My first short story. Let me know what you think plus if you have any ideas for a sequel and prequel. Thanks for reading!
The repeat whistle blared once again but our teenage heroes, each beyond the point of muscle failure, could no longer respond. it had been over an hour, an hour of continuous brutal drills and conditioning since coach blew a desperately needed break whistle, three hours since the tormenting drills started after an already grueling day.
With little to no recovery times between the punishing sets, their oxygen starved bodies soon shifted into anaerobic respiration. Lactic acid ripping through their already torn, aching muscles, accelerating their demise and crippling our teenage football jocks. their limbs, thick and swollen from their hours long ordeal with their veins engorged In blood desperately trying to deliver oxygen to their torn, exhausted and depleted bodies.
Raising the whistle to his lips again, coach looked outward, before him laying in waste, were his once brimming football stars with cocky confidence, superior strength and egos, he, within a matter of a couple of hours, destroyed them into a sweaty steaming heap. the drought bitten dirt beneath them turned to mud, saturated with their sweat, blood, and spit. each of our teens laid there, groaning in agony, each desperately trying to recover, but failing. Pushing up pathetically with their helmeted heads hanging downward from their limp necks, their swole arms, beaten and bruised, unable to support their muscled bodies failed under the strain of their solid weight, sending them collapsing face first, down into the dust where they continued to writhe in pain driven by lactic acid cramps setting in.
Carter, seeing coach about to blow the repeat whistle for another turn of grueling merciless drills, rolled over, and with his last energy locked eyes with him through his cracked and mud streaked visor, raising his trembling and fatigued arm outward, he muttered a hoarsed:
” ..w why…?” His breath wearily exhaling through his mouth guard with his gloved hand reached across his bruised chest towards coach in protest, as if to ask his question be taken for a plea of mercy. his arm dropped suddenly as a convulsion from overuse cramping overtook his firm, thick abs:
”…u ugh..” Clutching his side, he groaned and writhed in agony, turning over as the mud caked his sweat permeated crop top which no longer concealed his shoulder pads as they protruded through his ripped practice jersey.
Coach saw that this was enough. he came and did what was needed. he delivered defeat to his prized top notch receivers In a way they would never forget. he let the whistle drop from his lips and walked calmly away. all 6 Sweat soaked football jocks left writhing in their sweat drenched mud behind him.
Carter wasn’t deserving of this, he knew the team’s faults, his fellow receiver’s brought this upon themselves, but nonetheless he’s sharing in their agony and he knew he needed to lead them out of this. after several moments of breathing and groaning through the cramps, he regained just enough strength to rise, although not for much anything more.
He rolled over onto his battered abdomen, slick with sweat. eventually pushing up on his ripped up knees and forearms he was able to kick his right leg up and supporting his bruised body off of his right knee he staggered onto his feet for the first time in almost twenty minutes. His weary legs, trembling, numb and swollen from the endless sprints, were finding it difficult to keep balance as his sweat and dirt stained sneakers kept sliding in the slick mud. even after a few moments of struggling on his own two feet he still had enough strength to stand on his own power. His aching body struggling to stand erect slouched, his meaty upper body straining his lats and traps as he stumbled and clutched his left elbow. He knew he couldn’t last long, feeling and seeing his precious energy draining before him just by standing there.
Looking around, he found his team mates in peril, gasping desperately for air, their heads craned back in an attempt to open their airways, coughing and choking on their saliva, spiting phlegm and blood into the hot, still, humid air, with their adam’s apples glimmering with sweat as they reacted to their open throat’s demands, arteries flexing out. Sweaty gloved hands prostrated across the wrecked bodies. each of them clutching their firm torsos with an arm and the other grasping the other arm, a leg, or alternate oblique as their leaned out muscles, desperately trying to recover, ached from the strain they were subjected to for so long. he needed to help them back to their feet he thought to himself, he needed to get them out of here thinking there might be another downpour of beatings from coach, he needed to act quickly, but how, in his weakened state? All this rushed through his blurry mind as he staggered towards the nearest downed athlete to him, Zach.
despite his strength and energy severely drained, depleted over the course of coach’s brutal session, Zac’s muscled body still retained its sculpted form. his individual abs, visible below his crop top glistened in the bright halogen field lights, the beams shining through the dirt and grime that accumulated over their sweat slicked slopes, his hairless Caucasian skin did little to conceal his beaten abdominals tho, bruised and black and blue muscles shown through the haze rising and falling with his rapid breathing. groaning with every motion, he saw Carter staggering over who eventually stood over him, weary and beaten, with his jersey torn. Zac limply raised his right hand halfway up towards Carter while his weight leaned on his left elbow on the ground but eventually resting his swollen risen arm on his right knee, caked in mud and grass.
