The next morning Chase found himself back at the steam room, wearing nothing but a pair of black briefs. To rest for football tryouts, he skipped his usual morning workout, but still wanted to start his day off with a relaxing steam to calm his mind and muscles. Chase felt groggy all morning, like his mind was shrouded by a trance-like haze. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, spreading his strong lats and revealing his sexy pits. “Shit,” Chase thought to himself, “I seriously gotta wake myself up…need me a coffee or somethin’”
The tranquility of the steam room was abruptly shattered by the sound of the door swinging open with a violent crash. Chase, his muscles relaxed and mind drifting in the soothing mist, snapped to attention, his heart pounding out of his chest. Through the dense fog, he could just make out the silhouettes of three imposing figures, their faces obscured by dark masks. They moved with a predatory grace, their muscular forms cutting through the steam with a menacing determination.
Before Chase could react, the intruders were upon him. The first man, tall and broad-shouldered, lunged forward, his fist connecting with Chase's jaw in a bone-rattling punch. The force of the blow sent Chase sprawling onto the wooden bench, his vision swimming from the impact. He tried to gather his wits, to push himself up, but the second man was already there, grabbing him by the shoulders and hauling him to his feet.
"Who the hell are you?" Chase managed to gasp, his voice hoarse with shock and pain. But the men remained silent, their expressions hidden behind their masks, their intentions clear in their ruthless actions.
The third man, his movements swift and efficient, produced a length of rope from his pocket. As the other two held Chase in a vice-like grip, he set about binding Chase's wrists with practiced ease. The rough fibers bit into the beautiful jock’s nubile skin, the knots pulled tight, rendering him helpless with his wrists bound behind him.
Chase struggled against his captors, his muscles straining with the effort, but they were relentless. A sharp punch to his ribs from the first man left him gasping for breath, the pain radiating through his chest like wildfire. He doubled over, only to be yanked upright again, his head swimming with a mixture of fear and fury.
"Why are you doing this?" Chase demanded, his voice a raw plea for answers that he knew would not come. The masked men remained silent, their eyes cold and unfeeling behind their disguises. All three of them were muscular and broad shouldered.
With his wrists securely bound, Chase was forced to his knees, the unforgiving tiles of the steam room floor biting into his skin. The third man moved behind him, wrapping the remaining rope around his chest and arms, further immobilizing him. The steam, once a source of comfort, now clung to his skin like a suffocating shroud, mingling with the bound jock’s adrenaline-infused sweat.
Chase's mind raced, his thoughts a chaotic jumble of confusion and desperation. Who were these men? What did they want from him? The questions churned in his mind, unanswered and unanswerable. All he knew was that he was at their mercy, bound and beaten in the very sanctuary that had once provided him solace.
The first man, his voice a low growl, finally spoke. "This is just the beginning, Chase. You crossed the wrong people." His words were cold, devoid of emotion, a chilling promise of what was to come.
As the men stepped back, their task complete, Chase could only watch through a haze of pain and steam. He was left alone, bound and bruised, the echoes of their footsteps fading into the distance. The steam room, once a haven of peace, now felt like a prison, its misty confines closing in around him.
Chase's mind raced, his thoughts a blur of fear and defiance. He knew he had to find a way out, to escape the bonds that held him and seek help. But for now, he could do nothing but endure.
Chase, his muscular body now bound and vulnerable, knelt on the unforgiving tiles, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The three masked men stood over him, their eyes frigid and merciless behind their disguises.
"Let's see how long it takes to break you," the first man growled, his voice dripping with malice. He reached out and grabbed Chase by the hair, forcing his head back until their eyes met. Chase's defiant gaze met his captor's cold stare. Suddenly, he snapped to a realization and recognized the familiar voice. “T-T-Tommy?” Chase couldn't understand. Tommy?! The guy he spitroasted Jamie with in the shower yesterday?! He barely knew the guy--what the fuck was Tommy Lewis doing this to him???
The second man stepped forward, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. He chuckled, “He’s a smart one, guess he’s not just a dumb jock with a hot ass after all…guess your cover’s blown, Tommy.” He produced a leather strap from his pocket, the sound of it snapping against his palm echoing ominously in the confined space. Without warning, he brought the strap down across Chase's back with a resounding crack, the pain searing through his flesh like fire.
Chase gritted his teeth, refusing to cry out, but the strap came down again and again, each blow driving him closer to the edge of his endurance. His skin burned, his muscles quivered with the strain, but he would not give them the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
"Still holding out, are we?" the first man sneered. "We'll see how long that lasts." He released Chase's hair and stepped back, nodding to the third man, who approached with a gleam of sadistic pleasure in his eyes. He pulled the ski-mask off, revealing a mop of shaggy brown hair that danced above his cruel eyes. It indeed was Tommy Lewis, the dude who caught Chase and Jamie messing around in the showers the day before.
The third man crouched down, his face level with Chase's. "You think you're strong, don't you?" he taunted. "Let's see how strong you are when you're begging for mercy."
He reached out and grabbed Chase's chin, forcing his mouth open. With a swift, brutal motion, he spat into Chase's mouth. "Swallow it," he commanded, his voice cold and unyielding.
Chase's stomach churned with disgust, but he knew he had no choice. He swallowed, the bitter taste lingering in his mouth as a symbol of his humiliation. The third man released his grip, and Chase lowered his head, the weight of his degradation pressing down on him.
