Chapter 1: The Slavery Begins
Chris held out his keycard to get into his dormitory, and was surprised to get a red light and a buzz. The door did not unlock.
"That's weird, let me try mine," said Chris' roommate, Steve. But Steve's card didn't work either.
"Are we all locked out?," asked Kyle, the third roommate. His card didn't work either.
Chris got a text message. So did Steve and Kyle. It read: "Honor code violation. Remain where you are and await further instruction."
Chris hadn't been paying attention. He knew that, last year, there was a huge cheating scandal at Dixon College, and Chris knew that over the summer the president announced that the old honor code was coming back, with some adaptations to the modern age. Chris remembered some protests about that, but Chris didn't pay attention to campus controversies.
"Oh shit, this is not good," Steve said.
"What's the big deal?," Chris asked.
Three student members of the Honor Guard were approaching, staring directly at Steve, Kyle, and Chris.
"You don't know?," Kyle whispered.
The honor guard students were dressed like anyone else, except each wore a white armband on his right bicep. Their leader was Rick. Steve and Chris didn't know Rick, but Kyle was on the swim team with him.
"Gentlemen, you've been convicted of an honor code violation. You recall agreeing, your first day of school, to obey the code and abide by punishments?," Rick asked.
They all nodded and said yes.
"Good, let's hurry up and get you into your uniforms. No point in delaying," the Honor Guard leader said.
A group of curious onlookers started to gather.
Rick nodded to his fellow honor guard members, Fraser and Todd. The three of them took three collars out of their pockets. The collars were leather, with locking clasps. Rick collared Kyle first, then Fraser collared Steve. The collars snapped shut and locked around the men's necks.
When Todd went for Chris he started to resist at first, but then Kyle hissed, "Don't fight it, Chris!"
Chris relented and allowed Todd to collar him, too. Chris thought the collar was really tight. It made it uncomfortable to bend or turn his neck. And he really didn't like that it was locked on.
"What are your waistband sizes? Trust me, you don't want to lie," Rick asked them.
They all answered that they were 32s. Rick smiled and reached into his backpack and took out three Hanes white briefs. He handed one each to Steve, Kyle, and Chris.
"OK, strip naked, all of you, and put those on. From now on, that's all you're allowed to wear," Rick said.
The group of onlookers gasped and giggled at that.
"Oh, come on Rick, we don't need to do this right here in front of everyone," Kyle said.
"Kyle, you're my buddy and everything, but we both know that if you disobey an order while wearing that collar, it can mean a lengthened sentence for you. I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Rick said.
They had no choice. Steve, Kyle, and Chris all stripped. Chris went last. He still couldn't believe what was happening, didn't see how this was suddenly the new rule.
For the final step, when they dropped the underwear they had been wearing and put on the white briefs, the guys went as fast as possible, trying to deny the onlookers any peeks at their cocks.
Rick held out a paper bag and ordered the three to put all of their clothes, shoes, and belongings in it.
"Good. Now, just one final thing before you march off to the North Gym," Rick said.
Rick took out three ropes. Starting with Chris, then Steve, then Kyle, he pulled their hands behind their backs, tied the rope around their wrists, and then fastened the other end of the rope to a ring at the back of their collars.
As Rick finished tying up Kyle, he whispered to him: "You look great. But you're wearing these kind of high." Then Rick slowly pulled Kyle's briefs down, until they were as low as possible on his hips.
"All right, get going to the North Gym. You're on your own from here," Rick said.
Rick took the paper bag with their clothes and walked away along with his other two honor guards.
The three roommates silently started the five block walk to the North Gym. The crowd of onlookers fell apart, except that one guy from their dorm, Mark, was following them.
"So, what do you think you guys got busted for?," Mark asked.
"It was the party last night, obviously. Having beer at it," Kyle said.
"Did you fucking turn us in?," Steve asked Mark.
The three stopped walking and turned to face Mark.
Mark looked at them and laughed.
"Don't the three of you look all indignant, standing there in your underwear and slave collars! I don't have to answer your questions. But, yes, of course it was me. I wanted to try this honor code thing out, and you guys are really deserving. But I'm disappointed, I thought you'd be naked," Mark said.
"Mark, I will fuck you up for this. You and I both know why you did this," Steve said.
"Shy about showing off a little skin, Steve? You will have to get over that. Particularly in that job interview you have this week," Mark said, laughing.
Mark playfully touched Steve's nipple. Steve pulled back.
"You guys haven't heard the rules yet, have you? The rules for your... new situation," Mark asked.
"I suppose you know them," Steve said.
Mark smiled and stood even closer to Steve. Steve was an ex--football player, still built like a tree but carrying a bit more fat than he used to. He shifted uncomfortably, twisting his bound wrists.
"You guys are slaves, basically. And the beauty of it, is, you're going to stay slaves, until you earn back your freedom. Know how you do that? By doing favors, for guys like me. Turn around, slave," Mark said.
Gulping, Steve turned so that his rear was facing Mark. Mark pulled the back of Steve's underwear down so that his butt was visible, spanked it, and then let the underwear rise.
"Come see me soon about what favors you can do for me," Mark said. "Now get going."
The three, thankful to keep their underwear, at least, turned and started jogging toward the North Gym.
Everyone still called it the North Gym, although it wasn't a gym anymore. After a new gym had been built last year, this building sat idle. Until now.
When they got to the North Gym they were met by another student, also stripped to his underwear. His name was Eddie. He held a clipboard. Calmly, Eddie took down their names, then untied their wrists.
"Go over into the lobby and watch your orientation video," Eddie told them.
There was a tablet in the lobby. Chris shrugged and pushed play.
"A man without honor is a man without dignity!," the video began.
For ten minutes, they were told how worthless they were. How their new humiliated external condition was meant to show externally what they had done to their honor internally. And so on, and so on.
Then the news: They were now called "scrubs." Scrubs owned nothing, not clothes, not books, not their own bodies.
Scrubs had to wear the slave collars, always. The white briefs were the most clothes scrubs were allowed to wear. This, it was emphasized, was a generous new modern twist on the old honor code rule, abandoned in the 1980s, when scrubs were required to be naked at all times. However, if there was a necktie tied to a doorknob, and a scrub wanted to pass through that door, then the scrub had to strip off his briefs and leave them outside, hoping they'd be there when he returned.
Scrubs were still required to attend all classes, participate in extracurriculars, eat in cafeterias, and do everything else they were planning to do before becoming a scrub. Cutting class or skipping appointments would be met with punishment.
Those without honor, must learn from those with honor. Thus, scrubs must obey all non--sexual commands from other students. Scrubs must pay respect to those students. They must not make eye contact with them, speak unless spoken to, and must stand to the side and make way when another student wants to pass. When in the presence of professors, scrubs must kneel.
But there was an end in sight. Scrubs remained scrubs until they earned three Golden Merits. Some students on campus had the right to bestow a Golden Merit on a scrub at least once per week. Some students even had the right to bestow more than one per week. It was completely up to the other students whether, or when, or to who, they would award a Golden Merit. When they awarded it, they would use a pen to sign their name to one of the scrub's body parts. The moment a scrub got that third Golden Merit, he should immediately return to the North Gym, where his collar would be removed, his property and clothes returned to him, and his dignity would be restored.
Steve, Kyle, and Chris watched the video twice.
"Fucking obey the rules. If you don't, there's even worse shit in store from you. You get sent to the Agricultural Research Center. That's enough said about that. OK, what did you scrubs have planned for the week before this happened to you?," Eddie asked.
They each mumbled an answer. Kyle had swim practice; Steve had a job interview; and Chris had a study group.
"Then, all three of you, get going. This will be hard for you, first time always is, but remember that this is about restoring your dignity," Eddie said.
College Slave Chronicles (M+/M+)
Something makes me think the Agricultural Research Center owns a milker!
In any case, how thrilling! I'm excited to see whether or not these troublemakers can earn their Merits!
In any case, how thrilling! I'm excited to see whether or not these troublemakers can earn their Merits!
Chapter 2: An Undercover Scrub
At that moment across campus President Rush was meeting with Dylan Patterson, the editor of the school paper, and Riley Truman, one of the paper's star reporters.
President Rush had the admiration of students, alumni, and professors. Dixon College had been a quaint and strictly regional college, one of the last colleges that was for men only, a place that local rich families would send underachieving sons. As an alum of Dixon, President Rush wanted to help. And President Rush did help; just five years after taking over, enrollment and interest in Dixon had been growing steadily.
"You have to admit, President Rush, that our investigation into the scrub program has turned up some alarming facts. In a few short weeks, a disproportionate number of attractive athletes have been stripped almost naked, made scrubs, and humiliated in front of their peers," Riley said.
President Rush stared out the window, watching a tall athletic scrub wearing only white briefs and a slave collar walking to scrub quarters away from the weight room.
"I do admit it, and more than that. Gentlemen, I am happy to give you an interview, but honestly, I brought you here today for something more. I badly need your help. Can we go off the record?," President Rush said.
Dylan signaled to Riley, and Riley stopped recording the conversation with his iPhone.
"I strongly suspect that Dean Paul is abusing the scrub program, unfairly turning attractive young men into scrubs so that he can exploit them for money or for worse," President Rush said.
"Do you have proof?," Dylan asked.
"No, but that's where you come in. I need one of you to go undercover into the scrub program, and get the real truth of what is going on," President Rush said.
President Rush opened a desk drawer, and withdrew from it a scrub collar, a pair of briefs, and a rope.
"You can't be serious," Riley said.
"I'll hang onto the key to the collar. That will prove to everyone that you weren't really be a scrub, and you can escape at any time by getting the signal to me. Listen, if you do this, I'll be very appreciative. Also, this could easily be award--winning stuff. Pulitzer, even," President Rush said.
Dylan and Riley looked at each other and realized this was correct.
"Well, Riley, I bet you're glad you've been working out," Dylan said, smiling.
"Hold on, boss. It can't be me. I've been interviewing honor guards, scrubs, everyone. They all would catch on right away that I'm not really a scrub," Riley said.
"Gosh, I don't know," Dylan said.
"Like I said, I would be appreciative," the President said.
Dylan understood what that meant. When President Rush said he would be "very appreciative," everyone on campus understood what he meant. President Rush knew everyone in the state, and he could get a student a job anywhere----with the state's richest bank, with the governor, anything he wanted. President Rush was a man you wanted to have owe you a favor.
"Fine," Dylan said, "I'll do it."
"Thank you. Here, take these, and get ready. You can use the bathroom down the hall. Riley, go with him to help? Bring his street clothes and the key to his collar back to me, and I'll return it to you personally, Dylan, when the time is up," he said.
Dylan and Riley walked to the bathroom.
"Ever do something like this before?," Riley asked.
"Nope," Dylan said.
He entered the bathroom leaving Riley outside. A few minutes later the door opened and Dylan walked out wearing just the white briefs.
Riley smiled, tried to hold back a laugh, but then the laugh came roaring out.
"Oh, fuck you, I'm going back to get dressed," Dylan said.
"Wait, no, no, I'm sorry. It's just-- I mean, if the scrubs are disproportionately athletes, you're fixing that problem, aren't you? Dude, do you know where the gym is?," Riley teased.
Dylan's cheeks burned red. He stared down past his flat stomach at his white briefs and bare feet. Riley was just teasing him. Dylan did work out. Everyone at Dixon did; morning exercise classes were mandatory, at least three times a week.
Riley went into the bathroom and grabbed Dylan's trash bag, which had his clothes, phone, and everything else.
"I couldn't figure out how to put the collar on," Dylan said.
"Yeah, it locks. Here, let me," Riley said.
Riley wrapped the collar around Dylan's neck, tightened it, and locked it. He dangled the key in front of Dylan and then palmed it.
"That's really uncomfortable," Dylan said, tugging at the collar.
"That's the point. All the scrubs I interviewed say they hate the collar the most. Well, ready to go?," Riley said.
Dylan sighed nervously.
"Yeah, I guess so," he said.
"OK, one last thing, then. Give me those briefs," Riley said.
"Uh, no, dude," Dylan said.
"Dylan, didn't you notice the necktie on the front door of this building? You know the rules. Why do any of this if you get spotted as a fake right away?," Riley said.
"I'll be fine from here to the exit," Dylan said.
"Ten people could see you by then. Come on, I'll stand behind you," Riley said.
Dylan realized Riley was right. Riley stood behind him. Dylan closed his eyes and pulled the underwear to the floor, reaching behind himself to hand the underwear to Riley.
Riley grabbed Dylan's wrists and tied them with the rope.
"Hey!," Dylan shouted.
"Scrubs get tied up for the walk to the North Gym, remember?," Riley said.
Riley tied the other end of the rope to the ring on the back of Dylan's collar and pulled tight.
"This is really uncomfortable. Come on, Riley, I'm naked and tied up now. It's just us, here, there's no need for this," Dylan said.
Riley calmly walked around to stare at his naked, helpless, tied--up editor from the front.
"Holy shit, Dylan. You're huge!," Riley exclaimed.
Self--consciously, Dylan stared down at his own dick, regretting that he could no longer cover it with his hands.
"You might not have a great body, except for that one thing," Riley said, laughing.
Dylan was filled with regret. He considered asking for his clothes back right there. He didn't like how Riley, his subordinate, was suddenly treating him. If it hadn't been the President who was asking, Dylan would never have agreed to this.
Just then President Rush walked toward them.
"Kneel down," Riley whispered to Dylan.
Dylan had forgotten the rule that scrubs had to kneel in the presence of professors. He knelt and hung his head.
"President Rush, there's no need for you to take possession of his clothes and his collar key. I can handle it. We'll call you if we need to get Dylan out of trouble. Sound good?," Riley said.
Before Dylan Patterson could disagree, President Rush agreed.
"Yes, Riley, thank you for taking that off my hands. Thanks for doing this, Dylan. I see you're already committing to the part. Just remember, your work could save the school. We'll appreciate this. Now, get moving. To avoid being seen, I recommend the freight elevator," he said.
In the end Riley was wrong, Dylan thought; thanks to the freight elevator they were able to get out of the administration building without being seen.
But Riley was clearly enjoying the situation, staring at his naked editor's dick and smiling. The key to Dylan's collar was in Riley's pocket, now. Riley clutched the trash bag full of Dylan's clothes tightly against his body with one arm, and dangled Dylan's Hanes briefs from his other hand.
"Don't worry about a thing, Dylan. I will definitely find you and give you your clothes back in twenty--four hours. Well, maybe forty--eight hours. Nothing could stop me," Riley said.
"Riley, cut the crap and give me those briefs back. We're almost out of the building," Dylan said.
"You need to practice being in character, Dylan. Address me as sir," Riley said.
Dylan just rolled his eyes at that.
The freight elevator opened its doors, and a few steps away they found an exit into the alley. Dylan hesitated before going outside.
"Briefs, please," Dylan said, adding, "sir."
"Of course. But first I need you to come outside with me," Riley said.
Riley hooked a finger into the ring on the front of Dylan's collar and gently but firmly pulled him forward. Riley walked outside. Dylan had no choice physically but to follow Riley outdoors. The elevator door closed behind him.
"That's a good scrub, Dylan. Now kneel," Riley said.
"Come on, cut the crap," Dylan said.
"Kneel, or I'll find an honor officer and tell him how disobedient you are," Riley taunted, laughing.
Dylan kneeled on the ground again, his hands tied behind him. Riley was behind him. Dylan wasn't sure what was happening. But then Riley walked in front of him, holding up his phone with the camera lens pointed at him.
"Holy shit, are you taking video of me?," Dylan asked.
"Journalism, remember? I'm documenting your story," Riley said, smiling.
Dylan twisted against the ropes that were binding him but could not break free. Slowly, leisurely, Riley walked around Dylan again and again, recording every inch of his kneeling, squirming body.
"Dylan, you have to remember how dangerous this is. If they find out you're just posing as a scrub, they could bust you and turn you into one for real. All this stuff we're doing right now is to get you into character. Real scrubs are stripped in front of their friends, tied up, humiliated, just like you. Do you understand?," Riley said.
Dylan wanted to chew Riley out. He was furious. But, he said:
"Yes, sir."
