A Workout Break

A Workout Break

trav stretched his arms as he took a quick break in the middle of his workout. he was doing arms and chest, and trav was feelin' the pump--

Trevor blinked a few tines and turned around. Why the hell was he in a gym?! How did he get there? He was just... at this point Trevor realized he didn't remember anything from before. He has no idea what was happening and didn't know what was going on.

Then Trevor looked at his arms - they were huge! His jaw dropped as he saw his biceps the size of footballs. That is not his body! He then looked down - his chest was massive, his shoulders broad, his legs thick and meaty. And god, he was packing under his compression shorts. This was not him - Trevor was a rather skinny guy, not a muscular behemoth.

Suddenly Trevor felt that he remembered something - a memory that began surfacing in his mind. He was standing somewhere, some room... a classroom maybe, he couldn't say. He was there, standing, and there were some other guys there, and they were... like, athletes maybe... or gym bros, yeah, something like that. Yeah, they were standing around him, looking down at him. And they were giving something to him? Something to eat maybe... no, it was... it was a shirt, and they... forced Trevor to smell it?

Suddenly another giant of a gym bro, wearing a damp muscle shirt, came up to him. "ey trav bruh, you looking pumped dude, huhuhuh" he let out a dumb chuckle. Trevor was just about to answer, saying that he isn't what this guy was thinking he was when the smell of the gym bro's sweat entered Trevor's nostrils. The musky, salty smell was intoxicating and--

trav laughed and flexed his biceps "ya like what ya see bruh?" he asked, then kissed his biceps and sniffed his armpmits. "shit burh, i reek dude" they then both chuckled. jay leaned in and put his nose in trav's pits "duuuuuude, yer smellin' like a real man, pumpin' iron 24/7 dude, ain't that right bro" "fuck yeah it is" trav said as he pushed jay's face into his sweaty pits. after a moment jay stood up and said "ya rested enough bro?" to which trev responded "hell yeah, let's fuckin' go" he then groped and scratched his package bulging under his nike shorts and got back to liftin'

Gym Bro

'ey bruh, you wanna join me in he gym, dude? we're gonna do arms today bro, the best day huhuhuhuh

like what you see brah? ya get these guns in the gym bro, come on dude

huhuhuhuh, dawg, i've no fuckin' clue what you're saying bro

what investigation bro?

nah, dude, nice one bro, am a PT at Steelworks Gym dude, always have been

what? uhhh, yeah bruh, got some gear in the duffel, but ya know bro, a dude's gonna reek after a good liftin' bro

nah man, you must've, like, some shit mixed up bro, cause I ain't that dude you're talkin' bout bruh

huhuhuhuhuh dawg, now you're just makin' shit up dude

bro... yer kinda freaking me out dude... like, who's that agent dude you're talkin' bout bro?

ehm, dude, you're, like, super tense or something, like, maybe ya wanna talk to the Owner bro? he's like a great dude, you, like, relax when you talk with him and he even---

'ey, bro, i got this, like, sick Under Armour muscle tee, as part of my, ya know, sponsorship deal

nah bro, we were, like, talking bout the gym dude, and I'm like, dude, you gotta get some of they new UA gear, they will be sellin' it next month bro, but i can get ya some earlier

huhuhuhuh, you're a funny bro, dude, when we come to the gym, i'll talk to the Owner and get ya some discounts or shit for yer new gym membership bro

yeah bruh, you gotta join my gym bro, we gotta be gym bros together bro, the Owner will be real happy i'm getting new bros to the gym, i'm tellin' ya

hell yeah dude, come on bro

gotta get ya to the Owner dawg, he'll take care of ya

Sports Night - Rugby Conversion

Eddie really didn’t feel like going to the party his co-worker Ian had organised for that evening, but having been accused of being a “flake” in the past he knew he really didn’t have a choice. His main gripe was the fact that Ian had insisted on everyone coming dressed up as their favourite sports. Eddie hated dressing up and wasn’t that keen on sports either. Having only committing to attend last minute, Eddie ordered the first rugby jersey he could find online, planning to wear it with his normal jeans and boots; at least then nobody could complain that he hasn’t taking part.

