02-24-2020, 08:17 AM
Chapter 3 “The locker room”
Scott understood that wink old man Jensen had given him. He had seen his father do the same thing. It was a sign from a secret society that his father operated from the underground chambers beneath the church.
Despite the instruction to go home to his father, Scott made a detour back to the college. He badly needed a shower, plus he wanted to check up on Marcus, who the three of them had left behind as they chased Ryan into the woods.
Scott entered the locker room where the young runner had caught him and his buddies earlier. His clothes were still slung over the bench by his locker. Everything was just as they had left it.
His heart was still pounding in his chest. What a rush it was to ram his blade into that freshman's body and watch him writhe in pain. The adrenaline continued coursing its way through his veins.
Scott placed his knife under his pile of sweaty workout clothes and the towel that he had been using just before they had given chase Ryan into the woods. He slipped out of his shorts and kicked them under the bench. His body was caked in dirt and sweat, with blood splatter on his hands, arms and torso. His excitement from the earlier events was clearly recognizable. He had to hurry and wash the blood off his body before anyone noticed.
“That for me?” Scott immediately recognized the voice of Marcus, the team's towel boy. He had been with Scott and the other two before Ryan caught them. He was Scott's little boy toy. Marcus' deep brown eyes stared up at Scott like a puppy begging for a morsel. He was looking down at Scott's hard manhood.
The quarterback merely grinned back at the towel boy. While, yes, he wanted (needed even) to burn off some hot steam, he knew that it wouldn't be too long before the next workout group ended and the locker room would get a little more traffic. “Not now, maybe later. I'm gonna need another towel when you have the time.”
Marcus looked down like a lost little boy. Scott turned and headed into the showers. He purposefully flexed his glutes as he walked away, knowing Marcus was watching his sweet muscular ass. The quarterback's mind was racing with the events of the day. He had never felt such an adrenaline rush in his whole life. It made him feel so......alive.
Scott stepped into the running shower, placing his face directly into the warm stream. Tilting back his head, he let the steamy water flow down his chest and abs, trickling away the dirt and blood. He lathered up the soap all over his tight, muscular body. His hands glided easily across his smooth sudsy skin. He turned and leaned backwards into the shower steam. It was soothing, relaxing.
He closed his eyes, thinking about the expression on that freshman's face when he had their blades rammed into his flesh. It reminded him of the look on Marcus' face when he was about to orgasm. He had always loved that look, but the look on Ryan's face as he spilled his seed from his gut-fucking with a knife was exhilarating. Oh, how he yearned to do it again.
“Hey, Scott, you still here?” Scott was startled from his reminiscent daydream by the voice of one of the team assistant coaches. “I thought everyone had left already.” Randall had played for the college team just two years before. He had tried to go pro, but injured his knee. He returned this year as an assistant coach while he worked towards getting his master's degree.
Randall pulled off his workout shirt, revealing a finely chiseled body. He was in his mid-twenties with long dark hair and brown eyes. His body was definitely that of a man. His whistle hung down in the crevice between his solid pecs. He had some chest hair that he regularly manscaped and a well-defined happy trail from his innie navel down.
Scott watched him out of the corner of eye. Partially because he was such a fine specimen of a man and partly because he was worried Randall would catch a glimpse of the blood on his shorts, or the knife he had hidden under his pile of clothes on the bench.
Randall stripped down and stood under the next shower beside Scott. Scott had noticed Randall's fine looks before, but tried not to stare. Randall's long dark hair instantly smoothed under the running water, draping along the sides of his neck and strong broad shoulders. Randall had turned his back towards Scott, revealing his finely toned muscular back. Scott couldn't help but stare at that powerful ass, daydreaming how those muscles would ripple when he's fucking someone.
After a couple minutes lost in his fantasy, Scott was brought back to reality as Allen entered the shower room. Allen was the team manager. A sophomore at the college. He had reddish hair and a slim, but muscular build with well-defined broad shoulders. His skin was smooth and pale with light-brown freckles. He had very little body fat, so his skin set tightly against his lean muscles. He had just started body building last year and the results were starting to see through.
