The Jocking: Finale

Previously, on The Jocking:

Darren Brock, son of Mallory Brock and grandson of Burton Fisher, is the host to a demonic antichrist that will end the modern world. He killed his own parent’s and Kai’s when a fire was created in response to his demon awakening. Briggs was employed to steal sampled of XAP and to use to pacify Darren. Instead, Briggs created a jock army. Brock killed Briggs and has ascended into his true demonic form. Now he controls the entire team of muscle jocks.

Kai Cole, whose parents were XAP researchers, is a Japanese pop star who went to high school with Darren Brock. He witnessed Briggs’ original creation of the super jocks and attempted to stop him. His agent, Jamie Carter, betrayed him to Briggs. He was captured and subjected to mental torture from Briggs. With some help from Adam and Chloe, Kai has rededicated himself to the fight against Brock and the jocks.

Chloe Barnette, child genius and original creator of XAP. Samples of her research were leaked to Briggs from her boss, Maxwell Moore. Briggs and Brock took control of her facility and have taken control of all XAP research. Now she fights with Adam and Kai to save the world.

Adam Turner, average college student. In love with his best friend, James. Adam was born in tandem with a demon who was destined to take a human body, but could not control the human soul. The demon exorcized Darren’s soul in order to take control of his body, and since then Adam has carried it. Due to the burden of carrying an extra soul, Adam has suffered from constant health problems. He is immune to the powers of XAP and Brock. He tried to rescue Kai, but was in turn captured. During their escape, James was killed. Filled with newfound purpose, Adam is determined to kill Brock and save the world.

CHAPTER 1

Ron Punder has grown up in the town his whole life. Gone to college, gotten married and gotten a job. So it wasn’t surprising when he woke up one morning and proceeded to get dressed for work. He was an athletic, if let go, kind of guy. While his frame was powerful and muscular, a large gut protruded forth from his belly. It kind of ruined the effect of the cycling/business man look he had. Dark skinned and tall, Ron had an impressive look. He also had a huge ass. Not the kind of perky bubble-butt associated with sex, but rather a large, absolutely massive rear end. It was hard as a rock, and the size of a boulder. But he wasn’t a man who has ever really considered his looks.

He stood in his closet and put on a pair of striped red boxers and a tight white wife beater. From the racks he chose a hunter green oxford shirt and black slacks. He added a green and black tie, black belt, and loafers before he finished the look with the jacket. It was boring and bland but a good traditional look for a boring, traditional job.

Ron got in his car and drove to work, but today was a different. He had a meeting at the local university, some such nonsense that he had to go sit in on. The whole thing wasn’t really interesting to him. He mostly sat and took notes for his boss. He knew everything, and in fact basically designed the pitches for his boss. But that was the joy of delegating. It’s not that he didn’t get credit; he just wanted to come into his own.

Pulling up to the university, he parked at a paved area generally reserved for special guests. It sat right in front of the football stadium, with an entrance to the coach’s areas immediately in front. He expected to see his boss’s car already parked out front. The man was unusually punctual and they had some setting up to do. It was a building and maintenance contract with the football team and stadium, which could mean big bucks for the company. Ron let himself in using the password he had been given and followed the directions to the conference room. All the notes and pictures were on the table, but no boss. Cocking his head in curiosity, Ron’s phone rang. It was his boss. He wasn’t going to make it, and he was letting Ron handle the meeting. Alone.

It was as if someone had opened the heavens. Here was his chance to finally make it on his own. And this contract was huge. If he could negotiate above the ten percent mark it could lead to a whole new job. Instantly, Ron switched from underappreciated sidekick to money-savvy businessman. He scanned the notes over and over and prepared carefully his speech for the universities men.

About ten minutes later, three burly men entered the room. They were all powerful men in khaki pants and white polos with blue paneling and the schools logo on the left pectoral. They looked more like professional bodybuilders than lawyers. Once they were all seated another man stepped in. Just as big as the others, but wearing a full suit: black pants and jacket, over a blue shirt with a blue and red striped tie. Ron recognized the man as the head coach of the football team.

The coach extended his hand and said, “Mr. Stanton?” The strength of his grip nearly crushed Ron’s hand and disoriented him.
“Uh, no. I’m Ron Punder. I’ll be handling the negotiations.”
“Oh, pleased to meet you Mr. Pounder. My name is Allen Windstock. I’m the head coach here. And these are my assistant coaches: Eli Basher, Peyton Thrasher, and Tom Grinder.” The three men nodded as he said their names, but Ron couldn’t tell them apart.
“Umm, it’s Punder. You’re doing the negotiations?” Ron asked.
“Well, yeah. It is MY stadium,” he spoke with authority. “Who better to make decisions for it?” The three men sitting next to him all nodded and sounded agreement.
“Anyway, let’s get down to business,” Windstock commanded.
“Umm, yeah. Okay. So, here… is the plan…” Ron began.

Thirty minutes later, the whole situation was not going well. Ron simply couldn’t pull off the argument he wanted. His mind seemed to slip around the presentation he was so prepared for a few minutes ago. He constantly kept saying the numbers wrong and was confusing himself about the details. The only thing that kept him going was Windstock, who kept nodding encouragingly and telling him that he was doing great. The three assistants sat with the arms on the table, unmoving.

“So, yeah…we umm,” Ron was trying to talk about the development but he just couldn’t make the words come out right. He was becoming very uncomfortable and was sweating and resisting the urge to pull off his tie. “We’d like the amount to be…”
“I have another idea for the payment,” Windstock contributed. Ron looked confused and finished his sentence anyway.
“No that will never do,” Windstock answered. Ron was devastated, all that work for a flat refusal. He hadn’t even managed to try to up the offer; he was just trying to get the hell out.
“W,what’s wrong with it?”
“I think this is a more suitable amount, “ Windstock countered with an amount that meant the company would be absorbing the majority of the cost.
“I don’t think my boss would…”
“Aren’t you the one in charge, Ron?”
“Well, yes but,”
“Yes sir,” Windstock corrected.
“Yes sir, it’s just that…umm…”
“No. I think that amount is much more appropriate.” Ron was shaking his head and getting visibly upset. His dreams were being pounded into the ground on which the coach walked. Absentmindedly, he pulled at the neck of his tie.
“That thing choking you? Windstock asked.
“Uh, no. Nervous habit.”
“Why don’t you just take it off? It doesn’t really matter.”
“Well, that’s not exactly, umm, professional.” Windstock was making Ron feel less like an adult and more like a small child. Everything he said seemed to be smug and a little condescending.
“It’s not a big deal. Here,” he said as he walked over and proceeded to take the tie off Ron’s neck. Totally shocked, Ron just stood there and let Windstock removed the accessory. Ron did feel better when it was off and he let out a tiny sigh of relief. Windstock just pat his back and smiled. “See, it’s not so bad.” Ron just nodded contently. He hesitated for a second and then smiled and continued the presentation. All the while he kept looking at the coach for approval, his three assistants still sat stoically on the sides.

“Now Ron, see I don’t think that’s really what you want…” Windstock was leading in again, changing something about the contract, development, or whatnot. Ron had just started to nod at him and try to understand the situation. He much preferred not wearing the tie, but was still burning up.

“You know what, Ron? I think we should continue this discussion in my conference room downstairs, how about it?” Ron wasn’t sure he should do it, but he smiled and agreed. The three assistants immediately stood up and opened the door for the coach and Ron, and then tailed the three as they went to the conference room.

Ron was still quite hot and sweat stains were showing through his clothes, particularly on his pits and ass. He trailed behind the head coach, watching his firm ass thrust out form under the suit jacket, each globe clearly visible despite the covering of the suit. Staring intently, Ron’s head hung low and his shoulders were slumped as he trudged along behind the coach. Following him, the three assistants, each with their shoulders back and heads up tall. They walked from the hips, with the legs always about shoulder width apart, making them take up a lot of space. Ron was too absorbed in the head coach’s wonderful glutes to notice.

Windstock led them downstairs into another conference room. This one was decorated with the schools logo and colors everywhere. On the wall was the football team’s mission statement: The strong survive, the weak lose. But Ron didn’t notice as he sat down next to Windstock. The coach in the middle, Ron to his left and then Thrasher one more seat away, with Basher and Grinder on the other side. Ron didn’t even realize that he should be sitting on the other side. Windstock looked over and him and laughed and then patted him on the back.

“You know what Ron?” the coach addressed him. “You can’t be comfortable in those sweaty clothes. Here, come with me,” he said offering Ron his hand. Absentmindedly, Ron took his hand and left the other three seated at the table. Windstock led Ron through another door and into a small locker room.

“This room is for the assistant coaches,” Windstock explained. There were cots on one side and then lockers on the other. “Here you go Ron, why don’t you undress for me?” Ron stared for a moment and then nodded rather obediently and began to strip. He quickly pulled off the suit jacket, nearly tearing off the sleeves with his shoulders. Paying no heed, he ripped the shirt open, sending buttons flying, before tossing that to the floor. Next he whipped off the belt and shred his pants from his thighs. Then the socks, shoes, and finally his boxers were all left on the floor. Windstock happily observed Ron’s behavior and began to analyze him once he was naked. He ran a hand over the thick ridges of his abs, admiring the small size of his waist. His shoulders and pecs gave the man an impressive upper body, but the real site to see was Ron’s ass. Before, it had been huge. Now it was the largest, beefiest, bouncing bubble butt that anyone could imagine.

“Alright Pounder… here we go,” Windstock said as he opened one of the lockers. He reached in and took out of a pair of solid white spandex briefs. He handed them to Ron, who stared at them confused.
“Put them on,” the coach commanded. Like a knee jerk reaction, Ron immediately put one leg through the whole and then the other and pulled the briefs up his legs. As the back began to catch on his glorious derriere Punder could feel the spandex begin to expand as it slowly marched over his luscious mounds. The tightness began to cover his cock and balls. Then finally, it sat high against his back, fully engulfing his rock solid buns. The sheer white underwear looked great over Punder’s muscular tan body. Windstock rubbed his shoulder and smiled.

