The Jocking: 3rd Quarter, 8:00 -- Here's the Punt

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Pace, step - step, step - step, turning...

“I don’t know where we’re going.”

Pace, step - step, step - step, turning...

“Is it the second hallway?”

Pace, step - step, step - step, turning...

“I should’ve found a map.”

“Stop complaining!”

Running, running, stop and pause

“Adam! Adam! Where the hell!”

Running, running, stop and pause

“Shut up! Shut up! You’ll sound the alarm!”

Running, running, stop and pause

“Crap! .... where are we?”
“How should I know?”

Chloe and Adam stood in the pale white hallway, each eyeing the florescent lights that flickered overhead. They laughed at the confused children, spinning in an endless maze of paths and puzzles.

Faster, faster, faster onward.

“This way. This way. I’m pretty sure.”
“We need to find him and get out. Before the guards come about.”
“I think I got it, stupid wench.”
“Shut the fuck up, pretentious bitch.”
“Here! Here, around this corner!”
“Run faster, I think they’re coming!”
“Adam! Adam, are you here!”
“Stop screaming, someone will”

The two appeared, not as two individuals, but as a mass of two people, landing with a thud before a cell with old-fashioned iron bars. Adam stared at mound of person on the floor outside, noting with humor their struggle to untangle limbs and avoid precarious body parts.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked.
“Doing? Doing? We’re running.”
“Quickly! Run! I’ll get you out!”
“Hurry, faster, faster still!”

Adam just stared at the two ADD children bouncing up and down outside his cage.

“What are you two talking about?”

“We’re here to rescue you!”
“Hurry, move it, faster dear!”

“No.” That brought both of them to a sudden halt.
“No?” They asked in unison.
“No. I’m not running away. I’m going to stay. Besides, I need to find James.”
“But....we’re here to rescue you.”
“Yeah, you kids have fun with that! Don’t worry I can take care of myself.”

Chloe and Kai looked at each other in confusion. They shrugged their shoulders and ran past Adam’s cell without another word. Adam stared at them as they left, and let out a small sigh.


“Ow! Stop it! Fucking! Look out! Get them! Stop! Shoot them! Hurry! Aaugh! Shit! Bastards! Cuff him! I’ll handle it! No! Ugh!”

Adam turned his head back and saw two oversized men hoisting a tiny blonde girl between them. She struggled violently, jerking her body in hopes of freeing her petite form. But soon she found herself sitting in the cell with Adam.


Corey Thanigan was a thoughtful young boy. He sat in the far corner of every classroom, his short, squat figure huddling safe in the far reaches of space. His mousy voice was heard sparingly, only to make the most insightful and unique observations. And while he excelled in nearly every subject in school, Psychology was the home of his greatest thoughts. Perhaps it came from years of social isolation, but he made keen insight into human behavior. His isolation was actually a thing from middle school. Kind and gentle, he had attracted a following of interesting and clever people who found him to be fun and enjoyable.

He had loved the Psychology class when he started. The teacher was so involved and interesting. At least, he thought he was. Now, he seemed like some overly tan beach bunny. And all he ever related anything to was football. It was weird actually, he could have sworn that Coach Dan was older than that. Or that he use to asked to be called Mr. Kline. Or that the course was interesting. Still... it was. Dan had an intensity to him that showed a real passion in the subject matter. Corey realized he really shouldn’t pass judgement just because someone was blonde and beautiful.

Blonde and beautiful were not words one would use to describe Corey. Standing at 5'3 (with shoes on) and a hefty 190 pounds that hung off his bones much like a thick tire around the midsection and large bundles of wiggly mass around the rest of the body. As if to add insult to injury, Corey also suffered from a condition called Gynecomastia, commonly called man boobs. His pale skin was dotted with acne like any teenager. The unruly mop of brown hair on top of his head always appeared dry and ill-treated. Basically, he looked bad. The kind of bad one hopes people grow out of.

