Pothead - Tumblr Posts
Everyday <3
Credit to @viralsmorphs for this awesome photomanipulation. Please go to his blog for more great muscle morphs. He really does high quality stuff
-------------------------------------------------------------------
Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/omnitf
Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/omnikitsune
(Please join my Patreon for more unique stories in muscle, hypnosis, and other areas. It’s very affordable, and I could really use the money. For $3.00 a month, you get exclusive content that’s not seen anywhere else online. Join my team of supporters and help me to become a full time writer, so I can bring you guys more fun content to enjoy, please. Thank you!)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A casual note. Tumblr deemed the reblog I initially captioned for this story as inappropriate and adult. They still haven’t told me why/how they reached that conclusion, other than to look to the guidelines. I have asked in a reply to the email from the team responsible, so I can get specifics on the ruling (and thus avoid another offense). I still haven’t gotten a reply from them back yet. I’m not sure if they’re going to give me one.
So, I’m going to use another image instead to get my story out and modify one or two minor pieces of imagery as a result of the different image. The original post will stay for now, but I will eventually delete it after Tumblr gets back to me. If they don’t, I am going to be very pissed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Pothead
You pissed off the wrong gamer, Teabagger.
Nick chuckled as his avatar squatted repeatedly over his latest kill.
Whatever, pothead. Don’t get salty, just because I’m the smarter player.
The response was witty, stinging, a perfect way to end a perfect match after a sore loser tried to nose in on him and his record. In the digital battlefield, it didn’t matter how strong or fast you were. What mattered was knowledge, cunning, and strategy. Here, he could be merciless if he wished without consequence. No bullies to beat on him to nurse their bruising egos and insecurities. No catty popular girls to mock him for being who he chose to be. In this place, at this time, he was the alpha. He ruled the roost. And he would make sure that others knew it.
Or so he’d thought at the time.
The changes started small at first. A few flickers on the screen, a few angry comments, and the beginnings of what he knew would become a great rivalry. He shot his opponent and followed his ritual. When his opponent shot him, the retort came in the chat.
Who’s the pothead now, bro?
It was laughable, really. And soon it became a sort of a dance. Nick couldn’t help but laugh at the language that flowed over the chat whenever he took out another player.
#^$*ing Teabagger, man!
Bro, come on!
Just got #&$*ed by the Teabagger. Talk about necrophilia. Creep.
Hacks. I call hacks!
He scratched his chest that night. It was sore from the gym time with his new personal trainer. Pushups were no joke. It was a wonder his arms were still working well enough to play, but they were.
“Sucks to be you,” he’d said, then smiled and kept going.
-------------------------------------------------
“Keep going. You’re doing great.” The month had flown by, and Nick was surprised at just how much better he felt as he pushed against the floor. His arms still strained with the rest of his body, and his heart raced, but it was easier, and the praise and support was surprisingly enjoyable after all the years of abuse he’d faced in his younger days. “You must be keeping up with those home exercises I gave you.”
Nick smiled. “Yeah, I am.”
“Feels good to just focus on the body sometimes, doesn’t it?”
“Whoa there, partner. Let’s not be too hasty.”
The man chuckled. “You’ll get it eventually. Come on. Time to work that core.”
---------------------------------------------------
Nick smirked as the screen flickered with another message:
Teabag or D-bag?
Totally both.
Yes.
Definite yes.
Behold, the two parts of the whole.
Gonna put a hole through his head any minute now.
Nick rolled his eyes and swiftly typed into the message board.
In your dreams, @ M3ath3ad. Hope you’re ready to eat your words.
By the time the match ended, he’d earned MVP. His rival had ranked top on the other team and even hosted the match.
Hope you’re having fun, Teabagger.
Nick smirked.
You bet. Where’ve you been?
A smirking emoji appeared on the screen, followed by:
Taking a little time off. You know what they say. A watched pot never boils.
The hell’s that supposed to mean?
He never got an answer.
