Blake practically burst into the dorm building, his heart hammering against his ribs like a drum. The moment he threw open the door and saw Ethan sitting at his computer, playing DOOM, the tension coiling in his body finally eased. Ethan, wearing a faded old T-shirt and soft cotton sweat shorts, jumped in surprise at Blake's sudden entrance.
"Blake?" Ethan's voice was lazy, still half-lost in thought. Before he could say another word, Blake rushed forward and wrapped him in a hug from behind.
Ethan jolted, his body instantly going rigid. He could feel Blake's hair brushing against his ear, his hot, solid chest pressing flush against his back. Blake's semi-hard, full cock pressed firmly against him, grinding with a heavy weight. Blake's breathing was deep and even, a little rough, spraying hot, moist air onto the sensitive skin behind Ethan's ear.
"Asshole! Get off me! I didn't pause!"
Ethan glanced in panic at the monitor, but it was already too late. He'd have to start over from the checkpoint. He threw a punch at Blake's stomach, but it was like hitting solid steel, and a jolt of pain shot up his own arm.
"Sorry, I just really wanted to hug you, Ethan," Blake whispered in his ear. "Can we play together?"
"Are you crazy?" Ethan had no idea what Blake was trying to pull. "And let go of me, you just got back from out—"
"I showered." Blake tightened his arms, pulling Ethan completely into his embrace. He gave Ethan no room to think or struggle, as if declaring his ownership. Ethan could smell the clean soap on Blake's skin, mixed with the cold scent of pine and that faint, salty musk common to jocks.
"I don't care if you showered, let go. And I've never seen you play a video game in your life."
Ethan wasn't used to this kind of intimacy. Blake's hug was making his body feel hot.
"I play some. Like FNF."
Blake let him go but rested his hands on Ethan's shoulders, looking down at him seriously. Ethan was a little surprised by Blake's taste in games but still shot him a contemptuous look. "That's not video game."
"Everyone starts somewhere. Can't we play together?"
"This one doesn't have a co-op mode," Ethan said, his voice sharp, almost arrogant. "And your laptop would just get you shredded in online mode. I don't want to play with a noob. Go play Among Us with your hockey bros and those cheerleader girls. This is not your zone."
"You're scared." Blake laughed. "You're scared I'll get better than you."
"Bullshit!" Ethan shrieked. "You slut, don't forget I'm the boss here!"
Staring at the game, now back at the checkpoint, Ethan lost all interest and shut down his PC. When he turned around, Blake had already stripped off his clothes, his tall, muscular body clad in nothing but a pair of CK jockstraps. Ethan's gaze unconsciously slid over his powerful thighs, the full muscles gleaming white under the light.
"Damn, you wear that in the locker room?"
Ethan narrowed his eyes, staring at Blake's body. This seemed to excite Blake a little; he gave a little hop, as if deliberately showing off the heavy swing of his bulge. While Blake didn't have a massive cock, its thickness and the two heavy nuts beneath made his bulge look substantial.
"It's not fashion one. Besides, everyone knows what they are. Most guys don't wear these antiques anymore, but it's not like they've never seen one. A few traditionalists like them. Our coach still prefers them. I'm just an old-fashioned guy from an old-fashioned town. It's not weird for me to like old-fashioned things, right?"
*That jockstrap is hardly an antique model,* Ethan thought. He knew Blake owned some expensive, sexy underwear, and now he had a pretty good idea of where it came from. But what had Blake just said? That he liked dressing like this? Ethan didn't have long to ponder it, because Blake suddenly scooped him up.
"Fine, no games. But we can go for a run tomorrow morning. And we can sleep together now."
Before Ethan could even let out a cry of protest, he and Blake were tumbling onto the bed. Blake's lean, ripped body was wrapped around him.