But he was the brainy smart guy who would probably grow up to do something great and impressive with his life. Just so long as he survived high school. But fate has a funny way of really putting some people to the test. Or, the people who play with fate.

It was just the average Monday when Corey had picked his lunch up from the cafeteria, a collection of foods that may have comforted his mind- but expanded his waist line. Slowly he waddled across the floor, his walking a collection of tiny, laborious steps, slowly moving each leg in front of the other. His goal was always not to fall, given as how he was a total klutz. But of course, some ignorant fool would back up his chair suddenly into the clumsy boy, sending his massive bulk crashing into the ground. His tray flew ahead of him, dumping its contents on the floor as it slammed into the ground. That thud was nothing compared to the slamming of Corey’s body into the tiled floor.

Of course that humiliation was nothing. As his body bent over and fell, a loud ripping sound echoed throughout the cafeteria.

And so, the fat boy lay on the floor, his hands reaching back to discover a great tear had occurred along the ass crack of his pants, exposing his plaid boxers. A loud snickering could be heard through the lunchroom, as people politely tried to avoid laughing, after all they weren’t complete savages.

And so he laid, in total humiliation. It was like a movie. A twisted, high school movie. While for Corey it seemed like an eternity, the guy who knocked him over immediately turned around and bent over to help him up.

“You alright, little dude?” Corey felt a strong hand on his shoulder and turned around. “That was quite a fall buddy.”

Corey stared with shock at the massive muscleman who stood before him. Bulging biceps and huge pectorals suspended over him, while a concerned- if overly masculine- face stared down at him. It was, of course, star linebacker and all around nice (if ulteriorly motivated) guy, Brute.

Taking a moment to compose himself, Corey fought back small tears as he nodded. “Yeah,” he sniffled. “I’m fine.”

“That’s good, dude. Here let me help you up...” but as Brute began to lift him up, Corey fought back.

“No,” he hissed.
“What’s wrong?”
“When I fell, I...I tore my pants.” Brute looked down with slightly embarrassed look on his face.

“Well, I guess we’ll take care of that.” Standing back up, he picked up his duffel bag and pulled out a large shirt. “Here put this on, and I’ll find something for you to wear.” Slightly confused, but more than grateful, Corey pulled on the large shirt. It was huge, but not huge enough to hide the girth of his body. Picking up his bag, Brute led Corey out of the cafeteria and down a hallway.

“Isn’t this the way to the locker rooms?” Corey asked.
“Sure is.”
“But, why are we going there?”
“To see if I got any extra duds you could fit into.”
“Oh.” Corey followed the behemoth, watching his huge muscles roll over each other as he walked. He especially noted how he walked with a rather wide stance, letting just enough space between his enormous quads for them to avoid touching. The jocks tight shirt showed off well developed back muscles, huge laterals and large indentation around the spinal column near the shoulder blades. But still, it was those massive thighs that kept getting his attention.

Once they got to the lockers, Brute walked right up one and opened it up.

“What about these?” He said, presenting a pair of track pants, black with a gold stripe running down each leg.
“Will they fit?” Corey asked.
“Well, better this than that hole,” Brute remarked.

Nodding quickly, Corey stripped off his destroyed pants. He felt a tiny sense of shame as his pudgy thighs and fat calves were exposed to the gym rat. Brute didn’t seem to notice or care, he simply stood observing. Holding up the track pants with care, Corey pulled one leg gently through and then the other. The pants seemed to fit fine, which he found surprising. They were a little long, but nothing he couldn’t walk in.

“Well, fuck then. I think you better head back to class,” Brute said as he smacked the shorter man in his back, then turned and led the way out. Corey followed behind, his thighs rubbing the mesh material of the pants together, causing them to squeak a little each time his leg brushed past the other. They were about halfway back before Brute turned around and addressed Corey.

