Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 5)

One moment, Julian was there, and then the next, he wasn’t–or maybe he still was feet away from him, but Ray just couldn’t see him. The calm ebbed away, and the sheer terror of what Julian had just told him sank into his bones. After everything he’d seen today, after everything he’d just been through, he knew this was no bluff. If Noah went home–hell, if Noah stepped out of the house–then Ray knew he was done for. He’d be the one taking the fall. He’d be the one going to prison, and he had no doubt that Julian’s control of him ran deep enough that his time there–as a registered sex offender and pervert–would be horrific. He heard the water turn off in the bathroom, and he thought about his basement. He almost never used it–it had been a workshop at one point, but he’d never had much time for his long list of projects, especially now after his divorce. What in the hell could be down there, that Julian thought might help him? He knew he didn’t have time to go investigate, not with Noah about to step out at any moment, but he also didn’t know how to get Noah down there without alerting him that something was awry.

The bathroom door open, and the stench of fresh piss immediately derailed Ray’s thoughts, sending his cock to half mast. Half of him wanted to lunge forward, but his rational mind won out, and he took a few steps back, staring at Noah in the doorway, just as filthy as before. “What..Did…did you even take a shower? I heard the water running–”

“Yeah coach, I took a shower,” Noah said, matter of factly, but it was clear he hadn’t given himself the kind of shower he’d intended to. Either he was simply oblivious–which was likely–or Julian had ruined his mind in more ways than Ray might have thought. Then again, those two possibilites weren’t mutually exclusive either.

“Noah…Noah, look at yourself.”

The young man did, staring down at his sweaty body, freshly soaked in his own piss, and it was clear he was trying to make sense of what was going on. “I…I turned on the water. I even remember getting…under it, it was warm, and…and delicious…oh fuck…did I?”

He took off towards the stairs, away from Ray. “Noah–Noah!” Ray shouted and took off after him, “Noah wait!”

“Fuck this!” he shouted, “This shit is fucked, I just want to go home!”

Ray didn’t know what to do. He had to keep him here, he had to, no matter what. That was the only way he could buy himself enough time to figure out how to expose Julian and get his own life back. A thought occurred to him, and he hated himself for even considering it–but what choice did he have? Noah…Noah would understand, once all of this was over, why he did it, wouldn’t he? He’d have done the same thing if he was in Ray’s position.

Noah got to the door, was trying to work the locks with his trembling hands, and Ray didn’t stop–slamming into him, shoving him up against the door, his entire body pressed to Noah’s. The smell of him, especially the fresh piss, nearly drove him out of his mind, humping his cock against Noah’s ass. For a few moments, Noah kept trying to work the lock, but his hand slipped away as he groaned, allowing his coach to spin him around, grab his face, and pull it into his chest, feeling Noah lick up his sweat and chew at his nipples.

Focus, he had to focus. The basement, get to the damn basement! He fought the urge to just give in there, and fuck the pig right on the floor, seed his ass all over again, maybe…maybe even give him a shower of his own, since the little bitch liked being stinking wet so much. He pulled away, shocked by his own thoughts, but now that Noah had gotten another taste of his coach’s filthy body, he was advancing, drool dripping down his bearded chin, eyes slack. “Coach…fuck…why?” he muttered, but he couldn’t stop–and Ray backed away, leading him towards the back of the house towards the laundry room, and down the stairway into the basement below.

He flipped on the light, but went down backwards, so he could keep an eye on Noah, and make sure he followed. Everything went smoothly at first, but Noah stumbled about halfway down, tumbling right into coach, knocking them both down the rest of the flight where they landed on the dusty ground, Noah on top, and he went back to licking him clean, grinding his own hard cock against his coach’s thigh, while Ray tried to recover from his daze. Looking around, him trying not to think about how fucking good Noah smelled right now, he could see that his basement was no longer a workshop–no, at some point it had been converted into a very well equipped sex dungeon. He just stared at the racks and tables, unable to imagine how all of this could have gotten here without him knowing it, but there was Julian, in the center of the room, holding a metal collar in his hands. A short chain was attached to it, leading to the cement floor where it was attached. Julian set it down, and vanished once more.

