fballcaptain

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]

"This is by far the fastest I've gotten you on your knees. How many times has it been now?" He asked.

"what?" I replied. There was no way he could have known.

"Come on, the entire team knows you've been time traveling to try to get out of your little deal with us. So how many times have you failed to escape and ended up geared up on your knees like this?"

I'd lost track. I'd tried changing the game. I'd tried avoiding the team all together, but no matter what every time loop ended with me on my knees, in full football gear, about to worship the team. Definitely more than 100 time loops, maybe even over 1000.

"Before you reset everything and we do this little dance again, how about we make one more little bet to end this?"

The prospect of this being over was tempting. Each time sliding into the shiny slippery football pants and strapping into the shoulder pads had eroded my resistance. They felt good to wear. Being on my knees did make me horny as hell, but going through with getting fucked by the team would seal my fate as their slave forever.

"Come on, I'll make the deal as easy as possible. All you have to do is get up off your knees and remove the football gear you're wearing. If you can do that, the team will let you go free. Otherwise, surrender your ability to time travel to us and take your rightful place. What do you say? Deal?"

"That's it? I just have to pull off the gear and I'm free to go?"

"That's it. If you win you'll never have to gear up ever again."

"That's easy, you have a deal." I stood up, and grabbed my jersey and started to pull it up so I could unbuckle my shoulder pads, but paused when I grabbed the first strap. "So then I'd... I mean I'll never wear gear again after this?"

"Yep, no football gear."

I let go of the stairs and let the smooth, shiny jersey fall back down over my body. "Maybe I'll take a minute..." I trailed off, realizing that after hundreds of rounds of wearing gear I wanted to wear it a little longer.

"yeah, take your time and really enjoy wearing football gear."

"just one last time time."

"oh, of course, just one last time." He smiled, almost sarcastically. I sat down in the chair next to him, and ran my hands over the thigh pads in my pants, and I realized my erect dick was stretching my shiny golden pants. "Yeah, the gear feels good, doesn't it." I nodded and gave a hard swallow.

We sat together in silence for what felt like hours, but it was probably only a few minutes. I was hoping he'd say something else. I expected taunting or assurance on how much I'd love belonging to the team, but there was nothing but silence. Silence and the smell of sweaty shoulder pads.

I prodded my dick a little bit through the pants, each little stroke filled my legs to my toes with pleasure, so I stopped. I palpated the knee pads in my pants, and I adjusted my shoulder pads, but neither of us said a word. We just sat together in the silence of the locker room, the only sound being the hum of the AC. I felt a lump in my throat.

All I had to do was get up, take off the gear, and walk out of the locker room. No more bad debt. No worries about becoming a slave. Freedom was only steps away. Why couldn't I do it? Why didn't I want to get out of the gear? Why did certain enslavement to the team feel appealing or even desirable? Had I really gone through hundreds of rounds of time travel resisting only to end up in the clutches of the team by my own desire?

I finally broke the silence. "I've lost, haven't I"

"You lost a long time ago. You are the property of the team now"

I moved from the chair and got back on my knees, surrendering my ability to time travel and accepting my rightful place.

[fballcaptain]

Elmshorn Fighting Pirates - Germany

[fballcaptain]

<3

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]

Anyone know where @jockadmiration went??

[fballcaptain]

A Night Locked In the Locker Room

I sprinted down the hallway, rounded a corner and dipped out of sight into an empty classroom. My lungs were on fire, but I faster than any of the guys on the team, which is probably why they invited me to the post-season football banquet. I should have known the team banquet was trap.

Jeff, one of the tight ends, opened the door and entered the room I was hiding in. I held my breath, and hoped he wouldn't think to look under the tables in the classroom. If this was a horror movie, I'd have been dead. Luckily, Jeff didn't look too hard and pretty much immediately left the room. He must have not seen me duck into the room, but I was far from home free. The entire school building was crawling with the football team hunting for me, and every exit was definitely probably heavily guarded.

