This story is a reworking of a theme I explored in “Straight Man’s Long Journey,” from which I borrowed some sections for this story. It isn’t just—or even mainly—about sex, though I didn’t leave it out—but about control.
It was a snowy, January night at Slatler Gym at Coughlin College, and Ryan watched the wrestling match with satisfaction. As the match turned against Eric, Ryan especially enjoyed reading the emotions on Eric’s face: frustration, a flash of hope, dashed as he realized—too late!—his mistake, allowing Jerrod to seize control. Just as enjoyable was seeing two beautiful bodies locked together, their tight singlets taut over straining muscles, highlighting all their best features: meaty pecs, pert nipples, rippled abs, the clinging cloth delineating the twin globes of their firm bottoms, and of course their full-packed crotches were a feast for his eyes.
Jerrod had Eric trapped, face-down on the mat. Eric struggled in vain as Jerrod pulled himself up on top. Ryan savored the sight of Jerrod’s ample crotch—obviously stimulated by so much contact!—pressed against Eric’s upturned bottom. Ryan watched Eric’s face turned beet red and knew: having his opponent’s hardening cock rammed against his butt only deepened his humiliation. Jerrod let out an exultant grunt as he pinned Eric, whose face registered humiliation, then resignation at yet another defeat.
Jerrod ground himself against his defeated foe one last time as he rose from the mat—had anyone but Ryan noticed that—or notice Eric bow his head at the same time? It had been a tough six weeks for Eric. He’d begun the year so well, dominating the mats. Then everything turned inexplicably wrong. Guys he’d have whipped without breaking a sweat were beating him; even when he’d start strong, somehow he’d lose his way, not see the pin coming. His opponents seemed to sniff out an inner weakness and exploit it ruthlessly.
Eric stood up, slowly lifted his head, and searched the crowd. When his eyes met Ryan’s, humiliation turned to calm as their gaze met and locked. Ryan smiled knowingly as Eric’s already-tented crotch instantly swelled with a full erection. Ryan closed his eyes to break the link and Eric came back to himself, shook his head, then blushed to realize his cock was hard and throbbing—and he had no idea why. Fortunately, another match was underway, so few spectators were looking at him. Still, it was awkward walking back to the bench, his dick obviously throbbing; he hurriedly grabbed his warm-ups, pulled them on, and sat down, the rush of his sudden arousal disorienting him.
Yes—coming along nicely, Ryan thought, as he took it all in.
The next match was enjoyable—yet another pair of handsome bodies to enjoy—but Ryan’s mind wandered. He thought back to how he’d gotten to know Eric in high school.
It was the first day of Ryan’s sophomore year when he saw the tow-headed freshman wandering bewildered in the main hall. “Need help?”
“Yeah, I sure do, thanks! I can’t seem to find the science lab!”
“No problem—freshman science, right?” Ryan said with a smile.
“Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Same thing happened to me—last year! Hi, I’m Ryan Hyatt.”
“I’m Eric Martin.” Eric looked up at the taller, dark-haired boy as they shook hands.
“Let me show you the way—it is kinda hard to find.”
Eric followed dutifully behind Ryan, who led him straight to his class.
“Gee, thanks a lot!” Eric gushed with real gratitude. “I thought I was going to be late!”
“Good luck, buddy!” Ryan said, patting Eric’s shoulder as turned into the classroom, then headed for his own study hall.
He ran into Eric again in the lunch line. Seeing the familiar face, Eric’s eyes lit up.
“Finding your way around?” Ryan asked, as they both got into line.
“Yeah, I think so, thanks. Is it that obvious I’m a new kid here?”
“Yeah! But that’s okay. Happens to all of us.”
When they’d both gotten lunch, Ryan saw some friends, and was about to meet up with them, when he sensed an uneasiness in Eric.
“Hey, do you know anybody here? Any friends from middle school?”
“Well, not really. My family just moved out here this summer. I don’t know anyone here.”
“Well, you know me! Wanna help me find a table?”
And that was how Ryan had taken Eric under his wing. By the end of the school year, they were inseparable best friends—despite being different in so many ways: Ryan was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark, wavy hair and a killer smile; Eric was shorter, slighter, with curly, white-blond hair. Ryan was bold and confident, a natural leader; Eric was shy, easily embarrassed. Ryan was an “A” student, cruising through honors classes; Eric had to strain to make Bs. Ryan was a natural in athletics, backup quarterback, and sure to be the starter in his junior year; Eric tried hard, but didn’t have a lot of natural talent.
But they hit it off all the same. It seemed natural for Ryan to take the lead on things; and Eric seemed happy to follow it. Friends kidded Ryan about his “new little brother,” but Ryan didn’t mind—he really liked his new friend. Not having any siblings of his own, he really liked having someone to look after. And Eric—who likewise was an only child—was happy to have a “big brother” to hang out with and to ask advice from, especially about girls.
