Date: Sat, 07 Oct 2006 15:06:03 -0500
From: mt nuda <mtnuda@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Exam chapter 53

Chapter fifty-three

Prequel

	Monday continued


	Chris opened the door to the reception area, knowing it would be crowded.
It was.  Avoiding eye contact with everyone, even after hearing his name
called out once or twice,  he went straight for the outer door and before he
knew it he was outside, leaning against his car.  When his breathing
returned to normal, he got in and started the engine.  He sat there a moment
seeing even more guys entering the building.  It didn't take long before he
recognized one of the students from school walking towards the door.  He was
on the what? football team? Chris tried to remember, but could not come up
with his name.  He just knew the face as someone he wanted for his wrestling
team a year or two previous, someone who defected to the enemy camp, as it
were.  And now here he was going in to the doc's.  This whole thing is
getting more suspicious by the moment, Chris thought.  He counted the number
of people he knew had been the docs, added the number he just saw today,
added the entire football team as well... and what? double the number if the
rival South is involved as well?  The number approached and exceeded a
hundred, and that was just those Chris could identify!  Just how many did
this extend to?  The whole city?  county?  Were there other "Kroos"s and
whatevers all over the state?  He almost expected to turn on the news and
see the headlines!  He was even starting to toy with the idea of going to a
detective agency or something to get the whole stinking mess investigated,
but he knew he was in way too deep to make that call.  The first person to
get hauled in would be... himself!.  And now what was this new bullshit
about this restaurant tonight?

	He drove home trying to figure out a way to get out of his suspicious
appointment.  So what was he supposed to do? Wait tables? Wash dishes? Too
stupid or weird to guess.  But from what the docs were saying it sounded
like the only thing standing between the relentless machine-like assault of
the docs' "exams" and the whole wrestling team -- hell maybe the whole
school? -- was his "cooperation".  But the more he debated with himself, the
less sense it made.  Why did he have to sacrifice the team to save the team?
  Why did the guys -- himself thrown into the mix as well -- all have to
destroy themselves and their self-esteem to salvage any chance at the State
finals?  And if all of this was for the "good of the team" then why did they
have to torture him into signing that agreement?  The deeper he went, the
worse his stomach churned.

	And all afternoon his crotch was driving him crazy, forget how his guts
were in knots.  The "exam" at the docs' had only made him hornier if
possible, and it was all he could do not to jack off in the shower but he
kept remembering Kroos saying: no masturbating!  What the fuck was that all
about?  He was going to a goddamn restaurant, not a strip club! Like they
could tell the difference if he did, he laughed, but it was not funny.  He
knew his paranoia had gone over the top when he found himself looking around
his own bathroom for cameras.  Which only compounded that weird feeling he
had that someone had been in their house while they were awayfor the holiday
weekend!  Not that his wife would notice; she was too blissed out from all
the fucking they squeezed in between surprise inspections from the
jelly-smeared brats, her protests falling on deaf ears.  But still the house
felt "wrong" somehow, a bit "off".  Nothing was missing, even the locked
cabinet in the garage was intact.  But his senses were on high alert ever
since... well maybe it was from having his ass turned into a sick science
project.  If he could just compare notes with someone -- no scratch that!
Real bad idea!

	No matter how he looked at it, he felt the quicksand getting deeper and
deeper.  At this rate he would never make it to September, he thought.  He
knew he had betrayed his whole team to the docs when he signed that damn
release form, but it wasn't like they gave him a chance to read the fuckin
fine print.  Probably it was nothing more serious than some type of
exclusivity contract for all check-ups and training camp sessions and such.
No way it involved all this raunchy stuff.  No way, they would not dare!

	He kept repeating that to himself as he drove the twenty-some miles to
P******h that evening.  He even asked his wife to go along at one point, but
she said she was too tired after the weekend with the relatives, she just
wanted to stay home and do laundry.  As he guessed.  He told her he should
be back by ten once he had talked with some guys who were interested in
sponsoring some sports events coming up.  He made it all up, but she would
not be the wiser.

	He pulled in to the parking lot, suprised how busy it was for a Monday.
Maybe it was still from the holiday weekend? he tried to convince himself.

	He got out of the car and checked himself to make sure nothing looked out
of place.  Again that lycra was saving his dignity.  He even wore his
expensive shoes in case he would be on his feet all night.

	He walked into the restaurant, glad he had already eaten.  It smelled like
heaven and his stomach started groaning.  He pushed through several couples
waiting for tables, and went up to the hostess.

	"Table for.." she looked at him, or rather his pants "two?"

	"No.  I'm here to see Mort.  Tell him... Chris is here" and he felt like
the lamb going to slaughter, the walls of the pen closing in around him.
The smell of fresh blood hanging in the air.  Was that the prime rib or him?

	"Yes he is expecting you" she looked agitated, but that only confirmed his
fears "just a moment."

	She picked up the house phone and Chris could only hear parts of the
conversation, words like "here" and "wait" and maybe "big".  Chris stood
there a few minutes, avoiding eye contact with the manicured set, before a
big guy appeared from the back,

	"You Chris?"

	"Mort?  Yeah, I... ah..."

	"Follow me" Mort started for the back, then turned around to shake hands
"glad you made it, hey how's things, good t'see you back..."

	"Busy tonight eh?  You need help with -- "

	"No Chris we're gonna be fine" and he directed him into the kitchen.

	"Sorry but I'm a lousy cook" Chris looked at the organized mayhem in the
kitchen.

	"Cook?!? Hell the doc didn't explain what -- "

	"Not a gooddamn thing!  I'm supposed to help you here?"

	"That's not exactly what they had in mind."

	"Just what did 'they' have in mind?" Chris looked around as they went on
through the kitchen and through the double doors into a hallway "I really
don't know -- "

	"All in time Chris.  All in time" Mort steered him with his big hand on
Chris' shoulder "feels like ya got some bulk under there."

	"Well I'm... you don't know me?"

	"Only by reputation" Mort steered him into a door, and into a small room
"one of the best wrestling coaches in this state from what I read."

	"Thanks... I think... so what is this all about? I thought I was washing
dishes tonight or some shit.  I lost this bet and -- "

	"Chris the last thing you have to worry about is dirty dishes" he directed
him through the small room, through another door, and into a dim large area.
  As Chris' eyes adjusted he could tell he was in a space that looked like a
locker room, but was open along one side.  And he could almost make out some
electronic equipment... lights? His heart sank.

	"No Chris" Mort finally stopped the tour, turning to face him "this will be
something more agreeable I hope, something better suited to your athletic
skills."

	"My what?"

	"Your skills.  As a wrestler.  And a wrestling coach" and he went over and
turned on one of the lights. All at once Chris saw where he was.  It was
some fucking movie set!

	"Wait! What? What's going on here!" he looked around to see the locker room
set, then the lights, then the cameras further in the darkness "I don't know
what the docs said -- "

	"What Doctor Kroos said..." Mort went over to the second light and turned
it on.  Now Chris felt the trapdoor snap shut "was that you should be
agreeable to -- "

	"I didn't agree to do ANYTHING!" Chris started to leave the stage "I don't
know what they told you."

	"Doc Kroos told us that you would be agreeable to something suitable to
your talents -- " came from a voice in the shadows.  It could have been
Kroos' brother from the accent.

	"I'm a goddamn wrestling coach!  Is that it?" Chris looked around, the
goosebumps on the back of his neck forming whole divisions and battalions
now "so what's with all these damn cameras?  Is that it? You want me to make
a film?  Like a training film?"

	"The docs told us you would agree to do a film or anything we had
scheduled, anything you .. were told..." the voice continued.  Chris looked
at Mort who shrugged and made no attempt to stop him "those doors lead back
to the hallway you just came through.  From there you can go back to the
restaurant and back to your car.  Of course if you leave they will -- "

	"They? What's all this 'they' shit?" Chris stopped and looked around.  How
many were out there?  It sounded like more than one person was rearranging
noisy metal folding chairs in the darkness.  Were they expecting more?  A
regular audience?

	"Our business associates and, yes, myself as well.  More will be here in a
while. But if they arrive and you are gone, well..."

	"Well what?" Chris wanted to flee but was too angry now.  And maybe the
tiniest bit curious.  Not that he would allow them to notice or himself to
admit.

	"Chris, we both know why you agreed to come here tonight in the first place
correct?" from Mort on the stage, fumbling with something in one of the
lockers.

	"What did the docs TELL you!?!?!" Chris roared.

	"Okay, I'll level with you, here's the skinny" Mort looked out, seeing
Chris silhouetted against one of the spotlights, hesitating to leave the
stage "you are wearing these" he opened the locker door wider revealing a
wrestling outfit in white "and Mark -- "

	"Who?"

	"Mark... let's call him just Mark, as we will call you just Chris, will be
wearing these" and opened a second locker with an identical outfit in red.

	"And what are we supposed to do?"

	"What you do best, Chris" Mort waived him back to the stage, over to his
lockers.  Knowing he really had no option, Chris dragged himself back into
the light, the glare now blinding.

	"You want me to... coach?  this Mark guy?"

	"Now you see why you are qualified for this -- "

	"So I just gotta coach this guy, not like I haveta.. like wrestle this
Mark?"

	"Wrestle?" came from that voice in the darkness "why would a wrestling
coach be concerned about a little... wrestling.  Yes, we imagine you would
want that too."

	Chris was just about to grab Mort and slam him hard against the open locker
  when they both heard a large metal door open and voices. Several voices.

	"You guys were starting to get late!" Mort shouted into the darkness, his
eyes never leaving Chris and his balled fists.

	"Is that the guy?" Chris heard a deep voice from the far area, guessing a
guy in his forties or so.

	"Who's there?" Chris looked out, shielding his eyes from the lights.

	"Mark?" Mort recognized the voice "why don't you come up here and meet...
Chris" he put his hand on Chris' shoulder steadying him.  Chris tried to
pull away, but the hand had a familiar steel grip and he was seeing his
options dwindling down to maybe one or two.  The quicksand was up to his
knees now.  He looked out and saw one of the shadows separate from the other
three? four? and come towards the stage.  As he got closer Chris saw who
this Mark guy was.  He was younger than he sounded, in his twenties?
thirties? and built!  Chris stole a look at him up and down.  Shit, this
dude was built like a weightlifter, arms and shoulders ripped and corded
with muscles, pecs pushing out his shirt, narrow waist and powerful thick
thighs.  His brown hair matching the hair covering those powerful arms
straining at his polo shirt.  He came up to Chris and reached out his hand,

	"Chris?"

	Chris looked at the muscle stud and then at Mort.  Mort just nodded and
went through the inner door. Chris turned back to Mark and after a bit of
staged hesitation shook the offered hand, now getting a very clear idea how
strong this guy was.

	Under the lights, Mark's muscles bulged under the thin cotton fabric, the
corded ripples in his forearms as they shook. Chris would not let his eyes
linger on Mark's pecs, even after he gave Chris a good long up-and-down look
and a small friendly smile,

	"Looking good Chris."

	"Thanks... I think."

	"You wrestle then?"

	"Yeah" Chris broke the grip "you look like more of a -- "

	"Weight training, yeah" Mark gave a flex "but used to wrestle in college."

	"Shit, wish I had you in my two-fifteen class then."

	"Me too" Mark gave him a strange look and then that same half-smile.

	"Gentlemen" they heard that same deep voice from the room "why don't you
have a seat while we get ready" and the two looked around, seeing the only
place to sit was on the one bench.  They sat down hearing more metal squeaks
of folding chairs from the darkness.  As their eyes adjusted, they saw a
different guy, maybe twenty or so, go up to one of the cameras and turn it
on.  Chris looked at Mark,

	"You know what this is about?"

	"What?  You don't?  You ain't done this before then?"

	"Done what?"

	"Made one of their... movies."

	"It's just some weird kinda training film, right?" Chris got to his feet
"hey I still ain't agreed to this movie.  I was just supposed to wash dishes
or shit, cause I -- "

	"Because you agreed to anything remember?" now Chris recognized Kroos'
voice.

