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Jocking, The: Kai Cole
|I am never going back to school. I will stay in the auditorium until the end of the day, only because guards are blocking the exits. They must have high hopes for the day. The thing is, this makes sense to a point. The Chem plant fire, Briggs having the XAP, I bet Briggs killed my parents. And Darrenís. Bastard. It also makes sense. He bent reality a lot. They must have been past 7 or 8, it was probably on XAP10. And TAN1, injected in me, prevents it. So, I see what cannot be seen. Fuck me. I donít have a clue what to do. And all the while I sit and hide waiting to get off this hell bound ride. I donít write my own lyrics for a reason, my songs are awful. I just say no to any song that I think is bad. What was that book in Briggsí office? Was it random? I just, think that everything makes sense, or would make sense if I knew something. Really, just the motives. And how XAP works. And what Briggs was doing at the Chem plant. Bastard, killed my parents. Iím sure of it. I wonder how everyone in the school is? Itís fourth hour, probably a lot of Jocking happening. And there was. Brock fucked about twenty guys in the bathroom, most of whom become defensive tackles, like himself. Stacker had invented fun method to convert offensive linemen. He created a meat platter and challenged guys to eating contests. As the other guy ate, he slowly bulked up, putting on over three hundred pounds in a few minutes. Veins would being popping out of the guys body as he slowly descended into a mental fog, where he would remain forever. Stacker would take them down to the room, where they would be mentally altered into offensive linemen, strong and mindless. Stacker enjoyed his mammoth posse, and challenged dozens of guys throughout the day. If any said no, the linemen would shove the food down his throat until he started crazing the feeling of football in every bite. Hunter stayed with Briggs all day, helping him convert the men. Meanwhile, Brute and Rod used clothes to make the men. The gym scheme worked on a few guy. While David Masterson was showering after second period gym, they took his briefs and exchanged them with an identical pair that would work for them. As he put them, David only noticed that they didnít seem worn. He put on his other clothes and proceeded with his day. During the next hour, Davidís dick began to itch and it wouldnít stop. David spent most of the hour trying to scratch himself without anyone noticing. By the end of the hour; however, David didnít give a shit who saw him. Hell, every guy scratched his nuts, it was fucking natural. David couldnít believe how much he was swearing mentally and orally. His dick seemed to be getting bigger through the day, and he clothes all seemed tighter. His shirt was about to split two hours after gym, and he excused himself to the restroom. He flexed and snapped off his clothes in the bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. Huge veins roped around his body, now covered in muscle. He had gone from 5'5 157 pounds to 6'0 275lbs. As he struggled to get off his pants, he noticed that something was odd about his briefs. Scratching his ass in confusion, he discovered that nothing covered his rear. His briefs had become a jock strap, one that barely contained his huge 9 inch cock. And that cock demanded attention. He yanked and pulled on his big cock. Completely absorbed in the sexual lust, David failed to notice Brute and Rod come in. He was too busy using his fucking tool. His big fucking machine. Fucking himself. Yeah, it felt great. Big wads of cum showered the sinks in the boys bathroom. The muscular David turned around to notice Brute and Rod staring at him. "What the fuck do you fuckers fucking want?" Did I just say that David thought. Yeah, I fucking did. What the fuck of it. "Fuck nothing," Rod answered. "Youíre just one big mother fucker," Brute finished. "With some training, you would be a fucking awesome fucking football player." "No fucking way," David answered. "I donít play fucking dumb games, like fuckiní football and other fucking shit." "Well, fucker, tell me if you change your fucking mind," Brute said. "Here dude," Rod said. "You ripped your fucking old clothes. Here are some new ones for you fucker." "Thanks, fuckers, if I fucking need any of you fucking help Iíll fucking let you know." David began to put on the clothes. It was a tight shirt and jeans, along with some football cleats. "Damn fuckers," David thought. I ainít no fucking jock. Shit! These shoes are cleats. Gotta fuckin wear em. Damn fuckers." David however like the feeling of the cleats. Hey those guys were trying help him He should be nice. He chased them into the hall. "Hey, stop fuckers. Thanks for your fuckin help, bastards." "No sweat fucker, hey, what you fucking doing at lunch?" "Fuck nothing, fuckers." "Come with us you fucking dickhead." So David went to lunch with them. The guys grew on David, he started liking the fuckers, and they really wanted him on their team. "Fuck, I could try," David finally gave in. "Great, fucker," Brute and Rod said. As the meal progressed, David was slowly growing out of his clothes. He had gained another 100 pounds and three more inches. "Hey fucker," Rod pointed to his clothes, "Youíre fucking coming out of your fuckin duds." "Fuck, fuckers." It was true, he would soon rip the clothes apart. "Fuck, Iíll fucking give you some of my clothes. But first, will you mash this can?" Brute asked. "What?" "Fucking mash this fucking can on your fucking face." "Fuck yeah," David said as he took the can and slammed it into his nose so hard it shattered his nose. A small amount of blood trickled out. "Dude, fucker," Rod spoke up. "Youíre a fucking masher." "Yeah, youíre fucking the fucking Masher." "Fuck yeah," David said. David agreed to change back at the school. The blood coming out of his nose had been replaced by a slightly thicker juice. Brute and Rod took him into the locker room and gave him a pair of white tights and shirt. "Fuck dude, I fucking canít wear this fucking shit." "Why the fuck not. We fucking do." "But you fuckers are on the fucking football team." "So the fuck are you, Masher." Davidís prick began to bark again, and the huge boy began manhandling himself. In front of other guys, hell he didnít care. His prick demanded some attention, and was going to give it. "It feels go fucking good. Oh, fuck yeah, fucking feel that." And he spewed again. This time, it wasnít cum, but a thicker substance, like bile. The veins bugled out of his body as the 500 pound 6'9 giant Masher got up. He was the fucking center of the fucking team. He fucking snapped the ball and mashed the fucking other team away from the fucking ball. Fuck yeah. Masher put on the tights and turned around to see Briggs. He just laughed and smacked the boyís ass. The three football players left the room, another great conversion. |
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