Because where Eric really felt awkward, was around girls. Meanwhile Ryan was “Mr. Smooth”! Eric was especially grateful when Ryan helped him meet some girls and double-dated with him a number of times.
It was in that same sophomore year when Ryan began to figure some things out about himself. He liked girls—and they liked him—but he there was something else. He was noticing the guys—a lot. He found himself stealing glances at other guys in the locker room—and getting hard-ons when he didn’t expect it.
Ryan found himself thinking more and more about guys. One guy especially: Trevor, who shared several classes with him, and who was a kicker on the football team. Their lockers were in the same row, and Ryan found himself glancing over at Trevor as they dressed and undressed. In the shower room, his gaze would casually drift Trevor’s direction, checking him out.
One night, before going to bed, Ryan reached down and started playing with himself. He started out thinking about Amber, a girl in history. Then Trevor—who’s also in history—came to mind. Before he knew it, he was remembering Trevor in the locker room, in just a jockstrap; Trevor, walking to the shower, a towel over his shoulder, his cock swinging freely. Trevor, in the shower, water cascading down his nude body, over his ass…
And just that suddenly, Ryan came, firing cum all over his chest and face.
It was confusing, even shocking, at first—but soon, Ryan accepted that he liked both girls and guys.
One of the guys he started to see in that light was Eric. He got Eric interested in weight-training. His buddy wasn’t fat or anything, but he did have a little baby fat still, just as Ryan had been a couple years earlier. Ryan wanted to see his “little bro” get in really good shape, not only for his own sake but also—he soon admitted to himself—for his own viewing pleasure. He found he enjoyed seeing his friend’s chest expand, his stomach get flat, and his arms start to pop; he enjoyed even more seeing him around the locker room and in the showers.
He felt a little guilty about it, but soon got over it; especially when he decided Eric was as straight as an arrow and there wasn’t going to be anything sexual between them anyway, so what was the harm? After that, Ryan’s feelings for his friend were a mixture of lust and big-brother concern.
They hung out together all that following summer; going to movies, biking, camping, swimming, and dating together. They became fast friends.
That fall, at Ryan’s urging, Eric went out for football—and made it as a backup receiver and utility player, while Ryan moved up to starting quarterback. Ryan became a kind of second coach for his “little buddy,” not just in football, but in life.
It was in Ryan’s junior year he discovered something else about himself: that somehow, he seemed able to dominate other people—and, by and large, they accepted it. Even people who would be dominant in other situations. Guys, girls, even adults. It was uncanny.
When Ryan heard mention of the “alpha dog” in biology, followed by an AP Psychology class, he began to realize he had some kind of gift. And he began to sense this was also a part of his friendship with Eric.
As the school year—and his AP Psychology class—ended, and summer began, Ryan decided to try an experiment—with Eric.
They had gone to the mall to see Gladiator. Afterward, Eric remembered he wanted to pick up a new swimsuit for the summer, so they headed for a sporting goods store.
Eric started looking among the boxer-style suits. Ryan held up a pair of red speedo briefs. “Dude, why don’t you try one of these?”
Eric blushed. Ryan smiled—it was one his little bro’s endearing qualities, that he blushed so deeply and so readily—and he loved provoking it. That’s why he’d held up the speedos—because another of Eric’s endearing qualities was his bashfulness, especially about his body.
“Dude, c’mon!” Eric said, returning to the pile of baggies he was looking through.
“Me too. I don’t want a bathing suit like that!”
“Why not?” Ryan knew why—because Eric was shy about his body. Not that he had anything to be embarrassed about, certainly not below the waist—from what Ryan had glimpsed in the locker room, despite Eric’s bashfulness. But he wondered if Eric would admit it.
“Well, what? C’mon, don’t tell me you’re too embarrassed to wear some speedos?”
Eric blushed again. “C’mon, Ryan, I…”
“Buddy, these are better for swimming—less drag. Those are what you wear if you’re going to just flop around in the water; you wear these”—Ryan held the speedos in front of his own crotch—“when you are going to do some serious swimming.”
Eric rolled his eyes and looked away.
“I think you should buy these.” Ryan held them out to Eric.
Eric looked at Ryan, waiting for him to let it go. Ryan kept his hand extended, the speedos before Eric’s face, waiting for a response.
“C’mon,” Eric finally pleaded, breaking the silence.
“I think you should buy these,” Ryan insisted.
Eric looked at the speedos in his friend’s hands. He didn’t want to do this; but he didn’t know how to get out of this conversation.
“OK,” Eric finally said, sighing hard, as he took the speedos from Ryan’s hands.
