Revenge of the Nerds - The Coach
(Last entry into this series, (for now ). I'd recommend reading the other parts first. It's a bit different than my usual stuff, but it's back to regular captions tomorrow.)
“Huh, that’s odd.” Oliver mumbled softly. He looked again at the old college yearbook he had open in his hands, staring in disbelief at the picture and name of an old professor.
Maybe the musty basement air was making him see things, he had been down here for way too long. Oliver took his glasses off and closed his eyes, softly rubbing them. He’d take a deep breath but the moldy air would probably make things worse. He didn’t understand why he had to be the one to clear out this campus basement. Oliver wouldn’t even get to use the pleasure centre they were building here, it was just for all the many new athletes that needed their balls drained after their training.
Oliver groaned and opened his eyes again, expecting the trick of the light and his tired mind to have disappeared. But it had done no such thing. And in the old yearbook he had opened in his lap he still saw the same hollow grin stare back at him, with a name written under it recogniseable to anyone on campus.
“Ronald Biggs. Prof Biology (2008)” It read under the photo of an old and tired looking professor.
Oliver couldn’t believe it, could that be the same guy as coach Ron Biggs, the muscle daddy who had recently seized control of the campus?
It seemed highly unlikely that the scrawny biology professor from this picture would be the same as the super sized stud coach, but after Oliver had seen the chess club of all things grow into bulging hunks with mass he doubted anyone couldn’t be turned into filled out muscle packed specimens of masculinity if they got trained by coach Biggs.
Oliver licked his lips, the thoughts of the sexy oversized coach drying up his mouth, even in the humid basement.
Oliver contemplated what to do for a moment, the old yearbook still open in his hands. Oliver had hoped when he had found the small box labeled ‘Biggs’ behind a shelf it would be filled with old jockstraps from the aged and ripe stallion coach. Instead he had found out the lumbering stud who currently had the entire campus in the palm of his hand might have once been a weak biology professor.
Oliver scratched behind his head, left the yearbook for what it was, and grabbed deeper into the box. To his dissatisfaction Oliver discovered there wasn’t any clothing carrying the manly musk of the coach there either, instead it seemed filled with a large supply of old papers. Oliver considered just trashing the box for a moment, getting on with the cleaning of the basement, but his curiosity got the better of him. What papers could be in a box labeled after the big coach?
He grabbed one of them. After dusting the front cover off it read: “Revenge of the Nerds: A Manifesto. By Prof. Ron Biggs” Under the dim light of the one working lamp in the basement Oliver started reading. His mouth slowly falling open in the process.
Coach Biggs loved the way he smelled after a workout. He loved a lot after his workouts, the way his eight pack rippled, and his veins popped out of his body, but the smell was the best. That deep musk of manliness could be smelled from 20 feet away and forced everyone to turn their heads and look what deep fragrance their nose was picking up.
Well, they’d most likely were already looking around because Coach Biggs deep thudding footsteps could shake the ground with his massive weight, but you could see the extra urgency in their stares when they smelled pure testosterone dangling in the air. And when people saw the sweat covering his ripped upper body, his hair the same colour as the salt that covered his body in the form of sweat, well that really got their attention.
Coach Biggs smiled, he could get used to being big.
Coach Biggs smile faded however once he walked into the basement he had asked one of the college kids to clean out. He should have been angry that the small twerp wasn’t finished yet but instead got very scared once he saw that he was reading through an instantly recognisable thick set of papers.
His thick set of papers. His manifesto. Shit, he hadn’t planned on being discovered so late into the plan.
“Oliver! What are you doing, slacking off?”
Maybe the twerp hadn’t read too much yet? Coach Biggs hoped so. Maybe his first reaction of fear was unnecessary?
“I know what’s going on, Coach.” Oliver said, lifting his head away from the papers and directly looking the big man into his eyes.
Nope. No unnecessary fears. Biggs had been right being scared, the twerp had access to some very… Sensitive information, about the plans Coach had for campus. Biggs hadn’t felt any fear since he had all these giant muscles at his disposal. The emotion felt a lot more violent now that so many big muscles all tensed up.
‘Okay. Control yourself Biggs’ The giant thought to himself. Breathing in and out. Let’s see just how much the nerd knows. Coach raised an eyebrow. His wrinkled with age yet handsome and bearded face betraying nothing of his inner turmoil. He made sure to jut out his gigantic pecs some more, confidence was key. “Oh? Then what is going on, runt?” His voice was loud and booming. Soothing the big man slightly with his own deep voice.
“You’re using the schools teams as an cover up for some foul, foul magic.” It was almost cute seeing the tiny man so worked up. Well it would have been cute if he wasn’t uncovering plans years in the making.
“Magic?” The coach tried innocently.
“Muscle draining magic.” Oliver answered resolutely.
“Muscle transfer by competition, difficult spell to pull off, I’ve seen it at work a few times. In blurry shaky videos. Friends doing little arm wrestling competitions, the winner gains a few pounds of muscle, loser loses some. Most with a little knowledge of the arcane forces think it’s relatively harmless… But to imagine something on this scale!” Oliver shook around his hands violently while he spoke.
Coach Biggs knew that him playing dumb was gonna run out at some point. But he had to keep up the act for now. He shrugged his wide cannonball shoulders. “What do you mean?”
