By GratDelay

Toben

Sometime after our lunch talk, I decided not to put Aaron through another public humiliation at the hands of the team. Our pranks on each other had… changed. So, change of plans. What could I do to him before we got him back to a private place? There wasn’t much to do that was more extreme than the total helplessness and uncontrollable stimulation… I guessed I could spice things up a little bit, given that he’d be in the locker room.

In the hour before practice, I tweaked and saved some programs. Then it was just a matter of waiting until my last class was out.

Aaron was already in his equipment room when I got to the Sports Center. I ignored him and geared up. But first I sabotaged my own shoulder pads.

Once at practice, it only took one drill for my pads to fall apart. Coach sent me over to the bench for Aaron to fix them. He was already opening up his kit, but I told him quietly, “Tell coach you need to take me back to the locker room to fix this.” He looked at me like he was trying to figure out if he really wanted to go along with it, then he shrugged and did as he was told. We headed back to the locker room. I went to my locker and got the buckle I had removed. In a few seconds my pad were as good as new. Aaron just stood watching me anxiously.

“OK now let’s get you situated,” I said, grabbing my phone from the locking part of my locker (our “lockers” are actually open cubbies to hang our gear in, so it will dry better. Underneath each cubby is a smaller cage which actually locks, so you can keep your valuables safe while you are practicing). I guided him over to Carl’s locker, sat him down on the bench and then froze him there. Carl was out since Tuesday with a broken wrist, so his locker was filled with his gear. I rearranged things a bit for maximum impact — oh look, Carl’s jockstrap! Yeah, Carl used the old-fashioned kind; fabric wrapped around a printed graphene cup. I positioned that on top of his piled-up gear.

Some more messing with my phone, and the shell started climbing up Aaron’s neck and down his hands. That’s such a trip to watch. This time the head part didn’t cover his face. It was like a wetsuit hood — well, except that it was contoured to every inch of his head, so the shape of one of his ears was clearly visible. Then I put him in “action figure” mode and got him to stand up. I positioned him facing Carl’s locker, and put one hand on the locker frame for stability, because I wasn’t going to have the base circle spread under his feet this time. I maneuvered his other hand so it was grabbing his junk, not that his junk could feel it, since it was still in its hard shell. Finally I leaned him over so his nose was just over Carl’s well-used jock, which was sitting on top of a pile of pads that Carl had been playing and practicing in all season long. Nice and ripe.

Aaron said, “You suck”.

“You’re welcome,” I answered. I turned up the size and intensity on his ass knocker. He inhaled sharply through his nose, then moaned. Grinning, I put my phone away and headed back to practice.

I’m sure Aaron was afraid he’d be found like that, but what he didn’t know was that I’d set things up so that if there was any movement in the locker room, he’d be unfrozen again — and the shell would retract from his head and hands.

I was pretty proud of my quick hack, since the shell didn’t actually have any motion sensor capability. What it did have was a light sensor, and the locker room had a motion sensor. A minute or so after I left the locker room, the lights would go out. Then if anyone else entered, the lights would come back on, and that would trigger the shell to switch modes. That was my theory anyway. Of course I hadn’t really tested it out…

Aaron

I lost my hard-on.

I didn’t think it was possible, with the bremelanotide-6 zinging my brain and the thing in my ass zinging my prostate; with the smartmatter shell holding me in perfect total bondage; with my face hovering over a pile of gear reeking of sweat and hard male exertion — But when Toben walked out of the locker room leaving me alone like this, I felt my dick shrink away from the hard surface that had defined its shape since lunch.

Without a hard-on, the pulsing in my ass was irritating, almost painful. The rigid cast that held me was uncomfortable and too warm. Carl’s jock inches from my face was disgusting.

The thing was, I really didn’t like being exposed like this. Someone could come in and find me at any moment, and there was nothing I could do about it. But this was not the same as when the football players turned their sadism on me after Toben taped me to the goalpost. This time I was afraid I’d been seen doing what I actually wanted to do — what I actually did do, sometimes. That is, I was afraid I was going to get caught.

That’s not what I was thinking about at the time. I was simply feeling panicky. Would someone come in to the locker room? If they did, what could I do to get out of my situation? In other words, my brain was spinning uselessly.

I tried to get a grip. I’d ruled the locker room for three years, and I knew the odds that someone would come in during practice were very very small. I almost calmed down. Then I started to dwell on whether or not Toben intended to release me before the team got back. Maybe his plan was for the team to catch me perving out on one of their mate’s equipment. There was the fact that he had left his phone in his locker when he left me here — how would he release me?? I started to sweat and hyperventilate all over again.

