The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then why are you here? Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story. Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age, in most states and countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by law. Check with your local laws regarding such.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection.
HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe 05 wriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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"Hey!" Steve calls attention to Hunter, to follow, after walking through the backyard about ten feet. "I want to show you something."
'No problem', thought Hunter, the teen following the bare ass, smiling, thinking it humorous to see Steve's balls bouncing, cock swaying back and forth as he catches up, walking beside him. "Aren't we going swimming?" Hunter asks as they walk along the edge of the built-in, cement pool.
"First I'd like you to see something."
"Sure," Hunter replies, as they walk past a cabana, a small house-like enclosure. From the direction they are headed, he spots windows above what looks to be a garage. From the tall trees separating their properties, he's never took notice before. Coming upon the small, square building, a staircase leads to an upstairs door.
"When Gregg Malone was showing me the estate, he gave me the rundown on the history of the place, saying the housing part was actually second to the garage," Steve educates Hunter, climbing the stairs. "The only original building is this," he opens the door. "Gregg suggested tearing it down, but contrary to his thoughts, I countered him, 'What a great place this would be to set up my hobby.' What do you think?"
Hunter swallowed what drool he had in his mouth, gazing upon the equipment which focused on Steve's hobby, something not so foreign from what he's used to back home. "Nice," Hunter said of the telescope, which lense focused ahead of him, right out the window. It made him feel guilty right away, though he hadn't yet said anything of 'his' hobby. "See many stars or planets?"
"Oh, well, haven't had much time to do anything with, other than set it up."
Silence prevailed for a moment. Hunter felt pressured as Steve stood, leaning against the ridge of a desk, arms folded across his middle. He wondered it Steve was on to him? He figured he better say something quick! With boxes piled up inside the small, square room, it gave him leeway, "Well maybe after you've settled in you can take up some stargazing." He didn't see Steve smiling as Hunter involved himself in looking over the telescope.
"I have a confession to make."
This keyed Hunter's attention towards Steve.
"Yeah," he said nonchalantly, "I've never told anyone this and hope you can keep a secret, but I've used it more for seeing if the planets are aligned!"
Sounded to him like Steve was prying, maybe already making some educated guesses, but Hunter played stoopid, "Have you seen the phases of the moon? I think the face is made up of craters?"
"Believe me," step kept the conversation going, "I've seen 'quite' a few phases of the moon!"
Getting wise to Steve, after all, he's been there, he takes a look through the lense, adjusting where the telescope is pointed. He finds if he tilts it to a right degree angle, he can refocus it on a gap between the trees. And then, dropping the end he is looking through, the other end lifts upwards. 'Bingo!', he can see his own bedroom window!
"See anything?" Steve asks.
Wise, Hunter asks, "Is this the reason you came to my back door in search of a cup of flour?"
"Sugar?" Steve corrects.
"Whatever, Steve."
"That and did you know there's a flaw in the painting over of your basement windows?"
This brought back to Hunter the day he and Marshall decided to open their basement for some 'fun', Marshall's idea of painting the basement windows black for their privacy. He asks Steve, "So what are you doing? Making a career change?"
So remote was Hunter's change of subject, Steve asks, "I beg your pardon?"
"English professor-turned-extortionist?" Hunter put it to him. "How much do you want from Marshall and me?"
Steve put it to Hunter, "Me? Want? I don't want anything."
"Then what's all the fuss about bringing me here to look through your telescope and to discover you can stalk my bedroom window?"
Cutting a smile on his face, it happening slow, Steve says, "You know I was doing the same thing the day the movers were bringing my furniture inside?"
"Is that so?"
"They hadn't a clue as to me watching them. I probably even had more of an advantage. I don't suppose you could see around the other side of the truck?"
Hunter says, "It did block my view some."
"Did you know your brother 'groped' Hector?"
"No," Hunter said with conviction. "He never said."
"Yeah. Squeezed real hard too. So close did the telescope bring me that not only cold I see your brother's hand on the package, but moving the lense upwards, I could catch the picture of Hector's face, him wincing in pain and loving it!"
