Coach Warner
You knew better than having a crush on a straight man. You learned that lesson on high school. But having a crush on your straight middle aged baseball coach should not have been in the realm of possibility.
You had always been attracted to jocks. Muscle bods and pretty faces. Coach Warner used to be a jock but now he was plus forty pounds and hairier than a gorilla.
You tried to ignore your rising desires but at every practice you couldn’t help yourself from sneaking stares at Coach’s huge butt jiggling in his tiny shorts. And that doesn’t even begin to address the fog that would come over you whenever you even got the slightest whiff of the man. Onions and ass to put it bluntly but to you it made you drool from your mouth and penis.
You were talking to your best friend Andrew in the locker room after practice one day when you saw, out of the corner of your eye, coach enter the locker room. You tried to remain focused on Andrew instead of pining after Coach. Andrew had fully changed besides putting his shirt back on. Casually chatting with you while flashing his firm hairy chest in your face. Andrew was another crush you weren’t supposed to have.
After finally dressing himself fully you and Andrew made your way to the exit of the locker room that Coach Warner seemed to be guarding. You kept your eyes to the ground avoiding having to made eye contact with your coach but you stopped feeling a firm hand land on your shoulder.
“Mind staying back bud”. You could barely get a word out but felt your face turn red. “I’ll catch up with you later bro.” Andrew left without a second thought. And soon all of the other guys did as well.
Coach Warner locked the door and turned to look at you. You felt yourself sweaty with nerves. “Ya know Stephens”. Again your face felt hot, for some reason you always got flustered when he called you by your last name. “I’ve seen you looking at me” Coach stuck his hands down his pants and started scratching his balls. You already felt your dick start to grow in your gym shorts, and your heart was beating in your head. You cleared your throat struggling to get words out.
“Uh sorry Coach?”. You were confused but afraid. Coach grinned at you, the fratty smile that gave you a glimpse of the youthful jock he used to be. “It’s okay bud. No need to be embarrassed”. He then pulled his hand from his pants and sniffed his fingers. “Whew! I’m ripe”.
You were stunned at Coach Warners crudeness. “Here” Coach held his hand out, his fingers nearing your face. “Take a whiff”
The stench of Coach Warners balls hit you before you could even take a deep breath. His fingers were shiny with sweat, a stray pube even stuck to his index finger. You let out a little involuntary moan as you took an actual inhale.
Your coach burst out laughing at you. Pulling his hand away from your face wiping his fingers carelessly on his shorts. “Ya know Stephens, I’ve had my eyes on you for a while now but I never would’ve guessed you’d be this much of a pussy boy”.
You were mortified. Unable to halt the growing appendage in your shorts. “Please coach! Don’t tell anyone. I’m really sorry. I promise I won’t let myself get distracted anymore just please don’t tell the guys!”
Coach Warner knitted his eyebrows. “Aw bud relax” he then wrapped his massive arm around your shoulders and began to guide you deeper into the locker room. “No need to get so worked up.” He continued to speak and walk you towards the bench near yours and Andrew’s lockers. You tried to pay attention but you were distracted by the fact that Coach Warners exposed hairy sweaty armpit was currently pressed into your shoulder. You made a mental note to sniff your shirt later for any remnants of his stink.
Both you and Coach Warner sat on the sticky bench. He moved his arm off your shoulders and smack his hand down hard on your exposed lower thigh. “I’m not gonna tell anyone anything Stephens as long as you pull your weight a bit more.”
“Yea of course Coach I’ll do whatever you need from me but um what do you mean…”
Warner laughed at you again. “Come on bud isn’t it obvious? You’re a sissy boy and I’m a real man. Your brain is wired to seek out and worship a real man like me. It’s just science Stephens, pheromones and shit”. You swallowed slowly processing what all of this could mean.
“What does t-“ before you could even finish speaking Coach Warner cut you off. “Get on your knees in front of me now” Coach’s voice changed it was now more stern and there was something else to it as well. A guttural growl, almost lustful.
Used to taking orders from Coach Warner on the field your body almost on autopilot slipped from the bench onto your knees. You turned to face him. Staring into his dark eyes a smirk growing across his face.
“Good boy!” Coach sounded happy but you knew he was trying to demean you. “Now take off my sneakers bud”. Again on autopilot you began to remove his dirty sneakers. His laces were double knotted, and time seemed to slow as you unlaced them.
Once the first sneaker was off you were hit with the unmistakable stench of sweaty feet. Your hand moved to cover your nose on instinct. “Nuh uh boy. You’re gonna appreciate my feet?” Your eyes locked with Coach Warner’s and you knew you had to do whatever he said.
Your hand lowered from your face and you began to remove his other shoe. The stink now consumed you. It was fowl. Not like the armpit and ass stink you couldn’t help yourself to love. This smell was just beyond something you could like. It was like a damp moldy cheese mixed with the locker room after a summer practice.
