The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The gashes in Jake’s shoulder pads cut deep enough to spill yellow tufts of foam from the wound. His jersey battle-worn like a suit of armor and when the referee saw blood oozing out from between the plates he just yelled “PLAY ON!” and blew the whistle. No one on the field refused him.

“Hike—” And he was already upon them. Shearing through their numbers, chopping through their guard. The quarterback lay in the dirt and the crowd chanting his name.

A nominal accompaniment of Jake’s peers were present, but they were just as stunned and over-awed as all the rest. He had become a raging hulk-monster that flew through the air to intercept every pass with the wingspan of a pterodactyl and the clean beefy profile of a terrifying young adult He-man. Jake rammed straight through their defensive line, slapping down two hundred pound linemen with the flat of his hand—their helmets popping off with the slightest touch.

“HIT THE HELL OUT HIM BOY!” Spittle-whips flung like spaghetti from the lips of a greasy drunken Dad on the sidelines. A paperbag raised to his lips, drinking deep as if blowing a ram’s horn. His Adam’s apple bobbing up and down with each gulp. Body paint lashed his gut with the school’s colors.

Brittney slid past him with a simple ‘excuse me’.

In spite of the one-sided thumping, the game was still tremendously fun to watch. The other team devised increasingly desperate, silly attempts to subvert Jake’s influence as he consumed more and more of the rules of the game. They tried to hide the ball. Tried to flee. Tried to confuse him with loud noises and cheerleaders. To put every man they had on him and leave the flanks bare.

Nothing worked. Their resistance was meaningless. He even intercepted a ‘hike’. Set a new touchdown record for the whole season only yesterday, and was already set to topple it again tonight. The final score chased beyond the point of absurdity as after each game Jake became even more efficient at running up the numbers. More comfortable in a body three times the size of everyone else.

Brittney called it ‘Exponential Growth’ or some such calculus. One night, after Jake’s parents had gone to sleep, we counted up to ten with our fingers. Her explaining it to me in that calm, patient voice of hers. I could listen to her say anything.

“First you start with one.” Cooing, seductive, her breath hot against my ear—under the covers, trying not to wake the parents.

“Then two . . .” Her hands tiny compared to mine. I could close my fist around her’s without much trouble.

“Then twice that is four . . .” Inside her.

“And then eight.” Her smile.

After that you run out of fingers, or so it went. On and on, outwards into infinity. Touchdowns and dollar bills. In the stands cameras were going crazy; the audience had it’s own pyrotechnic energy.

The game was extremely well attended. Some said reporters for the local newspaper were here, discretely embedded in the crowd. Jake had become quite the local sensation. Despite many accusations of doping and photo identification records which mysteriously vanished in a fire, all charges were quickly dropped as needles could not penetrate his skin. His saliva dissolved q-tips in seconds. Only two people have ever seen his stool and both are sworn to secrecy. Their one-word sworn affidavit confirms it to be ‘Normal’ and at the time of publication, neither could be reached at their private vacation estates in the Caribbean for comment.

“Brittney you came!” Mari greeted her with a warm hug. Jake’s father, whose name she could never seem to remember, met her with a handshake. It was firm, respectful. Brittney liked to think he approved.

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Brittney took her seat next to them in the front row. The front row! Next to the principal and some balding dude I had never met. He worn a name tag on his lapel that read ‘Superintendent’ and his head bobbled from furiously nodding as if he was muttering ‘yesyesyesyes’ with no spaces between the words. He looked like a man for whom everything was turning up Milhouse.

“Who’s winning?” Brittney asked sarcastically. The scoreboard did not allow for three digit numbers.

Mari had the sense to roll her eyes and smile. The men however, were immune to subtly. Somehow the of them managed to interpret her amusing observation as serious ignorance and stepped over each other to man-splain each and every one of Jake’s sweeping victories.

“It’s because he’s so much larger than all the other boys—” As if she couldn’t plainly see.

“Actually, I’ll have to correct you there, I believe it’s because he’s so much faster than the other boys—” Like there were some other tremendous lion-man pouncing on an open field of prey.

There was the touchdown pass to himself’. When he had tossed his teammate ball carrier into the end zone. When he intercepted the field-goal just before it got past the post, twenty feet in the air! Deflecting it away so hard it popped! Just exploded midair like a gunshot. He needed help peeling it’s tatters from between his fingers. The superintendent was practically crunching his teeth to talk about the size of the new stadium they would have to build.

