Swim Coach's Special Training

By gayD

Published on Aug 1, 2024

Gay

And the story continues. But what is this crazy scene playing out in the office? With Stevie naked and the towel boy groping him, AND the coach taking photos? Was it to degrade Stevie, the champion swimmer? Was it to control him? Was it to embarrass him? Fuck, let's get to it.

As I mentioned, I have hundreds of stories on Gayties.com that are too raunchy to post here. So check them out there.

I have a four-chapter outline constructed, but I would like your comments about this story as I develop it. Write to me at gaydic@gmail.com. Thanks, and enjoy!

Swim Coach's Special Training

Part 2 of 4

The office quieted down as the spectators left. But what was the thing about Denton, the towel boy, fucking with high school swim team hero Stevie Tanner, molesting him, and creating Stevie's monster bouncing boner to be publicly displayed?

This was not planned. The coach had little to do with this. However, as it organically developed, prompted mostly by Denton's infatuation with this swimming star, it helped excellent the coach's program to control, use, and abuse him.

Head coach Jim Harlan was a good young man of about 35 and was one of a dozen members of a fetish group who enjoyed creating and controlling human puppies. The members would seek out handsome, sexy lads to transform into play toys for their private and sometimes public activities. We all seem to idolize swimmers, specifically the swimmer's sexy build. So Tanner was prime meat. In one way or another, they used coercion to bring these hunks along and to have them submit to their dehumanizing descent into behaving like dogs or, as they referred to them, puppies.

So, without orchestrating Denton's photo session, it worked out quietly well. Tanner received a good dose of public humiliation but had a long way to go.

It was back to the serious publicity photos that Coach wanted with Stevie Tanner in the new and very skimpy swimsuit. "Harry, let's get some shots anyway, even if he is naked. We've been wasting too much of this young man's time. Once we see which of these shots work, we can repeat them when Denton manages to find his tiny little dick warmer suit."

"OK, Tanner, listen up. We're going to take a few memorable photos of you. First, I want you to face away from me, feet wide apart, bend way, way over, grab your ankles, and bring your cute, adorable puppy face down between your legs to smile back at the camera." Stevie had a look of resistance on his face. "Then I want you to stick your hungry, wet puppy tongue way out like you're begging me for a treat."

Stevie Tanner was in total shock, looking at his Coach with a blank stare, trying to process what he thought he had heard because what he thought he heard he saw was not going to do -- no way. He had regained his senses. He realized he had been creeped out. But thoughts of his coveted position on the swim team, his wonderful, loving girlfriend, Sophia, and his respect for his family, especially his dad, came back to him.

"Tanner, now don't worry. I know what you are thinking, but listen up, pup. I phoned your dad this morning. He, too, was worried about your next year's college tuition fees and told me he can't afford any costs like that."

Stevie's head was spinning, and his stomach was queasy. Confused and trembling, he tried to speak up, "My dad? You spoke with..." Stevie's voice trailed off.

"Your dad's a great guy. Isn't he?" Stevie nodded his head. "He must have been teary-eyed when I told him not to worry about next year's costs because I will take good care of our little swimmer boy. Yes, Sir, but I gave him a serious warning, `As long as your son follows my personal training program and obeys all my rules, he will have another scholarship next year too, and maybe for all four years.'" Everyone knew they were talking about $20,000 a year. Wow!

"Four years of scholarships?" Stevie echoed.

"Yeah, that's right. Then your daddy mentioned that you go home on weekends. Well, I just flat out asked him if it would be OK that you do not go home for a while because I intend to take personal control over your training, and you'll be pretty much tied up in my very special training sessions."

"Don't go home?"

"Your daddy thanked me repeatedly, pleading with me, saying stuff like, `Please do whatever you need to do with my Stevie, please... I don't want my boy to have to drop out next year... I can't afford his schooling without your annual scholarships. He needs a determined Coach like you... Please. You have my full permission... I appreciate all you are doing and going to do for my son.'"

