Mention Tyler

"So coach. How's...Tyler doing?" you say looking at Coach Johnson.

"Who's Tyler?" Coach Johnson says slowly.

"You know...that brother of your sister's husband or whatever. That fag you fucked." you say and his face jaggedly turns, his eyes darting at you.

"What do you know of it." Coach Johnson says, putting down his clipboard, walking slowly towards you.

"I know that you bred that little slut," you say, "but don't worry, your secret's safe with me. You and I coach, we can be friends." Coach Johnson was stepping closer and closer. Soon your back was to a locker, the coach's malice was evident.

"What do you want?" he says with a sneer.

"Now is that the way you talk to a friend," you say and coach grabs you by the throat.

"Listen here you little punk, if you think you can just out me to everyone, then you've got another thing coming." he says, pulling up, your feet on your tippy toes. "You think I don't hear what the others say about you. That you're a pathetic little cock sucker." he grabs your crotch.

"Trying to **** me?" he says, squeezing it hard, "Bad move." He leans in whispering in your ear. "I can make you fucking disappear. I could tie you up in my basement and sell your holes to the highest bidders. Hell, I could **** your food with Viagra so you couldn't even stop yourself from begging to be fucked harder." As he holds your crotch he laughs. "Holy shit did that just make you hard," you feel your vision blurring as he lets go of your throat. You gasp and cough, **** on the rush of air down your crushed windpipe.

"So...What do you want?" Coach Johnson says