The Perfect Life for Davey

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The following is a tale of horrific abuse of a poor, hapless innocent who in no way deserves it. It is written only for people who enjoy such tales. Call this a spoiler, or call it fair warning, but my stories NEVER contain revenge or table-turning. This one is no exception. Enjoy!

*****

Well. Here I am, I thought. This is the best Sunday afternoon ever. I am ready to start my adult life. 18 years old, a freshman at Trentstown University, my parents have just left for the drive back to my hometown of Bellewood. I'm signed up for my classes, which start tomorrow. I have my books. I've arranged my desk just the way I want it. The room has a private bathroom attached, which I didn't expect. But I was quite relieved to know I wouldn't have to use common showers in college. My toiletries, towels, and washrags are all placed in the bathroom where I want them.

My roommate, who I have yet to meet, has taken the top bunk, which is fine. There's a futon couch in the room, which doesn't match the other furniture, so it must be his. There's a flat-screen TV on top of a dresser. The TV must be his as well. He left his dirty socks and underwear all over the room, and towels on the floor in the bathroom, but I've gathered those up and put them in a pile on his unmade bed. I also threw away food wrappers he left around, and empty soda bottles. Maybe now, since I'm here, he will try to keep the place straightened up.

I didn't know where my roommate was, or when he would show up, but I thought I'd take advantage of the quiet to take a look at my books for my courses. Maybe I could read ahead a little, and be prepared for whatever my professors might discuss tomorrow. My desk was situated back-to-back with my roommate's. Each had backs, with shelves, so if you were both sitting at them, you couldn't see each other. My chair was in the corner of the room; behind me was a wall; to my right, a window, and to my left, the bunk beds.

I read, and took a few notes in one of my notebooks. After about 45 minutes, someone walked through the door. He came around beside the bunkbeds, and, seeing me sitting at my desk, said, "Oh. Hey. You must be my roommate. I'm Tyler." He approached and extended his hand.

I shook it and said, "Hi. I'm David."

"You a freshman?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, me, too. Where you from?"

"Bellewood."

"Oh, that's cool. I'm from Keenesburg."

"Where's that?"

"It's way east of here. About 8 hours."

"Oh. I haven't been to that part of the state much."

"So, you're, what? 18?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, me, too. I'll be 19 next month."

"I guess you must have got here yesterday? Or before?"

"Yeah, I got here Friday. Wanted to check out the city a little before classes started. And the campus, too. They got a nice weight room here, right in this dorm. You work out?"

"No."

"Ha. Didn't think so. No offense, but you don't look like the type. So... you gay or somethin'?"

"What? No."

"Ha. Well, then, what are you doing sittin' in here? You should come out and walk around campus, man. Hot chicks everywhere. You're not gonna see any out that window, walking through our parking lot. 'Course, I got a girlfriend back home, but that doesn't mean I can't look, right?"

"Is your girlfriend still in high school?"

"Naw, man. She graduated. We both did, last year. She didn't wanna go to college, though. She waits tables back in Keenesburg."

"Is she 18 also?"

"Yeah. She turns 19 in March."

"So she's just living at home and waitressing?"

"Well, actually, she moved in with my mom."

"Really?"

"Yeah, haha. My mom loves her. Shelly - that's my girlfriend - she's got younger brothers and sisters, it's crowded at home, so she really wanted to get her own place, but my mom was like, 'Nooo, honey, don't do that, save your money. Move in here, then I won't be so lonely when Tyler leaves.'"

"Wow. I can't see my parents letting a girlfriend move in."

"Yeah, well, it's just my mom. My dad died when I was 5."

"Aw. I'm sorry."

"You got a girlfriend, by the way?"

"No."

"Well, that's why you should be outside! Get out there and meet some chicks here, man!"

"I'll meet 'em soon enough. Today I wanna get a jump on classes."

"Hahaha, what?? Is that what you're doin', studying??"

"Yeah."

"Dude, what for? There's nothin' to do yet. You're a strange one, Davey. Dude, check out my abs, man. They're gettin' tight!" With that, he lifted up his sweaty shirt to show me his stomach. I just nodded. "Those are lookin' good, huh?"

I shrugged. "I guess so."

"Yeah, man, I had a nice workout today." He stripped his shirt off and tossed it in the middle of the floor. "We got a nice basketball court right out there, too." He pointed in a direction that told me the court was on a certain side of the building. "Thinkin' of goin' out there for a pick-up game. What about basketball, you play?"

"No. Oh, by the way, um... I picked up clothes that were lying around..."

"Yeah, I see that."

"... and, um... well, do you have a laundry basket or something?"

"I got a bag."

