@playernumber10
Player Number 10

Dumbass meathead jock in training. Proud part of the Dumb Revolution.

Posts
523
Last update
2021-07-20 02:16:52
    lixpex

    He hasn’t worn a shirt in two months. Not since he rushed Sigma Nu…

    (via ksufraternitybrother.tumblr.com)

    jockedguy

    Shirtless just felt … right. Freeing. It got so bad that when he put a … shirt … on, it felt weird. Summer sun beating down on something before his eager skin made him angry deep in the caves of himself, made him constantly shift physically, pluck at it, hands insistently and unconsciously rove under the fabric. Walking home from a job (the whole shift largely unremembered), immediately tearing off the offending garment, breathing freer than he had in hours …

    But how had it happened? Something about someone at that party slipping his drunk-ass self what he thought was a business card. Come to think of it, the corner had been so sharp it had given him a papercut in the webbing between his thumb and index finger. The card, though, had seemed to somehow absorb the stain; when he looked at it - bone-white with ink-dark Greek letters Sigma Nu embossed - he felt just a little dizzy, like he’d taken a small hit of medicinal-grade weed.

    What was next? He asked himself; and felt the shroud of contentedness slip over him, a netting of “Who cares?” sliding seductively around him. What mattered but Nu, but gym, but Prez. A dumb grin infiltrated his stubborn face as he thought about it, about Prez, and it infected the surrounding muscles, relaxing them, spreading…. he would dream about Prez tonight, just like he did last night. So much easier to do what Prez sez. To be a Nu man.

    Fuck yeah.

    You gotta be kiddin me… brand loyalty, what the fuck even is that? Nike, Jordan, Reebok, adidas… why would you wanna be a walking advertisement for a brand of clothing dude? I mean, seriously, though. Not to mention how baggy the damn things are half the time, and … that weird kinda silky material, what is that made of anyway? It’s like a mesh or somethin. Actually that looks kinda comfortable, but man, Jordan brand? I dont play basketball dude. So why would I wear basketball shorts? Not to mention the Nike sneakers, that swoosh logo man, you wear it and it defines you. Well, I guess thats not true specifically, I do see a lot of dudes who arent jocks wearin Nike. That logo is hard to look away from, huh? sure is good advertising…. and the red on the white, damn you could see that from a block away. You gotta respect good advertising… if it works it really gets in your head, you know bro?

    Man, I forgot what I was sayin. Sorry bro. What was your name again? Max … Gearhead? Huhuhuh… thats a killer name bro. You got more swag u wanna show me? Yeah… I got some time. I guess it is kinda cool in a way. I should probably look into a new pair of kicks, you know, because these will get beat up eventually right? thanks for showin me how wrong I was bro. your gear is fuckin killer. … sure, ill play ball with ya bro. ya might have to lend me a pair of ball shorts though…

    It came to him out of nowhere one day. Sure, he’d always liked hockey and could even sit through a basketball game, but he always thought football was kinda … well, dumb. The gear, the endless smashing into one another, the snail’s pace of the game… it all seemed pretty dumb to him. In mixed company, he’d scoff at the friends who would talk about football, and subconsciously even sort of look down on anyone who professed to like the game or had a favorite team.

    Then there was the day he got stuck in a bar during a freak rainstorm. It was a sports bar called Game On!, according to the emblazoned title on the window. He ducked in just as the first bolt of lightning sizzled through the sky above. Inside, it was rather loud - the bar was almost full, and gigantic televisions lined the walls. He felt almost instantly dizzy with the pounding sound of the game currently on, but found his way to an empty seat and waited for the bartender to come over.

    The game almost immediately - how couldn’t it? - took up the whole of his range of vision. You know how when you sit at a bar and there’s nothing much to look at, you look at the TV? That’s what happened here. He was watching-notwatching the game. It crept inside his head. The gear was …

    “Can I get you a drink?”

    Zack shook his head clear. “Uh, sorry. Yeah. Jack and Coke, please.”

    The bartender smiled. “Caught up in the game, huh?”

    “Nah, not really… not a big football fan.”

    “Really? You seemed pretty into it. My bad. Lemme grab your drink.”

