The final bell rang like a starting pistol, but Chase barely heard it over the roar in his ears. He stood at his locker, forehead pressed to the cool metal door, trying to breathe through the chaos in his head. Everything had flipped overnight. The straightest, loudest, most girl-obsessed jocks in school were suddenly dumb, horny, touchy-feely himbos who couldn’t stop staring at his ass, groping his waist, whispering filthy shit in his ear like he was their personal fantasy come to life. And the worst part? He fucking loved it. The attention made his skin hum, his cock leak, his heart pound like he’d run suicides for hours. But he was still Chase—smart, sweet, closeted Chase—and part of him screamed that this was wrong, temporary, dangerous. The vial in his backpack felt heavier than ever.
A warm puff of breath ghosted over the nape of his neck.
Chase gasped, body jerking.
Big hands planted on either side of his head, caging him against the lockers with a metallic clang. A hard, hot chest pressed to his back, hips grinding forward until the thick ridge of an obscene bulge nestled right between his cheeks. Chase’s knees wobbled.
“Gotcha, pretty boy,” Wyatt rumbled, voice low and dopey, lips brushing the shell of Chase’s ear. The redhead’s wavy, damp-from-shower hair tickled Chase’s cheek, smelling like cedar body wash and clean sweat. He dragged open-mouthed kisses down the side of Chase’s neck—slow, wet, sucking lightly at the pulse point until Chase whimpered and arched back instinctively.
Across the hall, Tanner and Ethan leaned against the opposite lockers, arms crossed over their massive bare chests (they’d ditched shirts the second the bell rang), grinning like idiots. Cole—the blond quarterback with the jawline that could cut glass—and Jason—the dark-skinned tight end whose thighs could crush watermelons—stood nearby, eyes glued to the show, lazy smirks on their faces, bulges already tenting their jeans.
Wyatt’s hands slid down Chase’s sides, thumbs hooking under the hem of his tee and tugging it up just enough to expose the smooth dip of his tight waist. “You’ve been teasin’ me all day, blondie,” he murmured, nipping at Chase’s earlobe. “That fat ass bouncin’ in gym shorts. Those pretty lips suckin’ on your straw at lunch like you were practicin’ for somethin’ better.” He rocked his hips again, letting Chase feel every inch of that twelve-inch monster trapped in denim. “Come hang tonight. My place. Me, the boys. We’ll watch the game… or whatever else pops up.”
Chase’s breath hitched. “Wyatt…”
Wyatt spun him around in one smooth move, backing him harder against the lockers so the metal bit into Chase’s shoulder blades. Their eyes locked—Wyatt’s hazel gone hazy and hungry, pupils blown. He leaned in slow, giving Chase every chance to pull away.
Chase didn’t.
Their lips met soft at first—Wyatt’s mouth surprisingly gentle, plush and warm, tasting faintly of cherry ChapStick and Gatorade. A brush, a press, a sigh. Then Wyatt tilted his head and deepened it, tongue sliding in lazy and confident, stroking along Chase’s, coaxing him open. Chase moaned into it, hands fisting Wyatt’s hoodie. The kiss turned wet fast—sloppy, hungry, tongues sliding, lips smacking, spit slicking their chins. Wyatt sucked on Chase’s plump bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth, then plunged back in, fucking Chase’s mouth with slow, filthy thrusts.
Chase’s hand moved on instinct, diving between them, popping the button on Wyatt’s jeans, tugging the zipper down with shaking fingers. He wrapped around the hot, heavy length—god, so thick his fingers didn’t meet—and stroked from root to tip. Wyatt groaned into his mouth, hips jerking, pre-cum slicking Chase’s palm in sticky ropes.
The hallway was mostly empty now, but the few stragglers stared. Tanner whistled low. Ethan adjusted himself shamelessly.
Wyatt broke the kiss with a wet pop, panting against Chase’s swollen lips. “Say yes, baby. Come over. Let us take care of you.”
Chase’s chest heaved. His cock throbbed painfully in his briefs. He nodded, dazed. “Yeah. Okay. Tonight.”
Wyatt grinned—big, dumb, sexy—and stole one more quick, filthy kiss before stepping back, leaving Chase flushed and wrecked against the lockers.