"Well, you think, maybe... you could... you know... keep your clothes picked up? You know, and... put them in the bag, then?"

"Well, it's right here," he said, opening the closet door and rifling through a box. He pulled out the empty laundry bag, and tossed it in my direction. It landed on the floor beside my chair. "It hangs on the inside of the closet door, if you want." He then got a basketball out of the closet and started bouncing it.

"Um... well, no, I mean... could you... you know... keep your clothes... you know, off the floor so they're out of the way? Could you put them in the bag? And keep the bag in the closet?"

"Haha. Well, I'm not too good about that kinda stuff. My mom and girlfriend always pick up after me."

"Um... Oh kayyy... but... they're not here, so..."

"Ha, no, they're not. So I guess that'll be your job. Hey, I'm gonna head down to the court for some hoops, so I'll see ya later. Get outside, dude. Meet some girls." With that, he dribbled the basketball on our floor as he headed out the door.

Ugh. What the hell? He wants me to pick up after him because he's used to his mom and girlfriend doing it? In a huff, I picked up his laundry bag from the floor, and his sweaty shirt, and put them on his bed with the other clothes I'd picked up earlier. He can put them in the bag himself, or sleep in the bed with them, I don't care.

For the next hour or so, I continued studying, though now and then someone in the dorm played music loud, so it was hard to concentrate. When Tyler came back in from playing basketball, he laughed to see I was still sitting at my desk. "Damn, Davey. I never heard of anyone studying before school even starts. Look how sweaty I am, dude. That was a good game. I played on the skins team, obviously. Shit, I'm hot." He dropped the ball on the floor and let it roll under my bed, kicked both his shoes off in a random direction, then stripped his socks off. Coming near me, he held them atop the palm of his outstretched hand, and said, "See how sweaty those are? Do they stink? Can you smell 'em from there?"

"Uhhh... no, I can't... smell 'em... but I'm sure they are very sweaty."

"Oh, yeah." He brought them closer to my face, and said, "Smell 'em and see if they do stink. I bet they do."

I pulled my face away from them, grimacing, and saying, "Nooo. I don't wanna smell your socks. Yes, I'm sure they do stink, but-"

"Come on, smell 'em. Come onnnn. Just smell 'em. It's no big deal, c'mon."

"I don't WANT to smell your socks, Tyler, cut it out," I said, trying to push his hand away.

"Come onnnn. Just take a sniff. Come on."

"No! Cut it out! Smell your own socks if you wanna know if they stink."

"Davey, come on, quit bein' a pussy." He came right up beside me, more or less trapping me, because if I scooted the chair back, I'd just hit the wall. Otherwise, I was boxed in, between him and the window. He brought his hand up to my face, with the smelly socks in them. I tried to turn my head to the side, and when I did, he grabbed ahold of my hair with his free hand.

"Owwww. Tyler! Let go of my hair, owww."

"I will, just smell my socks. Come on."

I sniveled, and winced, reaching up with both hands toward the wrist attached to the hand holding my hair, but then realizing there was nothing I could do but pull that wrist and thereby hurt myself more. "Ugh. OK, OK, I'll smell your socks. Jesus." I quickly sniffed. "There. Now will you let go, please?"

"No, you really need to get a good whiff. Really breathe 'em in, dude. Savor the flavor."

I sniveled. "Tyler, come on," I whined. "I don't wanna-"

"Come on. Just relax. Just take a few deep breaths so you can really savor my socks, dude. That's the smell of basketball victory, haha. Our team kicked ass."

OK, fine, I thought. I relaxed, breathed in and out a few times, and grimaced at the odor of Tyler's socks, which were indeed quite strong. At the same moment, Tyler let go of my hair and also dropped the socks onto my desk, right on my notebook. Then he turned to face away from me, and looking at me over his shoulder, said, "Look how sweaty my butt got, dude. These shorts are soaked."

I didn't say anything, but picked up the socks and tossed them in the air to land on his bed in the top bunk. Tyler nodded his head toward the pile of clothes already there and said, "You gonna put those away before I go to bed? 'Cause if they're still there at bedtime, you know I'm just gonna shove 'em onto the floor."

"Ugh. Can't YOU put them in the bag, and put the bag in the closet?"

"No, dude, I told you. I don't do that."

I sighed. "Fine. I'll put them away."

"Sweet. We'll be good roommates, I can tell." At that point, he stripped off his shorts, and tossed them to the side, onto the floor. "How's my underwear look, dude? Are they totally wet? Or is there sweat just down the crack?"

Mildly disgusted, I made a face. Trying to focus on my book again, I said, "I don't know. I'm sure they're sweaty, though."

