Commissioned by Anonymous

The center snapped the ball back to the quarterback, and JR sprinted off, weaving between tackles into the open field beyond, turning back towards the ball hurtling to him. Then it was in his arms and he was running, no one in front of him, the crowd’s roars a distant murmur as he pounded towards the end zone, spinning as someone came at him from the side, but undaunted, he completed the run, spiked the ball, and looked up to see his father, Doug, cheering and whistling with the crowd in the stands, and he grinned, before turning back to his teammates and coach and receiving their praises as well. The crowd settled down after a minute or two, Doug sitting back down on the bleacher and slapped Jack on the back, “Pretty awesome, eh? That’s my boy!”

Jack startled, and looked back at Doug, “Oh, what? Sorry, did I miss something?” It was obvious from the slight frown that creased the older man’s lip that Jack had, and he felt bad. He’d been thinking about the Mathers Account, and how he needed to run a few different risk assessments this weekend before he went into the office on Monday. Risk assessments he should be doing right now, but instead he was sitting here next to his neighbor, who he didn’t even know all that well, watching his son’s football game at the local college. He and Doug had struck up an acquaintance over the last few months, mostly because they seemed to inexplicably arrive home at the same time–usually late. The topic of Jack’s birthday had come up earlier in the week, and when Doug had heard that Jack had no plans, he’d insisted he come with him to watch his son’s football game. He’d tried to beg off, but Doug had been insistent, telling Jack that getting away from work would do him a bit of good. Doug was right–Jack did work too hard, but to be honest, Jack was finding it hard to focus on the game and relax, because he couldn’t stop worrying about all the work he could have been doing instead.

“Yeah, you sure did miss something,” Doug said, shrugging off the frown for a grin, “but don’t worry about it. Work on your mind?”

“Yeah, sorry…” Jack said,. “I don’t get out much, and there’s a few big accounts that I have meetings for on Monday, and–”

“Sounds boring as hell if you ask me–what, you can’t even take your birthday off? Why don’t you at least try the pretend to be interested in my son’s game?” Doug said, turning back to the field. Jack was a bit taken aback. In fact, he would have left if he could have, but he driven over with Doug, and he didn’t think his neighbor would be too keen on leaving early. Instead, he pulled out his phone, and decided to get at least a little work done here while he could. Their uneasy silence lasted for a few more plays, before Doug turned back to his neighbor. “You know, if you spend all of your time working, you’re just going to be miserable. You need to enjoy life, man! I mean, what are you working for, if you don’t have any time to enjoy where that work has gotten you?”

“I can enjoy my retirement.”

“If you ever get there.”

“Look, I’m not trying to tell you how to run my life, so how about you just leave me alone?” Jack said, surprised at his own anger.

Doug rolled his eyes and turned back to the game, and now Jack couldn’t even focus on his work, because he felt guilty for not watching the game, but the game was boring, and made him feel guilty for not paying attention to work. He put his phone away, finally, and said, “Look, I’m sorry–I’m just stressed out.”

“No kidding.”

“Look, you don’t know what it’s like. I work sixty hour weeks–there’s a lot of pressure. Sure, I make good money, but I’m…not good at relaxing. I don’t mean to take it out on you, or anyone. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Still, you really should try to get away more.”

Jack wasn’t sure what to say in reply, so he watched the next couple of plays, doing his best to remember the rules. He’d never been much of a sports fan, not even back in school. He’d been more of a nerd than anything, always studying, first Honor Roll, then Valedictorian, the Dean’s List, summa cum laude, a high paying job, promotion after promotion–there had always been another mountain to climb, and he was exhausted, actually. “You know…” he said, “I always kind of envied the jocks, back in school. They always seemed to have it so easy.”

“Easy? Trust me, it’s anything but easy.”

“Well, yeah–I suppose they do just as much training as I did studying, but still, it seemed like they always were so much more…relaxed than I was. More in the moment, maybe. I always sort of liked that, and wondered what it might be like. You know, to just be a jock, to just…sort of be…you know?”

Doug smirked, “Would you do anything different, if you could?”

“Probably not,” Jack said, “I’m not sure I could have done anything other than what I did, you know?”

“Hmm, well, there’d be nothing wrong in giving it a try, right?” Doug said, chuckling, but Jack didn’t know what he was referring to, and he felt the buzz of an email in his pocket, pulled out his phone, and started on a reply to his boss, but something was distracting him. Doug, next to him, was mumbling something–and they weren’t any sort of words that Jack might recognize, and when he looked up to ask what he was doing, what he saw chilled him to the bone. Doug was muttering some kind of incantation, and his eyes had turned entirely black, and almost seemed to suck light into them. The same dark energy coalesced around one of his hands. Jack, frozen in fear, could only watch as the hand came towards him, gripped his face, and then everything went black.

***

The next thing Jack knew, he was lying on a rough cement floor, his hand flying up to shove away Doug’s hand which was no longer there. In fact, he was alone–and no longer on the stadium bleachers. Looking around, he realized he was in a locker room, and from the sudden eruption of muffled cheers, he figured he must be in the college’s locker room, but what in the hell was he doing here, and how had he gotten here? The last thing he remembered was Doug’s strange…well, who knew what that was. Magic? That sounded ridiculous, but nothing else he could even think of sounded any more plausible. Still, he needed to get out of here and get some help, maybe call the police and report what happened to him, though he wasn’t sure what the police could do against magic. Magic! Listen to him, how ridiculous would that sound, if he called 911 claiming he’d been accosted by his neighbor with a magic spell?

He’d probably be laughed off the phone, but still, that was something he could worry about later, once he got out of here…especially since he was naked. He looked around the room, wondering where his clothes could have gone, but there was no sign of what he’d been wearing. Still, maybe he could find something else to wear around here somewhere. He stood up, a bit dizzy, and he felt…odd. It was hard to describe, actually, he didn’t know what was so strange, but he just…didn’t feel right. He looked down at himself, and gave a surprised gasp, as he directed his attention at his own body for the first time, and realized why he felt strange–this wasn’t his body. Or, if it was his body, it wasn’t the same sort of body he’d had moments earlier.

Veering away from the lockers where he’d hoped to find some clothing, he instead headed towards the sinks, staring at himself in the mirror. It was definitely still him–he could recognize his own face at least…but still, what had happened to him? He ran his hand over his new form, surprised by how firm it was. He’d never been this muscular before, and had never really imagined what it might feel like. Running one hand across his pec and then down his arm, he could feel the muscles…moving under his fingers, and the power in them–it felt amazing. He flexed one arm, trying to mimic what he’d seen bodybuilders do in movies, and watched the bicep–his bicep–bulge, and a nervous shiver ran through him, directly to his cock.

His other hand, almost of its own volition, floated down there and started stroking the shaft–and what a shaft it was! Jack had never been very well endowed–a little below average, but he didn’t have much time to even think about sex with his job dominating his life. However, this…club, a gigantic cock, maybe ten inches long, and so big around that even with his big hands he could barely grip the whole thing. And the sensitivity! He let out a groan, stroking himself off, his other hand reaching lower and tugging on his equally large and low hanging balls, and he could almost feel them churning, as precum started pumping its way out of the tip. His cock was so big, and–

***

The next thing Jack knew he was on his back on the concrete floor, grunting and groaning, milking the last remnants of cum from his giant cock with both hands, watching it pool on his stomach and dribble off him onto the floor.

