Travis Gets Outted

 Rated: R 


A companion piece to, but ending differently than, Travis Gets Owned

I got this idea for a story, and wrote the first part, but I couldn't decide which way I wanted to take it. It waited for me to finish it for months, and finally I decided to take it both ways.



"I fucking hate high school!" I screamed.

I'd made my friends afraid to be seen with me, and made myself a complete outcast. And it was my own fault. And it only took one week.

It started that first day of ninth-grade. When Chris Williams walked into my fourth-period math class.

I'd known I was a fag, had known since the summer after seventh grade, when I got a major crush on Brad Harper. I sorta knew before then, but only suspected, sort of. But when I saw Brad at the community pool in those trunks, there could no longer be any doubts. Ever seen a guy with perfect sandy-blond hair, and blue eyes, and lush, red lips, and a nice tan, with a lean swimmer's body? In wet, tight, Speedos? Oh, God. He was just climbing out of the pool, all wet, and laughing, and I was just walking in, and I immediately had to turn around and walk out. There was no way I was going to stay with a boner in my trunks.

I panted and sweated, and that was before I almost ran home. Then I panted and sweated as I beat myself off like never before. And that was my first messy orgasm. I'd always had dribbly ones before that one, barely leaking anything. But not that time. I shot a real wad, all over my lower stomach, just above what little pubes I had at the time. And I kept beating my meat to thoughts of Brad all through junior high. And we changed and showered for the first times in junior high, and luckily, or not, Brad was in my gym class both years. I lost count of the times I glanced at his body in those tight gym shorts during class and at his body in the showers. I looked at other boys, too, but mostly at Brad. But by the end of junior high, I had sort of moved on, giving up on Brad so much, and fantasizing about anyone at all. I had a few favorites, but you know how it is.

But then came high school. And on the first day, Chris Williams.

So different than Brad. Chris had dark brown hair, thick and wavy, and brown eyes. Almost no tan. Nice, lush, red lips, like Brad, though. And a strong chin. And he was no swimmer. He was more the football type. And wrestling. He had letters on his school jacket for both. I didn't know if he was a junior or a senior, but he was no freshman. Maybe a soph, but too tall and built and mature seeming for that.

And, oh, God, how I couldn't look away from him as he walked in, smiling and laughing with one of his friends. His buddy wasn't bad, but nothing compared to him. They sat down and I tried not to stare.

So, along comes gym class. And wouldn't you know it, there he is. With some other dude this time, another jock, and very cute, but again, nothing like him. I actually worked up the guts to follow them to where they picked for their lockers and took one nearby. You know why.

So, we get our uniforms and try them on for size. Oh, shit! He dropped his jeans and exposed the hottest pair of blue jockey shorts I'd ever seen. Stuffed! He was hung! His chest was nicely hairy, with big, brown nipples, and great pecs. And his shoulders and arms were nicely muscled. And a nice stomach with defined muscles and a treasure trail of that dark brown hair disappearing into those shorts! Oh, God! And when he put on those gym shorts, he was magnificent!

I had to sit down and wait to change into my shorts. When it finally went down, long after Chris and his friends had gone out to the gym, I got into my gym clothes and went out to hang with my friends for the rest of the period. They asked where my locker was. I told them, and they wanted me to move to the aisle with them. I was torn. I didn't want to say no, as there just wasn't a good excuse to stay where I was. Other than Chris, and I wasn't going to tell them that! And I really didn't want them in that aisle with me, not while I was scoping out Chris. So I said I would.

I kept thinking of Chris and looking at him. I got such a goofy feeling! He just made me feel so crazy! It was insane!

Then after class, I got to see heaven! Chris naked! He was... oh, God! It gave me chills! And goose bumps! And made me nearly rush him and throw myself on him and beg him to do whatever he wanted to me, screaming at him that I'd do whatever he asked. I wanted him so bad!