Riley smiled, dangled the briefs in front of Dylan, and dropped them to the ground in front of him. Dylan stepped into them. Riley bent down and pulled them up over Dylan's body.
"Get going, scrub," Riley said, and spanked Dylan.
Dylan ran away.
At that moment across campus President Rush was meeting with Dylan Patterson, the editor of the school paper, and Riley Truman, one of the paper's star reporters.
President Rush had the admiration of students, alumni, and professors. Dixon College had been a quaint and strictly regional college, one of the last colleges that was for men only, a place that local rich families would send underachieving sons. As an alum of Dixon, President Rush wanted to help. And President Rush did help; just five years after taking over, enrollment and interest in Dixon had been growing steadily.
"You have to admit, President Rush, that our investigation into the scrub program has turned up some alarming facts. In a few short weeks, a disproportionate number of attractive athletes have been stripped almost naked, made scrubs, and humiliated in front of their peers," Riley said.
President Rush stared out the window, watching a tall athletic scrub wearing only white briefs and a slave collar walking to scrub quarters away from the weight room.
"I do admit it, and more than that. Gentlemen, I am happy to give you an interview, but honestly, I brought you here today for something more. I badly need your help. Can we go off the record?," President Rush said.
Dylan signaled to Riley, and Riley stopped recording the conversation with his iPhone.
"I strongly suspect that Dean Paul is abusing the scrub program, unfairly turning attractive young men into scrubs so that he can exploit them for money or for worse," President Rush said.
"Do you have proof?," Dylan asked.
"No, but that's where you come in. I need one of you to go undercover into the scrub program, and get the real truth of what is going on," President Rush said.
President Rush opened a desk drawer, and withdrew from it a scrub collar, a pair of briefs, and a rope.
"You can't be serious," Riley said.
"I'll hang onto the key to the collar. That will prove to everyone that you weren't really be a scrub, and you can escape at any time by getting the signal to me. Listen, if you do this, I'll be very appreciative. Also, this could easily be award--winning stuff. Pulitzer, even," President Rush said.
Dylan and Riley looked at each other and realized this was correct.
"Well, Riley, I bet you're glad you've been working out," Dylan said, smiling.
"Hold on, boss. It can't be me. I've been interviewing honor guards, scrubs, everyone. They all would catch on right away that I'm not really a scrub," Riley said.
"Gosh, I don't know," Dylan said.
"Like I said, I would be appreciative," the President said.
Dylan understood what that meant. When President Rush said he would be "very appreciative," everyone on campus understood what he meant. President Rush knew everyone in the state, and he could get a student a job anywhere----with the state's richest bank, with the governor, anything he wanted. President Rush was a man you wanted to have owe you a favor.
"Fine," Dylan said, "I'll do it."
"Thank you. Here, take these, and get ready. You can use the bathroom down the hall. Riley, go with him to help? Bring his street clothes and the key to his collar back to me, and I'll return it to you personally, Dylan, when the time is up," he said.
Dylan and Riley walked to the bathroom.
"Ever do something like this before?," Riley asked.
"Nope," Dylan said.
He entered the bathroom leaving Riley outside. A few minutes later the door opened and Dylan walked out wearing just the white briefs.
Riley smiled, tried to hold back a laugh, but then the laugh came roaring out.
"Oh, fuck you, I'm going back to get dressed," Dylan said.
"Wait, no, no, I'm sorry. It's just-- I mean, if the scrubs are disproportionately athletes, you're fixing that problem, aren't you? Dude, do you know where the gym is?," Riley teased.
Dylan's cheeks burned red. He stared down past his flat stomach at his white briefs and bare feet. Riley was just teasing him. Dylan did work out. Everyone at Dixon did; morning exercise classes were mandatory, at least three times a week.
Riley went into the bathroom and grabbed Dylan's trash bag, which had his clothes, phone, and everything else.
"I couldn't figure out how to put the collar on," Dylan said.
"Yeah, it locks. Here, let me," Riley said.
Riley wrapped the collar around Dylan's neck, tightened it, and locked it. He dangled the key in front of Dylan and then palmed it.
"That's really uncomfortable," Dylan said, tugging at the collar.
"That's the point. All the scrubs I interviewed say they hate the collar the most. Well, ready to go?," Riley said.
Dylan sighed nervously.
"Yeah, I guess so," he said.
"OK, one last thing, then. Give me those briefs," Riley said.
"Uh, no, dude," Dylan said.
"Dylan, didn't you notice the necktie on the front door of this building? You know the rules. Why do any of this if you get spotted as a fake right away?," Riley said.
"I'll be fine from here to the exit," Dylan said.
"Ten people could see you by then. Come on, I'll stand behind you," Riley said.
Dylan realized Riley was right. Riley stood behind him. Dylan closed his eyes and pulled the underwear to the floor, reaching behind himself to hand the underwear to Riley.
Riley grabbed Dylan's wrists and tied them with the rope.
"Hey!," Dylan shouted.
"Scrubs get tied up for the walk to the North Gym, remember?," Riley said.
Riley tied the other end of the rope to the ring on the back of Dylan's collar and pulled tight.
"This is really uncomfortable. Come on, Riley, I'm naked and tied up now. It's just us, here, there's no need for this," Dylan said.
Riley calmly walked around to stare at his naked, helpless, tied--up editor from the front.
"Holy shit, Dylan. You're huge!," Riley exclaimed.
Self--consciously, Dylan stared down at his own dick, regretting that he could no longer cover it with his hands.
"You might not have a great body, except for that one thing," Riley said, laughing.
Dylan was filled with regret. He considered asking for his clothes back right there. He didn't like how Riley, his subordinate, was suddenly treating him. If it hadn't been the President who was asking, Dylan would never have agreed to this.
Just then President Rush walked toward them.
"Kneel down," Riley whispered to Dylan.
Dylan had forgotten the rule that scrubs had to kneel in the presence of professors. He knelt and hung his head.
"President Rush, there's no need for you to take possession of his clothes and his collar key. I can handle it. We'll call you if we need to get Dylan out of trouble. Sound good?," Riley said.
Before Dylan Patterson could disagree, President Rush agreed.
"Yes, Riley, thank you for taking that off my hands. Thanks for doing this, Dylan. I see you're already committing to the part. Just remember, your work could save the school. We'll appreciate this. Now, get moving. To avoid being seen, I recommend the freight elevator," he said.
In the end Riley was wrong, Dylan thought; thanks to the freight elevator they were able to get out of the administration building without being seen.
But Riley was clearly enjoying the situation, staring at his naked editor's dick and smiling. The key to Dylan's collar was in Riley's pocket, now. Riley clutched the trash bag full of Dylan's clothes tightly against his body with one arm, and dangled Dylan's Hanes briefs from his other hand.
"Don't worry about a thing, Dylan. I will definitely find you and give you your clothes back in twenty--four hours. Well, maybe forty--eight hours. Nothing could stop me," Riley said.
"Riley, cut the crap and give me those briefs back. We're almost out of the building," Dylan said.
"You need to practice being in character, Dylan. Address me as sir," Riley said.
Dylan just rolled his eyes at that.
The freight elevator opened its doors, and a few steps away they found an exit into the alley. Dylan hesitated before going outside.
"Briefs, please," Dylan said, adding, "sir."
"Of course. But first I need you to come outside with me," Riley said.
Riley hooked a finger into the ring on the front of Dylan's collar and gently but firmly pulled him forward. Riley walked outside. Dylan had no choice physically but to follow Riley outdoors. The elevator door closed behind him.
"That's a good scrub, Dylan. Now kneel," Riley said.
"Come on, cut the crap," Dylan said.
"Kneel, or I'll find an honor officer and tell him how disobedient you are," Riley taunted, laughing.
Dylan kneeled on the ground again, his hands tied behind him. Riley was behind him. Dylan wasn't sure what was happening. But then Riley walked in front of him, holding up his phone with the camera lens pointed at him.
"Holy shit, are you taking video of me?," Dylan asked.
"Journalism, remember? I'm documenting your story," Riley said, smiling.
Dylan twisted against the ropes that were binding him but could not break free. Slowly, leisurely, Riley walked around Dylan again and again, recording every inch of his kneeling, squirming body.
"Dylan, you have to remember how dangerous this is. If they find out you're just posing as a scrub, they could bust you and turn you into one for real. All this stuff we're doing right now is to get you into character. Real scrubs are stripped in front of their friends, tied up, humiliated, just like you. Do you understand?," Riley said.
Dylan wanted to chew Riley out. He was furious. But, he said:
"Yes, sir."
Riley smiled, dangled the briefs in front of Dylan, and dropped them to the ground in front of him. Dylan stepped into them. Riley bent down and pulled them up over Dylan's body.
"Get going, scrub," Riley said, and spanked Dylan.
Dylan ran away.
Wow, power immediately went to Riley's head! Or peehaps just relief that he wasn't in his editor's position. I just hope thye know what they're doing - it wouldn't take much to make a pesky reporter disappear while he's in the scrub system...
A fascinating college these boys attend! It'll be interesting to see how Chris, Steve, and Kyle navigate their new situation! I also have a sneaking suspicion that Dylan won't be able to finish this story... Not with Riley's newfound power!
Chapter 3: Chris Gets Stripped by Friends
Alex and Bill chatted nervously in the library, sitting in the study room where they met with Parker and Chris once a week to go over notes and also just talk amongst friends.
Word had already gotten around campus about what had happened. Alex and Bill had both seen the video of Chris stripped to a pair of tiny white briefs, tied up, and collared, and marched across campus. They knew how Chris was now a scrub, basically a slave, all because Mark tattled on him. Alex and Bill wondered if Chris would show up.
Parker joined them. He didn't mention the scrub situation. They talked about sports, weather, anything else.
Then Chris entered. He was wearing only a pair of white briefs and his slave collar. Normally Chris would have brought his books with him, but today he carried nothing. He didn't own any books, any laptops, any backpacks--he owned nothing now.
Chris had a good body, though he didn't know that. His chest featured noticeable but not huge pecs, and his shoulders and arms were kind of defined. His stomach bulged a little bit before angling down to meet the soft elastic of his briefs. The briefs hid what appeared to be a bubble butt and a slight bulge in front. Skinny legs extended down from the briefs, ending in sore bare feet.
Chris usually kept his body hidden. He hadn't changed clothes in a locker room since high school. He didn't even like going shirtless in summer. The way he held his body, the way he diverted his eyes, broadcast to everyone how uncomfortable he was in that room. His stomach heaved softly, a clear sign of nervousness.
Chris looked at his friends and prepared for laughter. But all of them welcomed him warmly, and invited him to sit with them.
They talked for a while as though nothing were unusual. But then Alex couldn't resist.
"I have to say, Chris, you do have cute nipples," Alex said.
The other three broke out in laughter, and Chris blushed. Chris's nipples, in fact, were small, noticeably darker than his skin.
"I understand why they are making him walk around in just his undies, though. It puts him in his place. And it makes it easy to tell who is a scrub," Alex said.
"I think the whole thing is cruel. I mean, Chris, you're taking this well, but it's humiliating, isn't it? How many people saw you in your underwear today, just walking here?," Bill said.
"Well, probably five or six people while I was walking here. I came down Bahama street and walked through an alley so fewer people would see me," Chris said.
"It's part of his punishment. Chris showed he has less honor than us, so now he gets less dignity than us. The punishment lasts until he reclaims his dignity," Parker said.
"Reclaim his dignity by walking around in his underwear?," Alex laughed.
Chris laughed along with him.
"Something like that, actually. See, the way it works, some non-scrub students have a Golden Merit to give away to a deserving scrub. When he gets three of them, he goes free," Parker said.
"So that's what that e-mail was about. I've got one of those to give away. Chris, do you want it?," Bill said.
"Hold on, Bill. I've got one, too. Read that e-mail. You can't just give the Golden Merit away. You have to be convinced that the scrub has done something selfless to benefit you or others," Parker said.
"I see," Bill said.
"Pressure's on, too. They say that if he remains a scrub for more than a week, they start giving away the contents of his dorm room. You guys want anything of his?," Parker said.
"Actually, yeah, I'm running low on my supply of tight white briefs," Alex said.
They all laughed at that, but Bill felt bad about laughing when he saw Chris's cheeks get red and his head bow a little more.
"Come on, Alex, that's cruel. You know that this is hard for Chris," Bill said.
But Alex was still staring at Chris's bare chest.
"Chris, you're going to have to become less shy. I mean, you're going to be a scrub for at least a few more days, right? You've got a class on Monday in a lecture hall with 100 students!," Alex said.
"And he'll have to stand, too. Probably at the front of the room. It will be a distraction for the other students, that's for sure," Parker said.
"Guys, I--" Chris began, then paused, then blurted: "I really would like to get those Golden Merits. I'll do anything for them."
They were all quiet at that. Bill and Alex wondered what, exactly, Chris was volunteering to do. Parker smiled, and started imagining what he could make Chris do. He felt his dick stiffen in his jeans as he looked at Chris cowering in his underwear. Parker thought about the butt that was under those briefs, thought about the fun he could have with a Chris if Chris were eager to please him.
"Let's change the subject," Bill said.
They did; they talked about the things they normally would, about their organic chemistry reading, the news of the day, and sports. Chris lost his nervousness and started acting himself again, laughing and joking with the other guys. But then Parker started talking about Chris's favorite team.
"Yeah, they made a terrible draft pick, they're fucked for this year," Parker said.
"Oh, the hell they are," Chris shot back. Then, realizing what he had just done, he hurriedly tried to correct himself: "I mean-- sir-- I'm sorry--"
"Oh damn. I bet talking like that is against the rules," Alex said.
"Come on, let's go easy on him," Bill said.
"We can't! We could be accused of violating the honor code ourselves! Right, Parker?," Alex said.
Parker nodded.
"Stand up, Chris," Parker said.
Chris stood. They could all see his underwear again, Chris thought. Away from the table, he felt more exposed than ever. He noticed Alex looking at the small bulge in his underwear, felt Alex guessing how small his dick was.
"Strip," Parker said.
"Oh, come on, this doesn't have to happen here, in front of us," Bill said.
"Yes, it does. You all saw him disrespect me. You have to see me punish him, now," Parker said.
This is going too far, Chris thought. But where could he go? And he didn't want to look like a coward in front of his friends. Better to go through with it. Chris felt himself put his hands on his underwear band and pull downward. It was like someone else was doing it to him, though he knew he was doing it to himself...
"He's naked! He's... naked!," Alex shouted, with delight.
"Dude, that's your friend. Show some pity. Look away," Bill said.
"Yeah, and my friend got himself enslaved to us, and now I'm enjoying the show. Dude! That is a SMALL dick! Look at his dick!," Alex said.
"It's not... so bad," Bill said.
Parker stared at Chris' body. Staring at it for Parker was like having a long-running mystery solved. There was no more guessing about what Chris was hiding under his clothes all that time. Every inch was now open to Parker's inspection. More, probably, very soon.
"Turn around, and bend over," Parker said.
Chris did it, glad to take his small dick away from Alex's inspection.
Parker raised his hand and spanked Chris's bare ass. Hard. Then he did it again, and a third time.
"That's all? Just three?," Alex asked.
"No. That's not all. We're all going to do it," Parker said.
Alex laughed and swatted Chris's ass immediately. Chris winced from the pain. Alex swatted him twice more, then looked at Bill.
"Over to you, Bill," Alex said.
Bill rose from his seat.
"No, I will take no part in this. I'm leaving," Bill said.
"Oh, come on Bill," Alex said.
"You really don't want to go," Parker said.
But then they heard a shout.
"Bill!," Chris shouted, still bent over and naked.
Bill stopped.
"You need to do it, Bill. They'll make you a scrub otherwise. Trust me, you don't want that. Do it for me, Bill, please, I'm begging you," Chris said.
So Bill did it. He walked to his naked friend and spanked him, three times.
"I think that earns him a Golden Merit from me. What do I do?," Bill said.
"Take a marker and sign your name on my lower back," Chris said.
Bill did it, writing his name in clear capital letters just above Chris's butt cheeks.
They all stood quietly, thinking about what had just happened.
"Stand up, Chris, and put these on again," Parker said, handing Chris his underwear.
