THE SWIM TEAM'S REVENGE
If it's illegal for you to read this story, please move on.
This work is copyright by the author. No reposting is allowed without the author's consent.
In this fantasy the characters don't practice safe sex. But this is a fantasy. In the world we all live in, safe sex is the only sane way to go.
The phone rang. He picked it up and said, "Scott, dude, is that you?"
"Where the fuck are you? You were supposed to be here two hours ago."
"Yeah, Hank, I'm sorry. But look, somethin's come up and I can't come over there this evenin'."
"Fuck, man. What's up? We were gonna have us a fine time tonight! And what's with you? You sound funny. Like you're wiped. You been whackin' off or something?" Hank chuckled.
"I'll explain tomorrow. I'll see ya in the mornin', okay?"
"Yeah. I'll leave the back door unlocked so you can just come on in."
He thought he heard voices in the background before Scott said, "Uh, yeah, that's great." Then the connection was broken before Hank could say anything else.
"Fuck!" Hank was bummed. He and Scott were supposed to spend the weekend together. Their parents, who'd been friends since the Waverlys had moved in down the street when the boys were twelve, had decided to go to Sanibel for the weekend. Their two sons, who'd been friends just as long, were going to spend the weekend together at the Bevans' house.
Something about Scott sounded weird. Like he wasn't the same old happy, confident Scott. For sure Hank wanted the straight shit when he saw Scotty the next morning.
They'd planned to kick back that Friday evening. Walt, Hank's older brother, now at FSU, had scored a couple of porn videos, a bottle of vodka, and a case of beer for the two friends. The plan was to watch the vids and get buzzed. The next day they were going to work out and then check out the mall. They had dates with their current chicks for Saturday night, after which, however late it might be, they planned to come back to Hank's house and drink up the rest of the beer and booze. That would give them plenty of time on Sunday morning to sleep in and get the house policed up before their folks got back.
And now Scott had fucked things up. 'What could have "come up" that was so important he'd not show this evening?' Hank wondered.
He called Papa John's and ordered a medium rather than a large pizza, opened a can of beer, and returned to the family room. He kicked off his flipflops and fell back onto the sofa.
If there was anybody Hank knew, it was Scotty. They were like brothers. They had played football together throughout high school. They'd dated together. They'd lost their virginity the same weekend, in 9th grade. They were two of the most popular guys in their high school.
Hank chuckled. And they'd had fun baiting the school's queers. As recently as Monday of this week they'd found Jamey Dixon walking home. Scott stopped his car. They pulled him into the car, took him to a nearby farm road, pantsed him, wrote "Fag" on his belly with a magic marker, and then dropped him in his underwear at the end of his block. They threw his jeans at him as they drove away. It was priceless to see how quickly he struggled to get his pants back on.
Of course, he and Scott had told everyone at school the next day what had happened, so Dixon had been the butt of lots of jokes for the rest of the week. Who cared? The shrimp was a member of the swim team, but that didn't make him a jock. Some of those guys even shaved their body hair. They were all queers, as he and Scott had said often enough at school and in their usual hangouts.
When the pizza came, the delivery guy turned out to be a kid Hank recognized from school, a computer nerd with acne and glasses.
"Sorry, dude," he said, "my folks didn't leave me any money for a tip."
He ate the pizza, washing it down with another beer, and then went back to the family room.
'Just 'cause Scotty didn't come ain't no reason why I shouldn't enjoy these videos.' He grabbed the remote, propped his bare feet on the coffee table, belched, and started the first of the two videos.
He had his shorts and boxers off ten minutes into the first video. Then he remembered the vodka. The plan had been that he and Scott were going to drink vodka and tonics, but Hank just went to the kitchen and brought the bottle back with him.
Although he played with his cock as he watched, drinking straight vodka soon caught up with him and he fell asleep.
About two A.M. he woke up. He shut off the tv and the dvd player with the remote, went to the bathroom, and pulled off his jeans. He fell into bed wearing his wife beater and boxers.