The doorbell rang and Eddie suspected that that was the rugby jersey being delivered. He was pretty surprised when he got to the front sport and saw a pretty sizeable package sitting on his porch and even more worried when he picked up it. Eddie knew he was not the strongest guy in the world, with a fairly thin and underdeveloped body, but the box was far heavier than it should have been…

He hauled the box into the kitchen and looked inside. Shock turned to revulsion when he realised it was a full rugby kit - shoes, long socks, short shorts, a crumpled but sizeable rugby top, what appeared to be a mouthguard and even a scrum cap. Not only was it a full kit but it looked… used. Everything had been thrown into the box haphazardly, there were muddy streaks on the clothing and there was a very pungent smell hitting his nostrils. He slammed the box closed in a rush and backed away. This was definitely not what he ordered and he was almost looking forward to the opportunity to call up the company he ordered from and complain!

Eddie never really played any sports going up and curiosity somewhat got the better of him. He slowly creeped back over to the box and peeked inside. He didn’t really even notice the smell any more… it was almost appealing. The items looked way too large for him, but he thought what a laugh his co-workers would find it if he showed up in an overdressed, proper rugby kit. So he thought what the hell and took the items out one by one.

He started by unravelling the stripy, long socks and without any further delay pulled the left sock onto his pale, spindly foot. He cringed when he realised the sock was a bit damp, but rushed ahead with the right sock and pulled both right up to his knees.

There was a strange pulsing sensation in his feet and when he looked down he could have sworn that his feet looked almost larger. Not just larger, but completely out of proportion to his diminutive body. His attention moved to his calves which were covered in the socks - they looked bigger as well, bulging out in ways that he didn’t think his stick-thin legs should. He ought to have been concerned, but a fog of calm drifted over his thoughts and he looked back at the box.

He grabbed the black shorts, streaked with mud and grass stains and pulled them up his now chunky calfs. They were initially pretty roomy around his waist and especially at the back, but a not unpleasant warming sensation rolled through his upper legs and his rear. His thighs felt like they were being kneaded while there was a pushing sensation on his rear. He looked down and was surprised to see the already short shorts get tighter and pull up his now thick legs that were loaded with muscle, while he felt his material around his now firm ass begin to comfortably stretch. Before he could freak out however, the warming sensation moved to his front and he softly moaned as his junk was gently massaged. His eyes wandered down and he saw the bulge in his tight rugby shorts slowly, but definitively, inflate.

In the midst of pleasure, he turned back to the box and, finishing up the bottom half, sat down on the floor and quickly pulled on the dirty white and red, studded rugby boots. They looked far too big for him, but they fit his feet perfectly. Like they were made for him. He stood up… and up… and up. Overcome with a shock of vertigo, he reached for the kitchen counter to steady himself but it was far lower than he was expected. In fact, his perception of the room had changed entirely - were his things always this small? 

He knew he should be concerned, but he could not take his eyes away from the box and rushed back. He practically threw the large, damp rugby top onto his pale thin torso while briefly reflecting on his mismatched top and bottom halves. That thought quickly dissipated though when the now-familiar churning sensation returned all across his torso, back, arms and hands. The digits on his fingers thickened, while his hands grew wider and more manly. The changes rolled up his lengthening arms, while they were packed with loaded muscle. The sleeves on his top tightened and rolled up as his biceps continued to explode with firm muscle. He peeked down and watched as a shelf emerged from his chest. He reached one of his meaty paws under the fitted top and stroked the firm, smooth, rigged muscles around his lower torso.

“Bloody hell”, Eddie muttered with his soft English accent. But before he could reflect any further he found himself reaching back in the box and pulling out the mouthguard. Eddie hesitated - pulling on used clothes was one thing, but a used mouthguard? The hesitation didn’t last long; the fog of calm descended on his thoughts and he fitted the mouthguard into place.

He felt it everywhere - a tinge all over his skin. He opened his eyes and watched as the firm skin on his arms and hands darkened and became tanned as if he spent most of his days outside in the sun.

The sensation localised around his neck, throat, face, his teeth, even his scalp. His passed a chunky hand through what he expected to be his lank, thinning blonde hair but retracted it in shock when he encountered short but thick locks.

