Disclaimer: The characters in this story are above the age of consent, but that kinda goes out the window since they engage in non-consensual behavior. The fact that it turns out all right for our fictional protagonists’ relationship doesn’t make it OK IRL. Always keep it safe, sane, and consensual. Even if that means you have to learn how to communicate better. Some details I left vague intentionally, so you fill them in however will make you more horny. This story is dedicated to Strappeddown, who inspired me to go back to work on it. And to Padlock86, who forced me to finish it.
Aaron was a little surprised when Toben sat down across from him in the Dining Hall.
When did he start feeling surprised to see Toben at his table? Back in High School, and even before, they had been inseparable. But since they came here to Academy, Toben had just… faded away. Was it because Toben was a starter on the team now? Aaron didn’t see why that should matter, but apparently Toben’s new friends did.
But now here he was, eating Aaron’s fries like he used to, talking about classes, and whether Aaron could score him one of those new helmets. The urge to please him was strong, but cynicism bubbled to the surface.
“Is that why you’re here?”
Toben looked startled. “What?”
“Are you talking to me now because you want a new helmet?”
He actually looked hurt, then angry. “You think coach wouldn’t tell you to give me a new fucking helmet if I asked him for one? I don’t need favors from you.”
Had subsequent events gone another way, perhaps Aaron would have had time to reflect that Toben was saying he didn’t need a self-serving motive to hang out with him, but at the time, all Aaron heard was Toben talking about how important he was now. The fact that Aaron was an equipment manager hadn’t mattered to Toben in high school, but here apparently it did. Somehow Aaron had expected Academy to be less like this, not more.
He was also suddenly aware of just how much it bothered him that Toben had drifted away. Instead of being glad to be hanging out again, he was pissed.
“Well then, I’m honored by your visit. Do you mind if I tweet about it now?”
Toben dropped a half-eaten fry back onto Aaron’s plate as his jaw clenched. He started to retort, but visibly checked himself.
“I came looking for you, dickwad, because I wanted to see if you want to get in on a prank.”
That brought Aaron up short. He and Toben had been famous for their long-running pranks since before high school. No one had been safe from them, not even each other. If Toben wanted to start that up again, it would be a great reason to spend more time together.
So a few hours later, at the end of practice, Aaron was ready with a case of athletic tape from his equipment room. He headed over to the football field, and waited for Toben and their victim to show up. Toben arrived first, still geared up from practice, helmet in hand. Aaron never got tired of seeing him in his pads, even though he did for a few hours every day.
“Over here,” Toben said, and led Aaron over to the nearest goalpost.
“So what’s the plan?”
“Simple enough. I’ll just get him up against the pole here, like this,” Toben said, guiding Aaron so his back was against the metal post, “and I’ll hold him there while you go to town with the tape.”
Toben bent down to open up the case of tape. Compared to some of the stunts they’d pulled, Aaron though this one seemed kind of simplistic. Toben stood up with a couple of rolls and handed one to Aaron.
“How long until he shows up?” Aaron asked, turning towards the entrance gate. That’s when he discovered he was stuck to the pole, or at least his clothes were. He knew instantly what was going on. “You dick!” he shouted, but he wasn’t that angry. The games were on again!
He turned back, arms out, ready to fend off Toben’s attempts to get tape around his limbs, but Toben was no longer holding the roll. Instead, he just grabbed one of Aaron’s arms and slammed it against the metal column, just behind Aaron’s torso. As soon as Toben let go, Aaron tried to raise his arm again, but his shirt had bonded with the metal.
“Contact nanocement,” Toben said, with a grin. He feinted at Aaron’s other arm, then crouched down and slammed into Aaron’s knees, pressing his pants against the post.
“Shit!” Aaron exclaimed. This was not going well. It was a piece of cake for Toben to grab Aaron’s remaining arm and press it into place. The glue was not that strong, and Aaron was already working his clothes loose from the post, but it slowed him down enough to make it easy for Toben to finally put the tape to use.
Aaron was getting hard. This was close to a fantasy of his. Toben started at waist level to make sure his arms stayed pinned. He wrapped all the way up to the elbows. Then he did several turns around Aaron’s ankles. At that point, Aaron’s odds of getting himself free were basically zero.