“See Pounder, just follow my lead,” to which Punder nodded. His face was expressionless, his eyes cold and his lips pressed together. Windstock handed him a white polo with blue paneling and helped Punder pull it on over his massive traps and delts.. Next he produced a pair of khaki pants, which Punder pulled over his chiseled quads and glutes. The outline of his briefs was plainly visible through the super tight khakis. His ass would always be on display. After tucking in the polo, Windstock handed him a belt. He had to pull the pants high on his butt to make the belt cinch around his tiny waist. Then he added some athletic shoes.

Punder looked at himself in the mirror. He would never have guessed that he used to be a businessman and amateur cyclist. Instead, a beefy bodybuilder dressed like one of the schools assistant coaches stared back at him. And he liked it. A lot. Windstock turned Punder around to look at him and smiled.

“You know Pounder,” Punder opened his mouth to correct the coach but no sound came out, “I think you made a wrong career choice. You obviously were supposed to be one of my assistant coaches. Don’t you think Pounder?” The thing was, Pounder couldn’t think. Not really. And so he stoically nodded and when asked to sign his name did so without hesitation. The two men walked back to the conference room, the powerful head coach leading the way, trailed by his newest lackey- whose broad shoulders almost touched the walls of the hallway, and whose chest was thrust forward to show his power. He only stepped in front of the coach to open the door for him, and suddenly they were back in the conference room.

This time he sat next to the coach, just where he belonged. He and the other assistants were massive and obedient to their coach. Just like the players. “So,” Windstock began again, “I don’t think the amount the company gave us was right. Pounder, you are going to agree to the deal for me and then quit that job and join us here.”
“Yes sir,” came a deep bovine voice.
“After that, we need to have practice tonight to make sure all the boys are ready. “ The head coach stood up and a moment later the assistants followed. Pounder ran forward to open the door for the coach, and then he trailed behind the pack. Windstock with his four bulldogs behind him. Pounder liked it that way. He was always ready to obey the coach. He would sign the deal and then quit that company. He didn’t know why he ever worked there. Obviously, he was supposed to be an assistant football coach. He loved football. It was all that mattered in life. He was a football coach.

As Windstock got up to leave, he turned and faced his new assistant. “Oh, and Pounder?” The newly huge coach turned to look at the man in charge. “I want you to start a new recruiting program for the team. We can’t have enough boys you, can we?”

Pounder nodded, no change in his eyes or lips. He was a stern faced coach now, no need for visible emotions. Inside, he was excited about being put in charge. There was nothing better than helping boys discover their inner jocks.

****************

It had been a long drive. There really wasn’t that much to talk about, either. It had all the potential of a college road trip- the kids, the car, all it was missing was the booze. But this wasn’t a joyride. The past few states all looked the same. It was awkward, there was, for the first time, a great opportunity to get to know one another. A chance, maybe, to be normal for just a second. A rare moment in time where everything could be alright. But they were too absorbed in their own thoughts, and the sad reality of their mortality. James’ death has left an impact on their souls, as they watched one of their taken away without so much as a struggle.

“We’re almost there,” Chloe said as she pushed harder on the gas pedal.
“I still don’t quite understand why we’re going here,” Kai said.
“I have a few things that I need to get,” Adam explained. “You’re high school isn’t too far south of my college.”
“What are we getting?”
“Weapons.”

The town seemed deserted as they drove through. Not even the football stadium had people. Adam opened the door to his apartment and let the others in. It was small and quaint and had both Kai and Chloe looking slightly somber. Adam first walked past the kitchen and closed a door. Walking back out her explained, “James’ room. I don’t really wanna look at it right now.”

“So, you have weapons? That can stop invincible jocks?” Kai asked.
“Not invincible,” Adam responded. “You proved that. We know how to kill them, we just can’t do too much along the way.”
“We can hurt them,” Chloe added. “Well, disorient them at least.”
“I doubt that will work anymore. Brock will have adapted to his powers. I don’t know if we can even hurt the others.”
“Again, weapons? You actually have weapons?” Kai spouted maniacally.
“Not weapons, weapons, per se. I... have clothes.”
“What?”
“I’m changing clothes. And so are you. It’s been awhile. I think a shower and getting cleaned up will really, help.”
“Help?” Chloe sounded confused.
“That’s your brilliant plan?” Kai scoffed.
“Look, it will help. Besides, I have some knives here. And a baseball bat.”
“Hammer?” Chloe suggested.
“Right, hammer. Have one.”
“Power tools? Battery operated power tools?” she continued.
“Umm, no. Well, James might. We should check his room.”
“The room you don’t want to go into?” Kai said, causing the others to glare. “Just a statement. Don’t kill the messenger.”
“Look, I’m gonna take a shower. You guys...do whatever.” And Adam closed the door to his bathroom. A second later, the water started to run and Kai and Chloe sat down on the couch. The room was quiet and still, and there was no noise from outside. There was a bit of sun coming in through the curtain, halfway closed, but drawing light up the center of the room. The light divided the couch between Kai and Chloe. Kai let out a sigh and Chloe tossed her hair.

“You think?” Kai cocked his head towards Chloe.
“I do. I tend to do it quite often. Part of my job.”
“No, Chloe. I mean, what do you think is going to happen?”
“Oh...we’re going to die. Probably. At least one of us. Or all...of us. This isn’t exactly something I know much about.”
“War?”
“Worry. I’m not big on it. Never really did it before. My life, was pretty much a set plan. This wasn’t part of the plan.” Kai leaned over and rested his head in her lap.
“But it’s good to have change. Keeps you on your game.”
“Maybe. I’m not thrilled anyhow. Besides, it’s actually Adam’s battle. We’ll mostly be the cheering section.”
“Mono et mono? Not us?”
“We don’t share the demon’s soul. This part, it’s up to Adam. Our job is to get him to Brock. After that...”
“The weight of the world?”
“Is on his shoulders,” Chloe finished. Both looked up as Adam walked in the room. Gone were the flip flops and torn clothes. Boots, pants, and shirt. Adam held up a bat as he said, “Cleaned, groomed, and ready for war.”

 

CHAPTER 2

The fraternity house used to have symbols out front, but someone had driven their car into them last week, and they hadn’t gotten them replaced. It didn’t really matter which house it was, they didn’t care. MJ, TT, and Troy - the meatheads - strutted through the doors. Their bodies were covered in various forms of spandex, straining against the huge mounds of muscles on their bodies. They each brought in a large gym bag, swung over their shoulders. As they walked inside, they began to sort of sing-song, “My meat is my head, my head is full of meat.” Happy, simplistic smiles stuck on their faces.

One of the brother was walking through the hall when they came in. He turned to see three huge meatheads walking into the house. And they were saying something. He was about to ask them what they were doing, but it sunk into his head. There were these words. And suddenly he heard them.

“My meat is in my head, my head is full of meat!”

Instantly his body exploded. The violet polo and khaki pants ripped off his body as pounds and pounds of muscle began to grow from within. His biceps and triceps covered his arms like burly snakes, coiling tightly and shredding the sleeves of the shirt. A once small, ripped frame was replaced with huge hulking muscles, so large they were hardly even functional. His face, once a vision of elegance, became hard and edged, with a prominent jaw and forehead. Brown strands of hair fell to the floor as a blonde high-and-tight grew in. Finally, a glazed look came over his eyes and a dopey smile covered his face.

“My meat is in my head, my head is full of meat!” He announced proudly. The other three guys set down their gym bags and pulled out some clothes. The new meathead pulled out a white lycra singlet and put it on. It hugged every curve of his body and proudly showed off his ass and cock. He began to chant with the other guys as they went further into the house.

In the TV room about five guys were kicking back and watching TV. But from the hall behind them, a strange chanting began to rise up over the show. They couldn’t quite make out what it was, and it hit them all at different times. The first was an average boy, short in stature who figured out what they were saying. Aside from putting on several hundred pounds of muscle, his height increased by two feet. His longer legs were three times as thick, the mammoth quads dissected by huge veins. The hamstrings became taut and expanded along the back. Chicken-like calves became the size of large forearms. In a few seconds he was completely unrecognizable, just another brainless muscle man. He put on a pair of running shorts out of the bags and joined in the chanting.

The two sitting nearest to the TV heard it next. Their bodies had begun to accumulate some beer fat from college. But once the words sunk into their heads, the layers of fat oozed from their bodies and were replaced with slabs of monstrous muscle that layered on top of each other until the body more resembled a comical caricature than any actual person. Obscene biceps and solid forearms replaced their old, mundane arms. Their brains became cloudy and dysfunctional as thoughts of muscle and football bounced around their empty skulls. They put on long white tights and spandex tanks tops, then smiled like the others and joined in the chanting. The last two men had just enough time to look scared before they too were consumed by the meathead mantra. Pecs jutted forward as traps rose, limiting their head rotation. Massive laterals stretched out the sides, forming a sharp v form the waist to shoulders. Soon their individual faces and bodies were warped to become identical muscle goons, just like the others. Clad in spandex, vapid and vain, they joined in the mindless chanting as they spread throughout the house.

Hours later, every member of the fraternity was nothing more than a male muscle bimbo. Except for one. A pretty boy, with tailored clothes and well maintained hair. And when he got home that night, he was greeted by a bass choir of chanting. He looked in terror and covered his ears but it was only a moment later that something rang inside his skull. It felt like a heavy bass vibration was pumping inside his skull, simultaneously melting away his brain and memory and replacing them with hard muscle. Massive pecs and huge lats grew outward, while his shoulders became obscenely hefty, much too wide for a doorframe. As a glazed look covered his face, his once pristine and conditioned hair exploded in a wiry tress of masculine locks. And as a deep grunt bellowed from within himself, he too became yet another member of the meatheads. He slipped into a white unitard and joined the herd.

