Focus: A football story

by kg21

The team’s star quarterback is about to find out Coach’s big secret for keeping the team focused on football.

Added: Aug 2020 10,849 words 3,590 views 5.0 stars (3 votes)

Coach had always been tough on the team, but the payoff seemed to be making it to the playoffs for the last three years straight. Coach was a very muscular large guy, nice looking for a guy, I guess—at least all the girls around campus said so. Coach was kind of old. I mean he had to be at least 32 maybe even 35. He was single as far as anyone knew and he never seemed to date. There were plenty of girls on campus who would have gladly volunteered though I suppose that sort of thing is frowned on by the board. Coach claimed he was only interested in sports. It seemed if he wasn’t leading a practice, or coaching a game; the freak was working out his own muscle packed body. Coach did nothing it seemed but lived to coach football and work out. He was the best coach around… at least in the small college division we competed in—his record proved that. Everybody liked and respected Coach even if he was pretty impatient with fuck up’s and had his own set of rules for dealing with them. Four of the guys on the team had gone to his house for extra drills and practice this year alone. All came back to practice the next day with a buzz cut and were dead serious about football.

I had always been star quarterback back at my old high school and at least for the last two years here at Blackmore College. I had played varsity since the start of my freshman year. I was the backup quarterback at first but mid-way through my freshman season I was promoted to starter over a senior. I’d hoped to finish my senior year in that position. Over the years on the team I had never had to go through one of his special practice sessions. I was always the most driven guy on the field. Seriously, I lived for one thing and one thing only: football. I guess I was kind of like Coach in that regard.

I was the shit… that is until last July. Over the summer I’d hooked up with this great girl. I guess you could call me a late bloomer in that department. I came from a Christian boy’s school where dating wasn’t encouraged. There was a spring formal of course and what they called mixers which were basically pizza or bowling parties with girls from area churches; heavily chaperoned and no way near real dating. I had started college planning on holding off for marriage. Yeah, I know what you are thinking… crazy right? The other guys on my team call me ‘Sir Tebow, the virgin’ but that’s okay. Well than I met Beth and all that changed…well sort of. Let’s just say my goals changed. See, Beth is built very well like us guys like, only problem she hadn’t put out yet. See, it was like she was built for sin but lived for Jesus. I’m crazy about her. It was driving me nuts; she had yet to even suck me off. We’d been going out since mid summer. Kissing and letting me feel her up was all I was getting.

Then it started to affect my performance on the field. I mean Beth was on my mind night and day. It was all I could think about. All it took was a glimpse of her with the other cheerleaders on the sideline during a game and the next thing I knew I was sporting wood under my tight uniform. Imagine trying to keep your mind on the game with a raging boner filling your pants and a whole line of huge guys bearing down on you, hoping for you to screw up just once so they could pound you into the ground. We were still winning our games but not by much and not like the old days. I was in a slump and it was showing signs of deepening.

The guys that had extra practice at the coach’s house seemed to really straighten up and be much more FOCUSED on the game which was great, I guess, even though they seemed different in some way. We had asked the guys what happened at Coach’s but they wouldn’t talk; only saying that the coach swore they would be off the team if they ever told anything. It was like a big mystery but I will say those guys got their shit together. They even seemed more serious in the weight room and started to pound on muscle. So it kind of like scared everybody; like you didn’t want to get singled out for one of his sessions but yet the guys that had, had kind of this badge of honor thing going—like a secret fraternity. I mean as long as Coach had been around, anybody who had been made to take his extra practice session had kept their hair buzzed off like they were in boot camp or something—not just for the rest of the season but for the rest of the year. Coach had pictures of these guys on the walls of his office and several of them ended up playing pro ball. Quite a few more went into coaching. Most of the others ended up as bodybuilders or competitive power lifters. They were all studs like Coach. To a man the guys were jacked though not quite as much as Coach was. They all started out on Coach’s shit list.

As my slump deepened, I started worrying about ending up in one of those sessions and being in for a buzz cut by Coach. I had let my hair grow last summer with the thought I’d cut it before practice started. Then I hooked up with Beth in July. She liked my long hair and convinced me to let it grow. I had a lot of hair by now. It hung out from under my helmet. Beth loved it and liked to play with it when we made out. She said I was like the Biblical Samson and all my muscles and ability came from my long hair. Beth swore if I cut it I would be weakened like Samson and then she would have to dump me. I really didn’t want a buzz cut. I’m almost sure Beth wouldn’t dump me but then I didn’t want to give her a reason to put me off anymore either. I was wearing her resistance down and I know she wanted it as much as I did. We were so close doing the deed.

Well the weekend was coming up and I had an after game date Saturday night set up with my girl. This had to be it, if she didn’t give in soon I was going to pop! I made special plans; reservations at a classy restaurant, pulled out a suit to wear, ordered flowers. I went the extra mile. All week I could think of little else. So after strapping on my pads and jock I headed out to the field for Thursday’s practice. The coach was soaked with sweat all ready, wearing a gray T-shirt and old white practice pants with pads like he always did. They were his from his college days and worn thin over the years, you could see his jockstrap lines over his bubbled ass and a huge bulge in the front. Hell half the time, you couldn’t pick him out from one of the guys on the team except that he was bigger. He looked like a roided up muscle freak in the tight pants and shirt he cut down to let his thick abs show—like some pro-football player had joined the Podunk college football team. Coach kept a set of his own shoulder pads and helmet nearby at all times. If we weren’t practicing up to his standards, Coach wasn’t above pulling on the gear and showing us how it was to be done. Let me tell ya, you know you’ve been hit when six foot four inches and 260 pounds of solid muscle sacks you. His methods worked cause Coach never expected anything from anybody he wasn’t able to do himself. We all half feared him and half wanted to be him at the same time.

