WARNING: THIS IS A GROTESQUE STORY OF SEXUAL VIOLENCE, DESIGNED TO SHOCK,
REPULSE AND AROUSE. IF THAT IS NOT IN YOUR BEST INTEREST, OR YOU ARE
UNDERAGE, STOP READING THIS STORY. THAT’S AN ORDER.
Jason Expresses His Displeasure
By Chip Masterson
i couldn’t believe how stupid the Jason High Argonauts were. They knew He was in the stands, yet they
still lost the game against Spokane. i prayed He wouldn’t take the stadium apart, because i could see the
muscles of His back and shoulders writhing under His steel-hard yet paper-thin skin. The way His
forearms worked as He clenched and unclenched His fists almost made me splooge in awe and fear.
Luckily, i could spend some moments away arranging for the paramedics to take Matt to the hospital.
i clicked off the cellphone and Jason cocked His eyebrow at me. His handsome jaw clenched hard and He
told me between His teeth what i was to do. Then He looked down at my twitching prick and the sweat
beading my brow and said, “I know it turns you on when I am pissed. That’s very dangerous.”
The agony of His words, the violence behind them, strangled my guts with the most perverse of self-
destructive cravings. “i know, Sir. i cannot help myself. Your power easily overwhelms my strongest
defenses.”
He nodded at me, a long long time, finally saying “I know.” Then, more quietly, to Himself, “I know.”
i rushed to assure Him: “i will never ever do anything make You pissed in order to feel that pleasure, my
Lord. Please believe me. i am not that stupid. You could not have chosen me if i were that stupid.”
“Unlike them. You have fifteen minutes. Go ahead and get it over with, BOY.”
The way He says BOY makes it almost impossible for me not to come, and i lost control, spraying my thin
semen against the nearby townsfolk, who could not leave until He did. He turned and stomped out. His
boots caved in the steps so severely they continued to collapse inward behind Him, dragging benches and
people into the creased valley of steel. Fortunately no one was really hurt, and He leapt over the side of the
stadium and landed with a thud that would have set car alarms off had He not already banned the annoying
motherfuckers.
i jumped over the railing and ran across the field to the home team lockers. The guys were still in their
gear, sitting silently, waiting to hear their fate. Sweat bled through the coach’s windbreaker, the honor of
clothing having been granted him in expectation of a winning season. i ran up and they stood up in salute,
as they knew i was Jason’s errand boy. To disrespect me was to disrespect Him. But their knees knocked.
The coach looked about five shades beyond pale.
Since Jason had banned names, the players could only be identified by position or face to face. i pointed at
the coach, a middle-aged former minor leaguer with a gut, and motioned him off to the side. i pointed at
the quarterback, a 18 year old blond beauty, six feet two and 210 with 18 inch peaks that could hurl a
football from endzone to endzone with precision, and a huge Swedish cock that’s responsible for more
abortions than any other in the school. i motioned for the team captain, a 17 year old Italian bruiser who at
five eleven and 200 lbs could pound the living shit out of anyone, except obviously Him. Captain promptly
threw up. Then came the hard part: the rest all looked alike to me. So i had to do some quick calculations,
since the coach couldn’t possibly be asked to make this decision. i told everyone to line up, and flex their
arms. That raised the jersey’s off their abs and between the two measurements, and their heights, i
determined who the biggest three were. i nodded to a black fullback who must have weighed 245. i
pointed to a Latino linebacker who came close behind him, with gigantic, undefined barrel-like upper-arms.
And i grimaced as i chose the one boy who, pre-Jason, i had had the hugest crush on, a dazzlingly
handsome Indonesian/Black/Irish mix with broad bowling-ball shoulders and the tiniest waist, a running
back whose speed was as dazzling as his effortless grace at anything he did.
Lined up together, they were shivering with fear and trying to work up the discipline and anger to meet
their fates like men. i didn’t have to tell them Jason was the only Man in town, because what went on in
their heads in their last moments of relative freedom was the only mercy i could give them. i said “we’ve
only got about ten minutes. we’d better fly.”
We loaded up into the quarterback’s brand new turbo-charged power diesel Super-Duty Ford F-350 XLT,
the struts groaning with the load of teenage beef, and headed up to the mansion of some old oil tycoon
Jason appropriated on His ascension to power. It was a gargantuan turn-of-the-century Mansard-roofed
spookhouse with lace curtains, antler chandeliers and whole stuffed grizzlies, the works. Beautiful
woodwork. A bitch to dust.
