Tim Gets Into Trouble

Trigger warning: This story contains strong elements of domination, humiliation, and forced, non-consensual sexual intercourse. It also includes drug use. If such material upsets you, please skip this one. You've been warned.

Tim Evans was nervous.

It was three in the morning. The nineteen-year-old college sophomore was driving slowly down the main drag of the small university town where he lived. The meth he'd smoked earlier was still making him jittery; still, he had enough presence of mind to drive slowly to not draw attention to himself.

He was barely a block from his apartment.

His

studio apartment. The first place he'd lived other than his childhood home and the freshman dorm from the previous year. The first place he'd ever lived alone.

His sense of dread skyrocketed when he saw the blue and red lights in his rear view mirror. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" he said to himself. "Keep it together, Tim!"

The burly police officer strode up to his window. Tim nervously rolled it down.

"Evening, son. Do you know why I pulled you over just now?"

"N-n-n-n-no, sir," Tim stammered.

"You were driving unsteadily and too slowly. Have you had anything to drink, boy?"

"No, sir," Tim replied.

"Let me see your license and registration," the officer demanded.

Tim fumbled for his wallet and grabbed the registration certificate out of his glove compartment. The officer looked quickly at each piece of information.

"Get out of the car, Mr. Evans," the officer said in a commanding voice.

"Yes, officer..." Tim trailed off.

"Officer Wilson," the cop replied, sternly.

With a sinking feeling, Tim opened the door and got out of the car. He was shivering, even though it was not a particularly cold night. Tim was a slip of a boy, 5-7, 120 pounds, max. Tim was blonde, and barely looked like he had passed through puberty. He was wearing a thin t-shirt, loose straight-legged jeans, and a beat-up pair of Converse AllStars. It all accentuated how pathetically scrawny he was.

Wilson was quite the opposite. 6-2, barrel-chested, thick brown moustache and what looked like perpetual five-o-clock shadow. His forearms were as thick as Tim's thighs, covered with curly brown hair. Masculinity oozed from every pore, accentuated by his uniform.

Officer Wilson administered a field sobriety test, which Tim failed miserably. The Breathalyzer didn't register a high blood alcohol level, so the officer concluded that Tim was on a different mind-altering substance.

While this was happening, another police officer got out of the patrol car. He was black, 6-5, built like a linebacker, black goatee. Much like Wilson, he was a bull of a man. "Car's not stolen, Wilson," he said.

"Thank you, Officer Jackson," Wilson said. Turning back to Tim, he asked, "Did you smoke anything tonight, Mr. Evans?"

"A tiny bit of meth," Tim replied, figuring that he'd be better off coming clean.

Wilson's eyebrows raised. "Meth, huh? That's bad stuff!"

He ordered Tim to place his hands on the top of his own car while he patted down Tim's scrawny body. He found nothing. Tim thought the officer was a little aggressive when he patted the area round his genitals, but knew better than to say anything.

Jackson slapped handcuffs on Tim's wrists while Wilson undertook a search of Tim's car. Lo and behold, he found several packets of crystal meth under the passenger seat.

"Well, Tim, it looks like you're in for a heap of trouble," Wilson said, ominously "Not just a DUI, but possession of a controlled substance."

"I d-d-don't know h-h-how that got there," Tim stammered.

Wilson guffawed. "Yeah, right! I've never heard that one before!"

"You wouldn't survive a day in jail, pretty little thing like you!" Jackson replied, squeezing Tim's toothpick-thin bicep.

"No, sir, I don't want to go to jail," Tim said, trying not to cry.

"I suppose that we can make it a bit easier for you, young man, if you do a few things for Officer Jackson and me," Wilson said.

"Like what?" Tim asked, nervously.

"Oh, nothing much. Just entertain us, do a few favors..." Jackson said.

"You'll like it," Wilson added. "I'm pretty sure you'll be up for it." The two cops snickered.

"Well," Tim replied, "I'd rather not have a police record..."