Someone was ringing the doorbell. What time was it? Christ, it was a Saturday. Couldn't a guy sleep in if he wanted to?
And still the doorbell continued to ring.
He pulled on his jeans, zipped the fly, fastened the button. "Okay, okay, I'm coming," he grumbled. It might be Scott. If it was, he'd better have a damn good reason both for not showing up last night and for being here so early. He looked at the case clock in the corner. It said 8:23. Then he remembered Scott knew the door was unlocked.
When he opened the door, a bunch of guys pushed him backward and came into the house. There must have been six of them. He recognized the first faces he saw as belonging to members of the swim team. Including Jamey Dixon.
Hank was bigger, bulkier than any of the six guys who'd rushed him, but he was no match for all six of them.
Before he knew what had happened, he was sitting between Jamey Dixon and Corey Brandt in the back seat of an SUV. His hands were cuffed behind him and he was blindfolded.
He protested, accusing and threatening them individually.
"Shut the fucker up!" said a voice from the front seat. Hank recognized it as belonging to Kirk Brandt, the senior captain of the swim team.
"I've got an idea," Jamey said. There was some wiggling around in the seat next to him, and then someone pinched his nose shut. When he finally had to open his mouth to breathe, a large wad of soft cloth was shoved into his mouth. After a moment, he could tell by the taste that it was someone's jockey shorts. He tried to protest, but of course, to no avail.
"Jamey," someone said, "you da man! But now you're freeballing."
"Yeah, and you can suck me if you want to," Jamey said, chuckling.
"In your dreams! We'll let Hank do that when we get to where we're goin'."
Hank was beginning to be very, very nervous.
They drove for about an hour on an interstate, got off onto a two-lane road, and twenty minutes later pulled onto a dirt road. After about a half a mile on the dirt road, the SUV stopped.
Kirk put down all the windows and shut off the motor.
"He's barefoot, isn't he?" he asked.
"Yeah," somebody said. 'He was that way when he came to the door."
"Okay, let's take him over to the tree. And you can take off the blindfold now."
Soon everyone was out of the car and Hank had been led to a large live oak. A guy whom Hank recognized as Phil Swanson, another member of the swim team, came out of a big but rustic-looking house.
"Hey, dudes! I see you got him. Everything go okay?"
"Yep, asshole here didn't give us any problems."
"Cool. Here's the rope."
Without addressing any comments to Hank, they released his hands from behind his back. He was in the middle of a circle of high school athletes.
"Now, you can rub your wrists a minute to get the circulation going in them. But there are 7 of us here. You don't know where you are, and you don't have any shoes. It wouldn't be a good idea to try to make a run for it. Got that?"
Hank growled something into the briefs which were still in his mouth, but he nodded.
"I think you probably know why you're here," Kirk said, "but just in case you're too stupid to have it figured out, you need a major attitude adjustment, and we're gonna see that you get it. We know your folks won't be back until tomorrow, and we'll have you back home safe and sound before they get home. Meanwhile," he grinned at his friends, "you've got a lot to learn. I'm gonna take your gag out now. But you talk only when you're asked a question or given permission. If you can't remember that, we'll have to reinsert Jamey's briefs."
The underpants were removed.
Hank, who hadn't had a bathroom visit since the middle of the night, said, "I gotta piss,
Kirk grinned. "Doug, you got your camera?"
"Okay, then asshole, piss."
"You fags want me to pee my pants? That's nasty!"
"We've got all day. When you can't stand it any more, let go."
"Oh, Jesus!" Hank exclaimed. And then a dark stain began to appear in the front of his jeans as the onlookers chuckled and made fun of him.
"Get a couple of good ones, Doug," Kirk said.
"I've got one. When he's finished I'll get another."
"Fuckin' queers!" Hank said. "Wait until we get back to town. Your asses will all be in jail."
The circle of guys all chuckled.
"I don't think so. But you talked without permission." He nodded to Jamey, who shoved the briefs back into Hank's mouth.
Hank's wrists were then tied together with a soft rope, which was then fastened to a branch of the oak tree.