We parked in the back, where it was pitch black except for a yellow square from the service porch
window. We idled in the truck a moment, three us crammed in the front seat and the captain and
teammates back in the box. Nobody wanted to move and since we had one minute before we were due, we
allowed ourselves the luxury of steeling ourselves for that encounter. Now, let me introduce you all to
Miss Take.
Shockingly we flew up in the air, flipping back over front, crashing through some pine branches and
landing on the wheels facing the other way. We bounced against each other as the truck tried to settle, and
saw the four players sprawled on the dirt in front of us. But Jason, the only possible cause of this, was not
in sight. Terror broke across the quarterback’s strained face and he inexplicably gunned the motor and
floored the accelerator. “NO!” i screamed, grabbing hold of his panicked, strong arm as it worked the
gears.
i kept yanking uselessly against that arm as the engine revved and roared and 275 horses spun dirt into the
blackness. The trucked could reach 500 lbs per foot of torque under 2000 rpm and i felt the machine
shudder as all its power was emasculated by a power far greater. We weren’t moving an inch. Jason,
utterly naked, stood behind us and held the tow ball crumpled in His toes. i watched the rpm needle slide
all the way across the dial as the engine maxed out against Jason’s bent leg. In the taillights we could see
His brawny arms crossed against His monstrous pecs and the scowl of dissatisfaction on His face. i could
only pray He could see me pulling on and pleading with the quarterback.
The front end bobbed up off the ground as Jason pressed down on the tow bar, increasing the pressure on
the rear axle as the tires ground down into the bedrock into which the house was set. The revving took on a
labored rhythmic whine as the incline increased and the truck strained to overcome His superior force. It
quivered back and forth, a steel beast capable of towing six and a half tons and bearing ten tons, restrained
and then pressed into the ground by one teen muscle monster’s leg. The cab jerked forward, surging like a
horse trying to break free as the players on the ground scrambled away from it. Finally the shocks blew
and the springs cracked and tow bar snapped off. The truck fell to the ground and the front-wheel drive
engaged and we lurched forward – a foot. Jason’s arm whipped up and held us by the gate, which bent
sharply outward in His hand.
i kept pounding on the hard, heedless muscles of the terrified athlete as the coach opened the door and
bailed out, begging Jason for mercy. The car kept revving and lurching and i thought the gate would finally
give when our lives were saved – however temporarily – by the 7.3 liter diesel engine cracking in half. The
car shivered and died and Jason’s arm let go but the force He’d been exerting was so great the truck flew
back against His body. The bed bent inward around His hips and thighs, the fenders sailing past and
curling inward as the steel buckled against Him. The rear axle bent around His legs until it snapped,
everything folding up against Him just due to the force of a single pull. The steaming truck came to a rest
with half the box folded around His immobile muscle body. The quarterback flew forward against the
wheel and reeled back, his head bleeding. The steering wheel was bent inward where his chest had hit it.
The quarterback snapped his head and tried to open the door to flee, but it was jammed. he looked up
through the window and saw Jason standing there, His cock pressed against the door and keeping it sealed
against the boy’s shoving triceps. He frowned and shook His head and the boy suddenly burst into tears,
blubbering snot and drool. i pulled his heavy, nearly limp arm and dragged him out the other side of the
cab. Quarterback fell on the ground on his face, while the other guys were lined up on their knees with
their heads appropriately bowed.
Jason said only one thing to the QB: “You could have hurt my Chippy. You should have listened to him.”
The QB began to writhe himself into the dirt, emitting this mournful moan, and a couple other players were
openly weeping. The coach looked catatonic. Only the Italian and my former flame were trying to mask
their anger. But He sees through all masks.
Turning to me, He touched a bit of blood on my forehead and let me lick it off His thumb. i lapped it up
gently, like a good puppy, and He tousled my hair. “You okay?” i nodded, thronging with the rapture of
being cared for by Him. Insensible to my own injuries. Aflame with love, lust, worship. He said to me,
quietly, “Get this meat in the basement for dressing.”
The weepers blubbered anew and the others fumed as i led them down the basement steps into the delivery
room of the labyrinthine underlevels of the mansion. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they could see the
massive cold storage units that lined one wall. The other wall hid an elaborate, and recently installed,
smokehouse. The room was moderately warm but the sight of all those meat storage units made them all
shiver.
i told the guys to put on their football helmets and adjust all their pads and gear for inspection. After an
hour of standing at attention on the concrete, Jason came down the steps. The whole house creaked every
time He moved about, and we were trying to work out a solution to that. He stood before the line-up and
shook His head.