He’d just blacked out–literally. His cock seemed to have stolen so much blood that his mind had simply shut off. But it wasn’t like he’d fainted–he must have been jacking off this entire time. His muscular arms were shaking a bit from exertion, and he could smell sweat mixing with his cum. How long had he been jacking off? To him, it had felt like the length of a blink, but now he had this strange feeling that he could have been on the floor for days without knowing it. But still, his cock felt so good…he could still feel the tail end of his orgasm working it’s way through him, and maybe…maybe he could pump out some more, maybe he could just jack off a…a few more times like that…

No, no–he shouldn’t, he thought, and reluctantly pulled his hand away from his sticky cock. There was still something strange going on, and besides, he was naked in a locker room, and from the sounds of the crowd, the game was still going on, but he had no idea how much time had passed now–it could end at any moment. He needed to find some clothes to wear before the team came back. He spotted one of the player’s open locker, saw some clothes inside, tried to pull them out, but yanked his hand back as soon as he’d touched the fabric. Something like an electric shock had zinged his hand before he could even get close, and reaching out again, the exact same thing happened, Jack shaking his hand in pain. Confused, he walked to another open locker and tried anew with a different player’s street clothes, but the same thing happened. He stepped back, confused at what was going on. Something wasn’t letting him touch the clothes, but why? He tried again with a different player, but the shock happened again, and this time with even more force, convincing Jack that he probably should just stop trying to steal the clothes and just stay naked for the time being, and figure out something else to do instead.

He wandered around the locker room for a couple of minutes, trying to come up with a plan of some sort, but his mind was blanking, partly because he was still horny. Where before, work always seemed to be his distraction of choice, now it was his thick cock. It was aching for more attention, and at this point had been semi-hard since his earlier blackout, and after a few minutes of searching, Jack would be overcome with need and stroke himself for a few minutes, careful to stay conscious, until he could bear to break away and keep looking. However, his search came to an abrupt halt as he wandered past the coach’s office and the bin next to the door brimming with lost and found jockstraps. The smell caught his attention first, the powerful, masculine musk of months–maybe even years of unwashed jocks, and his cock hardened fully. He fought back against it, but his vision was fading again, the need rising up, incontestable, and he was gone.

***

Awareness returned slowly, and at first Jack had no clue where he was. The first senses to return were touch and smell, and he felt surrounded by rough, scratchy fabric and the thick musk of muscular, powerful men, and he felt so…comfortable and relaxed. The rest of his mind came back after a few moments, and even when he realized that he had somehow managed to cram his body entirely into the bin of jocks, it was so difficult to force himself out. He felt lethargic, like he belonged in the bin, like it was his home. He felt so comfortable here, and the inertia kept thwarting his efforts to rally his body and get out, not to mention his cock. He’d cum again, during his blackout–he could feel the cum all over him now, and it was urging him to just relax, and he had to admit, it did feel good.  He’d finally managed to sit up in the bin when he heard a loud whistle from the field and the stands erupt into cheers. The game was over, and any moment now, the locker room would be swarming with the football team, and Jack was naked in a bin of dirty jockstraps, stank of sweat and cum, and could barely control his raging cock.

He hefted himself most of the way out of the bin, but then he had a better idea. He could just stay here, and…bury himself down under the jocks, hiding out until the players had left. Certainly his thick cock liked that idea a lot, and so he stuffed himself down into the bin, covering himself with the filthy underwear until he was entirely hidden, and after a few minutes of waiting, the team came storming into the locker room, ecstatic over their victory.

“Alright men, that was a great game,” he heard an older voice say, probably the coach he’d seen on the field, “Keep that up, and we’re going to have a great season. Now…uh…your team captain, JR, told me that he, uh, has some words for all of you…right, sir?”

“Thanks coach, there are a few things I’d like to say,” a voice said…and what a voice it was. Deep, and commanding…and…and sexy…Jack let out a soft moan, unable to help himself, and he found himself waiting with baited breath for anything his neighbor’s son might have to say to the team…and maybe to him as well. “First of all, I’d just like to say that we sure as fucking showed those bitches at UCC who’s boss, right?”

The locker room erupted into a cheer, and the pride was infectious. Jack hadn’t even seen the tail end of the game, but hearing JR speak, he couldn’t help but revel in the team’s hard won victory. He was leaking again, and dangerously hard. His vision was narrowing again, and it seemed as though the only thing he could focus on was JR’s voice.

“Now, I just want to take a couple of minutes to…remind you all of what pushed us to victory today. It was our cohesion. It was the fact that we’re a family. It’s the fact that we are the closest goddamn team the the fucking division, and what do we have to do to stay that way? What are the three pillars we need to preserve, men?”

JR waited a moment, the room strangely, awkwardly quiet. Finally, one of the team members piped up. “Uh…well, not, uh, showering?”

“Damn right! That’s the first fucking pillar, and there’s no reason to sound so fucking scared of it. Men should smell like fucking men, right? And if we’re afraid of each other’s musk, then how in the hell can we begin functioning like a great team? Now, what’s another pillar? Don’t be such pussies–out with it!”

A little quicker, a different voice said, “Well, not washing our jerseys…or jocks.”

“Exactly–How better to intimidate the opposing team, than with our fucking superior musk? We need them to know that we stand together, that we’re a fucking family, and how better than to make sure they can fucking smell us all the way down the field? Now, what’s the last pillar, and the most important one? I want to hear it from all of you, alright? On the count of three. One. Two. Three!”

The entire team erupted now, both players and coaches in complete, disturbing unison, “Obedience. A team obeys it’s captain. A team’s captain is always right.”

“That’s right–and don’t you fucking forget it. A team needs a leader, and who better to lead all of you men than me?”

“No one!” someone shouted, getting caught up in the moment.

“Hell yeah! We’ll do anything you say, JR!”

The room erupted into a cheer, which slowly shifted into all of them chanting JR’s name, and in the bin, Jack found the enthusiasm was more than infectious, it was erotic. The charge of energy in the room, it was hardening his cock more and more, and Jack found himself…wanting it, until he remembered what was about to happen. No–he couldn’t blank out right now–who knew what might happen if he did, he couldn’t afford for that to happen. Still though, his vision was diminishing and once again his mind shut off entirely, leaving his body at the mercy of his cock.

***

“Yeah Jock, blow that fucking load. Shoot that wad with my cock rammed down your throat. See team? This is how it’s fucking done–you’re all watching closely, right? He’s desperate for it, he’ll do anything for our us–just a fucking place to dump our cum.”

The team squirmed on the benches, unable to take their eyes away from the sight of their team captain skull fucking the strange man who minutes earlier had lurched his way out of the bin of old lost and found jocks next to the coaches office. The thing which drew all of their attention had been his thick, long and very hard cock which he started jacking off with both hands. The only person who hadn’t appeared surprised at all was JR, who had addressed him as Jock, and ordered him to come over, get on his knees, and suck him off, ordering the rest of the team to watch how it was done.

Jack, however, was back, and gagged around the cock he found lodged deep in his throat, not that the hands wrapped around the back of his head allowed him to unimpale himself. He pushed JR away with all of his strength, and the team captain relented, pulling out his cock which started unloading thick streams of cum all over Jack’s face. “Yeah, that’s it, you fucking cum dump. You know you want my fucking cum, don’t fucking deny it! Wear your captain’s seed with some fucking pride!”