"Then I told your dad not to worry, I like your son. He has a lot of potential. I can turn him into something extraordinary.' Then I hesitated, like a new thought just occurred to me, and I told him, I'll tell you what. I'd be willing to go out on a limb here for you and offer to manage your son's scholarship funds. That way, we can be assured he'll toe the line.' Your dad was so fucking happy. He asked me to send him all the necessary paperwork so he could authorize my financial control of you, starting immediately. Isn't that great?"

"But... but... I can manage my own...." Stevie tried to interrupt.

"You can't even manage your own clothes? You let that bitch secretary run off with them, didn't you, pup?" Stevie just absentmindedly nodded in agreement. "Besides, you'd spend that money all wrong. Wouldn't you, pup? I know what's right for you. I know what you need."

"But I can manage all ..."

"I'm telling you, pup, you would never have thought about buying yourself a nice studded, black leather dog collar, would you?"

"A black studded dog?"

"Or how about a shiny chain leash? Would you have thought of that? Can you say, No, Sir?" Stevie was in a daze; he just shook his spinning head in agreement.

"No, I said, can you say, `No, Sir?'" The coach was adamant. Stevie was thinking this was all a bad dream. His mind was in a fog.

"Snap to it, pup, I said. Can you say, `No, I would have never thought about buying myself a nice chrome chain leash?'" Stevie was silent.

"Of course not. However, lucky you, I have arranged for all your needs. It's final."

Stevie Tanner stood with his mouth open. He heard the coach, but he was trying to figure out what the fuck he was talking about.

" Shame about your daddy's accident and his wheelchair thing... Anyway, here's the deal: you play ball with me, and I'll see you get a full, four-year scholarship and become a champion swimmer to boot. I talked your dad into - tricked him, actually - to put me in charge of all your finances. Your name remains on all your accounts, but only I can access them. It'll be all signed and legal. So, all you need to do is behave." Stevie was stunned and started to feel dizzy - sick to his stomach, really. He could not believe the Coach was manipulating his entire world, crashing it.

"Fuck, pup. You'd just waste those funds anyway. Why ... you'd use it to go to fancy restaurants and have expensive dinner dates. Wouldn't you?" His coach added, "And what about those dates? You'd spend - I mean waste -- a lot of money on girls. Wouldn't you? You don't even realize you have no time to date girls. Huh? I tell you, you are so lucky to have me organizing your life. By the way. Are you dating anyone now?"

Finally, a question he could answer. A positive, upbeat question in which he could finally express himself on a normal subject. He snapped right into his up-lifting response, "Oh, yes, Sir! Sophia and I have been dating for six months; she is the neatest, kindest, most beautiful young woman I have ever met. She thinks I'm handsome and that... well... we are planning on..."

"Sorry," Coach interrupted both Stevie's response and his big smile, "I'm putting the kibosh on your Sophia. No time for her and anyone else."

"But Sophia and I are going to get..."

"Get nothing. Before you leave here today, after we are finished, you'll call Sophia and tell her you suddenly figured out that you are queer, a fucking pansy, a homo cunt. You're ..."

"But, Sir, that's not true. I can't. I won't. I'm not ..."

"Do you think I was kidding about inviting your dad over here to watch your... ah... training? Really? Or, to make it easier on him, I might just video you -- which I was planning on doing anyway -- and send him a video of you in your new dog outfit, eating dog food out of a dog dish, wagging your fucking black rubbery dido dog tail. Really? And he'll see just how well his son dog bitch, sucks cock and gets fucked."

"Ah... but... but... but... I ..."

"Your dad shared something with me. He mentioned that he could not work because he had a heart condition. It's very recent. Did you know about that?" This was not true. Coach just made it up for more leverage.

"A heart condition?"

"Yeah. I can just see your poor old, loving dad, sitting in his wheelchair, watching a video I sent to him titled, `Stevie Tanner, New Homo Dog Gets Fucked on Campus.' Look at me!" Coach ordered. "I'm not kidding!"