Coach was in his usual mood yelling and bitching at everybody. As I walked onto the field the man looked over with his ‘don’t disappoint me’ look as he slid his cap back on his head and spit out the whistle he had between his lips. The big man walked over, leaned down and put a heavy arm over my shoulders as he quietly growled in my ear that I better be ready for practice, that this was the last warning and if I didn’t get my shit together I would be reporting to his house later. I felt a spin in my gut.

The team warmed up and stretched. We ran some drills, threw some balls and I thought I was doing pretty well. Next we spread out and I was to practice some pitch outs with the receivers. I did well for a couple run-troughs till one of my buddies bumped me as we got back on line and asked, “Beth given up her cherry yet? Boy if you don’t hurry up, I might have to step in and help her out.” Boomer rocked his hips as he spanked air. “I’d tap that ass as a favor to ya, Preacher. Then you’d stop worrying about it…you know show her the ropes, give her a taste of a real ma…” I shoved him about five yards and told him to shut up.

That was all it took, Beth came into my mind, causing my dick to swell in my tight wet jock. I swear all I could hear was the lacings on my pants creak and stretch as my dick got harder and harder. Things went downhill from there. I fumbled around when the center shoved me the ball and then pitched the ball behind my receiver. Coach saw it and yelled from clear across the field, “What the hell was that?” The whole team stopped what they were doing and looked. From then on he was on me like stink on shit. He came running up like there was an emergency as we started our next drill. I was so fucked up I fumbled the ball completely from my center and lost it between my legs. I was falling to pieces to Boomer’s enjoyment. At one point, Coach grabbed the ball from my hands and gave me a shove out of the way. He ran the drill as quarterback for several plays. No matter what happened he hit the receivers so hard in the chest with the ball, he almost knocked them over. I felt like a seven year old kid again who’d stepped on the field for the first time… if little kids could have eight inches of raging meat getting crushed in tight pants.

Coach slammed the ball into my belly and grunted, “That’s what I’m expecting to see.” I was so fluster-fucked by then all I could see around me was my Beth in that skimpy swim suit at the lake last summer teasing me… like all of the guys drilling with me had turned into my sweet breasted Beth. I shoved my hands under my center, Rondo’s ass for the start of the play and it was Beth’s fleshy butt. I dropped the ball the next few times or threw some wild assed passes that were well off the mark. I was complete shit. Coach finally called me over and barked, “Get the hell outa here”. He told me to go sit in the locker room but to stay suited up with my helmet on. I didn’t know why he wanted me to have my helmet on but the look in his eyes told me that whatever his reason, I wasn’t going to question it. I ran to the locker room and sat on the bench with my helmet on, knowing I was in big trouble this time. At one point this old janitor comes in and looked at me sitting there all suited up. He just stood there looking at me. I glanced over a couple times hoping he would get lost.

“I’d guess coach has another late night practice in mind for someone,” the man said as he emptied the trashcan.

“Looks like it,” I replied.

I sat there for maybe like 20 minutes more before the coach came stomping in, slamming the door against the wall when he came in. One look at him and I could tell he was pissed. The next thing I knew he was right on top of me like a drill sergeant yelling at me, nose to nose and every once in a while he would reach up with his knuckles and rap on my helmet as if to drive in a point. He informed me, “You are to report for some training and discipline at 7:00 pm at my place. Wear your gear and bring your cup if you’re not wearing it now because you’re gonna need it.” For a brief second his eyes glanced down at my lap and I was afraid he was going to rap on my nut sack just to check for my cup but he didn’t. “Now I’m going to give you some instructions and maybe …just maybe if you can follow then to the letter, you might have a place on the team come morning!” Coach gave my helmet a hard rap. “First off, I want you outta here before any of the team come back cause I don’t want whatever has taken over your brain and made you stink, infecting the rest of my boys! That means you’re gonna wear your gear home, cuz you’re not changing here. When you get home, don’t even shower or think about washing your practice gear. I want you out at my place just like you are now, with the stink of failure all over ya! Now, right now, I want you to run not walk to your car and don’t talk to anyone about where you’re going tonight. At 7:00, I want you to pull in my driveway and I will open the garage door. At that time you will pull in and stay in your car till I tell you to get out. got it?” he yelled.

I was looking at his feet and replied, “Yeah.”

Coach grabbed my facemask and pulled me to my feet and yelled, “What is that boy? I think a yes sir is in order.”

I could feel my whole face burn and I yelled back, “Yes sir.

Coach turned me around by my face mask toward the door, slapped my ass really hard and said, “Now we will see if you can focus your little mind on that, jocko! Now move!”

