Lockeroom Raid

"You join us here at Capital Stadium to the joyous scenes of the national women's xi victory over their male counterparts. 4-1, a real hammering to male pride as our courageous girls proved that for all their obscene wealth and lofty reputations, our men's team is nothing but a bunch of spoilt little boys!"

Erin caught the crestfallen grimace of her male presenter colleague in the corner of her eye. Pleased with her feisty intro, and displaying a perfect smile, she decided to make the man squirm a little more.

"Well Chris, the men certainly threw their weight about with some crunching tackles, but the technical ability of the women reigned supreme no?"

Her overweight and over-the-hill colleague looked flustered, sweat dripped down his face. He had loudly predicted, as all right-minded men had done, that his idolised lads were going to smash the women's team. He had been very public in dismissing this highly anticipated charity soccer game as nothing more than a feminist stunt that would backfire in their faces. But now he was dumbstruck as his beautiful blonde co-anchor stared him down, her eyebrows raised in slight amusement, her mouth ever so subtly hinting at a smirk.

"Nothing to say on this female victory Chris? Or the humbling of manhood?" Her smirk became a grin as she recalled the bet they had made before the game...

Down on the pitch, eleven humiliated men shuffled off towards the tunnel, eager to escape the mocking jeers of what seemed a mainly-female crowd. They were accustomed to adoration and godlike worship, but the women of the crowd seemed to hold them in contempt. Down the tunnel and kicking open the male lockeroom door, Captain Mark Williams angrily tore off his shirt and threw it on the floor. Berating his teammates for their selfish displays on the pitch, the men had nothing to respond with and sullenly stripped off their muddy kits.

Back in the TV studio, a producers voice in Erin's ear informed her that the male team was now undressing and so she was not to switch to the ceiling cam of the lockeroom as planned to catch their reaction. But Erin's enjoyment of this sweet female victory over manhood could not be perturbed. She'd give the victorious female fans what they desired:

"And now lets cut straight to the reaction cam for the male losers post-game reaction!"

Across the nation, the world, groups of women soccer fans gasped, amazed as their TV screens cut from Erin to a HD camera of the male lockeroom! The men were unwittingly and angrily stripping off their national kit; ripped abs, toned muscles, strong thighs all exposed for the entire world. A nation of female observers paused and bit their lips as the forward stud Kyle Henderson put his hands on either side of his jockstrap and... a gorgeous thick penis spilled into view. Stepping out of his underwear, the darling of the nation, Kyle Henderson, was now completely starkers to the entire world. His lithe young body and heavy penis had been captured for eternity.

"Oh look! Centre back duo Vaughn and Tomkins are not happy with each other!" Erin lustily commented as the world watched these two strapping six-foot plus men, completely naked, arguing to the point of physically shoving each other. Two impressive stallion cocks swayed about as they exerted their wounded pride on the other. Thick heavy testicles bounced around whilst meaty dicks slapped about side to side. By now every one of these defeated men were nude and making their way to the showers. Pert butts and most of their cocks available for all to see before Erin's production staff managed to cut the feed. As the hot water sprung forth, these imitations of Adonis sought to cleanse themselves, cleaning off the mud and the shame.

*

The metal door clanged violently against the wall and eleven muddy boots clapped along the tiles. Mark tried to make out these invaders through the steam as they came towards this sanctuary of male nudity. They were covered in mud and sweat, wearing shorts and jerseys, oh no, it was the girls! Lined up for inspection, naked and powerless, male jaws dropped as their female conquerors marched boldly towards them with smiles shining as brightly as the trophy they carried. Within each hand, a celebratory bottle of champagne. Male hands clasped tightly their manhoods, desperately hoping to save whatever shred of dignity was left for them. The girls took their time in drinking in the sight of these impressive male torsos, fine pieces of meat indeed.