"Good move," Wilson said, tucking the packets of meth into his shirt pocket. "Now get your skinny ass in the car."

Jackson pushed Tim into the back seat and got in next to him. Without warning Jackson pulled a black hood over Tim's head.

"You got a girlfriend, boy?" Wilson asked.

"No," Tim replied, glumly.

"So I guess you beat your meat a dozen times a day, eh?" Wilson said, laughing.

"Not that much," Tim said, wondering what this was about.

"Ever jack off with your friends?" Jackson asked.

"Ever suck a cock, Timmy?" Wilson asked from the front seat.

"No, sir, Tim replied, darkly, resenting the use of a nickname his brother had used to taunt him.

Wilson drove the rest of the way in silence. Jackson's arm was around Tim's shoulders, and the boy could smell the officer's strong body odor.

Wherever they went, it took about 25 minutes. Once the car came to a stop, Jackson got out of the car and dragged Tim out. The blindfold and handcuffs stayed on. He heard an overhead garage door opening. Wilson took one arm and Jackson the other and they dragged Tim inside. The door closed behind them with a determined thud.

The hood was ripped off his head, and, blinking uncomfortably under harsh overhead lighting, Tim found himself inside a nondescript two-car garage in typical midcentury tract home. The concrete floor was spotlessly clean, as if a car had never parked on it. Cabinets lined one entire wall of the garage, with doors closed so as to conceal the contents. A strange looking assembly stood in the corner, basically a cube-shaped rack made out of heavy galvanized pipe. Four chains were attached to the four upper corners, and what looked like a large black hammock hung from the chains. Tim guessed that it was something for working on a car engine, but he couldn't be sure.

Officer Wilson stood in front of Tim, towering over him. "Okay, Timmy, here's how it works. You're ours for as long as we say you are. You have no say in what happens to you. We don't care if something happens that you don't like. You can yell and scream and cry all you want, but there's nobody to hear you. There's only you, me, and Jackson in this house. These walls are well-insulated and the nearest house is three-quarters of a mile away. The couple who live there are old and hard-of-hearing."

Tim gulped. What had he gotten himself into? He began to wonder if jail might have been a better option.

Jackson stood behind Tim, reached around him, and unbuckled the boy's belt. His loose jeans crumpled to the floor. His thin jockey shorts didn't have much to conceal.

Wilson ran a finger under the waistband of Tim's shorts, peeking inside at his penis, which fear had caused to retract almost completely inside his body. What pubic hair

had was thin, blonde, and sparse. Wilson guffawed. "Hey, Jackson, I don't think Timmy has to shave his pubes, because he doesn't have any yet." Jackson laughed.

Jackson pulled Tim's shorts the rest of the way off. His massive arms lifted Tim up so that Wilson could remove his shoes and socks, leaving Tim naked from the waist down.

Jackson lowered Tim so he was back on his feet. Without warning, Wilson grabbed Tim's t-shirt and ripped it completely off him. Tim was now miserably naked and humiliated in front of the two big, masculine cops.

"Party time!" Wilson exclaimed, pulling one of the packets of meth out of his shirt pocket. Jackson produced a glass pipe and a lighter, and within moments the two cops were smoking the drug.

As the meth started to stimulate their brains, the two cops slowly began removing their uniforms. Off came their shoes. Then their belts, with their nightclubs, service revolvers, and, in Wilson's case, his handcuffs. Jackson's cuffs were still on Tim's wrists.

Wilson unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the floor. Even with a heavy white t-shirt under the uniform shirt, his thick body hair was readily apparent. The smell of cigarette smoke and sweat was overpowering.

Jackson followed suit. He had on a white A-shirt, which accentuated his chocolate brown skin. The bulging musculature of his chest, shoulders, and biceps was breathtaking. The body odor Tim had noticed in the car was even more intense without the shirt.

Wilson stripped off his undershirt, revealing that he was, in fact, covered front and back with curly brown hair. He grabbed Tim by the hair and forced the boy's face into his armpit. Tim choked and gagged at the smell of the big man's mix of fresh and stale sweat. Wilson responded by pushing his face further into the furry cavern.

