The Fighting Spirit
I tried to hide in the corner as the bigger football players got into their uniforms. It was the last match of the season, and I hadn't gotten out of a single game unscathed yet. Sure, I was more than big enough to be on the team, but I was still noticeably smaller than anyone else, which made me The Runt, even if I was 250# and taller than most of the teachers.
And of course I couldn't be The Runt without being pranked.
Every. Single. Game.
Usually it was something annoying but harmless, like the time they transplanted my locker to the ladies' room while I was in the showers, but there were worse times - the one that still keeps me paranoid to this day was the time they'd put Tanson's tarantula in my jock.
So I hid in the corner, double-checking everything as I changed into my gear.
As I shook each piece of clothing out, hoping to catch any insects or itching powder that might have been deposited, I tried to subtly keep my eyes on Kevin, across the room.
Not that I suspected Kevin of anything. He had never been involved in the pranking, so far as I could tell; in fact he was the one I could usually depend on to tell me what flagpole my shorts were on top of this week. Heck, he was the only one on the team who actually called me Luis instead of Runt. No, what I was really watching him for was that smile, that hair, those curves... a hundred little things about him that the team must never, _ever_notice me noticing.
He might've caught me looking, every now and then, but he just smiled and never said anything.
And then my view was interrupted by Coach Stockton, who barged into the locker room and blew his whistle for everyone's attention.
"All right, listen up, chumps! We've lost far too many games this season, and from the way I've seen you practicing, I didn't really have much hope for today. So I brought you all something to give you a leg up on the competition."
He pulled out a couple of six-packs of a drink I didn't recognize. "What's this?" asked Carver, who'd reached out to take a can. It didn't_seem_ like any illegal, against-the-rules drug that would get us an unflattering article in the papers if we were found out. The cans were very plainly labeled; they were white with "STOCKY" on them in big black letters with a thick underline.
"Well, I've been producing this stuff at home - my own special blend. Don't look at me that way, Johanssen, you can't imagine I make enough to pay the bills the way you boys play."
Carver was still looking the drink over. It didn't have any ingredients listed, or any indication as to what it might taste like. "So... it's an energy drink of some kind?"
"More or less," the coach said. "Brings out the fighting spirit, I say. Come on, we haven't got all day. One for each of you, and two for you, Runt, you need it more than anyone."
My cheeks reddened as he tossed me two cans, and I opened one up, drinking it down in time with the others.
The flavor was... very strange. It wasn't sweet or sour or bitter like ordinary drinks; and no, it wasn't salty either - it was a weird, savory flavor.
Not bad, I thought.
I noticed the coach was watching us all with more than his usual interest, as though worried we might turn into blueberries. As I started chugging down the second can, I heard him mutter "Probably none of them even have the fighting spirit..."
There was a quick sharp yelp from the other side of the room, and I looked to see Kevin doubled over, clutching his belly like he had a stomachache.
"Wouldn't have thought _he_had it in him..."
Kevin grunted out, a shallow guttural sound I'd never heard the like of from him before, even when he was getting battered on the field. He panted, staggering, and repeated the noise, which turned into something very like a growl.
Carver and Rasmussen got up and tried to help Kevin, but he pushed them away - with such force they hit the lockers opposite him with a clang, leaving visible dents above where they landed.
"Kevin?" I said, "Are you...?" I saw immediately that I would regret finishing the question - obviously he wasn't all right, but what else could I say?
"I don't know," he said. The growl was bleeding into his voice, giving him a strange ferocity despite how confused he looked, hunched over and staring at his hands. "I don't..."
He seemed taller, suddenly, and my concern only increased as I saw the coach step back and lock the door. Carver had noticed as well. "Coach?"
"You've got a game to win, boys," he said. "Maybe only one of you came in here with the fighting spirit, but you're staying here till it's in every last one of you."
