Brock was eager to begin his professional football career. It was all he could ever remember wanting. Not necessarily the sport, but the power. The control he had over the team. That was something for which he had yearned.

Adam returned to the apartment, expecting James to be sitting at the table. Instead he found another note, explaining that he had a huge project, and the group was working late. Adam slumped into a chair, bored. He wanted to go out, but really only enjoyed nightlife with James. Instead, he pulled out his Government book and began to pour over an assignment given that day. Fisher wanted the students to research a mistake in some tracking system. In other words, find some conspiracy. Adam already had an idea. He found a website dedicated to the belief that sports were being used to undermine personal identity and brainwash the younger generation.

"Of course," Adam spoke aloud to himself, "this would be much easier if he gave an idea what he was looking for in the paper."

Adam scanned over papers of athletes committing crimes and getting away with felonies. None of it really struck Adam as odd which he decided was him being cynical. He decide to open the next paper and use whatever he could find. The paper was from Nebraska and was about a month old. It talked about a gas fire at a high school locker room.

"No one was hurt," Adam read. "But, the town . . . ." Adam read a description of the town that sounded very familiar. He pushed the hazy image from his mind and settled on the topic. This would be easy, sports teams taking care of someone who caused them trouble. Adam began typing furiously, allowing his bizarre ideas to pour onto the screen.

Stacker’s path had lead him directly south from Nebraska, and he found himself on a college campus in Oklahoma. Whereas Mike had been an unbendable prude, Stacker was the life of the party. And he wanted to party. But to get in, he needed a college friend. Wednesday’s weren’t the best, but parties could always be found. Stacker determined the fraternity he needed to convert, and found the perfect target. He was tall and fat, and he said that he just came from practice. Stacker realized that he must be an offensive lineman. Aside from his brute factor, the man was cute. Stacker needed him converted badly, and he had the machine that Hunter had given him. It was all he needed.

Mitch waved good-bye to his fraternity brother and was about to proceed into the building when he was approached by another guy. He wasn’t a normal guy, he was huge. He looked like a professional bodybuilder but with an extra bit of confidence in his step.

"Woah, hey dude!" The other man addressed him.

"S’up dude?"

"Hey, you’re on the football team?"

"What of it?"

"Fuck man, I’m touring the campus, cause I might come here next year."

"You’re in high school."

"Yeah, dude. And I need to talk to the coach. About scholarships and shit."

"Okay dude. Hey, lemme change first. You ever think about pledging?"

"Hell yeah," Stacker said as Mitch led him into the house.

Mitch let Stacker wait in his room while he took a quick shower. Once he was gone, Stacker began to root through Mitch’s belongings. Nothing he didn’t expect to find- clothes, some personal articles, and condoms. Now all he had to do was bend. His name was Mitch . . . and he was an offensive lineman. Stacker always wanted a brother, Mike and Mitch Stackers. Nothing else about him had to change mentally, all that was needed were some physical adjustments. At 275 pounds, Mitch was a big guy. Stacker just needed the fat to be firm. Now, how about crazing some . . . food.

It was a few minutes later when Mitch Stacker strutted through the door. He was already different, he eyes had more of a gaze to them and his language was altered.

"Hey bro," Mitch nodded at Stacker.

"Yo, dude."

"Fuck man, I am so hungry. Wanna get some meat?"

"Sure."

They went to a buffet on the back fo the campus. No one ate at this store, aside from the biggest guys in campus. It was a perfect spot. Mitch loaded his plate up on the first trip with a variety of foods. The boys ate in silence. Mitch tried to eat like a civilized human, but was unable to control the urges inside him, telling him to eat and eat. Stacker watched in amusement as Mitch’s face lost the chubbiness it once contained, and his jaw became hard and square. His once hanging gut had moved up his chest, leaving his upper body a mass of jelly. The second plate lacked the variety of the first, totally composed of red meats. Mitch scarfed down the food mercilessly, covering his face in animal liquids. The mound of jelly that had been his chest began to firm, showing the pronounced outline of two pecs against his tightening shirt. His huge shoulders led to two thick arms, each tearing the seams of the sleeves. Scratching at his ass unconsciously, the fat bullock was replaced with two hard stones. The bottom of his shirt hung above his hard abs. His loose boxer shorts had been replaced by tight briefs, the elastic band showing over his stretched pants. Mitch’s legs were so thick that every cut was visible on the outside of his faded jeans. He strutted off to get more food and returned with another plate of meat. Beyond manners, he scarfed down the food in a few minutes. He let out a burp to show his completion. Stacker smiled as his new brother was complete. Stackers got up from their table and strutted off. They were identical twin brothers now, each in college, and each ready to drink the night away with their fraternity brothers. Also anxious to jock the brothers, they hurried out, preparing for the night. •