The Jocking: 3rd Quarter, 7:00 -- Back in the Huddle

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Adam cocked his head toward the tiny girl crouched in the corner.

“So, what you in for?”
“Excuse me?”
“Obviously, the boys don’t like you either.”
“For fuck’s sake, woman. What did you do to piss off the world dominators?”
“Oh, I created what they’re using to take over the world.”
“Really? Smart girl.”
“Yeah, have you heard of it?”
“No, but I assumed it was something.”
“I call it SAVIOR. Apparently it’s been called XAP with the coach and kids.”
“Hmm, why SAVIOR?”
“Oh? Oh. It was created to save the world.”
“Yeah, some weird ass prophecy. Don’t ask. I just engineered.”
“What prophecy?”
“I don’t really know. Apparently something about light and dark. And shit. These two goons came in saying their daughter was going to give birth to the son of evil. Who would dominate the world and end all....whatever.”
“Wow, that’s....not original.”
“No, but we went ahead and did it. Well, I mean, they did. That’s why I got hired. Especially for this project.”
“I guess they gave you the down low?”
“No. I hacked into the security system and read it.”
“Wow. You a bitch.”
“Thanks, you’re a lot more fabulous than the last guy.”
“Kai? Yeah, he’s special.”
“He’s a cutie. If a bit psychotic.”
“Aren’t they all. Actually, I guess I’m a bit psychotic too.”
“Umm, I’m president of the crazy club. You can be secretary.”

Chloe tilted her head to the side and stared at Adam, a small lock of hair brushing gently in front of her eyes. Adam cocked an eyebrow and stared back at her.

“So,” Chloe began. “What happens now?”
“Now?” Adam turned his head to the side to stare at the space. “I dunno. He’s got Kai, again. Damn. And we’re here. James is somewhere.”
“And the rest of the world is helpless.”
“Yeah, so I we play the part? Or should we run away?”
“I don’t run. I hasten.”
“Hasten?” Adam let out a small chuckle. “Well, maybe we hasten.”
“Nah, we fight. We’re fighters. I can tell.”
“We are,” Adam said, nodding in agreement. “I suppose we need Kai too.”
“There’s usually something about threes.”
“So, should we go find him?”
“Indeed.” Chloe shook her hair violently, and a small pin fell to the ground. “And here’s our little key.” A few small clinks and a turn later, the two stepped out of the cell and into the fight.


“I don’t know how you do it,” Briggs stared at the yet again strapped down Kai Cole. The star rolled his eyes into his head, and heaved a sigh.
“Nice to see you too.”
“No, actually. I’m kind of sick of this. I mean, how many times are you really going to escape?”
“I dunno. Probably a few more.”
“This is not funny!”
“Really, cause I think it is.”
“What?” And then Kai started laughing. First it was just a small chortle, soon followed by loud, obnoxious laughter. Tears began to roll down his eyes and his body rocked back and forth.
“I mean...really,” he burst out between fits. “How many times....can I break free? It’s funny! It’s ridiculous! It’s hilarious!”

A sharp smack against Kai’s forehead caused the laughing to cease. Briggs looked down at the small boy imposingly.

“What...the fuck! You little piece of ungrateful shit! Here I am, trying to give you everything you can’t give yourself. And you disrespect me so!” He swung again at Kai, who ducked his head this time, causing Briggs to slam his palm against the stone wall.

“See, that wasn’t so smart. But then again, neither are you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Maybe I’m not happy. Maybe I’m not healthy. And lord knows, I’m not perfect. But I should try to make it on my own. People should try to do it on their own.”
“You don’t need help?”
“Oh no, I can’t do this unless other people do it with me. I’m not that strong. I’m not that strong right now.” Kai looked down at the floor, contemplating his next words. A heavy silence hung in the air, as the mountainous Briggs stared at the timid boy.

“I’m not there yet. And I won’t be there tomorrow. But I can start today.”
“So, you don’t want to be happy?”
“It’s time I learned to feel.”
“Fine, then you can just die.”