The second man stepped forward again, the leather strap still clutched in his hand. "Now, let's see if we can make you scream," he said, his voice a sick parody of cheerfulness. He brought the strap down across Chase's buttocks, the force of the blow sending a shockwave of pain through his body. To make things worse, the third man came in and ripped Chase’s briefs apart, leaving his bare bubble butt exposed and vulnerable.
Chase's resolve wavered, a strangled cry escaping his lips. The men laughed, their cruel amusement ringing in his ears. The strap came down again and again, each strike leaving a red mark on the jock’s perfectly plump and muscular buttocks. His body convulsed with pain, his mind a haze of agony and shame.
"Tell us you're a worthless fag," Tommy demanded, his voice a harsh whisper in Chase's ear.
Chase hesitated, the words catching in his throat. Another blow from the strap sent a fresh wave of pain coursing through him, and he knew he had no choice. "I'm fag," he choked out, the admission tearing at his soul.
"Louder," the second man ordered, the strap poised for another strike.
"I'm worthless fag!" Chase cried, his voice echoing in the steam-filled room.
The men exchanged satisfied glances, their expressions hidden behind their masks. "Good," the first man said, his tone mocking. "Now, beg us to stop."
Chase's pride warred with his desperation, but the pain was too much to bear. "Please," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Please…stop."
The third man grabbed Chase's hair again, pulling his head back. "Say it louder," he hissed. "BEG for it."
"Please, stop!" Chase shouted, his voice raw with pain and humiliation. "I'll do anything, just please stop!"
The men laughed, the sound cruel and victorious. Tommy released his grip on Chase's hair and stepped back, nodding in approval. "That's more like it," he said. "Now, you belong to us. You will obey our every command, won't you?"
Chase's spirit felt shattered, his will broken. "Yes," he whispered, his voice hollow. "I will obey."
"Good," the first man said, his tone dripping with satisfaction. "Because if you don't, we'll make sure you regret it."
The men stepped back, leaving Chase kneeling on the floor, his body trembling with pain and shame. He had been broken, humiliated, and made to degrade himself, and there was no escape from the power they held over him.
"Good boy," the Tommy taunted, his voice a mockery of praise. He ran his eyes up and down the captured stud. Chase looked so sexy tied up and naked. A sinister grin crossed Tommy’s face—he noticed that Chase’s cock was rock hard. He rubbed the helpless rugby star’s boner with his boots. "Looks like fag boy’s enjoying this, just like I told you guys he would. Now, time to lick my boots, bitch."
Chase’s heart pounded in his chest, the command a new level of degradation. Still roped, up, the star wrestler of Washington High hobbled over to the Tommy, his head bowed in shame. The boots worn and dirty, the leather scuffed and stained. Chase hesitated for a moment, his stomach churning with revulsion and something darker, a twisted anticipation.
With a deep breath, he lowered his head and began to lick the boots, his tongue scraping against the rough leather. The taste was foul, a mix of dirt and sweat, but the men laughed, their amusement echoing in the steam-filled room.
"FUCK! I can’t believe he's enjoying this," the second man said, his voice filled with cruel delight. "Look at him, licking those boots like a good little dog."
Chase’s handsome, cherubic face burned with shame, but there was no denying the flicker of unwanted pleasure that coursed through him. He hated himself for it, for the way his body responded to their commands, but he couldn't stop. The conflicting emotions tore at him, each lick a bitter reminder of his humiliation and the disturbing thrill it brought.
"Tell us you love it," the third man demanded, his voice a cruel whisper.
Chase’s mind screamed in protest, but the words spilled from his lips before he could stop them. "I love it," he said, his voice a broken whisper.
The men exchanged satisfied glances, their triumph complete. "Good boy," the second man said, his voice a twisted parody of kindness. "Now, sit up and beg. Beg like a dog."
Chase obeyed, his body moving on autopilot as he sat back on his heels, his bound hands still restrained behind him helplessly as the once-proud jock whimpered in a grotesque mimicry of a begging dog. The men laughed again, their cruelty knowing no bounds.
"See?" the Tommy said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "He's ours now. Completely broken."
Chase mind reeled, the conflicting emotions tearing him apart. He hated them, hated what they had done to him, but beneath the hatred, there was a flicker of something darker, something he could barely admit to himself. Chase felt deeply aroused.
The men set upon the helpless 18-year-old stud. They groped and licked every inch of his nubile body. They squeezed and pinched his battered buttocks, traced their warm tongues hungrily around his erect nipples, and rubbed their greedy hands the groves between each of his sculpted muscles. While the men had their way with him, all Chase could do was kneel there helplessly, his wrists still tied securely behind his back as he writhed in vain.
Chase yelped. He felt a finger slip inside his rosebud. Tommy was crouched behind his victim, holding him in a chokehold, while fingering him with his freehand. Chase felt so violated, yet his 6-inch cock pulsed and jump with arousal. The men noticed this and laughed. “What a fucking slut! Look at how hard his cock is while he’s getting fingered like a bitch. You want us to gangbang you don’t you? Huh, yeah you like getting used and abused by bigger stronger men, isn’t that right?”
Chase had no chance to respond, as one of the men had grabbed him roughly by the face and turned his head to the side—the man’s mouth now lustfully covered Chase’s soft lips and he tongue-fucked the bound 18-year-old. The man that was verbally taunting Chase couldn’t resist--he bent down and wrapped his own lips around Chase’s erect cock and began sucking and swallowing the copious amounts of precum that flowed freely out.