Jack sputtered a bit, still on his knees, trying to wipe the cum from his eyes as JR turned back to the team on the benches. “Alright team, I suppose I should go ahead and introduce you. This is Jock–he’s a little gift from my dad, as a reward for our first victory of the season. You see, there’s another pillar I haven’t discussed with all of you yet. Now, if we’re going to be successful as a team, then the team needs to have our complete focus, like a family, and that means we can’t have any attachments outside of our family here, right? The fourth pillar is that the team is our first and only love, got it?”

The team nodded, and Jack cleared his eyes away enough to see that JR’s eyes had changed, becoming the same black pits Doug’s had become up in the stands. Apparently whatever magic was flying around ran in the family, and that sent a chill down Jack’s spine. Had this been Doug’s plan all along, to lure him here just so he could become some…filthy plaything for his son’s freaky football team? Looking at the players, they were all transfixed by JR’s dark force.

“So what that means, is we can’t have any fucking women in our lives complicating matters, right? And since this is your family now, we can’t have brothers or sisters or mom and dad’s getting involved in our lives, right?”

Jack saw that that was a bit harder for the team to swallow, and a few of the men started resisting, as well as the coach standing at the back. One player even got up the courage up to speak, “But…but Cindy and I just…just got engaged. I can’t…I can’t just…end it.”

“Yes, Garrett you can–and you will,” JR said, coming close to the player who’d objected. “You will end it, because as your captain, I’m not about to let anything–anything come between this family and victory, do you understand? And you will obey me, do you fucking understand?”

Garrett, cowed, nodded and fell silent before JR, who walked back to the front. “Good, I thought we might have a bit of a problem there.

“Hmmph, well alright then, how about we finish off the day with a cohesion exercise. Everyone circle up around Jock here–we’re gonna welcome him into our family with a good old fashioned circle jerk–get him good and covered with our cum, so he knows where he belongs.”

“No…No this…this is wrong,” the coach suddenly said loudly, the resistance he’d been building finally pouring out, “JR, I can’t…I can’t let you do this. You have to…to stop.”

The darkness in JR’s eyes flared, and the coach went rigid. “No, here’s what we’re going to do,” JR seethed, the words no longer suggesting, but rather compelling. Team, you’re going to coat this fucking jock with your cum. You’re going to make sure he knows his place around here. You’re going to fucking degrade him, and humiliate him, and make him beg for your seed. In the meantime, coach and I are going to go in his office and have a little chat. Once each of you have nutted on this dirty jock, you’re free to go, but remember our post game practice tomorrow morning, alright? I have a feeling we’re going to need to work on this new pillar a little more this weekend. Now coach, come with me–we need to have a chat.”

JR walked to the office, the coach following with his head bowed, hands shaking a bit, and the team all stood up, looking at Jack, some of them nervous, a few of the more easily swayed looking a bit excited. Jack was aware of the fact that even though he was in much better shape than he’d ever been in his life, he was still nothing compared to the men of the football team. It didn’t help that on top of everything else, he was shorter too–he simply hadn’t noticed until he was looking up at the approaching players, when he knew that in his old body he would have probably been of similar height. He backed up a bit but before he could do anything he had players advancing on him from every side, and he’d never felt so small, or so intimidated, ever in his life.

And the smell–the scent of grass and sweat and men–it was wonderful, it was powerful. Jack didn’t smell like that–he just smelled like a puddle of cum, like a worn jockstrap, like…he shook his head, trying to clear it. He couldn’t black out again, not now, but his cock was already hardening again, even though he’d already shot more loads in a single hour than he had probably ever shot in a week.

Get on your knees.

A voice, where had it come from? But when Jack came back to himself, he saw that he’d unwittingly obeyed, and the circle had tightened around him. That voice, it had seemed so familiar, but why? It wasn’t JR, but…but it was so hard to think, and his cock was so hard. A freshman named Stan, a duller player who’d happily fallen completely under JR’s sway, came up to him, pulling his cock out of his grass stained pants. “Well you heard the captain–beg for it Jock, I know you want my cum, you disgusting piece of filth.”

Beg.

No, no he wouldn’t do it, he wouldn’t.

Beg for it, beg…you need it, need the cum, need their seed, you need it, beg, beg, beg!

“Please!” Jack gasped, “Please, shoot your load on…on me, please, use me as your fucking nasty cum dump, hose me down with your fucking cum. Soak me down like I’m you’re fucking jockstrap, please–I need your cum on me.”

“Shit, look how hard Jock is.”

“No kidding, and look how big that thing is–I bet the only this Jock can think about is sex.”

“Yeah, no wonder he’s so hungry for cum, he’s so stupid he can’t think about anything else.”

It was too late then, Jack felt awareness slipping away from him, his hand grasping his cock while the team continued taunting him, but still, that voice, it was coming out of his mouth now, he was still begging, even if he wasn’t the one thinking the words, but then the darkness, and he was thankful. He didn’t want to be awake for this, he didn’t want to know what was going to happen to him now.

***

Yeah, give it to me! Hose me down!

“Ha, look at that fuckin’ cum bucket! The fucker is soakin’ it up.”

Hell yeah, I’m your cum bucket, the whole team’s cum bucket, fill me to the fucking brim, all of you!

“Yeah! Smear that all over his fuckin’ face.”

“Fuckin’ soaked.”

“No question who owns this fucking jock, eh boys?”

“Ha, hell yeah, he’s good and fucking marked.”

More, come on, give me some more, give it all to me!

***

Snippets–fragments, as Jack felt thought return to him, he could…remember this time, but it hadn’t been him in the middle of the circle. It was that voice, that other voice in his head, that he’d heard, that was who had spoken, who had begged for the team’s cum like a fucking pig. He shuddered on the floor, the violation he’d vicariously experienced something he couldn’t even begin to contemplate. He was sticky. Just…sticky, with the team’s cum, with his cum, he was soaked in it, and he wanted to retch, to take a shower, to do…something. He sat up from where he was lying on the ground, and saw that the last few stragglers were throwing on their street clothes and leaving the locker room, mostly guys who’d been less eager to jack off on him, but JR’s magic had been too strong for any of them to resist entirely. Garrett in particular looked at him with a momentary eye of pity, but before Jack could ask for help, he’d bolted from the room, leaving Jack alone–or at least, alone for the moment.

He rolled over and saw that the coach’s office was still occupied by both JR and the coach. It looked like they were simply having a friendly conversation, but from the zoned out look across the coaches face and the way light seemed to…disappear around JR, he figured there wasn’t anything friendly about it. Simply put, he needed to get out of here while he had the glimmer of an opportunity, but as soon as he thought of escape, the voice came back.

You can’t leave. This is home, you love it here.

No, no that wasn’t true, that wasn’t true he told himself. He owned a house–he had a job, he had a life, as stressful and hectic as that was. Sure, the team was pretty horny, and it was hard work satisfying all their needs, but–

Jack shook his head–had he really just thought that? No, he had a job, a real job, something to do with…with finances and stuff, and accounts, and meetings. Sure, he couldn’t remember any details right now, but that’s what he did every day, that’s what he had to do right now.

No, we should jack off.

No, definitely not that.

We should jack off.

No–

We should jack off!

He blinked, and then his hand was around the shaft, and he was groaning, the world falling into darkness around him, but he fought back, remaining at the edge of awareness, keeping the voice from stealing complete control from him again. He didn’t know what it was, or what it was doing in his head, but it wasn’t going to control him, it wasn’t.

