Proud to be a Meathead Football Jock
Last update
2021-06-13 02:13:12

    Timothy was snooping around in the locker room when he saw the 24 kit lying around, as if one of the jocks had just thrown it off and vanished. What was strange to Timothy was he did not know of a 24, nor why it smelt of fresh jock. It was on odd smell, but he knew it from his frequent trips to see what was left after the college football team had finished practice for the day. Fresh sweat, combined with the slight staleness from the misssed washings.

    Picking up the jock cup and taking a deep inhale. It was fresh., and Timothy’s favourite part of the team’s uniform. Without knowing whose it was, and clearly all of the other jocks had gone home he carefully picked it up and managed to just about cram it in his backpack (even if it meant he had to carry the textbooks that normally took up most of the room).

    The walk home was a little hazy to Timothy. He kept smelling the jock sweat, as if it were still fresh. As if it were radiating off him. His head felt fuzzy and after almost numb fixing something to eat, he headed off to his bedroom where he got out the gear.

    Completely within it’s grasp, he stripped down entirely naked and started with the cup and jockstrap, and then the pads, top and then the trousers. Jock. Jock. Jock. That’s all that he could think of through his mind.

    The next day was saturday and he awoke in a haze with fresh air. He wasn’t in his bed. He was outside. Held in place.

    “Tim, wake up.” demanded the coach. Tim snapped immediately all of his attention to the coach. After all, coach gave the orders.

    Sowly a helmet was placed over his head as his head slowed down. All he could do was the coach’s orders. Jock up. Dumb down. Jock up. Dumb down.


    Great! How about an intelligent ace guy ends up tutoring this dumb jock who realises what an asset he’d be to the school’s struggling football team because of how strong and and athletic he is. But playing footballs and fucking hot chicks just isn’t his scene, so the jock conspires with his coach to slowly transform him into a football bro and make him love everything about life as a straight jock.


    Cliff posted another shirtless selfie to his feed. He didn’t exactly know why, but whenever he posted one, his engagement rate spiked up. He balanced that out with pictures of him reading books in their native Russian and doing other academic tasks. Cliff didn’t pay any attention to the thirsty comments under his shirtless pics because he was an aromantic asexual. He didn’t find anybody attractive, which mean he had more time to tutor at his college. 

    This semester, he was tutoring a football jock named Brick, in that Brick was his actual legal name. Brick was just barely scraping by, and he had been threatened with being kicked off the team if his grades didn’t increase by the end of the semester. The first time the two met, Brick was shocked at how fuckin’ swole his tutor was. “Wow, dude! Ever thought about playing football or something?”

    “I don’t waste my time on frivolous matters such as sports. Now, what area of academia are we focusing on today?”


    “Which class do you need help with?” The tutoring session went surprisingly well, and Brick did learn a lot. After the session ended, he made his way to his coach’s office. Coach Nelson had just gotten an alert that Brick had finished his first tutoring session. 

    “Son, just having one tutoring session isn’t gonna change my mind. I need to see A’s and B’s on your report card at the end of the semester.” 

    “I know, I know, Coach. But I think my tutor can be a great asset to the team.”

    “We already have a scrawny nerd from the stats department.”

    “No, look at him!” Brick had found Cliff’s Instagram, and showed Coach Nelson the pictures of the buff nerd. 

    “Well, let’s get him in my office ASAP!” Coach Nelson was looking for any way to keep the program alive. It was on its last legs, and if they didn’t win a championship in the next two years, it would be shuttered. 

    “That’s the problem, Coach. He’s not into football. Fuck, he’s not even into people!”

    “That is a problem. Wait here, Brick. I need to grab something from the back room.” Brick patiently waited in the office as Coach grabbed something from the back room. Nobody was allowed back there except Coach Nelson. It was both his private place and where the jockification solution was kept. Coach Nelson hadn’t believed in that shit before, but after seeing one of his classmates become a jock, he knew it was legit. However, there was no way to make more, so he had to make it count. This Cliff dude seemed like the perfect man to make into a jock. 

    He returned to Brick with a vial of the jockification solution in his hand. “Now, son, you need to make sure that Cliff drinks every last drop of this solution.”

    “Okay Coach!” Brick kept the vial safe in his dorm room until the next tutoring session. Thankfully, Brick didn’t need to do anything convoluted to get Cliff to drink the solution. His tutor brought his HydroFlask everywhere, and when Cliff went to grab a book from the library’s shelves, Brick poured the vial in. No one saw what happened, and he watched as Cliff continually drank from the water bottle, none the wiser that it was now drugged. 

    The solution didn’t work overnight, but it certainly worked fast. The next morning, as Cliff was walking to class, he began to notice women’s breasts and asses. That honestly wasn’t a new sight for him, but what was new was that he was getting hard! He didn’t know why. He did jerk off to naked pictures and videos of women, but he also did the same to men too. Both triggered the same reaction in his brain. But the men weren’t attractive to him now, especially those jocks who loved wearing their tight Under Armor stuff everywhere. 

    Classes went well, but when he went back to his dorm room, instead of getting caught up on the newest HBO hit drama, he decided to see what was on ESPN. He was never a sports guy before, but he found himself glued to the channel until it was time for his next class. That was definitely a bit weird, especially his newfound love of football. The next couple of days were pretty much the same. Cliff found himself slowing becoming more and more straight and more and more like a stereotypical jock. 

    He also noticed another change. He seemed to be getting dumber. His classes were not that much more advanced than Brick’s, but he was now making careless mistakes or plainly not understanding what he had just learned. He brushed it off, knowing that his desire for women and football was getting in the way of school. He was still helpful to Brick at their next tutoring session, but the football player could tell his tutor was well on his way to becoming a jock. 

    That weekend, Cliff found himself walking through the quad during the evening. He caught the eye of one of his fellow students, known for being one of the biggest sluts on campus. Regina had tried to woo Cliff, but when she learned he was asexual, she stopped. Tonight, though, she reconsidered, as she noticed Cliff staring at her in her revealing get-up, and adjusting his crotch. She sauntered over to him, making sure her breasts jiggled enough. “Cliff, I saw you watching me. Is there something you want to tell me?”

    “Uh, yeah, Regina, there is. I never noticed this about you before, but you are one hot motherfucker!”

    “Thanks, honey. Do you want to go back to your place and fuck my brains out?”

    “Fuck yeah! But I’ve, um, never actually fucked someone before.” 

    “It’s okay, baby. Regina will show you the ropes.” The two of them had some pretty hot sex, especially considering that Cliff was a virgin. He even came inside of Regina! 

    “FUUUCK, that felt so fuckin’ good!” he screamed, flopping down onto his bed after cumming. 

    “You were missing out on a lot, honey,” Regina noted, before getting dressed and leaving. Cliff found himself sleeping with more and more women with every passing day. He was also now struggling in his class, and he was barely a help to Brick now. In fact, Brick had teach him something! In the gym, Cliff found himself gravitating towards Brick and the other football jocks, instead of just keeping to himself. About two weeks after Cliff had unwittingly ingested the jockification solution, one of Brick’s teammates asked him a question. 

    “Have you considering joining the football team, man?” 

    “Hunh, I’ve never thought about it before. Yeah, I will!” Coach Nelson was pleased to see Cliff in his office later that day. Cliff got officially signed up, and he started practicing the next day. Thanks to Cliff, the college won the championship that year and the year after that! The freshmen next year were always puzzled when they heard stories about what their dumb womanizing captain was like last year, a smart and studious nerd who was aromantic and asexual. None of them looked into it, though, as Cliff hooked them up with a bunch of hot chicks at the ragers he threw every weekend instead of studying.


    Defensive Drone


    “Flex for me.” 