Ethan trembled all over, his breathing becoming ragged and uncontrolled. Blake's scent and his intense masculine presence stimulated all of Ethan's senses. He felt Blake's broad pecs pressing powerfully against his spine, his defined abs tight against Ethan's slim waist. The natural rise and fall of the cock at the base of his thigh sent searing heat through the thin cotton of Ethan's shorts, making him feel incredibly sensitive. This powerful male body enveloped him completely, like a perfectly fitted cage.
Ethan couldn't resist, and he didn't want to. Feeling Blake's presence so clearly silenced the chaotic thoughts in his mind. He was trapped in a soft, helpless struggle, sinking into the suffocating intimacy. Blake's scent had a strangely calming magic, like a safe cocoon wrapping him up. His brain, exhausted, swayed between sweetness and surrender.
Slowly, Ethan relaxed his body, sinking completely into Blake's embrace. He inhaled Blake's scent, feeling his warmth spread through him. His consciousness blurred as he fell into a sweet, dangerous box.
It was a bright box, the cold air inside a mix of chlorine, rubber, and sweat. The box was a strange, spacious room lined with lockers—a locker room. Though he'd never set foot in such a private, masculine domain, the reality of the dream left him no room for doubt. Tall lockers stretched in rows into the distance, the floor was slick with water, and the air was thick with the scent of male hormones. A thrilling excitement enveloped him, his adrenaline surging.
He felt a chill on his back, as if something was watching him. He turned around slowly.
Blake.
And yet, something was wrong.
Blake held his head high with pride, just as he had when they first met, a bad-boy jock smile straight out of a TV show on his face. And this Blake seemed taller, bigger than the real Blake—
*CLANG.*
As Ethan stared, Blake slammed him against the lockers, his hand hitting the metal cabinet with a heavy thud. He was pinned in the shadows. A raw, sharp, predatory smile Ethan had never seen before spread across Blake's face.
"Yo, nerd. What are you doing here? This is not your zone."
The voice was low and gravelly. The real Blake's voice was clearer. This was a living, breathing alpha.
He tore open his shirt with one hand, his sculpted muscles glistening under the lights as if every inch was condensed power. Blake was now wearing only a pair of low-rise training shorts. His chest and abs were engorged with blood, looking almost menacing, and slick with a sheen of sweat that looked like oil. He let out a chilling, sexually charged grunt. That smile was arrogant and cold, his eyes flashing with a completely unfamiliar aggression. His hair was soaked with sweat, giving him a wet, bestial look.
The beast lowered his head and whispered in Ethan's ear: "Or did you come here to get fucked by me?"
Primal aggression, pure carnal desire, and unquestionable dominance. Ethan knew, Ethan recognized this aggressive alpha jock. It wasn't the real Blake; it was the long-held, initial perception of Blake in his own mind, the image of Blake the bully.
Blake's eyes held nothing but desire and a deep, predatory stare. Ethan felt an extreme sense of suffocation. His body instinctively trembled, hot desire surging through his veins, his skin breaking out in goosebumps as if shocked by electricity. He wanted to run, but he couldn't move an inch. He could even feel his dick throbbing violently, getting hard with a tremor. He had never felt such fear, never felt such submission. But at the same time, a wild, subversive pleasure was growing rapidly inside him.
Blake stared down at him. Ethan could clearly smell the mixture of sweat, a raw male scent, and some kind of beast-like primal odor on Blake, making him feel dizzy. It was an extreme, threatening male scent, unleashed wantonly before Ethan, proclaiming an unparalleled power and dominance.
"Look at you, what a pathetic sight," every word from Blake was like a sharp blade, piercing Ethan's sensitive ears. "You get weak in the knees just smelling me?"
Blake reached out, roughly grabbing Ethan's neck, his thumb rubbing back and forth over his vulnerable Adam's apple. The force was so strong it made it hard for Ethan to breathe. Then, Blake's fingers tightened suddenly, slamming Ethan against the cold lockers behind him. The metal door let out a loud *BANG*, making Ethan's eardrums ache and his body jolt violently.
