The Set Up

NOTICE:  All the Standard warnings about being of age, being aware of your community standards apply to the following story!  Please read no farther if you are underage.  If you are not 18/21--or live in a conservative area--or are offended by explicit sexual stories.

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This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone is strictly coincidental.  Stimle (smapdi@mindspring.com) and Glaucon55 (glaucon55@aol.com) have joined together to create this work.

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Synopsis:  A straight, homophobic border patrol agent is set up by his partner to learn humility and obeisance after losing a bet.

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I don't know how I could have been so completely naive, walking right into it like I did.  Looking back, I should've seen it coming.  The whole thing was a set up.  I didn't even realize it was happening, and by the time I got a clue it was too late.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I guess I should start off by telling you about myself.  My name is Brian Ryder and I live in San Diego.  I'm married, 30 years old, 6'3 tall and 210 pounds.  I played football in college at Tulsa and after I graduated I moved west, met my wife and settled down.  I have brown hair and eyes and I'm in pretty good shape, still jogging and lifting weights to keep fit.  I consider myself good looking, at least that was what the girls I banged in college always said.  I did some print modeling in high school and college for a local department store chain.  Some sportswear, but mainly underwear.  I think they liked checking out the bulge in my briefs.  I used to get so horned up that even with wearing two pairs of underwear in the shots my dick still wouldn't behave and I'd have to go "relieve" myself halfway through the shoot.  But that was ages ago; about ten years.  Not that I've changed much.  I mean, like I said, I'm still in great shape and I still get lots of looks and offers from girls at the office and when I go out with the boys to bars.

I'm a Border Patrol Agent here in San Diego.  Eight years now.  I've had a new partner since last Fall.  His name's Tim.  Although he's a twenty-year veteran, he's only forty.  We hit it off pretty good from the start.  We're both into sports - any kind of sports - and we compete all the time.  Tim's in great shape for his age, slightly graying, but built like a football tailback, 5'9", stocky and thick, but still sporting his six-pack.  He's a hairy beast, too, from the dark shadow on his face to the sprouts of hair on his toes, and everywhere in between.  I've often kidded him in the showers at work that he needs to get a shave, a body shave---no girl wants to sleep with a guy whose covered in bristles---but he just laughs, and gets more pussy than a bachelor his age ought to.

The stakes between Tim and me began to escalate a few months ago.  Our occasional physical competitions morphed into bets on any other form of competition.  Then we decided that money wasn't enough anymore as stakes, so we turned to other things.  He had to clean my house when Syracuse won the NCAA Championships and I had to landscape his yard when Houston won the NBA Championships.   

And then baseball season started.  Baseball is my game, the Cubs are my team, and with the year they were having I started getting cocky.  When they made it to the playoffs I ended up betting the farm.  I bet Tim they'd go to the World Series and would win.  I was so confident my Cubbies were going take it all that I told Tim there were no holds barred on the stakes. 

Tim decided the winner would get to humiliate the loser.  I was all for that!  Tim was cool and all, but sometimes he got on my nerves with his know-it-all, ballsy attitude.  He could get pretty cocky and I thought it would be nice to take him down a peg or two.  I figured that since it stays pretty warm here in San Diego, I'd arrange a beach barbeque and volleyball game and Tim would have to come wearing a thong swimsuit displaying his oversized schlong for every person on the beach to see.  I couldn't wait!

But then came Game 6 of the NL Championship Series and Steve Bartman.  The fan who reached out when Moises Alou was going for the foul ball... you know the story... the gaffe seen around the world...the curse of Waverly Avenue.

Well, that did it for me.  The Cubs spiraled out of control and ended up losing it all.  I was crushed.  Not that I had lost the bet, but that my Cubs were once again not going to the big dance.  To make matters worse, Tim lorded it over me for days, rubbing it in whenever he could.  He also told me he couldn't wait for my humiliation.  I figured it would be awful for a day, but I'd live through it.  After all, what's the worst a lug like him could up with?

