It’s been two weeks since I got laid off, and I have made up my mind. I was going to pack the last of my unsold goods and make the long trip back to California. I missed the sun, and I was sure it missed me too.
I had a great run, I thought. I met lots of great people and even got a chance to fall in love, even if it didn’t work out in the end.
“You can’t win them all” I thought to myself.
It was overcast again, the blue colors of night filling the sky. Boy, was it beautiful and depressing at the same time. The wind carried the smell of fresh foliage. I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with its freshness. I was going to miss the fresh air more than anything else.
I decided to hit the gym one last time; tomorrow, I needed to be up bright and early.
The drive to the gym was uneventful. I checked in with Amy and made my way to the free weights. I had always been in good shape, but recently, I made sure to put in the work.
Returning to California felt like retreating, yet the idea of a fresh start was tempting. The memories of failed relationships and missed opportunities gnawed at me, but maybe a change of scenery could finally shake off the feeling of being stuck.
I walked into the locker room, ripped off my clothes, opened my locker, and took out a towel, walking into the open showers with just flip-flops and a towel.
“Nice, man,” I heard another guy say. I looked up. “Thanks, man.” It was nice to be complimented. “I’m Tom,” I said, reaching out to shake the guy’s hand.
“Jeff, nice to meet you, Tom.”
We exchanged quick introductions as the locker room buzzed with the usual noise. The pounding music and teens clowning around filled the background, but I focused on Jeff. There was something about him that drew me in, and before I knew it, I was sharing more than I should.
We had run into each other working out on several occasions, but we usually stuck to ourselves, headphones on and focused on the task at hand.
I noticed Jeff was also fit, and the man was packing. Like any guy, of course, I was comparing myself all the time to other dudes—we all do it. I did find it odd that all his body hair was neatly shaved, from his chest to his cock and balls too. No hair other than on his head. He had a tattoo on his right arm of two solid black bands mid-bicep. He was about 6 feet tall with a strong frame.
I noticed Jeff was also doing the same, his eyes looking me over, and I didn’t mind. I was 6’2”, semi-hairy but trimmed. Like most guys, I shaved my cock and balls clean, leaving that clearing at the base of my genitalia, forming a ring where the hair stopped. My body was chiseled, and the years on the wrestling team in high school and college had left me with that build that chicks loved.
We kept chatting in the changing rooms, and Jeff even brought his stuff over to my section to keep the conversation going. Fuck, I thought, he looks like a model with blond, chiseled looks. He bent over as he dropped something in his hand, giving me a good look at his ass—he had a hairless pink hole. I looked away, and we kept chatting.
As I talked to Jeff about my plans to return to California, a small voice in the back of my mind questioned why I was revealing so much to a stranger. Was it because I was just desperate for someone to validate my decision? Every instinct told me to be cautious, yet there was something about Jeff that made me drop my guard. He explained his one-man media empire, centered around social media and a subscription-based model that kept customers hooked.
I had an Instagram account, and I loved looking at travel posts and the occasional hot babes that showed up—I mean, I followed a few.
“Hey man, mind sharing a drink with me, as a hello and goodbye?” Jeff said brightly with a big smile on his face. “I’m not a drunk,” he laughed, “but I always have drinks in my van, cold and ready.”
I accepted, and we walked out to his van. It was parked at the back of the parking lot, semi-covered by the lanky tree right next to it. His van had a huge sliding side door. The black exterior finish was dull, but for a work truck, I thought … as long as it gets the job done.
Jeff opened his front door, leaned into the floor of the passenger side, and opened a huge cooler that covered most of the floor. He reached in, and after a little searching and shuffling things around, came out with two drinks. “But first, a shot,” he said, handing me a small, clear shot glass filled to the rim. “Worst that can happen is you leave with a headache,” and we both laughed.
“One, two, three,” and I swallowed the shot, followed by the cold beer he handed me after. He was telling me about his love for… I recall blinking, and then I was out.
A low, persistent hum vibrated through the metal beneath me, jolting me awake. My mouth ached with an unfamiliar pressure, something cold and hard wedged between my teeth. I used my tongue to feel around it—the surface was plastic, and it was round.
