Trent, perhaps sated for the moment, managed to squeeze himself out from between the two coaches in the locker room and blundered his way out, cum dripping from his chin and his ass hole, the rest of the team just gaping at the two coaches left behind. With a roar, the second, beastly coach grabbed a couple of men and dragged them back onto the field, and most of the team was left in the locker room with the first coach–although he wasn’t much of a person anymore.

His genitals was now nearly larger than he was close to four feet long, his legs splayed wide to make room for his balls, each larger than a basketball, and the fierce sucking Trent had given him still didn’t seem to have him anywhere close to orgasm, but the smell of his precum was filling the room, and slowly drawing all of the team closer to him. The larger players were the first to realize what they were feeling–they were hungry. But not just any kind of hunger, they wanted something…something in particular.

In the end, they all figured it out, losing themselves in the puddles of precum all over the floor, fighting over the massive beads which rolled down the shaft, clambering all over one another to get the the top, where they could drink it directly from the fountain. The more they drink, the larger they all became, and by the time an hour passed, none of them were under 300 pounds any longer, and their own balls had expanded, pumping out precum of their own which dribbled down their fat thighs and coated the underside of their new, jiggly guts.

Their teamwork won out in the end though, and together they gathered around their coach, licking and slobbering at the shaft, nibbling at the massive glans, cleaning his huge sack, and finally the coach gave a shudder underneath his huge phallus and began unloading his cum proper, gallon after gallon pumping out hard enough to slam into the ceiling above, the team giving off squeals as they devoured everything they could find. The real stuff packed on weight even faster, and by the end of the night, with the coach’s phallus soft again and the the entire locker room licked clean, the smallest player was just under 700 pounds, and the largest tub of lard could barely move his 1200 pounds to the door of the locker room and squeeze himself through. They all needed more now, there was no doubting that, and they went off to search for more cum to sate their now unending cum-hunger on the rest of the campus.

~~~

Alright, that’s all folks! Thanks again to everyone who participated, and I hope there was something in there for everyone. Regardless, I think I’ll be cleaning it up over the next week or so, and then I might load it up onto CYOC. If there’s a chapter you really wanted to see, but which didn’t get the votes you wanted, never fear–you can always commission it if you’re desperate, once I get it up on CYOC.

Trent had jacked off two more times at his computer before the few remaining brain cells in his head managed to remember that he was supposed to have been at football practice almost half an hour ago. That, he realized, was what his phone must have been buzzing and jingling about, before it had annoyed him and he’d hurled it out the window. He stood up from the computer, not at all used to his new size, and started trying to figure out how to put his clothes on, but they were all too small for one thing, and the idea of clothing just confused him now. Wouldn’t it be better just to…go naked? Then more people would be able to see him, and he liked having people see him naked. He grinned, and left his room–luckily missing Art, who was still in Julian’s room, stroking his permanently firm cock, because if he’d seen that, there was no way he would have gotten out of the house without fucking himself on it.

Still, getting out of the house proved difficult enough. None of the doorways seemed big enough for him, and he kept having to duck under them and go through sideways so he could even fit at all. Outside though, he took a deep breath of the fall air, felt the breeze against his low hanging balls and decided he might as well run over to the stadium. Running was amazing–he had so much energy all of a sudden, and he felt like he could just bound across town without even needing to catch his breath, and the few people who saw him as he sprinted past were too shell shocked to even realize what they’d just seen. The joy of running kept him well enough occupied that his relentless need to fuck too a momentary back seat, and he managed to get to the stadium without molesting anyone.

Inside, however, was another story. Already sweating and stinking from the run, he wandered down the halls which still seemed a bit too narrow for him and ducked his way into the locker room, where two of the assistant coaches were, discussing where in the world Trent, one of their star players, could possibly be. When the huge, furry, naked hulk wandered into their midst, neither one of them really knew what to make of it, but for Trent, the run had made him even hornier, and before either one could do anything about it, he’d dropped to his knees, ripped open the crotch of the first coach’s pants, and engulfed his cock and balls in his maw before he could stop him.

“What the fuck is going on?” he managed to say, before the pleasure swept over him and he nearly collapsed from the sensation of Trent’s skilled mouth working him over–but it was more than that. He was getting hard, sure–but he was getting more than hard–he was growing. Before long, his cock and balls couldn’t both fit in Trent’s mouth, and he let the balls flop out, the sack already hanging between the older man’s thighs, and if you watched closely, you could actually see them pumping cum into Trent’s stomach. After a few moments, Trent couldn’t take the coach’s entire cock either, as it passed over a foot in length and a two liter bottle in girth, but that didn’t stop Trent from trying to swallow it, his gut bulging out from the gallons of pre-cum he was swallowing from the coach, to eventually be turned into even more muscle.

