Born to Bottom Ch. 01

I'm THAT guy. The one you wish you were. At 6'2 and 205 pounds of lean, cut muscle, at the top of my game. I'm popular, homecoming king, prom king, the best tight end in the district. Not bad for a high school senior on my way to a college football scholarship at basically any university I want. I always have some slutty bitch riding my cock on any given day and a few teachers have taken a ride on this train as well, hence, good grades.

All this and one would think I have it all, life is perfect, it's fucking awesome to be me but that's not always the case. I got shit eating away at me but I'm great at hiding my anxiety that I keep bottled up. The problem is stress and anxiety make me irritable and short tempered, basically an asshole. I get set off easily.

Getting into fights is nothing new for me, it's been happening since Junior High. I'm an Alpha male so guys get jealous, my looks, my athletic skills, my masculine presence. They always want to challenge me. After a few run ins with cops, I've learned a good release for the pent-up frustration, to keep my temper in check, is to hit the weights and hit them hard. It's not uncommon to find me in the school gym after hours if I can sneak in. If not, I hit the gym uptown. They gym is getter than jail.

Working out helps me focus, decompress, center myself. I can usually leave the gym feeling better than I did when I arrived. I know it sounds cocky but I fucking love looking at myself in the mirror during and after a good tough workout. I get really pumped, vascular, a fucking beast. When I go to the public gym, I get off on the stares and whispers I get from chics and dudes when I'm working out. I act like I don't notice but I know damn well how hot I am. I'll just smile a big, white grin, run my fingers through my black, wavy hair and let my deep blue eyes do the talking for me as I move around the weight-room with my AirPods in, the universal sign for "don't talk to me while I'm working out, bitch." And, of course, I'm not ashamed to show off what I got. Tight workout gear to show off my hard gains, bulging biceps, thick traps, armor plated chest and my stellar ass and quads. I love my hamstrings, the way they slightly curve out and then in up into my glutes. My ass is legendary at school. Girls want to touch it, guys envy it. Squats are a way of life for me. The only way to keep this ass round and hard as a rock.

No one knows the real reason I work out so intensely. No one knows I feel I must be hyper-masculine, cocky, arrogant, be the man everyone expects me to be, who takes control, a born leader, someone the other guys look up to. I need to be able to take down any dude that gets in my face. I'm good at it. Too bad it's all an act...mostly.

It's all a carefully orchestrated farce. The deepest secret about me doesn't have anything to do with insecurity, or self-esteem, nothing that affects other teenagers. No, mine is far deeper than that. A secret no one can know about as it could fuck up my football aspirations, my family life, my so-called love life and my reputation.

My secret? I love a big, fucking thick cock in my ass. I don't mean "just the tip" either. I mean I fucking love to get a good, hard pounding. I love it deep and rough. I love shit like being held down, my faced pushed into the mattress and having my hole destroyed.

A pounding that makes an Alpha like me into a moaning, screaming little bitch. As it turns out, I'm a god damn submissive behind closed doors. I don't know what it is about another athlete who is a strong, confident, muscular Alpha that turns me into a raging slut. No one would believe it if they saw how much I love to be bent over taking cock up my tight, muscular ass-cunt. My deep voice out of breath, moaning, begging whatever stud is laying pipe in my butt to give it to me harder, insisting they don't stop until they breed me so I can soak up their primal, virile energy.

I'm a walking cliché; I date girls, I'm the big, cocky jock who dominates on and off the field. I'm conceited and overly confident to a fault. Unfortunately, I'm also a cliché for that same guy, a down-low, closet case that is living a lie and just really wants a masculine dude to take me down and wreck my hole. Same old story: boy wants boys, boy must date girls to hide he wants boys. You know how hard it is to fuck a chic but having to think of your last time with a dude to stay hard? To cum, I think about the best railing I've ever had in my short life and that will send me over the edge. Whatever dumb bitch I'm fucking assumes she's the reason for the huge loads I shoot into a condom, therefore, keeping my bad boy rep intact.

