Rules of a Jock


By claygrant

I stared down at Ted's handsome, square-jawed face. Ted had a body most guys would kill for I guessed 6 feet and 220 pounds of solid, ripped muscle. But now he didn't seem so impressive. Maybe it was because Clay's massive hand was clamped around Ted's neck, forcing him into a kneeling position. No, it was something else. I felt oddly powerful and confident; my whole body was sweating like I had just worked out for hours and my muscles were getting tighter by the second. I walked up to Ted and glared at him.

"You asshole, who do you think you are?" I demanded. Although I was completely naked a state that usually put me into embarrassed get-the-hell-out-of-there mode I didn't feel ashamed in the least. In fact I felt oddly proud of my body, as scrawny as it was at 5'6 and 150 or so pounds.

Despite my angry verbal lashing, Ted's handsome face broke into a cocky grin. He spat at me and said, "I'm just a stud who happens to be much bigger than you so a little respect would do agggh!" Ted's little speech was cut off as Clay pulled Ted's head back sharply.

Clay's deep voice resonated through the trailer. "Brad, punch him."

I blinked. "What?"

"I said, punch him. Punch him in the fuckin face," Clay said sternly.

I felt my fingers dig into my palm as I made a fist. Tentatively, I wound up and swung at Ted's right cheek. BAM! But Ted didn't even budge his head. He just grimaced and spat, "You pussy. What was tha---" Again, he was cut off as Clay pulled his head back sharply.

"Punch the fucker again, Brad. This time give it all you got." Clay motioned with his free hand towards Ted's handsome face. Then with a wink, Clay bounced his bulging pecs: first his left, then his right, then both at once. I was almost sidetracked by the display of such muscularity.

Not wanting to disappoint my stud, I swung as hard as I could. THWACK! This time, Ted grunted and his head spun to the left as my fist connected with his jaw. I felt powerful. I grinned up at Clay.

"Good job, soldier! Now watch this, a REAL man's punch." Clay pulled up on Ted's neck, forcing him to stand. Ted's eyes grew wide as he realized what was about to happen.

"Clay, no---" CRACK!! Clay's rock-like fist smashed across Ted's face, crumpling him immediately. Ted fell to the floor ungracefully, the muscled rugby jock lying naked in a heap.

"Fuck yeah!! Did you see that!? That's one for the highlight reels." Clay grinned at me and leaned down to inspect me at my eye level. My body glistened in the dim light and I felt oddly sticky. "Looks like you got the gel and his stuff all over your cute little body. Two ingredients for my muscle building recipe. You know what we gotta do now, right? Find some hot water. Stay here, I'll be right back."

Clay turned, looked at Ted's unconscious form, and almost walked out the door before I realized he wasn't wearing anything. "Clay!!" I yelled. "Your shorts..."

My personal muscle stud chuckled and shrugged his bulky shoulders. "I know.. just seein if you would've said somethin!" He grabbed his athletic shorts and pulled them on. Then he pulled open the trailer door, letting in the bright afternoon sun.

As I waited, I studied Ted's magnificent body. He was definitely a stud, and worked hard to get his muscles so developed and ripped. Veins adorned his muscle-packed arms, and his mounds of pecs would test the fabric of most normal sized t-shirts. I looked at my own body, which had no definition whatsoever. Yet I felt stronger than I ever had been. My body was slightly quivering, as if wanting to be put into action. Before I could lament on my weak physique any longer, the door opened again and Clay walked in with two large water jugs, the kind offices put upside-down to dispense.

Clay effortlessly carried the large jugs over to me and let them fall to the ground. THUD-THUD-THUD, the jugs vibrated. "Well we're in luck, my man. These jugs were left out in the sun all day, so they're piping hot! Stand up."

I stood up to my full height of five feet and six inches. My eyes were level with Clay's enormous chest, and suddenly I felt very weak again. That chest just screamed power, the perfect armor-plate pecs that jutted out from his torso. "You ready to get some real muscles, little man? Muscles like mine?" Clay put on his game face and leaned down into a most muscular. His thick, swollen shoulders bulged madly. His biceps exploded with the intesity of his flexing, thick veins jumping to attention all over his forearms and up the peak of his biceps. His pecs squeezed together forming a vicious cut between them. His abs formed a mesmerizing sixpack of razor sharp definition, like muscle-filled ravioli. Through gritted teeth, Clay grumbled, "It's about fuckin time. I've waited for this moment, Brad. Here we go."

