copyright © 2002
Written for Rubbercody
The energy in the air was incredible. We were undefeated, we were lovers, we were dressed in rubber-coated uniforms. It was Homecoming, and the air in the locker room bristled with building electricity. The team gathered around to hear a few words from Christian, as was our new tradition. But instead, Christian waved me over and had me take my place standing at his side.
"I thought it would be appropriate if tonight we heard a few words of inspiration from our team captain", Christian said, patting me on the shoulder and then stepping aside.
The room was deathly quiet, or so it seemed to me, who was suddenly on the spot. I was totally unprepared for this, as Christian had not bothered to tell me about it. I looked to him with worried eyes.
"Just speak from the heart, captain", he said.
I gulped. I didn't know how else to speak. I looked over to Tad, who returned an expression of such confidence that I felt my stomach settle and my nerves steady. And I began to talk.
"Gentlemen", I said, adopting Christian's favorite mode of address, "tonight is a big night. Homecoming is one of the biggest nights of the year for football players." The start seemed lame, but then a thought occurred to me. I went with it. "But football isn't the only thing we do here at school. And I don't know about you, but I for one have been getting a whole new appreciation for some of the things we study at school thanks to what we've been learning in football. Like history for instance. I have a whole new respect for famous dead guys like Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, and Richard the Lion-Hearted." I paused for effect. "All of whom were gay, and all of whom knew how to kick major ass."
That got a ripple of approving laughter from the team, who now knew where I was going with this. Christian smiled. I glanced at Tad, who was grinning like an idiot. He inclined his head slightly towards me and raised his eyebrows. Go on.
"The Greeks", I continued, hoping I got this next part right, "encouraged homosexuality amongst their warriors, as it was widely thought that a soldier would fight more valiantly on the field of battle to protect and defend his lover. It was a strategy that worked." All around the room, boyfriends reached over to take each other's hands and exchange meaningful looks. "And I don't think there was ever any ancient squad that fought with the same devotion for one another that we do." I locked eyes with Tad for the briefest moment, and his expression encouraged me to go on.
I walked up and down the room, doing my best to make eye contact with every player. "Tonight we go up against the Dynamos. Like us, they're undefeated this year. The folks in the stands are expecting one helluva game tonight. Two teams reenacting a clash of the titans, each fighting with all they've got, exhausting themselves as they hold nothing back, battling against a foe so much their equal that one side will barely make it to a narrow victory, the other left to limp away in defeat."
I stopped walking and placed my hands on my hips. "Well, I hate to disappoint all those fans, but that is so not gonna happen. We are gonna defeat the Dynamos by such a huge margin it isn't even funny. The Dynamos are about to be pounded flat by the Vulcans!"
I raised my fists in anticipation of our victory and the whole team roared. We were all still roaring when we burst from the locker room and took the field.
The Dynamos really were the team to beat. And they put up an incredibly good fight. But it wasn't good enough. We stood victorious after the final buzzer, sweating, panting, aching, as the scoreboard glowed with the pronouncement, HOME: 103 VISITORS: 24
Coach Gareth was back on the sidelines, the picture of perfect health. The entire team lined up before him, remove dour helmets and bowed slightly in his direction. This one was for you, coach. He didn't linger afterward to say anything. He didn't want anyone to see the tears.
Our time in the showers was more rapid than usual. We had to get cleaned up fast to join the rest of the school in the cafeteria for our big Homecoming dance. We left the locker room refreshed and looking sharp in our suits and ties, a look that was by no means new to us at this point.
We walked through the standard post-Homecoming fare, with the exception that there was a lot more enthusiasm and congratulatory chatter at the podium by grateful teachers and admiring students. We did our best to look bashful and uncomfortable with all the attention and praise, as we stood together with beautiful cheerleaders and other gorgeous girls on our arms. Looking uncomfortable about that last part came easily enough.
We had fun enough at the dance, which didn't last as long as the game had. And there were plenty of moments during fast dances in which a number of guys from the team formed a circle and danced together. The girls thought it was cute. We thought it was hot.
Even after the dance, we were all so pumped we could hardly think. The game, the win, the celebrating, it was all so overwhelming, so intoxicating. We had no idea the evening had only begun.
Assistant Coach Haydensen instructed us all to meet in the locker room at the end of the evening's festivities. We were all good with that. Lots of us wanted to be able to thank our boyfriends properly away from prying eyes, to openly be together as the team of rubberboys we had become. I was barely able to contain myself as I watched Tad dance with "his girl" as I danced with mine. We always found a way to slow-dance our partners close by, so we could eye each other over our dates' shoulders. And of course, all us guys were perfect gentlemen with the ladies, seeing to it they all got home early, and safely, making no rude advances upon them. Their dads all loved it, even if the girls were a bit confused by it all.
So here we were in the locker room, dressed up in suits and ties, looking sharp as hell, wondering what the a.c. had in mind for us.
Christian walked in, slapping us on the back, giving congratulations all around, shaking hands, hugging, saying how proud he was of all of us. We all cheered, fists in the air, roars of triumph echoing off the walls.
Christian waved us quiet, and with his arms still raised, said, "And if I recall correctly, gentlemen--"
"Rubberboys!", called Randolph, which brought a laugh from the group. Zerk gave Randy the thumbs-up.
Christian smiled. "--if I recall correctly, gentlemen rubberboys, I promised you a surprise treat if we won this Homecoming game. And if you didn't pick up on it, we sure as hell won it!!" The group went wild with cries of "Yeah!!" and high-fives everywhere.
Christian held up a hand, and we all fell silent. He stared at us for a moment, then said, "Strip. I'll go get your reward."
Back at football camp, such a ridiculous request would've been met with stares of disbelief and snide remarks. But the Master had spoken, and that was all we needed. The guys yanked open their team lockers and starting peeling off ties, shirts, dress shoes, pants. There was a cascading noise of shoes banging off the back of locker interiors, and fancy clothes flapping into heaps on top of them. In less than two minutes, the whole team of teenage football players, all in extraordinary physical shape, stood stark naked before their lockers, practically standing at attention.
Tad slipped his hand into mine, our fingers intertwining. I smiled brightly at my boy, and he raised our clenched hands and kissed the back of my hand. His eyes danced, and I just took in how beautiful he was.
