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Jocking, The: Kai Cole
|The weeks passed, and Kai spent much of his time observing others and watching the changes. For the team members, it had been a busy five weeks. Brock had become a hard-core jock, spending his time practicing and partying. He only talked to football jocks. And his days were spent thinking about the game. Stacker took it upon himself to see the conversion of the nerds in the school. First, he lured his friend, Simon Schmidt, to the room and watched as he transformed into a wide receiver. Briggs laughed as he reviewed the digital image of Simon. A hardcore math nerd, spent his time studying and building a . . .hovercraft. Huh, well we canít let all that intelligence go to waste. 5'0 120 pounds. He would be better suited as 6'7 476 pounds. Simon was terrified as he stood in the machine. His body began to throb in pain, causing him to let out a yelp. Staring down, he noticed that his feet were getting bigger, much bigger from a size 6 to 14. Huge veins began pumping through his leg and entered his calves. As they were pumped with the fluid, they increased to the size of footballs. His tiny thighs became like two tree trunks filled with veins. They spread over his body, sending his five inch dick straight out, but it wasnít five inches and more. It pushed forward to a neat 8 inches. His sac and balls enlarged to match his new proportions. The veins pushed through his stomach, leaving a six pack and thick veins. His ass bubbled with fat, as it grew to ten times the old size The veins spread through his chest and back, endowing him with over 70 inches of muscle. He gained huge shoulders, like a steel beam. His puny arms became as thick as bowling balls and his forearms grew to match. His hands became thick and worn, but still maintained the precision heíd had before. The veins coiled through his neck, dropping his voice. His jaw became square, as the rest of his face looked as though it had suffered from heavy beatings. His scalp began to itch as all of his hair receded into his head, permanently. Finally his white skin turned a deep chocolate. Simon just stared in amazement at his body. Once a puny geek, now a huge bodybuilder. Briggs was quite satisfied with the physical change, but there was still the mind. He may be able to help me still. I need him to think and obey. Okay . . here we go. "Simon, Simon I know you can hear me." Simon looked up at Briggs. "What?" He said in a tired voice. "Simon, you are going to be a jock. One way or another. Hereís the thing. Youíre a smart guy. I could really use your help. If you would just work with me. . ." "Work . . . with you?" Already the idea sounded like a good idea in Simonís brain. Briggs was a nice guy, he should help him. Besides, being a jock would be really cool. "Okay." "That a boy, but first. Simon isnít a good name for a big, tough wide receiver." "No . . . itís not . . . " "From now on, your name is . . .Hunter. Josh Hunter. The Hunter." "Josh . . . Hunter . . . " "Good now," Briggs entered all the other changes into the machine. Josh first played football in ninth grade and loved it. He was still intelligent in math and sciences, but put most of his energy toward football. He wanted the coach to succeed and was determined to help. He was called the Hunter cause he could hunt down any ball and catch it. Simonís brain was struggling with the changes. I donít play football, but Josh does. Hunter is a wide receiver. Iím awesome, but Iím not him. Yes, I am. I am Josh Hunter. Wide receiver. I play for Briggs, he is a genius of a man and I want to help him in his plans. I want to serve Briggs. Football is life, and will be for everyone. The changes set in his mind, and Josh Hunter was born. He still had the haze of stupidity common to all the other jocks, but he could function in math and science. The huge receiver stepped out and put on his jock. Mike had waited for his friend, and they high fived and walked out, deciding who to turn next. Briggs gave Hunter a slap on the ass before he left. Brute decided to help the skaters become jocks. His target was Jarod Smith, the biggest punk in the school. Lots of the other skaters only were such because they followed Jarod. Brute; however, decided to play this one a little different. They were experimenting with the reality alterations. He was trying to slowly change Jarod. He had first just talk to him, been friendly and talkative. He could talk about skateboarding, being a former skater. Brute worked hard to make Jarod feel comfortable around him. The slacker loosened and started engaging in conversation with Brute. They had gym class together fourth hour. All the slackers took it for an easy pass. Brute had gotten some of his teammates to sneak in and steal Jarodís stuff. After