I ran out the door looking only ahead. A few of the guys near the field were yelling for me to come over to tell them about what had happened but I ignored them. I got to my car and drove to my apartment without stopping. My roommates were still at practice so I went straight to my room, slamming the door behind me. I tossed my helmet into the closet. I fell on my bed, still in my sweat soaked gear. I laid there thinking ‘fuck I am in so much trouble.’ I didn’t even call Beth as she would ask millions of questions cause by now she would have heard about getting kicked out of practice. All I could think about was what coach was going to do to me? That and how heavy my nuts felt right then. Shit, my dick was still hard. I jumped up and locked the door before lying back on the bed. I unlaced my pants and freed my dick. I let myself think of Beth and her sweet tits as I jacked my pud. I don’t know how long I laid there playing with myself but I couldn’t do it… I couldn’t bust a nut. Hell lately I’d been so horned up, I sometimes blew a load when I got thinking about her at practice even, or while studying, anytime I showered. Sometimes when I took a piss even I’d go into a stall and squeeze one off. Lately I couldn’t help it…not to mention in my sleep…I blew all the time, when I was asleep. Lying back staring at the ceiling, I had nothing except a raging boner that was bouncing half way up my chest and nuts swelled up like goose eggs. Finally I gave up and just laid there soaked in sweat thinking how fucked I was.

Well, 6:30 came in no time, so I dug in my bag for my old banana cup, cuz I didn’t want to forget anything I was told. On the way over I kept going over my orders. Coach lived in an old farmhouse outside of town. I got to his place smelling like an old forgotten jock strap. I pulled in the drive at the same time the garage door was opening, I looked at my watch, 7:00 right on the button. So far so good or so I thought I told myself that I would just half to tough it out and take the heat to prove to Coach that I was his quarterback and that it was just a slump.

The door closed behind me, out came coach in the same sweat soaked T and dirty football pants. He ordered me out of the car, I stood up with a half smile but before I could speak he asked for my cup. I reached back in the car and grabbed it along with my helmet off the seat and handed the cup to him. Coach handed me a bottle that looked like a sports drink and said, “Drink this; you’ll need to keep your strength up for this workout.”

I brought the bottle up to my mouth. It smelled nasty and was kind of thick. I brought it to my lips and took a sip and it tasted as bad as it smelled. Coach stood looking down at my cup as he waited, he held the cup in his big paw and looked down at the bulge on the front of his tight faded pants—there was no comparison. If my cup had been the size of a teacup then his must have been as big as a soup bowl. I hesitated over the drink and then started to hand it back to the big man, “A… I’m okay. I ate at…”

“Did I ask if you were okay? Down it now. You got thirty seconds! Thirty, twenty-nine. Do it! Twenty-eight…”

I brought the bottle to my mouth and started chugging. The stuff was beyond nasty. It tasted like liquid rubber but I did my best to just focus on emptying the bottle. Coach was a hulk. If he drank this stuff to get jacked then I would too.

“Five, four, three…” Coach snapped the empty bottle away before I had even taken it from my lips. What happened next totally threw me for a flusterfuck. All of a sudden my cup was shoved up to my face. Then everything went dark as a tight underarmour compression hood was put over the cup and my head. God my sweat soaked cup smelled so bad, but I had a feeling I better start liking it. Finally my helmet was placed on top of all this making my helmet so tight it hurt. Coach grabbed onto my facemask and led me to the front of the car where he pushed me down over the hood. He started spanking my ass with a board like some frat initiation. I could only imagine what it looked like cuz it was getting real warm in my tight football pants. Dude, it really hurt. I was about crawling up on the hood with every smack but Coach had his hand down the back of my shoulder pads and kept pulling me back and holding me right where he wanted me.

“Tonight is going to be about focus! I don’t know where your head has been lately son, but it has not been on football! I’m sure you showed more focus as a fourteen-year-old kid that didn’t know a football from a popcorn fart than I’ve seen all season. This horse shit just ain’t gonna fly!” He yelled and smacked my ass a couple more times, “Now that I have your attention is there something you want to say now before we start?”

I replied, “No sir.” I wasn’t repeating any earlier mistakes.

He said, “Wrong answer.” He smacked my ass real hard. “Thank you sir is all I want to hear tonight. Because I’m gonna fill you up with pearls of wisdom and motivation. So is there anything you want to say NOW?”

Thank you sir!”

“That’s more like it.” Suddenly he pulled me up off my car and grabbed my facemask and we headed inside. I stumbled along behind him blindly as he led me with his thick hand pulling on my facemask like it was a handle. I felt him reach up and grab the front of my shoulder pads through my jersey and guide me down a flight of stairs. He took me to a cold basement. Coach backed me up against something. I felt Coach slip an arm between my legs and as if I weighed no more than a child he tossed me on a cold table, face up where he started strapping my arms and legs down. He unlaced my pants enough to get at my jock pouch where he started squeezing till the pain was unbearable, “Like that. Don’t ya…. just focus on the pain, you do know how to FOCUS… right? Focus is when something is so mind filling that you can’t think of anything else. Looks like you like this some; your dick is getting hard.” He slapped my dick around then moved down to my balls. Gees, it hurt bad, but my dick was rock hard, and dripping precum. I was embarrassed but I couldn’t help it.

“Now for our next exercise in how to focus.” He reached under my shoulder pads and placed clamps on my nips twisting them till I was ready to scream, then taking clothespins and putting them all over my chest and onto my balls still covered in my damp jock. Actually there were 50 total, because he made me count them as he finally took them off, one by one, so I counted backwards hoping not to miss one because if I did he put it back on, till I got the count right. Coach would reach up with his knuckles and give my helmet a rap whenever I was wrong and he did, till I could focus…46, 45, 44, … 30, 29.. etc. This went on for hours it seemed before he finally flipped me over tying me face down this time. First he swatted my sore ass a couple times, to get my attention, he said. It had to be bright red. On top of it all, I was burping that crazy supplement drink and it tasted and smelled like rubber. I wished my head wasn’t wrapped up like a mummy so I could try to spit.

