Part 1 of 1
This photo was taken on a private college campus, in the dean’s office. The student, Stevie Tanner, was a little shocked to hear his name called out over the public address system followed by, “Please go to the office of the Dean of Admissions, immediately.” He thought he was in trouble and that something was wrong with his desperately needed, year-long scholarship. Were they going to take it back?
Stevie had a great reputation throughout his high school years of being a very fast swimmer and had already received nationwide notice. This young man could bring the school much attention, elevating its status for years to come. No wonder the school staff made such an effort to maneuver him to choose this school; they wanted him to become their darling of the swim team.
The guy on the right is not the Dean of Admissions, however. He is the head swim coach; the dean was not there that day. The fellow taking photos, Harry, is the coach’s assistant. Why is the coach using the dean’s office? Well, there is an air of higher authority there, as well as the presumed approval from the dean in regards to anything that transpires there. The dean’s secretary escorted Stevie Tanner into the office.
“Tanner, I know you are new here, but we need to take some publicity photos of you to advertise the upcoming swim meet. The action shots will be at the pool, but we also need standard poses of you,” said the coach as he checked out the impeccable way this student dressed. “So get into your Speedos so we can quickly get you back to your classes.”
“Coach, I need to run over to the gym and get them,” the boy said since he had arrived at the office off-guard and unprepared, but he was eager to comply with his new coach’s wishes. In no way did he want to irritate the man who helped get him his scholarship.
“No, no, no, Tanner, we don’t have time,” Coach told him, faking a bit of frustration in his voice, but knowing quite well the boy would arrive exactly as unprepared as he did. To his assistant, he ordered, “Harry, go to the storeroom, and get him a suit.” And off went Harry.
To the young impressionable student, Coach said, “Go ahead and start undressing, let me see how we’re going to do this.” Once the student had stripped to the waist, Coach added, “Better just to strip down now, so I can see how this office light reflects off your skin.”
The student looked around for a place to go and realized he was to strip here. As the coach looked away at some papers on the desk to give the boy a sense of his disinterest, the boy took that as a signal to strip the rest of the way, nervously dropping each item of clothing on the floor. Knowing full well the student was completely naked as “ordered,” the coach looked up at him with a phony surprised smile and said, “Tanner, I meant just to strip down to your underwear.”
Embarrassed by the coach’s remark, Stevie started to lean over to reclaim his Jockey shorts, but the coach interrupted, “Oh, never mind those now, just stand over there. Quickly, Tanner.” At that Harry reentered the office, but with no Speedos. “Coach, I didn’t see any over there.”
“Oh crap. OK, OK, get back to your camera and lets at least frame out a few face shots. Tanner,” the coach said as he firmly grabbed the boy on his bare shoulder turning his body for better lighting, “Face me, put your profile to the lens. That may work, now what about a full body, head-to-toe shot? Let me think.”
“I know. Tanner, stand back there, just in front of that dark-blue tile, where you piled your clothes.” The coach, who was pretending worry, muddled aloud, “We need a swimsuit. Oh, wait … let me check with the dean’s secretary.” The coach stepped back to the dean’s desk and pushed the intercom button on the phone. “Mrs. Waters? Would you come in here please?” Stevie who was in a panic, just stepped back up against the wall behind him, unaware he was actually standing on his clothes.
Wisely, Harry quickly moved the camera behind his back, as the office door opened and Mrs. Waters entered, walking straight in toward the coach, and not noticing the naked boy in the corner. “Yes?” she asked, feeling a little awkward since she was the dean’s secretary and knew nothing about the coach’s area of sports concerns.
“Are you familiar with the new centralized stock-room system? We are trying to find our supply of swimsuits we ordered for the team.” Just as Mrs. Waters opened her mouth to respond, the coach stopped her. “Oh, stupid me, I forgot to introduce you to our new star speed swimmer, Stevie Tanner. He just arrived here a week ago on scholarship.” The coach made a pointing gesture to the corner behind her.
He continued in a laughing tone, “Tanner showed up to be photographed for the swim-meet poster and, I guess, being a little nervous, he can’t remember where his Speedos swam off to.” The coach wanted to avoid the shock Mrs. Waters might feel at the sight of a naked student in her boss’s office. His pretend joking worked. She was totally disarmed as she also smiled at the boy’s embarrassment, but at least she tried to hide her grin.
