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Grow for Me
|Coach Briggs had one goal in life: winning. At least everyone had always assumed that the former football star was content with a life of winning year after year in the small town. But Briggs had other plans. Hidden dreams and desires pushed him to employ new tactics to make his boys into stronger, tougher players. Besides losing, the only thing that made the coach furious was seeing males walk through the halls of the school who werenít on the team. His goal was to have a school were every boy played on the team, and every teacher helped coach. It had been years in planning and preparing, but he had finally found a solution. The key to gaining control of any men, and turning him into a mindless obedient football player.
Truth be told, the method was not simple and in fact was highly dangerous to the individual. He had gained help through a few other teachers who were coachís and the occasional science nerd who also played football. Through it all, he had constructed a machine that allowed the coach to reformat an individualís entire being. He could alter their pattern of thought, memories, habits, and any other part of their metal process. The machine also enabled him to morph the body to any whim. Height, weight, muscle mass, even down to hair length and eye color, the coach would have unlimited access to the individual.
The only obstacle that had been in his path was the administration. An older educator, Burton Fisher, had sat as the principal for almost twenty years, and he was as anti-athletics as anyone could come. But Burton had finally had enough of the school, and had retired. Briggs himself had been a vice principal, and had stepped up to take the opening. The other vice principal, Allen Windstock, had long been a supporter of Briggs, and he appointed the AP Chemistry teacher, Nicholas Cast, as the new vice principal. Cast was not an ally, but Briggs had plans for the former wrestler to become a defensive lineman coach. All he needed was an excuse to have an administrative meeting at the stadium. Construction on the school had provided that reason, and today was Castís lucky day.
Nicholas was an older man. Forty and divorced, he had the great pleasure of looking young for his age and being in decent health. He was against sports, his only problems was stupid people. Honestly, he told his students that they had to think to pass his class. However, his harsh approach resulted in high test pass rates, and earned him the love and respect of his kids.
He walked into the large locker room. The school was well-funded, and the ever successful team was granted large donations to continue its performance. The airy space smelled strongly of sweat and slightly of piss.
"Briggs?" He called out. Nicholas heard voices off to the back. He discovered a small door in the wall that looked as though it had been added to the building. Pushing open the door, he was greeted with the sight of Briggs sitting at a table.
"Cast!" He exclaimed. "So glad you could make it." As Nicholas walked in, the door closed behind him.
"Is Windstock-" Nicholas was cut off as Windstock grabbed the man from behind. Struggling violently, he was amazed at how firm Windstock held him.
"Cast, weíve had a bit of a change. We really need to expand our football program. So, I nominated you to coach the defensive linemen."
"What?" Cast could only struggle uselessly against Windstockís bulk. Had the man been this big before? No, Nicholas thought, he had been thin, not muscular. Windstock carried the teacher over to a large tube-like structure. He open a door, thrust Cast in, and slammed it shut. Nicholas heard a click, informing him that the door had been locked.
Briggs approach the computer screen and looked at the digital image of Cast it now displayed. The man was 5'5 weighing 155 pounds. He had no history of football but he had wrestled in high school. First, the memories. Nicholas was now Cast, he had been called that since sixth grade football. He had played defensive tackle from day one and had loved it. He loved slamming his beautifully muscled body into other men. He had been given the number 71, which he proudly wore through college. He became a teacher to help other men become football players. He loved working for Briggs, the man was a genius and all men needed to play the game. It was the only sport that mattered.
Mentally, Nicholas was unable to resist the changes. I wrestled, my number was 71. Wrestlers donít wear a number. But I was 71, I have the jersey on the wall in my classroom. I was too small to play football, I was the heaviest guy on the team. I was skinny, I was pumped. I could rip shirts off my body by flexing. I did it in the locker room all the time, the guys loved it. No, no, no . . . I was a straight A student. Man, I barely pulled Cís. I worked hard at school, no way, dude, like I totally devoted myself to the game. I had a life, and that life was football. I insist that was not mean. I was the man1! Dude, I could smash a beer can against my head and flatten it. That was so cool. Me and the guys getting drunk after all the wins. I only masticated, masticar, masti, dude, I was chewing down on meat all the time to gain weight. Yeah, I was 225 in high school, and I upped to 250 in college. No, I put on ten pounds in college, putting me at 155. I weighed 155 when I was 13. God, I love the game. . .
Now, Cast was lulling away in the false memories of the past. He learned plays, drills, uniform maintenance, even proper football player behavior. It integrated into his self, he was a football player, Nick Cast. All the guys called him Cast.
