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jockbroski34 · 11 months ago

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So You Wanna Be a Meathead

dedicated to anyone who is just starting out, or who wants to start out

The day comes, and you’re all like, fuck yeah, I’m gonna start working out. And it takes awhile, it always kinda does at first, you’re just kinda pissin along, you do a ton of cardio and maybe play with some of the machines. Like testing the waters, you know? That’s how it starts. You don’t even know it yet, but there you are, on the elliptical, or the treadmill or whatever, and you come up for air sorta. You kinda shake your head from side to side and refocus on the digital numbers in front of you. One is counting down, one is counting up. You’re halfway to halfway there, and you’re so out of breath, and you keep going, pumping, pushing, and there’s no real reason to stop going, so you just keep going. The months pass like that. Sure, from time to time, you get a little frustrated. You ask yourself, why do I keep going to the gym? But there’s no answer. There isn’t even really a question. It’s like shouting into the wind. Your voice gets ripped away from you. It might be a little tiny hiccup of doubt, but there’s a louder, gusting roar going on inside of you. Something is building. You start getting a little, oh, what’s the word, obsessed. Old habits are shedding like dead skin. It isn’t huge, not like those fantasy stories you read. It’s a little bit at a time. Little flickers of thought that lick their way into your head without your even really stopping to notice them. It’s like seeing something move out of the corner of your eye as you whiz by on a freeway. Was it real? Was it really there? There’s no way to go back and check to see if it was, because you’re hurtling forward, you’re moving so fast, there’s no way you can slam on the brakes. You actually end up hitting the gas. You lunge forward. You’re watching a game on TV. Could be streaming it, could be at a bar, could be on your TV, whatever. It’s gonna happen - sports is everywhere, you can’t really escape it. It trends on Facebook. You click the hashtag, the link, idly scroll through. You don’t realize that you have been doing this for some time now, that you seem to continually expose yourself to sports. You see logos of teams more often than you used to - are more people wearing sports swag, or are you just noticing it now? - but it doesn’t matter, it’s just sort of there, out of the corner of your eye. You wouldn’t say that it’s an obsession, not really. Not yet. Well, maybe a little. And then there’s the whole world of the Internet spread out in front of you, a buffet of information. You can choose what goes on your plate. You look at your bookmarks and you’re genuinely surprised how many of them have the word Bodybuilding or Muscle or Nutrition in the titles. You don’t remember bookmarking those, saving those links on Facebook. There’s your watch list, on eBay, and you seem to be constantly getting notifications on your - bling - phone, because another tank-top or sleeveless t-shirt or basketball shorts is ending, and you just gotta cop that shit, you can see yourself wearing it, wearing it to the gym again in the not-too-distant future, and you honestly don’t know what to say when you get a package in the mail like, every day or some shit, and your roommate is like, yo, what the heck are all these packages you’re getting lately? There’s no way to make up a story, and man, lying about it, coming up with something, just seems so hard, your brain is really fried from the last workout, and you just shrug and say “Gym clothes, bro” and oh my god you just flexed your arm in front of him. It’s like time stands still, like everything is frozen, even you, and then you drop your arm and laugh a little, and he laughs too, and everything swells into a kaleidoscope of colors in front of your eyes, something like a spiral has been laid over everything you see. “Gotta show off my gains, right?” And it’s half-a-joke, half not-a-joke, and he shrugs too, and laughs easily, says something about how you’re a real meathead, and it’s half-a-joke, half not-a-joke. And he’s telling you about this book he’s reading, and how he knows you’re gonna be super into it, because it’s meta-post something and - bling - Your phone is going off in your pocket, and you ignore it at first, you’re really trying to pay attention to your roommate, and you find yourself kinda nodding, and saying “yeah” a lot, but not really like, connecting, you know, to what he’s saying. And your phone just keeps going off, and you’re going crazy with distraction, until finally he can tell you’re not paying attention and goes into his room and you dig out your phone and scramble to see what it is. It’s a chat dialog. Someone with a ridiculous name, actually, not even a name, a number. Like they’re on a team or something, and a part of you is kind of intrigued. And there’s a game on the TV, and you’re watching it, and you’re lifting a 15-pounder handweight while staring at the screen. It’s not like you know why, but it kinda makes sense to be doing that. There’s a mirror nearby too, and you keep looking at yourself, watching the muscle grow and move and shift underneath your skin. And before you know it, you’re back at the gym. And then you’re home again, mixing up your first protein shake that you got the protein from that supp center, that one that sells the tanks you see everyone at the gym wearing all the time. You might get one of those one day, you think to yourself. You should, it’s like repping, and you wanna rep your supp center, you want people to know where you get your supps. Right? Of course. When you think about it, it’s really kinda weird, it doesn’t make sense. The day came, you said you were gonna start lifting, working out, going to the gym. You told everyone. You posted about it on Facebook. You don’t remember that you did that, but you did, and you got all these likes, and people are all like, good for you, and how exciting, and keep it up. Soon enough, that turns into wow, you look good and have you been working out and you’re flexing for people you know - at first, privately, secretly, just to show your friends your work - but then, more and more, in public. You stretch your arms over your head when you’re tired, showing off your triceps. Showing off your biceps. You find excuses to stretch out where people can see. You wear shorts even when it’s cold. You want people to see your legs, your calves, your quads. The day came, and you did it, you started doing it, you never looked back. You can’t hit the brakes, you’re going too fast. And sometimes you think about it, you think, why did I make this choice, why did my life change so radically and - bling - You look at your phone, and it could be anything. Someone commenting on your most recent profile pic on Facebook, your friend #37 just chatting about his leg day at the gym, showing you pics of his quads, the teardrop and the outer sweep starting to really show through, it could be another item of gear ending on eBay that you just have to have. What were you thinking about? Something. It’s hard to recall. Must not have been that important. What is important? Well, it’s getting late in the evening. Gotta get that protein. Gotta get to bed. Gotta rest up for the gym tomorrow. Leg day, and you wanna be able to show #37 just how hard you worked because you want your own number someday, don’t you? Sure you do. It’ll come to you. One of these days, you’ll just remember that you have a number in mind for yourself. And then the day comes - you look at the last selfie you took, the dumb one, the one of you with the blank eyes and the big fuckin muscles and well, yeah, you’re shirtless, you’re almost always shirtless at home now, and you’re pretending like you’re surprised, surprised that you got so big, surprised that all the hard work you did is paying off, surprised that you can’t remember your life before, and just for a second, something out of the corner of your eye flickers, and you almost turn your head to look at it, but then you press down on the gas, you leap forward, you lunge ahead, you pick up the weights, you grunt, you sweat, you grow. And what, you ask yourself, is more satisfying than that? The answer comes loudly, in a rush, like a crowd standing on its feet to cheer: nothing. Nothing is more satisfying than that. And you answer yourself, you grunt to yourself, under your breath: Fuck yeah.

