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Benji never ran into any problems being trans until his first day at gym class. His parents have always been supportive, his friends helped him pick out a binder and workshop a new name, and a nonbinary substitute teacher even encouraged him to talk to the administration about it. Benji came into the fall semester of 2015 with a deep well of confidence. Sure, the nagging thoughts would pick at him. Your tits are too fat, your hips are too big, your jaw is too soft. Ross, an older trans boy, had called him a “transtrender” on Instagram. But Benji has gotten good at pushing that aside. Ross is a transmedicalist piece of shit, and there’s no one who’s going to tell Benji how he can or can’t dress.
Benji arrives at school flamboyantly. Rainbow knee-high socks under bright red converse sneakers. He’s wearing black jean-shorts, a pink tank top over his rainbow binder, and a vest covered in various pins and patches. Kandi bracelets, star-shaped earrings, and variously jangly accessories cover his arms. His makeup matches with modern fashion, with thick eyebrows, pink blush, and lots of assorted glitters. Even his hair is rainbow, a dazzling array of colors with a black undercut backing it up. It’s garish, Benji knew that, but it also makes a statement — I’m here, I’m queer, and everyone better respect it.
Benji and his friends, Aria and Becca, walk together to gym. It’s always been one of his favorite moments of the school day, a chance to talk about their current interests and catch up in the last period before class is out for the day. He’s chattering away to Aria about how Phil is obviously the bottom and Dan is obviously the top when a cold hand stops him in his tracks.
“Where do you think you’re going, young man?”
Benji looks up at the cold expression of the gym teacher, Mr. Ameron. He glances around in confusion. “The...locker room? I need to change for class.”
Mr. Ameron stares down at him. “I got the memo from the administration. Seems you’re to be treated as a boy. Congratulations on figuring yourself out.”
“Thanks!” Benji has never been one to spot sarcasm.
With a slight sneer, the gym teacher continues. “That means, as a boy, you’re not allowed in the girl’s locker room. You’ll have to go change with the other boys on the other side of the gym.”
Benji pales. The sudden disruption to his rhythm makes his head spin. He glances over at the locker room at the far end of the gym. It always seemed like a distant and wretched place, full of axe body spray and unfamiliar boys. He takes a deep breath.
“Oh, of course. Thanks Mr. Ameron. For the reminder.”
Aria gives Benji’s hand a squeeze, and Becca shrugs pityingly. Benji sets out across the gymnasium with his backpack to go get changed. The gym teacher’s eyes follow him as he walks. There’s something about how Mr. Ameron stares at him, some deep-set combination of hatred and desire, that fills Benji with a deep and resounding dread.
The smell of the locker room confronts Benji long before he reaches the door. Layers upon layers of sweat, the reek of excess testosterone mixed with the miasma of body spray, clog Benji’s nose and immediately give him a headache. The locker room is a strange mirror to the girls’ own arrangement. The pattern is the same, but the placement of the walls and showers is flipped. The smell combined with the architecture make Benji want to throw up. And then he notices the people.
A dozen boys, maybe more, most of them either in his grade or the grade above, stand around the locker room in various states of undress. Justin, a broad-shouldered brute of a boy with a round hairy belly, sprays deodorant into his thick pits. Kyle and Reese fuck around with a towel, hitting each other with careless cruelty, their pimpled bodies stinging red when it strikes their backs. Mikey’s cock is out, dangling between his legs while he changes into a jockstrap. There are other boys too, changing into gym clothes or spraying themselves down or just standing around chatting. They all go quiet when Benji walks in. He nervously shuffles over to an unclaimed locker, puts his backpack in, and clips his combination lock onto it. A dozen sets of silent eyes watch him while he pulls his gym shorts, sports bra, t-shirt, and sneakers out of his bag.
Benji’s heart is pounding. There’s no way he can get changed in front of all these men. It’s one thing to change in front of the girls, but the thought of taking off his shorts or (god forbid) his binder in front of these pigs makes Benji retch in his mouth. He pulls as many accessories off of himself as he possibly can before slipping into one of the shower stalls to change. It’s a big open space with a tiled floor and walls, and no curtain or door protecting him from the rest of the locker room. But it’ll do for now. Benji starts changing, quickly pulling his shorts down and getting out of his rainbow socks. His bracelets get tangled in his vest pins and it takes him a while to actually get out of his clothes. Benji hasn’t even gotten his binder off when he realizes someone is watching him.
“I knew you were back here.”
Benji clutches his clothes close to his chest. It’s Ross, leaning on the shower’s doorframe. He’s already dressed in a loose-fitting tank top (showing off his fresh top surgery scars) and black gym shorts. He’s everything Benji isn’t — hairy legs and arms, tough skin, skinny, short blond hair, with a sharp jawline. If it wasn’t for the scars he’d pass as a cis boy, albeit maybe a freshman or sophomore. Benji scowls.
