Jocking, The: Third Quarter



By CallMeCrazy

[b]11:00: Ten Yard Run

[/b]Moments after Kai left his site, Adam could feel the heavy weight of a beast bearing down on his body. Brock was slowly leaning into him, a suggestive smile on his face.

"What are you doing?" Adam said, playfully smacking Brockís head off his shoulder.

"Flirting. What does it look like?"

"Like youíre trying to crush me."

"Sorry," he said, pulling Adam up and against his chest. Adam laid his head against the massive pectoral, feeling the heavy weight move up and down with each breathe.

"So, you took Kai away."

"Yeah, Briggs has some master plan, Iím sure."

"You just follow orders."

"No," Brock laughed. "I just pretend to. Iím laying low."

"Until when?"

"When all my pieces are here. Once my toys arrive, then the real fun beings."

"Whatever," Adam said, standing up and moving a few paces away. "Hey Brock?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Why do you want me?"

"Cause youíre so hot!"

"No, I mean, to be like you. To join you."

Brock looked confused for a moment before smiling brazenly.

""Because, weíre the same. You and me."

"What? What do you people mean?"

"You know, I donít know it that well, but your in the prophecy."

"What? Iím Prophecy Boy?"

"Look, I donít know quite how to explain it. But basically it speaks of the two halves- the light and the night. And when they are united, there power is omnipotent."

"So, what? I make you invincible."

"Us. Itís not just me. We would be in control."

"So, you canít win without me?"

"Oh no, I can. I will. Itís just that, if we unite, than darker aspects of the prophecy donít come true."


"War, battle. Instead we get unity. Thatís why our eyes are the same. We arenít born normal men. We are built for higher purpose."

"And this is a higher purpose."

"World peace? Yeah, pretty high."

"But at what cost?"

"Adam, how can you not appreciate it for what it is? Theyíre happy and healthy. No one is forced, in the end, they all accept."

"Except me."

"Itís not the end for you, yet."

"Why canít you force me and Kai to change?"

"We think it has to do with some chemical, TAN1. Kaiís parents developed it. They did research on XAP too. Thatís the chemical we use of the jocking."

"XAP and TAN1?"

"Apparently TAN1 is designed to prevent the affects of XAP. It doesnít really matter, since Hunter has developed a more powerful XAP."

"So, eventually it will be strong enough."

"Honestly, we donít know. Weíre breaking Kai, but only under extreme circumstances. You stood in a stadium overflowing with powerful XAP, more than Kaiís ever experienced, and yet you had no reaction at all."

"So, Iím different."

"Like me."

"Huh. Thatís . . . different. But why did you change?"

"Cause I wanted what they gave me. This is my destiny and I embraced it. Besides, no TAN1 exposure, so I had no immune system for it."

"And I do?"

"Why is your hair that color?"

"Bicolored? A few months, I had this freak accident . . ."

"I know, a chemical rain. About the same time as a chemical fire, which destroyed ChemCorp Plant five, developing TAN1. The place where Kaiís parents worked. My birth parents were reporters on the scene. Did you notice Kaiís hair, itís like yours."

"You mean . . ."

"The rain, prophecy. Itís all coming true. Following a perfect pattern that you canít see unless you can see all the pieces. Even I didnít really get it until I met you. Then I understood, my destiny, my role."

"And what is that?"

"I," Brock stood up and stretched out his arms, displaying his huge, vascular muscles. "I will control the world. I will save the world. I will be the quarterback of all humanity."

Adam rolled his eyes and laughed.

"Thatís nice."

"And you," Brock said. "I control the offense. You control the defense. My brick wall linebacker."

"Thanks, but no thanks. Iíll be a thorn in your side."

"Suit yourself. But sooner or later, youíll have to confront your deepest desires."

"Brock, to pull yet another pop culture reference out of my ass, allow me to speak one of my favorite quotes ever. ĎMy house has many rooms. I occupy but a few. The rest lay unvisited.í Get the picture?"