“Even though you knew I was in the stands, atTEMTPING to enjoy Myself, you lost. How do you even
have the BALLS to lose?” He waited; it was clear He wanted an answer.
The Latino blurted out “Their offense was so powerful—“
“MORE POWERFUL THAN ME, SHITHEAD?”
Every cup stretched out at the sound of His shout, even the super-straight emotionally-broken Swedish
stud. The giant Latino quaked. “Please, please, sir, don’t hurt me! Pleeeaase!”
i saw the glint in Jason’s eyes at those words. “Coach, you’re up first.”
he hesitated. “NOW!!!!” He screamed, His neck bulging and His shoulders bristling with veins. The
man’s body obeyed independently of his mind and he shuffled forward, his crotch bleeding a patch of insta-
cum. Quietly, He said “Did I tell you you could come, you loser? ANSWER ME!”
The coach’s dick lurched and bobbed in his pants and he shook his head, the muscles slack and slinging
back and forth. Jason turned him around, bent the man over and ripped his pants off so hard i heard the
coach’s stiff cock snap, still spewing come. his shirt and windbreaker came off next, snapping his shoulder
blades. “Now, that sort of undisciplined approach to pleasing me is how we lost the game today, isn’t it?”
Spinning the coach around, He said “I’m not getting near your saggy bunghole. I’m going to dig your
problem out at the root and instill in you the respect I deserve.”
Jason reached down and wrapped His hand around coach’s cock and balls, crushing them as the man’s face
spasmed into painful life. He jerked coach up into the air by his blood-spurting balls and horridly flopping
cock and held him there a moment, letting the back muscles pull loose a bit. Then bringing His other fist
down hard on the coach’s chest with a crackling of bone, He slammed the coach down to the floor, ripping
his genitals off his body. These He stuffed into the ex-man’s mouth to stop the involuntary shrieking the
guy just could not learn to control. Picking him back up by pinching his hip with one hand (and snapping
the bone with two fingers), Jason then plunged His monster god-cock into the bloody hole. Stopped the
bleeding entirely with His massive girth. He began fucking the cock-hole slowly, building up speed.
As He jerked the man back and forth faster and faster, the man’s skin stretched and ripped open across His
fat belly. Jason’s manhood continued to plunge deeper into this guts, chewing them up with violent
friction. The belly split farther, and torn intestines began jerking out every time Jason slammed himself
home. i marveled at the power of that arm, the beauty of those dimpled, thrusting glutes, the immensity of
those sky-supporting legs. Only the slushy squishing of the guts beginning to dribble out around Jason’s
virility like obscene Mardi Gras beads brought my attention back to coach.
he was still alive, his heart seizing and causing his arms to spasm. Blood kept splashing up out of the
man’s grimacing maw. Jason plowed him harder and harder, causing the body to start to fall apart like an
overdone turkey, fat and flaccid muscle peeling off the ribcage as Jason’s cock penetrated into the chest
cavity, forcing the lungs apart as it pierced the esophagus. The man’s eyes flew wide one last time as
consciousness finally exploded out of his brain with nuclear pain, and Jason’s cock rammed up this throat
and began filling his head with come. Godcome spurted out the corpse’s nose and ears and mouth as Jason
rammed His holy member against the cracking skull cap. The man’s liquefied brains oozed out, staining
the streams of come with pinkish trailers of jelly.
Bringing His fist down on the coach’s face shattered the bone and broke the skull across His ramrod, and
the halved coach’s remains fell to the floor, where i scurried to drag them off to the side. Without missing
a beat, and stopping the flow of come with His supreme will, He then barked an order for the two biggest
guys, the Latino and the black guy, to approach. Again, their bodies responded irrespective of any will
they might yet possess.
These guys were big, muscle and fat combined in huge strength and power. Jason didn’t say a word, so
much contempt did He have for their performance. The Latino started blubbering “please” again and Jason
reached down and grabbed each cup in His hand, and squeezed. The hard plastic protectors cracked and
caved inward, crushing the men’s substantial genitals. As they struggled to suppress cries of pain, Jason
rose so fast it was dizzying and wrapped His hands over each man’s shoulder-padded shoulder. He
squeezed, forearms rippling with power, forcing the impact-resistant pads to quickly fold and crunch like
styrofoam until the collarbones and shoulder joints snapped and ground together under His fingers. Then
He arranged them facing each other, and encircled their bodies with His arms.