    “Ew, fuck no! Wha…?” Pierson said, as he flexed his arm and showed off his meaty bicep. He didn’t want to do it, and in fact he was trying to willing himself to stop flexing! “What have you done to me!?” he cried out. 

    “Oh, you don’t remember?” his coach asked, with a devilish smirk on his face.


    The NFL Draft was getting a bit more buzz this year than it normally did. There wasn’t a superstar college player involved; in fact, it was the complete opposite of it! The Bears, who had the first pick of the draft, were rumored to be picking someone no one would have ever expected in a million years to be chosen first. Pierson Darby was not what anyone thought of when it came to football. He was skinny, and not even a toned skinny like most running backs were. Pierson didn’t even have a position, as he hadn’t played football a day in his life before! 

    The Bears spent even more money getting him into the Draft, and as was expected, he was picked first, much to the shock and awe of practically everyone in the building. The head coach of the Bears, Evan Semper, had some plans for Pierson, which he was going to put into effect soon. However, because the first night of the Draft was always the most glitziest, Coach Semper needed to be onstage to hand the jersey to the various new additions to the team. His assistant could take over for the next few days. 

    Pierson got up bright and early the next morning, on his new coach’s orders. Even he didn’t know why Coach Semper saw something in him. He did like all of the money he was getting, but he wasn’t sure that he was the right guy to be spending it on. He arrived at the training facility, where Coach Semper was waiting for him. “Pierson, nice to see you here! Please, follow me.” He naturally obeyed his coach’s orders, and followed him inside and to an elevator. He passed some turf fields and a gym, so as Coach pressed “B5″ on the elevator pad, Pierson spoke up. 

    “Uh, Coach Semper, sir, what exactly are we doing here?”

    “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, Pierson.” The elevator ride was naturally short, and when the doors slid open, it was not at all what Pierson was expecting. It seemed to be a busy laboratory in sub-basement 5, with a bunch of people in lab coats walking all around. Pierson was so shocked by what he was seeing that he didn’t notice Coach Semper take out a needle and stab Pierson with it. It was incredibly fast-acting, and Pierson barely registered that he had even been stabbed before slumping to the ground. 

    Two men, actually two of Pierson’s teammates on the defensive line, lifted him up and dragged him to the nearest lab room. Once the players left, it wasn’t long until the doctors came in. “So, this is Mr. Darby?” asked one of the doctors, who looked quite distinguished and in charge. 

    “Yeah, this is him. So, what’s first? We’ve never done a complete procedure before, right?”

    “Correct. Mr. Darby will be our guinea pig, to use the colloquial term. First things first, he needs muscle.” The doctor, a Dr. Gregory Ashford, motioned to some of the other doctors, who took out needles of their own. They injected them all over Pierson’s lifeless body, the poor man not reacting at all to the injections. However, it wasn’t long at all before muscle growth happened all over his body, from his neck all the way down to his legs. It was Coach Semper’s turn to look on in awe as Dr. Ashford explained what had happened. 

    “It appears as though our accelerated steroids were a success. Mr. Darby will hover around this muscle mass for approximately two years without needing to worry about his diet or even working out. We are not sure what will happen after the two years, but our studies with mice have shown that another injection will not kill them.”

    “Sweet!” Coach Semper said, looking at the bulky man sitting across from him. The same knockout solution was injected again, as even more of the players on the Bears helped to bring Pierson to another room. This room was almost exactly the same as the last room, except that Dr. Ashford had some different doctors with him, and there was a fleshlight on the counter for everyone to see. “So, uh, um, what’s this step?” he asked. He had never done this step with any of his other players. 

    “Well, the front office does enjoy our endeavors, Mr. Semper, but they are costly. Mr. Darby here will be whored out as a sex slave to some rich clients. Of course, with his programming later on, he’ll be a perfect and willing sex slave. This procedure is to increase sperm production, reduce his refractory period, and increase Mr. Darby’s penile length and girth. Bigger is better, as they say.” 

    Coach Semper had to look away as more than one needle was plunged into Pierson’s cock after the fleshlight was used to get his cock hard. There weren’t that many outward effects to this procedure, but when he finally turned around again, Pierson had a cock befitting his new massive frame now. The same players from before lugged him into the next room after Pierson got yet another knockout shot. This was an operating room, with a whole bunch of equipment inside. Dr. Ashford didn’t let Coach Semper enter. 

    “You know the rules. You can watch in the gallery,” he said, as he prepared to scrub in for surgery. Coach Semper didn’t even bother to watch this time, as this procedure had been done on a number of his players before. Dr. Ashford and his team of neurosurgeons implanted a microchip inside of a player’s skull so that Coach Semper could control his every move and even thought. Instead, he went to Pierson’s file on the computer system connected to the microchips and began uploading all of the information that he would need, both to play football and how to be a good bottom for the rich gay men who would be helping to finance this procedure. 

    The surgery didn’t take long, and soon enough, Pierson was up and about in the sub-basement for the first time, but not of his own volition. Coach Semper waited a few weeks before showing Pierson Darby to the world again. People were shocked at how beefy he had become in just over a month’s time. The NFL’s tests showed that he didn’t have any traces of steroids or other illegal substances in his body, and so they were forced to let him play. He was an excellent linebacker, and the top pick for that in fantasy drafts his second year of playing. 

    He had been “allowed” to buy the house that he was in above during his second year of playing, and after the season was over, he was involved in a photoshoot for Attitude Magazine. His extracurricular activities with gay male clients had “leaked,” but thanks to the programming, Pierson took it in stride. Coach Semper was at the photoshoot, as he was to be involved in a few pictures and was going to be interviewed beside Pierson as well. It was a good thing that he was there, as a side effect from the number of drugs coursing around in his system and the microchip appeared. 

    As the camera flashed as Pierson posed, Coach Semper could tell that something was up. Pierson looked like he was coming out of hypnosis in a way, realizing what was going on around him. Unfortunately, the photographer continued to flash away before Coach Semper could intervene, and by that point, it was too late. “What’s going on here?” Pierson asked, wondering why he was half-naked and in some weird house, and getting his picture taken too. 

    “Flex for me,” Coach Semper said. It was a weird command in the moment, but Coach Semper wanted to see if all of the conditioning had been erased. Of course, it wasn’t, as Pierson did just that. 

    “Ew, fuck no. Wha…? What have you done to me!?”

    “Oh, you don’t remember?” Coach Semper replied, but he added some more. “You were just a weak little man before I came along and made you into a football star. I guess the chip in your brain is malfunctioning or something. I’ll have the doctors check it out.”

    “Doctors!?” Pierson screamed. “What the fuck, dude!?”

    “It’s ‘Coach,’ Pierson, I do hope you remember that. I’m sorry, we’ll have to reschedule,” Coach Semper said to the photographer and interviewer. “Pierson, follow me.” Pierson tried to resist, but the programming in the chip was much too strong still, even though it had been weakened somewhat. He was forced to sit in the passenger seat as Coach Semper drove him back to the training facility. Along the way, more and more of his memories started coming back from the time that he was under control. It was mostly football related, but it didn’t take long for some of his sexual memories to come flooding back. 

    “You whored me out to fuckin’ men!?” Pierson screamed. He had been ordered to stay completely still by Coach Semper once he got into the car, so Coach wasn’t too worried about the outburst. 

    “Yes, we did,” he replied, with the same devilish smirk from just a few minutes ago. “This process isn’t cheap, you know, and we can only bring in so much money from revenue and sponsorships. And all of the clients loved having a beefy football player that would do whatever they wanted.” As Coach Semper explained what had happened, some of the more dirty and perverted fetishes appeared in Pierson’s memory. 

    “Fuck you, dude! I’m calling the fuckin’ cops on you, dude!”