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jockbroski34 · 11 months ago

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AlterEgo

The last thing I expected on my 20th birthday was to receive a gift from Cody, my roommate. We were never close, and there was no way in hell he actually knew much about me to know it was my birthday without me telling him. Him and I were basically complete opposites. While I was your typical nerd, smart, introverted, and so on, he was basically your typical jock in all the worst ways. He was boisterous, arrogant, and a total meathead. We mostly agreed to stay out of each others’ way, considering our irreconcilable differences, but that didn’t stop him from being a massive pain in the ass. His room was constantly in a state of disarray, with sweaty clothes scattered all over the place. As such, I often avoided being anywhere near his room if necessary since it smelled like a locker room. He often invited over his “bros” who were just as bad. Whether they were hogging the TV to watch whatever game was on, smuggling alcohol into our dorm to get wasted, or playing catch in the fucking living room, they were always a nuisance. And whenever I brought any of that up to him, he would always end up saying something like “It’s not that serious, dude. We were just having a good time.” Yeah, a good time at my expense. Whoever assigned the two of us to live together must’ve thought this was some twisted joke.

I woke up at 9 AM, still a little tired from last night. I hung out at one of my friends’ dorms to celebrate my birthday. I yawned, and went to the kitchen to make some breakfast. I saw Cody was up as well, his legs spread across the couch, to the point that he was taking up two seats, watching something on the TV that was several volume levels too loud for me.

“Hey bro, today’s your birthday right?” Cody asked, as he tilted his head to face me.

“Uhh, yeah. How did you know?” I responded.

