Zed’s tires screeched as they slid into the garage. In one swift motion he leapt off his bike, shifted it into neutral, and kicked down the stand with a defiant stomp, peeling flecks of barely-dried blood off the heel of his boot. He let out a victorious shout and cast his helmet to the floor, shaking out his 7-ball of a head in the light breeze that came with dusk.
“Hell yes!” Zed cried, giving his helmet a kick. The helmet danced around the floor as if joining in the celebration.
Vee rounded the corner and pulled into the garage at a much more measured pace. He scooped Zed’s helmet off the floor, then lifted his own mirrored visor to shoot Zed a glare. “Happy with yourself?” he asked.
“Are you kidding?” Zed vaulted over the seat of his bike and took his partner by the shoulders. “Did you not see that?”
Vee removed his helmet, revealing a smirk, and then nodded towards Zed’s still-rumbling engine. The heart of the beast sputtered arythmically, coughing up thick spurts of smog. Vee shut off his own, happily purring engine, then smacked Zed’s bald head with his glove. “Who the frag you think has to repair that, dumbass?”
“Worth it,” Zed said with a laugh. He reached behind him to kill the ignition. “The way those half-stacks ran… and the air I caught off that ribcage! No way those idiots are moving in on our territory again.”
Vee nodded along and ran a hand through his glistening, maroon mohawk to try and restore it to life after a day of suffocating in his gear. “Yeah, well, these are drek bikes with drek suspension, and they can’t handle that combat biker garbage…”
Vee paused to glare once more. A tusky smile soon broke through.
“…But it was fraggin awesome.”
“That’s what I’m talking about!”
The two bumped fists and headed inside to change. The protective leather clung to them almost as tightly as their own flesh, fused to them by sweat and adrenaline from a long ride terrorizing dwarves in scorching heat. Their pores delighted in a chance to breathe – a damp, acrid breath that filled their tiny locker room to bursting. As Zed reached down to unclip his boots, he paused to admire Vee’s backside. His partner had mellowed some since settling back into the team role of mechanic, but still had the rippling shoulder muscles of someone who threw wild punches without holding back, and could take a tight grip of your bald skull and hold you down until he was done with you.
Vee finished prying off his protective gear and gave the band on his jock a snap, sending a refreshing breeze rippling along the candy orange fabric. Zed blushed and finished disrobing, hurling their collective pile of hard plastic and leather into a cloth bag to launder later. As he reached for his shirt, he spotted Vee stepping back outside, nude save for his jockstrap. “Are you gonna work on the bikes in just that?” Zed asked, incredulously.
“It’s hot as balls, asshat. I gotta air out.”
“Suits me.”
Zed finished changing. He ran hand down the grimacing face of Neil the Ork Barbarian emblazoned on his shirt to smooth it out before following Vee back outside. Vee was already on one knee, inspecting Zed’s engine, turning his fingers into grimy black dots. Zed took a seat atop Vee’s bike and watched intently. A bolt there, a pipe here. Something called a carburetor disagreed with the pistons. Zed tried to follow along as Vee tinkered and tooled, but kept getting distracted. There was something mesmerizing about watching another man, shirtless, working on your bike. Doting on your baby. Manhandling it with the aggression needed to break the parts down, while also treating it with the delicacy required to make it purr. The sight made Zed feel things. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Vee was very good at making Zed feel things.
Vee stood up and dusted off his knees. Zed snapped to attention. How long had he been staring at those thighs?
“Welp, you’re fragged,” Vee said, shaking his head.
Zed frowned. “Drek, it’s busted? For good?” The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach dragged him to the floor. He punched at the concrete, and picked at a fleck of blood on the floor. “I’m gonna go curbstomb, like, six stumpers if squishing one ruined my baby.”
“No, dumbass.” Vee rapped Zed’s skull with a wrench. “The bike’ll be fine. You are fragged.”
“Oh… oh!” Zed grinned at the realization. He reached up to grab candy-orange fistful of jock. Vee brought down the wrench so hard Zed thought he heard his wrist snap. “Ow! Fuck.”