Ethan's back was pressed hard against the locker, his ribs and spine aching, his body bent. He was completely trapped, the enclosed space making him panic. But what was even more terrifying was the Blake in front of him.
"Trying to run?" Blake's oppressive breath hit his face, hot and powerful as his muscular body completely sealed him in. That huge body was like an iron wall, pinning him firmly.
Blake's big cock was already bulging in his low-rise shorts, looking longer and thicker than the real Blake's—was it bigger than his own? Ethan had no time to think about that. Blake's pre-cum soaked the white shorts, making the red, engorged cock underneath almost fully visible, practically tearing through the thin fabric. The massive head rubbed against Ethan's stomach, radiating a terrifying heat.
Ethan's breathing became more rapid. Under Blake's searing gaze, Ethan felt as if his body was being pierced, igniting a secret desire to be violated by a powerful physique. He felt a pain in his groin, not a physical pain, but a sharp ache from intense hunger and the oppressive feeling of imminent violation.
Without another word, Blake shoved his thick thigh between Ethan's legs with brutish force, preventing him from closing them, forcing them into a passive, open position. Blake leaned down, roughly grabbed Ethan's waistband, and yanked. Ethan's cotton shorts and underwear were torn away in an instant, exposing his own cock, which was already hard enough to burst.
Then Blake's hand gripped Ethan's face, forcing him to look up. A thick, hot wad of saliva was suddenly spat deep into Ethan's throat. His mouth was filled with the rich, hormonal scent from Blake's wicked mouth. Blake then roughly pried open Ethan's mouth with his fingers, coating them in their mixed saliva. Ethan's massive erection was throbbing, the stimulation from the filth and humiliation so intense it made his mind go blank. All his resistance crumbled in that moment.
"Heh." Blake let out a low, mocking laugh, the curve of his lips utterly evil, the desire in his eyes like a burning wildfire. The lewd way Ethan trembled beneath him satisfied Blake.
Then, Blake forced Ethan's legs apart, pinning one of them with his own, and shoved his saliva-coated fingers into Ethan's hole.
"Nnngh… aahh!"
Ethan screamed as Blake thrust two fingers inside, brutally opening him up. The knuckles of his fingers forced their way in, and Ethan felt himself being savagely stretched, like Blake was trying to wreck his insides.
The knuckles pushed deeper, making Ethan feel completely violated, completely at the mercy of Blake's lust. Each push sent intense waves through Ethan's body, overwhelming his senses and awakening a primal desire he had never before acknowledged.
Ethan's screams gradually subsided into gasps, his whole body leaning against Blake as he panted, taking in the jock's strong body and masculine scent.
"Fuck, you're tight," Blake breathed heavily, his fingers working deeper, stretching Ethan's anus further to prepare him for what was coming.
"Blake, please…" Ethan whimpered, lost in a haze of pleasure mixed with fear. The sheer intensity made his heart race, and he couldn't decide if he wanted more.
"What's that? Crying already?" Blake sneered, his voice full of mocking arrogance. He reveled in Ethan's predicament, making any resistance seem futile.
"Stop! You can't do this!" Ethan gasped, a mix of protest and longing in his voice. Despite his fear, an undercurrent of anticipation flowed through him, each stab of Blake's fingers igniting a deeply buried flame.
Blake just chuckled, a wicked and triumphant sound. "Oh, but I can. And I will. You're mine now." With that, his fingers pressed deeper, curling just right to hit Ethan's sweet spot, and an involuntary gasp of pleasure escaped Ethan's lips.
"Ah! No…" Ethan sucked in a breath, a wave of ecstasy and embarrassment washing over his cheeks. He could feel his body trembling, laid bare under Blake's unrelenting dominance.
"Just give in, man. Let go," Blake urged, clearly enjoying the power he had over him. "You know you want this."