“Listen, little man, if you’re gonna wear then and not create the most annoying sound ever heard, try take bigger steps, or move your legs around each other.”
“Umm, let me show you.” And Brute demonstrated. Corey noticed how his quads were too big for his legs to actually pass by each other, so he altered his walk. He kinda moved each leg around to the side before bringing it in front. The steps he took were larger than the way Corey normally walked.

“Now you try.” Corey took off down the dark hall, moving like a dancing harlequin. At first it was awkward and difficult, rotating his legs around each other to avoid contact. The size of the step intimidated the normally shy and unconfident man. But after a few minutes and some trips, plus some help from Brute, Corey slowly managed to walk without creating the annoying sound. Brute was really happy with him, and Corey had to admit that he was damn proud of himself. It was weird, walking like that caused him to carry himself up a little higher. He felt less like a total klutz and more like a boy who was finally exiting the awkward years.

His next few classes were followed by some questions from his friends about his curious attire. The pants were obviously from the schools athletic department. Corey just shrugged his shoulders and the others just let it be.

Later that day, Corey walked into this bedroom and shut the door. His father was still at work, as always, and Corey knew he would be alone for the next few hours. His father was a corporate shark whose wife had left the two of them years ago. There were some days when Corey wasn’t even sure his father remembered that he existed.

Standing before a full length mirror in the bathroom, Corey stared at his image and then slowly pulled off the pants. It was weird, but there was some part of himself that was really attached to the pants. They were the reason he had learned to carry himself with at least a shred of dignity. Not to mention that they were such a strange gift from a strange man. Brute was, after all, a god among men. And Corey was an ant among gods. Brute had the huge shoulders, the square jaw line, the bulging biceps, and again those massive quads came back into his mind. He couldn’t even imagine how much weight they could lift. Or what it must feel like to walk with their incredible weight. Finally drawing his mind back to reality, Corey turned away from the mirror and started in his homework. It was hours later when he threw off his clothes and headed for bed. He put on a pair of pajama pants and drifted off into a disgruntled sleep.

Corey’s alarm rang at 7:45 a.m. He turned over in his bed and smacked his hand around the desk trying desperately to snooze the alarm. Unfortunately, he knocked it onto the ground, the loud noise still blaring. Resigning to his fate, he fell out of bed before realizing he had chosen the wrong side, and the alarm was still blaring from the other side. Standing up, he marched over to the other side and bent over to pick up the alarm. As his hand reached the button, a loud ripping sounds resonated from behind Corey, and a small stain appeared on the front of his pants. The cold morning air drifted lazily over his exposed ass and Corey let out a frustrated yelp. He walked to the bathroom and stared at his torn pants in the mirror.

“These were new too,” Corey moaned to himself. The hole was wide, and clearly showed his white cheeks to the world. Sighing, he stripped off the pants and stepped into the shower. The hot water steamed up the room and the frustration he felt melted away just a bit. He rubbed soap over his body and absorbed himself in his cleaning. It seemed like it took less time than usual. He covered himself in the lather, and rinsed off.

Stepping out of the shower, Corey toweled off and began to brush his teeth. The fog was slowly fading from the room and the mirror began to show his reflection. Strange, he could have sworn his breasts were bigger than that. In fact, they looked like they drooped a little less. Part of his chin seemed to have emerged from his turkey neck and his belly didn’t seem to fall quite so far over the pelvis as usual. And, his head stood a little higher than it used to. He wouldn’t have noticed, but there was shelf behind him that he could stand under, and now it looked like he would have hit his head. Corey had never really gotten much of a growth spurt, and maybe now was his day. He rationalized that he must just be tired, he couldn’t lose weight or gain noticeable height over night.

Back in his room, he put on a pair of jeans, new ones that weren’t going to tear, but just to be safe he put the track pants in his backpack. In a few more minutes, it was off to school for Corey.