He ripped his hand away with a near painful gasp. It hurt–it hurt not pleasing himself, not obeying his cock, not doing what his cock told him to do, and then he realized it. That was the voice–it was his cock. That didn’t make any sense, but it had to be, it had to, and then the door opened.

Too late. The coach was in the doorway, his eyes empty and hungry and when they settled on Jack, he licked his lips and tromped over. JR had already stripped him of his clothes in the office, and Jack had a moment to take in the coach’s aging body as he advanced, the thickly furred chest and belly which had started succumbing to the fat of age, the craggy face, the rough hands and then the coach buried his face into Jack’s neck, running his tongue through the sheen of cum stuck there by the team and up onto his Jack’s face in one lick.

Jack tried to push the coach away, but the man, for all his years, was still plenty strong, and without even paying attention to Jack’s struggles, he shoved his nose into Jack’s chest and took deep snorting inhales of the stench of cum. JR came out of the office a moment later and walked over. “See coach? Having a Jock around the locker room isn’t going to be so bad after all, is it?”

“No sir, I love having a filthy, cum soaked Jock around,” the coach said.

“Get–get the hell off of me, what the hell is wrong with you?” Jack shouted at the coach, still trying to worm out of the man’s grasp, but it was like the coach couldn’t hear a word he was saying, and JR ignored him entirely.

“Now don’t forget our private training session tomorrow, before the rest of the team shows up for practice, coach.”

The older man looked over his shoulder, his face somewhere between sheepish and terrified, “Yes…sir…I won’t.”

“Good.” JR said, letting him leave, before walking over to where Jack was kneeling on the floor. “And don’t forget to put Jock away when you’re finished, alright? We don’t want him getting lost in the locker room.”

The coach turned back to Jack, now rubbing his body and cock up against the cum covered man, and Jack again tried to get loose, to no avail. “Please!” he finally shouted as JR reached the door to the locker room, “Please, don’t just leave me here with him, what are you doing? Why are you doing this to me?”

JR didn’t reply immediately, he just walked back over, coach not even noticing, lost as he was in the stench of the team’s cum, and knelt down next to Jack’s face.

“Why? Because we can. Because my dad and I know how miserable you are, even if you don’t see it, and so we’re helping you out, because you’re going to be so much happier here with the team, trust me, you just don’t realize it yet–but you will. Just consider it a birthday present from th two of us–one you’ll have a chance to enjoy for years to come,” JR pulled his cock out and started stroking it inches from Jack’s face. “Yeah, you’re gonna love being my Jock, don’t you worry. I’m sure that by the time I come back tomorrow, you’ll be seeing things in a whole new way. You’ll thank me, really–you will. Oh yeah, you’re gonna be so fucking hot as a Jock, I can’t fuckin’ wait to…to see…” with a grunt, he nutted all over Jack’s face, the coach immediately licking it up, slobbering all over Jack’s face with his tongue, the coach’s rock hard cock jammed painfully into his stomach, and then JR was up and left the room without another word.

Jack again tried to shove the coach off of him, but the man was gripping him so tight he was worried he might have bruises when he finally let go. In fact, the coach didn’t even seem to be regarding him as a person, but simply as an object–something to be sniffed and chewed and licked and sucked and jacked off into, but nothing more than that.

Relax.

No, he wasn’t going to relax, he wasn’t just going to take it.

Relax, let him use you. You’re just a cumrag, just something to masturbate into.

As much as he wanted to resist, Jack felt power abandoning his muscles, forcing him to go limp in the coach’s grasp, who was now grinding his cock into Jack’s belly, leaking precum in the ridges of his new abs, and it did…it did feel kind of…kind of good…

It feels good to be used. Good to be a Jock.

It did feel good, it felt good to be covered in cum, good to be a filthy jock covered in cum. His dick was hard again, but something else was wrong. This powerlessness, this limpness, there was something else happening to him. He became aware slowly that he was shrinking–that his body was even smaller than before, the coaches hands wrapping all the way around his arms, and he felt so…so small…

…so powerless, so worthless, just a cumrag, just a filthy jock.

The one thing that didn’t seem to be shrinking at all, however, was his cock and balls–he didn’t know whether they were just remaining the same size as he shrank, or actually growing larger, but one thing he knew for sure was that the shaft was rock hard. By now, all thoughts of resistance had left his head with the blood to his dick–all he could do was lay limp and allow the coach to have his way with him, and he realized that the coach wasn’t having sex with him–he really was just masturbating, and just using Jack as a tool to help him get off. Somehow that only made him hornier, even if it was a huge blow to his ego. He shouldn’t be willing to allow this to happen to him, he should be fighting back, but what could he do? He was just…just a cumdump–yeah, just a filthy, dirty cumrag, here to be used, what right did he even have to protest? To even think about protesting? To even think at all?

I can do all the thinking for you, just let me takeover.

It was tempting. There was an allure to the thought that he could just give in, just let his new, monstrous dick make all the decisions for him, let it rule his life, but he fought back from that edge, holding it at bay as best he could, as the coach thrust harder, finally climaxing, grinding his cum into Jack’s chest, wiping the rest of it off on his face, panting heavily, before he picked Jack up and carried him back over to the bin of lost and found jocks. The sensation of being carried was something Jack hadn’t felt since he was a child, and the complete loss of control was thrilling and terrifying. He swung his feet, trying to touch the ground, but couldn’t, and then the coach dropped him into the bin, and before Jack could react, he’d taken the lid out from his office and put it on top, sealing Jack inside.

He laid there on the jocks for a moment, still, before panic set in and he started pounding on the lid, trying to force it open, but for some reason he couldn’t get it off. He called out for help, but as more and more time passed with no one coming to help him, he finally stopped hammering and laid back, hyperventilating on the musk of the jocks which surrounded him. He really had shrunk, he realized–when he’d been in the bin before, he’d had to nearly crush himself to fit, but now he had a bit of wiggle room all around, which was a small blessing. Still, he didn’t have much time to worry–the scent of the jocks had his cock rock hard again, and he’d slumped down amongst them, jacking his thick cock off, grunting and groaning as he felt his brain start to shut down once again.

From that moment, Jack was essentially gone, aside from the occasional glimmer of thought, when he again tried to escape from the bin, only to have the musk dragged him back down, and before long, all thoughts of trying to escape had again fled his head, and he burrowed down deeper into the jockstraps, grinding his body and face into the sweaty mesh, his hands never leaving his cock. He lost count of the number of times he shot in the bin–his balls were simply insatiable, and even though the shaft was growing tender, it was hardly enough to deter his hands, and the voice, the voice was always there, encouraging him, telling him this is what he ought to do, what he was made to do, his purpose, his life. Jack found that even in his moments of clarity, he felt…well, dumber. Like his head was full of cotton, like his brain just didn’t have the speed it once did, and the voice, the voice was so convincing. It told him that he’d never had a job, like he’d thought, and in the dark confines of the bin, it was nearly impossible to muster any defense other than faith. Faith that he’d see the sun again, faith that this was all nothing more than a nightmare, faith that he’d still have a mind when someone came to set him free.

