Come in, Cody.”
The jock closed the office door, swaggered in, and plopped himself in front of Coach Gonzales’ desk. “Wanted to see me, coach?”
The coach nodded vaguely and shuffled through a pile of papers that he held. “I have been getting reports of you being, shall we say, your usual charming self.”
“Isn’t my fault,” Cody said sneeringly. “Those bitches can’t notice prime beef when they see it.” He placed a hand against a thick pec and flexed it. “They should be lucky they get an alpha bull like me to notice me.” He flexed a heavy arm and smirked.
The coach coolly stared at the jock a few moments too long, causing him to fidget a bit. “I see. Well,” he continued as he put the pile on the desk. “I think we can easily put you down for probation-”
“The fuck coach!” Cody half rose from his seat.
“Sit your ass down, kid. Now,” he continued when the jock did so, “the school does not approve of your verbal attacks to our fellow athletes and students. Nor do we approve of you using your status in the wrestling team to press your teammates to do the same. I have heard for you to be expelled without honors, but I was able to lessen it to probation.”
Cody blinked a few times as the words sank in. “Hell…”
“Hell is right, son.” The coach leaned towards the jock and lowered his voice. “Frankly speaking, you should be fucking lucky you got me to save your misogynistic ass. Another coach would kick you to the curb without looking back.”
He reached under his desk, and he pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses. “I don’t usually offer drinks to your kind, but seeing that I pulled your bacon from the fire, I think we should celebrate a bit.”
Cody’s eyes lit up. “Damn coach, I don’t know what to say.”
“Say that you will obey me to the letter. If I hear you doing this shit again, I will be the one demanding the expulsion.” He pushed a half-filled tumbler towards the jock. “Do you understand?”
Cody took the glass. “Yeah, whatever,” he said before gulping down the whiskey. “Woah, that’s harsh.”
The coach leaned back in his seat, his own glass untouched. “Now that we got that done, let me tell you what I expect to see from you now.”
As he continued, the coach noticed that Cody’s face was slowly getting slack, his eyes drooping. Five minutes into the talk, he stopped. “Cody?” He leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of him. “Cody, can you hear me?”
Cody’s face twitched a bit, but nothing else.
The coach stood, smiling grimly. Stupid jocks, he thought. Give them alcohol, and they will take it without even thinking. He went around the desk and helped Cody up. “You’ll going to help me out a bit,” the coach said, slightly staggering at his weight. “We are going to take a small trip to the back office.”
The front office was sparsely furnished, only a desk, chair, and a filing cabinet. The back office, on the other hand, was stuffed with computer servers and monitors. A few seats were scattered across the room; they were hooked up to computers and odd-looking machinery.
“Now, Cody,” the coach said as he gingerly placed him into one of the seats. “Since you are knocked out for a few minutes, and probably will not remember what is going on once I am done, let me tell you what’s happening.” He adjusted the straps around the legs. “Not many of you kids know that before I was a coach, I majored in psychology. Published a paper in two about behavior modification, nothing too bad. However, they thought my experiments were too extreme, so they expelled me. Dragged my name through the dirt. Typical fat-assed whiners talking about morals and ethics.”
“Now,” he continued as he did the same to the arms, “some people might have taken that as a setback, but not me. I knew I was on the right track, and after a few key changes to this college, I got into coaching you sorry lots.”
He stepped back and gazed at Cody, bound in the chair and his head lolling at one side. “You see, I got the idea to use you guys as guinea pigs. Use the information from my studies. Experiment a few times. My raw materials to create sculptures.” He smiled and lifted an odd-looking helmet from a wall nook: it was made of silvered glass and plastic with wires attached at the sides and the top. “And this is my chisel.” His lips quirked upward. “A bit crude, but the best I can do with the school’s funding.”
Cody’s head slowly straightened up, his eyes fluttering. “You fucker…” he slurred out.
“Ah!” the coach said, pleased. “The drug is already working out of your system. Excellent. I was thinking I was going to wait a bit longer.” He slipped the helmet over the jock’s head and adjusted the chin strap. “Now, all you need to do is to relax and enjoy the ride. I certainly will.” He reached over to an open laptop and turned it on.
