Disclaimer/Reminder: The following story is a work of gay fiction although based on non-fictional occurrences. It contains sexual acts between males in high school as well as with males beyond high school age. There are scenes of definite humiliation, some of them graphic. If this subject matter is offensive to you or if you are too young to be reading it, please exit now. You have been warned. This story is the property of the author under U.S. copyright laws, and may not be used elsewhere without written consent. Otherwise enjoy. Any emails or flames expressing outrage will be ignored. Emails expressing interest or wishing further information can be sent to mtnuda@hotmail.com.
Note: All names and locations have been altered to protect the innocent. The state in which the story originally happened - coincidentally - has a legal age of sixteen; the "fictionalized" location does not. Also descriptions of unprotected sex are fictional due to story restraints. You understand you are reading a work of fiction; behave accordingly. Again, do not read this if you're a minor or are offended by gay situations or activities which can be classified as bdsm.
Now, back to our show --
Chapter Eighty-four
"This Omega Point throws off reflections of itself
which actually richochet into the past illuminating
the visionary with fragmentary glimses of eternity..."
T. McKenna
Saturday August 10 continued
"Okay you girls rinse off before you waste all the water -- "
"Just when we're starting to have fun" from Brian who was making a point of jacking his hardon for all to see. And a few were seeing. And from what Brian could tell, it was getting contagious. But from the signals Moose was giving him the show was moving to the other area.
The first ones through the doorway towards the locker area were Moose -- of course -- and Doug who was being steered like he was Moose's half brother. Ern was watching this all and in spite of being major boned by Moose's naked horseplay almost laughed loud enough for him to hear. Like anyone could steer Moose around like so much dead weight. Either clueless or displaying a death wish.
Doing his best to steer the Moose twins through the door was that guy who had been playing hall monitor not five seconds before blocking any early escapees. But now he was grabbing elbows and shoulders, pushing them out of the shower area, directing traffic like he had a deadline to meet. The next elbow was Klu's, hoping once he left his circle of fans would follow as well. As soon as the foursome cleared the door and saw the chaos in the lockerroom, they slid to a slippery halt, a naked bottleneck jamming up the doorway fast. The rest of the guys, hearing all the commotion and seeing their expected exit blocked, came all the way around the dividing wall ruining the effect but by that point all bets were off.
Kroos, Joel and Mark were engaged in a three-way shoving match, struggling and swearing, with two guys in football gear making inept attempts to intercede, pinning their arms behind them long enough for Joel to calm down.
"What the fuck's goin on?" from Moose, who never got the luxury of reading the script. To him all of this almost looked serious. But then he heard one of the voices from under a helmet,
"Mind yer own business. We... we found these two pervs spying on you guys in the showers!" and of course everyone recognized Mort's voice. A few of the wet naked guys were too busy trying to find their micro-towels to bother hiding their chuckles. But Moose heard that voice like the clarion call of tonight's mission. If he was going to stand there naked and dripping wet, his cousin already suited up was his target. All the shit he heard about his super-respectable, super-sucesssful cousin would be exposed once and for all. And Moose elected himself a committee of one to do the exposing. If he could just signal Ern -- yeah okay and Big Hank for that matter -- and let this know what he was about to do was necessary, he would have one less worry. But this was family business; they would have to understand.
"WHAT?!?!" from several directions echoing off the hard surfaces, guys jostling and shoving trying to get a better look, ready to intercede until Joel broke free,
"What are you TALKIN about?" then Kroos of all people grabbed Joel's arm "lemme go!"
"Jo-Joe!" Kroos was too busy trying to muscle him in the general direction of the inner stage door to worry about his shorts down around his thighs, his hard shiny cock jumping and waving around like a wild animal free of its cage "you are not supposed to be here!"
"Why not?" Joel broke away before Mort took over the rough stuff "y'didn't want me seeing you'n this jock here trading blow jobs is that it?"
"That's disgusting!" from under one of the helmets "spying on the team's bad enough but doing that!"
"Leave now... Joe" Kroos used one free hand to start yanking up his shorts until Joel broke free of Mort and then Joel was his responsibility again.