“Now be a good little slitch and get me my other toolbox,” Vee snapped. “You’re paying me back tonight.”
Zed slunk toward the door, grumbling and nursing his wound. Vee’s violent outbursts were fun in the bunkbed, but the bruises weren’t worth it when they didn’t come with someone blowing a load. He gingerly turned the handle and started looking around for the toolbox. He immediately found something far more interesting, or rather, someone; someone dressed in a Seattle Strikers jersey rummaging around in his laundry bag.
Zed rubbed his eyes once to confirm he wasn’t hallucinating. “Wye?” he asked, thoroughly confused. “What are you doing?”
The laundry intruder froze, then slowly turned to look over his shoulder. A single kneepad dangled shamefully from his mouth by the strap. “Nuffing?” Wye spit the kneepad onto the floor. It slid to a stop at Zed’s feet. “I mean, uh, nothing.”
Zed bent down to pick up the pad. He tapped it against his hip idly, at a loss for words.
“I, uh, couldn’t find my lucky game jersey,” Wye stammered out, each word tripping over the next. “Thought someone might have mixed it in with your stuff. Bikers and all. Yeah.” A telling bead of sweat ran down into his eye. Wye wiped it away with one of Zed’s gloves from the bag. “But it’s not here so I think I’m just going to leave. Wouldn’t want to miss the game. That’s a nice Neil shirt, by the way-“
Zed clicked his tongue and stepped between Wye and the exit. “Wye,” he asked, chewing on each word as he pieced things together, “are you the reason my gear never feels… washed?”
Wye bit into his cheek. “Sounds like you need to learn to do laundry.”
“No, see, Vee thought it was the soap, or maybe some low-quality bleach, but I maintained that the smell was kinda sweaty. You’re sweating a lot, by the way.”
“Zed, at this rate I’m gonna miss the game-“
Zed ran his tongue along his left tusk, as he tended to do when he was scheming. He reached into the laundry bag and pulled out his helmet. “Try it on,” he commanded, tossing it at Wye. Wye caught it, bobbled it between his hands, and fumbled it to the ground. As he knelt down to pick it up, Zed grabbed his wrist. “C’mon, into the garage with you.”
Zed dragged both Wye and the cloth bag out to the garage, gingerly mediating his grip for the sake of his wrist. “Hey, Vee!” he shouted. “Look what I found!”
Vee looked up from his work and wiped his brow with a baby blue shop towel. “Is it my toolbox?” he snapped.
“No, its-“
Zed paused to dodge a flying wrench.
“-its a fan.” Zed lifted up Wye’s wrist in mock triumph.
Vee blinked, then hurled another wrench. Zed used Wye’s shoulder as a shield, which would definitely bruise.
“Vee, be nice,” Zed chided. “Wye here’s been dressing up in our gear while we’re not looking, cosplaying Combat Biker. He clearly wants the full go-ganger experience, don’t you Wye?”
Wye opened his mouth to argue. Zed yanked on his bruised shoulder to shut him up.
“Whaddaya say, Vee?”
Zed dumped the laundry bag on the floor and tossed Wye on top of it, while Vee went to grab another wrench. Finding none, Vee took a few moments to try and catch Zed’s meaning. When he saw Wye tossed helplessly atop a pile of freshly worn gear, it only took him one. Vee adjusted his jock and walked over to the edge of the laundry pile, eyeing it with amusement. “So it wasn’t the bleach, then?”
“Nope. Just Wye’s ballsweat.”
“Well, suits me just fine.”
Wye tried to push himself up to his feet. Vee kicked him right in the bruise.
“Don’t worry,” Vee said, kneeling down to fish through the pile of leathers. “We’ve got you covered, Wye.”
“Or rather, we will.”
