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Jocking, The: Halftime
Rock My World
|Kai couldnít forgive himself. He sat in despair for days, even commands from Snake unable to move him. It was a sadistic catatonic fixation, without the waking.
I canít believe I did that. It didnít happen. But I know it did. My god, I can never forgive myself.
Kaiís rest was so intense that Briggs decided to pull out the big guns. He took the huge muscle man back into the jocking chamber and let the master of conversions, Brute, have his way. Brute decided that the current Kai was unsuited for his place as a tough jock and decided to give him a make over. Brute changed his name to Cole Rock, and everyone calls him Rock. He was still a defensive end, but he was totally dependent on Brute to tell him what to do. Brute took away his ability to speak or even ask questions, he could only respond when spoken to.
Kai was aware that his mind was changing but couldnít quite determine what was different. He remembered when he first started playing football, his first jersey accidentally had the name COLE on it instead of ROCK. Why rock? Itís my last name. Cole Rock. I rock their world. And Brute, god he is so awesome. Heís such a fucking tough mother-fucking jock. Fuck yeah. All I ever fucking wanna do is fucking obey him. Fuck fucking yeah. Fucking fucking fuck yeah. Brute, you are fucking the fucking man, fucker. God, I fucking love fucking football.
The man who stepped out of tube was quite different from Kai. Rock was a tough player. Brute made sure that he could really only say fuck. He was totally obedient on and off the field. And while the toughest portions of Kaiís personality still remained, Brute had managed to permanently alter parts of his personality. Rock wasnít dumb, but he was almost totally incapable of individual thought. Rockís hair was a flattop, and it wouldnít grow back. The multiple colors still revealed his true form, but that was it. Rock even had two tribal bands tattooed around his immense biceps. Brute high-fived the new jock, and led him out onto the field.
Rock was a perfect player, fast and powerful. He relied on Brute to guide him through the motions, each time reminding him what he was trying to accomplish. Rush the quarterback, sack or tackle whoever has the ball. Rock knew that part of what was happening was wrong, part of him still wanted to resist. But resist what? His life was great, no worries, only the best game in the world all the time. But that voice that told him to fight never quit, and Rock still kept his ears and eyes open for some invisible knowledge.
He got it one night. Despite some the identity loss associated with Kai becoming Rock, he did gain a large amount of freedom and some cleverness. He often pretended to enter catatonic fixation until the others were gone. Then he would go exploring. He never found anything except a few conversions, which got him horny everything he watched. Part of fought against the desire to cum, and that part always won. This time, he found a hall heís never been to before. It was full of offices and inside one were two people with whom Kai and Rock were very familiar. One was an aged coach, the other a mousy little rat.
Briggs and Jamie Carter were discussing the changes the Rock had recently undergone.
"Rock is great. I canít image the team without him," Briggs said.
"Yes, but I still worry about Kai."
"Donít even say that name, he is gone."
"But we couldnít remove all of the TAN1, even the catatonic fixation. And that always letís us change any little problem or blip in the players minds."
"Donít worry, this is perfect. Kai will surrender of his own will. He has already almost accepted everything."
"But itís not just him. Weíve had to alter many players during fixation. They are regaining some aspects of their personalities."
"Relax, once the jocking is complete it wonít matter. There will be no other options. Everyone will finally embrace the new world."
"Is that happening soon?"
"All I have to do is take care of two little problems."
"But Kai is gone."
"Yes, but it seems that I have a girl problem."
"The Barnette woman?"
"Sheís the original research scientist in charge of XAP. And sheís well aware that something is going on. Weíll push in Miami soon, and the attack on the complex will solve our problem."
"Will you remove her from existence?"
"No, I will kill her. She and Adam, one death for one life. I know the prophecy well, they are the split souls it mentions. The two halves that must be separate for this to work."
"You know, there is a question about the jocks that Iíve never asked you."
"Their bodies, as they continue to change, all their body fluids- blood, spit, cum- they all change to some substance, like bile. What is that?"
Briggs gave a large, hearty laugh before he answered. "That," he exclaimed, "is XAP. It overrides their systems. Cum is usually the final substance it replaces. Once the boys spew XAP, the change is finished. They are a perfect jock. They canít be hurt anymore, because XAP wonít let them. They bleed XAP, which is easily remedied. You see, the substance turns their once sperm producing testes into sites for the production of XAP. The only thing that can hurt them is having their balls cut off. And thatís why the cups they always wear are made of the hardest metals we could muster."