    “Well, you can’t do that, Pierson, literally. And you’ll be taking a nice little vacation in the lab as we figure out what to do with you. Oh, and shut up until I tell you to speak again.” Pierson was forced to be silent for the rest of the ride to the facility, although he was mouthing swears quite often. Once at the facility, he was ordered to follow Coach inside and go down to the sub-basement, where the doctors were waiting for the two of them. Dr. Ashford was ready with an explanation. 

    “It had to have been some of the accelerated steroids or penile growth drugs that interacted with the microchip in some unknown way. We’ll get to the bottom of this, Mr. Semper. Is Mr. Darby still able to be controlled?”

    “Yeah, but he’s in control of his vocal cords now. He should do every other task you say, though.”

    “Excellent.” Pierson was forced to go into yet another lab room where various tests and procedures were done on him. It did take a couple weeks, but Dr. Ashford and his team finally found out how the microchip and drugs interacted and why the camera flash lessened the control. Coach Semper was quite excited to see Pierson mindlessly waiting for orders when he arrived back at the lab. “We’ve done it!” Dr. Ashford said, showing the most emotion he had in years. “We’ve created the perfect sex slave who can also be programmed to do literally anything.”

    “Perfect,” Coach Semper said. Pierson appeared on the practice field the next day, and soon enough, other teams were creating men just like Pierson. In fact, the 2032 Draft’s first round was filled with weak skinny twinks who hadn’t played a day of football in their life! The other major sports leagues soon got in on the fun, and by that point, anybody could become an athlete, as long as you were willing to give up total control and become a mindless drone. 


    Jock captain

    Finally, the captain of the sports team is standing there without a soul! What a struggle it was to pull Johnson out of his body into the soul trapper stone. He fought well but he failed as his body goes limp waiting for whoever takes him over.

    My friend agreed to help me as he pulled me out of my body and released me into Johnson! I woke up feeling so strong and sexy as I'm adjusting to my new build, this body felt incredible knowing I work out daily and love to play sports. I knew everything about Johnson as I smirk in the mirror, feeling so dumb and Jockish. All these pussies I have fucked over the last few months was getting me hard.

    I got to focus on fucking some of my closet jocks as they would beg to have my cock and not to let me down.

    The new Johnson is here!


    Quick note, part one. Remember my transformation fantasy? I found a picture that personifies it. I look into his beautiful eyes and simply wish for his life and body… 

    Pic taken from http://guysineedtofck.tumblr.com


    careful what you wish for bro. the UA logo was designed to draw you in, to batter your mind with its simplicity. everywhere you look, you see it. you say it doesn’t affect you, but that just means it hasn’t gotten through to you yet, but it will. you’ll see. it’s not like the gear is impractical, right? it’s actually really comfortable, and feels great on your skin whether its compression gear, socks, even just one of their light, loose T-shirts, bro. they make jockstraps, too, but i don’t think you’re ready for that just yet… unless you are.

    and that’s just the beginning, man, the gateway drug. at that point, it’s just like, why fight it?

    Aight bros

    Take a breath

    Take it deep

    Like ur trying to fill everything

    Then pack ur smarts in there and blow the fuck out

    U don't need that shit

    Do it over and over til u feel dumb n ready

    Gimme 10 pushups and hmu with a 'done bro'

    Then ull start getting addicted huhuh

    Like me, bros

    Breathe deep

    Get rid of ur smarts

    And fall into it


    I'm a 30 year old soft spoken gay PhD Student. Can you make me a dumb, smelly, gassy jock frat boy?

    You really should hunt have wasted all that money and time getting a phd just to turn around and wish it away. But that’s ok. Sorry free is the kind of life I’m sure you’ll be happier with. First we are going to hav to change your major. I’m not sure what your PhD major was but from now on you’re going to me a sports major. Just starting school. And literally not passing any classes. You just thought it would be fun to go to college. Now that we have this done with you’re school career we need to make changes to help you fit this new role. So from a skinny thin man you’re going to start packing on some muscle. A lots of it. Your going to look like you spend lots of time in the gym. And smell like it too as your hormones kick into overdrive and testosterone starts to leak from every pour of your body. Tattoos are going to start forming on your arms and chest. Just the start of many more to come. As your feet grow to a massive 15 wide abs get smelly instantly. Even getting athletes foot from all the times your showing in public spaces. But you don’t even register that as your face shifts and becomes more masculine as the muscles in your back pull you taller and your chest popping out some. You lose your need for those nerdy glasses you had before. And take them off. Now. To complete this look you’re going to have to be dumb. And I mean DUMB. probably one of the dumbest men I’ve ever made. An iq of 70 and literally laughing at everything as you’re in a constant state of euphoria which that empty head of yours. You spend your stone working out and shot gunning beers with your bros. School is for smart people. If it wasn’t for that one nerd with the phd doing your homework now you would have flunk out already. And he just now started doing that after you had to threaten to really work him out with your dumb alpha male body. Your old life of being that PhD student is going to be hit a fond memory. Hell. It won’t even be that because your just a big dumb jock now. You might want to go and get that athletes foot checked out though. You literally smell like the locker room now. And it doesn’t help yours always sweating either.


    I'm tired of my life man. No job, no purpose, no partner etc. And I am aware it's probably far from the truth, but being a horny alpha bro seems so pleasant. Think you can make that happen bro? I don't care about the consequences.

    It's not like you'll consider dumbed down and horned up all the time as consequences when you always believe that's the state of your mind. Oh, you think I wouldn't clean your mind first before working on your body? Well, rather than choosing which part to keep and which part to let go, I preferred to wipe it all and built your brain from that clean slate. Just to be more time efficient, you know.

    Why, you ask? Well, I wanted to give you the best physique that would scream dumb douchebag from miles away. So, let's see, definitely wouldn't describe your face as demured and feminine-like as if you are some yes-man associate lawyer with no sex life, it's more on the handsome and slack-jawed type of face. Skinny is definitely out from the conversation when we describe your body. It's jacked-up, smelly, and just like as if you are always pumping iron during every free time you have. And it's going to keep growing, after all you're just 20. Yeah, 20. Do you really think you can fool anyone and claim yourself as 32 years old? 24 maybe, but definitely not 32 lol, what are you? Dumb? Oh right, you are indeed dumb. But ladies wouldn't give you the time of their day with just that, right? It's that schlong that give you the comparative advantage among the other jocks in your campus. It's not only long, it's hella fat too. Rested and it's almost as thick as a beer can, just imagine the kind of power when that monster split open some pussy, or boipussy. Of course you are straight, but when you are in need of a relief, any hole could work wonder, right?

    So, bro, flex that muscle and start looking, someone in the proximity might be drenched already upon seeing you, and even if no one sees you, there's nothing wrong with flexing and showing off the muscle that you worked so hard. After all, what's the purpose of being so muscular if you will just hide it in some oversized sweater?


    How to pick up dudes in the gym. “Hey bro, I think I need a spot.”


    Hey bro, I think I need to stop time so we can peel off our sweaty gym shorts and I can start whaling on your awesome dick with my mouth…..


    Roided bros lifting and growing together at the gym. That’s the kind of male bonding you long for. The mutual growth… injecting your bro with roids and being injected by him yourself. Knowing you are actually playing a huge role in his growth. The feeling when watching your bro blow up with muscle all over while realizing the same thing is happening to your own body. And of course, touching his newfound roided body as he fondles your muscles too, that mutual worship filled with amazement and lust, almost not believing how big and alpha looking you are becoming. Getting cockier and more arrogant by the day as you both push yourselves to the limit and grow even bigger and people start to notice.  They’re like real brothers, is what they’ll say. The shared selfies showing off your roided physiques for everyone to see. Knowing your bro will always be there for you, no matter what. Male bonding just can’t possibly get any better than this, After all, what’s more masculine than two bros improving their bodies at any cost at the gym? If you look at the picture you can see crystal clear how much of a bro they are. How juice has brought them even closer together. The same roided body, bulging with muscles all over and of similar size as well? Check. The same haircut and facial hair? Check. The same revealing tanktop purposedly worn just to show off and highlight their superior juiced bodies? Check. They probably even speak and sound the same. In fact, if it wasn’t for their facial features you might even mistake them for twins. When it comes to being a bro, it’s safe to say nothing is better than roids. When the body changes, it’s not long before the mind does too. How long until you get a bro of your own like this? Start roiding and find out. I’m sure you can’t wait.


