NSFW! Appreciating the beauty of the male form. NO MINORS, please. All models are thought to be of the legal age or older. All images are thought to be in the public domain.
Hey man! I'm an average guy who works out a lot and is trying to get some muscle on his body haha, I've recently heard about this Jock Studies thing and I was curious what it was all about and why are so many other guys enrolling into it all of a sudden.. I've also been feeling like someone has been watching me the last few days as I was working out.. but I didn't today close attention.. maybe it's a talent scout.. hmm... Who knows..
I’ve got to say, I’m impressed. Not to stereotype, but not many college athletes are as perceptive as you. Not only did you notice that something was up with Jock studies without immediately getting hypnotized, you noticed one of their assistant coaches following you! Assistant coaches do that stuff a lot, since they’re subservient to the main coaches, but still smart enough to not get caught, unlike the jocks who’d probably get distracted by their own pecs. Now, sadly that perceptiveness doesn’t seem to have come with any common sense, because the fact that you noticed you’re being followed and don’t seem to be at all worried means you’re basically already doomed. I’m guessing by the time you get this you’ll already be a beefy, dumb, slutty gay jock who loves to gargle his coaches' hairy balls. So, I don’t think I’m going to be able to help you much… but at least I can use this as a way to warn other people!
So, I’ve talked about Jock Studies before, about how they systematically infiltrate colleges around the country and brainwash students into being slutty, sexy jocks who worship their macho coaches. But I haven’t gone much into how people end up joining Jock studies. I mean, yeah, most people end up in jock studies after taking a class out of curiosity and getting pulled in, or being hypnotized by some horny jock, or because they got too close to the truth had to be silenced, in this case by a thick cock being shoved in their mouth, but there are some other ways and reasons that people end up joining Jock studies. Rarely, certain people are specifically sought out to join Jock Studies, are ‘scouted’ just as this guy has been, and once they have been there is no escape. Once you’ve caught Coach’s eye, you’re going to end up a jock, no matter what you do to protect yourself. In the end the only way to avoid getting changed, is to avoid being noticed by the members of Jock Studies at all, which can be harder than you think. When someone is scouted for Jock Studies, it’s usually for a specific reason. In this guy's case it’s probably because of how dedicated he is to working out, since those who already have the qualities of good athletes often become the best jocks after being changed, but there are other reasons. For example, having a connection to one of the jocks or coaches is a common reason. Some jocks feel a natural urge to have some of their old nerdy friends back, and request that they get changed, and some coaches want people they’re close to to feel how amazing it is to serve Coach. The best thing to do to avoid being changed is to avoid anyone who is even remotely connected to Jock Studies, and try not to show even the slightest bit of athletic promise.
For those of you who actually want to join jock studies, which I both understand and think is absolutely insane, being scouted is actually a really good thing. Jocks who get scouted often get the most intense, amazing transformations, and get perks once they are jocks. Because of this guy's dedication to working out and his perceptiveness, I bet they’ll make him absolutely massive, and maybe even let him keep some of his brains. I’ve even heard rumors that some high performing jocks are assigned ‘cheertwinks’ as rewards for good behavior, but I can’t be sure that's true. Anyways, I hope you enjoy being a huge, dumb himbo jock who thinks only about pleasing Coach, working out, and fucking anyone remotely hot. Especially since you don’t really have a choice.
Daniel'd never gotten on with his roommate. And that was just fine. They were different people from different worlds and learned to give one another space. The only thing they had in common really was a love of music, so Kevin - bodybuilder that he was - put together a playlist hoping to clear the air.
Daniel hadn't thought much of it, at least at first. It didn't sound like there was any music playing though he could've sworn there were voices echoing in surround sound. It took a couple of loops for him to really get what Kevin was going for.