    The bartender went off again, and Zack found his gaze drawn to the screen again. The sound of the patrons around him seemed to recede, as if slipping away down a dark tunnel. The roar of the crowd on the televisions amplified, surged. Zack felt like he was in the stands, felt the hot sun blazing on his forearms…

    Thunder rippled through the air, and the snapping sound of fingers - wait, huh? “Dude, you’re really into this game, huh?” The bartender was back.

    “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” And wasn’t he? Man, was he ever suddenly INTO this! How could he have not liked football before? He fumbled out some bills for the drink and the bartender laughed a little.

    “Don’t worry, bro, you’re in good company. Everyone here - ” He was interrupted by a roar as a player broke away and sprinted madly, faster, dodging, cradling the football in his arm, dashing -

    “Go, go, go…..!” Zack’s heart pounded feverishly in his chest as he watched the sequence, and BOOM - “TOUCHDOWN!” He wasn’t even aware that he had been shouting in unison with the whole bar. He’d never felt like this! He hadn’t even noticed the bartender slide away, so focused he was on the game.

    “… and the coaches, bro, they must be fuckin’ geniuses or somethin, it’s like chess, they gotta strategize, it’s fuckin awesome!”

    Brady rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Zack, we get it, you’re a football convert now. But it’s all you’ve talked about for like, the last week, now, so…”

    Zack blinked. “It is?”

    “Yeah, man. And not for nothin, I know it’s hot out, but I don’t think you’ve worn a shirt the past week, either, or put down that damn ball.”

    Zack didn’t remember even buying the football, or the various bands he wore on his arms. “Yeah, so? Football fuckin rules bro. You should come catch a game with me sometime. There’s this bar I go to that’s awesome, seriously.”

    “Maybe man. I gotta go for now, though. Uh… catch you around.” Zack was just … different now, somehow. Brady felt ill-at-ease, just wanted to get away from the football fanatic.

    “Okay, bro. See ya.” There was a game on, anyway, and Zack had to hurry to Game On if he wanted that primo seat, right in front of the television. Maybe a bro or two would throw the ball around with him after. Brady didn’t like football, huh, weird.

    “I mean, how can you not like football?” Zack said out loud, unaware of how much duller his voice sounded. “Like, it fuckin rules.”

    And Game On waited for him, the pulsing and glowing televisions continuing to pulse and glow. A dumb, contented grin slid onto his lips … and he headed for the bar.

    jockedguy

    Its all good bro… the gear i loaned u is startin to change u up now, even while ur sleapin… my Abercrombie tshirt on ur skinny body, my arm around ur head… just relax an let it happen bro. Your gonna be Nu just like me. Your big bro. And doin what I tell ya just seems so natural huh? Man, we r gonna have some fun as bros… ull see. Dont need smarts to be my lil bro, just a need for more gear and the gym bro. Youll see. Life is better with me.

    I was confused, the wrestling coach had said he wanted to talk to me. I was so busy though, it was my last few weeks at university and I had a lot to study for. He kept pressuring me until I agreed to meet in his office.

    Upon meeting I proceesed to inquire upon the necessity of this meeting. He told me that all of his wrestlers were graduating this year and he was looking to replace them. Well, being an unathletic person, buried in his studies, I didn’t really see how I could help. He continued to talk at length, that’s when I realized how dry and warm it was in his office. He paused, offered me some water, which I gladly took, and he continued.

    That’s where I got confused. I drank the water, but it had a different texture to it. Apparently it was not exactly water, as coach spoke he began to reveal his nanobot plan to me. He told me that once I was through with the changes, I would be the best freshman wrestler out there.

    I fel hot, like a fever running through my bones. I was a gangly 6 foot 4 inches buy as the fever swept through me, I felt like my bones were compressing. It continued until I stood 5'7" and my face rearranged until it was unrecognizable. The fever soon swept through my very little muscle mass, bulking me up wrestler style. I felt my chest expand, in a painful and pleasurable experience. My stomach was tightening while my arms ballooned biceps and triceps and all that shit. I felt my calves and thighs grow fucking strong and my feet shrunk to match my new height. By the time it finished, I was a walking wet dream, bubble butt and all.

    The bits worked on my personality too. More competitive than before, less interested in school, just enough to pass. They eradicated my memories, gave me new parents, goals and a much higher 18 year old sex drive. I now had a new purpose in life, which was, wrestle as much as possible, get laid as much as possible and be the best.

