The four jocks: Adversaries

No one said anything, so Greg looked down again and proceeded to read from the typed instructions. “In each round, the player whose turn it is, or host, reads a card and each of the other players answers in clockwise order. The host then determines which answer is most desirable and kisses the person who gave that answer, after which it will become official.” He glanced up at Tom, but his nemesis was too busy staring holes into Greg to react—or maybe he’d heard and didn’t object to an aggressive liplock with an inferior being like himself. Greg had long suspected Tom was a latent queer, and the quick leer he’d just gotten when he’d set the stakes hadn’t done anything to dissuade him. Will’s green-painted face, on the other hand, had developed a sharp groove between the exaggerated brows.

Greg returned to the sheet. “No round can be undone,” he read slowly, an ominous tone creeping into his voice unasked-for. He felt that chill up his spine again. Already this was feeling like more than a game. He exchanged a look with Harry, his dark blue eyes set with determination to see this through.

Greg went back to finishing the instructions. “The host rotates with each turn to the right,” he read. “For best results, play while lightly intoxicated.” He omitted the very last instruction, the trigger for whether the players would be aware of the effects of the game. Some gut instinct had told him he wanted the bastards opposite him to know exactly what was happening to them, and he was already certain he had made the right choice.

“Good thing I forced those beers on you two then,” Tom jeered. He swayed very slightly, betraying perhaps his own state of brewification, but his compelling green-and-brown eyes remained riveted on Greg.

“Last chance to back out,” Harry said calmly.

Tom’s response was predictably alpha. “Let’s do this,” he barked, snatching up the stack of cards. Greg nodded silently. Placing the instruction sheet in the box he set the whole thing aside, leaving nothing but a few inches of chilly basement air between him and Tom. Yanking the ribbon off the cards and casting it aside, Tom expertly shuffled them a few times before squaring the deck and reading aloud from the first card.

“What attribute is the person opposite you too proud of and should be taken away?” He looked up at Greg with an evil grin that made Greg’s stomach flutter in alarm. I’m opposite you, dickhead, but you don’t get a play while you’re the host, Greg thought. No way to get me on this one. Right? Then he remembered Will was sitting opposite Harry—which meant they could do something to him. He reminded himself sternly this was just a game, though it sure as fuck felt real, and as though everything was on the line. He rested his left hand on Harry’s thigh in reassurance, and felt it flex in response.

They all looked at Will, who was glowering across the table at Harry. He seemed reluctant to speak, as though actually giving an answer would mean he approved of something he obviously thought was a waste of time. Greg was agonizing—what would he pick? If he said something awful… no, it’s just a game!

Finally, Will curled his lip and spat, “He thinks he’s so fucking cute.”

Greg frowned. Was that his answer? But Tom had already turned his intimidating gaze on him, waiting for Greg to give an answer. He realized belatedly he was unprepared—not that it mattered, because Tom wasn’t going to choose him anyway, not on this round. “His ability to fuck like a god,” he said, just to say something provocative. Tom smirked.

They turned to Harry, who was eyeing Will thoughtfully. His eyes settled on the green-daubed orbs on full display thanks to his costume, not that they were often out of sight—Will loved showing off and was often shirtless even outside the dorm. “His pecs,” Harry said, with finality. Will nodded with a sneer, as if to say, Damn right, fucker!

“And now I pick, right?” Tom said. Without waiting for an answer he turned toward his hulking buddy and, grabbing him by the back of the neck, slid in for a full-on snog lasting close to a minute. Greg watched in astonishment, half turned on despite himself. When they broke the kiss, Tom tossed a shit-eating grin at Greg and Harry, leaving Will to wipe his mouth angrily and glare at his friend.

Then Tom’s gaze caught on Harry and seemed to do a double-take. “What the fuck?” he growled. Will followed his gaze and stared at what he saw in what could only be called utter dismay.

