Personality Change - Tumblr Posts
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!
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."
More Loyal, More American, More The Same
Coach had been annoyed a bit lately. It wasn't because of any singular thing - a lost game or some encounter. It was more of a... vibe, as his players would say. It's something that's been nagging him for a long time.
The whole atmosphere around college football has changed. Players can now earn money, meaning they now care only about getting rich instead of sacrificing everything they've got for the team. The craze abound 'toxic masculinity' has taken hold, and as a result many guys on the team have taken up interests and activities unworthy of real men - and they are extremely public about this!
Something has been lost - some immeasurable yet vital part of college football's spirit. And unfortunately Coach's team wasn't immune to this. He has seen his younger recruits display a variety of behaviors that differed from his view of how a college football rookie should function in a locker room filled with other football players.
And Coach's opinion becomes the law of the locker room. So after he saw a few of his defensive linemen participate in a film theory seminar, and his starting wide receiver posted a picture showing him attending some anti-government protest, he knew he had to act.
He decided to tackle these issues in a few ways. He began with working on his players' patriotism. Coach knew that he needed his guys to have this base layer - respect for the great nation that they were a part of - that he could build upon. He turned to one of his most trusted tools, subconscious messaging hidden in his videos and presentations.
you are an American
you are a Real Patriot
you play AMERICAN football
you fight for America
America is the greatest country on Earth
you preserve American traditions and values
During teem meetings, the players' minds began internalizing the importance of unquestionable loyalty to the US of A, the greatest place in the world. Coach spent a few weeks working on this, and when Military Appreciation Day came, for the first time in a long time, the whole team took active part in it. He even heard a few of them talk abut enlisting after college.
Motivated by such positive results, Coach moved to his next objective. After a bit of tampering, the speakers the players used to play music in the gym during workouts began incorporating conditioning that would align their behavior with Coach's expectations.
i am a man
i am proud to be a man
i am a strong man
i do what is masculine
my manhood needs upkeep
masculinity defines me
Alongside this, it didn't take a lot of work for coach to make sure that none of his players could sign up for any extracurricular activity through the school's registration system. Not only that, they were now barred form attending anything other than the most basic of classes.
Fortunately, the results were visible here as well. The players stopped attending seminars and lectures created by a bunch of nerds and no longer showed interest in investing much time into any sort of academic work.
The last step Coach decided to undertake was meant to address the issue of money. Players, having the ability to make deals and get income from their appearance in games, seemed to have lost the true reason for playing college football. But there was a way of dealing with that too.
The new helmets that the athletics department bought recently all include a pair of speakers for the purpose of communication between the coaches and the player. In theory this is reserved only for the QB, but there's nothing Coach can't work around.
i play AMERICAN football
i am grateful Coach allows me to play
i play football for glory and to preserve tradition
the thrill of the game is enough
i am Coach's loyal football jock
During every practice, during every workout, during every game, the player's minds were being bombarded with Coach's hypnotic message. And it was working. The guys were displaying their patriotism more often - flags hanging in their rooms, tons of pro-american posts on Instagram, they stopped attending non-mandatory classes and instead added another team session in the gym to their schedules, and Coach noted a visible drop in the number of sponsorship deals the players were making.
There might have been one side effect. As time went on the players began looking more and more similar. The same hobbies, mostly working out or shooting, the same clothes, the same views, the same drive to protect tradition. And Coach had absolutely nothing against that. Who cares if they all act the same, as long as they act exactly as he wants them to.
As Coach's loyal football jocks.
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"
Mandatory PE Class
Markus walked through the university campus, his face clearly showing his annoyance at the situation he was going through. His school decided to "promote physical activity among the student body", and by "promote" they meant a mandatory Physical Education class every junior had to go through. And Marcus was not happy about it.
Marcus was an introvert - he didn't particularly enjoy parties, going to bars, or other typical college activities. He spent his time reading, researching and weightlifting. This might seem weird for a "nerd", but whenever Marcus put on his noise-canceling headphones and grabbed the bar with 100 or so pounds on it, he felt like he could finally relax.
But even though Marcus enjoyed going to the gym, he enjoyed it when he was there alone - no one with him, the amount of people in the gym at a minimum. These were the perfect conditions for him. This class would not be it. He would have to deal with God knows how many people, plus most likely some smart ass coach, who thinks he's the next Arnold Schwarzenegger.
The university gave him a choice of what he wanted to do during the class and Marcus chose weight training, hoping he would be left alone and allowed to just follow his usual routine without any interruptions.
Marcus arrived at the athletics department's building and after wandering through its corridors he found his way to Weight Room C09. He knocked and heard a booming voice invite him inside. He opened the door and walked into a smallish locker room, where a few guys were getting ready and another man, clearly older than the others, stood on the side and waited. That was probably the coach.
"Marcus, right?" the supposed coach walked up to Marcus. "I'm Assistant Coach Baker and I'll be leading your group this semester." He extended his hand and Marcus shook it reluctantly. He quickly turned around and began changing into his gym gear.
Once everyone was ready (and there weren't many people in Marcus' group - only 6 guys) the group led by Coach Baker moved to the weight room proper. Marcus wanted to walk up to Baker and ask him if he could just do his own routine, but before he had mustered up the courage to do this Baker began warming up and expected the rest to do the same. Marcus rolled his eyes and sighed, before joining the group.
The next hour passed slowly. Baker had the group do a fairly quick and lite set of exercises, lite for Marcus at least. After the class had ended everyone was getting out of their sweaty shirts in the locker room. Marcus put his gear in his backpack and as the rest of the students began leaving the room, he walked up to Coach Baker.
"Sir, could I make a certain request?" He asked, a bit shy.
"Oh, Marcus, yeah? I also wanna talk with you about something. But go on." He wanted to talk with Marcus about something? That didn't sound great. He stood silent for a moment.
"So..." Baker looked at Marcus, his eyebrow raised.
"Oh yeah. So... I was wondering... I, I go to the gym quite often, and have for a few years now... and so I thought... Would it be a problem if during these PE classes I... I just followed my usual routine and you, you just did what you have planned with the rest?"
Coach smiled as he listened. Marcus wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing.
"Well, Marcus, I'm glad you see the importance of exercise. But I don't want no divisions in my group, you understand. I want to work with all of you, show something to everyone. Although, because you asked, I'll be sure to adjust the exercises for your level." Marcus nodded, although he wasn't really happy with Baker's response. "And while we're talking, I wanted to ask you something - would you be interested in trying out for our football team?"
This took Marcus by surprise. The football team? Where did that idea come from? He was not about to join a group of brain dead jocks.
"What?" he simply asked, confused.