Blake pulled his fingers out, leaving a glistening trail behind. Then he took his own cock—veiny, hot, and clearly a product of Ethan's imagination—and pressed it brutally against Ethan's wet, trembling, clenching hole. Blake guided his cock, slowly pushing the searing head inside.
Ethan's body tensed violently, pain and excitement warring within him. He wanted to resist, but his body was completely out of his control. He watched as the massive flesh blade slowly disappeared inside him.
Once the head was in, Blake paused. He moved his hand from his cock and once again shoved his fingers into Ethan's mouth, stirring them around.
"You like being fucked by me, don't you, nerd? Look, I'm barely inside and that big cock of yours is already leaking. Hmph, pretending to be a dominant, but you're just a slut who craves being used by a hot, built jock. Aren't you?"
Ethan whimpered, the pre-cum from his massive cock dripping onto Blake's defined abs, leaving a sticky trail. Just then, Blake suddenly slammed his hips forward, shoving his entire cock inside.
"Ahhh—" A broken moan spilled from Ethan's throat. The sound was a mixture of extreme pain, unbearable humiliation, and the pleasure of being burned by desire. The huge tip, like a swelling pillar, brutally broke through his tight sphincter with astonishing force. Ethan's body convulsed violently, his vision flashing white, tears streaming down his face from the mix of pre-orgasmic pleasure and tearing pain.
Blake gave him no time to adjust, no warm-up, not even a moment's pause. With the unstoppable advantage of a true alpha male, he began to fuck Ethan's body, relentlessly and with terrifying force, driving his huge cock deep inside again and again.
*THWACK! THWACK!* Blake's hips slammed violently against Ethan's ass, the brutal sound of flesh hitting flesh mixing with the dull clang of the vibrating metal lockers. Each thrust nailed Ethan's entire body to the cabinet door. The massive cock sliding in and out brought wet, trembling moans from deep within him. The rough friction of his back against the cold locker door left red marks. His asshole was stretched open impossibly, slick with his own fluids from the tearing entry of the thick rod.
Sweat, saliva, lube, and some other unknown fluid mixed together, running down Ethan's tense legs, soaking his body and the floor. He squeezed his eyes shut, his consciousness on the verge of shattering. He knew his body couldn't handle such a massive invasion. And yet, Blake's brutish, violent assault pushed Ethan into a frenzied state beyond pain. It was more intense, more subversive than any pleasure he had ever experienced. His nerves were overloaded, his body like a feather floating on the ocean, completely at Blake's mercy.
Blake suddenly grabbed Ethan's waist, pulling him closer, and drove his astonishingly thick cock into the deepest, softest part of Ethan's body with ultimate brutality.
"See, this is the final destination for a fucking weakling like you," Blake whispered in Ethan's ear, his voice a victor's pant, every word a nail hammered into Ethan's heart. He bit down hard on the sensitive skin of Ethan's earlobe, the rough force almost tearing it off, drawing beads of bright red blood. "Cry. Beg me. That pathetic body of yours was made to please someone like me, someone born to be above you."
"Yes… YESSSSSSS!!!!"
Shame, ecstasy, pain, conquest. All his senses exploded at once. Ethan felt a suffocating sense of being completely controlled. His mind buzzed, the world blurring around him. His body went numb, a white-hot blank, as he was ravaged and pounded by Blake. Each fierce thrust of that huge cock made him feel like he had lost all autonomy. A series of numbing contractions pulsed deep inside him, accompanied by a tearing pain, and he could no longer hold back. Desire erupted like a volcano.
As Ethan's mind went white, Blake lifted his body, and Ethan's legs instinctively wrapped around Blake's waist. Blake's cock hammered even deeper inside him, stretching him further, each thrust grinding against his prostate. The continuous stimulation made Ethan's toes curl as he clung to Blake.
"You like this, you crave being fucked by me, you love being used by me. You've been spying on me in our room, fantasizing about this, haven't you? You fucking horny nerd, tell me what you want!"
