Sub X

The coke bottles from coach had been the obvious culprit but Mason's guests had kept drinking from them with no repeat incident. Maybe just coincidence?

Regardless, the teen got into the habit of bringing his own water to practice.

His caution turned out unnecessary - no more locker room orgies, sadly.

In fact, the team was going to play against Oak Hills High School on Saturday. Just a friendly pre-season game, but the school was an old rival.

Mason was almost last to shower, with most of the locker room clearing out.

"Your last throw was kinda gay," Hudson said to a teammate as he stripped. He had been criticizing nonstop. "You didn't put your legs right. Gay posture messes up the whole throw."

"I slipped off," Milo defended himself. "The grass was wet."

The tan Milo - famous for his 8-pack - threw a towel over his shoulder before heading toward the showers. He was Greek, which fit with his greek-god-body.

"Excuses," quarterback Hudson said, grumpy but playful. "Better not suck dick at the real game or they'll rape our asses again."

Wide receiver Milo flashed a grin between his full lips. "Oak Hills' best players graduated last year. We'll mop the floor with these seniors."

Hudson chuckled. "Fine, okay. Can't wait to make Fag Hills lick my sweaty asshole. Hey water-boy," he turned toward the door, "stop staring at my dick like you're about to swallow it."

As far as Mason could tell, the water-boy had simply walked by to add more shampoo to the dispenser. The small Asian kid didn't seem outwardly intimidated. He was surely used to Hudson's comments.

Mason got surprisingly little abuse considering how weak his skills were, but he was just reserve.

He followed the two players into the shower, joined by the water-boy who had to wash off shampoo he had gotten onto his hands.

Mason began working shampoo into his wet hair when his dick grew hard with ridiculous speed. He needed to hide it from the others. No... *flash* he needed to get it sucked... he needed cum... *flash* Milo was hard and ready and...

Mason's breath grew weak. He rushed out of the showers, slipped on the floor and rammed his shoulder into a locker. Gear flew off its hooks and he tripped over a helmet. As his vision blurred he pulled himself along the lockers to his own and fiddled with his inhaler.

Almost out of air he pressed it into his mouth and...

*Flash*

His mind cleared.

Still naked and wet, Mason returned to the showers with his phone. By the time he arrived, Hudson had already buried his face in the water-boy's ass and licked as if it were the last ice cream on earth.

Milo humped Hudson's broad back.

Since Mason didn't want to risk his phone getting submerged, he waited outside the showers and filmed.

The water-boy turned around, grabbed Hudson by the wet hair and shoved his dick down the homophobe's throat. Meanwhile Milo had dropped to his knees and fingered Hudson open.

Just as Milo aimed his dick at Hudson's hole, the water-boy cummed, pulling out to shoot across Hudson's face. Then the water-boy continued to shower as if nothing had happened.

Milo pushed Hudson face down, and leaned forward to hug the beefcake from behind as he pushed in.

They fucked in their embrace and Mason zoomed in on Hudson's blissful face.

Soon after, Milo got up and showered as if he had been doing nothing else all along, while Hudson now grabbed his own dick and jerked off, still face down, with cum dripping from his hole.

It was probably better not to be caught filming them in the shower when they 'woke up'.

Mason rubbed himself dry, got dressed and was about to leave. Then he noticed the shampoo bottle - almost empty - sitting on a bench. He pocketed it before heading out.

Almost at the front exit, the teen athlete headed into the toilets to relieve his bladder before the ride home.

Inside were two boys smoking weed out the window. Mason knew them as notorious rebels.

TJ was an extremely lean Asian who Mason only knew from chemistry class. The Korean with an undercut put out his roll of weed on the windowsill.

His friend Julian, aka Jool, was known as the guy to ask if you needed something to smoke. He had green hair and a studded leader jacket.

"Can't you do that at home?" Mason asked, half-joking.

TJ shrugged. "We're not on the way home. About to head to detention."

"Smelling like that?"

Jool rolled his eyes. "Or fucking what? If they give us *more* detention, fuck it."

TJ sighed with a look at the basin. "I'd wash it off my hands at least but every bathroom in this school runs out of soap by lunch break."

Mason pulled out his stolen shampoo bottle. "I have some left from the locker room."

"Man," Jool said. "You jocks get all the privileges. Give it."

Both boys washed their hands thoroughly.