I tried to use my arm to pull whatever this thing was out, but I could not. I was stuck. I tried pulling my other arm, and it was no use. Had I fallen into some bushes? How drunk was I? I tried feeling my legs under me, but they too were being held tight by something.
“Don’t panic, Tom,” I thought to myself in this mental haze. “Shake a little to dislodge yourself. Not the first time this has happened.” I shook in hopes of being unstuck, only to hear the rustling of metal in the distance.
What in the hell?, I thought, I’m not stuck in some bush—I’m in a car. But how? And why? I felt the tug in my guts as the car came to a stop. I tried to mumble something, but I had forgotten I had something keeping me shut. The metallic scrape of a door sliding open cut through the darkness, followed by a voice that made my blood run cold: 'I got you, buddy.” I heard a voice. “Here you go,” I felt a wet towel placed over my face, and then…I was out again.
I felt saliva falling out of my mouth. Something was still in my mouth. ‘Aaaarrgghh,’ I heard myself choking on something, but what? I tried moving my arm, but something was holding me in place. I tried the other, and the same thing—I was stuck, but how? ‘Aaaarggghhh,’ I felt myself choking again. I was too hazed to open my eyes, but something was not right. “Aaaaaaaarrrgggghhhhhh,” I was rasping for breath. “Aaaaaaarrrrggggghhhh,” my body moved as I took a breath with urgency. “Uuuuuhhhhmmmph,” was the sound I made as something was shoved right back in. I was able to explore with my tongue—it was hot, thick, and there was a bulbous head of this thing with some saltiness.
I started to struggle for breath. I pulled and shook, but all I heard was the rattling of chains somewhere in the distance. As I struggled, I felt my face being pulled forward, being held in place. My body started spasming all on its own. My saliva felt thick, salty, but I swallowed to clear my throat. Some of it—lots of it—was able to fall out of my mouth.
I gasped as my mouth was freed, swallowing and clearing my throat. I was still shaking the chains.
I could hear heavy breathing, but it was not my own. I felt my head being lifted—I could not open my eyes yet. Something was wrong.
“Slap, SLAP, SSSL AAAP,” the sting emanated from my face to my body. The chains shook again as I jerked.
Sounds in the background, like a stadium filled with people.
I felt my balls and cock swinging free underneath me. I pulled on the restraints—how? Where am I? What was going on? The haze was lifting slowly from me.
“Click, click, click, click,” I heard, and then the shuffle of metal equipment. “What happened?” I thought, “I can’t move.” I pulled on my restraints with more strength, but it was useless. I tried moving my legs, but I was not even touching the floor. Am I dreaming, I thought? I moved my fingers around slowly, feeling for something that could ground my senses. I reached towards my wrists and felt the strap around my wrists. Next, as I jerked my body again, I felt it—something across my chest holding me up. Shit, I thought, I’m tied up! I’m hanging, and I’m naked. I rattled the chains again, pulling and kicking, the noises rising. I was desperate—where the fuck was I, and what the hell was going on? “Click, click, click, click,” as all of this was happening.
I felt something cup my cock and balls from behind me. My legs were spread—I could feel that now. Oh no! I thought that something cupping my balls was a hand.
“Slap, slap, SLAP!” I was writhing in pain, pulling and jerking, trying to get away, my balls falling out of someone’s hand from the pain of being slapped.
I tried to scream, but it came out as more of a garbled mess. I was still working my way out of a daze. I felt the grip and pull on my balls again. "Slap, slap, SLAP!" This time, I was able to yell, opening my eyes for the first time from the pain. The pain had freed me from the haze that had been hanging over me.
Moments passed, and I became more awake and present, the sounds of something closing in the background.
My eyes darted around frantically until they locked onto a camera directly in front of me, its green light piercing through the darkness, reflecting my terrified face back at me. I noticed little thumbs-up icons popping up. I was being recorded.
My gaze darted around the room, panic rising with each detail that came into focus. More cameras stared back at me, their lenses unblinking. My heart pounded as the horrible truth settled in—there might be more, hidden, capturing every angle. I was bound—arms, legs, torso—secured so tightly that escape was impossible. Desperation surged as I struggled against the restraints, but they held fast. There was no way out.
