Booty Text

Roommate Needed Six

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After a few cold days to remind us it was October, the sun decided to come out one last time. It seemed that everyone on campus was making the most of the nice weather. Many were wearing shorts , probably for the last time and schoolwork was the last thing on everyone's mind. As I walked back from class, I noticed a group of five guys playing basketball at the public court. A muscular blonde with red and white shorts went for a long shot. The ball bounced of the rim towards the sidewalk and road. I stopped the ball from rolling into the street and picked up.

"Thanks man," said the blonde as he trotted towards me, sweat glistening down on his shirtless chest.

"Hey Luke," called one of his teammates. "Ask him if he wants to join in. Three on three."

"That's okay," I said as I offered him the ball. "I haven't played in years."

"You sure," said Luke as he grabbed the ball. He looked me straight in the eye and added, "I mean, it's such a nice day and all."

At that moment something stirred inside me. These guys seemed nice enough. None of my friends played any sports and I had always liked basketball in high school.

"What the heck," I answered, following Luke back to the court.

"All right! Thanks dude!" said one of the guys. "I'm Dave. You gonna go shirts or skins?"

"Shirts ... for now," I responded, feeling a little bit awkward. These guys were clearly gym buffs and I was far from it. Everyone on the team introduced themselves. I would be on the shirts team with Dave and Chris, against Joey, Luke, and Sean. We were evenly matched, except I was clearly the smallest guy.

The game began slowly, but as soon as I was given the ball, I felt a new sense of confidence in me. I dribbled past Sean and sunk a short jump shot. When I landed I felt stronger and faster.

"Nice shot," said Dave.

After a few more minutes of playing, I was starting to get into a groove, like I was in perfect form physically. Our team was beginning to pull ahead.

"Water break," said Joey.

The sweat had begun to run down my shirt, so I pulled it off. Underneath, I was surprised to see that I had no tan lines. I never went shirtless, so I was very pale, but today, I had a perfect tan. My body has also grown larger and thicker. My chest was thick with muscle and my abs were well defined. I used my shirt to wipe down the sweat.

"Alright, so how about you go over to skins, because we'd kill them otherwise. Just trade with Luke," said Dave.

"Cool by me, bro," I said, giving him a high five, surprised for three reasons. 1) I never used the word "bro" or gave high fives, 2) I hardly knew these people, and 3) I was completely relaxed being part of this team, like I had played with them for months.

We played for another hour, trading teams and just messing around. I had a couple nice dunks, since I was the tallest and biggest player. We gave each other high fives, fist bumps, and made crude jokes. By the end of the game, they had all taken to calling me Brett. Which as far as I could remember was my name. When we left the court to walk home, I had completely forgotten my life before basketball and these bros of mine.

This Is The Future That Liberals Want

Ostello della Moda: Christofano

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Tyler tried arguing with the man at the luggage counter but it was getting him nowhere. "My luggage was never transferred from Oslo ... but what will I do?" Tyler had planned on arriving later than his friends, but at the last minute, his booking company offered him a free upgrade to travel earlier. He was supposed to get there in the evening, but it was only 10:00 AM. Clearly, this "free" upgrade had cost him a day without his luggage. He had checked everything except a small backpack with his passport, phone, and a sweatshirt. He basically had the clothes on his back.

"And ... when my luggage comes ... you will transfer it to my hotel?" he asked.

"Yes," said the man speaking with very broken English. "Ostello della Moda..." he continued in rapid Italian. A few minutes later, he had negotiated with a few more customer service agents to get a free taxi ride to the hostel. The driver said he worker for "Ostello" and would bring him there immediately. But after an hour of winding through the grimier streets of Milan, Tyler wasn't so sure he trusted the man. The taxi drove past what looked like the red carpet to a fashion show or celebrity event. A few meters later, the cab pulled into a gated courtyard.

"Ostello della Moda," said the driver.

"Are you sure?" said Tyler. "This doesn't look like the picture I remember." The driver opened the trunk, jumped out and grabbed his backpack. Before Tyler could open his door, the driver ran into the courtyard with his backpack.

"Shit!" Tyler shouted as he struggled with the door, stumbled out of the cab, and raced after the man. The man turned into a dark door and Tyler followed him. He needed to get his backpack! Otherwise, he was lost in Italy with no phone, no IDs, and no money! He burst into the dark room and was knocked out cold by a stranger hiding inside.

"No ... please ... I don't have anything ..." Tyler mumbled as a pair of men pinned him down. His cab driver had opened his backpack and found his money and ID. "Let me go ... please ..." But the men had him trapped. One of them put a cloth over his mouth that had a fragrant chemical -- almost cologne like. He gagged a little, but then relaxed. He drifted off to sleep...

When he woke up, he could faintly hear electronic dance music through the walls. He had expected to be tied up in a dark room somewhere, but was just sitting on a chair in what looked like a dressing room. He blinked in the bright lights and saw that he had been stripped except for pair of tight athletic shorts. He looked down at his body in shock. His dark tan skin was covered in short curly hairs. His torso and abs were chiseled. His arms had small veins popping out toned muscle. He looked in the mirror and saw dark eyes looking back, a sexy stubbled jaw, and a thin dark mustache and goatee.

"Merda, che ora è?" he thought to himself, realizing a second later, than he had thought the phrase in Italian, not English. His head was pounding and the music seemed to be getting louder.

A short aggressive woman burst into the room and shouted at him. "Christo! Mossa! Tu sei il prossimo!" He jumped up and raced after her. He was backstage of a theatre that was filled with smoke, bright lights, and upbeat electronic music. Dozens of other men were crowded around him, each surrounded by crew members adjusting their clothes, fixing their makeup, and pushing them towards the door onto the stage. One of the crew dangled some necklaces over his neck and placed a neon baseball cap on his head. They adjusted a few bracelets on his arms. A young man wearing a headset pointed at him as the crew finished by oiling his chest so he looked sweaty and rugged. In a second, he followed the man in front of him onto the runway.

It was an exhilarating experience. Dozens of cameras flashed as he walked down the runway, making his turns, and modeling his body and clothes. He felt empowered as they gazed on his nearly naked body. It was a primal and raw feeling. He turned back towards the entrance -- a completely changed man! He had become Christofano -- one of hundreds of male models working in fashion district of Milan. With every new outfit, every camera flash, and every trip down the runway, he was embracing his new life.

After the show, he found was given a backpack with a set of clothes. He assumed they were his, so his way back to the courtyard where the taxi had dropped him off. The driver was waiting there. He handed him a cell phone and passport, which he said that Christofano had left behind accidentally in the cab. He thanked him and they drove off to the "Ostello della Moda." He saw a message from the airport and the hostel on his phone. His bag had been transferred to the hostel, he was in Bunk C. He texted his friend, who he hoped would meet him at the bar for a night of celebration.

In his mind, the thoughts of the airport, the missing luggage, the mysterious taxi driver, reminded him of something -- it was odd! But, then he remembered that he had done a photo shoot in Oslo recently ... or had he? Was he meeting some American friends at the hostel? But, who did he know from America? And wasn't his career based in Milan? Was he living in a hostel? Didn't he have an apartment that he shared with his friends ... what were there names? He couldn't remember, but figured it was probably fatigue from the show.

He walked into the hostel and the host greeted him. He explained the whole situation with the luggage -- two of his friends had arrived, but he should just wait at the bar. He drained his first beer, still a little lost about why he was spending the night at this hostel. Suddenly, someone shouted out his name.

"Christo!"

He turned to the man, a wave of recognition passing over him. "Antonio!"

They talked about how tonight they were celebrating with friends. First, they needed to drink! Then, they had a surprise for Bruno ... their friend waiting upstairs!

Born to be a father

--- Originally posted on 2024-07-10 by breedertfs ---

--- Want to read more? View all stories by breedertfs ---

I'm a gay man in my early 20's. I know I'm young but I keep having these thoughts.....or this desperate need to be a father. I don't understand where it's coming from.