“What do you want, Ross?”
“Reese told me Mr. A is making you get dressed with the rest of the men. When I couldn’t find you, I figured you’d be hiding somewhere back here.”
Benji pushes himself against the cool tile of the shower. He fidgets with his bracelets. “So what? I’m shy.”
“Didn’t seem very shy earlier in your stupid faggot getup.”
“Why do you give a shit?” Heat rises up through Benji’s body, and his head pulses. Who the fuck does he think he is…
“Because it affects me too, dumbass. Because I’ve been out for three years and everyone here respects me. Because you, here, pretending to be a real male, makes me look like you.”
Benji glowers. “Fuck off, truscum. I’m here, I’m queer, get over it.”
“Really? Jesus Christ you sound like a tumblr post," Ross rolls his eyes. “Fine. But here’s a piece of advice: if you act like a pussy, they’ll treat you like one.”
Benji scrambles to get dressed before he’s marked tardy for gym. He’s too rattled by Ross’s appearance to bother changing out of his binder. He rushes out into the gymnasium and joins in the morning exercises. Aria gives him a supportive wave. Benji waves back. “Another One Bites The Dust” plays over Mr. Ameron’s tinny speaker. Benji realizes, a bit too late, that he’s gained a bit of weight since he last wore these gym shorts, and when he bends down his ass strains against the fabric. This, combined with the constant choking pressure from his binder, makes Benji feel like he’s suffocating. He can’t keep up with the rest of the class, his breath and his chest pulling him down. He can feel his cute makeup pooling in thick beads of sweat down his face. The boys are snickering with each other, but Benji can’t be bothered to pay attention to what they’re saying. He can barely breathe as he runs around and around the miserable fetid gymnasium.
Gym class drags on for an eternity. The miserable AC clanging away in the corner of the massive empty room does nothing. At one point, Benji steps out to a water fountain to grab a drink, bending over to feel the cool water against his face. He struggles to breathe, his body straining against its tight confines. Every part of him wishes he hadn’t worn his binder during gym class, but there’s no time to go back in and change. His hands leave noticeable sweat stains on the buttons when he pulls away from the fountain.
When Benji turns around, he realizes Mikey was watching him drink. There’s a visible tent in his gym shorts. Benji wrinkles his nose. What a fucking pig, he thinks to himself, before getting back into the crowd of students running and running and running.
As gym class finally ends, Benji pulls his battered body back into the boy’s locker room. The smell is no less bearable the second time. The other boys are already in there, stripping down and lining up to take a shower. Benji feels disgusting. His binder is drenched in sweat and his thighs are red from rubbing against each other for the past hour. He strips off his shirt and shorts as fast as he can before opening up his locker and…where are my clothes?!
A snicker echoes from the crowd behind him. Benji turns around and sees Justin sitting behind him, staring him down. “Hey Benji. Congrats on the whole trans thing I guess.”
“Umm. Thanks.” Benji realizes all the boys in the locker room are staring at him. Benji struggles to keep his voice flat while talking. His headache never went away, it just keeps slamming against him. He wants to sit down. “Where are my clothes?”
Another snicker from the crowd. “I dunno. You must’ve left them somewhere.” Justin’s voice is flat and cruel, and Benji always found it impossible to tell his sincerity apart from his mockery.
“Cool. Well. I guess I should go look around then.”
“Nah, don’t worry.” Reese pipes up. “They’re in the shower. You better hurry though ‘cuz Mikey really needs to hose down.”
Mikey grunts.
Benji is too tired to realize he’s being set up. He pushes his way through the various half-naked boys standing around him and walks over to the showers. Kyle’s long lanky body juts out in his path.
“Hey now, you can’t just go into the showers like that. Your clothes are gonna get all wet.”
The boys look around, giggling to each other. Benji’s face flushes bright red. Oh, so this is their plan. Those perverts! He shakes his head and tries to push past Kyle, but the taller boy blocks his way and grabs his shoulders. Another boy (Benji can’t see who) grabs at Benji’s underwear. He can feel his panties stretch against their grasp, and he moans in discomfort from the sudden pressure. His focus broken for a moment, Kyle grabs his rainbow hair and pulls his head back.
“C’mon now, why are you so shy? I thought you were a real boy now.”
Benji shudders in discomfort and tries to shake his head, but the pain in his hair and his headache freezes him up. He feels a rip in the elastic of his panties, and he yelps. Another boy (Justin, probably, judging by the roughness of his hands) grabs hold of Benji’s binder. It’s obvious he doesn’t know how to get it off. Justin pulls the binder up Benji’s sides and it rolls up around him, exposing his fat tits and covering his ability to see what’s going on. Benji’s panties are ripped away, his ass and cunt suddenly open to the entire locker room.
