It was a good thing I was on the bowl; I shit and shit and shit. My hole muscles were sagging open and then snapping closed and then hanging open again. I just could not believe it. I was not going to be able to have that guy up my ass for at least a couple of months. I didn't think I could take it.

Since I had a few more minutes left on my potty pass, instead of returning to class, I went down to the athletic intern's office. As he was the guy who inspected us every day. Jason and I had sort of joked that he should hang a sign on his door: Office of Crotch Control.

I pushed open the door and presented my crotch to the controller. He said he had a few minutes off and I sat down, head in hands, tears in my eyes, and told him I just couldn't go on, I was thinking of dropping out of basketball. He put his arms around my workout-widened shoulders and comforted me and I continued to sob my guts to him, about how the guys and I were fucking each other with rubber dongs and then how I found a free-cocked guy to fuck me for real and then I found out that he too was locked up now. I just had to have some sort of sex; I couldn't go on as an emasculated teen. He told me to relax and he had several possible solutions and that I wouldn't have to drop out of basketball.

He stood up, pushed the lock on the door, loosened his belt, and dropped his trousers. My mind was racing that he was going to fuck me up my ass! Wow! What a trip, the assistant coach riding my butt! He was about 22 or 23, and a real man. I'm sure he had been around and knew how to give a woman pleasure. I would learn a lot from him. I could hardly wait to see his manly tool. But when he reached up and pushed his underpants down to his knees. No! Not that! Another damn steel jock! So he was locked into one too?

I was full of questions. How long? Why? Who had the keys? He sat down in his hard silver jock and told me that ever since he was 18 and a freshman at the university he had worn a crotch control device. He wasn't always locked up, but except for some widely spaced stopwatch-timed load-shoot releases in the last 5 years his private parts had been secured under tight control. His story would come later, but for now he told me that he understood my situation, his balls felt for my balls. Some of the other jocks at our school would only be locked up for a couple of months during their sport's season, and then they would be fucking free for the rest of the year. He realized that the three of us, Brent, Jason and I, had already been forced-chaste for a while and had a long way to go. He was going to talk to the coach about some sort of periodic release so we could shoot our loads and feel like men.

It was a few days before the plan was worked out. In the mean time, I made do with lying face down on my basement weight bench and having Brent ram my hole with the nastiest dildo he could find. He pushed so hard my entire body was rocked forward on the bench, he pushed the air out of my lungs. I was going grunt... grunt... grunt... and not only because of the feelings in my hole but because of the air flowing out of my chest and mouth. I looked back and saw Brent 's double-peaked biceps flexing and ramming. It was really great have a man work my hole, even if it wasn't directly with his cock. I could never let a wimp faggot back there, but with Brent, well, it was ok because he was my buddy, built like a superhero action figure, and of course had a long track record of fucking women.

One day before practice the three of us, Brent, Jason and me, were called down to see the coach. He told us of the modified plan, just for us. He restated that if we didn't win the state like the football team had done, we were to continue crotch-locked for the rest of the school year. I guess it didn't matter at this point since if we went out for track we would have been forced to endure the continued emasculation anyway. He had talked with the principal, who of course did not want any of us free to fuck females while we played sports. But the principal agreed that we could visit our cocks and balls for a very limited time in a school-controlled situation. The coach himself would have the combinations and the keys. Coach and the intern assistant would, from time to time, unlock us, then leave the office for 5 minutes, we could do what we wanted in that 5 minutes, no one else would be in the office, and we would not leave. Of course if we left, we were out of the program, off the team. After 5 minutes he and the intern would return to the room and lock us back up.

The coach would set the goals and timelines for each release. One of us might make it, all of us might, or any two. It was also possible that on some goals no guy would make it. Then the coach would just go on and set up the goals and timelines for the next release. Since he already had said that if we did not win the state championship, we would continue to be eunuchs until the last day of school, these other goals and timelines would be smaller and shorter, sort of like our cocks now short and small and bent down tight in the strong steel traps.

The first goal was sort of surprising. He said it was to score at least 98 on the history exam next Monday. How did he know about that? Well, I usually did something close to that, maybe 95 or so, and Jason was down in the 90 range, and Brent, well, he was more like a 70 guy in history. So the rest of the week, in addition to practice, and to working out, we also did extra study. We formed a study team. We gave ourselves quizzes. We thought up all possible questions Miss Russell might ask, and then we figured out the answers and checked each other on it. This was sort of neat, really. I thought I had a pretty good chance of visiting my cock, Jason was not so sure about himself, but of course I wanted him to be free too. Brent, well, it would be a miracle, but we still tried.

