Walking into the school's locker room, Asta felt pride growing in his chest, making it grow. He closed his green eyes and put his sharp nose to use; Sweaty gym-socks punched him, underwear, the skink of adolescent guys after one hell of a workout. He smelled wet shower tiles, too, the janitor's chemical cleaner, same for armpits, the scent of testosterone - Asta breathed all of that stuff in, seeing three versions of himself in front of the own inner eye; their stretched out hands carrying bent fingers, gently and patiently guiding those mixing smells into the form of a dark-green tornado, slowly moving it around, holding it right where it was. Asta breathed all of that in, indeed, noticing gray walls which matched his spiky hair, the ground consisting of red tiles and wooden benches between blue lockers. Comfort and relaxation left Asta's mouth as a sigh. Sometimes he really loved spending time on the school's wrestling team. The future Wizard King slightly swung his hips while moving, sauntering all over the place as if he owned it all - and, in a way, didn’t he?
At least he was planning on reaching the top level of fame and success. He'd already made a name for himself as one hell of a knucklehead, always one for a surprise you wouldn't see coming, a wind of lightning and explosions. No doubt he'd made it to being the top wrestler on the team, the omegas' alpha, at least so far as he was concerned. Magna tended to brag about being the true badass among them, not to mention that a certain blond kiddo kept insisting on acting up and picking fights he really shouldn't have... Bullshit. Either way, Asta was certain he'd bested them all, if not all of them irl already. Yet. All this came down to lineage. After all: He'd been raised by sister Lilly, somebody with those teal eyes, that smile which managed to melt ice and hearts alike - and a gangster biker-chick in the past... as well as her school's sports champion. She'd been the top-ranked female wrestler in the nation back when she'd competed. Asta's grin depicted shiny white teeth. Oh, he planned to follow in her footsteps, alright. One of many parts, the puzzle pieces connecting into the plan to win her heart and body. As he walked further ahead, Astra heard an ocean of voices, deep and high, taunts and laughter, the "zip" sound of gym-bags being opened or closed. White steam came from the nearby showers, smelling like vanilla soap, water splashing, some bubbles hovering around. But Asta walked past that into the other end of the changing room. There he waded into a sea of half-naked jocks and slapped some of the guys on the shoulders.
A captain on his flying Marry, he guided the "ship" through storm's ocean, avoiding sharp rocks while they sprung from the angry depths, making it to his locker. He’d be boasting about how he'd own all of them on the mats today (well, everyday). Noticing Yuno (a young man of average height with messy black hair, gold eyes and a lean build) Asta tried to goad his old childhood-friend into a no-rules-allowed match with him - but the guy was as bored as ever. Fucking stoneface! Oh well, he'd teach him soon enough. Asta shrugged and made his way around the local heavyweight Grey. That body put the planet's sumo-wrestlers to shame, the purple shirt could (just barely) survive the pressure from within. Messy black hair stood above blankly staring white dots (his eyes) and... was that smoke coming from his open-hanging mouth? The fuck? Asta waved in dismissal. Being brave was one thing, seeking out connection to this kind of weirdo was asking for needless struggle. Then, Asta stepped over Gauche Adlai; a tall, slender-built young man with light skin and shaggy light brown hair that draped over his forehead and left eye. Maestro had brown eyes, while his left eye had been replaced by a small magical mirror. Aside from his little sister, doctor Weirdo didn't appear to be interested in, well, anything. Sometimes Asta wondered why that nutjob attended classes in the first place. Even now he was... power-napping on the floor. Why join any club if you'd just constantly complain about having to show up? Perhaps he'd make a guy friend or partner to Yuno... Slightly narrowing his eyes, Asta grinned like a boy, licking his lips and thinking through the strategies he'd use against the other boys. At last he reached the own locker, fingers trembling from excitement while he twisted the combination into the lock.
Opening said door he was smashed in the face by his own stink. Wait a Minute... Asta frowned. Right. He'd taken his last pair of gym clothes home for the family to wash after last time’s practice - AND they'd been allowed to rank in this very locker. The singlet was clean, though. Certainly, he'd be able to steal a jockstrap if required. What else were freshmen good for? Asta began to strip. As usual he started by flexing off his white T-Shirt, unbuttoning his dark-green shorts and pulling them down with his baby-blue briefs, kicking that duo of sorts off with his feet. Moving his head from side to side, cracking the own neck, Asta raised his hand and called across the locker-room.
"Yo, Yuno!"