I quietly tip toed to the door of the classroom and cracked it open. The hallway was quiet. I'd nearly ended caught by doubling back to the varsity locker room, the last place I'd thought they'd look for me, but they'd been tying up all of the other banquet victims there, and one of the tied up men started screaming for them to grab me the second I passed through the door. A light bulb went off in my head. The JV locker room was probably completely empty, and they probably wouldn't look for me there.

I exited the room as quietly as possible, dripping buckets of sweat, and I stealthily made my way to the JV locker room. A few quiet sprints and near misses later, I got to the door and let myself in. It was empty, but the lights were all on like somebody had recently been there. I'd have turned around and tried to find another spot, but I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. I frantically ran into the locker room and searched for a spot to hide.

I took refuge in one of the bathroom stalls. I locked the door and stood on toilet to hide my feet. I heard a couple of guys enter the locker room, probably to search for me. I realized that my hiding place again sucked and thought of five horror movies on the spot where hiding in a bathroom stall like this ended up with the character dead. I held my breath. One of the guys started peeing in the urinal next to the stall. Fuck fuck fuck. I heard a few of the lockers shift, as the other player seemed to be looking for something in the lockers... phew... probably meant it wasn't me. It was probably only a few minutes, but it felt like the player peeing took hours to finish his business. I felt my face turning blue from holding my breath, but I kept holding my breath for hope of holding out being discovered.

Everything in the room went completely quiet. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Did I make a sound and not notice it. Were they listening for me? I rocked on my toes as I mentally screamed for air. I needed to breath so badly. The silence continued. "Hey Ted? Ready to get out of here?"

"Yeah man. Dude probably escaped." Oh thank fucking god. I heard there footsteps as they exited the locker room. I heard the light switch click and the lights went out. As I heard the locker room door shut I loudly gasped for fresh air, and fell off the stool.

I picked myself up off the ground and sat in the bathroom stall in the dark for what felt like two hours. In the dark, the only thing I could sense was the cold locker room air on my skin, the smell of the sweaty shoulder pads, and an occasion patter of footsteps as the team combed the building looking for me. Finally, it felt like a long time since I'd heard the footsteps or any movement out side of the locker-room, so I worked up the courage to make my way to the locker room door, but feeling my way to the door in the dark was difficult in the dark of the unfamiliar territory. Finding the door was even harder because I couldn't see any light entering from under the locker room door. Everyone must have given up and went home.

I clumsily felt the door in the dark to let myself out of the locker room and make my final escape, but I couldn't turn the door knob in the dark. A knot started developing in my gut. I fished for the lights, and once I flipped the switch, I tried the door again. It was locked. I was locked in the locker room.

I tried to rationalize that must have been impossible. It certainly would violate some building code if there was only one door to the locker room, and you get actively locked inside of it, right? I looked around the rest of the room, and the door I entered was the only way in or out. I tried the knob again, but more frantically. It was definitely locked, because there was keyhole on the locker room side.

Kicking out the lock wasn't an option for escape either. Naturally, the locker room door was heavy metal. Not only that, but it looked like the lock was pretty high caliber. Until somebody came back to the school on Monday or until a Janitor came, I was going to be staying in the locker room for the entire weekend.

Luckily, I wasn't going to have to go hungry. The team kept a stash of cliff bars in the coaches office, which of all things had been left completely unlocked. I scoured it for a spare key, to no avail. I had food and water, so at least I was safe. I hoped a Janitor would be in the morning, and tried assuring myself that camping in the locker room was going to be okay, and maybe even fun. Fun was pushing it, but never hurts to have a positive outlook, right?