"He made me do it!" Mark stood there trying to look innocent. His hard innocence showing in his tan shorts. According to the camera pointing at him he was scheduled to be the center of interest, his hard pumped muscles shiny with sweat from the recent work-out, showing enough tube in his shorts to explain his inclusion in the night's activities. But except for one or two guys angling for a better view of his front, most were trying to make sense of the three-way, four-way? fight going on.
"He made you get a blow-job? So what?" from Klu, not bothering to cover up. By that point it would have been a bit stupid, he thought. Besides, he was too distracted trying to place the other two helmeted dudes. He was angling closer to the one he had a hunch on.
"So what?" Mort mocked back "so WHAT?"
"Yeah, even if I believe that shit which I don't! ain't like nothin nobody's seen before..." Brian was looking right into the camera. His cock was trying to deflate but this was all too exciting. Exciting and bizarre. Even he could tell this was not in the game plan for tonight.
"You don't understand" Mort again, twisting Kroos' arm behind him almost to the point Kroos's wince looked genuine "you can see how... how... aroused it was gettin them" and used his other hand to pull the front of Kroos' pants down further, his bone hard springing free as his balls swung back and forth. Several guys, both on stage and in the audience, reacted loudly.
"What'dya think we better do with these two?" from the other guy. As soon as they heard his voice their fears were confirmed. It really was Bernan!
"Coach, it's coach" several of the guys were saying out loud. Brian's hands flew to his crotch, pushing his way to the back of the room.
"Yeah your coach's gonna beat the shit outa the whole lotta ya when he hears about this!" Joe Bernan started jostling Joel between him and the cameras. Joel interpreted it as permission to stay.
"Coach? coach?" from Joel now, getting ready to spill the beans "so can I make sure -- I mean if I gotta stay..."
"Coach wants you to leave Joe!" Kroos tried to wrestle Joel away from Bernan, dumbfounded he of all people was blocking Joel's departure. He knew Joel did not belong here and needed to get his underage ass out of there now.
"Yeah, HE's gonna be real pissed" Matt spun around to find the big braggart Brian hiding in the back "especially when HE sees you runnin around like that with your stiffie for all to see. You want me to tell him what -- "
"No Ma -- I mean Mike" Doug looked from that weasel Matt to Moose then back at Bernan "what the fuck's he here for? What is all this shit?"
"So you -- alla ya -- better keep yer traps shut" Moose winked at Doug, turning to Bernan "or I WILL tell the coach about this, you got it?"
"What about these two?" Mort's job was to bring this whole mess back to the script. As long as he could keep this on track he might avoid a total train wreck yet. And the less improv allowed, the less chance he would be drawn into any actual shit. Unlike previous Saturday nights.
"What were they -- " from Doug, spending most of his time turning Moose into his human shield. But Moose kept jumping around, trying to get a better look at all of this.
"Yeah what exactly were they doing?" from an older guy with a big hairy belly. Several guys turned at the sound, like he materialized from nowhere.
"I TOLD ya!" Mort again "these two peeping toms were perving on you guys in the showers! They were...hell there's worse!"
"Like what?" Moose looked at Joel, this your idea? Joel tried to shrug no,but his arms were pinned behind him, his barrel chest thrust forward, his shorts as stuffed full of hard dick as Kroos or that Mark guy.
"Well your assistant coach here" Mort gave Kroos' arm another jerk. This time it seemed genuine because Kroos almost broke free "he woulda been jackin off while spyin on you but -- "
There were several shouts of phony outrage from around the room, even the cameramen getting in on it.
"But mister innocent Mark here was too busy wrappin his mouth around it -- "
"That's a lie!" from Mark "it's a lie!" but Moose could here how rehearsed it sounded.
"You get it now?" from Joe "these two were trading blowjobs in my -- I mean OUR lockerroom!"
"So what does that...?" from mister hairy belly, already stepping into a pair of briefs. Doug almost shouted when he recognized them as his, expecting the guy to yank them off when he realized they were too small to be his own. But he kept them on, in spite of the fact they were threatening to rip up the back.
"Punish'm! Punish'm!" drowned out his comment, the yell from several of the adult plants at once, until the whole group took up the chant, punish them! punish them!
"Strip em!" from the third guy in gear. Two of the young guys closest to him tried to see under his helmet. Who the hell is this? Nobody had seen him before, at least not in the back dining area. But he was a strong muther, and with fuckin arms like that no one was gonna challenge this dude!
