Spring Break Nightmare

Spring Break Nightmare

by The Mangler

The barbell rose slowly to its full height. The muscular arms trembled with the heavy weights. The big 19" biceps bulged as the weights were slowly lowered until coming into contact with the sweating, hairy, shirtless chest. Even more slowly the bar began the final ascent, pausing briefly halfway as the arms and the weights battled for supremacy before the arms won out. The bar was returned to the rack accompanied by a loud grunt and the sweating figure jumped to his full 6'2" height. He turned to check himself in the full-length wall mirror and pumped his right bicep to its full mass. "Look at it and weep, wimps," he called out loud although the room was empty. Just a minor detail of absolutely no importance to Jerry.

He imagined how he would be seen through the video lens of some babe's camera. The video would begin at the feet, noting the new white Reeboks with the short athletic socks running partially up the ankle. As the camera slowly panned up the body it would encounter the shapely hair-covered muscular calves, the muscular defined thighs (product of much jogging and weight work), the sweat-stained grey shorts with the well packed crotch, the jockstrap clearly visible through the clinging material. The camera would linger at this truly awesome site before continuing its upward adventure. It would encompass the narrow 31" waist; the awesome abdomen, each ripped muscle perfectly delineated; and then it would arrive at the chest. The 42" muscle packed wonder that was the envy of every male around. Each pec full, round, covered with curly black hair; the quarter sized areolar with peaked nipple in the middle; a deep valley running between; the powerful biceps caught at the edge of the screen. Slowly the camera would move even higher to show the powerful neck and then caress the handsome face framed by the shoulder length brown hair. In simple terms, 200 lbs. of perfect masculinity.

"Daydreaming there, jackoff," came a voice from behind.

Forcing himself to break his concentration, Jerry shifted his gaze to see the reflection of one of his frat brothers. "Dave, don't you know enough to show more respect when you’re in the presence of greatness."

"Of course, and when I'm in that presence I'll show it," Dave replied as he punched Jerry in the arm.

His contemplation broken by the interruption; Jerry turned to finish his workout. "You’re such a loser dumbfuck. At least I'm working out for a good reason. In 24 hours, I'll be on the beach in Ft. Lauderdale driving all the ladies wild with lust and desire and the guys green with envy, while you and the rest of the dweebs are taking finals."

"Jerry, the only people who are going to be envious are those on the beach who wish they were here so that they don't have to put up with your bullshit."

The rest of the workout was done in silence. There was no love lost between Jerry and the rest of the fraternity. Of course, there was a small hard-core group of 10 guys with whom Jerry hung out and who gave the frat a bad name.



Jerry smiled as the warm sun shone down on his nearly naked body. He was wearing a yellow bikini, which would highlight his dark tan once it was established, and which already highlighted his prominent cock and balls well, and a pair of sandals. He had decided to walk to the beach instead of taking the hotel shuttle to give the lesser individuals a chance to observe his superb body. In his right hand he carried his beach bag which contained his towel, tanning lotions, sunglasses, and a couple of beers. He sauntered across the street against the red light causing several cars to squeal to a stop and honk at him. He knew that they were just jealous over his great body and good looks. On arriving at the beach, he walked across the warm white sand and found the spot he wanted. Unfortunately, the spot was already occupied according to the towels and other beach paraphernalia there. Jerry never let such things bother him, however. He simply wadded the stuff into a bundle, tossed it off to the side, and set up his beach towel and cooler. He had just gotten settled when the former occupants appeared, each carrying a beer in their hands. They were two youths about 19. Both stood about 5'10" tall with one weighing 150, the other 160. Neither one was overtly muscular but both were in good shape. The larger one (George) was wearing a pair of beach jams that came to his knees, and that were very tight. They showed off his crotch which appeared almost as big as Jerry's. He sported a tattoo on his left bicep that read "Born to Raise Hell" and had long black hair that extended down onto his shoulders. His friend (Bill) was wearing a pair of bathing trunks that extended about half way down the thighs and that were loose, not really showing anything. He had short brown hair cut in a modified Mohawk, in that the sides were crew cut and not shaved. He also sported a tattoo on the left shoulder that read simply, "Property of" with nothing underneath. They both looked like motorcycle punks but Jerry was not intimidated in the least.