Chase’s eyes rolled back with pleasure as his mind went blank from sheer sensory overload. He had one man stroking his prostate expertly, while another sucked his rock hard cock, while yet another man tongue fucked his mouth. His captors were all so strong and muscular. Chase felt so submissive and turned-on being used by three alpha males at once. He began forgetting that he was a stud himself, that he was supposed to be a big man around campus—the man that all the girls lusted after and all the guys looked up to. At that moment, for all he knew, he was no longer Chase Huxley—he was just a common slut to be used freely by real men.
Tommy withdrew his finger and quickly replaced it with his 7.5” cock. He bottomed out in one thrust, rubbing his wild, curly pubes against Chase’s beautiful-yet-battered ass cheeks. It was odd. Such a large, unlubed cock shouldn't have slipped in so easily. It should’ve hurt like a bitch and made Chase scream out. Instead, all Chase felt was pure pleasure and ecstasy. He moaned in satisfaction as the man forcibly making out with him pulled back and walked over to grab his phone.
Tommy thrust in and out as fast as he could, but it was an awkward position with him crouched behind and holding Chase in a chokehold with another man sucked Chase’s cock from the front. The dude sucking Chase’s cock was now naked, stroking his thick cock while suctioning the 18-year-old cock with his lips and throat. Weird—how had Chase not even noticed the man taking his clothes off?
Chase was too fuck drunk to pay attention to the various oddities of his present situation. He was fully enraptured in lust. “Fuckkk…man that feels so good. Please don’t stop. Keep on using me. Use your little doggy bitch…yeah fuck me harder…please ugh yeahh…yes daddyyy!!!” The man who went to grab his phone laughed histerically at hearing Chase debase himself like a horny slut. Chase looked over and noticed that man was now filming. Strangely, the steam in the room had dissipated and the camera had a clear shot of Chase getting sucked off and fucked at the same time.
The man filming had taken his mask off. As Chase’s vision came into focus he recognized the man instantly. No fucking way. It was Brad, Chase’s studly stepbrother, whom he adored and practically worshiped. Brad was supposed to have left for UT football training weeks ago—what the fuck was he doing here!? Nothing was making sense.
Chase averted his eyes to look down instead. The dude sucking his cock was now somehow unmasked as well. Chase’s heart almost stopped when he realized whose lips were wrapped around his cock. It the unmistakable, ruggedly handsome face of his stepdad, Ryan!!! No fucking way! This could not be real. But Chase couldn’t think straight, as pure pleasure and fuck-lust melted his mind. Tommy was now using both hands to flick and rub Chase’s ultra-sensitive, erect nipples.
Brad spoke, “Say hi to the camera, lil’ bro. You’re gonna be a porn star soon. That turn you on?”
“What that fuck, Brad, s-stop fucking filming me…ugh…ahhh..fuck…ugh….lemme go!”
“I call cap on that load of BS. Bro you’re gonna love it when this vid goes all over Pornhub and xvideos. Doesn’t that turn you on? Knowing that millions of pervy fags are gonna jack off to this?”
Chase struggled against his binds, writhing to no avail as Tommy’s cock continued to piston in and out of the rugby stud’s wrecked boypussy. He tried to pull his cock away from his stepdad’s mouth, but it was suctioned too tightly by the 37-year-old DILF’s hungry lips. Why? Why were they doing this?? Things really weren’t adding up.
Brad continued, “Alright, buddy, I’m gonna switch to live streaming mode. The whole world’s gonna see this in three…two…one…”
“NOOOOO!!!!!!” Chase yelled out, loud enough wake himself up.
*-*-*
Chase snapped up into a sitting position before falling back down on his bed again, out of breath and panting as he felt his heart beat out of his chest. His hair was damp with cold sweat, induced by the nightmare. It was sunrise now, probably around 5:30 in the morning. Thank goodness it was just another fucked-up dream. Chase had been experiencing those a lot lately.
But quickly, Chase realized something was still off. His cock was hard….and…something warm and soft was suctioning it!!! Startled again, Chase pulled the sheets off, revealing the shape of a guy’s head. “Holy shit!!” Chase exclaimed.
Suddenly, the guy pulled off Chase’s cock and looked up, smiling mischievously. Thankfully, Chase recognized the face instantly. It was Joaquin, a 19-year-old Ashton Summers lookalike who lived next door, and whom Chase’s stepdad hired as a pool boy for the summer. Joaquin lusted after the entire Huxley-Bennet household (Chase, his brother older brother Brad Bennett, and his stepdad, Ryan Bennett). He had easily seduced Brad and Ryan earlier in the summer, and unbeknownst to them, Joaquin also seduced Chase in late August, right after Brad left for college. Joaquin had spent the past week sneaking into Chase’s bedroom and letting the rugby/wrestling jock rail him in every conceivable position. Now, he was stark naked, staring amusedly at Chase after having sucked his cock in his sleep.
By nature, Joaquin was extremely naughty and mischievous, and took great pleasure in the fact that he’d managed to seduce every man in the household without them knowing the full extent of his sexploits. Chase was unaware that Brad and Ryan had previously fucked Joaquin; and likewise, Brad and Ryan had no idea that their perfect little step son/bro was now having sex with Joaquin on a near-daily basis.
Joaquin was staying with Chase’s neighbor, Vanders for the summer only and would be flying back to New York soon. With limited time in Texas remaining, the 19-year-old OnlyFans star wanted to fulfill a longtime fantasy by sneaking into Chase’s room through the unlocked window and sucking the stud off while he was still asleep.