Toben stood up and gave Aaron a grin. He was close enough that Aaron was engulfed in a cloud of Toben’s post-practice stench. Aaron’s growing dick was held at an uncomfortable angle by his boxer briefs. “This was supposed to be for Mike,” Toben said, “but I changed my mind at lunch, when you treated me like shit.” Then he resumed his work, now at a more leisurely pace, taking time to apply the tape evenly and without wrinkles. He started at Aaron’s feet and worked his way up. Aaron saw Toben notice his boner, and he squirmed uncomfortably, but there was nothing he could do about it. Toben chuckled and grabbed his own crotch, as if to adjust his jock, but of course that was unnecessary and impossible, since he wore a new-style cup.
The taping proceeded upward, until Aaron was completely mummified from toes to shoulders. He had struggled against his confinement the whole time, partly for show, because one is supposed to want to escape from being tied up; but secretly to enjoy how effective the bondage was.
“Only a couple of rolls left,” Toben said, as he reached into the front of his pads. With some uncomfortable squirming, he managed to release his cup and pull it out. Aaron knew immediately what Toben was up to.
“Forget it, Toben, that’s enough!” he said as firmly as he could, while his cock began to twitch. Toben ignored him and pressed the cup, upside down, against Aaron’s face, so it covered his nose and mouth. Aaron saw the blackness inside as it approached his face. Then he was looking over the pointed end of it at Toben, who was awkwardly holding the cup and a roll of tape against Aaron’s face, while pulling a length off the roll with his other hand. Quickly enough, he got this strip over the cup and around Aaron’s head and the pole. As Toben used up the last two rolls covering everything but Aaron’s eyes, Aaron could feel the cup’s smartmatter flange trying momentarily to bond with his flesh. It was a strange and uncomfortable sensation, but the cup gave up after a few seconds, apparently sensing a mis-configuration.
Aaron was completely immobilized now, his head pinned against the pole, just like his arms and legs. He briefly wondered about how they would get the glue out of his hair, but he decided to focus on more immediate concerns. He was trapped, completely at Toben’s mercy. What would Toben do next? How long would he keep him here? How was he going to get his leaking cock straightened out?
“You suck,” he said. His voice was even more muffled than he expected, because he was speaking into the warp bubble inside the cup. On the other hand, he was breathing the smell of Toben’s sweaty crotch.
But Toben heard him, or knew he said what he had always said when Toben had managed to pull a good prank on him.
“You know what? I think you love it,” Toben replied, reaching towards Aaron’s crotch. Aaron was trying futilely to pull away from Toben’s hand, but Toben suddenly snatched it back and stared towards the entrance gate. Aaron wanted to see what had drawn Toben’s attention, but he couldn’t turn his head. He could only try to deduce what was happening by listening intently and observing Toben.
Toben turned into a different person before his eyes. His stance and face changed.
Just like that, Aaron was no longer aroused.
Then he could hear, even through the tape and over the pounding in his ears, that people were coming into the stadium. It sounded like a bunch of guys, laughing and giving each other shit.
“What the fuck!” one of them shouted, and they all stopped talking. Then they were laughing again, but it was a very different kind of laughter. Aaron started struggling as hard as he could to get loose. He knew it was useless, but he couldn’t stop his body’s panicked reaction.
Toben grinned towards the approaching voices, and his grin had changed to match the laughter.
“Hey guys!” he said.
They finally came into Aaron’s view. It was five of the football players, some of them tossing balls from hand to hand. Cameron, one of the team captains said, “What sort of extracurriculars are you up to, Toben?”
“I was just trying to persuade the equipment manager to snag me one of the new helmets that came in.”
Aaron felt like he had been punched in the gut. But now that he was surrounded, his fight or flight response had switched to play dead, and he held completely still, saying nothing.
He held still during the discussion about how they could help ‘persuade’ him, and he closed his eyes and held still during the actual process of ‘persuasion’. The cup and the tape turned out to be blessings in disguise, keeping most of the saliva and phlegm from actually reaching him. But they didn’t protect him from the pain of their punches and slaps; and they didn’t hide his tears from his tormentors. They had already seemed to be ramping up their torments, but the tears sent them into a frenzy. Aaron was experiencing a group of educated Academy athletes turning into a sadistic mob, each of them goading the others to greater cruelty.
One of them shouted that they should piss on Aaron, and he actually heard them fumbling with their belts and zipper. But then he heard Toben’s voice right next to him. “OK guys, I think Aaron’s persuaded now, right Aaron?”
Aaron tried to nod his head, but the tape held it fast. He felt a painful jab in his side. “Right Aaron?” Toben’s voice was much sterner.
