Athletic Support
"Matt, we found the perfect solution for your team." Said the principal. "It's obvious we can't compete in the regionals at this rate, your team of wimpy kids don't even know the difference between American football and soccer. But this marvelous man...What was your name again?"
"There's no need for formalities. Just call me Tie." Said the tall and serious-looking man. "This man...Uh..."Tie"...Has kindly proposed us a very generous deal. He's knows of a legendary team coach and he'll help us hire him practically for free! The only thing they want in exchange is our old CPR practice dummies!" "Those dummies will be very helpful to us. We really need them for our... 'sessions'." Tie calmly said. "Don't underestimate their value." Matt the team manager had his doubts. Why would such a 'legendary' coach be so interested in putting a bunch of bratty jocks into shape for free? Oh, well. At least he could take a few naps in his air-conditioned office while the coach did all the hard work for him.
Bob, the weakest link of the team, was waiting in the locker rooms for his new coach to arrive as were all of his teammates. With his buzz cut hair, piercing blue eyes, and a constantly gruff expression on his face and a deep voice, you'd think he was the most ferocious looking of the bunch. But in fact, no matter how much he worked out at the gym, he still had a pudgy belly. This made Bob hate his own body and this translated into hatred for the rest of the team members. That's why he always got into trouble. Maybe if instead of thinking of his own body and thought more about teamplay maybe he'd be the star of the team, sixpack on his torso or not. Yeah, maybe all this time he was wrong about... "YOOOOOOO Everyone!!!! Where are my jocks?! Where are my machines made of pure muscle, polluting the air with their manly testosterone?!!!" The teammates were puzzled. Who was that enthusiastic man dressed in a coach uniform that looked two sizes too small? He can't really be their new coach, right?... The 30-year-old man was tanned all over, his short black hair in a crewcut, chestnut-colored eyes, and his impressively thick jaw made him look menacing already, and that's without looking below his neck. Holy fuck, this guy was ripped! His biceps and pecs looked like they were about to explode, and...was that an eight-pack?
"Agghhh! Don't tell me you're the brats I'll be babysitting from today! You look like what, 14?" Actually the younger team members were 18 years old, and Bob himself was 21.
"I'm Cotton, your new coach nice to meet y'all pricks!"
The jocks didn't know what to respond. "So what are y'all waiting for?! Sweat those muscles, give 20 laps at full speed around the stadium or something!" "Aren't we supposed to warm-up first?" Asked one of the athletes. "There's no need to warm-up! It's freaking hot outside!" "He...Doesn't look like he has studied P.E at any legendary university....or studied anything at all for that matter." Bob whispered to one of his teammates. Reluctantly, the team ran 20 laps around the entire stadium at full speed. Needless to say, most of them collapsed and some nearly fainted afterwards. "That's how I like my boys! Worn out and sweaty!" Cotton exclaimed. "That could be easily misinterpreted out of context..." Bob thought. "In fact, I think it's the perfect time for a surprise muscular check up!" The exhausted jocks were shocked. "But we had a medical check-up just last week!" Cried one of them. "No, no, no. This is not one of those extremely embarrassing physical exams where they stick you lots of needles and stuff. This is a muscular check-up!" "What's the difference?" Asked Bob. "Muscular check-ups aren't just about health. It's about team bonding. The fruits of our hard work can't be keep to just ourselves! That's just selfish! We have to share our muscles with the world!" "Uh?!!!" Cried Bob. "Is this guy some sort of creep?" Said another. "What the hell does all that mean?" Muscular check-ups are surprisingly easy to perform, and can be done at any moment. Just let your coach take a feel of your hard-worked muscles and he'll tell you what areas need more work. They are to be performed in public with all of the team members present, that way everyone else knows about the strengths and weakness of each member of the team. Muscular check-ups are, to put it plain and simple, about showing off to your buddies. That's the perfect way feel more secure of yourself and motivate others to improve their bodies. ...At least, that's what Cotton assured his team. It was awkward at first, but everybody got the gist of it very soon. Except Bob. "Bob, you're the last one." Said Cotton. "It's not like I think you need a muscular check-up because your frame is impressive, but rules are the rules!" Cotton got all excited up when Bob came over, just like every single time one of the boys had came toward him previously. "Mmm...A-are you sure this is necessary...?" "C'mon Bob, we're all men here! You just have to show me your six pack, and everything will be over." The boy's face turned red. "Uhh...Well..." Bob lifted his shirt until his big belly button became visible. Cotton looked with spark with his eyes...until Bob removed his shirt completely and his pudgy belly was exposed to all. "It's..." Cotton stammered. "...Well, certainly your abdominals must be buried in there somewhere..." Cotton felt Bob's belly, and the boy shuddered. He hated people touching his belly. It tickled, in a bad way. Cotton's fingers dug deeper with brute force, looking for the evasive abdominals. "This is very bad..." "What is it?" Bob became scared, what if the coach had found a tumor or something? "You're fat. That's what it is." Said Cotton slapping Bob's belly, which jiggled rhythmically for a few seconds. The other jocks laughed at the pitiful sight and Bob became so red he thought he was gonna melt right there. "I want to see you later in my office...Bobby."