"Strip them!" several of the guys took up the new order, and when Moose joined the chant everyone took up the chant.
"Make those do the whole goddamn strip show. And take'm in that fucked up shower!" from Klu, who got a laugh from Brian and even a few in the audience "that's punishment enough!"
"Yeah then we play drop the soap!" from the brown haired guy, the only one thin enough to get the hand towel around his waist.
"Drop the soap! Drop the soap!" went the new chant, Brian and Matt hi-fiving until Doug pulled their hands down.
"Y'sure that's a good idea?" from mister hairy belly, a t-shirt pulled over his head. Again Doug looked in horror seeing his clothes being stretched over this stranger. He tried to get over there to stop him, but there were too many animated bodies between him and his locker, now mister hairy belly's locker.
"Why ain't it a good idea?" from Mort, using both hands to tug this back to the script "we were supposed to -- I mean they want them punished! You heard the guys!"
"You mean the boys" mister h.b. stood there, Doug's t-shirt barely covering the beach ball sticking out from his front "I can count several here under age right now--"
"I'm old enough!" from Billy Hammes, expecting several other voices to join his. He looked around when he realized he was the only one to open his big mouth "I... er... I mean..."
"Everyone here ain't eighteen better get their butts outa here right now" he looked at Mort, pinning him in his gaze. Mort saw the script flying into a thousand pieces. Then Bernan came to his aid,
"All you... gentlemen..." he looked right at Moose "know you still need to get your shots today" he held up his hand as several guys started protesting in shock "that's why you all gotta sign your medical release forms -- they're in the lockers behind you -- enough to go around -- if you can't find one" he went over to the locker closest to the stage door "I have extras here."
"What? What'd he say? What is this?" from most of the group, not the least mister hairy belly looking very pissed. One by one the guys started opening various lockers, seeing the sheets of paper on the upper shelf. The first one to read it was that guy with the bandaged arm who started the soap fight in the shower room.
"What the hell you mean to -- this ain't--"
"Gentlemen gentlemen..." Mort looked at Bernan who took it from there,
"Awright you guys listen up!" Brian and Matt snapped to attention at the familiar sound, an automatic reflex from countless sessions with him "you heard the man, anyone not old enough to get yer shots I want you outa here" looking right at Joel "got it? As for the rest of you sorry-ass dudes, sign your forms and read the last section -- no not out loud dumbfuck!" directed at Doug? "and move yer asses. DO IT! If ya can't --"
"If you can't" from mister soapy next to Klu "you're on kitchen duty, okay?" watching the shocked look from Mort and Bernan "that means you!" looking at Klu "you!" at Joel "and especially YOU!" at Billy Herms.
"But! but but!" from as many adults as the guys singled out.
"But why?" Billy Herms slipped close enough to whisper the question "who are you?"
"Yeah who are you, you ain't one of the... ringleaders" Moose also close by whispered to him.
"Call me Jesse... but this is who we are" mister soapy whispered back "now I mean it. You really need to get to the kitchen... now! The time is near..."
"What time?" Moose looked at Billy, this makin any sense to you?
"Joe!" Billy almost yelled Joel at him, getting his attention "you're with me" grabbing Klu elbow next "you too."
"But!" Klu resisted until Moose pressed his shoulder muscle tight. Klu felt it before and knew Moose was not playing now. He relented and allowed Billy to direct him to the stage door. They both grabbed Joel away from two of the guys in football gear and almost had him through the door when they heard,
"We want Joel!" from Brian and Matt like they had been rehearing this for days "we want Joel!"
"You mean Joe? Joe here?" Billy tried to keep the threesome moving but Joel hesitated at the threshold.
"Joel, Joe, whatever" Brian glared at them, then at Bernan "right Coach?"
"Wait!" Bernan was heading for them fast "stop don't say--"
"He stays or..." Matt squared his shoulders "we're 'burnin' these forms... Coach" making sure Bernan got the meaning "no...'joe'-king, got it?" he winked at Brian "play ball?"
"Joe..." Bernan looked at Joel "we can't make you stay..."
"We can" Matt looked over Bernan's shoulder at him "us... Miners are in this together, remember?"
