Disclaimer: The following is an original work of fiction that contains graphic depictions of sexual activities and erotic abuse between males. Please leave now if you are offended by such material, or if you are under the age of 18, or if you live in a community where viewing or possessing adult material is illegal. Any resemblance to any individual, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights are reserved by the author. Please download for personal use only. This story may not be posted to any other websites without the explicit permission of the author.
Comments, feedback and suggestions welcome at htown_stud713@yahoo.com
My first attempt at erotic fiction. My other favorite stories on Nifty that you should definitely check out include:
Authoritarian Bred-slave Coachs-assistant Jock-sex-slave Baseball-team-rapes-teacher My-uncles-farm Brutal-trucker-sex Executive-slave Rural-slaves Harbour-master (2000) Anything written by Luc Milne (fantastic imagination) Kyles-bitch Ball-boy (2000) Blackmale (2004) The-bazzar Raw-recruits (just plain hot) Ass-abbey (2000) Island-of-dr-monroe Frat-boys-bitch-boy Precinct-twenty-three The-hole (epic story) Black-sub
Trans: Prison Pirates-boy-bitch Birth-of-a-new-sissy Sissy-botttom-prostitue
Pussyboy Frat- Chapter 2
The team won their big game that Saturday with a final score of 29 to 19, capping a fantastic season. Jason worked through it all in a fog, convinced that the entire team had been told of what had happened in the locker room with him and Peter, but no one seemed to act any differently towards him. Peter and Coach Simmons were both too focused on the game to pay him much attention. Afterwards, in the locker room, as the team celebrated their win, Jason hurried through his final duties, throwing the laundry on the wash and slipping out to hurry home unseen. The last thing he wanted was to be caught alone in the locker room with Peter or the coach.
The coming days and weeks at school and home were a torturous hell for Jason. He just knew at any moment he would be called to the principal's office or that rumors would start to surface about him. At home, every time the phone rang he jumped, convinced it was a call to Craig to tell him what his stepson had been caught doing at school. Coming home from school was the worst, not knowing if the school had called and talked to Craig while Jason wasn't there to intercept the call. At school, his strategy was one of avoidance. He tried to stay away from the entire athletic wing of the campus which was Coach Simmons' territory, and where Peter spent a lot of time. Jason even skipped going to the football team awards banquet, where the team photos and trophies were distributed. The couple of times that he did pass Coach Simmons in the hall, the coach would simply stare at him, not saying a word, as Jason hurried past with his eyes down cast. When he passed Peter, he was just ignored.
During the coming weeks, nothing seemed to change in his school routines. Even as the holiday's passed and the spring term started, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The most punishment that Jason received was self-inflicted. He silently berated himself, telling himself how stupid he'd been, how it was all a mistake. He stressed out as he tried to come up with a good story that would explain it all, but couldn't. He tossed and turned at night, making promises to himself that he would never do anything like that again, if he could just be spared from any consequence or having to admit what he'd done. Still, during this time, Jason did jerk off on several occasions thinking about the view of Peter's grinning face, looking down at him past his firm pecs and rock-hard abs, as Jason remembered the feel of Peter's orbs on his tongue, the taunt scrotum and the incredible smell emanating from behind Peter's sack.
Months went by and Jason slowly began to relax. He fell into a school routine, studying harder than ever, keeping his nose in the books and spending most of his time in the library. For lack of anything better to do, he took the SATs and did well, better than most of his classmates. At the encouragement of Miss Moore, his guidance counselor, Jason applied for state college. He and Miss Moore were both thrilled when the acceptance letter came back, along with an offer of a scholarship that would cover three-fourths of his tuition. It still wouldn't be enough for Jason to attend, but it was nice to be accepted, and he didn't want to disappoint Miss Moore, who had always been nice to him. He didn't know what he'd do after high school. Craig had offered to try and get him a job at the packing plant.
Jason was finishing his history class one afternoon in late April when the school secretary's voice came over the P.A. system, uttering words that filled him with panic.
"Jason Stillwell to Coach Simmons' office. Jason Stillwell, report to Coach Simmons office immediately".
All of the fears that Jason had almost forgotten came welling up inside of him. It had been almost six months since he'd said anything to the coach, but he remembered his parting words. 'I'll deal with you. Later.' It looked like 'later' had finally arrived. Jason knew that he couldn't run and couldn't hide. Maybe he could just talk to the coach, tell him it all a joke or a misunderstanding. He was still working on a story when he reached the coach's office deep in the empty locker room. Taking a deep breath, Jason knocked on the door.
"Come in".