Said Boy glanced at him, one brow reaching for the stars. Asta couldn't keep himself from grimacing, his grin a little forced. Jealousy was a cloud of black poison, pouring onto his heart and lungs, hissing and smelling like rotten eggs. How fast was that guy? Yuno had already changed into his spandex singlet, showing no more skin than he had to. Despite knowing him for YEARS, Asta couldn't remember spotting so much as one fucking glimpse of the other's crown-jewels. Even though they'd changed clothes in the same room more than once. For some, modesty was a damn understatement. A snort came over Asta. The far more important thing was that he'd gotten up early (even by his own standards), to reach and train on the skull of the wizard king's greatest victory. How many pushups could one person perform without exploding? Well, he'd (almost) figured that out. Nothing helped more with training than nature; the feeling of rough bark under one's palm, birds chirping, cracking leaves, trees dancing with the sun and breaking into different shades of green...
"Yo, dude, look what I've got," he called out with another, stronger grin.
And there Asta was, posing, naked as all hell, flexing, making a muscular biceps stand out against the rest of his arm. And indeed, his grin traveled the room.
"Looks pretty damn good, aye?"
What... the hell? Asta blinked. Yuno was already in a hurry, walking out of this locker-room, muttering, saying he'd meet with William Vengeance prior to practice. Some people, really! Asta grinned, turning back to his locker and shaking the own head, snorting.
"Whatever, dude."
They'd been friends for so long, rivals, really. Yuno had been soft, kind and sensitive as a child, yes, he’d tear up when he HEARD of something bad happening, would whimper under other kids' wedgies and pantsings, searching for missing dogs and cats throughout entire nights, hugging sobbing peers until they calmed down. But then he'd become stoic, looking almost... bored most of the time. Ever since... Whatever the case, once they'd both made it onto the wrestling team, Asta had made it his life's mission to send the other guy onto the ground in matches as often as possible. Granted, Yuno was taller and somewhat bulkier, yet Asta mad up for that with tricky moves, turning their confrontations into something far more even. Why even pretend? Asta wouldn't have wanted it any other way. Bending down, sniffing to see what the jockstraps... condition was, Asta felt a hard "SLAP" bouncing off his butt.
"OH!"
He widened his eyes. Gasped. Stood up.
"The fuck?!"
He looked behind himself to see... Luck Voltia. Of course. Asta's features hardened while he studied the other one; his short stature, light blue eyes, and medium-length messy blond hair which tended to cover his ears and forehead. Luck's outfit typically consisted of an aqua-blue tunic with long, loose sleeves. He'd also become known for his near-constant smile, which earned him the nickname "Smiling Battle Maniac". If "Littlle Brother" could be boiled into a human, Luck would have been that person. The team's obnoxious loudmouth, Luck kept putting glue on classmates' chairs or benches, would pull dozens of pants down on an average school-day and loved pulling up other boys’ underwear, usually 'till he'd escape or hang from the flagpole. Just yesterday he'd kicked Asta's ankle time and time again until he'd "melvined" him onto pissing off. The mere memory made Asta scowl. Now, though, Luck wrung out his hand and grinned at the mark he'd left on Asta's left ass cheek. Whistling, the younger boy grinned, showing the teeth and sparking eyes of a toddler. He laughed, even.
"Sorry, bro, shouldn't have been that easy of a target, you know? Left yourself real open," he said.
Putting out his lips as if to kiss, Lucky moved and reprimanded with one finger. He'd changed into his singlet, too. Well, they'd been pretty good at last year's competitions, freeing their mummy of a principle of SOME dust, at least, so that she'd spent some more cash on them and their equipment. As a result of that they'd even been allowed to walk in the shoes of custom-made colors, so far as their leotards were concerned. Well, at least Luck was athletic, not even Asta would have tried to deny that much. Besides: Somebody had been to the studio, judging by his tanned arms. Frowning, Asta studied the other one and raised a brow. In his heart was a pan of oil, starting… to… hiss…
"I'd keep my hands to myself if I were you, dipshit," he tried to sound casual, bored, almost, a stone-face.
A child's smile remained on Luck's lips. He hummed, tilted his head to the side.
"Or you'll do what?", he asked.
Goddamnit, Asta thought. Almost did he roll his eyes. Luck lived to challenge whoever he could. Starting as an unstable outsider, the topic of gossip and crude jokes, Luck had thrown himself into a combination of willpower, hard work, and flat-out enthusiasm, rising to become one of the better grapplers. Well, not that he could have held his ground against Asta. Of course. He might have lost to Luck that one time but, hey, shit happened. Even to the best. They'd been kids then, after all. The blond's blue eyes kept staring and Asta felt prompted to clarify.
