The Pine Gulch Motel, Room Seven (Part 1)

Apologies for the silence over the last couple of weeks, things got rather hectic as I was trying to conceptualize and write this piece. It's going to be a bit of a long one, but I'm excited about it. Hope you all enjoy it! I'll have a new suggestion box up here soon as well, which might influence the direction this story goes as well...

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Finally, a bit of peace. Marcus looked around the small motel room and relished the quiet for a moment—or at least, the relative quiet. He could still hear the four college athletes he was driving home from a wrestling meet in the room next to his—room number seven, while he was in room number eight. It was still more quiet than six hours in the van had been. He hadn’t planned on stopping for the night at all, but thanks to some unexpected late Spring snow in the pass, they’d been forced to stop for the night here, at the Pine Gulch Motel. It wasn’t the nicest place, but it would do in a pinch. Hopefully they all wouldn’t have to be here more than a night. Most likely, the pass would be clear come morning, and they’d be on their way back to campus.

He dropped his bag down next to the dresser, and got out of the clothes he’d been driving in, eager to take a shower. He was in his mid thirties, and in solid, athletic shape, though in the eyes of the four athletes he was carting around, he might as well have been a geezer. Maybe in some ways, he was. He’d had to sit through hours of the boys comparing their conquests on campus—who had fucked who and how many times—and while he’d tried to get them onto more appropriate topics, somehow they had always found their way back to sex. Then again, there was another reason that Marcus was a bit put off by it—Marcus was gay.

Gay, and much of a sexual dynamo himself. He’d had plenty of sex of course, though not as often as the boys in his charge had claimed in the backseat, whether it was true, or just boasting. If anything, Marcus felt like he was a bit lacking, when it came to his own sex drive. His cock was on the smaller side of average, which wasn’t terrible on its own, but it also just didn’t perform particularly well, even under ideal conditions. He’d tried various pills and things, but nothing had ever really helped much—if anything, it was his own head getting in the way of his body, he supposed. He kept his sexuality under wraps at the college for the most part, especially when it came to the students. He didn’t want to be accused of anything, and the way the boys talked, he wasn’t quite sure it would be especially safe if he was out either.

He had his shower, and felt a bit better after that. It had been a long day, and it was going to be another long day tomorrow, and so he got undressed and climbed into bed. He was surprised that the noise had settled down next door—he’d imagined that the four boys would put up quite a racket all night long, but maybe they had all thought better of it, and gotten to bed themselves. Marcus turned off the light, and turned over on his side, but if anything, the silence was now a bit unnerving. Having always lived in the city himself, he was used to noise all the time. A motel like this out in the country though, didn’t have the sort of ambient noise, and he found it hard to fall asleep. After tossing and turning for most of an hour, he turned on the lamp next to the bed, and saw the TV remote on night stand. Figuring that might be enough to help him fall asleep, he turned the TV on, and was dismayed to find nothing but static on every channel.

Now even more annoyed and awake, he got up to investigate, only to discover that there was no cable box, just some old fashioned rabbit ears designed to pick up stuff that wasn’t even broadcast anymore. He was about to give up and just try to fall asleep again, when he saw a VCR stuck in a small shelf under the old TV, and beside it, a little collection of video tapes—four of them, in fact. The four tapes looked old, and none of them had a label on them that might identify what they would have on them. Knowing this motel, it was probably some old collection of B movies from the 80’s or 90’s. It was better than nothing, in any case. He picked up one of the unlabeled tapes, and popped it into the VCR. It took some fiddling with the old TV to find the right input, but finally an image popped up on the screen, a little fuzzy, but recognizable as an empty locker room.

He watched the screen for a few minutes, a bit confused. It didn’t seem like a movie, there weren’t any titles playing or anything like that, but it didn’t like like something halfway through a movie either. He tried hitting the eject button, but nothing happened at all. “Great, now it’s fucking broken,” he muttered to himself.

“C-Coach?”

He looked back up at the screen, and saw that some character had entered the camera’s frame of view. A young man wearing a wrestling singlet, and nothing else. He was looking around the empty locker room, stepping a bit tentatively, his back to the camera. Marcus sat back, curious now, and when the young man turned around, he gasped—he knew that young man. It was Billy, one of the wrestlers he’d been driving home! “Billy? Billy!” he shouted.

On the screen, the young man looked around at the sound of Marcus’s voice. “Coach!” he said, “Where are you! Something…something weird happened in the room we were in. The TV came on, all on it’s own, and…and it sucked all of us into it!”