    Hi! I’m a 26 italian male who s always been a little nerdy and slim / skinny. I’m 5,5 feet tall and I weight 132 pounds, my cock s a decent 7 inches. I’ve also always been the smart one in class and among my friends. But I don’t want to be thin anymore, I want to become big and muscular and a bit dumber, to worry less about life… can u do something about it?

    I sure can I have the perfect t idea for someone like you. And the best thing is that you’ll even get to stay Italian. You said that you no longer wanted to be thin but rather muscular. I think you’ll find that you’ll be eating those words. Literally. You eat a lot now. You actually have to in order to keep packing on the muscle that you’ve always wanted. So for you I’m going to allow you really be that muscular man you always wanted. And since you have generously shared you pic with me, I’ve decided you have to keep that body hair !! Soo to get things started…. Driving down the road in your cute little Miata. Your a small man so when you found the car you thought why not. It cute. Good on miles. And you’re small enough that you won’t look silly driving it. But that’s before you made this wish. On the way home you find that you’re feeling sick (a feeling you’ll notice comes from not devouring large amounts of food). And your legs are aching. And your back too. Almost as if your bones are grinding like they did when you were younger and growing. You make it back to your apartment and find yourself staffing from the car as you seem to be slightly taller. And when you shut the door you actually slam it without realizing it. Stumbling to your apartment. Your bones hurting as your growing. Along the way your shoes falling off as your tiny feet start to explode in size. When you’re in your apartment you skimp down to the floor as you feel pain start to take over. And one by one you’re muscles start to balloon in size. Arms becoming rounded masses of muscle and your pecs a shelf that you can’t see past. You’re stomach twists and turns and sticks out slightly but packed with an intense six pack as your legs start to bulk up. You butt getting bigger and your feet still growing. You can even feel your hands getting bigger. But that’s nothing compared to how warm it’s getting as you get even hairier. And as you grow taller you start to find that the room begins to feel smaller even though you laying on the floor in pain. And it is. As your room slowly morphs into a small studio apartment. With tren needles littering then ear by fable. You’re change stops and you manage to stand up. You’re new height of 6’6”. Size 16 feet. Massive in all areas even your groin. Your a Massive Italian muscle bull now. And you’ll find that your trapped in the endless cycle of growth and fuel. Doing whatever you have to do to get bigger.

    Football Hunk to Himbo

    There’s only three stories left, for now, from the new and semi-famous patron. Some other Patreon posts will be published after them as well, and then it’s time for asks again! If you want your own personalized and private stories, then consider becoming my Patron!

    “What the fuck is it this time?” Travis moaned, before answering his phone and talking to his agent. Ever since his team had made it to the Super Bowl, he was contacted for interviews left and right. Unfortunately, most of them weren’t about football, but of how hunky a player he actually was. They did pay well, though, so Travis had suffered through a few of them by now. This one turned out to be a bit different, though. “What magazine is it this time?” he asked.

    “It’s not for a magazine. This hypnotist, Henry, wants to know if you’re willing to do a one-on-one session with him. In fact, he’ll be paying you to attend!”

    “And this shit’s legit? You’ve checked him out and everything, Terry?”

    “Yeah, he’s the real deal, Travis. So, are you in?”

    “Yeah, I’ll do it.” Terry hung up before stating he would call back with the time and place for Travis’s hypnosis session. The NFL player was intrigued about hypnosis. He had jerked off to a number of stories involving hot babes hypnotized to do all sorts of things. But he had also read that in real life, you couldn’t be hypnotized to do anything you didn’t want to do in the first place. Travis just thought that he would be made to cluck like a chicken, but in fact, Henry had some devious plans for the football player.

    Henry had been training in hypnosis for years now. While the statement about what you can and can’t do under hypnosis is true for most people, Henry was able to tap into a special kind of hypnosis that would allow his victims to do whatever they wanted, with no limits. Henry didn’t want to test how extreme that actually went, but he had more fun humiliating and having fun with his victims than that macabre stuff. As a result, Travis didn’t suspect anything amiss as he entered the office of Dr. Henry Gray, Hypnotherapist.

    He was the only one in the office, which was good. He wasn’t household-level famous yet, but a fair amount of people knew him. Henry popped his head out from behind the door to his office. “You can come on in, Travis!” The beefy NFL player walked into the office and had a seat next to Henry. It was the only other place to sit in the room. “Thank you for coming, Travis. I’ve always wanted to test out my skills on an athlete. Your brains are wired a bit differently than a doctor’s, and both of you have different brains than a suburban housewife, for example. I think it will be interesting to hypnotize you.”

    “Sure, okay. And the money’s transferred to me already, right?”

    “Yes, sir, Mr. Kelce. I got the receipt on my phone just a few minutes ago.”

    “Great. Then hypnotize away!” Travis announced. He watched as Dr. Henry Gray took off his necklace, which had been tucked under his clothes. It was a simple gold chain with a green rock at the bottom of it, almost like kryptonite in a way.

    “Travis, just keep your eyes on the pendant as I swing it back and forth. Give all of your attention to the green rock on the pendant. As you listen to my words and focus on the rock, you will find yourself falling deeper and deeper under my control. With every word that I say, you are falling deeper and deeper under trance. I will now count backwards from 5. When I reach one, you will be under my complete hypnotic control and obey any and all of my commands without question.

    “5, you are going even deeper and deeper under.

    “4, you are giving up all control to me.

    “3, you are just my mindless puppet, Travis.

    “2, you exist only to obey me now.

    “1, you are under my complete hypnotic control. Open your eyes, Travis.” The football player had closed them as he had fallen into trance. His stare was now vacant and his mind was cloudy as he was waiting for the next command from his new master. “Travis, I want you to strip naked.”

    “Yes, Master.” This was an excellent litmus test, as someone like Travis wouldn’t just readily strip for him. However, he did just that, showing off his impressive muscular body and sizable cock as well. Henry could tell why the ladies and gents drooled over him. The hypnotherapist wasn’t going to have fun with him in the office, though. These chairs and the carpet were such bitches to clean. Instead, he wanted to let more men in on the fun.

    “Travis, from now on, in addition to being a NFL player, you will also work as an exotic dancer in a gay strip club. You will not find this odd at all. After you get a job working as a dancer at a club, you will start to act like a slutty gay himbo in your everyday life. A himbo is a male bimbo. You will look online for ways to look and act like a himbo. When I release you from this hypnosis, you will have no conscious memories of your commands. However, you will act on them subconsciously and not be alarmed by what you are doing. Do you understand all of this, Travis?”

    “Yes, Master, I understand. I want to be an exotic dancer at a gay strip club.”

    “Excellent. Now get dressed.” Travis did just that, and after he sat back down, Henry snapped his fingers, bringing Travis out of his hypnotic state. The tight end blinked a few times as he adjusted back to reality.

    “Did I just go under?” he asked.

    “Yes, yes you did,” Henry replied. “You definitely enjoyed it.”

    “Yeah, it did feel pretty nice. Well, thanks, doc! I’ll definitely tell my friends about you, help you in your research.”

