#wrestler tf

[coachs-locker-room]

Would love to be a hot wrestler in a wrestling singlet. Is this possible?

It's been a while since I last had an order of singlets, but I'm sure that I can find an old one of mine that you can borrow. A nimble fella like yourself should look into bulking up a bit - especially if you want to be in action on the team!

- -

Almost forgetting about the odd exchange at the gym until you were about to go to bed, you pulled the singlet out of your gym bag. You had a strange memory of being asked for something in return, but your mind went blank whenever you thought of what it was… nevertheless, feeling the fabric in your hands, you thought it would only be right to give the singlet a try on your next visit to the gym.

When the day came, your heart wanted to start racing as the tight fabric stretched across your legs and torso, but it never came. With a feeling of disappointment, both in yourself and the singlet itself, you realised that you didn't feel or look like the hot wrestlers you lusted after. Determined, and somewhat inspired by all of the 'New Year New You' content that had been everywhere this month, you took out your phone and snapped a pic for yourself. Clear that if you dared to share the image on social media, the ridicule from your friendship group would make you leave you even more crushed.

With a deep sigh, you pulled on a big hoodie and shorts, dumped two extra scoops of protein powder into your cup, and connected your headphones to the gym speaker system before leaving the locker room.

Within the first fifteen minutes, you started to feel the strangest effects surge through you. You could only compare it to being over-caffeinated, but you felt pure energy and confidence surging through you like electricity re-charging a battery. Smashing your last set, you pulled off your hoodie as you walked over to the water fountain for a break, and caught your reflection in the mirror. You don't have to worry about your friends any more - if anyone is doing the crushing, it's you.

—-

If you enjoyed this tf, you can send me a tip on Ko-Fi and for more tf locker room posts and to request your own, follow @coachs-locker-room Post tf- image of lil_cubcake on Instagram: link singlet image of @pup-trexx: link

[octuscle]

My wrestling coach of 6 years has been on my ass trying to get me to join him as his assistant coach. I’m not so interested as I have to prioritize my studies.

The problem is he keeps sending his dirty compression gear to my flat — I don’t get that. But something about that smell… it reminds me of him, his manliness… And I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a crush on him for the past 4 years… maybe I should accept his offer…

Well, crush is a harsh word… I mean, you started on the youth team in elementary school with your coach. You're a sophomore in college now. Sure you had a little crush on him when you were in high school. But you weren't really in love.

Since you've had a laundry basket full of his dirty clothes in your apartment, that's changed a bit. You dream about your trainer all the time. And the dream usually ends with rough sex. And a nocturnal ejaculation on your part. You're already sleeping in one of his wrestling singlets so you don't have to keep changing your bed. This prevents bigger messes.

When you get out of the shower this morning, freshly shaved all over, there's a knock at the door. Someone has left a package in front of the door. A wrestling singlet. It's still warm and damp with sweat. And someone has recently squirted into the singlet. It's actually disgusting. You actually have to go to class. But you have to try on the singlet. Now. Damn, it feels so great. The cum from Coach sticks to your smooth cock. You can feel his sweat on your skin. You smell your freshly shaved armpits. It's a good thing you haven't used deodorant yet. So you can smell Coach's musk and imagine it's yours. You have a boner. You play with your nipples. Your precum mixes with Coach's cum. And shortly afterwards you cum. An incredible amount!

You don't have time to shower. Your first marketing lecture starts in half an hour. You pull on a pair of jeans and a hoodie over your singlet, slip into socks and sneakers, grab your backpack and make your way to campus.

You could have saved yourself the day at university. You couldn't concentrate. You went to the toilet three times to have a wank. And as soon as you get back to your apartment, you wank the next time. It feels so great to come in Coach's singlet.

The next morning you wake up in your own university team singlet. You must have changed into it at some point while you were half asleep. Phew, you stink of sweat and cum. Yes, you remember… After training yesterday, there was a private wrestling session with Coach. He tried to use gentle force to persuade you to take on the job of assistant coach. The fight was great. But you don't want to. The fact that you let yourself be persuaded to switch from business studies to sports science a semester ago is the furthest thing from your mind. First lecture this morning is athletics. Not your favorite sport… But at least you don't have to shower. You take a deep breath from your bushy armpit. Fuck, yes! No wonder it drives Coach crazy. If you could, you'd fuck yourself.

