STOOGE
by Purplebootsgywr
copyright 2009

[LONG! But extremely well written. Could be a whole new genre: erotic, psycho-thriller, WAM, fiction!]


Summary: A gay man with a pie-in-the-face fetish asks his hunky friend at the gym to help him live out his fantasies. Too bad the hunk is also a master hypnotist into domination and total mind control.


Jake had gotten his share of strange and interesting propositions while he did his daily workout at the gym. Considering his remarkable lifter's build, his past stint in the armed services that helped to make his physique tightly-packed and rock-hard, and his tight-cropped blond hair and dazzling smile, it stood to reason that he would be approached on more than one occasion. And he had been, plenty more than once. But this was the first time he'd ever been asked to do anything like this.

Jake sauntered easily around the pull down machine, his ten minutes spent there hefting heavy plates leaving barely a glisten of perspiration on his smooth body. Okay, you want me to do what, again?

Jake looked at his new workout buddy, a man of smaller height and build, but of friendly personality and no shortage of charm.He was Christian, a bushy-haired man in his early thirties who still looked good in spandex. His build was more that of a dancer than an athlete, although Jake understood that in some instances the two types bore little distinction from one another.

Christian got up from the butterfly machine. Unlike Jake, his conditioning was not as extreme, and he was moist with sweat.He reached for his towel as he restated his request. Look, I'm up for this part in this play, he explained again. I really want to get it, but it's all farce and slapstick. And the role I'm going for, that characterI know full well what they're gonna have me to during the audition. And I have no experience with it at all.

Jake raised an eyebrow. So you want me to hit you with a pie?

Christian mopped his brow with his towel, nodding. My character takes like three of them to the face during the course of the show. And I have never done it. I need to know what to expect.

So, what, they start chucking pies at you the minute you walk in the door, then?

Christian smiled, clearly amused by the idea. No, but I have it on good authority they do have each applicant take at least one hit at the end of his audition. I want to be ready.

Jake pursed his lips. Can't you just tell them at the audition that you're new to this? They'd probably walk you through it. I mean, that's part of what auditions are for, aren't they? I'm sure they don't expect you to know everything you need to just coming in off the street

I'm cooling off, Christian interrupted a little too quickly. I'm heading to the treadmills. He slung his towel over one shoulder, picking his water bottle up from the floor. You coming?", he asked, knowing full well it was also time for Jake's cardio. The big man nodded.

In the cardio room, Christian kept pretty good pace with his bigger friend. Jake's treadmill was set on a greater incline with a bit more resistance than Christian's, but he still appreciated that his slender friend did what he could to keep up with him.

I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Christian said after a few minutes of silence.

Jake looked over at him, momentarily thrown. Hm? Oh, you mean the pie thing? Yeah, well, I've gotten plenty of phone numbers and even some kids asking me for pointers, but this is the first time in here I'd been approached with that.

Jake hesitated a moment, then opened his mouth to ask Christian something. Christian caught the look in his friend's eye and spoke first.

There's just this thing with these auditions. Word gets out, competition gets fierce. Especially if it's a show that's popular or could promise a decent attendance. One time I found out what show they were doing a few months before fall auditions. I got the script from Samuel French

Jake's brow furrowed. Samuel French? Who's he? Theater friend?

Online bookseller. Specializes in published plays, scripts, sheet music, that sort of thing. Christian paused to catch his breath as he ran. It was not as easy for him as it was for Jake to talk and jog at the same time.

So you ordered the play...", Jake prompted.

Yeah, I spent the summer rehearsing the part I wanted at home, so when the time came for auditions, I blew everyone else out of the water. They were reading it cold, whereas I

Was cheating, Jake grinned.

I prefer to think of it as being prepared.

Man, you theater types, Jake said, picking up his pace a bit, as if to distance himself from the conversation.

A beautiful man walked through the cardio room leading a short, squat man to the aerobics area. He was about Christian's height, but with a superb body that spoke of hours of conditioning with its toned definition and no visible body fat. He smiled when he saw Jake, nodding in his direction. Jake waved back as the beautiful man followed his chubby charge into the next room and on toward a fitter life.

Who's that?", Christian asked, a tinge of jealousy in his voice.

Easy, fella, Jake said back. I don't swing that way. And even if I did, you're still my workout partner.

Christian was thrown by Jake's perception. He did have a bit of a man crush on his muscular friend, but Christian hoped he'd not been that obvious about it. No, no, it's not that, I just...y'know, wondered...

He's Samuel French, Jake said. Christian looked at him wide-eyed and confused. What, you ordered all those plays from him and you've never met him in person?

Christian only managed a Huh? in reply.

Kidding, Jake smiled. He's Patrick Seymour, the personal trainer. Jake inclined his head toward the framed photos of the gym's staff professionals, and there was the beautiful Patrick, right there with all the other experts in exercise, nutrition, and fitness.

Oh, Christian said, the clouds lifting. You train with him?

He helps me keep on track, yeah. You should try it, feels great.

Christian liked the look of the personal trainer, but Jake was more his speed. Big, powerfully built, still boyishly handsome at 27. I guess. I've thought about it, but I'm not really sure. I mean, I like coming here to the gym and staying in shape, but it's also partly about socializing. I come to see you, it keeps me motivated. But I'm not sure if I'm ready to go all the way and commit to some strict regimen with keeping notes on how much I lift and what I eat. They have got this nutritionist on staff, and I've thought about sitting down with him sometime and going over

Okay! Alright already!!", Jake blurted out. I'll hit you with the damn pie!!

Christian was taken aback. Whahuh? What do you, I mean, I didn't even mention it agai

No, it was the way you were painfully dancing around it, trying to mention anything else! Could you BE more obvious?? Get a damn pie somewhere and I'll smash you in the face with it.

Really? You mean it?

Honest injun.

Oh man! That would be so awesome! I really do appreciate it, Christian was practically beaming and had not noticed that he had picked up his pace on the treadmill considerably.

If it means so damn much to you, Jake offered, shaking his head.

That is so cool Christian gushed. There's this bakery not far from my house. If you follow me home after showering up, I can pick up this amazing banana cream they make right there on the premises. It is so gooey, and so rich, and so messy

I will only go through with this is you promise to stop talking about it for the rest of the workout, Jake insisted.

Christian clammed up and did not speak another word while they were in the gym. But he was grinning like an idiot and his increased heart rate had nothing to do with his work on the treadmill.
* * *

Jake sat behind the wheel of his truck and watched Christian practically bouncing on his heel as he spoke to the man behind the counter of the pie shop. The large glass window was meant to display the many tasty confections carefully scattered just inside, freshly baked, gooey, and tempting. But the tall window also made the full interior of the bake shop plainly visible, so Jake could easily make out Christian's movements within. It was very clear that Christian knew the people who worked there. They greeted him warmly, one chipper skinny guy in an apron smeared with blotches of icing and dusty with flour sauntered right over to the glass case that had pies behind it. He was laughing and nodding, pointing to a mound of cream and fruit slices that Jake presumed was the banana cream Christian had spoke so fondly of on the ride over. (Jake had offered to chauffeur his workout buddy back to his place, as Christian usually took the bus.)Christian beamed and gave a thumbs-up at the sight of the enormous pie and soon paid for it and was skippingor nearly soout the door and back to the truck. He hopped into the passenger's side of the cab with the white bakery box held carefully on his lap.

