Ryan remembered how he had been able to concentrate on focusing his thoughts. It had nearly worked. A few seconds more, he could have claimed Vinnie the Dweeb's body as his own.
He groaned at the thought that occupying that dweeb's body would have been an improvement on existing as a jockstrap.
Ryan felt Cy yank him into place, stuffing his cock and ball securely into his cotton pouch. Gag! He could taste gay sweat and smell Cyrus's gay musk.
"Wow, you're just an expert at all things gay, aren't you?"
Cyrus's question just popped into Ryan's mind, unexpected and unexplained.
"You...you can talk to me?" Ryan asked. "You can...hear me?"
"Yeah, I hear every snide remark you've been making about me, you worthless piece of..." Cyrus edited his true intent and instead finished with the word... "cotton."
Ryan panicked. He needed to grab control of the...
Ryan felt like someone had decked him in the chin, hard.
"You won't be taking over my body, Standish," Cyrus said with a prideful authority. "Sorry, but only room for one in this bod."
Ryan felt Cyrus stretch and flex. He might be skinny, but his wiry form was surprisingly taut.
Ryan heard Cyrus's disgusted laughter. "How's it feel, big guy?"
Ryan, mentally rubbing his chin, asked, "How's what feel?"
"Knowing that you're just a jockstrap wrapped around my queer junk?" Cyrus spelled out for the benefit of the slow-to-react jockstrap. "You must be losing it, Standish. Maybe a few ounces of cotton and plastic aren't enough to keep that lackluster brain intact."
Ryan felt surprised at the level of vehemence in Cyrus's tone. He hadn't been bothering to try to detect any of the other guy's feelings and thoughts. Otherwise, he might have learned that some of Cyrus's cruelty originated with the fact that he had a huge crush on Ryan Standish, the jock.
Ashamed to feel attracted towards one of his tormentors, someone who loosely flung around the words "fag" and "gay" as insults, Cyrus took out his frustration on Ryan the jockstrap.
Racing to latch on to one coherent thread in the maelstrom of Cy's thoughts, Ryan came up with one. "You like me?" Ryan sounded shocked.
"Fuck off," Cy said. "Keep your nose out of my thoughts."
This wasn't good. He found himself being worn by one very pissed off fag... sorry, I mean, gay dude... who had, to say the least, mixed feelings for him.
Ryan contemplated, but not long enough. "Listen, I don't hate you. It's just how guys talk."
Cyrus felt his anger spike. "Yeah, because I have heard you call Horst and Carter fag so many times!"
Ryan swallowed in a non-existent throat. "Look, I am sorry, OK?"
"No, you are not," Cyrus rejected the apology. "But you're going to be."
Cyrus, who felt like he could burst into tears any moment, began to entertain several dark scenarios for his now helpless tormentor.