This is a collab with Mr. Cavanaugh. You can see his perspective here.
Dexter Klein was not a failure. Not even in the gym class he was sweating his balls off in. Dexter worked his ass off in every class he was in to get the best grade. He wasn’t naturally smart like a lot of the nerds. He had to put in a lot of work, and maybe a little something else, to make good grades. This is why he has been so frustrated with Coach Montana and his damn physical education class.
He respected most of his teachers for what they did, but Coach Montana was not one of them. The man’s motto, “real men are forged in fire,” only applied to his football team. Dexter could see the look of contempt Coach Montana had for every other man in his P.E. classes. He would run them into the ground, then only give good grades to the jocks. After all, the school only really cared for its sports teams and the fame they brought.
Many students complained about Coach Montana’s harsh treatment, but Dexter kept his mouth shut. He wanted to get a decent grade and just not have to deal with it. However after getting a C on his last report card, Dexter wasn’t going to take the torture any more. Especially after having to take shit from Coach Montana’s star player and nothing being done. Not even trying to fake solving the problem. His glaring must have caught the coach’s eye as they ran, causing the big man to bark out orders for more laps. That pushed any trepidation he had out of his mind.
Locking eyes with the Coach Montana, he felt it, the connection. He had used it a few times before to take some knowledge from a few nerds to pass a test, but he had never tried something this big before. Suddenly, Dexter felt the burst of energy and he began to pick up his running pace. He felt good.
Dexter made sure to make his connection everyday, even the days he didn’t have P.E. class. He could hide pretty well among the other students for now. The first day’s target was Coach Montana’s masculinity. He started by slowly shrinking the coach’s balls, while his own swelled. He had to constantly adjust his crotch as the day went on. Those matters were not helped when he started stealing the coach’s cock length and girth either. He had to giggle to himself in English class at the thought of Montana’s normal gym shorts’ bulge now being flat. He even wondered how long it would take the arrogant man to notice.
The second day he remembered to wear loose fitting shoes and clothes. He knew he would have to steal only a little bit of height each day as to not raise too high a suspicion, but Dexter couldn’t help but have a little fun. He sucked a few inches off of Coach Montana’s 6’3” stature, but had some other plans too. Carefully he began to focus on the man’s hands and feet.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself, realizing he didn’t control how much he took. Dexter stared at the mitt-like hands he now had and the crushed bits of pencil that littered his sausage-like fingers. And his shoes felt so tight. He had bought a pair of size 14s on sale in advance, but the shoes were straining to contain his now much meatier feet. Thankfully, the clomping his shoes made as he walked was covered up by the movements of other students. He did have to laugh as he watched Coach Montana struggle to maintain some semblance of his normally cocky stride.
Wednesday brought P.E. class again. Dexter confidently strode into the gym and looked over at his victim. He could clearly see the effects of the masculinity drain already. The coach looked much more tired after his usual pre-class workout. Even his voice sounded weaker as he called roll and began to outline what the class would be doing that day. Dexter knew it was his chance to make his first big move: muscles. He greatly restrained himself as he mentally focused on his coach’s muscles and strength. Coach Montana rubbed his biceps tenderly as he grabbed a few balls, before clumsily dropping them to the ground. He cursed and when he heard chuckles, he called for laps. Dexter didn’t mind at all. It was only after class he heard some yelling coming from the coach’s office, and his smile only grew wider.
The next morning Dexter actually was up early and brimming with energy. He felt so good that he went out for a morning run for the first time, and it felt great. He loved the feeling of his new muscles moving. Not to mention how tight all his shirts felt on him. It exhilarated him. Dexter got a little more creative on the fourth day by stealing some of the coach’s age. Not much showed, but another inch, more body hair, and some more masculine features certainly made him more noticeable as he strode through the crowd of students he was once swallowed in.
Friday was a bust. Dexter did not expect Coach Montana to actually give in and take a sick day. He was still able to drain the coach, but the connection was much weaker. As the day went on and he felt more power slowly flow into him, he relaxed. He would take care of the rest on the weekend. In the meanwhile, he enjoyed showing off his new form. Watching his sleeves strain, his neckline bulge with hairy pecs, watching the twinks quiver as he talked to them. He could rule this school if he wanted to, and he did, but he had some different plans.
Saturday was spent flexing and jerking off to the changes still coming to him through the faint connection. When he wasn’t self-indulging, he was making his plans. Everything would change tomorrow and he could never go back to school the way he was now. He looked to be like an off-season physique model in his late twenties. He looked hot, but it wasn’t enough.
Sunday was the day for action. He wore skin tight clothes, even a button-up to show off how big his pecs were, and an air of confidence. Dexter strutted up the the door and rapped his knuckles against it, waiting for his prey to come. When the door opened to reveal the shrunken coach, he grinned like the Chesire cat. He immediately remade the connection that had weakened with renewed strength and began sucking more from Coach Montana. Dominance, knowledge of sports and exercise, sex. He was going to take it all. Dexter pushed his way way with a smirk, watching the smaller and younger coach fall to the ground. He knew he would have to explain how some things were going to change around here.
The new school year was just about to begin. The disappearance of Fred Montana caused quite a stir and ran on the news all summer. The news of Dexter Klein’s disappearance swiftly faded into the media static.
Murmurs of what could have happened still danced around the halls of the school as heavy footsteps made their way to the principal’s office. The door opened and the principal looked up with a shocked expression at the large silhouette in the doorway.
“Can I help you?” The well-dressed principal inquired.
“Yeah. I need to get my son, Freddie, signed up for classes. And I heard you are looking for a new strength coach.”
The principal gave a knowing smile, “Oh yes. We can certainly get that done. Just need to fill out some paperwork.” The principal looked like he was hiding a smirk. “I’m sorry I didn’t catch your name.”
“It’s Dex. Dex Calvin.” The grinning giant boomed back.
“Well our secretary can help little Freddie get settled in,” he could see those words sting the small student as he handed him the papers and directed him out of the room.
“Now it looks like you are already dressed for the job. Can you start today?” His smile was sly and he chuckled.
Dex chuckled back, “You know I will, Principal Amalia.”