Figuring all this was coming to one central theme, as Steve made it a point to comment about Barrett's tormented pecs, almost wishing it were his pecs, he makes assumption, "So what what are you getting at Steve?"
Detaching his ass from the desk, Steve paces the short walk to where Hunter is standing. "Actually, it's twofold."
"Oh?" It did pique Hunter's interest, wondering what went beyond fulfilling Steve's needs, as far as the domination concept went, details to be worked out.
"Ninety percent of the time I 'do' have the desire to have my sensitive pecs 'played with' and perhaps have your inventive hands have their way with 'other parts' of my anatomy, but there's also that ten percent, when I get in a certain mood and find the desire to 'dominate'?"
Thinking right away of 'himself' being the dominated half of this arrangement, Hunter is quick to say, "Now wait a minute right there, Steve. If you're talking about 'me' being the one who is..."
"No, no, no... not at all," Steve jumps the gun, cutting off Hunter's assumptions. "I'm not insinuating in any respect whatsoever of harming a hair of this sweet," he had to check, his hands almost in place around Hunter's waist, them moving to his waist... "a hair on this sweet bod of yours!" He smiled, peering down at Hunter's waist, viewing the thin, dark, teen happy trail, eyes following it upwards, as it disappeared into the deep innie.
Demonstratively, Hunter shoos Steve's hands entirely away from his waist. "So you want me to play with your pecs Steve?"
"More than that. I have some other things I'd like to try out."
"But the 'ten percent'... like how does that go?" Hunter asks, inquisitive about what seemed to be Steve's hidden agenda.
Walking away, Steve mentions, "Your brother."
"Marshall. What about him?"
"I take it he is strictly a top?"
Hunter let out a false laugh, "Hah! Yeah. I could never picture Marsh as being anything but! Believe me, he's the living image of a dictator. He's as tough as they come!"
Clapping his hands together, Steve leaves them clasped as he turns around, saying, "Perfect then!"
"I don't get it, Steve."
"A full circle," he says. It must've shown on Hunter's face, Steve further explaining, "You have your fun with me, same time giving me the jollies I require to keep me hard, that is, ninety percent of the time. Then, this is where your brother steps in," Steve changes from happy-go-lucky to a more sinister tone. "The ten percent of the time where I like to take on the role as, you put it, 'dictator'?"
"You?" Hunter replies, like testing for thin ice on a frozen lake. And putting two and two together, "What about my brother?" In his wildest thoughts, he was thinking of Marshall and Steve dominating him, putting him in the position of being the 'used' part of the equation.
Was he ever wrong when Steve retorts, as he rubs his hands together, "Oh how thrilling it would be to bring your brother to his knees!"
"Marsh?" Hunter roars with laughter. "You're fuckin' kiddin'?" More laughter, he says, "He would never allow anything like that."
Laughing along, Steve replies, "Yeah. I figured so. That's why it will make everything so perfect."
Walking over to Steve, placing a hand on Steve's shoulder, Hunter says, "No, you don't understand Steve." Then, holding up both hands, fingers straight up, thumbs evening out the corners of Hunter's hands framing in a picture, he says, "Marshall is strictly a top. The 'man' who dictates to other guys what 'he' wants. You might as well save your breath to tell him otherwise."
Steve, using some logic, says, "Have you ever thought about how it might feel to have your brother on his knees, in front of you, bowing to 'your' wishes, sucking your cock?"
Hunter was about to set Steve straight regarding his idea of dominion, ready to speak his mind.
But Steve tore on ahead of him, "Think of it! Marshall totally incapacitated and at your beck and call..."
"Um, Steve?" Hunter tried breaking in.
"On his knees in front of you as you stand there.... your cock in your hand, giving hint for him to suck on your thick, teen cock..."
"How do you know I have a thick cock, Steve?"
"I don't. It's a figure of speech."
It stopped their deliberation momentarily.