“Help! Stop it! Freaks!” Benji screams.
“Shut it, sissy.” Justin finally yanks the binder off the rest of the way, giving the naked Benji a momentary chance to try and escape. He shoves past Kyle and makes it three steps into the locker room before Mikey’s fist hits him in the gut. He doubles over in pain, and Justin uses it as a chance to grab the crumpled Benji and throw him into the shower room. Benji lands against the tiles, slamming his foot into the back wall, and has just a moment to realize his clothes really are in here before a bout of cold water slaps him in the face.
Reese pulls the shower down from its mounting spot and uses it like a hose on Benji’s curled up body. It’s freezing cold and absolutely miserable. He looks up at the boys silently filing into the shower. Many of them are clearly hard in their gym shorts, and at least one has his hand down his pants. Benji can’t tell if he’s crying or not, his tears and sweat mixing together in the ice cold water.
“Let’s get that makeup off you. You’re supposed to be a guy, not a tranny!” Kyle jeers.
Benji tries to stand up, but his legs are wobbly and he collapses back down again. The boys all look around at each other, then down at the twitching faggot on the ground in front of them. Benji’s tits press against the tiles, fat and smooth like udders. His hairy cunt is obscured by his thick thighs pressed together to try and get a modicum of privacy. Various colors of hair dye run down his face and along his heaving back.
All the boys know what they want. Their cocks twitch in their pants. Benji whimpers in the shower. There’s a threshold here that they don’t know if they can cross. Something that goes beyond just schoolyard hazing and into something more. Mikey’s cock twitches. Reese strokes the metal of the shower head. Kyle adjusts his shorts, his bony hips exposed to the cold air. They all know what they want, but to take the next step…
“Fuck this.” Justin steps forward, pulling his cock out from his jockstrap and stroking it in one hairy hand. He strides over to Benji and pulls his head up to look at him, shoving his cock in the crying boy’s face. Benji shakes his head to try and make it stop, and Justin yanks him backwards by his hair, causing his legs to splay out and expose his cunt. Reese takes a step forward and aims the cold shower at his pussy, causing Benji to writhe in discomfort.
“Please stop, fuck, please, augh! Stop it!”
“Suck it.” Justin shoves his cock in Benji’s face. Benji looks up pathetically at Reese.
“Y-yeah, that’s right. Suck our cocks and we’ll let you go.”
Benji whimpers and looks over at Justin’s hairy cock. It’s not that big, but Benji doesn’t have much of a frame of reference yet. It feels enormous in the moment, and Benji reluctantly opens his mouth and awkwardly slides it in. Justin pushes him down on his cock. This new sensation of cock fills Benji’s mouth, clouding his mind with the smell of groin sweat. Benji can hardly breathe, even though Justin doesn’t go that deep, and bobs his head obediently along Justin’s shaft, trying to avoid doing anything that might piss the other boy off.
Justin finishes quickly, pumping cum down Benji’s throat. He barely has the time to catch his breath before Kyle has grabbed his head and pulled him over. For a split second, Benji sees the circle of boys standing around him, stroking their cocks in the wet shower room.Then Kyle’s long, skinny cock is ramming its way down his throat, and his world fades out again. Kyle cums on his face, and some other boy pumps a load out onto his tits. Benji can hardly even process what’s happening. Reese’s cock is next, and another boy jerks off against Benji’s back while Reese’s crooked cock slams down into Benji’s mouth. Cock after cock rams its way into him, filling his mind and body with the constant violation. A camera goes off. His knees are bruised. His body is cold. Goosebumps cover his skin. Benji can feel something drip from his twitching cunt. A wretched warmth rises inside of him.
Mikey grabs Benji and pulls him up. “I wanna fuck him.” Benji feels Mikey’s massive cock press against his ass. It’s the thickest of all the boys, too big for Benji to fit in his mouth, let alone in his virgin cunt. That’s enough to make him snap out of the cock-drunk haze he’d been caught in.
“Wait! No! Stop! You said—”
Benji slams his elbow into Mikey’s stomach and shoves past him. The other boys, still recovering from the euphoria of orgasm, try clumsily to grab hold of him, but his wet body slides out of their hands and propels him out of the shower room and into the lockers. He scrambles away from the crowd of boys and runs through the long room, colliding right into Ross. Ross looks up from his phone to see a freezing cold Benji, naked and covered in cum, streaks of hair dye, runny makeup, and smeared bloody dirt.