------------------------------------------
“It’s boiling in here. Why’s the heat have to be so damned high?”
The trainer chuckled. “Not the heat. It’s you. I told you I’d work you hard, didn’t I?”
“No way it’s just me.” Nick grunted as he pushed through the end of another set with the bench press.
“Maybe you should wear something a little less concealing next time, then. It wouldn’t hurt you to use a tank top, you know.”
“Not really my style.”
The trainer shrugged. “Styles change. So do bodies. Yours might benefit from a little change. Show off some skin, bro.”
“Bro?”
“Figure of speech. Besides, you’d be surprised how addicting it can be, once you start using it.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
The trainer sighed. “In one ear and out the other....”
---------------------------------------------
In one ear and out the other, ‘bro.’ Nick typed victoriously as he finished yet another headshot in M3ath3ad’s avatar.
Dude, not cool.
Really, man?
Why are we still putting up with this asshole?
Because I’m an actual challenge?
The chat was silent for a while.
Everyone’s thinking it. I’m just saying it. ... “Damn it, I hate it when he’s right.”
Bold of you to think he’s a he.
Nick chuckled. Let me stop you right there. I’m totally a he. He leaned against the wall and stretched from his bed. Much though he hated to admit it, his trainer was right. He felt better with less on.
...
Less on.
...
Less on.
The screen flickered. A bout of dizziness struck. “What...?”
The countdown started for the next round. The screen flickered again as the map loaded.
Time to teach you a lesson, Teabagger.
It was Rival. And once again, he was playing host.
Less talk, more action.
The smirk appeared on the chat again, the herald to their ritual of tit for tat. The match would feel wrong without it at this point.
Simmer down, Pothead. Don’t want you to boil before I school you.
Ooh, burrrrrrrrn! Brawn-E typed.
Dem’s fightin’ words! Mu$cl3Mann added.
This is gonna be good! Br4h-n said.
The timer counted down. The match began. The dance began anew.
------------------------------------------
“About time you took my advice.”
Nick’s abs burned as he thrust forward on the chest press. The weight dug into his core and back with every curl. “Shut up,” he grunted.
“You’ve carved a pretty good figure, actually,” the trainer continued heedlessly. “You take well to workouts.”
Nick shrugged. “Just part of the day. I just do it.”
“Without thinking?” The trainer smirked.
“Don’t push me, ‘bro.’“
“Isn’t that why you hired me in the first place, ‘bro?’“
Nick grit his teeth. “All right, you got me.”
The trainer smiled. “Good. Now let’s see what else we can get.”
----------------------------------------
Lucky shot, bro. Don’t get used to it.
Nick frowned as he glared at the message box. Emoji after emoji poured in. Some shocked, others cheering, others popping streamers and so forth.
Ding-dong, the witch is dead!
Nick’s chest huffed in frustration as the kill cam replayed his death. A sniper had just barely managed to get a head shot off a corner of an exposed piece of wall.Two straps perked against his chest as the cotton brushed gently over his pecs. He scratched a pec, then adjusted his crotch. All the work at the gym had upped his metabolism, and with it his testosterone levels. Increased aggression was only natural.
“Never again, bro,” he muttered darkly. “Never again.”
------------------------------------------
“Looking good there, stud,” Nick’s trainer complimented.
Nick thrust himself into his work as sweat streamed down his face, neck, and chest. He walked with a broader step now to keep from putting too much pressure on his crotch. Clothes felt tighter than they had been before, and others had begun to notice his changes. It was nice to receive such gratification, but frustrating to lose it in the one place that had mattered to him for so many years.
So, he did what came naturally. He took it out on the weights.
“Bad time?”
“Don’t wanna think about it,” Nick snapped back.
His trainer shrugged. “Okay, then don’t. Focus on your body. Focus on the weights. Let’s break that plateau today.”
Nick nodded. “That’s not all I’m gonna break,” he growled.
---------------------------------------
That night was a slaughterfest.
Damn, bro. Someone’s steamed.
Teabagger’s bringing it!
