As it turned out, the first contestant in the Inter-Crew Cock Contest who actually got anywhere was Spike.

It was pretty easy for him, I guess.

Fund-raising for the football team wasn’t exactly an easy thing to do - and, as a result, wasn’t too popular an activity either.

So Spike had no difficulty at all in persuading them to take him on.

And he had a ready-made idea too.

Spike was a big movie buff - less because he liked movies than because the darkness of the local theatre gave him plenty of opportunities to get into the pants of guys he picked up and took there.

One of the movies he’d liked best recently was The Full Monty, the story of a bunch of out-of-work English miners who take up a new career as male strippers.

And that’s what Spike proposed to do to raise cash for our high school football team. He’d put on a show, though even he admitted that Judy Garland or even Mickey Rooney he was not.

Spike chose his victims carefully.

He ruled out the brighter team members who might catch on to what he was up to.

Equally he avoided the grosser looking ones - after all, the whole object of the exercise was to seduce one of them and, if possible, Spike actually wanted to enjoy the experience.

In the end that left four of the guys who qualified as both hot and dim.

And Spike thought that four was a pretty good number for what he had in mind.

The following Saturday he got them together at his house.

Spike’s mom and dad were pretty pleased at that. Secretly they’d begun to worry about a son of 19 with pink, spiky hair who spent most of his spare time taking young skateboarders up to his room. It was reassuring that his new friends, by comparison, were pretty normal looking boys.

If only they’d known the truth.

Up in his room Spike told the guys to make themselves comfortable, handed round a few beers and stuck The Full Monty into the VCR (though his plan almost unravelled right at the start when he nearly put Barracks Butt Buddies into the machine instead. Even these jocks, Spike reckoned later, might have been able to tell the difference).

Two hours - and several beers - later the guys knew what they were expected to do. In fact, much to Spike’s surprise, they seemed pretty keen on the idea.

The nudity didn’t seem to faze them much. After all, they spent so much time showering together that they’d probably forgotten what each other actually looked like with clothes on.

And the clincher was when Spike suggested that appearing in a raunchy show was going to be a great way to meet hot girls.

“You’ll be turning them on so much that after the show there’ll be a queue of wet pussy lining up at the stage door for you guys”, he said.

(Spike didn’t actually know - and had absolutely no desire to find out - what “wet pussy” actually was. He’d just noted it down as a phrase that always had an amazing effect on the stars of Barracks Butt Buddies. Though quite why, within just a few minutes of hearing it, they invariably forgot completely about the prospect of pussy and were spreading their legs for the hot sergeant instead, he’d never quite managed to work out.)

The guys had assumed that taking off their clothes would be a pretty easy thing to do until they watched the movie. But afterwards they agreed with Spike that they needed to think, as far as they were able, about things like music, costumes and props.

Spike told them he had an idea and loaded them right there and then into his dad’s car. It was one of those small European models and clearly hadn’t been designed to take four muscle bound jocks as well as Spike the driver.

Fifteen minutes later Spike and the guys drew up at a small store front with blacked out windows in one of the seedier parts of town.

Quickly Spike hustled all the guys out of the car and inside.

The boys were stunned.

All around the walls were racks full of magazines and videos. Schoolgirl sugar, Wide open Wendy, Hot housewives, Lesbi-lovers and - way up on the top shelf though well within reach of the jocks, none of whom were under 6’4” - somewhat more specialist reading including Bondi babes bondage (an Australian import) and Rubber ring monthly.

“You guys wait here a few minutes”, ordered Spike.

“I need to talk to the manager about your outfits.”

When Spike returned after ten minutes he was accompanied by a small, grubby, chain-smoking Chinese guy in his 60s who looked just about as seedy as the shop itself.

As indeed he ought to have. This was Mr Hung Lo, probably the most notorious member of the town’s gay community.

It had long been rumoured that only a cousin with distant connections to the triads had protected Mr Hung from the attentions of the local police department. It was said, in fact, that they’d been made aware that any undue attention paid to him might well result in their unexpected appearance as sweet and sour pig on a Chinatown menu.

Not that Mr Hung hadn’t given the police good reason to take an interest in his activities.

First there was the scandal of the concealed video camera in the shower block at the County Reformatory for Wayward Boys.

And that, of course, was merely the prelude to the even more painful (in every sense) episode of the three boy scouts and the “Big Black Bobby special edition latex dildo” (Let Big Black Bobby batter your butt too!)

When it came to Mr Hung’s misdemeanours, both those unfortunate incidents were widely believed to be merely the very small tip of a very large iceberg - one even larger, it was readily conceded, than Big Black Bobby’s celebrated schlong which, had it been deep frozen and set adrift in the North Atlantic, would have sunk not just the Titanic but the whole of the US marine fleet.

Spike and Mr Hung had re-entered the store area so quietly that none of the jocks noticed them come in. In fact, they probably wouldn’t have noticed under any circumstances at all, so engrossed were they in examining the merchandise.

While Billy Hopkins and Troy LePhlegm were comparing notes on Tammi’s Tuesday trick, Gary Elliott was giving his rapt attention to Stretch that pussy, bitch! and Kenny Taylor just couldn’t take his eyes from the photographs in Thai ladyboys uncovered (at which point it occurred to Spike that he had always had doubts about Kenny).

And all the boys had immense bulges in the front of their jeans, a fact of which which Spike and Mr Hung were more than fully aware.

Spike clapped his hands to get the boys’ attention.

“Hey guys, Mr Hung here has kindly agreed to sponsor the football team by supplying your costumes and props free of charge.

“Isn’t that great?”

The boys - oblivious as yet as to where this might be leading - grinned.

“So now we have to get you kitted out.

“Billy”, Spike continued, indicating the guy with the biggest bulge in his pants. “Just go into the fitting room now with Mr Hung. He’ll have to take a few measurements first.”

Ten minutes later, with Troy, Gary and Kenny still too engrossed in the magazines and videos to notice, Spike gently pushed open the connecting door to the fitting room.

There, in the middle of the room, stood Troy. All his street clothes were scattered over the floor and all he was wearing was the tiniest, tightest little gold lamé posing pouch that Spike had ever seen. It even had a cute, bright red tassel at centre front.

Not, though, that centre front actually needed any more attention drawn to it at this particular time.

Billy’s posing pouch was actually so tight that the tip of his still-stiff dick was poking right out of the top of it while, simultaneously, one of his balls kept popping out of the side.

Mr Hung was doing his best - very slowly and carefully - to try to fit everything in to such a small package, but to little avail.

And, as Spike listened carefully, he could hear Mr Hung speaking very quietly to Billy.

“I’ve never known anything like it, my boy.

“I guess it’ll have to be the extra-extra-extra-large size after all.”

And, at that very moment, a thin line of watery spittle dripped from the corner of Mr Hung’s wizened mouth and dribbled all the way down his grubby chin.

Copyright: HMBoys.com/ Rob Maynard 2001 - 2007

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