Okay, Christian smiled widely, let's go.

You seem to know a lot of people in there, Jake observed.

Oh, Christian considered, Um, yeah...I stop in there from time to time. They have the most incredible crullers.

Jake stared at him a moment, then started the truck.Uh-huh.
* * *

Once at Christian's home, it did not take long to lead Jake down into the basement, to the spot at the far end of the house that Christian had deemed the perfect spot to pie me. Jake took note of the fact that Christian even had the terminology for being hit in the face like a clown with a gooey baked good, but didn't remark on it.

The basement was nice enough, if sparse. White paneling, smooth-tiled floor the color of eggshell, an old-fashioned office desk with chair and banker's lamp at the opposite end. A couch of older design and dated upholstery not far from the desk, it's out-of-date look the probably reason for it being in the basement as opposed to the upstairs living room. Not far from the desk, cardboard boxes abounded. All of them marked on their sides with their contents. Books. Dishes. Pots & Pans. So on.

So you just moved in, then?", Jake presumed.

It's my first house, Christian replied, a clear tone of pride in his voice. Sorry, but things are still a bit of a mess.

Not down here, though, Jake said, nodding toward the far end of the room where Christian was busying himself. More than half of the room was bare, with only the walls and the floor to speak of. It was also the part of the room which, due to some very nice overhead banks of recessed lighting, provided the brightest illumination. Jake thought that if he had boxes to sort through, this would be the spot to do it, not the dimmer end of the basement by the old desk. Jake watched Christian as he worked with what looked to be practiced skill along the back wall.So what are you doing?

Protecting the paneling, Christian said quickly, still sounding quite happy. He was taping up layers of clear plastic sheeting all along the wall with stout colored tape. A big pie to the face can make quite a mess, and I don't want to spend all of the next day scrubbing down the walls from the cream spatter.

Jake nodded. Makes sense. Then he though a moment. Where'd you get all that plastic?

Christian turned to face him, looking as if he'd been caught off-guard. Oh! Um, that. His eyes darted around the room and rested upon the piles of cardboard boxes at the far end. The movers left them. The covered the furniture and stuff with them. You know how they do. I just hung on to it all. Thought it might come in handy at some point. He grinned, rather nervously. Who would've thought we'd be using it for this, huh?

Jake scratched the back of his neck, feeling the tension had gone up in the room. Well, let's get this over with, alright?

Almost set, Christian said, suddenly chipper again. He lay down a final layer of the sturdy clear plastic (quite unlike the normally thin cling film wrap movers used on furniture, but Jake said nothing about that) on the floor. Okay, we're good.

Christian grabbed a stool from the far cornerthe only furniture in this part of the roomand sat himself down, a huge smile on his face. Let me have it.

Jake couldn't help but smile back. Here was the nice guy with whom he had become workout buddies at the gym, happilygleefullyasking him to hit him in the face with a pie. It was absolutely ridiculous. And yet oddly appealing at the same time. You sure you want me to do this?", Jake asked, taking the large pie from its box.

Sure I do!", Christian urged, a twinge of desperation in his voice.

All this for a play? For an audition for a play, yet?

Well...yeah.

And you're sure they can't just give you a run-through at your reading, then?", Jake asked, now teasing his slapstick victim.

Christian fumbled with his answer, seeing now how feeble his story was, how unlikely the scenario. Well, it's just, I mean, it's all about being prepared.

Jake stood there, feeling the heft of the pie in his strong hand, lifting it slowly up and down, watching Christian's eyes glued upon it. Uh-huh.

Christian's hands gripped the edges of the stool. Yeah, that's right. I mean, anyone can get a pie in the face, but if you stand tall, really take it, not seeming at all...", he paused, swallowed, continued, ...at all thrown by it, you can showyou can show how well fitted you are for that...that kind of humor.

Okay, I guess maybe I can see that, Jake said, He was now walking back and forth in front of Christian, holding that pie, switching it from large hand to large hand, looking distractedly around the room. What's the whole audition process like?", he asked, infuriatingly. I've never been in a play before.

Christian had to adjust his legs upon the stool. He was finding it impossible to sit still. Well, there's...there's usually this room full of people and they have to...they have to each get up and read cold from a copy of the script from the play.

Unless they've preordered the script and are already rehearsed, Jake commented.

Unless that, yeah, Christian confessed. Was he sweating now? He was sweating.

So you have to read with other people, Jake considered, but there are some stuff they make you do by yourself, then, huh? Like with the pie?

Well, yes! One time for a farce I had to jump up and down to show if I could do this shtick where I'd have to bound up the stairs with my pants around my ankles. Every guy had to do that, each of us one at a time.

That sounds funny, Jake grinned, picturing it. You must've been pretty good.

I didn't get the part, Christian lamented. He crossed his legs, then uncrossed them. His fingers clenched and then unclenched along the edges of the stool's seat. He began to rock back and forth. Jake bit his lower lip, trying to keep from bursting out laughing at his friend's obvious discomfort over the anticipation.

So if it's, like, this slapstick thing, Jake went on, dragging it out, you'd have to be ready to basically be made to look like a real idiot in front of everybody else.

Oohhhhh yeah, Christian said, now looking at the floor, grinding his teeth a bit.

Isn't that pretty uncomfortable?

Um, it can be, I suppose, but it's all part of theater. You have to be...y'know, be ready for any-anything...

Jake's tone then changed entirely. Oh, hey. Christian, I just remembered something.

Christian was still looking at the floor, only now as he gripped the sides of the stool seat, he found himself kicking his feet back and forth slightly, like a little kid. What's that?

Look up.

Christian did.

WHAMMM!!!

Jake planted the pie smack in Christian's puss. Cream spattered everywhere, spraying the plastic behind him. The sound was like a wet splat backed by a coiled spring, which considering Jake's arms, was not far off. Christian's arms pin wheeled, the pie plate fully covering his face, blinding him. He tried to speak, or make some sound, but all that came out was a burble of gulping noises beneath the thick goop. Christian slipped backwards off his stool, and Jake just grabbed the front of his shirt in time to keep him from falling onto the hard floor. Jake could not help chuckling, but had the presence of mind to give his workout buddy a good shake, making the pie tin come loose and tumble to the floor, it's thin foil clattering louder than he had anticipated.