"Billy... y'better go" Joel whispered to him and Klu "not sure what's happening now but I think you two better..."
"You gonna be okay?"
"No..." Joel shook his head "but I asked for this. Now leave!" and pushed the two through the door and stepped back on stage, knowing his fate was sealed. Several times they tried to get him out of the action, and each time something conspired to bring him back into the mix. Even Joel could figure out there were forces at work now, and his part was here, with Kroos.
Before anyone said anything he reached into the nearby locker, grabbed a form and signed it with a nasty scrawl. He swore he saw Mort wince.
"Okay everyone who's stayin is stayin "from Mort, his voice cracking a bit "y'heard the men... strip! All the way down t'yer jocks!" releasing Kroos from his grip, waiting for him to react. But Kroos gave a sideways look to Joel first and Mark second, then pulled the tan polo shirt over his head. As he did he knew the last hurtle had been passed and there was no return now. He tossed it to the floor behind him, feeling the lights as well as the stare burning his bare flesh. Several grunts came from around the room, from those who had never seen Kroos stripped to the waist. As well as from the few who had. Joel used the distraction of Kroos kicking out of his shoes to re-read the last paragraph of the release form he just signed, trying not to show the total shock seeing what it said. But it was too late to protest so he pulled off his tan shirt and pants, standing there is his t-shirt and white shorts, seeing a few guys around the room stepping into their underwear as well, knowing what it meant. Only a few guys stayed naked, gripping their small wet towels. But when he noticed one or two of them stepping into their "cross-trainers" he looked away fast, never in a million years guessing who would agree to such things.
The paragraph stipulated certain conditions for indicating what the guys on stage were will to do, what they were willing to participate in, once things with Kroos got serious. When he stripped down to his underwear, he indicated he was agreeing to any physical contact with other guys on stage as necessary. He would agree to touching other guys, and being touched by them in return. Up to a certain point. He wanted to strip down to just his running shoes, but once Kroos saw he was willing to do anything... as in ANYTHING! on stage, up to and including giving and taking it up the ass! he knew they would toss him outa there so fast it would look like trick photography! So he stood there in his underwear, his hardon showing through the damp stained cotton, watching Kroos unzip his pants, hesitating when it came time to show cock again. Even though his used jock was covering him somewhat, Joel now regretted making him -- or himself for that matter -- inhale that Viagra.
He looked over at the other guy, the musclehead already down to his own jockstrap like this was a race. He wondered what might have happened had he sucked him off backstage, had he gotten the big stud to blow a load before, if this might have been avoided. Joel looked away, not knowing how much of the blame was his, when one of the guys from the Y yelled,
"Man look at those two. They're both still like totally boned!"
"Make'm stand there like that" that chubby balding guy with the basketball stomach yelled out going to his locker "I gotta get me a picture of this" and off came Doug's t-shirt revealing his hairy back as he tossed it onto the piles of clothes there, then brought out a disposable camera, hopefully a prop. He made a point of taking a few "practice" pictures of the guys in the football gear "man this other dude's got some major muscles!" he clicked away at Mark who stood there, assuming this was part of the script. That page or two he did not get a chance to review before that kid's mouth zoomed in on his dick. But the way the guy was pointing it at his chest and face and not his full jock made him a bit nervous "even with all those steroids he's hung! I got me an idea!"
"I thought we were supposed to be punishing them" from Mort, not sure why this guy was ruining the script.
"These two are so proud of all those muscles, they think they're such big shits, they're so strong and cocky, well let's see how strong they are! Let's see how much shit they really can take before they break!" the guy continued, now trying to hold a towel in front of himself, or rather Doug's briefs.
"Whatdya mean by 'break'?" Mort looked at Bernan then Kroos. How did this guy get a hold of the script? He obviously knew some of the code words, but this was not part of the plan until much later.
"You know!" he looked at Mort, stern and serious "they got such big fuckin muscles, they think they're such muscle studs, let's break em! Let's see what it'll take to make'm say uncle! I know you got weights around here. Make up pump some serious iron til they beg fer mercy, til their fuckin arms fall off!"
"Pump what?" from Arn, starting to sweat under his uniform. He wanted to get out of all this outfit and get to the "hardcore" stuff before he passed out from those damn spotlights. All this other shit was just that. Bullshit!