Without warning, Clay unscrewed a jug, lifted it above my head, and turned it upside-down. Scalding hot water burned my head and shoulders as it splashed all around, but I didn't care. This was it. I wanted to be huge, to be a stud like Clay. To have muscles that people would stop, notice, and beg to see. Nobody was going to stop me now. I closed my eyes.

After the first jug of water was empty, I opened my eyes and Clay's pecs came into focus. I looked up at him then quickly at my own body. "Nothing's happening?" I asked, scared that my dream would be taken away now.

"Just wait, little man. Here comes the second round." Clay hoisted the second jug with ease and poured its hot contents all over my body. The trailer floor was totally ruined by all the water, but I didn't care. I was going to be fuckin huge!

When the second jug was empty, I shivered in the sudden absence of heat. I glanced down at my body and began to cautiously flex my arms the only flex I knew how to do. I brought my arms up into a double biceps and noticed that they bulged more than I had remembered... but still nothing compared to Clay or Ted's development.

"Lookin good, stud..." Clay eyes looked over my muscles approvingly. "Now that the hot water activated the gel, you're good to go. But the growth will take several hours "

"Several hours?!" I yelled. "Fuck, I want muscles, NOW!" I stopped, taken aback at my outburst. What was happening?

Clay put up his meaty hands. "Whoa whoa, Brad, calm down. I got an idea though. Follow me." Clay walked towards the door with that saunter reserved for only the hugest guys. Thick quads rolled around each other, fighting for space, while broad shoulders swayed dangerously as he shifted his weight.

"Here, take these..." He grabbed a shirt and shorts from the stacks of clothes that were sitting in the corner of the trailer. "Let's see... ah hah, we got a size SMALL here... fuck, no wonder these clothes are here. Nobody on the team wears a SMALL. Must be extras to sell during the game for the kids."

I felt a pain in my heart as Clay described who would wear size small shirts. I wore them all the time. Reluctantly, I put on the shirt and shorts but realized they were a bit snug. "Hey these feel tight..." I grinned as I noticed the t-shirt's front said "Warriors FOOTBALL" and the letters were stretched nicely across my chest.

"Yep, dude, just wait and see what happens to your shirt in a few hours. You are gonna wear some XXL shirts by the time I'm done with you." Clay winked. "See, the growth isn't gonna end in only a few hours. I got it all planned out tonight." Then he leaned down and kissed me on the lips.

I didn't have time to react; I was completely surprised by the move. His afternoon stubble scratched my face and felt absolutely comforting. Before I could kiss him back, he stood up to his full 6'4, sighed, and looked at me expectantly. "Well, stud? You first."

I pushed open the door of the trailer, my dick hard from receiving a kiss from such a muscled stud. Totally forgetting about Ted's unconcious body, I stepped out of the trailer, prepared to become a new man. A fuckin stud, like Clay.

Clay led us back to the bench where he had pushed up a ton of weight in the middle of a circle full of thickly muscled studs. By now, the activities fair was winding down and nobody was even around the bench. The bench looked almost peaceful, standing alone in a grassy field. Four 45-pound plates were on each side.

Clay clapped his hands together and looked genuinely excited. "Okay, stud. You are gonna get your first workout and see results faster than anyone could imagine. How's your shirt feeling? Nice and tight?"

I nodded. My shirt felt almost constrictive now, choking my upper arms, restricting my chest. I wanted to get out of the size small shirt. To grow out of my former size and become a fuckin muscle jock.

"All right, then get on the bench. I'll spot you, if you trust me." He flexed his massive upper body for me playfully, first his biceps, then his pecs, then a side chest pose that probably got everyone in the vicinity looking in our direction. Clay threw off the plates so only one 45-pound plate was on each side. Not having worked out, I didn't know how much I could lift, but that looked way too heavy for me.

I got under the bar and looked up at Clay's square-jawed face. He put on a game face and scowled. "Before we start, you gotta learn some rules of being a fuckin muscle jock like me. RULE NUMBER ONE! You live to lift. You lift to get big, so lift fuckin hard!!"

I placed my hands on the bar and pushed up. The bar didn't budge. "Fucker!!" Clay screamed I was sure everyone around us could hear him. "Push harder!"