“My god, the SIZE of it!” He kept wheezing, his white-knuckle grip on the metal railing twisting this way and that. Ringing out the steel. “The SIZE of it! Just imagine . . .”

The fact more members of the opposing team were not simply DEAD was a testament to how sentimentally gentle Jake could be. His strength was not wild but tender. Careful and always in-control. He did not want to hurt them, as he easily could. He held back as he slammed them into the dirt. It made him more human

“I taught him that!” Jake’s father roared, a beer in both hands. His face squashed together with pride—drunk and rosy. “I taught him that!”

Brittney had always known Football was a thing in the same way that one knows monkeys at the zoo have low morals. A trifling and brutish sport. existing in world of human behavior alongside chewing bamboo and throwing excrement. A boy thing.

What she had not expected was the coffee shop outside school to be ‘sold out’. Or that after eight, it apparently required a liquor license, but could be still be traded for a strings of Marti Gras beads. All the girls and moms wore them in heavy wreaths around their necks to the point where it could obscure whether they were wearing a top at all. A weekday and already past sensible bedtimes, Brittney could not have predicted the strange naked hooliganism to so quickly overtake normal society at night.

“Looks like I got here just in time.” Admiring the players, Brittney sipped at her cup and eyed the war-torn field. The madness in full swing. Way more people than Brittney would have ever guessed lived here. Thousands more. Maybe they were drifters.

A large, glossy, well-lit needle exchange moved into the long-failing department store less than a block away and now there was a great deal of anxious, horny, scandalously dressed foot-traffic looking for a good time. Over the last few weeks a rash of lice, sunburns, tooth decay, Spanish fly and other spurious reasons drove whole families to the clinics by the busload. You could get six, seven, sometimes eight flu shots at a time. As the school radiologist put it, everybody can stand a hundred chest X-rays a year. They oughta have ’em, too.

“Oh isn’t it perfectly wonderful? Your Mom look’s great out there.” Mari pointed to the touchline where Lori bent over backwards, her tits out and wobbling tenaciously.

“Yeah she’s—” Brittney HATED to talk about it. Not something she really wanted to get into. She made a conscious effort to look anywhere else. “She’s something.”

Lori was apparently not ‘too old’ to be on the high school cheerleading team. She seemed to lead it, always at the head of whatever formation the girls were building. The eye of the pyramid. The first to flash her tits in a routine. She had become a helicopter team-mom that insisted on workout regimes designed to firm up their butts, break down inhibitions, and build community with group showers and communal boyfriends. Brittney had never been fond of cheerleaders but there was an overall tone of wanton anytime smuttiness that had been mostly absent before Lori took the team on that fieldtrip to the dentist.

The girls fired T-shirt cannons liberally into the over-stuffed bleachers, rattling badly under the weight of a thousand bestial fanatics. All of them roaring and hooting encouragement. All of them stamping their feet in time with the music, blowing airhorns, and doing body shots while fireworks exploded over the stadium. When the last of the cheerleaders was finally stripped bare, all of her clothes having been launched into the crowd, did they get back to their gymnastics.

“She’s SO confident.” Mari obviously saw something she admired in Lori’s fearless attitude towards double penetration in public. Though she too was soon drown out by more shouting.

Jake had just, for the second time this game, scored by hoisting the opposing team’s runner over his back and carrying him to the end zone. The crowds raged. There was a fury to their happiness. This Jake kid was tearing down everything fans knew about the game. Sacking quarterbacks at every down. Rampaging over the touchdown line dragging three other players caught helplessly in his wake. The visiting coach fought with the ref to stop the game.

A deafening klaxon bellowed over the field like dragon’s breath, announcing yet another touchdown by the man-giant named Jake. It was fantastic and other-worldly to see him play. There was a dog on the field and the rules didn’t say you couldn’t not be a dog so anything could happen. U human Airbud, flashing his boyish smile—still impishly good looking, even with the herculean proportions. Brittney had seen more than one woman discretely finger herself watching them whenever they got lunch.

“I thought you had that chess tournament—” Mari had to yell, cupping her hand over my ear to be heard over the ravenous crowd. The ground was thick with crushed nachos and used condoms.

“It finished early!” Britt shouted back into her own cupped hand. Passing the conversation back and forth like like string through a tin can.