"Here we go, boys! Just for you!" Christian was pushing a laundry cart past us, full to bursting with oversized white shirt boxes. He was tossing them out, one at a time, to each team member. "Hart. Randolph. Bradley. Jameson, pass this over to Snyder. Here's yours, Jameson."
Soon, we all stood there holding identical white boxes. "What are they?", asked Cartes.
"Why don't you open them and find out?", said Christian with a smile. He then turned and pushed the empty cart out of the room. "See you all in the gym. You have five minutes, men,"
We ripped open the boxes like kids at Christmastime. I tore aside the layer of tissue paper to behold a thing of beauty. "Oohhhh...", I moaned softly. My response was echoed throughout the room to one degree or another by every player.
I gingerly pulled out a stunning, shining new rubber bodysuit, gleaming from the overhead lights, created with our school colors. The shoulders were bright royal blue, with matching broad stripes running down the pantlegs. The chest, back, and inside of the legs were a pristine gold. Each player's new rubber sweats came complete with his own number splashed proudly across the chest, and his name across the back. The pantlegs ended in attached tall boots, as pristine a gold as the tunic, with piping, soles, and toecaps of brilliant blue. I felt the smooth material between my fingers, to find that it moved easily back and forth at the slightest touch. It was cool and dry on the outside, but almost slippery moist on the inside.
Tad looked over at me, eyes wide and mouth agape. "Dude, the insides of these things are treated with lube or something!"
From out in the gym, we heard, "Four minutes and counting!"
There was a flutter of commotion as we all hurried to yank on our new suits. A moment of confusion ensued, as the suits had no zippers. Then Zerkowitz, easily the biggest of us, tugged at his tunic collar, which stretched wide under his meaty hands, and he stepped one leg in, then the next. The rest of us caught on fast. We proceeded to pull on our individual suits the same way. They slipped on in seconds, and once there, clung to our bodies like an extension of our own skin. The stretched-out collars quickly shrank back to fit snugly around our necks. Likewise, the sleeve cuffs hugged tight to our wrists after our hands pushed through. The fit was incredible, like nothing I've ever experienced. The looks of ecstasy from around the room showed I was not alone.
Every player gasped, moaned, or shivered at the indescribably sensual feel of our new suits. A few players leaned on their boyfriends, who hugged for support, the additional contact sparking more spasms of pleasure as they touched. For a moment or two, all that could be heard in the locker room were the soft sounds made by very contented teenage boys.
"Twenty seconds, men!" This from the a.c., out in the gym.
Zerkowitz looked up in awe, "Holy shit, man, there's more!"
I don't think I've ever seen us run out to the gym any faster than we did then.
Assistant Coach Haydensen was smiling like a proud papa when we poured into the gym, all clad in our new brightly-colored suits. The boys bombarded him with thank-yous, hugs, and handshakes as we crowded around him. He accepted them all graciously, then ushered us back, with another command.
"Form a circle."
We did. In a heartbeat, the entire team formed a large circle around the a.c., with him in the center. He gestured for us to draw closer to him until the circle was pretty tight, and we were all shoulder-to-shoulder. "Take hold of each other's hands.", he said. Again, we did. Guys who weeks ago would have shuddered at the thought of holding another guy's hand, all reached over easily and took the hand of the boy on either side of him without hesitation. Each man stood beside his boyfriend, with another close buddy on his other side. So, instead of just holding hands limply, each boy held to his partners affectionately, many giving the hand they held a gentle squeeze.
Christian's voice grew softer. "You are a very special group, men. You're special to me, you're special to each other. You've been able to connect with one another in a way I doubt that any high school athletic team has ever connected before, and it shows on the field. Don't think for a second that I don't know what kind of work you've put in, what kind of sacrifices you've made. And I want you to know how much I appreciate it, how grateful I am to you."
Several of us shuffled our feet, a bit embarrassed at Christian's honest praise. A few others looked at the floor, blushing.
"You stand now in the first part of your reward for all your hard work. I take it you like your new suits." There was eager agreement all around. "Well, these suits are specially designed for use as recognition after your hard-won victories. After we're done using them tonight, they get put away under my care. Until your next win, that is."
"Damn", muttered Cartes, "strong motivation to keep winning." A few guys snickered in agreement.
Christian went on. "You may have already noticed that these suits are of special design. They have no zippers that can come loose or undone." I hadn't noticed that that had ever been a problem with our regular sweats, but I didn't say anything. "The boots are attached to the pantlegs, making the suits that much sleeker and form-fitting. The interiors have been specially treated to make putting them on fairly easy. And, there is an additional feature you probably haven't noticed."
We all looked at each other, wondering what we could have missed.
"Notice that in the front of your suits, centered just below the waist, there's a small tab." And he pointed to himself, just below his belt buckle. "Here."
We all looked down, and sure enough, there was a tiny gold tab, that blended right in with the rest of the suit so well it was no wonder we missed it. "Now, each of you, please take your left hand, and place it around the shoulder of the player next to you." Slowly, we did so. We moved a bit uncertainly, not because draping our arms around each other made us uncomfortable, but because we didn't know where this was going. In a moment, every boy had one hand hanging free and the other around another boy's shoulder.
"Now with your free hand", Christian explained", reach over to the team member on your right and grasp ahold of the tab on his new suit. Go ahead." There were a few snorts of laughter and lots of grins, but we did as we were told. Boyfriends looked over at each other, somewhat giddy at the way this game was starting out. Tad smiled at me as I held the tab of his suit, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. Powers, who was remarkably cute, had his hand on the tab of my suit. The pattern was repeated over and over again, all the way around our tight circle of rubberboys.
When everybody was ready, Christian turned slowly around, making sure that everyone was in position. The room was deathly quiet. No one wanted to miss the next instruction. "Now, men, listen carefully", we were told. "Holding the tab firmly, pull it forward and down in one fluid movement. Don't yank it hard outward, just give it a firm tug down."
Most of us looked at each other awkwardly, with a kind of "you go first" look in our eyes. Christian anticipated this, saying "On three, gentlemen. One...two...three!" At that we all gave the tab we held a firm tug. There was a sound like an air-fresh packaging seal breaking, multiplied a few dozen times over. I, and just about every other guy on the team gasped.
In my hand, I held an oblong section of tad's rubber suit. It was a perfectly clean cut, along a sleek perforation, with a zip-lock style seam all along the edge. Powers, to my left, held the removable section from my suit, and so on down the line, around the room.
