Racing the Enemy Naked

RACING THE ENEMY NAKED

The track team bully humiliates a young runner

by G. Lawrence

Nothing in this story really happened, the events are not likely to happen, and I don't advocate that anything in this story should happen. It is a fantasy not intended to reflect real life. This story has nudity but no sex. All of the characters are over 18 years old.

* * * * * *

"Okay, this is how it works," the bully said. "We go down to the lower track field in the late afternoon after practice. A match race. Say, 200 meters. The loser becomes the winner's slave for the rest of the day. You don't like me, and I don't like you. One of us gets humiliated and put in his place."

"Why should I trust you? Or any of the seniors?" the freshman track star answered. "You're jealous that I'm winning my meets while you guys can barely cut it."

Brad Parks, taller and heavier than the boastful pipsqueak, had to control his temper. This was his last year at Midvale Valley College. He'd done well in track and field, though never outstanding. The kid had a point, but that didn't mean he needed to take his attitude.

"I'll bring two friends. You bring two friends. They'll be at the finish line to judge who wins," Brad recommended. "If the vote is 2 to 2, it's a draw. But I expect to win. You're great at the 100-meter dash, but I doubt you can last in a real man's race."

"I can beat a lumbering hulk like you at any distance," Jeff Mathewson replied. "I may have been a skinny runt in high school, but I've filled out since then. I'm 120 pounds now, all muscle, most of it in my legs. I'm not afraid of you."

"Then the race is on? No excuses?" Brad said, reaching to shake on it.

"I'll need to find two judges who are on my side," Jeff mentioned. "I'm new here, you aren't. But a few of my old high school classmates are attending Midvale. I'll find them."

"Fair enough. Saturday? 3 p. m.?" Brad suggested.

"Saturday," Jeff confirmed.

It was a cool April day for the small Indiana college. At 5'5, Jeff was smaller than anyone else on the track team but known for his competitive spirit. His undoubted speed in the 100-meter dash, and even the 200-meter, had quickly made him a star. Which he enjoyed. The carping of the seniors about his decorum was just designed to bring him down. And Brad Parks was one of the worst, always complaining about Jeff's victory laps and waving his blue ribbons.

Jeff only had a day to find judges who might be on his side, but he knew where to look. He jogged down to the cafeteria outside the accounting building. Several of his Claymore High School acquaintances were enrolled there. He hadn't been close to many classmates during those days, being shy. He had wanted to date more, but his short stature sometimes made him feel insecure. He had focused on getting good grades instead.

Mark Leads and Bryan Manning were sitting with their high school sweethearts, Janice and Paula. The women weren't enrolled at Midvale, just visiting. Jeff didn't want the women knowing about the match race, so he drew Mark and Bryan aside. Which was uncomfortable. They hadn't always been on the best of terms, to say the least.

"I need two friends," Jeff said outside the front door. "I'm running a match race tomorrow against a bigmouth senior. He has two buddies judging. I need two on my side. Will you help me?"

"Sure thing. Those bastards make me sick the way they pick on everyone," Mark agreed. "What do we need to do?"

"There's a practice field down at the lower end of campus," Jeff explained. "The race is tomorrow at 4 o'clock. We should meet up fifteen minutes sooner to make sure they aren't trying to pull something."

"We know how sneaky those seniors can be," Bryan said. "Are you racing Brad Parks? He always lords it over everyone like he owns the school."

"He's been trying to lord it over me, and I've had enough," Jeff responded. "This race is just what I need to shut him up."

"We'll be there. Should we bring anyone else? Our girlfriends? You remember them, of course?" Mark asked. Jeff remembered them all too well, bypassing the question.

"They want a private event. Which is okay. You'll see why," Jeff answered.

The race would be held on a temperate afternoon under a blue sky. The track was somewhat isolated from the rest of the campus by tall trees and a hill. Jeff arrived with Mark and Bryan. The other two freshmen were eighteen, casually dressed, tall and well-built, though not athletic like their smaller high school classmate. Brad was already there with Gregg Jones and Hayden Willoby, who had been on the football team before their final senior game sent them into retirement.

"I'm surprised you showed up," Brad said. "Don't expect me to go easy on you when you lose."

"I won't be the one who loses," Jeff defiantly responded.

"What are the stakes?" Mark asked, sensing more was going on than pride.

"The loser becomes the winner's slave," Gregg answered, younger than Brad but several years older than the freshmen. He had a bright, easy-going nature about him. "A slave to be humiliated for showing off and treating others like dirt."

"Treating others like dirt is your thing, not mine," Jeff said. "Always calling the shots for everyone else. I just like to train hard and win."

"There's nothing wrong with winning. It's how you win that matters," Brad replied.

"Slave?" Mark questioned, his thick eyebrows going up. "One of you will become a slave?"

"That's between the contestants," Hayden lectured, the oldest of the group, dark-haired and grim. "We're just here to guarantee a fair start and judge the winner. Though it wouldn't surprise me if someone gets naked."

"Naked!" Mark and Bryan shouted.

"You froshes don't know how this works, but at Midvale Valley College, we have traditions," Gregg said. "The loser of a match race strips. The winner decides on the punishment."

"Sounds harsh," Mark said, taking a step back. "Glad I'm not running today."

"Jeff, you knew about this?" Bryan asked.

"Yes, they've done it to others," Jeff acknowledged. "But I won't lose. Parks won't be such a big shot after doing a naked loser lap around the track."

"I have my phone. We'll take pictures of him," Mark said, drawing frowns from Gregg and Hayden.

"No, that's not what I want," Jeff said, pushing the phone aside. "I just want to see him taken down a peg."