That's your body telling you how things are gonna be now, bro. This is your new normal.

It's in your muscle memory - even if you claim to have never wanted to be a breeder before now. This urge to spread your seed has been lying dormant in your DNA, just waiting for your desires to waken inside your throbbing cock and for the hunger for wet pussy to cloud your rational mind. Don't you love the way I talk about women and their bodies? The way the men in my stories just can't help but to suck on a pair of fat, bouncing tits? How their thick, slobby tongues want nothing more than to slide between some wet, slick pussy lips?

Imagine the squelch, the squirt, the sound of her high pitched moaning. The way her eyelids will flutter when you unleash your hot, thick load inside her.

You're rock hard, bro. Don't deny it. Your hips buck with pleasure, your package feels so fat and hot, your wide cock head rubbing the fabric of your underwear with each needy thrust you make. The young gay man who made his home inside your mind finds himself surrounded by a sudden harem of hot women, blondes and redheads and brunettes, all with their huge breasts exposed and their greedy fingers between their juicy thighs. This makes you moan in the outside world, your boner raging as you continue to gyrate, your work pants growing taut around your much stronger, hairier legs.

"Yeah, you like that, bitch?" an unfamiliar voice speaks from your lips, bristles of dark hair framing your strengthening jaw. Your hands grow larger and callused, reaching out in front of you and gripping around the waist of an imaginary slut. Your eyes turn dark and brooding, your once youthful face growing older and more grizzled. The strange voice continues to deepen and shift as you moan, your arms growing thick with muscle as your larger fingers pretend to reach towards a pair of jiggling tits. You swear you've never touched a set of breasts before, but your new body can conjure the feeling so easily, as if you were just squeezing a pair the very night before. Perky nipples under your fingertips, jiggling flesh in your palms. It's so natural. "Fuck. Tell Daddy what a needy whore you are."

Your once trendy hair pulls back into your scalp and darkens, becoming a close cropped masculine hairstyle. Your work clothes become more professional, colorful pastel shirt becoming a simple short sleeved blue button up, your khakis fading into simple denim. You're a straight man, after all. You don't feel the need to dress up or stand out. You just feel the need to push your cock into a wide open cunt, to feel the pussy juice accepting your shaft and allowing your nine inches to slide right in. Your nuts swell inside your underwear, full of virile seed that desperately wants to be fired into a waiting womb. You moan again, drool sliding down your stubbled chin, your expression taken over by primal lust.

The former you is still trapped inside his mind, staring at the group of women that have him cornered. To his horror, he watches as the moaning bimbos begin to cry out louder, reaching their soft hands up to grab their breasts as each of their tits begin to swell with milk. The old you watches in horror and amazement, all these big boobed beauties suddenly taking it to a new level, but your awe settles into shocked terror as suddenly all of the women begin to reach down to their stomachs, which begin to rapidly inflate as pussy juice squirts and runs down their trembling legs. In a matter of seconds, your fading former self is trapped with a harem of pregnant women. Everywhere you look is a wet cunt, a fat tit dribbling milk, a pair of kissable lips sighing a moan.

The old you doesn't stand a chance inside the mind of a breeder. He begins to shake, his image blurring and beginning to fade, all of his youth and former goals burning away to make room for the superior man who has made your body his home. Inside and out. This is you. The women in your mind are just memories of former and future conquests alike, an endless sea of women that will swell with your seed and raise your children. Nothing turns you on more than this. You have found your purpose in life.

And there's no shame in that. You want to be a father because you were quite literally born to be a father. And now, my dear friend, your new body is going to make sure you have no choice but to be fruitful and multiply.

Better clock in those hours at your new office job. You're gonna have a lot of hungry mouths to feed - and no shortage of women to impregnate.

Dillon fumbled with the business card in his fingers and remembered how he got it earlier with fond thoughts. He ran into this stud of a man only mere hours earlier and he surely wanted him and was dropping hints like anvils, but why wouldn't Dillon just pick up the phone then and call him up.

It could have been that marshal was an obvious bro while he himself was the scrawniest twink around. Maybe it was also the fact that he was still a virgin, which seemed to be an embarrassing fact to him that he resented the hell out of. Sometimes he wondered what it was like, but he was afraid. He was afraid that it wouldn't exceed his expectations or that it would just hurt in general. Losing your virginity is suppose to be a defining moment of your life, but would it just end up as an embarrassment that he'd have to suppress in order to function in this world. Marshall surely didn't seem to be one to play games, but the thought of going through with this terrified him. If he didn't he'd feel like a coward, which in some senses was much worse.

''That's it I'm gonna do it.'' he retrieved his phone from his pocket and typed in the number from the card but he couldn't bring himself to press send. It seemed almost impossible for him, as if some force was stopping him from calling.

Dillon let out a breath of air and closed his eyes ''I'm gonna do it. I can't be scared for the rest of my life.''

Without looking, Dillon pressed the button quickly so that he wouldn't have a chance to pussy out. He could here the phone on the other side start to ring, his stomach sank. Part of him hoped Marshall wouldn't pick up, but luck wasn't in his favor.

''Hello, this is Marshall and who's this?"

Dillon felt a lump form in his throat "It's Dillon."

"Dillon who?" Marshall asked.

He became a bit hurt, thinking that Marshall could just forget him so easily and the awkward feeling was felt on the other side by Marshall.

"I was only kidding kid. so what time?''

''What?''

''What time do you wanna meet at Duddy's?''

''Um.. I don't know, when do you wanna... Go?''

''A little nervous are we.'' Dillon could hear Marshall laugh on the other side ''I'm not your first am I?''

''Yes. Is... Is that bad?''

''No not at all, well unless you cum to early." Marshal laughed "No reason, to get all stressed out. What happened to that cocky attitude you were showing off earlier?"

He couldn't help but wonder what the hell he meant by cocky. He'd never been a very confident person his whole life but something about what Marshal was saying was resonating in his head. He straightened his posture and felt a wave of swagger over take him. With it a strange tingling sensation began to permeate throughout his body but before he could say more marshall continued "Just be at room 4 by 8, that'll give you a couple hours to get adjusted. I'll talk to yuh soon."

Before Dillon could get a word in Marshall hung up.

Dillon stood there confused as he heard marshall hang up the phone and felt a strange sensation run through his body that he'd never felt before. He shook his head and let out a breath then walked toward his closet. He didn't understand what marshal meant by giving him a few hours to get adjusted. Adjusted into what exactly? He pushed the idea aside and decided to start getting ready He wanted to make sure he looked good but wasn't sure what to wear. Dillon pulled open the closet door and stared inside for a second before turning around with a smile on his face. He grabbed a blue dress shirt and black slacks off the hanger and set them on top of his bed.

He thought for a moment to put them on but a thought pulsed in his head. Normally this was what he'd wear to meet up with a guy but for some reason he didn't feel like he needed to dress up for him and eye balled a pair of shorts and a t-shirt instead. He put on the shorts and shirt then threw on a pair of sandals. Once he was done changing, that strange feeling in his stomach only spread through the rest of his small frame and made his body tremble. All at once he collapsed to the floor and felt his body starting to shake.

He was confused and scared at first as he watched his body swell and grow, fearing he was having an allergic reaction but quickly realized that he was packing on nothing but muscle. His arms and legs grew thicker while his chest and abs turned chiseled, it wasn't long before his shirt started to tear from the seams and he pulled it off with his new found strength. The more he watched the more he felt a rush of adrenaline course through his veins. He could feel his own masculinity getting thrown up to top notch as every aspect of his body started to become more manly by the minute.

His jawline got harder and his nose became broader, his ears grew wider and his eyes were now a tantalizing blue. His hair also grew shaggier as his small frame started to grow until he finally reached his full height at 6'3" tall.

His new body was changing with one thing after another. With every uncontrollable spasm he made became a different change to his physical appearance. His mind was racing with what all this meant but he found it harder to think as hair began to sprout across his body. His arms grew thick and hairy while his legs turned so much better than they did before, growing thicker and longer with each passing second.