    Coach might have overdone the keep it simple rule, but bro, look at me. You know you fucking want this, after the meet you can have it too! Coach needs more wrestlers, he told me to tell you dude, he wants to see you in his office.

    maxhockeyjock

    Thats right bro… dumber. Ur gettin dumber by the second. Dont fight it bro. Your brains are just drainin rite outta u, rite down the drain in th middle of ur skull, wet n warm out of ur ears. Your gonna start forgettin some of those big words u know, slow at first. Sayin uhhhhh more often. Forgettin what u just said to someone. Slowly startin to hate books an readin, cuz it takes u to damn long to get around the pages. No pictures, who fuckin cares bro. No time for that shit. Ill let u keep th glasses, for fun… ppl mite think ur smart, but ur gonna prove em otherwise, every time u open ur fuckin mouth bro…

    adamandstevewerehot

    The name is Misha. I have two sisters and three brothers but they’re not particularly involved in this story.

    I’m eighteen. So I’m legal. Don’t worry. All the salacious things I do in this story are on the up and up. Before I show you what I look like now, I figure I should start at the beginning. This is how it started. Look at me.

    I didn’t look half bad. But I had to get bigger. I had to get stronger. I have three brothers I have to catch up to. Three shadows to step out from under. I tried exercising and I joined gyms but nothing was helping. My body wasn’t getting bigger or stronger.

    Then I was approached.

    I was walking home. There he was. A guy I had seen a few times in the gym but he was bigger now than he had been two weeks ago. Taller. At least half a foot. Thicker. He was coated in sweat and playing basketball. He peered over and motioned me over.

    “Come here.” He said with a smile that could moisten any woman up. His biceps flexed as he pointed at the ground in front of him. His pecs popped. Not gonna lie, my cock twitched.

    I walked over. Stood where he pointed.

    “You trying to pump up? I see you at the gym a lot.”

    “Yeah. I want… To look like You.”

    That made his smirk widen. “Me, huh? What if I said you could… Be like me… And bigger?”

    I looked at him. His thick full pecs. His abs. His thick biceps. They were big. I looked down. He saw my eyes trailing. He smirked and lifted his shorts. He showed off those thick thighs. Then he cupped his stuffed package.

    “Like the view, little jock?” I could see the fat tube of his cock as he gripped his crotch and flexed his thighs.

    “I can… Get… Bigger than this?”

    He grinned. “Yes. Bigger… Here…. Here.. Here…” He patted his chest, biceps, thighs, then gave his cock a stroke. “And here…”

    Something about it made my knees weak. Something about the way it pulsed within the confines of his shorts, throbbed between thick thighs. I wanted to see it.

    “I… I want… To be bigger. Make me like you.”

    He patted my shoulder. “Alright. Follow me. I got a gym for you to join.”

    “A gym? I’m already in a gym.”

    He laughed. “That’s not a gym. That’s bull. I go there to recruit people for a real gym. I find the ones with the most potential. And right now. It’s you. Name’s Blaine. Let’s go. The Himbo Project is where you need to be… Now first. What’s your name?”

    -=-=-=-=-

    The building he took me to didn’t look like much. But when I went inside it was not what I expected.

    There were the usual pieces of workout equipment. But none of that caught my eye quite like all the men around. All the built. Sweaty. Muscular. Thickly built. Half naked. Tall. Jocks. The area had a circulating air purifier. But even then the whole building smelled of men. Of testosterone. Of raw pure masculinity.

    One walked over. His eyes falling in me. He had four inches of height on me. His body glistening under the lights.

    “Yo. Blaine. This the newbie?” The guy spoke with an accent. His pecs bounced with each breath.

    “This is him. His name is Misha. Misha, this is Luis. He’s been with us for a month. He looked like you when he got here. He’s going to help you get stronger. Bigger. Luis, remember, no rough stuff.”

    “Oh come on. The last guy liked it… ” Luis sneered and slapped his own pec. “Ok. Fine. Come on. Gonna give you your first case of Jock Brews. Will tell you how the different types of brew work. Then you choose whichever you want. Then… Well the fun begins…”

    -=-=-=-=-

    There are several kinds of Jock Serum. They came in cans that made me think of beer. Jock Serum: Original, Jock Serum X-Treme, Jock Serum XXXL, and Jock Serum XXXL Max.