At home, Chase showered fast, heart hammering. He stood naked in front of his closet, skin still damp and pink, wavy blond hair curling at the ends. He wanted to look… irresistible. He pulled out a cropped white tank—thin enough his pink nipples showed through when it got damp with sweat—and the tiniest pair of black athletic shorts he owned, the kind that rode up his thighs and barely covered half his bubble butt. Underneath, a fresh white jockstrap framed his ass perfectly, the straps digging into his smooth cheeks. He checked the mirror: tight waist, firm pecs pushing against the crop top, plump lips still kiss-bitten, blue eyes bright with nervous excitement. He looked like sin.
Wyatt’s house smelled like pizza, weed, and boy when Chase knocked. The door swung open and there they were—the hottest guys in school, sprawled shirtless across the sectional in the basement den. Tanner’s linebacker bulk taking up half the couch, Ethan’s lean basketball frame stretched out, Cole and Jason sharing a beanbag, all of them gleaming under the TV glow, abs flexing with every laugh, cocks half-hard in loose basketball shorts.
Wyatt was waiting right there. He grabbed Chase’s wrist, yanked him inside, and dropped onto the couch, pulling Chase straight onto his lap. “There’s my pretty boy,” he growled, hands immediately sliding under the shorts to grip bare ass cheeks over the jockstrap. Chase straddled him, knees sinking into the cushions, bubble butt grinding down on that massive bulge. Wyatt’s cock jumped under the fabric, thick and insistent, rubbing right against Chase’s cleft.
The basement air hung thick and heavy, saturated with the musky scent of five jacked-up himbos—sweat-soaked skin, faint hints of body wash, and that underlying tang of raw arousal that made Chase's head spin. The TV flickered with the game, colors dancing across their shirtless torsos, highlighting every ridge of abs, every swell of pecs glistening under the low lights. Tanner lounged with his thick thighs spread wide, one hand absently scratching at his heavy balls through his shorts. Ethan leaned back, dark hair tousled, a lazy grin splitting his face as he palmed his bulging crotch. Cole and Jason shared the beanbag, their massive frames pressed close, eyes already hooded and hungry, like they knew exactly what was coming.
Wyatt's lap was a throne of heat and muscle, his twelve-inch monster throbbing insistently against Chase's grinding bubble butt. The redhead's hands roamed possessive under the tight shorts, fingers digging into the plump cheeks, thumbs teasing the jockstrap straps that framed them like a gift. Chase moaned into Wyatt's mouth, their kiss a sloppy mess of tongues and spit—wet smacks echoing, lips swollen and slick. Pre-cum leaked from Chase's own cock, soaking the pouch of his jock, but he couldn't stop rolling his hips, feeling that massive bulge nestle deeper into his cleft with every grind.
"Fuck, blondie," Wyatt growled against his plump lips, voice deep and dopey, hazel eyes glazed with lust. "That ass is eatin' my cock alive. Keep bouncin' like that and I'll bust right through these shorts."
Chase shivered, blue eyes fluttering as he pulled back just enough to slide off Wyatt's lap. His knees hit the rough carpet with a soft thud, the fibers scratching his smooth skin. He knelt between Wyatt's spread thighs, heart pounding, mouth watering at the sight of that obscene tent. The other himbos watched, grins widening, hands moving to free their own monsters—ten-inchers and up, thick and veiny, already leaking.
"Go on, pretty boy," Tanner rumbled from the side, his voice gravelly, hand stroking his girthy shaft slow. "Wrap those plump lips around it. Bet you've been dreamin' about suckin' that fat dick all day."
Ethan chuckled low, thumb circling his plump head, smearing pre-cum. "Yeah, cutie. Show us how deep you can take it. Choke on that himbo meat like a good little slut."
Chase's fingers trembled as he tugged Wyatt's shorts down, the waistband catching on the thick base before that twelve-inch beast sprang free—slapping heavy against Wyatt's abs with a wet smack. It was a monster: veiny ridges pulsing, the shaft flushed dark pink, foreskin peeled back to reveal a fat, mushroom head glistening with a steady dribble of pre-cum. The musky scent hit Chase like a wave—salty, heady, mixed with Wyatt's sweat—making his own cock twitch painfully in his jock.
He leaned in, breath hot against the tip, tongue darting out to lap at the slit. Pre-cum flooded his mouth—thick, sticky, tasting salty-sweet like forbidden candy. Wyatt groaned, big hand threading through Chase's wavy blond hair, gripping just tight enough to guide.
"Mmm, fuck yeah," Wyatt panted, flexing his pecs so they bounced, nipples hard points in the dim light. "Taste that pre, baby. It's all for you. Prettiest fuckin' boy ever, with those blue eyes lookin' up at me like you wanna swallow my soul."
