killerjustin
Forum Regular
- Joined
- Feb 24, 2012
- Messages
- 417
- Location
- San Diego
Robbie’s Soccer Afternoon Rehearsal by JValdez
Drizzle and mist surrounded the field as Robbie walked out to the middle and started stretching his muscular legs before this day’s match. He was usually first; today all was silent except for the bit of wind rustling his shorts and hoody. Robbie lifted his right leg, foot down, and then the left, repeated the motion until he was prancing in place like the thoroughbred he was. Robbie’s lean muscular neck flushed with red, it’s veins popped, sweat began dripping lightly from it; his face began turning red. Big breaths of condensation from his massive rib cage and hot lungs appeared from his lips and red-tipped nose. He changed to squats, slowly bringing his ass all the way down to his heels, stopping there for a bit, and then back up, arms spread like an eagle. The interval at his heels lengthened, and it almost seemed as if he were humping his own heels. He was. Robbie’s low hangers dropped out of his shorts; his cock was so hard it looked like it would tear through the fabric; a stain began to appear where the cockhead was. Robbie started jumping jacks; the balls pulled up and down with the motion; the stain spread some more. He gradually slowed down the motion, then stopped, and ran graceful figure 8’s a bit to cool down. He tucked his balls back up, tried to wipe the stain, and moved to the back of the field to contemplate with perspective what action today’s game would bring.
Usually by this time the other players would have started to arrive; for some reason, they were not present; a cold breeze chilled Robbie’s exposed legs and face. He picked up a towel from the little stack of his gear, started wiping down and squinted through the mist for a clue that his teammates were near. He could make out a caravan of black Suburbans drawing closer; the group of six vehicles parked at the head of the field and disgorged dark camo-clad beefy men with dark/swarthy complexions who started towards Robbie. Robbie’s heart skipped a beat; they certainly didn’t look like anyone he knew, and their attitude seemed rather grim, at the very least. The leader of the group identified himself as “Jose”, and proceeded to tell Robbie that they were a special talent-scouting team, that he had been recommended to them, and could he perform some moves to showcase his talents? Robbie was floored, he had heard of special visits from men like this from his colleagues around the world; this one seemed to fall in line with what he had heard about.
Robbie said, “I’m sorry, what organization did you say your were with?”, Jose smiled and answered “Oh, we’re from the Zetas—maybe you’ve heard of us?” Robbie answered that he really hadn’t heard of them, but they were welcome to watch him perform. He ran down the center of the field with the Soccer, then stopped short, jumped, popped the ball with his extended neck and head, and ran to retrieve it, then performing other fast maneouvers showcasing his magnificent legs, his arms, and his extremely versatile hot lean muscular neck. Robbie noticed that the men had formed a loose circle around him and felt a bit uncomfortable with the closeness of the strangers. Jose broke through, and offered him a cold container of Gatorade®, and remarked “Hot moves, Robbie!” Robbie grinned, gulped a huge mouthful of Gatorade®; his neck worked the cold liquid down, like a snake swallowing a whole animal. Jose said “Robbie, we’re gonna do a couple of rounds with you—run to the end of the field and my men will form teams and follow you.” Robbie hadn’t heard of this part of the audition from his colleagues, and the first sliver of suspicion entered his mind.
He had almost reached the end of the field, adjacent to a forest, when he noticed that the men were gaining on him and getting closer and closer. They had formed two long parallel lines like a gauntlet; Jose stood at the end, and shouted down the line “Robbie, make a run for it, to me!” Robbie looked around and saw no smiles and figured he ought to comply. “As fast as you can!” added Jose. He dug in his heels, summoned all energy possible, and ran the fastest he had ever run in his life, straight to Jose. Lungs straining mightily, striated muscular legs pumping, Robbie was about to reach Jose when he saw a glint of silver, then experienced an incredible lightness as his head was decapitated by Jose in an instant. Jose grabbed Robbie’s head, showed it his headless body, pumping blood out of it’s vacant neckstump, still running. Jose kept the head in his hand until the body began tripping on it’s uncoordinated feet, finally falling down, thrashing and clutching at what had formerly been it’s head. It’s stump continued to pump bright right blood, although not at the first beheaded volume. Two men pulled down the body’s shorts and jock, pulled up it’s shirt; another wielded a machete mid torso and split it horizontally just above the hip bones; intestines and other organs tumbled out; it’s hard cock began spurting load after load of hot white cum; that was the last thing Robbie’s head saw before it went dark. Jose threw the head down on top of the torso and ordered “Men, let’s finish this puppy—he shouldn’t have fucked with us.”
If Robbie’s severed head were still conscious, it would have remembered the deal he promised to do with “Alex” a rich Mexican kid at school who everybody was in awe of, and wanted to be next to. Instead, he had taken delivery of the goods, and had never come through with cash. He told Alex that he would have it shortly, that he couldn’t come up with everything at once; Alex only smiled and said that it would all be worked out. It was.
The same two men now picked up Robbie’s beautifully muscled legs and began the task of chopping them from it’s torso; sharp machetes made rapid work of it, blood, muscle, tissue and bone flying everywhere. They stood the legs next to each other, still in their shoes and socks; tethered by shorts and the jock; the genitals were chopped off and stuffed down Robbie’s throat; the shirt was pulled off and the arms chopped off, to join the legs in a macabre display at the first goalpost; the torso was moved to the far goalpost. “Let’s play!” Jose called out; the men began kicking something down the field; it had a mouth, nose, and ears; Robbie’s Soccer afternoon rehearsal had begun in earnest.