Not a single part of his body remained unchanged as his back grew broad and muscular while his chest developed even bigger muscles and his abs bulked out. The hair covered him like fur growing over all of his body and became slick with sweat that wreaked of a manly stench. The smell was getting to him as his thoughts started to grow more sluggish and he could feel himself getting dumber by the second.

He felt another rush of adrenaline flow through his veins as his dick began to swell and the pain in his loins increased. He tried to move but his limbs would not respond to his commands as he laid there on the floor unable to do anything. The smell coming off his muscled jock body was strong and infected his nostrils but the disgusting odor only turned him on more. It was the scent of an alpha male. He felt his cock throbbing in his shorts and realized that it too had grown larger, stretching out his tight boxer briefs.

His cock didn't stop growing as it stretched out his underwear until finally stopping at 12 inches, leaving an impossibly big tent in his briefs. This new body's ability to grow continued as he noticed how his balls were now significantly larger than before, hanging low and heavy between his legs.

As if he hadn't already become enough of an embarrassment to himself, he couldn't control his new body as his hips began to uncontrollably buck into the air as he felt himself about to drop a potent load in his shorts. As if he was trying to save face, he managed to get to his feet and ripped off his shorts with a roar, letting his jock body fall on all fours. He rubbed one of his hands over his exposed body, taking in his new looks with pride.

Dillon looked down at his massive cock and a surge of pleasure ran through him as he remembered who he was. He saw himself as a powerful man, a force to be reckoned with and wanted to show off just how much of an Adonis he truly was. He humped the air and could feel his cock throb as he was about to bust his load all over the floor.

It felt like his whole body was on fire as his cock threatened to shoot thick ropes of cum all over his bedroom floor. He felt his orgasm build up as the pressure grew only more intense. He could feel his balls contracting and the tension building up he fell onto his back. He didn't even have to touch his cock as he thyrough his hands behind himself until finally rope after rope of cum splattered across his chest.

He fell limp to the floor, grunting and moaning in his new alpha state. Each of the thick ropes had felt like it could have been a gallon of sperm as they flew from his cock in a stream of hot white liquid. The strong scent filled the room.

He stumbled up to his feet and looked at the mess he made with a dumb broish grin. A look that he never would have been able to make before. He'd managed to get his load all over his chest and he started rubbing it into his chest hair. Not caring that he probably should take a shower.

He was a real man now and knew what he wanted, no needed. He wanted to get back at Marshall and let him know just what he planned on doing to his ass tonight. Force him to take in his new mighty and muscular body. He quickly slipped on a pair of briefs before finding his phone.

Dillon pulled out his phone to call Marshall and when he finally picked up he said in a dumb broish tone "You ready for me dude? I'm going to get my huge cock all up in your tight little ass."

He let out a dumb chuckle and he could tell Marshall was pleased with what he heard.

"I really like the attitude adjustment." Marshall said with an obvious smirk. "you remember where you're meeting me at?"

"Yeah Duddy's motel at 8."

Marshall laughed "I'll see you there soon then, don't be enjoying that big dick to much before I can get to it."

Dillon let out another brainless chuckle and replied with a dumb joke that only a halfwit like himself would find funny. "Well I better hurry before you have to use your hand for jerking off while thinking about me."

Marshall forced out another laugh and then hung up the phone. He didn't need Dillon to exactly be the brightest crayon in the box to have a good one night stand so the crude jokes were fine in his book.

Dillon smirked as he threw his phone on his bed. He clapped his hands proudly to himself and began shooting and hollering like a true bro who had just conquered yet another conquest. He began wondering how long it would take him to get to where his buddy was staying. He then wondered if maybe he had enough time to maybe jack another load before meeting up with him. An alpha like him did have an endless supply of cum filling his ballsack after all.

He picked his phone back up and found the last picture he took of his old pathetic and wimpy body. The body he had only a few mere moments ago. He used to be such a dweeb and now that he was this huge brute of a man it only filled him with more confidence knowing how far he'd come. He was the epitome of masculinity now whose mere presence demanded for other men to submit to him. He'd never been so vain before let alone so crude or arrogant about himself, but with this new body of his, how couldn't he be.

He started rubbing his massive bulge through his briefs as he imagined Marshall's eyes popping out of his head when he saw his new body and even bigger dick. Then again, Marshall had to of known how he turned him from a small twink into this hunk of a man right?

He continued rubbing his cock while looking at his own bare chest and stomach. He rubbed his pecs still feeling his load tangled in his chest hairs. He started to think about his old life. How he always wore his shirt tucked in which only showed off his small and boney frame. Now he just had to show off his six pack abs and toned pecs and that was something he never thought he'd ever have.

He started pumping his cock faster thinking about this and felt himself getting close to shooting another load. He knew he was going to enjoy his new outlook on life and how couldn't he. Sure he may have been as dumb as a box of bricks now but he had the body to make up for it. He was happy with his new outlook on life and who wouldn't be after making such drastic change.

Marshal only changed him for so that he could have a good fuck tonight but that didn't matter to Dillon. With a body like this he'd never have to worry about sex again. It was that thought that pushed him over the edge and shortly after he retrieved some clothes so he could leave and give Marshall the best lay of his life.

mrrharper Masterpost

what's up bros

to make this blog a bit more accessible, this is gonna be an index of all of my stories and other stuff connected with me, neatly divided into themes

everything's under this pic of a hot stud

Jock TF

Todd goes to a gym / Academic requirements / A Son, Reformed / Muscles In Chains / The Rookie's Figuring It Out / Headphones In, Guns Out / Waiting For The Roommate / Mandatory PE Class / A Real Jock's Supposed to Be Dumb /

Jock-focused

Under Armour Jock™ / Coach's Process of Developing a Jock / More Loyal, More American, More The Same / Muscle Memory / Inside A Jock's Mind / Script For A Jock / No-Trade Clause /

Cop/Soldier reprogramming

Programming Adjustment / Law, Order and Musk / Personal Muscle, Uniform Included / A Guard Programmed To Control And Obey /

Gym Bro TF (and adjacent)

Gym Bro / Bro Advice / A Workout Break / This Is How You Recruit Gym Bros / Waking Up Huge And Jocked / Empty Eyes, Pumped Bis

Other stuff

Commissions - I am open for commissions. Want me to write you a story? Check the linked post for all the necessary details

#AMA - you can see all the questions I have answered from previous AMAs under this hashtag

Ko-fi page - you can support me and my work on ko-fi

Geared Up

---

Second original story! Hope you all enjoy it.

Thanks to @mrrharper for providing nice images to use and proofreading!

---

Aaron was never type that would ever consider applying at a security company, much less applying to be someone's personal muscle.

However, the pandemic had struck Aaron quite hard. He was now living on what little he had left in his savings. Needing to pay rent he had already sought out any opportunity to work, but never had any luck. Thanks to the coming of A.I. it seemed his graphic design degree had become nothing more than a literal paperweight now.

In order to make ends meet Aaron he turned the next best option, working at Geared Security Inc.

Geared Security was a new company in town. They were actively looking for new employees meaning he could start quickly if he got through the interview.

Upon second consideration Aaron realized it wasn't a bad deal after all. The pay seemed good, no prior job experience was required, and he would even get a say in how his hours were scheduled.

Aaron decided he needed to take action as soon as possible and rung up the place, scheduling a interview for tomorrow.

---

The following morning Aaron had made his way to the industrial park where Geared was located. The building was a old hangar which seemed to have been renovated recently. It proudly showcased "Geared Security Inc." on large banner plastered on front. As Aaron entered the building, he was surprised to see no one inside. He looked around seeing the brown leather chairs lined up side-by-side in front of the wooden reception desk. Looking at his phone he realized he got there a tad early, still having about 15 minutes before his interview would start.

Despite the amount of job openings the company had he was surprised to see the absence of applicants.