Every thing that Briggs typed into the computer became fact in Castís mind. Mentally, Cast was ready to became a football player physically. His bones smashed and snapped, ligaments ripped as his body grew to 6'6 and his weight changed to 400 pounds. Slowly, his feet stretched, snapping apart what had been Nicholasí body, turning it into Castís. His calves pumped with muscle, veins sprouted throughout his legs, crawling up to his thighs as they began to triple in size, pumping and brimming with newfound strength and a desire to use it. His dick bucked as it thickened and lengthen, hanging lower as his testicles inflated to match the new size. All the former fat in his body flowed into his ass, forming a large, supple bottom on the man. His abs caved in to form six hard abs, painstakingly maintained, so deep they looked painful. The veins now reached his pecs and back, which quaked as they packed on huge amounts of muscle, giving his body an incredible pronounced "V" shape. The veins carrying the fluid traveled to his neck, which nearly popped as his voice dropped to the deepest sound possible. His jaw become square and strong enough to break metal. His nose flatten, as though it had broken several times. His green eyes become a dull brown, as did his hair. The changes entered his brain, as his body became the main focus of his life. That and football. He blinked his eyes, and upon opening, he looked less intelligent and more appropriate for his new life. Windstock opened the capsule, and Cast stepped out.
"Marvelous!" Briggs cheered. "Now Cast, get dressed so we can discuss the team."
"Yeah, . . .dudes." said the now dumb jock as he put on a jock strap and cup, white underarmor tights, and a white long-sleeved underarmor shirt. He put on his tennis shoes and sat down with the other men.
"Like, I got this new plan, see . . ."
To all the student who came to school the first day, they had not idea what changes had occurred. Most had heard that Burton had retired, but only rumors had circulated as to who the new Principal was. For the athletes, Briggs was a victory, while the academic kids felt strangely discarded. The biggest shock came in Chemistry. The formerly nerdy teacher was one hell of a hunk, and coaching football. For a man who had despised dumb kids, he certainly had experienced a change of heart. His clothes now pressed against his chest, stretching the fabric of his polo to the extreme. He spoke, but almost no one heard, as the smart kids were amazed at the changes. While most accepted it, one boy had a huge problem. Darren Brock knew, without a doubt, that such physical changes were impossible. Sitting 6'5 himself, th height gain confirmed for Darren that nothing about the change was natural. Having known the teacher from the previous year, he also did not believe that the teacher would ever asked to be called Cast before.
Darren spent most of the day pondering the extreme make over Nicholas, he had always called him Nicholas- for four years, and now he wanted to be called Cast or . . . Coach. Why? Darren had a conspiracy theory streak in him, but it was never this large. But he couldnít help but notice that the new principle looked mighty pleased all day. The school had one thousand seniors, plus three thousand underclassmen, the school was huge and noticing anything unusual or missing was near impossible. Except for Darren, who kept running into trouble. He had all male teachers this year, and after two uneventful hours, fourth period held a surprise, Allen Windstock, history teacher, had done some gaining. This was a required class for graduating, and the only non-college level class that Darren had. The jocks in the room were impressed with their offensive coachís changes. He was in charge of offensive linemen, specialty- the centers. Darren was actually the only guy who wasnít fawning over Windstock. The rest of the day went normal, except that he couldnít help but think that Briggs was being too smug all day. He was too pleased with himself. He acted like his team had just won state, and they started practice this afternoon. Summer practice had been cancelled do to flooding, a once in a millennium occurrence, so all the players seemed eager to begin.
Darren decided to hang around and spy, watch the football practice. Oddly, they were holding their first meeting outside. Hmm, I always thought they did this in the locker room? Of course, I am gone most of the summer. He noticed that Briggs kept looking in his direction. Was he smiling? That wasnít a happy smile, that was a . . . what was it? All knowing. He knows, and he knows I know something is up. He is laughing at me! Because I have no idea what is going on, but I notice something amiss. Bastard. Of all the - wait, whereís Nicholas? He scanned the crowd once, then got up and ran. Down the stands, into the entry and out the gate. Outside, he bumped into Cast.
"Yo, woah! Little dude, whatís the matter?"
"Oh nothing, Nich-" Cast coughed, and a little saliva came out.
"Cast, bro, call me Cast or Coach. Nicholas makes me sound like a pussy."
"Sure, yeah, whatever. Look I gotta run. Jobís waiting." He tried to leave but Cast stepped in his path.
"You know, youíre pretty quick. We could use someone like you on the team."
"You know that would be fun, but, I have to work. Bills donít pay themselves."
