He was a big kid. At 5’11” and almost 190 pounds of solid muscle, he was an absolute brick. Everyone treated him like a god and why not? He was the star of the football team, came from an incredibly rich family, drove a brand new Porsche, threw huge parties all the time, and rumor has it that he was trying to have sex with every girl in the school. He could have any girl he wanted with his looks. The most amazing steel blue eyes I’ve ever seen complimented his dark skin and perfect complexion. He had spiky blond hair, a perfectly square jaw, and he always wore a cocky little smile on his soft lips.

I don’t know what I ever did to piss him off in the first place. And I was never sure when to expect his daily torture ritual, all I knew was it would happen. Today he had me by my neck, and was pushing me backwards around the locker room. He had his shirt off and even though I was in pain, I loved to watch his body work. Each fiber in his muscles would twitch against his thinly stretched, tanned and flawless skin. His abs popped out of his stomach with amazing density. Each ridge of muscle was perfectly symetrical with its counterpart. The feel of his warm hands on my neck sent shivers of pain and delight up my spine. The sound of his deep voice as he yelled, “Silly little faggot”, made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. Ryan loved a crowd for this stuff, so he would always make sure that everyone heard him yelling.

Soon, there were about 25 guys watching as Ryan held me against a locker and bitch-slapped me. Over and over he hit me until the tears were streaming down my face. As soon as he saw me crying, he stopped. I thought maybe he might have felt sorry for me and a wave of relief calmed my intense fear. He stood back from me for a second, then leaned over and said, “Hey dude, Im sorry. Are you ok?”

I was shocked. This was the first nice thing he had ever said to me. He put his hand on my shoulder and slowly massaged it. His hand was so warm and soft as it kneeded my shoulder. I saw the muscles in his meaty forearm flex. Veins snaked across his dark skin. He leaned closer and put his other hand on my back, almost like a hug. I could feel the body heat radiating off his massive pecs.

Something was weird though. He had seen me cry a hundred times before and never gave it a second thought. It was almost like he was trying to get me excited. I tried to move back a bit but I held me even closer. I could feel his chest against mine. His pecs stuck out several inches from the rest of his body, so much so that his friends referred to them as man-boobs. As he held me I could feel him make his pecs flex back and forth, like some kind of strange muscle dance. As scared as I was I knew if I didn’t get out of there soon, I was gonna get a hard on. I put my hands up on his forearms and tried to push him off. I had never felt how incredibly big and powerfull they were before. As much as I struggled, he just held me closer and continued to dance his pecs back and forth against my weak chest.

There was no stopping it at this point. I felt the tingle in my shorts and before I could do anything else about it I was getting hard. Very hard. Most people are proud of being well endowed, but in this case I was very sorry to have such a noticeable erection.

“I knew it!” Ryan yelled. “The faggots got a hard on!”

Instantly the entire locker room was in an uproar of laughter and sneering.

Within seconds a chant started, “Kill the queer! Kill the queer!”

I turned to run but Ryan grabbed me by my shorts and dragged me into the shower area. His huge arms ripped the shorts off my tiny body leaving me completely naked. I tried to cover myself up but was quickly prevented by two of Ryan’s henchmen who pinned me to the ground by my neck and feet. A series of hard punches followed from Ryan as everyone cheered.

Suddenly he stopped again. He stood up and walked around me several times, strutting as he moved. The crowd hushed as he held his hands up to silence them.

“Seems like gay boy here should get what he wants.” He said. With that he pulled his shorts down enough to pull out his own meaty member. It was at least 5 inches long, flacid and was capped by the most perfect mushroom head I have ever seen. He bent down and waved it in my face. All I could do was try to turn my head away as he slapped me with it.

This was my fantasy. To have this muscular stud feed me his cock. But not like this, and not while so many people were looking simply to see me be humiliated.

He straddled me with his dick just inches from my face, then flexed his left arm. It was at least 17 inches and rippled with power.

“Feel my arm.” he commanded.

I didn’t dare. I knew what he was trying to do.

“Feel it you pussy!” he yelled with a furious look on his face.

When I refused again he grabbed my hand with his right and forced it to feel his flexed arm. He guided me hand back and forth over his huge bicep which was pumped with power and now displaying several big veins. Despite my terror, my hormones screamed with pleasure. Every logical part of my brain told me to resist, but I was soon running my hand over his flexed arm without his guidance.

Within seconds, to my delight and horror, I blew a load all over my stomach. It lasted for a few moments. My eyes rolled back in my head in ecstacy as I savored the release. I had never had an orgasm without manual stimulation and it was the most amazing feeling I have ever had. When I finally came back to my senses, Ryan was already standing up and I could hear the voices of 25 guys laughing.

Ryan stood at my feet, looking at the damage he had done. I could tell by the cocky smile on his face that he was proud to have made me mess myself just by making me feel his arm.

“We need to clean you up.” Said Ryan. He still had his dick out as he pointed it in my direction. A steady stream of warm piss came pouring over me as the locker room erupted with laughter again. I lay there humiliated and crying.

At that moment I vowed, the next time I saw Ryan, I would have my revenge. •