Next I felt him grabbing and cutting open my football pants over my ass, “Not to worry boy,” he said. “We have plenty of these old practice pants.” To be honest, my pants were the last thing on my mind just then.

I could feel the cold air as I lay, ass exposed, fully geared up. He spread my butt cheeks exposing my virgin hole. He bent over spit on it a couple times before trying to get a finger in, and yes it was tight. Nothing had ever went in there. I mean not in a million years would I have even thought about sticking anything up there. I got real scared then. I wanted to yell and fight but I was strapped down.

“Relax”, he barked. “I ain’t going to fuck ya.” Then, he shoves a finger that felt as big as a hammer handle up my ass and then tells me to relax again—I mean it’s like shoving your head down a toilet and telling you to take a nap. “Focus and Relax!” He growled again. I tried to make my body go limp, hoping he would stop if I did. Soon though he was doing something with his finger and … well, I know this is nuts but I was starting to like it, I mean it felt sort of good. Then he stopped and I felt something bigger at my hole. He shoved it in hard this time, taking my breath, and I moaned, and he said, “What’s that?”

All I could say was “thank you sir”. “Thank you sir!” That huge dildo like ta split me open but after a while it started feeling good too. I guess he could tell cuz the way I was squirming against my straps. Suddenly he stopped, and gees, I felt a bigger one being slowly shoved in. He must have greased this one up cause it felt different. I knew this had to be the biggest they made though cuz it hurt so fucking bad. Soon though even it didn’t feel so bad and I guess I was squirming again and moaning some though I tried hard not to. I was hard as a rock. Coach stopped again and pulled it out like I feared he would and replaced it with an even bigger one. I mean this thing had to be a big as a tree limb cuz I swear it felt like he was shoving his arm up my ass. Once he had it in as far as it would go I felt the big man moving around the table until he was right by my head. I could feel the weight of his big arm over my shoulder just like he would do when he talked to you on the sidelines.

“Now that is the last one. We got you all plug up for now. How’s that feel?”

“Okay, I guess…” As soon as the words had slipped out I realized what I’d done. God I’m so stupid. If my hands had been free I would have been punching myself in my own head. I felt his knuckles rap roughly on my helmet again.

Wrong answer!”

Yes sir… I mean, thank you sir!”

I felt Coach move away again and heard the sound of his cleats on the cement floor as he walked around the room circling the table. I could picture him in my mind, strutting along with his cap on backward while he chewed on his whistle like he always did when he was thinking hard, in that old faded t-shirt he wore. The shirt had once had ‘Texas Football’ written on the front but after years of washing the letters could barely be made out. The shirt was so old and soft that it fit his muscled torso tighter than the UA shirts the team wore. I mean the shirt was tight as hell and you could see every bit of his huge pecs through it even the way his nipples pointed down underneath all that muscle. We all knew he wore those tight shirts just to intimidate us with his muscle bound body and it worked. Coach was a freak no one dared lip off to. He might just go ape shit and knock you through a wall or something … or make you go to his place so he could shove something up your ass. I was so fucked.

“Now that is just what I mean about your lack of focus. It’s like you can’t keep your mind on anything longer than five minutes at a time.’

Thank you sir!”

“It’s like you can’t take the pressure anymore?’

Thank you sir!”

“So if it takes all night for you to learn to focus, that’s just what we are gonna have to do.”

Thank you sir!”

I heard the man on the far side of the room and then a click. A motor of some sort kicked on. It sounded like an air compressor and my mind could only think of a nail gun. I felt a kick in the gut as fear gripped me and I wondered what was coming next. The crazy bastard was probably going to nail my hands to the table like some horror movie. Despite the loud motor I could hear the click of his shoes as he returned to my side. I was so scared; I could feel my eyes well up. No wonder the other guys refused to talk about these private sessions with Coach. I squirmed and my mind returned to the large dildo planted in my ass. It felt like it moved again… turned a little.

“We’re going to turn up the pressure and then run some drills, during which your mind will be completely focused on football. Is that clear?”

Thank you sir!”

“That’s more like it.” I could feel coach fumbling with the dildo in my ass but he wasn’t working it like before and he wasn’t taking it out. “Now you are going to feel a sense of pressure within your body but you are going to just relax. It’s not going to hurt you”

“Thank you sir?” I was afraid at what would happen next but there was little time to think about it as Coach hit something on the dildo and I felt pressure grow within me. It was like the damn thing was a balloon and it was filling me up inside. The next thing I felt was growing pressure in my gut.

“Feel that?”

Thank you sir!”

Coach shoved his hand under my body and felt my tight six-pack as if to check on what I knew was happening. I was blowing up. Coach had attached an air hose to the thing in my ass and was now inflating me somehow. All the while that rubber taste in my mouth seemed to grow stronger and I knew the drink he had given me was somehow involved. I could feel the pressure growing in my abs but as Coach rubbed my belly I could tell my muscles were blowing up. It wasn’t like it was giving me a beer gut. I could feel the air move up into my chest and arms as well as down into my ass and legs. Coach reached down and pulled some slack into my belt and lacings on my pants. There was just enough slack in my ropes to move my legs slightly as I lay with my ass in the air. As I felt my body swell, I couldn’t help but work my legs back and forth as much as I could. I couldn’t help it! I worked my legs along the edge of the table as if to crawl off the end. I could feel my thighs growing thicker by the second. Every time I moved I could feel the vibrating plug in my ass shift horning me up even more. I was dripping so much precum now that it felt as if I’d totally soaked my jock. The cup stuck to my face had shifted a bit and I chewed on the edge to keep from moaning out loud. I still was making grunting noises in my throat from some sick sort of pleasure. I couldn’t help it. I must have looked like a real pervert strapped to the narrow padded table with my swelling ass in the air, writhing my muscle encased legs as I all but jacked off against the soft table. I know it was wrong but I couldn’t help myself.