Allen was not a big fan of Scott. He detested how Scott was acclaimed as the star quarterback while Allen's roommate was relegated to the side lines.
He stood by the bench as he slowly undressed, piling his sweaty workout clothes next to where Scott had laid his clothes. Scott watched him carefully to make sure Alan didn't notice anything suspicious about the pile of clothes next to where he was stripping.
As Allen removed his shorts, Marcus walked in carrying a stack of clean towels. He handed Allen a fresh towel, which he set down on the bench. Marcus then set one on the bench next to Scott's clothes. He pulled out the used one from under Scott's clothes. After stacking the rest of the towels neatly on the shelf, he walked away back to the locker area.
Allen tossed his towel on the bench, but it slid off the side off onto the floor, When he bent down to pick up the towel, he noticed some blood on the shorts in Scott's pile. His initial thought was that Scott had been in a fight. Since the athletic department had a zero tolerance policy about fighting, this could be some good blackmail material. He picked up the shorts from the pile and gestured to Scott.
“What the f*** are you doing?” Scott yelled coming away from his shower. He quickly walked over to Allen who stood there in his underwear, holding Scott's shorts in his hand. He never really cared too much for Scott, nor was he impressed by Scott's alpha-male tone.
“Is this blood? You've been fighting again?” Allen threw the shorts at Scott, who stood there unsure of what to do. If he got caught fighting, he would be benched for the rest of the season. Coach Slater had already warned the team several times about this.
Allen picked his own shorts off the bench and pulled his cell phone out of the pocket.
“Dude, don't turn me in.” Scott begged, but Allen was deaf to it. Allen was one of those guys with an inferiority complex. Once he found some dirt on someone, he was going to use it to the fullest.
“F** you, football hero.” He replied with a cocky smirk on his face. Allen turned his back to Scott and began dialing coach Slater's number. Scott could see there was no way to talk him out of this.
Scott's anger grew intensely at the disrespect from this cocky piece of crap. As Allen stood with his well-formed back towards Scott. Scott pulled the knife which he had concealed under his shirt on the bench. Scott held the knife backwards in his right hand with the blade pointing out by the pinky.
He wrapped his left hand around Allen's face, covering his mouth and pulled his head backwards, causing him to arch his whole back. Allen's arms instinctively fell to his sides, thinking he was going to fall backwards. His muscular torso and abs stretched out to their max, fully exposing every feature from his pecs down to his outee navel and light red trail of hair, which led down the middle of his adonis belt to the rim of his jock strap.
With a powerful, single swing around Allen's firm body, Scott buried the knife to the hilt, deep into Allen's navel. Allen's hips jumped forward in a powerful thrust. His eyes widened as his painful yells were muffled in Scott's strong hand. Scott held him there for a few seconds feeling the strong sophomore's chest heaving and writhing in pain. He then let go of the knife, which was still protruding from Allen's fully-stretched abs.
Allen's toes curled as the sickening feeling in his stomach made him begin to go limp. He felt as if he was going to faint, but exerted every effort to resist. His back pressed firmly backwards against Scott's naked chest behind him. His hands clasped around Scott's right wrist. His breathing calmed as his muscular upper back slowly slid down Scott's chest, abs, groin and down to his thighs.
Scott stepped back, letting Allen fall completely unto his side. Allen looked down at the blade in his gut, holding it as still as he could with both hands. His legs writhed as he tried to subdue the pain in his gut. He looked up at Scott with his bright green irish eyes with a look of surrender and disbelief.
As if in slow motion, Scott felt Randall's, muscular arms wrap around his torso just below his right arm. Randall's broad, heavy shoulder, rammed into Scott's chest, bringing him off his feet into a full tackle as Randall's strong, manly body landed atop of his. The two slid a couple of feet across the wet, slippery floor. Randall held the strong, quarterback down in his powerful embrace. The two nude jocks wrestled around. Scott had a hard time getting any good hold on the slippery, soapy body of the assistant coach. Randall's manly groin was pressed firmly against Scott's. The rubbing against each other fully aroused both men. Randall pinned down Scott's right arm down, but the quarterback was able to free his left.
