A month ago, 19-year-old Scott had walked into Storm Heights College brimming with confidence. A hunky blond with perfect good looks, he turned heads walking down the corridors each day. He'd tried out for the varsity wrestling team on his second day and immediately been given a place after humiliating two opponents on the mat. For the last month, he'd been the college's golden boy.

Now, he was a laughing stock. He'd come last in two games in a row, and had been covered in so many buckets of gross mess that he'd lost count. He normally loved the way his tight-fitting singlet showed off his powerful shoulders, chest, arms and legs to the watching crowd, but today it was covered in slime and plastered to his body, clearly showing the obvious outline of his sizeable cock and balls to everyone who was watching.

As he entered the locker room, his mood wasn't helped by the cackling of Alex, who'd headed in first and grabbed his phone. Alex was a cocky douchebag and Scott couldn't wait for the opportunity to take him down a peg or two. So he was surprised to see Alex heading over to him with a grin on his face.

"Hey Scotty, look at this." Alex held out his phone to Scott, who took it and hit play on the video displayed on its screen. Immediately he saw why Alex had been laughing. Playing on the phone was a close-up video of Lucas's humiliation at the end of the last game, as he'd been forced to clean up first Scott's and then Alex's big bare feet using just his tongue.

"Hey Lucas," shouted Alex as he sat down to change out of his sticky singlet. "Fancy giving these another kiss, since you enjoyed it so much out there." He waggled his feet up in Lucas's face.

"Fuck off, douchebag," responded Lucas, stripping off his singlet and stalking off into the shower. The others laughed, and followed his lead, eager to wash off the remnants of the buckets from the last game.

Twenty minutes later, the boys emerged from the locker room in fresh, clean singlets, and made their way over to where the next game would be played. As they lined up, the Coach announced he had an offer for them.

"Alright guys. You complained earlier about not having brought spare jockstraps with you, and having to go commando under those singlets of yours."

The crowd laughed. After the last two games, they knew this very well.

"Well, in fact, I do have some spare jocks for you, and I'm prepared to make you an offer. We still need to raise more money to get you to the State meet, and to do that we need to give the crowd a bit more of a show. With that in mind, if you agree to play the next game in just a jockstrap, I'll give you an advantage at the start of the game that will give you a much better chance of winning and scoring much needed points.

In the next game, you'll be required to transport apples from one end of a short course to the other. Play the game fully dressed in your singlet and you'll need to move four apples. Do it in just a jock, and you'll only need to do three."

The boys immediately began to consider the offer. And it was a good offer, having a quarter of the game completed for them before they even started would be a big boost. And this close to the end of the day, they knew they all needed the points that would help them avoid the big forfeit at the end of the fair. But was it worth being almost completely exposed in front of this crowd?

"You each have a blackboard where you need to write your response. Write 'yes' if you'd like to take the advantage and play in a jockstrap and that means just a jockstrap or write 'no' if you'd rather play in your singlet. Once you've written your answers, keep them hidden and you'll all reveal them at the same time."

After some thought, all four wrestlers wrote their answers on their boards.

"Okay, flip them round now."

They flipped the boards to face the Coach and the crowd, and immediately there were loud cheers. Scott looked along the row of answers. Four yeses.

"Well done boys. That means you'll all start with the advantage and only need to transport three apples rather than four!"

Marc cheered, while Scott caught Alex's eye and knew he was thinking the same thing. They all had exactly the same advantage. Which meant it was as good as having no advantage at all. They were all on the same level playing field and would be exposing themselves in the Coach's skimpy jockstraps for nothing.

"Okay boys, go get changed, and I'll see you back here in a moment."

Five minutes later, the crowd cheered as the four hunky wrestlers emerged from the locker room, clad only in the Coach's jockstraps. They were white and, as the boys had realised immediately as they pulled them up over their muscled legs, different to the ones they usually wore under their singlets. Those generally had quite a thick pouch these were much thinner, with just a single layer of thin, white fabric covering their hot, college-boy cocks from the eyes of the crowd.

The boys lined up in front of the course, set out for the final game of the day, and Coach explained the rules. In front of each of them was a big plastic box with three apples in the bottom. They had to get each apple in turn out of the box, run with it along the course and drop it at the far end, and run back to the get the next. Once they had all three apples, they'd run up a slippery slope, sit in a chair at the top and pull the rope to raise the flag. First to raise their flag wins.

"There's a slight catch though," added the Coach. "You'll only be allowed to pick the apples up with your teeth, and before we start, we're going to fill those boxes to the brim with gunge. That's right boys, you're going to be bobbing for apples in gunge."