    “Oh, thank you, Mr. Kelce, you’re too kind.” As Travis left, he did have plans to call up some of his fellow football players and have them set up a meeting with Dr. Gray. However, Travis found himself thinking of working as an exotic dancer at the local gay strip club. Once he was safely back in his home, he searched the web and found the closest gay strip club. Apparently, they were always hiring new dancers, and interviews were available on the spot during slow times. Travis drove over to the strip club and made no pretense of hiding his appearance as he walked inside.

    The manager at the front desk, Paul, knew exactly who Travis was. “Oh my god, you’re Travis Kelce! Uh, Mr. Kelce, you do know that this is a gay strip club, right, gay as in men?”

    “Of course I fucking know that. I’m actually looking to get a job here as an exotic dancer.” Paul’s jaw dropped to the floor.

    “Come again?”

    “Your website said that I could come in for an interview at a slow period. And considering that there’s no one up on stage right now, I’d say it’s a slow period.”

    “You’re hired!” Paul announced, and he and the tight end filled out all of the paperwork and other stuff that Travis would need to work there. As he went home, Paul sent out a blast on his social media pages stating that the Travis Kelce would be dancing tonight and quite a few more times in the future! The small-town local gay strip club didn’t get too much traffic on its social media, but there were a few more likes and retweets than usual.

    Back at Travis’s place, the second part of his hypnosis activated. He had heard the term “himbo” thrown around occasionally, using when someone was talking about Gronk. He wanted to learn what it actually was, and so he searched online and figured out exactly what a himbo was. The more and more he read about them, the more and more Travis knew that he wanted to be one. He called up his personal trainer and asked him if he could switch up his workouts a little bit so that his muscles could get a bit softer and more rounder.

    Once he got that settled, he bought the best lip fillers money could buy and these ass growth supplements that Alam Wernick was shilling. Alam seemed to be the himbo everyone was talking about, and Travis wanted to emulate him. This meant dyeing his hair platinum blonde before arriving back at the strip club that evening. He was set to go on stage during one of the busiest times of the night. Paul handed him a football uniform to wear, one that could easily be stripped off. “Do you have one in, like, a smaller size, teeheehee?” Travis asked.

    He learned that was a how a stereotypical himbo talked, as they were just gay bimbos after all. Paul found a uniform a couple sizes smaller, and Travis surprisingly fit into it, although it was quite tight, exactly what he wanted. He then went onstage for the first time, dancing and gyrating in front of a good crowd of men. More than one realized it was the NFL tight end Travis Kelce, and they recorded his entire striptease. Travis made sure to show off his impressive muscles and even more impressive cock as he shook his ass and strutted across the stage.

    Parts of his uniform came off one by one, until he was just dancing in his jockstrap onstage. The head of his cock was peeping out of the pouch, but it came as only a shock to Paul when Travis ripped the jockstrap off and his erect cock flopped out a little bit. “You guys like, teeheehee?” The stage became practically covered in bills as Travis continued to dance for a little while longer. Eventually, Paul motioned for him to come offstage and let the next dancer have a turn. “Did I, like, do a good job, boss, teeheehee?”

    “Fuck yeah you did, Travis! You’re the best stripper I’ve ever hired!” Travis got a good amount of money from his strip show, even after the club took its sizable cut. He went back to his place not long after he stepped offstage, and before he fell asleep, he bought some crop tops and booty shorts a couple sizes too small for his frame. When he woke up the next morning, his phone was filled with all kinds of alerts, from text messages to emails to tweets. All of them talked about the same thing: Pro NFL Player Travis Kelce Dancing Nude at Gay Strip Club.

    Quite a few sources included the very NSFW videos those men had recorded, and poor Terry had been trying to contact him since the videos went viral. Since his name popped up the most, Travis thought to contact him first. “Like, what’s up, Terry? Why’d you, like, try to, like, contact me so much last night, teeheehee?”

    “Are you on some kind of fuckin’ drug I don’t know about, Travis!? What the fuck is this shit!?”

    “Oh, like, I’m just being me, Terry! Teeheehee, that rhymed! I’m, like, a gay himbo now! I, like, wanna dance at the club for, like, guys, teeheehee!”

    “Travis, bro, you’re not making any fuckin’ sense! I’m coming over to make sure you’re not fuckin’ on anything!” As Terry soon learned, Travis was not on anything. Whatever had happened to him, he seemed to be some kind of gay cock-addicted man whore. “Himbo” wasn’t really in Terry’s vocabulary, but it soon was as a number of gay sites kept calling Travis that. Terry was smart enough to put two-and-two together and called up Dr. Henry Gray, wondering if he had anything to do with this.

    “Terry, hypnosis can’t make an individual do what an individual does not want to do already. And besides, do you really think that I would have hypnotized Travis into becoming a himbo?” Even though that was exactly the case, Terry didn’t pursue that path further, as Dr. Gray seemed to be a very respectable hypnotherapist in his own right. He had to focus on how to fix Travis, though. He couldn’t seem to get through to the NFL player, and even his girlfriend was no help.

    Various other doctors and even other hypnotherapists and hypnotists tried to get through to Travis as well. But Henry’s hypnosis was too just too powerful and deeply ingrained in Travis’s mind. Only he could reverse it, and he wasn’t planning on doing that any time soon! He loved watching as Travis looked more and more like a himbo. He shaved all of his body hair, except his pits, and his personal trainer did work some magic and made his muscles big yet soft and rounded as well. His ass was a “dumptruck,” to use the recent gay colloquism, and he was now shooting scenes with Alam and Reno Gold, and was being scouted by other gay porn studios as well.

    Travis still stripped whenever he could, not for the money, but just because he loved doing it and showing off his body, just like a slutty himbo would. As his popularity skyrocketed in the gay community, all of the clubs wanted a piece of the football player-cum-stripper. He occasionally returned to the strip club that made him famous in the first place, but most of the time, he was dancing halfway across the country or across the world, with his ass ready to be plowed most nights as well. There were a number of articles, shows, and even a feature movie about Travis’s sudden shift from being an excellent NFL player to being one of the top himbos in the world. Travis actually walked the red carpet at that movie premiere, wearing a fishnet crop top that didn’t even cover his pecs completely, and some jean booty shorts that more accurately looked like a thong on his supple ass. He was questioned about what he thought of the movie. His response: “OMG, like it was so, like, amazing, teeheehee!”  

    Football Swap

    And the first of three stories written for the semi-famous Patron this month! Asks should resume on Monday. If you want your own personalized and private stories, then consider becoming my Patron!

    The sound it made was sickening. The TV censors didn’t even bother to block out Logan Greeley’s swearing, because the hit was that bad. He was able to get up and walk off the field, but the head coach for the Browns had a problem. Greeley was the best quarterback, and all of the back-ups were either sick or injured themselves. The head ref walked over to Coach Hickney. “Hick, do you have any kind of back-up?”

    “Yeah, I have a plan,” the coach responded, “but I need some time to put it into action.” The Dolphins’ head coach agreed to let Hickney do what he was going to do, and while the fans were upset over the delay of the game, they couldn’t wait to see who was going to be the quarterback for the Browns. Instead of rushing into the locker room to help his injured player, Hickney went over to where the cheerleaders were sitting.

    “I need one of you to come with me,” he ordered.

    “I’ll go!” said a perky blonde cheerleader. It was clear she had implants in, and not just in her breasts, but Hickney just needed someone willing, and she was the girl. As they walked into the locker room, he asked her for her name.

    “My name’s Natasha! It’s my first year cheerleading for the Browns, and it’s like so much fun, teeheehee!”

    “Well, Natasha, I don’t think you’ll be cheerleading for much longer.”

    “Like, what do you mean?”

