The Church of the Fleshlight Ch. 06

Marty Gunderson woke up with a throbbing boner.

He stretched wide and yawned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes in the morning light. His sheets were tossed in a loose ball near his feet, kicked off in sleep. He rolled out of bed, grasping lazily for his glasses on the desk. He put them on with one hand while absentmindedly scratching his hairy balls with the other. At the sink, he brushed his teeth and washed out his mouth, eyes half-lidded. In the mirror, his heavy dark circles gave his expression a severe edge. He ran spare fingers through his sparse hair, combing it forward to cover his receding hairline.

At 20, he was pretty fucking pissed that he was already balding. In the few memories he had of his father, the old man was bald too. They already shared a lanky, slight build. Marty didn't want to look any more like him.

He padded into their shared bathroom in his boxer briefs. He'd always gone shirtless in the dorm rooms, but ever since the communal fleshlight agreement two weeks ago, he'd been naked or in his undies almost all the time. His buddies hadn't complained. Brock was used to seeing Marty changing in his room. Jack found it funny to start giving his friend some very brutal nut taps. Marty'd expected Reggie to put up a fuss, but he was uncharacteristically nonchalant about it.

Of all three guys, Reggie and himself were the least well acquainted. They had very different ways of doing things. Reggie had accepted that he wasn't a fortunate, high-percentile male. He spent his mental energy trying to find value outside of that social hierarchy. Marty, though, wanted nothing more than to climb that ladder. He'd focused on self improvement to escape that social sentence, finding comfort in the logical formality of looksmaxxing techniques and alpha-male guides. His demeanor softened once he'd found his friends, but he still saw himself as one of life's 'winners', just... yet to be recognized.

Through the bathroom door, he stood above their toilet with his hands on his hips. He let loose his morning piss, indifferent to its trajectory. Once the last of it had dribbled out, he shook off the undies and his hand autopiloted to the fleshlight. He and the boys had settled into a rhythm. Brock and Reggie would have an early morning sesh before heading out for their 10 AM's, usually in Marty and Brock's room. Marty was, after all, a deep sleeper. He'd wake up again around 11, use the toy, then head out to his own class. Jack woke up last to stroke it, then hurry off--late--to a lecture. That meant Brock and Reggie usually had the toy lubed up and ready by the time Marty got around to it.

Sure enough, as Marty angled his thin hairy prick towards the opening, it slid home with a comforting squelch. He kept the toy pumping up and down while he strolled over to his desk, pausing to accommodate a full-body involuntary shiver. Sometimes he'd have work to get done, but today he decided he'd skip his class. The CS tournament was only a few days away, and he was doing well enough in his finance class to afford the grade hit. After all, the business degree he was working towards wasn't exactly rocket science.

Out of all of them, he was the most serious about their esports team. Marty liked to win. He was hopeful that with the extra time to practice, his buddies could shore up their skills enough to get podium. The money wasn't bad either: the prize for bronze was only $50, but the real boon was the funding they could secure from the university. Podium would give them some weight to throw around in their annual budget meeting. He'd had his eyes on an 8-core CPU, but without a job, this funding was his only chance.

He sat in his gamer chair and rolled up to his desk. The chair's trapped scent reactivated when his warm body reclined. He really didn't understand why it was such a big deal to everyone. In Marty's opinion, all people smelled like *something*. It wasn't his fault that he got dealt a bad hand.

Reclining in his seat, he reached underneath the table to pull down a shoddily-crafted harness. The amalgam of duct tape shook free, no longer tucked behind his desk's crossbeam. A plastic cup hung from two duct tape cords, each angled thirty degrees from horizontal. The cup's mouth faced the college boy's pelvis. A single duct tape strap ran from the bottom of the rim downward, ending in a broad mat of double-sided tape hanging unattached. Marty pulled the bottom strap toward his body, lifting his ass off the chair for a second to pin the mat between his butt and the seat. This locked him into the contraption. Marty slid the canister in, adjusted the angle, and began to rock back and forth on his seat.