Allen Thanigan had been gone on a business trip to Washington for two weeks. It had been two weeks of trying to sell something to people who didn’t really want it. Obviously, the past two weeks had been very stressful for the business man. The female chairs of the company reminded him all too much of his ex-wife, another downside to the whole trip. Just having turned forty-eight, the stress of his life showed on his body. Average height, he possessed with stereotypical, middle-age business man look. A little fat, very grey, and with deep wrinkles displaying his lack of sleep and weariness. But it was the life Allen wanted, and that’s what mattered.

When he arrived home to his quiet little house in California, Allen expected to walk in to the house just as he left it. His son, Corey, usually kept things nice and tidy, knowing how much his father hated chaos in his home life. Corey was a good kid, kept out of the way. He hoped one day his son might follow in his footsteps of the corporate life.

His first step through the door, Allen knew something was different. The house... smelled. Musky and sweaty. Masculine. A look inside, and everything seemed to be normal. Living room as it was left, and in the kitchen all appeared normal, minus a blender left sitting on the counter. Opening the fridge, Allen discovered a great change. Gone were fatty foods and snacks, replaced with high protein, low fat foods pushed into every crevice, with two six packs of beer at the bottom. On top of the fridge, sat five barrels of protein powders and weight gain formulas. He had no idea what was going on. Maybe it was Corey, maybe he was tired of being the fat kid and was going on a diet. Deciding to follow up on that idea, he marched upstairs to his sons room.

He vigorously swung open the door and stared into the room. What had once been a childish and nerdy room, covered with science posters and computer equipment, was now empty save for a mattress lying on the floor covered in clothes. Not just any clothes, huge clothes. And all the jock styles. Staring in disbelief for a moment, Allen turned around as he heard someone open the bathroom door.

The beast standing in the hallway was well over six feet tall. His huge body covered in powerful muscles. He carried the towel over his crotch, covering nothing more than the most private parts of the body. And he smelled... like man.

“Who the fuck are you?” Allen asked the brute.
“Dude, what the fuck’s wrong, pops?”
“Who are you?”
“Dude, man. Chill out. It’s yo kid, TT.”
“TT? My son? My son’s name is Corey.”
“Shit man, yo head get knocked around or somethin’?”

Allen just stared at the hulk for a few more moments, his mouth gaping open. He was in awe of the massive man and his incredible musculature. And this was suppose to be his fat, nerdy son? Corey? TT? It all seemed so unreal.

“Pops, you feeling okay?”
“Umm, yeah... Corey.”
“TT, dude. You must be sick or somethin’. You work too fucking hard, bro’.”
“How have you been?”
“Fucking awesome man! Football’s badass this year, we’re kicking ass!”
“You’ve been to football games?”
“Well, I can’t fucking be starting halfback if I don’t show.”
“You, play?”
“Duh, dude.”
“I think I am sick.”
“Yeah, you just go to bed dude. Here, I’ll get you some food and you rest it up.”

Allen went downstairs to the master bedroom and began to pull off his suit. The whole scene was so strange. Maybe he was actually a terrible father. Or maybe this was a joke. Maybe Corey was taking revenge for being left alone and was making his dad go insane. He put on a pair of boxers and crawled into bed. TT sauntered in shortly after, with a big cup.

“Here, this’ll help.” Allen took a big sip of the brown liquid. It tasted thick and meaty and salty. Savory. Part of Allen immediately relaxed after drinking it.
“Don’t know if you feel up to it, but Coach wanted to meet with you tomorrow.”
“What for?”
“He’s talking to all the guys dads. Think he wants to get something together.”
“Umm, sure. What time?”
“Umm, like, bright and early if that’s cool.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I doubt I’ll get much sleep tonight.”
“Night dude.”

Allen watched the bulky man exit the room. He was wearing nothing but a tight pair of track shorts and a jock strap. The twin lines over his ass were perfectly obvious. Could this hot, cocky jock actually be his son? Maybe it was a good idea to see the coach. He sat up for a few more hours thinking about the whole thing. Finally, very early in the morning, Allen passed out from exhaustion.