"Hey, buttwipe. You're in our spot. Move on," growled Bill.

Looking up with feigned disinterest, Jerry replied "you two little shitheads talking to me. I don't see how I could possibly be in your spot since I'm here. If it was your sport, you would be here."

"Look dickhead, we went for refreshments and now were back."

"Too fucking bad punkheads. No one was here; I liked the spot so I took it. You think you're going to do anything about It."

"Yeah, I do," replied Bill, the smaller of the two. "I think I'm going to beat your butt and take back our spot."

"Oooh, big talk for such a little dick."

The young punk moved toward Jerry, but his partner got in the way. "Look this ain't a good idea."

"Better listen to your friend there. I mean I'd hate to wipe your worthless punk butt in front of all these people."

"I didn't stop him for that reason. I think he could beat the shit out of you. But you see, the police around here don't take too kindly to trouble and fighting. However, if you are serious, there is a gym just across the street that has a wrestling ring in it. You and Bill could go at it there without any problems. That is if you've got the balls."

Jerry stood up and looked both guys up and down. "Oh, I've got the balls alright," he said as he grabbed his crotch "so why don't we just meet there later and I'll teach you a lesson."

"What's wrong with now? Unless of course you really are afraid that I'll beat your ass," Bill replied.

"You're on, let's go," Jerry replied.

Bill winked at George and then turned and led the way across the busy street with Jerry close behind. They walked about a block off the beach and into an older building without any identifying signs. The building was well maintained and was obviously used as a gym. There were some weights and punching bags around, but most of the space was taken up by a regulation wrestling ring. The room was empty except for one person who appeared to be cleaning up. George walked over and began talking to him while Bill and Jerry remained by the ring.

"So, butthead, just me and you in the ring. We can get the guy who runs the place to referee. One fall to submission," Bill challenged.

"You're on."

George turned and pointed towards Jerry and Bill. The guy he was talking to, nodded, grinned and then turned and left the gym. "Okay, boys the gym's all yours now. Bill don't hurt him until I get back with the ref."

"No chance of that ever happening pussy," was Jerry's reply.

While George went to find the manager to act as referee, Jerry climbed into the ring and began loosening up. Bill walked over to the side of the gym away from the door. While Jerry wasn't looking, he picked up several objects and slipped them into his trunks, among them a packet of salt, a 6”-inch chain, and a small piece of rope. All of these fit nicely into little pockets sewn into inconspicuous places in the trunks, indicating that this wasn't the first time Bill had done this. He too then entered the ring and began loosening up.

Shortly, George returned to the area followed by an older dude. The guy looked to be about 35 and was extremely well built. He had short close-cropped hair, was wearing a tight white T-shirt and a pair of old cut off Levis. He looked as though he would have no trouble maintaining order in the roughest bar. He entered the ring and motioned both guys to the center.

"Okay, the way I understand it, you too want to have a little wrestling match."

"You got it Tim," Bill replied.

"Yeah, I want to teach this little shithead here a lesson," growled Jerry.

"Okay, fine with me. Now just what sort of rules are we having here."

Jerry was the first to reply, "Well you need to make sure dipshit's friend stays out of it. Otherwise, whatever rules he wants."

"Oh, don't worry about George over there. He ain't going to have to move one little bit while I beat you up. And as for the rules; one fall to submission which must be spoken 'I submit sir'. We'll use pro rules, assuming you know what those are and how to wrestle."

"I've done this once or twice before and I can't wait to hear 'I submit sir' coming out of your punk mouth. Oh, and to make it really interesting let's say the winner gets to do whatever he wants to the loser for an hour." After defeating this little punk, Jerry thought a little beach humiliation was in order. He hadn't been the most feared pledge master for nothing.

"It's your defeat buddy, whatever you want."