For the first time since the football players arrived, Aaron opened his mouth. “Yes.” he squeaked. What had happened to his voice? The warp bubble swallowed it up.
A hand smacked the side of his head, “RIGHT, AARON?”
Aaron shouted back, “RIGHT! I’ll get you a fucking new helmet!” Then, having opened his mouth, he couldn’t keep the sobs in anymore.
I woke up with a start, my heart racing. Everything was quiet in my room, and no light came from the window. I had only been asleep for a couple of hours.
I hated that nightmare. It had been almost a year since the goalpost; why couldn’t I just forget about it?
But even free from the dream, I was dwelling on that day again. Not just the pain, fear and most of all, the sense of betrayal, but the sensations — the glue grabbing my clothes, the tape squeezing me, the cup against my face, even the feeling of it trying to bond with my flesh… I tried to distract myself from the bigger picture by focusing on technical details. How did the bonding work? How much logic did a cup carry to know when it should or shouldn’t complete a bond? How did they make a warp dimple?
That’s when I got the seed of an idea for getting back at Toben. Giving him a brand new helmet soaked in my urine just hadn’t been enough.
Needless to say it takes considerable force to warp space-time in a stable manner. I once read that if you rested a pool ball in a warp dimple a few inches across and only an inch deep and then released the warp, the ball would rise a few thousand feet before heading back towards earth.
So it is a tribute to our technological abilities that men playing sports routinely entrust their junk to such dimples without a second thought. Thousands of guys every day in the last 10 years; running, jumping, kicking and getting kicked, tackling and being tackled, and not one pair of nuts has been pureed and driven up through an abdominal cavity.
It takes quite a bit more force to make the little warp pocket poke through the fabric of space to become a hole instead of a dimple; and quite a bit of quantum engineering goes into making the other end come out where it’s supposed to (and not, for example, someplace that sucks all of the air in your room into outer space). Needless to say such holes are quite a bit more expensive than your garden variety jock.
So you will probably think me crazy to have acquired a couple such pairs just to pull a prank on my friend Toben. What can I say? Grandpa Hamish had left me some money, and I was feeling vengeful.
Maybe you don’t play sports, and just sit there in the bleachers trying to think up an excuse to try on the gear. For you, I’ll explain how the modern cup works. Like I said, it has a warp dimple in it. This keeps the athlete’s junk safe, far away from the dangerous action. The outer shell is made of graphene and is virtually indestructible. It is shaped much like old-style jock cups: an oval bulge that is just slightly larger than the volume your junk takes up. If you were wearing one under your clothes, hardly anyone would be able to tell, because the bulge looks pretty natural. The edge faces you and is curved like a bent teardrop, so that it rests naturally against the contours of your crotch. The pointy end goes down below your balls into the narrow area between your legs.
Besides impact, the modern cup is designed to prevent shearing (that’s when the cup slides laterally across your body, trying to shear your junk off). It can’t shear, because the flange is made with smartmatter that adjusts to your exact shape, then extends millions of carbon fiber tendrils into your body, where they bond the cup to your hip bones. It becomes part of your skeletal system. This may sound alarming, but you hardly feel it when it’s going on, and the cup does this bio-mimetic handshake with your immune system so your body doesn’t try to reject the fibers.
So it’s attached pretty well, but it’s easy to remove. There is a button on each side of the cup where it starts to get narrow. You just press both of them at the same time and the cup instantly releases.
The biggest downside of the modern cup, as far as I’m concerned, is that it makes jockstraps in the locker room virtually obsolete.
Step one was easy enough. I stole his jock after the last away game, so that he would have to buy a new one. There was no way I’d have been able to switch his old one without him noticing, so this way he would think he’d left it behind at the other school’s locker room.
Step two was a little trickier. I had to get to his new jock sometime after he bought it and before he put it on. But this was no challenge. Did I not have a keycard for all the lockers?
So when classes ended and it was time for practice, he suspected nothing. He popped his new jock out of the package, tossed the box into the corner, put the cup on, then put on the rest of his gear, and off he went to practice.
The trap was already as good as sprung at that point, but I didn’t want him to cause a scene, nor did I actually want him to get into trouble with the coach. The anticipation was driving me mad, but I stuck with the plan. He would get his first big surprise after practice.