"We'll see who takes pictures of who," Brad said. "Ready to do this?"

Jeff and his guys went to a bench where he took off his street clothes, dressing in his sports trunks and tank top. Everything was stuffed into a gym bag. Brad and his friends did the same on another part of the field. Then both sides came together at a yellow chalk line just off the infield.

"Okay, one lap around the track wins," Brad announced.

"One lap? That's 400 meters," Jeff objected. "You said 200 meters."

"You said you could beat me at any distance. One lap is simple. We start here and end here. Our teams don't need to move anyplace else to observe."

"No problem, Jeff. You can beat him," Mark said. "You were always fast in high school."

"And very fast running away from bullies," Bryan added with a laugh.

"Fine. I can still win," Jeff said, though without the confidence he wanted.

They set up on the starting line and Gregg fired a starter pistol. The runners took off. Jeff had the initial advantage. Though much shorter, he had strong legs. Quick movement. It would take time for Brad's longer strides to make a difference.

Jeff was well out front at 100 meters and kept the lead halfway around the track at 200 meters. In the final curve, Brad began to catch up. Jeff needed to strive harder, struggling to maintain the pace. Breathing hard. Sweating. Their muscles were beginning to ache. They went into the final stretch. Cheering was heard from the four judges.

Nearing the finish line, Brad moved ahead. He was running hard, too. Giving nothing away. Jeff dug deep for a final burst of speed, catching his larger opponent. It was close, but Jeff was fairly sure he had won. They staggered to the infield, trying to catch their breaths.

"Tough race," Brad conceded.

"You're faster than I thought," Jeff wheezed.

The judges approached.

"Brad definitely won," Gregg instantly said. "Not even close."

"That's the way I saw it," Hayden agreed. Jeff wasn't surprised. They'd say the same thing if Brad lost by ten yards. He turned to his high school acquaintances.

"Well, it was close," Mark said. "But I think Parks won."

"Parks?" Jeff questioned.

"Yes, he had the edge," Bryan conceded. "Hate to say it, Jeff. You were a step behind like always."

Jeff couldn't believe it. He knew he had won. Or, at least, was pretty sure he had won. How could this be happening? He looked at the expressions and finally understood, his shoulders drooping. Those he hoped would be his friends weren't. They were smirking.

"Thanks a lot, guys," Jeff muttered.

"Not welching on the bet, are you?" Brad asked.

"I've never welched on a bet," Jeff quietly replied.

"Okay then, take off your clothes," Brad ordered.

Jeff kicked off his shoes, peeled off his white socks, and yanked off the sweaty tank top. Gregg brought his gym bag, stuffing everything inside with Jeff's street clothes. The trunks came next, leaving only his jockey shorts. It wasn't like Brad hadn't seen him in the showers after a track meet. He was a new sight for Gregg and Hayden. Jeff took off his underwear, seeing them disappear into the bag. Gregg zipped the bag shut, leaving Jeff standing nude before all of them.

"He's actually not bad looking," Bryan said. "If I was gay, I'd want to tap that ass."

"Not a bad cock, either. How come he doesn't get more girls?" Gregg wondered.

Brad had to concede the point. Jeff may have been small, but he was well-proportioned, with sinewy muscles perfect for a sprinter. The result of hundreds of hours of hard training.

"Because he's a monk," Brad said. "All he thinks about is winning races and showing up his competitors."

"Fine. Whatever," Jeff said. "Have you had your fun?"

"Oh, we haven't even started," Brad replied. He nodded to Gregg, who came up behind Jeff. In a quick move, Jeff found his arms pulled back and handcuffs put on his wrists. He lurched forward, turning around.

"Brad, what the fuck?" he said.

"You are my slave. That was the bet. I'm going to treat you like a slave," Brad responded. He stepped forward to buckle a leather collar around Jeff's neck and attach a 6-foot leash.

"Okay, let's take that victory lap," Brad said, drawing Jeff back out on the track. They started slowly, gradually picking up speed. Brad in his running shoes and Jeff barefoot. Jeff didn't need to be dragged, keeping pace without complaining. A few minutes later, they were back at the starting line. The field was deserted. No crowds to witness the event.

Jeff paused to catch his breath, unhappy to see Mark and Bryan enjoying themselves so much. Remembering their high school days, perhaps he should have expected this betrayal, but he had hoped they'd moved past that now that they were in college. It had been a mistake. Mark raised his phone to take a photo.

"Not now," Gregg said, pushing the phone down. "Brad has plans for that."

Brad went to the bench, getting dressed in his street clothes while Jeff was forced to watch. Hayden held the leash.

"I'm looking forward to a shower when I get home," Brad announced. "Jeff, you won't need to wait that long."

There was a soccer net at the end of the field used for practice. It was long and wide, white nylon netting attached to PVC poles. Jeff was led down and shoved inside, the leash tied to the overhead bar. And then Gregg came up with a hose.

"No! No, don't do this!" Jeff yelled as Hayden turned the faucet on. Gregg stood before Jeff, spraying him ferociously. Making him jump and twist in the cold water. His audience laughed uproariously. Jeff finally gave up, sinking to his knees. And then it got worse.

"What's this?" a young woman inquired. Jeff looked up to see five girls from the lacrosse team, carrying their sticks and a bag of balls. They were slim, strong, and attractive. Good runners.

"Hi, Sandy. Can we help you?" Brad asked.

"We were hoping to use the net," Sandy replied.

"No problem, we're almost done here," Brad said.

"Is that Jeff Mathewson? Did he lose a bet?" Sandy asked.

"Yeah, he sure did," Mark snickered. Sandy looked at the two freshmen still wearing their clothes. And their leering grins. She was not impressed. The women offered more frowns than smiles.

