You get off the bus and start heading to first period with Dom. You take a seat in the back of the class, then your teacher Mrs. Thomas begins going over a lecture about sine graphs and something about pi. Math was never your favorite, but you were good at it. You stare into space and begin pondering what the hell that experience was. Does it mean that you're afraid of getting older? Do you need to spend more time with your dad? Are you just a horny gay teen? You let your mind wander and begin to nod off.
You jolt awake after losing your balance and shake your head. Your vision is blurry and you feel disoriented noticing that things seem wildly different. Looking around you can tell that you're sitting at a metal desk in a room with windows on 3 of the four walls. On the desk sit papers, a clipboard, and a cheap desktop computer. As your vision mostly clears, you look out the waist-high windows and realize that you are in the Coach's office in the boys' locker room. No one seems to be around. You look again at the desk, but your hands catch your eye instead. They look entirely different. Your hands are thick and meaty with heavy fingers and a few wrinkles. Their skin is rough and textured unlike the soft, smooth skin you are accustomed to. Your nails are cut short and stubby. Flipping your hands over you find rough calluses. These work hardened hands were certainly not yours.
Panicked and confused, you begin to stand up from the seat and nearly fall over. You feel strange and heavy, and the fact that the ground is further away than usual is giving you vertigo. Gripping the chair, you steady yourself for a few seconds until you gain a sense of equilibrium. Around the room are two metal file cabinets, a large black duffel bag, and big white tennis shoes, and for whatever reason a thin body length mirror. Whilst heading over to the mirror, you brace yourself for the result. In the mirror is not yourself, but Coach Lucas. You pinch yourself hoping that this is again some kind of strange dream but feel every ounce of pain.
Coach Henry Lucas was, in your opinion, the only attractive adult on campus. He was in his mid-forties, and had been a fit guy in his youth. He wasn't fat, but he was certainly thicker and less defined than he used to be. Not fat, but beefy. Lucas might have had a small paunch, but he was still in good shape. The moment you saw him in sophomore year, you knew that you were attracted to men like him. At 6'4" you couldn't help but blush when he looked at you. He coached football and taught three P.E. classes. Everyone on campus respected him, not only was he attractive but he was nice too. You knew that a few of your female teachers and one of your male teaches had silly little crushes on him. He was a really charming guy.
You look into your new eyes and note their crystal blue hue. They are bright and contrast your masculine heavy eyebrows. Your cheekbones sit high on your face with an angular sculpted look. Your lips are thin, and your nose is slightly crooked. Your hair is medium brown and styled into a precise, perfect, and clean side-part. Lucas in one of 50% of men who isn't losing his hair as he grows older. You look down at your arms and notice a moderate coating of dark hair on your forearms. Your biceps are nice and thick, they even stretch the fabric of your gray t-shirt slightly.
Coming to your senses for a moment, you realize you need to figure things out really quickly. You run over to look at the coach's clipboard to see what his schedule is. Luckily he's written it down on his planner from the first few weeks of class. He doesn't have a class until third period, so you've got some time to figure things out. You leave the office and the locker room and start walking through the halls towards your class. You almost jump when you see another teacher, but she just waves at you. You make it the door and do your best to peak in the window. No one notices you and you can see Mrs. Thomas still going over the same lecture. In the back you can see Dom goofing off. To his left is your own body entirely passed out. From the outside, your body looks so small and young. You get dizzy for a moment as you realize the extent of this dissociative out-of-body experience. You calm down and realize that this could be the best experience of your life. Your class won't be over for another hour and a half because it was an upper level math class that took up two periods, and no one would wake you up because Mrs. Thomas had a rule about kids who sleep in class punishing themselves. You practically run back to the locker room as your heartbeat quickens with excitement.
You step back into Coach's office and quickly lower the blinds on the windows just in case. Walking over to the mirror, you admire the beauty of Coach Lucas again. You notice a small scar on your right cheek that you missed before. It just served to compliment your masculine face. You look down at your chest and practically rip your shirt off. It gets stuck for a moment because it's tucked into your shorts, but you manage to get it off. In the mirror, you are greeted with Coach's entirely bare torso. Your chest is thick and strong, with the perfect dusting of hair. Your nipples are red, puckered, and bigger than you expected. Your stomach is built like a column, and you can tell that a lot of muscle sits in it despite its lack of definition. You have a big trail of hair leading down into your shorts. Your gaze shifts to your legs, which are thick and meaty. You smack your hands onto the sides of one thigh and shiver at the heaviness you feel. They aren't as hairy as you expected them to be. You look at your green nylon shorts that stop about mid-thigh and start breathing heavily as reach your thumb into the elastic waistband. You slowly pull them down and reveal his pristine white Jockstrap. Throwing the shorts aside, you admire the realization of your wildest fantasies in the mirror; coach Lucas nude except for his jockstrap and socks. You turn to the side and stare at your perfectly round, meaty ass. You take your hand and grip that mass and squeeze and jiggle this beautiful man's butt. The jockstrap wraps around and frames your new ass perfectly. Turning back to the front, you look at the pouch and can tell that you're packing. All the excitement has already given you a chub, but you can tell that coach isn't joking around. You thumb the waistband for a moment as the anticipation is just too great. Building up the courage, you finally pull it open and reach in. You meet the monster in Coach's pants, and your heart skips a beat. You pull it out and examine your ill gotten gains. You couldn't believe the beauty. It was beer can thick, uncut, and long as hell. All three of which, were entirely the opposite of your own. You had a heavy set of thick nuts sitting underneath as well. Coach's pubes are shaved except for a small patch above his dick. You take your finger and trace the head, shivering in response to the stimulation. You drop your jockstrap and step out. In the mirror you can see coach entirely naked except for his socks with a rock hard erection sticking out and curving slightly up. You almost come at the sight, but use your newfound strength to stop yourself. You grip your gargantuan cock and begin slowly stroking, relishing the lush feeling of masturbation with foreskin. Every brush and stroke sends shock-waves through your body as you watch yourself, or Coach, jack off in the mirror. As your hand slides up and down your newly acquired length, your balls swing pendulously back and forth. You grab them with your other hand and feel the heaviness contained in your massive scrotum. You remove that hand and start feeling around every inch of this body. You move across your thighs, stomach, and chest until you reach your nipples and find some stimulation that Coach's body really enjoys. You begin pulling and prodding all the while inching closer and closer to climax. You feel the pressure building within you until it all comes to a moment of complete euphoria, as you shoot your load thickly all across the mirror in seven shots. You revel in the afterglow for a moment, watching your come slowly drip down the mirror. Sitting back down in the chair at the desk, you take in stock and figure out what you need to do next.