You wake up feeling out of sorts, not too sure why you have a sense of weirdness about you.
Your cell beeps, signaling a text has come through. “Happy Birthday! Hope you like it when your deepest darkest desires come true!” It says. You don’t recognize the phone number.
You head to the bathroom to take care of your morning routine. You shit, shower and shave, thinking something was wrong, but shrugging it off. Bending down in front of the mirror as you shave, you think to yourself, I really need to adjust it. And why is the counter so damn low? Again, you brush it off. Your cell phone rings with some douchey hip-hop ringtone. (When did I change my ringtone?) and you don’t recognize the number. You let it go to voice mail. Playing it back, you hear someone saying,“Hey bro, we were supposed to work out together half an hour ago, hurry up and get you ass over here! ”
You realize that it’s your best bro Jimbo. How can you forget his number? And why wasn’t it programmed into your phone? Anyway you put on some clothes grab your bag and head to the gym.
On route to the gym, you get a text from more people you don’t know. There’s a photo of two naked twinks, both with slave collars saying, please master, can we do this again?“ Confused you think whatever, and continue to the gym.
“Fucking A dude, what the fuck?” Jimbo asks me.
“Fuck you!” I reply, giving him a bro hug. “I was busy dominating two twinks last night. I had to destroy their asses and break their jaws with my fucking huge fuckstick.” Fuckstick? Dominating? What was I saying? I stared to feel like a passenger in my own body.
“Whatevah,” Jimbo says. “Let’s just fuckin workout already, bitch.” “Yeah, you my bitch,” you say. You guys get to the squat rack and you start piling on the plates on the barbell. 1…2…3…4…5… on each side. “What the fuck,” you think to yourself, “I can’t fuckin lift that: And your body proceeds to do so. Your mighty (mighty?) thighs pumping with veins and muscles. Your ass popping out, two basketballs hanging in mid-air, so luscious and solid. And your calves are more like cows, bigger that footballs and solid like stone. You finish 3 sets of 50 reps and move on to a bench press. Piling over 500 lbs of weights on to the barbell, you make quick work of your 3 sets of 25 reps. Sweat glistens off of your majorly pumped pecs. You can’t believe how chiseled and solid they are. (Of course they are. The gym is like your home. You basically live here.) Then you start to curl the barbell. You biceps and arms growing and filling up with rock hard solid muscle. Bigger than a kid’s head, your arms are glorious! (Fuck yeah! You spend enough time on them!) You move on to work out each and every muscle group, feeling pumped and awesome as reps turn into sets.
“Fuck yeah, Jimbo! That was fucking awesome!” You high five Jimbo. “Yeah, you were fucking possessed!” he says. “Fucking A! Killer fucking workout!” you reply. Your phone dings. “Don’t forget your shift starts in an hour. Sometimes you’re so dumb you’d be lost without me.” The text from your manager reads “Shit! I gotta go work! See you later. “
In the locker room, you can’t help admire your body. It’s perfection. Every muscle carved and honed to statuesque beauty. Of course you don’t know words like statuesque anymore, you just think of yourself as fuckin ripped! You can’t help but admire yourself in the mirrors, posing and cockily grinning. Taking a few selfies. You’re just so fucking hot! You turn yourself on! You get yourself ready for a night stripping at the club. Oiling up your muscles putting on your stripper gear (a sexy cop outfit) and getting ready for a night of stripping and getting your muscles worshipped. Who knows? Maybe tonight, you’ll take home more twinks to dominate, and ruin more holes and break more jaws. This is the life!
For @hyphyphurray as a belated birthday story. Hope you like it bruh!
I was in a good mood and had some time, so I granted a request.
**********************
There was no doubt about it.
At 5’3” and 125 pounds, Cesar was a nerd. It was ironic that the only job he could find
for his work study program was as a towel boy for his college’s locker
room.
Cesar resented working in the locher room, feeling that his
talents could be used elsewhere. Why
should he have to pick up after these disgusting dumb jocks? He could be writing theses, making scientific
discoveries, even playing D & D.
