It was just Scott Rexley and Pete Leighton in the locker room where they were serving their Saturday detention, Scott for a Senior prank involving a goat, the principal's Volkswagen and a box of laxatives that went horrible wrong and Pete for not the part he unknowingly played in said prank.
Scott was the undisputed big man on campus, only turned 18 three months ago and already was built like Henry Cavill with looks to match and a prick between his legs exceeded in size only by the one between his shoulders. So it's no wonder he's dating the head cheerleader and regularly banging half the girls, of legal age, at this school, and took a college tour a week ago where he reportedly fucked his way through Sorority Row.
Pete was 5 and a half feet of pure geek. Scrawny, badly dressed, walked funny and always had an excuse to get out of gym class. Even if he worked out, dressed better and didn't walk like he had a wedgie, he'd still be a total geek.
Pete and Scott were made to clean the men's locker room every Saturday until graduation for Scott's stunt, which wasn't entirely fair given how Pete didn't even realize he was signing something that'd make him responsible for the goat that Scott rented. Pete was cleaning one of the shower heads in the stalls when he noticed that Scott wasn't even in the room. Pete looked around and saw the door leading to the weight room open.
Scott was lifting the free weights in front of the mirror, barechested as his hairy pecs heaved as he breathed, sweat dripping down his ripped eight-pack abs, just as hairy as his pecs. He literally looked like a young Henry Cavill with present-day Cavill's body. His jeans clung tightly to his perfect ass, perfect legs and fat bulge. While Pete's never seen it, it's been said to be the biggest in the school. There was also a rumor that when he was up at a college tour, he was challenged to a dick-measuring contest by the president of the chapter of Scott's dad's old fraternity. Rumor was Scott won by literally three inches and that the prize for winning was literally fucking every dude in the contest. Rumor was that since Scott's been fucking his teammates' girlfriends, of legal age that is, and made their boyfriends watch... and then fucked them! Pete could believe it. Scott's always been like this.
"The fuck you lookin' at, you little bitch?"
Scott's deep voice echoed as he caught Pete's glance in the mirror.
"We're not here to work out. You remember why we're here, right?"
"YOU'RE not here to work out, obviously."
"We're in this mess because of you. The least you can do is help clean."
"Please! My being here is just an act. I mean, who's here to make sure we're doing anything? And if it's not 100% clean by Monday, it's no skin off my ass."
By this point, he'd put the weights down and began to move towards Pete, who he promptly threw aside on his way to the showers. "At least use the one on the far end," Pete said. "I've already cleaned the rest."
Naturally, Scott walked over to the nearest stall and began to take off his shoes, socks, pants and underwear. Despite his arms, legs and chest, his ass and back were perfectly smooth, though no less hard and sinewy. He turned around to show Pete his soft yet powerful cock. As the hot water hit his body, the fat prick began to swell and harden. It must have been almost 10 inches long.
"Like what you see? Well, get a good look, because you'll NEVER have a body like this," Scott taunted as he began to flex and stroke his hard cock. He then leaned against the side of the stall and began to fervently beat his beefy cock. "Don't go anywhere. I like it when someone watches." Pete began to walk over to the stall he was cleaning when Scott bellow. "What did I just say? Get back here NOW, BITCH!" Pete complied. He hated dealing with guys like Scott, or at least guys at most a distant second to Scott. Guys who thought a killer bod and massive prick made them alpha males, entitled to screw any girl they wanted and fuck with any guy they wanted. Guys who thought power was measured in how much you can bench press or how many chicks you fuck. Guys who thought there was no one else who could measure up to them and acted like they were special. Pete wanted to do something. Anything. But what could he do?
"Hey, you little creeper! You like watching guys in the shower? Huh? You probably rub your nub to the thought of guys fucking your bony ass, cumming in your ass again and again. Not me. Men don't get fucked. Men fuck. Bitches get fucked!"
He turned off the water and headed to his backpack, still dripping wet and pulled a measuring tape out. "Let me tell you how a man is measured." He measured his still-rock-hard shaft, base to tip, and then measured it around, at the base, middle and just beneath the head. He went over to the white board the coach used for illustrating plays. He wrote down the length, and then he added the last three measurements and divided by three. And then he wrote...
ME: 10 3/16" X 8 2/8"
YOU:
And then he grabbed Pete. He took off Pete's shoes and socks. Then ripped off Pete's shirt, revealing a body like a Party City skeleton decoration covered in skin. He then pulled down Pete's pants, underwear included, and froze. Pete grabbed the measuring tape and measured his dick as Scott did, and then wrote down his length and girth measurements, but not before erasing the "ME" Scott wrote, Pete's fully-erect manhood veiny and purple twitching with anticipation and what asshole alpha males like Scott considered power.