So, last Friday afternoon, about mid-way through out patrol, Tim tells me it's time for him to collect on the bet.  He said he couldn't wait.  My wife had been in Fresno for the past week visiting her sister who'd just had a baby and she was supposed to get home late tonight.  I figured tonight was as good a time as any.

Although I didn't know what he had in mind, I wasn't too concerned.  It couldn't be worse than what I had had planned for him.  Boy, was I wrong!  As we were leaving work he told me his plan was to take me to a gay bar for the night.  He said he had some gay friends and since I was always making snide comments about fags, a night in a gay bar might be just what I needed.  I was blown away.  First of all, I couldn't imagine a pussy hound like Tim having any gay friends.  Christ, he was a cop after all!  I know there are gay cops, but they tend to stick together so you don't have to worry about them staring at you in the shower, or trying to get into your pants.  The thought of Tim even knowing faggots had blown me away... pardon the pun.

He says I'm homophobic but I don't think I am.  I don't like it when faggots check me out and shit, but then who does?  Now I was going to have to go into a bar with a crowd of cocksuckers.  Jeez, how did I lose the fucking bet... the curse of Waverly Avenue had bigger consequences than most Cub fans could possibly imagine.  My asshole tightened at the thought of being anyway near a queer.

The biggest thing I didn't like about how Tim played out the wager was that I was still in uniform.  But there wasn't anything I could do since Tim and I carpool to work and it was his week to drive.  I rarely bring a change of clothes to work unless I'm going to work out, usually wearing my uniform to and from work, and this Friday was no different.  Of course, Tim had brought a change of clothes.  Fucker.

Oh well, so I walk into a gay bar in my uniform.  Big fuckin' whoop.  More for the queers to lust over, and after all if I'm in uniform, maybe they'd back off.

We ended up at some hole in the wall place in Chula Vista.  I don't even remember the name, just that it was a gay bar.  We arrived at the bar and parked the car.  Tim had already changed into his civvies, so it was just me in my uniform.  As we entered the bar I got a bunch of whistles right off the bat.  I blushed.  A guy was coming over to us.  Shit!  It was Jessie, Tim's former partner and now our supervisor.  He stuck out his hand, smiling.  "Brian!  Glad you could make it."

"Like I had a choice," I said good-naturedly, reluctantly shaking his hand.

We sat down at a table that was right in front of a stage.  A totally effeminate looking guy came over to take our drink order.  He was wearing a tank top and black short-shorts.  His smooth ass cheeks were hanging out.  It was disgusting, the way he walked, how he talked, and how he looked at me.  His name was Manny.  What kind of faggot name is that?  Tim ordered a rum and coke, I ordered a Corona, and Jessie ordered a Cosmopolitan.  "A Cosmopolitan?" I asked.  "You'd better watch out, Jessie.  Some of the boys in here might think you bat for their team"

Jessie laughed and we talked about how I lost the bet and stuff until our server came with our drinks.  "So, this is it," I said to Tim, pushing the lime into my Corona and taking a swig.  "You're gonna make me sit here with a bunch of fags and waste a perfectly good Friday night.  How lame."  I took another drink. 

Tim looked at Jessie and then at me.  They were both smiling.  "Oh, there's more, Brian," he said.

I finished my beer.  "What?"

Tim could barely contain his smile.  "See that stage?" he asked, pointing to an area behind me. 

"Yeah."

"Well, you gotta dance for us.  A striptease."

I swallowed hard.  "What?  You're kidding?"

"Nope," Tim replied.  "You said no holds barred, remember?" 

I nodded, slowly realizing that Tim was serious. 

"You were soooo sure your Cubs were going all the way.  And you were so cocky about it.  No backing out now."

I shook my head.  "I know, I know," I said, "but this is different.  I mean, dancing in front of a bunch of faggots and stripping... that's not cool."  I did NOT want to go through with this, and although I wasn't one to welch on a bet, I hoped I could talk him out of it.  When it was clear he wasn't going to let me out of this jackpot, I said what any red-blooded straight male would, "You're a fuckin' asshole."

