Wresting Team Gone Wild Ch. 07

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 7: Cumming first

As we were approaching the first main event of the season, the team seemed very stressed and the trainings got even more intense. The staff was relentless with us and Coach Ranson did not let us think about anything else than winning our matches.

Apparently, the publicity made on Instagram with various pictures of the members of the Wolves team got us to sell a lot of tickets. The arena would be full and we all wanted to be at the top of our games.

I did receive some messages on Insta, only from guys though, asking me for dirty pics for money. As if I would ever do something like that! Even though I would admit that I desperately needed the money, being broke as fuck.

I realized that my picture on the university's roster had gotten quite attention, as well as the pictures used on the official team's social medias. Robert de Portier was not shy about showing us off. I was featured alone on the latest Instagram post, kissing my biceps in my white and almost translucid singlet with a caption that said: "GET READY FOR THE HOTTEST COMPETITION OF THE YEAR!".

Ninety percent of the comments were featuring the eggplant emoji. It did not even cross my mind to complain about it.

I did receive special attention from the coaches. All of them were telling me it was my time to shine. My teammates got more and more resentful and right before the big day, I even felt some tension with Travis. I did beat him a couple of times that week and we were fighting in the same category. We should not compete against one another during the competition though.

I think that the nerves we were feeling were also directly linked to the fact we were forbidden to cum. Travis and I kind of unconsciously, or maybe consciously, made sure that the other one would not break the rule. I was pissed though. All of them had the chance to cum the evening the rule was formally instated, some of them even jizzed on me (!), but I was refraining myself for almost two weeks.

Needless to say, I was waking up with crazy hard-ons each morning and the smallest thing would get me going. I was also starting to precum a lot, all the time. Coach Ranson and Doctor Peterson kept on telling us it was exactly the state of mind they wanted us to be in, right before a competition: full of testosterones, angry and on the edge.

For sure, it was working.

On the morning of the competition, Travis and I both woke up with our morning woods and we laughed about it. Finally, we were releasing some tension. We both thought that the day ahead would be determining. Whether our efforts would pay and the feeling of accomplishment would be amazing, or it would have been all for nothing and we would probably leave the team.

To be fair, we were also anxiously waiting for the end of the competition to "empty our balls" (to quote Travis).

When we arrived at the arena, the staff welcomed us and explained the rules of this particular competition. We were already familiar with them. The 4 main universities of the state would compete against one another, each wrestler would compete in either 2, 3 or 4 matches depending on his number of wins.

The atmosphere in the arena was electric and all the wrestlers got to change into a huge locker-room.

No need to worry about the level of testosterones there, it must have been at an all-time high! We were supposed to get through the weigh-in process in a small office right next to the locker room and communal showers.

I nervously changed into my tight white singlet, getting ready for my first match. For the first time, everyone would see me in my gear. Since I had been through so much worse in terms of exposing my body, I did not think too much about my ass getting out of the singlet or my dick forming a huge bulge on the front. As per the coach instructions and contrary to most of the other teams, we were not wearing any underwear underneath.

All the other athletes seemed focused, in their "beast mode". I was trying to figure who would compete in my category.

A huge bald guy named Strafer had to do his weigh in in the nude so he could compete with me in the 149 lbs. He was smooth literally from head to toe, he had no pubes, or armpit or leg hair, and he had a snake tattoo going from his calves to his upper thighs. I was a bit worried when the scale showed exactly 149 lbs.

I was weighing 148 lbs myself thanks to my strict diet and trainings. I did not even have to remove my singlet for the weigh in. Daniel seemed proud of me. I was too.

Thankfully, Strafer was not my first opponent.

I had already fought with the black guy I had been randomly picked to compete against first and I had won over him the previous year. I had reasons to be confident.

When I walked on the mat for the first time, I heard huge applause but also some hissing and whistling, the kind of stuff you usually hear when a hot girl walks down a street. It made me self-conscious again.

I did hear two women (probably moms of athletes) complaining a few minutes before:

"Have you seen the obscene gears that the wolves' team is wearing this year?",

"How could have I missed it? Those college teams are willing to do anything to get noticed! This is a sport event, not a pornographic convention for gay men, simply indecent!"