One fraternity down, but there was still a whole campus of men.

 

CHAPTER 3

The car ride was mostly silent. There wasn’t a whole lot any of them had to say. Individuals lost in thought. Mostly thinking about the fact that they were racing towards their potential deaths, physical or mental. Finally, Chloe spoke.

“What was that TAN1?”
“Huh?”
“You mentioned something called TAN1. You said it was like a cure to XAP.”
“Oh, my parents files had it. They said it was like preventive.”
“Did they test it?”
“Yeah, on me I think.”
“Guess it didn’t work too well,” Adam spat.
“Hey.”
“Sorry, Kai. But it’s true. Adam is right. You’re not immune.”
“I have higher resistance.”
“Not as high as Adam’s.”
“Yeah well... we’re the same person. It makes you close.”
“Not the same. You...you just have his soul. Inside you.”
“Uh huh. See the same person thing?”
“Yeah,” they both answered.

“Anyway,” Chloe continued. “I think I could make it work. This TAN1. If there is any left.”
“Doubtful,” Kai responded. “The only supply of anything from the lab was in Briggs’ possession.”
“So, he got rid of it?”
“Well, no. Everything was in the locker rooms.”
“So... worth a shot?” Adam suggested.
“I think so,” Chloe answered. “If there’s any left and it really does somewhat distort XAP, then I should be able to make it restore everything. It would be like going back to the first bend in reality and undoing it. Therefore, all other bends would not exist. A panacea.”
“Or a good way to make reality permanently unstable,” Kai interjected.
“I would say that Briggs did a good enough job of that himself. And now with Brock. It’s only a suggestion. If you have any better idea of how to reverse a massive mind control project, let me know,” Chloe frowned.
“I have to kill Brock.”
“Yes dear, we got that. But somehow I don’t think that will undo everything. I mean he may be in control of them, but he didn’t make them that way. XAP did. We have to reverse that. Or we’re going to have to go around and find each one individually.”
“How did they do so many?” Kai asked.
“Their original machine probably got more powerful the more it was used. They learned how to harness its true power. I can probably do it with just XAP. But what I’m thinking, is that TAN1 may actually fix reality. It may prevent bending. Which would make reality stable again. Cause I’m scared that a mass use of XAP could cause us to spend the rest of our lives floating through alternate realities.”
“Really?”
“I’m sure a lot already exist. The very fabric of space is damaged.”
“So, guess Chloe and I have our missions. What about you Kai?”
“I’m gonna have to guide you both there. I’m the only one who has been here before. Even if he altered the whole thing, I think I’m the best bet. Especially Chloe. You may be drawn to Brock or something. But for her...”
“Fab,” Adam said. “We have weapons, we have plans.”
“Just remember, you can only kill them by removing their cock and balls.”
“How did you know that?”
“A little left over memory from my days in jock land.”
“Anything else useful?”
“They use some sleeping chemical to reinforce the jocking. People actually drift out of it naturally. At least they used to.”
“It makes sense,” Chloe explained. “Reality should tend towards chaos. This is making the world more structured. Entropy and such.”
“I just love chemistry on a road trip,” Adam said.
“Hey, I like chemistry!” Kai and Chloe yelled.

 

CHAPTER 4

Randy had been running. He liked to run. It kept him in good shape, and heart healthy. Plus a good body was a good way to get laid. He had never had any problems except for the occasional motorist who didn’t understand the whole “yield to pedestrians.”

And now he was pinned up against a brick wall in some dark alley, held by three muscle goons in tight shirts and football pants. He tried to scream but they held his mouth shut. He kicked their groins, but the hard cup repelled him and caused them to laugh.

“Hold still, bro. This’ll only take a sec,” one deep voiced jock said. They pulled down his running shorts and injected something into his ass. What was it? Some sort of date rape drug? Where they kidnapping him? Steroids? Randy did not understand what was going on. He continued to struggle against them. He body flopped uselessly against the bricks and their buff bodies. Finally they dropped him to the ground.

Randy got up to run, but found it hard to see. The world was getting hazy and he was getting dizzy. Then he felt it. A fiery burn, like he was being flame-broiled. It started in his feet, slowly eating away at his skin and bones and muscles. He looked down and could see large, dark colored feet. Much larger than his previous ones. The burning moved up his legs, leaving the skin much darker than it had been before. His calves jiggled and began to expand until they were thick and meaty. It ran up into his thighs, burning away his old muscle and replacing it with chiseled quads, each distinct muscle highly visibly, and tightly strung hamstrings. His ass began to burn as two large glutes flared up on his back side. Big veins ran up his body under the dark skin as a six pack carved itself into his midsection. He could feel his back began to expand, starting at the very bottom of the muscle and slowly growing upwards. Pecs began to swell in front of him. So large, unnatural. They made it hard to look straight down. But they were so hot. Such a nice dark color. Randy found himself starting at his pecs in pride as the top of his back expanded even wider. His shoulders became two huge mounds. The fire left him with awkwardly large biceps, even for a man of his size. And immense triceps that were always flexed. Forearms as thick as his monumental calves now led to rough, huge hands. He could feel his traps rising up, absorbing his neck. And then the burning got to his face. His lips became fuller and his nose became larger.

Randy’s old thoughts were burning away. What was once painful now felt exhilarating. He loved the feeling of his huge, ungainly muscles. He could tell you the name of each and every one. But he couldn’t tell you anything about the periodic table, except what he needed to eat in order to maintain his body. Old thoughts about school and homework and money drained from his head, replaced with health and fitness. And a burning desire to play football. Something about football was amazing. Football was perfect. God, he loved football.

Randy had begun to pump his dark colored cock furiously. It was only second later that a thick substance burst from it, covering the ground. Randy’s mouth hung open and his eyes contained a familiar vagueness. Finally he smiled and laughed a deep guttural laugh. His teammates handed him a white jock strap and football pants so tight and sheer that every curve of his big black ass was perfectly visible. He slipped into some no show socks and football cleats, as the boys pulled a skintight sleeveless shirt over his shoulders. It said RAND on the back and had the number 27 printed on it. Rand suddenly felt consumed by rage and began to jump and cheer with his boys. They had football to play and life was good.

 

CHAPTER 5

“Welcome to high school,” Kai said as the car drove up to the parking lot. The town had been strangely deserted. They had expected rows of pickup trucks and buildings filled with uber jocks. But it seemed that no one was around. They tried to drive past the stadium, but it was now the size of a professional arena, complete with dome.
“Are you sure you can get us there?” Adam asked. “I mean it is different.”
“A lot different,” Kai said. “But still. Yeah, I can do this.”
“So,” Chloe said as she began to unload three bags from the back of the car, “where to?”
“Okay,” Kai began. “You and I need to get to the equipment room. It’s where he has the machine setup. And all the XAP and such should be there. Adam...needs to find Brock. I bet he’ll be on the field.”
“Playing. It’s what he does.”
“I can get us both halfway. Basically, the locker rooms should lead to either point.”
“Great, let’s go.” The three each picked up a duffel bag and swung it around their backs. They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

“So, what you wanna do tomorrow?”
“Sleep,” was Adam’s definitive answer.
“Eat.”
“Wash the XAP stains out of my clothes.”
“Your face will be covered.”
“Fuck you!”
“Right back you!”
“God, this is ridiculous.” They began the walk towards the doors. Chloe pulled a hammer out of her bag as Kai produced a baseball bat. The doors to the front were locked, but a few quick beatings and Adam’s foot later the door was open. They charged in prepared for battle.

This wasn’t what they expected. The lights were off and the halls were as empty as the town.

After releasing a long sigh Kai said, “Alright, follow me.” He led them down a hall to the right. It was long and dark and painfully quiet. It led them away from the main buildings, and towards the back. Where the practice fields and weight rooms used to be. They passed an open room. The once and current weight room, although now it could easily accommodate several hundred men. The machines weren’t the shiny new Nautilus ones, they were old and used. Designed only for the heaviest of lifting. Free weights were scattered about, hundred pound dumbbells tossed casually aside as though they were nothing. The bench press bars were stacked with hundreds of pounds of weight each, the lowest amount any of these men lifted. It smelled strongly of body odor.

“Here we go,” Kai said as he opened a door. It looked like a professional locker room. Rows of pristine lockers and well maintained equipment, with the jerseys hung prominently in each. A little stool sat in front of each. It looked completely untouched. There were showers off to the side, taps hanging from the ceiling, designed to cover about four of the men at a time.

“The equipment room should be through here,” Kai said. “And that, should lead outside.”
“Through the tunnel. Or some other entrance thingy?” Adam asked.
“Probably, are you going?”
“Yeah. He’s there. I can feel it.”
“It?” Chloe asked.
“Yeah, the demon.”
“Oh.”
“Well, good luck.”
“Thanks, best wished you two.”

Adam marched towards the outside, on a path trodden by dozens of brutish men intent on victory. Kai and Chloe headed another way. Where the spare equipment was kept. To halls lined with shoes and jerseys and tape and jock straps. And somewhere, a machine that was the original source of this whole disaster.

Adam walked onto the field. It was lit with bright lights and the scoreboard was on. And standing in the middle of the field, was Brock. Black cleats and socks, leading to black lycra pants with a red stripe down the side. A black jersey with the red paneling. His huge, veiny arms bulged out of the jersey. He had black and red gloves on his hands. His helmet was in his hands, and black paint under his eyes. Upon seeing Adam he let out a big smile.

“Adam, finally.”