"Yeah, just save it for the match," Tim interrupted. "Now here are my rules. If I tell you to do something you do it by the count of five or you lose the match. I don't want to hear any shit from either of you, just follow the rules. And don't worry about George over there, he isn't going to cause any problems. Now go to your corner and behave until the match begins."

Tim followed Jerry over to his corner to check for foreign objects. Of course, with his skin tight bikini it was obvious that there wasn't anything there except for what nature had provided. He then walked over to check out Bill. As his hands wandered over the trunks, he failed to encounter the objects hidden there. "Both of you are all clean, the match may begin."

Both wrestlers came out of their corners and met in the center of the ring. They immediately began pushing and shoving trying to get the feel of each other. Jerry was somewhat surprised by the strength of this punk but still had no doubts that he could take him. Eventually they locked up into a referee's hold and spent several minutes at a stalemate. Finally, summing his strength, Bill managed to push Jerry off and back into the rope.

"Well, well. The little punk does have some testosterone floating around in that weenie body after all," Jerry teased. "Too bad it ain't enough."

"Oh, it will be plenty for the worthless pile of shit I'm facing," Bill replied as he lifted his hands up challenging Jerry to a test of strength.

"You're on little boy. Be more than glad to show you early what's in store for you," Jerry replied as he reached up and joined hands.

By using his height and weight to advantage Jerry slowly began to force Bill to his knees. Finally, both knees hit the mat and with a triumphant yell, Jerry began to apply the pressure. Bill was in some pain, but nothing that he couldn't handle. His face was pressed into his opponent’s lower abdomen. He watched not only his opponent but also kept an eye on Tim. As the ref walked behind Jerry to get to the clear side of the ring, Bill drew back and head-butted Jerry in the balls.

With a loud rush of air and an "ummph" Jerry broke the hold and dropped his hands toward his crotch. Bill immediately jumped to his feet, grabbed Jerry in a headlock and hip-tossed him to the mat following him down and maintaining the headlock.

"Hey ref, make him break. The shit hit me in the nuts."

As Tim started to question Bill he replied, "No way ref. It was a legal butt into the stomach. The big shithead just couldn't handle it." Bill began to grind the head lock back and forth. Slowly Jerry was able to regain his feet. In the standing position Bill was able to get a little more pressure behind the hold and began grinding hard against his sweaty chest.

"I bet you love it down there, don't you? Smelling that real man sweat."

Jerry only replied by attempting to toss Bill across the ring. As he did so, he turned them both away from the ref. seizing his chance, Bill countered by grabbing a fistful of the brown hair.

"Shit, that hurt. Hey ref, come on, he grabbed the hair, do your damned job."

"Hey Bill did you grab hair?", Tim inquired.

"Hell no. I didn't need to do that to handle this little pussy. Believe me, when I do something illegal, it's going to be something worthwhile," he replied with a lopsided grin. As he spoke, Bill again hip-tossed his opponent to the mat, but this time he released the hold as he threw his opponent to the mat. When Jerry hit the mat, he lay sprawled out for a moment and Bill took the opportunity to deliver a stomp to the tight corded abdominal muscles. He could tell by Jerry's reaction that the stomp had not really hurt all that much, but he could also tell that Jerry had not been subjected to a lot of abdominal work and knew that he could eventually get into the muscles. He smiled as his final plans for defeating this well-muscled hunk began to settle into his mind.

He backed off allowing Jerry to get to his feet. The two met in the middle of the ring and appeared to be heading for another referee's hold. However, at the last moment, Jerry ducked down and swept Bill off his feet with a single leg sweep. As Bill hit the mat, Jerry quickly grabbed his right leg, held it high in the air and performed a leg snap by forcing the leg high over his downed opponents head. As Bill grabbed for his right hip and thing, Jerry again picked up the right leg and delivered a series of stomps to the upper thing. He then dropped the outstretched leg on the mat and proceeded to place a series of three knee drops into the same area. Bill was moaning in pain. Jerry stood, placed his right foot on his opponents left ankle, and jerked the right leg as far as possible in the other direction. He was rewarded by a scream of pain. "Come on everybody, make a wish. The turkey is about to be split," Jerry laughed.