Somehow, I got used to the singlets we were wearing but I remembered feeling the exact same way when I was first presented with the outfit. My opponent did look at my bulge as I walked towards him to get into the "referee's position".

I would have to start in the bottom position, my hands spread out, while my opponent would position himself behind me.

I tried to get in the zone. I had to win this match.

I heard Coach Daniel yelled:

"You got this, Russel!"

And the match started.

I was surprised at first, I may have made progress on my techniques but my opponent had trained a lot too. He was quick and pinned me down to the mat in the first ten seconds of the match. Thankfully, I managed to escape his grip and to get the upper hand.

The match was harder than I expected but I also took a lot more pleasure than I was anticipated. Being on this mat, knowing what I had to do to win, dominating my opponent until he would crack, that was what I fucking loved!

A couple times, he scored, but overall, I had the advantage. When we ended up the match, his face was basically under my ass, unable to breathe. I had him. I won.

The referee held my hand in the air and Coach Ranson immediately went to spread me with water. I was so over the moon that I did not even realize he was making my singlet see-through. He hugged me and slapped my ass.

"See how that enormous ass is an asset now! You have smothered this little fag underneath it!" He whispered in my ear. This was exhilarating.

Coach Alberto was overseeing the bigger guys on the other side of the arena and was congratulating Damian Feytons on his own victory but when he passed by me, he also slapped my ass.

"That's my boy!" He spoke.

Alberto was ecstatic, the team results were incomparable to the previous year. Literally everyone from the Wolves won their first match. In the locker-room, the whole team was hysterical but Coach Ranson urged us to stay focus.

Before my second match, he took me aside.

"Drink that, Scotty." He had a goblet in his hand with a weird green mixture and white spots in it. It looked gross.

"What's that, Coach?"

"Just drink, idiot!"

It was disgusting but I obliged. Nobody says no to Coach Ranson. A few minutes later, I was ready for my next opponent.

This time, there was no doubt. I owned him from start to finish, the guy was smaller than me and was losing control. I took advantage of it. My opponent made a lot of mistakes and in less than two minutes, it was over. I got out the mat, sweating but euphoric.

I realized that Travis had lost his game, as well as Cory. I was not too sure about the rest of the team, but Damian, Harry and Eli were gloating so they must have been victorious.

I tried to talk to Travis to cheer him up but he was too pissed.

After the first two matches, we were supposed to have an hour to ourselves and rest but Coach Ranson had made sure that Daniel would keep us on our toes. He gave me more of the drink I got earlier and I noticed no one else got proposed some. I did not point it out though, the rest of the team was already frustrated enough with the special attention I was receiving.

I was getting really excited for the next match. In all sense of the words.

Was it the adrenaline, the arousal I was feeling for days now, the applause from the audience, the victories? I could not tell but I felt my dick twitching at several occasions and getting semi hard. This was becoming a real issue and I felt the urge to jerk-off.

I did not do anything about it of course, my state of trance was exactly where I needed to be to win.

I was like a wolf ready to howl and to bite my opponent when my third match began.

Although that time, it was not that easy. For the first time that day, I was losing my focus, my opponent was very strong and blocked every single of my move. I could not get a grip of him, he kept slipping through my fingers. I felt he was wearing a jockstrap but I just could not find a way to block him.

At some point, he was over me and managed to pin me down to score some points. When he was done, my singlet was totally up my ass and I knew that on the front, my balls were about to slip out. I managed to rearrange myself but I was destabilized. The rubbing and touching had also got me semi-hard and it was showing.

Fuck.

Wrestlers would sometimes get hard during a fight, this is quite common actually, but that singlet and my donkey dick were a deadly combination for sporting an erection. I needed to focus.

The match continued and while I was on top of my sweaty opponent, I felt my dick lodging in his crack. He felt it and at that moment, he was the one being destabilized. This split second was sufficient for me to take back control. I scored some points. I saw Coach Ranson overjoyed on the side-lines.