Kevin made a frightened sound, and I looked back to see him surely half a foot taller, with streaks of dark hair covering his arms and face. At least, I thought it was hair - but as it spread I could tell it was fur, deep gray in color and bristling as he continued to grow, his body bulging against the increasingly-tighter football uniform until the fabric gave way, tearing loudly.
Everyone turned to look as Kevin's new body spilled out of his torn clothing. Rhys was the first to stammer out the obvious: "Werewolf..." Kevin roared out as the change spread over his face - a long, canine muzzle pulling out - and his tail snaked out from the remnants of his pants.
Oh yes, the pants had quite come apart as well. Now, we'd all seen Kevin in the showers before - I would have said he was nothing to write home about, though anyone who saw my journal might think otherwise - but the slab of meat that burst forth from the tattered denim was not the average member we were all familiar with. No, Kevin's cock was probably thick as a thermos now, jutting out from under his growing belly by what had to be at least a foot, angry red in color and shaped like a dog's.
"Holy fuck," Big Mike said, taking a couple of steps back.
Kevin stopped looking over his changed self and looked at Big Mike with a dark glint in his eye. "Yes," he growled. "Fuck." I noticed that hard, massive cock was dripping freely.
I noticed I could smell it from here - a powerful, animal scent.
Kevin beckoned to Big Mike. "Here. Now."
Big Mike didn't dare disobey, but approached the new-made werewolf with obvious fear.
Big Mike was six foot six, and Kevin's new body towered over him anyway.
"Kneel. Serve."
He knelt, coming face to face with the werewolf's massive piece. Despite Big Mike's size, there was no way that shaft would fit in his mouth.
Kevin didn't even give the poor guy time to protest. He just put one of those big meaty paws on Big Mike's head and shoved that big dick in his face, which deformed around it like a cartoon character. The way his jaw stretched was simply unreal; the bulge in his throat was clear even at this distance.
The rest of the team had scrambled back away from the scene, cowering against the further lockers but unable to look away.
The werewolf's paw slid Big Mike's head up and down his cock as though he were just some kind of cheap sex doll. His other paw began to glow slightly, and he gestured at Tanson. "Come. Serve."
Tanson moved forward unsteadily, as though he were fighting the impulse. His resistance was futile, however, and in a moment he was standing behind the big wolf - kneeling behind the big wolf - burying his face under the big wolf's tail. Kevin growled softly as Tanson started eating out his ass, and he started humping Big Mike's face faster, letting loose a deep growl as that cock plunged deep into his throat, visibly pulsing as he shot a load of lycanthrope seed directly into his stomach.
And it was a pretty hefty load, given the way the poor guy's stomach bulged out as Kevin pumped into him. As the werewolf's orgasm subsided, Big Mike started glowing, a light spreading from his gut to engulf his body and Kevin's together. Kevin howled out from within the light, writhing somewhat, and pulled his cock out of Big Mike's throat. The light faded, and I saw that Kevin's muscle mass had increased considerably - and a pair of dark silver horns had burst forth from his head.
Big Mike collapsed on the ground, recovering his breath as gray fur started to spread across his body.
Kevin leaned back as Tanson continued to lick and nibble at his rump, despite the clear fear in his eyes. The werewolf gestured again, the aura around his paw considerably darker this time. "Come. Serve."
Rhys and Andy came forward.
Of course the werewolf was not satiated. Though the giant cock had blown a load down Big Mike's throat, its stiffness hadn't abated a bit; the musk of it was hypnotic and I couldn't help but stare, breathing in the smell of masculinity that filled the locker room.
Rhys and Andy knelt before Kevin's cock, which was still slick with the juices of Big Mike's throat. Kevin grabbed Rhys's head and guided it onto his dick, starting to fuck his face even more fiercely than before. Big Mike, having recovered himself, got up and positioned himself behind Andy, a grin spreading across his growing muzzle as he plunged his changing cock into his friend's ass.
I found myself with my hand in my pants, rubbing my own cock as I watched the wolves go to work plowing their teammates.