That night, he had a very strange dream. He saw Corey- no TT- standing in a locker room. His overly tanned muscles gliding over each other as he changed out of full length, gold tights, and put on a small pair of gold shorts with blue trim and a matching sleeveless shirt. Allen realized he was standing beside TT, wearing the same uniform. But rather than highlighting his bodybuilder physique, Allen looked rather pathetic in the tight clothes. TT walked him outside and sat him down at a bench press. He loaded up it up to 250 pounds and told Allen to get under. He sat below and reached up to touch the metal bar. It felt so cold. TT helped him lift up the bar and it immediately dropped on Allen.

“Come on bitch! Breathe out and thrust up!” Allen pressed as hard as he could against the bar, with TT slowly raising it up. Once at the top, he let Allen dropped the bar down, catching it just before it crushed Allen. “Harder you pussy!” And Allen pushed again. The ceiling was a mirror, and Allen could see his bright red face and flabby arms desperately trying to raise the bar to no avail. And again TT let go. Allen caught the bar this time, and held it just above his body. He couldn’t push it up, but it wasn’t going to kill him. The bar was lifted up again and again and again. Each time, Allen managed to hold it just a little higher. After twelve reps, he began to be strong enough to guide the bar down. Four more, and he could almost push it up without help. At twenty, TT was just a bored spotter. He hefted the bar up and down, releasing deep animalistic grunts.

After twenty two reps at 250 pounds, Allen got up from under the bar and the sweat soaked man followed TT back into the locker room. Once inside, he turned and looked in the mirror. The image reflected was of two very similar looking men. Both had huge necks that threatened to swallow their heads. Hard, square jaws lined a face with a rough nose and a simian brow. Two shaved heads to round the whole look off. But that was only the beginning. It was the body that had truly changed. Whereas the whole ensemble once looked ridiculous, the spandex was now stretching to cover the extensive muscles covering the man. But whereas TT’s legs were insanely huge, it was his arms. They were just so fucking huge. The biceps were bigger than bowling balls. The deltoids made it seem as though he were already wearing shoulder pads. The forearms that looked like an average man’s calves. He was just so huge. The muscle man let out a satisfied grunt, threw off the spandex, and the two boys marched into the showers.

“Wake up, bro’.” Allen awoke to a bovine voice and a playful push. Opening his eyes, he saw the blue and gold spandex covered TT.
“What time is it?”
“Five. Practice fucking starts at six dude.” Allen groaned and rolled out of bed. Slowly, he trudged over to the bathroom. He flicked on the lights and glanced in the mirror. Something looked different. Maybe a few less wrinkles, a bit darker hair. His posture seemed a bit better; he stood a little taller. Shaking his head, he stood in the closet and put on a brown suit.

“Fucking dress up, man.” TT commented.
“Well, I have to go to work after.”
“Fucking sucks.”
“Yeah, it does kinda.” Did he really just say that? Work sucks? Well, it did, sort of. But it was what he wanted. He like working. At least, he usually did. Maybe he was just exhausted from the traveling. The pair headed to the garage and Allen planned on driving his Camry. TT however, just stood outside.
“Fuck dude. I ain’t gonna fit in that car. We can take my truck.”
“You have a truck?”
“Umm, shit man. You got it for me on my birthday.”

There is was, parked next to his, a monstrous truck with all the accessories. Painted black and gold. The license plate had 22HBTT on the back.

“I bought you this truck?”
“Umm, like, fuck yeah, buddy. For my 16th birthday man.”
“Oh, okay.” It was still very overwhelming for poor Allen. “Wait, how am I going to get to work?”
“You can fucking drive it, and pick my ass up after practice.”
“Okay, right. Cool.” And that’s how Allen found himself driving a super-sized pickup truck to his son’s high school at five in the morning.

He pulled into the lot, already beginning to fill with cars. Not cars really, lots of big trucks and SUVs. Scattered about, a few beautiful sports cars stood out among the mess. But it was all the biggest and best that money could buy. It was California after all.

“This way, dude,” TT roared to his father, motioning the older man to follow him into the stadium. It was a big stadium for a high school, again with money. TT led Allen through a series of fluorescent light filled passages, seeming to wind in a circle. Finally, with a final turn, they arrived at a door that said Coach Dobson. TT knocked on the door and a gruff man’s voice responded, “Enter.”

