Jockification - Tumblr Posts

As soon as I joined the team everything changed bro. GOLD is all that matters now.

I started going 2 the gym all the time bro. Growin ma muscles n getting big is like all I care about now bruh.

also like the more I wear ma gold gear like the harder it gets 2 think right bro. Like I feel dumb af bro. Like idky but it feels sooo gud just 2 obey coach.

Lowkey like I don’t remember who tf I was b4. But like I dont care bro I fuckin luv mayself now bruh!

no better feeling than getting jocked up bro!!! Huhuhu

join the GOLD Team bros!!!!

💪🤤💪

Xander here brahs! Tryin out for the lacrosse team! Mah bros tell me Imma shoo in! What do you think guys? I think I look hawt. Shoutout to @dylangold20 for the pics! Fucking awesome bro!

made the golden team as Inside Forward 💪🔥

The Golden Opportunity

A 200 follower special

The sun hung high in the sky, casting its warm, golden glow over the vast expanse of the rolling plains. The dry, rustling grass swayed gently in the breeze as William sat atop his stallion, surveying his ranch. He’d worked the land for years, pouring his blood, sweat, and tears into it, and it had become a part of him. The rhythms of ranch life were second nature to him now—waking before dawn, tending to the cattle, and spending long, solitary hours out in the open. It was a life he enjoyed, even if it was a bit lonely.

Despite his contentment, though, something had been gnawing at the back of William’s mind lately. Strange stories had begun circulating in nearby towns, passed along by ranch hands and traders at the market. Tales of a mysterious group known only as the Golden Army. They were said to travel from place to place, recruiting the best of the best—men who were not only strong and skilled but also held an untapped potential for greatness.

Most people dismissed these stories as mere myths, gossip meant to entertain and provoke curiosity. William, pragmatic as he was, tried not to give them much thought. After all, he had a ranch to run, and he’d always prided himself on staying focused on what was in front of him.

Still, the stories lingered in his mind, especially on those long, quiet nights when all he could hear was the distant howl of coyotes and the rustling of the wind through the trees. He would find himself with a cigar in hand, thinking about what it would be like to join a group like the Golden Army, to leave behind the life he had built in exchange for something unknown, perhaps even extraordinary.

One afternoon, as William rode his horse along the southern edge of his property, he spotted something unusual in the distance. A group of riders, their figures shimmering against the horizon, were making their way toward him. There was something striking about them, even from afar. They rode with purpose, their horses in perfect formation, each rider sitting tall and proud in the saddle.

As they drew nearer, William’s curiosity deepened. Their golden jerseys, vibrant and gleaming, caught the sunlight, reflecting it like molten metal. The leader of the group was a tall, imposing figure who seemed to radiate authority. His golden jersey was trimmed with white, and his horse—larger and more powerful than the others—was adorned with matching gold and white tack. The group approached William’s position at a steady pace, their horses’ hooves kicking up small clouds of dust as they came to a halt a few feet in front of him.

The leader dismounted gracefully, his sharp eyes locking onto William. “You must be William,” he said, his voice deep and confident. “We’ve been watching you for some time now.”

William, still sitting atop his horse, frowned. “Watching me? Who are you?”

The man smiled, but there was something unreadable in his expression. “I am Richard, Captain of the Golden Army. And this,” he gestured to the riders behind him, “is my team.”

William’s pulse quickened at the mention of the Golden Army. He had heard the stories, of course, but seeing them in person was different. There was an aura of power about them, something magnetic and undeniable. Still, he was cautious.

“I’m just a rancher,” William said, his tone guarded. “What do you want with me?”

Richard took a step closer, his boots crunching in the dry grass. “We don’t want you to be ‘just’ anything. We see your potential, William. You’ve got the skills we need, and I believe you’re destined for more than this.” He gestured to the vast expanse of land behind William. “We want you to join the Golden Army.”

William’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Join you? But I’ve never been part of anything like that. I’m no soldier, no competitor. I’m just a rancher.”

Richard shook his head, his gaze steady. “You underestimate yourself. You’ve spent years honing your abilities out here—working the land, riding, leading. These are the very qualities we look for in our recruits. You have the strength, the discipline, and the determination to ride with us.”

William opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, Richard pulled something from his pocket. It was a medallion—a round disc made of pure gold, engraved with intricate patterns that seemed to shimmer and shift as the light hit them. He held it up before William’s eyes, letting the light glisten off of it.

“Look at this, William,” Richard said softly. “Focus on it.”

William’s gaze was drawn to the medallion almost against his will. The way it glinted in the sunlight was mesmerizing, the swirling patterns pulling him in deeper. He blinked, trying to shake the feeling, but the longer he stared, the harder it became to look away.

