Once cuffed, Nick blindfolded him, then tied some kind of strap to his balls.

“Okay, Ford. I’ve got a plastic bucket hanging from your nuts. One at a time, I’m gonna stuff a strap in your mouth for you to chew on for one minute. You better chew it thoroughly, because after you do I’m gonna make you guess which guy it belongs to. If you get it wrong, I’m gonna add a weight to the bucket. Got it?”

“Oh, hey, Nick, no, you cannmmmmmfffMMMMFNT!”

“Okay, dude, start chewing. We got twenty straps to get through.”

It became obvious that the guys were looking forward to Ford’s laundry duty, and he couldn’t help but wonder if Nick had told them what he was going to do. Because it seemed like each and every strap had multiple crusty cum loads, instead of the handful he found last time.

As Ford chewed, Nick slipped a finger up the guys’ defenseless anus, and began a leisurely stroke of the long, shapely cock.

Ten minutes later the weights were piling up in the bucket. Ford moaned as the bucket tugged painfully at his nuts, in stark contrast to the loving attention Nick was showing his ass and cock. The pain/pleasure mixture was distracting.

Having noticed that the chewing has making Ford’s mouth dry, Nick helpfully sprinkled a liberal amount from his water bottle onto the straps, ensuring that Ford could extract maximum flavor from each one.

After twenty minutes, the bucket was tugging with maximum load. The only strap he had identified correctly was Nick’s, with its aroma he knew only too well.

“Ow... ouch... okay, Nick, fun’s over... get that bucket off my balls, you’re killing me...”

“Not until you tell me what’s going on with Ryan.”

“Forget, I-iiiiaaaaaaaEEEEEEEE!”

Nick dug his hands into Ford’s exposed pits and scrabbled his fingernails into the sensitive skin, making Ford jerk and writhe, and making the bucket bounce and tug on the swollen nut sack.

Soon, Ford was begging to tell Nick all about his weekly spanking sessions with Ryan. Nick kept tickling for another two minutes anyway.

Just for fun.


That evening, at the North Prairie College Clinic:

“Uh, Doctor? What - what are those?”

Erik was looking with some apprehension at the pair of suction cups attached to a Y-shaped rubber hose.

“Just something to help us monitor your progress, Erik. Nurse, will you help the patient remove his tee shirt?”

“I - uh - where are you going to...”

“Oh, these go to the mammary papillae.”

“The what?”

“Your nipples, Erik. You see, all of the glandular functions of the body share a common network through the lymph system. This means that the excess pressure in your prostate has decreased the pressure in other glands. By checking the pressure resistance in your vestigial mammary glands, we can extrapolate the pressure changes in your prostate, and measure how effective the treatment is. Understand?”

“Uh - sure - kind of -”

“Nothing to worry about. All right Nurse, if you’ll just attach the wrist restraints we’ll get started...”

Poor Erik. Throughout the week had endured a total of twelve hours with Thad’s devilish egg up his ass, and had somehow managed to leave his dick untouched. His third self-inflicted treatment had ended just hours earlier, and he was trembling with need.

With Steve’s fingers up his ass, and his virgin nipples getting sucked to kingdom come, he was writhing like a skewered eel.



Ford gingerly stuck his head into his father’s office.


The Reverend Spencer looked up from the blueprints on his desk. Ford realized that the other person in the room wasn’t Ryan.

“Not now, Ford, can’t you see I’m busy!”

“But dad - it’s four o-clock, I’m supposed to -”

“Oh, yes. Well, I’m meeting with Mr. Thorn about the construction project, so I told Ryan to give you your punishment downstairs. You remembered, Ryan wanted you to wear a supporter instead of briefs? Good. Now get down there and take your punishment like a Christian man. Don’t keep Ryan waiting.

Face burning, Ford tried to smile at the visitor, but he found himself staring into a pair of ice-blue eyes brimming with a kind of cruel amusement. They were set in a craggy, tanned face that might have been handsome if it sported even a hint of kindness.

Ford turned to leave.

“Ford! Don't be rude, say hello to Mr. Thorn.”