Captain Serena Scott sauntered towards her male rival, making no effort to hide her visual inspection of his muscled body. By far and away the most well-known female player, with her blazing pace, silky skills and punishing finishing, Serena was the heroine of many a young girl. With her high cheekbones, dazzling blue eyes and long-flowing raven hair, she was also the secret desire of many a male fan. As captains for their respective genders, Serena knew Mark well enough from PR events. He was prone to arrogance and hot-headiness, but she rubbed along with him well enough. He was in fairness a great player and she respected him for that. The two captains stood barely a foot from each other. Serena, still in her mud-covered kit, languidly holding the victors' trophy and a bottle of champagne. Mark, naked and dripping wet from the shower, clutching what was left of his male pride.

"Something to hide Mark?" she taunted.

It wasn't a great line but it had the desired effect. Mark saw red and angrily threw his hands aside, he stood tall and faced her square on.

Serena didn't break her gaze with his rebellious eyes, the stifled giggles behind her told her all she needed to know of Mark's less than impressive manhood. Zoe Cavendish, the youngest female player to wear the shirt at nineteen, was not so subtle:

"What a cute little button! Now we know why Taylor left him!"

The girls broke down in fits of laughter, the male captain's head fell to look down upon his thin, little penis. His one imperfection, his great shame that no gym session could ever make up for. Serena however would be magnanimous in victory, placing a comforting arm around Marks broad, naked shoulders she offered her friendship.

"Come now boys, we all wear the same shirt of our country. Have a drink with us winners in friendship."

Happy to accede, the men allowed themselves to be coaxed out of the showers back towards the dressing room by these beguiling ladies. Each woman took a male player into her charge, some kissed their cheeks and took them by the hand, others offered a comforting arm towards the defeated males; Zoe however, went straight up to young Johnny Green, the 18 year old wonder kid, and by grabbing his huge cock, dragged him along. She smiled in satisfaction as she felt this young virgin's penis harden within her grasp. Relaxing together on the benches, both warring sides put the blows and indiscretions of the game behind them and enjoyed the girl's champagne and each other's presence. After experiencing the deep sense of shame of their defeat, the men felt strangely thankful to their female victors for treating them so nicely. While some sought the protection of a towel across the lap, most of the lads made no attempt to hide or cover his exposed penis.

The sweet words and gracious compliments of the girls emboldened the majority of the male into proudly enjoying their nakedness. The bubbles flowed freely as did tongues, the divides between the two sides evaporated, as did inhibitions. Zoe's hand was now casually placed around Johnny's thick cock as she lightly kissed his lips and whispered sweet words of adoration. Serena jokingly teased Mark and sharply pinched his balls to hammer home the point. Melissa had three of the hunkiest men standing before her desperate for her judgement on who was best endowed. Her hands roamed freely over the huge shafts as she deliberated on her ruling. Maisie was giving Kyle a frisky if yet stern talking to for a painful tackle he had inflicted on her during the game. His head nodding sullenly in apologies while her hand was clasped firmly and threateningly around his soft testicles, ready to squeeze should he dare to disagree with her.

Outside in the tunnel, veteran sports journalist Pam admonished her useless film crew. They hadn't got any footage of the players coming in! As usual, everything was left down to her. The sharp click of heels piqued her interest and desire. Down the tunnel came Emilia and the Channel Seven film crew. With her girlish looks and hint of upper-class refinement, Emilia was the untouchable young princess of her father's TV channel. Derided by her ageing competitors like Pam for her silly short skirts and revealing blouses, her suggestive innuendos and shameless flirting with players, Emilia nevertheless stood unmarked. She knew her worth, and it was better than anyone else.

Pam had to physically grab her rival as she clicked on by.

"Where do you think you are going!?"

Emilia rolled her eyes at this old has-been:

"I've been given full post-game access to the lockerooms. Haven't you?"

With a deriding sneer, Emilia clicked her way down the tunnel and threw open the male lockeroom door for her film crew.

This was the latest in a series of humiliations Pam would no longer accept. She, who had once been named media woman of the year, she who had legally campaigned to open male lockerooms to female access, she the first black female journalist to cover the male national team, she the first woman to legally marry her girlfriend. She would not be outdone by this posh heiress and thus beckoning her film crew onwards, she hurried towards the male lockeroom.

As the two women and their assembled groups of cameras and sound crews barged into this private area, Kyle desperately reached for some scrap of clothing to cover his huge member. Though Maisie, laughing with abandon, pinned down his arms, admiring the exposed ten inches laying heavily on his panting torso.