Simmons was behind his desk. Jason's sense of panic doubled when he saw another man sitting in one of the two chairs in the coach's office. He was sure it was a cop.
"Ah Jason, come in, come in. Have a seat," the coach said, his voice pleasant. "I haven't seen you around lately".
"Yeah, um, sorry about that," Jason said as he sat down. "I've just been really buys with school and all."
"Of course. You always were a good student and a hard worker. Always eager to please, weren't you?" the coach asked.
"Yeah, I guess so," Jason replied, trying to avoid eye contact.
"Tell me Jason," Simmons continued, "what are your plans after graduation?"
"Um, I'm not sure yet coach. I'll probably look for a job around town somewhere."
"I understand you were accepted at State and received a significant scholarship. Is that true?"
"Um, yeah that's right," Jason replied. So far the conversation wasn't progressing anything like he'd envisioned. He took a moment to glance at the other man, who hadn't said a word but was staring at him intently. He was in his late 40's with dark hair just starting to grey at the temples. He was tan, and appeared trim and athletic. He had a sharp, hawk-like nose upon which rested a pair or rimless glasses. He was very well dressed in what looked like an expensive suit and watch.
"Why not go to college, make something of your life?" the coach asked.
"Well, um we don't, I mean my stepdad and I don't have a lot of money. The scholarship would cover most of the tuition, but not books or room and board. I don't have a car, so I can't commute. Maybe someday I'll go."
"So you do want to go to college, correct?"
"Sure coach, like I said, someday. Maybe. Why?"
"Jason, this is Mr. Grayson," the coach said, nodding towards the other man. "He and I have been talking and have worked out an offer that I think you may be interested in. Mr. Grayson is the headmaster for a small, very exclusive boarding house for young men with special 'aptitudes' as they attend school. It's located just a few minutes off of campus, if I'm not mistaken."
"That's correct," Mr. Grayson spoke. His voice sounded like it was straining to be pleasant. "I've reviewed your record and I'm impressed so far. I think you'll fit in nicely."
"What kind of house is it?" Jason asked. This was the last thing he had expected.
"It's a well established home for special young men, where we've nurtured and developed unique talents and abilities for many years," Mr. Grayson said, speaking slowly and choosing his words carefully. "We think of ourselves as a very special fraternity were we provide a structured and disciplined environment as our pupils are encouraged to develop and strengthen their abilities. We also have a large range of supporters who take an active interest in our students and our alumni."
Jason had never thought he'd ever go to college, let alone join a fraternity. "How big is it?"
Mr. Grayson smiled slightly to himself, finding something amusing. "You'll find out how big 'it' is soon enough. If you're referring to the home, we only accept six students a year and we only have one vacancy left in this year's class. You'll be assigned an older student, a junior, who will act as your mentor and help you with life in the house and at school. You should also know that we have a 100% graduation rate and a 100% employment rate within 30 days of graduation. Our student's have gone on to successful careers in the fields of business, law, government and entertainment."
"This is a unique opportunity Jason," Mr. Grayson continued. "The Frat, as it's known, will give you room and board and we've agreed to cover the other 25% of your tuition costs. We'll even cover your books. In addition, we will place $200 a month into an account for when you have graduate. It doesn't sound like much, but after four years, with interest, it comes to a little over $10,000 for you to begin your career with."
"$10,000?" Jason asked. He'd never thought he'd have that much just in cash.
"Let's just say that we have many wealthy benefactors who have a keen interest in our students and their development," Mr. Grayson said, again smiling to himself.
The coach was smiling too. "So Jason, are you interested?" he asked.
"Yeah coach, it sounds great! I can't believe it." Jason was getting more and more excited as the conversation had progressed. He walked into the office thinking he was in trouble, and now may have a chance to actually go to college.
"Believe it," Mr. Grayson said. "As I said earlier, we think you'll make a fine addition. You have a lot of the qualities we're looking for." Reaching into a briefcase beside his chair, Mr. Grayson pulled out a thick stack of papers. "I'll just need you to sign these."
"What are they?"
"Oh, just the standard housing, medical and contractual agreements we require of all our students," Mr. Grayson said, trying to make the stack of forms sound trivial. "One thing you'll find about college is there's lots and lots of paperwork to fill out."
"Well, okay," Jason said, looking at the first couple of pages. "Can I have them back to you early next week? I'd like to go over these with my step dad."
"I'm afraid I need you to sign these today, before I leave."
"Besides," said Coach Simmons, "you're eighteen now and a bright boy. You can sign anything legally. You don't need to anyone to give you permission to sign something."