"Woops, we forgot to take off his shirt," Kirk's brother Corey said.
"Rip it off," Kirk commanded. Corey did as instructed.
"Okay, let's get rid of those soggy jeans and boxers. I'm sure you'll feel much more comfortable without them," Kirk said.
Hank was by this time clearly worried. He stood there naked, his arms pulled above his head, surrounded by seven guys out for revenge.
He could feel sweat trickling down his ribs.
"Now, asshole, you know why you're here. You and your buddy Scott have been saying all around the school that everybody on the swim team's gay, except that's not the word you use. You call us queers and fags and homos. And that's going to stop. You need to understand that some of us may be gay and some may not be.
But that's nobody's business but ours. It sure as fuck ain't yours! Not only that, Corey's girl dumped him when you told her Corey was gay. That's why I said you are in for some attitude adjustment training this weekend."
Kirk looked around at the others. "I think we can do the first part out here. It will save a mess inside."
Hank blanched at those words.
"Phil, why don't you and Buzz go get the stuff we need? The rest of you, go hit the john or get a drink, and see how Carlos is making out, and then come back here, okay?"
Everyone left except Kirk, who just stood looking at Hank. What he saw was a tall, muscular eighteen-year-old with brown eyes and crew-cut black hair. He had a fair amount of hair on his chest, particularly around the nipples and between the pecs, a trail of dark hair from his navel to his lush pubic hair, as well as some on his forearms and lower legs.
Soon the others came back from inside the house. One was carrying a large bowl of water. Another had a pair of cordless clippers. A third had a can of shaving foam. And a fourth was unreeling a hose which was connected to a tap on the side of the house.
Hank, who could guess what was going to happen, began to tug against the ropes which kept his arms stretched over his head and to make growling noises.
Kirk said something to Corey, who trotted back inside the house. He returned in a minute and handed something to Kirk. At a nod from Kirk, who was not only the captain of the team but also clearly in charge of that day's activities, Corey pulled the briefs from Hank's mouth. Hank had barely started a stream of obscenities when a dildo-shaped tube was forced into his mouth and made secure by straps that tied behind his head. He found he could breathe through the tube, but he couldn't say anything. And it felt a lot like having a rubber cock in his mouth.
He looked around at the guys surrounding him. This couldn't be happening. But it was.
"Look," someone said, "he acts like such a macho stud on campus, but his cock's shriveled up to nothing."
Everybody laughed. "Maybe it will grow some," Jamey joked.
"Jamey, you want to do the honors?"
Jamey grinned. "Oh yeah, but maybe somebody else could help so we could take him inside and get to the real good stuff."
Phil Swanson, who tended to be pretty quiet, said, "I'll help."
"Dougie, you're gonna get pix of all this aren't ya?" Kirk's question was really more of a command. Doug nodded his head and pulled his camera out of one of the big pockets on his cargo shorts.
They hosed Hank down and then began to apply shaving foam to his pits. Hank wiggled so much they quit and stepped back. Kirk had a couple of the guys hold Hank's ankles. "Now, dipshit, you'd better hold still.
We wouldn't want to cut you in any of your tender places."
Hank, figuring it was useless to struggle, stood, arms drawn over his head, as all of his body hair was removed. Jamey used the clippers to trim his bush. Then they used the foam and disposable razors, which they had to change often. He found as they moved his cock and balls to shave that area, he began, to his shame, to get an erection. He held his breath as they did his balls, but Jamey seemed to know what he was doing.
They did his thighs, shins, and calves and then stood up.
"We can't reach his arms, until you untie that rope," Phil said.
"Don't worry about his arms. You've still got to do the flip side."
"Yeah," Jamey said, smirking, "he's got some hair on his ass. And his crack is really hairy. Let's get at that."
Hank's boner had been almost horizontal to the ground from getting his pubes and balls shaved. When Phil and James began rubbing the foam around on his butt cheeks, it hardened some more.
"Look, guys, Mr. Macho's enjoying this."