Bill was moaning in real pain now as he felt as if his crotch were being ripped apart. There had never been any doubt in his mind that Jerry was a powerful guy, and he was now learning just how true that was. After several minutes, Jerry removed his right foot and kicked high into the thigh, with his foot glancing off Bill's balls.

He lifted the hurting young punk from the mat by his hair. He ran his right arm through his opponent’s legs, flexed his bicep into the balls, lifted Bill in the air and delivered a powerful body slam to the mat. As Bill hit the mat, he bridged up and was rewarded with a powerful stomp into the abdominals. He collapses back to the mat.

"Well punk, I thought you were going to beat my ass. Looks like the only thing you're going to do it hurt," Jerry taunted.

He delivered a series of four stomps to the abdomen, followed by an elbow drop. Laughing, he again lifted the punk from the mat and delivered a stomach busting knee drop. Bill was in a great deal of trouble and knew it. Jerry stopped and just watched as Bill rolled around the mat in agony.

Trying to think of a novel way to humiliate the punk, Jerry noticed that George had climbed onto the ring apron. "Come on Bill, get up. You can handle it," he shouted.

"Hey ref. Why don't you get buttwipe there off the ring? I don't want him interfering," Jerry shouted at Tim.

Tim turned and finally noticed that George was indeed on the ring apron. As he walked over toward the apron he shouted, "George, get the hell back to your seat. I told you that I wouldn't put up with any of your shit. Now move."

Once his back was turned, Jerry moved quickly over to his fallen foe, dropped down and grabbed him by the nuts. He put his other hand over Bill's mouth to keep him from crying out and alerting the referee.

"Looks like I have the upper hand here buddy. I'm going to teach you respect for your betters," taunted Jerry.

George attempted to alert the referee to the foul. "Hey Tim, look he got him by....".

"I don't give a fuck. You get off the ring and back to your seat now," demanded Tim.

Realizing that he was only causing problems for Bill, George reluctantly returned to his seat. As Tim turned back to the action, Jerry released both hands, and quickly transferred the hold into an abdominal claw.

"Shit, Tim. The bastard busted me in the nuts, break the hold," George begged as the ref got back across the ring.

"Hey, I warned you Jerry. No illegal holds and that includes the nuts."

"What are you talking about? I've got him in a claw hold as you can well see. The little bastard just can't handle it. There is nothing illegal going on here."

Tim realized that Jerry was correct, nothing illegal was going on now. "Just keep it that way then."

Jerry released the claw, lifted Bill to his feet and threw him into the opposite ropes. As Bill flew off the ropes back into the center of the ring, Jerry was there to meet him with a fist to the gut. As Bill doubled over, he received a rabbit punch to the back of the head forcing him to the mat.

George jumped on the ring apron and shouted, "Hey ref, watch those illegal moves."

Jerry turned and walked toward George shouting, "What illegal moves you talking about boy. That was just could old fashion rasslin."

Tim stepped between the two individuals and turned toward George. "Get down off the ring and stay in your seat, I told you that I will not have you interfering in this match in any way."

While this conversation was going on, Bill had risen to his knees, reached into his trunks and pulled out the small chain he had there. He wrapped the chain around his right fist, dropped the fist to his side, and waited. While Tim was berating George, Jerry turned and walked toward his kneeling victim. When he was within range, Bill struck driving his chain covered right fist upward between Jerry's muscular legs driving into the totally unprotected balls. As his fist met the tightly packed balls, they were crushed between the chain and Jerry's pubic bone. The pain within his crotch exploded like a bomb, moving upward into the pit of his stomach and chest, forcing the air from his lungs. He sank to his knees on the mat making virtually no sound. The look on his face was one of total shock, pure pain and disbelief. Bill delivered a second fist into the corded abdomen, before removing the chain and replacing it in his trunks.