“Um. Hello.”

Ford ducked out, with the awful feeling that Thorn was having no trouble visualizing him in his jock strap, being ‘punished.’

Ford opened the door to the Undercroft and descended the stairs. The big meeting room was empty, all the chairs, tables, and side sofas gone.


“Back here, Ford.”

Ford wandered through the empty rooms to find Ryan standing at the hall leading back to the kitchen and rest rooms.

“Please, Ryan, we don’t have to do this -”

“Your father said every week, and that I am to give him a full report. Do you want me to go upstairs to his office and tell him you refused? No? I thought not. Now. Follow me.”

Ford followed Ryan down the dank hall, past the immense kitchen, and into the Men’s room or ‘Cloak Room’ as the 1920’s sign called it. There was a large ante room—normally lined with benches, but now empty—followed a room of lavatory sinks and then a big square room with massive porcelain urinals down one wall and wooden toilet stalls on the other.

There was a single wooden chair in the middle of the room, which reeked of decades of poor ventilation.

“All right, Ford. I see that you are properly dressed. Good. Are you wearing the -”

“Yes! I’m wearing the goddam fucking jock strap! Sheesh!”

“Language, Ford. For that, I will add another ten minutes to your punishment. Now get undressed.”

Ford reluctantly began to strip, a process which Ryan watched with skin-crawling intensity. As he stared at Ford’s body, Ryan took off his signature leather tie and took a pair of yellow rubber gloves out of his brief case.

Ford tried to make conversation. “It’s weird down here without the furniture.”

Taking out an old-fashioned kitchen timer, Ryan set it on the floor next to the chair, then pulled on the gloves and sat down.

“The Undercroft Renovation project begins Monday. Thorn Construction is one of the top outfits in the area. I told you last time, keep your socks on, Ford. Good. Now put your hands behind your head and turn around, slowly. Stop there. Reach back and spread your buttocks. You are hesitating, Ford. Does this make you uncomfortable?”


“Good. Now, do as I say or I will go upstairs and ask The Reverend to join us. That’s right. Show me that hole. I’m going to whip that hole into submission, Ford, I am going to punish it. Do you know why? I will tell you. It is unnatural to feel pleasure in the anus. It is the unnatural lust that led to the destruction of Sodom. And when I saw you that day in the locker room, pleasuring yourself with your fingers, I knew. You are a Sodomite, given over to anal pleasure. And I will punish that pleasure with pain until you learn your lesson.”

“Ryan - for god’s sake - I’m not - I don’t -”

“Don't lie to me. Put your fingers in your hole, rub it like I saw you doing that day.”

“No - Ryan -”

“Do it or I will tell your father what I saw.”

Ford slowly reached around and did as Ryan said. A wave of degradation, so strong it nearly made him ill, washed over him as he inserted two fingers up his ass and wiggled them around.

He thought Ryan would tell him to stop once he had made his point.

He thought wrong. Ryan sat patiently, noiselessly, for minute after minute. Several times Ford almost asked him if he could stop, but something told him Ryan would just make it worse if he did.

He could feel Ryan’s steady gaze like a laser against his nude buttocks. Burning him.

The humiliation, the burning feeling, and something about the familiar but now-deserted basement, exposing himself in what was normally a communal area for men, even the rank but intensely personal stink of the place, led to an all-too-familiar tingling in his loins.

Ford bit his lip as his cock began to swell in the pouch of the strap.

His whole body burned.

Ryan must have sensed it, because he told Ford to turn around.

“And keep doing it to yourself.”

With the utmost reluctance, Ford turned around. His erection was somehow all the more obscene for being partially covered.

Ryan made him keep up the degrading anal stimulation for a full five minutes, posing like a statue with his other hand behind his head, his hips thrust forward.

“Look at you. A full Sodomite, enflaming yourself with lust even in the church.”

As if nothing odd were happening, Ryan continued with his discourse on the upcoming construction project.

“The work should be finished by Easter. A state-of the art youth center, with meditation rooms, gym, indoor basketball court, and dormitories for lock-ins.”

Ryan reached down and set the timer for 40 minutes.