Carter inhaling deeply, preparing to expend what little energy he had left, extended his right hand to his best friend. Zack, in his exhausted state, did his best to sit up a little further, extending his right hand again to meet Carter’s. his tired eyes difficultly trying to train on their hands, they both slowly and cautiously advanced towards each other. Finally both of their gloved hands clasped, making a sound like wet cardboard falling on a tile floor, they both gripped each other’s hands and squeezed, sweat immediately expressed from out of both their gloves through the rips and gussets like a sponge and dripped down Zach’s vascular forearm in thin streams, browned from the dirt and grime built up inside through months of long hard wear in the hot Florida sun.
The moment came, carter initiated the lift. Wincing in pain, he felt his torn biceps strain as they flexed once again, feeling every fiber of his failing muscles lifting off his Humerus bone, he grunted loudly as he pulled Zach’s partially limp body from the mud and dirt, Zach following in suit. both straining through their quickly diminishing and limited energies, but unable to lift successfully, Zack fell back to the ground:
“…I…c cant stand….ugh….after…. all those drills..ugh…so exhausted…..im t too weak, carter….”. exhaled Zack, looking sheepishly upward to Carter, zack’s face flush red and drenched in sweat.
” C c’mon…” Carter responded, suddenly clutching his right oblique with his left hand, right arm still extended towards the downed Zack, staggering and struggling to keep his balance, his thick, cut, lateral muscles showing through his drenched compression shirt and jersey twitched from overuse while a clear bold sweat steak ran down between.
“…M my muscles…ugh..they’re..not responding…ugh..w whats wrong with me?…” replied Zack, his helmeted head knocking backward, eventually reclining on his back, his left leg kicked out while his right knee remained bent upward with his sneaker planted flat on the ground, clutching his right bicep with his left hand, his right hand clutching his core..”I Im…soo…t torn…ugh…” turning over, His faceguard and head gently lowering to the dirt, pulling his right hand besides his face, firmly clawing at the dirt with his gloved hand, his eyes shut, wincing in pain as another cramp overcame and paralyzed his already racked body.
“..w we need…to go. I don’t know if coach has more…we need to go”. Carter pleaded with Zack. again extending his arm outward. Zack eventually overcoming his painful ordeal and matched carter’s gesture, reaching upward one more time, his mud caked fingers clawing the air, attempting to grip Carter’s Nike vapor jet gloved hands, while sweat dripped down zack’s flapping velcro glove strap.
The lift resumed and Zach eventually began to rise. But about halfway up, Zach started to slip. His gloves, so filled with his sweat and the strap not secured tightly, prohibited his already sore hands from attaining a proper grip, feeling his hand swishing around in his hot, saturated gloves, he tried to quickly respond by gripping carters arm with his left hand but without his left arm supporting the rest of his weight, zack’s sweat soaked gloves became overloaded and his hand swiftly slid out of them. He was sent crashing back onto the ground, his right hand still extended outward, fingers visibly pruned from wearing his football gloves for so long.
“…ugh…m my …g gloves…ugh” he groaned, raising his last remaining gloved hand up to his eyes, feeling the warm slippery sweat between his fingers as he flexed his raw hand inside. His wrists and hands a lighter tone than his slicked arms in comparison, sporting the “football glove tan” indicating the long durations spent wearing these mostly impervious, heat trapping gloves during hot, humid conditions.
Carter couldn’t react quick enough to compensate for the sudden loss of weight and stumbled back, his perplexed eyes trained on Zack’s soggy glove still held in his right hand. A stream of thick brown sweat immediately streamed from inside of zac’s gloves onto the ground, hydrating the dust below into mud. holding up his own sweat filled gloved hand, He looked down at them as they dripped the brown stinking fluid, the smell immediately exuded out of them. The reek of months old stale sweat combined with dirt and grime was a scent familiar amongst all football players. Zac wore Cutters rev pro gloves and much like his, they were dingy and beaten, with the threads fraying from the palm and fingers and rips by the wrist discolored from the sweat and dirt. Months of long practice sessions, brutal tackles, hard catching passes and drills in the summer sun, rain, and humidity turned their once white football gloves brown and torn, the smell lasting on their hands for hours, sometimes days after being worn. he lazily loosened his grip and zac’s sweat drenched glove fell to the dirt beneath.