Tim, having removed George from the ring apron, turned back toward the action. As he turned, he saw Jerry on his knees with Bill pulling him to his feet by a handful of hair. After getting Jerry to his knee, Bill grabbed him by his right arm and threw him into the far ropes. As his opponent bounced off the ropes and into the middle of the ring, Bill extended his knee into the onrushing abdomen, causing Jerry to somersault to the mat. This was followed up by a double knee drop deep into the midsection.

Jerry was in unbelievable shape. His balls were afire, his stomach muscles hurting, his lungs empty and he could not alert the ref to his opponent’s vicious foul. Bill repeated the double knee drop into the abdomen and then put Jerry in a body scissors. Bill was facing Jerry's feet with his knee dug deep into the mid abdomen. As he began to squeeze, the sweat popped out on Jerry's forehead. He gasped repeatedly for breath and began to bridge up.

At his head Tim was inquiring "Do you want to give up?"

Unable to answer, Jerry continued his bridge in an attempt to break the hold, which Bill broke by pounding his fist into the well outlined bulge in the bikini. This drove Jerry back to the mat. The pain radiated from his groin and his stomach muscles. Unused to no holds barred fighting, he knew he was in over his head and was ready to submit. However, he was unable to get his breath to do so and, besides, Bill had other plans.

Driving his knee into Jerry's gut one final time, Bill released the scissors and jumped to his feet. He reached down and pulled Jerry to his feet and secured him in a head lock. Turning away from the ref, Jerry drove a karate thrust into Jerry's throat but did not release the hold. He repeated the maneuver again but this time allowed Jerry to fall to the mat, his hands gripping his throat.

"Watch the throat work Bill," Tim cautioned.

"What are you talking about ref. I ain't done anything."

"The man is clutching his throat and that says to me...."

"Hey, you know better than that," Bill interrupted. "If you didn't see it, it didn't happen." He side stepped Tim, lifted Jerry from the mat and tossed him into the opposite ropes. This time he charged in after him and as Jerry rebounded off the ropes, Bill twisted around delivering a savage kick into the throat. The force of the kick was so great it drove Jerry through the ropes and onto the concrete floor outside the ring. Jerry landed back first on the unprotected floor.

Bill began to follow but before he could get to the ropes, Tim grabbed him and spun him around. "Well I saw that and I won't tolerate It."

"Look it was an accident. I meant to hit him in the chest and was just a little off," was Bill's weak reply. As he was talking, he maneuvered Tim so that he could not see Jerry on the floor.

"Oh bullshit. I know you better than that. It was a deliberate move and I won't tolerate that in matches that I am refereeing. One more move like that and you are going to lose this match," was Tim shouted response.

"Give me a fucking break, asshole. You don't have the balls to disqualify me or anyone else for an accident. You're a better referee than that and you know it. Unless you are positive it was deliberate you ain't going to do shit and I told you it was a stupid mistake. Would I be standing here arguing with you if it weren't? Hell no, I'd be out there finishing the job. Instead I'm here jawing with you giving him some time to recover."

"Oh, forgive my insensitivity Mr. By-the-Book," was Tim's sarcastic reply. "You just make sure the rest of it is by the book or else."

While Bill kept Tim occupied, George went over to the fallen stud almost as soon as he had hit the floor. Picking up both legs and spreading them into a wide v, he had delivered two quick stomps to Jerry's helpless crotch, the first concentrating on the two bull balls, the second on the cock. Because of the throat work, Jerry was unable to murmur much more than a soft groan. When George released the legs, Jerry rolled onto his stomach in an effort to protect himself. George walked to the side and delivered a series of three stomps and two kneedrops into the lower back. As he saw Tim starting to turn, he quickly resumed his seat, so that when Tim finally came over to check on the fallen stud, it looked as though nothing had happened.

Without any choice, Tim began the count out. "1, 2 ,3.. Hey what are you doing, get the hell back in here." The last yelled as Bill climbed out of the ring.