He had no easy grasp of how much time was passing. The darkness never changed or dimmed, giving him the impression that he was stuck in a singular moment…and it was driving him deeper into his mad frenzy. He was beginning to…well–he was starting to enjoy himself. He wanted to be worried about his situation, but the truth was that every time he tried to muster concern for his safety and sanity, he’d jack off again and the voice of his dick would reassure him steadily, and he’d remember that it was easier, and better, to just please himself and lose himself in the team’s thick musk.

It was several hours later when Jack noticed something new–something outside of the bin which had nearly collapsed into his whole world. Dragging himself from his sexual inertia, he hammered weakly at the lid and cried out for someone to help him, and he was about to lose hope when he heard the lid of the bin snap off, the fluorescent lights of the locker room blinding him for a moment, until they were blocked out by the silhouette of the heavy set man looming over the bin over him. He was older, probably in his fifties or sixties, wearing a set of grimy coveralls. He was balding badly, with patchy stubble around his mouth and down his neck, with a patch of white chest hair poking out the top of his collar. However, Jack was just happy to see someone else–someone who could help him, and he was about to ask for help when the voice piped up in his head.

Help him.

“Help! Hey, Sir, I’ve got to…help you?” he said, his voice a bit muffled for some reason. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say, was it? His head felt so slow all of a sudden, but wasn’t he the one who needed to be helped, not the other way around?

“Sorry?” the janitor said, coming closer, “I don’t think I heard you very well. Did you say that you have to help me?” He grinned wide, and Jack realized too late that he might have let his hopes get ahead of him.

“Please…Please, just…JR, his dad, they did this to me, please, just…just let me help you.” It came out wrong again, and his voice was still strange. He put a hand up to his mouth, and discovered that one of the jocks from the bin was stuck across his mouth, having adhered to his cum soaked lips, and he felt his cheeks burn with humiliation. “Please, just get me out of here.”

“Well now, I already had a chat with JR, and he told me that you’re the team’s property, so if I took you out of the locker room, I’d be stealing, ‘n I ain’t no thief. Still, if ya wanna help me out, I won’t object.”

“I want to help you, No, I don’t want…please! Just listen to me.”

“Well, alright, since yer insisting, I guess you can help me,” the janitor said, “Get out of there, ‘n come with me.”

Suddenly, Jack didn’t want to get out of the bin. The bin seemed like the safest place in the world, but he couldn’t go against the janitor’s orders. He stood up in the bin, and immediately noticed something new–he’d shrunk more. In fact, the not very tall janitor towered over him by at least a foot, putting Jack somewhere under five feet. However, his mass hadn’t changed, and while he looked a bit more muscular than before, at his shorter stature, he actually managed to look rather puny. The only part of his body which was at all substantial was his cock, already semi hard, which was now over a foot long, and looking down, he saw that ten jockstraps, along with the one covering his mouth, had stuck to his cum covered body while he’d been rolling around in the bin.

He went to grab them and pull them off, but the janitor spoke, “No, leave them, it’ll make things easier–trust me. Now come on.” Jack did as he was told, leaving the jocks adhered to his body, and followed the janitor over to the urinals in the locker room, a knot in his stomach, and in his heavy, low hanging bull balls growing tighter. “Alright Jock, here’s what I want you to do. I’m gonna work on cleaning the lockers and showers–and you’re gonna work in here for me. I want these urinals wiped out, got it.”

Jack looked at the urinals, and the at the janitor, and said, “No…No, please…and I don’t…what am I supposed to wipe them with?”

“God, what a dumbass jock…” the janitor said, walked over, grabbed the back of Jack’s head, shoved him down onto his knees and started smearing his face into the piss soaked porcelain. Jack felt the jocks on his face start to soak up the piss, and he could smell and taste it, and far from being disgusted, his cock was getting turned on, and with a groan, he started stroking himself once again, wiping down the urinal with his face.

Pissrag.

“Yeah, that’s the spirit–damn, I gotta take a piss myself,” the janitor said, pulling out his cock, standing behind Jack, and arching his stream up onto the top of Jack’s head, watching it run down his head on all sides, down his back and over his face, where Jack soaked up as much of it as he could, shooting a load against the wall under the urinals.

Soak it up, soak it all up like the filthy pissrag you are.

“Good job, Jock–get all those urinals good and clean, and then I’ll come back and see how you’re doing. Now get to work,” the janitor added, chuckling when he noticed that his words were falling on deaf ears. Jack had fallen back into his sexual craze, eagerly grinding his face into the porcelain, milking another load of cum from his cock, splattering the wall underneath the urinal, which he wiped up before moving on to the next one.

Jack wiped them all clean, the jocks on his face never seeming to saturate completely for some reason, and then he went back over them again, desperate to find anything he might have missed the first time. He noticed, then, that he was thirsty. All day, he hadn’t had an inkling of thirst or hunger, but now…now he was desperate for liquid, or rather, he just felt…dry. And piss, this piss was slaking him, and his cock certainly seemed to be enjoying his new duties. It was telling him how much he enjoyed it too, and Jack didn’t see any way to dispute it. He was enjoying himself, right? Or rather, his cock was enjoying itself, and he was just doing what his cock wanted–what else was there to do?

He was just about to start going over them all a third time when the janitor returned to check up on him, and laughed. “Jock, I think those are clean enough. Here, how about the two of us take a little break? I got something else to keep you occupied. JR said I could have a little fun with you if I wanted, so how about you suck down my cum, you nasty Jock?”

Jack didn’t have time to even consent. The janitor pulled his head around, and instead of pulling the jock strap out of the way, he just thrust through it, pushing the piss soaked pouch into Jack’s mouth and down his throat. However, the edges of the jock stayed adhered to the outside of Jack’s lips, and he had the strangest sensation, almost as though the pouch was…growing, and wherever it touched the inside of his mouth, it stuck down too. It didn’t help that the janitor cock was impressive–a good eight inches long and very thick, stretching Jack’s jaw to the limit. Still, his cock wasn’t objecting, and that meant that Jack couldn’t object either. More and more, it felt like his huge cock was the one making all of the decisions, and his brain…it felt like it was just starting to disappear, becoming fluff–cotton–non-existent. It was easier to just obey his superiors, obey his cock, and pleasure himself–it was becoming nearly impossible to think of anything else. In desperation, he tried to think about work, but he could barely remember any details of what he did. There were accounts, and he did things with numbers for those accounts, but beyond that…it was just…gone.

That’s not your job, you’re not thinking straight.

Yeah, his cock was right–that wasn’t really his job…right? No, his job was cleaning the locker room, and serving the team. After all, how could a short, filthy cumdump like him, a stupid fucking pissrag ever do something like math, or work in an office? Why fight against his purpose in life? Why resist? It was becoming more and more difficult to come up with an answer, and even more difficult to remember why he should fight at all. The janitor’s thrusts quickened, and he shot his load into Jack’s mouth, but before he could drink it down…it was like the jock in his mouth just absorbed it all, pulling in all the cum, and he tried to get the jock unstuck from the inside of his mouth…but it wouldn’t come loose.

Panic. Sheer animal terror overwhelming his lust, and he grabbed at the jockstrap the janitor had fucked into his mouth and tried to pull it free…when he discovered that there was nothing to pull on. The edges of the jock had fused to his skin. His lips, his tongue, the inside of his mouth–it was cotton. It was mesh. He could move it all like before, he could still taste…but…it was like his flesh had been taken over by the jockstrap. Looking down, he tried to pull the jockstraps off where they’d stuck to his body, but he saw the same thing had occurred. Most of the edges had sealed to his skin, and even where there was an edge, he couldn’t get a good enough grip to even try to pull it free. He felt a patch of jockstrap which had been his abdomen hours earlier, and pressed on it, feeling his gut heave in terror. It felt…It felt like fabric. It was solid, sure, but it felt like he was pressing his hand against a pad of fabric, not against skin and flesh. What was happening to him? What exactly did Doug and JR have planned for him?