“What?” Marcus said. It sounded ridiculous, and yet—and yet, there he was, right in front of him, trapped inside the TV.

“Where are you?” Billy said, “I can hear you, but I can’t see you!”

“You’re…you’re in the fucking TV, I don’t fucking know—“ Marcus said, looking around, wondering what he could possibly do to help the young man.

“There you are, Billy—eager for our after practice session like always, looks like?”

He looked up, and saw a new man had come on screen with Billy. He was dressed like a coach—only not your normal sort of coach, he supposed, with those tight shorts and low cut tank top on. He looked…well, he looked like a coach from some vintage gay porno. Beyond that, the man was massive and covered with fur from head to toe, and there was something about him that seemed almost wet and grimy, almost like, if Marcus got too close, he’d be able to smell the stranger’s sweaty body through the screen.

“Who—who are you?” Billy said, backing away from the stranger.

“Now now, Billy, you know you have to follow the script,” the man said, and something…happened, to Billy on the screen. His image flickered for a moment, like there’d been some strange interference in the signal, and when it cleared up, Billy was there, but something seemed…off about him.

“Hell yeah coach, you know I’m always excited for a little extra practice with you,” Billy said, walked over to the stranger, who pulled him into a deep kiss, one of the man’s massive hands groping the crotch of Billy’s singlet, the young man’s cock hardening visible through the sheer spandex.

“Billy—Billy!” Marcus shouted at the screen.

“Marcus, it’s alright, the young man is having a great time,” the man said, pulling away from their kiss, a trail of spittle running down Billy’s chin. “Isn’t that right, Billy?”

“Yeah coach, I love it.”

“You’re a pervy little wrestler, aren’t you? Love getting in there with guys, feeling their hard bodies against yours,” the coach said, groping Billy’s body, making the young man moan, “Just like how Marcus out there loves watching dirty young wrestlers like you get roughed up and fucked real hard by dirty, smelly men like me.”

That strange interference again, but this time, it covered the entire screen—and it wasn’t changing Billy—Marcus could feel the static and the waves pushing into his own mind, making him hornier than he’d ever been in his life. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and stroking his own hard cock, moaning a bit as the interference faded away, and the screen came back into focus, where Billy now had his face buried into his coach’s rank pit, grinding his crotch against the older man’s muscled, hairy body.

“Yeah, that’s it Marcus, you just keep stroking that cock. It’s a needy cock, isn’t it? A big, needy cock. Needs to be touched all the time, played with all the time. You’ve never given it enough attention, you know. Well, you’ll have lots of time to catch up, won’t you?”

“No,” Marcus said, trying to pull his hand away, but he couldn’t. Looking down, there was another flash of interference—but this time, in the real world, obscuring his smallish cock for a moment, and when it cleared, it was…bigger. Bigger, and harder, and so much more sensitive than it had been before.

“Keep your eyes here on the screen, Marcus. I know you don’t want to miss a second of this young stud perving out over my filthy body.”

“Fuck,” Marcus said, eyes up and glued to the screen.

“You wanted him, didn’t you?” the coach said. “Be honest. You want all of them.”

“Fuck, I do, I always fucking did.”

“But you never took them. You could have had at least one—they were always horny enough. None of them had ever had as much sex as they claimed. They would have been more than willing, with the right sort of confidence. But you don’t have that. No—I think you just like to watch, Marcus. Nothing but a dirty, greasy, stinking porn addict, alone in a motel room, stroking your cock to filthy porn.”

More interference this time, enough that it obscured his vision. It cleared, and he still looked the same, mostly. Still in his thirties, still with his athletic build, but he stank. He stank like sweat, and cum, and grease. His hair was long and lank, his face covered in scruff like he hadn’t bothered to shave in a week, and fuck, he could smell himself. He could smell the funk of sex and masturbation rolling off him, making him want to gag.

“That’s it, you dirty fuckin’ bator pig—go on, sniff those pits of yours, I know you get off on your own stink, almost as much as this jock gets off on mine.”

The smell that had gagged him moments before suddenly enticed him. Marcus put up one arm, and huffed his own scent, one eye still glued to the screen, unable to look away, his other hand stroking his hard, eager cock nice and slow. The camera zoomed in on Billy now, and Marcus could see the look of fear and confusion in the young man’s eyes, as he helplessly licked the older man’s hairy, sweaty armpit. Then it panned back out, the coach grinning through the screen, looking right into Marcus’s eye. “There—now that we have the appropriate audience, why don’t we get on to the more exciting part of the show, eh?”