“This big old restroom and the adjacent storage area will allow us to have our own locker room and showers. It’s important for Christian youth to keep clean. Clean bodies, clean thoughts. All right, Ford, lay down on my lap. Reach back and hold your buttocks as far apart as you can.”

“Please Ryan, don’t use that tie again, it hurts, I----yowwwwwooouch!”

“It’s supposed to hurt, Ford. Wider, please. Spread your thighs more... there.”

Ford felt a rubber-gloved hand close around his growing penis.

“Ryan? Um - what are you doing?”

“Part of your punishment, Ford. I bet you like thinking about having a communal shower down here. Sodomites like you get off on, don’t you? Watching jocks take showers, naked men, rubbing up against each other, doing things to each other. Unnatural things. The thought arouses you, doesn’t it?”

Actually, it did.

In the long, but randomly spaced, pauses between the stinging lashes to his exposed anus, Ryan worked Ford’s cock, forcing him to turn on to his punishment.

Ryan took his time, prolonging Ford’s humiliation, stroking his cock to the edge and then stopping and then redoubling his assault on Ford’s red-hot asshole. All the while he kept up an insulting stream of reproach, chiding Ford for his unnatural lusts.

Ryan’s puritanical assessment of Ford’s fantasy life was—like each lash of the leather tie—surprisingly on target.

Ford squirmed and bit his lip. Trying not to give Ryan the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to him, but it was no good, and Ford was panting hoarsely and desperate to cum as the timer gave out.

Ryan briskly stroked his cock over the edge, and then let loose a rapid rat-a-tat barrage of stinging blows onto his orgasm-clutched anus, ruining the pleasure of the orgasm.

Ryan stood up abruptly, casting Ford to the floor, where he lay twitching in the last spasms of ejaculation.

“I will report to your father, now. Well Ford? Anything to say?”

Chest heaving, Ford was speechless as he lay there in his own cooling jism. Then he realized what is was Ryan expected him to say. How very like his father.

“T-thank you. For the punishment. Ryan.”



Ford had learned to park his car out behind the far side of the bleachers when he reported for his Sunday sessions with Nick and the Coach. Once some busybody had noticed his car and asked his father why Ford was there on Sunday afternoon. He talked his way out of it, but wasn’t anxious to do so again.

He left the session walking awkwardly. As usual, his ass was pretty sore from the non-stop attention it had just received, but unlike usual, the two guys had denied him orgasm the whole afternoon, and his cock and balls were painfully swollen with the need for release.

Something he would have to take care of promptly when he got home.

He was daydreaming about the toys attached to his special computer, which was why he didn’t see the Russell twins until he was practically on top of them.

They had parked their car right next to his, and were clearly lying in wait. Ford tried to brush past them to his car, but they sprang into action.

“Hey - guys - stop it - what are you - hey -”

In minutes, they had dragged him under the bleachers and into the back door of the concession booth.

The heater was already on. They were ready.

“Hey Ford, what’s with the Sunday visit?”

“Yeah Ford, you were in there for three hours, what’s up with that?”

“Oh, I get it,” one of the boys said in mock revelation. “You were doing the laundry!”

“Yeah, he must of. Laundry Boy. Bet you did a good job, three hours, huh?”

“Hey Ford... I heard tell you like to, you know... sniff those straps... maybe even chew on ‘em. Huh?”

“No way, c’mon guys, this is stupid, let me get up -”

“Yeah, I heard that, too. Must be true, him in there alone with all those stink straps for three hours. Bet he must love it. Check this out!”

One of them pulled a jock strap out of his parka pocket.

“Whew! This is a really ripe one, I must have forgot to turn it in for a few weeks. Plus, you know, jocks make a good spooge rag, cause they get washed at school and your folks don't see it... yeah, this one’s got... gee... nine or ten loads on it, wouldn’t you say?”

“At least!”

“No guys, don't do this, please -”

“Open wide! Hold his mouth for me, that’s it... in she goes!”

They forced the disgusting thing into his mouth, then forced it shut. As he struggled, the moist, stinking cloth started to mix with his saliva, raping his olfactory senses.