I looked down.
The piece that had come free from my suit exposed an area that began just above my penis, and ran down between my legs, up around the back to just above the crack in my rear. "Whoooooaaaa..." I moaned, quietly.
The whole team now stood exposed. Head-to-toe in rubber, but with everything hangin' out, all the same. Most of us had already sprung erections, the rest were following fast. Christian started making rounds around the circle with a plastic basket. "Don't break the circle, please, gentlemen", he said, seeing some of the guys about to leg go of their neighbor's shoulder. "I have something for you in exchange for your codpiece/drop seat flap. When I come up to you with the basket, simply drop the flap into the basket, and hold out your hand to me, palm up."
We were all too supercharged with hormones and adrenaline at this point to question anything. We did as we were asked. Christian was accepting the rubber suit flaps, and then pouring some kind of...shampoo or something all over each guy's hand.
When he came to me, I paused only a second, looking over at Powers to try to discern what the gooey substance was. Christian nodded at the basket, and I tossed in my flap (Tad's, really), and held out my palm. Our beloved a.c. proceeded to pour a large amount of the liquidy stuff all over my open hand. Peering into the basket, it looked like he was going through bottles of the stuff on us. The substance was cool to the touch, and while I expected it to spill over the sides of my hand and onto the gym floor, it clung to my skin just enough to prevent that. Instead, it piled up into a small mound in my hand.
As Christian moved over one to Tad, I brought my hand to my nose and sniffed it. It smelled nice. Almost like a fruit shampoo. But this was clearly not shampoo. Christian saw what I was doing and announced to the group, "Please refrain from touching what I've given you until everyone has theirs, men." I immediately dropped my hand back down to my waist. Across the circle, Cartes was turning his hand upside down and jerking it up and down slightly, to see if the goop would dislodge from his palm. It didn't.
When everyone had their palms "greased" (for lack of a better term), Christian set down his basket full of suit flaps and empty plastic bottles. "Now, as far as I can tell, most of you men are getting pretty worked up, just standing here." His answer came in a ring of mute nods, as we silently agreed that we had all pretty much gotten as hard as rocks.
"So what I'd like you to do next", Christian said slowly, "is to gently reach over to the erection of the boy to your immediate right, and wrap your fingers around it. Easy now, gentlemen."
We moved very slowly, like robots. Most of us kept our heads stationary and only watched the progress of our hands with our eyes. I carefully reached over and grasped Tad's penis in my hand. At the same time, Powers' hand came over from my left and began to hold my own member. The experience was incredible.
As I delicately clutched my boyfriend's dick, my own was being touched by another hand in the same way by someone else. The wet, sweet-smelling gelatinous lubricant I'd had spread on my hand oozed between my fingers and slid all around Tad's erection. As I slowly, lovingly stroked his stiff rod, I could feel the gel work its way all around his shaft, lathering slightly, giving off a stronger perfume. There seemed to be no end to the stuff. The more I worked it in, the more it spread, covering Tad's nether regions in a thick, soothing glaze.
Simultaneously, Powers was working his own gel into my penis. The feeling was intoxicating. There was something else about the cool, comforting feel of the thick substance being applied under the gentle fingers of my teammate. Something...numbing, in a way. As I continued to stroke Tad, as Powers continued to stroke me (as everyone continued to stroke everyone else on the team), my arousal grew to an almost fever pitch. I was so hard, I was so turned on. My fingers dug a bit into Powers' shoulder as I tried to steady myself.
"Don't let go of the shoulder of your teammate", Christian reminded us, as he walked around the inside of our circle. We all returned slight, dazed nods in response.
I could feel beautiful Tad's manhood within my hand, yet I could feel Power's hand around my own. Stroking, soothing, caressing. My toes curled inside my rubber boots and I was struck with a sensation of the slick rubber interior of my suit. Tad gasped to my right, clutching my shoulder as he swayed a bit. The pressure of his hand on my shoulder, pressed across my back sent another thrill through me, feeling the rubber stretched tight all over my body--save for one spot, which was covered by another's fingers. I closed my eyes and moaned softly, one voice in a chorus of ecstatic, lower-register groans.
I wanted to cum. I needed desperately to reach orgasm. But there was something in the gel, something seeping into our skin that prevented it. It was not time yet. But if not now, when? My fingers began to slow their pumping motions as the lather built so that it covered most of my hand and obscured Tad's penis. I was awash with the erotic sensations pouring over and arcing through every inch of my body, and it was hard to maintain my grasp.
"Hang on now, men, don't stop pumping just yet", Christian cautioned us. I was apparently not the only one growing weary.
I have no idea how long we remained that way. Standing clad in freshly-made rubber suits. Feeling the slick interior coating hugging our bodies as our fellow teammates masturbated us with agonizing slowness, keeping us hovering indefinitely on the edge of orgasm.
Then I heard a quiet whisper in my ear. "Cody. Cody, it's your turn, Champ." It was Christian. He had his hands on my shoulders, and was trying to move me sideways. Powers' hand was gone from my penis, which was still painfully erect. "Like this, buddy", Christian said, guiding my lathered hand forward as he turned me a bit more to the right. He placed my hand on the exposed rear of Tad. "Up and down, Cody. Just coat the area, there."
"...yessir...", I mumbled as I used my hand like a paintbrush to coat Tad's behind with the sweet lubricant. As I did this, I soon felt a hand I presume to be Powers', doing the same to my own ass. Languidly, I turned my head slightly to look at the team. We were still in a circle, but now we were arranged front-to-back, each player lubricating the behind of the teammate in front of him.
After another minute or so, Christian said, "Okay, men. You may enter when I say the word." I sidled right up to Tad, the head of my cock brushing against his ass, both rich with gobs of lubricant. At the same time, I could feel Powers' dick against my own behind. I was only dimly aware of what we were doing. I felt so tired...so good...so peaceful and happy...so incredibly hot...to be here with these wonderful guys, everyone in rubber...it was a dream come true.
"Now."