The crowd cheered as the soccer players brought on buckets of slimy gunge and proceeded to fill the boxes in front of the wrestlers. Green gunge for Alex, orange for Marc, blue for Lucas and yellow for Scott.

As soon as they were full, the Coach blew the whistle, and the game began. The boys dropped to their knees, and began trying to get the first apple out of the box. On their hands and knees, heads forward, they soon realised this was going to be tougher than they thought. Every time they tried to get any kind of purchase on the apples with their teeth, they sank down into the gunge.

The Coach walked behind them and watched their progress. "Come on guys, you're going to have to do better than this." He gave each of them a slap on the ass as he passed, which was meant to seem encouraging, but was actually hard enough to push the wrestler's faces properly into the gunge. And that's when they worked out what they had to do.

Taking a deep breath, Marc pressed his mouth against one of the apples in his bucket, pushing it down through the gunge to the bottom until his head was completely submerged in gunge. The crowd cheered at the sight of this muscled hunk with his jockstrap-clad ass high in the air as he pushed his face and head down into the deep bucket of gunge. Finally he managed to get some purchase on the apple, bite into it, and fish it out of the bucket.

Still holding it in his mouth, gunge dripping from his face, he set off running along the simple course the Coach had set out along the mats around some cones, over one hurdle and under another. Suddenly he gasped as a cold jet of water hit him in the chest. He looked up and caught sight of a laughing member of the soccer team pointing a hose at him. As he ran, the soccer player sprayed him with water across his chest, his face, and down across the front of his jockstrap. He reached the end of the course, dumped his apple in the empty bucket, and set off back for the second.

As he ran back to the start he became aware of the crowd's cheers growing, and some pointing at his crotch. He glanced down and realised in horror that the white pouch of his jock had gone completely transparent on contact with the water from the hose, and his thick dick, which was already straining against the confines of the tiny garment, was now on show for everyone to see.

'Dammit Coach, you could have thought about this," he thought to himself as he ran.

By the time Marc got back to the start to attempt to retrieve his second apple, he became aware of both Scott and Lucas closely following him, both of their faces dripping gunge and their cocks on show as much as his was. To his left he could see that Alex had finally retrieved his first apple and was just starting on the course.

The three boys leading wasted no time. They dived down on to their knees and buried their heads into the thick, slimy gunge in the bucket in front of him. Lucas managed to get his apple out almost straight away, while Scott was struggling it just get slipping out of his grasp, and he kept having to come up for air. Each time he wiped the thick, yellow gunge out of his eyes, knowing what a futile action that was as he prepared to bury his face down into the bucket once again.

As he prepared to dive down into the gunge for the third time, Scott, who had been becoming aware of the growing laughs and cheers, heard the voice of Matt, one of the guys he'd beaten to make the team, ring out clearly. "Zoom right in on his ass next time, and get a clear shot of his hole."

Placing his head into the sloppy mess once again, Scott suddenly realised what Matt meant with his head down and ass high in their air in the jockstrap, he was spreading his ass and showing off his hole to the entire crowd. He'd never felt so humiliated in his life - and the only way to end the humiliation was to keep digging around with his face in this gunge.

After what seemed like an eternity when all he could think about was his vulnerable asshole displayed to pretty much the entire college, Scott finally succeeded in biting down on the apple and pulling it out of the gunge. Standing up to run the course again he was met by Lucas coming the other way, gunge covering his torso, crotch and upper legs.

He soon discovered why. The soccer players had dispensed with the hose and were throwing buckets of coloured gunge at him as he ran the course. A bucket of purple gunge hit him from the side, coating his chest, just before another bucket of orange gunge hit him right in the face. All the time he was aware of his big cock bouncing up and down in the wet and messy jockstrap, on show for all to see.

Meanwhile, the crowd was enjoying the sight of Marc and Lucas's juicy wrestler asses side by side as they dunked their heads back into the vats of gunge in search of the final apple. They flexed their powerful butt muscles as they strained in the uncomfortable position.

Suddenly Lucas rose, followed by Marc a split second later. They both had the final apple in their mouths and were running towards the finishing line. Lucas knew he was ahead, and desperately wanted the points for the win after what had happened in the last game.

By this time though, the buckets of gunge the soccer players were throwing from the side had caused the mats to become treacherously slippery, and as Lucas rounded the final cone his legs went out from under him and he fell with a splat into a pool of gunge. Wasting no time, the soccer players took the opportunity to empty another two buckets on to him as he struggled to get up.

By this time though, an elated Marc was ahead. He crawled through the gunge that had pooled under the final hurdle, dropped his apple in the bucket and ran to his chair. He sat down with a splat he hadn't been expecting. While they'd been playing, someone had placed an enormous pie on each of the chairs, so when Marc sat down, cream sprayed everywhere, slopping up his back, his legs, up his crack and against his hole.

