The Warped & Wicked Gym Coach Ch. 07

She learned back, hands on his shins; a rope of hot secretion squirted all over his stomach and up to his chest, soaking him in warm nectar. "She seemed to be choking, gasping for air: "Jacob! Oh!" she screamed as she climaxed, holding for several seconds that last holy note of euphoria.

Jake began to blink rapidly. "Oh shit," he cried. "Oh, oh, oh, Jesus fucking Christ!" He came vigorously inside of her, and a noise came out of his throat from a place he knew not where, unclogging his ears and his nostrils. She closed her eyes, reacting to the shot to her cervix, slowing her gyrations to barely perceptible shifts until he had unloaded all that he could. She collapsed upon his chest. "My boy," she said as her fingers stroked his face. "My sweet, hung boy." To the victor goes the spoils, he thought.

The other women tugged at his arms. "Me next!" the meteorologist shouted.

"No, me!" the other chimed in. He noticed he was still rock hard. What the hell did they dose me with? he wondered.

"Ladies, ladies," interrupted Ms. Bandy, eyes dreamily at half-mast. "You know the protocol. She's next," she said as she stood, beginning to unbuckle his straps. He glanced at where Holly was; Tomlinson was releasing her ankle as she stood on the other foot, supported by the two assistants. Two more wheeled out a large bed to the middle of the stage.

Ms. Bandy freed him from his bondage, and took him by the hand, leading him to where Holly lay waiting for him, smiling preciously. Before they arrived, Jake turned to his private coach. "I forgive you," he told her.

She laughed. "Good to know," she replied, and kissed him on the hand. "Now go to her."

He sat down next to Holly, who rested on her side, and stroked her hair away from her face; he moved his hand to her shoulder, her arm, her waist, lastly to her rump. The crowd had begun to chant something that he couldn't quite make out.

Jake spread her legs with his other hand and put it atop her vagina, entering her with his fingers. She exhaled with satisfaction, and reached over, taking his cock in her hand, pulling it toward her.

"Do it," she growled, her eyes sparkling like fireworks. "Do it to me now."

He leaned into her ear: "How long did you know?"

Holly giggled, and kissed his cheek. "How long do you think?"

He closed his eyes and reopened them. "Since forever?" he mused.

"Since forever," she answered.

They kissed, then he grabbed his dick as well, guiding himself into her with the fingers already inside her. She moaned, and then again an octave higher. "Oh my god," she gasped, "It's up to my belly button!"

The two young victors commenced to make soft and gentle love, lustily consummating their initiation in front of AD Tomlinson, Ms. Patricia Bandy, the weather lady, and all of the Bridgeport elite over a period of twenty-four magical and hard-won minutes, as the orgy was just getting started.

EPILOGUE

"Welcome everyone! Have a seat," Athletic Director Bandy cheerfully greeted her guests, pulling out the leather chair farthest to the right for Mrs. Lagojski, who thanked her with a simpering nod. "Thank you so much for coming to visit me at the office during the week. I'm sure everyone is very busy."

"Not too busy to make time for our daughter's future," said Dr. Lagojski in a thick Slavic accent. "Helina is our number one priority." He reached over and placed his arm on his daughter's shoulder. Helina leaned her head affectionately toward his hand, squeezing it between her neck.

"I trust you all read the program invitation letter?" Ms. Bandy asked.

"Of course, and we are absolutely interested," followed Dr. Lagojski. "We do, however, have our concerns." Helina remained silent out of respect for her father. She had zero concerns; this seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. Please let this happen, she prayed to no one in particular. This is everything I want.

"I'm sure," Ms. Bandy replied graciously. "It's only natural. Our methods certainly are unique, and anything different, especially in the academic sector, often attracts more scrutiny. But while we've adjusted the program some this year, one could hardly call what we do experimental. It's been a work in progress for almost twenty years now, developed by Headmaster Emeritus Tomlinson himself, back when he sat in this chair. We like to think it's the secret to the level of excellence that the Franklin Academy has been able to produce on a consistent basis."

"This is why Helina is here," remarked the doctor as he stroked his moustache. "I would not want her anywhere else. My only concern is that this program does not affect her studies."

"On the contrary," Ms. Bandy genially proffered. "We find that enrollees to the program actually average better grades than the student body as a whole. Some of our top graduates have been student athletes of the highest caliber, with the emphasis on 'student.' Allow me to show you some statistics," she said, turning her tablet on.