"I'm going to help this worthless piece of shit back into the ring," was Bill's reply as he lifted Jerry to his feet and then lifted him to a horizontal position belly to belly. He then proceeded to charge into the nearest ring post, not once but twice, smashing Jerry's lower back into the post before depositing him on the ring apron. Jerry had not made a sound.

"You son of a bitch, I told you no more of that stuff," Tim screamed as Bill got back into the ring. Tim had gotten right into Bill's face.

"Oh, but you didn't count, and until you count to five it doesn't really count now does it?" was Bill's calm reply. He then once again walked around the ref, drug Jerry to the middle of the ring, turned him onto his stomach and applied a Boston crab. After a couple of seconds of adjustments, he had the ankles locked under his armpits and settled his body low into his opponents back. Tim was at Jerry's head asking for a submission; Jerry was unable to mouth the words although by this point he desperately wanted to. Bill took his free hands, and the opportunity, and placed them over the exposed crotch and began squeezing with all his might.

Jerry felt as if a bomb had gone off in his body. His abdomen hurt, his back was on fire, but mostly the intense pain was in his much-abused nuts. Finally tiring of the hold, Bill released it, stood and pulled Jerry into a side headlock. Once again, he delivered a karate thrust into the throat, letting Jerry fall to the mat. The time had come for the finale.

He began with a series of stomps to his helpless opponent’s abdomen, followed by a couple of knee drops and then a stomach claw.

"Okay Jerry, you want to submit?" Tim asked.

Jerry nodded yes.

"Come on man, you know the rules. It's got to be a spoken request."

Tim new Jerry was unable to speak but could do nothing otherwise.

Bill tired of this little game and stood, lifted Jerry up and dropped his stomach first across his knee. This was repeated twice more than then Bill began a series of backdrops onto his knee. Finally, Bill picked Jerry up and charging across the ring, rammed his opponent's back into the turnbuckle. Sensing that his opponent was nearing his limits, Bill went for his final hold, a Leopard stretch. This consisted of Bill standing with his front to Jerry's back, placing Jerry's right arm under Bill's left arm which went around his opponent’s head. He then lifted himself onto Jerry's back while grapevining his right leg around Jerry's right leg with his right hand he reached across the body for Jerry's left arm. When settled in, he began pulling in all the appropriate directions.

"Come on ref, ask him if he submits," Bill taunted.

"Come on Jerry, give it up, " Tim pleaded. Jerry felt as if he was being pulled in forty directions at once. He didn't know which was worse, the pain in his abdomen, the pain in his back, or the pain in his crotch. All he knew was that he wanted it to end, but he was unable to get the required words out. Whenever Tim was out of sight, Bill would smash his right fist into Jerry's crotch taking Jerry's left hand with him, so that Jerry was punishing his own already abused balls.

"Look Bill, you've got him beat, just let him go," Tim requested.

"I'm sorry but I can't do that. You know the rules. If I let him go, he could just get up and beat me and I can't let that happen."

"Shit man, he ain't going to get up for a while, just let him go, okay," he begged.

Bill just laughed and tried to double the pressure. After almost five minutes Jerry was able to murmur "Okay, I give, I give."

"Okay that's the match, Bill. You win," Tim stated as he started to help undo the tangled bodies.

"Hang on asshole, not yet. That isn't what we agreed on and you know It."

"Shit Bill come on. The man is beaten."

"The punk ain't beaten until he says it properly now back off."

Reluctantly Tim ceased his efforts to untangle the two and told Jerry, "You've got to say I submit Sir."

In a hoarse almost inaudible voice Jerry mumbled, "I submit sir."

As the word sir came out of his mouth, Bill drove one final fist into the exposed and racked nuts before releasing the hold.

As he stood in the middle of the ring, Bill's hand was raised by Tim as he said "As per the rules, he is yours for the next hour. Hope the hell you survive 'em, kid," he said to Jerry as he climbed out of the ring and headed to toward his office. "Bill, George, just make sure you clean up your mess and close the door on your way out," he shouted over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hallway.

Bill motioned George into the ring and together they raised Jerry up to his knees. "Okay, mister big, tough guy. Both my friend and I get horny wrestling or watching and we both like to end our bouts by blowing our wad. You're going to give us both a blow job to help us out."

