Date: Tue, 9 Mar 2021 14:08:41 +0000 (UTC) From: Abra Cadabra Subject: slither into ruin part 3 *** SLITHER INTO RUIN *** *** Chapter 3 *** *** Ocean Muscle *** Ken was marked by the serpent – or Chinese dragon in his case – wrapped around his right thigh and abs. The gymnast slipped into his hoodie jacket, closed it and said, "I don't fucking think so, you slithering cunt." Squatting, he pulled his thong aside, inserted the lightly squeezed hot sauce bottle into his hole and gave himself the Cobra's Bite without hesitation. Going by his goofy grimace of horror he had underestimated the burn. "Yeah dude," Bryce said with a smirk. "Not so cocky anymore, huh?" The swimmer was hopping from one leg to the other, eyes on the surrounding. People watching the nearby baseball training were noticing their antics. So far, nobody moved to confront the stripping hunks but more and more eyes were on them. "Whatever, asshole," Ken said, his voice cracking. He rose and handed his little phone over. His lockscreen was a naked anime girl, his background was a shirtless gym mirror selfie. "Take it before the snake makes me drop it. Next stop is- Oooof, this burn fucks me up." He exhaled a few times and walked in a circle. "The Sea Serpent at Sandhill Beach. Check how we get there." Bryce carried their backpack again and used Ken's map to find the path. They started walking. Ken's jacket stayed open, showing off his half-erect package in the shiny thing. Bryce was lightly sweating and had the tank top tied around his hip. Only Marsh was still clothed, which didn't hide his semi-hardon at all. "Sandhill is *45 minutes* by foot, dude," Bryce said. Marsh slapped him in the back. "Bruh, check the SOLR." "Uh... San Ophion Loop Rail takes... eight minutes." "Can we go for eight minutes like this?" Marsh said, doubtful. "Maybe we have to order a driver." "And wait a half hour for one to show up?" Ken said and punched Marsh in the arm. "Fuck that, man." They half-jogged to the Bay Harbor loop station around the corner. Bryce was the only one with a `spicy swagger' now. The other hunks had gotten used to walking with a hole on fire. "You gotta buy me a ticket, man," Ken said. "I'm poor." "You can buy *one* ticket, asshole," Bryce said. "I'm the *navigator*," Ken said with indignation. "You'd be lost without me." "Whatever, cheapskate." Marsh chuckled. It had been forever since they'd last had this conversation. But Bryce always ended up paying. They ascended the steps to the open station, joining a crowd of three dozen people spread along the rail. "Train's about to pull in," Marsh said. "Do y'all think this burn'll keep the snake awa- hggng." His throat was gripped. He hadn't noticed the ouroboros sneak up on his neck under the tank top. "The-... there it is, fu-... fuck." "No way we're making eight minutes," Ken said and gave Marsh a nut-tap that made the bodybuilder jolt. Then another. "We gotta refill," Bryce said and nut-tapped, too. "I swear it's n-... not burning less yet." Marsh nut-tapped himself with a grimace of regret. "I need some-... something hotter." Ken took over the backpack and pulled out a new squeeze bottle. "This translates to Viper's Sting. That's as spicy as my parents' dishes go, man. About twice as fucked up as Cobra's Bite." Marsh wanted to say `no choice' but no amount of ball-spanking was letting him breathe anymore. The train pulled in, loudly rattling. A blue and copper metal snake full of people. Marsh couldn't wait. They'd be even *more* watched inside the train. He pulled his compressions shorts aside, slipped the cap into his hole and gave it a squeeze. He thought he had gotten used to the slow, horrible onset of ass-burns, but he was discovering whole new ways of suffering. He wanted to scream or hit something. The pain made him ready to kill. Pure *sensation* was gripping his mind, overwriting anything else. The boys had to drag him into the train because his legs failed. Every time his glutes got activated, it made his guts rub inside and the burn reset to the first second of intensity. He could feel his whole body heating up. Throughout all this, his dick pulsed against the tight shorts and rose. There wasn't a free seat in the carriage. The hunks stood amidst a crowd of locals and tourists and none were quite as scantily clad as them. Bryce's shirtlessness stood out most of all but he didn't seem to mind. Standing skin on skin, Marsh could secretly nut-tap himself anytime he felt his airways tighten. His whole world was focused on his hole and balls, pain radiating into his body like a slo-mo explosion. The light grip around his package kept him erect. He kept it subtle by pressing his crotch into Ken's hip from the side. By the time the