“Oh don’t worry about it, bro. Happy birthday!” I saw him get up and run to his disorganized room, likely to grab something for me. I could see a pair of worn gym shorts on the floor through the crack in the door. He pulled out an old Nike shoe box, since he likely had nothing better to put a gift in. “I’ve been saving this for you. I hope you like it!” Is this his way of trying to get on my good side?

I rolled my eyes since I doubt he got me anything I would enjoy. He probably just got me something that he’d enjoy, like some tight-fitting tank top or protein powder or something. Not that I work out or anything. The only gift I’d want from him is for him to stop being a douche. I opened the box and I was surprised about what I saw. It was a video game. Not any that I’d ever heard of. I looked at the box art and the words AlterEgo were written in a wacky, colorful font.

“Yeah, I knew you like video games, so I found this for you. I heard on the internet that it’s pretty nitch…nichy…what’s the word…”

“Niche?” I responded. I had to admit, him struggling to pronounce the word right was a little amusing. As amusing as being with a simpleton like him could be.

“That’s the word! I got it for myself, but I realized like half an hour in that it wasn’t my thing. I’m happy with what I have right now. I figured you’d probably get more out of it than me.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, dude. Anyways, I gotta hit the gym. I’m gonna be out all day so you have the PS5 all to yourself. Hope you enjoy it bro!”

I watch him leave, thankful to have some peace and quiet. As I ate breakfast, I read the back of the cover in order to figure out what this game was about.

“Become a new you! In this life simulation adventure, you can become any kind of person you want and live any way you choose. Control your fictional avatar, your AlterEgo, and level up your stats to become closer to your true self.”

The game seemed something like The Sims or Animal Crossing, but with some stat progression system. It was a game that I had never heard of, but it could be some hidden gem. The rest of the back was filled with screenshots from the game with the cartoony characters doing activities such as cooking, jogging, and riding a motorcycle. I figured I might as well try the game since I did get it for free. Even if it was from Cody, I wasn’t one to refuse someone’s generosity.

I put the game in the disk slot and booted it up. The title screen had that same logo and some bubbly background music. I pressed the start button and I was presented with a save selection screen. I noticed that Cody’s save was on there, which was odd because I was playing on my account. I knew I should’ve put a password on it. I wanted to make my own character, but part of me was curious about the character that he made. Knowing him, I can only guess. His game time was less than an hour, as he was only on Day 1, and he likely spent most of that time on the character creation screen.

I started his save and my character was sitting in his room. At this point, it was very bare, with only a bed and a bunch of cardboard boxes scattered around the room. I guess the character starts by moving into their new home? I went into the menu to find more information about the character. The character was named Cody obviously and his AlterEgo somewhat matched him too. I went into the stats screen and I was greeted by a tutorial.

“Here you can check your AlterEgo’s stats. You have already set your initial growth modifiers and assigned your base stats. If you need a refresher, whatever stats you chose your AlterEgo to excel at are highlighted in red and the ones you chose to trade off are highlighted in blue. This means that your AlterEgo will grow in the stats in red much faster and prioritize activities that increase those stats and avoid activities associated with increasing your stats in blue. As you play, your AlterEgo will naturally develop into one of hundreds of potential archetypes based on the activities that they excel at. Experiment and see who you become!”

I looked at the stat screen and saw a list of stats with a bar indicating percentage level. The stats included Strength, Constitution, Dexterity, Intelligence, Wisdom, Courage, Charisma, and Luck. Not too far off from DnD I guess. It seemed like he chose to have Strength and Constitution as his highest stats as their font was colored red and Intelligence and Wisdom as his weakest stats as they were colored in blue. Gee, why am I not surprised… Cody was anything but a genius. It seemed like he had 20 initial points to allocate wherever he chose with a default limit of 5. And I was equally not surprised to find that my meathead roommate chose to put 5 in Strength and Constitution again like a barbarian. It’s like all he cared about was his looks and perceived masculinity, even in game.

Strength (physical strength): 5

Constitution (physical build and stamina): 5

Dexterity (agility and flexibility): 2

Intelligence (knowledge): 0

Wisdom (intuition and discipline): 0

Courage (risk-taking and bravery): 3

Charisma (social skills): 3

Luck (good or bad fortune): 2

After looking through his stats, I decided enough was enough and I didn’t really want to go around pretending I was Cody the whole game. I quit out of his save and went back to the title screen. I was back on the save select screen when I became confused. There was still one save, except the name of the character wasn’t Cody…it was mine? The play time was set to 0 minutes. I don’t know how that happened, but if it saves me the trouble of building a character and reading more tutorials, I’m happy.