	"Kroos you bastard!" Chris was off the stage heading for the group in the
back area.  He found the big form easily and was about to grab him but Kroos
said,

	"Anything... rather than have that other patient see you in your condition
and rather than being put in the... awkward position of having to persuade
him to having sex with you, because I would not perform anal intercourse on
you -- "

	"Shut UP!"

	"Chris there's no reason to be shy. Everyone here knows why you are here
and how deeply involved you are -- "

	"What DID YOU TELL THEM YOU BASTARD!?!?"

	"Just that you agreed to help us with our filming since you have
established you are resigned to doing whatever is necessary, is that not
correct?"

	"Kroos this has gone too far -- "

	"Perhaps, perhaps not.  But Chris... my suspicion is... not yet.  Not until
your team has sufficient funding for the upcoming season.  Not until you
have led them to the State Championship which you WILL do this year.  Not
until you have fulfilled all terms of your contract" Kroos pointed back to
the stage "and not until your condition is cured you agree?"

	"Kroos what you mean about the team?"

	"You agree?"

	"What funding? What championship?"

	"You agree, do you not?"

	Chris looked back to the stage where that mass of muscles was sitting
quietly waiting.  He looked at the men sitting there behind Kroos -- or
rather their dim silhouettes   -- then the camera man -- wait no, camera
MEN! two of them! -- damn, no one was going to put a stop to this?  He knew
he could walk right then and there, no one was making any overt move to
obstruct him. The minutes ticked by, the sweat ran down his back.  Suddenly
there was a loud snap!

	"Ready here" from the young guy at the second camera.  Chris was frozen,
trapped and damned for sure.

	"But...but..."

	"But what Chris?" from Kroos' double.

	"But I can't be doing this! Everyone'll know who I am, they know my face!"

	"Doc? What don't you show him."

	"Show me what!?" Chris was horrified "see what?"

	Kroos reached behind him and said something to one of the guys in some
language, all consonants and grunts.  He reached into a briefcase and handed
something to Kroos,

	"This might explain" and handed him a photo.

	Chris held it up and gasped.  It was an image of a guy in what looked to
be, yes it was the exam room, being manipulated by a gloved hand.  It took
Chris a while to realize HE was that guy in the pic, the face was obscured
and distorted.  Hell, he recognized his own cock before he recognized the
rest.  He was too nervous, and relieved and pissed, all rolled into one, to
laugh.  Before anyone could react he turned the photo over before returning
it to Kroos.  He would remember that stamp.

	"This is me right?"

	"Yes Chris" Kroos said "as I told you, we needed to document the exams
thoroughly.  I mentioned to you that your anonymity was being preserved but
you were... let us say, too distracted."

	"So when -- IF I go up there, you telling me no one will recognize me?"

	"Well not from your face as you could see."

	"Fuck..." Chris stood there, not moving away, not moving up to the stage.
Every bone in his body told him to leave but he just froze, the image of his
naked, hard body in that picture was all he could see. As much as he cursed
himself, he had to admit he looked very very sexy in that picture.  And it's
not like anyone would believe it if they knew he had turned into a porn
star.  Not in a million years.  But... he knew he had lost his mind,

	"Did I really hear you say STATE championship?"

	"Yes, that is correct."

	"So you telling me you gonna throw the competition?"

	"We would not need to" Kroos looked around "we will make sure that your
team have sufficient funding and training and backing that their own talent
will take them to State."

	"You shitting me?"

	"If you are asking if I am serious, yes.  It was all spelled out in the
agreement you signed, but you were -- "

	"Distracted! Very funny" Chris looked back at the stage, seeing it now as
his ordeal, his hell.  But now he saw the reward, the light at the end of
the tunner, the way out as well,

	"What'd I gotta do..." he let the words hang in the silence.

	"You can start by going back up there to the locker room."

	"And do what... exactly?"

	"One small step at a time Chris" from that other guy who was leaning back
in his chair, his arms behind his head, the picture of controlled power.
The very image of the puppetmaster, the man behind the curtain.  And all he
had to do was sit there, his hands behind his head, not even smirking.
Chris' eyes went to his crotch automatically.

	Chris looked back to the locker room stage at Mark, sitting there looking
almost star material under the adjusted lighting.  Chris asked "Mark?"

	Mark just looked at him and shrugged, like: it's your call, newbie.

	Chris felt his feet, one, then the other, start to plod towards the locker
room area of the stage, out of his control.  He crawled up to the bench and
sat down.

	"You did this shit before?" Chris looked Mark up and down, no longer hiding
his open appraisal, making a point of giving his crotch a good look, and
making sure Mark noticed it.  It was his way of saying, you know this shit
is about sex right?

	"Yeah a couple of times..." and Mark pulled his shirt free of his
waistband, giving Chris a good view of his muscular abs.

	"And what are we supposed to do?" Chris' hand went to his thigh, pushing
into his scrotum to draw Mark's glance to his own crotch.

	"Nothin ya can't handle man" and pulled the shirt over his head, his bare
chest covered with bulging muscles coated with a thick mat of brown hair.

	"Fuck" Chris could not help but look "you takin gorilla hormones or
somethin?"

	"Only shave for competitions.  But it just comes back in hairier" he
smiled.

	"Chicks dig all that hair?" Chris remembered his wife and early
girlfiriends always complaining about his hairiness and he was not even half
as hairy as this guy.

	"Chicks... guys... all sorts..." Mark put his cards on the table.

	"You shittin me?"

	"You gettin the picture now?" Mark looked out to the "audience" as best he
could, "well gentlemen?  What do we do?"

	They heard some murmuring of voices then the voice from behind one of the
cameras "okay boss why don't you let Chris get a better look at you" and
that camera swung into position.

	"The lens is the boss now Chris" Mark bent down and undid his shoes and
then pulled off his socks.  He stood up and faced that camera, staring it
down.  He reached down to the buckle of his jeans, unbuckled his belt and
opened the front of his jeans.  The revealed jockstrap, flourescent white
under the lights, contrasted against the dark hairiness of his crotch and
thighs, and caught Chris off-guard.  The dude is wearing a fuckin jock?  And
he's almost shoving at the camera?  That image started burning a permanent
hole into his brain.

	Chris let his jeans fall past his knees then slowly stepped out of them,
turning around in the process.  Chris had never seen anyone so young that
hairy before, or if he did he sure as hell never allowed himself to stare
like he was now.  Hell even the guy's butt was covered with that fur.  Chris
was used to seeing his team naked but they were high-school kids, not mature
guys like this!  And even guys he had accidentally "noticed" at the gym were
nothing like this monkey.  Mark made sure both Chris and the cameras could
see his body from all possible angles.  Chris had seen builds like that
before, but only in muscle mags, and never covered with a pelt like this.
It made Mark look like some wildman recently dragged from the forest or
something from a low-budget caveman movie.  But man was he packing some
serious muscle!

	"Why don't you give Chris a few poses now" from that other Kroos voice
somewhere in the dark.

	"No that's fine" Chris looked at the audience "I get the picture. The guy
is packed, okay?"

	"Show him Mark."

	And Mark started a professional routine, the muscles in his arms and back
popping out in high relief.  Chris heard a few grunts of approval from the
audience and had to admit it was an impressive show. After about ten minutes
he heard that voice,

	"Okay Chris you must be getting warm under those lights..."

	"I'm fine thanks."

	"Go on Chris, your turn.  Lose the clothes..."

	He knew this moment was coming but he had hoped to put it off as long as
possible.  He was become the master of postponing the inevitable it seemed.
When Mark went into his show he was almost relieved, the heat was off him.
The camera was not pointing at him.  It was that Mark guy who was trapped
like the bug under the microscope.

	But when the other camera closed in on his position it felt like the eyes
of thousands were burning into his bod instead.  Normally, he would feel his
goods shrink to nothing in nervousness, but he had been riding the heights
of horniness since noon.  Even when he thought about leaving, his cock was
aching for attention.  He stood up, maybe a bit outdone by the muscled
hairiness before his eyes.  It felt a bit weird not being "the adult" for a
change. With everyone watching he took off his jacket.

	"You can hang them in your locker Chris" Kroos -- the real Kroos -- said.

	Chris turned to his locker where the white wrestling outfit was hanging,
and found a hook for his jacket. With his back to the room he unbuttoned his
shirt, pulled up his t-shirt and tossed them over the same hook.  Stripped
to the waist, he heard Mark behind him.  Out of the corner of his eye, he
saw him pull down his jock, naked and furred.  Mark just stood there, his
arms folded over his chest.  Chris kept his back to them and removed his
shoes and socks.  When he stood up he knew he had to turn around.  He faced
Mark,

	"I ain't doing any of that posing after your... routine."

	"Why not man" Mark was now openly looking him up and down "you wouldn't be
here if you weren't prime beef."

	"Fuck..." Chris saw how he looked, out-furred and out-muscled, as his hands
went to his belt.  He looked at the audience in the dark, then at Mark,
openly looking him up and down. Chris' eyes bugged,

	"What the hell?" finally taking in Mark's cock, "what's that?  I mean... on
your... y'know."

	"Yeah, got it pierced" Mark looked down at himself but did not touch it.

	"Tell me that didn't hurt like hell?" Chris had stopped with his pants
around his ankles, his waist covered with the lycra shorts over his briefs.

	"You can't imagine" Mark's gaze was fixed on what was under the lycra "but
the first time I boned after that... man I saw stars!"

	"Fuck..." Chris looked at Mark's cock, and damn! if it didn't give a
twitch.  As he looked he swore the head started to redden and swell a bit.
He looked down at himself and found the waistband of the lycra shorts.  He
started to pull them down, turning to face the locker,

	"No man" Mark said, his voice husky "face the front stud. We want to see
the whole show."

	"Geez..." Chris looked at the floor, but slowly turned.  He pulled the
tight material past his crotch, his white cotton briefs stretched by the
hard-on pushing out and to the right.

	"Mutherfucker..." Mark grunted under his breath, shielding his eyes to look
past the camera "this dude's already boned."

	"Mark" came from a voice "why don't you help Chris before he changes his
mind."

	He went over to Chris and crouched down, tugging the material all the way
to his ankles.  With Chris putting his weight on Mark's shoulders he stepped
out of both legs. Mark went behind Chris and put the shorts in his locker.
When he turned back to face them all, Chris -- and the cameras -- could see
he was way past boned!  He was still riding the permanent hard he had been
trying to stuff inside his pants all day, and now it was finally free,
pushing out the thin fabric of his briefs.  Chris tried to keep his hands in
front of his crotch when he saw that guy behind the second camera zoom in
for a close up of both their crotches.  He felt Mark come up behind him, his
hardening cock making contact with his briefs-covered butt.  When he felt
Mark's hands trying to pull his hands away he protested.

	"Just go with it man, you're doing super!" Mark felt the resistance leave
Chris' arms as he pulled them behind Chris' back. Chris stared away from the
cameras as he felt the lens zoom in to his swollen front.  Then he felt Mark
find the waistband and start to pull them down.  It was too late to protest
now.

	As they all watched, as the cameras zoomed in for the close-up, Chris' hard
cock pulled free of the briefs and bobbed straight out, the head starting to
shine, the skin stretched so tight.  He stood there as Mark came around to
the side, his own cock now reddening and hardening, the metal ring pulling
free of the foreskin.  Chris watched it bob a few times as he felt Mark ease
his briefs down to his knees, then to his calves.  Chris stepped out of
them, hanging his head.

	"Okay ya happy now?" Chris looked at the floor, not daring to look at Mark,
but knowing all eyes were on their cocks.  Hell, he could have the ugliest
mug on the planet for all the attention the camera was paying to anything
above his chest!

	He stood there with his arms pinned behind him for what seemed like several
hours, the sweat running into his eyes, little trickles running down his
back and sides. All he could hear was the heavy breathing coming from behind
him and the occasional squeak from the folding chairs. The silence was so
deep he could even hear Mark's heart beating a mile a minute.  He was
interrupted by something coming from the audience, sounding to his ears like
something wet plopping to the hard concrete floor.  Damn, his dick gave a
jump, someone just blew a wad!

