Pegging Bench Champion

Perhaps you've seen the drawing of girls watching boys working their way along a bench, each peg they are to take up their ass larger than the previous. This story explores what would happen if one of the boys rose to perform this challenge well.

*

Ryan straddled the bench in competing position, his lubricated hand absently stroking the wooden peg before him. He was doing what any good competitor does. He was mentally rehearsing what was to come. The background noise was a murmur of voices in the darkness of the seating area. People moved around him on the stage, other competitors with their coaches and some crew, but he tuned them out as he got his head ready for the race.

There was a reason he had risen to be the pegboard champion this year. He was the first guy he could find in the scant history of the competition that actually put effort into winning.

"Two minutes." The quiet voice in his earbud was his coach. His phone was sitting on top of his bag of gear, just behind his bench. She was in a call with him. The only things the rules permitted his coach to say to him were official announcements from the judges. He rose to spend a minute rechecking, again, the six pegs fully secure to the bench, rechecking that the lubrication he'd applied had full coverage. He'd discovered a benefit of this last-minute check, the lube was freshly wetted and his right hand had a thin coating of lube as well.

He allowed himself a glance at his competition. They were the usual gaggle of confused college boys, not entirely sure of what they were doing even now, at the end of the competition season. Ryan had the impression there were sororities who never brought a guy back to compete a second time. It appeared some sororities treated the whole thing with casual negligence.

This wasn't too surprising. After all, when the whole competition started two decades earlier it was just a way for college women to dominate and humiliate college men.

The sounds in the dark suggested there was a larger live audience than usual. He knew most of the audience, far more than fit in an auditorium, would watch the competition livestreamed online. There were more cameras than usual, sorority sisters majoring in Communication getting production experience as well as a great view.

Ryan was wearing his competition uniform, a lavender babydoll nightgown with matching g-string. He competed for Lavender Lambda. He didn't recognize the boys he was competing against, but he recognized their uniforms: Green Gamma, Blue Beta, Pink Pi. The Leopard Lambda at the furthest bench represented the same sorority, from a different university. They all wore feminine nightwear as one of the many ways the competing boys were to be humiliated. In fact, the rules required the boys try on their competition uniform in a retail store during regular hours before purchase.

Ryan had decided to embrace the challenges and start winning after his second competition, back in October. Simply showing up to compete paid all his college expenses and gave him a little spending money, but his contract also said he'd get a percentage of Lambda Lavender's share of the income from competing. Winning increased his income.

"Thirty seconds."

Ryan took his seat in the starting position. He switched on his performance smile, it wouldn't change until the competition was closed. He left hand reached back to pull the string aside from running up the cleft of his buttocks. Keeping his uniform out of the way was the only thing his left hand would do. He'd developed the muscle memory to give that detail little attention.

"Three, two one." With the starting tone, Ryan rose up, his right hand on the first peg just enough to be sure he would land on it quickly. Moving beyond competing on time alone, he also competed for the bonus points awarded for performance style. It was in the rules, but few of the boys in the competitions were prepared for such details. It didn't seem many of the boys in the competition even knew there were written rules. Settling on the first peg within seconds, the four inches long and 3/4 inches in diameter, embedded up his ass, he gave a "present," raising both feet off the ground and his right hand in the air before continuing. The second was five inches long and one in diameter, the third six inches and 1 1/4 in diameter. On each one he presented before moving forward.

The first three were easy ones, done in a several seconds each despite the time spent collecting style points and the expanding length and diameter. The fourth and the fifth, he'd learned, required a bit more care because of how far up his rectum they extended into him and the contact with his colon. For these his right hand brushed over the rounded tip as it reach down to guide it in, slipping on just a bit more lube. He moved his hips as he took the peg in, attending to the sensation as he was penetrated. These two pegs were taken slower, but still fast from the viewpoint of the audience. It had taken five weeks of practice every night in the last weeks of the fall semester to master that technique and develop the ability to do it quickly, for each of the two largest pegs. Presenting, feet off the floor, won style points because the competitor demonstrated full penetration by taking all their weight on the bench. The fifth and last peg was eight inches long and 1 3/4 inches in diameter. His feet up, he faced the audience with his right hand in the air.