"Better chances for me" Aaron thought to himself.

"I'll be right with you" a baritone voice boomed from the back.

"Ah.. Alright" Aaron replied taken aback by the deepness of the man's voice.

Moments later a large man appeared from the back.

Aaron could not help but notice his massive arms. What's more, the man's traps and neck were equally as developed, visible through any layer of clothing he would be wearing.

"Aaron, am I right?" the absolute unit of a man asked.

"Ah... uh... Yes, sir." Aaron replied, snapping back to reality.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Dan" he said, offering his handshake

As Dan shook hands with Aaron, his biceps could be seen straining against his uniform.

At the same time Aaron, still mesmerized by the hunk in front of him, felt a little zap as they firmly shook hands.

"Alright Aaron, please follow me to the interview room" Dan said, making his way towards to the room located left of the reception.

The layout of the room was simple. A large table accompanied by two chairs placed opposite of each other. Aside from the table, the only other notable thing was the carpet floor and the black door on the right.

"Please, take a seat" Dan said, looking directly Aaron.

As intimidated as Aaron felt by Dan, he also admired the level of confidence he exuded. He always stood tall and proud whenever he interacted with Aaron.

"You're here to apply for security guard, is that correct?"

"Yes, sir." he replied.

Dan scanned Aaron from top to bottom with a stern look as he grabbed the file in front of him and started skimming through Aaron's personal details.

"23 years old... City local... College degree..." Dan murmured to himself as he read more about Aaron.

He sat nervously, unable to read into whatever his interviewer was thinking.

"So Aaron, what made you want to take this job?" He asked.

Aaron realized he might not be the best guy suited for the job since he wasn't a literal wall of muscle unlike most security guards. He was however quite fit always making sure to keep up his running habit even after finishing high school.

"I've always had a knack for justice, plus I'm quite a fast runner since I've done track and field ever since I was in high school." Aaron replied, highlighting his skills.

"Good" Dan replied, nodding in approval of Aaron's athleticism.

The interview continued. As Aaron kept answering Dan's questions, he felt more at ease. He was getting more confident in passing the interview.

"You're hired."

Aaron was ecstatic.

"Before you're formally employed we will have to go over the employee conduct policy and sign some legal papers, okay?" Dan told Aaron.

"Yes, of course, I understand." Aaron answered, relieved at the idea of finally having an income stream again.

Dan shuffled through his stack of papers, finding one filled to the brim with text and bullet points.

He walked around the table, reaching over Aaron's shoulder and placing it in front of him.

Instead of sitting back in his seat, Dan now stood at the door behind Aaron whilst he waited for him to sign it.

In the meanwhile, Dan took the opportunity to read conduct policy out loud.

"As personal muscle employed from Geared Security Inc.," he started.

"You only care about lifting and gaining as much muscle as possible"

"You will be dumb and obedient. You will do anything your employer asks you to"

These requirements caught Aaron by Aaron by surprise. In just one moment he became extremely unsure as to what he was getting himself into.

"Actually, Dan I think I might need a bit more time to think this over..." Aaron started, trying to backpedal on the job offer.

Dan remained quiet as he stood in front of the door they had both used to enter.

Aaron, did not the trust the situation. In a quick judgement he ran towards to the only door that was left unguarded, hoping it would lead him to a possible exit.

He thought it was his best option given that he would not be able to get past the boulder that was Dan.

As Aaron got the door and turned the knob, he once again felt a zap as the turned the handle.

Unlike what he hoped the room wasn't anything close to an exit. Instead, the room in front of him was a small storage closet that was filled with clothes and firearms.

Aaron turned back around, expecting that Dan would've chased after him. However, he just stood there, like a statue, waiting idly.

Then, out of a sudden, vertigo hit Aaron. His vision got shaky, as the ground seem to be coming closer.

"What's-" he tried to say. However, the only words that came out were an unintelligible mess.

In a single moment Aaron had forgotten the situation he was just in.

In fact, he had forgotten it all.

The more he tried to remember, the more he forgot.

When he tried to who he was, or why he was here it became hard to think. His mind felt fogged up.

Any attempt at thinking was hard.

Maybe it was best that he didn't think at all.

Maybe, he should just let the thinking be done for him.

Whilst he tried his earnest to remember, the heat proceeded to only grow stronger.

Aaron felt his normally loose fitting clothes start to heavily strain at its confines. Where a once flat chest was, was now two pair of muscular slabs that started to were pushing his dress shirt to its max.

"Let me help you" a voice called out.

As he looked towards the origin of the sound he was met a sense of calmness.

It felt good to listen to the man.

Aaron just stood there as the man's burly hands made quick work of his dress shirt, ripping it apart.

"At ease, guard" Dan commanded as he moved onto removing Aaron's belt.

"Guard..? Who-" Aaron asked, still struck by confusion.

"Yes, that's you. You're a Geared Security employee, did you forget?" Dan stated.

"Ah.. yes.. I'm a Geared Security guard... Yeah, that's right.." Aaron confirmed, slowly gaining back a sense of his self.

Whilst Aaron was slowly puzzling everything together, Dan had finished undressing him. Much like his dress shirt, his pants had also met a similar fate. In mere moments, Aaron's legs had grown heavily, no longer looking the slim muscular legs meant for running. Instead, legs as wide as tree trunks remained, perfect for subjugating any possible suspects.

"Do you know who you are?" Dan asked.

"Yes of course... My name is... Aaron" he replied pausing in between due to his uncertainty.

"That's not correct is it?" Dan quizzed.

Aaron wasn't sure anymore. What the man said made sense. He knew the man was right.

"Yeah, it isn't..."

"Your name is James. You will be referred to by your designation A501"

A501 realized the man was correct, his superiors always are.

There is no Aaron. There never was.

"You were just getting to work and getting changed right?"

Of course, how could he forget. Like many of his colleagues A501 wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. Luckily he never had to think much. The only thing he had to care about was lifting weights and gaining muscle. His superiors would do the thinking for him.

Not wanting to embarrass his superior any further, A501 quickly went to the storage closet and starting picking out new clothes.

He put on his large size 12 boots. Followed up by a pair of brown cargo pants which he had to stretch outward to be able to get over his large manhood. Next was the belt containing various tools needed for his job like hand cuffs and his company-issued firearm.

A501 finished putting on the rest of his uniform.

His new clothes fit snuggly, highlighting his large biceps and strong legs.

Revitalized with purpose and a sense of self the fog in his mind started to clear.

"A501, time to work" Dan commanded.

"Sir Yes Sir!"

A501 was now a geared up guard, ready for duty.

The office was tense as the news of possible layoffs started circulating around. Mark sighed as he sat back down in his seat, he played around with his phone for a short time but ended up throwing it back on his desk. He sat around, switching between nervously tapping his fingers on his desk or biting his nails as he glanced back intermittently at the door of his manager. Things didn’t get any better when he saw his annoying coworker, Jason, his attire barely “formal” and heading towards him with a big grin.

“You okay Mark? What’s going on?” asked Jason, Mark rolled his eyes, he couldn’t even tell if he came back from his lunch break or if he just turned up to work and the last thing he needed was to deal with some obnoxious jock.

“I’m fine, just worried about all the layoffs going around,” answered Mark, it took everything in him not to glare as he saw Jason grin.

“Aw man that sucks, well you look like you need to relax,” suggested Jason. “I recently started this server for me and a few friends, just to talk and play stuff together. Why don’t you join?” Mark wanted to say something, but he just found himself nodding. It wasn’t like he had much to do after work anyway and he did get a new console but hardly found any excuse to use it as opposed to trying to focus on doing more work from home. “Cool! So what do you play on?”

Mark had a feeling the next hour was going to be hell to get through.

Later on after work, he found himself thankful that he still had a job, but wanting to kick himself for agreeing to play with Jason today. He didn’t even take the time to change out of his clothes, still dressed in his office shirt and suit pants as he sat down and switched on his console, toying around with his console and getting used to the controller once again. He cringed slightly as he saw Jason’s invite appear on screen and he put on the headset before joining, hearing Jason’s voice.

