"Shit!" Hal said to himself, turning away quickly as he felt his cock throb to stiffness again in his jock. "He is so fucking..." and he quickly substituted "huge" in his mind for his first thought, which was "gorgeous." What was with his sudden... attraction? He looked down at the bulge in his shorts with confusion. Wanting to have muscle like Mr. Hall was one thing... wanting Mr. Hall himself was totally another. This was getting alarming.

Halfway down the hallway to the locker room, JD caught up with him. "Dude... he barely fits into his shirt today," said JD under his breath.

"I know. He's fucking on something. God, I want that muscle." Hal didn't specify in what way he wanted the muscle. They were back at their lockers, stripping off their sweaty t-shirts, exposing their tight, sweat-slick bodies to one another. Hal was at the point where he would usually lower his shorts and jock and drop them in a sweaty heap on the floor, but now he hesitated for fear of showing JD his obvious boner, which was not going down. At the same time, he noticed that JD seemed to be hesitating at the same point; and he saw that JD was noticing the same thing about him. Hal smiled sheepishly.

"What's your problem?" said JD, challenging him with a smirk.

With his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts, Hal was about to answer, "Wouldn't want to scare you away with my massive tool, you faggot," when he felt something inside him... shift. Instead of saying anything, he gasped. His dick notched up another level of hardness in his jock. He felt his nipples go raw and his entire body tighten into a coil of sexual tension. "Jesus," he whispered.

JD continued to look at him. "What's your problem, dude?" he repeated, this time with some concern. Hal looked funny, like his body was stiff, puppetlike somehow. He was arching his back slightly, his head tilted back, his hand traveling up across his stomach to his tight pecs. His eyes looked a little glazed. His fingers stopped at his right nipple and just teased it gently.

"Jesus," Hal said again, more quietly, as if receding.

"Hal, what's wrong?" JD asked, louder this time. The other guys were in another row of lockers, but he didn't want to attract attention.

"Nothing," Hal said. He looked directly at JD, and smiled. All at once he pulled down his shorts and jock and let his thick erect cock spring up to slap him against his chiseled abs. A slug of pre-cum launched itself in a glistening thread from his dicktip, to land like wet spider silk across JD's face.

JD jerked away in fear, as he could now plainly see that the eyes looking back at him were not Hal's. The smile – cold, penetrating – was not Hal's. And that cock – that mouthwatering, blood-heavy cock - was absolutely NOT Hal's. And yet this was still Hal. Wasn't it? But before he could react, scream, run, anything, the same thing happened to JD. There was an overpowering shift in – something, as though his consciousness were being bombarded by some kind of interference. He felt his body give over to...

"Oh god," JD said to Hal. He said it quietly, almost a sigh. "I never knew it would feel this... good." Without thinking, he stripped off his shorts, and looked down to see that he was wearing Dan Hall's jockstrap – he recognized the unusual red and yellow label on the waistband that sometimes showed above the waistband of their Coach's shorts. JD's cock felt completely alive, intensely sensitive, and harder than a railroad spike in the coach's jock. This was… unbelievable… his ultimate dream… better than his most feverishly imagined fantasy. He looked up at Hal in wonderment. "I'm... I'm JD," he said.

"You think this feels good?" Hal said. "Just wait." And in that instant, Hal and JD found themselves transported back to the gym where practice had just ended, and where Coach Hall had just flexed out of his white school-logo polo shirt. Hal couldn't help suppressing a chuckle as he watched the coach feel himself up in amazement, his big hands traveling slowly down over his wondrously muscled torso to the thick tubular bulge in his too-tight maroon nylon shorts.

They heard him gasp at the pleasure, and then they heard him think: God, that felt good. (Some remote, powerless part of Hal protested: "Heard him think?") – His huge muscles, his huge cock, so hard and on display, the shreds of his shirt hanging off him. He wanted to just pump out a load right here, it would be so hot to do it in the mirror...

Then they watched him catch himself and try to pull himself together. "What the fuck is happening to me?" he said aloud this time, half laughing, his voice echoing around the gym.

Hal stepped forward, his hard dick bobbing. "That's what we wanted to ask you, Coach." •