Wresting Team Gone Wild Ch. 25

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.

Please be aware that this story involves a lot of manipulation elements (straight to gay). The story, names, and places are entirely fictional. All characters featured are above 18. Enjoy!

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Wrestling Team Gone Wild

Chapter 25: Eddy

I lost my first match of the season.

It was bound to happen at some point but, as I was carefully following all instructions from Coach Ranson and the staff, I thought I would be able to avoid that.

Surely, I was delusional. No athlete can win every single one of their games for an entire year, but failing was simply not an option in my mind. I was not conditioned to fail.

I did fail though.

To be fair, that competition went very badly from the start.

Before we even hopped in the bus which would drive us there, I was feeling on edge. The Head Coach unlocked the metal cage and freed my abnormally long cock. I had played with my nipples in the shower that morning so I thought I would be able to control myself and my erection for a while... Turned out I was dead wrong!

When the cage was lifted from my elephant sized dick, damn it, the whole thing rose like a fucking bouncy castle! My shaft became hard in a matter of seconds, poking against Coach Ranson's face (the poor guy!) who was putting the cage's tiny key back in one of his pockets.

Instantly, I knew that any hope of self-control was pointless.

Maybe I should first clarify that I did go to a shower stall that morning but only to caress, squeeze and pinch my nipples in peace. The Coach was very clear about me not showering, or not cleaning myself at all, before the competitions. He wanted me to be as raw as possible.

I only went to the stall to hide myself from Victor and the other guys of the dorm while I was pleasuring myself.

This desire for privacy might seem a little strange since my roommate was beating his meat in my presence all the times, and often, he was literally stroking on me, but I thought that nipples play was a too gay and a too weird thing to do with someone else in the room.

Funny saying that when In the first hour of the morning, my roommate had made me suck his dick. He woke up with his usual morning wood and was stroking himself in his bed, lying naked above the covers.

He needed some release and I could always use some fresh cum to provide me with some energy and proteins, especially before a big competition. I deepthroated his cock and I swallowed most of his loads. It was already a daily occurrence at this point anyway.

Apparently, I did not catch it all in my mouth. There was some of Victor's cum left on my right cheek but even this, I did not wipe off. I knew that the Head Coach would appreciate it being there to throw my opponents off some more.

Anyway, I got out of the shower stall as dirty as I was getting in, but feeling a bit more relaxed after playing with my sensitive nipples. I foolishly thought it would help me gain some more self-control throughout the day...

Wishful thinking.

In theory, being hard on the mat during competitions was very much encouraged and cumming on my opponents was the only time where ejaculation was tolerated.

However, with that huge dick suddenly free after multiple weeks in the cage and pulsating, I felt like I had just gotten a new limb attached on my crotch, or that I was sharing my body with another living and breathing creature. It was quite disturbing.

I no longer knew how to live with that monstruous thing moving against my abs, rising to incredible length, begging to explode, and leaking tons of precum without barely any interruption.

I missed the cage!

Even the Coach seemed surprised by my dick's reaction. It was really on another level.

See, I am referring to my dick's reaction, as if that thing had a mind on its own! There was me, and then, there was "Elephant sized Dick".

I was on edge all the way towards the competition and every little bump in the bus (damn, the bumps in the roads!) made me release ounces of precum in my underwear. Damian and Eli had a good laugh every time it happened, the slime passing through my sweatpants, my bulge being quite obscene, forming a gigantic tent.

Personally, I was not in a mood to laugh.

If the previous weeks had been difficult and confusing, what I was experiencing at this stage was extending way beyond that. Without my cage on, it was like I had lost all control over my thoughts' process. Elephant Sized Dick was taking all of my mental space.

I even named it in my mind. Elephant Dick became E.D. which, after a while, became Eddy.

Things only got worse when we changed into our singlets in the locker-room and during the weigh-in.

I was leaking so much precum everywhere that Amir seriously asked me if I was not just pissing at that point. I swore to him that it was not piss (I had only pissed on myself one time!). Or rather, I mumbled an incoherent response. I did not have enough blood flow in my brain to have a normal conversation with anyone.