train pulled into Vista Hills, he was lightly sweating. He was starting to feel suffocated in a more colloquial way. He'd puke if he didn't strip. Most of the tourists got off and freed up enough seats for the trio to catch a row along the corridor. Marsh gave himself one last nut-hammering and tore his shirt off. Tucking it into the front of his shorts mercifully obscured the erection. The gleaming muscle boy kept an eye on the serpent that masqueraded as a neck and shoulder tattoo. He was breathing fine for the moment but his light-headedness increased, arising from the searing pain in his ass. He grounded himself with the harshest trance-core soundtracks on his phone and stayed distracted by scrolling through Clapper. He was getting showered in praise, star-eye emoji and dickpics from delusional homos. Par for the course, but the volume had picked up. He had gained a thousand followers since this morning. "Oh no," Bryce whispered. He held out his ink marked arm. "It's on me. Help me, dude." As the loop rail rounded its sharpest curve, Marsh and Ken stood to the sides of their buddy to shield him. It was still obvious for anyone looking that he was squirting something up his ass, but there weren't many eyes around and they'd hopefully be distracted by Marsh's nearly naked body and his compression-clad glutes or by Ken's amazing legs. Bryce handed the Viper's Sting bottle back and froze mid-motion. He tore eyes and mouth wide open, then closed both as if he had bitten into a lemon. Marsh sat down and rammed his fist into Bryce's nuts to let the boy breathe. The blond swimmer inhaled sharply. "Fuuuck my life, dude." Ken dropped between them and threw his arms around their shoulders, spreading his naked legs to push theirs in a gesture of dominance. "Shield me when the time comes. Man, not looking forward to this fuckery." The train held at Mexico Ave and more people got off than on. Now with elbow-room, the hunks took their selfie sticks out and made some pics with all of them in frame, throwing the horn-sign up, poking their tongues out, arms around each other's shoulders, bumping each other. It kept Bryce save without ball-busting. They stopped when Ken got snaked, finishing with a clip of him getting nut-tapped by both. Marsh posted the pic collection as: He added the emoji for each boy they used in the group chat. The bull for himself, the shark for Bryce, the dragon for Ken. Then he reclapped his own nude video to get more views. When he put his phone back in the backpack, Ken was done ass-burning himself. He looked angry, gripping his own thighs. The gymnast nut-busted himself to make the ouroboros lose its grip. "I'm gonna die, man. I thought I was used to spicy, but I'm bitching out like a cocksucking whiteboy who can't handle a fucking potato chip." He closed his hoodie to cover the growing bulge. His legs were bouncing, making his shapely thighs shake. "Do we deserve it?" Bryce said, uncomfortably squirming on the seat. "We know what happened at Sandhill Beach." "Huh?" Ken made and choked. He pressed down on his nuts, convulsing. "What *did* we do there? My cousin once got me to spray tag a- Oh, *that*. Man, I was wasted. How did I even aim?" Marsh grunted. The school's `sustainable fishing festival' during their junior year. The teachers had been confiscating every bit of alcohol smuggled in. So the three of them got drunk outside, like much of the student body, then pissed in the fruit punch when the students were singing by the ocean and told everyone they had secretly `spiked' it. "Man, we were assholes." Ken pulled his hoodie down, but he was obviously erect. The thong couldn't be stretchy enough to hold his dick and it had certainly slipped out. "I banged that cheerleader chick stupid behind the tent after, and blacked out. But it was kinda fucked up, man." Bryce chuckled. "It was hilarious, dude. And almost nobody drank that shit anyway." "You're both right, bruh," Marsh said, flexing his ass in the rhythm of his favorite trance-metal beats. "We are assholes and it was funny as fuck. I'd do it again but I don't get this wasted anymore. And remember the shoes? Hehe." Several of the students had gone into the water in the dark against their teacher's warnings. The hunks had used the opportunity to `hide' as many unattended shoes as they could carry in a trashcan down the road. Nobody ever found out. Ken slapped his balls a few times with no regard for subtlety and convulsed. "Man, you'd think a magic snake god has bigger worries than some teens having a good time. It might as well be mad about that time Marshmallow kicked Toby off the surfboard." "I thought the cocksucker could take a joke," Marsh said, grinning at the memory. "He didn't