“Mmmm, yeah, I think that’s a good look for you Jock,” the janitor said, “Now hold still, I have something else for you.” He started pissing, and even in his panic, Jack knew better than to waste a drop. He opened his mouth, thirst pushing out all other concerns, and he felt the jock absorb it all into him, the fresh piss far more pungent and satisfying than the stale dregs of the urinal, and he felt the fog descend again. He should be thankful for this, he realized. He wouldn’t have been able to quench his thirst without his jock mouth after all. The flow eased up eventually, and Jock let the last bit run down his stomach to the other patches of jock on his body, which absorbed them quickly, and licked his mesh lips.

“Alright Jock, thanks for all your help,” the janitor said, “I got this place cleaned up in record time. Now, go ahead and put yourself away–I’m heading home.”

Jack stood up and walked back over to the bin, not even pausing to question the order, when he heard a strange sound–an odd click, clack on the concrete floor, and looking down, Jack saw that his feet, well, they weren’t his feet anymore. He had cleats on, or rather, his feet had simply become cleats. He didn’t see anyway to get the footwear off, anyway, just like the jocks slowly covering his body, and he saw that, like an infection, the fabric covering was expanding. But rather than being scared, he just grinned stupidly. He was a jock alright.

No, you are Jock. That’s your name.

Of course, how could he be so stupid–that was his name, he was Jock, and he felt a swell of pride in his gut. He was Jock, he was owned by the team, and JR was his master.

And you’ll do anything for the team, right?

He sure would. He looked over his shoulder at the janitor gathering up his supplies, and hoped he’d let him help again next time. Jock had liked helping him out a lot. Maybe the janitor would give him more to clean next time, besides the urinals, like the toilets, or maybe even the floor. He climbed back into the bin, leaving the lid off–after all, he wasn’t going to leave, right? The locker room was his home–hell, he didn’t even know what was beyond those big, scary doors. He’d seen the field a couple of times, but that was scary enough–he didn’t want to get lost after all.

No, you’re at home here, aren’t you?

He sure was.

And you’re never going to leave, and you’re just going to be a good, dumb jock for you team, and do whatever your big dick and your master tell you to do, right?

He sure would, Jock thought with a sigh, as the sweaty mesh embracing him, sending shivers of comfort and desire through him. The janitor shut off the lights as he left, plunging Jack into absolute darkness. The sudden loss of sight scared Jack, and he found himself burrowing deeper into the jockstraps, seeking some familiarity and comfort from his unease, but stopped himself. These jockstraps–they were responsible for his change–and he wanted to be among them? What was happening to him–not just to his body, but to his mind?

It was getting harder and harder to think, the sensation of his head being full of fabric–he was starting to wonder whether it was metaphor or reality. Connecting thoughts together was exhausting, thinking was exhausting. The only things that seemed easy any more were obedience to his team and jacking his massive cock–and damn, was it massive now. At his shorter height, the cock, when hard, could reach his knee…and tentatively, in the bin, he leaned up and found he could lick the head easily, the sensation of his mesh tongue strange against his still fleshy head and shaft.

Lick me, please me.

His worries disappeared again, on pause while he sucked himself off, draining two loads from his heavy balls before he managed to pull himself away, nervous and horny and excited and terrified all at once, and at the same time, nothing–blankness.

As he sat in the bin, he could almost feel the jocks crowding in around him, adhering to him, soaking away his consciousness, his awareness, his humanity. He made a game of resisting for a bit, but in all honesty, he was exhausted. Tired of thinking, tired of being, tired of caring, tired of fear and dread and all the rest, and so he relaxed. Let what will be–be, he thought to himself, and fell asleep, the jockstraps tight around him like a blanket, pulling the life from him moment by moment.

***

He woke suddenly, sensing a change in the room, though it took him a second to figure out what had happened, his head fumbling through sensations like it had never experienced them before. Finally, he sorted out that what had disturbed his rest was the lights turning on in the room, and he struggled around in the bin, sitting up and looking out over the edge of the bin at who had come in. When he saw that it was JR walking towards him, a swarm of emotions pumped through him. Raging horniness, as his cock, unattended all night, leapt to attention, smacking against his chest. Terror, as the last remnants of Jack struggled to regain control of the situation, but mostly–awe. His master–his master had come to see him, and the happiness that surged up washed everything else away, and he could barely contain himself.

“Well Jock, how was your evening last night?” JR said, “Goodness look at you–Dad said you’d change quickly, but still–I didn’t expect you to be this far along by now.” JR reached into the bin, hooked his hands under Jock’s armpits and lifted him out of the bin, the sense of weightlessness unnerving and thrilling. How could JR just lift him like that? “Come on, let’s let you have a look at yourself, eh?” JR added, carrying Jock towards and mirrors above the sinks, and if Jock had been able to make sounds with his cloth throat, he would have gasped. If yesterday he’d been lightly covered with jocks, well, his entire body was fabric now. In the night, it looked like every jock in the bin had converged on him, turning his body into a mass of mesh and elastic. No wonder JR could lift him so easily–he was just fabric–just a jock, no–just Jock. He had a sense that that wasn’t really his name, but that’s what his master called him, right? So that had to be his name. He was Jock, and accepting that gave him a burst of joy to his simple, cloth mind, and made the voice in his dick happy too. Still, something was wrong. He still had hands–fleshy hands, attached to mesh arms, and his cock was still flesh, and the sight unnerved him. He didn’t want to be flesh. He was Jock, he needed to be a jock, right?

Without Jock saying anything, JR could sense his unease. “Don’t worry Jock, we’ll get you fixed up here real quick, and then you can help me out with our naughty coach when he gets here in a little while–how does that sound?”

Jock grinned his mesh lips. He liked helping–maybe he’d get to clean out the urinals again–he was feeling kind of dry. JR carried Jock back into the locker room and set him down on a bench, while he dug into his bag and pulled out some plastic athletic cups. “Damn Jock, look at this fuckin’ tool of yours–I hope you don’t make anyone on the team jealous. Still, I can’t have you jacking off all the time, so we’re going to have to do something to make that a bit harder, eh?” JR said, wrapping both of his hands around Jock’s shaft and giving it a few strokes, Jock lolling back as thick, sticky precum leaked out the head, which JR took and smeared on Jock’s still human hands. Working on one hand, and then the other, he took one of the cups and pushed it over the fist, covering the flesh with hard plastic, leaving him with round cup fists where he’d had fingers moments before. Now, even if Jock had wanted to jack his cock, he couldn’t have. JR pumped the massive cock a bit harder, pointing the head towards Jock’s face, soaking the area around his nose and mouth. A third cup was stuck there and pressed down, one of the holes expanding into a crude opening for a mouth, permanently open, and finally JR brought Jock to orgasm, the cum fountaining out and down over Jock’s shaft, his cock softening, allowing JR to take the final, and largest cup, fitting it over the cock and sealing it to his mesh crotch, the plastic bulging, but completely inaccessible. However, JR was careful to leave Jock’s low hanging bull balls outside the cup, letting them dangle between his thighs.