Bob was freaking scared. He hadn't liked how the coach had called him 'Bobby' one bit. The man looked really menacing, he didn't want to talk to him face to face in a closed room! But now here he was, sitting on the coach's office, Bob's impressive frame looking like a feeble fly's compared with the hulk he had in front of him. "I'm going to be frank with you Bobby. I've been reading the reports of the team's previous matches and it's blatantly obvious that you're the main reason the team's falling apart." "That's not true! I'm the MVP of the..." "I'm not talking about statistics, it's your attitude." "Uh?" "Well, that and that you're fat, Bobby." "I'm not! I train and work out every day! I just have a bit of a belly..." "Bobby..." The coach Cotton did something unexpected. He removed his shirt. "I want you to look at my abs." "Uh..." "Describe them." "They're...magnificent." "Now look at the belly hiding behind your shirt, Bobby." "Umm..." "Describe it." "Okay, okay! So I'm fat, so what? Could you put your shirt back on? It makes me feel uncomfortable..." "Why? We're both men. Besides, I didn't remove it for you, I feel pretty hot in here. It's getting dark and the full moon is starting to become visible in the sky." Cotton cryptically explained as he scratched his back. "In any case I have a proposal for you Bobby, not only I can be your coach, I can also be your personal trainer in your free time." "I don't have that much money to..." "Aw, c'mon. I'll make it for free..." "Uh...But why...?" "I want to be your personal trainer, I want to sense how every single muscle of you is developing, I want to taste every single drop of sweat your body segregates, I want to smell your pheromones as you work out under my orders every day." That's it. Cotton's a creep. Bob stood up to go away but Cotton grabbed him by the arm. "You're fat, Bobby. And that makes you feel worthless. You want abs like mine. I can shape you into the greatest bodybuilder in the world. All I ask for in return is that you'll let me support you through all of it." "...Are you...a pervert?" "Of course not! I don't find your fat body attractive at all! I'd rather fap to a magazine than fucking your fat ass! The only reason I made this proposal to you and only you is that you're the only one in the team that desperately needs my support, even though you don't know it yet..." "...I'm not sure...Maybe I'll think this through and..." "CUT THAT CRAP BOBBY! Fuck, just let me help you...! Whoops, sorry, it's already starting and I'm feeling quite drowsy...Ugh..." Said Cotton moments before collapsing on the floor. "Coach?! What happened? Are you okay?" Silence. "Coach, wake up! I'll let you train me if that makes you happy!" The coach's body seemed to become smaller, as if it were disinflating. In fact, his jockstrap was visible on his groin...Wait a minute! That was no groin at all! There was nothing below Cotton's torso! Just a jockstrap! The coach's face was beginning to disappear as well! His head turned into blank cotton, of a dark color just like the tan that his human skin had, then his head merged with his groin making a full pouch, and his muscular arms turned into very thin strings of dark-colored fabric. It was hard to admit but...Where Cotton once stood there was now just a pile of clothes. Bob was horrified. A very tiny jockstrap emerged from the pants it had fell on, and just like nothing peculiar had happened, Cotton's voice came from inside it. "FUCK YEAH! It's been such a long time since a human had agreed to wear me! I'll be the best athletic supporter you'd ever had! Oh, Bobby, our new life with your future muscular body and me will be fucking awesome!" Said the jockstrap bouncing with joy. "Oh...Shit..." Bob wished he had kept his mouth shut. The dark brown jockstrap looked at Bob's eyes and cocked his pouch. If Cotton wasn't a living piece of cloth right now, Bob would had