"Don't make the grass too wet," Sandy requested. Hayden turned the faucet off. Gregg untied the leash from the net, leading him out.

Jeff was mortified, standing naked before five women, soaking wet and shivering.

"I didn't realize he's so cute," Tracy Adams said. "How come he never dates?"

"Because he's a monk," Brad replied, taking Jeff to the far end of the field. The other four men followed. Both Mark and Bryan repeatedly spanked Jeff's bare ass to keep him moving, chuckling with each smack.

"This is so great," Mark said. "Jeff was always such an uptight little bastard at Claymore High. Hardly talking to anyone. Feeling superior to the rest of us. Smarter. Working harder. Always getting the best grades. He's not looking so superior now." Brad glanced back, listening without commenting. They reached the bench where Jeff's gym bag was.

"Okay, you've had your fun humiliating me," Jeff said. "Take these handcuffs off."

"Not yet. We have places to go," Brad answered.

"Places? What places?" Jeff protested.

"You haven't learned your lesson yet, but you will," Brad promised. He turned to Mark and Bryan. "Are you froshes interested in attending Sheryl Yee's pool party tonight?"

"Wow! Sheryl Yee? Really? That's a big deal," Mark said. "Don't they have an open bar and live music?"

"Come as my guests, and bring Jeff's clothes with you," Brad said, throwing them the gym bag. "You can bring dates if you want. Now get out of here. Your part of this is over."

"Mr. Parks, we want to thank you for--" Bryan started to say.

"Pay attention, frosh," Gregg said, getting in his face. "You're done. Get the fuck out of here before we make you run a lap."

The freshman ran for their lives. Attention returned to Jeff.

"You can't do this. The bet was for the track field," he said.

"Nothing specified where your slavery would take place. Or exactly how long. Technically, it won't end until dawn," Brad said.

"No, not dawn," Jeff said, shuddering. They realized Jeff had heard the stories, poking each other with their elbows. Midvale's senior hazing events were legendary.

Gregg put a hand on Jeff shoulder, whispering, "Have you ever been abandoned on the beach of Lake Michigan? Naked? Tied to a pole? It gets a little chilly in April. Would you like us to give you're a ride?"

"No, please, I'd rather not," Jeff said, shaking.

"Then you would rather stay with us?" Hayden asked. Jeff knew he had no good options.

"I don't want a ride to the beach," he answered.

"You might still end up at the beach. Many have," Brad warned. "But for now, you're coming with us."

To his shame, Jeff was led off the field and over the tree-lined hill into the heart of the campus. It was a traditional Midwestern college, with ivy-covered red brick buildings and a large quad surrounded by stone benches. A statue of the founder, the French fur trader Marced DeLeon, stood prominently next to the flagpole. Being Saturday, there wasn't much activity. But there was some. No one wanted to approach Brad's group and ask questions, which was okay with Jeff. He knew the parking lot was up ahead, only ten minutes away. Forced to walk naked through the center of campus dragged on a leash was a humiliating nightmare. Or should have been. It wasn't the first time he'd been naked where he shouldn't be. Those previous times had been terrifying, and in a strange way, thrilling. Brad looked back at his captive, noticing Jeff taking more in stride than he expected.

"We need to check in at the Fine Arts Building," Brad said, diverting their course.

"Why fine arts?" Jeff dared to ask.

"If you paid attention to anyone but yourself, you'd know I'm a fine arts major," Brad answered. "My specialty is photography."

Oh, God, Jeff thought, this could get bad.

The modern art structure had large glass doors. Brad led the way into the lobby, holding the leash. Gregg and Hayden followed Jeff, giving occasional slaps to his butt. Jeff was getting used to it. They weren't hard enough to be painful. Just embarrassing.

"Hi Brad," a beautiful young co-ed said in a happy voice. "Is this a new subject?"

"Can't giveaway my secrets, Darla," Brad answered with a wink.

"Kind of skinny," she observed, wrinkling her nose. "Nice equipment, though."

"It's Jeff Mathewson," Brad informed.

"The track star? Gosh, I've heard of him," Darla said with more interest. She circled Jeff, looking at him from all angles. "Wow, he looks great for a small guy. Like a miniature Mercury. All he's missing is a winged helmet. My art class is about to begin. Can we sketch him?"

"You need a nude model?" Gregg asked, looking ready.

"Not you, you big lug. We want this new guy, not a has-been football player," Darla answered with a grin.

"We have time," Brad said. "I'm sure my friend won't mind helping you out. Will you, Jeff?"

"I am born to serve," Jeff replied, not unhappy to have an attractive woman praise him.

"Thank you so much," Darla gushed. "What's with the handcuffs?"

"It's Jeff's birthday," Hayden replied. "This has always been one of his exhibitionist fantasies, so we're giving him this present. Isn't that right, Jeff?"

They were all staring at him, grinning, having a terrific time.

"Yes," Jeff sarcastically confirmed. "I've been fantasizing about this my whole life."

It got a good laugh. None of them guessed how true it was.

Jeff was led into the art class, eight women and two men. He took a position directly in front of them all, trying not to be overwhelmed. Many poses were requested, most of them classic. None were extraordinarily rude, to Jeff's relief. His captors lingered back against the wall, plotting some new terror for him, and then Brad disappeared for nearly forty minutes. Jeff was surprised, assuming Brad would want to enjoy the show.