People in his first class noted something was different about Corey and a few people asked if he had lost weight. Giving in, Corey mentioned that he might have and everyone was impressed with how good he looked. The Psychology course that he adored was second period. Dan looked calm and dumb as a brick, per usual. His wide eyes and bright white smiled greeted Corey as he walked in.

“Morning, dude buddy. Like, you look trim, man.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“It’s sweet dude.”

Corey set his bag down on his chair, in the back. He had never noticed really, but Brute sat right next to him, with the flytrap Rick sitting behind him. Rick breathed so loud out of his mouth it used to annoy Corey, but now he just ignored it. Brute smiled and him and mentioned that he looked good. Corey turned to face him while stooping over to a grab a notebook out of his bag. Before he even got a hello out, there was a painfully loud tearing sound, and a dollop of grey goo inside Corey’s pants.

“Oh shit, fucker. You tore your clothes again.” Corey knelt in slight embarrassment for a moment before opening his bag and pulling out the track pants.
“Yeah, I brought these,” he said to Brute as he hefted them out of the bag.
“Good thinking dude.”

Corey excused himself for a moment and went to the restroom to change. Class hadn’t started yet so he didn’t hurry. Rather than walk back with the destroyed pants, he opted to toss them in the garbage, which sat directly in front of a mirror. It was strange again. The extra slabs of skin that had collected over his neck seemed to have faded, it was still fatty but not nearly so grotesque. His boobs, well, they could hardly be called that. Little mounds of fat sat behind his nipples. Flab still swayed from his arm when he waved them, but it was a little less still. His protruding belly sat higher on his chest, making it look more like a large beer belly than a tub of fat that would have one day covered his genitals. His legs, there was definitely something different about his legs. They were still large, but they didn’t seem to jiggle nearly as much as the rest of his body. It was almost like the quads were firm or something.

He adjusted his package once before leaving and noticed for a moment the wet spot beneath. He thought about it for a moment and decided to just ignore it. There wasn’t much else he could do after all. It was almost time for the bell and Corey found himself jogging back to class.

Dan smiled a big, dumb surfer smile and Corey found himself relieved that his teacher was so cool. There were worse things than a blonde himbo.

“Bimbos,” Corey found himself answering his own question under his breath.

Brute greeted Corey with a high five as the fat boy sat down and began to listen to the lecture. Part of him seemed to drift in and out as Dan spoke, but another part found the lecture more interesting than usual. After class, he headed to the rest of his day. Third period, more people commenting on how good he looked and how much weight he had lost. It was quite an ego boost.

Fourth period was biology, but rather than finding himself enraptured with the material, Corey found he was bored. He let out a quiet yawn in the back and let his eyes close just a bit. The class seemed to go on forever and he leapt out of his seat with vigor once the bell finally rang. It was lunchtime and he could not have been happier. Today, rather than stacking his plate full of sugars, Corey found himself adding chicken breasts and vegetables. It just seemed right. He ate with a bunch of his friends, all continuing to comment on his weight loss and now also his choice in food. He didn’t bother to say much really, he ate in quiet contentment.

He got up after lunch and went walking toward the restroom. The hall was long and obscure in relation to the rest of the school, it connected the main building to the sports wing. Winning sports and high school equaled big bucks. He had really managed to get this whole walking thing down. His head was higher, his chest puffed out just a bit. He was realizing that he needed to pull his shoulder blades back just a bit too. And then the thighs. Gently rotating each around as he walked. He knew that it was an awkward walk to look at, but it resounded with power. Being so caught up in self-appreciation, Corey failed to notice the duffel bag on the ground. And he would never know that it held a heavy football helmet within.

It was seconds later that the big body was sent tumbling into the tiled floor. A loud grunt was released as the lug hit the pavement. To add to his increasing embarrassment, the fall was accompanied by the all too familiar sound of tearing fabric. A rather large blot appeared at the crotch of the pants.

Heaving on the ground for a second, Brute walked out of a door behind the bag.