    “Wait here,” Hickney said, sitting her down next to Logan once the two of them had made it to the locker room. He was all bandaged up and in a lot of pain, and still in no position to play any time soon. Hickney went into his office and unlocked his fridge. Everyone from the players to the staff joked about Hickney not wanting anyone to steal his food, but his sandwiches weren’t stored in there. No, this fridge was filled with a few different Gatorades with some weird but transformative effects. He rifled around until he found the one that he was looking for, and brought it out to Natasha and Logan. “Each of you, take a sip of this,” Hickney ordered.

    “But, Coach, I’m not thirsty, and how the fuck is this going to solve my problem?”

    “Just fuckin’ do what I say, Greeley!” Hickney barked at his quarterback, and Natasha took a sip as well.

    “Now fuck,” Hickney stated, a bit bluntly.

    “What the fuck, Coach!? Are you for real right now!?”

    “Yes, Logan, that Gatorade you just drank was a special kind of body swap solution. It only works when there is one male and one female body involved, as it requires you to ejaculate in her vagina.”

    “Fuck, Coach, I don’t wanna be a fuckin’ girl! No offense, Natasha.”

    “None taken, teeheehee!”

    “Well, Logan, you can go to the hospital now, but they might not be able to fix you up correctly and you’ll never play again. Or, you can let Natasha body swap with you, and then her body will be in pain and not yours. We can always get another cheerleader, but we can’t be certain we’ll find another man with an arm like you.”

    “Fine, fine, I’ll do it,” Logan scoffed, surprised at himself that he was this resistant to having sex with the incredibly hot Natasha. No one else was in the locker room but them two now, as Coach Hickney left, and Natasha helped Logan to strip. She began engaging in some foreplay with him, feeling up his muscles and licking his sweaty body. As much as loved that, he wanted the pain to stop, and that would mean blowing his load in Natasha’s pussy as fast he could. “Natasha, honey, just ride me.”

    “Like, okay, Logan, whatever you say, teeheehee!” Natasha replied. Logan’s cock was already hard from seeing her naked and talking like a valley girl, so he just laid back on the locker room bench as Natasha slid her pussy right over his cock. She then began bouncing up and down, his breasts jiggling all around. Logan would have felt them up if his arm wasn’t in searing pain, but seeing that in front of him only helped to keep him rock hard. Natasha was enjoying herself, sliding up and down on Logan’s big fat juicy cock. It was only a couple minutes later that Logan was about ready to blow his load, but Natasha didn’t mind the quickie.

    “Ooh, fuck, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum!” Logan screamed, and he blew his load inside of Natasha. As he did so, he could feel her perspective changing, and soon enough, he was looking down at “his” body while it was still being pumped full of cum. His arm soon felt the same way again, like it had shattered into a million pieces. He soon hopped off of Natasha’s cock, or was it his cock still? This was all very confusing. Coach Hickney entered a few seconds later after no longer hearing the sounds of sex in his locker room.

    “Well, it fuckin’ worked, Coach,” Logan said, using his good arm to gesticulate to his breasts and pussy.

    “Perfect, perfect! Logan, get dressed in Natasha’s clothes and we’ll send you to the hospital to get checked up. Natasha, honey, wait here.” As Logan was escorted away, Hickney grabbed another Gatorade from the fridge. This one had clearly been used before, and Natasha took a sip without even asking what it was. Hickney was nice enough to tell her what it was. “This has given you knowledge of the game for about twenty-four hours or so. You’ll know all of the rules and what our play calls mean. So let’s get out there and win this thing!”

    Everyone was a bit shocked when Logan Greeley returned to the field after the delay, looking like he hadn’t been injured at all. The head ref couldn’t see anything wrong, though, so the game started back up, and it went off without a hitch. All of the players noticed that Logan was now a bit of an airhead, but he was still a damn good player. Natasha was also enjoying herself as she led her team to touchdown after touchdown. She had never realized just how hot these football players were!

    The tight pants meant their bulges were quite obvious, especially up close, and more than one guy on each team was packing some serious heat. Later in the game, as the players got more and more sweaty, the sweat leaked into their pants and made their hairy asses and jockstraps visible. It was a bit hard for Natasha not to pop a boner while playing! She was able to get through the whole game, though, without anyone noticing, and she won the whole thing for her team, throwing a TD pass with only seconds left on the clock instead of going for the tying field goal.

    And if she thought being on the field was hot, being in the locker room was even better! After the cameras and interviewers left, the guys were not afraid to walk around buck naked. Quite a few didn’t even bother with modesty towels, and just let their cocks flop around as they walked into the showers. The only bathroom in the locker room was filled with guys needing to piss or shit after the game was done, so there was no private place for Natasha to jerk off. Natasha knew that she reeked, and while she was turned on by her musk, she knew the rest of the guys weren’t, so she would have to take a shower before jerking off.

    It was an open shower, and even though Natasha tried to think of things like the Queen of England having sex or dying puppies, it was no use. She popped a boner in the shower from being around the wet and naked bodies of her teammates, and it wasn’t long before one of her teammates noticed it. However, his reaction to it was not at all what she was expecting. “Who you thinking of, Greeley? Your girlfriend back home, or that hot cheerleader I heard you plowed in the locker room during the delay of the game?”

    “Oh, um, that hot cheerleader, teeheehee!” The high-pitched laugh sounded a bit weird coming out of “Logan’s” mouth, but her teammate just chuckled and went back to cleaning himself. Thankfully, she was able to get her boner done before having to change into her “civilian” clothes, and once she was alone in her hotel bedroom, she finally jerked herself off, blowing her load to the images and mental video she had recorded of her hot teammates. It did feel weird making herself cum by playing with a cock, but it felt just as good as if she was playing with her own pussy.

    The next day, after practice was over, Natasha and Logan met up in the locker room with Coach Hickney. Despite what sounded like a severe break of the bones, “Natasha” was able to be fixed up easily, and while “she” would have to let it rest for a couple days, “she” could cheer at the next game. With Logan’s miraculous recovery, Hickney got out the Gatorade that would switch them back, a smaller bottle that didn’t require the two of them to have sex to switch back. However, Natasha didn’t accept the drink. “I don’t wanna switch back,” she stated.

    “Wait, what!?” Logan cried out. “That wasn’t an option, Natasha! We need to fuckin’ switch back, ya hear me? I pissed all over the bathroom this morning because I’m so fuckin’ used to peeing standing up!”

    “Well, like, that sounds like a ‘you’ problem, Logan, teeheehee!”

    “Coach, tell her she needs to switch back!” Logan whined.

    “While I do agree with you, Greeley, the swap back needs to be wanted by both parties for it to work. I don’t think you both want to be in one body, because that could lead to some serious side effects for both of you.”

    “I guess it’s settled then, teeheehee!” Natasha announced. “Like, I’ll see you at practice tomorrow, Coach!” she added, as she skipped out of the locker room. Logan was still seething at the bimbo cheerleader turned star QB as she left, but there was nothing he could do about it. All he could do now was rest up and learn a cheer routine that he would do on the sidelines where men could objectify for wearing a mini-skirt and a tight bra that left nothing to the imagination. As for Natasha, she wondered when the best time to come out as “gay” would be.  


    So this straight jock played with my emotions and led me on could you help me get some revenge and make us swap bodies so I could get back at him

    You had had it with Brandon, you should've known better. The dumb jock, well known for pulling pranks on everyone, would pull one on you. He spent the day teasing you and getting you hard only to snog Cindy, a dumb chick. You wanted to get back at him and found what you needed. An app that supposedly lets you switch bodies with whoever you wanted. You quickly found Brandon on the app and then planned something embarrassing to make him do. You head was flowing with idea's until you hit it. Make him make out with another guy to prove him wrong. This, would work and once achieved, Brandon might stop being a jerk. You opened up the app and without a thought tapped switch on Brandon.

