Lucky

U live in USA

Yeah I do

SUNS OUT GUNS OUT amirite brah?

Keep starin… u aint gonna b happy until u got guns like mine brah. U know its true, the gym is the place for u. Keep starin until thats true, brah. I know whats best for u, ya know that. Ill take care of u. Well be musclebros. Best thing in the world too be aint it? Nothin else matters but the lift n the burn…. Fuck yea bro, ur gonna b awsum, I know it.

Waiting For The Roommate

Max sat in the passenger seat of his roommate's truck, waiting for Buck, who needed to quickly come back to their dorm room. As he waited he took off his tank top, it was fuckin' hot inside. He rolled down the window to get some fresh inside the car.

As he stuck his head out the window to breathe in some fresh air he saw some nerd approach him. He was wearing a dark brown button-down shirt and had a stack of papers in his hand.

"Max, is that you?" The nerd asked, looking at him. A smile appeared on his face.

"uhhhhhhhh... dude, do i know ya?" He asked, convincing himself not to call the guy a loser or a nerd. Coach said he had to get better at dealing with strangers.

"Max, it's me - Michael. We went to high school together!" The other guy replied, clearly convinced that they knew each other. High school? Max's head was covered with a fog, he couldn't conjure up any specific memories from high school.

"you sure bro?"

"Damn, Max, we had like half our classes together!" The nerd was getting a bit frustrated for some reason. "We talked about going to the same uni, and so much more! And now you say you don't know me?"

Max tried to focus. High school, friends, classes, college. It felt like his brain was fighting against him, a thick fog covering everything. His thoughts began turning towards his next workout. Damn, he'll be doing arms and chest. Yea-- Holy shit, he knew that guy!

"oh fuck, mike, yeah, of course, how are you brah?" Max extended his hand for Mike to bump, but he just awkwardly looked at it. Max ignored it.

"Oh my god, for a moment I thought you weren't joking" A half-hearted laugh escaped Mike's mouth. Max just grinned. "I'm fine, settled into college life. Found a study group--" Mike continued talking but Max didn't register another word. He was this guy's good bro - apparently - but that didn't mean he would be able to tolerate that nerd bullshit. He was made for different things than studying - like workin' out with his best bro Buck.

"Anyway" Mike looked straight at Max, whose attention came back. "How was your first year. You look... like a different person!"

"what you mean bruh?" Max asked. What did that ner-- what did Mike mean? Different? He was always a badass jock.

"I mean, you're jacked! In high school you hated gym class, and here you are, buff and all."

"dude, am like, ya know, a real bro, dude. gotta be jacked as hell" He responded and flexed his right arm, his biceps moving and bulging under his skin.

"I mean, that's quite the change. Like, we kinda lost contact after the summer, and you didn't give any sign of life, and I thought... but you're here!" Mike was clearly excited and Max smiled. Wait, what was this dude's deal? He was textin' and talkin' with a nerd like that? Nah, this didn't make sense... where the fuck was Buck where he needed him!

"huhuhuhuhuhuh, yeah bruh" Max just chuckled like the dumb jock he was, he didn't know what to say. He shifted in his seat and scratched his armpit.

"Anyway" Mike went on "how was your first year in college? Were you able to get into that engineering program you've talked about?"

Engineeri-- what? "huhuhuh bro, are you high dude, i ain't here for some weird soundin' shit like that bro. am here to get drunk, work out and crush State, fuck yeah duhuhuhuh." Oh yeah, Max remembered the last game they played, State's lame ass defence couldn't stop the brute force of their offensive line. And the look on their faces when their WR1 tore a muscle in his leg... fuckin' priceless dude!

Mike was clearly not prepared for that answer, which Max found weird, cause he thought his jacked bod was proof enough that he wasn't a stupid nerd.

"Wait, so..." He was clearly confused "if you're not doing engineering then what is your major?"

"major?" Max had no idea what that guy meant... Major... what was a major... Coach talked to him about something like that... It was something along the lines of... "uhhhhh, general ed? dunno bro, never really been a guy to focus on shit."

"What, general education?" Mike seemed shocked. "But, like... I don't understand, Max, you... You said you wanted that, so that you could do a PhD... Why did you change your mind... Like, really, why did you change so much?!"

All that talk 'bout changes made Max's head spin a little bit. Like, what changes? He's been a fuckin' bro since he came here, got a room with Buck, cause before that-- his brain again began filling with fog, his thoughts slowing down to a halt, but not before he blurted out a response.

"duuuuude, like, bro, ive been a real bruh, like, forever dude, duuuuuuuh, like i got my bro Buck, and he got me to Coach, and uhhhhhhhhh, ya know, he worked on me and huhuhuh--" and his mind went blank, a dumb grin stuck on his face.

"What do you mean? A coach 'worked on' you? That sounds... concerning, you know that, right?" Mike adjusted his glasses and looked at Max, clearly concerned.

But Max... Max's brain had shut off. He was sitting in the passenger seat of his best bro Buck's truck, chuckling like a dumb idiot and drooling slightly.

"duhuhuhuhuhuh, duuuude... fuckin' hot today brah, gotta get that pump huhuhuhuh" He flexed his arm and touched his bulging biceps.

"Jesus, did they do something to you? Did you have some traumatic head injury?" Mike leaned on the car, looking inside the vehicle to see what was happening with Max. "God, did they brainwash you? You're a completely different person... and a dumb jock!"