Helina stared out the window as her parents read the dull-looking spreadsheets. The campus was beautiful during the summer - green-leafed oaks peppered the wide open grass fields that lay between the administrative building and the quad. Among the trees, she watched a tall bearded man in a blue suit strolling along the sidewalk in the distance. Was that him? It looked like it could have been him, she thought. Her chest suddenly felt warm.

". . . Which is why we've decided to limit the program to only seven students this year, giving each child much more one-on-one time with the instructors," continued Ms. Bandy, as the Lagojskis looked at each other in approval. "But aside from the scholastic aspect, what I want to stress is this: we wouldn't have selected Helina if we didn't think she had the ability to play at the highest level. If this is something she wants, there is no better preparatory school program for elite athletics in West Virginia, and I would say the whole country." Helina allowed herself a little smile.

The door opened behind her. "Knock, knock," a deep voice spoke.

Ms. Bandy beamed. "And here's one of them now! Come on in, Jake." Helina froze in her chair. It's him! she thought, mentally squealing with delight.

Her father stood up, turning, extending his hand. "It is a real honor," said Dr. Lagojski enthusiastically. "We cannot believe the good fortune to have a professional basketball player helping our daughter with her skills."

"Ex-professional," smiled Mr. Packert. "I retired from the game some time ago." Helina awkwardly stood up, hands by her side, as he offered his hand to her mother. As he introduced himself to her, she noticed as he quickly regarded her physique - tall and slim, she had high cheekbones, chestnut-colored hair cut just above her shoulders, and green Asiatic eyes. Her friends told her she should be a Victoria's Secret model, but she couldn't imagine a more boring and pointless fate. Still, she wondered if he thought she was pretty.

"Nevertheless," interjected Mrs. Lagojski. "It rare to for someone like yourself to become a gym teacher, no?"

"Not as rare as you might think. And the Franklin Academy instilled in me a real sense of obligation to give back," Packert said solemnly. "My wife Holly and I have actually been preparing for this for years now."

"We are very glad of this," responded Mrs. Lagojski. "Especially the girls. I hear my daughter and her friends . . . I hope he is gentleman," she blurted with a silly laugh.

"Mom!" admonished Hilena. Just like her to make this weird, she thought.

Ms. Bandy chuckled. "We're used to it. Jake's become quite the local celebrity. He's also one of our greatest success stories." She turned to Helina. "He's a graduate of this course, you know, back when it was in its infancy."

"Trish here taught me everything I know," he acknowledged. "I've got some big shoes to fill." Dr. Lagojski's raised his eyebrows. He's impressed, thought his daughter. I'm in. I'm so in.

Trish rolled her eyes upward in a display of humility. "Mr. Packert is no slouch, nor is his wife Holly, who unfortunately couldn't make it today. Aside from his six-year career in the NBA, he holds a master's degree in education and is a licensed physical therapist. Dr. Packert, on the other hand, is a D.O., board-certified by the American Osteopathic Academy of Sports Medicine." Dr. Lagojski stroked his chin.

"Holly was also a top athlete in her day," added Jake. "She was one of the best college tennis players in the country. You can learn a lot from her about what it means to be a woman in an elite college experience." Helina was absolutely bursting at the seams with excitement.

"At any rate," interrupted Ms. Bandy, "I asked Mr. Packert here to go over the next steps, should you decide to accept. Jake?"

"Right," Packert said, walking behind her desk with his hands behind his back. "The first thing we would need to do is to schedule a four-hour block of time immediately, so we can begin your orientation. School starts in two weeks, and we have a long waiting list, so we need to make sure that our initial selections are truly right for the program." He paused and looked directly into Helina's eyes. She was melting inside. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it . . . Helina, right?" She shyly nodded. "This is an intensive affair. You'll receive a physical at the onset, courtesy of Dr. Packert. And then, we're going to see what you're made of with a series of tests we've devised to check your strength, endurance, and flexibility. Lastly, and I would be doing this especially for you, since basketball is your sport, you and me would do some technique work, followed by a one-on-one game."

"Oh my god, are you serious? For real?" she exclaimed, mouth wide open.

"Hey, I wanna see if I can still hang," Mr. Packert joked. "I've heard you're a bruiser." She snorted. This was going to be the best year of her life.

