Ahead of you in the locker room, you hear someone complain, "What's
wrong with my hands? They're all cramping up, I can't take my gear
off!"
"Me eith-haw!" brayed another.
Their were more worried voices of assent, and then some others.
"I think it's hot! Look how much bigger and hairier we are!" "Yeah,
have you noticed my bulge!" "Your bulge? Look at the whale I'm
sporting now, sport!" "Nice!" "Maybe if we can't undress with our
hands, we should use our teeth?" "How are you going to undress
yourself with your own teeth?" "That's not what I meant! I use my
teeth to help you out of your gear, and you use your teeth to help me
out of mine!" "Oh!" "I love your long pointy hairy ears, Brad, mind
if I lick you behind them?" "Ooh, gay love birds! Hahaha!" "Dude,
you're growing a tail!"
Harry spun around in front of you. You ran straight into his barrel
chest, and your bulges mashed together. Instantly you were both hard.
You find your heady masculine sweaty stench over powering. You embrace
and kiss.
"What's going on?" Zeb gasped behind you. "I used half as much on your
clothing as I did on the coach's?" He shook his head and disappeared
into his office.
A few minutes later he emerged from his office to find that the entire
team had literally become a team of donkeys. Horny, uninhibited gay
donkeys half dressed in blue latex football gear mounted one another
in an orgy of steamy sex.
Zeb surveyed the locker room, and grinned. "Sorry boys, I gave you
half the dose I gave the coach, but I failed to consider that you guys
are at the height of puberty with maximum testosterone output," he
said loudly, but no one seemed to pay attention, but that didn't stop
assistant coach Zeb from prattling on, "The rubber gear made you sweat
and allowed the rapid absorption of the special enhancement aid I
painted inside the gear. At your ages, the testosterone magnifies the
hormonally based donkey-juice. Anyway a half dose for an older gent is
actually about double what I should have given you. This explains why
you're so horny. I'll let you work out your energy for a few hours,
and then I have a solution."
Suddenly, a muzzle pushed Zeb in his shoulder. Powerful teeth locked
on the collar of his polo shirt. Soon the coach was shirtless locking
at a donkey wearing only a blue rubber jersey and holding his shirt in
its mouth. More donkeys surrounded Zeb. There was no denying the
lust in their eyes, or the gleaming dripping pricks sticking out of
their furry sheaths.
"Boys! Boys!" Zeb shouted.
A donkey bit his coach pants and ripped them. Another donkey grabbed
the loose torn fabric and finished the job sending coaching sprawling
on his back in only his red rubber jockstrap. There was plenty of
braying, and Zeb was torn by the ironic humor and the seriousness of
his situation. Zeb popped a major boner. He realize the heady male
donkeyman pheromones filling the locker room were having an effect on
him too.
He climbed on his back on the nearest bench, and instantly realized
his mistake as the donkeys nearest him pinned him in a spread eagle
fashion, and the naked except for a torn jersey with Harry's number on
it proceeded to advance on him to violate Zeb. The worst part was
that Zeb's initial terror was now tempered with excitement and desire.
He was a victim of his own hormonal magic, or was about to be.