“You’re tired of the same old routine,” Richard’s voice was low and hypnotic now, barely more than a whisper. “You’ve worked hard, but there’s a part of you that craves something more. Something greater.”

William’s thoughts were slowing, the world around him beginning to blur. The medallion swung gently back and forth, each movement sending a ripple through his mind. He tried to speak, to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. His body felt heavy, as though the very air around him had thickened, pressing down on him.

“Relax,” Richard continued, his voice soothing, almost kind. “You don’t need to fight it. You don’t need to think. Just listen to my voice, and let the medallion guide you.”

The golden disc seemed to pulse in time with William’s heartbeat, drawing him deeper into a trance. His eyelids grew heavy, and his grip on the reins loosened as his body swayed slightly in the saddle. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that something was happening to him—something profound, something irreversible—but he was powerless to resist.

“You’re no longer William,” Richard’s voice was everywhere now, filling his mind completely. “That name no longer belongs to you. You are Clayton now, a rancher in service of the Golden Army. You are one of us.”

*Clayton.* The name echoed in his mind, at first foreign, but then... familiar. As Richard repeated it, the name seemed to take root, growing stronger with each repetition. The memories of his former life as William—the years he’d spent working the ranch, the countless hours he’d poured into building his life—began to fade, dissolving like mist in the morning sun. New memories took their place, memories of riding with the Golden Army, competing in equestrian events, and earning glory for his team.

"You are Clayton," Richard said one final time, his voice firm and commanding. "And you belong to us."

Clayton blinked slowly, his eyes glazed and unfocused as the trance began to lift. When he finally looked up, the world seemed different—brighter, sharper, more vivid. He felt a strange sense of calm and certainty, as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. The ranch, his old life, felt distant, like something from a dream he could no longer fully remember.

Richard smiled, satisfied. “Welcome to the Golden Army, Clayton. We’ve been waiting for you.”

---

From that day forward, Clayton’s life changed entirely. His ranch was left behind, forgotten like a chapter in a book he had closed. His world now revolved around the Golden Army, and under their guidance, he flourished. The Golden Army was more than just a group of riders—they were a brotherhood, bound together by their shared commitment to excellence in equestrian sports and a life of discipline and camaraderie.

Clayton quickly adapted to his new role. His horse, now fitted with golden tack, responded to his every command with perfect precision. The Golden Army’s training regimen was rigorous, but Clayton found that he relished the challenge. He spent his days practicing dressage, show jumping, and cross-country racing, honing his skills under the watchful eyes of Richard and Jackson, the co-captain. Each day, he grew stronger, faster, more attuned to his horse.

The Golden Army was known throughout the country for their dominance in equestrian competitions. They weren’t just riders—they were legends, revered by fans and feared by rivals. Clayton quickly became a key member of the team, his natural abilities and ranching experience giving him an edge over the competition.

But the true test of his loyalty and skill was the Grand Equestrian Challenge, the most prestigious event in the sport. The Golden Army had won the Challenge for years, but each victory was hard-earned, and the competition was fierce. This year’s event was particularly important, as they would be facing off against The Titans, a rival team known for their sheer physical prowess and aggressive tactics.

The days leading up to the Challenge were intense. The Golden Army’s training sessions became longer and more grueling, with every rider pushed to their limits. Clayton, though new to the team, was determined to prove himself. He worked tirelessly, his body aching from the long hours in the saddle, but the sense of purpose he felt was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. He wasn’t just competing for himself—he was part of something larger, something greater.

On the morning of the Grand Equestrian Challenge, Clayton stood in the stables, adjusting the golden tack on his horse. The sound of the crowd outside the arena was already deafening, a steady roar of anticipation. His golden suit gleamed in the early sunlight, and the emblem of the Golden Army on his chest seemed to pulse with life, filling him with pride.

Richard and Jackson approached him, their faces calm but serious. “Today’s the day, Clayton,” Richard said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve trained hard for this, and you’re ready.”

Jackson nodded. “We ride as one. Trust in yourself and in your team.”

Clayton felt a surge of confidence as he mounted his horse, the weight of the moment settling over him. This was what he had been preparing for, what the Golden Army had shaped him into. He was ready.

The competition was fierce, but the Golden Army was a force to be reckoned with. Each event was more difficult than the last—dressage required perfect control and poise, while show jumping demanded precise timing and coordination. Clayton’s horse responded to his every movement with grace and power, and together they executed each maneuver flawlessly.

As the final event—the cross-country race—began, Clayton found himself neck-and-neck with The Titans’ best rider. The course was treacherous, with sharp turns and steep hills, but Clayton’s instincts, honed from years of working the ranch, kicked in. He guided his horse with expert precision, gaining ground with each stride.