“Jesus fuck Benji, are you okay?”
“Ross you gotta help me, they grabbed me, it was so fucked I don’t know what to do I —”
Ross cautiously wraps one arm around Benji, staining his shirt with…who knows what. “Yeah, dude, Jesus. Here, let me get you a towel. What the fuck…”
“Hey Ross.” Justin steps out of the shower room, pulling his shorts back up over his still-twitching cock. The other boys pile out along with him, all of them nervously glancing around and shivering. The smell of sex hangs miserably in the lockers. “Nice job catching that runaway fag.”
Ross looks up at Justin with disdain. “What do you think you’re doing to him?”
“Just a little goofing around, right Benji? Just boys being boys. You know all about that, don’t you?”
Benji feels Ross tense up against him. He looks away from Justin’s gaze. “You fuck boys often?”
“Nah, just fags. And besides, we were almost done. Mikey had never tried fucking boy pussy before. Poor dude wanted to give it a shot.”
Benji realizes that Kyle is standing next to them, and Reese is on the other side. He looks around in fear before looking up at Ross. Mikey leans down, putting one hand on Ross’s shoulder.
“You a fag, Ross?”
Ross shoves Benji away, and steps out of the circle. Benji cries out as his ass slams into the mud-stained locker room floor. “Wait, Ross, please!”
“No way. I’m just like you.” Ross looks away. “I’m nothing like this sissy.”
Mikey pushes past Ross and picks Benji up, shoving him ass-up onto one of the benches in the locker room. The metal is miserably uncomfortable against his tits, and a small amount of blood pools from his mouth onto the metal. Kyle pins Benji down while Mikey pushes open his legs and shoves his enormous cock into Benji’s twitching cunt. It’s a hard fit, but Mikey lets out a deep moan once it slides in, and Benji screams into the metal bench. A couple of the boys feel sick, but they know the truth — you can’t back down now. Once you start down this road, you all need to be co-conspirators about it.
“He gave all the boys a blowjob. You gonna get in on it?” Reese sidles up to Ross and gestures at the display of sexual violence in the middle of the room. Ross shakes his head, and Reese smirks. “I guess you really are a pussy…”
Ross hits Reese in the side and storms up to Benji’s twitching body. All the boys watching go quiet. None of them have ever seen Ross’s cock before, and there’s been plenty of rumors. He pulls his jeans and boxers down to whip out his clit, engorged in size from testosterone for almost four years. His labia are longer too, at least three inches, and Ross pulls them together as one micro-penis. It’s the smallest of the cocks Benji has had forced in him this afternoon, but it’s still at least four times as large as Benji’s own clit, currently slamming into the metal bench over and over to match Mikey’s rhythmic pounding.
“Ooh hell yeah brother, get in on it!” Kyle hoots in excitement. Ross looks down at Benji’s face. His eyes are large and round, bloodshot with tears and covered in cum. Ross grabs Benji’s head and shoves his whole cock into his pathetic faggot mouth, and the locker room erupts in cheers. He doesn’t last long, but that’s never the point. He’s a co-conspirator now.
Mikey dumps his load into Benji’s twitching cunt. Justin takes a second round of it, pushing himself into Benji’s gaping hole. More cum splatters against Benji’s back. At some point someone flips him over to jerk off onto his tits. Benji’s head spins, his body used over and over again by boys he had spent his entire life going to school with.
After another half hour of use, the energy in the locker room starts to peter out. Kyle tries to go for a round three but can’t get it up. Mikey has shoved himself into Benji so many times that his cock hardly works. The boys walk out, high-fiving each other and chatting about how fucking cool that was. Justin kneels down in front of Benji and looks him in the eyes.
“Hey. Tell anyone about what happened and everyone will know you’re a sissy. We took plenty of pictures. Keep your mouth shut and everything will be fine, okay? You got it?”
Benji nods with shame. He knows he couldn’t admit what happened even if he wanted to. Eventually the room empties out, and it’s just Benji and Ross, alone in the locker room. Benji’s eyes are closed. Some part of him wants to die here, on this cold awful bench in the middle of this cold awful room. A pile of clothes lands in front of him.
“Get up, get dressed, go home.”
Benji looks up at Ross, horrified. He has so many questions, but he doesn’t even know where to start. Betrayal competes with exhaustion in his heart. A flood of humiliating thoughts and insecurities drown out any clarity in his mind. A disgusting rot settles into his body, a shame that he doesn’t have words for. His chapped lips and dry throat finally mumble out a single question: “Why?”
Ross looks away. “You’re either a man or you’re a faggot. I made my choice. Goodnight Benji.”
The thud of Ross’s heavy boots solemnly sound down the hall and out of the locker room, leaving Benji alone.