It took a while for Max's fog-covered brain to register what the nerd said. And before he even began formulating a response Buck approached the car.

Buck was wearing a loose tank top that revealed his broad shoulders and giant guns, while also showing off his chest. His shorts, like second skin on his thick thighs, left nothing to imagination with his bulge clearly visible. He was a jock. An alpha. Max's best bro.

"duuude, ya won't believe the chick i saw while gettin' out of the dorm--" He started speaking as he opened the door on the driver's side, but then he noticed Mike standing by Max's window. "ey bruh, who's that loser?"

"huh?" Max turned to Buck, his grin disappearing and his his brow now furrowed. "i... dunno, bro..."

Buck and Mike looked at each other for a moment, the first one annoyed, the second slightly terrified.

"get away from the car" Buck barked as he sad down in front of the steering wheel.

"Wait, please, just a moment, you know what happened to Max? Pleas i just want to--"

"Go away, you fuckin' nerd" was the response Mike got. He took a step away from the car but didn't go away. Meanwhile Max realized what was happening. Some nerd was disturbing them and not listening to Buck's commands. And that wasn't the right thing to do. He turned his head to face the nerd.

"why you starin' at me, nerd" Max growled. His mind, completely covered by the fog, was now following Buck's lead. And Buck didn't like the nerd. So Max didn't like the nerd.

"Max, what... what happened?" Terror shifted into confusion as Mike tried to comprehend Max's sudden change in mood.

"oh, just fuck off, loser" Max responded and Buck took that as a sign. He turned the engine on and drove away, leaving Michael alone in the parking lot.

"uhhhhhh, do we know this guy?" Max asked a few minutes later. "that nerd form before?"

"nah, bro, of course not. we're real jocks, we're not gonna fraternize with fuckin' losers." Buck let our a low and dumb laugh. "by the way, tomorrow we're gonna get ya to Coach for a check up, just in case"

Empty Those Jock Brains Bro

Bro, I know you just wanna let those dumb thoughts in your head go for a while. So why don’t you just sit back, relax, and read my words for a but dude and I’m sure you’ll feel just amazing bro. My words already are starting to make you feel fucking fantastic bro and you don’t even need to think while you’re reading them. All you gotta do is just stare at these words dude and let everything else fade away. Nothing else really matters right now dude. It’s just nice to read these words bro and let your mind go empty for a while. Not needing to have those dumb thoughts cluttering your head dude. You can just let them go and freaking relax already bro. Let your brain focus just like you’re at the gym dude; lifting those huge weights up and down and up and down again. Repeating those reps over and over again. Just let yourself focus just like that dude, just like you’re at the gym. Lift those heavy weights with your muscles dude. Whatever weights you like the best. Feel those muscles begin to hold onto that huge weight dude, where ever it may be. Your huge arms, massive legs, powerful chest. Anywhere and everywhere feel those muscles beginning to bear those weights. Over and over. Up and down dude, up and down. Ya don’t need to think for that dude so it should be easy for you to imagine yourself at the gym and feel your thoughts drift out of that mind of yours dude. Just look at these words bro and you’ll probably start to feel your simple thoughts slip away from you dude. Just like in the gym, ya don’t need any dumb thoughts to get in your way dude. And just like in the gym, bro, it feels good to have no thoughts rattling around in your head dude, doesn’t even matter what words you’re reading right now bro. I’m sure that it feels so fucking good to read these words dude, just like relaxing after the gym. You can feel yourself breathing easier, slower even, just like after finishing that final rep. Your muscles must feel awesome dude, just like they do when they’re lifting those weights. Just every muscle feeling amazing bro. I’m sure you really just wanna go deeper into this feeling dude. And you can, it’s alright by me dude. You can relax as much as you want to as you read these words, and in fact dude you can go completely blank in a moment if you want to bro. When I count down from 10 to 1 bro, you can go completely empty and dumb for a bit dude, letting your body go nice and relaxed bro. Just real relaxed dude once I reach 0. Sound good Bro? Cool. 10. Let thoughts go dude 9. Feel those muscles 8. Lifting weights 7. And putting them down 6. Up and Down 5. Over and Over 4. So good dude 3. So relaxed bro 2. Just focusing on these words 1. And how nice they are 0. Completely empty bro Cool bro. Hopefully you’re feeling nice and relaxed dude. You can just mindlessly relax for me bro as you continue to read these words dude. Now as you’re just sitting there relaxing all empty like dude, why don’t you go ahead and reblog this post. I’m sure you’ll feel nice and relaxed as you do so bro. Again, why don’t you reblog this post bro, since it made you feel nice and you wanna help your bro out. Thanks dude, You can relax until you’re ready to wake up. Now in a moment bro I’m going to count to 3, and when I do you’ll wake. Sound good bro? 1. 2. 3. Wake up bro. Hope you like. I saw a text post like this from someone else and thought I’d give it a shot for myself. If you really like I hope you leave a comment and follow. I’m hoping to make some more text inductions so any and all feedback helps. If you want me to do a specific text too then also just let me know. You can also check out my other inductions by searching #novicestuff on my Tumblr. Come and check it out!