    Your vision vanishes, and you feel weightless. Suddenly, your shot into a body and you feel off balance. You quickly get your bearings and stabilise yourself.  You look over yourself and see that you aren't in your body, you were Brandon now. You look around the room. The room was messy, filled with cum stained jock straps and used condoms, the wall, was littered with pictures of dumb chicks, and there was a heavy scent of lynx Africa.

    You were over the moon, it had worked, and now you could take your revenge. But first, you couldn't help and admire your new body, I mean he worked on it really hard, and you could tell. You flexed your arms in the mirror and looked over yourself. Damn you were sexy now, maybe you should try some clothes on and get his signature look. You pick up a pair of black shorts, a yellow shirt and the stylish cap he wore every day. You put them all on and quickly swivel the cap, 180 degrees backwards. You went back to the mirror and flexed again. You couldn't help how sexy you were, and soon enough, you were sporting a large boner too now. Maybe a quick jerk, I mean once you were done with the... wait what the fuck were you doing again. You thought for a minute and couldn't think, obviously Brandon's slow brain was taking effect. Oh well, jerk it now, and you're bound to remember afterwards. You fell back onto his bed and got out your phone, you searched for some gay porn, and found a video of some twink getting dominated by a hunk. You started tugging at your giant meatstick, and went on for 5 minutes, glued to the screen. However, you couldn't get any harder, and you didn't feel fully into it. You took another look at the screen and saw PornHub Gay, why the fuck were you on that? You quickly changed to another video of some dumb blonde chick getting rammed by a stud. Much better. This was normal, I mean you were a straight jock after all. Wait... no you were... why the fuck are you thinking so much? Just bust your nut, you stupid jock. A dumb smile settled on your face after you exploded.  

    I don't think you'll be pulling that prank you were thinking of, you might be pulling, more pranks on your old self though.


    Hey bro it’s my birthday today and I’m gonna be 23. I was never a smart guy but I always playing football and wrestling. I’m too dumb for college but I wonder what it would be like if I went. Could you help a bro out?

    You’re going to be loving it bro. As a loud fart erupts from you signally the start of change. You say that you’ve always been playing football or wrestling but that was small time stuff being I. College is going to mean you HAVE to be bigger. And with that being said you’re going to feel you’re expanding rapidly. Clothes no longer fitting you as you even get taller. You’re feet growing so large you have r to special order them as you’re abs start to become more pronounced as your pecs soon jut out from your body like a shelf. Your hair gets wicked blonder and your face reshapes itself to a boyish charm. Tall. Muscular and blonde. With big feet to top everything off. You’ll find that your smooth now with now body hair. But when you snap a pic you’ll also find that there is a cost to this change. Getting what you want doesn’t always mean actually getting what you want. Now I know…. This body is very …. Unique considering your situation as this body once belonged to someone who was a hyper republican. Super straight. Obviously gay hating. But that was ONCE the way this body was. and I think you’re the perfect person to be able to show just how much this blonde hunk has changed. Maybe even put on a show for your coach. After all. Your definitely not smart enough to be in college. And your coach demands payment for being on the team. Do you snap a pic of your new big dumb blonde form. And send it your coach asking if daddy is ready to show the world just how gay this man really is.




    “Confronting Coach Johnson” (2126 words)

    An art teacher tries to take down the head football coach for using illegal nanite technology on his players. But the tables are turned with a pair of compression shorts

    Seeing Coach Mickey Johnson all by himself, I stormed into the training room to finally confront him. Though I’d long resented him for all the funding his football program commanded—while the school kept making cuts to the arts—this time he’d done something that crossed the line.

    “Mickey, I need to tell you something,” I said to the massive bear of a man.

    He looked back at me with a raised blond eyebrow. “Oh?”

    “I saw that doctor in the weight room giving injections to your boys. And I know what you’re giving them. I can’t believe you’d let someone do HuBNaR to the football team,” I said—referring to Human Body Nanite Reconfiguration.

    “And it’s not only cheating against all the other teams, but elective nanite therapy is dangerous and illegal! Haven’t you seen all the news stories about side effects? Vertigo, amnesia, personality changes, seizures? Is all that worth a few more wins for your record?”

    Mickey nonchalantly resumed foam-rolling his meaty thigh.

    “Sanchez, I don’t think an art teacher has the right to tell me how to run my team,” he scoffed.

    I waved my phone at him.

    “I have video! You can stop all this right now, and give up your hack doctor. Maybe Administration and the police will leave you alone. After all, you’re a king in this town. I’m sure they’ll take it easy on you. But if you don’t come clean, I’ll make sure everyone sees—“

    Mickey stood up and bull rushed me with his large hands, pushing me several feet and into one of the ice baths. I gasped at the cold of the water.

    “What the fuck was that!” I shouted.

    I checked my phone. Luckily I’d managed to keep it dry. But all my clothes had gotten completely soaked. Then Mickey—wearing a look of regret—offered me a hand out of the tub. I took it hesitantly, keeping my phone as far from him as possible with my other hand.

    “I’m sorry for that,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. You’re totally right, Sanchez. I need to stop all this right now. And I’m giving up Doctor Sato. I’m going to Laura’s office tomorrow and I’m telling her everything.”

    “That’s good to hear,” I said, shivering in my wet polo.

    Mickey offered to grab me some fresh clothes so I didn’t freeze. When he came back, he handed me a neatly folded pile: one heather grey Greenville HS Football t-shirt on top, and a navy pair of mesh shorts on the bottom. When I picked up the shirt, I saw it had been hiding a white pair of Nike Pro compression shorts, like the filling to a sandwich. For a second, I considered staying in my own boxers, but I had to admit that they were just too wet to keep on. So I stripped completely and slid the silky elastic shorts on over my legs. It was then that I noticed some thick, cold, gel-like substance coating my crotch.

    “What the—“ I cried out.

    Before I could pull the shorts down to check them out, I heard a whirring sound. It came from some boxy device Mickey was holding between his two hands, with a rod that he aimed right at my crotch. Suddenly the gel heated up and started moving on its own. It entered the opening of my penis. I screamed.

    Eventually, all the gel disappeared completely into my dick, which instantly became hard. My balls started to feel heavy. Then they got painful. That pain soon radiated out through the rest of my body. I closed my eyes and collapsed to the floor. Pressure and electricity seemed to course through every part of me, from deep inside my guts to the goosebumps on my skin, and all throughout my muscles, joints, fingers, and toes. Every muscle shuddered and tensed, in waves of agony and ecstasy. Then the pain finally subsided.

    I looked down at my body. I was still naked save for the compression shorts, but I didn’t recognize the immaculate bronzed skin before me, nor the tight, powerful muscles bulging under it. I looked around the room until I spotted a mirror, seeing an unfamiliar reflection staring back at me.

    Whereas I knew myself to be a 30 year old pale, skinny, black-haired art teacher, this reflection looked like a 17 year blond athlete with a finely-honed body, brimming with muscles and power. He had a strong jaw and square face, filled in with boyish features. I ran my hands over my new face, and down my solid pecs and chiseled abs.

    “What’d you just do to me, Mickey?”

    “He used one of my presets for a complete nanite overhaul,” said someone at the door. It was Doctor Sato.

    “Mickey here told me he’s always wanted a son but never had the time to find a potential wife to bear him one. He’s always too caught up in coaching football. So when I calibrated the subtle physical changes to make his players stronger, faster, and more resilient, I also programmed the settings to create a completely new man out of any male subject. To look and play like a younger Mickey Johnson—about to reach his physical prime. The plan was to use it on someone in dire straits, and give him a better life as a head coach’s star son. But using it to save us from your meddling was fine too. Good thinking, Mickey.”

    “What makes you think I can’t still go to the authorities while looking like this?” you say defiantly.

