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The locker room, a temple of sweat and testosterone, becomes a battleground for his self-worth. His tormentors, their muscles glistening with soap and water, surround him, their cocks swinging free, a stark contrast to his own. They taunt him, pushing him against the cold tiles, their bare skin slapping against his, a sick parody of intimacy. He's forced to his knees, their mocking words a mantra of his inadequacy, as he's made to worship their larger, harder cocks.