Anything but picking up towels that a bunch of musclehead jocks left
behind.
One day, Cesar the locker room was even more disgusting than
normal. Towels lay strewn around almost
every surface imaginable. (How the hell
did a towel get hung up on the ceiling
lamp?) Someone pushed Cesar from
behind, and stuck a jock strap over his head.
He was forced to inhale the musky odor.
The more he inhaled the more turned on he got.
“What the hell?” Cesar asked himself. He found himself removing the jockstrap from
his face and then holding up the jockstrap to his nose and taking in a huge whiff,
just realizing it was Coach Dixon’s jockstrap.
Without any hesitation, his hands automatically shucked off his pants
and boxers and put it on.
An electric shock sent shivers through his body. Cesar started to convulse. As his body rapidly shook, muscles started growing. His neck got thicker. Chest grew into two slabs of rock solid
muscle. His arms grew longer and thicker,
packing on muscle until his arms seemed to have a bowling ball stretching the
skin. His torso elongated as an 8-pack
of abs appeared. Obliques helped to
define that inverted pyramid shape that any musclehead wanted. His legs grew longer and stronger. Thighs inflated with muscle becoming bigger
than most men’s heads. Calves grew into perfect
diamond shapes, and his feet grew to size sixteen monsters.
Cesar’s head exploded with new information about football,
working out, fucking guys and pleasing coach.
Must obey Coach Dixon! Must work
as a team. Team is all. Football is life! All that knowledge that was in his head
before was worthless and found itself being expunged as Cesar’s new 12-inch
dick expoded with cum. His new 12-dick
that he could hardly fit two hands around kept on pulsading and exploding with
gallons of cum!
Cesar’s hair became a jock cut. His face changed last. It became a thing of chistled
masculinity. High cheekbones, rugged
good looks. “Huhhuhuh,” he laughed
dumbly with his new deeper voice. “Whoa!”
“Come on fucker,” Coach Dixon said,”the TEAM need you on the
field. Suit up and get on the field.”
“Yes sir!” Cesar says, ready for his new life as a dumb football
jock.
Happy Belated Birthday writer-ofstuff! I’m sorry it’s a little late, but it’s done! Hope you like it! @writer-ofstuff
“How the heck do I get myself into these situations?” Stiles Silinski, current Mr October of the “Men of GWU” calendar, asked himself. As a joke, the other members of Stiles’ lacrosse team voted that he should be their representative for the annual fundraiser. This year was the tenth anniversary of the calendar, so, the GWU Student Body decided to hire some big photographer from Central City. As Stiles did his best to pose, the photographer got frustrated and cleared the studio. He told Stiles to have a seat, and asked him what was wrong. Stiles didn’t know how to respond. “ I guess I’m just camera shy?” He said without much conviction. “Hmmmm,” the photographer said. “I think I can fix that,” and he patted Stiles on the shoulder pricking his shoulder with his ring. “Fuck!” Stiles exclaimed. “What the hell was that?!” “Oh, don’t worry about it Mr. Silinski. “It’s just a little something that will make you more susceptible to hypnotic suggestions right about… now” As the photographer said now, Stiles’ mind blanked out, a vacant expression on his face. “Stiles, can you hear me?” the photographer asked. “Yes.” “Good. You’re so calm and relaxed. You find my voice so soothing and commanding. You must obey my voice,” the photographer said. “Relaxed… soothing… must obey,” Stiles murmured. “ I have plans for that werewolf boyfriend of yours, and you would only interfere with them,” the photographer explained. “ The world could always use more bros, so you will become the most narcissistic, muscled up, oversexed bro ever!” “First things first, you are no longer Stiles Silinski. Your name is Chad Smith. But to all your bros at the Mu Alpha Nu fraternity you are known as Meathead.” “I am Chad Smith. My bro’s call me Meathead….” “You are a total frat bro. You live for the gym, to fuck sluts and to party as much as possible.” “Total frat bro…” “You totally dress like a bro, bruh. You rarely wear shirts, but if you do, they are frat