Scott looked for an out. They were pressed so tightly against each other in their grappling, that Scott could feel Randall's whistle pressing into each of their chests. He reached his left hand behind Randall's neck and pulled the strap of the whistle tightening it around Randall's bulky neck.
Randall, at first grinned at what seemed to be a futile move on Scott's part, but he realized, this was slowly, but effectively cutting off his breath. His face reddened as Scott's grip on the strap made it harder for him to breathe. He tried a few moves, but could not get Scott to let go of the strap. He looked over at Allen, who still lay writhing on the floor a couple of yards away, watching the two struggle against one another. Their eyes made full contact.
Allen, knew he had to help Randall. He slowly began to crawl across the floor towards the two. He wasn't sure how he was going to help, but knew he had to. When he got close enough to help, he grabbed Scott's left hand and pulled it downwards, which, at first, tightened the strap around Randall's neck, but as Scott's hand slid down to the side, this gave Randall an instant reprieve from the choke-hold. Randall immediately wrapped the fingers of one hand around Scott's throat. Scott could feel the numbing sensation in this throat as the air was being being cut off.
Allen held Scott's left hand against his smooth, bulky pec. Scott could feel the young guy's heart pounding heavily in his chest. Scott reached his hand lower, sliding it down the center Allen's smooth chest, across his rippled abs and to the handle of the knife in Allen's navel. He gripped it firmly and pulled it upwards, along the center crease in Allen's abs, slowly slashing his gut open. As the blade ripped through his abs from the navel to just below the sternum, Allen's legs gave a powerful couple of flailing kicks into the air with his toes spread wide as the blade tore through his guts.
“Huwaaagghh!!” His yell became muffled and gurgled as the blade tore further upward in his body, and blood moistened his smooth, silky lips. He let out a large spew of blood, and Allen's throbbing, handsome body gave one final shutter and stilled.
Randall had heard Allen's cry, but was too intent upon strangling the life out of this prick. He now held Scott's smooth, veiny neck with both hands and his grip was getting tighter by the second. Scott's face was starting to turn blue and his limbs began slowly numbing. Randall knew the quarterback was only seconds away from passing out.
Then a cold, sharp blade penetrated deep into his lower abs, just below and to the right of his navel. His legs stiffened and his hips pressed firmly against Scott's youthful, muscular body. He stared down into Scott's calming eyes. All of his anger seemed to flush away in a singular moment as his grasp on the young man's throat weakened.
Scott looked up into Randall's widely opened eyes. He could feel the Randall's manhood pulsating and pumping his liquid ecstasy between their naked bodies. Randall's breath became deep and slow, as if he were trying to calm away the pain. Scott gave the blade a slight twist, which caused every muscle in Randall's body to flex as he let out a bellowing holler of pain.
“Aaaaaaaaaagggghhhh!!!”
Randall's manly face tilted back and Scott stared at his massive, out-stretched pecs as they began heaving up and down with each powerful breath. Scott gave the knife another twist, which sent another shock-wave of energy through the man's hunky body. This sensation of the man's fully-flexed naked body, rubbing against him, especially as their cocks rubbed together, was really arousing to Scott. He twisted the knife again and felt Randall's manhood rub against his groin.
The feeling put Scott over the edge as he began feeling his own manhood in full salute. He tried for another twist of the blade, but Randall was already going limp, his strong, powerful body finally succumbing to the loss of blood which flowed down across Scott's smooth, muscular abs. His eyes were squinted shut from the pain and his mouth stood agape, just inches above Scott's face. Scott could feel Randall slowly dying as his body slowly lowered, back down, pressing his slightly hairy chest against his own smooth one. After one final twist, Scott tasted Randall's last breath as he sighed his last.
He laid there for a couple of seconds, feeling the warmth from Randall's body pressed firmly against his own. The exuberance of reliving the fantasy by killing two more men, filled his chest. He rolled Randall off of him next to Allen and got back under the running shower, rinsing off the blood as he stared at his two latest handsome victims.
Scott hurriedly rinsed himself off in the shower. Randall and Allen's bodies lied against one another staring blankly at the ceiling as their blood flowed in the water running across the shower floor.
