Physical Education

[MonsterMash62]

The following is an excerpt from my newest Kindle e-book. If you're interested, read on. Be warned that what's posted here is not the complete story.


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"Are you seriously checking out my ass, fag-bait? What the fuck?"

I heard the sound of a head cracking against a wall. I knew that sound well, because I had heard it on numerous other occasions. It's gotta be Tom and Jack again, I thought. It's always Tom and Jack. Every day. In the hall just outside of my office. Usually after I coached the football team through a practice at the end of the day. Today?s episode of the Tom and Jack show started just after classes ended, before the big Friday night game against our cross town rivals.

"You'd love it if I wore some nice, hot, tight, faggy little shorts all the time, wouldn?t you, Jackie-boy?" he asked. "Yeah, I bet you'd love it if you could check out my ass and stare at my monster cock any fucking time you wanted, right? You'd really love that, wouldn't you, fag?"

Tom was always giving someone a hard time. Tom and his sidekick? Wait a second ? sidekick? For the life of me I couldn?t remember who his sidekick was. And now that I thought about it, Tom was pretty much a one-man-show where his bullying was concerned. More often than not, his target was Jack.

Still, something didn?t feel right about this, like something was tickling the back of my head. Almost like I had forgotten something; or maybe someone. But I couldn't place it.

"Don't. Call me. Jackie." Jack said calmly, enunciating every word. I had to hand it to him; he seemed to be standing up to Tom more than usual.

Thump! Another slam against the wall. Tom's a big guy. At six foot five, he towered over most of his classmates, and he?s pretty intimidating. Not to me, of course. I'm six foot three. And not a student in this backwards university prep school. But to Jack?

"I'll" thump "call you" thump "whatever" thump "I" thump "feel like, fuck-face!" Tom said. "And Jackie seems perfect for a little ass-pirate like you."

I knew I should get up and put an end to this, but to be honest, Jack brought this upon himself. He's gay, which isn't a big deal, but he's not very discrete about it. He seemed to have a thing for the entire football team, and this wasn't the first time one of the guys had caught him staring.

I mean, yeah, Tom goes overboard sometimes, but it seems like Jack goes out of his way to egg him on. It had been Tom's parking space yesterday. Jack had parked in it, apparently not knowing that nobody parked in the first spot in the lot but Tom. And even I knew that. The day before that, Jack gave Tom a funny look when he cut in line in the cafeteria. Ok, so maybe Tom did take things too far. But that's just how it works in school, even post high school. Tom's head jock. And Jack? Well, Jack isn't anybody, really?

Suddenly, a new voice said, "D'uh, you shouldn't be so mean to Jack." I knew that voice. Maybe. It sounded like Trent, but I couldn't really remember when I'd seen him last. It seemed like just yesterday he and Tom were causing trouble in the locker room after practice, but that couldn't be. Trent had dropped out of school his freshman year because of his terrible grades. Everyone knew that.

I felt something tickling my head. Like an itch, but inside my mind. How did I know Trent had dropped out of high school? How the hell did I even know who Trent was? I mean, it felt like he had been one of my students, but how could that be? He had never attended this school, even though I knew he was the same age as the rest of the students.

"Ju-ju-jack's a great guy, Tom. You should be nuh-nuh-nicer to him!" the familiar voice said.

"Dude, you're just a fuckin? janitor! Don't tell me?" Tom's voice cut off in surprise.

I finally poked my head up enough to see through the glass window above my desk.

Across the hall stood Tom and Jack, Jack pinned to the wall by one of Tom's arms. Jack's a good foot shorter than Tom, but the way Tom held him up, his round face was level with Tom?s. His wild wavy brown hair looked like one big cow lick. He wore a white button up shirt with a plaid vest over top, and khaki corduroy pants. His feet hung in the air, his polished black shoes dangling a foot above the floor.

Tom stood twisted towards me in side profile, one hand holding Jack up, the other hand held towards the person who had just stuttered at him. He wore a red baseball cap, cocked slightly to the side, a red sleeveless ?D&G? t-shirt with the sides torn open, and a pair of grey ?Under Armour? basketball shorts. His goateed face had some redness to it, his dirty blond hair poking out under the bill of his cap. His generous pectoral muscles showed through the rips on the sides of his shirt.

That kid seriously had no business being as mature looking as he did, especially for someone recently turned nineteen. He even had some chest hair showing around the sides of the somewhat skimpy designer top. And why would he waste money buying such ratty designer clothes? Tom was a rich, incredibly handsome, athletically talented bully. Could he be more of a walking stereotype?

"Trent, is that you?" I heard Tom's voice ask. He paused, and then continued, "You?re a fucking janitor?"