Now the state of poor Christian was plainly visible. He was saturated in pie. His face was unrecognizable buried as it was beneath mounds of sticky pie filling, bananas and gooey cream. Streaks of high-impact spatter coated his shoulders and ran partway down his arms. Even his palms were slick with some runoff whipped cream, which certainly contributed to Christian losing his grip on the stool. A massive glump of pie clung to the front of Christian's shirt, the rest of it clinging tightly to his face, bits and chunks of crust stuck throughout his hair.

Jake could not contain himself any longer. At the sight of his gym pal reduced to such lunacy, he burst out laughing loudly and lost his grip on Christian's shirt. Christian tumbled backward, trying blindly to gain some sort of footing, but his shoes found only cream-slickened plastic, and he did an absurd dance as he spun once, slid back toward the wall, his legs appearing to fly about at random, and he smacked against the plastic tarp hung there with a sad slap. Christian then slid down the wall, his feet still scrambling for purchase, failing miserably, and he settled to rest upon his ass in a small pile of creamy slop. The sound of the impact resounded softly, as if Christian had just unceremoniously passed gas. Part of the plastic sheeting tore down from the wall, dropping a large clump of banana cream that had been stuck there directly on top of Christian's head.

Jake laughed convulsively. He strode around the room, howling helplessly, stopping only intermittently to point at his friend and then laugh even harder. Christian sat on the floor, surrounded by creamy pie spatter on plastic, himself reduced to a laughable mess, an absolute clown, the butt of a joke he himself had prompted.

Jake tried to feel bad about what he'd just done, but his laughter would not allow it. He even turned his back on his saturated friend once, in order to compose himself, but it didn't work. Unable to turn away for long, Jake peered back around to see Christian sitting there, legs splayed out before him, his face a mass of cream devastation. And Jake howled ever louder.

Looking at his friend (though possibly not his friend for long), Jake saw that Christian's shoulders were quaking. Uh-oh. Was he crying? Had Jake hit him too hard? Was his loud, roaring laughter stinging him too badly? Jake leaned forward and reached toward his friend. Christian? Jake wiped away some of the pie that covered Christian's eyes. Chris? You okay in there? Jake shook the goop off his fingers, which landed with a thwop in the empty pie plate. But Christian was not crying. He, too, was laughing.

You little dickwad! You're enjoying this more than I am!

It was true. Duly exposed, Christian began to laugh almost as hard as Jake. As his body shook with the growing waves of happiness, the large chunk of pie that had thus far clung to Christian's shirt came loose and rolled sloppily down his front, falling off his upper thigh and landing unceremoniously on the plastic floor covering, right beside the pie plate.

Jake took this as a sign and scooped up the fallen chunk, and any other sizeable offerings he could find upon the floor or the plastic protecting the back wall. Jake even clutched a massive handful of cream pie from Christian's hair and smooshed it back into the pie tin. The mound of glop no longer even vaguely resembled a banana cream pie, but it would prove more than effective as a slapstick missile.

You want to go again?", Jake asked, still chortling.

Oh, GOD yes!", Christian said, spitting bits and flakes of pie from his mouth. That was AWEsome!!!

Jake stood up, readying his throwing arm, all smiles, when he noticed something. It was difficult not to. Dude, have you got a hard-on?

Christian looked down at himself. He sure as hell did. Beneath his pants was the clear outline of his member, stiff as a steel rod, fit to burst through the material and stand at attention. He stuttered. Uhh...er-ah-I-I! Why had he worn his white khakis for this?

Jake stood a bit taller, one gooey hand tucked under the arm that held the reassembled pie. There's no play audition, is there, Christian?

Christian shook his head. The cream upon his face stayed there.

You're just totally into this, aren't you?

Christian nodded again, a bit smaller.

So you get off on being humiliated, is that it?

Christian answered, but his voice was too soft to make out.

Jake held a hand to his ear. How was that? Again, please?

Yes, I do, Christian said, just loud enough to hear. Although his face was covered in pie, Jake could swear that he could make out his friend blushing.

So you just wanted towhat, make a fool of yourself and you wanted me to do it for you?", Jake said, an edge coming into his voice.

Yeah, Christian confessed. I'm sorry.

Jake looked at his friend's massive boner. You don't look sorry. He switched the pie from one hand to the other. Why didn't you just do this yourself? What did you need me for?

I guess...", Christian said, deciding that being completely honest would cost him nothing more at this point. I guess it's because I'm a...(mumble) Jake did not catch the last word.

You're what?

I'm a stooge, Christian said louder.

Jake furrowed his brow. Christian looked up at him through the hole in the cream on his face that Jake had made and, as best he could, met his eyes. He explained to the larger man, A stooge. Someone who lets himself get humiliated in front of onlookers who laugh at him. A target for jokes and embarrassment.

And it's better with someone there to laugh at you, huh?", Jake said.

Christian nodded, a bit harder than he'd meant to, as another small clump of pie fell from his face to his lap. This was the first time he'd ever heard it spoken aloud by someone else, much less someone he knew and called friend. Or had once. Who knew, after this?

Jake paced back and forth across the basement floor, still hefting the pie in one hand, shaking his head, considering how he had been the one who had been duped here. He looked at Christian, still there on the floor, and he still smiled at the shape he was now in. He walked over to his gym buddy and Christian braced himself to be told any number of things. Don't ever talk to me again. Steer clear of me at the gym. Find someone else to get you off.

Instead, Jake said, Hold out your hands.

Gingerly, Christian did, and Jake placed the pie plate with its pile of collected goo in his friend's hands. He then took several steps back.

So, what are you, then?

Christian looked up at him, a bit confused. What?

Jake spoke sternly. You just told me what you are. Say it to me again.

II'm a stooge?

Jake shook his head. No, with conviction. If that's who you really are.

Christian felt himself become a little defensive. Whuhbut it is! I mean, I am.

Then say it. Jake stood tall, his hands behind his back.

I'm a stooge.

C'mon, what is that? Feel it, it's your fucking identity, Chris!", Jake barked. Christian was instantly reminded that his friend had spent years in the military. His authoritative presence came through loud and strong.

I'm a stooge! Christian sat up straighter.

Jake shouted, his face red. Like you mean it! OWN it!

I'M A STOOGE!!!

Jake gestured with his index finger. Pointing at Christian, then spinning the finger harshly upward, toward the ceiling.

Christian knew what it meant, but still hesitated a moment.Jake leaned forward, a look of menace in his eyes. Those eyes said one thing: Do it NOW.

KER-SPLATT!!!

Christian slammed the pie into his own face with as much force as he could muster. More cream smashed into him, leaving goo and gunk all over him as his friend watched. It was humiliating. It was dehumanizing. It was utterly wonderful.

Christian began to peel the pie plate from his face, when Jake spoke up harshly. Leave it there. Immediately, Christian let his arms fall to his sides and sat up straight again. Waiting for further orders. None came. Instead, Jake simply laughed at him. It made Christian even more excited.