The cruelty was welling up in him again, he could feel it. He forced his way out from under Noah, who crawled after him towards the center of Ray’s new dungeon until they reached the collar–he allowed Noah to chew and suck at one of his armpits, while he picked the metal collar up and examined it with his other hand. It had an open padlock hooked in it, all he had to do was get it around Noah’s neck, close the hinge, and lock it. Could…he really do this to him? Did he have a choice? Trying not to think too hard about it, he slipped it around Noah’s neck, the young man barely aware of what he was doing but powerless to stop him anyway, and then he clicked the padlock into place.

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 4)

The coach was behind him, and he hadn’t looked around–but he heard Ray stand up, and he whirled around, fear locked in his eyes, but when he saw his coach, he relaxed a bit. “C-Coach? Oh god, did he get you too? Is he here?”

“Is who here, Noah?” Ray asked, happy to avoid the subject of why they were both naked in his kitchen.

“Master Porter, is he here?”

“He was, but he left.”

Noah swore, and then broke down into tears, shivering and shaking, “Oh fuck, it’s not fucking over, why can’t it just be over!”

“Noah, it’s just us!” Ray said, “I saw him leave.”

“He doesn’t leave,” Noah shouted, “We just can’t fucking see him!” He stood up and put his back to the wall, looking all around the room, “We can’t see him, but he’s always there, of fucking Christ! Just leave me alone! I said I was sorry, please!” He screamed the last words at the empty room, to nowhere in particular, “Please, please…”

Ray was torn. He wanted to comfort him, but he also knew that if he got too close…he didn’t want to get trapped in a cycle like the one he’d just experienced. Instead, he got Noah to focus on him, and together they did a breathing exercise he’d taught the team to help them calm down and focus, in order to recover from a mistake. About five minutes later, both of them felt marginally better.

Noah looked out the window, and started to laugh, “My parents are going to be worried sick, I should have been home hours ago.”

Ray wasn’t sure what he meant. “Noah…you’ve been missing for about three months.” Noah just stared at him, and Ray wasn’t sure what to add. “It’s June, Noah. School ended a few days ago. No one has seen you since March.”

“But I just…I remember walking home, and then Master was there and I had to follow him. Then…then I was here,” Noah said.

“You don’t…remember anything?”

“Oh god, I have to get home!” Noah said, and headed for the front door, “My parents, they must be worried sick.” He grabbed his own clothes and threw them on as quickly as he could, and then headed for the front of the house.

Ray hurried after him, “Noah, wait! You…hold on, you can’t go, please, just listen to me,” Ray said, and managed to get between him in the door, but too close. Both of them caught a whiff of each other, and quickly backed away, the sudden flame of desire reignited. “You can’t…go home looking like that.”

“Noah looked down at himself then, and saw his body. What he was wearing, his gut. He grabbed the flab, unable to believe it was real. “I…when did…”

“We can figure this out Noah, please, just trust me.”

Noah looked up at him, “Please coach, just let me go home…don’t help him.”

“I’m not helping him.”

Noah didn’t say anything, but it was clear he didn’t believe him.

“Noah, you have to understand. He’s trying to frame me for this! If he can implicate me instead, then I’ll go to jail, and that fucker will get his job back, and who knows how many people he’ll do this to. Please, Noah, just trust me on this…help me.”

“I just want to go home,” Noah said, crying again.

“I know.”

“Can I at least call them?”

Ray shook his head. “I can’t trust you Noah. I can’t trust that you would tell the truth. I can’t even trust that I would tell the truth, if the police knocked on the door right now. We have to stay here. Look, let’s…let’s take some showers, and that’ll…help. Then we can figure out what to do, alright?”

Noah looked at the front door behind his coach, and then nodded. “I guess…I shouldn’t show up smelling like this.”

Ray smiled, and at a distance, showed Noah to the bathroom, heard the water start up. He turned to head for his bedroom, only to find the hallway blocked by none other than Julian Porter. Ray tried to shout, tried to run at him and attack him, but Julian spoke first, “Calm, Coach.”

Immediately a perfect euphoria swept over him, and he nearly fell to the floor as his muscles lost all their tension. He only managed to stay upright by leaning against the wall beside him.

