Peyton was a freshman hoops star. He had desperately wanted to go to the NBA straight out of high school, and some teams agreed, but his dad wanted him to have an education as a fall-back. So, even though he was a freshman, he was on varsity, and was the crux of most of the team’s advertising and booster money.
Despite his stellar ability on the court, he wasn’t as graceful off the court. He came from an area in town where it was alright to make fun of gay people, fat people, really anyone who didn’t fit in. This included Sven, the team’s towel boy, who traveled with them to games. Sven was openly gay, and his weight consisted mostly of fat, unlike the guys on the team, who were lean and muscular. Peyton, having as much clout as the seniors, was allowed to make fun of him, and many times, Sven went home crying after a practice or a game.
A few weeks into the season, Sven’s grandfather had died. He had been with the team for a couple years, so the coach ordered all the players to go to the funeral. Peyton found it insufferably boring, and so decided to have fun. At the cemetery, he told the guys his plan, and a few of them agreed to it.
As the casket was being lowered into the ground, Peyton and his bros all coughed loudly. The bearers were quite alarmed, and the one pressing the button slammed into it, causing the casket to plummet to the ground. Thankfully, the solid oak casket was fine, but Sven and his family were understandably pissed at the boys, who thought it was just some harmless prank.
A few days later, the grandfather had his will read, and the contents distributed. Sven received a pocket watch, with a note.
“My favorite Sven, it has come to my attention the past couple years have been not so good for you in college. This pocket watch has hypnotic abilities. Just swing it in front of the person, and they will fall under your control. It’s as simple as that. Love, Grandpa”
Sven tried it out on one of his cousins later that day, and that shit actually worked! The only problem was getting Peyton to be hypnotized. He would never fall for such a simplistic swinging of the watch, so Sven had his work cut out for him. The opportunity presented itself a weekend later. Sven was also on laundry duty on Saturday, as most games, especially the big televised ones, were on Sunday. Most guys on the team had a distinctive jockstrap, but Peyton didn’t. Sven decided to FaceTime him to figure out which was his, but he clearly had an ulterior motive in mind.
“What’s up?” Peyton asked, when the connection came through.
“I need you to pick out your personal jock. Yours got mixed in with all the rest.” Sven then swung the camera to a bench filled with jocks, as he got the pocket watch out out of his pocket.
“Third one down on the second row. I can tell because of the stitching.”
“Thanks,” said Sven, as the camera swung back to him. Only this time, it wasn’t his face. It was the swinging pocket watch.
“What the fuck, man?” Peyton said, but like Sven’s grandfather had told him, Peyton quickly fell under Sven’s control. His head lolled against the bed he was on, but he replied that he could still hear and understand Sven.
“Good boy. This is just a simple trigger. Whenever you hear the word, ‘balls’, you will show us your asscheeks,” Sven replied, in a bit of a bait and switch.
“Yes, sir.” Sven then snapped, as his grandpa’s instructions had told him to do, and then Peyton woke up. The video connection had been lost.
A couple days later, Sven was ready to put his plan into action. Peyton had just posted this selfie, which meant practice was over.
Sven knew Peyton would walk back to his dorm room through the quad, where a pick-up football game was being played. It was shirts versus skins, and it seemed like quite a few actual football players had joined it. Peyton walked over and asked to join. He was put on skins. Sven was ready to yell, but what the other player said next was perfect.
“Hey, you wouldn’t mind carrying these balls over to our side, would you?” Peyton’s conditioning kicked in, and he dropped his pants, unfortunately revealing himself before turning to moon the jock.
“Fuck you!” the jock screamed. “I ain’t no homo fucker! But I know someone who is! Cole! Come over here!” A big linebacker trotted over. Sven, from his place in the bushes, recognized him from the GSA he went to weekly. “This little bitch decided to flash me. I think you can put him in his place.”
“Yes, sir.” Peyton was shocked when his conditioning wore off, only to find himself face down in the grass, with Cole on top of him.
“Fuck!” screamed Peyton, which was only first in a string of obscenities as he was penetrated for the first time. The men playing football gathered around to watch the fuck. Peyton’s face had a sheer look of horror on it as his hole was violated. Cole had, of course, not lubed up his cock first, so it hurt even more. Cole himself was a very vocal fucker too, but his words were much more erotic and belittling to the jock, instead of just swear words. Peyton was also forced to breath in Cole’s BO, as his armpits were positioned close to his nostrils. Cole had been one of the first players for the pick-up game, so he reeked.
Peyton was also being forced to taste grass. The big linebacker did not provide a lot of leeway for push back, and instead pushed his face into the ground even more. Those guys who could see his face were having a hoot over the prime basketball jock nearly choking on fucking grass. The fun couldn’t last for too long though, and eventually Cole pulled out. He flipped Peyton over and aimed his cock right at his face. The resulting cumshot was quite massive, as Cole hadn’t nutted in a few days. Sperm was dripping off of Peyton’s face as he got up and was handed his shirt.