jockifyme

[jockifyme]

Recycling

I watched as the next employee entered the chamber. He appeared a bit confused, probably having expected a conference room rather than the dark space with mirrored walls. By the look of it, he had no idea that any one of the panes were one-sided, hesitantly fidgeting with his tie as he announced his presence with a timid “Hello?”

I leaned into the microphone, “Good afternoon.” The nervous boy’s eyes dashed around the room, trying to identify the person speaking to him. His physical characteristics and mannerisms resembled a mouse, small and skittish.

“Am I supposed to be here?” he eventually replied, choosing the speaker above my viewpoint as his receptor.

“Yes, this is the meeting to discuss your annual review.” I replied. “You're in the right place, Mr. Donson. Would you like for me to refer to you by your given name?”

The boy shuffled anxiously, “Drayton is fine.”

Habitually, I continued. “I’m sure you're wondering why your annual review this year is different from those in the past. Don’t worry Drayton, you are still one of our top performers, and your review reflects your incredible performance.”

Feeling a delicate surge of confidence, Drayton let a smile sneak up onto his lips. Being clean shaven and still holding some baby fat, it frankly was quite endearing. Cute even.

“As you are already aware, our company has been having some financial issues recently. And as a high-ranking official in our accounting department, I am sure that you are more than knowledgeable on the details of this subject.”

Drayton’s youthful glee faltered for a moment.

“Unfortunately, we do not have the funds available to keep you on board and give you a raise,” I started. “The company would like to offer you a deal: in exchange for accepting a substandard review and a 19% decrease in pay, we will offer you external benefits.”

Shock emerged from Drayton’s face, “What benefits would be worth a fifth of my paycheck?”

“Unfortunately I am liable to disclose that information,” I robotically replied. “You can either accept or tender a resignation.” 

Drayton took a moment to decide, just like all the other employees typically did. But eventually, they all convinced themselves that losing employment at the company was the worse of the two options.

“I’ll accept.”

“Stand by.” I followed procedure, locking the exits and airways into the chamber. Once that was done, I began flipping the switches. Steam mechanisms, followed by audio machines, followed by visual projectors. I did not even pay attention to the squabbling accountant, panicking as his chamber was bombarded with smoke, abrasive phonics, and commands that flashed against the walls and reflected into every corner of the room. 

Thanks to the padding in my control room, I absorbed none of it. I simply ignored Drayton’s screams and opened my laptop, getting back to my own duties as the process did its work. With all the vapors, I typically could not witness any of the changes that happened anyway–which also meant I could never attest to possible allegations if our company did ever come under some sort of legal fire in the future. But sometimes I did spot little things, flashes of commands that were being ingrained into the employee. MASCULINE, TRADITIONAL, ATTENTIVE. The small letters would pulse by an instant, although they were meaningless to me within my enclosed accommodations.

Eventually, my timer went off, and I closed out of the procedure. I exited the program and flipped the switches back over, shutting off all stimulatory mechanisms. It took a moment for the smoke to clear, presenting me with a new version of the employee. More muscular, more masculine, and more virile.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Donovan?”

"It’s Donson, boss." The man stood tall, stoic. His voice now held much more depth and presence.

"It’s Donovan, Drake Donovan,” I affirmed. “That's what's in our system."

I watched the man process this, the command’s installation literally visible behind his now less-intelligent eyes. 

“I see you were able to find part of your new uniform already.” I was referring to the briefs and sweatshorts that were covering the lower half of Drake’s much larger body. The remnants of the former business casual outfit were scattered across his large feet. “The closet behind you will contain the rest of your attire. Company fitness uniforms and approved footwear that will better fit your size and new position.”

“New position?” Drake inquired, his question curious rather than interrogative.

“The company has decided to reassign you as a security liaison, seeing as that will be a better fit for your paygrade.” I typed away at my reviewal report, adding in details of Drake’s benefits package. Increase in height, dramatic increase in musculature, increase in hair, increase in virility…

To save money, the company liked to recycle its employees. We would bring in fresh graduates to run our corporate operations, and then once they hit their pay ceiling, recycled them into more manual, less intellectually-driven roles. Naturally, no one ever filed any complaints about this procedure as no one realized it existed. And even if they did, they would no longer have the brains capable to file such a complaint.

“Sounds good, boss,” Drake replied, even though I had already known what his answer was going to be. With his dominating size and brutish stature, Drake had been remodeled into the standard male form that we needed for our team. And with this mind simplified to only focusing on traditional objectives (upholding masculinity, working out, fulfilling his role), Drake was now bound to solely focus on the company’s objectives. Thanks to the recycling process, our company would keep the profits high and the employee turnover low. And now, Drake would remain entertained without the extra money by merely following orders and enjoying the simpler things in life, like flexing his muscles.

[jockifyme]

Country Charm

1500 Follower Special here! Thank you all yet again for following and reading :)

Probably for the best not to vacation at a ranch unless you want to learn what a real man is.

My word, this turned into my longest story yet! I hope you enjoy- Given the close finish do keep an eye out for the second place story coming soon! -Occam

The Old Red River Ranch had sent Louis coupons for an all inclusive vacation. Obviously he found the idea immediately shady and dubious, but checking reviews online it looks like the place is legit. He holds onto a healthy suspicion that the offer remains too good to be true but starts packing up to head out nevertheless. After what feels like no time at all he’s headed west to get some rest and relaxation at the Old Triple R.

Arriving at the ranch proper, Louis does not make it far at all before his expectations are dashed. None of the photos or information in his little pamphlet suggested that he would be working but as he rode a shuttle in he passed large advertisements boasting of the opportunity for visitors to labor for such a high caliber ranch as the Triple R. It’s not like he was expecting a spa, but dude ranches don’t typically have you herding cattle right?

Louis is crestfallen as he is dropped off on the dusty road with his luggage. The shuttle driver tips his hat and says, “Be back in a week aye?” and promptly speeds back the way he came. Louis stares off dumbfounded at the trail of dust in his wake, that can’t be right can it? He would’ve sworn it was only three or four days, really he should know eh. Louis is interrupted before he is really able to interrogate his memory by a large hand patting his back.

“Hey there partner, you must be Louie.” Louis catches himself before he falls over and struggles to hide the fear in his eyes by plastering a tight-lipped smile on. Looking to see his assailant he finds a shockingly large man, at least a foot and a half taller than himself and a chest wide and hairy enough that Louis can’t help but think of the livestock the man must help rear. He opens his mouth to say something though his mind bombards him with too many options to spit out. The cowboy throws out a hand to shake which, nothing if not a gentleman, Louis cannot help but meet with his own.

Clearly not from the South, Louis is not at all expecting his hand to be trapped in an iron grip. His eyes widen as he sees the tendons in the man’s arm tense to enact this pain unto him, his eyes glistening above a perpetual grin, “Names Rusty, happy to have ya here Louie.” In response Louis struggles to put any power into his own grip before sheepishly replying, “It’s uh Louis actually.” Rusty lets loose a hearty laugh and slams his meaty palm into Louis’ back once more, “Hah sorry ‘bout that bud. Trust I’ll get it right next time. How ‘bout we get you inside there?”

Without waiting for a response Rusty hoists up Louis’ luggage and breaks for the ranch house at the end of a long dirt path. Louis watches him run off, unable to overlook how powerful his ass and thighs are in his tight jeans. He sighs before bouncing on his backpack and slowly following after, reconsidering if this experience is even worth suffering through for free. First things first though, he’ll need to get his stuff back from the oaf that just made off with it. 

Dragging himself to the front door Louis starts to knock before it is wrenched open by who else but the apparent welcome committee of one, Rusty who cheerily shouts, “You ready to get yer hands dirty bud!” Louis opens his mouth to say any of the litany of excuses to why he must leave right now, though seeing the excitement in Rusty’s eyes he just opts for the truth, clearing his throat before starting, “So sorry Rusty but, um, I was kind of not expecting to y’know, do manual labor on my vacation, so I think if it’s alright with you I-”

Rusty puts both his hands on Louis’ shoulders, interrupting him as the weight of his arms send an unmissable blush across his face. The joy in Rusty’s expression slightly dissipates, though he tries to keep it light, “Oh no worries there, lotta visitors ain’t about livin’ that cowboy life. I’m sure you’ll still find sumthin’ worthwhile to do around here!” Louis does not feel reassured standing in the gaze of this man, though seeing the light in him lessen he does feel a little guilty. He quickly shakes it off though, why was this bull of a man expecting him to chip in at all! He’s five feet and change and could probably not lift 100 pounds, why on earth would anyone ever expect him to perform any kind of physical work. 

Still, he is here and it is getting quite late, doubt he’ll be able to find accommodations besides spending the night here. He assuages Rusty that he’ll give it a go and Rusty leads him to his room, showing Louis his own on the way should he need anything. Louis is unconvinced that he’ll be finding any real leisure in this but he is now resolved to give it his best try. Judging by the general demeanor of Rusty and the baseline comfort of the lodgings at the very least he hasn’t been suckered into one of those fragile masculinity bootcamps, which was really what he was worried about standing on that dusty road. 

Looking out the window Louis finds evidence of some of the other men staying at the ranch. Unsurprisingly no one else seems to be of his, uh, diminished disposition. They do all seem to be having a good time doing whatever chore they’re doing after supper. As he watches a few of them discard their shirts and Louis starts to feel like a lech gawking at the sweaty men laboring. He closes his blinds and goes to sit on his bed, grabbing a book from his luggage. 

He starts to read as he awaits for the day to end and his time here at large to swiftly pass. Before too long however, he finds he just can’t get comfortable in the bed. All of a sudden he feels a little pent up, Louis shivers as he feels some all too familiar urges start to influence his mind. Unable to focus on his book as he is increasingly overcome by the demands of his loins Louis discards it and takes off his pants, though he abstains from masturbating outright thus far. Rusty was awfully touchy-feely, he’s not used to such a powerful man manhandling him as he did. He should have been more prepared to see a crowd of cowboys however.

As his mind flashes back to the events of this evening what must have made him horny it of course only makes the issue grow more pressing. He snakes his hand into his boxer-briefs and his balls pulse as they feel headway gained. He grimaces as he feels almost disgusted at the control his dick seems to have over his mind at the moment, though this only heightens the intensity of the pleasure rolling across his body. He removes his underwear and almost enters delirium as his cock bounces free of its confines, his thin chest reddens with blush as he is almost overloaded with sensuality. His balls feel heavy and full as he reaches down.

Any true control over his actions has been thoroughly abandoned as his cock grows harder than ever before in want of release. His last conscious thought figures that it would be best to get this over with as his interactions with these manliest of men are sure to be ongoing. His body contorts on the bed as his hips hump the air as he pursues pleasure in the only way he can. After seconds or hours Louis feels himself reach the pinnacle of his ecstasy as he feels his larger balls pull and he unloads into the open air of his lodgings, ropes shooting upwards onto the headboard and his body in its wake. He immediately falls into a dreamless sleep as his body prepares for whatever awaits him tomorrow.

Sun leaks in through Louis’ closed blinds as a handful of roosters crow outside in the ranch. Louis bolts up in bed as the ecstasy of the previous night returns to his mind in flashes. He rubs his face and finds it scratchy, deciding it must be time to shave again. He throws his legs over the side of his bed and sits up, pointedly not looking at the bulge in his pants as his morning wood is clearly larger than usual, nor does his mind draw attention to the absent mess he made last night. Instead he makes for his ensuite bathroom to shave. Louis usually shaves once a week so this should be the only time he has to here, he scratches at his face feeling it being just a tad thicker than usual before he lathers up with shaving cream and gets it done. 

With each pull of the razor he feels himself wake up more, by the time he’s finished he is absolutely raring with energy. It’s like coffee is running through his veins despite having had nothing to eat or drink since before his arrival. He contemplates what to throw on for his theoretical day of leisure before realizing he didn’t unpack. Looking around the room however he finds a tank-top, jeans, and some boots with a letter from Rusty, “To Louie- In case you wanna come out with the boys >:) -Rusty” The discomfort from Rusty getting inside his room aside, Louis for some reason feels drawn to putting on this outfit. 

Certainly not his usual fashion but when in Rome right. The more he thinks about it he isn’t sure if he would be comfortable just sitting around while the cowboys are all out there working anyway. His mind is of two sides, and the fact that he isn’t questioning why on Earth he is suddenly willing to throw on a wife-beater at all points to which side is sure to win. He mumbles and groans at his indecision before just opting to put on Rusty’s outfit with a jacket thrown on over top. The clothes are all a few sizes too big, though certainly not large enough for Rusty himself. Louis makes a note to grill the man over the whole situation as he steps out.

His boots click loudly on the paneled floor as he finds his footing in them, not entirely sure it’s safe to wear boots that are too big, though heading out in spite of this. Rusty’s eyes light up as he sees Louis walk down in his laid out garb. He cheers, “Good morning Louie, come on down and meet the crew!” Louis opens his mouth to correct the man before he is shouted over by the horde of men sitting around a large table eating breakfast. He sheepishly walks over to sit in the open seat by Rusty, trying to stand taller than he is, unaware that his efforts pay off as his spine stretches and his chest puffs out.

Rusty throws his arm around Louis’ shoulder and Louis can’t help but sniff as the man’s B.O. is once more forced to the front of his mind. He feels a pulse go through his only recently quieted cock as he realizes he probably should have rubbed another one out this morning. Rusty looks down at him with a coy smirk, his deep voice trying to speak so only Louis can hear, “So you wanna come see what real men do on the ranch huh?” Louis blushes from the intimacy, shrugging as he looks away to avoid getting too heated from his scent. Rusty takes this as a yes and cheers before directing the men out to the fields.

his as a yes and cheers before directing the men out to the fields. 

The men file by, giving Louis pats on the back just as Rusty did last evening before Rusty taking up the rear slaps him on the ass and drags him out alongside them, “don’t you worry ‘bout goin’ too hard now, Louie. Day one you can take a back seat and watch, mostly.” Louis rubs his ass where Rusty slapped him, perturbed at the indignity while being more than turned on at the act. He feels his ass start to better fit the pants as he wanders after the crowd of men, grateful that for whatever reason the jeans seem to be hanging better on his hips.

The day goes by without much note, despite ostensibly joining to avoid gawking at the men working, it is what makes up the bulk of Louis’ day. Sitting in the sun he throws on a ball cap to keep it out of his eyes. He struggles to ignore the dozens of erections that demand his attention as the hours pass, each one slightly more intense than the last as each time it fills his pants ever so slightly more. His balls beneath growing hungrier and fuller as the minutes trickle by. Sometime in the back half of the day Louis decides to try and engage with their activities to distract himself. Seeing the men working intense machinery and sweatily lift massive objects with a smile, Louis starts to daydream what exactly he would be able to do if he joined them.

From afar Rusty watches as the quiet man looks around the ranch, staring at hay bales and motioning with his arms. Unaware that each step in his mind towards masculinity his body will follow suit. He raises an arm behind his head and notices his jacket is catching oddly, so he discards it and reveals the show that is soon to start. Louis slowly circles the field as his arms start to put on mass. His arms snake longer and larger as he taps on a tractor and talks shop to the man sitting in its seat. The two of them laugh and Rusty watches as Louis’ chest expands, his shoulders and wingspan stretching larger with each hearty exhalation.

The rate at which Louis’ balls continue to expand he finds it hard to not simply just think with them as hormones begin to course through his mind, filling him with a confidence he has never had before. Just as everyone is starting their final tasks before supper Louis decides to step up and help out, only polite to help them get done faster right? He flexes his arms unconsciously as he makes his way towards Rusty to inquire where he could best fit. Rusty points him towards equipment to bring back to the shed, sure that even now it’d be a struggle for the tourist to handle.

Not to be emasculated, something he’s never been concerned of before, Louis stomps over, paying no mind as his shoes suddenly fit the boots he was swimming in hours ago. His jeans hug his thighs as he bends down to hug his arms around the large hunk of metal. Muscle that has never been there presses into the harsh lines of metal and he strains to stand. Veins force their way on his neck and his body bursts larger as it struggles to imbue him with the power to lift it. He smirks as his pecs force their way out larger and his core tightens with strength. Around him his, or no, the other cowboys grab the rest with expediency and little ado. Pride fills him as he does his part and gets whatever this machine is back inside before heading back to Rusty, struggling to hide the proud grin on his face.

