Waiting For The Roommate

Waiting For The Roommate

Max sat in the passenger seat of his roommate's truck, waiting for Buck, who needed to quickly come back to their dorm room. As he waited he took off his tank top, it was fuckin' hot inside. He rolled down the window to get some fresh inside the car.

As he stuck his head out the window to breathe in some fresh air he saw some nerd approach him. He was wearing a dark brown button-down shirt and had a stack of papers in his hand.

"Max, is that you?" The nerd asked, looking at him. A smile appeared on his face.

"uhhhhhhhh... dude, do i know ya?" He asked, convincing himself not to call the guy a loser or a nerd. Coach said he had to get better at dealing with strangers.

"Max, it's me - Michael. We went to high school together!" The other guy replied, clearly convinced that they knew each other. High school? Max's head was covered with a fog, he couldn't conjure up any specific memories from high school.

"you sure bro?"

"Damn, Max, we had like half our classes together!" The nerd was getting a bit frustrated for some reason. "We talked about going to the same uni, and so much more! And now you say you don't know me?"

Max tried to focus. High school, friends, classes, college. It felt like his brain was fighting against him, a thick fog covering everything. His thoughts began turning towards his next workout. Damn, he'll be doing arms and chest. Yea-- Holy shit, he knew that guy!

"oh fuck, mike, yeah, of course, how are you brah?" Max extended his hand for Mike to bump, but he just awkwardly looked at it. Max ignored it.

"Oh my god, for a moment I thought you weren't joking" A half-hearted laugh escaped Mike's mouth. Max just grinned. "I'm fine, settled into college life. Found a study group--" Mike continued talking but Max didn't register another word. He was this guy's good bro - apparently - but that didn't mean he would be able to tolerate that nerd bullshit. He was made for different things than studying - like workin' out with his best bro Buck.

"Anyway" Mike looked straight at Max, whose attention came back. "How was your first year. You look... like a different person!"

"what you mean bruh?" Max asked. What did that ner-- what did Mike mean? Different? He was always a badass jock.

"I mean, you're jacked! In high school you hated gym class, and here you are, buff and all."

"dude, am like, ya know, a real bro, dude. gotta be jacked as hell" He responded and flexed his right arm, his biceps moving and bulging under his skin.

"I mean, that's quite the change. Like, we kinda lost contact after the summer, and you didn't give any sign of life, and I thought... but you're here!" Mike was clearly excited and Max smiled. Wait, what was this dude's deal? He was textin' and talkin' with a nerd like that? Nah, this didn't make sense... where the fuck was Buck where he needed him!

"huhuhuhuhuhuh, yeah bruh" Max just chuckled like the dumb jock he was, he didn't know what to say. He shifted in his seat and scratched his armpit.

"Anyway" Mike went on "how was your first year in college? Were you able to get into that engineering program you've talked about?"

Engineeri-- what? "huhuhuh bro, are you high dude, i ain't here for some weird soundin' shit like that bro. am here to get drunk, work out and crush State, fuck yeah duhuhuhuh." Oh yeah, Max remembered the last game they played, State's lame ass defence couldn't stop the brute force of their offensive line. And the look on their faces when their WR1 tore a muscle in his leg... fuckin' priceless dude!

Mike was clearly not prepared for that answer, which Max found weird, cause he thought his jacked bod was proof enough that he wasn't a stupid nerd.

"Wait, so..." He was clearly confused "if you're not doing engineering then what is your major?"

"major?" Max had no idea what that guy meant... Major... what was a major... Coach talked to him about something like that... It was something along the lines of... "uhhhhh, general ed? dunno bro, never really been a guy to focus on shit."

"What, general education?" Mike seemed shocked. "But, like... I don't understand, Max, you... You said you wanted that, so that you could do a PhD... Why did you change your mind... Like, really, why did you change so much?!"