Ethan's ass cheeks took the force of Blake's repeated, powerful thrusts. Blake's controlled rhythm began to accelerate. The friction and pleasure made Ethan scream, "I want your cock! Fuck me! Own me!"
"You want a Chad's cock, don't you, nerd?" Blake's voice grew deeper, turning Ethan's brain to mush.
"Yes! I want the Chad I hate the most, the jock I despise! I want their bodies, I want their cocks, because I'm a gay incel!!! I hate you because you only fuck those Stacys instead of me!"
Ethan had no idea what nonsense he was spouting. He only felt his body craving the next thrust to push him over the edge. Blake threw him to the floor, straddled him like a heroic cowboy mounting a horse, and began pounding into him with a rapid rhythm.
The orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, extreme and violently forced to its peak. He felt all the restraints inside him shatter, his body arching violently. At the height of his frenzied state, in a climax of pain and ecstasy, a broken, choked, hoarse voice escaped his lips:
"Daddy—! Fuck me, Daddy!"
Ethan's body shuddered violently, and a hot stream shot out, thick, white fluid splattering across Blake's solid abs. Blake let out a deep, rough groan, and his thick cock pulsed deep inside Ethan's body, reaching its own final peak.
"...Hah." Ethan's eyes shot open. He was gasping for air, hot semen soaking his sweatpants, so sticky he could barely move. In reality, he was lying in bed, with Blake sleeping peacefully while holding him gently. His own body was still spasming from the extreme arousal of the dream. The cold, real touch of the sheets pulled him forcefully from that debauched, upside-down fantasy.
Blake's breathing was even and steady, his body radiating heat, his strong arm cushioning Ethan's neck like a pillow. The feeling was strange. He thought about what he had said in his dream.
Ethan was shocked by the words he'd uttered. That Blake in the dream was—yes, the bully Blake he had created, the asshole jock who had always tormented him, the despicable Chad. Yes, he had fantasized about humiliating, dominating, and even abusing that kind of asshole jock, and he had actually done it. But in this dream, he was dominated and used by Blake, that exaggerated version of Blake...
He looked at Blake and found himself staring, mesmerized. He started to imagine, what if… what if he could completely trust Blake? What if they could get along like real friends? What would that feel like?
However, the moment that thought emerged, it was swallowed by a stronger, darker one.
*Falling for Blake?*
The idea coiled around his heart like a venomous snake. He started imagining more, things he couldn't control—he wanted to be held by Blake, not in a calculated, lust-filled tangle, but in a real, warm embrace. He wanted to be held tight in those strong arms, to feel his warmth and his heartbeat. He even... craved to be overpowered in a more forceful, undeniable way, to be completely possessed, used by him.
*No!*
Ethan stopped himself, breathing heavily, unsure if it was from exhaustion or fear.
If he truly developed these shameful feelings, he would be no different from those Stacys to Blake. At that point, wouldn't he just be another "pussy" for Blake to discard at will? A pathetic toy who, after getting fucked a few times, would wag his tail and beg for affection?
Dark thoughts washed over him in a flood.
*Blake's submissiveness is all an act! Those stories he told yesterday about his family, about his trauma—who's to say any of it was real? It was all to gain my sympathy, to make me lower my guard so he could play with me more easily! This fucking "Chad," this sunny, handsome asshole, he's just using me as a temporary, novel sex toy! All his seemingly warm gestures are just a means to manipulate me better!*
The only real thing was that Blake had fucked him. Blake, that bastard. Ethan himself had an 8.5-inch monster that would make most men feel inadequate, yet he had been fucked by Blake, that average-sized jock.
Yes, that was the truth.