He gasped, shocked at the sensations of the cold cream against his ass. Suddenly he became aware of Lucas coming closer, and remembered his final task. He reached to the side, grabbed hold of the rope and pulled it hard to raise his flag for the victory.

"Oh fuck," he shouted. Because for the Coach's final trick, the rope for the flag was also rigged to a big bucket of gunge positioned above Marc's chair, and as he pulled it he was covered in a deluge of bright orange slime. The Coach wasn't one to miss an opportunity to get these boys messy, after all.

Five seconds later, Lucas landed on his chair, sending cream flying in all directions including all over Marc, and pulled his rope, sending a cascade of blue gunge all over his small but muscled body. He sat there dripping in his jock, cursing himself for slipping and costing himself the win again.

"That's first and second place taken care of, but there's still two of our competitors out on the course," Coach announced to the watching crowd. "Who'll come in third and who's going to be last?"

To be fair, it wasn't much of a competition. Both boys had their heads buried deep in their respective buckets of gunge, but Scott was searching for his final apple whereas Alex was still on his second. They both emerged at a similar time and ran the course together, but when Scott dropped his apple and made his way over to the enormous pie waiting for him on his chair, Alex still had to go again.

Once Scott had pulled his cord and the tank of gunge had emptied itself over him, he sat back feeling the creamy pie against his hole and watched what was happening at the far end of the course. Alex was stood there, dripping slime and arguing with Coach.

"I'm already last, Coach," Alex was protesting. "What's the point?"

"The point is you're a member of my team, and my team never quits. Now come on, let's finish this thing. I'm sure the crowd will give you some encouragement, won't you ladies and gentlemen?"

The crowd certainly didn't need to be asked twice. They redoubled their cheers, which increased even further as Alex dropped to his knees in front of the bucket of gunge. The only one left on the course now, Alex had the full attention of the entire crowd as he pushed his ass up in the air and his head down into the gunge.

The crowd cheered and laughed. They all knew Alex was an arrogant jock, and they were fully enjoying seeing him humiliated like this, forced to show off his vulnerable boyhole to all of them watching. Not that Alex had realised that yet though he was too dumb to realise what all the crowd could see, and figured they were just cheering his muscular bubble-butt and laughing at him dunking his head in the gunge for what felt like the fiftieth time.

"Well done boy, you're doing great there," said the Coach, laughing, slapping Alex on the butt, ostensibly in encouragement. Alex jerked forward and nearly fell right into the gunge bucket as the Coach's finger grazed against his butthole. The Coach really needed to be more careful what he was doing with his fingers.

Of course, the Coach knew all too well what he was doing, and he also knew how much the crowd were enjoying seeing this arrogant jock, the idol of the school, admired by many, hated by even more, reduced to a head in a bucket of gunge and an asshole winking at the many filming mobile phones.

From the other side of the mats, Scott was enjoying this too. Alex needed bringing down a peg or two, and Scott couldn't wait to see his reaction when he saw the phone footage of his vulnerable hole exposed for all to see. He glanced to the right and saw the barely disguised glee written across Lucas's face, unsurprising after how the arrogant jock had teased Lucas with the footage of the smaller wrestler's own humiliation earlier in the afternoon.

Finally, Alex managed to retrieve the final apple and made his way unsteadily across the slippery mat. Being the only competitor left in the game made him the sole target of the soccer players' final buckets of gunge which were thrown over him mercilessly as he rounded the cones, slipping over repeatedly. He struggled over the hurdle and crawled towards the finish.

Approaching the chair, he saw the huge cream pie just waiting for him to sit right down in, and he hesitated.

"Now now, Alex, it's not time to give up now," the Coach whispered into his ear. "Get your ass down on that pie, and I want to see you enjoying it too."

Resigned, Alex jogged over to the chair, and planted his ass down in the middle of the pie, sending cream squirting across his butt, up his back and down his legs, and reached for the rope. Finally, he pulled it, and gunged himself to finish the game.

Thick green gunge flowed over Alex, running down his head, over his muscled shoulders, down his powerful chest and pooled in his lap, covering his sopping jockstrap. He sat there dejected under the never-ending flow as it kept dropping from the tank above, sliding down his toned arms, running down his wide back as well as gushing down his front. As it finally slowed and came to a stop, continuing to drip cold drops of gunk on Alex's head, he shoved the gunge covering his lap to the floor in disgust and frustration.

"Alex! What did I tell you about wiping the gunge off yourself earlier?" Of course, Coach didn't mind Alex pushing the gunge off his crotch, as the dumb jock still hadn't worked out that the pouch of his jockstrap had gone completely transparent and was now displaying Alex's slimy junk to the watching crowd. The game couldn't have gone more according to plan for the Coach.