As a shocked look passed over Jerry's tortured face he cried "No way in hell you little queer faggots. I don't suck cock."

"Well we'll see about that, now want we," George smirked.

He and Bill pulled Jerry to his feet and prepared him for their infamous double bear hug. This was accomplished by George standing behind Jerry and Bill in front. Bill placed his hands around Jerry locking them low in his back, while George placed his hand around Jerry locking them in the abdomen. On the count of three both began squeezing with all their might. Jerry felt as if he was being ripped in two. It was as though the two pair of punk hands met in his middle. Jerry was much too preoccupied to notice that the guy who had been cleaning the gym earlier had returned and had set up a video camera. Once when George looked in his direction, the guy had given him the thumbs up sign.

After only a minute of the pressure and pain, Jerry sobbed out "Okay, okay I'll suck you off."

"Not good enough asshole," George sneered. "We offered you our cocks and you refused. Now if you want them, you're going to have to beg for them."

"Never," Jerry refused, but only for a short period of time. Finally, the words came, "Please may I suck your cocks, please!!" he begged.

The hold was broken and he was dropped to the mat. George grabbed him by the hair and unceremoniously pulled him back to his knees, and pushed his face into Bill's crotch. With tears streaming down his face, the broken stud reached up, pulled down Bill's trunks and began licking the fully distended cock staring him in the face. "Don't lick asshole, suck, or I'll reach down and rip your worthless nuts off," George threatened. Knowing he was defeated Jerry sucked Bill until his explosive ejaculation. The first spurt was allowed to fire into Jerry's mouth where he gagged but swallowed, the rest was squirted onto his chest, face and abs, where he was required to rub it into his body. The scene was quickly repeated with George getting the blow job.

As George exploded, Jerry was released and he fell face down on the mat. George walked over to the edge of the ring and said "Hey Scott, when was the last time you fucked anyone with that horse cock of yours?"

"Oh, must have been last night at least."

"Well, come on up. We got some fresh, prime pussy for you."

Laughing Scott jumped into the ring. Scott was very similar to the other two punks. About 5'9", 175 very muscular pounds, short black hair but numerous tattoos; one on the left bicep said "Born to Raise Hell"; one on the right bicep said "Big Love Machine". His most astonishing feature however was revealed as he removed his shorts. His crotch was shaved with a tattoo that read "Pussy Maker" on the lower abdomen above one of the biggest, thickest cocks to be seen on a man. It was raging hard at the moment and look to be 15" long (in actuality it was only 11" but the lack of hair made it look bigger) and 3 inches thick. Scott left his big engineering boots on, which gave him a very sinister look (not that he needed to look any more sinister).

Bill had turned Jerry onto his back and said "Now ask Scott over there to fuck your tight virgin little ass."

Jerry had been horror struck at the thought. "No, he'll kill me with that thing. I can't, please. I'll suck him off, I'll do anything but not that."

Scott looked a little disappointed but calmly walked over to Jerry, picked his legs up into a v and placed his big engineering boot over Jerry's equipment. "Look pussy, you can either get really nice and ask for a proper fucking or I'll fix it so that you don't do anything anymore."

As Jerry watched in horror the boot was lifted up as high as Scott could take it then paused. He saw the boot start on a downward course and knew where it would end up. "NO!! NO!!! Please fuck me, make me your pussy, please," he bellowed with what little sanity he still had. He sighed in relief as the boot was stomped to the mat and not into his nuts.

Scott reached down and removed Jerry's trunks (being careful not to damage them), threw Jerry's legs over his shoulder and began the fuck of young Jerry's life. Scott had no need to lubricate because the thought of fucking a virgin, straight ass always got him horny and leaking. He was surprisingly gentle, since he didn't want to damage this stud just yet, but it still felt to Jerry as if a truck were being driven up his ass. As Scott fucked, George began to jack Jerry off, and Bill played with his tits. Jerry ejaculated a minute before Scott let loose with a humongous load all over his body.