His mind raced. God, was this even happening? Was this hot, ripped gym bunny ex-military guy actually ordering him around, making him pie himself, then laughing at him? It was a gay stooge's dream come true. Finally, Jake's laughter began to subside.

Okay, take the plate off, Jake allowed. As Christian reached up, Jake added with a strong tone, Slowly.

Slowly, Christian peeled the pie plate off his smothered face, revealing all the goop that covered him. Jake burst out laughing all over again, as if he'd seen it for the first time. Christian began to laugh too. He looked up, unable to see anything through the banana cream, and spat out a bit of pie filling so he could breathe. Pttht! The sight of it made Jake howl.

After stumbling around again, clutching his sides and pointing at his fallen pal, Jake gathered himself enough to stand upright and look Christian over. You fucking idiot. You absolute total moron.

Christian held his hands out in a What can I say? gesture and just said, Stooge.

Jake shook his head, snorting back more laughter. Okay, this was so not the way I ever imagined I'd be spending this evening. He started for the stairs and the way out. He paused on the lower landing and looked back at Christian.Same time at the gym tomorrow then, he said offhandedly.Oh, and on the way homeI'll spring for the pies.

With that, the muscular man made his way up and out, as casually as if he'd just stopped by for a drink and the sports scores. When Christian heard the door close, he finally exhaled and allowed the experience to fill his head, leaving his mind to swim.

Christian's dick throbbed and pulsated. He knew he'd have to give it release before his balls exploded. He also knew that it would not take much to fire off a tremendous orgasm tonight.Not after all this. As Christian's sticky hands groped for his button fly, he was already looking forward to tomorrow night.
* * *

The next evening at the gym, Christian and Jake went through their workouts in silence. There were a few comments here and there, such as Spot me or Put that at 350, will you?", but nothing beyond that. Christian felt sure there was a metaphorical elephant in the middle of the room. He maintained the silence right along with Jake, but part of him wanted to blurt out something like, So, you found out last night that I'm into pie-in-the-face humiliation and even got manipulated into getting me off by it. Other than that, how're things?He decided that silence was better.

Halfway through their run on the treadmills, Christian could stand it no longer and said, Look, about last night. It was fun and all I appreciate you doing it, I really do, but you don't have to do it again if you don't want to. I mean, if you're uncomfortable with it

Three, was all Jake said, interrupting him.

What?", Christian said, momentarily losing step on his treadmill. What do you mean, three what?

I'm thinking we pick up three of them tonight, he said, still facing straight ahead as he ran in place. Then looking directly at Christian, he said, Three pies. If I'm springing for them and all, I should be able to pick the number. The banana cream worked really well. We should get three of those.

Christian picked up his pace as his excitement grew. He stabbed a finger at the console before him, resetting his speed. What? You sure? I mean, you're sure you want to

Jake was looking forward again. I'm sure.

Christian couldn't keep his trap shut. I mean, that's great, I'm in for sure, but you just found out what I'm into

Jake waved a dismissive hand. Fft! I also found out I'm into doing it to you. Now how about we shut the fuck up about it before somebody passing by overhears us and thinks I boned you last night?

Christian clammed up, but was grinning like an idiot. He kept running at a rapid clip, but not to reach the end of his timed set on the treadmill. Now Christian was racing towards the end of his workout and all that awaited him at home.

This time, rather than wait out in the truck, Jake came into the bakery with Christian and was given the grand tour of the pie section, and introduction to the staff who were working that night, and which pies were the best to use for their rarified endeavor. Jake sprang for three large banana creams.Everyone in the bakery smiled accordingly and thanked them graciously. Jake picked up that they seemed to know precisely what the baked goods would be used for.

Back at Christian's home, Jake was impressed to find that the basement was once again spotless and fresh plastic had been placed over the walls and floor. The area smelled of pine cleaner, fresh and appealing. Christian had the cleanup down.Christian grabbed his stool and sat himself down with all due haste.

Okay, let me have it!", he urged.

Jake looked him over and frowned. Not the stool, he said. I don't want you falling off and killing yourself. Get rid of it.

The tone in Jake's voice was not cruel or demanding, but there was still an edge of authority there. Christian did not hesitate and put the stool in the corner right away. He then stood in the middle of the plastic tarp and spread his arms wide.

Better?

Jake rubbed his chin, thinking. A little. Have we got something where we can position you a little closer to the ground?

I can sit on the floor again, Christian offered. He rather liked that image. A grown man, forced to sit on the floor like a little kid.

No, no, not that, Jake said. Not yet. He looked around and his eyes came to rest upon the old desk at the far end of the basement. Grab the desk chair, Jake commanded.

Without thinking that Jake was much closer to it, Christian ran over and grabbed the old, somewhat worn, office chair. It sat a bit low from years of use, with recessed padding and stiff metal arms. Christian wheeled it over to the center of the plastic tarp and sat himself down in it.

Better, Jake said. Christian was all smiles. Jake began to open up the first pie box as he eyed his target. Something still wasn't right. You're dressed so normally, Jake observed. Christian tilted his head forward in confusion. Pardon? Jake clarified. You should be in a clown suit or a jester outfit or something. Show you're a stooge.

Or a tuxedo or something else really respectable-looking to bring me down a peg, Christian suggested.

Heh, I like the way your mind works, Jake added. But you'd do better as a clown.

Jake withdrew the pie and tossed the empty box aside. He reeled back but then stopped.

What?", Christian asked. What's wrong? Was he having second thoughts? Was he going to back out?

Jake said, Take off your clothes.

What??", Christian asked, caught totally off-guard.

The tasteful polo shirt and slacks just aren't doin' it for me. Strip to your shorts, Jake told him.

Christian was getting harder by the second. Um, are you sure? You want to try this with me

Move it, Stooge!", Jake hollered.

Yes, sir!", Christian answered. Obediently, he stripped off his clothes, tossing them aside carelessly until he was reduced to only his snug white jockeys. they did very little to hide his erection. Jake snorted a derisive laugh at him. It only made Christian harder.

So what are you, then?", Jake asked, leadingly.

Christian squirmed a bit, feeling totally exposed standing there on the sheets of plastic, dressed only in his jockeys. An odd sensation considering both men had seen each other naked in gym locker rooms. He cleared his throat before answering.

Uh...I'm a stooge. Jake inclined his head forward, hinting that something was missing. Christian quickly added, Sir.

Siddown, stooge.

Christian complied.

Jake began to pace back and forth in front of the near-naked Christian. So why do you think I should hit you with this pie, stooge? He was going to make Christian ask for it. Oh, man.

Be-because I want it. Sir.

Jake began to heft the pie in his hand, up and down, up and down, slowly. He shook his head. No, no, no, stooge. What's the real reason I should throw it?