Eddy was taking everything from me and wanted all the attention. All I could do was focusing on not cumming right there, in the middle of the room, without even touching myself.

Travis was there, also preparing for the competition, and his presence threw me off even more. While he was changing, he looked at me with a stupid concerned look on his face as if I needed his help or something. He had betrayed me! I did not want to have anything to do with him.

I almost begged the Coach to cage me again during the competition, simply because I did not know how to deal with Eddy.

Coach Ranson said that I was not allowed to wear any jewellery on the mat and a chastity cage was considered as such. Fuck! I was all over the place and not at all in my normal "focused beast mode" before competing.

In this context, what was meant to happen, happened.

My first match was against a fierce Eagles' junior student. A black guy with thick black hair all over his body, - his armpits looked like a rain forest -, he was barely 20 years old but he could have been mistaken for a 30 years old man. He was still rather slim which explained why he was fighting within my weight class.

People were shouting "Cum Stick" in the crowd, I was still the audience's favourite.

My opponent was sporting a flaccid cock under his singlet, which was now a rare occurrence during competitions, (most athletes were hard throughout the competition), but he was not afraid of feeling me up.

Part of his grabbing and touching was quite classic wrestling moves -- let's be real, even before that crazy season, the sport had always been pretty "hands on" -, but part of it was also that he took every occasion to feel and even stroke my humongous cock.

The guy did not seem to give a single fuck about my singlet recking cum or that it presented huge stains of fresh precum. He wanted to make me lose my mind, to throw me off... and he was succeeding! To be fair, he did not have to do much.

See, the problem was that it was not just the two of us on the mat that day. We were three, Eddy was a full participant to the match and had his own ambitions: Cumming, as hard as he possibly could.

I was meant to wait for later in the competition to ejaculate, ideally during my last match. The strategy was to keep me in a high state of horniness and aggressiveness throughout the matches before the big finish.

But that time, less than one minute in the course of my first fight, after another stroke of my opponent, my dick exploded and I, or rather Eddy, released volleys after volleys of cum.

I felt the usual dizziness but for the first time in my life, I did not feel any pleasure from cumming. Eddy was spurting loads and loads of spunk and I hated it, I did not want to cum, I had not been authorized to do so by my Head Coach! The guilt was taking all of my brain space.

I was mad at me, mad at the world, but above all, mad at Eddy.

Yeap, I was becoming truly insane!

The other athlete kept on wrestling right in the middle of my orgasm. He had his fat black ass pushed against my face as I was experiencing spasms and filling my singlet with what felt like gallons of sperm.

I barely remember anything afterwards except from painfully standing up as my opponent was having his fist raised in the air by the referee.

He had one fair and square and I had lost my first match of the season.

The despair that I felt at that moment is merely impossible to describe. It was like my whole life had been ruined, that everything I had done thus far had been meaningless. Who was I if I was not the guy with the perfect victories' strike?

The Eagles' athlete who had beaten was not even that good. He had no chance to win the championship but he got me. That could only mean that I was a worthless piece of shit. Right? I had let Eddy ruin everything.

I went back to one of the locker-rooms with my mind filled with dark thoughts. Thankfully, the place was empty. I had no idea what to do. I punched a wall to release some pressure and only hurt myself in the process. Dumb move. I did not even feel like crying, I was numb.

Coach Ranson came to save me. I did not hear him coming but suddenly, like a super hero in a Marvel movie, he was right behind me.

"Look at me, Scott."

I turned around, ashamed and shaky.

"Coach, I... I'm sorry.... I was not in the game; it was like my dick had a mind of his own... I don't think the cage was a good idea, now, I'm totally..."

He slapped me hard across the face. That shut me up.

"This is no time for self-pity or whining, Scott. As usual, you are over-thinking it! That's why you cannot focus on the mat."

I nodded yes.

The Head Coach grabbed my head between his hands and got his own face two inches from me. It almost felt like he was about to French kiss me, his breathe smelt like coffee. Coach Ranson terrified me but he was also the only person that I could trust. He knew everything about me, my flaws, my insecurities, he had brought me to the top and I had disappointed him, once again.