have to be so a cunt about it." They exited at the Marina loop station. As the warm outside breeze hit them, Ken took off his hoodie jacket, also lightly sweating, and tied it around his hips. They had matching aesthetics now. The short boulevard led directly to the marina, but the boys turned southeast for the beach. Starting at the mouth of White River, a broad stretch of white sand collected tourists and locals alike. Among surfers and sunbathers the boys barely stood out, if not for their excellent physiques. Lightly glistening with sweat from the Viper's Sting up their asses, they walked along the retaining wall as if nothing were wrong. "Where to, dude?" Bryce asked and kneed the gymnast in the butt. Ken switched from Clapper to the map and flashed his middle finger at the blond. "Just a minute this way. Man, I haven't been at the beach since I worked at that fucking yacht club for rich assholes." "Maybe that's why the sea serpent hates us," Marsh said and slapped Ken's neck. "Your customer service manners are shit, bruh." "Fuck you," Ken said and tried to nut-tap Marsh, who turned away. "Those moneylickers were lucky I only *spat* in their champagne." "Ugh, snake's back," Marsh said, raising his suddenly tattooed arm. "On it, dude," Bryce said and extended his selfie stick. "Livestream?" "Sure. Let's see if that does any fucking good." Bryce walked a few steps ahead and chatted at the camera, giving the horn-sign and sticking his tongue out. Marsh now had to accept the nut-taps from Ken but they were no longer playful. The Asian fitness influencer put enough force behind his slaps to activate Marsh's fight reflex. But the bodybuilder had to keep smiling and flexing for the camera as if he could take pain like the champ he pretended to be on Clapper. He laid his beefy arm around the shorter guy's broad shoulders for reassurance. He was most of the way back to an erection, but his short hung loosely over the compression shorts for cover. "The spot's coming up," Ken said and hammered his fist into Marsh's crotch, making the bigger hunk jolt. At least the livestream seemed to work. The serpent was hiding out on Marsh's back. "Oh, look," Bryce said to them and the camera. "Muscle beach. Let's hop down." The minor open air gym was exactly where they needed to go. Just down the retaining wall was the sea serpent's territory. Marsh grabbed Ken's arm mid-swing. "Bro, I'm not even *joking*." He meant to say `choking' but he was on livestream and didn't want to confuse his audience. Ken got the message anyway. "Bryce," Ken said. "Your turn?" He nodded at the gym equipment but was clearly talking about the snake. Marsh took the backpack and rummaged for protein powder. Meanwhile the lean swimmer set up his phone, dropped his shirt and got started on pull ups with some abs contractions. Semi-hard in his red speedo, he had an audience of five in real life and over a hundred on Clapper. Ken boxed Bryce's abs to help strengthen them and `as a joke' hit him in the nuts every now and then. Still keenly aware of the Viper's Sting in his ass, Marsh jogged past empty towels and sunbathing chicks in bikinis, holding a cup of powder. At the edge of the waves, he slipped out of his shoes. He didn't know how far he had to go into the water so he just started to swim, the cup's handle in his mouth to keep it dry for now. He was a decent swimmer, even if it had been a while. Marsh soon discovered an issue he would have never expected. The ocean water made his ass-burn worse. What he had thought was still 90% of the original sting had in fact faded to something quite bearable. Now, it felt just like a fresh injection. The thickly muscled hunk cursed through his tightly shut lips and put his anger into the swim. When he felt he had made good distance he took the cup into his hand, treading water in the gentle waves, and swung it ahead. "Take that fucking sacrifice and suck my dick." There was a scaly sheen to the waves for a moment – a change in texture too fast to consciously register. The ocean shifted, as if something immense and solid was moving against the currents. By the time Marsh had paddled back to shore, Bryce was snake-free. Ken had set up his own phone and was streaming to his followers. The self-proclaimed `fitking' was doing crunches in front of almost two hundred virtual eye-pairs, with Bryce holding his feet down and adding the occasional ball-smack. "Nice boner, dude," Bryce said and pointed the phone at the wet bodybuilder. "No homo." Marsh realized he had lost the shirt and his hardon was impossible to hide, slightly pointing up along his hip. He thrusted the air with his tongue out, transitioned into `most muscular' pose and kept thrusting until Bryce