“Blimey” Eddie said. He paused. His throat rumbled when he had spoken, the word oozing out in a low baritone and with a odd inflection. An accent almost. His reached for his throat but was blocked by a thick bushy beard that had sprung from his cheeks. It was a far cry from his patchy neck beard that his co-workers made fun of him for. But as he stroked the thick beard he felt almost proud and he chuckled deeply.

Eddie began to feel dizzy, but he delved back into the box and pulled out the final item - a scrum cap. Part of Eddie told him to slow down and take stock of what the hell was moving on, but he rushed ahead and pulled it onto his head. Almost immediately a strange draining sensation flooded his brain. Eddie was anxious. Why the hell had he put this kit on? Why did he even buy it in the first place? Had he bought it? Memories of the party, his co-workers and his work drifted away. His upbringing, his scant friends, his distant family all fainted from memory. His identity, even his name, began to get harder to grasp. Eddie closed his eyes in fear and anticipation and yanked the scrum cap off his head.

He opened his eyes, but the smell hit him first. A familiar smell. A smell he was used to after years of training and matches. Years of pushing his body to the limit in the gym and bonding with his bros. A voice from the distance pulled him back to his apparent reality.

“Earth to Josh.”

He turned around, instinctively answering to Josh. He faced a stocky, tanned man in a locker room. In their locked room. The name Josh reverberated around his brain - it made sense. 

“Sorry mate - was completely out of it” Josh responded, temporarily taken aback from the Aussie twang coming out of his voice.

“Well it’s a scorcher out there” his team mate said. “You may wanna change into a vest mate.”

“Sure - see you out there Oli.” The name came naturally, as memories flowed smoothly into Josh’s brain. The last vestiges of his old life as short, thin, quiet chemical engineer called Eddie seeped out of his brain, while memories of rugby plays, chillin’ with his teammates and working out in the gym creeped in. His instinctively went to his locker, pulled off the thick long socks and pulled on a black vest. He paused briefly in front a mirror, eyeing up his loaded biceps and chunky legs. He ran a thick hand through his styled hair and looked deep into his dark eyes. He looked great. He looked right.

He came out of his daydream and chuckled - what was he waiting for? He laughed, grabbed a ball and ran outside to join his teammates.

This is my first ever story - any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Going to try and post on a semi-regular basis; if you have any requests or questions please do feel free!

The Rookie's Figuring It Out

Going back to my dorm room, just had a meeting with Mr. Bridges, and he-- wait, who's Mr. Bridges? Anyway, just came out of a meeting with Coach, went great bro, got all the details figured out. Now I can go back to my place and relax, that was an exhausting day.

As I enter the dormitory building my phone buzzes. I take it and see I got a text from Jamie asking about... wait, what study group is he-- damn, some nerd got his numbers mixed up, I ain't joining no lame study group, no way bruh.

I enter my room and as I put my things away I feel my body aching. But i can't really say why, cause I didn't really-- dude, my muscles are, like, burning bro. Coach dragged me through a nightmare of a workout earlier, ya know, to see if I am worth putting on the roster.

i jump on the couch, now's the time to play some madden bruh, huhuhuhuh... dude, what are those books laying on the table? Intro to anthro... antrop... pology... that is, wait, I... I know, that's like-- huhuh bruh, that's some nerd shit here dude. dunno how it got here but i know where it'll go dude - straight into the trash, where it belongs bro.

bruh, where's my ps4 bro, dude? how am i s'possed to crush random losers on the internet when i don't have that fuckin' console-- dude, gotta prep some food for tomorrow, gotta get that protein huhuhuh, or Coach will get mad-- Coach says to eat enough calories and get enough protein. Coach's word is law. Coach is always right.

so i'm lookin' at my schedule, yeah? and we gotta practice 'morrow for like 4 hours or so, but here i have, in my calendar or whatever, and there's some college shit like dude, like classes and shit, like damn, i gotta tell Coach that i have some conflict in my schedule-- huhuhuhuh damn bro, got some fuckin' class in muh schedule during practice. fuck, what pussy goes to "ancient history 101" like, what a fuckin' idiot dude

wait bro, wait... so im a football bro, yeah, right, but i play college football, and college means, uhhh... like, what was that shit dude, damn... a major, right... college means havin' a major bro, and my major's something like... bruh, its like... oh wait-- huhuhuh dude, who gives a shit about some nerd shit bro, am here to play ball and bro out BRUH!

i 'ave Coach takin' care of all that boring ass shit dude, yeah, he's takin' care of all that smart bullshit and im just workin' out and tacklin' dudes bro. fuck yeah, dude, that's right bruh. im a fuckin' football dawg, born to play and to crush every goddamn dude who stands in my way bro, not to care 'bout any of that lame pussy shit bro. ya wanna go get those guns pumped, bro?

