Turnville Turnips, The


By Id

The Turnville High School Turnips were infamous as the worst soccer team in the history of the sport. In fact, in the past 17 years the Turnips hadn’t won a single game, if ever someone scored a goal from the Turnips (which happened rarely) it was celebrated. The last time they’d won a game (17 years ago) the other team had failed to show up. But its not to say they weren’t trying.

For 12 of those past 17 years, Coach Dan had tried everything under the sun to improve the team, to no affect. Coach Dan was a man who could hold his own, not fairly tall, but fairly muscled with a gruff deep voice and body hair like nobodies business. He was the typical ‘hunt fish camp’ type of guy, and didn’t tolerate any behavior that was anything less than quintessentially manly. Frankly, he even intimidated the other male teachers. This year he placed all of his hopes on 4 veteran seniors. They had played with the team for all four years of their High School careers, but had never seen a win. Coach Dan firmly believed that if they could be conditioned correctly, they could lead the team to victory. All his hopes rested on Cody, Aaron, Mike, and Chris.

Two weeks into the new school year and Dan’s hopes were crushed. Even with the 4 seniors the team seemed doomed to a pathetic season. Coach Dan trudged back to his office after another unsatisfying practice and nearly crashed in to a student walking around the corner. It was a senior that had just transferred into the school this year, he seemed to be kind of a loner, and no one really talked to him. Looking at him, Dan got the impression he didn’t mind.

“Oh sorry, kid.” Dan mumbled and tried to move the kid out of his way. The kid stuck out his hand for a shake.

“My fault sir, name’s Nick. How are you?” Just that easily. Dan shrugged and shook Nick’s hand. He responded something anxsty about his soccer team, and Nick listened patiently. Soon Dan was spilling his guts to Nick about the team. He paused for a moment and sighed.

“I just wish I could get them to play like I played when I was young.” Nick gave a knowing smile and an understanding nod.

“Well, if I may sir, I think I can help your team out….I’m very talented at assessing hindrances and turning them into assets.” Coach Dan stared down at the kid. Nick never stopped smiling. For some amazing reason he began to trust the new High School student, maybe it was something about the stars, or maybe he was really THAT desperate. For some reason he agreed. He immediately felt uneasy, but he’d given his word now.

“Great!” said Nick “I think all I’ll need to do is see those 4 seniors in room 403 at the beginning of practice tomorrow. Just send ‘em in and I’ll do the assessing.” He pivoted around and walked off, leaving Dan with the sinking feeling in his gut.


Cody was the first person to stroll into room 403. His eyes went immediately to Nick, casually writing in a notebook on the teachers desk. Nick glanced up and let the office chair roll back slightly as he smiled up at Cody. Cody came to the foot of the desk and immediately felt the intimidation of the positioning. He strolled to Nick’s side. Cody was the kind who pretty much talked to his friends and enemies the same way, 5’ 10” wiry muscle, native American, cocky as shit jock kind of talk. He liked to order people around, liked to have his way, Nick wasn’t impressed.

“So, Cody” he began rifling through some papers (Cody couldn’t tell if they were important or just for show). “Says here you play striker, how’s that working out for you?” Nick affixed to his face a pleasant inviting smile. Cody whisked his thumb over the corner of his mouth where his signature cocky grin was forming.

“Look dickwad, I dunno what the fuck you’re trying to get Danny-boy to pull, but I only came in here cuz I don’t want to go to practice, so keep the voodoo shit to yourself if you don’t wanna get hurt” He finished his sentence by sitting himself down on the corner of the desk and rifling through graded papers looking for his.

“You sound pretty cocky there, Cody. Surely you must have some kind of problem you’d like fixed.” The smile had turned slightly mischievous and a twinkle had come to Nick’s eye. Cody scoffed.

“My only problem” he said standing and pulling down his jean’s zipper “is finding a bitch brave enough to take my anaconda down here.” He groped at the bulge in his boxer briefs and thrust his hips out. He meant to go on. He meant to say something typically nasty about Nick, but at that very moment Nick, still grinning, reached a hand behind Cody’s ass and pulled the bulge into his mouth. Cody was stunned and continued staring off into space. Nick’s tongue worked its way around the fabric teasing the head outlined in the cotton. His hand held Cody forcefully, caressing and squeezing the tight ass through the jeans. Cody let out a small whimper as he felt his equipment start to expand. Nick seemed to take the whole bulge in his mouth a final time, then forcefully zipped up the pants, stood, guided Cody to the door (hand still on the jock’s ass) and gave him a playful spank before closing the door. He said something before the door closed, but Cody was still too dazed to understand it.


