Wresting Team Gone Wild Ch. 03

A new coach with rather unorthodox methods is appointed to bring the University's wresting team back to the top. Unfortunately for straight hunk Scott, the path to victory involves turning him into the team's bitch.

The story, names, and places are entirely fictional. All characters featured are above 18. Enjoy.

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Wrestling Team Gone Wild

Chapter 3: The roster

"Come on boys, let's make this quick, this should not last more than one hour, we have two minutes of shooting per athlete. Once we're done with you, you can go shower. We'll start with the seniors."

There was a black drape against the wall and in front of the drape, professional lighting rings and a tripod had been set up. Francis the photographer was adjusting a few details while the Coach called out Harry Cooper.

"Last year pictures were boring, forgettable. Francis here usually shoots professional models for visuals in advertisement, he'll know how to get the best out of you. We are very lucky to have him." Robert de Portier explained.

The fact that we had the money to get a professional photographer but I could not get another singlet to fit my size was beyond me. Still, a part of me was excited to do a professional photoshoot.

Harry took place in front of the camera first. Pearls of sweat were still pouring down his wet blond hair. The photographer seemed happy with that.

"Let's try to get comfortable, right. Relax those arms. Don't try to force a smile or anything. Just act natural."

Harry was objectively a handsome man. He had this symmetric face of Hollywood actors paired with an impressive muscular physic. I must admit, the singlet was certainly the perfect attire to showcase his shape.

"Put your hand in your hair. Go for it, boy, loosen up. The ladies will love it!"

Harry played a bit awkwardly with his hair. He ended up relaxing a bit. Francis was taking a ton of shots in a row. I guess this was not that bad, a bit different from the pictures we would usually take but the previews looked good.

Last year, we had just taken turns in front of a camera, an old guy told us to smile and our portraits were shot.

"Now, show me how you feel when you've just won an important game!"

"I mean... I don't know... I'm happy."

Harry attempted a smile.

"Flex those big guns, show your opponent how you dominated him!"

This was a common pose for wrestlers, flexing their biceps. Harry did it, his armpits glistening with sweat.

Robert de Portier and Coach Ranson were both commenting on the side-lines.

"I think you could do with better lighting" suggested Robert, taking a look at the shots taken so far.

Francis, the photographer, did not seem to mind the intrusion in his work and play with the lighting to satisfy Robert's wishes. Depending on how the light was positioned, the white lycra fabric was almost completely see-through and we could get a full view of Harry's cock and balls. I don't think the photographer realized that or he would have eased up on the light.

With some more flexing, Harry's shoot was done.

Eli Gardener was next. Right away, he started flexing, he went as far as kissing his biceps. The photographer loved that.

"Turn around. Yeah. Let us see your back, now turn your face, only your face to look right at the camera. We'll continue to shoot you from behind. Yes. That's it. The camera loves you, boy."

Certainly, the love was mutual and Eli enjoyed every second of it. He played with the straps of his wresting singlet, put his two hands behind his head, he even sent kisses to the camera. I thought he was doing a bit too much but the staff seemed to love that.

Robert even grabbed his cell phone to take personal pictures. I could have sworn he was specifically aiming his phone towards Eli's (very visible) dick. When the photographer said: "nice ass", I thought Eli would react but he just seemed satisfied with being the centre of attention.

"Now, who can do better than that? Damian Feytons?"

Of course, Damian Feytons was more than ready to show off. He purposely spilled water on his chest before going in for the photoshoot, making the singlet even more translucid.

He went with his usual bodybuilder poses. This time, he was not naked, but the effect was pretty much the same with the wet singlet. As expected, Damian had to take it to another level, taking more and more lavish poses, winking at the camera, touching (wait, caressing?) his nipples.

"Yes, my boy! Keep on going. We'll get some good Insta posts out of this, we need some following on social media!"

Damian started howling "Awhooo" and taking even lewder poses, now showing off his glutes. He licked his biceps as if they were a hot girl's mouth. I had never met someone as narcissist and egotistic as he was.

"And that's our wolf!" Rejoiced Robert de Portier.