	"Y-y-you two go shower now" came from the second Kroos, his voice hoarse
and catching.

	Chris looked at Mark, and gave him a quizzical look, "what?"

	"Grab your towel" Mark pointed at Chris' locker as he went to his own and
found his towel "do what I do."

	Chris found a large white towel folded on the top shelf and wrapped it
around himself, tying it at the waist. He followed Mark who was covered in
similar fashion.  At the end of the "locker area" they went through the
false opening and sure enough, there was a tiled shower area, again one wall
open to the audience, suddenly bright as day.  After the relatively dim area
of the "locker room", this second area looked like it was glowing under the
floodlights, the glare bouncing off the white tiles. Chris could only
imagine how their bodies looked in the relentless white-hot blinding light.

	As they went in and started turning nozzles, Chris was almost surprised
when real water came out.  Man, they spare no expense, he smirked.  He
looked around, making mental calculations, totalling up what all this must
have cost.  That's a lot of ribs, he smiled to himself. He looked over at
Mark who was already stepping into the stream, his towel tossed over a hook
on the far wall.  As Chris was doing the same he noticed one of the cameras
coming around the corner and when in was in place, even more lights also
swung around.  Chris was turning to watch this when Mark said,

	"Try not to look at the cameras. Just pretend they're not really there."

	"Yeah right.  Why?"

	"It's all part of the act.  It's like hidden cameras or shit, and like
they're the peeping toms watching us shower okay?"

	"Kinda fucked up."

	"Maybe..." Mark started to lather his front like it was no big thing "but
remember from now on, just pretend they ain't there okay?"

	"Fine... geez I guess" but Chris was glad just to get under the water and
rinse this whole thing off him.  As he was shampooing his hair he almost
forget where he was.  Only when he opened his eyes and heard Mark next to
him did his predicament come flooding back. He looked down at himself, still
at full mast, then over at Mark who looked maybe half-mast, then,

	"Remember don't notice them."

	Chris just nodded his head and turned to let the water run down his back,
his front now straight at the camera.  As he did he had to avoid looking at
the giant unblinking eye, so he concentrated on watching Mark. After all it
was the only other thing moving in the " shower room". Mark started to soap
his front again,  a rich lather forming in his chest and belly hair. Chris
allowed himself to stare, never before having the chance to watch what soap
did to such a pelt like that.  He hated to admit it but he was almost
relieved he was already hard. Because he knew watching this might make for
some puffiness down there, it was that much of a novelty. When he knew he
had Mark's eye he started to do the same himself, soaping his pecs, letting
the lather drool down his front to his pubes.  Mark's eyes were on his every
move. As he started to rub his soapy hands over his chest, he felt his
nipples start to harden, and then he remembered the last time he had
showered with someone watching.  Again this would have brought his dick to
life fast, but now his cockhead just throbbed and turned a deeper red.  He
remembered how hard that Stoo guy got watching him then, and he wasn't even
naked at that point.  And when he did finally have to strip those clingy
scratchy shorts off his crotch, and the kid blew a load right then and there
without even touching himself! Damn! Chris' soapy hands worked down to his
pubes, all the while watching Mark like a hawk.  Okay muscle stud, Chris
thought, let's see if I can turn this big musclehead on.  Let's see if I can
break his balls.

	His hand started to soap the area under his crotch, behind his balls, nice
and slow. Sure enough, Mark's eyes were bugging.  When he saw Mark's hand
move to his cock, Chris cleared his throat and gave his head a shake, no!
Mark looked at him, what?

	"What you lookin at buddy?" Chris put on a fake accent. Mark looked at
Chris and barely caught the wink. He got it!

	"Ah... er... nothin... sir" and Mark turned his face into the shower,
pretending embarrassment. Chris almost beamed. Cool, he got the idea!  Maybe
he ain't so dumb.

	"Well then watch where you're lookin!"

	Chris diverted his eyes to the floor, but they shot up again when he heard
the loud cough from Chris,

	"and careful where those hands are bud... don't let me think y'might be
playin with yerself checkin me out" Chris turned his back on him "or I might
think yer... homo or shit."

	"No... sir" Mark grunted.

	Now that Mark understood the game, Chris started the performance. Fuck the
cameras, he thought, I got me a real audience.  Just like that Stoo kid.
I'll give Mark here the show I should have given the kid.  He soaped himself
up from head to toe and stepped away from the water.  Knowing Mark was
watching every move he leaned forward, thrusting his butt out, smearing it
with a tantalizing coating of soap. He straightened up and turned to face
Mark, and there it was! Mark's cock was hardening fast! Fuck, he had him!

	Facing him now, he ran his hands all over his chest and belly, leaving
swirls of soap everywhere.  Mark's eyes were all over him, his tongue almost
hanging out.  And no matter how he tried to hide it, his cock was coming up
to full mast, a rock-hard unmistakeable bone. And Chris knew Mark had to
spend as much time facing the cameras, the ones that "weren't there".  Chris
knew Mark really had no way to hide it.  That was when Chris started to
smear as much of the lather as possible into his pubes and then all over his
balls.  Mark's hand almost by itself went to his own cock.

	"Fuck man" Chris lowered his voice into his best shit-kicker range "you ARE
playing with yer tool aren't you?"

	"No! sir" Mark's hand shot away, his cockhead shiny red, the ring jutting
out bright.

	"If you ain't jerking it how come your rod is poking me in my face?"

	"It just... happened... sir."

	Chris continued to smear the lather all over his crotch, and making a point
of facing the camera and Mark at the same time, started a slow wank.

	He heard a distinct "yeah" from somewhere in the darkness as he yanked
himself as much as he dared.  Mark's cock now was painfully swollen,
throbbing with each heartbeat.  Mark's face was red and shiny with either
sweat or water.

	When he could not hold it much longer, he pulled his hand away and just let
the soap-covered cock sway back and forth.  Mark and maybe someone else let
out a hiss.

	Chris turned his back on him and started to soap his butt again, but now
his fingers were spending more time playing up and down his crack.  He
slowly lowered himself until his knees were bent, his crack plainly visible.
He looked over his shoulder at Mark, who was having a hard time keeping his
hands above his waist.  Both his nipples now were bright red and poking out
from that wet forest of chest hair. Chris looked down at Mark's throbbing
cock,

	"Dude I can smell yer crotch from here, like don't you ever wash down
there?"

	"Huh?"

	"You been just standing there.  Don't you believe in soap?"

	"Well.. ah.. yeah."

	"Well clean up yer smelly goods already."

	Chris straightened up and turned to face Mark, hearing the camera come in
closer.  He didn't need to look to see where it was now pointing. As Mark
started to soap his pubes, Chris stepped back into the water, sending all
the lather down his front.  Mark was trying to soap his crotch without
coming near his dick, which Chris found almost comical.  When his own front
was rinsed clean, he could tell that Mark could see how tightly stretched
his cock was, and how close Chris was to blowing. Mark's hand could not help
it now, and he was openly masturbating.

	"Yeah that's better. Yer finally cleaning yerself good" Chris grunted,
trying to keep a straight face.  But he could tell that Mark was getting
close.

	"Okay that's enough" Chris barked "rinse off before ya give yerself a
rash."

	"But just a little" Mark's hand was speeding up.

	"Now!" and almost pushed him back into the stream.  Mark yanked his hand
away and squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to cum as the water hit his
crotch.

	After a moment of catching his breath, Mark turned to face forward, his
cock throbbing hard but he had not lost the battle. Barely.

	"Man yer a mess" Chris barked, his own hand again spreading soap up and
down his cock.

	"Wha?"

	"Ya missed the whole area under those smelly hairy balls dude."

	"Say what?" Mark was completely confused.

	"Man lemme show ya" and before Mark could react Chris got down on the tiles
"now step over me."

	"What???" Mark looked at Chris but stepped forward.  He took a step until
he was straddling Chris lying on his back.

	"Now spread you goddamn legs man I gotta explain everything?  Okay now
crouch down a bit.  Lemme show ya what a pig ya are" and before he could
react Mark felt Chris' soapy hands start to slide up between his thighs.

	"Hey!" Mark sounded genuinely surprised.  Then he heard Chris whisper,

	"How many times?"

	"What?" Mark whispered back, his face away from the camera.

	"How many times can you cum?" Chris' face was turned away, Mark could
barely hear him with the water splattering everywhere.

	"Oh..." Mark felt those hands now start to slide up to bang into his balls.
  He moaned.

	"Well?"

	"More'n you" Mark's voice returned to his cocky, earlier tone.

	Chris turned his face back to the camera,

	"Man do you ever clean here? Shit, I gotta show you don't I?"

	"Buddy watch those hands!"

	"Stop being a wuss" but Chris' slimy hands were now giving Mark's balls a
good massaging.  Mark squeezed his eyes shut and his knees started to shake.
  When he felt the hands working around the sides of his balls and make
contact with the sides of his cock he hissed.

	"Just be careful there man.  Don't even think about letting this" and
Chris' hand was now making contact with the sensitive underside of his cock
"well, don't even think about it! You got it?" and now Chris' other hand was
starting to work up into Mark's crack, while his good hand was starting a
slow blatant jacking "you better not let this... don't you fuckin dare even
fuckin THINK about nuttin on me man!" and there it was.  Mark now knew Chris
was going to jack him off right then and there, the camera getting it all.
He felt that back hand start to massage his hole and the thumb of the other
rub right below his cockhead and that did it! His knees buckled as he felt
his balls clamp up, his cock swell in that hand and he just lost it and
began to empty his load all over Chris' chest!

	"FUCK!!!!" screamed Chris, yanking his hands away, scrambling to his knees
"you asshole!" but Mark's cock was still globbing another load or two onto
the tiles "you nutted on me man! You fuckin queered all over me!"

	"Sorry sorry I couldn't help it!" Mark tried to hold his cock, but another
glob formed at the slit.

	"I oughta kick yer butt!" Chris was on his feet, his own cock still red and
hard "I'm gonna make ya pay!  You blew your cream all over me! That's fuckin
sick!"

	"I said I'm sorry!" and then a phone rang!  Both of them froze, then
started looking around like two pathetic punks busted by the car alarm.
>From where Chris stood he had a better idea where the sound was coming from.
  On the wall of the locker room was an old-fashioned wall-mounted model,
and damn! if it didn't have a red light blinking!  Fearing it might keep
ringing forever -- and getting a cue from the camera moving towards it -- he
walked over to it, slipping and trailing water everywhere.  When he picked
it up he was shocked to hear a voice!

	"Wha?"

	"Listen a minute" it was the voice of Kroos' evil twin, calling from his
cell phone? "that was very impressive but if you think your scene with Mark
concludes the... festivities, you are wrong -- "

	"Who is this?" Chris tried not to look at the audience, but knew damn well
whose voice it was "what do you-- "

	"Your task tonight -- now listen carefully -- is to get both Mark, who has
a good idea, as well as Mort, who has NO idea, to fuck you in your butt--"

	"What?!?!" looking at Mark now, who was trying to clean up, and not look
like he was in on whatever this was about.  He was not succeeding at either,
but the camera was too far away to notice.

	"not once but twice.  Each.  Now you are to go through the inner door and
find Mort and tell him... he has a phone call.  Do you understand --"

	"No way I'm gonna --"

	"Shall I put the doctor on the line?  He will tell you --"

	"You can't be serious!"

	"Go through the door and tell Mort this call is for him.  Now!"

	Chris held the phone away from his ear, looking at it like it was reading
to bite his ear.  Good, I hope they're finished filming this shit, he
thought, cause this is to fucked up for even somebody's idea of porno.  He
craned his head around the door to Mark in the showers "hang on, something's
up" and before he heard the startled cough in response he was through the
stage locker area and through the inner door.  He almost expected another
movie set, but instead was both relieved and nervous to see the bare studs
and unpainted back set that was the "green room".  Whether he was more
surprised to see Mort back there or vice versa was a major toss-up,

	"What the hell--"

	"You're wanted on the phone--"

	"Say that again slowly."