I felt a hard slap on my bare ass which brought me back to reality for a moment. Coach left his callused hand on my ass as he said, “You’re coming along nicely.”

I wanted to moan but knew the rules. “Thank you sir!” Even under my padded helmet it sounded as if the phrase was grunted. The pressure grew over every inch of my body and for how long he let the thing fill me, I can’t say. It may have been minutes but felt like hours. All I know was I could feel my muscles slowly hulking out in time to the whirr of the machine. As I lay face down on the table I was rising up higher as my body grew like some human air matt. My arms and legs inflated thicker. The straps on my pads dug into me on all sides and my uniform got tighter by the second. I could feel the shoulder pads pressing into my helmet and it was starting to hurt my jaw and chin. All I wanted to do was grunt or moan but was able to restrict myself to an occasional, “Thank you sir”, whether Coach had said anything to me or not. I began to tap my head into the padded table as the pressure got so strong it was all I could do not to call out. As I blew up bigger and bigger my ropes grew tight. I could barely move my legs at all now but I still shifted my thighs against the edge of the table.

My muscles weren’t the only things blowing up. My cock and balls felt huge. My cock had slipped out of my tight pants not long after Coach started blowing me up. Now it was pinned under my belly. It felt like my swelling abs were massaging it as I swelled bigger and bigger. I was so close to blowing a load but I…I mean with Coach standing there and all, I just couldn’t. I felt like I was growing a third leg as I swear my cock stretched almost to my chest. My aching cum filled nuts felt as big as oranges and now were straining my laces. I felt the ties begin to rip free one eye at a time. I must have moaned and grunted or given something away in my writhing cause Coach slapped a paw on my bare ass again and said quietly, “I’m surprised you haven’t spewed by now. Don’t be shy, everybody does. It can’t be helped it just the way guys like us are hardwired; when things swell up we bust a nut. There’s no shame in it. Besides you need to tame that hard on before you can suit up for drills.” Coach smacked my ass again and commanded, “Go on son, blow! Get it over with.”

Well it wasn’t like I could help it. I grunted, “Tha…nk…y…ou,…s…ir”, and was shooting before I got the words out, I felt cum splashing against my pecs and soaking my belly as I shot again and again. It had never been like this and soon the front of my jersey was soaked and I could feel the juice sliming up under my pads as my pecs swelled bigger. I couldn’t admit it but it was the best blow I’d ever had. All my months of dreaming and obsessing over Beth and I’d never come close to imaging anything near as great as this was! I just sort of collapsed once I’d emptied my nuts and could barely catch my breath. “Thank you sir”, I croaked.
At the point that I felt I had to be about the size of a parade balloon and nanoseconds away from blowing out of my pads, Coach shut down the machine. I could feel him disconnect the hose from the butt plug. Then he turned something on the damn thing and I felt it change somehow as if it reformed no longer feeling like it reached all the way to the middle of my chest but was firmly swollen into my ass hole like a soft ball. I heard the sound of duct tape as coach began stretching my pants closed again and taping up the hole, running the tape back and forth between my legs until he was satisfied that there was no way the butt plug was coming out.

“Okay, the next rule is that you will not so much as let a single fart slip out for your ass, let alone that butt plug. Is that clear?”

Thank you sir!”

“You’re gonna to hold all that air inside you no matter what. Is that clear?”

Thank you sir!”

Coach then moved around the table unstrapping my arms and legs, which now felt as though they might be pulled from their sockets.

“All right, sit up.”

Thank you sir!” I felt stiff and tight when I tried to push my chest up. I was blind to my surroundings so I slipped a leg off the table and tried to reach for the floor but couldn’t find it. I don’t know if I was moving too slow or what but Coach soon pulled me up to a seated position on the table with my legs hanging off the side. I was so swollen I felt as though I was sitting a foot above the table. I could hear Coach moving around and the sound of drawers opening. I ran my hands over my thighs. They felt enormous and wet with spew. My pants had holes along the seams and even around my pads I could feel bloated rippled muscles.

Coach knocked my hand away and he started cutting up the side of my pants. He worked fast and I knew he had practice at it. Soon he had pulled me to my feet and cut the legs off my practice pants until they were as short as underwear. I could feel my wide muscled thighs flare out underneath the tight shorts. Coach then reached up under my shoulder pads and released the belt around my chest and straps under my arms. I took a deep breath and it felt as though my body swelled like bread dough once freed somewhat from the too small gear. He shoved a towel into my hands and said, “Clean yourself up.”

In a flash, Coach was working on my helmet and pulled it off. He then pulled my pads and jersey over my head as I wiped my stick cum from my chest and legs. Then with a quick movement he freed my head from hood until my eyes blinked against the light. Coach dropped my cup into my hands as he pulled the towel away and pushed me to sit on the table again.