Louis takes off his hat to shake sweat from his hair as Rusty ruffles it and laughs, “Had fun today did ya Louie? Feelin’ stronger than you thought you were?” He tries to hide the fact that he’s blushing from the cowboy as he raises an arm to flex, no thought in his mind about correcting his name. His face between shifts disgust and delight as his suddenly masculine stink breaks through the deodorant he hastily threw on this morning. Then Rusty grabs at his jaw, angling Louis to look him in the eyes as he continues, “Oh? And yer startin’ to grow a beard too, not bad at all.” He releases the visitor’s face as he ratchets it out of eye contact to inspect his own apparently bearded face.

He knows he shaved this morning. But there is no way he would have left this little goatee combo untouched? He’s never been one to grow anything, as he feels at his face a warmth yet again begins to rise in his crotch. He worries that his hair-trigger down there might be a real problem for him, as stubble on his cheek scratches his hand his stomach turns from the sheer pleasure coursing through him. He ceases his facial inspection and ambles after the rest of the crew, scratching at his pits as he does so, toying with the hair he would’ve sworn was not nearly this long or thick. When he thinks no one is looking he brings the hand to his face to smell and he leans on a wall to avoid falling as his hips aimlessly hump in response. He feels pre start to pool in his underwear and hopes that there won’t be an obvious stain.

 Supper that night is a standard affair, Louis refrains from considering how he knows what standard is as his eyes scan the other cowboys, keeping quiet. His eyes dance across their manicured beards and massive hairy chests and where there once was just lust there is a pervasive envy as he inspects them. At one point two of the men get in a tiff and Louis watches as they aim to resolve it via wrestling. He bites the side of his cheek as he tries to inconspicuously watch the two men clutching at each-other on the floor. He hears his cock strain the pants that were impossibly large this morning as his heart starts beating faster in his chest. His chair creaks under him as he tries to quietly adjust, only making his nerves rise higher.

Rusty turns from the spat on the floor to instead observe the newcomer. He sees incredible tension as Louis reacts to every turn and adjustment in the combat, each pointedly slow and deep breath pushes his wife-beater to its limit as indeed a stain is beginning to appear in his crotch, growing darker and larger with each second of the match. Rusty starts to grin watching the goatee on his face begin to darken and connect as the stubble begins to coalesce into sideburns. Louis scratches at a lower stomach and the unmistakable sound of fingers sifting through hair reaches the ears of both men over the din of the men doing everything but frotting on the floor.

Louis hears Rusty exhale and turns to see that he was clearly watching him. His eyes widen as he falls away from the table and breaks down the hall fleeing from it all. Rusty watches as in the sprint his ass and thighs expand even further, forcing a massive tear in the seat of the jeans before he arrives at his room and slams the door. No time or thought to hop in the shower Louis instead jumps face down in bed wanting to scream into his pillow as his mind is awash with unfamiliar feelings and hormones. As his body hugs his bed however he is reminded of the tightness in his crotch as it presses into his comforter. 

The other cowboys flash through his mind as he sits there shivering with lust in his bed. His hands cramp with the strength which he clutches at his mattress as his body has no recourse but to hump the bed like a dog. He shakes his head as he struggles to understand the thoughts, or lack thereof, in his mind. He wants them? He wants to be them? He feels his arms flex and the strength in them only continues to grow as he mindlessly continues to pump into the comforter. His feet grow tight in the boots he has been wearing all day before he rips them off to reveal socks torn asunder and foot odor that would get one banned from a locker room. He continues this act, pleasuring himself in a fashion before tearing off his clothes as his body continues to burn with passion and power before once more drifting away from consciousness.

In his sleep the prickles of a treasure trail continue to grow up his torso as soreness from his work, and from whatever one would deem his session of self-love just concluded, resolve as weight and strength are piled on. His body acts while he continues in a dreamless sleep continuing to rub against the sheets as the scattered blonde hairs on his chest begin to coalesce and darken on his pecs. Louis’ face contorts slightly in his sleep as he feels his small beard grow thick and messy on his face, spreading vines of hair down under his chin before launching down his neck to meet with his chest, which is rapidly being blanketed with its own fur.

Arms upraised to the headboard as they landed when he conked out, his pits firmly wet the pillow next to his increasingly itchy head as they refuse to be left out. His bush of pit hair curls and stretches beyond its realm. Easily connecting to the chest hair as a center trail connects his cum soaked pubes to his sweat and drool stained beard. Above his arms the hair from his pecs crests over his collarbone and starts to convert whatever vellus exists on his shoulders into the thick curly body hair of a man, as the dark hair of his forearms too spreads upwards to connect each and every stray patch of manhood on the man into an irrefutable testament to his masculinity.

At some point quite near morning Rusty enters to deliver clothes, as certainly nothing this man has ever owned could hope to fit. He is reminded of his own heady days when he came to the ranch as he is filled with primal urges from the man just from his scent alone. He starts to look over this impossibly prime specimen on the bed as his eyes begin to glaze over from the sheer desire, he just shakes it off before taking one final deep breath and departing to rub one out before he starts the day.

Today Louis wakes before the crow of the roosters and he stumbles to the restroom. Taking no stock of whatever mess he left for himself as he takes a deep sniff of his pits and smirks. Even yesterday there remained trepidation in his actions, hesitation at whatever is going on at the ranch. Though it seems he must have cummed his brains, or whatever sense remained in him out last night. His thoughts meander through a fog of hungers and impulses that do not at all befit the man that once stood in this place. One that thought no harm could befall him from giving this a chance. He stares at himself in the mirror, rubbing his beard, willing it thicker and grabbing his razor to even out some edges, cowboys gotta look presentable after all.

He goes on about his day, throwing on the clothes laid out for him, just a pair of underwear and jeans that already hugs his waist. He luxuriates at the tightness in his crotch and is grateful that the pants are dark enough to hide any pre-stains sure to arise in this hard day's work. Rusty greets him as he leaves his room, “Mornin’ Louie, ready for another one?” He grimaces as he hears Rusty call him this, twisting his neck as if there was a knot and rising even taller, suddenly needing to look down at a man who felt twice his size when they met. Words spill from his mouth with profound gravel and an unmistakable accent, “Y’know Rust. Think I’ll start goin’ by Lou iffn that’s alright with you.” 

For the first time Rusty is caught off guard, blushing as he feels the bass of the man’s tone in his chest, “Oh! Of course whateve-” Lou smirks and puts a finger to the man’s lips and his eyes widen in shock. Lou grunts and stretches, Rusty’s eyes trace the pecs as after they fall larger and heavier on his chest. He leans in to whisper in Rusty’s ear, “You noticed the ranch don’t quite got a point man?” Rusty bites his tongue as for the first time  since his heady days at the ranch he is caught in a loop, wasn’t he? He would’ve sworn it was? As he looks up at the man he thought he brought in he cannot speak a word to the contrary.

Lou puts a large hand on his shoulder, patting pointedly rough on the man as he asserts himself. “How ‘bout you follow my lead today eh Rust?” He smirks and hoists his pants higher, highlighting his bulge as Rusty feels his own start to grow from the intensity of the man before him, he opens his mouth to speak but with a look down from Lou he immediately relinquishes his voice, as he would anything, to the man before him. Desire tinges his every thought in his mind, and every tensing muscle in his body as he stands by his point man. Lou throws an arm around him as the two make their way to breakfast with their crew. 

Lou commands the room with all the confidence and authority he could muster, which increases with each lustful stare of his lessers in front of him. His pecs continue to swell larger as the bulge in his tight pants expands with labored clearing of his throat. It bobs in his pants as he scratches at his still increasing jungle of pubes. Their first meal nears its close as Lou assigns their daily tasks and missions with aplomb and clarity, as if he had done so hundreds of times before, Rusty standing to his side and nodding with a submissive, hungry, admiration. Before heading out himself he brings Rusty to a side room to take off his pants and finally enjoy the company of a real man.

The two men whittle away most of the day just having at each other in a public area while the rest of their crew works. Each thrust making each both Lou and his Rusty more emblematic of masculinity, of being a true rancher. After loosing enough loads to finally get a second or two of clarity in his mind where he’s not purely thinking with his balls, Lou throws on nothing but a jock and chaps and heads out to look over the fields of the Old Triple R with all the pride he typically reserves for his own body. Sweaty arm around Rusty as he whistles with satisfaction, side-eying the man as he basks in the smell of Lou’s pits. He smirks as he thinks aloud at the glory of his domain, certain it is only going to continue to increase. “Sure can’t wait to show all the world what we got brewin’ for ‘em Rust.” Their eyes scan the horizon with an intensity as they eagerly await the bus sure to carry another lackluster recruit that they will shape into a true stallion of a man.

[jockifyme]

Filling the Roster

Aidan was just starting his second year at university. The summer home with family had been exhausting and he was pumped to be back on campus with everyone and to get back to his routine. Ever since going off to college he’d been trying to work on himself, including going to the gym for the first time in his life. He’d gotten into a good routine his freshman year but hadn’t managed to gain much muscle yet, to his dismay. He was hoping to change that this year. The first day of classes had been a snoozefest, just reading syllabi and some uncomfortable ice breakers, so he was ready to get out of the classroom and into the gym again.

He walked into the campus gym and glanced around to see what was open. He noticed what looked like the wrestling team in the back, hogging all the squat racks and making their presence known with obnoxious grunting. Making a mental note to avoid that area today, Aidan went over to the treadmill to warm up. He’d always been on the nerdier side growing up, and while he did have a year of exercise under his belt now, he still didn’t fit in with that kind of crowd. Aidan put in his earbuds and got to it, the next hour flying by as he did a mild total body workout to ease himself back in.

Satisfied with himself for the day, he grabbed his water bottle and headed to the locker room. Normally he hated changing here and would just walk home first, but he had a club meeting that evening and he didn’t have time to go all the way back. He walked in and was immediately assaulted by the stench, the room absolutely stunk of BO and sweat. Yeah it was a locker room but this was a bit much, he thought as he breathed through his mouth. The wrestling guys had evidently finished their workouts too, as the room was noisy from all their chatter and yelling. They’d left their gear scattered all over the benches and floor, leaving hardly any room for anyone else. Aidan rolled his eyes and squeezed his way through the chaos to an empty corner. Despite working out for an hour he hadn’t sweat much, he never did, so he skipped the shower. Midway through changing he realized the room had gone silent. He turned around to check if the wrestlers had all left but instead was greeted with a sight that made him freeze.

The entire team had gathered behind him and now stared at him. The biggest guy, who Aidan recognized as their captain, Beau, broke the silence.

“Hey pipsqueak,” he said with a shockingly deep voice for a college student, “We found out today we’re down a man this season. We gotta solve that ASAP, y’know?”

Aidan was confused and intimidated. “Uh… Sorry to hear that man,” he said with a crack in his voice. He took a step back only to hit the wall of lockers behind him.

“Yea it’s a real shame ain’t it,” the wrestler took a step towards Aidan. “It’s a good thing I’m a great recruiter,” he laughed to himself. There was an almost sinister grin plastered on his face. 

Aidan felt cornered, realizing that he was standing there in just his boxers. “What do you want with me dude?” He asked frantically as the wrestlers slowly closed in on him. The putrid stench in the room was only getting worse as the jocks came nearer. 

“Like I said, we need a replacement wrestler,” Beau replied, pulling a yellowed jockstrap out of his bag that was on the bench. “I think you’ll enjoy getting to know the team.”

Aidan’s heart was pounding through his chest, he didn’t know what they wanted with him but he knew he needed to get out NOW. His fight or flight (mostly flight) instincts were kicking in. He looked past the wall of jocks to the door of the locker room, about 20 feet away. Before he had a chance to act, two of the wrestlers pounced. They grabbed Aidan’s arms and held him in place as Beau walked up to him.

“What the fuck, let me go!” Aidan cried in distress, struggling against his captors. They were bigger and evidently much stronger than him, not letting him budge at all.

“Hush now, I think you have some real potential here, I’m just going to let that all out,” Beau told Aidan before grabbing his boxers and ripping them off. Aidan’s flaccid cock was on full display, as were the paltry few hairs he called his bush. 

“Well, I’ve seen worse,” Beau chuckled to himself. He took the dirty jockstrap in his hand and pulled it up Aidan’s legs letting it snap into place around his small member. 

“Let me go!” Aidan yelled, continuing to try and break free from the jock’s hold. 

“Just give it a moment,” Beau said, kneeling down to look closer at Aidan’s groin. Aidan’s struggling lessened as he noticed a strange sensation coming from his crotch that was seemingly getting more intense every second. It felt… good almost. No, it did feel good, it was almost like he was jerking off without even touching himself. He felt his dick start to harden as the sensation of pleasure grew.

Beau laughed, “There you go man! I knew you’d come around.” Those words barely registered in Aidan’s ears as he stared at his dick, watching it grow erect and push against the jockstrap as his body was flooded with pleasure hormones. It felt incredible, like his dick was growing harder than ever before. It in fact was, growing steadily past his previous five inches, reaching seven, eight, as it really started to tent the jockstrap. A tingling feeling arose within Aidan’s crotch at the same time as Beau leaned in to take a closer look.

“Aww yea, look at those pubes start to come in. Fuck that’s hot.” He watched as dark hairs sprouted out of Aidan’s mostly bare crotch, like thick weeds shooting out of his skin. Aidan groaned as the sensation of hair growing added to his already euphoric state. Hairs continued popping up across his groin, filling in denser and denser as they spread out. “Looks like our man’s goin’ through puberty right in front of us,” Beau said as he rubbed his hand through the sprouting bush. Aidan’s body shivered in pleasure, Beau’s touch seemingly encouraging more hairs to push out of him. The pubic hairs grew longer and curled together, climbing up the shaft of his now massive cock. Beau grinned as he noticed Aidan’s balls swelling, growing to the size of eggs, then tangerines as they stretched his sack and hung lower. That was just the beginning, as the same thick dark pubes wormed their way out giving him a thick coating. At this point the jockstrap was barely covering anything. Aidan’s now nine inch cock stood completely erect, tenting the fabric and letting his new bush explode outward. Those thick pubes were starting to produce their own musk, not too dissimilar from the general stench of the locker room. The hairs spread out even farther, beginning to climb up above his waistband and onto his stomach, as well as spreading to his inner thighs with a thick rug. Aidan hung in the jocks’ arms nearly limp, his cock dribbling precum like a faucet.

“Well I think this has served its purpose,” Beau said to himself as he pulled the jockstrap off Aidan, letting his thick cock snap up against his stomach. The flow of precum soaked the area around his navel, and where the precum had wetted his skin, more thick hairs began to crop up. Beau went back to his bag and exchanged the dripping jockstrap for a wrestling singlet. It was damp from sweat and being stuffed in Beau’s dank gym bag, and stank to high heaven. With the help of the other wrestlers, Beau got the tight singlet onto Aidan’s lanky body. It didn’t really fit, but there was an enormous bulge from Aidan’s recent developments. He pulled the shoulder straps and let them snap down onto Aidan’s bony clavicle. That immediately pulled Aidan out of his subdued hormone-fueled slumber. 

“Oh, god, oh, oh what the fuck,” he said, processing the past few minutes. Part of his brain was still in adrenaline mode, telling him he needed to BOLT, while another part was content with this situation, elated even. The longer he breathed in the musky air of the locker room the louder that voice became, and the more he wanted Beau’s hands back on him. He looked up away from his own body and made eye contact with Beau, a grin crossing his stubbled face.

“You already look good in that singlet man, it won’t take much now,” Beau told him. Aidan’s mind was running at light speed but his mouth was not on the same wavelength. 

