A frat bully hides a humiliating secret.

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Steve sidled quietly into the corner of the showers, his back turned to the rest of the team, his usually raucous personality distinctly absent. He stood facing the wall as he washed the mud of his first practice session in a week from his skin.

Behind him, his team mates laughed and joked without him. Then someone noticed that he was not engaged in the ribald conversation.

“He banged her back doors in eh Steve?” Austin said, repeating the final line of the crude joke he’d just told.

“Yeah, nice,” Steve mumbled, not turning to face the speaker.

A couple of the guys looked at each other with frowns. Usually Steve was the first to join in when the conversation turned crude. He loved to boast about all the girls he’d screwed and in exactly which positions. Their privacy was irrelevant to him – they were just numbers in the never-ending conquest tally sheet he kept in his head.

“Hey Steve, what’s up? You’ve been quiet today.”

“He’s probably thinking about some ho he’s gonna be fucking tonight, eh Steve? Steve?”

“No, I’m still not feeling 100 percent today.”

He’d been off school all week.

“Anyway, I hate Mondays,” Steve lied.

“He’s prob’ly thinking about some guy, anyway, you fucking ass bandit,” another guy chimed in laughing.

The other team members laughed at the suggestion. Gay jokes were a constant part of their exchanges.

“Fuck you Carter,” Steve said without humour.

“Hey fuck you Steve, you miserable motherfucker,” Carter retorted.

Carter leaned out of the shower and picked up his towel. He quickly span it into a single thin cord then whipped it out towards Steve’s ass. There was a crack as the towel snapped at perfect range, causing an instant welt on Steve’s buttock. Even to a hardy football player like him, the sharp pain in his buttock was enough to cause a reaction. He jumped and turned, instinctively thrusting his pelvis out away from the pain. The other young men in the shower were watching the line of the towel as it travelled towards his butt, but now they were treated to a truly inscrutable sight.

“What the fuck have you done to yourself?!” Jason asked, speaking the words that everyone else was thinking.


Usually Steve was the kind of guy who walked into the showers with his hands on his hips, unconsciously, and sometimes deliberately showing off his genitals. He was proud of them. He had a thick penis, 6 inches soft, and a heavy pair of low-hanging balls beneath. He’d been shaving down there since the age of 15. He meticulously kept his pubis and balls baby-smooth “to show off the meat to the ladies” as he put it. Although he wouldn’t admit it, he even used women’s hair removal cream to get rid of any trace of five O’clock shadow above his dick, but now he wished he’d left his hair in tact so that there was something to distract from what he was displaying.

He turned away, but the guys had already glimpsed his secret and they were like sharks that had picked up the taste of blood in the water. At first a couple of them moved to his side as he turned away again, trying to hide himself. He cupped his hands to his groin to shield himself from their eyes, modest for the first time since his father commented at the age of 8 whilst bathing him, about how well hung he was.


“Fucking hell Stevie,” the man had said, “You’ve got a hell of a cock on you for your age. Gonna make a lot of girls happy with that when you’re older.”

Young Steve looked down at himself. His penis at the time was the length and thickness of his father’s pinky finger, slender but two or three times the length of his peers. He had no concept of how important his penis would become to him, nor how it would make girls happy, but his father’s pride was obvious and it made Steve happy to elicit such pride from the man. He smiled.

“Why dad?” he asked.

“Girls like a big one. Fills ‘em up more when you put it inside ‘em.”

“Inside?” Steve asked, mystified, “How?”

Steve looked at the floppy finger dangling between his legs.

“You gotta make it hard first.”

Steve frowned.


“Yeah, then you stick it in their cooch and away you go.”

“Cooch? How do I make it hard?”

“Ask your brother.”

Steve thought about his 12-year-old brother Bud. The boy was like a god to him. Nearly a man in his eyes. Worldly wise. He determined that he would ask about his father’s words that night before bed…


“Come on Steve, what are you hiding?” Jason asked.

“Fuck off and leave me alone, I’m not in the mood,” Steve said, hoping his aggressive surliness would be enough to warn them off. But he knew better. He’d been in their position too many times and he’d never showed any mercy.


He thought about the kids they’d humiliated just a month ago. He and his friends had seen them holding hands as they walked home from school. Two boys aged about 14 or 15. Little faggots! They jumped them, stripped them naked, then tied them back to back to a thin tree using their own clothes. One of the boys, the smaller one with a slight frame and a longish hair cut reminiscent of Justin Bieber’s when he was a kid, looked terrified and embarrassed in equal measure. The other one had a really small dick, and he looked furious at the indignity. His more sensitive friend (if Steve was the kind of guy who noticed the emotional state of others,) looked on the verge of tears. But these were not issues that concerned Steve or his friends in the slightest. They taunted and insulted the boys, even taking photos. Then when they had tired of their sport, they walked on, leaving the teenagers to their humiliation, tied tight, to await discovery and rescue by strangers.