“I won!” Brittney fished the medal out of her pocket. Just like the Olympics, a big gold medallion at the end of a fancy ribbon. “Got it engraved with my name and everything! There was a ceremony, no big deal.”

“Oh that’s fantastic! Congratulations! I knew you were going to win.” Mari smiled and pulled me back in for a warm hug.

“Thanks!” Brit liked Mari. She was always super supportive and friendly. We got along right away.

Brittney understood what Lori meant when she said she ‘couldn’t make it’ even before Brittney told her the time. What she meant when she said she had to ‘prep the boys’ for the big game. She squeaked ‘prep’ with a giggle, like a hiccup that caught her mid sentence. Pre-game stretches and personal massages could take hours and that didn’t even include all the time making sure their balls were completely drained and wouldn’t be swinging around during the game which I guess is a big problem for boys because most of the training was focused on that.

Brittney managed Jake’s routine herself, not really ashamed of the surge of jealousy whenever someone liked to presume on their relationship. She charted his calories, his vitamins, his lifts, his heart-rate. Every time he came. How much. Usually measured in mouthfuls, later presenting the information in a way he could understand with her tongue outstretched and a milky pool gathered up in the back of her throat. Jake could be pretty thick though so often Brittney simply resorted to repeating herself but louder and more slowly. Marching in towards him. Towering over him. Wringing out his cock with her tongue until his ears blew steam. Making him cum with her mind.

His balls were two pulsing ape hearts. His semen an ivory taffy. The consistency of hot liquid cheesecake batter and tasted about as good. Brittney was pretty sure that cum is supposed to taste awful, like the worst mix of warm gluey salt—but for whatever reason Jake’s tasted so good it almost made her black out. Like eating it literally made her peripheral vision shimmer.

Though compared to her, Jake’s diet beggared belief. Eating pounds of steak and cheese-fries daily, just to replenish the sheer volume of fluid lost. The nutritionist claimed there were potentially millions of calories in Jake’s sperm and kept claiming to need more batches. She was continually losing the last one.

“Oh, your mom wanted me to tell you she’s not coming home again tonight.” Mari looked sympathetic. Brittney quite liked the privacy at home and so simply nodded that she understood. Just like she understood when she wasn’t there at chess club.

It was for the best, Lori not coming home at nights. Really. It doesn’t bother me at all. It’s fine.

I really don’t think about it much. Lori, I mean, Mom’s, always been like that. Always bored at past debate club events. So what if it felt vaguely hurtful to think about that one time she visibly yawned—right at the climax of my five hour model UN speech. A monologue I absolutely crushed by the way. They don’t tell you this on the brochure, but New World Order is one of the win conditions. All you have to do was make the other nations prostrate themselves in front of you.

“Any good matches?” Mari seemed like she honestly wanted to know.

“A few.” She demurred.

To be honest, the championship had ended rather abruptly. It was supposed to go until ten but in the end it had been simpler to just play everyone simultaneously. Jaws dropped as Brittney systematically blew them away. Her queen knocking over pieces like pins at a bowling alley. There were some truly great chess players and a few made her sweat, but a 63-0 record speaks for itself. There was even time left to thank each player personally. There were no scowling faces.

The organizers were a bit miffed but most recognized they had just seen a genuine miracle and thanked her for the most invigorating ten minutes of their lives. When her rival from the other school shook her hand at the closing ceremony, he came right in his pants. Brittney stared him in the eye and didn’t let go until he crumpled to the floor on his knees. Begging her to stop. Fumbling with his belt, his palms sweaty—spurting all over the stage. Whimpering ’Brittney’ as his eyes rolled back into his head and his whole body shook. The audience applauded, clapping as one. Their cheeks rosy with ecstasy. Power raged through her.

“Chilly, don’t you think?” Her breath left clouds.

It was cold winter football and Brittney felt comfortable snuggling up to Mari. When they kissed, it was nice. Never lingering or unwanted. They both knew it wasn’t going anywhere, they weren’t in a relationship. It didn’t matter that she was a good thirty years older or that Brittney was dating her son. It’s just that she’s hot, I’m hot, we’re horny, it’s fun. It never got more complicated than that. With Lori, she was always trying to get Tweeter likes and test the splash rating for non-prescription glasses on her Utoob channel.

“Who drove you here?” Mari asked before returning to suck at her husband’s nearby dick.

