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 30: The ultimate test
I did not sleep more than a few minutes that night. Damian fucking me, Victor trying to kiss me, the competition to come. And above all, my freaking identity crisis kept me up all night. Was I really gay? Did I just come out? How the world could keep on spinning while this was all happening?
The next morning, I was probably in the worst state to compete but I still hopped on the bus with the rest of the team.
Wrestling had to remain my number one priority. All I had done so far was in the name of the sport, I could not give up now.
I carefully avoided Damian, - who had not said a word to me since we had fucked - and went to sit next to Cory while Daniel was giving us a motivation speech. Usual before our competitions.
"You have a weird face, man. All good?" Cory asked.
"All good." I replied sternly.
I was glad that he did not ask me to jerk him off in the bus. I was not in the mood. Cory and the other Wolves probably wanted to save their cum for the competition anyway. I did not have to blow any of their cocks that morning.
The Head-Coach removed my chastity cage while we were in the locker-room, just a few minutes before the weigh-in. He was probably expecting some sort of reaction (and by that, I mean, a blatant erection) but I was numb.
Frankly, my dick being freed was a non-event that time. At this point, if I had wanted to get any kind of sexual release, it would have come from my prostate, not from my abnormally long penis.
Coach Ranson could tell that something was wrong. Of course, he knew me better than anyone else. Maybe he could help me? I could no longer think straight (quite literally) and I was out of options.
I needed someone to tell me what to do. Good thing was, ordering me around was Coach Ranson's speciality.
"Russel. Get your head back in the game." He spoke. "You have a competition to win. You have come so far; you cannot let the pressure get to you now. There is today and then there is the finale tournament next Saturday, after that, you will be the biggest wrestling champion of the state, maybe of the entire country! FOCUS!"
Wrestling. That was easy. I could handle that. I knew what to do on the mat. I nodded yes. But Coach Ranson was not satisfied. He slapped me harshly. My cheek turned purple.
"Son, come back here, get into your beast mode! There is one place on Earth where you can forget all of your problems and this is right there, on the mat. Let go of all of the polluting thoughts that are messing with your brain!"
The Head-Coach really was a master at finding the right words. This was precisely what I needed to hear. I was craving for an escape from my own mind.
"And don't forget, maybe you don't want to use your... mmm... fluids today, but the other athletes won't shy away from doing everything they can to stop you. You need to be prepared, Scott."
Again, that was true. My opponents did not shy away from using their hard cocks to block me or to try to throw me off.
Every four athletes that I met during this competition jizzed on me through their respective singlets. One particularly fit Latino guy had probably saved himself for an entire month because it felt like he was releasing gallons of sperm over my ass. I was drenched and it went through my own singlet.
That did not phase me one bit.
They could spray all their spunk over my singlet, ass, or face if they wanted to, I would still beat them!
And I did. One after the other, I smashed their asses. My mind was clear. I was precise and strong. I latched all of the stress that I had been feeling from the previous 24 hours onto my opponents.
When the referee held my hand in sign of victory, Coach Ranson looked so proud of me.
Some fans in the audience were disappointing that the notorious "Cum-Stick" was competing with his dick flaccid and without any cum or piss on his face. They expected more for me. But this could not get to me either. I was a beast and I was winning. It was all that mattered.
I barely remember anything from my matches that day, only the incredible sensation of peace of mind that I felt throughout the competition.
Sadly, that did not last and as soon as I was declared victorious of my last match, the disturbing thoughts came back creeping into my brain. My dick was free from the cage but it was, once again, my asshole which was begging for attention.
In what kind of freak had I turned into?
The wolves were cheering for me in the bus back to the campus. Daniel and Coach Ranson were very satisfied with my moves and more generally with the performance of the team. Damian was the only one who was moody and did not take part in the celebration. He had obtained his poorest results ever; losing each of his match. I wondered if that had anything to do with me.
Maybe I was imagining things.
I was sitting next to Harry on the ride back. He was wearing some tiny black shorts, clearly bulging underneath. My ass was twitching at the sight. It had been more than 24 hours that my hole had been filled with a cock. I did not have my butt plug on, and I had been so stressed out... I needed a good prostate's massage, badly!
Each bump on the road, I wanted to feel it deep within my hole. I was a real whore.
It turned out that my cravings would be fulfilled sooner than I was expecting.
I did not go back to the dorms when we arrived at campus. I had to meet with Coach Ranson in his office to put the chastity cage back on. We were also supposed to discuss the strategies for the very last competition of the year.
That would be a huge event and our university would host, welcoming athletes from all over the State. There would be some scooting agents from professional wrestling teams present as well.
"You really want to put the cage back on, without even cumming first?" Coach Ranson asked as I was standing before him, already naked, residue of the jizz from my opponents still drying and coating on my skin.
Even him seemed perplex by how far I was committed to this "non-ejaculation" rule.
"I'm not sure... I guess I don't feel the need to cum this way anymore..." I casually replied.
"This way?"
"Doctor Peterson had advised me to find other outlets to release my tension..." I explained.
"Good for you, boy."
The Coach was playing with the cage in his hands. He seemed fascinated by the tiny metal bars.
"Coach, can I talk to you about something personal?"
My heart started beating faster in my chest. I knew that it was time. I needed to get this weight out of my chest.
"You know it, son. You can tell me anything."
"Coach, do you..." I gulped. "Do you think that I am gay?"
Coach Ranson chuckled. I was mortified.
"What an odd thing to ask your wrestling coach!" He said, a large smile on his face.
"I'm sorry, Coach. This is probably ridiculous, I..."
"No." He cut me off. "Please, we are way passed this point. Besides, I already know everything about your struggles with your sexual identity, there is absolutely no reason to feel ashamed about that. But why are you asking me that exactly? Why now?"