Christian's head swam. God, what the hell was this, 20 questions? He didn't want to play a quiz game, he just wanted to experience some much-anticipated humiliation! He wanted to be the stooge. The light bulb came on over Christian's head. He spoke, quietly, submissively.

Because I deserve it, sir.

Jake made a sincere frowny-face and nodded, considering this. Good answer. And why do you deserve it, stooge?

Be-because I really need to be humiliated.

Damn right you do. And why is that, do you suppose? Jake turned to face Christian, who was practically quaking in his chair.

Because I'm a stooge.

WHAT are you??", Jake hollered, military style.

I'm a STOOGE!

WHAMMO!!!

Christian caught the first pie full in the face. His head snapped backward with the impact and the chair he was in rolled a bit on its rickety wheels, traveling several inches before catching on the plastic beneath it. Christian felt the cream, the goop, all over his face, covering his eyes, going up his nose, filling his world with the smell of ripe bananas. He was utterly humiliated and debased. He was hard as a rock.

The pie plate came free from his face as Jake pried it away with two fingers. he already had the second pie ready to fire.Jake's voice was all business. You want the next one, huh?

Christian nodded his head yes. He was still blinded by all the pie filling, the goo that coated his face. But he wanted more.

What do you say?", Jake prompted.

Pweese, thir!", Christian said from beneath the mound of banana cream.

Why?", Jake asked, teasingly.

Bekuth I'm'a thooge! I deserff id!!

SUH-LAMM!!!

The second pie put Christian back against the wall. He squirmed in his chair as he felt spatter coat his bare arms, chest, and legs. His vision was obscured, but he could imagine how foolish, how stupid, he looked. He relished it. He tried to move the plate from his face, but it was truly stuck fast. Then he realized with a twinge of panic that it was being held there, forcibly.Jake's powerful hand was pressing the pie into Christian's face.

What are you, son?", he barked. Christian fought against the pressure, unable to speak at all with so much goop pressed upon him. He opened his mouth to speak and only brought in a huge wad of banana cream. He swallowed it gratefully. Never had defeat tasted so sweet.

You don't breathe until you confess, Jake said, although his tone was more playful than cruel.

Christian forced himself to say it. IY UH THOOGTHE!! More cream went in his mouth. It was delicious. Delicious, tasty humiliation.

Damn right you are, Jake said, swiping the pie upward over Christian's face, allowing him clear breathing while smearing it upon him all the more.

Jake laughed. His taunting, ridiculing guffaws only made Christian love it more. Yes, let me have it. Humiliate me.

Jake had one more pie in hand. Uncover your eyes, stooge, he ordered.

Christian swiped the thick cream away from his eyes so he could see. There stood Jake, tall and imposing (he had also taken his shirt off, making him appear even more impressive for all his muscles, spattered with dollops of cream), brandishing the final fresh pie.

Hands behind the chair, Jake commanded. Christian obeyed instantly. You get off on this, stooge-boy? Christian nodded.

Yes sir, I do, sir.

Stooge! Jake let fly with the last pie. THWAPP!! Right into Christian's crotch.

Jake could not help but laugh. He was truly enjoying Christian's humiliation, but not as much as Christian was.Jake looked down at his friend, covered in pies, looking like a complete imbecile, still quivering with barely-held laughter.You liked that, didn't you, stooge?", Jake asked.

Christian looked down at his saturated jockeys, pie filling everywhere around his crotch and abs, and his boner was still clearly evident for all the mess, protruding upward beneath his moist briefs, poking through all the cream. Christian, having the time of his life, pointed to his massive erection. Hello? What do you think?

Jake's hardened, military voice was back. What was that? Is that the proper response for a lowly stooge to make??

No sir!", Christian said back quickly, reflexively. I mean, yes sir, I enjoyed that very much. Thank-you, I love being humiliated, Sir! His back and shoulders were now as stiff as his cock.

Jake burst out laughing again. The loud sounds of his amusement relieved all tension created by his role-playing (or was that all that it was?) and Christian relaxed again, grinning once more. Jake scooped up as much pie filling as he could from the floor and the walls and refilled the three pie tins into cobbled-together, gooey messes.

Hold out your hands, he told Christian. Christian rapidly obliged. Jake set two of the pie tins, overflowing with clusters of cream, into Christian's hands. One tin in each hand. Christian looked down at them expectantly. Then he looked up at Jake, whose smile now appeared just a bit menacing.

Sandwich yourself, Jake said. Christian's face, even beneath its coating of cream and filling, broke into a broad smile. Oh, yes. This was what he wanted. Jake was telling him to smash both pies into himself, one on either side of his head. The hesitation created by his moment of anticipation did not set well with Jake the control freak. Stooge! Sandwich yourself NOW!!

Sir! Yes, sir! Stooge sandwich NOW, sir! FWAMMM!!

Christian smashed the two pies into his head, sending cream and goop hurtling everywhere around him. Thick cream oozed into his ears, dulling the sound of the room. The banana filling gwished into his hair, ran down the back of his neck and down toward his ass. The thick pie mess went up his nose, covered his eyes, and stuck fast under his chin. Jake walked over, his loud laughter muted slightly by all the cream, and placed his meaty hand atop Christian's head, gripping him tight and holding the two pie plates in place.

With the other hand, Jake swatted Christian's hands away.Christian sat there as Jake guffawed , holding the tins and much of their contents fast to his head. Christian could only make out part of what his friend and controller was saying, but was certain he heard idiot, jackass, clown, and of course stooge several times. Jake gripped Christian's head and asked him a question there was no way the human pie target could answer from within his helmet of glop. Are you just a big stoo-pid stooge? Is that what you are?? Like a schoolyard bully harassing the weakest kid in class, Jake used his grip on Christian's head to make him forward, back and forth, up and down. Yes, yes, I'm a big stoopid stooge. Under his blindfold of humiliating pie and crust, Christian was sure he was about to shoot his load right then and there.

Jake laughed even harder as he slowly peeled away the twin pie tins from Christian's head, having to take a break to wander the room and regain his composure. This took some time, as he kept stopping to point and laugh at his fallen friend. All Christian could think about was what heaven this entire scene was.

Finally, Jake gathered up every bit of cream, crust, and filling he get from around the room and off the plastic. He even scooped some of the pie spatter from Christian's chest and face. Jake piled it all very high on the final pie tin. He then took Christian's hands, holding them out firmly, and placed the last hodge podge pie upon his victim's palms. He then stepped back. Once clear, he said only one thing.

You know what to do.

KA-THWAMMM!!

Christian brought the pie right into his face with both hands. Cream everywhere, a demeaning sound of bakery glop against flesh, and far worse than before, Christian was utterly decimated. He was humiliated, belittled, reduced to an object of ridicule. Christian went to remove the pie tin and Jake said firmly, Leave it! Christian left it.