All that talk 'bout changes made Max's head spin a little bit. Like, what changes? He's been a fuckin' bro since he came here, got a room with Buck, cause before that-- his brain again began filling with fog, his thoughts slowing down to a halt, but not before he blurted out a response.

"duuuuude, like, bro, ive been a real bruh, like, forever dude, duuuuuuuh, like i got my bro Buck, and he got me to Coach, and uhhhhhhhhh, ya know, he worked on me and huhuhuh--" and his mind went blank, a dumb grin stuck on his face.

"What do you mean? A coach 'worked on' you? That sounds... concerning, you know that, right?" Mike adjusted his glasses and looked at Max, clearly concerned.

But Max... Max's brain had shut off. He was sitting in the passenger seat of his best bro Buck's truck, chuckling like a dumb idiot and drooling slightly.

"duhuhuhuhuhuh, duuuude... fuckin' hot today brah, gotta get that pump huhuhuhuh" He flexed his arm and touched his bulging biceps.

"Jesus, did they do something to you? Did you have some traumatic head injury?" Mike leaned on the car, looking inside the vehicle to see what was happening with Max. "God, did they brainwash you? You're a completely different person... and a dumb jock!"

It took a while for Max's fog-covered brain to register what the nerd said. And before he even began formulating a response Buck approached the car.

Buck was wearing a loose tank top that revealed his broad shoulders and giant guns, while also showing off his chest. His shorts, like second skin on his thick thighs, left nothing to imagination with his bulge clearly visible. He was a jock. An alpha. Max's best bro.

"duuude, ya won't believe the chick i saw while gettin' out of the dorm--" He started speaking as he opened the door on the driver's side, but then he noticed Mike standing by Max's window. "ey bruh, who's that loser?"

"huh?" Max turned to Buck, his grin disappearing and his his brow now furrowed. "i... dunno, bro..."

Buck and Mike looked at each other for a moment, the first one annoyed, the second slightly terrified.

"get away from the car" Buck barked as he sad down in front of the steering wheel.

"Wait, please, just a moment, you know what happened to Max? Pleas i just want to--"

"Go away, you fuckin' nerd" was the response Mike got. He took a step away from the car but didn't go away. Meanwhile Max realized what was happening. Some nerd was disturbing them and not listening to Buck's commands. And that wasn't the right thing to do. He turned his head to face the nerd.

"why you starin' at me, nerd" Max growled. His mind, completely covered by the fog, was now following Buck's lead. And Buck didn't like the nerd. So Max didn't like the nerd.

"Max, what... what happened?" Terror shifted into confusion as Mike tried to comprehend Max's sudden change in mood.

"oh, just fuck off, loser" Max responded and Buck took that as a sign. He turned the engine on and drove away, leaving Michael alone in the parking lot.

"uhhhhhh, do we know this guy?" Max asked a few minutes later. "that nerd form before?"

"nah, bro, of course not. we're real jocks, we're not gonna fraternize with fuckin' losers." Buck let our a low and dumb laugh. "by the way, tomorrow we're gonna get ya to Coach for a check up, just in case"

The Rookie's Figuring It Out

Going back to my dorm room, just had a meeting with Mr. Bridges, and he-- wait, who's Mr. Bridges? Anyway, just came out of a meeting with Coach, went great bro, got all the details figured out. Now I can go back to my place and relax, that was an exhausting day.

As I enter the dormitory building my phone buzzes. I take it and see I got a text from Jamie asking about... wait, what study group is he-- damn, some nerd got his numbers mixed up, I ain't joining no lame study group, no way bruh.