“Oh fuck dude. You okay, fucker?”
“Uh, yeah dude. It’s cool,” Corey said, in a gruff voice, as he lifted himself off the ground. His glutes flexed beneath his boxers as he pushed off with a thick forearm.
“You tore your clothes again.”
“No sweat bro, we’ll get you a larger size.”
“Thanks man.”

The two walked to the locker rooms which where further down the hall. A few large veins seem to dissect Corey’s forearms and his arms pushed at the sleeves of his shirt just a little. Adjusting the bugle beneath his pants absentmindedly, he felt the wet spot.

“Hey man?”
“S’up dude?”
“I, umm...”
“What?” Brute turned around and easily noticed the stain. “Looks like you’ve been having some good times.” He let out a deep guttural laugh as he spoke. Corey thought for a moment before letting out a similar, if higher pitched laugh, and nodding. “No sweat, I got something for you.”

At the locker, Brute pulled out a pair of track pants. He glanced over at Corey, who had taken off the pants and his boxers and stood, half-nude, and scratching his crotch without the slightest look of concern.

“Here you go, dude.”
“Thanks bro. Yo, you, umm, got anything for the jewels.”
“One sec.”

Brute walked away and came back a moment later with a jockstrap.

“This is what you want.” Corey eyed it for a moment and then slipped it on. His firm glutes stood up behind the back, while his large dick and balls ballooned out the front. He bent over and picked up the black and gold pants and pulled one leg through. Then the next, before finally pulling them up over his ass. They seemed so tight, his massive glutes pushing out the seams of the pants already. Not to mention he could faintly see the outline of his dick from within the pants. Walking over to a mirror, Corey got another chance to admire himself. His neck was large, but not fatty. Kind of a bull-neck. Real thick and veiny. His arms pushed out the shirt and his deltoids were breaking out from the confines of the clothing.

Suddenly, Corey’s chest was exposed as the torn shirt was ripped off his body. Brute held the twin halves in his hands while Corey admired his chest. The man boobs were pecs, obviously. Rather large, he was built big after all. And his abs, yeah his abs. They were, nice. You could almost kinda see their outline. Even within the pants, he could see his thick thighs, and with a gentle squeeze he flexed them and the outline of the pants changed. He could almost see the ridges of the different muscles perfectly. His quads were definitely his strongest muscle.

“Shoe’s untied,” Brute pointed. Corey bent down to tie it, and a massive split echoed through the empty lockers, and a large mass of grey goo sprayed out his cock. The pants fell off his body, exposing thickly muscled thighs and rock hard calves. Corey stayed bent over, a look of pure confusion upon his face. His body moved up and down as he slowly inhaled and exhaled through his mouth. Brute meanwhile was laughing his deep, dumb laugh.

Finally, lifting his body up, Corey saw himself again. His thick, muscled neck that was almost larger than his head. Gargantuan traps threatening to swallow his neck. His shoulders leading to massive biceps and tightly strung triceps. Gigantic forearms leading to stocky hands. His pecs ballooned out of his chest while swooping laterals consumed his backside. His abs, yeah he had abs. Great, big entrenched abs. His glutes were so beefy and brawny. Big fuckstick and huge balls. And those quads, my god, those jumbo beautiful quads. Each individual muscle so big and pulsing with energy. Thick veins dividing the regions. And then there were the calves.

He stared at the image of his body for awhile longer, before he began to laugh just like Brute. A big, deep guttural laugh, that made him sound like some dumb animal. It caused his body to jut up and down, bouncing the huge muscles as they went.

“Maybe we’ll get you a bigger size,” Brute said as he handed Corey a larger pair of pants. He also handed over a huge shirt that said FOOTBALL and the letters TT on the back. Plus a jacket that matched the pants in color and pattern. Corey pulled them all on, noting how well his body fit into the massive clothing. He got a pair of shoes in the same black and gold pattern as well.

