Rick and the Beast – Part 1

“Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!…”

Rick had never had a drink before in his life. He took the end of the funnel in his mouth, and the chant grew louder. But what could it hurt? He was at college! This is what college was for! The beer hit him fast, and he sputtered out the first bit, got the end of the funnel back in his mouth, and tried to keep up, the cheap, unlabelled beer from the keg tasting like slightly bitter water. He finally quit, when he couldn’t keep up anymore, let out a big belch, and people whooped and hollered. He grinned, feeling like he belonged.

An hour later, with five more cups of beer pushed onto him by guys from the frat hosting the party, he was smashed, stumbling down a hallway, trying to find a bathroom where he could either shit or puke or both. He ended up puking before he could find one, into a handy bucket the frat had hopefully left out for that very reason. He wiped his mouth, let out another belch and figured that the smart thing would be to excuse himself quietly. Turning around, he saw the hallway was blocked.

At least six and a half feet tall, weighing in at a rumored 300 pounds of nearly solid muscle, hair and cock, was Jim Newman–known around campus as “The Beast”. The prize athlete from the school, a senior already being scouted for the NFL draft, and he was staring right at Rick–short, big gutted, Rick Trubert, on a partial scholarship from Smalltown, Nowhere.

“Did…” Rick started to say. His heart was caught in his throat for some reason. “You saw that, I bet…”

The Beast didn’t say anything, but came forward, pushing right into Rick’s personal space, abs to moobs, and Rick’s heart caught again. He was panting, and…and hard? Why the fuck was he hard? He wasn’t gay, he’d had sex with girls and everything, but there was…a smell. The Beast’s musk enveloped him, this rank, filthy smell, and something about it was making him hard as a rock. “You looked good with a funnel in your mouth, piggy,” The Beast leered down, “Bet you’d look even hotter with my cock stuffed in there instead.”

“I’m…I’m not…”

“You think I give two shits?”

“Please–”

The Beast squatted a bit, reached under Rick’s gut and found the hard cock like he’d expected it to be there. Rick tried not to groan, but did anyway, loudly.

“Ya know, maybe not throat tonight. Looking at you now, I’m thinkin’ ass.” With his other hand, The Beast pulled up the bottom of his tank, revealing his hard abs, shiny with sweat, and Rick leaned in, snorting, licking up salt. When The Beast opened a bedroom door, Rick didn’t hesitate to follow. The Beast bent him over the bed, yanked down his pants, and fucked him raw, forcing Rick to bite down on a pillow so he didn’t scream, the ten inch cock buried deep into his guts, filling him with cum, and then Beast zipped up and left, but not before getting Rick to mumble out his cell number for him. Rick was happy to be drunk; it disguised the pain. He pulled up his pants, feeling cum and a bit of blood leak out into the back of his underwear, and fled back to his dorm room–thankfully, it was empty.

What should he do? Who should he call? No, he couldn’t tell anyone. Who would even believe him? The Beast was well known as a pussy hound; nobody would believe that he’d fuck a guy. He laid down on his bed, trying not to cry, trying not to think, when he felt his phone buzz. He checked it–a couple text messages from an unknown number.

left you a present pig

check your pocket

Rick noticed then that he had a strange bulge in his back pocket–he reached in and pulled out a jockstrap–The Beast’s jockstrap. The Beast’s stinking…well worn jockstrap. He pressed it to his nose, it had the same stink on it that he’d smelled in the hallway, and unable to stop himself, he had his cock in his hand, and he was jacking off. He noticed that his underwear was wet and tacky already…had he cum while The Beast was fucking him earlier? He could kind of remember in the bedroom, begging him to fuck his hole harder, grunting and snorting and panting like a fucking pig…yeah, he’d cum, he’d cum harder than he ever had before. He waded up the jock and shoved it in his mouth, sucking the sweat, piss and dried cum from the fabric, and while one hand kept stroking his pig cock, the other slipped around behind to his sore, wrecked hole, probing it, slipping two and then three fingers in, unable to stop.

After several minutes of abusing himself he shot again, and kept the jock in his mouth as he came down from his orgasm. Realizing what he’d done, he threw it across the room, and saw a few more messages had arrived on his phone.

think you should cum to my room and thank me pig

r u there?

fuckin answer pig I dont like waiting!!!

Rick’s thumbs tapped out a few replies, but he kept deleting them before sending them. His roommate came back from a different party, and Rick had to cover himself up quickly, and only then did he realize he’d never sent a message back. That was probably for the best…but he had to silence the phone–the stream of messages didn’t stop coming in until the early morning, and he deleted them all before he could give into the temptation to read them. He kept the jock, though–he hid it from his roommate, but before long the only way he could get a load of cum out was with it pressed to his nose or stuffed in his mouth, but he never replied to The Beast. He was too terrified. He didn’t have to worry though–The Beast would be more than happy to hunt him down.

(To be continued Friday)