	"That phone -- out there in this locker room thing -- you got a call."

	"Right."

	"No shit" Chris went back to the door and started to open it, then the
light bulb went off "but not dressed like that.  He wants to talk to you --
y'know Kroos' cousin or shit -- he's on the phone and to make sure you are
wearing -- well he said you'd know what he meant" like Chris knew what he
was talking about.  He was playing his hunch.

	"Are you sure?" but Chris' afterimage was gone and the door closed with a
muffled bump.

	Chris was back in the shower area, and next to Mark before he could react.
Before the questions started, Chris was back in character,

	"That was disgusting--"

	"Wha?"

	"What you did.  Man, just thinking about what you did -- man you really
sprayed your load right on --"

	"Shit I'm sorry already -- " but Mark caught the slight wink, turning away
from the camera.  As soon as Chris started his swaggering and posturing they
both heard the one-eyed beast buzz to life.

	Sorry ain't good enough!" Chris stood with his fists balled "you pig,
treating me like your cumrag!"

	"It was an accident" Mark stood under the shower, the water running down
his front.  He was facing away from the unblinking eye until he could figure
out where this was going.  The water continued to sheet down his hairy back,
dripping off his furred ass, a small noisy pg-rated waterfall.  His glutes
flexed again and again as he shifted his weight from side to side, trying to
hear anything of that phone conversation.  But either Mort was keeping his
voice down or something was going wrong.  And Chris was interpreting his
squirming around as some kind of come-on.  Or else that dick of his just
could not go down!

	Chris looked over at him and blurted out "okay y'wanna be such a pig, well
okay then you can just clean me now!"

	"Do what?"

	"Get down on the floor. On yer back! Now pig!"

	Mark started turning off his faucet but Chris signaled no.  So Mark waddled
over to the center of the room and lowered himself down to the wet tiles and
rolled onto his back, not sure where he was going with this.  As he did they
both stole some looks through the door but no, Mort was not to be seen.  But
the receiver hung from the wall, almost swinging back and forth from the
vibrations on the flimsy make-shift divider.

	Mark was looking back over his shoulder, did he just hear the door?  and
then he felt several plops hit his crotch.  Damn! he thought, did this Chris
jerk just cum on me? He looked down at himself; his crotch was getting
splattered with more soap of all things.  He looked up as Chris took a large
stride and straddled him, his cock above Mark's chest.  From Mark's angle it
looked like a bomb descending to its target.

	"Okay pig clean out my hole. Good!"

	"Fuck that's gross!" Mark quickly got the scene "I ain't touchin yer
shithole.  What you think I'm some kinda -- "

	"Just do it pig, or I'll tell the whole school you fuckin jizzed on me!
And I start with coach in the other room right there..."

	"You wouldn't!"

	"Then clean out my butt. NOW!"

	Mark scooped up some of the soap and started to smear it up and down Chris'
spread cheeks and then, as he felt him squat lower and throw his head back,
his hands slid into his opening crack.  He smeared harder and harder,
allowing his hand to "accidently" bump into the underside of Chris' balls.
Chris squeezed his eyes shut and hissed something.

	Mark started to use both hands then, one working over Chris' butthole,
feeling it relax and open to his fingers, the other hand rubbing into his
balls.  Before he dared to go to the next step he turned his head and
whispered, "you? how many?"

	"Try me" Chris whispered, giving him the green light.

	Mark's finger was then probing deeper inside Chris' hole,

	"Yeah pig, clean me out there, deep.  Get inside pig.  That's disgusting,
you shoving your fingers in another guy's asshole!" so that's exactly what
Mark did.  When Chris felt Mark's other hand migrate to his cock he
whispered "don't... just watch" and started rocking back and forth on Mark's
finger.  With one hand starting to insert the second and shit! even a third
finger in there? Mark used his other hand to smear the soap all over his own
crotch, his recently abused cock hardening fast with the hope of where this
might be going.  His fist started to do some serious stroking up and down
his cock, trying to get ready for a second cum shot before Chris might blow
his own load and steal the show, Mark's show as far as he was concerned.
Chris looked down and saw what he was doing,

	"You pig you think y'gonna jack off with your hand on my butt?  Okay if
you're such a big homo then go on! Show the world what a sick fuck you are!"
but Chris could feel those fingers deep inside him, now banging into his
prostate.  He squeezed his eyes shut,

	"This is so fuckin perverted you're gonna actually make me nut!" and Mark
yanked his hand away from his crotch and started to jack Chris with it.  He
barely stroked up and down before Chris yelled and started shooting his cum
all over Mark's face.

	"Damn! You're making me cum! Fuck fuck fuck!" and as Mark's one hand thrust
harder and harder into Chris' hole forcing more spunk to shoot onto his
face, his other returned to his own cock and within a minute, a second load
was shooting out of his cock. He was so far into his orgasm he almost wasn't
ready when Chris lowered himself forward and shoved his soap-covered cock
into Mark's face.

	"Blow me fucker!" and Mark opened his mouth as Chris' cock pushed into his
tongue. As he did Mark yanked the last of his goo from his cock.

	After a moment or two Chris pulled out and got to his feet.  His cock was
still hard and red.  When Mark saw that he let out a grunt,

	"Man... look at you!"

	"Look at me? look at YOU!" Chris stepped back into the shower and cleaned
himself in earnest "you the one spunked all over me! That's sick! And you
let somebody force you to shove your fingers in his asshole!  His asshole
dude! And if that ain't sick enough you let him put his dick in your mouth!
Man that's the worst!" and turned his face in the water as Mark took his
place under the water next to him.  He half-turned and whispered "thanks.
You were great!"

	"Anytime stud" Mark whispered back "that was beyond awesome!"

	They finished their showers, their skin beginning to prune a bit, and
turned off the water.  As they were drying off in the shower room, they
heard how quiet the set had gotten.  They were just about to say something
when they heard someone start to grunt rhythmically and then shout.  Again
there was the wet puddle sound as some guy's cum hit the concrete floor. To
Mark it sounded better than applause.

	"Very very excellent work gentlemen" came that deep voice from the back
"why don't you two sit a while while we re-load the cameras."

	"What?" Chris said "that's it right? We're done here man!"

	"Not quite" Kroos' voice unmistakeable "that was only the first segment."

	"Fuck you Kroos" Chris stood up, the towel tight around his waist "you got
your money's worth. I paid my debt!"

	"After the next segment" Kroos came out of the darkness, his shirt open to
the waist, his pants barely closed "we will consider whether to call it a
night. We will consider your wager from earlier today ... if..."

	"If what?"

	"If your little show with Mark here took care of your problem.  Show me you
are back to normal, Chris" Kroos nodded at the towel.

	"Gimme a fuckin break" but Chris held the towel tight "what more we gotta
-- I gotta do!?"

	"The towel Chris..."

	Again there was a silent tense moment. Both were surprised by a voice yell
"reloaded!"

	Chris looked at Mark and then at Kroos.  Before the camera got into
position he pulled the towel aside.  He was as hard as ever.

	"Fuck..." Mark looked at him "don't that ever go down?" but then noticed
the camera had beaten Mark to the punch.  Chris tried to yank his towel
shut, but then just grunted and left it open.

	"No it don't" he glared at Kroos "and he's the one knows why, ain't that
right doc?"

	"Fuck, sign me up!" Mark jumped to his feet "with a dick like that I'd be
-- "

	"Fuckin miserable" Chris cut him off "trust me!"

	"Well Chris looks like you are ready for the second, the next segment -- "

	"Which is?"

	"You two can figure it out" Kroos pointed at the two outfits hanging
untouched in their lockers.

	They looked at each other.  Chris asked,

	"You say you wrestled?"

	"Yeah."

	"Think they want us to wrestle?"

	"Wrestle? Where?"

	Kroos looked at the cameraman, nodded and left the lit area.  The two
looked at each other, Chris using the lull to pull the towel around himself
again.  Before their butts hit the bench, the inner door opened and there
was Mort, dressed in an approximation of a coach's outfit.  Well at least
the cap said "coach".

	"What is this--" he started, but Chris pointed at the phone still hanging
off the hook.  When Mark tried to interrupt, Chris almost jabbed him in the
ribs.

	"Call for you...coach" Chris pointed again.

	After glances at the two sitting there in their towels, Mort went over to
the phone and picked it up, trying not to look at the camera closing in for
the kill,

	"Coach?" he asked the phone.

	The two tried to hear what was being said on the other end, knowing they
would have to suffer the consequences regardless.  When Mort glanced once or
twice towards the audience, first dumbfounded, then almost pissed, they
suspected it wouldn't be good.  When he spun around and glared at them --
glared at Chris! -- they knew something unscripted was starting.  He almost
slammed the phone down on the hook.

	"Okay which one of you two--"

	"Me coach" Chris knew what his part to play in this would be.  He dove in
headfirst "Mark here didn't do it.  I did."

	"That's not what I'm talking about" Mort gave Chris a puzzled look: what
are you trying to do? "that was the... the principal and..."

	"And I'm suspended right?" Chris was going to sabotage this scenario, one
way or another.

	"I'll get to you in a minute" Mort almost mouthed: shut UP! "but first, I
want you" indicating Mark "to help me get those mats out here."

	"Mats?" Mark asked, but it almost sounded like he said masks, "what mats?"

	"Come with me" Mort directed Mark through the door to the backstage area,
but not before shooting a look a Chris like: sit there and shut up!

	So Chris got up and turned to his locker, knowing what was next.  Without
waiting for the two to return, he started stepping into his white singlet,
pulling it up to his waist, but not over his shoulders.  Hell, they wanna
see skin, I'll give'm skin.

	He had started his "stretching" exercises, almost mugging for the camera,
when the door opened and several floormats came sailing into the room,
almost hitting him in the leg.  He started grabbing them and positioning
them on the floor as Mort and then Mark joined him with the last of the
mats.  Chris was already fastening them together when the last two were
kicked into place.  Like I'm going to let these two amateurs do this part,
he told himself, and get injured when they pull apart because they didn't
know how to do it right.  Not likely.

	"So what'd the principal say?" Chris would not let it go, his work
finished.

	"Ah...er... nothing" Mort shot Mark a quick hard look.  Mark looked away.

	"Mark?" Chris tried to catch his eye.  You in on this or not?

	"Okay you two" Mort interrupted "you can take it from here right?" and
started to leave.

	"Wait!" Chris jumped up, knowing the singlet was showing everything again
"what about you Mort?"

	"Hey no names!" Mort shouted, gesturing to cut the recording.


	"Why not?" Chris looked around seeing the cameras go dark "our names are on
this! Fuck there ain't much that ain't!" he rubbed his dick for emphasis.

	"Yeah well that's different."

	"Different how?"

	"Look I got a restaurant to run" and started to leave. Chris got around him
and blocked his exit.

	"So what's the fuckin deal?" Chris looked around "mild-mannered restaurant
owner by day.. and what? porn star by night?"

	"I don't do that shit!" Mort tried to pull away.

	"Why not?" Chris turned, hearing Kroos coming forward "what's his scene
here?"

	"Let him go Chris" Kroos said.

	"Why?  And why don't you want your name, your face on camera?" Chris looked
at them back and forth "didn't y'say our faces are gonna be blacked out or
some shit right?"

	"Ah..er... that's right" Mort cut in.

	"Prove it then" Chris had him now "park yer butt here with us two..."
looking at Mark "stars! and you can have your face blocked out just like the
rest of us... or ya lying to us?"

	"Ah... er... except..."

	"Except what?" Chris came in closer "you don't think it's safe all of a
sudden?"

	"No!" Mort looked to Kroos for support "no, it's just I ain't... y'know...
into this shit."

	"You mean you don't do this guy shit?"

	"Right."