“You okay, dude?” Brute asked.
“Umm, fuck man. Yeah, dude. I’m cool,” came the answer in a deep bass.
“That shirt fits you pretty well.”
“Yeah bro, thanks.”
“Okay, TT, we gotta get to class.” The other giant stared at Brute in blank confusion.
“That shirt fits you.”
“It says TT on the back. So, you’re TT.”
“Oh, okay,” TT said as his eyes gained a small light of understanding.
“Pretty soon those thighs of yours gonna be like thunder, dude.”
“Fuck yeah dude!” TT said as he high-fived Brute and the two walked back to class.

TT sat in the back of his fifth class, a math course he knew he had once cared about, but now he could hardly stay awake. He kept fidgeting in his seat, he just couldn’t pay attention.

“Corey, calm down,” the teacher said. TT knew she kept looking in his direction and assumed the dumb fuck in front of him was to blame. With the bell, he was the first out the door, a book bag that once belonged to a boy named Corey left slumped at the back.

He walked quickly through the halls back to the locker room. The jocks were already there, changing into practice gear.

“Yo! TT! What’s up, dude?” Brute said when he walked him.
“Yo, Brute dude. This shit fucking sucks man, like, I dunno what the fuck I was just doing.”
“I’d love to fucking help dude, but I gotta go to football practice.”
“Yeah, it’s football practice time.”
“That sounds fucking awesome dude.”
“Yeah, it fucking rocks. You better get to class bro.”
“Fuck man, I don’t even know where I fucking gotta go. This bitch last period kept looking at me and fucking calling me Corey. I dunno, I feel, like I’m so fucking confused.”
“I gotta get to practice man. Here TT, take this. For school tomorrow. I’ll check ya later,” Brute handed TT a duffel bag.

After the boys left, TT stood in the locker room. Inside the bag was a pair of jeans and a polo shirt. TT stood and scratched himself for another minute before finally leaving out the locker room door and driving home. He sat around his house for a few hours before finally a knock at the door arrived. TT opened to the door to see Brute standing in all his sweaty glory.

“Listen TT, I’ve been thinking. Were you serious about saying football sounded good?”
“Oh, fuck yeah! I fucking wanna try it, dude.”
“Okay then, TT. If you wanna play football, you gotta be a jock. That cool man.”
“Fuck yeah! What the fuck do I fucking have to fucking do?”
“Let’s go upstairs,” Brute directed. Once inside Corey’s bedroom, Brute turned towards TT and began to instruct him.

“First, undress.” Corey bent down to untie his shoes and the same tearing sound came from behind his ass as a huge wad of grey goo splattered into his jockstrap. This didn’t even phase TT as he took off his shoes and the shredded pants. Along with the jacket and shirt. And so he stood, a massive tower of moving muscle. Each breathe causing an anatomy lesson to unfold over his body. Individual muscles each worked to the point of pure perfection. Deep cuts around huge muscles. His skin had cleared up nicely too.

Brute pulled a pair of jeans out of Corey’s closet. They were way too small now for TT.

“Put these on.” Not hesitating a moment TT put on leg through the pants and then the other. They were halfway up his thighs when they were torn in half and a small grey blob spurted out of TT’s dick.

“Now these. And these. And these.” Brute had TT try on every piece of clothing that had been in Corey’s closet. Each item had been ripped to shreds and TT”s body had gotten a little bigger and his cock had squirted a little more grey goo inside his jock. His voice had gotten a bit deeper and his eyes looked like he was stoned out of his mind. Brute led TT to the bathroom and pulled a hair trimmer out of his own duffel bag.

“A real jock has to look tough,” he informed TT. Turning the blades on, he swiped the blade quickly over the mass of hair on his head. It was only a few seconds later that TT’s head was left with a tight buzzcut over his brown hair. The face looking back was far from Corey’s chubbiness. It was a chiseled man, with a hard, square jaw. Whose neck was larger than his own head. There was a look of total confusion on the face. It was so painfully masculine. TT loved it. He loved his pecs with the nipples pointing straight down. His loved his thighs, so fucking thick. His perky ass and bulging arms. TT loved himself.

