Locker Room Shame
By fearlessemu98.
[google-translator]
I’ll confess, for reasons that are best left to a psychiatrist, I still wore tighty whities in gym. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I enjoyed the attention. And when push came to shove, the humiliation of it. For some reason, it is something society did not wish to tolerate.
And with my petite frame, my two-inch member (four when I’m hard!), that’s the story I’m going with. I didn’t just change for gym class, I enjoyed changing for gym class. My heart would pound an hour before gym.
When the moment of truth would come, and I could undress alongside my peers, wearing nothing but a tiny and tight white strip that revealed just how tiny I myself was. No, I’d leave it to the real alphas of the bunch to wear masculine boxers.
As I became more comfortable performing my oh so subtle striptease fantasized about wearing bikini briefs or heaven forbid, even panties. With my size, I was sure I’d have no problem slipping into them.
The first guy to notice my stripping sessions was, of course, the fellow beside me. Tim, who had no choice but to condemn me for this process. Perhaps I was too much for poor Tim.
His warning to me was that if I kept undressing before I had my locker open, standing in nothing but my tighty-whities, I’d earn myself a new nickname.
At first, I felt shame for being called out; I had to retreat for a spell. Terrified his attention would manifest itself in ways I couldn’t handle. It suddenly all seemed so dangerous.
The following semester, I found myself in such a situation.
His name was Dylan, and his compatriot Cole, and their little camera that would prove my undoing…
*****
It happened on a Friday, just like any other. I was finishing up my homework in the chemistry lab when Dylan and Cole arrived. At first, I didn’t pay them much mind, that they, like me, had some homework to do.
When I looked up and caught a predatory grin from Dylan, I could tell there was work to be done, or rather a job; I just didn’t know I was the one who was going to do it. Or rather, giving it.
I heard the deadbolt lock slide into the door, and I looked up to see Cole testing it, with Dylan before me.
Before I could ask what was up, Dylan took the lead.
“When are you expected home after class?” he asked in a dead serious way, as if I shouldn’t even think about being clever or cute.
“I usually go home right after,” I said, even sounding to myself like a loser.
“You got roommates?” he asked.
I shook my head. I still lived with my mom and didn’t want to disclose this fact.
“You live alone?” he asked, his tone commanding.
“Still with my mom,” I said quietly.
He didn’t reply right away but scoffed lightly.
“Of course you do. Text your mom, tell her you’re going golfing with some friends. Not the whole 18, just the first five. A pussy like you couldn’t handle more.”
My fingers were trembling as I took out my phone and pecked out the message.
“Add,” he said with a pause before doing an unflattering impression of my high voice, “we’re all really bad at golf, so it’ll probably be a few hours!”
I sent the message and looked up. “O-Okay,” I stammered. “Sent.”
Dylan nodded as if I had been a good boy by obeying. And if that might work in my favor at some point. But not now.
He sighed as if relieved and spoke loudly enough for Cole to hear, who had remained by the door as if on lookout. “That takes care of that.” He then tossed the phone to Cole, who, being the baseball player he was, caught it with ease. “So we’ve got him in the science lab, and his mommy will be glad for their loser son to have some friends, even if they’re just as big a pussy as he is.”
“Now what?” I asked, unsure if I’d just allowed myself to be kidnapped.
“Now it’s simple, you little bitch. Strip.”
I felt the blood drain from my face and felt dizzy at his tone.
He leaned down to me and whispered in my ear. “Look. I know you better than you know yourself. I know what you want even if you don’t. So when I call you my bitch, it’s not an insult. It’s what you are. It’s a fact of life. A fact of nature. A little bitch like you submits to an alpha like me. Got it?”
I nodded involuntarily.
My alpha stood up and took a seat in the professor’s chair.
“Now,” he said as if relaxing to enjoy himself. “Strip.”
My mouth was dry. But I shakily rose to my feet. Unsure if I should make a run for it. But that would require bravery. This, I thought, required it too, but if I didn’t have bravery, I would be forced to do what I didn’t have the courage for.
I unbuttoned my shirt and folded it on the table next to me.
“Come closer,” my alpha told me. “Down to your tighty-whities.”
And I obeyed. When he motioned for me to stop and gestured nonchalantly at my pants, I unbuckled my belt and opened my pants, sliding them down.
“Keep your shoes on. It looks sexier that way.”
I caught a shallow breath, unsure of how a pathetic twerp with a tiny penis wearing his Converse and his tighty-whities could ever be sexy. I struggled to get my shoes through my pants but somehow managed, feeling more awkward than ever.
“Don’t worry, loser, we’re not going to strip you completely naked. This was just to prove a point. You’re weak and pathetic and…” my alpha leaned forward as if inspecting my faint bulge. “Wait, are those children’s size?”
I nodded. He wasn’t wrong. I had yet to graduate out of the children’s last size.
“They fit better,” I offered up weakly. Unable to look up.
I heard them both laugh and then heard my alpha sigh.
“Of course they do,” he said, pausing until he had the nerve to look up at him again. “Want to see what a real one looks like?”
I nodded, and when I heard him unbuckling his pants, I looked up far more eagerly than I should have.
And I was greeted by something twice my size, even at my hardest. And. It. Wasn’t. Even. Hard.
“That’s a real one,” he said proudly. “Cole has a real one, too. I’m sure he’ll show it to you.”
“If you’re lucky,” Cole added.
My mouth was as dry as a desert.
My alpha smiled and leaned back in the professor’s chair, his exposed cock tilting up with him. He nodded down at himself as if it was obvious what I should do now.
“Go on, play with it. See what a real cock feels like in your hands.”
I knelt and examined him. I couldn’t help but be impressed with the amount of hair he had on his legs. Especially compared to mine. I took him in both hands, still in awe that I could even take him in both hands. I could practically feel the blood surging through him in a way that it never did for me. Never would for me.
I gasped as I could notice it pulsing, throbbing with blood as it inched up towards me, like an arrow of lust pointed right at me.
“And see what it feels like in your mouth.”
I looked up at my Aloha, who was nodding to Cole as if proud they had succeeded.
Instinctively, I took him into my mouth and did my best to please him. I was running on adrenaline, fear, and instinct. Worried for the moment until I heard him:
“Good bitch.,” he said, his voice suddenly darker, as if the entire time he had been putting on the act of a bully and was no longer someone else entirely. Someone seductive, exotic.
I was.
I was a good bitch.
And I was happy to be one.
It was as if I understood my position in the universe. Why had I ever kidded myself that I could sleep with women? I should just be content to suck on alpha cocks… when they didn’t have anyone better to do.
“Someone’s a natural,” he murmured with a very passing British secret agent voice.
And as I pretended I had Mi-6 in my mouth, I let out a little murmur of satisfaction.
This went on for a few beautiful moments before Dylan commanded me to stop and pull back.
I reluctantly did as told, as if coming out of a state of hypnosis, and as I dreamily opened my eyes, I felt my alpha’s essence upon my face. And that was when I noticed the camera lenses staring at me.
I begged and pleaded for them to delete the video. This went on for hours, and I was still only wearing my tighty-whities, my Converse, and Dylan’s cum on my face. They let me beg and beg, first insisting I lap up the cum (which I did), before they dropped the real hammer:
This was only the beginning. Suppose I didn’t want that video ever to get out. I’d have to keep doing these movies. I’d even have to film some myself.
“Your first ass-ignment,” Cole said. “Will be your neighbor in the locker room. The one who disproves of you in your little white briefs.”
How would I ever approach Tim? And not just approach… seduce?
The End.
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