"Um, do you?" Steve asks.
Since it brought the conversation to a standstill, Hunter thought it a good time to inform him, "Steve, Marsh already sucks my cock!"
"What?" Steve acts with total surprise. "But I thought you said..."
Hunter goes on to explain the 'exception', a tryst of sorts between them, the 'brotherly love' thing, whereas over the years, Marshall has allowed his lips to entertain only one cock!
Seeing this the case, Marshall only bowing to one other crotch, he returns to his evil way, "So, you think Marshall would have a very big problem with sucking me?"
"I told you, Steve. My brother'll only do me," Hunter says like it's a final, done deal.
"Excellent!" Steve replies.
With impatience, or perhaps tired of this going around in circles and not coming to a full conclusion, Hunter asks, "Steve, you want to spell it out to me in black and white?"
"From what you've just told me and how I've observed your brother's comings and goings, the way he carries himself, it would really turn me on to 'break' him."
"And you think I'm going to allow you to do that to my brother?"
"Ready for that swim?"
Standing his ground, even though Steve has headed for the door, Hunter replies, "No, I'm not ready for any swim." But Steve didn't wait, Hunter finding himself standing there, addressing the four walls.
"Coming?" Steve asks sweetly, as he pokes his head back through the door.
"I suppose so," Hunter replies, making for the door.
%
"Glad you could make it Marshall!"
Entering the home where the superbowl party, actually beginning the day before and lasting into the next, Hector was admitted. Marshall following him, Hector introduced him to Simon Dehler, a man which seemed to center around Hector's age, which was mid-30's.
"Nice grip," Marshall replied after having his hand shook. His meaning was more than saying something about the size of Simon's hand!
"Yeah," Simon replies, morphing it into a rounded fist. With his other hand he put his finger lifted to his pursed lips, signifying 'quiet'.
"Place looks nice," Hector says, giving the walls a three hundred and sixty degree pan. When he returns to the alcove where they've entered, he's unprepared for Simon's reason for shushing Marshall, "Ughhhhhhhhhhh-oh-h-h-h-h-shit!" he yells as Simon's fist is thrown into his gut, him doubling over, falling to his knees.
Roaring with laughter, Simon laughes his ass off.
Like an infection, the way Simon delivers his delight of gut-punching Hector, Marshall begins laughing also, saying, "That was so fuckin' cool Simon!"
Bending over, reaching down under him, Simon's hand grabs the front of Hector's shirt, gathering it up as he lifts Hector off the floor. "Here, try it for yourself, Marshall!"
"No guys... c'mon," Hector tries to stop, one hand still holding his stomach, the other straight out, trying to enforce his decision.
"Nonsense," Simon casually says, getting behind Hector, manhandling him into a full nelson. "Go ahead Marshall. Show me what you can do!"
Standing behind Hector, Simon stood about six feet, two inches tall. He wasn't per se fat, nor chubby, but rather 'beefy'. To Marshall, he 'breathed' in the 'top model' Simon's bod projected, the close cropped beard and earring in his left ear lending to beef up the role he played.
From the time they entered Simon's house and after the gut-punch, this is when the roleplay automatically kicked in. Hector was already playing the part of the 'unwilling' victim, his rants in disagreement of the treatment he was receiving, a pawn actually utilized to tell the other two players to 'bring it on'. "No... please... no more..." Hector begged.
Into it, Marshall says, "I think I need to see my target!"
Holding Hector in a full nelson, it stretched every fiber of his shirt, the buttons seeming like they were ready to pop right off, the material of his shirt so stretched, small gaps formed, showing off 'spacings' of his hairy bod.
"Just save some action for me!" Simon agrees, laughing his ass off.
Same time as Marshall is ripping open the front of Hector's shirt, Simon is beefing it up on the bondage hold, forcing Hector's arms farther up and behind him, his head bent forward at the neck, making his abs more taut.
"If you want, Marsh, there's a baseball bat in the hall closet?"