I knew him well enough to know that he tended to loiter around the locker room, shooting the shit with the guys. He always showered last, and I knew why. But today, I used this fact to make my plan go smoothly without any public displays of agitation.
At this point, I was watching him on my tablet from the equipment room. My buddy Kev had whipped me up a hack that integrated the feeds of all the cameras in the locker room into one 3D view (most people knew about the school cameras and the Homeland Security cameras, but few realized just how many other cameras ended up in school locker rooms. Most of them were for just what you’d think: Real Locker Room Naked Guy porn. But there were other cams, too. One that I’d found was apparently just so Dave Ng’s parents could keep an eye on him).
Anyhow, they were all working for me now. Toben didn’t know it, but Kev’s hack also bypassed Toben’s off-the-shelf hack which was supposed to keep him from showing up on the feeds.
So he was alone, and he’d already taken off his shoulder and elbow pads, gloves and jersey. He was strolling casually around the locker rooms, making sure he was really the only one left. Then, as usual, he headed for Devlin’s locker for a little ‘aromatherapy’. That’s when I sprang the trap.
A command entered in an app on my tablet disabled the jock’s release buttons, so the smartmatter flange would not un-bond from his flesh. I could have done this sooner, but what if he had decided to take a leak?
I should step back and give a general description of my setup. I’ll save some details for later. I’d mounted one end of the warp tube inside his cup, just like a regular warp dimple (“tube” might not be the best word for it: the length of such a tube is exactly 0 millimeters). The other end was mounted on the inside of a largish box that I’d built out of buckyfiber and resin. He didn’t realize it yet, but I owned him!
He was caught up in his smell-athon with Devlin’s gear. I had an evil grin on my face. I knew his pervy routine, and any second now he’d stop pawing his groin and try to take his jock off to finish the job — yep, there he goes!
The look on his face was priceless, and I had it on disk.
Then, while he was still more puzzled than alarmed, I left the equipment room with a load of towels and walked by the locker area towards the laundry room. I casually glanced his way and said, “Hey Toben,” as I walked by. I suddenly stopped and said, “Hey, isn’t your locker on the other aisle?”
Sounding distracted, Toben said, “I was borrowing some of Devlin’s tape.”
I looked him up and down, smirking, and said, “Uh huh”. This was a bit of a ritual of ours at this point. I continued to the laundry room, where I buried my face in some clean towels to keep him from hearing my laughter.
My little stroll past him at that moment was to make it seem like I was not the culprit. If his stuck jock was a prank and I was behind it, wouldn’t I be gloating and taunting him? Maybe I was being overly subtle, but that’s what I did. I hoped it would put him off my trail, because we usually went straight for the taunting when we pulled a prank on each other.
I pulled my tablet out of the pile of dirty towels and went back to watching him remotely. He was repeatedly pinching the buttons on each side of the cup and trying to tug it away from his groin, but of course just tugging would never have worked. The carbon fibers had anchored themselves to his pelvic bones, and the smartmatter had fused with his skin to make a seal. Until it disengaged, the cup was part of his body. A glance at a small open window on my tablet showed me that his hard-on was quickly subsiding. Yeah, I had cameras in the box with his junk. There were also brackets in the box for the other fun toy Toben would have the pleasure of experiencing in the next several days, plus the plumbing, made from the other warp tube; very convenient.
I started up a load of towels while watching to see what he’d do next. He went back over to his locker, his ardor for Devlin’s pads crushed by more pressing concerns. (I never did understand why he was so fascinated by Devlin’s gear. To me, the whole team’s lockers smelled equally intoxicating – hey, I wasn’t equipment manager for nothing).
When he had stripped all the rest of his gear off and was back to trying to get his cup to release, I headed back towards the equipment room. I said, “I’m going to be locking up in a few minutes.”
Trying to sound like he was not freaking out, he said, “Yeah, all right.”
From the equipment room, I kept an eye on him. After getting dressed, he scooped up the package the cup had come in from the corner where he has tossed it, then left the locker room.
I didn’t need this shit. Fucking defective technology!
And crappy customer service. I got their web address from the box and crawled all over their site, looking for a live help link, but there wasn’t one. Of course the online help form link was broken.
I googled around for how other people had handled a stuck jock, but apparently I was the only guy in the whole fucking world with this problem. Figures.
And I needed to piss pretty fucking soon. This thing was really cramping my style. It had already kept me from jacking off in the locker room…
How the fuck am I going to jack off???