“What are you-, why are-, how the-,” Aidan was trying to get his thoughts out when the pulsing, pleasurable sensation began to return. His words trailed off as he looked down at his own flat chest, watching with wide eyes as two muscular pecs began to push out. He felt his whole body begin to tighten as muscle started popping out all over. Pronounced bone disappeared under layers of thick muscle that began to fill out his form, and the singlet. What had previously been impressively slack for a spandex suit was now taught against his body, expanding as he did. His pecs grew sore as they continued to grow, blocking Aidan’s view of his lower half as they packed on size. On the new horizon of his chest he noticed something, tiny hairs were poking out of his mountainous pecs. They started small and slow but quickly began shooting up all across the vast expanse of his chest. The hairs itched as they grew in, Aidan wasn’t bothered, he was in awe at the forest that was engulfing his new muscles. He ran his hands through the growing hairs, pulling gently on the hairs as they continued their advance across his chest, working up towards his neck and down across his stomach. As the hairs matured they grew darker and curlier, tangling into a thick rug across his pecs. Beau watched Aidan become enraptured by his own jockification. He noticed a growing wet spot in his groin where the precum continued to leak out constantly.

Beau stepped back up to Aidan and planted his hand on his chest, feeling the growing fields of hair. That alone was enough to get a soft moan out of Aidan, putting a devilish grin on Beau’s face. He pinned Aidan’s growing frame against the locker before raising one of his arms up. What he found was underwhelming; a handful of light wispy hairs scattered across the armpit. That would have to change. He stuck his hand into his own sweaty, hairy pit and rubbed it around, coating his fingers in thick jock sweat and musk. He sniffed them just to make sure it was potent enough, and his body was never slacking in the sweat department. Taking his moistened hand he went back to Aidan’s nearly hairless pit and massaged the sweat in. Within moments he felt little prickles of stubble against his fingers. Beau saw dark pinpricks appearing across Aidan’s pit, spots that quickly erupted into thick, wiry hairs. The original wispy hairs grew dark and curly as the sweat did its work, and soon Aidan had a respectable amount of hair under his arm. But that wasn’t enough for Beau, he dug out some more musky sweat from his own pits to finish the job. Soon enough Aidan’s pit hairs completely coated the area, even reaching out to connect with the pelt on his chest. Beau’s fingers were combing through the thick hairs, gently tugging on them and pulling out more growth. Aidan moaned again; the feeling of Beau’s hands stroking his growing pit hairs was euphoric. He was slipping more and more from his old self as his body grew to love this new reality, the jock voice in his own head growing louder.

Beau was satisfied with the pit situation after he was able to smell Aidan’s newly produced stench from a distance. He stepped back and watched as Aidan’s body continued to adjust to the singlet. In the same way his pecs had ballooned, his arms began exploding with size. His delts, triceps, biceps, and forearms grew intensely sore as they put on years worth of bulk in moments. Aidan was finally starting to look like a wrestler who could hold his own on the mat. The definition on his new muscles was quickly hidden as hair began to sprout across his boulder shoulders and down his arms. What started as a few hairs popping up across his shoulders grew into a flood of dark hair that surged down his arms, and the singlet left it all visible for the crowd. The hairs continued growing denser, curling around each other as the hair began to resemble fur on his bulky arms; he would look like a total beast of a man in action. Aidan’s hands got the same treatment, his palms grew bulkier as his hands stretched out in size. He could hear the popping sounds of his growth but was too flush with hormones to care, barely registering the thick hairs growing on the backs of his hands. Beau could already tell Aidan was going to become one of their best wrestlers, with his immense size and build. All he needed was to let the inner jock blooming inside of him take control.

After the growth in Aidan’s arms slowed down, his legs picked up the slack. His quads beefed up, thighs nearly shredding the singlet with their girth. Beau watched as Aidan’s bulge twitched and leaked as his legs grew longer and thicker than they’d ever been. His feet began to stretch and grow, expanding to a size 15 before becoming covered by hairs. Those hairs raced up his calves and onto his thighs, leaving him with a thick fur coating for his tree trunks. Aidan had grown to the point where he could take most of the jocks on the team, almost rivaling Beau’s height and mass. Beau knew he’d made a good call with Aidan, he’d been so similar before he joined the team. He couldn’t help but rub his hands over Aidan’s furry legs, feeling the coarse hairs run through his fingers. He could feel Aidan’s heart rate increase. He almost felt envious of him, experiencing immense growth like this was a once in a lifetime event, and he knew Aidan was almost complete.

Aidan groaned as his body fully filled out the singlet, stretching it to its limit with his massive muscles. The fur that had coated his body felt incredible rubbing against the fabric, keeping his cock at full mast, pressed against the singlet so everyone knew. Beau looked him up and down; Aidan had the body of a tank, a heavyweight champion, but a severe case of babyface. Beau had an idea, he went back to his grab and grabbed his mouthguard. It was grimy and had a couple hairs stuck to it, but it’d do the trick. He grabbed Aidan’s pudgy face and opened his mouth, shoving the guard in. Aidan sputtered as he gagged on old spit and wiry hairs.

“Aw, the hell bro what was that,” he complained weakly. Beau smiled, he was already speaking more like a jock, and that voice was getting deeper. He watched as an Adam's apple pushed out of Aidan’s neck, cementing his new rugged voice. Aidan’s face started to darken a shade as the shadow of thick stubble spread across his jaw. It quickly pushed out, brown hairs coating his face. They grew longer and thicker, with more popping up between old ones, giving him an incredibly dense short beard. Aidan moaned as the hairs spread across his jaw and up his sideburns to his hair, which gained some lighter highlights and shortened into a more athletic style. His upper lip erupted with the same thick hairs, giving him a full short beard. His jaw squared up and his eyebrows grew bushier, before his ears grew and stuck out from his head more. He finally looked fully like a champion wrestler. Aidan stroked his hands through the dense growth, finally pushing him over the edge. His breaths quickened and grew louder as he climaxed, grunting as cum erupted out of his thick cock. It pushed through the fabric of the singlet, pouring down the front of it. The euphoric trance he’d been in began to fade, but the old Aidan was gone. He was Aidan the wrestler, a jock ready to conquer his path on the mat. Instinctually he flexed, showing off his beefy arms and hairy pits. The scent emanating from his pits matched the rest of the locker room now, and he took a big whiff of it out of habit, that manly odor really turned him on. Beau laughed and grabbed Aidan’s hand, pulling him upright. His cum was still dripping down his singlet onto the floor, adding to the pungent scent of the locker room.

“Welcome to the team bro,” Beau said, looking forward to their best season yet.

[jockifyme]

My Stories

Hey y'all, putting this here so anyone can get to my stories easily. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

New Crew (Construction Worker)

From the Stage to the Wrestling Mat (Theater Geek to Wrestler)

Look into My Eyes (Muscle Growth, Hypnosis)

Brit to Patriot (Happy 4th of July)

A Day at the Lake (Redneck)

A Shortcut (Nerd to Jock)

The Football Team is Untouchable (Professor to Football Player)

More Than a Spectator (Football Player TF)

At the Bus Stop (Football Player TF)

[jockifyme]

Stained

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

They say when you are in an accident everything moves in slow motion. That wasn't at all how it felt for me. I was driving down a slight slope toward an intersection out in bumfuckyall, where a truck was waiting at a red light. Why they would put a traffic light out here with nothing but crop fields around is beyond me. Getting some extra revenue from people running the lights perhaps. Not busy enough to warrant the installation though. Maybe to stop traffic when harvesters or whatever pass by, but they would move slowly and be pretty darn visible in this terrain.

The belt tensioner yanked me into the seat at the same time as I heard the crash and I had just time to turn my head back from the fields to see the now milky front window, shattered into thousands of small glass cubes suspended by the plastic film on the back of it, give way to the mass that had been thrown off the flatbed and flung into my windshield. Through the widening gap at the top of the windshield liquid was dumped into the car, all over me, and everything turned into black silence with a strong smell of chemicals.

It all went faster than I could register, and I just sat there still with burning eyes, trying to comprehend what had just happened. I somehow had run into the truck. I heard hurried steps outside and someone first trying to open the door then rapping the side window and shouting "Are you hurt, buddy?"

Was I? My shoulder hurt from the seat belt, and I couldn't see anything, but otherwise I wouldn't feel anything damaged. I fumbled a bit to find how to open the door and once successful responded "I'm OK I think. I can't see though."

"Thank Lord. It's wood stain. Had some buckets in the back. Some paint too. It'll make you dizzy and sick, but I wouldn't worry about going blind. Let me help you out and lay you down. I have plenty of water to rinse you."

Despite squeezing my eyes as shut as I could, reasoning that opening them would probably let more paint in than out, I had no problems finding and removing the seat belt, and stepping out of the car. As soon as I was out of the car he grabbed my arm and led me to a spot in front of both vehicles. My mouth tasted of chemicals and I spat on the ground several times.

"Just lie down here, buddy. Are you sure you aren't hurt?" "A bit sore, but nothing really hurts." "That's a relief. The car is probably a write-off with all the damage outside and in. This is all my fault." Without opening my eyes I let myself be guided to the ground while he talked. I could hear the steps of another person getting closer from beyond my car. "It is?" "Casy, get the big jug!" he told the other person, who answered a curt "Yep" in a young man's voice. "I must have put in reverse while waiting for the light and then... reverse into you," he said, talking to me again. "It's a rental. I'm sure they are used to handling things like this." "Just stay still there buddy, and I'll start pouring."

He began pouring water on my face, occasionally wiping with a rag of some sort. "Open your mouth and take some water. Then swig it around and spit it out." We did that a few times. A few more rinses and I dared to open my eyes. He looked like he sounded like. Trucker cap, beard, grey and blue flannel shirt, blue jeans, and boots. Hovering behind him was a boy in his late teens or early twenties, dressed very similarly in camo cap, blue JROTC hoodie, jeans, and boots. For my part I was wood-stain brown and garden-fence white.

"I'm Cliff, this is Casy," Cliff said and gave me his hand to help me up. As I stood up and looked past his pick up I could see my car. It looked worse than I would have expected. While the collision didn't feel that bad, the crumple zones certainly felt it. A few buckets of paint had landed next to it, but clearly the inside was ruined by the ones that had passed through the glass. I had no hope that my travel bag with what little extra clothes I had brought with me had survived either, as I think I had tossed it on the passenger seat. 

"I'm Bradly" "Casy, give Bradly your pop. He can't taste nothing but paint." Casy did a nod and another dull "yep", but jumped into the truck with ease and was quickly out again with a can of Monster. Ignoring that it was opened and with a third gone, I took an eager sip, swirled it in my mouth, and swallowed. When I had emptied the can the taste of oil and paint was almost gone.

"I reckon we need to hose you down before we can do anything else. Casy can stay here while we bring you to the house to clean you up. Then we can figure out how to take care of the car. How's that sound, buddy?"

"Sounds reasonable to me." "I'm sorry, but do you mind getting on the flatbed." He motioned all over my paint-drenched body. "No. Is it far?" "It's a quick drive."

When you are lying on your back on a tarp next to reclaimed wood, slowly drying into the color of an antique table, seeing nothing but the afternoon sky, nothing is a quick drive. I didn't dare move, not so much because I was lying unprotected in the back of a truck that was driving far too fast for my comfort, but because I was soaked in oil and paint and water, and didn't want to mess anything else up. The wind running over my body was chilling, despite the balmy weather. My shoulder and chest hurt from where the belt tightener pulled me back into the seat. Despite the wind there was a strong smell of paint. I felt lightheaded. My mind began to wander. I should probably call the motel that I would be late, or not arriving at all. I was thinking about how I decided to not have a coffee at the diner to get back on the road quicker. I should have bought one. The apple pie slices looked delicious. Eventually however I would see treetops creeping into view and soon after we came to a stop on gravel.

"Where is he?" a woman asked nearby. "Back there," Cliff answered and opened the tailgate. He extended a hand to help me down. "Hey buddy, this is Sarah!" "Hi," Sarah said smiling. "Bradly"

Instead of walking towards the house she motioned toward one of the barns. "Hose is over there. Then you can take a proper shower after." On Sarah's urging I took off everything but my briefs. She suggested I take them off as well, but didn't press the issue. The water was pretty high-pressure and ice cold. Cold water worked better than hot water Sarah claimed, not that hot water was an option outside the house.

Once I was hosed enough that the water didn't run brown anymore, and I felt I was near risking hypothermia, I wrapped myself in an old discolored beach blanket Sarah handed me and we walked back to the house. I shivered and my lightheadedness had turned into a dull, thumping headache. Cliff and the truck were gone. Sarah grabbed one of the white plastic chairs, placed it near the front door, and told me to sit down. "The white paint doesn't stick too bad to the skin, but we're never going to be able to clean this out," she said and touched my hair. I hadn't felt a feeling like that since I used way too much hair gel for Halloween many years ago. It was like my hair and the paint had formed a helmet. She quickly returned from the house with a trimmer on an extension cord. "Sides are not too bad. I can make a flat top," she said and buzzed away, clearly used to taking care of Cliff and Casy. I cringed when I heard it, and was about to stop her, but changed my mind. Better to let her keep as much hair as possible and decide on the real emergency haircut later.

She then led me through the house and what must have been Casy's room, with a home gym and a gaming setup, to his bathroom. Everything was big and roomy, but I guess it is inexpensive to build large when you have lots of land, time, and resources. "Take as much time as you need and use any of the soaps you want. I'll put some clothes on the bed for you. Just throw your briefs in the bathroom bin," Sarah said and left.

I looked in the bathroom mirror, the first time I saw myself after the accident. I looked terrible. The haircut was ugly, of course, but the uneven stain stains all over my body made me look tan and dirty. Like I had spent all day riding a dirt bike in mud, not the last ten minutes being blasted by ice water. I looked as beaten and spent as I felt.

By "any of the soaps" she meant the Axe Total Fresh 3-in-1 shampoo, conditioner, and body wash that there were four opened bottles of in various places in the bathroom. Somehow Casy managed to both have a messy bathroom without having much in it. The water felt like a blessing on my cold, bruised body. I just stood there for a while, letting the warm water rinse me. Then I lathered myself completely and rinsed off three times in a row. Neither the foam nor the water looked discolored, and when I dried myself with the one towel in the room it didn't become stained. The image in the mirror however looked disappointingly identical to before. The same stained me, but now with a more acute headache. Everything smelled like Axe Total Fresh, and it did my head no favors.

I peeked into Casy's room. No one was there and the door to the rest of the house was shut, so I entered and looked at the clothes laid out for me on the bed. Only one of each, so no options. First black compression boxers with a wide Nike band. Then a pair of green-brown socks that looked like what the army issues. Some lightly distressed blue jeans with a black leather belt. A military green Under Armour T-shirt in a glossy material with "patriotic" print with stars and almost-US flags on it. A hunting camo baseball cap. Finally a pair of well-worn leather boots. I put it all on, including the hat to cover the ugly hair and the boots because I wasn't sure what the indoor etiquette here was. Everything fit surprisingly well, though I guess she could have looked at the size of my ruined clothes.

I opened the door and stepped out of the room, trying to find Sarah, or anyone really. How long had I been in the shower? Probably an hour, if not longer. "Hello?" "We're over here," I heard Sarah shout from across the house. I walked in the direction of her voice and was soon joined by Cliff who emerged from another room. "How are you feeling, buddy?" he asked in a concerned fatherly manner. "I think I'm about to have an episode of migraine." "That something you've had before." "Never."

"Take your seats. You over here Brad," Sarah said as we turned the corner into a large kitchen with a table laid for four. "Bud... eh, Bradly." I tried to correct her, but she had turned to the big cast iron pot on the stove. Casy already sat by the table with a phone in his hand, but his eyes were firmly on me. His face didn't reveal any expressions.

Sarah placed the heavy pot on the table and with a big ladle filled my plate with a dark stew. "Here you go, Bud," she said. As the smell of beef stock, fresh herbs, carrots, onions, and slow cooked, rich meat reached my nose I immediately recognized the telltales. Weakening of the jaw. The increase in saliva. I almost threw myself out of the chair, rushed over to the sink, and managed just in time to throw up into the sink. I realized I was sweating. Then another heave of vomit. "Oh, poor buddy," Sarah said and patted my back.  "Here, drink this," she said and filled a glass of water from a pitcher. My body heaved a third time, but nothing came out. "Thanks," I replied and took the glass with some apprehension, waiting to see if my body would do something else. Once it appeared safe I took the glass and started to empty it.

"Casy, make one of them shakes for him. He needs to get something in his belly." Almost reluctantly, like I had ruined his meal, Casy got up and moved towards a cupboard. "I just need to rest I think," I said, my head now mercilessly pounding in pain. "Out of the question. You need something to fortify you."

