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atomicwedgienerd · 7 years ago

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Big Dork on Campus

Brock had never enjoyed college. To him, there was nothing more boring then spending your time in class, or studying in the library, or working on some terribly dull project or assignment. So it should come as no surprise to anyone who knew him that he dropped out after the first semester. His parents had come him off when they heard the news. No son of theirs would be a college drop out, but after a couple of months of struggling to find a way to survive, Brock began to thrive. Brock had always been a fan of bodybuilding and had recently discovered--thanks to the internet--that there was a whole community of skinny, submissive dorks who would just pay him to be their cash dom. They worshipped him just because he had a tumblr full of hot pics of himself and would trip over themselves to fill his paypal with money whenever he asked. He had even started to sell his sweaty underwear to the most desperate of them--a wimpy computer science major from his old college who he suspected had always been obsessed with him. Well now, Brock was their jock god, lording his perfect physique over these beta losers and he had no issues taking their money. After all, he was a perfect alpha male so this was the natural order of things.

One day, after breaking a personal record for deadlifting at the gym, Brock was in the locker room, showering off. He had just stepped out of the shower and was drying off his massive 9″ cock when an older gentleman with gray hair and combover tapped him on the shoulder.

“What do you want, you old pervert?” Brock snapped. “Usually I charge to even acknowledge a shrimp like you.”

“I’m well aware,” the old man said, pushing his aviator bifocals up his nose. “Aren’t you @cashpowerdom on tumblr?”

Brock snorted and sneered at the man. “Indeed I am. Are you one of my cash subs?”

“Goodness no,” laughed the man. “My name is Dr. Johanson and I’m a professor of computer science over at State. I think you know one of my students though... well, former student.”

“Well if you’re looking to pay me tribute, my paypal info is listed on my--”

“I’m not interested in that,” said Dr. Johanson, cutting him off. “You’ve been taking ‘tributes’ as you call them from my student and I need you to give him back all of it.”

“Sorry Doc,” laughed Brock. “No refunds.”

“His parents found out what he was doing with their money and they made him come home. He had to drop out of school,” protested Dr. Johanson. “Suddenly, I’ve lost the best and brightest computer science student I’ve had in a decade--not to mention the most capable president of the Computer Club the school has ever seen. So if you could, give him back his money so his parents will let him re-enroll.”

“That’s my cash,” said Brock. “I earned it. He knew what he was doing, so I’m sorry but no. Why don’t you go back to your nerdy colleagues and just fucking deal with it.” Brock shoved the man aside and started heading to his locker. Suddenly, Dr Johanson leapt at Brock and shoved something sharp into his neck. With a press of a plunger, Dr Johanson injected Brock with something and his vision started to blur.

“What did you dooooo--” Brock started to say as his consciousness left him and he slumped down against the lockers.

Brock awoke with pounding headache, laying in a still running shower. What had happened? Was that all a dream? He rubbed his head which was aching. He must have slipped in the shower and had some weird hallucination while he was out. He quickly toweled off and got dressed, deciding he needed to get home and rest.

As he was speeding home in the Porsche he had bought with all his tributes, he got a strange craving. Normally, he ate nothing but chicken thighs and broccoli to keep his physique looking jacked and perfect, but suddenly Brock was craving Hot Pockets and Mountain Dew. He had never enjoyed these things before but the urge was overwhelming so he pulled over and bought some of each before returning home. Brock plopped himself in front of the tv with a freshly microwaved Hot Pocket and some Mountain Dew and settled on watching Lord of the Rings. He enjoyed it more than he remembered and ended up watching all three before passing out on the couch.

Broke awoke from a ding as his cell phone lit up. He rubbed his groggy eyes and looked at the screen. He had a tumblr message from @DrJohanson. Wait. Was that the guy he had dreamt from the gym? He pulled it open and read:

“Brock, congratulations on your readmittance to State. I’m so glad you’ll be resuming your studies and I look forward to seeing you in class on Monday.”

Brock didn’t understand. None of that made sense so he just threw his phone aside and went to the bathroom to take a piss. As he entered, he caught sight of himself in the mirror and jumped. He looked... different.