"Coach... I lost. We don't have our winning strike anymore."

He looked at me with such an intensity that it gave me chills.

"Listen to me, boy. What you are living is a defining moment, right here. A moment where everything you have worked for can either collapse under your feet, or where you can show to the world what you are made of. You are still far ahead in the championship. Either you will show resilience and win the entire thing or you will show cowardness and you will let us all down."

Again, I nodded yes. I would truly have done anything to deserve that man's respect.

"Scott, we know how to make you win matches so we are going to do exactly that." Coach Ranson let go of my head. "I'm taking care of everything, you, you do exactly what I say, and most of all, you do not think! Is that clear?"

"Yes, Coach."

"Fine. Sit there, in this corner, I'll be back in a few minutes. If someone comes in, don't move. I'll try to have this place for ourselves." He stopped before going out and added: "Russel, never forget the virtue of obedience."

I sat down in the corner as I was told.

Because it was the Head Coach's instruction, I simply shut my brain. In a way, it was so comfortable not feeling that distress anymore. Feeling nothing was exactly what I needed in that moment.

The Coach came back as promised but he was not alone.

His assistant, Coach Daniel, and Doctor Peterson were there but I was surprised to see them with Francis and Robert de Portier. Francis was filming. Maybe if I had been authorized to think, I would have asked why.

"Ok, Scott. This was my mistake." Coach Ranson started. "I should not have let you go on the mat like this. We gave an opportunity for the other athlete to touch and distract you, and as it was predictable, you lost. It was a poor choice on my part."

"But Coach, he had to touch me, we are wrestling..."

Coach Ranson slapped me again. Harder than the first time. I swallowed my saliva. Robert de Portier made a little sound, between gasping and moaning.

"What did I tell you about thinking, Russel? Fuck! Cannot you follow simple instructions and shut the hell up?"

"I... I'm sorry."

"During the last competition, you were so filled with piss and cum that not a single athlete dared to really go after you. That was the only thing that got you to victory!"

"The only thing...?"

"You know those guys are better at wrestling than you are, their physic is better, their technique is better, but you are the best when it comes to how far you are willing to go to win a game. You are the cum-stick, you are the inventor of the hose technique! You're not afraid of degrading yourself to score a point! Fuck, Scotty, that's what make you a freaking star!"

I nodded yes. The Coach was so right. I had never been the best when it comes to actually fight. I may have been a fraud. But I was so committed to do everything to win that it helped me reaching this status of College Wrestling's Star.

The Head Coach grabbed and pulled my hair to get my full attention back. He already had it but I remained silent.

Making sure I would understand and make mine every of his words, he slowly said:

"Clearly, we need to cover and fill you with cum until you are so fucking disgusting than not a single athlete would dare to come near you. It is time to really turn you into the Cum Stick you claim to be and that, my boy, will be your path to greatness."

He let go of my hair and for the third time, I nodded yes.

"Gentlemen, I believe it is time we all take one for the team." The Head Coach declared to the others members of the staff, pulling down his nylon shorts, revealing his already hard and leaking cock.

Leo Peterson and Robert de Portier opened their respective flies on my right, Daniel who was standing on my left did not budge.

"Daniel, go on." Ranson scolded his assistant Coach. "The boy can blow you if you cannot get hard by yourself."

Daniel slowly slid down his sweat pants and presented his limp, but still fat, uncut cock. I instinctively knelt down and leaned towards it. I put his dick in my mouth in one go, even reaching the balls with my tongue. It was warm. Getting him in the mood, it was the least I could do.

"Yeah, make that dick hard, we'll get you some alpha juice." Francis commented on the side, he had no difficulty maintaining a strong erection, jacking off near my mouth full.

I wondered again why he was filming. But I chased that thought. I was not authorized to think.

It was much easier just to follow instructions to lick and suck Daniel's dick. I was doing a good job, the Assistant Coach was finally getting hard in my throat. I was proud.

I licked the edge of his dick before sucking the whole thing. It was less hairy than the Head Coach's or even Damian's. Would I dare say that it tasted good?