Joaquin, smiled saucily at Chase, unphased by the rugby jock’s look of bewilderment and annoyance. Chase exclaimed, “What the fuck bro! You can't just sneak in here while I’m sleeping like that.” Joaquin ignored Chase, and instead began licking and kissing Chase’s cock, causing him to moan in pleasure again, just like he’d been doing in his sleep.
Chase’s anger quickly subsided as he was mostly relieved that (1) the fucked-up steamroom scene was just another dream and (2) it was now Joaquin sucking his dick and not some stranger breaking in. He squirmed as he felt an electric pulse of pleasure emanate from his prostate. Joaquin’s finger had been lodged up Chase’s tight fuck-chute this entire time, and he began to finger fuck the 18-year-old adonis again. “Fuck, Joaquin…shit that feel so damn good…bro, I’m so pissed at you right now but…ah fuck! Hot dayum you’re a talented muthafucker...”
Joaquin, being an experienced porn star and having become quite familiar with Chase over the past week, could detect that Chase was close to cumming. He pulled his mouth off the throbbing cock, denying the stud his much-needed sexual release. With his finger still lodged in the squeezing asshole, Joaquin expertly maneuvered himself until he was sitting on top of Chase’s pelvis. Chase’s rock-hard cock was pointing straight up, and it easily slipped into Joaquin’s experienced hole. Joaquin’s own cock began dripping precum over Chase’s sixpack abs as he began riding the overwhelmed stud. Chase looked so sexy laying there, writhing in pleasure, his muscles flexing involuntarily.
Chase quickly forgot about his nightmare—he was enjoying the heck out of this. “Fuck dude, you’re friggin incredible…ugh…yeah ride me like a good little bitch boi…mmhh, you feel so good, Imma cum soon.” Still wanting to prolong the fuck-sesh a bit more, Joaquin withdrew his finger from Chsae’s hole, soliciting a disappointed sigh. He grabbed the pair of sweaty trucks he’d stripped off earlier and stuffed them into Chase’s mouth, knowing it’d turn the boy on.
Joaquin then stroked his own cock a few times and shot a few loads of hot cum all over Chase’s chisled torso and angular face. A few droplets soaked the pillowcase a bit. Joaquin tightened his asshole as he came, squeezing an orgasm out of Chase too. Joaquin grabbed Chase’s wrists and pinned them over his head as they came together. It was an ironic position, as there was no way Joaquin was actually strong enough to pin down the all-state wrestler, but Chase was so fuck drunk right now, he could barely control his powerful muscles. Chase shot his load deep into Joaquin’s ass, moaning loudly into the jockstrap stuffed in his mouth.
As the two teens’ orgasms subsided, Joaquin rolled over, laying next to Chase while catching his breath. Chase spat out the jockstrap and found a t-shirt lying around to use as a cumrag to clean off. He wanted to be pissed at Joaquin, but the sex was just too friggen good. Plus, Joaquin looked so cute and innocent laying there and batting his cute puppy-dog eyes. Instead, to get back at the mischivious twink, Chase tossed his dirty cumrag onto Joaquin’s face and then gave the Latin twink a playful nougie.
Chase spoke with feigned annoyance, “I oughta woop your punk ass for sneaking in hear in the middle of the night. Gonna need to keep my fucking windows locked from now on.”
Joaquin threw the cum-soaked shirt onto the floor and squirmed his way out of the nougie. He playfully retorted, “Oh yes please, Daddy. You know I love it when you whoop my kinky ass. I’d let you punish me all day long!” He winked and then ran to quickly pull his clothes on. Chase couldn’t help but to smile at the cute, sassy twink. Joaquin didn’t linger long, as soon as he got dressed, he blew Chase a kiss and climbed over the still-open window. He skillfully lowered himself off the ledge until his feet were a few feet off the ground, let go, and dropped onto the soft backyard lawn. He yelled, up towards the window to Chase, “See you later, stud! Thanks for the load!”
*-*-*
About half an hour later, Chase and his stepdad, Ryan Bennett, stood in the cool early morning light, the sky beginning to blush with dawn. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew and freshly cut grass. Both men were shirtless, their muscular physiques outlined against the rising sun, every sinew and tendon defined in the gentle light. They move in tandem, lifting heavy equipment onto the truck with practiced ease. Chase’s 5’11 frame was toned and lithe, while Ryan stood at 6’4” with a bulkier, even more muscular build.
As Chase gripped the edge of a bulky speaker system, his biceps bulged, veins popping against his tanned skin. "Man, this thing weighs a ton," he says, his voice carrying a casual, laid-back drawl typical of teenage boys. "It's like, straight-up hauling bricks."
Ryan chuckles, the sound deep and hearty. His southern accent rolls smoothly as he responds, "Ain't nothin' you can't handle, son. Just gotta put yer back into it." He bends down, his broad shoulders and powerful arms flexing as he lifts the other side of the speaker. His muscles ripple under the strain, showcasing a lifetime of hard work and dedication.
They hoist the speaker together, muscles straining and taut. Chase's abs tighten, showcasing a defined six-pack as he balances the weight. "Guess all those deadlifts are paying off," he grins, adjusting his grip.
Ryan nodded approvingly, his own physique a testament to years of physical labor. "Yup, reckon they are. And hey, remember, for them football tryouts this afternoon, you gotta show 'em what you're made of. Be quick, be strong, and don’t let nobody outwork ya."