“Well, see you in class tomorrow TT,” Brute said as he smacked his soon-to-be fellow jock on the shoulder and let himself out. TT meanwhile, stared in the mirror for hours, admiring his hyper masculinity.

He didn’t know when he had gone to bed, but the room that TT woke up in was a far cry from Corey’s room. It was Spartan, with only his plain bed remaining. Throwing the sheets off and moving his massive legs off the edge of the bed, TT lifted himself up and walked over to the duffel bag. He pulled out the jeans and polo that Brute had given him the day before. First pulling on his jockstrap again, he pulled the pants on, although they were a little tight around the thighs. The baby blue polo was skin tight against his massive pectorals and arms. The traps alone pressed the shirt to its extreme. Thinking for a second before walking out, he flipped up the collar, grabbed his duffel and walked out the door.

TT arrived in time for second period. It was Psychology. He had no idea what his first period class was, good thing he didn’t even try to make it. He kept adjusting his balls beneath the jeans. Walking to class, he loved seeing his reflection in the windows. He watched as his huge legs wrapped around his each other, slowly moving the lumbering hulk to class.

He got to class before the other kids, first period wasn’t technically done yet, but Dan was here because he coached and they had morning workouts. The blonde bad ass smiled as TT sauntered through the door.

“Yo man, how’s it going?”
“Dan the man! How you doin’?”
“Fucking sweet man, football practice was sweet.”
“Awesome dude. I’m gonna join the team today.”
“Fucking sweet dude!”

Brute and Rick finally ambled into the classroom, Rick trailing behind with his mouth hanging wide open, as always.

“Hey fucker!” Brute greeted TT.
“What’s fucking up dude?” TT responded.
“Damn dude, you look fucking tough.”
“Thanks fucker!”

“Hey dudes,” Dan interrupted. “You fuckers ready for the game tomorrow?”
“Fuck yeah!” Both Brute and Rick responded.
“Tomorrow, shit dudes. That fucking sucks. I really wanted to fucking play.”
“You can fucking play dude,” Brute said. “You’ll be ready in no time.”
“Fo’ sho’,” Dan answered.
“Sweet,” TT said. They talked for a few more minutes before Brute knocked a book off Dan’s desk.
“Yo, TT, pick that shit up, will ya?”

And TT swaggered over and bent down to pick up the book. And as his hand touched the object, his dick unloaded into his jock. Cumming over and over and over again. Thick grey matter followed soon by a thick white goo. It flowed over the jock and began to pour down his legs. His jeans, Brute’s jeans, had torn down the entire center seam on both sides, dropped the legs to the ground. TT’s eyes rolled back into his head as his voice got a little deeper, his muscles got a little thicker, his jaw got a little squarer, and he got a hell of a lot dumber.

The three jocks behind TT were laughing in their deep, dumb way. Finally standing back up, TT joined in with their bellowing laughter. Finally they grabbed his arms and pulled TT to the locker room. They threw the muscle mountain into the shower and washed away the goo that came out of his dick.

