Training a Jock Slut 9
Disclaimer: The following story is a work of fiction. It contains sexual acts between males who are of legal consent age. There is humiliation, but rest assured, all parties eventually enjoy it. If this subject matter is offensive to you, please stop reading. This story is the property of the author and may not be used anywhere else without consent.
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Hope you guys like the new chapter. I tried writing one long one instead of two smaller ones. I will probably go back to the dual chapter format going forward.
Let me know if you liked it by emailing me at philip.faras@gmail.com. I appreciate all your emails. I am bit behind replying to them but I will get to them very soon.
Training a Jock Slut – Chapter 9
Brody and his father
Brody heard loud laughter and beer bottles clinking downstairs. He was finishing up all the homework for the week. The seemingly constant sex with the Reverend and Coach meant he had no time for schoolwork during the week. Coach, in a magnanimous gesture, told his slut to spend every Saturday evening on his studies.
This meant that Brody no longer had any time to socialize with his friends outside of school. And this was exactly what Coach wanted. He wanted his jock slave to live and breathe sex. Serving other men needed to become Brody's purpose in life. Everything else came second. But Brody did not realize his Coach's plan just yet. He was just grateful to be given time to keep his grades up. He needed to go to college to get away from this mess he was in.
Even when he was studying however, Brody was in nothing but his jockstrap. Usually, he had some reprieve from his humiliating attire when his father was home. However, a few days ago, Brody was finding it particularly hard to deepthroat Coach's monster cock. After gagging and sputtering one too many times, Coach got pissed off and told Brody that he was going to be wearing only his jockstrap when he was in his room, regardless of his father's presence in the house.
Brody began to protest, which made Coach even angrier. So now, Brody was forced to spend any time in his room in only his jockstrap, and a butt plug up his ass. Coach had also removed the soft lining in the jockstrap for his slut's insolence. So the jock was now sitting in a threadbare garment, while a thick plug was pushing into him uncomfortably as he tried to focus on his math homework.
The modified strap felt rough and was rubbing Brody's sensitive cockhead raw. The combination of the rubbing and the pressure in his ass caused Brody to shoot a load into his tiny outfit. And all it took to bring the jock over the edge was a bit of squirming on his chair.
Brody had spent the last few days terrified whenever he was in his room. He did not want to explain to his father why he was dressed in such immoral garb. Every time he heard footsteps in the hallway, Brody would jump onto his bed and under the covers. The Reverend would watch the nervous stud through the window and chuckle with glee as Brody scrambled for the bed.
Tonight however, the Reverend was not there to witness the jock's nasty act of forced self-pleasure. This was because he was downstairs, sharing drinks with Coach and Brody's father Hank. Both Coach and the Reverend were ecstatic at how suggestible Hank was in an inebriated state. They wondered how far they could push it. Both men watched their slut's father slowly get redder in the face. He was laughing boisterously at the smallest of things.
It was clear where Brody got his looks. Hank was just an older version of his son. He was still built from his days as a high school jock. He had a bit of blonde scruff on his face and a slight belly from years of inactivity. But his face, covered in fine wrinkles, was still as handsome as ever.
As Coach watched Hank knock back another beer, he nodded at the Reverend. On cue, Reverend started carrying out their plan. He got up from the armchair he was in and plopped himself beside Brody's father.
"So Hank. How is your son doing? He seems to be growing up nicely. Looks like he is taking after his father isn't he?' the Reverend joked. Hank responded with a look of pride and smiled.
"He sure does Reverend. My boy is my blood all right. He is a good boy. Does everything he's told. He is growing up to be a fine man."
Hank was slurring his words. He blinked slowly as he watched the Reverend grab one of his pecs and give it a squeeze.
"You think Brody has a chest like yours?" The Reverend's hand was still on Hank's chest.
"I don't know actually. I always taught the boy to be modest with his body."
"That's nonsense Hank. A good father should always keep track of his son's developments. All the other fathers of my athletes do it. You need to mold him into the man you want him to be. It's the Christian thing to do. And there isn't any modesty between fathers and sons. He came from your seed Hank, remember that. Brody belongs to you."
Coach let Hank mull over what he said for a few seconds. It looked like Hank was trying to process what he was just told. Before he had any more time to think, Coach continued with his spiel.
"I think we should bring Brody down. Don't you think so Reverend?"
The Reverend nodded yes excitedly and proceeded upstairs, not even waiting for the boy's father to reply.
He opened Brody's door to find the jock buried under his covers. Brody almost looked relieved to see that it was not his father barging into the room. But his relief was short lived as he felt the sheets covering him being yanked off.
