“Fuckin’ great game, wasn’t it Tommy?” Coach Billings came up behind the chubby linebacker in the locker room and gave him a smack on the ass–between the cheeks, right on the plug the young man had had shoved in his hole all evening, under his uniform. He tried to suppress his shock, feeling his cock leak a bit of precum into the pouch of his jock. Billings knew the plug was there of course–Billings himself had put it there before the rest of the team had arrived in the locker room.
Four weeks now. Four fucking weeks he’d been his coach’s “little fuckpig” as he often referred to him in private, or whispered in his ear, making the young man blush heavily. He didn’t even remember how it had started–one day coach had asked him to stick around for a moment after practice, and without really understanding why, he’d ended up on his knees in the coach’s office, his cock down his throat. He’d never had so much as a gay thought in his life, but from that moment on, if Coach needed satisfaction, then Tommy was going to provide it. He’d tried to report it, but he hadn’t been able to get a word out–either because of the shame of it all…or because coach wouldn’t allow it, and he wasn’t sure which possibility would be worse.
Coach had already told him that he’d need to stay late, and so he milled around, leaving his uniform on. He got a few odd looks from his teammates, who wondered why he wasn’t at least changing back into his street clothes, but Coach had been very specific before hand–leave the uniform on, keep the plug in, and wait further instructions. After about ten minutes, the rest of the team had filed out, leaving them alone, and with a couple of words from the coach, words he knew and yet…didn’t, it was like the world turned blurry, like he was there, but not. Coach was talking to him gently, just above a whisper, and again, while part of him understood him and internalized his instructions–even answering back when prompted–Tommy had no idea what he was talking about, like he had been forced from his body, and could only return when Coach started counting down from ten–by the time he hit one, he shook his head, unsteady on his feet, and the coach helped steady him, pulling him into a hug…but something felt…off.
Small. He felt…small, in the coach’s arms. Granted, Billings was a sizeable guy–a few inches over six feet, and while he was out of shape, he had remained beefy into his mid-forties. But in his arms, Tommy suddenly felt…weak and small and…and safe, and comfortable. Billings hugged him closer, breath hot on the back of his neck, and he licked the sweat and grit from the player, and then released him, and Tom stumbled, not quite steady without his daddy holding him tight. What in the hell was wrong with him all of a sudden? He took a few steps and got to a mirror in the locker room, only to gasp.
What in the world was wrong with him? He was still in his uniform, but he looked like he’d…shrunk. He knew that wasn’t possible, that it couldn’t be possible–people didn’t just shrink! Coach Billings just watched him walk to the scale used by the wrestling team, and he stepped on it–260 pounds, the same as he always was. Then what it the world was wrong with him? Why did his body suddenly look so puny in the mirror?
“What…what did you do to me, daddy?” He asked Billings, “Why do I look so…small?”
“Because you’re just a little boy, Tommy–my little boy. Still, if you’re good, then we can make sure you become big and strong like before…if that’s what you want.” He stepped closer to him, and even though they were nearly the same height, Tommy felt helpless in his arms, his daddy pulling him over to the sink, pulling down his uniform pants, and hauling the plug from his boy’s hole. “Here, let me show you what I can do for you.”
It hurt–but not as much as it did sometimes. The plug had him loose, but his Coach–his Daddy–he was always rough, but…but he did kind of like it…didn’t he? He tried to push the thought away, knowing it had been planted in there, but his cock was hard and pressing against his cup in his shorts, and he was pushing back into his daddy’s thrusts, and when he looked up and saw himself in the mirror, it looked like…like he was inflating. Each time his daddy slammed into him, he got a bit bigger–soon, he looked even bigger than he had been before, and he was eagerly pushing back, wanting to see how big his daddy could make him, when Billing’s finally grabbed onto his shoulder pads, buried deep in his boy’s hole, and let loose, and Tommy had never felt so…so huge. And…and so horny. When coach pulled out, he already had his hands in his pants, jacking his cock, but as soon as he did, he watched his figure begin to shrink and wither again–terrified, he yanked his hand away from his cock.
It was all a trick, just a trick of his eyes, and yet…
“I’d be careful, touching your cock. You might just wither away to nothing.”
This…this fucker.
“You don’t want to be small, do you? You don’t want to be weak? You want to be a man, a real man, like your daddy, right?”
He nodded.
“Well, then we’re going to have to keep it under control, right? And you’re going to have to start working out much more, I think. And we’ll have to talk about your caloric intake too, right? If you want to be a man, that is. I can help you, but only if you ask. Only if you agree to do everything I tell you, without question…or else I might not help you at all, anymore.”
No. No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t say it. No, no…No!
***
He said yes, of course.
It was several hours later when he was finally permitted to leave. Coach had iced his boy’s cock and locked it up for him–to make sure he’d be able to resist the urge to play with it. He’d just have to focus on his new weight lifting regimen and the 4000 calorie a day diet his daddy was insisting on. He got back to his room, and looked at himself. He was still…big, but he was shrinking still–the coach’s load of cum was only good for so long. He’d look puny in the morning–thankfully he had his first weight session with his coach tomorrow morning–he had a feeling he’d be feeling pretty pumped by the end of it.
And as much as he hated admitting it, he was looking forward to it–his cock was pressing against in his new cage, the dirty plug still in his hole, and he fucked himself to sleep–well aware that he was in a cage much larger than the one holding his cock.
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