By James Ivan
Isaac turned to take the ball, but a shoulder, large and padded with muscle, crashed into the side of his head, pitching him forward in the grass.
“Get up, Sheldon!” hollered the coach. “Get back in there!”
Getting back on his feet, Isaac fought to regain his balance. It had been Dean who rammed into him, and so it was no wonder he was seeing stars. Dean Salazar was a six-foot-four senior, easily over two hundred pounds, and a natural born athlete. He had been the star quarterback for the school’s varsity team going on two years now, and the current season had him at the top of his game.
“Watch yourself, twerp!” Dean said to Isaac, jogging away from him.
In a daze, Isaac stood in the middle of the field trying to make sense of what just happened to him. This was supposed to be a game of flag-football. Not tackle. It was gym class. Not football practice. He wasn’t even an athlete.
“Sheldon!” The coach’s voice scraped like sandpaper against his ears.
Isaac looked over, his eyes fluttering, to find a massive figure screaming at him from the sidelines. Coach Huxtable was a large, hairy man in a sleeveless shirt and gym shorts. He had a snarling, almost wolfish face and an attitude to match.
“What’re you doing standing there, Sheldon?” the coach said. “You’re letting your team down. GO GET THE BALL!”
A spurt of the coach’s saliva flew several feet midair and hit Isaac in the cheek. Isaac wanted to spit back at him, square in the eye. He wanted to say, It’s a stupid game, get over yourself. But what he actually said was, “Okay, I’m on it,” and stiffly jogged across the field to where a stampede of male
bodies were wrestling for the ball.
He was a coward about stuff like that, thinking one thing and saying another. He hated himself for it.
When the ball was launched skyward, sailing straight over his head, Isaac reached up to grab it, but he missed.
“Damn it, Sheldon!” one of his team members cried out. It was Ted Danielson, another senior who happened to play for the school’s baseball team. He was cocky, everyone knew, but he was a skilled runner and an even better outfielder. “You’re costing us the game, asswipe!”
“Yeah, way to go, douchebag,” said another guy—an archetypal surfer named Zack.
While Zack and Ted raced after the airborne football, followed by a horde of others, including Dean, who lobbed Isaac a smug look as he passed him—a look that said, You just can’t help being a twerp,
can you?—Isaac decided to hell with it, and stopped.
“How tall are you, Sheldon?” Coach Huxtable asked from the sidelines.
“Five-eight,” Isaac said, still fighting for breath.
“One thirty-five, I don’t know. Why?”
“You’re pathetic, Sheldon, you know that?” the coach said. “You’ll never make a team at this school. Not even JV.”
Isaac wheeled on him. “I don’t want to make any of the teams at this school. I don’t want to make any teams anywhere. I hate this! I hate sports—”
“Then why did you enroll in my advanced class for athletes?” the coach asked with a frustrated snort. “This class if for those who take athletics seriously and desire to excel in this school’s esteemed athletics programs. Why are you in this class if you don’t like sports, Sheldon?”
“I already told you. I messed up when signing up for classes last semester. I tried to drop this class, but the school won’t—”
“Pathetic, Sheldon,” Coach Huxtable said. “You’re pathetic!”
As the rest of the game went on, Isaac trudged away from the field and started for the locker room. He didn’t even ask for Coach Huxtable’s permission. He just left, crunching over the first crusty leaves of autumn and shielding his eyes from the October sun.
By the time he made it back to the changing station, Isaac opened his locker and began to undress. Even though the place was deserted, he glanced around nervously as he removed his shorts and his underwear. Normally, when all the other boys were in there changing, showering, applying deodorant and chatting, Isaac would take his time and busy himself with other things, like checking messages on his phone or re-reading a handout from another class. He would patiently wait until the other guys were on their way out before slipping out of his gym clothes and hitting the showers himself. He did this for a number of reasons, but the main one was that he didn’t want his fellow classmates to see him naked. It wasn’t because he didn’t like the way he looked when he was naked. Isaac was actually a relatively good-looking kid. He wasn’t handsome in the classical sense. Not in the way guys like Dean Salazar or Zack Brown or Ted Danielson were handsome. Isaac had what some of the girls in their class referred to as “geek” appeal—wisps of thick blond hair, probing brown eyes, and an endearing smile that, in its own way, registered as attractive.