I sat there blinking as my eyes became accustomed to the light. I wasn’t just in a basement but it was some sort of a dungeon weight room. Coach had more weight lifting equipment down here than our school weight room did but that wasn’t the biggest surprise, after all coach was a muscle freak. It was all the other stuff. Racks and tables and chains attached to the floor joists over head. Everywhere there was sports gear hanging on racks, football, hockey, baseball, even scuba gear and wetsuits. The walls were covered with mirrors and it was this detail that I locked onto. I couldn’t believe I was looking at my own reflection. Sure it was my face but beyond that my body looked more like coach’s than mine. I mean that machine had blown up my muscles until I looked like I weighed 250 or more. I sat there feeling the plug in my ass every time I shifted an inch. I hate to admit it cause this is just wrong… but the plug felt good. It would shift and slid a bit when I moved and it was like my cock started getting hard again. My hair was soaked with sweat and hung over my swollen traps like a wet mop. The UA shirt I wore under my practice uniform was sweat stained and torn where my inflated muscles had ripped open the seams. I looked amazing. I had a good muscled foundation that the girls seemed to like: nice arms, six pack…you know… but now I looked like a roided bodybuilder.

Coach had turned to a large cabinet and pulled open the doors. It was full of football gear. The man started pulling out pieces of his collection and tossing them on the table next to me. “Those aught to fit you. Get suited up for practice.”

Thank you sir!” Practice? What the hell was he thinking? I was inflated like a roided up inflatable doll—now he expected me to practice?

A shirt hit me in the face. It was one of his faded gray shirts and smelled like he had pulled it off after running a marathon. Coach reached over and grabbed a hold of my UA shirt and with two rough tugs had ripped it from my body. I pulled his worn shirt over my head and it fit well.

Thank you sir!” I stepped into an old pair of Coach’s football pants as the man handed me pads to slip into the pockets. Next Coach threw a larger set of shoulder pads over my head and strapped them on before going through the sizing routine that was used at the start of the season.

“How’s that feel?”

I picked up a football and pulled back like I was going to pass. They fit well. I started to answer but caught myself. “Thank you sir!”

Coach pulled a light blue jersey off a hanger and threw it over my head and helped me get my arms down the sleeves. I started to lace up the pants but coach knocked my hands away and said, “Hold up there.” He slipped around behind me and shoved a tailbone pad into the backside. I felt it over the butt plug pressing it in tighter. I started to moan but caught myself. “Thank you sir!” Coach handed me my banana cup but as I looked down at the bulge in the Lycra pants it was apparent that my muscles weren’t the only things that had grown. My soft cock was easily twice what it once was though my recent blow had returned it to more normal proportions.

Coach grinned and pulled one of his cups off the shelf and stuffed it into my pants. Hell the thing looked about the size of a hockey mask but was sized well to my nuts and dick now. He tucked in the hem of the jersey and then started to lace me up. The man then pulled as much slack from the laces as he could as he pulled the pants up around my hips before working slack out of the strings again. Each tug cinched in the pants tighter and tighter. Every movement made the butt plug slip in my ass. I felt my dick stir again in its plastic cell as Coach cinched me into the skin tight Lycra. It was all I could do not to moan out loud. “Thank you sir!”

Coach cinched in the web belt at my waist in effect locking my muscle-inflated body into the uniform. The big man slammed a football into my gut as he started to throw a jersey covered shoulder pads over his head. With the insert of a cup and his helmet the hulk was ready to go. The man looked like a pro but then thanks to the inflation plug in my ass, so did I.

“Time for practice.” Coach went to a door and opened it to reveal steps to a metal covered exterior hatch. The man pushed open the hatch doors and hit a switch on a breaker box. Lights outside flickered on and it looked like the whole backyard lit up. Coach stepped back into the basement and picked up a duffle bag with one arm. He shoved my helmet over my head and motioned to the door. “After you.”

Thank you sir!” I felt so awkward as I stumbled for the door. I bounced off of everything near and when I got to the steps, I slowed down and tried to look down as I raised a foot. I felt like I was walking around in some sort of inflated suit and every step felt unfamiliar. I stumbled over the step and fell on my face.

“Well Jesus Christ!” Coach rumbled. As I slowly got up on my hands and knees I felt the strong man hand slip into the back of my pants. With a jerk the strong man picked me up by my belt as if I was a suitcase and carried me up the stairs. He tossed me onto the ground. “Get up and get ready for practice.”

I looked around me. The large back yard looked like half a football field. There was even a goal post at the far end of the yard with lines chalked off across the flat treeless lawn. A tall dense hedge surrounded the area. Lights on the back of the house and on poles set into the hedge lit the area in a soft glow despite the dark night. I slowly got to my feet as a duffle bag full of footballs landed beside me.

Coach walked by me quickly onto his own private football field. “Bring the balls.” He called over his shoulder.

Thank you sir!” I grabbed the bag and drug it behind me as I waddled behind the coach. Every step reminded me of the rubber butt plug and my inflated body. This crazy bastard expects me to play football after inflating me like a balloon.

As I stood beside Coach, the big man put his arm over my shoulders, “Look over here.” The man pointed out some plywood targets. “I’ll call out left right or center and you will try to hit the hole in the target. I’ll feed you balls. Easy enough. Remember hold the air. No farts.”

Thank you sir!”

Coach held up a ball and tapped my helmet with it. “Focus! Don’t think about anything but football.”

Focus my ass. I thought as the big man slammed the ball into my gut. “Center”

I raised back and let go. The ball flipped end over end not even coming close to the target as if I’d never thrown a ball before.

