Mr Jack 69

the warmth of enclosure

greenhouse atmosphere

hands and face only skin

electrical charges surge

bursts of static jolts

fabric on fabric

cling on cling

Happy 4th of July to all the "doms", "tops", and cocky muscle jock studs out there just begging to be turned out into sexy sluts and shown some new fireworks 🎆😎😏

I’ve been a coach for years, and I recognize bullying when it’s happening. Recently, I’ve noticed that this guy, John, who comes to the gym pretty regularly, despite his being massively out of shape, and the captain of the wrestling team, Scott, have a very tense relationship.

This is John:

And this is Scott:

I haven’t seen anything directly, but I trust my sense of things, and I’m pretty sure Scott is bullying John. And I believe strongly that it’s my responsibility to do something about it.

So, I call John into my office and tell him what I suspect. He confirms my suspicions immediately. On the verge of tears, he tells me of all the mental abuse Scott has been inflicting, making him show off his body and denigrate himself. He tells me that Scott consistently calls him Fatty and Faggot and tells him what a useless loser he is.

So, with a sense of righteousness, I call Scott into my office. It’s cramped with the three of us there, and I can feel the heat from all the bodies. Scott’s just been working out and he’s sweaty. I think for a second how hot he looks, but I don’t allow myself to dwell on that.

I’m determined to call out the bullying and to set things right. I tell Scott what John has reported and tell him that his behavior needs to stop immediately.

I expect Scott to respond to me directly, but instead he smiles and turns to John: “Is that right, John? Do you want me to stop?”

John looks confused for a second, and Scott continues: “You see, Coach T, I don’t think it’s bullying if a guy wants it to be happening. And you want it to happen, don’t you, you pathetic loser?”

John looks uncomfortable and stammers, “Um … Sir … um … yes.” He looks relieved to have said it.

“And why is that, John?” Scott asks, with a smile.

John looks confused again, and Scott says, “Why don’t you show Coach?”

John seems to understand what Scott means and he pulls down his shorts. There, under his enormous jiggly belly, it’s clear. John’s little nub of a dick is red and hard and wet.

“You don’t want it to stop because it excites you, right, faggot? You know that if I stopped you’d never feel like this anymore.” Scott reaches over and pulls off John’s shirt so that he’s completely exposed. “You big fat faggot! You love being degraded! You are pathetic and ridiculous.”

And John moans like a slut, jiggling his belly with his hand and making his hardon bounce up and down.

Scott turns his attention to me: “So, the real question is, Coach, why are you so invested in John here? There are lots of problems in the locker room. Why this one?”

I’m not prepared for him to talk to me like this, and I just say, “Scott, you should leave right now, and you should know that, despite what John says he wants, your behavior is unacceptable and I’ll be reporting you to the school, for bullying.”

“Sure, Coach, whatever. But you haven’t answered my question. Why do you care so much? I have a theory. Do you want to hear it?”

“Out now, Scott.” My voice sounds weak even to me.

Scott just continues, “My theory is that you were a fat kid.” He smiles at the look that comes across my face. “And you were relentlessly bullied. And … well, like John here, you hated that bullying, but you’d go home every night and jerk your dick thinking about your bullies. Am I close?”

“Out …” My voice cracks and the word is hardly intelligible.

“And what’s true right now, Coach, is that this scene is exciting you the way you were excited as a little fat kid. Stand up.”

I don’t know why, but I do what he says. I’m standing behind my desk in my gray sweats and my crotch is tented out. “That’s why you should always wear a jock, Coach. John, why don’t you go help Coach take off his sweats.”

John is naked and trembling, but he walks up to me and slips his hand into my waistband, pulling them down. My hard cock pops out, and a thin line of pre drips from it.

Scott laughs. “John did you expect Coach would be that small? I think it’s even smaller than yours. Pull your belly up.” John obeys, and he stands next to me, our two hard dicks on display. Scott snaps a pic with his phone, turns it around so that we can see. Yes, it’s obvious that my dick is smaller.

“So, Coach, are you still reporting me? The school might have questions about this pic.”

I’m stunned. I just stand there exposed. Scott goes on, “And it looks as though you’re excited about being bullied. Isn’t that right, loser?”

I don’t respond, and Scott addresses John: “So, John, why don’t you help me bully Coach? Force him to his knees.”

