He just wanted his team to win. Coach Smith was tall and muscular and handsome and he had not been accustomed to loosing in life. At 24 he had a beautiful wife and promising career. Now at 35 he had been a coach for 11 years and things weren't going so well. He was still married but the career was less promising.
Smith was a dedicated football coach at small but prestigious college. He trained right beside his boys. Running drills with them, tackling and getting tackled by them, getting dirty and showering with them. He even ate the same diet he forced them to eat. It was all to show he would never ask more from them more then he did of himself. It had kept him strong and toned but it had not helped the Big Bulls of Cedar College win.
He thought if he showed complete dedication they could finally start racking up some victories, like he used to as a player when he was in college. But year after year, new players in old players out, they continued to be the laughing stalk of the league. Smith had even heard rumors the administration was thinking of cutting the team all together. They had become an embarrassment to the school.
Coach Smith knew if his boys could win just one game then they'd have the confidence they needed, but the Big Bulls of Arizona technical college had not won a football game in 10 years. It didn't matter how good the players were at practice, when the game was on they could never pull it off.
Coach Smith was desperate. He had been hired the year before the big slump, which made it even worse. That's one winning season, and 10 seasons of loses. It was like they were cursed. He sat alone in a café waiting for his friend to show up, he put his hand through his short blond hair thinking about his team. His wife was barely talking to him; this team was all he had left.
Yesterday in the showers he had surveyed his boys. They were muscled and toned, all shaved completely smooth from the neck down, something they did for solidarity and the coach had to. They were comfortable with each other, it didn't make sense they couldn't win a game, they had all the pieces they needed. Teamwork and muscles, that's all football is. Soapsuds washed down their 6-packs to their huge balls. These young men, their cocks were massive elephant trunks, swaying as they joked and teased and slapped each other. Each one bigger than the last. How can guys that hung not have the confidence it takes, he thought.
Coach Smith's friend Marty arrived in a limo. He was also a coach, but of a woman's soccer team. Woman's soccer coaches were usually paid pretty bad but his team had skyrocketed to the top in the nation a few years after he signed on. It put the school on the map and the administration gave Marty anything he asked for.
Coach Marty said he was busy. No time to talk. He just handed Smith a book, he said it was his secret. It was so far beyond cheating no one would ever catch him, but he should be careful. "You might not enjoy the consequences as much as I did, with your MEN's football team. " Then he laughed and left. It might be prank, whatever was in that book. Marty was always pranking Smith when they were on the team together. But Smith knew he had to take that risk.
Smith figured if it was legit it might be instructions relating to cheating on the field, other teams playbooks, or something to do with steroids, he was too desperate to care.
Instead it was a recipe for herbal tea. The Secret Spartan Tea, it was called. That must be the joke, he thought, Marty knows that I so desperate and I'll use this no matter what, its probably a laxative. Well fuck me, let's try it.
Herbal tea, how would that help his team. Could Marty's secret have been antioxidants? All the ingredients were legal, different kinds of tealeaves and herbs that he could buy at any organic food store. But one ingredient, while legal, was much harder to find. It was called Trowzer Snake Root, and he finally found it at an obscure little shop in Greek town. He thought it must be some kind of naturally occurring steroid, something that oversight organizations didn't know about yet.
He made a batch and served it to his team instead of Gatorade. He filled 3 huge water coolers with it and made them all take a drink. And he had a cup as well. It tasted salty and sweet and weird but he drank it all down. It tasted better the more you drank it. That day they practiced in the hot sun and they all drank a lot.
The team didn't play any better at practice that day, maybe a little worse even. His team was complaining weird jock itch, he could feel it himself. It wasn't like a rash and it didn't hurt, but it felt so good it itch it, it was hard not to. A different kind of itch. It was all over his cock and he was starting to feel it up his butt. He called practice early. Marty and his fucking pranks, this must be some kind of itching tea.
Everyone rushed to the locker room. Guys were ripping their uniforms off in showers, not waiting for their lockers. Talk was some sort of jock itch must be going around, that could happen if the team manager fucked up the laundry. Coach Smith was just glad they didn't suspect his tea.