“Now, a real faggot would get off on this kind of thing, get hard.”

“Yeah, let’s check it out.”

Slowly, almost tenderly, they unzipped his parka and undid his belt as he struggled to free himself. The wiry twins held him down with no trouble, giggling as they unsnapped his pants and pulled down the zipper.

Ford was not wearing underwear.

His fully erect cock, swollen and red, sprang out, piss lips gaping like a wound.

“Yeah, look at that... what a fag.”

“Yeah. Bet he gets off on it, bet he makes himself shoot while he chews on our stuff and sniffs it.”

“Yeah... do it... make the fag shoot a load.”

Ford struggled, but the two of them held his arms and used duct tape to hold his wrists together behind his back, then wrapped it around his legs so they stuck straight out together. They pulled back his parka to expose his tight-fitting black tee, against which his jutting cock was framed. They propped him up against a cabinet and took pictures of him, squirming while they took turns stroking his all-too-desperate cock, the disgusting strap sticking part-way out of his mouth.

Ford couldn’t help but visualize the other times he had spent in this booth, making porn films for the Coach, jacking off in various lewd situations...

As the banter died away, and the room was filled with heavy breathing, Ford realized they weren’t going to stop until they made him cum.

He wished he could stop it, deny them their little sadistic fun, but his balls were churning with hours of suppressed cum, and like it or not, his body was theirs to play with any way they wanted.

They worked his cock roughly, making him put on a show, delighting as he moaned and whimpered at the edge of ejaculation.

When he finally started to cum, the boy let go of his dick in disgust, letting it bob and shoot like a loose cannon.

They took pictures, the gobs and ropes of white semen obscenely visible on his black tee, his traitor cock still hard, still wanting more.

They made him beg them not to show anyone the pictures, teasing him with scenarios in which they posted pics of his cum-spattered body on the internet.

To keep what happened secret, he was told he had to jack off for them, put on a show.

Kneeling on the cold floor, stripped nude, he did as he was told. One of them shucked off his jeans, and Ford thought: this is it.

But no. The guy took off his underwear, then put his jeans back on. He tossed the still-warm and very fragrant briefs at Ford, and told him to sniff them while he beat off.

Ford did as he was told, smelling the fresh, intense ball starch, the anal musk.

He couldn’t help noticing that the Russell boy was rock hard, and that he was now rubbing his boner in his pants.

Ford’s cock was sore from the rough handling, but he was nevertheless horny as hell and he knew he would shoot another big load.

But he had to work for it, jerking his hips and humping the air like a slut as the Russell twins watched and laughed and rubbed the crotches of their jeans.



The locker room door kicked open and Ford stomped in.

“I can’t believe those fuckers! That picture’s all over, everyone’s got it, and -”

Ford stopped mid-rant as he felt cold steel cuffs snapped to his wrists.

“What the - Nick - what the -mmmffMMMFF!”

Ford found his face in Nick’s crotch, mouth impaled on the thrusting dick, as the Coach yanked down his jeans and mounted him from behind.

Legs tangled in his jeans, hands cuffed, Ford couldn’t do much about it as the two guys raped him at both ends, right in the middle of the locker room where anyone could come in and see.

His two tormentors gleefully timed their orgasms to cum together about ten minutes later.

They pulled out and Ford gasped for breath, his own untouched cock fiercely hard.

Still cuffed, with semen leaking from his lips and rectum, Ford was stripped completely and dragged over to the towel closet. With consternation he saw that the dildo ratchet stool had been set up.

“Oh, please Coach, the period is partway over, I won’t have time to get the key, please...”

“That’s your problem, Ford. Get him hooked up, Nick.”

The Coach left and Nick took great pleasure in impaling Ford on the evil device and tying Ford’s escape key to the long string, out of reach. Ford would have to fuck himself like mad to get free in time.

The Coach returned, with an even more smug expression than Nick’s.

“Well, Ford. Nick tells me you put on quite a show for the Russell boys last night. And now they’ve got a close-up photo of your face with a strap in your mouth going around the school.”

