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How to Spot A Faggot

M/m, humil
  • Chapter 1
  • Chapter 2
  • Chapter 3
  • Chapter 4
  • Chapter 5
Chapter 1

Coach Milton Brass faced the room of hunky, high school freshmen jocks. He was to give them a lecture on sex education at the very well-known private school, but his lectures were of a special variety, designed to make sure the boys became aware of the dangers of sexual misconduct.

Coach Brass stood at his lectern and next to him sat a nice looking boy covered with what seemed to be a large hospital gown. The boy seated looked very, very nervous and somewhat intimidated. His large dark eyes kept flashing at the rows of muscular jock boys who sneered in his direction. They knew the score and what was about to happen. Coach Brass' lectures were famous.

"Now boys," Coach Brass began. "You are well aware that I am known for being honest and straight with my boys. I lay it on the line and don't pull any punches. One of the major things you have to watch out for on any college campus is faggots! Good-looking, muscular young jocks like you will have faggots hitting on you all the time and I don't want you to fall prey to their sick, disgusting, perverted seductions."

"No way, Coach," One of the cute boys in the front row shouted in his manly voice and the other boys agreed.

"No faggot is touching me," another chimed in. "I'll kill the fucker."

Michael, the boy seated on the bench looked at the bulked up bodies of the jock boys. The bulges in their pants seemed gigantic.

"Yes boys, but you don't always know when you are being stalked by a dirty, motherfucking cocksucking, little faggot. Some kid on campus acts like your friend, all buddy-buddy, works out with you maybe...and all the time he really wants to get into your pants. All he wants is to put his hands, his mouth and his pussy around your big hunk of fuckmeat.

"That's how faggots are. That's all they think about...getting cock. They are the most disgusting animals on earth and think of what happens to your reputation if it becomes known that you have been hanging around with a faggot. It could ruin you. You can't wait until the cuntboy makes his move. You gotta learn, boys, how to recognize a faggot at first glance."

"That's easy Coach. They are all lisping with weak wrists and pussy walks," one big, brush-cut jock shouted and everyone laughed.

"Yes, Kyle, that kind of faggot is easy to spot. Cocksuckers who stare at your crotch when they talk to you, the ones who stand next to you when you are pissing and try to get a look at your prick, but what about the faggots who seem normal? What about the ones who are on your very team, how do you spot them? How do you defend against them? That's what this class is all about — how to spot a faggot! And, we are very lucky today because we have our own live cocksucking, queer boy, slut cunt faggot to help me with my lecture. Boys, I'd like you to meet Faggot Michael."

Coach Brass pointed over at Michael, looking very scared and insecure.

"Michael, the queer here, confided to me that he was gay, thinking I would have some sympathy for the little son of a bitch. Michael here can't afford to be kicked out of school because if he is, he will be disinherited by his daddy so Michael is here to help us out today with our How to Spot a Faggot class.

“STAND UP, CUNT!"

Michael rose to his feet. His bare feet. He felt so awkward wearing the hospital gown in front of all the boys.

"Michael here is fourteen and a freshman, just like you. That means he's probably been scoping out your dicks and balls in the locker room. How does that make you boys feel?"

"Kill the fucker!" one boy yelled and the others joined in.

Coach Brass smiled, "Not until after our class."

That got a big laugh from everyone except Michael.

"Michael is of Latino descent and has been a cocksucking queer since he was ten. Isn't that right, Faggot?"

"Yes Sir," Michael answered looking at the floor in shame.

"I'm going to point out to you boys, using Michael the Faggot as my model, exactly how to spot a faggot queer. Stand up on the chair, Cunt!"

Coach Brass sure knew how to treat faggots...the jock boys all admired him for it. He was very popular with the boys. He was known for his excellent full body massages that he gave the boys after their games.

"Please, Sir...don't make me do this. I've never even done anything gay. I just told you I had these feelings. Please don't make me do this..." Michael almost started to cry.

"Shut the fuck up, Cuntface and get up on the chair. Or do you want me to telephone your daddy and tell him what a fucked up faggot his son is?"

Michael climbed up and stood on the chair. The jock boys in the room hooted and whistled at the faggot. Coach Brass laughed good-naturedly.

"Now Faggot, lift up your skirt and show us those pretty faggot legs of yours. Boys, faggots often pride themselves on their legs. They admire and try to copy the legs of the old female movie stars. They often exercise their legs and try to get them to look like the gams of a cunt.

"They don't like them too heavily muscled. Now this spic faggot may look like he has strong swimmers legs to you, but don't be fooled by that. He likes to have his legs up in the air spread with a nice big cock up his ass.

“Keep that skirt up Faggot! Turn left and right, show the boys your faggot legs. Boys, the only way to tame a faggot, in fact the only way to treat a faggot is to degrade and humiliate him in public.

"It's the only thing that works with them. Use every opportunity you have to fucking destroy any faggot you meet, especially in public. Otherwise, they get uppity and arrogant. That's how this whole disgusting gay marriage thing got started. If they knew their places, they wouldn't dare even mention something like that. The proper place for a faggot is between your legs sucking on your cock when your girlfriend is on the rag and can't fuck."

The boys cheered the coach long and hard.

"The place for a faggot is licking your ass clean after you take a shit and have run out of toilet paper!"

The boys cheered again.

"Lets' get this Faggot's dress off and show you what the body of a fucking, homo, cuntboy looks like! Turn around, Cuntface!"

Michael the Faggot choked back a sob and turned so Coach Brass could unfasten his hospital gown. He prayed to God to spare him from being stripped naked in front of this classroom filled with jock boys. What would they do to him?

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5