Zed nodded at Vee. Vee nodded back. In tandem, they grabbed Wye’s limbs and flipped him onto his back to strip him down. Stunned, Wye’s grunts of pain were buried under the squeaky stretch of leather being forcefully pulled over his head, stale sweat bonding it tightly to his body like a second skin. Then came the pants, a slightly looser fit around Wye’s smaller frame but adhering all the same. With matching grins, Zed and Vee each grabbed one wrist and gingerly slipped gloves over the fingers, pulling the velcro tight over the palms for maximum protection.
Vee headed inside to grab boots while Zed slipped pads onto the joints and a hard plastic exoskeleton over the chest. Vee returned with Zed’s blood-caked boots and forced them over the heels, clipping them down with little protest.
“Why my boots?” Zed asked.
Vee chuckled. “My feet are way bigger.”
To complete the transformation, Zed slammed his helmet down over Wye’s head, which still smelled freshly of a long day’s ride. As Zed cinched the neckstrap tight, Vee took the padlock from his locker and clipped it through the buckle to secure the helmet in place. Zed fumbled in his back pocket for his commlink and held it up as a mirror for Wye. “Well,” Zed asked, “How do you look?”
The heat from Wye’s cheeks radiated through the helmet’s outer shell.
“C’mon,” Zed continued. “Let’s get you on a bike.”
“Seriously?” Wye leapt to his feet with surprising ease. “You guys aren’t mad?”
Zed and Vee exchanged a knowing glance. Zed put a hand on Wye’s back and walked him towards the still-intact bike. “Of course not. We’re flattered.”
Wye stopped to admire the vehicle, gently fondling the handle, caressing the seat, learning how a wild beast feels from behind a protective suit of armor. Zed cupped Wye’s leather-lined glutes and helped lift them onto the seat. Behind him, Vee audibly played with his own waistband.
“Smile,” Zed instructed, holding up his comm to snap a few pictures. Wye nearly fell off the bike in shock, flailing at the handlebars to find the proper grip. But as soon as he felt the satisfying firmness of his grip around the throttle, he took to it naturally, leaning into dramatic poses, veering around imaginary obstacles, and one-handing an imaginary shotgun to knock a rival off his ride. It was the hammiest thing Zed had ever seen, but made for some pretty decent shots.
Zed signalled to Vee that he was wrapping up. Vee walked up and rested a chin on Zed’s shoulder, watching Wye’s antics like a parent might watch a toddler playing spaceman. “He looks good,” Vee lied. “But I don’t think he can handle the full biker experience.”
“No?” Zed asked, wrenching his face to feign surprise. “He seems a natural.”
“I don’t think the fragger’s tough enough.”
“Hmm. Yeah, you’re probably right. Okay, Wye, fun’s over. We need our gear back now.”
Wye wrenched the throttle a few more times. “I can handle it,” he said, rolling his shoulders defiantly.
“Sorry,” Vee asked, cupping a hand around his ear. “What was that?”
“I can be just as badass as you fraggers,” Wye insisted. “I don’t care if I miss the game. I’d kill for just a few minutes of ride.”
Vee nodded. Zed crouched. Vee vaulted over him, diving headlong into their gear-laden guest. The exoskeleton clattered loudly against the ground. Zed barely caught the bike before it tipped over, and Vee wrestled Wye into submission. Vee took the helmet by the mouthguard and crashed it against the floor. Then he crashed it again. And again. And again. Crack. Crack. Crack. “That’s what a wipeout feels like,” Vee hissed, grinning madly into the visor.
Wye moaned miserably. Vee threw a punch into the shoulder for good measure. He then sunk his fingers deep into Wye’s well-protected thighs, creating space Zed quickly filled with the front wheel of the bike, pushed up against Wye’s unmentionables.
“And after a crash,” Zed said. “You might end up going under the tires of the guy behind you.” He gave the wheel a few threatening pulses forward.
Panicked, Wye scrambled to try and remove the helmet. His gloved fingers stopped in horror when they hit the padlock. The helmet rocked back and forth as he looked from Vee to Zed and back again, only to be met with wide, hungry eyes no matter which way he turned. “You’re insane!” he cried.