Drizzle and mist surrounded the field as Robbie walked out to the middle and started stretching his muscular legs before this day’s match. He was usually first; today all was silent except for the bit of wind rustling his shorts and hoody. Robbie lifted his right leg, foot down, and then the left, repeated the motion until he was prancing in place like the thoroughbred he was. Robbie’s lean muscular neck flushed with red, it’s veins popped, sweat began dripping lightly from it; his face began turning red. Big breaths of condensation from his massive rib cage and hot lungs appeared from his lips and red-tipped nose. He changed to squats, slowly bringing his ass all the way down to his heels, stopping there for a bit, and then back up, arms spread like an eagle. The interval at his heels lengthened, and it almost seemed as if he were humping his own heels. He was. Robbie’s low hangers dropped out of his shorts; his cock was so hard it looked like it would tear through the fabric; a stain began to appear where the cockhead was. Robbie started jumping jacks; the balls pulled up and down with the motion; the stain spread some more. He gradually slowed down the motion, then stopped, and ran graceful figure 8’s a bit to cool down. He tucked his balls back up, tried to wipe the stain, and moved to the back of the field to contemplate with perspective what action today’s game would bring.
Usually by this time the other players would have started to arrive; for some reason, they were not present; a cold breeze chilled Robbie’s exposed legs and face. He picked up a towel from the little stack of his gear, started wiping down and squinted through the mist for a clue that his teammates were near. He could make out a caravan of black Suburbans drawing closer; the group of six vehicles parked at the head of the field and disgorged dark camo-clad beefy men with dark/swarthy complexions who started towards Robbie. Robbie’s heart skipped a beat; they certainly didn’t look like anyone he knew, and their attitude seemed rather grim, at the very least. The leader of the group identified himself as “Jose”, and proceeded to tell Robbie that they were a special talent-scouting team, that he had been recommended to them, and could he perform some moves to showcase his talents? Robbie was floored, he had heard of special visits from men like this from his colleagues around the world; this one seemed to fall in line with what he had heard about.
Robbie said, “I’m sorry, what organization did you say your were with?”, Jose smiled and answered “Oh, we’re from the Zetas—maybe you’ve heard of us?” Robbie answered that he really hadn’t heard of them, but they were welcome to watch him perform. He ran down the center of the field with the Soccer, then stopped short, jumped, popped the ball with his extended neck and head, and ran to retrieve it, then performing other fast maneouvers showcasing his magnificent legs, his arms, and his extremely versatile hot lean muscular neck. Robbie noticed that the men had formed a loose circle around him and felt a bit uncomfortable with the closeness of the strangers. Jose broke through, and offered him a cold container of Gatorade®, and remarked “Hot moves, Robbie!” Robbie grinned, gulped a huge mouthful of Gatorade®; his neck worked the cold liquid down, like a snake swallowing a whole animal. Jose said “Robbie, we’re gonna do a couple of rounds with you—run to the end of the field and my men will form teams and follow you.” Robbie hadn’t heard of this part of the audition from his colleagues, and the first sliver of suspicion entered his mind.
He had almost reached the end of the field, adjacent to a forest, when he noticed that the men were gaining on him and getting closer and closer. They had formed two long parallel lines like a gauntlet; Jose stood at the end, and shouted down the line “Robbie, make a run for it, to me!” Robbie looked around and saw no smiles and figured he ought to comply. “As fast as you can!” added Jose. He dug in his heels, summoned all energy possible, and ran the fastest he had ever run in his life, straight to Jose. Lungs straining mightily, striated muscular legs pumping, Robbie was about to reach Jose when he saw a glint of silver, then experienced an incredible lightness as his head was decapitated by Jose in an instant. Jose grabbed Robbie’s head, showed it his headless body, pumping blood out of it’s vacant neckstump, still running. Jose kept the head in his hand until the body began tripping on it’s uncoordinated feet, finally falling down, thrashing and clutching at what had formerly been it’s head. It’s stump continued to pump bright right blood, although not at the first beheaded volume. Two men pulled down the body’s shorts and jock, pulled up it’s shirt; another wielded a machete mid torso and split it horizontally just above the hip bones; intestines and other organs tumbled out; it’s hard cock began spurting load after load of hot white cum; that was the last thing Robbie’s head saw before it went dark. Jose threw the head down on top of the torso and ordered “Men, let’s finish this puppy—he shouldn’t have fucked with us.”
If Robbie’s severed head were still conscious, it would have remembered the deal he promised to do with “Alex” a rich Mexican kid at school who everybody was in awe of, and wanted to be next to. Instead, he had taken delivery of the goods, and had never come through with cash. He told Alex that he would have it shortly, that he couldn’t come up with everything at once; Alex only smiled and said that it would all be worked out. It was.
The same two men now picked up Robbie’s beautifully muscled legs and began the task of chopping them from it’s torso; sharp machetes made rapid work of it, blood, muscle, tissue and bone flying everywhere. They stood the legs next to each other, still in their shoes and socks; tethered by shorts and the jock; the genitals were chopped off and stuffed down Robbie’s throat; the shirt was pulled off and the arms chopped off, to join the legs in a macabre display at the first goalpost; the torso was moved to the far goalpost. “Let’s play!” Jose called out; the men began kicking something down the field; it had a mouth, nose, and ears; Robbie’s Soccer afternoon rehearsal had begun in earnest.