“That’s better. We wouldn’t want to disturb Noah, now would we? The boy’s in such a fragile state, after that…brutal fucking you gave him down there. I had no idea you could be such a beast!”

“You…did this…to us…” Ray managed to say, but his tongue didn’t want to work that hard.

“Oh, let’s not focus on the past, Ray! You need to realize, that Noah here is never going to want to stay here. He’s going to want to get home, and as soon as he does, I promise you, he’ll tell his parents everything about how you’re the real abuser here. And like you just worried, if the police question you? You’ll spill the bean yourself, and then you’ll be going to jail for a very, very long time. And trust me, in jail? You’re going to spend a lot of time begging for cock, I guarantee it.”

“Ya…fuck…”

“Don’t worry Ray, if I wanted you to go to jail, I wouldn’t have gone to this much effort. No, what you need is right down in the basement. You’ll know what to do.”

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 3)

Ray didn’t notice that Porter had cum down Noah’s throat. He didn’t hear him leave, his entire mind had been overwhelmed with the athlete’s musk. His cock was so hard and leaking, but…but he couldn’t cum. He knew if he could just cum, maybe his mind would clear, but instead, the raging horniness only dragged him in deeper. Without warning, Noah’s cock released a torrent of piss into his spandex, sending Ray’s senses in overdrive–he lost track of what happened after that, the two of them ripping each other’s clothes off their bodies, writhing around in the puddle of piss and sweat on the kitchen floor.

The more of a taste he got, the rougher Ray felt himself becoming, and he sensed Noah slowly relenting to his dominance, the young man presenting his ass to his coach, grinding it against the older man’s thick cock, grunting and mewling, neither of them capable of stringing together a sentence. Still, Ray relented as long as he could, desperately trying anything else to cum, but he only grew more certain that what he wanted–what he needed–was to fuck Noah. The drive overwhelmed him eventually. He shoved Noah down onto his stomach in the middle of the piss, climbed on top of him, and as soon as he penetrated that loose hole, something changed.

Thinking back, he struggled for a way to describe what, exactly, he experienced, each time he fucked Noah. On one hand, it felt like he was suddenly wearing colored glasses–nothing had really changed, but everything appeared to be completely different. This didn’t seem to fully capture what he experienced however. It was also like being lost in the woods and utterly certain you have been walking east…only to discover, in a moment, that your whole orientation was utterly wrong, and you’d been travelling West the whole time. A deep sense of vertigo and disorientation. Still, even that couldn’t capture the sensation that he was no longer himself. Not only had he been travelling in the wrong direction, he hadn’t even been the right person travelling in the wrong direction.

What all this meant, is that as soon as his cock had slid inside Noah, his head popping through his cherry, a cruel sneer evolved across the coach’s face, he dug his hands into Noah’s hips, hard enough to bruise, and drove his cock in deeper with a roar, flinging spittle across the boy’s back. “Yeah you fucking pig, you fucking piece of shit!” he screamed, “Take your master’s cock, fucking take it!” Ray (if he even was Ray at that moment, which isn’t how he had felt) wanted to hurt him, wanted to tear into him. Wanted to cause pain and humiliation, wanted to ruin him. Beneath him, Noah simply snorted and grunted mindlessly, slamming his hips and ass back to meet his coach’s brutal thrusts, face smearing across the filthy tile, eyes glassy wide. Noah came first, and Ray didn’t even notice, his entire mind focused on his own pleasure, on destroying this disgusting pig he was fucking. He had kept up the stream of obscenities for a few minutes, but now Ray was simply yelling his voice raw, biting and scratching at Noah’s back, a few deep enough to draw blood, before with a deep howl, he finally spilled his seed deep in Noah’s guts, but kept slamming into him, until his softening cock popped free, and it was like everything shifted back all at once, and he was himself again.

He scrambled backwards, away from Noah–who was still lolling in the puddle of piss, his hole leaking his coach’s cum, and the entire event felt like a dream to Ray. Noah had been unaffected by the sudden absence of his coach’s cock–he was still licking at the piss coated tile, eyes rolled back in pleasure, bucking his hips into the floor. Ray could remember doing everything, could remember everything he’d thought and said but he hadn’t wanted to do any of it. He hadn’t wanted to, and yet he had. And as much as he hated it, as much as he tried to deny it, he’d…liked it. He’d liked it enough to think, just for a moment, about crawling back over there and…and mounting that whore’s fat ass all over again, really working to make that pig squeal this time. He caught himself falling forward, and instead threw himself back against the cabinets behind, hard enough for his head to smart. Taking a few breaths, he finally managed a soft, “N-Noah?” his voice hoarse. “Noah!” He tried again a bit louder.

