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A jock bully becomes a gay slave!

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Settling the Score

Part 1: The Favor


Josh Hunter

© 2016

I was grabbing my books for history class when Wade Johnson came over and leaned against my locker. That could only mean trouble.

“Hey Kevin,” he said, like we were friends.


I looked around for his minions. Wade always traveled with a posse of other football players. They were all like nineteen and twenty years old, and should have been in college by now. But in Texas, anybody who can throw a football gets held back a grade, so that they’ll be bigger and stronger in their senior year.

Being able to pick on everybody else in the school is just an added bonus.

For once, though, Wade seemed to be alone. No sign of his goon squad.

He leaned in close to me.

“Look Kev, I need you to write an English paper for me.”

So that was it.

“Forget it,” I said.

Wade looked confused. He was used to people doing anything he asked.

“Awe, come on,” he said, putting an arm around me like we were old buddies. “I’ll owe you one.”

“Fuck off, Wade. Get one of your football cronies to do it.”

Wade rolled his eyes.

“I had Dwayne write my last paper. I got a fucking D- on it.”

“Actually, Dwayne got the D-,” I pointed out. “You just took the credit for it.”

“Whatever. Now I’ve got to get an A- on this one or I get suspended from the team.”

I laughed.

“Yeah right,” I said. “Like the school would ever let that happen.”

Wade shook his head.

“This new English teacher Pendergrass has it in for me. I think he’d really flunk me.”


Wade had a point. I liked Mr. Pendergrass. He was probably the only teacher with the guts to fail a football player. Of course the school would fire him for it afterwards. This is Texas.

“And why would I want to help you?” I asked.

“Because . . . you know . . .. school pride,” Wade said. 

And then he turned on that thousand-watt smile. The smile that gets him anything he wants around this school. Well, that and the curly brown hair and the blue eyes and the body straight out of an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. And I guess the football thing, too. I could never understand why people get so excited about the fact that Wade can throw a stupid ball so far.

I looked right into that dazzling smile and told him to fuck off.

“Hey, don’t be a fag!” Wade blurted out.

“That!” I said, slamming my locker closed. “That right there is why I don’t want to help you. You’ve been calling me a fag since ninth grade.”

“Jeez, sorry. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

I turned to go, but Wade grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me back towards him.

“Okay, okay! I’ll stop calling you a fag. But I need you to do this. You’re smart. You could write a paper the way I would. Only, you know, good.”

“Yeah, I could write ‘good’ if I wanted to.”

“So do it!” Wade said. “If I don’t play football this season, I’m screwed. No scholarship. No college. I’m dead meat.”

I wanted to tell him to fuck off again. But I kind of enjoyed having Wade beg.

“Come on dude,” he pleaded. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” I asked.

“Yeah. Get you invited to parties. Introduce you to cheerleaders.”

He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in close.

“I’ll even tell my girlfriend to blow you.”

Hm. Apparently, Wade’s definition of “anything” was a little different than mine. But it would be fun to make him squirm a little.

“Okay,” I said. “Come over to my house at eight. I’ll help you write something that will pass muster with Pendergrass.”

“Cool! You rock dude!”

He pointed his fingers at me like a pair of pistols, then turned and walked off.

I watched him go, thinking about all the crap that he’d pulled with me over the last few years.

It was time for Captain Cool to learn about payback.



*   *   *



Wade was late. It was 8:45 by the time he finally knocked on my front door.

“Hey,” he said, without bothering to explain.

“Hi, Wade.”

He stepped inside and looked around. 

“Uh . . . where’s your mom and dad?”

“Dad hasn’t been around for years. My mom works nights. Did you bring your book?”

“Yeah,” he reached into the pocket of his varsity jacket and pulled out a worn paperback.

“Brave New World,” he said, handing it to me. “I picked it because there’s supposed to be lots of sex and stuff.”

Great. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Come on,” I said. “My computer’s back in my room.”

He followed me down the hall.

“Could I get a beer?” he asked.

I turned and looked at him.

“Sure. My mom totally keeps the fridge stocked with beer for her underage son.”

Wade’s face brightened.

“Great! What kind?”

“That was sarcasm,” I explained.

“Oh . . .” he said. “So no beer?”

“No beer.”

We went back to my room and I sat down at my desk. Wade walked around, looking at the movie posters on my wall while I leafed through the book, reminding myself how it went.