“Hey there bro, how are you doing?” came Jason’s voice, Mark saw that there were a couple others that joined the lobby.

“I’m doing okay Jason, thanks,” replied Mark.

“Hey Jason, who’s this?” came a voice almost as obnoxious sounding as Jason’s. Mark wondered why these people sounded the same and as he tried to introduce himself, he was interrupted.

“Oh hey Scott! This is Mark, he’s a friend from work. Yeah, I recently started going gym with him and thought he should hang out with us here,” said Jason. Mark immediately furrowed his brows. He was a pretty healthy guy but he had never gone to the gym or with Jason. “Isn’t that right Mark?

“Uhh…” Mark started, for some reason he found the right words hard to come by as he suddenly grunted at the feeling of his own shirt starting to feel too tight. His own hand began unbuttoning his office shirt, fanning himself as Mark’s torso began to grow more muscular, beginning to spill out of the shirt and causing some of the last buttons to tear themselves off. Mark blinked, unable to process what was happening and feeling like he was in some sort of dream as he looked down at his torso.

His chest pushed out, his upper chest suddenly developing pecs that bounced as they fell forward after their surge of growth, both his nipples enlarging as blonde hairs began to replace his own darker chest hair. The hairs travelled down forming a treasure trail as Mark felt his lower chest suddenly begin to house a set of picturesque six pack abs.

“You okay there Mark?” asked Scott, as a final tear came about as the last of Mark’s office shirt tore away to allow his much larger body to be free as his back started to stretch as he sat up, causing him to grow taller by every second.

“Yeah uhh I just feel-”

“Oh I’m sure he’s fine, probably just stretching. We even went to the gym today, working on biceps,” interrupted Jason. Each part of his torso seemingly bloated as Jason went on and on about their gym routine and Mark simply shrugged his shoulders as his arms were the next to expand, widening as his hands grew to get a firmer grip on the more familiar feeling controller. It felt as if coming home from work or gym to spend time playing with Jason was the norm as Mark’s growing fingers wrapped around the controller and he only just noticed he was mindlessly playing a game with Jason and his buddies. “How are you feeling Mark?”

I feel weird, Mark wanted to say.

“I’m good man,” replied Mark as he felt one hand coming to his crotch, adjusting it as his bulge began growing in his own pants, beginning to feel his calves and thighs threaten to burst his pants.

“Yeah we’ve been working on his quadriceps and stuff too,” assured Jason, Mark kicked off his shoes, almost drooling as his eyes were glazed over and playing the game with no real focus and no attention to his changing body. As his feet began to grow, Mark began to feel all his focus and passion to work and the office shrinking. He found himself still adjusting on his seat as his legs continued to grow more muscular as he scratched at his blonde facial hair that continued to grow and spread around his chiselled jaw. “Mark do you wanna meet at the gym later?”

As Mark stifled a groan from the feeling of his larger throbbing crotch, he felt his changing face. His nose shrank. his eyes blinked and became blue, no longer needing his glasses which he tossed away and his neck thickened to allow a deeper voice to sound out of his thinner and smaller lips.

“Yeah bro that’d be great,” said Mark. He almost sounded exactly like Jason and his friend Scott now as he looked down at himself. “Give me a minute.” The dedicated office worker was now a more relaxed gym bro and as he stepped away to go change into some clothes when he realised he was almost naked except from some tight fitting underwear.

Nonetheless Mark decided not to wear too much, he enjoyed feeling and being able to look down to see his muscular body, and he couldn’t believe it when he thought that he couldn’t wait to go to the gym to hang out with his bro.

Alpha Orders

--- Originally posted on 2023-08-12 by dumb-and-jocked. ---

“Troy?”

“In here!”

Marco walked into the living room, spotting his roommate lounged out on the couch. Although he didn’t look 22, Troy’s youthful figure was almost completely absorbed by whatever game he was playing. His petite body was tense and focused. He looked like one of those hairless cats ready to spring forward.

“Whatcha playin’?” Marco asked.

“It’s some new game Franklin gave me,” Troy replied. Franklin was also a nerdy type, but while Troy just mostly looked the part, Franklin actually played the part. Glasses, suspenders, kind of a pushover. It was strange that someone could fit a stereotype so perfectly.

“It’s called Alpha Orders.”

“Kinda like ‘Simon Says’?” Troy asked, grabbing a snack from the kitchen. Since college had started, he’d put on a considerable amount of weight. He fit the ex-jock bill pretty well. But his girlfriend didn’t mind. In fact, she remarked about liking the pudge that had started filling in his frame. As long as he shaved, she always joked, he wouldn’t look like a bear.

“Kinda…” Troy mumbled. Marco shoved a handful of Goldfish down his throat and looked over his roommate once more. The shrimp sure was invested. His eyes appeared somewhat glazed over.

“Seeing how much you love it, do you think I should try it once you’re finished?”

It took Troy a moment to respond. Suddenly, Troy’s body pumped up. Almost like a heartbeat, but affecting his entire body as if someone had pushed the lever down on a tire pump. Marco blinked, rationalizing that his eyes were playing tricks on him out of hunger. The loose button-up and straight jeans Troy was wearing didn’t look any tighter. Yeah, he just needed some more Goldfish down the hatch. Marco eagerly complied with the prescription he’d given himself.

“Uh…” Troy started slowly. “You should just…go to Franklin. Get another copy.”

“Oh,” Marco replied flatly. It was a little odd that Troy didn’t want to share with him after he was done. It was usually chill when it came to the roommates swapping stuff between each other. But if Marco was being honest he didn’t really mind taking the short trip. He didn’t have any homework or plans today anyway, so going over to Franklin’s wouldn’t be a bother.

“Sure, not a bad idea,” Marco shrugged, tossing a few more crackers in his mouth. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

Marco had only been to Franklin’s place once or twice to pick Troy up, but he still knew the way to the nerd’s house. Those two looked oddly alike with their small, thin frames and youthful faces. And by how often those two hung out, heck, they could’ve been secretly dating for all he knew. But Marco remembered wingmanning for Troy once. It hadn’t gone particularly well, but Marco did end up with the chick who’d passed Troy off later that night. Luckily, his roommate had never found about the one nighter.

Marco knocked on the door to Franklin’s place. “Franklin? It’s Marco.”

“Yeah,” a rumbling bass replied back, allowing for Marco to open the door. A blast of sweaty musk spilled outwards, causing Marco to stagger. He blinked, hoping to clear his head a little before he entered. He always forgot how pungent the man was, especially in a concentrated place like the apartment.

Sitting back in a recliner was Mr. F, stripped down to just a pair of tiny running shorts. Marco could tell the man was commando underneath the controller–the guy never did try to hide his monster cock. And why should he? He was a total alpha male after all. Tall, well-built, hairy. Had a voice that shook the room and an attitude that shook people’s knees. Including the guy that was at Mr. F’s massive feet, servicing them diligently as Mr. F played his game. Marco didn’t mind though, knowing Mr. F deserved this kind of specialized treatment.

“Mr. F,” Marco started, pacing across the room.

“What do you want?” Mr. F got right to the point. He didn’t even try looking away from the screen.

“I was wondering if I could borrow a copy of that game you gave Troy.” Marco shrugged, not knowing what else to say. “Alpha Orders.”

“Check the kitchen table.”

Marco did as instructed, finding exactly what he was looking for.

“Get me a beer while you’re at it too,” Mr. F commanded. Marco obeyed, not even thinking twice as he snatched a bottle from the fridge and brought it to the man. He didn’t even regard the boy who was currently beside his own feet.

Marco blinked, noticing his apartment door presented in front of him. Wasn’t he just at Mr. F’s place? The game was still in his hand, and everything else looked in order. Except for his watch, which read a full four hours later than when he had arrived at the other man’s residence. But to get to Mr. F’s was only a ten minute drive? Marco didn’t know what had happened, but he had gotten what he wanted. No point in thinking about it much longer.