Being professional, few comments were made about Jeff's body. Or the handcuffs. Jeff made a point of straightening up, refusing to be cowed by the awkward situation. The young artists were impressed by the powerful leg muscles, finely crafted calves, the strong lines in his back, and even the obvious strength in his thin shoulders. Various poses allowed the features to emerge in different ways. Jeff's expressions were perhaps the most interesting of all. He had a steady glance, soft brown eyes, and an occasional smile. Brad returned toward the end, giving the kid credit. He never made a squawk about any of it.

"We want to thank you," Darla said at the end of the session. "This has been great. We'd like to have you back, if that's okay. The handcuffs aren't an everyday thing, are they?"

"No. Hopefully I'll be able to do without them after today," Jeff answered, looking at Brad. "And I would be willing to do this again if it doesn't interfere with my training."

"Do you train every day?" Darla asked.

"I take Wednesdays and Sundays off to avoid stress injuries," he explained.

"Wednesday it is," Darla happily confirmed. Then she leaned over to peck him on the cheek. "You're very cute. A few of the girls would like to see more of you."

Jeff smiled, slowly turning around. "I'm not sure there is more of me to see," he replied, drawing chuckles.

When the art class ended, they were on the move again. The campus theater loomed three stories high with seating for 2000 people. Brad led Jeff across the empty stage, giving him a taste of true exhibitionism, and stopped outside the dressing rooms. A dozen young actors were preparing for rehearsal. They paused to give Jeff the once over.

"Hey, pal, we're doing Richard III, not The Full Monty," Marty Simon said, getting a laugh.

"Now is the winter of my discontent," Jeff dryly replied, getting a bigger laugh.

"Made glorious summer by this son of York?" Tricia Jons asked, looking at Brad.

"And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house, in the deep bosom of the ocean buried," Jeff answered. That got an excited response, the actors taking a deeper look at the bound captive.

"Brad, who the hell is this guy?" Joe-Bob Reynolds asked, a handsome star-in-the-making. "He's funny."

"Joe, this is Jeff Mathewson," Brad answered. "He's on the track team."

"Well, we're doing A Midsummer Night's Dream next month. He'd be perfect for Puck," Joe-Bob suggested.

"Puck is not generally naked," Jeff said. "Perhaps I can be Lady MacBeth?"

That induced shrieks of laughter, hearing a naked young man in handcuffs bantering about Shakespeare. But it was time to move on. Joe-Bob had them pause.

"Jeff, promise you'll come back for an audition," he humbly requested. "I think you'd like doing a play with us. You can be dressed."

"Okay, that might be fun," Jeff agreed.

A few minutes later they were in the car, Jeff in the front seat secured by a seatbelt.

"May I ask where we're going?" Jeff dared to inquire.

"Back to my place," Brad said. "Where we can have a serious talk in private."

"And get ready for the party," Gregg answered.

"Party?" Jeff said.

"You heard about the party when we invited your friends," Gregg explained. "Sheryl Yee's first pool party of the year. Though it's too cold to use the pool yet. It's a very big deal. A full buffet. A live band. We'll all be dressed in our best suits."

"Except you," Hayden said. "You're already dressed for the party."

"What? No, no, please. You can't do that," Jeff pleaded.

"Listen to what I'm saying," Brad responded, driving the car. "I promised to humiliate you, and this is perfect. You'll be the only person naked among sixty seniors. It's not open to negotiations, so resign yourself."

Jeff thought he'd get through this, but now he was having doubts. He fought off tears, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of breaking him. They arrived at a nice two-bedroom condo not far from campus. Jeff was led up the stairs to the porch, and then the leash was tied to a pole. The guys went inside, locking the door. Anyone passing by on the street would be able to see their naked captive.

The mail lady came along, smiling as she put letters in the box, but declined to say anything. Jeff had nothing to say, either. An old woman walking her terrier paused to stare. The dog barked. Two young women took pictures, filled with smiles. Jeff leaned back against the porch railing, accepting the situation. It wasn't the first time this had happened.

Half an hour later, the door opened and Jeff's leash was untied. They sat him at the kitchen table. Brad took the chair next to him, looking serious.

"How are your hands?" he asked.

"Sore," Jeff answered.

"I don't want to risk damaging our standout track star," Brad said. "I'll make you a deal. Promise to obey, as you're supposed to, and I'll take those handcuffs off until the party."

Jeff didn't need to think about it. His hands hurt more than he let on.

"Okay, you have my word," Jeff agreed. Gregg had him lean forward to remove the cuffs and then looked up at the others with a frown. Hayden disappeared into the bathroom.

"Extend your arms," Brad angrily ordered, spreading a towel on the table. He quickly put icepacks on Jeff's hands. Hayden returned with a First Aid kit.

"Your wrists are raw. Why didn't you say anything?" Hayden asked, clearly knowing what he was doing. A medical student? Jeff wondered.

"It wouldn't have done any good," Jeff wearily replied. "I've been bullied by guys like you my whole life. I've learned not to whine."

The guys were taken aback, but they were not fazed. Hayden wrapped cold compresses around Jeff's wrists.

"You wanted this bet as much as I did," Brad said. "But for different reasons. You wanted to prove who's boss. The big man. The star of the team. But I know better. You're really just a skinny kid fighting an inferiority complex. We all see that now. I wanted to teach you humility. You're a fine athlete. You owe no apologies there. It's your attitude that needs adjustment."

"I want to win. I like winning. What's wrong with that?" Jeff said.

"It's what you do after winning. Showing off. Rubbing it in. Your opponents have family at the track meets. Friends. Classmates. They work hard, too. They want to win, but not everyone can. Is it right to humiliate them?"

Jeff paused to think about that. "I didn't see it that way. I... I didn't..."

He fell silent, his thin brow bent. The guys were curious. Is it possible to watch someone having a revelation?

"You see now, don't you?" Brad asked.