"Go get the weights in the -- in my office" Mort looked at Kroos then at Bernan under his helmet "in the mean time, let's see how much y'can take, starting with some jumping jacks from you two!" and damn the train was back on track, unscheduled derailment notwithstanding.
Kroos and Mark looked at each other as the rest of the guys made some room for them. A few guys, like Doug and one of the adulst, as well as that Hammes guy from South used the distraction to slip into the shadows off-stage. The fact that their clothes were still in those lockers -- or being worn by others -- was the least of their concerns right now.
"We'll start y'out easy" from one of the helmets. Most of the guys recognized the coach's voice "gimme twenty!"
Mark adjusted his jock so his chub was folded under the waistband, but Kroos started the jumping jacks without that concern. As a result Mark lagged two or three behind him but who the hell was counting, he thought. So the two of them were jumping up and down, their big arms throwing off sprays of sweat, their chests heaving with the exertion, until first Kroos and then Mark slowed, now shiny and all-but naked under the floodlights. And there was mister hairy belly with his camera again.
"Shit that ain't punishment" from the other helmet, that big guy again "like I gotta show y'dudes how we do it where I come from" and he went into one of the lockers and pulled out two of the heaviest pair of football shoes he could find. He went over to Mark, who was standing catching his breath "hold still or you'll be singing falsetto" and he reached into Mark's jock and pulled out his balls. Mark protested and tried to yank away.
"Cut the shit Arn!" Mark was backing away, almost banging into one of the lockers. He hoped using Arn's real name might make him stop. It didn't.
"Look Mark, nothin would make me happier'n these dudes holdin ya down" Arn grabbed him by the arm "and gettin in a coupla punches before we call'm off" he bluffed,. looking at Kroos as well. Mark put up a struggle, flexing his impressive musculature for the cameras, but the struggled was more show than anything.
Arn grabbed Mark's balls hanging outside the pouch and gave them a tug, showing them very red and very vulnerable. He looped a length of the laces around Mark's uncircumcized cock and balls both, making a tight cockring of it, but leaving his cock pinned inside the shorts. The other lace was wrapped maybe six times around the base of his sac. With the two laces knotted together, he let the full weight of the shoe drop hard. Mark gave a grunt when the shoe yanked his goods a good two inches.
"Shit man that's fuckin wicked" Brian came around to see Mark's predicament "why didn't I think of that" he muttered to the guys around him. Arn overheard him,
"Cause you don't know what yer dick's good for besides wettin the bed!" he shot at him, quieting him fast. He went over to Kroos and tied him up as well. This time he just wrapped both laces around Kroos' low hangers, having more scrotum to work with. When he was finished Kroos' balls were hanging several inches lower than before.
"Okay now..." he looked at the other two helmets, then out to the audience "now we wanna see those jumping jacks again -- "
"But that's -- " from Bernan, wary of Arn's unscripted sadistic stunt.
"Okay you two" from Mort, trying to intervene "just gimme ten for starters."
Kroos looked over at Mark and whispered "you might want to reconsider all this."
"You forget" this time Mark started before Kroos "I'm as big a bastard as you" and winced as he started, each jump bringing the shoe up and slamming into his exposed stretched balls, and then jerking down like a yo-yo, pulling the knots even tighter. Kroos wanted to stop it then and there, but someone -- he could not see who -- slapped him on his butt and then he was jumping as well. Because his balls were tied different than Mark's, the full weight of the shoe jerked and yanked his scrotum, making it twist and stretch like hell. But with every jump, it seemed Kroos' bone only got harder and harder. A few of the guys started to comment when the inner door opened and Bernan re-appeared carrying, or rather dragging, two barbells.
He had stripped off most of his uniform, losing the helmet somewhere backstage. His jersey and most of the pads were replaced with just the shoulder pads, now pressing out a gray t-shirt he found backstage. Judging by Arn's reaction, Bernan discovered its owner. When he saw what was happening to Kroos and Mark, he yelled,
"That's my starting quarterback! What the fuck y'doin to him?"
"We're getting them both warmed up y'might say" from Arn challenging him.
"Shit" he went over to Mark and started to untie the wet knotted laces, whispering something until that guy with the disposable camera was back in their face.