shirts or sports jerseys. You always wear a backwards baseball cap. You always wear track bottoms or basketball shorts. You tend to wear athletic brands like Nike and Under Armor.” “Dress like a bro…” “Now for the fun part! You will gain 30 pounds of muscle!” The new Stiles aka Chad Smith didn’t see what was happening. His neck thickened. His pecks jutted our, forming a perfect pec shelf. His biceps and triceps rippled with veins and formed solid, rock-hard bulges of muscle, the forearms thickening slightly. His shoulders and back filled with cords or muscle, giving him the shape of an inverted pyramid. A bubble butt formed, one that would look awesome in basketball shorts. And his legs growing bigger than most people’s heads containing such muscular power. His calves exploded outwards.” “That looks excellent! Now, I need you to fill in the other things a total frat bro needs.” This time the transformation started at his feet, growing to a size 15. His legs and torso lengthened to give him a height of over 6 feet. Chads cock grew to an impressive 10 inches with low hanging balls to match! His hands grew calloused and bigger. Chad’s hair sank back into his scalp becoming a very short cropped hair-style. And his face became much more jock-like. Chad’s vacant expression becoming that much more dumb looking. “Now Chad, you will wake up and remember only the things I have told you. You are a total frat bro named Chad Smith. You live to go to the gym, fuck sluts and party up with your bros. Your IQ is around 90. And you know nothing about the supernatural or a place called Beacon Hills.” “I got it, bro,” Chad answered in his new bassy, bovine sounding voice. “Excellent! So wake up and let’s do this photo shoot!” The photographer called his crew back, and they continued shooting the calendar, this time with a very outgoing, and full or confidence Chad, who might like the camera and attention, a little too much.
“Come on bruh! I gotta get to the gym. Me and my frat bros are gonna work out. Gotta get a nice pump before the kegger tonight!” Chad said.
“I think I have everything I need, Chad,”the photographer said.
“Bro,” he replied, “I said call me Meathead! All my bro’s do!” “Ok, Meathead. Go on, have fun!” As Chad “Meathead” Smith walked out of the studio, the photographer thought to himself, “Now Derek Hale will be mine!”
It worked! I can’t believe it fucking worked! Last night, I was working on my programming assignment, and was like, fuck it! I then typed in a computer code that basically said that I would sell my soul to be a hot himbo porn star. Some fucked up things happened: lights flickering on and off, papers flying around. A strange wind blowing through the room. And then I blacked out. This morning, my apartment is completely different, and i look like this! Holy shit this is fucking awesome! The first thing i’m gonna do is….
Whoa, bro… what the fuck was i doing? Oh right, i got a shoot today, and i gotta go to the gym… fuck yeah! i love my fucking life!
Maximilian Maxwell III was a
nerd. A dweeb. A geek. He put up with a lot of bullying and name-calling in
high school, all while thinking it would all be better in college. Well, he was
living proof that it didn’t ever get better. Not really.
Even now in college, he was
constantly picked on by the frat douchebags of Mu Alpha Nu fraternity. He had
decided to try to join a fraternity himself, who cares if it was like buying
friends, at least there was safety in numbers. So, during rush he tried to join
a house, but the only house that would have him was Zeta Iota Tau. The nerd
house.
At least he was surrounded by
other guys who enjoyed studying, playing video games and excelling in academics.
It was an okay existence. There was always something going on whether it was a
chess tournament or a game of Magic: The Gathering. It wasn’t what he expected
when he originally joined a fraternity, but it was still fun.
The expected girls, booze,
parties never really materialized. The hardest thing they drank was root beer
and the closest they came to parties was when they organized a round robin M:TG
tournament with a genuine Mox Lotus as the main prize. (One of the brothers had
started early and had a few of each Mox).