"Well, I have noticed your strength during our hour together. And I think you would do great on the gridiron." Baker put his hand on Marcus' shoulder. Marcus did not like that.
"Wel, uhm... thank you for the proposition, but... no, I'm, I don't think I would fit in."
"Are you sure? I could help you fit in just right." Baker grinned again.
"Yeah... I'm sure... Mr. Baker" Marcus stood there and avoided eye contact with the older man.
"Call me Coach" Baker laughed. "If you're sure... well, I ain't gonna force ya. Now go, I'll see you next week."
As Marcus left the building he sighed. This was going to be an exhausting semester.
Reality turned out weirder than he expected.
As the months progressed Marcus attended every PE class, his annoyance with Baker's refusal to just let him do what he wanted not strong enough to risk messing with his attendance. Baker meanwhile stuck to his word, and for the most part Marcus was doing what the rest of the group was doing.
Although... this wasn't the whole truth. Because even though Marcus wasn't allowed to do his own thing, while doing the exercises Baker would come up to him and ask him to change something about the movements, add more weight, do another variant of the exercise. So even though he was working with the group, he did get the chance to do way more challenging things.
Baker himself was weirdly invested, at least that's how it seemed to Marcus. He very much got into that role of the supportive coach, he stood next to Marcus, counted his reps, motivated him to "just push further". Marcus found that strange, but didn't want to get into any kind of argument with the coach, so he just went along with this.
As the semester came to an end Marcus also had to admit he got something out of these classes. The exercises Baker had him do were pushing his limits, and he did adjust his normal gym routine to include stuff he learnt from him As he looked in the mirror, standing in his room on the day of the last class before the end of the semester he had to admit he was bigger than 5 months prior.
The last class came and went pretty uneventfully. Marcus beat his PB on the bench by 10 pounds and after an hour he came back to the locker room sweaty and gross. Baker thanked all the guys for coming, asked them to continue going to the gym and said goodbye.
As Marcus got ready to leave the locker room Baker looked at him and said "See you at practice, 90" and went back to the weight room. Marcus had no idea what that meant, but the class was over so he just shrugged and left.
Marcus entered his dorm room and sat behind his desk. He had some work to do on a paper he wanted to submit next week. He opened his laptop and quickly got to work. After a while he needed something to drink so he stood up and walked up to his mini fridge. There he noticed a mug standing on top of it. It was a cup branded with the logo of the Lions, his university's football team.
This was weird, as Marcus did not recall ever getting any merchandise like that. Maybe someone left it here by mistake, Marcus didn't know. But it seemed it was the only clean mug he had, so he quickly poured soda into it and went back to his laptop.
He got into the flow of writing and research pretty quickly. Then, around half an hour later, he was surprised by a notification from some group chat. 10 unread messages from "jungle kingssss đź’Ş". What the hell was that? Marcus was sure he never joined such a conversation. Maybe it was some new kind of scam.
The notifications just kept coming, and at one point instead of deleting it Marcus clicked on it and a chat window appeared.
nah bruh, ya slayed that bitch well dude - steroidss#96
dude concentrate ffs - big dog jake#7
stfu bros where the fuck is tron where ya need him - mike chief#53
hes jerkin of or meal preppin bro, ya know that - steroidss#96
Marcus looked at the chat, even though he had no idea what he was looking at. It seemed he somehow had access to a group chat of some random meatheads. Although the numbers from their nicknames were tickling something at the back of his head, somehow.
if hes jerkin his fat dick ill kick his fat ass, we have state to fuckin beat - big dog jake#7
State? What does it mean they have to beat-- oh yeah, the Lions' next game is against Ohio State.
Wait.
What does that we mean in "we have state to beat"?
How did he know the Lions' schedule?
Marcus felt his head spin a little. Was he sick? He looked at the screen again and suddenly a new message appeared.
am not fuckin jerkin off you piece of shit, got fuckin dumbass school to take care of you idiots - tron's big dick#90
Marcus looked down. His fingers were still touching the keys. HE WROTE THAT!
And that we... It meant the football team! Marcus was reading the football team's group conversation. How the fuck did this happen?!
dunno why i even bother wit any of your stupid fat asses you fuckin shits - tron's big dick#90
Marcus jumped out of the chair. He did it again! His fingers were betraying him. He shut the laptop down and opened the window. Maybe he had to breathe in some fresh air. Was he hallucinating? Was this some infection? What was happening to him?!
He sat on his bed and breathed in, then out. In and out, in and out. In and out. In and out-- was he drooling!? Marcus wiped the drool from his face. It was getting late and he decided it would be beneficial to go to bed early. He turned around to get to his bed only to notice a sweaty hoodie with badly cut-off sleeves. It had the Lions' logo on the front and the number 90 on the back.
This was not happening.
This was just a dream.
Marcus told himself that repeatedly as he got into his PJs. He checked if his laptop was turned off and laid on his bed. He could swear he could feel a faint smell of sweat and... cum? But this didn't stop him from quickly falling asleep.
Marcus was dragged out of sleep by his alarm clock. He slowly got his body into an upright position, then began going through his usual morning routine.
He made himself a protein shake with added creatine.
He ate the oatmeal and eggs he always had for breakfast.
He put on the sweaty shirt from two days ago. It was fine, no one would notice. And he looked hot in it anyways.
He sent a message on the group chat.
you bitches ready to get dominated n pushed into the grass by my fat dick - tron's big dick#90
He got his gear ready and put his duffel bag on his shoulder.
the faggot of the team has spoken everybody - hall/of/glory#38
Marcus walked through the campus. He let out a dumb chuckle as he read the message. Jalen was the best.
not everyone can slay pussy like tron, bitch - tron's big dick#90
He entered the building and walked towards the locker room-- Marcus suddenly stopped and looked around.
Where was he?
He didn't remember waking up.
He didn't remember dressing up.
He didn't remember coming here.
Where was he?
As he tried to understand what the fuck was going on Assistant Coach Baker appeared, walking through the corridor, coming towards him.
"You know why you're here, Marcus?"
"No!" Marcus shouted, surprising himself, but not Baker.
"As I thought. Follow me" the older man waved at him and Marcus instinctively followed his lead. They walked through the football wing of the athletics department until they reached a door. Locker Room L01.
They both entered - Baker first, Marcus second - and Coach pointed to an open locker. Marcus walked up to it and looked inside.
Jersey. Number 90. Schoeder. His name.
Shoulder pads.
Cleats.
Condoms.
Gym gear.
It all reeked of sweat.
So fuckin' musky.
Huhuhuhuh, a proper jock's smell, bro
bro
bruh
WHAT!?
Coach came up to Marcus and looked him in the eyes.