A few seconds later, as my opponent was trying to hold me, he grabbed on my dick, I have to admit my stiffed cock was taking a lot of space now so he could not really avoid it. He pressed it and I felt it getting even harder, rubbing against the fabric of my singlet. I could have cummed, I was so horny lately.

When my opponent let go of my dick to try and find another grip, I turned around and stuck his head between my thighs. I hate to say it but getting him there got me so much hornier. I could feel the monster waking up in my singlet. After feeling like such a submissive for weeks, finally, I had some power!

I could chock this guy between my muscular thighs. Make him feel my strong glutes I has worked so hard on. I was sure Daniel was so proud watching me.

It was close but when the referee held my hand in the air, I understood that I had won. I had fucking won my third match in a row!

The referee's eyes opened wide when they stopped on my crotch. I looked at my bulge, my hard dick was fully deployed and worst of all, everyone could see stains of precum at the top of my dickhead. My crazy 9+ inches of meat were becoming the main attraction in the arena, some girls cheered in the audience.

A hard on was nothing too weird after a wrestling match but this was definitely not up to the code. Robert de Portier was there, filming everything, he wanted to capture every detail, including my anatomy. Suddenly, I was embarrassed again. People were not talking about the game, they were whispering or giggling about that enormous penis.

"That one definitely loved rubbing his dick on another guy!" I heard.

Despite my efforts, I could not calm down and go flaccid, my dick was like an untameable animal. It moved beyond my control. Finally, I got to escape the arena and ran into the locker-room. Not only that I wanted to hide, I also had a very clear goal in mind: I needed to cum, fast.

I felt like I was literally leaking out cum at this point, it was getting through my singlet and dripping on my thigh. In the locker-room, Damian was there, naked and defeated. He had just lost his match. Coach Alberto was sitting next to him, recomforting and motivating him, there was still a chance he would compete in the last match.

They both looked at me and my obvious hard on when I walked in.

"What the hell, Russel?" Alfredo exclaimed, bewildered by my state.

"Jeez, how much of a homo you must be to get this hard during a match!"

"Feytons! Language!" Scolded Alberto.

I gave Damian my middle finger.

"At least, I'm winning my matches." I snapped back.

Damian, stark naked, got up in a micro second, ran up to me and he would have punched me right across the face if Alberto had not hold him back.

Coach Ranson entered the locker-room at that exact moment.

"What do you think you are doing here?" Ranson pushed aside Damian, slapping him under the head. "Attacking my number 1 athlete!"

"He started it!" Yelled Damian.

"You were both being ridiculous." Stated Alberto, trying to remain fair.

"Feytons, for once in your life, put some clothes on, you're up for the next match! Russel, you can be the number 1 in your class weight today so stop the non-sense. Only Strafer and yourself won their first three matches. You will face him in 40 minutes, you got him."

Feytons reluctantly put his singlet back on and got out, followed by Alberto. The Head Coach looked at my crotch. How the hell was I still hard after this incident?

"Coach, I... I have to cum or I will not be able to compete in the next match."

I was surprised by my own honesty there but it was a time of crisis and I had to be upfront. I would not be able to fight in this state.

"What are you talking about, Russel?"

"Coach, I can no longer focus, and everyone is staring at..."

He slapped me right across my face. It was the first time ever. It would not be the last.

"RUSSEL! WOULD YOU FUCKING STOP WITH YOUR INSECURITIES?!"

The Coach was beyond himself, furious.

"EVERYONE IS STARING OF YOU! CAN YOU HEAR YOURSELF? OF COURSE, THEY ARE STARING! YOU ARE THE BEST OF THEM ALL! YOU JUST DESTROYED THREE ATHLETES AND YOU ARE ABOUT TO RANK FIRST IN THE CHAMPIONSHIP."

I was so afraid I sat down on a bench, shaking. The Coach paced around to get back his composure.

"Look Scott, do you trust me?"

He said in a much calmer voice, kneeling to be at my eyes level.

"Of course, Coach. I owe you this."

"Now, a real athlete does not care about how he looks, about his dick, about his ass. A real athlete is focused on one thing, and one thing only: winning."

