To say that I had been taught a lesson was an understatement.
I had been humiliated.
I had just started college and I thought it would be fun to get back into Greco-Roman wrestling as a way to stay active and make some friends but I didn’t want a coach barking in my ear so I signed up for a club at the student union.
The flyer said it was student run but that we were supposed to wear the proper clothing and equipment including a singlet and athletic shoes. I hadn’t worn a singlet since junior high when I quit the sport because it felt weird wrestling other guys who were just as young and horny all the time like I was.
Part of the problem was I popped a boner a few times and the other guys saw me. And for me it was a bit more obvious because well I’m a bit big down there. I’m not bragging just how it is. But not only did they see it but they called me on it. I had seen other guys get chubby or worse but I felt a shame they didn’t so I quit.
When I signed there were three already on the sheet and space for a dozen names so I thought it would be small group. I bought everything I needed a few days in advance, dressed in my room once to make sure everything fit. Everything fit too well, the singlet was just as tight as I remembered it and even with a jockstrap I found myself with the problem of deciding right or left.
Even though I had quit wrestling I still worked out all of the time to keep up my physique. It isn’t easy these days with all the male models and magazines. Guys got it just as bad as women. I smiled at myself in the mirror. I had always liked the look of a singlet on the other guys because it showed off their form, not in a gay way, just, you know masculine.
But I still felt embarrassed enough that when I heard my roommate headed back to the room I grabbed my clothes, a towel, and jumped in the bathroom we shared with the guys next door. Luckily no one else was in there, sometimes the guys next door didn’t lock our door with the bolt lock and I walked in on them a few times.
When meeting time came I dressed in my singlet, running pants and hoody figuring I would blame my extra clothes on it being fall and the chilly New England air. I got to the gymnasium fifteen minutes early just where the flyer said the meeting would happen and was delighted to find several guys already there dressed just like me and wrestling each other on a mat. I smiled at them as I approached and they greeted me back.
I looked to the guys locked together in a hold, saw their ass cheeks, the way they were firm and held by the tight material. We had gotten bigger, I thought, and then I started to compare myself to them. Many were like me, athletic but not overly developed, but a few, well a few were clearly in the best shape of their lives. I spotted one guy on the sidelines talking with another wrestler, both of them smiled and laughed as if they were old friends.
One of them was tighter than the other, his hands moved about his own body in a comfortable way, an almost childish way. He rubbed at himself. He was shorter than me and for once I thought there was someone I could beat when he looked my way and smiled. I was flustered by his eyes and looked away. I felt embarrassed and turned slightly. I was ready to walk away but someone else in my way.
“Are you here to wrestle?” he asked.
I smiled and nodded.
“Well, get your extra clothes off and come over and meet the guys,” he said. “My name is Ed.”
“Todd,” I said.
We started to walk together. He waved to the other guys we passed and I thought I was in the clear until we made our way to the shorter guy I noticed before and we stopped.
“This is Chester. He’s the senior running the group.”
I shook his hand and told him my name. Now that we were closer I could tell he was much, much smaller than me by almost a foot but his muscles were tighter than I had realized. He looked me up and down and at first I thought he was checking me out until I realized I was still wearing my extra clothes.
“Don’t be shy,” he said.
“I’m not,” I said.
I pulled off the hoody, stepped out of the running pants, and at last I was exposed just like the rest of them. I felt awkward until Chester turned away and I saw his muscled ass. We were all dressed the same, I told myself. Nothing to worry about and nothing to get excited about just guys doing guy things.
I got comfortable after that as I found myself on the bench spectating as each guy picked out the other to wrestle. Sometimes there were two or three matches at a time on the mat as long as there could be enough space between them. Chester mostly acted as a referee, sometimes he stepped in to show a move or a grip but he kept it fun and light. I watched as he walked around most of the night.
After a few hours more guys were on the bench with me than waiting to wrestle but I didn’t talk to them much. Just a comment here and there until one guy stepped up to wrestle Chester, an oafish looking guy clearly above his weight class I thought Chester would lose easily but his speed and strength were too much for the larger man. I found myself laughing harder at the situation until finally Chester was literally running circles around the guy, teasing him by slapping his ass and back.