Allen followed TT into the office, which was the most Spartan place he could have imagined. There was a desk in the center, and an overhead light. The walls were lined with filing cabinets. The only decoration were the huge posters of the football team each season, each designed to intimidate their opponents with their brute strength and masculinity.

“Yo, TT!” Said a bleach blonde muscle boy as the duo walked through the door. “Is this, like, yo pops, bro?”
“Fuck yeah, Coach Dan! This is my dad Allen. Pops, this is Coach Dan.”
“Nice to meet you,” Allen took the hand that Dan offered and found his palm nearly crushed under the massive weight of the man. He smiled at Allen like he was the biggest and possibly dumbest person alive.
“And this,” TT interrupted and pointed to the man sitting down, “is head Coach Dobson.”
“Like, nice to meet you, sir.” The man behind the desk stood up and offered his hand. Allen took it with some reservation, but was relieved when this monstrous man’s grip wasn’t nearly as imposing as the previous.

“See ya later, man.” TT waved at this dad as he walked out the door.
“Nice to meet you,” Dan said and also waved. “I like, have to get the guys started practicing, yo.”
“I’ll meet up soon,” Dobson said. And a few moments later, Allen was left in the office with the imposing head coach, Dobson. “Well, then... Mr. Thanigan, is it? You’ve been out of town for quite a while, and I really wanted to talk to all the fathers about the program this year.”
“Yeah, well... I hope you’re up to the challenge. The team’s pretty much been a failure the past years.”
“That’s true, but we’ve made some new gains this year, and I really think the boys are gonna be able to pull through. What we really want, is to make sure that the boys parents are behind us.”
“To be honest, Mr. Dobson-“
“You can call me Coach Dobson, everyone here does.”
“Okay, well then, to be honest...Coach... I doubt I’ll be here enough to really make an impact.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Well, I travel a lot on business. I’m away for weeks at a time, and Cor- I mean TT, has to fend for himself a lot.”
“That’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. I believe it’s very important for a boy to have his father active in his life. I mean, he needs a strong male role model.”
“Well, it’s the job. And he doesn’t go to school here or even live here without it.”
“Yes, but I really want you to be there for your son. I mean, did you even know he was on the team?”
“...Honestly, no. I didn’t think he liked sports.”
“See, that’s what I’m talking about... it’s obvious that you don’t spend enough time with him.”
“I think I know enough about parenting. Why don’t you stick to coaching?”
“In my mind, it’s the same thing. I parent these boys. I teach them, they respect me. It’s very much a father-son relationship. And I feel like I am TT’s father.”
“Whatever, you have no to talk to me this way. Stay the hell out of my life, okay?”
“Calm down, Allen, or I’ll call security.”
“And do what? Throw me out when I want to leave? I think this conversation is over.”
“No, it’s not. Sit down.” And with this harsh words, Allen found his butt firmly planted to his seat. “I don’t think it’s your fault. You were probably just raised wrong.”
“What the-“
“No more talking.” And Allen’s mouth shut tight. “You obviously need a strong male role model too. Follow me” And Allen stood up and followed Dobson out the door, and through the hallways. They walked into the locker room, and stood near the marker board at the front.
“See these words?” Above the marker board were the words: DISCIPLINE. MUSCLE. FOOTBALL. “This is what we stand for. Take your clothes off.”

