I was never much of a jock. Alright, to be truthful, I wasn’t athletic in the least. I had never played any sports in High School – I was too small and too uncoordinated. I hated gym class – it only proved the point and the other guys never failed to point out how inept I was. They hated having me on their team as I was sure to screw up and cost them the game. The football team was the worst at harassing me. They would make sure that I was somehow tackled by mistake every time we played flag football in gym.
Rubbing my face in the dirt before I was able to get up, they never failed to remind me that I sure acted like a queer, or a fag, or a pussy boy.
They also made the showers and locker room a nightmare for me. I was constantly being snapped with towels in the ass or dick. My street clothes and gym shorts had a way of disappearing while I was in the shower and I would frequently find nothing but somebody else’s used jockstrap in my gym locker. I was forced out into the hallway – in just that jockstrap – numerous times – they always made sure to hold the locker room door shut so I had to walk all the way around to get to the gym teacher’s office. Since he was an old high school football star himself, he never had any sympathy. He’d toss a pair of old stained sweats at me to wear for the rest of the day. We were not allowed to leave the campus unless it was a desperate emergency. So I spent the afternoons wearing some guy’s stinking jock and a pair of dirty, torn sweats. My clothes would usually turn up the next day.
The main gym locker room was connected to the football team’s locker room by a short hallway that passed by the coach’s office. The lockers were full-sized in the team’s room versus half-sized in the gym’s. Several times they managed to drag me – always naked – into the team locker room where they stuffed me into a locker, padlocked it, and left me there for the rest of the day. They had made it clear that I would be left there overnight if I screamed for help. They would release me when football practice was over and would leave me to fend for myself to find something to wear home – the gym locker room and the rest of the school were always locked by that time of day. I was usually able to find a towel and make a mad dash to my house – hoping not to be seen.
Every once in a while they would grab me in the locker room and shove some guy’s well-used jock in my mouth and use athletic tape wrapped around my head to keep it in place. They would strip me naked and then use the tape to hog tie me. They would toss me in one of the equipment storage rooms and leave me there for the rest of the day. The taste of the jocks – sometimes piss soaked – would stay in my mouth for days after they finally let me go. The only thing that I had to wear, again, was the jock that they had used to gag me. Once they used rope to mind my legs, wrists and ankles; gagged me with a particularly rancid jock; and left me locked-up all night. In the morning they untied me and I pulled on an old pair of football pants that I found in the storage room – the kids were all in school and there was no way that I was going to walk around in that jock (although I did wear it under the pants.)
I never thought that I acted like I was gay. I dated girls from time to time to head off any rumors. I was teased enough; I didn’t need to add fuel to the fire. I was in OK shape – I did try to work out at home and I ran a little. I just wasn’t any good at sports. The jocks, however, seemed to know that I was gay – and did everything they could to humiliate me.
So when I reached college I was ready to make a fresh start. Far from the jocks that had made my life miserable, I was able to relax. Most of the football team ended up going to a small state college not far from our hometown. They weren’t good enough to make the team at any of the larger schools; but they were pretty much able to stay together and keep their dreams going. I’m sure their attitudes never changed – in their minds they were the hottest jocks in the world – and I’m sure they found some other miserable soul to harass.
My roommate in the dorms was a sophomore and friendly – he knew right away that I was gay – although he was straight (apparently, I was more obvious than I thought.) He was from a small town not far from mine. He played football in school and was in the same conference as we were, so he knew a lot of the guys on the team from my school. That made me nervous, but unlike them, he decided to pursue academics rather than football. After a while I was comfortable enough with him to share my hazing stories with him – the emotion of being humiliated like that seeped through. He seemed to be sympathetic, but I could tell that he probably did the same to guys at his school.
Money was tight so I needed a job to help pay for school. My folks were gone and I had been living with a drunken Uncle for over ten years. He was always broke and couldn’t care less if I lived or died. No matter what happened I wouldn’t be going back there. But I had waited too long to apply for any of the “normal” on campus jobs and there wasn’t much left to choose from. My roommate told me that the athletic director always needed guys to help out around the practice fields and locker rooms. He had worked there last year and said it wasn’t too bad. It paid better than dishwashing or working in the library, but he said it certainly wasn’t glamorous. He said that he’d put in a good word for me if I wanted. Although working with a bunch of jocks was actually my worst nightmare, the money was really good and I really needed a job.
I met with the equipment manager the next day and took the job. It would be primarily with the football team – fate has a way of being very cruel at times. It involved setting up the practice gear, making sure all their pads, helmets, and other gear was clean and ready every day and straightening up the locker rooms after practice. The pay was pretty high as it was a lot of work – but there were a lot of hours available – which meant that I would have enough money to cover my expenses. There would be opportunities to travel with the team to away games to handle the equipment and the hourly rate for that was even higher.