The word was given, and my reverie broken. I slid myself into my beloved Tad just as Powers slid inside me. All around the circle, every single man on the team was entered from behind by another player. The lubricant had done its job, and we slid in with virtually no effort. The sensation of purest, physical joy was beyond imagining. Backs arched, heads popped up, fingers dug into rubber-covered shoulders. My entire body tensed, every muscle frozen with unearthly delight as I felt myself inside the young man I loved, and another inside me. I rubbed my cheek against the taut rubber encasing Tad's back, and heard him whimper with pleasure.
Slowly, steadily, the entire circle began to thrust. First one, then two, then a handful more. Soon, every man on the team was pumping his hips forward into a friend, a teammate, or someone he loved. The grinding was like a perpetual motion machine, once we'd started, we couldn't stop without being acted upon by some other force. We didn't have long to wait for it.
Whether it was in unison or more like a domino effect, I have no idea. But we came. Very close--frighteningly close--to the same time, we reached orgasm. At least, I know Powers and I did.
I fired my load into Tad, my body instantly stiff as though my bones had been replaced by steel rods. My arms, legs, and back locked in place and my penis shot stream after stream into my lover. Behind me, Powers let loose with a similar burst. I could feel him cumming inside me, his seed filling me. My body began to shudder, my eyes clenched tightly shut, my mouth locked open with rasping breaths.
The orgasm could have lasted an hour for all I know. But it was longer than any I had ever experienced in my life up to that point, I do know. Blast after blast shot forth from me and into Tad, a physical avatar of my affection, now forever a part of him. I slid in and out of him repeatedly, each powerful burst yanking me forward again, going deep inside him as I felt myself entered and reentered the same way. I became fearful that I would shut down from an inability to process so much pleasure, such immeasurable joy.
Finally, with a crippling shudder, it was over. I gasped loudly and fell forward onto Tad's back, as I cried out, "Oh God, Tad, I LOVE you!!" As soon as I rested upon Tad's back, still connected to him, I felt ashamed at my outburst. That is, until my head cleared enough to make out the sounds all around me.
"I love you so much, Mikey. God, I do." "Love you, Brent. Always, man." "Never leave you, Josh. You're my everything." "Love you with all my heart, Andy. With all my heart, dude." Everyone was expressing the same sentiment. In fact, it was unlikely that anyone had even heard my outburst. Or cared, if they had. I leaned forward as best I could and gently kissed Tad on the neck. He was crying softly. "I love you too, Cody. God, I love you too, man. I love you."
I felt gentle hands stroking my back and I realized it was Powers. "That was awesome, Cody. You're the best, man. Shit, you are the fuckin' best."
We all clung to one another, exhausted and spent, legs shaking, breath coming in ragged gasps. The most well-connected high school athletic team in the state.
"I congratulate you again on tonight's win", said Christian. "Carefully now, dislodge yourself from your teammates, and when you're ready, hand in your postgame victory suits and get on home. If you need a ride, we can certainly arrange one. And again, boys, congratulations."
It took several minutes. It was as if we were all glued together. But one at a time, bit by bit, we slowly separated ourselves. Some boys flopped right down on the floor and began kissing each other affectionately. Others just clung to each other, some smiling and hugging, others weeping softly while repeatedly professing their love. Once Powers pulled out of me, I slowly and carefully dislodged from Tad. It was all he could do to stand up, so I supported him and walked him slowly to the showers. As we made our way across the gym, he kissed me on the side of the head. Quietly, he spoke my name.
Never in my life had I ever felt anything to equal that night. And I knew without a doubt that I never would.
The football team had achieved celebrity status at the high school. It was difficult for any of us to make our way down the hallways without getting applause and whistles from the other students, and more than a handful of teachers. Kids would opt to offer us the better seats in the cafeteria, and many times just let us cut to the front of the line. Each of us had gotten used to pats on the back (literally) every time we walked into a classroom. And the reason for our newfound notoriety was obvious.
This year's Vulcan Varsity had shattered an ongoing losing streak that had made our school a laughing stock in the community. Now our stands were packed with every game, ticket sales were making serious money for the school, and we were selling team sweatshirts, T-shirts, pennants, and even team photographs by the ton. All the local deejays and game announcers were left to scramble for new material since their favorite object of ridicule was now leaving all prior champions in the dust.
We did our best not to get swelled heads, but it wasn't easy. One of the things we focused on was how the girls were acting around us now. Groups of young ladies would titter and nearly swoon as we passed by their lockers. One drop-dead gorgeous gal from the cheerleading squad practically leapt across the hall to throw her arms around Zerk and give him a huge kiss after a weekend win. Lance once opened his locker to have a small pile of love notes and makeshift valentines tumble out at his feet. Bashful Timmy found his own hall locker had been adorned with a large sticker bearing the legend, "Caution! Extremely HOT Babe Uses This Locker!" It was like that for all of us.
Through it all, we smiled and played the part of gentlemen, knowing that what we really wanted was to share kisses, pass love notes, and post playful stickers about our affections with each other rather than the girls. We pulled together to keep our genuine feelings hidden from the rest of the school. Sometimes it was tough, but it helped remind us that nothing worthwhile comes without a price.
One benefit was the way all of us on the team were dressing now. Even if you didn't know the team's roster, you could still pick out a Vulcan football player from a mile away. We all dressed slicker than shit.
The entire team coordinated their clothes so that whether we wore dress shirts and ties or as I preferred, really sharp western wear, our colors were those of our team. On game days, we all had taken to wearing dress shoes, ties, and blazers that came complete with the school emblem on the left breast. We were winners, and that was exactly what we looked like.
What most people didn't know when they saw us winners trod the halls, was that beneath our snazzy attire was a very enticing pair of rubber boxers. Or in some cases, boxer briefs. All shiny, black, and smooth. And by the end of each school day, as often as not, just a little sticky. Tad had even gone so far as to give me a pair of rubber sheath shorts as a present, which were well past sticky by the end of the day, let me tell you.
In any case, we had definitely entered into the realm of favorite sons. For a group of former athletic pariahs, that's a heady experience. We shunned favors from teachers in the form of waived tests and from shopkeepers in the form of complimentary merchandise. We always did so with a smile and a thank-you, but with the clear indication that to take such gifts would be unbefitting a champion. That's what Christian told us. And we just happened to agree with him.
With each new win, we added more numbers to our fan club. It seemed that everyone loved us. Well, almost everyone.