Maximilian was feeling bored
and depressed and thought maybe a new video game would make him feel better, so
he headed to the Game Stop at the mall. As he was looking around for something
interesting, he glanced upon a game called BroSimulator 2K18. It sounded like a
bizarrely hilarious game, so he paid for it and went back to his fraternity
house.
@@@@@@@@@
When Maximilian got back to
the ZIT house, he showed the game to a few of his brothers. They laughed as he
said to not bother him for a few hours. Maximilian ran to his room and
installed the game onto his computer.
The main screen loaded, featuring
a cartoonish gym with various bro-types flexing and posing in front of mirrors.
Clicking on the start button, he entered the Bro Customization screen.
He inputted his name, weight
and age at the prompts, and answered all the questions that were presented as
honestly as he could. His hands were sweating in impatience. And then there he
was. A digitized version of himself was on screen.
Digitized Maximilian, DM for
short, stood in his room. Text on the screen announced that it was a tutorial,
“Getting’ Ready!” He put on some
basketball shorts and tried to put on a t-shirt like he saw the jock frat wear,
but a buzzard sounded and the game alerted him,” THE WEATHER’S FUCKING AWESOME,
BRO! SUN’S OUT, GUNS OUT, BRO, PICK SOMETHING TO SHOW OFF YOUR GUNS!” So, Maximilian
picked out a red tank top. He also put on a snapback. He exited out of the wardrobe and was
rewarded with “+2 HAPPY.” Maximilian couldn’t believe he actually did feel
a little happier.
Maximilian’s next tutorial
quest (put on some tunes) was also interrupted, telling him to choose rap
instead of classical music. He was again rewarded with more happiness. Tutorial
quest 3/3 seemed very straightforward for a bro, run to the gym. His digitized
character ran to the gym. When he got there, he got “+5 HAPPY” and “+1
PRIDE.”
At the gym, it appeared the
game was ready for the regular quests. TAKE YOUR PRE-WORKOUT made him buy pre-workout
from the counter. His avatar tried to drink it but the game alerted that he had
forgotten to add creatine (BRO, YOU’RE NOT GONNA GET GAINZ WITHOUT CREATINE.). So,
he made DM go buy some creatine from the sales counter, added it to his pre-workout,
gave it a little shake and downed it. THAT TASTED AWESOME! +5 HAPPY +1 PRIDE +2
SWOLE -3 IQ
Maximilian was even more
enthusiastic about this game. He had learned that happiness could make you
high, and he was wondering if the game was doing that to his brain somehow. He
also felt a little more energetic and was excited to see what would happen
next. GO LIFT BRO! GO LEG PRESS 200 KG! BroSimulator 2K18 told him was his next
quest.
And so, DM stacked 5 plates
on each side and proceeded to do 3 sets of 15 reps of 200kg. Maxwell didn’t
notice that in the real world, as DM did each rep, real world Maxwell’s calves,
thighs and glutes inched their way bigger and bigger until his shorts were
having slight trouble containing his muscle.
AWESOME, BRO! +5 HAPPY, +5
PRIDE, +5 SWOLE, -5 IQ
Maxwell was feeling super
proud of himself. “Fuck yeah!” He said out loud, his voice cracking. He was
feeling a little high, maybe a little foggy in the head. He knew his purpose
and he continued on to complete more quests. His next quest was to BENCH PRESS
4 PLATES.
Computer Max went to the
bench press and loaded up two plates on each side, and tried to start his
exercise. FOUR PLATES MEANS 4 ON EACH SIDE, BRO. -5 IQ
Maxwell laughed a dumb, bro
laugh, “I’m such a dumbass!” He said to no one.
And with that, Digital Max
began to do 3 sets of 12 reps. Once again, with each rep, Maxwell’s chest began
to inflate. Slowly growing bigger, and wider and rounder. Until his pecs were
filling out his shirt, almost causing the side seams to burst.