"Do you know why you're here, 90?"
Marcus opened his mouth and tried to answer. But no words came out.
Coach grinned and took a sweaty Under Armour shirt from his locker. He then put the shirt up to his nostrils.
Marcus automatically inhaled and a fog descended over his mind. He took a few more sniffs. So sweaty, so musky. A fuckin' football jock's smell. A stupid grin appeared on his face, drool began flowing from his mouth. Bruh, that was so fuckin' good bro.
"Sick bro..." Tron drawled and put his arms into a double bicep pose. Coach Baker just smiled and took back the shirt before throwing it into the locker.
"Now, 90, put on the gear. I've trained a new defensive end for 5 months. Let's see it it was worth the hassle." He patted Tron on the back before barking at him. "Main field in 2 minutes or you won't be able to walk for a week, 90!"
"Huhuhuhuh" Tron responded with a dumb chuckle. "Yeah, Coach. No worries, dude."
He then quickly got ready and ran out onto the field.
whos ready for a fuckin beatin - tron's big dick#90
A Real Jock's Supposed To Be Dumb
Mike had a problem. And that problem was Tyler Grant.
Tyler Grant and Mike were both juniors studying finance. Mike was, according to the commonly used way of stereotyping people in college, a nerd. He studied, read books and academic papers, didn't posses good social skills. A nerd.
Tyler Grant was a college athlete, a wide receiver on their university's football team. and at a first glance he was very much a typical jock. He was muscular, his clothes always made that clear. He was popular with everyone, a bit cocky. Everyone knew that type.
But this wasn't the whole picture. For a football jock Tyler had surprisingly good grades. He spent at least some of his free time studying for exams and projects, he was active during classes, and he made an effort to get to know everyone who was present in the lecture hall alongside him.
And that meant Mike was... not frequently, but consistently approached by Tyler. The athlete usually exchanged a few words with him whenever the two bumped into each other.
And Mike was infuriated by this.
Because of course Tyler wasn't doing this because he was a genuinely nice person.
For sure he was doing this out of pity.
He probably laughed all day about Mike, that sad little nerd.
And all that pretending, which was definitely what Tyler was doing, made Mike fuckin' annoyed.
One day Mike was walking through downtown and he stumbled upon a thrift store. Lead by an impulsive thought he walked in and moved through countless racks and shelves. Then he saw it. A random golden chain, similar to the ones jocks like Tyler wore on a daily basis. Again driven by a strange impulse Mike picked it up.
"When you wear it, your word will be reality" A voice, belonging to some older man, whispered into Mike's ear. He quickly turned around but saw no one standing next to him. His eves went back to the chain. He had to have it.
So he bought it. What happened next was pure magic. The golden chain, when hanging form his neck, allowed Mike to alter reality. Which was insane. The chain's power was limited, but clearly visible and Mike was amazed.
He knew what he wanted to do with that power.
A week later Mike had to do a project for a class. The project required working in pairs and, what a coincidence, Tyler was sitting close to him and suggested they work together. Mike put on a fake slime, deep down sure that this was some new plot to make fun of him.
The next day they met in the university library to work on the project. As Tyler looked through some data on his laptop, Mike made sure the chain was under on his neck, hidden by his t-shirt and hoodie.
"You will treat everything I say as normal" Mike said. Nothing changed, Tyler just nodded after hearing these word and continued working. Mike smirked. Perfect.
"You will start behaving like a real jock. No more talking to me out of pity and then laughing at me behind my back. Be a real jock bro."
"Yeah, bruh" Tyler muttered to himself. His position shifted, his upper body more relaxed on the chair, his legs spread out. He swiftly removed his hoodie, revealing a white tank top.
"And let's not kid ourselves, deep down you know you are a dumb idiot. A jock like you will always end up with a brain that can only understand football plays." Mike grinned. He felt real good saying those words. Getting rid of academic competition, putting Tyler where he belonged.
"you callin' me a dumbass, fuckin' nerd?" Tyler stopped typing on his laptop. He looked at Mike, a dumb, cocky grin now clearly visible on his face. Moke could now see the arrogant dominance in his eyes.
"Yes, and you won't do anything about it, because you listen to everything I say, you dumb jock." Mike said straight into Tyler's face. The jock chuckled dumbly and flexed his arm. He put his hand on the bulging muscles and squeezed them.
"duuuuuh, dude" he drawled "wha' were we doin' even bruh? muh brain foggy dude..." he looked at his still opened laptop. "shit, nerd, what is that fuckin' nonsence!"
"I'll take care of that" Mike said as he closed Tyler's laptop. "You have other things to care about."
"fuck yeah i do, nerd!" Tyler barked at him. "Gotta get these guns pumped bruuuuh!" He flexed his arms again and laughed out loud, attracting attention of other people in the library.
"Okay, my jock, we gotta get you out of here" Mike stood up and waited for Tyler to do the same.
"oh fuck, nerd, we gotta get out of this fuckin' nerd central, am i right huhuhuhuhuh" He chuckled loudly as they left the library, Mike's hand on Tyler's biceps. After they were outside Tyler stopped for a moment, got his phone out and took a photo of himself flexing his arm.
"gotta keep the chicks on insta hot n' bothered, nerd" Mike smirked as he heard that. Oh yeah, his plan was going great.
Muscle Memory
The ultimate goal of a jock is to stop thinking.
A real jock knows what he was made for, designed for - lifting, drinking, playing football, spreading his seed, asserting his dominance. So he strives to get better at every one of these things until they are all natural parts of him.
A jock achieves his greatest form when he executes every action on instinct.
Well developed muscles are the jocks most important trait, and his muscle memory is an extension of that. He executes every task impulsively, instantly, and so had no need for any conscious thoughts to clutter his brain. After all, it has to fit all the football plays for his position, exercises for every important muscle group, his body count.
When he enters the gym his arms begin putting the plates on the bar by default.
When he's standing on the line of scrimmage his body gets into position in the blink of an eye.
When he enters the frat house he automatically grabs a beer.
When he sees a mirror he flexes his arms. He doesn't think about it, he just does.
People find bro speak to be annoying, maybe funny, a clear sign of a jock's low IQ. But that is not the case. The jock knows he doesn't need to remember the whole dictionary to beat Michigan or State on the field. So his speech is basic, because it doesn't have to be anything else.
"duh bro"
"huhuhuhuhuh what's up dude?"
"hell yeah bruh"
"you speakin' to me nerd?"