By now, my sweat drenched clothes from running around the building had gotten cold, sticky, and uncomfortable. I had everything I needed to take a shower since I was trapped in a fucking locker room, so I stripped down and pulled them off. I tried hand washing my gross clothes in sink, and then hung them up on the coat rack to dry. I climbed into the shower, and took my time washing myself. Even the JV locker room had an amazing amount of water pressure and good hot water. I laughed and thought to myself that I'd probably have willing joined the team just for access to this shower. It wasn't just a shower, it was journey to a magical waterfall. I sudsed up myself in the soap, and even the locker room soap was luxuriously bubbly and smelled expensive. The school definitely wasn't cheaping out on the football players.

I shut off the shower, and toweled myself off while enjoying the still steamy hot air. I made a towel toga, since it'd probably be at least 20 minutes before I could get my clothes dry enough under the blow dryer to put them back on.

I wandered out of the shower enclave and back into the main locker room, and I noticed that one of the lockers was just hanging open, practically inviting me to take a look inside. I don't know how I'd passed by it earlier. There was a folded and freshly laundered team uniform inside, and a full complement of compression shirt, compression pants, shoulder pads, a helmet, cleats, lineman gloves and pads for the pants. Instead of drying off my clothes clumsily over a hand blow drying, I could just wear the jersey and pants until they dried out while hanging. They'd probably be warmer too, and the locker room had definitely been getting colder as the night was progressing.

I'd spent the entire night running from these guys, is it weird to want to try on one their uniforms? This was practically an invitation. The perfectly folded shiny gold pants and dark forest green jersey were practically calling to me. I picked up the jersey, and ran it's silky shiny green polyester through my finger tips. The stretchy shiny football pants felt even better to run through my hands. I was going to be here all weekend, it'd almost be a crime not wear a bit of gear and try it out. I thought about how cool I'd look in the full uniform and made up my mind to gear up and try it on. I'd probably have to fish through a few lockers, but between all the lockers everything should be in the room in my size somewhere.

I pulled the compression layer out of the locker and looked them over. I saw on the tags that they were exactly my size. I slipped my legs into the compression pants and my head into the compression top. Damn. It felt so incredibly comfortable feeling the base layer cling and move with my skin. I could have worn them anywhere or under any clothing they felt so good. I was definitely going to need to buy my own set after I got out of the locker room.

I picked up the pants in my hands and looked them over. I saw on the tag that they were exactly my size too, what luck. I clumsily fumbled around with the pants pads while I tried to figure out how to insert them. I eventually figured out to flip them inside out, load in the pads, then flip them right-side in. I pulled the football pants up and stretched them over my thighs. A wave of pleasure ran down my legs, they felt so incredibly good to shift around in. I felt myself starting to get a little hard under the pants, which was definitely a surprise to me. I hungrily pulled the knee high socks up each of my legs, forcefully shoved each of feet into the cleats, and laced them up. I couldn't believe they were both my size too.

I lifted the shoulder pads out of the locker and inspected them in my hands. The smell of man musk wafting off of them was intoxicating, and they were much heavier than I expected they were. Holy shit, they were also my size, which meant the jersey was my size too. Damn, the thought of large muscular men slamming into each other and the sound of the pads slamming against each other felt incredibly hot and sexual. I stretched the jersey over the shoulder pads, and shoved my head into the yolk, my hands through the armholes of the jersey and then struggled to push my self all the way in.

I walked over to the mirror, and couldn't help but think about hot all of the gear looked on me as I found the straps on the shoulder pads and strapped myself in. I pulled the jersey down over my stomach and tucked it into the pants and grinned at myself in the mirror. I flexed a few times and watched all of my muscles shift in the gear. My dick was throbbing and stretching through the pants.

I went back to the locker and grabbed the helmet. Also my size. I pulled it down over my head and strapped it on. I shoved the mouth guard into mouth. I was so horny I didn't care if the mouth guard had been used or not. I started tugging my dick through the pants, but stopped just long enough to glove up before resuming. I found myself climbing up on padded athletic trainers, laying back, and then continuing to furiously jerk off in all of the gear.