"Oh, come on, and he gets to get dressed again? You're such a softie," Alex said.
"Alex, shut the fuck up, this is hard for all of us," Bill said.
"Chris doesn't look hard," Alex said.
What Alex did not say, but all of them could see, was that Parker did.
Alex and Bill chatted nervously in the library, sitting in the study room where they met with Parker and Chris once a week to go over notes and also just talk amongst friends.
Word had already gotten around campus about what had happened. Alex and Bill had both seen the video of Chris stripped to a pair of tiny white briefs, tied up, and collared, and marched across campus. They knew how Chris was now a scrub, basically a slave, all because Mark tattled on him. Alex and Bill wondered if Chris would show up.
Parker joined them. He didn't mention the scrub situation. They talked about sports, weather, anything else.
Then Chris entered. He was wearing only a pair of white briefs and his slave collar. Normally Chris would have brought his books with him, but today he carried nothing. He didn't own any books, any laptops, any backpacks--he owned nothing now.
Chris had a good body, though he didn't know that. His chest featured noticeable but not huge pecs, and his shoulders and arms were kind of defined. His stomach bulged a little bit before angling down to meet the soft elastic of his briefs. The briefs hid what appeared to be a bubble butt and a slight bulge in front. Skinny legs extended down from the briefs, ending in sore bare feet.
Chris usually kept his body hidden. He hadn't changed clothes in a locker room since high school. He didn't even like going shirtless in summer. The way he held his body, the way he diverted his eyes, broadcast to everyone how uncomfortable he was in that room. His stomach heaved softly, a clear sign of nervousness.
Chris looked at his friends and prepared for laughter. But all of them welcomed him warmly, and invited him to sit with them.
They talked for a while as though nothing were unusual. But then Alex couldn't resist.
"I have to say, Chris, you do have cute nipples," Alex said.
The other three broke out in laughter, and Chris blushed. Chris's nipples, in fact, were small, noticeably darker than his skin.
"I understand why they are making him walk around in just his undies, though. It puts him in his place. And it makes it easy to tell who is a scrub," Alex said.
"I think the whole thing is cruel. I mean, Chris, you're taking this well, but it's humiliating, isn't it? How many people saw you in your underwear today, just walking here?," Bill said.
"Well, probably five or six people while I was walking here. I came down Bahama street and walked through an alley so fewer people would see me," Chris said.
"It's part of his punishment. Chris showed he has less honor than us, so now he gets less dignity than us. The punishment lasts until he reclaims his dignity," Parker said.
"Reclaim his dignity by walking around in his underwear?," Alex laughed.
Chris laughed along with him.
"Something like that, actually. See, the way it works, some non-scrub students have a Golden Merit to give away to a deserving scrub. When he gets three of them, he goes free," Parker said.
"So that's what that e-mail was about. I've got one of those to give away. Chris, do you want it?," Bill said.
"Hold on, Bill. I've got one, too. Read that e-mail. You can't just give the Golden Merit away. You have to be convinced that the scrub has done something selfless to benefit you or others," Parker said.
"I see," Bill said.
"Pressure's on, too. They say that if he remains a scrub for more than a week, they start giving away the contents of his dorm room. You guys want anything of his?," Parker said.
"Actually, yeah, I'm running low on my supply of tight white briefs," Alex said.
They all laughed at that, but Bill felt bad about laughing when he saw Chris's cheeks get red and his head bow a little more.
"Come on, Alex, that's cruel. You know that this is hard for Chris," Bill said.
But Alex was still staring at Chris's bare chest.
"Chris, you're going to have to become less shy. I mean, you're going to be a scrub for at least a few more days, right? You've got a class on Monday in a lecture hall with 100 students!," Alex said.
"And he'll have to stand, too. Probably at the front of the room. It will be a distraction for the other students, that's for sure," Parker said.
"Guys, I--" Chris began, then paused, then blurted: "I really would like to get those Golden Merits. I'll do anything for them."
They were all quiet at that. Bill and Alex wondered what, exactly, Chris was volunteering to do. Parker smiled, and started imagining what he could make Chris do. He felt his dick stiffen in his jeans as he looked at Chris cowering in his underwear. Parker thought about the butt that was under those briefs, thought about the fun he could have with a Chris if Chris were eager to please him.
"Let's change the subject," Bill said.
They did; they talked about the things they normally would, about their organic chemistry reading, the news of the day, and sports. Chris lost his nervousness and started acting himself again, laughing and joking with the other guys. But then Parker started talking about Chris's favorite team.
"Yeah, they made a terrible draft pick, they're fucked for this year," Parker said.
"Oh, the hell they are," Chris shot back. Then, realizing what he had just done, he hurriedly tried to correct himself: "I mean-- sir-- I'm sorry--"
"Oh damn. I bet talking like that is against the rules," Alex said.
"Come on, let's go easy on him," Bill said.
"We can't! We could be accused of violating the honor code ourselves! Right, Parker?," Alex said.
Parker nodded.
"Stand up, Chris," Parker said.
Chris stood. They could all see his underwear again, Chris thought. Away from the table, he felt more exposed than ever. He noticed Alex looking at the small bulge in his underwear, felt Alex guessing how small his dick was.
"Strip," Parker said.
"Oh, come on, this doesn't have to happen here, in front of us," Bill said.
"Yes, it does. You all saw him disrespect me. You have to see me punish him, now," Parker said.
This is going too far, Chris thought. But where could he go? And he didn't want to look like a coward in front of his friends. Better to go through with it. Chris felt himself put his hands on his underwear band and pull downward. It was like someone else was doing it to him, though he knew he was doing it to himself...
"He's naked! He's... naked!," Alex shouted, with delight.
"Dude, that's your friend. Show some pity. Look away," Bill said.
"Yeah, and my friend got himself enslaved to us, and now I'm enjoying the show. Dude! That is a SMALL dick! Look at his dick!," Alex said.
"It's not... so bad," Bill said.
Parker stared at Chris' body. Staring at it for Parker was like having a long-running mystery solved. There was no more guessing about what Chris was hiding under his clothes all that time. Every inch was now open to Parker's inspection. More, probably, very soon.
"Turn around, and bend over," Parker said.
Chris did it, glad to take his small dick away from Alex's inspection.
Parker raised his hand and spanked Chris's bare ass. Hard. Then he did it again, and a third time.
"That's all? Just three?," Alex asked.
"No. That's not all. We're all going to do it," Parker said.
Alex laughed and swatted Chris's ass immediately. Chris winced from the pain. Alex swatted him twice more, then looked at Bill.
"Over to you, Bill," Alex said.
Bill rose from his seat.
"No, I will take no part in this. I'm leaving," Bill said.
"Oh, come on Bill," Alex said.
"You really don't want to go," Parker said.
But then they heard a shout.
"Bill!," Chris shouted, still bent over and naked.
Bill stopped.
"You need to do it, Bill. They'll make you a scrub otherwise. Trust me, you don't want that. Do it for me, Bill, please, I'm begging you," Chris said.
So Bill did it. He walked to his naked friend and spanked him, three times.
"I think that earns him a Golden Merit from me. What do I do?," Bill said.
"Take a marker and sign your name on my lower back," Chris said.
Bill did it, writing his name in clear capital letters just above Chris's butt cheeks.
They all stood quietly, thinking about what had just happened.
"Stand up, Chris, and put these on again," Parker said, handing Chris his underwear.
"Oh, come on, and he gets to get dressed again? You're such a softie," Alex said.
"Alex, shut the fuck up, this is hard for all of us," Bill said.
"Chris doesn't look hard," Alex said.
What Alex did not say, but all of them could see, was that Parker did.
Chapter 4: Kyle's Swim Meet
Rick adjusted his Speedo and stepped out of the locker room to the pool. It felt good, honestly, to finally get out of that Honor Guard arm band. Rick had been in the Honor Guard since last year, but, last year the honor code was pretty much toothless. If a guy violated it he just got a letter. Not now, Rick thought, as he watched Kyle walk in.
Kyle's briefs, it had been explained to him, were inappropriate for the pool. So he grudgingly stripped naked in the locker room. Only the slave collar, which was locked on his neck, remained.
Kyle and Rick were both swimmers. Kyle, Rick thought, should be accustomed to walking around the aquatic center showing off his swimmer body. But Rick could see how much Kyle was changed. His posture was slouched, and defensive. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. He kept his head bowed. He just seemed so diminished, so reduced in status. Most annoying, to Rick, was that Kyle was covering his crotch with his hands.
Rick walked up to Kyle, smiling. Kyle, upon seeing the Honor Guard, knelt.
"Kyle, when naked, you're not allowed to cover your dick with your hands," Rick said.
"I'm sorry, sir," Kyle said.
Kyle's dick, Rick thought, was not much larger than his, not particularly large or small. The look of it, though, was somehow pleasing.
"I'm going to have to make sure it doesn't happen again. Stand up and turn around," Rick said.
Rick had brought a rope out to the pool just for this purpose. He tied Kyle's hands behind his back and then tied the rope to the ring at the back of Kyle's slave collar.
The swim team had guests at the pool today. It wasn't an official meet, but they had invited a few members of the team from Everly College, across town, to have a friendly scrimmage.
"Holy shit, nice outfit, dude," said one of the Everly guys when he saw Kyle naked and tied up.
"This is your new fucked up honor system at work, right?," asked another.
"It's not fucked up, but yes," said Rick.
"He has to be your slave for like, a week, right?"
"Maybe longer," Rick said.
"Fuck, man, I know your college is more expensive than ours and you guys get better jobs and everything, but, there's no way I would go here with this rule," said an Everly guy.
"Tell you what. You're on the relay team, right? So are Kyle and me. Let's make a little bet, shall we?," Rick said.
"For what?," the Everly guy said.
"If you guys win, you get Kyle for the night. Take him back to Everly, return him to our gym by 8 the next morning, and I don't care what happens to him but let me know if he disobeys an order or misbehaves," Rick said.
"And if we lose?"
"If you lose, your captain gives me his speedo, and goes home naked. I'll send anything he left in the locker room back to you in the morning," Rick said.
The Everly guys paused at that. They talked to each other in a quick huddle.
"That would be fucking embarrassing, you'd be as much of a loser as this guy," the first one said to the captain.
"He can't swim fast naked and with a collar, though. That dick alone, flopping around, would add drag," said the second one.
Their captain did not speak, but rose from the huddle.
"Come on, when else are you going to get the chance to own a slave for a night? And all you are staking is a few square inches of fabric," Rick said.
The captain walked up to Kyle and stared at his face for a moment.
"This slave, I went to high school with him," the captain said.
It was true. But Kyle had not been spoken to, and therefore had no permission to speak. Kyle had to stand there, silent, now flushed with a new kind of embarrassment.
The captain's name was Tony. Kyle could say a lot about Tony. But right now, he could say nothing.
"Fuuuck. Were you guys friends?," another Everly swimmer asked.
"Kind of, but we competed for a lot of stuff. Like, playing time on the team. And also, getting into this college. We both really wanted to go here, you know. But Kyle here scored the letter of recommendation, I didn't. He ended up going to this elite private college, and I'm at a state school," captain Tony said.
"And look what this great elite college has done for him now," the other swimmer said.
"Yes. Well, he's definitely more fit, now," Tony said.
Tony reached out and felt the muscle in Kyle's shoulder, then let his slide along Kyle's clavicle. It was like he was appraising an animal before purchase. Kyle trembled, unable to do anything, having been ordered to remain still.
"All of this builds character in their students, you understand. They have to adhere to the honor code, and if they don't, they learn discipline this way. It's humiliating, yes, but that just breaks down their bad character so that they can be built back up into great men," Tony said.
"Or, in his case, a great fucktoy?"
Tony laughed at that.
Tony put his hand on Kyle's upper back, gently pushing him forward.
"Bend forward, scrub. You don't mind, do you?," Tony said, asking Rick.
"No, by all means, take your time before you decide," Rick said.
With Kyle bent forward all the way, Tony gently pulled his ass cheeks apart.
"Oh yes, definitely, I'm going to take the bet. But I don't want him just for a night. I want him for forty-eight hours. I'm taking him back home with me, to our old neighborhood. There's a lot of people there who I want him to catch up with," Tony said.
Rick whistled.
"Forty-eight hours? You'll have to increase your stake, then. I want all your speedos if you lose, the whole team. And, I want your body for twenty minutes," Rick said.
"My body, huh?," Tony said.
"Yeah. Your body, for twenty minutes, to be used however I want," Rick said.
"What the fuck, yeah, let's do it," Tony, the Everly captain, said. His team cheered.
Rick had Kyle stand. He began untying him, and whispered into Kyle's ear.
"I don't want you to swim just because you want to win, I don't want you to swim so that you can avoid being fucked repeatedly on the front lawn of your high school nemesis while your ex-girlfriend cheers this state school dimwit on, and I don't want you to win to get me yet another naked slave at my command. I want you to win for the honor of our college. Got it?," Rick said.
"Yes, sir," Kyle said.
It was a relay and Kyle was Dixon College's final swimmer. Everly was a few seconds ahead when Kyle jumped in. Kyle felt his old limitations, ones he never knew he had, slip away. The unfamiliar feeling of being naked in the pool, of being collared in the pool, stopped feeling unfamiliar after just one second. Kyle felt himself swimming with better form, more discipline, more aggression, than ever before. When he reached the end he lifted his head out of the water, exhausted, and saw the Everly swimmer still three seconds away.
Tony, the Everly captain was screaming at his teammates now, especially at the final swimmer who had lost to Kyle. But, to their credit, they all took off their speedos, and held them out for Rick to collect.
"Thanks," Rick said, wadding up the speedos and tossing them in the trash, "but there's one more thing."
"Yeah, I know. Are you going to put one of those collars on me before you fuck me?," Tony asked.
"Certainly not. Only scrubs get those. You're less than that. Go into the showers and grab your ankles," Rick said to the Everly captain.
The now-naked Everly teammates laughed nervously at that, but, stunned, watched their defeated captain walk toward the locker room and showers.
"Everly dickwads, get the fuck out our building. The parking lot is that way," Rick motioned, walking after Tony.
"You've got the keys to our van, it's in my locker," one of them said.
"Not my problem. Walk home. It's only ten miles," Rick said.
Tony, as instructed, was in a shower stall, bent over.
"You really going to go through with this, captain? This is your chance to back out," Rick said.
"Just get it over with, Rick," Tony said.
Rick and Kyle entered the same shower stall. Rick pulled the curtain shut, and turned to Kyle.
"Kyle, winning that relay race for us earned you two rewards. The second reward is going to be a Golden Merit from me today. Tony is about to give you your first reward," Rick said.
Tony stood straight up upon hearing that and turned around with a surprised expression on his face.
"You OK with that?," Rick whispered to Kyle.
"Yeah. Uh, it actually, wouldn't be the first time between Tony and me. Thanks for this," Kyle said, smiling shyly.
Rick nodded and patted Kyle on the shoulder.
Kyle began stroking his own dick. Kyle confidently put one hand on Tony's hip, and used his other hand to push the Everly captain forward, bending him at his hip.
Rick, meanwhile, moved in front of Tony. Rick took off his own speedo, feeling his erect dick bounce as he pulled the swimsuit down. Tony took the hint and brought it into his mouth.
Eagerly, and not very gently, Kyle parted Tony's butt cheeks and entered him, his wet skin sliding against Tony's.
Tony used his 20-minute slavery as the excuse; the truth was he was delighted to be in this situation, having two hot Dixon guys take him on at once. His reckless bet and his own intentionally slow swimming were all worth it now.
Rick adjusted his Speedo and stepped out of the locker room to the pool. It felt good, honestly, to finally get out of that Honor Guard arm band. Rick had been in the Honor Guard since last year, but, last year the honor code was pretty much toothless. If a guy violated it he just got a letter. Not now, Rick thought, as he watched Kyle walk in.
Kyle's briefs, it had been explained to him, were inappropriate for the pool. So he grudgingly stripped naked in the locker room. Only the slave collar, which was locked on his neck, remained.
Kyle and Rick were both swimmers. Kyle, Rick thought, should be accustomed to walking around the aquatic center showing off his swimmer body. But Rick could see how much Kyle was changed. His posture was slouched, and defensive. His cheeks burned with embarrassment. He kept his head bowed. He just seemed so diminished, so reduced in status. Most annoying, to Rick, was that Kyle was covering his crotch with his hands.
Rick walked up to Kyle, smiling. Kyle, upon seeing the Honor Guard, knelt.
"Kyle, when naked, you're not allowed to cover your dick with your hands," Rick said.
"I'm sorry, sir," Kyle said.
Kyle's dick, Rick thought, was not much larger than his, not particularly large or small. The look of it, though, was somehow pleasing.
"I'm going to have to make sure it doesn't happen again. Stand up and turn around," Rick said.
Rick had brought a rope out to the pool just for this purpose. He tied Kyle's hands behind his back and then tied the rope to the ring at the back of Kyle's slave collar.
The swim team had guests at the pool today. It wasn't an official meet, but they had invited a few members of the team from Everly College, across town, to have a friendly scrimmage.
"Holy shit, nice outfit, dude," said one of the Everly guys when he saw Kyle naked and tied up.
"This is your new fucked up honor system at work, right?," asked another.
"It's not fucked up, but yes," said Rick.
"He has to be your slave for like, a week, right?"
"Maybe longer," Rick said.
"Fuck, man, I know your college is more expensive than ours and you guys get better jobs and everything, but, there's no way I would go here with this rule," said an Everly guy.
"Tell you what. You're on the relay team, right? So are Kyle and me. Let's make a little bet, shall we?," Rick said.
"For what?," the Everly guy said.
"If you guys win, you get Kyle for the night. Take him back to Everly, return him to our gym by 8 the next morning, and I don't care what happens to him but let me know if he disobeys an order or misbehaves," Rick said.
"And if we lose?"
"If you lose, your captain gives me his speedo, and goes home naked. I'll send anything he left in the locker room back to you in the morning," Rick said.
The Everly guys paused at that. They talked to each other in a quick huddle.
"That would be fucking embarrassing, you'd be as much of a loser as this guy," the first one said to the captain.
"He can't swim fast naked and with a collar, though. That dick alone, flopping around, would add drag," said the second one.
Their captain did not speak, but rose from the huddle.
"Come on, when else are you going to get the chance to own a slave for a night? And all you are staking is a few square inches of fabric," Rick said.
The captain walked up to Kyle and stared at his face for a moment.
"This slave, I went to high school with him," the captain said.
It was true. But Kyle had not been spoken to, and therefore had no permission to speak. Kyle had to stand there, silent, now flushed with a new kind of embarrassment.
The captain's name was Tony. Kyle could say a lot about Tony. But right now, he could say nothing.
"Fuuuck. Were you guys friends?," another Everly swimmer asked.
"Kind of, but we competed for a lot of stuff. Like, playing time on the team. And also, getting into this college. We both really wanted to go here, you know. But Kyle here scored the letter of recommendation, I didn't. He ended up going to this elite private college, and I'm at a state school," captain Tony said.
"And look what this great elite college has done for him now," the other swimmer said.
"Yes. Well, he's definitely more fit, now," Tony said.
Tony reached out and felt the muscle in Kyle's shoulder, then let his slide along Kyle's clavicle. It was like he was appraising an animal before purchase. Kyle trembled, unable to do anything, having been ordered to remain still.
"All of this builds character in their students, you understand. They have to adhere to the honor code, and if they don't, they learn discipline this way. It's humiliating, yes, but that just breaks down their bad character so that they can be built back up into great men," Tony said.
"Or, in his case, a great fucktoy?"
Tony laughed at that.
Tony put his hand on Kyle's upper back, gently pushing him forward.
"Bend forward, scrub. You don't mind, do you?," Tony said, asking Rick.
"No, by all means, take your time before you decide," Rick said.
With Kyle bent forward all the way, Tony gently pulled his ass cheeks apart.
"Oh yes, definitely, I'm going to take the bet. But I don't want him just for a night. I want him for forty-eight hours. I'm taking him back home with me, to our old neighborhood. There's a lot of people there who I want him to catch up with," Tony said.
Rick whistled.
"Forty-eight hours? You'll have to increase your stake, then. I want all your speedos if you lose, the whole team. And, I want your body for twenty minutes," Rick said.
"My body, huh?," Tony said.
"Yeah. Your body, for twenty minutes, to be used however I want," Rick said.
"What the fuck, yeah, let's do it," Tony, the Everly captain, said. His team cheered.
Rick had Kyle stand. He began untying him, and whispered into Kyle's ear.
"I don't want you to swim just because you want to win, I don't want you to swim so that you can avoid being fucked repeatedly on the front lawn of your high school nemesis while your ex-girlfriend cheers this state school dimwit on, and I don't want you to win to get me yet another naked slave at my command. I want you to win for the honor of our college. Got it?," Rick said.
"Yes, sir," Kyle said.
It was a relay and Kyle was Dixon College's final swimmer. Everly was a few seconds ahead when Kyle jumped in. Kyle felt his old limitations, ones he never knew he had, slip away. The unfamiliar feeling of being naked in the pool, of being collared in the pool, stopped feeling unfamiliar after just one second. Kyle felt himself swimming with better form, more discipline, more aggression, than ever before. When he reached the end he lifted his head out of the water, exhausted, and saw the Everly swimmer still three seconds away.
Tony, the Everly captain was screaming at his teammates now, especially at the final swimmer who had lost to Kyle. But, to their credit, they all took off their speedos, and held them out for Rick to collect.
"Thanks," Rick said, wadding up the speedos and tossing them in the trash, "but there's one more thing."
"Yeah, I know. Are you going to put one of those collars on me before you fuck me?," Tony asked.
"Certainly not. Only scrubs get those. You're less than that. Go into the showers and grab your ankles," Rick said to the Everly captain.
The now-naked Everly teammates laughed nervously at that, but, stunned, watched their defeated captain walk toward the locker room and showers.
"Everly dickwads, get the fuck out our building. The parking lot is that way," Rick motioned, walking after Tony.
"You've got the keys to our van, it's in my locker," one of them said.
"Not my problem. Walk home. It's only ten miles," Rick said.
Tony, as instructed, was in a shower stall, bent over.
"You really going to go through with this, captain? This is your chance to back out," Rick said.
"Just get it over with, Rick," Tony said.
Rick and Kyle entered the same shower stall. Rick pulled the curtain shut, and turned to Kyle.
"Kyle, winning that relay race for us earned you two rewards. The second reward is going to be a Golden Merit from me today. Tony is about to give you your first reward," Rick said.
Tony stood straight up upon hearing that and turned around with a surprised expression on his face.
"You OK with that?," Rick whispered to Kyle.
"Yeah. Uh, it actually, wouldn't be the first time between Tony and me. Thanks for this," Kyle said, smiling shyly.
Rick nodded and patted Kyle on the shoulder.
Kyle began stroking his own dick. Kyle confidently put one hand on Tony's hip, and used his other hand to push the Everly captain forward, bending him at his hip.
Rick, meanwhile, moved in front of Tony. Rick took off his own speedo, feeling his erect dick bounce as he pulled the swimsuit down. Tony took the hint and brought it into his mouth.
Eagerly, and not very gently, Kyle parted Tony's butt cheeks and entered him, his wet skin sliding against Tony's.
Tony used his 20-minute slavery as the excuse; the truth was he was delighted to be in this situation, having two hot Dixon guys take him on at once. His reckless bet and his own intentionally slow swimming were all worth it now.
Chapter 5: Dylan and Kyle Go to Work
Kyle's body ached. It ached from the sex with Rick and Tony. It ached from the physical labor he'd had to do immediately afterwards, scrubbing the history department's floors on his hands and knees. The aching now made it easier for Kyle now to stand still. Kyle was back in the North Gym, standing in the middle of a racquetball court. Next to him was Dylan Patterson and Tom Barrowmore. Like Kyle, Dylan and Tom wore only a pair of white briefs and a slave collar. All three were also tied up, their hands tied behind their backs with an end of the rope going to a ring in the backs of their slave collars.
This was called the "waiting room," where scrubs with no assignment waited to be picked. The room used to be a racquetball court, and it still had a glass observation area up above. Kyle knew there were people up there, staring at the near-naked, tied up scrubs below, but he could not make out who.
Dylan was vaguely familiar to Kyle. As far as Kyle could tell, Dylan was a tall, skinny scrub with a big bulge in the front of his briefs. Unlike most of the other scrubs Kyle had seen, Dylan was not ripped, and in fact was not really muscular at all. Dylan was obviously deeply uncomfortable standing around in just his underwear. A guy like Dylan, Kyle thought, was more used to keeping his body private.
Next to both of them was Tom Barrowmore, another scrub stripped to just white briefs. Tom was absolutely ripped. He was on the gymnastics team, or the wrestling team, or something like that. Tom was so strikingly built, and so handsome, that Kyle felt inferior next to him. Kyle felt about Tom the way Dylan probably felt about Kyle; he was standing next to a clearly superior physical specimen.
Kyle decided to break the monotony with some conversation, even though, strictly speaking, scrubs were required to be quiet.
"Been here long?," Kyle whispered to Tom.
"I've been a scrub longer than I care to admit, but that's about to change," Tom replied, also in a whisper.
Tom twisted around to show off his lower back. It featured two signatures.
Kyle whistled.
"How'd you get those?," Kyle asked.
Tom laughed.
"You haven't figured it out yet? Come on, you know what all this is about," Tom said, motioning with his head to where they were standing, to Kyle's underwear, and to his slave collar.
Kyle laughed.
"Yeah, I guess I do. I was scrubbing the floors in the history department's building today. A professor passed so I had to kneel. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me how sorry he felt for me, how awful he thought the scrub program was, and then he offered to get me assigned to his house for the evening, for, he said, special rest and relaxation," Kyle said.
"I'm surprised they have you doing shit like scrubbing floors. A guy like you, you'll probably get selected for special duty, like I was," Tom said.
Kyle blushed a bit at the "guy like you" compliment.
The door opened and Eddie, the scrub with the clipboard, walked in. Next to him was a custodian, dressed in overalls.
"Barrowmore, you've got a work assignment. Probably your last. Congratulations. Head outside," Eddie said.
Tom smiled and nodded and walked toward the front door.
"One second, you're not going to need these," Eddie said.
Eddie pulled down Tom's white briefs, and then casually shot them like a rubber band across the room, where they landed perfectly in a trash can.
Kyle snuck a peek at Tom's cock, which, as he guessed, was long and thick.
"I live to serve," Tom said, with a big smile. He playfully jiggled his dick and then, naked and tied up, happily walked out of the room.
Eddie turned to the custodian.
"How many do you need?," Eddie asked him.
"Two. Two guys called in sick, today," the custodian said.
There were three other scrubs in line besides Kyle and Dylan, and they nervously shrank from the custodian's view, trying to hide their bodies as if they were teenage boys in a locker room suddenly raided by girls.
Eddie pointed at Kyle and Dylan.
"Kyle here was talking, so he clearly needs more work. And Dylan hasn't done much of anything yet. How about them?," Eddie asked.
"Fine, whatever. As long as they'll work," the custodian said.
Kyle sighed. Not this again.
Eddie took a chain. He connected one end to the front of Dylan's collar and the other end to the back of Kyle's. The chain was about three feet long. Then Eddie took a dog leash and attached it to the front of Kyle's collar, and handed the collar to the custodian.
"There you go, please report any discipline problems," Eddie said.
The custodian shrugged and grabbed the leash and led the two tied-up scrubs out of the racquetball court. Kyle and Dylan were not used to being dragged around by their necks. They both stumbled, with Dylan almost falling into Kyle. But the custodian didn't care. He led them out of the gym, then towards a grounds crew pickup truck.
Outside, a gentle rain fell, and Kyle and Dylan instinctively shivered at the unusual feeling of drops of cold water striking their bare skin. Dylan glanced down and saw that his white briefs were getting wet, though not yet completely transparent.
Kyle headed for the pickup truck's passenger door, but the custodian jerked his leash.
"No, scrub, back there," he said, pointing to the pickup truck bed.
Kyle and Dylan sat in the back of the pickup truck, their shirtless torsos on display to anyone who drove past, and the seats of their underwear immediately getting soaked when they sat on the wet metal.
The truck stopped at the Student Resources Building. The custodian hopped out, unhooked the chain from Dylan's collar, and made him get out of the truck.
Dylan's heart was racing. He looked at the building, the very familiar building, the building where he had spent so many hours of his life. Then he looked down at the white briefs he was wearing, his bare feet. He felt the slave collar on his neck now, tighter and more painfully than before.
No, Dylan wanted to say, don't make me work in that building. Not like this. Not now.
"You're over here," the custodian said, leading Dylan by the neck.
To Dylan's relief he wasn't brought inside the building, but behind it. There, in the dirt and the grass there was a huge, muddy puddle.
"The drain is clogged. Climb in there and clear it out," the custodian ordered Dylan, untying his hands.
Dylan realized where he was, now. Many times he had looked down on this patch of trees and the nice stream from the windows of the newspaper office. He had never actually been down here himself.
Then Dylan saw it. Tristan, a photographer for the newspaper, was at the window, his camera pointing straight at Dylan.
Might as well get this over with, Dylan thought. He stepped toward the muddy puddle.
"No, dipshit, not while you're wearing those. It costs money to wash your underwear. Strip those off first, and go in naked," the custodian ordered, holding out his hand.
Dylan's heart raced. He thought about Tristan up above. But he knew he couldn't disobey a command. He took off his briefs, handed them to the custodian, and waded in, naked.
The puddle was deeper, colder, and more slippery than Dylan imagined, and he quickly lost his footing and fell into the mud. He got up again and fell again. Slowly, he made his way into the muck. The mixture of water and mud coated his body now, and the mess had gotten onto his face and started to obscure his vision. His hair was caked with mud and whatever else was in this awful puddle, and he felt thick streams of brown liquid slowly dripping down his forehead and onto his face.
Stepping slowly, Dylan advanced to where the clog seemed to be. To reach it he had to hold his breath and go under the water. Reaching out with his hand he found a bundle of sticks and leaves and pulled at it. He stood and threw the leaves away, then got back in to grab the rest.
The clog was cleared now, and the puddle was shrinking. Dylan began to walk out of the water, but slipped again, coating his body in a fresh layer of mud.
As Dylan stood he noticed for the first time that Tristan, the photographer, was now right next to the custodian, and was taking many shots of Dylan, naked and coated in mud.
Dylan could only stand there. He knew the rules. He couldn't speak unless spoken to. When naked he was not allowed to cover his dick with his hands. Dylan stood there, feeling the mud ooze over his skin, smelling the stink of all of it, and experiencing the deepest sense of humiliation and powerlessness in his life.
Tristan snapped five more photos, getting new angles of Dylan's naked body. Then he talked to the custodian:
"Up in the newspaper office we need some help from a scrub. Can we borrow this one?," Tristan said.
"I've got another clean one back in the truck, if you prefer," the custodian said.
"Nah, this one will be fine," Tristan said.
"OK, but if I'm letting you take him, I have to get him ready," the custodian said.
He removed a rope from the pocket of his overalls and ordered Dylan to assume the position. Dylan held his hands behind his back, wrists crossed at his shoulder blades, and the custodian tied Dylan's wrists together there and then tied the other end of the rope to the ring in Dylan's slave collar.
The custodian then re-attached Dylan's leash, and handed it to Tristan.
"Thanks. Want us to send him back to the gym when he's done?," Tristan asked.
"Yeah, if I'm not still out here. I've got another scrub to put to work, still," the custodian said.
Tristan grabbed the collar and stared into Dylan's miserable eyes.
"Come on, scrub," Tristan said, smiling as he pulled Dylan toward the student resources building.
Scrub, Dylan thought. Tristan damn well knew his name. Dylan and Tristan had a long history, with Dylan repeatedly and patiently explaining to Tristan why his photos were unusable, why Tristan needed to shape up, and so on.
