The Downfall of Nate Ramsey

THE DOWNFALL OF NATE RAMSEY

Disclaimer: ------------

This story is a gay authoritarian fantasy; no part of it is based in fact and none of the characters are intended to resemble real persons, living or dead. The major setting for this story is the fictional town of Mount Pleasant, Franklin County, Virginia. This continuing story chronicles the humiliating ordeals an 18-year-old high school basketball player is subjected to against his will. These ordeals often have a strong sexual component and wreak a terrible emotional toll on the unfortunate victim. If you are underage, or do not want to read about such matters, you should leave this webpage at once and never look back.

Chapter Eight: --------------- "Dire straits for the tired straight"

Monday morning dawned bright and sunny. Unfortunately, the same could not be said of Nate's prospects for the school week. Having been systematically degraded over the weekend in a series of ordeals culminating in his brutal gang-bang, Nate now had to look forward to more of the same, only in a new -- and much more public -- setting: his high school. He fervently hoped that his tormentors' ability to humiliate him might be substantially reduced when they were amongst their peers, but somehow he doubted it. With their unhealthy appetites for revenge and intimate knowledge of what made Nate squirm the worst, they would undoubtedly come up with further fiendish torments designed to cause maximum embarrassment for the unfortunate stud.

This particular morning, Nate was standing in his bedroom, naked save for the bandage on his lower back. His black hair was still damp from the shower and a few stray beads of water glistened on his smooth, bare skin. This in itself was not an unusual sight in Nate's bedroom on most mornings. What was unusual was that Nate had neglected to draw his curtains. The wide windows that lined two walls of his bedroom offered passerby on the street and his immediate neighbor a fine, unobstructed view of the reluctantly naked stud. Nate's slave masters had decreed that his curtains never be drawn. By allying themselves with Nate's immediate neighbor, 15-year-old Bobby Rawlins, who was able to see Nate's bedroom from his own, they were able to make sure that their slave followed this order to the letter.

Nate looked down at the outfit Troy had picked out for him the day before and cringed. It was not as revealing as what he'd been forced to wear over the weekend, but it was also far from what he would have worn to school under normal circumstances. First, he pulled on the hot pink bikini briefs. They were too small, barely covering his bubble butt at the back and framing his dick and balls prominently at the front. The material was tight and sheer enough to make no secret of the fact that Nate was circumcised. The inch-high black waistband, with the brand name lettered in white, was the only material at the sides. Nate, a habitual wearer of loose boxer shorts, was revealing a lot more skin with his new `choice' of underwear.

Next, Nate clipped the small, brass nipple ring onto the large, dark aureole that crowned his hefty left pec ("pepperoni nipples" was what Wes fondly -- and secretly -- called the matching pair; an allusion as much to their size and color as to what he imagined they would taste like). The nipple ring actually looked good on Nate, accentuating his tanned and well-muscled torso, but Nate's thoughts tended more towards how it made him appear like a fag. He hastily wriggled into a skintight and rather worn beige t-shirt that he'd outgrown a couple of years before and never intended to wear again. If only he'd listened to his mom and donated it to charity instead of sticking it in his wardrobe to be found by the likes of Troy in their quest to humiliate him further. He looked down at his torso and gulped. The thin material framed his sculpted body beautifully by clinging to his meaty pecs and the very short sleeves bared most of his bulging biceps. Worst of all, his nipples stuck out prominently and a close observer could make out the ring without needing to strain their eyes.

Knowing that all he could do was hope his fellow students would not be overly observant, Nate pulled on the pair of low-rise jeans Troy had selected. It was tight enough that Nate's bulge and butt were displayed to their best advantage (or, as it were in Nate's mind, worst disadvantage) and low enough that the waistband of Nate's briefs and about an inch of bare thigh at the hips could be seen. Thankfully the t-shirt came up to just below the top of the jeans so Nate didn't think he needed to worry about the whole school learning about his underwear preferences -- folly on his part.

Finally dressed as instructed, he glanced out his window and immediately regretted it. Bobby was ogling him from his own bedroom, not even bothering to disguise his blatant lust for Nate's hot body. Nate's eyes went to the camera Bobby had gripped in his left hand and he was certain that, within the hour, photos of him getting dressed would be posted to the private website that chronicled his humiliating downfall. Averting his eyes from the younger boy's licentious gaze, Nate went downstairs for breakfast. His dad was already munching on a slice of toast while reading the newspaper and his mom was brewing fresh coffee. As soon as he was seated she set a bowl of cereal down in front of him. Nate shuddered involuntarily as he recalled how he'd been forced to jerk off into his cereal and eat it the previous morning.

"What's wrong?" asked Marsha, having observed the shudder.

"Nothing," Nate replied quickly. The last thing he needed was his mother on his case this early in the day.

Marsha, still suspicious, ran her hand over Nate's shoulder and remarked, "Goodness! Surely you have a better fitting shirt than that. You're practically bursting out of it."

Nate turned red and chose not to reply. His dad, however, was not quite as restrained. "I dare say, Marsha, that that was the intended effect." Mitchell looked with amusement at his son, who pretended not to notice, although the blush on his cheeks turned noticeably darker.

Fortunately, the coffeemaker chose that moment to complete brewing and, while Marsha busied herself with it, Nate took the opportunity to beat a hasty retreat. He swallowed his last spoonful of cereal, took a swig of orange juice from the carton in the fridge (much to his mom's disgust) and practically ran out of the house, calling a quick goodbye to his parents as he went out the front door.

"Phew!" He crumpled into the driver's seat of his car with a sigh of relief, but it was short lived. He may have escaped the scrutiny of his mom, but now he would have to face the cruelty of his masters -- who, just last week, had been his peers and even his inferiors -- at school. It was with a heavy heart that he navigated the streets of Mount Pleasant towards McKinley High, and what he felt certain was his impending doom.

He had just eased his car into its usual bay in the school parking lot when his troubles began.

"Morning, Natey." Nate nearly jumped out of his car seat in surprise. A welcoming committee, comprising mostly of junior varsity players and led by Dave Ramirez, had materialized seemingly out of thin air and now surrounded his car.

Nate stammered a greeting in reply.

"Time to check that you're following orders regarding your wardrobe," Dave stated. He lowered his gaze to Nate's crotch, leaving him in no doubt as to what he meant. Nate glanced around quickly; the semicircle of basketball players blocked him from the view of the few people in the parking lot at that time of day. He hurriedly tugged his jeans down a couple of inches with one hand and flicked his t-shirt up to his navel with the other so that his tormentors could confirm that he was, indeed, wearing the prescribed underwear. The surrounding boys were treated to a view of the smooth expanse of skin between Nate's navel and the black waistband of his briefs, and his upper thighs below it. Nate's dick and balls bulged quite obscenely in the undersized briefs, covered as they were by tight, bright pink lycra that clearly outlined the contours of his genitals.

Nate flipped his shirt back down within seconds and pulled his jeans back up, presuming that his brief display of skin and underwear would satisfy his tormentors. Needless to say, he was quite wrong.

"That's not the way we conduct our checks," Dave said with a grin.

"Pull your t-shirt over your head and secure it behind your neck," instructed Dave's younger brother, Cliff. He was clearly reveling in his ability to order a senior player about.

"And lower your jeans to your ankles," added Ryder.

Not to be outdone, Wade piped up, "And put your hands behind your head."

Nate looked from one to the other disbelievingly. Surely they didn't expect him to so thoroughly expose himself in the school parking lot. The hard, if somewhat gleeful, stares of the surrounding boys told him that was exactly what they intended to do.

Glancing around wildly, Nate did as he was told. The new metallic embellishment to his left nipple provoked a few snarky comments at his expense. And although no specific remarks were made about his beautifully sculpted, nearly naked body, it nevertheless drew its fair share of envious and even lustful looks from his small audience. It seemed to Nate like he had to hold the position for several long minutes, although it was really closer to forty seconds. Finally they let him go, dispersing -- and therefore breaking up the human barrier that had thus far protected him from prying eyes -- before he had the chance to redress. Nate nearly fell flat on his face in his haste to pull his jeans back up. He looked around and was thankful to note he hadn't caught anyone's attention. However, two girls who'd just driven into the parking lot did look on appreciatively as he hastily rolled his t-shirt back down over his abs.

Hoping that would be the end of it, but knowing instinctively that it would not, Nate made his way into the school. The hallways were abuzz with activity as students milled around, calling out greetings, getting things from their lockers, and conversing loudly with one another. Nate, being taller than average, was quickly able to spot his girlfriend in the crowd. "Melanie! Hey!"

A stunningly gorgeous girl with long, sleek, black hair looked up from her conversation with a couple of other girls. Her part-Asian heritage was easily gleaned from her features, which broke into a smile as she saw her hunky boyfriend striding towards her with barely-disguised relief.

"Hello, gorgeous. Where the hell were you all weekend? I got your text. What was it that had you so `busy' you couldn't make time for your girlfriend? Ow, what's that for?" Melanie gasped as Nate wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"I really, really missed you," he breathed into her hair, inhaling the pleasant aroma of her shampoo and feeling the silky strands against his cheek. There was something very reassuring about it. For a moment he could forget the events of the past weekend: the taste of cum, the sensations of a hard dick pounding his virgin ass, the sounds of jeering as he jerked off for an audience.

"You dolt," laughed Melanie, but she meant it affectionately. "You wouldn't have missed me quite so much if you'd returned one of my calls. Now let me go before you squeeze me to death."

Nate reluctantly broke the hug. "I'm really sorry about being out of touch all weekend. My phone --" he started to explain just as the bell for the first lesson rang.

Melanie held up a finger. "Hold that thought. I've got to get to my media studies class on time for once or Mrs. Melvin will have my head. But I'll catch up with you later, okay? And a misplaced phone is not an excuse for being unreachable for over 48 hours!" She wagged her finger disapprovingly, and for a second Nate thought she might have seen through his lie, but then she laughed. "Later, opposite the chem. lab." She winked and flounced off.