A dark green background flickered on, blank for a moment, but then filled with scrolling code. A minute later, the screen faded to black, then started to show mild grey static with a little red dot in the center. A timer swiftly counting down from sixty minutes was discreetly at the corner.
The coach nodded in satisfaction and walked back to the front office to find someone there.
“Ah, Chad,” he said to the other occupant. “What’s up?”
Chad was built like a powerlifter, huge and beefy, dressed in a Lycra singlet that did nothing to hide his thickness or the powerful bulge he was carrying. “I need to be milked, sir,” he said gruffly.
The coach looked at his watch and grinned hugely. “And how badly does the moocow need to be milked?”
The stud shuddered slightly. “I-I need it badly, sir.”
The coach went up to Chad and placed a hand on his chest. “How much milk is the moocow going to produce today, I wonder,” he murmured. He started to rub a chest nub with his thumb.
“Fuck…” Chad moaned out, his head falling back as his body was electrified with pleasure. “I-I can make a lot of milk, sir,” he panted.
“Well, you have to prove it to me, moocow,” the coach said, his thumb still teasing the thick nub. “I want all of my moocows to be good producers. Can you be one?”
Chad was lost in lust; a huge wet spot was slowly expanding at the bulge. “Y-yessir…I’ll be a good bull…a good bull…”
“Well, come on then, moocow,” the coach said, turning around and going back to the inner office, leading Chad inside.
Chad noticed Cody, his eyes going wide. “We’re going to have another one, sir?”
The coach nodded as he went to one of the machines. “Yes, he’ll be a good moocow like the rest of you are. Once he’s done with this session, I’ll place him under your care. I’m sure you know what to do.” He motioned him forward. “But that comes later. Time for your milking.”
“Fuck,” Chad breathed out, quickly slipping out of the singlet and shoes. He stepped up to the machine, where the coach bound his legs and wrists.
“You’re such a good moocow,” he murmured as he slipped a suction cup around Chad’s thick cock and another one around his heavy ballsac.
“T-thank you sir…I’ll make you proud, sir…”
“I know you will,” the coach said as he turned on the machine.
“…and that is why you have to keep the rules.” The coach looked worriedly at Cody. “Kid, you’re okay?”
Cody blinked a few times as he rose up from his slumber. Did he actually fall asleep listening to this crap? “Yeah, I think I’m okay.” He shook himself and noticed the time on the clock. I’ve been out for twenty minutes? he thought to himself
“The whiskey must have knocked you out,” the coach said smirking a bit. “You kids are such lightweights, not able to take a man’s drink.”
“Fuck you,” Cody said.
The coach’s eyes narrowed. “Which brings me to the rules themselves.”
“The rules, dipshit. Or did the drink cause a few brain cells short out?” He leaned back in the chair. “As you may have remembered, the probation starts today. If any student or faculty member in the school catches you making any kind of mischief with any student or staff, your ass is dismissed. No more appeals.” He smiled grimly. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Dammit!” Cody swore as he slammed down the weighted squat bar. He was missing another training session with his team, but the probation the coach put him on gave him enough time off for his anger to peak off into a constant simmer. He still remembered the closing warning he got before he was dismissed.
He could have almost thought there was something else to the conversation. It was a bit fuzzy after the drink, but when he tried to concentrate on the moments after, he would remember the warning and cause him to get upset again. Now, a few days later the meeting, and he was at the weight room, getting into the weights and trying to work his anger through them.
The fact that he was batshit horny did not help matters as well. He tried to jerk off to some porn on his computer, but he kept on getting distracted with his homework and other matters that, oddly enough, he suddenly deemed important to do.
Cody did another bone-breaking set and slammed the weight again into the starting position. He took a step back and admired his body. He posed a bit, picking up his shorts to flex his legs. Damn, he was looking huge.
“Well, if it isn’t Mister Cody. Back at the gym already?”
The jock turned to face Mr. Bulde, the head powerlifter coach. He was massively built, dressed in an old-school singlet striped in red and yellow that did nothing to hide his hairy bulk. “Yeah. What of it?” He turned back, swearing something under his breath.
“Language, Cody.” Bulde warned as Cody unracked the weight. He was going to say more, but instead stayed silent, looking on as the jock did another set. Bulde noted the form needed work, and he stepped in to give Cody a spot when he noticed the knees buckling.