Before ending the shoot, Damian even removed his straps to fully expose his chest. He was naked from the waist down. As if the University were to post pictures like this on the official website. Pathetic.

Thankfully, the other guys were less enthusiastic and everyone sticked to the pretty basic flexing pictures after that. Again, I was called after Travis who seemed a bit unease in front of the camera.

"Scott Russel, your turn."

"Now this is another wrestler with a HUGE potential." Stated Coach Ranson as I was taking place.

"I can already tell!" The photographer smiled, looking directly at my crotch.

"Although, that was not the deal, this one has dried out..." He said, disappointed.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"We wanted you all sweaty from training but now... You are dried as a peanut."

"No problem, Francis, we can still make him wet! You, spray him."

Coach Ranson was talking to Travis.

Awkwardly, Travis took the available bottle of water and sprayed it on my pecs and face. We laughed it off. Frankly, I thought this was sillier than anything else.

"Come on, spray it everywhere, boy, don't be shy!"

The whole thing was getting ridiculous, I was a wrestler, not a swimmer. As Travis was getting the spray dangerously closed to my thighs and crotch, I finally said something.

"Come on guys, now I look like I just came out of a pool!"

Coach Ranson intervened:

"How many professional photoshoots have you done, Russel?"

"Well... I... I'm not a model."

"Right, so let the professionals do their job. Spray the boy, Lee!"

Travis did not look me in the eyes when he eventually drenched the entire singlet, making it translucid once again. I rolled my eyes.

I thought our mascot was a wolf, not a fish, but what the hell, I just wanted to be done with this shoot. I flexed, I kissed my right biceps as requested, I turned around so they could shoot my back, trying not to be too self-conscious about my fat ass, I did the V of victory with my hand. And finally, we were done with this comedy.

Robert de Portier was taking shots with his phone the whole time. I guessed he had a personal collection.

As the Freshmen were finishing the shooting, Coach Ranson came to Travis and I. I was cold and shaking a little because of the water. I was not in the mood.

"Russel, I see you are still struggling with your singlet but Doctor Peterson and Coach Daniel are both confident that you will lose the necessary weight. Have you taken notes of all of their advice?"

"Yes, Coach. I have."

"Good. Lee, we are all counting on you to make sure Russel remains on the right track. Also, it appears that wearing the singlet this last 24 hours has been helpful. After your shower, put it right back on Russel, actually, keep it on at all times for the next few days."

"Coach, this is really not comfortable."

He sighed.

"Precisely. This is why we still need to work on that. Your singlet should become your second skin. Look, you two are ones of our most promising athletes. If we are harsh on you, it's because we want to put you in the best conditions to win competitions. You are about to become big names in the wresting community and stars within this university, that requires some sacrifices."

Every time the Coach would show the tiny bit of recognition and approval, it gave me an immense feeling of accomplishment.

He did convince me.

That night and the days afterwards, I kept my singlet on. I guess the technic was working because it made me focused more than I ever on wrestling practices and achieving my weight goal. Wrestling was literally the only thing in my mind.

Basically, I would only take my singlet off in the shower where I would also jerk off and unload some of the pressure I was feeling.

The next training, we worked on reversals and take downs techniques. It was weird fighting commando as we would often grab each other penis or balls, but as with everything in life, we quickly got used to it. When I grabbed Damian's balls, he told me I should just tell him if I wanted to cop the field next time, but I did not care, I had pinned him down despite him being twice my size.

Coach Daniel asked me to do an additional training session with him on Fridays, just to "focus on my ass". (Again, those were his words.)

I was feeling a bit ashamed at first, needing to have additional one-on-one trainings, until Travis rightfully pointed out that the staff was investing time and energy on me and this was only because they thought I could bring great results to the team.

I thought Daniel was a great coach and living with Travis, I was always motivated to keep on with my work. His fit body with almost 0% fat was definitely a goal to achieve.

By the end of week one, I went through weigh-in again and I had already lost two pounds. 152 lbs. Only 3 pounds to go. The Coaches seemed quite happy with me and I could see that Damian Feytons was concerned about losing his rank as "star athlete" of the team.

The next Monday, the good news continued as I was woken up by a text of Tiffany, the girl I had been flirting with on and off for a few months.