But still, disobedience needed to be punished, and at Coach's silent instruction, two members of the soccer team appeared at Alex's side holding pies. Both of them had been on the wrong side of Alex's unearned arrogance in the past, and took great delight in rubbing the messy, sloppy pies into Alex's cocky jock face.

"And don't even think about wiping that off, Alex," crowed the Coach as the crowd cheered one final time.

"Good job boys, I hope you enjoyed that as much as the crowd did." The laughter and cheers from the crowd and the dejection in the wrestlers' gunge-covered faces showed that wasn't the case.

"Lucas, you won that game, and Marc, you were second. Scott, you came in third, while I think we all know that Alex was last. We're just totting up the scores from the whole day, and in a moment we'll know who's facing the final forfeit. But first boys, go get showered and changed, and I'll see you all back here in a moment."

Ten minutes later, Alex, Marc, Lucas and Scott were back at the playing area. After showering they'd discovered that the Coach had left out jockstraps for them to change into, rather than clean singlets. The deal had surely only been for one game, but it wasn't like they had much choice. So here they were again, bare-assed in front of their Coach, their friends and half the college.

They looked nervously at what stood in front of them. A wooden pole had been planted in the ground, with a short cross-piece slightly above head height. Two ropes lay on the floor at its base.

"Firstly guys, well done, you all did great today and certainly put on a show." The crowd laughed. "We've now finished tallying the results from all four games, and I can reveal that the loser is..."

The boys held their breath.

"...Scott!!"

The crowd cheered, as Scott was grabbed from behind by the members of the soccer team and marched over to the stake. He was positioned against it, facing outwards, displayed to the crowd; his legs were tied to the stake at the bottom, and his arms forced upwards and tied above his head. Wearing just a jockstrap, with his entire body exposed, he'd never felt more vulnerable.

Coach turned to address the crowd. "As you know, we're raising money to take the team to the State meet, and thank you everyone for your generosity so far. But you have one final chance to donate. Guys, let's show our customers what's on offer!"

Scott watched in horror as the soccer team emerged from behind him, carrying bucket after bucket full to the brim of disgusting looking sloppy gunge. While the gunge that had been thrown over him all day had mostly been brightly coloured, the contents of these buckets was grey, brown and lumpy. Scott shuddered as he realised what was going to happen. His classmates from across the college were about to get the opportunity to pay to throw this disgusting mess over him and tied up as he was, he wouldn't be able to dodge it, avoid it or even wipe it off his body and his face.

"We ran out of gunge today, I'm afraid," Coach told the crowd, "so we've had to collect up and re-use the gunge from the mats that's already been thrown over our four wrestlers, and combined it with the leftovers from the buckets from the third game. Because it's second-hand used gunge, it'll only cost you $5 per bucket.

"Oh, I almost forgot. The final part of Scott's forfeit..."

With that, the Coach approached Scott holding a pair of scissors. He couldn't be about to release him from the ropes, could he?

No. The Coach walked right up to Scott, stood close to him, smiled right in his face, then stepped to the side, reached down, and * snip*. Scott cried out as he felt the jockstrap, the only thing that had been maintaining the last shreds of his dignity, fall to the floor, and the crowd cheered as his long, fat, wrestler-boy cock flopped out for all to see.

"Good luck Scotty," Coach laughed as he walked away. "Only two hours till the end of the fair. I'll see you then."

Scott moaned as he contemplated two whole hours of having lumpy, smelly, cold gunge thrown in his face. He thought about how it would drip down his body, and down his long, fat cock. He pulled on the ropes, but it was useless. He had no choice but to take it.

He looked up, into the grinning face of Alex. The cocky jock still wearing nothing but a jockstrap was handing a five dollar bill to one of the soccer players and accepting a bucket in return. Scott closed his eyes, and braced himself for the inevitable.


**************

Four hours later, Coach returned to the office. He'd left Scott to drip gunge in the middle of the football field for a couple of hours after the crowd went home, watching him squirm as slime dripped down his face and ran slowly along his hot cock. He'd finally untied him and sent him off to the locker room to clean up and head home. Shame the Coach had turned the water off...

The day had turned out even better than the Coach had imagined. The four arrogant jocks on his wrestling team were far too full of themselves, and it was had been about time they were taken down a few pegs.

And financially, the day had been incredibly successful too. Coach estimated they'd raised over $3,000. And it would only cost a couple of hundred to get the boys to the State meet. Coach laughed to himself as he thought about what he was going to spend the rest of the money on how much gunge would that buy? Coach couldn't wait to find out.