No way I’m going to let it get to me, I promised myself, and all my friends too. My school was always jocking people up to join the team – part of the problem with being in a small town is sports just dominates the culture. Plus biotech is such a huge industry… so pair that with the local coaches and the sports mentality and they just get your recruited and down that lifestyle. Some of these towns like mine – I’m from Michigan – they just try to get everybody on the team. It’s big money and it’s what they enjoy so it’s gotten to be almost the norm.
Anyhow, so I had to join the team and they shot me up with the latest formula to prep me for football. I pleased with them not to, but my parents took the money and signed off. They did it anyhow and said I’d adjust. I figured my body is one thing, and they could even make me join the team but as soon as I graduate, I’ll get away and never come back. They couldn’t change who I am, either, just my body, and I told everybody that.
That’s what I thought, anyhow. But suddenly bam, they’ve got me practicing five days a week, and on the formula every Friday too. I’d be in class and my body would ache, and it would be harder to focus on the text because I was tired, man, and knew I’d be doing pushups in four hours anyhow. Why bother, I’d sometimes think, I’m not going to be able to win – but then I’d hold onto myself and remind myself how much I hated them for making me do this.
So it was starting to work – I was growing muscle, able to do more pushups every week than before, really, and learning all sorts of sports shit that I didn’t care about, but they just drill it into you. My hormones were being stimulated too, as I noticed I was starting to sweat more, and then my body just started to pack on the muscle. I was getting some hair, too, first to my horror – I didn’t need hairy armpits, or it starting to show up around my ankles. It’s just your body, that’s not the real you, I told myself.
I would find myself in bed at night, tossing and turning with my head racing over what they were doing to me and how I should just maybe run away. One night I got up and turned on the light to go into the bathroom to check out what this was all doing to me – my legs were getting hairy and I even noticed a few sparse hairs down by my belly button, which hadn’t been there before. Fuck, why couldn’t they just let me be, I thought, their stupid jock culture and small town attitudes. I flexed and gave my stupidest jock grin to the mirror just to be facetious, unable to look away from the full thatch of hair that had sprouted up in my pit. Then I felt a twitch in my dick, as if I was kind of – ok, I had to admit it – excited by it. Was I really getting turned on by what they’re doing to me?
By the end of the month I had my answer – I was. It was becoming almost a nightly ritual to go check myself out in the bathroom mirror, and even jack off in front of it. At first I was ashamed, but it was like my dick was taking control of my rational mind away from me. It had grown longer, and was surrounded by fur, a little more each day, and while I knew I should find that disgusting, it would spring up on me even while I had my head under my pillow and was telling myself to break the habit and just go to sleep. By the time summer came, I was flexing and feeling my pit hair with a raging boner, and while I knew I should be ashamed, I also knew nobody was looking. I was even making my voice get deep just to hear it come out of my chest as I jacked and grunted for the stud in the mirror, all to turn myself on, and inevitably just to cum all over myself.
Fast-forward: the wrestling and football training just got more intense, and they didn’t let up with the injections. One time I even threw a bone right in the office as they gave it to me. It was really hard to block it out of my head, the secret thrill I had about what was happening to me, or to look away now when I saw a guy take his shirt off. I was noticing things I hadn’t paid attention to before, like the veins on guys’ arms, or the shadow of scruff they had, and it was hard not to look. I’d be in class and just looking at the shoulders or ass of the guy ahead of me, and trying to resist the temptation to adjust my crotch right then and there because of the chubby I was getting. My underwear felt so tight, I thought, sweating nervously during English one day, and I just wanted to get out of there and head down to the gym. They were making me into just another jock anyhow, so English could probably wait til I was free of this town. I mean you can only fight it so much, you know? My muscles needed to work out, not sit here behind a desk.
I was also pretty sure what my dick was starting to need was a hookup with a dude, too. That happened one day after wrestling practice when we locked the door to the changing room and I locked tongues with another man for the first time. Fuck, I felt nasty for doing it but so turned on, my dick was just straining against my sweatpants within seconds. I just had to get his shirt off and see… before long I had it off. "Fuck, are you really doing this,“ I tried to ask myself, but I was so hard. It wasn’t long til we were stripping down to our underwear, and one night I asked him to spend the night at my place to play video games… but I no longer had any interest in those, really.
My face started growing hair on it, and even my chest did, as they just pushed me harder and harder. And look at me now – I’m crushing it on the team. I’m going to be playing sports in college, soon. I fucking love sports, man, and I can’t help it. I think of dick, muscle, and body hair a hundred times a day now, or whatever it is with the average male, and probably more than that really as I work out so much.
Fuck, so I am the big-dicked dumb jock they wanted to make, but I’m grateful for it, man, I truly am. The sex I have now is so good, and when I do jack-off sessions in front of the mirror now, they’re hotter than ever… I’ve learned just how to flex and pose, and… a dick wants what it wants, ok. My ass grew to be all firm and covered with hair now, too, and if I put on a jock strap and turn around that’s practically enough to turn on my amped-up sex drive and make me want to either cum all over the mirror or give some bros a call and get one over here asap. I’m fit, hairy, and athletic and if that’s a tight ass, I want that ass, man. I might even get into coaching someday or the tech hookup so that I can give guys some of what I’ve been given, and the new stuff they got coming down the pipeline all the time is even better and more exciting, technology’s improving all the time. Some boys just need a big old dick, man, if I can keep these jock paws off mine for a second. I gotta get on the phone with one of my bros and get em over here in a singlet or some grey sweatpants or… god man, I could go on all day. Just give me dat ass.
GOOD JOCKBOY! make sure to REPORT IN next FRIDAY for your next DOZE bro… ;)
I've been taking it 3 times a week and fxcck. It's changing my Life bro.