The roar of the crowd reached a fever pitch as Clayton and his rival approached the finish line. In the last few moments, Clayton urged his horse forward with a burst of speed, crossing the line just ahead of The Titans’ rider.

The Golden Army had won.

As the crowd erupted in cheers, Clayton was surrounded by his teammates, their faces beaming with pride. Richard approached him, his expression one of deep satisfaction.

“You’ve done it, Clayton,” he said, his voice filled with respect. “You’ve proven yourself, and you’ve earned your place among us.”

Clayton smiled, the name now feeling as natural as breathing. He had found his true calling, his true purpose. No longer was he just a solitary rancher. He was Clayton, a rider of the Golden Army, and he knew that this was where he belonged.

Together, the Golden Army rode back into the sunset, victorious and united, ready for whatever challenges lay ahead.

Whatcha doin hiding in there, broski? Did you really think you could escape the gold? It’s time for you to get jocked just like I did. It feels amazing bro, losing all your smarts in exchange for the biggest muscles you’ve ever seen and complete obedience to Cap and Coach. Becoming the biggest gayest guy you’ve ever seen, getting every man your heart desires.

You even get a choice of what sport you want to start out with, bro. Football or soccer. Unless you have another sport in mind? Either way, you’ll be one of us soon, bro. Just another dumb jock recruiting nerds like you to the Golden Army.

A Man of Routine

Ashley Grady was a man of routine. He woke up at 7:30 every morning on the dot. He ate a quick breakfast, had a cup of coffee, and took a shower before leaving for work at 8 am.

Ashley arrived at work no later than 8:15. He worked as a programmer, something he didn’t really have a passion for but paid the bills well enough. He got food from the food truck in the parking lot, worked until 5 pm, and left to go home and have dinner. He did some chores and light reading before getting into bed at 9:30 to repeat the cycle the next day.

Ashley liked his routine. It helped ensure his day ran smoothly. He never expected a small change in it that came in the form of a package. Opening it up, he discovered a pair of golden AirPods with a message inside:

“Congrats on winning this special prize! We highly recommend trying these bad boys out as soon as you can. You’ll never want to take them off!”

- The Golden Army

Ashley had heard of the Golden Army. He knew they were a group of athletes who were always looking for new members, but why send him AirPods? He didn’t remember entering any contest or anything like that. Figuring he could always use them to listen to a podcast or audiobook, he put them on.

As soon as Ashley put them in his ears, the subliminals did their job. He felt calmer, more obedient. He finished the rest of his daily routine on autopilot, getting into bed with the subliminals still playing in his ears.

Ashton Grady was a man of routine. He woke up at 7:30 every morning on the dot. He ate a quick breakfast, had a cup of earl gray tea, and took a shower before leaving for practice at 8 am.

Ashton was the star golfer for the Golden Army. He loved every minute of it, hitting the ball intro he hole with ease. With nationals coming up, he knew he had to be at the top of his game and make the Golden Army proud! He got lunch with his teammates at a local food truck before getting back to practice until 5 pm. Once he got home, he did some chores and light reading before going to bed at 9:30 to repeat the cycle the next day.

As Ashton put the AirPods back in his ears at the start of a brand new day, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his routine. He couldn’t imagine doing anything else.

There are a lot of different forms my bros of the Gold Army take. We’ve got superbros, guido studs, gold beast and more. Whether we’re badass bikers, juicy jocks, studs in suits, cocky Chavs or hot himbos, the gold army stands strong! Join the team bros!

You got this bro! Anyone else want to join? Hit either me or @scott-golden9 up!

I made the team! Hey there bros, I'm Liam Gold, number 25 and your new left fullback! I can't wait to get to know you bros and feel GOLDEN!

Special thanks to my bro @brodygold for recruiting me and getting set-up with my new name and my new uniform! Love ya bro!

Gold and Bros

Sup there bro. Where ya headed? The library? Damn, bro, you got exams to study for? I can help with that bro. No I haven’t studied nuclear engineering or whatever it is you do. I mean I can help with your stress levels bro. All you need to do is embrace the gold and bros.

Just put this golden tank top and shorts on bro. Feel how good the fabric feels on your skin. Don’t you just wanna keep wearing it forever bro? And you can. Just join the gold bro. Just think about the gold and bros.

Your muscles are coming in nicely bro. Look at those arm and leg muscles! You used to be so scrawny and weak but now you could probably pick me up huhuhuh! And I bet you’d like that too bro. Feel those old straight thoughts disappear from your mind. Think about the gold and bros. The gold and bros are your life.

And that’s not the only thing leaving your mind bro. All those smarts poofing out of your brain. Why would you need to know about calculus and physics when sports take up so much of your time anyway? The only thing you need to think about is the gold and bros.