His body was just perfect. He had to be six-feet tall, easy, and lean and muscular, and with awesome hair on his chest and tummy and legs. And his pubes were thick and dense, and his dick hung out from them like a fucking sausage! One of those kielbasa sausages you see in the store. It was at least five or six inches just hanging there. And how it hung! All thick and... tempting. And his balls! He had to have some of the biggest nuts in school! All hanging and swaying and with his nice brown hair on the sack! Oh, fuck! Strong arms, strong legs, firm belly, developed chest, and a round, strong, pert, perfect ass with nice hair.


Day after day, I looked at him when I could in classes, and in the showers in gym. Just such perfection! Even the way he walked and moved was sexy! Seeing him naked in the showers was... it was just impossible not to bone up! So embarrassing! I got so much shit over that! I tried not to look at him, or the other guys, but when he walked past, I just had to look! Fuck!

So, I was being driven crazy all week! I go home and beat off like a mad man! Again at night, in bed, I jerk it like crazy! Thinking of Chris. Being in his arms, touching him, him touching me, kissing, licking, sucking, swallowing, and him fucking me. I wanted him to fuck me so bad!

I'd often though of fucking Brad, and him fucking me. Both ways. And oral, and everything, but when I thought of Chris, I only wanted him to fuck me. I didn't want to fuck him at all. That seemed absurd! I didn't understand why at all. I just knew that I wanted him in me, and that was what I wanted. I didn't want to stick myself into him at all. My fingers seemed like a good idea, as I sucked his big dick, but never my dick in his ass. Not that he didn't have an excellent ass! Oh, wow, did he have a great ass!

My first week at school hadn't been so bad, and Friday was nearly over. I'd made it through another day of gym and showers with Chris and my friends, and had barely boned up this time. On the way out of the showers, I'm right behind Chris, of course, and he stops to say something to someone who'd called his name, and I bump right into him.

Holy fuck!

I mean, we're both naked, both wet from showers, and I'm more than a little hard, and I slam right into him. My dork literally slapped his thighs!

No exaggeration, it went from slightly boned to fully sprung in one heartbeat. Humiliating!

And he not only noticed, he looked pissed. He looked down at me and his brows furrowed and he pushed me away from him and said, "Back off, you fucking fag!"

I turned and walked as quickly to my locker as I could, hearing them laughing, probably at me. I started changing as quickly as I could. My friends were laughing, teasing me about slamming my salami into Chris' butt. They even covered themselves so that I wouldn't see anything. And they didn't seem to be all that friendly about the jokes and teasing. They even left without waiting for me. I felt so humiliated!

On the way out of the locker room, I saw him, and glanced his way once, afraid to. He was looking at me. He kept looking at me. I got more than a bit worried.

My friends had already left me behind and gone to their classes, so I headed toward mine as usual. At the next intersection, I was yanked sideways and pushed against the wall. Chris was glaring at me.

"You a fag?"


"What the hell you doing walking behind me so close out of the showers?"

"I... I was just walking!"

I noticed more than a couple of people were stopping to see what was going on.

"You ever get that close to me again, and I'll beat the fuck out of you. Got it?"

He emphasized his last two words by punching my shoulder.

I nodded. He shoved me against the wall again and then walked away, joining his friends who had watched.

"Faggot," several kids said as I got my breath back.

Plenty of guys and some girls were staring at me. Even Dave and Mark, my friends, were staring at me. I hoped they would help, but they shook their heads and walked away.

"Queer mother fucker," someone said.

"Fucking homo. In our school. Shit."

"Stay away from me, ass pirate."

"What a faggot!"

"Little homo gonna cry?"

I was. I really was. I could feel the heat behind my eyes and my guts tightening up. I knew I was going to. I ran.

I ran until I was nearly home. When I ran out of breath and had to stop running, I walked, but not toward home. I turned and walked downtown. I kept walking. I didn't want to go home. Anywhere but home. I was a homo, and the kids at school were finding out. My friends in gym class had left me behind and even made jokes about me being a fag.