"Yes, Coach."

"And that cum who is filling your balls right now and dripping from your cock, this is your man juice."

He grabbed my balls. I opened my eyes widely.

"This is what makes you a man, and this is why men are always better than women. We are driven by our fucking semen, right in these balls."

He squeezed harder.

"You lose that, you lose your power."

He finally released his grip. I was still freaking hard. At this point I realized I would have to present myself on the mat in this state. The Coach would not leave me any choice.

"Drink another sip of that, boy. Only testosterones and proteins in there!"

Again, I drank the weird and disgusting substance from a goblet and then, it was my turn to pace around, waiting for my turn.

I tried to think of some sad stuff for my dick to go down but there was nothing I could do about it. I was fucking hard and ready to burst. Ranson was overseeing every of my move though, pushing me to go all in on my next opponent, the bald guy I was so worried about that same morning.

Right before I went on the mat, I ran into Travis. He seemed exhausted but he had done pretty well on his last match. He looked at me, perplex.

"Scott... You..."

My singlet was stained with precum at this point and my stiffed dick was almost completely see-through.

"Stop looking at it, Travis. It's bad enough as it is." I mumbled.

"But Scott, you cannot go fight like this. That's just crazy!"

"What do you want me to do? I'm staying in my zone, dude, BEAST MODE."

"Scott, I'm serious, you look like a gay Pornstar about to fuck someone!"

"Thanks a lot for your support, mate!" I said ironically.

"Dude, I support you, I want you to do well but man, that's just too much. This is a public arena. I'm not even sure they will let you compete like this, you litteraly look like you are about to burst a nut!"

"You'd like that don't you?"

"What?"

"That I don't compete in my last game. I would not steal your spotlight then!"

"This has nothing to do with that! You think I'm jealous?"

"Exactly." I grunted.

He laughed cynically.

"If you say so, dude. I'd rather have my dignity than this win, at least, I know I'm not a fag getting horned up by touching other guys!"

I almost came at him but I was called in the arena for my fight. We had never had an argument like this with Travis. The pressure was getting to us.

Alberto and Daniel were unease when they saw me entering the arena with my enormous dick hard, for the whole audience to see, but Coach Ranson and Robert de Portier were applauding loudly.

My match against Strafer was the last one of that day and the entire arena went silent when I presented myself on the mat.

I just have to own it, I thought to myself. Nobody would care about a hard on if I ended up winning!

Strafer came in, he did take a quick glance at my crotch (it was the elephant in the room) but he did not look very impressed. He even flexed his muscles for the crowd. He was confident. We put ourselves in the referee position and the craziest match of my life began. From the start, the contact was intense and almost animalistic.

Strafer did not care about grabbing my huge throbbing cock or my ass if that could help him get ahead. I did exactly the same. He was wearing a yellow singlet and at some point, I could not say how, my hand was literally inside of his singlet -- he was not wearing any underwear - and the referee had to stop the game. But Strafer was doing the same to me.

There were a lot of faults, a lot of grunting and the crowd was going wild.

Even my vision was getting blurry, I was not really there. Somehow, I was not fighting this guy. Somehow, we were just touching and grabbing each other. I swore he licked my neck at some point but I could not tell what was real and what was in my imagination.

He was winning though, in this hell of a game, he was scoring points.

I had to get back to myself. As he grabbed my dick one more time, I felt some more precum coming out and dripping. It cost me a lot but I ended up pinning him down, I was over him. He kept on moving though, he was like a bar of soap, trying to escape my hold. To maintain my position, I had to follow him, to mimic his moves while I was on top of him.

For a few seconds, we found some sort of rhythm. I was pressed against him; my dick was all over his right leg. My singlet was so thin, I felt like I was against his skin. It was like my dick was touching his snake tattoo. Damn, I was so fucking hard!

I locked him for a few seconds but then, he pushed his upper thigh against my cock, I closed my eyes. To get away from me, he moved his thigh up and down. The fucking snake on his leg was alive. Mine too. Suddenly, the world stopped moving around me. The rubbing. The humping. He was jacking me off without realizing it.