The invention was Jack's, and he he reminded the boys of that each time they made fun of his dim-witted remarks. He'd wanted to call it the 'goon harness', which Marty had no qualms about. Brock and Reggie maintained that 'gamer mount' was more appropriate. No matter what it was, Marty had to guarantee that his was completely double-sided--after a few of his asshairs ripped out the first time, he'd checked the duct tape extensively for weak points.

He opened up 3Daimtrainer. com and began his hour of practice. They'd train the next two days before heading to the neighboring city's rec center on Friday. If they qualified, they'd stay until Saturday for the bracket.

Marty settled in. Hours later, after a quick morning bowl, he hit a PB for accuracy. He'd cum in the fleshlight three times. Whenever he got super sensitive, he could just roll backwards in his seat. After waiting for ten or so minutes, he could slip back in and keep going with his warm cum as lube. The downside of the device was that even at his quickest, he could only rock his chair so fast. Still, it was plenty to stimulate him to climax. Just slower.

He'd been watching the time and decided he had to head out for the day. He pulled out, stored his gamer mount, and closed the game. He poured the cum out into his bedside bin, already brimming over with soaked tissues. Brock said it smelled horrible, so he'd bought Marty a cheap step-open trash can. It sat ajar, sticky fluid gumming up the hinge.

He started to get ready, fleshlight still secure around his dick. He filled his purple shaker bottle with a mixture of whey powder and G-fuel. Of the four of them, he was also the only one to frequent the gym. He insisted that the workouts maintained his high testosterone levels. It did that and more, spawning acne across his back and giving him some crippling body dysmorphia.

He walked to the wardrobe, grabbing a dry-fit tee. To use both hands, he leaned his pelvis towards the closet and pinned the end of the canister against the door. That way, he kept his cock secured inside. It was a fun game to play, to see how much of his routine he could perform while inside the toy. He loved having it around his penis, even if he wasn't thrusting or anything. It just felt good. He loved every second he got with it.

His motivations for their commons agreement had changed over the last few weeks. In the beginning, he saw it as an opportunity to relieve stress and ease anxiety until the tournament. Sure, he wanted a turn on the thing, too. But he'd been 90% utilitarian in his proposal. Now... he felt differently. As much as the toy physically pleased him, that wasn't entirely it. The intimacy in their openness flew in the face of Marty's ideas about what a man like him should be. Without society's watchful eye, he'd found true comfort in the experimentation their agareement permitted. He and his close friends could be an honest version of themselves, a luxury that Marty didn't know he needed.

He took his pair of boxer briefs from the floor, the stretchy fabric loose and light. He tried to put them on while still inside the toy, but it slipped and toppled to the floor. A flash of annoyance crossed him; he wished he didn't have to put it away to go to the gym and his classes. Class would actually be much more tolerable with his cock in the toy.

Truthfully, everything would be much more tolerable with the toy.

Marty's forehead creased in thought as he reached to grab the toy. What if... he didn't have to leave the toy? What if he could take it with him?

He'd need something to keep it on him. He just needed something like Jack's gamer mount. Then, he could use it under his gym shorts while working the machines in the back. The stretched threads of his boxer briefs wouldn't do, but maybe...

He dug to the bottom of his underwear drawer to find a pair of tighty whities. They were big on him and he didn't like the style. Though, this sort of underwear was like the gamer mount insofar as it kept his cock in the stroker.

He pulled the pair on and tested it out, stretching the waistband of the underwear to shove the toy's canister down inside. He pushed it into the pouch, letting the stiff fibers reawaken. He aimed the hole towards his shiny red dick and slipped inside. He shivered, letting the pleasure flood him again. He removed his hand from his undies and took a look in their sink's vanity mirror.