Nate's heart began to pound excitedly in his chest. The hallway opposite the chemistry lab was a well-known clandestine meeting spot for young lovers during lunch break. After a weekend serving his teammates and being forced to perform all manner of filthy, degrading sex acts, Nate saw the lunch date as the perfect opportunity to reassert his masculinity, his dominance over another person.

But even as he stood there in the hallway, lost in thought about all the positions in which he would fuck Melanie later, he felt a sharp tug on the waistband of his jeans. Before he could react, the perpetrators had managed to pull his jeans all the way down.

There was a sudden hush. The few people who were still loitering in the hallway instead of going to class stared incredulously at the sight of the hottest guy in school with his jeans around his ankles, revealing that he wore bikini briefs -- and bright pink ones at that! To make things worse for Nate, his contemplation of the upcoming encounter with Melanie had sprung him an erection. Those with a frontal view of Nate's crotch could discern the very prominent bulge in his briefs.

The silence was broken as the students around Nate, recovered from their initial surprise at witnessing the school stud and basketball star receive his first pantsing, began to laugh at him. Pantsing was common enough in high school, and Nate himself had been on the giving end on more than one occasion, but until that day none had dared to do it to him. Nate blushed furiously as he bent down to pull his jeans back up, treating everyone behind him to a view of his hot bubble butt encased in the skintight lycra. There were even a couple of catcalls and a wolf-whistle from the audience as he struggled to fasten the button on the jeans.

"Nice choice of undies, dude."

"It takes a pretty confident guy to pull off that shade of pink!"

And a less restrained girl chimed in, "Now that's what I call a bubble butt!"

Nate's cheeks were flaming red as he looked around for the perpetrators of his pantsing; they were not hard to spot. Ryder Walsh and Connor Davis, a couple of freshmen on the basketball team, had not even bothered to flee the scene -- they knew they had immunity from Nate's backlash, in the form of a certain private website. So they stood nearby, smirking widely with a smug sense of achievement. They still had another three years to make their mark on McKinley High, but for now they had recorded a first -- the first ever pantsing of the great Nate Ramsey.

Knowing he could not do anything about what had just happened, Nate decided the best thing was to make an exit with as much as dignity as he could muster ... although it was difficult with everyone still giggling over his choice of underwear. Nate was not aware of it yet, but his reputation among his peers had begun its downward slide.

The rest of the morning, until lunch break, passed without incident. Nate blocked the images of his hellish weekend from his mind and instead concentrated on his upcoming meet-up with Melanie. He was feverishly imagining taking her hard in the supply closet when the lunch bell rang, so it was hardly surprising that he needed to adjust himself before he stood up from his desk. As the other students flooded the hallways Nate began to make his way to the school block housing the various science laboratories.

He soon became aware that the people he was passing in the hallways kept looking at him and giggling. He heard a snatch of conversation: "Pink briefs, can you believe that? Hot pink! And tiny little briefs they were too, supposedly."

Nate was mortified. Only about a dozen people had been in the hallway when Ryder and Connor had pulled down his jeans, but it seemed the news that Nate Ramsey had a fondness for skimpy underwear in girly colors had spread like wildfire.

He quickened his pace and was thankful to find the next hallway nearly deserted. He knew it was unrealistic but he hoped his fellow students might have moved on to other rumors by the time lunch break was over. By the time he arrived outside the chemistry lab, his erection had subsided. Melanie wasn't there yet, so Nate tried the door to the supply closet. The janitor had given up on repairing the lock after several bouts of vandalism, and now the door opened easily. Nate peered into the darkness, wondering how far Melanie would let him go with her in there.

All of a sudden, a pair of hands grabbed Nate's butt and Nate's heart nearly stopped at the unpleasant reminder of the gang-rape he'd suffered at his teammates' hands.

"Mel?" Nate turned around and was relieved to see it was indeed her.

"Now, where did we leave off?" she smiled mischievously. Nate pressed his lips to hers and pulled her into the closet without breaking their lip lock. Melanie used her foot to push the door shut behind them.

"So let me see it," she said suddenly as Nate kissed her neck. He stopped, bewildered.

"See what?"

"The pink briefs the whole school's talking about. I thought you hated bikini briefs ... you weren't too fond of the pair I bought you."

Nate was at a loss for words. "I -- I -- did like them. That's why I went out and bought a couple more." Having lied his way out of that predicament successfully, Nate found his old confidence returning. "You can see that later, but first ..." He slipped his hand under Melanie's top as he resumed kissing her. Melanie was soon lost in the hormone-induced haze and was sticking her own hand down Nate's jeans, massaging the growing bulge in the now-infamous bikini briefs.

"Beep-beep!" The notification of an incoming text message pierced through the couple's panting and moaning. "Ignore it," mumbled Nate into Melanie's breasts as his hands worked feverishly to unbutton her top. She was more than happy to, her hands pulling Nate's t-shirt up from behind and feeling the powerful muscles of his back.

"Beep-beep!" The phone sounded again.

"Maybe you should see what that is," said Melanie.

Nate groaned. He reached into his jeans and pulled out his cell phone. Two Messages Received' read the display. He selected View', intending to skim through the messages quickly before he got back to Melanie and reasserting his heterosexuality. But when he saw that the two messages were from `Monty' -- as he had contemptuously named Owen in his address book -- his blood ran cold.

He read the first message: `You can either come out of the closet with your girlfriend, or come out to her. Your call.'

"Is everything okay?" asked Melanie. Even in the darkness she could Nate's face drain of color. He ignored her, selecting the second message instead. It was even shorter, and to the point: `U've got 15 secs.'

Nate didn't know how long ago the message had been sent. In a moment of overwhelming terror, he imagined Owen's finger hovering over the `Send' button on a mass picture message of Nate getting double-fucked.

"I've got to go. Sorry!" Nate blurted out hastily before lunging for the door knob, oblivious to the fact that both Melanie and he were half-dressed.

Melanie squealed in protest, automatically raising her hands to cover her breast even though the corridor outside was revealed to be deserted. "Nate! What's the --"

But Nate had already stumbled out of the storage closet like a bat out of hell. He didn't stop running until he rounded a corner and almost ran straight into Owen.

"Well if it isn't our closet case," drawled Owen.

"You didn't ...?" Nate panted.

Owen shook his head slowly. "You were lucky this time."

Nate's blind panic was replaced with fury. He grabbed Owen by the front of his t-shirt and raged, "Why the fuck did you do that, you asshole?"

"Hands off, Nathaniel," Owen responded calmly. "And mind your language. I still hold all the cards and it'd be in your best interest to remember that."

Nate let him go. Owen made a big show of dusting off his t-shirt as he explained, "I think it should be obvious to you by now. I don't want you to be alone in a room with my girl, ever again."

"Your girl?" Nate repeated. "Melanie isn't `your girl' anymore," he spat. "In case you forgot, she dumped you for me."

Immediately he regretted his outburst. Faster than he could blink, Owen had him slammed up against the wall. Their faces were so close that Nate could clearly see Owen's gray eyes burn with a rage that seemed nothing short of psychotic to him. His doubts about Owen's sanity were beginning to increase.

"You don't fuck around with my girl anymore," Owen hissed, "unless you want to kiss your oh-so-macho public image goodbye. You got that? Once Mel and all the other girls see the pics we've got of you, they wouldn't want to touch your sorry, gang-fucked ass with a ten-foot pole. So start thinking of excuses to give Mel as to why you can't be with her. It'll be easier to explain than why you're getting gang-banged by a whole bunch of guys -- and enjoying it."

Owen released his hold on Nate and walked off down the deserted corridor. Nate slumped against the wall, his heart thumping in his chest. He could feel the prickle of tears in his eyes and was disgusted by his own weakness. But at the same time he couldn't avoid it; he knew Owen was right, although he failed to recognize the extent to which his own prejudices had contributed to his downfall. He could come up with an excuse for his inability to spend time with Melanie -- but he couldn't think of how to explain away the incriminating stash of photos and videos.

His only recourse would be the truth: that he'd been raped. But, in his mind, being known as a male rape victim was another, severe blow to his masculine pride. Sure, chicks got raped all the time, but not men -- at least not men worth their salt. And then his mind flashed to a memory he was desperately trying to bury, a memory that inspired such terrifying self-doubt and loathing that it was preferable he not think about it, rather than try to make sense of it ... the hard-on he'd had while giving his first blowjob, and how he'd stayed hard the entire time during his gang-bang. He didn't have an excuse; only a way to fall further from the macho image everyone had of him thus far.

As if to confirm his fears, his reverie was interrupted as he mounted the stairs at the end of lunch break when, for the second time that day, anonymous fingers reached into the waistband of his jeans and yanked them violently downwards. Unable to maintain his balance as his feet got caught in the denim pooled around his ankles, Nate fell, face first, on the landing. He was able to break his fall, but unable to prevent the onlookers from getting a good, long look at his pink lycra-covered butt.

"Holy shit, they weren't kidding!" announced Gray Donovan, a varsity footballer who hadn't believed the rumor spreading across campus and decided to check it out for himself. The mere idea of Nate Ramsey wearing hot pink bikini briefs had seemed too ridiculous to be true -- but the evidence was right there in front of him.

"Tighty whities, maybe, but these ..." Leo Somerfield, Gray's teammate and assistant in Nate's second pantsing, shook his head, at a loss for words. "Wait till the other guys on the team hear about this!" McKinley High's football team, the Falcons, were on poor terms with the Marlins, both teams being in competition to make their sport the one McKinley was best known for. The Marlins' star player being embarrassed so publicly by two of the Falcons would count as one point towards the football team. In particular, the Falcons' captain, Justin van Hansen III -- Tripp to his buddies -- would enjoy the news of his `frenemy' Nate's pantsing.

Nate struggled to his feet and pulled his jeans back up as quickly as he could, but the damage had been done. The sounds of laughter rang loud and clear in the stairwell as the crowd of students returning from their lunches received visual confirmation of Nate's underwear preferences. A couple of quick-witted students had even managed to whip out their camera phones and snap shots of the hapless stud flat on his face with his pants around his ankles. By the day's end not a single person in McKinley High -- even some of the teachers -- would fail to know the news: hot macho stud Nate Ramsey wore bright pink bikini briefs.