	"Fuck right" Chris was getting angry "you mean it's just for the money
right?  You only are in this for the money."

	"Yeah."

	"And it don't matter to you if it's guys or chicks up here right?"

	"Like I said I ain't into guy shit!"

	"Prove! it!" Chris delivered the two words like a well-timed one-two punch,
knowing he had Mort in the corner now "prove this shit don't get yer nut!"

	"I said it don't!"

	"Only one way to prove it" Chris closed the trap "you park yer ass right
there while Mark and me here 'wrestle' and not get turned on and -- "

	"No way!"

	"Why not? Remember no one will know it's you.  Only us! Or is it cause
you're lying and we are not all anonymous as you say.  Cause if that's the
case" he looked at Kroos "I'm taking all of you down with me. Including that
clinic of yours Kroos!"

	"Wait a fuckin second!" both Kroos and Mort were freaking now.

	"What's it gonna be?" Chris looked at Mort "you gonna be part of our show?
On the record like? Or you want your golden goose to get the ax."

	Mort looked at them, then at Kroos.

	"It's okay Mort" Kroos started slowly "nothing worse than last Friday with
-- "

	"ShutUP about that!" Mort jerked towards Kroos.

	Chris just stood his ground "the choice is yours... coach."

	Mort looked around and slowly his shoulders started to sag, "fuck... but
I'm just sitting here! That's it!"

	"Deal" Chris stepped away from Mort and winked at Mark.

	"Deal" from Kroos, going back to the darkness, nodding at the cameraman as
he did.  The three on stage saw the red lights come back on.

	The three froze there on stage looking out to the darkness as the two red
lights of the cameras blinked on.  Mort was the only one wearing "regular"
clothes, and Mark was hugging his towel like life preserver.

	"Okay so now what?" Mark tried to shade his eyes looking where Kroos should
be sitting.

	"Simple, gentlemen" came a voice from Mort's direction, another fake accent
added to the mix "the principal wants to establish which of you fills the
only available spot for Regional.  I must decide which can put on a better
wrestling show -- I mean performance."

	Mark looked at Chris, "Fuck you were right" and then to Mort "you expect us
to wrestle? Here? On these flimsy mats?"

	"Correct."

	"You want us to goddamn kill each other then?" Chris looked out "this ain't
enough -- "

	"I'll decide..." Mort looked at Mark to his left, then Chris to his right.

	"Relax Mark" Chris nodded at Mark's towel "not a real match... just y'know,
like grappling... just enough to get the coach here" staring at Mort's
crotch "excited.  About who goes... to Regionals, right?"

	"You mean almost staged, right?"

	"Basically" Mort looked at the floor.

	"No real pins right?"

	"Right" Mort was watching the phone, almost willing it to ring.

	"Then what's the point?"

	A silence hung over the set, only the soft hum from the cameras and the
occasional squeek from a chair. Then Chris tossed the next grenade,

	"Coach, explain it to Mark here how many pops -- I mean pins! -- we gotta
do."

	Mort looked out to the darkness and cleared his throat,

	"The point... is..."

	"What?"

	"...is to see how many times you can... pin."

	"You mean cum -- er, come out on top, ain't that right coach?" Chris
lowered his voice then winked at Mark.  You gettin it now?

	"Right" Mort faced away from them "each time you pop-PIN... you..."

	"We what?"
	"It's one less time you haveta... ah..." Mort glared out to the darkness
"you haveta come back... for a.. y'know, rematch."

	"WHAT!!!!????" from Chris looking at Mort, then the darkness, you behind
this, Kroos?

	"You po--I mean pin your six times, you're off the hook" Mort tried and
failed not to look at Mark, "Mark's already displayed... er... three... pins
-- "

	"When?" Chris glared at Mark like he'd ratted him out.

	"Two nights ago" Mark held his towel tight "and... just tonight, number two
and three.  So a few more... pins... and I'm finished here.  Right...
coach?"

	Chris looked around like the whole thing was backfiring on him. He tried to
catch Mort's eye but no dice.  Mark was trying to act like it was no big
thing but...

	Chris looked down at himself, the singlet bunched in front. They want me to
make me blow six? no five loads?  Tonight?  Or do they want four turns at my
ass like that phone call said?  Which is it?  Chris was doing the math and
realized Mark was expected to blow his load one additional time.  And Chris
wanted to make sure it was going to be in that Mort jerk's straight butt!
They gonna fuck with me, I'm gonna fuck with them right back!  But how?

	When he looked over to Mark, he saw he already had tossed his towel and was
stepping into his singlet.  Now Chris examined that pierced dick more
carefully and the possibility... no inevitability, of it invading his ass
became a real issue.  As much as the thought of a slow fuck from the muscle
stud would have intrigued him under other circumstances, the idea of it
happening like this, under the lights, on film! for chrissakes, with people
watching, especially this Mort guy who was trying to act like this was
nothing but was already starting to sweat under these lights, well Chris had
a million thoughts running around his head.  But they all had to do with
castrating the lot of them!


	"So?" from Mark, now pulling up the shoulder straps of his singlet.

	"Ain't we forgetting something?" Chris pointed at Mark's crotch "don't we
need cups?" looking at Mort coach?"

	"Guess not" Mark looked through his locker, seeing nothing there.

	Chris turned to his locker, to see what else he could wear besides his
singlet.  Aside from the shorts he wore in, there was nothing.  Not even
knee or elbow pads.  He bit his lip and pulled up the shoulder straps,
seeing Mark do the same.

	"Gentlemen, you may begin whenever you are ready" came that phony accent
from Mort.

	Chris went over to where Mark had taken his spot on the mat, "you did this
before huh?" but the "huh" was the sound of Chris' back hitting the mat as
Mark tripped him and flipped him down.  Before Chris could catch his breath,
Mark was on top of him, pinning his shoulders to the mat, rubbing his crotch
down into Chris'.  It didn't take long for Chris to flip him to the side,
but not before a faint hardening started in Mark's singlet.

	"What's the fuckin idea!" Chris put a half-nelson on him, jamming his
shoulder down.

	"Remember?  I need three... pins" Mark twisted until his hardening cock was
pressed into Chris' thigh "so just cooperate stud okay?"

	"You know what kinda pins they're talking about right?" Chris whispered and
  flipped him onto his back.  Before Mark could react, Chris was shoving his
crotch into Mark's face.  He bucked hard, but not enough to get the weight
off his shoulders and head.  The feel of Mark's mouth against the fabric
covering his cock was enough to reposition it so it was pointing straight
up, the sensitive underside pressing against the fabric. As Mark started to
roll Chris off him, Chris reached around until his hand was pressed between
Mark's cheeks.  He reached under the leg band until his fingers were grazing
Mark's butt.  As they rolled over, Chris felt Mark's hand do the same to his
crotch.  Before he could react Mark had pulled one of his balls out the
legband.  Chris let out a yelp!

	"Fuck!" he reached down to stuff it back, but that was enough for Mark to
flip him onto his chest.  With both hands pinned under his crotch, he felt
Mark grab the fabric covering his butt and give a yank.  There was the sound
of ripping as a large hole started expanding down to the seam of his crotch.
  His butt, sweaty and hairy, was suddenly exposed. As he felt Mark bring
his weight down onto him, Chris felt the smooth metallic ring of Mark's cock
make contact with his exposed butt. Before it found his hole he twisted Mark
onto his side, freeing his hands in the process. One arm went through Mark's
crotch, his forearm sliding along Mark's now very hard cock which had
somehow been freed from the leg opening, the other arm going around his neck
for leverage. With Mark flipped onto his back, Chris made it to his knees
and then to his feet, breaking free.  As he stood, he felt his balls fall
out the ripped hole, his cock plastered against his belly.

	"You see that coach?  Y'gonna let him play dirty like that?" Chris panted,
looking down at Mark, half in, half out of his singlet. Without a moment's
hesitation, Chris had pulled his singlet down to his waist and was about to
get it passed his butt when Mark grabbed him by the knees and tumbled him to
the mat. A tug-of-war started over Chris' singlet, Mark trying to pull it up
and Chris trying to get free of it.  Finally with Mark back in a
half-nelson, Chris struggled with his free hand to yank it past his thighs
and pull one leg through.  But Mark slipped his sweaty neck through Chris'
hold and twisted around, grabbing the bundled mess of Chris' singlet and
using it to get a secure hold on his right thigh, then twisted him onto his
back, and pulled it forward, until Chris' right knee was pressed against his
shoulder.  Chris was almost pinned, unable to get any leverage with one leg.
  He felt Mark come down on top of his side, their crotches again slamming
against each other.  But Mark's cock was free and with the angle pointing to
the side, was in a perfect position to aim it right at Chris' crack.  Chris
could feel the heat radiating off Mark, and it all seemed to centered on
that cock knocking at the door.  But he had more worries to deal with; the
phone call was still echoing between his ears.  And being bent over without
even a ripped singlet to wear struck him as just disrespectful to the sport.

	"Stop!" Chris yelled, pulling out of the hold.  He crouched on the floor
catching his breath, and catching Mort's eye "c'mon coach I can't wrestle
like this..."

	"Why not?" Mort sat there, his hands in his crotch.

	"C'mon, look at me" Chris taunted "I ain't even got this to wear" pulling
his ragged singlet into his crotch "gimme something else to wrestle in."

	"You know that's all we--"

	"Lemme wear your shorts" Chris got to his knees, still facing the camera
"c'mon..." and there it was.  He had to bite his tongue hard to keep from
smiling.

	"Right."

	"C'mon coach... we're all..." he looked at Mark, hoping he'd get the hint
"guys here.  Right?"

	"You know I can't" Mort was almost to his feet, but stopped and sat back
down.  And getting redder in the face by the second.

	"Y'don't expect me to wrestle like this do you?" pulling his wadded rags
away from his crotch, almost shoving it into the camera "what kinda coach
would expect to watch his wrestlers wrestle butt ass naked?  Ain't that just
a bit... gay?" again the challenge "c'mon coach.  Lemme just wear those
shorts."

	Mort sat there, petrified.  Before he could think of a way out, the phone
rang.

	"I'll get it" Chris jumped up, naked and hard.  Before Mort could react he
answered it and talked into it a few seconds, then hung up.  Mort glanced at
Mark.

	"The principal--" Chris started but was cut off.

	"I'll call him back" Mort glared at Chris.  Y'don't gotta tell me, I know
what he said!

	"So how about it... coach?" Chris again nodded at Mort's crotch.

	"Fuck..." Mort glared not at Chris but out to the darkness.  He almost
stood up but in a half-crouch, untied the running shorts and pulled them
down and off his feet, his ass again glued to the bench.  It wasn't like
Chris got him naked or anything, since Mort was wearing a jockstrap beneath
it.  But the way he was acting you would think the jock was transparent,
Chris thought.

	He went over and picked it up and pulled it up over his hardon.  It still
looked like his axhandle was ready to poke out the waistband.  Mort made a
point of not looking.

	"What about me?" Mark turned to Mort, but before he got the last word out,
Chris had pulled him off his feet in a bearhug and dropped him down to the
mat, flat on his back.  Mark was too winded to fight off Chris' hands
tugging at the shoulder straps of his torn singlet.  Once it was pulled down
to his waist, and both of them were barechested, Chris used his better
technique to spin Mark around, still on his back, until his butt was
pointing towards the camera.  His right arm dug underneath Mark's left
thigh, pulling his knee to his chest, giving him the advantage to go to work
on ripping a larger hole in Mark's crotch this time.  When it was large
enough for everything to fall through, Chris "let" Mark execute his
reversal.  When Chris felt his own knees being pulled up to his chest, and
Mark's hand pulling down the waisband of his shorts, he knew the cool air on
his exposed butt was just the beginning.  When the coolness was replaced by
the heat of Mark's crotch, he knew this was it.

	Chris let out a yell as he fell the hard metal ring find his hole and with
the greasiness of their sweat, start to open him.  He twisted and bucked but
not before it passed the ring!