It was like he had an obscene, extremely unbelievably shaped dick. The front of the underwear strained towards the protrusion, pulling the waistband lower near the midline of his body. The leg holes were stretched forward as well so air flowed around his balls. He shook his new prosthetic back and forth, watching how the rigid toy teetered in his underwear. It didn't stroke him much, but it was enough for him to just be inside. He just needed it with him; Jack would have to wait until the afternoon.

A pair of black cargo shorts masked it from the front. From the side... well, that was their problem for looking. He opened the door, stepping outside with his little secret.

--

Hours later, he walked home in the descending sun. His outing inside the toy had been draining, literally and mentally. At least three loads squelched around in his affixed cocksleeve. Trudging home, he was eager to get some G-fuel in his system. He walked into his room and called out to his buddies to see who was home.

"Reggie and I are in here!" Jack called back. He walked through the bathroom to see the two on Reggie's bed rewatching one of the Lord of the Rings movies. Jack's pants and underwear were around his ankles, one hand stroking away at his short cock as his eyes remained glued to the screen. His face was placid as he enjoyed the movie. Reggie's fly was open, the head of his cock visible above his underwear's waistband. Reggie's eyes redirected to Marty as he started to speak.

"Hey bros, what's going on?"

Jack turned to Marty, indignant. "Better question: where's the fleshlight? We've been looking all over for it."

"Oh right! Yeah I've got it guys, but I'm not sure you'll want to use it..."

"Bullshit," Reggie chimed in, eyes refocused on the screen. "Give it here, you've had it for long enough."

Marty smirked. His friends had taken the bait. Marty unzipped his shorts and let them fall to the floor, weighed down by his room keys and wallet. The obscene bulge in his briefs was a sight indeed, especially now that the pliable fabric had contoured itself around the ridges of the toy's casing.

Jack finally brought his full attention away from the movie. "Dude... that's genius."

Marty's smirk morphed into a cheeky grin. He'd been pretty proud of himself, too. "Idea was basically yours, Jack. Turns out, briefs work really well as a mobile goon harness."

Marty looked to Reggie, expecting him to correct their silly name. Instead, the boy's expression was difficult to parse. It was maybe... anticipation? Confusion? Marty wasn't great at reading people's faces, but he could still glean that Reggie was being extra aloof.

"It's just a joke, Reg. I'll wash it if it really bothers you, it's just sweat though. And cum, obviously."

"No, its not... well yeah, that's kind gross, dude," He mentioned diminutively. It lacked any real venom, though. "But no, I just don't know how you didn't get caught, that's all."

"I think people just thought I had a huge dick," He replied, shaking the canister inside of his underwear. It wagged up and down at the two boys. Jack broke into a smile, amused by his friend's comically large 'boner.' Reggie looked... Marty struggled to put a finger on it... bashful? Once Jack registered Reggie's expression, his smile only broke larger as he started to giggle.

"Good one bro," Jack snarked. "I bet Reggie *hates* that."

Reggie shot a cold glance to Jack and got defensive immediately. "Fuck off. I don't even know what you're getting at bro."

Jack raised his hands to concede, though the exchange still left Marty in the dark. He arched his brow, but neither boy said anything.

"Well here's this if you guys want it," Marty said, pulling his waistband away from his body and clasping the cylinder. He pulled it forward, a slight sigh escaping his mouth as his cock slipped from the opening. It hung, slightly red and shiny, over the waistband of his underwear. Globs of thick cum clung to his dark, ungroomed pubes like Christmas baubles in a tree. He tossed it toward their bed, watching Reggie catch it. Reggie shuddered at the sweaty surface of the canister, warm from Marty's body.

"Remember, we're starting matches in an hour or so; whenever Brock gets back. Go nuts. I'm gonna go smoke."

Marty turned to leave the room when he heard Jack protest. "Don't you want in on this rotation? As is, it would just be back and forth between me and Reggie."

"I was kinda thinking you two would wanna use it. I've had it all day."