"I know," he replied, grinning, "but you lost the best and you still have to strip."  I looked him straight in the eyes.  I laughed.  I couldn't help it.  He had the perfect humiliation all lined up for me.  I signaled for our server to come on over.

"Give me another beer," I said as he walked up.  "And get these two asswipes whatever they want."  Tim and Jessie ordered a shot of whisky each. 

"Oh, and nice idea making me wear my uniform, Tim," I said as the server walked away.

"I thought it would add the right touch.  At least I'm not gonna make you wear a g-string."

I shot him a dirty look but couldn't help suppressing a giggle.  This was bordering on ridiculous now.  "You set this up perfectly, didn't you?  These fags are gonna have a field day checking me out."

"Don't flatter yourself, Prince Charming," Tim laughed as our drinks arrived.  I downed half my beer before the server even left the table. 

"Easy there, cowboy," Tim said.  "Pace yourself.  And relax.  No one from work is here.  There's nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, don't sweat it," Jessie chimed in.  "When you're up there just move to the music and forget about us.  It'll be over before you know it."

"Yeah, and how the hell would you know?" I laughed with a tight-lipped smile, dreading what I was about to do.  I hoped the beer would make me braver... loosen my inhibitions.  "You guys are so confident of how I'm gonna feel, you act like you work here or something."

Tim took his and Jessie's shots and slid them over to me.  "Maybe some liquid courage will do the trick," he said.  He must have been reading my mind.  "Fuck yeah," I said, downing the shots.  So I was feeling my head go light and fuzzy and praying it would make me forget what I was about to do.

The bartender came over to our table and filled me in on what I needed to do.  It didn't sound too bad, just embarrassing.  I finished the rest of my beer.  Now, I can handle my beer, don't get me wrong, but I don't drink hard alcohol too often.  Plus I hadn't eaten since lunch so the booze hit me a little quicker and bigger than it normally would.  I was more nervous that I was letting on, what with having to do a strip tease for a room full of drooling sissy boys, so I was counting on my buzz.

By the time the bartender announced my turn I was flying pretty good.  Tim and Jessie had each bought me another shot and I was on my way to being drunk.  I looked at Jessie and Tim as I stood up; they both had big grins plastered on their faces.  "Go on out there and shake your moneymaker, Brian!" Jessie said.

And I did.  I felt a little awkward at first, but gradually got the hang of it, even swinging my shirt around before I tossed it to Tim.  I teased them with my t-shirt, too, but my boots were something else.  I had to hop around on one leg, bent over, to get them off, but the fags didn't seem to mind.  At least that's what I could make out, judging from their whoops and cheers.  No doubt checking out my ass. 

It was time for the pants.  The crowd was chanting and urging me on and, with my inhibitions sufficiently lowered, thanks to all the alcohol, I decided to go for it.  I stripped off my belt and waved it like a whip.  I undid the top button of my pants and as the waistband of my white briefs came into view, the chants from the crowd got louder and louder.  In one quick flip of my wrist I unbuttoned the fly of my uniform pants.  They fell quickly to my ankles, quicker than I thought, and I ended up tripping and falling flat on my ass.  The crowd burst into a round of laughter and cheers as I sat there, half drunk, trying to pull my pants down my long legs.  I finally managed to work them off, along with my socks, and threw them to Tim, who piled them on the table with the rest of my clothes.  Now I was down to my briefs... and they were staying on!  I got to my hands and knees.  The crowd was whooping and cheering.

I heard the hum and rasp of a microphone.  I looked up to see Tim holding the bartender's microphone.  He gave a loud wolf whistle.  "Check out Brian Ryder in his tightie whities!"

