Chad tried unsuccessfully to communicate with his teammates as they took turns jacking off into him. Rick was first, then Todd and Rod side by side, then Mick, Rico, Jaime, Jimbo, and the rest. Bruno was last, and seemed disappointed.
"Hey, the bucket isn't ready to overflow. It must hold more than the old bucket," whined Bruno.
Rick piped up, "Chad isn't here today. He usually contributes 2 or 3 loads."
"Oh, yeah. Where is he anyway?"
"Hot date, I think. Or maybe he got wind of Josh's bucket being personalized with his face plastered to the bottom."
"Wait. I missed that. I know it's his number and marked MVP, but his face is painted on the inside bottom of the bucket?"
"Don't think it's painted. Looks more likke a photographic decal. You can drink the contents of the bucket to see for yourself, Bruno."
"Ha ha! I bet."
"Oh, it's true. I snapped a picture see," said Mick.
"I don't need to see you dick pic, Mick," Bruno said, then he saw Chad's cum splattered moniker in the background. " Well, I'll be damned. Chad's face is lapping up cum at the bottom of the bucket."
Splooge!
Some of the guys had shot two loads. The bucket probably would have overflowed, if Chad hadn't absorbed the first dozen loads by the time Bruno shot his.
Chad was wasted. Each shot of cum was like a a can of beer. Only unlike beer, when Chad passed out, he didn't stop drinking. He was awakened in the now long cold sauna by his own belch. He rubbed his bloated belly. He sat up leaned forward with his head in his hands. The noise, wetness and stench of his sudden long loud fart made him jump. He stared at the shiny white wet spot on the bench where he had been sitting.
"Oh, man. It couldn't have been real, could it?"
He was sure that was cum that came out of his ass when he farted. He felt sick. He stumbled out of the cold dark sauna into the dark cold tile hallway to the showers. He felt his way along the wall to the shower room. He waited for what seemed like forever until the shower was hot. His muscles were so stiff. Probably from sleeping in the sauna. He was reconstructing reality I'm his mind. No way was he turned into a plastic bucket. But that cum, and his bloatedness. Someone roofied him, and fucked him. It couldn't have been his teammates. Maybe people from a rival school? He only remembered his buds jerking off. Josh must've been involved. It all seemed so real though.
He shook his head. Turned off the shower, and headed to his locker to change. He thought at first in the dark he gone to the wrong locker. The lock was gone. The locker was empty.
"Josh..." growled Chad.
His stuff was probably in the lost and found. Maybe Josh left a key in the towel cage. Chad had slid through the towel distribution slot when he was younger and smaller. It was a tighter fit this time. His shoulders were wider , so he put one arm through, then the other. He grabbed the inside edge of the counter and pulled. His butt cheeks were catching him up. He took a breath and inhaled, an pulled hard. His butt cheeks gave, and he slid through. His butt cheeks were sore and wobbly, and all that pressure on his cock being squashed against the countertop had resulted in him having a massive boner.
He was tempted to grab a towel and jerk off there, but first the key. He found a few unmarked keys, but none looked like the master key. It was hard to see in the dim emergency lighting. The shadowy lighting cast weird shadows. For a moment Chad thought he was covered in tattoos. Finally, in the bottom file drawer he found a key with a tag that read, "Ass. Coach"
The assistant coach's office might have something Chad could wear or more keys. Chad wrapped himself in a clean towel, propped the cage door open with a chair. He tried the key in Coach Sanchez door, it opened. Chad flicked on the lights. He was temporarily blinded. He blinked, and saw Todd's signature tattooed on the inside of his forearm. Chad whipped off his towel. He checked himself out in the coach's full length mirror. .
He remembered the old cum bucket had been autographed by each guy after he blew his load in it. But after all the years, and all that rust, those signatures were illegible. Someone had gotten a permanent marker, when Chad was about half full. Everyone had signed the new bucket. And now those markings had become tattoos embedded in Chad's skin. His lower back was emblazoned with his receiver's name with an arrow tattooed beneath suggesting that Chad expected him to fuck him. His cock was similarly tattooed. Chad vaguely recalled Josh coming in when he was full, lifting him up and writing on the bottom of the bucket. Chad lifted his foot. Josh's signature was tattooed to the sole of his foot. He thought of Woody in Toy Story, but he didn't feel the same way about being owned by Josh. He shuddered.
His cock was rock hard. He'd only cum once yesterday, so he had pent up loads. He usually blew 4-5 loads per day. The anticipation of a secret admirer had made him stave off his regular break and lunch wanking sessions.
Chad lay back on Sanchez' sofa, and started wanking. His balls tightened. He started to sweat. Chad weirdly found himself thinking about his teammates cute asses. He blew his load, and froze as his own cum splattered on his face. He was transforming back into the football player shaped cum bucket.
In the morning, the door opened to Sanchez' office, and the clean empty cum bucket was found sitting on the sofa.