"gonna get some pussy t'night bro"
The jock's mind is simply laser focused on becoming a champion, on taking the trophy into his hands.
bro, ya gotta understand, am not here to, like, do any of that nerd shit, right bruh, huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh, am here to fuckin' play football dude! i aint got time for any thinkin' shit dude, gotta get fuckin' huge! what's yer pb on the bench, cause i gotta tell ya, am breaking 200 already bro! huhuhuhuhuh, duuuh dude, yeah bro
Script For A Jock
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Jock's mind was consumed with counting reps
seven, eight, nine
His arms moved steadily, dumbbells going up and down
up and down up and down up and down
After 12 reps, Jock throws the weights on the ground
gym is a temple, jocks put weights on the rack
Jock takes the dumbbells and puts them in their place
workout done, jock has fulfilled his purpose
...
Jack shook his head and grabbed his water bottle and phone. He then made his way out of the main weight area. The t-shirt he was wearing was clinging to his body after the grueling workout and he was eager to get it off of him and wash all that sweat off of his body.
Jack opened the door of the locker room and looked around, trying to remember where he left his stuff. He quickly remembered, 048, and started walking through the space filled with men in various state of undress.
As he walked he turned his head and looked at a mirror hanging on the wall--
...
Jock shows off his gainz
Jock looked straight into the mirror and flexes his arms. The huge biceps bulges under the t-shirt's sleeve. Jock notices a damp spot around his armpit
Jock is proud of his masculine scent
Jock is ripe and sweaty
Jock reports to Coach
Jock took his phone and lifted his arm to reveal his armpit, soaked with sweat. He then snapped a picture and sent it to Coach.
Jock enjoys being sweaty
...
Jock does not think, Jock follows the Script
No-Trade Clause
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This jock wanted to change gyms. Thought Coach wasn't doing a good enough job taking care of him.
So one day when the gym was closed he sneaked out.
Unfortunately for him he left his earbuds in.
A few minutes after he escaped the security protocols were activated.
His brain is now being fried, so that he won't hold a single independent thought anymore.
Only loyal to coach follow orders lift weights flex show off no thoughts just weights
He's gonna be ready in an hour.
Waking Up Huge and Jocked
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story reposed with a few minor changes, previous ver. were too "explicit"
Trevor slowly woke up, sitting on his bed and opening his eyes. He immediately felt that something was wrong, but he didn't know what. He slowly walked up to the bathroom, where the only mirror in his apartment was located. Every step felt weird, his body didn't feel normal.
When he finally got to the mirror his mouth opened in shock. Then memories from the day prior flooded his mind.
Trevor joined a gym. A fairly new one that opened in his neighborhood. He decided to do that to capitalize on the gym's heavy discounts that were meant to attract new clients. And it wasn't the end - right after entering the building and registering, he was gifted with a bunch of free stuff.
Included was a few pieces of gym gear, which was very handy to Trevor, who has not worked out regularly before and did not have stuff like that.
After he came back home in the evening, Trevor decided to try out the clothes he got. Included in these was a pair of Under Armour boxer briefs that he put on alongside shorts and a sleeveless shirt. He looked a bit funny, at least according to himself, but the vibe he was giving off was actually... cool. He looked like a proper gym bro, and that gave him a... warm feeling. Wait, he was getting hot after wearing all that gear just for a few minutes, which seemed unusual.
And suddenly, it began.
As the warmth spread across his body from his lower abdominal area he clearly saw his body slowly expand. His stomach muscles became visible, his pectorals now pushing against the shirt. Shoulders expanded, biceps growing closer in size to a football. Legs now the size of tree trunks, each muscle clearly visible.
Trevor just looked, in shock and horror, as his body transformed into that of a real gym bro. He desperately tried to take off the gym gear, and while he succeeded with the shirt and shorts, the UA boxers just stayed glued to his skin the whole time. Wait a minute, was his dick getting larger as well? Shit, were these tattoos on his body? Fuckin' hell!
As the transformation came to an end Trevor was hit with a sudden and powerful feeling of tiredness. He took a few steps towards his bedroom, then collapsed on his bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
And this is how he ended up here, standing in front of a mirror the next day, still with the body of a jock. After the initial shock of this not having been a dream Trevor quickly thought about the benefits of the change and started flexing his new, huge muscles.
A huge grin appeared on his face as he lifted his arms, putting them in a double biceps pose, and took in the view. He also got quite aroused by the whole experience and his now bigger bulge was clearly visible, straining against his Under Armour boxers.
He eagerly grabbed his member and started massaging it through the fabric. Afterwards he decided to go back to the gym right away. Maybe he would learn something more, maybe he would grow even more.
He quickly put on the clothes, his shorts going over the cum-stained boxers, and made his way to the gym. He didn't know what to expect, but he felt anticipation rise inside him with every step. Finally Trevor reached the building and entered the place that was the cause of his changes.
The moment he went through the door his brain slowed down to a halt. A thick, dense fog covered his mind, no thoughts now coming in or out. A dumb grin appeared on his face, and drool appeared on the corner of his mouth.
The gym's Owner walked up to Trevor, standing still in the middle of the reception area.
"Next one, great." He grinned slightly and looked into Trevor's eyes.
"State your position, meathead." The owner gave the order, but the newly created gym bro did nothing. The older man in turn rolled his eyes. "Of course, you're a rookie." He put his hand in his pocket and took out a pair of dog tags, which he dangled in front of Trevor's face for a moment. Trevor's eyes started following the tags almost instantly.
"You will come with me, meathead." The Owner said, and started walking towards his office, Trevor following behind him. When they reached the room, the Owner ordered the new meathead to sit down in front of his desk. He then turned the monitor towards Trevor and pushed a button on the keyboard.
A video showing both muscular dudes pumpin' iron and a hypnotic spiral started playing and the Owner started talking.
"You are a dumb meathead. The only thing you do is lift and train others to lift. You are as masculine as can get... oh, also... you're gay?"
"Yeah..." Trevor drawled. Droll was flowing down from his mouth.
"Nope, you're as straight as a guy can get." The Owner stated strongly. Trevor felt tingling around his butt, as his hole tightened and closed in, making sure nothing would enter it and that he would never think about his ass in terms of pleasure again.
"You do not think of anything not related to working out. Your life is the gym. You are my employee and obey my every order." The Owner stood in front of Trevor, between him and the screen. "You are Brute. You are 32AZ, you are a dumb meathead." He then took a step to the side, allowing Brute to watch the video to the end.
"State your position, meathead." Brute heard Boss say.
"Personal trainer bruh, liftin' and pushin' guys to become men bro"
"Correct, meathead."
"Huhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuh, yeah sir, huhuhuhuhuh" He did a mock salute, a dumb chuckle escaping his mouth.
"Now go, complete Routine 12, then come to the Reception to receive your schedule."