Marco opened the front door and strolled in, noticing a peculiar thickness to the air. Although he couldn’t see his roommate, some audio from the living room alerted him that Troy was still there. Marco didn’t even bother kicking off his shoes as he strolled into the kitchen and snatched a granola bar. He figured he’d be bunking down in his own room for a bit so as to not disturb his roommate. Being the bigger (much bigger) half of the pair, Marco knew he’d be more of a nuisance than if Troy had been in the same situation.

“Hey dude, still at it…” Marco droned off. On the couch was a man–a real masculine, macho man. He was taller than Marco, larger than Marco, and exuded a more dominant aura than Marco. He was like a crossover between a bodybuilder and a lumberjack, filling out the blue flannel with his solid pecs, thick shoulders, and hairy arms. The jeans were tight around his lower half too, leading all the way to the massive Size 14 feet propped up on the coffee table. And Marco couldn’t believe the size of this man’s junk. He thought the controller lying on top was vibrating, but after a few moments he realized it was the giant lump underneath that was actually throbbing.

“‘Bout time you got here,” the man grunted. He casually itched the massive beard on his face, which was somehow still not enough to hide the lantern jaw hidden within. “I texted you a while ago.”

Marco blinked. “Oh, sorry Mr. T, I-”

“You shouldn’t make me wait,” Mr. T asserted, his gruff tone making him sound older than his 37 years. “I had to stop my game. I was near the end.”

Marco turned towards the screen, noticing that his roommate was already 80% finished with the main task. Whatever that was.

“Mr. T, I’m sorry,” Marco started. “I was at Mr. F’s and lost track of time.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” Mr. T corrected. “Apologize to the lads.”

Marco nodded, getting down on his knees and leaning in towards Mr. T’s feet. Both of them had a pungent funk, but it was more subtle than Mr. F’s. After a quick bow of his head, Marco kissed both of them, expressing his most sincere remorse as to not being there when needed. As the alpha in the apartment, Mr. T naturally needed service regularly. Marco was always happy to oblige, as it was his position on the social ladder. It had nothing to do with sexuality after all. Quite the opposite. Both of the men were ramrod straight, but Mr. T was born to dominate men everywhere but the bedroom.

“Good boy.” Mr. T had yet to look up from his phone once. “Now go off to another room, I will call you when I need you.”

Marco did as he was told, grabbing his things and moving off to his room. He shut the door behind him politely so as to not disturb the other man. He couldn’t believe he screwed up like that, so focused on getting this silly game that he’d been late for his primary role as a good roommate. Marco just hoped it was worth all the hype.

Marco popped the disc into his personal console and kicked back in the couch. He casually readjusted his pouch underneath his sweats, noting the strip of bare skin now visible due to the ballooning of his stomach. He huffed disappointedly, knowing this white shirt was just one of the many that had become victims to his recent…expansion.

“ALPHA ORDERS,” the screen read aggressively. Securing his headphones over his baseball cap, Marco hit the play button. A loading screen appeared next, an arrow creating the same biological gender symbol for male over and over. It would loop in a circle, before jutting off at the last moment to the top right. And then it would start again, and again, and again. Marco just watched on, waiting.

“ALPHA ORDERS…” the screen began, causing Marco to ready his controller. “YOU TO EMBODY AND EXALT THE MULTIFACETED VIRTUES OF MASCULINITY.”

Marco just stared at the screen, not knowing what exactly to do. Was this some kind of puzzle game? Like was he supposed to hit a certain button based off of the prompt given to him? He blinked, unsure of what to do. He already did embody masculinity with his well-muscled frame, the fur underneath his shirt covering it, and his aura of testosterone. And he exalted it alright, making sure to display his masculinity at all times. Although this white shirt wasn’t doing his stacked abs any justice.

A little ping sounded from the screen as he moved onto the second task. Marco didn’t know how the game had registered something, but he couldn’t help if even technology could sense his manliness.

“ALPHA ORDERS…YOU TO RESIDE AT THE TOP OF THE HIERARCHY AND ESTABLISH OTHERS’ PLACE BENEATH IT.”

Marco blinked, making sure to fondle his hefty pouch generously. Oh yeah, he knew what kind of power he had. Pussies practically called to him and his 9-incher. Marco was a predator, always on the winning team. Getting serviced whenever he wanted was guaranteed to him. There was a reason people called him “Mr. M”, “Sir”, or even “Master.” He wasn’t toxic; Marco was in-toxic-ating. Any alpha man was. Everyone loves an arrogant douchebag because they knew their place. His dick was begging for attention beneath his sweats, and going commando made it easy for Marco to give it a quick tug.

“ALPHA ORDERS…YOU TO FOLLOW PRIMAL INSTINCT–BRAIN IS FOR BETA, MANHOOD IS FOR MAN.”

Marco rubbed his eyes, having to read the stupidity of that last part again. He thought it was stupid, but after blinking he recognized its truth. Yeah he was led by his pussystuffer! What was he supposed to do? Listen to his head? Marco knew that was useless. Learning was for nerds, and school was for…ultra nerds. He wasn’t a loser! His dick led him wherever he needed to go. Gotta get some cash? Find someone to give it to him with his cock. Hungry? Someone will feed him food while he feeds them with his own personal sausage. Need a blowjob? That will come from any chick around no questions asked.

“ALPHA ORDERS…YOU TO PRODUCE AN AURA THAT INSPIRES LOYALTY AND SUBMISSION.”

Marco blinked, taking in a whiff of his own body odor while doing so. He twitched a little, noting a little bit of heat at the end that made his musk all the more enticing. Marco stunk up everywhere he went; deodorants just couldn’t mask his manly aroma. It wasn’t a crime to smell like an ALPHA! Marco’s natural, masculine scent just put those other betas to shame. With damp, bushy pits and Size 13 stompers, it was practically Marco’s destiny to have an ever present, robust malodorous cloud.

Marco’s eyes briefly moved up to the top of the screen, noting his task bar was at 80%. It was right where his roommate had stopped earlier. He hoped that meant he was close. He needed someone to worship him NOW!

“ALPHA ORDERS…” the screen read. Marco blinked, noticing the screen was taking a longer time than usual to display its next command. He blinked again, bringing a hand down to his crotch. Marco couldn’t believe it, blinking again. He began furiously groping himself, bringing himself to the edge as he waited. What was the final order? What was he supposed to do? Marco blinked, feeling a rush spiral down his spine right into his cannon. What did Alpha Order?

“YOU TO BE FULLY HOMOSEXUAL TO COMPLETELY DOMINATE OTHER MEN BY MIND, BODY, AND ACTION.”

Marco’s mouth dropped. Was this game serious? How was he supposed to accomplish this task? It wasn’t like he could just suddenly go gay. Sure, he knew when another man was handsome or good looking, but he had never swung that way. Marco knew other guys servicing him came off as strange sometimes–even his girlfriend had questioned him on it once or twice–but that was just to display his authority. But he never found it erotic! It just wasn’t his thing. Marco blinked, simply not understanding what to do.

Because he was already the gayest guy he knew around. He loved men and boys. There was nothing that made him happier than dumping a dude on the ground and ripping them open. He adored the way they treated his body like the temple it was. The way they worshiped him like the god he was. Men were the best at pleasuring other men, so it only made sense an alpha like him was gay. Frank, Troy, Marco; they all understood the best way to be at the top of the ladder was to put other men in their places beneath them, whether it be sucking on his cock or his toes.

“Yo, Marco!” Troy announced as he entered the room. “I got some boys rolling over here in 10. I will let you claim dibs on which part you want to serv…”

Troy stopped, observing the jockish man staring at the screen in front of him.

Troy blinked, registering his fellow alpha had just finished whatever game he had been playing.

“What did you say?” Marco’s voice had a cocky, sultry air to it.

