The Program
Part 7
After the six month mark, I began the second phase of the training, which entailed rigorous drills and practices every day.Since Zeke was training to be a professional weightlifter, we saw each other less and less.
Since I had picked football as my sport, I was led by Todd to a door at the end of the weight room he said was the team locker room, and told me to report to the coach there, who would give me all my equipment, and then drill me. I walked through the state of the art lockerroom, and knocked on the coach’s door. “Well, what do we have here: fresh meat, right off the press!” said the man who would be the center of my life for the next six months of training. “Yes-siree, shit they you all better specimens if they cast you outta clay,” he said as he jumped up, and, as he grabbed me by the back of the neck, a chill went down my spine. “So, you’re here to play some football?” he asked, as the red lights on my cock node went nuts. “Yes, sir”. I had never been so sure of anything in my life. The past six months had led directly to this moment, and all those moments of strain in the weight room had made me more sure that being a first rate football player was natural for a guy with a spanking hot body like mine. It was my fate. In a way, I felt compelled to do everything the man said.
“Coach is great”; I thought to myself as I laced up my shoes and put on my equipment. I came at once after looking in the mirror and seeing myself in that powerful uniform. It was a powerful, overwhelming orgasm, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. I leaned up against the locker and rubbed my crotch lustily through the uniform, cognizant that I was to become a machine designed to move a pigskin most efficiently across the field, as if the endzone were the only reality I perceived, and all else was quite irrelevant to that task.Picturing myself running the ball up and down the field generated another quick fire orgasm in rapid succession, just as powerful as the first. I flexed my brawny arm in the mirror and revelled in this powerful feeling.
On my way to the field, I stopped by the coach’s office, nearly giddy to please the impressive man. Coach patted me heartily on the shoulderpads, ruffled my shortly trimmed hair a bit, and pressed a second reservoir into my padded hand. “Some guys get too excited on their first day on the field,” he said. “This is to make sure you don’t ruin your pretty new uniform with your tit juice.” He then reached to his desk and grabbed the new helmet that adorned it. This he placed on my close-cropped head ceremoniously. Then he bade me to change my reservoirs, and slapped me on the butt as I left his office. That felt so right!
With my helmet on, I looked even more the part of the sports machine, singularly concerned with the task of winning. Just the thought of winning mae my cock and tits drool. I undid the front of my football pants front, pulled down the specially made jock that held my glowing harness, and pulled off the reservoir from my throbbing, oozing cock. This I replaced with the new, slightly larger reservoir, which, once in place, I cradled again in the jock. A damn impressive sight, I thought as I flexed my abs in the mirror, their chiselled surface disappearing beneath my uniform. THis would be an incredible six months, I thought to myself as a slight moan escaped my lips. I came in a very slow, deliberate way, oozing cum into the new reservoir. The white jock glowed, and, as my third orgasm in the uniform subsided, I pulled up my pants, and, tying them up, ran out to the field, remembering to put my mouth guard in beforehand.