"Look at 'em, dude. Tell me. Check out my ass in these jockeys, too, man. It looks great, doesn't it?"

Check out my ass? What kind of thing is that to say to your roommate? I tried to ignore him.

"Davey. Look at my ass, dude. I love jockeys like this. They make my ass look hot. My girlfriend loves 'em, too. Lotta times I just walk around in only these. What kind of underwear you wear?"

I just shook my head a little, and rolled my eyes, continuing to look at my book.

"What kind, Davey? You wear jockeys, too? Boxers? Briefs?"

"Briefs," I said, curtly.

"Let's see 'em. Take your pants off."

"No!"

"Come on, let's see what you look like in those briefs."

"Ugh. Why do you wanna see what I look like in my underwear? Would you just... would you go over THERE, please, and ... let me ..."

"Dude, come on, take your pants off, it's no big deal."

"I don't WANT to take my pants off."

"Come onnn. Do it. Come on," he said, and suddenly grabbed my hair again, pulling upward so I'd get out of my chair.

"Tyler! Let go, what the hell!?!? Would you stop!? What is wrong with you??" I tried in vain to free my hair from his grasp, and soon he had me standing. Even if I could get his hand out of my hair, I couldn't really get past and around him, since he was standing between the desks and bunk beds, and behind me was only a wall.

"Haha, nothin's wrong, dude. I just wanna compare. I wanna see if you look as hot as I do in your underwear. Kinda doubt it, 'cause you're so skinny, but..."

"Well, I DON'T-"

"Here, dude, undo your belt." He reached toward my belt buckle with his free hand, which made me move both my hands there, to stop him from undoing it.

"Tyler ... *sigh* ... let go of my hair! Dude, I don't wanna take my pants off. Jesus Christ. Let go of me!"

"Come on. Dude, I've got ahold of your hair, you know you're gonna have to do it. Just drop 'em. Let's see."

"Tylerrrrr," I whined.

"Come on."

With a final defeated sigh, I unbuckled my belt. I unfastened my pants, and let them drop to my ankles. "There. OK? Satisfied? Here I am in my underwear." He still held me by the hair, and said, "Turn yourself around, let's see what your butt looks like in those briefs." I rolled my eyes, but turned around. I had little choice, really, because Tyler twisted his hand so that at least my head would HAVE to pivot.

"Hmm. They look kinda baggy, dude. Can't really see the shape of your butt. You should wear jockeys, and get tight ones like these, so girls can really see your ass, you know? 'Course you should get on the weight machines and tighten up your glutes, too. Here, step out of your pants, kick 'em all the way off."

"Dude, I don't want my pants all the way off. Would you stop this, please? Look, I don't... I don't lift weights and I don't care about ... my glutes, and... I don't care what I look like in my underwear, OK? And I certainly don't care what YOU look like in yours, so..."

"Aw, dude, you gotta care about that stuff. See, that's why you don't have a girlfriend. Here, step out of... lift your feet up, let's get those pants off."

"Why?? I don't want my pants off. Tyler! God dammit! Let gooooo of my HAIR!"

"Come onnnn! Quit bein' a little bitch. There you go, step out of those, that's good." Once I had stepped out of my pants, he let go of my hair, but he still stood in front of me, so I had nowhere to go. "Go ahead and take that shirt off, and your shoes and socks. Let's check you out here."

I stretched my hands out in front of me, toward Tyler, and tried to be stern as I said, "Look. Tyler. You asked me if *I* was gay, but I'm beginning to think maybe you are. This is kinda gay, don't you think?"

"No, man, this isn't gay."

"I don't care about... Look... why don't you just go ahead and do your thing... you know... lift your weights, play basketball... enjoy your jockey shorts, whatever... I don't care about that stuff, OK? I don't wanna stand in my room in my underwear with my roommate, and ... talk about... what our asses look like..."

"Come on, dude, it's no big deal. Take your shirt off."

He stayed put, standing in front of me and blocking off any escape. I sighed. "And what if I don't?"

"You will. You know you're gonna do it sooner or later. Just do it. I'll just grab you by the hair again."

Fine. With an annoyed sigh, I stripped my shirt off. Then I took off my shoes and socks, and stood in my underwear. "There. Now ... can I get dressed, please? And will you leave me alone?"

"Turn around again. Lemme see your butt. Hmm. Yeah. You need some jockeys, dude. Really small ones, so they're tight... until you start building up some muscle. Turn back around, lemme see the front. Hmmm. Can't even see your package, dude. You DO have a dick in there, right? Hahaha. Can't even see it. Look at mine. That's another thing I love about these. Check that out." He grabbed his "package" and manhandled it a bit, in self-admiration. When he removed his hand again, he said, "Looks great, doesn't it?"