Fuck. If the guys had offered to put me in any of this, they wouldn't have had to chase me around, I'd have surrendered on the spot. I had to get it out of my system. Once I jizzed, I'd have to come to my senses. I don't have words to describe how the orgasm felt, but I'll say that nothing else could possibly feel as good that gear orgasm. The only thing I could do after is lay back onto the table, completely limp and relaxed, and fall asleep in the gear.

I woke up, still in full gear, and looked at the clock. 10am. I'd slept nearly 10 hours in the full gear. No sound from the rest of the school. No Janitors. It looked like I was going to be staying locked in the locker room. I jerked off in the full gear again, almost involuntarily. I thought about staying geared all weekend,at least until I came to my senses after another incredibly strong gear induced orgasm, and then I was ready to pull off all of the gear.

That's when the other shoe dropped. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't take off the gear. The helmet wouldn't unstrap. I couldn't pull the pants down, and I couldn't pull the jersey up to unstrap the shoulder pads. The cleats wouldn't even budge, and not even the laces would come undone. I wasn't imagining it, the gear was immovable and I was trapped in it.

I ran to the mirror and looked all over my body for a possible way to pull off the gear, but the only thing I discovered was it looked like I'd fallen into a trap. I don't know how I missed it when I was throwing on all of the gear, but name plate on the back of the jersey had my name on it. It was so incredibly obvious. Everything was perfectly sized for me. I looked at each letter of my last name on the back of my jersey again. I'd put on my own uniform, and in doing so handed myself over to the team.

There was only one thing left to do. I laid back down on the athletic trainers table, and starting jerking myself off again. The only thing I could do is wait fully geared until my new masters came back to let me out of the locker room. I couldn't have imagined a better way to be welcomed to the team.

[fballcaptain]

The Football Dungeon

Content Warning: Erotic horror. Contains erotic, hypnotic, and disturbing content.

Exhausted, I felt myself reach another painful orgasm and strain as I heaved nothing but a singular drop of cum from my dick. I’d been reduced to only being somewhat conscious in the post-nut clarity of milking day.

I was in a dimly lit room in my full football gear, shoulder pads, helmet, and all, and I was strapped to table tilted at a 60 degree angle, enough so that I’d be upright, but down enough I could drift in and out of sleep and other states of consciousness. I should have felt mortified, but the milking machine started slowly working my dick again, and I couldn’t help but moan a little in pleasure.

I felt a wave spread up my left arm, as the IV that had been situated in it injected more fluids into my arm. It was filled with all of the nutrients I needed to live and some experimental concussion prevention medication, nothing psychotropic, or so I’d been told. Because of the IV, I rarely ate any food, expect at the rare events I was released from the dungeon to go to a mandatory team function. The coolness spreading up my arm and feeling of the milking machine relaxed me more.

At night the dungeon was silent, other than the sound of the milking machine working my dick. Speaking of which, I was already starting to feel it cause me to drift back into the hypnotic haze. But during the day, football film was projected onto the wall in front of me for me to watch. I could swear I could sometimes hear hypnotic suggestions throughout the day like “obey”, “relax”, “football is all”, but I could have been completely imagining them.

I had lost all sense of time. I could have been in the dungeon for years or decades, it was impossible to tell. I’d become very used to my routine. The milking machine was power off at night so I could sleep, but otherwise ran the entire time I was in the dungeon. It ran in edging mode most of the time, keeping me in a blurry state of horny euphoria in my gear. Being fully conscious was mostly a thing of the past, but usually at least once a week, and always the day before a football game the machine would switch to milking mode. Milking mode was programmed to drive me to orgasm every half hour for an entire day, and by the end of the day my dick would be painfully dry heaving. In the moments between orgasms, I’d briefly get clarity on my situation and how fucked I was, but before you know it the machine would get back to work. Fear begets arousal, arousal begets milking, and milking begets more euphoria.