On the crucial day, we came to school dripping pretty steady. If we had been free, our cocks would have been full hard and up. The test seemed a lot easier than the others we had taken. It must have been the study and group prep that we did. We had to wait two days for the results; our balls involuntarily held in the balance. And then the class got the tests back. I had scored 99, Jason 98, and Brent 90. Wow! Double-peak biceps Brent? 90?

The coach was as good as his word. One thing I had not understood was that we all got to stay in the room, even if we weren't getting out of our jocks. So this meant that both Jason and I were free but Brent was not. Jesus! What to do? What a choice! The thing was it was very hard to get out of those cups as our equipment was already "ready to go". We had to use a lot of cold water and pull and push to get the balls out and then the cocks. Fortunately the coach didn't start the time until both Jason and I were completely free. This first session we ended up with me fucking Jason and Jason fucking Brent. Then we had time to have Brent suck me off as I was fucked by Jason. It was a fast 5 minutes but I think Jason and I both shot at least 2 loads. It didn't take the coach and the intern long to push us back in our jocks and lock us in tight.

It was a good thing that we had had that time a few weeks before to really get to know each other's bodies. This 5 minutes was really sort of an extension of the punishment because we were racing the clock to get a load off before we were locked up again. Fortunately we were able to perform. It would have been really terrible if we hadn't been able to shoot. We did shoot, except for Brent, and even he got to feel me in his throat and Jason up his rectum, so he got a little out of it too. I guess like a dog marking his territory with his urine, I had staked out my claim to both my buddies by marking them with my cum.

It was sort of weird, here we were on school time, on school property, and I was "officially" shooting into two male studs. Well, I guess technically it wasn't "official". All the coach did was let us out of our jocks for 5 minutes. What we did with our equipment was up to us.

It also was kind of neat seeing Jason and myself free and Brent still locked up. I mean if this were the cave-man days, I would imagine that Brent may have been able to overpower most any guy and "take" the other man's women, yet here he was bulging with raw male force but with his cock locked down tight. We had been reading in history about how in the early empires when an army was defeated, the losing military guys were often castrated but then forced to work as slaves for the victors, the victors in the meantime busy raping all the new women. Well, I had that image of Brent as the muscular but defeated enemy soldier, no longer able to fuck, and of course as Jason and I used his body for our pleasure, we were the victors, at least for 5 minutes. And who knew, maybe on our next challenge, I would lose and play the role of slave to the triumphant double-peak biceps Brent.

Now the coach knew us pretty well and knew our athletic ability. For the next goal and timetable he set 500 sit-ups to be done in one session of no more than 15 minutes and we had two weeks to train up to that level. So we knew that in two weeks we might be out again if only for 5 minutes. In this case, Brent, the super stud jock, was probably at close to 500 already. Jason and I, well, being jocks and having worked out continuously since the start of the football season, we were within striking range of the goal. The three of us started doing lots of sit-ups in our workout routines. We all noticed the drool dripping from the other guys' chastity cups as we crunched our abs up to that goal. As it turned out, all three of us made it this time and I enjoyed having Brent ram up my hole and then we let him go at Jason 's butt before the time ran out. While Brent was up mine, I was up Jason and then when Brent switched, Jason was up mine. I sort of got to appreciate Brent twice. Once directly with his manly thrusts, and then on the second round, each lunge he made up Jason forced Jason to make a nice cock-hard in and out over my prostate.

In some ways these 5-minute releases were almost more life-style altering than the long-term jock lock. I mean, as we were working to win our releases we were now thinking about how the other guys' holes would feel to our cock or how it would be with them up our hole and we played that videotape in our head over and over. Then it happened, so fast, we almost couldn't even think we were going for those load shoots so desperately. And then the following days, the new mental videotape would play in our heads. Brent's thrusts got deeper and rougher on each replay, and Jason's anal ring snapped tighter and clutched more forcefully too. We might not even have been fucking each other had we been let out of school to seek someone else, but with these school supervised 5 minute load shoots, the fun one guy could have with another was automatically reinforced in our still forming psyches. I didn't know any other guys in our school who male-male-male bonded like we did.