The only thing you want to think about is the gold and bros. How you can support the Golden Army and how you can “support” your bros. You’re getting aroused just thinking about it. I can tell bro. It’s written all over your dumb jock face.

Gold and bros, bro. Gold and bros. That’s your life now, bro. And you’re never going back.

Kyle was always more brain than brawn before the Golden Army took him in. Sure, he worked out a little—he had some muscle definition—but he was still the quintessential nerd. A guy more comfortable with books and strategy games than with weights or sports. His confidence didn’t exactly match up with his potential either, always downplaying his achievements like they didn’t really count.

But then everything changed when the Golden Army found him. The moment he put on that gleaming gold dress shirt, it was like a switch flipped. Now? Look at him, bro. That shirt’s struggling to contain the sheer mass of muscle he’s built. His physique has transformed beyond recognition—biceps bulging, shoulders broad, and a chest that could probably stop a truck. He’s the definition of a powerhouse, both in body and mind. And that’s not even the best part.

Kyle’s not just a muscle head now; he’s running things. He took that brain of his and turned it into serious cash as our top advertising executive. He’s a walking success story—strong, sharp, and living a life most guys would kill for. And guess what? He’s living proof of what the gold can do, bro.

Kyle's become everything he once dreamed of and more. And here’s the best part—we’re always looking for new recruits. We’ve got an extra gold dress shirt waiting for you, if you’re interested in taking the leap. So, what do you say, bro? Ready to join the Golden Army and see where the power of gold can take you?

Is there hockey gold team

Of course we have a gold hockey team. The Golden Army strives to excel in every sport! And we’re always looking for new members to fill our many rosters… What do you say?

Join the Golden Army: Where Brotherhood, Sports, and Transformation Await!

The Golden Army is more than a team—it’s a way of life. We embody the spirit of competition, camaraderie, and growth, not just on the soccer field but across all sports. Whether it’s dominating the basketball court, hitting homers on the baseball diamond, or crushing it in the weight room, we play every sport with passion and a golden pride that shines through. Our golden jerseys unite us, and the bond between teammates is what makes the Golden Army truly legendary.

The Power of the Golden Jersey

When you wear the golden jersey, you’re not just joining a team—you’re embracing a new identity. That’s what happened to Nate, a self-described nerd who spent more time with his books than on the field. But once he put on the iconic golden jersey, everything changed. The jersey gave him a new sense of confidence, strength, and athletic prowess. The team took him under their wing, and within weeks, Nate had transformed into a jock, a powerful athlete who could keep up with the best. His new name? Griff, a nickname earned through hard work, sweat, and determination. The golden jersey doesn’t just change how you look—it changes who you are, bringing out the jock within every man.

Led by the Best

Under the leadership of Captain Richard and co-captain Jackson, the Golden Army doesn’t just win—we thrive in every sport we play. Brody and Scott, our two recruiters, make sure of that by only accepting the best of the best for each sport. Manager Walter, with his noble and haughty demeanor, as well as Coach Chet, ensures that the team stays on track and that every player pushes past their limits. No matter where we play—on the field, court, or track—the Golden Army is a force to be reckoned with.

More Than a Team—A Brotherhood

The Golden Army isn’t just about becoming the best athlete you can be; it’s about finding a family that will support you every step of the way. Whether you’re winning championships or hanging out after a game, the bond between teammates is unbreakable. We push each other, we challenge each other, and we grow together.

Are you ready to transform? Ready to wear the golden jersey and join a brotherhood that’s dedicated to sports, growth, and your success? The Golden Army is waiting for you. Become part of our legacy, and let the jersey transform you into the athlete you were meant to be!

Is there a gold singlet, you know for powerlifting?

You know it, bro! Every sport imaginable is covered by the Golden Army. I actually have a gold singlet right here. Why not try it on?

Feel your muscles expand, your chest getting bigger and bigger to account for your huge pecs. Your arms filling out nicely, bigger than tree branches. Just becoming an absolute stud of a man, ready to go out there and lift in front of hundreds of people.

Do us proud bro!

The Power of GOLD

"Welcome, gentlemen. I'm pleased to see so many of you here today," Captain Richard said, his voice commanding yet charismatic as he stood at the front of the dimly lit room. "I'm sure you're curious about the Golden Army and what exactly it is you're investing in." A smirk flickered across his lips. "But before we dive into that, there's a special gift waiting for each of you under your seats—golden jerseys. Go ahead, put them on."

The room filled with the sound of fabric rustling and chairs shifting as the investors followed his instructions. Some hesitated, exchanging puzzled glances, but eventually, every man in the room donned the bright, shimmering jerseys. The transformation was subtle at first—shoulders straightening, postures growing more confident, with something deeper happening beneath the surface.