He couldn’t reach around them – yet – so He grabbed hold of the black guys’ shoulder blades and pulled,
shattering the bones and shooting shard through the guy’s chest. Groans burst from them and they
struggled but the two flailing athletes were no match for Him. Without even leaning back, He lifted them
both off the floor, and further compressed them in a massive bearhug. They screamed and bones bent
under their heavy flesh. Jason didn’t like the resistance. So He intensified His pressure upon them until the
splintering of their ribs pleased Him better. You could hear the bones crackle like popcorn in a microwave.
Their bodies bulged and dented outward above and below His arms.
Their helmets forced their heads backward even as their bodies caved in beneath His astounding muscular
contractions. Skin burst open all over them, staining their uniforms with red and yellowish smears. His
pecs pulverized the Latino’s lower traps and clamped down like a vise around his spine, quickly crushing it
to powdery pulp. The teen shrieked but his lower body stopped jerking suddenly. The Black teen’s eyes
burst out of their sockets and lolled down on his cheeks as the insane pressure forced too much blood into
his head. By now Jason’s hands had clamped together.
Finishing them off quickly He forced His arms steadily toward His own pecs, their bodies collapsing like
cars inside a crusher. Flatter and flatter they shrank, until the helmets forced their necks to snap. Jason
then started grinding His arms against them, His biceps biting in and chewing their bulging, dripping
bodies as the two guys were pressed into one hideous inseparable beast. Broken ribs interlocked and with a
small grunt Jason gave a final twist that nearly tore them in half. These He dropped and again i scampered
over to drag the carcasses out of the way.
The quarterback’s eyes rolled as if he’d gone insane, but the two angry dudes, the Italian and the gorgeous
Asian openly now defied Him. “Go ahead, kill us if that makes you the big man!” said the Italian. “I
thought Gods were supposed to be merciful, man,” said the Asian, his handsome face contorted with rage.
Jason didn’t let them continue but faster than the eye could see He was upon them, with His hands on their
helmets, forcing them to their knees.
“First, if I even gave a shit what you two ball-droppers thought, maybe I’d be hurt, but since you lost, you
obviously don’t know shit about shit. Second, there is only one God, creator of the heavens and the earth,
of all that is, seen and unseen, and that is me. So by saying ‘gods’ you’ve committed the supreme
blasphemy of believing there could be another like me anywhere in the universe. I need to put those shit-
thoughts out of your shit-heads.”
His hands clamped down on their helmets and the sound of the hard material creaking and finally splitting
under His muscle compulsion shut them up. His fingers worked into the cracks and then spread apart,
peeling the helmets off their head with their flexion, the dense plastic tearing apart like an orange peel. His
hands then came down on the crowns of their heads and with one quick FLEX cracked their skulls. Not
enough to kill them, but enough at least for those evil thoughts to escape.
Dragging the gagging men away from the wall by their cracked skulls, He kicked and fractured their knees
in two swift blows. They fell to the ground, writhing, but He was quicker. One leg was already beneath
them where they fell, and the other stretched high beside His body. He lay on the ground and scisssored
the other leg down over their bodies, deftly manipulating them so that they lay atop each other, each facing
out. His hands tore the clothing and pads from their bodies so they lay naked between His thighs.
“Chippy, it’s time for dinner,” He said, and i raced upstairs and back down fast as i could. i washed the
spattered blood and brains from His face and peeled bananas to feed to Him. He had an entire roasted
twenty-pound turkey to devour, along with five pounds of potatoes, a few buns of broccoli, fruit.
Meanwhile, His legs closed together with exquisite muscle control, so slowly you couldn’t follow them,
less than a millimeter per minute. The boys struggled, their strong arms pressed in vain against those tree
trucks, their muscular upper bodies flexed and pressing back in a feeble attempt to resist. He didn’t even
pay them attention. His legs kept scissoring shut, slowly, while He read through the new Forbes and
Fortune 500 magazines, quickly assimilating the knowledge He would need to conquer the economic world
and dominate the stock market. Already He’d doubled His (formerly the entire town’s) portfolio, all
legally, using His superior wisdom, insight and strategy. And it had only been a week. Wall Street didn’t
know it, yet, though it was starting to feel the first disturbing ripples of His power, but it would, before
anyone had time to realize, be renamed Jason Street. There could be no stopping Him now.