Like every school, we had our share of troublemakers. We had our goths, grungers, and burnouts. The pierced and leather-clad clusters who preferred to treat us to hisses and cat calls as we passed them in the hall. Their sneers of "football faggots" were meant to piss us off, no doubt, but usually resulted in provoking nothing more than stifled laughter, which simply aggravated them more.
As with the offered favors, we made a collective decision not to rise to the teasing remarks of the bad boys. And our resolve worked, too. Until they found a way to get us to respond.
Tad and I heard the scuffle around the corner as we made our way to open study hall. Tad sprinted ahead of me to find a sight that was becoming painfully familiar. A scruffy thug and his minions was tormenting one of the scrawny bookish geek kids. The tall kid who was apparently the leader leered at the underweight bespectacled boy who was pinned to the lockers under the wiry arms of two other scuzzbags. The floor was littered with books and folders that were no doubt dropped by the bookworm.
Tad was on them in an instant. He easily jerked the tall kid aside by the shoulder. "One side, jerk." And then grasped the wrists of the two others in an unyielding pincer grip. The two squealed their discomfort as they released the geeky kid. I stepped in quickly to pull the smaller kid out.
Tad let go of the other two and looked at them with disdain. "What the hell is the matter with you assholes?" Tad grabbed the tall kid by the collar and held him nose to nose. "you see someone who looks different than you and think it's open season, is that it?"
The tall kid, unlike his friends, didn't seem the least bit frightened. He looked hungry for the confrontation. "You should know all about what it's like to be different", he sneered. "Wouldn't ya, fag??"
Tad's eyes widened and the other two kids laughed at him. I cleared my throat to gain Tad's attention. Tad looked at me and I subtly shook my head. Don't say anything, man. It's just the best jibe he could think of. He doesn't know.
Tad released the kid and spat, "I'm watchin' you, man."
The kid straightened his vest, commenting, "Good. Someone should be. Better viewing than your brainless smash-face games, anyway." That clarified things for me, right there. He needed attention, yearned for it. He was used to getting it from being a rebel, from dressing wild. But now there was so much clamor for the winning team that he could've come to school in a pink sequined ball gown and no one would've cared less.
Tad backed away, pointing an admonishing finger at the kid to emphasize his disapproval. The bookish kid was gathering up his books and folders, and I gently nudged him to hurry along so we could escort him safely away. He swatted my hand away. Hey, you're welcome, kid.
As we turned to go, the trio of thugs laughed more devilishly. I knew why in a moment. Tad plummeted to land face-down on the floor. The tall kid had tripped him. I dropped down to one knee to see if my boyfriend was alright, and Tad waved me away, indicating he was okay.
"Tad Carr, right?", the tall kid said. It was a statement, not a question. "Guess everyone knows who you are, big-time faggot football player. You know who I am, jockstrap?" I did.
His name was Cree. Or at least, that was what he was known as. Whether this was a truncated version of his first or last name was unknown. What was known was that he was a complete jerk.
Tad looked up from the hallway floor where he had fallen, his face going red. Placing his large palms flat against the polished floor, Tad pushed himself back to his feet easily. he then stood eye-to-eye with Cree.
Cree was just about Tad's height, although that was hard to tell for sure due to Cree's oversized steel-toed engineer's boots which made him appear taller. Either way, Tad's considerable height was not intimidating Cree here. Cree was the type who didn't intimidate easily. He wore tight jeans that looked as if they'd been dragged behind a dump truck for about a week. Chains that served no purpose other than to look threatening hung from his pockets in slack loops. He had on a leather vest, which he always wore, with no shirt underneath. His wrists were wrapped in tight leather bands secured with scratched buckles, and a silver cross hung from his neck. The cross might have indicated some hope for the guy, if not for the laughing skull embedded in the center. Cree's hair was jet black and spiked haphazardly into a jagged, tall mountain range of follicles, complete with snowy peaks of white dye. The hair would have been somewhat frightening on its own, but next to the multiple earrings (most too heavy for Cree's lobes), eyebrow ring, and tongue bolt, the hair seemed almost reserved.
"You so don't want a fight with me", Tad warned in a level voice.
"Oh, I think that's exactly what I want. Think you can take me, football fag?" Cree's eyes actually twinkled. And I realized that was precisely what Cree wanted. Tad could in all likelihood mop up the floor with him, although Cree would no doubt make use of his decorative chains and who knew what other surprises he had hidden on his person. Tad would no doubt get thrown off the team for the altercation. An indelible blotch on our team's otherwise spotless record for the year. And Cree would get the much-wanted notoriety for causing it.
I touched Tad's shoulder. "Let it go, man. Don't rise to it. He's not worth it."
Tad and I backed away, pushing the scrawny kid along behind us. Cree let out a wheezing hyena laugh, bearing a cold, triangular false smile that held no humor. The other two made chicken clucking noises. Tad's face was almost purple with anger, but he held it together. We backed around the corner and then picked up the pace to put some distance between the three of us and the three of them.
Once we were a ways away, Tad looked at the kid we'd escorted to safety. He was short, with unkempt curly that fell everywhere, which he wore too long in the back and over his ears, making him look effeminate when seen from any side but the front. Tad recognized him before I did.
"Kenny, isn't it?"
The kid spun around to face us. "Kenneth! What is it with you jocks and nicknames?? An extra syllable too much for you to remember?"
"Geez, kid, lighten up. I was only wondering if you were okay. They didn't hurt you, did they?"
"Like you care!" His voice was deeper than I would have expected, especially given his thick glasses and pimply complexion. "You made your rescue, you did your good deed, now run off and tell everybody how wonderful you are so you can get more publicity, so 'cause I'm sure as hell not gonna do it!"
He stomped off, stuffing his stack of books and papers under one arm in what he no doubt thought was a dramatic fashion, even though it caused a couple of his papers to flutter to the floor behind him. He left without retrieving them. His slight backwards glance gave me the impression he wanted to drop them.
Tad called after him. "Hey, it was our pleasure, fella. Glad to help!"
I picked up the pages to see they were photocopies of a Sociology paper. I read the title. "How School Athletics Have Irreparably Undermined Academia". Tad rolled his eyes. I shrugged. "Guess you can't please everybody."
The remainder of the game season passed without incident. Unless, like me, you prefer to think of significantly kicking every team's ass as a major incident. Our final game was won with our usual wide margin, making it our first undefeated year ever. And though there was no big dance or other commemorative event after the game, we were all flying high just the same.