The crowd laughed and clapped its approval and there were more whistles.  Now I was embarrassed.  Shit.  I wish I wore boxers.  But I grew up wearing regular briefs.  What did Tim just call them?  Tightie whities?  Yeah, whatever.  Fruit of the Loom, Hanes, BVDs.  My dad wore them, my older brothers wore them... I'd never worn anything else... They weren't tight tight, but they weren't loose either.  I mean... well, let's just say that anybody taking a look could see that I've got decent sized balls and a nice 8-inch concealed weapon.

I got to my feet and staggered back and forth, tripping over my own feet.  The crowd loved it, though.  Like I said, all that alcohol had gone right to my head and I was feeling looser now, so I decided to give the fags a little show.  I started to thrust my hips like a Chippendales dancer and even flashed them my bare ass a couple of times.  They were on their feet and stayed there until the music ended.  Then the music ended and I was done.  I shrugged my shoulders and threw my hands out in a thank you gesture to the crowd, who was still on their feet cheering for me.  I stumbled down the stairs where Tim was standing waiting for me.

"I can't fucking believe you did it, man!" he said, handing me a beer as we walked over to the bar where Jessie was sitting.

"You sure you've never done this before?" Jessie asked, patting me on the back.  "You looked like a pro."

I drank the beer in three big gulps.  "Ah," I said, putting the empty glass down.  "That hit the spot."

"Let me get you another," Tim said.

I was sweaty from the hot lights and had to piss something fierce.  "Yeah, that'd be great.  But I gotta piss," I said.  Without even dressing I padded off to the bathroom, stumbling all the way.

I leaned against the wall and pissed into the urinal.  I noticed two guys checking me out in the corner.  "Fuckin' faggots," I mumbled, glaring at them in the mirror as I washed my hands.

Just as I was leaving the bathroom a wave of dizziness crashed over me and I nearly fell.  I was definitely drunk.  I made my way back to where Tim and Jessie were, holding onto the wall to keep my balance. 

"You okay man?" Tim asked, handing me another beer.

"Yeah," I nodded.  My face scrunched up as I drank the beer.  It tasted all nasty and had some kind of funky aftertaste.  "What is this shit?  Microbrew?"  I was strictly a Corona guy. 

"Why don't you get dressed now," Jessie suggested as he and Tim steered me through the crowd to a makeshift dressing room on the other side of the bar.  I was stumbling worse now so Tim put his hand on the small of my back to steady me.  It didn't even dawn on me that I was walking around in nothing but my underwear.

We continued to walk and now my head was beginning to feel light and I got tingly all over.  I noticed that his hand had roamed down to my lower back and was resting just above my ass.  "I bet they'll let you go on again if you want," he said.

"Yeah man," I said, the words taking longer to come out.  "Like that's gonna happen."  I finished the beer. 

"Face it, you loved the attention," Tim said.

My face felt a little flushed and my knees buckled slightly.  "Wow!  That last beer really hit me," I said.  "I'm glad I'm riding with you tonight, Tim."

"Yeah, you're hammered," he said, his hand still resting on my lower back.  "Maybe you should slow down."

"Nah, it's just a few beers," I said.  "I'm good."

"When does Laurie get back?" he asked.

"Some time late tonight."

"Miss her?" Tim asked.

I nodded.  "Yeah, she's only been gone a week but this is the longest we've gone without sex since we got married.  I'm so fuckin' horny!"  I was unconsciously grabbing and tugging on my nuts.  Don't ask me why.  My dick was starting to get all hard and shit and I was burning up.  Both Tim and Jessie were smiling broadly now.  I picked up my pants and started to put them on but I was so clumsy that Tim and Jessie had to keep me steady as I pulled them up.  It felt like I was wearing gloves and couldn't button up the fly so Tim helped me there, too.

I closed my eyes for a few seconds, hoping the dizziness would pass, but it didn't.  I was starting to feel lightheaded and warm.  Woozy.   When I opened my eyes I saw that my pants were back down at my ankles and Tim was helping me step out of them. 

"What the fuck?" I mumbled. 