John looks surprised but excited. He turns to face me, puts his right hand on my left shoulder and exerts some pressure. It’s not of course enough to force me to my knees, but I feel my legs going weak, and a second later, I’m kneeling in front of John’s big belly.

“Kiss it,” Scott orders, and I kiss the jiggly belly, aware that Scott is taking pics. “Now suck off John’s pathetic dick.”

I move my head down, push the fat belly out of the way, and in a second, John’s dick is buried in my mouth and I’m sucking. “When you shoot, John, do it on his face.”

It doesn’t take long for John to finish. He’s more excited than he’s ever been. And he shoots and shoots and shoots all over my face.

Scott shows me the last picture. Me on my knees, dick still hard, face and hair covered with John’s juice.

Every morning for the next week, Scott visits me in my office at the beginning of the day. The first visit, he tells me that he’ll bully me only if I beg for it. And I end up begging like a pathetic loser.

He has me tell him what I need: to be slapped, to be spanked, to be spit on, to be pissed in like a urinal, to be his fuckhole. His cock fills my mouth, my nostrils, my ass, and floods me over and over. He fucks me too with his finger, three fingers, his toe, three toes.

But that’s not all that happens during the week. At the end of every day, when everyone’s left the locker room, John appears, and he bullies me too. He makes me worship his big moobs. He makes me suck him off again, and then, when he’s done, he urinates in my mouth. And he puts me up on my desk, has me spread my legs, and makes me beg for him to fuck me.

Tonight, when John’s finished and I’ve shot twice hands free on my belly, he says, “I know what Scott’s been doing to you, Coach. Do you want him to stop?”

I blush, “No, not really.”

“But if you had to choose between him and me, who would it be?” I think of Scott’s perfect body and big cock. His cocky attitude. His swagger. And then I look at John, so imperfect, so jiggly, so small where it matters. John continues, “Does it turn you on more to submit to me or to him, boy?”

And I realize how humiliating what I’m about to say is, “You, Sir.”

John smiles. “So, tomorrow morning, at 8, be sure that Scott is fucking you on this desk. That’s when I’ll arrive.”

Scott arrives like clockwork, and I manage to get him so needing to fuck me that, at 7:59, he thrusts into me. A minute later, the door opens, and there’s John. Scott clocks him, smiles: “You wanna be bullied too, huh, John?”

John doesn’t respond, but strips down. We’re all three naked. John saunters up behind Scott, who is now thrusting furiously into me. He clearly loves showing off.

John stands right behind Scott, and reaches around him, twisting his nipples hard. “Ow, boy, that hurts!” And as Scott is complaining, John positions himself against that thrusting jock ass and he pushes himself in. “What … no … what the fuck!”

Scott struggles, but John’s weight holds him in place. John whispers into Scott’s ear: “Calm down, boy. Your first time always hurts. This is your first time, isn’t it, Scotty?”

“Uh … uh … yes.”

“Well, relax, enjoy.” And John thrusts jerkily in and out. I feel Scott’s dick go soft in me and then harden again. I say, “John, he’s really liking this. Scott likes your little dick in him.”

“Yeah, I knew he would, Coach! And you know what else I think will turn him on? A little competition.”

Scott looks dazed, but he’s fucking me again, even as he’s being fucked by John, and he’s breathing hard and sweating. He says, absently, “Competition?”

“Yeah, Scott, Coach here has been with you this week, but also with me. He loves being bullied, used, and abused, as it turns out. But he has something to tell you.”

I realize what’s happening and I smile. I look into Scott’s glazed eyes and say, “That’s right, Scott. I’ve been bullied by you and by the fatso who’s fucking your ass. And you know who’s better at it? You know who’s the better man? You know who WINS here?”

Scott breathes in heavily, almost hyperventilating. I continue, “It’s John. John is the one I want to be used by.”

It’s happening and it's becoming faster..

Yeah....his cock is throbbing LONG AND HARD now for me as I get him NICE AND DEEP HAHA, ..... thats it you sexy Dope.....gonna have you stuck out here on this roof stroking that Big Drooling Meatstick for my amusement while I rewire that cocky brain a bit 😏

Yeah nice and sloooowww....gonna be a long HARD Night for ya heroboy, lets get tue rest of that suit off....thatta Boy haha, now grasp that cock. Mmm yeah its so big....and throbbing and thick and leaking and oooh oh yeah, your good and zonked now haha....we're just getting started.