The Coach gave him a predator’s smile.

“So since you seem to want to make spectacle of yourself... I put the TV out in the middle of the locker room. With a tape of you fucking yourself with dildos like a whore. You have 30 minutes to fuck yourself free and stop the tape before the senior PE class comes in and sees it.”

Ford stared at him, utterly speechless. The Coach couldn’t have done something so reckless...

Then he heard the tape audio, coming faintly through the closet door. The Coach had put on one of the tapes where Ford had been forced to read his dirty locker room fantasies aloud...

Ford broke out in a cold sweat and began slamming his ass up and down on the prickle-knobbed ass probe, watching the key move with agonizing slowness on its string...

The Coach paused in the doorway.

“Oh, Nick - make the slut cum as many times as you can while he fucks himself.”

The door shut with a sharp click.

Nick’s hands reached out to Ford’s cock and nipples. The sweaty, dark-haired jock writhed and whimpered as Nick forced him to enjoy it, violating himself as fast as he could, with a strength born of desperation.


Breathing in ragged gasps, mouth slack, Ford watched with longing eyes as the key approached within 6 inches of his cuffed hands. The two loads that Nick had already wrung from his throbbing cock glinted like silver paint on the cement floor.

He was almost there.

The bell to mark the end of sixth period sounded unnaturally loud and Ford gave an involuntary cry of terror. The boys would be there any minute...

He fucked himself with utter abandon, mind filled with images of his classmates, coming in, seeing the filthy tape... finding him cuffed and helpless...

Ford’s horny 18-year-old mind was overwhelmed with debased, lewd, hot images.

Nick redoubled his masturbation efforts and Ford felt a third orgasm start to build. He bounced up and down like a maniac, convinced he could hear voices down the long corridor leading to the gym wing.

The key - and his next ejaculation - crept closer and closer.



Ford grasped the key in triumph at the exact moment semen began to spurt from the tip of his bloated penis.

Half-mad with terror, he scrambled to fit the key to the lock and slip off the cuffs even as Nick continued to pump his spewing dick.

Ripping himself off the 12-inch probe, he dashed naked into the locker room and lunged for the video eject button just as he heard the doors kick open. After a brief pause, the tape spit out.

Ford realized that he was still coming and felt himself nearly black out. He clutched the TV stand for support as the last few loads dribbled from his cock.

When his head cleared he looked up to see 8 or 9 guys crammed in the doorway, slack-jawed. Ford stood slowly, chest heaving, cock still traitorously erect. It was only then that Ford realized that Nick had forced the first several loads all over his chest.

The naked dark-haired jock felt his skin turn to blazing fire. The guys stared at him, watching the gobs of jism trickle lewdly down his pecs and abs. Another dollop of boy-cream crowned the tip of his waving hard-on.

Suddenly there was applause and whistling.

“Whew! Looks like Laundry Boy is here doing a few loads!”

“Man, looks like that load has been waiting six months to get out! Fuck!”

Ford backed away, holding the video cassette, as the other jocks closed in on him, grinning.

Laughing and slapping at his cock and butt, the guys ribbed him, grabbing at the cassette tape.

“What’s the TV for, Ford? Huh? Got some special training tapes? Show you how to choke the chicken?”

“Maybe we should push you out in the hall, since you like to run around like a bare-assed faggot!”

Ford backed up toward his locker, fighting blind panic. He looked up and saw that one of the guys was standing apart from the general grab-ass.

Ryan Van Dyne.

Ford turned and managed to stuff the tape in his locker and slam the lock shut before the other jocks could grab it. He turned around to see that Ryan had picked up another tape from the stack and was holding it up.

“What’s all this, Ford? I thought the sports tapes were all labeled.”

Ryan stared down his perfectly straight nose and smirked.

Ford realized that the cart was full of the Coach’s homemade porn. His stomach gave a powerful lurch. Jeezuz... if Ryan ever got a look at that... holy fuck.

The door kicked open again just as Ford lunged for the tape.

“All, right, guys, simmer down.”

The Coach calmly walked to Ryan and took the tape from his hand. The snotty self-righteous bastard started to tell the Coach what Ford had been up to.