Jake padded over to Christian softly and placed a hand firmly against the pie plate, pressing the mass of smashed pie gunk against his victim's face. But he did so almost gently, rubbing more than forcing the volumes of banana cream and shattered crust into Christian's forehead, chin, and cheeks. Just loud enough for his friend to hear him, Jake spoke in low tones.

You feel that, Chris?

Christian attempted to say Yes, sir, but got a mouthful of pie cream for his trouble, so instead he nodded. Only a slight nod, enough to acknowledge the question of his tormentor, but not enough to come loose from his grip. Jake continued speaking soft and low.

Feels good, doesn't it, Chris? Feels like humiliation. Jake began to slowly and gently smear the pie into Christian's face in an easy circular pattern. All that cream, that filling, those bits of crust...it feels so good.Feel it, Chris. Experience it. Fully absorb how utterly humiliating it is. How much you love it, how much you deserve it.

Christian's body began to quiver just a bit. He had never felt so aroused, so hard, in his life.

It feels like defeat, doesn't it, Chris?", Jake went on. It feels like you have been made into the biggest stooge in the world. That soft, gooey, sticky, creamy mess aalllll over you, and Jake smeared the pie a little more over Christian's face as emphasis, feels ssoooo good, soooo humiliating, soooo much what you deserve.

Christian nodded again. Yes, this was what he deserved, this felt so unbelievably good. Jake said, Just sit there as a stooge and let yourself feel every little bit of this. It feels wonderful, it's part of who you are. It IS who you are. You know that.

Christian nodded again slightly, his breathing becoming a bit more of a challenge through the layers of cream, but the humiliation was so exquisite he simply didn't care.

Stay aware of all that you feel, Jake said quietly, sounding a bit farther away. Can you feel everything? All the sticky softness and humiliating cream? Christian's body was like a limp rag. He tied to nod in response to the question but it felt more as if his head just sort of lolled to one side a bit. Be aware, little stooge. Feel this, now.Feel it.

There was a soft PWAP and Jake smeared a mass of pie cream all over Christian's crotch. Do you feel that? Christian's arousal doubled. As Jake pressed a plate of leftover cream all over Christian's cock and balls, Christian realized the reason Jake's voice had seemed distant for a moment there was that Jake had been scooping up any remaining bits of pie to do this. It feel incredible.

Feel that now, Chris, my little stooge, Jake said, slowly and firmly working the pie into Christian's crotch. Pressing and smearing it all over his dick and abs. Oohh, that feels soooo good, doesn't it? This is what gets a miserable little stooge off, isn't it? Being pied, being reduced to an idiot. Letting everyone see him for the moron that he is. Thaaat's right.

Christian's body convulsed involuntarily. This was never part of the deal, but it felt so good, so amazing. Lightning bolts or sheer pleasure shot through Christian's body, emanating from his rock hard member. The cream, the steady pressure, the taunting, was driving him wild. He reached up with limp arms to take the pie tin from his face, to at least try to clear his head by taking in some unobstructed air.

That stays, Chris, Jake said, his voice still soft and melodic, but with just enough firmness that Christian immediately let his arms drop dead to his sides.

Before Christian could try anything else, Jake furthered his erotic torment. Christian could feel Jake's strong but nimble fingers reach underneath the pie plate and massage his balls, slipping here and there for all the thick cream, which had saturated his jockeys. Christian whimpered, jerking backward a few inches, totally unprepared for how good this all felt.Jake steadied him with his words.

Just feel it, stooge. Thaaaat's right. Just feel it, now.

Christian's breath came in staccato, ragged gasps, making him swallow blobs of cream as he did, which he swallowed gratefully, accentuating the experience all the more. Jake pulled Christian's soaked jockey shorts down and let them hook underneath his stooge's creamed testicles. His lithe fingers continued to massage his balls.

Feel that, stooge, feel it, now. Christian couldn't help but feel it. The sensation had taken over his entire body.

Jake's fingers reached up and, wrapping gently around the shaft of Christian's cock, slowly began to pump it, up and down. Feel it, stooge. Feel how good humiliation can be. This is you, Chris. This is the life of a stooge. This is how it feels to be a stooge. Doesn't it feel so, so very good?

Christian's shoulders tensed and he was right on the edge. He wanted so badly to shoot his load, but somehow Jake was keeping him there, unable to go further, unable to feel anything but wave upon wave of tantalizing, if humiliating, pleasure.

Jake's firm, strong hand had somehow gone back to the outside of the pie plate and was pressing it and it's creamy contents into Christian's cock and balls. The cream seemed to be everywhere, the sensations even more so.

It's okay to be a stooge, Chris, his soft and soothing voice intoned. It's okay to be who you are...what you are.Just feel it. Let go and feel it. Jake firmly rubbed the pie and all its creamy goo upwards, caressing Christian's balls, then all the way up his hard cock. You can feel it. Juusst let it go...

And Christian shot his load. It was if his pie master Jake had given him permission to do so. And what a load it was. As Christian's body was wracked with one of the best orgasms he'd ever had in his life, he thought he heard Jake whispering encouragement, but from within the world of sensual ecstasy he was now experiencing, he could not be sure. He didn't know that he was following Jake's whispered command when he muttered a mantra to himself with every jerk of his over stimulated body as stream after stream of cum shot into the mound of banana cream that covered his crotch.

Uh!imastooge..uh!..imastooge..imastooge..uh!..imastooge..imastooge...uh!!

Christian jerked and came and quivered for some time, he wasn't sure how long. After his body finally came to rest and all that was left was the heat in his face his chest melting the pie cream that stuck there and a tingle upon his skin,Jake's voice came from above him, a bit stronger but still soft and soothing.

Now that's what I call a cream pie.

Christian felt Jake lean down before him and he said, Feel it now, stooge. Jake slowly smeared the pie upon Christian's face upward, dragging the pie plate up and over, leaving a thick trail of gooey filling in its wake. Feel the thick and creamy dehumanization. Feel it cling and hang on your face, feel it drag along. Thaaaat's right. So good, so good to be humiliated, to accept and feel what you are. You're a stooge, it's alright, it's okay, you can say it, you can think it...you can believe it.

Christian's penis was beyond feeling aroused, but every other part of him felt alive and buzzing as Jake smeared the pie upward and left the pie tin atop Christian's head like a stupid silver hat. Inside, Christian's mind kept right on with his mantra. Ohhh yes, this is me, this is what I am, I'm a stooge, I'm a stooge...

After Jake stepped back from his pet stooge, he said, Clear your eyes, Chris.

Unsteadily, Christian's lifted his arms (God, they were so heavy) up and with groping fingers, gingerly wiped away enough cream to see the world before him. As soon as he could blink his eyes open without having any cream fall into them, Christian let his arms fall limply back to his sides. They hit the wet plastic with thick slap. Christian could not help but grin.