We had some other school academic challenges, some direct team challenges such as getting above a certain level of points in a particular game, and more PT challenges in the amount of weights lifted or the number of reps or both. I didn't always make it but even just having a possible chance to get out of my jock was really great for my mental health. I began to realize that since I had met that gymnast in my house, and then with Brent and Jason on that one weekend between sports seasons, and then again with the gymnast, and now with the several sessions I had had enjoying Brent and Jason, well, here it was getting well over half my senior year and my sex life was 100% male oriented. Of course that was only because it had to be, I was sure that if the coach would let us have a woman in his office we could very easily and rapidly have filled her cunt and then switched off. But of course we only had ourselves to work with, so we made the best of a bad situation.

I began to lie in bed at night and remember how much pleasure I had had ramming up my buddies' holes and also how much fun I felt with them up my butt too. We didn't have much time for love making, just fucking. But in our rubber dildo sessions, each of us had begun to develop some of those techniques the gymnast had taught me. Some pec rubbing, nipple tonguing, and biceps and abs touching. In fact I think we sort of replayed the mental videotape of those freed-cock fuck sessions when we did our jock-locked rubber anal probe workouts. You know, it was almost like we were married, we three guys. We spent a lot of time together; we knew each other's bodies on a very personal basis. We enjoyed each other's personalities, we admired each other's looks, we appreciated each other's reproductive equipment and we liked each other's holes.

I had to admit that before we got going with the "relief" sessions, I was beginning to eye some other guys. At the mall or even at the Burger King, I was checking out all the males, the workers, the customers. If they looked like they had a tight butt and some abs, well, I was mentally marking them down both as potentially prodding my hole as well as perhaps some day riding their rear too. This survey of available males sort of died down when I started being able to fuck my buddies regularly, but it worried me. Was I turning gay?

One time the coach set the goal to be to "pass" a test in pre-calculus. This was the time that all three of us failed to make it. We didn't get to have sex for quite a while after that. However, the pre-calculus goal was a good one in that all three of us did improve from deep low failing to just below passing. Still, we were not good enough and we continued our temporary castration for a few more weeks. It looked like that in order to graduate from high school and then be able to go on to college, in spite of the offers of scholarships that had been coming our way, it looked like we might need to go to summer school to make up that low grade. We might have to take that pre-calculus course over. We might need to have some sort of "strong" motivation to do well. We might not want to be distracted by babes tanning by a pool. We might need something to "lock" our attention on the academic task at hand.

If we ever got out of high school, it looked like each of us three buddies would be splitting up. Brent was going to join the Marines. Jason had a basketball scholarship to the state university. And I had a football scholarship to the local college. Each of us had received several offers and we took what we thought was the best for each of us.

On a couple of these offers we got to go for a weekend to visit a university or college and talk with the coaches and players and see a game. Part of the visit meant that we got to stay in their athletic dorm and have meals with the jocks there. Our reputation had preceded us and they all wanted to see and feel our chastity cups and talk about our voluntary castration. In several cases, we got to the point of telling them how much we missed having sex and so that night in the dorm room they would organize a little party to help us out. I can still remember the trip that Jason and I went on to a big state university in an adjoining state. We really learned a lot about the school, the sports program, and we had personal contact with most of the guys on the team, very personal contact, like up our holes. It was fun the following weeks to watch some of these teams play on TV. "Wasn't he the one that had that really long dick with the big bulge at the tip?" "Yeah! Wow! I can still feel him slamming his prong up my ass." "Yeah, and I can still hear you moaning and grunting and ohgodding." Yes! After my limited sexual experience with the gymnast and then my 2 buddies, well, I got a broader perspective as I was being fucked like a broad by these NCAA jocks.

I don't know much about subliminal interpersonal communication, but I did learn something about it during my emasculated senior year. Of course the women at my school soon knew about my castration and even though I was at first looking at them with the same eyes I always had, picking out targets of opportunity, comparing breasts, noting hips, even detecting odors, the girls were polite but not coming back with the same looks they had given me in my cock-free days. I guess they knew that I was no longer man enough to satisfy them. But what was really strange is that when I would be out and see broads who were not from my school, they were also not coming back with looks like before. It was almost like I was standing there naked so they could see my solid steel jock cup. But they couldn't, so were they reading something in my eyes? Was I telling them in some unconscious way that I was locked up, that I couldn't do them any good? I wonder. I got to thinking I must have a sign on the back of my shirt reading: "no longer able to fuck".