"Well, just come back after you smoke. We need more... bonding." Jack shot Reggie a subtle glance, which Reggie refused to answer.

"Uh, yeah. Sure, I'm down. Gimme a few," he told the boys, turning back to walk through the bathroom to his & Brock's unit. The oversized underwear sagged, showing his friends the top half of his ass. He paused in the bathroom to tug them the rest of the way off, along with his shirt. They were cast against the door before he carried on, relishing in the freedom of his balls swinging free in the cool air.

--

Jack watched his friend choke out a moan as he shot his load in the toy. After some taunting, he'd let Reggie have it. Of course, Jack was always going to let him go first, but seeing him get desperate was entertaining. Making him plead for their friend's musty, sweaty, used sex-toy was hilarious, especially considering how prim and proper he'd always been. Deep down, he loved being a dude just like the rest of them. And, as Jack had come to find, he loved being with other dudes. Which was cool. They all did, kinda, but that was a fraternal thing. It was their brotherhood. Reggie added nascent sexuality to that dynamic.

Reggie hadn't told Jack that he was gay, but Jack had figured it out pretty easily. Reggie's lingering looks at Marty's body were a big clue. Then there was Brock's face whenever the four of them jerked off together; Jack had guessed Reggie must have confided in him, as those two always were great friends. When he found a pair of Marty's boxer briefs poorly hidden by Reggie's hamper, that pretty much sealed the deal.

Jack could see why Reggie was infatuated: Marty was probably the most 'dude' of them all. He was lean, muscles slowly growing from the gym. Jack wouldn't describe him as handsome: his jawline was pimpled and patched with dark facial hair. His nose was long and bony, cheekbones gaunt. Bushy eyebrows laid below a broad and growing forehead. Not the prettiest. Then again, Jack wasn't gay. He just really liked jerking off, and he thought all of this--the compromise, the crush and the gooning trance--was icing on a jerk-off-with-your-friends cake.

He knew, though, that despite Reggie's attraction, the guy wouldn't take initiative. He had to give him a little push.

Jack waited with a recovering Reggie, watching the movie and jerking lazily with the toy. He'd wiped the sweat off the fleshlight after Reggie had finished with it. He watched Reggie get up, getting water and wiping down at the vanity. Jack finally heard what he was listening for: the window closing in the other room. He sneakily set a timer on his phone and waited for Marty's return.

He sauntered in, now dressed in a pair of blue boxers. His cock and balls stuck out through the button hole. "Gotta let it breathe. It was on there for 4 hours."

"Goddamn," Jack complimented.

"How'd you even enjoy that?" Reggie questioned. He'd shifted over by the vanity, leaning more intentionally into the mirror to pick off bits of dried cum from his torso. "It must have gotten old."

"You wish, bro," Marty chided. "It's a new way of life. It just makes everything better when your dick is getting massaged."

The alarm went off, catching the guys' attention. Jack picked it up like he'd received a call.

"Hello... Right now?... Alright, I'll see you there." He 'hung up' and turned to the pair. "Brock just called; there's something he wants help with in the library. I'm gonna run over."

"What?" Marty protested. "No, we were supposed to practice."

"Dude, chill, we'll be like 20 minutes tops. And then we'll be good to go. Anyway, uh, just gotta grab my backpack..." Jack 'tripped' over a stack of books and clothing on the ground, knocking down the pair of underwear Reggie had swiped.

"Oops! Well, I gotta go. Seeya!" Jack closed the door behind him, knowing the kind of chaos he'd unleashed. He waited in the hall for Brock to return so Jack could fill him in and they could give the boys some time to talk.

--

Marty stood over the boxer briefs, brow furrowed in confusion. Reggie was mortified. He knew he needed an excuse, but he couldn't think.

"Why do you have these, bro?" He asked, cautious. He reached down, balls swinging as he stooped low and picked them up. He sniffed them, finding them less-than-decent. "They aren't even washed. I thought you hated my smell."