"Yes sir... bro huhuhuhuh."
"Good meathead. Now go."
Empty Eyes, Pumped Bis
You can support me on ko-fi.com/mrrharper
tw: slurs
inspired by @user211201
It started with his boyfriend suggesting he join a gym. So he did.
It went okay, he wasn't doing great, which was very annoying.
But slowly he started gaining some muscle mass.
Then he met JT.
He was a disgustingly straight gym bro. And yet he wanted to hang out with him. And it seemed to have an effect.
He suddenly started noticing gains. Big gains.
And JT turned out to be a cool dude. A real bro, but it just kinda felt good to be around him at the gym.
Other meatheads started commenting about the bromance he had going with JT, and he... actually enjoyed that thought. Yeah, JT is his bro.
Maybe even his best bro.
Huhuhuh, hell yeah JT's his best bruh. No one's better than his bro.
Wait, what? There's this guy... his boy... boyfriend? Nah man, can't be right, cause Jt's been talkin' about what real bros do. And he's a real bro...
duuuuuuuuuude huhuhuhuhuhuh
He felt his asshole tighten after a killer set on the bench. JT said real bros have their holes closed in and barely used, cause real bros don't get fucked. They do the fucking. A bro can't be anything but a top.
Wait, what's a top? A bro can only be one way, filling a hole. No other option. So he felt pride in his body conforming to the standards of a real bro. A hole programmed to not accept anything.
A guy came to the gym, some queer has been looking for him. JT got rid of the guy immediately.
He only needs JT, his best bro. They spend every hours liftin' and gettin' pumped and sweaty. Like real bros should.
Nothin' else matters.
Brain empty, just lift. Like JT says.
A sick pump on these guns is muuuuuuuch more important bruh.
huhuhuhuhuhuhuh fuck yeah dude
mrrharper Masterpost
what's up bros
to make this blog a bit more accessible, this is gonna be an index of all of my stories and other stuff connected with me, neatly divided into themes
also hey, i have a discord server for horny bros that y’all should join asap - here's the link
everything's under this pic of a hot stud
Jock TF
Todd goes to a gym / Academic requirements / A Son, Reformed / Muscles In Chains / The Rookie's Figuring It Out / Headphones In, Guns Out / Waiting For The Roommate / Mandatory PE Class / A Real Jock's Supposed to Be Dumb / Cocky And Proud, By Accident / Elevator Malfunction / Former Friend / There Are Always Jocks / Desperation In College /
Jock-focused
Under Armour Jock™ / Coach's Process of Developing a Jock / More Loyal, More American, More The Same / Muscle Memory / Inside A Jock's Mind / Script For A Jock / No-Trade Clause / Taming The Football Beast /
Cop/Soldier reprogramming
Programming Adjustment / Law, Order and Musk / Personal Muscle, Uniform Included / A Guard Programmed To Control And Obey / Summer Bootcamp / Army Surplus / Neighborhood Association / Another Cop For The Collection /
Gym Bro TF (and adjacent)
Gym Bro / Bro Advice / A Workout Break / This Is How You Recruit Gym Bros / Waking Up Huge And Jocked / Empty Eyes, Pumped Bis / The Grindset / Big Bro's Job / The Bro Zone Resort /
Inanimate TF
Not In The Exhibit Brochure /
NPC TF
Player Of The Month / Guarding The Base /
Other stuff
Discord - I run a discord server for other horny bros, come join us
Commissions - I am open for commissions. Want me to write you a story? Check the linked post for all the necessary details
#AMA - you can see all the questions I have answered from previous AMAs under this hashtag
Ko-fi page - you can support me and my work on ko-fi
The Grindset
You can support me on https://ko-fi.com/mrrharper
When Mike entered the gym he saw this absolute hunk of a man, a giant piece of muscle, standing next to the bench, looking straigth at the weights.
The hunk looked a bit weird, but Mike ignored it and started his workout.
After he finished the session he looked towards the bench, and the muscle bro was now crouching, still looking at the weights on the bar.
He watched for a minute and got actually concerned. This didn't seem right.
When he got closer he realized the man was murmuring something to himself.
get into the grindset
you're here to lift
only lifting matters
gotta lift weights
gotta lift more
gotta smash PBs
Mike became really confused. And concerned for the man.
"Hey dude, you're okay?" he put his hand on the hunk's shoulder.
And his brain stopped.
He slowly turned his head towards the weights and got into the same position as the other man.
Then he started talking. To get himself into The Grindset.
get into the grindset
His feet and shoes grew larger.
you're here to lift
His legs got thicker and longer, now the size of tree trunks.
only lifting matters
His stomach muscles got bigger and hardened, his core now able to sustain immense force.
gotta lift weights
His chest expanded massively, his pecs now giant slabs of muscle.
gotta lift more
His biceps and shoulders grew, now the size of footballs, his arms able to smash absolutely everything.
gotta smash PBs
you're a gym bro
you're a lifter
you're a muscle machine
go and lift, bruh
And with that Meathead and his best bro Brute stood up and started their daily lifting sesh, their minds filled only with thoughts of lifting weights and their meaty, muscular bodies expanding even more.
Cocky And Proud, By Accident
Greg's roommate Chris had just begun his 10 month stay in Japan as a part of a student exchange program. In the beginning Greg thought that maybe, just maybe, he would have their 2 bed dorm all to himself. Then he realized he would probably be living with a student from Japan. After all, Chris was taking part in a student exchange program.
But he didn't expect what actually happened. He was assigned a new roommate, who turned out to be Heath Richards, a jock from the football team. When Greg was informed of the administration's decision he just sighed. This was going to be a hard year.
From the moment Heath first entered Greg's room it was clear his new roommate was a textbook example of a college football bro. He was loud - screaming while watching TV, belching and burping, laughing with that dumb jock chuckle. His clothes were everywhere and he refused to pick them up no matter how often Greg would remind him. This also meant that his sweaty smell quickly filled the whole room and removing this stench seemed impossible.
Greg was stuck with a dumb football jock for a roommate and he hated every minute of it. But there was nothing he could do as there was no process to appeal the decision that put Heath in his room. He also didn't have the money to move out and rent a studio off campus. So he was stuck with Heath. And that musky, sweaty smell.
One day Greg woke up and while still groggy and half-asleep, he started looking for clothes to wear. He opened his drawer and took out the pair of boxer briefs from the top of the pile and put it on. He then moved to their small kitchen area to prepare himself some breakfast. As he mixed the oatmeal he felt as if Heath's smell was more noticeable than usual.
"broooooooo" He suddenly heard the jock's voice behind him "why you wearin' my Under Armour boxers dude?"