"Stop, please, just stop. I`ll do it. I'll break it off with Sophia. I promise." Stevie was practically in tears, but in the back of his mind, after he had finished whatever the coach wanted from him, with him, he would tell Sophia it was all a big misunderstanding. He'll break it off by telling her he needed his space to concentrate on swimming and could not see her for a while. Hopefully, this special training will only last for a month or two. So, he'll say he was sorry. She'd find that OK.. a month or two. The coach doesn't need to know the details. "Yes, Coach, I'll stop seeing her."

"Not good enough. What's her number?" Coach Jim Harlan said as he pulled out his cell.

"Why? I'll call her later, Coach."

What's her number?" Stevie reluctantly gave it to him.

As Coach dialed the number, "Remember, you are going to tell her you just realized that you are a homo, a faggot, and a pussy cunt. And that you now have a new boyfriend. And you can't see her anymore. Tanner, you have this one and only chance to be this specific. Got it." The phone was ringing, and Coach handed it to him.

He got her answering machine, then, "Sophia," Stevie started to cry, overwhelmed with humiliation. "I... I need to tell you something. I... found out that I am... I am... I'm gay."

Immediately, Coach shook his head sternly, "Better stick to the script as ordered, boy, or else."

He was sopping openly now, "Sophia, I'm a faggot, a cunt, and pussy." He cried into the phone. His sobbing tears actually made him sound truthful. "And I have a new boyfriend. I can't see you anymore. I am so, so sorry." Then, without hanging up, he just handed the phone back to his Coach.

"Wise move and a great performance." Coach ended the call. "Now wipe your eyes and settle down." Coach gave him a minute to recover. "I know it was tough for you, but you saved your dad. And I promise we won't bring your dad into this again if you behave. This is after he signs the papers, which gives me complete control of your college funds as well as your personal accounts." Coach smirked.

"So, I'll handle your funds, including your free spending money. I'll have it all. So, no Sophia and no other girls. I don't even want you to socialize with girls, or with guys for that matter. Restaurants are too expensive for you, pup. A good can of dog food has all the protein you need. By the way, do you prefer chicken-based or fish-based canned dog food? Or... maybe we'll try the dry kibble. It's a lot cheaper. But... never mind that now. I'll see what there is at the pet store tomorrow."

Turning abruptly to his assistant, "Harry, make a note to remind me to get pup a doggie dish, the collar, and leash. Oh, yes, and for fun, pup here needs a chew toy. See if they have a dildo-shaped one."

Though light-headed, it was all sinking in, bit by bit, into Stevie's brain. "Sir, I can't ... I don't think ... My dad can... he wouldn't... I... I ..." He stopped himself. A tear came down his cheek as he realized that his coach owned him. His father, who he loved so much for all his self-sacrificing efforts to keep his family fed, was unwittingly sealing his fate.

"Oh, stop with all the drama crap, pup. At school, you'll be the star of the swim team. And at home... Oh, did I mention that I am not going to waste your scholarship funds on those expensive dorm fees? So, you'll be moving in with me."

Turning back to Harry, "Better add a doggie bed to your pet supply list. Don't want a pup to sleep on the cold floor." He and Harry chuckled as Harry wrote down everything Coach told him.

All of Stevie's fond images of a sociably enjoyable college life were quickly fading away. The coach spoke again, "Hey, cheer up, you'll be my little toy stud puppy... isn't this great! Think about how much you will please your dad when he sees you as a champion swimmer. No tuition, no worries, no decisions to make. Isn't that wonderful? Go ahead, pup, say, `Yes, Sir.'"

Instead, Stevie mumbled, more to himself, "No decisions? ... Ah ... doggie bed?"

"Razor blades, I'll need a large supply of those disposable blades to get all that hair off of him, Harry. I mean, except for school use, you won't need to wear any clothes at home. So, you want me to look at that hairy body of yours? Do you, pup? God! A little pussy pup with manly hair around your dick and balls, now that's a laugh! But don't worry, I'll train you to shave your body every other day from the neck down. Harry," the Coach nearly shouted, "He'll also need a large hand mirror so he can see to shave the crack of his ass. Can you say thank you, `Thank Sir'?