"I think so," Jeff answered, trying not to tear up. "I was on the bottom so long, I didn't know how to act when everything changed."

Gregg went to the bar, returning with a bottle of Jack Daniels and four shot glasses. He filled a glass for each of them.

"Here's to new beginnings," Brad said, offering the toast. "Now understand, you are still going to Sheryl's party naked. That isn't going to change. Will you do everything I tell you to do? Without question? Like you promised?"

"Yes," Jeff said without thinking about it. It was the first shot of whiskey he'd ever had, coughing at the strong taste. It invoked smiles.

"I'm sorry. Am I missing something?" Hayden asked, looking bewildered. "Jeff, why would you agree to that?"

"Because I'm not stupid," Jeff said. "I only act stupid. If Brad really wanted to fuck me over, he'd have already done it. Bullies have no patience, and very little imagination. Am I wrong?"

"You may be a little smarter than you look," Brad admitted. "Okay, so here it is. I think appearing at the party naked will teach you the humility you need. Meeting new people, and talking with them while at your most vulnerable, will give you a confidence that's sorely lacking. And it will remind you, at track events when you're hyped up and excited, that there is a larger world to consider outside yourself. Now let me ask, am I wrong?"

Their young captive lowered his head, thinking back. Evaluating. He wasn't dumb, merely overwhelmed at times.

"You are not wrong," Jeff acknowledged.

"Then you're onboard with this?" Gregg asked, pushing him.

"Please don't ask me to say that," Jeff demurred. "I've accepted being embarrassed, stared at, spanked, mocked, and humiliated. Please don't make me complicit in my own shame."

"Okay, that's fair," Brad said. "I think we all know where this stands. Jeff, would you like to take a shower before we go? Get your hair washed?"

"Thank you. I'd rather not look scuzzier than I need to," Jeff said, heading to the bathroom. The guys remained quiet until he was gone.

"I'm having a little trouble with this," Gregg whispered. "This kid isn't the arrogant snot we thought he was. He's kind of good-natured when given a chance."

"Take my word for it, Jeff needs this party," Brad assured his friend. "And you should know, we have a score to settle."

* * * * * *

The men were dressed in dark brown suits and black ties. Their shoes were polished. Jeff was naked and barefoot. The guys refused to use handcuffs again because of Jeff's swollen wrists, but they brought a soft cotton rope should it prove needed. The car parked a block down the street from a huge house. Several passersby on the sidewalk stopped to take a second look at the strange group.

"Remember, be polite," Gregg lectured. "You lost a bet, and you're paying for it. Only jerks are going to rub it in, and they'll be shutdown fast."

"These are our friends. Good people," Hayden added. "That doesn't mean they won't smile at you being the only one naked."

"I'll try to remember all of that," Jeff promised. "But please know, I'd be scared of your friends even if I was wearing clothes. I don't run in such high circles."

"It's not that you can't," Brad replied. "You're afraid to try. I want to see an effort tonight. Unless you'd prefer a ride to the beach?"

Jeff laughed.

"You're laughing? Laughing about a ride to the beach?" Brad said.

"Hell, Brad, if you wanted me at the beach, we'd already be there," Jeff replied.

Gregg and Hayden chuckled. "He got you there, buddy," Hayden said.

"I'll pick my threats more carefully," Brad conceded.

They went through a wrought iron gate and up a brick path to a broad porch. Brad led the way into the living room, which was deserted. The party was out back in the garden near the half-frozen swimming pool.

"I'll get Sheryl," Hayden offered, running ahead. Jeff was kept in the living room until their host arrived, his bare feet on a nice soft carpet instead of the rough sidewalk.

"Not a bad looking slave," Sheryl observed, tall and graceful with long black hair. Her elegant blue dress was expensive, as were the high-heel shoes. "What's your question?"

"It's your party. If anyone is uncomfortable with this, we'll put a towel on him," Brad explained. Sheryl stroked her chin thoughtfully.

"I've seen Terry at the track meets," Sheryl said. "He's very fast but lacks propriety. Is this a punishment?"

"I lost a bet. Now it's a dare," Jeff replied.

"A dare?" Sheryl asked. Brad was listening, too. Surprised.

"Brad's bet was to humiliate me," Jeff answered. "The dare is to see if I learn from it."

"So, you're okay with this?" Sheryl pressed.

"I have agreed to obey Brad. The question is if he's okay with it," Jeff responded.

"I'm okay with this," Brad confirmed. Gregg and Hayden were a little less convinced but declined to speak up.

"Okay, you have my permission," Sheryl agreed, leading the way through the grand house and out to the gardens. Jeff saw caterers preparing food. There was a full bar with two bartenders, who looked up in surprise. There appeared to be sixty or more guests, all nicely attired. Jeff wasn't just the only one naked, he was the only male guest not wearing a suit and tie. A flaming firepit kept a large area warm on the cool night.

"Everybody, this is Terry, my slave for the evening," Brad announced to a startled audience. "You can have fun with him, but no touching without my permission."

"That's too bad," Sandy from the lacrosse team said. "Are you sure none of us can't drag him off into the bushes?" Everyone laughed, and even Jeff smiled.

Jeff was still wearing the collar, but his hands weren't tied. Brad made introductions. Jeff was handed a rum and coke. Brad thought him surprisingly relaxed considering the situation, except when he looked closely and saw the anxiety. It wasn't just being nude. Attempting to interact with the various men and women also had him on edge. Brad realized Jeff was a good actor. Probably a survival trait after being bullied for so many years in high school.

"Most of us are graduating in June," Brad explained. "Business majors. Pre-law. Pre-med. Some are headed for graduate schools; others will pursue doctorates."