Allen immediately stripped out of his suit. He was left standing nude in the locker room. His sagging, wrinkling skin exposed to the same air as the raging-testosterone teens. Dobson walked around the man and stared thoughtfully.
“Alright now, stand up straight. Shoulders back, suck in the gut! Tighter! Chin up. Good. That’s how you’re gonna stand from now on. Now...Allen....I want to tell you what’s really important. You must have DISCIPLINE to succeed. And what are we trying to succeed at? FOOTBALL. What makes you successful at FOOTBALL? MUSCLE. To get MUSCLE, you must have DISCIPLINE. From now on, it’s all about MUSCLE. How does that make you feel?”
Allen just stood in silence, his back aching from the upright posture that he was unaccustomed to. His abs hurt from the strain of sucking in his gut. And he was cold. He couldn’t answer because Dobson wouldn’t let him.
“That’s right, don’t talk. You don’t need to. I’ll let you talk once you have something worthwhile to say. Open locker number 11. See, that’s football gear. The same gear your son, TT, is wearing. Now, put on the jockstrap. Good. Now the shorts and shirt. Makes you look like the fat old man you are. Well, were I guess. That shit TT gave you, must have given you one hell of a dose. Look, your gut’s getting smaller and smaller. And you are much taller, almost on eye level with me now. Bet it feels good, doesn’t it? Fuck man, you’re hair is getting nice and dark, don’t worry we’ll shave it down like TT”s, I know you’ll wanna look as much like him as possible. Your cock really fills out the jockstrap now, nice and juicy. So, how’s it going?”
“Uh, fuck dude,” Allen managed to spit out.
“Hell yeah! You’re coming right along now, dude. Soon, you’ll be a mother-fucking muscle jock. Look at this legs, you’ve got great thighs, such deep cuts. God, I fucking love muscle jocks. We’re gonna have such a fucking awesome football team this year. And your abs, can you see them in the mirror? Look at those ridges, that eight pack. Models would kill to have these genes my man. I mean, my genes, now your genes. See that’s it. You guys need a strong male role model, and I can’t think of a better man. Ain’t that right son?”
“Oh, fuck dude, this shit hurts,” Allen said, grabbing his head.
“That’s cause your too fucking weak, but you’re getting strong. Delts really fill out the top of the shirt. Love how your pecs are coming in, really gives you a great curve. But man, look at those fucking biceps! Definitely the biggest I’ve ever seen, damn MJ! You look a fine fucker!
“Fuck yeah man! This is like, totally bad ass!”
“I knew you’d like it MJ!”
“What Dobson?”
“Muscle jock! Or MJ for short. I thought you’d like the name. You and TT my big boys now, my football studs. Goddam, this is one football family.”
“Oh, fuck yeah! This is so awesome, pops. Sweet.”
“And god, your arms are still growing. Look at me. God, I love that vacant stare. You’re almost there now, just a little further. Just let your neck swallow your head. It looks so much more natural that way. Guys heads are suppose to be tiny compared to their bodies. Guys with small muscles don’t have DISCIPLINE. But we take care of that, don’t we?”
“Fuck yeah! All them bitches gonna play fucking football dude. Fuck! This feels so fucking incredible.”
“Did you hear that? Your voice just dropped like a bowling ball. Now that’s how a man is suppose to sound. Deep, gruff, and brainless. Cause who really needs a brain anyhow? You got muscles. That’s all you need to play football. That and discipline. And you got that now, right MJ?”
“Fuck yeah, coach! I got mother fucking muscles, and I’m fucking disciplined. You gots to be to play football!”
“Alright MJ, just a few more changes, yeah low brow, nice touch. Love your jaw, almost wider than the rest of your face. Let’s just trim up the hair, there we go. Now, you look like a big fucking jock!”
“Sir, yessir! Fuck yeah!”
“You better get to practice MJ, you make me proud as the quarterback!” MJ threw on the tight football pants and shoulder pads. His father had to help him pull the jersey on, his arms were just too big to reach around. All suited up, minus the helmet, MJ walked past a mirror on the wall. He looked just like his brother, well almost. Legs were a little smaller, arms were a little bigger. But they were both football jocks. And that was all that really mattered. He threw the helmet on his head, it looked so tiny compared to the rest of his body- just right! He marched out onto the field and practiced his heart out.

After wards, he came back in and stripped off the sweaty tights and hopped in the showers with the rest of the guys. Off to class, well, jock class at least. And more practice. And that night, TT and MJ walked to their cars, matching black and gold trucks. His with the 11QBMJ on the back. They drove to their dads house, ate a late dinner and went to bed. Good jocks got rest, and MJ had plenty of discipline.

6:00 remaining in the quarter . . .