Knot at the Gym

Moving away to avoid his bullies, Jim ends up walking right into the lion’s den. Fortunately, New York is nothing like his hometown, and things end up breaking his way in the end.

Jim had one of those birthdays, far enough from the end of August that everyone was still in the summer mood, but close enough that everyone was trying to squeeze in one last out-of-town trip before the start of school. Not that Jim many friends to celebrate his birthdays with in the first place, but he couldn’t help but feel sad when he spent his birthdays alone; family didn’t count.

This year’s birthday was a special one, though. He didn’t mind so much that he didn’t have anyone to celebrate it with. He was turning 19, and heading off to university as soon as the schoolyear started. High school had officially ended, and it couldn’t have done so any earlier. Jim was sick of all the bullying that he’d had to endure, and was more than ready to start anew out of state.

Jim was under no illusion that the move would be easy, but he felt that it was what he had to do. Even though he lived in a sizable city, it still felt like he had spent the last almost two decades of his life in a backward bumpkin town.

At Jim’s high school, being poor or gay were two of the most likely things to get a guy bullied. As it so happened, Jim was both. His parents and grandparents accepted him well enough, though the latter had taken a bit longer to come around, but hardly anyone else did.

The only reason that Jim even got to study at the area’s most prestigious high school was the fact that his grandfather’s legacy was still remembered and respected in the school. Not that it afforded him one whit of protection from the teachers, or even a modicum of respect from the other students.

Although they were quite encouraging, Jim’s family had grown up with a very community-centric mindset. However much he’d complained about bullying the first year that he studied at the high school, they tried to teach him how to handle it, rather than make a fuss and rock the boat.

Jim blamed them, a little, but they were so supportive otherwise that it was hard to feel resentful. He did blame the culture that they had grown up in, and was only thankful that his siblings were a lot more independent of thought, like him.

When it came time to decide where he wanted to take his life after high school, the choice to study out-of-state came all-too-easily to Jim. It wasn’t that he wasn’t going to miss his family—because he was—he just needed to get away and experience a life that wasn’t quite so sheltered.

Jim knew that his parents were more worried that he’d get in over his head rather than get in trouble studying away from home, but it was what he needed to do and they at least recognized that. In any case, Jim was just glad that it hadn’t come to a fight, and he was leaving home on good terms.

Since his birthday was the day before the student dorms officially opened for moving in, Jim got himself packed the night before and booked a flight later that evening. He was in no great hurry to leave his old life behind, but he was definitely more than a little bit excited to see the sights at NYU.

After dinner out at a relatively fancy restaurant, Jim and his parents drove off to the airport with the meager belongings that he had. The goodbye was teary-eyed, but promises were made for holiday visits. Jim’s mother even managed to sneak in a joke that she expected him to bring home a man.

There wasn’t a dry eye between Jim and his parents when he finally went through the gate but it didn’t take long for Jim to recover from his sadness. If anything, he was a bit too eager to get onboard the plane that would take him to his future.

The first time that Jim walked into his mandatory first year English class, he felt a knot of dread settle into the pit of his stomach. He was early to the first class of the day, so there weren’t many people when he sat down near the front row of the lecture theatre. He had no idea why he felt so unsettled and anxious all of a sudden. It wasn’t the fact that he was now studying in university, because he’d gone to class yesterday, for his other courses, and he hadn’t felt this way at all.

It wasn’t until Jim heard a voice he’d hoped he would never have to hear again that he realized he’d been having a premonition. "Hey Jimmy-boy! You came to NYU?" came the dulcet baritone voice of Caleb Fischer, Jim’s primary and most dogged tormentor during his high school years.

"Go away, Caleb. Don’t you have anyone else to bother?" Jim said stiffly. He would have liked to put his head down to not have to see what the summer had done to Caleb’s annoyingly-attractive face, but the jock had swung out around the front of his desk before he could get the chance.

Caleb looked like he’d grown another couple of inches over the summer, and his face, which had still had some of the baby fat of his teen years at graduation, had matured into the face of a young and very handsome man.