“I can see for myself what Spencer has been up to, Ryan. Pretty obvious, isn’t it, guys? Well, we can’t let the poor guy prance around in this condition. I suggest you all give Ford a long hot shower. Looks like he could use some cleaning up.”

Chortling, the pack of randy jocks—led, of course, by the lewdly grinning Russell boys—hoisted Ford’s naked body up and carried him off the to the showers, shrugging out of their street clothes en route. The Coach smiled and started to trundle the cart back to his office. He paused, meeting the judgmental glare of the tall blond graduate.

“What are you looking at, Ryan? Get dressed for class.”

Ryan gave the Coach a funny look before moving over to his locker and turning away to unbutton his dress shirt.

Echoing down the tiled hall leading to the showers, the hissing spray of water was punctuated by shouts of dirty laughter. To hear Ford’s squeals and yells of protest, it sounded like the guys were giving the jock a very thorough clean-up indeed...



Ford glanced at the clock. Almost time for sixth hour and another ‘special’ period with the Coach.

He had spent all day avoiding the eye of the senior guys. Thank god the Russell twins had been absent from school today, he could only imagine what they would have done.

The thought of what had happened in the shower the day before still made his stomach turn flip-flops. Word was getting around, and he heard snickers behind his back in the halls. The one time he finally used the toilet, desperate to pee, the room had fallen silent the moment he walked in. As the door closed on the way out, he heard a burst of raucous laughter.

The bell rang, and Ford used his pass to leave study hall and made his way down the long side corridor leading out to the deserted locker room.

The Coach was waiting for him in the private training room, watching TV, cock in hand. As Ford came in, the Coach hit the Pause button.

Ford had been so consumed with re-living the humiliation and avoiding the other guys that he had temporarily forgotten about the Coach’s secret cameras.

He stared in dismay at the screen, a secret film of yesterday’s humiliating ‘shower’.

“This is too good to miss, Ford, let’s start the video from the beginning. Hurry up and strip down, boy, I’m raring for a nice hard fuck.”

As Ford unbuttoned his shirt, he saw that the Coach had hung the pair of cuffs from the ceiling, right over his favorite spot on the couch.

It was going to be one of THOSE fucks. On the Coach’s lap, hands cuffed overhead.

Facing the TV.

30 seconds later Ford was naked, hands cuffed, straddling the Coach’s lap as the older guy squirted lube all over his massive dick. The Coach put his hands around Ford’s slim hips and drew him down, down, all the way, until the muscular jock was fully impaled.

Ford was then told to stick his legs out and put his feet on the ottoman, forcing his full weight onto his butt.

The Coach started the tape, and Ford relived the scene as it was happening.

The boys had gone wild, holding him by the arms and legs, turning the showers full-blast and rinsing the cum off his body, as other hands roughly soaped his cock, balls, and ass.

The naked jocks jostled against him and each other, wet skin sliding deliciously, hard cocks abounding. Laughing.

As the wet male flesh pressed against him, Ford was unable to make his traitor cock get soft, much to the amusement of his tormentors.

“Looks like Laundry Boy still needs to do another load.”

“What a fag. We should jerk him off, make him shoot all over himself.”

There was a pause as the atmosphere teetered on a change of tone. Was this just good ole playtime... or...

One bold guy, egged on by the comments of the Russell twins, reached out and grabbed Ford firmly by the cock.

“No! Don’t! Please!”

“Shut him up.”

A hand clamped over Ford’s mouth. The room stilled except for the spray of the showers, and a hint of rougher breathing.

The hand began to stroke, slowly. Someone coughed.

“I don’t know - maybe we shouldn’t - what if Coach catches us?”

“Coach never comes back to the showers, you know that.”

The stroking grew faster. The circle of jocks stared at Ford’s dick, eyes turning feral, lips parting with hot breath.

Ford rolled his eyes from side to side, pleading silently, but the naked jocks pressed closer, forming a primitive pack.

The hand working his cock grew more blatantly sexual, sensual.

Another guy used his free hand to grab his own dick, and began masturbating.