	With his knees still pressed against his chest, Chris slowly managed to
twist them both to their sides, but not before he felt a good two inches of
that cock enter him. The only way he could go was sideways!

	Chris managed to twist Mark back onto one of his shoulders and before he
could react, brought his hips up, reposition himself on that cock, long
enough for Mark to get the idea he was in the driver's seat now.  Mark felt
the ring start to relax and used the moment to twist Chris all the way over
onto his stomach, almost pulling free in the process.

	"Coach..." Chris panted out between thrusts from the sweaty bulk above him
"four... four... fourth pin... right?"

	"Ah... eh..." Mort was breathing almost as heavy as that hairy ape on top
of him "I... yeah..."

	That "yeah" was all Mark needed to hear and started pistoning his cock into
Chris like there was a time limit.  He almost expected someone to yell out
and stop this, but knew this is what they wanted, what they came for, to see
him throw a mean fuck into this poor slob beneath him.  What the jerk did to
put himself in this predicament he could only guess.  But before anyone
changed their mind he sped up his jabs and just like that deposited a hot
wicked load deep into Chris' writhing ass.  And to underline the point he
pulled his wet slimy dick free and yanked the last drops onto Chris' back.
His face maybe two feet from the camera.

	There was a long quiet hush, heavy breathing and the whirring of the
cameras the only sound.  Finally, the squeek of a folding chair and a jagged
groan from the audience announced someone else emptied a load.  Chris
brought himself to his knees, glad the pads were holding so far.  He could
not imagine getting fucked like that on bare concrete.

	"Coach..." he started "that was the poorest excuse for a pin I ever felt--
I mean saw" he twisted around, seeing Mark pull off his singlet, using it to
clean his crotch "like that part where he cheated on the reversal."

	"What you mean?" Mort looked at Mark, or rather did not look at his
smeared, grimy crotch "what reversal?"

	"Come over here.  I'll show you what I'm talking about" Chris made a point
of pulling the shorts back up to his waist, but it was all pimping for the
cameras at this point.

	"Now wait a minute--"

	"C'mon coach" Chris turned until he was facing Mort "how you expect me to
do this right if I can't explain--"

	"You can explain it from there, I ain't deaf."

	"Never said you were" Chris reached over to grab his towel, mopping his
face "it's just I'm bad at explaining.  I'm better at... showing" letting
his cock poke free of the leg opening.  Mort would have had to be brain-dead
not to get the implication "come here.  I'll show you."

	Mort hesitated too long.  He stole a sideways glance at Mark who joined in,

	"Do it... coach" almost sneering at the word "remember the principal--"

	"Shut up about the--"

	"Shit coach" Chris rubbed his crotch absent-minded as a snake "you think
y'never wrestled or anything.  And you the coach!"

	"Fuck..." again that glare past Chris' shoulder out to the audience.  He
could almost hear those fingers tapping the number into that cellphone
"okay!  You don't have to--"

	"Shit, it ain't like anyone's... forcing you" Chris smiled.  When Mort got
to his feet, he saw why Mort's hands were buried in his crotch the whole
time.  The pouch was nice and full, a few tell-tale stains telling Chris all
he needed to know.  Chris got down on his hands and knees, in position for
his next plan.

	He felt Mort come over to him and crouch down over him, one arm coming
around his waist.

	"Are you kidding?" Chris straightened up "you gonna wear those?" pointing
at his polo shirt, then his "coach" cap "take'm off already."

	"Yeah coach" from Mark, his towel wrapped around him, leaning one shoulder
again the locker "that looks so lame."

	Mort knew he was sliding down into the trap, but even if he had to wrestle
someone as skilled as O'Connoll here, he was not going to let it deteriorate
into something... kinky.  Even if it meant being argued out of his shirt,
the cap tossed aside, just wearing a worn ragged jockstrap.  That's where he
was caught in their trap, and they knew it.

	"For crissakes coach" Mark went to his locker and found his torn red
singlet "at least cover it up!  We can't have that hairy belly in Chris'
face all day" and he tossed it it Mort.  Mort grabbed it out of the air
before it flew over his head and landed somewhere past the lights.

	"Yeah cover up coach" Chris added "what if the principal walks in or
somethin" yeah, maybe get someone from the audience, right Mort?

	Mort held it against his front, knowing it barely fit Mark.  On him it
would look slightly stupid.  But before he realized what he was doing he
turned away from them, and the cameras, and stepped into the singlet.  He
was pulling it up over his jockstrap before he remembered where it had been.
  He could smell the cum and sex stains on it before he saw them.  By then
it was too late to pull it off; he was already smeared with the mess.

	He pulled the polo shirt over his head, his big hairy belly and pecs hidden
by his angle.  When he pulled the straps over his shoulders, he could hear
the fabric rip in places he did not want to find.  He looked down at his
front, the fabric splattered and stained in all the wrong places.  Knowing
what it was only made the pressure under his jock worse.

	"Yeah don't that feel better?" Chris went back to his position on his hands
and knees "okay now I'll show you!  I mean that reversal and all..."

	Mort came down over him, knowing his limited wrestling skills were no match
for someone like Chris.  But he did have several pounds on him, and hoped
that might keep this from being a total humiliation.  And for the first few
minutes it looked like he was holding his own again Chris.  But it soon
became apparent Mort was very hesitant to put his hands or arms anywhere
near Chris' lower regions.  But Chris did not share his squeamishness.  As a
result Mort found himself flat on his back in a Boston crab more than he
wanted.  And each time, more and more of his jock came through the ripping
singlet.  On the third time, Chris' hand "accidentally" ripped the seam of
the crotch from leg to leg, until it looked like a badly torn tank top
barely down to Mort's navel.  Then Chris went in for the kill.

	Chris could see that all this physical contact was making the pouch of
Mort's old jock fill more and more with his hardening cock.  When Chris put
him in a half-nelson, it gave him the chance to rub the pouch with his free
hand.  Yeah, Mort was filling out right on schedule.

	"Knock it off!" Mort panted, but unable to get out of the hold "don't!"

	"This is what I wanted to show ya... coach" Chris spun him a quarter-turn
until he was facing the camera "see, now this reversal..." and a finger
slipped under the pouch, pulling his right testicle free "well it's one
thing Mark did..." and dug under again until half of his hardening dick
poked out the side "but here... lemme show ya."

	The next thing Mort knew he was flipped onto the ground, landing on his
back with a great whoosh!  He barely caught his breath, the lights still
spinning around, when Chris came down hard on him.  He spread himself over
Mort's flattened form, the flipped over until he was face up as well.
Somehow in the process his shorts started to ride down his butt, until his
bare ass was rubbing up and down the front of Mort's jock.  There was little
Mort could do about it, his arms pinned to his sides by Chris'.  He could
only lie there, under Chris' weight slowly feeling Chris' ass rub up and
down, up and down his crotch, until his dick was rubbed free of the pouch.
Once his cock was free and the other ball pulled out as well, the pouch was
pushed to the side, useless but still pinching into his crotch.  But when he
felt his dick being rolled upwards he panicked.

	"No wait!  Don't!" Mort grunted beneath Chris' shoulder "stop."

	"Stop... what coach?" Chris slammed his elbow into Mort's right bicep,
disabling that wing.  He reached down under his ass, found the head of
Mort's now fully hard cock, bent it down until it was rubbing into his
crack.  The head found the hole and Mort groaned and twisted but Chris' ass
pushed down into him.  He was half-way past the ring when Mark came off the
bench,

	"No fair, no fair.  Illegal pin!"

	"Tough!" Chris' elbow came down hard into Mort's left bicep, both wings not
out of commission.  That gave him the maneuvering room to lean forward,
putting more weight on Mort's midsection.  Another inch forced its way into
him.  Chris yelled with the  invasion.  Mark had opened him up, but this was
a lot more girth to deal with than that cock.  This fucking was going to
take some work.

	"Hey Mark" Chris groaned "where's that linament the coach uses--"

	"NO!" Mort screamed, knowing what was coming "not that!"

	"Y'mean this?" Mark reached into his locker, finding the tube of green goo
still there from his last ordeal.  Maybe Chris knew what it was, or not.
Not his problem if the dumb jock didn't.

	"Yeah!" Chris caught the tossed tube, almost coming off the log pressing
into his crack.  There was a brief flailing of arms and hands as Mort tried
to get it first, but his arms were feeling the effects of Chris' elbows.
And when Mark came over and sat down on Mort's chest, his towel tossed to
the side, his dick right in Mort's face, there was not much he could do when
Chris eased off his hardon, smeared it with enough green goo to make Mort
remember this night for a long time, and sat back down on it, taking his
time now to position it just right.  This time the first three to four
inches slid in with little resistance.  Chris let our such a yell the sound
guy almost yanked the headset off.

	Once he adjusted to the stretching in his butt, the gel lubed the final
four inches.  By the time Chris opened his eyes, his butt flat against
Mort's pubes, he realized Mark behind him was feeding that piercing to
Mort's open mouth.

	The re-application of the green shit inside him started the tingling
itching all over again.  Mark's load had somehow stopped the discomfort
earlier, but now it was the docs' office all over again.  So when he felt
Mort's cock swell inside him, and start filling him with the warm cum, he
just leaned back onto Mark's shoulders, waiting for the itching to stop.  It
didn't this time.

	"Damnit!" Chris moaned, and started jacking his cock, camera in his face or
not.  When he heard Mort coughing and gagging on the meat in his mouth,
Chris pulled off that bone and turned to face Mark, "don't!"

	"Don't what?" Mark snapped over his shoulder, very happy with the feelings
coming from Mort's tonsils on his dick.

	"Get off him!"

	"Make me!"

	Chris pulled Mark off Mort's heaving chest so fast he surprised both of
them.  It took little effort to get Mark on his back, his saliva-slick cock
pointing at Chris' slimy crack.

	"Your choice" Chris hissed down at him "either this or..." Chris flipped
him over onto his stomach, his own cock pressed against the small of Mark's
hairy back "or this.  Y'wanna get filmed taking this up yer ass?"

	"Fuck no!"

	"Okay... then 'pin' me!"

	"Fuck!" but Mark grabbed Chris and rolled him over several times, almost
coming off the mat.  Luckily, Mort's semi-conscious bulk was there to
prevent that.  When they threatened to roll right over him, Mort had the
sense to struggle to his kness and crawl to the side.  Then Mark had all the
room he needed to flip Chris onto his back, his legs pulled up and over
Mark's shoulders, with just the right amount of protesting from Chris to
make it look convincing.  So when Chris felt the metal ring sliding around
his crack, he screamed and yelled and protested like it was the end of the
world, all the while easing back onto it, until he felt the hairy forest of
Mark's pubes tickling his balls.

	"Coach make him stop..." Chris moaned, not even sure if he could hear him
"illegal pin, illegal pin!"

	"Fuck both of you" from somewhere back by the bench.  Mort had a
foul-smelling towel over his head, too late to hide but still trying to
distance himself from this.  His cock reminded him he needed to get to the
showers fast.  He almost had to step over the two to get through the doorway
into the shower area.  And of course, one of the cameras followed his every
lopsided slip and stagger.

	Chris wanted to end this, and end this as fast as possible.  The sooner the
hairy ape shot his second, third? load deep into him, the sooner he could
get the hell away from this.  Then he saw the naked shape of Mort's
stumbling form heading for the shower area.  Another light-bulb moment.

	"Are you close?" Chris whispered.

	"Damn yeah!" Mark whispered back "I can't handle that green shit."

	"Finish me in there" Chris nodded towards the sound of a shower starting.

	"You mean?"

	"Yeah" Chris started wiggling away from the connection "we both stink!"

	"But you still--"

	"Yeah" Chris pulled free and rolled onto his side "like before... but
cleaner!"

	"Maybe..." Mark followed Chris to his feet, not sure what he was planning.
All he knew was his dick was on fire, hard as a pipe, and someone was going
to make it jizz one way or another.  At this point he was past caring how or
who.