thought his coach was grinning. "Hell...I'm fully clothformed now...I can't resist anymore...WEAR ME BOBBY!" "No fucking way!" Cried Bobby, but when he tried to run away the jockstrap catapulted into his head using his waistband like slingshot. "Listen to me, punk..." Said Cotton placing his blank pouch in front of Bob's face. "You got me all clothformed and horny saying you'll let me be your athletic supporter...I haven't been worn in years so you better let me hug your crotch real tight or I'll be really pissed with ya..." "No! That's freaking gay and- MMMF!" Bob protested until Cotton forced his pouch into his mouth and muffled his voice. Cotton's pouch tasted strange...At first it was like tasting a recently washed piece of cottony cloth, but then it began to get hard and getting a bitter aftertaste... Cotton pulled out soon after, though. "No! I can't come yet! Not until I've been worn!" Bob nearly puked when he realized that the tip of the pouch was still in some way or the other Cotton's penis. But he got even more alarmed when Cotton traveled down his chubby torso and got near his crotch. "Don't you dare touch my cock you sicko!" Bob cried out as he tried to get the crawling piece of living underwear off him, but Cotton's grip was too strong. Even though his arms looked like a slim circular waistband now, they still retained the strength of the giant biceps he showed off in human form. This got really apparent when Cotton got hold of Bob's pants and ripped them open in two with a big ripping sound. "Waaaaah! My pants!" "Hahahaha, nice whitey-tighties! They remind me of Bulge, one of the newest members in my werecloth clan, but he's a pussy who's scared of being worn..." "Bulge? Werecloth? Clan? The fuck is all that nonsense?! Just let me go home!" "We'll go home soon enough...Together!" It happened too fast, Cotton threw his waistband at Bob's crotch and yanked at his underwear with so much force it shredded off into pieces. "Ahhhh!" Apart from his sneakers and socks, Bob was now naked from the waist down. The jockstrap laughed with malice. "Hahahaha!!!...You call that dead shriveled worm a cock?" Bob's face flushed red with embarrassment. He cupped his genitals with his hands, but his coach used his waistband as a cowboy's lasso to make the boy fall down to the floor in his knees. The jockstrap's pouch was at eye-level with the boy once again. "What a shame, Bobby...Seems like you had a minor wardrobe malfunction...I could let you go home in this state...Or...You could just accept the inevitable and let me cover up your...'embarrassment'...hehehe." Bob had the sensation the jockstrap wouldn't stop coercing him into being worn in any case, so with tears in his eyes, he nodded. "Now that's a good boy. Just do what your underwear tells you and everything will go smoothly..."
***
Bob's teammates were about to go home when they saw their older companion running around the campus without pants. He was sweating like a pig. "Bob?! What the hell are you doing dressed up like that?!" They asked him, but the boy wouldn't stop to talk. "Sorry, my personal trainer made me go running all the way home with no pauses...*SMACK* AAAAAHH!" The boys looked flabbergasted how Bob passed by them and they all had a good look at his big hairy buttchecks bouncing up and down. The jockstrap looked a little loose...in fact, it seemed that his waistband was stretching itself to give him wedgies every time he slowed his pace. "Please, stop it! My bare ass is going to turn red!" Bob pleaded to his jockstrap. "Hahaha, would you rather have me twist your balls instead? And remember, you'll wear me 24/7...Except during practice, your teammates need their coach too! And their muscular check-ups! Teehee!" Bob didn't knew all the details yet about what that werecloth thing was all about, but he was completely sure of one thing he knew for certain: he hated his new jockstrap.