"Shhh... it's okay," he whispered, leaning in close.  He was touching my lip with his index finger and his other hand was now resting right on my ass and Jessie was softly rubbing my belly.  My head was swimming and I must've been imagining things because I could've sworn that Jessie had cupped my package a few times.  My head was buzzing and my mouth was dry.  It felt like there was cotton in my head.  Then I sort of stumbled, and Jessie used one of his hands to catch me, cupping me right under my mounded pec, and his thumb must have accidentally brushed over my tit.  My dick seemed to swell a bit, and I involuntarily hunched to escape the sensation of that rough thumb pad on my nipple.

"Shit, man... I feel so dizzy," I said embarrassed at my own reaction to his finger, and trying to excuse my response.

"Let's see if the bartender has any smelling salts," Jessie said, walking to the bar.

Tim and I followed him.  I was having real trouble walking straight now and Tim had to help me along.  I was leaning heavily against him as we made our way through the crowd.  I must've been quite a sight; all 6'3 of me, wearing nothing but tightie whities, stumbling through the bar, leaning against Tim who was all of 5'9. 

The bartender handed Jessie a small bottle.  He opened it and walked toward me.  "Take a good sniff of this," he said, putting the bottle to my nostril.

I caught a slight whiff.  It wasn't smelling salts.  I pulled away.  "What the hell is that stuff?" I said.

Before I could react Tim wrapped his arms around my upper body, pinning my arms to my sides. 

"What the fuck...?" I started to say, but Jessie clamped his hand over my mouth, pinning my right nostril shut with his thumb.  He put the bottle to my open nostril. 

"Just breathe it in, Brian," he said, his face right next to mine.  "You'll feel better.  Come on..."

I didn't know what to think.  I could smell some kind of chemically-ish odor from the bottle but I was holding my breath.  I tried to struggle but my body was already weak, plus Tim had a pretty good hold on me. 

Jessie kept the bottle to my nose.  "Come on, Brian.  You can't hold your breath forever," he said in a sing-song voice. 

He was right.  I was running out of air, but I did my best.  Then Tim stuck thrust his thick index finger into my navel, and his nail scratched across the sensitive knot of my inny.  I instinctively laughed and I lost all my concentration.  Against my will I inhaled sharply, snorting in the air and the strange smelling stuff he was holding under my nostril.

"Unnnggghhh..." Whatever it was in that little brown bottle rushed to my brain and sent me spinning.  I got warm all of a sudden and I slumped against Tim.  Jessie's thumb began to stroke back and forth over my hard tit flesh, now jutting out sharply from my pec, almost seeming to stretch to the finger that was rubbing it.  My knees weakened and I slumped even more.  Tim's palm slid down the front of my briefs and grasped me by the crotch, making my dick go hard and causing me to feel like I'd never felt... it was so fucking strange, a guy grabbing my jewels and my dick going rock hard.

Jessie put the bottle to my other nostril and told me to inhale again.  I did, like Pavlov's dog.  Another rush.  He put the bottle back to my other nostril.  "Unnnnooooohhhhh..." I moaned again, my head spinning and lolling, his thumb now joined by his index finger, squeezing and tugging at my tittie.  Tim's hand had closed around my shaft, and his thumb was grazing back and forth over the tip of my prick... SHIT... I was leaking, and his thumb was scrubbing the material of my briefs back and forth over the piss lips of my aching cock.  WHAT THE FUCK WAS HAPPENING?  I was losing all control and two guys I thought I knew were doing strange things to my body.  I felt helpless to stop!

My head lolled back and through my half-open eyes I saw Tim and Jessie wink at each other!  What the fuck?  Then it began to dawn on me.  The bet, the gay bar, the funny tasting beer... had I been drugged?  I looked at Tim and Jessie again.  They were smiling.  Jessie put the bottle back to my nose and for some reason I inhaled without even being told to.  My tit was being mauled by Jessie's fingers, and now Tim was swirling his fingertips around the throbbing tip of my sausage.  I heard something strange... like someone was groaning... "AAAAAAggghhhhhh... oooooohhhhhhh... nnnnoooooo... aaaaaaaaahhhhhh." 