"Cool!" Marshall says, heading out for the hall closet, near where he entered.
While away, the players chat, Hector volunteering first, in a soft voice, "This is gonna be so hot!"
"Yeah," Simon whole-heartedly agrees, with tons of enthusiasm, "doesn't look like the type to hold back either!"
"Don't you worry. You and him are gonna have a lot of fun with me!"
"This it?" Marshall toys with Hector's emotions, holding the baseball bat and pounding the fat end against his palm.
Simon replies, "Yeah. You'll be giving it to him nice'n'hard in the abs and I'm about ready to use my 'bat' in the back here!"
They both got the meaning, but nobody more than Hector, feeling Simon's 'bat' nudging him in the ass!
Marshall tested it out first, holding the wooden baseball bat up to Hector's stomach, right above his bellyhole, the place where the trail which swirled out over it, the hair pattern opening up to fan out over his taut stomach. He nudged the bat inwards, creating a small indentation in Hector's abs. "Betchas these abs can take it hard, huh Simon?" he looks up at Simon, overriding Hector's face.
Even so, Hector is ranting, "You guys are insane!"
"Hee, hee," Simon precedes the call, "draw it way back before you plunge it into his gut!"
Though given permission, Marshall has never hit a guy in the stomach with a baseball bat before. Thus, he decided to take it a little bit conservative and using one hand, brings it back less than what Simon has pictured it. Drawing it up rather hastily, he doesn't give Hector much warning before the bat makes impact.
"Ughhhhhhhhhhhh-ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" Hector belches and then reacts to the sweet feeling of feeling his abs cave in.
"That the best you can do?" Simon questions Marshall.
Immediately, he releases Hector, who falls to the floor, moaning and holding his gut, almost forming into a fetal position.
"Here, give me that thing. Lemme show you how to properly use it." Then, turning towards Hector, breathing hard, "Get'em up and hold him tight."
Marshall wasn't used to this. Normally, as his set up in the basement would go, his willing victim would be tied, either cuffed and then staked out with ropes extended to a cross beam, or flat out on the banquet table, tied eagle-spred. He wasn't used to physically apprehending a guy. Too, trying to get Hector to his feet was another feat in itself.
Simon mentions, "You gotta get with me when I go to the gym, Marshall!"
"Sure," Marshall agrees, immediately liking Simon as soon as he walked in the door, after the surprise gut-punch. After he clasps Hector's arms behind his back, he asks, "This okay?"
"Nah," Simon says, dropping the bat on the floor. "Better if he's in a full nelson. Really opens up his abs for punishment." Helping Marshall, Simon at the same time peels Hector's shirt off over his shoulders, saying, "He ain't gonna be needing this shirt anymore!"
He makes is so Hunter can put Hector in a full nelson.
Looking at him, Simon reaches for the bat, dropping it as soon as picking it up, saying, "Y'know, he ain't gonna be needin' the pants neither!"
Marshall couldn't see much of what was happening in front of him, but Simon and Hector were having a wordless talk, exchanging smiles as Simon unbuckled Hector's belt, then depantsed him.
"Hey, y'know Marshall?"
"What?" Marshall asks, as Simon squats down to remove Hector's work boots and pants. Moving Hector a little to the side, he looks down upon Simon.
"After I get finished working over his gut with the bat, you want first dibs at his balls?"
If Hector wasn't feeling Marshall's nudge from behind by now, he was surely soon to feel it, Marshall telling Simon, "I never used a bat on a guy before today. Shit! Take a hit to the balls with a bat? It'll like break them!"
"Nah," Simon replies in an easygoing manner. Reaching up and giving the big sacs a squeeze, he renders, "Not 'these'. Hector's got balls of steel!"
This time Marshall could see some eye contact. Not Hector's face looking back at Simon's wry smile, but imagined Hector returning the same. He then made his own determination on account of Hector's cock was standing straight out from his pubes on a slight angle, "Yeah, I think I'd like to take first dibs at smashing his big balls. Um, but I hope I don't over exaggerate, it being my first time at baseball-batting a guy's balls?"