Nate fled the scene of his pantsing without seeking retribution on Gray and Leo. He knew it would not be long before the story got back to Tripp van Hansen and he worried about the ideas the incident might plant in the football captain's mind. There was little Nate could do besides be on his guard in the future; he knew he had gotten off lightly that day because Troy had allowed him to wear bikini briefs as opposed to a jockstrap or thong. He doubted he would be quite so lucky every day.

Nate managed to get through the rest of the school day without falling victim to any further pranks. The whispers and giggles, however, seemed to follow him everywhere. He sent off an apologetic text to Melanie with a vague excuse and a promise to make it up to her very soon. He honestly didn't know when he would be able to keep his promise, if ever.

He was so caught up in trying to pay attention to his lessons and simultaneously keeping an eye out for pranksters looking for another opportunity to humiliate him that he completely forgot he had basketball practice after school until Wes reminded him at the end of the day.

"Don't worry about dashing home for your five o'clock session," Wes said in a low voice so as to be not overheard, "Drew spoke with Bobby and he's agreed to postpone it by half an hour. You can come by my house for your duties after that, say six o'clock. I'll text you the address."

"But --" Nate began to protest but Wes had gone. Nate packed up his books in a foul mood and made his way to the indoor basketball court. As he entered the locker room to change into his uniform, he couldn't ignore how far he'd come since his last time there. He'd been cock of the walk, arrogantly proclaiming his many victories on the court and in the bedroom to anyone who would listen. Any teammates who dared to disagree with Nate would find themselves on the receiving end of snide remarks intended to make them feel inadequate. Today he was the one feeling inadequate and boy did his teammates take the opportunity to rub it in.

"Hey, look guys! It's the team slave," Dave Ramirez announced as he spied Nate trying -- and failing -- to make a discreet entrance.

"Yo, bitch, what're you waiting for?" asked Lucas. "Strip down! And none of that sissy changing-under-a-towel stuff you normally do either." This last order was greeted by several cheers.

Nate reluctantly began to undress. Having everyone's eyes on him made him feel even more exposed. He didn't even notice that he was far from the only naked guy in the room. Much of that had to do with the snarky, and often outright crude, remarks made about him and his perfect body.

"Wait a minute, you still haven't unveiled your tattoo," Parker noted.

"Yeah, let's see your slave brand," said Drew.

"I was going for `tramp stamp' myself," Owen interjected, provoking more laughter.

Nate blushed as he carefully peeled off the bandage on his lower back. He had previously seen a computer rendition of what his tattoo would look like (produced by Drew, of course) and had a reasonable idea of what to expect. But hearing the tattoo referred to as a "tramp stamp" really drove home the unpleasant idea of being little more than a sex slave for his teammates.

"Nice," proclaimed Dave as the guys crowded around to survey the tattoo on Nate's lower back.

"Property of the Marlins forevermore," declared Ethan, snapping a close-up of the tattoo with his cell phone.

"I think we should see it to full effect, don't you?" suggested Troy. To Nate he said, "Take the rest of your clothes off!"

Nate complied and was soon standing in the midst of his peers, completely naked. The tattoo really stood out against the smooth, tanned skin and accentuated the strong curves of his back and bubble butt. There were several more clicks as further photos were taken.

"Coach is coming!" hissed one of the freshmen suddenly. Those with their cell phones out hastened to put them away and those who were still undressed hurried to get into their uniforms. Nate reached for his but found himself barred from putting on any clothes by Owen. "Not you, Nathaniel. You can stay naked until Coach leaves again. No covering up either."

Nate had no choice but to obey. He was cringing inwardly but did his best to hide it as Paul Reilly entered the locker room to deliver his usual pep talk ahead of the day's practice. He was startled to find all his players dressed or at least partly dressed except for Nate, who was usually the most reticent about nudity. He was even more stunned when Nate, true to his orders, made no attempt to hide his full frontal nudity. Paul's eyes flicked briefly over Nate's well-muscled physique, noting with astonishment the nipple ring and apparent lack of pubic hair. Nate knew what his coach must be thinking and wanted to sink into the ground.

Paul swallowed twice, trying not to stare too much at his stark-naked star player. "Er-hem. Ramsey, do you want to put some clothes on?"

"It's okay, coach. I'll wait till you're done," Nate replied.

"Um ... all right then. Boys, as I'm sure you're all well aware, we have a very big game coming up next Friday. The state championship semifinals; Marlins versus Panthers." There was a murmur of derision from the players directed towards their long-time rivals."

"Now we've never lost to the Panthers before," Paul Reilly continued, "and we sure as hell aren't about to start now. So what do you say, team?"

There was a roar of support from his assembled players, with an obvious exception. Nate only managed a half-hearted cheer. His mind was otherwise occupied.

"Alright then, let's play ball! Courtside, in five!" The coach left and the players finished dressing. Nate was finally allowed to put on his uniform, with one notable difference: under his shorts he wore a white jockstrap instead of his usual boxer-briefs. He followed his teammates as they streamed out onto the court, instead of leading them as he so often did. It might have been subtle but its significance was not lost on Owen or Troy -- Nate was beginning to see himself at the bottom, rather than at the top, of the social hierarchy.

His new outlook was also evident in his performance on the court. Nate was typically an aggressive player, actively seeking personal glory by being the one to shoot the ball into the opponent's net. Despite the bruising his pride had taken in the last couple of days, Nate still hoped to prove himself in what had long been his forte, basketball. However, recognizing his pursuit of personal glory as a reason for his teammates' recently-revealed hatred of him, Nate decided that letting others have the winning shots might alleviate their proclivity for punishing him. It wasn't hard to take on a more passive role in the game, being in low spirits as he was. Unfortunately for Nate, most of his teammates merely saw his new strategy as a further sign that he wasn't really all that great. Others thought he was purposely playing badly to get back at them and that fueled rather than abated their rage.

Coach Reilly watched the action on the court perplexedly. He could tell that Nate was playing below his capability. In contrast, the rest of the team seemed to play with renewed confidence. He could understand the attitude of the rest of the team; the looming threat of being the first Marlins team to lose to the Panthers probably made them determined to win at all costs. Nate's underperformance, on the other hand, didn't make as much sense. If he didn't know any better Paul might have considered bullying as a possible reason for Nate's reduced performance. But alas, his knowledge of Nate's typical arrogance didn't even allow such thoughts to settle in Paul's mind. The disjoint between Nate and his teammates had always bothered Paul. He didn't deny that Nate was extremely skilled, which was why he had a piece of news to impart to him after practice, but he did wish Nate was more of a team player. Perhaps this new playing strategy was an attempt by Nate to improve his standing among his teammates, God knows the boy could use it! Paul decided to keep a close eye on Nate in subsequent practices; it was entirely possible that this was simply a one-off and Paul would later learn that Nate's underperformance was due to something truly inane.

"Okay, that's enough. Hit the showers. Not you, Ramsey. I need to discuss something with you."

The other guys sloped off to the locker room, some of them casting curious glances towards Nate as he stayed behind to talk to the coach. Nate wondered what the coach had to say to him -- surely he hadn't noticed something in the practice just now that had led him to suspect the truth?

"Right, Ramsey. I asked to talk to you separately because the yearbook editors have asked me to choose one player to represent the team in some special photo spread they're having ... Athletes in Their Element or some such rubbish. From what I understand, they're having photos and write-ups about the achievements of all the sports teams in the school and then an in-depth section about one `star' player from each team. Given your scoring record over the last couple of years I went with you as our team's rep."

Nate couldn't believe his ears. After all the torment he'd suffered in the last few days, doubting his talent, his likeability and his very identity, this acknowledgement of his basketball skill was music to his ears. "Wow, Coach, I -- I don't know what to --"

"I know some of the other boys will be jealous but I think you've earned it. If you're smart though, you won't make too big a deal of it to the guys ..." Paul suggested with only the slightest emphasis on the last sentence.

The coach's meaning was not lost on Nate. "I'm really grateful that you thought I was the right person to represent the team, Coach."

"Hmph," snorted Paul, finding this humble version of Nate a little hard to digest. "Alright, if you'll come with me into my office, I've got a letter permitting you to miss an hour of lessons on Thursday to take part in the photoshoot. Bring your basketball uniform; I don't know the details of the shoot but I'm assuming that's what Athletes in Their Element means."

Nate followed Paul into the coach's office, unable to stop a wide grin from spreading across his face. If only he'd known then what he would learn later, he'd probably have begged the coach to consider someone else to represent the Marlins in his stead.

& & & & &

Nate managed to make it home by five-thirty. Fortunately most of his teammates had been in a hurry to leave after practice so he had fewer tormentors to contend with in the post-practice showers. Owen led the remaining players in whipping Nate's ass with rolled-up towels but eventually the fun wore off and everyone got dressed and went their separate ways, leaving Nate with a very red ass. His clothes were tossed into the empty gymnasium and he was forced to dress outside the security of the locker room, but since it was past five o'clock there was no one there to catch him naked and he managed to escape with his dignity (or at least what remained of it) intact.

Upon reaching home, he rushed upstairs to his bedroom, stripped naked and climbed on top of his desk. As he'd expected, Bobby Rawlins was already set up with his camera in the window facing him. Upon seeing his hunky neighbor appear in frame Bobby gave him a cheerful thumbs up. Nate didn't feel like returning the gesture. Instead he squeezed a generous dollop of lotion onto his dick and started stroking it to firmness. He had hoped that picturing what he would have done with Melanie, had he been given the chance to continue their closet romp, would have been sufficient to jerk off to a climax, but images of his subsequent humiliations intruded upon his thoughts and had his dick in danger of deflating. So once more he was reduced to fingering his ass until he came, spraying his load over the window pane. Wearily he licked the cum off the glass, barely flinching as he did so.

Checking his watch he found that it was 5:43. Without a second glance at Bobby, Nate pulled his clothes back on and went downstairs to the kitchen, where he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket (the sight of the banana brought back unpleasant memories of how his downfall had begun) and scribbled off a note to his mother, asking her to keep dinner for him because he had "an assignment to work on at a friend's house" and would therefore be home late. He checked his phone for messages and found that Wes had, as promised, texted him his home address. There was no reply to the text he'd sent Melanie, and Nate suspected she was sulking about the way he'd run out on her that morning. There was nothing he could do about that right then so he got into his car and drove to the address in the text message.