Emilia drank in the gorgeous sight with desire and ambition. These male celebrities were vulnerable, cocks out, nowhere to hide, this sensational exposé could make her name. These supposedly untouchable gods, here, naked for her, ready to show to the world and make a career upon. Her film crew was quickly barged aside by Pam and her camera-girl. A flustered Pam was perplexed to find the women's team here, seemingly enjoying a post-game drink with eleven nude men. Completely stripped bare. This was not her first time in a lockeroom around an undressed male team, but she had often found the male stars somewhat reluctant to engage with the well-known 'lesbian feminist warrior' and they often shielded their modesty before her with quickly snatched towels and anxious schoolboy blushes. A guarded reaction Pam often found amusing, as men's penises were not at all of interest to her, more a source for disdain and annoyance. They represented the shameful misogynist male ego that she had fought against throughout her career.

Emilia savoured the sharp and threatening sound of her heels as she strutted into this previously inaccessible masculine domain. On sighting her sauntering towards them, Vaughn and Tomkins seized their previously discarded shorts and hastily tried to get them on before they faced the humiliation of a naked interview on camera. But before they could cover up, an expensive pair of Prada heels stamped on either pair of shorts, trapping the garments around their ankles. Simultaneously they looked up from the bench to find Emilia, hands on hips with an alluring pout staring down at them.

She took her time looking their hunky bodies up and down. Oh yes! Her viewers were going to love seeing the more vulnerable side of these two angry young men. Squeezing down between them both on the bench, she teasingly placed her arms around both of these muscle-bound gods and allowed them drink in her temptress scent. Before they could protest, the camera light switched to red, and they were naked before the world. Impressive, stallion-like dicks lolling between their open legs onto the bench. The young camera-girl knew what she was doing, and knelt directly before them to give Emilia's fans the perfect unrestricted view.

Pam and her crew watched in astonishment as Emilia went on with her interview like it was the most natural thing in the world for these egotistical millionaires to be put through such embarrassing public scrutiny. Furiously seeking a more high-profile target, Pam marched towards the man all the tabloids had been pursuing for weeks, Jordon Elam. Jordon was clearly in a desperate state, pathetically pulling at a towel that two laughing female players simply refused to allow him. On hearing Pam's boots approach him from behind he gave up on any hope of reclaiming the towel and his dignity, with no option but to stand naked and sullen before her, head bowed towards his thick black cock.

"You been avoiding the media for weeks Jordon. Now I'm going to have the answers." Pam's eyes flashed with threatening disdain towards the dumb young kid, who foolishly replied he would not be taking interviews today. Snatching at his exposed balls she imprisoned them within her strong grip and began to squeeze. She would have answers whether he liked it or not. This arrogant punk wasn't going to stop her career. Pam had never touched a man's parts before. She had no idea if this was particularly painful for him, nor did she care. Unknowingly crushing his testicles to within a touch of popping, she began to dig her long nails in.

The pain put any thought of resistance out of Jordon's mind, as he gasped in complete agony, eyes already beginning to glisten. As Pam slightly eased her grip yet maintained her hold, she explained to him that nothing was off-limits now. Her camera-girl got into position for a headshot of Jordon, reassuring him that it would just be from the chest up, easing his fear a little as he tried to wipe away the tears from his eyes.

The interview was all that was threatened as Pam dug deeply into the darkest secrets of his private life. Is it true your wife Monica is divorcing you? Is it because of the rumours that you visit a dominatrix? Is it true you like to be fucked by a strapon? How much wealth do you stand to lose in a divorce? Will you be bankrupt? Is it true that you are on United's transfer list? Every dumb attempt Jordon made to skirt the issue was rewarded with an unforgiving crushing of his testicles. Before long he was readily admitting everything, just hoping to make it through the rest of the interview with his manhood still intact and functional.