A quick glance told him he'd finished far before the others, but the rules required him to hold his position until permitted by the judges to move. Of course, no clock was displayed to the competitors so he never knew his time until the competition was over. His performance smile shifted to a more genuine smile of victory. He smiled and held his pose, waiting.

"Fastest time. Style points awarded." His coach reported the judges decisions as they were made. He knew he was fastest, none of the others had finished, even yet.

He began to wonder why he wasn't being permitted to drop his feet. Taking a better look at the competition, he saw the Leopard Lambda was stuck, unable to go all the way down on the fourth peg. The poor guy had stopped partway down and was struggling instead of conceding his loss. This kept the closk running. Green and Blue had finished after Ryan, while Pink had stepped entirely off the bench before finishing. In the rulebook, this was called a balk.

"Lavender, please coach Leopard." Ryan had been directed to do this once before. His sole responsibility was to make sure the other competitor understood the rules about finishing or stopping. If he couldn't do the fourth peg, he was supposed to go back to the third peg, a concession.

Finally allowed to put his feet down, he rose carefully from the peg. He went to the Leopard, dropping to one knee beside him. "You understand the rules?"

The Leopard grunted his "uh-huh." He was sweating and his legs were starting to shake from the strain.

Ryan outlined his options anyway. "You can retreat to the third peg and end there, you can rise and walk away, or you can go the rest of the way down on the peg."

The Leopard strained to speak. "Want ... this ... this peg."

"Do you know how to do it?"

The poor guy shook his head. "Hurts."

"Try this. Rise up an inch. Move your butt in a little circle around the peg. Keeping moving in that circle as you go slowly down. You'll feel it when you're in the right spot to be penetrated further."

The Leopard groaned softly as he forced his legs to push back up. It didn't take him long for his face to relax as he settled fully on the bench.

"There you go. Practice that on your training bench." Ryan gave him a smile and returned to stand behind his assigned bench.

"Lavender, points for sportsmanship." His coach's voice was quiet as always, but he thought he heard a bit of excitement. Both Ryan and the Leopard had ear buds. He'd known the judges would hear what he'd said. Still, he hadn't done that little bit of coaching to win points, it was to help out a guy who clearly hadn't been given coaching or spent time preparing.

Of course, Ryan hadn't been given all that much coaching either. He was the one who'd hunted down the rules to read, so he'd know them himself. He'd found the training room, right beside his sleeping room, being used for storage. He had to show them the rule requiring the sorority to provide him with a training room. It was he who'd developed his own training plan, studied rectum anatomy and found techniques. In a competition his "coach" had a task to do, the coach was required to attend. He'd had no coaching between competitions. He took himself from not worth coaching to not needing coaching over several weeks. When he was still there after the first two competitions the girls in the sorority hadn't done much beside making sure competition dates were on his calendar, a calendar featuring hot firemen, tacked to the wall of the training room.

The loudspeakers in the auditorium came to life. "Final standings. Lambda Lavender, 117 points, winner, including time, style points and sportsmanship." The unemotional voice read off the other scores. Blue and Green were each in the 70's. Leopard had scored better, 45 points, than Pink. A balk was a major reduction, the Pink was given only 17 points. Ryan didn't react to the result he'd been expecting. He won, but it wasn't like he'd had any competition.

Competitors were required to change right on the stage. Ryan had long ago abandoned modesty. He took out his earbuds and stripped off his nightgown. He put on lavender boyshorts with a maxipad already in it. He'd learned he would leak, at least lube and possibly something else, for a few hours after a competition. The satin thong he'd worn on the drive to the competition stayed in his bag. His traveling uniform was a semi-sheer lavender blouse with an attached camisole the same color, and a short khaki pencil skirt.

Ryan was unscrewing his pegs and wiping them down with a towel when Leopard approach him.

"Thank you again."

Ryan extended his hand, they shook. "I'm happy to help." He held up a finger. "Just a sec." Reaching into his duffel, he pulled out a paper handout he'd given to Green and Blue as well. "Here's my e-mail address. Check in with me, this summer. I'm going to put up a web site with tips, rule interpretations and a discussion board, for us competitors. If you're going to stay with this bizarre competition."

