My Bullies

The drive back to Caleb’s house was quiet — not the tense silence of fear, but the heavy, settling quiet that follows a storm finally breaking. Ethan sat in the back seat, head resting against the window, body still buzzing from the adrenaline of the locker-room trap. His hole ached with a dull, satisfied throb, skin still tingling from the shave, the ropes, the exposure. Caleb drove, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the gear shift, jaw set but no longer clenched i

The day had built to this. After breakfast and planning, Caleb, Diego, and Ethan had spent the afternoon preparing—ropes tested, vibrators charged, times confirmed. The eight guys had shown up one by one in the locker room, lured by Ethan's texts, each thinking it was a private talk. Each captured, stripped, bound, and prepped in silence. Now, the stadium lights blazed over the college football field. The stands were packed—thousands of students, alumni, families—cheering as

Monday after school. The locker room was empty—echoing tile, faint scent of chlorine from the adjacent pool, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Ethan stood in the center, heart pounding, phone in his hand. He’d sent the texts that morning: each of the eight guys a different time, staggered ten minutes apart. “Need to talk. Locker room. Alone. Important.” Caleb and Diego waited in the shadows behind the rows of lockers, ropes ready, faces set. The first new guy arrived—the l

Ethan drifted in and out of light sleep, nestled between Caleb and Diego. The three of them had woken earlier—soft kisses, gentle touches, whispered reassurances—but none of them had wanted to leave the bed yet. They’d simply pulled the covers higher and dozed again, limbs tangled, bodies pressed close. Ethan in the middle, Caleb’s arm draped possessively over his waist from behind, Diego’s hand resting flat on Ethan’s chest from the front. The collar around Ethan’s neck felt

The living room was silent except for the low hum of the TV still showing post-game replays no one was watching. Diego stood from the corner chair—slow, deliberate, the only one who hadn’t touched Ethan or Caleb all night. He walked to the center without a word, knelt beside Caleb’s bound form, and began untying the ropes with careful, steady hands. Caleb’s fury hadn’t faded. His muscles were still corded, jaw clenched so tight it ached, eyes burning as the ropes fell away. B

The living room felt smaller with Caleb bound on the floor, wrists and ankles lashed together behind his back, naked and furious, cock traitorously hard against his stomach. Nine sets of eyes were on Ethan—naked, trembling, pre-cum dripping steadily from his denied cock onto the carpet. Mason stepped forward first, arms crossed, smirk sharp. “You heard the deal, sissy. Sacrifice yourself. Beg us to use you instead. Save your precious leader.” Ethan’s knees hit the carpet befo

The nine guys circled Caleb on the floor, ropes biting into his wrists and ankles, hog-tied and helpless. His face was red with fury, muscles straining against the binds. Mason knelt down first, knife from his pocket glinting under the living room lights. "Time to punish the leader for not sharing," he said, grinning. Caleb snarled. "Don't you fucking—" The knife sliced through Caleb's white tank in one quick cut, fabric ripping open to expose his chiseled chest. Tyler took t

TW for the next few chapters. Things get a little intense, and the consent definitely becomes a little grey to say the least. Read at your own discretion! The game clock ticked down in the final quarter. The room was loud—cheers for big plays, groans for missed calls, beer cans clinking, occasional trash talk. Ethan stayed between Caleb’s thighs the whole time, naked, knees aching against the carpet, cock still hard and leaking in slow, frustrated drips. Caleb’s hand never le

The game hit halftime with the score tied. The TV cut to commercials, and the living room filled with the low buzz of satisfied groans and beer cans clinking. Ethan stayed kneeling between Caleb’s spread thighs, naked, cock throbbing angrily against his stomach, pre-cum pooling on the carpet beneath him. The nine guys lounged around like kings, eyes flicking to him every few minutes, smirking. Caleb leaned down, fingers threading through Ethan’s hair, petting him absently. “H

The living room filled quickly. Nine boys sprawled across couches, armchairs, and the floor—beers cracked open, snacks scattered, TV already tuned to pre-game highlights. Caleb stood in the center in his black Calvins and white tank, arms crossed, looking every inch the leader. Ethan hovered near the doorway in his tiny black shorts and cropped tank, heart hammering so hard he could feel it in his throat. Caleb’s voice cut through the chatter. “Ethan. Middle of the room.” The