Now with both sneakers off Coach Warner said one word. “Rub”. He smiled lightly and wiggled his toes at you. You tentatively grabbed his left foot and began to squeeze. It was damp. Coach Warner let out a deep moan as you began to rub harder and more consistently.
“That’s it Bud. Really get into it” Despite telling yourself to focus on the act of rubbing you couldn’t ignore the foot stink. It was bad, like really bad. Coach must’ve noticed you attempting to turn your head to the side to avoid any of the air contaminated with his sweaty foot odor.
“Having trouble Stephens?” You tried to think of a diplomatic answer. “Uh sorry Coach yea they just stink really bad. I’m happy to rub your feet for you but maybe you could wash them off in the showers first?”
Coach Warner burst out laughing at this. “No way bud. You just need to get used to them”. Without hesitating Coach Warner reached over picked up one of his sneakers and held it directly over your face. Your nose and mouth were now trapped directly in the source that had been baking the foot stink you’d been trying to avoid.
Before you could pull away Coach Warner had you gripped by your hair, tightly. Your eyes began to water from the pain of him pulling your hair but mostly from the stink. “Come on bud, deep whiffs if you want out”
Seeing no other option, you mustered the courage to take a deep inhale through your nose. The smell was raw and potent; you’d never had foot stink injected directly into your nostrils like this and your body was unprepared. Immediately post sniff your body wretched, Coach held you tightly though. Your gags seemed to put a smile on Coach’s face.
“No way Stephens that’s not deep enough. Breathe that stink like a man!” You wanted to cry. Your boner had now completely deflated. Now you knew for a fact you did not like feet. Despite this again you took a deep and loud inhale. Your body responds to the stink immediately once again.
“Keep going bud. Get a nice rhythm going. “With no choice but to heed Coach Warners demands you began to take continuous deep and long inhales. Tears were now streaming down your face. You couldn’t understand why Coach Warner was doing this. All because you had a crush on him? It was cruel, his feet stunk so badly and he knew this. Why force you to smell them?
After what felt like hours but was likely only two minutes Coach Warner finally released his tight grip on your hair and dropped his shoe.
Still on your knees you feel forward in your hands coughing. Coach laughed above you. “What a good little stink sniffing sissy. Might have to have you sniffing my feet in the dugout during games from now on”
Hearing this scared you. “No please coach! Don’t make me do this in front of the guys!” Coach seemed thoroughly entertained by your begging. “Why not bud!? Maybe then the boys’ll feel like letting you sniff their dogs too. You’d like that right?”
Having lost any rational thought to Coach Warner’s foot stink you immediately rejected his notion. “No sir I really wouldn’t like that! I’m sorry I don’t like the smell of feet! Especially not from my teammates, they’ll never let it go. I wouldn’t even be one of the guys to them anymore.”
Your reaction seemed to lure something out of Coach Warner. “Don’t lie to me Stephens. I know you love stinky feet. You were just smelling my gross ass sneaker.” You attempted to argue again but Coach wouldn’t let you. “If the next words out of your mouth aren’t ’I love stinky man feet’ I’m gonna have to tell the guys that I caught you stealing dirty socks from the team laundry.”
Your stomach dropped. What had started as a potentially dream scenario had turned into a nightmare. You swallowed deeply and spoke quietly. “I love stinky man feet” Coach Warner challenged you quickly. “What was that!?”
You internally groaned and spoke again but louder. “I love stinky man feet!” Coach Warner chuckled lightly. “That’s right boy. You do. Now lay on your back.”
Seeing no other options you willingly lied underneath your massive coach. Staring up at his imposing figure with fear. Coach Warner brought his massive feet up above your face again wiggling them teasingly at you with a cruel bully of a smile on his face.
His socks were black on the bottoms which almost seemed less gross than the rest of them which had been tinted yellow. “Now be a good footstool and sniff deeply for Coach okay bud?”
“Yes Si-mmhh” you were cut off as Coach Warner roughly placed both of his nasty big feet on your face.
Coach Warner let out a satisfied sigh as he began to lightly rub his feet back and forth across your face. “What are you supposed to be doing sissy?” Coach asked his voice again sounding deep and stern. Without answering you started taking audible deep inhales.
“Mhmmm that’s right bud. Deep sniffs” Coach Warner sounded so relaxed and pleased while you gaged and cried from the potent stink of his feet. The two of you went on like this for quite a while. Coach Warner rubbing his socked feet back and forth across your face while you sniffed and gagged.
Eventually the nasty feet that had been ruling your reality for the last undetermined amount of time were lifted from your face. Your skin felt sticky with Coach Warner’s foot sweat and despite not having them directly in your face you couldn’t stop smelling the nasty cheesiness of Coach Warner’s feet, like the stink at become engrained in your nostrils.