He didn’t get an answer, and so Ray just sat there, fifteen feet away, his back to the counter, trying to figure out what he was going to do. He’d just molested one of his own students. Worse, he’d put on a show that, had anyone seen him perform it, would incriminate him for certain. He looked around the room–Julian had invaded his house, but had he set up cameras? Was this his plan? He grabbed his clothes where he’d thrown them, feeling horribly vulnerable and exposed. Sure, they were filthy, but having his shirt, jockstrap and shorts back on also made him feel…safe. As he tried to figure out what he could possibly do to convince anyone he’d been set up, Noah slowly began to calm down, his sighs of pleasure and lust becoming gasps. He finally picked himself up out of the puddle, on his hands and knees, looked around and asked, “Oh god, now where am I?”

Coach Ray Gets Framed (Part 2)

Noah charged at Ray, bent low for a tackle. The coach managed to slip to the side, and Noah glanced off him, unable to get a solid grip. He moved away as Noah slammed into the wall behind him, and he kept the kitchen island between them. “Noah,” he said, “Noah, where…where have you been? Everyone’s been worried sick about you.”

“Coach, I fucked up man, I fucked up. I’m a fuck up!” Noah said, slamming his head against the wall, “Fuck! He’s in my head and I know it but you smell so fucking good, I…I gotta…” he turned and started stalking toward him and Ray maneuvered around the island, keeping it between them. They made two circuits when he saw the third person watching him from the other side of the room–Julian Porter.

“You! What the fuck have you done to him?” Ray said, still slipping around the island as Noah pursued him.

Porter didn’t say anything, he just watched them for a moment, and then said, “Coach, remove sensory block Alpha.”

It hit him like a brick, the stink in the room. He didn’t know what it was, and he was momentarily distracted, searching for the foul odor. It reeked like a locker room, like a bar bathroom, a month old cumrag. Noah took advantage of the coach’s confusion, dove over the narrow section of the island, and pulled the coach close to him, shoving his face into Ray’s chest, snorting and licking at his shirt…his…filthy fucking shirt.

It was then that Ray realized where the stench was coming from–it was coming from him. Suppressing a gag, he wrenched himself away from Noah, looking down at himself. His usually white shirt was stained brown and yellow with who knew what, the black mesh shorts he was wearing didn’t have as much visible evidence, but they felt crispy, as did the jockstrap he was wearing, though he was too terrified to look at it. “What…how the fucking…what the fuck is this?” he screamed at Porter.

“Oh, you’ve been wearing those clothes for over a month straight now. Cumming into them. Pissing into them. Working out in them.” He smiled wide, “What, don’t you…remember?” The emphasis on that last word, the way Porter drew it out long, chilled Ray, but Noah had climbed off the counter and ran at him–this time Ray wasn’t so lucky to dodge him. Noah hit him square in the chest, driving him back against the counter, and they both toppled to the floor, Noah on top of him, snorting into his shirt, at his pits, licking at his face, all the while grinding against Ray’s body. The spandex shorts he had on did nothing to disguise how hard the young man’s cock was, and Ray tried to shove him off, but he was too heavy.

“What the fuck, get him off me!”

“Now coach, you’ve been looking so hard for Noah, aren’t you happy to see him?”

“You fucking piece of shit, what the fuck did you do?”

Porter didn’t answer right away. He walked over, his feet on both sides of Ray’s head. He unzipped his fly, pulled out his cock, and Noah immediately sucked it into his maw, the whole of his weight planted on Ray’s chest, still grinding against him. “You fucked up a good thing of mine, Ray, a real good thing I had going. All the fresh meat I could want, and none of them even knew about it! A victimless crime, since none of them even knew they were victims. And really, I have you to thank–you, were the one who told them to take my computer science courses! They were easy A’s, you’d say. I mean, I might have had a small hand in that recommendation of yours, sure, but my classes were easy for your sexiest athletes. I never flunked a student of mine if they were sucking my cock. This one got a bit wise to it, but he would have settled back down if you hadn’t stuck your dirty nose in my business, coach.”