"Now," Richard continued, his tone more authoritative, "the Golden Army is not just a soccer team. It's an ideal, a way of life, and it's best summed up in one word: GOLD."

He turned, revealing the acronym on a large screen behind him.

"Growth.

Obedience.

Leadership.

Drive."

The lights dimmed further, focusing on Richard as he elaborated, his eyes scanning the room to gauge their reactions.

"Growth," he began, pacing slowly. "Being part of the Golden Army isn't just about physical transformation, though I’m sure you’re already feeling it." A few of the men glanced at their arms and chests, already noticing subtle muscular definition they hadn’t possessed before. "These jerseys don't just make you look the part—they turn you into prime specimens for any sport you touch. But more importantly, we foster growth as men, as leaders, as pillars of our community. Through charity events, community service, and outreach, you’ll not only strengthen your body but your spirit. You will become part of something far greater than yourselves."

The room buzzed with excitement, the changes in the men's demeanor becoming more apparent. Their movements had become sharper, more purposeful.

"Obedience," Richard's voice sharpened, cutting through the air like a blade. "In the Golden Army, we move as one. When you wear this jersey, you follow orders without question. The team comes first. Always. You’ll learn discipline, loyalty, and the power of unity. Our success depends on how well you listen. On and off the field, you will follow me, your Captain, and the Coach. No exceptions."

There was a palpable shift in the room. What had once been casual investors now felt more like soldiers, sitting at attention without even realizing it.

"Leadership," Richard continued, his smile returning, though there was a fierceness to it now. "In the Golden Army, each of you will learn to lead. Even the most timid and unassuming men are molded into true alphas. You'll feel that arrogance bubbling up inside you, the hunger to dominate, to be the best. As leaders on the field, you'll radiate power—commanding respect without saying a word."

The men straightened even further, some of them visibly clenching their fists, their new-found dominance starting to take root.

"Finally, Drive," Richard said, his voice lowering to a near growl. "When you're part of the Golden Army, this is no hobby. This is your life. We demand nothing less than your full commitment, both on the field and off it. Every ounce of your strength, every drop of sweat, as well as your blood and tears, will be for the Army. You live for the win, you breathe for the team."

There was no hesitation now. The men nodded in unison, fully locked in.

"And that's the heart of the Golden Army," Richard concluded, standing tall. "I'm glad you’ve all chosen to invest in us, but more than that—today you’ve chosen to become one of us." His eyes glinted with something knowing as he surveyed the room. "Because what better way could you invest in the Golden Army than to join us?"

He stepped forward, locking eyes with each of them. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, Captain!" The chorus of voices responded instantly, filled with newfound vigor.

"Very good. You're dismissed for now. Go home, get some rest—because practice starts early tomorrow. And trust me, gentlemen..." He paused, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You’ll need all the energy you can muster."

As the men filed out, the weight of their new identities settled on their shoulders, their golden jerseys glowing faintly in the light of the conference room. They weren’t just investors anymore. They were soldiers of the Golden Army. And they would embrace the GOLD in everything they did.

“Damn bro. This is too hard for dumb jocks like us.”

“Yeah bro. Cap was right. We ain’t cut out for this smart guy stuff no more huhuh”

“How does da horse move again bruh?”

“Fuck if I know bro. Why don’t we go kick the ball around instead?”

“Sounds good bro. Forget this nerd shit.”

A Game For Bros

Nate and I had always been the same: two nerds, caught up in our own world of video games, D&D, and sci-fi movies. He’d been my best friend since high school, a skinny guy with messy brown hair, always wearing some oversized t-shirt of a superhero. Me? I wasn’t much different. Shorter, stockier, and always in retro game tees. We never got into sports—couldn’t care less, really. But that Saturday, when Nate invited me over to check out a new game, we did something a bit out of our comfort zone.

“I don’t usually go for sports games,” I said as I plopped onto his worn-out couch. The game case for The Golden Army: Rise of Champions sat on the coffee table, glowing in a strange golden light. “What made you pick this one?”

Nate shrugged as he plugged in the system. “The reviews were insane, man. People say it’s super immersive, like you actually feel the game.”

“Sounds cool enough,” I muttered, grabbing a soda. “Let’s see what it’s about.”

Nate’s apartment looked the same as always—cluttered with comic books, action figures, and old consoles. The screen flashed on, bathing the room in golden light as the title appeared: The Golden Army: Rise of Champions. The graphics were sharp, but what immediately caught my attention was how detailed the avatar customization was. We both laughed as we started making characters that were basically us but... stronger, taller, more athletic.