His beard was totally gone and his haircut was suddenly short and neatly groomed. And his muscles. WHAT HAD HAPPENED TO HIS MUSCLES? He felt dizzy. He couldn’t comprehend what was going on. Then it hit him. Dr Johanson! The attack in the gym! Maybe he hadn’t dreamed it. He had to get to the university and track him down and get some answers. Brock hopped in the Porsche and started driving but found it difficult. For one, he didn’t have the usual confidence to speed through town and his vision seemed to be blurring. It took him twice as long as it normally would have but he made it to the campus and headed right for the computer science building.

Once inside, he found it difficult to navigate as his vision was getting worse and worse. He managed to make out the text on a couple of flyers. “Advanced Algorithms class. Please see Dr Johanson in his office in room 315 to enroll.” Ah perfect! Now he knew where to find him. And maybe he could talk to him about the Advanced Algorithms class. It sort of sounded fun. NO. That couldn’t be right. Since when did Brock care about computer science classes?

After stumbling through the halls, he finally found Dr. Johanson’s office and burst through the door. The professor was going over his syllabus and seemed amused to see Brock.

“Ah, I wasn’t expecting you until Monday morning,” the professor said with a wry smile.

“What did you do to me, foureyes!?” Brock yelled, squinting to see the professor.

“I told you,” said Dr. Johanson. “I needed my brightest student back and if you weren’t willing to help him get back into school, well I figured I would make a new brightest student. It seems like the nanobots have already done a good job on your muscle mass and facial hair and based on how much you’re squinting, I’d say your ocular degeneration is coming along as scheduled.”

“Nanobots? Huh!?” asked Brock.

“Microscopic technology that can rewrite your DNA, alter your memories, basically reshape you as I see fit. It’s untested but since you were so unapologetic I didn’t feel too bad injecting you with some to see if they work. And it would appear they’re working just great.”

“This is impossible! You can’t do this to me.”

“Actually I can,” said Dr. Johanson. “Your DNA is rewriting as we speak and your mind won’t be much further behind. But for now, I can put it on autopilot.”

“This is imp--” Brock started to say again before Dr. Johanson pushed a button on his smart phone. “Thank you Dr Johanson. I am superduper excited about taking the Advanced Algorithms curricula with you.” Brock clasped his hands across his mouth. He hadn’t wanted to say that, but something had forced him. The nanobots!

“I think you’re going to do just fine in the class,” Dr Johanson said as Brock got up to leave. “Oh Brock, aren’t you forgetting these?” Dr Johanson slid a pair of clunky black glasses across the table. Brock put them on and found his vision was suddenly perfect again.

“Golly jeepers thanks for reminding me!” Brock said against his will, a dorky smile plastered across his face.

“No problem, Brock. Wouldn’t want my best student squinting to see the board. Oh and before you leave...” The professor pushed another button on his phone and Brock, unable to control himself, reached down the back of his pants and yanked his boxers up as far as they would go, leaving him in a painful and visible wedgie. “See you on Monday.”

Brock couldn’t stop himself from walking down the hall with a visible wedgie and just had to endure as all the students he passed laughed at him.

When Brock got home, he had a notification on his PS4. Dr Johanson had sent him gift. “Dragon Age,” the message read. “You’re going to love it. But I have made a modification to your nanobots. For every hour that you play, your manhood will shrink. Wouldn’t do to have my new nerdiest student getting distracted by his own sexuality.”

Brock snorted. So he just wouldn’t play. But part of him cried out. It did look like a really fun game. Maybe he would just play for a little while. But of course he couldn’t control himself. The hours melted away as Saturday night turned into Sunday morning and then into Sunday night. He had played for hours and hours and hours and when he finally glanced down at his dick, it couldn’t be any longer than three inches erect now. With a heavy sigh, and a swig of Mountain Dew, Brock shuffled off to bed.

He awoke with a start as someone rang his doorbell. He glanced at his alarm clock. 5:30 am. He would NEVER be up this early and someone had to pay. He hurried over to the door, itching his now minuscule junk and sighing as he remembered how much it had shrunk. He opened the door and found a large trunk with a note attached.

“Wouldn’t want my best student to not have anything to wear on his first day of class. Signed, Dr. Johanson.”

Brock opened the trunk to find it filled with clothes, but nothing he would ever wear. There were faded dad jeans, plaid shirts, highwater slacks, white socks, shiny patent leather shoes, bowties, suspenders, and pocket protectors. There was no way Brock would ever be seen in these! Even the nerdiest guys he knew were more stylish than this. Underneath one of the shirts, he noticed something else: a roll of off-white tape. What could that be for, he wondered as he took a step forward and tripped over his own feet. His glasses flew from his head and landed underneath him as he fell and snapped in half.