Ethan's eyes grew cold and determined. He had to regain control. He couldn't be fooled by Blake's fake warmth anymore. He had to dominate Blake, had to bring him more humiliation and abuse, to make him understand once and for all who the master was. He should hate him, despise him, and think only of how to get revenge, to crush him with his big cock. Ethan knew what Blake looked like when he presented his ass like a horny dog, but at the time, Ethan had hesitated, thinking "this is too gay" and "he's probably been fucked by so many men, he's dirty!" That hesitation wouldn't happen again. He would tie Blake up, force him to take his size in the most humiliating way. He would watch Blake suffer and struggle under his massive, overwhelming cock until he finally, completely submitted…
But Blake's body was so warm. Ethan sank back into his arms and fell into a deep sleep.
***
In an apartment building near the university, often rented by students, a room was still dimly lit. The heavy curtains were drawn, and the air was a foul mix of the sour stench of fermented cheap beer, the sickly-sweet smell of weed, and the rank odor of excessive teenage male hormones. The floor and tables were littered with beer cans, some crushed, their sticky contents leaving dark stains on the carpet.
Colton sat numbly on a worn-out sofa, his eyes vacant as he stared at the flickering sports replay on the TV, which no one was watching. He held a can of beer, but he hadn't taken a sip in a long time. Blake... the name that infuriated him filled his every thought, anger pulsing through his veins.
Marcus, on the other hand, was like the master of this chaotic dungeon. He sat leisurely on the other side, rolling a joint, preparing more stimulating fuel for tonight's "party." His movements were practiced and elegant, a stark contrast to the surrounding mess.
The bedroom door creaked open and a teammate, wearing only boxers and covered in sweat, emerged. He walked straight to the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, then nodded at Colton, a strange smile on his face—a mixture of bragging and exhaustion.
"Hey, Colton, I need a break," he said, panting. "That girl in there is wild. You wanna switch in and fuck her? She screams like crazy."
Colton's gaze shifted, but his eyes were still full of hesitation.
The girl in the bedroom was the girlfriend of Terry, who sat next to Colton. Right now, Terry was also clutching a beer can, his eyes empty, like a soulless puppet.
"Go ahead," Terry finally said, his voice trembling like rusting iron scraping together. "That slut… she loves being gang-banged by us athletes. I… I don't care what she does."
He said he didn't care, but his fingers were crushing the beer can. Suddenly, as if his emotions erupted, he violently slammed the can on the floor and growled, "Fuck! Go! She's just a whore anyone can have!"
After saying that, as if trying to escape something, he staggered to his feet and walked into the very room from which his girlfriend's moans had just been echoing. The door closed again, shutting out whatever might happen inside.
The atmosphere in the room became even more oppressive and bizarre.
Marcus acted as if he hadn't seen a thing. He just slowly finished rolling his joint, then sat down next to Colton, offering it to him. His voice was full of understanding and incitement.
"It's okay, he'll understand. Girls are all like that," Marcus said, patting his shoulder. "But that's not what's important. I know you're not thinking about fucking that chick. What you're thinking is, we are the true backbone of this team, the guardians of tradition, right?"
He lowered his voice, the words slithering like a snake into Colton's ear. "Look at what the team has become. Adrian, that arrogant bastard, treats everything like it's his business. And Blake... a guy who crawled out of some small town, thinking he can skyrocket to the top with a pretty face and a little talent. Do they know what honor is? Do they understand the hierarchy?"
"They don't," Marcus answered his own question, his eyes sharp. "On this team, honor belongs to those who have poured years of their life into it, people like you, like Captain Tom, who carry the expectations of their families and the alumni! They are destroying the order and tradition."
"Fuck the order," Gerhard, a third-year player with a flushed face, slammed his beer can on the table. "Right now, this team is all about who can kiss Brennan's and Adrian's asses the best!"
"Kissing ass?" Marcus let out a suggestive, malicious sneer. "Gerhard, you underestimate them. It's much more than just kissing ass."
He leaned closer, and everyone's eyes focused on him. He lowered his voice as if sharing a huge secret, but the schadenfreude in his tone was undisguised.