Instantly, Jake was directly before him. He held Christian's chin in a strong, commanding hand and said, Look into my eyes, stooge. Look good and hard. You see my eyes? Are your eyes locked with mine?

Numbly, Christian nodded. He suddenly felt that he could not move. What was happening?

That's good, stooge, Jake went on. Now I want you to count backwards from one hundred. After you say each number, you will punctuate it by saying that you are a stooge. Let the numbers drift away like wisps of smoke, but let your declaration stay, embedding and burning itself further into your mind. Do you understand?

Christian nodded, dumbly.

Count down, Jake ordered.

Christian began. 100, I'm a stooge...99, I'm a stooge... his own voice seemed to come from very far away.

98, I'm a stooge...97, I'm a stooge... The numbers did indeed drift away from him as soon as he said them, his voice growing more soft and feeble.

96, I'm a stooge...95... Where was he, now? He feared he was losing count, yet part of him knew that was okay. He was no longer aware of his body, of the lovely cream that covered and humiliated it.

94, I'm a...stoo...a stooge... Cobwebs filled his head, his vision blurring.

93...93...stooogge...

92.

Christian woke more than two hours later. He blinked and squinted his eyes open to find himself laying on the cold and spattered plastic tarp, whipped cream and banana filling everywhere.His face and crotch were still covered in the now cold and in places, hardening, confectionary goo. His jockeys were still yanked down below his balls, his arms lay limp out at his sides, his palms up. He felt exhausted, but he felt absolutely wonderful. Like he was capable of anything, like he had come into his own.

Jake was nowhere in sight. Christian slowly sat himself up, expecting to feel some kinks in his neck, back, and shoulders from passing out on the basement floor. But there weren't any. He staggered to his feet and slipped his way off the cream-smeared plastic and left a trail of sticky footprints up the stairs to the bathroom.

Once there, he flipped on the light and slid as much as stepped to the sink. Looking in the mirror, he saw something sticking to his forehead, submerged within all the thick cream. A small piece if yellow paper. Christian pried it out, trying not to tear it. Not easy feat amongst the half-hardening, half-melting cream. It was a small sticky note (even more sticky now) with a strong scrawl on it he could only assume was Jake's.

SEE YOU TOMORROW AT THE GYM, STOOGE!

Christian was already looking forward to it. Smiling, he threw the note away and took a shower to clean himself off. The basement cleanup could wait until morning.

Christian decided to sleep naked that nightsomething he never didand masturbated himself to sleep, thinking of his big muscled friend Jake, bashing him with pies and calling him a stooge.
* * *

Christian wandered through the gym in a fog. He knew exactly where he was, and yet everything felt strange and unfamiliar. He wandered from room to room, finding the place well-lit, clean, and ready for business, and yet completely empty. He was the only one there.

Christian moved from to the workout machine area, somehow detached from his own body, not feeling his feet upon the floor, yet making progress all the same. No one was there. He moved to the free weights. Again, all was deserted. No one running around the basketball court or playing hoops within it. No one doing aerobics or on the mats. He moved past the check-in counter to find locker keys, fresh towels and the sign-in register all prepared and out, with no one to assign, hand out, or take note of anything to anyone.

Christian found himself in the cardio room, having no memory of how he got there. Empty treadmills, elliptical cross trainers, and exercise bikes lined the room before a row of TV sets embedded in the upper corner of the far wall, each screen bearing a sign beneath telling each member which station they could adjust their headsets to in order to hear the sound. Except there was no one here to read them.

Christian wandered to the far corner for no other reason than that he did, and felt suddenly cold. He looked down at himself and with an almost preternatural calm realized that he was naked. Had he been all along? Did it matter, with no one to see him? He toyed with the idea of getting up on one of the treadmills and having a naked run when a voice made him turn around.

It was Jake, standing there fully clothed, making some smartass remark about how stupid it was for Christian to come to meet him at the gym without getting dressed first. Christian suddenly felt a flush of embarrassment and tried to cover himself with his hands. He looked down at his cock, which he couldn't seem to conceal completely with his hands, no matter how he adjusted them.

Christian then looked up to find that gathered around Jake was every guy from the gym. Correction: every hot guy from the gym. Every member whom Christian had ever cruised, had ever given the eye, or even noticed peripherally (and there were a lot of them) all stood behind Jake, pointing and snickering at Christian's bare exposure. Jake made a snide remark at Christian's expense, and laughed loudly, causing Christian to feel genuine hurt and betrayal. Christian's face reddened as all the handsome men laughed along with Jake, their beautiful faces appearing just a bit mean for the ridicule.

Christian was going to say something, was going to walk out, was going to do something when he saw that Jake had something in his hand. A pie.

Oh, no, not here. Not in front of everyone.

Christian began to protest, but Jake threw the pie, as if with some kind of super strength and unerring accuracy, across the large room and right in Christian's face. Everyone howled uncontrollably and pointed at the naked idiot with a pie in his face.

Christian clawed the pie off his face, throwing the tin down in disgust. He went to say something to Jake to voice his feeling of betrayal, only to get another pie full in the face, another scathing remark from Jake, more uproarious laughter from all the handsome, muscular men. Christian stumbled back, the cream and goo almost flowing over his head of its own accord to saturate his hair, cover his head, dribble down his back. Christian cleared his eyes and saw a great dollop of cream fall upon his slowly-stiffening member.

No, no...don't let everyone see that I get off on this...

Christian looked up from his plight to see that Jake now had two pies, one in each hand, held upward for all in the room to see. Jake turned in a slow circle as the other men (all in tight, clinging clothes of spandex or lycra, something they'd never worn before) cheered him on, chanting for more. PIE! PIE! PIE!

Jake hammered the naked Christian with pies, one after the other, each blow punctuated with an insult from Jake, a name, an epitaph. There was no visible source of where the pies were coming from, they just appeared in Jake's hands as he needed them.

Christian spun in a circle, trying to get away from the unyielding onslaught, but found that getting pied on his bare ass only made the room more crazy with laughter, more eager to humiliate him.

Now everyone in the room wore no shoes, no shirts. Their shorts were either of the skintight biker's variety or were near-nonexistent Speedos. One or two wore impossibly small body things which consisted of only thin shoulder straps which stretched down to cover (just barely) their members. They seemed to be the ones to laugh the loudest, point with the most vigor, repeat Jake's insults with the most gusto.

Jake hurled pie after pie, bashing and smashing the naked Christian mercilessly, Before Christian knew what was happening, two of the biggest weightlifters in the room had him from behind, one holding each of Christian's arms in an unbreakable grip. Every man in the room descended upon Christian now, each one armed with pies, lined up to let him have it. Everyone was naked now, but the only one who was ridiculed for it was Christian. Pie after pie was smashed into his face, squashed atop his head, smeared over his crotch, rubbed into his ass.

