The Pine Gulch Motel, Room Seven (Part 2)

“Oh fuck, fuck yeah…” Marcus moaned.

“First though, why don’t we pause for a moment—I’m not sure my co-star quite understands his motivation yet,” the coach said.

Without warning, the tape paused, the telltale flickers appearing on the edge and top of the screen—except the coach was still moving. Billy though, was frozen in place, tongue out in mid lick. The coach stepped away, leaving Billy frozen in place like a statue, and looked out at Marcus through the screen.

“How…how are you doing this?” Marcus managed to ask, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to peel his face away from his rank pit, or his hand away from his cock. “Please, just…just let us go.”

“Let you go? Why would I go and do a thing like that?” the coach asked, “More importantly, why would you want a thing like that? Don’t you want to see the rest of the movie? Don’t you want to watch this nasty jock pig worship my filthy body, before I fuck his hole raw, right here in the locker room? Are you telling me that doesn’t interest you at all?”

“N-No!”

“See, your mouth says one thing, but your cock there, it says something else. Look at how much it’s leaking! It’s real excited by the possibility, and I think the rest of you will come around soon enough. Maybe…maybe you’re just still too sympathetic to this young man. Maybe he’s still too…recognizable for you. I understand, familiarity can put a damper on arousal at times. I do think the young man needs a new look. It’s too…realistic, you know? Porno needs fantasy, it needs the taboo, or it just doesn’t quite cut it, especially for a practiced perv like you, Marcus. Why don’t we see if we can make this young man a proper jockpig, eh?”

Again, there was a flicker of interference that obscured Billy from view on the screen, and when it cleared, the young man that was frozen on the screen was not the Billy that Marcus remembered. Sure, there were a few familiar features, but the scruffy hair and beard, the thick chest and wide arms that could only really be that big with the help of steroids—and the singlet. The clean wrestling singlet he’d been wearing was now stained with sweat, the crotch ripped open, revealing the young man’s erect cock—smaller than his coach’s, but that’s alright. After all, the pig loved getting fucked much more than he loved fucking, and his coach could fuck better than anyone he’d ever met. He was hairier as well, all over, with big, clumsy hands, and broad feet. “What—what did you do to him?”

“I told you—I made him a jockpig. I didn’t think you’d have blasted your brains out of your cock already.”

“But how did you do that! Change him back!”

“Why would I do a thing like that? After all, he’s so much sexier now, don’t you think? A stupid, horny jockpig, who wants nothing more than to get his snout in his coach’s pits, and raise that ass so I can fuck his stinking hole with my big dick. Now—why don’t we get on with the show? We don’t have all night, after all.”

The coach moved back into position, with the newly changed Billy’s tongue pressed to his pit, and the tape clicked, returning to play. Billy kept licking the coach’s pit, more fervently than before, then fell to his knees, pulled down the coach’s shorts, revealing a sweat stained jockstrap that he shoved his nose into and snorted. “Fuck coach, ya smell better ‘n any fucker I’ve ever met,” he said.

“Billy—Billy! You have to fight it, you have to stop it!” Marcus said, and Billy looked around for a moment, confused, before the coach wrapped a hand around the back of his head and pulled him back to his crotch.

“I’m afraid it’s much too late for that,” the coach said, looking out at Marcus, “there’s nothing you can do to help him. He’s mine now—and you’re ours too. Be a good little perv and jack that cock off for me. Blow that big load of yours—you must be close by now. Maybe…you need a close up?”

The camera zoomed in on the coach’s jockstrap as Billy licked and sucked on it, and the smell hit Marcus through the screen. He could smell it—and it smelled amazing. He couldn’t stop himself from crawling closer, pressing his face to the glass, sniffing and licking at it himself, while the coach laughed. “The jockpig get the real thing—all you get to do, you fuckin’ perv, is watch, and wish. This is hot—but boring. Let’s skip ahead a bit—I know you’ll like this part.”

The tape clicked, and began speeding through the scene, and clicked again after a few seconds. Now, Billy was on all fours on a bench in the locker room, the coach behind him, fucking the jockpig’s hole while the young man moaned. The ass of the young man’s singlet had been ripped open as well, and this close to the screen, Marcus could almost smell that too.