With great trepidation, Greg turned to see what has happened to his friend—only to gasp in surprise. Sure enough, Harry’s pinup-boy looks had been swept away. Instead, the lines of his face had been reshaped, firming his jaw, shifting his cheekbones, sprinkling faint dark stubble over slightly darker, more rugged skin, and thickening and softening the blondness of his hair… all of which resulted in a Harry who, while not at all “cute,” was now devastatingly handsome. Those dark blue eyes turned to meet Greg’s, and felt a swell of attraction as he took in this ultramanly version of his friend. It was like he was the result of some visual artist’s attempt to deliberately evoke the most attractive qualities of all men and distill them into a single individual, with results that were nothing short of captivating. I’m going get to kiss him at some point, he thought, and the idea made his dick swell and jump in anticipation. His hand was still on Harry’s thigh, and the feel of his skin and muscle through the thin fabric of Harry’s loose jeans felt like warmth stealing into him.

He realized there was a bit of concern in those mesmerizing eyes, though it seemed partly allayed already by Greg’s reaction. “You look amazing,” Greg said truthfully. Harry grinned, and his smile was so breathtaking Greg’s heart sizzled. I should just kiss him now and be done with it, he thought, slightly dazed.

“Interesting,” Tom said. They turned to look at their opponents. Will looked nauseated, obviously feeling betrayed that his answer had been twisted in such a perverse fashion, but Tom was eyeing Harry shrewdly and nodding to himself. Fuck, Greg thought. He’s definitely going to find a way to use this game to his advantage. Well, he and Harry would just have to do the same.

Then Harry nudged him and nodded his chin silently toward Will. Greg looked again and saw what he hadn’t before: Will’s viridescent pecs, already impressive nearly to the point of disproportionate thanks to years of beyond-obsessive weight training, were very obviously a size or two larger than before, hanging heavily over his green-smeared abs and casting a pair of dark shadows over the ridges and cuts. So far Will himself was too busy scowling at Harry to have noticed, but Greg figured it was only a matter of time. He would definitely pick up on his increased size the next time he tried to put on a shirt, if he ever did such a thing. That might be fun to watch, Greg mused to himself.

How had that happened, though? If Will’s pecs had gotten bigger, that meant… what? Will’s answer had been the one that was picked, and the result indicated on the card had been implemented—Harry’s pretty-boy cuteness had been “taken away.” Did that mean… did that mean that in every round, the opposite of what the card said happened for the unpicked answers? That had to be it—instead of Will’s pecs being “taken away,” Harry’s answer had been reversed and Will’s pecs had been enhanced! That was a wrinkle he sure hadn’t expected—one that might have a lot of unexpected and possibly unwanted consequences.

As if in response to that thought, with a jolt he remembered his own answer. He exchanged a quick look with Harry, then they both turned to take in the good-looking, aesthetically built football bully opposite them. Fortunately, Greg was pretty sure the smugness Tom was currently exhibiting had only to do with him pondering the possibilities of how he might change reality now that the game had been proven capable of doing so. Well, if he hasn’t figured out I just made him even more of a sex god, I’m sure as fuck not going to tell him, Greg thought.

Tom handed the cards to Harry, since he was the player to his left. He’s actually paying attention, Greg thought uneasily. “Here you go, hot stuff,” Tom said, offering the reimagined swimmer a cocky grin.

Harry took the cards silently, swapping the current card to the back and reading the next one aloud. When he spoke, his voice was a tone or two lower than Greg expected and a shade more resonant. Even his voice was less “cute” and more handsome! Greg wanted to listen to him speak all day.

“What attribute does the person on your right have,” Harry read, “that the person on your left should have instead?” He looked up and met Greg’s gaze at that last word. Yeah, that “instead”… that was a weapon.

Sure enough, Tom’s smile was malicious as he looked at Harry. “The ability to swim,” he said immediately.