No, the real reason he didn’t want his classmates to see him naked was because whenever he was in the locker room, he was always fighting an erection. The sight of guys like Dean and Ted and Zack and Patrick and Archie, all walking around with their dicks hanging out and playing practical jokes on each other by grabbing each other’s butts, or “goosing” one another, or even peeing on each other’s feet in the showers, made it especially difficult for Isaac to keep from getting excited. And while most of the guys in his class already knew, or at the very least ‘suspected,’ that he was gay, Isaac didn’t want to confirm their suspicions by popping a boner while showering with them. It would be far too embarrassing to recover from—he'd have to transfer schools, change his name, move out of state, or something else dramatic. And he was already less than a year away from graduating. He just had to hold out a little longer.
A glimpse of himself in the sidelong mirror forced him to consider Coach Huxtable’s comments down on the field along with the insults of Dean, the star quarterback. “You’re pathetic, Sheldon!”“Way to go, twerp!”
It wasn’t the first time Isaac had heard the words “pathetic” and “twerp” directed at him. He had always been small for his age, and he had always been terrible at sports. Most of the boys at his school were either deeply involved in athletics, or else they had conformed to more socially acceptable groups like the “gamers” or the “goths.” But Isaac didn’t fit in with either of those.
He was one of the only gay kids at Saint Altair High. There were only two boys in the whole school who were “out,” so to speak. The first was a socially awkward kid named Kurt and the second was a male cheerleader named Dexter. And neither of them put a positive spin on the whole “gay” thing. But while Kurt and Dexter were open about their sexuality, Isaac wasn’t. He was still very much in the closet, though most of his peers, and indeed many of his teachers, had an inkling as to what team he really played for.
Last year, Isaac got caught staring at Archie Steiner’s penis while they were getting dressed in the locker room. Archie was one of the linemen for Saint Altair’s football team and he had anger issues. He looked like a gangster-in-the-making: a crooked nose, a scar on his cheek like a stitched shoestring. He always seemed in need of a shave. And he growled and he swore and he was an all-around merciless guy.
For example, when Archie spotted Isaac eyeing him that day, he pinned him against the lockers, ready to knock his teeth out. “Quit staring at my dick, faggot!” he said, rattling Isaac by the throat. “I’ll kill you if I ever catch your eyes on me again! Got it?” Isaac nodded quickly and Archie released him. This momentary act of violence was met with a whirlwind of laughter from all the other guys in the room, most of them clapping Archie on the back and cracking jokes: “Ooooh, Archie, you got a secret admirer...” and “How cute, Archie’s gotta boyfriend...” and “Ha. Ha. The gay kid’s got a crush on Archie!” To which Archie told them all to fuck off.
Now, alone in the locker room, Isaac hurried over to the shower stalls and turned on the nozzle closest to him. He spent a couple minutes rubbing a bar of soap over his body and running shampoo through his hair. Just enough to wash away the grime and the sweat. He was just finishing up when the door to the locker room flew open and in stepped Dean Salazar and Zack Brown. They were laughing.
Shit, Isaac thought, gym class must have ended early!
“Come on, man,” Zack was saying, sniggering under his breath, “where’d you get it?”
“Fuckin’ chill out,” said Dean. “You want Coach to overhear?”
Standing there naked beneath the spray of the shower, Isaac listened to their giddy but hushed tones, thinking nothing of it at first. He heard the two of them unlocking their individual lockers and rummaging through their gym bags and school books. Isaac was quickly trying to think of a way he could towel off and step out to his own locker without drawing their attention. He was vulnerable to harassment and ridicule as it was, and being naked only worsened his chances of being bullied.
He was just about to turn off the shower water when even more guys staggered in through the locker room door, hooting and hollering.
“Dude, I’m sweating like a pig,” said one guy. By the sound of his voice, Isaac guessed it was
Patrick Muskazi. Patrick was a soccer player and an all-around nice guy. But he was easily influenced by the popular kids—especially alpha jocks like Dean Salazar and Archie Steiner.