“You’d have to be insane to ride a bike!” Vee insisted. “It’s a super dangerous deathtrap. You need to understand that to ride with us.” He clawed at the leather waistline and started to tug, before pausing abruptly. “Oh my god Zed!”
“What is it, partner?”
“We forgot to give him crotch protection!” Vee hurriedly slipped off his jock, making sure Wye watched as he revealed a rock-hard erection from behind the cup. It more than justified his boot size.
“But he’s already got the pants on,” Zed mused.
“Well, we’ll make do.”
Wye shook his head and said something, but Vee didn’t hear it. He was too busy shoving his jock up into the helmet, using Wye’s tusks for leverage, and worming his fingers as deep into Wye’s mouth as he could get the makeshift gag to go. Wye coughed, choked, and rolled his head back and forth on the ground. Zed rolled the wheel up higher onto the crotch and managed to squeeze out a little moan.
Zed started counting off a checklist on his fingers. “So, you’ve got the proper protection, check. You can handle a crash, check. Only one last rule to know if you’re gonna ride with us. Do you know what it is?”
Wye shook his head languidly, resigned to whatever Zed had planned.
“Slowest rider gets dicked. We gotta make sure you can handle that. Vee?”
Vee grabbed Wye by his bad shoulder and dragged him to his feet. Before Wye could catch a breath, he shoved Wye forward as if he were cattle. Zed caught him with the bike, bending Wye over the seat as he stumbled forward. Vee lunged forward, peeling back the leather at the waist to reveal a firm, trembling pair of buttocks, ripe for abuse. A sharp spank turned them red. Vee’s cock rubbed against the cheeks to make it feel better.
Wye seethed, then groaned, then choked again, suffocating on the taste and smell of Vee’s stale groin infused into his makeshift gag. He tried to look up, and Zed buried an elbow into his back, pinning him down. Wye could only watch as Zed unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his own hardening cock, gently stroking it as he prepared to enjoy the show.
Vee slipped his shaft between the cheeks, thrusting up and down between them to get a feel for his prize. Panting eagerly, he gave his palm a long, loud lick and struck the cheek hard for an icy sting. The shock reverberated up through Wye’s spine. Wye lurched forward an inch, burying his visor in Zed’s balls. Zed rubbed them too and fro, creating slick streaks of sweat along the mirrored surface.
Vee spat into the cleft and rubbed his cock eagerly in the natural lubricant before spreading out Wye’s legs. He gleefully pressed the head against the waiting ring of muscles, grunting happily as it reluctantly accepted him inside.
“Time to take your dick like an ork, slowfrag.”
Vee’s first thrust was gentle, slowly worming his way inside to test the limits of his prize. The instant his balls hit the warm, saliva-soaked ass, instinct kicked in. He drew back and rammed inside, sending a thundering slap, and searing whine, reverberating through the garage. Wye writhed as Vee tore at his insides, straining painfully to arch his back with each thrust. Zed’s elbow kept him pinned down, ballsack streaking across the visor like the world’s least effective pair of windshield wipers.
Slap. Slap. Slap. Vee’s fingers dug tightly into Wye’s thighs, creating reddish-purple marks around the hips, the deep color mirroring Vee’s animalistic fear that his prey might escape. The exoskeleton protecting the spine rattled with each of Vee’s heavy, rhythmic plows of the guts. Zed breathed a contented sigh, deeply aroused at watching his partner tear apart a poor, geared up slitch, while also mildly relieved it wasn’t him tonight. Wye’s pleading whimpers slowly gave way to agonized moans. Concerned, Zed helpfully raised the visor and pressed his nuts into the watering eyes. The fresh new scent and slapping sensations provided a distraction from the pain, quieting Wye back down to muted whimpers.
Slap. Schlurp. Squeak. Crunch. The chassis of the bike complained about the abuse, freer to do so than poor, gagged Wye. Vee grunted once. Twice. Louder. Louder still. Wye flinched, shutting his eyes and clenching his ass in preparation. Vee threw back his head and forced a long, strained grunt out from his lungs as he pumped himself dry. Exhausted, he flopped backwards onto the ground, leaving a small stream of jizz to pour down into the protective leather on the floor.