"Thank you?"

"Better learn the proper slave lingo, pup. That's `Thank you, Sir.' And with an exclamation point in your voice. OK, pup?"

"Thank you, Sir," he finally barked as told. He felt sick to his stomach.

"Maybe we'll try the permanent hair removal cream; well... I'll figure that out later. I'll take care of you. Don't worry."

Stevie was in a dream-like state, faintly shaking his head, but said nothing aloud. So the Coach again looked at Harry, "He's going to need a metal cage for when he needs discipline. I mean, what if I have my puppy club buddies over, and pup here forgets how a dog is supposed to prance around naked on all fours, happily wiggling his butt."

Coach added, "Oh, yes, a butt plug doggie tail. Yes!" Coach smiled, happy with himself for thinking of the needed dog tail. "I'll train you to greet my guests by eagerly sniffing everyone's dick or asshole." Coach then motioned to Stevie, "Get down on all fours and wiggle your ass as if you had a tail. Remember, the more you sniff dicks and asses, the happier you'll be, and the more enthusiastically you'll wag your tail when you get one shoved up your pooch asshole. So let me see you wiggle your ass."

Stevie was on the floor, shaking his ass, but it was awkward. He tried doing it in different ways, but he found it challenging.

Harry interjected. "Maybe if he just wiggled his ass from side to side instead of all around."

"Try that, pup," Coach told him.

Stevie did. It worked better, but not up to Coach's standards. "Well, that's why you have me to train you to do it right. Don't worry about it; we'll work on the wagging. You know, all these things take time."

"I think he'll be a fast learner. Tanner's pretty sharp at picking up new swimming techniques," Harry added.

"Of course, he will be." Then Coach thought, "Maybe I'll host a summer pool party for my Puppy Club, and pup can demonstrate how he learned to pee by lifting his leg and hosing down the Elm tree trunk in my backyard."

Stevie was still in a head-spinning haze. He was totally weirded out. He could not absorb all that was being said. The Coach stared at Stevie seriously to encourage him to develop the proper submissive attitude. But Stevie just stared into space. Without turning his glaring stare away from Stevie, he told Harry, "Let's add a flogger and a hardwood handball paddle to that list. Pup may need his bubble butt warmed and red to help him learn faster." The Coach was holding back nothing to convince Stevie to comply.

"I know what would be cool," Coach said thoughtfully, "I can invite your sweet daddy over to one of my special club parties with my buds. I can toss a large dildo across the room and have you fetch it, running on all fours and wagging your tail when you pick it up. This way, your dad can see how well your ... ah ... `training' is coming along, especially when you shove it up your fagot asshole, all without any prompting from me, of course."

Stevie stood there, physically drained and defeated. In a barely audible whisper, he said, "Please?"

"Please? Please, what, pup? Please let you be my stud puppy. Please don't involve your daddy. Please continue with the photo shoot. Is that it, pup? Is that what you want?"

"Yes, Sir," was all the defeated naked boy said as he stared blankly at his owner.

"Good pup. Well then... if that's what you want ... go ahead... come on, pup, get into the proper position, as I told you." Stevie then turned his back to his coach, spread his legs wide apart, bent over, and grabbed his ankles. Looking back at the camera, he displayed his frowning face between his legs.

"OK, OK... but that's not quite right, pup. First, spread your legs wider." He did as he was told, staying in the bent-over position. "Now, instead of grabbing your ankles, reach behind you and put one hand on each ass cheek and pull those honey buns apart so we can see your pussy hole." Stevie just stood bent over, looking between his legs at his upside-down coach, not letting go of his ankles.