Then on Friday night, Steve got his first dose of empathy. He climbed out of his car at his father’s lumber yard after school ready to put in a few hours work. Out of nowhere, a sack was thrown over his head. He struggled but before he could fight off his attackers, his arms were tied to his sides and he was bundled into the back of a van and whisked away.

“Who are you? What do you want?!” Steve screamed, angry at first, but increasingly afraid in the face of his captor’s silence.

After 20 minutes of travel, he was dragged from the van. He hit the floor with a thud, as his captors carelessly pulled him onto the ground and wriggled like a caterpillar struggling to escape a cocoon.


He felt himself being pulled across the ground, and correctly assessed that he was still outdoors. The ground beneath him was a mixture of dirt and pine needles. He felt himself being lifted back to his feet.

“Don’t move,” a voice that sounded older than him cautioned.

To Steve’s dismay, he felt his joggers and underwear being cut away.

“What the fuck are you doing? Who are you? Have I pissed you off?”

Steve tried to think of someone he might have pissed off but he quickly realised there were too many to count. Girls he’d treated as discardable, kids he’d bullied and tormented, even random strangers on the street that he and his friends had abused and terrorised.

Without answering, Steve’s captors started tying ropes around his wrists. His arms were still tied to his sides.

The sack was lifted until it covered just his head. Then Steve felt his arms being pulled firmly out to the sides, lifted up at an angle of 45 degrees.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” he demanded.

“Taste of your own medicine motherfucker!” a younger voice responded.

Steve’s heart sank. It WAS personal.

He felt ropes being tied around his ankles, then his legs were being yanked apart hard. He grunted as they reached the limits of his flexibility.

He felt someone Grabbing his nuts, then there was cold liquid down there. Tickling as it was rubbed against his nutsack. He felt another hand lifting his dick, holding it out of the way.

“Jesus fucking Christ, what are you doing?!” Steve protested.

There was a new feeling now, kind of rough, like sharp sand being brushed onto his scrotum.

“Look whatever it is, we can work it out can’t we? No point if I don’t even know what I’m supposed to have done.”

“No ‘supposed to’ about it asshole,” the younger voice replied.

Now Steve felt the head of his circumcised penis being lifted higher. There was a buzzing sound. Steve had heard it before. He struggled to identify it. He felt a sharp pain in his glans as something travelled across its surface. Now he recognised the sound. It was a tattoo gun.

“Ahh, AHHHH!” Steve cried, theatrically exaggerating the volume of his shout in the hope it would make his captor stop. It didn’t.

The tattoo gun continued, travelling over every millimetre of his helmet until it was done.


Then he felt something even worse. Something that hurt him less physically, but would leave mental scars the rest of his life. It was a greased butt plug. A large one being forced into his hole.

“Ahhh no, get the fuck away from my ass you motherfucking homos!” Steve screamed, momentarily forgetting the dynamics of his situation.

He felt a fist close around his low testicles, squeezing them in a vicelike grip.

“Say that again,” the older voice said.

“Oh just pop this cunt’s nuts and be done with him,” another deep voice said.

“No!” Steve screamed urgently. “Please, I’m sorry. It just slipped out. Whatever I did I’m sorry.”

“Yeah I fucking bet you are now,” the deep voice said.

Steve got the feeling from the way he enunciated, that the man was black.

The fist let go of Steve’s nuts.

Behind, Steve could feel the dildo still being forced into him. He arched his pelvis forwards away from it.

“Please, not my ass. Not that. I’m not gay!”

The second he said, Steve knew it was a ridiculous thing to say. He was surely only making things worse for himself. He felt the plug stretching his hole beyond endurance.

“No please. Ahhh. Ahhhhhhhh!”

He screamed, then it was in him, slipping past the tight ring of his sphincter. He felt his sphincter snap shut behind the plug’s conical head, locking it inside him, holding it there by the strength of his own tortured sphincter muscles.

The pain eased off a touch, but his hole was still being stretched horribly.

“Shit take it out, take it out!” he screamed.

“Nah, don’t think so. You can keep it for a while. Who knows, maybe it will turn YOU gay. If you’re not already.”

Steve resisted the urge to declare that he was straight. He didn’t understand why, but this seemed to be all about his sexuality, and he didn’t want to make things worse.


He felt hands back on his cock, adjusting him, stuffing his penis inside something: something that was far too tight for him. He felt fingers pulling on his tender glans, pulling through a hole. Then something encircled the head of his penis, holding him by the sensitive skin just behind his glans. He squirmed at the touch. Something else cool and hard wrapped behind his nuts, again clamping tightly.