Mike was the next into the abandoned classroom, his gait was confident, the kind of guy who was jock through and through, but tried to fight with the characteristic cocky tendencies. He was pleasant enough, well built, deep eyes, firm handshake, and his jaw constantly worked itself around on the gum that seemed to always be in his mouth. They made boring small talk for a couple minutes, enough for Nick to see that he could control his cockiness enough to be amiable. Nick then launched right into the topic at hand.

“Mike, Coach Dan said that he thinks the team would function a lot better if you’d pass the ball. Apparently you’ll run it from one goal box to another through squads of defense when all of your teammates are open.” Mike remained poker faced as he slowly rubbed an ache in his pec. The speed of the gum chewing never slowed.

“Well…we haven’t won a game in years, I figure I’m the only one that can save us. If I pass the ball it’ll just be back to square one.”

“But half of the time you never even make it to the goal.”

Mike shrugged “All they need is me, I’m a one man show.”

A knowing smile “Thanks. That’ll be all.


Aaron and Chris came in together, as they both had to get going and the first two interviews had lasted longer than expected. Aaron was tall, really tall. Lanky, but muscular. He had the cute farm boy look to him (and a cute farm boy he was) and tended to dress conservatively and walk slightly hunched over to be closer to the people he was talking to. He played goalie and was pretty good at it, his lankiness made some more delicate moves a little more complicated. Chris was a little shorter than Nick, but filled out everywhere nicely. A spankable ass was probably his most noticeable feature, but he walked confidently too, so that his hard pecs and nipples pushed out on the fabric of his tight gray shirt. He was the star defense player, but often times just didn’t get the recognition he deserved.

These two finally proved to Nick that there was someone on the team worth giving a damn about. Both were good players, (not the best by far) and both were humble, honest, and seemed really willing to put up tremendous effort to help the team win. Nick needed only two minutes before sending them away, they would be the easiest change.

Coach Dan had heard some strange stories from the couple of Seniors he did talk to, Mike said it was pretty cryptic, but Cody looked embarrassed and startled when Dan asked him. All the students had gone home for the day and Dan was finishing up some work before leaving himself. He still felt anxious, Nick had said he would start work on improving the team tonight, then casually strolled out the door. At 6 Dan put his pen down, and rubbed his eyes. Man was he tired. He decided to go home. Walking down the hallway on his way out the building another teacher gave him a quick wave and Dan called out a ‘Goodbye’ after him. His voice echoed strangely in the empty hall, it sounded slightly higher and a little less gruff.

The ride home felt like it took forever, the few tired glances he gave to the rear-view mirror seemed to reveal that his face was nearly clean shaven where once the had been a coarse jaw-line beard and mustache. But he was so tired he barely noticed.

In the garage he stepped out of the car and felt his sport-shorts slide down to his knees. He stooped to quickly pull them back up uttering a curse. He felt horny as hell all of the sudden, but at the same time he was immensely tired. Reaching his bedroom he peeled off his sweat drenched shirt and let his shorts slide down his legs and off. And fell into bed wearing nothing but his boxers (which themselves had begun to sink down. Yawning he ran a hand over his hairy chest and absentmindedly squeezed his right nipple. The hair felt smoother. He dropped off to sleep.


Cody ate his dinner in silence that night, retreating to his bedroom without watching any T.V. he stripped slowly out of his tight shirt and jeans and looked at himself wearing his pink boxer briefs in the mirror. The saliva stains on the crotch of his underwear had faded, but Cody had been hard as a rock for the rest of the day, He flexed his pecs and abs in the mirror, watching the light six pack push up on the thin, soft treasure trail running down to his stiff dick. He rubbed his balls through the cotton, (pretending it was Nick’s mouth again) and rubbing the other hand up and down his little treasure trail (a habit he picked up since last month when the hair started growing). Underdeveloped as he was in actuality, he felt really manly. He hooked his hands under the waist band and slid the underwear down, collapsing onto his bed. He jacked his cock hotly, pretending with all his might it was someone’s lips wrapped around his shaft. After two minutes cum coated his hands, he sucked every last bit off his fingers. Naked, with his hand still on his deflating member, he fell asleep.


On the bus ride home Mike had felt his bladder burning. He could barely wait to get into the bathroom and take a leak. But as the bus ride went on he noticed it less and less. And by the time he went to bed that night didn’t feel like he had to take a piss in the slightest.