A few weeks into the year and I was settling in. Classes were going good, I had met a few guys, and the job wasn’t as bad as I had thought it would be. Although I won’t say that I actually loved it, there was something about the gear – all the sweaty guys – that was appealing and strangely intoxicating. Pulling the pads out of their sweat-soaked pants, wiping down the shoulder pads that were ripe with their man scent and just being in the locker room as they showered started to really turn me on. I was even starting to fantasize about it when I wasn’t working.
I asked for more hours and they were glad to give them to me as they were always a little shorthanded. My roommate was friends with a lot of the players so he would stop by the locker room from time to time just to chat with the guys. None of the players paid any attention to me except to yell for another towel or complain that their gear wasn’t clean enough. I was just part of the background – some lowly little servant whose sole purpose was to satisfy their needs. When he was with the guys my roommate treated me the same way. I didn’t mind, it gave me ample opportunity to scope out their naked bodies and take in all the manly odors in the room. They never acknowledged me if they passed me on the way to class. I’m sure that none of them even knew my name.
I started to jack off while I was cleaning their smelly gear and snagged a few of their ripe jockstraps and cups – I would sneak them out and kept them in a drawer in my room. In time, I was regularly jacking off while wearing a pair of their sweat soaked football pants. I even started wearing the used jockstraps instead of regular underwear. I was never happier than when I was surrounded by their well-used gear. The equipment room almost became a second home to me and I spent as much time in there as I could – the staff didn’t mind as I was doing the work of at least two guys when it came down to it. Even though I was getting off, I always was working when I was there.
One day my roommate was sitting on my bed when I came back from class with a weird grin on his face. When I asked him what was up he reached behind him and held up one of the jocks that I had swiped. It was obvious it was one of the team’s, as it had the player’s number and the guy’s name written on it. I tried to stammer out some explanation but he just kept grinning as he tossed the whole pile of them on the floor at my feet. Even I was slightly surprised at how many of them there were – I had never really counted them, just shoved them under some clothes in the drawer in my half of the closet.
“Quite the little hobby you have.” He said as I stood their turning red with embarrassment. “I guess everybody’s got their thing, huh?” I didn’t answer – what could I really say? The proof was right there and I was wearing another one at that moment, as well.
“Don’t worry. I really don’t care what you’re into. I was hoping that you had a school t-shirt that I could wear to the game tonight, mine are all dirty, when I found this little treasure trove. I’d apologize for digging through your stuff, but I don’t think it really matters.” With that he tossed another jock to me. “Here have one of mine, too. It hasn’t been washed. It appears that you like them that way.”
I grabbed it before it hit the floor out of reflex and sat down hard on the bed. I was humiliated. I immediately started to think about what I would do for money – I had to quit the job. There was no way that I could face going back there after the team found out about this. As if reading my mind he said, “Don’t worry – really. I won’t say a word to anybody about this. You’ll have to forgive me, though, because I am going to have to give you shit about it from time to time. It’s really just too much to let go without a bit of fun! But it’ll always be between you and me, OK?”
Hopeful that he was telling the truth I said, “Yeah, sure. Thanks. I guess I do deserve a little bit of teasing for this. I’m embarrassed as hell, though!”
“Well, I guess you would be.” He said. “Anyway, do you have a shirt that I can wear to the game tonight? I got a little distracted when I found all of those in the drawer.” He grinned a time again, and I relaxed a little. He was a good guy, after all. I found a t-shirt for him and he changed before heading out to the game.
I was nervous the next time I went to work but nothing had changed. No one looked at me weird or said anything. After a few days I pretty much forgot about it. My roommate then started to place one of the jocks from “my collection” on my desk chair every few days. It was his little joke, but I always wore the one that he set out until he put out the next one.
The team had been playing well and they were set for a road game on the coming Saturday. It would be the final game before the playoffs, so they were stoked. I had never gone with the team on the road, but one of the other equipment guys was sick so they asked if I could help out this time. I said I could and we started getting everything ready. The team would have one last practice on Friday night. It would be a pretty hard one as the coach wanted them worked up for the coming game. We would be working late getting all the gear cleaned up and packed away for the trip on Saturday. I was looking forward to spending several hours in the equipment room – I was ready to jack off and there would be ample opportunity with all that sweaty gear. As practice wrapped up and the guys headed to the showers I piled the gear and got it ready for cleaning. Some of the guys seemed to be flexing for me and showing off their bodies as I was passing out towels. It must have been my imagination.
