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Coach Al Timmins liked these days of the year best of all. He enjoyed surveying the locker room on the day when the wrestling team had their quarterly physicals. It was his idea to change the annual physical examinations to 4 times a year, the guys needed to be stripped and checked out more than one time a year. He enjoyed watching them through the doorway to the locker room as his guys stood on formation heel-to-toe, buck naked, nervous and embarrassed as his team doctor and the doctor's female assistant put each guy through their paces. He was really proud of this year's crop of guys. He had worked them harder than ever, keeping them late, running them too long, making them practice over and over again, watching their legs wrapped around each other's necks for hours each day. He especially enjoyed the holds he would force upon them. The guys, usually wearing little more than shorts and a supporter, with their asses jammed into their opponent's faces, making them inhale the other guy's scents. That incredible scent of young ball bag sweat, ass aroma, and underarm musk. He had smelled it on their tight jockstraps, lying in a pile on the laundry floor. Each strap had their team number written on the front of each pouch and their name's written on the waistband. They belonged to each guy and were washed only once a month, causing them to be caked with sweat and even some precum, which leaked from their tools. He liked collecting them from the guys, in another of his "military" ways, making them pull them down while standing in front of their lockers and waiting until each guy was bareassed before they could shower. The locker room was particularly nasty in odor on those days. You could smell the reek from down the hall, and the other student would mock each guy for having sweaty low hangers. The coach really liked hearing the young dudes get ranked on by their peers for having big dumb jock cocks. Especially hearing the young twin members of his squad getting picked on. Timmy and Joey played on his team for years and they grown up into beautiful young models of manhood. They were precisely the polar opposite of the coach. While the guys were short and smooth, Timmins was tall and furry. A Marine in his youth, he was still incredible shape, massive hairy pecs, tattooed heavily up and down each arm, and with strong legs like a bull. He was most proud of his huge biceps which he would use in training these guys, holding them down on the ground, helpless and nearly naked, exposed for the other team members to laugh at and taunt. Between his legs held a spot for his other pride and joy: his big ugly uncut horse cock. His dick was truly a Marine prick. Fat like a sausage with over 3 inches of foreskin hanging like a nasty hood over the oversized mushroom, that he called its "head". The head always hurt his girlfriends, jamming it into their tight boxes, ripping them and then fucking their even tighter asses. He enjoyed, much more, using his massive dong on young dudes with round smooth asses and their pink holes. He loved eating out a tight, muscular rear, clean shaven by his own hand, and opening up slowly like a virgin cunt. Then abusing that cunt throughout the entire term. He always made sure that his "boys" were over the age of consent, no trouble for him! But he always picked the youngest looking dudes. Usually he selected blonde guys who were fortunate enough to be smooth on their chests, and uncircumcised down below. Coach Timmins liked his young wards to be well endowed also, a big dumb shlong hanging off a small waisted boy was the hottest thought he could have. He was a pro at picking the guys who he would use for his own pleasure, then videotaping their "first time" and using it as blackmail for years to come. He liked watching their faces as he would play the tape and seeing their young spirits crushed, their mouths gaping open, often crying and begging. He would laugh at them as they pleaded for the tapes, promising anything. He would rewind and play it over.and over.and over. Eventually the guys would see exactly who "owned" them. They had become property of the rough and demanding ex-Marine, for use and abuse as he saw fit. Sometimes he saw to it that they "entertained" his friends from the Corps or his poker buddies. Only hours before they believed that maybe they had made a mistake by jerking off in front of the coach and sucking his cock, now they would pay for that mistake for years. Only hours before, they had girlfriends and dates, now all of those people became history. He would make them break up with the young ladies over the phone from his house, while he stood in the background snickering and plotting the boys' futures. There was no turning back for them; they had officially become prize "meat", or his "mules", as he liked to call them. If they were stupid enough to believe that would have to just suck his cock, they were mistaken! Sex was only the beginning! There were hours and days of forced nudity and more than 100 forms of humiliation, which he had devised. He liked having a guy wear a small uniform (usually from the Army Navy Store) and parade around the house for him and often his guests. The buttons pulling on their broad chests, exposing tan flesh, and their crotches too big to fit in the small pants. The pants were sometimes 3 sizes too tight, and often exposed the top of their pubic hair and the bases of their cocks. He would make them remove the shirts as the day wore on, a relief because of the itching their small defenseless nipples. Then he would make them get on all fours and balance drinks and ashtrays on their broad backs, sometimes crawling around the room full of older men and women. Then he would remove their pants, exposing shaven crotches and oversized tools, tied up with a cockring or rope, forcing their dorks to stand out and turn purple in color. The women guests would giggle at these naked young jocks with their large "privates" jutting out of smooth muscular waists, their low hanging nuts swollen with cum, their nipples erect and well chewed; usually painted with rouge to make them look more raw. The men would drool and lick their lips looking at the young firm asses, fresh from repeated enemas, waiting to be raped over and over until their holes leaked the cum of several guests. He usually