More Loyal, More American, More The Same

Coach had been annoyed a bit lately. It wasn't because of any singular thing - a lost game or some encounter. It was more of a... vibe, as his players would say. It's something that's been nagging him for a long time.

The whole atmosphere around college football has changed. Players can now earn money, meaning they now care only about getting rich instead of sacrificing everything they've got for the team. The craze abound 'toxic masculinity' has taken hold, and as a result many guys on the team have taken up interests and activities unworthy of real men - and they are extremely public about this!

Something has been lost - some immeasurable yet vital part of college football's spirit. And unfortunately Coach's team wasn't immune to this. He has seen his younger recruits display a variety of behaviors that differed from his view of how a college football rookie should function in a locker room filled with other football players.

And Coach's opinion becomes the law of the locker room. So after he saw a few of his defensive linemen participate in a film theory seminar, and his starting wide receiver posted a picture showing him attending some anti-government protest, he knew he had to act.

He decided to tackle these issues in a few ways. He began with working on his players' patriotism. Coach knew that he needed his guys to have this base layer - respect for the great nation that they were a part of - that he could build upon. He turned to one of his most trusted tools, subconscious messaging hidden in his videos and presentations.

you are an American

you are a Real Patriot

you play AMERICAN football

you fight for America

America is the greatest country on Earth

you preserve American traditions and values

During teem meetings, the players' minds began internalizing the importance of unquestionable loyalty to the US of A, the greatest place in the world. Coach spent a few weeks working on this, and when Military Appreciation Day came, for the first time in a long time, the whole team took active part in it. He even heard a few of them talk abut enlisting after college.

Motivated by such positive results, Coach moved to his next objective. After a bit of tampering, the speakers the players used to play music in the gym during workouts began incorporating conditioning that would align their behavior with Coach's expectations.

i am a man

i am proud to be a man

i am a strong man

i do what is masculine

my manhood needs upkeep

masculinity defines me

Alongside this, it didn't take a lot of work for coach to make sure that none of his players could sign up for any extracurricular activity through the school's registration system. Not only that, they were now barred form attending anything other than the most basic of classes.

Fortunately, the results were visible here as well. The players stopped attending seminars and lectures created by a bunch of nerds and no longer showed interest in investing much time into any sort of academic work.

The last step Coach decided to undertake was meant to address the issue of money. Players, having the ability to make deals and get income from their appearance in games, seemed to have lost the true reason for playing college football. But there was a way of dealing with that too.

The new helmets that the athletics department bought recently all include a pair of speakers for the purpose of communication between the coaches and the player. In theory this is reserved only for the QB, but there's nothing Coach can't work around.

i play AMERICAN football

i am grateful Coach allows me to play

i play football for glory and to preserve tradition

the thrill of the game is enough

i am Coach's loyal football jock

During every practice, during every workout, during every game, the player's minds were being bombarded with Coach's hypnotic message. And it was working. The guys were displaying their patriotism more often - flags hanging in their rooms, tons of pro-american posts on Instagram, they stopped attending non-mandatory classes and instead added another team session in the gym to their schedules, and Coach noted a visible drop in the number of sponsorship deals the players were making.

There might have been one side effect. As time went on the players began looking more and more similar. The same hobbies, mostly working out or shooting, the same clothes, the same views, the same drive to protect tradition. And Coach had absolutely nothing against that. Who cares if they all act the same, as long as they act exactly as he wants them to.

As Coach's loyal football jocks.

Coach don't need no personality or future PR nightmare. Coach needs the muscle, Coach needs a player, Coach needs a TE, CB, S, WR, whatever.

Coach needs a player, not a person. Coach needs the muscle, not the thinking.