"Where is that from?"

"Fag land. Point being, there may be other parts of myself I donít know, but Iím not going to embrace them. I have a self, a life. And no one, not you or Briggs or some higher power, can stop me."

"Kid, I gotta tell you. You are the higher power."


Chloe stared over the boy, beautiful though unconscious. She really had no idea what to do, but managed to curse up a storm trying to rouse him.

A slight twitch in his face caused Chloe to lean over further, staring down at the boy. Kaiís eyes slowly filtered open, to reveal the site of two mammoth breasts covering his face.

"Are you awake? Finally. Iím Chloe Barnette, Iíll be your rescuer today."

"What? Adam?"

"No, Chloe! C-H-L-O-E. And you are?"

"Kai Cole."

"Chi? Like the Greek letter?"

"Holding out for a hero . . ." And Kai passed into darkness. Chloe let out a depressed sigh as she straddled the now unconscious boy. Hair fell over her face which she blew away with a quick breath.

"Chi Cole, huh? Cute name. Cute kid. Wish you would wake up. We have to get out of here."


Dillard Peterson couldnít have been more surprised. Being released on bail because a few guys on the football team had vouched for his whereabouts on the night in question. Not only was it a total lie, he wasnít even friends with the boys. Wasnít even remotely associated with the jocks. In fact, as a bonafide street thug, he was pretty much their polar opposite.

As the officer walked him to the front of the station, Dillard was greeted by the site of two well built muscle jocks. Vaguely recognizing them as the halfback Stud and cornerback Man, he greeted the two warmly, trying to keep up the appearance of a realistic reunion. He shook their hands firmly and smacked them, hard, on their chiseled backs. Dillard was impressed with their tough physique.

Standing at 250 pounds and 6'5, Dillard was still slightly overshadowed by the huge athletes. Deep muscles curved over his padded body. Known as a real bear of a man, thick black hair coated most of his body, from legs and arms to chest and part of the back. Dillard was always proud of the fur, siting it as a sign of his testosterone filled body.

Once the three burly men sat down inside the truck Man and Stud had driven over, Dillard finally spoke.

"So," he said in a gruff voice. "What do I owe you fuckers for helping me out?"

"Oh not much dude," Man replied in a deeper and thicker voice than Dillard had ever heard. "Just trying to help out."

"Really, awfully generous of ya. What do you want?"

"Just go through a little . . initiation," Stud answered.


"You just have to sit through the football team initiation."

"What? No fucking way! I ainít no goddam jock!"

"Wanna go back inside?" Man gestured towards the building. "We can dump you right here."

"Woah boys, letís not get ahead of ourselves. I just got other things to do than play football. Thatís all."

ĎWe didnít say you had to play, dude. We just want you to go through the initiation. Then you can go."

"Initiation huh? Whatís it about?"

"Not much, just some hazing. Nothing you canít survive, dude."

"Well, for you boys, I guess I can do it."

Man and Stud drove Dillard back without another word. He followed them silently into the locker room of the football stadium. They led him to the showers and turned toward him.

"Take your clothes off."

"What the fuck? What is this shit?"

Stud picked up a small razor off a table nearby.


"No fucking way!"

"Dude, itís not big deal. Just a shave down."

"I ainít gonna let you take my hair."

"Dude, relax. Itíll grow back."


"I donít really see how you have any options. Itís this, or prison."

"Fuck man. Fine."

Dillard threw off his tight shirt and baggy pants, revealing two thick thighs and a pair of tight boxer briefs. The two jocks nodded and Dillard proceeded to remove the tight underwear, displaying his eight inch cock, covered in a forest of thick, curly pubes. Beneath the hair, a few tattoos were visible. Symbols for anarchy and some band adored each side of his hips. And on his back was a snake through a skull.

Without his clothes on, Dillard resemble more of a beast man than a normal human being. Shrugging his shoulders, Dillard stared at the two other men.