We agreed to meet with parents, family, and friends for dinners and get-togethers following, as long as they understood there was still something we had to do at the school first. We agreed to meet them within two hours. Of course, Christian had brought out our seamless blue and gold rubber uniforms. As on Homecoming night, we formed our circle and removed our front flaps. We lathered each other up with lube and soon entered each other in one final endless link of passion. We took our time and savored every thrust, every ache of pleasure. This was our last night together as the senior varsity Vulcans. We wanted to make it last.
Following the hour or so we spent interlocked in our lovemaking circle, we reattached our rubber flaps and made our way back into the locker room for a final word from Christian.
I called for a round of appreciation for our brilliant young assistant coach, which caused the room to erupt in thunderous applause, cheering and whistles. Guys from all around the room raced up to him to give Christian firm handshakes, slaps on the back, and even hugs. Christian looked a bit overwhelmed by it all, as if he wasn't sure how to take it.
I quieted everyone down by jumping atop one of the benches and waving my arms. "Hey! Hey! Let's simmer down, guys! Christian had something important he wanted to tell us on this last night, so I know we all wanna hear it!" The noise in the room settled down to a low rumble, and I gestured for Christian to take over and hopped off the bench.
Christian looked a bit unsteady, as he stood rubbing his palms together. "Uh, this is the part where I usually..." He paused. "Before, when I've helped coach other teams, I take this opportunity following the final game, to, ah..." He stopped again, looking at the floor. It was not like Christian to be at a loss for words. The guys started to look around at each other uneasily. Christian cleared his throat. "Well, gentlemen, it's as simple as this:" And he clapped his hands, twice quickly, then once more. CLAP-CLAP. CLAP.
Everyone in the room froze. Not just quieted down or looked on with greater attention. I mean they froze stiff. Anyone sitting rose to his feet. All leaning against walls of lockers stood up straight. Everyone, that is, but me and Tad. We looked around at the spectacle in stunned surprise. I realized now why Christian could always quiet the room simply by clapping, no matter how much noise we were making. The video viewings, the hypno powder, the reinforcements toward homosexuality--they were all elements of hypnotic conditioning. The clapping was a response signal. And hoo-boy, were the guys ever responding.
Christian stood atop a chair and clapped his hands once more and spread his arms wide. The entire team went down on one knee. Tad and I stayed standing, too amazed to do anything. Christian closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After a few more moments, he said very softly, "Rubberboys, who am I?"
One or two of the guys spoke up quietly. "...master..." Then another handful of responses came, louder, "Master...master..." Before long, the entire team was chanting in unison with growing emphasis, "Master! Master! Master! Master!" Tad and I stood with our jaws hanging open. What the fuck was going on??
Suddenly, Christian's face crumpled. He looked as if he was about to cry. He held out his hands again. "Stop." The chanting stop, every voice fell silent. "I--I can't do this", he said. "Not to you guys." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and said, "Stand." Everyone in the room stood up on command. Christian stepped down from the chair, choking back his tears. He clapped his hands again in a rapid rhythm. Two claps, then one, then three. Then he snapped both his fingers, and spoke one word. "Released."
Everyone in the room blinked his eyes and looked around in confusion. They had just been returned to their senses--and from that last statement, I'd guess permanently--but had no idea what had just happened, how, or why. Christian turned and moved quickly to his office. "Excuse me, men."
Zerk looked at me, his face a mask of confusion. "Code, what the hell just happened?"
"Christian got too choked up about how much we mean to him to say anything. He needed a second to pull himself together", Tad responded quickly.
Bradley stepped up to us, saying, "Geez, no shit?"
"Something like that", I said. "Give us a minute, would'ja?" I headed toward Christian's office, tapping Tad on the shoulder to urge him to come along.
I rapped lightly on Christian's office door and then stepped inside. "Christian? What's going on?"
Tad followed me in. "Coach, are you okay?"
Christian was weeping softly into his hands. "God, I'm so sorry boys. I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this. Not you." We had no idea what he was talking about.
"Deserve what, coach? What did you do?"
Christian snorted in sharply, trying to stifle a sob and only partly succeeding. "This", he said by way of explanation, waving a hand at the locker room beyond. "All of this. It's what I do. I take losing teams and I make them winners. In the process I make them all gay rubberboys for a while, too. And then at the end of the season--"
"You make them your gay rubberboys", I finished for him, the whole thing coming together for me now.
Tad scrunched his brow. "Your rubber slaves."
Christian nodded, tears streaming down his face. "It's my little personal reward. It's how I get off. To be serviced by a horde of cute rubber jocks. But you guys--you aren't like the others. I usually have to deal with teams that are disinterested, arrogant, or quarrelsome. You guys--" And he swallowed hard. "You guys tried so hard, you supported each other from the start. You loved the game so much, you would've gone right on losing just for the chance to play. I couldn't take advantage of you."
Tad stepped forward. "Why didn't Cody and I fall in line out there?"
"You've been off the powder too long. You're not as susceptible as the rest", he explained. He turned to me. "You were going to be awarded this, Cody." He produced a small metal box identical to the one which held Skeevo's collar. "As team MVP. You were such a strong leader, Cody. Through everything. The rubber suits, the other kids coming out, staying with the practices and endless running of strategies--and most of all, staying a gentleman when your newfound fame could've led you to conceit and worse. I'm proud of you, Cody."
Christian started to flip open the latch on the metal box. "Here, it's a special--"
I put my hand atop his, stopping him. "I know what it is." Christian looked at me askance. "I'm friends with Scott Skevowicsz", I explained. Christian nodded in understanding. I took the box and set it aside on the desk.
Christian lowered his head again. "I've totally taken advantage of you all. I overstepped myself out there. Maybe I overstepped myself this entire year."
"And maybe you transformed the school, too, Christian", Tad said. "Haven't you noticed how so many kids are proud to say they go to this school now? Haven't you seen how full the stands are at the games, how much revenue is coming in for the athletics department? People in town look at us differently now, too, because of the way we dress, the way we act."
I knelt down beside Christian's desk. "You have a tremendous ability that can actually help people, Christian. I mean, it helped us. And think about this: you could have left us all as zombie rubberboys aching to do your bidding, but you didn't. That has to be worth something, right there."