And then the lights went out, controlled by the motion sensor. It had only been a minute since he walked out! I groaned.

Just a few minutes later, something flipped over in my mind. Maybe I could only sustain panic so long when nothing was happening, but I’m sure it had to do more with the bremelanotide-6 directly tweaking my hypothalamus. I fantasized about Carl finding me hunched over his locker, and instead of beating the crap out of me, he takes advantage of my helplessness. In this fantasy, my cock and ass are exposed, not covered by a hard shell. His hand replaces mine wrapped around my hard shaft (and it is hard again!), and it’s his cock, not the smartmatter, that is penetrating my vulnerable ass. His other hand is pressing my face into the pile of his sweaty pads, topped by his ripe jock.

Just like that, I was overcome with lust. Once again I was dealing with my overpowering need. I tried to squirm inside my prison, to thrust my hips forward enough to increase the pressure on the most sensitive part of my dick, but it was never enough. I growled with frustration, then paused abruptly. What if someone heard me? I resolved to be more quiet in my total lack of control.

By the light from the skylights I could see the details of the gear about an inch from my face. I was staring at the seam where the jock’s waistband ends came together just above the cup pouch, which was directly beneath my nose. Just above the waistband I could see one edge of a pad tucked into its pouch in his hip girdle. I could see the faint lines of sweat stains crossing these bits of fabric.

And the smell! What is it about the smell of well-used gear? For some reason it wasn’t the same as running shoes, for example. Whenever I savored that aroma, I imagined it was some testosterone-laden pheromone mixed in with the plastic and bacteria and mildew that affected me like a drug. Some pheromone that was only produced when a guy sweated with real exertion; when he was striving against other guys in intense competition. Maybe I was just projecting meaning onto my ability to detect differences in gear smells, but it made my fascination all the more compelling.

If I could have, I would have bent further forward and planted my face right in Carl’s jock, but that was just another tantalizing desire withheld from me.

I tried saying “fuck” under my breath a couple of times, but was startled when I realized I was shouting it. I was able to clamp my mouth shut and keep it down to a fierce whining in the back of my throat. I didn’t think I could take much more of this.

But I realized that it didn’t matter if I could take it or not, because it would go on regardless. And that was HOT. As soon as I thought this, a wave of intense pleasure shot up my spine. “Oh God!” I shouted as every muscle in my body spasmed. A moment later it was over.

And I was still hard. What the fuck was that??? I had never felt anything like it, definitely not without cumming.

I went limp, exhausted. But I was still hard and horny, and my prostate was still getting stroked. I kept groaning with need.

I had two more waves of this intense pleasures which did nothing to relieve the feeling of overpowering horniness. They were spaced several minutes apart. I started to wonder if I was somehow overloading my nervous system and doing some sort of permanent damage. But I couldn’t turn it off.

I also wondered if I was going out of my mind.

At the same time, I knew I was living a dream come true. I just hadn’t realized it would be this intense.

My sense of time was completely shot, as all my attention was turned to the sensations coming from my cock and ass; from my hand straining to close the tiny gap and add that tiny bit of pressure or friction that would take me over the edge to sweet relief.

But my attention was shattered when the lights came on, and from the corridor came the sounds of the team returning from practice. A jolt of adrenaline set my heart racing again, but even at it did, I was caught unprepared by the sudden unfreezing of my prison. I thumped my face into Carl’s gear and my feet nearly went out from under me. The layer of smartmatter on my head and hands flowed quickly back under my shirt.

I realized that somehow Toben was giving me a reprieve from the prospect of total humiliation, and I didn’t waste any time taking advantage of it. I stood up and did a quick scan to make sure my clothes were hiding my extra layer and tried to soak up the sweat on my face with my sleeve, then I tried to look as nonchalant as possible as I walked away from the lockers towards the equipment room. Not that it would have been all that weird for me to be in the locker area, but I felt like I was fleeing the scene of a crime. The timing worked out that when the first of the team came around the corner from the corridor, I was in the open area by the equipment room. I was safe, though I must have looked strange to the guys passing by when Toben rounded the corner and gave me an evil grin. I ducked into the equipment room and closed the door. Then I grabbed a towel and dried off my head. My hair was matted with moisture, and my eyes were stinging from sweat that had dripped into them.

I couldn’t stay locked up in the equipment room after a practice. I had to roll up the door over the pass-thru counter and be available to fix any gear that was broken and man the towel exchange. As I did, I was taking stock of what my body was telling me. The smartmatter up my ass had shrunk down and the pulsing had stopped. My ass was sore. I had my full range of motion, except my junk was still kept away from my hands by a rigid shield. Apparently I had lost my boner again when I heard the team returning, and the smartmatter had reconfigured while I wasn’t paying attention, because now my cock and balls were perfectly confined in a much smaller chamber. I was also extremely thirsty. Fortunately I had a ready supply of the electrolyte drinks we provided to the teams, so I started swilling on those.

