Date: Wed, 12 Oct 2022 16:28:46 +0000
From: Greg S <SubServeGuy@hotmail.com>
Subject: Perceptions - Chapter 1

Perceptions - Chapter 1

It was just the two of us alone in the locker room. I hate being here
without a crowd around to provide witnesses and safety.  Especially with
this smug young prick.  He acts like he knows me even though he's not in my
class (he's a year younger) and we don't spend time together outside of
practice or have any of the same friends.

I always made sure that I moved fast in here and was gone before most of
the other guys departed, but tonight coach wanted to go over some details
of my recent wrestling matches, and there was nothing I could do.  Why is
he still here I think when I barrel around the corner from the showers in
my towel.  It's like he's moving in slow motion as I start pulling stuff
from my locker, rushing to get out of there.

"What's the rush?" He questions, noticing my frenetic pace.  "Uhh,
nothing..... I'm just late for something." I lie.

I notice his masculine, cocky stance, and his lean, angular, sinewy body.
It's all animal efficiency, primed for results. He carries himself this way
just looking for someone to question him so that he can destroy them.  It's
not his size that intimidates, it's his nature.  Never a smile, but more of
a smirk or a sly grin typically on his face when he is pleased.  I just so
want to be out of here, and NOW!

"So, what happened to you in our practice match today?", he questions as if
he really doesn't know.  "You beat me" I answer flatly and with a hint of
attitude.  "How can that be?" He asks playfully as if we are buddies,
though we definitely aren't.  Holding with my sarcastic approach, I suggest
in the most annoyed way, "because you are better."  As if laying out
evidence, he informs me, "Well, you're older, so you've had more time to
practice and develop, plus you are bigger than I am too.  You have more
muscle built up, and I think you lift more than I do at weight practice.
Hmmmmm" He leaves it there for a moment.

I continue rushing to get out of this pressure chamber.  "Do you like
winning Greg?" He asks me very directly.  "Of course" I say, unable to
resist rolling my eyes at him.  "Ok, let me rephrase", he injects.  "Do you
like beating me?"  I find myself unable to answer and I just look in his
eyes and then down at the floor.  I'm stuck, frozen, trapped.  `Fuck, fuck,
fuck' I say to myself quietly.  He presses, "Are you even capable of
competing against me?". I still can't answer. "Do you find yourself unable
to put up any kind of defense with me?", he pokes, just letting it lie
there in the air.  All of my delicate deeply hidden truths; and he is just
mercilessly tearing them out and laying them everywhere to be witnessed.
"Is it just me, or is it all men like me that you have no power against?"
I am still unable to act, frozen in place knowing that silence will not
save me, but knowing anything else is too painful at this moment.

He closes in, getting his mouth close to my ear as he heaves his gym bag
over his shoulder and whispers "Things are gonna change around here for you
and for me faggot.  Have a good night."

I watch him strut out as I sink to the bench and worry what this means for
me.