Kai and Chloe walked into the equipment room and the door closed behind them. They were surrounded by a large group of suited up jocks. Staring at the team, Chloe let out a barely audible, “Fuck!”

****************

Every store had a niche, a gimmick it used to lure customers in to buy their products. This store employed the most successful tactic in history - sex. Everywhere, images of beautiful bodies covered the walls. If anyone had looked closely, they would have noticed that the hunks never wore the clothes from the store, too busy exposing every portion of their physique. There were four male workers in the store and no customers. Each man entered one at a time, got clothes, asked for assistance in the dressing rooms, and a new jock walked out every single time. The workers were now physical embodiments of the models on the wall, and the new slogan of the store: dress like us, look like us.

The first new customer was a stud already. A muscular body with broad shoulders and thick brown hair, Marcus Brown was a star swimmer in college. A former fat kid who had spent the last six years gaining total control of his body, this was his first time in the store. It was time he showed off his body, now elegant and built. He noticed four male workers in the store, each a paragon to the clothing company they worked for. They summed him up, probably for potential to buy, and then one swaggered over. Bleach blonde hair and huge body, his eyes contained a strange vagueness to them.

“Hey Dude,” Brute approached the shopper. “Can I fucking help you find anything?” Marcus was a little disturbed by the worker swearing, but they were about the same age. Maybe he was just trying to connect with him.
“Umm, yeah. I’m looking for . . . Anything really.”
“Fuck man! Just wanna fucking show off your fucking hot body?”
“Yeah,” Marcus laughed sheepishly. “I guess.”
“Fuck yeah! Here, go to the back and I’ll fucking get you some fucking cool shit.” Marcus walked to the back and entered the open dressing room. Brute followed him in a moment later with a full outfit. A tight polo shirt with the logo BRMB on the chest, faded jeans, briefs, shoes, and even some cologne. Marcus examined the load and said, “I’m really more of a boxers man.”
“Just fucking try ‘em!”

Marcus stripped the ground, aware that the worker had yet to leave. He assumed he was just staying make sure he didn’t want anything else. Probably working on commission. Marcus held up the briefs. Black, and partially made of spandex, he hadn’t worn a pair since elementary school. With a moments hesitation, he pulled the underwear over his privates. It was instantly the most rewarding thing he had done to himself in years. The black material stretched around his endowment and over his ass. They felt much better than the boxers he had worn, giving his already strong body a sleeker look. Warm pleasure engulfed his dick, forcing Marcus to pause for a moment to control himself.

Next he proceeded with the pants. Well worn and faded, they fit around his legs perfectly, showing off his developed thighs and calves. The briefs also seemed to support his cock better, making it look bigger beneath the pants. Brute handed him a military belt that clasped easily against his small waist. Now he really looked like a model, the waistband of the briefs coming over the jeans, highlighting his hard abs and pecs. The polo took no effort to pull on, but it was contoured to his body. His massive lats gave his a marvelous V shape, from the years of swimming. The logo was stretched across his heart, and he could almost see it moving as his heart pumped. He put on the shoes and stood to look at himself in the mirror.

A god stared back at him. Every part of his body magnified by the clothes, he looked like a total jock.

“Fucking awesome, man!” Brute said. “Oh fuck! One last fucking thing, fucker.” He held up the cologne and sprayed a mist into Marcus’ face. He coughed as he inhaled the fumes. The room seemed to spin as he did. It became hard to think or concentrate. But he could hear one thing. In the background, he could hear football. The running, plays, yelling. It was so familiar and friendly, and right. It felt right. Something about the scent of football caused him to go deeper into it. He surrendered his life easily. Becoming Mark, a dumb jock. The hot dumb jock. The entire time he groped his own cock.

When the room was covered in something almost like cum, Brute smiled. Mark got up and stared, just as dumb and obedient as any other.

 

CHAPTER 6

Locked in the room with the jocks, Chloe was the first to react. She immediately took her hammer and slammed it into the cup of the nearest man. She turned around and thrust her body into another one behind her. Kai slammed the baseball bat into two of the men before a third grabbed it and crushed it with his bare hand. He punched Kai, knocking him into Chloe and sending the pair to the floor. Kai grabbed Chloe up and ran through the herd, elbowing one in the neck as they darted past. They ran into another room and crouched behind a counter.

“What do we do now?” Chloe whispered. Kai looked back to see the group heading in search of the duo.
“Okay, you need to get through that door,” Kai said, pointing across the room. “I’m going to distract them.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Being rather chivalrous here, aren’t we?”
“Just go.” Chloe stared for a second before landing a small kiss on lips, winking her eye, and crawling away. Kai reached inside his bag and pulled out two baseballs. He stood up and threw one towards the jocks, but it landed nowhere near them. They turned and he nailed one in the head with the second. A momentary cheer to himself and Kai darted off towards the uniform rooms, pursued by a the herd. It wasn’t really easy. They were designed for this kind of thing after all. In fact, chasing down an opponent- kind of their reason for being. It wasn’t surprising when they caught up with him. He was trapped in a small room. As he was preparing to fight. A hand grabbed him from behind and held a clothe over his mouth. Struggling for just a moment, Kai soon collapsed into the hands of the stranger.

****************

Chloe quickly slipped through the other door, and closed and locked it behind her. Letting out a sigh of relief, Chloe turned around and found herself in the XAP storage room. In the center of the room was a large capsule, with dozens of tubes and wires extending outward from it. Off to one side, she saw a panel that some of the cords went into. She stepped up to it and began searching through. The machine was set to just blast massive amounts of XAP into the atmosphere. That wasn’t her actual concern. She began pouring through the data, searching for any mention of TAN1. She paused for a second, unsure why. They a strong hand punched the side of her face.

Chloe was knocked to the ground as she turned to face her attacker.

“Moore, nice to see.” Chloe called her former boss, who now went by the name Moose.
“You ready to do this, bitch!” Roared back a bovine voice, acting like a professional wrestler.
“Moore than you’d ever know,” she retorted as she lifted herself up. He ran towards her and swung with his right hand, but Chloe easily sidestepped and tripped him with her foot. She reached into her hair and pulled out her pin.
“I am going to rip you apart little girl!”
“I don’t think so,” she said as he charged. He grabbed Chloe and lifted her up as she pressed the pin into his eye. Screaming in pain and covering his left eye, he dropped Chloe to the ground.
“What’s the matter. Suddenly not seeing so well?” Moose screamed again and punched Chloe in her gut. The wind knocked out of her, she stumbled to the ground and clutched her stomach.
“Fuck you!” Moose yelled as Chloe crawled away behind some of the equipment. Moose was tearing through the room, throwing boxes and machines aside in her rampant search for Chloe. A little bit of blood was coming out of her mouth, and she crawled away from the racket being made by the enraged Moose.

Chloe managed to stand up and search through the rubble. Moose was on the warpath, and the XAP pumping through his body had already healed the damage she did to his eye. In fact, suffering physical pain only made him more determined to destroy her. There was a large metal pipe on the ground, something Moose had thrown. One of the edges was broken, leaving a sharp blade on one side. Chloe took only a second deciding before she committed.

“Hey, Moose! Moore! Jock boy!” The muscle man turned towards her and began to charge forward. Chloe held the pipe against her breasts and waited for him to impact with her. She had never felt anything like it. The shear force he put into the tackle, the rage, the effort. For just a moment, Chloe found herself truly amazed with the mindless devotion. These men sacrificed their own bodies for the team. They really were nothing.

Chloe pushed the pipe down with all of her strength. It got stuck on something, but she pushed harder. Moose was on top of her, their combined mass slamming into the ground. Chloe let out a tiny grunt as she pressed even harder. There was a sound, like metal on metal. And then the sound of flesh separating. Moose looked at her in astonishment. The color began to fade from his body as his hyper masculine form began to revert to his former identity. The muscle in his body began to dissolve and pour out through the whole she made in his crotch. Finally, the body collapsed on her, and a second later dissolved into dust and blew away.

Chloe laid there for another moment, taking it all in. She tried to lift herself up, but it was too much. With a final struggle, she passed out on the floor.

****************

“Alright, you ready to watch the video?” Chase Smith, a 5’10 170 pounds male whose ethnicity would be described as “all races” – his parents having been half African/half European, and half Chinese/ half Brazilian – looked up at the other boy. Trent Woods had been his guide at the university. They hadn’t actually toured yet; the video was the first part. Chase wasn’t remotely interested in this school, but by coming and watching some stupid orientation video he got a free computer.

“Uh, sure, let’s go,” Chase told Trent. Trent smiled and walked towards the computer. At least the school was pretty tech savvy, having a flash video or something rather than a VHS. Trent was on the football team. That much Chase has already learned. He was a big boy, too. He was probably about 6’8, bulging muscles rolling beneath his blue button down shirt, black tie and black slacks. When he turned around, Chase got a prime view of his ass. It wasn’t a cute, bubble butt. It was literally the largest ass Chase had ever seen. His pants were pulled up high on his backside, with a belt holding the pants at his waist. The whole effect wasn’t bad necessarily, the fashion at Chase’s school was boys pants barely hanging on the body.

The lights dimmed and the video started. It was all howdy and welcome to the school. Academic highlights, and then sports. Lots of sports. Well, lots of football team. Big shots of the team charging onto the field. Scenes of bone-crushing hits and near impossible passes. Men juking through defenses and defenders slamming their opponents into the ground. Visions of the weight room, practice fields and athletic dorms covered the screen for almost an hour. Chase was staring intently at the screen, his eyes wide and his mouth open, as the lights came on. Trent came up and gave him a friendly punch, and placed a black leather belt in his hand. Chase looked up at him, dazed.