    Doctor Sato looked down at his tablet, scrolling and tapping through something.

    “Well, it looks like your normal brain function never got interrupted, and your memories and sense of self are obviously still strong. If you were one of my Orange County clients with way more money and insecurities than sense, I’d call you lucky to have come out of a complete nanite overhaul like this. This has given me some really useful data, despite Mickey’s unconventional delivery method and entry point for your nanite dose… Unfortunately, we’re not quite done with you, and you’ll soon be witness to your own erasure. Now son, walk to Mickey.”

    Suddenly my legs started moving towards Mickey as I realized I wanted nothing more than to stand close to him.

    “Look him in the eyes and call him Dad. Realize that he’s your father and has always been your father.”

    “Dad,” the word escaped out of my mouth. But wait, my dad was a different man! I thought I could imagine what he looked like for a second but then the image erased itself. This wasn’t right. I tried again but realized it was so much easier to just acknowledge the man in front of me as my father. Suddenly all my memories of my dad had Mickey standing in them. Seeing Mickey inspired a burst of storgic love.

    “Have him call me Sir,” Mickey said gruffly.

    Sato pressed some more buttons.

    “Sir,” I said, feeling gratitude and respect for my old man. No wait, he was only five years older than me, he couldn’t possibly be a “Sir” to me…

    “Also, Coach Johnson is your Coach. Even though you might call him Dad in other situations, on the field and in the gym, you call him either Sir or Coach like your teammates.”

    This was ridiculous. He’s Mick—Coach. We were fellow teachers and colleagues. I was an art teacher, not a football player. I was a football player, not a teacher. Of course Dad was my Coach. Don’t be ridiculous.

    “Coach!” I said, standing up straight like I thought a football player should when addressing his Coach. Though I didn’t have any particular memories of playing for Dad, I knew it was a big part of my identity.

    Dad then explained that Doctor Sato was here to give me my physical, so I could join the team. Those were the rules, even though I’d played for my boarding school before transferring here.

    Sato gave me a thorough examination with numerous tests, taking lots of notes on his tablet.

    “Don’t forget, Mickey, I’ll be collecting my payment today,” Sato said before leaving.

    The bell rang. It was 2:30. Dad took me to his office and handed me the socks and cleats I’d forgotten at home. Then we went to the locker room, where he gave me my shoulder pads.

    We spent the afternoon on the field practicing my tackling technique and shotgun snap. We also did some visualization drills where he described imaginary defensive formations for me to make line calls against. It was all tedious fundamentals that I already lived and breathed as a lifelong center, but Dad insisted an occasional refresher was “good for the foundation” to my skills. Skills… like drawing and painting? I distantly recalled hours spent in the studio but they felt like a half-remembered movie. Something I had watched someone else doing. Probably some random reel on Insta.

    After several hours we finally walked off the field. Still in just my compression shorts, socks, and cleats, I held a practice ball with my right hand and my pads with my left.

    “So I’m gonna talk to Laura—I mean Principal Washington—tomorrow morning, and get you officially registered for your classes. And you’ll be able to join your new teammates for our offseason lifting program.”

    I flashed a big grin at the thought of finally playing for my father after all thise years. Then I suddenly winced at the soreness in my balls.

    “Son,” Dad said to me. “You really need to start wearing a cup if you’re gonna keep hitting your groin during snaps like that. I can’t believe you’ve played center all these years without protection.”

    “You’re right, sir,” I responded, taking in the truth of his words.

    “But you’ve also been making me really proud, lately, which is why I’m giving you your own car.” Dad showed me a set of car keys.

    I hugged and thanked him, even though there was something oddly familiar about the sight of those keys.

    In the field house parking lot, right by where Dad pointed out my new car, we saw Sato. I tucked the ball under my left arm so I could wave with my right. Sato didn’t seem to notice as he fiddled with his tablet. Suddenly, Dad ran up to Sato and embraced him, planting a kiss on his cheek.

    “Ken, you’re here!” said the muscular brute, fawning over Sato like a love-struck bimbo.

    Dad completely engulfed the smaller Sato in his caress, eventually lifting him up and pinning him against the hood of my new car. I laughed at the scene, happy that Dad had finally found someone after so many years alone.

    My mind started to fill with static as I stood there, not knowing what to do next. When I started to wonder why I had the strangest feeling I’d driven my new car before, Sato called my name.

    “Junior, your father has something for you.”

    From behind the car, my dad produced a shiny new Greenville football helmet. Grinning proudly, he fitted it over my head. It was then that I noticed the display screen under the black visor, and an embedded pair of headphones. The screen turned on, showing an idle frame. Then I heard Sato’s voice, muffled by the helmet’s headphones.

    “Junior, your father told me you’ve been having difficulties with your memory, and that you’ve been having daydreams of another life as some teacher. I promise these videos will help. Pay close attention to them.”

    So I did. Before my eyes flashed a jumble of scenes from across my life, eliciting in turns unfamiliarity and the feeling of deja vu. An instinct recognized the uncanny imagery in these videos and slideshows as AI-generated deepfakes, but I ignored it as irrelevant. Some of the videos were of me, and others were from my eyes. I remembered life at boarding school, life as the son of a coach, birthdays and vacations with dad, the hours I spent practicing and playing football, and pumping iron. All those fantasies of some boring adult life as a failed artist became more and more distant in my mind.

    And then came a video of the day three years ago when Dad brought home Ken Sato. They’d been dating for a year and decided we should try to be a family together. I’d been calling him Ken for as long as I knew him, but I was ready to call him Pops if they ever decided to marry. He and Dad were just so perfect together. It was a fact that I knew as surely as I knew my own name: Mickey Johnson Junior.


    BRO! Look what I found clubbin last night! This bro’s wearing one of Coach’s muscle growth necklaces! Someone from the team musta dropped it… Lookit, tho… Since he didn’t get it straight from Coach, nobody told him to only wear it 8 hours a day… So it’s been drainin his brains 24/7!

    I looked up his facebook. It says he’s a math major in the chess club, but there’s no way that’s true now. There’s like, nothing left inside his head. All his brains burned into gainz… His whole wall is just selfies of him flexing, huhuhuh. I had to hold his hand the whole way here so he won’t get lost. But he’s hella swole, ain’t he? When we bring him to Coach, I’ma ask if he can be my lil bro. I see he’s already got my style.


    Repost, after small tweaks to make the dumb bro’s words sound more natural, dumb, and bro-y. First published Nov 2015



    Andy being the dork leaving his laptop unlocked, I went thru his folders and found CONVERT2JOCK.mp3 on his Private folder. I analysed and saved a copy of it. Seemed like hypno malware to me since it contained dumbing down elements and muscle endeavourements. Went Tumblr scrolling and found people making stories about it. Well surprise! CONVERT2JOCK.mp3 is real and yes, I have a copy.


    Can I have a copy?


    I will only give copies once this post reaches 250 notes and 30 skype invites ;) (And you have to be deserving)

    - Coach J


    Can i have a copy?


    When I first started writing about CONVERT2JOCK.mp3, no one else on Tumblr seemed to know anything about it. So it felt validating to stumble upon other people’s research into the file and its spread. Many were posting about CONVERT2JOCK.mp3 with zero involvement from myself, which made me realize this thing was much bigger than me.

    But it was shocking to see this “Coach J” / “muscledtist-trainer” announcing that he’d gotten a hold of the file and was going to distribute it himself, when the Voice had a very specific protocol on how he’d recruit men into his stable. Nothing happened with his possessions without his say-so: his total control over his blanked-out jock bros ensured it. You might notice that “Coach J” isn’t around on Tumblr anymore. But now that I am now one of The Voice’s boys, I can tell you guys that The Voice had very specific plans for him, full of blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids.