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A gentle tale of a date in a wheelchair in distress.

I'm their next target.

"Dude, seriously," Rice says, "just try it."

Cory spears a piece of melon on his fork and waves it in my face. A drop of chamoy falls off and plops wetly on the concrete. Good thing we're outside or Vuis would pitch a fit. "Come on, Efrain. You know you want to."

I know I want to do a lot of things. They all involve things he wouldn't like. But, the kid says my name with that taunting voice and good boy grin, and suddenly I can't say no to him.

"Fine." I bite the fruit off his fork and immediately wish I hadn't. This weird mix of salty, sweet, and spicy, I swear there's this kind of pickled flavor somewhere.

"Oh, I ask you three times, but the first time Card says something..."

I'm probably more infatuated with Cory than I should be, but I seriously do not do everything he asks me to. I finish chewing and try to swallow, so I can defend myself. Yet, the longer it's in my mouth...

"Huh, that's actually pretty good."

Cory turns to Rice. "I told you I could get him to eat it. You owe me lunch."

"Dammit, Garza," Rice swears.

I should feel offended at being tricked, but Cory beams at me and shoves more sauced fruit in his mouth and my indignation slips away under that blue gaze. Thankfully, Rice leads him off to sucker in more teammates before I lose my wits completely.

***

Nope, wits are completely lost.

The last time I boned up in the locker room was early high school. There I was, just minding my own business, when oh hey, guys, this is my penis. I wasn't even looking at the other boys, my dick just makes a grab for attention in a room full of guys in various states of undress. Of course it was embarrassing, but I wasn't the only one it happened to, so it didn't matter to anyone. It's just what adolescent dicks do.

If only I could still use that excuse.

Okay, it's not like I'm actively creeping on my straight teammate. I just happen to see Cory, out the corner of my eye, coming out of the showers, towel around his waist and water still clinging to his chest. He's muscled and defined, with just enough body fat to keep him from looking too hard and veiny. He takes another towel and starts drying his hair.

And that's when the towel around his hips slips off.

I look away and focus on getting my shorts on.

"Damn, Card," I hear Teague say. "Are you sure you aren't black, too?"

Against my better judgement, I look over. Lithgow and Cory are giving him almost identical flat stares. Cory has the towel in front of his crotch, but the entire length of his powerful legs are exposed. All of it, from trim ankle to the rounded swell of his ass, is burned into my eyes before I have the sense to look elsewhere. I get my shirt over my head and try not to think about the blood rushing to my dick.

"Could you be less weird, Teague?"

I deal with my embarrassment the same way I deal with any other emotion I don't like. "Oh, lay off him, Lithgow. When you're that small, every dick is monstrous."

"Fuck, we must be talking micro-peen," Lithgow says. "If the size of Card's truck is any indication, it can't be that big."

"Vehicle size seems like a poor measure," Cory reasons. "Or, else you'd need a semi."

"Damn, Lithgow," says one of the guys on the other side of their section. "I think the trainers might have some cream for that burn."

Card smirks. He sets down his towel and starts stepping into his underwear - these cute short boxer briefs. I'm trying and failing not to look at what's nestled in his light brown pubic hair. Even flaccid, I can tell that he's not compensating for anything.

"So, is everyone done creeping on my dick?" He looks at each of us, and includes the guys in the lockers behind him. "You guys good? Great." Then he turns to pull on the rest of his clothes.

"It seems that we have been dismissed, gentlemen," I say and walk off before I really embarrass myself.

On my way out of the locker complex, Vuis stops me to talk about my progress.

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