kept each guy for a year, and then passed him on. By then he would have weeks worth of videos of them being trained as dogs and used as whores, and they would never tell anyone. The coach had become their master, and as a master could do, he would sell their pictures to gay porn magazines. He loved watching their young faces in shock as he showed them their pictures gracing DRUMMER, BLUEBOY and alike. By then, they couldn't get hardons for girls anymore. The responded sexually only when a nasty rough older man stood over them, with a whip. Troy was his guy last year. He was a dead ringer for Joey Lawrence. With long hair, built like a brick shithouse, all muscles and cock. He was as dumb as a stump, and the coach felt that he was made for a life of servitude. Troy was used and abused more than any of his young men. The poor punk had served his "parties" well. He enjoyed forcing him to wear see through teddies and see-through panties, with his oversized dong black and blue from being bit and yanked on continually. When Troy's father had accidentally seen his son with the word "slave" written on his chest, he threw the guy out of the house bareassed naked, forcing the youth to run a mile naked to the coach's house. His fate was sealed! Two moths later, the coach put the guy in the back of a U-Haul and drove him to West Virginia. A friend of the coach's ran a livestock auction there by day, and the guy was put up on the block late in the night and sold as an animal. His new owner took him to Tennessee and he had begun his new life pulling a plow and servicing his master's family of 6 guys and 4 girls. He was a well-used sex animal before he was sold again overseas to a prison. But for now, the coach just looked and watched. He had picked the strong twins as his new guys. They both had steady girlfriends, excellent grades and were in bodybuilding training. All of these things would soon end, and today was the beginning. The doctor was examining the twins now. Grabbing their nuts with both hands and making them cough in unison. He grabbed them too hard and slyly looked at the coach winking. The boys' faces scrunched up as they felt the pain. The doctor motioned for the female nurse to lift Joey's cock up and out of the way. She grabbed it by his ample foreskin, slipping her fingernail inside the hood and hanging onto it. Joey's cock immediately began to fill up and was soon sticking out on its own. He looked at his friend in terror and humiliation. The nurse let go and his dick remained in the air on it's own. His long foreskin peeled back and exposed a round purple head. The team started laughing at him and even his friend joined in the taunting. The coach called for silence and told the guys to get dressed and leave the locker room immediately. As always, the guys complied. By the time the last guy dressed and the doctor left, only the twins remained naked and ashamed. Coach Timmins locked the door to the locker room and walked slowly toward the guys. They reached for their backpacks, assuming that they could shower now and leave. "Don't even think about it.," the coach yelled. "Yessir" they responded in unison, as twins often do. ""What's with getting a bone in front of everyone?" he demanded. Joey looked at the floor, his dong still fat and thick, with precum leaking out of the foreskin, from the hardon earlier. "You have to learn to control that ugly thing" he screamed. He walked past it and whacked it with his clipboard, making it swing back and forth with the cum spilling out and hitting the floor. The guys shifted nervously back and forth. "Can we get dressed coach?" they asked. "Our dad is coming soon to pick us up and he gets mad when were late" Timmy pleaded. "He's not coming yet" the coach replied. "Tonight you 2 belong to me." They looked at the large man, scared to death. "Get in the showers" he shouted. They walked into the open navy-style shower room. "Get under one nozzle" he yelled in to them. This forced them to stand with their dicks touching. He walked into showers naked and hard, he short fat cock standing out, and his hairy chest broad and heavily tattooed. "Now wash each other" he demanded. The looked up in hesitation and he smacked Joey across the face, they got the message. The water turned on hot and they began soaping each other's bodies. He loved to watch their big jock hands running over each other's bodies. They soon had soap-covered pecs and stomachs. The water ran down to their cocks, dripping off of them. They proceeded to wash each other hair and backs. Finally he made them wash each other's dongs. They both got hard instantly, identical 8-inch young dicks sticking up and out. "Now suck your friend.," he shouted. Timmy began to cry and fell to his knees putting his friend's uncut dong into his mouth and began to suck. At that exact moment, the coach took his belt off and prepared for the beginning of the worst. He reared his arm back, and swung the belt forward cracking the standing guy clean across his white bubble butt. By the end of the fifth swing, his ass went from pure smooth white to a streaked red. The punks dick was having a hard time standing up and his friend sucked fervently, trying to keep it hard. Tears began rolling down his young face, "P-UH-LEEEEASE" he begged. 'YOU'RE KILLING MEEEEEEEE!" He had no idea that his once creamy rear was now welted with repeated whippings. "Now we're cooking," the coach announced. Joey's audible cries were echoed through the shower room. His friend knew what was going to happen next. "Get up Tim" the coach demanded. Timmy stood apprehensively, catching a glimpse of his friend's ass and gasping. It looked like raw veal, striped and bleeding. He didn't bother to cover his own rear, as he knew the coach would give it to him. He spread his muscular thighs, his balls swinging between his legs, a perfect target for the coach's belt. "Hands above your head, BOY!" the coach bellowed. Timmy raised his arms, exposing almost hairless pits, the coach swung back and the belt whipped his thighs, one, two, three times. His dong got caught in the crossfire, being whipped itself. The head now streaked with welts. His screams now filled the locker room. At that moment, Coach Timmins knew that these guys would forever belong to him, and his hidden shower-cam would seal the deal.

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