The second assistant coach watched this happen and backed away, uncertain as to what he should do, when he smelled it–the sweaty, musky pheromones seeping from Trent’s body, and the coach’s brain simply shut down, and he quickly dropped his pants, walked over and worked his cock into Trent’s muscular ass as quickly as he could. Already the coach’s body was packing on pound after pound of muscle as fur–not hair–began spreading all over his body. In a matter of minutes, the coach resembled something more along the lines of a gorilla than a human, covered with full, his dull eyes occupied only with the act of fucking and asserting dominance over others.

This was the state of the locker room which the team found at the end of practice, when they piled into the stinking locker room. The first coach’s body was relatively unchanged, but his balls were now the size of gallon jugs, and he’d been forced to fall to the floor because he couldn’t support their weight anymore, much the less his three foot long cock. The other coach, behind Trent, was now just a grunting beast, slathered with cum from his numerous ejaculations up the football slut’s ass. Trent was now even more massive than before–nearly eight feet tall, very hairy, and a dumb grin on his face from his feast, and he looked over, watched his teammates smell his sex for the first time, and dumbly make their way over to him for their own changes.

***

What happens next? There’s only one more chapter, so make it count!

1. The first coach takes a group of players, and they all drink his cum down, turning into obese, cum thirst piglets.

2. The second coach takes a group of players and turns them into his pack of submissive, beastly betas.

3. Back in the dorm we can follow the smoke into the RA’s room, where he becomes a leather bound, sadistic enforcer.

4. We can still see how Pa and Clyde’s trailer trash slothfulness is infecting the uptight suburban neighborhood.

5. Two neighbors run into Julian, and they turn a steroid laden tattoo and pierced monster of a punk and his fat pig toilet on a chain leash.

As Professor Yangley headed off towards his next class, his pipe puffing smoke, two freshmen heading back to their dorm room from their last class passed a little too close, and each of them got a strong whiff of the professor’s fumes, making them cough for a few moments.

“Was he…smoking in here?” one of them asked, scratching his chest absentmindedly. His name was Chaz, and was the nerdier of the duo. Tall and gangly, he couldn’t seem to keep weight on, even though he had quite the appetite.

“Whatever, that was weird…” his friend, Eddie, said. He was shorter than Chaz, but managed to exude more confidence. He was also a bit chubbier, the beginnings of the freshman 15 already setting in, but his jovial mood still made him plenty likable.

By the time they’d exited the building, however, the oddity of the event had left them, and once they were outside, each of them paused to light up. Chaz pulled out a large bowl, full bent bulldog and packed in some tobacco from the pouch he had around his hanging from his belt, while Eddie plucked a cigar from his shirt pocket, cut off the end, and lit it carefully, before holding his lighter for Chaz, and then the two of them set off for their dorm, puffing along themselves. However, as they walked, each one of them kept noticing that strange things seemed to be happening to them.

For Chaz, he found that he had to start quickening his pace for some reason, to keep up with his friend. Being tall all of his life, he’d always had to focus on pulling back, but suddenly he was hurrying to catch up, and the effort left him a bit out of breath. It was even stranger, since he was actually looking up at his friend, instead of down. Shouldn’t that be the other way around? He couldn’t quite be sure, but whatever the case, Eddie was now well over six feet tall, and his chubby frame was filling out with muscle, which was causing Chaz’s cock to rise against the leather of the kilt he was wearing. “Fuckin’ slow down, boy,” he said, and Eddie immediately bowed his head, and pulled back, allowing the shorter Chaz to take the lead, and he followed behind him at a respectful distance.

This also gave Eddie a wonderful view of his friend, who was now much, much shorter, and far fatter than he had been moments before. But the sight of his friend’s newly hairy shoulders, neck and arms sent a strange thrill through him, and he kind of wondered what his back was like underneath the vest he was wearing with his kilt–and whether he had any underwear on beneath it. He hoped not. As he watched, there was a ripple through Chaz’s hair, almost like a light breeze, as it grew down to his shoulders, and all of it turned to a deep, flame red with a few strands of silver. He tripped again, suddenly–not used to his long legs or his muscular physique. Looking down, he watched tattoos swirl up his arms and onto his chest, as his shirt tightened around him into a rubber tank, and his pants slimmed down into tight leather, which hugged his muscular body and showed off his seven inch cock bulging at the crotch. He wasn’t as hairy as Chaz was, but that was alright, and he felt a few pricks as rings and bars appeared in his nipples, ears and nose, and a thick horseshoe moustache framed his mouth.

They climbed the stairs in their dorm, Eddie licking his lips in excitement, and as soon as they were inside the older pipe bear’s room he fell to his knees in front of him and started grinding his face into the man’s red furred gut, as Chaz ran his hands over the smooth dome of Eddie’s shaved head. “You like that gut, boy? You wanna feel all this fat pressing down on you while I fuck that ass of yours?”

Oh yes sir, please sir…” Eddie moaned, and then Chaz shoved him into his hands and knees, flipped up his kilt and worked his nine inch cock into his friend’s hole, both of them pumping out smoke until they could barely see the room through the haze…and it seemed like the room was changing. Suddenly, the floor was concrete, the walls tile, and the door room became just one poorly lit room in the bathhouse the entire dorm would become, as their cloud of smoke drifted down the halls.