That thought really freaked me out, and I went back to poking at the useless release buttons another dozen times.
But I got logical again and realized that pissing was a bigger issue right then. I hadn’t really reached inside a jock since I got my first one when I was 12, so I wasn’t really sure how much room was in there. I just knew my junk had never touched the sides or bottom while I was wearing one. Come to think of it, I didn’t know how much room a typical piss would take up. Could I even piss once? What would happen if there was too much? The edges were sealed to my skin.
As I was working up the courage to take myself to the emergency room, my phone pinged. It was a text message from a handle I didn’t recognize:
JUNKBOX: I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE THINKING, BUT DON’T WORRY
I started to type a reply, but there was another message:
JUNKBOX: YOU CAN JUST TELL PEOPLE THAT IT’S YOUR LUCKY JOCK, AND YOU’RE NOT TAKING IT OFF UNTIL AFTER THE BIG GAME
I typed, “Who the fuck…” but a third message popped up:
JUNKBOX: OH, AND DON’T WORRY ABOUT PEEING. THERE’S LOTS OF ROOM
Someone was pulling a fucking prank on me.
That’s when I broke my bookcase.
My mind kept switching tracks. Who did this? How was I going to get back at them? How the fuck could there be enough room in there? How did I get this thing off of me without having to grovel before whoever did this to me? How was I going to get off?
How was I going to get off?
The last question was becoming more and more urgent. I had pissed as soon as I stopped throwing things — never felt a drop — and almost immediately got a boner. Why was I hard? This was fucked up. But the more I thought about the fact that I couldn’t get off, the more I wanted to get off right now.
I tried texting back to JUNKBOX, but there was no response. I’m no net geek, so I couldn’t think of anything but Google for figuring out who JUNKBOX was, and Google didn’t know either. I thought about contacting Derek or Scott or Aaron to see if I could trick one of them into revealing if he was the asshole who did this to me; but I couldn’t figure out a way to without revealing to the others that someone had gotten the best of me. And the thought of anyone finding out how I had been pwned had me shitting myself.
Did he really mean “after the Big Game”?? That was three weeks from now! I can’t keep this on for three weeks. I want to get off NOW!
I kept finding my hands messing with the cup; tugging on it, knocking on it, or rubbing it like a fucking defective genie’s lamp.
I realized I couldn’t do anything about it that night, so I tried to do my homework. Good thing I didn’t have a paper due the next day, because my concentration was shit.
Eventually I went to bed. I figured it would be a long, sleepless night, but I slept right thru until my alarm clock woke me up. Morning wood is weird when there’s nothing for it to press up against.
How was I going to get through the day without letting on that someone was pwning me big time? I had to keep it together and act like everything was cool. And I definitely wasn’t showering with the team. Good thing that wasn’t out of the ordinary for me. There was no way I was going to take that asshole’s advice and say it was my fucking lucky jock.
At the same time, I had to keep an eye out to see if anyone was acting weird around me.
He’s the one who was supposed to be going crazy with need, but I was ready to jump out of my skin. It took all of my self-control to stick with my multi-day plan. I had homework to do, but I couldn’t focus. It turned out that letting him stew in his juices meant I had to stew as well. And this was just the first night.
Still, I could do some things with my time that he couldn’t. For one, I could grab my cock, which was throbbing and dripping from knowing that he couldn’t grab his; and I could shoot my load. Again.
For another, I could turn on the light and the camera in my special box and watch a feed of his throbbing, dripping cock while I was stroking mine. My god, was he alway this horny, or was he turned on by my makeshift chastity trap? Heh, was he in for a long week!
The urge to gently tease this oddly out-of-place tool was nearly overpowering. See what I mean? Sticking with the plan was going to be a challenge. No touching yet! Good thing the box was in the team equipment room and not here – I couldn’t move it around just yet, or he’d notice something going on. So the box stayed where it was.
I hardly slept an hour that night. How was I going to get through the day without giving myself away to him? I had two classes with him; should I ditch them? I still hadn’t made up my mind when I walked to my first class.
I was surprised that school actually helped me stay sane by giving me other things to pay attention to. In a way, it wasn’t that different from most days. Most days I got horny and couldn’t do anything about it because I was in class. So I was used to waiting until after practice to take care of my daily urges. Whoa, thinking about what I normally do after practice was a bad idea. Got to stay focused on what the teacher’s saying. And revenge.
