The Cavs had just fallen short again, this time to the Atlanta Hawks by a score of 117-115. Just a one possession game, JR Smith told himself. But LeBron knew better. So did Wade. Settling for close enough gets you nowhere in the big leagues. So as LeBron stood lathering his muscular frame in the showers of Cleveland Heights, analyzing the missed kick out threes and botched defensive assignments, he realized something. His passive aggressive leadership wasn’t going to win another one for The Land™.

LeBron walked out of that shower with just a damp towel around his midriff. He scoffed as Windhorst sucked air at the sight of LeBron’s bulge. Windy really wished he could see it, just once. It’d probably net him a front page article. But no. Today was not that day for Brian. LeBron teased the fat white boy as he had done since his day at St. Vincent St. Mary. He had a different goal in mind.

Into Tyronn Lue’s office LeBron strolled. Lue was sliding gummy bears around his oak desk, pretending to plan out defensive assignments in the wake of another poor showing.

LeBron paused for a second before accepting this was only the fourth most bizarre thing he’d seen Lue do this week. How could he forget the time Lue washed his feet in the hot tub LeBron was bathing in.

LeBron stared at the “coach.” Lue looked up, gummy bears still in hand.

“Lue, I been meaning to talk to you.”

“Raymone, I know what this is about.”

“Did you just call me by my middl-“

“Ssh. Let’s just-“

“No, fuck you; bend your fish ass over.”

Without saying another word LeBron dad dicked Tyronn like he hadn’t felt since Iverson.

Ripping through the JC Penny’s suit was easy enough for LeBron’s tight, thick, and solid cock. He’d been practicing on Wade for years.

Lue begged for mercy as tears streamed from his eyes, but LeBron only drove further into the hole. With every inch of his rod in Lue, he whispered into the ear of his “leader.”

“Man, you know it’s all about getting one for The Land™.”