“Dude,” Dan said. “You really earned your name with that one?”
“What the fuck do you mean?” TT grunted.
“Thunder Thighs,” Brute answered.
“It’s what TT stands for. Thunder thighs, cause your quads are so goddam huge dude.” And with that all the jocks began to laugh again.
They led TT over to a locker with the initials TT engraved on a piece of metal. The name ‘Corey Thanigan’ was taped on the locker as well.
“Who the fuck is fuckin’ Corey Thanigan?” TT asked.
“That was you dude!” Brute answered.
“What the fuck man, no it ain’t. I’m mother-fucking TT!”
“You are now dude. But you use to be this loser nerd Corey. But I helped you out. See, after you fell down the first time, I decided to help you. You were so fucking pathetic. So smart, but you couldn’t even fuckin’ walk, man. So, I decided to make you a jock bro. Every time you ripped your pants, which I make fucking sure happened a damn lot, you got bigger and better. I made you a jock.”
“That’s fucking sweet fucker. Thanks a fucking lot!” TT barked.
“Fuck man, that’s not even the best part. Each time you pants ripped so did your brain, you came in your pants and were blowing your brains out. Slowly, more and more of your brain was fucked out of your body as your muscles grew and grew.”
“I don’t have a fucking brain? Fucking cool, man.”
“Yeah dude,” Brute said, knocking TT on his head. “The muscle grew into the empty space. Now, dude, you’re a literal fucking muscle head.”
“Fuck yeah!”
“Fuck yeah is fucking right. Now, you’re a big fucking, dumbass jock. All it would have fucking taken was for you to just catch yourself. But you were so fucking pathetic man, you just fell. Then, I just made you tear that shit, cause I wanted your hulking body for the game Friday. You were already so dumb and obedient that you did whatever I told you, never questioning how big you suddenly were or how hard it was to think.”
“Fuck yeah dude!”
“Now, you fucking gotta get dressed!”

TT walked to his locker and opened it up. First, he pulled out a jock. He pulled it up firmly over his balls. It made his ass cheeks seem to stand out even more and the protruding mound of his cock was so fucking masculine. Next, a pair of gold spandex shorts. Sliding them gently up his leg, he loved how they clung to every curve of his body. The shorts filled the dimples of his ass and clung firmly into the space between the buttocks, pressing against his asshole. Each defined point in his legs could be seen through the pants, it rippled and flexed with each moment. A gold spandex top followed next. It lacked sleeves, but still seemed to highlight his arms. Every curve of the abs was perfectly visible, along with his belly button. It stretched to its limit to accommodate the pecs and delts. His collarbone could be traced perfectly. He was just so big and so muscular and so fucking dumb.

“Your thighs are too big for pants now,” Dan said. “So, you can just wear spandex all the time.”
“Fuck yeah!” TT took a pair of black spandex pants and pulled them over the shorts. Two layers later, the cleft under his ass created by the jock was still perfectly visible, along with every cut form the muscles. It sat so high over his massive ass, he looked like some bodybuilder from the 80's. The tight feeling of the spandex was pure heaven to TT, he loved how it slid over his perfect body. Plus it didn’t get in the way when he walked, his legs were enough trouble as it was. Putting on a pair of shoes, the new jock was ready.

Dan led the way back to class, followed by Brute, and swaggering behind, his massive legs gliding over each other, TT brought up the rear. TT loved the class now. Sitting with his dumbfuck jock bros. Listening to their fucking awesome coach talk. Brute took TT to his new classes, as he was too dumb now for his old school. Plus the football team got special classes. Third period was their second meal of the day. And TT chowed down with the rest of the boys on lean meats and protein shakes.

Fourth period was English, taught by head coach Dobson. They didn’t fucking do nothin’ but read papers about football and talk about plays and shit. Damn it was so fucking awesome. Then was lunchtime, were TT now sat with the jocks and ate as much protein and vitamins as he possibly could. There was no time for talking during meals, it was all about calorie intake. Fifth period was the second workout session of the day. TT stripped down to his shorts and gold shirt and worked out with the jocks. They all matched, and it created just a sense of belonging and group mentality. He was so happy that they all had the same dreams and hopes and ideals. It was fucking sweet. Sixth period was actually football practice, where they would stay for a few hours.

TT finally put the cup in his jock, and was so happy he came a little in it. The schools game pants were black with gold trim. The jersey was gold, with some black. All the guys lined up, looking exactly like what they were. Not individuals but jock soldiers. And TT finally learned his position. He was a halfback. A big, dumb halfback. Finally, the look of confusion faded from TT’s eyes, as he was overcome with a beautiful calm obedience that controlled him for the rest of his life.

7:00 remaining in the quarter . . .