"What's wrong, pup? Don't you know how to grab your cheeks and pull them apart? You need someone to assist you in displaying your pretty little rosebud fuck hole?" Without waiting for any response from Stevie, the coach reached over to the intercom again and pretended to press the button. He leaned his head to it and spoke loudly,

"Mrs. Walters, I'm going to need your assistance in here... It seems that Tanner needs help spreading his..." That's all it took for Stevie to whimper, "Oh, please, no," immediately. "Not now, not her. Oh, fuck! With me like this? Look. Look, Sir, I'm doing it all by myself." He quickly grabbed his ass cheeks and pulled them wide apart. The coach was pleased but wanted to be assured the school's swim champion would fully comply. The Coach stalled, then he leaned over to the intercom again, "Hold on, Mrs. Walters, one moment..."

"That's better, pup, but not exactly what I asked for, is it? Did you forget about the smile and the tongue thing?" Stevie cocked his head at an angle to the right and forced himself to make a big, stupid-looking, red-faced grin as he stared back at the camera between his thighs. Then, without further prompting, he stuck out the long, wet tongue and made panting sounds. Stevie cocked his head back to the left and then to the right and stuck his tongue out as for as possible, panting and praying that his coach would not ask the secretary to come into the office again.

He pleaded between his brief dog-panting displays, "Please. Sir, please. Start taking photos." More panting, "Yes, Sir, please begin now. Can you see my fuck hole pussy, OK, Sir?" More exaggerated panting as he tried to convince the coach he was now with the program. "Woof, woof. Oh, please, God. Am I positioned correctly to please you, Sir?" There was louder panting now. "Oh fuck, Sir, I don't need any assistance. I'm ready now, Sir. Please, photograph me as you want?"

Satisfied with this stage of Stevie's submission, the Coach continued his fake intercom call as he leaned over it again, "Never mind, Mrs. Walters, the problem resolved itself." And to Harry, he said, "You can scratch off the flogger, but leave the paddle on the list, just in case." Yes, Stevie was showing submission, but the coach knew he had a long way to go to complete his humiliating descent into a total doggie whore.

The coach stood back, taking it all in. He asked Harry to take over the photo shoot so he could watch it unfold. He smiled broadly as he told Stevie, "Yes, I think that will do nicely. OK, Harry, click away." And Harry did. The Coach sat down at the desk, took out an empty envelope, and started to write on it, speaking to Stevie simultaneously, "Oh ... and pup, don't worry about your clothes. In about an hour, when all the students flood the lobby as they leave their classes, you will go out into that lobby as naked as you are now to Mrs. Walters' desk and ask her for your clothes. Second, you will ask her if you may get dressed right there in public view by the side of her desk."

Stevie, whimpering, crying, making a big forced clownish smile, all at the same time, pleaded in his bent-over position, "But ... Sir, I'll be good, please ... not out there. See, I'm a good pup. I'll be good. Woof, woof. See Sir? I can dress in here, please?" Then he added more panting as the camera flashed repeatedly.

"Well, at least you're off on the right foot ... or should I say, the `right paw,'" the coach said confidently. "Oh yes, pup and you'll soon learn to obey me without question or hesitation. You see, I just addressed an envelope to your poor, sick, crippled daddy. I even put a stamp on it. As soon as I get these photos printed, AND the photos of you all boned up kiss the towel boy, I'll place a good half dozen in there and seal it up. I'm this powerful, ready-to-mail envelope in plain sight in our home. It will be your constant reminder that at any time you hesitate to obey me, I will fucking mail it." Then he thought, "No, I won't mail it. Instead, I'll give it to you, drive you naked to a mailbox, and have YOU drop it in! Do you fucking get it!?"

Then the coach stared at Stevie, "Now, I am fucking sure you will be totally delighted to get your naked bitch ass out there and dress in the lobby!"

Stevie immediately barked in agreement with a loud and clear, "Yes, Sir!"

To be continued....

What a fucking shit this coach is. Ready to contact Stevie's crippled dad to tell him.... What? Would he actually do it? No. That can't be true! Absolutely not! No one can be that cruel.

Next: Chapter 3


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