TJ stripped as if it was simply part of washing his hands. He took off his shirt with care and even folded it, but by the time he pushed his pants and underwear down he seemed more desperate.

Mason started filming when Jool pulled his jacket off. The ripped shirt revealed a shoulder tattoo.

The duo made out while their dicks hardened. TJ was shaved smooth, Jool had a shaped forest.

They 69-ed on the ground, gagging each other with hands in hair, each boy hoping to make the other one go deeper.

When Jool's mouth overflowed with his friend's cum, Mason walked out. He had confirmed his suspicion. Any liquid in the locker room was not safe.

*

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*****

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*

Mason finished his punishment laps and found the locker room empty. Apparently there hadn't been an orgy today.

Aside from the lack of people, there was a small, red paper notebook on the bench, open on the latest entry.

Normally Mason wouldn't have been curious but he spotted his name. He couldn't help but take a closer look.

"...and the only explanation is that the active substance in Mason Burman's inhaler acts identical to the anti-compound. Despite escaping the effect of substance X, Mason does not seem inclined to disrupt my trials. In fact, he could even assist me. He has however recorded 2 trials, which could be a problem."

Mason swallowed hard.

The entry concluded with "I will continue as planned, using both the stronger and milder formulas of substance X on Saturday."

Stronger and milder formulas? He needed to keep his inhaler ready - which he would have done anyway. By now, the teen was bringing his own water *and* his own shampoo. He dressed without showering and left, feeling invisible eyes everywhere.

*

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*****

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*

Saturday came quickly. Mason and the boys waited for coach in the locker room, fully geared up in Redfield Raccoons uniforms.

"Old guy Saunders is taking his sweet time," Milo said.

"We don't need no speech," Oliver said. "We know we'll tear those Oak Hill fucks apart."

Hudson fist bumped the air. "Yeah, those cocksuckers don't know what's coming for them."

While the teammates riled themselves up, Evan seemed to look at the door with concern. Center guard Evan was a quiet, strikingly green eyed boy with a crazy huge chest. His abs popped through the fabric of his uniform. Outside of sports, he wore huge nerd glasses.

Mason followed Evan's gaze to the closed door and said, "Let's have a look. Coach can't abandon us."

Mason and the four inches taller Evan left the musky room just to run into the water-boy, who hurried along the corridor, with packs of bottles.

"Hey, where are you going?"

In that moment, Coach Saunders turned around the corner and shoved the water-boy ahead with a slap on the shoulder. He threw his arm around Evan's torso and opened the locker room door.

As soon as the team spotted their coach, they cheered and the man launched into a shouted pep talk.

The water-boy looked back to answer, slightly out of breath. "For the Oak Hill folk. Coach's orders. Friendly game and all."

Mason stayed in the hallway, looking after the water-boy. He had a suspicion. Coach had never given gifts to the opposing team before - never mind that water bottles were a pretty lame token of friendship.

He'd have to miss that pep talk.

***

The Oak Hills boys and their trainer had gotten an empty classroom on the ground floor to prepare. Redfield wasn't a big enough school for two locker rooms. Mason snuck around the building to watch. Crouching below a window, he watched the bottles getting delivered.

The enemy athletes in green colored gear greedily took their first sips.

At first it looked like they were just continuing to prepare when Mason realized they were taking their clothes *off* instead of fixing them up.

As soon as the Oak Hill boys had lost their pants and most of their shirts, they collapsed into a tight pile.

With their coach at the center, the entire team wildly rubbed off on each other.

Mason aimed his phone camera at the chaotic pile of limbs. It took a minute for him to spot the rules of the scene.

Rule one was that every boy had a desperate need to cum and was willing to use any nook and cranny found in the body pile to stimulate himself. Rule two appeared to be that nobody wanted to touch themselves.

This led to boys jerking off whatever their nearest dick was, while trying to get their own dick grabbed. It wasn't a sensual give and take, it was a mechanical push and shove. No passion, little grunting.

After barely another minute, the enemy coach sprayed his cum into the face of the Oak Hills towel-boy currently humping the arm pit of the buffest player Oak Hills had.

Mason hurried back. The game was going to start in five minutes and something told him there'd be a few guys in green gear with cum flakes still drying on their faces when the bell whistled.

*

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*****

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*

The game had been insultingly easy to win for the Raccoons. In all fairness, Oak Hills had pulled it together in the second half but they'd gone in with an inexplicable lack of energy from the start. As if they had been... spent.