Casy quickly scooped powder from a large plastic container into a workout shaker bottle thing, poured in some water, gave it a quick shake, and handed it to me. I had barely put it to my mouth when Cliff said "He can barely stand. Take him to your room for a nap." "Come then," Casy said and led the way out of the kitchen, with me following sipping the chalky mixture. "You know the way though," he said once out of earshot from the kitchen. Back inside his room he motioned at the bed and said "This is a bed," deadpan to me. I wanted to say it wasn't my fault his day was ruined. In fact, mine had gone way worse than his, but my head hurt too much for me to care. "Thanks." I put my back on the bed and was out in seconds.

The hard plastic of the ear protectors was what made me wake up properly, and it took a moment to realize what it was and get them off. Almost ripped the cap off with them. These were the radio/bluetooth kind that allowed you to listen to music while you worked. Bright, orange colored cups with the rest of it black. I got up from the bed and left them on the sheets. Apparently I was already fully dressed, so I headed to the kitchen. Sarah was there preparing things.

"Mornin' Ma'am." "Good morning, Buddy." I took my seat. Sarah filled a bowl with porridge, drizzled honey over it, set it on the table in front of me together with a spoon. "Better hurry. Cliff is waiting for you." "Yes, Ma'am."

It wasn't until I began eating I realized how hungry I was, so it wasn't a problem to be quick. Not having seconds though felt rough. Just outside the house was Cliff, doing something with a quad to which he had hooked a trailer full of wooden poles. "Mornin', Sir" "Morning Buddy! Get up in the trailer and make sure nothing shakes out while we drive down the fields. "Yes, Sir."

Once we came to a stop after a bumpy ride, Cliff showed me how to operate the earth drill to make holes, then how to insert a pole, and with the sledge hammer drive it down so it fit securely. He then let me do that while he was working on putting up wires for the electric fence. After we had been at it for quite a while Sarah called on the walkie-talkie and said sheriff Miller wanted to talk to us. We unhooked the trailer and drove up to the farm on the quad, me sitting behind Cliff, straddling him.

Outside the main house Sarah and the sheriff waited for us. It was mostly a boring conversation between Cliff and the sheriff that I tuned out of, but then the sheriff turned to me and asked "And who is this?" "It's Buddy, farmhand for the summer," Cliff answered and took a slight step to the side to give room for the sheriff. The sheriff looked me over for a second. "You were here yesterday?" "Yes, Sir." "Did you see anyone come by yesterday afternoon or evening?" "No, Sir." "Anything else out of the ordinary happened yesterday?" "Yes, Sir. I threw up, Sir. Hasn't happened in years, Sir." "Hahaha." He turned to Cliff again. "If anything comes up let me know. It's not the first traveler that's gotten lost around here, but they usually turn up sooner or later." "They have a habit of doing that, causing extra work for the local sheriff while they are wandering about," Cliff answered, smiling back. The sheriff shook his head and opened his car door. "You ain't wrong."

Once the car was well on its way up the dirt road Sarah motioned at cooler that was on the ground. "I was about to come down with lunch to you boys, but perhaps you want to eat it up here." "Yeah, let's take a breather. This was a close call." Cliff opened a small tool bag that was hanging on the quad and pulled out another pair of orange ear protectors, if not the same as earlier. He turned the knob on them and put them on my head. Noise was sloshing around in my ears like waves breaking on a beach. Voices were whispering all around me. It was impossible to focus on a single voice and hear its message. Just a school of slippery tadpoles swimming around and around. Impossible to grab. Somewhere far in the distance I could hear Cliff talking.

"Let's go even harder with the programming. We don't need him cognisant for the rest of the day."

[jockifyme]

A Son, Reformed

To be perfectly clear, Joe was surprised when his son Tyler began religiously working out, gaining muscle at an amazing pace, and then informed him that he'd joined the football team as a recruit. But...

He was certainly glad that it happened. When Tyler came with him to Dallas after the divorce, he had a hard time living alone with the artsy teenager. Joe, a conservative-leaning man wanting to uphold masculine virtues, had a hard time getting along with Tyler, who was very much not interested in masculinity, so to speak.

He didn't expect that to change when his son enrolled in university. Joe's only success was convicting Tyler to stay with him and choose local, and so his son began studying anthropology at Texas Christian University. He seemed to feel comfortable there, having quickly found a small group of nerd--- other kids with similar interests that he now hang around with.

It seemed that Joe's relation with his son wouldn't change substantially despite Tyler beginning a new part of his life. And then one day, somewhere around early October, Tyler came back home reeking of sweat, like he had just ran 10 miles through a desert. He still didn't really speak with Joe, but it was clear that something was going on. A few days later his son came back from college, but instead of his usual backpack, he had a duffel bag on his shoulder. When asked about it he simply required "Dunno dad, it's conformable, I guess."

Joe quickly figured out that Tyler was working out while not at home. But he wasn't really sharing annoying with him, which disappointed Joe a lot. His son wasn't even going to talk to him about the gym, a topic Joe was certainly familiar with, the real man he was.

Then two things happened. Tyler came to him, saying he was joining the football team, and Joe received an e-mail from George Bridges, the head coach of the TCU Horned Frogs football team, requesting a one-on-one conversation.

He agreed, hoping for this to explain the situation. So Joe came to the building of the Athletics Complex at TCU and walked up to Coach Bridges' office. The other man welcomed him and quickly began talking, and as the conversation progressed the grin on Joe's face grew larger and larger.

As Coach explained, there was a dip in the recruiting numbers, so he had to turn to more unorthodox tactics. And that meant infusing Tyler with some real jock musk during a safety seminar taught by Coach Bridges, then taking him and getting his mind accustomed to the idea of becoming a jock.

That of course required getting him high on bro musk and using a few "influencing" techniques Coach learned during his time in the military. After a few of those sessions, carried out in a locker room just after a practice where the smell of jock was still very potent, Tyler joined the other rookies at the gym.

The rookies made sure he quickly caught up with them, which is why Tyler had been coming home drenched in sweat. He was doing an extensive workout routine and, as part of a welcoming ritual, the other football jocks prevented him from taking showers. After a few weeks of almost-daily weights training, Coach made the next big step. He invited Tyler for a talk, during which he made him wear a set of TCU-branded gym gear, and then, using his conversation skills he got in the Army as an instructor at West Point, he eloquently got Tyler to think he was a football jock at heart, which quickly led to Coach accepting Tyler's request to join the team as the freshest recruit - the newest Horned Frog bro.

Joe was surprised by what he heard, for sure. But he was also content, because he knew that his son was now in good hands, and on the right tracks. He expressed his feelings to Coach, saying that he wasn't expecting a coach in the modern days to go to such an extent to fight for his team, but that he was glad there were still men like Coach Bridges in America, working to preserve the traditions of college football.

Things changed for the better in Joe's household. Tyler--- Ty was now eager to spend time with him, talking about practice and shit-talking Baylor and SMU. His room had quickly transformed - textbooks and vinyl records got thrown out or sold, a PS4 and a collection of footballs took their place. The floor was now covered with gym gear - compression shirts, shorts and a few pairs of cleats. It smelled like a locker room, Ty's jock musk always filling every space he entered. There were three gym duffels hanging form the door, always ready for a session with the bros. The walls were now covered with posters showing TCU (and to Joe's delight - Cowboys) players at their best.

Ty also adopted the vocabulary mannerisms of his teammates, which meant Joe was no longer "dad", but "bro" or "dude". He didn't have a problem with at though, at all. In fact, he very much encouraged this "bro talk", seeing it as another step on Ty's journey towards masculinity. Same with spreading legs and openly scratching his crotch. For Joe it was clear that his son was becoming a real man.

Joe was also astounded by the speed at which Ty gained muscle mass, quickly becoming so massive it was impossible to see any difference between him and the other jocks on the team. He quickly got used to Ty flexing at random times - he knew that with guns like these, Ty had every right to show some pride in his gains.

Before the season ended, Ty finished his transformation and officially joined the roster as a defensive end. He was now a prime specimen of an all-american jock and Joe couldn't be prouder, watching his son do tackling drills during open practice. Ty quickly adjusted to the jock lifestyle, changing his majors form anthropology to health & fitness, as it was clear that his cognitive abilities decreased significantly, his mind now focused on football, not that nerd sh--- academic work. He'd much rather join his best bros - Street, Mike and Case - in the gym or in their favorite sports bar that gave out discounts for beer to TCU athletes.

Ty also frequently invited them home, which meant Joe was now used to his living room turning into a space for partying and beer-drinking testosterone-filled football bros. He's now used to the sounds of Madden and the boys grunting as they play against each other filling his house.

Now every time Ty enters the house, his TCU tank top damp with sweat, and his low and empty voice welcomes Joe with a "'am back bro!" or "''ey dude, what's up?", he smiles and thinks how lucky he was to have a son like that. A real man. Now he could get to work, turning Ty from just a football jock to a real patriot like himself.

[jockifyme]

Idea: My fantasy is to be forcibly transformed from a young, affluent, VERY clean, well-educated, well groomed, well dressed white corporate executive into a VERY dirty uneducated garbageman. I must be forced to surrender my corporate career, my car, my office, my name, my money, my expensive formal business suit and tie, my wristwatch and polished black dress shoes and even my dress socks, along the way to my new real life.

Boardroom to trash bins

You glance at the golden watch on your left wrist and decide to walk a little faster.

You are not late - yet - but the board meeting is too important to be late to. Of course, on the other hand, you can't walk so fast that you would break a sweat. The thought alone of arriving at meeting room with beads of sweat on your forehead or, God forbid, a damp spot on your dress shirt is even worse than coming a minute or two late. That, at least, you can blame on the traffic, which is not even wrong. Your expensive German car has been stuck behind a garbage truck for a good ten minutes. Inacceptable, of course. You would expect the city to schedule such annoying but probably necessary services at night, when there is no traffic that could be slowed down by it.

After all, you have a reputation to uphold! You are Jameson Pierce, son of the millionaire and successful investor James Pierce. You are also the owner and CEO of one of the most prominent investment companies, Pierce&Co.

You have the best business education money can buy and your decisions influence the fate of thousands of employees of yours. You don't arrive late to board meetings like that!

Still, there is no reason to get agitated yet. If the lift is free, you will arrive perfectly on time.

As you quickly make your way over the office parking lot that is being overshadowed by the 50 story skyscraper you own, you almost collide with an old man in a blue uniform, who is blocking the way into the building by picking up refuse from the ground. Apparently, the wind has knocked over the garbage can next to the entrance, and all the contents have scattered on the pavement. The old man is just bending down to pick up the cans and garbage bags and put them back in the bin.

"Out of the way!" you blurt. Usually, you are nicer to your employees by just curtly ignoring them, but this old man is blocking your way and moves slow as a snail.

"Of course, sir, right away!" he says with a toothless smile, and you almost gag. The old man is disgusting! He looks as if he has been sleeping on the street, and the smell of booze emanating from him makes that assumption very likely. You briefly wonder if he even works for you and decide that if so, he needs to be disciplined for his appearance.

However, you are interrupted by his next sentence.

"I just need to pick up all that garbage here. You could help, sir, that would make it quicker."

What? This filthy old drunkard dares to ask you for help? The audacity!

"Out of my way!" you repeat and push the old man aside. You are now standing directly in front of the revolving door, ready to enter your company's building. Behind you, you can hear the old man mumbling something and then start cackling, like a maniac.

You shrug it off. The man is lucky you don't have time for that right now, as you carefully navigate through the scattered items on the ground. You need to be extra careful not to ruin your thousand dollar shoes or dress pants by stepping into something sticky and foul-smelling.

Even if you weren't in a hurry, there's no way Jameson Pierce would bend down to pick up garbage. You are reasonably proud to have never touched anything that has been in a bin - that's what employees are for, not managers like you.

The board meeting continues as bad as the day had started. It is way too warm in the meeting room and you can't prevent a single drop of sweat forming on your forehead. Of course, you wipe it away with your silk handkerchief and hope nobody has noticed, but that's not the only thing going wrong. Twice in your report, you find yourself at a loss of words. Instead of using the correct technical term, you have to verbally set back half a sentence and explain what you mean in simpler words. How very, very embarrassing.

It comes as no surprise that, when the meeting is finally over, you are in a particularly bad mood. Sadly, the old man from before has left, otherwise you would have fired him on the spot as a therapeutic action.

On the way to your car, you call your secretary to cancel all further appointments today, but as you try to ring the number, you just get the message that no connection could be made.

Just great. So, your office phone system has broken down as well. Angrily, you get in your car to drive over to your office yourself.

You don't get very far. Halfway on the way to your office, there is a grinding noise from the engine and then, your car just stops. Right in the middle of the street. You almost can't believe your bad luck. Angrily, you hit the steering wheel, sounding the horn in the process, but it's no use. Trying to ignore the honking from outside and the rude gestures of drivers finding their way around you, you reach into your pocket to call the car dealership. Luckily, you're well covered for such situations.

You stare blankly at the device in your hand. This isn't your cell phone. Instead of the brand new current flagship model with the big Pineapple on the back, you are looking at the cheap plastic of a no-name device with a cracked screen that is probably ten years old.

"What the...?"

You frantically search all of your pockets, but they are all empty.

You can't help but feel as if you have gone insane. No, there has to be a rational explanation. You have probably just pocketed the wrong phone when you were at the board meeting. Of course, there are immediately nagging voices in your mind that remind you that you had tried to call your office just before getting in the car, or that surely nobody at the board meeting would have such a phone, but you decide to tune them out.

Your office is now only two blocks away. There, you have your tablet with all of your contacts. You can call the car dealership to care for the car and then just end this horrible day.

You get out of the car and ignore the shouting from the other drivers. A line of cars has formed behind your expensive Mercedes, but you ignore that as well and begin to walk. Two blocks don’t sound too bad, but it is a hot day, and you feel uncomfortable quickly. You have to loosen your tie because it feels constricting around your neck. That's not the only piece of clothing feeling wrong. Your step feels heavier, and you have to scratch yourself multiple times, trying to readjust the expensive Italian dress shirt, which is suddenly not sitting right.

Finally, you arrive at your office building. You don't even want to look down on yourself. You can feel your shirt clinging to your body and you feel disgusted by your appearance. Good thing this will all be over soon.

As you approach the elevator, you notice that you don't have your wallet at the ready - you must have forgotten it at the car. Ignoring the fact that you just now have realized the lack of its weight and the fact that you never leave your wallet in your car, you go to the reception for an elevator.

The receptionist, a perfectly styled young woman, watches as you approach and smiles.

"Hello Sir, what can I do for you today?"

"An elevator to my office." you say, adding a "Please." although you don't really feel like it.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but what exactly is your office?"

You look at the receptionist dumbfounded.

"My office." You repeat slower now.

"I don't know you sir, you need to be more specific." The young woman smiles.

That's it.

"What do you mean you don't know me?!" You shout. "I own this fucking place. It is me, Jameson Pierce! Now call me an elevator and then pack your things, you are fired!"

The receptionist looks at you as if she was dealing with a madman.

"Sir, you are not in the company register and I'm sorry, but if you don't leave the premises immediately, I'll call security."

"What are you talking about? I have an office on the 50th floor, which is where I need to go!"

"You can't have an office there, sir, that is the executive offices. Now, please leave."

"Listen, girl." you lean closer, invading her space. "Call. Me. An. Elevator. Or else."

The young woman doesn't even flinch. She presses the intercom and speaks with a steady voice: "Security, there is a madman in the lobby. Please come and remove him."

"You little...", you start, but the young woman is done talking to you. Instead, she turns away and starts to file her nails, waiting for security, which arrives some seconds later.

"Good!" You address the bulky Black man in the dark security uniform. "Could you please tell the girl that I have an office on the top floor."

"I don't think so." the man replies, "But I can show you the exit. Follow me, Sir."

"No. I am the CEO. I own the company! My father James Pierce gave it to me!"

The security guard shrugs his shoulders and takes hold of your arm.

"As far as I know, Mr. Pierce has no children. Leave the premises, Sir."

"But... you can't treat me like that! Do you know who I am?"