If only Caleb wasn’t so ugly on the inside, Jim might have developed a serious crush on him. As it was, Caleb had still managed to feature a few times in Jim’s masturbation fantasies. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

"Nah," said Caleb. "It’s just so much fun messing with you, squirt. When we graduated, I thought to myself, ‘Wow, I’ll really miss fucking with Jimmy Fagboy.’ Looks like it’s a good thing I went with NYU because now it means I won’t have to stop."

Jim looked around the empty lecture hall for any help, but the only other guy who was there was a jock with a backwards ball cap and a smirk as he watched the conversation between Caleb and Jim go down. "Nah, fagboy," said Caleb. "This place ain’t so different from back home. No one’s gonna help you if they know what’s good for them. Anyway, seeya ’round, fagboy."

The tips of Jim’s fingers felt cold as Caleb turned to walk away. The bully left a parting gift and mussed up the hairstyle that Jim had worked on for half an hour before coming to class.

"Yo, bro, that was tight," said an unfamiliar voice, probably from the fratboy that had been watching the whole thing go down. "Gotta warn you, though, this place is pretty libtard so don’t get too carried away. But I’ll always cheer on a bro doing God’s good work."

"Hell yeah, man. Mind if I sit with you, bro?" said Caleb. Before the other guy even answered, Jim already heard the sound of a chair being moved and a backpack being set against the ground. Typical Caleb. Not that he thought the other guy would mind.

"Nah, bro," said the fratboy. "Feel free. Could always use someone to talk with while the prof goes on about bullshit that doesn’t even matter. And if you ever need help messing with that fagboy over there, I wouldn’t mind being part of that action."

Great, Jim thought to himself miserably. It was only the second day of school and he was already back where he had started in high school. It would have been bad enough with just Caleb, but now he had an accomplice. Before long, there would be an entire gang of bullies that he would have to contend with, and he could conceive of nothing more unpleasant.

Somewhere out there in the vast universe, Jim supposed there must have been some cosmic entity laughing at him. Just his luck. He’d moved out of state to escape Caleb only to walk right back into the lion’s den.

Club Wylde, contrary to the name, was not in fact a place of recreation and carousing but a rather respectable new gym near campus. Jim had signed up hoping to finally get into working out, like he’d always meant to. With Caleb lurking in the wings, he now hoped that he could at least bulk up enough to defend himself from the bully.

Unfortunately for Jim, the torment wasn’t to end at the boundaries of campus. When Jim saw the fratboy that Caleb had been hanging out with, Jim hoped against hope that Caleb wasn’t also in the building. Such hopes were quickly dashed.

"What are you doing here, fagboy?" Caleb chirped from somewhere behind Jim. He was wearing a tight tank top and a pair of gym shorts that really showed off the "Here to ogle the rest of us normal men? Careful, now. Someone might decide to teach you your place."

Jim looked down, his cheeks and the tips of his ears burning with humiliation. The last thing he’d needed was to get his sexuality announced in front of a whole crowd of probably-homophobic men. HE nearly jumped out of his skin when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder.

A smooth, baritone voice spoke from behind Jim in an English accent so sexy it sent a shiver down Jim’s spine. "I should hope that I didn’t hear you being abusive and homophobic against one of our junior members," said the voice. "I would like to avoid such unpleasantness here."

Caleb scoffed. "Or what, big guy?" he said, puffing out his chest in a display of dominance that Jim would have shrunk away from if the guy behind him hadn’t been there to stop him. "You gonna sock me? Can’t help you if you’ve let the SJWs cut your balls off, but I’m just saying what everyone else here is thinking."

"I should think that I know my regular clientele well enough to be certain you don’t speak for them when you say such filth," said the voice. "I am, however, a patient and generous man, so I will give you a second chance today. Cross me again and you’ll regret it for the rest of your life."

"Pus—" Whatever Caleb was about to say was stopped by a hand on his chest. Caleb looked at the fratboy that he’d been hanging out with. "The fuck, Lyle?"

"I’d stop if I were you," said Lyle, shaking his head. "That guy’s the owner, and he means business. I told you, New York isn’t the kind of place you can say that sort of shit without consequences. Just let it go. You’re not going to win this today."

Caleb slapped Lyle’s hand away from his chest. He huffed and turned around. "Whatever," he said. It was the first time that Jim had ever seen Caleb walk away from a fight, though he could imagine why.