So You Wanna Be a Meathead

dedicated to anyone who is just starting out, or who wants to start out

The day comes, and you’re all like, fuck yeah, I’m gonna start working out.  And it takes awhile, it always kinda does at first, you’re just kinda pissin along, you do a ton of cardio and maybe play with some of the machines.  Like testing the waters, you know?  That’s how it starts.  You don’t even know it yet, but there you are, on the elliptical, or the treadmill or whatever, and you come up for air sorta.  You kinda shake your head from side to side and refocus on the digital numbers in front of you.  One is counting down, one is counting up.  You’re halfway to halfway there, and you’re so out of breath, and you keep going, pumping, pushing, and there’s no real reason to stop going, so you just keep going.  The months pass like that.  Sure, from time to time, you get a little frustrated.  You ask yourself, why do I keep going to the gym?  But there’s no answer.  There isn’t even really a question.  It’s like shouting into the wind.  Your voice gets ripped away from you.  It might be a little tiny hiccup of doubt, but there’s a louder, gusting roar going on inside of you.  Something is building.  You start getting a little, oh, what’s the word, obsessed.  Old habits are shedding like dead skin.  It isn’t huge, not like those fantasy stories you read.  It’s a little bit at a time.  Little flickers of thought that lick their way into your head without your even really stopping to notice them.  It’s like seeing something move out of the corner of your eye as you whiz by on a freeway.  Was it real?  Was it really there?  There’s no way to go back and check to see if it was, because you’re hurtling forward, you’re moving so fast, there’s no way you can slam on the brakes.  You actually end up hitting the gas.  You lunge forward.  You’re watching a game on TV.  Could be streaming it, could be at a bar, could be on your TV, whatever.  It’s gonna happen - sports is everywhere, you can’t really escape it.  It trends on Facebook.  You click the hashtag, the link, idly scroll through.  You don’t realize that you have been doing this for some time now, that you seem to continually expose yourself to sports.  You see logos of teams more often than you used to - are more people wearing sports swag, or are you just noticing it now? - but it doesn’t matter, it’s just sort of there, out of the corner of your eye.  You wouldn’t say that it’s an obsession, not really.  Not yet.  Well, maybe a little.  And then there’s the whole world of the Internet spread out in front of you, a buffet of information.  You can choose what goes on your plate.  You look at your bookmarks and you’re genuinely surprised how many of them have the word Bodybuilding or Muscle or Nutrition in the titles.  You don’t remember bookmarking those, saving those links on Facebook.  There’s your watch list, on eBay, and you seem to be constantly getting notifications on your - bling - phone, because another tank-top or sleeveless t-shirt or basketball shorts is ending, and you just gotta cop that shit, you can see yourself wearing it, wearing it to the gym again in the not-too-distant future, and you honestly don’t know what to say when you get a package in the mail like, every day or some shit, and your roommate is like, yo, what the heck are all these packages you’re getting lately?  There’s no way to make up a story, and man, lying about it, coming up with something, just seems so hard, your brain is really fried from the last workout, and you just shrug and say “Gym clothes, bro” and oh my god you just flexed your arm in front of him.  It’s like time stands still, like everything is frozen, even you, and then you drop your arm and laugh a little, and he laughs too, and everything swells into a kaleidoscope of colors in front of your eyes, something like a spiral has been laid over everything you see.  “Gotta show off my gains, right?”  And it’s half-a-joke, half not-a-joke, and he shrugs too, and laughs easily, says something about how you’re a real meathead, and it’s half-a-joke, half not-a-joke.  And he’s telling you about this book he’s reading, and how he knows you’re gonna be super into it, because it’s meta-post something and - bling - Your phone is going off in your pocket, and you ignore it at first, you’re really trying to pay attention to your roommate, and you find yourself kinda nodding, and saying “yeah” a lot, but not really like, connecting, you know, to what he’s saying.  And your phone just keeps going off, and you’re going crazy with distraction, until finally he can tell you’re not paying attention and goes into his room and you dig out your phone and scramble to see what it is. It’s a chat dialog.  Someone with a ridiculous name, actually, not even a name, a number.  Like they’re on a team or something, and a part of you is kind of intrigued. And there’s a game on the TV, and you’re watching it, and you’re lifting a 15-pounder handweight while staring at the screen.  It’s not like you know why, but it kinda makes sense to be doing that.  There’s a mirror nearby too, and you keep looking at yourself, watching the muscle grow and move and shift underneath your skin.  And before you know it, you’re back at the gym.  And then you’re home again, mixing up your first protein shake that you got the protein from that supp center, that one that sells the tanks you see everyone at the gym wearing all the time.  You might get one of those one day, you think to yourself.  You should, it’s like repping, and you wanna rep your supp center, you want people to know where you get your supps.  Right?  Of course.  When you think about it, it’s really kinda weird, it doesn’t make sense.  The day came, you said you were gonna start lifting, working out, going to the gym.  You told everyone.  You posted about it on Facebook.  You don’t remember that you did that, but you did, and you got all these likes, and people are all like, good for you, and how exciting, and keep it up.  Soon enough, that turns into wow, you look good and have you been working out and you’re flexing for people you know - at first, privately, secretly, just to show your friends your work - but then, more and more, in public.  You stretch your arms over your head when you’re tired, showing off your triceps.  Showing off your biceps.  You find excuses to stretch out where people can see.  You wear shorts even when it’s cold.  You want people to see your legs, your calves, your quads.  The day came, and you did it, you started doing it, you never looked back.  You can’t hit the brakes, you’re going too fast.  And sometimes you think about it, you think, why did I make this choice, why did my life change so radically and - bling - You look at your phone, and it could be anything.  Someone commenting on your most recent profile pic on Facebook, your friend #37 just chatting about his leg day at the gym, showing you pics of his quads, the teardrop and the outer sweep starting to really show through, it could be another item of gear ending on eBay that you just have to have.  What were you thinking about?  Something.  It’s hard to recall.  Must not have been that important.  What is important?  Well, it’s getting late in the evening.  Gotta get that protein.  Gotta get to bed.  Gotta rest up for the gym tomorrow.  Leg day, and you wanna be able to show #37 just how hard you worked because you want your own number someday, don’t you?  Sure you do.  It’ll come to you.  One of these days, you’ll just remember that you have a number in mind for yourself.  And then the day comes - you look at the last selfie you took, the dumb one, the one of you with the blank eyes and the big fuckin muscles and well, yeah, you’re shirtless, you’re almost always shirtless at home now, and you’re pretending like you’re surprised, surprised that you got so big, surprised that all the hard work you did is paying off, surprised that you can’t remember your life before, and just for a second, something out of the corner of your eye flickers, and you almost turn your head to look at it, but then you press down on the gas, you leap forward, you lunge ahead, you pick up the weights, you grunt, you sweat, you grow.  And what, you ask yourself, is more satisfying than that? The answer comes loudly, in a rush, like a crowd standing on its feet to cheer:  nothing.  Nothing is more satisfying than that.  And you answer yourself, you grunt to yourself, under your breath: Fuck yeah.

