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.