In my Materials Programming class, we were working with cyber-rheological fluids — basic smartmatter that could be programmed to change from liquid to solid, and even to flow from place to place a bit. The teacher mentioned that a common use was paint-on casts, which replaced the old fiberglass kind. That’s when I got my idea for how I would get my revenge.
It would take some serious coding, but Materials Programming was my best subject. Maybe I got it from my Dad, who made his living doing old-skool programming. Old people like him didn’t have nanotech, so programming and engineering were separate subjects for them. But the skills of hacking were the same for smartmatter as for computers.
I would also need enough smartmatter, but I could swipe that from class. When the teacher was helping Omar with a problem, I changed the parameters on the feedstock generator so it would output more matter than the class needed. I could yoink the excess every day until I had enough.
“That’s one too many zeroes.”
I twitched, hard, then spun around.
“Fuck, Kev, you scared the crap out of me!” I said, looking up. Geez he’s tall. And he’s one of the few blonds in the school. He stands out like a lighthouse. The track team, the water polo team, and the volleyball team all tried to recruit him, but he wasn’t into sports. Not enough electrons, I guess.
“Side project?” he said, gesturing at my settings.
“Uh, yeah. Just a little fun.” Then I got an idea, “Hey Kev, I don’t suppose you have any medical monitoring or support patches for this crud?”
“What kind of fun needs medical monitoring?”
“Uh, you know, better safe than sorry.”
“Sounds interesting. Let me see your design and maybe I can help you tweak it.”
No way was I going to let Kev in on this baby. He might think I was a freak, or worse yet, try to talk me out of it.
“Look Kev, can you fucking help me out with the patch or not?” Crap, why do I always do that?
Kev just sort of smirked at me. “There’s the vocabulary we know and love. Whatever Toben. I’ll send you a patch. Let me know if you need any help figuring it out.”
As if. Kev may be a genius, but I know how to RTFM and make API calls.
The rest of the day, I was on the lookout for anyone acting weird around me. This didn’t go so well. When I really paid attention to what people were doing, they all seemed weird. Lots of people were just looking away as I looked at them. I caught at least five guys checking out my crotch. Where they all in on it? Or did guys check out crotches all the time and I just hadn’t been paying attention before? Did I check out crotches? Come to think of it, could you actually tell if someone was wearing a cup under their regular clothes?
So then I spent a lot of the day staring at other guys’ crotches, trying to guess what was underneath. How fucked up was that? Of course, checking out crotches meant I was thinking about cocks, which kept reminding me about my little problem.
Usually waiting until after school and practice was bearable, but during my 2 o’clock class, I had to be excused to go to the bathroom, hide in a stall, and grab my covered crotch while thrusting my hips against the air. I could feel my cock in there. It was so hard the skin felt too tight, but nothing I did could make the slightest bit of friction. Fuck I was so horny!
Eventually I chilled out enough to go back to class. I had to catch whoever was doing this to me and make him take this fucking thing off of me, because I didn’t think I could take it much longer.
Oh shit, he caught me checking him out! I’m sure I flinched like an idiot too. I didn’t dare look over to see what he was doing next, so I sat there, shoulders hunched, waiting for him to grab me and beat the crap out of me. Eventually I decided that wasn’t going to happen, and I stole a quick glance at him. He was looking at someone else with the same suspicious intensity. So I watched him (still trying not to be obvious) all that hour, as he continuously scanned everyone in the hall. He was trying to figure out who had his nuts. Knowing this helped me relax somewhat, which hopefully would help me not look suspicious. I didn’t want him figuring things out too soon and ruining my plans for him.
Then I noticed Kev. Hard to miss him! But what caught my eye was the fact that he was staring at Toben. Then he suddenly looked at me appraisingly. It’s hard not to wonder what Kev knows about with all his hacks. I decided to ignore him.
The next phase started during practice, not that he noticed. I figured it would be easier to do some things without him noticing if he was working out and focused on his game. First, a little bremelanotide-6 to keep him interested. This was usually applied with a patch, but he would definitely notice if I stuck a patch to his balls. So I took advantage of the smartmatter flange. The flange bonded with your skin, hand-shaking with your immune system, and then acting as a preventive barrier to keep nasties out where the carbon fiber anchors were passing through your skin to anchor to your hip bones. I had tweaked this set-up so it also could transport molecules subcutaneously. Good luck with the studying tonight, Toben! Second, I had to mount the Venus 6500 in the box for tomorrow. The brackets were already installed, but I didn’t want him to notice me jostling around, which would clue him in to the fact that he was totally exposed. That was for later.
