Forced Slutty Transformation Ch. 01

Small towns are all the same. Racists, cows, and that one weird racist guy who sleeps with the cows. Personally, I just wanted to leave my town. My name is Carter, and this is how I went from promising high school student with a bright future, to a strung out slut, desperate for sex. I'm white, about 6 feet tall, and I'm built like a swimmer. That is, fairly muscular, almost no fat, tan skin, and bleached blonde hair.

I'm often described as "a beach hottie," and with my 7 inch cock I do pretty well with girls- well, did. I'm a junior at our high school, and captain of the swim team. I had just finished an extra set after Wednesday practice (because I was late, because the line for the vending machine was too long) when the trouble all began. My teammates had already left, and I had the high school locker room to myself. I used my personal key- a perk of being a captain, and let myself in. My favorite thing to do, after a long practice, is to sit in the handicap stall and just soak in the water. I was doing that, just blissing out, when I hear somebody else in the shower area. I didn't worry about it, my curtain was closed, and I kept chilling. I heard them leave, and then come back in. I assumed they had forgotten their towel, and ignored them. That was a mistake. Out of nowhere, the curtain to my stall gets whisked away, and somebody shoves me down onto the bench I'm sitting on. I struggle, but this guy is strong. I try to shove him off, but he grabs my balls and says "Fight me, and I'll rip these off," and SQUEEZES.

I scream, but of course, nobody is around. Then I feel cold metal, a weird contrast to warm hands, wrap around my cock. And then I hear a click.

"What the hell, man!?!" I ask, enraged and confused. My attacker lets me up, and I see Roy Archer, the new football star, a fellow junior, and all around school stud. He's white, 6'4", 250lbs, absolutely shredded, and has a brown hair blue eyed combination that makes all the ladies swoon. And some of the guys, I guess. Not that I knew that at the time. He's wearing a tight sleeveless top, with pads over the top, running shorts, and cleats.

"Seriously, what the fuck, dude?" I asked again.

Roy grinned at me, and said "It's just a chastity device."

"A what?"

"A chastity device. This way, you can't cum unless I unlock you."

I shoved him out of the stall, and looked down at my dick. It was shoved into this weird cage looking thing, all stainless steel, and did indeed have a lock on it.

"What the hell? Take it off me dude!" I yelled.

"Shhh" Roy mock-whispered "Don't want anyone to find out." But he made no move to remove it.

"Just take it off, asshole!"

"No can do, bud. See, my girlfriend graduated last year, and I want a new cocksucker. And everybody knows that swimmers are fags." And he grinned again.

"I'm not a fag! Also, fucking unlock me or I'll kick your ass!" I threatened. At that, Roy just puffed his chest up, and glared at me. Against 250 pounds if muscle, on dry land, while naked, I realized I didn't have much of a chance. I cowered, and he laughed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought, fag."

I grabbed my towel from the rack, and covered myself, suddenly self conscious. While I did that, I started thinking.

"Fine, I'll just cut it off" I said.

"Yeah, and lose your dick."

"Fuck you, I'll go to Doc Avery and get him to remove it!" I said, realizing I had a solution.

Roy laughed again, making me concerned. "Sure. Go right ahead. But it's a small town. You know how we all talk. People will know you're a pervert. After all, why else would you lock yourself into a chastity device."

"But I didn't!"

"And everyone will know that? Hah, I don't think so."

I realized Roy was right. If I told anyone, even the doctor, people might find out. And then goodbye friends, recommendations from teachers, or any sort of extracurricular activity. Which would mean no college for me, and no leaving this shitty town. I was so stressed I sat back down on the bench.

"Please, man, just take it off." I begged Roy, as the situation became clear to me.

"Oh, I will," he said. I brightened at this, but then he continued. "But first, you're going to pose for some photos for me."

"No, fuck you man."

"Fine, have it your way," Roy replied, "but when you need to cum, you have my number." And then he walked out of the showers.

I rushed after him, and tried to grab him, but he shoved me off into one of the lockers. I slipped, and fell, and by the time I had gotten up, he had walked out the far end of the locker room. Knowing I couldn't run after him naked, I hurriedly dried off and pulled on my clothes, struggling a bit to get underwear over my new chastity device. I raced out to the parking lot, but by the time I got there, I saw Roy's red truck pulling out of the school parking lot.

"Fuck," I think to myself. "Just great. This can't be real. Fuck me," and so on. Grudgingly, I walked over to my car, a silver Prius, and drive home, thinking similar thoughts the whole way.

I realized I can't call him, because I'm not letting him take fucking pictures of me. And why would he want to? Roy Archer couldn't be some sort of closet gay guy, he was legendary for sleeping with three cheerleaders in one night. No, there had to be some other reason for it. Blackmail? No, he didn't dislike me, and there was nothing I had that he wanted. What had he said? Something about a new cocksucker. Fuck that, I wasn't gay and I wasn't going to suck his cock. No, I'd figure out how to get the device off myself.

Late that night, around 11:30, I realized how hopeless my situation was. After an awkward dinner with my mom, and some serious internet research, all I had to show was oily hands and sore balls. What was worse, all the tugging and pulling had just made me horny, despite how much it had hurt. That was when I knew I was in trouble.

The next morning, after a night of shitty sleep and stressful dreams, I had a plan. I wore my baggiest sweats, my tightest jockstrap, a long t-shirt, and checked my mirror. I couldn't see the bulge from the device, so I figured I was okay. I headed off to school, intending to corner Roy and get him to take the device off. We had first period Spanish together, so I knew I could talk to him before class started. Imagine my surprise, and dawning horror, when he didn't show up. By the time the bell rang, I was freaking out. If he didn't show up, I would have to wear this thing all day. Oh god, swim practice! I couldn't hide it under my speedo! I spent the whole day panicking, avoiding my friends at lunch by claiming I had to study for a History test the next day. Which I did, but wasn't exactly on my list of priorities. A couple of times throughout the day, I saw a hot chick, and started to get an erection. I was more sensitive than usual, because I hadn't been able to jack off that last night. But my cage kept me from getting hard, and I could feel myself leaking precum. It was awful. Eventually, school got out, and time for practice rolled around. I lagged back, because I knew I couldn't get naked in front of the other guys like I normally did. By the time I changed, pulled on a suit, and then an extra drag suit to cover my unusual bulge, I was late. And the bulge was still sort of visible.

"Late again, Carter?" my coach asked, shaking his head. "That's another extra set."

I nodded, actually relieved, because that solved my problem of getting naked after practice. I hopped into my lane, and my friend, Mack, commented on my drag suit. I told him I wanted to get started early for championships that year, and he shrugged and forgot about it. Practice went mostly without a hitch, except when Mack's hand brushed the chastity device and he gave me a weird look. After practice, I made sure to take my time with the extra set, so that the locker room would be empty. Once I was changed, I called Roy.

"Okay, asshole. I want this thing off," I said.

"Meet me at my house. You've been to parties here before, right?" I had, and said as much. "Okay, fag, come on over." I hung up, and did as he said. What choice did I have?