“So how do we do this?” Wade asked.

“Well, for starters, tell me what you thought of the book.”

“Uh . . .”

“And take your shirt off.”


Wade looked confused. 

“I’m gonna help you with this, I should at least enjoy the view while I work.”

A look of panic came into his eyes.

“Fuck! You really are a fag?”

“You’ve been calling me once since ninth grade.”

“Yeah, but that was just . . . you know.”

Wade was freaking out. For a moment I thought he might beat me up. Football player, gay boy. In Texas, nobody would even blink. But Wade seemed more confused than angry.

“You’re really . . .?”

“Yeah. So you gonna lose that shirt now, or what?”

“Dude . . . I… I gotta go.”

Wade headed for the bedroom door.

“Suit yourself,” I said. “Paper is due tomorrow, right?”

Wade paused with his hand on the knob.

“I’m sure you can write an A paper on your own,” I told him. “And even if you can’t, it’s only football. Right?”

Wade slowly turned back to me. He tried the smile again.

“Dude, you gotta help me with this,” he begged.

“Dude, I don’t even like you.”

“Come on. I really need this!”

“So take off your shirt already.”

He stood there, his face turning red.

“Come on,” I told him. “You do it all the time in gym class.”

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I guess.”

He slowly took off his varsity jacket and put it on my bed. Then he finally pulled off his T-shirt. He stood there, nervously holding it.

I gave him a wolf whistle. The boy really did have one hell of a body.

His face turned a deeper shade of red.

“Stop looking at me that way.”

“I’ll look at you any damn way I want to. Now tell me what you remember from the book.”

He sat down on my bed, still holding his shirt. Eventually, I got him to explain the book’s theme and some of the basic plot.

“Hey, this isn’t so hard,” he said, warming up to the work.

“Yep,” I agreed. “Now we just need to put it all in an outline.”


“And you can take off your jeans now.”

Wade laughed nervously.

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it. Strip down to your underwear.”

“Awe, come on Kevin.”

“What’s the problem? Guys see you in your underwear in the locker room all the time.”

“Yeah, but they don’t look at me the way you do.”

“And they’re also not writing your fucking term paper for you. So lose the jeans.”

Wade looked around nervously.

“You want this paper?” I asked.

Wade stood up and slowly fumbled with his belt buckle.

“You won’t tell anybody about this?” he asked.

“Yeah, Wade. I’m gonna go around advertising the fact that I’m gay so that your football jerk friends will beat me to a pulp.”

“This is so fucked up,” Wade muttered.

He kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt. But then he seemed to lose his nerve.

“Now, Wade.” I barked at him.

He unzipped his fly and slowly shucked off his jeans. Tighty whities. Figures.

He sat down on my bed, holding his hands in front of his crotch.

“Can we get on with this?” he asked.

“Sure thing, stud. First paragraph is going to be your thesis.”

I walked him through the outline. Basic stuff. Thesis. Five supporting arguments. Conclusion. Crap I could do it in my sleep.

Wade started to relax again. He leaned back on my bed and let his legs spread apart. I could see the outline of his cock in his underwear.

Wade caught me staring.

“You really like looking at that?”

“Yep,” I admitted. “Same way you like looking at pussy.”

And I think Wade liked being looked at, too. Because the bulge in his underwear was getting bigger.

“How big are you?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug.

“Bullshit,” I said. “You know.”

“Well, I’m not telling you.”

He sat up and put his hands back in front of his crotch.

“Can I put my pants back on now?”

“Sure, if you want to finish this paper on your own.”

“Fuck. Okay. What’s next?”

“The rough draft.”

“Okay. How do we do that?”

“First off, you can turn around. I want to look at your butt for a while.”

“Jesus, Kevin!”

“After all the grief you’ve given me in the last three years, I’m entitled to a little payback.”

Wade grumbled. But he couldn’t see any way out of it. Reluctantly, he laid down on his stomach. The round curve of his ass showing nicely through the underwear.

“Just don’t try to fucking touch me,” he said.

“Yeah. ‘Cause I could totally overpower you and have my way.”

Wade laughed at that. He was four inches taller than me, with at least fifty pounds more muscle. It was kind of silly for him to be scared of me.

“You really get off on staring at my butt?” he asked.