“Man, I wish I was this ripped in real life,” I said, chuckling as I bulked up my avatar.

Nate nodded, not looking up from his controller. “Same here, dude. If only, right?”

Once the game started, though, things got weird fast. It wasn’t like any sports game I’d ever played. It was too smooth, too real. Every movement of my character felt like it was coming from me, like my body was somehow connected to the screen. Nate was feeling it too; I could tell by how focused he’d gotten.

“This feels insane,” I muttered, my fingers flying over the controller as my avatar sprinted down the field. My skin tingled, and for a second, I thought it was just adrenaline from getting into the game.

“Yeah, it’s like... I can *feel* it,” Nate said, his voice lower, more serious than usual.

What I didn’t realize was that I really *was* feeling it. I was changing. My arms, once stocky but kind of soft, were slowly growing harder, leaner, and stronger. My biceps pushed against the fabric of my t-shirt, but I didn’t notice at first. I was too absorbed in the game. Nate wasn’t paying attention either, but he was changing too. His scrawny arms were swelling, his chest growing more defined, the lines of muscle slowly becoming visible under his shirt.

My legs were thickening, my calves bulging as they hardened. Nate’s shoulders broadened as his posture straightened, more relaxed, confident. His shaggy hair started to shift, styling itself into something neater and more athletic. It suited him.

Our avatar dominated the field. Every pass, every kick felt like it was coming straight from us. By the time the match ended, I noticed my t-shirt was stretched tight against my chest, clinging to muscles I didn’t remember having. But it felt normal. Like I’d always been this way. Nate was the same. His shirt had morphed into something sleeker, a fitted gold soccer jersey. I looked down, realizing mine had changed too. I wasn’t in my retro game tee anymore—I was in a gold jersey too, my name stitched across the back.

But we didn’t freak out. We didn’t question it. Why would we? We’d always been jocks, right? That’s how we met in the first place.

“Yo, that was sick, bro!” I grinned at Nate, flexing my now-defined arms. “We totally crushed that game.”

Nate smirked, his voice deeper now, his body lean and athletic. “Hell yeah, man. No one can take us down.”

The room around us had changed too, though we didn’t notice with how invested in the game we were. Gone were the stacks of comics and games. Instead, soccer trophies lined the shelves, photos of us in our golden jerseys, posing as champions of The Golden Army. It was as if our old lives had been erased, replaced entirely by something new.

As we kept playing, our minds continued to shift. I didn’t care about D&D or sci-fi movies anymore. All I could think about was training, getting stronger, being the best. Nate, once shy and quiet, was now exuding confidence. We were athletes, teammates, brothers on and off the field.

Our bodies had finished transforming. I looked over at Nate, admiring how ripped he was now. His short hair was clean, his jawline sharp. He looked... good. Really good. The thought lingered longer than it should have, but I didn’t push it away. Why would I? We’d always been close, but now there was something else there, something that had shifted between us.

I felt my heart race as I caught him looking at me the same way, his eyes lingering on my chest, my arms. The air between us felt electric, like something was pulling us together.

“Yo, Nate,” I started, feeling my pulse quicken. “You ever feel like... there’s more between us than just the game?”

Nate turned to me, his eyes locked on mine, and for a moment, the room was silent. Then he smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze. “Yeah, bro. I’ve been feeling that too.”

It happened without thinking. I reached out, grabbing his hand, and suddenly, I was pulling him closer. Our eyes met, and before I could stop myself, I kissed him. His lips were warm, firm, and everything clicked into place. It was like this was always meant to happen. Like this was who we were supposed to be.

When we finally pulled away, both of us were breathing hard. Nate looked at me, his grin returning. “Damn, bro. That was... intense.”

“Yeah,” I replied, still catching my breath. “But I think we’ve always had this, right? Just took us a while to figure it out.”

Nate nodded, his hand still on my chest, his thumb brushing against the fabric of my jersey. “Always. And now? We’ve got everything we need.”

We leaned in again, and this time, it felt even more right. We were no longer the nerdy duo, lost in games and fantasy worlds. We were champions—alpha jocks, leaders of The Golden Army—and we had found each other. As I held Nate close, our golden jerseys shining in the light, I knew that everything was just how it should be.

“Now how about round 2, bro?”

“Oh, you’re so on bro!”

Us bros only drink the best, bro! And thanks to our water boys, we constantly have access to whatever water we want! This water has a few golden side effects, but who cares about your brain when your muscles can be swole? Wanna sip, bro?

Sweet Changes

Tom wasn’t sure why he found himself in the sports store. The Golden Army had promised an unforgettable, transformative experience, but all the self-described nerd felt so far was doubt. He meandered through the aisles, his eyes scanning racks of jerseys, cleats, and equipment, hoping something—anything—would stand out.