Prepared to re-engage he took one step forward, but his legs, now too exhausted, buckled. He staggered forward one more step. this previous exertion drained him of his last strength, now powerless, his shoulders went limp, his body trying to resist the fall but his waning, precious energy, now depleted and no longer under command, he dramatically began to collapse to his knees, arms limply dangled, gloved hands wavered below his waist. Torn knees struck the ground:
“…ugh….soo… t tired…ugh” he groaned as his feet and sneakers flexed in extension in the dirt.
his muscled body reacting to the shudder of the sudden arrest in the collapse like a plated jello mold being dropped onto a table, his helmeted head slung backward and around, limply swinging side to side, the chinstrap swinging freely. his fatigued torso swaying back and forth. knowing he was in trouble he had enough cognizance to place his arms forward, he felt his failing legs give out at his hips, his vision blurred.
Carter, once the star of the team, the town homecoming king, the captain of his school’s prized receivers, fell un-conscience. his twitching muscles, strained beyond their amazing capacity now failing from his ordeal. only able to support himself momentarily while on his knees. his final string of power eventually went out of his throbbing muscles as our male specimen sunk limp entirely and began falling forward once again, his thick body crashing into the dirt with a solid thud, hands sliding through the dirt as the kicked up dust caked his already filthy sweat drenched gloves and swollen vascular arms. his head, turned to the side impacted the ground following his still firm torso, his helmet bouncing partially off, his mouth guard disengaged, sending ropes of spit and blood laced drool slinging outward:
“…umphhhh..uhggggg..” he exhaled, as his once powerful legs kipped upward resulting from the momentum of his collapsed torso then fell back limply, his sneakers being the last of our teenage hero’s body to fall to their final place. Carter came to a rest in the prone position laid in the dust, now out of commission, his drenched crop top and torn white jersey rising with his unconscious breathing. His once white Adidas NMD sneakers he wore daily for the last year to class and home, already worn for the day previous up to his defeat tonight were now caked in brown field dirt darkened in areas where his sweat drenched feet permeated through as they twitched in the glow of the field lights. His arms laid outward to his sides as if flying, while his sweat filled gloved hands angled towards his cocked helmet still dripped with sweat through and around the silhouette where once a plastic Nike logo was glued to. The paint worn down at the finger tips from the hundreds of sting inflicting passes he’s caught, the stench of months of stale sweat built up, marinating his pruned fingers within. images of his writhing team mates in the reflection of his cracked and mud smeared helmet reflective visor. our teenage star, the last to withstand coach’s psychotic encounter outlasted his fellow receivers, but now succumbed to the draining they endured moments before his. he now lay vulnerably in the steamy humid field, utterly destroyed, his glimmering strength and power undone, no longer able to lead his fellow receivers, his powerful jock body now owned by coach’s unrelenting thrashing.
all around him, our 6 defeated jocks resumed with their recovery. one by one they regained what little energy they could. Similar to Carter’s efforts, they attempted to help each of their beaten team mates to their sneakered feet. each of them, with their sweat filled gloves, muscles obliterated, bruised torsos, and ripped jerseys recovered from their coach borne torment, Zack being the last to rise he stumbled towards Carter’s lifeless body, gesturing with his de gloved hand to neighboring kevin and cooper to help get him over their shoulders. Grunting and straining they eventually gathered our 6 foot 2 inch 199 pound teen jock star around their shoulders. Zack , Kevin, and Cooper all groaning under the additional strain of Carter’s massive weight plus their own maxed out bodies, started out slowly towards the locker room. Night fell hours ago, the school looked dark from where they began, the trek would be well over 300 yards away, their journey seemed to be endless, as if this was coach’s last torment to them, knowing their demise would be the farthest away from the locker rooms.
Carter’s legs dragged behind Zack’s and the rest as they struggled back towards the school. Zack, still drained from the hours long drill session stumbled through the dust and mud below. His nike air force one mids dragged their heels under the strain of his own overused muscles and carter’s limp weight, the leather velcro straps undone by the intensity of his sprints flapped against the mud stained, scratched leather upper. Grown flaccid from sweat they were no longer stiff and discontinued providing ankle support. his cushioned calf high Nike elite socks no longer capable of absorbing sweat any longer soaked into their interiors, now absorbing into the leather and insoles causing them to squeak with his every step, sweat expressing through the perforations and beat up leather in and around their creased toe boxes with every extension of zack’s tired sweat drenched feet with the dirt and grime accumulating over their once white crisp colorways. our home grown heroes’ trek continued, carrying Carter’s battered body through the mud soon undid what little strength they were capable of recovering just at the moment they reached the locker room doors.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/eirjlg/exhausted_defeated_football_jocks_dominated