"Now pussy, rub that mansperm into your worthless pussy body. It is really good for it," Scott demanded.

Too tired and beaten to resist, Jerry did as he was told. He was then ordered to clean Scott's cock, which he did without hesitation. Scott brought a black leather knapsack into the ring. Jerry lay there unresisting as the guys shave a little circle of hair around each tit. They then pierced his tits and placed silver rings in them. The rings were then joined with a three-way chain, one to each tit and one down to the tight cock ring they put on him. They then redressed him in his trunks, locked a leather collar with the word slave on it around his neck, and sent him back to the beach.

"Oh god please no. The people out there, please no," Jerry begged.

"Sorry bud, that's what happens to asshole like you." Bill replied as he pushed him out the door.



* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The walk back to the beach and hotel had been a nightmare. He had gotten back to his stuff only to find that his beach towel and hotel keys were gone. He picked up the rest of his stuff and returned to his hotel. The crowds had been relentless, pointing, laughing, shouting obscenities. Thinking he was probably a pledge slave, several drunken guys had grabbed the chains and made him kneel, kiss their feet, ass, and crotch. What should have taken 5 minutes took over thirty, but he had finally reached the safety of his hotel. The desk clerk had not wanted to give him a new key but had no choice.

He finally reached the safety of his room. He unlocked the door, dropped his stuff on the bed and turned toward the living area and then froze stiff.

"Hey pussyboy, what took you so long? You been giving it to some of the other lucky spring breakers out there?" Scott replied from the couch. Sitting next to him were George and Bill. All three were drinking his beer.

"What, how..."

Laughing, Scott held up his beach towel and keys. "While you and Bill were playing, I went and had a little looksy at your stuff. But hey more important things are going on right now. You didn't even notice the TV show that's on. We call it 'pussyboy delight'."

Numbly Jerry turned toward the TV to see the videotape of his humiliation playing. Jerry turned and made a break for the door.

"Not so fast boy, you still have 6 more fun filled days left in Spring Break and we aim to see that you enjoy them all," George cackled as he tackled the frightened stud.

And indeed, the three punks made sure that Jerry did have a full week. Nights were spent at one gay club or another, usually naked, sucking cock, drinking piss, getting fucked, or getting pierced or tattooed. Days were spent at the beach being publicly humiliated in front of the other guys and gals who were only too happy to join in when the gang explained that Jerry had tried to force himself on some nimble co-ed and they had decided to punish him for themselves since the authorities wouldn't. Jerry became known as the "cock queen" as his talent for sucking became well known and in great demand, both among the gay club set and the straight beach set.

Jerry's last day there was highlighted by a complete shave from head to foot leaving not a single hair on his muscular body. When he was finally allowed to leave the beach, he took much more with him than he brought; piercings through his tits, nose, cock, ballsack; a tattoo on his left butt that read "Born to be fucked", one on his right butt that said "Born to suck cock", and an unfinished one across the top of his pecs which read "Property of " with nothing underneath which unknown to him, his frat brothers, after a long conversation with three 'concerned citizens' and viewing an edited videotape, intended to finish with "Sigma Epsilon Chi, unlimited and free use". For instead of sympathy, his fellow frat brothers couldn't wait for him to get back, so they could finish his transformation into the frat's personal pussyboy. But first he had to get back, and the punks had a little going away present for him. He had a large dildo locked in his stretched asshole, a dog collar with slave spelled on it locked around his neck. They locked all his clothes in his trunk and told him they would mail the trunk key and the keys to the other locks to him. He was forced to start out wearing a pair of skin tight white bikinis that outlined his buttplug and piercings well as well as displaying most of his tattoos. He was without a shirt. The punks drove with him until he was in the middle of nowhere and then left him to drive on alone. He stopped at a little country store to buy some clothes to cover himself and was humiliated beyond belief by the owner and his sons. They finally agreed to sell him a lacy blouse and a skirt. He took them because it was better than nothing. Besides in oonly a few more hours he would be back among friends at the frat house!