Nate had never been to Wes's home -- or indeed the homes of any of his other teammates -- but with the help of the Sat Nav in his car he was able to find the place just as his car clock read 6:02. It was only upon setting eyes on the rather rundown apartment building, in a part of town that was a far cry from Nate's own neighborhood, that he realized Wes might be something less than financially well-off.

After ensuring his car was properly locked, Nate made his way up the stairs to the fourth floor (the building had no elevator). He located Apartment 4c easily enough, and Wes opened the door almost as soon as he knocked on it. "Not bad," he said with a grin, "you're right on time. Didn't have trouble finding the place then?"

Nate shook his head and explained tersely, "Sat Nav." He didn't feel like making small talk with one of his chief tormentors, however jovial he might try to be.

Slightly put out by Nate's chilly response, but knowing he should have anticipated it, Wes ordered him to strip and place his clothes on the floor just inside the door.

Nate's eyes bugged out. The front door was still open and the street, four floors below, was busy. Glancing around nervously, he undressed slowly until he realized that the faster he got naked, the less attention he was likely to draw from the street. Discarding his last article of clothing (the bikini briefs), he waited anxiously, hands over his crotch, to be allowed into the apartment.

Wes took a moment to survey the exquisite body revealed in front of him. He could barely restrain himself from touching the chiseled chest or grabbing a handful of the smooth, firm buttocks. "Alright, you can come in." He shut the door behind a thankful Nate.

"So," he continued, "I don't want to keep you too long; I know you've had a full day so far and so have I. It's my mom's birthday and I wanted to surprise her with a thoroughly clean apartment for once -- which is where you come in. Between the two of us, we can probably get this place cleaned up in half the time, and well before Mom gets back home."

At the mention of Wes's mother, Nate started. "Hold on, your folks aren't going to walk in on us, are they?" Six o'clock was the time his own parents usually got in from work.

Wes looked quizzically at Nate. "You really don't know anything about your teammates beyond their level of basketball skill, do you?"

"N-no," Nate stammered as he attempted to defend himself. "I know you've got an elder brother. He used to play for the Marlins before we both started at McKinley."

"Yes, Griff did play for the Marlins," Wes conceded. "But that truly is the extent of your knowledge, isn't it? And if Griff hadn't played ball you wouldn't even know that, would you?"

Nate looked down. He'd never seen the point in enquiring about the personal lives of his teammates. It occurred to him that he might have made more friends in the team if he'd given a damn.

Wes sighed. "Let me fill you in, then. My dad left my mom and brother and I when I was still in junior high." Now that Wes mentioned it, Nate did vaguely remember hearing about that -- and not caring. "He lives in Florida with his second wife and a couple of kids he's never bothered to introduce to Griff or me. Mom's had a hard time getting child support out of him, which is why she has to work late shifts at the hospital and won't be back till much later."

Nate shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Oh. I -- I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Well, I suppose better late than never." Seeing a genuinely apologetic expression on Nate's face, Wes softened. It helped that Nate looked extremely appealing naked and vulnerable. "I don't suppose you know anything about flower arrangements?"

Nate looked blank. Wes grinned, "I didn't think you did. I guess I'll just have to do my best with the roses I bought on the way home. You do know how to use the hoover though, right?" He sighed as the expression on Nate's face didn't change. "It's okay, I can show you."

Over the next two hours, Nate -- who, as previously established, had never done any housework in his life before the previous day -- found himself tasked with a variety of household chores, many of which were new to him. Fortunately, Wes was a good teacher, and the small size of the Stanfords' apartment came in handy. Besides the lounge-cum-kitchenette, there were only two bedrooms and a single bathroom. Wes took care of the bathroom and kitchenette ("It's probably best you don't handle chemicals when there's a LOT of bare skin they could irritate") and gave Nate tips for the other rooms while he himself prepared dinner. Nate was interested to see Wes's bedroom -- it was half the size of Nate's own room but housed two single beds. The sparse furnishings in both halves of the room were similar but there were a few personal touches that belied the Stanford brothers' different tastes, except when it came to their mutual love of basketball.

"I've got the room to myself now that Griff's away in Chicago. He got a scholarship to study at Northwestern," Wes said, his voice touched with pride in his elder brother's achievement. "He'll be back for good this summer though, which means I'll have to go back to sharing the room, not that I mind. It'll be great to have him home."

Nate just gave a puzzled smile. An only child himself, he'd always thought siblings were more trouble than they were worth. He'd been secretly relieved to learn his mom was unlikely to have any more children, although he'd been careful not to let his feelings show to his parents. He did however wonder, from time to time, what it would have been like to have a brother or sister. Now was one of those times.

By eight o'clock the two boys had managed to get the job done. Wes surveyed the main room with satisfaction. The dining table had been set for two and the vase of flowers stood in the middle. "Not a bad job if I do say so myself." Nate had to agree. He was amazed at how much the two of them had managed to get done in just two hours.

Looking down at himself and Nate, Wes noticed for the first time how sweaty they both were. Nate's naked body, which positively glistened with a fine sheen of perspiration, was also marked by gray streaks where he'd absentmindedly wiped his dusty hands. "I think we could both do with a shower," Wes remarked. "But first, let's get your other duties out of the way, alright?"

Nate's face fell. The almost-friendly bond he'd built up with Wes over the last two hours had all but convinced him that Wes would opt not to demand anything sexual of him that night. "C'mon, man -- I've done everything you've asked me to!"

"Yes, and you've done it well," Wes replied patiently. "So let's not ruin everything when we're this close to calling it a perfect night. Don't look at me like that. You knew this was coming, Nate."

Nate miserably followed Wes into his bedroom.

"So I'll give you the choice: blowjob or fuck first?"

Nate was unable to contain himself any longer. He exploded, "This isn't fair! What have I ever done to you?"

Wes arched his eyebrows. "Do you really want me to make a list? I know what you did to Jessie." He saw Nate wince and went on. "Did you check your computer, hoping to do some counter-blackmail with those photos you took without her knowledge -- photos you couldn't find because we'd deleted them off your hard drive?" Nate's guilty look was all he needed to know that was exactly what Nate had tried.

"Are you really surprised no one cares about you, Nate, when you've never cared about them? You didn't know a thing about my life outside of basketball, and we've been in the same schools all of our lives. Jason, too. Yet you do that to his kid sister without a second thought. You treat the rest of the team you're supposed to be a part of like shit, and you wonder why no one rushes to your aid. And don't think I don't know about your attempts at getting the team to mutiny against me."

Nate, who'd been listening to the list of his misdeeds with his head bowed, suddenly jerked up. "Wait, what?"

"Oh, yeah, I know about that too. You didn't really think it would never get back to me, did you?"

"No, Wes, I never tried to -- to raise a mutiny or anything like that --"

"Aaand that's another thing: lying. You don't seem to stop. Even after you're caught out in a lie --"

"But I'm not lying, Wes! Not this time --"

Wes shook his head. "You're pathological, you know that?"

"Wes, you've got to believe me, man. It's the truth, I swear!"

Wes had heard enough. Glancing around, he spotted Nate's neat pile of clothes, which he'd moved to his bed in order to clear the floor. As Nate opened his mouth to continue arguing, Wes stuffed his bikini briefs into his mouth.

"Don't spit that out, or it'll be the worse for you," he warned as Nate attempted to expel the wadded-up underwear. "I'm sick of listening to you lie. For once it seemed like you were learning. Evidently that wasn't the case. Since you've forfeited the right to choose, I'll do it for you."

He turned Nate around and gave him a light push in the small of the back, propelling him onto the bed. After stripping naked himself, Wes retrieved a condom and a bottle of lubricant from his drawer. "You don't really deserve it after this latest bout of lying but I'm going to open you up first anyway." He squeezed a generous amount of lube onto Nate's asshole and worked one finger at a time into the warm, moist orifice. His annoyance began to dissipate as he reveled in the beautiful body and tight hole at his disposal.

"Alright, brace yourself," he told Nate after he'd squeezed three fingers past Nate's sphincter. He removed the fingers and replaced them with the head of his dick and pushed all the way in. Nate let out a grunt that was muffled by the underwear gagging him.

Wes began to fuck in earnest. As his dick hit Nate's prostate with increasing frequency, the stud's own dick grew ever harder, much to his shame. As for Wes, he could barely keep his hands off Nate's broad, muscular back. Lost in the euphoria of the fuck he was betraying his own attraction to his enslaved teammate. If anyone else had been in the room it would have been patently obvious to them. Nate himself, however, had retreated into the far recess of his mind where he could ignore his degradation. It did cross his mind that Wes was being more touchy-feely than strictly necessary, but the idea that there might be yet another fag among the Marlins was one Nate found difficult to entertain.

After what seemed like an eternity to Nate -- but was really only about ten minutes -- Wes shot his load and pulled out of Nate. "Okay, roll onto your back and open your mouth. No talking though." Nate obeyed, and Wes gingerly removed the saliva-soaked underwear and squeezed the contents of his condom into Nate's open mouth. Nate automatically swallowed.

Looking at Nate's face always made Wes feel guilty, and this time was no exception. He couldn't quite meet the stud's suspiciously wet blue eyes. "Alright, let's hit the shower. I think we should both fit. And you can give me that blowjob you still owe me."

Nate followed silently. He was trying to figure out why Wes believed he had tried to rally their teammates to mutiny against Wes's leadership. He had a suspicion that either Owen or Troy was involved. What he didn't know was whether it would make any difference to his slave status if Wes knew that Nate was, for once, innocent of the crime he stood accused of. Besides, everyone seemed to hate him; would any of them therefore be willing to help him out? Maybe Devlin ... but everyone knew the kid had a crush on him and his testimony might not be worth much. Nate was going to have to think about it.