“Hello?” I called out, hoping that maybe someone watching could help if they knew I was being held against my will. My voice hadn’t fully regained its strength, and I could taste something slimy and salty in my mouth. Was I drugged? I wondered. How did this happen?
"Please, if anyone’s out there—my name’s Tom, I’m from California. Help me... Please." My voice was shaky and unclear, my throat felt raw, and my jaw strained as I continued. “Tom Lightfoot. I’m originally from California. I was living in Washington before I was taken... Jeff took me,” I said weakly, struggling to control my emotions. “I think I was drugged. Please, I need help. If anyone can get this to the police,” I pleaded, tears slipping down my face.
A barrage of 'bing, bing, bing' sounds erupted, too many to count, echoing ominously in the small space. as the screens on the three cameras around me lit up. I looked into the viewer in front of me, only to see thumbs-up and heart emojis flooding the screen. I sharpened my focus and glanced around—the camera in front of me had 130 active viewers, the one to my right, capturing my side view as I dangled naked, had 171 active viewers, and the one to my left had 33 active viewers.
I heard the click of keys, and then the side of the wall slid open. “Fuck,” I thought, realizing I was in Jeff’s work truck!
Slowly, like a nightmare coming into focus, the events that led me here began to crystallize in my mind. I remembered the shot and then the beer Jeff gave me. I recalled how dazed I felt and Jeff saying, “You don’t look so good, buddy. Let me help you take a seat in my van; you’ll be more comfortable there.”
I also remembered Jeff’s face as he kissed me, how he dug his hands down my shorts to jerk me off until I got hard. “There it is. Looks good—a big dick. Balls could be bigger, but they hang nicely. You will definitely please my clients,” I recalled him saying.
I remembered being put on the floor of the van, the cold metal floor bit into my skin, the chill seeping through my body, sending a shiver through me. Jeff methodically pulled off my shirt, shoes, and socks, then positioned my arms before finally removing my shorts. “I had a hunch you’d be missing your underwear,” I heard him say joyfully.
“Click, click, click,” the sound of a dozen pictures being taken echoed around me. “Good, now it’s only a matter of time before the clients start calling. These pics look amazing! Damn, I’m lucky.”
“You awake, sunshine?” Jeff’s voice cut through my haze. I looked up at him, anger rising within me. “Jeff, as soon as I get out of here, I’m going to kick your ass!” I looked past him and saw nothing but dense woods surrounding us. “Where the fuck are we, Jeff?!
“Well, well, well,” Jeff muttered as he walked in and closed the sliding door behind him. The space was tight, just enough room for him to move around.
“You’re not going anywhere, Tom. I made sure of that.” he said, walking towards my face and picking up a tablet from a slot in the van’s interior, casually typing on it. “Second, we’re in the middle of the woods. “No one can hear you out here. This van is my personal studio—completely soundproof.”
“By the way, thanks for introducing yourself to my audience—it really helped boost the bidding price,” Jeff said, looking down at the tablet as he continued typing.
“Jeff, you son of a bitch!” I yelled, but my words were cut short as Jeff stuffed four fingers into my mouth. I jerked and pulled, but I couldn’t break free. I struggled to breathe, my face flushing with the effort, until he finally withdrew his hand, leaving me gasping for air.
“Now listen up, Tom,” Jeff began, his anger rising. “I’m running a business here, and I’m making good money—damn good money—and I’m not about to let you fuck this up for me.”
He pointed at the cameras. “Relax, no one’s watching… yet. Let’s make sure you’re ready for the main event.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?!” I shouted, the knot in my gut tightening as fear crept in, the horrifying reality starting to take shape.
Jeff looked at me, his expression one of plain frustration. “I’m a one-man media company,” he said proudly.“I’m always on the lookout for fresh faces, and you caught my eye.” he continued, his gaze turning predatory as he licked his lips. “Then I set up the scene and the cameras,” he added, pointing around as if counting: one in front of me, one to my right, one to my left, and one behind me. “Oh, and the ones on the floor—clients love those too.”
He read the shock on my face and continued, “I post some pics on a private forum online, and members pay for what they want to see.”