Christian rubbed one eye dry. "I guess."
Tad commented, "It's just too bad all this help will end with us. Damn near all of the team graduates this year. No more rubberboys."
Which reminded me... "Christian", I asked, "how many of the guys will end up staying gay?"
"Less than you need concern yourself about", he said. And he patted my arm as he rose, "And more than you might think."
Tad and I escorted Christian out of the office, where he apologized for his over-emotional response to our final game and offered to take us all out for pizza. We cleaned up quickly and headed for the door, many boys making phone calls to friends and parents either to cancel on them or invite them to meet us there.
"The rest of the year will seem kind of down hill from here", I observed.
"Especially with all the aggressive punk burnouts and whiny geeks who never did warm to the new winning team", Tad added.
Christian paused as he hit the lights and pulled on his jacket. "Is that right?"
"Ohhh, yeah", I concurred. "For all the good we did--and by we I mean you, too--some kids are just determined not to get in the flow of things, even when they can see it's a vast improvement. Christian simply nodded his head, looking thoughtful.
And while the remainder of the school year did lack the fire and excitement of football season, I did notice a steady decline in harassment from Cree and his flunkies and less need to rescue the nerds like Kenneth. Or maybe I just wasn't paying that close of attention anymore.
It was our last day of school, and most of the team that was still around (some having already departed for college or summer trips) had been called to the gym by Christian for some unspecified reason. Tad and I arrived together to find Bradley and Randolph, Zerk and Timmy, and most of the others either already there or just coming behind us.
"So what's this all about?", Zerk asked no one in particular. "We already turned in all our uniforms and rubber gear, so what's left?" He was met by a silent chorus of shrugs and puzzled looks. I gestured to the gym entrance, since there was no way to find out other than to go inside and see.
As we walked in, I noticed a stand-alone marquee that had been propped up across the hall from the gym. It announced:
SENSITIVITY AND AWARENESS SEMINAR SESSIONS
Men's Group ONLY- Meetings daily in the Main Auditorium
Hosted by Mr. Haydensen
ALL male students welcome!
Attendance MANDITORY for those who received notices
"How the hell long has THAT been going on?", I wondered.
"Ya got me", Tad said. "I don't remember Christian ever mentioning it."
We walked into the empty gym to find Christian waiting for us, all smiles. "Gentlemen. Good to see that the post-season school year hasn't affected your keeping in shape."
"We usually get in at least one workout a day", Bradley said, putting an arm around Randy.
Randy grinned. "We like to exercise in pairs."
Zerk chimed right in. "What're we here for, anyway?"
"Straight to the point, I like that", Christian said. "Well, the simply fact of the matter is that I need some experienced ball players to help me organize the incoming team, get them prepared for this summer's football camp.
"What new players?", I asked. "I thought that was the big problem, what with most all of the team leaving this year. Who's left?"
"I'll show you", Christian said, and blew the whistle that hung around his neck. Into the gym from the locker room marched a line of trim students, of various shapes and sizes, all neatly groomed, all wearing skintight rubber bodysuits. They formed a line across the length of the gym and stood before Christian and us.
Their rubber uniforms were identical to ours, but that they were all a very deep, dark blue. From a distance, they could have been mistaken for black, but up close it was obvious as they caught the light that the rubber was almost a midnight blue.
I walked before the group of newcomers along with Tad, Zerk, and the rest. Where they had come from I had no idea. A sharp-looking team of fresh faces and bright eyes. I thought I knew every jock in the school, be they football players or otherwise, but this bunch I'd never seen before.
A tall boy on the far left caught my eye. He had a very smooth face, with a strong chin. His hair was cropped extremely short, just a fraction longer than a military crew cut, and its color was an appealing golden brown. He nodded his head slightly toward me in greeting, and I began to nod back. As I did, the corners of his mouth turned upward just a bit, in a slight grin that was not without warmth. I would swear his eye twinkled.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...
"Cree?!" I stood directly before him in stunned surprise. His face broke with that infamous triangular smile that, for the first time, looked totally genuine.
"The one and only", he said.
"What the hell happened to you?", I asked, my shock overriding my tact.
He glanced down at his rubber uniform, and raised one eyebrow. "Oh, I'd think that's obvious", he said, still smiling.
I grasped a bunch of my own hair while pointing a finger at Cree's head. "What happened to your--?"
Cree looked upward, as if he could actually see his own short hair atop his head. "Oh, that. This's my natural color. The spikes didn't go with my new suit."
"Looks good on yo--", I started to say, then stopped. My eye followed Cree's left arm, the hand of which was interlaced with that of the boy next to him. I smiled, and looked at the shorter boy on his right who held his hand. The lad had as smooth a face and bright a smile as his boyfriend Cree. He was easily a year younger than Cree, with dark brown curly hair trimmed close on the sides, with the rest swept back in a very flattering wave.
"Hey", was all he said, but I recognized the deep voice immediately. I practically gasped.
"Holy shit!" Then, composing myself, said, "Kenneth??"
It was him. Cleaner, clearer, happier, and far better groomed, but it was definitely him. The obnoxiously thick glasses were long gone, and even without the other improvements, that alone would have been enough to vastly alter his appearance.
Kenneth pointed at his eyes. "Contacts." I looked again, and saw dazzling raspberry-brown eyes shining back at me.
"They, um, they look good", I stumbled. I was pretty taken aback by the idea that these two who had been mortal enemies in the halls were now boyfriends in the gym. But as Kenneth turned to look at Cree and two shared a gentle, smiling kiss, I began to believe.
The rest of the team walked up and down the line of new recruits shaking hands and introducing themselves. I was convinced at first that I knew none of these new players, but as I chatted more, I realized I had seen them around campus--just never so cheerful, cleaned, scrubbed, shining and polished. And certainly not rubbered. It suited them.
There was a single clap of hands at the end of the line as Christian brought his hands together. The entire line of newly-rubbered young recruits pulled their legs together to stand at attention simultaneously with a collective thump. "So, gentlemen", Christian said with authority, "are you ready to begin your new regimen as the team of champions you are?"
Their voices answered in unison with conviction. "YES, SIR!!"
All I could do was stand and stare. Remarkable.