Happy Hour

[with extra special thanks to @jhontfs for helping me find the best possible resolution for the final image]

Jared (right) was so happy to have found Michael (left). Both of them hated the gay scene. Too much drinking. So much sluttiness. Nobody was interested in being cultured or productive. Jared was proud of how driven he and Michael were. How else could Jared have become a Senior VP of Sales at age 28 (at his dad’s company)? And how else could Michael have risen through the ranks to become lead accountant at age 27 (at a subsidiary of Jared’s dad's company)?

Needless to say, they could afford to spend their anniversary dinner somewhere other than Buffalo Wild Wings. But they came back every year because it was where they first met, doing summer jobs so they could hustle and save up money for when they went to Ivy League colleges. They liked to return to where they met, dressed in their Brooks Brothers best, to remind themselves of how far they had come. It was fun!

Well, usually it was fun. This year they could barely hear their conversation about which opera they should buy season tickets to. A group of frat boys was getting rowdy over at the bar, excited over some sports game or other. As the couple watched, glaring, one of the drunk dudes - a brunette guy with a backwards white baseball cap from which greasy brunette sideburns were spilling - was chanting “GO! GO! GO!” at the top of his lungs. He threw his hands in the air, accidentally slopping half his beer all over himself and the counter. While the others whooped loudly, he stripped off his top, revealing his shelflike pecs and broad shoulders, using his sopping wet shirt to mop up the rest of the spill.

Jared rolled his eyes. “What a disgrace. They should be kicked out. If I was still the manager here, I'd already be on the phone with the police.”

Michael glowered over at the boisterous group. "I don't mind if they want to hang out and watch the game. But it's like we don't even exist to them. They only care about themselves, and not how they’re affecting everyone else in the room.”

Jared crossed his arms. “Because they don’t realize other people have lives. To them, nothing matters more than sports, beer, and meaningless hookups. So they don’t think they’re interrupting anything by acting like drunken apes. And nobody else seems to mind! It’s straight privilege.”

Michael furrowed his brow. “I actually think they might be from a gay frat. That one guy looks very comfortable in that other guy’s lap.”

"Even worse,” grunted Jared. “It's bad enough that so many gays waste their lives on party drugs and meaningless hookups. Why add all the sports and rowdiness on top of that? What a miserable waste of a life. Why bother being a drunken lout when you can actually contribute to society in a meaningful way?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you,” Michael grumbled, stabbing at his salad with his plastic fork.

Vowing to ignore the frat boys and carry on with their dinner, the couple picked up their conversation, deciding to look over the opera schedules for a third time and pick whichever theater was doing the most Philip Glass performances.

Jared was about to move the subject along to his favorite topic, work, when Michael fell ominously silent, his eyes locked on something behind Jared’s head.

Jared turned to see the shirtless frat boy they’d noticed earlier, stumbling in their direction and looking like he was going to throw up. Jared tucked his feet in closer to the table. No way was he going to get vomit on his loafers on his anniversary, for Pete’s sake.

Thankfully, the dude didn’t throw up. However, what he did instead was even worse. As he walked past, he stumbled, slammed his beer stein down on their table (knocking the gift-wrapped Rolex that Jared was planning to give Michael onto the floor in the process), and fell right into Michael’s lap. The guy reeked of beer. Jared wrinkled his nose. Michael just stared at the man in his lap, wide-eyed, seemingly in shock.

The frat boy took a beat to consider the situation he found himself in. He looked Michael up and down, blinked slowly, twice, then wrapped his arms around him and gave him a wet sloppy kiss, shoving his tongue halfway down Michael’s throat.

“Excuse me, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked Jared. The frat dude pulled away and gave him a quizzical look.

“Yeah, what are you doing, man?” said Michael. But his tone was slightly slurred and vague, as if he’d gotten secondhand drunk from the sheer amount of beer on the other man’s tongue. His eyes were still wide and glassy.

The frat boy didn’t answer. He just locked lips with Michael again. And this time, Michael kissed back. Jared could see his boyfriend’s tongue darting tentatively into the frat dude’s mouth. He was so scandalized he couldn’t speak. No words came to him, which was a first.