“Yeah, take a shower,” came another voice. “You’re stinkin’ up the place.”
“It’s the boys’ locker room – it always stinks!”
The clatter of opening and closing gym lockers and a whirlwind of male voices filled the room. Isaac stayed beneath his stream of shower water, cursing himself for getting caught with his pants down— literally. He stared down at his feet, hoping that none of the other guys in his class would notice him.
“Okay, fellas.” The booming voice of Coach Huxtable echoed in the locker room. Isaac sighed, feeling more exposed than ever. He hated Huxtable. The man played favorites and tended to pick on the weaker, less athletically inclined students (a.k.a. Isaac). “Next week we wrap up the football unit and start in on basketball. I expect you all to bring your A-game to class. And as for—” He paused, and Isaac had the distinct impression he was looking around for something. Or someone. “Wait, where’s that little runt... Where’s Sheldon?”
Isaac froze. He was occupying the showerhead just behind the wall that separated the showers from the changing station. Neither the coach nor his classmates could see him from that angle.
“Ah well,” Coach Huxtable said, “I’ll find him later. Don’t forget, gentlemen... Next week: A-game!”
The announcement was over and the storm of male voices swelled again. Isaac breathed a small sigh of relief and then quickly tried to come up with a game plan on how he could slip out of the shower room, grab a towel, and cover himself with it before anyone took notice of him. Just the sound of his classmates’ deep, male tones was frustrating him...physically speaking. He needed to conceal himself fast. This option, though, became impossible when half the class crowded into the shower room with him. Several guys decided to hang out by the room's only exit, which prevented him from leaving unnoticed. The only way he’d be able to get past them is if he awkwardly asked to be let through, naked and dripping. And that was simply out of the question.
“Oh hey, it’s Sheldon.” Gordon Stevenson, a basketball player who Isaac had known since grade school, stepped up to the spot next to him. Gordon was a nice guy for the most part. He never made fun of Isaac, not even when the other jocks like Dean and Zack decided to make a festival of it. But then again, he never stood up for Isaac either. “We thought you left for the day, man.”
Isaac shrugged and focused on his feet. “I just needed to be alone for a bit, I guess.”
“Try not to let Coach bother you too much,” Gordon said, rotating the nozzle and unleashing a spray of water from his own showerhead. He bowed his head into it and sighed. “He’s all grit, no cushion. You just gotta let it roll off ya.”
Isaac nodded, though without understanding. He was doing his best of avoid staring at Gordon’s genitals, which hung between his legs in a glorious display of masculinity. The way the streams of water ran over his patch of pubic hair, the way it beaded on the tip of his uncut member like glistening pearls and then dripped on the floor...
It was too much for Isaac to bear. Gordon turned a full circle beneath the shower spout, letting the water douse him completely. Isaac nearly gasped when he caught a glimpse of the basketball player’s bare ass. It was one of those perfectly shaped male butts, sculpted from years of physical exercise.
Gordon’s girlfriend was one lucky lady, Isaac thought, briefly thinking about Tasha Lakman—a cheerleader who has been dating Gordon off-and-on for nearly three years.
Quickly, Isaac’s eyes snapped back to his feet. If he could just focus on looking down until everyone else was done showering, then maybe he could...
“Welp, see ya next class, man!” Gordon said, switching off the water and padding out of the shower room.
One by one, Isaac waited it out. Kenny and Rodger finished showering and headed back to their lockers to towel off and get dressed. Then Max. Then Ted, the baseball player, followed them out. Soon it was only Isaac and a guy named Mitch who were left. Mitch was a husky fella and a mostly quiet guy. But he was a damn good snowboarder from what everyone said about him. Isaac didn’t know him that well, but from the way he lazily let the shower water wash over him, from the way he slowly lathered his skin with soap, getting all the important body parts—pits, groin, in between his butt cheeks—it became clear that Mitch was a low-key, casual guy, and that Isaac would be waiting a very long time before he finished.