Soon Christian could see nothing, but could feel the relentless attack of pies from beautiful men. His bare feet slipped and danced on the now-slickened floor, but the two bruisers who gripped his arms held him upright to take his punishment. A word filled the air, as every masculine voice raised in power and impact, declaring over and over, STOOGE! STOOGE!STOOGE!

And then there was that soft, persistent, irritating buzzing.

Christian woke up in bed, his breathing a bit labored. It had been one of those dreams were all logic told him it was a dream, it had to be a dream, but logic had no membership card to this illogical and humiliating gym, so it was denied entrance. Christian shook his head slightly, reaching over and slamming his palm down upon the button of his alarm clock, silencing its buzzing. He had to smile. There were certainly worse dreams to have, he thought. Although if he had known it was a dream while it was happening, he would have done a lot less to resist it.

Christian reached for the sheets covering him to throw them back when he realized there were none. At some point during the night, he had thrown them off, leaving his naked body exposed. That could have been the reason he dreamt of being naked in public. But as Christian began to sit up, he felt something else upon him, something sticky and wet. Pie cream? How as that possible?

But when Christian looked down, he saw that he was covered in a cream of a different kind. Christian was coated in cum, from his belly all the way up to his neck. His member was still semi erect, and was bobbing slightly. He must have only just shot before the alarm went off. He had not had a wet dream since he was a kid in junior high school. He also couldn't believe he had that much in him. Christian closed his eyes and called back part of the dream. The beautiful naked men, holding him in place, smashing him with pies, chanting in ridicule, the vision so intense, so detailed... He felt his dick getting hard again. Christian shook off the memory and decided to focus instead on the shower he would have to take.

That evening at the gym, all was very normal. The fitness center bustled with people and employees , no empty rooms with naked or barely-clad men waiting anywhere in ambush. There was only the steady workings of machinery and equipment, the low hum of headphones and televisions, the radio being played behind the main counter. No chants of ridicule or cheered insults. The only aroma was that of freshly-sprayed cleansers, fighting to disperse the scent of perspiration. No banana cream to be sniffed anywhere. It was nice to be back to reality.

Christian pulled his gym card from his wallet, and as he set it down on the counter, he noticed another man slinging a towel over his shoulder and pinning his newly-assigned locker key to his gym shorts. The guy was gorgeous. 511, thick strawberry blond hair, red and blue tanktop and matching shorts with white piping snugly wrapped around the smooth-shaven build of a gymnast.As the man looked up, brushing a lock of hair from his face, Christian caught his eye. The man smiled a winning smile and, adjusting his gym bag on his shoulder, said, Hi. I'm Rory.

Christian smiled back, and said, I'm a stooge.

Rory's face fell. He looked at Christian as if he'd just announced that he'd shat himself and backed away a few steps, then spun on his heels and departed the area rapidly.

Christian bit his lips. Holy crap, had he just said that? At first he was mortified, but then couldn't help but laugh. It was just a slip, that's all, he decided, shaking his head. Too much fun last night and then dwelling on that wet dream during the day. He let it go. he took his towel and locker key from the young clerk, who offered with a smile, Have a good workout, stooge.

Christian stopped in mid-step as he was walking away. He looked askance at the clerk. What did you say?

The clerk looked at him oddly, and with a bit or apprehension repeated, Um, have a good workout, sir.

Christian just nodded dumbly. Sure. Thanks.Weird.

As Christian and Jake ran on the treadmills after a rather successful workout, Christian noted Rory, the beautiful strawberry blond, entering the room. He looked even better when sprinkled with sweat. He was heading for the stationary bikes when he saw Christian on the treadmills. Christian gave him a quick nod and a nervous smile. Rory turned tail and left the room in a hurry.

Who the hell was that?", Jake asked.

Guy I met downstairs at the front desk, Christian told him.Said his name's Rory.

And?", Jake prompted.

And I said my name was Stooge, more or less, Christian admitted.

Jake snorted back a burst of laughter and almost lost his footing on the treadmill.

It's not funny, Christian chided.

It is pretty damn funny, Jake said, smiling and trying not to laugh.

Christian had to smile, too. Yeah, I guess it is pretty funny.

They continued to laugh together as they ran.

At Christian's basement, Christian stripped once again down to his jockeys (a clean pair this time) and smoothed out the plastic on the floor. The plastic sheeting was a godsend when the time came for cleanup, but he was going through his stock like wildfire.

It smells like someone's been baking pies with Pine Sol, Jake commented as he came down the stairs.

I do my best when cleaning up, Christian explained, but the lingering aroma of delectable banana cream tends to remain.

I brought you something to keep your mind off it, Jake grinned. He held of a handful of T-shirts.

You brought me shirts to wear after having me strip down to my underpants, Christian observed dryly.

Oh, they're better than that, Jake smiled. He unfolded one of the shirts while tossing the others over one arm. The shirt was brand new, freshly silk-screened. In bold black block letters, it read I'm a Stooge.

Christian almost blinked at it. No way.

Way, Jake said. Look, there's more. Jake unfurled the next shirt, which bore a dictionary definition upon it.stooge (stooj) n. 1. A willing dupe. 2. A fool or imbecile to be humiliated by others.3. Me.

You've got to be kidding me, Christian said. Do you actually expect me to put on those

Jake cut him off. There's more, there's more. He showed the other shirts to his friend. One said PIE TARGET across the chest, with a large red arrow pointing upward to where the wearer's head would be. Another said Needs to be humiliated. Jake was almost giggling with delight as he lay down the different shirts for Christian to see and sample.

Where did you get all these??", Christian asked, marveling at how anyone could have found such shirts that so specifically matched him, much less found them so quickly.

You have no clue what I do for a living, do you, stooge?Christian flinched a little at being called that when outside of play, especially after his flub earlier with the cute guy at the gym. I run a trophy shop. Scrimmage Sports & Apparel. I screened these off today at work. And these are just the ones I brought with me.

Christian held up one shirt and shook his head slowly, side to side. No. There is no way I'm wearing one of these things.

Jake stepped forward, holding one of the shirts up before him. Why's that? Too much dignity to protect? What are you, Chris? What aarrrree youuuu? Christian tried to turn away, but he could feel his body swaying a bit, his muscles strangely relaxed, his resistance faltering, and his dick growing incredibly hard.

In less than a minute, Jake was shirtless and armed with several pies. Christian stood before the plastic-covered back wall, wearing only his jockeys...and a well-fitting T-shirt reading I'm a Stooge.

FWAMM! THWAMM!! PWAMM!!!

And that's exactly what he was.
* * *

The following morning, Christian awoke with a sense of purpose and a feeling of exhilaration. He'd had no fantastical wet dreams during the night, but given that he'd spent the evening dressed only in degrading T-shirts and jockey shorts as he was pounded with pies by his friend