“Pretty boring, right?” Trent smiled. Chase quickly closed his mouth and shook his head.
“Uh, no… it was… cool.”
“Good, well dude, let’s get your computer tuned up.” Trent started to walk out of the room. Chase got up and unconsciously looped the belt through his pants. He pulled them higher than usual and cinched the belt, causing his ass to stand out more.

Chase followed Trent into another room, where Trent sat behind a desk with a computer on it, and Chase sat in front of him.

“Alright dude,” Trent began. “Now we gotta get the specs for this baby ready! So, first up… how much hard drive do you want?”

Chase stared at Trent for a moment, confused. He should know what the larger man was talking about. Chase knew computers, in fact he vaguely thought he wanted to major in them. But right now he couldn’t remember. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, dude. Hard drive is like how big it is. How much it can hold. You wanna be able to hold a lot. You wanna be huge, bro.”
“Oh, yeah, cool. Huge hard drive then.”
“Sweetness,” Trent smiled as he typed into the computer. “Now, the next part is RAM.” Noting Chase’s bewildered look, Trent continued. “RAM is like, overall performance, how much it can do.”
“Well, I don’t want it doing too much. I, umm, I don’t wanna deal with lots of stuff at once.”
“Oh right, dude. But this will basically, like, it’s like you body. More RAM is like better walking and talking and tasks and stuff. It just makes your system run better.”
“Oh, well, then big RAM I guess, dude.”
“Totally!” Trent smiled as he typed more. “Okay, last one here is the processor speed. How fast it thinks.”
“Umm, dude… like I dunno.”
“Bro, you totally don’t need a big processor. You only wanna focus on like one or two things at a time, right.”
“Totally dude! Like, I wanna be big and perform well, but like, I don’t need da like do shit tons at once.”
“Got it, small processor. Well, that’s the whole of it. Now I’ll send it in and it should be ready in an hour or so. Wanna take a tour until then?”
“Sure dude,” Chase said as he lifted himself out of his seat. Trent, in his tight dress shirt and slacks led the way out the door. He should Chase the student union, and some class buildings, and past the student dorms.

“Hey dude,” Chase said, causing Trent to stop walking. “Can we, like, see da places from the orientation video. Like, the athletic dorms and practice fields and weight rooms?”
“Sure, bro. In fact, the offensive line coach is the one in charge of our recruiting program for the school.”

Trent led Chase over to the football stadium, and inside a training center that was behind it.

“This the indoor practice facility, let’s the team train without outsiders watching. Also, more control over the weather.” Trent led Chase into a large open area that was basically a giant football stadium without the stands. There were muscular men in uniform running a series of drills and plays.

“Shouldn’t you be here practicing?” Chase asked.
“Nah, there are rotations. I do the touring and such, so I miss these practices. I do early mornings and night ones instead. We have training at all hours of the day.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah, it’s fucking awesome!” The players seemed to be finishing up and practice was winding down. Trent led Chase to a thick man in khaki pants and a blue and white polo.
“Coach Pounder, this is Chase Smith. I’m giving him the tour.” The huge man turned around and offered his hand to Chase.
“Nice to meet ya, big guy. So, excited for a new computer?”
“Umm, well, no… I mean, this school is pretty cool.”
“That a boy! Glad to hear it, we have a great football team, and the athletics here at top notch.”
“I can tell Mr. Pounder,” Chase replied, which caused Pounder’s face to darken.
“It’s Coach Pounder or Coach. Off field Pounder. Never Mister. You only get one of those, kid.”
“Umm, okay Coach.”
“So, how you liking the school?”
“Oh, it’s cool. Great sports facilities.”
“Yeah, son. We pride ourselves on our fitness.”
“I can tell Mr. Pounder.”
“Run a lap.”
“What?”
“Mister Pounder. Run a lap.”
“What, Mr. Pounder? I don’t…”
“Don’t argue! Do it NOW!”
“Yes Coach!” Chase said and he took off running around the field. Once he got to the end zone, and was about a quarter done, Pounder yelled at him.
“What’s my name?”
“Coach Pounder!”
“What’s my name!?”
“Coach Pounder!”
“Again!”
“Coach!”
“Again!”
“Coach Pounder.”
“Keep saying it!”
“You are Coach Pounder! You are Coach Pounder! You are Coach Pounder!” Chase yelled as he continued around the field. When he got near the starting point, Pounder barked at him.
“You called me Mister twice, actually. Another lap. Now, who am I?”
“You are Coach Pounder!” Chase huffed as he continued running.
“And what do I Coach?”
“Football!”
“What position?”
“Umm, Offensive line! You are the offensive line Coach!”
“Who am I?”
“You are Coach Pounder, the offensive line coach! You are Coach Pounder, the offensive line coach! You are Coach Pounder, the offensive line coach!” Chase finally huffed to the finish, sweat pouring off his face, his shirt covered in sweat.
“Good man!” Pounder said as he slapped Chase on his ass.
“Yes Coach!” Chase said proudly.
“Wanna try something else?” Pounder asked.
“Yes! What?”
“Let’s do a drill. Wanna practice blocking?”
“Sure!”
“Alright, well Trent will take you to the lockers. You two get changed.”
“Yes Coach,” they both answered in unison. Inside the lockers, Trent gave Chase a compression shorts, blue mesh shorts with Football on the left leg, socks and cleats, a sleeveless underarmor shirt, pads, and a practice jersey. Finally, he gave him a helmet that fit perfectly. Chase looked at the two of them in the mirror before heading out. There was definitely something different than before. His arms really stretched out of the jersey, with big veins dissecting his overdeveloped biceps. Thick trunks of legs tore out of the spandex shorts, leading down to pineapple sized calves. His neck look wider than his head, and corded with thick veiny muscle. He shrugged it off and walked to the field.

“Great guys!” Pounder said as the identical looking men walked to him. “Now, three-point stance!” Instantly, both men got down, asses up and bodies ready. Testosterone and other fluids churned through their bodies, preparing them. It was antagonizing and important. This part, waiting. Finally Pounder blew his whistle. Trent and Chase both immediately shot forward, slamming their gloriously muscular bodies into the repellant frames of the sled. Pounder hollered at them the entire time, while the two boys put all their energy into pushing the heavy sled across the field. Coach kept shouting directions and instructions, tips and techniques, and the boys adjusted themselves accordingly. Finally, four times across the entirety of the field, Pounder blew his whistle again. Both boys stood before their coach and took off their helmets. In front of Pounder were two nearly identical men. Huge and tan, with jet black hair that was matted down with sweat. Large foreheads and thick lips.

“Good job boys! Hope you had fun Chase.”
“Yessir, Coach! It was fucking awesome!”
“Glad you liked it. You know, I wouldn’t mind offering you a place on the team. We could use another lineman this season.”
“Seriously, Coach?”
“Interested Chase?”
“Fuck yeah, Coach! I mean, yes Coach! I would fucking love it!”
“Well then, Chase Smith, I’ll go draw up the papers. In the meantime, why don’t you boys shower and get dressed.” Trent slapped Chase on the back and led him back to the lockers. They carelessly stripped off their clothes and threw them into a large laundry bag. After engaging in some mild nude horseplay, they headed for the showers. Chase stood under the water and soaped his body with the musky bars provided for the team. It seemed strange, rubbing the bar over his brutish pecs. But then he just smiled and enjoyed. It was hard getting the bar between the two huge muscles of his ass, but he managed to shove it between and clean himself. Since they couldn’t reach their own backs, Chase and Trent each scrubbed the other down, in a tough jock manner. They walked out nude and grabbed some towels, scrubbed off and threw them into the laundry as well.

Chase walked right to a locker next to Trent and opened it. Inside was a pair of white spandex briefs. For a moment the whole situation seemed wrong, but then he stretched the fabric apart and shoved on huge leg through the opening, then the other. Finally he gently tugged the fabric up, slowly covering the luscious mound of his ass. He turned to face Trent, who tanned muscular body was equally covered in white briefs. Chase let out a bovine laugh and then put on a white tank top and a blue button down shirt. He stepped into his black slacks and pulled them high over his waist and cinched them at his natural waist. It was really showed off his huge butt and he loved it that way. A black tie and some dress shoes later, and he was once again dressed identically to Trent. They walked to some mirrors and put a super strong gel in their hair, giving them both the jock spike. They high fived and walked out of the locker room.

“Alright, bro! Just gotta finish that computer.”
“Fuck dude,” Chase answered. “We gotta do that now? What about Coach, bro?”
“Relax dude, this is the last part.”

When they got back to the orientation room, Pounder was already there.
“Hi Coach,” both players grunted in unison.
“Hi boys. So, Chase, the computer.”
“Oh Coach Pounder, I don’t fucking care about the computer. I just wanna be on the team.”
“Good thing Chase, just a few more things. We wanna give you some programs too. We were thinking offensive plays, o-line drills, team spirit, sports center. Jocks programs. None of that nerd crap.”
“Okay Coach! That’s fuckin’ awesome dude!”
“Great, well… it’s all uploaded. I know what’s best for my players. Well, it’s in your new room at the athletic dorms. I have you and Trent rooming together.”
“Sweet dude!”
“Thanks Coach Pounder!” The two boys once again high-fived.
“No sweat. Now, one last thing. Chase, I was hoping you would also work in the recruitment office with Trent.”
“Sure thing Coach! I fucking love to work for ya!”
“Good, tomorrow we have a whole group from a private boys school and I’ll need the two of you to handle it! We could use a few more men on the team!”
“Yes Coach!” Pounder slapped them both on the ass as they swaggered out. They engaged in some more punching and horseplay on the way to the dorm. Inside, was two oversized beds, designed to accommodate their huge bulk. There was a closet, full of school clothing, workout gear, and spandex. And a TV with only sports channels. No desks, no computers. Nothing they didn’t need for their happy lives as beefy football jocks.