Then I realized who it was.  It was me... I was grinding my hips into Tim's expert fingertips, and every time Jessie tweaked my nipple my cock burped another shot of clear pre-fuck to help Tim baste my dick head with my tight, white cotton briefs.  The area around my knob was soaking, and the sweet scrubbing of the material was making me even more light-headed and weak.

Suddenly my legs felt like jello and I fell backward.  Somebody caught me from behind, putting their arms under my pits to keep me from falling.  Jessie kept switching the bottle from nostril to nostril until I was higher than fuckin' Blitzen.  I was completely disoriented.  I don't even know how many sniffs I had from that fuckin' bottle.  And suddenly it seemed there were other hands on both of my tits... and a hand sliding into the back of my briefs, a finger worming down to tickle the area between my hairy, sweaty cheeks... getting close to my hole... NOOOOOO!  I wanted to kick and punch my way out, but those magic fingers on my cock head, and the constant pinching of my tits made me feel like some bitch... helpless...and ready to surrender!

"You like this, Brian?" Tim asked, grabbing at my dick while Jessie kept the poppers going from nostril to nostril.  "How about these poppers?"

"NNNNoooooo... stop... yuuuuu gotttaaaa... sttttooppp."  At that moment, though, a wet set of fingers started rolling my right tit, and the ticklish sensation made me grunt like a high school whore... "Eeeeeiiiiii... aaaaaaahhhhhhhh..."

"Now I asked if you liked this... now what do you say...?"

As my tits were plucked and tweaked, and my rogue cock head wickedly jerked, I surrendered without a fight, slurring and purring.

"Yesssss... oohhhh fuuuccckkkk yeesssss... oooowwww," I slurred while shaking my head as if I wanted to indicate 'No', but my thrusting hips, my taut tits, and my constant groans said otherwise.  Why did I say 'yes'?  I couldn't get a bead on my thoughts.  I was dazed and it felt like I was floating.  My head was lolling back and forth.  Tim had a big smile on his face. 

I was given another hit of poppers and Tim put a beer to my mouth.  It had the same bitter taste as the last one and I was sure it was drugged.  He tilted it up, draining it in my mouth, beer running over my lips and down my face.  Then he pushed the empty bottle into my mouth and slowly moved it in and out.  What was he doing?  Yet at the same time, my lips tightened around the bottle, and like my wife's fingers in my mouth when we fucked like dogs, I was sucking on that bottle like it was some big titty.

I was pushed down to my knees.  My face at Tim's crotch.  I looked up to see him smiling.  He was unzipping his pants.  He held the back of my head in his big hand and slowly moved me forward until my nose was against the white cotton of his jock strap that was bulging from the spread of his fly.  My nose rubbed against a hard, thick protrusion, and my nostrils were assaulted by a strange scent, one that I had smelled only when I sniffed my own jock strap after a sweaty exercise.

The starchy, sweaty, ballsy smell was crotch sweat... my nose was in Tim's crotch!  Jesus, I was sniffing my partner's nuts and dick.  I tried to lurch back, but his strong hand held me in place and another hit from Jessie and the brown bottle caused me to loll forward.  My nose was rubbing back and forth on the damp jock and now my mouth was being pushed against the white cotton. 

"That's it Brian... get a good sniff of your partner's balls... those big balls that you've seen in the shower, the big balls that pump lots of scum into tight wet pussy... that's it Brian... sniff 'em good... get to know 'em... be nice to 'em... yeah... that's it buddy..."

I tried again to pull away, but the combination of his strength and my drugged condition had me in a vice grip.  Jessie and other hands took over for Tim and he used one hand to grasp the waistband of his jock and pull it and down beneath his pendulous, hanging balls, and used the other to grip his thick, 7 inch prick with the slight curve towards his body.  The knob was exceptionally thick and wide, with deep piss lips and a wide flange.