"Dare, you could always move in with me." It was a common offer. Darrenís parents had been killed on his eighteenth birthday, and he had been working ever since. Nicholas had been there for him. He had almost considered the offer, but not now.
"Gotta run!" Darren sidestepped Cast was dashed to his car. Cast just stood there smiling, just like Briggs.
Aliens, drugs, government conspiracies. . . .damn. Darren couldnít invent a solution to the problem. What the hell. He was awake at 2 a.m. trying to process the events of the day. Briggs was in charge, Windstock was a bodybuilder, and Cast was a dumb jock. No, no, no . . . .but it was all true. He didnít do drugs, he had hallucinated, it had been real. What then? What to do? Go back, pretend everything is normal. No, I canít do that. I need to find out what happened to Nicholas. I could accept this if it happened to anyone else, but not him. I need him. Shit, what the hell am I doing, it could be natural. I didnít see Cast all summer, miracles do happen. . . except growth spurts at forty. No, it was wrong. The meeting was outside, so whatís going on in the locker room. Tomorrow, I will stay late, grade papers for Nicholas, get ride home from him. Use the time to snoop around. Huh, never thought I would try to break into the football locker room. With that he turned, and slept.
Zac Helm had never, ever been a cowboy. Yet, here he was, wearing tight jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt. Is that a white shirt underneath? No way. Adam . . .is dressed like that too. So is Chris. Are all the football players dressed like cowboys. Must be some, new hazing. But the seniors. This is weird. Wait, Zac was not taller than him. No, I had at least two inched on him, now I am not taller than any of the team. There all so big and muscular, were they like this yesterday? No they werenít. Fuck, am I going crazy?
But, as the day progressed, everything seemed more natural. His second hour was Dobson, the quarterback coach. God, he was All-American. Tall, blonde, handsomely chiseled, the guy walked out of a magazine. English was Van, the fullback coach, looking hot as always. Everything seemed so natural, like this was the way it was suppose to be. He went to Nickís room after school and looked around. Oh, duh, he coachís now. Well, might as well investigate. But, by the time he got to the field, he couldnít remember what was wrong.
"Dare, glad you came."
"Yeah, Cast." Did I just call him Cast, isnít that his name? No, it was Nicholas. But that wasnít a good name for the man before him. He was Cast. Yeah.
"Are you ready?" Cast looked at Darren.
"Yeah, dude, I wanna play." What no, I donít Darren does not want to play. Darren wants to know what is the matter. All the while he was following Cast through the locker room into the small room. Briggs sat at the table, dressed in white tights and long-sleeved shirt, his cup clearly defined beneath.
"So, does body fluid work?"
"Yes, sir, he came just as you suspected."
"Well, since it becomes a part of your DNA, I assumed it would. Now Brock, be a good boy and get undressed and step into the machine. Darren took off his clothes and discarded them. Then he stepped into the machine.
Briggs just laughed as he began the changes.
Darren Brock, Brock is a better name, much more masculine. Nick will be your father, so from now on you will be Brock Cast. Average student, of course. You love your father and wish to be exactly like him. You have the same style, personality, hell even the same mind. Now you need new slang. Dude, bitchin, woah, fuck, fuck, fuck, dick, prick, football, football, yo, sup . . that will do for now.
Brock accepted the life willingly, as Briggs began phase two. Now . . 6'5 better make it 6'8, need to be tall to be a defensive tackle. How about . . . 405 pounds. I little bit bigger than you old man. Slowly, Darrenís body began the change. His bones snapped apart and reassembled larger than before. His sunken chest bones shot forward as his should broadened. His feet reached a size 16, as small dark hairs traveled up his leg. Veins began pumping through his calves as they grew massive. His thighs began to changes, from small and sleek to thick, like tree-trunks. His dick hang lower as it grew to nine inches. His ass inflated with juicy fat, and became a wonderful bubble-butt. His abs became a hard washboard which a truck could drive over. His chest grew from 40 inches to over 70. He skin gained a bronzed tone as the veins snaked through his body, changing his blood into a bile-like substance that marked him as a player. He would never bleed again. He neck grew thick as his voice began so deep it was almost unhearable. His hair and eyes became a dull brown as his nose, jaw, and skull restructured. Finally, he blinked and the strange dumbness had sunk into him, and he was on the team.
He got out and put on the cup, jock strap, tights, top, and sneakers. Cast smiled at him and said," Get in the game, dude!"
Brock smiled dumbly and said, "Fuck yeah, later man!" They high-fived and Cast slapped his ass. Briggs smiled quietly as he had a new defensive tackle. The team was growing, but it was not complete. More nerds, skaters, everyone was going to play!
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