As it turned out he loved submitting to me, loved being my good muscle slave. He let me toy with his body whenever I pleased, pinching and playing with his nipples, locking his cock up and teasing his tight hole all before fucking it, fucking HIM, further turning him into my pet.

In public many thought he was the head of the relationship, oh if only they knew. If only they knew that in actuality he could constantly be found begging for my cock if only they knew how much he loved to be tied up and at my mercy, how he enjoyed me smacking his beautiful muscular bubble butt all before fucking him without mercy, and plugging my come up inside of him.

“You’ve fucked up now, Chet.”

“Fuck off Brad.” Chet slammed the door to his locker shut, “And wipe that fuckin’ grin off your face.”

The back-up quarterback stayed smiling, “Three in a row now? How many more losses do you think coach is gonna...”

“McClane in my office. Now!”

Chet closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. His body was sore, coated in sweat from an intense game. Each muscle aching. His head pounding. All he wanted was to be back in his dorm, watching a movie with his girlfriend.

“Better go.” Brad patted Chet’s back with feigned sympathy, “Can’t wait for my promotion.”

“Fuck you, man.”

Chet walked off towards coach’s office, his mind racing. Was coach going to throw him off the team? What would happen to his scholarship? What would his dad say? His father always pushed him to be the best football player he could be. A pang of guilt welled up inside the young man.

“How could I have fucked up so badly?” He muttered, thinking back to several interceptions, sacks, and overall just poor leadership on his part.

Was it nerves? Was it Brad’s palpable ambition to replace him? Was it coach’s stern look? His angry shouts? This was a big game. Their rivals. Coach’s dream was to destroy them- make them look like shit. Turn them into their bitches- as coach had said during his pregame pep talk. But that was far from what happened on the field.

“This was a big game.” Coach Johnson said- his voice low- as Chet entered, “What the fuck, McClane?” Chet shivered- Johnson’s voice was low, inconsistent with the rage Chet knew simmered behind those eyes.

“I... I just...” Chet took a seat in front of his coach’s desk.

“Some people aren’t meant to lead a team.” Coach Johnson cut him off.

Chet could feel his heart sink. This was it. This was him getting kicked off the team. Demoted. He wanted to say something. To stop Coach Johnson from uttering those words. Yet, he couldn’t make a sound.

“But everyone has a use. Don’t you agree?”

Chet nodded slowly. What did Coach mean by that? Was he still going to be on the team? Maybe in a different capacity? But he wanted to play- he wanted to be a quarterback. He wanted to prove to everyone he wasn’t going to let them down.  

“Coach, I don’t...”

Coach Johnson stood up and smiled, “Chet...” He was holding something. It was black and shiny- and to the young football player, it looked to be made of a latex material, “I’m not wasteful. And I think you have some real potential.”

Chet’s heart was beating fast now and he tried to stand up- a part of him yelling to get out of there fast. But Coach Johnson placed a hand on the young man’s bare shoulder and kept him seated. And before Chet was able to say anything else- he felt something wrap around his head. He let out a pained cry as the material wrapped tightly across his eyes and ears.

“Oh fuck! Wh-what the fuck is this!?” Chet cried out gripping at the latex material that blocked his vision, “It won’t come off!” He tried desperately to pull it away- the material unrelenting.

Coach Johnson remained quiet, watching as Chet stood up and stumbled around as he gripped desperately at the mask covering his head. Unable to pull it off, Chet tried to feel around with his arms as he moved across the room, trying desperately to escape.

“Please Coach! It hurts!”

But then he saw it. The inky blackness broke, and Chet saw a spiral flashing before him. And as the spiral swirled in front of him, he heard a voice. The portion of the mask covering his ears screeching alive, blocking out the sound around him.

“You are a slut.”

“You are a cum dumpster.”

“You live to suck cock.”

“You are a gay slut.”

Chet fell to his knees, grasping again at the mask and letting out a whimper as the voice pounded into his eardrums. This wasn’t true. This was all a lie. He wasn’t gay. He wasn’t a slut. And fuck no he wasn’t a cum dumpster.

“You live to service cock.”

“You have no thoughts. No goals.”