The police strip-tease continued. Jackson shed his A-shirt and unbuttoned his uniform pants enough to let them slip to the floor. He wore patterned boxers, and the button on the fly was the only thing restraining his cock. His legs were as muscular as the rest of him. There was a small patch of hair between his massive pecs, and his dark brown nipples stood out like beacons.

Wilson roughly pulled Tim out of his armpit, unbuttoned his pants, and let them fall to the floor. He was wearing absurdly tight briefs, that did little to conceal his dense pubic hair and the massive bulge of his manhood. His legs were like hairy tree trunks, thick and bulging.

Jackson pushed Tim down to his knees, grabbed him by the ears, and forced his face into Wilson's crotch. "Lick Officer Wilson's dick," he commanded. Tim tried, unsuccessfully, to fit the bulge into his mouth.

Wilson slapped his face with the back of his hand. He lowered the front of his briefs, unleashing his large, circumcised cock. Tim had no reference, but it's a matter of record that Wilson's dick is seven-and-a-half inches long and six-and-a-quarter inches around, fully erect. Wilson grabbed his manhood, and while Jackson held Tim's head firmly in place, he shoved the massive member into young man's mouth, causing the boy to gag.

"Open up, Timmy," Wilson commanded, slapping Tim's face with his dick. "Don't tell me you haven't sucked cock before. You look like a little faggot!"

Tears streaming from his eyes, Tim opened his mouth as wide as he could, sticking his tongue out, ready to receive the officer's erect penis. Wilson aggressively tried to force his way into Tim's mouth. "Watch those teeth, boy, or else you won't have them any more!" Wilson yelled, slapping Tim again. The boy fell over onto the concrete floor, unable to break his fall since his wrists were still handcuffed.

Tim was now on the verge of bawling. The exasperated Wilson called him a lame-ass pussy and moved as if he was going to kick Tim, but Jackson intervened. "Not now, Wilson," he said. He helped Tim back up to his knees, positioning him right in front of his bulging underwear. Jackson lowered his boxer shorts, revealing his uncut, eight-inch, ebony dick in all of its erect glory. It was even thicker than Wilson's. Precum oozed from the tip. Jackson started slapping Tim's face with it, hard, and the precum sprayed all over the boy's face and hair.

Tim had never seen an uncircumcised penis before, but then he hadn't seen that many penises. Well, other than his brothers' when they were children and took baths together. He had certainly never seen an erection other than his own.

Jackson pushed Tim's forehead back, and, more gently than Wilson had, guided his dick into the boy's mouth. He made a few tentative thrusts, but the third one was too deep. Tim gagged again.

Jackson was patient. "Just relax," he told Tim. "Let your jaw go slack and resist the urge to use your tongue to fight back."

Tim did as instructed, and before long, Jackson's cock was at the back of Tim's throat. Though there were still a couple of inches of Jackson's dick to go, Tim could smell the musky aroma emanating from his thick pubic bush. It was a heady sensation. Tim found the odor nearly intoxicating.

Wilson was losing patience. He roughly pulled Tim to his feet, and stood back to look at the trembling, naked boy.

Wilson started laughing. "Look, he's got a boner!"

Tim did indeed have an erection. His cock was a decent size when fully engorged, unlike the tiny nub that had been visible earlier.

"Watch me blow his mind," Jackson said, kneeling. He opened his mouth, and fully engulfed Tim's cock in it. The boy gasped at the unexpected sensation. Jackson was clearly an experienced cocksucker, and within seconds, he had the head of Tim's cock inside his pulsing throat.

Wilson slowly stroked his dick while he watched his partner give the naive nineteen-year-old his first blow job. He knew how good Jackson was, having received his ministrations many times over the three years they had been partners.

The sensation was all too much for young Tim, and once he got a look at Wilson jacking himself, he cried out as his teenage cock exploded in Jackson's throat. Jackson took the load expertly, as Tim erupted five or six times. In all his years of masturbating, he'd never had a climax this intense.