"Haven't you seen it? Adrian is always going in and out of Blake's room, always has to be with him, in the showers, in the weight room... I bet those 'private coaching sessions' aren't just about strategy. Think about it, the way Adrian looks at Blake, like a butcher eyeing a prime piece of tenderloin. He probably grabs Blake by that golden hair, shoves him against a wall, and tells him that if he wants ice time, he has to do a good job with his mouth first."
This undisguised malice drew lewd laughter from some of the guys present.
"It's not just Adrian," Colton finally spoke, his voice twisted with anger and jealousy. "It's Brennan too! That damn old man! The number of times he calls Blake into his office... I bet they spend more time alone together than he does with his wife! God knows what happens in that office! Blake, that whore, is probably on the coach's desk, ass up, getting fucked by the coach while crying and promising to 'devote everything' to the team!"
"Fuck! That's it!" Gerhard slapped his thigh as if he'd discovered a new continent. "I knew there was something weird about the guys Brennan recruits!"
"That Blake... he took everything that should have been mine!" Colton said through gritted teeth.
"Exactly!" another team member chimed in, fanning the flames. "He took your starting spot, your power-play time, and now even the fucking NHL scouts are only watching him! Why? We all know he spread his legs for them!"
He counted on his fingers. "Look, Blake is a pretty blond boy, Mike is the type old men like, and that Jensen, he's a clean-faced pretty boy too. And a few of the reserve guys, which one of them isn't young and tender? He's not recruiting hockey players, he's fucking building a harem for himself!"
Marcus watched with satisfaction as he guided everyone's emotions exactly where he wanted them. He leaned back on the sofa, his tone deeper and more suggestive, splashing the dirty water even further.
"Harem? Gerhard, you're thinking too simply of Brennan," Marcus sneered ominously. "You think he'd be satisfied just turning the team into his own private brothel?"
He paused, letting all attention focus on him.
"Use your brains. Our new training uniforms, the new equipment we might get next year, where does that money come from? The school board, the alumni association... those fat old fucks who can decide our fates."
Marcus leaned forward, his voice dropping lower, as if sharing a secret that could destroy everything. "You think Brennan wouldn't... 'generously' share his favorite 'pretty boys' to keep those old men happy? Imagine, a little beauty like Blake spending a weekend on some board member's yacht... and suddenly, our team's budget for the new season is approved. This isn't just a harem, it's a business! Brennan isn't just a coach, he's a pimp! He's running a flesh trade with our team, with our honor!"
The room fell into a dead silence for a moment, then erupted in a more intense, mixed fury of shock and excitement.
"Fuck! I knew it!" Colton shot up, his face red from the rush of blood. "This team is rotten to the core! What have we become? A brothel that provides playthings for rich old men?!"
"Because it's a known fact that hockey boys are mostly charming. But Colton, you have pocket money from your dad. Would you obey Brennan's orders to please those fat old men?"
"Disgusting!" Colton shouted, and the others chimed in.
"This isn't about playing hockey anymore, it's a disgrace!"
Marcus watched it all, a smile touching his lips. He knew he had successfully transformed their jealousy and frustration into a burning rage to "defend their honor."
"So, do you understand now?" he said, standing up, his tone tragic and leader-like. "Adrian is his pimp, and Blake is his most expensive headliner! We, the ones who have actually bled and sweated for this team, are treated like trash because he can't control us and make us his whores!"
His words were like a match, completely igniting the anger and humiliation in the room.
"Fuck!" Colton shot up again. "We can't let this go on!"
"That's right!" the others echoed.
"We have to teach them a lesson!"
However, someone voiced hesitation. "But... the regional championships are only two rounds away. If we cause trouble now, won't it affect the games?"