Hank grunted into his gag, wanting to insist that he was not enjoying it. And he felt his cock had betrayed him. It must have been the embarrassment. He was, after all naked around a bunch of guys with clothes on.
He knew they all either hated him or at least were seriously pissed with him.
And then a thought. 'Why just me? Why aren't they doing this to Scott?'
"Ya know," Phil said, "it'd be a lot easier to do his crack if he was bending over."
"Do it," Kirk said.
So Hank's hands were untied. As he stood there rubbing his wrists, Kirk said, "Now, Bevans, don't even think of trying to run away. I mean, think about it. You're naked. And barefoot. Your body's just been shaved. You don't have a clue where you are. And we've got some pretty embarrassing pictures. So, are you gonna cooperate?"
Hank, who still had the dildo gag in his mouth, glared at Kirk but nodded.
"Bend over and grab your ankles."
Hank was glad he had a dark complexion, for he was sure he'd be blushing otherwise. He felt a tingle go over his face, shoulders, and chest as one of the guys began rubbing the foam into his ass crack. His cock gave a lurch when a finger was inserted up to the first knuckle in his hole. Even though he'd done that to himself, he felt totally violated when someone else did it.
Soon he was standing, his cock now pointing to the sky.
Someone noticed that they still hadn't done his forearms. When that omission had been corrected, they hosed him off again.
"You guys keep our guest company," Kirk said. "I'm goin' inside and check on things in there. When he's dried off a little, bring him in."
After about ten minutes the sun and light breeze had Hank dried off. Then Torrance Booker, the only Black guy on the swim team, put a dog collar around Hank's neck, fastened a leash to it, grinned, and said, "Heel, boy."
Hank, whose hands and feet were free, was tempted to start throwing punches at the well-built but smaller Booker. He thought better of it, though, when he considered his circumstances. He was led into the large but rustic cabin. It had exposed rafters in the large main room. There was a kitchen adjacent and a hallway which apparently gave access to bedrooms or whatever. The furniture in the great room had been pushed back and a large wrestling mat occupied the center of the room.
Torrance conducted Hank to the middle of the mat, removed the leash and collar, and put a hand on his shoulder.
"On your knees, asshole!"
When Hank knelt, Torrance fastened his wrists behind his back. Then Kirk stood in front of him.
"Well, at least you look neat and trim, like a good swimmer. Even if you couldn't keep up with even the youngest and least experienced member of our team. So now it's time to continue with the attitude adjustment training."
Kirk stood close to Hank. He put his fingers on Hank's forehead and pushed so that Hank had to bend his neck in order to look up at the team captain.
"We're not going to hurt you."
He bent over and removed Hank's dildo gag.
"But before you leave here, you're going to beg to be fucked."
Hank started to say something, but Kirk grabbed him by both ears.
"You still aren't allowed to speak unless you're asked a question. If you do, we may have to reconsider our promise not to hurt you." He grinned down at the kneeling football player. "Besides, we still have all the pics Dougie's been taking. You wouldn't want your buds on the team to see those, or your girl friends, or your parents, would you?"
"Shake your head 'no' if you understand what I'm saying."
Hank shook his head. He suspected what was coming up next, and he dreaded the idea, but he couldn't let anyone see the pictures of him Doug Chavez had been taking. He just couldn't!
"Like I said a while ago, some of us may be gay, and some aren't. But you shouldn't knock other people's sexual orientation. At least until you've tried it. So, macho man, you're going to suck some cock to start with. I assume one of those women you've collected has given you a b.j. So you know what to do. Some of the guys don't want any part of your mouth on their dicks. That doesn't mean they disapprove of guys being gay. It just means they personally don't like the idea of a guy taking their dicks in his mouth. Got it?"
Hank knew enough to nod.
"But the other guys did a kind of lottery. And Dougie won. So I'm gonna be the photographer for a few minutes while you suck his cock." He looked around the room. "Doug, you ready?"
"Oh, yeah," Doug said, stepping forward and unbuttoning his shorts.
"Where's your camera?"