I enter my room and as I put my things away I feel my body aching. But i can't really say why, cause I didn't really-- dude, my muscles are, like, burning bro. Coach dragged me through a nightmare of a workout earlier, ya know, to see if I am worth putting on the roster.

i jump on the couch, now's the time to play some madden bruh, huhuhuhuh... dude, what are those books laying on the table? Intro to anthro... antrop... pology... that is, wait, I... I know, that's like-- huhuh bruh, that's some nerd shit here dude. dunno how it got here but i know where it'll go dude - straight into the trash, where it belongs bro.

bruh, where's my ps4 bro, dude? how am i s'possed to crush random losers on the internet when i don't have that fuckin' console-- dude, gotta prep some food for tomorrow, gotta get that protein huhuhuh, or Coach will get mad-- Coach says to eat enough calories and get enough protein. Coach's word is law. Coach is always right.

so i'm lookin' at my schedule, yeah? and we gotta practice 'morrow for like 4 hours or so, but here i have, in my calendar or whatever, and there's some college shit like dude, like classes and shit, like damn, i gotta tell Coach that i have some conflict in my schedule-- huhuhuhuh damn bro, got some fuckin' class in muh schedule during practice. fuck, what pussy goes to "ancient history 101" like, what a fuckin' idiot dude

wait bro, wait... so im a football bro, yeah, right, but i play college football, and college means, uhhh... like, what was that shit dude, damn... a major, right... college means havin' a major bro, and my major's something like... bruh, its like... oh wait-- huhuhuh dude, who gives a shit about some nerd shit bro, am here to play ball and bro out BRUH!

i 'ave Coach takin' care of all that boring ass shit dude, yeah, he's takin' care of all that smart bullshit and im just workin' out and tacklin' dudes bro. fuck yeah, dude, that's right bruh. im a fuckin' football dawg, born to play and to crush every goddamn dude who stands in my way bro, not to care 'bout any of that lame pussy shit bro. ya wanna go get those guns pumped, bro?

Coach's Process of Developing a Jock

TW: mentions of bullying and harassment

There are three pillars that Coach considers vital to the development of his jocks.

The first one is physical strength - football jocks need to have the primal urge to lift heavy things and spend hours at the gym, as well as a never-fulfilled desire for their muscles to get bigger.

The second is football intelligence. A jock shouldn't spend time studying or revising for exams, these things ought not to occupy his mind. But he has to have a detailed understanding of the rules of football, so that he can demolish every oponent he comes across on his way to a championship. He has to know how to execute plays perfectly, read the other team and adapt accordingly.

But the third pillar is just as important as the other two - the attitude. Coach, someone with - let's say - a conservative streak, believes his jocks should present all the masculine traits he deems important, and do this publicly, without shame.

It all begins with pride. From the very beginning of their mental conditioning, Coach makes sure his jocks will he proud men, ready to show off their achievements. A football jock has to make sure everyone around him is aware of his triumphs. This also serves the purpose of keeping the morale in the locker room on a high level - all these jocks have to remember what beasts they are on the field and that they are capable of completely demolishing everyone if they so desire (and Coach makes sure they do desire it).

Next one is domination. As a football machine that is programmed to win, a jock needs to be able to take control of any situation, make himself the alpha in the room and on the gridiron. This assures that he will fight to get that W in all circumstances, not accepting "no" as an answer.

The two traits above are then accented with arrogance. A jock walks around like he owns the place, because he does. The university gets the funding and prestige because of his dominance on the field. He is on top of the social ladder and doesn't question it. He also knows what people are below him and treats them as such, always looking down and displaying his higher status.

All of this is then augmented with anger. Some would call it toxic behavior or "problems with anger management", but for Coach a real jock requires that streak of aggression flowing in his veins. This allows him to function in his environment with ease, as no problem is really a problem when you're ready to just crush your way through it.

And it starts from the very beginning. Hypnotic videos and tracks Coach uses are infested with examples of dominant and cocky behavior. They set the example of how an aggressive and proud football jock acts, and make conforming to such a way or being a high priority.

Later stages require orchestrating scenarios that encourage the expected behaviors and test the instincts of prospective football jocks. When a jock's grades fall below the NCAA threshold Coach suggests getting a nerd to do the hard work. Violence as a way of solving conflicts between jocks is not discouraged, as long as the injuries don't influence in-game performance. Someone always begins a wave of flexing and posing at the end of a team workout sessions.