The scene flipped, now he was looking from the other side, at both of their faces while the coach fucked Billy—and now, Billy’s eyes focused in on him, and Marcus recoiled from the screen a bit. “Fuck, now this is a hot fuckin’ coach, right?” Billy said, “Way hotter than you ever were. All you had to do was ask, you know. I was gay, I was only pretendin’ so the others wouldn’t know. Even had a crush on ya, a bit, but fuck, that was before I met this fucker! His cock feels so fuckin’ good, and now, he’s gonna fuck me over, and over, and over, and over again, and you’re gonna watch it, aren’t you? Cause you could only ever watch, only fantasize about it. Go on, shoot, you fuckin’ pervert. I wanna watch ya spray that load all over yourself!”

He could hear the coach’s voice too, quieter, speaking through Billy himself, but fuck, if that hadn’t driven Marcus wild. He tried to stop it, but he couldn’t—he exploded, shooting a massive load of cum out of his cock, and as he did, he saw everything flicker and shudder, pause for a moment, a huge glob of cum inches from his face, then resuming and splattering across his cheek. He shuddered a few times, a few more gouts of cum shooting out, and when he could focus his eyes, he looked up at the screen, where one of his favorite old pornos was still playing.

The coach would keep fucking the young pig for a few more minutes, before seeding him deep in his ass. Then, he’d make the young pig eat out his own hole, while the camera caught a glimpse of the coach’s load leaking down the young pig’s crack and down his thighs. Fuck, that was a hot scene too, but he always seemed to loose his load here in the middle. He looked at the young, filthy pig for a few moments, certain, for some reason, that he should recognize him from somewhere. He knew him from the video, but had never found another film with him in it, some guy who only went by the stage name Billy. Marcus kept stroking, watching the rest of the film to the end, but didn’t feel excited enough to milk out a second load. Besides, the night was still young, and he had more tapes to watch, didn’t he?

He ejected the tape from the VCR. Something in the back of his mind told him it should come out blank, but instead, there was now masking tape down the front, with the title of the porno written on it—“Wrestling with Coach Raunch.” He stared down at it, and slotted it in with the other tapes there which were still blank, and tried to sort out what he was thinking. What he was remembering. There was something he was forgetting, something important. Why was he here, at this motel? He’d been with someone, with someones. Students? Everything was fuzzy, but he could remember a van, young voices, snow, stopping for the night. Getting horny. Putting on his one of his favorite pornos to blow off some energy before bed.

Looking down at his greasy cock, it hadn’t helped much. He could smell the fresh cum on him, mixing in with his stink, and that was enough to have him hard again already—but then again, he was pretty much always hard, wasn’t he? He should shower, wash some of this mess off, but why bother—he’d just get filthy again soon enough, and didn’t he like being sweaty and smelly? Fuck, he wish he had a hot wrestler like Billy around to lick him clean, and service his cock like that hot Coach Raunch. Hadn’t…hadn’t he been a coach?

That helped something click into place, that thought. He’d been a coach. He’d been like Coach Raunch, a wrestling coach! He’d had three students with him in the van, they were next door, or had it been four? No—three, he could remember three for sure. He should check on them, make sure they were ok. He went for the door to the motel room, only for something strange to happen as he reached for the handle. It looked like a burst of static, there in the room, and when it disappeared—the door was gone! It was just a blank wall. He looked towards the window, and after another burst, it too disappeared, leaving him trapped in the motel room, with no way of even seeing outside it.

“Come on, Marcus. You can’t leave yet—you have more videos to see, don’t you? Don’t you want to watch some more? We know you love to watch…”

He spun around at the sound of the voices, some he swore he could recognize, others he didn’t, which had come from the flickering TV behind him. His gaze was drawn to the static, and he couldn’t help himself, stumbling forward, getting down on his knees before the screen, picking out one of the blank tapes and sliding it into the VCR. After a new moments, a new video began, and he looked to see what, and who, was on the screen this time.