Zed leaned forward and poked his cockhead between Wye’s eyes. “So, think you’re ready to ride with us?”
Wye nodded, tracing a shiny line of Zed’s precum along the bridge of his nose.
“Great. Well, tomorrow, we’ll-“
Zed hesitated, ear twitching towards an unexpected sound. He turned toward the locker room door. “Did you hear that?”
Vee shook his head deliriously. Wye nodded and muttered something into the jock. Zed helpfully removed it, dropping it on the floor.
“That’s Bee.” Wye said, weakly. “We were dressing up… for the game.”
“With our gear?” Zed asked.
“With your gear.”
Zed’s tongue poked around in his cheeks, then ran up and down along his left tusk as he gazed up at the ceiling. Without a Gamma in the crew yet, Wye was technically Zed’s only sibling, and while letters didn’t mean all that much in the crew hierarchy, he couldn’t pass up a chance to help his kin get his rocks off.
“Wye?” Bee called out through the door. “Where the frag did you go with that gear? The pre-game just finished!”
Zed helped Wye to his feet, revealing a shimmering coating of pre spread all along the seat and Wye’s groin. Pulling a key from his back pocket, he took the padlock off the helmet, then walked over to grab a second helmet from the pile of gear on the floor. He played a bit with a fresh drop of pre from his own tip, then positioned himself near the door.
Wye’s eyes smiled with understanding. He grabbed some gloves and boots off the floor, positioned himself on the other side of the door, and shut his visor with a dramatic flick. “I’m out here, Bee!”
The door slammed open, and Bee stepped into the garage with a swagger that matched the glimmering sheen on the Timberwolves logos covering him head to toe. “Where’s that gear?” he shouted. “Damnit, Bee we can’t make this bet without-“
Zed slammed the door shut behind Bee. Together, he and Wye tackled Bee atop the pile of leather and rapidly stripped him of his Timerwolve’s pride. Bee flailed madly. A stray kick struck Wye directly in the helmet, stunning him for a moment. Zed bonked Bee with the spare helmet to daze him into submission. Zed wrapped his arms under Bee’s shoulders and his knees around the thighs, restricting Bee’s movement enough for Wye to slip the leather bottom half-way up his betting partner.
“Good enough,” Zed called out over the commotion. “Get the boots on him.”
Bee continued to struggle, rocking back and forth to try and break Zed’s grip. Wye sat his full weight on Bee’s chest to pin him to Zed, taking his time to grapple each leg and slide a boot on it while waiting for Bee to give up the struggle. The gloves were a harder challenge, between Wye’s own gloves limiting his dexterity and Bee’s fingers flailing madly in protest, but he managed somehow.
“Don’t act like you don’t want this,” Zed snapped. He slammed the helmet down on Bee’s head and quickly padlocked it into place.
Bare chested, leather pants dangling around his knees, and gloves falling off his fingers, Bee looked a mess, but Wye and Zed’s pulsing erections demanded they call it “good enough.” Leaking slime from his backside with every step, Wye hoisted Bee to his feet and threw him stumbling over the bike. Zed leapt into action, resting an elbow on the back of Bee’s neck while Wye rubbed his leaking tip up and down between the cleft to lubricate it.
“I’m gonna fucking kill you guys!” Bee shouted from behind the visor.
Zed knelt down and picked up Vee’s jock, used it to clean some of his pre to freshen up the taste, and stuffed Bee’s mouth with it. “If you’re gonna frag in my gear, I get to watch. That’s the rule.”
Wye leaned forward and slowly inserted himself into Bee, just an inch. A gasp immediately escaped his lips, and he had to lean against Bee’s thighs to stabilize himself. “Oh fuck,” Wye whispered. “This… feels amazing.”
“First time on top?” Zed asked, perplexed.
Wye blushed. “The Timberwolves rarely lose…”
Bee grumbled into his gag. Zed shoved it in deeper.