“Fuck, dude, do it, milk that faggot.”

The tension snapped and the atmosphere clicked over into raw sex mode. A glazed, hungry look came over them, and they took turns beating him off as they stroked their own cocks.

The guys whispered filth, their hissed words blending in a soft symphony of sibilant lewdness.

Ford struggled and tried like hell to break free, but he was overpowered. Hands pinched his nipples, twisted his hanging nut sack, cupped his buttocks. The hand stroking his cock was slick with soap, and the sexy feeling was driving him toward greater humiliation.

Tears formed at the corners of his eyes, disappearing into the shower spray, and he whimpered pathetically into the hand clamped over his mouth.

Then one daring jock slipped a hand into his ass crack, letting his fingers graze Ford’s exposed anus. There was a heavy pause.

“What do you think guys? Should we see if he likes it?”

“Yeah,” came the husky reply. “Yeah. Okay. Do it.”

Ford felt a blunt digit press against his pucker. He tried to clamp down, but the slippery suds provided excellent lube and the finger breached his hole, sliding deep inside.

The guys stood still, waiting for Ford’s reaction. The hand stopped stroking his cock.

Helpless to prevent it, Ford’s hips moved on their own, grinding a nice figure-eight pattern.

“Jeezus. Will you look at that.”

Ford burned with utter shame as the guys watched him turn on to the finger fuck. The jocks were breathing hard and fast now, panting as they beat their own dicks.

Then the hand grabbed his dick again, and worked him step by step closer to blowing his load...

“Snap out of it, Ford. You’re going to miss the good part.”

Ford jerked his head, back in the training room. The Coach was forcing Ford to bounce up and down, slamming his prostate on the cock in his ass, his own cock completely untouched, drooling a string of pre-cum as the Coach pinched and rolled his sensitive nipples.

On the screen, his back was arched, and jets of cum were shooting up over the heads of the naked jocks holding his body. The camera showed a back view of several dudes, their buttocks tightening in preparation for their own orgasms.

The whole group came within minutes, grunting and gasping as their seed spilled to the wet tile floor.

“Fuck, that was damn’ hot, boy, let’s watch it again. How much you wanna bet I can make us both cum in synch with the movie? Huh?”

Watching it again, with that delightfully rough fist working his shaft and cock knob, Ford knew the Coach could make him cum on demand. But the worst part was listening to the Coach scheme how he could encourage the senior jocks into going even further next time.

Ford’s biggest fear was that it wouldn’t take much.

Ford shuddered as he imagined being made into a public sex faggot. Surely the Coach wouldn’t dare, he would risk exposure himself...



Day Three if Russell Twin Hell Week. Beginning of sixth hour, on his way to the Coach’s office.

There was no one in the Boys Toilet. Thank God.

Ford dashed to a urinal to pee, he had been avoiding it all day.

The door opened.

In the mirror over the urinals, he saw the two Russell twins.

It turned out that one of them had snuck back to his locker during Ford’s shower attack, and retrieved his cell phone.

They had more pictures.

Shower pictures.

Ford backed toward the door, zipping up.

“Please guys, I can’t talk about this right now, I’m late reporting to Coach MacAnally’s office, he’ll kill me -”

“That’s okay, Ford. We don’t need to talk. We’ll just pop by the Baptist Church after school. See if your dad has time to talk instead.”

“No. No! You can’t!”

“Well... I suppose we could be—convinced—to skip the rest of study period. If you gave us a real good reason.”

Ford felt himself being pushed to his knees. His head was spinning, this couldn’t be happening...

The twins exchanged dirty whispers over his head.

“Oh, fuck, look, he’s really doing it... how does it feel?”

“Aaawwww, sssshhhhit, awesome, bro... fucking fantastic... yeah, Ford, do that thing with your tongue again oh FUCK that feels awesome...”

“My turn next.”

“Oh whhoooossh! It won’t take long... hey, get out the phone.”

“Yeah, good idea! Memory says... I can do about 4 minutes of video.”

“Cool. Ohh, shit, dude! Ready-or-not, here I CUM!”




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