Coach is still lying next to you, snoring. Today is your last fight as a student for your university. You're still wondering whether you should cut your hair for the graduation ceremony. Since you've been Coach's assistant, you've let your curls grow. But when you graduate, you'll also lose your assistant position. In two months, you will become a coach at your old high school. Best job you can imagine.

Pic found @athletic-collection

[jockifyme]

Graham presses his hand into the panel at the front of the water fountain, bringing his head down as he begins to slurp up the ice cold water. He looks down the hallway as he continues to drink, the building empty save for the theatre students running through the play for the third time that day. He faintly hears his cast mates half-heartedly reciting their lines as he wipes his mouth with his forearm, beginning his walk back to the theatre.

“Hey!” A gruff but familiar voice echos from behind him. Graham turns around and sees Travis, one of his classmates and probably the most popular guy at the school. Even though they were both sophomores, Travis more accurately resembles a roided up third year senior. He’s got a high faded buzzcut and a square jawed face, the quintessential meathead jock look. But from his interactions with him, Graham considers Travis a nice guy. he’s wearing their university’s wrestling uniform: a charcoal gray singlet with yellow and red stitching and the letters of the university’s city, San Ventura, plastered across the front. Underneath the letters, two humanoid shapes grapple each other.

“Uhh, what’s up, Travis?” Travis starts walking toward Graham, his wrestling shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. As he gets closer, Graham notices the beads of sweat glistening across his skin, the singlet doing very little to hide the movement of his muscles with each footfall. Graham takes a couple steps back, not looking away from Travis.

“Why are you acting so weird, dude?” Graham asks as he takes a few more back steps. Travis flashes a smile as he picks up his pace, transitioning to a jog as he continues moves closer to Graham.

Utterly freaked out, Graham turns and runs, looking over his shoulder to see that Travis has also begun to run. His heavy foot steps sounding closer to Graham with each passing second as Graham races toward the theatre.

“Dude, stop! What the hell?!” With the door to the theatre in sight, Graham pushes his body, trying to get his legs to move faster, but as he begins to reach out his arm, two sweaty, burly arms grab his around the waist and swing him backwards, away from the door.

“Let me go! This isn’t fucking funny!” Graham tries to writhe himself free, but he’s no match for Travis’s hold on him. The jock drags him to a door down the hall from the theatre’s door, labeled, “Men’s Locker Room.” He kicks the door a couple times, maintaining his grip on Graham, entering the locker room as it’s opened by two of his teammates. The other two jocks watch as Travis drags the puny theatre nerd into the dark room, pinning him against a row of lockers.

“Get the gear,” Travis says calmly to one of the jocks. Graham renews his struggle as he sees one of the jocks, one he doesn’t recognize, reach into a gym bag and pull out a set of yellow wrestling headgear. The third jock that had been standing there joins Travis in holding Graham in place as Travis slowly releases his grip on him.

“Please stop,” Graham says exasperated, tired from his near constant struggling since Travis first grabbed him. Travis takes the headgear in his hands as the jock that fetched it now joins in on the “pin Graham to the lockers” game. Their muscles glisten in the low-light locker room, both of them dressed in the same singlet as Travis, with short-cut hairstyles that Graham guesses is so no one can grab it while wrestling. Travis pulls a few straps on the headgear, loosening it up while inspecting Graham’s puny frame. The small theatre nerd looks like a stick figure next to his two teammates. He’s wearing a T-shirt with the university’s drama club’s logo on the front, and his blue jeans hang off his skinny legs. A pair of dirty vans cover his feet, recently scuffed from trying to escape Travis’s grasp not too long ago. He’s got long brown hair, curly and unkempt—not good for wrestling.

With the headgear straps loosened up, Travis takes the foam headgear and positions it over Graham’s head.

“Dude, what are you doing?!” Weirded out and without a response, Graham decides to let this play out so he can get out.

Travis methodically fastens the straps around Graham’s head. Graham feels as Travis’s hands reach around and tighten two straps running across the back of his head, one across the crown, and one running across the top of his forehead. The straps press against his skin, and with the tightness, his sense of hearing is muffled. He looks up as Travis nods at the two jocks on either side of him. They release him, letting him stand on his own.