The other guys thought it was funny but at some point Chester and I locked eyes and he signaled for me to quiet down but I couldn’t. I found myself wanting to be defiant so I started making wise cracks to the other guys not just about the guys ability but his size and that was when Chester stopped the match and came over to where I sat.
“I didn’t see you out there all night. What about it? Are you man enough? I know you got the balls, I can see that clearly but maybe those are just show.”
I swallowed hard and looked him in the eye. I wanted to bash him right there. I wanted to jump him, get on top of him, and start hitting him but I stopped myself from acting. It wasn’t just that he was a great wrestler and maybe, probably could have sent me to the floor, or that he was right because I hadn’t wrestled anyone the whole night, but what he said reached all the way back to my childhood.
“So what about it? Did you wear that uniform just to show off your big dick or are you going to get out here and wrestle someone?”
I smiled, opened my mouth to speak, and leaned back. I looked round to the other guys who looked back at me seriously, too seriously.
“I’m not, I mean, I would but you know. Everyone else seemed to have a partner and it was... I don’t know.”
“You’re making excuses. How many of you were new tonight?”
I felt motion around me, looked to see five guys all with their hands in the air. I felt my face warm. I wanted to walk away, get my stuff and leave but I felt the shoes on my feet, the material around my thighs, pulling at my shoulders, the way air hit my ribs and sides. I had worn this, come here for a purpose.
Okay, I thought, he’s challenging me. I thought about how he had been with all the other guys then I thought about how he might be tired, the size of him. Maybe I would get lucky, maybe he would go easy on me, or maybe I could challenge someone else.
“Who?” I asked.
“Me,” he answered.
I shook my head.
“Come on, get out here or else you’ll be a chicken. Maybe we should tar and feather you, march you around campus.”
“Come on,” I said. He was joking. Wasn’t he?
They laughed but he got serious and then I heard someone point out his change in demeanor then laugh harder. I stood. They started to howl and cheer, clap, hands patted me on the back, my ass.
“Go get ‘em tiger,” Ed said in my ear.
I stepped down from the bleachers and Chester turned with me, directed me out to the empty mat, followed me. Everyone got down and formed a ring around us as we moved together to the center of the mat. He smiled a little and I smiled back but his face got serious again. He had the best poker face I had seen in years. This wasn’t just a regular match. This was personal somehow.
“You can decide if we start like this or you want to be down on your knees,” he said.
“Like this,” I said not liking the idea of starting on my knees.
I started to move around on the balls of my feet, side to side, I held out my hands and he did nearly the same but I could tell he was toying with me. I thought maybe my size would give me an advantage. I was almost comfortable in the possibility of beating him when he slapped his way through my hands and had me around my chest, a twist of his body, a twist of mine and I was pulled from my feet.
He slammed me to the ground and knocked some air from my lungs. I was stunned by his move. I thought I could feel him shift for some leverage but he pushed away from me. I would have thought he would pin me and that would be it.
Slowly I got to my feet, adjusted my singlet and walked around to calm myself. I looked to him but his face was still serious. I thought about admitting defeat right then but I felt a pride in me. He was small. I remembered what my father had always said about small guys. So I decided to go back at him. I stepped to him like I had done before and I held out my hands again as the guys laughed and cheered.
I didn’t know if they were cheering for me or against me but it didn’t matter. At that moment they disappeared from my mind and it was only me and Chester. I advanced on him and for a moment I thought I had him in a grip when he slipped loose. I felt his hands on one part of my body, tried to defend myself but it was a mislead, a misdirect, because his body went the opposite way, pulled me around by my elbow and he rolled me. I hit the floor and was winded again.
That’s when I felt his hand grab my ass. I felt his fingertips in my flesh before he grabbed at my knees and had me on my back. I thought for a moment that I could kick him away but he turned me, had me by my ankles, I knew he could complete a hold but he stopped and jumped up. He was playing with me.
I pushed myself to my feet and didn’t wait for him to get ready. I felt like I was getting an advantage when I grabbed hold of him but this time I let out a yell of anger as I felt my hands grip his waist. We turned together. I wanted to knock him down, pull him down, hold him. I had him. Then I didn’t. He broke my grip by pushing on my elbows.
