Punching bag for Kyle
Connected Stories: The trouble with having a fag son I The joy with having a fag son I
Content Warning: abuse / bullying / homophobia / objectification / verbal insults / violence
Brian was really surprised when he was approached by Kyle one day after school. Kyle was one of the most unpleasant boys in school. He was arrogant, selfish and a real bully. Brian had been glad he hadn't drawn his attention to himself in the past few years. What would he want from him?
"Hey dude, what's up? Do you already have plans for tomorrow?”
Brian was so confused he couldn't say a word. Then Kyle continued:
"I was wondering if you'd like to come to my boxing practice tomorrow. I saw you at the track and field competition recently, and I think your body has just the right makeup for boxing. You would really be an asset to my boxing practice if you would join me. Believe me this will be fun!”
Even though Brian didn't trust it and couldn't think of anything more uncomfortable than spending his free time with an asshole like Kyle, he agreed. He didn't understand himself. But for the next 24 hours, he couldn't help but keep imagining sweaty Kyle working out, and Brain getting a hard-on every time.
When the time came, Brian went to Kyle's house because he was supposed to meet him there.
"Oh good that you're here, I've already prepared everything." Kyle said and made a gesture for Brian to come into the house.
"We practice here?" Brian asked suspiciously.
"Yeah I have a big room and my parents aren't around right now anyway." Kyle said with a suspicious grin.
In Kyle's room, Brian noticed the next suspicious thing: there were no exercise machines nor a punching bag anywhere. Brian gave Kyle a questioning look and opened his mouth to say something when Kyle started talking:
"Listen, faggit, the training goes like this. You stand right against that wall.” Kyle said, pointing to a certain part of the room.
"You stand still and don't move while I practice a few punches on you. First of all, you will..."
"What the hell? Are you crazy?!” Brian interrupted him.
*BASH!!*
Kyle hit Brian in the face with his flat hand.
"SHUT UP, FAGGY! If you interrupt me again or open your mouth without being asked, I'll use my fist on your face and then you can pick up your teeth one by one later!” Kyle threatened.
Brian was petrified with fear. His heart was pounding wild as he followed Kyle's instructions and removed his shirt. He knew very well that Kyle wasn't kidding and was ready to carry out his threats. And yet he couldn't suppress his reflexes and held his arms in front of his stomach every time Kyle drew out a punch. Only when Kyle tied Brian's wrists tightly behind his back with a cable tie, the practice could finally begin. Kyle hadn't even lied to him: Brian was indeed an asset to Kyle's boxing practice. Just not in the way Brian had imagined. And after being used as a human punching bag all afternoon, Brian collapsed, exhausted and in pain. Kyle, kind as he was, then helped Brian out the door and said goodbye to him:
"I'll see you for the next boxing practice on Friday, little fag!" and slammed the door laughing.
Later Brian couldn't remember exactly when he finally managed to get home that evening. But when he lay in his bed, his mind was still on the boxing practice and had the hardest orgasm of his life. Of course, being the pathetic fag that he was, Brian couldn't help but regularly assist Kyle with his training from then on.
THE END
Both will be better for it.