“You got this, kid,” Bulde muttered as he gently helped Cody ease the weight back up. “There we go,” he added when the bar clanked back into position.
“Thanks, coach,” Cody breathed out, leaning on the bar. “That wiped me out more than I thought.”
Bulde nodded. “Why not take the day off,” he said. “It’s like you’ve been camping out here.”
“Yeah,” Cody said. “I’m trying to work out this anger, but dammit, I’m still pissed at the coach.”
Bulde reached over to pat Cody’s shoulder. “I’ll see about easing some restrictions. You’re a good kid, you know?”
“Thanks, sir.” The pat caused Cody’s knots of anger to slowly dissolve, leaving him oddly peaceful.
“Come on,” the coach said. “Let’s talk for a moment.”
“Why are we here, sir?” Cody said when he was in Bulde’s office.
The coach smiled from his seat. “I’ll be blunt. Gonzales told me you would do great in powerlifting as well as wrestling. And after seeing you train these past days, I happen to agree with him.” He held up a warning finger. “That does not happen often, so don’t get any ideas.”
“Me? A powerlifter?” Cody shrugged. “I’d like to stay in my wrestling team, if that’s okay.” He added hastily at Bulde’s expression. “I mean, thanks for the offer.”
Bulde opened to say more, but a soft chime rang out from somewhere in the room.
Cody saw Bulde shuddering like a tree caught in a high wind, his eyes closed tight. When he opened them, he looked at Cody. “Fuck…gotta be milked…”
“Gotta be milked, kid.” Bulde stood up, showing off an impossibly thick cock straining against the Lycra. A small wet spot already stained the tip. “So fucking horny…”
Cody would have bolted from the chair if Bulde didn’t say the words that shook him to the core: “Relax, moocow. Obey the bull.”
He shuddered just as hard as the coach did. “W-what did you say?”
Bulde slowly came up to the jock. “I said for you to relax, moocow. You need a lesson in being a good moocow, dontcha?”
Cody couldn’t move, part of him screaming at him to run while another, more insistent part told him just to relax, to obey this thick bull in front of him…
“Kneel, moocow,” Bulde barked out.
Cody’s knees hit the floor before he realized what his body was doing. He looked at the coach’s heavy cock bound in Lycra and started to drool. “I-I…”
“First lesson, moocow,” Bulde said. “A moocow does not speak until a bull tells him to, understand?”
The jock nodded. He couldn’t move; he didn’t want to move. He wanted to be a good moocow so badly.
“Good boy,” Bulde said, ruffling the jock’s hair. Cody felt a jolt of extreme pleasure from the gesture, causing his already hard cock to burble pre. “We’ll make a good moocow of you yet.”
The door opened, and Bulde looked up. “Ah, Chad, come in.”
The guy stepped in and closed the door behind him as he took in the sight. “The herdmaster said that I was to meet with the new guy, coach. Looks like you got him first.”
Cody looked at the newcomer. He was almost as beefy as the coach, with a bulge to rival his.
“Yes, moocow. Come and service your bull.” Bulde peeled off the singlet, showing a thick veiny cock with a plum-sized head and a ballsack filled with fist-sized fruit. He raised his hands and placed them behind his head, his hairy bulk only showing how big he was. “Bulls need milking, moocow.”
“Fuckin’ a, coach,” Chad scrambled up and knelt, licking the leaking shaft.
“Awfuck,” Bulde groaned out, thrusting his hips against Chad’s face. Chad also moaned, placing that huge cockhead into his mouth and trying to suckle on that thick fist.
Bulde noticed Cody kneeling and motioned to his heavy chest. “Suckle, moocow. Obey the bull.”
Cody stood up, the voice urging him to leave now silent. Yes, he thought to himself, I must obey the bull. He stepped towards one of coach’s thick nipple and started to worship it, lightly teasing it with his tongue, feeling a thick creamy fluid filling his mouth. He drew back in surprise, seeing a pearl of white fluid seeping from the nipple.
“Suckle, moocow,” Bulde growled, pushing Cody’s head against his chest. “Bulls need to be milked.”
The jock obeyed willingly, trying to get more of the delicious fluid as he licked, then nibbling and biting, the fleshy nub. He felt a stab of jealousy at this. He wanted to be able to be milked, to be suckled by his fellow moocows.