This was too much, Dylan thought. He had to quit this undercover scrub thing now. He had to tell the custodian, wait, I'm not actually a scrub, the college president gave me this collar so that I could investigate the scrub program. Don't leave me to this vengeful fucker, who knows what he's about to do to me when I'm naked and vulnerable and tied up and covered with mud.
But a glimmer of hope still existed for Dylan, because he realized, he was about to be led to the one guy on campus who could save him: Riley, his reporter, the only other guy who knew Dylan was undercover. Riley, who held the key to Dylan's collar, and could set him free from this slavery immediately.
"Holy shit," Dylan heard, as Tristan slowly paraded him down the hall, past other student extracurricular offices. Dylan saw all the eyes on him but kept his gaze straight forward and downward to the ground, like scrubs were trained to do.
Then they arrived at the door to the newspaper office. Dylan sucked in his breath.
"Hold on. Stand right here," Tristan said.
Tristan positioned Dylan so that he was standing right next to the sign that said these were the newspaper offices. Then Tristan started taking more photos, of Dylan naked, his head bowed, standing next to that sign. Tristan ordered Dylan to raise his head, so that the photos could show his face.
"Pretty memorable photos, huh? I wonder if the editor will say these are good enough to publish," Tristan said.
Tristan opened the newspaper's office door and then pushed Dylan inside. He pushed him hard. It was unexpected. Dylan stumbled and almost fell.
Dylan stood and faced the office. It was a large room with space for seven desks. Dylan saw that, of course, the office was full right now, with Dylan's staff sitting at all the desks. That was weird, Dylan thought. The office is almost never this full.
Dylan trembled, both from the cold of the muddy water that was still on his skin and from the terror and humiliation of his situation. He felt the whole room staring at him, at his muddy body, at his dick, at his tiny helpless ass, at the slave collar and leash he was forced to wear.
Tristan was taking more photos now. He took photos from behind Dylan, showing Dylan's bare ass and Dylan standing in front of the room full of his gaping newspaper staff.
"Come on, scrub, the editor wants to see you," Tristan said, and pulled Dylan's leash.
But I am the editor, Dylan thought. Dylan was led to the editor's office, the only private office in this space, a small room with a door and a big window that looked out on the other desks. There, where his name was normally on the door, he saw a crude handwritten sign with Riley's name taped over the permanent sign that had Dylan's name.
Tristan knocked, opened the door, and pushed Dylan inside.
"Thanks, Tristan, please close the door," Riley said, and Tristan did.
"Riley, thank god, you've got to get me out of this," Dylan said, as he started to sit.
"Hold on! Don't sit down, Dylan. Everyone's watching. You have to keep pretending to be a scrub," Riley said.
Dylan remained standing, his back turned to the window so that the whole office could stare at his mud-caked ass and his bound hands.
"Do you have the key? Get me out of this collar," Dylan said.
"Are you done with your investigation? Tell me what you've got," Dylan said.
Dylan inhaled and started describing what he had seen in the gym. He talked about the humiliating auction he had seen where scrubs were being sold to alumni, and how he'd seen Tom Barrowmore stripped and led away naked, apparently purchased by a local businessman who was also an alumni.
"OK, what else?," Riley asked.
"What else? That's enough!," Dylan said.
Riley shook his head.
"Everyone knows work details are part of being a scrub. It's part of the punishment, the humiliation," Riley said.
"But that guy was being sold off for sex!," Dylan said.
"What was his name?," Riley said.
"I told you--Tom, Tom Barrowmore, the gymnast," Dylan said.
Riley laughed.
"Tom? Have a look at this story we're about to run!," Riley said.
Riley spun his monitor around and showed Dylan the story. The headline said "Athlete Describes Benefits of Scrub Program." It featured a photo of Tom, fully dressed and smiling. The story quoted Tom saying that being a scrub was a wonderful, enriching experience. "It made be a better, more honorable man. It's an experience I'll never forget!," Tom was quoted in the article.
"This is a ridiculous puff piece!," Dylan cried out.
Riley remained silent. Dylan realized he had just screwed up. He, a scrub, had raised his voice.
"President Rush, are you there?," Riley asked aloud.
Over the speakerphone, the college president answered: "Yes."
"I don't think Dylan's undercover work is done yet, do you?," Riley said.
"I'm sorry, no. We need more, Dylan. I'm disappointed in you," the President said.
The President hung up.
"You're- you're working with him," Dylan accused.
"Dylan, it's been hard on everyone since you dishonored the paper by becoming a scrub. I have indeed stepped up as the new editor, and I've worked hard to make sure our coverage of the scrub program is balanced and fair. I'm sorry that you don't like our profile of Tom. But maybe you'll be interested in this story, which shows the less pleasant side of the scrub program," Riley said, pulling up another story on his monitor.
The headline was "Editor Dylan Patterson Forced To Work Naked," and the photo was one Tristan had just taken outside, showing Dylan covered with mud with his cock exposed.
"You wouldn't!," Dylan cried.
"Dylan, we're journalists here. We must impartially present the truth to our audience. I'm sorry if this is humiliating for you, but your experience is an important news story," Riley said.
"You know damn well--," Dylan started, but then he saw the stern look on Riley's face. Dylan, for the thousandth time that day, nervously felt at his slave collar.
Riley cleared his throat.
"I realize this has been stressful for you, but that in no way excuses you raising your voice at me," Riley said.
Riley stood. Dylan cowered.
"Turn around and face the window, and bend over," Riley said.
Dylan turned around. He saw the entire newspaper office looking at him through the window. He bent forward.
Riley spanked him, hard, then spanked him again, then three more times. Dylan saw smiles and suppressed giggles as the newspaper staff watched his face wince from the pain.
With the final spank Riley left his hand on Dylan's muddy ass, and leaned forward.
"This was all for show. Hope I didn't hurt you much. I'm still on your side. But keep up appearances or we both get into trouble. Just play along, and soon all those people out there gawking at you will realize what a hero you've been all along," Riley said.
Then Riley opened the door and led Dylan outside into the work floor of the newspaper. Riley made him kneel. Dylan knelt in the middle of the floor, surrounded by his staff.
"Scrub, apologize to your staff for dishonoring them," Riley commanded.
Dylan mumbled an apology, hanging his head.
"Good. Now, bend down and lick the floor," Dylan said.
Dylan's rage welled up inside him but he had no choice. He bent forward, extended his tongue, and licked the floor. The sour taste filled his mouth.
Riley motioned to Tristan.
"Take this stinking scrub out of here. Make him walk back to the gym naked. Think of this rain as a free shower, scrub," Riley said, and smacked Dylan on the ass once more.
Riley watched Dylan leave. Then he picked up the phone on his desk and pushed the green button twice to redial the last number. President Rush answered.
"I think we have a problem. I think he is going to talk," Riley said.
"Understood. We'll have to send him someplace where he'll be kept quiet, then," President Rush said.
Kyle's body ached. It ached from the sex with Rick and Tony. It ached from the physical labor he'd had to do immediately afterwards, scrubbing the history department's floors on his hands and knees. The aching now made it easier for Kyle now to stand still. Kyle was back in the North Gym, standing in the middle of a racquetball court. Next to him was Dylan Patterson and Tom Barrowmore. Like Kyle, Dylan and Tom wore only a pair of white briefs and a slave collar. All three were also tied up, their hands tied behind their backs with an end of the rope going to a ring in the backs of their slave collars.
This was called the "waiting room," where scrubs with no assignment waited to be picked. The room used to be a racquetball court, and it still had a glass observation area up above. Kyle knew there were people up there, staring at the near-naked, tied up scrubs below, but he could not make out who.
Dylan was vaguely familiar to Kyle. As far as Kyle could tell, Dylan was a tall, skinny scrub with a big bulge in the front of his briefs. Unlike most of the other scrubs Kyle had seen, Dylan was not ripped, and in fact was not really muscular at all. Dylan was obviously deeply uncomfortable standing around in just his underwear. A guy like Dylan, Kyle thought, was more used to keeping his body private.
Next to both of them was Tom Barrowmore, another scrub stripped to just white briefs. Tom was absolutely ripped. He was on the gymnastics team, or the wrestling team, or something like that. Tom was so strikingly built, and so handsome, that Kyle felt inferior next to him. Kyle felt about Tom the way Dylan probably felt about Kyle; he was standing next to a clearly superior physical specimen.
Kyle decided to break the monotony with some conversation, even though, strictly speaking, scrubs were required to be quiet.
"Been here long?," Kyle whispered to Tom.
"I've been a scrub longer than I care to admit, but that's about to change," Tom replied, also in a whisper.
Tom twisted around to show off his lower back. It featured two signatures.
Kyle whistled.
"How'd you get those?," Kyle asked.
Tom laughed.
"You haven't figured it out yet? Come on, you know what all this is about," Tom said, motioning with his head to where they were standing, to Kyle's underwear, and to his slave collar.
Kyle laughed.
"Yeah, I guess I do. I was scrubbing the floors in the history department's building today. A professor passed so I had to kneel. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me how sorry he felt for me, how awful he thought the scrub program was, and then he offered to get me assigned to his house for the evening, for, he said, special rest and relaxation," Kyle said.
"I'm surprised they have you doing shit like scrubbing floors. A guy like you, you'll probably get selected for special duty, like I was," Tom said.
Kyle blushed a bit at the "guy like you" compliment.
The door opened and Eddie, the scrub with the clipboard, walked in. Next to him was a custodian, dressed in overalls.
"Barrowmore, you've got a work assignment. Probably your last. Congratulations. Head outside," Eddie said.
Tom smiled and nodded and walked toward the front door.
"One second, you're not going to need these," Eddie said.
Eddie pulled down Tom's white briefs, and then casually shot them like a rubber band across the room, where they landed perfectly in a trash can.
Kyle snuck a peek at Tom's cock, which, as he guessed, was long and thick.
"I live to serve," Tom said, with a big smile. He playfully jiggled his dick and then, naked and tied up, happily walked out of the room.
Eddie turned to the custodian.
"How many do you need?," Eddie asked him.
"Two. Two guys called in sick, today," the custodian said.
There were three other scrubs in line besides Kyle and Dylan, and they nervously shrank from the custodian's view, trying to hide their bodies as if they were teenage boys in a locker room suddenly raided by girls.
Eddie pointed at Kyle and Dylan.
"Kyle here was talking, so he clearly needs more work. And Dylan hasn't done much of anything yet. How about them?," Eddie asked.
"Fine, whatever. As long as they'll work," the custodian said.
Kyle sighed. Not this again.
Eddie took a chain. He connected one end to the front of Dylan's collar and the other end to the back of Kyle's. The chain was about three feet long. Then Eddie took a dog leash and attached it to the front of Kyle's collar, and handed the collar to the custodian.
"There you go, please report any discipline problems," Eddie said.
The custodian shrugged and grabbed the leash and led the two tied-up scrubs out of the racquetball court. Kyle and Dylan were not used to being dragged around by their necks. They both stumbled, with Dylan almost falling into Kyle. But the custodian didn't care. He led them out of the gym, then towards a grounds crew pickup truck.
Outside, a gentle rain fell, and Kyle and Dylan instinctively shivered at the unusual feeling of drops of cold water striking their bare skin. Dylan glanced down and saw that his white briefs were getting wet, though not yet completely transparent.
Kyle headed for the pickup truck's passenger door, but the custodian jerked his leash.
"No, scrub, back there," he said, pointing to the pickup truck bed.
Kyle and Dylan sat in the back of the pickup truck, their shirtless torsos on display to anyone who drove past, and the seats of their underwear immediately getting soaked when they sat on the wet metal.
The truck stopped at the Student Resources Building. The custodian hopped out, unhooked the chain from Dylan's collar, and made him get out of the truck.
Dylan's heart was racing. He looked at the building, the very familiar building, the building where he had spent so many hours of his life. Then he looked down at the white briefs he was wearing, his bare feet. He felt the slave collar on his neck now, tighter and more painfully than before.
No, Dylan wanted to say, don't make me work in that building. Not like this. Not now.
"You're over here," the custodian said, leading Dylan by the neck.
To Dylan's relief he wasn't brought inside the building, but behind it. There, in the dirt and the grass there was a huge, muddy puddle.
"The drain is clogged. Climb in there and clear it out," the custodian ordered Dylan, untying his hands.
Dylan realized where he was, now. Many times he had looked down on this patch of trees and the nice stream from the windows of the newspaper office. He had never actually been down here himself.
Then Dylan saw it. Tristan, a photographer for the newspaper, was at the window, his camera pointing straight at Dylan.
Might as well get this over with, Dylan thought. He stepped toward the muddy puddle.
"No, dipshit, not while you're wearing those. It costs money to wash your underwear. Strip those off first, and go in naked," the custodian ordered, holding out his hand.
Dylan's heart raced. He thought about Tristan up above. But he knew he couldn't disobey a command. He took off his briefs, handed them to the custodian, and waded in, naked.
The puddle was deeper, colder, and more slippery than Dylan imagined, and he quickly lost his footing and fell into the mud. He got up again and fell again. Slowly, he made his way into the muck. The mixture of water and mud coated his body now, and the mess had gotten onto his face and started to obscure his vision. His hair was caked with mud and whatever else was in this awful puddle, and he felt thick streams of brown liquid slowly dripping down his forehead and onto his face.
Stepping slowly, Dylan advanced to where the clog seemed to be. To reach it he had to hold his breath and go under the water. Reaching out with his hand he found a bundle of sticks and leaves and pulled at it. He stood and threw the leaves away, then got back in to grab the rest.
The clog was cleared now, and the puddle was shrinking. Dylan began to walk out of the water, but slipped again, coating his body in a fresh layer of mud.
As Dylan stood he noticed for the first time that Tristan, the photographer, was now right next to the custodian, and was taking many shots of Dylan, naked and coated in mud.
Dylan could only stand there. He knew the rules. He couldn't speak unless spoken to. When naked he was not allowed to cover his dick with his hands. Dylan stood there, feeling the mud ooze over his skin, smelling the stink of all of it, and experiencing the deepest sense of humiliation and powerlessness in his life.
Tristan snapped five more photos, getting new angles of Dylan's naked body. Then he talked to the custodian:
"Up in the newspaper office we need some help from a scrub. Can we borrow this one?," Tristan said.
"I've got another clean one back in the truck, if you prefer," the custodian said.
"Nah, this one will be fine," Tristan said.
"OK, but if I'm letting you take him, I have to get him ready," the custodian said.
He removed a rope from the pocket of his overalls and ordered Dylan to assume the position. Dylan held his hands behind his back, wrists crossed at his shoulder blades, and the custodian tied Dylan's wrists together there and then tied the other end of the rope to the ring in Dylan's slave collar.
The custodian then re-attached Dylan's leash, and handed it to Tristan.
"Thanks. Want us to send him back to the gym when he's done?," Tristan asked.
"Yeah, if I'm not still out here. I've got another scrub to put to work, still," the custodian said.
Tristan grabbed the collar and stared into Dylan's miserable eyes.
"Come on, scrub," Tristan said, smiling as he pulled Dylan toward the student resources building.
Scrub, Dylan thought. Tristan damn well knew his name. Dylan and Tristan had a long history, with Dylan repeatedly and patiently explaining to Tristan why his photos were unusable, why Tristan needed to shape up, and so on.
This was too much, Dylan thought. He had to quit this undercover scrub thing now. He had to tell the custodian, wait, I'm not actually a scrub, the college president gave me this collar so that I could investigate the scrub program. Don't leave me to this vengeful fucker, who knows what he's about to do to me when I'm naked and vulnerable and tied up and covered with mud.
But a glimmer of hope still existed for Dylan, because he realized, he was about to be led to the one guy on campus who could save him: Riley, his reporter, the only other guy who knew Dylan was undercover. Riley, who held the key to Dylan's collar, and could set him free from this slavery immediately.
"Holy shit," Dylan heard, as Tristan slowly paraded him down the hall, past other student extracurricular offices. Dylan saw all the eyes on him but kept his gaze straight forward and downward to the ground, like scrubs were trained to do.
Then they arrived at the door to the newspaper office. Dylan sucked in his breath.
"Hold on. Stand right here," Tristan said.