Christian kept his voice raised as he made an announcement. "As some of you may already know, I have just been offered the position here as head varsity coach." All of us grads felt our eyes bug out at that little revelation. None of us knew that, as I'd bet that Christian was well aware. "And this good gentleman, your former team captain", and he extended an arm to acknowledge me, "is my first choice for the new assistant coach. That is, if he's interested in accepting the job."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. This was what I wanted to go away to college and study Phys Ed for, but here it was being offered to me right after graduation. My mouth hung open and I looked at Tad, who was doing the "golf clap". Christian strode over to me and extended his hand. "I'll understand if you need time to think about it."
I shook his hand with vigor. "No, sir! I mean, yes! I'll take the job, coach!"
"Thought you might", Christian said with a grin. "Before you leave today, though, I have something for you and Tad. Hang on." Christian walked over to the bleachers to retrieve two boxes from his duffle. He brought them to tad and I, handing one to each of us. They were large, rectangular shirt boxes whose heft I recognized almost immediately.
"Ohh, sir...", I said softly.
Tad looked at his box. "Are--are these our--?"
"Open them."
We did as instructed and revealed our shining blue and gold rubber bodysuits from Homecoming and our final game. "Those are yours, fellas", Christian said. "I hadn't intended for anyone to take theirs home at the end of the season, but I believe you've earned them."
We closed the lids rapidly, eager to get them home and put them on. "Thanks a lot, Christian. For the suits, for the job."
Tad finished my sentiment. "For everything."
"Don't thank me yet. Whipping an inexperienced team into shape is hard work--especially when so many of the players have never been active in athletics. We've got a lot of work ahead of us. You ready for that, Cody?"
"I was born ready, coach."
Christian walked back over to the new line of recruits, who had fallen into relaxed postures while Christian was speaking to us. Christian clapped his hands once and the whole group stood ramrod straight at attention again. Tad and I began to leave, but Christian held aloft an index finger, indicating we should wait just a moment longer. He snapped his fingers. At first, I didn't see that it had any effect on the line of rubberboys at all, until Tad nudged me in the ribs and pointed to where I should've been looking. At the sound of the finger snap, every boy there had sprung an erection. Christian winked at us, giving a quick thumbs-up.
Christian then waved us off, his face lit by a broad, if wicked, smile. My boyfriend and I left holding hands, our new suits tucked under our arms.
Tad and I stood together in our blue & gold "Reward Suits" as we had come to call them. Xander and Skeevo had been good enough to offer us one of the frat house rooms to celebrate our evening, and we decided to take advantage of it.
Tad put his arms around my shoulders and leaned in close to kiss me lightly on the lips. "Has this been an incredible last day of school, or what?"
"Most definitely in the 'Or What' category", I grinned back. Without breaking our embrace, I shuffled Tad over toward the bed and gently pushed him down into a sitting position. I kissed him once lightly, as he had me, then again with a bit more force. I then stepped away to get something for him, letting my fingertips brush against his cheek as I did.
"So what was in the metal box Christian gave you?", Tad asked me. "Is it like your official assistant coach's whistle or something like that?"
I pulled the little box in question from my backpack. "Funny you should ask that." I held it up for a moment, to make sure Tad saw what I had, then tossed it over to him.
He hefted the box in his hands, brow furrowed in confusion. "Sooo...what is it, exactly?"
"Motivation", I said slyly. "Open it."
He did. His eyes fell upon the rubber collar and his mouth fell open. Carefully, he lifted the collar from its case. "Cody, what the fuck is up with this? Is--is this some kind of bondage collar or somethi--" He stopped. Then, looking at me with concern, he asked softly, "Code, this doesn't mean you're Christian's slave or anything, does it?"
I smiled, holding back a little laugh. To think that only a year ago, such concepts as gay football players, rubber-suited teammates and collared slaveboys were totally beyond us. And now, well... I sat down beside my boyfriend. "No, no, nothing like that. Read the tag."
"MVP. Yeah, well, you'll get no argument from me there. So, it's like just a novelty award, or trophy, or what?"
"I'll show you", I said, undoing the latch and reaching into the small box to find the padlock under the velvet padding.
Tad lay back on the bed, collar snugly around his neck, moaning softly with sheer pleasure. "Ooooohhhh...Codyyyy...this-this is....oh my God, Cody...maaannnnn..." He began to giggle a bit.
"Feel good?", I asked, already knowing the answer.
"Cody, baby...this feeelss...oohhhh, uuhhhh...b-better than an-anything...I've, I've, I've ev-everrrrr..w-worn...h-holy sh-sh-shit..."
Tad had sprung the erection of his life, and so I deftly removed the front flap of his Reward Suit to free it from its confinement. Since I was similarly afflicted, I also tore off my own front flap and tossed them both into the corner. Tad was flexing his fingers and lightly clutching the bedspread, tensing and untensing his shoulder muscles, and curling and uncurling his toes as he felt the waves of delight sweep over him, intensifying the pleasurable sensations of his rubber bodysuit, as well as any affections he felt for me.
I crawled up onto the bed and straddled him, looking down at his beautiful face, alive with smiling eyes and broad grin. "Who do you love, buddy?"
"I love you, Cody", he said with no stutter and total conviction. "God, man, I love you so much."
"I love you too, man. With all my heart." I lowered myself down upon him, our throbbing exposed erections pressing one atop the other. Our rubbered chests pressed together and our latex-encased legs rubbed against each other. Tad inhaled sharply upon contact, then settled down again as I gently stroked his hair.
Tad closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "S-so...you're a big-time coach guy now, huh?"
My fingers ran through his hair, my thumb drifting down to stroke his temple. "Looks like. You going to college, hon? Maybe this one? I could probably get you into the frat. Xander and Skeev have got some pul--"
Tad put his teeth together and separated his lips. "Sshhhhh--" I stopped talking.
Gingerly, he cradled the back of my head in his hand and drew my face to his. "Later. Not tonight. I don't ever want this moment to end, man. Don't worry about tomorrow. Just be with me tonight, Cody." Our foreheads touched and I could feel both our warm erections growing stronger, if such a thing were possible.
"Deal", I agreed, and let myself melt into his arms, to feel the tightly layered sensation of skin to rubber, rubber to rubber, and rubber to skin we'd created. "I could stay this way all night."
And so we did.
Did you enjoy this story? If so, write the author at purplebootsgywr@hotmail.com and tell him so he'll write more.