"Or I might bend your tiny ass over and smack some goddamn sense into it - right here and right now," Asta said, grinning back, though with a hint of danger and impatience.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah!"
Though Luck tended to forget his place, Asta (or Yuno) could always be trusted to remind the kiddo. Not that spandex-wedgie Yuno was anywhere in sight right now. Left to myself, Asta thought with annoyance; a bear of fire biting his mind, growling, its smoke smelling like burned tires. Rolling his eyes, Asta bent down, noticing a... reset (?) lying on the tiles? He'd gotten distracted by it. But this was a trick as well, daring Luck to take one more shot at his muscular ass, all in the framing of this last promise. Didn't take long for the expected "SLAP" to come about. On the other cheek. Would that moron never learn? Asta sighed. He got up, granting his, ha, opponent a half-pissed, half-amused "Oh, you're fucked" look. And to his credit: even Luck understood, backing away nervously until his shoulders knocked against a locker, echoing. "Oh, come on, man! Just a couple spanks, you know? Better than Fini’s paddle, am I right?"
He gulped and turned his shaking lips into a smile. Oh. Yeah. Like Asta required reminding of the melvin contest they'd fought... until Finral had taught his younger sibling-students a lesson. They'd been bent over, naked feet on the smooth, cold floor of the gym, butt touching butt. Naked from the waist down, underpants around their ankles. Eventually, this spanking had transitioned into the only time they'd been wedgied side by side, too. Oh, never would Asta forget that burning feeling, the sturdy piece of wood slamming against his ass until he feared to cry... Not that this would deter him from putting some serious hurt on Luck. If anything, it strengthened the desire for it.
Asta pulled Luck into the bathroom and pinned him up against the wall. Anger screamed in his veins. The own grin exposed sharp teeth in Asta’s mouth.
"Remember that time I got a week of detention because of you?"
And, believe it or not, Luck smiled at the memory. Smiled!
"You think this is amusing?"
Looked like he’d gambled too much respect away. Shit, he should have beaten up Luck much earlier.
"A little," the blond boy admitted.
"Then I hope you find pain funny too, nerd!"
Asta hissed as he grabbed the back of Luck’s briefs, shooting him into the air!
"Ugh!”
Luck grunted in pain.
Music in Asta’s ears. He started bouncing him up and down making the nerd’s eyes well up again.
"Nerds need to know their place."
Asta carried the loser over to the orange toilet.
"Let's go for a swim."
He then shoved Luck’s head in the toilet and flushed! Asta pulled the nerd’s head back out, allowing him to start panting. Asta soon shoved his victim’s head back into the toilet then flushed once more, letting the toilet refill and flushed again without giving Luck a break in between. He let go and Senior Loser sat back, soaked hair hanging into his youthful face.
Before he could get up Asta grabbed the front of his tighty whities and bounced the douche in the air once more!
"ah, ow, ugh, please, ow, stop!"
Luck yelled, though Asta just kept bouncing him. Pride and a winner’s pleasure was inside him, stars winking.
"Want me to stop?" he asked and Luck nodded his head.
"You should have thought about that before you ruffled my fur."
Asta’s voice lacked mercy – he snickered before hanging the front of Luck underwear on the green stall door. Then he grabbed the back of Luck’s underwear and yanked up and down giving the bitch a squeaky clean wedgie half provided by man half by hook. After about a minute or two of a non-stop squeaky clean wedgie he let go, making the poor boy dangle by the front of my briefs while he cried from pain. At this point the front of Luck’s waistband was up to his chin and showed no signs of ripping except for the occasional pop of a thread. Sadism made Asta’s eyes glow. He let the blondo down then grabbed the back of his waistband, giving one final yank before he hooked it onto the forehead! This was one hell of a step in the wedgie-bitch-career! Luck had gotten a wedgie here and there before but never atomic.
"If you tell anybody about this or get me in more trouble I'll wedgie you so hard you'll need surgery to remove the cotton from your crack!”
Asta narrowed his eyes.
“Got it?"
"Yeah," Luck replied, still weak and in excruciating pain.
"Good. let's get outta here," Asta said, leading his victim out of the school, undies still hooked on the wet forehead.
When they got to the door he pushed the dork outside and then walked towards practice. Towards victory.