He takes a breath as he plans to make a break for it, and he goes for it. But, his body does not follow. Instead, he walks over to the open gym bag that the jock grabbed the headgear from in the first place. He reaches inside, and against his will, he pulls out a singlet. He tosses it on the metal bench in front of the lockers as he begins to undress. Blushing furiously, he lifts his t-shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Next, he steps out of his shorts, revealing his baggy boxers underneath. He sits on the bench and bends over to plop off his socks and shoes. Almost fully undressed, he finds himself breathing shallower. He looks down to see his body is covered in sweat. Travis smirks at him as Graham’s body turns to grab the singlet. With it in hand, he pulls down his boxers and steps out of them. Utterly mortified, Graham body shakes the singlet out. Holding by the straps, he steps into it and shimmies it up his body, the sweat from his body being absorbed into the fabric as it makes its way up his body. The singlet had definitely seen the mat many times before, with the pungent odor of sweat and must quickly filling his nostrils, making him dizzy. He mindlessly readjusts his enlarged dick in the tight fabric as he turns back to the bag. He sits back down again and pulls out a pair of black socks and black adidas wrestling shoes. As he’s putting on the socks, his breathing changes. He begins to instinctively take deeper breaths, pushing against the almost constrictive spandex, with each breath feeling like his lungs are getting bigger, taking in more oxygen.

Travis and the two jocks watch as Graham begins to grow before their eyes. As he pulls the socks over his feet, they lengthen, pushing further and further into the sock. His legs do the same, growing in the length and definition—his calves pop out as his thighs begin to show some shred. Underneath the singlet, the three can see Graham’s pecs billow, straining against the fabric of the singlet. His arms are next, growing similar to the arms that grabbed him only a few minutes ago. His biceps and deltoids pack on muscle, crucial for taking down opponents on the mat. His hands thicken as he begins to tie his shoes, losing their delicacy and growing to grapple.

Graham feels like crying, but his body won’t let him. He watches in terror as his hands shake and change before his eyes as he goes to tie his new wrestling shoes. His fingers shorten and thicken, and as he ties his last shoe, he feels a tickling feeling from his head. He starts to stand, and he sees a pile of hair on the bench and floor below where he had been sitting. Travis opens one of the lockers, revealing a small mirror that had been attached to the back. Graham gasps as he sees himself: Underneath the headgear, his long hair had been reduced to a fade to match the three jocks standing in front of him. The fade is tight against his scalp on the sides, with length only on top. A tuft of hair billows out over his forehead, the only thing separating him from Travis’s military-grade buzz. He feels sick as he continues standing, and though trembling, his body reaches up and takes the last strap of the headgear, the chinstrap, in his hand. He reaches his other burly hand up and confidently tightens the strap under his chin, tightens it, and clicks it into place. With this resounding click, Graham’s vision zeroes in on his reflection in the mirror.

Travis and the other two jocks watch as Graham stares at himself in the reflection, his body twitching ever so slightly as his old personality, memories, and life are wiped. He’s gonna be one of them now: A C-student that’s riding a wrestling scholarship, spending his free time at the gym or at parties. A complete and utter-

“Bro!” Travis is snapped out of his soliloquy as Graham goes to dap him up.

“Bro!” Travis reciprocates the dap and pats his new teammate Graham on the back. “Dude we’ve gotta get outta here. The janitor’s gonna wonder why we���re still here so late after practice.”

“Fuck, dude, you’re right. Let’s get out of here.” Graham grabs his gym bag and stuffs his headgear into it. He grabs a pair of gray sweatpants from within and quickly changes into them. Following his teammates into the night and his new life as a jock.

Graham after his first (?) wrestling match, two weeks since incident.

-

Also, thank y’all so much for 1,400 followers! That’s insane. Thanks for the support of my sporadic uploads

[hotmentransformed]

Secret Stoner Lover

Jack and Matt were the town stoners. They were always running off somewhere to light up and unwind. During their lunch period at school, they decided to take their smoking sesh to the forest. Last time they had lit up in the parking lot, they were caught and suspended, and they couldn't afford an expulsion. So once the bell rang, they quickly headed for the exit and the treeline on the edges of the soccer field.

After a few steps into their trek into the shrubbery, the two boys plopped down on the grass and pulled out a joint and a lighter. After only a few hits, they were laughing it up and having a blast. In between an exceptionally long bout of laughter, Jack glanced to his right, only to see a blue Adidas wrestling singlet tangled in a bush. Lifting his body slowly, he strolled over to the singlet and picked it up, examining it curiously. "Hey, that looks pretty dope," he said to Matt, holding it up. "I wonder who left it here."