He hungrily sucked down the food, crunching even the turkey bones to get at the marrow, when something
popped and the plucky Italian captain, on top, yelled “Marcus, are you alright?” The Asian’s spine had
dislocated and captain had felt it in his own back.
Jason growled, “You remember his former name?” Suddenly those legs ate through inches of their flesh
and the captain shrieked as his guts squeezed up against his diaphragm. “This is unacceptable.”
Jason rose up using only His abs and stared the Italian in the eyes. “HOW DARE YOU DEFY ME!” He
screamed, glaring so deeply into the 17 year old stud’s eyes that the boy’s thick dark cock hardened and his
eyes widened in sudden, abject fear. Suddenly he knew what it was to face the God’s wrath and his face
broke into sobs. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry,” he cried. Jason’s face went blank and He turned His attention back
to Teen People. And now leveraging them into the air, kept slowly crushing.
Now you could really hear their bones begin to creak, as the pressure doubled, held for a minute, then
doubled again. Sweat poured off their bodies and they could no longer struggle, just heave shallow
breathes and pray for a quick end. But Jason would not rush again for them. Another millimeter. A rib
cracks. Another millimeter and fluid herniates into Asian’s balls causing them to swell suddenly to the size
of grapefruits. Jason was absorbing the New York Times, rifling through the pages so fast I couldn’t even
read the headlines, yet incorporating vast amounts of information into His brain at a glance. His legs
tightened infinitesimally and the boys started coughing darkish blood.
The relentless pressing finally reached its peak and the two spines ground against each other through their
shredding lower back muscles. The Asian’s eyes pleaded for mercy while blobs of froth flowed out of his
mouth and the Italian captain’s arms fell suddenly limp, his head lolling to the side as his tongue stuck out
of his throat. Jason legs began to sexily grind together, making His own member engorge slightly. The
Asian emitted a strangled cry as his body broke and draped over His leg. Now Jason turned His fierce
visage to the work and KEPT SQUEEZING. Their bodies started to jitter and flop as the final living nerves
freaked out and with a horrid crushing squish Jason’s legs came together and cut the two muscle teens in
half. Their ragged torsos clomped to the floor along with their pelvis-legs. Jason Himself kicked them out
of the way and now, cocking His eyebrow, silently commanded the fumbling quarterback over for his final
punishment.
His cock was still covered with blood and brains. In fact, His whole body was engulfed in gore. Staring
into the fallen hero’s eyes, He wordlessly mindfucked the quarterback into cleaning Him off, starting with
His feet. The blond former football-god began licking and swallowing the spatters, running his tongue up
the Man’s legs and consuming the blood and flesh of his former teammates and coach. The more the boy
ate, the more he desired, hungrily slurping up brain matter. When the teen musclestud got to Jason’s balls,
Jason thumped him in the head, His finger sinking into the skull. The QB went around Jason’s God-center
and a little more clumsily continued up His body, worshipfully sucking the streams of blood of His fingers
and cleaning the deep, hard crevices between His abs and obliques. Only when the kid reached Jason’s
neck did He thump him again, on the other side, which caused the QB to relax.
“Flex your muscle,” He commanded, and the QB produced a mounded bicep that had been the envy of
many, which had produced so many winning seasons. Jason’s hand surrounded it and squeezed. His
fingers sank into the rock-hard muscle until the fibers separated and broke apart. Blood sprayed out as
Jason’s fingers worked deeper, shredding the muscle on the bone. The boy’s lower arm sank limply. “Flex
your muscle,” He commanded, and the twin peak rose, not as high but longer and fuller than the other one.
This one Jason grabbed and pulled up, ripping it out of the boy’s arm; he didn’t utter a sound as his own
bicep tore out of its skin. Jason sniffed it, as if considering whether to eat it. But it was beneath Him to eat
a loser’s muscle. That would only weaken Him with loserness. So He threw it onto the pile.
