- Joined
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- Male
Disclaimer : All characters are over 18+
Apologies if I repeat myself or make errors in this story. This is my first time writing a story. However, I was bored and tired one night and got inspired.
Accidentally made 2 threads for this story. It worked out because I wanted to edit the post.
——————————————————————
Chapter 1-
The fluorescent lights of Eastwood University’s wrestling gym buzzed overhead, casting sterile light over mats that smelled of sweat and disinfectant. Brock "The Boulder" Dawson stood near the weight racks, his pristine white socks stark against the blue vinyl floor.
He frowned at a protein shaker bottle, thick fingers struggling with the stubborn lid. "Dumb... thing," he muttered in his slow, deep voice, cheeks flushing pinker as his biceps flexed uselessly.
A senior teammate had "accidentally" glued it shut again — another "team-building prank" Brock didn't understand but accepted with trusting confusion.
His wrestling singlet rode up his hairless thighs, emphasizing the absurd swell of his massive ass cheeks as he shifted pigeon-toed.
When his teammate, Brad, entered, Brock startled like a spooked colt, nearly dropping the bottle. "Oh! Hey!" he blurted, hastily covering his crotch despite wearing shorts.
"You here for... uh, muscle maintenance? Captain says visitors gotta... contribute?" He blinked hazel eyes, utterly sincere. "Do you know how to open this? Smells like... kinda like when Kyle forgets shower gel?"
The locker room steam clung to Brock's skin as he adjusted his pristine white socks, the elastic hugging his thick calves. He glanced at Brad while toweling off his hairless torso, hazel eyes wide with earnest confusion.
"Coach says post-workout hydration's crucial," he rumbled in that slow, deep voice, holding up a murky protein shake. "But this batch tastes like... salty bubblegum? Kyle mixed it special after practice."
A droplet slid down his massive glutes as he shifted pigeon-toed, completely oblivious to the semen crusting his inner thighs from earlier "hip stretches."
Brock's brow furrowed as he stared at the suspicious protein shake, his broad shoulders rolling with innocent confusion.
The scent of chlorine and sweat mingled with the unmistakable tang of dried semen clinging to his inner thighs—a routine consequence of the team’s "flexibility drills."
Across the locker room, Kyle (the captain) stifled a laugh behind his towel, exchanging knowing glances with teammates who'd "contributed" to Brock's shake recipe earlier.
Brock took a tentative sip from the shake, his thick eyebrows knitting together as the salty-sweet sludge coated his tongue.
"Kyle swore it's got extra... uh... performance enhancers," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
A sudden cramp seized his left calf, making him hop awkwardly on one foot while grabbing his massive quad.
"Whoa! Maybe I need more stretches?" He bent forward instinctively, his smooth, prominent ass cheeks parting slightly as he reached for his toes —unaware of Kyle creeping up behind him with a predatory grin.
The steam swirled around Brock's flushed face as he strained, his socks squeaking against the wet tiles.
"Dude, does your protein shake make your calves... tingle?" he asked Brad, voice thick with naive concern.
Behind him, Kyle mimed thrusting motions while other teammates snickered into their lockers, their eyes fixed on Brock's hairless thighs glistening with leftover "bonding ritual" residue.
Brad watched Kyle's predatory advance with a smirk, the steam curling around Brock's oblivious form like a stage curtain.
"Performance enhancers, huh?" Brad chuckled, stepping closer to block Brock's view of the snickering teammates.
"Coach told me about that — special recipe for championship glutes."
With a conspiratorial wink at Kyle, Brad palmed a tube of lubricant from the backpack, squeezing it onto his fingers behind his back.
The slick sound blended perfectly with the dripping showers as Brad feigned concern.
"Whoa, your calf's locking up bad. Let me help with... uh... deep tissue therapy. Coach's orders!"
Apologies if I repeat myself or make errors in this story. This is my first time writing a story. However, I was bored and tired one night and got inspired.
Accidentally made 2 threads for this story. It worked out because I wanted to edit the post.
——————————————————————
Chapter 1-
The fluorescent lights of Eastwood University’s wrestling gym buzzed overhead, casting sterile light over mats that smelled of sweat and disinfectant. Brock "The Boulder" Dawson stood near the weight racks, his pristine white socks stark against the blue vinyl floor.
He frowned at a protein shaker bottle, thick fingers struggling with the stubborn lid. "Dumb... thing," he muttered in his slow, deep voice, cheeks flushing pinker as his biceps flexed uselessly.
A senior teammate had "accidentally" glued it shut again — another "team-building prank" Brock didn't understand but accepted with trusting confusion.
His wrestling singlet rode up his hairless thighs, emphasizing the absurd swell of his massive ass cheeks as he shifted pigeon-toed.
When his teammate, Brad, entered, Brock startled like a spooked colt, nearly dropping the bottle. "Oh! Hey!" he blurted, hastily covering his crotch despite wearing shorts.
"You here for... uh, muscle maintenance? Captain says visitors gotta... contribute?" He blinked hazel eyes, utterly sincere. "Do you know how to open this? Smells like... kinda like when Kyle forgets shower gel?"
The locker room steam clung to Brock's skin as he adjusted his pristine white socks, the elastic hugging his thick calves. He glanced at Brad while toweling off his hairless torso, hazel eyes wide with earnest confusion.
"Coach says post-workout hydration's crucial," he rumbled in that slow, deep voice, holding up a murky protein shake. "But this batch tastes like... salty bubblegum? Kyle mixed it special after practice."
A droplet slid down his massive glutes as he shifted pigeon-toed, completely oblivious to the semen crusting his inner thighs from earlier "hip stretches."
Brock's brow furrowed as he stared at the suspicious protein shake, his broad shoulders rolling with innocent confusion.
The scent of chlorine and sweat mingled with the unmistakable tang of dried semen clinging to his inner thighs—a routine consequence of the team’s "flexibility drills."
Across the locker room, Kyle (the captain) stifled a laugh behind his towel, exchanging knowing glances with teammates who'd "contributed" to Brock's shake recipe earlier.
Brock took a tentative sip from the shake, his thick eyebrows knitting together as the salty-sweet sludge coated his tongue.
"Kyle swore it's got extra... uh... performance enhancers," he mumbled, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
A sudden cramp seized his left calf, making him hop awkwardly on one foot while grabbing his massive quad.
"Whoa! Maybe I need more stretches?" He bent forward instinctively, his smooth, prominent ass cheeks parting slightly as he reached for his toes —unaware of Kyle creeping up behind him with a predatory grin.
The steam swirled around Brock's flushed face as he strained, his socks squeaking against the wet tiles.
"Dude, does your protein shake make your calves... tingle?" he asked Brad, voice thick with naive concern.
Behind him, Kyle mimed thrusting motions while other teammates snickered into their lockers, their eyes fixed on Brock's hairless thighs glistening with leftover "bonding ritual" residue.
Brad watched Kyle's predatory advance with a smirk, the steam curling around Brock's oblivious form like a stage curtain.
"Performance enhancers, huh?" Brad chuckled, stepping closer to block Brock's view of the snickering teammates.
"Coach told me about that — special recipe for championship glutes."
With a conspiratorial wink at Kyle, Brad palmed a tube of lubricant from the backpack, squeezing it onto his fingers behind his back.
The slick sound blended perfectly with the dripping showers as Brad feigned concern.
"Whoa, your calf's locking up bad. Let me help with... uh... deep tissue therapy. Coach's orders!"