“You’re draining the competitors to our teams of their size!” Oliver cried out, clearly relieved he got to share the information, even with the architect behind that design. Coach Biggs just had to raise an eyebrow before the runt started telling even more about what he knew. “You’ve applied some version of that spell to this entire campus. Every time one of our many oversized teams obliterates their competition, your magic steals a little size.”
The Coach just held his questioning eyebrow suspended. “Wouldn’t that result in all our athletes looking like eight hundred pounds gorilla’s by now? With how many games they win and all? Besides, all the students I’m coaching were already gigantic and thick before they started competing.” Oliver looked even more triumphantly as he got to reveal the last part of the puzzle. “That’s the real devilish part, you’re storing all that stolen size somewhere, not even on your own oversized body.”
Biggs smiled a sour smile. Oliver knew pretty much the entire plan. He really thought he had destroyed every version of that manifesto, it was awfully annoying having your entire plan open on the table. Biggs clacked his tongue. “Well. Shit.” He mumbled.
Oliver’s eyes went wide. He looked again at the manifesto in his hands, a quizzical expression plastered over his face. “Why’d you even write this in the first place?”
Biggs shrugged, he saw no further reasons to lie. “I thought I could make my ideas appealing to the then coach and faculty on campus. Didn’t work out, they kicked me out.” Biggs grew a faint smile. “So then I set everything up anyways. Took me years setting up a spell as big this one, even if this version of muscle transfer is the easiest and cheapest to manage.”
Biggs considered what he was going to do with Oliver. He needed to build up some more trust, so he continued filling in the remaining gaps. “We really only had the old football team that was winning games a year back. Former coach had put all his eggs into that basket. Their wins gave me the firsts drops of this.” The coach shook a small vial in the air, ‘B1G’ was written on its side. “That’s the stolen size, condensed into liquid. I used it on myself first, growing me enough to be unrecognisable from my previous flabby form, and big enough to usurp the position of the old coach. Made some to the teams after that.”
Oliver grew even more wide eyed, but his curiosity wasn’t yet satisfied. “You were the one behind the old football team’s downfall, right?” Coach nodded. “I got impatient and needed to give my plans a little jump start. Made a few harmless bets with football team, and after they lost those, the spell kicked in and down the drain their size went. Got to buff up the Lacrosse and swimming team with that. After that it went quick, the size of a full football team condensed down to a few select studs meant they were winning games faster and faster. Wrestling, basketball, baseball, debate, chess, football… If we could compete in it, I’d sign up a team of super studs that would win matches and drain their opponents without either party even knowing it. Soon I had quite the lucrative business of stolen size, got it over flowing in tanks now.”
Oliver felt rather stupid for not suspecting magical interference before. An college where every single team is composed of bulging and swollen hunks did seem rather unlikely.
“I still don’t understand two things.” Oliver mumbled. The expression on Coach’s face was still not cold, so he dared ask even further. “The first thing I don’t get, why? What’s the end dame?” Biggs almost looked disappointed Oliver hadn’t caught on by now. “Didn’t you see the title of that manifesto? Revenge. Revenge for all of nerd kind. With the power I’m aiming for, I’ll soon be able to apply the theft spell all over town, state, nation, world. It’ll be a few decades, but I’m in no rush. Once the world has been reduced to wimps, I get to rewrite who holds the physical prowess.”
Oliver looked rather unimpressed. Biggs already had trouble managing this small campus, he wasn’t a man cut out for world domination. He would say so but the grey fox who was currently standing in the small light the lamp was producing could still crack Oliver’s skull rather easily with one of bulging muscles. So he bit his tongue. “The other thing I don’t understand is, why did you tell me all that?
“After reading that manifesto, there wasn’t much you were still lacking, I just filled in the blanks you would have filled in anyways. As for why I did that, well…” Coach Biggs suddenly and effortlessly lifted the tiny Oliver up in the air, pressing him into the basement walls. His aged muscle beef hotly pressing into the already boned up Oliver. “I knew I could count on your silence anyways.” Now it was Oliver’s turn to be terrified. Well, and aroused, because he had the hottest coach in the world breathing into his neck. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hurt ya. I’m going to do something much worse, make you an accomplice.”
Coach Bigg’s wall of pecs held the smaller man perfectly in place as he grabbed through his pockets, before finally producing two small vials with the ‘B1G’ logo. Oliver wanted to put up some resistance, to put a halt to this maniac, but an even bigger part of him wanted to feel what it was like swelling up with size. He opened his mouth to negotiate, but before he even got to utter a word the small vials popped open and it’s transparent content’s went down Oliver's throat. He swallowed it without much further thought.
“I have been looking for an assistant coach for a while now.” Coach Biggs thought out loud, looking on as the small guy grew larger with mass. Since he had used an extra dose Biggs hoped this nerd could handle his footlong cock. He had also been looking for a worthy cum dump for a while now.
Coach Biggs threw the small guy over his shoulders and walked out of the basement, they were gonna go somewhere a little more private to feel each of Oliver’s limbs fill out with mass.
As Coach Biggs walked out of the basement, he flat out forgot about the box containing his manifesto and the yearbook connecting his current hunky body to the pictures of his former feeble form.
He was too infatuated with Oliver’s growing pecs to remember the important evidence.
Surely that wasn’t gonna bite him in the ass later?