I felt like a survivor. No apparent nerve damage, no sense that I had permanently lost my marbles. But I had a sense of dread. I was still at Toben’s mercy, and he could do that to me again whenever he wanted to. Could I take another round of it? What if he let it go on longer next time? Even in my dread, my cock tried to rise up in anticipation.

Toben

That wasn’t as fun as I thought it would be, because I didn’t get to see him suffer. He sure looked rattled when we came back from practice, though. By my book, I still owed him more payback. The fucker had had me on edge for days.

But I didn’t feel like spending days fucking around with him, so he was getting the accelerated advanced placement course. With the main placement up his ass.

As I hung out in the locker room, wearing nothing but my jock, I dug my phone out of my locker. Yeah, yeah, I was wearing my jock all the time. And so was half the team. Because of that stupid ‘lucky jock’ gag, now I had to wear it until after the big game – at least at school, where the guys could see me. And to be honest, it kinda felt normal now. Every so often I half hoped something in there would grab my cock and give it a rub. Just thinking about it gave me some wood.

Anyway, I grabbed my phone and reminded Aaron who’s boss. So far his ass toy had been just a strand of smartmatter with a knob positioned at his prostate. I now changed that. Some of the surplus smartmatter in his shell flowed in and beefed things up, until he had a full-size ‘smartcock’ filling him up. It was not just the size of a cock, it was shaped exactly like one. Like mine, in fact. For now, I just let it sit there.

He still had almost an hour of work to do before he could hide from the team and the coaches. I set a patch of shell surrounding the head of his dick to vibrate more or less, depending on the volume of noise around him. As long as the team was shouting and laughing like they usually do, he was going to enjoy their company.

I did my usual thing, hanging out with the guys, joining in when they gave Trey shit for a play he fucked up. I made sure to wander by the equipment room and drum on the counter a bit. Aaron flinched like he was getting shot. Nice. But also I was checking to make sure he was able to keep working. He was walking kind of funny, so I said, loudly, “You walk funny. Like you got a stick up your ass.”

His hands clenched on the helmet he was working on, but he still sassed me back, “Get your own stick Toben, one that’s big enough for your gaping hole.”

Some of the guys went, “Ooooooh!” so I couldn’t back down.

Crap.

Quietly, I said, “Hey Aaron, you remember that time we had you taped to that pole?”

His shoulders hunched and he looked warily past me at the guys who happened to be paying attention. I could tell he was figuring out if they were about to rush him. I felt like shit. I turned away, saying, “Let me know when you want another go at that,” hoping it would satisfy the guys and keep them from escalating. The last thing I wanted was for my jock friends to spoil our little game. It was bad enough that Aaron was now afraid I was about to let him get ganged up on again. We had something else going on now, something I didn’t want to share with the team.

I went back to my locker and grabbed my phone again. I gave him a break from the cock up his ass and the vibrations on his dick. Then I hit the shower, dried off, got dressed. Aaron didn’t know it, but we were just waiting for the big event.

Aaron

What the hell was that? I discovered that when something just expands in your ass, you get a lot less sense of it shape and texture than if it slides in the normal way. Whatever it was, it was big, and it HURT. At least at first. It had forced my asshole open with no warning and was completely irresistible. I had doubled over, hanging onto the counter, trying to force myself to relax.

Danny was standing next to me. “Whoa!” he said, “Are you going to hurl?”

Making myself breath, I said, “Nah, I’m used to the way you guys smell.” I stood up straight. It definitely filled my ass, and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to finish the shift with the team coming in and out of the equipment room, and act like nothing was going on. I looked at the clock. This was going to be a long 40 minutes! Just as I was about done manning up, I got this buzzing sensation on the head of my dick. It seemed like it could be pretty stimulating, if it would just settle down at a nice constant speed. Instead, it varied a lot, both in speed and in intensity. Sometimes it got uncomfortably intense.

The whole situation became pretty intolerable. I really wanted to get the hell out of there, find a quiet place to get away from this sensory assault. Even the noise of the guys shouting and laughing and slamming their locker doors grated on my nerves. Then it sank in that the aural assault and the unwelcome stimulation of my dick were connected.