"What?" Greg looked down and he gasped as he realized that the underwear he was wearing was not his usual kind, but Heath's black Under Armour boxer briefs.
"Fuck, how the hell did these get into my drawer, dude?"
"dunno brah, just calm down bro" Heath just shrugged "ya can wear them dude if ya want, i don't care, i have like 20 more after signing that sweet deal" Greg was about to scream at the guy, demanding he finally take care of his clothes when a thought entered his mind. You enjoy wearing Under Armour. It was a foreign thought, almost as if someone else had planted it in Greg's mind. But it stayed there, and though he was still angry at Heath, the need to take off the boxers just disappeared.
"Ugh" he just groaned "you jocks are all the same" he muttered under his breath and finished making his oatmeal, which he then took back to his desk. He sat down and started eating. You enjoy the smell of sweat, especially after a workout. The feeling of disgust at Heath's stench disappeared instantly, replaced by a slight enjoyment of the salty smell.
Greg quickly ate his breakfast, then got ready for the day. He put on a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie, his ass still covered by Heath's UA boxer briefs. He saw the jock sitting on the couch on the other side of the room, wearing only a jockstrap, with his legs spread wide apart, looking at something on his phone. Greg rolled his eyes as he took his bag in his hand and walked up to the door.
"I hope I won't find any more of your clothes in my drawer, Heath" he barked at his roommate as he opened the door.
"yeah, yeah, calm down bruh" Heath drawled in response, then scratched his bulge. Greg sighed and left the room, ready to get through all the classes he had to attend today.
Greg was sitting on his third lecture of the day, still not the last, taking notes diligently. The professor went on and on, his charisma barely perceptible and he seemed to be the only person in the room who was still following what the older man was saying. Then, as the prof was looking at the computer, trying to change his presentations, a thought was implanted into Greg's mind. You have an IQ of 80 and don't care about academics.
He stopped taking notes and looked around. Fuck, how much longer was this lecture going to take? Greg shifted around in his seat, spreading his legs wider apart. The old dude leading the class resumed talking but he didn't really get what he was saying. It all sounded so boring.
An hour later, Greg was finally free of that old dude's ramblings. He looked at his phone and realized he still had one class left. Huhuh, nope, he was not going to suffer, not for one minute longer. And so he left the rest of his group and started walking towards the dorms. His brain needed time to relax after this mind numbing experience.
When he entered his dorm room, Heath was sitting on the couch, watching game tape on his laptop. Wait, how did he know it was game tape?
"ey dude, yer early bro" Heath commented, his eyes focused on the screen.
"Yeah..." Greg nodded, but then he didn't know what to say, he didn't have the words. You speak like a dumb jock.
"dude, lectures were so fuckin' boring bro, huhuhuh" Greg let out a dumb chuckle as he approached Heath and then sat down on the couch.
"duh bro, never got why ya bothered with all that academic bullshit bro, i see yer finally seeing how dumb all that shit is" Heath paused the video on his laptop and looked at Greg. "the only reason to stay in school is fuckin sports dude, ain't no other way to get to the NFL bro" He then furrowed his brow as he looked into Greg's eyes "you play ball dude?"
Greg was surprised by the question and as his brain was processing it, another thought appeared. You are a cornerback playing for the Atlanta Golden Eagles.
"yeah bruh huhuhuhuh, am a damn cornerback" Greg let out another dumb chuckle and Heath looked at him, suddenly very confused.
"shit, i gotta get ya to coach" He put the laptop away and stood up "follow me bruh"
Coach was not thrilled when he learned what happened to Greg. When Heath brought him to his office it took a while to get the necessary context out of the dumb jock, but eventually Coach was able to understand what had occured.
His supplements which turn all his players into strong and cocky football jocks had a weird quirk - it spread through his body and entered the jock's cum. And because Heath was one nasty jock, he got off into his boxers and didn't even wash them. so when Greg put on Heath's used boxers, some of the supplement got into his system and the his transformation began.
Coach was not thrilled, but he quickly , but he quickly decided to use this whole mishap to his advantage. He activated his connections, did some work himself and got himself a new player - cornerback Greg Geralt Evans. A few rounds of Coach's supplement and Geralt would be just as muscular as his best bro Heath, ready to get on the gridiron destroy any opposing team.
And Chris would have to find himself a new place to live after coming back form Japan.
Player Of The Month
You can support me at ko-fi.com/mrrharper
It did not take long.
Jake got a notification saying he'd been chosen as the Player of the Month from the server he's been playing on for months now. He was very excited about this as he's never got any in-game title like that before.
He clicked on the notification and scrolled through all the buzzwords to see what rewards he would be getting. Weirdly, there was no mention of any items, upgrades or other perks. Instead there was a button. "Brand new personalized experience".
Jack eagerly clicked the button, the only option avaliable to him. At first nothing happened and he just assumed the game was loading some new assests which would probably take some time.
Suddenly he felt some buzzing in his head, followed by a sharp pain and a feeling as if his headset was tightening around his head. He was paralyzed by this for a moment, his mind completely losing track of what was happening with his body as it was experiencing sudden sensory overload.
And then he was back in the game, but something was different. He was transported to Iron Gym, a locaton on the opposite side of the map from he was just a minute ago. He looked down and saw that his avatar had changed completely. He tried to access his character menu to see what had happened but he couldn't, so he walked up to a mirror.
In in he saw someone completely different. A young dude, clearly muscular, wearing a backwards cap and a pair of tight compression shorts. He looked like a gym bro! Not only that, he looked pretty similiar to the NPCs that populated this area of the game world, which Jake found very strange. Something went wrong here.
Wait, where was his headset? Jake put his hands on his face, but couldn't find the bulky gear he had to wear to play. What was going on?
A player came up to Jake and chose the option to initiate the conversation.
Jake #27AD0019 turned around to face Player#A97F4. His eyes flashed red, showing he was now in interaction mode.
"ey dude, ya got any issue with me bruh?" he asked, an arrogant streak in his voice. He then waited for the player to choose a response form the dialog tree, entering one of his idling animations, moving slightly from left to right and flexing his bare chest.
"Damn, that's a new one, didn't see this character before here" the player muttered to himself, clearly intrigued by the sudden appearance of a new NPC. He then chose a response.
"No, I just noticed you're a regular here and you seem to be doing pretty good, so I wanted to say hi."
#27AD0019's changed his attitude from annoyed and arrogant to proud and cocky. A new animation was triggered by the player's response, making him flash his teeth in a cocky smile, then flex his arms in a double biceps pose.
"hell yeah bruh, am the top dawg here dude"
The player focused on the NPC's muscular arms, while the character kept them in a flexed position up in the air. Player#A97F4 was starting to enjoy the conversation and knew exactly what dialog option he would choose.