    “The original is good. Weakest type. Good for beginners.” Made sense. It was the largest can. Looking like a 32 ounce beer can. “The Max is the strongest stuff.” Luis explained. It’s why it comes in smaller bottles. Like those 5 hour energy drink shots.

    “I want the Max.” Luis looked at me as I said that.

    “You got balls, kid.” He said with a smirk. “This stuff is strong. And there’s side effects.”

    “Don’t care. I want it.”

    Luis nodded and motioned to the small case on the table. “Take one and let’s go. Your training starts now.”

    I emptied the small bottle. I felt the effects immediately. I could do do this…

    -=-=-=-=-

    I forgot how it’s been. Time just flew by during training. Strength, durability, stamina. It was grueling. I also downed so many of the tiny bottles; one at a time at first then I got impatient. I chugged four of them.

    That night I underwent the biggest change. The pain surpassed everything else. Then came the pleasure. I called for Luis and he saw what I did… But, rather than rat me out, he took me to “the education annex” in the basement of the gym. He sat me down.

    “You want to get bigger… Right? Look at you. Looking good. Better than before. Now though comes the real training…”

    “Real training?” My chest felt tighter in my shirt. My biceps felt bigger.

    “I’m going to put this VR headset on you… And you’re going to sit back… But first. Drink.” He held out a bottle of XXXL Max. Bigger than the others. I chugged it. He slid the VR set over my head. The earphones slid on comfortably.

    “Hey, Bro. Can you hear me?” The voice echoed in my ears. “Stand up if you can. Good… Look at the colors. They’re nice, right? Sink into them. Like quicksand. Sink into the colors.”

    I felt heavy yet weightless. I was standing. I had gotten up. On command.

    “Time for you to learn what this whole gym is about, Bro. Gonna learn what the Himbo Project and the Serum are for. What you were selected for. You’re not just any guy picked up off the street. You’re a bro. Well, you will be. You will be soon enough. For now, sink into the colors. Swirling, pulsing, writhing light, let it burrow into your subconscious. Let my voice sink into your brain. Your cute tiny and soon to be shrinking brain. You’re smart. But you won’t be for long. 

    Here’s what I want you to do. You took that concentrated XXXLMax. It’ll hit you in a second. When you do, the pain is going to wash over you like a goddamn tidal wave. Fight through it. Bite your lip. Flex. That’s what you need to do. Flex. Feel it? Feel it now? Washing over you? Pulsing pain, throbbing pain, coursing through your body?”

    The pain hit as he said it, as he spoke about it. It was like an electrical charge down my spine. I groaned, stars flashing before my eyes as the pain increased.

    “Flex. Flex you stupid ass. Flex you dumb motherfucker. Flex!”

    I raised my arm. It felt like lead. I flexed my bicep. Immediately, there was pleasure. It coursed through me, starting at the bicep then spreading out. Another pulse of pain and I gasped.

    “Flex again. Come on, bro. You know you felt that. You felt that pleasure. Flex.”

    I flexed again, my bicep thickening and bulging as I did so and the pleasure washing over me.

    “Oh, Oh Fuck.” I groaned and writhed a bit on my feet. 

    “Good boy. Listen to my voice. Take it in. Let it sink into your mind. Your brain is shrinking. Your intelligence is slipping. All that matters is getting big, getting jocked, getting swole, bigger hot, getting sweaty. Be a bro. Flex.”

    I did. The pleasure coursed through me again.

    “You’re gonna be so stupid, bro. You’re gonna smile like an idiot when someone calls you dumb. Flex again. Both arms this time.”

    I shuddered, both arms raised, flexed, and the pleasure increased, doubled, spread.

    “You’re growing. Getting bigger. Your body is growing. Every time you flex, you get bigger. You get dumber. You feel it, don’t you? Yeah. Keep going. The bigger you get, the dumber you get. Flex. Yeah, don’t stop. You want to flex, you want to show off, you want to empty your brain. Thinking is an anchor, it keeps you from getting bigger, getting stronger, getting swole. Stop thinking. Don’t think. All you need to worry about is being a bro.

    Flex.” The voice repeated. I did. 