BRO-TASTIC! +5 HAPPY, +10 PRIDE, +10 SWOLE, -5 IQ
Max had never felt more
alive! He felt awesome! By this point, he had forgotten all about why he had
purchased BroSimulator 2K18 in the first place. Maxwell also didn’t notice that
his brain was running a little slower, or that he had started to refer to
himself as Max. Now, he was just totally
immersed in the game.
The game had Max lead character
Max to do various other exercises. Crunches, bicep curls, back extensions,
triceps dips, pull ups, muscle ups, lat pull downs and calf raises, racking up
massive amounts of pride, happy and swole. He did lose quite a few more IQ
points as well.
POSE IN THE MIRROR BRO!
And so, Max took off his
shirt and started a posing routine in the mirror. As his avatar did that, Max
in real life started to flex his muscles in the mirror too. “Damn, I look
fucking swole,” he thought to himself.
SWOLE BRO! +3 HAPPY +5 PRIDE +3 SWOLE -1 IQ
FRAT BRO QUEST. DO YOU ACCEPT? Y/N
Max thought that being a frat
bro would be awesome so he happily clicked on Y.
AWESOME BRO! QUEST ¼ FIST BUMP 5 FRAT BROS! 2:00
Oh shit! It was a timed quest! And how the hell would he differentiate a bro
from a frat bro? And that’s when he
noticed some of the bros in the gym had Greek letters on their tanks and
shirts. So, Max guided Digital Max to
giving fist bumps to all the bros he could find wearing Greek letters.
SWEET BRO! +3 HAPPY +4 PRIDE -2 IQ
QUEST 2/4 FIST PUMP FOR 5
MINUTES
This was pretty easy. DM went into the aerobics studio and put on
some rap music and fist pumped like a douchebag bro for 5 minutes. While DM was fist pumping, Max was fist
pumping in the real world. He had turned
up the volume on his Bose Soundlink and was losing himself in to the latest Kendrick
Lamar. As he did that, his room started
changing. A poster or Albert Einstein turned
into a poster of hot bros flexing muscles.
Trophies and awards for academic excellence turned into trophies for football,
wrestling and body building.
DM finished the required five
minutes and BroSimulator 2K18 told him:
Using a complicated mixture
of tapping buttons and moving the controller around, Max was able to get DM to
do the assigned task. Finishing the task,
Max paused the game and stood up to stretch his impressive arms. He walked to the mini fridge in the room and
chugged down a Milwaukee’s Best Ice that only an hour ago had been root beer. Wiping his mouth with his muscled forearm, Max
let out a belch of contentment, and sat down to finish up his Frat Bro quest.
FUCK YEAH BRO! +10 HAPPPY +10 PRIDE -3 SWOLE -5 IQ
QUEST 4/4 SCORE WITH A HOTTIE
Max knew exactly who to make
DM score with. The bro at the counter
had been checking him out all day. He
knew that he could tap that shit. So, DM
went to the counter and told Matty, the counter clerk that he needed help
trying on a posing strap. Matty giggled
as Max threw him into the changing room and pushed him up against the
wall. Matty enjoyed himself as Max
pounded him at maximum velocity. It was
a legendary fuck, and the bros all over the gym heard Matty’s cries of joy and ecstasy.
The computer dinged:
INCREDI-BRO! ACHIEVEMENT
UNLOCKED. JOCK FRAT BRO
+20 HAPPY +20 PRIDE + 20 SWOLE
-20 IQ
Max whooped with glee, fist
pumping in the air! He didn’t notice
that his room had further changed. His
pristine bed, becoming undone, crinkled and a bit smelly. Tanks, sleeveless shirts and basketball
shorts had materialized in random piles all over his room, and his wardrobe
completely changed to reflect his new status as a jock frat bro. Neither did he notice that there was now a dull fog in his head and that all the knowledge from his science and math classes had all left him. He was also now majoring in criminal justice. The cruise major.
All of the Greek letters on
his shirt had also changed. He was no
longer a member of ZIT fraternity, but was a proud brother of Mu Alpha Nu…
MAN. They were the cockiest, manliest
alphas of the campus and they fucking ruled!