It was a tight squeeze but both Wes and Nate were able to fit into the shower stall. Nate, who desperately shied away from such close bodily contact with other males, was clearly uncomfortable. However, he had no say in the showering arrangement so, as the showerhead sprayed warm water onto them, Nate sucked Wes off. Despite having ejaculated once just minutes before, Wes managed to produce another load of cum that Nate struggled to swallow due to its sheer volume. It had long been a secret fantasy of Wes's to have his hunky teammate give him a blowjob under the shower so the big load was hardly surprising.

After that, the two boys soaped themselves up, with Nate taking care to avoid contact with Wes as much as possible, although he noticed Wes had no such hang-ups and, indeed, seemed to occasionally go out of his way to make sure their bodies touched.

"You missed a spot," murmured Wes, rubbing his soapy palm across the back of Nate's shoulder and making him jump, much to Wes's amusement. "Boy, if that's the reaction I get for touching your shoulder, I wonder what'll happen when I do this." He reached further down and spread Nate's asscheeks so that the shower spray thudded directly onto his tender hole. The sensation was pleasantly warm and, to Nate's horror, he felt his dick growing.

"Interesting," Wes commented. "Looks like I'm not the only one who enjoys shower sex." He inserted a soapy finger into Nate's hole, eliciting a groan from the helpless stud. He began to finger-fuck him, plunging two fingers in and out of the tight hole. Nate's dick, already sensitive from the earlier fuck, was achingly hard, so when Wes whispered in his ear, "You can jerk yourself off if you want," Nate didn't hesitate. In a matter of minutes, he was blowing his load over the glass door.

"I should probably order you to lick that up but I think you've earned a rest." Wes splashed water on the cum and it was immediately washed away. "Come on, we'd better get dried and dressed. I've kept you too long as it is. You can use my towel once I'm done with it; it's supposed to go in the wash after this anyway."

The two boys traipsed naked back to Wes's room, where Wes rummaged in his wardrobe for fresh clothes while Nate looked unhappily at his saliva-soaked briefs. "You don't want to wear that," advised Wes, looking around for a moment. "Just stuff it in your jeans pocket and go commando for the evening." Seeing no alternative, Nate followed Wes's advise. It felt strange, but not uncomfortable, to have his dick against denim. Wes, meanwhile, had put on a pair of black jeans and was in the midst of buttoning up a dress shirt when they heard the sound of someone unlocking the front door.

The boys' eyes met. "Shit! That must be my mom. I didn't expect her back for another hour," whispered Wes. He finished buttoning the last two buttons on his shirt and dashed out into the lounge, Nate on his heels.

Hope Griffin was just shutting the front door behind her and staring in surprise at the dining table. She was in her late forties, with the same blond hair as her younger son although hers lacked the glow his still had. She would have been quite beautiful if she didn't look so weary.

"Happy birthday, Mom," said Wes and went up to hug her. Hope's face broke into a wide smile that instantly made her look less haggard.

"Thanks, honey. Did you really do this all -- oh, you've got a friend over."

"Mom, this is Nate. Nate, my mom."

Nate shook Hope's hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Stanford."

"It's actually back to Miss Griffin now, but you don't need to call me that. Hope will do. I do believe I've seen you at Wes's games."

Wes replied for Nate. "Yes, Nate plays for the Marlins as well. And no, I didn't do all this by myself. I took Nate up on his offer to help. He's quite handy with the hoover." Nate blinked in surprise at Wes painting such a nice picture of him to Hope.

"Well, that was very kind of you, Nate," Hope said. "Wes is extremely helpful around the house but I do feel he takes too much upon himself at times. So thank you."

"Yes, thanks, Nate," echoed Wes with what appeared to be a genuine smile.

Nate was a bit flummoxed but managed to stammer out a "No problem". Then he added, "I actually have to go but, um, it was nice meeting you, Mrs. -- I mean Hope. And happy birthday to you as well."

"Why, thank you, Nate. Wes, are you going to walk him down --"

"No, it's okay. I know the way. I should leave you two to your dinner."

Wes held the door open for Nate. "Thanks again for your help and goodnight. I'll see you at school."

Nate's stomach sank at the mention of school. He'd been so relieved that Monday was nearly over that it had almost slipped his mind that he still had to face another four days of terror in school that week alone. And with the next day being Troy's day, Nate suspected the terror was about to reach all-new highs.

& & & & &

Miraculously, Nate managed to foil another attempt to pants him on Tuesday. It was all the more fortunate because Troy had ordered him to wear a gray jockstrap under his jeans so a successful pantsing would have meant him baring his mostly-naked buns to his peers at McKinley High.

His luck ran out at lunch when Troy and Ethan came up to him. Nate was sitting by himself in a far corner of the cafeteria, in an attempt to avoid Melanie, who was still not returning his calls.

"Ethan's decided to call in his blowjob," Troy explained. "I told him you have an extremely busy schedule after school so you'll blow him now."

"Now?! Christ, we're in school," Nate protested.

"Yeah, so? It's not like there aren't places to do it, as I'm sure you're well aware."

"Besides, I'm not scared of getting caught, so why should you be?" asked Ethan. Nate forbore from pointing out that he was not going to be the one with his lips wrapped around another guy's dick.

Nate was instructed to go to the rarely-frequented male restroom on the third floor of the Social Sciences block, enter the furthest cubicle and strip completely naked. Ethan would come along shortly for his blowjob.

Needless to say it was a very nervous Nate who slipped into the specified cubicle and undressed. He shivered as he waited for Ethan to show up. After delaying just long enough for Nate to break into a sweat, Ethan joined him in the cubicle. Wordlessly he fished his dick out of his pants in front of the kneeling Nate. Nate didn't waste any time in wrapping his lips around it, much to Ethan's delight. Nate was aware that he seemed overly enthusiastic about sucking dick but the risk of getting caught, which increased with every extra second he spent on his knees, greatly outweighed any embarrassment he might feel at being an eager cocksucker.

He hoped to bring Ethan off in his mouth and thus avoid having cum all over his face, but his tormentors had other plans. Just as Ethan was getting ready to shoot, the cubicle door (which had merely been shut and not latched) swung open. Nate nearly went into cardiac arrest and spit Ethan's dick out, resulting in his face getting a coating of cum. Ethan, however, did not seem the least bit perturbed. He burst into laughter at the look of sheer terror on Nate's cum-spattered face and the reason for his mirth was soon clear as Troy stepped into view. The two of them had arranged the scenario.

"Did you see his face? Priceless!" Ethan crowed as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and put away his dick.

"And you've got it all on film, right?" Troy grinned down at the naked slave.

"Yeah, our school stud sucking an anonymous dick and getting a faceful of cum. Just give me a minute to film the slut cleaning up the mess he's made." Ethan indicated Nate should mop up the semen that dotted his face and chest with his fingers and then lick them clean.

Ethan only stopped recording on his camera phone once Nate had consumed most of the cum. Troy was looking closely at Nate's bare chest and once Ethan stopped recording, he reached down to feel the skin where Nate had previously had his patch of chest hair.

"Hmm, I think you're getting stubble." Nate had noticed; it itched like hell. But he hadn't said anything in the (foolish) hope that his tormentors might let him grow out his body hair. No such luck. "I'll ask Bobby to take care of it this afternoon. Oh, and I did some digging and found out Spencer finishes his lifeguard shift at seven. If you play your cards right, you can have him alone in the parking lot to plant a wet sloppy one on him."

With that parting shot, Troy and Ethan exited the restroom, chuckling over the predicament Nate would find himself in just a matter of hours. Meanwhile, the slave in question wasted no time in pulling on his jock and jeans, pausing only as he was about to slip his t-shirt over his head. He took a couple of deep sniffs; he was certain that he reeked of cum and there were probably splotches he'd missed. He couldn't possibly go back to class like that. He peeked around the cubicle's open door to make sure the coast was clear. Then, still shirtless, he tiptoed over to the row of basins.

He had just splashed water on his face when the restroom door opened suddenly. The newcomer paused, taking in the sight of the shirtless stud, with his jeans hanging low on his hips and exposing the waistband of the gray jockstrap.

"Well, well, well. What have we here? You seem to be getting a taste for taking your clothes off in public."

"Tripp," stammered Nate. The powerfully-built, dark-haired football captain approached Nate with a smirk on his handsome features as Nate struggled to dress fully. Naturally, in his hurry, Nate managed to get the shirt in a tangle and took more time than he might have, allowing Tripp the opportunity to appraise his sculpted body. He noted the nipple ring, the tattoo on the lower back and, when Nate raised his arms to pull the t-shirt over his head, the shaven armpits.

The smirk on Tripp's face widened. "What's with the full body shave, dude? You pussying out on me or what?"

"N-no. I was just -- I'm trying to get into competitive swimming. Shaving's supposed to, um, reduce my drag in the water."

"Uh-huh," replied Tripp disbelievingly, "I suppose the nipple ring `reduces drag' as well?"

Nate couldn't prevent the color from rising to his cheeks. "T-that was Melanie's suggestion." Emboldened by the lie he added, "She likes to play with it when we're fucking."

Tripp didn't look impressed or convinced. He walked over to the urinals and continued talking over his shoulder to Nate as he pissed. "I suppose the jock is her suggestion too? I'd always had you pegged as a boxers kind of guy."

Nate was growing tired of this sarcastic line of questioning. He could tell that Tripp wasn't about to believe him no matter what he said. "Fuck off, man. Just because you don't have the balls to wear anything other than boxers doesn't mean the rest of us don't either."

"Ooh, touchy," mocked Tripp. "I only mentioned it because I'd hate to see you give everyone the full moon if you get pantsed again while wearing that." His tone, however, suggested quite the opposite. He shook his dick dry and tucked it back into his pants.

Returning to where Nate was standing awkwardly, Tripp washed his hands under a faucet while giving the beleaguered stud a sideways look. "I'll let you get back to what you were doing. Clearly you weren't finished. Oh, and I'd work on that aim if I were you." He swaggered out of the restroom, still smirking widely.