Will huffed in appreciation. “Yeah, wouldn’t mind taking that,” he said, eyeing Harry darkly. Greg shook his head. Did they think there was any chance Harry would choose Tim’s answer? Even if the other responses were all stupid, that still wouldn’t happen.

Will realized it was his turn and took a quick perusal of Tom. Then he turned to Greg and Harry with a slow grin. “Lactose intolerance.”

Tom snorted a laugh. “Oh yeah, it’s bad,” he told Greg. “You’ll enjoy it a lot, jocklet.”

“As if,” Greg said defiantly. Assuming Harry chose him, he was trying to keep up with the potential reversals for the answers that weren’t chosen. So… Tom’s lactose intolerance would get worse, and Will wouldn’t be able to swim. At all? He wondered. Maybe it depended on whether Will could swim now, or some other factor they hadn’t figured out yet. Neither reversal was of imminent use to them, unless an aquifer burst and this place started flooding. He looked around, thinking the underground space was eerie enough that it was disturbingly easy to picture such a thing happening.

Belatedly he remembered it was now his turn. He considered Will, the player to his right, a moment, weighing his options. Finally he said, “Height.” The single terse word felt good to say—but then he realized that that might not be specific enough and quickly added, “Being ten inches taller than me.”

Will narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth at Greg, then at Harry, as if to defy him to choose that answer. Greg cockily turned to Harry for the kiss, positive he’d spun the turn in his favor—but even as he did so he caught a flash of movement as Tom jumped up suddenly, lunging for Harry to take the kiss for himself!

Fortunately, Harry’s reflexes were good enough for him to throw up his free hand just in time, his palm landing on Tom’s cheek as he blocked the larger man and turned him aside. Then, even as he thrust Tom back toward the bench, forcing Tom and Will both to grab the sturdy table to steady themselves, Harry turned to Greg, leaned in, and solemnly kissed him. It was hard and deep, in a way that seemed crafted to stiffen Greg’s cock beyond the ability to ever soften again. Throughout the kiss he was sure he could feel Harry’s thigh shifting under his hand.

Greg broke free from the brief but intense make-out sooner than he wanted, eager to see the results of the turn. He was not disappointed. Crazy-handsome Harry was now crazy-handsome, extra-tall Harry. It was a good thing he always dressed in loose clothes, Greg thought, panting lightly as he looked his roommate over, as these seemed not to have changed with the body underneath. The white shirt, still baggy, now failed to completely cover his longer torso, leaving an inch of flat belly on display, and a quick glance under the table told him the ankles were similarly exposed. Nice.

Pleased with his work, Greg squeezed Harry’s thigh and turned to look at their antagonists, thrilled he could sense Harry’s larger form next to him even when as he checked out the remaining consequences of his answer.

Will was still ridiculously muscular (especially when it came to his now-massive pecs), still shirtless, and still green. What he wasn’t anymore was loomingly, ludicrously tall, which he had been up to this moment even sitting down. Now he was Greg’s height at best, maybe a little less, and even though he seemed to have kept all his muscle mass, giving him a denser, more compressed look, the loss of height still cut his usual intimidation factor in half—even without the additional knowledge that this version of Will would flail helplessly in any body of water he couldn’t stand up in.

He checked for Tom’s reaction. The entitled asshole quarterback was taking his buddy’s transformation in thoughtfully, seemingly more impressed by what the game could do than he was devastated on his friend’s behalf. Will himself was livid. “That’s not fair!” he screamed, pointing at Harry. “He shouldn’t be able to—he can’t pick an answer that benefits him!”

“Like you wouldn’t do the same thing,” Harry said calmly, handing Greg the cards. Greg took them with a shiver of anticipation. So many ways for all this go off the rails, he thought. His heart pounding, he slipped Harry’s card to the back of the deck and, ignoring the still-fuming Will, spoke the text on the new top card, fighting to keep his voice steady as he did so.