The torn, blood-spurting arms hung loose at the Swede’s sides and Jason pointed a finger at His balls. The
rapidly paling face went to work delicately sucking the blood and guts out of the hairs adorning His holy
nutsack, not daring to actually pull one of those splendid testes into his mouth. Jason noticed how chapped
and broken the Swede’s once full lips had become, smeared with unsightly blood like some cheap drunken
hooker. With a finger that dislocated the boy’s jaw, He forced the mouth wider. Pinching His fingers
together, He ripped the teeth out one by one. The athlete jerked and twitched but only a harsh wheezing
came out of his throat. Finally Jason crammed His royal cock into the orifice and down into the kid’s
throat.
Jason’s 19 year old cockforce made the 18 year old’s neck bulge outward to contain it. Jason pressed the
Swede’s once gorgeous face to His holy crotch, allowing His cock to lengthen deeper into the boy’s throat.
As His cock grew longer, and thicker, the kid’s face began to turn red, then purple. Jason didn’t buck or
thrust, but just let that incredible cock swell and grow until the failed quarterback’s body began to spasm
and buck on its own. Some survival instinct began trying to pull itself away and Jason’s hands on the blond
head kept him firmly attached. As the body jerked and twitched itself back and forth, Jason’s cock began
to give in to the pleasure of the stimulation. The boy’s face turned blue and suddenly violent contractions
rocked the muscular torso, driving it to flop into the air and constrict around the glorious python of God.
Jason smiled, for the first time that night, as His cock began filling the boy’s stomach with sacred fluid.
The flow continue even as the body’s spasms began to subside, an overwhelming flood that distended the
hard-abdominaled belly. Come began to spurt out of the boy’s ass with fire-hose pressure as the sphincter
tried to close with a death-contraction and the pumping semen forced it open. Even the boy’s erect cock,
almost as wondrously huge as His own, began spewing come, and i could tell by the smell it was not his
own come but the Master’s, filling the weaker cock with more powerful juice than those impregnating
Swedish balls could ever producer. No wonder it appeared so big: the Master’s flow stretched it wider and
wider until the skin split.
Finally the Swede died and his butthole relaxed and Jason’s essence gushed out more lava-like. He kept
fucking the corpse for another few minutes, until His orgasm began to die down. He pulled out and
allowed me the privilege of cleaning off His still drooling cock once again.
When i was sated and the holy member sparkling, He said “Time now to deliver the message, boy.” So i
dragged the corpses outside and stacked the remains into the crumpled bed of the Ford F-350. Jason then
hefted the tonnage up into the air, and began squeezing His arms together.
The truck creaked and immediately began to bend backwards in His arms. His lats flared to further
pressure the steel into conformity with His will and the giant cab squealed up into the night sky, rising
closer and closer to the ascending, pronged bed. The bodies slumped and sloshed as Jason folded the truck
up around them, grunting a bit with the strain of doing it just right.
The truck jittered like the Swede’s death throes as it collapsed backward onto itself in the air. The iron
skeleton skewed around, flowing like rubber in His hands. When He could feel the two ends grind
together, He twisted it around in His arms and began working the steel together, using His biceps and
forearms to press the compact the body into a ball. The tires splayed out and various undercarriage lines
tore apart but His hands immediately caught them and forced them back into the ball. The metal crackled
and groaned at its punishment. Glass shattered and the leather upholstery ripped and shredded as the metal
tore through it.
i remembered seeing a special on dung beetles on PBS. They lay their eggs and then shape elephant dung
into a huge sphere around them, making the ball almost perfect though it is far larger than they are. The
new generation then eats its way out. Jason was doing something similar. He was making a steel death-
egg for the town.
His pecs and traps rippled gloriously as the pressures He exerted destroyed Detroit steel, deformed a huge
strong pick-up truck into a death-nest for the losers. His fingers crumpled the truck tighter and tighter until
my ears ached and it was small enough to fit easily in the back of His Dodge Ram. Then we drove into
town, back to the empty football stadium.
The side where He had made His angry exit listed quite a bit. Jason reached into His truckbed and pulled
the clump of corpse-filled metal out with one hand, then pitched it up into the sky. The trajectory was
perfect, the force of His arm enough to send it hundreds of yards up, then land splat down in the home end
zone, obliterating the team’s logo with its impact and stopping half-buried in the ground.
“Maybe now they’ll get it that losing isn’t an option,” He said, looking me in the eye so fiercely my
always-hard cock twitched again.
He sighed and rolled His eyes. “Go ahead and get it over with.” i turned and happily did.
The End. Until He Says Different.
chipmasterson@yahoo.com
(
geocities.com/westhollywood/Park) (
geocities.com/westhollywood)