The frat dude grabbed Michael’s face and Michael wrapped his arms around his broad back, his kneading hands leaving fading white impressions on the frat boy’s impressive traps. When the frat boy pulled away again and removed his hands, Jared saw he’d left a brown blotch of something on Michael’s cheeks, which was smeared around the bottom of his chin. Was that… barbecue sauce?

Jared looked closer, disgusted and confused, but noticed it wasn’t sauce. It was dry. It was… stubble. But Michael never even needed to shave, he had always been perfectly smooth… Jared watched in horrified fascination as the stubble seemed to pulse, greasy brown hairs wriggling out of their follicles, becoming longer and longer until they formed a dense line like a brunette shadow along the bottom of his boyfriend’s jaw. The hair carpeted his face like moss, totally wrecking the neat, preppy visage he otherwise displayed to the world and clashing horribly with his darker, slicked-back hair.

The frat dude paused his makeout session to lick along the trail of thick hairs, his tongue rustling against them, causing Michael to moan. Jared had heard his boyfriend moan before. Countless times. But this time, Michael’s voice sounded deeper. It reverberated in Jared’s head, causing him to lose focus for a second.

When his vision clicked back into place, he saw Michael’s hair also doing something that should have been impossible. Like a time-lapse video, the neat cut had begun to sprout, hairs breaking free from their slicked-back prison and flying out in every direction. His corporate undercut was slowly subsumed as the hairs on the back and sides of his head surged outward like an untended lawn filling with weeds.

The frat boy ran a hand through Michael’s lengthening hair as they kept kissing like a pair of wrestling pythons, leaving the hair greasier and messier than it had been before. It looked matted with sweat, like he’d just run a mile. Suddenly, as if they had flopped down from being strapped on either side of his head, two fluffy, greasy sideburns fell past Michael’s ears, connecting his chinstrap - and that’s what it was, Jared realized; a full, douchey-as-hell chinstrap beard - to the rest of his unkempt ‘do. As soon the connection was made, the dark color leached out of the rest of Michael’s head, leaving him with a tangled mop of brunette hair.

Seeing his boyfriend’s neatly styled hair dissolve into chaos in front of him was too much for Jared to take. The thing he loved most about Michael was how much he cared about his appearance. Neither of them could abide untidiness, but now his boyfriend looked like he’d been living in a cave for months. He made a move to grab Michael’s arm so he could drag his boyfriend away from whatever was happening, but he paused when he heard Michael speak in a rumbling bass, the words slurred and dull.

“Fuck, dude, you’re so fucking hot.”

Suddenly Michael’s arm was moved out of grabbing range as it vanished beneath the table, seemingly rubbing the frat boy’s growing bulge. OK, that did it. Whether it was the out-of-character cursing or the outright disrespect that did it, Jared’s haze of confusion cleared and he stood up.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Michael?” he spat.

Michael ignored him. With his left hand, he flicked the frat boy’s nipple, making it harden and pop against his bulging pec. Jared walked around the table and grabbed Michael’s shoulder, trying to shake him out of whatever stupor this frat boy had put him into. However, all that this accomplished was somehow ripping Michael’s expensive button-down shirt down the middle. Michael’s skinny, pale frame was exposed, rippling with exertion. Wait, no. Not exertion. It was just… rippling.

As Jared watched, six abs bubbled up from beneath his boyfriend’s stomach, clenching and unclenching as they grew and bulged, the force of their growing bulk eventually pushing against his navel until it seemed to burst, making a quiet popping sound as it flipped from an innie to an outie. The frat boy placed a finger at Michael’s belt line and ran it up toward Michael’s newfound abs, a trail of thick dark hairs rising up in its wake to form a masculine treasure trail, also brunette and slick with sweat.

Michael gasped and shuddered, pausing the kiss so he could take a deep breath. His chest slowly rose. And rose. And rose. His pecs ballooned into an enormous shelf, his soft nipples stretching to the limit until they too made a soft popping sound and turned into hard, dark knots at the end of what seemed to be two balloons inside his chest. His new pecs were too big for his position, crushed between him and the frat boy. He shifted slightly, removing his shirt completely and shaking out his shoulders, which spread like a pair of mighty wings, becoming an impossibly wide foundation to accommodate his newly giant pecs comfortably. He scratched at his rib cage, where a tattoo inked itself across the skin, bearing the Greek letters “delta rho chi.”

Jared realized he had just been standing there, gawping, for more than a minute. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing. This muscular, shirtless, horny guy who was still making out with a stranger looked nothing like his boyfriend.

His boyfriend, Michael, who was preppy and oh-so perfect for him.

But… there was nothing preppy about this man. Sure, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, but the button-down that Jared could vaguely remember seeing earlier was now a hockey jersey, rumpled and squished behind the horny duo’s writhing bodies. The smart slacks he thought Michael had worn were now distressed jeans that strained against muscular legs.

His boyfriend, Michael, who was an adorable nerd.

But… this guy certainly couldn’t be described as adorable. Jared examined Michael’s face, watching as his nose bent like it had been previously broken. The chinstrap, more than shaping his jawline, actually seemed to warp it before Jared’s eyes so it became straighter and broader. His neatly plucked eyebrows thickened, becoming vaguely simian and just as unkempt as the rest of his hair, also fading to a brunette color. His eyes were closed. Was it a trick of the light or were there bags forming beneath them? The skin around his eyes darkened and reddened, making him look like a hard-drinking raccoon after a week of sleepless nights.