Scott understood that wink old man Jensen had given him. He had seen his father do the same thing. It was a sign from a secret society that his father operated from the underground chambers beneath the church.
Despite the instruction to go home to his father, Scott made a detour back to the college. He badly needed a shower, plus he wanted to check up on Marcus, who the three of them had left behind as they chased Ryan into the woods.
Scott entered the locker room where the young runner had caught him and his buddies earlier. His clothes were still slung over the bench by his locker. Everything was just as they had left it.
His heart was still pounding in his chest. What a rush it was to ram his blade into that freshman's body and watch him writhe in pain. The adrenaline continued coursing its way through his veins.
Scott placed his knife under his pile of sweaty workout clothes and the towel that he had been using just before they had given chase Ryan into the woods. He slipped out of his shorts and kicked them under the bench. His body was caked in dirt and sweat, with blood splatter on his hands, arms and torso. His excitement from the earlier events was clearly recognizable. He had to hurry and wash the blood off his body before anyone noticed.
“That for me?” Scott immediately recognized the voice of Marcus, the team's towel boy. He had been with Scott and the other two before Ryan caught them. He was Scott's little boy toy. Marcus' deep brown eyes stared up at Scott like a puppy begging for a morsel. He was looking down at Scott's hard manhood.
The quarterback merely grinned back at the towel boy. While, yes, he wanted (needed even) to burn off some hot steam, he knew that it wouldn't be too long before the next workout group ended and the locker room would get a little more traffic. “Not now, maybe later. I'm gonna need another towel when you have the time.”
Marcus looked down like a lost little boy. Scott turned and headed into the showers. He purposefully flexed his glutes as he walked away, knowing Marcus was watching his sweet muscular ass. The quarterback's mind was racing with the events of the day. He had never felt such an adrenaline rush in his whole life. It made him feel so......alive.
Scott stepped into the running shower, placing his face directly into the warm stream. Tilting back his head, he let the steamy water flow down his chest and abs, trickling away the dirt and blood. He lathered up the soap all over his tight, muscular body. His hands glided easily across his smooth sudsy skin. He turned and leaned backwards into the shower steam. It was soothing, relaxing.
He closed his eyes, thinking about the expression on that freshman's face when he had their blades rammed into his flesh. It reminded him of the look on Marcus' face when he was about to orgasm. He had always loved that look, but the look on Ryan's face as he spilled his seed from his gut-fucking with a knife was exhilarating. Oh, how he yearned to do it again.
“Hey, Scott, you still here?” Scott was startled from his reminiscent daydream by the voice of one of the team assistant coaches. “I thought everyone had left already.” Randall had played for the college team just two years before. He had tried to go pro, but injured his knee. He returned this year as an assistant coach while he worked towards getting his master's degree.
Randall pulled off his workout shirt, revealing a finely chiseled body. He was in his mid-twenties with long dark hair and brown eyes. His body was definitely that of a man. His whistle hung down in the crevice between his solid pecs. He had some chest hair that he regularly manscaped and a well-defined happy trail from his innie navel down.
Scott watched him out of the corner of eye. Partially because he was such a fine specimen of a man and partly because he was worried Randall would catch a glimpse of the blood on his shorts, or the knife he had hidden under his pile of clothes on the bench.
Randall stripped down and stood under the next shower beside Scott. Scott had noticed Randall's fine looks before, but tried not to stare. Randall's long dark hair instantly smoothed under the running water, draping along the sides of his neck and strong broad shoulders. Randall had turned his back towards Scott, revealing his finely toned muscular back. Scott couldn't help but stare at that powerful ass, daydreaming how those muscles would ripple when he's fucking someone.
After a couple minutes lost in his fantasy, Scott was brought back to reality as Allen entered the shower room. Allen was the team manager. A sophomore at the college. He had reddish hair and a slim, but muscular build with well-defined broad shoulders. His skin was smooth and pale with light-brown freckles. He had very little body fat, so his skin set tightly against his lean muscles. He had just started body building last year and the results were starting to see through.