The truth is, I want to BE her. I love being her, the dumb bitch, when I'm with a dude. I'm happiest when I'm on my back, legs up, dick in my ass. And no condom! I want to feel the Alpha cum coursing through my body, adding to my strength, my DNA changing to become like him. After a couple hours of a bro's bone in my ass, I leave with a fucking strut. No god damn "walk of shame" for me. Nope, it just makes me prouder of myself. Knowing that alphas want to bury their dicks in my ass makes me feel superior. If a guy wants to mess with me, disrespect me, I just think inside, "fuck you, you little bitch. I'm better than you. I know I am because I have a ton of alpha cum in my gut right now and alphas don't fuck losers." I don't even have a problem getting boned and then heading straight out on a date with a girl. I have no shame. I've been known to cock-block a girl if I sensed the guy might be more into me than her.

I want to look up at the dude fucking me and see ME looking down. It's narcissistic but that's who I am. If I had a twin, I'd fuck him. I want to see a guy like me, feel his sweat dripping on my face, his lips attacking mine as I try to stifle a scream. Girls piss me off. Those bitches get what I want without a question. I want to get bred, know that a real man is planting his seed in my hole, just using me to get off. I have to know my body, the body I work so hard for, is getting another dude off.

How did I become this way?

I always knew, deep down, I liked dudes. At least, I knew something was different about myself. I was a great athlete and excelled in every sport I played. I would do anything to become a specimen of masculinity and join the ranks of the hottest athletes in the school. So, I did. I have a strong drive. If I set my mind on something, I give it 110%. I surpassed all those guys I looked up to at school. It was no surprise that I had grown my body into that specimen of perfection in no time flat.

Working out, growing muscle, makes a horny fucker. Watching so much gay porn made me curious about getting fucked. Sure, fucking a dude would be hot but I wanted to know how it felt to bottom.

The catalyst was after I just turned eighteen and attended a football camp that summer before my freshman year, being held at a local university. I couldn't wait. I was looking forward to the training, the camaraderie and, of course, the showers. It was my time to get an eye full of prime muscular jock ass. I'd not had sex with a guy yet, but I had been experimenting with ass play; I acquired a dildo that I had to keep hidden in my room. When I was alone, I would beat off watching gay porn while I fucked myself with my vibrating dildo. I fucking loved it. I imagined a few of my teammates that I was crushing on or my coach, any hot masculine dude with a killer body, I imagined them laying into me and imagined the dildo was their cock.

I had sex with plenty of girls but nothing beyond that. I just hoped I wouldn't pop a bone in the locker room. That would not be a good thing.

We arrived the first morning and were given dorm assignments. Damn, I guess no locker room showers. We each had a roommate and a sponsor they called a "Big Brother". I found out the Big Brothers were the university's football players who had volunteered to train us and watch over us while we were there for the two weeks.

I met my roommate when I arrived at the room. Damn, he was hot! He was from a different school, so I didn't know him. I've probably played against him, just didn't pay attention. Everyone looks the same in a helmet. I watched him turn away and empty out his suitcase into a drawer. Wow, that ass! I know I would have recognized that butt in football pants. He was very attractive, a beautiful mix of half black and half white. He was huge. Not fat, but muscular, very muscular and cut. He was shorter than I was, I'd say six-foot, but the dude was stacked! I tried to divert my eyes and act like I wasn't checking out his ass and his arms all the time. I put up my alpha-shield so he wouldn't even question any look that might be construed as sexual.

"Hey man. I'm Jack," he said with a smile as he reached out for my hand.

"Hey," I grunted, ignoring his hand. Then I thought I didn't want him to think I was being a fucking racist by not shaking his hand. I reached out and took a firm grip and squeezed. He was going to feel my strength. "I'm Grant."

Jack grimaced and then smiled like it hadn't hurt but I know it did. It got awkward for a few seconds.

"Have you met our Big Brother yet?" he asked.

"Nope. God, I hope he's not a dick," I sneered. "Probably some douche who thinks he's going to bully us or something. Better not, I'll tear him up."

"Uh...yeah," Jack replied, thinking Grant was being a dick and suddenly contemplating whether he wanted to room with a guy like him. He thought he would try and make Grant feel more comfortable.

"I took this bed; I hope you don't mind. If you want it, it's no big deal." Jack smiled as he pointed to a bed near the window.

"No, dude. I'm not taking your fucking bed." I sneered, sounding like an ass. Once again, I was laying it on too thick, so I backed it off. "It's all good. Thanks for asking."

After that, we got to talking and realized we had a lot in common. He was a pretty cool dude. He was hot AND nice, maybe I should take pointers.

