Disclaimer: This story is basically a fantasy involving humiliation, mild violence, and sexual activity between teenage boys. If you find such material offensive or in violation of the laws of your state/country, please don't read any further. Remember to practice safe sex: this story is a fantasy in which STDs don't exist!
(c) Art M. Hill ArtHill579@aol.com All rights reserved (2004). If you enjoy this story, please email me.
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Joe Gets to Strip (part 1)
I really didn't think Mike and Jimmy were serious when I overheard them talking about "selling my ass". I mean, who would do such a thing? But I underestimated their depravity (or should I say the lengths they would go to make a buck) as well as their influence over me. They had trained me more than I realized, so that when they gave a command I hardly thought about what I was doing. I didn't even think any more about disobeying them.
I did have a sinking feeling in my gut when they told me the following Saturday that we were going back to the biker club and that we would meet Jerry, Larry, and Red there along with their buddies. That combination bode no good for me, and I suspected I was in for another face-fucking session with its accompanying humiliation. Little did I know they had much more planned for me.
Mike had ordered me once again to get permission from my parents to stay over at his house that evening, so I figured it was going to be a long night. I sighed and felt the familiar conflict going on within me. Did I want this or not? Unfortunately, my lust (what I now called my slut side) had such hold on me that I got a boner as soon as I heard where we were going.
"Look at the fag," said Jimmy, "he's so turned on by the idea of going back to the club that he's almost ready to shoot. That's good," he said to me, " cause you're gonna get a real work out tonight. You should love it."
I noticed that Mike was carrying a black leather satchel, but had no idea what was in it. "Okay Zits," Mike said, "I think we're ready; let's roll!"
I climbed on the back of Jimmy's bike and grasped him around the waist inhaling the aroma of his black leather jacket. "Watch it, fag," he said, "remember what I told you the last time about pushing you off my bike if I feel even a hint of your damn boner."
I thought Red was a reckless driver, but he didn't even compare with Jimmy. I was afraid that he didn't need to push me off, but that I would probably fall off--right along with Jimmy. My friend up front, however, was laughing like a maniac as he felt me tighten my grip at each curve, and could hear me gasp when we took corners at an insane angle. I found myself longing to reach our destination, no matter what was in store for me there, just so that I could get off that damn motorbike.
We pulled into the gravel parking lot moments later and saw a large crowd of pick-ups and motorcycles filling almost the entire parking lot. " Looks like you're gonna have a big audience tonight," Mike said mysteriously.
As soon as we entered the bar I saw, through the smoke, Jerry's crowd occupying the same corner table as last time. They waved to us and shouted greetings as we approached them.
"Hey, dudes, sup?" said Jerry. "We've been waiting for the fag to really get the show going. Why don'tcha get him ready and we'll be right in."
"Ready?" I said to Mike, "ready for what?"
"You'll see," Mike said, "now just follow me."
I followed Mike into the large back room where strippers were entertaining the mostly male audience, which was large and enthusiastic, yelling and whistling as the ladies began to peel off their clothes, one layer at a time. Some of it they simply dropped on the floor, some they threw into the crowd, which would cheer and then tussle over the flimsy garments. Music blared from loud speakers as the strippers gyrated around poles set in the floor of the stage. They would frequently approach the crowd, that would try their best to cop a feel as they stuffed money in the ladies' thongs. The strippers, however, seemed well-trained in getting their tips with a minimal amount of contact from the fans. Meanwhile the customers were guzzling down beer and hard liquor, stoking their rowdiness and lust. Bouncers stood ready on the edges of the crowd.
Several of them glared at me as I passed by with my wild pink mohawk. This was definitely a red-neck crowd through and through, I thought nervously.
Mike grinned, then took me by the arms and led me into a small dressing room to the left of the stage. At that point he opened the satchel he had been carrying. As he emptied its contents on a table I stared in disbelief. There was a pair of skin-tight brown leather pants, a billowing white shirt with ruffled cuffs, a floppy red bow tie, a sombrero, and high healed red boots with taps on them.