He wanted to be a bull.
“Awfuck, boys,” Bulde grunted. “Gonna cum. Gonna give you milk fresh from the source.” He pulled out of Chad’s hungry mouth and pushed Cody down to replace him. “Such good moocows,” he murmured.
Cody quickly went to work, instinctively latching onto the drooling cock and sucking at it a moment before the coach groaned loudly, shooting out enough cum completely flood the jock’s mouth. He pulled off, quickly swallowing the thick fluid and allowing Chad a chance to get a dose.
“Fuck yeah,” Bulde growled as he shot into Chad’s maw. “Drink it while it’s fresh.”
The two jocks switched places with every shot, each jet filling their mouths with warm cum. “Such good moocows,” Bulde said when he finished his orgasm. He rubbed his chest with its dripping nipples. “Come get another dose of bullmilk.”
They stood up and attached to those nubs, pulling out mouthfuls of creamy fluid.
After a few minutes, Bulde pulled Cody off. “You did good, moocow. You deserve a reward.” He lifted Cody’s head to meet with his eyes. “Listen. Focus. Obey.”
Cody blinked a few times, feeling his head clear and his lust intensify. “The fuck, coach?”
“Go to the herdmaster and tell him what you did.”
Cody nodded and, without looking back, he walked out the office.
Ah, Cody,” Coach Gonzalez said as he saw the jock walk in. He noticed the dazed expression and eyed the tent in the shorts. “Do what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Need to be milked, sir,” Cody said lazily. His hands twitched towards the tent, but they stayed put.
A slow smile crept over the coach’s face. “Oh? Then tell me what you did to deserve it?”
As Cody told the coach what happened, he felt his mind clear further. The voice that stayed silent during the session with the other coach came back in full force, yelling at him to get out and report this to the authorities.
“You did well, moocow,” the coach said, and Cody realized he finished the report. He felt a small stab of gratitude at the praise. “I expected this to happen a bit later, but being with Bulde must have hurried the time table a bit. Ah, no matter. He’ll be rewarded in due course.” He rose from his seat and looked at Cody. “Listen. Focus. Obey.”
“Aw, fuck,” Cody breathed out. The internal voice was growing louder. “I…I need to…” Why was it so hard to say he had to leave?
“You are not going anywhere, moocow,” the coach said, going around to close the office door. “Not that it matters, though.” He went back behind the desk and opened a drawer to pull out a chained medallion. “Even if you were to leave, I’d only have the other bulls, aha, herd you back in.” He smiled and held up the chain.
“Listen, moocow. Obey the Herdmaster.” He began to twirl the metal between his fingers. “Focus on the shine. Soothing, isn’t it?”
“I…I…” Cody’s eyes dragged themselves to the twirling shine, his body slowly going limp.
“Very soothing, yes?” the coach’s voice smoothed to quiet tones, honeyed and oiled at the same time. “Deep breaths, moocow. Obey the Herdmaster.”
“Yeah…” Cody felt his body responding, taking deep soothing breaths.
“You’re already relaxed. It is easy to relax in front of your Herdmaster. So easy. So right. So easy to get more relaxed, more focused.” He stepped closer to Cody, still twirling the medallion. “Every breath gets you more relaxed. You feel relaxed, right, moocow?”
“Yeah…” He felt the inner voice slowly quiet into a murmur, then slipping to nothing.
“Good moocow.” The coach stopped twirling the chain and put it on the desk. “Good. We shall begin the next session. We will make a bull of you yet.”
Cody felt his cock twitch, and he smiled blissfully. “Yeah. W-wanna be a bull,” he babbled. “Like the coach.”
“We will do that,” the coach said, the voice smoothing more. “But you need to be a good moocow first.” He placed an arm around the jock and led him to the back room. A few chairs were already occupied by guys with various builds and ages. Helmets with silvered goggles covered their heads.
“Now,” he said to Cody as he led the jock around the equipment. “Tell me. What do bulls do?”
An image of Bulde flashed through Cody’s mind. “They give milk, sir?”
Gonzalez nodded. “Good moocow. Yes, they do. What else do they do, hm?”
“Er…” Cody saw himself at the squat rack. “They lift?”