"Affect them?" Marcus sneered. "If we don't do something now, even if we win the championship, it will be Adrian and his 'pretty boys'' victory. The scouts won't notice us. What does that have to do with us? By then, we'll just be cleaned out more thoroughly! What we're doing now is precisely to defend the soul of this team! It's to let the alumni who have watched us for years know that the great tradition of this team is still in our hands!"
When Marcus finished speaking, the air in the room was like frozen gasoline, needing only a spark to explode.
Colton's chest heaved violently, his eyes bloodshot. He slammed his fist against the wall with a dull thud. "That's right! We have to do something! We have to make that bastard Adrian pay!"
"Beat him up?" Gerhard suggested, shaking his beer can. "Trap him in the locker room, break his legs, see how he acts so high and mighty on the ice then!"
"That's too obvious, and we'll be held responsible. Not everyone has a rich daddy like Colton. We'll be suspended, maybe even expelled. The school won't side with us," Terry said, suddenly opening the door. His empty face wore a chilling smile filled with anger and malice.
Everyone looked at Terry.
"Didn't you say he thinks he's a king, and Blake is his boy toy? Didn't you say what he cares about most is his 'Alpha' attitude, that arrogant, untouchable front?" Terry said, word by word. "Then let's turn him into a real whore that anyone can fuck."
The room fell into a dead silence for a moment.
"What do you mean..." Colton's voice was a little dry.
"I mean, we gang-rape him," Terry said, his crazy, cruel eyes scanning the room. "Look! Just like that whore in the room! We gang-banged that whore, and Whitmore is just a piece of meat like her! We find a chance, knock him out, or get him drunk. Then, every single one of us gets to 'fuck' him once. We need to let him know he's nothing but a hole for us to use. We'll film it, record him crying and begging for mercy!"
"Wait, we… all of us… fuck Adrian? Doesn't that... sound a little… too 'gay'?"
Someone voiced an objection, and it seemed many shared this concern. The fanatical fire in the room was doused.
"Faggot?" Terry laughed loudly. "The one getting fucked is the faggot, Whitmore is! We are humiliating, punishing Whitmore! We're going to turn him from a high-and-mighty 'Alpha' into a submissive 'Omega' beneath us. Is that gay?"
"Right, it's not gay," Marcus affirmed. "It's violence. It's revenge. It's a 'judgment' on a traitor. Adrian betrayed the team's traditions, used improper means to seize power, and humiliated us loyal members. We're just returning the favor using his own rules. Doesn't he like to play with power, to use sex to build his hierarchy? Then let's let him taste what it's like to be completely crushed by power, completely humiliated by sex."
He stood up and walked to the center of the room.
"And this isn't for our own release. It's for the team. We need to 'break' his pride, so he can never hold his head high in the locker room again. We need him to remember how he whimpered like a bitch under us every time he sees us. Only then will his fake power structure completely collapse."
"Yes…" Colton muttered, his gaze becoming firm again, even a little fanatical. "He must be punished."
"We need to let him know who the real masters are here," Gerhard chimed in.
The boys' spirits were reignited. Seeing that he had regained control over them, Marcus smiled with satisfaction. This was a den of beasts.
Just then, Marcus's phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID, made an "excuse me" gesture to the group, and walked out onto the balcony with his phone, closing the glass door behind him.
His back was to the room, his voice low, but his posture was exceptionally respectful.
"Yes, sir... everything is proceeding as planned. Colton is completely on our side now."
"...There were some hesitations, but rest assured, I can handle it. They just need a little push."
"Yes, I understand the stakes... At the current odds, we stand to lose a lot if this continues. We are working to… 'correct' that."
"...Okay, I will keep you updated. Thank you, sir."
He hung up the phone but didn't immediately return to the room. He stood on the balcony, looking out at the brightly lit campus. Marcus had known for a long time that he wasn't one of those "promising young men." His hockey career would end with college. But what about those geniuses? Even those with talent were just his pawns. Marcus's smile dissolved into the darkness of the night.