It was just an emoji. The eggplant. Promising! Tiffany wanted some dick!

I responded with a question mark and the 3 drops of water emoji. I was so down for whatever she would propose.

The same day, I realized that I had a bunch of new followers on Instagram. Mostly guys though.

Only at lunch, I understood what was really going on.

"Scott, the roster is out on the University's website!" Said Travis, checking his mac computer in the University's cafeteria. "Man, you're going to want to see that!"

He showed me his screen, I was excited for a few seconds before my heart fell in my stomach.

"Fuck!"

I was featured on the home page of the official university's website. Right in the centre of a montage to present the wrestling team, alongside Damian on my left, Eli on my right, and Travis and Tom were on each extreme. "Here come the Wolves!" Said the caption with a link to the roster where everyone could see the team members' pictures and info.

It was a full body shot. In my wet and translucid white singlet. Fully exposed!

When I tell you that my dick was fully visible, I am not kidding! The other guys were positioned behind me on the montage and not so fully visible, but as I was, front and centre, one could see my entire body, in my see-through uniform with a lighting that totally exposed my balls and my dick. Every fucking inch of it!

I could not believe my eyes. How could they post something so obscene on the official website?! I had not realized it was that bad during the shoot or I would never have agreed to take such pictures.

People would address complaints for sure! Parents would see that! Teachers! Did the staff lose their minds?! My singlet was almost entirely translucid, glued to my skin. And I was there, flexing my biceps, kissing my right arm, like a freaking erotic playgirl shoot. On the montage, Damian was behind me, his hand behind his head, exposing his armpits. My face looked like it was ready to kiss it.

"I did not know you guys were doing gay porn now!" Joked one of my fellow sophomores, Victor, part of the water polo team. I wanted to bury myself in the grounds of the university at this point.

"Why would they publish this?" I was stunt.

"The better question is: why would you pose like that, dude? At least, open an Onlyfans, you'll get paid for that!" Victor was living for it.

"I did not pose like that... Well, I did... But this was not supposed to look... this way!"

I felt everyone was looking at me in the cafeteria. At my crotch, checking the goods in real life. Damn it, I was still wearing the stupid singlet underneath my clothes. I thought about my parents, what would they think?

"Let's take a look at the roster." Suggested Travis. "See, it's not that bad."

He clicked on his picture; It was still full body shots but the bulges were semi hidden on the official roster pictures. Mine was not too bad, we could see clearly my dick's outlines but it was not in full display. Normally, I would still have found the photographs from the roster a bit too revealing but compared to the montage on the front page, this was nothing.

"I need to talk to the Coach. Maybe even to the dean." I spoke.

"To tell them what?"

"To remove the picture! The first one, the one on the home page. I have image rights, I don't know. Probably the board of the school has not seen this pic, they would have removed it!"

Travis was sceptical but I had to do something.

I ran to the Coach's office on the other side of campus, letting my hot dog untouched on my plate.

Thankfully, the Coach was there when I knocked at his door. He was eating a sandwich.

"Russel? Come in."

"Hello, Coach. I am sorry to bother but needed to talk to you."

"What's the matter, boy?" He was chewing his ham and mayonnaise with his mouth wide open while talking to me.

"This is about the website and the roster, Coach."

"Oh yes! Great, right? We thought you would appreciate it, being featured as the star of the team. Try not to gloat too much in front of the others members though, they would not be too happy."

"Well, I do appreciate to be put forward but I..."

"But?" Coach Ranson seemed really surprised.

"It's just that the picture is really..." Oh God, this was so awkward. Could not he just see my point already? "It's really revealing."

"I'm not sure to follow."

"Everyone can see my dick!" I finally said, annoyed.

The Coach seemed taken aback by my language. But then, he just smiled.

"What the hell are you talking about, boy?"

"Have you not seen the picture on the front page? Have you not noticed?"

"Well, of course not, I have not noticed your dick. Who do you think I am? You think I am checking my athletes' genitals? What is wrong with you, Russel?"

"No, no! Of course, I don't think that. It's just, other people told me and I... Just go on the website Coach."

He put his sandwich aside and nodded his head.