Jake’s father whooped and hollered and did ‘the wave’ harder than all the rest. Nine feet tall, his dick sprung out before him and every time he jumped to his feet it would sproing like a door stopper. Even while sitting, it wobbled thick and erect a good six inches above his thighs and Mari pumped at it, chasing it left-handed as he alternatively stood, sat, and knelt like he were in church. He led the chant, told the trumpets when to blow, pausing every few minutes to allow Mari a swallow.

“Oh, I drove myself.” Brittney pointed towards the spotless Tolsa neatly aligned in a specially marked parking space right next to the field. Traffic jammed up on both sides of the road, clogged for miles with people abandoning their vehicles to the elements in a haphazardly pile-up just trying to see the game. Somehow Brittney made it in record time, the cars parted in front of her.

“I got it with the scholarship.” Brittney tried not to be smug. It was just a casual thing, a college offering a full ride academic scholarship, student housing, personal chef, her choice of up to six body guards and a top of the line luxury vehicle. A fair offer, the college was sure to make a mint from the next four years of her life. They had talked about her on-campus housing in terms of acreage. The idea amused her more than she liked to admit.

“Wow, that’s incredible!” Mari enthused.

“Yeah, there was this weird bidding war for awhile. The other morning I had a real sit-down moment with myself. I stared myself in the mirror an’ just decided this thing was getting all a little too Machiavellian for my taste. So I went with my gut, MTI made a fair offer. There’s no reason to turn them down.”

“Well good for you. I knew you could do it.” Trilled Mari.

Before she could return to sucking off her husband, Jake’s father blew over her cheeks and neck. In moments her entire upper body was doused. Pearly pools raking her breasts, her chin, up and around her nose. Up into the dimples of her smile.

With her free hand Mari retrieved exactly one moist towelette from her cavernous purse and scrubbed herself clean in a flash. You would’ve never known had you not seen it yourself.

“Yeah, the offers were getting a little absurd.” A dean had offered her anything, anything if she would just look at him. His dick bruised and purple, a meat-stick pumping seed for her amusement. Brittney simply walked out.

“I’m sure you made the right choice.” Mari comforted.

Again, it felt weird having a normal conversation. Compliments from Lori always stung. When Lori said ‘Good job!’ or ‘Congratulations!’ she was usually showing Brittney off to some unknown parent. When Mari said it, she was polite and earnest. She seemed actually interested in what Brittney had to say. Curious about the girl her boy was fucking.

“Do you want a suck?” Mari said offering the cockhead of her husband like breakfast sausage.

“No thanks.” Brittney was still stuffed from earlier.

“Oh you should taste him when he gets going like this. It’s ridiculous—” But she was silenced by an upswing in the verbal madness crackling out of the high school commentator’s booth. Perched over the crowd, suspended by wooden beams and you could see the student volunteers straining, half outside of the open window, microphone held up to his mouth and sweating through his shirt—raving over the PA. Calling down God and vengeance and all manner of angry grotesque football mythology which Jake crudely bent over the anvil of change. Jake just kicked a 100 yard field goal out of the whole stadium which I guess isn’t supposed to happen. They were going to have to find a new game-ball . . .

“Brittney!” A heavy clap on the back nearly made her spit up her soda. Sputtering, Brittney turned to see the deliriously inebriated face of their principal, Miss Shelly.

“SoOo glad yous’s could make iet!” She slurred, her breath laced with cordials. The amber liquid sloshing around in her clear plastic cup did not smell like kid friendly apple juice but rather like some kind of industrial varnish. Much of it had been spilled in her initial greeting.

“Oh you know me. Go . . .” Brittney looked around for a mascot. Something anthropomorphic and fuzzy was out there on the sidelines doing cartwheels. “Wolves?”

“Dogs.” Mari corrected.

“Go dogs?” Somehow it didn’t feel right. They were the dogs?

“WOOO! DOGS!” Miss Shelly bounced in her seat. “Thas great. Thas so great. Uurrr . . you’re grate.” Her head fell back as she took in a long pull of from her thermos starring up at the stars.

Shelly’s eyes were glassy, her gaze wandering like a newborn calf over to the glistening spit-washed cockhead Mari polished with her mouth. Drooling and smiling. Brittney couldn’t help but feel at least a little betrayed the principal had chosen to represent the school at the football game rather than the STEM Championship—but whatever. She too was painted head to toe in the school colors and someone had clearly just finished all over her face.