“I said I got some boys rolling over here in 10.” Troy rolled his eyes. “I will let you claim dibs on one of them if you need to be serviced right now.”

Without moving his eyes off the screen, Marco shut down his console and scratched his ball sack.

“Bro, alphas like us always need to be serviced.”

Can u do like one with a dorky geek being forced against his will to be turned into a jock and become like the star quarterback for the team like me

“You see, the problem with modern society is that, suddenly, all the emphasis has shifted from physicality and physical endeavours to cerebral enterprises and the furtherance of technology.  Societally speaking, that can only lead to a slow downfall of everything we, the human race, have ever built.  We have to get back to basics!”  On each word of the last sentence, the man banged the meat of his palm on the desk in front of him, emphasizing each point.  His gaze, however, never wavered from the array of students sitting in front of him.  His eyes swept the room, as if daring anyone to disagree with him.  He held the menace in his teeth, playing the silence out, and suddenly relaxed, shifting entirely into another mode, that of easy-going, affable Coach.  “But the pendulum swings, boys, the pendulum always swings.  One extreme to the other, and boy, when it comes,” he chuckled, swaying his head and clicking his tongue, “it’s gonna come hard.” 

The bell sang its saw-song through the air, jarring everyone from their respective trances.  Matthew snorted, turning to his friend.  “Are you kidding me?  One logical fallacy after another.  And that pseudo-social science he was spouting?  Did you even hear that?  Why did we even have him in class today?  What was that supposed to teach us?”

Sanjay shook his head.  “Which one do you want me to answer first?”

“Any.  None.  It doesn’t matter.  Just doesn’t make any sense.  Why have the coach of the football team lecture us on how intelligence and critical thought and technological know-how is actually, you know, in disguise, the downfall of human civilization!  Oh, yeah, let’s prize barbarity and tout physical achievement as opposed to …”

Honestly, Sanjay tuned him out.  Sure, Matthew was his friend.  Yeah, he was smart.  Probably one of the smartest kids in the school, but he had a demanding, needy persona that was just sometimes hard to bear.  He could be arrogant, almost preening, constantly displaying his prodigious vocabulary and scorning anyone who didn’t reach his impossible standards.  Still, better to have him on your side, Sanjay reasoned, than not.

“So, yeah.”  Matthew tossed his hair back from his eyes.  He’d been letting it grow long, some rebellion thing.  “Wanna watch foreign films tonight?”

“Uh,” God, again?  He had a passion for subtitles that bordered on the pathological.  Sometimes, he’d even quote the French when the appropriate time arrived.  “I can’t, tonight.  Family … thing.”

“Oh.  Okay.  Well, a toût a l’heure, mon ami!”

“Seeya,” Sanjay moved off into the hallway throng.  “Weirdo.”

o

The faint, overlapping sound of calls and cries, short and shouted, that echoed from the field.  Some grunting.  Matthew hated that, in order to walk home, he had to follow the small sidewalk around the back side of the school and around a fairly large chunk of the football field.  He usually had his earbuds in, and today was no exception, with Einstürzende Neubaten playing (and only because of the name) in his ears.  He tapped his hands idly against his thighs as he walked, tapping out a badly-timed beat to the song he was listening to.  His eyes he kept firmly fixed ahead.  He refused to look at the game in progress, or the training, or whatever.  Can’t deny that his eyes did flick to the left, but he didn’t turn his head, so that doesn’t count.  Or so he reasoned.

Out of all the sports, Matthew hated football the worst.  He could make concessions for “real” football, or soccer, if he was pressed, but American football, the NFL, all of it, just left a bad taste in his mouth.  Stupid celebrity body-glorifying inane banal moronic and, on one occasion, mentally retarded, were all words that came out of his mouth whenever confronted with the topic.  Team sports on a whole repelled him: the whole notion of conforming to a set, of being reduced to a function, caused him to shiver way down deep inside his skinny body.  He was furiously proud of his body, liked that he could slip in and out of places unnoticed.  He wore mostly blacks and grays for the same reason.

Of course, he was bullied.  What kid isn’t?  Matthew is no idiot.  He’s read books, seen movies, he knows.  The bully does it because the bully feels like he’s inferior in some way, is over-compensating.  Yeah, he knows the “why,” but the “what” keeps happening.  Physical threats.  He’s been tripped, kicked, spat at.  He does not let himself break to the bullies.  He knows that he is superior to them, and one day, they’ll be pumping his gas.  The knowledge of this certain future is enough to glaze and harden the sneer on his face whenever he runs into them.  

He looked up just in time, swerving to miss the outstretched hands of one of his classmates.  He didn’t even have time to notice which one it was.  All he saw was a wide grin and the palms of the hands, and the world yawed above him, sky to treetops to treetrunks to dead leaves on the ground, and he was falling, poorly, ungainly and akimbo, ass over teakettle, and rolling, crashing through various underbrush, skinning his palms on ill-placed rocks, the world became a splatter of color on a palette, and then turned to gray fuzz as he came to a halt.

“Whoa, kid, kid, holy fucking …”  Someone had rushed to his side, but Matthew couldn’t tell who it was.  His eyes were unfocused, his ears were slamming loud carillons of hiss and bells, he throbbed, nearly all over.  He thought, well, nothing’s broken, and remembered relief.  He cracked his mouth and a strange noise flopped out, like a broken bassoon.  “Are you OK?  Did you just fall?”

“Stupid … question,” Matthew said, and passed out.

o

He woke up at home.  In his own bed.  His posters on the wall, his strange Russian propaganda posters, his vintage movie posters.  He still throbs all over.  That part wasn’t a dream.  This is, however, that weird murky space between waking up and really waking up.  Surfacing, sort of, through the shallows.  He remembered … falling.  He remembered … being pushed!  His head is like an anvil factory.  Jabs of clanging pain twinned to his heartbeat.  He groaned, and ground his hand, hard, into his left eye.  The pain did not abate.  He rolled over, the sheets followed, and he untangled himself, with some amount of confusion.  There was a slightly heavy … slightly wet smell in the air, almost as if someone drenched in cologne had been there recently.  It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, Matthew thought murkily, then shook his head violently.  No!  It was awful!  It smelled like a locker room.  How the fuck did he get home?  He reached for his phone, which was where he always kept it, on the night stand next to his bed.  He thumbed it open.  No missed calls.  No new text messages.  The time was 10:30pm., on whatever day.  He idly thought he might have amnesia.  It was dark, and he could hear the crickets sawing feverishly away outside his window.  He felt a stab of hunger, and slowly swung his legs out of bed. 

The anodyne glow of the big-screen television was near-blinding as Matthew limped down the stairs.  Weird, he thought.  No one in this house is usually awake at this hour.  He moved closer to inspect.  No one on the couch.  Not a sign that anyone had been there, actually.  It was all very Roanoke.  He half-expected to find “CROATOAN” carved into the coffee table.  It gave him a little, dull chill.  As he moved closer, the sound of the television grew louder, and the picture seemed to clear, resolving from white noise to figures, moving back and forth on the screen.  The white noise resolved into the sound of … an audience?  Matthew squinted at the screen, came even closer, outstretched a finger to prod at its surface, delicately.  Then he backed up, shaking his head, chortling.  “C’mon,” he said out loud, the sound of his voice flat in the living room.  “Don’t be a moron.” 

It was a game on the television.  A football game.  NFL, from the looks of it.  Uniforms … orange and white and orange and black.  The, uh … Broncos and the Browns.  Right.  That’s a lot of orange.  I didn’t even know we got this channel.  What channel?  Oh, ESPN, right.  The football’s pretty fucking elusive, doesn’t seem like anyone can get a handle on - oh, there we go.  That guy’s running.  He’s got the ball.  Feels like something’s going to happen.  Oh, hey, this guy’s coming out of the, no, no, he’s gonna make it he’s - oh.  Nope.  That guy jumped on top of him and he wasn’t close to the end zone.