The Black man doesn't reply, instead, he begins dragging you towards the door. Unsurprisingly, he is much stronger than you, and your expensive shoes drag over the marble tiles.

"You can't do this!" You yell. "I will sue the company! You will all lose your jobs, just watch!"

"Whatever you say, Sir." The man pushes you outside the building. You stumble a little and then turn around, but the door is already closing.

"Fuck you!" You shout after the guard.

You take a deep breath. Whatever is going on here, it's not good. What to do.

After some consideration, you decide to grab your wallet from your car and take a cab home. There, you will deal with all of this.

As you arrive at your car again, you come just in time to see it being towed away. All running behind it and shouting does not help. You almost cry as you see the towing truck disappear around a corner, along with your car, your wallet and everything else you left in there. As you turn around to leave the scene and walk home, the next disaster is already waiting for you. There is a muddy sinkhole in the sidewalk, left over from some construction work and you don't notice it until it's too late. The next moment, you find your right leg standing in stinking mud all up to your knee. You try to free your leg, of course, and it works, sort of. With a smacking noise, the mud swallows your right shoe whole and leaves you with one dirty sock.

This day can't possibly get any worse, you think, but you are wrong.

Half an hour later, you have to admit that you got lost entirely. You are in a part of the city you have not been in before. Usually, you navigate the city with your cars GPS, but that is not available. You try to use the cheap phone to find out where you are (stoically ignoring the fact that it unlocks just fine with your fingerprint) but the only thing you find is that whoever owns the device has not paid for mobile data. You are offline. You could, of course, ask someone, but it takes some courage to ask a stranger where you are, especially in your current state.

Finally, you realize that you have to ask someone if you want to get home anytime soon. Right now, you find yourself in front of a landfill, which is both a blessing and a curse. It smells absolutely disgusting, but at least the people working here should have a good idea on how you can get home.

You enter the building with the grimy walls and look around.

"Hello?", you ask into the empty room. You are just about to leave again, when a burly man comes from the back. He is at least a head taller than you and twice as broad. His clothing is dirty, and you can see tufts of body hair coming out the top of his shirt and his armpits. Absolutely revolting.

The man looks at you for a second before shrugging his shoulder.

"Whatever." he says. "What's your name, kid?"

Needless to say, you are confused. "I am Jameson Pierce. Could you please..."

However, the big man interrupts you again. "Fancy name. I'll call you Jerry, okay? Come with me, I'll show you around."

"Wh-what do you mean?", you stutter but follow the man automatically.

"You're the new hire, aren't you? Gotta say, you're pretty scrawny, Jerry. But the job has no requirements, so if you don't mind getting your hands dirty, you're gonna fit in fine. Here are the lockers. The name's Hank, by the way."

You look around. You are in a room with a dozen dirty lockers. There is a foul stench everywhere and you have to suppress the urge to gag.

"No, I'm not new here. And I don't want to work here, or get my hands dirty!" you protest, but Hank ignores your lamenting.

"It's not gonna be easy finding an overall in your size, but we have a few small ones here as well. By the way, the overalls are shared with the other boys, hope you don't mind. Ah here. Try this one."

Hank throws you an overall. It is, in theory, blue, but both your nose as well as your eyes tell you one thing: It is entirely unwashed. For days, possibly for weeks. The clothing reeks of sweat, dirt, piss and probably even more things that you don't even want to know about.

"What's wrong with you? I am not gonna wear that."

"Well, what did you think when you came here?" Hank is clearly amused. "You can't work in these clothes of yours, even if they are dirty enough. Come on, strip, while I look for boots."

"I won't do that." you say. However, Hank is already gone. You don't think about it too much and begin to take off your expensive clothes. It is almost painful, but for some reason you... have to? It's a difficult to describe feeling. The dirty blue overall is sitting next to you on the locker room bench and is almost inviting you. You can't help it. You just have to strip. Soon, you stand in the dirty locker room clad in only your silk boxer shorts. You didn't notice that every piece of clothing you have taken off somehow changed. Your expensive dress shirt became a cheap t-shirt with stains on it. Your pants turned into a pair of ripped jeans and your golden wrist watch just... vanished.

"If I were you, I would be going commando." Hank, who had returned with a pair of work boots you can smell from over there, comments. "You're going to move around a lot. Besides, all the boys are doing it.

You look at the overall again, almost gagging now. Some other guys have worn it, rubbing their bare asses and dicks into the fabric. And Hank expects you to do the same. Suddenly, you remember the smell. Sweat, piss and other smells. You shudder. You shudder in... anticipation? As you automatically lower your boxer shorts (who turn into plain cotton briefs as you do), you can feel yourself growing hard at the thought of stepping into this dirty overall. At the same time, you are disgusted beyond measure.

Still, it's almost like your arms are on auto-pilot as you step into the overall and pull it up around your naked body, until the disgusting smell envelops you.

"Glad you like it." Hank grins and playfully grabs your very obvious erection through the dirty fabric. "You might want to meet up with some of the boys here in the locker room after shift, I hear some of them need to release some steam after a good shift. Now, come on. Pull the boots and get moving, we don't have time to waste."

You stare blankly at the big man as you realize what he just said.

"Wait." you stutter. "You think... You think I'm..."

"You're gay." Hank interrupts. "No worries. A lot of the boys are."

You can't believe what he's saying. Gay? You?

"But I am not!"

Hank doesn't even seem surprised.

"You might want to tell that to your hard cock. Anyway. Boots."

He tosses the dirty boots in front of you, and you find yourself bending down to pull them up. They are a little bit too large and feel like they are made of rubber, not leather. As soon as you have both of them on, Hank nods approvingly and then grabs you by the arm, pulling you out of the locker room and towards the garbage truck.

The next few hours pass quickly. The other men (it seems the job has exclusively male company) are friendly but don't go easy on the "newcomer". Everybody calls you Jerry and you have to do the most disgusting work you have ever done: Hauling full bins to the truck, sorting through garbage, cleaning up spilled garbage from the streets. Still, nobody is complaining and so you don't, either. After all, there are more pressing concerns: You feel dirty, your whole body is covered in a thick layer of sweat and dust. Your hands are filthy, and so is your face. And the worst part of it all is: A part of you is enjoying it, a lot. At first, the part is strictly physical. You have a boner pretty much the whole time, and whenever you need to do something especially disgusting, it visibly and violently throbs against your work pants - a fact that doesn't escape the rest of the boys.

After a while, though, more changes set in. The full bins appear to become lighter and easier to move. Of course, that isn't the case: Your muscles grow in front of your eyes, and the overall, that was a bit too big, fits better and better. Hair starts to grow on your chest, your legs and arms, and stubble forms in your face. Your carefully maintained hairstyle dissolves into an unkempt mess on your head.

But the changes don't stop there. Overall, you feel like you are getting more and more youthful. You weren't terribly old to begin with, in your mid-thirties, but a strange energy makes you feel more like end-twenties, mid-twenties and finally, like a man who just turned 21.

At the same time, however, your personality changes as well. You start to talk less and less, and when you do, the words aren't quite as sharp as before. Your education slips away with every word you say, and your vocabulary is replaced by slang, often with a bit of swearing. It becomes more and more difficult to think, too. The boys quickly pick up on this and joke around you not being the sharpest. It's not that they're wrong. You're dumb, if you're being honest. School wasn't for you, so you dropped out at some point. Bit by bit, you really become Jerry, the dumb, sweaty, smelly garbageman. And Jerry, unlike Jameson, enjoys the dirt around him. You can hardly remember being a clean and smart businessman, and that's alright with you. Even though your thoughts are slower, however, the memories of your former self are not gone entirely. Every once in a while, you remember who you used to be. But at the latest when the shift ends and you and the rest of the horny boys are going to the locker room, you decide that this is, indeed, a simpler and a better life.

There is literally a metric ton of more pictures here, in my tip jar - variations of Jerry at the end. If you like my writing, consider joining the riot page for a tip (and ocassional additional pictures)

[jockifyme]

The Haunted House

Jake didn’t really understand why his girlfriend was obsessed with their university’s haunted fall fair. But he loved her, and so when she wanted to go, he begged his boss at the firm to give him the day off. Given his success at the company, his boss obliged, and that’s how Jake found himself back on campus. And while work was stressful, being back and walking around with his girlfriend was nice. They spent the day walking by their old dorm room, reflecting on where they met. They walked past all the new construction sites where the campus was expanding, joking that the only constant on this campus was construction. And when they got to the haunted fair, Jake couldn’t help but smile at his girlfriend’s excitement. Just like every year, there were plenty of attractions. But what caught their eye was a large wooden haunted house.

“Scariest experience you’ll ever have.” Jake read the small plaque next to the entrance. He smirked at his girlfriend and said, “You wanna give it a try?”

Sarah shook her head, “No way, let’s just go paint some pumpkins or something.”

Jake chuckled, “C’mon, it’s a haunted fair. Can’t come all the way here and not get a little spooked.”

“You’re more than welcome to show off what a big brave man you are.” Sarah teased, “I’m happy waiting.”

“Yeah, well if you insist.” The brunette replied, taking note of the rowdy construction workers making their way through the fair, “But I’d rather be in there than listen to them.”

Sarah frowned, “They’re just having fun. Now hurry up... or are you just stalling? Afraid, maybe?”

Jake grinned- he wasn’t about to let himself be teased like that. He gave her a nod and without another word, he made his way up the ramp and into the haunted house. Once inside, Jake scrunched his nose at the smell. It smelled like his great grandmother’s house. But so far, nothing scary. He walked through the dark corridors slowly, the wood beneath him creaking with each step. And just as he was feeling reassured that this was lame, Jake jumped when the candles on the walls ignited and he came face to face with a full-body mirror.

“Nothing scary about that.” Jake reassured himself, grinning at his own reflection.

He made a turn and found himself in a new room. A room filled with full-body mirrors. Still nothing too scary. As he made his way through the maze of mirrors, he couldn’t help but notice something off about his reflections. As he passed a mirror, he noticed that it had him wearing a flannel top, workpants, and work boots- items of clothing he never possessed. He chuckled, writing it off as some type of fun mirrors. But as he kept going, he couldn’t help but notice his reflection changing—becoming a bit chubbier, a bit hairier—almost looking like the men on the construction site. Jake chuckled. He had to admit that that was a scary thought. He liked his office job and the idea of moving from construction site to construction site and never settling down was something he couldn’t imagine. As he continued though, the images in the mirror were becoming even stranger. In one image, his altered form received a failing grade on a test- then another, and another. Then he dropped out of college entirely, finding a job at the local construction site. And as he walked down the hall of mirrors, each seemed to reflect a story of a life Jake would dread. But it got even stranger. As Jake looked into another mirror, he saw his altered form on his knees, vigorously sucking off another man.

“What the fuck?” Jake said, raising an eyebrow. Sure, he had to admit that the visual effects were impressive, but this image was too much. As Jake went to turn though, he noticed that the figure in the mirror, seemed to turn towards him, smirking. And to Jake’s confusion, he could taste something salty in the back of his throat- and for a split second it became difficult to breath.

Jake shuddered and turned away from the mirror. He ran through the hall of mirrors, feeling his way through the increasingly more complex maze. And suddenly, Jake found himself trapped in an opening- surrounded by mirrors on all sides. He pounded on them, trying to get out- to find a way out of the maze. But there was none. He stood in the center of the mirrors, feeling defeated. And suddenly, he saw it. In the mirror was the man, staring at him with a smirk on his bearded face. The man was naked, his body on full display. Jake could appreciate the muscles the man had, albeit less toned and mixed with fat. And before Jake could do anything, the man flew from the mirror and towards the unsuspecting Jake.

Jake tried to yell, but was unable to as the man slammed into him. The ghostly form smirked and moaned as he sunk into Jake’s body. And Jake couldn’t help but moan too, falling to the ground and shaking as the ghostly form vanished into him. The young man ripped away his shirt, and his toned body began to shift and change. Jake’s body began to grow and expand, his muscles growing while also filling with fat. His toned pecs jiggled slightly, and his abs were now gone, with a slight pudge layered over them. His pits grew damp and thick with hair, causing him to scrunch his nose at the stench. He moaned more as hair sprouted from his abdomen and chest, which were growing more pale in comparison to his arms and head, as his skin took on a classic farmer’s tan.

“Gosh darn it!” Jake shouted in a heavy southern drawl as he felt an intense burning in his left forearm. He watched as an intricate ink pattern formed and a tattoo proudly carved itself into his skin.

It was at this point that Jake looked up at the mirror, watching in terror as his head and face changed. The hair on his face thickened into a nice beard, while his eyebrows grew thicker. His nose began to change, and suddenly the stench from his pits bothered him less—in fact, he thought it smelled pretty good. Jake shook his head, trying to rid himself of these thoughts, barely noticing that his brunette locks fell from his head. Soon enough, he was sporting a buzz cut, which was quickly was covered by a gray cap. In fact, his black sweatpants also shifted and changed into a pair of jeans. Jake forced himself to stand up, looking around wildly in the mirrors and down at his changed body.

“Whut happened tuh may?” He whispered in shock.

He stumbled forward, finding that the mirrors that surrounded him had opened up. An exit sign was shining brightly and Jake desperately moved towards it. He needed to find Sarah and find out what to do. But even now he was scared she wouldn’t even recognize him. He for sure barely even recognized himself. But as he got closer to the exit, he noticed a strange sign.

“Scariest experience you'll evur hav; now overcome it.” Jake read aloud, before walking forward and through the exit.

But as he walked through the exit, he froze. The images from the mirror- failing his exams, dropping out of college, going from construction site to site- all of these images flashed through his mind. And as they continued to flash, the images became memories. Jake remembered never being successful in school, giving college a try but failing even the most basic of subjects. But it was okay- he quickly became friends with the men on the construction site here, who were more than happy to offer him a job when he dropped out. Even his memories of Sarah seemed to alter- instead he remembered a man named Trevor, who seemed to take a liking to him on the site. And Jake took a liking to him as well- the memories of late night BJs and fuck sessions becoming very real in Jake’s mind. And when word spread around the construction site about Jake’s talented ass and mouth... well Jake rarely spent a night without either filled. And that was all Jake remembered now- this was his life. Jake tumbled out the exit and fell to the ground, shaking his head.

“What the hell Jackson?”

“Jackson?” Jake whispered, even his name becoming altered in his mind. He looked up to see a group of his friends from the construction site.

“Damn son, what’re you doing out here? You get a good scare in?”

Jackson smiled, not a thought behind his vacant eyes, “Ah guess it wasn't too scary. Ah had uh lottuh fun.” Jackson said, standing up. Suddenly he heard a notification on his phone- the all too familiar sound of a Grindr notification, “Mah bayud!” Jackson said quickly as the rest of the guys started to laugh.

“We aren’t judgin’, but make sure you don’t tire yourself out too much.” One of the men said with a wink.

And Jackson certainly didn’t it tire out. Later that night, as he expertly worked the dick in his mouth, he could hear a voice in the back of his head congratulating him on overcoming his fear. But Jackson didn’t have the darndest clue what the even meant.

[jockifyme]

"No, no, no, this can't be real, what is happening here?"

"Hey son, calm down. What's the matter? The other guy is fine, look, he's standing up, no need to worry,"

"No, no, you don't understand. I'm a nerd, I never wrestle. This is all just a game right, a virtual reality? How can you be so real? Why on Earth I can feel this as if it's my body?"

The referee is slightly confused. Is this kid's brain okay? The kid is seemingly gasping for air, touching his eyes as if trying to take something off from his head. This is not the first time this thing happened. For the past 4 months, some wrestlers experienced this weird hallucination or some sort, claiming that they are someone else and supposedly not in a real arena with a real opponent in front of them. But when the on-site doctor check them after their match-up, nothing's off and even the boys somehow already slipped back to their normal self. Some other incident in other sports like college football, gymnastic, tennis, basketball, even swimming also happened. One kid even stated that he was in his room playing basketball game when suddenly everything blurred and seemingly 'melted' as his surrounding changed and he popped in a stadium packed with crowd and his VR vanished into thin air. But of course not long after that, he retracted the statement and claimed that the adrenaline got to him or something while weirdly emphasizing that he is the real athlete or something. Well, no one told the kid that he's a fake right?