“What are you doing to me?” Steve asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough. I hear you’re real proud of your dick frat boy. See if you’re so keen to show it off after this.”

Steve heard a series of clicks, and the thing being attached to his genitals wobbled with each click.

Then the hands released him and his genitals drooped heavily back down. He could feel that there was something attached to them.

“What have you done to me?”

“Find out for yourself.”

The hood was removed and Steve looked at his captors, blinking in the late afternoon light. There were three men, each several years older than he was, and considerably more muscular, and a kid, aged about 14 or 15. Steve had never seen the men but the kid looked familiar. He frowned.

“Don’t I know you?”

“You fucking should,” the kid responded, “you stripped me and my boyfriend naked and left us out in the street tied up. He broke up with me thanks to you.”

Comprehension flooded Steve’s mind.

“Oh that. It was just a joke.”

“Yeah fucking hilarious. Standing naked while half the kids in our school walked past!”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess that might be a downer. Sorry.”

“Not sorry. Not at all.”

Steve looked down at himself and his eyes widened.

“What the fuck?!”

“Little present. Special adhesive. It will take about 6 months to wear off, unless you don’t mind tearing the skin off your nut sack.”

The man lifted the head of Steve’s cock so that Steve could see it. It was tattooed with a white daisy that covered the entire head. It had a yellow centre covering the opening to his urethra.

“You get to keep the tattoo forever, just to remind you not to fuck with gay kids in future.”

The man speaking rummaged through the remnants of Steve’s jogging pants until he found a phone.

“Who’s your best friend?”

“What? Why do you wanna know?”

“Gonna phone him to come and get you.”

“Noah. Noah Franks.”

“Okay good. I’ll call him in a couple of hours. Tell him to come set you free. For now, you can hang around. Think about what a fucking douche you are.”

“I still think you should just cut his fucking balls off.”

Steve looked at the speaker. He was right, it was a young black man.

“Naw man, I think this is gonna be educational enough. No need to ruin his whole life. This time. But if you ever come after my boy here…”

He hugged the younger teen and rubbed the kid’s hair affectionately.

“We’ll be back and losing your nuts will be the least of your pains. Do you understand?”

Steve nodded wordlessly.

The mid-teen looked at Steve from his brother’s hug with ice cold hatred.

“Come on let’s go,” the man said.

“Yeah, I just have one more thing to say,” the kid said.

He drew back his foot and kicked Steve in the nuts as hard as he could. Steve tried to twist to avoid the kick but he couldn’t protect himself with his legs pulled so far apart. He grunted at the impact then gasped in pain as the boy moved closer and spoke.

“Why do you have to be SUCH an asshole?”

Steve could only moan in pain by way of response.


In the showers, Steve’s team mates swarmed him, laughing. They turned him so that he was facing the others. Steve struggled, desperate to hide his secret from them. The secret that only he, Noah and his attackers knew about.

“What you hiding there Steve?”Carter asked. He was a cat toying with a mouse. It was a game that Steve had played many times on others.
“Nothing. I just don’t want you queermos getting off looking at my shit!” Steve snarled.

“That never bothered you before Steve. Tell you what, why don’t we take a look!”

Carter nodded to the guys holding Steve, and they pulled his hands away from his groin.

“No!” Steve shouted, struggling to keep his secret, but it was a futile struggle. They were too strong, just as he and his friends had been against the gay teens. His abdomen and sphincter were still extremely sore from the butt plug that had stretched his hole to the diameter of a beer bottle for four hours.


Everybody looked down at his privates. His penis was stuffed into a wide two-inch cock cage made of steel. It curved downwards, and his flower tattooed glans emerged from the end, held by a ring of metal behind the head. It looked small and pathetic dangling outside the cage. He’d tried to drill out the rivets that locked it in place but the rivets simply snapped every drill bit. He’d tried carefully to saw through the metal bars but the metal quickly got too hot against his skin. He’d even tried bolt cutters on it. Nothing even left a scratch on the hardened steel. His nuts were still tender, but sooner or later, Steve knew he was going to have to tell his father what had had happened and ask for help. It made him cringe at the thought.

But what really drew the loudest laughs from his peers; the thing that finally taught Steve empathy, were his still-swollen, still-baby-smooth testicles. They were covered in a brightly-coloured coating of sparkling glitter, applied in horizontal stripes that matched the colours of the gay rainbow. And if his captors were to be believed, it was an adornment he would be wearing for at least the next six months!

“Fucking hell, queer Christmas balls!” someone said instantly recognising the iconic colour scheme.

Everyone but Steve burst out laughing and he knew that just like the two kids he’d victimised, he was never going to live this moment down.

Steve blushed furiously as his team mates rushed for their phones and started taking photos and videos.

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