I ought to be afraid, I thought, stroking. Andy was crying out pretty loudly as Big Mike's cock went full werewolf in him, stretching his hips apart farther than the bones were ever meant to go.
Maybe I ought to do something, I thought, licking pre from my hand and stroking harder as Kevin pounded Rhys's mouth, his rump engulfing Tanson's face with every backthrust.
Kevin turned and winked at me.
Behind that mass of fur, his eyes were still the same.
I blew my load immediately. Kevin howled again as he slammed into Rhys, the aura firing up again as he filled him with his cum, the dark light enveloping the five of them. Big Mike's howl followed on a moment later as his knot sank into Andy's hole and he let loose his own load.
The glow disappeared. Andy, Rhys, and Tanson were growling low as fur started to spread across their bodies. Kevin and Big Mike looked bigger - at least fifty pounds each of soft mass heavier. Those round, firm guts were no distraction from the biggest change, however, which was the massive pair of demon wings that had sprouted from Kevin's back, spread out and seeming to fill the comparatively narrow space between rows of lockers.
"Go," the werewolf demon said. "Convert the rest of your pack."
The four converged on the remainder of the team, and Kevin approached the corner where I'd been cowering.
"I claim you for mine," he said quietly.
The eyes were still his. There was a kindness in them, somehow, despite the malice the rest of his body was radiating. I trusted, immediately, that he didn't intend to hurt me, though I rather strongly suspected that what he thought would hurt me and what I thought would hurt me might not make for a very comforting Venn diagram.
His cock was still hard, still very wet, still emanating that musk that made my own merely human cock stand upright again.
He wrapped as much of his paw around his shaft as he could, and pointed it down at my face. I shut my eyes and opened my mouth, terrified nonetheless, but it wasn't the thrust of that hefty pole that I felt next, but rather a warm splash of wetness covering my face.
The werewolf demon was marking me with his piss.
I felt it running over my face and hair, and dripping down my chest and back.
"Mine," he said, and I felt the stream fill my mouth half a moment before he plugged it with the head of his cock.
I had no choice but to swallow. I felt a weird strength fill me with each gulp of the beast's salty piss - I knew the change was overtaking me as well. I felt the fur cover my skin as I swallowed. I felt my tail punch out of my pants. My hands changed to paws as they stroked the thick cock that filled more and more of my muzzle, as I grew big enough to take it. I drank down my new owner's piss, the stream seeming endless as my body filled out, growing taller, stouter, thicker, my clothing ripping apart as I grew. I knew I wouldn't be the runt anymore. I drank that nourishing piss, feeling my belly swell out, not bloating tight, but growing softer and rounder with each gulp.
Kevin scratched softly behind my new lupine ears as his stream ceased. "Good boy," he said.
Coach Stockton looked on from the bench by the door, guarding it, stroking his shaft as he watched his pups go to work on each other. He felt the wolf rising in him and tried to hold back his own change - he'd enjoy the boys properly, but after the game.
The game, right. He looked up at the clock on the wall, and around at the team, seeing them all fully converted into the burly, rutting wolves they were meant to be, and Kevin the perfect fighter to lead them.
It was time.
He stood up on the bench and addressed the pack. "All right boys, we've got a game to win! The other team won't know what hit 'em. Suit up and tear 'em apart." He tossed out a set of oversized jerseys that just might cover the new growth that stuck with them as they focused on changing back into presentable human shapes.
The pants, of course, were hopeless. They tried to struggle into them, but their thicker new forms had exceeded the coach's best expectations. Powerful thighs burst through reinforced seams and perpetual hard-ons strained against the crotches, stains spreading from cummy cocks and asses.
Nevertheless, the coach felt pride swelling in him as he looked over the boys standing ready in the tatters of their uniforms. He unlocked the door, turning them loose to stampede out to the field, ready to win.
That's the spirit, he thought, fondly remembering a similar scene from his younger days.
He followed after them, eager to watch his new pack at work.