It was meant to feed Hector's ego and if he could only be inside of Hector, he would have sensed the excitement, want and need to have his balls bashed.
"Yeah, but first things first!" Simon said, picking up the baseball bat at the same time as tossing Hector's pants aside. Spitting into both hands, he rubbed them together, placing the baseball bat in his hands as if over home plate.
Even though he held Hector's bod, his arms woven up and under his victim's arms, hands cupped behind head, he made it a point to see what the action was in front. "Cool!" Marshall said of Simon's position, standing slightly to Hector's right, fashioning his feet in a baseball player's stnace, lining the side of the tip of the bat up to Hector's stomach. He couldn't see where, but approximated it to be slightly where he had rammed the bat in moments ago.
"Yeah... Gonna hit a fuckin' home run!" Simon says, tapping the bat against the center of his friend's abs.
Dramatically, Hector pleads, "No guys... c'mon... you don't have to do this!"
If not for the pretense, their entering the house, the friendly rapport between Hector and Simon, then what followed, Marshall could have been convinced of Hector's pleading, the real sense of his portrayal and not that as if reading lines of a script.
First time for everything, Marshall held his breath, drew in his own abs as Simon drew the bat back, over his shoulder and hearing the delivering, like the smack of a bat against a baseball, he could swear the bat traveled right through Hector's bod and connected with his own abs. "Oh fuck!" he exclaimed, the impact driving him off his feet as well. He landed on the sofa, disconnecting the bondage hold he held on Hector.
"Yes!" Simon exclaimed out loud, driving his fist and elbow downwards. "Woohoo! Home run!"
In the meantime, Hector lay out on his back, his arms across his middle.
Leaning on the baseball bat, using it as a crutch, Simon crossed his legs and standing in a casual manner, asks, "You okay bud?"
Marshall, still slumped on the sofa waits for Hector's gripes to replace his pants for breath.
Quite to the contrary, Hector replies, "Oh man that was so fuckin' hot, Si! Gimme another?"
"Nah. Maybe later. Marshall wants to work over your balls." Then to Marshall, "You want to do some major ball-bashin', right?"
"Sure," Marshall replies, but unsure.
Giggling, Simon says, "Yeah... hit a home run, but 'lower'!" He laughs his ass off, which only serves to psych-up Marshall!
"Hell yeah!" he says, jumping to it, right onto his feet from the sofa.
"That's the spirit!" Simon says, handing the bat to Marshall.
Again they get the stop sign from Hector, him complaining, "No guys... C'mon.. I've had enough.. look at my poor stomach... it's all red."
Simon just smiles, saying, "We'll be the ones to determine when you've had enough!"
Marshall laughed at Simon's antics, grabbing hold of Hector's nips, using them for handles to lift him up to his feet. He gasped, "Oh shit!" when Hector grabbed ahold of Simon's wrists, a ploy to have him stop the excruiating pain of having his nips stretched, Simon in retribute, releasing one nip to slap Hector across the face.
"Don't you fuckin' touch me, bitch!" He throws Hector on the sofa, sitting him on the arm of the fabric-covered tuft of furniture. Hector's legs fall to the sides of the arm, his cock and balls resting on top like the main dish at a feast. Walking behind the sofa, he grabs Hectors arms and pulls them back, really flaunting his frontal region. "His insuboordination isn't going unnoticed, Marshall. I've got a flogger and a strap we can discipline him with later. But for now let's get to some hot nut-crackin'!"
"Hell yeah!" Marshall says with excitement, his pubes really stretching his jeans. Too, he takes notice of the two really red nips under the layer of chest fur. Returning his attention to Hector's lower region, he remains a little unsure of how much pressure to put on a man's balls with the baseball bat!
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Copyright 2010 T. Chase McPhee
`HuNTeR GeTs CaPTuReD By ThE GaMe' may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author.
The more you stretch, the more you can fit in... 'spread' happiness! TCMcP.....