The staff formed a circle around me and I went from one dick to the other, ended up blowing each of their cocks. Robert was moaning in a weird high-pitched voice but I did not let that disturb me. Peterson was calling me a fag every 30 seconds.

But I kept going. Coach had told me so.

"You've gotten so much better at this." The Head Coach praised. "Come on, give us your best shot my boy, we don't have much time, only a few minutes and you will be called for your next match. We need to cum all over you, you have to help us."

I deepthroated him and gagged, a lot. It usually worked to get men cumming. My dick was getting hard again, probably the proof that I was regaining energy. Maybe the proof that I was gay... Just like everyone else had told me before.

Wait no, Eddy was the one getting hard, not me! Eddy was the gay one! (When I told you I was becoming mad!)

"Fucking cum dump." Francis mumbled while rubbing his dick all over my eyes. I was sucking Robert's smaller cock at that moment.

The photographer was the first one to jizz and he sprayed my entire face. I would say at least five big loads and he squeezed the last drops directly on my lips. I was not supposed to swallow the cum, - of course, I could still ingest a few drops -, but this whole procedure was mostly for the show. I needed to be dripping with cum before my next match in order to recreate the conditions of my victory against Travis.

Robert de Portier followed suit and covered my face as well. He screamed like a little girl when he reached orgasm and he aimed poorly. Thankfully, I had enough of his cum on my cheeks and the rest fell on my translucent singlet.

Daniel Peterson jizzed as well, emptying his balls on my hair.

Daniel and Coach Ranson kept on stroking for a few minutes before they were ready to cum.

I did my best to help them, alternating between their two thick cocks in my mouth. The two men looked quite similar, like a father and son duo. The Head Coach had his hand around his assistant's shoulders, whispering words of encouragement in his ear. Daniel had his eyes closed for most of the time.

The Head Coach seemed to be ready to cum for quite a while but as I had learnt before, he had full control over his orgasms. He was patiently waiting for Daniel to jizz before him. He even guided my face towards his assistant's cock so I knew where to put my focus.

My jaw started to ache.

Daniel cummed while Coach Ranson was grabbing my hair and pushing me deeper into Daniel's meat. My nose was squashed against his lower abs. The guy had a defined 8 packs we were all jealous of.

The warm loads of sperm were released in my throat as I was swallowing Daniel's entire shaft. What a crazy feeling it was, this dick which was once soft, now throbbing and exploding inside of me. Success!

"SPIT THAT BACK!" The Coach yelled.

Fuck! Daniel was not supposed to cum in me but on me! I did spit most of it out. The slime fell on my singlet and dripped from my chin.

"FUCK YEAH! That's my dirty boy" The Head Coach exclaimed.

And finally, he cummed as well, his thick cum achieving to cover my entire face. His dick was the largest of the four, his balls wear heavy and full before his orgasm.

Without any surprise, his ejaculation was by far the biggest of the staff. By the end of it, I was literally drenched.

Mission accomplished: I felt filthier than ever. I was ready to go on the mat.

But it was not over. Actually, it was only the beginning of a very long day.

"Cum is only part of it, boy. Last time, you had pissed all over yourself, like a freaking pig. Do that as well." The Coach commanded.

Daniel's eyes widened in shock. He was holding his large dick, softening up in his hand.

I tried to piss. I really did. But my dick was only leaking precum. Eddy really was not a helpful companion!

"I'm sorry, Coach. I'm trying, I think I can't..."

He slapped me for the third time. Each time, the slap was getting harder and that time, my face almost hit a wall. Although that time, a few layers of cum got thrown out on the wall. Robert de Portier gasped again. He even took a few steps back.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU, RUSSEL!? You lost your fucking match, that means that you have lost your fucking rights to think! Jesus. We really have to do everything ourselves."

The Head Coach pushed the other members of the staff away, Francis moved back but still held his camera firmly. And then, Coach Ranson started to piss on me. Yellow warm piss was hitting my face, my eyes, my mouth, my singlet.

Thankfully, I was no longer thinking or I would have probably been disgusted by this. I was just feeling numb. I could not lose another match. The stakes were too high. No matter the cost, I had to turn into that wrestling beast again.