"I'm planning on competing as long as I can. I can use the money."

Ryan encouraged him with a smile. "Then get good at it. Practice and come give me some competition." He nodded. "I'm like you, getting free college this way solves major problems for me. I'm determined to keep on riding."

As Ryan was stowing his wrapped pegs in his duffel, Caroline appeared, a big grin on her face. "Well done, Ryan! I'm proud of what we've accomplished today." Ryan enjoyed the irony but didn't react. If he'd met her before, he didn't remember. If the pattern continued, he might not see her again. Now that he was a success most of the sorority sisters wanted to be able to claim they'd coached, even if they'd done nothing.

Soon they were in the car for the two hour drive back to the Lavender sorority house. Justine was the driver again, the one constant for Ryan. She passed back a bag holding a turkey wrap with cheese and veggies and a bottle of water. Ryan consumed only clear liquids from noon Thursday until after competition and he was ready to eat something.

"Thank you Justine. I appreciate this very much." Justine was different. She greeted him if they happened to pass each other on campus and never let him pay her back for the meal she'd learned he always ordered after a competition.

As always, Ryan rode alone in the back seat, silent. He would have slouched more, but the skirt forced him to sit with better posture. When Caroline glanced back at him, she saw him staring at his phone. He seemed moody, which the coaches guide told her to expect after a competition. The guide had been compiled by the sorority sisters over the twenty years of these competitions. After all, he'd just completed a humiliating exercise, seen by who knows how many people.

But he wasn't moody, he was thinking. He was reviewing his performance by watching the replay on the web site. He watched the video to check for errors, giving himself the coaching he'd never gotten from his coach.

It was the dinner hour when Justine parked her car in the lot behind the sorority house. Early on a Saturday evening, the sorority was pretty quiet. The girls went up the steps to the back entrance. Ryan went in the kitchen door and from the landing turned to go down a half flight to his room in the basement. He wasn't allowed to go anywhere in the sorority house except the kitchen and some rooms in the basement, including his room and the training room beside it.

His first act was to get out of the travel uniform and hang it up, putting on just a bathrobe in its place. He felt the need to blow off steam, and knew how he'd do it. He went around the corner from his room, along the corridor toward the front of the house. The last door, furthest to the front of the house was painted pink. He went in the door before that, the gray door with a large caricature of a smiling pig. There was another guy in the room, already on the first bench. Ryan saw the other guy's clothes folded neatly on the chair in the tiny changing room. There were no girls on the other side.

Ryan bent down to make eye contact and give the other guy a smile. "I'll bet your name isn't Pete."

That got a laugh. "Noah. But my name in here is Pete the Pig for Pegging. Not that it's a profession you'll find on my resume. What are you in for?"

"I'm Ryan." He rubbed his fingers together. "Hell of a way to make some extra cash."

Noah shrugged. "If we stay quiet, the girls in the lounge out front might not figure out we're in here. I get paid to be here no matter what."

"More likely they're just drinking enough to have the courage to come play the game." Ryan hung his robe on a hook and got on the other bench. They were both on their hands and knees, feet sticking under a curtain into the next room, butts up against the curtain.

Ryan twisted the handle to raise the center of the bench up to support his abdomen, then rotated the chin rest into position to hold up his head.

Noah said, "now we wait."

Ryan's voice was quiet. "Waiting can be peaceful"

Fifteen or twenty minutes passed before the pink door opened and girls came into the room behind Ryan and Noah. "Oh good, two, I can show both of you," one said. There was a little time with the sounds of straps being pulled and Velcro peeled. Ryan could feel the curtain brushing his back as it was lifted just a little. He and the women were supposed to stay unknown to each other.

The first voice said, "We always lube ourselves and the pig." After a liquid sound a slippery finger was running up and down the cleft of Ryan's buttocks, then penetrating. He assumed Noah was getting the same treatment.