“Hell yeah.”

“Okay, just finish the damn paper.”

I talked him through the next few paragraphs, but it was getting hard to concentrate. Looking at that tanned muscular body in my bed. Thinking about all the things I wanted to do to him. Trying to figure out just how far I could push Wade before he’d clobber me.

I pushed my chair back from my desk.

“Okay, I’m bored again,” I said. “Pull down your underwear. I want to see some more of your ass.”


Wade grumbled, but he’d lost enough arguments with me to know how this was going to play out. He slid his underwear down a couple of inches, showing me the crack of his butt.


“Not yet,” I said.

I walked over to the bed and slapped him hard on the ass.

“Ow! What the fuck was that for?”

“That was for one of the hundred thousand times you’ve called me a queer.”

I grabbed the waistband of his underwear and started pulling it the rest of the way down. Wade grabbed my wrist.

‘Hey! No way Kev!”

“You want this fucking paper?” I said, “I want to see your ass.”

Wade tightened his grip on my wrist. I was gambling that the chance to play football would be more important than keeping some gay guy from seeing his butt. And I was right. Wade cursed and reluctantly let go of my wrist. I pulled his underwear off, sliding it down his legs and then tossing it on the floor.

“This is so fucked up,” Wade muttered again.

“Yeah, well payback is a bitch.”

I sat down at my desk and looked back at him. Wade Johnson naked in my bed. Who would have thought?

“Can we get this done?” Wade asked. 


I went back to work on the paper. But not before I turned my webcam towards the bed and hit record. This was a view that I’d want to savor again.    


I worked for another half hour, finishing up the draft, and glancing back at Wade every so often. He was getting restless.

“How late is it?” he asked, “Are you done?”

“A little after midnight. And no. I’ve got a rough draft. But I’ve still got to make it sound like you. Otherwise, Pendergrass will know that you outsourced it, and we’ll both be dead.”


I leaned back in my chair and stretched. 

“You know, this is gonna take me a while. Roll over so that I can see the rest of you.”

Wade frowned.

“Don’t fuck with me, Kevin.”

“It’s a little late for that. I’ve put in hours of work on your fucking term paper, the least you can do is give me a show.”

“Fuck off.”

“Every guy on your stupid football team has already seen your dick in the shower.”

“That’s different.”

“Yeah. I’ll actually enjoy it.”


“You want a term paper. I want to see your dick. What’s it going to be?”

Wade looked mad enough to punch a hole in a wall, but he was stuck. He grabbed his varsity jacket and held it in front of his crotch as he rolled over to face me.

“Nope,” I said, “No deal.”

“Awe, come on!” Wade pleaded.

“Lose the jacket.”

Wade’s face burned a deep red. Slowly he pulled the jacket away and tossed it on the floor.

No wonder he’d been shy. The boy was semi-hard.

He put his hands in front of it.

“It’s the way you look at me,” he grumbled. “It makes me all nervous.”

“Is that what you call it?”

I reached into my desk drawer and grabbed the little bottle of lotion I keep there. I tossed it to him.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Lube. As long as you’re horny you may as well give me a show.”

“Jeez, Kev.”

“Just close your eyes and think of that hot cheerleader girlfriend of yours.”

He looked at me, wondering if I really meant it.

“Or I could start deleting everything we’ve worked on tonight.” 

I turned back to my computer. 

“Oh look. The last paragraph just got deleted. Now the next to the last paragraph. Now . . ..”

“All right! All right!”

He popped open the bottle of lube, oiled up his dick, and went to work. He laid his head back on my pillow and closed his eyes. I watched him beat his meat for a couple of minutes, but he didn’t seem to get any harder. I guess imagining the girlfriend wasn’t doing it for him.

He opened his eyes and looked at me.

“Uh . . .. you got any porn?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said.

I opened up some on my computer and then moved my chair out of the way so that he had a better view. Wade looked disgusted and turned his head away.

“I mean . . . you know . . . straight porn?”

“I can probably find some.”

It took thirty seconds and a google search to dig up something that cranked his tractor. Blond girls with ridiculously big tits soaping each other up. Wade got rock hard and started working his dick faster and faster. But I noticed that he kept glancing away from the screen to look at me. I think he liked being watched. Feeling my eyes on his body. Some part of him was getting off on it.

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