class, he walked in to discover his belongings missing. He had no clothes to change into, and had decided not to wear a shirt that day. He would be walking around the school in a pair of shorts. "Shit, anyone got some extra clothes?" Most of the class was on the football team, so no one spoke up. "Fuck yeah, I do," Brute answered. He pulled out a football jersey, a jock, and some tight jeans. "This is all I fucking have." "Shit." But Jarod had no choice, he had to go to class, so he took the clothes and them on. He had always worked out, and the clothes seemed to accentuate his body. The jersey, number 80, clung to his body, giving him a visible "V" shape. "Looks fucking good," Brute commented. Jarod really looked like a jock dressed up like that. "I canít go out like this. The other guys will ream me!" "Well fuck, come to lunch with us," Brute suggested. "With the jocks," Jarod responded. But he had no choice. So, he agreed to come along. Lunch was actually fun. The jocks treated him like on of their own, hitting him and having eating contests with them. Jarod had a great time and wondered how he never got along with these guys before. "Theyíre cool dudes," he thought to himself. He was having such fun with them that he agreed to go out after school today. Practice didnít start until late that day. Jarod met up with them after school and they went to the mall. The talked about school, football, and Jarod tried hard to join in the conversation. A part of him really wanted the guys to like him. In fact, he began adopting their slang and movements. He stride gained a bit of a swagger, and he walked with his legs farther apart. "Hey, dude," Brute said. "Youíre still weariní my shit!" Jarod had completely forgotten about the jersey. "Shit, man," Jarod said. "You need it back, fucker?" "Fuck no, Rod!" Brute said. "Rod?" Jarod thought. "Is that me?" "Yeah you are fucking ĎRodí, dude." "Rod.. . . I like that," Jarod thought to himself. "You know dudes, I really need a new pair of sneakers." And with that, Brute took him to an athletic shoe store and, showed him a pair of football cleats. "Come fucking on, dude. They are so fucking cool." "Theyíre a size 16." "Just try them on." Jarod tried on the shoes, and was amazed to discover that it was a perfect fit. How had he worn size 10's before? They felt so natural on his feet. He bought the shoes, because all the guys told Rod that he needed them. They walked around some more until it was time for practice. The guys drove back to the school. As Jarod was leaving the guys, Brute shouted back, "Where you goin, fucker? Donít you want to try out your fucking cool pair of fucking new shoes?" Jarod was confused, but he did want to try them out. And they were football shoes. Where better? So he went into the locker room with the guys and Briggs asked if he wanted to be on the team. Rod wanted to be on the team badly, but Jarod just said that he would like to try. Briggs handed him pants, pads, a helmet. All of the equipment seemed too big. "Arenít you giving me a jersey?" "What about the one you have on?" "Isnít it Bruteís?" "Fuck no," Brute spoke up wearing his number 54 jersey. "That one is yours Rod." Briggs just told Rod to run some drills and then he would see how he was doing. He told Jarod that he was gonna be a tight end, and would have to practice catching and blocking. He went out and got on the line like a pro. "This is easy," Jarod thought. He ran all the drills perfectly. He could feel his body pumping as he worked out all his muscles playing football. As practice continued, the equipment didnít feel too big any more. When he reached back to scratch his butt, Jarod discovered that the spandex was barely containing his ass. The entire uniform felt tighter, and better. Yeah it felt a lot better to Rod. Jarod had to think about some of the plays, but after a while Rod didnít have to think about anything. Halfway through practice, Jarod had a boner that wasnít going away. He went to the locker room and stripped down to jack off. What he saw in the mirror scared him, but it seemed perfectly natural. He was a 6'7 523 pounds tight end. Veins shooting through his entire body. His hair was bleach blonde. His chest had to be at least 75 inches, and his ass was mountainous. He began to grope his big cock. His fucking nine inch fuck stick. It felt so good. God, he loved this feeling. Is this what it felt like to be jock? Yeah, this was jock. Iím a fucking jock. Iím Rod. Fuck yeah, I am a fucking fucker. Fuck yeah. And he came. As he did, he fucked out any thought of his old life. He was fucking Rod, the tight end. And he put back on his gear to get back to practice. Briggs was waiting for him outside, and gave a big whack on the ass before he went to practice. |
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