"Well, you gonna do it?" Stud and Man smiled, scooped up some shaving gel and began to lather up his legs. Dillard stood, his posture perfectly erect, feet shoulder width apart, as the two man covered his thighs in creamy white gel.

"Ready?" the two jocks grunted simultaneously.

"Letís get it on." And the two placed a blade on each leg and stroked upward. A cold shiver went through Dillardís body, and a kind of warm pleasure hit his body. Small but pronounced.

"Itís not so bad."

"Uh, no . . ." The football players struck again, leaving yet another portion of his body hairless and smooth. Without the hair, his quads looked bigger, thicker. They seemed to glisten in the fluorescent light. Each stroke sent small chills down Dillardís spine, exciting shakes of satisfaction.

With his two tights completely hairless, Stud and Man stepped back to admire their work.

"You look fucking hot, dude." Dillard stared at his reflection in a mirror. His thighs had never looked so good. Filled with thick meat, veins inching through the deep crevices left my hours of squats. He was impressed just how much more muscular he looked without the hair. Rubbing his hand slowly over the denude space he let out a small sigh.

"Itís not so bad," he smiled slightly. "For now, I mean. Whatever to get out of jail."

"Yeah Dude!"

Next Stud and Man covered his calves, slowly stroked the blade over the thick, matted hair. Again, small waves of satisfaction traveled over Dillard. He stood, engrossed at his oversized legs. Some part of him found great satisfaction in displaying his hard work. It was shocking really, Dillard had no idea just how muscular he was. Man and Stud went ahead and shaved the hair off the top of the feet too. Stepping back again, Dillard was given the chance to admire his musculature. Calves the size of footballs struggled beneath his skin, carried on two huge feet. It was strangely nice and comforting, something about the site of his smooth body resounded deep within his body. Dillard had to admit, he liked the look. It made him appear so . . . masculine and tough.

Man and Stud took on his bulging arms next. The bear hair was soon clogging the drain, leaving in its trace bulging biceps and triceps tight as bowstrings. Huge powerful forearms, so good for . . . doing something. He had the strange sensation of holding a ball between them. And thick sturdy hands, tough with a good grip.

They lathered up his backside, causing warm feeling to spread throughout his body. He could feel the cold liquid seeping into his skin.


His lower back filled with tight muscle.


He could feel his back spread just a bit.


A deep gorge formed around his spine, highlighting his great upper back.


The laterals expanded further, it almost felt like they were pushing his arms out towards the side. His back felt so straight, like his spine was in perfect form. He could almost feel his shoulder blades pressing against his skin, held taunt by the huge muscles overflowing his body. He remembered getting the giant football tattooed in his back a few years ago.


Further outward the laterals expanded, his arms held at a ninety degree angle. And it felt so good, and natural. Dillard could feel his arms swinging at the odd angle as he hoisted his huge body around the school and the football field . . . what?


His back looked like an enhanced version of David. He could feel them continue on to the shoulders, the sensuous feeling of the cold cream covering his shoulders. His huge deltoids.


Shaped like bowling balls, spreading his back and chest so wide. He remembered tearing through so many shirts, even XXXL were ripped to shreds over his massive shoulders. He loved his shoulders. A vague memory of hours in the weight room with shoulder presses and the reverse fly.


They had moved downward, leaving a clean strip on his ass. His tough ass. Hard from being knocked to ground


Those deep squats really paid off. His ass was huge, bowling balls like his shoulders, huge stones from lifting ungodly weights.


His ass looked so great in tight pants. Or even with just the two straps of his jockstrap curving underneath the massive cleft. His huge hairless ass.


It bubbled up further, harder and firmer each stroke. The blade was being drawn slowly over the area between his cock and ass, the strip of sensitive skin, perfectly smooth.