"I know," Jason said, lifting up the stack of papers. If felt heavy. "It's just that I'd really feel more comfortable if I had a chance to look through these. I've always heard not to sign anything unless you read and understand it."
"A wise position," Mr. Grayson said. "But again, I need you to sign these today, now, before I leave." He looked at his watch. "I need to get back and begin preparation for a new school year. There's so much to do."
"Yeah, I'll bet," Jason said. Still trying to understand the first page of the stack. "Still, I'm not sure..."
"Mr. Grayson, would you excuse us for a few minutes please?" Coach Simmons asked. As Mr. Grayson stood and walked out the of the office, the coach turned to Jason. "What's the problem?" he asked, his voice sounding impatient.
"Nothing," Jason said, now beginning to feel a little nervous now that he was alone in the room with the coach. "I'd just really feel more comfortable if I had a chance to look through these and know what they are before I sign them, that's all."
"Jason, you need to sign these here and now, before you leave this office."
"I'm just not sure coach. I mean, it sounds like a great opportunity, don't get me wrong. I'm just not sure if I should sign a bunch of documents on the spur of the moment."
"Oh, I'm sure that you should," The coach said as he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a large manila envelope and handed it to Jason. "Here, you never did pick up your team photos. Go ahead and open it."
Jason took the envelope and pulled out a stack of photos. The first couple were the standard team photo with the players arranged in a group. Then Jason looked deeper into the stack and recoiled in horror. In his hand was a photo of him in the laundry room with a jockstrap pressed to his face. His eyes were closed and his erection, although small, was clearly visible in his hand. The next photo showed him shooting his load over the collection of clothes in the hamper, and the one after that showed him masturbating with Peter's jockstrap wrapped around his cock. The next showed him smelling a jockstrap with pearls of cum pooling in the pouch of the garment. The final two showed him on his knees in front of Peter. The first showed his face buried in the V of Peter's crotch and these second showed his face covered in glistening ropes of sticky white cum. It was the first time that Jason had seen exactly how much had been dumped on his face, and while it was a lot, it was clearly him under the load. Peter's semi-hard, dripping cock still hung over his face. He knew it was Peter, but no one else would. The photo had been cropped and there was no face or distinguishing mark that could identify the other individual. Only Jason and the penis could be seen.
All of the pictures were clear and crisp. The angle suggested that they had been taken from the ceiling above the laundry equipment, where there was a tangle of water and steam pipes.
"After our last equipment manager was let go for theft while the players were on the field, I decided to put some hidden cameras in the locker room," the coach explained. "Never know what you'll see. Imagine my surprise when my new manager turned out to have a little athletic supporter fetish. It was clear that after every practice or game you were looking for a particular player's jockstrap and it wasn't hard to figure out who it was. Not many guys can stretch out a pouch like Mr. Bruce. Besides, I've seen the way you stare in the locker room as he gets undressed."
The coach picked up a remote from his desk and turned on the TV/VCR combo that he used to review plays and games with the team. "Of course, if anyone ever does want to confirm who the other player is, there's always this."
The screen warmed up and filled in with a video image, shot from roughly the same angle as the photos were taken, of Jason on his knees, clearly in front of Peter Bruce. Peter's head was thrown back, his lips were moving silently and his hands were on his hips. That surprised Jason, who had convinced himself that Peter's powerful grip had been forcing him to lick the stud's sack the entire time. Now, on the screen, he was doing it of his own free will.
The coach turned the TV off and set the remote down. "I set up the camera just to capture that little performance of my pansy-assed equipment manager blowing the star running back! Really Jason, is that what you thought of when you applied for the job and heard that you'd be handling the player's equipment? I never guessed you'd be so eager to entice poor Peter back to the laundry room and take advantage of him."
"But it was mutual!" Jason protested. "I mean, it wasn't even mutual, he forced me to do it!"
"Didn't look like it to me. Besides, even if it's true, it doesn't matter," the coach said, leaning back in his chair, obviously in complete control of the situation. Jason's accusation of assault didn't seem to faze the coach one bit. "Doesn't matter at all. Your birthday is in October, correct?"
"Yeah, October 13th. Why?"
"Do you know when Peter's is?"
"Sometime in March."
"March 6th," the coach confirmed. "You're a smart kid, can you do the math?"
Jason tried to see where the coach was going with, but the pictures and the videos had severely impacted his ability to think.
The coach smiled, like a poker player laying his fourth ace on the table. "You were 18 at the time this video was taken, Peter was only 16. You're little encounter in the laundry room was HIGHLY illegal. Society frowns on sexual predators in the schools."