Hell yeah!
Max looked at the time and freaked!
It was getting late and he still had to make a beer run to buy the keg
and plastic cups for the kegger at his off-campus house tonight! It was gonna be a bro-tastic party, cause he and
his bros only threw the most bro-tastic parties. He was gonna get shit-faced, and he knew he
was gonna fuck a couple of hotties tonight, but it was ok, cause he also
planned a killer workout for tomorrow.
“And I will need that report on my desk ASAP! Do you hear me?!” Richard said, talking to someone on his cellphone as he entered his Uber car.
“Richard?” The driver asked. “Says here you’re going to 5th Ave and 52nd St. Is that correct?”
“That is correct,” Richard responded. “And I will also need the Rosier files sent by fax to my hotel room..” he continued on his cellphone.
The driver had had many people like this enter his ride share vehicle. Though seldom did they exit the same person. Richard didn’t know it yet but he had hit the jackpot, or was he about to be eternally cursed? I guess it depended on one’s perspective.
“David, David? Can you here me? Hello? Anyone there?” Richard said shaking his cellphone and then slamming it down onto his thigh letting out an irritated sigh. “Fuck!”
“Cell troubles?” The driver asked.
“Yes. And it’s at the exact wrong time too. I’m working on a huge project at work right now. Very important. My boss has been riding my ass about it. It just gets so irritating sometimes! I wish I didn’t have to carry around all this stress. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this? “
“I wouldn’t worry about it. Many passengers say that they sometimes need an objective listener to just listen to their problems. Wouldn’t it be great to have an objective listener to hear what’s bothering you?”
“Yes. Having an objective listener would be great. Thanks you…” Richarf glanced down st his Uber app and for the drivers name. It only said ‘driver’ for his name.
“My name isn’t really important,( Rich. You don’t need to concern yourself with that. Don’t worry about it.
“In fact I think you will find that you are feeling nice and relaxed. The stress of the day is leaving you, and you don’t have any cares in the world. “
Richard, or was it Rich, could feel something was wrong, but he settled down into his seat anyway. Taking a few deep breathes and letting his shoulders droop.
“Rich, I think that jacket and tie are starting to feel a little constructing, don’t you? Doesn’t it feel like it’s choking you? Stifling you? Perhaps it would be better to take them off? Wouldn’t it feel nice and relaxing if you took them off?”
“Stifling. Choking. Feels better to take off,” Rich mumbled to himself as he removed his jacket and tie.
“Yes, that’s much better. Feels so good, doesn’t it?
“Now, I think you will find that you’re feeling warmer and warmer. Maybe you should take off your shirt and pants. If you take off your shorts and pants you wouldn’t feel as warm as you do now. I’m sure you want to feel cool and comfortable, and the only way to do that is to take off your shirt and pants.”
Beads of sweat had started to form on Rich’s forehead. He looked uncomfortable, until he started unbuttoning his shirt. The moment his shirt was off he let out a sigh of relief. But his legs were still very warm. Better to take off his pants too! With a deft motion, Rich let his pants pool at his feet.
“Hmmm…” The Driver thought to himself.
“I think you need to get down to five percent fat.”
“What the fuck?” Rich swore.
“Oomph!”
Rich’s body sort of sucked I’m on himself. His fat melted away, and like a vacuum-sealed package, revealed the contents below. He became instantly ripped. Well, as ripped as an office worker with no real muscle tone could look.
“What the hell?”
“And, you work out five days a week, sometimes twice a day. You’ve been doing this since you were 15.”
Rich suddenly felt all of his muscles fill with energy and begin to ache.
And Rich’s body expanded in a flash. It was like in those old cartoons when the bunny blew his finger, and suddenly inflated. But this inflation was not air. No, it was 15 years worth of solid muscle. Hard-wrought, well-earned traps, lats , pectorals, biceps, triceps, abs, quads, glutes, and calves.