Caleb made breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast—simple, but the smell filled the kitchen and pulled Ethan downstairs still naked, skin flushed from the shower, hole tender and full of Diego’s cum. Caleb stood at the stove in black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs and a plain white tank top, the thin fabric clinging to his pumped chest and shoulders from the gym, every muscle line visible. His bulge was heavy and obvious in the tight underwear; the tank rode up slightly as he moved, showing

Diego left without a word. The bedroom door closed softly behind him, leaving Ethan alone on the bed—naked, trembling, Diego’s cum still warm and leaking slowly from his hole. He curled onto his side, heart hammering, mind reeling from the silent, possessive way Diego had used him. He didn’t know how long he lay there, breathing shallow, cock still aching and denied. The front door opened downstairs. Heavy footsteps. The faint scent of sweat and gym rubber drifted up the stai

Ethan knelt on the carpet, Diego’s thick cock filling his mouth. He took his time—slow, sensual, deliberate. His tongue swirled around the head in lazy circles, lips sealed tight as he slid down inch by inch, throat relaxing to take him deep. He hollowed his cheeks on the upstroke, letting the wet drag of his mouth pull a low, involuntary groan from Diego. Diego’s toes curled against the floor. His fingers tightened in Ethan’s hair—not guiding, just holding, as if he needed s

Ethan woke slowly, body heavy and warm, the sheets tangled around his legs. The room smelled of Caleb — clean sweat, faint cologne, sex. He reached out instinctively, expecting to find Caleb’s solid warmth beside him. The bed was empty. Ethan sat up, blinking against the morning light filtering through the blinds. His cock was already half-hard from dreams of the night before, the faint ache in his hole a reminder of Caleb inside him. Then he saw Diego. Silent as ever, Diego

Caleb’s bedroom door clicked shut. The room was quiet, lit only by the low glow of a bedside lamp. Caleb turned to Ethan, still completely naked, and for the first time all day his touch was gentle. He cupped Ethan’s face with both hands, thumbs brushing over his flushed cheeks, and kissed him softly. “You were so good today,” he whispered against Ethan’s lips. “My perfect boy.” He walked Ethan backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed, then eased him down onto the sh

Caleb’s hand stayed on the back of Ethan’s neck as he guided him down the hallway, still completely naked, cock hard and dripping. The kiss in the living room had left Ethan dazed, lips swollen, mind spinning. They stepped into the bathroom. Caleb flicked on the light, then the shower. Hot water hissed to life. “Inside.” Ethan stepped under the spray. Caleb followed, closing the glass door behind them. The steam rose quickly, filling the small space. Caleb took the soap and l

The drive was completely silent. Caleb’s hand rested on the gear shift, eyes fixed on the road. Ethan sat in the passenger seat, still naked under the thin hoodie and shorts, cock throbbing painfully against the damp fabric, pre-cum soaking through in a dark patch. Every bump in the road made him whimper quietly. Caleb never looked at him once. When they pulled into Caleb’s driveway, the engine cut off. The sudden quiet felt heavier than anything that had happened all day. “S

They were almost at the exit when the walkie-talkie crackled. “Security to main corridor. We’ve got a report of indecent exposure near the art store.” Two guards appeared — one older, one a tall, broad-shouldered 19-year-old with a buzzcut and a name tag that read “JAX”. Jax’s eyes flicked to Caleb, and the tiniest smirk passed between them. Caleb’s friend. Jax stepped straight up to Ethan. “You,” he said, voice loud enough for half the corridor to hear. “Hands behind your ba

The mall's main corridor was a blur of shoppers as they headed toward the exit, Ethan's legs wobbly from the photo booth ordeal, the printed strips burning a hole in Caleb's pocket. His shorts chafed against his smooth, shaved skin, pre-cum making the fabric stick uncomfortably. The group laughed about the teens' reactions, replaying Diego's video on mute, but Ethan walked in silence, face still flaming, cock half-hard from the constant humiliation. On the way out, Mason spot

Ethan's heart hadn't stopped racing since the underwear store. The new pairs were in a bag Caleb carried, slutty fabrics peeking out—thongs, jocks, mesh briefs that made his smooth skin tingle just thinking about them. The mall was packed now, echoes of laughter and footsteps bouncing off the walls. His shorts rubbed against his bare cock with every step, pre-cum still damp from the earlier dare. Caleb spotted the photo booth first—an old-style one tucked in a corner, curtain