"WHAT?!? That's crazy!! It wasn't my fault!! He forced me to!!"
"Did he force you to jerk off while sniffing his dirty jock too?"
Jason had forgotten about that image. He opened his mouth to protest, but no sound came out.
The coach grinned like a predator. "The photos are enough to get you expelled from school, just two months shy of graduation. If we go to the police with this 'newly discovered' video evidence, you'll be tried as an adult and sent to prison. You know what happens to weak young men in prison, don't you? You need to understand Jason that I have no interest at all in that happening to you, none at all. The opportunity that Mr. Grayson is offering you will make everybody's, I mean, will make all YOUR problems go away."
"What about Peter? Is he going to this frat too?"
The coach got a disgusted look on his face. "Worried about your boyfriend?" he said mockingly. "You just don't get it do you? What you need to understand boy is that Peter is on a different level than you are, socially, economically, developmentally and as a male. He has a bright future ahead of him. He's going to college on a football scholarship. It's all been arranged. After he'd done a special favor for me, I called in a favor with his top college choice and got him a spot. He'll probably play ball for four years, and screwing every coed in sight, eventually bagging some homecoming queen as a wife, and go on with his life without giving you a second thought. Besides, why should his life be ruined? Think about it; there's no proof he did anything wrong, it's his word and these photos against your word. I'll even give him an alibi, saying we were reviewing game footage when you were fagging it up in the laundry room with some 'unknown' student. Even if it ever did come out that it was Peter's crotch you were burying your face in, his dad has the legal and financial connections to keep him out of trouble. Does yours? No? I didn't think so."
Jason didn't know if he wanted to cry or throw up. He'd gone from dread to elation to the depths of dread again, all in the last 15 minutes. He couldn't think clearly, hell he couldn't think at all. His mind had just completely shut down as it tried to assimilate all the new information he was receiving.
The coach sat down next to Jason and put his arm around the stunned youth. "Jason," he said in a patient voice, "a person's life is all about choices. You're now at the point where you need to make a choice, but in a way you're very lucky because it's already clear what the best option is. On one hand, you can go to college, get an education, learn some new skills and talents along the way and graduate with $10,000, no debt, a good paying job and the rest of your life ahead of you. On the other hand, you can be a high school reject, sent to prison where you'll certainly be beaten and raped and come out with a criminal record. Won't your stepdad be proud? 'My son, the molester!' Maybe he'll want one of these photos to hang on the wall. You'll be labeled a sex offender, something that will never go away. Every job, apartment or loan application it will come up. You'll be lucky to get a shit hole apartment in the bad part of town and job at a convenience store, what with no high school diploma and all. Oh, and don't forget the mandatory sex offender warning sign you'll have to put on your door, warning the parents not to let their kiddies get too close. Now, before you leave this office, one of those paths will be taken. Besides, I've worked too hard on this arrangement to have you fuck it up at the last minute." The coach pushed a pen between Jason's fingers. "Now, SIGN!!"
For the next fifteen minutes, Jason numbly signed his name and initials over and over as he worked his way through the stack of papers. He skimmed what he could and managed to catch several words and phrases, but the legalese didn't mean much to him.
'Declaration of intent....medical release.... waiver of rights..... consent to procedure....power of attorney.....contractual relationship.....agreement for terms of service.....agreement for forfeiture.... testament of aptitude and soundness o f mind...basis for contractual relationship....affidavits....terms of provisional guardianship ....contracts .... resolutions ....waivers'. It just went on and on. Several of the forms were even blank, and the coach just shrugged, saying that they'd be filled in later.
The final form was a copy of his college acceptance letter and his notice of intent to attend. "Didn't think we'd forget that did you?" the coach asked smiling. "I got a copy from Miss Moore." He took the stack of papers off of the desk and seemed to visibly relax. Pulling Jason to his feet, he opened the door to the office. "Mr. Grayson? Thank you for being so patient. Jason and I have talked it over and he's wholeheartedly decided to accept your offer."
"Excellent," Mr. Grayson said as he took the stack of papers from the coach's hand and put them back in his briefcase. "You've made the right choice son. Believe me, going to college is an exciting time in a young person's life, and you're in for a more exciting time than most. You have a bright future ahead of you Jason. Now, someone will be in contact mid-summer to make all the arrangements. You'll need to be at the frat house three weeks before school starts for orientation."
With that, Mr. Grayson checked his watch, said goodbye to the coach, and hurried out of the locker room. Coach Simmons, walked back into his office and closed the door. Jason was alone, trying to comprehend what had just happened and the strange new direction his life appeared to be going in.