Chase moaned, lips parting wider as he sucked the head in—plump and spongy, stretching his mouth already. He swirled his tongue around it, savoring the slick heat, the way it throbbed against his palate. Drool spilled from the corners of his lips, mixing with the endless flow of pre-cum, dripping down the shaft in shiny trails. He bobbed shallow at first, cheeks hollowing, sucking wet and noisy—slurp, slurp, gluck—tongue flicking the underside where a thick vein pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Damn, look at him go," Cole muttered, his blond hair falling over his eyes as he pumped his own ten-incher, pre-cum webbing between his fingers. "Those lips are made for cock. Stretch 'em wide, Chase. Make him leak more."
Jason nodded, dark skin gleaming with sweat, hand twisting around his thick girth. "Yeah, bro. Gag on it. Bet that throat's tight as fuck. Milk that pre out—get him nice and sloppy for your pretty face."
Chase took the encouragement like fuel, pushing down deeper. Wyatt's cock filled his mouth inch by inch—hot, velvety smooth over steel-hard core, the ridges bumping his lips as he stretched them thin. Pre-cum poured down his throat in sticky pulses, forcing him to swallow around the intrusion, muscles working. At six inches, the head nudged his tonsils; at eight, it breached his throat, making his eyes water, a gag bubbling up wet and choked.
"Fuuuuck," Wyatt hissed, hips bucking slightly, hand tightening in Chase's hair. "Feel that, pretty? My cock ownin' your throat. So tight, so warm—squeezin' me like a vice. Sexiest boy alive, takin' it like a champ."
Chase gagged harder, throat convulsing around the thickness, but he didn't pull back. Spit bubbled from his lips, foaming at the base of Wyatt's shaft, dripping onto his heavy balls. He bobbed faster, up and down, the wet sounds obscene—gluck-gluck-gluck—each descent forcing more pre down, coating his insides slick and hot. His jaw ached, cheeks flushed red, tears streaming, but the burn felt so good, the fullness intoxicating.
"Choke on it, yeah," Tanner growled, stroking faster, his balls slapping audibly. "Look at that drool—messy little cocksucker. Bet you love feelin' that fat head bully your throat, huh? Swallow more, make him throb."
Ethan leaned closer, free hand reaching to tweak Chase's nipple through the crop top. "Mmm, he's leakin' like a faucet. Slurp it up, cutie. Get that spit everywhere—make it shine. Prettiest slut in school, on your knees for us."
Chase hummed around the shaft, vibrations drawing a curse from Wyatt. He pushed deeper, nose brushing Wyatt's pubes, inhaling that musky red hair scent. Eleven inches now—throat bulging visibly, the heat radiating down his chest. Wyatt's cock flexed inside him, pre-cum gushing in thick spurts, forcing Chase to gulp frantically, excess spilling messy down his chin, soaking his crop top.
"Goddamn, baby," Wyatt groaned, abs flexing as he showed off, veins popping. "Your throat's huggin' me so good—milkin' my pre like you need it to live. Prettiest, sexiest fuckin' boy. Those plump lips stretched wide, blue eyes waterin'... gonna make me nut soon."
Chase pulled back with a gasp, strings of spit and pre connecting his lips to the glistening head, then dove again—deeper, harder, gagging wetly each time. The buddies' dirty talk rained down: "Suck harder, bro." "Choke on that himbo dick." "Messy boy, droolin' everywhere." His bubble butt clenched in the jockstrap, aching for touch, but he focused on Wyatt—tongue working, throat squeezing, hands now cupping those heavy balls, rolling them gently.
Wyatt's breaths turned ragged, hand guiding Chase's head faster. "Fuck—fuck—here it comes, pretty..."
No warning beyond that. Wyatt's hips snapped up, burying all twelve inches balls-deep. Chase's throat spasmed, eyes wide as hot, thick ropes blasted straight down—creamy, potent, flooding him in endless pulses. He choked hard, cum overflowing, bubbling from his nose, spilling down his chin in pearly rivers. Wyatt held him down, groaning deep, pumping load after load, marking Chase's insides.
Finally, Wyatt released, cock slipping free with a wet pop. Chase coughed, gasping, cum-smeared and wrecked—lips swollen, face flushed, tears mixing with the mess. But he licked his lips, smiling up at Wyatt like it was the best thing ever.
Wyatt hauled him back onto his lap, kissing him fierce, tasting his own load. "Good boy," he murmured. "Now... who's next?"
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