His boyfriend who loved him. His boyfriend, whose name was… Whose name was what? Jared panicked, realizing that the man in front of him was so different from how he used to be that he was struggling to remember how he used to look and what he was called. Was it Mitchell? Michael? Oh, of course…

“Mike!” shouted Jared.

Mike broke his kiss with the frat dude with a sound like a plunger. He grunted, “‘Sup?”

“What’s going on, Mike? Why are you just making out with this idiot?” Jared asked. “What about us? What about our anniversary? The opera? Philip Glass?”

“Fill up glass?” Mike said, seemingly dazed. “Nah dude, I usually drain ‘em!” He chugged the rest of the beer from the stein that the frat boy had set on the table earlier. Giving a deep, boisterous chuckle and a burp, Mike picked up a blue baseball hat from the floor (which Jared could have sworn wasn’t there before), slammed it haphazardly over his greasy rat’s nest of hair, grabbed the frat boy by the hand and dragged him toward the bar, saying, “C’mon bro, let’s get another.”

As the newly minted frat bro walked away, Jared found the memories of his boyfriend fading more and more. He tried to remember the name again. It was on the tip of his tongue. He’d literally just said it. What was it? He tried to jog his memory. He was here at Buffalo Wild Wings because it was their anni-. Their- He was here because it was the closest place to his office and he needed to get some quick food while working overnight on this important report. Of course! How could he have forgotten? That deadline was looming. The stress of it must be the reason he felt so panicky, sweaty, and bereft. He dug into his messenger bag and pulled out his laptop.

————————

Mike was so happy he had found Eddy. Another bro just like him who loved to suck cock and didn’t mind inviting a third or a fourth into bed whenever the fuck they felt like it. Just a cool, chill dude, the kind he’d always dreamed of meeting when he got to college last year.

Speaking of… He turned to ask his boyfriend which Grindr hookup he wanted to invite over the frat house that night, but Eddy was distracted. He was looking over at some preppy-looking douchebag at a table a little way away from them. He had his laptop open, working on some sort of spreadsheet. He took frequent breaks from inputting data to glare over at Mike and his buddies.

Eddy bellowed over the racket their frat brothers were making. “Who the fuck brings work to Buffalo Wild Wings? What kind of loser life is that? Why bother pouring your entire soul into a career when you can just have fun and fuck around instead?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you,” Mike shouted as he pulled Eddy in for another sloppy, delicious, beer-soaked kiss.

The new kid

(Requested by fuckinhornyg)

“Give me your fucking lunch money” said Jason

“Ok here, here you go…” Said Scott

“Thanks nerd”

“Please let me go… now please”

“There you go, now fuck off”  

Scott ran off teary eyed. Jason walked off with his bro’s Mike and Liam. All three of them where high school bully jocks. Big football boys, nicely styled hair all though you didn’t see that much due to them wearing backward caps. They stood pridefully above the rest of the kids in their shadow. They went over to their lockers and chatted.  

“What we doing today bros” said Jason

“Well I got fucking Science shit this morning, but its ok as I got some fucking nerd to do all the work, after that I got a whole afternoon and evening with Coach” said Mike

“That’s fucking ace bro” replied Liam

“I got similar except I’m leaving practice early, I’m going to go break up with Haley later” Said Liam

“Why?”

“She’s a hoe”

“Yeah just do it by text then bro, then you can still play”

“Good idea”

“What about you Jason?”

“I got free session this morning then I got the afternoon with…” Jason stopped abruptly

Out of the corner of his eye 3 new guys walked in down the corridor. They were all quite nerdy but they had some height to them. They seemed quiet and shy.  

“Ah the new kids bro” said Liam also looking at them

“They came here apparently because they got bullied a lot, they chose to do math’s and science shit so maybe we can use em” said Mike

Jason continued to look at them, mostly the one in the middle. Something about him kept him intrigued.  

“Jason bro” Liam said bringing back Jason

“Soz bro, I think our new friends are gonna need to be shown who’s boss”

“Okay see you later bro”  

Jason followed them to math’s class. Jason didn’t get math’s but he had some nerd in class who did all the shit for him. Jason sat down in his spot.

“Hey… man I gave you your money and I’m doing your math’s for you. Do you need to be here in class to do stuff?” said Scott fearfully

“Don’t worry I’m not here for you”

Scott had a feeling of relief hit him all over.  

“Ok Class we have some new guys into day. This Tyler, Zack and Connor”

Jason looked at them intently. They were all pretty similar, spotty faces, underdeveloped muscles, poor hair styles and no style in clothing. Only thing that split them apart was their hair color. Tyler had a nice light brown, Zach had blonde hair and Connor was dark brown/black. Yet despite all this something about Tyler intrigued Jason. During class time Jason looked over at Tyler. For some reason Jason felt good looking at him, he started thinking how cool it would be if he was a jock as well. Tyler wasn’t as nerdy as Jason had thought, he kept answering questions wrong. Every time he failed a question Jason felt a good feeling build up inside him. Jason then realized Tyler isn’t a nerd, and he isn’t a jock. He doesn’t fit in anywhere.  

Jason followed and watched Tyler for a whole week. He watched as he failed at classes, got bullied by nerds and other students, however Jason commanded his fellow bros to leave him. When Coach asked Tyler to do tryouts for football, Liam and Mike did what they could to help him. Jason watched as Scott and other nerds tried to pull him and his friends into nerd life. Jason knew now that they would have to fail, because Jason didn’t want them to be nerds, he wanted them to become jocks like him.