He could feel his cock. It was incredible, the connection his mind suddenly had with his balls was unreal. He could feel the huge member filling with liquid, engorging but not hard. His balls dropped lower and lower, a hairless bag for his little players. And his big cock, without hair it looked so much bigger. Dillard felt he blade move over his hips, leaving two well made tattoos of the letter JCK on each side. He had gotten them to match the uniform he wore. His tight uniform.

"See Dude, itís not so bad." Dillard focused on his image in the mirror. A huge, smooth bodybuilder reflected back, each shaven muscle a testament to hard work and training. He placed his huge hands over his cock, his huge cock and balls, which he loved his very much.

"Dude?" Dillard blinked his eyes a few times before focusing on Man and Stud. "Dude, you okay?"

"Uh yeah," Dillard replied, sure for some reason they were talking to him.

"Ready to keep goiní?"

"Uh, yeah."


His entrenched abs revealed themselves from the mass of hair. A few thick veins traveled along side them, further exaggerating their impressive depth. He could remember the hours of crunches and ab machines.


Further up the chest, his pecs. So big. He had great size.


He could bounce his pecs like a champ. He pushed himself to the very limit on chest. After all, it was the part that showed off the best, the deep ridge of his pecs.


His huge hairless pecs, with his hard tits pressing against every shirt. He couldnít remember the last time he could see his feet over their girth.


So big and hard. So very nice. It was awesome, having such a hard body.


He felt the blade go in his armpits, cleaning out the mess of untamed and dirty hair.

The two boys stepped back again, and Dillard got a chance to admire their handiwork. His huge body, muscle madness. So huge and hairless, everything looked so much bigger. As it always had been. The years of training in the weight rooms. Hours of endless repetition. In the name of his body, and the game. It was for him. Him. After all, he was . . . .

"Dude?" Stud shouted. With a strange dawning realization, Dudeís eyes focused on Stud. It was Stud, his friend. And Man. Good fucking boys they were. They were, on the, the football team together.

"Yeah," Dude grunted back.

"No shit, Dude," Man said. "Just making sure you were alive."

"Umm, yeah. I think so."

"Donít think Dude. But you might wanna shave up."

Stud handed the hairless man a razor. In the mirror, Dillard/Dude saw a sculpted jock with long black hair and a weeks worth of five oíclock shadow. With a cautious motion, he slowly pulled the blade across his cheek.


His high cheeks, he had great bone structure.


And his square chin. So strong and masculine, just like him.


His neck, thick like a bull. Filled with veins pumping fluid through his body.


His low brow, just like all the other guys.

He looked different now. Dillard looked more primordial, more meaty. His face seemed like some stereotypical muscle jock. Dumb and built. But thatís what Dude was.

Man gave Dude an electric razor with a close cutter. Effortlessly, he sliced off the wavy black hair, leaving a storm of hair covering the floor. Finally, taking the razor once again, Dude began to shave off the stubble from his head.


I started playing football in fourth grade. Man and Stud were my best friends, we started together.


Iíve been a running back since day one, fast and powerful.


Iíve been a started on the football team since freshman year.


I love football!


Football rocks!



And the rest of the information from Dillardís brain feel to the floor with the final traces of hair on Dudeís body. Everything except his eyebrows had been shaved. In his place stood a hairless statue of muscle mass. His body a pillar to his existence, decorated in football and team symbols. It was all Dude knew, all he had ever been, would ever be. His eyes contained a strange fog. Not true stupidity, just a lack of anything else.

Stud slapped Dude on his solid ass, causing the other muscle head to turn towards him.

"Yo, Stud."

"Hey Dude, come on, we gotta go."

"Okay fuckers, just lemme finish."

"Weíll help" The trio ran huge amounts of brown paste over his body, giving him the look of a man who spent his life naked in the sun. Finally finished, Dude cleaned off his body and joined his teammates in the locker room.

His suited up in his uniform like always, reveling in the sensation of the cup holding his balls, and the tight spandex covering his granite ass. He charged outside with the rest of the team, overjoyed at his glorious life.

[b][b]10:00 remaining in the quarter . . .[/b] •

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