Something was wrong with him. He kept trying to struggle out from under Noah, but this close to him, he could actually smell…smell him, how filthy he was, and it was making him hard. He wormed his way down, but only managed to get his head locked between Noah’s thick thighs, the spandex coated with sweat, and then he couldn’t get ary further. In terror, he realized his mouth was open and licking at the student’s spandex clad taint, one his hands down the front of his shorts, massaging his cock which had grown inexplicably hard.

“Oh, very good coach, I see you’re already adjusting to your programming rather well.”

Programming? His mind flashed back to his computer in his office, how even this afternoon he’d fallen asleep at the keyboard. It hadn’t been the first time. In fact he’d…been doing that a lot lately. He’d always just passed it off as stress and exhaustion, as worry over Noah. He’d been thinking about Noah so much, about how much he missed him, about how much he wanted him. He pushed himself back up, rubbing his own scruffy face against the athlete’s cock, sucking at the cum crusted spandex, thinking about all of the fantasies, all the desires he’d kept bottled up for so long. No! No, these weren’t his! They weren’t his, but they felt so…real. They felt just like his own thoughts, they felt so authentic, this desire. How did he know it wasn’t real?

“Amazing, isn’t it? Just a big computer, you know, stuck in all of our heads. So easy to…fry a few circuits if you know what you’re doing. Lucky for us, I know what I’m doing, right coach?” He fucked Noah’s mouth a bit deeper, his breathing a bit ragged, “Still, I know how…deeply you care for Noah here, I know you’ve always wanted him as yours, and so, as a sign of how much I respect your filthy, dirty nose, I’m going to give him to you. Sure am going to miss this mouth of his though. Still, you should be careful with him–I wouldn’t want to be caught with a runaway teen, you know, especially after your…connection to all of that child abuse happening at the high school. I mean, the only person who had as much contact with those students as I did was, well, you.”

Coach Ray Gets Trained (Sketch)

Ray gave a start, and shook his head; he was falling asleep at his computer again, so it must be time to head home. He looked up at the clock in his office, in the high school locker room, and was surprised that it was already seven. He must have really dozed off there, for a while. Ray Montaigne was the head coach at River Hills High School, and he was one of the student bodies favorite teachers. He wasn’t quite in peak physical shape anymore, unfortunately–he was in his late forties, had a bit of a gut, but he could still run a nine minute mile, and bench press 200, so he wasn’t doing too badly.

He put his arms up in a stretch, and caught a whiff of his pits–damn, they stank today, he hadn’t even really done much activity himself. He mostly taught health, as well as a few PE classes, and it was right at the beginning of the winter trimester, so the sport teams hadn’t even gotten going yet. Had…had he taken a shower this morning? Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t, had he? Had he taken one yesterday? He leaned in and took another sniff, and then another, then stuck out his tongue and gave it a lick–and only after that did he question what he was doing. This was disgusting–why in the hell had he just licked his own armpit? Why…why did he want to do it some more? And why was his cock getting hard in his shorts?

Leaving one arm up, he pushed the shorts down, revealing his jockstrap, tented by his cock. It was…kind of odd that he was wearing a jock. Sure, he made his athletes wear them, but he’d always found boxers more comfortable. Last week though, he’d…kind of wanted to wear a jock, and had…had he even changed it since? Another, funkier smell his his nose, making his cock throb, and he realized he hadn’t. He’d worn the same jock for a week–he didn’t think he’d even taken it off once. That…that was disgusting, right? He definitely shouldn’t be so turned on by how…how rank it smelled…right? Then…then why was he groping his cock through the mesh? He realized he had, without realizing it, turned his face into his other pit, and had been taking deep, long snorts of his own musk at the same time–he tried to stop, but…but he couldn’t. In fact, he suddenly felt like his entire body was running on autopilot, like he couldn’t even control himself. And so, it was with great embarrassment that he saw through the glass window of his office someone enter the locker room in a hoodie, look around, and head for his office door, open it, and step inside.