He was drawn to this singlet. Something about it called to him. Despite the fact that he was with his best friend, Jack stripped to his underwear and slipped the singlet on. He felt a sudden surge of power coursing through his veins. His muscles began to bulge and expand, causing the singlet to stretch tightly across his chest, biceps, and thighs. His massive bulge pressing tightly against the lycra constraint. Matt watched in awe as Jack's body transformed before his eyes, his once scrawny frame now replaced by rippling muscles and sinewy veins.

Jack's arms were now thicker than Matt's thighs, and his chest was broad and chiseled. His six-pack abs looked like they were carved out of marble, and his thighs were now so massive that the singlet looked like it was about to burst at the seams.

As Jack flexed his newfound muscles, Matt couldn't help but admire the way his friend looked. Jack's biceps bulged as he flexed them, the veins in his forearms pulsing with power. Matt had always been a fan of muscular guys, but he had never seen anyone quite like Jack.

"Damn, man, you look amazing!" Matt exclaimed, staring at Jack with a mix of awe and admiration.

Jack grinned, feeling a surge of pride in his chest. He was no longer the scrawny stoner that he used to be. He sat on the grass, flexing his muscles, as Matt sat beside him, admiring his massive body.

Staring back at Matt, who was lost in his lust, Jack began to feel a strange emotion toward him. They had been friends all their lives, so they obviously liked being near each other... but this was something more. Jack couldn't explain it, but he felt drawn to Matt in a way he had never felt before.

He brought his massive hand up to his head, trying to figure out his feelings. New memories seeped into his head, forcing out his past life as a scrawny good-for-nothing stoner.

The more Jack thought about it, the more he became convinced that this was his true identity. He had no memory of who he was before putting on the singlet, but he knew deep down that he was meant to be with Matt.

Together, they continued to smoke and enjoy each other's company, reveling in their love for one another. The captain of the wrestling team, and his secret stoner lover.

[avegaytfenjoyer]

Could you transform me into a singlet for the wrestler Robby Smith?

Hope this is what you expected!

[imthursdaysyme]

If I said Luchador Steve harrignton,,

[coachs-locker-room]

Any wrestling singlets left unattended? Would love to become a hot wrestling jock.

As far as I’m concerned, there is always space for a new wrestler on my team. Not that it matters, but I’ve noticed we have had a few shortages. Our fellas enjoy the feeling of dominating the other lads so much that they start pushing themselves out of their weight classes. It’s easy to keep packing on the muscle and mass when you have a head start from their Coach, I guess.

Now, lad - go into the last locker on the left and try on the grey singlet on for size. Code is 3-6-5, and make sure you click the lock twice before opening. I’ll see you out in the hall in 15.

There we go! You look just the part: tall, broad shoulders and able to pin any opponent down, as long as you’re quick enough. You might feel a bit disoriented at first, but once you get this headgear on you’ll find that raw instinct and muscle memory will finds its way - trust your Coach.

You’re up next, kid! Make me proud!

[octuscle]

This ongoing Tom Holland story is fun. But “The Dutch” needs a serious haircut and some other adjustments to make him a real man, don’t you think?

In the current issue of Attitude, Tom "The Dutch" Holland talks about wrestling and homosexuality and about the eroticism of sweat and faux leather in the dressing rooms of WWE arenas in an extraordinarily revealing way.

After his image change, "The Dutch" is sexier than ever. Many of his fans cried out when Tom cut off his mullet and decorated his skin with tattoos. It may have cost him some fans. But if the number of his followers on Instagram and TikTok is to be believed, the radical haircut was exactly the right step in the right direction.

It's hardly surprising that a wrestler who dresses the body of an Adonis in black faux leather has many fans, especially in the gay community. Find out what this has to do with his new style in our interview with a man who is not afraid to be photographed without any wrestling gear.

[doctapuella]

oh my god gabe just did that for me specifically im so happy

[hotmentransformed]

A Stolen Singlet

You had never done anything like this before! You had always dreamed of this, but never had the courage to go through with it. This was exciting! You told everyone in the robotics lab that you needed to head home early to get ahead on your AP Calculus homework. That was a lie. You grabbed your backpack and began heading in the general direction of the exit, but you had no intention of leaving. Instead, you turned down the adjacent hallway and headed straight for the locker room. The wrestling team had just finished practice and had headed out for the day. You knew that they were gone because their deep voices resonated through the hall as they walked past the lab just a few minutes prior.

Once you reached the locker room, you breathed in the humid air: it was a mix of steam from the showers and musk. You scanned through the cubbies and found what you were hoping to find: one of the wrestlers had left their singlet.