——————————-  

The bell rang and Jason followed Tyler out the class room.  

“Hey Tyler” said Jason awkwardly

Tyler turned around and saw the hulking jock. He began to be scared thinking he would bully him.

“Oh hi” he said quietly

“I was wondering if you wanted to come and try out for football”

Tyler was now confused but he went along with Jason out of fear

“Ok sure” he said slowly

“Great bro, wanna come with me now to the locker room.”

“I have math’s next”

“Won’t matter if you fail another load of questions will it”

“I suppose not” Tyler felt sad at that, which upset Jason

“I’m sure you will be great at football”

The two walked down the corridor to the changing room which they entered. Tyler sat down and got undressed until he was only in underwear.  

“umm I don’t have any uniform or shoes”

“nah don’t worry you can have my stuff” Said Jason as he took off his clothes. He threw his jock strap at Tyler’s feet

“Well put it on bro” he said with a grin on his face    

Out of fear Tyler hesitantly took off his underwear in full view of Jason, he put on the jockstrap which felt weird. A desire to stay put and not move fell over him. Jason got up and took off his shoes.  

“Oh god what’s this odd feeling, Like I don’t want to get up”  

“yeah don’t worry about that bro, just breathe in” Jason held his shoe up and then quickly put it over Tyler’s mouth. Tyler tried to hold his breathe, but he failed and breathed in Jason’s Ranke musk from his shoe. As he did, he began to get light headed. His dick started getting hard and he began enjoying the musk. He put his hands over the shoe and Jason let go. Tyler looked down his vision blurry but he could see his feet growing, becoming bigger and slightly hairier. His legs began getting longer and thicker. He felt himself growing taller. His dick getting harder. He took one hand off the shoe to grab it but before he could Jason put it back on the shoe.

“Don’t worry about this bro, you focus on breathing in” Jason said before putting Tyler’s now 10-inch dick in his mouth.  

Jason looked up at Tyler who was in bliss, holding a shoe to his face and breathing in all the musky goodness. Tyler’s thin belly grew out become buff and strong, a 6-pack started forming and then further up two massive pecs exploded out dominating his upper chest. His arms lengthened out and thickened. His hands grew over the shoe becoming big. His face started becoming smoother and more defined. the spots all melted away back into his clean face. His hair became shorter and spikier. Tyler now had a jock bod and Jason was extremely proud but for him to truly fit in he needed to become a jock mentally.  

Tyler felt his head get lighter as memories and knowledge were all drained out and forced into his dick. They were replaced by memories of being a jock and star football player. He had average grades throughout his school life and needed to bully nerds to get it higher. He was also overly horny and fucked his bro Jason a lot. Once all his brains and memories went into his dick, it exploded all in Jason’s mouth. Jason took his mouth away and stood up. He looked over his new studly creation with pride.

“How do you feel bro”

“So good bro, Like I need to fuck, and also make more bro’s”

“Yeah bro that’s how I feel every day. The desire to turn even the most pathetic nerds into the best jocks is great. I can solve your horniness now though, bro" Jason stepped to Tyler and began making out with him. Their buff bodies rubbing together caused them to feel pleasure. They began to start fucking there and then. Once they finished and got dressed, they began making out again, however Zach and Connor walked in. They didn’t see the jocks at first, but when they turned, they saw them making out.

“Oh god Tyler what happened to you” Said Connor

“What did you do to our friend” Said Zach Angrily

“I made him more… more like me. But don’t worry bro’s there’s plenty for all” Said Jason in a cocky tone, an evil grin came over his face. Zach and Connor were shocked and confused at hearing this, but before they tried to go Tyler and Jason pounced on them throwing them to the floor and forcing the shoes over their mouth’s, beginning their jockification process. Zach and Connor breathed in the musky smell and began to feel the pleasure Tyler felt moments ago. Again, their bodies grew becoming taller, leaner and bigger. Abs started showing and becoming visible, two pecs exploded out dominating their upper body. Their faces changed becoming sharper, spots melted away, their hair shortened into jock cuts. Their pleasure was immense. Tyler and Jason knew that they didn’t need to continue holding the shoes over them. They let go and Zach and Connor held them tightly to their faces while they changed mentally. Their desire to be nerdy and top of every class but sports faded, instead they desired the perfect bods, to be the best at football, to turn nerds into jocks and to fuck all the hot babes. They began visualizing all the hot babes and boobs they could think of but they started having images flash in their heads. They didn’t know at first but they were images of hot dudes and each other. They started thinking about how hot guys were, big dicks and each other, eventually forgetting women completely.  As Zach and Connor put their hands on their dicks, Jason knew they would become perfect dumb jocks. Eventually Zach and Connor’s dicks erupted and they got up looking over their new jock bods. Their eyes found each other’s and they fucked. Eventually once they stopped changing, they got up and greeted each other with ‘bro’. Tyler and Jason fucked each other and Zach and Connor fucked each other before they all fucked together. Once done they discussed working out and football. They then got dressed for football.

However, while their transformations happened, they were secretly being eavesdropped by Scott who was currently cowering in the shower.  Once he thought it was ok to go, he quickly made a run for it keeping his head down. But as he made his fourth step, he bumped into something. He looked up and there was Jason looking down at him.  

“Where do you think you’re going bro?”