“What the hell was that? Focus! Right” Another ball was slammed in my gut. The pattern was begun as Coach slammed a ball into my hands with a new target called out, followed with all kinds of criticism when my passes failed to even come close. All the while the big man kept up a steady stream of shouts in my ear. The tenth throw clipped the corner of the plywood target and it took six more tries until I threw one through the hole above the painted on players hands. We ran this drill for at least a half hour and by the end I had gotten my aim back despite my wildly inflated body and was hitting the target at least 85% of the time. Every time we ran out of balls, Coach would send me out to retrieve them. As I waddled out the first time with the empty duffle bag to retrieve the balls, Coach threw his helmet on the ground and yelled, “Run, you lazy fuck. What the hell do you think this is? A walk in the park.” I began to jog as best I could scooping up the balls and shoving them in the bag like a man who had just learned to walk. I once lost my footing in the dew covered grass and dove hard, chest first into the ground like an overblown blimp.

Before I could get to my feet I heard Coach run up and felt him grab the collar of my pads and jerk me to my feet. “No laying down blimp boy. You trying to take a break? Get those balls in that bag! Move it move it.” Now he followed me yelling as I picked up the balls and stuffed them into the bag. So for the first half hour we went through target practice while the man kept up steady pressure without stop like a crazed drill sergeant. By the end I was moving more easily and getting some of my agility back. Coach kept up a steady poking and running his hands under my pads to make sure by muscles hadn’t lost any air with the threat that if I had let some of the pressure off he would blow me up twice as big and the practice would start over from the beginning.

“Take a knee.” I took off my helmet and forced my inflated body down, knowing that if I fell; there would be no end to the grief. “All right fatboy, now we’re gonna run some plays. I’ll call the play on my first step and go out. You will hit me.”

Thank you sir!”

Coach tossed me a water bottle. I sniffed at the bottle at first and then satisfied that it was truly water drank it as if I was dying of thirst, hoping to wash that rubber taste out of my mouth. Coach pulled it from my hand and tossed it aside. “Hold on there no use in you getting bloated.” The man chuckled for the first time all day as he put his helmet on.

Soon we were running plays and as with the target practice my first throws at a moving target were pathetic. Coach scooped up the wildly off target ball and in a flash shot the ball back at me with all his might. I jumped up as the ball mounded into my chest and fumbled it as I was nearly knocked over backward as the berating coach jogged back to my side. By the third toss I was at least able to get the ball within the neighborhood of the old college receiver. Every try was returned with a lightning fast pass that put me to shame.

Next Coach had me run for a good twenty minutes. We started with scissor steps but with my inflated legs it felt as though I was walking. Coach followed me the whole time yelling insults into my ear and grabbing me by the collar whenever I stumbled, pulling me back up on my feet. Then it was jingle jangles where I had to reach down at each line and touch it before returning at the starting point and running back out to the next line and repeat the task, each time adding 10 yards to the distance until I reached the goal line and returned—that was one jingle jangle. I had to do ten. I wobbled and waddled with coach matching me step for step while keeping up the constant commentary. He wasn’t even winded. When I fell he would reach down and jerk me to my feet. I finally made it through and collapsed panting on my back. I was sweating like I’d been sealed up in a plastic bag. Coach tossed me a bottle of water as he paced beside me letting me rest.

“Okay, now we are going to run some rushing drills. You will snatch up the ball and I will count off three seconds before I rush you. Your goal is to pass the ball and I mean pass the ball before I get to you. No wild shit, throwing the ball away. Got it?”

“Thank you sir.” I mumbled as I got to my feet, wondering when this would end. I did have to admit beyond the discomfort I had been able to focus on the tasks at hand better than I couldn’t remember in a long time.

I walked up to the line of scrimmage. On my first three tries, coach was on top of me before I knew it and pushed me down as he ran by. With each seceding try he got a bit rougher. The fifth try I got the pass off. The next two times the big man tackled me hard and shoved his hands into my chest as he got up off me. If it had been tough getting hit by the freak before try it inflated like a human beach ball. The next two tries I actually got the pass off.

I was beginning to get the hang of it. I backpedaled as coach counted, “one thousand one, one thousand two…” I had my arm back when the man’s wide shoulder hit me in the gut and I was slammed to the ground with his weight hitting me hard. There was no missing the loud and long sound of air leaking from my ass as if someone had stretched out the neck of a balloon. I clenched my ass and it stopped.

“What was that?”


Wrong answer!”

I rolled over with every intention of running as far and as hard as I could but before I could get to my feet, Coach had me by the belt and was half carrying/half dragging me back to the basement.

Fuck his rules. “No coach, no more air. I’ll do anything.”

Wrong answer.

Thank you sir!” Coach slammed me on my back on the table and in a flash had my arms strapped down. He took two fat leather belts and first cinched one tight just under my pecs and the other around my waist. The man then hooked my ankles to ropes that were attached above by pulleys and pulled the ropes until my legs were in the air and he had free access to my Lycra coated ass. I felt him poke around for his target and with a quick slice he had opened a small hole over the threaded valve in my butt plug and attached the air hose again. With a hum the machine started again, I felt the pressure build but this time it was contained in my gut. Coach by use of the belts was giving me an air filled roid gut.

I would raise my head from time to time to check on the mound that was rising slowly under the jersey. Soon it was sticking up over my thickly inflated chest. Coach shoved his hand under the jersey and ran his palm over the inflating gut ball as it quickly with through various stages in size. First the size of a melon and then basket ball size and then bigger still. He banged my helmeted head into the table as the pressure grew all the while knowing he wouldn’t stop until the thing was massive. Finally the compressor fell quiet. I glanced up and couldn’t see over the damn thing but I could tell coach was bent down behind it because I could feel him cinching the butt plug even tighter in my hole and detaching me from the tank. Once I was sealed up he released my legs with a crash and freed my arms. The muscled freak put his hand in the collar of my shoulder pads and pulled me to my feet and up the stairs.