"Leave'm!" from another of the aduts from the Y before, the lean brown-haired one in his underwear, who had been making a point of pressing up behind Brian and his tidy whities. Brian was trying to hide his nervous expression as best he could. He knew that wearing just his briefs meant he was willing to let some dude feel him up, a quick five hundred bucks, he reminded himself. And staying naked from the waist up signaled the dude he would not be returning the favor. But the way this dude kept pressing his crotch into Brian's butt gave him the impression this dude was not gonna be playin by the rules now.
"You heard the man" Arn came over and almost pushed Bernan away "gotta give the customer what they want" stealing a look at Mister Johnson/Jones by the mixing board, "right?"
"But this is -- "
"If yer such a pussy maybe you wanna join them" from Arn, right in Bernan's face. He looked at Mort then at the mixing board committee,
"Hey it ain't my funeral" he took a step back, but the expression on his face caused a few guys to back away.
"Give those two muscleheads the weights" from Brian's thin companion again "let's see if they're as strong as they look!"
So Mort and the coach each lifted a bar and placed them in front of Kroos and Mark. When Mark started tugging at his shoe, Arn shook his head.
"C'mon lemme at least loosen this?" Mark was miserable, hoping someone, Mort maybe, might take pity on him "I'm dyin here!"
"Nah, looks like yer enjoying this too much" Arn grabbed Mark's shorts, making a point of outlining his cock still pointed at twelve o'clock.
"But -- "
"You're a big boy" Arn tugged Mark's cock forward until it was pointing straight out, the taut head almost pushing through the cloth "there, now isn't that better?" He lifted the weights and shoved the barbell into Mark's six-pack, forcing him to grab it. With both hands struggling to keep the greasy bar from slipping, Mark could not reach down and re-adjust his cock, the sensitive head mashed against the material. The way it was angled now, any movement would make the head rub into the coarse pouch. Mark could only stand there readjusting his grip until the bar was better balanced. As long as he made no sudden jerks or jumps he hoped his nads might survive this after all. When he looked over at Kroos, he saw Mort had handed him the other barbell, but Kroos was not as lucky. His red hardon was pulled free of his shorts, pointing out and a bit down due to the tug on his balls from that damn shoe. He was about to say something when Mort said,
"Okay you two. For your punishment we're gonna see some nice leg squats. Get those barbells up to your chest and then let's see twenty! Now!"
Mark tried to protest, but was drowned out by the whoops and cheers from everyone around him. When he saw Kroos lift the weight and start a slow careful descent towards the floor he did the same. Luckily -- or not as the case might be -- he was only loaded with about fifty pounds on his bar, seeing a lot more on Kroos'. So the first five or so squats were almost easy on his arm and leg muscles. His cockhead however was rubbing itself raw against the inside of that scratchy pouch. Then he started to slow, trying to conserve his energy for whatever shit was next. He was about three short of completing the twenty when he felt his cock give a lunge and bang! it had torn a hole through the seam. He even heard a scattering of comments from several directions when it did. Only when he finished and straightened up did he see why. His cock, either from the blood pumping like mad, or from the shoelaces strangling the base, now looked like something from a bathroom wall cartoon! The head was as bright reddish purple as he'd ever seen, and the way it was pushing through the rip made it look like it was pumped to explode. Even Kroos was staring at it.
"Look" Kroos started to say "the guy is suffering, you must untie -- "
At that moment Kroos looked towards the mixing board, seeing Mister Johnson give a signal to Mort who announced rather loudly,
"I'm ready to start punishing ALL OF YOU" and there was a knock on the stage door. Right on cue.
"Who the hell is that?" Mort went over to the door, opened it, and left. In a matter of seconds he was back.
"Ah... we have a problem" he came over to Arn and Bernan, trying to look as serious as possible.
"What problem?" Bernan asked, also looking serious.
Several of the guys in the audience, especially those two commando guys in the first row, started to squirm, and then tried to get to their feet, as well as the two guys from the restaurant next to them, fearing the worst. Even Baby Huey in the back was out of his chair, an easy task because there was no hand in his lap holding him down. Mister Johnson/Jones turned to them and was trying to shush them, waving them back to their chairs.
"We got company" Mort announced over the growing noise, looking at Kroos and Mark as the dam burst, the sound of flying chairs drowning out his "remember?"