Once they were gone I headed to the equipment room. Several of the other guys would be cleaning the locker room and loading the other equipment on the truck; so I had at least an hour alone before they would join me. I didn’t waste any time. I stripped immediately down to only the jock and pulled on a pair of the sweatiest pants that I could find – they were soaked. I loved the way they smelled and felt. My dick was hard as hell as I started to clean shoulder pads.
It all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to react at all. The door burst open and they were on top of me – holding me face down on the floor. I couldn’t tell how many of them there were or even who they were. Someone grabbed my hair and pulled my head up hard. I tried to struggle but they were shoving something into my mouth – which I realized was a ripe jockstrap.
“Since you like them so much, we thought you’d like to suck on one for a while.” It took me a minute to recognize the voice as my roommate. I was crestfallen. I thought that I could trust him. I should have known that he would stick with his other jock buddies – it was too much for him not to share it with them for a laugh. I resigned myself to a little more humiliation. They would have their fun and it would be over soon enough. I was wrong.
They quickly covered my mouth with athletic tape – wrapping it tightly around my head so there was no hope of spitting out the jockstrap that was now acting as a very effective gag. My ankles were pulled together and wrapped with the tape – as were my wrists after they pulled my arms behind my back. Not satisfied, they also taped my legs just above my knees. The tape was tight and there was no way that I was going to be able to struggle out of it. The room went dark as they pulled some type of canvas bag over my head and taped it tightly around my neck. By the smell of it I guessed that it was one of the laundry bags we used to carry all of their sweaty clothes after a practice. I was then picked up and stuffed unceremoniously into one of the larger equipment duffels which was tied tightly shut.
“That’ll hold the little faggot.” One of them said. “Maybe we should have fucked him before we tied him up.” I cringed at that. Would they really rape me, or was it just something to scare the hell out me?
One of the other guys said, “We don’t have time. Get him into the truck with the gear. We can play with him later.” With that I was lifted up and carried out of the room. Although I knew how far the truck was from the locker room, it seemed like it took forever to get there. They tossed me onto the floor of the trailer, climbed up, and carried me towards the front. I was dropped on a pile of other gear bags and was then covered with a few more. “Make even one fucking sound, queer boy, and you have no idea how much hurt I’ll lay on you.” One of them growled. “We’ll see you after the game tomorrow. Sleep tight!”
I heard them walk away and then the doors of the trailer were slammed shut. It rang in my ears for quite a while as I tried to figure out what had just happened. I was pissed that my roommate had told them about the jockstraps. He had really fooled me into thinking that he didn’t really care – what an idiot I was. I wonder how long he had been planning this and then I started to panic. Would they really leave me like this until after the game? That was almost 24 hours from now. There was no way that I could stay bound-up that long. It was already uncomfortable as hell and it had been only a few minutes. The tape was biting into my face and wrists and I couldn’t move much at all – the other gear bags were pinning me down. I was really screwed. Assholes! It was like high School all over again. Why are these guys always such pricks?
Sometime later the doors on the semi were opened again. The other equipment guys would be loading the rest of the gear. I was relieved. They would be bringing gear up to the front where I was. Hopefully, I would be able to grunt and groan loud enough and move around enough so that they would find me and release me. I heard footsteps coming closer and was just about to groan when one of them said, “It’s sure nice of you guys to help out. The team has never done that before.” I recognized the voice of one of my coworkers; but the team was helping load the truck? The bastards were going to make sure that I was stuck here, weren’t they?
“Glad to do it. You guys work hard and we never thank you for that. We thought we should help to make this go quick for you so we can all get to bed early tonight – big game tomorrow!” It was the same guy who had threatened me to keep quiet before. Damn it – they really did intend to keep me bound like this all night. I was tempted to start groaning anyway when I heard him say in a loud whisper. “Hope you’re comfortable little faggot. Don’t even think about trying to make a peep. I guarantee that you will regret it if you do.” Then he dropped another bag of equipment on top of me. I was buried in a mound of football gear and hardly able to breathe, let alone move.
They loaded the rest of the equipment quickly and the doors were again slammed shut. Tears ran down my face as I realized that I was stuck like this at least until they arrived at the other stadium tomorrow afternoon. I tried to find a more comfortable position but wasn’t able to move enough to make even a little bit of a difference. Apparently, I was going to be punished, harshly, by them. It made being stuck in a locker for an afternoon seem appealing.
