Meet up with the Coach

Coach Davies was the next to fall. Or rather, I was. He’d been calling incessantly, demanding to know why his star captain was MIA. Finally, I’d caved, agreeing to meet him at the deserted soccer field after school, hoping to explain, to beg for understanding. He was waiting for me by the bleachers, his usual gruff expression softened by concern.

“Riley! There you are! What the hell’s going on, son? You look... different.” His eyes, sharp and assessing, swept over my slighter frame, the baggy hoodie doing little to conceal the new curves.

I tried to explain, stammering about a “medical condition,” a “hormonal imbalance.” He listened, frowning, clearly not buying it. And then, the urge hit. Hard. He was so close. So male. His coach’s authority, his sheer physical presence... it was overwhelming.

I don’t even remember how it started. One minute I was trying to explain, the next my hands were on him, my body pressing against his, that alien, **** need consuming me. He was shocked, confused, but... he didn’t push me away. Maybe it was the power dynamic, maybe he was just as bewildered as I was. Maybe, god forgive me, he was even a little bit...intrigued.

The sex was quick, furtive, degrading, behind the bleachers, the scent of cut grass and desperation filling my nostrils. He was rough, almost impersonal, taking what was so obviously, desperately on offer. Afterwards, he just looked at me, his face a mixture of pity and disgust. “Riley,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Get help, son. Seriously. Whatever this is... it’s not right.” He turned and walked away, leaving me alone, shaking, violated, and undeniably... more female.

My breasts swelled again, pushing into a small B-cup, rounder now, more defined, my nipples perpetually hard, exquisitely sensitive. My waist nipped in further, my ass gaining a distinct, womanly curve that made my hoodies tent out in the back. My face softened even more, my cheekbones becoming more delicate, my lips plumper. I looked... like a very pretty, very athletic girl.