Brittney had only ever exchanged polite nods before, usually as she was being presented for an award of one kind or another. Otherwise they had no reason to meet. Principal Shelly’s reputation as a stickler for the dress code meant she had no call to ever harass me over the length of my skirt, the color of my lipstick, the width of my bra straps, or if I was kissing boys at lunch behind the portables—instead of the amphitheater where students could fuck in public.

“Shouldn’t you be—” Brittney never even got to finish her sentence as whatever it was, whatever responsibility could be put to words Miss Shelly waved off. Miss Shelly felt great and was taking a long deserved vacation from responsibility.

Ever since Miss Shelly tried those nasal strips for her sleep apnea, she became a huge ‘Free the Nipple!’ advocate and found the whole experience incredibly liberating. There was something about breathing clearly, maybe the puffing up of the chest—several sizes each night—which made presenting her bare tits to everyone make perfect sense to the once over-bearing woman. The dizzying flood of oxygen to her brain was both frightening and fun! Several parents came to the school protest recent decisions to replace girl’s lunches with a physical barrier and gloryholes drilled into it. Only after a great deal of argument, was it eventually negotiated that girls would be limited to just three sucks a day—and that anyone could fuck Miss Shelly’s tits.

A bunch of people tried to escape. As student council president, it was Brittney’s job to champion the new policy. Her suggestion was to construct a stockade of milking stations where boys could serve out their detentions, an obvious solution to the rampant unsanitary oral sex overtaking bathrooms. Too many students were using hall passes as an excuse to finger themselves and suck off boys all day. Posters in the cafeteria with graphs of projected food waste had similar cartoon depictions of how much cum they were all collectively producing and how it was everyone’s responsibility to clean-up. There was even a song for it.

“Don’t you love to see the boys plaaaaay!” Miss Shelly dragged out in an intoxicated cackle.

Somehow, maybe in the lilt of her vowels or the way her tongue swept her lips, Britt keenly understood the drunken principal leaning on her shoulder specifically meant the way player’s body-tight uniforms stretched over raw muscle when she hissed plaaaaaaay. Brittney knew it like she could see into Shelly’s mind, through her skull and into the soft fatty tissue of her brain—and found that every part of it, leading from the nose, replaced with sweaty muscly men pounding her absolutely fucking senseless everyday with their maddeningly juicy cocks and her wet horny little pussy gobbling them up. Slurping them dry. Fitting them between her-

Brittney disentangled herself. “Miss Shelly—” Unwrapping the older woman’s arms from around her shoulders, “I think I see some students trying to cover themselves.”

Shelly let out a sigh like a deflated balloon. A leathery bellows blowing out it’s final breath. “Those troublemakers . . .” Reticent to move.

“Why don’t you go talk to them? Help them with their self-esteem?” Brittney palmed a small clutch of friendly pink capsules snagged from a tray outside the health academy earlier. It was a new program, a local hospital partnered with the school this semester to teach students the ins-and-outs of professional medicine with classes on acupuncture, herbal remedies, and loud tantric sex.

“Where did you get these? These are STRICKLY prohibited—”

“Shushhhh” I poked one through the pursed lips of her mouth. Her eyes tracking it cross-eyed all the way in. She sucked hard on my finger. I just had them manicured, for free of course. A half dozen squirming, moaning, blushing, cumming Asian ladies writhing in pleasure as they scrubbed dirt from my fingernails. It was a strange feeling to lay back and allow other beautiful women to cum insatiably at your slightest touch. Like poking sea anemones at the beach.

Miss Shelly’s mood brightened by a hundred degrees as she sucked at my fingers. Licking my calm clean of the crushed powder capsules. “I—” Lick “REALLY shouldn’t . . .” Lick.

“You should.” Brittney retracted her fingers from Shelly’s unresisting snatch, releasing her. Shelly had been so close, so horny and frustrated with need she could stomp. But with a slap on the ass, Shelly disappeared—charging off through the crowds after the dangerously prudish girls. Brittney relaxed back down onto the bench, satisfied watching her go.

To hear it, the principal’s day was filled to the brim with one-on-one and sometimes whole groups of distracted teenage boys having trouble adjusting to topless teachers and topless students and their growing pricks and the overwhelming scent of bitches in heat. Some met three, four times a day. Girls took birth control by the handful. In Spanish they were learning about all the traditional sexual positions of Mexico, which turned out to be a lot of missionary.