“Looking for something, bro?” a voice called from behind.

Tom turned to see a tall, athletic man in a sleek golden soccer jersey. The guy had a magnetic confidence, his muscles flexing casually under the fabric. The name tag pinned to his chest read Brody. He embodied everything Tom had ever wanted: strength, charisma, and a powerful presence that drew others in.

“Oh, uh... no thanks,” Tom stammered, shifting his weight nervously. “Just browsing.”

Brody smirked, his gaze piercing yet warm. “I know that look, man. You’re where I was once. Let me help you out.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a thick gold bar. “Here, take this.”

Tom frowned, eyeing the strange object in Brody’s hand. It looked metallic, but the scent that wafted from it was unmistakably chocolate. “What... what is that?”

“Call it a free sample. Helps people feel like they belong around here.”

Tom hesitated, but the enticing smell hooked him. His sweet tooth won over his caution, and he broke off a piece. As soon as the candy hit his tongue, warmth spread through his body, flooding him with an almost electric energy.

In seconds, his chest swelled, muscles rippling and expanding as his shirt and vest shredded off his body. Tom gasped, watching in shock as his arms grew thick and powerful, his entire torso now straining under the weight of muscle that hadn’t been there moments before. A gold rugby jersey materialized over his new frame, fitting like it had been made just for him.

His legs transformed next, his skinny dress pants giving way to tight gold rugby shorts that hugged his now massive tree trunks. Three of them if you count his new massive package, which grew from 4 to 8 inches.

But the changes didn’t stop at his body. His mind began to shift too. Calculus formulas, tech jargon, and all the knowledge he’d prided himself on slowly drained away. His IQ plummeted, leaving only primal, simpler desires in its wake. Rugby. Team. Bros. Hot dudes. Tom’s lips curled into a smug grin as he imagined sweaty post-game showers, bonding with his teammates, savoring every moment with them.

He flexed his arms, marveling at his transformation, feeling the irresistible pull of the team. The self-doubt that had haunted him moments ago vanished, replaced by a cocky confidence he had never known.

Brody watched with a knowing smile. “How you feeling, bro?”

Tom’s grin widened as he looked at Brody, no longer shy or uncertain. “Ready to serve the team, bro. Gotta get to practice soon.”

“Thought so.” Brody reached over and tossed him a rugby ball, which Tom caught effortlessly. “Here, take this. And if you’re really up for it... grab some more of that candy. I bet there are some bros out there who could use it.”

Tom chuckled, the arrogance in his voice clear now. “Oh, I know just the guys.” He grabbed another bar of the golden candy, already imagining the look on his friends’ faces when he handed it to them.

Brody clapped him on the back, a grin of approval. “That’s what I like to hear, bro. Go share the love.”

With his head high and his body buzzing with power, Tom turned and strode confidently out of the store. He had a team to serve—and some bros to give some sweet changes.

The Brocess

You sat in the reception area, glancing around at the others. Your competition. Every one of you wanted to join the Golden Army, the elite sports club that had quickly become legendary. Invitations were rare, and you knew the journey to acceptance was grueling. But here you were, waiting for your interview after weeks of preparation. The stakes had never felt higher.

You had sent in your application, half-expecting to be ignored, but the Golden Army had replied within days. Their response was casual, almost cocky, inviting you to come in for an interview. “Just part of the brocess,” they said. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Finally, the receptionist calls your name. Heart pounding, you rise and follow him through a gleaming corridor until you reach a door that looks like it belongs to royalty. As it swings open, the room beyond takes your breath away—gold everywhere. Gold walls, a golden desk, even the light had a warm, golden hue. And sitting behind that desk, wearing the coveted Golden Army jersey, was the man you had spoken with on the phone.

He looked up from his paperwork with a grin, almost like he knew this moment was a formality. “Sup, bro. Name’s Hades.”

You clear your throat, trying to mask your nerves. “Uh, hey. I’m here for the interview… hoping to join the Golden Army.”

Hades leaned back in his chair, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I figured. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want in, right?” He grabs a clipboard, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Let’s get you brocessed then. First question: Are you ready to boost your bros when they’re down?”

The question seemed easy enough, but there was a weight to it. Being part of the Golden Army wasn’t just about soccer—it was about the bond, the brotherhood. You’d heard stories of the lengths they went to for each other. This was more than a game.

“Yes, absolutely,” you reply with conviction. “I’ll be there for my bros.”

Hades jots something down, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Next question: What’s your favorite soccer position?”

You pause. The Golden Army is known for its skill on the field, and while you know your way around a soccer ball, you wonder if this is a trick question. Do they want players with specific talents? Or are they looking for someone flexible, willing to play where needed? Either way, honesty seems like the only path forward.