I stared in stunned silence, my mind reeling. This can’t be true, I thought. Jeff cupped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “For example,” he said with a sinister smile, “they wanted to see a rough, long face fuck—up close and personal.”
I was stunned, and for the first time, I felt real fear. Was he going to face fuck me? “They get off on seeing you helpless, unaware. That’s what they paid for.” he said, letting the words hang in the air long enough for my emotions to surge.
“No need to worry about that, Tom,” he continued with a twisted smile. “You were out cold while I had my fun. And trust me, you took it all.” The blurred realization hit me like a freight train—my hazy experience wasn’t a dream. I had been face fucked, my head held in place... Was there cheering?
He looked down at me with a commanding presence. “And guess what you did, Tom, You didn’t even realize it, did you? You swallowed every last drop without thinking.”
“No fucking way. NO FUCKING WAY!” I yelled, my voice trembling with disbelief. The words burst out of me before I could stop them, 'I’m not gay!' But as they echoed in the small, confined space, they felt hollow, almost desperate. What did it matter what I was or wasn’t? The violation, the humiliation—none of it was about sexuality. It was about power, control, and the shattering of everything I thought I knew about myself.
“And you were hard the whole time,” he spat, his words laced with venom that chipped away at my world.
“This can be real” I repeated, my voice shaky. I’m straight; I’ve never been interested in men. He had to be lying, but the ache in my mouth and the lingering taste... How could I explain that? I was in shock, overwhelmed by the utter hopelessness of my situation.
“I know you’re not gay, Tom. I made sure to watch you, to follow you long before I made my move in the showers.”
“Then what the fuck is this?” I yelled. “Simple. My clients pay top dollar for straight boys to be... uhm... introduced to the joys of gay sex,” he said, extending his arms to showcase the fully stocked van with toys of all shapes and sizes—harnesses, clamps, ropes.
My mouth hung open in utter disbelief. “The first request, that face fuck?” Jeff continued, “Paid me 5K.”
“And since you’ll be leaving soon, I offered a once-in-a-lifetime show where one more request would be accepted. “I name the price, and they don’t hesitate. You’re worth every penny to them.” he said casually, like a businessman discussing a deal.
“Other members can watch at a discounted rate, a flat fee. But they don’t get your clothes, printed pictures, or 4K lifetime streaming video replay,” he added, sounding like a savvy salesman. “They get a much lower resolution, no way of saving the video, and no option to replay it ever again.”
“Jeff, listen, I have savings I can give you. You can’t do this,” I pleaded, desperation creeping into my voice.
“No can do. You’re locked and loaded,” Jeff replied coolly.
“Ping!” The sound from his tablet made him grin. “Looks like we have a winner,” he said with excitement, typing a response. He pulled out his cell, checked something, and added with a smirk, “It’s my lucky day.”
“Jeff, JEFF, please!” I begged, my voice rising with fear.
“Sorry,” Jeff said, dismissing my plea.“I always deliver exactly what my clients pay for and they’re paying top dollar for you.”
“I’m about to turn on the lights and unmute the video feed. It’s all you now, big boy. Don’t be shy—you have an amazing sculpted body.”
The overhead lights snapped on, bathing the room in a red, eerie glow that felt otherworldly and oppressive.
Jeff stood before me, casually stripping away his clothes, each piece revealing more of his defined, muscular frame.
I watched in horror as he clicked a few buttons on the tablet. “We’re on,” he announced proudly.
I was stunned to see the visuals on the displays change. No longer was it just me, dangling tied and bound, but now the screens filled with the faces of men—some old, some young, and some who looked like they were straight out of high school—along with male couples.
All of them were in various states of undress and sexual arousal. They were clean-cut, manicured, and even through the video feed, they all looked expensive.
A single large tablet was placed in front of my face, its attached light shining on me, making the red retreat slightly so that my features were clear and my face recognizable.
The tablet screen came to life, and to my shock, I recognized the man’s face.
“Welcome, guests and patrons. Today we have something special. He’s already introduced himself, and judging by the number of people here, you’ve found him sexy and worth your coin,” Jeff announced as I pulled on the chains and straps in a futile attempt to escape, anger and terror boiling inside me.
Cheers erupted from the men on the other side of the stream.