The dungeon was under a trap door in the locker room, and they’d let me out for only four reasons: Football practice on week days, strength and conditioning a few times a week, football games, and some needed team functions. On occasion, I was permitted to go out and celebrate a win with the team before being put back into my restraints and resuming getting milked and hypnotized in the dungeon. I was only permitted to take off my gear to lift weights and for select team functions, but I’d usually still have to wear my jersey. Otherwise, immediately after practice and games, my gear would stay on and I’d go back through the trap door to my dungeon, get strapped to the table, IV replaced, and the milking machine would be switched back on.

I would to say the life was nothing but a nightmare. I wanted to scream out for help. I wanted to escape the football dungeon. But if I'm being honest with myself, from my first time being strapped in, I never wanted to leave. It was a dream come true. While restrained in the dungeon, I’d felt less anxious that I’d ever been in my life. The hypnotic work of the milking machine, watching only football film, and being continually entranced was the most relaxed I’d ever been. Sure, at first I tried to escape a few times and get out of it, but I don’t even remember what it felt like to want to get out of this.

One time I was able to escape during one of the rare team functions I was allowed out of my gear. I thought they'd come after me, but the guys knew they didn't have to. Within three days, the cravings for the pleasure of the gear and the dungeon became overwhelming, and I turned myself in. I willingly put back on every piece of gear and stuck my dick back into the brainwashing milker. I’ve tried to get out of the deal that put me here a few other times before I was able to admit to myself that I wanted this. After all, I only ended up in the dungeon because I wanted to, so I’m a willing participant in my own enslavement to the team.

It all started with a poker game with the guys. We were all a little drunk, and at that point where we were comfortable sharing things you wouldn’t share in polite company. I drunkenly confessed my gear fetish to my teammates. Push came to shove, and the guys thought it’d be funny to “threaten me with a good time.” We semi-jokingly made a bet that the first one bankrupt would have to spend the season imprisoned in the stadium in full gear, completely dedicated to the team for the entire football season, and then until they could win at poker. I couldn’t help myself. I threw the poker game that landed me in this mess and intentionally lost because I’d probably never have another change to have my fantasy handed to me on a golden platter.

The first season was fun. At first I was just kind of camping in the stadium in gear, but it quickly devolved in to the mad science experiment it’d become. It wasn’t long before the guys had me in the milking machine and tied up to the table. Not long after the hypnotic content and football film started playing at all hours, and soon after the IV with nutrients and the experimental performance enhancing medications were added.

I couldn’t argue with the results of the guys mad science experiment. The more debauched my prison in the stadium became, the better I played football. We even made it to a bowl game and left the other team in the dust.

Immediately after finishing up on the field, the guys and I went into the football dungeon to play a round of poker to see I’d escape the football dungeon, still in our sweaty uniforms, shoulder pads and all, with me tenting a huge boner the entire time. I genuinely tried to win even though the game make me horny as fuck. I had plans for my life. It was fun being a football slave for a few months, but it was time to get back to the rest of my life... But i genuinely lost and earned another term in the brainwashing dungeon until spring practices started.

Time flies and blurs in the dungeon. Since the football season was over, the machine spend even more time on edging mode. Sometimes the guys would leave it on edging mode and would make me wait two or three weeks before a milking day. Without team functions, games, and practices I almost never left the dungeon, only to be let out three times a week for strength training only.

Before I knew it, spring practice started. Even though i knew my chance to win my out of the football dungeon was after our practice, I barely gave it a thought. Practice was actually really fun, and all the time in the dungeon had made me awesome at football. The coaches let me play around in the different positions, and i nailed all of them with exceptional performance. Turns out that thinking of nothing but football, wearing only football gear, and being kept in a brainwashed state are great for athletic performance.