“You have no other purpose.”

“Cum dumpster.”

Chet tried to close his eyes. To block out the spiral. But no matter what, it occupied his vision. He tried to cover his ears, but there was no relief from the voice. Instead, he fought against the voice. He wasn’t some slut... he wasn’t going to service cocks... he had goals... dreams... to make his father proud... to be... he wanted to... to be a...?

“No stop...” Chet mumbled weakly as drool fell from his mouth. He shuddered as he felt something being tightened around his neck- the smell of coach’s musk entering his nose.  

“You live to suck cock and get fucked.”

“I live to suck cock and get fucked”

Chet winced. The voice in his head- his own voice- repeated the words that echoed in his brain. Tears welled up in his eyes as he realized he couldn’t picture his future, but worse yet that his past was getting hazier. It was hard to think... hard to...

“Your mind is empty. You have no thoughts.”

“My mind is empty. I have no thoughts.”

“You have no name. You have no free will.”

“I have no... Che... no... My name... No name. I have no free will.”

“You love to suck cock. You love being a slut.”

“I... love to suck cock. I love being a slut.”

“Obey. Serve. Cum dumpster.”

“I obey. I serve. I am... I am...No...stop... I....no........."

“I am... I am a cum dump... dumpster...” The drone whispered as the last of his resistance crumbled away.

_______________

“Matthews get in here!”

Brad smirked as he walked towards Coach’s office. He had a feeling. No, he knew that this was it. He was getting promoted to starting quarterback. He was going to lead this team to victory. He was going to make them champions. And as for that fuck up Chet? Well, he could cheer from the sidelines. It wasn’t like...

“What the fuck?”

“Well?”

Brad took a step back, not really sure what he was seeing. He could recognize Chet- even with the strange latex mask around his face. But the collar? The drool? Coach’s hand teasing Chet’s mouth? And the fact that Chet was desperately sucking on coach’s fingers?

“Wh-what the...?”

“You’re the new starting quarterback, kid.” Coach Matthews smiled, “As for Chet, he’ll be helping the team in a new way.” Coach Matthews withdrew his fingers from its mouth and the drone moaned in desperation, “Have fun.” Brad looked down at the drone as it crawled to him and started rubbing its face against his jockstrap, trying desperately to suck his hardening cock through the thin fabric, “Oh! And if you fuck up, well... I’m sure you get the idea.”

Brad gulped as Coach Matthews left the two of them alone. The new starting quarterback had many thoughts. Many concerns. And many questions. But he couldn’t deny that his cock was getting harder, nor that it was the team’s new cum dumpster that was to blame. Brad didn’t really know what he was getting himself into, but figured that could wait.

“You ready, bitch?” He smirked and released his thick cock, letting it slap the drone’s face, “I know you want this, slut.” He pushed into the drone’s open, desperate mouth.

Here’s the damage: 18 days straight in tighty whities, looking like a damn nerd. Cumming? Cut down to once every five days—me, the guy who usually busts twice a day like it’s nothing. Gym time meant I was allowed to wear a jockstrap, but then I had to sleep with that sweat soaked jock tied my face the night before each release. Smelling my own balls and sweat had me leaking precum like a fuckin’ hose—shit was insane. And if I stayed hard over 45 minutes? Had to wedgie myself, hard. Ended up yanking my underwear up my ass 2-3 times a day. Ended up icing my dick down like a loser just to dodge it. Me, the king of bullying fags, turned into a horny, wedgied bitch.

I don’t know what to even say. I’m adjusting to a new reality. I was asked to post that pic, but I didn’t really have a choice.

What does that mean?

Well, I need to tell someone. I got caged. Been on and off with it for a couple weeks now.

What? You’re a total top. How do you get caged?

That stupid faggot I hook up with every once in a while, got me into is and I can’t figure out how to stop. He told me it would make me harder to wear it for an hour before we had sex, so I tried it. Took it off to pound him and he was right. I was rock hard. I fell asleep after and woke up with it back on my cock. It felt so good. Ugh.

Well, as a top it’s not the norm but there’s nothing wrong with you being a faggot.

Don’t call me that.

Remember what you told Kevin when he got caged? You said, “You’ve got a cage on your cock. You’re a faggot. It’s not a big deal.”

I remember. I’m a caged faggot. This is not what I wanted.