This memory goes back a few years to a popular summer beach town in Delaware very popular with gay men from all over. Many guys rented beach houses, apartments and rooms for the season often running Memorial Day to Labor Day.
3 buddies, Bill, Mike and Kevin, were young, buff, self-centered, arrogant "gym rats" not giving a damn about anyone or anything except for pumping iron, displaying their deeply tanned/glistening muscles, the location of the next A-List party, and boasting about their conquests, cock sizes and virility. Happy hour, each evening, was filled with Jello shots, tank tops, muscles and flexing. They were self-proclaimed Total Studs!
This beach town really had two gay beaches, one at the southern end of town where the young, ripped, buff guys hung out and another just north of the town where the cubs, bears and older guys tended to gather. The latter was more laid back and quiet with no loudspeakers blasting and more chips and pizza being consumed.
The 3 buddies I mentioned used to enjoy having a few cold beers and sitting or standing on the rocky jetty and making, okay yelling at times, derogatory comments about the boxer clad, chubby cubs, bears and older guys frolicking in the waves. Often the waves would nearly pull off their baggy swimwear, and the trio would hoot, yell insults and compare physiques to theirs. Okay, I am going to admit that I was one of those guys. I also admit that of the three of us, I seemed to enjoy humiliating the bigbois the most. I had a big, foul and abusive mouth especially after a few drinks. Who cared about those out shape losers anyway! Guess the bigbois felt intimidated by our bold, in your face attitude and glistening muscles as it was rare for anyone to respond back except maybe to give us the finger. We loved it when they did get pissed at us. Nothing those losers could do to real men like us anyway. They just had to deal with it.
Four or five seasons later, with all this a memory, I arrived at that same beach, around 11 a.m., my usual time, with my beach blanket, towels, and lunch. I usually wore my oversized t-shirt and loose boxers over my far too small, canary yellow bikini. From the parking lot, it was a pretty long walk to the end of the beach where I usually set up. I had packed on a few pounds no longer sporting a 32" waist and a six-pack of abs. Okay, again, I confess that I had chubbed out pecs, belly, groin, waistline and butt. I had gone from 160 lbs to 220. I was still muscular but let's say those muscles were all padded quite a bit more and, as always, pretty much just for show. I was always all mouth and no action. Life was good! I had no worries, lots of good meals and the same old cocky attitude.
That morning I lugged my things through a larger than normal crowd of guys heading for my isolated, far end of the beach retreat. I did notice three guys seemed to be observing me rather closely and conferring back and forth. I just figured they knew I was hot and could not stop staring. I did not think too much more about it. When you've got it all, like I, they are envious.
I had just spread my blanket and was getting my hot, boxed pizza out, trying to hide it from the gulls, when those same three guys approached. "Yeah, that is HIM! That's the same guy. He even has the same bleached blond hair but is balding now. He has really porked out! I am CERTAIN it is him. No doubt."
"ON YOUR FEET, ASSHOLE" they demanded. "What the fuck", I replied. "We KNOW it was you and your two fucking buddies. You ruined many a beach visit for us awhile back". They pointed over to those same rocks where we used to position ourselves back in the day. "Do you deny it? Don't even try to lie, Fucker!"
Totally caught off guard, and getting a bit anxious about all this, I tried to calm things down and smooth it all over. "Oh, I am so sorry guys. My friends and I had had a lot to drink and things got out of control. It was really nothing personal. Want a slice of hot pizza, guys?"
"NO, we don't want any of your fucking pizza" spat back the shorter of the refaced/enraged bears clearly out for blood. I nervously apologized once again for my behavior and started to lie back down. "Not much else I can do guys. Just water over the dam. You just need to move on, you know get over it."
"GET OVER IT?" I was yanked to my feet by my retreating blond locks as the bigboi I am struggled to free myself from their grip. They had pulled my t-shirt over my head and used that, was well as my hair, to control me. One of them took a wad of the sloppy pizza and shoved it into my mouth. I cursed and bellowed but as much as I struggled, I was no match for the three of them. My arms were entangled in the fabric, and I felt like my retreating blond locks had retreated by a handful more, roots and all. All 220 pounds of me was being helplessly subdued. I was FURIOUS but PANICKING.
I finally managed to break free leaving my torn designer t-shirt behind. "I am going home", I blurted out. "Not so fast, Fatboi", as they held up my phone, wallet and keys, I lunged to retrieve those only to trip and fall on the tangled blanket. Off came my trunks leaving me huffing, puffing and enraged, clad only in a much too tight and skimpy canary yellow bikini that I only wore in isolation to tan.
"Piggy here wants some more pizza guys" as they rubbed the rest of the sloppy mess into my bottle blond hair. "Looks good on you Blondie. Might help grow back some of the hair you used to sport. You sure are one pitiful mess, Has Been. Time has not been your friend, CHUB!"
Panicking, on my hands and knees, I tried again to grab the keys but a strong hand held me by the skimpy yellow fabric. They muscled me to my feet facing the gathering crowd of guys. One of my tormentors whispered in my ear to confess to the crowd and admit what I did. Red-faced, I complied, convinced my nightmare would be over. "Now, confess you are nothing but a fat, impotent, stubby dicked hog." I just could not admit that. I shook my head no and again tried to flee.
A quick knee to the groin halted that FAST and I doubled over clutching my family jewels. "SAY IT, BOI. CONFESS in my exact words!"
Two of the guys conferred, nodded to their buddy, tripped me again and began pulling off the tight protective fabric. I HOWLED in protest as the crowds cheered in delight. I can still hear the thin fabric ripping and I will never be able to forget looking down at my protruding, wobbly, now man jugs, soft pot and thick fatpad. My stubby little thingy was not even visible from my angle, but I could feel it barely emerging down there. This just could not be happening TO ME!
The guys high-fived each other doubling over in laughter pointing at my freshly waxed crotch, little pinky dick's face peeping out and no balls in sight! Hiding in shame, no doubt. I grabbed my keys and sprinted for the parking lot, zigzagging through the many spectators, being tripped once in a while, with my impotent weenie/micropenis, well-nourished formerly hard pecs now man jugs/nursers wobbling, my soft, protruding belly jiggling and my thick, concealing fatpad all in motion. All I saw were dozens of cameras videotaping every second of my humiliating payback. Justice prevailed.