Chase smirked, the confidence of youth in his eyes. "No worries, Dad. Imma gonna crush it today. Been grinding all summer for this." For most guys, it’d be a challenge to switch from rugby to football during their senior year, but Chase possessed immense athletic talent and felt confident he had varsity in the bag. Plus, he’d spent much of the summer training with his older stepbrother, Brad, who was the most decorated quarterback in the history of their high school.
Ryan paused to wipe the sweat from his brow with a bandana, his chest heaving slightly. "That's the spirit. Just remember, hard work beats talent when talent don't work hard. And you, son, you got both."
They continue to load the truck, each movement a symphony of strength and coordination. As they lift a heavy crate filled with sports equipment, Chase's triceps flare, and Ryan's forearms bulge with effort. The bond between them is palpable, a mix of familial respect and camaraderie forged through shared toil and mutual goals. Chase and Ryan had run into an awkward patch in their relationship a few weeks ago, after they got a “bit” too intimate together during a lust-filled camping trip in Colorado. The week after a trip, Ryan acted aloof and seemed to be avoiding Chase. But after a couple of weeks, things returned to normal between the stepdad and stepson, and neither mentioned a word of what happened up in Colorado.
Finally, with the last piece of equipment securely in place, they step back, admiring their work. Chase smiled. "Hey. Thanks for the pep talk, Dad. Means a lot."
Ryan claped a hand on Chase's shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "Ain't no problem, Chase. You're gon’ do great. Just keep that fire burnin' and remember where ya come from."
Chase nods, determination shining in his eyes. "Yes Sir."
The truck rumbled down the winding country road, the early morning light casting long shadows across the fields. Inside, the atmosphere was a blend of comfort and anticipation. Ryan Bennett steered the vehicle with one hand, his other resting casually on the open window, letting the cool breeze flow in. His ruggedly handsome face, was set in a thoughtful expression. Beside him sat Chase Huxley, his athletic frame filling the passenger seat. After a summer cut, his physique was more defined than ever, each muscle sharply outlined under his tanned skin.
Chase took a break from texting his buddies and glanced at his stepdad briefly. At 37 years old, Ryan Bennet's face was a masterpiece of rugged masculinity. His strong jawline was complemented by a neatly trimmed beard that framed his expressive lips. High cheekbones accentuated his piercing blue eyes, which were set beneath thick, dark brows. His nose was straight and proud, adding to the symmetry of his features. His dark hair, slightly tousled from the breeze, completed his striking and commanding presence.
"So, how ya feelin' 'bout them college offers?" Ryan asked, breaking the comfortable silence. His deep, masculine voice resonated through the cab, carrying a hint of the southern drawl that always put Chase at ease.
Chase shifted slightly, his expression thoughtful. Wrestling coaches from all the top NCAA D1 programs had been courting Chase over the past year, and everyone was expecting Chase to sign with Duke or UVA soon. "Honestly, Pops, I'm kinda having second thoughts about wrestling in college," he said, pausing to glance over at his stepdad. "I know I've worked my ass off to become the top-ranked wrestler in Texas, but... I dunno if I want my whole life to be about training and competing."
Ryan raised an eyebrow, keeping his eyes on the road. "That's a big change, son. What’s on your mind?" he asked. Chase took a deep breath, inhaling a bit of his stepdad’s musk: the comforting scent of fresh pine and a hint of sweat, a product of their early morning labor.
Chase sighed, running a hand through his short brown hair, the scent of his own subtle cologne mingling with the fresh morning air. "Honestly, I wanna go to UT, like Brad, and you and Mom. I know don’t have an NCAA wrestling program, but I feel like there's more to life than just wrestling. I want to experience college, ya know? Make new friends who aren’t all jocks, study somethin’ I actually about, maybe join like a frat or somethin’."
Ryan nodded slowly, his rugged features softening as he spoke. "I get that, Chase. Ain't nothin' wrong with wantin' more outta life than just one goal. Sometimes, folks get so caught up in single darn path, they forget there’s a whole world out there to explore."
Chase looked relieved, his shoulders relaxing a bit, the definition in his traps and delts standing out as he exhaled. "I thought you'd be disappointed."
Ryan chuckled, shaking his head. "Son, life ain't about livin' up to other folks' expectations. It's ‘bout findin' your own way. You've proven you're one hell of a wrestler. But if your heart's pullin' you towards somethin' else, you gotta listen to that. UT's a great school. You'll do fine no matter what."
Chase smiled, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "Thanks, Dad. Means a lot to hear you say that."
Ryan glanced over, his eyes filled with pride. "Always here for ya, Chase. Remember, it's your life. Make choices that make you happy. Wrestlin' or no wrestlin', I'm proud o’ ya."
Once they reached the clubhouse, Chase and Ryan quickly unloaded the equipment. Afterwards, Ryan dropped Chase at his buddy Billy Bullock’s house. Billy, known to all his friends as "Bull," was the starting quarterback of Washington High last year, and this year, as a senior, he was practically a lock to reprise his role. He and Chase had been great friends growing up and only drifted apart slightly once Chase focused on rugby and wrestling while Bull focused on football. Bull had heard Chase was gonna try out for running back, and he invited Chase to toss a football around the morning of tryouts to get warmed up. The first day of tryouts were scheduled to start at 6:30 pm in the evening and run for three hours, so Bull wanted to get some light exercise in that morning.