Okay, Isaac thought, time to go.
He shut off the water and barefooted it out of the shower room, heading directly for the towel rack. But as fate would have it, Dean Salazar and Zack Brown were blocking his path to it. Not intentionally, of course. They were engaged in a low volume discussion about something, and the moment Isaac approached them, they stopped.
“Beat it, twerp,” Dean snapped. “This is a private conversation.”
“I need a towel.” Isaac took a step toward the towel rack, but his only opening was to go directly through the quarterback and the would-be surfer. And, just as Isaac expected, they didn’t let him.
“You cost us the game today, asshole,” Zack said, putting himself between Isaac and the towels, baring his teeth like fangs, “so I don’t think you deserve a towel. In fact, I don’t think you deserve to dry off at all. Now, go change into your clothes and spend the rest of the day soaking wet, you little prick.”
“Look at him, he does have a little prick!” said Ted from several feet away. The baseball player, still toweling off, pointed a finger at Isaac, drawing everyone’s attention to his nakedness. Several of the other guys laughed.
Isaac was covering himself now and feeling suddenly more vulnerable than ever. He was stark naked and sopping wet and cold (which explained the seemingly small size of his penis at the moment), whereas all the other guys were already in the process of pulling on their boxer shorts and jeans. Those who were still on their way to the showers—Dean and Zack, for instance—had towels around their waists. Only Isaac was baring all.
“Come on,” Isaac said. “I just want a towel and then I’ll be on my way.” He made a grab for one, but Zack knocked his hand away.
“Nuh-uh,” he said in a song-songy voice. “Only athletes get towels.”
Isaac rolled his eyes and sighed. Without realizing it, his gaze settled on a small but very noticeable bulge in Zack’s towel. In fact, there was an opening in the towel through which the bottom of his scrotum was visible. Isaac zeroed in on it, mesmerized.
“Hey, what’re you looking at?” Zack growled. Isaac stiffened. He took a few steps back, afraid that the would-be surfer was about to lay into him with several punches. But then Dean placed a calming hand on Zack’s shoulder.
“Dude, chill out.” There was an eerie silence that followed. “Maybe Sheldon isn’t so bad.”
Confused, both Isaac and Zack looked up at the quarterback, who was smiling broadly. Clearly they’d misheard him.
“What?” both of them said in harmony.
“All I’m saying is,” Dean went on, his smile twisting up a little at the corner, “perhaps we were too quick to judge the little twerp.” The quarterback was focusing his attention on Zack at this point, sending him some kind of signal through his gaze and through his tone. “Maybe we ought to start being nicer to him, you know. The kid can’t help it that he’s gay.”
Zack stared at Dean for a long time, struggling to read him.
Isaac balled his hands into tight fists. “I’m not gay,” he lied.
The six-foot-four quarterback shot him a condescending look. “Come on, Sheldon,” he said, “be honest. You love dick. Just admit it.”
“I don't love—”
Dean reached down and loosened the tuck of his towel. It dropped pathetically to the floor and revealed his impressive girth, which dangled between his thighs like a ripe cluster of low-hanging
fruit. Isaac’s eyes snapped open at the unexpected sight.
“Come on,” Dean said. “Say it.”
Beside the quarterback, Zack’s eyes widened.
“Dude, Salazar, what’re you—”
“If you say it,” the quarterback continued, narrowing his gaze on Isaac and ignoring Zack, “I’ll take you into the shower room and, I don’t know, let you play with it. If you want. But you gotta say it. You gotta say you love dick.”
Isaac felt his mouth fill with water. He felt a teasing sensation in his groin. He knew this was all a trick. Some kind of deceitful scheme to get him to admit to being gay. Once Dean and his cronies had confirmation, they would be able to make fun of him relentlessly. Maybe they were even filming this.
“Forget it,” Isaac said. But what he wanted to say was, Yes, please!
He started to maneuver around the nude quarterback and reached again for a towel. But Dean slung an arm around Isaac’s shoulders, much in the way a boyfriend would with his girlfriend, and steered him back into the shower room. Zack trailed closely behind them, still visibly confused.