	When Mort heard -- no felt -- bodies join him in the shower room his first
reaction was to run off the set, filming or no filming.  If his footing had
been less slippery, and his muscles not been one mass of aching, he might
have gotten away before the two grabbed him.

	"Where'd you run away to coach?" Chris had one arm pinned "what about our
lesson?"

	"What you talkin--"

	"The lesson remember?" Chris rubbed his cock back and forth against Mort's
asscheek "you were gonna show me--"

	"Show's over!  Ain't gonna be no fuckin 'lesson'!" Mort tried to pull away,
but his feet kept slipping this way and that "so get outa my face!"

	"What's yer problem?" from Mark, taking the showerhead two down from him
"y'got your money's worth."

	"And then some" Chris took the last head next to Mark "I'm the one should
be griping."

	"Y'didn't have to break my arms" Mort was rubbing his upper arms under the
hot water where the welts were already forming "I oughta send you my doctor
bill."

	"I know this doc y'could see, named Kroos" Mark said to the camera "after
tonight me might wanna 'examine' all three of us."

	"Fuck that" from Chris "if I never see that bastard again--"

	"Hear that?" Mort bellowed over his shoulder towards the darkness "you got
one less patient now!"

	"Guess you're gonna haveta find a replacement now right?" Mark was
scrubbing his crotch like it was some battle royale with his non-existent
crabs.  But still his cock was on fire.  He had a hunch what might put out
the fire,

	"Hey you!" to Chris "let's say your new name is... Kroos! Okay... Kroos...
lemme see ya down on your knees with that mouth wide open!"

	"What?" from Chris and Mort and maybe an echoing response from the
darkness.

	"This is what I think of you and your 'exams'!" Mark directed Chris down to
his knees, almost losing their balance on the soapy floor.  Before Chris
could protest, or give the impression of protesting, his mouth was open and
there was a metal-tipped missile aimed at it.  Chris felt the metal ring rub
around his lips and before it knocked out his front teeth, he opened wide
and felt it sliding over his tongue.  It didn't take much effort to get that
head nice and slick and with a bit of choking Mark's cockhead was back to to
its hard red glory.  When Chris felt it banging into his tonsils he pulled
back, gasping for air.

	"Yeah Kroos y'bastard, take my pole ya big jerk!  That's for all the times
y'made me do those sick things in front of -- I mean all those times!  Now
y'get to kneel in front of me ya sick fuck, my lob in your ugly pussy mouth!
  Take it!  Take my prick you bastard!" Mark grabbed Chris' head and
continued plowing his throat.  He felt Chris choke and gag a few times and
eased up until Chris got the rhythm and tolerance level established.  After
all it was not Chris he was torturing here; it was Kroos, or rather the
whole collection of those cowards hiding out there, too pathetic to show
themselves and face him man to man!  Besides, he told himself, this would
all be cut from the final editing, so it was more a psychological pimping
directed at Kroos than anything else.  And Chris' mouth was little more than
a prop at this point.

	"You two are pathetic" Mort turned off his showerhead and squeezed the
excess water from his hairy arms and legs "I'm outa here."

	He had taken two steps towards the mock-up doorway when that wall phone
rang.  He had to walk by it as he left.  No way he was going to answer it!

	But it kept on ringing and ringing to the point Mark pulled away from Chris
on the  floor and was going to answer it.  Mort had barely found a clean
towel to wrap around his waist when he saw Mark come through the doorway.
And was had no intention of letting Mark get to that phone first, knowing
damn well who was on the one end and what they were going to tell him.  With
one lunge he beat Mark to the damn prop in mid-ring,

	"What?!?!!" he yelled into the phone, almost pushing Mark back into the
shower area  "yeah I can hear ya..." watching Mark stroll back to Chris, his
hard red cock homing in on Chris' still open mouth.  He almost expected a
yard-long tongue to shoot our of Chris' mouth and attack it like a frog
catching an insect.  He was so busy watching the cock pulled into the vacuum
cleaner he didn't hear what the voice on the phone said, "say what?  say
that again?"

	Chris and Mark were too busy dealing with the sensations coming from Chris'
dick to pay attention to what was going on in the other room.  Had they been
watching, they would have seen Mort almost rip the phone off the wall!

	Mort put the phone back to his ear, swearing and choking, arguing more than
listening.  After a long loud episode of Mort trying to fight with the voice
on the line, he started to quiet down, his hand over the receiver maybe
trying to contain the damage, but his face and neck getting redder and
redder.  As one of the cameras came around to him, he slowly nodded, letting
the towel drop to the floor.  The camera zoomed in on his naked front, one
hand rubbing his chest, then his full moist belly, then down to his pubes,
scratching with a certain absent-minded motion.  As the conversation became
more one-sided, Mort's hand started scratching his balls, tugging at them
this way and that, the camera bending down to observe his movements.  When
his hand encircled his hefty flaccid cock and started tugging, it became
apparent Mort was following the directions of the voice on the phone.  Mort
just nodded and scowled, not saying anything.  The only sounds were coming
from the shower room, wet and rhythmic, as Mark continued a slow and steady
fucking of Chris' mouth.

	Mort continued a slow jacking, leaning against the wall, listening to the
voice give instructions.  When his stroking failed to produce the desired
effect, another argument began on the phone, with Mort again losing the
verbal exchange.  His shoulders sagged as he hung up the phone and crawled
the several steps to the lockers, opening one and finding the object he
dreaded.  He pulled out the tube and squeezed an alarming amount into the
palm of his hand.  Before he changed his mind, he smeared it along the
entire length of his cock, his face registering an immediate reaction.  As
his cock turned shiny and green with the coating, swelling and turning a
darkening color, he turned away from the locker, half-closing the door,
hiding himself in the opening as best he could.  That way even the camera
could not see when he smeared the remainder of the green jel into his ass,
his finger forcing itself deep into his hole, getting a second and then a
third glob of the goo as deep into himself as he could.  He glared at the
camera, and past it to the sounds of squeeking chairs coming from the
darkness, then another expression came over him, something between shock and
pain, as the gel took effect.  After he had squeezed more of the gel onto
his fingers pressing more into him, he tossed the empty tube onto the ground
and slammed the door shut with a bang!

	"Damn!" Mark pulled away from Chris' mouth, feeling the itching sensation
on his cock being replaced by something more pleasurable "you suck a mean
cock... Kroos!  I should make you my full-time cocksucker!  You would like
that, wouldn't you?  A real stud cock in your mouth all day long!" then they
both heard the bang from the other room, sounding like a gun shot "Shit!
What was that?"

	"Somebody's pissed!" Chris struggled to his feet, his knees red and stamped
with the impressions from the tiles.  His cock hung down red and full, not
hard but still pumped.  The muscles in his chest and stomach flexed and
shone from his exertions.  Their camera stayed in place, not missing a beat
"guess our... 'coach' had enough, huh?"

	"Man, talk about reluctant..." Mark eased back into the shower, feeling the
water cooling off, running non-stop the whole time "never saw anybody so
chickenshit to blow a load, yet his cock hard a rock the whole time!  Make
up his mind already!"

	"Shit..." Chris muttered close enough so Mark could hear "think somebody
did..."

	Mark turned to where Chris nodded, seeing Mort, naked and harder than he'd
ever seen, come into the shower room, and take his spot under his former
shower head.  He turned it on, but stepped away fast, feeling how cool the
water had turned in his absence.  Not that he wanted to rinse off anyway.
He stood there his hands behind him facing the camera, his hard cock covered
with the green goo, throbbing and shaking, not daring to look at the two.
After the water turned from cold to lukewarm, he started to rinse his hands
and arms, and no more.  Mark coughed,

	"You okay over there?"

	"Yeah" Mort growled "just fine."

	"Y'need any help... coach?" Chris saw the lubed cock and had a good idea it
was meant for him "want me t'scrub... yer back?"

	"Funny..." Mort closed his eyes, letting the water warm as it splashed off
his forearms.  His eyes flew open when the water went to hot, Chris'
abandoned shower head going dead.  Before he could re-adjust the
temperature, Mark's shower went dry as well!

	"What the hell?" Mark stepped away from his spot "didn't you pay the water
bill again?"

	"Dunno..." Mort stepped away from his, knowing what he had to say "guess
you... you gotta... use mine" turning to face them finally.  Chris saw the
expression, having a very good idea why that phone rang.  And why that
locker door slammed loud enough to be heard four blocks away.

	"Maybe..." Chris was the first to join Mort under the only working
showerhead "maybe y'wanna scrub MY back. Right coach?"

	He didn't have to wait for an answer.  The second camera coming around the
corner was answer enough.  Chris looked at Mark, nodded at the second
camera, and took his spot under the shower, leaning back and spreading his
legs.  When Mark came over and started bending over Chris' back, Chris said,

	"No... let the coach here... do that."

	Mark stepped aside as Mort replaced him.  He brought his front close to
Chris' backside, looking down at his green cock aiming at that asscrack a
few inches away.  He hesitated only a moment before he felt Mark behind him,
reaching around and grabbing his pole at the base and before he could catch
his balance, felt the head directed into the warm wet crack and then his
goo-lubed head was pushed against Chris' butthole.  As he felt Mark press
against his back, Mort was eased forward, his throbbing burning cock sliding
deep into that spasming ass with one long slow push.  Chris grabbed the wall
in front of him to balance the weight on his back, the hot water running
down his shoulder and side.  He was not in his stance ten seconds before he
felt the sharp rapid thrusts in his hole, Mort fucking him like he was going
to lose it any minute.  Again and again, harder and faster he slammed his
cock deep into Chris' spasming butt, the new coating of jel making Chris see
stars.  Chris was about to reach down and start jacking off when he felt
Mort plunge deep and stop.  Damn! the big lug is blowing his load already,
Chris thought.  But he felt nothing inside him, no final swelling, no
pumping of hot jizz deep in his chute.  Instead he heard Mort give a deep,
strangled groan as he fell forward onto his back, his hairy chest scratching
Chris' smooth back.

	Mort felt the metal ring find his lubricated crack, and when Mark started
to shove his ever-hard cockhead against his hole he had little choice but to
brace himself and let it happen.  The instructions on the phone were crystal
clear.  As were the consequences if he refused.  So when the head stretched
his ring hard, Mort leaned forward onto Chris' back, and did all he could to
make the invasion less painful.  But when the head popped past the ring,
Mort almost lost it.  This was a hell of lot bigger than that dildo and
damn! knowing this was being broadcast for the whole world to see!  When he
felt the tickling of Mark's bush against his ass, he knew it could not be
worse.  He was being butt-fucked!  On camera!  He almost forgot his own hard
cock was buried deep inside another guy's ass, even with the gel making his
cock itch and tingle.  The sensations coming from his ass made everything
else -- the water bouncing in his face, the heat from the lights, the
pulsing in his cock -- the smell of their bodies and the shower room --
everything faded into the distance, except for what that cock was doing to
his guts!  When it started a steady pistoning in and out of him, burning a
hole in his prostate, he was too far gone even to realize his cock was
swelling and pumping his load deep inside the fiery hot hole of the muscular
ass beneath him.  Only when his cock started to get raw from the constant
rubbing did Chris ease away from their connection, his hole no less sore.

	"Stop... please..." Mort moaned, watching his dick come into the light
"wait..."  He looked down, seeing the last of his sperm oozing at the tip.
Its whiteness was very apparent against the dark redness of his cock, shiny
and stretched from its recent orgasm.  When he saw that he realized he just
came.  He was more surprised than relieved.

	"What got into you... coach?" Chris grabbed him under his arms, steadying
him before he toppled under Mark's weight "or should I say, me?" grabbing
Mort's cock, sticky and trying to deflate.  Chris' grip had other ideas for
it "you throw a mean fuck... for someone who ain't into this shit!"  tugging
and pulling at Mort in time to Mark's slow grinding.