 

CHAPTER 7

Kai woke up in the press box. He could see the entire field from the windows. He could have watched the upcoming conflict between Adam and Brock. But he was a little more concerned with the man in front of him. Buffed out and Jocked out, Kai still recognized him.

“Oh, Jamie,” Kai muttered.
“Call me Jay,” came the cocky voice.
“How about Carter? It is your last name.”
“Fuck last names, dude. I’m fucking awesome!” he saw while flexing his biceps. Kai’s face was overcome with disgust.
“This is really what you want to be?”
“Uh, fuck yeah, bro! Don’t you get it? Brock, he’s god, man! Like, this is totally awesome. And you could have fucking had it.”
“You caused this Jamie. This is, to some extent, your fault.”
“Fuck dude, this is all I want.”
“Pathetic.”
“No dude, you are the only pathetic one. I’m a man.”
“You’re a boy wearing a man’s suit. You always were Jamie.”
“What the fuck?”
“Grow up. I have. And I mean actually grow up. Don’t pretend. Accept responsibility for yourself.”
“You’re one to talk about personal responsibility, bro.”
“Well, I’m accepting it now. Life sucks sometimes. We hurt, we deal, we move on. We become who we are supposed to be. Not what others want us to be.”
“Yeah, you think you can take me, mothafucker?” He said as he flexed again for Kai.
“Bring it.” Jay’s eyes got very narrow for a second and his breathing increased. He let out a beastly roar as he tackled Kai. The pair knocked to the ground, Kai tried to press Jay off of him, while the other man began trying to punch Kai. Fortunately, super jock wasn’t super fighter and he managed to punch the floor a lot more than Kai. Finally, kicking his neck, Kai thrust Jay off of his and got to his feet. He looked the bull monster straight in its eyes are Kai charged forward and smashed himself against Jay’s midsection. It wasn’t much, but it managed to throw the much larger man off balance. Jay grabbed the back of Kai’s shirt while trying to regain his balance and threw Kai onto the floor.

Jay looked down at Kai much like a beast stalking it’s prey. He jumped in the air and intended to drop onto Kai, who managed to roll out of the way at the last moment. Jay ended up smashing a control desk and parts of the sound system. We Will Rock You began to churn out from the stadiums sound system.

“You know what’s funny?” Kai said, spitting a small amount of blood from his mouth. “I was called Rock when I was a jock. And now, I am gonna rock your world,” he said as he grabbed a splinter from the desk and sat down on Jay. Jay responded by grabbing Kai’s neck and squeezing, hard. Kai couldn’t breath and felt the world becoming dark rather suddenly. But he took the piece of artificial wood and pressed down hard right above the cup. As the world got darker, he pressed harder and harder. And just when things seemed to be slipping away, Kai heard a strange noise. It was guttural. A carnal scream. Kai’s hands were being covered in a strange grey goo, slightly thick and very sticky. Jay’s face was a mix of rage and horror, as his bestial jock features began to melt into his old mousy face. His muscles deflated like letting air out of a balloon. And moments later, the last remnants of Jamie (Jay) Carter was a small cloud of dust covering Kai.

Kai bowed his head for a moment.

“You always were dick-less, Jamie,” Kai said, shaking his head. He paused for a moment to consider his options. Adam was facing Brock and he had no idea where Chloe was. But they had to stop Brock and end his reign of madness. He was badly bruised and desperately needing some oxygen. It was exhilarating and exciting. And for a just a moment, Kai realized what some people really liked about being alive.

****************

It had been an ordinary day in prison. Guys in cells, guards walking by, medical checks, food and such. It was getting late in the evening when there was a loud sort of groan from outside. The whole place wasn’t exactly insulated, so it was easy to hear. The guards phoned in, but it seemed nothing happened. Then a few men walked in.

They didn’t look like normal men. They were big and muscular, thick necks and huge pecs. Ape like faces with vacuous eyes. But most surprisingly, they were deck out in full football uniforms- cleat, socks, pants, pads, jersey, but no helmets. And they were carrying in one of the guards from outside. He was coughing and pulling at the neck of his shirt. They drop him on to the ground, where he began to squirm and moan. The other guards pulled out their weapons and aimed at the football players.

Suddenly, the guard on the floor screamed. He began to quake and tremor as his body began to expand. His polyester police uniform began to stretch and expand. The boots retracted, leaving high socks and cleats, as the pants climbed upwards, becoming thick spandex that highlighted chiseled thighs. His chest began to jut out, forming large, hard mounds of beef. His uniform was quickly forming shoulder pads and a jersey. His face contorted in pain as his jaw become perfectly square and his hair became a short buzz cut. He stood up, flexed his newly huge biceps and shouted, “Fuck yeah!”

The other men began to clutch at their bodies, feeling immense pain. An inmate convict of hate crimes watched as his white supremacy tattoos disappeared into dark chocolaty skin. His muscle began to contort and grow, pushing outward from his body. His hair grew out into a kinky mane of dreadlocks, as his jumpsuit was becoming a tight football uniform.

Two of the guards were rolling on the ground now. One was clutching his stomach, as a painful six pack was being carved into his body. His shirt was gaining spandex panels on the side, matching the color of the jersey. He felt his ass ballooning up behind him, slowly stretching the nearly lycra pants to their limit, leaving the distinct line of a jockstrap on his ass. The other guards back was twitching uncontrollably, as his laterals began to expand outward, every moment pressing his shirt further and further out. It was forcing his shoulders back and causing his spine to go into perfect alignment. He felt a burning sensation on his chest as tattoos began burning into his newly acquired pecs. He watched in amazement as his hands began thick and calloused. Finally, the new weight of their bodies sunk in, and their uniforms were complete. They let out a masculine, “Fuck yeah!”

One of the prisoners near the front bellowed deep animalistic sounds as his chest burst forward with thick slabs of pectorals. His shirt increased their size just a tiny bit, as his already broad shoulders gained a layer of protective padding. Suddenly, a number began to appear on the front of his shirt, and it was even larger in the back. He could feel the jersey pull tight across his glorious masculine form, preventing opponents from grabbing on and pulling him down. His brain began to dissolve in his head, along with memories of crimes and gangs and girls and drugs. Knowledge of plays and gym routines and proteins filled the space, leaving a happy hollow bastion of football in their wake.

There was another guy in the back, small and mousey. His head was twitching violently from side to side as his traps began to spasm and slowly swallowed his neck. At the same time, his once long penis began to thicken, from the size of a finger to the rough girth of a tuna fish can. At the same time, it was being pushed up and out, held carefully in the cold hard shell of his cup. His angular face began overly large and square- brutish with a wide flat nose and oversized lips. Tearing at every seam, his jumpsuit began to gain a light sheen as the fabric became stretchy, helping to cover the ample muscles now creeping over his body. The inmate across from him was lying on the ground, his body burning in agony. His calves began to inflate until they were almost a singular entity with his ankles and knees. Taunt hamstrings began to bow out the back of his legs, their muscular curvature slowly caressing up to his now high, meaty ass- suddenly covered in tight pants. A belt began to cinch around his waist, highlighting the vast difference between his tiny waist and the massive upper body of the new jock.

Inside the cells, a Hispanic man was clinging to his hair as it began to sink into his skull, causing his forehead to grow bigger. Dark hairs began to creep down his forearms and chest, tracing the lines of new muscles. His shoulder pads began to press out from the jump suit, improving his posture and tightening his clothes. He could feel the pants riding up his luscious booty, forming a neat little indent around the cleft of each cheek. Across the way, another guy’s hamstrings were bursting with new strength, lengthening his body and increasing his speed. He watched as each individual muscle of the quadriceps became huge and individually defined beneath the elastic confines of the pants. Finally, he could feel cock, his super massive cock covered, protected by a hard metal cup. He reached to adjust himself and smiled. Then remaining men all yell, “Fuck yeah!”

Once the whole unit was Jocked, they could feel it. The completion of their team. In perfect unison, in their deep bovine voices they all cheered, “FUCK YEAH!”

There were other men in the cells. Some went from black to white, others white to black or Asian or Hispanic. The constant was muscle. Each man found his body recreated into a paragon of muscle and masculinity. Gone were the old allegiances and beliefs, replaced with one single burning desire. When the guards opened the cells, teammates walked out. Their brothers, their comrades. Each dressed identically, only the number on the jersey would reveal any individuality once the helmets were on. They stood in a circle and jumped up and down and cheered and chanted. They talked about dominating the other team, sacrificing their bodies for the team. Former criminals and guards lined up together on the defensive line. A previous convict quarterback took the snap from the guard outside his cell. Glorious proclamations to muscle and brotherhood were all that remained. All men were allies in football and muscle.

And life was good.

 

CHAPTER 8

“Finally?” Adam asked.
“Yes, finally, it is time.”
“For what? The final battle.”
“For you to submit to me.”
“I thought we were over this, Brock? I don’t submit.”
“I’m more powerful now.”
“Try me.” Brock punched Adam with his right fist, which Adam blocked by holding up his right hand, letting the blow impact his forearm. Both men stared at Adam’s wrist for a moment.
“Been working out?” Brock asked.
“I do seem unusually strong.” Brock punched with his left fist this time, with identical results. He stepped back and swung high at Adam’s head, but he ducked and kicked Brock in the leg. A look of confusion graced Adam’s face.
“Huh?” He said looked at his fist. “Guess this might go a little different than I planned.”
“You’re still not strong enough.” Brock began to really fight Adam. For all his might, Adam only managed to block one or two hits before he started to feel the impact of the fight. He collapsed to his knees and Brock held the back of his skull and tilted his head back to look into his eyes.
“Just relax, Adam. Or Bricke. I’ll call you Bricke. It’s so easy, to just, relax. Let go. Just have fun. No more stress or worries. Just life, and a simple dedication. Let me show you.” Adam found himself zoning out to the sound of Brock’s voice. Finally, his vision faded out.