As Ryan waved goodbye to Chase and drove off, Bull emerged from the front door, his presence commanding immediate attention. Standing at 6'2", he was taller than Chase, his broad shoulders and muscular frame filling the doorway. Bull's light blonde hair was trimmed short, emphasizing his sharp, arrogant gaze. His eyes, a striking shade of blue, seemed to pierce through anyone they looked at, exuding a confidence that bordered on cockiness.
Bull was unusually muscular for an 18-year-old quarterback, his physique more akin to that of a seasoned linebacker. His biceps bulged against the sleeves of his tight-fitting, white athletic shirt, and his chest and abs were clearly defined even through the fabric. He wore black athletic shorts that showcased his powerful legs, every muscle taut and ready for action.
Around his neck, Bull sported a thick gold chain that glinted in the morning sun, adding a touch of flash to his otherwise practical attire. A sleek, expensive-looking watch adorned his left wrist, completing his look of effortless superiority. As he walked toward Chase, the sheer bulk and strength he carried with him were undeniable, making it clear why he was the star quarterback of Washington High.
"Hey, bro!" Bull called out, his voice loud and confident. "Ready to toss this fuckin pigskin?"
Chase and Bull stood in Bull's expansive backyard, languidly tossing a football back and forth as the sun continued to rise. The cool breeze rustling the leaves added a sense of calm before the storm of the upcoming school year.
"Yo, I can't believe senior year’s bout to start," Bull said, catching the ball with ease. "Time flies, man."
"For real, bro," Chase replied, sending the ball spiraling back. "Feels like just yesterday we were freshmen. Now we friggin run this place."
"Facts. You ready for tryouts tomorrow?" Bull asked, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Bet," Chase said with a grin. "I mean, rugby’s been my thing for years now, but I’m hyped to give football a shot. And being on a team with you, Jake, Mason and the other guys again sounds lit."
"Dude, you got what it takes to be a bomb-ass running back. You’re gonna crush it," Bull assured him. "Plus, it'll be sick to have you on the team."
"Appreciate it, Bull. Just gotta get used to the playbook and try not to get wrecked by you in practice," Chase joked.
Bull laughed. "No cap, I'll go easy on you. But seriously, your speed and power are gonna be fire out there. Speaking of, you see Cathy at the pool party last night?"
"Bruh, she was looking fine," Bull continued, his eyes lighting up. "Highkey got my eye on her."
"Better make a move before someone else does," Chase warned. "Heard she’s been talking to Jake, though."
"Jake’s sus, man," Bull said with a smirk. "Always trying to flex, but he's all cap. Thinks he can ball, but he’s got nothing on us. Plus, I heard some wild gossip about him from Becca. Dude's apparently been ghosting some girl he knocked up or somethin’ wild like that."
"Typical Jake," Chase said, shaking his head. "Always thirsty for attention and fuckin’ around. Anyway, what classes you taking this year?" Chase was never one to enjoy gossip or talking shit about others, and now he was eager to change the conversation.
"Got a pretty chill schedule," Bull replied. "Some electives, and I’m lowkey excited about art class.” Chase’s efforts to redirect the conversation were in vain. Bull quickly pivoted back to talking about hot girls, "Oh, and did you see the new girl, Ashley? She’s a total smoke show."
"Yeah, dude," Chase said, nodding. "She was in my history class last year. I can see you vibing with Ashley, actually…she was pretty close with Sara…" Chase’s voice trailed off.
An uncomfortable moment of silence took over as the boys continued to toss the ball around. Chase had dated Sara Dunne for two years and their relationship was one of those high school romances everyone thought would last forever. Sara had always been the picture of perfection, the quintessential goody-two-shoes Christian girl who never missed a Sunday service and always wore a cross around her neck. They were inseparable, the perfect couple, until everything fell apart.
Sara had cheated on him with his stepbrother, Brad. The betrayal cut deep, not just because it was Sara, but because it was Brad, someone Chase had grown up with and trusted. The revelation came like a punch to the gut, leaving Chase reeling, but, surprisingly not too heartbroken. That summer Chase realized that he was mostly gay, and by the time he learned of Sara’s betrayal, Chase’s attention had already shifted to, of all people, Brad. Chase and Sara both ended their relationship rather amicably, considering the circumstances, and both parties moved on quite quickly.
In the aftermath, Sara underwent a dramatic transformation. The sweet, pious girl who had once been a model of virtue seemed to disappear overnight. She started seeing a string of guys, one after another, her reputation changing almost as rapidly as her boyfriends. It was like she was trying to rebel against the person she used to be, embracing a wild side no one had ever seen before.
Chase tried to avoid talking about his ex girlfriend, a mix of anger and sadness churning inside him, whenever someone mentioned her latest flirtatious exploits. Hearing about Sara hooking up with different guys, each one seeming more like a fleeting fling than the next, was a constant reminder of their past and the betrayal that ended it. It hurt, but it also made him realize that maybe he didn't really know Sara as well as he thought he did. As he prepared for his senior year and the new challenges ahead, including trying out for the football team, Chase knew he had to move on and leave the past behind.
What Chase didn’t know yet, was that Bull and Sara started seeing each other recently.
Bull had always harbored a simmering jealousy toward Chase. Growing up, Chase seemed to have it all: the natural athleticism that made him a star in rugby and wrestling, and a quiet charisma that earned him the genuine affection of their peers. Despite Chase's more reserved nature, he was effort well-liked and respected, something Bull couldn't help but envy despite always being popular himself. Bull, on the other hand, had to work hard to earn his status as an alpha male, keeping up with the latest trends, dating the right girls, even bullying nerds every once in a while to flex his dominance and (toxic) masculinity.