Stepping over to the blushing student and smiling broadly, she put out her hand, “How do you do, and welcome to our college, Mr. Tanner.” The student shook the woman’s hand, as his body trembled from the humiliation of being naked in front of this woman, so much so, he could not utter a sound.
The coach continued with his humor: “Mrs. Waters, do you think we overpaid for this star swimmer who can’t even keep track of one tiny, teeny, itsy-bitsy Speedo?” Everyone gave a belly laugh, except Stevie, who turned redder and flashed a sheepish grin. “God, Tanner, that thing was about as wide as a piece of yarn; you could have just taped it behind your ear.” More laughter.
As Mrs. Waters regained her composure and was about to turn away from the fully exposed student, she told the coach, “I’ll see if I can find the sports department’s supplies.” The coach thanked her, knowing damn well that no Speedos were ever ordered. “Oh, Mrs. Waters? Before you leave, would you kindly pick Stevie’s clothes off the floor before he wrinkles them? We’re trying to frame out some headshots there.”
“Sure.” Smiling pleasantly, she stooped down and tapped the freaked out boy’s naked leg to have him lift his feet off his clothes. He tried just to step backward, but he was already against the wall and “trapped” with Mrs. Waters on the floor in front of him. Oddly, instead of her hurriedly scooping up the clothes, she stayed anchored there picking up each item, looking it over, and carefully folding it, to make a neat pile. Her thigh and hip were actually rubbing on Stevie’s naked leg and the back of her hand was occasionally “accidentally” touching his barefoot as she lingered there arranging the clothes to be picked up and placed on the dean’s desk.
Mrs. Waters seemed to be obviously fondling Stevie’s underwear. But just as she started to rise up with her arms full of Stevie’s clothes, she heard the phone ring on her desk in the lobby. She hurriedly left the office, shutting that door, absentmindedly bringing the stack of Stevie’s clothes to her own desk.
“God, where’s that bitch’s fucking mind go? What does she expect, you to go back to class bare-assed naked?” The coached shook his head in wonderment. “Harry, let’s get some shots anyway; we’ve been wasting too much of this young man’s time. Once we see which of these shots work, we can repeat them when he manages to find his tiny little dick warmer. ”
“OK Tanner, listen up. We’re going to take a few special photos of you. First, I want you to face away from Harry, feet wide apart, bend way, way over, grab your ankles, and bring your cute adorable puppy face down between your legs to smile at the camera. Then I want you to stick your hungry wet puppy tongue way out like you’re begging me for a treat.
Stevie Tanner was in total shock just looking at his coach with a blank stare, trying to process what he thought he heard. “Tanner, now don’t worry. I know what you are thinking, but listen up, pup. I phoned your dad this morning. He too was worried about your next year’s college tuition fees, and told me he can’t afford any costs like that.” Stevie’s head was spinning and his stomach was queasy. Confused and trembling, he tried to speak up, “My dad? You spoke with ….” Stevie’s voice trailed off.
“Your dad’s a great guy. Isn’t he?” Stevie nodded his head. “He must have been teary-eyed when I told him not to worry about your next year’s costs because I will take good care of our little swimmer boy. Yes Sir, but I gave him a serious warning, ‘As long as your son follows my personal training program and obeys all my rules, he will have another scholarship next year too, and maybe for all four years.’ He mentioned that you go home on weekends. Well, I just flat out asked him if it would be OK that you do not go home for a while because I intend to take personal control over your life and you’ll be pretty much tied up in very special training sessions.”
"Your daddy thanked me over and over again, pleading with me, saying stuff like, ‘Please do whatever you need to do with my Stevie, please … I don’t want my boy to have to drop out next year … He needs a determined coach like you … Please. You have my full permission … I appreciate all you are doing and going to do for my son.’“
“Then I told your dad, not to worry, ‘I like your son. He has a lot of potential. I can turn him into something really special.’ Then I hesitated, like a new thought just occurred to me, and told him, ‘I’ll tell you what. I’d be willing to go out on a limb here for you and offer to manage your son’s scholarship funds. That way we can be assured he’ll toe the line.’ Your dad was so fucking happy. He asked me to send him all the necessary paperwork so he could authorize my financial control of you, starting immediately. Isn’t that great?”
“But ... but … I can manage my ….” Stevie tried to interrupt.