“He was a special request, and you know I don’t like to disappoint,” Jeff announced, as applause burst from the crowd.
“Our special guest and winning bidder, Mr. Wilson,” Jeff continued, as more congratulatory clapping filled the room. Mr. Wilson sat in a wide chair, dressed sharply in a business suit and tie.
I stared in disbelief. Mr. Wilson had been my wrestling coach in college, in Northern California. He always had a group of guys around him, and I’d heard rumors that he’d won the lottery after I graduated. Some said he owned a bar in a southern college town and had managed his profits well enough to be earning a six-figure salary.
I had trained with him, and never did I suspect this of him.
“The lucky bidder has made a very specific request,” Jeff said as he moved behind me and positioned himself between my legs. Jeff pulled my head back in a dominating show of force. “A cherry-busting, rough anal fuck—to stop only when Tom cums.”
My eyes widened in horror as cheers and thumbs-up emojis flooded the screens.
I pleaded and begged Jeff, Mr. Wilson, and anyone watching for mercy, but the frenzy on the other side of the screen only intensified. I pulled and jerked in vain at my restraints, but there was no escaping. I was trapped, with no hope of loosening my bonds.
I felt Jeff rubbing oil onto my skin, highlighting my sculpted frame as he massaged it section by section. Even in my distress, I could see the hungry eyes fixated on my body, watching Jeff’s hands as they reached my muscular ass cheeks. He began to massage and oil them, teasing my exposed hole with just the tip of his finger. I clenched and swayed, trying to escape his touch, but the crowd went wild, their excitement visible in the words, texts, and emojis flooding the screen.
I knew what was coming, but even in this hopeless situation, I had to try to resist.
“!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!” I screamed with all my might, the sound catching in my throat as I arched my back, using my arms to push myself up slightly. In one agonizing movement, Jeff shoved his entire cock into my virgin hole.
The cheering drowned out my screams, and everyone clapped as Mr. Wilson nodded in approval, satisfied with the way my hole had been busted open.
I screamed until my throat burned, but the terror had stolen my voice—only silent, desperate cries remained, my eyes bulged, my body shaking from the pain.
The waves of cheering and emojis popping up on the screen were overwhelming. “Take it, slut,” “not straight anymore,” “cockslut”—just some of the things I could make out from the crowd.
I was being fucked hard and rough, my body trembling with each thrust that sent Jeff’s cock deep inside me.
After what felt like a lifetime of neck-breaking thrusts, Jeff began working my asshole with deliberate skill—slowing down, then speeding up, then switching to deep and forceful strokes.
To my surprise, I felt Jeff’s dick slam into a spot inside me that made me moan, "Mmmm," I said weakly, as the crowd cheered on.
“AaaaaAAAAH MMMM,” I moaned again as my penis began to stir. "Aaaahhhhh," I moaned against my will, recalling the sounds my female partners made when I power-fucked them until they came. Fuck, I thought, this is probably what they felt.
“Oh SHIT!” I yelled, clawing at my restraints as my penis became fully engorged.
The cheers rose again, the men in the crowd keeping pace as they jerked off. “Fuck yeah, that’s what I paid for” “Fuck him till he cums,” “I’m cumming,” “You’re a fucking slut,” “Harder, Daddy!”
I was getting fucked hard, my dick stiff and swinging beneath me as my balls slapped and bounced from colliding with Jeff’s. Jeff had settled into a power-fuck mode, driving into me like a piston. He was stretching my virgin ass to its limit
I was embarrassed—how the fuck was I hard while getting fucked by another man, and why did it hurt so good? I was fighting a losing battle.
I felt Jeff bring his hands to my face, his index fingers hooking into my cheeks and pulling, forcing my back to arch.
“Uuuuuhhhhmmm,” I moaned as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. My body was now sweating, glistening in the red glow. “Yeah, bitch,” “Give in, straight boy,” “Straight to gay,” the patrons yelled in glee and dominance.
As my balls tightened painfully, a scream tore from my throat, raw and instinctual.", “No, NO, NOOOOOOOOOO!” I tried to pull myself away as far as I could, but it was too late.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” I yelled as my swinging cock shot its first glob of cum out of it, while Jeff pounded me without restraint.