I may have nodded off for a few minutes here and there. I was miserable and the discomfort was turning to pain as the night wore on. Eventually I heard voices outside the truck and then it roared to life. I must have been very close to the front of the trailer because the diesel engine of the cab was really loud. The truck jerked forward and made its way toward the highway. I knew that it was a five hour drive and the truck was scheduled to leave at 7:00 am to allow plenty of time to set-up for the game at 6:00 that night. If everything was going to schedule, I had been stuffed in this bag for almost 12 hours. And, if they meant what they said, I wouldn’t be let out until after 10:00 pm tonight. I started to sob again. I would be trussed up like this for another 15 hours. I was already thirsty and I had pissed myself overnight. The jock in my mouth was holding my jaws apart and it had long passed being just uncomfortable. My only hope was that the equipment guys would find me when they arrived at the stadium. I couldn’t imagine the football players finding an excuse to help unload. But I had been proven wrong at every turn so far.
The ride was rough and noisy. I had nothing to do but wonder what they had planned for me when they finally let me out of this bag. Most of the scenarios that I imagined were not pleasant. Why was it such a big deal to them and why did they feel the need to punish me so brutally? I couldn’t fathom it at all.
Eventually the truck slowed and I heard the back-up warning bells. We were obviously pulling into the loading dock area of the stadium. My heart held on to the small hope that I would soon be able to get out of this predicament. The trailer doors were opened and I heard voices and the sound of the larger pieces of equipment and cases being removed. Slowly they made their way towards the front and I heard the equipment guys chatting. “I can’t believe our guys arranged for this other team to help unload. I’m not complaining, mind you, it is taking half the time it usually does and they seem like decent guys. It’s good that they came to support our guys, though!”
My heart sank. Did this other team know about me? Was that why they were helping? I couldn’t imagine any another reason. I assumed that they would find a way to get to me before the equipment guys and store me somewhere until after the game. I was proven correct. Before I knew it I was being manhandled and I knew by the voices it wasn’t my coworkers. I was doomed to suffer like this for the duration. One of them said. “The bag is soaked with piss. It reeks. I’ll be damned if he isn’t gonna suffer for this, too.”
The other voice was a little more sympathetic. “What do you expect? He’s been tied up in there since 6:00 or 7:00 last night. You’d have to piss, too!”
“Whatever. Doesn’t mean I like smelling like piss.”
It was a long walk to wherever they were taking me. When we stopped I was set on my feet and one of them steadied me. The next sound that I heard was familiar to me – it was a locker door opening. They lifted me and shoved me inside. It was a tight fit but they managed to shut the door. I cringed as the padlock was snapped shut. “Enjoy your stay at the locker room hotel, little faggot. Oughta bring back some memories, huh?”
Oh, shit. I had thought that voice was vaguely familiar and now I knew who it was. It was one of the idiot football players from the high school team. What the hell was going on? Then I remembered – my roommate was buddies with those guys from when they played against each other at conference games. Why would he want these guys involved in whatever they were planning to do to me? I was scared before – now I was getting terrified. These guys were total assholes and, although it had been almost a year since we graduated, I’m sure they didn’t mature at all, but what did they give a shit about me for?
I heard them walk away laughing. Although it was tight quarters I was able to move around more than while buried under all that equipment. It was easier to breathe and the change of position was slightly more comfortable. I knew that this would become painful soon enough. But, for now at least, it was a little better.
I would have jumped if I could – the rush of noise was so sudden. It took me a minute to figure out that the team was running into the locker room to get suited up for the game. They were raucous and loud. I’m not sure how long I had been in the locker, but it must be about 4:00 or so. They always suited up for some quick drills and warm-ups before the game. They settled down while the coach gave them the game plan and as they left for the warm-ups several of them pounded hard on the locker door. It was still ringing in my ears as the locker room fell silent.
They were still excited and loud after the game. They had won and were headed for the playoffs. They were taking off their gear and showering – and, to my horror, my dick was getting hard just thinking about it. I was bound, hooded, stuffed in an equipment bag and locked in a locker and still my dick was hard! The sweat smell of the canvas bag over my head and the funky taste of the jock filling my mouth suddenly became exciting to me. I tried to rub my erect dick against the bag or the locker but couldn’t maneuver enough to do so. Now I was horny and frustrated.
Eventually it quieted down. The players were leaving the locker room and the equipment guys were cleaning and packing up. It didn’t take long and it was completely silent in the room. My heart began to race. Either I was going to be left in here until someone found me or, worse in my mind, some of the team – both teams – would be back to complete their punishment. It didn’t take long for the latter to become reality. The lock was removed, the door opened, and I was dumped on the floor. The bag was untied and roughly pulled off. Then they removed the canvas hood. They left the gag in place, as well as, the tape on my wrists, knees and ankles.