“She really does have wonderful boobs doesn’t she?” Mari was openly envious of the buxom Miss Shelly.

“She really does.” Shelly’s were out and swinging as she searched through the crowd. Huge tenacious knockers that bounced impossibly tight to the chest.

Brittney didn’t quite know how to feel about her principal’s new enthusiasm for sexual liberation. Sure, Shelly herself had beautiful full tits and there was a rumor among the boys that if you sucked on them hard enough milk came out—but Brittney was pretty sure that was just a myth. Not all girls shared the principals point of view. Some even jealously concealing their breasts, allowing no one but the school nurse to oil them or play with their nipples.

Animosity causes friction. Something had to be done to alleviate the disgusting amount of slut-shaming at school. Why just yesterday Brittney watched as an other girl had to be sent home in tears, all because she squirted everywhere from getting fucked in the ass.

It wasn’t even a real dick, it was a medical instrument. She had a serious medical condition. Her body was producing extra clits which of course had to be repeatedly stimulated dozens of times a day—yet those girls still shouted “SLUT!”. It sickened Brittney even to think about. They didn’t care the girl was actually really smart and funny and knew all sorts of weird old movies Brittney never heard of and was super good at eating pussy. Like, Brittney had forgotten how great old movies could be!

But the school had to come together on something. Brittney couldn’t just keep solving problems by having bullies tied up and forced to cum in front of everybody. Laughing at their naked bodies. Couldn’t just keep singling out individuals, strip them naked, and drive them so maddeningly horny they cum themselves in front of everyone until they beg you to stop. Pleading to make it stop, if they could just stop cumming for even a moment—just to catch their breath—but you just hold them there and crush them with pleasure until they’re screaming for you to stop but the cum keeps gushing out and they swear—oh they swear, they fucking beg you—they can’t cum anymore but they can. They all can.

There was too much . . . disunity.

“So what did you win from the chess tournament?” Mari asked politely, now that Shelly was gone.

“Oh yeah, I won a big over-sized check and everything. Two hundred thousand—” Brittney never got to finish her sentence.

Jake threw off an offensive tackle by raising the player over his head and tossing him off the field. At that moment—exactly as planned—two opposing players crashed into him from the front and behind, sandwiching him with hundreds of pounds of force knocking the wind out of him and knocking him roughly the ground. It was sickening to watch. The full force of two, two hundred pound boys barreling into his lower back. Seeing his spine reshape itself around the fist of their impact. It was the first time Jake had been laid out the whole game.

The ball bounced loose on the ground. Opposing colors scooped it and began to run.

Nobody knew what to do. There was chaos on the field. Their rivals had not been able to touch the football beyond ‘hike’ for the last quarter of the game! A rickety, beaten child clutched at it like forbidden egg or the sorcerer’s stone. With Jake crippled on the ground it was like holding the still beating heart of a mighty god. A fertile cocoon glowing with unimaginable power.

Ninety yards to go.

The opposing team’s parents, those still not mortally afraid for their children’s safety, merely wished to see their kids score. For their kids to do something, anything, and hope sprung amongst them like a weed. Paddling his skinny legs as fast as he could, shoe-laces flailing, shin-guards unfurled, half-mast. His teammates shoving and tugging and pulling him in the right direction. The sight made his team’s side wild with excitement. The boy was clearly injured.

“RUN! GET UP! RUNNNNN!! RUN YOU DUMB SON OF A BITCH!” All around her, people were screaming. For who or for what, it was all madness and it sounded like noise. A noise only a crowd can make. Howling in a thick slow torturous mob of roiling molasses. The sound of it a superheated plasma that flooded into your ears like molten gold.

Sixty Yards to go.

Rolling up to his feet, an other tackle ran headlong into Jake’s crouched position—staggering him. By the time Jake was able to raise up and sustain the full weight of the linemen hurled against him, the runner was nothing more than a spec in the distance. A notch in the horizon. He began to move.

Seeing him rise, the defenders began to break off, circling back. Throwing their bodies into his charge, each strike denting his nearest approach—knocking him off course like a ship which only turns in large arcs. Their teenage bodies thrown against an unstoppable machine. Their poor frames tripping up his in feet like chaff. A unintelligible animal ferocity beheld it’s tortured prey in those disappearing legs, blood thrumming through his in his veins, pounding in his heart—physically clenching inwards with dizzying contractions.

Thirty yards to go.

