Kevin hated Jonas. Most kids who are bullied hate their aggressor, but Jonas was a special type of bully. Kevin had expected as college juniors they’d grow out of the adolescent bullshit, but Jonas had not done so whatsoever. He knew that Kevin was queer, president of the school’s Diversity Club, and very militant around his beliefs; which gave Jonas plenty of material to work with. After coming back from wrestling practice, he’d tease Kevin with his sizable bulge and impressive muscles knowing full well that he was the type of man that Kevin lusted for. It was impossible not to look when they were in the midst of their spats- truly a public spectacle for all to see.
So to all onlookers, it was shocking that Kevin was in the stands at the wrestling meet. To Kevin, money spoke louder than anything, and a crisp $100 bill spoke volumes. After all, he could use a nice injection of funds for his rent. All he had to do was meet up with Jonas after the meet, pick up his key, and watch his dingy apartment for the night while he went out with his dopey friends. Deep down, he felt odd about the entire ordeal and smelt a stunt. But, the Diversity Club was going to check in with him throughout the night and make sure things were okay, so to him, Jonas’ money was as good as his.
Jonas strutted out to the mat, took his position in his tight white singlet and immediately destroyed his competition. There was a reason he had a full ride scholarship to Sunnmore University, he was their ticket to Nationals. Kevin couldn’t deny it was impressive how he effortlessly defeated each and every opponent within moments. Always finishing his round with a crowd-roaring applause, he knew he was the best.
The meet ended much as it always does: Sunnmore wiped the floor with Unger College’s boys, as if it was a practice round. Jonas walked out of the locker room, and Kevin was ready to take the keys to the apartment. The exchange was stilted and felt off. Jonas didn’t try to irritate him in any way, and instead simply took the key off his lanyard, handed it to Kevin wrapped in the $100 bill, and with a smirk, walked away.
Kevin walked to his dorm, tossing his bag full of Calculus books onto the bed and tried to do his homework. Hours passed, and before Kevin knew it, it was almost midnight. Time flew by too quickly, and he’d forgotten all about his duties that evening. He bolted from the dormitory all the way to the subpar student housing apartments on the south side of campus. He walked to the shitty house, put his key in the lock… nothing. He tried again, twisting the key in any direction- it didn’t budge. He messaged Jonas, the reply was bizarre.
“Dude you gotta disarm the security system. Type ‘bitch’ into the keypad and go in. Fuck.” What an asshole. He must’ve changed the password just to fuck with him. Reluctantly, he typed the word into the keypad, and was met with an immediate ‘ding.’ From the sides of the system, a big puff of mist flew at him. It was odorless and had no crazy sensation, but the moment it hit his face, he felt his body go limp. He was being drugged? He tried to pull his phone from his pocket, but his body disobeyed. Nothing. He stood there like a statue, unable to move. A strange voice emanated from the speaker.
“Unknown user. Enter.” Kevin opened the door against his wishes, and stepped into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. It looked as he expected: clothes littering the floor, stinking of stale beer and man stink. “Remove unauthorized dressings.” He began to strip, tossing his pristine pressed collared shirt and khakis to the side, his white briefs, socks, and shoes being discarded like trash. Standing in this dump in the nude, he did his best to resist. His mind was still intact, and he was mortified at his inability to break whatever hold on him this drug had. “Disinfectant bathing initiated. Proceed to the bathroom.”
Kevin walked to the dingy bathroom, clearly never once cleaned. Used condoms were strewn about, vitamins and supplements lined the shelves of his open medicine cabinet. The shower was already running, but it clearly was not water jettisoning out of the showerhead. The smell was all too familiar. It was unmistakably sweat- Jonas’ sweat. He couldn’t cry, he couldn’t scream for help. His body moved forward, stepping under the lukewarm streams of sweat pouring from the shower. The sensation was a mix between water and a slick lube sliding down his body. “Open your mouth.” The voice commanded, and he obeyed. The taste of Jonas’ rank sweat was salty, yet oddly satisfying. It slid down the throat, coating his entire esophagus with the substance; Kevin drank it down like it was nothing.
He felt his muscles pulsate and spasm. Though he was unable to watch, he felt his body shift and grow. Biceps and triceps ballooned out of his arms, abs popped like bubbles beneath his skin. His feet buckled and stretched, his calves and quads burned from the intense exertion of energy, his face warped like clay in the hands of a sculptor. It was painless, but he felt every ounce of the changes rippling across him. “Disinfection complete. Please proceed to the wardrobe.”
Kevin walked out of the shower, bypassing the used towels and fogged mirror. Entering the bedroom, he walked with an odd swagger, likely caused by the new massive endowment swinging between his legs. The dresser was half open, and though he wanted more than anything to put on clean clothes, he was instead blindsided by the system. “Engage appropriate dressings.” He bent down to the floor, grabbing the closest jockstrap within his reach. It was white at one point, but now had a permanent yellowish-brown stain where Jonas’ musky balls and cum-dripping cock had been nestled throughout many practices and meets. He felt his body slide the strap up his meaty legs, and cup his own package in the well-used pouch. It felt damp. The remaining sweat having either seeped into his open pores, but what remained on his skin from the “disinfection” added to Jonas’ already ample deposit. His hands groped the pouch, making him gasp with a newfound deep voice. He felt himself grab two nasty old socks, slipping them on his feet. The smell was unbearable. Stink was one thing- this was pure testosterone and salty deliciousness. Wait, deliciousness?
A backwards cap eventually graced his head, along with an old lycra compression shirt permanently stained at the pits. His was groping and pumping, enjoying every ounce of his new scent and musculature. Shoving his nose into his ripe pits secured this sensation of pride and arousal. Each inhale clouded his screaming psyche. He heard the slamming of a door, and in walked Jonas, grinning from ear to ear.
“Yeah, that’s better. How’s my bitch?” Kevin couldn’t resist. He was broken, he was his.
“Ready for my ass to be pounded, sir.” Jonas obliged, tossing his shorts to the side, and placing his cock at the rosebud of Kevin’s eager hole. Lubed with his already present sweat and pre, Jonas thrust in. The sharp pain of insertion shocked Kevin, throwing him into a whirlwind of pleasure as Jonas slid in and out of him. He couldn’t deny he’d dreamed of this, but he never could have imagined how it’d come to pass.
“Yeah, Kev. You’re my fuckin’ bitch. You always will be.” The two fucked hard, moaning and growling at every push and pull. By the time Jonas unloaded his load into Kev, there was no going back. He was a passenger. He would enjoy every day being fucked mercilessly by Jonas, killing the competition on the mat, and barely passing his classes. In time he’d learn to love it, but in that moment, he had no mouth, and wanted to scream.
Comments
Post a Comment