“Oh,” Brock sighed as he felt around for his broken glasses and the tape. He began to wrap the tape around the broken bridge of the glasses until they were firm again and placed them on his head. Sigh, he really did look like a nerd with these broken glasses, but no one could make him wear the rest of those dorky clothes. He headed off to the kitchen to microwave a breakfast Hot Pocket and sat down to play a couple of hours of Dragon Age before he had to be at class, his dick shrinking another half and inch as he played.

Brock was almost late to the 8am class (something he would NEVER have signed up for even if he was interested in college) because he found himself hyperventilating with nervousness whenever he tried to drive faster than 25 miles per hour. This was unlike his usual daredevil self but the nanobots seemed to be affecting his confidence. He rushed into class just as the bell rang and couldn’t help but grab a seat front row center as he adjusted his taped up glasses. Dr. Johanson grinned seeing him there.

“Alright class, we’re going to get into today’s lesson in a minute but I wanted to introduce you to a new student. He transferred in just in the nick of time but I’ve seen his test scores and he’s honestly going to be the one to beat in this class. Brock, why don’t you say hello to the class?”

Brock’s heart suddenly started racing and sweat poured down his brow. He had never been this nervous before so why would he be now? All he had to do was introduce himself to a class full of nerds. But as he stood, he felt his knees shaking.

“M-m-m-my name is B-b-b-brock,” he stuttered before ripping a loud fart in front of the class. Everybody burst into laughter. Brock couldn’t believe it. He could feel the nanobots fiddling around in his brain and tried to resist but blurted out “Sorry, I get flatulent w-w-when I’m n-n-n-nervous” and ripped another loud fart. Everyone laughed even harder. Why had he said that!? It wasn’t true! But as he farted again on his way back to the seat, he realized that maybe it was true. He sunk into his chair. He didn’t know what he could believe anymore.

As the class began, Brock found that it was exceedingly easy. He couldn’t help but raise his hand to answer every question. He could hear the students behind him groan every time his hand shot up but he felt a sense of pride for every correct answer, something he had never cared for in the past. The class basically turned into the Dr. Johanson and Brock show, with the other students flinging pencils and wads of paper at him whenever Dr. Johanson turned back to the whiteboard. Finally the bell rang.

“Brock, can I see you in my office?” Dr Johanson said.

Of course Brock wanted to tell him to fuck off but instead he blurted out “Why g-g-g-golly jeepers of course P-p-p-professor!” He followed the professor into his office and stumbled as he tripped over the large trunk that had been at his house earlier in the day.

“You’re not wearing your clothes, Brock,” Dr. Johanson said angrily.

“B-b-but I am!” he protested. “What’s in that trunk… those aren’t my clothes! These are my clothes!” he said gesturing to the designer clothes he had always worn but now hung off his scrawny body. Dr Johanson sighed and pressed a button on his smartphone. Brock felt a zap go through his brain and he started undressing in front of Dr. Johanson against his will!

“Well g-g-g-gosh you are correct, Professor!” he said uncontrollably as he stripped down to his boxers. He sighed and pulled them down revealing his now one-inch dick to the professor who snapped a picture and laughed.

“This one is going to all the guys who were paying you tribute,” he said.

Brock couldn’t help himself and started getting dressed in these clothes that he loathed. First went the tighty-whiteys, then the plaid button down. Then he tied a black bowtie around his neck and put the pocket protector into his pocket. Finally, he attached the suspenders to his jeans and yanked them up as high as they would go before putting on his cardigan. Dr. Johanson grinned and pulled out a mirror so that Brock could see what he looked like. Brock’s face fell. He looked like a completely stereotypical nerd!

“Alright Brock, now that’s the computer genius I always knew you were. You better get going. You have so much homework to do.” Brock got up to leave, his stature changed. He hunched over, his confidence completely gone. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” the professor said, pointing to a large case by the door. In it, Brock found a huge accordion.