Pam could barely believe it, three or four ground-breaking headlines exerted from one interrogation! Jordon would be ruined by these revelations whilst she was looking at huge fame for securing them. Thanking him sarcastically for the interview, Pam gave a knowing smile to her camera-girl. Jordon's knees were close to buckling, tears streaming down his face and his balls had now turned an unhealthy purplish colour. Accidentally dropping her microphone between Jordon's legs, Pam knelt down to retrieve it and came face to face with his huge black cock. Turning to the still filming camera, she put her hand to her mouth and gave a mock intake of breath and cheeky wink to the camera. Wrapping things up, the camera-girl and Pam congratulated each other, 'that esposé will certainly go viral lol!'

They walked away from Jordon without another word to him, he was left nursing his aching testicles, feeling defeated and ashamed, wondering what his wife's army of divorce lawyers would make of his admissions to cheating as well as his fetish for being pegged and dominated. On national television! And yet despite the impending destruction of his elite lifestyle, all he wanted to do was retrieve the large vibrator hidden in his bag and sit deeply upon it, imagining it was Pam so ruthlessly anally invading him.

Nick sat a little away from the wild scenes, in stunned disbelief at what he was witnessing. Did his teammates not see what was happening? These women weren't admiring their hunky bodies, they were taking ownership of them. Who were all these other women now entering this private room? Owning the men's nakedness? Smirking at them, silently mocking their exposed manhood! Female film crews seemed to be running amok, stadium staff and unknown suited women were now also entering through the wide open door. He swore he saw some of them taking pictures on their phones! It wasn't fair! What gave these imperious women the right to strip away a man's privacy!? This would never be allowed in the women's lockeroom! And yet for all his indignation, Nick was painfully aware that his penis was rock hard, standing upwards to attention for these authoritative women. His forehead was prickling, sweat poured down into his eyes making them sting, it wasn't fair!

He couldn't let these girls see him in this vulnerable state. He frantically searched for a towel or anything that could help him regain just a little modesty, but strangely none were at hand. He sneaked back to the shower area seemingly unnoticed. Kneeling in the corner behind a small partition wall, he gripped his penis and began to jerk. In his minds' eye he pictured all those victorious women, enjoying their humbling of these once proud men, now reduced to naked playthings. He pictured Serena, her pert breasts and raven hair, her coy smile that hinted at an innate knowledge of superiority over all men. His pace quickened, he felt so guilty, so ashamed, a star player, a multi-millionaire, reduced to kneeling naked on the wet tiles of a shower, shivering and hiding from a group of women as he jerked himself silly. He began to grunt, head bowed as he came close to climax. Suddenly, two pairs of little white tennis shoes appeared before him.

He removed his hand and looked up in dismay. Standing over him, both with their camera phones out, were two girls, unknown to him, two youngish college girls. One was a dirty blonde, Barbie-like, wearing the uniform of the stadium support staff, a tight polo shirt showing off impressive young boobs, shorts and bronzed bare legs. The second girl was also from the support staff, though much smaller, with curly red hair and small apple-like breasts, somewhat boyish looking. She wore a mischievous smile as she pointed her phone towards this entrapped celebrity, caught red handed, caught with his cock in hand! Nick was dumbstruck, the utter humiliation! He gasped helplessly as his penis bobbled and then ejaculated, spurts flew up and fell all over the redhead girl's bare legs. He gave a miserable cry as he watched his cum spurt out involuntarily, it was utterly ruined for him, he felt no pleasure, nothing but shame as thick shoots covered from young girl's legs and shoes.

With the pathetic show over, Nick remained on the floor, trembling at the shame. The girls looked stunned at the mess he had made. They had captured the whole shooting match on their phones. And now they destroyed what was left of Nick's ego. They laughed, they laughed so loudly at his miserable little performance that Nick begged them to be quiet else any of the press came to investigate the commotion in the shower room. Regaining some composure, they took their time to assess this pathetic sight. His penis was now limp and retracting rapidly, it certainly didn't look too impressive now. His eyes were gleaming, looking up at them pleadingly, like a puppy. He was not wearing a stitch of clothing and seemed incredibly embarrassed by this exposure.

"Clean up this mess!" The blonde girl ordered, pointing to her friends legs.

Sighting a flannel to his left, he crawled over to pick it up but the authoritative blonde stamped her foot on it.

"No! You'll do it yourself! Lick it up!" She shouted with a pointed finger at him, commanding him as she would a rebellious puppy.