Puzzled, Nate took a look at his reflection in the mirror. At first he couldn't spot anything amiss ... and then he saw the droplets of cum in his hair. For one wild moment, Nate thought his life was over -- Tripp knew he was a cocksucker. Then he forced himself to think logically: Tripp probably thought Nate had been jerking off in the stalls. It was embarrassing, but not as terrifying as the alternative. Breathing a little easier, Nate cleaned himself up properly and exited the restroom just as the bell to signal the end of break rang. For the rest of the day he was on his guard in case Tripp arranged another pantsing. It was no comfort to him when Tripp didn't try something; it just meant he was saving it for another day, when Nate's guard might be down.

Nate got home from school at 3:20. He had received texted instructions to work on his tan in his backyard until Bobby Rawlins came over to ensure his body remained smooth. Wearily, Nate stripped -- nudity was beginning to feel like a natural state to him -- and went into his yard. Bobby wasn't at his window and Nate presumed the little brat wasn't home from school yet. However, being certain that Bobby would waste no time in alerting Troy if he didn't find Nate sunning himself in the yard when he did come home, Nate didn't dare to put off obeying the orders he'd been given. It was some relief that at least it would be his own hands, and not Bobby's lecherous paws, rubbing sunscreen into his bare skin.

The sun's warmth made Nate drowsy and he didn't hear Bobby enter the yard until a pair of hands surreptitiously parted his butt cheeks. Nate quickly rolled onto his back to face his molester. Bobby grinned back at him.

"Just checking you got sunscreen in all the cracks and crevices." He lightly smacked Nate's ripped abs. "Alright, you can head in now to wash off that sunscreen and then we'll get down to shaving you."

"We?" Nate echoed. As if to answer his question, Devlin O'Rourke walked in through the gate from the front garden. The blond freshman's eyes lit up at the sight of the naked and tanned stud.

"Hi, Nate," he quipped cheerfully. "Troy's busy with ... something, so he asked me to fill in for him." Glancing bashfully at Bobby, he quickly added, "Not that Bobby wouldn't have it all under control."

Bobby grinned at him and Nate watched the two younger boys through narrowed eyes. Becoming aware that Nate was observing them, Bobby gruffly ordered him inside for his shower. The whole thing was of course filmed in excruciating detail by Bobby. The zoom button on his video camera got quite a workout, particularly when the time came for Nate to bend over, spread his cheeks and display his tight little hole for the camera.

Once Nate was clean and relatively dry, Bobby and Devlin (the latter deferring to the slightly older boy) had him lie face up on his bed while they sprayed shaving foam on his pits, chest and groin. For the next ten minutes the two younger boys carefully shaved away any stubble while Nate stayed as still as possible.

"Shouldn't we do his butt as well, like you guys did on Friday?" asked Bobby as Devlin wiped away the traces of foam.

Devlin glanced at Nate guiltily. "Well, Troy did say we should make sure he was smooth all over ..."

"Awesome! On your stomach, slave," Bobby demanded, without bothering to conceal his delight. Nate unhappily rolled onto his stomach. Bobby immediately pried Nate's buttcheeks apart and gazed at the tightly puckered hole within. "Foam please, Dev."

Devlin, a little reluctantly, squirted some shaving foam onto Nate's hole. There was next to no stubble in Nate's buttcrack, so this was more an opportunity for Bobby to finger his ass than to actually make sure he was cleanly shaved. Nate grunted as Bobby vigorously buried his entire index finger in Nate's chute.

"Oops, my finger slipped. Sorry," Bobby apologized, quite insincerely. He wiggled his finger around inside Nate's hole a few times before pulling out. "Then again, it's not like it's your first time." He didn't say it out loud but Nate was pretty sure he'd wanted to end the sentence with "slut".

"Okay then, it's almost time for your window jerk-off. Um, Dev ... do you want to watch? I've got a great view from my bedroom. And I've got the latest Grand Theft Auto, if you wanna play afterward ... that is, if you don't have other plans."

Devlin looked nonplussed by the invitation. "Uh ... no, actually. I'll have to tell my mom but I don't think she'll say no. And I just checked the lights on my bike and they work, so it shouldn't be a problem for me to ride home even if it gets dark out."

"Great," grinned Bobby.

Devlin turned to Nate. "Oh, and by the way, Troy asked me to remind you to bring your toy to your seven o'clock `date'. What did he mean?"

For a moment Nate wondered if he could trust Devlin with the truth -- he knew the kid had a crush on him and he might be willing to take Nate's side against his tormentors if he knew they were raping him. Then again, the information might be just what the little fag was waiting for. Nate could see it in his mind's eye: "Cool! Bobby, let's double-fuck him. Do you want heads or tails?"

No, he couldn't trust Devlin. Even in the best case scenario, it was unlikely Devlin would have much influence over his seniors and the chances were Nate's humiliation would be made public. In the worst case scenario, Nate would end up with two more guys empowered to fuck him.

"I'm supposed to go over to Troy's place; he said he'd tell me why once I get there," Nate replied finally.

Clearly disgruntled by Devlin's obvious soft spot for Nate, Bobby interrupted. "Come on, Dev. Nate, don't start until you see us at my window."

Devlin gave Nate a concerned glance before following Bobby out of the room. Less than five minutes later Nate saw them both at Bobby's bedroom window. He went through the increasingly familiar ritual of climbing onto his desk and fisting his dick while fingering his ass until he came. Then he licked the window pane clean of his cum. Looking across to the Rawlins residence he found the two boys had disappeared from the window, presumably to play the videogame. Nate stayed naked in his bedroom per instructions until he heard his mom's car draw up in the driveway. Then he dressed and went downstairs.

His mom was mildly surprised to learn that Nate was going to a friend's house for the second day in a row but she prepared an early dinner for him readily enough. Nate left his house at quarter to seven and arrived at the Franklin County Aquatic Center just before the appointed time. Troy was already waiting and slipped into the front passenger seat of Nate's car.

"You know what to do, right?"

Nate made a last ditch attempt to get out of seducing Spencer. "This is never going to work! He's going to smell a rat."

"Not if you do as I told you. It might be awkward for the first couple of minutes but once you've got those lips around his dick he'll forget all about questioning your sudden attraction to the same sex. Oh, and I've got a couple of things for you." Troy held out a tiny black gadget. "This is an audio recording device. I borrowed it from Drew. Getting visuals of your first gay seduction is going to be hard -- though I did bring my camera which is good for long range shots -- but this way we'll have a sound bite to, uh, better appreciate your talents. Just put it in your jeans pocket."

Nate nervously did as he was told.

Troy continued, "Now here's the second thing." He dug a little blue pill in a clear plastic bag out of his pocket. "Take this."

Nate eyed the pill suspiciously. "What's that?"

"Oh, something to help you get going; give Spence proof he can't deny. It shouldn't take more than ten minutes before you start to feel the effects. Nate? Earth to Ramsey ..."

Nate was remembering Saturday night, and the glass of orange juice Troy had handed him upon their return from the gay club. Nate had thought at the time that it tasted a little bitter. Then a little while later he was sporting an erection during his gang-rape.

"You bastard! You gave me one of those pills that night, on Saturday. In my O.J. You did, didn't you?"

Troy didn't even bother denying it. "Took you long enough to figure it out. Are you telling me all this time you've been thinking you actually enjoyed getting gang-fucked at both ends? Oh, boy --"

He didn't get any further as Nate grabbed Troy by the throat and started to throttle him. "You sick bastard! It wasn't bad enough that you raped me, but you had to drug me as well, to make me think I might actually have liked it? WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?"

Unnerved by Troy's amused expression, Nate released his grip on his throat. Troy coughed and rubbed his neck. "You dumb fuck. I'm laughing because the pill might have given you a hard-on, but it didn't introduce your doubts. If you were really as straight as you claim to be, would a single hard-on be all it took to make you doubt your sexuality?"

Nate stared at him, unable -- or perhaps unwilling -- to consider what Troy was saying. "You're sick," he said finally. "When I tell the other guys you drugged me --"

"You think they don't know? You're even stupider than I thought. We were all having a good laugh about it. To be honest, some of us thought messing with your mind was more fun than fucking your body."

Nate opened his mouth several times but nothing came out. Learning the true depths of his teammates' evil had rendered him speechless.

"Oh, get over it." Troy rolled his eyes. "It was one freaking pill. Didn't make a difference; you got raped anyway. Now this pill right here -- this could mean all the difference between a successful seduction and a failed one. And you know what the price of failure is ..."

Nate looked down at Troy's outstretched palm and the blue pill. He wanted the seduction to fail. But he also wanted to remain the macho, straight stud so many admired. The latter desire won out. Slowly he reached to take the pill from Troy's palm and swallowed it.

He didn't feel any different immediately afterward, but he knew the drug wouldn't kick in until later. He couldn't believe he was going ahead with this. He forced himself to listen to what Troy was saying.

"... Remember, keep talking to a minimum; he's going to find it hard to ask too many questions if he's too busy moaning while you suck his dick. Use lots of tongue when you kiss him, and swallow his load. And don't try to hide the fact that you're nervous; it's realistic under the circumstances and it's a turn-on." Troy glanced out the window. "Ah, there he is. Go and catch him while he's still unlocking his car. I'll be waiting here when you finish."

Nate took a moment to steel his nerves -- every fiber of his being was rebelling against the idea of seducing a gay guy -- before getting out of the car. He had in his hands a bag containing the lifeguard clothes which Spencer had borrowed him on Saturday and which had since been washed by Nate (in his first ever operation of the washing machine, much to his mom's pleasant surprise).

"Spencer?"

Startled, Spencer whirled around from unlocking his car door. "Christ! Nate. You gave me a shock." He had obviously showered at the end of his shift; his blond hair was still damp and he was dressed casually in jeans and a t-shirt instead of the lifeguard kit Nate usually saw him wearing. "Are those my clothes? I thought I told you there was no hurry to get them back to me."

"Um, yeah. But that was Saturday and now it's Tuesday so ..." Nate allowed his voice to trail off as Spencer took the bag from him and opened his car door to toss it into the backseat.

"Thanks, man. I guess I'll see you in the pool next time, huh?"

Nate knew this was the moment of truth. He swallowed and struggled to get the words out. "Actually, there's something else I -- I need to tell you ..."

"Yeah? What?"