He couldn’t see who it was–not with his face stuck in his armpit. The person just laughed softly, set something down on the desk in front of him, and then turned around and left as quickly as he’d come. Ray managed to rip his face away long enough to see what it was, and found himself looking at a dildo. A…sizable dildo, in fact. His hand pulled itself away from his cock and grabbed it, his face turning back to his armpit for another lick, and he put his feet up on the desk, tipping his office chair back, feeling his hole as he started pushing the dildo in dry, groaning and muttering in pain, but he couldn’t stop himself–and then he saw that he was being observed.

Outside his office, through the window, he saw the man in the hoodie who’d just left the dildo had been joined by another man–this one, however, he recognized. It was Jullian Porter–the computer science teacher who had quit the year before, after being accused of molesting several seniors in his classes. Ray had good reason to know him–two of his football players had been targets, and he was the person who had first accused Jullian. No one had been able to prove anything; none of the boys could remember details of what had happened while they were alone with Mr. Porter, but he’d been forced out all the same. Julian smiled at him, and pulled back the hoodie on the person with him, revealing…Noah. Noah Ambert, his star quarterback, who, after the humiliation of the entire ordeal, had dropped out of school shortly after Porter had quit, and no one had heard from him since. They…they were together?

He had to clench his eyes, the dildo hurt so much, but he couldn’t stop. There were another couple of inches to go, but he already felt so fucking full…his hand didn’t care, it just kept twisting and pushing and shoving, and as soon as the dildo was lodged to the root, he felt his cock start spasming, pumping cum into the mesh of his jock, Ray whimpering in something between pain and pleasure–he looked up again, and Julian was still watching him, but Noah was on his knees…sucking Julian’s cock, right in front of him, and he couldn’t do anything. His hand was pumping the dildo now, and he could feel it sliding in and out a bit easier now…and he was kind of enjoying it, even though he knew, in his head, that this couldn’t be happening. This kept going for several minutes, until Julian came down Noah’s throat, and then he walked around and into Ray’s office, behind him.

“Good to see you’ve taken so well to the programs coach,” he said in Ray’s ear, “You’re going to be so much fun in my stable. You aren’t really my kind of man, of course, I like them a bit…younger, smoother, muscled…but I’m sure we can find a use for you, once you’re…well seasoned.” Before Ray could respond, he added, “End trial, enter neutral state.” Ray’s eyes went blank, his mouth gaping–his feet slipped from the desk and he returned to a normal sitting position. Julian leaned in and gave him a kiss on the neck, before saying into his ear, “Erase memory of program trial. Add desire, dildo. Enhance desire, pit musk. Enhance desire, jock musk. Resume consciousness in two minutes.”

Julian turned and left the locker room, Noah getting up and following after him. Two minutes later, Ray gave a start, and shook his head; he was falling asleep at his computer again, so it must be time to head home. He looked up at the clock in his office, in the high school locker room, and was surprised that it was already seven forty-five. He must have really dozed off there, for a while. He rocked a bit on the dildo in his ass and moaned a bit, before he pulled his shorts up and got his things together, turned out the lights, and headed home.

Coach’s Lil’ Fuckpig (Sketch)

“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.

The Doctor and the Loser

***WARNING*** Contains light scat.

***

“Good afternoon team.”

“Good afternoon Dr. Jacobs,” the football team replied in near unison. They were all seated on the benches in the locker room, their eyes empty and glazed, just staring at the jeweled necklace the doctor was wearing. Standing next to him was the team’s coach–a very large, hulk of a man, but he looked like he might fall over at any moment; his arms were limp, his back slouching forward. The only part of him that held any tension was his neck, which craned his head around so he could keep looking at the jewel the doctor was wearing. It was so beautiful after all–he didn’t want to stop looking at it. He never wanted it to leave his sight for as long as he lived.

“Alright team, as you know, your coach here hired me so that I could help eliminate the culture of losing which has been the primary reason for these many, many long and grueling losses your team has suffered. Now, when I came here, I knew that a team which had lost for so long would have deep seated roots of failure throughout it. What I didn’t expect, was for so many of those roots to have a single trunk, which could be ripped out so easily. Now team, your coach and I have just had a long, serious talk, and…well, maybe it would be better for your coach to say it.”