Before he even opened his eyes, he noticed the smell. It was strong and musky and manly. Just the way he liked it. He opened his eyes to find his vision blocked by strange lines. This seemed perfectly normal though. Four men knelt in front of him. Their jockstrapped asses prominently on display to him, despite the sheer lycra pants covering them. They were balanced on one hand and their toes, waiting in anticipation. They faced five other men in similar positions. There was someone behind those men. He was so familiar and powerful. Someone that he just adored. Then he felt it.

The man behind the line moved back, and everyone charged. Almost unconsciously, he found himself running backwards, keeping himself facing the man on the other side. One guy from the other side was running over. And a ball was flying towards him. He effortlessly stepped in front of the ball and picked it out of the air and began running the other way. Somewhere, he knew he needed to get his ball somewhere. It was so important. He was quickly brought to the ground by the man who he had blocked. He got up and the receiver gave him a hard slap on the ass. It made him feel so good.

“See Bricke? Isn’t it great?” He looked up to see the man from the other side. Brock, the quarterback. The super fucking awesome quarterback. And he was a linebacker. A brick wall linebacker. It was awesome. He rushed the quarterback and blocked the receivers. Against the other teams. This was just practice. No one could rush Brock, he is such a fucking badass. Bricke spent the day running through plays and drills. Directing the line. He could just touch one of defensive linemen’s huge, hot asses and they would shift or change direction. Especially Rock, he was a bitchin mothafucka!

Once practice was over, they went into the locker room, where they all stripped off their gear, flaunting their glorious, nude bodies. Each man a hard testament to the power and dedication football took. Bricke could feel every hard muscle on his body. And he did not have to touch to feel, he could actually sense every fiber pulsating with incredible strength and drive. His bulky biceps, bulging out from any jersey or shit, flexed with raw power. A true demonstration of manhood. On the other side, his triceps drawn so tightly. Every inch of his legs, he could feel the power to run and push, the mountainous force designed only to play football. Each perky cheek of his ass, so huge and strong. His chest, he could feel every filament that crept through his huge pecs. It was the most perfect feeling. His body had no flaws, just a perfect design to achieve maximum performance in his life’s work. Football. Just thinking the words made him feel amazing. Pride surged though his testosterone heavy body every time football passed through his brainless head which, given the limitations of his thinking capacity, was often.

In the shower, they soaped of their rough bodies and laughed at stupid jokes. Deep guttural laughs. They sounded like a yard of juiced bulls, laughing at their own innate stupidity. Just the way it was supposed to be. He rubbed hard against his huge muscles, being careful to clean his ass and dick, where he tended to sweat a lot. Then the whole team change into spandex running shorts and tank tops, where they headed to get some food, protein shakes and chicken breasts. After some group burping, they headed to the gym to make their massive, hulking bodies even more muscular.

Each day was filled with the same routine. Hard practice and sweaty fields. Team showers and meals. Workouts, and the best. Games. Football games. Where Bricke sacked the quarterback and intercepted balls. Where his entire being was validated. Every muscle and fiber and XAP producing cell in his body was filled with power and rage and a desire to play football. To crush his opponents. To win. And he did. He always won. Bricke and Brock and Rock. The whole team. Every muscle jock always won. No matter the team. There was always another game, another workout. Another chance to become a bigger, better jock. Stronger, dumber, and angrier. To ascend. To become the thing he was always meant to be. A dumb, muscular jock. With no thoughts or concerns. No pressure. He never felt alone or different. He always belonged. Just another uber jock with the team. One piece of the puzzle. Part of something bigger. The biggest, the best. The team.

Bricke was a jock.

 

CHAPTER 9

Adam was lying on a couch. It was soft, probably microfiber. He was naked, aside from a pair of white trunks covering his most private regions. The couch was outside, on a beach. The water brushed slowly against obsidian shores, the violet and chartreuse liquid pouring itself over nonexistent holes. The small ridges of his abs moved slightly under each deep breath that escaped his slim form. He smelled the salty air and gently opened his eyes to look into a pair of deep, dark brown eyes. Rather large, with long lashes. A tiny smile escaped the lips as he realized the other boy was awake.

The boy on top of Adam was lithe and charming. Black hair and brown eyes. His body was small but cute. Also nude, but for some black boxer briefs. Young, with a light covering of hair on the chest. Adam reached up and gently brushed the fuzz and let out a small sigh.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” He asked Adam.
“Yeah, the salty breeze.”
“You love the ocean.”
“I do.”
“Rainbow waters on obsidian shores. Your mind is a special place.”
“Darren...what is this?” Adam asked. The light boy let out a soft laugh and a big smile. He waved his hand whimsically, and brushed Adam’s face with his hand.
“This is yours. Your world.”
“Mine?”
“You have it too, you know?”
“What?”
“What it’s about. The thing,” Darren smiled again. “You’re really beautiful. You look like, like a... well not like I guess.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“You never got the chance to,” Darren said, frowning. Adam gave him a sympathetic frown. “Oh, it’s okay by me. It was a long time ago. You play the hand the hand your dealt....all that crap.” He laughed again. The obsidian sands were now a grassy dell, and the wondrous ocean flowed in the sky overhead.
“You have such a strange mind, Adam.”
“Darren, I wish you could have lived.”
“Why is your ocean violet and chartreuse? And why are we on a couch?”
“I feel close to you.”
“You feel like I’m covering you, dragging you down. I’m not, you know?”
“You don’t drag me down, Darren.”
“I am you. You got that, right? I was never a person. My body belongs to another, and my soul is yours.”
“I still don’t think I understand,” Adam said as the ocean began to rain yellow and purple.
“Oh, look at the couch, it’s gonna be ruined. The stains on my body will wash away.”
“Will they, really?”
“With time, everything will wash away. You already knew that.”
“I never got to know you.”
“You have forever. I’ll always be with you. As you. It’s not a burden, it’s a birthright.”
“Chosen?”
“Betrothed.”
“What is it then? Sex, drugs, rock ‘n roll? No, it’s about power, isn’t it?”
“You really haven’t gotten it.” Darren pressed his body close to Adam, feeling the heat generated between the forms grow. Adam felt something, passion and lust. His breathing began to get heavy and energetic.
“When I kiss you,” Darren said, “your world doesn’t have to end. Two can become one.”
“Are you going to kiss me?” The rain had stopped now, and the grass was gone. The ocean and the couch were all that existed. The water was under them and above them, it consumed the rest of the world.
“Stop dividing yourself. Embrace.”
“Embrace…. Myself?”
“Ready to fight?”
“What am I? I just... can it stay this way? A little longer?”
“It can. It can always be this way. It’s up to you. After all,” he said as he gently brushed his lips over Adam, “it’s about you.” And then Adam felt something. A rush, a euphoria. For one small second, time stopped and the world was whole again. And, finally, so was Adam.

 

CHAPTER 10

Brock was holding Adam’s head in his hand, pushing his will into the others mind. Adam seemed to sink slowly into the ground. And then, he tilted his head up and looked Brock in the eyes.

“You know, I think I’m back,” Adam said as he grabbed Brock’s hand and thrust him away.
“You’ll regret this,” Brock said.
“No, I won’t.” Brock let out an inhuman scream and ran forward. He launched a series of pummels at Adam, who managed to evade them and gave Brock a good gut punch in turn. Brock stumbled backwards and then steadied himself on the ground. Clenching his fists, Adam watched as a strange cloud seemed to form around Brock, and his muscles swelled even further.
“Oh shit,” Adam said. Veins were now pushing through every inch of the spandex pants, from the thighs and neck to the ass. Brock was a grotesque and impossible fixture of muscular masculinity.
“I will crush you, muthafucka!” Brock’s even deeper voice screamed.
“I’m screwed,” Adam said and he began to look around for help. Thankfully, he saw Kai running down from the press box, and on the other side a rather beaten Chloe limping out. The three met up at the twenty yard line opposite Brock.

“He’s gotten bigger…” Kai said.
“Yeah,” Chloe responded. “He’s absorbing all the XAP into himself. All the energy it takes to control the other jocks. I passed some on my way. They’re pretty much just standing around with their mouths open.”
“So what do we do?” Adam asked.
“Well,” Chloe began. “I have an answer. Adam, you fight him. If you really are the same as him you should be able to use XAP.”
“Great time to learn,” Kai muttered.
“Oh, and the other part. TAN1. There’s none left. But! And this is kind of a big but… Kai, you can use it.” Seeing the shocked look on his face, she continued. “It’s just like XAP, mobile editing substance, except… opposite.”
“Come again?”
“TAN1 blocks the carbon bonding of XAP. Basically, you’re a black hole for XAP. Now, you can’t do tons of XAP, but since Adam should be using it too, and plus it looks like Brock is absorbing it into himself…. I think you’ll be fine. So suck it up!”
“What?”
“Ugh, I am the brains here. Adam, use XAP to attack Brock. Kai, use TAN1 to stop Brock from attacking.”
“Easier said then done,” Adam shrugged.
“Right, well, we won’t know until you two try.”
“Us?” They both answered in unison.
“Uh huh. So… get in the game… or some such … pep talky…. Words…. And dammit! Just go!”

Kai and Adam left an annoyed Chloe as they headed towards the now mutant Brock.
“So, how do you think this works?” Kai asked.
“Dunno.”
“Good. Glad to know we have a plan.”
“YOU HAVE A PLAN FUCKERS!” Chloe screamed, much further away than she should have been able to hear them.
“Right,” Adam said. “We… have a plan.”
“And that plan this?”
“Play?”