We finished unpacking and headed off to orientation in the sports complex. The auditorium was filled with soon-to-be college football players from all over the state, all in amazing shape, all ready to start training. Testosterone was thick in the air. It was fucking intoxicating. Nothing is more sexual to me than a room thick with athletes spewing their pheromones through the air. I long to ingest them, take them in and use them to fuel my body and my muscle. It fucking turned me on like none other.

The orientation was boring. It was long and mostly a bunch of rah-rah bullshit. I don't get into that crap. The only saving grace was the number of hot dudes all around me. It was time to get the show on the road. I came to play and train. I had dudes to dominate. Show these dick heads how good I am. Dominating another guy really fucking gets me going. It makes my dick hard knowing I just intimidated the fuck out of another dude. I fucking love it. When they see me on the field, they'll see I'm the better man.

I saw a few of my teammates from my home team and their training partners. I got along with everyone on the team as best I could. There were a couple I could do without, Bo Lindberg and Sean Johnston. Those two loved to get in my shit, always challenging me, testing me. It was a love/hate relationship for me because they were both hot as fuck. Sean was the hotter of the two, jacked with a beautiful body and a gorgeous face that always wore a permanent scowl, a "don't fuck with me" scowl. It was a shame because he has the whitest teeth I've ever seen and full pouty lips that begged to be kissed. But man, his ass was spectacular. It only rivaled my own. I wanted to be his football pants. Those pants got the pleasure of hugging that ass for hours. But he was a total dick, almost as much as me. Maybe we didn't get along because we were too much alike? I just knew that I didn't like him much and he didn't like me. But who am I kidding? I'd fuck that scowl right off his face and enjoy every minute of it.

After the orientation, we were corralled onto the practice field. There, we were met with a line-up of impressive studs, built with thick muscle, our Big Brothers. Jack and I made our way down the line to find our Big Bro. Each Big Brother was holding a placard with our names on them.

We made our way to the last guy in line. I looked at our names and then up at our Big Brother and my dick stiffened. The most beautiful dude was standing before me; he must have been six-foot-four, two-hundred-ten-pounds of carved muscle, bronze skin, jet black hair, clean-cut and the whitest teeth I've ever seen, whiter than Sean's. He was imposing, so broad and muscular. Why can't dudes like HIM be gay?

But there was something about the way he looked at me when I looked up at him. The corner of his lip raised in a sneer. What was that look for? I couldn't help but take him in. He was wearing a tight, maroon, compression shirt that was like a second skin, molding to his pillow-like pecs, tight against his cobblestone abs. The shirt had the university mascot on the right side of his chest, The Titan, a muscular silhouette of a superhero. I'd watched The Titans on TV and always thought they had a sexy mascot. (Whoever they picked to don the costume during football games should be given a scholarship. That dude was fuckable.) Our Big Brother wore a pair of skin-tight, shiny, black compression tights and black Nike running shoes. He was a specimen. I was speechless...for once. I was a little jealous because I'd finally met my match. He could out alpha any other alpha. His stance, his aura gave off a masculine charged energy that permeated my body. My stomach fluttered and I think I lost my breath. No dude has ever made me feel like a fucking six- grade girl with a crush.

He stood with a heroic wide stance; arms folded over his broad chest.

"Hello, ladies," condescendingly, he greeted us with a deep, baritone voice. Fuck, he's only said one word and I'm already in love. "I'm Rob. I'll be your Big Bro while you're here."

Jack introduced himself first. "Hey, I'm Jack. Nice to meet you," he said with a bright smile as he shook Rob's hand.

"Hey, Jack," Rob replied.

Jack suddenly got excited. "Rob Blazer?"

Rob grinned and looked very proud of himself. "Yeah, bro. That's me."

I realized I had seen him play on TV. He's a running back and he is amazing. They say he'll go straight into the pros. He's way hotter in real life.

"Nice! Cool, huh?" Jake said nudging my elbow.

I shrugged. I don't why I did what I did but I gave him a bored look. I guess I didn't like the attention he was getting from Jack.

"Obviously, you're Grant," Rob said as if I should be honored to hear him say my name. But when he did say my name, my heart made a hard thump in my chest.

Rob reached for my hand. His grip was strong and forceful. He gripped my hand hard, and it hurt. Out of force of habit, I went into Alpha-mode and looked him in the eye with defiance. His eyes laser-focused on mine. I don't care how hot this guy is, he's not disrespecting me like this. I tried to grip tighter, but he matched it and then some. He knew. He knew I was an alpha and he knew I was in awe of him. I had broken the first rule of being an Alpha: never let another alpha know he might be better than you.

