Jeb crapped out at pool as the room started to spin. A cold sweat signaled that he had crossed the line and, lurching toward the bathroom, he mumbled, ‘Not feeling too good...gotta take a piss.’ The fat guy was right behind him but Jeb hardly noticed. Ignoring the urinals mounted to the graffiti streaked wall the dizzy stud headed for a stall, fumbled with the fly of his jeans and dropped to his knees. Heaving into the toilet he plumbed the depths of watery misery and was both grateful and humiliated when Ricky’s fat arm circled his shuddering torso; his free hand kneading the convulsing muscles of the jock’s broad back through the damp t-shirt...traveling the length of spine to the exposed skin where the t-shirt hiked up, circling the tuft of peach fuzz that disappeared into the white line of boxers with his thumb. ‘It’s ok, dude. Maybe you’ve had enough for the night?’ It wasn’t really a question and the jock was gently pulled from the embrace of the toilet to stand on rubbery legs.

Jeb was walked back to the table where the other guys stared with vague intent and the sheepish young stud struggled against a rising tide of humiliation. He hadn’t puked while drinking in a bar since his twenty first birthday. ‘Man, I’m sorry,’ he said and turned for the door. The small group of impromptu companions rose with him. The last thing Jeb wanted was the further attention of this crowd but, nevertheless, found himself surrounded on the side walk outside. His stomach did another turn and, once again down on his knees, Jeb kissed the rough concrete of a gutter as the oddly soothing fumes of oil-slick asphalt filled his nostrils. ‘Gotta get back to my place,’ he rasped and struggled to remember where he had parked his car. ‘Man, there’s no way you can drive like this,’ a disembodied voice said- and, though Jeb figured somewhere back in his head that he could most likely make it (if he could only remember where he had parked the damn car!), he allowed himself to be guided by a broad hand wrapped around the warm contours behind his neck, down a few strange turns to an old Dodge van. The door grated open like fingernails on a blackboard and Jeb was levered inside. He registered the sting of a rough slap on the taut denim at the seat of his jeans and wondered...but the thought spun sideways as his gut rolled over again. He sighed and squeezed down onto a seat wedged tight by two of the guys sitting on either side.

The young jock was soothed by the vibration of the running engine, but deep in his spinning mind Jeb wondered through half closed eyes how the guys knew where he lived and was vaguely surprised when the van slowly pulled up a drive and stopped. It hadn’t been a long trip- maybe half an hour- but he was already feeling a little better. The rhythm of the road and the warm, steamy comfort of the van’s crowded cab made him sleepy and Jeb dreamily pictured the refuge of his own bed; now mere seconds away. His eyes fluttered open and took in the sight of a strange house and the yawning black maw of an open garage door. They were on the edge of town and there were few other houses in sight. Mild confusion would have turned to concern and maybe even panic in the course of his own muddled reasoning but was vastly accelerated when two pairs of hands grasped his shoulders, jackknifed him forward and twisted his arms painfully behind his back. ‘Wha???!’ Jeb shouted from the muffled depths of his own sweaty crotch where his head was buried. He felt a ring of ice burning his wrists and knew, somehow, that he was cuffed a split second before the metallic snick ran the point home. Twisting violently he banged head and shoulders against the unyielding thighs of his captors until one of them grabbed a handful of the jock’s sandy hair and jerked him upright. ‘What the fuck is this!!!!’ Jeb screamed. ‘I’ll kill you sons of bitches, I swear it!’ He was greeted by laughter as the van door slid open. ‘Out of the car boy, we’re home.’

Jeb didn’t figure on going anywhere. Suddenly stone sober, he lashed out with his feet, smugly pleased that his stupid abductors had failed to immobilize the lethal potential of his muscular legs. He grunted with satisfaction as one foot slammed into the knee cap of the guy sitting on his right, but was immediately disconcerted when his captor smiled and nodded approval. The guy leapt out the open door, rubbed his knee and was joined by the two from the front of the van. The young jock, fueled by stark fear, hot anger and the impossible bravado of his twenty six years held them off with his flailing feet. He was caught by surprise when the unnoticed guy still sitting next to him laid two fists on Jeb’s exposed back and shoved him roughly forward. The jock’s tight ass hit the floor of the van, his feet, paused in mid-kick, were snared and he was pulled screaming by his twisting legs out of the van and dumped like a roped young bull on the concrete driveway. ‘One good kick deserves another,’ and Jeb looked up at the impossible height of Charlie standing over him. An instant later the air emptied from his lungs as the toe of Charlie’s boot slammed into the jock’s rib cage. Jeb’s blustering curses (somehow comforting) came to an abrupt end as he gasped for breath and tears of shocked pain filled his blue eyes. He felt himself picked up, winced at the spreading bruise on his ribcage, and slung over the shoulder of one of his captors. The small crowd of men disappeared into the shadows of the unlit garage.