JR released his hold on Jock, who immediately started rubbing his hard fists against the cup, but even though he was horny as hell, he couldn’t feel any pleasure through the plastic, and his horniness was only growing. “Calm down Jock,” JR said, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep you well satisfied. Now, I have to piss like a donkey.” He shoved his cock into the large hole Jock now had for a mouth, and a moment later pissed right into the team’s Jock, who felt pleasure flood through him even greater than when he jacked off. Service was his new pleasure, and service was what he’d been made for. He drank down his master’s piss happily, feeling his thirst abate slightly, and when the football captain’s cock hardened, he allowed JR to fuck his face, eventually pumping a load into Jock’s fabric guts.

“That’s a good Jock–you’re gonna enjoy being my team’s cumrag urinal, aren’t you? This is way better than being a stressed out office monkey, right? Aren’t you so much happier now than you were, little fucker?”

Jock nodded, grinning. To be honest, he had no idea what JR was talking about–he wasn’t even sure what an office was, other than the coach’s office, all he could remember was serving the team–isn’t that what he’d been made to do anyway? So of course he was happy–he was doing what he was supposed to do–what he was made for.

“Yeah, that’s a good cumrag,” JR said. “Now, we have a few minutes before coach gets here for our training session, so why don’t you be a good little team bitch and give me a shower? I’m still fucking ripe from that game yesterday–why don’t you start on my pits, and we’ll go from there?”

Of course, Jock was so short now that he couldn’t reach JR’s pits while the player was standing–so he sat down on one of the locker room benches and lifted an arm, giving Jock access to his reeking pit, which he started cleaning out with his mesh tongue, drinking down all of JR’s musk and sweat stench, listening to JR ridicule him the whole time. His cock–god he wanted to stroke his cock, but with his new hands, and with his thick stick locked away behind that cup, there wasn’t going to be any relief anytime soon. Still, that didn’t stop him from leaking cum the entire time out the holes of the cup, which JR would occasionally wipe up with his finger and taste, congratulating Jock on leaking like a faucet for his fucking musk, before smacking his balls around.

Once Jock had finished both of JR’s pits, the captain laid down on the bench face down, Jock hefting himself up onto the bench as well, giving himself access to his master’s firm, muscular ass and he dug right in, cleaning out the sweaty crack, digging into the hole as far as he could, listening to his master groan in pleasure, encouraging him to push deeper with his dirty talk, Jock obliging him as much as he could. After a few minutes, they both heard the door to the locker room open, and JR sat up, pushing Jock away, who scrambled down off the bench, curious what Master might have planned for the coach. He’d been a very bad coach yesterday–Jock could remember that. Imagine–the team not treating Jock like a fucking cumrag? How could he have even suggested such a thing? It was no wonder Master wasn’t so happy with him.

Coach turned the corner, a bit sheepishly, but his eyes widened in shock when he saw Jock there, a small, muscled figure made entirely out of jockstraps and cups, and his mind couldn’t even process it. “What…what in…Oh my god, JR, what in the hell have you done?”

“Oh, you mean Jock? Well, this spell wasn’t mine–this was my father’s, though I did add a few of my own touches at the end there. Don’t you like him? He’s so eager to serve the team, just like you ought to be–you could learn a lot from Jock here.”

“Look, JR, this has to stop. I’m serious.”

“Trust me coach–I’m serious too. Now, I really do think you need an attitude adjustment, since our talk yesterday seems to have worn off already. I’m still not entirely sure what exactly is letting you resist my power so much, but Jock, maybe you can help me out with this. We’re gonna go ahead and try and destroy the coach’s will, and turn him into a team slut–how does that sound? Would you be so kind as to put yourself on him?” JR said, and then reached down and pulled the cup away from Jock’s massive cock with a loud suction sound.

Jock had to think about what JR had said for a second…and he realized that he wasn’t entirely sure how to put himself on someone. Still, he was a Jock, right? So men should be able to wear him…the coach backed away, his eyes boggling at the size of the the thing’s cock, but Jock ran at him, jumped, and as he flew at the coach’s crotch, JR snapped his fingers, the coach’s clothing disappearing in a puff of black smoke. Jock felt himself shifting and changing in midair, growing smaller still as he flew, his legs slipping between the coaches, becoming two elastic straps, his arms wrapping around the older man’s waist and then back around, so that his face and both hands formed a single cup, all of them cradling the coach’s junk. The only thing on him which didn’t shrink was his cock, which broke through the coach’s virgin ass and burrowed deep inside him, the coach howling in pain and tugging at his elastic, but Jock just tightened up, refusing to be taken off until his master told him to release.

“Jesus Christ JR–gah, what the fuck have you done?”

JR ignored the coach and spoke directly to Jock, “Jock, I think you know what to do now–go ahead and drain coach dry, you fucking cumdump.”

Jock could do that. Somehow, he could work both his hands and his mouth on the coach’s cock in his pouch, and the older man let out a groan, his knees buckling from the pleasure. It only took fifteen seconds for Jock to pull the first load out of him, but he didn’t stop there–he amped up his efforts, and found his cock was perfectly positioned to milk the older man’s prostate as well. Soon, he had the coach in a state of near constant orgasm, but Jock realized that cum wasn’t the only thing he was draining from the coach. He was draining his vitality–his willpower–his life force. Sure enough, as JR watched in delight, the coach’s form began to shift, the man writhing in ecstasy on the ground. He wasn’t certain how old the coach was, but he would have pinned him in his late thirties, early forties. That, however, was rapidly changing. His hair started losing color as Jock drained him, a good amount simply falling out, and he lost all of his copious body hair, sporting a completely hairless body. His firm musculature started to sag next, the muscles softening and degrading into fat, giving him a second chin, soft moobs, and round gut. Jock could feel the new frame stretching his elastic further, and he loosened up a bit on his grip–noting that the coach wasn’t resisting him any longer. In the pouch, Jock could sense that his sucking was having another effect–the coach’s balls and cock were shrinking–rather rapidly. He’d had a rather average endowment, but now, his balls had been sucked dry, almost to the size of raisins, and his dick was barely an inch long. Jock was actually struggling to keep a grip on it, as the coach’s new fat pad pushed out, swallowing the shaft entirely, and soon after, even though Jock was still pumping–the coach wasn’t giving anything–he was drained dry.

JR seemed to sense that the coach was finished as well. “Alright Jock, I think that’s enough–give the coach a break.”

It took Jock a second to figure out how to untangle himself from the coach’s body, but after a few seconds, he pulled away, reforming into his previous shape–with one, rather large addition. His balls, hanging out below the cup where his huge cock was still held, were huge, and he could sense that they were brimming with the coach’s essence which he’d just sucked dry. JR took some of Jock’s precum and reapplied the cup over his cock, and then fondled Jock’s massive sack.

“Damn, look at those bull balls–we’re gonna have to find a use for those later,” JR said, then turned to the coach, who was sitting up on the floor, dazed, his eyes dull and unfocused. “Now then, I think the coach needs a little more work, but that was good work Jock.” Jock did his best to beam appreciation at his master.

“Oh god…How…” the coach wheezed, and Jock noticed that his voice had turned from a firm baritone to a far less certain tenor.