He logged in to the website and there I was, on his screen, every detail of my anatomy on full display. You could see my balls, some of my hair, my uncut cock, the length, the girth...

"Oh... I see. Yeah, well, I guess white and wet are a deadly combination on lycra fabric." He laughed.

I tried to smile too, to make it less awkward.

"Yes... Do you think we can do something about it?"

"What do you mean, boy? From what I can see now that YOU made me look at them, your genitals seem perfectly fine. Better than fine actually. Nothing to be ashamed of."

I was more and more mortified.

"But everyone can see my..."

He laughed again.

"And I thought guys of your generation were always exposing themselves on social media. I did not realize you were such a prude, Russel! To be frank, I don't think anyone will notice and the website got great ratings since this morning, nobody said anything."

"But, Coach! You cannot be serious. I don't want everyone to see my... my genitals! And the dean or the board will never accept this. I think the team could be in trouble."

Now he was no longer smiling. He was getting clearly annoyed and I realized I may have gone too strong.

"Everything that is posted on the website is moderated first. Look, it feels you are making a mountain out of a molehill, Russel. All the other guys are featured in the same singlet, in the same way and nobody else complained. We were doing you a huge favour highlighting you this way, I must say that I am quite disappointed by your reaction."

"It's not that. It's just, I checked the other ones, their bulges are way less exposed."

The Coach thought it was time to have his dessert. He took a banana out of a plastic bag. While he was peeling it, he looked at me with suspicious eyes.

"Wait. What are you telling me exactly? You have been checking your teammates bulges and crotches on the website?"

"No... That's not what I meant."

"But that what's you said, right? You checked the other ones."

"Just to see if the pictures were showing off as much as mine."

He put the banana in his mouth.

"May I ask you a personal question, Russel?"

"Yes..."

"Are you gay?"

I became red instantly. This was going even worse than I had anticipated.

"What?"

"Are you a homosexual? You are free not to answer but..."

"No! I'm not gay!"

"Ok, ok. Calm down, Scott. It's just all this talk about your own genitals, and checking the dicks of your teammates, asking me to check you out. I mean, except from you, nobody else from the team seemed to have noticed the crotches on the pictures. I guessed we were all looking at those pictures differently than you were."

I was speechless.

"I was not looking... It's just that other people pointed out to me, that, well... what I told you... That my penis was showing. I'm sorry, it makes me unease, that's it."

The coach almost swallowed the entire banana in one go, masticated it and then sighed heavily.

"Take off your clothes." He spoke.

"What?"

"Take off your clothes."

"Coach... Why?"

"Son, if you want to stay in the team, you will have to learn not to question your Coach and to follow commands! In twenty years, I have never seen such stubbornness. If you were not as good as you are, I would have already kicked you off of the Wolves. Now, remove your clothes."

This was the time where I should have run away. I know that I should have. But at this instant, I could not move. I could not oppose him further. I had already pushed all of my instincts fighting to get the picture removed.

I took off my clothes in the Coach's office until I was back in just my singlet. At least, he could see I was following his instructions, keeping the singlet on at all time.

Coach Ranson stood up. He was still wearing the same tiny blue nylon short.

"I think it is time we take care of this problem of yours."

"What problem, Coach?"

"You are obviously uncomfortable with your body and this is not ok. A thriving boy your age should own up to what he is. I have noticed several times already you were trying to cover yourself, putting underwear under your singlet, being reluctant to get naked in the locker rooms. This is not healthy. An athlete needs to be confident with himself and his body. You have to stop being so self-aware."

I looked at the floor.

"See, uncomfortable! What's the problem here? Is that that I'm looking at you? The crotch seemed to be a sensitive area for you, is it not ok for you when I look at it?"

"Everyone is uncomfortable when we checked their genitals" I mumbled.

"Look at me, Russel. Look at my shorts, do I seem uncomfortable?"

"No, Coach..."

"Oh god, you're sweating, you're red... Just wearing the singlet in my office. You're torturing yourself over a candid picture. This is actually worse than I thought!"

"I'm sorry, Coach, I guess I do have some insecurities."

"What are those? Talk to me Scott. It's just you and I and you know that I'm here to help you."