Brody was nervous about living in a dorm. He knew the reputation they had, especially those at Dalton, and that he’d surely be forced to live with at least one roommate throughout the semester. What if they never got on? Brody was an artsy sort of guy with kind eyes and a lithe frame. At a distance he appeared scrawny - not helped by his ill-fitting clothing and equally unflattering posture - though he did have some definition around his shoulders and legs from running track in school. That was actually why he’d come to Dalton in the first place. He’d planned on heading to art school like all his friends only to have his application intercepted and fast-tracked to study at Dalton based on athletic merit. It’d only ever been an extracurricular hobby for him, not the sort of thing he wanted to own or get by on, but given how competitive the art colleges were and the cost of rent being what it was, Brody’d let his friends go with a heavy heart.
It occurred to him as he climbed the stairs that he wasn’t sure if Dalton even had much in the way of an art department. He stepped over some bottles, rolls of unfurled toilet paper and discarded condom packets - was…was that a used one?! - before settling upon his door.
#69.
He groaned. Someone out there must’ve laughed themself stupid at that. In fact, muffled behind the door, someone WAS laughing themself stupid. He tensed with the key half-turned, all those doubts of having left his friends rushing back. It wasn’t too late, right? If his roommate turned out to be an obnoxious douche he could always swap with someone else, or spend his days locked away in the library, or go scurrying back home with his tail between his legs. No…No…Brody steeled himself and took a breath, opened the door and stepped inside.
Sprawled upon the sofa in nothing but boardshorts was a jock. He’d a tight cut of brunette curls, peach fuzz mustache along his upper lip and a douchey goatee upon his chin. His body bordered on parody compared to Brody’s, taking up at least twice as much space in both literal size and smell. A gold chain choked around his neck and he’d committed the cardinal sin of wearing socks with slides. He also wore sunglasses, which Brody couldn’t decide was him committing to the aesthetic or an attempt at masking a hangover. Before he could land either way, the jock rose from his slump with explosive force, beaming like a dopey golden retriever.
“Hey, bro!” he hollered, loud enough for the entire block to hear. “Name’s Tanner. Glad to be roomin’ with ya, bro!”
He moved closer and Brody braced himself for the inevitable. The wind was squeezed right out of him as Tanner wrapped an arm around to bring him in. He held his breath a moment longer out of spite, nose buried in his pit, only to then choke upon his release.
“Brody!” he beamed wider still. “That’s gonna be easy to remember, bro. We’re gonna be best buds, I can tell!”
Brody wasn’t so convinced. ‘Bro’ was a nickname he’d shunned his entire life. Coupled with the fact Tanner clearly hadn’t showered all week and that he’d already made a mess of the place - football trophies here, bottles and cans there, a few scattered jerseys and a suspiciously football-sized dent in the wall - he didn’t expect to last the night. Still, he didn’t have the heart to say that to Tanner’s face. The dope seemed happy enough just having company, compatible or otherwise.
“Sooo, you need help with your stuff, bro? I can go lift it for you. I’m good at that.” He’d smirked and gave an exaggerated curl of his bicep, pout and all. “I’ve got stuff in my car I still gotta haul anyways, but you can help with that, right bro?”
There it was again. Brody bit his tongue and headed for the door. The pair made swift work of the luggage, hoisting everything from boxes of clothes to a flatscreen TV, and Tanner must’ve snuck at least half a dozen ‘bro’s while doing it. Brody wasn’t sure if he was trying to piss him off or make the nickname stick. By the time they finished he was a tense and sweaty mess, dabbing away at his forehead with the collar of his tee.
“Think fast-!”
Brody all but doubled over as Tanner lobbed a can straight at him, striking his chest. He managed to break its fall by cupping his hands and after some fumbling was able to hold it.
“Figured you’d need a drink, bro. You’re stronger than you look. What you here for anyways?” Tanner was draped again upon the sofa, his arms exaggeratedly spread along the back and his legs leaving nothing to the imagination. Annoyed as Brody was, he couldn’t deny the jock seemed genuinely invested in getting to know him, so he softened his glare and took a sip of beer.