“You bet I’ve been working out for 15 years,” Rich said as he flexed his 21-inch biceps.
“ think you’ve only been doing this for 5 years. You’re only 21.”
“Bro, I don’t know what I was thinking. Duh, I’m only 21.”
“And I think you need to convert IQ points to penis size. Maybe lose ten points to gain every inch, so you’re gonna ditch 50 IQ points to gain 5 inches of dick. You’re gonna have a foot long cock, when it’s hard, that is as thick as a beer bottle.”
“Ugghhh,” Rich groaned as a dumb smile appeared on his face.
“And your name is Buck Hardwood, a Southern stripper and porn star.”
“Yes, Sir, I work at the best club in New York City, Adonis,” Buck drawled.
“So, Buck, where are you from?”
“I’m from the great state of Alabama,” the newly minted Southerner replies.
“ I know I’ve seen you somewhere before,” Driver says.
“Well sir (pronounced sah), I’ve been is a few pornos. My favorite was ‘Two Bros, One Hole’. That one was super fun to do. Probably my most popular one was ‘Frat Bros are Easy’,” Buck replied.
“That’s great, Buck. And look! Here we are! Adonis nightclub, NYC.”
“Woo-hoo!” Buck cheered. “Wanna come in and watch me strip?”
“I’ll take a raincheck,” The Driver replies as Buck leaves the car. “Enjoy your new life, Buck.”
@@@@@@@ Author’s Note: So yeah, a new universe. The Driver is a semi-omniscient god. He uses his suggestions to transform people. Usually into Bros, himbo, porn stars and chavs. He doesn’t really like turning men into inanimate objects or animals. Oh, and he doesn’t only roam the streets of New York. In fact, he can start driving in New York and end up in Sweden. Have fun!
It was the beginning of the
second week of college, and I had had it!
I totally hated my roommate! My friend
from back home, Johnny, had originally signed up to be my roommate, but his
waitlist from Harvard turned into an acceptance. I couldn’t begrudge him the opportunity to
attend an Ivy League school, so, I resigned myself to getting whomever was
leftover.
On move-in day, I discovered
what or who this “leftover” would be. I
got Chad. Chad was your typical dumb
jock. At first, I tried to make the best
of it. When he burped or farted in the
room, I looked the other way.
When he
started walking around the dorm room naked, I held my tongue. When his dirty laundry started ending up on
my bed and on my side of the room, I started getting angry. But the final straw was when he was throwing
his football up and down and after a bad catch, the dam ball knocked into my limited-edition
Star Wars X-Wing drone! It was
obliterated! I think I charged him after
that… It kind of gets hazy. And I guess that’s how I found myself waking
up in a hospital room.
I later found out that Chad
had just moved to the side, and I crashed into a cement wall. I had a small concussion and nothing but my
ego had been hurt. Before I could leave
the hospital, I had been assigned a therapist for my “obvious” anger management
issues. His name was Dr. Lee. I met him once, and he seemed ok. Maybe a little too new wave for my liking,
but I made an appointment to see him the next day. When I got back to my room, Chad wasn’t around. I was feeling drained and so, plopped into my
bed and passed out.
|/////////////////////|
Dr. Lee sat in his campus office
reviewing his new patient’s file. “This
is barely enough information,” he thought to himself. “Let’s use my secret weapon.”
He opened up the Chronivac
application to see what he could find out about James Williams. He searched for his new patient and found:
Name: James Williams
Age: 19
Height: 5’5”
IQ: 145
Ethnicity: Caucasian, English
and Irish
Orientation: 25% gay
Social Class: Nerd
Assertiveness: 50% submissive
And it went on to list the sizes
of different body parts, the density of body hair and other physical and mental
characteristics.
He then went on to look up
James’ roommate Chad Rogers.
Name: Chad Rogers
Age: 19
Height: 6’2”
IQ: 90
Ethnicity: Caucasian, Italian
and Swedish
Orientation: 75% straight
Social Class: Jock
Assertiveness: 75% Dominant
And it also went on to list
the sizes of various body parts and mental characteristics.