    My biceps thickened. Ballooned. I felt them. I felt the muscles expand and with each expansion, I felt pleasure. I could feel it coursing through my veins. I was breathing heavily, panting.

    “You are going to be a bro. A big muscle jock. A sweaty, smelly, stupid, strong, hot jock. You’ll live for being a bro. You’ll be a big muscle bitch. Yes, a bitch. That’s what you’re here for. This is what this training is for. To train you. To change you. To make you into what you want to be.

    A whore. A big thick muscle whore. A dick pig. A cock slut. Make that jock hole between those thick cheeks a deep greedy muscle pussy.

    You’ll exist to suck cock. You’ll live to get pumped. And get pumped; full of fat throbbing cock. Black, white, Arab, it doesn’t matter who it’s from. You’ll love it. You need it. You want your slut jock hole filled, used, gaped, abused, flooded, again and again. 

    Flex.”

    I groaned, my body stretched and ballooned, I felt the growth. I felt my shirt getting tighter. Too tight. I felt hands on me.

    “Stay still, bro,” Luis said. I could hear him through the headphones, far but he was standing in front of me. He tore the shirt open. It fell to the ground. I didn’t see it but I felt it.

    The voice in my ears continued. “Get dumb. Forget your thoughts. Clear your thoughts. Think of getting bigger, swole, think of that, nothing else. Nothing else matters. Flex. Moan. Be a good bitch. A good muscle slut. Your thick perfect beefy ass will be desired by men all over. They’ll see it. They’ll want it. And you will be happy to give it up, to raise that juicy ass up, to beg them to fuck it, to pound it, to beat it into submission. You’ll straddle any and all men that present their cocks to you and you’ll ride, you’ll post, until they empty themselves into you, and then you’ll move to the next man, and repeat, again and again. This is what you’ll be.”

    Images flashed across my eyes. Images of men. Jocks. Muscular. Hot. Sweaty. Dumb.

    “Look at them. Bros. Sweaty. Stupid. Swole. Big. Thick juicy cheeks. See them? You’ll look like that soon.

    Watch those cheeks. Watch them jiggle. Watch them work.”

    The two jocks stripped out of their singlets. Muscles flexing. Bulging. Thick biceps and full round pecs. They approached a man. He’s got a muscle gut. Wearing a hat that says Coach.

    “Love Coach. Follow his orders. Coach is King. Coach is God. Coach will send you to the men who’ll use you. You exist to be used. To be a pumped up fuck pig contantly hungry for cock, insatiable. Watch them work. Watch them twerk. Dance. Flex. Now, bro. Flex.”

    My pants felt tight. I flexed again. My shorts ripped down the side.

    “Watch them work. Watch them suck. Watch them swallow that daddy cock. That could be you. That will be you. You’ll be a jock. You’ll be dumb. You’ll be horny… And always prepared to flex.”

    I removed the headset. Luis was standing there. Smirking. Cock bulging his shorts. He was slowly stroking it. He had watched me.

    “Mirror. Go look at your new body… Enjoy it… You’re going to get bigger soon… If you like what you see… Come thank me. On your knees…jock slut.”

    The clatter of dice and a rustling, ripping sound, followed by a rising, muffled din of overlapping conversations. Jeremy had only left the D&D table to go to the bathroom, whiz out all that Mountain Dew, but he frowned as he prepared to turn the knob. It sounded like rap music was slowly being turned up at a party next door, that awful frat Sigma Nu. Earlier, they had had to call campus police on the party.

    “Man, do we have to call the cops ag–” He rounded the corner and stared at the kitchen. What had been a sedate gathering of 8 fellow nerds was now what looked like a total rager. Red Solo cups scattered on the floor, leaking out beer and sugary malt beverages - onto the ripped up pieces of paper and dice from the tragically halted game.

    Well, that, and the fact that his eight friends had all been replaced by shirtless douchebags. “What the hell?”

    There was someone unfamiliar, a ninth person. They stopped and looked at him, stone-serious, and for a moment Jeremy’s heart started hammering and fear dripped through his veins. Then, as if on cue, their expressions broke - exploded - and they all went “GOTCHA BRO!” And their laughter filled the room.

    The ninth, the one he didn’t recognize, made his way across the room and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey bro, it’s time, you made it.”