Tristan positioned Dylan so that he was standing right next to the sign that said these were the newspaper offices. Then Tristan started taking more photos, of Dylan naked, his head bowed, standing next to that sign. Tristan ordered Dylan to raise his head, so that the photos could show his face.
"Pretty memorable photos, huh? I wonder if the editor will say these are good enough to publish," Tristan said.
Tristan opened the newspaper's office door and then pushed Dylan inside. He pushed him hard. It was unexpected. Dylan stumbled and almost fell.
Dylan stood and faced the office. It was a large room with space for seven desks. Dylan saw that, of course, the office was full right now, with Dylan's staff sitting at all the desks. That was weird, Dylan thought. The office is almost never this full.
Dylan trembled, both from the cold of the muddy water that was still on his skin and from the terror and humiliation of his situation. He felt the whole room staring at him, at his muddy body, at his dick, at his tiny helpless ass, at the slave collar and leash he was forced to wear.
Tristan was taking more photos now. He took photos from behind Dylan, showing Dylan's bare ass and Dylan standing in front of the room full of his gaping newspaper staff.
"Come on, scrub, the editor wants to see you," Tristan said, and pulled Dylan's leash.
But I am the editor, Dylan thought. Dylan was led to the editor's office, the only private office in this space, a small room with a door and a big window that looked out on the other desks. There, where his name was normally on the door, he saw a crude handwritten sign with Riley's name taped over the permanent sign that had Dylan's name.
Tristan knocked, opened the door, and pushed Dylan inside.
"Thanks, Tristan, please close the door," Riley said, and Tristan did.
"Riley, thank god, you've got to get me out of this," Dylan said, as he started to sit.
"Hold on! Don't sit down, Dylan. Everyone's watching. You have to keep pretending to be a scrub," Riley said.
Dylan remained standing, his back turned to the window so that the whole office could stare at his mud-caked ass and his bound hands.
"Do you have the key? Get me out of this collar," Dylan said.
"Are you done with your investigation? Tell me what you've got," Dylan said.
Dylan inhaled and started describing what he had seen in the gym. He talked about the humiliating auction he had seen where scrubs were being sold to alumni, and how he'd seen Tom Barrowmore stripped and led away naked, apparently purchased by a local businessman who was also an alumni.
"OK, what else?," Riley asked.
"What else? That's enough!," Dylan said.
Riley shook his head.
"Everyone knows work details are part of being a scrub. It's part of the punishment, the humiliation," Riley said.
"But that guy was being sold off for sex!," Dylan said.
"What was his name?," Riley said.
"I told you--Tom, Tom Barrowmore, the gymnast," Dylan said.
Riley laughed.
"Tom? Have a look at this story we're about to run!," Riley said.
Riley spun his monitor around and showed Dylan the story. The headline said "Athlete Describes Benefits of Scrub Program." It featured a photo of Tom, fully dressed and smiling. The story quoted Tom saying that being a scrub was a wonderful, enriching experience. "It made be a better, more honorable man. It's an experience I'll never forget!," Tom was quoted in the article.
"This is a ridiculous puff piece!," Dylan cried out.
Riley remained silent. Dylan realized he had just screwed up. He, a scrub, had raised his voice.
"President Rush, are you there?," Riley asked aloud.
Over the speakerphone, the college president answered: "Yes."
"I don't think Dylan's undercover work is done yet, do you?," Riley said.
"I'm sorry, no. We need more, Dylan. I'm disappointed in you," the President said.
The President hung up.
"You're- you're working with him," Dylan accused.
"Dylan, it's been hard on everyone since you dishonored the paper by becoming a scrub. I have indeed stepped up as the new editor, and I've worked hard to make sure our coverage of the scrub program is balanced and fair. I'm sorry that you don't like our profile of Tom. But maybe you'll be interested in this story, which shows the less pleasant side of the scrub program," Riley said, pulling up another story on his monitor.
The headline was "Editor Dylan Patterson Forced To Work Naked," and the photo was one Tristan had just taken outside, showing Dylan covered with mud with his cock exposed.
"You wouldn't!," Dylan cried.
"Dylan, we're journalists here. We must impartially present the truth to our audience. I'm sorry if this is humiliating for you, but your experience is an important news story," Riley said.
"You know damn well--," Dylan started, but then he saw the stern look on Riley's face. Dylan, for the thousandth time that day, nervously felt at his slave collar.
Riley cleared his throat.
"I realize this has been stressful for you, but that in no way excuses you raising your voice at me," Riley said.
Riley stood. Dylan cowered.
"Turn around and face the window, and bend over," Riley said.
Dylan turned around. He saw the entire newspaper office looking at him through the window. He bent forward.
Riley spanked him, hard, then spanked him again, then three more times. Dylan saw smiles and suppressed giggles as the newspaper staff watched his face wince from the pain.
With the final spank Riley left his hand on Dylan's muddy ass, and leaned forward.
"This was all for show. Hope I didn't hurt you much. I'm still on your side. But keep up appearances or we both get into trouble. Just play along, and soon all those people out there gawking at you will realize what a hero you've been all along," Riley said.
Then Riley opened the door and led Dylan outside into the work floor of the newspaper. Riley made him kneel. Dylan knelt in the middle of the floor, surrounded by his staff.
"Scrub, apologize to your staff for dishonoring them," Riley commanded.
Dylan mumbled an apology, hanging his head.
"Good. Now, bend down and lick the floor," Dylan said.
Dylan's rage welled up inside him but he had no choice. He bent forward, extended his tongue, and licked the floor. The sour taste filled his mouth.
Riley motioned to Tristan.
"Take this stinking scrub out of here. Make him walk back to the gym naked. Think of this rain as a free shower, scrub," Riley said, and smacked Dylan on the ass once more.
Riley watched Dylan leave. Then he picked up the phone on his desk and pushed the green button twice to redial the last number. President Rush answered.
"I think we have a problem. I think he is going to talk," Riley said.
"Understood. We'll have to send him someplace where he'll be kept quiet, then," President Rush said.
-
Guardianbound
- Centennial Club
- Posts: 700
- Joined: 2 years ago
I'm late to the party but i just caught up and I'm loving this story!! Keep it coming 
I suspect that Riley will have unrestricted access to wherever they plan on sending Dylan...
And my goodness, everyone seems to want a piece of Kyle! Can't wait for more!
And my goodness, everyone seems to want a piece of Kyle! Can't wait for more!
Chapter 6: The Concerned Alum
Steve's heart was pounding, not only because he had the most important job interview of his life today, an interview he'd been angling to get for almost two years, but because he had to do it in his underwear.
Steve walked up to the career center slowly. With each step he felt his glutes straining against the tight white briefs he was wearing. He knew that other guys were seeing him like this, laughing at him, but he mentally was blocking them all out.
In front of him, though, wearing a perfect interview suit and a college tie, was Mark.
"Hey, scrub. Did you wear your best undies for this interview? Appearances matter, you know," Mark said.
Steve grimaced and stared down at the small white briefs he was wearing.
"I've got a surprise for you. I brought a spare necktie," Mark said, and removed it from his pocket.
Steve stared at it and his heart skipped a beat.
"Oh wait, I guess you're not allowed to wear one, right? Well, I'll just hang it here on the door," Mark said, tying the tie to the outside entrance to the career resources building.
Mark, somehow, had learned the rule. When a necktie was tied on a doorknob, scrubs had to strip off their underwear before passing through.
"No--Mark, come on, that's not necessary, it's just cruel. You knocked me down to being a scrub, I have to do this interview in my underwear, there's no way I'm beating you for the job now, OK? You win. Just let me keep this small scrap of dignity," Steve said, tugging at his waistband.
"Strip, scrub. I'm nowhere near through with you," Mark said, glaring.
Steve and Mark had known each other since high school. Scenes from their relationship ran through Steve's head. He thought about how the friendship turned into a friendly rivalry and then into outright competition in college. He did not know at what point Mark decided to hate him but knew from the look in Mark's eyes that had happened.
Steve took off the white briefs he was wearing, stripping himself naked except for his slave collar.
"Good boy," Mark said, soothingly.
Now Mark took out a thin rope from his pocket.
"No, come on, you don't need to tie me up, too," Steve protested.
"Oh, I do," Mark said.
Steve assumed the position: he folded his hands behind his back at the shoulder blades. Mark tied his wrists together there, then tied the other end of the rope to a ring on Steve's slave collar.
"Let's get going, scrub. You don't want to be late for your job interview," Mark said.
Mark spanked Steve to urge him forward.
The hallway outside the interview rooms was lined with chairs. Eager students, all wearing suits and ties, sat in most of them. As Steve walked past them naked and tied up, some pretended not to notice, but some reached out to spank him, some guys slow clapped, and several guys snickered.
As a scrub, Steve wasn't permitted to sit on a chair. Mark made him kneel. Mark then took the seat directly across from him. Steve could see Mark staring directly at Steve's dick.
"You fuck many girls with that thing, or just my sister?," Mark asked.
That shocked Steve. What? Mark thought that Steve had done that? Wait a minute, did Mark have more than one sister? Steve started thinking harder. . .
"Mr. Collins and Mr. Rasmussen, please," a clerk called out.
Mark stood. He and Steve looked at each other.
"Both of us at once?," Mark asked.
"Yes. Interview room 4," the clerk said.
"Even better than I was hoping for. Come along, scrub, to our joint interview," Mark said. Mark hooked a finger into Steve's slave collar and pulled him forward, leading him down the hall to a door marked with #4. He knocked, heard "come in," and walked in, leading Steve in behind him.
Jim Southwick sat at the desk, looking at his phone. He had graduated from Dixon just four years ago, and already, at age 25, was the founder and CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.
Southwick was engrossed in whatever was on that phone screen, and did not look at Mark or Steve when they walked in. Steve closed the door, making a noise, and Southwick looked up.
"Thanks for coming in guys. My name is Jim Southwick, and- - holy shit!" He said in surprise, as he looked up from his phone and saw Steve's naked body for the first time.
Hours later, Jim Southwick was sitting in President Rush's office.
"President Rush, it was the weirdest job interview I've ever done here. One of your students arrived naked with his hands tied behind his back," Jim Southwick said.
President Rush nodded.
"He was a scrub, then. Probably made to strip off his briefs by another student," President Rush said.
At that moment there was a knock on President Rush's door. Kyle leaned his pretty face and bare shoulders into view.
"President Rush? Are you ready for your tea?," Kyle said.
Kyle, a few hours ago, had been "discovered." The custodian had dropped him off in front of the President's office planning to make him do some yard work. But someone spotted him, and it was determined he should be assigned permanently to the President's office. They didn't explain to Kyle why he was picked, but he could guess. Kyle knew how he looked.
Kyle was overall happy with his new assignment. He wasn't thrilled that there was a necktie on the front door of the building, forcing him and all scrubs to be naked inside. But at least this place was nicer than the North Gym.
"Thank you, scrub, please bring it in," President Rush said.
Southwick did not notice Kyle at first and kept talking:
"Well, in fact, Steve was naked because he was competing for the job against Mark, a truly ruthless individual. Mark reported Steve for some minor infraction and got him turned into a scrub," Southwick said.
Kyle pretended not to hear, but listened to every word Southwick was saying about his roommate, Steve, and about Mark, the guy who had also turned Kyle into a scrub.
"I'm sure Mark's motivations were based on upholding the honor code for the entire school," President Rush said.
"Well, actually, no. I asked Mark why I should hire him instead of Steve, the naked guy. And Mark said something like: 'Because I've beaten Steve. He's naked in front of you in this job interview because of me. He's the laughingstock of campus because of me. He's going to spend probably the next month on his hands and knees scrubbing the cafeteria floor while his friends eat lunch around him, seeing him as a slave rather than a student,'" Southwick said.
"And what did Steve say?," President Rush said.
"I asked Steve why I should hire him instead of Marl. Steve just nodded at Mark and said, 'Because this guy is an asshole,'" Southwick said.
They both laughed at that. Kyle was now kneeling naked, his back to the wall, awaiting instructions.
"Look, President Rush, I've got to ask; why is there a fucking naked adonis in your office serving you tea? You know how this looks?," Southwick said.
"Why, I don't know what you mean," President Rush said.
"I give this college an awful lot of money, and I've got a right to be concerned, here. Parents don't send their sons to this place so that they can be turned into sex slaves," Southwick said, motioning at Kyle.
"Scrubs aren't sex slaves. No one is allowed to order them to do anything sexual," President Rush said.
"Right, they're just forced to beg for other students to sign their backs, usually in exchange for sex. Am I right, scrub? How many times have you been fucked since you were made a scrub?," Southwick asked, looking at Kyle.
"Please respect Kyle's privacy. He doesn't have to answer that. Anyway, what scrubs agree to do, is their own concern. We take away most of their freedom, but they're still free to choose whether and with whom to have sex," President Rush said.
"Got it. Look, you know I'm president of the alumni association, right? And I've got connections with more than half the board that appoints you. You should listen to me when I say, the scrub program needs to stop," Southwick said.
Suddenly, Kyle raised his hand. The motion surprised both Southwick and the President.
"Yes, Kyle, do you wish to speak? Speak freely," President Rush said.
"Thank you, President Rush. Mr. Southwick, sir, I think you might be dismissing the scrub program too easily. Being a scrub has made me a better man, and I'm so appreciative to President Rush for this opportunity," Kyle said.
Southwick rolled his eyes at the obvious ass-kissing. President Rush calmly sipped his tea.
"Humor us for an afternoon. President Rush, if you permit it, I will be Mr. Southwick's escort around campus. I'll take him wherever he wants to go. I want him to see for himself how scrubs live and are treated," Kyle said.
"What do you say, Jay?," the President asked.
"OK, but, he gets his underwear back, right?," Southwick said.
"It will be waiting for him outside, right where he left it. No one steals here. It would be an honor code violation," President Rush said.
As soon as they were outside, Kyle pulled his underwear on and, not asking Southwick where he wanted to go, started walking north.
"In answer to your question, I fucked two guys, at once, and it was glorious," Kyle said to Southwick.
"OK, congratulations, I believe you," Southwick said, amused by how the shy little naked scrub had suddenly transformed.
"Good, then believe this: This scrub program isn't all bullshit, but it needs fixing," Kyle said.
They turned the corner and entered a large courtyard that was the center of the campus, where hundreds of students crossed through each hour. There, tied to a statue in the center, was Steve. His arms were stretched over his head and his ankles tied to a spreader. His mouth was gagged, but other than that and the slave collar he wore absolutely nothing.
Southwick nodded at Steve as he passed him. Steve, already mortified, visibly reddened with embarrassment.
"Exactly as you were saying," Southwick said to Kyle.
"Hang in there buddy, help is on the way," Kyle said to Steve, patting him on the ass as they passed.
"I guess Mark is pissed off he didn't get the job," Southwick said.
Kyle smiled.
"Where are we headed?," Southwick asked.
"North gym. We're almost there. There's someone you have to talk to," Kyle said.
They passed a group of scrubs crouched on all fours, weeding the lawn, and came to the entrance of the north gym. Eddie, the scrub with a clipboard, looked up quizzically.
"I thought you were with the President's office now," Eddie said to Kyle.
"I am, and the President wants Mr. Southwick here to meet with a scrub," Kyle said.
"OK, which one?," Eddie asked.
"Dylan Patterson," Kyle said.
Eddie lowered his clipboard and frowned.
"The newspaper editor?," Eddie asked.
"Right," said Kyle.
"You're late. They took him away last night. You should have seen it. The honor guard stripped that arrogant prick naked, locked a horse bit into his mouth, loaded him into a hog trailer, and drove off with him," Eddie said.
"You mean--"
"Yeah. He's been transferred up north, to the Agricultural Resource Center," Eddie said.
Steve's heart was pounding, not only because he had the most important job interview of his life today, an interview he'd been angling to get for almost two years, but because he had to do it in his underwear.
Steve walked up to the career center slowly. With each step he felt his glutes straining against the tight white briefs he was wearing. He knew that other guys were seeing him like this, laughing at him, but he mentally was blocking them all out.
In front of him, though, wearing a perfect interview suit and a college tie, was Mark.
"Hey, scrub. Did you wear your best undies for this interview? Appearances matter, you know," Mark said.