Allen was not a big fan of Scott. He detested how Scott was acclaimed as the star quarterback while Allen's roommate was relegated to the side lines.
He stood by the bench as he slowly undressed, piling his sweaty workout clothes next to where Scott had laid his clothes. Scott watched him carefully to make sure Alan didn't notice anything suspicious about the pile of clothes next to where he was stripping.
As Allen removed his shorts, Marcus walked in carrying a stack of clean towels. He handed Allen a fresh towel, which he set down on the bench. Marcus then set one on the bench next to Scott's clothes. He pulled out the used one from under Scott's clothes. After stacking the rest of the towels neatly on the shelf, he walked away back to the locker area.
Allen tossed his towel on the bench, but it slid off the side off onto the floor, When he bent down to pick up the towel, he noticed some blood on the shorts in Scott's pile. His initial thought was that Scott had been in a fight. Since the athletic department had a zero tolerance policy about fighting, this could be some good blackmail material. He picked up the shorts from the pile and gestured to Scott.
“What the f*** are you doing?” Scott yelled coming away from his shower. He quickly walked over to Allen who stood there in his underwear, holding Scott's shorts in his hand. He never really cared too much for Scott, nor was he impressed by Scott's alpha-male tone.
“Is this blood? You've been fighting again?” Allen threw the shorts at Scott, who stood there unsure of what to do. If he got caught fighting, he would be benched for the rest of the season. Coach Slater had already warned the team several times about this.
Allen picked his own shorts off the bench and pulled his cell phone out of the pocket.
“Dude, don't turn me in.” Scott begged, but Allen was deaf to it. Allen was one of those guys with an inferiority complex. Once he found some dirt on someone, he was going to use it to the fullest.
“F** you, football hero.” He replied with a cocky smirk on his face. Allen turned his back to Scott and began dialing coach Slater's number. Scott could see there was no way to talk him out of this.
Scott's anger grew intensely at the disrespect from this cocky piece of crap. As Allen stood with his well-formed back towards Scott. Scott pulled the knife which he had concealed under his shirt on the bench. Scott held the knife backwards in his right hand with the blade pointing out by the pinky.
He wrapped his left hand around Allen's face, covering his mouth and pulled his head backwards, causing him to arch his whole back. Allen's arms instinctively fell to his sides, thinking he was going to fall backwards. His muscular torso and abs stretched out to their max, fully exposing every feature from his pecs down to his outee navel and light red trail of hair, which led down the middle of his adonis belt to the rim of his jock strap.
With a powerful, single swing around Allen's firm body, Scott buried the knife to the hilt, deep into Allen's navel. Allen's hips jumped forward in a powerful thrust. His eyes widened as his painful yells were muffled in Scott's strong hand. Scott held him there for a few seconds feeling the strong sophomore's chest heaving and writhing in pain. He then let go of the knife, which was still protruding from Allen's fully-stretched abs.
Allen's toes curled as the sickening feeling in his stomach made him begin to go limp. He felt as if he was going to faint, but exerted every effort to resist. His back pressed firmly backwards against Scott's naked chest behind him. His hands clasped around Scott's right wrist. His breathing calmed as his muscular upper back slowly slid down Scott's chest, abs, groin and down to his thighs.
Scott stepped back, letting Allen fall completely unto his side. Allen looked down at the blade in his gut, holding it as still as he could with both hands. His legs writhed as he tried to subdue the pain in his gut. He looked up at Scott with his bright green irish eyes with a look of surrender and disbelief.
As if in slow motion, Scott felt Randall's, muscular arms wrap around his torso just below his right arm. Randall's broad, heavy shoulder, rammed into Scott's chest, bringing him off his feet into a full tackle as Randall's strong, manly body landed atop of his. The two slid a couple of feet across the wet, slippery floor. Randall held the strong, quarterback down in his powerful embrace. The two nude jocks wrestled around. Scott had a hard time getting any good hold on the slippery, soapy body of the assistant coach. Randall's manly groin was pressed firmly against Scott's. The rubbing against each other fully aroused both men. Randall pinned down Scott's right arm down, but the quarterback was able to free his left.