"Put `em on, Crawford," Mike ordered. "This is your costume for tonight."
"But Sir," I began to object, "why am I going to wear these clothes? You're not gonna send me out on the stage dressed like this, are you?"
"Hell, yes!" he shouted over the music. "Don't worry, they have fags perform here all the time, and if they're good they can make almost as much as the sluts. So you better be good `cause if you're not they'll beat the shit out of you."
"But, I've never performed before. I wouldn't know what to do" I said nervously.
"Just do what you did at my house that night when you got the tats. That was great," said Mike, beginning to lose his patience. "When they see those tats and the tit rings they won't care what you're doin. I'm hopin' somebody out there is into making porn, because man, you'd be perfect."
Resignedly, I got dressed. At that point, some real fem guy came in. He had spiked purple hair and black satin pants and matching blouse. "Honey," he said, "Let's give you a quick make-over so you really look your best. By the way: love that hair!" Mike laughed.
"What do you mean, `make over'? I asked.
"Do your eyes and lips, and put some makeup on you to cover over all those zits (Mike smirked)…I can't wait to get started on you," he lisped.
Mike just shook his head and laughed. "See ya out front, `honey'" he chuckled. "You're in good hands. Just relax and remember to rock that body."
"What's your name, honey," the girl, ah, guy asked, "mine's Maxine."
"Joe," I managed to stutter.
"Well, Joey, sit right here. I'm gonna start with your eyes so lose those glasses. Oh, your eyes are really pretty, but wait till you see what Maxine does with them."
Within fifteen minutes I had eye shadow and fake lashes, pink rouge, and brilliant red lip stick. All that color seemed to complement my mohawk, huh! To complete the picture I was given long hanging earrings and huge foam rubber boobs that I strapped on like a bra. I looked in the mirror. Although everything was a bit blurry without my glasses, I could see enough that I blushed right through the rouge!
"A little nervous, are we?" Maxine said, "here, this always helps." Before I knew what was happening she … he stuck a bottle of poppers directly under my nose and in my surprise I breathed deeply (like so many times before!) Immediately I began to feel light-headed. After another couple of snorts and I was feeling positively sexy, and almost eager to dance for that crowd of rowdy bikers.
"You're comin' up next, dear; they'll be two bitches, one on either side of you, so just take your cue from them. All you got to do is start dirty dancing to the music, and then start taking off your clothes. Do it real slow so the guys think they're getting their money's worth. Tease `em a bit and get flirty"
"But they'll think I'm a fag. This bunch looks like they'd eat a fag for a snack!"
"Now don't you worry none, hun," said Maxine. "You give `em what they want, and they'll be real nice to you."
"But how far do I go?" I said, a bit curious now. "I don't have to get naked, do I?"
"Heaven's no!" Maxine squeaked. "All you do is strip down to your panties and then shake your tush real good. And DON'T get a boner. Those guys are straight. They don't want to see your dingy. Besides we could get shut down and lose our license if you did that, so just don't get carried away. Think modesty, honey, MO-DES-TY!"
The two girls came into the dressing room to freshen up. They looked at me but said nothing, as if they were used to this kind of thing. I was feeling a little better at that point.
When the girls were ready, Maxine led us to the stage entrance. Remember Joey, you're in the middle…girls, help Joey out when you start. He's new at this. The girls shrugged and headed for the stage with me bringing up the rear.
I was kind of in a daze as I followed the girls onto the stage under the harsh lights that suddenly started swirling in different colors around us. My blurred vision didn't help.
The girls took up there positions, wrapping themselves sensuously around the poles, while I stood in the center. The music started, real slow at first and then picking up speed. There was uproarious laughter as the guys saw me for the first time. Through the haze I could see Mike, Jimmy, and the others doubled over from laughing. I don't know whether it was the poppers or maybe I discovered a hidden exhibitionist inside me, but I immediately started gyrating to the music and smiling broadly at the lusty crowd.
