... and let's see what happens

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.”