"D?uh, yeah, Tom," Trent's voice answered, "Ya know I, uh, am?" I leaned even further across my desk to see who had spoken, and it was Trent!

The funny thing was, I really didn?t remember Trent being a janitor; not really. But now that I thought about it, maybe I did. As I looked at him through the window, something seemed really off about him. I could clearly remember Trent as really tall, a bit taller than Tom even. He had a wide back and broad shoulders. He was really muscular, especially for his age. And he always wore his hair in a military cut, keeping it as regimented as his body through exercise.

But that was not the Trent in front of me now; not exactly. Yeah, he was still tall. Still muscular. Still wide. But his face looked different. It was, well ? more. He had a heavier brow, and it seemed to cast a shadow over his sunken eyes. His box like jaw looked much more prominent. His hair poked out from under the generic blue hat he wore, shaggy and in need of a cut. He had always been fastidious about his grooming before, but his hair sprouted out of everywhere now. Chest hair curled out of the top of his huge coveralls, his face furry with a thick five o'clock shadow. Hell, he even had hair poking out of the cuffs of his sleeves. Taken together, his features made him look like the missing link between man and ape.

I couldn?t believe that a promising athlete like Trent had ended up as a janitor. Had he really dropped out of high school? If he had, he couldn?t have ever attended our small town university prep school. But it really felt like he?d just been here, practicing with the team yesterday.

Then I remembered that his mother had asked me if I could help persuade the headmaster to give Trent a job as a janitor. It was a summer afternoon, a few days before classes began. I had been prepping for the new school year when I heard her crying in the hallway outside of my office. I stepped out and asked her what was wrong. She told me how she and her husband didn?t know what they were going to do with Trent. He?d had to drop out of high school the year before (?My poor baby is just too dumb for school,? she said) and he couldn?t seem to get a job anywhere. They couldn?t have him just sitting around the house all day. I told her I?d put in a good word with the headmaster and she gave me the most relieved smile I?ve ever seen. How could I forget all of that?

"Fuck, Trent, you must be a total dumb-ass," Tom said, jarring me back to the present. "I can't believe you're a fuckin? janitor!"

"D'uh, how come you always gimme such a hard time, Tom?" Trent said in a slow drawl. "Everybody knows I was too stupid to stay in school. You duh-duh-don?t gotta rub it in all the time." He really pulled on the ?u? in stupid, making it sound more like "stoooopid".

This all felt wrong, but I couldn't argue with Trent?s logic. I never think of anyone as stupid, even if they don't seem particularly bright. But for some reason, I just knew Trent was right ? he was way too dumb for school. In fact, I had to wonder how he?d made it through as much schooling as he had. From what I had heard, it was open to debate whether or not he was too stupid even for janitorial work.

Tom scratched his head in confusion, his bicep bulging slightly as he did. He dropped Jack to the floor, and stomped heavily over to Trent. "Fuck man, I don?t know what to think," he said, pausing for a moment. "But yeah, I guess I do know you're an idiot. And I guess I know that you?re just a fucking janitor, too." He glared at Trent's ape-like face now, and poked his chest hard, forcing Trent back. "What I don?t know is why a fucking dumb-ass janitor like you is sticking his nose in my business and sticking up for this little sissy?"

I?d had more than enough now. Trent may be a half-wit (if he had even that much intelligence) but that didn?t excuse Tom to push him around that way. I got out of my seat and walked to the door. I could see Trent?s full, hulking form now. He really was huge, and still his coveralls were way too loose on him. He wore a name tag that I could read clearly from across the hall. Strangely, it said ?Dummy? instead of Trent's name. What was going on with the janitorial staff these days?

"That's enough, Tom," I said.

"Mr. P?" he asked me. My last name's Pennerson, so most of the football team calls me Mr. P.

"You need to cool off, Tom." I said. "You can?t talk that way to one of our janitors."

"Yeah, sure, Mr. P." He held out his hands in mock surrender, and backed up a little, glaring at Trent. "I'm done with this retard anyway."

"Drop and gimme 100 push-ups. Now!" I told him.

Tom groaned. "Seriously, Mr. P? What am I, ten?"

"You tell me, Tom. The way you?re treating Trent, I wonder." I said.

"I?m not doing push-ups, Mr. P,? he said.

I stared him down. "You will if you want to play in tonight?s game."

"You wouldn?t dare pull me," he said, his face full of confidence.

"Try me, Tom. Try me," I told him.

He glared at me for a second. Finally, he dropped to the ground, muttering, "Whatever, Mr. P.? And he started cranking*?em out. Ten, twenty, thirty. He didn?t even break a sweat. The guy was a machine.