Each foot took shape in the dirt. Divots stabbed deep as a shovel. Hunks of earth and grass bit out of the ground. Him getting pummeled starboard side. Glancing blows in a terrific a naval bombardment. Like he was some grand old liner, twice as long as all the rest and easier to shoot. The first iron-clad.

Twenty yards to go.

“THAT’S MY BOY!” From over half the field behind, Jake closed the gap.

Ten yards to go.

The runner marched like a man convicted to it and a hush fell over the stadium. People already standing took to silently, reverently, raising their children up in their arms to see this runner pull one leg after another out of the mud. The air was madness and breathing it tasted like hot paint. A fuzzing static rose to a deafening pitch. Across craters and barbed wire, his uniform in tatters. His face that of an entire people, crying out for bloody vengeance.

It was only a second or two after the ref signaled ‘Touchdown’ did Jake manage to turn his body’s momentum away from the crowd. Rounding back, offering his congratulations to the prone unharmed body of his rival where the boy had collapsed inches over the line. Jake took a spot on the grass panting next to him, clearly just as staggered. The photo of his victorious face and Jake’s almost fatherly smile of pride made the front page of the local newspaper the very next day.

“THE GAME IS OVER! RETURN TO YOUR HOMES!” Barked the PA. There were a few minutes left on the clock, but no one cared. No one was listening.

There were no stopping the tide of human bodies as spectators stormed the field. The fence barring people from the grass was torn down in hunks. Mari peeled herself off her husband with lightning reflexes as he charged through the wooden barricade.

There are no video recordings of this or any other game that Jake ever played and it is for this reason he was soon dubbed the ‘Wilt Chamberlain’ of Football. Brittney cheered just as hard as all the rest. She actually really enjoyed the game. I mean, not entirely the way Jake played it. It was more a farce than anything else at this point. The underlying game though is tactical and crunchy in it’s own way.

They would have to invent a whole new sport for Jake. Engineer one from the ground up. Something that used his real talents.

“Whose car are you taking!” Mari yelled as the crowd vomited out from the bleachers onto the field. Jake’s head and torso standing feet above the rest.

“Mine!” Brittney yelled back, shielding her face as they fought through the throngs of wild fanatics, staying in the shadow of Jake’s Dad. There was just a crush of people. Shoulder to shoulder. Naked bits smacking together.

A circle formed around the players and their families, a line of defenders in riot gear. Among them were police and teachers and firemen and nurses and doctors and lawyers and men in hazmat suits. The crowd wanted in.

“DAD!” Their chests slamming together in a manly thunderclap. “Where’s Brittney?” He looked almost panicked scanning through the exuberant faces.

“WELL DONE!!!!” Jake’s Dad boomed in a smothering male baritone so oily black and silky smooth Brittney nearly wet herself with arousal.

Before his dad could get in another word, Brittney leapt into Jake’s arms, climbing up his body like a human jungle-gym to the top where she began to melt. Pouring down over him, knees straddling his shoulders. His head buried beneath her dress.

He drank from her like the Stanley Cup. Like from a goblet of victory, a champion’s cup. The holy gift, flowing with her oils—dripped down his chin. Brittney rode him high above the jumping churning cheering masses, all of them turned inwards looking at her. Screaming for her. All of them shouting and laughing and fucking and pushing their naked frenzied bodies into a single insatiable mass pumping their fists in unhinged celebration. His tongue and his lips suckling her honey, drowning him in it.

She allowed herself to be lowered. Brought down into the welcoming throngs. Her legs locked around his waist, feet barely linked up behind him. Her whole body snaking around his torso. Jake resting her gently into the long cool grass of the football field, underneath the midnight stars and hyper-bright halogens. The ground was hot but the grass silky cold, their breath blew vapor in each other’s face. The earth steamed.

“Brittney.” He growled like a lion. Her lion. A massive possessive affectionate creature wreathed in power. His body frightening and intoxicating.

“You were incredible tonight.” His head haloed in the night sky and stadium lights. Brittney remembered a rectangle of stars.

There was so much of him. Her hands could explore his body for days and kissing was something they learned how to do together. Brittney loved how their passion would accelerate into an inferno. Jake laid into her straight away. Sheering off all her stupid ridiculous clothing with monstrous swipes.

Jake’s Dad could only laugh. Mari rolled her eyes. Through the stalks of rutting classmates, Lori’s nude squealing body could be seen tossed above the mob, grasping onto the men like a lemur. Never touching the ground, swinging from branch to branch.

