Chapter 3
The door is locked. The shower curtain is pulled shut.
I’m standing in the tub, naked, cold tile under my feet.
I just showered. Made sure everything was clean for.
.. this. The plug stares at me from the ledge next to my shampoo.
Its vibrant purple color seems to mock me.
You thought you were a tough guy, hmm? Let’s see how tough you are with me inside you.
I’ve been staring at it for five minutes. Just… looking at it. Trying to psych myself up. I’ve faced down three-hundred-pound linemen who wanted to rip my head off. I’ve had my shoulder separated on a tackle and still managed to drag my ass back to the huddle. I can do this.
It’s just an object. A piece of silicone. It has no power over me.
“Is it in yet?” Stone’s voice cuts through the door. “We’re gonna be late for warm-ups.” He jiggles the doorknob. “You need some help in there, buddy? A guiding hand?”
“Dude, can you please give me a minute?”
“Just checking in on my investment,” he calls. “Don’t want you getting cold feet.”
Too late for that. My feet are frozen solid. I take a deep breath and grab the bottle of lube Lexi sold us. Water-based, for my sensitive skin. The label says “Silky Smooth” in a fancy cursive font, and it’s got a picture of a peach on it. Real masculine.
Squirting a generous amount onto my fingers, I steel myself. I can do this. I am Jay, for fuck’s sake. I don’t back down. This is just another stupid thing in a long line of stupid things.
I reach behind me, my slick fingers finding the tight knot of muscle that is my asshole.
This is fine. I do this all the time. Okay, maybe not this exactly, but cleaning back there in the shower is nothing new.
The only difference is that I usually do it quickly and efficiently, and it doesn’t require this level of concentration.
Closing my eyes, I try to breach the tight ring.
It clenches shut immediately. Shit. Okay.
Relax. I try again, focusing on breathing evenly as I press against the resistance.
There. The tip of my finger slips inside, helped by the slickness.
It feels… strangely soft inside. It doesn’t hurt, exactly, but it’s not a great feeling either.
I pause, adjusting to the weirdness.
After a few moments, I press deeper. Slowly, I slide the rest of my finger in, all the way up to the last knuckle. The muscles spasm around the intrusion, and a weird shiver runs down my spine.
I wiggle the digit, trying to acclimate. It doesn’t feel great. But it’s not terrible, either. And hey, I’ve got a whole finger inside me. That’s something. Maybe the plug won’t be so bad.
I pull out, then press two fingers against my entrance.
It takes some maneuvering and an awkward angle, but after a few tries, the tips of both fingers slide in.
I breathe through the initial discomfort, then press deeper, scissoring them slightly to stretch the muscle.
I’m doing it. I’m prepping my own ass. God, what is my life?
The bastard who dreamed up this nightmare is still on the other side of the door.
“You’re overthinking it,” he says.
“I’ve got two fingers up my ass, Stone. Can you please shut up?”
A loud laugh booms from our dorm room. “Attaboy! See? I knew you had it in you!”
In me. Yeah. That’s exactly the problem.
After another minute of what feels like the most intimate moment I’ve ever been with myself, I decide I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. I grab the plug. It’s heavier than it looks, and it feels alien in my palm, like some weird artifact from a planet of perverts.
I coat the plug in a generous amount of lube, making it glisten under the harsh bathroom light. Then, taking another deep breath, I align the tip with my prepped hole. Okay. Here goes nothing.
I push.
A sharp sting, and my whole body tenses up. The plug pops right back out.
“Goddammit,” I mutter.
“Having trouble in there, champ?”
“I swear to God, Stone, if you say one more word, I’m coming out there and I’m gonna shove this thing so far up your—”
“Alright, alright! Silence. I get it. Just pretend like it’s some smoking hot chick who wants to play with your ass, man.”
That’s… actually not the worst advice. But for the life of me, I can’t think of a single girl I’ve ever been with who would want to do this. And even if I could, the image of her wanting to shove a purple silicone object inside me is a bit of a mood-killer.
I try a different tactic. I think about the chair.
The blue one. With the speakers and the massage function.
I imagine myself sinking into it after a long day of practice, my back muscles unknotting under the gentle vibrations.
I imagine my clean, fresh-smelling laundry folded neatly in a basket beside me.
No more digging through a pile of dirty socks to find a clean pair.
I press the plug against my hole again, a little harder this time, and breathe out, trying to consciously relax the muscles. There’s a resistance, then a pop—a wet, squelching pop. The plug breaches me, and my muscles clamp down around the bulb.
My cock stirs, and I frown. What the hell?
That’s… odd. I give my dick a stern look as if to say, “You are not part of this.” But the deeper the plug sinks, the harder my traitorous cock gets.
By the time the toy bottoms out and the flared base settles snugly against my ass cheeks, I have a full-blown erection.
The fuck?
I stare down at the rigid pole, dumbfounded.
There is a foreign object in my rectum, and my cock decides now is the time to party? It’s probably confused, poor thing. A wire got crossed somewhere between my ass and my brain. A biological reaction to stimulation, that’s all.
I try to ignore it as I shift my stance.
The sensation is… weird. A fullness, a pressure deep inside me.
Not painful. Just… present. Very, very present.
I have to admit, it’s not as bad as I thought it would be.
The initial sting is gone, replaced by a dull, persistent ache that’s not entirely unpleasant.
It’s kind of like the day after a hard workout, when your muscles are sore but in a good way. Satisfyingly sore.
The thought is immediately followed by a wave of self-disgust.
Jay, get a grip. There is nothing satisfying about this.
I try a few experimental movements in the small tub.
A squat. The plug shifts, and I gasp. A lunge.
Another shift, another sound I can’t hold back.
A high knee. The plug presses deep against something inside me, and I have to grip the shower curtain to stay upright.
That’s… that’s not supposed to feel good.
It’s like it’s hitting some kind of button inside me.
My big ol’ cock is now leaking against my thigh as if it’s been waiting for this moment its whole life.
“Everything okay in there, buddy?” Stone calls, ever so helpful.
“Just finished up,” I call back, my voice a little higher than usual.
I quickly rinse my hands and splash some cold water on my face, then on my junk in a desperate attempt to calm things down. It doesn’t really work. But at least it’s not pointing straight at the ceiling anymore.
“What are you waiting for then? Let’s see it!”
I take a deep breath as I step out of the tub and wrap a towel around my waist. Stone and I have seen each other naked more times than I can count—showers, locker rooms, drunken skinny-dipping sessions. But this is different. This is an inspection. I feel like a prize cow at the county fair.
Unlocking the door, I step into our room. Stone is leaning against the wall with a huge, expectant grin on his face. He’s already in his compression shorts and practice jersey.
“Alright,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Show me the goods.”
I turn around, dropping the towel just enough to expose my ass. I bend over slightly, resting my hands on my knees, and present the flared base for inspection. The plug shifts with the movement, and I have to bite my lip to keep a strange sound from escaping.
Stone lets out a whistle. “Well, look at that. It’s in there good and snug. Nice work, soldier.” He takes a step closer, and I flinch. “Purple’s your color, dude. Who knew?”
“Alright, you’ve seen it,” I say, standing up and pulling my towel tight. “Are we done here?”
“For now. Let’s get going. We don’t wanna be late.”
And while I get dressed, pulling on my compression shorts and trying not to think about the next two hours, Stone watches me with an unnerving intensity.