Nate grabbed Spencer and pressed his lips to his. It was so unexpected that it took Spencer a moment to react. Nate saw his green eyes widen in shock before he pushed Nate off of him.

"What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, I know that wasn't the way to go about it but I couldn't keep it to myself anymore ..." Nate's words came in a rush and Spencer almost didn't follow it. But there was no way he could mistake what Nate said next. "I'm in love with you."

Under any other circumstances, Nate would have busted a gut laughing at Spencer's bug-eyed expression. But as it were, laughter was the furthest thing from Nate's mind. He watched Spencer closely, trying to prepare for every possible reaction.

"This is some kind of joke, right?" Spencer said at last. "Like some high school version of Punk'd or something. You and your straight buddies are waiting to pounce the moment I reply in kind." He looked around the deserted parking lot sharply and Troy, who'd been watching through the long-range camera lens from behind some bushes on the perimeter, only just managed to duck out of sight.

"No, no. I'm not kidding. I meant what I said. It took me forever to realize it but -- I'm in love with you."

"Nate, you're out of your mind. I know you're not gay. Everything about you screams hetero. And you don't even know me."

"I know it's hard to believe. I've done my best to deny it for years. But I just can't anymore. You can't imagine how I felt when you revealed that you knew my name. It was beyond my wildest dreams. It was worth having all those people see me naked --"

"Whoa! Are you telling me you arranged that, so that you could --" Spencer shook his head. "No. This is crazy. I don't know what game you're playing but you're not fooling me."

Nate gazed at him with the most seductive expression he could fake. "I'll prove it to you." Without another word, he reached down and unzipped Spencer's jeans. As he reached into his pants Spencer grabbed his hand.

"Okay, you've had your fun. There's no way I'm getting caught by your Punk'd crew with my pants down in a parking lot."

Nate knew the response to that perfectly. He had his shirt off and his jeans around his ankles in no time flat. Spencer stared at Nate's perfect body, clad only in a gray jockstrap that was bulging obscenely with an obvious hard-on. If his eyes had bugged out anymore they would have popped right out of their sockets.

"I -- Nate -- what --"

Nate leaned very close to Spencer, so close that the other boy could feel the heat radiating from his bare body, and whispered in his ear, "Don't say anything." He gave Spencer a light push and he fell backwards into his car's backseat. Nate crawled in on top of him, his head poised directly above Spencer's crotch. In spite of his misgivings, his hard dick was tenting his white briefs, which were just visible through the open zipper.

Spencer looked up at Nate with wide eyes. "You're not going to do what I think you're going to do. There's no coming back from that. If this is a joke it's got to end now before you do something you re-- Holy shit!"

While Spencer was talking, Nate had fished his dick out of his briefs. He was astonished to discover Spencer was the proud owner of a circumsized dick that was no less than ten inches in length, but he didn't let it slow him down. He knew he had to act within the window he'd been given, so he immediately deep-throated as much of Spencer's dick as he could.

"Oh fuck," moaned Spencer as Nate swirled his tongue around his dick. He knew that he was letting lust take over and that he should at least discuss Nate's confusion over his sexuality before he let it get this far, but he couldn't string two words together to form a coherent sentence. Having gone without sex for over a month -- ever since his breakup with Derek -- Nate's warm mouth enveloping his dick was the best sensation he'd felt in a long time.

"Nate, we -- ah -- got to discuss this. And not like this! We're in -- fuck -- a public place for Christ's sake! Oh God, you're good!" Unable to resist temptation any longer -- Nate wouldn't have come this far if he wasn't sure, after all -- Spencer grabbed Nate's head by the hair and pushed him further down on his dick. Nate struggled to control his gag reflex as the entire ten-and-a-half inches slipped into his mouth. His nose was buried in dark golden pubes.

Troy, who had carefully snuck up to Spencer's car, was able to snap a couple of clear shots of Nate servicing an anonymous dick through the gap between the two front seats. He managed to creep back to the bushes without either Nate or Spencer seeing him.

Meanwhile, Nate remembered further details from his `lesson' in the art of gay seduction and slipped his hands beneath Spencer's t-shirt and followed the trail past his well-defined abs and up to his lightly-furred chest, where he found his targets: Spencer's nipples. He tweaked them and hit the jackpot. Within seconds Spencer was bucking his hips wildly and shooting an extremely voluminous load (the result of a month of abstinence) down Nate's throat. The stud struggled to swallow all of it without choking.

Forcing a smile onto his features, Nate leaned back and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It took Spencer a moment to come down from his orgasmic high and only then did the enormity of what had just transpired hit him.

"Fuck, what did we just do?"

Nate tried to shrug nonchalantly. "Proving to you I was serious."

"Nate, that was --"

"-- everything I imagined it would be?" Nate interrupted and finished the sentence for him. "Do you know how long I'd waited for that? How many nights I spent jerking off while thinking what it would be like to have your dick in my mouth?"

Spencer just gaped at him. It was not every day that an extremely hunky and heretofore-assumed-straight guy threw himself at you, sucked you off and then revealed he'd had such fantasies about him for a long time. Spencer was still waiting for himself to wake up from what appeared to be an incredible dream.

As for Nate, he hated every word coming out of his mouth, especially knowing that they were being picked up by the recording device in the pocket of his discarded jeans, but he didn't allow himself to show his revulsion.

Spencer found his voice at last. "I can't believe I let you give me a blowjob just like that. Fuck, we didn't even talk about it."

"What's there to talk about?"

"Everything! For starters, your obvious confusion over your sexuality --"

"I'm not confused. I know exactly what I want, and it's you. That is, if you'll have me." Nate fixed his best puppy-dog eyes on Spencer, who gulped.

"I -- I don't know. Maybe we should at least go on a date first --"

"No!" Nate exclaimed with such vehemence that Spencer was obviously stunned. Nate quickly amended, "I mean, I can't go out on a date with you in public. Not yet. I -- I'm not out to my folks or my friends." Seeing Spencer's doubtful expression, he went on, "I am going to come out to them, soon I promise. I just need to find the right time. Please?" Troy had told Nate he would need to carry on this charade for a month or so before breaking it off with Spencer; Nate just had to keep postponing his `coming out' until then.

"Nate, this is all really ... sudden." Spencer tried to arrange his thoughts rationally but it was difficult with a nearly-naked stud in such close proximity. Nate was playing his part to perfection by gently rubbing Spencer's exposed abs, feeling the muscles and playing with the trail of soft, dark blond hair. "I can't give you an answer right away. I've tried having a relationship with a guy who was still in the closet before and it didn't work out."

"I will tell everyone, I promise," Nate lied unrepentantly. "We just need to keep it quiet for a little while. And I can't wait that long to have you again ... You're everything I've dreamt about; everything I could hope for ... please say you'll at least consider it."

An author once described flattery as a lever that, used wisely, could move the world. Spencer was flattered in spite of his misgivings. His self-confidence was at a low ebb after his breakup with his boyfriend and Nate's sweet talk was all the more attractive coming from such a gorgeous hunk.

"Okay," said Spencer, and Nate grinned. "But no more surprise kisses and certainly not blowjobs -- Christ! If you'd tried that on someone else ..." He looked sharply at Nate. "You haven't, have you? You were awfully good just now, during the, um, blowjob. Not many guys could take the whole thing on their first time." His tone suggested suspicion that his blowjob had not been Nate's first.

Nate thought quickly; he could hardly confess that he had given more than a dozen blowjobs already. Fortunately, he was struck by a sudden flash of inspiration. "I have a toy ... which I practice on." In spite of his amazement that the longest dick he had seen (outside of porn) belonged to a fag, he managed to add jokingly, "I think you've got half an inch on it, though."

Spencer stared at Nate with a mixture of incredulity and lust. His dick strained in his briefs at the thought of this hunk lying naked in his bed, playing with his toy, deep-throating it, fucking himself in the ass with it ... He looked down at Nate's crotch and saw that his bulge had not receded in all the time they'd been talking.

"You're really gay," he said out loud, scarcely believing it.

"As queer as a three-dollar bill," Nate replied; he had no idea where that had come from but it sounded appropriately gay. He could see that Spencer was now totally sold on the idea that Nate was a fag just like him.

"I'm going to wake up in a few seconds and find that it's all a dream."

"Oh, you're dreamy, alright" -- where the fuck was he coming up with this stuff -- "but this is as real as it gets. Or do you need more proof?" He lowered his hand and cupped the bulge in Spencer's briefs. It responded to his touch immediately.

"Oh God," groaned Spencer. It took every ounce of resolve he had to remove Nate's hand from his crotch. "Not again so soon. I need time to process everything."

That was the cue Nate had desperately been awaiting. "Of course. I've waited this long; what's another day or two?" He picked up his jeans and began to back out of the open car door.

"Wait, you're leaving just like that?"

"I'll call you." Nate stood in the parking lot and pulled on his jeans.

Spencer scrambled forwards. "Do you even have my number?!"

Nate laughed. "Do I have your number?" he repeated. "You'll hear from me tomorrow." Slinging his shirt over his bare shoulder instead of putting it on, he walked away quickly to where Troy had parked his car just out of sight from Spencer's car.

Spencer opened his mouth to call Nate back, then thought the better of it, and slumped against the seat. "What the fuck just happened?" he asked himself. "Did the hunkiest straight guy I've ever seen just profess his love for me and then give me a blowjob? This is unreal."

There was a sharp rapping on the glass of his car window, making him jump. For a second he thought Nate had come back. He was vaguely disappointed to see it was his fellow lifeguard and college roommate, Brody Lawson.

"Hey dude, what're you still doing here? Your shift ended an hour ago!"

Spencer hesitated. Nate had asked him to keep things between them quite for "a little while". So he lied, "I was just thinking about ... stuff, and I guess I lost track of time."

Brody caught sight of Spencer's open zipper and gave him a knowing look. "Ah, `stuff'. I understand. I guess a, um, change of scene does help once in a while."

Spencer looked down at his jeans and noticed the open zipper. Blushing, he hastened to zip his jeans up. "It's not what you think," he hurried to explain.