“But I don’t know how to-“ The professor pushed another button and Brock snapped to attention, his demeanor changing. He yanked his underwear up out of his pants giving himself a massive visible wedgie and grabbed the accordion. “G-g-g-g-golly jeepers! I almost f-f-forgot it. Thanks Dr. J-j-j-johanson!” Brock gleefully marched out of the office, accordion in hand, playing an annoying polka version of the Star Wars Imperial March. On the outside, Brock was a giddy superdork, but inside, he was screaming with embarrassment. It didn’t help that everyone on campus was laughing at him as he clumsily stumbled home playing the accordion, their phones out filming him. By the time he made it back to his apartment, he had already been tagged in the video and it was one of the trending videos on YouTube: “State University’s biggest nerd can’t stop playing the accordion!”

Brock’s existence just kept getting nerdier and nerdier from there. He started going to computer club multiple times a week, gleefully teaching newcomers everything there was to know about computers. Within a month, he had become president of computer club, chess club, math team, Dungeons and Dragons club, anime club, LARPing club, robotics team, and the AV club. If it was a nerdy hobby, he couldn’t help but do it. Deep down, Brock hated these things. He found them extremely boring and embarrassing but the nanobots ensured that he had to follow through with the activities against his will. He had even started his own pocket protector appreciation club which required him to go door-to-door to the different frat houses on campus to convince them that pocket protectors were, in his new words “Neato completo!” which mostly ended up in the frat brothers inviting him in to wedgie him, dunk his head in the toilet, and send him on his way with his glasses snapped in a new place, forcing him to put even more tape on them.

Inside, Brock was the same alpha jock, but on the outside, he couldn’t act any more differently. He was shy, extremely clumsy, and an absolute goody two shoes. He would go to bed by 9pm every night and be up by 5 in the morning to read a fantasy novel. Every morning, against his will, he taped a sign to his back that read “WEDGIE ME” and the jocks on campus were always inclined to help him out. And to ensure that everyone in his classes thought he was the biggest dweeb ever, at the end of every class he would raise his meek finger and stutter, “P-p-p-p-professor, you f-f-f-f-forgot to give us homework for the w-w-w-weekend.”

Brock had never felt so alone or humiliated in his life, but his computer knowledge had become so vast that the school kept getting more and more grants, and Dr. Johanson once again had the brightest computer science student in the nation. Eventually, he decided that Brock still needed a nerdier life and got to work. He forced him to sell his Porsche and buy a beat up Volvo station wagon which was immediately decked out in nerdy bumper stickers. Against his will, Brock started following a cash dom on tumblr named @FormerCompSciNerd (Dr Johanson used the nanobots to make Brock’s former victim into a muscle jock that raked in dough from submissives all over the web) and donated the leftovers from the sale of his car to @FormerCompSciNerd’s paypal. In fact, Dr. Johanson made Brock donate all of his income (Brock had started tutoring anyone who asked him) to @FormerCompSciNerd ensuring that Brock was always broke.

Of course, a poor tutor like Brock couldn’t afford the sleek apartment he had been living in back when he was a cash dom so he had to move back in with his parents. It was humiliating to Brock, who ended up living in his parent’s carpeted, wood paneled basement. Brock’s parents weren’t sure what had happened to their son—he certainly wasn’t the musclebound jerk he had been when he first left home—but they were so happy to have him back, and that he was a star pupil, that they didn’t really ask any questions. Brock never moved out of that basement, spending the rest of his nights alone in the dank basement, surrounded by cardboard cut outs of Lord of the Rings characters, dozens of bookshelves of sci-fi novels, multiple gaming PCs that he spent his free time modding, and thousands and thousands of pristine, still-in-the-box action figures. Needless to say, Brock never had sex again for the rest of his life. It certainly didn’t help that Dr. Johanson made Brock legally change his name to Wilmer Wedgiewimp.

Eventually, he graduated, top of his class, and then got his Masters and PhD in computer science but decided to stay at the school to teach. This was perfect for Dr. Johanson as Brock—err—Wilmer Wedgiewimp’s work was always winning grants for the school but Wilmer was too shy and meek to ever try and compete with Dr. Johanson for a better position in the computer science department. Brock was trapped deep down inside and Wilmer Wedgiewimp was how he presented to the world. Even his students made fun of him, giving him wedgies and calling him names. Brock wanted to scream out but he couldn’t. Wilmer was in charge and no matter what humiliating thing happened to him, all he could do was grin, play a polka on his accordion, and give an enthusiastic and embarrassingly nerdy snap of his suspenders.

#nerdtf #jocktonerd #nerdification #jocktogeek #maletf

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