The wrestler jogged to talk to the referee again after some little talk with his Coach

"Sorry for my antic. My name is Casey Golden and judging from your face, I got you, huh? That's just a prank I like to pull off, you know? Been wrestling since ages ago, no way in hell I could end that dude if I never wrestle, right? Sorry if its weird, thanks ref,"

The judge only look at Casey weirdly but then decided to let this all pass. Weird, but harmless prank, right?

[jockifyme]

Economic Hockey Boys

In a small, conservative town, Alex's life was about to take an unexpected turn. He was an outsider, a creative soul who had always felt like he didn't quite belong. His colorful and artsy presentation was a stark contrast to the traditional masculinity that dominated his school, especially in the language class he shared with a group of stereotypical boys.

One of these boys was Max, a tall, athletic, and incredibly attractive member of the local hockey team. Max was the embodiment of the masculine ideal, with his chiseled jawline, strong physique, and a confident charm that made him popular among the girls and respected by the boys. Little did Alex know, but he had developed a crush on Max from the moment he saw him.

Their shared language class had been a source of both excitement and anxiety for Alex. Excitement because it allowed him to explore a new subject, but anxiety because it meant spending more time around the boys he secretly admired. Max, in particular, had caught his attention.

One day, their language teacher assigned a group project, and fate intervened to bring Alex and Max together. They found themselves in a small group along with a few other students, working on a project that required them to sit closely together in a small group room.

As they settled in to work on the project, Alex couldn't help but feel nervous sitting next to Max. His heart raced, and his palms grew sweaty. Max, perhaps sensing Alex's unease, turned to him with a friendly smile. "Hey, Alex, don't be nervous. We got this," Max said, his voice smooth as honey.

Little did Alex know, Max had a plan of his own. He subtly flexed his arm, causing a bead of sweat to glisten on his bicep. Then, as if by accident, he raised his arm to reach for a pen, allowing his armpit to come tantalizingly close to Alex's face.

Alex's heart skipped a beat as he inhaled Max's intoxicating scent. He was oblivious to the fact that Max was intentionally using this opportunity to get closer to him, to make his presence known, and to send Alex's heart racing.

But the other boys in the group knew exactly what Max was doing. They exchanged knowing glances and stifled their laughter as they watched Alex struggle to maintain his composure.

As the project continued, Alex found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Max's proximity, his scent, and the subtle but deliberate physical contact left Alex feeling dizzy with desire. Little did he know that this was just the beginning.

At the end of the lesson, Alex was dizzy and could not focus on anything but the smell. Originally, he was supposed to have an art lesson after the language lesson, but because of his foggy brain, he didn't think twice when he got the offer from the other boys. Max and the boys asked Alex if he wanted to tag along for their scheduled hockey practice. The team had made up with the school so that the members of the hockey team could practice during school hours.

Alex said yes, of course, and walked with them to the hockey arena, still dizzy but not as much. Alex's attire was a funny clash with the other boys' clean sporty look. Since Alex wore artsy and flamboyant clothes, he looked like a disco ball next to the conforming boys.

As the group and Alex finally arrived at the hockey arena, Alex started to question the situation a little bit more. Firstly, he knew nothing about sports or hockey, and he didn't even have any gear. Secondly, he was a skinny twig, not like Max, a Greek god. But he didn’t question it since he wouldn't be playing anyways

Max continued to be friendly with Alex and made Alex follow him and the boys to the locker room. In the locker room, the boys exchanged knowingly smug looks and waited for the action to begin.

They were tired of having to share their class with a walking pride flag and couldn't wait for Alex to become the extra resource they were missing on the team and in their bro-group. Max and the boys started undressing at their stations while Alex just stood there and started smelling the tasty air. Of course, a sweaty locker room filled with gear from matches played by hormone-filled 18+ boys would smell.

The boys had changed into their hockey attire and counted on Alex to poke around their "leftover" stuff. Just as they knew that when they left for practice and left Alex intoxicated by the air, Alex would start sniffing the leftover stuff and start his transformation.

Alex went from locker to locker and bench to bench, burying his face in socks and jocks, to jerseys and gloves. He got so hard he finally caved in and started to undress. All the leftover stuff he would put on to be one of the boys, the boys he envied and crushed on.

Firstly, Alex put on the used jock and felt so hot. He followed that up by covering his dainty feet in the big socks. He continued to dress up with the pants and put on the "gigantic" skates that were yellow from all the wear and tear. These definitely belonged to a player that used his full potential.

After he had laced up the skates, he put on the shin pads and the large shoulder pads. He continued to gear up with his elbow pads and his slash guards. Finally, he could put on the team-repping jersey that currently displayed a random number and name. He put on the helmet, hiding his blush-red face, and sealed off his hands with the large gloves.

Alex went over to the locker room mirror to see a pathetic boy in baggy gear. Just as Alex had the sad thought that this was stupid and that he needed to hurry before the others found him, he felt a tingle.

It first started in his feet where the once baggy socks and big skates soon filled out with rough, manly feet that had the skate methods in them. This was followed by his small legs growing larger, his calves exploded from the practices they had been through, and the changes just kept going up. His thighs became big and well-trained.

Alex's torso cramped before its fat disappeared, leaving rock-hard abs and a mesmerizingly good physique. Alex's once nonexistent pecs quickly hardened, and he started to fill in the gear well. The once large jersey, pants, and guards now fitted him perfectly, protecting him at all costs. Next up were his twig arms contrasting his currently good build. Alex's arms exploded with muscles, and you could see that he was clearly right-handed since he had used that hand for the hockey stick. The changes tracked to Alex's hands that juiced out, hands became hard and full of energy.

The changes took Alex's back and made a landscape of muscles, made his nether region grow and fill out the now small jock cup, and made his flat ass round up from all the practices in the sport.

Last but not least was Alex's average face. His rounded jaw became as sharp as a knife, emitting the peak of masculinity. Alex's nose bridge became broken and healed in an instant, caused by all the sport injuries. Alex's eyes narrowed and became focused and quick. Alex's once playful hair straightened into a simple middle part just like the rest of the boys. Lastly, in the transformation, the musk from all the "forgotten" clothes was absorbed by Alex, and this made him finally conform now that his brain was changed.

He wasn't Alex the artsy freak; he was a hockey bro, a confident chick magnet with a killer body. He was Alex the economic dude who always reeked from his pits.

The real world conformed to these changes, and gone was the old Alex. With this, the jersey he wore changed into Alex Benson and his number.

The team came back from practice, not knowing the old Alex, just the new. The only one who knew was Max.

 "Alex, bro, let's change after practice; you stink, dude. 

Hehe, bro, I went all out on the ice, you know me."

No more were Alex's old clothes. Instead, before him in his "new" locker, laid gray sweatpants, a fresh hockey hoodie, a black cap, a chain, and his shoes and socks—the attire of a real man.

(Comment if i should make a part 2?)

[jockifyme]

New Crew

Another busy morning in Austin, Texas, with commuters rushing to get to the office with what little time they have left. Among them is Joseph, a successful salesman, on the usual route to his high-rise office. Joseph prides himself on his degree of sophistication and elegance, dressed in a tailored suit and strolling confidently with his expensive coffee cup in hand, savoring every sip of the meticulously crafted and smooth brew. The breeze dances down the street and weaves in between the buildings, giving Joseph some respite from the heat but also threatening to knock a few hairs out of place.

Along his path, he spots a new construction site. “Probably another hotel,” he thinks to himself. As he approaches the site, the sounds get louder; the sharp strikes of a jackhammer breaking up concrete and men yelling at each in Spanish isn’t exactly what Joseph wants to hear at 8:45 in the morning. Annoyed, he continues walking, noticing the group of laborers hard at work, sweat glistening on their foreheads as they dig and hammer away. Wearing ear protection and on a tight timeline to finish the project, the workers are mostly oblivious to their surroundings and laser focused on the job.

Among the workers is a young Latino construction worker, who happens to be shoveling dirt right alongside the path Joseph is walking. Engrossed in his task, the worker unintentionally swings a shovel full of dirt right in Joseph's direction, and the passing breeze picks up the dirt, smattering Joseph's tailored suit and white button up brown.

Fuming with anger and nearly late for work, Joseph halts abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he confronts the worker responsible. "Hey! Watch where you're aiming that thing!" he snaps, his frustration evident in his tone.

As Joseph reprimands the worker and disregards his apology, he can't help but notice an older burly Latino worker watching him intently from a distance. The man's dark eyes seemed to bore into Joseph's soul, an intensity that unsettles him. Hearing warning bells in his head, Joseph brushes off the dirt as best as he can and tries to continue on his way.

However, the burly worker has other plans. As Joseph approaches, and with a sudden movement, he steps into Joseph's path, blocking his way. "Excuse me," Joseph huffs, attempting to sidestep the man and continue on his way. However, before he can take even another step, the man's hand shoots out and firmly grips Joseph's arm, pulling him back. Joseph tries to shake free, but the worker's grip on his arm is firm, and before he can react, a white hard hat, like the entirety of the construction crew is wearing, is placed forcefully on his head. Confusion and panic washes over Joseph as he staggers back, his vision blurring, and his surroundings spinning like a chaotic whirlwind.

Dizzy and disoriented, Joseph's heart pounds in his chest as he hunches over, trying to steady himself. He can feel something inexplicably changing within him, a sensation he can't comprehend or control.

Though his vision comes in and out of focus, Joseph swears he sees his suit jacket shimmer in the light, there one moment and gone the next. He starts to feel the breeze on his arms, and he can see the white of his button up retracting up his arms, eventually settling into the form of a tank top, the material changing next into a thin, ribbed material rife with splotches of dirt. His creased slacks ripple, transforming into dirty and stiff blue jeans, and his polished dress shoes morph into worn-out work boots, the leather going from delicate to thick and protective.

The breeze he felt earlier as a mere annoyance now feels different, beating against his bare arms as they pack on muscle: His shoulders broaden under the straps of the tank, his once slender frame being sculpted anew. Veins snake down his arms as his biceps and triceps grow in prominence, giving his newly burly arms an enviable sculpted and rounded appearance.

Under the jeans, his legs follow suit. His calves explode with growth, going from their thin and unremarkable lankiness to two solid columns of muscle. At the same time, his thighs pack on muscle. Still hunched over and steadying himself, he feels his quads bulge against his skin, the well-defined muscles able to be seen with every movement of Joseph's legs.

Still planted on his thighs, Joseph's hands, once soft and manicured, roughen and callous from years of manual labor. He can feel his body continue to change, bulking up with newfound strength and stamina. His chest expands, pecs forming two solid mounds of muscle, and his stomach ripples as his abs emerge from under what used to be a slightly overweight physique caused by years of sitting at a desk.

His skin darkens from its pallid shade to a rich bronze, matching that of his new coworkers. His lips plumpen, and his once blue eyes turn a deep, warm brown in a matter of blinks. As his eyes darken, so does his hair, going from chestnut to black and beginning to retract into his head. The tugging sensation continues until Joseph is left with a utilitarian buzzcut, the bristles tickling against the hard hat. The tickling sensation continues as stubble emerges along his newly chiseled jawline. The transformation spread like wildfire, reshaping his very identity, and with it, his thoughts as well. The panicked thoughts rushing through his mind in English suddenly shift to Spanish—his former mother tongue gone in an instant.

As the metamorphosis comes to an end, Joseph straightens up, taking in his new form with a mix of shock and disbelief. He was no longer the lanky and somewhat soft salesman he once was, but a burly and solid Latino construction worker, akin to those who surrounded him.

"Qué me hiciste?" (What did you do to me?) Joseph asks in Spanish, his voice now unfamiliar to his own ears.

The burly worker who had placed the hard hat on his head chuckles heartily and calls over the rest of the crew to greet their new member. As the men approach, Joseph wants to run, to escape this place and this life that seems to be forcing itself on him, but his body doesn't move. As each worker shakes his hand and gave him a warm pat on the back, Joseph feels his old life slipping away, his memories fading like a distant dream. By the final pat on the back, he can only remember his new life as if it had always been his reality.

With the rest of the crew heading back to their tasks, Joseph stands there, his muscular frame seemingly suspended in air, the only movement his massive chest rising and falling. Inside, his mind is working to thread everything together: his life, his family, his job, his name. The burly man returns, shovel in hand. He smacks Joseph on the helmet lightly, snapping the man out of his daze.

"José, el descanso ha terminado, vuelve al trabajo." (José, break's over, back to work)

José.

"Dale," (Okay) José says as he takes the shovel from his boss, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his other hand. He joins his coworker, Miguel, in digging out the foundation near the sidewalk, the stream of commuters finally starting to thin. As he scoops his first shovelful of dirt, he notices a man wearing a nice-looking navy suit and tie approaching. José is careful to toss the dirt low to the ground, avoiding it potentially getting caught by the wind. He nods at the man as he passes, who responds with a soft smile before refocusing on his stride.

[jockifyme]

The Hazing

“They did what?!” Wes yells in shock, hearing his boyfriend Cameron begin to recount his run in with the neighbourhood frat.

Wes hurriedly collected his boyfriend in his car after receiving a distressing phone call from him. They sat side by side, driving home, both processing what had happened. Despite Wes's earnest attempts to focus on his boyfriend, he couldn't ignore the overpowering, unpleasant odor emanating from Cameron.

"They came out of nowhere, Wes," Cameron's voice quivered, his eyes still wide with shock. "They taunted me, telling me that I needed to become a REAL man, and then... they held me down. One of the younger frat bros… he slipped down his tracksuit and sat on my face."

Wes felt his blood boil, his grip on the wheel tightening.

"And then... then the boy farted... right up my nose," Cameron revealed, ashamed that his cock was stiffening at the memory.

Wes recoiled, the stench now making sense. “You think it was a frat initiation thing? That it was a hazing ritual or something?” Wes asked, trying to make sense of the whole ordeal.

“I don’t know, bro.” Cameron’s eyes shoot open, shocked by the word that came out of his mouth. “I mean, babe.”

As they sped away from the scene, the foul smell seemed to intensify, infiltrating the car and assaulting their senses. The once crisp and fresh air now transformed into a suffocating cloud of hot gas, encasing them within its repugnant grip.

Cameron hides his bulge that for some reason seemed to be hardening from the stench. “Let’s just go home and we can-PFFTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT”

Cameron's face flushed with embarrassment as he apologized for sudden lack of manners. However, his apology was abruptly cut short when an unusual tingling sensation coursed through his body. He glanced downward, his eyes widening in disbelief as he witnessed his chest expanding, bulging beneath his shirt, his pecs turning into two massive jiggling water balloon-like globes.

Meanwhile, Wes remained unaware as he focused on the road, his eyes watering from Cameron’s fart which added to the overall stench in the car. “Don’t worry, babe. You’ve been through a lot to- BURRRRRRRRRRRRP”

Wes was shocked by his sudden belch. He hadn’t even felt it coming. It almost disgusted him that he was starting to enjoy the fowl smell. He found himself breathing in his own stench, as it began to cloud his own thoughts. His hand reached over to instinctively rest on Cameron’s thigh, not even realising how unusually large his boyfriend’s leg felt. Before he could uncloud his thoughts from the stink, another deep, guttural belch escaped his lips, the putrid stench invading his senses with renewed intensity.

Wes's eyes widened in alarm as he glanced down at his own hands gripping the steering wheel. They were twice their normal size, resembling the powerful hands of a big smelly gorilla.

The two boyfriends began groaning and moaning in pleasure, helplessly engorged in their own hot stench. Their new bodies inflating, taking up space within the confined space of their once-delicate car. Their bodies inflated like balloons, stretching the limits of the vehicle as they swelled to enormous proportions. The car's windows strained against the expanding pressure, and the scent of the cursed stench grew even more overpowering.

The transformation left them unrecognizable, their once-human forms now grotesque and disproportionate. Their minds, clouded by their own stink, prevented them from realizing the magnitude of their metamorphosis. In their altered state, they were no longer Wes and Cameron, the romantic gay lovers. Now, they were Weston and Cam, the obnoxious new frat bro initiates at Theta Epsilon Gamma. Their minds now fixated on flexing their muscles, spending endless hours at the gym, and getting women pregnant. Deep conversations and emotional connections gave way to discussions of protein shakes, workout routines, and strategies for attracting women.