"Here I'll show you how it works. Step up here, put it here." Ryan felt the head of a dildo against his scrotum, too low. "You need to move him down, just turn this." Ryan felt his platform going down a little as the girl behind him changed his elevation, to minimize any inconvenience while pegging. The head of the dildo slowly moved upward until it was resting on the target. After he stopped moving, the dildo started to penetrate him.

"Like this?" A third girl's voice sounded like it was behind Noah.

"A little higher."

Ryan heard Noah grunt softly as the dildo was pushed in.

Soon both of the women were moving their hips to push their dildos in and out of the two men.

"Ooh, I'm feeling it!" The girl behind Noah was a bit more vocal.

Ryan felt his dildo moving with more energy as the girl began to experience all she could get from pegging. She grabbed his hips, thrusting in with more urgency. In just a few minutes, she was panting as she reached an orgasm.

Another hand covered the hand on his right hip. He heard a rather wet kiss. The girl who'd been showing them what to do said, "now you know the best way to have sex with boys. With girls, there are many more options."

"I almost wish we could have boys in chairs to lick us." All three of them giggled as the dildo slipped out of Ryan.

"One more thing, we always do this." Ryan felt the sharp slap of a hand on his butt. He'd been expecting it.

"Ooh! Love it!" Another hand slapped him in the same place.

Someone else came in. "Oh, full house."

"We'll be done in a second, take a seat."

"Yeah, I like to watch, too. Gets me in the mood." She giggled.

The girl pegging Noah kept going for a few more minutes. Ryan was left alone while the other girls sat on the chairs and watched. The girl who'd come in late started chatting with the others. "Have you heard the news? Lavender Larry just won the final tournament of the year, the sorority got a cool forty thousand just from today."

"Yeah, he's weird to stay at it, but he's sure good for our budget."

Ryan and Noah spent three hours on the benches. A handful of girls came in, each of the two boys got pegged a few times. Then their time was over.

As they were signing the time sheet to be paid, Noah realized Ryan hadn't come in wearing clothes. "Hey, you live here, in the house? Doesn't that make you Lavender Larry?"

Ryan nodded. "Apparently that's my stage name."

"Man, how do you do it, winning like that?"

"I decided to do it well. I'm paying for my college this way, all the way through. Beats having a student loan."

"The guys on campus say bad things about you, Ryan, but you're probably the toughest guy I'll ever meet."

Ryan gave him a smile and a nod. "Thanks."

Wednesday night Ryan was in the training room, on time for the weekly "coaching meeting" on his calendar. He hadn't seen anyone from the sorority come to the meeting since the fall. Spring final exams were coming up. It made no difference to him if he studied in one room or the other, they were both quiet. This time, though, two women came in. Pamela, the President of the sorority, just leaned against the open door frame.

It turned out he would see Caroline again, his most recent coach. She started talking as she sat on another chair. "We have to talk about your training over the summer. You live in Summerville, I live in Montgomery, so we won't be too far from each other over the summer. I'm going to visit you twice a week and supervise your training. I expect you to set up a training bench, we'll loan you a set of pegs to take home. I guess it'll look like I'm your girlfriend. In fact, I won't mind you taking me out for dinner after each training."

Ryan shook his head. Time to clear up some misunderstandings. "Your pegs were crap, old, overly worn and very stained. I wouldn't be caught dead using them, in fact they might kill me. I made my own set of pegs, from maple instead of oak. My competition pegs belong to me, not the sorority."

He paused, then decided to be brutally honest. "I don't see why you care what happens over the summer. You haven't cared for the past seven months of the school year. I've been here for the weekly coach meeting every week. The last time one of you came to see me was in October, after the third competition."

Pamela started to speak, but he cut her off. "I'll talk to you in a minute. At the moment I'm rejecting the coaching. Caroline, I don't know you, you don't know me. It appears you don't understand I did my own coaching to accomplish what I did this year. I can say with confidence I know the rules better than you. This sorority took care to put each competition on this calendar only a week in advance, but the entire schedule is on the web site. You told me in the car after last Saturday's championship it had been the championship, while I knew that in January. So, no. I decline your offer of coaching. I have not been impressed with the coaching I've received this school year."