"Yeah," I said, sarcastically, with my eyes unfocused and directed off in the distance, not looking at the "package", his face, or anything else. "Great. Now can we get dressed and-"

"Come get a really close look."

"What?"

"Get on your knees and come take a close look."

At that, I scoffed, and reached for my clothes to re-dress myself. Tyler sprang into action, saying, "Ah-ah! No, not time to get dressed yet," and grabbed my clothes first, flinging them around behind him.

"Tyler, COME ONNNN!" I whined.

"Haha. Dude, I don't know why you keep giving me such a hard time, you know you're gonna have to do what I say. Come on, I want you to get a good look at how great my stuff looks in these jockeys. I want you to get a really close look." At that, he grabbed my hair once again. I don't know how he managed to surprise me a THIRD time with that move, but he did. And he pushed me to my knees, while I whined and sniveled. Once I was down, he grabbed the hair atop my head with *both* hands, and planted himself standing right in front of my face. The front of his jockey shorts were just an inch in front of me, with his "package" just beyond. I turned my head, and started to push on his stomach to get him to move back. He responded by getting a better grip in my hair, grabbing large fistfuls of my hair, bringing tears to my eyes.

"OWWWW! Tyler, ow, ow, owwwww, stop!"

"Put your hands down," he said. "Just let your arms hang down. Don't move them. Keep 'em down."

"OK, OK! Owww, let go, please... owww... oh, god, that hurts, Tyler."

When I stopped resisting, he did ease up on my hair so it didn't hurt so much. Then he said, "OK, now, just look at my junk. Check it out. Looks good, huh?" I didn't say anything, so he tightened his grip and shook my head a little, by the hair. "Looks good, huh!?"

"Ow! Yes. Looks good. Looks great," I said, unconvincingly, I'm sure.

"Just look at it."

So I stared ... at his FREAKING jockey-clad "package", on my knees in front of him, feeling like an idiot.

"Can you smell it? Sometimes I put cologne there. You smell cologne?"

"I can smell a little, yeah."

"Ever put cologne on your junk, or on your underwear?"

"No."

"Didn't think so. You should try it. First you gotta work on your presentation, though, you know... you need the right kind of underwear."

I didn't say anything.

"Here, get up really close," he said, pulling me in a little closer so his dick was almost touching my nose. "Smell it."

I scoffed, and started to complain. "Tyler..."

"Just smell it. Doesn't stink, does it? Even after I've been workin' out today, and played basketball. Haven't showered since this morning, but I bet it still smells good, doesn't it?"

"Not to me," I said. Despite the cologne, it did smell pretty strong. Not like body odor, but very musky and sweaty.

"Chicks love it."

"Well, I don't know if you noticed, but I don't happen to be a 'chick'."

"Haha. Doesn't matter. You can still tell me if it smells good. God, I wish Shelly was here. I'd have her on her knees just like this, and she'd give me a nice post-game blow job. She loves goin' down on me after I've been workin' out, and I'm all sweaty. It's fuckin' hot, dude."

I sighed. "That's great. Now can I please get up, and get dressed?"

"Just stay still, dude. Check out how my dick looks in these when I get hard."

"What??"

"Just stay there. I'm gonna get hard thinkin' about Shelly."

"Oh... god... Tyler..."

"Just be cool, dude. Just stay still. Watch my dick, when it starts to get hard."

"Awww! I don't wanna-"

"Come on, dude, it's no big deal. Watch my dick."

I didn't want to watch his dick. Yet, I kept my eyes open, because I had no idea what he intended to do next. So I guess I wanted to be able to see any sudden move that might follow. Despite sensing that my eye muscles were trying to retract my eyeballs as far back into their sockets as possible, to increase the distance between them and his dick, I kept watching. His penis did start to engorge, right in front of me, rising and growing behind the fabric right in front of my nose. I heard him start to breathe more heavily, and felt his fingers moving slightly in my hair.

Once he was fully aroused, he started to push himself forward just a little, enough that his dick made brief contact with my nose. I winced, and he pulled back an inch or two. Then he brought himself forward again. He started to rock himself back and forth, gently, bringing his crotch right up and bumping it gently against my face. I complained, "Tyler... dude, come on."

"Just relax. Just be cool."

"Be cool? Tyler, this is not cool, come on, mannn..." I whined.

He paid no attention. He just kept bumping up against my face. Slowly he increased the rhythm, and also with each forward thrust began to pull my head into his crotch. In time he was banging up against me, essentially humping my face.