“Who should the person to your left urgently lust for on sight?” he read. He stared at the small black letters for a long moment, trying to psych this one out and all it might entail. So many ways to go off the rails…

Harry, however, seemed untroubled. He was giving Tom a crooked smile. “Himself,” he said.

“Ooh, nice one,” Greg said. “The ultimate unrequited love.”

“I can requite myself just fine,” Tom chuckled. Greg wasn’t sure that was how it worked, and he was kind of looking forward to seeing Tom staring helplessly into a mirror, all horned up and desperate to ravish the man he saw there. He decided not to say anything.

Tom was already considering Will. “You think I should say ‘me’?” he asked himself aloud. “I’ll say ‘me’.”

Fireplug Will finally broke off from trying to incinerate Harry with his eyes and looked over at Tom in dismay. “What? I’m not a fag, asshole!” he objected.

“You will be if Greg picks my answer,” Tom said calmly.

“It’s tempting,” Greg admitted. Harry snickered.

“Assholes!” Will raved, throwing up his hands.

“Your turn, Will,” Greg said.

“I know! Fuck!” He glared at Greg, crossing his arms over his expanded pecs—clearly he hadn’t noticed their boost in size from Tom’s turn. “I can’t say ‘Harry’ ‘cause he’d want that, and they’re probably already fucking anyway.” Greg bit his lip and tried not to look at his always hot and now extra-hotified roommate. “And I sure as fuck don’t want him boning for us.”

“Say something,” Greg prompted.

“I dunno. Kenny Chesney!”

“What?!” Tom exclaimed, while Harry and Greg burst out laughing. “Kenny Chesney? What the hell?”

“It was the first name I thought of!”

“Kenny Chesney was the first name you thought of?” Tom repeated in disbelief. “Seriously? Greg’s gay already! Why didn’t you pick a girl celebrity, like, I dunno, Britney Spears?”

“I dunno, I bet a lot of gay guys bone for Britney,” Greg said dryly, still chuckling. Impulsively he stood, reached across the table and pulled a surprised Tom into, as it turned out, a very nice kiss. Tom quickly forgot his pique and got into the swing of things, offering Greg his tongue and showing him he knew exactly what to do with it. He tasted like beer, but then so had Harry, and his smell was mainly the good kind of sweat—the kind that made you think about licking salty skin in sensitive places.

After a few moments of this he broke the kiss and dropped back onto his bench, grinning at how pleased with himself Tom looked and at the expression of incredulity on Harry’s face. “He is a sex god,” he muttered, and was intrigued by the considering look Harry gave to Tom at that.

Greg squared the deck and plopped it in the table in front of Will, who suddenly seemed to be very concerned with not looking at Tom. Greg grinned—he wondered if Will’s cheeks were pinking from the huge, unquenchable lust he now had for his friend. He had to be majorly boned right now. When Tom glanced at Will’s lap and bugged his eyes in surprise, Greg couldn’t help barking a laugh. “Your go, shortcakes,” he said to Will.

“Don’t call me that!” Will shouted, half-rising out of his chair in rage. He seemed to realize showing everyone his crotch just then was probably not a good idea and dropped back down, grabbing the cards and staring at them in a furious sulk. Tom, probably as much to egg him on as anything, put a hand on his massive shoulder, but Will shook it off with what sounded like a whimper.

While Will was stewing over the cards, Harry slipped his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a picture to show Greg. When he saw it was Kenny Chesney he snorted and feigned a full-body shiver of repulsion, which made Harry grin. The truth was more like he had zero attraction for the guy—like, absolute zero. So the reversal of “urgent lust” in this case seemed to be not so much hate or revulsion as disinterest, which kind of made sense to him.

He glanced at Tom. He’d kind of figured the guy was kind of into himself before, so what effect would not being into himself have on his personality? Would he be calmer and not so cocky—or would be that much quicker to lust for others and act on it?