A live band appeared on a makeshift stage next to the pool. Guitars, drums, and a keyboard. They began playing softly so the conversations wouldn't be interrupted.

"What do you think of this punishment?" a young man asked, part of a curious group surrounding Brad's captive.

"I suppose it's better than not being invited to the party at all," Jeff answered, getting an amused response. Someone handed him a fresh drink.

When the food was served, lines formed to get salads, roast chicken, lamb skewers, and a variety of exotic dishes. Jeff ducked off to the side, not picking up a plate.

"When was the last time you ate?" Gregg asked, finding him alone near the firepit.

"Yesterday," Jeff answered.

"No breakfast? Or lunch?" Gregg said.

"I was too nervous about the race at breakfast, and I don't like to eat before running. It slows me down."

"You weren't slow this afternoon. You beat Brad in that race," Gregg said, testing him.

"Yes, I know," Jeff replied.

"You know? And you still allowed all of this to happen?"

"The judges said I lost. I agreed to abide by their decision."

"Your friends fucked you over," Gregg said.

"Well, I can't really call them friends, can I? We had bad history at Claymore High, but I didn't realize they would be so dishonest."

"I want you to eat something. Let's go to the buffet," Gregg insisted.

"I'm not hungry," Jeff responded, looking at the bustling crowd that was largely ignoring him for their food. The talk was mellow, and genial. Jeff couldn't remember ever attending such an event. Gregg was watching his reactions.

"You are our slave. You will eat," Gregg said. "Should I reattach your leash?"

"No, master. I will obey," Jeff answered lightheartedly.

They joined Brad, Hayden, and three women at a picnic table. Jeff recognized them. Along with Sheryl, two were the lacrosse players he'd met earlier that afternoon. He picked at the food at first, and then hunger got the better of him. He needed a napkin to keep juices from running down his bare body into embarrassing areas.

"Do you like sports other than running?" Sandy asked, an attractive brunette with big brown eyes and a nice rack.

"My focus has been sprinting the last year," he answered. "I miss playing softball. And soccer. I miss a lot of things."

"Track can't be the only thing in your life?" Tracy questioned, a lovely redhead.

"What else do I have?" Jeff answered. "Being a monk, I haven't had time to make friends. As Brad keeps pointing out."

"You seem to know a lot about Shakespeare," Gregg mentioned.

"And art," Hayden said. "You seemed to recognize all the poses those artists wanted without being asked. And you didn't even blink when Darla compared you to Mercury."

"During high school, I spent a lot of time in the library," Jeff explained. "I probably read every book twice."

"Do you live at the dorms?" Sheryl asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Jeff responded without thinking.

"Ma'am? How old do you think I am? I'm not a ma'am. Maybe you should be punished for saying that?" she playfully suggested.

"How would you like him to be punished?" Brad asked. Sheryl looked to Sandy and Tracy, seeking advice.

"Make him sing a song with the band. On stage," Sandy said with a giggle.

"That sounds good," Brad agreed. "Very fitting. Slave?"

"I am subject to your will, master," Jeff replied, not sounding unhappy. Without prodding, he climbed on stage to talk with the band members. After the initial shock of having a naked youngster approach them, the band leader struck up a conversation.

"This is so fucking weird," Hayden whispered, leaning over so everyone wouldn't hear. "Why isn't Jeff freaked out?"

"I've got no clue. I thought for sure this would rattle him," Brad replied.

"Damn it, Brad, why do you want to rattle him?" Gregg asked. "He's doing every goddamn thing we've asked him to do. And he knows you lost the race."

"Brad lost the race?" Sheryl said. "If Brad lost, why is Jeff naked? That's not right."

"It's a long story," Brad answered.

"It sounds like a creepy trick, if you ask me," Sheryl said, looking angry. "I wouldn't have permitted this if I'd known." She got up and left the table. Sandy and Tracy stood to follow, frowning.

"Hayden, you can forget our lunch date on Wednesday," Tracy whispered. "I wouldn't give someone like you the time of day."

Sandy was a bit more forthright. "You fuckers suck," she mumbled, walking away.

Alone at the table, the three men huddled to discuss the problem.

"They won't be the only ones thinking that," Gregg warned.

"Gregg, I know I lost the race. You know it. Hayden knows it. And Jeff's so-called friends knew it. I have every intention of telling everyone else when the moment is right. But we still have a score to settle first."

"I still don't get what this score is all about," Gregg complained. "What did Jeff ever do to you?"

"That's not what this a about," Brad answered. "You'll need to be patient."

The band reorganized onstage, the leader at the microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a guest singer tonight," he announced. "It's a bit unusual, but then, you folks at Midvale Valley College are known for your unusual entertainments. Let's give him a warm welcome."

Jeff stood center stage, clearly shy but toughing it out. As the music started, he didn't need a microphone, his singing voice strong and clear. It was an old rock song about a girl with brown eyes. He looked down at Sandy with a smile. And then he sang another, this one about a man in a bar not wanting to fall in love with a mysterious woman. Jeff glanced at Tracy for that one. It was followed by an Irish ballad about lost love.

"Hell, he's fucking good," Sheryl said, finding others agreed.

"Who would have guessed?" Brad said, seeing the audience nodding and tapping their feet. "You may need to pay him, Cherry."

"Hey, Brad, look," Hayden said, poking him. They saw Mark Leads and Bryan Manning arrive with their dates, Janice and Paula. The four entered cautiously, a little intimidated by the seniors. Mark was carrying Jeff's gym bag, which he dumped near the back door. They instantly grinned to see Jeff on stage naked before the large crowd, moving to the front row.