Cody’s eyes flew open, then immediately began to sink back closed. Barely turning his head he noticed the time: 5 a.m., time to get up for school. He lay spread out on his bed, hand still on his penis. The bed felt bigger, his head didn’t seem to sink into the pillow nearly as much. He arched his back with a defiant yawn, rubbing his balls. His soft, thin, pubic hair was gone. The skin above his dick felt completely smooth. He looked down frantically. In the dim light of the early morning the foot of the bed looked twice as far away as it should have. He began to panic. His frantic breaths came out in a high, whimpering tone. He sat up with a start and a high pitched scream erupted from his lips before he could stop it. He was hairless from head to toe, a thin little runt of 9 sitting in the middle of a seedy cum soaked bed that was four sizes too big for him. He padded quickly across the floor and ran into the bathroom. He had to stand on a stool to see into the mirror. It was the face of his 4th grade self staring aghast back at him. He was short at nine, shorter than most of the other 4th graders, he’d gotten picked on because of it. He now looked down his tanned hairless skin, big nipples for a little kid, small, puerile penis and felt tears come into his eyes. He tried to still feel like a man inside, but the tears streaming down his face and the girly sobs coming out of his mouth didn’t help. He tried to choke back the tears, clenched his little fists, screwed up his face, but the sobs just came out louder and more pathetic sounding than before. He rushed into the bedroom to bury his tear soaked face in a pillow, the big pillow, it still smelled like hair gel: the hair gel he used every morning to give him that ‘cool jock’ look. The mattress barely even gave to his weight. The ‘sexy pink’ underpants on the floor wouldn’t even start to fit him now. As the light in the room began to increase, he noticed a small bag sitting on the bedside table. It hadn’t been there last night. Inside was a note:


I’m afraid you are too much of a cock to be of any good to the team, yet.(The insult brought hot tears to his eyes and he let out a little sob) You have social problems worse than you soccer skills. I intend to correct both, I see where some of these social problems arose so I hope that taking you back there will help erase them. Enclosed in the bag you will find a gift to get you started.


At the top of the bag was a pair of little kid jeans in his new size, a simple red shirt, and a pair of mickey mouse underwear.


Aaron awoke with a cramp in his neck, he had kicked the sheets off the bed in the middle of the night, and his legs were (as usual) hanging over the side of the bed. His cock had flopped out of the slit in his boxers in the middle of the night, and he stuffed the meat back in. The light coming in the window seemed to glint off something on the wall in front of his bed. It was a mirror, covered for the most part by a large sheet of paper. Aaron strode over to the wall, (his hair brushing lightly on the overhead fan) there had never been a mirror there before. Whats more he didn’t have to stoop to look at it, it had been hung exactly at his height. The paper that obscured 2/3 of the glass read:


You are a spectacular person and a good player. You have the skills, but maybe you needed a little confidence. Wish granted! All the confidence in the world and the stuff to back it up too. You are one of the few people in the world who could handle such drastic measures, and here’s a gift to get you started.


Aaron read the note through twice before tearing it from the mirror. The face in the mirror was definitely his, but a little squarer, a lot harder, and the stubble was thick and coarse. He wasn’t lanky at all, every inch of his tall frame was huge, perfect, and hard. Head to toe he was hot as hell and for the first time in his life: he knew it. What he didn’t notice was that he no longer slumped at all, if people talked to him, they’d be looking up from now on. New stronger hands ran seductively over his new body, two fingers running through the coating of hair on his chest and teasing the nipples, then traveling down the ridges of an intense six pack. The other hands ran slowly down his new tight ass, running around his hard hairy thighs to meet with the other hand at his crotch. His cock began to expand out of the slit in his boxers. The duplicate in the mirror cast him a haughty, lustful smirk.

“Damn, I’m the hottest fucking stud in the whole fucking world.”


At his own house, Chris had just found a similar note next to his bed (only less about confidence and more about muscle) and was in the process of a loud rejoicing (his parents must have been deep sleepers or something). His new weight made the room shake as he jumped up and down making wooping noises. Chris too was now heavily muscled, not muscle freak, but just the right amount, total hunk. All of his shirts and jeans seemed super tight, but today he didn’t even care. They showed off every muscle, every fiber, every curve in ways Chris never thought possible. Being gay felt amazing with this much power in him. He tried on three or four shirts, noting how they just barely met the waist band of his pants, revealing about an inch of exposed abs with the hot treasure trail out in the open whenever he lifted his arms even slightly. He loved the feeling of taking the shirts off: peeling the tight fabric away from his heaving chest and taut stomach, he seductively pulled another polo shirt off of his body and swung it around his head, humping his hand passionately.

Jumping off the bed (where he was standing) he bounded shirtless over to the wall where hung a huge poster of a similarly shirtless Collin Farrel and French kissed the paper where Collin’s mouth was, pinning the hands to the wall roughly with his own meaty hands. Many a night Chris had dreamed of Collin Farrel fucking him, but then Chris had been looking for anyone to fuck him. Period. He even offered to service and get fucked by some twinkish kids half even his old size at school, but they hadn’t been gay and had nearly blown his cover. Finally settling on a shirt, Chris dug under the letter from Nicholas to find the small silver locket underneath. The note had said it was a ‘gift to get him started’, but the real gift would come later on. Chris happily slipped the locket into his pocket and left the room. •

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