Soccer Team

I flew out over the summer and they put me through hell for two weeks. There were fourteen candidates, and as the days went on there were less and less of us as the others were weeded out over the period. Only three spots were open, and I was overjoyed to be the first pick.

They gave me a few days at home to finish out things there, and then I was on a plane back to England to practice. The other players put the three of us through hell that first week - after our first day of practice they held the three of us down and shaved our heads bald. We had to fetch them beer every time we went out drinking (which was nearly every night), do all the laundry, some of the cooking. They wouldn't even let us shower in the same room as them after practice, instead making us use this tiny little room and locker room so small that while we were in the shower me and the other two guys were constantly rubbing asses. That part wasn't too bad, admittedly...it kinda turned me on, and I wasn't the only one. We jacked off together in there all the time but never went any further.

As the months passed the hazing get less extreme, though. It was all good-natured anyway, they were just screwing with us, not trying to piss us off or anything. We spend all our time together on and off the field, and the practices were grueling. The only day we got off practice was Sunday, which was recovery day from getting as piss drunk as we did every Saturday night. To be honest, the drinking regimen was harder than the soccer practice.

The more I got to know my teammates the more I felt like I was at home. The guys became more and more like family to me - so much that I didn't really even think much about my parents or my friends at home anymore unless they called or wrote me. I liked it so much I wanted to stay here forever - I didn't ever want to get out of touch with them.

By the end of the summer I felt like I'd known all these people my whole life, and I really felt like I'd do anything for them. We'd integrated into the team well, and except for having to shower in that little room all the time the only hazing they still did was holding us down every once in awhile and shaving our heads.

I guess that was why at the end of the summer, after a particularly drunken night out, it wasn't that surprising when they brought the clippers out again. Two of the guys held me down and another pulled my shorts and shoes off, and then my pants. I was too drunk to do anything about it; I was seeing triple by that point and only vaguely aware of what was going on. In my haze I noticed they had the other guys stripped too and just laughed as they shaved my head bald. This time they went further, though, shaving my chest, stomach, arms, legs, and finally pubes and ass.

All that manhandling gave me a pretty big boner. I hadn't been laid since I got there, and the only sexual release I'd had was jacking off in the showers or the semi-sexual feeling when I scored a tough goal. When they flipped me back over my cock was laying flat against my belly, rock hard, and the guys just laughed.

I felt someone put something cold in my hand and move it toward my belly. I looked down a few times and finally managed to figure out that it was a knife! "What the hell?" I let out.

"It's time you finally became a full member of the team, bucko," one of them said. I couldn't even tell who it was, I was so far gone. "Time for you to cut your pipe off."

The three guys near me dropped their shorts and knelt down around me. One of them, Jack, I think, took my hand and held it to his crotch. His balls were there and all but there was absolutely nothing above it - no stub, no hole, just a little scar. I couldn't see it well because everything was so fuzzy. The others had me feel them up too, and it was all real. Not one of them had a dick. "Why..do you..."

"We all do, mate," Mikey said. "You go aroun' fucking every girl around, you don't have the fire in ye when ya play the game. You cut your cock off, all ye can do is play and play hard."

"But..." A hand went over my mouth.

"No 'buts', bucko. All of us did it, it's what makes us so good. Ye can be a team player and do it fer the team, or ye can be any other bloke on the street. Ye want to be on the team, yer cock has got to go." He took my hand and moved it so the knife pressed against the base of my cock.

"Cut it or go back to America, boy." I didn't want to go back. These guys had become my friends, my family, my life...I didn't know what the hell I'd do if I wasn't with them. The only future I could see was with the team, and if my penis was all that stood in the way...so be it.

"Do it, man," somebody said.

"Cut it off!"

I grabbed the end of my cock and held it in the air, then held the knife against it all the way at the base. They started chanting my name. This was where I wanted to be, where I belonged. These guys were my family. My dick kept me from being one of them, and at that moment, staring drunkenly at my cock with the all the dickless guys standing around me, I suddenly hated it. You keep me from being one of them, I thought, and with that, I pulled the knife.

It came off cleanly, and I fell back, my cock still in my hand. After that I don't remember a whole lot. I think I passed out pretty fast from the pain and the alcohol, but when I woke up I had the worst hangover ever. I just lay there with my eyes closed in bed and wished the headache would go away.

I found out later they'd had me on painkillers for three days, and when I finally got up I was sore as hell. My whole body was stubbly and aching and my crotch hurt like hell. I wasn't really sure the whole thing had happened, and freaked out a little when I first realized it had, but never did I think I did the wrong thing. They told me that right after I passed out the team doc, a loyal guy who knew what went on, fixed up my crotch the way it was supposed to be - they ran a new pisshole out beneath my balls and sealed off where my cock was after removing all the internal parts, so all I had was a little scar.

They made us sit out for two weeks while we healed, but after we started playing again it didn't take long to get back up to full speed. Running for the first time sure felt weird, with my balls bouncing a little inside my jock but no dick, and pissing sitting down took a little while to get used to.

The other thing that took no time at all was for me to get sexually frustrated. Even while I was healing I was dying to jack off or something. Frankly, if somebody had offered to fuck me up the ass I probably would have agreed to it. I didn't fully understand how much of a difference it made in my game until the first one I could really play in again.

I was so pissed off and pumped that when I went in I was about ready to kill the other team. I played harder then I ever had in my entire life, and when I managed to break a 1-1 tie with a last minute goal, I kid you not, came in my jock. The other guys laughed when we got back into the locker room and I took off my underwear, all sticky with cum. "That's the only way a player on this team gets to blow," they said.