“Hmmm…” Dr. Lee said to
himself, “How interesting.”
|/////////////////////|
The next day, James received a
shock when he entered Dr. Lee’s office.
Sitting on one of the chairs fronting the doctor’s desk was Chad!
“What are you doing here?” James asked.
“I invited him here.” Dr. Lee
replied, “I think it is very important to talk to both of you to see if we can
find some common ground. Please have a
seat James.”
James didn’t really have a
choice, so he sat down in the chair next to Chad, but scooted it as far from
him as he could. Dr. Lee scribbled some
notes.
“Thank you for coming today,
gentlemen,” Dr. Lee began. “We are here
today because of some unfortunate circumstances that occurred yesterday.
Chad guffawed. “No circumstance. Twerp tried to attack me. He’s lucky I didn’t tell the university what
really happened. He’d probably be out of
here for breaking the honors code.”
“Oh, you know the honor code,
Chad?” Dr. Lee asked.
“Yeah, Coach Mike made a big
deal about it at football orientation.
He was talking about it so that the older bros on the team wouldn’t haze
the newbies, but he mentioned that the stuff we do off the field can be held
against us cause we’re jocks and everyone is out to get us.”
“You broke my Limited-Edition
Star Wars drone with your stupid meathead horseplay!” James said. “Not only that, but your hygiene is atrocious,
and he keeps the room a pig sty!”
“Sorry bro, I didn’t know you
had a problem. You didn’t say anything.”
Dr. Lee nodded his head and
typed in something onto his computer. Suddenly
both James and Chad stopped talking and froze.
“I love this program,” Dr. Lee thought.
He once again pulled up James’
profile and made a few changes. He knew
what was wrong here. Soon James had
become Jimmy. And just for fun, he made
a few changes to Chad too. He applied
changes to all, making him the only one who knew what had transpired and
watched the show.
James, now Jimmy, shot up to six
feet tall. For a brief second he looked
like a skin and bones skeleton. Then
slowly, meat was added to his bones.
Calves growing to the size of footballs.
Thighs becoming the size of tree trunks.
His core strengthened as his 1-pack became a 4-pack and finally a
6-pack. His chest inflated becoming a
solid plate of muscle, blocking him from seeing his now size 15 feet. His traps grew almost reaching the bottom of
his jaw, and his neck thickened past 18 inches.
Jimmy’s arms grew, his biceps
and triceps growing to the size of most people’s heads. His forearms became the size of most people’s
thighs, and his hands grew calloused and huge.
So powerful he could pop a basketball with one hand! His lats widened and spread out, and his ass
filled out ballooning out like two perfect basketballs suspended out perpendicular
to the ground. And Jimmy’s dick grew,
and grew and grew. Now as thick as a
beer can and over 11 inches long, Jimmy didn’t have a trouser snake, he had a
trouser python.
And then the mental transformation
happened. He started forgetting most of
his junior and senior years of high school.
He now had started playing football ever since he could walk. He was Chad’s favorite wide receiver since
they met in 2nd grade. The two
had just hit it off and were best bros.
They had competed with each other for the best chicks and when it was
time to go to college, of course they were going to be roommates!
Then something weird happened
in the summer. Chad kissed him! Jimmy’s first impulse had been to push Chad
away, but he realized that he liked the kiss too! Right there they ripped off each other’s
clothes and spent it exploring each other’s bodys in the woods the whole
night.
So, why the fuck was he in a
doctor’s office?
Dr. Lee said, “Well,
gentlemen. I think that’s all I need for
the team’s psych evals. Thanks for coming.”
Oh, right, football psych
evals. That’s why we were here! He looked up at Chad. “Let’s get out of here boo.”
Chad smiled. “Yeah. I have this new ‘game’ I’d like to play with
you,” he said as he fingered the leather collar he had found in his
pocket.
Himbo, Muscle Growth and Dumbing Down Stories 