“Come on, Sheldon,” the quarterback said, “I’m giving you the chance of a lifetime. The chance to touch some real nice dick. I gotta big one. Look, I’ll even sweeten the deal...”
Dean gave Zack a look and, apparently catching on to what his friend was doing, the would-be surfer handed him a small vial filled with a bright blue liquid. The quarterback popped the vial's cork with his thumb.
“You know what this stuff is?” he asked, waving the vial in front of Isaac.
The vial glistened in the light coming through the small windows up near the ceiling. Isaac stared at it in surprise.
“Yeah,” he said. “It’s Jock Cock. And it’s illegal.”
Dean shrugged. “Things are only illegal if you get caught. And seeing as most of the guys in this room have either used Jock Cock before, or want to use it in the future, I doubt anyone’s gonna mind if you and I toss back a little.”
At this point, Zack was getting antsy. “Dude,” he said, looking around as though Coach Huxtable might walk in at any moment, “I thought you were planning to use this at the party this weekend. You know, because chicks will be there...”
Dean lobbed a look in Zack’s direction. “Yeah, but gay guys are easier. They don’t have to be coerced like chicks do.”
“I’m not gay,” Isaac said. He could feel his face reddening, either from anger or embarrassment or arousal. Or perhaps from all three. He knew what Jock Cock was. He knew what it did to a guy’s penis. He had seen plenty of videos online. And he also knew why the drug had been outlawed.
“Yeah, but come on...” Zack said, appealing to the quarterback. “If you had the choice between a dude and a chick, wouldn’t you want the chick? I mean, what dude wants to cream another dude?”
Isaac knew that word. Cream. It was a specific word associated with jockcocking. It referred to semen. And not just the semen that came as a result of a male orgasm. It’s what happened to a person when they were victims of jockcocking. Dean was planning to ‘cream’ him, wasn’t he? Isaac was in serious danger. He turned to leave, but Dean caught him by the arm.
“Hey now.” The quarterback smiled at him. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re about to have some fun.”
Isaac frowned at him. “I think you’re about to have some fun.”
“Yeah? Say that again after you catch of whiff of this.”
Dean swirled the blue liquid in the vial and drank it down. A long, curious silence followed where Isaac and Zack stood by, watching the quarterback as he made small expressions of intrigue, surprise, pleasure, and perhaps even a little pain. Isaac’s gaze flicked down to Dean’s genitals, which after only a few moments seemed to be pulsing and twitching with the first signs of male erection. The veins in his penis’s shaft throbbed as more blood flowed into them. His scrotum seemed to be filling up with something heavy from the inside—its thin skin stretching tighter and tighter. Suddenly, Dean Salazar’s penis swelled to five times its normal size, like a sponge that had been abruptly immersed in warm water. It began to thrash around, reminding Isaac of a large fish being reeled up by a fishing line, and caused Dean to cry out in a combination of overwhelming sensation and surprise.
Isaac and Zack stepped back, clearing some room for the quarterback’s rapidly expanding member. Mitch, who was still showering, looked back to see what the all commotion was. The sound of Dean groaning drew the attention of the other guys in the locker room and, gradually, they began crowding into the showers to see what was happening.
“Holy shit,” one of them said. “Is Salazar jockcocking?”
“Dude, he’s jockcocking!”
A few of the guys put fists to their mouths to stifle laughter. Both Ted and Gordon stepped up to where Isaac and Zack were standing, gazing on in wonder as Dean Salazar’s cock swelled larger and larger and larger. The quarterback’s groans went on as his rapidly swelling appendage writhed and flailed, taking up more than a third of the shower room. Beneath it, Dean’s scrotum swelled like a massive water balloon.
In all, Dean's genitals grew until they rivaled the size of an SUV, and all the guys in the room gasped with astonishment. His penis was a massive piece of flesh now, blubbery and glistening in the steamy heat of the shower room. It steadily expanded and retracted, as if it were breathing, as if it were a creature separate from his own body. Underneath him, his balls were no longer balls—they were boulders. Giant boulders encased in a fleshy, hair-ridden sack.