SCOTT: 10 3/16" X 8 2/8"
A REAL MAN: 13" X 9 7/8"
Scott was the undisputed big man on campus, only turned 18 three months ago and already was built like Henry Cavill with looks to match and a prick between his legs exceeded in size only by the one between his shoulders. So it's no wonder he's dating the head cheerleader and regularly banging half the girls, of legal age, at this school, and took a college tour a week ago where he reportedly fucked his way through Sorority Row.
Pete was 5 and a half feet of pure geek. Scrawny, badly dressed, walked funny and always had an excuse to get out of gym class. Even if he worked out, dressed better and didn't walk like he had a wedgie, he'd still be a total geek.
Pete and Scott were made to clean the men's locker room every Saturday until graduation for Scott's stunt, which wasn't entirely fair given how Pete didn't even realize he was signing something that'd make him responsible for the goat that Scott rented. Pete was cleaning one of the shower heads in the stalls when he noticed that Scott wasn't even in the room. Pete looked around and saw the door leading to the weight room open.
Scott was lifting the free weights in front of the mirror, barechested as his hairy pecs heaved as he breathed, sweat dripping down his ripped eight-pack abs, just as hairy as his pecs. He literally looked like a young Henry Cavill with present-day Cavill's body. His jeans clung tightly to his perfect ass, perfect legs and fat bulge. While Pete's never seen it, it's been said to be the biggest in the school. There was also a rumor that when he was up at a college tour, he was challenged to a dick-measuring contest by the president of the chapter of Scott's dad's old fraternity. Rumor was Scott won by literally three inches and that the prize for winning was literally fucking every dude in the contest. Rumor was that since Scott's been fucking his teammates' girlfriends, of legal age that is, and made their boyfriends watch... and then fucked them! Pete could believe it. Scott's always been like this.
"The fuck you lookin' at, you little bitch?"
Scott's deep voice echoed as he caught Pete's glance in the mirror.
"We're not here to work out. You remember why we're here, right?"
"YOU'RE not here to work out, obviously."
"We're in this mess because of you. The least you can do is help clean."
"Please! My being here is just an act. I mean, who's here to make sure we're doing anything? And if it's not 100% clean by Monday, it's no skin off my ass."
By this point, he'd put the weights down and began to move towards Pete, who he promptly threw aside on his way to the showers. "At least use the one on the far end," Pete said. "I've already cleaned the rest."
Naturally, Scott walked over to the nearest stall and began to take off his shoes, socks, pants and underwear. Despite his arms, legs and chest, his ass and back were perfectly smooth, though no less hard and sinewy. He turned around to show Pete his soft yet powerful cock. As the hot water hit his body, the fat prick began to swell and harden. It must have been almost 10 inches long.
"Like what you see? Well, get a good look, because you'll NEVER have a body like this," Scott taunted as he began to flex and stroke his hard cock. He then leaned against the side of the stall and began to fervently beat his beefy cock. "Don't go anywhere. I like it when someone watches." Pete began to walk over to the stall he was cleaning when Scott bellow. "What did I just say? Get back here NOW, BITCH!" Pete complied. He hated dealing with guys like Scott, or at least guys at most a distant second to Scott. Guys who thought a killer bod and massive prick made them alpha males, entitled to screw any girl they wanted and fuck with any guy they wanted. Guys who thought power was measured in how much you can bench press or how many chicks you fuck. Guys who thought there was no one else who could measure up to them and acted like they were special. Pete wanted to do something. Anything. But what could he do?
"Hey, you little creeper! You like watching guys in the shower? Huh? You probably rub your nub to the thought of guys fucking your bony ass, cumming in your ass again and again. Not me. Men don't get fucked. Men fuck. Bitches get fucked!"
He turned off the water and headed to his backpack, still dripping wet and pulled a measuring tape out. "Let me tell you how a man is measured." He measured his still-rock-hard shaft, base to tip, and then measured it around, at the base, middle and just beneath the head. He went over to the white board the coach used for illustrating plays. He wrote down the length, and then he added the last three measurements and divided by three. And then he wrote...
ME: 10 3/16" X 8 2/8"
YOU:
And then he grabbed Pete. He took off Pete's shoes and socks. Then ripped off Pete's shirt, revealing a body like a Party City skeleton decoration covered in skin. He then pulled down Pete's pants, underwear included, and froze. Pete grabbed the measuring tape and measured his dick as Scott did, and then wrote down his length and girth measurements, but not before erasing the "ME" Scott wrote, Pete's fully-erect manhood veiny and purple twitching with anticipation and what asshole alpha males like Scott considered power.
SCOTT: 10 3/16" X 8 2/8"
A REAL MAN: 13" X 9 7/8"