Wye took a deep, composing breath. “O- okay Bee,” started to say. He quivered with excitement, newly empowered by the gear encompassing his figure. “You know the drill, slitch. Count the thrusts. All twenty four of them, one for each… uh, tenth of a second you lost the race! Here we go!”
Bee shook his head in bewilderment. Zed rapped on the helmet approvingly. “Oh, that’s good roleplay. I should use that rule on Vee somtime.”
Vee snorted and rolled over onto his side, where the floor was less sticky.
Wye smacked his lips loudly and plowed inside Bee, driving his hips forward to finally explore topdom. The shudder of delight rattled his protective chestplate. Bee shouted something that sounded like a number into the gag. Wye pulled back, then dove in again. And again. Zed suppressed a chuckle as Wye’s kneepads quaked with anticipation.
“Hold on there, sib.” Zed reached down and pulled the gag out from Bee’s mouth. “I’ve always wanted to try this.” Gently, Zed angled up the helmet until it was level with the ground. The helmet fit Bee poorly, clearly a size too large, which was bad for protection but perfect for what Zed had in mind. He slipped his member between the padding and the chin and worked his way inside. It was a tight fit, and Bee’s tusks provided a nice grove to guide his shaft up past moist, sputtering lips. “Okay, Wye!” Zed called. “Back to fucking!”
Wye took a deep breath and shoved himself forward. Bee inhaled sharply, drawing the intoxicating scent of fresh, eager biker cock up into his nostrils. Zed grinned at the heat from Bee’s rising blush. Sandwiched between a real biker’s leaking shaft and a fully-geared up ork making him his bitch – there was no chance his cheeks would stay pale.
“F-four,” Bee burbled compliantly into the veiny prick. He tilted his head to try and keep the precum out of his nose.
Wye picked up his pace. Thrusts give through nine came quickly, with a brief pause after ten to catch his breath. Zed commanded Bee to stick out his tongue, which made the counting difficult, but made Zed’s helmet-fucking feel amazing. While Wye struggled to get through thrusts fifteen and sixteen, Zed worked his hips, taking rapid micro-thrusts to rub his most sensitive spots against a warm tongue. To Zed’s delight, Bee started to lick, sucking and slurping to try and provide enough saliva to keep things lubricated. Wye’s inconsistent pace was agonizing, and Bee desperately needed the distraction.
“T-twenty” Wye grunted through clenched teeth. “T-twenty. Twenty. Twenty… AGH!”
In shock, Wye jumped back, sending spurts of cum splattering along his friend’s spine. He nearly tripped over the spare engine parts on the floor as he stumbled, dripping white globs in a trail on the floor.
“Oh fuck that’s hot,” Zed muttered. He gripped his ballsack eagerly. “Virgin biker taking his first slitch. Fuck, that’s… mmm.” He smacked Bee upside the helmet. “Lick faster, slitch.”
Thoroughly broken, Bee complied, dancing all around the shaft with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh fuck oh fuck oh…”
Zed loins finally burst, and he sighed with relief. He pulled out, leaving white streaks dripping down along Bee’s chinstrap like ice cream melting down along the side of a cone. As he went to undo the lock before it got too jizzy, he heard Bee swallow.
Quickly, he helped Bee to his feet and gave him a patronizing spank, careful to avoid Wye’s wayward splatter. “Okay, you two,” he said. “Get out of here and go watch your game.”
“Should we leave the gear?” Wye asked. He grabbed a shop towel and used it to wipe down Bee’s chinstraps.
“Bring it back tomorrow, clean, and Vee and I will let you both ride bitch.” Zed said. “Vee’s got a bike to repair. Leave. Now.”
The pair made themselves scarce, scrambling to properly cover their lower halves as they ran to try and catch the end of the first quarter. Zed sat on the floor next to Vee and mussed up his mechanic’s hair.
“You’re still blowing me tonight if you want me to fix your bike,” Vee muttered.
“I know,” Zed said. He laid down and wrapped his arms around Vee, holding him a little too tightly. He cautiously eyed a wrench a few feet away. Thankfully, Vee was too spent to notice it.