You answer truthfully, and Hades gives a slight nod, scribbling again. “Alright, noted.”

The interview stretches on, each question probing a different aspect of what it means to be part of this brotherhood—your loyalty, your drive, your passion for the game. Hades asks with an effortless confidence, like he’s already decided whether you’re in or not, and you’re just waiting for the verdict. Hours feel like minutes as the tension in the room builds. You feel his eyes on you, weighing every word.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Hades sets his pen down and folds his hands. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Congrats, bro. You’re in.”

The relief washes over you, and you exhale for the first time in what feels like hours. Hades stands, crossing the room to a golden closet and pulling out the iconic jersey. “Now, let’s get you suited up—and we’ve got to give you your new name.” He tosses the jersey toward you, and you catch it, your heart racing. The material feels heavier in your hands than you imagined, like it’s carrying the weight of every victory the Golden Army has earned.

As you pull the jersey over your head, the transformation feels real. Your arms and legs grow out, not too much but enough to make a difference on the soccer field. Your mind slows, focusing only on the golden army and your new bros. Hades is looking more and more attractive by the second. You’ll have to thank him in a special way later.

Hades grins as he looks you over. “Welcome to the Golden Army, bro. Practice starts soon. You’re gonna love it.”

You glance down at your new name and number stitched into the fabric. It’s official now. And as you head toward the field, any doubts you once had vanish. You’ve made the right choice. This was always where you were meant to be.

The Chess Tournament

Jason fidgeted nervously as he approached his assigned table. At 5'4", pudgy, and more comfortable in front of a computer screen, he was stepping into unfamiliar territory: his first in-person chess tournament. Online, Jason had racked up an impressive 1800 rating, but this was different—tangible, immediate, with no second chances in a single-elimination bracket.

Sitting at the table across from him was, without a doubt, one of the most athletic guys Jason had ever seen. This wasn’t the image of a typical chess player; the man was lean, muscular, and radiated charisma. He looked like he had just come from a photoshoot rather than a chess tournament, wearing a golden soccer jersey with the number 11 emblazoned on it. He wasn't;t attracted to guys, but even he could admit the guy was attractive. Jason couldn't help but think this guy had wandered into the wrong competition. No way a jock like him could hold his own here.

“Sup, man. Name’s Brody.” The athlete flashed a friendly smile, extending his hand.

“Jason,” he replied, shaking it, the disparity between their grips palpable. "Shall we get started?"

"Sure thing, bro. Looks like you're up first," Brody said, leaning back with a relaxed air.

Jason moved a pawn forward, confident he could end this quickly. The four-move checkmate was a tried and true tactic against beginners. Brody was probably thinking about his next soccer practice, not chess strategy.

But to Jason’s surprise, Brody blocked the move with precision. Maybe it was luck. Or maybe not. As the game unfolded, Jason realized this wasn’t going to be an easy win.

Jason focused intently on the board, calculating his next moves. So absorbed was he in the game, he didn’t notice the subtle changes creeping over his body. His posture straightened as his body stretched upward to 6 feet, muscle replacing fat. His clothes tightened, then shifted to a snug athletic fit, as if sculpted for his new, lean physique. Brown hair lightened into a sun-kissed blonde, cropped into a sporty, effortless cut. His transformation was seamless, unnoticed.

The mental changes followed. Jason’s sharp, calculating mind dulled, as if a fog had rolled in. Why was he thinking so hard? His thoughts drifted, losing their focus on chess strategy. Instead, his mind filled with something simpler, something primal: soccer, the gym, hanging with his bros, and—strangely—admiring his teammates' physiques. His eyes glossed over the board. Who needed this game when there were other, more important things, like team camaraderie and post-practice showers?

“Checkmate,” Brody announced casually, snapping Jason out of his reverie. The horsey and the pointy piece had him trapped.

“Dang, GG bro!” Jason grinned, a playful laugh escaping his lips. “Glad I got to play you, bro!”

Brody’s smile was unwavering, though there was a depth to it Jason couldn’t quite grasp. “Me too, bro. See you at practice later?”

Jason didn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah, bro! Good luck, man.”

Brody's grin widened. "Oh, don't worry. I've got this."

As Jason left the tournament, he felt an unfamiliar surge of pride—not for the chess game, but for being part of something bigger. The Golden Army was his family now, his purpose. And deep down, he already knew a few others who would love to join.

Back at the venue a few hours later, Brody smirked as he hoisted the trophy. The Golden Army had swept yet another event, but that wasn’t the true victory. Securing new members like Jason? That was the real prize. He shot off a message to Captain Richard: Another successful recruitment. Practice is gonna get packed, Cap. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure of it.