“You can’t even manage your own clothes? You let that bitch run off with them, didn’t you, pup?” Stevie just absentmindedly nodded in agreement. “Besides, you’d spend that money all wrong. Wouldn’t you, pup? I mean, you would never have even thought about buying yourself a nice studded, black leather dog collar, would you? Or how about a shiny chain leash? Would you have thought of that? Can you say, no Sir?” Stevie again just shook his spinning head in agreement.
“Yes, but it’s now all arranged. Shame about his accident and his wheelchair thing... Anyway, here's the deal, you play ball with me and I’ll see that you get a full, 4-year scholarship and become a champion swimmer to boot. I talked your dad into … tricked him actually ... to put me in charge of all your finances. It’ll be all signed and legal. So, all you need to do is behave.” Stevie was stunned and started to feel dizzy. He could not believe the coach was manipulating his entire world.
“Fuck, pup; you’d just waste those funds anyway. Why … you’d use it to go out to fancy restaurants and buy dates expensive dinners. Wouldn’t you? Restaurants are too expensive for you, pup. A good can of dog food has all the protein you need. By the way, do you prefer chicken based or liver based dog food? Or, … maybe we’ll try the dry kibble, it’s a lot cheaper. But … never mind that now. I’ll see what there is at the pet store tomorrow. ” Turning abruptly to his assistant, “Harry, make a note to remind me to get pup a doggie dish, and the collar and leash. Oh, yes, and for fun, pup needs a chew toy.”
Though light-headed, it was all sinking in, bit by bit, into Stevie’s brain. “Sir, I can’t ... I don’t think ... My dad can’t ... he wouldn’t … I … I …” He stopped himself. A tear came down his cheek as he started to realize that his coach owned him, and his father, who he loved so much for all the self-sacrificing efforts he made to keep his family fed, was unwittingly sealing his fate.
“Oh stop with all the drama crap, pup. At school, you’ll be the star of the swim team. And at home … Oh, did I mention that I am not going to waste your scholarship funds on those expensive dorm fees? So, you’ll be moving in with me.” Turning back to Harry, “Better add a doggie bed to your pet supply list, don't want pup to sleep on the cold floor.” Harry wrote down everything the coach told him to.
All Stevie’s fond images of a sociable, enjoyable college life were quickly fading away. The coach spoke again, “Hey, cheer up, you’ll be my little toy stud puppy,… isn’t this great! Think how much you will be pleasing your dad when he sees you as a champion swimmer. No tuition, no worries, no decisions to make. Isn’t this wonderful? Go ahead, pup, say, yes Sir.” Instead, he mumbled, more to himself, ”No decisions? ... Ah ... doggie bed?”
“Razor blades, I’ll need a large supply of those disposable blades to get all that hair off of you. I mean, except for school use, you won’t have any clothes at home. Do you want me to look at that hairy body of yours? Do you, pup? God! A little pussy pup with manly hair around your dick and balls, now that’s a laugh! But don’t worry, I'll train you to shave your body every other day from the neck down. Harry,” the coach nearly shouted, “He’ll also need a large hand mirror so he can see to shave the crack of his ass. Can you say, thank you, Sir? … Maybe we’ll try the permanent hair removal cream; well … I’ll figure that out later. I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry”
Stevie was in a dream-like state, faintly shaking his head, but said nothing aloud. So the coach again looked at Harry, “He’s going to need a metal cage, for when he needs discipline. I mean, what if I have my buddies over and pup here, forgets how a dog is supposed to prance around naked on all fours, happily wiggling his butt. And greeting my guests by eagerly sniffing everyone's dick or asshole. Or ... maybe I'll host a summer pool party and pup hesitates to show us all how he learned to pee by lifting his leg and hosing down the trunk of my elm tree.”
The coach stared at Stevie, in a serious way, to encourage an overt affirmative reaction from him, but was not getting one. Without turning his glaring stare away from Stevie, he told Harry, “Let’s add a flogger and a hardwood handball paddle to that list. Pup may need his bubble butt warmed and red to help him learn faster.” The coach was holding back nothing to convince Stevie to comply. "I know what would be cool. I can invite your sweet daddy over to one of my special parties with my buds. I can toss a large dildo across the room and have you fetch it. This way he can see how well your ... ah ... 'training' is coming along." Stevie stood there physically drained and totally defeated. In a barely audible whisper, he said, “Please?”
