“A New Coaching Position” Part 5 of 5

I do still see my son, once a year. He lives on one of the organization’s “resorts”. They call it The Fuck Farm–it’s out in the country, very secluded. Rich fags pay exorbitant amounts of money to stay there, and have the pick of the slaves for the week or the weekend. I get one week of vacation there every year, but the only slave I ever reserve is my son.

I don’t even recognize him anymore, but I think he still knows me. Or at least, I like to think that he still knows who I am. Man, every time, I try. I hold out as long as I can. I try to get him to come back to me, to say something–anything. Just a word, something other than his grunts and snorts and groans, begging me wordlessly to fist his hole…and who am I to deny him what he wants? Yeah, I give in, I always do. And before I know it, we’re out in the barn, me in some of my favorite rubber gear, my fist buried deep in his hungry hole…fuck, he’s such a hot pig, I’ll be back there in a few weeks–I need to make sure they reserve him for me. Still, the bosses usually know who I want, I probably don’t need to worry.

Anyway, that’s the story, boy. That’s the story I tell everyone their first night with me. Don’t try to fight it, they can destroy your mind at the drop of a hat if they feel like it. Besides, doesn’t it feel good, being stretched out, spread eagle in my dungeon, unable to move? The tight leather biting into your flesh–how about I get my whip boy? How about I whip you until you bleed? I want to taste you–I bet your blood is fucking sweet as hell. Yeah, I saw that shiver–I felt it–you’re afraid, I understand that. But just trust me, trust your new pipe master, let me show you where pain and pleasure meet in ecstasy. Trust me, and in a couple of months, there’s nothing else you’ll want more than to bleed for me.

“A New Coaching Position” Part 4 of 5

They gave me a choice, when they dragged me out of the theater, once the team had had their way with me. They told me that they could do one of two things. Either I could accept a position with them in the organization helping with various “acquisitions,” or they’d throw me back in the theater with the team, without the goggles, where in a matter of moments I’d have no mind like the rest of them, just a hog for fattening, eating and fucking and…and is it any surprise I took the job? No, I didn’t want it, I mean, I’ve grown to…enjoy it, sure, as you can tell, but what sort of choice did I really have?

Of course, they didn’t bother to tell me that just because I’d taken the job didn’t mean I wouldn’t require some…modifying. That’s the word they use–modifications. But that’s not my specialty–I’m a trainer; still a coach of sorts, just, in a different capacity. It was the smoking that I hated the most. I still–well, that’s a lie. I love it now, I just know that I shouldn’t, but what good does that do me? From the first day in the facility they had me trained in tobacco use–cigars, pipes, cigarettes, dip–I use them all now, all the damn time. Of course, that was just the start of it. The testosterone–fuck, it makes me so fucking…aggressive. The near endless workouts help take the edge off, but when they showed me that first pig, that first slut begging for my cock, I only held out for a minute before giving it a rough fuck, cumming in its hole…it was only later that I felt bad, but I don’t feel bad about it anymore.

I’m a leather smoke bear now, I guess. Grizzled, muscled, aggressive, one hundred percent top. Most of the time, I’m free to live the life they’ve given me, nights out at the leather bar, taking home cubs for nights of smoke sex, bondage and pain play–fuck, yeah, watching a guy bleed–nothing turns me on quite like that. A few times a year though, they deliver me a pig to train. Someone who needs the special touch, and they all leave the same–craving smoke and sexual abuse. Sure, it’s wrong, but I love it, and can’t imagine any other life, but you know all about that part, don’t you?

“A New Coaching Position” Part 3 of 5

I knocked out the van driver and his escort that night, and stole their goggles. They did more than limit my sight, I also discovered that they had earplugs attached as well. Before my movements could be detected, I snuck into the theater, not at all ready for what I would find in there. The film playing, well, it wasn’t really a film, so much as a series of images flashing too fast for anyone to make out well, and the earplugs prevented me from hearing much of anything at all, and my team, of fuck, my team–what had I done?

They were fat–just fucking enormous. All of them had grown out of their clothes, and were in the midst of an orgy–the stink of sex and sweat and food and cum and body odor in the room was nearly overwhelming, and I did my best to keep from retching, then came the voice.

“Hello Mr. Finney, I was wondering when that conscience of yours would get the better of you. Well, no matter, a coach belongs with his team, right? And with his son, of course.”

My stomach dropped, and looking over in terror, I saw my son on his hands and knees, Carl, the team captain, ramming his fist up his hole while he squealed, and I knew I had come too late.

Through the earplugs, I could just sense a change in whatever soundtrack was accompanying the movie, and all of the men turned towards me, grinning. “Now, how about it boys? Your coach is here to see you–don’t you want to welcome him? Please him? But leave his goggles on, I want him to know it’s happening.”

They pinned me down before I could get away, and dang, I think the entire team sucked my cock that night. Men came in when they saw I wasn’t cooperating, and gave me some drug that gave me a hardon that lasted for hours, before they finally dragged me away, exhausted.

“A New Coaching Position” Part 2 of 5

Look, I know I shouldn’t have done it, I was their coach, these guys trusted me, but they were threatening to turn my son into a fat fistpig, what in the hell was I supposed to do? It was easy–all they wanted me to do was organize a pizza and movie night for the team at this private theater a little ways out of town, and they were going to take care of everything else–though they suggested that I get out of there before the film started. 

Days passed, and no one heard anything from the the team, but somehow there was no uproar when the entire football team vanishes all at once, so obviously I wasn’t the only staff member being blackmailed. A couple days later, it was quietly announced by the school that the football program had lost funding and been cut–now, to top everything off, I was unemployed too.

I camped out at the theater. Outside the room, I could hear them all, still in there…doing who knew what. Vans arrived. Men in grey uniforms took mountains of food and soft drinks out of them and into the theater before leaving again. They all had on these special goggles, and I knew that if I was going to find out what happening here, if I was going to put this right, I would need to get a pair.

“A New Coaching Position” Part 1 of 5

Comfortable? Good. Now, before we start, there’s a little story I like to tell everyone on their first night with me. Don’t worry, it won’t take lnog–then we’ll get down to business.

I was a coach for the local college football team. Now, this was years ago now, I’m honestly not sure–at least a decade now–dang, I can’t believe it’s been that long. My wife had left me a few years before that, the first year our son had gone off to college–a different one than where I’d coached. He was away for the first semester of his senior year when I got this email with a video attached. It showed my son, strapped down in his football uniform, a gas mask covering his face, and then the camera panned around, and I watched as some masked man fucked my son’s ass until they both came.

It was horrible. I don’t know why I watched the whole thing–I only watched it once though. The email had come from some…organization. I still don’t really know what it is, and I’m, well, we’ll get to that part later. Suffice to say, seeing my son like that, what could I have done? Of course I agreed to their demands, not that it would have made much of a difference, looking back.

They wanted the football team. I still don’t know why, but they wanted the entire football team from my school, and they needed a coach–someone the guys trusted, to help them, and I, apparently, had been the easiest target for blackmail. I’m not proud of everything I’ve done, I’m really not, but I did have my reasons, however bad they were. I just wanted my son back, you have to understand that, you would have done the same thing if you were in my own position, right?