"Hey...uh...hey," I stammered. I was suddenly intimidated. What the fuck was wrong with me? I sound like an idiot. "I'm Grant."

No doubt he had heard of me. I was the best high school level tight-end around, kind of a big deal back in the high school football world. His stare penetrated and I swallowed hard. For the first time in my life, I was intimidated. I was intimidated and I fucking hated it. I hated it but I couldn't help it. I was drawn to him. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was please him. I found myself way out of my comfort zone, but I felt an excitement shoot through me. Who the fuck is this guy? I need to know.

He was still gripping my hand and then cocked an eyebrow. "Yeah, I know. I already said that." Oh god, he did think I was an idiot.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. You did. Sorry. Nice to meet you," I blubbered as I tried to pull my hand from his. He held on and pulled back. I jerked it away and he smirked.

Rob looked me up and down. He looked like he was sizing me up. I recognized the look. I've been sized up before by many competitors. He smiled at me and then winked. My dick jumped. I hope Jack didn't see that. I almost threw up in my mouth from the sudden anxiety that formed in my stomach. What the fuck is happening to me? I don't get anxious, not like this. No one has ever made me feel like this, like a total amateur. That's it. I felt like I suddenly didn't know shit about anything. I questioned myself, my masculinity, my athletic skills. Even without even catching a ball today and I felt like I sucked. I didn't want him to see me like this. It made me angry. I was seething but I didn't want him to know it. I wanted to please him. I didn't know why.

Rob tossed the football in the air in front of him and nonchalantly caught it and bobbled it back and forth. "Alright guys. Here is how we're going to do this bitch," he said like an arrogant frat boy.

Rob explained the procedures and the schedules. While he was talking, he held his gaze on me for long periods of time. I kept getting a flutter in my stomach and my heart would race every time he looked at me. There was something going on there. I didn't know what it was, but it was electric. I wasn't good at detecting if someone was gay but I kept getting that stupid twitch in my stomach when he looked at me. Does he know about me?

Throughout the day, we worked hard with Rob. We went through drills and routes in the hot sun. Rob took off his shirt at one point and all his ripped beauty was out there for me to ogle. I couldn't help but stare. Rob caught me a few times. He just smirked and moved on. It really seemed he was spending more time working with me than with Jack. Jack and I were supposed to be partners but somehow it felt as if it was just Rob and me. Like no one else existed.

After we were done for the day, Rob walked between us with his arms around our shoulders. He said he would see us later that evening at the BBQ the camp was hosting at the park on campus. As we turned to leave, Rob swatted us both on the ass and left.

We walked back to our room, both stiff and sweaty. "Dude, Rob is fucking intense," Jack said.

"Yeah, he's amazing," I said in a trance-like-state. I suddenly thought I may sound too enamored, so I walked it back. "A total dick but I guess he knows what he's fucking doing."

"Sometimes though, it seemed like he paid more attention to you. I guess he likes you better," Jack teased.

"Nah, man, just means I needed more help than you," I said sarcastically knowing what he said was true. I laughed and slapped him on the back.

Later, we arrived at the BBQ a little late. I was mingling with some of the other players, trying to intimidate as many as possible with my body and alpha attitude, talking shit. Then I spotted Rob on the other side of the park by himself drinking a beer. He was staring at me, and his gaze never changed direction. I felt his eyes on me like heat rays. I tried to look away, but it was tough. I kept looking back to see if he was looking at me. He always was. What the fuck was with this guy? Why does he keep staring at me? Is he challenging me?

I didn't know what to do, confront him or ignore him but then he signaled me to come over. I looked around then pointed at myself asking "me?" He nodded and gestured with a quick flip of his head. As if I was tethered to an invisible rope that he pulled, I made my way through the amped up crowed of football recruits towards the gorgeous, arrogant fucker.

I took him in as I walked towards him. I strutted trying not to look anxious. He was freshly showered, tight t-shirt, fitted shorts, leather flip-flops. He was leaning back, sitting on a waist-high rock wall. He stared at me the whole walk over, his handsome face had a blank expression. Now, I was in front of him and still all he did was stare. I suddenly felt self-conscious. This was a new feeling for me. I felt my eyes lower, and I looked down nervously not knowing what to say or do. What the fuck is he doing to me?