Club Wylde was the best gym in a mile radius, and even though the facilities were restricted only to VIP members during the evening hours, it was cheaper by a long shot than the rest of the gyms in the area. As brutish as Caleb was, Jim had never known him to be stupid. Caleb wouldn’t risk the deal of Club Wylde just to torment him.

"Sorry about that," said the voice behind Jim. The owner of the voice walked around in front of him. The man towered head, shoulders, and almost the entirety of his chest over Jim. "I’m Richard Wylde. If that boy ever makes trouble for you again, don’t hesitate to tell me. Let him see if any gym in the city will let him in their doors if he does."

Jim’s fingers trembled as he shook the man’s extended hand. Richard was beautiful. His eyes were a strange, almost-gold colour, but they looked amazing on his lined face and with the silver strands of his slicked-back hair.

"I-I’ll do that, sir. Thank you," said Jim. Not once in the last twenty four hours had he thought that he would have an ally against Caleb, much less one that was so beautiful. It seemed that for once, his luck wasn’t completely rotten.

"Now, why don’t I get you set up with one of our personal trainers by way of apology for that whole ordeal, alright?" said Richard. His firm hand on Jim’s back left little room for argument. "It’ll be completely on the house. Don’t worry about it. Just stay with us and I’ll be happy to accept that as payment."

Caleb hadn’t made any moves against Jim in the month since their confrontation at Club Wylde. Even so, Jim refused to be lulled into a false sense of security and snuck out of his English class as soon as he could, avoided the most crowded hallways, and worked out at hours that Caleb was unlikely to attend.

Today, though, it seemed that the fates had conspired to force their paths together. Jim had scarcely started his workout with his trainer Nasir when Caleb, Lyle, and another fratboy jock walked in through the door.

Jim begged Nasir to let him do a half-length session and thankfully the trainer acquiesced to his request without asking too many questions. He tried to sneak off to the showers before Caleb noticed and managed to dry himself off without incident. However, it was as he was reaching for his clothes with his towel around his waist that Caleb waltzed into the locker room like he owned the place.

Caleb and his new henchman cornered Jim against the lockers while Lyle stood watch at the entrance to the small alcove of lockers. "No cameras here, and Richard isn’t here to protect you, fagboy," said Caleb, with a sneer.

The new henchman grabbed the hem of Jim’s towel "skirt" and yanked it out of Jim’s hands however hard he was gripping it. "THat’s it?" said Caleb, chuckling derisively. "No wonder you were always trying to hide it in high school."

"Go. Open it," said Caleb. The new henchman pulled open one of the nearby lockers. There was a pile of dirty, musky jockstraps at the bottom of the locker, about a foot thick. It was a wonder they didn’t spill out. "They toss all the abandoned jockstraps here and clean it out once a month, right, Pablo?"

The new henchman, Pablo, nodded and grinned. He grabbed one of the dirty jockstraps and before Jim could say anything, stuffed it into Jim’s mouth. "Try and spit that out and a few teeth are going to come out with it," said Caleb, balling his fist and lining it up with Jim’s face.

Jim flinched, unable to help but whimper. He was terrified and yet, despite the situation, the taste of the jockstrap made his cock twitch. It wasn’t so bad. It was musty, musky, earthy, and a little bit bitter, but it wasn’t terrible.

"Look at the fagboy, getting excited," said Caleb, shaking his head. "Wow, that’s disgusting. But at least that means you won’t feel too bad about what’s coming next."

Caleb slung his gym bag off his shoulders and pulled out a roll of duct tape. Three long pieces secured the gag in Jim’s mouth, which was starting to taste worse as his spit soaked into the cotton. Pablo pulled Jim’s hands behind his back and Caleb taped his wrists together. His ankles were similarly fastened.

"Night night, faggot. Better hope someone finds you eventually," said Caleb. There was a cruel sneer on his face as he pulled Jim onto his feet with Pablo’s help. Together, the two shoved Jim into the locker. Unsurprisingly, despite a month of hard work, Jim was still slim enough and small enough to fit inside the locker.