Steve grimaced and stared down at the small white briefs he was wearing.
"I've got a surprise for you. I brought a spare necktie," Mark said, and removed it from his pocket.
Steve stared at it and his heart skipped a beat.
"Oh wait, I guess you're not allowed to wear one, right? Well, I'll just hang it here on the door," Mark said, tying the tie to the outside entrance to the career resources building.
Mark, somehow, had learned the rule. When a necktie was tied on a doorknob, scrubs had to strip off their underwear before passing through.
"No--Mark, come on, that's not necessary, it's just cruel. You knocked me down to being a scrub, I have to do this interview in my underwear, there's no way I'm beating you for the job now, OK? You win. Just let me keep this small scrap of dignity," Steve said, tugging at his waistband.
"Strip, scrub. I'm nowhere near through with you," Mark said, glaring.
Steve and Mark had known each other since high school. Scenes from their relationship ran through Steve's head. He thought about how the friendship turned into a friendly rivalry and then into outright competition in college. He did not know at what point Mark decided to hate him but knew from the look in Mark's eyes that had happened.
Steve took off the white briefs he was wearing, stripping himself naked except for his slave collar.
"Good boy," Mark said, soothingly.
Now Mark took out a thin rope from his pocket.
"No, come on, you don't need to tie me up, too," Steve protested.
"Oh, I do," Mark said.
Steve assumed the position: he folded his hands behind his back at the shoulder blades. Mark tied his wrists together there, then tied the other end of the rope to a ring on Steve's slave collar.
"Let's get going, scrub. You don't want to be late for your job interview," Mark said.
Mark spanked Steve to urge him forward.
The hallway outside the interview rooms was lined with chairs. Eager students, all wearing suits and ties, sat in most of them. As Steve walked past them naked and tied up, some pretended not to notice, but some reached out to spank him, some guys slow clapped, and several guys snickered.
As a scrub, Steve wasn't permitted to sit on a chair. Mark made him kneel. Mark then took the seat directly across from him. Steve could see Mark staring directly at Steve's dick.
"You fuck many girls with that thing, or just my sister?," Mark asked.
That shocked Steve. What? Mark thought that Steve had done that? Wait a minute, did Mark have more than one sister? Steve started thinking harder. . .
"Mr. Collins and Mr. Rasmussen, please," a clerk called out.
Mark stood. He and Steve looked at each other.
"Both of us at once?," Mark asked.
"Yes. Interview room 4," the clerk said.
"Even better than I was hoping for. Come along, scrub, to our joint interview," Mark said. Mark hooked a finger into Steve's slave collar and pulled him forward, leading him down the hall to a door marked with #4. He knocked, heard "come in," and walked in, leading Steve in behind him.
Jim Southwick sat at the desk, looking at his phone. He had graduated from Dixon just four years ago, and already, at age 25, was the founder and CEO of a multi-billion dollar company.
Southwick was engrossed in whatever was on that phone screen, and did not look at Mark or Steve when they walked in. Steve closed the door, making a noise, and Southwick looked up.
"Thanks for coming in guys. My name is Jim Southwick, and- - holy shit!" He said in surprise, as he looked up from his phone and saw Steve's naked body for the first time.
Hours later, Jim Southwick was sitting in President Rush's office.
"President Rush, it was the weirdest job interview I've ever done here. One of your students arrived naked with his hands tied behind his back," Jim Southwick said.
President Rush nodded.
"He was a scrub, then. Probably made to strip off his briefs by another student," President Rush said.
At that moment there was a knock on President Rush's door. Kyle leaned his pretty face and bare shoulders into view.
"President Rush? Are you ready for your tea?," Kyle said.
Kyle, a few hours ago, had been "discovered." The custodian had dropped him off in front of the President's office planning to make him do some yard work. But someone spotted him, and it was determined he should be assigned permanently to the President's office. They didn't explain to Kyle why he was picked, but he could guess. Kyle knew how he looked.
Kyle was overall happy with his new assignment. He wasn't thrilled that there was a necktie on the front door of the building, forcing him and all scrubs to be naked inside. But at least this place was nicer than the North Gym.
"Thank you, scrub, please bring it in," President Rush said.
Southwick did not notice Kyle at first and kept talking:
"Well, in fact, Steve was naked because he was competing for the job against Mark, a truly ruthless individual. Mark reported Steve for some minor infraction and got him turned into a scrub," Southwick said.
Kyle pretended not to hear, but listened to every word Southwick was saying about his roommate, Steve, and about Mark, the guy who had also turned Kyle into a scrub.
"I'm sure Mark's motivations were based on upholding the honor code for the entire school," President Rush said.
"Well, actually, no. I asked Mark why I should hire him instead of Steve, the naked guy. And Mark said something like: 'Because I've beaten Steve. He's naked in front of you in this job interview because of me. He's the laughingstock of campus because of me. He's going to spend probably the next month on his hands and knees scrubbing the cafeteria floor while his friends eat lunch around him, seeing him as a slave rather than a student,'" Southwick said.
"And what did Steve say?," President Rush said.
"I asked Steve why I should hire him instead of Marl. Steve just nodded at Mark and said, 'Because this guy is an asshole,'" Southwick said.
They both laughed at that. Kyle was now kneeling naked, his back to the wall, awaiting instructions.
"Look, President Rush, I've got to ask; why is there a fucking naked adonis in your office serving you tea? You know how this looks?," Southwick said.
"Why, I don't know what you mean," President Rush said.
"I give this college an awful lot of money, and I've got a right to be concerned, here. Parents don't send their sons to this place so that they can be turned into sex slaves," Southwick said, motioning at Kyle.
"Scrubs aren't sex slaves. No one is allowed to order them to do anything sexual," President Rush said.
"Right, they're just forced to beg for other students to sign their backs, usually in exchange for sex. Am I right, scrub? How many times have you been fucked since you were made a scrub?," Southwick asked, looking at Kyle.
"Please respect Kyle's privacy. He doesn't have to answer that. Anyway, what scrubs agree to do, is their own concern. We take away most of their freedom, but they're still free to choose whether and with whom to have sex," President Rush said.
"Got it. Look, you know I'm president of the alumni association, right? And I've got connections with more than half the board that appoints you. You should listen to me when I say, the scrub program needs to stop," Southwick said.
Suddenly, Kyle raised his hand. The motion surprised both Southwick and the President.
"Yes, Kyle, do you wish to speak? Speak freely," President Rush said.
"Thank you, President Rush. Mr. Southwick, sir, I think you might be dismissing the scrub program too easily. Being a scrub has made me a better man, and I'm so appreciative to President Rush for this opportunity," Kyle said.
Southwick rolled his eyes at the obvious ass-kissing. President Rush calmly sipped his tea.
"Humor us for an afternoon. President Rush, if you permit it, I will be Mr. Southwick's escort around campus. I'll take him wherever he wants to go. I want him to see for himself how scrubs live and are treated," Kyle said.
"What do you say, Jay?," the President asked.
"OK, but, he gets his underwear back, right?," Southwick said.
"It will be waiting for him outside, right where he left it. No one steals here. It would be an honor code violation," President Rush said.
As soon as they were outside, Kyle pulled his underwear on and, not asking Southwick where he wanted to go, started walking north.
"In answer to your question, I fucked two guys, at once, and it was glorious," Kyle said to Southwick.
"OK, congratulations, I believe you," Southwick said, amused by how the shy little naked scrub had suddenly transformed.
"Good, then believe this: This scrub program isn't all bullshit, but it needs fixing," Kyle said.
They turned the corner and entered a large courtyard that was the center of the campus, where hundreds of students crossed through each hour. There, tied to a statue in the center, was Steve. His arms were stretched over his head and his ankles tied to a spreader. His mouth was gagged, but other than that and the slave collar he wore absolutely nothing.
Southwick nodded at Steve as he passed him. Steve, already mortified, visibly reddened with embarrassment.
"Exactly as you were saying," Southwick said to Kyle.
"Hang in there buddy, help is on the way," Kyle said to Steve, patting him on the ass as they passed.
"I guess Mark is pissed off he didn't get the job," Southwick said.
Kyle smiled.
"Where are we headed?," Southwick asked.
"North gym. We're almost there. There's someone you have to talk to," Kyle said.
They passed a group of scrubs crouched on all fours, weeding the lawn, and came to the entrance of the north gym. Eddie, the scrub with a clipboard, looked up quizzically.
"I thought you were with the President's office now," Eddie said to Kyle.
"I am, and the President wants Mr. Southwick here to meet with a scrub," Kyle said.
"OK, which one?," Eddie asked.
"Dylan Patterson," Kyle said.
Eddie lowered his clipboard and frowned.
"The newspaper editor?," Eddie asked.
"Right," said Kyle.
"You're late. They took him away last night. You should have seen it. The honor guard stripped that arrogant prick naked, locked a horse bit into his mouth, loaded him into a hog trailer, and drove off with him," Eddie said.
"You mean--"
"Yeah. He's been transferred up north, to the Agricultural Resource Center," Eddie said.
Thanks for all the feedback! New chapters coming this weekend, hopefully.
I'm one of those awful lurkers who never encourages the fantastic contributors to this site, but I'm determined to do better. Even without particularly extensive/rigorous bondage, I love this story, as attractive guys who are subjugated against their will (with at least some form of restraint) is always a super hot scenario. And the premise here is really imaginative and not totally predictable! Many thanks and please continue!!
Chapter 7: Bill Gets Pulled Back In
Bill sat in the library’s main reading room, surrounded by other students, all quietly studying. Bill studied alone these days. The study group with him, Parker, Alex, and Chris hadn’t met since Parker made Chris strip and made the rest of the study group spank Chris. Bill didn’t want to return after that.
It had been hard for Bill to watch poor Chris humiliated and spanked, not only because Bill thought the entire idea of scrubs was offensive, but because Bill had been hoping to ask Chris out on a date and bring their relationship to the next level. It was a bitter disappointment for Bill to have the guy he was hoping to turn into a boyfriend made to display his naked body to a room full of friends.
It wasn’t just that incident. Bill saw a new side of Parker and Alex now, and he didn’t like it. Parker and Alex were really into humiliating scrubs. Parker and Alex particularly seemed to like humiliating scrubs in front of the scrub’s old friends, classmates, or rivals. They wouldn’t just make them crawl naked on the ground and lick the floor, for example; they’d make a senior do that in front of the freshmen down the hall from him in the dorm. Both Parker and Alex were into this humiliation game, and sometimes they’d compete against each other, seeing who could humiliate a scrub the most.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bill noticed a scrub in his underwear walking into the library’s reading room, but he deliberately did not look at him or pay attention to him. Bill thought the scrub program was awful, and he tried to avoid doing anything to contribute to the cruel humiliation of scrubs. Others in the reading room broke their concentration, looked at the scrub, and snickered, but Bill pretended none of it was happening. Bill was surprised at how often his fellow students mocked the poor scrubs. Didn’t they realize this could be them, too?
The scrub walked up to Bill and stood directly in front of his table, looking at him. Bill raised his head from his book and could not hide his shock.
It was Alex. Alex was a scrub.
Alex had his hands behind his back; tied there, Bill assumed. In addition to the standard scrub slave collar, Alex was also gagged with a piece of tape over his mouth.
Alex wasn’t especially fit. His big flabby stomach sagged over the waistband of his briefs. But it was Alex’s face that caught Bill’s attention. Alex was deeply humiliated, hanging his head in shame, flushed red, his eyes looking like he had been crying and might cry again soon. Alex nervously breathed heavily through his nose, and Bill could see Alex’s exposed chest and stomach heaving in and out.
Alex had another problem, too. A disadvantage of being permitted to wear nothing but white briefs is that it becomes almost impossible to hide certain things. In this case, Alex could not hide that he had an erection. Everyone in the room could see the distinct outline of his erect cock under the underwear. Alex, it seemed, was as humiliated by his aroused condition as much as by his embarrassing scrub status.
Part of Bill enjoyed it. He liked seeing Alex, the bully, stripped and humiliated like all the poor scrubs Alex had been torturing. But Bill caught himself quickly. Alex was a person like anyone else, entitled to dignity.
Alex, gagged, wanted Bill to know something. Alex urgently nodded downwards, motioning with his head. Bill’s eyes followed down the same direction and noticed that, hanging out of the waistband of Alex’s briefs, there was an envelope. In the part that was visible, Bill saw his name, “Bill,” written in urgent capital letters.
Alex walked around the table and came directly to Bill’s chair, and then knelt down on his knees next to Bill. Bill, careful not to touch a single inch of Alex’s exposed skin, reached down and gently pulled the envelope out of Alex’s briefs.
Bill felt mortified for Alex now. The reading room was full of people, now all curiously staring mostly at Alex but also partly at Bill.
Bill opened the envelope and removed the note. It smelled like Alex’s body odor. Bill read the note to himself:
“Bill, I’m so sorry that our friendship has drifted apart recently. Would you please meet with me today at 1 PM in the old TUG fraternity house? Bring this miserable scrub with you. Until then, he’s yours to command as you please. But please do not remove his gag or his cock ring; I’ve instructed him that he will be seriously punished if either leaves his body. Yours, Parker.”
Bill tossed the note aside, unsure of what to do.
Lucas, a tall, lean sophomore, rose from his seat two tables away and walked to Bill and Alex.
“Well, well, how the mighty have fallen,” Lucas said, and ran his fingers through Alex’s hair.
Alex cringed and tried to avoid Lucas. Lucas laid his hand on Alex’s bare shoulder.
“Is this guy your friend?,” Lucas asked Bill.
“Until recently,” Bill said.
“You know what this asshole did? Two of my friends on the track team got busted for smoking a joint and were made scrubs. This fucker made them dry hump each other in the middle of campus, with everyone watching,” Lucas said.
“Yes, I think I heard about that,” Bill said.
“Well, is this scrub doing an errand for you? Because if he is free, me and my buddies have got a few scores to settle with him,” Lucas said.
Alex looked at Bill in desperation, pleading with his eyes. Bill wasn’t sure what to do. He had been thinking of just sending Alex away. But he didn’t want to leave Alex to the whims of this vengeful jock and his buddies, either.
“Actually yes. He’s my footstool. Scrub, get down on all fours,” Bill ordered.
Alex did it, and Bill rested his shoes on Alex’s bare back.
“Well, enjoy,” Lucas said, snorting, and walked away.
Bill used Alex as a footstool for another half-hour. He felt horrible about it. Students would walk past and laugh. Bill realized not everyone would realize he was doing this to keep Alex safe. It bothered Bill that he was now contributing to Alex’s humiliation. But it was the only way Bill could think of to keep Alex out of the clutches of the vengeful jocks who would do so much worse to him.
Bill decided he would see Parker, if only to plead for him to be nicer to Alex. At about five minutes to one, he got up and beckoned for Alex to follow him.
They left the library and walked a short distance to the building that used to be the TUG fraternity house. It sat just across the street from the North Gym. Like the North Gym, it wasn’t used for its original purpose anymore. The TUG fraternity had moved to a different house across campus. This building sat vacant for two years. Or so Bill had thought. Bill saw now that the chain-link fences and yellow tape that used to surround the building were gone, and the lawn was neatly trimmed. It was due to scrub slave labor, Bill realized.
Bill and Alex approached the front door. There, prominently, was a necktie tied around the doorknob, and, for double measure, a printed sign that said “SCRUBS MUST BE STRIPPED AND LEASHED.” A laundry basket was left next to the door. Bill saw that it contained what looked like a dozen pairs of white briefs. Next to it was a box of dog leashes.
Bill took a dog leash. Alex winced as Bill clipped it onto Alex’s dog collar. Then Bill looked at Alex’s briefs.
“I don’t want to do this to you, Alex, but, I have to follow the rules,” Bill said.
Alex closed his eyes and bowed his head, nervously straining his bound wrists against the rope. Bill sucked in his breath, grabbed Alex’s underwear, and then, looking away from Alex, pulled them down to the ground. Alex stepped out of them, and Bill dropped the sweaty, smelly briefs into the laundry basket.