I walked behind cradling my instant roid gut in my hands. The mound was enormous, further around then I could reach.

“This time I will give you a break. You don’t have to pick the ball off the ground you can keep it in your hands and I’ll start to count at your first move. You make ten passes and practice is over.”

Thank you sir!”

I grunted when he slammed the ball into my inflated belly but waddled up to the line of scrimmage. I picked my target area and stepped back but before I had gotten the ball released the big man had me on the ground with his weight spread out over mine increasing the pressure a hundred times. The ball slipped from my hands and coach was on it like stink on his gear I wore.

Fumble!” Coach barked as he jumped to his feet with the ball. He tapped me on the helmet with the ball and said, “Focus.”

There was no way I could sit up with that ballooned gut so the big man rolled me over like a human beach ball and I forced myself to my feet and grabbed the ball from him.

Thank you sir!”

The next two tries I got the ball off before he touched me. Coach didn’t speak but patted my back before he went to retrieve the ball. The next time he was on me in a flash but I tucked the ball under my arm and held onto it though it meant I hit the ground gut first. I felt some of the air in my belly shift into the rest of my body as the big man fell on top of me. I knew I had to make my plays before so much air was forced into my arms and legs to slow me down to a blimped up waddle. I sprang to my feet and grabbed the ball. The next three times I got the ball off even going so far as ducking under his arm the third time before I made my pass. The next time coach was on me in a flash and I hit the ground rolling over several times before I came to rest. I felt his hand slip down my neck as he pulled me to my feet and pushed the ball in my arms.

I was half way there. The next play I stepped back and rolled around the big man, surprising him. I heard him slip and fall in the wet grass and I took off for the goal line. I didn’t think of anything but running for that goal. I heard the man running up behind me and he sounded like a herd of cattle. I knew he was gaining fast and was close behind. Only not close enough as I stepped over the line. I spiked the ball into the ground and started to dance. I turned and pointed at the big man gasping for air, “Thank you sir!”

“Don’t get cocky.”

Next two tries, coach tackled me hard. I was up and at the line ready for more. I got three passes off in a row. As we walked to the line I leaned back and patted my gut like a drum and said, “Thank you sir!”

This time I took three steps back and when the big man came at me with his arms out I ran right for him and leaned back. I hit him with my big ball gut figuring if I couldn’t reach around it he probably couldn’t either. Whether it was surprise or fatigue, I don’t know but coach was knocked back and I plowed him over. I mean he hit his back and I ran over the top of him like a pile of shit. I didn’t stop until I was in the end zone and had scored again on the big stud. I turned around and slapped my gut and raised my arms over my head and yelled, “Thank you sir!”. I pointed at him and repeated, “Thank you sir!”

I picked up the ball and waddled back toward him, knowing that I had made it through his special practice. When I got up to him, I got in his face and yelled, “Thank you sir!”

The man reached up and caught a hold of my facemask and “One More Thing!” Coach drug me back into the basement and pulled my helmet off. The big man shoved me down on a stool and bent me forward as far as my gut ball would allow. Coach leaned on me with a forearm and the pressure within my skin increased. Then I heard a click and a loud hum. I felt a vibration on the back of my neck just before my long hair began to fall away from the clippers. I looked at the floor as the man worked and my hair fell around me. In no time I had what they call a high and tight like a soldier. The strong man pushed me and spun me around as he tossed the clippers aside. I felt him rip open the small opening in the ass of the pants I wore and with a turn of the valve in the butt plug I felt the thing shift shape again as it deflated. Coach shoved my helmet under my ass and caught the butt plug in it as it shot out of my ass. The air was filled with the sound of a deflating balloon. I could feel my body shrinking as coach reached under the jersey and removed the two belts around my torso. My ball gut rapidly shrank as his gear seemed to melt around my shrinking body. In no time I was left standing in his oversized uniform holding up the pants with one hand. The shoulder pads now looked like I’d stole them off a giant. Yet I still felt different… bigger somehow.

Coach shoved my helmet into my side and a smell hit me that I don’t even want to tell you about. I looked up at him and grinned. “Thank you sir!”

“Clean that up and this place,” he said as he looked at the hair scattered at our feet. I looked down at the inflatable dildo and was surprised at the thing that felt as big as his arm was so small. “Now here are the new rules of life for you. That plug is your best friend; bring it to every practice and every game. You will go to the bathroom stall before practice tomorrow… the one that shares the wall with my office. Inside there is a cap on the wall. Under it is a compressor hose. You will insert your best friend and blow yourself up.” I guess the look on my face transcribed the words in my head cause Coach said, “No not like a muscle bound sumo star but the other boys of the buzz cut will show you. Just enough to keep you focused! Your new uniforms and gear will be in your locker to guide you.”

I suddenly realized what the others had been through, the added muscle, the secrecy and camaraderie. They all played football with plugs of their own. It was all becoming clear to me. “Thank you sir!” This special practice session had been a life-altering experience. No more so than the thought that I would be able to swell up on my own too. My cock had been throbbing since I realized the fact.

“You better wear my gear home but I want it back, laundered. Is that clear?”

Thank you sir!” Finally it was getting real late and coach knew we both had school tomorrow but I had survived Coach’s special practice.

I showed up at practice the next day with one awesome buzz cut and looking like I’d gained twenty pounds of muscle, a reminder of that night learning to stay…..what’s the word?


“Yeah good boy!”

Update posts:
Site Update: 22 August 2020

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