At this point, Dean had finally stopped groaning. He sighed, letting his shoulders relax, and turned his gaze in the direction of his audience. “That was bitchin’ intense,” he said.
He was instantly bombarded with a series of questions.
“Dude, what’s it like?”
“How does it feel?”
“Where the hell did you get Jock Cock?”
“Why the fuck would you go and do that here, in school?”
Dean held up his hand to silence them. “Shut up,” he said, “and let me enjoy this for a minute.”
The quarterback’s penis was monstrous in its form. It continued to steadily expand and retract—breathing— and it swayed slightly from right to left, then back again, like a giant serpent taking in its environment.
“Mmmmm...” Dean Salazar moaned, closing his eyes in pleasure. “You boys have no idea how good this feels.”
At about that moment, they all started wrinkling their noses. The boys’ locker room had always had a musky odor. The smell of armpits and feet and groins was unmistakable. It was just how it was. But with the massively increased size of Dean Salazar’s cock and balls, the normally tolerable smell of musk was now eye-watering. Most of the guys were trying to fan a hole in it with their hands. Even from a few feet away, the heat his cock threw off was intense. Isaac didn’t mind any of it.
“What’s it like, man?” asked Patrick.
“Well,” Dean began, “I’m horny as fuck now.”
This received a few chuckles from his all-male audience.
“See? I told you that you should have waited for the party this weekend.” Zack frowned, expressing his clear disappointment in Dean's decision. But this only seemed to remind Dean why he drank the Jock Cock in the first place. The quarterback’s deep brown eyes snapped to Isaac.
“You like this, don’t you, Sheldon?” Dean reached down to pet his enormous shaft. “This do anything for you?”
Isaac, suddenly remembering that he was naked, reached down to cover himself. He was getting aroused, and he hated himself for it. He didn’t want all the other guys to see. His face went red. A quick glance at the other guys showed him that he was alone in his nakedness, aside from Dean Salazar, of course. Patrick, who was standing off to his left, was in a pair of pin-striped boxer shorts, Gordon was likewise dressed in boxers and also an undershirt, Ted was wearing boxer-briefs, and Zack and Mitch had towels wrapped snugly around their waists. Everyone was covered except for him. And if Archie Steiner was anywhere around, he couldn’t see him. The beefy eighteen-year-old was probably back at the changing station.
“Yeah, I bet he likes it,” Ted Danielson called from somewhere behind him. Isaac flared. Sometimes he hated Ted more than Dean and Archie and Zack combined. The baseball player was always relentless in his mockery of him.
“Come over here,” Dean said, waving a hand at Isaac. “You can touch it if you want to, Sheldon. Don’t be afraid.”
“Yeah,” Ted said, snickering, “go on and touch it, Sheldon.”
Isaac looked up at Dean Salazar defiantly. He planted his feet firmly on the tiled floor, legs spread slightly apart, hands covering his groin. Everything inside him wanted to go over and do exactly what Dean and Ted were pressuring him to do. He didn’t just want to touch Dean’s enormous beast-of-a-cock, he wanted to burrow into it, breathe it in, lick it, climb onto it, grind up against it. His gay teenage body was producing so many hormones, so much testosterone, that he almost couldn’t think straight anymore. There was a giant penis laid out in front of him like a roast for dinner, and his mouth was watering for it.
But no, Isaac knew better. He knew what this was about. Dean Salazar was as hetero as they come. He wasn’t suddenly in the mood to be nice to Isaac, letting him cop a feel of his manhood. He wanted to cream him. He wanted to use Isaac for his own masturbatory purposes—literally.
“No.” Isaac turned and pushed his way through Patrick and Gordon and Mitch, who were all standing there, confused but curious about what was going on. He was almost out of the shower room when Ted grabbed him by the wrist.
“Let go,” Isaac said.
“Nah.” The baseball player was dragging him back into the room towards Dean, and to his surprise, Isaac was letting him. “You’re a fag, aren’t you?” Ted hissed a laugh through his teeth. “Well, here’s a big meaty dick for ya!”