%*#&!
Nick sneered as he took out each of his enemies and initiated the same ritual. “That’s right. Nobody talks $^&* about me and gets away with it. I’m a one-man army.” He crept into a door and laid a claymore, then scratched his crotch. “You ain’t got the balls.” He chuckled as he camped in a corner by the stairwell and waited. The claymore went off, followed shortly by several kill shots to the torso as he took out the raiding party. Exultation surged. “Fuck yeah,” he growled. A predatory pleasure ran through him as he chuckled. “Fuck, yeah.”
-------------------------------------------
Nick swaggered confidently into the gym. His grin was wide, his shorts tight in all the right places, and his tank top holding against his torso in just the right way to show off the burgeoning muscle that now surged with the pump of his jog to the gym.
“Someone’s smug today.”
Nick grinned. “Got a lot to be smug about.”
“That you do, Nick. That, you do. Ready for your next session?”
“More than ready.”
“Then let’s go, bro.”
“Can hardly wait, bro.” Nick grinned.
“You really do love arm day, don’t you?”
“What can I say? It’s fun to flex.”
The trainer chuckled. “Yeah, bro, it sure is. Ready to get in the zone?”
“Huhuh. You know it.”
“That’s the spirit.”
---------------------------------------
The screen flickered again over Nick’s computer display. The chat room lit up, and he smiled as he strode confidently to his bed in his sweats and XXL shirt. His biceps strained against the fabric, and he sneered at the feel of the pressure. He could conquer in and out of virtual reality now.
Guess who’s back, &$*#ers.
Oh, snap, it’s Teabag!
Bro, where you been?
Nick chuckled. Life comes first, man. You know that. I had some training meetings I had to attend. Not exactly a lie. He’d let them draw their own conclusions. But now I’m back, and I’m ready to pwn your asses.
Big talk. Can you back it up, bro?
You’ll find out soon enough.
Game cued up. Rival hosted again.
Hey, can you guys talk after this match? Got something I need to say.
Nick raised his brow. Not about to complain, are you?
Nah. I’ll leave that to you, ‘bro.’
Are you mocking me?
Would I do that, pothead?
You’re gonna get it.
Bring it on, dumbass.
Nick grit his teeth. Oh, it’s on.
The match was glorious. Nick sneered as he watched his final kill tab play across the screen. They had reaped the whirlwind. And he was fierce, indeed.
Remember your promise. No complaints, he typed quickly.
The familiar smirking emoji passed over the window with a flicker, and Nick smiled. The repartee was sure to follow.
No complaints. Just concern. I think a few of us are getting a little too hotheaded. It’s time to let off some steam, bros.
Nick’s hands dropped to his sides. He gaped at the screen as his mouth hung open ever so slightly.
Cameras on, please.
A window opened in the screen, divided into a series of boxes. Second by second, they flicked on to reveal another muscled man in underwear staring ahead. Then another, and another in varying states of dress. The message box stayed open above the windows and flickered with another message.
Let’s go, potheads. Time to pour.
The men stood as one. Their cameras adjusted. And then they began to speak. Nick couldn’t hear the words, but he knew them well, and he knew that they knew them, just as he stood with them. Their voices were one, one voice, his voice, their voice, one voice. They were one.
“I’m a dumbass meathead, tall and proud. Growing my muscle is what I’m about. More and more, my meat drives me about, tips me over, and dumbs me down as weights drop in and smarts drip out.”
Good Meatheads.
Nick did what came naturally, having finished the ritual. He righted himself, raised an arm, and flexed his bicep into his handle. His abs tightened and took on more definition as he breathed deep, then did as the song suggested and let his meat drive. “Huhuhuhuhuh....” His body moved on its own as his hands navigated the options in the video game and adjusted his user name. Then he typed into the chatroom as he stared into the camera with dull glassy eyes.
Meatbag reporting in.
The teabagger was no more.
🍁🍃🔥Marijuana Use Only™ -Young N' Reckless♻️-