Then Bill looked at Alex’s body. Alex was a fat guy, un-athletic, not really the sort of body that gets much admiration from most people. But what stood out, literally, was Alex’s cock. Bill saw now that there was some sort of metal thing wrapped around the base of Alex’s balls and dick. Bill didn’t know anything about such things, but realized it was somehow maintaining or enhancing Alex’s erection.
Shaking his head, Bill looked away, and led the now-naked Alex inside by his new dog leash.
The door led into an entrance hall. Two naked scrubs were crouched on the tile floor, busily cleaning it. One stood.
“Good afternoon, sir, welcome to the house; do you have a reservation?,” he said.
Bill tried not to look at the naked, collared slave who was speaking to him. Bill looked past him while speaking.
“No, I’m here because Parker asked me to meet him here and bring along this scrub,” Bill said.
“Of course. He’s one floor up, fifth door on the left,” the scrub said.
“Thanks,” Bill replied.
“Do you remember me, scrub?,” the scrub said. He was talking to Alex now.
Alex was gagged and obviously couldn’t reply. Bill looked at him now, and looked at the other naked scrub, and saw the hatred between them.
The second scrub, who was on the floor, now looked up from his crouch. When he saw Alex and recognized him, he, too, stood.
The two naked floor-scrubbers stood side by side a glared at Alex.
“You should be careful with this scrub, sir,” the first one said to Bill. “There are a lot of us who are quite glad to see he is one of us now. Even better that his former friends have him tied up and gagged. A lot of us are looking forward to making sure this scrub gets the full experience he was sentenced to.”
“Very much looking forward,” the second scrub added.
“Get back on your hands and knees. I didn’t speak to you,” Bill said, angrily.
Bill caught himself. He was just trying to protect Alex, he realized. But it was the first time he’d ever really given an order to a scrub. Bill started to worry that all of this was going to his head.
Bill led Alex away, up the stairs, down the hallway. As he passed doors he heard moaning and grunting inside. Bill remembered how many white briefs he had seen in that laundry basket, and started to realize what this place was being used for.
The fifth door on the left was closed. Bill knocked. The door opened and Parker was there.
“Bill! I’m glad you came. Come inside!,” Parker said.
The room was a fairly well furnished frat house bedroom, larger than Bill’s dorm. Bill went inside.
“Scrub, you stay outside. In fact, go next door, and wait for us in that room,” Parker ordered Alex.
Parker closed the door and turned to look at Bill.
“This doesn’t mean we’re friends again, Parker. You and I are really different people. I think the scrub program is horrible, but you seem to be its biggest fan. I just brought Alex here because, out there, there’s like half the campus trying to get revenge on him,” Bill said.
Parker said nothing. He smiled.
“You know, Alex wasn’t naked when I sent him to you. You stripped him, huh?,” Parker said.
“I mean, yeah, the sign on the door said—-,” Bill started.
“Yes, yes, of course, and you can’t disobey signs on doors. And I sent Alex to you about an hour ago, what did you do with him in the meantime?,” Parker asked.
“I kept him safe from the jocks who wanted revenge on him,” Bill said.
“How?,” Parker asked, smiling.
“I used him as a footstool, OK?,” Bill said.
Parker laughed.
“You pretend like you’re offended by all of this, Bill, but deep down you understand. The scrub program isn’t just about gawking at guys in tight underwear, it’s about breaking them down, making them less arrogant, making them respect the law and honor and their community. That won’t happen if all you do is basic fraternity initiation prank shit. Someone has to push them to their limits and beyond. That’s what Alex and I were trying to do. So, look, Bill. Now that Alex has fucked up and gotten himself made into a scrub, I need another partner. Someone else who can help me teach these scrubs a lesson. And I think I want you for it,” Parker said.
Bill shook his head, stood, and headed for the door.
“You misunderstand me completely, then. I hate the scrub program and I hate that I have to even be near scrubs and participate in their humiliation,” Bill said.
“I have bad news for you, then,” Parker said, as he removed his phone from his pocket.
Bill stopped, one hand on the doorknob to the exit. Parker stared at Bill’s face, then lowered his gaze slowly, down to Bill’s feet. He started walking around Bill, looking at him from all angles.
“What the fuck are you doing?,” Bill asked.
“Oh, nothing. I bet you keep in shape? I was just trying to picture how adorable you’ll look in a slave collar and a pair of briefs,” Parker said.
“What? I’m not a scrub,” Bill said.
“Not yet,” Parker said.
Parker unlocked his phone and touched a send button. Bill’s phone pinged with a message. It was a video, shot of Bill, taking an exam one week ago in organic chemistry. It showed Bill secretly consulting a cheat sheet that he hid under his sleeve.
Bill’s heart sank. Since he was a little boy he’d wanted to become a doctor and work for the poor. He was a pre-med now, but that organic chemistry class was so hard. Bill figured the cheating was justified by the greater good. But now. . .
Bill gulped.
Bill sat in the library’s main reading room, surrounded by other students, all quietly studying. Bill studied alone these days. The study group with him, Parker, Alex, and Chris hadn’t met since Parker made Chris strip and made the rest of the study group spank Chris. Bill didn’t want to return after that.
It had been hard for Bill to watch poor Chris humiliated and spanked, not only because Bill thought the entire idea of scrubs was offensive, but because Bill had been hoping to ask Chris out on a date and bring their relationship to the next level. It was a bitter disappointment for Bill to have the guy he was hoping to turn into a boyfriend made to display his naked body to a room full of friends.
It wasn’t just that incident. Bill saw a new side of Parker and Alex now, and he didn’t like it. Parker and Alex were really into humiliating scrubs. Parker and Alex particularly seemed to like humiliating scrubs in front of the scrub’s old friends, classmates, or rivals. They wouldn’t just make them crawl naked on the ground and lick the floor, for example; they’d make a senior do that in front of the freshmen down the hall from him in the dorm. Both Parker and Alex were into this humiliation game, and sometimes they’d compete against each other, seeing who could humiliate a scrub the most.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bill noticed a scrub in his underwear walking into the library’s reading room, but he deliberately did not look at him or pay attention to him. Bill thought the scrub program was awful, and he tried to avoid doing anything to contribute to the cruel humiliation of scrubs. Others in the reading room broke their concentration, looked at the scrub, and snickered, but Bill pretended none of it was happening. Bill was surprised at how often his fellow students mocked the poor scrubs. Didn’t they realize this could be them, too?
The scrub walked up to Bill and stood directly in front of his table, looking at him. Bill raised his head from his book and could not hide his shock.
It was Alex. Alex was a scrub.
Alex had his hands behind his back; tied there, Bill assumed. In addition to the standard scrub slave collar, Alex was also gagged with a piece of tape over his mouth.
Alex wasn’t especially fit. His big flabby stomach sagged over the waistband of his briefs. But it was Alex’s face that caught Bill’s attention. Alex was deeply humiliated, hanging his head in shame, flushed red, his eyes looking like he had been crying and might cry again soon. Alex nervously breathed heavily through his nose, and Bill could see Alex’s exposed chest and stomach heaving in and out.
Alex had another problem, too. A disadvantage of being permitted to wear nothing but white briefs is that it becomes almost impossible to hide certain things. In this case, Alex could not hide that he had an erection. Everyone in the room could see the distinct outline of his erect cock under the underwear. Alex, it seemed, was as humiliated by his aroused condition as much as by his embarrassing scrub status.
Part of Bill enjoyed it. He liked seeing Alex, the bully, stripped and humiliated like all the poor scrubs Alex had been torturing. But Bill caught himself quickly. Alex was a person like anyone else, entitled to dignity.
Alex, gagged, wanted Bill to know something. Alex urgently nodded downwards, motioning with his head. Bill’s eyes followed down the same direction and noticed that, hanging out of the waistband of Alex’s briefs, there was an envelope. In the part that was visible, Bill saw his name, “Bill,” written in urgent capital letters.
Alex walked around the table and came directly to Bill’s chair, and then knelt down on his knees next to Bill. Bill, careful not to touch a single inch of Alex’s exposed skin, reached down and gently pulled the envelope out of Alex’s briefs.
Bill felt mortified for Alex now. The reading room was full of people, now all curiously staring mostly at Alex but also partly at Bill.
Bill opened the envelope and removed the note. It smelled like Alex’s body odor. Bill read the note to himself:
“Bill, I’m so sorry that our friendship has drifted apart recently. Would you please meet with me today at 1 PM in the old TUG fraternity house? Bring this miserable scrub with you. Until then, he’s yours to command as you please. But please do not remove his gag or his cock ring; I’ve instructed him that he will be seriously punished if either leaves his body. Yours, Parker.”
Bill tossed the note aside, unsure of what to do.
Lucas, a tall, lean sophomore, rose from his seat two tables away and walked to Bill and Alex.
“Well, well, how the mighty have fallen,” Lucas said, and ran his fingers through Alex’s hair.
Alex cringed and tried to avoid Lucas. Lucas laid his hand on Alex’s bare shoulder.
“Is this guy your friend?,” Lucas asked Bill.
“Until recently,” Bill said.
“You know what this asshole did? Two of my friends on the track team got busted for smoking a joint and were made scrubs. This fucker made them dry hump each other in the middle of campus, with everyone watching,” Lucas said.
“Yes, I think I heard about that,” Bill said.
“Well, is this scrub doing an errand for you? Because if he is free, me and my buddies have got a few scores to settle with him,” Lucas said.
Alex looked at Bill in desperation, pleading with his eyes. Bill wasn’t sure what to do. He had been thinking of just sending Alex away. But he didn’t want to leave Alex to the whims of this vengeful jock and his buddies, either.
“Actually yes. He’s my footstool. Scrub, get down on all fours,” Bill ordered.
Alex did it, and Bill rested his shoes on Alex’s bare back.
“Well, enjoy,” Lucas said, snorting, and walked away.
Bill used Alex as a footstool for another half-hour. He felt horrible about it. Students would walk past and laugh. Bill realized not everyone would realize he was doing this to keep Alex safe. It bothered Bill that he was now contributing to Alex’s humiliation. But it was the only way Bill could think of to keep Alex out of the clutches of the vengeful jocks who would do so much worse to him.
Bill decided he would see Parker, if only to plead for him to be nicer to Alex. At about five minutes to one, he got up and beckoned for Alex to follow him.
They left the library and walked a short distance to the building that used to be the TUG fraternity house. It sat just across the street from the North Gym. Like the North Gym, it wasn’t used for its original purpose anymore. The TUG fraternity had moved to a different house across campus. This building sat vacant for two years. Or so Bill had thought. Bill saw now that the chain-link fences and yellow tape that used to surround the building were gone, and the lawn was neatly trimmed. It was due to scrub slave labor, Bill realized.
Bill and Alex approached the front door. There, prominently, was a necktie tied around the doorknob, and, for double measure, a printed sign that said “SCRUBS MUST BE STRIPPED AND LEASHED.” A laundry basket was left next to the door. Bill saw that it contained what looked like a dozen pairs of white briefs. Next to it was a box of dog leashes.
Bill took a dog leash. Alex winced as Bill clipped it onto Alex’s dog collar. Then Bill looked at Alex’s briefs.
“I don’t want to do this to you, Alex, but, I have to follow the rules,” Bill said.
Alex closed his eyes and bowed his head, nervously straining his bound wrists against the rope. Bill sucked in his breath, grabbed Alex’s underwear, and then, looking away from Alex, pulled them down to the ground. Alex stepped out of them, and Bill dropped the sweaty, smelly briefs into the laundry basket.
Then Bill looked at Alex’s body. Alex was a fat guy, un-athletic, not really the sort of body that gets much admiration from most people. But what stood out, literally, was Alex’s cock. Bill saw now that there was some sort of metal thing wrapped around the base of Alex’s balls and dick. Bill didn’t know anything about such things, but realized it was somehow maintaining or enhancing Alex’s erection.
Shaking his head, Bill looked away, and led the now-naked Alex inside by his new dog leash.
The door led into an entrance hall. Two naked scrubs were crouched on the tile floor, busily cleaning it. One stood.
“Good afternoon, sir, welcome to the house; do you have a reservation?,” he said.
Bill tried not to look at the naked, collared slave who was speaking to him. Bill looked past him while speaking.
“No, I’m here because Parker asked me to meet him here and bring along this scrub,” Bill said.
“Of course. He’s one floor up, fifth door on the left,” the scrub said.
“Thanks,” Bill replied.
“Do you remember me, scrub?,” the scrub said. He was talking to Alex now.
Alex was gagged and obviously couldn’t reply. Bill looked at him now, and looked at the other naked scrub, and saw the hatred between them.
The second scrub, who was on the floor, now looked up from his crouch. When he saw Alex and recognized him, he, too, stood.
The two naked floor-scrubbers stood side by side a glared at Alex.
“You should be careful with this scrub, sir,” the first one said to Bill. “There are a lot of us who are quite glad to see he is one of us now. Even better that his former friends have him tied up and gagged. A lot of us are looking forward to making sure this scrub gets the full experience he was sentenced to.”
“Very much looking forward,” the second scrub added.
“Get back on your hands and knees. I didn’t speak to you,” Bill said, angrily.
Bill caught himself. He was just trying to protect Alex, he realized. But it was the first time he’d ever really given an order to a scrub. Bill started to worry that all of this was going to his head.
Bill led Alex away, up the stairs, down the hallway. As he passed doors he heard moaning and grunting inside. Bill remembered how many white briefs he had seen in that laundry basket, and started to realize what this place was being used for.
The fifth door on the left was closed. Bill knocked. The door opened and Parker was there.
“Bill! I’m glad you came. Come inside!,” Parker said.
The room was a fairly well furnished frat house bedroom, larger than Bill’s dorm. Bill went inside.
“Scrub, you stay outside. In fact, go next door, and wait for us in that room,” Parker ordered Alex.
Parker closed the door and turned to look at Bill.
“This doesn’t mean we’re friends again, Parker. You and I are really different people. I think the scrub program is horrible, but you seem to be its biggest fan. I just brought Alex here because, out there, there’s like half the campus trying to get revenge on him,” Bill said.
Parker said nothing. He smiled.
“You know, Alex wasn’t naked when I sent him to you. You stripped him, huh?,” Parker said.
“I mean, yeah, the sign on the door said—-,” Bill started.
“Yes, yes, of course, and you can’t disobey signs on doors. And I sent Alex to you about an hour ago, what did you do with him in the meantime?,” Parker asked.
“I kept him safe from the jocks who wanted revenge on him,” Bill said.
“How?,” Parker asked, smiling.
“I used him as a footstool, OK?,” Bill said.
Parker laughed.
“You pretend like you’re offended by all of this, Bill, but deep down you understand. The scrub program isn’t just about gawking at guys in tight underwear, it’s about breaking them down, making them less arrogant, making them respect the law and honor and their community. That won’t happen if all you do is basic fraternity initiation prank shit. Someone has to push them to their limits and beyond. That’s what Alex and I were trying to do. So, look, Bill. Now that Alex has fucked up and gotten himself made into a scrub, I need another partner. Someone else who can help me teach these scrubs a lesson. And I think I want you for it,” Parker said.
Bill shook his head, stood, and headed for the door.
“You misunderstand me completely, then. I hate the scrub program and I hate that I have to even be near scrubs and participate in their humiliation,” Bill said.
“I have bad news for you, then,” Parker said, as he removed his phone from his pocket.
Bill stopped, one hand on the doorknob to the exit. Parker stared at Bill’s face, then lowered his gaze slowly, down to Bill’s feet. He started walking around Bill, looking at him from all angles.
“What the fuck are you doing?,” Bill asked.
“Oh, nothing. I bet you keep in shape? I was just trying to picture how adorable you’ll look in a slave collar and a pair of briefs,” Parker said.
“What? I’m not a scrub,” Bill said.
“Not yet,” Parker said.
Parker unlocked his phone and touched a send button. Bill’s phone pinged with a message. It was a video, shot of Bill, taking an exam one week ago in organic chemistry. It showed Bill secretly consulting a cheat sheet that he hid under his sleeve.
Bill’s heart sank. Since he was a little boy he’d wanted to become a doctor and work for the poor. He was a pre-med now, but that organic chemistry class was so hard. Bill figured the cheating was justified by the greater good. But now. . .
Bill gulped.