"I see, you clearly work out every day. Your form is very impressive."
This prompted another few animations, in which #27AD0019 flexed his arms, chest and legs, showing off his muscles to the player.
"fuck yeah bro! i lift, like, all day dude, gotta work for guns like this bro huhuhuhuhuhuh" He let out a low, dumb laugh. The player grinned as he saw one of the potential responses he had avaliable.
"So not much happening in your life except the gym, right?"
A few calculations happened int he background that determined whether the NPC would respond positively or with anger. The result then took into account the character's intelligence statistic - 3/10. This gave the player the exact result he was looking for.
"huhuhuh yeah dude, am a real gym bro dude, ain't nothin' more important that liftin' bro. head empty, just gains huhuhuhuhuh" The answer triggered another loop of flexing animations.
#27AD0019 was going to be a very popular NPC.
Guarding The Base
Craig paused the game and opened the inventory. He had just finished a mission and wanted to organize all the new gear he had gained. He changed his weapon for a more powerful one and threw out the basic gun he had with him since the very beginning of this campaign. He then changed his gear for one with better stats, giving him more HP and allowing his character to withstand more damage from certain weapons.
After he was done with that, Craig used some of the experience points he'd gathered to customize these items, choosing different colors and adding two more badges to his profile. He took a moment to look at the avatar standing proudly with his gun in the middle of the screen after all these changes. Damn, he looked badass, Craig thought. He didn't expect to become this invested in this game, but just as his friend said, he was hooked form the start.
He clicked the escape button to exit the inventory view and continue the campaign, but the game didn't react. Craig didn't panic though, his gaming rig didn't have the newest or the most powerful components, so he was used to his computer needing a bit more time to process certain commands.
Then he noticed his helmet turned dark green. Craig leaned in to look closer at what happened, expecting this to be a momentary visual glitch. But it wasn't. And this wasn't even his helmet in a different color, it was a compleletly different one. That annoyed him a little bit, the game just glitched and robbed him of one of his items! He clicked on it to try and get back to his custom helmet but the game didn't react. Of course, it was still processing the command to exit the inventory. Craig groaned loudly. He needed to invest in a better PC - this helmet had such good stats! And it looked cool!
He breathed in, then breathed out. This was just a helmet, noting major that would hinder his progress-- his tactical vest glitched and turned into a different item. What the hell? Craig looked at his compter screen with disbelief. Another part of his character's gear just changed into somethign completely different. He clicked on his avatar to try to revert that change but again, the game did not react.
And it only got worse. One by one, elements of his character's equipment changed from his custom ones into a set of dark green tactical gear he did not recognize, which was weird as he spent a lot of time in the game's item shop. He was absolutely horrified by this sight. After just a minute or two his character was unrecognizable. Gone was his badass soldier, and in his place Craig saw a heavily armed police officer. And it seemed like his avatar was now a bit more muscular?
His screen flashed suddenly and Craig was surrounded by white light. He could not see anything beyond this blank void. He tried blinking quickly but this apparent visual phenomenon did not subside. His eyes were betraying him.
He blinked once more and the bright light disappeared, replaced with a view of a different location form the game than the one where he finished his last mission. Then something dawned on him. He wasn't looking at a screen, he was inside the game! He turned his head and instead of his room he saw the game world turn around him. What was happening? It seemed his mind was playing with him.
Just as Craig began to comprehend what had just happened to him, his body started moving involountarily. He turned towards a path leading to where he was standing and he could now see that he stood next to an entrance to some sort of hidden base. Hidden base? Oh, right, he was transported to Part II of the campaign, he remembered walking alongside this road. Entering the base tiggered a cutscene that led to the player unlocking a few important side quests. Why did the game put him here and why did it seem like he was transported into the game itself?
When Craig tried to turn his head he realized he couldn't. His body was now locked in his current position, holding his gun in both hands in front of him, ready to point it at any opponent in the blink of an eye. He was stuck in some sort of loop, first leaning to the side, then straightning out and checking his gun, then leaning slightly to the side again, and so on.
Suddenly, he saw movement. He couldn't react physically in any way so he just watched as a dark dot appeared on the horizon, then got closer and turned into a soldier running towards the entrance of the base. When he saw the entire figure he realized, based on the look of the soldier's gear, that he was looking at a player. He tried to say something to him but he couldn't. And then the player got really close and Craig felt a weird sting inside his head.
The player came even closer and #GRD0933F automatically moved to block him in his way, initiating a preplanned conversation.
"Stop or I'll shoot" the NPC barked in his low, growling voice. The player stood silent for a moment, giving himself a moment to choose one of a few possible responses.
"I have orders from Agent Dark Wolf" the player said, his avatar standing idly as #GRD0933F replayed his cutscene amination in a loop, his gun pointed at the player.
"Why should I believe you?" was the NPC's response. The player didn't choose to continue the conversation. Instead he clicked on an option to show the NPC an item from an earlier part of the game. The guard switched to another animation, putting down his gun and stepping aside to his previous position.
"Enter now, soldier" #GRD0933F showed the player to move along with his gun and both caracters left coversation mode. The player walked into the base and the NPC was back in his idling loop. Leaning to the side, then straightning out and checking his gun, then leaning slightly to the side again. As a very minor character his programming was very bare bones. He did not have many speaking lines, other than the short conversation with the player and a few grunts. He had only a few animaton loops avaliable to him, the most he could do was to flex his arm if the player chose the most friendly dialog options. No congitive capacity was left for the guard, and thus no real thought crossed his mind as he stood like a statue, making sure the secret base was secure.
Another player came up to the guard NPC, triggering the cutscene.
"Stop or I'll shoot" the NPC barked in his low, growling voice. The player stood silent for a moment, giving himself a moment to choose one of a few possible responses.
Desperation In College
Mike needed to change his life. With his third year of college beginning, he felt like he was wasting his valuable time on Earth. No friends, no real hobbies, no plan for the future. He was passing classes and progressing through his degree thanks to inertia alone.
So it was no surprise that when he saw a bizarre ad online for a pair of "life changing" underwear, he bought it instantly. 24 hours later a package arrived and he eagerly opened it. Inside he saw a jockstrap with the words Under Armour clearly visible. For a moment he doubted what he read on the advertisement - it was only a pair of underwear, and a type he never bought or wore himself. But he shrugged these doubts off, saying to himself that it wouldn't hurt trying them on.
For the next two days he wore only the UA jockstrap. It took a moment getting used to being so exposed underneath his pants, but... it was fine after a while. As the second full day was coming to an end Mike noted that his life has not yet experienced a "dramatic, 180 degrees turn you need to experience". But it was still a decent pair of underwear.