Every batch of jocks turns into a form of a high-control group after enough time. Bros who respond better to mental conditioning begin to influence other jocks who need some more time to conform, as their proud, masculine behavior and dominance forces the others to either ascend to the same level and join the alpha bros at the top of the ladder or attain the status of "lesser". No football jock will ever be lesser under Coach, so it doesn't take that long for the locker room to become a textbook example of masculinity, cockiness and dominance, with not a single exception to the rule.

In later stages its only a matter of overseeing the jocks in their life on the team, taking action every time it's likely that a jock is sliding back into his "pre-football" ways.

Coach sometimes has to work a bit harder to maintain the order he's created. The league and NCAA officials are not always keen on violence on the sidelines, so when one of his defensive linemen's fist lands on an enemy WR's face, some strings have to be pulled in the background. There are elements within the university structure that are hostile to Coach's methods and the jock attitude he's nurturing inside of his locker room. But every allegation of bullying or cheating can be worked through in such a way that the jocks come out on top. It's not a question of if, but of how.

Every time Coach sees one of his jocks push over a loser on the hallway, trash talk their conference rivals, take part in a biceps measuring contest in the gym or extort some assignments for class, he knows his methods are working exactly as intended.

Now onto the next batch of recruits.

Law, Order and Musk

CW: explicit sections + slurs

Logan laid on the bed, Sergeant Cross looking down at him, preventing him from moving.

"You like that, don't you, you bitch" Cross growled, an arogant smirk on his face. "You need a man to show you your place in the hierarchy." He then flexed his arms. "That's the sight of a real man."

Logan swallowed loudly. Cross lowered himself his face just a few inches from Logan's. "You feel it? The masculine musk of a grueling workout. This is how men smell, this is how real men feel." He then grabbed Logan's head and pushed it into his armpit. "Now feel it for yourself, you scum."

Logan took a few deep whiffs and then licked Cross' hairy pits, almost getting high on his smell. Cross held his head for a moment, before loosening his grip and letting Logan return to his previous position.

Cross flexed his arms again. "Look at these guns. This is raw, masculine power that will crush you if you go against it." He then grabbed Logan by his shirt and thrust him upwards, so that his face was now directed at his bulging biceps. Cross looked at Logan, who knew what to do.

He began worshiping these arms, kissing and massaging them. As he did, he felt his cock leaking, straining against the jockstrap he was wearing. Cross also noticed that.

"Duhuhuh, you like a man putting you in your place." he said as he cupped Logan's package in his hand. "You fucking faggot--"

Logan's work phone started ringing. Cross didn't react, still looking menacingly at Logan, who groaned and rolled his eyes.

"Ugh, fuck." He looked at the other man leaning over him. "Okay Cross, time out. Gotta take care of this." Sergeant's demeanor suddenly changed. He quickly got off of Logan and stood next to the bed, his arm up in a salute. "Sir, yes sir."

Logan smirked. "Glad we understand each other. Now go and do the laundry while I take care of this" he ordered the other man, who saluted him again and left the bedroom with a "Yes, Chief!"

Logan answered the phone. It was just a boring call from corporate that could have been an e-mail, but wasn't unfortunately.

It's been just under a month since Cross became a fixed part of Logan's apartment and he still couldn't get enough of that man.

Their paths crossed when Logan's close friend complained to him about a cop that stopped her on her way to work even though she was driving under the speed limit, then went on to be an extremely sexist douchebag during the whole encounter.

So he pulled some strings at work and found a way inside their local police department, where he found the man himself - Sergeant Dylan Cross. 6'4, broad shoulders and chest, bulky arms and legs, that man was the poster child for the police force. And the local gym. Everything about him screamed "I have the power." So Logan decided to change that.