Caleb slammed the door of the locker shut, plunging Jim into almost-total darkness. The only light that filtered in came from the slots cut into the metal door of the locker. As he whimpered and begged through the gag to be let out, he heard the rattle of a lock being fastened on the locker door.

Since it was a relatively tight fit, Jim could only weakly bump against the door. He called out for help, but it was difficult with the gag. A few moments later, he heard the three bullies laughing as they made their way out of the locker room.

While it took some time, the panic Jim was feeling eventually subsided. The musky, masculine scent of the jockstraps all bunched up at his feet filled him with a strange heat. The more of it he breathed in, the more intoxicating he found the odor.

Before long, Jim’s entire body was flushed with arousal. His cock was hard, straining in the air. He was so fucking horny, but powerless to do anything about it. He was leaking, pre-cum dripping onto the jocks beneath him, making the scent even stronger. The only thing he could do was helplessly hump the air.

The heat didn’t lessen one bit. Jim lost track of time, a fog descending upon his mind, filling his thoughts with fuzzy static. It was hard to think past how hard his cock was, how badly he wanted to be fucked. At some point in the blur of events that was his stranding in the locker, Jim started sucking on the jockstrap taped into his mouth.

Trapped in the darkness, getting hornier and more frustrated by the minute, Jim felt like he was adrift in time. The only way he realized something had changed was when he heard voices approaching. "Hey, look, someone left a bag," said a husky voice from beyond the dark walls of Jim’s world.

A small part of Jim, that wasn’t entirely addled by his lust, desperately bumped against the door. "Someone’s here," said another voice, followed by the sounds of sniffing. "In the hot box."

The smooth, sexy voice of Richard cut through the air, rousing Jim from his stupor. "Stand aside, boys. I know who it is," said Richard. There was a quiet thump against the locker door, soon followed by the squeal of metal being torn apart. Jim squinted in the light as he fell forward into thick, warm arms.

"Poor thing. You must have been cooking inside there for hours," said Richard. Jim could only moan and writhe in the big guy’s arms as something sharp cut away the tape binding his wrists and ankles together.

"This might hurt, but you’ll be brave for me, won’t you, pup?" said Richard, as he grabbed one corner of the tape holding Jim’s mouth shut. "Sorry," said Richard. In one swift move, he tore the strips of tape away from Jim’s face. It stung like a bitch, but Jim’s scream was muffled by the jockstrap in his mouth.

As Richard slowly pulled the spit-soaked jockstrap out of Jim’s mouth, Jim realized that the men standing around him were each just as masculine and handsome as Richard and every single one, including the owner, was naked and erect. "You’re so big…" Jim giggled, sophisticated language escaping him for the moment. "And hard!"

Wherever Jim’s inhibitions had gone, they were far away from the locker room at Club Wylde. He giggled as he reached for Richard’s erection and wrapped his fingers around it. "Mmm… Yummy…" he said, licking his lips as his mouth watered.

"Do you think it’s still reversible at this stage?" said one of the men around the two of them.

Richard shook his head. Jim shivered as he felt one of the big guy’s broad fingers wiggle its way up his ass crack. He moaned as the calloused pad brushed against his pucker, making it quiver with need. He felt something warm and wet leak out of him, just as Richard said, "I don’t think so. His body’s started producing slick."

Jim had no idea what the guys were talking about. Their words went in one ear and out the other. He was just so horny. He couldn’t help it as he worked his fingers up and down the thick shaft.

"Looks like we’ve got a rogue on our hands," said one of the other men. "That means we get to hunt. It’s been a while, and I’m honestly looking forward to it."

Richard shook his head as he rubbed his finger up and down Jim’s hole. Jim moaned. His hole was leaking, more and more as Richard played with him. He wanted to be filled. Needed to be filled. He was hoping that Richard would fuck him full like he was supposed to be.

"Of course. I have a pretty good idea of who the mastermind is," said Richard. "But that still leaves the question of what to do with this little one here. He’s on the cusp of heat. The hot box did quite a number on him. He’ll need to be mated before the night is out."

"You should have him, Richard," said one of the other men. Jim looked up at Richard’s grizzled face. He wished Richard would have him. Upside down. On all fours. Up against the wall. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about ways that Richard could have him right then and there. "It’s about time."