I got distracted a few times, just staring. His balls were getting sweaty from his workout. And near the end of practice, he started to chub up. The brem was kicking in right on schedule. We were going to have a long night.
Practice went pretty OK. Working out and focusing on drills and getting yelled at by Coach, practicing with the guys on my team all helped me focus on something else for a while. And I figured tiring myself out would cool things off for a while.
But at the end of practice, when we took a knee to hear Coach’s pep talk, I couldn’t help enjoying the usual feeling of being there all geared up, surrounded by the guys in their gear. The smell of all those well-used pads was always strongest when mixed with body heat and fresh sweat. And just my luck, Devlin was kneeling right next to me. Quicker than usual, my cock was swelling. Fuck! An image popped into my head of me jumping on Devlin right there and fucking his brains out, both of us still suited up in our sweaty gear.
Almost instantly, I was hard as steel. Shit, when would coach stop talking? I had get the hell out of there before I did something crazy in front of everybody.
That thought somehow took over my fantasy, and suddenly I was picturing the whole team standing around staring at us while I got it on with Devlin. They had their cocks out, stroking themselves while they watched. God, I was so fucking horny. I could feel precum oozing out of my rock-hard dick. What the hell was happening?
Devlin was looking at me funny. Had I just made a growling noise? I forced myself to look at Coach and keep my face blank. I struggled to pay attention to what he was saying.
Finally he let us go. The locker room was hellish. Now all my buddies were getting naked around me and the craziest horny ideas kept popping into my head. There was no fucking way I was going to hit the showers with my jock on, and I had to get away from everybody ASAP. While most of the guys were in the showers I stripped off my uniform and pads and put on my regular clothes. I was hoping no one would be around to notice, but Sergei and Hector were taking their sweet time getting undressed and they started giving me shit for changing without showering. Sergei commented on how much I stank, and then my worst fear came true when Hector noticed that I hadn’t taken off my cup. I was blushing like crazy, but I tried to act casual about it. I said the first thing that came into my desperate mind: that it was my fucking lucky jock. I couldn’t believe I was doing what that fucker who texted me had told me to do, but I didn’t have any other alibi worked out. Sergei gave a scornful laugh, but Hector looked like maybe he was buying it.
Now that I was humiliated as well as going out of mind with horniness, I had to get out of there. I made up some bullshit about having to pick up my dad at the airport, and I bolted from the locker room. I managed to make it to my car before I started clawing at my crotch. I was so worked up I couldn’t fucking stand it!
Eventually I got a grip on myself enough to take my hands away from my crotch and start the car. I looked around. If anyone had been watching, I must have put on quite a show. I pulled out of the parking lot and headed home, fighting the urge to run the lights and break the speed limits. Now would not be a good time to get pulled over. New fantasy: a hot cop handcuffing me and making me blow him. Fuck fuck fuck! What was wrong with me?
The only advantage of being at home was that I could lock myself in my room and be less afraid of getting caught acting like a psycho, or worse yet, doing any of the things popping into my head every few seconds. It still left me with my brain and my cock torturing me.
When I thought about how horny I was, eventually I would start thinking about who did this to me. Sometimes I would worry about how long this would go on, or if he was going to humiliate me in public before he let me go, but mostly I thought about how to catch the asshole, and getting revenge. Of course I figured it was someone getting back at me for one of my pranks, but this didn’t seem like something any of the likely suspects would do. I figured all of them would be rubbing it in that they’d burned me so hard, but no one acted like they knew something was going on. But it had to be somebody! I just hadn’t come up with any tricks for catching the bastard, and trying to read it in people’s faces at school had been a bust. With a sigh, I gave up on that for a while and went work on my vengeance project.
Like with everything else that day, it was a fucking pain to stay focused enough to code. Not only was there my overall horniness problem; there was the fact that I thought my invention was hot. I kept wandering off into picturing me caught in the trap I was designing. Then I would shake myself and get back to work. Before I went to bed, I had the basic programming done, but I had thought up a bunch more features. So I got to fantasize about them while cupping my jock until I finally fell asleep.
To be continued …
Metal would like to thank the author, GratDelay, for this story! If you enjoyed it so far, please leave a comment in the comments section below. You can also find GratDelay on Recon!
Today’s story is sponsored by Russian Captured Boys