"Relax, bud. We've all done it at least once in our lives. Nothing quite like the risk of discovery to really get you going, huh? A word of advice though: don't jack off here during Regina's shift. You'd hate for her to be the one to find you with your pants down." Spencer realized Brody had misunderstood the significance of his open zipper but, since it worked to his benefit, he didn't bother correcting the misconception.

"Anyway," Brody continued, "I've got dinner plans with Carly. You want to join us?"

Spencer shook his head. "Nah, I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. Catch you later in the dorm, `kay?"

Brody nodded and gave Spencer a friendly punch in the shoulder before walking away in the direction of the street. Spencer pulled himself out of his thoughts and got into the driver's seat. He wished he'd had the foresight to get Nate's number but it had all happened so fast and it hadn't occurred to him at that moment. His only option now was to await Nate's phone call with trepidation and -- yes -- anticipation.

& & & & &

Audrey and Tucker Petersen had spent several years searching for their dream home. Already the parents of two kids and expecting a third, they were hoping to buy a home with enough space for each of the kids to have their own room and a fifth room for guests. Even with Tucker's inheritance from his father, they'd been warned by everyone they knew that they were unlikely to afford the home they were hoping for, even with the sluggish property market in Mount Pleasant. The five-bedroom, mock-Tudor residence in Craven Heights had been an unexpected windfall. Its owner had died and left the place to a distant relative who lived in Europe and had no wish to maintain a property in rural Virginia. It was going for a song and was promptly snapped up by the Petersens in spite of dire predictions by their relatives that the place would prove to be a money trap.

Eighteen years later, Audrey and Tucker had no problems to report with their home. The late owner had kept the place in perfect condition and Audrey had found very little need to update the well-preserved interiors. The guest room proved useful whenever Tucker's mother or Audrey's parents came to visit. However, the aspect of the house that most pleased the children -- Maxwell, Carly, and Troy, who was born two months after they moved in -- was the small building that lay at the bottom of the garden. Originally a glorified gardening shed, it had been painstakingly turned into a playhouse by Tucker for his kids. It had grown with them, being their favorite place to hang out with friends (and, on occasion, lovers) within the physical boundaries of home and yet outside the sphere of their parents' direct influence. (Audrey had learned not to barge into the playhouse unannounced after walking in on her younger son making out with another boy, sans clothes. It was hard to tell who out of the trio was the most embarrassed.) Even with Max pursuing a career in Boston, Carly opting to live in her college dorm, and Troy turning 18, Audrey and Tucker persisted in calling the building at the bottom of the garden "the kids' playhouse". What was about to transpire there that night, however, was anything but child's play.

"Alright, get your butt inside," snarled Troy, holding the playhouse door open for a naked Nate. He had been forced to strip inside his car and make the journey to the playhouse through the garden gate in the nude. Luckily, Troy lived in a quiet neighborhood with poor street lighting.

`Max, Carly and Troy's Playhouse', proclaimed the plaque on the door in multicolored lettering, which Nate was just able to read before he was ushered inside and the door slammed shut behind him. He gazed around curiously in spite of himself. Unlike his teammates, he had never been invited to Troy's home.

The playhouse consisted of a single, large room with a low, timbered ceiling and a polished wooden floor. There were two double-tiered bunk beds at one end of the room and a round table at the other. A door was set into the wall behind the table, which Nate would later learn led to a fenced-in outdoor shower. There was ample space in the middle of the room and this was spread with a collection of rugs. During the day the playhouse received plenty of natural light through the skylight; however, at that hour of night (it was nearly 8:30) Troy was compelled to switch on the standing lamps which gave off a warm glow.

"Alright, get under the table and suck me off while I upload this recording and the photos I took of your little seduction routine. There are only a handful of photos but the recording is priceless." Troy had spent the drive to his house doubled up in laughter as he played back the recording of Nate with Spencer.

He casually divested all his clothing while Nate looked down in shame. Then he set his video camera to film from a low angle that meant Nate would be fully visible as he knelt on the floor, but Troy himself would only be seen from the waist down. Satisfied with the camera angle, he threw himself into the chair in front of his notebook. "What are you waiting for?" he barked as Nate hesitated to obey.

His unwilling slave knelt down and crawled under the table. Before he could wrap his lips around Troy's dick, however, the owner of said dick held out the dildo Nate had been told to bring, along with a bottle of lube.

In answer to Nate's enquiring look, Troy explained, "Just because I can only fill one of your holes at any given time doesn't mean you shouldn't still be plugged at both ends. Lube up that dildo and stick it in your ass; from what I hear you're going to need the practice if you're going to take Spencer's dick up your ass in the very near future."

Nate gulped as he looked at the ten-inch silicone dick. It was longer than anything he'd had up his dick so far. His asshole clenched shut at the mere thought of being sodomized with it. He swallowed a sob and took the dildo from Troy. He made sure to slather it generously with lube before pressing it against his anal ring and pushing it in, inch by agonizing inch. At the same time he took Troy's dick in his mouth and started to suck on it.

The room was silent for the next few minutes except for the slurping noises of Nate blowing Troy, the tap of fingers on the notebook keyboard, and the occasional moan of pleasure from Troy.

"Yeah, fuck that sloppy ass, you slut," he grunted, fucking Nate's mouth violently. "You're such a sorry excuse for a man, aren't you? Just like us fags. That's what you thought isn't it?" Nate tried to respond but Troy pushed his head further down on his dick. "Don't try to deny it. I've seen the look on your face, wondering why any of our teammates give me the time of day. You just ooze repressed bigotry. If only you had balls, you'd have come right out and said what you were thinking. But you're just a coward who thinks himself better than everyone else, particularly if they happen to love dick. Well, guess what? I'm not the slut who's on his knees sucking dick after dick."

Nate managed to spit out Troy's dick and spoke. "Man, you're going overboard. You just -- imagine stuff that isn't there. You just make yourself out to be a victim --"

"Yeah, sure," Troy agreed sarcastically, "I've nothing better to do than imagine homophobia where it doesn't exist. Stop trying to save yourself, Nate. I'm on to you. If you didn't fear Coach kicking you off the team if for homophobia, you'd probably be heading up an anti-fag society with your football buds."

"Troy, you're really getting this all wrong, man!"

"Shut the fuck up, Nate. I'm not interested in your pathetic attempt to save your ass. I'm not getting off from your blowjob. I think it's time you learned something new." He lifted his legs and rested them on the table. "Let's see you do some rimming. Stick your tongue in my hole."

"WHAT?" Nate forgot all arguments to deny his innate homophobia. "No fucking way! That's the sickest thing you fags have ever come up with!"

Troy's eyes narrowed. "Alright. Don't do it. I have here an email I'm just about to send to Melanie and a whole bunch of other people in school. Photos from this afternoon."

"No ... you wouldn't."

"Try me."

Nate didn't want to `try' him. He knew better than to expect any mercy from Troy when he was being this vindictive. "Please," he sobbed, "don't make me do this. Anything but this. It's sick."

"That's what you said when you were first told to suck dick. And now you're a pro at it. If I don't feel your tongue at my hole in five seconds, you can say goodbye to your life as you know it." Nate still didn't move to obey. Troy began to count down. "Five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... say a final farewell to your old life, Natey ..."

Just as he was to say "zero", Nate gave in. He was utterly broken. He'd not thought he could sink any further but that was before he hit rock bottom. The tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he began to tongue Troy's ass, but Troy didn't give a damn.

"Ah," he moaned. "Yeah, stick your tongue all your way in. Lick my hole clean."

Nate was feeling queasy; it was not that Troy's hole was unclean but the sexual act he was committing disgusted him to his very core. He remembered the first and only time he had performed cunnilingus. He'd been 14 and desperate to lose his virginity. His good looks had attracted a 17-year-old girl who was more than happy to facilitate Nate's first time. But first, she insisted, he had to eat her out. Nate had been repulsed but, then as now, he persevered because the end outcome was something more valuable to him. Fear is a powerful motivator, especially when you have on the line a reputation you'd spent your whole life building.

"Oh fuck!" yelled Troy as Nate buried his entire tongue in his hole. "That's fucking fantastic! Get your mouth around my dick now, I'm going to cum!"

Nate obeyed with great relief, and Troy shot his load down his throat. Spent, Troy looked down at his distressed fucktoy. "That was great fun, wasn't it? There's just one more thing before you can go home." He stood up and retrieved the video camera that had recorded for posterity Nate's utter degradation. He then set it carefully on the bottom bunk of one of the beds, before flopping down onto the bunk opposite.

"Come here, fucktoy. I'm gonna need a moment but you can get the condom out of my jeans pocket. Then take that dildo out of your ass and clean it. You're going to be sucking on it while you fuck yourself on me."

This latest humiliation should have been another blow to Nate's pride, but he was too devastated to care. Words were not sufficient to describe how truly pathetic and demeaned he felt. He was so numb that he hardly felt anything as he squatted over Troy's groin and lowered himself onto his rigid dick. Pain, dismay, embarrassment, anger -- none of these registered because he had drained just about every emotional reserve he had. He just fucked himself silly on Troy's dick, like he was an automaton, not even flinching when Troy roughly forced him down the entire length of his dick.

If anyone had been going past the Petersens' garden at 9:33 that night, they would have seen an extremely hunky teenager staggering to a parked car. His naked body was dripping with sweat, and he walked oddly, with a slight limp. In spite of his nudity and the chilly night, he didn't hurry. He moved like a zombie and, if anyone had gazed into his eyes, they would have found their deep blue depths utterly devoid of life.

To be continued ...

Postscript: ------------

I know this is a very depressing chapter, which is why I delayed publishing it until after Christmas. No point on being a downer at the holidays! And I won't lie to you: things are going to get worse -- a lot worse -- for Nate before they start to get better. As always, I appreciate your thoughts: I know not all of you will be pleased by the developments in this chapter and, indeed, some of you may be downright appalled by them. I do love hearing what my readers think of the story, be it positive or negative. I can't promise to respond to every email, or integrate every suggestion, but I hope that won't stop you from writing in. And lastly, I'd like to wish all my readers a very happy new year. Cheers!

Copyright: ----------- Copyright Jasper X. Cooper, 2009. All Rights Reserved.