For anyone who enjoyed my first story "Getting in Shape" I am finally getting around to my prequel. For anyone interested in writing to me, I have a new e-mail address now - brymant@yahoo.com. My first story, which was mostly, but not entirely fantasy, was written in the first person. This may confuse the reader who thought I was the bottom in the story, in fact, I was the top, Christopher. This second story --one which is actually autobiographical - reveals the actual circumstances of how I came to be, initially against my will, involved in BDSM.
Chapter One:
As a typical eighteen year old college male, I was profoundly disinterested in my academics. I was a hot-blooded heterosexual freshman enjoying all of the freedoms of college life. I partied and fooled around every weekend and the close of the fall semester my lifestyle was catching up with me. My dismal midterm grades had necessitated my talking to my professors and making arrangements to salvage the semester. I'd already been in for three insufferable appointments.
My last class each day was one that a friend had advised me to take "History of the Motion Picture" my friend told me it would be a piece of cake. I thought it sounded interesting, and that all I'd have to do is sit around and watch movies. Well, both of us had been wrong. It was NOT easy, and the movies we did get to watch were boring, old silent films. The professor wasn't particularly interesting and I hadn't paid much attention to him until I stopped him after class that day and asked him what I needed to do to get my grades up. He got kind of a funny look on his face and asked me to follow him up to his office.
Once in his tiny office cluttered with papers, books, and videotapes, he started searching around for my midterm exam to go over with me. He reached past me and opened a metal file cabinet which slid open rapidly and nailed me right in the crotch. When I recoiled, he stepped across to me and immediately placed his hand on my private parts and said "Oh, wow, I'm sorry, I wouldn't want to hurt that nice big basket, I've been enjoying it ever since you first walked into class."
Whoa! All of my alarms went off at once and I backed away from him. What the hell is a "basket?" I wanted to ask but even more I wanted to know why he was touching me in a place that no male ever had before. I was so young and naive that it took me a few seconds to realize that he had to be an honest to goodness fag that I'd heard of before, but had never actually met! I was half repulsed and half incredulous.
"Get back man, I'm not into that kind of thing" I finally sputtered after an incredibly long and awkward moment. I felt like I ought to punch him or something, but he was a grown-up and my professor. Even after that, I felt his hand linger and squeeze for a split second before he stepped back behind his desk. Flustered and apologetic he exclaimed, "Oh, wow, I'm sorry, something made me think maybe you were."
What the hell? That statement was going to bug me for a long time! What had possibly made him think that? I'd never even seen a real live fag, let alone been interested in any of the sick, twisted things they did with each other. My friends and I had always called one another "fag" in high school as a put down, but no one had ever actually taken it seriously, nor mistaken me for one. I was plenty masculine, wasn't I? Where did this guy get off thinking I was anything but a normal guy?
"I'm terribly sorry Mr. Thompson." He stated again, reverting to his formal classroom demeanor and pushing his mop of brown hair back out of his face. He stumbled over his thoughts and words for another moment, and then said "So, you wanted to discuss raising your grade, how about if I buy you a drink to show you there are no hard feelings and we can discuss an extra credit project."
I concurred, I still needed to be on this guy's good side even if he was a flaming faggot. We went to a nice little bar close to campus and he very politely set up an extra report for me and was actually very helpful. After we set that up, we continued to have beers and began to discuss music, sports, college life. Dr. Hutchinson turned out to actually be a pretty good guy, and after quite a few rounds of beers, I got a nice buzz and actually forgot about the crotch grabbing incident. Live and let live I figured. As the night wore on, the Doc actually bought me dinner - which was pretty cool due to my limited budget. I had some more brews with me meal and by the time we got up to leave I was definitely buzzed and it was late.
"Oh shit!" I exclaimed as I stumbled out the door. The zero tolerance policy on freshmen drinking! If I went back to the dorm like this, I'd be in more trouble besides my academic problems. When I explained what was wrong to the Doc, he also felt chagrined, "I didn't think about you being a freshman - I could be in trouble too for buying you all those drinks."
He didn't seem buzzed at all and in fact helped to steady me a few times as we walked to the parking lot. "How about if you come back to my place and have some coffee and either watch TV or sleep it off? I can drive you back to your dorm later."
My mind was hazy but not so much so that I let down all of my defenses, it came back to me that this was the same guy who'd tried to get into my pants a few hours ago. I hesitated before answering. "Hey man, I won't try anything again, I promise." He laughed. "What do you think?, an egg-headed 40 year old like me could actually force himself on a big strapping kid like you?"
I laughed along with him and agreed. But still, did I catch that same glint in his eye as when I'd first asked him about what I could do to improve my grade? I had to be imagining it, or at any rate, I was too drunk to care.
Chapter Two:
A few minutes later, we stumbled into his condo near the campus. It was definitely a nice place - big screen TV, fireplace, big black leather sofa. "Hey, this is the life man" I exclaimed and thought to myself, no wonder this college is so damn expensive if he can afford to live like this! True to his word, he was a perfect gentleman, flipped on the TV for me and went to change clothes and brew some coffee for me.
We watched TV in front of the fireplace and continued to have a nice talk. Somehow though the alcoholic haze I was in seemed to get thicker rather than go away. I started to feel so warm and cozy and sleepy.
"Do you mind if I just crash on your couch tonight Doc?" I asked him, although it seemed like my words were all garbled.
Doc agreed and brought me another cup of coffee, I reached for it but was so zoned out that I missed and the hot coffee spilled all over my jeans. That jolted me out of my stupor at least momentarily. I grabbed hold of them and tried to yank down on the scalding, wet fabric, but they were too tight.
"Oh, man, I'm so sorry Bryan, let me help you." The good professor pulled off my sneakers and then took hold of my jeans from the cuffs and pulled them down. "I'll throw these into the dryer for you" he said as he laid a blanket over me and walked out of the room.
Before I passed out, I had just enough time to think to myself, How the hell did I end up in my underwear in a fag's apartment? But I was too groggy to worry about it, I'd just get my pants back and get the hell out of there in the morning before he had a chance to try and touch me again!
But it wasn't morning when I awoke, it was sometime during the middle of the night. I was still under the blanket, looking at the fireplace. Shit, I was suddenly sober and enormously cramped and uncomfortable. I'm getting out of here, I said to myself and started to get up.
What the hell? I couldn't move! I couldn't move my arms or legs! I tried to lunge forward but succeeded only in shifting enough that the blanket fell off of me. I will never forget what I saw next...