I heard him say quietly, under his breath, "If Hardwick was here, I wouldn?t be doing this." He had a point, but I didn?t care. Headmaster Hardwick wasn?t there right then.

I turned to Jack, who still sat on the floor. I said, "I think you*better*head out*now, Jack."

Jack picked himself up and dusted himself off.

"Christ Jack," I whispered. "Is it the bullying that gets you off or what?" I indicated his tented pants. "If Tom sees that..."

Jack's face reddened in embarrassment. He quickly turned and ran down the hallway. I hadn?t noticed, but his friend Byron was standing at the end, watching, cowering. Jack and Byron were always walking around together, discussing comic books or whining about how homophobic the school was. As if. But at least Byron knew better than to antagonize the school?s biggest bully?

Byron was president of the chess club, and an even bigger dork than Jack. He always wore t-shirts two sizes too big for his scrawny frame and short height. The shirts were horribly cheap, bright, too colorful, and usually featured either Dr. Strange or Mr. Fantastic. I didn?t know who exactly either of those characters were, but had seen them on Byron?s puny chest so often that I could recognize them now.

I turned back to Tom. A sharp, clipped voice suddenly startled me.

"What are you doing, dummy?" I heard headmaster Hardwick ask from just behind me. "Don?t tell me you don?t have any work to do?"

Trent jumped to attention. "D?uh, sorry Mr. Headmaster, sir. Uh, I was just?"

"I don?t want to hear any excuses," the headmaster cut him off. "We pay you to mop the floors, not stand around drooling on them. Now get back to work."

Trent?s broad shoulders sagged, and he hung his head submissively. He grabbed his mop, which I hadn't noticed before, and wheeled the mop and his bucket away. He had a piece of yellow paper stuck to his back which said, cleverly, "Moron!"

The headmaster shook his head. "That?s the problem with hiring these people, of course ? you have to watch them constantly. I swear if I wasn't repeatedly telling him what to do, he'd probably just sit in a corner and jerk off, smiling like a fool the entire day through." He paused. "Still, the board requires it?"

He turned his head to Tom, still doing push-ups. I had long since lost count, but he was well past a hundred by this point. "Would you mind explaining to me, Mr. Pennerson, why Tom is doing push-ups on the floor?" He looked at me pointedly. "Shouldn?t he be getting ready for tonight?s game against Central?"

"This is his punishment for picking on others," I told him. "It?s got nothing to do with the game."

The headmaster glared at me slightly. Looking down to Tom, he said, "That's more than enough, Tom. We don't want you wearing yourself out over something as minor as this. You run along now and get ready for the game. We need you in top shape, yes we do."

Tom got up. And the little shit smirked at me.

"Sorry, Mr. P. I'll do better tomorrow." He turned to the headmaster. "Scout's honor, sir," he said, still grinning, like a boy who's just eaten all of the evidence that he stole from the cookie jar. The headmaster smiled politely back, ignoring the fact that Tom clearly didn't give two shits about my authority.

We stood watching him head into the locker room, both of us silent. I knew what was coming though. Once Tom was out of sight, the headmaster turned to me, quiet anger on his face.

"You and I both know that athletes can be high-strung, especially those with Tom's abilities. It's only natural for a young man like him to act out occasionally." He paused, and narrowed his eyes at me as he continued. "Tom isn't just another student, Mr. Pennerson. He?s a gifted athlete, and one of the leaders of the student body. He?s special, and sometimes special students warrant special treatment. Which is why we should be nourishing and protecting his gifts. Not crushing them with petty punishments. Not for just using his God given abilities."

"Even if that means letting him bully others?"

He rolled his eyes at the sound of the word 'bully? but then caught sight of the large white clock on the wall over my head.

"Oh my, I'm quite late," he said. "We'll talk more about this another time but remember ? your job is to win football games. Now make me proud tonight!" And he left.

Hardwick could be a bit of a dick, if I?m honest. He?s never been the kind of guy I like to see outside of work. Ever. I bet the prick had money on the game.

On the plus side, the football team won that night, and it was a blowout. Fifty-five to seven. I had to admit that it was mostly because of Tom?s leadership on the field that our victory was so lopsided. It almost made me want to forget how much of a little bully he could be. Almost.


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Physical Education is over 40,000 words long, features muscle growth, reality alteration, mind control, enlargement (of things other than muscles), a super hot transformation or two, and plenty of humiliation.

It was also heavily edited by Lloyd311 (thanks again Lloyd!). If you like his stuff, you'll probably enjoy this. I sure enjoyed writing it.

Want to read more? Buy the book at Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Physical-Education-Hugh-Michelsen-ebook/dp/B00H9...