“Well, that’s a bit of a long story actually,” he confessed, lingering by the front door.
Tanner’s smile held.
“I applied to a lot of the big art schools - y’know, the bougie pretentious ones - but it’s…hoo, it’s a cutthroat world, lemme tell you. All my friends got in, pursuing fine arts and all that,” he waved a hand and took another sip, “but I’m more of an illustration kind of guy. Anime, cartooning, that sort of thing.”
Tanner nodded, though had a look that said he knew there’d be more.
“So yeah, it wasn’t looking good. I didn’t have a lot of options left. But then I got this email,” sip, “for here. I know the kind of rep’ it has but they DID offer me an unconditional place. Think they liked that I did track, I guess. Must’ve looked good.”
Tanner clapped his hands together. Knew it! “And now you’re here, bro.”
Brody nodded. “And now I’m here.”
Tanner tossed him another beer. Had he finished it already? Damn. “Your story doesn’t make much sense though, bro.”
“Oh, yeah?”
The jock shook his head. “This place doesn’t HAVE any arts department, bro.”
“...”
“You must’ve misread, bro. Dalton’s, like, THE place to be for athletes. It’s the only thing it’s good for, bro.”
“...No, but I’d have-”
“Cards on the table, bro, I called it. Clocked it a mile off.”
Brody’s world began to spin, the edge of his vision blurring. His grip tightened on the can - his second? Third? He’d lost count amidst the confusion. “Stop—S-Stop calling me that.”
“Calling you what, bro?” He looked genuinely confused, bordering on offended. Or was he smug? Brody’s head—
“Bro!”
“Yeah?”
Goddammit! Brody felt himself swaying off-balance. His body felt wrong in so many ways. It was obvious he worked out like Tanner’d said but it’d become even more obvious given he was standing with nothing on. OK, well, not NOTHING - he still had a pair of khaki shorts on that gave away the fact he was freeballing, and when he side-stepped to balance himself out he heard the distinct SLAP, SLAP of a slider thwacking his sock-clad sole.
“Bro?” Tanner again, grounding him back to reality.
“Yeah?” God, why did he sound hungover? It felt like his mouth was stuffed with cotton. He wriggled his jaw side to side, running a callused mitt along the douchey…chinstrap…beard?
“You good? Spaced out there for a sec, bro.”
Brody shook his head. Then nodded. Then gawked over at himself - the tight biceps and quads, the wiry hair swirling around his nipples, that he’d a thick semi snaked down his right leg whose head would occasionally bob out beneath the cuff. His knuckles were scarred and bruised and his left eye felt a bit janky, but he looked fucking sick! As in, something was seriously, seriously wrong with him. Right?
“So, yeah, bro, like I said - what you here for anyways?”
Brody furrowed his brow, an impressive feat given how thick it already was. Hadn’t he already told him? Wasn’t it obvious? The fuck did he think those trophies were for - debate club?
“Wrestling, bro.” The words blurted out before Brody could even think to silence them. He spoke with a gruff timbre that bordered on vocal fry, like every syllable was held a moment longer than he ought to. “Scholarship, y’know? All my buds bailed to some artsy fartsy dump but,” he shrugged his beefy shoulders, “wrestling’s its own kinda art, bro.”
“Fuck yeah it is!” Tanner whooped, smacking the back of the sofa for his roomie to come join him. He slammed another beef against his chest and flicked on the TV, some college football game or another Brody’d previously had no interest in; this time he found himself hooked, leaning forward and reacting whenever a play was made, managing to somehow match then outdo Tanner’s enthusiasm. “Man, I knew we’d hit it off when I saw you, bro. Had me worried for a sec’ coz you had that whole quiet thing going on but,” he snerked, “Brody? I mean, come ON, bro!”