It was dark outside and he contemplated going to bed, but realized he hadn't jerked off in a while, and thus had some pent up horny energy within him. He sat down on his bed and leaned against the wall. Then he started massaging his member through the jockstrap with his left hand and looking for his phone with his right. But before he did, he felt a weird sensation around his bulge. As his cock got harder, the material around it began moving and after just a few seconds it looked like Mike's jockstrap was rubbing itself against his dick, jacking him off. The waves of pleasure that hit Mike immediately after, completely overwhelming him.
The jockstrap sped up its movements and Mike closed his eyes, experiencing pure bliss. While his senses were on the verge of shutting down he did not see his whole body quickly inflating, bulk appearing everywhere. His arms and legs got thicker, his pecs turned into meaty pillows, his stomach muscles appeared underneath them, veins popped out on his shoulders and neck.
Mike's hand instinctively moved towards his bulge and he began helping his seemingly sentient jockstrap in massaging his cock, which throughout this transformation got at least 3 inches longer.
With this much stimulation it didn't take long before Mike experienced the most intense orgasm of his life, cum covering his dick, which was tightly enclosed by the jockstrap. He slowly stood up, his mind mostly blank. He went into the bathroom and the moment he saw himself in the mirror, a cocky grin appeared on his face and he began flexing his newly acquired muscles.
The thing was, for him they were not "newly acquired" because Mike no longer existed. In his place was MJ, vice president of the Alpha Psi Delta fraternity, known by everyone on campus. He was a star receiver on the football team who never showed up to class. Instead, he spent time banging as many chicks as he could in empty rooms. Then at night, he had his ass pounded by a few of his frat bros, of course after proudly saying the phrase "no homo", which was then followed by some aggressive anal sex. He was dumb as a pile of rocks, frequently violent, arrogant and crude, a cocky grin always on his face.
He was exactly the same as all of his bros, basically a copy of every other jock on campus. And he absolutely loved it.
There Are Always Jocks
Many people wonder - how is it that there are always at least a few dumb and muscular douchebags in every college class. Common sense would suggest that they never had the chance to get into these prestigious institutions. And that would be a correct assumption. Because these meathead jocks don't come to university. They are created by them.
Take Chris for example. He was a boring history major like countless others. He studied well, didn't party much, had only a few friends. The Dean's Office decided it was one nerd too many.
One day after class he was taken by two wrestler bros to the Athletics Department building where a special football helmet was put on his head. Fifteen minutes later Chris' brain was fried, no memory of studying history left in his head.
Another fifteen minutes pass by and Chris is now CJ, a cocky douchebag, fucking every hole he encounters and spending most of his life working out.
Then a quick round of enhancement drugs provided by the football coach and the university has just gained another jock bro.
Next time he shows up to class he'll do everything but study. Which mostly means flexing his bulky muscles. He doesn't care about anything else, the school will take care of his GPA for him. His only role is to be an arrogant douchebag.
Masked Muscle
“Okay, now put it on” Chris threw the balaclava and the black t-shirt towards his boyfriend Jake, who was sitting on their bed.
“You’re sure about this?” He was clearly not sold on the idea of role play in the bedroom, but he agreed to do it anyway. He was surprised when Chris approached him earlier that day and asked if he’d be willing to dress up as a Russian thug because it really turned him on. But he decided to play along. And now Chris was standing next to him, a shit-eating grin on his face. He was enjoying himself already.
He watched as Jake took off his hoodie and tank top, then put on the t-shirt and face mask. Jake had a slim build, with muscles visible but not bulky, so the large t-shirt was looking kinda baggy on him.
"You sure you bought the right one? This looks like a skirt on me." Jake commented, but Chris wasn't really listening.
"Everything's fine, don't worry about it." He shrugged off his boyfriend's comments and waited for him to put on the balaclava. When he did he took a step closer.
"You look great, babe" He said, and saw Jake's eyebrows rise a bit, but he saw a glimpse of a smile under the face mask.
Then the fun started.
Chris took a step backward, as he saw that the process was beginning. Jake suddenly stopped moving, now standing still, and all his muscles started expanding. His shoulders and chest quickly filled out thew t-shirt, which now hugged his upper body tightly. His arms turned form sticks to beefy guns, with bulky biceps covered in veins. His slim stomach gets covered in muscle, same with his legs that turned into tree trunks.
The entire transformation lasted only a minute or so, and after was done Jake looked at Chris confused.
"Chris... Chris, babe, what... what happened?" He asked, his voice unsteady and anxious.
"Nothing you have to worry about, Jake. I'm just making sure you're prepared for your 'role play' later" He still has a smug smirk on his face, because he knew what was coming next.
Jake was hit with a sudden headache. A painful feeling, as if his brain was squeezed. He groaned and leaned against the wall, hoping it would pass quickly.
"Holy shit... uuuugh... blyat" he murmured to himself "Wait... blyat? Vat? I no speak... Nyet, vat is happen? Chris, vat is happen to me?"
Jake, now speaking with a heavy and thick Russian accent, turned towards Chris, his expression quickly shifting from surprise to aggression. But Chris didn't even flinch, he was in control of the situation the entire time.
"Stop whining, Sasha. You're not here to complain, you're here to obey!" When he called him 'Sasha', Jake's eyes glazed over for a moment and he froze. A few seconds later he was back, but it was not Jake.
"Da, boss. Sasha here to work and make dirty job for boss" He stood straight, almost like a soldier, and puffed out his chest, clearly wanting to show off his muscles. Chris was in heaven. He took a step closer.
"Yes, my loyal brute. You will do exactly as I say, without hesitation."
"Da, no hesitation, nyet. Only strong and obey you, boss" Sasha's voice was deeper that Jake's, he grunted more and was clearly struggling with English vocabulary.
"Oh yeah" Chris growled as he stood inches from Sasha, hunger in his eyes. "Flex for me, brute"
"Da, boss" Sasha nodded and lifted his arms into a double biceps pose. His muscles ballooned, with biceps the size of footballs.
"I strong muscle, boss use Sasha strong muscle" The Russian grunted as he flexed.
"Oh, I will use them, don't you worry" Chris drawled in response, ready to play.
Hey lads and TF lovers, new to the game, i want to get more TF writing practice
Send over requests you'd like to see or hot ideas. Most things TF. Adult humans, monsters, magical, scientific, inanimate, whatever your poison is, im willing to try/consider it. Might be a bit clumbsy starting out but quality will increase as i write more. Sometimes might end up doing a drawing either. Keep em coming. Nice to meet you all