Scott looked for an out. They were pressed so tightly against each other in their grappling, that Scott could feel Randall's whistle pressing into each of their chests. He reached his left hand behind Randall's neck and pulled the strap of the whistle tightening it around Randall's bulky neck.
Randall, at first grinned at what seemed to be a futile move on Scott's part, but he realized, this was slowly, but effectively cutting off his breath. His face reddened as Scott's grip on the strap made it harder for him to breathe. He tried a few moves, but could not get Scott to let go of the strap. He looked over at Allen, who still lay writhing on the floor a couple of yards away, watching the two struggle against one another. Their eyes made full contact.
Allen, knew he had to help Randall. He slowly began to crawl across the floor towards the two. He wasn't sure how he was going to help, but knew he had to. When he got close enough to help, he grabbed Scott's left hand and pulled it downwards, which, at first, tightened the strap around Randall's neck, but as Scott's hand slid down to the side, this gave Randall an instant reprieve from the choke-hold. Randall immediately wrapped the fingers of one hand around Scott's throat. Scott could feel the numbing sensation in this throat as the air was being being cut off.
Allen held Scott's left hand against his smooth, bulky pec. Scott could feel the young guy's heart pounding heavily in his chest. Scott reached his hand lower, sliding it down the center Allen's smooth chest, across his rippled abs and to the handle of the knife in Allen's navel. He gripped it firmly and pulled it upwards, along the center crease in Allen's abs, slowly slashing his gut open. As the blade ripped through his abs from the navel to just below the sternum, Allen's legs gave a powerful couple of flailing kicks into the air with his toes spread wide as the blade tore through his guts.
“Huwaaagghh!!” His yell became muffled and gurgled as the blade tore further upward in his body, and blood moistened his smooth, silky lips. He let out a large spew of blood, and Allen's throbbing, handsome body gave one final shutter and stilled.
Randall had heard Allen's cry, but was too intent upon strangling the life out of this prick. He now held Scott's smooth, veiny neck with both hands and his grip was getting tighter by the second. Scott's face was starting to turn blue and his limbs began slowly numbing. Randall knew the quarterback was only seconds away from passing out.
Then a cold, sharp blade penetrated deep into his lower abs, just below and to the right of his navel. His legs stiffened and his hips pressed firmly against Scott's youthful, muscular body. He stared down into Scott's calming eyes. All of his anger seemed to flush away in a singular moment as his grasp on the young man's throat weakened.
Scott looked up into Randall's widely opened eyes. He could feel the Randall's manhood pulsating and pumping his liquid ecstasy between their naked bodies. Randall's breath became deep and slow, as if he were trying to calm away the pain. Scott gave the blade a slight twist, which caused every muscle in Randall's body to flex as he let out a bellowing holler of pain.
“Aaaaaaaaaagggghhhh!!!”
Randall's manly face tilted back and Scott stared at his massive, out-stretched pecs as they began heaving up and down with each powerful breath. Scott gave the knife another twist, which sent another shock-wave of energy through the man's hunky body. This sensation of the man's fully-flexed naked body, rubbing against him, especially as their cocks rubbed together, was really arousing to Scott. He twisted the knife again and felt Randall's manhood rub against his groin.
The feeling put Scott over the edge as he began feeling his own manhood in full salute. He tried for another twist of the blade, but Randall was already going limp, his strong, powerful body finally succumbing to the loss of blood which flowed down across Scott's smooth, muscular abs. His eyes were squinted shut from the pain and his mouth stood agape, just inches above Scott's face. Scott could feel Randall slowly dying as his body slowly lowered, back down, pressing his slightly hairy chest against his own smooth one. After one final twist, Scott tasted Randall's last breath as he sighed his last.
He laid there for a couple of seconds, feeling the warmth from Randall's body pressed firmly against his own. The exuberance of reliving the fantasy by killing two more men, filled his chest. He rolled Randall off of him next to Allen and got back under the running shower, rinsing off the blood as he stared at his two latest handsome victims.
Scott hurriedly rinsed himself off in the shower. Randall and Allen's bodies lied against one another staring blankly at the ceiling as their blood flowed in the water running across the shower floor.