___
Conner was nervous about living in a dorm. He knew the reputation they had, especially those at Dalton, and that he’d surely be forced to live with at least one roommate throughout the semester. What if they never got on? Conner was an English lit student with a particular interest in poetry. He’d a mousy visage and eyes that never quite held anyone’s gaze, particularly those he’d had to squeeze by on his way into the building. He’d have gone anywhere else if they’d been less demanding, but Dalton’d thrown him a bone and for all its faults he couldn’t object to the cost of living there.
It occurred to him as he climbed the stairs that he wasn’t sure if Dalton even had much in the way of a literary department. He stepped over some bottles, a scattering of anime drawings and discarded condom packets - was…was that a used one?! - before settling upon his door.
#69.
He rolled his eyes. Someone out there must’ve laughed themself stupid at that. In fact, muffled behind the door, someone WAS laughing themself stupid, TWO someones from the sound of things. He tensed with the key half-turned, hearing them roughhousing and goading one another on. It wasn’t too late, right? If his roommates turned out to be obnoxious douchebags he could always swap with someone else, or spend his days locked away in the library, or go scurrying back home with his tail between his legs. No…No…Conner steeled himself and took a breath, opened the door and stepped inside…
Jeff rarely worked out at the gym, he was a scrawny nerd and decidedto try this cheap gum in a run down part of town. A fellow gym goer offered jeff a new deodorant, and jeff sprayed it constantly. The more he worked out, the more he sprayed it. After a while jeff noticed a growing sweat and musk smell. It wasn't long before the sweaty musky smell constantly surrounded jeff, no matter what he was doing. His muscles started to grow with the musk. Even his cock and balls grew. He hung out with the guys who gave him the spray more often. His new chiseled body, 10 inch cock, heavy low hanging balls soaked with his sweat and precum, his musk lingering everywhere he went. Everyone he was around was attracted to his musk. He was no longer the weak nerd, he was an alpha musk stud..
Well, it's best to do some research when applying to schools; you'll discover some secrets. This nerd, for example, didn't do his homework and failed to realize that every student at this school was an athlete, and whether he liked it or not, becoming a jock on the sports field was his destiny. Thanks to technological advancements, the best qualities of nerd and jock can coexist in the same body; look how satisfied he was with his transformation.
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It’s far from perfect. There are continuity issues, a few mistakes here and there, and plenty of AI shenanigans. But I had a blast making it and I think it’s worth sharing anyway.
All the credit in the world goes to the amazing @misctf for writing the original story and for letting me share this. 👊🏽
Yup, you got that right, I’m a Banana now. I guess you can say they caught me slipping… you can be a Banana too, bro, you just gotta let them transform you. It feels good, bro. They put you in this comfortable uniform— peep the yellow compression shorts— and they feed you this yellow stuff that Coach says, uh, “turns your brain to mush but makes your muscles massive” or something like that… I don’t remember exactly what he said. Doesn’t matter, bro.
You a Banana, or a Ba-nono? You gotta decide, bro, the team’s coming for you right now.
Yoo bro how can i become himbo? Im 18 years old im more of skinny type i want to get muscles and be dumb for porn or anything else can u help? Like what do i have to do? Etc
Start using hypno. Stop procrastinating on fulfilling your dreams. Start now.
Life as a dumb himbo is actually pretty easy. All it is, lifting big, eating big (healthy whole foods of carbs, proteins, and fats), and feeling pleasure.
Men when they start going to the gym over complicate things. There is no perfect routine for strength training. Just get into the gym 3-4x a week. To start off, you should ask ChatGPT to make you a push-pull workout. Train to failure, and watch videos or ask fellow gym bros to help you with your technique. (no more than 8-10 reps, if you are getting to 10 reps, you need to go up in weight). Technique is key. Poor technique leads to bad results.
Start using hypno to help calm and simplify your mind. There are plenty of good hypnos that are linked on Tumblr. Here’s one that many jock bros enjoy.