I was forced to my knees squinting in the harsh light surrounded by 10 or 12 guys – all of whom I recognized. They seemed to be evenly split between the old high school team and the college team. My roommate was also there. “Welcome to your new life, fag boy!” One of the college team guys said. “You were always ogling us so much it was obvious you wanted something. That little jockstrap fetish thing just verified it. So we decided to give it to you. We need to relax and get some release after the game – and you are the perfect one to provide it!” I was trembling – they were going to rape me! I had never had anal sex and now I was going to experience in the harshest way.
“This is what’s gonna happen. You are going to service each of us now. And you might as well get used to it because this will be your only purpose from now on.” With that they ripped off the tape holding the jock in my mouth and before I could even work the kinks out of my jaw the team captain stuck his dick in my mouth. “Make me happy!” Then he started to face fuck me until he came in my mouth. They were all laughing as one by one they followed. I was gagging and choking, but they didn’t stop. My roommate was last. He was the worst of them – banging away the hardest and taking his time in cumming.
When he was done I dropped to the floor still choking with cum dripping out of my mouth onto the tile floor. I felt something warm on my back and smelled piss. One of the guys from the old high school team was pissing on me! “I told you that I would make you pay for making me smell like piss, you frickin’ queer!” I was done – humiliated – in pain and I was crying openly. They laughed.
Finally they freed my wrists and ankles and dragged me into the showers. They made me strip out of the pissed soaked pair of football pants and the jock that I had been wearing. They turned on the cold water and pushed me under it. I was finally able to drink some water. They left me there for quite a while. The circulation was returning to my arms and legs and I was able to rinse the taste of the rancid jock and their cum out of my mouth. It felt great but was over too soon. They half dragged me out to the locker room and shoved me to my knees again. They were all joking and laughing as they pretended to decide what to do with me. I thought that they were finally going to release me – having had their fun by torturing me. I was wrong, again.
One of the guys from the high school team pulled a large duffel out of one of the lockers and dumped it out. He tossed me a hard cup jock and told me to put it on. As I pulled it on I noticed that it was filthy – cum stained and I could smell its raunch. Then he tossed a pair of old pants from our high school team – they were stained and smelled of old sweat. I pulled them on and laced them – they were tight and pushed the cup hard against my dick. “Since it seemed that you always wanted to be part of the team, we thought you should have your own uniform. You’ll be playing the only position on the field that suits you – cocksucker! You’ll only need to remember one play – a little queer boy like you can handle that, I think.” Shoulder pads and a jersey followed. Both smelling of sweat and worn from use. They buckled the pads on and pulled the straps tight. Then they tugged the jersey on. Finally there was an old pair of cleats – no socks. For some reason wearing some guy’s worn and stinky shoes made me queasy – hard to believe after what I had just been through – but I pushed my feet into them (what choice did I have?) When I was suited up, I was pushed back to my knees – they shoved a mouth guard in and taped it in place – making it impossible for me to speak. Then they put a helmet on – it, too, reeked of years of use – and strapped it tightly under my chin.
The captain of the college team then said. “Faggot, we’ve decided to give you to our buddies here – a gift from our team to theirs. We’ve made it to the playoffs but they are struggling a little bit in their conference. We figure that they can use you to release some of their frustrations and improve their game. Besides they already know you so well!” Giving me to them – what like slavery? I was horrified – I hated those guys and I knew that I was in for a living hell.
“Better get nice and comfortable in that uniform,” It was one of the old high school guys. “It’s the only thing you’ll ever be wearing from now on. It’s already nice and ripe – just like you wanted it! We’ve also got a nice big locker to store you in. You’ll get to spend lots of time locked-up in there. We all know how much your little faggoty ass loves that!”
Another one of the old high school team said. “Oh, we’ll use the shit out of you, queer boy, don’t worry about that. You won’t lack for any attention. Get him ready.” They pulled me to my feet and tightly re-wrapped my ankles and wrists with the tape (at least they didn’t pull my arms behind my back this time.) They then shoved me into a large equipment duffel; it was a tight squeeze with the shoulder pads, but they managed to get me in it after some rough handling. I could smell the sweat and years of use from the uniform and pads that I was wearing. The duffle smelled of must and sweat, too. Even though I knew that my life was going to be nothing but servitude to these assholes, my dick still struggled to get hard within the cup.
They grabbed the duffel and dragged me across the floor. Eventually, they lifted me up and dropped me hard – the last thing that I heard before blacking out from exhaustion was the sound of a car’s trunk being slammed shut over my head.
NOTE: This story will continue in “Locker Room Tales – It’s What I Need”