I legitimately, for the final time, tried my hardest to win at the poker game to get out the dungeon after practice, but I didn't stand a chance. at the poker game this time. All of the in gear brainwashing milker had pretty much turned my brain into a football. I hadn't thought or done anything other than prepare myself for spring football and baste my brain in football erotic trances. I hadn't even thought about or played poker in months. Less than a half hour after practice, I'd already lost and plugged my geared body back into the milker and slipped back into football hypnosis land. I'd officially lost a year of my life in the football dungeon, and wouldn't have another chance to get out of it until after the first game of the season.

I hated to admit it, but I was still enjoying the dungeon, but despite how good the dungeon felt,I hadn’t given up on my other life goals. I was still determined to escape. I hadn't really ever really resisted the brainwashing in the dungeon until now, but if i wanted to do anything other than football I'd have to brush up on poker. Which meant I couldn’t spend all of my time entraced and hypnotized.

When i was let out of the dungeon to lift weights, I'd use my rest sets to mentally do the math and practice poker. Outside of that, I couldn’t hardly escape the brainwashing in the football dungeon. Resisting getting entranced on edging days proved impossible. No matter how hard I'd resist after plugging back into the gear after lifting, within 10 minutes I'd lose myself in my football gear to the pleasure of letting go. I got bits of post nut clarity in between milkings on milk day, so I'd resist the trance for a few minutes every hour to run numbers and focus on winning the next poker game, but it wasn’t long until the milking machine would kick back in and pull me back into football hypnosis.

I tried using time at practice itself to find bits of clarity, but the brainwashing did a fantastic job at turning me into a super human football player. Letting go of my mind in the dungeon was euphoric, but practicing and playing in my gear on the field was exhilarating. Nothing could distract me from playing during practice. Football was my passion and purpose, and I felt pure happiness and dedication on football field doing my thing. Playing on the field was the one place in the world where I felt truly complete.

The first game of the season came much faster than I thought it would. A full year in the dungeon had turned me into one of the top players in the entire league. I was light-years ahead of our opponents and could run circles around them. The feeling of the first victory of the season was the largest high I've ever experienced in my life. It felt even better than the bowl game. After winning, I nearly walked myself back to the dungeon and plugged myself back in to the machines, but the guys grabbed me for the poker game of freedom.

I sat down with the guys, still fully geared, to play the seasonal round of poker to win my way out of the football dungeon. We laughed and talked about how amazing the game was. When the time came to start the first round of poker, within three cards being dealt I stopped the game.

"We don't need to play. I'll go back to the dungeon voluntarily until the end of the season."

"giving up?"

"No, my time in the dungeon has turned me into a top player. I can't give that up at the start of the season. I don't want to give that up. Fuck, i owe it to the team to be the best, and I'm the best for them if I'm in the dungeon."

I'd practiced for months for this moment to escape, but I impulsively was going to throw it all away. And so I submitted myself to my gear and the team of my own free will. I went back into the dungeon and glady stuck my dick into the milking machine, clasped the restraints, and settled into my gear and let myself drift back off into football brainwashing sessions.

I went all in. The feeling I got playing games felt better than any drug, and I wanted nothing but to play my best. I stopped using my rest periods at the gym to mentally practice poker, and instead focused myself to lifting. I loved every minute of practices and games, but I also started looking forward to getting strapped back into the dungeon and going into a gear trance. On the rare occasions i was let out of the dungeon for team functions, I found myself finding any excuse to get out of events early and get back to the dungeon and hooked back up in my gear. Every minute getting edged, milked, and brainwashed in my gear turned me into a better teammate, and it showed.

Some of my teammates became interested in my training program since I was standing out so much. A few of them decided to voluntarily join me in the dungeon for the season to take their game to the next level too. I begged my captors take a more active role in my training, and they obliged. On edging days, they'd gear up into full gear: helmet, shoulder pads, and the works, and they'd take turns letting blow their cocks while the machine was busy edging me.

Our team had a legendary season. I led us to victory after victory, completely undefeated. The entire football season was complete Nirvana for me, and before I knew it, the championship game was over. After we won, I excitedly rushed back into the dungeon and stuck my dick back into the milking machine and instantly dropped into football hypnosis. I completely forgot about the poker game to win back my freedom.