"Besides," said another one of the men. "It looks like he’s imprinted on you." There was a round of laughter from the men gathered around Jim and Richard. In the meantime, Jim managed to get his feet under him. He crawled forward into Richard’s lap, spreading his legs even wider as he pumped his fist up and down Richard’s cock.

The heat was getting worse. Jim felt like he was going to burn up from the inside if he didn’t get a cock inside him now. He liked the other guys. They all looked attractive and had very nice cocks that he didn’t think he would mind playing with but Richard was the only one who managed to get Jim’s blood racing. "Please… Richard," Jim moaned, bucking his ass onto Richard’s hand, hoping that a finger would slip inside of him. "Please…"

"Alright, fine," said Richard, reaching down to stroke the side of Jim’s face with his other hand. "I suppose I’ve grieved long enough. I won’t complain. You caught my eye the moment you came in. I only regret that this isn’t happening under better circumstances."

"Yeah, senior’s finally getting with someone after thirty years!" cheered one of the younger guys. Another round of laughter rippled through the group as Richard shook his head. "Are you gonna be possessive, old man, or are you going to let the rest of us have a go at him when you’re done?"

Richard pulled Jim onto his knees, leaned in, and said, "What do you think, pup? Do you want to play with all those other bones?"

Jim looked around. He licked his lips. "I wouldn’t mind," he said, giggling breathlessly. He looked at Richard, into those golden eyes. "But I need yours first."

"That’s right, pup," said Richard. "Fuck. If only you knew the things you’re doing to me right now. Anyway, you seem just about ready. Let’s get you in position. This will be easiest if we satisfy your heat as quickly as possible."

Jim didn’t fight when Richard picked him up off the floor and draped him over the bench down the middle of the locker alcove. He spread his legs as he felt Richard’s hands clap onto his ass cheeks and moaned as Richard’s thumbs pulled his cheeks apart. He gasped and moaned when Richard licked a hot, wet stripe up his ass crack.

Jim’s hole quivered and pulsed as Richard’s tongue swirled around it. It felt so good, and the sensation of Richard’s hot breath ghosting over his crack sent shivers up his spine. Jim was all but helpless in the face of the pleasure that Richard was kindling inside of him. He could feel his insides fluttering and squeezing as globs of slick leaked out of him to be lapped up by Richard.

Richard’s tongue swirled in tighter and tighter circles around Jim’s hole as the other men watched. Jim could only moan and clench his fingers around the sides of the bench as the tip of Richard’s tongue flicked at his pucker, teasing it open.

More and more slick poured out of Jim. There was so much that the insides of his thighs were soaked. He didn’t think he could handle the teasing any longer, but thankfully he didn’t have to.

Jim’s back arched, lifting his head off the bed as Richard’s tongue wriggled into him. He whimpered, his toes curling as Richard tongue-fucked his hole, stabbing his tongue repeatedly in and out of Jim’s twitching, quivering, leaking hole. It felt good. So good. It was the only thing that Jim could think about.

"This is one of yours, isn’t it, Rich?" said one of the men. Jim groaned with disappointment as Richard’s tongue stopped. The lack of stimulation wasn’t long, just a few seconds in total, but to Jim it felt like an eternity. "Great," said the same voice. "Let’s speed this process up a bit."

The next thing Jim knew, a used jockstrap was being pulled over his head. The pouch hung over his face, filling his nose with Richard’s familiar, deeply-masculine musk. The straps were draped over the back of his head, keeping the whole thing loosely in place.

Richard pulled away from Jim’s ass. He rubbed his thumb up and down over the twitching pucker. With just the slightest bit of pressure, Jim felt his hole opening up to swallow Richard’s thumb. He wanted more. Needed more.

The thumb was replaced with two fingers, scissoring opened and closed to stretch Jim’s hole. It didn’t take long for two to become three, and then four. Jim could only moan. It felt so good. His hole felt so soft, so pliant. So many fingers filled him up more than he had ever been filled before but it still wasn’t enough.

A quiet groan escaped Jim as Richard pulled his fingers out. He bucked his hips into the air, desperate for more. His prayer was answered. He felt something large and blunt pressing at his hole, getting soaked in the juices that were leaking out of him.