"Are those the creeps who said Jeff lost the race?" Sheryl asked. "The ones he went to high school with?"

"Yes. They really fucked him over, and it wasn't the first time," Brad answered.

Jeff finished the final song with a flourish, receiving applause from the pleased crowd. He saw Mark and Bryan as he came down from the stage, ignoring them. It looked like they had been drinking. Brad, Gregg, and Hayden approached.

"Where did you learn to sing like that?" Gregg asked.

"I like to sing to myself while I'm training," Jeff replied. "I've always been too shy to sing in public until today."

"You did great, Jeff," Sheryl praised, kissing him on the cheek.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Mark asked, intruding on the group. His speech was slurred. His eyes red. "We came here to see this little puke humiliated. Isn't that what we were promised?"

Several guests started to object. Brad hushed them.

"What humiliation would you like to see?" Brad inquired. The freshmen were attracting a crowd.

"First, put him back in the handcuffs," Mark insisted. To Jeff's surprise, Hayden appeared behind him, tying his hands with the rope. He put the leash back on Jeff's collar. Jeff looked around, getting scared.

"Is this sufficient?" Brad asked.

"No, it's got to be worse. A lot worse," Janice spoke up. "He was such an arrogant little prick at Claymore High. Smarter than everyone else. Always hiding in the library. A teacher's pet. Make him do something really bad."

"Like what?" Brad questioned.

"Make him get down on his knees and suck my boyfriend's dick while everyone watches," Janice answered.

"Yeah, that sounds like fun," Bryan agreed.

"I would love to see that," Paula jumped in. "We talked about making him do that in school but were afraid we would be expelled. Bryan, make him suck your dick, too. Janice and I will take pictures."

"Isn't that a lot to ask?" Brad mildly suggested. "After all, he wouldn't even be naked if you hadn't lied about him losing the race."

"The little freak had it coming," Mark confessed. "Besides, he likes it. Why else would he ask us to judge the race after the hell we put him through for three years?"

"Jeff was always asking for it," Bryan added, boasting with a drunken swagger. "Isn't that right, Jeffy?"

"Wasn't stealing your towel in the showers enough?" Mark recalled. "And those times we stuffed your naked tush in the janitor's closet?"

"Or how you guys kept pushing him into the girls' locker room naked, and then closing the door behind him," Janice said with a giggle. "I still have those wonderful photos of him hiding under a bench."

"Don't forget when the guys made Jeffy streak the girls' basketball game. That was the best," Paula remarked with glee. "I tackled him at center court and held him down until the coach came out with a blanket. Then when they reached the bench, Janice pulled the blanket off him right in front of the school photographer. Jeffy was sobbing."

"With snot running from his nose," Janice added with a victorious grin. "Sherry Nettleman got fired for putting the picture up on the Claymore website, but she always said it was worth it."

The four were having a wonderful time humiliating their former classmate as Jeff's head hung in shame. The seniors watching the show didn't seem as enthused.

"Maybe Jeff thought bygones would be bygones now that you're in college?" Brad asked.

"That's what a stupid fuck like him would think, but that isn't how the real world works," Bryan explained with a snicker. "Tormenting cowardly shits like Jeff never gets old."

"Well, Jeff, what do you think? Your friends here think you should suck their dicks while we watch," Brad said.

All eyes were on Jeff for his reaction, naked, tied up, and collared before the large audience.

"I would rather not," Jeff shakily answered.

"And if I order you to?" Brad asked. Jeff was shivering but refused to cower.

"I promised to obey you," Jeff replied, sinking to his knees and awaiting orders. His breathing was stressed, the shoulders slumped. All could see the fear gripping him. Gregg stepped forward to put a stop to it, but Brad held him back.

"Jeff, you have an old school friend. Cindy Palmer. Remember her?" Brad asked.

"Yes, she was always nice to me," Jeff confirmed.

"She's in the fine arts department now. A fashion major. During your modeling assignment, I tracked her down to ask questions about your school days. It would seem your friends here are legendary."

"We had good times," Mark agreed with a smirk, staring down at his victim. "And now they are about to get better."

"Much better," Janice said, grabbing Jeff by the hair. The fearsome four didn't seem to notice the reactions around them.

"I would like to be clear about something," Brad said, holding up his hands to address everyone on the patio. "I knew Jeff won the race today. So did Gregg and Hayden. But we expected Jeff's friends to tell the truth, which would have made the race a draw. By lying, they put us in an awkward position."

"Very awkward," Gregg said, finally realizing what score Brad intended to settle.

"To be clear, I wanted to humble Jeff. I thought he had a bad attitude that needed correcting. And he did. But I see now where that came from. Does anyone else see it, too?"

The Claymore High graduates began to grow uncomfortable, finding themselves surrounded by football players. Members of the track team. Janice and Paula were pressed by the women's lacrosse team.

"It's clear to me," Sheryl growled, her fists clenched.

Brad had intended to take charge of what was coming but now he saw that wasn't necessary. He had never seen Sheryl so angry. She glanced at Tracy and Sandy, who were no less furious. They motioned to their girlfriends, who motioned to their boyfriends. Sheryl's army began to close in.

"I think we'll be leaving now," Mark said, finally sensing the danger. He was stopped by a large linebacker. Hayden picked Jeff up, untied his hands, and put a robe over his shoulders.

"I think you're going to take off your clothes," Sheryl said, standing before the nervous freshmen.

"All of them," Tracy pressed, standing at Sheryl's side.

"We're not taking our clothes off for you bitches," Bryan tactlessly replied.

"You heard them. Strip," Brad ordered, stepping close.

"No, we aren't going to do that," Mark protested.