Reverend James looked down at Brody with lust-filled eyes. Even though he had fucked all the orifices of the jock in front of him, the sight of the perfectly muscled teen made him as aroused as ever. He put his hand into Brody's jockstrap and felt the flood of slime that Brody had shot earlier. He removed his cum covered hand and moved it to his slut's mouth. Brody started licking it clean without any further instructions. The older man smiled as he repeated this a few more times until all of Brody's cum was cleaned up.
He then bent down and kissed Brody gently as his hands started twisting the slut's nipples as hard as he could. Brody screamed at the pain. But any sounds he tried to make were muted by the sloppy kiss he was giving the Reverend. He reached between Brody's cheeks and yanked out the embedded plug in one go, prompting another muffled shriek.
He continued to torture the jock's tits for a few more minutes. He finally stopped and admired his handiwork. Brody's over-sensitized nipples were pink and puffy. They stood proudly out of Brody's meaty pecs. The Reverend ran his hands over the swollen nipples a few more times as they hardened even more.
Satisfied at their condition, Reverend James hurried into the jock's closet and found a box that said "Donations". He rummaged inside and found an old white muscle shirt and worn out grey sweatpants.
"Take the strap off and put these on."
Brody did as he was told. The clothes were almost two years old and did not fit him at all. The shirt clung to him like spandex and barely reached his navel. His recently worked over nipples were clearly visible through the white fabric. The sweatpants were almost two sizes too small. So the already thin fabric was stretched out even more. They hugged his thighs and calves like paint. They just covered Brody's blonde bush. His cock, though soft, was already bulging out the front obscenely. The fabric in the back rode up Brody's ass crack. It was abundantly clear that Brody had a perfect bubble butt.
The Reverend looked back and admired the outfit he selected. He reached forward and gave Brody's package a few squeezes, causing the slut's cock to plump up.
"There! Now you look perfect. Just like the whore you truly are."
Brody barely had time to feel the sting of his abuser's words when he felt himself being dragged outside his room. He pleaded with whispers as the Reverend took him downstairs.
Coach almost creamed his pants when he saw the outfit that the Reverend had put the slut in. Every step Brody took was causing his semi-hard package to flop around all over the place. Hank looked up and smiled stupidly.
"Ain't those clothes a bit tight for you boy?"
Brody started to stammer out a response before Coach interjected.
"It's fine Hank. I told him to wear tighter clothes. It'll help with his muscle tone."
That explanation seemed to satisfy Hank as he reached for another beer.
"Well Brody. It seems that I have messed up on one of fatherly duties. Your coach here is going to explain it to me. He says that all the team's fathers have been helping the boys with the measurements except me. Why haven't you told me about it son?"
Brody was completely confused. What sick trick were his tormentors up to now?
Coach was struggling to contain his hard on. The plan he had concocted with the Reverend was progressing perfectly. He slowly pulled out a measuring tape and a notebook.
"Why don't you have a seat Reverend? I will show Hank what measurements he needs to take."
The Reverend was glad to be sitting down. He too was sporting a large erection and he needed to hide it while the show took place.
Coach watched Brody's clueless father get up unsteadily. He could not handle his alcohol at all. Brody was still standing motionless. There were beads of sweat running down the side of his face. This was by the far the worst situation he was in yet. He felt like any minute his father would realize that his son was a bitch for the other men in the room.
He watched his father stagger towards him while Coach stood at his side. He felt Coach's hand reach over and squeeze one of his ass cheeks. He leaned slightly and whispered.
"Play along slut and I'll make sure your father does not find out what you have been up to."
Brody gulped and nodded to show he understood. His father was now facing him. The stench of alcohol from his breath was overpowering.
"Ok Hank. I'll tell you what to measure. Take this tape."
Hank fumbled and dropped the measuring tape. He picked it back up, finding his clumsiness especially humorous.
"All right Hank. You ok? Good. To get an accurate measurement, Brody needs to take his shirt off. But like you said, the boy is really shy. I am ok with the measurements with the shirt on. But I got to say Hank. Your boy hides himself in the locker room like a girl. You need to teach him to man up about his body."
Hank looked like he had been personally insulted. There was no way his son was going to be the team sissy.
"You heard your coach boy! Take off your shirt!" Hank roared at Brody, who flinched at the outburst.
Knowing he had no choice, Brody blushed and took off his shirt. It was the second time in as many weeks that he was being exposed to his own father. Coach took note of Brody's inflamed nipples and gave the Reverend knowing smile. The Reverend was proving to be a perfect accomplice.
Hank looked at his bare-chested son and gave a proud nod. He looked at Coach, awaiting instructions.
Coach recomposed himself and started telling Hank what to measure. First the biceps, then Brody's calves. Hank was then made to measure his son's impressive chest. The Reverend rubbed himself discreetly as Coach gave special instructions to the boy's father.