    “Made what?”

    “You’re a Nu man, now, pledge, you lasted the full week!”

    Jeremy twisted away from his grip. “Who are you, and what did you do with my friends?”

    “These are your friends, JJ, bro.” The ninth’s smile was broad, breezy, and kind of smug. “Don’t you remember? You and your eight pledges had to be nerds for a whole week, and then you’d be Nu men for good, yo.”

    “What?” A sort of static was rising in J’s skull. “That’s insane, I…”

    “You what? C'mon bro, we’re all celebrating up at the house, it’s a real rager. You gotta do a keg stand with us bro.”

    It couldn’t… could it? A lot hadn’t really made sense, if you think about it - why did they live right next to the frat house? Why couldn’t he remember past last week? Wh…

    A short, hard smack on his back from Coop, from his Nu big bro, and that smile. “Bro? You with us?”

    … with us…? with …. “Uhhh…”

    “C'mon, don’t tell me you actually thought… oh bro, huhuhuh … your kiddin me, you actually thought you was a nerd? C'mon, let’s get a pic with the bros. Here’s your phone.” Coop handed him an iPhone, and he saw the photos of him and his bros, all selfies, at the gym, in public, at the bar, mostly shirtless. One of them outside the bar, pointing to the “Game On!” embossed on the glass, grinning like an idiot.

    JJ raised the camera and smiled, almost the same as Coop, allowing it to grow and spread on his face. “Yo bros!” He yelled. “Say SIGMA NU FOR LIFE YO!”

    “SIGMA NU FOR LIFE!”

    Snap.

    jockedguy

    Harder and harder to remember his old life with each flex. Each flex takes away some of that old personality. Each flex, each selfie, each dumbass grin. Getting so dumb that it’s getting hard to talk to him. He just keeps flexing. And grinning. And talking about sports. His favorite is ice hockey. He loves watching a power forward bodyslam his opponent against the boards. He’s joined a pick-up team at the local ice rink. Even the other guys on the team think he’s kind of a dumbass, but they admit he’s a fuckin beast on the ice. They tease him a little bit, and he takes it in good fun, laughing at himself with them. They’ve gotten used to him always flexing and taking pictures of himself in the locker room. Sometimes they give him a hand and tell him to strike a dumbass pose like this shot, snapping photos of him as he flexes. No one knows that he’s actually gotten so dumb that he’s going to get fired from his office job soon. Good thing the gym he goes to is hiring.

    Stress

    “Fuck, fucking fuck” Thought Steven, walking agitatedly back towards his dorm. He had just been given a very short notice before his next exam.

    “How am I supposed to revise for this exam in two days? Like I got mathematics, coding and even more fucking coding on top of that. And after I top all that off, I got that dumb roommate, who I am supposed to live with.”

    Steve walks up the corridor until he gets to the door to his room. He took a deep breath, bracing for the loud, cocky personality of his roommate. Steve opened the door. He took off his hoodie and hung it up. Just as he turned to face the main room. He heard Cody, his roommate says “Think fast little bro”. Steve knew that Cody was about to throw something at him. He turned quickly and prepared himself for either a lot of pain and a bruise for the day or some disgusting underwear to hit his face. Steve saw out of the corner of his eye a football coming straight for him. He quickly managed to catch it.

    “Good catch. You should come and do some football man” Said Cody.  

    “Fuck you Cody, and why are you topless?” Replied Steve angrily.

    “I dunno, I just like it this way” Cody smirked.  

    Cody was perked up on his bed with no shirt on and only had some black gym shorts and a backwards black cap on. This wasn’t the first time Cody was like this, he did it many times, usually to get the attention of cute guys. Cody had very well-built, lean body that was hairless. When he wasn’t wearing his cap, he would have his hair all gelled up and pushed out forward. Cody also had a calm and relaxed personality, though he was always confident. He would always tease Steve about his body and sexuality. Steve hated this as he was a straight nerd and stubborn in being that way. Steve was computer science student, who rarely did anything other than research. He didn’t care for socialising much or doing activities that didn’t involve computers. His body was thin and weak, he wore glasses and his brown hair was long and messy since he never cut it.  