The handsome captive was levered onto an old workbench and lay on his back staring into the black shadows of the ceiling, his mind racing with the cold clarity of adrenaline laced fear. He registered the flick of a switch under the deeper sound of the wide door rolling down and squinted against the blazing bulb hung from a wire six feet above his head. As the purple backwash cleared from his vision Jeb’s gut lurched for a different reason than before at the sight of four men gathered around him; wide, mirthless smiles plastering hungry faces. Charlie giggled and beat a quick rat-tat drum roll on Jeb’s heaving chest. Fat Ricky reached under the t-shirt, tweaking the fine carpet of hair on the jock’s belly, hiking the shirt up over Jeb’s twitching abs in the process. ‘We got ourselves a real good’un,’ one of them said and Ricky, ever talkative, replied, ‘Oh yeah, Bobby, he’ll do just fine.’ Bobby’s restless hand hiked Jeb’s t-shirt up further, bunched around his slick collar bone, and he roughly roamed the naked stretched torso of the terrified victim. ‘They’re going to kill me!’ Jeb’s mind shrieked an impossible scenario and he twisted his head back and forth in ardent denial as Bobby grabbed one of his wide nipples and tweaked. The macho buck let out a satisfying yelp and instantly regretted it as the sound of wild mirth and knee slapping filled the garage. Both tender nipples were eagerly twisted like a ghetto kid’s boom box and the sweet music of Jeb’s hoarse involuntary yells followed suit in ever ascending volume. He jerked violently to the side, but was held firm by Ricky’s hand buried in the worn denim of his crotch.

Jeb heard the distant rip of his t-shirt through a cotton haze of terror and revulsion. His chest was covered with a fine down of dark blond fur running in a clean line from the cleft of his sternum and widening to a curly carpet over his tensed belly. Charlie dropped the ruined t-shirt on the floor and ran a stubby finger south through the sweat-slicked hair, up and over the ridges of flexed abs and paused, casually circling the depths of the jock’s deep navel. ‘Oh no, oh no...don’t...’ Jeb’s mind raced; one step ahead of the game. No good at telepathy, his silent wish was denied as Charlie’s fingers dipped below the waistband of his jeans and, fumbling with the steel buttons, laid them wide open over the bound stud’s white boxers. ‘Right on Charlie! Get his pants off; let’s have a look at what kind of goods our bragging boy is really packing.’ Jeb’s jeans were ceremoniously pulled down to his ankles, then over flailing feet and thrown into a corner of the garage. ‘Ah shit!!!’ Jeb’s mind shrieked his worst nightmare, ‘They’re a bunch of faggots...gonna maybe fuck me...’ and he tried to hide from the image that threatened to shatter his mind, but couldn’t and, clenching his as yet inviolate asshole tightly, he raised his head and looked down the expanse of chest and belly to the scant protection of the boxers. Jeb was horrified to see a dark tuft of pubic hair peeking from the useless wide open fly and watched, with dazed resignation, as Bobby’s hand sought out the gap and burrowed inside. Jeb’s eyes screwed shut against the horror but this only had the effect of increasing the tactile sensation as Bobby’s wide hand surrounded the thick shaft of his cock moving slowly up from hairy root to sensitive head. He hummed something meaningless and teased the reluctant stud’s dick out of his shorts to the appreciative catcalls of the three other guys standing around. ‘No kidding, dude! You got yourself a fine piece of equipment here,’ and Bobby pulled the captive’s helpless dick through the gaping fly of his shorts to the whistling admiration of the others. ‘Damn perverts!’ Jeb was crying and he bellowed an encompassing rage all mixed together with fear, hatred and stark humiliation. ‘I’ll kill you all, I swear I will!!! Fucking bastards let me go NOW; cops will be all over this place...’ he was cut off in mid-sentence by the quick whoosh of a leather strap as it spilt the oily air and cracked against the broad muscles of his hairy chest. ‘Ummmph,’ Jeb choked on his threats and the strap took over; following the bound jock’s trailing words with some real action. ‘Virgil! Charlie! Hold his shoulders!’ Fat Ricky paused, leather strap in hand, and two of the men scurried to obey, pinning the writhing victim firmly to the workbench. ‘Charlie. Quit messing around and get our boy’s shorts off; this ol strap’s downright hungry!’ The others cracked up as Charlie grasped the boxers and roughly pulled them off. He then took up his station at the far end of the workbench, pinning Jeb’s nimble feet. ‘Oh man,’ Ricky sighed, licking fat lips, ‘We got ourselves a load of pure pleasure here: big hairy buck all nice and naked, itching for a workout,’ and the strap came down again on the flat expanse of Jeb’s belly as the garage echoed in equal measure to the mixed music of slapping leather, Ricky’s basso grunts, and Jeb’s reluctant whimpers whistling through clenched teeth.

Twenty minutes later Jeb’s groans pistoned from a slack mouth running with saliva, blond hair from head to groin a deeper shade of glistening bronze matted with the sweat of pain and exertion. The strap devoured the thick muscled contours of chest and belly then, still not satisfied, chomped on his inner thighs. The jock’s big balls were saved for desert. Ricky had a good eye and a powerful arm; flicking the supple leather at impossible angles to the cheers of the three eager spectators. The first lick sent the stud’s dangling testicles straight up onto his thigh. Jeb screamed and his sweat-slick torso jerked three inches straight into the air. Never one to leave a morsel on his plate, Ricky flicked Jeb’s balls back between his legs with a sideways swipe of the strap as easy as scoring at pool back in the bar. His torso convulsed in a shuddering gag and Jeb’s tormentors paused respectfully for a few minutes, even holding his head sideways, as the exhausted jock dry heaved over the edge of the workbench.