I cried more. I got lost. I walked into a park and sat on a swing and thought, and cried a little. No one played there anymore. Most of us had video games and computers, so parks weren't interesting. Some little kids came with their parents sometimes, but that was later, not right after school. So I sat there alone.

I checked my phone, hoping one of my friends had called and I hadn't heard it ring in my pocket. Nothing. But I needed to talk to someone. I called Carl.

"Dude," he said.

"Carl. I... um..."

"You a fag?"

I didn't expect it. I hesitated.

"You are," he said, sounding surprised. "You're a homo. And never said. You been checking me out and shit?" He sounded angry now.


"What the fuck, man? What the hell?"

He sounded really angry.

"I... Carl... I..."

I was gonna lose it and end up crying on the phone.

"When did you go gay?"

He still sounded angry.

"I... I didn't... go..." I'd almost said it. That "G" word. If I hadn't been so close to crying and so fucked up, I could have said that I wasn't, but instead, I'd almost admitted it.

I sniffled and tried not to sob.

"Dude. Just... don't call me. I don't fucking know who you are."

He hung up.

I didn't move for a few seconds, or think, or feel, or anything. Then I screamed. The loudest scream I'd ever made. I stood up and threw the phone as hard and far as I could, then screamed again.

Then I just sort of fell on my knees and didn't care about anything.

I don't know how long I was there in the dirt beneath the swing. No idea at all. Or if anyone came or went. None. I was just curled up and crying and didn't give a fuck.

So that was where I was when I screamed, "I fucking hate high school!"

* * *

Then I was kicked in the back.

Not hard, more a tap. But it was the first input of sensation since my guts had gone cold and hard when Carl had hung up on me.

"Travis? It's Travis, right?"

I didn't recognize the voice.

"Go away. Leave me the fuck alone!"

I curled up tighter, expecting a real kick to the back then. When it didn't come for a while, I relaxed. Then I heard the swing squeaking. I rolled onto my back to see why.

He was looking at me. He looked kind of hurt, or upset. Or something. I recognized him from school. He was in one of my classes. I didn't know his name. He looked like another freshman, or maybe a sophomore. He was swinging slowly, barely using his toes to move himself, keeping them in the same spot.

"It is Travis, right?" he asked, looking at me with that almost scared expression.

"Yeah. So?"

I sat up and wiped at my eyes, not even caring a bit that he could tell that I'd been crying. I just didn't fucking care.

"I saw," he said softly, then looked down at his shoes.


"What that jock said."

"So?" I barked. Like I said, I just didn't care anymore. So I went on with, "I'm a faggot. So what? You want to punch the faggot too? Make fun of me?"

He shook his head and didn't look up.

"Then what the fuck do you want? Watch the homo cry like a little girl?"

I wiped at my eyes again. I stood up.

"Get a good look before I leave."

I was angry now, finally feeling something.

He looked up. He looked so... I don't know. Like I'd insulted him, or hurt his feelings or something.

"I don't want to make fun of you, okay?"

He tried to sound mad, or sure, or strong, but he wasn't doing well at it. He almost looked like he was ready to cry, too.

"Then what the fuck do you want?"

He rocked slowly for a few seconds, then sighed, and sort of looked up at the sky for a moment. Then he looked at me.

He was kind of nice looking. No Chris or Brad or anything, but not bad at all. I'd noticed him before, like I mentioned. I'd noticed him because he had nice blond hair, and bright green eyes, and slight but dark-red lips, and dimples when he smiled the one time I'd seen him do so. He was slim, and probably an inch or so shorter than me. Cute. Just not totally hot. Not yet. I thought that in a couple years or so he would probably grow to be really hot, like Chris, if he worked out or something.

He looked right at me, and held my eyes with his, and said, "I'm a homo too."

My guts did a weird, twirly thing. They felt like they all flipped over and spun around once. Then I inhaled, finally. He looked back at his shoes and stopped swinging.

I waited. He kept looking at his shoes.


I'd barely gotten it out.

"I'm a homo."