"We have an opening this Friday at eight a.m., or next Monday at one p.m. I'm afraid we'll need a decision as soon as possible." Helina could no longer bear it, and grabbed her father by the coat sleeve. He looked into her eyes and sighed. "How can I say no to this face?"

Mr. Packert turned his head to Ms. Bandy with a grin. Ms. Bandy responded in kind, Helina saw, with a wink.

On Friday at 6:45 in the morning, Helina drove to school by herself, parked in the senior lot, and grabbed her gym bag. She had come prepared, wearing high-tops, long red basketball shorts, and a AAU camp t-shirt, but she had brought a change of clothes in case she needed it. The new sports complex had just been completed over the summer break, on the other side of the parking lot, and this was her first chance to explore it. Beautiful, she thought. Modern. Legitimate. This is the best school in the world. She took the elevator to the second floor, where the Packerts' office resided. She hit the buzzer, and a moment later the door unlocked. Entering she followed the signs in the narrow hallway. She heard the door shut behind her.

"Helina! So good to meet you," called over Dr. Packert, as she stood from behind her desk, walking over to shake her hand. She had a white coat on and green scrubs underneath. Mr. Packert remained seated, typing on his phone. "Goodness, you're tall!" Helina blushed and shrugged. "I'll try not to get intimidated. You met Mr. Packert already, right?" He looked up and saluted. It was a large office, tastefully decorated, split by an imaginary line into the instructors' respective sides, with a white examination table in her corner, a small office basketball hoop in his, and a large mirror taking up the whole of back wall.

"Let's get the physical exam over right away, shall we?" suggested Dr. Packert, as she clicked her pen. "It should only take about fifteen minutes. Age?"

"Eighteen."

"And about how tall are you?"

"A hundred and eighty centimeters."

"Centimeters?" Dr. Packert squinted. "Are you making fun of me?" Helina laughed again.

"Uh, five feet, eleven inches. Sorry, I'm originally from Belarus," she said. "I still think in the metric system."

"Oh, I didn't know! How long have you been in the States?"

"This is my fourth year."

"You speak English perfectly," announced Mr. Packert. "I can't even detect an accent."

Helina's face was crimson from blushing so much: "I've been studying English all my life, and playing in camps in the US almost every summer since I was twelve."

"Smart, talented, and modest. That's a winning combination," added Dr. Packert. "Alright, let's check, just to be sure. Come with me over to the height rod for a measurement, if you wouldn't mind. Could you take your sneakers off please?" Helina did so, and put them to the side. "Also, please remove your shirt and shorts at this time."

"Oh," Helina let out. She looked over at Mr. Packert. He was still typing on his phone. "Uh . . . "

"Just to your underwear," Dr. Packert reassured. Mr. Packert swiveled his chair around and began working on his desktop's keyboard.

"O-kay," stammered Helina; hesitatingly, she loosened the string to her shorts, and took them down. I can't believe this, she thought. At least I'm wearing spandex shorts. With another glance at the male instructor, she removed her top, revealing a black sports bra.

"Up against the wall," requested the doctor. "What do you know, a hundred and eighty centimeters on the dot." She made notes on her clipboard. Mr. Packert looked over at her, pleased. "Your weight next." Nervously, Helina stepped on the scale, facing the wall. Her heart palpitated. Oh my god, I have a wedgie, she realized. She could feel his eyes on her backside. She exhaled and stared at the ceiling.

"One-thirty," remarked Dr. Packert. "Healthy for your size." She knew the doctor was right, but it sounded so much bigger than all the other girls. I'm such a freak, she told herself, as she looked at the couple in front of her. Even big guys like him go for tiny girls like her. Hilena briefly glanced at her cleavage. Short, but not tiny, not everywhere, she thought. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked at the clock. Only four minutes had passed.

After a series of other tests, each one practically designed to make her feel self-conscious about her body - all of her measurements, including arms, thighs, hips and bust; her BMI and fat percentage - Dr. Packert checked her back as part of a spinal exam, then asked: "Do you mind if I give you some constructive criticism?" Helina shook her head warily. "You tend to slouch."

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh, you sound like my mother." The doctor laughed.

"I know, I know . . . but it can be a bit of a problem, especially later in life. It's common in tall women . . . they feel different from the rest, and try to fit in by making themselves small. Not only is this bad for the body, it's worse for the mind, and a killer for the spirit."

