Jocking, The: Adam Turner

Seeing What Cannot Be Seen


By CallMeCrazy

"Maybe I should stay?" Adam asked James yet again. Still throwing up, James had resigned himself against venturing to the football game. And despite his reservations, Adam was very concerned for this friend.

"No, . . .way. I won those tickets. Someone is going!"

Adam arrived at the stadium twenty minutes later. Crowds thronged toward the huge gate, welcoming visitors to The Base. Adam watched for another twenty minutes, happy to let the obsessed fans fight their way inside before he made an entrance.

Walking down the merchandise filled path, Adam studied the image of the Soldierís quarterback, a man who was prophesied to lead them to victory. Brock Cast. The image of Brock was taken at odd angles, giving every portion of his muscular body unreal proportions. Fans lapped up the distorted images, buying most every product available.

"Who would want some of this crap?" Adam asked aloud, viewing cheap cardboard cut outs that were selling fast.

As the kickoff approached, the hordes of fans disappeared, heading toward their seats to watch the opening. Adam continued to stroll along, enjoying the open space. Finally poking his head out to witness the kick, Adam gazed upon the football team for the first time. It was hard to tell from such a distance, but their uniforms looked odd. The black material stretched so valiantly to cover their bodies. As one man walked away, Adam stared at his enormous ass. Each cheek thrusting against the material, bouncing up and down with every motion of the body.

"Huh, thatís . . . odd." At that moment, the game began. Adam watched for some time, entranced by the monstrous bodies and the unreal plays. The Soldiers were so coordinated, and Brock really was amazing. Every pass was perfect, each jock performing perfectly. The Atlanta Falcons were being crushed in the first minutes of the game.

Adam snapped back to attention when he noticed that Brock had been sacked, but somehow had landed on top. Numbers 56 and 97 were both still beneath Brockís girth. Even after getting up, they seemed strangely dazed. Brock walked into his locker room as the two players went into their own.

"Football had been used to destroy peopleís sense of individuality." Adam repeated the words to himself unconsciously. They entered his head again as he heard himself speak. At once, all manner of research flowed to the front of his mind.

"Maybe, . . . I should look."

Beneath the stand, Adam saw that the once crowded aisles were now totally empty, even the sellers had packed up their goods. No concessions were selling, the silence was all encompassing.

"Or maybe Iím asking someone to kill me. I mean, come on? No one is around. Anywhere? Well, if I donít do something because I am afraid, what have I sacrificed of myself?"

The path downstairs was unguarded, and Adam proceeded without delay further. The lower levels of the stadium were quite unlike topside. A maze of passages wrapped the halls into a hell of confusion. Unsure of how to proceed, Adam simply followed a path and was pleasantly surprised by finding the locker rooms. It was the visitor side, currently stocked with the Falconís personal effects and equipment. The two players were no where to be found, and Adam wondered if perhaps they had already gone upstairs. He was quite sure they hadnít when he found two jersey tossed on the ground. Further away where helmets, and up ahead were shoulder pads and pants. The line of gear led to a small door in the back, disguised to look like a broken locker. The hallway was park, but the path was straight. And it was not long before Adam exited.

The Soldierís lockers came into view as Adam stepped out of the passage. The two players were standing, naked, in the room. One was bent over on all fours and rocking back and forth. His body gained muscle and definition as he walked. When his sausage finally spewed, a huge bodybuilder got up. The other man than bent down in the same position and waited.

Moving to side a little, Adam could see a huge cock being thrust into the manís ass. The jock took it, and rocked as the other had. Too, his body engorged with thick muscle. He came as well, and the two new super jocks suited up in tight, black Soldier uniforms. Adam moved out a little further to see Brock pulling on his tight pants.

The huge quarterback looked up to see Adam staring at him. •

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