When Chase's relationship with Sara Dunne fell apart, Bull saw an unexpected opportunity to feel superior in the one-sided rivalry. Bull, who was never particularly interested in Sara, found himself drawn to her not out of genuine affection, but because of a deeper, more competitive urge. Pursuing Sara became a way for Bull to one-up Chase, to claim something that had once belonged to his friend and rival. He wasn't blind to Sara's current state, but the idea of being with her, the girl who had been with Chase for so long, was intoxicating in its own twisted way. It wasn't about love or even lust; it was about winning.
Bull started making his moves subtly at first, casually running into Sara at the community pool she was known to frequent, offering a sympathetic ear whenever she needed someone to talk to. He played the part of the caring friend, all the while stoking the flames of his competitive spirit. He'd compliment her, laugh at her jokes, and gradually, she started to see him as someone she could lean on.
For Bull, this was a game. He didn't care that Sara was seeing other guys or that she was no longer the girl Chase had dated. What mattered was that each step closer to Sara was a step ahead of Chase, a silent victory in their unspoken rivalry. Bull's friends noticed and would tease him about it, but he just shrugged it off with a grin, keeping his true motives to himself.
In his heart, Bull knew this wasn't about Sara. It was about proving to himself—and to Chase—that he could have what Chase once had, that he could outshine him in yet another arena. As tryouts for the football team approached and the new school year loomed, Bull felt a rush of anticipation and anxiety. It was very possible, even likely, that Chase would outshine him as the star of the team. This year, he was determined to be the one who stood out, the one who came out on top, no matter what—or who—it took to get there.
The two friends continued tossed the football back and forth for a while in silence. Both of them, muscular and bronzed, glistened with sweat. Bull's biceps flexed with each throw, while Chase’s lean, athletic frame moved with effortless grace as he caught each spiral perfectly.
Bull took a deep breath, knowing the conversation he needed to have with Chase wouldn’t be easy. He caught the football, feeling its familiar weight in his hands, and looked at Chase, who was ready for the next pass.
"Hey, Chase," Bull began, his voice steady but his heart pounding, "there’s something I gotta tell you."
Chase, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, gave Bull a curious look. "What’s up, man?"
Bull hesitated for a moment, then threw the ball, watching it spiral through the air. "I've been seeing Sara."
Chase caught the ball smoothly, his face remaining calm. He paused, then nodded. "Okay."
Bull was taken aback by the lack of anger or shock. He had expected Chase to be upset. He was even a bit disappointed that the news didn’t seem to hurt Chase. "I didn’t want to go behind your back or anything. It just kinda happened."
Chase tossed the ball back, his throw perfect. "I appreciate you telling me, Bull. Seriously."
Bull caught the ball, a mixture relief and some dissapointment washing over him. "You're not mad?"
Chase shook his head. "Nah, man. I mean, it’s weird, but I just want her to be happy. And you too. Just… take care of her, okay? She's been through a lot lately."
Bull nodded, feeling a pang of guilt but also a strange sense of admiration in Chase’s maturity. "I will, Chase. I promise."
They continued to toss the ball, the silence between them now comfortable. The golden light of the morning sun highlighted their chiseled features and the sheen of sweat on their skin, making them look almost statuesque.
"You're a good guy, Chase," Bull said finally, breaking the silence. "I know I don’t say it enough, but I respect the hell out of you."
Chase smiled, catching the football once more. "Thanks, Bull. And for what it’s worth, I think you and Sara could be good together. Just be there for her."
Bull nodded again, feigning a movement that suggested he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. "I will, man. I will." Bull did a good job of hiding any sense of disappointment he felt at Chase's poise. He was hoping that Chase would at least act a little bit hurt or jealous.
"Alright, man," Bull said, catching the football one last time. "Let's hit the hot tub and stretch out."
Chase nodded, his shirt clinging to his torso, accentuating the contours of his muscles. The two walked side by side towards Bull's house, their friendship ostensibly seeming more solid than ever after their earlier conversation.
Entering the house, they made their way to the indoor pool room. The air inside was warm and slightly humid, a stark contrast to the cool breeze outside. Bull tossed the football onto a nearby chair and stretched his arms above his head, his muscles rippling under his skin.
As Chase turned to close the door behind them, Bull couldn't resist giving him a playful slap on the butt. "Nice job out there, bro," he said, grinning.
Chase’s muscular bubble butt looked perfect through his sweat-soaked shorts. The fabric clung to his glutes, highlighting their round, firm shape. His shorts had become almost transparent with the sweat, revealing the definition and strength in his lower body.
Bull chuckled, unable to help himself. "Damn, Chase, you’ve got one fine bubble butt. All those squats paying off, huh?"
Chase blushed, a deep red coloring his cheeks as he looked back at Bull. "Shut up, man," he said with a shy smile, feeling both embarrassed and a little proud.
"Just calling it like I see it," Bull said, still grinning. "You've been putting in the work, and it shows."
Chase shook his head, laughing softly. "Thanks, I guess."
They both peeled off their sweaty shirts and tossed them aside, the cool air feeling refreshing against their overheated skin. They climbed into the hot tub, the warm water soothing their tired muscles. As they settled in, Bull stretched out, his arms resting on the edge of the tub.
"Senior year, man," Bull said, looking at Chase. "This is gonna be our year. I can feel it."
Chase nodded, the blush fading as he relaxed into the water. "Yeah, it's gonna be great. Thanks for always having my back, Bull."