As I fell to the floor my head between his knees, one knee under me and the other out from my body he reached under my body, I felt his hand brush past my balls. He grabbed at my ass, I felt his fingers slip between my cheeks. He touched my hole right there, right then, in front of everyone. I felt naked.
I knew at once that he could have me, bend me any way he wanted, and I was helpless but it wasn’t just him it was everyone else. He rolled me onto my back but let go and jumped to his feet. His hand was gone in an instant but it didn’t matter because it had happened. He had touched me there, my hole, an almost sacred place for any guy.
I wanted blood. He hopped away but I followed after him this time swinging my fists. I wanted to hit him. I thought I might get him with at least one knuckle when he caught my wrist, bent me around and had me on the floor again but this time he maneuvered my wrist between my thighs and down to my feet. I was on my knees and he had me in one of the most humiliating moves ever, the ball buster.
He gripped my wrist with all of his strength until he was using my own forearm to crush my nuts and my cock against my own body. I was beaten. He held me there for a moment until we each caught our breath.
“Are you done?” he asked.
I wanted to be done with it. I had felt his finger on my hole and now he had me beaten in a hold that was difficult to escape. He reached over my body and grabbed my shoulder with his other hand. I felt as if I was being fucked.
“Are you done?” he asked again.
I wanted to be done but I felt myself begin to stir. I felt my dick harden.
“Not even close,” I said.
“What more do I have to do?”
Everyone was quiet. They were waiting.
“Suck my dick,” I said.
“You’re not going to have much of a dick left,” he said before pulling on my wrist crushing me further.
I let out a groan of pain. I thought about all the times I had done anything I wanted, mouthed off, pushed other guys around, even got into fights. I had escaped but this was different because he had me and he wasn’t going to let me go until I gave up. He wanted to teach me a lesson.
“Give up man,” he said.
“Not on your life,” I said.
“Okay, then I’ll have to teach you a lesson about swinging at another guy,” he said.
His hand left my shoulder and for a moment I thought about what new move he would try, what hold he would do, maybe if he maneuvered himself I could fight back. Maybe, just maybe I might be able to reverse the match but my shoulder was feeling sore and my hand weak.
Where did his hand go?
Then I felt it, a spank on my ass cheek. He hit me on each cheek, tightened the hold. He spanked me several more times and I tried to pull away from him but I couldn’t. I tried to kick at him but I couldn’t get my knees off the mat. He spanked me until I stopped trying to resist.
“Are you done boy?” he asked.
My chubby was gone and I felt ready for it to be over. I just wanted to get away, out of his grip, away from where he had me with my ass in the air.
“Yes,” I said.
“Then say you’re sorry,” he said.
“Fuck you,” I replied.
He spanked me several more times with his hand, switched his grip then spanked me with his other hand. He could have let me go and I probably would have stayed there afraid he would have grabbed me again.
“Apologize,” he said.
“No,” I said.
He continued to spank me and it wasn’t just the pain but the feeling, the shame of being spanked as I thought about all the other guys I had sat with, the guys who I had seen wrestling. I started to cry.
“Holy shit he’s crying,” someone said.
“No I’m not,” I said.
“Yes you are,” someone said.
“Spank him more,” someone said.
“Spank his ass until he cries like a baby.”
I felt the whacks get harder, or else my ass was getting worn out, he spanked me until I broke into a quiet sob then he loosened the tension on my balls.
“Are you sorry?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes what?”
I didn’t think I would have ever said it to anyone my own age but I blurted out, “yes sir” before he let go of me and stood. I fell onto my arm and began to weep as I heard and watched the other guys walk away. I cried for a long time until it was all gone, all of my strength left me and I was there again in the gymnasium on a mat alone.
I rolled onto my side to look if anyone was around. I saw no one so I pushed myself up with my good arm. The place was empty. I saw my hoody and running pants on the bleachers where I left them. I got up, walked over, adjusted myself.
As I stood there I felt my ass again in a new way, sore from being spanked. I rubbed at it. I had been humiliated. I had been embarrassed and I only had myself to blame.
What would my ass look like tomorrow? What would it look like in a week when there was another meeting? Could I face him again?
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