"It's not a request," Brad said. "You embarrassed me today. The race should have been declared a draw, but you forced me to follow through on a bet that I didn't legitimately win. That makes me look bad in front of my friends. Jeff, just so you know, our score was settled the moment you came here tonight. Standing up like a man and keeping your word. You're free now. But I needed you as bait for these sick fucks. Sorry about that."

Jeff nodded but couldn't speak, overwhelmed by seeing his schoolyard bullies shaking in terror.

"Okay, let's do this," Sheryl said, having run out of patience.

"Strip their bitches, too," Tracy demanded. The mob closed in, not only stripping Mark and Bryan, but also going after Janice and Paula.

"Don't! Don't!" Mark howled as his shirt, pants, and underwear were torn off him.

"Not me! It was the guys! It was always the guys!" Janice shrieked, her panties ripped from her hips, displaying her shaved pussy.

"Oh, God, don't do this. It wasn't my idea. I never wanted to hurt Jeff," Paula cried, faring no better. She was on the ground, her legs spread open by Sandy and Tracy as she tried to cover her large naked breasts.

Bryan briefly tried to fight back but was quickly subdued. Within a few minutes, stark naked and surrounded by an angry crowd, the bullies watched as Hayden and Gregg threw their clothes into the firepit.

"Please don't hurt us," Mark begged, on his knees, trying to cover his privates. Tracy slapped his hands away.

"What should we do with these degenerates?" Brad asked.

"We should make them suck dicks," Sandy answered.

"We can post their pictures on the internet," Gregg said, raising his phone. Dozens of others did, too. Jeff realized it was the first time in the entire evening he'd seen any photos taken. None had been taken of him. One by one, each of the tormentors were paraded around the patio, forced into humiliating positions, and threatened with vile sex acts, making them cringe.

"We'll be tagging these photos for the college website," Brad said. "And we have video of them confessing what they did to Jeff. I'm sure the dean will want to know what kind of students have been admitted to Midvale."

"Please don't do that. We were just kids. We didn't know any better," Mark pleaded.

"You're not kids anymore, and we heard what you wanted for Jeff tonight, so save your whining bullshit for someone who cares," Sandy replied.

"Well, boys and girls, we can't legally fuck these losers," Sheryl said. "What should be do with them?"

"Throw them in the pool!" Tracy shouted.

"No, the water is freezing!" Janice objected.

"Not as cold as your cold bitch heart," Tracy replied, grabbing her hair.

The four were thrown into the icy water, hauled out, and dragged by the mob into the dark street.

"Now get the fuck out of here before it gets worse," Brad warned.

"But we can't. My car keys. Our phones. Our clothes," Mark moaned, shivering on the sidewalk.

"Everything went in the bonfire, loser. They're all gone," Hayden said. "But we called an Uber for you. Down at the corner. Start walking."

As the four scurried away, naked and freezing, the avengers returned to the patio for more drinks, music, and dessert. Someone found gray gym clothes for Jeff, who looked stunned. Sheryl led him to the picnic table where Brad, Gregg, Hayden, and several of the women joined him.

"What do you think, little buddy? Have you finally gotten payback?" Brad asked.

"Thanks for not doing that to me," Jeff said, still finding it hard to talk.

"Those bullies gave you some pretty hard years," Sandy said, holding his hand.

"I try not to think about those times," Jeff replied. "It's one of the reasons I train so hard. And with the help of some friends, I'll remember to never embarrass anyone else ever again."

"You won that race today. In the last stretch, you put your heart into it and passed me. Like a champion. I'm the one who should be naked. If you want me to take that loser lap--"

"Brad, we're good. It's all good," Jeff assured him.

"Kid, you have a lot of guts," Brad said. "I predict you're going to do great at Midvale, and great at whatever you try next. Will you shake my hand?"

They shook. There were backslaps and teasing.

"Don't think you're getting off so easy," Sheryl suddenly interjected.

"How's that?" Brad asked.

"You lost the race," Sheryl said. "A match race. Midvale Valley College has traditions. You're going to be doing that naked loser lap whether Jeff wants you to or not. And we're going to be there to make sure of it. Aren't we, girls?"

"Yes," Tracy replied with a leering grin.

"All of us," Sandy said, giggling. "The whole lacrosse team."

A pre-law student from an adjoining table leaned over, tapping Brad on the shoulder. Brad saw the entire party had grown quiet, listening to their conversation.

"You made us part of this, Brad," he said. "We're all going to be there as witnesses."

"Everyone?" Brad asked, looking around at sixty determined faces.

"You did lose," Gregg chimed in. "Keeping your word isn't much to ask."

"Sheryl is correct, you must do it," Hayden pressed with a grim stare.

Brad acknowledged their argument. He knew the tradition better than anyone.

"Tomorrow morning, 10 o'clock," Brad agreed with a reluctant sigh.

"Can I ask a question?" Jeff asked, wolfing down a pork chop. The kid was hungry.

"Sure," Brad answered.

"Why no photos today? I would have thought that's what you wanted," Jeff wondered. "Isn't photography your major?"

"It's true that I didn't permit any photos of you today. That's not what this was about. Though I was tempted," Brad confessed. "Let me ask a favor. Would you pose for me in my studio? Not porn. Artistic poses, like in the art class today."

"Let me understand," Jeff answered, smiling. "You tricked me into getting naked, handcuffed me, stole my clothes, led me through the heart of campus on a leash, showed me off to numerous women, had me pose for an art class, audition for the theater department, made me attend a party where I was the only one naked, and had me sing bare ass on stage before a cheering audience, and now you want me to pose nude for you?"

There was a lot of chuckling around the table.

"You make it sound worse than it was," Brad defended with a laugh.