He kept looking at his shoes. They were white Nikes with red trim and laces. And he had white socks. Light blue jeans. And a blue v-neck t-shirt. And he looked so normal.

"You... you're..."

He nodded, still looking at his shoes, and asked, "You are? Really? Not just being... made fun of, or something?"

I wasn't ready to say yes. Not even close. But I didn't want to say no, either. So I didn't say anything. He looked up at me. Then I simply had to! But I couldn't make myself say it. The best I could do was nod. And then I had to force myself to swallow. Then I started shaking.

I'd just admitted it!

He sort of grinned a little. Almost like that one time I'd seen him smile and laugh in school. It had been a joke by our teacher, a good one, too. The whole class laughed out loud. And I noticed that he had. And he'd looked way better laughing than he had ever before. And his smile right then was actually attractive. He looked so much better smiling than his usual dour, moody, near-frown that he always wore.

"Really?" he asked, looking so hopeful.

I sat down on the swing next to him. I nodded again.

His green eyes were really deep. And I saw how great his eyelashes were, all blond and heavy. And up close, his lips weren't so thin, and actually had a very nice shape to them.


He handed over my phone. I'd forgotten about it. And being reminded that I'd lost my best friend made me feel like crying again. The screen was cracked badly, and I doubted I could read anything, if it even worked. I held the phone for a minute, then hit the power button once. The screen lit up, but it was hard to read. I saw that Carl had called back about twenty minutes after he'd hung up on me. My first reaction was to hit redail, then I paused with my finger over that button on the screen. I didn't know what to do. I ended up hitting ignore. When you do that to a call, it asks if you want to ignore any more calls from that number. I hit yes, then put it away.

"Thanks," I said. "I would have left and never found it."

"No biggie," he said softly.

"Uh, did you see me throw it or something?"

He nodded.

"Did you follow me or something?"

He nodded.

He'd missed his last classes too. And I wondered why, until I remembered that he'd seen what Chris had said to me, and the others in the hallway. Then he'd followed me. All over town. For hours.

I blinked a few times as those facts settled in.

"You stalking me?" I asked, snickering.

He snickered too, then looked up at me.

"I wanted to make sure you didn't do something... uh... stupid."

I knew what he meant.

"Oh. Uh... thanks."


He returned to looking at his shoes.

I rocked back and held onto the chains and swung my legs once to get moving. I didn't know what to say next. He rocked and swung too.

We just swung for a while in total silence. The sun started setting over the trees, going red and orange and purple.

"I love sunsets when they get so colorful," he said softly.

"Yeah. And the traffic slows down and it gets quieter."


We were quiet for a while again. Then a mother arrived with her little boy. She gave us a quick look and then ignored us and took him to the slide. Then the merry-go-round, then the monkey bars. Then he said he wanted to swing. There were a couple other swings, but she didn't seem real keen on getting too close to us.

I saw that I was dusty and dirty, and wondered what my face looked like.

"I probably look awful," I said.

"You look like you've been crying in the dirt," he said gently, then snickered.

"That bad?"

I looked at him. He nodded, but grinned. Then made me feel completely warm all over by saying, "But still really cute."

"But I wanna swing!" the kid yelled.

"Come on," I said, and got up.

We walked to the far end of the park and I sat down on a bench. He sat next to me, almost at the far end of the bench. The water fountain was just a few feet away, so I got up and washed my face a bit. When I sat down, he laughed.


"You missed a bunch."

I rolled my eyes and got up. He followed, and put his hands under the running water and wiped my face. I started to use my shirt to dry, but he laughed again.

"What now?"

"You're shirt is dirtier than your face was. You just undid all that work!"

"Geeze," I groaned, rolling my eyes again.

He snickered weirdly, which made me ask, "Now what?"

He got red-faced and grinned so cutely, then said, "The way you roll your eyes. It's... uh..."

"What? Stupid?" I asked caustically.

"No! It's..." he sighed, then smiled wider, then said, "It's totally cute."