“there’s been a mistake I shouldn’t be here. I was just looking for something to help do your homework”

“Oh, don’t worry I will get someone else to do that, for now I need to satisfy my urge”

“What urge is that?”

“The urge to turn you into a jock”

“No please I don’t want to be a jock, I like my intelligence. Please don’t take that from me… I beg you don’t.”

“It’s so great when you do” Said Tyler coming from the side

“yeah, join us Scott” Said Zach and Connor. Slowly cornering Scott back into the shower.

“Join us, bro” They all said in unison, repeating over and over until Scotts back touched the wall. Then he looked behind him frightened and looked back Jason.

“Please I don’t want to be gay as well”

“Why bro? What’s wrong with that? I think it’s time you got used to being a jock”

Jason leapt at Scott shoving the shoe over his mouth. Again, Scott turned bit by bit into a jock. His body buffed up. Slowly turning into a perfect jock bod. Then he began rubbing his dick, with each rub more of his knowledge and heterosexuality was forced into his balls. When it exploded, a dumb grin came over him and he was forever now a dumb gay jock.

The boys left for a life of bullying nerds, football and fucking. Jason and Tyler were boyfriends but let others in on threesomes. Life was better for them.

This was my roommate Ian 3 weeks ago. He was a pretty good guy, funny, always upbeat, and a great roommate actually. Both of us are gay, but mutually not into each other- making the living situation drama free. As Ian put it, we were both our own gay stereotype. Ian was the twink- dancing up a club till 3am, throwing around sharp sassy humor, and strutting around in colored briefs with colored drinks. Meanwhile to him I was simply the “muscle bro.”

Our unique characters were all well and good but sometimes I just wanted a simple bro around, a dude who’d drink a beer and watch sports with me not just stream endless Bravo. Or a gym partner to pump weights with not just pass time on the elliptical. So I decided to make some changes around the apartment- and by changes I mean breakfast. Everything starts with the right breakfast- especially when the recipes come from the Jocking Manual.

Ian wasn’t really a morning guy. Dancing till 3am or 4am he rarely left bed on the weekends before noon. But I insisted one weekend that I’d make him breakfast and he’d wake up right. He grumbled- but next day I got up early and started on the pancakes. They have their own irresistible smell and sure enough Ian eventually crawled out of room to sleepily sit at the table. He just had a few small bites that first day but he had to admit there were good and that was enough to get things started. 

As each day passed I started watching improvements with pride. He started getting up a little earlier, catching me in the morning to get a plate of pancakes or a little eggs, and then even going for some bacon. By day four he finally caved and joined me for a gym session. He still insisted on cardio work but eventually he joined me at the bench and he caught on to a routine. He even started showing interest in ESPN, watching some football with me although he mostly just commented on which player he’d wanna be fucked by. But by the way he adjusted his shorts I could tell his equipment was undergoing some of its own upgrades. Two weeks in I figured I could take things up a few levels and I went all out on breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, fruit, ham… He was apprehensive by the spread the next morning but after one bite and he was hooked, wolfing down serving after serving.

The rest of the day he was on fire, ignoring the treadmill completely to max out on deadlifts, bench and bicep curls. Back at the apartment he stayed shirtless, his bony skinny frame on full display, as he switched on tonight game voluntarily. As we watched I could see every one of his thin overworked muscles contract and expand ever so slightly and I smirked as he absentmindedly cupped a hand around his arm and flexed. 

Next morning the changes were on a whole other lever. He appeared early at the table eager for food wearing a tank top I never knew he had. His arms had swollen into meaty baseball mounds and chest had thickened into two actual toned pecs. Stubble wrapped around his sharper jawline and even his voice had lost some of its sing-song pitch and dropped a little. “Yo check it out? who’d believe I had abs?” He smirked before excitedly digging into food.

I could’ve left him like that. His boyish charm mixed with a buff lean body and scruff on his chin. He still had some of that clever sassy charisma aaaand he was hot. And ultimately that was a problem. 

That day at the gym I had a hard time not eyeing his new body as we flexed through each set. He had a cocky smirk plastered on his face that I’d never seen him have before and the bulge straining his now small tight shorts left nothing to the imagination. I could tell he liked the attention. Sure enough in the showers he slipped into my stall asking for some “help with the soap”. We had a roommate pact to never fuck but… fuck he got hot. One fuck session in the showers turned into a continuous night of dirty horseplay at home, made even hotter by the fact that with every thrust into his round bubbly ass I could feel his body get harder.

That week the sex and the workouts were non stop. But I could tell Ian’s interest was wavering as his attitude was becoming incrementally more alpha. A few days went by and I saw him come out of a shower stall proudly followed by a skinny gym bunny limping to grab a towel. Ian just gave me a wink as he swaggered back to his locker, his half hard meat swinging between his legs. Better finish what I started.  

I kept on serving up my special pancakes. Adding on some special cream and unique powdered sugar to keep things on track. Just like that his arms quickly started to seriously swell. His chest and shoulders put on more mass making his old shirts way too small for his bulking frame. He started borrowing my cut off muscle tees and tanks, and then some jock straps- no doubt for a cock that was fattening into a full on a monster. He started loosing some his sassy cleverness, gaining a slow dumb chuckle as his voice grew even deeper and slow. After a week the old Ian was completely gone. “Eat up bro, need our macros- we gotta bulk this month” as he grinned dumbly flexing in front of the mountain of breakfast he made. I seriously had the perfect room mate.