Just as I figured this out, someone started drumming loudly on the pass-through counter. Argh! That hurt! Of course it was Toben. I tried to act normal, but after what he had just put me through in the previous hour, and knowing that he was at that moment filling my ass, I felt… awkward? It was like we were having a secret affair, and I had to pretend everything was normal.

Huh. Is that what we were doing?

My confused reverie was cut short when Toben broke out the old ‘stick up the ass’ put-down. Why does every single guy describe someone walking funny as ‘like he has a stick up his ass’? Of course, I kinda did, and he knew it.

Just a few seconds of dialog later, and I was shitting myself. No, that’s not right. Better to say my sphincter was trying to clench around the thing invading my ass. I was cornered in a cage with a clan of hyenas, and some of them had suddenly noticed I was there. The fact that Toben and his friends could do me serious harm drowned out all other thoughts. When he abruptly left and the guys went back to what they’d been doing, I wanted to barricade myself in the equipment room and hide under the counter until they all left.

Man, I was running ragged. This was too much to handle. I tried to keep in mind that I had brought this on myself, but I had had no idea that Toben’s payback would be so total and effective; and I had not realized how it would affect me psychologically. One thing that really freaked me out is that I had no idea how long this would go on. I felt a pang of guilt then, because I had put Toben through the same dilemma. The fact was, Toben could keep me captive for the rest of the year.

Oddly enough, that thought made my dick throb in its tiny space. It wasn’t just the captivity; it was Toben. I had to admit my feelings for him were getting more serious.

My reverie was interrupted when the ‘stick up my ass’ shrank away, and the vibrations on my dick stopped as well. I felt a pang of hope. Maybe I could get through the rest of the hour after all.

The rush of guys wanting things from me tapered off, and I ventured out of the equipment room. Most of the team was gone. Toben was showering with a few team-mates. That seemed like a bad sign. It meant he wasn’t planning to stick around after everyone else left, and if he wasn’t going to pay attention to Devlin’s damp, smelly gear, then he was probably going to be paying attention to me.

I thought about not being around by the time he got dressed, but it didn’t seem like it would change my fate. He could fuck with me remotely. Based on what I had done to him, I could easily imagine a way for him to torment me based on distance until I came to him like a whipped cur (and you know how those whipped curs do).

So once I’d finished putting stuff away and un-propping various doors, I sat down in the equipment room and rested. I saw the edge of my black prison peeking out from the cuff of my long-sleeve shirt. I tried to tug on it, but I couldn’t really get a finger between it and my skin. When it was in this state, it was hard to describe how it felt. It was like the perfect spandex garment, in that it actually fit to every contour of my body with no wrinkles at all. But since it stayed in contact with my skin literally everywhere, it never produced any elastic tug, no matter how I moved. It wasn’t tight, like a latex catsuit might be, and it certainly breathed, completely unlike latex. In fact I could smell how worked up I was. Even though it breathed, it was definitely there, a layer between me and the world. What seemed more freakish was what it could do. It was no thicker than spandex, but as I had experienced, it could become rigid, either all over or in sections that Toben chose, and it was so strong that I couldn’t flex it at all. It could change shape and move about some, extruding a base to keep me from tipping over when I was immobilized, or invading my ass and stimulating, uh, sensitive areas. Oh, and I couldn’t remove it. I was a prisoner in a garment.

I considered again what had possessed me to reveal myself after pulling my prank on Toben. Why had I wanted his retaliation? I couldn’t have known he would come up with something like this. This was a toy so hot that I was trying to figure out how to keep it after he tired of his revenge. But I had decided that I wanted his retaliation, somehow intuiting that it would be the kind I desired. That seemed awfully risky in retrospect. Essentially I had thrown myself into the clutches of the guy I had just tormented. At the same time, I was feeling some satisfaction. Toben was definitely back in my life again. Apparently that mattered to me in ways that I hadn’t realized before.

Aside from the terror of getting found out, my experience at Carl’s locker just an hour before was the kind of thing I guess I had fantasized about when inviting Toben’s wrath, though the effectiveness and intensity of it was far beyond anything I had ever imagined possible.

But now I was exhausted and rattled by the potential for violence underlying our last exchange. The possibility was real that he was plotting right then to string me up to the goal post again and let the team loose on my ass. This time, I knew I should be on alert for it, but this time, I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. I had put myself entirely under his control.

Despite my fears, I still somehow wanted him to have that control; and I wanted him to, I don’t know, prove he deserved it? I also fantasized about having him under my control again, and him wanting it. And at this point, I didn’t fantasize about this sort of exchange of control with anybody but him.

Hmm.

It was around that point in my reverie that I discovered that I couldn’t get up from the chair.

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Metal would like to thank GratDelay for writing Lucky Cup!