At first he only wanted some revenge. Get the cop under his control with some fancy hypnosis, then humiliate him and make him painfully aware of it. Give him a short but painful lesson about abusing his position and disappear.

But he couldn't get enough. There was something about this man that pulled Logan towards him, and he couldn't deny it. So he changed course. Cross was single and lived alone so the first part was easy. Logan had an apartment way too big for one person, thus he didn't have a problem fitting the cop in.

Then came the training. Over the course of a week Logan worked on Cross, making him completely obedient to him. Using the parts of his police training that found their way into his subconscious Logan made sure that Cross saw as his boss - a Chief with all the power.

With that out of the way, Cross became Logan's personal cop, taking care of everything he needed taken care of. That meant house chores, work-related stuff, providing security on business meetings and so on.

It didn't take long until Logan's attraction to Cross became inescapable. It also didn't take a genius to figure out that the macho cop was straight, but Logan was ready for a challenge. It took him surprisingly little effort to turn the officer from a heterosexual player into a bisexual who exclusively slept with men. And one man in particular.

Depending on Logan's mood Cross was his caring lover or aggressive dom. Logan found himself enjoying Cross's arrogant demeanor and so he made sure that the cop's original personality was always somewhere under the layers of conditioning, ready to be unleashed whenever Logan was horny enough.

Logan was still on the phone when he saw Cross standing in the entrance to the bedroom, hands behind his back, looking straight ahead. He looked at the cop and, knowing that it would take him a while to take care of this call, he made a motion with his hand as if he was lifting a dumbbell. Cross quickly understood, saluted Logan and walked over to his gym that Logan made him organize on the other side of the apartment.

Another 20 minutes later, and Logan was finally free. A few moments after he finished the call Cross came back, his body covered in sweat and his tank top wet and damp. "Sir, reporting after a 20 minute upper body session."

"Good job, officer" Logan answered, already feeling the smell of sweat fill his nostrils "We can now continue where we left off." Cross saluted again, before his expression changed to that of pure anger. He immediately moved over to where Logan was standing, then grabbed and pushed him onto the bed.

Logan watched as Cross took off his tank top, which he then threw on the bed next to him. The cop then walked up tot he bed, standing over Logan and looking at him with disgust. He dragged his hand over his sweaty stomach and let the sweat dropping from it cover Logan's face. "You fucking faggot. Can't get enough of me."

Logan's dick got hard immediately. He licked some of the sweat from his face as Cross leaned over him, putting his arm next to Logan's head. The cop took the tank laying on the bed and put it up to the smaller man's nose.

"Feel it bitch? That's the smell of a real man."

Headphones In, Guns Out

Bradley entered the weight room. He took out his phone and plugged in his headphones. He then went into Spotify and selected a new workout playlist the algorithm suggested for him a few days ago. As the music began playing he began warming up.

bruh

He was doing upper body today, wanted to see his chest and arms clearly defined under his t-shirts and hoodies.

just a dumb brah

He found his way to the free weights section, took two dumbbells in his hands and began doing bicep curls.

fuckin' pump that iron dude

He went through the three sets and felt... like it wasn't that hard, actually. Motivated by this feeling, he moved over to an unoccupied bench and put on some weights on the bar.

wearin' that sweaty tank bro

Wow, he was sweating from all that exercise, this workout was feeling so different.

such a dumb bull, a strong bull

He finished rep after rep, lifting the bar as if it was made from feathers. Goin' great, yeah bro?

a bull needs a trainer

Huh?

a sweaty jock follows his Coach

Oh, the playlist is looping already? Huh, thought it was longer. Whatever, let's continue with the lifting.

bruh

just a dumb brah

Wow, he could actually see some pump on his arms. Damn, dude...

fuckin' pump that iron dude

wearin' that sweaty tank bro

Oh yeah! He finished another set and he felt great. His bros would beg for guns like his, duhuhuhuh...

such a dumb bull, a strong bull

Wait... what?