"So, Kai, I mean Rock . . ."
"Once he gives into the sexual Ďurgesí that is the end. He will surrender himself to a life of eternal pleasure."
Rock stood outside the room, listening intently to the entire conversation. So, he would lose the little voice when he came pure XAP. And he would have eternal pleasure. But why did the little man call him Kai? That name sounded so familiar, but its meaning was out of reach. He didnít know what to do. He wanted to ask Brute, but knew that he wasnít allowed to ask questions. So Rock walked around the complex, stretching his big legs. In his confusion, Rock found scratching the cleft of his massive pec made him feel so much better. He rubbed his bouncy ass and found it comforting as well. Heading back to the locker rooms, he examined himself in the mirror. Staring back at him was Rock Cole, defensive end. And somehow, just looking at himself made him feel better. He knew the guy in the mirror. His multi colored flat top, highlighting his large forehead. His jaw was strong and square and his entire face look almost ape-like. A huge, vein-filled neck leading down to wide and huge deltoids. Arms so large he couldnít even put them behind his back and grab them. His back was so huge that he could only wear spandex and lycra, and even then some shirts had to stretch. He bounced his pecs while he looked at himself, admiring his huge control over his body. It was so familiar, so comforting. Straining his neck, he could barely see the entrenched eight pack, so developed that no flexing was ever required. He lovingly rubbed his fat, perky ass. His thigh bones were exposed in the form of the hottest models. Though he couldnít see them, Rock knew that his quads were thicker than a fat manís beer belly, and no part of them would ever jiggle. His calves looked like two melons. And his huge feet, perfect for carrying his beautiful body. And his cock, his big jock cock. Slowly tilting upwards. He could feel the blood and some XAP rushing in to fill it, making it harder to concentrate. His body was perfect, a machine designed for football. He bent over like getting on the line, watching his rippling back as he moved. He could feel his ass constantly bouncing as he moved. And his cock was hard as a rock. As hard as him. God, it would feel so good to touch it. But the man said that jacking off would cause him to lose the voice. Torn between pleasure and caution, Rock sat in front of the mirror.
Brute walked up behind Rock, still in line formation, and put in firm hand on his ass and began to jiggle the fat. Rock got harder still. He was waiting for an order. He wanted to ask Brute what to do. Finally, Brute leaned over the muscle machine and pressed his cock against Rockís bottom.
"Fucking horny, ainít you?" He asked the sweating Rock, who nodded in affirmation. "Wouldnít it fucking feel nice to fucking grab that fucking cock, fucker? Fuck yeah, to just let the fucking jock juice flow in you. Can you accept it? The pleasure. Jerk off for me." Needing no further encouragement, Rock proceed to grope his big cock. He was still in line formation, one hand holding himself off the ground, the other violently clutching his painfully hard member. Oh god, it feels so good. "Fucking tell me how you fucking feel," Brute commanded.
"Fucking awesome. Fuck yeah, dude. It feels so fucking good, fuckers. Fucking fuck!"
"Fuck yeah, do you fucking wanna play football?"
"Fuck yeah, fucker. All I fucking ever want to fucking do is fucking play football. And be a fucking jock. Oh fucking hell, my fucking fuck stick feels so fucker fucking good."
"Say youíre a fucking dumbass jock."
"Iím a fucking dumbass jock."
"Say football is life you fucking life."
"Football is my fucking life."
"All you fucking ever want to fucking do is play fucking football."
"All I fucking ever want to fucking do is play fucking football, man!"
"And you play fucking football by fucking obeying me."
"I fucking do everything fucking thing you tell me to, fucker."
"Who is your god?"
"Say Briggs is your fucking god!"
"Briggs is fucking god!" At that moment, Rock came all over the room. Part of it was come, but he also shot large wads of thick XAP. Rockís muscles expanded further. His shoulder pushed out a few more inches. His pecs became to large to see below. His balls hung even lower, producing more XAP. Rockís hair lost the multi colors, becoming blonde with a few red streaks. A new haze descended in his eyes, making him look perpetually confused. A new simplicity had set into his mind. All Rock had to do was play football. Briggs was god. It was all so easy.
"Címon, fucker!" Brute said as he led the now 7'0, 540 pound stud back to the lockers.
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