 

CHAPTER 11

Adam walked towards Brock, his heavy body heavy up and down with each breath. Kai stood off to the side, unsure.
“You ready?”
“I’m gonna kill you,” Brock answered. And at that moment, out of the nothing, there was suddenly a football, made of stone, which he threw, with alarming accuracy at Adam. For his part, Adam only had to a moment to jump aside before the flying missile nearly killed him. Then Brock threw another, causing Adam to toss his body to the ground. One more and Adam had barely managed to flip over and avoid getting his head smashed in.

“Kai! Do something!” Chloe yelled. Brock created another football and put his arm back. Kai focused on the ball and as it was released it sort of softened and moved slower. Adam took the blow to his stomach, but it was more like a small rock hit him than the stone torpedo.

Adam stood up and charged towards Brock, who sent another flying. Kai kept trying to figure out what to do, how to make it stop. The ball cut the side of Adam’s face, but he hurtled forward. Brock threw another, but when it hit Adam it was soft, like fabric. Finally, directly in front of Brock, the ball hit Adam square in the head. But it wasn’t a ball. It was a roll of toilet paper, that unrolled helplessly onto the stadium turf.

Adam pulled his right hand back and clenched his fist tightly. As he swung, his arm changed. The taunt, lithe muscles began to grow. Adam’s veins began to bulge as his biceps grew, his triceps expanded, and his forearms began thick and meaty. The blow from the punch pushed Brock back, who responded with a punch to Adam’s face. Spitting out blood, Adam wiped his face and charged forward. Brock nailed him in his chest. As the fist impacted him, Adam’s pecs began to swell. Not obscene and huge, but large and practical. Muscles gained from fighting. The new found pec lessened the blow, and Adam responded by kicking Brock in his stomach.

Adam’s leg grew with the kick. Tiny calves gained size and definition. His legs quadrupled in size, with taunt hamstrings hiding behind thick, wide quads. Brock threw another football, but Adam simply reached forward and grabbed it between his hands. He tucked it in his left arm, cradled between his bicep and his pecs. His shoulders burst through the sleeves of his shirt, exposing broad, sexy shoulders. He laterals swooped out and destroyed the remains of the shirt. Strong, developed muscles traced the path from his bowling ball shoulders to his tiny waist. Without the shirt, everyone could watch as Adam’s once faint abs began to carve their way into his body. He developed an Apollo’s belt that would be the envy of any male model. And his pants were becoming increasingly tight as a tight, high ass began to rise up his backside.

Brock stood in shock as Adam caught the ball and began to charge at him. Adam took the ball and threw it straight into Brock’s face, who blocked it with ease. He tried to gut punch Adam, but he simply took it like a man, and decked Brock across his face. Then he pulled him close and gave him a nasty head butt.

“Go Adam!” He could hear Chloe shout.
“Okay, I think I got it! I think I got it!” Kai said. As Adam approached Brock and picked him up off the floor, he noticed how different he looked. He was …smaller. Or maybe he was bigger. No, he was bigger. But Brock was definitely getting smaller. The once cartoon like features were being reduced to something more human. More real. It was only another moment before Brock’s and Adam’s bodies were the same size.

Brock suddenly lunged forward and slammed Adam into he ground. He took that moment to begin laying into Adam’s face, blackening his eyes and breaking his nose. Adam kicked up his legs and threw Brock backwards.

“You think you’re special? Look at you, all tough and buff. Just like me,” Brock taunted. Adam didn’t reply, he simply stared the former muscle beast in the eyes as he wiped the blood from his nose. He pulled his right hand back, and grabbed the air. In his hand, was a metal football. Cold steel. He cocked his eye at Brock before hurling the ball at him and instantly creating another. Brock managed to dodge the first one, and block the second.

Over on the side lines, Kai’s eyes were closed and his fists were clamped as he put all his energy into one idea. One single concept. Make Brock weaker. Whatever it took to make him less, that’s what they needed. When Brock tried to block the balls, Kai tried to stop. To undo his powers, to breakdown his body. And with Adam sucking up more and more XAP, it was working.

It was the fifth ball that really got Brock. It hit his left knee and knocked him onto the ground. Adam sent another flying at his head, knocking the bigger man down. Adam trotted over to the XAP bleeding Brock.

“You think,” Brock wheezed, “that you’re better? You’re the new me. It’s not that you didn’t want it, it’s that you wanted it all for yourself. Look at you… you’ve become the exact thing you were trying to stop, a strong athletic jock. There’s nothing different between us, except our team.”
“No,” Adam said.
“Then what,” said the injured quarterback. “What’s left of you?”
Adam held his hand in front of him, and a shiny, crystal football appeared. He held in front of his face, watching his blue eyes pass over the ball. He hesitated for just a moment.
“Me.” Adam plunged the hard football down onto Brock’s cup. It clanged against the heavy metal, it’s harsh reverberations echoing across the stadium. Again and again. Brock tried to get up, tried to fight, but he was slowly getting weaker and Adam was getting stronger. Finally, with a deep grunt and a bit of rage, the cup cracked. One more hit, and he had castrated Brock.

The moment it happened, Brock’s eyes lit up red as a beam of light shot from his mouth, through the stadium roof, lighting up the sky in red. An inhuman scream poured forth from the body. Brock began to shake and trembled. What remained of his muscles seemed to deflate, his skin began to sag into his bones. His brutish face became soft for a bit, returning to the average looks of Darren. His football uniforms dissolved into the air. For just a moment, there was a smile on his face and brightness in his eyes. Then the eyes melted and the body faded into dust. As the light disappeared and the scream ceased, the dust blew away, leaving the three of them still standing.

 

CHAPTER 12

It was just after school. The team had was moving on to field practice, the teenage boys suited up in practice pants and jerseys. In small groups, the coach’s guided the individual players through their roles on the field. It was a large team at a large school. A good team, filled with pumped up teens ready to take on the world and embrace their futures. And sitting in the bleachers, watching the practice, was a little blonde girl. A tall man with deep brown hair walked elegantly up the steps and sat down next to her.

“How was class, Kai?” Chloe smiled as he sat down.
“Fine, I am so ready to graduate.”
“Wanting a life of adventure?”
“Thank you, no,” he responded. “I’m ready for a calm life.”
“Minus the whole singing career.”

Kai looked at her for a moment and then sighed. He shook his head from side to side and just laughed quietly.
“I quit.”
“What? Seriously?”
“Yeah. I think it’s time that I dealt with my problems like a human being and stopped walking the path to Britney.”
“Gonna be a real person?”
“Someday.” They watched a group of boys practice catching passing. He knew the numbers and sighed as he saw Coach Nicholas Cast clapping on some of the boys.
“Why did it turn out this way? I mean... this is reality now?”
“Oh, them?” Chloe shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not so easy you know. I couldn’t just turn things back the way they were. That would have damaged reality more.”
“So...Cast, and Bryan, and Jarod.... they’re all...”
“Football players. I mean, I restored the tenants of their old personalities and lives, the women, but ... on a very basic level, they did like it. They enjoyed it. And for some of them it’s a much better future this way anyhow.”
“So, my high school is still jock central?”
“Has to be, they were exposed the longest. More recent ones I could change back. It won’t be Briggs’ world though. They have their own likes and dislikes. But, there’s not a reset button to life. Briggs and Brock really destroyed the very physical basis of our reality. Time and space, the whole 3D thing we’ve got going for us. I spend more time trying to repair the tears and the alternate realities they created.”
“Alternate realities?”
“Yeah, hundreds have spawned. Poor Adam.”
“Adam? Is that where he is? I thought he was still sleeping.”
“He does that a lot, too. But he understands. All the XAP in the world is basically in his system.”
“My hair is all one color now, so I guess I’ve used up all the TAN1 in my system.”
“Good to know. Anyway, XAP, it’s a part of him, now. And only him.”
“I thought he talked about Darren’s soul and such.”
“He did. But Adam is supposed to have two souls. Once he accepted it, embraced it, then he was whole. That’s how he fought Brock. He finally embraced himself and used XAP. And now he has a killer body to boot.”
“Is he… gonna be like Brock?”
“No, he’s Adam. He was the soul and Brock was the body slash demon. And now, Adam gets the super fun job of going into these worlds and destroying them before they end all reality.”
“Damn, drastic situation. Bet he loves that.”
“He’s dealing.”

Practice was changing, now to scrimmage and running play patterns.

“The world has changed,” Kai said.
“Can’t be helped. Maybe it was always supposed to be this way. There is a lot of things here that I don’t understand,” Chloe shrugged.
“You made this thing.”
“I did. It is my failure, and so I now spend my life trying to fix it. At least I have some powerful tools at my disposal.”
“Using all the resources from ChemCorp?”
“Sorta.”
“What?”
“I kinda sorta...now....own ChemCorp.”
“What?!”
“One little bend to fix a whole lot of them.”
“Cheater.”
“Whatever. What are you going to do now?”
“College, I guess.”
“Huh, that’s a switch. Adam’s quit school and your finally going to actually attend.”
“And you own ChemCorp.”
“And I own ChemCorp. And your high school is a football powerhouse, and some former skaters are now star athletes.”
“Bryan got a scholarship from USC.”
“Good for him. I still wanna call him Brute,” Chloe laughed.
“Me too. Do they remember?”
“I think they do. Like a dream. Life is kind of a dream.”
“And now Adam...”
“He and I are now a team of space/time agents who must save existence by destroying the bad versions of reality.”
“Do you have to?”
“Yeah, otherwise the whole time space continuum might collapse. Adam calls it his marriage. Or betrothal or something.”
“He is a strange one.”
“You are one to talk.”

Practice was ending and they were now heading in to shower and go home for the night. The coach’s were heading in too, preparing more strategy and such. There was homework to do and tests to grade. And still Kai and Chloe sat in the stands.

And in an apartment nearby, Adam was curled on a bed, holding onto a plush pillow and smiling. Sleeping.

END

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