"Shit, yeah. How could you miss him?" JD answered. "Motherfucker is growing huge." He looked around nervously, as though somebody might catch them talking about their coach. Not that it would be that unusual; two senior boys on the wrestling team might naturally talk about their coach. But there was an urgency in their voices that betrayed the rush of adrenaline they were both feeling. Both had noticed the changes that Mr. Hall had been going through, but this was the first time either had acknowledged it, and it felt... dangerous.

Neither would acknowledge it to the other, but they had both joined the wrestling team four years ago in part because they wanted to get muscular, cut-up bodies like the wrestlers they had seen as kids. Now, as seniors and seasoned competitors on the mat, they had achieved this goal, both sporting hard, defined bodies that looked made to wear the school's maroon-and-white lycra wrestling singlets. Hal was 6 feet and 178 pounds, blond, with a boyish twinkle in his blue eyes. JD was shorter, only 5'7 and 160, but extremely solid, with straight black hair and brooding dark blue eyes. Both of their bodies would be considered stunning on such young men by even the strictest standards, but seeing the coach gaining hard like this made them both want more.

"You think he's on steroids or something? It happened in, like, two weeks." The look in Hal's eyes was one of wonderment, and also curiosity.

"Gotta be on something." JD shifted and looked down. Was that a lump in the front of Hal's cargo shorts? He looked up again, quickly, wondering if Hal saw him looking.

"What I would give to get huge like that..." Hal breathed.

"Me too," answered JD, almost before he realized it.

"That practice shirt he wears..." Hal started.

"...so tight on him." JD finished.

"And his shorts..."

"God. I know." JD's mind went back to practice that afternoon. Mr. Hall in his white polo with the school logo embroidered on the left breast, the button placket stretched into a severe open V by the mass of his heavy chest muscles, the cleavage of his pecs clearly visible. The sleeves so tight that they didn't cover his biceps at all, barely able to cap the delts, the band at the outer edge of the sleeves stretched tight into the intervening valley. Paradoxically, the shirt was loose around his ripped waist, the hem pulled up a bit by the high shelf of chest muscle, showing a hint of his cobbled abdominals. The elastic waistband of his once-loose maroon nylon gym shorts dipped a bit in front, as though weighted, showing the hint of a hairy trail down to...

"We gotta ask him." Hal's voice sounded desperate, interrupting JD's reverie.

"Ask him what?"

"What he's on. Ask him to get some for us."

"You think he'd --"

"Can't hurt to ask, man."

"What if it's illegal?"

"Then he won't tell us he's on anything. But if it's not, man..." Hal's eyes glowed.

"Maybe he'll let us in on it," JD finished.

"I wanna get big like him," Hal said. He paused, with a faraway look in his eyes. "So bad," he almost whispered. Then he looked JD straight in the eye. Something passed between them, like a shock, instantaneous and strong.

"Me too," JD said. His eyes flicked down to Hal's crotch again. There was a definite lump, mirroring his own, which he hoped Hal couldn't see. "You fucking faggot!" he shouted, laughing, with a mock punch to Hal's gut, to break the tension. They air-boxed their way down the hallway and out in to the parking lot, their laughter and shouts echoing back into the dark, moist locker room.

That night both boys made themselves cum with deep hard-spurting orgasms, reliving that moment of locked eyes as they wondered at the possibilities the mysteriously growing Mr. Hall might offer. •