As their bodies swelled with muscle, their distorted self-perception aligned with their new jock personas. They reveled in their newfound strength, constantly flexing and admiring their own physiques in the mirror.

As the car groaned under the strain of their ballooning physiques, the road ahead remained a mystery, shrouded in uncertainty. Wes and Cam were now prisoners of their own cursed transformation, forever changed into grotesque beings trapped within the confines of their own inflated bodies. The once intimate and comfortable car became their prison, a symbol of the fate that awaited them in their grotesque jock forms.

[jockifyme]

Wrestled into conformity

Jack couldn't help but roll his eyes at the group of jocks standing ahead of him in the college hallway. Their laughter reverberated through the air as they joked and teased each other about their latest conquests. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of annoyance bubble up within him.

“Ugh, can't they just shut up for once?“ he muttered under his breath as he hurried past them with his head down, trying to avoid any interaction.

As Jack walked away, one of the jocks glanced over at him and nudged another. “Guys,“ he whispered conspiratorially, “I think it's time we initiated our little plan for ol' Jack.“

The others grinned wickedly and nodded in agreement. They all knew exactly what that entailed - transforming Jack into one of them using a slimy maroon goo they had concocted. The substance was designed to alter its victim's physical appearance while also instilling an irresistible desire to become part of their clique.

In the locker room after practice, the jocks gathered around a small container filled with the goo. It glistened ominously under the fluorescent lights as they stirred and examined it closely.

“This stuff is potent,“ one remarked cautiously. “Are we sure we want to do this?“

Another laughed dismissively, confidence dripping from every syllable: “What could be more fun than having Jack turn into one of us? Besides, it'll wear off eventually...probably.“

Having finalized their preparations, they set their trap by sending a text message from an unknown number to lure Jack into the locker room later that evening:

*Hey man! Come meet me in the locker room ASAP! Got something you'll definitely wanna see.*

Curiosity piqued and unaware he was walking straight into trouble; Jack made his way toward the dimly lit locker room after classes were over for the day.

Upon entering through its heavy doors, Jack paused, his eyes scanning the space suspiciously. The room was eerily silent and still; but before he could consider leaving an odd sensation began to creep up his spine.

Suddenly, the container of goo - hidden on top of a row of lockers - sprung into action. It hurtled toward Jack as if propelled by some unseen force. With no time to react, Jack found himself drenched in the slimy maroon substance.

Gasping and sputtering from surprise and disgust, Jack tried to wipe the goo from his face. But it seemed as if the more he touched it -- attempting to remove it -- the more persistent it became in melting away his clothes and covering every inch of him.

The goo soon began to solidify around him, morphing into a tight wrestling singlet that clung uncomfortably to his skin. Panic set in as Jack felt his body start transforming beneath its grip: muscles bulging where there had been none before, shoulders broadening with previously unattainable strength.

“What is happening?!“ he shouted aloud, desperately clawing at the fabric encasing him but finding no relief from its relentless hold.

In that moment of sheer panic and confusion; a voice cut through Jack's panicked thoughts like a knife:

“Welcome to your new life,“ one of the jocks called out mockingly from just beyond the locker room door—a place they'd been watching their plan unfold all along.

Tears blurred Jack's vision as realization dawned — what had begun as simple annoyance towards these people had now escalated into something far worse…a nightmare turned reality that would haunt him for who knew how long?

But even amidst this living hell; rage bubbled within him — refusing to be quelled or ignored any longer. He knew that somehow…someway…he would find a way out of this wretched predicament…and when he did?

They would pay dearly for what they had done.

Jack stared at his trembling reflection in the mirror. He couldn't believe what was happening to him. As he gaped, transfixed by the changes occurring before him, beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

His once lean chest began to swell and harden into a set of powerful pecs, accompanied by abs that appeared one after another like cobblestones on a long-forgotten path. The muscles in his arms and legs tightened as they turned from slender limbs into rippling sinewy appendages worthy of a champion wrestler.

A wave of fear washed over Jack's face as he tried to comprehend these horrifying alterations. Jack knew this was only a game to the jocks who stood behind him grinning eagerly, knowing that anything they did was just a temporary joke. But deep down, some part of him feared becoming someone else entirely.

As if on cue, dark curls sprouted from his formerly straight brown hair as it darkened further – matching the intensity growing within him. His past interests evaporated like morning dew under the sun's merciless glare; working out, wrestling techniques and strategies now consumed every waking thought.

Jack shook his head vigorously; this wasn't who he wanted to be! But even as he struggled against these mental transformations, pressure built around his butt region making it expand before tightening back up again - firm and toned.

Gasping for air, Jack felt an odd sensation enveloping his crotch area. It almost felt like an invisible hand massaging him through the singlet that adorned his body – causing both discomfort yet relaxation simultaneously.

In moments when fear subsided enough for rational thinking to take control momentarily. As if having its own malicious intent, the singlet seemed determined to force straight desires into Jack's mind – powerful images invading his thoughts without permission or warning. This unwelcome invasion was utterly overwhelming for someone who had spent years embracing their true identity as a gay man. Jack noticed how fantasies - which used to involve other men - were replaced with women instead. His mind focused on bouncy boobs, delicate bodies of the female form, and tight pussies firmly entwined with his new jackhammer, exploding them both in pleasure. 

Jack tried desperately to cling onto what little control he had left over himself as feelings of pleasure washed over him like crashing waves upon a shore. The internal battle waged on relentlessly within; torn between giving in entirely or maintaining some semblance of resistance.

The massaging in his crotch intensified. He couldn't tell if it was just his dick getting erect or if it was also growing in size. All he knew was, that with each stroke from the tight fabric, as more memories were taken from him, he became increasingly consumed by a sense of overpowering masculinity and arrogance, which began to overshadow his true personality.

Glimpses of past experiences flashed through Jack's mind; Jocks mocking him for being different or hurling slurs at him out of ignorance.  As he relaxed, each memory of these memories became twisted, instead of him being the but of each joke or slur, he became the one hurling them. A mischievous grin grew on his face as he saw these memories as nothing but fun. 

Jack's once dramatic and flamboyant self had vanished into thin air, supplanted by a more assertive and confident wrestling personality. Despite fighting mentally against these changes and desires for so long—as if trying desperately to hold onto some semblance of his old identity he couldn't resist the power of the pleasure in his crotch. Jack's head tilted back, his hands at his side as the fabric rubbed his python. Jack's mind was focused on a busty blonde bouncing on his dick, harder and harder, each bounce in sync with the fabric rubbing at his dick. It felt so real, and with each bounce, he could feel it coming, he could feel... 

"Fuck Brah!!!" he yelled as his dick splurged cum into the singlet, which quickly absorbed it up. The dam of resistance in his mind finally broke. Jack's mind was flooded with his new wrestler life, unable to even surrender as he drowned in new experiences, interests and friends. And so, lost within this whirlpool of conflict and pleasure - surrounded by darkness both literal and metaphorical - Jack finally succumbed.

And so it was that Jack found himself at the gym early morning every day – pumping iron and practicing grappling techniques with anyone willing to spar. The world beyond those walls seemed distant now; filled with things that once mattered but were now mere echoes of a past life.

His newfound friends shared in the same interests: bulking up and honing their skills for future wrestling battles. They would often meet after practice to share insights on improving performance or simply bask in each other’s camaraderie.

As weeks turned into months, Jack continued to excel in wrestling competitions – fulfilling dreams he never thought he would've had before. But with his new bros, a successful college career in wrestling, and a near-endless swarm of sorority chicks lining up for some action, Jack was unstoppable. 

[jockifyme]

Normally wearing a pair of football cleats is enough to make me experience what it would be like to be a jock, maybe even drinking a beer along side my orgasm

But if only there was more, a better way to experience the life of a jock

Could u help?

You eagerly examined the card I had sent you, your heart racing with excitement and apprehension as you contemplated exploring the mysterious shop across the street. After summoning your courage, you crossed the road and entered the establishment, which appeared to be high-tech and entirely automated, with no human staff in sight. Following the store's directions, you made your way to the back of the shop and pulled aside a curtain to reveal a hidden corridor flanked by cubicles. Stepping into the first cubicle you encountered, you found it sparsely furnished with only a mirror and some hangers. As you drew the curtain closed behind you, your heart pounded with both anticipation and trepidation. You knew that this place would enable you to experience your deepest desires, but you also couldn't predict what it might do to you. Nonetheless, you whispered under your breath, "I want to be a football jock."

A few moments passed and nothing happened. A part of you felt relieved from the stress, another part felt disappointed. But as you stood up to leave, a massive silver door slammed shut, locking you inside. Arms emerged from the walls, ceiling, and floor, immobilizing you. At first, you felt nothing but fear as the arms ripped off your clothes, leaving you exposed to a cold breeze that enveloped your skin.

More arms appeared, holding injectors. Despite your panic, you reminded yourself that this was all part of the process, although you weren't sure what to expect. Gritting your teeth you embraced the sharp pain as the needles pierced your skin, before injecting their mysterious contents into your bloodstream. A feeling of numbness spread out through your legs and arms, before your stomach and chest lost all feeling too. But it didn't last long. A slight tingling sensation ensued, rapidly intensifying into pure pleasure. The fear of the unknown transformed into blissful ignorance.

You looked at yourself in the mirror again, taking in the sight of your body. Unease seized you as a huge belly ballooned, and your pecs sagged as they expanded. You wanted to clench your ass as it grew more prominent, while your arms and legs became heavier, thickening with muscle. You felt so confused, this wasn’t what you had wanted?

But as quickly as you began to doubt, the fat changed. Your bloated belly retracted, replaced with muscle, which molded into a tight six-pack. Your chest grew more defined, and your once saggy breasts became firm, jutting out above your six-pack. Your ass tightened as it became firmer, forming a large but hard bubble butt. Your thighs and calves became thick and muscular from vigorous workouts and running about on the field. The arms holding you then forced you to flex, showing off your bi’s and tri’s, which looked powerful and muscular.

You couldn’t believe what you saw, you looked back to the mirror to see your face changing too. Your face became more square-like, with sharp, prominent features. Any facial hair vanished, leaving your cheeks clean and smooth, while your eyebrows grew thick and furry. Your unkept hair fell in clumps to the floor as a razor breezed through it, shortening it into a cute, jock cut. As your face softened in texture, the years were turned back as the bags under your eyes vanished and the lines in your head melted away. You looked 18 again. 

Suddenly the arms came out with clothes and began redressing you in different attire. First was a jock strap and some long sports socks, then football trousers and a black football shirt. It all fits snugly on your new thicker frame. The arms then bring out the football armor and plop it over your head and on top of your body. The weight feels great over your body, feeling like an actual football player. Your feet slide into a pair of Nike football cleats, which elevates your height by a few inches, adding to the feeling of being a football jock.

The arms lightened their grip on you, letting you flex your new muscles. You were in awe at what had happened to you. You felt like a young athletic jock, in a football uniform, this would be a great experience for you. However, you weren’t done yet.

What looked like a VR headset suddenly came down and was placed over your head. You were excited at what else it had to offer you. The screen came on and it played lots of clips of football. You couldn’t quite tell what this was for, and the footage seemed to have no effect so far. Then a pair of headphones coddled your ears, blocking out any noise. A deep masculine voice of a young football coach then started to talk, you found his voice soothing and his words hypnotic, as you watched the video.

“Stop thinking, just watch and listen to my words. Imagine yourself on the field, the sun beating down on your skin, the grass beneath your feet. You can hear the roar of the crowd as you step onto the turf. You feel the weight of the ball in your hands, and suddenly you know exactly what to do. Your body moves with a grace and power you never knew you possessed. Every muscle is engaged, every sense heightened. You are a football jock, and you feel unstoppable.”

As you stood there, the words and the clips began to blur together, melting into your brain. Your thoughts ceased, any plans or ideas you had vanished, your recent memories twisted and contorted becoming unrecognizable, and you found your intelligence slipping. Your eyes grew heavy and slipped in and out of closing. You tried to hold on… hold on to… everything was slow now, and without a fight, your eyes shut.

—-------------------------------------------------------- 

“Bro, wake up,” You were jolted awake as a pair of hands began slapping your cheeks. You opened your eyes, and found you were in a locker room now, and a young and hunky jock was slapping you.

“Bro, you’re gonna be late for practice, Coach won’t forgive you if we lose on the big on friday,” he explained. Despite only waking up and feeling disoriented, you felt an urgency inside you to please Coach. You got up and followed him out. You were in a high school, probably mid western. You still had the same body from… from… 

You could barely remember anything from before, only the hypnosis, the body growth, and the experience. Was that what this was, some simulated experience of what it felt like to be a jock. You left to go to the field and began practice.

As you ran across the field, sweat pouring down your face, you felt your old life slipping away. The stresses of your job, the worries of your personal life, all of it seemed so distant and unimportant now. The only thing that mattered was the game. You felt your body moving with a fluidity and strength you had never experienced before. Every pass, every catch, every touchdown felt like a victory. You were becoming something new, something better, and you knew he could never go back. As the sun set behind the bleachers, you stood in the endzone, looking out at the empty field. You felt a sense of peace wash over you. This was where you belonged. This was a good life, but you remembered it was only an experience. 

The bro from earlier led you straight to the house party after practice. As you arrived at the house party, you felt a sense of familiarity wash over you , like you had been to countless similar gatherings before. Your mind tried to tell you that this was all just from the experience from the shop, you never socialized or drank much, and you had always been interested in looking at football players, rather than cheerleaders. But as you mingled with the crowd, you found yourself effortlessly slipping into conversations about sports, girls, and parties, just like any other high school jock. Memories of past victories and wild nights flooded your mind, and you reveled in the attention and admiration you received from your peers. 

The music pounded, and the alcohol flowed, and soon you were the life of the party, leading the cheers and high-fiving your buddies. As you drank more, you forgot more of your memories, ever being shy and quiet, you could only think as you were. The line between this being just a fake simulation and reality blurred. You felt like you had been reborn as a high school jock, and you embraced this new identity. You started to act and think just like them, losing touch with your old self. 

You spotted a group of cheerleaders across the room, and your eyes locked onto one of them. You couldn't explain it, but he felt like he knew her. You approached her and started a conversation effortlessly, making her laugh and feel at ease. Your mind tried to tell you that this wasn’t normal, and yet the more you looked at her the more attracted to her you became. Eventually, you put any thought of being gay behind you, and embraced being the straight jock you were. You found yourself flirting with her more and more, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and adrenaline rush through you.

As the night wore on, all recollection of your past life began to fade away. You couldn't recall anything about the shop or the growth. It became clear to you that this was no simulation, and the only thing that remained was the knowledge that you were a talented football jock, and that you loved it. The dreamlike quality of your surroundings had dissipated, leaving you feeling more grounded in reality. You were now living in a perfect world where you were adored by all, and it felt like exactly where you belonged. As you walked out of the party with the cheerleader on your arm, you couldn't help but feel like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

[jockifyme]

A Swap In The Night

(Fuck you it’s a good title.)

It was pretty late out… around 2 am, but that was normal for me. I was a closing manager at a store… or well I was just a normal manager the others just stuck me with shit schedules that made me close about every night. It was pretty damn annoying to say the least… The worst part of it though? They always stuck me with the worst employees. Most days it was just me and this one kid… Bryce.

He was annoying and pretty dumb all things considered, acted like a total douche. Guess he’d call it having fun on the job but it was just so god damned annoying! We had almost nothing in common but he’d love to stop by my office for “chats” since no one would come at 2 god damned AM. It would just be about college, basketball, tiktok, and the frat. I knew about none of these topics so it was pretty one sided. And tonight? He was feeling a bit extra talkative.

“Hey dude!” I rolled my eyes… what could he need? “Lookin pretty low, bro. Something wrong?” He leaned on the doorway, his muscular build propping him up well as he almost posed, his hand on his crotch adjusting it in his boxers… He did this often but people didn’t seem to mind… I did though. 

“Look… Bryce, I’m not in the mood to talk to you today. So could you go back and stock the goods or something? Also again… you’re violating the dress code.” I sighed as he was wearing some athletic shorts and a jersey, just a white shirt under it. 