Richard’s cock slipped into Jim with ease. It was huge. However stretched his hole had been, Richard’s cock still forced him open to his limit. It burned a little, but it still felt so good. Jim felt absolutely stuffed to the brim, and it was great.

After what felt like an eternity as Richard slipped into Jim inch by inch, Jim finally felt Richard’s hips come to a rest against his. He took a deep breath, his lungs filling with Richard’s scent. He moaned. It felt so good, so right.

Once Jim was used to Richard’s endowment, Richard fucked him hard. It was a rut, primal and savage, and exactly what Jim needed. Richard’s cock pummelled his hole mercilessly, slamming him into the bench again and again and again as Richard pulled almost all the way out and then snapped his hips forward to bury his whole cock in one motion.

All around the two of them, the other men were jerking their cocks. Moans and grunts filled the room, along with the smell of sweat and sex and musk. Jim’s head was swimming. It was hard to think. Impossible. The only thing he knew for certain was how much he wanted Richard to cum inside of him.

In and out. In and out. Harder and faster with every thrust. The bench shook with the force of Richard’s thrusts and though bolted to the floor, it began to rock. Metal squealed and concrete cracked until, with one particularly forceful thrust, Jim was shoved forward hard enough to dislodge the bench from its place.

A round of cheers went up among the men watching the scene from the sidelines, and Richard didn’t miss a single beat. Grabbing onto Jim’s hips, Richard pulled Jim onto his cock at the same time as he thrust. It sent Richard’s cock even deeper into Jim than before, and Jim’s cock could only weakly dribble cum onto the floor as a result.

As Jim felt a strange tension build up inside of him, Richard’s thrusts became more erratic and less rhythmic. Richard licked the curve of Jim’s neck, sending a chill down Jim’s spine. Heat flooded Jim as he felt Richard’s teeth graze his sensitive skin, pooling in his stomach and his ass.

A loud, rough bellow erupted from Richard’s throat as he pulled Jim onto his cock one last time. The first blast of cum sent a cascade of pleasure through Jim. It was hot inside of him, almost scalding, but it felt amazing.

Spurt after spurt after spurt of cum flooded Jim’s guts. He moaned, his hole clamping around the base of Richard’s cock as the volume of slick flowing out of him increased threefold in volume, squirting past Richard’s cock.

A series of full-body orgasms crashed into Jim as Richard’s teeth dug into his shoulder. His hole fluttered and quivered and spasmed as something large and fleshy inflated inside of him, tying him to Richard as more and more cum filled him. "You’re mine now," growled Richard.

With one hand, Richard pulled Jim up. His chest was flush against Jim’s back as he flicked his thumb at one of Jim’s nipples. With a grin, Richard declared, "Have at him, boys." All at once, the cocks that were being jerked around the room were pointed at Jim’s face.

A heartbeat later, Jim’s face was being soaked with cum. It smelled so good and tasted so good. All Jim could do was moan.

Jim gradually regained his clarity over the next few days. He understood that something magical had happened to him, and that he wasn’t quite human anymore. He didn’t particularly care. He felt good. Confident. Sure of himself for the first time in a while.

It didn’t take long before Jim moved in with Richard. He understood the bond between the two of them, now. Since Richard had fucked him, knotted him, and marked him during his heat, Jim was, for all intents and purposes, Richard’s mate. It wasn’t exactly where he’d imagined his life would go, but he wasn’t about to complain.

Jim still had a lot to learn about life as an urban werewolf, but he knew that Richard would be with him every step of the way. For his part in what had happened to Jim, Pablo got demoted by his pack from beta to pack bitch. Lyle was snatched up by a particularly feisty young Alpha who wanted an omega to butt heads with.

Caleb, on the other hand, was personally hunted by Jim with the assistance of his mate. To make things even, Richard stuffed Caleb in the hot box. Caleb was now a member of Richard’s pack, though he was the lowest in the hierarchy. Even so, Caleb seemed very happy in his new position, working the locker rooms as a cumdump for the werewolves that worked out during the evenings at Club Wylde.

Despite all the fuss, Jim was satisfied with the way that things had turned out.

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