It was customary to get coach a present on his birthday, a sort of unspoken rule amongst the teammates. This year, however, Alan had forgotten. He didn’t even realize until coach pulled him into his office after practice and asked him, “so, do you have something to give me boy?”
Alan gulped. He looked at coaches stern jaw, outlined underneath his thick, grizzly beard. He shook his head. “I’m so sorry coach,” he pleaded, “I promise I’ll get you one next year.”
The coach laughed, his burly chest shaking along with each motion. He shook his head. “It’s alright boy, I guess you’ll just have to be my present.”
He looked at the coach, confused for a moment, before he felt himself changing. He looked down at his skin, which had suddenly grown pale and white, the texture changing from flesh to mesh. Alan looked up in shock. “Coach what are yo—?“
But his mouth was already gone, replaced by the meshy fabric. He started to claw at his face, but his arms early slapped against the fabric. They were made of elastic!
His legs gave way and suddenly he was writhing on the floor. He looked up and saw coach walk over towards him with a pleasured grin. “Oh boy,” he said, “you’re lookin’ mighty comfortable down there.”
Alan realized he could no longer move. He could still feel his body, his limbs arranged in strange, bizarre patterns. Above him, coach began to remove his clothes. Alan had only dreamed of what that man looked like under those tiny blue shorts and that skin-tight tank top. But as he peeled the shirt up over his chest, still soaking with post-practice sweat, he felt his entire (small) body fill with lust.
The man was built like a god, his thick, chiseled chest rising and falling with each breath. He pulled down the shorts and his dick, predictably large and very hairy, flopped out and waved above Alan’s face like a pendulum.
Coach let out a deep breath. “Alright boy, lets see how well you fit.” The man reached down and fumbled with Alan’s limbs. He tried to struggle, but he only felt warmth against his elastic bands as they rubbed against coach’s legs and up over the massive mounds of beef that he could only assume was his ass.
And then he felt something big and warm press up behind his head. He felt his face stretch outwards and his entire body grow hot and wet almost immediately. As strange as it all was, Alan felt oddly comfortable, like he was standing upright once more.
“There,” Coach said as his rough hands positioned Alan’s straps, “that outta do it.” He walked towards the mirror on the other side of his office, and Alan froze in terror at what he saw reflected back at him.
He was wrapped very tightly around coach’s waist, his entire body transformed into a series of comfortably fitting elastic straps. All except his face, which had become a clear white pouch, practically bursting with coach’s monster cock.
He was a jockstrap. Coach has turned Alan into a jockstrap.
Coach grunted, “well, it’s a little bit small I must say. But then again, you were always the smallest on the team.”
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