The doctor looked over at the coach, but the man didn’t notice–his eyes were still locked on the necklace.

“Coach? Do you have something you would like to admit to your team?”

“Whaa…?” The big man said, noticing for the first time that the doctor was speaking, “Oh…uh…oh yeah, I do.” With some reluctance, the coach pulled his eyes away from the necklace and faced his senior varsity football team. “Uh…team…team, I hate to, uh, have to tell you this. But the doc and I, well, we’ve discovered that…that I’m a Loser.”

The whole room gasped. Dr. Jacobs had told them about Losers before–about how dangerous they were to a team’s chances of winning. The doctor had told them all that they were very close to becoming Losers themselves, and that was the main reason they obeyed him and did everything he asked, no matter how strange. Becoming a loser was simply too terrible a prospect to risk. But to find out that their coach was a Loser? No wonder they’d lost so many games! With a Loser coaching them, they would have been coached to lose!

“What the fuck is a Loser doing coaching us Doctor!” Simon, the team captain shouted.

“Yeah!” Vinny said, “He might have turned *woof* us all into Losers!”

The doctor held up his hands and the team settled down again. “I know, I know. It was never my intention to put you all at risk. I thought I had determined that the coach wasn’t a Loser when he hired me, but I was wrong. You see, the coach had no idea that he is a Loser–after all, Losers are very good at deceiving themselves, but now that we know this, we have both agreed that there is no way he can remain your coach, isn’t that right?”

The coach nodded, his face reddening, “I…I’m sorry boys. If…if I had known, I would have never put you in this kind of danger. But since the season has already started, I technically have to remain your coach…but for now, I’m putting all of you in the hands of the doctor. I can’t think of anyone who might help you all win more than he will.”

The coach took off his whistle and handed it to the Doctor, who placed it around his neck, being sure it didn’t get in the way of the necklace. “Alright,” the doctor said, “I think that’s enough Loser shit for now. Forget him boys! Now, Simon, go lead the team through stretches and a jog!”

“You heard the coach, team!” Simon said, “Let’s go!”

The team all charged past the two men and ran onto the field, leaving the Doctor and the Coach alone in the locker room, and the Coach looked like he was about to cry. “I…I don’t want to be a Loser, doctor! I don’t! Please, please can you help me be a winner like you?” He got down on his knees in front of the doctor, hands clasped, “Please, I’ll do anything–anything!”

The doctor shook his head. “I’m sorry, but once you become a Loser–a true Loser–there’s nothing you can do. You’re going to be a Loser for life…but…well, no, It’s a lot to ask of Loser like you, and I don’t know if I can trust you.”

“What?” the coach asked, “What is it? Please, if it can help–if it can help the team win, if it can help me, I’ll do it, I’ll do anything for you.”

The doctor smiled. “Well, alright. You see, having Losers around can be dangerous, unless they know their proper place. But you, I think you’ll fit into your proper place just fine. Come on, let’s go into my office and have a chat about what you’ll be doing from now on.”

The doctor walked towards the coach’s office, and the coach started to get up and follow him, but the doctor looked over his shoulder, “No. Crawl, you fucking Loser. Loser’s don’t walk like winners–that’s the first fucking lesson we’re going to have to get into that Loser head of yours, got it?”

“Yes, yes, I understand.”

“Yes sir, Loser!” the doctor shouted, “You don’t talk to me like I’m equal to you–I’m not a fucking Loser, do you understand? You address me, and the whole team, as Sir, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir! Yes sir, I understand.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to use you after all–you might be the sorriest Loser I’ve ever seen!”

“No!” the coach shouted, “Please sir, please–I’ll do anything–anything!”

The doctor stared at the now sobbing coach, on his hands and knees on the concrete floor, and smirked. “Alright, come on Loser.” The doctor stepped into his new office, and the coach crawled after him, “We have a lot of work to do if we’re going to make you the worst Loser this team has ever seen.”

***

They won.

In one of the biggest turnarounds the county had ever seen–the Silverside High Vipers won the district football championships. Hollering and shouting, the players streamed into the locker room, thrilled with their victory, carrying Coach Jacobs on their shoulders, and they gave their coach three cheers of thanks.