"You need to make sure that the tape goes over Brody's titsÉerr...I mean nipples when you measure his chest. And do it three times to be sure."
Luckily, Hank was too out of it to have caught Coach's slipup. Brody bit his lip as his father's shaky hands kept grazing his nipples. After the torture they had gone through, even the slightest touch sent pain radiating through his pecs.
"Ok, now measure his waist. A bit lower. A bit more. Yes, that's perfect."
Brody felt his father measuring his waist right where his bush started. As Hank fumbled with the tape measure, he kept touching the few hairs that were peeking out from under the sweatpants. Brody tried to look away and pretend like he was someplace else.
"Ok Hank, now the last and most important measurements for a wrestler. His thighs. You need to measure them at the right spot. Here, let me show you."
Brody scrunched up his face in shame as he felt Coach guiding his father's hands to his inner thighs. And every time his father tried to get a measurement, his hand would rub against the jock's cockhead. The thin material separating his father's hand from his manhood was almost non-existent. Brody was horrified to realize that he was getting hard from his father's touch.
Hank giggled in his drunken stupor. "My boy is becoming a man alright," he joked.
Brody was mortified to hear his father that way. If his father was sober, he would have been yelled at for simply having lustful feelings. He hoped his father would have no recollection of all this tomorrow.
Now that his cock was slightly harder, it was coming into contact with his father's hands even more frequently. Brody dug his nails into his palms, hoping that the pain would soften his cock. And it worked to a degree. After several more attempts of measuring his thighs, at Coach's insistence of course, the ordeal was over. Hank looked over the measurements he took and yawned. He sat back down on the couch.
"All right Nate. I'll do this every week like you wanted. But if I am away on business, please take the measurements yourself. You have been so helpful to me. I don't know how to thankÉ"
Hank's voice trailed off as he passed out from all the alcohol.
"Well that turned out better than we hoped," Reverend James remarked.
Coach grinned and nodded. He turned his attention to the shirtless hunk, who was still blushing from his experience. He grabbed Brody's arm and pulled him in for a kiss. Brody bucked wildly, his panicked eyes looking at his sleeping father. Coach slapped his slut's ass and resumed the kiss.
Brody then felt the Reverend's hands peel the skintight sweatpants down his legs. He could not believe what was happening. They were right in front of his father!
But the two older men knew exactly what they were doing. This was the final part of their plan. Coach knew that in order to be a true slut-pig, Brody needed to be pushed further every once in a while. And what was more scandalous than being stuffed by cock in front of his own father?
Brody was near tears as he felt the Reverend sink his tongue into the jock's cunt. Coach had reached down and was stroking his slut. Despite how badly Brody felt about the situation, he moaned at the lapping at his hole and accompanying hand job.
The Reverend replaced his tongue with his own hard cock and pushed it in. Brody gasped as it touched the special spot inside of him. Coach got completely naked and sat down on the couch beside Brody's father. His father's clothed leg was resting against Coach's hairy thighs. Coach put one arm around Hank's shoulder and pressed his naked body against the sleeping hunk. They could have been buddies watching a game. He beckoned his slut over with a finger.
Brody bent over and took his coach's meat in his mouth. The Reverend was still pounding him from behind. And the whole time, an oblivious Hank was sleeping as his own son was being used like a whore, mere inches from him.
Every so often, Brody would feel his fingers touch his father's leg and fresh wave of humiliation washed over him. At one point, Coach had placed Brody on all fours on the couch. His face was right next to his sleeping's father's face. Brody felt his father's beer-tinged breath on his face as he got long-dicked mercilessly by Coach's fuckstick. Brody had never felt so filthy in his life. And that was saying something, considering the past few weeks.
Brody was used like a piece of meat for the next thirty minutes. There was a constant look of panic on his face that excited his abusers even more. But of course, his own cock was completely hard and leaking. It appeared that the jock was being conditioned to love his humiliating torture.
Both men took turns on the stud's hot pussy. It gripped their cocks like it was made for fucking. Even after all the abuse it had suffered so far, Brody's pussy felt like it had been deflowered just yesterday. Brody was plowed at both ends non-stop.
Soon, both men had shot a load into their slut. Coach dumped his load straight into the slut's cunt. The Reverend chose to coat the slut's stomach with his cum instead.. The whole setup was way too erotic for them to last longer. Coach knew he had to try this again. Brody still had a terrified look on his face before he was finally allowed to bolt up the stairs.
As the two satisfied men zipped up, Coach made a mental note to tell Hank that all measurements needed to be done while Brody was in his extremely tight briefs. Coach wondered how long it would take until he could make his slave strut around naked in front of his clueless father. Or maybe even naked with a boner. Coach hoped it would be soon.
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