The next thing i knew one of the guys was unstrapping me from the machine. "Looks like you forgot the poker game in the excitement of winning the championship."

"Oh, yeah. I came right back here after the game last night."

"The game was over a week ago. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, so we just let you spend the recovery week here in your favorite place."

"Fuck, does that count as a forfeit?"

"Nah, we won't make you wait until spring. Why don't you take off your gear and go lift, and we'll play the poker game for your freedom after."

In the weight room, I started to try to remember how to play poker during my rest periods, because I was at least going to try to stand a chance at getting out. The year and a half in the dungeon was amazing, but it was time to move on and start thinking about the rest of life. Catching up with friends, maybe dating, thinking about an adult career, maybe even getting back into gaming. I wanted to want those things again, but everything seemed so hollow compared to my time on the field and in the dungeon. Instead of strategizing on winning against the guys, I found myself thinking about how amazing next season could be if I stayed completed devoted to being the best on the football field. Maybe the rest of my life could wait a few more seasons while I stayed in the dungeon becoming a football legend. Hell, if I let go of the rest of my life and stayed in the dungeon, I'd become a football god.

"Football God" i muttered out loud. Everything clicked. I muttered it again. "Football god." For the first time, I knew with absolute certainty what I wanted to do with my life. I knew my purpose and my destiny. In order to get what i want, staying in the football dungeon worshipping the sport, the gear, and my team would turn me into a god of football. After all, a God is nothing more than a slave to what he rules. To be a football God, I'd completely devote myself to my geared enslavement in the football dungeon.

When I finished lifting, I put back on my football gear and went to the poker game. We spent a few minutes bantering about how amazing the season was, but when it came time to play for my freedom, I pushed all of my chips into the middle and said "there's no need to play another poker game. I'm all in. I want to stay in the football dungeon. I volunteer to start in the dungeon indefinitely."

"We're not just going to play for your escape whenever you get bored of it. You can volunteer to stay until spring practice starts.

"You misunderstand me. I'm all in. I'm committing to stay in the football dungeon for the rest of my life. If you'll let me, I'll spend my afterlife there too."

"You realize the experimental serum you've been getting doesn't just speed recovery. It slows aging, maybe even stopping it. You could be committing to a hundred years, maybe even several thousand years, or nearly eternity to be geared and brainwashed in the dungeon."

"I can't think of another way I'd rather spend that time"

"Are you willing to sign your name in blood to the commitment?"

"I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"We'll draw up the papers. You can go back to the dungeon. If you feel the same when practice starts this spring, you can sign your life away then."

And so we skipped the game. They rewarded me for my commitment by tying me to the chair, unlacing my football pants and blowing me in my gear. It was the first time since I'd been locked in the football dungeon anyone other than the milking machine had touched my cock. Shortly after, I was back in the dungeon plugging my dick into the machine around a few of my teammates that decided to stay in the dungeon with me for the off season and putting back on my restraints and drifting back into hypnosis in my gear.

I fully devoted myself to my goal. I let dungeon continue to change me, and I found every aspect of my life in football captivity more enjoyable every single day. Completely letting go of the last of my resistance and any opportunity to leave the dungeon filled me with a sense of contentment I'd never dreamed of. Every day of the rest of my life, potentially eternity was going to be spent geared up in euphoria in the dungeon, in the weight room, or on a football field. Nothing could be better.

Spring practices started before I knew it, and the guys finally presented me with an agreement to stay geared and brainwashed forever. I drew my blood and signed the contract in it without a second thought, and went on to fulfill my desire and destiny to becoming a football god.

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]

Daniel Sprong

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]

I got an AI to illustrate a bunch of prompts of NFL fanatic bromance scenes. . Really loving AI lately tbh. Not perfect, but does the job well enough. . 😈

[fballcaptain]

[fballcaptain]