“Fuck, Fuck, FuuuUUUCCCCKKK!” I screamed as the second spurt of cum shot out of me, my breath coming in short, hurried gasps.
“Yea ooh YEEEEESSSSS,” I yelled as the most amazing, euphoric sensation overwhelmed me. I shook violently, my eyes glazing over as I surrendered to the pleasure radiating from my asshole.
I slumped over, no longer fighting, fully accepting my defeat. “Yes, bitch,” “The glazed look always gives the new gay man away,” “Beg for more,” “Such a great find,” the crowd taunted.
I felt Jeff's hands reach for my face, angling it towards Mr. Wilson. I was breathing heavily, moaning as Jeff announced he was about to cum in my hole. My eyes widened as I felt the hot cum spill deep inside me, my mouth agape in shock.
The look of victory on Wilson's face was unmistakable as he watched me lose the last remnants of my dignity and manhood.
Jeff pulled out roughly from my asshole, and I yelped as clumps of hot cum leaked from between my asscheeks, down my drained balls, and onto the floor below.
The cheers reached their crescendo. “Thank you, kind gents, and thank you for all the tips as well—that was gracious of you,” Jeff said with finality.
One by one, the crowd left until only Mr. Wilson remained, studying me—helpless, tied down, newly fucked, and newly gay.
Jeff put a wet rag over my face, and within minutes, I passed out.
I woke up in my car, naked, with cum on my face and hair. A large yellow manila folder lay on the seat next to me, the words ‘Happy Saturday, safe journey home’ scrawled across it. I was parked in front of my apartment.
Panicking, I looked around before making a run from the car to the front door, keys in hand, terrified of being seen. I got inside and locked the door behind me, finally safe.
But as I stepped further in, I realized something was wrong—I had walked into an empty apartment. Cautiously, I moved from room to room, ignoring the pain and discomfort coursing through my body. Every room had been emptied and cleaned meticulously. In the bathroom, I found a single towel, a pair of canvas shorts, a white wife beater, and a white thong.
In the mirror, a yellow post-it note caught my eye. It read:
“Courtesy of Mr. Wilson.”
I hopped into the shower and scrubbed myself clean. After drying off, I put on the thong. It was rather small for my build, but I had no time to be picky—besides, it framed my muscular ass perfectly.
“What the hell was that about?” I muttered to myself, still reeling from the events.
I pulled on the wife beater and shorts, noticing that they were semi-sheer—anyone staring long enough could easily see what lay underneath.
“Let’s get moving,” I heard my inner voice push me forward, a growing sense of dread urging me not to linger.
I walked to my car, trying to act as normal as possible, and noticed that the back seat was packed with my belongings. I opened the trunk and found more boxes, everything neatly packed.
I couldn’t afford to think—I just needed to get out, now.
I got in the car and drove to the gas station at the edge of town, filling up my tank. As I held the manila folder in my lap, I clung to a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, this nightmare would stay hidden. But deep down, I knew the truth—one wrong move, one misstep, and my darkest secrets would be laid bare for the world to see. The fear of exposure gnawed at me, more suffocating than the pain I had endured. How could I ever face anyone again if they knew what had been done to me? my stomach dropped—inside were several pictures of me being fucked, gagging on dick, my face contorted in pain and struggle, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Tell anyone, and all your contacts and addresses—past and present—get copies of these pictures and links to videos of you cumming like a cheap whore.” the note read.
The back of the manila folder read “Continue your journey.” Then a name to a college town bar in the South. “Looking for bartenders to train. Ask for Brian.”
I shoved the photos back into the manila folder, heart racing. Go home or embrace this twisted new path? The choice gnawed at me, but there was no time to dwell. I had to move, and fast
“Hey there, sir,” old man Thomas came walking up to the car, studying my face.“You forgot your receipt.” he said, smiling.
“Thank you, you're too kind,” I said, taking the small, folded paper before driving off.
A few miles down the road, I was still holding onto the gas station receipt for some reason. I was about to toss it out the window when I noticed red writing on it. I carefully unfolded the receipt to read the message:
“Great fuckin show” - Thomas
I tossed the paper out the window, a smile creeping over my face and I started driving toward the unknown.
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