Evolvingbro - Evolving JockBro

The Bro Zone Resort

Mike entered the resort’s reception area and looked around. It was early in the day so there weren’t that many people around. He walked up to the desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?” A large and muscular man, wearing a tank top with the resort’s logo proudly displayed on his chest, was standing on the other side of the desk and looking at Mike with a slight grin.

“Uhm, hi.” He slowly responded, not used to such a brawny dude talking to him. “I… I have a reservation under the name Mike Crawford for uhhh… the “Bro Tropical” package, I think.” The man behind the desk smiled and nodded, then typed something into his computer while Mike’s eyes wandered towards his broad chest. Then he finally noticed the name written on the tank top, above the left pectoral. Brock. A name very fitting the man, Mike thought.

“Okay, I have everything he need.” Brock spoke, throwing Mike out of his line of thought.

“Uhm, sorry what?” He put on a sheepish grin and Brock chuckled. 

“I have everything ready for you, Mike.” A brochure and a room card were put on the counter by Brock. “You’ll spend your week at the Bro Zone in Room 37F, and your resident for the length of your stay will be Cross, one of our best.” Mike thanked Brock, took all that was given to him and walked up to the elevator. He quickly got up to the third floor and started walking along the corridor, looking for his room. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the elevator shaft and he unlocked the door with the card he got at the reception desk.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The entire room reeked of sweat, cheep cologne and a few other things Mike could not name. As he got his bag into the room and closed the door behind him, he looked around and saw an absolute mess. Used jockstraps, shorts and tank tops were hanging from every piece of furniture. Dumbbells were scattered on the floor and every flat surface was covered by cans of coke and protein shake bottles. Mike closed his eyes and let the horrible smell fill his nostrils. God, he was in heaven, he thought.

Suddenly he heard some sounds coming from the bathroom and the door to it opened, revealing the main attraction of Mike’s stay at The Bro Zone. In front of him stood a 6’3 brute, every part of his body thick with muscles, with a few tattoos, a tank top clearly too small to cover all of this bulk, and sweaty gym shorts. Cross looked at Mike, scratched at his crotch and nodded.

“Sup, brah? You Mike?”

“Uhm, yeah.” He nodded awkwardly. Cross shrugged and walked around Mike, then settled on the couch and grabbed one of the half-empty protein shakers on the table next to him.

“Yer bedroom’s on the right” The gym bro moved his hand around, showing Mike what was where in their apartment. “There’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen, there’s the entrance to the terrace with the pool.”

“Thanks” Mike smiled and walked towards his bedroom.

“Whatever, bro” He heard a grumbled response behind his back.

Mike went into his room and quickly unpacked. The sweaty stench was still very much there, but at least there was no random shit on the floor. As he sat down on the bed and took a deep breath, he smiled. He already knew he was gonna enjoy his stay at the resort.

Then he took out the brochure he got form Brock after coming in and flipped through the pages until he found the only actually important thing - the command that would allow him to control Cross. There were limitations to this of course, the gym bro wouldn’t do anything that would go against his core traits that Mike chose while booking his stay. But it was still a powerful weapon.

With the command memorized, Mike quickly changed into his swimming shorts, his hard on already visible, and left his room. He went back to the main area of the apartment and looked at Cross, who was watching something on TV, his sweaty armpits exposed for Mike to see.

“Bro code.” Mike said with an assertive tone. Cross turned towards him. He still had that arrogant expression on his face, but he was clearly listening. “Go get changed, we’re going swimming.”

“Sure bruh, whatever ya say dude.” The bro shrugged and stood up, then went outside. Mike had a giant grin on his face, he was so excited. 

When he went outside onto the terrace a minute later he saw Cross on the edge of the pool, wearing only a pair of briefs and sunglasses, his hunky body - and his hefty package - almost completely exposed. Mike slowly licked his lips and took a step forward.

When I get to our dorm room, I see Rocco at his desk, in a well-tailored linen shirt and slacks. His long hair’s immaculately coiffed. My roommate for the semester looks like he jumped out a fashion catalogue, while I’m standing here in a heather grey sideless tee. But you know they say: Sun’s out, guns out.

“Hey Rocco,” I say. “Enjoying California? The weather’s not too different from back in Italy, is it?”

Rocco shakes his head.

“This whole week, people kept mistaking me for the professor. Brian, is there something about me that screams ‘teacher?’”

I give him a once over before stating the obvious:

“Bro, it’s cuz you’re always dressed up in that preppy Euro shit. No one our age wears that stuff and calls it ‘casual’ like you do.”

“So I’ll have to dress like a slob to look my age? I don’t think I can go out in public in workout clothes and baseball caps like you. You and your friends always look like you’re ready to go to the gym, even at lecture!”

“I don’t see a problem with that, bro.”

“You know what, I so overpacked for this semester. Why try you take some of my clothes and try what it feels like to dress like an adult?”

“Only if you try some of my clothes, too.”

Before he knows it, I stand right behind his chair and place my Oakland A’s cap on his head.

“Here bro, try wearing my cap… See, it looks good on you! Now let’s turn it backwards…”

As I hold Rocco’s head in my hands, I feel his skin get warm, and see specks of light spreading down from the cursed ball cap, enveloping him from top to bottom. My roommate’s body slumps and his expression becomes blank. And the cycle continues.

When my big bro gave me this cap last year, it drained all my brains and softboy style, and replaced them with muscle and a jock attitude. And now I see the same happening to Rocco. Rounding delts and thickening pecs start to tear the seams of his shirt and pop the buttons. The hair on his head shortens to a more manageable style that won’t be ruined by sweating during a workout or pickup basketball. His skin becomes tanner, making it look like he hasn’t been avoiding the sun all summer.

“Bruh, I feel funny,” says Rocco, sounding like a local.

“You look funny wearing that shit,” I say.

Rocco looks at himself and seems surprised at what he’s wearing. I let him borrow my distressed American flag tank and yellow training shorts.

“Good, now you’re an all American bro, Rocco! Or should I say Rocky?”

“Rocky sounds fuckin’ good, bruh.” We head out to my big bro’s house party so I can introduce Rocky to his big big bro. But before we head in, I just have to take a snap of my fellow swoldier.

“Sun’s out, guns out,” Rocky shouts while flexing, before sticking his tongue out for the pic.

This is an updated version of my caption for the same pic in a March 2015 post.

Fuck yeah coach, Im so focused on getting in the zone!