The victory party in coach's basement had full attendance, even though the adult supervision meant a lack of alcohol.

With the dim room drenched in the smell of Axe, the whole team was assembled with some hair still damp from the showers.

Everybody was loosening up, except for Mason. The mild version of substance X was still about to be used and there was no better target than this party.

Evan and Hudson were the heroes of the day, having contributed the most to an admittedly trivial win.

Hudson was waiting for his turn at the darts board, as he received another congratulatory slap on the shoulder.

"Good job, Hud."

"Ha," Hudson said. "We sure emptied our ball into those Fag Hills homos. All they can do is go home and suck each other off."

Evan was sitting on the sofa with his legs spread wide, holding a playstation controller. He rolled his green eyes, which were now behind the trademark nerd glasses. "Don't act like it was so fucking hard. My grandma could have scored a touchdown tonight."

"Yeah well, it's their own fault for playing gay. I was on top of my game. Like I was on top of Cindy last night."

Cindy was Evan's girlfriend but the hunky center guard took the comment in good spirits, probably because he had just pulled ahead in the race on screen.

Coach came down the stairs, followed by the water-boy. The small Asian kid struggled under the bulky weight of loose soda cans.

"Drinks are on me, boys," the trainer said. The rest of his little speech was drowned out by cheers.

The water-boy, or rather coke-and-sprite-boy, made a round to deliver a can per team member. Mason, who had been leaning by the stairs, was last in line.

"Coach is getting generous with the liquids," the teen athlete said as he took a can.

The water-boy could shrug, now that his arms were no longer full. "I heard he's trying to get more money out of the principal. Must have plans since he stopped being a chem teacher and went full sports."

The coach had been into chemistry? Someone developing an ominous "substance X" would naturally have such a background...

The water-boy blabbered on. "He's looking out for us. I mean... for you guys."

Mason ruffled the short boy's hair. "Nah," he said with hopefully not too much sarcasm. "You're totally one of the team, uh... you."

"I'm Naoto."

"Great. I'm Mason."

"I... I know. I wash your towels."

There were five seconds of awkward silence. Naoto opened a can for himself. "Well, drink up. See you around."

Mason brought the can to his lips but didn't drink. He had a hunch.

It took ten seconds until Milo took his shirt off, followed by Evan doing the same and... nothing else happened. They just kept chatting and playing.

A few more boys lost their shirts and Jacob, the Buff, played with his nipples, absentmindedly.

Once the coach himself went shirtless after failing his round of darts, Mason was the only one fully clothed.

With heart pounding, the unaffected teen bared his torso. Was this all the mild formula did?

A minute passed until a player named Karter pushed his jeans off. Karter was a brunet, brown skinned guy with thick legs, struggling out of his pants. The cornerback's massively muscular quads and calves had earned him the moniker 'Thunder-K'. His cut dick was semi hard, thickest just behind the head. His bush was trimmed into a mustache.

More pants dropped. Chatter continued.

The coach spanked Hudson's bare, pale ass with a loud slap and it didn't cause more than a quick chuckle.

Evan was done with his game, handed the controller over and slowly jerked his clean shaved, uncut tool, making his low hanging balls jump for joy.

Yet more pants dropped. Even soda-boy Naoto went nude, safe for the socks. He sat down next to Milo, letting their naked legs press together.

The Buffs were last in line at darts, feeling up each other's bare chests, while their semis casually brushed against each other.

Mason was the last to lose his pants. He turned on his camera. Would anyone mind?

"Uh, hey Thunder-K," Mason asked the brown-skinned pretty-boy with huge hamstrings. "Mind if I document tonight?"

Karter dropped next to Evan and the both of them slowly jerked off, skin on skin. Karter threw up a middle finger and grinned. Evan threw up satan horns and stretched his tongue out.

Mason took pictures.

His next shot was of the Buffs, inner arms around each other's hips, outer arms masturbating. Then came Milo with Naoto's face buried in the tall athlete's shaved pits.

The photo of Hudson showed him holding up both middle fingers, coach loosely hugging him from behind like a lover.

After photographing the whole team, Mason got bold.

He rushed upstairs into his teacher's living room and searched the drawers for a ruler. The teen was afraid he'd miss his chance once the team started cumming and their dick would soften.