	"Yeah hold him like that" Mark's grunting speading up in time to his steady
thrusts "I wanna breed this big --"

	"No!" Chris released his hold on Mort.  As soon as he did, he started to
topple like a pile of wet boxes.  Chris was there to hit the floor without
doing any damage.  Mark came unglued as Mort collapsed onto Chris.

	"Wait!  I ain't got my -- "

	"Ya ready to blow your load?" Chris rolled Mort onto his stomach, then
crouched over him, his own weight on his hands and knees "just like
before..." leaning his ass back at Mark.  Mark did not need a roadmap.  His
dick was back in Chris' still-stretched hole before Chris could finish his
sentence.

	Mark's guided missile was sliding in for the final thrust when the combined
juices inside of Chris' hole pushed him over the top.  Knowing he was
pumping his load into Mort's caused his cock to spasm and explode like he
never did before.  He did not care if he was ripping Chris up, he was
pumping like crazy, overwhelmed by the most intense orgasm of his life!  He
thought his cock was going to punch a hole right through Chris and into Mort
the way he was jabbing harder and harder, all the over-sized muscles in his
body going into this.  All the years of pumping iron, of pushing his body
harder and harder, were now concentrated in this one hard frenzied fuck.

	Chris felt his asshole stretched and burning, then the unmistakeable warmth
of Mark's load filling his guts, his own cock throbbing from the pressure
against his prostate.  His body took over then, his dick went into auto mode
and found the greased crack beneath him.  He had no idea he had penetrated
Mort's greasy chute until he felt Mark force load after load to explode from
him, deep into Mort's ass.  Then he passed out.



	When Chris came to he was flat as a pancake on the wrestling mat in the
locker area.  He felt especially flattened because he was aware of someone's
heavy torso lying on top of him as he was regaining consciousness.  He
opened his eyes and twisted his head to see who it was, but only caught a
shadow disappearing back into the darkness.  And damn was his butt sore now!
  Whoever it was had treated him to one serious asspounding!

	He looked down at himself to see he had somehow gotten back into his torn
wrestling singlet, but his ass and legs were still bare naked and slick with
sweat under the lights.  And the sensation of his ears swollen shut was not
from someone punching the shit out of him.  Instead the numbing pressure was
from the wrestling headgear someone had strapped onto him while he was out
cold.  And he did not have to turn around to know that bright glare was from
the cameras behind him.  They were still recording!

	"Rise and shine, sleepyhead" and there was Mark's face in his line of sight
"sleeping off your hangover?"

	"Wha?" Chris could manage as Mark grabbed him by the jaw, lifting his head
up.

	"Maaaan when you get drunk..." Mark grabbed him under the arms, pulling him
to his knees "you go nuts!  Maaaan the whole school could hear you screaming
fuck-me-coach fuck-me-coach!  So that's it?  You get drunk and suddenly
you're this big pussy?"

	"What're ya talkin about?"

	"Coach and I heard the racket we come in here and daaaaamn Chris you lettin
the janitor fuck you in the ass?  What's up with that?"

	"What are you TALKING ABOUT?  I never let--"

	"So that's your scene now huh?  You let dudes fuck you like a pussy?  Well
if that's your story" Mark started rubbing himself through his red singlet,
still torn and barely covering his goods "how about some of this?"

	"Stop!  Enough already!"

	"Naw we ain't done here" Mark grabbed the rag doll that was Chris, and
lifted him to his feet "not until I get me some of that ass" leaning in
whispering "just go along, last scene, we'll make it fast" then loud enough
to be heard "c'mere pussy boy we're gonna see if y'like getting dicked or
not.  Lemme see ya pop yer load with a dick in yer hole..."

	"C'mon Mark y'just got off me."

	"Me?  No such luck kiddo" Mark had him on his feet and was leading him over
to the bench "you had me in you and you'd remember it."

	"Who?" Chris felt himself lowered onto the bench, then rolled onto his back
"but..."

	"You don't remember?" Mark whispered and Chris nodded no.  Mark raised his
finger to his lips to shush him and whispered "I'll tell ya later" then
aloud "you just get comfortable like and let me do this right."

	Chris lay flat on the bench trying to recover from all of this.  He was not
sure which was worse, passing out and waking up like this, or knowing
someone -- neither Mark nor Mort? -- had just plowed him a new asshole.  He
could vaguely smell the after-shave? deodorant? on him, and it didn't come
from either of those two.  So who was it?  Kroos?  One of those cameramen?
Someone from "out there"?

	He didn't have much time to consider the possibilities before he felt Mark
sliding him to the end of the bench and lifting his legs, exposing his ass
for yet another assault.  He felt Mark's hand jacking that cock back to
something like hardness, then felt that familiar metal invader at his wet
soreness down there.  Before his tortured flesh could react Mark was
squeezing his knob past Chris' little resistance.  He closed his eyes
waiting for the long slow fuck.

	"Yeah, y'like that?" Mark gripped himself tight, forcing the first half
into Chris' oozing hole.  He had so much lube and cum in him he was as slick
as he needed.  With a few plunges in and out, Mark felt his cock coming back
to hard.  Yeah, mister born-to-fuck rides again! he smirked to himself.  No
wonder they collared him for this shit.  Once they saw he could fuck all day
and all night, they knew they had their almost willing victim.  Not that he
minded being fuck-for-pay or anything.  It just would have been so much
better had it been some young silicon-enhanced babe gripping his dick, and
not this oversized jock.  His dick could fuck anyone, male or female, but
still, given the choice, he would choose the blond bimbo every time.  Still,
a fuck's a fuck.

	Mark was getting into his rhythm when the inner door opened and there was
Mort.  Wearing only that towel.

	"Hey coach" Mark started in "look what we got here!  A real live fucktoy!"

	"What are you doing?  You can't be--"

	"Relax coach, he likes it" looking down at Chris' front, grabbing him back
his balls "don't ya?"

	"Oawww" Chris moaned.  Mark's grip was not not tight enough to hurt, but
his balls had been through so much abuse so far, they were beyond sensitive
"oohhhh..."

	"See?  He likes getting dicked like this" Mark looked at the towel "c'mere
and see for yourself."

	"Not happening."

	"C'mon coach" Mark continued with the script "don't ya wanna feel something
hot around that cock of yours?"

	"Well..." Mort glanced at the phone.

	"Just let'm suck on ya a while" Mark continued his in and out thrusts slow
enough for the camera to reposition itself "you'd like that right?"

	"Maybe" from both Mort and Chris at the same time.  Mark bit his lip to
keep from smiling.

	Mort came over to the bench where Chris' head was lying and straddled it,
losing the towel in the process.  He lowered his hairy thighs down to Chris'
face, feeding him his  low hanging balls.  Chris started licking and gnawing
at them, knowing worse was to come.  When Mort bent his dick down for some
tongue, Chris suctioned it into him.  As Mort started a slow crouching in
and out of Chris' mouth, Mark's hand went from Chris' balls to his cock.
When he started a slow leisurely jacking, Chris knew he was expected to show
wood for the cameras.  When the hand returned to his cock, slick with Mark's
spit -- or worse! -- Chris concentrated on getting that dick in his mouth
nice and hard.  They both came back to full hard about the same time.

	Mark leaned down until he was only a foot above Chris' face and whispered,

	"Okay last part.  We're gonna take turns until ya blow.  Got it?"

	Chris could only nod, his mouth full of cock.  That hand on his own meat
was speading up, rubbing the stretched skin sore with it's rapid grip.  Just
when he started to feel the familiar tightening and building up, Mark pulled
out.

	"Okay... coach.  Your turn" and Mark stepped away from his spot, motioning
for Mort to trade places "that is unless you want YOUR butt on that bench "
he whispered.

	Mort pulled out of Chris' mouth fast and was lifting his legs up to his
shoulders before Mark had his dick wiped clean on that towel.  His
spit-coated cock found Chris' hole, but hardly needed any more lubrication.
He slid into that hot butt in one forward thrust, Chris arching and moaning
with the invasion.  Mort's hand replaced Mark's on Chris' dick, amazed how
hard it was staying through all of this.

	The two switched back and forth several times more, each time bringing
Chris close to blowing, then stopping for the few seconds it took to change
spots.  Finally Mort's thrusts got more and more violent.

	"You gonna cum?" Mark pulled his cock free of Chris' mouth, jacking it
furiously "you ready to pop?"

	"Fuck yeah" Mort pulled all the way out, grabbing it behind the head.

	"Wait a sec" and Mark jumped over to one of the lockers. He snapped it open
and after two seconds of rummaging found what he wanted.  That dildo.

	"Chris here needs something bigger than our dicks to make him embarrass
himself, right?"  Mark brought it over so Chris could see what he had.
Chris almost gasped at the size of it.

	It had been modelled on some twelve inch super-hung porn star or something.
  The fact it was made from a dark brown latex hinted at the ethnic makeup
of the original owner.  Chris moaned,

	"No please... not that..."

	"Tough luck Chris" and Mark handed it to him "you fuck yourself with this.
Watching that'll give us two real men here all the stimulation we need to
finally blow our juice.  Got it?"

	"No... don't make me..."

	"Hurry up" Mark started jacking himself with one hand, Chris' cock with the
other "y'don't want... the janitor coming back and -- "

	"NO!" Chris held it up, but not looking at it.  Before anyone could suggest
more green goo for lube, he raised his knees and brought the head to his
loose hole.  When the material of the dildo stretched enough to allow a bit
of the head to widen him he wondered how the rest could ever get inside.  He
was too loosened and filled with ooze to  notice the head squeeze in and
before he knew it, that stretching feeling was coming from his prostate.  He
closed his eyes as that hand on his cock was giving no indication of
stopping this time.  They were gonna let him cum.

	"Yeah, fuckboy, fuck yourself with that black dildo.  Fuck yourself and
make us cum.  Just like some big black stud is fucking you for us to watch,
yeah" Mark was jacking himself and Chris with every intention of blasting
his load all over Chris' face any second "fuck yerself ya stud fuck
yerself!"

	Mort's hand was a blur on his own cock, wanting this to end now.  He felt
himself getting very close, all the mouth and ass on his cock just a warm-up
for the more familiar feelings of what he right hand was capable of.  When
he started rocking and grunting he heard Mark yell at him to cum on Chris'
face.  When his cock exploded he was too far into it to see where it was
landing.

	Mark's hand on Chris' cock was a blur as well, as Chris was forcing that
heavy latex battering ram again and again into his prostate.  When that hand
on his cock shifted grip that was it.  As he yelled "fuck me ben fuck me
ben" he felt the explosion pulled from him and then the hotness splatter all
into his nose and his mouth and then a second splattering all over his
chest.  But his grip on that telephone pole is his hole only held tighter.
Then the room spun around three times and went dark.

	Chris did not remember how he got into the shower or dried off and back
into his street clothes.  Sometime around the time of tying his shoes did
the fogginess clear.  He wanted to tear out to the audience and grab every
last one of those sick voyeurs out there, shaking them and memorizing their
faces.  But his legs were more or less jelly, in no small part from being
bent into a pretzel for most of the evening.

	He was talking with Mark beside him on the bench at one point, realizing he
was not a total jerk after all.  Most of his pompous asshole personality was
really just a pose for the cameras.  Once the lights were off and the
cameras rolled away, he was almost shy.  Chris wanted to interrogate him as
to why he was doing all this, but was almost feeling sorry for him as well.
He did not want to press him when he looked so vulnerable as he did sitting
quietly on the bench.  Chris knew this was the exact moment to get some
answers, but for no reason held back.  When the two of them were leaving, he
held back on the impulse to hug him around the shoulder.  Instead he used
the gesture to mask his motion of reaching down and picking up an item off
the table by the "mixing board", slipping it smoothly and unnoticed into his
jacket pocket.  He forgot about it until days later when his wife was doing
the laundry.  Only then did he see what he had grabbed that night off the
table, lying there overlooked by the guys who were responsible for this
production.  He held in his hands a cassette bearing the name and address --
actually two addresses -- of a company called "Medical Productions and
Distributions".  Chris did not realize he was holding a ticking timebomb.