“Oh come on, dude! I know you wanna talk and like… I know you guys want me to wear jeans and stuff but I can’t do that all the time! You’d understand, yeah?” He tugged at his crotch again, why did I have to look? 

“Seriously Bryce, you’re gonna have to stop doing that. I don’t want to lose my job cause some kid can’t follow a simple rule.” I was still typing some reports for the other managers to follow tomorrow… of course they wouldn’t and I’d have to do it but hey… that was how it was.

Bryce walked into the office and sat down on the other chair, like he was a manager… I sighed again and looked at him. His legs were wide open and he was sitting like some stupid alpha whatever. “Bryce… what are you doing?”

“Talking to you, dude! Seem stressed, bro!” He was so smug… why?

“Well I’m not… now just… go do your job already.” He groaned and sat back a bit, using another chair as a foot rest, his tennis shoes resting there.

“Oh come on… I could invite my friends and we could hang out, make it like you’re one of the bros! We don’t do that for everyone, dude! You gotta accept that!”

“How the hell is that sweetening the deal for me? They’re your friends! They’re also just lazy assholes like you, dude.”

He groaned more and looked at me, “You know, you don’t have to be such a stick in the mud? But whatever dude, have it your way.” And with that he got up to leave, one more tug of the crotch and him bumping into my desk, his hand hovering over my water bottle for a second.

Keep reading

[jockifyme]

Graham presses his hand into the panel at the front of the water fountain, bringing his head down as he begins to slurp up the ice cold water. He looks down the hallway as he continues to drink, the building empty save for the theatre students running through the play for the third time that day. He faintly hears his cast mates half-heartedly reciting their lines as he wipes his mouth with his forearm, beginning his walk back to the theatre.

“Hey!” A gruff but familiar voice echos from behind him. Graham turns around and sees Travis, one of his classmates and probably the most popular guy at the school. Even though they were both sophomores, Travis more accurately resembles a roided up third year senior. He’s got a high faded buzzcut and a square jawed face, the quintessential meathead jock look. But from his interactions with him, Graham considers Travis a nice guy. he’s wearing their university’s wrestling uniform: a charcoal gray singlet with yellow and red stitching and the letters of the university’s city, San Ventura, plastered across the front. Underneath the letters, two humanoid shapes grapple each other.

“Uhh, what’s up, Travis?” Travis starts walking toward Graham, his wrestling shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. As he gets closer, Graham notices the beads of sweat glistening across his skin, the singlet doing very little to hide the movement of his muscles with each footfall. Graham takes a couple steps back, not looking away from Travis.

“Why are you acting so weird, dude?” Graham asks as he takes a few more back steps. Travis flashes a smile as he picks up his pace, transitioning to a jog as he continues moves closer to Graham.

Utterly freaked out, Graham turns and runs, looking over his shoulder to see that Travis has also begun to run. His heavy foot steps sounding closer to Graham with each passing second as Graham races toward the theatre.

“Dude, stop! What the hell?!” With the door to the theatre in sight, Graham pushes his body, trying to get his legs to move faster, but as he begins to reach out his arm, two sweaty, burly arms grab his around the waist and swing him backwards, away from the door.

“Let me go! This isn’t fucking funny!” Graham tries to writhe himself free, but he’s no match for Travis’s hold on him. The jock drags him to a door down the hall from the theatre’s door, labeled, “Men’s Locker Room.” He kicks the door a couple times, maintaining his grip on Graham, entering the locker room as it’s opened by two of his teammates. The other two jocks watch as Travis drags the puny theatre nerd into the dark room, pinning him against a row of lockers.

“Get the gear,” Travis says calmly to one of the jocks. Graham renews his struggle as he sees one of the jocks, one he doesn’t recognize, reach into a gym bag and pull out a set of yellow wrestling headgear. The third jock that had been standing there joins Travis in holding Graham in place as Travis slowly releases his grip on him.

“Please stop,” Graham says exasperated, tired from his near constant struggling since Travis first grabbed him. Travis takes the headgear in his hands as the jock that fetched it now joins in on the “pin Graham to the lockers” game. Their muscles glisten in the low-light locker room, both of them dressed in the same singlet as Travis, with short-cut hairstyles that Graham guesses is so no one can grab it while wrestling. Travis pulls a few straps on the headgear, loosening it up while inspecting Graham’s puny frame. The small theatre nerd looks like a stick figure next to his two teammates. He’s wearing a T-shirt with the university’s drama club’s logo on the front, and his blue jeans hang off his skinny legs. A pair of dirty vans cover his feet, recently scuffed from trying to escape Travis’s grasp not too long ago. He’s got long brown hair, curly and unkempt—not good for wrestling.

With the headgear straps loosened up, Travis takes the foam headgear and positions it over Graham’s head.

“Dude, what are you doing?!” Weirded out and without a response, Graham decides to let this play out so he can get out.

Travis methodically fastens the straps around Graham’s head. Graham feels as Travis’s hands reach around and tighten two straps running across the back of his head, one across the crown, and one running across the top of his forehead. The straps press against his skin, and with the tightness, his sense of hearing is muffled. He looks up as Travis nods at the two jocks on either side of him. They release him, letting him stand on his own.

He takes a breath as he plans to make a break for it, and he goes for it. But, his body does not follow. Instead, he walks over to the open gym bag that the jock grabbed the headgear from in the first place. He reaches inside, and against his will, he pulls out a singlet. He tosses it on the metal bench in front of the lockers as he begins to undress. Blushing furiously, he lifts his t-shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. Next, he steps out of his shorts, revealing his baggy boxers underneath. He sits on the bench and bends over to plop off his socks and shoes. Almost fully undressed, he finds himself breathing shallower. He looks down to see his body is covered in sweat. Travis smirks at him as Graham’s body turns to grab the singlet. With it in hand, he pulls down his boxers and steps out of them. Utterly mortified, Graham body shakes the singlet out. Holding by the straps, he steps into it and shimmies it up his body, the sweat from his body being absorbed into the fabric as it makes its way up his body. The singlet had definitely seen the mat many times before, with the pungent odor of sweat and must quickly filling his nostrils, making him dizzy. He mindlessly readjusts his enlarged dick in the tight fabric as he turns back to the bag. He sits back down again and pulls out a pair of black socks and black adidas wrestling shoes. As he’s putting on the socks, his breathing changes. He begins to instinctively take deeper breaths, pushing against the almost constrictive spandex, with each breath feeling like his lungs are getting bigger, taking in more oxygen.

Travis and the two jocks watch as Graham begins to grow before their eyes. As he pulls the socks over his feet, they lengthen, pushing further and further into the sock. His legs do the same, growing in the length and definition—his calves pop out as his thighs begin to show some shred. Underneath the singlet, the three can see Graham’s pecs billow, straining against the fabric of the singlet. His arms are next, growing similar to the arms that grabbed him only a few minutes ago. His biceps and deltoids pack on muscle, crucial for taking down opponents on the mat. His hands thicken as he begins to tie his shoes, losing their delicacy and growing to grapple.

Graham feels like crying, but his body won’t let him. He watches in terror as his hands shake and change before his eyes as he goes to tie his new wrestling shoes. His fingers shorten and thicken, and as he ties his last shoe, he feels a tickling feeling from his head. He starts to stand, and he sees a pile of hair on the bench and floor below where he had been sitting. Travis opens one of the lockers, revealing a small mirror that had been attached to the back. Graham gasps as he sees himself: Underneath the headgear, his long hair had been reduced to a fade to match the three jocks standing in front of him. The fade is tight against his scalp on the sides, with length only on top. A tuft of hair billows out over his forehead, the only thing separating him from Travis’s military-grade buzz. He feels sick as he continues standing, and though trembling, his body reaches up and takes the last strap of the headgear, the chinstrap, in his hand. He reaches his other burly hand up and confidently tightens the strap under his chin, tightens it, and clicks it into place. With this resounding click, Graham’s vision zeroes in on his reflection in the mirror.

Travis and the other two jocks watch as Graham stares at himself in the reflection, his body twitching ever so slightly as his old personality, memories, and life are wiped. He’s gonna be one of them now: A C-student that’s riding a wrestling scholarship, spending his free time at the gym or at parties. A complete and utter-

“Bro!” Travis is snapped out of his soliloquy as Graham goes to dap him up.

“Bro!” Travis reciprocates the dap and pats his new teammate Graham on the back. “Dude we’ve gotta get outta here. The janitor’s gonna wonder why we’re still here so late after practice.”

“Fuck, dude, you’re right. Let’s get out of here.” Graham grabs his gym bag and stuffs his headgear into it. He grabs a pair of gray sweatpants from within and quickly changes into them. Following his teammates into the night and his new life as a jock.

Graham after his first (?) wrestling match, two weeks since incident.

-

Also, thank y’all so much for 1,400 followers! That’s insane. Thanks for the support of my sporadic uploads

[jockifyme]

Jockifacation

Being one of the smartest nerds in school sometimes had it perks, I mean sure most of the nerds got bullied and treated like shit by a lot of the school, especially the sports teams, but there were a few of us that were able to escape from the public humiliation that comes with being a nerd

Us top tier nerds, as I like to call us, we’re the ones that the Dean had picked to help tutor some of the more important students, like the ones who parents had made large Contributions, and the sports team, that all he really cared about, the people that really mattered.

As usual, the dean gave us nerds a heads up that a pop quiz was coming in some of the different classes we all shared with the assigned person that we’re in charge of making sure pass

The guy I was in charge of was one of the basketball players, his name was jake

He wasn’t the dumbest jock in the school, and thank god for that, I feel bad for the guy that had Brad, bro might have retard strength but also the intelligence of one.

atleast I can work with jake, might be annoying with his slow ability to grasp concepts and the constant side stories about the team, his latest conquest, how All this school work is pointless cause he’s gonna be a professional some day… etc

Jake was from a small red neck town and Texas and you could tell, he kinda stood out here in California with his accent and very little understanding of basic algebra, I guess they didn’t teach that were he’s from

it was probably around midnight when I finally got him to remember and be able to apply The Quadratic Formula, now Hopfully he can maintain it for 12 hours

“Aye bro thanks for helping me out with all this math shit, if you ever need anything partner just let me know” he said getting up to stretch

I got up to stretch too and crack my back

“I mean not unless you can make it so I don’t have to stay up late night tutoring members of the team because the dean demands it haha” i said laughing and smiling a sleepy smile at him

“Shiiiiit cuz, I got you just put this hat on” he said taking his hat off and handing it to me

“I mean thanks for the symbolic gesture but I don’t think a hat will do much” i said staring at it in my hands

“Just put it on bro, and you’ll be a part of the team” he said reaching over to guide it and place it on my head

“So is that it? Am I part of the team now haha?”

“Nah bruh, you gotta turn it backwards to start the uh, process”

“Start what process? some sort of initiati-“

I said as I felt it start

“Initiation? initially? Initials? No bro, initiation, god dam I had a brain fart for a minute there bruh haha…” I said stumbling on my words

“Bro? Bruh? What’s happening I don’t use those words!?” I thought to myself as my eyes started to glaze over

“There you go cuz, it’s starting, don’t worry, you should be a full fledged member in a few minutes, then you’ll never have to worry about tutoring again haha, the process kills quite a bit of brain cells” he said sitting back down smiling as he slowly closed his eyes

I tried to get up and take the hat off but I could barely move as I felt my mind weakening and my body was in too much pain as it reshaped it’s self to move

I could feel my thoughts get slower as my body changed more and more

“Mhmmmm b-b-bro h-help” I was able to mumble out, able to hear my voice getting lower

“Just let it take its course” Jake said not budging

My long shaggy hair got shorter and receded back into my scalp until it was short enough to fit inside the cap

My acne disappeared until my face was smooth and I could feel my face reorganizing itself, wholes appearing in my ears for some new giant fake earrings

Next was my sweatshirt I wore to hide my skinny frame dissolved into my skin as it looked like I gained 25 pounds of muscles as my arms became swole and my chest became hard with 6 pack abs from years of working out

“No that’s not right, I never spent years working out, going to the gym, I read books all the time and prepared for tests, played dnd with my nerd friends”

“Nerd friends? I don’t have those, I might skip leg day and not be on any teams but they always considered me a honorary member right?”

Next most of my jeans dissolved into my legs as my calf’s gain muscles from practicing in the gym and on the court with my fellow team mates

“Nah bruh, something about this isn’t right bro” I said standing up suddenly realizing I can move again

“But uh bruh I can’t remember what” I said taking the cap off to scratch my head

Jake looked over and jumped up looking concerned and walked over grabbing the cap

“It’s fine bro, we was just getting ready to go to a party, but the bitch hosting it sent out a text saying not to come for another hour, there was an issue getting the alcohol, we all know how much you like to drink cuz haha”

“Oh ok” I said setting down on the couch… some small part of me was screaming not to wear the cap but it was kinda stupid cause let’s be honest, I look hot wearing this cap

I put the cap back on and closed my eyes for a few seconds

I hadn’t noticed how weird I looked since my jeans weren’t exactly gone but were now Jean shorts

Didn’t matter tho cause my jeans morphed into some white shorts with a red strip to match my cap, right after that my underwear morphed into some tight American eagle pair as I felt my dick grow from 2 inches soft, to 4 soft.

“I can’t wait to go the party ima fuck so many bitches tonight” I thought to myself giggling like a dummy

Wait that isn’t right? I don’t get any bitches on my dick, no one wants to be with a small dick nerd, a 4 inch hard on is pathetic.

“Man what was that thought? I’m not a nerd! I’m a fucking jock bruh! And 4 inches being pathetic? Maybe hard, but that’s me just soft, I’m atleast 6 inches hard. never really cared to measure, chicks always seemed to love it when I fucked them, and if they think I’m small, their just fucking loose pussy bitches!” I thought to myself as I started getting hard pitching a tent

I opened my eyes to see Jake smiling at me

“Wtf you looking at bro? You gay or someshit? I mean that’s fine but just don’t try no shit with me bro” I said mean mugging him

“Nah bro, looks like you got some business to take care of, I’ll uh, be in the bathroom for a bit cuz” Jake said getting up to go to the bathroom

A small voice in my head was telling me something’s wrong, take the cap off, who wears hats inside?

But I decided there was something more pressing, and it’s in my pants

I pulled my shorts down to see my dick straining against my underwear, I pulled them down to let my dick flap out

I grabbed it to feel emence pleasure

I could feel something inside of me traveling down to my balls but I didn’t care, the pleasures were to much, felt like I’ve never jerked off before…

It only took me a few minutes for me to cum my brains out, figuratively and literally unbeknownst to my new jock brain, losing what little remains of my nerd personality, and 55 iq points, taking me down from 145 to 90.

“Fuck bro that felt great haha, i don’t know why I came so fast, must just be a fluke or something” I said to myself

Just then jake walked back outside

“Ya that happens to everyone at first when they go though the process of becoming a jock” he said smirking

“What you mean becoming a jock? I’ve always been one dude” I said a bit offended he didn’t think I’m a jock, I’ve hung out with jake for years now!

“Bro, we’re are we right now?!” Jake said throwing his hands up and looking around dramatically

“Uh my room” i said

“Ya and look at it, it’s a room for a nerd” he said looking at me with a look of annoyance on his face.

“Oh god, your right, I gotta change this shit bro, babes aren’t gonna find this attractive” i said looking horrified of my nerdy room

“Dam straight cuz, it’s ok, you just went from a nerd to a jock boy after all haha, it’s to be expected, especially with memory loss of your old life” he said with a smile on his face

“Now let’s go to a late night party” he said walking towards me throwing a arm around my shoulder and walking us towards the door

“Wait, so you’re saying I use to be a nerd? Ew what the fuck bro… is there anyway that I’m gonna turn back into a faggy ass nerd?” I said concerned

“Nah bruh, once you cum after the transformation it’s permanent, your one of us now dude, I hope you like it haha” he said laughing

“Ya I don’t really remember being a nerd but I bet that shit sucked ass compared to being a jock that can pull bitches haha, and good, I wouldn’t ever wanna go back despite what that voice in my head was crying about” i said laughing

“Oh that voice? Don’t worry about it, just like your chance to go back to your old life, it disappeared when you cummed” he said laughing smacking me on the back