Max meets his roommate

Max adjusted his duffle bag on his shoulder as he pushed open the heavy door to the wrestling club accommodation. The air inside smelled faintly of old wood and liniment, a mix that somehow felt reassuring. This was his new beginning—a chance to prove himself. He’d somehow made it onto the team. Sure he’d got in but at what cost? He’d humiliated himself by sucking names balls in front of the whole teams, not to mention the rank farts he’d been subjected to.

The dorm room was modest, with twin beds on opposite sides and a shared desk between them. A figure was already seated at the desk, hunched over what looked like a training journal. The room was clearly very lived in, an aroma of teen odour; sweaty socks, farts and dirty underwear. Upon every surface laid crumpled tissues, clearly crusty and used to shoot loads into. On the bed opposite his was an array of objects that ought to be hidden from public view.

Fleshlights, porn magazines, lube bottles were unabashedly discarded on the bed, as casual as the decent person has pillow on the theirs.

“Hey,” Max ventured, dropping his bag onto the empty bed.

The figure turned, revealing a sharp-featured guy with messy blond hair and an intensity in his blue eyes. He stood up, his movements fluid but deliberate, and extended a hand.

“Sam,” he said. “Guess we’re stuck with each other.”

Max shook his hand, surprised by the firmness of Sam’s grip. “Max. Nice to meet you.”

Sam nodded toward the bag. “You wrestle before, or is this your first shot?”

“First shot,” Max admitted, suddenly feeling the weight of what he’d signed up for.

Sam smirked, not unkindly. “Then we’ve got work to do. I wasn’t there but from what I heard, you got pummeled by Ryan’s ass. He’s a genius, totally invented a whole new strategy that’s yet to fail us. Turns out gassing your opponent out is foolproof. That’s why you were recruited, To practice these moves on.”

Max couldn’t tell if it was a joke or a warning. Either way, he was ready. Or so he hoped.