The baseball player gave Isaac a shove in the quarterback’s direction and, slipping and sliding across the slick tiles of the shower room floor, Isaac smacked right into Dean’s cock. A few guys chuckled, but strangely, Isaac didn’t mind. He just stood there, face planted into the side of Dean’s colossal sex organ, inhaling deeply. The potency of the quarterback’s musk was giving him a kind of high. And just as Dean and Ted had said, he loved it.
“There you go,” Dean said, a smug grin spreading across his face. “See, I knew you’d like it.”
Somebody behind him—most likely Ted—said, “Faggot.” Several of the guys were failing to suppress their laughter at this point. Isaac hated them. He hated all of them suddenly. But he knew deep down that they were right. He was a faggot. He loved dick. He wanted to suck dick. He wanted to smell dicks. He wanted other boys to put their dicks in his butt.
Dick was all he ever thought about. “That’s right.” Isaac spun around, facing them. His erection was plain as day. “I’m gay. So what? I like dudes and I like their cocks and I don’t care what you think.”
Amidst expressions of surprise and disgust and barely suppressed laughter, he turned his attention back to Dean Salazar’s automobile-sized penis. He didn’t know what had come over him. Maybe the smell of Dean’s junk had increased the dopamine in his brain, giving him a surge of courage or something. Whatever it was, he knew that he wanted more of that giant cock. He needed more of it. Gay porn on the internet wasn’t enough for him anymore. He needed this!
Isaac embraced the enormous piece of flesh, though he wasn’t able to grab onto it because it was too slick from the room’s humidity. It was like a giant pool innertube that, once wet, was impossible to climb onto. He moved closer to the head of the penis, pressing into its fat form, relishing in its heat, taking pleasure in its smell.
“Yeah,” came Dean’s rumbling voice, “be proud of who you are, Sheldon. Don’t worry about what these assholes think of you...”
Isaac could still detect the little snickers and hisses of laughter coming from behind him. But he chose to focus his attention on Dean’s massive, bloated member. He had made his way up to the head of the quarterback’s cock, but only peripherally. He wouldn’t allow himself to stand directly in front of it. He knew what could happen to a person who got directly in front of a Jock Cocked penis.
Evidently sensing Isaac’s cautiousness, Dean said, “Why don’t you give my pee-hole a kiss there, Sheldon.” He held up a hand, hushing a few of the guys from squealing with laughter from the sidelines. “My pisser could really use some tender-love-and-care right now.”
Isaac shot Dean a look. “I’m not an idiot, Dean,” Isaac said. “I know what happens when—”
Without even realizing it, Isaac’s hand glided over the quarterback’s massive cockhead. His fingers thoughtlessly slipped over the slit of the penis, which was a mistake. A slip-up. He hadn’t meant to put his hand in such a vulnerable and dangerous spot. But suddenly, without warning, his hand was slurped inside. It was like the suction of a vacuum, only wet, and less of a rush of air than a squelch of mucus- glazed flesh.
Instinctively, Isaac tried to pull his hand out of the large slit, but the internal muscles of Dean’s urethra had a tight grip on him.
“Uh-oh.” The quarterback’s face cracked into a wide, salacious grin. He craned his neck, faking concern. “Are you stuck there, Sheldon?”
Isaac grabbed his wrist with his other hand and heaved with all his might. But his hand only seemed to sink deeper into the quarterback’s shaft. It was as though the muscles were pulling him inside.
“Let me go, Dean.”
Dean Salazar was clicking his tongue. “Sorry,” he said. “But I don’t think I can. You see, my cock is pretty hungry, Sheldon. And sadly, it appears you’ve gotten too close.”
Isaac was vaguely aware of guys like Ted and Zack and Patrick sniggering somewhere over his shoulder. His left arm was now elbow-deep, and the first flutters of panic took hold of him. He was scrabbling backward, doing everything in his power to yank his arm free.
“Seriously, Dean,” he said, trying not to sound desperate, “let me go.”