focused back on Ken. Marsh's feet were dry when Ken's turn was over and he slipped into his sneakers. "Send me the clip, bruh," Marsh said. "The part where I fuck the air." He kept getting glances from beach-goers who noticed his dick. It was still semi-hard but the compression shorts would have made it obscene even when soft. Ken sent the clip from his livestream and Marsh posted is as: As a courtesy he made a Clap with: He had a flood of unanswered messages. No way he'd get around to those today. For the first time, his Mentions were also overwhelmed. Hundreds of people Clapping at Marsh_the_Swole to thank him and offer to worship. He was almost grateful the day had gone this way. "Next up..." Ken said at his phone. "The Earth Serpent." "Let me fucking guess," Marsh said. "The tunnel? I mean, a bunch of those kids are in prison now, for fuck's sake." The closed off storm sewer behind Rivera High School had been a hangout for stoners, losers and kids with certain "tendencies". Bryce sighed. "We were never even there when the *heavy* shit went down. I mean, dude, I never made anyone *bleed*. But I guess I groped a bunch of chicks who couldn't get their own supply." "Nope," Ken said. "Not that fucking hellhole. The snake lives in the middle of the river." Marsh exhaled sharply. "We wrecked so much of this town, we got *spares*, bruh. Wait, why is the *Earth* snake in the fucking water?" Ken started walking back toward the loop station, past low rise hotels and overpriced souvenir shops. "White River was redirected after the eighteen-something flood. Originally the natives here-" Brace gave the boy a slap on the neck. "Nerd!" Ken rammed his fist into the blond's thigh. "Yo, dickstain, it says that on the snake website." Bryce raised both middle fingers in Ken's face. "Snake nerd!" They had a friendly wrestle amidst mildly concerned tourists in gaudy shirts. Marsh filmed their play-fight for Clapper. He'd normally tell them to go for the nuts but that joke didn't feel right today. Afterward, Bryce vanished into a store, grabbing something to cool down while the others went ahead. He reached them with cans of Mutant Energy – `regular' for Marsh, `white' for Ken, `mango' for himself. Marsh felt a pang of nostalgia, looking at the green M. They'd been practically addicted to Mutant in high school, keeping them awake in class after a night of gaming. Bryce was filming Ken and himself having a burping contest. Marsh pulled the protein powder bag from their inventory, grabbed a fistful of powder and dropped it in his mouth, using Mutant Energy to flush the dust down, letting it rain from his chin. "Marshmallow dude," Bryce said with a laugh. "Stream chat is calling you `peak douche'. Gotta agree." Marsh shrugged. "My macros are fucked for the day but I'm not skipping this, bruh. And for the record, eating straight whey is alpha as fuck." "Know what? Gimmi." The other hunks reached for the bag, too, and flushed a handful of whey down with Mutant. Bryce coughed a cloud into his own face and ended the stream. "Weak beta behavior," the gymnast said to the swimmer. "Might as well suck a dick now, Brycie-boy," Marsh said. "Fuck you," Bryce said, blinking away tears. "So what's the plan?" "You rent us a boat," Ken said. "The fuck? Why me?" "You're loaded." "My family is *middle class*." "Middle class doesn't have marble flooring in the whole mansion." "Fuck you." Marsh had heard this conversation repeat often enough to know he had to break the cycle. "Bryce! Rent us a fucking boat. You definitely have it. We'll pay you back later if we have to." Ken grunted noncommittally. "I'm about to get snaked," Marsh continued, speeding up his steps. "Get going. I'll need another spicy dose." They walked onto the Marina's footpath. Few people here were shirtless, it wasn't a swimming area. They stood out more, most of all Marsh, with nothing to hide his semi-hard package. The others at least had something around their hips. "We're here," Ken said. "This fucking place was my personal hell." He gestured at the Topaz Shoal Yacht Club, the marina's biggest boat rental. "Dude," Bryce said. "I never told you this but my uncle has a yacht here. You probably ran into him." Ken punched the swimmer's shoulder. "Told you, you're loaded like a brotherfucker, asshole." "Fuck you, dude." Marsh took the last swing of Mutant when the can was torn from his hand and rolled along the path. "Fuck, it's here," Marsh said and kicked the can as he speedwalked past it. The ouroboros poked from his shorts. His package was lightly stretched off his crotch and his dick hardened without mercy. They needed to get on a boat. *** Things are about to get a lot worse for the muscle boys... and a lot gayer, too.