I scrunched my eyes and pushed as if a car were on top of me. I began to grunt in a low voice, "Argghhhhhhhhh!" I heard Clay's voice egg me on. "Come on, pussy. Push it up! A fuckin baby could handle this weight."

To my surprise, I felt my arms lock and the barbell weight come to a stop. I opened my eyes the weight was suspended above me! "Fuck yeah, bro!!" Clay shouted. "Now come on, one more."

I lowered the weight slowly somehow it seemed easier now. I had full control over the weight as it lowered. I glanced down and saw the words "Warriors Football" stretched tautly across my chest. Clay was right. He lifted about three times as much weight. This was gonna be fuckin easy.

With Clay's words of encouragement, I pushed up the weight this time, with my eyes fully open. "Again, fucker!" I heard Clay yell. Grinning, I lowered the weight and pushed it up again. It felt even lighter now. Before I knew it, I was pumping out rep after rep, the weight becoming less and less a burden. Fuck, was I getting stronger?

Soon I reached a point when the weight didn't matter anymore my chest was burning and the "Warriors Football" logo was almost unreadable, drawn out as it was over my swelling pecs.

"All right, enough!" Clay ordered. I racked the weight obediently. "Stand up. How do you feel?"

I stood up and felt oddly unbalanced. My chest was pumped up so much, the bottom of my t-shirt crept up my stomach. "Fuck, that felt good. I mean GOOD." I reached up with my hands to feel my own chest. They were warm and felt rock hard. I felt every part of my pecs: the valley between them, the hanging muscle above my abs, around the sides where they felt so tough I couldn't dent them.

"Fuck yeah, man. You must have used more gel than I ever did. Look at that fuckin CHEST!" Clay walked over and groped my swollen pecs. I noticed some bystanders were watching us, but Clay turned my head back to face him. "Fuck them. RULE NUMBER TWO! You're a fuckin muscle stud, so fuck anyone who gives a shit. If they mess with you, then you fuck em up with nothin but your muscle!"

I nodded. It was just Clay and my new muscle packed body now. Who cares what those idiots think?

"Flex those pecs for me, stud." Clay ordered.

I grinned sheepishly. "I don't know how..." I never had any pec muscle to flex until now, so the act of flexing was a foreign concept.

Clay chuckled. "Not used to having so much muscle eh? You just pretend you're on the bench pushing up your final rep. Once you get the hang of it, you'll never want to stop. It feels fuckin awesome, especially when you can get someone's attention with it." He demonstrated by slowly flexing his right pec, then his left, the muscle rippling underneath, the beastly power completely at his command.

I tried to flex my right pec, but I ended up flexing my right arm instead. Clay laughed and punched me in the shoulder, which sent me stumbling backwards my legs weren't used to the weight from my new chest.

"Nevermind, we'll have some flexing lessons later, when you have even more muscle."

I smirked and felt disappointed for a second, but the thought of having even more muscle took control. "Hell yeah, how much more will I get? This chest is fuckin amazing, but I want MORE!"

Clay laughed. "Let's just say you're still a fuckin runt right now. Come on, let's get you to the univeristy gym for a serious workout. Once you burst out of that shirt, you'll need an upgrade to a size MEDIUM shirt."

I eagerly followed my muscle stud across campus. Unsurprisingly, many students stopped to stare at the sight of Clay's shirtless, jaw-dropping body. "Hey, isn't that Grant, the freshman fullback?" people would whisper and point. Girls openly ogled Clay's overdeveloped bulk, and some even yelled out his name, while guys slyly checked him out as well.

Clay looked so much like the jock stereotype, yet he wasn't in so many ways. He was my childhood friend, all huge and studly now, tutoring me in the ways of jockhood. I envisioned us on the football field together, chillin in the room together... maybe even being together? I didn't know what I wanted. All I could really think about was how good my chest felt.

People stared at my chest, which was obviously misproportioned. My arms, shoulders, and legs were still about the same size of my old self. I felt self-conscious until I remembered Clay's rule number two: fuck em. Yeah, that's right. Anybody who looks twice will get their ass kicked when I'm Clay's size. Looking ahead at Clay's thickly muscled back, I salivated at the thought of having that kind of body in just a few hours. Fuck, I wanted it bad. I enjoyed the reactions as Clay passed by. Soon, this is how people will react to me. Since I'll look like a muscle stud, I had better act like one. I decided to put on my own game face and stare down anyone who had the nerve to look me in the eye. •

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