“Please? Please what, pup? Please let you be my stud puppy? Please don't involve your daddy? Please continue with the photo shoot? Is that it pup? Is that what you want?”
“Yes Sir,” was all the boy said as he stared blankly at his owner. “Good pup. Well then, … if that's what you want ... go ahead, … come on, pup, get into the proper position, like I told you.” Stevie then turned his back to Harry, spread his legs apart, bent over and grabbed his ankles, and showed his frowning face between his legs.
"Ok, ok, ... but that's not quite right. pup. First, spread your legs wider." He did as he was told, staying in the bent-over position. "Now, instead of grabbing your ankles, reach behind you and put one hand on each ass cheek and pull those honey buns apart so we can see your pussy hole." Stevie just stood bent over, looking between his legs at his upside-down coach, not letting go of his ankles.
"What's wrong, pup? Don't you know how to grab and spread your cheeks? You need someone to assist you in displaying your pretty little rosebud fuck hole?" Without waiting for any response from Stevie, the coach reached over to the intercom again and pretended to press the button. He bent over it and spoke loudly,
"Mrs. Waters, I'm going to need your assistance in here...." That’s all it took for Stevie to immediately whimper, “Oh, please no. Not now, not her. Oh fuck. With me like this? Look, look, Sir, I'm doing it all by myself.” He quickly grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled them wide apart. The coach was pleased but wanted to be assured the student would fully comply. The coach stalled, then leaned over to the intercom again, "Hold on Mrs. Waters, one moment..."
"That's better, pup, but just not exactly what I asked for, is it? Did you forget about the smile and the tongue thing?" Stevie cocked his head at an angle to the right and forced himself to make a big, stupid-looking, red-faced grin as he stared between his thighs, at his coach. Then without further prompting, he stuck out the long, wet, tongue and made panting sounds. Stevie cocked his head back to the left and then to the right, and stuck his tongue out as for as possible, panting and praying that his coach would not ask the secretary to come into the office again.
In between his brief dog-panting displays, he pleaded, “Please Sir, Please. Start taking the photos.” More panting, “Yes Sir, please begin now. Can you see my fuck hole okay Sir?" More exaggerated panting as he tried to convince the coach he was now with the program. "Woof, woof. Oh, please, God. Am I positioned correctly, Sir?" There was louder panting now. "Oh fuck, Sir, I don't need any assistance. I’m ready now, Sir. Please photo me as you wish?”
Satisfied with this stage of Stevie’s submission, the coach continued his fake intercom call as he leaned over it again, "Never mind, Mrs. Water, the problem resolved itself." And to Harry, he said, "You can scratch off the flogger, but leave the paddle on the list, just in case." Yes, Stevie was showing submission, but the coach knew that he had a long way to go to complete his humiliating descent into total submission.
Smiling broadly, he told Stevie, “Yes, I think that will do nicely. Ok Harry, click away." And Harry did. The coach sat down at the desk and took out an empty envelope and started to write on it, speaking to Stevie at the same time, “Oh … and pup, don’t worry about your clothes. In about an hour, when all the students flood the lobby as they leave their classes, you will go out into that lobby as naked as you are now to Mrs. Waters’ desk and ask her for your clothes. Secondly, you will ask her if you may get dressed right there by the side of her desk.”
Stevie, whimpering, crying, making a big forced clownish smile, all at the same time, pleaded in his bent over position, "But ... Sir, I'll be good, please ... not out there. See, I’m a good pup. I'll be good. Woof, woof. See Sir? I can dress in here, please?" Then he added more panting as the camera flashed repeatedly.
"Well, at least you're off on the right foot ... or should I say, 'paw.'" The coach said confidently. "Oh yes, pup, and you'll soon learn to obey me without question or hesitation. You see, I just addressed an envelope to your poor, sick daddy. I even put a stamp on it. I'm going to keep this in plain sight in our home. It will be your constant reminder that at any time you hesitate to obey me, I will fucking print a couple of these photos and mail them off to your daddy. Then the coach raised his voice to a near yell. "Now, I am fucking sure you will be totally delighted to get your naked bitch ass out there and dress in the lobby." Stevie immediately barked in agreement, adding a loud and clear, “Yes Sir!”
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