"Right here." He handed Kirk the camera, took his position in front of the kneeling Hank, and dropped his shorts. Then he pushed his boxers down. He was already half hard.
"Dude, I think you'd better lick my balls a little to get my dick ready for your mouth."
Hank drew back and made a face. Doug put his hands behind Hank's head and pulled it forward. "Lick 'em!"
Hank stuck his tongue out and tentatively licked one of Doug's smoothly-shaven balls. What he tasted was mostly soap. It wasn't bad. As soon as his tongue touched Doug's balls, their owner sighed.
"Yeah, Bevans. That's great. Now just do that a little more."
Hank complied, and very soon Doug's dick was standing at attention.
"I'm ready now. Why don't you start by just licking it like it was a big popsicle?"
Again, Hank did as he was told, his ears burning because of his humiliation. Here he was, star football player, shaved, naked, on his knees, and licking the cock of a swim team faggot.
He was surprised again to find that there was no unpleasant taste. Chavez had obviously showered that morning, and the predominant taste was soap. There was a faint locker-room smell, the smell of testosterone, but though he was aware of the scent, he couldn't taste it. He started to move his right hand to his tumescent cock, but couldn't because his hands were fastened behind his back.
"Wanna jerk off while you're sucking Dougie's dick?" Kirk asked.
Hank growled a definite negative and went back to licking Chavez's cock.
"Okay, fucker. That's great, and you seem to like doin' it, but it's time for you to put it in your mouth. Oh, and Kirk may have said we weren't gonna hurt you. But if I feel teeth, you're gonna get hurt. Now, suck my cock!" He pulled on Hank's ears.
Hank rose slightly so he could get the upward-pointing dick into his mouth. Making sure to cover his teeth, he began to suck on the cock while he used his tongue on the
"Oh, maannn," Doug crooned," I can't believe you've never done that before."
Doug never asked Hank to deep-throat him. Instead, he was encouraging, as if he were happy with what Hank was doing with the first four inches of his cock.
Hank wasn't even aware that Kirk was busy taking pictures, being careful to get Hank's face but not Doug's in the pictures.
"Chavez," Kirk said, "we want him to swallow your cum, okay?"
"Fine by me," Doug said. And soon he was holding Hank's head while he shot his load into the kneeling man's mouth.
"Open your mouth," Kirk said. When Hank turned toward him and complied, Kirk took a picture. Then he told Hank to swallow the cum.
As he did so, something inside Hank felt cold as he realized that now there was evidence that he'd sucked cock. He was a cocksucker! He wanted to gag, but it was more the idea of what he was doing than the actual taste of Doug's cum that sickened him.
"I can see from your face what you're thinking, Bevans," Doug said. "Now you're a cocksucker, and you've got my spermies inside you. You'll never be the same again. And the next time you feel like calling somebody a cocksucker, remember what you are."
"Okay," Kirk said, "somebody go get Carlos. And who's next?"
"I am," Jamey said. He replaced Doug in front of Hank, dropped his jeans. He'd been freeballing since he'd taken off his briefs in the car to use as a gag for Hank.
Hank was shocked to find that the kid, only a sophomore, had a bigger cock than his own. He began to sweat at the prospect of having to accommodate that thing in his mouth. He hoped fervently that Jamey didn't expect him to swallow it.
There was no need to lick Jamey's balls since he'd gotten hard instantly after taking his place in front of the kneeling jock. Hank had just begun to lick the mighty phallus when he was aware of two people entering the room. Everyone turned to look at the newcomers, Hank included.
Carlos Figueroa, a member of the swim team who hadn't until then put in an appearance, was leading a big, muscular blond guy who, like Hank, had had his body fully shaved. He wore a collar around his neck like the one which had been put on Hank. And he was being led by a dog leash fastened to the collar. The captive walked with his head down, looking totally defeated, but his dick was standing fully at attention.
It was Scott!
If you'd like to write me about this story, please do so at lilperv76 (at) yahoo
(dot) com. Be sure to put the story title in the subject line so I'll know
your email isn't spam. Thanks. --Max