“Wow that was great bud. You get your rocks off yet?” Coach Warner was teasing you, you could tell by the look on his face that he knew you didn’t actually like the smell but he seemed to enjoy forcing you to act like you did. Not wanting to anger him you figured your best bet was to appease him. “Yes Sir thank you that was great. But can I please go now.”
“No way bud. Take my socks off first.” You had no options. So you rolled over returning to your knees. You took Coach Warner’s massive left foot in your hands and removed his crusty sock, and you repeated this on the right. The sight of Coach Warner’s bare feet had you nauseated. They were hairy with long yellowed toenails, and some with dirt trapped beneath them. But worse were the bottoms, speckled with dirt that was plastered on with sweat and dead skin peeling all over them. You instinctively gagged.
“Yeaaa bud. Time for the real massage now.” Coach Warner leaned back putting his massive arms behind his head. You’d wished you were smelling his armpits right now and not his gross feet. Without waiting for the command you took a sweaty foot in your hands and began to rub.
“No Stephens, your face is a better massage tool than your hands are. Lay back down.”
You were paralyzed. You could not handle Coach Warner’s bare feet rubbing on your face. “Okay wait please Coach I’m sorry I’ll do anything else please I can’t handle your feet that smell so bad”. You didn’t care who whiny you sounded this was too far.
“Really you’ll do anything?” Coach Warner asked in a soft voice. “Yes sir I’m sorry I was staring at you so much I’ll control my urges I promise!”
Coach seemed to ponder what you said. “Okay, I have an idea”. Coach Warner stood from the bench and stepped around you. You turned and watched him noting the sound of his bare feet sticking and unsticking to the gross locker room floor. He walked directly to your best friend Andrew’s locker. Coach Warner dug in his pocket and pulled out his keys. He parsed through them until finding the right one using it then to open Andrew’s locker.
Pulling out Andrew’s gym bag Coach rummaged through it shortly pulling out a disgusting looking tube sock. “Well” Coach spoke as he returned to his eating on the bench in front of you. “I heard a rumor that your boy Andrew doesn’t wash his game day socks”. You knew this as well, and it wasn’t a rumor it was a fact that Andrew was proud of.
Coach took a quick whiff of Andrew’s sock but pulled it away from his face even faster. “Whew! That’s some stink!” Coach Warner spoke with a mix of admiration and disgust.
Coach then crumpled Andrew’s sock up in his hand. “Since you said you’d do anything how about we help your friend out and give his socks a bit of a wash.” Your eyes widened with fear. “Open your mouth as wide as you can. Now!” Switching back to his stern voice your mouth opened immediately.
Coach Warner laughed in your face and then shoved the nasty piece of fabric between your lips shoving the sock inward until it was nearly falling down your throat. The sweaty cloth pressed into your tongue, your tastebuds were quickly overwhelmed with the taste of tears of your best friend’s foot sweat.
Tears again rushed down your face. “Now that we got that stupid voice of yours shut lay back down. I want to give you a foot facial.”
You knew you had no more options. Pleading got you nowhere and now without the use of your voice you had to silently obey.
You watched in disgust and fear and the stinky feet that had dominated you all afternoon hovered again over your face. They were dirtier than before now that they had walked across the locker room. “Remember I wanna hear deep whiffs”
Your face was consumed. Trapped beneath the sweaty dogs. One foot alone was enough to make your gag and cry but the two together had your face drowning in nastiness. Both feet slipped and slid across your face as Coach Warner continually rubbed them back and forth. Dirt and skin surely dislodging itself all over your face. And now with Andrew’s sock in your mouth you couldn’t even take small breaths from your mouth to relieve yourself. You were forced to breathe exclusively from your nostrils.
Coach Warner continued to rub his feet back and forth occasionally making satisfied moans. He was getting really into it pressing the arch of his foot down on your nose, really treating your face as if it were just a tool for him to use. He then allowed your nose to slip between his big toe and second toe. “Your nose looks so cute between my stinky toes Stephens” he said with a small laugh. You groaned in response through the sock in your mouth.
“I know I said I wouldn’t tell anyone if you pulled your weight but you might be too good at this for me to not promote you to team foot massager. It’s like your face was made to rub my barking dogs”. You desperately wanted to get up and run. To never return to the locker room but your will had been completely lost to Coach Warner’s stinky man feet.
Coach Warner lifted his feet from your face and began to slap your cheeks with them lightly. “You okay with that bud? No more second base for you, you’re much better suited for the position of foot massager on our team.”
Of course you couldn’t respond to this. Only moan through your best friends disgusting unwashed ‘lucky’ sock. Coach Warner laughed at your struggles and continued to play with your face with his feet. “What a good boy…what a good foot boy”. And you knew he was right. That’s exactly what you were. Nothing but a pathetic little good boy for your baseball coach’s gross sweaty stinky feet.