Reactively, Isaac reached into the quarterback’s pee-hole with his other hand, hoping to pry his left arm loose. But this proved to be a grave mistake. The moment his other hand went inside, it too was lost to the slurping clutches of Dean’s penis. Isaac dug his feet into the tiled floor as much as he could to prevent Dean’s cock from pulling any more of him inside, but he had no traction. The floor was too slippery. He resorted to crumpling to his knees and falling back on his butt in an effort to escape—all to no avail.
Now, with both arms wedged inside the quarterback’s cock, Isaac was seemingly helpless. Dean’s shaft expanded slightly, as if it was taking a deep breath, and suddenly Isaac was slurped in up to his armpits. It was like Dean’s penis was gulping him down bit by bit—its muscles working like a throat, his pee-hole functioning like a slimy maw. Isaac lifted his chin, as one does to keep their head above water. The panic in his eyes was never more apparent. But never once did he call for help. He did not scream, he did not cry. He didn’t shout for Coach Huxtable or anyone else to come to his rescue. And the really curious thing—the thing that all the boys who were watching immediately took notice of—was that Isaac had a boner.
A stiff, raging boner wobbling in between his legs.
“Dude, maybe you should let him go...” said someone over Isaac’s shoulder. It sounded like Gordon.
“Shut up.” Dean was hyper-focused now. He was leaning forward on his cock, his hips thrusting slightly, his strong, runner’s ass rotating from side to side. Every now and then, he would release a
low, pleasurable groan that indicated he was experiencing something amazing.
At that point, Isaac’s arms had vanished completely from view. His shoulders, even the bristling hair of his pits, had been swallowed up by Dean’s cock. Isaac was craning his neck as far back as he could, trying to keep his head from going in next. But as the enormous penis slurped more and more of him inside, he couldn’t hold out any longer. The suction was too strong. The cock’s lips slackened and yawned; the slimy passage opened up before him.
At that point, Isaac found himself staring deep into the abyss—a tunnel of blackness, padded with thick muscle and slime. It reeked of urine and semen—the unmistakable musk of a man.
Isaac’s head was slurped up instantly, and everything went dark. Now, the boys who were crowding around the scene began to lean forward in astonishment, in intrigue, in disgust. Everything from Isaac’s nipples to his head was engulfed in Dean Salazar’s cock. Most of them had never seen such a thing in person, though the idea of jockcocking wasn’t an unknown thing to them.
“Dude...” Gordon said, shaking his head. “Dude...”
“Hoooooooly shiiiiiiiit...” Patrick Muskazi’s eyes were as big as his gaping mouth. Caught inside the tip of Dean’s penis, Isaac was still fighting to pull himself free. He was lurching backward, his bare feet smacking against the tiled floor, his whole body wriggling like an animal caught in a snare. Still, his erect penis bobbed stiffly, never once going flaccid.
“Oooooh fuuuuuuuuck!” Dean said, throwing his head back and groaning on the word ‘fuck.’ It was the kind of groan a guy makes when he’s in the throes of great sex.
The slit of his penis yawned again and took in more of Isaac’s body. It was, for the rest of the guys, almost like watching a snake devour its prey—a python gobbling up a rat. Isaac, squirming and wriggling, was being pulled into the quarterback’s penis inch by inch. He was going in at a dive, his hands stretched longways over his head, fingers-first, his whole body streamline like a missile.
“Dude...” Zack said, watching as the opening of Dean’s cock closed over Isaac’s torso, over his bellybutton, over the small of his back. “This is some fucked up shit.”
Dean launched his head back, growling in ecstasy. Clearly, the sensation of slurping someone up with your penis was incredible. Now, with only Isaac’s lower-half visible, Dean’s enormous cock began gulping at him with more gusto. Isaac was still fighting to pull himself free—jerking this way and that, his feet slipping over the tiled floor in pathetic resistance. At one point, he kicked out his legs to prevent his hips from being sucked in, which inadvertently gave the roomful of spectators the perfect view of his anus and dangling ballsack. He slapped his feet down several times, perhaps to say, HELP ME, or, I CAN’T BREATHE!
No one made a move to stop Dean, though. No one stepped in. All the guys in the shower room seemed to be intrigued with what was happening, and curious to find out what was coming next.