***

Alright, here are your options. There’s only two or three more entries left, so make them count.

1. Let’s follow the smoke to the left, into the floor’s bathroom, turning the guys there into urinals and cumdumps.

2. Let’s follow the smoke into the room on the right, where the floor’s RA becomes a leather bound, sadistic enforcer.

3. We can still see how Pa and Clyde’s trailer trash slothfulness is infecting the uptight suburban neighborhood.

4. Trent still can get to practice and bottom for the entire team and the coaches, turning them all into stupid, fuck-hungry tops.

5. Julian decides he would really like a fat, tattooed skin pig for an intense fisting session that evening.

What would you like to see?

Professor Adams was in his office, working on grading a series of tests which he wanted to have back to the students of the next class he taught in an hour. He was doing his best to hurry, and so, when the short chubby cub walked into his office, prodded by the massive, middle aged hulk behind him–a man so wide he could barely fit through the door, he’d initially thought it was a prospective student and his father who wanted to ask him questions about the department. “Oh, uh…hi,” he said, as the two men took a seat in the chairs opposite his desk, “I’m actually pretty busy at the moment. If you’d like to find a class to shadow or ask questions about the department, I’d suggest Professor Allister-Hale at the end of the hall–she’s the head of the department.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” the older man, Eric, rumbled, “We’re here to talk about my son Charley’s performance in your class. Apparently he’s been struggling, and being a bit of a general disappointment.”

Charley? The only Charley Professor Adams had in one of his classes was Charles Yangley, one of a set of twins on campus, but this chubby kid wasn’t Charles. Sure, he could see a bit of a resemblance, but there was no way this was him. “Look, I think you’re mistaken. He’s not a student from one of my classes. There’s another Professor Adams in the psychology department, maybe you meant to go to him?”

“Dad, quit fuckin’ around,” the Eric said, “He’s your grandson for Christ’s sake! Don’t play games.”

Professor Adams just stared at the two of them for a moment, shocked, and then the strangest thing happened. It started as a wave of nausea that swept through him suddenly, and his vision started warping and twisting, and a crushing headache flashed through, and then it was all done, and Professor Yangley looked down at his wrinkled hands, and let out a scream. He stood up from the desk, but the heavy gut he’d packed on nearly tipped him back over, and the sudden movement didn’t feel too good on his old joints. “What…what the fuck did you do to me, I’m…I’m fucking old!” he shouted, and looked down at himself. Even his clothes had shifted in a more stodgy variety, with suspenders and pants pulled up over his gut to his belly button. Looking down, he felt a thick beard brush against his neck and chest as well, and he started hyperventilating. He looked over at his son Eric and his grandson Charley sitting across from the desk, trying to understand both how he could be recognizing them now, and how he could have not recognized them moments before.

“Charley, get Grandpa his pipe. I think he needs a smoke.”

“Sure thing dad,” Charley said, and walked over to the rack of pipes that had appeared on the wall, quickly packed on and handed it to his grandpa, holding a lighter and helping him get it lit, and the smoke made him feel better, the episode already fading from his mind, and he settled back down in his chair, his brow furrowing in frustration at his grandson’s performance in his class. He was still passing, sure, but both he and Eric knew he could be doing better. “Well, I do know what worked for you dad when he wasn’t doing as well in school as I wanted,” the professor said between puffs, and then pulled out a drawer in his desk and pulled out a chastity device, “we probably just need to make sure you keep your focus where it needs to be.”

“Oh, come on grandpa, not that…” Charles said, but it was no use. He pulled down his pants and let his father and grandfather secure his cock, feeling it press uncomfortably against the plastic casing.

“You can let it out when you raise your grade to an A–or at the end of the semester, whichever comes first,” the professor said, and Charley sighed.

“Well, I guess I’d better go home and study,” Charley said.

“Not so fast,” Eric said, grinning, “I think your grandpa and I would like to discuss something else with you first,” he grabbed his crotch and leered at his son, and it was after a good half hour of family spit-roasting that they finally let him go home and get to work, and Eric left with him, to supervise.

Puffing on his pipe, Professor Yangley turned back to the tests he was grading, and figured he had just enough time to finish them up. He sighed, marking someone’s paper with an F–some students just didn’t understand what kind of impact their work today would have on their futures, and he chuckled, bundled up the papers and headed to his next class.

***

What happens next?

1. Professor Yangley hands out a test with an F–and the student quickly finds himself becoming a dumb construction worker.

2. Professor Yangley’s pipe smoke has a strange effect on two young men who pass him in the hall, and they turn into two smoking leather bears by the time they reach their dorm room.

3. We can still see how Pa and Clyde’s trailer trash slothfulness is infecting the uptight suburbian neighborhood.

4. Trent still can get to practice and bottom for the entire team and the coaches, turning them all into stupid, fuck-hungry tops.

5. Julian decides he would really like a fat, tattooed skin pig for an intense fisting session that evening.

What do you think?