“BRITTNEY!” His breath a smokeless fire and smelling of honey. It caramelized the senses.

“I’m here.” Jake’s fingers were fucking magic. “I’m here babe.”

“BRITTNEEEY . . .” His growl was wolvish. Savage. The trunk of him steely and raging with strength. She could feel him throbbing through his pads and fumbled unbelting his uniform. Half unclothed, he her pinned to the ground—slobbering her with wet unfashionably horny kisses she returned just as eagerly.

Jake pushed forward blindly, his slick cock sliding up her past the belly-button, almost knocking on her sternum. Brittney could feel the heat of his balls like two beating hearts. It was slick and hot and fearfully humongous and Brittney had come to respect it’s power, luxuriating in the knowledge that she could overwhelm it. Outlast it. Envelope it completely.

As Brittney came, Jake pounding away inside her, she no longer felt quite so intimidated by the world. There was still so much she didn’t know, but taking it on didn’t seem so daunting. Whatever happened, however adults made the world work, Brittney was sure she could be a part of it. That she had a spot at the top of pyramid.

“Jaaake” She moaned, her chin braced against Jake’s shoulder. Her arms wrapping up around his back to cradle his head. “Oh Jake.” His body made her crazy. The way it was so big, so wide and steely firm. His skin like poison, it made her so horny her mind itched.

Jake couldn’t stop laughing, couldn’t stop feeling anything less than incredible. Brittney was so beautiful and his in his arms. She was so smart and so capable, so tender and all-devouring. She had the power to shut down reason, to block out the sun of his conscious mind like a demon temptress. Small. All-knowing. Replacing his thoughts with thoughts of her. The lovely, enchanted feeling of her body hot against his.

In his mind’s eye pussy writ large in inflatable pink cartoon letters. Hers was a door with a great big knocker on top that he wanted to open. Wanted to pound on her door, ring her knocker against it. To ring the doorbell again and and again. Press it down until the button turned red hot and sang like a teakettle. Ringing, again and again. Anyone home? Ringing, pressing her hot slick button between his thumb and forefinger. Riiiing hello?

They fucked raw, fucked bareback, fucked doggystyle. Fucked her while pulling her hair like the reigns of a horse. Her neighing and neighing and neighing uncontrollably. Cumming all the time.

There was no retreat. No backing down or going backwards. No loss but only forwards, only more. Jake came and it burned his soul. Like his whole body were dissolving in this infuriating bath of fizzy Coca-Cola. He came and he came and he came and there was no stopping. No pausing, no relapse—a painful continuous ignition of pure chemical overdose to the brain. Blowing the cum out of him with a fucking blowtorch.

She came, and then he came. Like a see-saw. In, then out. All in one fluid repeating motion. The glide in, the squishing sensational mind-blowing god-touching slide in, and the vertigo inducing magisterial withdraw. She had such a sense of control, of being on top-of-the-world as he left her. She could look down on the whole world and a breath a sigh that could change the seasons. At a word she could torch the desert or freeze the moon. She could crack you in half with a look.

“I love you . . .” She whispered.

A marching band broke like the morning dawn. The rapid fire clacking of drums and trill of the brass slicing through the din. Struggling voices muting their groans to hear it. The cursing and baton wailing receded, police sirens lacked any urgency. The music rose, growing louder—moving closer. Soon it was joined by strings, driving bass and passionate violins. The whole orchestra was here! Stomping and laughing and playing their hearts out. Her head on the ground Brittney could see a cheerleader backflip high above the crowd to “Ooooos!” and “Awwwws!”. Fireworks exploded all through the sky.

“Oh god, I love you.” Panting into his nape. Her cheeks wet with tears and sweat. Blushing so hard her face scorched against his skin. “I love you. Oh GOD I love you so much!”

Jake loved hearing it. Loved banging those words out of her as she never would in public. Could never just casually say the “L” word. Only now. Only like this did she say it and Jake loved that too.

“I love you too.” And then Jake shut her up with a kiss. Or else she woulda’ gone on and on like a leaky faucet. Moaning and gasping. Screeching through barred teeth. Him pounding her, making her cum. Massively dominating her with his body. Built like a fucking bull and almost as large. Her preening body twisting with pleasure beneath him.

Jake had never thought about playing football for MTI before.