Note: This story is a pure fantasy but based upon snippets of real-life stories about locker room hazing that I've read or heard about. If you've experienced or witnessed this sort of situation--or any type of gang-up situation involving athletes--please write me and tell me about it. I love to hear about this stuff. All characters are entirely fictional.
Craig and the Varsity Football Team (Part 1)
Craig was a freshman soccer player who mouthed off to guys on the football team one too many times about how football wasn't really a manly sport and how soccer was so much better. Craig was cocky. He would taunt his football-playing friends in between classes and during lunchtime: football players were "meatheads" who needed to feel "manly" by putting on all their pads. It was a "gay" sport because the quarterback had to put his hands up some other guy's ass.
The football players got tired of this real quick and hatched a plan one day after practice to make Craig pay for his words. They were standing around and talking about freshmen they really didn't like because of their attitude. Craig was at the top of their list, and they were going to teach him a lesson. "Yeah, dudes, Craig is going to be one sorry SOB," one football player said. "Or how about just our bitch," another football player laughed, cupping his crotch and massaging it while the others jeered him on: "Hell yeah, dude! Let's turn him into a fag!"
One day after practice, there were fifteen varsity football jocks waiting for Craig when he walked into the locker room. Their football practice had ended a little earlier than the soccer practice, so they took their time getting into the locker room and kind of horsed around until Craig came in - easy to do since there's a lot of goofing off that goes on anyway.
When Craig walked into the locker room--sweaty and sore from a hard workout--he didn't notice the football players quietly appearing out of nowhere and blocking off either side of the aisle where his locker was. No one else was changing in that aisle. He looked up when one of the players taunted, "Hey fag!" Craig saw that he was deeply in trouble.
Before he could attempt to run out, the football players yelled and rushed him and grabbed his arms and legs and lifted him up in the air. Cries of "Grab him!" and "Guys, get his legs, we'll get his arms!" echoed throughout the locker room. There were other boys nearby, other soccer players mostly, but no one wanted to get in the way of the football players and they also thought that Craig deserved a little lesson too. Mostly the other boys sort of stood off to the side and watched the spectacle before them.
Craig was struggled like a madman, shouting, thrashing around, trying to break free, but the jocks had him. In desperation, he reached out and clawed wildly onto the edge of the locker, a bench, anything to hold onto, but stronger hands pried his fingers away as the mass of shouting, hooting, hollering football players triumphantly carried away their struggling catch. They had him up in the air, legs and arms splayed, each with a strong football arm holding it up, and were heading to the far end of the locker room where the varsity football locker room was.
They carried him into the smaller locker room and slammed the door shut. This was a place where no one but varsity football players dared to go. There were about twenty football jocks in the room, of all shapes and sizes, but most were very good looking, cruel, arrogant jocks who also wrestled or played lacrosse or baseball. They were the types who wore dirty white caps, Abercrombie shirts and shorts, and had eye-candy girlfriends.
All were in various states of undress, some were still in full pads with their helmets taken off, and quite a few had taken off their jerseys and shoulder pads--just Underarmour shirts underneath--and had partially unlaced their pants showing the waistband of jocks and UA shorts.
No adults were around. The door was closed and locker. They threw him down on the ground and surrounded him. Craig looked wildly around him, yelled "F**k," and tried to make a break through the pack of football players. He jumped up and bolted to the door, but they merely laughed and a bunch of them took hold of his arms and another bunch grabbed his legs. He was suspended in the air again and the football players surrounded him, taunting him. "Lemme go guys, dammit, lemme go!" he shouted.
Someone yanked off his shoes and tossed them away. Two other pairs of hands simultaneously pulled down his bright red soccer shorts and his shirt was simply ripped off his upper body by three more pairs of hands. They didn't care that it was ruined. He was practically naked: just his black Underarmour compression shorts and a nice, tight hard body with good pecs and a developing six-pack for his abs.
Craig was carried over to one of the padded benches and held down by a whole bunch of players, who were leaning over him like eager surgeons surrounding a patient. The captain of the football team stepped up to him with a sneer on his face. "Looks like the freshman fag needs some oxygen. Hold him tight, boys!" The captain had his shoulder pads off so his upper body muscles showed through his UA shirt; his tight pants were partially unlaced. You could clearly see the words Underarmour printed in black and white on the waistband of his compression shorts.
As Craig struggled wildly to get free-and as the jocks held him to the bench ever tighter-the captain reached down into the front of his pants and freed the cup-one of the deep banana-style cups-from his compression shorts. After working it out of the built-in pocket, he held it up for all the guys to see--they pumped in their fists in the air and yelled louder, "Give that fag some oxygen!-thrust the cup onto Craig's face and, no matter which way Craig twisted his face, held the cup to his nose and mouth. The sound of Craig yelling was muffled by the cup. It stank of sweat.
There was a look of sheer terror and disgust on Craig's face, as probably ten or so football players pressed down on various parts of his body--his feet, his thighs, his torso, his upper body, his arms--to keep him still and howled in delight. The rest of the varsity players were crowded around to watch the scene unfold and jeered just as loudly.
Craig was in deep trouble, and he knew it, because he was also getting slightly hard. He hoped desperately that no one would notice. He just wanted to get out of there.