The other weird thing is about the men. For most of the time after my buddies and I started getting regular cock releases I was not so worried about where my next sexual rush was going to come from, so I was not looking much at guys. I was still looking at girls, but they weren't much interested in me. But as I told you there were a few times where we missed our goals and then we would have to go for a few more weeks locked up. As the juice from not being able to shoot began to build up in my trapped balls, I guess that subconsciously I was sort of hungering for a hot throbbing cock up my ass. As I told you earlier, I found myself evaluating potential fuckers much as under the other circumstances I had been assessing the ladies. I found that my eyes were sort of stripping the clothes off guys I would see at the mall, or in stores.

I had to get a part for my car and went in to the GM dealership and saw Tony, wow! What a stud! He was about 25 but had those shoulders that sloped down at 45 degrees, indicating he lifted and had very little fat on his torso. As he was filling out the sale forms with his biceps bulging as he wrote, I was wondering about the size and shape of his prod and how he would feel ramming up my rectum. It happened that later that day, that night, I was at a Baskin-Robbins getting a cone on my way home and this Tony dude walks in with a woman on his arm, obviously his girl, but you know it didn't seem to phase me, I still stood there and now I could see his high tight butt and I knew with muscles like that, he would be able to ram me good. The strange thing was that Tony sort of picked up on my looking. He didn't say for me to drop my pants as he was coming right over, he didn't say anything, but I think his eyes knew that I was interested, I think he also knew that I was not a threat. I was not a rival, I was not going to take his girl, not while I was cock-locked, that was for sure.

But the real incident happened a few days later when I was getting my hair cut at a style salon in a strip mall. They had several operators, all females, and there were about 5 customers. Two of them getting cut at the same time as I was were what appeared to be a set of buddies. I say that because they dressed pretty much alike, and had hair cuts alike, and they had builds alike too. They had different faces, so I don't think they were brothers, but they were definitely on the same page with each other. They were getting their high and tight buzz-cuts trimmed. I got the feeling they were jocks with a little bit of military attitude. They were very neat, clean, and the cuts they had chosen just went along with that too. It happened that all three of us were finished at the same time. Their operators were having trouble ringing up the sales, so I got to stand there and see their butts and also their full-packed crotches, real men. I also noticed their Adam's apples: also a good sign of low percent body fat. They had semi-muscular necks around their prominent Adam's apples.

I was standing there dripping into my jock cup, not enough to flow out of the bottom yet. I was thinking how would it feel to fuck their butts. Well, at this point, and I hadn't said anything, they both turned and looked at me. We looked at each other for a few moments. I think they said "Sup?" and turned around. My operator was able to get another cash register going and she finished with me just a few seconds before the other two women had the other register going to complete the sale to the two guys.

I was parked one store down and then around the corner and down a small row where there was a gap between the strip mall stores. Actually I think it might have been that they were two separate malls just located adjacent to each other. Anyway I had turned the corner and was stepping down toward my car. There were no windows on either wall that lined this parking area, just the solid brick walls of the adjoining stores. I had almost made it to my car when I sort of felt something grab at my body, something like a pickpocket I thought. As I turned to see who it was, I found I couldn't turn as some guy had put both his arms around my arms and then he pulled my elbows back. At this point a second man stepped in front of me and I recognized him as one of the two high and tights and so obviously his buzz-cut buddy was holding me from behind. This guy repeated his "Sup?" And I came back with a "Sup? Dude" myself. He then said that he didn't like the way I had looked at him in the hair saloon and he was going to teach me a little lesson so I wouldn't do it again.

His buddy pulled back on my arms leaving my pecs and abs open to the coming attack. Of course the dude didn't realize that I worked out every day and so the two or three punches he threw sort of bounced off. His hand hurt him a lot more that it hurt me. He rubbed his sore paw, like maybe he had hit a brick wall. Then I saw the evil glint in his eye and as his buddy hiked my body back and over one of his wide-planted legs, hiked me back so I too was forced to spread open my legs, the glint-eyed one came at my crotch with the kind of foot action I had only seen in a good soccer match. His sneering smile turned to open-mouthed amazement as his foot hit something as hard as steel there in my crotch. "Owww! I broke my foot!" He was screaming as he hopped around on only one leg, and dropping my arms his buddy rushed to give him some aid.

With my arms free, a couple quick jabs to each guy's narrow little midsections and they were sprawled on the concrete gasping for air as their abs had sort of temporarily checked out of the torso air-exchange assistance business. As I drove off I could see they were groggily beginning to stand, holding bruised body parts, and shaking their freshly trimmed heads. I recalled that the intern had told us that another advantage to being locked in the steel jock cup was that it afforded 24 hour "protection" against major blows to our most sensitive parts. Well, I was one satisfied customer that day.