JR just looked at the man and said a single word: “Pig.” The coach gave a little snort of fear, and scooted back on his fat ass as JR advanced. “Pig. Piggy piggy piggy.” The coach gave a few more snorts, and Jock noticed a few subtle changes, the coach’s nose flattening into a bit of a snout, his ears growing a bit bigger and flopping a bit. JR caught up with the coach then and straddled his huge belly, grabbing both of the coach’s nipples and giving them a twist, the older man letting out a squeal of pain, which subsided after a moment into a few snorts of pleasure. “Pig. Pig slut. Asspig. Painpig,” JR said, varying his mantra a bit, and Jock saw the coach eyeing the captain’s cock hungrily, licking his lips, and then, instead of trying to get away, he rolled over onto his huge gut and presented his ass for JR, who didn’t even bother lubing up his cock. He rammed it in dry, and even though Jock could tell from the pig’s squeal that it must have hurt, he didn’t seem to mind it in the least. He relished it, he craved it. He wanted abuse, he wanted cock, he wanted to be used almost as much as Jock did. There was no trace of his earlier resistance–it was all stored away in Jock’s heavy balls now, but the coach didn’t seem to mind. He was happier, just like Jock was happier. He knew what he was now–he was a pig, nothing more. All he needed to think about now was pleasing his team, and serving them. Jock loved serving the team, almost as much as he loved serving JR.

JR gave a shudder, unloading his cum into the team’s new piggy mascot, and pulled out. The pig couldn’t cum, of course–he couldn’t even get hard, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to please his master more, and little more than an animal in his eyes now, he rolled up onto his hands and knees, massive gut dragging along the ground, and followed JR over to the bench. “Alright, that was much easier than I’d expected it to be. The rest of the team won’t arrive for practice for a while yet, but I think I know how we can keep ourselves occupied.” Apparently, for JR that meant having his new pig suck his dirty cock clean, while Jock took one of his cup fists and rammed it in and out of the coach’s cunt as hard as he could. Or at least, that’s what the team found when the started to trickle in for practice a few minutes later, JR telling them to get dressed in their practice gear as they arrived, before returning his attention to debasing his new Pigcoach and Jock.

Once the entire team had arrived and assembled in their gear, none of them really happy about being called in to practice on a Sunday immediately after a game, but they all knew better than to question JR. A few of the braver ones looked at their old coach and Jock, as JR walked over to where they were assembled, but the majority of the players ignored the strange men, and hoped nothing worse would happen to them. “Alright, I know none of you are very happy about practicing today, but don’t worry, today is going to be a party! We need to celebrate our victory yesterday as a team, right?”

Some of the team members, gave each other looks. “In the locker room? In our uniforms?” One of them asked.

“Well of course!” JR replied, “After all, we need to celebrate the pillars which are going to lead us to the championship this year, right? First though, I want to introduce you to someone. Since we currently have an opening on the coaching staff, I talked to my dad last night, and he graciously agreed to be our new head coach–isn’t that exciting? Now, why don’t we welcome him with a big cheer?”

The doors to the locker room swung open and Doug marched in, the team cheering and shouting praise for a man they had never met, though as soon as they saw the dark pools of his eyes, he seemed like the most familiar, comfortable–and handsome man they’d ever met. “Thanks son, I’m so glad I can be of help,” Doug said, joining his son up front and giving him a deep sensual kiss which gave most of the team–even JR’s most devout followers a moment of pause. “Now, JR has told me that he’s been introducing you to our family’s pillars, however, it’s time to introduce you all to the fifth one–a very important pillar, if I do say so myself,” Doug said, giving JR’s ass a squeeze.

The team was silent, and none of them wanted to hear what Doug had to say, but they’d all figured out that they wouldn’t have a choice in the matter. He was the coach now–and they needed to obey him like they obeyed their captain.

“The fifth pillar is this–team cohesion is of the utmost importance, and the best way to increase cohesion is sex. So from now on, we, as a team, are going to fuck as much as possible.” JR said, and the group’s awkward silence beat for a few seconds, before he continued, “After all, we’re a family, right? And cohesion is crucial for our victories. We need to know each other on the field like brothers, right?”

“And fathers,” Doug added, and JR groped his father’s crotch, giving him a lewd stare.

“But…But I’m not gay…none of us are fags, Captain.”

“Well, I know that! But we don’t have any women here, right? Some of us are just going to have to learn to like the pleasure of each other’s musk, and cocks, and asses. Don’t worry–with practice, I’m sure all of you will see it’s for the best.”

“No, no this has gone too far,” Garrett, the linebacker who’d protested the day before, said, “Look, I have to quit, JR. Cindy is more important to me than football, and I…I don’t know what’s going on here, but it’s not normal. I’m leaving, and I suggest the rest of you leave too.”

“Garrett, I know that sacrifice can be hard, but–”

“No, no this is…this is so fucked up. I’m done, I quit. I don’t care if I never play football again, I’m not doing this,” Garrett said, and started walking towards his locker to change back into his street clothes.

“You can’t quit Garrett, we need you on defense.”

“Yeah, well I’m sure you can find someone else to block for you.”

“Listen, Garrett is it?” Doug said, “Just hold on, I’m sure we can work something out,” but Garrett had already stripped, and his display of rebellion was sowing a bit of discord among the ranks.

When JR and Doug saw that Garrett wasn’t going to come to his senses, JR turned to Jock and removed his cup again, “I think I might need your help again. Why don’t you put yourself on Garrett for me? Don’t drain him–well, you can drain that head of his, but maybe give him some of the coach in return, understand? We could use a real brute on the defensive line anyway.”

Jock understood, and he advanced on the now naked Garrett, who froze when he saw the strange jockstrap golem approach and leap at him. The process was easy this time, and before Garrett even really grasped what had happened, Jock was on him, his cups going to work, milking Garrett’s head dry. At the same time, Jock started cumming, pumping Garrett’s ass full of the coach’s masculinity. The team watched in fascination and horror as Garrett changed right in front of their eyes, his slightly hairy body soon covered with a thick pelt. He grew several inches and packed on close to fifty pounds of muscle and fat, even as the intellect in his eyes dimmed and disappeared entirely, leaving him open mouthed, drooling, and horny.

“Hey Garrett,” JR said, “What are you doing over there, man?”

Garrett looked around, and down at himself, and he didn’t have an answer. “Uh…I don’ know…can’ ‘member…” he said, scratching his head.

“Well ya big brute, I got something you might like,” JR said, pulling his cock out of his pants and waving it about. Garrett, all thoughts of resistance gone, licked his lips, lumbered over to JR, dropped to his knees and took JR’s cock to the hilt, Jock untangling himself from the massive linebacker’s body, and looking to JR for approval of a job well done. Certainly the rest of the team had been sufficiently cowed by the display–and when JR and Doug’s eyes looked at them with their dark glow, well, suddenly that new pillar didn’t seem so strange after all. The room was full of their musk, and all of the players found themselves getting hard in their stinking practice uniforms. Some of the weaker men pulled their cocks out and paired off, unable to resist their coach and captain’s commands–the ones which lasted a bit longer watched for a couple of minutes, jacking off alone before joining in the growing orgy, JR allowing the now brutish Garrett to suckle on his meat while he surveyed his team, Doug giving the team helpful hints on the proper way to fuck and suck and please one another. It was going to be a good season this year, JR thought to himself–a very good season indeed.

***This story was commissioned in honor of a very special boy’s birthday.***