I didn't even think, I just rolled my eyes at the idea of anything I did being cute. And he laughed at it. His dimples showed up in full force. Damn it, so cute!

"You did that on purpose," he said, still giggling.

"No. Really."

"Sure," he said, not sounding convinced at all.

I almost rolled my eyes again. It was just habit, I guess. Instead, I sighed, then wiped at my face with my shirt again. He laughed when I was done, and said, "Now you look like you tried wearing brown make-up."

"Well, shit!"


He took my shirt and dunked it in the water, wrung it out, then used it like a rag to wipe my face clean. Then he washed it out, wrung it dry, and handed it back to me. Then he took off his shirt and offered it like a towel.

"Go ahead. Not a favorite or anything. And I didn't sweat into it or anything. It's mostly clean."

I took it and wiped at my face. I could smell the cologne he'd probably put on that morning, and something else that wasn't. It smelled clean, too, but there was something more. It had to be him. And I sort of liked it. It gave me tingles. And I started boning up.  I handed it back and tried to hold my shirt in front of me in some way that didn't seem like I was trying to hide a boner. I walked back to the bench and sat down with my shirt on my lap. He folded his shirt and laid it over his leg, smoothing it down sort of absently.

His hands were smooth. They moved almost gracefully. His fingers were long and slender. His nails were long, though they didn't stick over the ends of his fingers much. It was like his nails were really oblong or something. Now that I saw him without a shirt, he seemed long and narrow. Not very skinny or anything, I couldn't see his ribs, not quite, but there wasn't any fat anywhere. His stomach was flat with a cute little innie navel that was oval. And he had the tiniest, pinkest nipples.

He snickered, and I looked up at his face. He was sort of smiling, but like he was trying not to, which accented his dimples. I had to ask, "What?"

"Your phone takes pics, right?"

"Fuck you," I said, laughing.

"Mine does. Can I?"

He reached into his pocket.

"No way!" I said, grinning. "I probably look like shit!"

"You can't," he said, shaking his head.

"Can't what?"

"Look like shit. Even crying and covered in dust and dirt, you're hot."

His eyes went wide and he looked like he had just gotten caught pissing on a car by the big jock owner.

I felt myself blush like mad.

"Shit!" he said quickly. "I didn't mean that! I meant... I mean... I..." he suddenly looked upward and shook his head. Then looked back at me and said, "No, I did mean it." He sighed and then stared right at me, and said, "I think you're hot, Travis. Have since first day of school."

He was so red now that I wondered if he was going to start sweating next. Or shaking. Or what. And I felt my face go hotter and redder.

And I knew why he had followed me. It came so quickly and was so surprising, that I actually said, "Oh, shit!" before I thought not to.

"What?" he asked.

I didn't know what I should say. He kept looking at me with those big green eyes, and his cute little grin, and I couldn't stop myself.

"You like me, don't you?"

He got even redder. I mean, he was fucking red! From neck to ears! Red, red, red!

He nodded and looked back down at his feet. The side of his neck was red, right down to his collarbone. I saw him fight to swallow. He plucked at his shirt on his leg. I felt so bad for him! I just wanted to make him feel okay. And the fact that he liked me was simply amazing!

"I don't even know your name," I suddenly realized out loud.

"Owen. I know, sucks."

"Owen. No, not really. I kinda like it."

I did. It was simple and sweet.

"You'd probably love my middle name, then."

"What is it?"


"Owen Jasper. Not bad. What's your last name?"


"Owen, Jasper, Rawley."

It almost rang, like a chime, or a bell. It was great.

"What's yours?" he asked, looking back at me.

"Travis," I hesitated. I hated my middle name. But he hated his and I liked it, so..." Cooley, Parker."

"Travis, Cooley, Parker."

He grinned at me. It was a very nice grin. All wide and dimply. Gosh!

"So, Owen Jasper Rawley, you hate your middle name as much as I hate mine?"

"Probably, Cooley."

We laughed.


We laughed some more. He was really cute when he laughed. And I liked how he laughed. Especially his dimples.