Mr. Packert looked up from his computer screen. "You need to embrace your height. It gives you an advantage — not just in basketball, but in life! Trust me on this." He puffed out his chest, exaggerating his large, muscular frame. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

"He's right! I wish I had your stature. Anyway, I'm going to recommend regular back adjustments, on a weekly basis. Jake, you'll able to help her out with that, yeah?"

"If you insist," he replied without looking up.

"Well . . . okay, all set! Time to get you ready for the fun stuff," concluded Dr. Packert. Helina walked over toward her clothes. "Oh, just leave them there; we've got to get you your outfit for the day. What's your bra size?"

Helina's eyes darted left and right and down. "Uh, um, thirty-five B."

"And you had thirty-five inch hips . . . that's a size four, right?" Numbly the girl nodded. "'Kay! Be right back!" Here Hilena stood, mere feet in front of Mr. Jacob Packert, heartthrob of Franklin — famous, talented, and smoking hot — fantasy of every girl on campus from fourteen to forty — half-naked with her skinny arms still crossed over her average chest. He looked up again, and smiled politely. She averted her eyes, to the mirror at the wall, and began to study her own body. Is it good enough? She wondered. Am I good enough for this?

After what felt like forever, Dr. Holly Packert returned to the office. "Okay, here you are," she said, and she handed her a white two-piece suit on a hanger. There did not seem like nearly enough material on either piece.

"This is for . . .?" began Hilena.

"The workout portion. You'll be tested and timed for strength, endurance, and flexibility. You'll be running, jumping, swimming, and stretching, so you need something like this. This is an all-purpose triathlon suit." Hilena's eyes enlarged and her lips parted as if to speak, but nothing came out. "There's a bathroom you can change into in the hallway to the right." Helina took the suit, and walked like a zombie into the other room.

In the bathroom, she stripped and took the top off of the hanger. It was a sports bra style, made of stretch fabric, but it was cut like a string bikini. She put it on, just able to make it cover the bottoms of her small breasts, her long nipples visible through the cups. This is bad, she thought. Next she slipped on the bottoms, and looked at herself in the mirror. This is worse. They barely covered her crotch, and the back rode up in the shape of a small triangle. She felt naked and exposed. "I can't do this," she said out loud to herself.

Grow up, another part of her said. This is what you have to do to get what you want. They chose me; I'm considered elite. All I can do now is screw it up. She blew air from her lips, opened the door, and returned to the Packerts' office.

When she returned, Mr. Packert stood in front of the door, startling her.

She felt caught in a vise, immobile, and she could feel the blood rising to her face. She laughed nervously and bent her arms upward to cover her nipples. "Come on in," he urged softly.

"Where's Dr. Packert?"

"She's gone to do some prep work," he told her. "For the rest of the morning it's just you and me." They were alone together. "Everything okay?"

She took a deep breath. "Actually, no. I don't . . . feel comfortable exercising in this. With you." She swallowed hard. "No offense."

"I get it . . . awkward, right? I promise you I've seen it all. We come in all shapes and sizes; but I need to be able to see your body accurately to know how best to help you." He calmly walked behind her, shutting the office door. She felt his large strong hands on her shoulders; her nipples involuntarily stiffened. "Part of becoming a top-level athlete is learning to become one-hundred percent comfortable in your own skin," he explained, as he gently kneaded her trap muscles and her neck. ""Helina, do you know what my class is about?"

She was dissolving in his hands. "Physical education?" she slurred.

"Yes, but I'm afraid that name is associated with a kind of a joke class. My class is not a joke. We look to truly educate student-athletes about how to maximize their body's potential. It really should be called 'Mind/Body/Spirit Education, but I guess that sounds too hippie, huh?" She laughed stupidly. "The last couple of days, I've watched a lot of video of your play last year. And you know what? I saw a talented and driven athlete. You've got skills across the board . . . one of the best sky hooks I've seen at the high school level, boy or girl. Don't laugh, I'm dead serious!" Her face was flush.

"But I also saw a young girl who is still unsure of herself, just as I do right now." He looked at her eyes through the mirror: "Look at yourself. Tell me what you see."

She stuttered: "Like, like how . . . what?"

"Describe yourself to me," he asked again. "No judgment. Just what you see."