“Close enough, but yes. All bulls have to show to the world that they are bulls. That means they have to get thick and massive.” They stopped in front of a cage of wielded iron and padded leather. Harnesses were dangling from the bars.
“This is the next phase of the training.” He looked at Cody. “Are you ready to be a good moocow and obey?”
The answer leapt from the jock’s mouth. “Yes!” His breathing got heavier, his cock harder. “I want to be a bull, sir!”
“Good moocow.” The coach reached down to grope the rock-hard cock, causing Cody to moan deeply. “Hm, we need to get you thick and massive here also. A bull needs to show how virile he is. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
He nodded and let go. “I thought so.” He took a step back and snapped his fingers. “Obey!”
“Sir!” Cody straightened like a soldier at attention.
“Take off your clothes and step into the cage.”
Cody quickly complied, tossing his clothes into a pile.
“This will only take a few moments, moocow,” the coach said as he started to strap the harnesses around the jock’s arms and legs. He then went to a squat container and picked out two rectangular plastic bags, one filled with blue liquid and the other clear.
Cody’s eyes went wide. “What are those?”
“Things that will help you be a bull, moocow.” The coach hooked them along a tall metal stand and readied two IV needles. “Relax!”
A wave of lethargy swept over the jock, a wave so strong that he didn’t notice the coach slip the needles into his arm until he saw them sticking out. “What in the world…?”
“You’re such a good moocow,” the coach said, interrupting Cody. “You did well today. For that, I’m willing to give you a reward.” He picked up an oversized motorcycle helmet bristling with wires, the front silvered glass. He slipped it over Cody’s head.
“Sir?” Cody tried to fight the drowsiness. “What is going—”
The coach turned to a laptop the helmet was attached to and turned it on. “Focus!” he barked.
The screen flickered on, showing another snowy static screen with a red dot.
“I…” The rest of the sentence trailed off as Cody focused on the dot, his mind going blank and supple.
“There,” the coach said. He stepped back and nodded in satisfaction. “Another bull in the making.” He grinned widely. “And another stud for my studies!”
A buzzing interrupted his thoughts, and he turned back to the group he passed by. One of the laptops was edging towards the last rapid minute on the timer.
“Ah, chairman, looks like you’ll be ready for your next discussion.” The static screen flickered off, and then another stream of code slid upwards before turning off. The coach waited a moment before he slipped the helmet off. A man dressed in a suit and tie blinked dazedly at the coach.
“If you could follow me to the front, sir?” the coach said. He gently picked the man by the arm and lead him to the outer chambers.
“And so, sir,” the coach said when they were comfortably seated, “now that you have tried the machine, how do you feel? Relaxed? At ease?”
The official nodded slowly. “Indeed, Mr. Gonzales, indeed.” He blinked a few more times and gazed at the coach. “I can see why the wrestling team would benefit from this ingenious device.” He nodded again. “Quite remarkable.”
“And now,” the coach said, pulling out a small liquor bottle, “a toast to the future of the team?” He took out two small shot glasses and poured a small amount in each.
“I do not drink during work hours,” the other said, but he shrugged. “Still, a small tipple won’t do harm.” He took the glass and sipped slowly. “It is strange, though.”
“Hm?” The coach leaned back in his seat.
“I am trying to remember why exactly I came here for. Something important.” The man screwed up his face for a moment, but then he shrugged. “It will come back to me, I’m sure.”
“Nothing important, I’m sure,” the coach corrected. The officer slowly nodded, his face going slack for a moment as the suggestion took root. “Isn’t it nice to know it wasn’t important?”
“Oh yes, indeed.” The words came out automatically.
“So then, you will head over to the dean and tell him that it wasn’t important?”
The man grinned widely. “Indeed, sir.” The officer nodded vigorously, and put down his glass. “In fact, I will go to him right now, and tell him that it wasn’t important.” He stood up.
“Of course.” The coach also stood and extended a hand, which the officer shook. “You will tell him to come over personally to try out my treatments?”
The muscles on the man’s face twitched. “Indeed,” he said. “I will make sure to bring him here.”
“Excellent.” The coach went and opened the door. “I think that concludes our business here. Feel free to come over anytime, sir.”
“Of course, of course.”
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