Hi there, guys. It's Jordan here…

I have to admit that, when Zak came up with his Crew challenge at Mike's Koffee Kabin, I didn't take much notice at first.

I guessed it would be a five minute wonder, forgotten by everyone real soon.

Within a few days at most, I thought, we'd all be talking about Buzz Leboeuf's amazing new haircut or whether the hot new kid in Mrs Wallenberg's chemistry class really does have the biggest dick in the school.

But I was wrong.

Buzz could have had his whole head shaved to infinity and beyond - and the new kid could have had the schlong of King Kong himself - but it didn't seem to matter.

Because after we left the coffee shop I simply didn't see - or even get a phone call - from any of the boys for the next 48 hours. That was amazing. It had never happened before.

Everyone was up to something.

And soon I was too.

As I already told you, I'd worked out a pretty cool plan to lay one of the football team (and let me stress that word "one" - Spike may be a slut, but not me!).

I enrolled as a volunteer on the school paper and was soon promoted to chief sports reporter.

That wasn't too difficult. There were only two of us working on the sports pages.

Apart from me, there was just Biff Bradley, an ex-member of the football team who'd been retired after suffering a head injury.

Even before his accident on the field, Biff's relationship to written English was, I guess you could say, something like Boy George's to steel welding.

But afterwards it got even worse.

So chief sports reporter I became.

And I soon arranged to meet the football team to explain how I planned to increase the coverage they got in the paper.

I was due to talk to the guys at 6 o'clock after training the following week, but I made sure I was early.

To tell the truth - but I don't expect this to go any further, right? - I wanted to check out the team's locker room.

Y'know, ever since I was a young kid I've had a thing about jocks.

So I guess, over the past five or six seasons, I've gotten to know - and feel, and inhale, and jerk off over - just about every team member's underwear by hanging around the deserted locker room while they're out on the field.

It's a bit like those food and wine experts my mom likes to watch on TV - even you blindfolded me, I could still tell a pair of Chris Maguire's jockeys from Anthony Polonsky's Y-fronts at 10 yards by the aroma alone.

"Ah, yes… I'm getting gooseberry…

"With just a hint of blueberry…

"And a big, big shot of boycum…

"That must be Anthony!"

I hung around in the locker room for 15 minutes or so, really getting my rocks off on those used shorts - and, at the same time, making a mental note to investigate one or two things at a later date.

What detergent was Mrs Goldberg using that brought Sol's undies up so sparkling white?

And, potentially much more interesting, how come there were definite traces of Paul O'Bannion's cum (unmistakably spicy - I think his mom must cook a lot of Thai food) on Dave Lee's boxers?

What had those two hot kids been up to together?

Then I heard the team coming off the field after practice.

Not all of them came back to the locker room, though.

"Yeah, it's weird, man", said Dave Lee, a hung blond with, reputedly, the dick of an elephant - but, sadly and unquestionably, a face to match.

"Billy, Troy, Gary and Kenny said they had to rush off to meet Spike and some Chinese guy."

My heart sank. Now I knew for sure that at least one of my opponents was already ahead of me in the contest. I'd have to move my own plans up a gear.

"Look, guys", I said. "You know why I'm here. Now that I'm head honcho on the paper I want to see lots more stories about the team.

"OK, you may not be playing so good lately - but, if we can get you more support, you'll start to feel a lot better about yourselves and then you'll play better too."

The guys nodded in agreement. It was hard to deny that they'd been having a bad season and that their supporters had dwindled away to virtual invisibility.

In fact, on a Saturday night you'd probably find more customers at Mike's Koffee Kabin than fans at the game.

"So the first thing I'm going to do", I continued, "is to put a big photospread of you in next week's issue.

"But not the usual stuff on the field. No, I want our readers to go beyond that - to see the real you.

"Your hopes and dreams… Your fantasies…

"I want them to see you as real, warm, loveable guys."

Maybe I'd gone a bit over the top. After all, a 240 pound man-mountain with a scar-covered body topped by a face like a battered pumpkin probably isn't too used to being thought of as loveable.

But in fact, right at that moment, the boys reminded me of nothing so much as thrashed puppy dogs. As footballers they were so down and so starved of admiration - or even respect - that they were just plumb grateful for any kind words at all.

My little speech seemed to revive them.

They smiled.

They laughed.

They started taking off their sweaty clothes to head for the showers.

With a flourish I produced my dad's new digital camera from my Versace bag. (OK, I know it might have given the game away, but I guessed that these boys wouldn't know a designer bag from one out of a drugstore.)

"Hey, guys."

They all turned.

Putty in my hands.

"I'm gonna start on this thing right now.

"Y'know what I'm goin' to do? I'm gonna focus on the work… the sheer, hard work… the sweat… the tears… the effort that you guys put into the game, even when things may not be goin' too good.

"Guys, I'm gonna make you heroes."

Of course, I'd lied.

I'd said that I'd focus on the work.

But dad's camera's wide-angle allowed me, without anyone else being the wiser, to focus on one or two rather more specialised areas, if you follow me.

Twenty minutes later I had amassed a pretty impressive collection of material.

Sure enough, I'd taken plenty of shots that I could use in the school newspaper. I could see the headline already: Reinvigorated team rises to the challenge.

I smiled.

I had more than one shot where the very same headline could be used, in quite a different sort of context, in quite a different sort of publication.

I began to think that, once I'd printed off some of the photos, my journalistic career might well begin to take an entirely unexpected new path.

Contributing Editor to Hung Hunks, maybe?

Or staff reporter for 101 Jock Cocks?

Or even Picture Editor for Teen Golden Showers? (Who'd ever have guessed that sweet looking Ray Watson could have been so gross in a public shower?)

Once the guys were out of the shower and towelled down, I got them to sit on the locker room benches.

I had a few more things to say.

And, to be honest, I just liked looking at them - even Dave Lee the elephant boy, provided I kept my eyes at a somewhat lower angle.

"Well, guys, that was great. But it's just the start. We've got to keep up the interest in you.

"I want stories about this team in the paper every week. I want it to be the thing people talk about in school, at home or wherever they are.

"You are coming off the back page. You're going to be the headline front page news from now on.

"You will be hot.

"And to make it work, I've got a plan."

And, as I explained to the boys how I was going to do it, I sensed that they just couldn't believe what they were hearing.

© Rob Maynard/HMBoys.com 2002 - 2007

Take a look at our pictures, videos, stories and more...