His fear turned out to be unfounded. When he returned to the basement, hardly anyone was jerking off but all dicks were still rock hard. Instead of working their packages, the boys flicked their own nipples - at least if it wasn't their turn on the dart board or at the playstation.

Mason started with Karter and Evan again, who sat in the same spot, now chatting while rubbing their nipples. Mason didn't know if he should ask, so he just laid the ruler onto Karter's dick. Six and a half inches.

"So that's when I noticed," the unfazed Karter said to Evan, "that bitch brought my car back with a scratch."

"Wow, I'd break up with Cindy if she used my car without telling me."

Karter grinned from ear to ear as his nipple flicking grew fast. "We struck a deal. I wouldn't go apeshit and she has to blow me, on command, anytime, no ifs and buts, for a whole month. It's been a great three weeks so far."

Evan laughed. "Wow, now I'm *hoping* Cindy breaks my shit."

Evan's dick was an uninspiring 5 inches but with impressive girth. Regrettably Mason hadn't brought anything to wrap around and measure it.

The team's size ranged from Santino's meager 4 incher to Kareem's honest to god 8.5 incher. Funny that the most extreme dicks were both among the reserve players.

Most boys hardly realized they were being measured, but a few helped out by holding their dicks horizontal as they carried on with their conversations.

"Enjoying the party?" Naoto asked as Mason put the ruler on the water-boy's dick.

"I'd say so. How bout you?"

Naoto shrugged. "I've got several towel loads to wash but I haven't done a single one tonight. Monday's soon enough for that."

Naoto had a not too noteworthy 5.5 incher. Mason typed the information into his phone and moved on. The list had grown quite comprehensive.

Mason's last measure was for Hudson and the coach, who had an animated discussion about darts. Apparently one dart had gotten stuck exactly on the line between the 1-segment and the bull.

"We could average the numbers," coach said, his hand on the quarterback's hip.

"Fuck that," Hudson said. "We're doing the whole fucking round over. I'm making this board my bitch."

"Let me," Mason said and plugged the darts from the board to hand them over. "Here you go, Hud. Good luck."

Mason measured the sagging 6 inches on the coach and a fearsomely thick 7 inches on Hudson.

After now having touched every single dick on the team, Mason felt quite accomplished but somewhat exhausted. The basement was getting too hot, despite the AC. Should he head home? Nobody seemed to be interested in seriously jerking off.

Behind him, coach unloaded water bottles. The teammates had heated up enough to be thirsty all over and practically tore the water from the man's hands, loud as ever.

Mason took a bottle, too, but hid it among his clothes, instead drinking from the one he had brought.

Hudson, ever the alpha male, was the first to drop to his knees. Two defense players took aim and sprayed him with piss that had once been coke.

The boys paired up. Evan and Karter 'Thunder-K' started 69-rimming. The Buffs were inseparable as always. August was eating the ass of the dick-size-contest winner Kareem.

With all the rimming, jerking, licking, kissing and self-fingering, all talk had stopped. This was the trusty, old formula from day one again.

Somehow, lube had appeared on the table in the middle among packs of chips. One couple was already fucking. Naoto had shoved his mediocre dick into the grimacing Milo's ass, who hadn't quite been ready to take it.

So Mason had a reason to stay a little longer.

Going around filming again, he noticed that the nipple obsession from the mild formula was still in effect. His teammates seemed to be under two spells at once, but luckily they could help each other out, flicking, tonguing and biting each other's chests.

When Mason heard August's deep groans as a random boy entered his ass, he figured it would be a waste not to participate.

Lubing up his own dick, Mason walked over to the piss drenched Hudson, who was already on all fours, liking a puddle off the floor.

With the room smelling like Axe, sweat and fresh piss, Mason's deep breaths gave him a full dose of teen hormones.

Without as much as a word of warning, he pushed into Hudson's hole. Much tighter than the first time, the less prepared bottom jock whimpered and rose onto his knuckles.

Mason pushed him down and started humping, one hand on Hudson's hip, one grabbing his hair.

The crowd was not vocal but 40 guys fucking and sucking in one basement still made some noise.

Mason felt a dick knocking at his own backdoor. He turned around to see a player who's name he didn't remember right away. He was tall, but most boys on the team were taller than Mason.

Not willing to get assfucked, Mason vacated his spot and let the new guy enter Hudson. Mason himself scooted around the bottom jock and pulled Hudson's head up by the hair.