“Well done team!” Coach Jacobs said, “I honestly didn’t know if you had it in you all to be winners, but you proved me wrong!”

“Ha, we aren’t Losers coach, but we could have been. We have you to thank for that,” Simon said, and the team started hooting and shouting again, Vinny, on his hands and knees next to Simon, gave a loud howl, the team captain reaching down and giving the back of his pup’s head a long, deep scratching, Vinny rubbing his face up against his Captain, and Master’s, leg, his cock already hardening at the thought of the load of victory cum he would have the pleasure of swallowing soon.

“But now–now we have to announce the VIP!” the coach said, and the team fell silent in anticipation. “And I’m going to go with Mick!”

One of the linebackers started jumping up and down like a girl, and ran over to the coach, giving him a deep kiss. “Oh thank you coach, thank you! I tried so hard, I tried so hard just for you!”

“And you’re a winner Mick,” Coach Jacobs said, giving the big man’s ass a rough squeeze, “Now get in that office there, so I can give you your award.”

Mick licked his lips, and hurried into the office, the Coach following behind him, and left the players’ huddle to disperse into the pairs and triples which had formed naturally over the course of the season. Darren, however, broke away from Lewis for a moment, saying, “Hold on, I gotta piss before we fuck. Hey! Loser! Where the fuck are you? I gotta take a fucking leak, you worthless piece of shit!”

“Here, sir! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m here!” Loser said, as he crawled out from where he’d stayed out of sight. He had to stay out of sight until one of the team members needed him, or else he might break their winning streak. The several months since the good doctor had outed him as a Loser had not been easy for the old coach. He’d been tasked with being the repository for all of the teams loser aspects–all of their waste, all of their abuse, all of their humiliation. It hadn’t been easy, but what else was there for a Loser like him to do? He’d lived in the locker room, wearing nothing other than the oldest, nastiest jockstrap he could find in the lost and found bin. Coach Jacobs had taken good care of him, at least–or at least given him better care than a Loser like him deserved. Still, the diet of junk food and lack of exercise hadn’t helped the Loser’s figure. He was now well past obese, like most Losers are. He also hadn’t shaven or cut his hair in all this time–or taken a shower–and he stank almost as bad as Jerry did in his unwashed uniform, his beard caked with dried bits of shit that had collected there over the many practices and games where he’d served as the entire team’s toilet.

He crawled over and wrapped his lips around Darren’s cock, and drank the young man’s piss down, not spilling a single drop, trying not to moan in pleasure. He really was such a Loser–how else could it be that he would enjoy being one so much? It just felt…so much more natural to let things fall, to drink piss, and eat shit, and stink like a truck stop…with a shiver he felt his cock unload a wad of cum into his jockstrap–he couldn’t even control that anymore, he was such a fucking Loser–but he didn’t stop drinking, and he sucked and licked the head clean before crawling away back to his hiding spot–or he would have, if Jerry hadn’t called him over.

Several members of the team had gathered around him–after all, it was time for him to take off his gear, since this had been the last game of the season. He stripped off his rank jersey and socks, and then his jock, and said to the Loser, “Yo, clean me up, Loser–I haven’t had a proper bath in months!”

Loser went to work, licking Jerry’s body clean as quickly as he could, being very careful to touch him with no part of his body other than his tongue. He couldn’t risk spreading his Loser-ness to anyone on the team after all–and when Jerry was satisfied, he grabbed the Loser’s jaw, and stuffed his months-unwashed socks into his mouth, and then the pouch of his equally filthy jock, which he secured by wrapping the waist strap around the old coaches head twice. “Enjoy it, Loser–and they’d better be clean by the time I come back to school on Monday!” he said, and the team laughed, before they fell back into their sexual bliss.

The Loser crawled off to his corner, soaking the filthy socks and jocks with his saliva, before sucking it back out, feeling his cock shoot another load unbidden into the pouch of his jock. The Coach wouldn’t be happy that he’d shot twice already–he might even put the Loser back in chastity, but that was alright. The Loser deserved it–he knew he did. But if this is what it took for his old team to become winners like they were meant to be–then Loser could be happy with that, at least a little bit.