Jackson swallowed Tim's load and rose to his feet.

"That definitely blew my mind," Tim said when he'd regained his breath.

Wilson slapped him again. "You are to address Officer Jackson and myself as Sir, and will only speak when you're given permission. Do you understand?"

"Y-y-y-yes S-s-s-sir, Officer Wilson, Sir."

"Good boy," Wilson said, sarcastically.

Jackson dragged a beat-up wooden chair over from the corner. He pushed the handcuffed boy into it, and tied his ankles to the legs of the chair.

"Have you ever seen real men have sex, Timmy?" Wilson asked with a sneer. "Ever watch your Daddy fucking your Mommy?"

"N-n-n-no Sir," Tim replied.

"Do you want to watch me fuck Jackson?" he asked, grabbing his cock and balls with both hands and shaking them threateningly.

"Um, I don't know, Sir. I guess so?" Tim said.

"In your dreams, you sick pervert," Wilson replied with a cruel laugh. Of course, he and Jackson fucked regularly, alternating between top and bottom. Just not in front of their playthings.

Jackson stood behind Tim as Wilson walked closer, turned around, and shoved his hair-covered buns in the boy's face.

"We've got a tasty treat for you, boy," Jackson said. Wilson leaned forward and with a hand on each cheek, spread his ass wide just inches from Tim's face. The smell was overpowering, but not in a disgusting way. Tim actually found it kind of arousing. Wilson's asshole was surrounded by hair, which trailed thickly through his taint before massing on his balls. Tim was almost hypnotized by Wilson's tight pucker.

The reverie lasted but a few seconds. Jackson grabbed Tim's head and shoved it smack dab into the middle of Wilson's ass. Tim's nose was right up against Wilson's puckered anus, and the not-at-all unpleasant smell was even more intense.

"Lick, boy; lick Wilson's sweaty asshole," Jackson commanded.

Tim tentatively stuck his tongue out and made contact with Wilson's tight hole. The sensation of the puckered skin on his tongue, the intense musky smell of Wilson's intimate parts, and the dimly metallic taste of his anus...it was overwhelming. As if someone flipped a switch, Tim started vigorously licking and probing Wilson's entire anal region.

Wilson started groaning loudly. "That's the way, Timmy! Lick my ass like a melting ice cream cone on a hot day. Stick your tongue in as far as it will go." Tim complied, licking as hard as he could and trying his best to probe deeply into Wilson's hole. He didn't get far, but Wilson's groans got louder and louder.

Jackson let Tim's head go, but that didn't stop the boy from soaking the other officer's asshole with his spit.

Eventually, Wilson had had enough of the rimming. He turned around, his monstrously thick cock was fully erect. Precum had been flowing out of his dick since Tim's tongue first touched his asshole.

Jackson leaned over and started licking his partner's precum off of the concrete floor. Tim was astonished at this behavior. There was the added bonus of Jackson fully exposing his asshole to Tim. It was a beautiful sight, tight, dark brown, nearly hairless, pulsing rhythmically as its owner slurped precum off the floor.

Young Tim was getting aroused again.

Based on what could be seen from the pebbled glass on the garage door, it was starting to get light outside.

Jackson had finished cleaning Wilson's precum off the floor. "We should get a bit of shut-eye," he said to Wilson.

"Put him in the hole," Wilson said, ominously.

Jackson untied Tim's ankles, raised him from the chair, and led him to a door in the corner of the garage. The door opened into a windowless room with a bare light bulb on the ceiling. There was a small, lumpy cot along one wall, and a wall-mounted toilet in the opposite corner. A small sink completed the "amenities."

"Get in there," Jackson ordered, removing the handcuffs and pushing him into the room.

"Yes, Sir," Tim replied meekly.

Without a word, Jackson slammed the door, locking it ominously. The overhead light abruptly went out. With nothing better to do in the pitch blackness, Tim stretched out on the lumpy cot and drifted off to a very restless sleep.

To be continued...