"Always, bro," Bull replied, giving Chase a nod. "Always."
As the two 18-year-old jocks relaxed in the warm, bubbling water, the door to the pool room swung open, and Bull's mom, Susan, stepped inside. She was stunning for her age, with a graceful beauty that seemed timeless. Access to unlimited botox and other beauty treatments, courtesy of marrying one of the richest men in Texas, helped out in this regard. She carried a tray of snacks, her smile warm and genuine.
"Hey boys," Susan called out, her voice carrying a hint of Southern charm. "Thought you might be hungry after all that practice in the sun."
"Thanks, Mom," Bull said, lifting a hand in acknowledgment. "You're the best."
Susan set the tray down on a nearby table, her eyes drifting over to Chase. He was 5'11" with stunning blue eyes that sparkled under the soft lighting of the room. His short brown hair was tousled, and his face, chiseled but still boyish, looked almost too handsome to be real. The way the water glistened on his tanned, muscular body made him look like he belonged on the cover of a fitness magazine.
Chase smiled up at her, his eyes meeting hers. "Thanks, Mrs. Bullock," he said politely. "These look great."
Susan felt her breath catch for a moment. She couldn't help but furtively admire his good looks, her gaze lingering a bit too long on his blue eyes and strong jawline. The moment stretched on, and Chase seemed to catch her staring. His expression turned slightly puzzled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
Realizing she'd been caught ogling, Susan quickly looked away, a hint of embarrassment flashing across her face. "Well, I'll let you boys enjoy your snacks," she said, her voice a bit hurried. "If you need anything else, just holler."
"Thanks, Mom," Bull repeated, not noticing the awkward exchange.
"Thank you, Mrs. Bullock," Chase echoed, still slightly bemused.
Susan nodded, offering a quick smile before making her exit. She closed the door behind her, her heart racing a little. She shook her head at herself, silently chastising her momentary lapse.
As Bull and Chase relaxed in the hot tub, the warmth of the water soothing their muscles, Chase started talking about his volunteer work at the senior center. His voice was animated as he described the joy he found in helping the elderly, the stories they shared, and the friendships he had formed. But Bull’s mind began to drift as he pretended to listen, nodding and offering the occasional “Yeah” or “That’s cool” at the appropriate moments.
In reality, Bull’s thoughts were far from Chase’s wholesome activities. He had secret plans, darker ambitions that had been brewing ever since Chase decided to try out for the football team. Bull was determined to dominate and humiliate Chase after tryouts, during the hazing tradition. He couldn't wait to prove once and for all who was superior.
As Chase droned on about Mrs. Thompson’s recovery from hip surgery, Bull’s internal dialogue took over.
*"This is my chance,"* Bull thought, staring at Chase without really seeing him. *"Chase's always been the fucking golden boy that everyone has a weird hardon over. But on the football field, that’s my turf. He thinks he can just walk in and take a spot on varsity? Sure, he’ll make the team, no doubt about that. But during hazing week, I'm gonna make sure everyone sees that he’s out of his league."*
*"This isn’t just about football,"* Bull mused, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. *"It’s about taking back what’s mine. Chase might look like an alpha stud, but deep down he’s just another beta bitch. I can sense it. Soon, I’ll make sure everyone knows that."*
Bull’s thoughts fixated on the post-tryout hazing that awaited all the newbie members of the varsity football squad.
*"Week after tryouts gonna be fire,"* Bull thought, a sly grin forming on his face. *"I’m gonna make Chase’s life a living nightmare. Show the whole team that I’m the top dog, and Chase gets to eat dirt."*
*"It’s gonna be legendary,"* Bull imagined, picturing the scene. *"I’ll get everyone hyped up for the initiation then throw Chase into the deep end—make him wish he never tried out for the team."*
*"And it’s gonna be so satisfying,"* Bull thought, feeling a thrill at the idea. *"Seeing him squirm and realizing he’s out of his depth. This is gonna be next level. Fucking show Golden Boy what’s up. Yeah, tomorrow’s gonna be epic. I’m ready to make some moves…show everyone who’s really boss..."*
"…and then Mr. Jenkins showed me his collection of vintage stamps," Chase continued, oblivious to Bull’s drifting attention. "It’s amazing how much history is in those little pieces of paper."
Bull forced a smile, feigning interest. "Yeah, man, that sounds fascinating."
Chase, still animated, went on and on about his volunteer work, while Bull soaked in the hot tub, the warm water doing little to quell the cold determination in his heart. As he nodded along, his mind was already on the moment he’d finally step out of Chase’s shadow.
*"In a couple of weeks,"* Bull told himself, "I’ll be the one everyone talks about. And Chase will know his place…at my feet. Golden Boy better be ready for his senior Fall. Cause the little bitchboi's sure gonna FALL hard, and drop lower than he's ever been before."
For story updates, reader polls, and AI renderings of characters, feel free to check out my Twitter.
Folks overwhelmingly voted that they wanted me to prioritize "Chase's Senior Fall" and "A Hockey Jock", so that's what I've been doing. Probably gonna release one more chapter of Chase's Senior Fall and then will release the next chapter of "A Hockey Jock". Work's been crazy lately, so I've been taking longer than I wanted to turn these chapters out.
I also saw that a ton of people want to read a frat gangbang...I'm now thinking that there might be multiple frat orgies coming up, spread out over time ;).
Also, thanks so much to all of you who've been leaving comments and shooting me emails and twitter messages. So many awesome ideas and suggestions.