Will had finally calmed enough to announce his question, though his enunciation still bristled with anger, like he was listing all the people he hated in the world and exactly what they had done to him. “What attribute,” he snapped out, “should the person opposite you have three times as much of?” He slammed the deck on the table. “This is so stupid.” He glared at Greg. “Answer! Now!”

Greg blinked and looked at Tom. “Um, love and compassion,” he blurted. Shit, that was lame, he thought.

Tom raised a saucy eyebrow. “Oh, I have plenty of that,” he purred.

“I’ll bet,” Greg scoffed.

Will ignored them and fixed his flinty gaze on Tall ‘n’ Hot Harry, his jaw set as though preparing to bite into concrete. “Answer! Now!”

“Whoa,” Harry said, leaning back from Will’s pulsing fury. “I’m going to go with anger management.” Greg huffed in amusement, though his stomach tightened a second later when the reversal if and when Harry didn’t get picked occurred to him—Will three times as angry was a genuinely frightening prospect.

Will pursed his lips and turned to Tom, but didn’t say anything. Tom didn’t look at him, which the lust-furious Will probably hated and was grateful for all at once. Instead, Tom was watching Greg with an expression Greg didn’t like at all. He drew out the suspense a beat, too, before giving his answer. “Big… constantly boned… cock,” he said at last, smug victory dripping from every word.

Greg stared blankly at him for a second, then all at once he got it. He couldn’t swim like that, not with… His jaw dropped slightly, and Tom’s grin got even wider as he saw the understanding dawn. Yeah, you’re fucked, buddy.

“You dick,” Greg said, with feeling. Tom just beamed at him.

What happened next took them all by surprise. With the speed of a raptor Will jumped up, grabbed Greg by the chest of his tight red muscle shirt, and pulled him in for a searing kiss. A few seconds in, however, Greg realized it wasn’t just him and Will mashing mouths—Tom had jumped up and inserted himself into the kiss as well, turning it into a hot and salacious three-way. Will tried to turn away from Tom’s questing mouth, but the cocky quarterback was persistent and Will, in the throes of unslakable lust for his friend, succumbed and let him all the way in.

Greg was just about to pull back and let them make out on their own for a while when he abruptly remembered about the live grenade that was Harry’s potentially unchosen answer. Hurriedly he reached back blindly and, grabbing his hunky roommate by the shoulder, all but bodily hauled him into the increasingly messy smooch. Harry seemed to get Greg’s intent and threw his own mouth into the fray, and for several seconds all four of them were kissing, the basement room spinning slowly around them like a drunken carousel ride, until the megasnog inevitably split apart into Will and Tom making out on one side of the table, hands frantically groping each other as they did so, and Greg and Harry eagerly doing the same on the other.

This went on for quite a while, until Greg and Harry were distracted by loud grunting coming from the other couple. They looked over in surprise, lips and tongues still buzzing with pleasure, to see the two football jocks holding each other tight and kissing with real passion, until the compact, green-tinted muscle-man stiffened and broke the kiss with a roar. His purple pants abruptly bloomed with a huge spread of dark wetness near the left hip, the sudden flood of cum only serving to making the thick, heroic rod underneath that much more obvious. Tom, meanwhile, was smiling at the man he’d just made cream spectacularly in his pants with what looked like genuine fondness and affection, holding Will close and tenderly kissing his sweaty, Hulk-hued neck and cheekbones. Three times the love and compassion might just make for a very different Tom, Greg thought, watching the scene in amazement. Hopefully his shitty friends would either accept him or make room for a nicer, less douchey crowd.

Greg was thinking of losing himself in Harry’s embrace again as the taller man leaned down and whispered in Greg’s ear, sending tingles down Greg’s spine. “Am I feeling down there what I think I’m feeling down there?”

Greg sighed in resignation. “I’m afraid so,” he said. His Speedo days were definitely over, though the steady zing he was feeling from being so turned on all the time that he was constantly (and hugely) boned made him feel like it was almost a fair trade. Maybe his hubris had been as great as Tom’s, and they’d both gotten their just desserts. He’d have to think about that, the next time he could distract himself from how horny he was.