    Currently Steve had no time for his roommate. He had an exam coming up and little time to prepare. Steve ignored Cody’s cocky smirking.  

    “Ugh either way stay out of my way, I have things I need to do.”

    “Ohh Like what?”

    “Preparation for an exam on Monday”  

    “This is why nerd stuff is so boring. You have to so much stuff, why bother when you can be a jock and just do sports. It’s so easy”  

    “Because that’s dumb. Honestly Cody just shut it” and with that Steve turned away and got out his laptop, put his headphones in and started researching. Cody got up and began spraying deodorant over himself. He switched on his PlayStation 4 and loaded up the Latest Call of Duty, this was the extent of computers that Cody enjoyed. He jumped back down on the bed and began playing. The deodorant from his pits wafted out towards Steve who began sniffing it uncontrollably.  Steve was repulsed at first but slowly became dazed by the smell. He took out his headphones and got out of bed following the smell towards Cody.

    “You ok bruh” Said Cody playfully knowing what was happening.

    “What is that smell?” said Steve now much more dazed and relaxed

    “Ah this” Cody held up a silver can

    “It’s called Jock up Deodorant. Would you like some more?” Said Cody smirking

    “Oh yes, I WANT MORE OF IT NOW” Said Steve who had become hooked on it  

    Cody responded by lifting up his arm pits, which signaled Steve to go and sniff. Steve shot over to Cody’s bed and lay down next to him, his head stuck in Cody’s pits. Steve took a deep breath. Breathing plenty of the deodorant which was sucked down to the depths, seeping into every bit inside of him. His body began twitching. Steve took a second breath in, this time his body inflated becoming bigger and broader, half way between his old size and Cody’s. He took another breath, his body inflated again to the size of Cody’s. Another breath and the deodorant in him expanded his muscles, beefing him up. Another breath and pecs exploded out of his chest, his stomach pulled in forming abs. His clothes tightened to his new muscles. Steve took in the last of the deodorant and his clothes changed. His shirt disappeared and his jeans turned into red shorts that hugged his new bubble butt. The deodorant in Cody’s arm had finally gone. Steve moved back and looked down over his new body. He was bigger, he was swole. Before his legs only reached Cody’s knees now, they reached his feet. He looked at his new larger pecs. ‘Fuck I’m swole now but how…?’ Steve looked at Cody.

    “What did you do to me bruh?” Said Steve confused by his new language and masculine voice.

    “It seems to already be in your mind bruh, time to fix the rest of you” Said Cody, who got out the can of Deodorant. He took off the lid and pointed it at Steve.

    “Whoa dude what are you doing?” Steve said shocked

    “Turning you into a jock” said Cody with a smirk

     “Hold on…” Cody didn’t let Steve finish. He wanted him changed quickly. He sprayed Steve’s face relentlessly. As the spray hit Steve the smell filled him again and he went back into his dazed bliss. The rest of his physical began. His jaw began squaring out and the rest of his face began clearing itself of spots and other nerdy features. His hair receded until he had short hair. The sides went size one while the top of his hair began creating gel that styled his hair slightly. However, the excess gel formed a sturdier material which transformed into a light blue backwards cap that covered his hair. Steve’s mind was also being rewritten as he changed. His knowledge of computers and programming slowly drained and then his interest in it dwindled until he only enjoyed basic video games such as CoD or battlefield. Knowledge and interest in sports began taking over. Sport tactics, gym routines, fitness desires filled his mind while confidence and cockiness took over his personality. He would use his new personality and body to get hot bimbo’s he thought. He thought of women and big tits, how hot they were at first but then that changed to butts, abs, pecs and men, jocks in particular. He openly surrendered his heterosexuality and gave in, accepting his new masc for masc homosexuality. In his mind he began repeating ‘steve the jock’. Eventually though the name started changing. “Jave the jock, wait what? I’m not Jave, I’m Jake yeah Jake the jock”. Steve now accepted his new identity as Jake the jock. He looked over at Cody and was instantly filled with lust.  

    “Hey bruh” Said Jake flirtatiously  

    “hey you looking good bro” replied Cody, looking over his sexy creation feeling the same lust

    “let’s we get down to some fun here and then go and see Coach about me getting on the team” Jake and Cody then began to fuck together under the sheets, cementing Steve in his new life as Jake the Jock.