"You laugh great," he said.

"You're reading my mind," I said.

"You were thinking that you had a great laugh?" he asked, looking very serious.

Then we cracked up.

Then his stomach growled.

"Sorry," he said, still giggling.

So cute!

"Starving?" I asked. And suddenly, I was. It was after dinner time. I wondered if my parents were worried. They hadn't called. I was rarely gone for dinner.

"Sure am. Skipped lunch today."

"I know! Fucking chicken-fried steak! That shit sucks!"

"No kidding! Why don't they just carve up and batter the old car tire right in front of us? Not like we don't know!"

"No shit!" I laughed.

"There's a great Mexican place a few blocks away. They have the best-"

"Steak burritos!" I finished for him.

"Yeah! And I love the hot peppers they make there!"

"With the sliced carrots?"


We stood up and began walking that way.

"Have you tried the red sauce? They make that there, too."

"Yeah! Got to have the red sauce with the burrito! And plenty of the hot carrots!"

"Yup! The green sauce is okay on the soft tacos, but not the burritos."

"Definitely the green for the tacos. And soft shells."

"No shit! Soft-shelled and extra sour cream."

"Oh my God! And don't forget a side of beans and cheese."

"Or fried tomatoes."

"Yes! No one likes them! Not even..."

Carl. I wonder if I'll bother calling him back. Wonder what he'll be like at school on Monday. I probably won't even seen him this weekend. That'd be a first. But he was a jerk. When I needed someone to talk to. He called back, but later. Probably thought about it and wanted to talk. Tough shit. He had his chance. I'll see what's what later. Let him stew. Asshole. Besides...

"Well, any of my friends. If I have any, now."

I tried to stay as happy as I had just been, but thinking about Carl and how my so-called friends had acted, it was hard not to get down.

"If they're assholes now, fuck 'em. Serious," he said smoothly. "Not friends if they can't handle that you're, well..."

"That I'm gay," I finished with a profound sigh.

I'm gay. And most of the school is going to think so now, after what Chris had said in the hall. But I could try playing it off, acting like it was just another bully making fun. Not real. I was sure it would blow over. Even my friends would get over it. Maybe. But it didn't matter so much after all. Now now.

"Yeah. You're a turd-burgler," he snickered.

"A butt pirate."

"A rump ranger."

"A..." I had looked at him then, ready to throw another cliche, but was stopped.

He was so cute. And his grin was so adorable. And he was walking next to me, shirtless, and not afraid of what I was. And he was one too. He'd followed me after the showdown with Chris, to make sure I didn't do anything rash, and probably more because he was worried about me. And attracted to me.

We were between buildings, in a narrow alley, and there wasn't anyone there but us. And I was overtaken by the desire to do so. The absolute need to.

I leaned toward him, hoping he didn't lean away. Instead, he leaned toward me.

Every muscle and fiber of my body lit up as our lips touched. And they went into smoking overload as our hands went around each other and pressed against our backs and we came together.

It was over far too soon. But we were already taking a huge risk even in that alley. We did it again, quickly, still in each others arms. Then we broke apart and giggled, red-faced.

"That was..." he said breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear, his dimples so deep they looked like they ran all the way through his cheeks.

"Fucking kick ass," I finished.

We stood there for a few seconds, then laughed again, then walked toward the street.

"Ever had their root beer?" I asked.

"The best root beer around!" he said gleefully. "Goes perfect with the hot sauces!"

"Yeah! I haven't been there for ages."

"Why not?"

Because my friends didn't like it as much as I do.

I shrugged.

"Well, we can go all the time," he said, grinning.

"I'd like that, Jasper."

He laughed. God, so cute!

"Me too, Cooley."



If you have read this story as well as Travis Gets Owned, I would really appreciate if you used the feedback page to let me know which one you preferred. Anything from a short, one liner saying which story you liked better, to a long, detailed one pointing out why you like the one do you. Consider it a way of offering a thanks for the story. If you want, you can include your email and I will reply if you do.

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