“I see,” Harry whispered, and Greg could hear the smirk in his voice. “So does that mean you’re about to emulate Will and make three giant wet spots in your pants?”

In my shirt, more like, he thought—he really was very hugely boned. The “big” part of Tom’s answer had been very generously interpreted, not to mention everything else that had changed down there in his suddenly crowded pants. He craned his head back to look up at his friend. “I think I can wait till we get to the room, handsome,” he said, and when Harry grinned in response, Greg had to hold himself back lest he make those premature messes now after all.

Will, meanwhile, was still recovering from what had clearly been an earth-shattering orgasm. At the moment he was leaning forward onto the table, catching his breath while Tom stroked his back. He looked over at Tom and smiled, his dark eyes full of simple adoration. “That was amazing,” he said. “Thank you.”

Tom smiled softly at him. “Anytime.”

“Yeah?” Will asked in a small voice. Tom just smiled at him.

“Aw, look at you guys,” Greg couldn’t help saying.

Will seemed to remember he wasn’t alone with his dream guy and turned to face them with a wide smile. To Greg’s surprise he reached across the little table and offered Harry his hand. “Thank you,” he said, with what sounded like complete sincerity.

Harry and Greg were still holding each other, like that was a thing they did now, and Greg was thinking not a lot of guys as tall as he was got to rest their heads against their guy’s chest when they hugged. Harry turned them enough to reach his hand out and take Will’s. “For what?” he asked as they shook.

Will released his grip and stepped back, letting out a long breath. “I hated being so angry, man,” he admitted. “Some of it’s still there, I can feel it, but now I can handle it. So, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Harry said, slightly chagrined his joke answer was getting all this attention. “Uh, sorry about taking your height,” he added.

“No worries there,” Will said, unconsciously stroking his augmented pecs. Hadn’t he noticed yet? Greg wondered. “It’s your turn to smack your head on door jambs and light fixtures, dude. Good luck! I am so done with that.” Harry laughed good-naturedly.

Harry and Greg had already come out from around the table, eager to get upstairs. Greg felt a need to finalize the confrontation with Tom that had started all this, an hour and several transformations ago. He shifted to stand next to his much taller roomie instead of holding him like he wanted to, though with his arm still around Harry’s waist, and faced the quarterback, inches apart. Tom, still cocky, took a moment to peruse the three very obvious throbbing rods pushing up out of Greg’s tight pants and under his snug muscle shirt before offering Greg a very satisfied smirk. “So, what do you think? Did I win? I think I won.”

“You’re not getting two weeks of sex-slavery out of me,” Greg said, and Tom fake-pouted. “I’d… call it a draw.”

“Fair enough,” Tom said. “Harry and Will were the ones that lucked out the most, anyway.” They looked at each other curiously for a moment, then moved in as one for a brief, if very French, kiss. He heard Harry laugh and pulled back reluctantly, feeling slightly embarrassed. Okay, being horny all the time made him want to kiss hot guys, and with his looks he could get away with it. Duly noted.

Will had found the red ribbon the cards had been secured with and slid it back on, then started boxing the deck up with the instructions. He paused as he was sliding the lid on. “I assume we’re not playing another round tonight?” he said, glancing around at the others.

“Let’s… see if it’s still here the next time the mood strikes us,” Greg said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Will said. He finished closing the box and left it as it had been on the table. “Hey, did you guys ever hear about the cannibal student back in 1978 who dragged his RA into the tunnels and ate him?”

The others reacted with laughter and friendly derision, obviously inviting Will to go on with the ridiculous urban legend. They all headed for the exit and way out together as Will told his creepy story, none of them noticing as the floor lamp snicked off and the heavy steel door to the secret room quietly closed itself behind them.