I felt a bit like a cross between Zorro and one of Charlie's Angels. The idea kind of turned me on, and I started thinking about what I would do next. What I somehow didn't remember at the time (blame the poppers) was the tats, and especially what they said…
Now that I was on stage, the guys were getting more and more rowdy and the bouncers were ready in case there was any kind of trouble.
I started to pick up the beat. First I pulled the sombrero way down over my face, then I pulled up the brim and looked sexily out at the crowd and winked. There were a few cat-calls and hoots, but most of the crowd seemed to be into it: they were curious to see what I would do next--so was I!
I started to get inventive. I took off my hat (causing my mohawk to spring up dramatically) and began to twirl it around. I suggestively held it over my privates as I wiggled my hips. I suddenly threw my hat into the audience and then loudly asked for the guy who caught it to throw it back. So we started to play Frisbee for awhile, much to the delight of the crowd, especially since I was stumbling in my high-heeled boots. All things considered--especially with my lack of 20/20 vision--I thought I did pretty well. When the hat wasn't returned, I figured that I needed to move on. I pulled down my boots, one at a time, twirled them around and gave them the old heave-ho, hoping I wouldn't take anyone's head off…that would have finished me off for sure. I had red nail polish on my toes (and fingers), compliments of Maxine.
Meanwhile the girls, not to be outdone, started their own strip. The guys were torn between lust for the broads and curiosity and contempt for me. They kept looking back and forth like they were at a tennis match. I smiled to myself. This might be more interesting than I thought.
The arms of my blouse were detachable, so I peeled off first one and then the other, balled them up, and threw them into the crowd. There was hysterical laughter when someone in the crowd shouted: "Shave your arms, honey!"
My pants were designed to break open at the thigh, leaving me with leather short-shorts. I pulled the hidden strings and the legs of the pants suddenly dropped away. Then I slowly shimmied out of the shorts. At this point I was definitely the center of attention. Maxine had thoughtfully provided me with frilly pink panties (almost the same color as my pubes!) and the sight of them made the guys go into hysterics. Luckily, my legs were relatively hairless or somebody would have stormed the stage for sure.
The ladies were way ahead of me with tips. Now that I had stripped down to my panties, I decided to get into the action. I swayed across the floor (mostly from the poppers) to where the guys were hanging over the stage. I leaned down and a guy grabbed my falsies and almost tore them off. I grabbed the money out of his hands while he yelled: "What kind of titties are those--they feel like a water bed! Come back here, you bitch, I wanna feel `em again!"
Now I was getting a little nervous. As I turned around the guy's buddy grabbed my ankle and tripped me. I fell down on my boobs and felt like I would bounce back up again. The guys began to haul me over toward the edge of the stage, tearing at my panties. Just then one of the bouncers intervened and pushed the rough necks back.
Now everybody wanted to feel my boobies so I made my rounds of the stage, letting each guy take a quick squeeze as he stuffed five or ten bucks in my panties. I had to keep moving or I would have ended up over some guy's shoulder. Besides, I didn't want anyone to see my pink pubes or I would've been toast for sure. Quickly I headed back to center stage.
Although I was a bit shaken by this point, I was determined to finish my act. I slowly pulled off my blouse, exposing the bulging bra. The room broke into deafening laughter when I unhooked the bra and threw it into the crowd where there was a mad scramble for it. I heard a few cries of "fuckin' fag" but, for the most part, the crowd was taking the whole thing more good-naturedly than I had expected.
Now came the moment of truth. I started to take off the last piece of clothing protecting my tats (which I suddenly remembered) and tit rings. But I had to do it. If I didn't I was afraid Mike and Jimmy would beat me within an inch of my life and then rip the tee off anyway. All of those thoughts were going through my head as I slowly raised my tee.
All of a sudden the spotlight cut down to a narrow beam which was focused directly on me. Mike or Jimmy must have cued in the light guy. Now I was truly the center of attention. Out of the corners of my eyes I could see the girls almost pouting since they had literally been left in the dark. I began to think I might be better off if I was there too! For a moment the silence was almost deafening. Then I heard Mike shout: "Turn around you wuss and show `em what you got!"
(to be continued)