Matthew felt a strange sense of disappointment, almost deflation.  He cracked his neck to one side and frowned a little.  The players were reassembling.  Some of them look kinda goofy.  The uniforms are kinda cool.  I mean, sorta.  It’s like armor, or something.  Representing … uh, like, houses, or … hey, they’re playing again. 

He found his muscles tightening, his hands forming into fists, as the football was snapped into play.  His eyes watched it as it described its arc over the field, soaring, spiralling, toward the eager and outstretched hands of – and

“INTERCEPTION!” 

Matthew snapped back to himself with all the force of a comet smashing into Siberia.  He blinked, blinked again, and then shook his head.  Was that something rattling around up there?  Jesus, he must’ve hit hard.  He should get some more sleep.  Was he just watching football? 

And … was there a moment there, just a moment, where he … kinda enjoyed it?

o

“Day 2,” Sanjay mimed a gun at his temple, lazing back in his chair.  The windows were open, and a light breeze sashayed in.  “Seriously, though?  Mandated physical education in the form of indoctrination?  Not sure that’s what they had in mind, but … hey, it’s gettin me out of class, right?”

“Yeah,” Matthew mumbled.  He was still kind of out of it, bruised up and scraped pretty badly, but with no lasting injuries.  “Sorry,” he said.  “I must’ve really rattled my brains in that fall.  Shit…”  He dropped his pencil and fumbled around under the desk for it.  “I’ve been so clumsy, today, too…”

“Maybe you got a concussion or something, man.  You should check in with the nurse.”

“Naw, it’s … I slept, last night, so, I don’t think it’s a, uh, you know.  That.  Man, this headache.  I keep taking all this aspirin.”  He shook out a pill from a plain white bottle.  “Don’t know if it’s actually helping, or what.”

Sanjay cocked his head at his friend and shrugged.  “Suit yourself.  Your funeral.  And I wouldn’t take so much advil, man.  Five, at the most.”

The door to the room slammed shut, and the coach walked in.  He never wore street clothes, or, if he did, his street clothes were the same as his regular clothes: basketball shorts and t-shirt, sneakers and socks.  He was a younger man, probably in his early 30s, with a corded, muscular body and a commanding presence lightened only by an aloof affability.  “Welcome back,” he said, and the room immediately quieted.  His eyes swept the room again, much in the same manner as before, as if surveying a course of meats.  “I - “ he stopped as his eyes fell on Matthew.  “Matt,” he said.  “Hope you’re feeling better.“

“It’s Matthew,” he said clearly.  “And yeah, I’m fine.  No thanks to the guy who shoved me.  And I will find out who that is,” he added venomously.  “And when I do, you can be sure I’ll be taking it to the proper author - uh - “

The coach seemed expectant, then shook his head and continued.  “Well, recent drama aside.  We’re here today to talk about the benefits of fitness, and how being physically fit is important in all ways, and, in some ways, how it is the most important.  Your brain won’t function if your body isn’t fed, right?  And we feed our bodies by giving it nutrition and exercising it just like we would a machine.  Sometimes … those machines need a tune-up.  I bet most of you here need a tune-up or two.”

“Not me, Coach!’  Brody piped up.  Matthew’s eyes skated over to him.  He was the QB.  He was just over six-foot and weighed twice what Matthew did.  He sat in his desk and possessed it of a gawky adolescent superiority.  His voice was deep and his face was shadowed around 5 o’clock.  “I’m runnin’ on all cylinders.”  He lifted his arms and flexed.  Most of the class groaned, some of the girls looked sideways, and a paper ball or two was tossed.

“Yeah, well, simmer down there, Bro.  It is true, Brody is at his peak physical form for his body type and his age.  That’s something you can all aspire to.”

Matthew felt dizzy.  The top of his scalp itched.  His throat itched, felt swollen.  He glanced at the back of his hand.  He watched it detachedly as it rose of its own accord, sleepily at first, then erect as a flagpole, fingers straight, unmoving.  “Yes, uh, Matthew?”

His words sounded, to his own ears, as if they had been dredged out of him.  “How do we .. uh, do that?”

The coach stared at him for a minute, inscrutably.  “Good question, Matt.”  Matthew let the name go, almost like a bullet in slow motion past his ear, creating auditory ripples in through his ear and passing through his brain - “Well, we can work out, we can play a sport and join a team - shameless plug, football team still needs some good bodies, signup sheet’s outside the door - but there’s lots of different ways to achieve your physical potential.

“You really don’t look so good,” Sanjay commented.  “And what was that all about?”

“Nothin,” Matthew said.  He felt drunk.  “I, uh, it’s fine.” 

The class continued, and Matthew sat there, silently, eyes fixed ahead.  The buzz and pound in his head continued.  It was almost as if the dream he’d had about watching football on the television was still playing, projected on the inside wall of his skull, and he was hearing it from far away.

o

The bell announced in its shrill, strident way, the end of class.  Matthew filed out with the rest, past the coach as he was erasing the whiteboard.  “Matt,” he heard, and he stopped.  “I just wanted to … are you OK?”

“Yeah,” he heard himself say.  “I’m good.”

“Well, you had a nasty spill.  You said someone pushed you.  You hit your head and you scraped yourself up, but nothing was broken.  We used your phone and called your roommate and they came and picked you up.”

“Oh,” Matthew said.  “It’s Matthew, you know.”

“What?”

“You keep, uh, callin me Matt.”

“Well, I guess it’s just easier.  Just a nickname.  What’s so wrong with Matt?”

“It’s, uh.  It’s not my, uh.  Yeah.  Whatever.  Look, I - “

“Want to sign up for the football team.”

“… Huh?”

“I’m joking.  What’s up?”

“I, that question I asked.  Maybe I should, you know.  Work out.  So I don’t, you know, ‘fall,’ anymore.”

“Hey, Matt, that’s a great idea!  Not to mention it’ll really help build up your confidence.  Who couldn’t use some of that, huh?”

“Right,” he agreed, a little uncertain why.  A weird molten surge of … something, was starting to heat up in his stomach.  “Yeah.”

The coach dropped his big hand on Matthew’s shoulder and grinned.  “I’m so glad you want to do this, Matt.  I really think it’ll do you wonders.  How about I take you down to the gym for your free period and show you the ropes?”

“My - how did you know I have a, next?  I didn’t -”

“I get all your schedules.  C’mon, I’ll show you and I promise, you won’t be able to stop once you start.  It really is addicting.”

“Yeah, right,” Matthew mumbled, but was already being ushered to follow by the coach’s arm and hand.  Before he knew it, they were walking down the hallway, out through into the dazzling sunlight, and then back inside via two metal doors with arrowslit-like windows, metal wiring.  The gym.  The echoes began almost immediately.  Basketball sneakers against the floor with their skreek skreeking, rubber on lacquer.  The clang and repeated thud of weights against racks.  A pumping soundtrack, fading in and out. 

“You’ll be right at home,” the coach said.  “Trust me.”

I doubt it, thought Matthew, but Matt’s face was grinning, and Matt’s mouth was saying, “Awesome, Coach.”

o

“So, how’s the recruiting stage going?”

“Great.  Aspirin was a great way to hide it.  No one knows.”

“And after a minor, accidental, spill, pain relief … is somewhat necessary, wouldn’t you say?”

“Brody is a good QB.  He’ll do whatever I tell him to, even if it does include a little … hooliganism. ”

“How about your white whale?”

“Oh, Matt’s doing amazing.  You know, you wouldn’t believe it, but the kid’s twice his size.  We’ll have him on the football team for this coming season, and he’s gonna make a hell of a QB after Brody graduates.  Isn’t even a trace left of who he was.”

“We want to thank you for allowing us to test our new drug out on your student body, as it were, Coach.”

“Well, I understand the need for a return to the fundamentals of society.  If that comes at the expense of some brain cells, well, so be it.”

“Quite right.  Excellent work.  I assume you’ll be having another winning season?”

“Year after year.  Year after year.”