Those dumb oafs always forgot their bags and stuff in class, so you had figured that maybe they would forget something else in the locker room, and wow you were excited at the gift they left behind for you. Picking the white fabric up, your hand instantly became damp. Damn, whoever just wore this really worked up a sweat. Lifting it to your nose, you took a deep inhale. The stench of body odor and sweat filled your senses. It was intoxicating. Your measly member began twitching at the pure manliness that was engulfing you. You contentedly unzipped your bag and placed the smelly singlet inside.

Your walk home felt like forever, but in reality was short, as you were almost running because you were so impatient for what came next. Entering your home, you beelined for your bedroom. Closing the door behind you and locking it, you ripped the still-damp singlet out of your backpack. Lifting it once again to your nose, the sweet stench was pure ecstasy. Your dick began to swell again, but instead of fighting it, you began to rub it. God, it smelled so good.

You couldn't wait to try it on.

Wild with lust, you dropped the singlet to your feet and began unclothing, nearly tripping over yourself as you lifted your hairless chicken legs through the pant legs. In an orgasmic frenzy, you ripped your shirt off, exposing your pasty, gangly torso. Finally, you reached your underpants, throwing them aside and letting your painfully erect cock bob in the open air. Lifting your legs and placing them through the singlet, you began to place the fabric over your body. It was massive. You could fit both of your legs through one pant hole, and the shoulder straps didn't hold it up, as your thin back wasn't wide enough to catch them. It didn't matter. It smelled so good. You reached around the front and found your dick and began stroking it.

The sweat imbued in the singlet began to change you. Your dick, as you rubbed, it began to thicken, growing girthier and longer, dark hair swirling over top. Your small hand stroking your new massive dick began to thicken and stretch. Each finger cracking and popping and becoming stout sausages on your hands. Your forearms tensed as they grew thick and veiny. Your biceps were pumped with both fat and muscle, growing strong and forcing your shoulders apart to accommodate the extra mass. Your armpits became forests of hair, producing the same sweet stench and sweat in the singlet that intoxicated you. Your back cracked and widened allowing the shoulder straps to hold firmly. Massive pecs pushed their way from your chest, becoming enormous mounds and forming a crevice, straining the front of the singlet, as your nipples hardened and became even more sensitive, the contact with the singlet driving your lust further. Your stomach tightened with washboard abs, only to soften as you filled out the singlet. Still jerking off through the singlet, you felt your thighs explode with muscle, squeezing your dick, and sending you further into your frenzy. Your ass swelled into two globes, the same dark hair swirling its way from your dick and covering your massive ass in hair. Your calves grew as your pace quickened. Your feet grew to size 15s. Each toe cracked and popped as your feet splayed across the floor to support your massive frame. Your feet reeked! Of course, they did, you just got back from practice.

Oh god… you were so close…

With a deep bellow, you came into your singlet. Bringing your hand to the wet spot at the front, you scooped a bit of the salty liquid and brought it to your mouth. Sucking on your finger, you moaned at the taste of your own sweat, funk, and spunk. No wonder why all of those freshmen on the team loved the taste of you. They couldn't get enough of you! You had even caught one of them taking a whiff of your singlet after you got out of the shower after practice today. That didn't bother you, though. He wasn't as big as you, but he was still muscled, hot, and his ass was just right. The glint in his eyes as you dropped the towel told you everything you needed to know. You couldn't wait for tomorrow's practice. Let's just say, it's good to be captain of the wrestling team.

[batteredhilt]

Caring for 1 kitten and 2 barely 1 year old feral cats at the same time while trying to domesticate them and make them fully inside cats while also not abruptly changing their lives to slowly get them used to the indoors… fucking insane…. But I feel this obligation because my neighbors hate animals and have no regard for life even human life and are republican pieces of shit and Halloween is coming and I can’t live with myself knowing 3 black cats will be out around that

[leaveharmony]

Liked h*nare so much better when he was just boring

You can get behind boring, you can root for boring, it’s not possible to root for queerphobic toxic masculinity

[punk-rocking-rose]

some of my jobber* wrestlers

Cody Brodes: totally not based off the fact that cody bleeds in every match. this wrestler even bleeds in promos and on his way to the ring.

The Masked Wrestler: literally just a different wrestler each time under the mask. nobody questions why they're 5' with boobs and pale skin one day and 6' flat with dark skin the next

Filthy Caz: short for filthy casuals. think basement anime incel loser who doesnt bath

*jobber is a wrestler who's purpose is just to lose/make others look good