Reggie's stammering was getting him nowhere. "I- I didn't even know that was there-"

"Reggie? Why do you have these?" Their eyes met and Reggie relented.

"I... I'm sorry, I'm just going through some stuff and I can't really explain it. But I think... I was experimenting. And I think that I'm maybe. Bisexual."

Marty's confusion intensified. "You're bi? ... That doesn't really explain why you have them. Are you..."

Reggie cringed as he anticipated the confrontation.

"... like, into underwear?"

Reggie stared at him in bafflement. "What? Fuck no, dude, I'm not into underwear!"

Marty's wore a sincere expression that Reggie recognized as genuine inquiry, which only made the situation more preposterous. "Well I don't know."

They kept eye contact for a silent beat before Marty prompted again. "So?"

"Alright... well, it's like, you're the most manly of all of us. So. You smell like a dude and I guess I was just trying to figure things out."

Marty absorbed this information. It was unexpected, of course, and his impulse was to lean away from that uncomfortability. But, together in their dorm room, there was no immediacy to act. For the sake of Reggie--his friend of three years--he sat with the confession.

This was his friend, his teammate, his brother. Reggie was coming to him with something personal. It was also something that embarrassed him. This was another opportunity to build their bond, especially because Reggie and himself had always been more distant than the others. If he could help Reggie and affirm his sexuality, they could both become greater friends.

"Did you enjoy it?" Marty asked after a while. Reggie looked horrified.

"Marty, please, don't--"

"No. Tell me. Did you like it? Yes or no?"

Reggie's heartbeat was almost audible from their middling distance. "... yes, okay, but only--"

"Dude, sit down."

"Marty, I really wish we could just pretend-"

"No!" Marty almost yelled. In the privacy of their conversation, it was scary. "You're not supposed to pretend anymore! That's the point! I don't know why I'm the only one who gets it, the only one who actually wants to do it. I really thought this was finally gonna be a place where I didn't have to worry about faking everything, and then you go around and do it anyway. So we're going to talk, so you're going to sit! Down!" He was having trouble regulating his feelings. Reggie took a small step back, giving him some space to breathe.

"Ok... but only if you do, Marty." The fire in Marty's eyes tempered as he recognized Reggie's gentler tone. It was the voice that he used when he wanted Marty to slow down. He reminded himself of his friend's kindness as he sank into Jack's chair. Reggie reciprocated, dropping into his own.

The two sat for a while. The routine procedure for when Marty gets too emotional is to let him diffuse in silence.

"I blew up," Marty admitted.

"Marty, I didn't mean to make you feel like I was lying to you. I was worried that you'd think I was weird, or think less of me because I might be into dudes. But you're right, I did lie to you. And I'm sorry."

"Reggie, I've made a commitment to you, Brock, and Jack. That's the commitment of being dudes together. And dudes are dudes, no matter what. You should've just asked me."

"I know."

"Will you ask me?"

"What?"

"If you want to do something, will you tell me?"

Reggie took his turn to be confused. "I'm not sure I understand."

Marty sighed and searched for words, pressing his fingertips against each other in thought. "I don't pick up on cues. So if you want me to do something or say something, you need to tell me. Otherwise, I won't get it."

"What do you think I want from you?" There was a false sting to the words that concealed fierce defensiveness.

"Nothing! I'm telling you that you are my bro, and bros help bros out. So you'll ask?"

Reggie met Marty's eyes. "I-"

The door rattled loudly as Brock and Jack made an overenthusiastic effort to announce their arrival. Reggie and Marty had one last silent exchange, affirming their commitment to the group and each other before Marty rose from the chair and got up to scold the co-conspirators on their tardiness. Still, Reggie's heart fluttered with anxiety over the entire situation.

He also finally had the wherewithal to be pissed at Jack for pulling that stunt.

Fuck you, Jack.