My Bullies - Chapter Thirty-Three

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 a strip of toned lower abs.

He glanced at Ethan, eyes darkening with possession as he took in the smooth, marked body.

“Sit,” Caleb said, sliding a plate across the island.

Ethan obeyed, perching on the stool, cock already stirring at the casual command. Caleb leaned against the counter opposite him, arms crossed, the white tank stretching across his pecs.

“Today’s the game,” Caleb said between bites of his own food. “The boys are coming over. And a few others from school. Ten of us total.”

Ethan’s fork paused mid-air. His stomach flipped—fear and heat twisting together.

Caleb’s voice stayed calm, almost gentle.

“You’re going to behave. All day. Do exactly what you’re told. No questions. No arguments. Be the perfect little toy.” He reached across the island, thumb brushing Ethan’s lower lip. “If you do… I may let you cum again tonight.”

Ethan swallowed hard, cock twitching visibly against his thigh.

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb’s smile was slow. Satisfied.

The doorbell rang twenty minutes later.

Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs.

Caleb opened the door in just his black Calvins and white tank, completely unselfconscious. The house filled with voices—Mason’s loud laugh, Tyler’s teasing drawl, Diego’s quiet steps, and five other guys Ethan recognized from school: the lacrosse captain, two football players, a wrestler, and a quiet kid from the swim team

They poured in, slapping hands, dropping bags of snacks and beer, already hyped for the game.

They saw Ethan standing in the kitchen doorway—naked except for the tiny black shorts and cropped white tank Caleb had dressed him in. The shorts rode low, barely covering his ass; the crop top exposed the smooth plane of his stomach and the faint red marks from yesterday’s handling.

The room went quiet for a second.

Then Mason whistled low. “Damn, look at our sissy all dressed up.”

Tyler smirked. “Smooth as fuck. Caleb’s been busy.”

The new guys stared—some shocked, some grinning, all hungry.

Ethan audibly gulped, throat clicking. His cock thickened against the thin fabric, pre-cum already darkening the front. Fear coiled in his gut at the sheer number of eyes on him, the knowledge that every single one of them could use him today.

But beneath the fear was heat—thick, shameful arousal at the thought of what the day held.

Caleb stepped behind him, hand possessive on the small of his back, black Calvins pressing against Ethan’s ass through the shorts.

“Game’s on in an hour,” he said to the room. “Until then… Ethan’s here to serve.”

The boys laughed, low and eager.

Ethan’s knees trembled.