a bull needs a trainer

What bros?

a sweaty jock follows his Coach

Bradley looked down... and he was huge! His whole body had clearly defined muscles, and his now t-shirt, damp form sweat, was straining against his pecs and shoulders. And... and he didn't have any bros, he wasn't a dumb jock like that, he wasn't some strong bull! Bradley grabbed the cable of his headphones and was about to--

BRUH

JUST A DUMB BRAH

FUCKIN' PUMP THAT IRON DUDE

WEARIN' THAT SWEATY TANK BRO

SUCH A DUMB BULL, A STRONG BULL

A BULL NEEDS A TRAINER

A SWEATY JOCK FOLLOWS HIS COACH

...

BRUH

...

PUMP THAT IRON

...

SWEATY

...

DUMB BULL

...

TRAINER

...

JOCK FOLLOWS COACH

...

--Brady let out a dumb chuckle as he added more weights to the bar before going back to lifting. Up and down. Up and down. Rep after rep, set after set. He was such a strong bull. A beast his Coach would be proud of.

As he lifted the bar for a hundredth time he thought about that party his bros invited him to. Dude, that will be sick, bro.

Duhuhuhuhuhuh, look at these guns bruh.

Such a dumb and strong bull, brah!

Todd opened his eyes, only to see a gym full of sweaty hunks, instead of the dorm room in which he felt asleep, planning for this to be just a quick nap. He underestimated the chances of waking up in a body of a 6'4 240 lbs brute, with biceps the size of footballs, tree trunks for legs and absolutely jacked upper body.

He didn't have time to panic though, because another sweaty jock came up to him. "'ey bro, am finished with my set for now. You too bro?" Todd would later learn that it was TJ, a tight end from his college's football team. But now he was scrambling to come up with a response.

"Uhm, yes... uhh, yeah, I'm finished, yeah." He half-murmured. TJ didin't wait for a response and sat down next to him on the bench, leaning back and spreading his legs wide apart.

"Bruh, I'm so fuckin' pumped bro, it's unreal dude. That new routine Coach gave us is fuckin' rad bro." TJ then proceeded to flex both his arms, hplding them in a double bicep pose for a moment. Todd just nodded and grunted a quick "Yeah, bro." After a few seconds Tj lowered his arms, but not before sniffing one of his armpits.

"Huhuhuh shit bro, i fuckin' reek dude." He then let out a low laugh, so common in dumb football bros. Todd turned to the jock sitting next to him and the smell of musk and sweat hit him like a train, invading his nostrils. The words "Dude, you need a shower" instintively left his mouth. A moment later he realized what he had just said, and hoped the other jock wouldn't react badly.

"Huhuhuh" TJ just chuckled like an idiot "That's the smell of a real man, Strand."

Strand just... no, Todd just sat there, almost paralyzed by the odor that enveloped him. TJ meanwhile stretched his arms, his armpits exposed, and his muscle tee damp. As waves of musk and sweat reached Todd, his head began to hurt. The feelings of repulsion and disgust suddenly started changing into normalcy and relaxation. StrandTodd's posture changed, he leaned back on the bench, with his legs now slightly away form each other.

"Bruh, that's life, am I right dawg?" TJ drawled and a grin appeared on StrandTodd's face. He chuckled and responded "Yeah, bro, that's life bro." When Todd realized that he had just said that, and worse, that he felt comfortable, here with TJ, both of their bodies reeking of sweat, dread... was the opposite of what Strand felt as he relaxed with his bro after a killer session in the gym. His arms were pumped, his pecs burned with pain that was a testament to his dedication to working out.

TJ looked at his bro and grinned. "Ey, Strand bro, you goin' to that beer fest at Alpha Phi?" His bro slapped TJ in the back and said "Huhuhuh bruh, the fuck you're asking me bro. Duh, I'm going. And am taking ya with me dude." The both laughed like the two dumb jocks they were, then took their duffels and left the gym.