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Coach's Formula, The
|That same Saturday, around the same time…
The woods were momentarily hushed as the birds and animals grew silent at his passing. They paused cautiously sensing a being more powerful than them walking through the woods. A predator of the highest order that had no equal in their domain.
The predator paused and looked down.
He saw strange tire marks in the dirt.
“Those aren’t mine,” he growled, in a deep, powerful voice.
Rather than pausing at the nearby cabin, the predator kept walking determinedly until he came upon the storage shed that was located further back behind the cabin. The door was open, which was itself a problem. The predator entered the large shed, turning sideways to get through the narrow door to enter the structure, as the door was too narrow for him.
He surveyed the inside as the last rays of afternoon sunlight filtered in through the grimy windows. The shed had obviously been ransacked. Empty boxes were strewn around the room and empty cans were everywhere.
The predator reached down to pick one up and smelled it, taking a good long whiff.
“Mr. Martin,” he said, angrily, “What have you done?”
He crushed the can involuntarily in his grip, letting a tiny ball of aluminum fall to the floor.
The predator turned back outside, following a trail. Pausing from time to time as the wind blew, as if following something in the air that no one could see. He stopped when he reached the tire marks. This time he knelt down to examine them closely.
“And it appears that you had help.”
He paused for a moment, considering all the possibilities.
“This will be interesting,” he finally said smiling.
Then he got up and went back to his shed. The cans were clearly no longer safe.
* * *
The following day, Sunday, in the wee hours of the morning before dawn…
Brandon felt the most pleasurable sensations still flowing through his body. He felt so alive and it was an orgasmic experience just to move his muscles. It was like he was on ecstasy or something. He hadn’t yet had a minute's sleep.
He was still at Mark’s place. It was a mess. He’d never had so much sex at one time. It felt like he could go for hours and Mark liked it rough. And he was big enough to take Brandon’s cock without too much pain.
Yes, today was the day that Brandon was going to introduce Mark to the cans.
Not that he was a fucking queer, mind you. Brandon was perfectly clear in his mind on that point. Abso-fucking-lutely not. He just liked muscle and spirit and Mark had both. Today would be a good day.
Mark lay on the bed next to him. He was lying face down, totally exhausted, and with his head turned softly to one side, lightly snoring. Brandon followed his body with his eyes, drinking in his wiry, lightweight musculature, imagining what he would look like filled out with super-heavyweight muscle instead.
Brandon felt like he could finally sleep, his eyes began to close on their own…
He jerked awake at the sound of breaking glass and a car alarm going off. His own.
He jumped out of bed, grabbing and putting on his shorts at the same time. He hurried to the driveway in the front of the house ready to pulverize whoever had damaged his precious baby.
There was no one there and the street was dark and quiet, other than the car alarm going off. The front windshield had been smashed in, as had the headlights and taillights. It looked the act of random vandals. But then Brandon noticed something sitting on the dashboard. He silenced the car alarm with his keys and walked over to pick up a gift wrapped box. He ripped it open without thinking of what might be inside, but all he found was an envelope addressed to him. The printing had been done with a laser printer, so there was no evidence to identify the sender. Inside was note, also done with a laser printer. It read: “I know. Meet me at 3pm behind the school.”
Brandon crumpled up the paper and the box enraged. Before he knew what he was doing he slammed his fist down hard, driving it into the engine, crumpling the hood.
“What’s wrong?” asked a concerned voice behind him.
Brandon was seeing red, but he calmed when he turned around and saw Mark staring at him.
“We have to get ready,” said Brandon Small without any explanation, “The little runt ratted me out.”
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