“Good boy,” Ryan said. “You know what? You really need to have more than one,” handing Eric another pair, this one black. When Eric took it, Ryan started toward the checkout counter.
Ryan watched Eric as he paid for the new swimsuits. There was an air of resignation about his friend—he’d been dominated…by an alpha dog…and he was accepting it. Ryan was astonished. He’d been curious enough to try an experiment; but he didn’t think it’d work, certainly not this well.
As they walked out, Ryan gave Eric’s shoulder a squeeze. “Tuesday, we’re going swimming, right?”
“And you’re going to wear them, right?” He squeezed Eric’s shoulder harder.
His hand still on Eric’s shoulder, he leaned in to look at Eric. Smiling, he said, “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it, buddy?” Eric relaxed, broke into his trademark broad smile. “No, I guess not!”
The next Tuesday, Ryan picked up Eric to head to the pool. Before Eric could throw his bag onto the back seat, Ryan grabbed it, set it down between them, and reached in. When his hand felt the nylon of the speedos, he smiled at Eric. “Good boy!” he said, genuinely proud.
Eric blushed. “Thanks!” He felt a rush of pride too.
Ryan acted nonchalant, but in truth, he could hardly wait to get to the swim club, and into the locker room. He not only really wanted to see Eric in the speedos, he wanted just as much to see how bashful he’d be about it. There was a boyish innocence about Eric when he blushed, and was shy about his body—and it totally turned Ryan on.
Sure enough, when they got to the locker room, Eric took his time. Ryan pretended not to notice, but headed for the shower.
When he came back, Eric had his back turned, and was pulling on the speedos. Ryan watched, amused, as Eric tried to adjust them so they weren’t so tight and revealing. No luck.
“C’mon, let’s go!” Ryan said, slapping his buddy on the butt. “Hit the showers!” Startled, Eric hurried into the shower. After a quick rinse, he came back, obviously feeling a little awkward. Ryan enjoyed every minute of it—especially the sight of his much-buffer friend in tight-red speedos. Eric was one of those guys who is fairly big even soft—so he had a lot to display. Ryan wondered what more he’d show, if hard; he wondered if he’d ever find out.
Ryan acted nonchalant. “Ready? Let’s swim!”
The morning was for swimming; then they were going to head back to Eric’s house to eat and chill for awhile. They weren’t the only guys with that plan—the locker room was crowded. Ryan made a suggestion. “Buddy, what do you say we just grab our stuff, and shower and change at your house?” That meant Eric would not only have to stay in his new speedos longer—he’d have to walk out to the parking lot in them, and walk into his house in them. Ryan wondered if his friend would balk.
To his surprise, Eric agreed readily. Sure enough, his towel over his shoulders, Eric seemed at ease walking to the car just in his speedos. Same when he got home.
As they drove home, Ryan’s mind reeled at what he’d accomplished so easily. He’d gotten his friend to do something he’d rather be caught dead than do—even though it was deeply embarrassing for him—and he’d persuaded him with real no reason, no explanation given; nothing more than his demand, and the force of his will. He’d dominated Eric; Eric had submitted.
Now, as they drove home, Ryan looked over at his friend. Eric was totally at ease, even though he was nearly naked, his speedo leaving nothing to the imagination. Ryan took every opportunity to enjoy the view.
One fact made the victory even more complete. Ryan had implied that he, too, wore speedos. In fact, Ryan wore baggies too, though he wasn’t bashful, he did prefer them. And just to see what would happen, that’s what he wore that day.
Eric hadn’t even noticed. It had been true domination: Eric had yielded, without any expectation that the one dominating him would do anything different.
As they drove back, Ryan was glad he was wearing baggies—because they, plus his towel, bunched up—concealed his raging eight-incher.
The success of that first experiment led to others during the summer. Small stuff: when Ryan knew Eric really wanted something—like seeing a particular movie, or some particular plan for the evening—Ryan would insist on a different plan; and sure enough, Eric would relent. Not only that, he’d soon decide he’d wanted it all along.
One afternoon, they stopped for ice cream. Ryan knew Eric hated Mint Chocolate—he knew it! All the same, when Ryan brought back the ice cream, he brought his friend Mint Chocolate.
“I didn’t want that!”
“I hate that flavor.”
“Eat it! You’re wrong about Mint Chocolate—it’s great! I love it!”
“I really don’t think I…”
“Eat it. It’s really good. You’re going to like it.”
Eric took the cone reluctantly.
“Go ahead—eat it. It’s good. I like it. You’re going to like it. Trust me.”
The first taste was what Eric expected. He hated it. But Ryan urged him on—and despite himself, kept eating it. After awhile, he stopped grimacing. By the time he was done, he had licked the cone clean.
“You’re right, Ryan! That was good! I don’t know why I never liked that before.”
After that, Mint Chocolate was Eric’s favorite flavor.