To my relief, the avatar representing Cody wasn’t there. Instead, a very generic, average character stood in its place in the same room. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was some placeholder account with everything set to the default. Whatever, I can probably change stuff about him later. I decided to move my AlterEgo outside and I was greeted by a map of a large city. I chose an area of the map to explore at random and controlled my new avatar. On the busy city street, there was a cafe, restaurant, and a gym. It was too early for the cafe and restaurant to open, so I guess my only option here is the gym. I’ve never stepped foot in a gym before, but this character doesn’t have to represent me as a whole. Plus, I’d like my character to be well-rounded unlike Cody’s who would probably spend the whole time grinding here.

I went into the gym and had to perform a set of quick-time events. First, I had to do some bench presses. Then some squats. Then finally, run on a treadmill. At the end of it, my AlterEgo did a cartoony celebration and flexed his arms. A pop-up showing that my Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity went up by 1, followed up by another one saying that my Strength and Constitution will double every time I do activities like go to the gym. So it looks like Cody’s modifiers carried over after all despite everything seeming to be the default. That should’ve been the first thing I checked. I didn’t want my character to be specced to be some lumbering brute. I suppose that if I wanted to get my character’s Intelligence and Wisdom, it’d probably be like playing on Hard mode. Honestly, I was open to the challenge.

I was disappointed to find out that it’d be harder than it seemed. When my character got home in the evening, I went into one of his boxes and I was presented with an option to read. I was presented with several options, ranging from comics to full-on novels. I chose the novel since I figured it would raise my Intelligence the best. I watched my AlterEgo try to read the book, but I saw a look of confusion on his face. Eventually, he grew frustrated and threw the book back into the empty box as if he were shooting through a basketball hoop. I expected my Intelligence to stay the same, but no, it actually dropped!

“Sometimes when your AlterEgo fails to complete an activity, their stats can decrease! These stats can even go into the negative. Make sure to keep your stats high because it can become very difficult to increase your stats if they fall below a certain point.”

I couldn’t believe that my character struggled to even read. This guy was nothing like me at all! I hoped that it would be easier to raise my AlterEgo’s Intelligence because I didn’t want him to be a moron. I watched my character fall asleep and I could see into his dream. Another tutorial popped up.

“Sometimes your character will have dreams! These dreams are mostly random, but will also depend on your character’s stats. Just like other activities, you have a chance to increase your stats.”

I watched my character fight in a zombie apocalypse, but the zombies didn’t even look remotely threatening. I succeeded in the activity and my Courage went up by 2 and my Luck and Strength went up by 1. My character wiped his head of sweat as the zombies turned to dust.

The next day, I learned that my AlterEgo can go to school. That was expected, considering my character’s age, only I didn’t realize how hard it would be for him. He was sitting in a desk trying to write down notes. Eventually, like an idiot, he slammed his thick head on his desk and started snoring. This was honestly getting embarrassing. My Intelligence and Wisdom dropped yet again, not by 1, but by 2. If I didn’t do something different, my AlterEgo would basically be a clone of Cody instead of myself. After class, instead of being given an option to go and do something, my AlterEgo is approached by a group of buff men.

Quarterback: Hey new guy, you’re looking pretty strong. Judging from your Strength and Constitution, I think you’d make a good fit for the football team. Your Dexterity and Courage also seem pretty good. Wanna join, bro?

You know who else played football? Cody. I had to keep being reminded of him even when he wasn’t even around. This was my character and I didn’t care about sports, so I clicked the no option. To my surprise, my AlterEgo nodded instead. It's like this game is going out of its way to spite me at this point. Two tutorials popped up.

“If your Wisdom is too low, your AlterEgo might act on their own desires rather than your command. This means that they can sometimes act on their own or select activities that they are more interested in rather than those they are not. Raise your Wisdom or else you will have less freedom when developing your AlterEgo.”

“You have decided to join a club or organization. This will grant you a passive growth to certain stats every week.”

I watched as my AlterEgo walked away with the group of jocks. A football uniform magically appeared over his normal clothes. For joining the football team, I was granted a point in Strength, Constitution, Courage, and Charisma every week, with the usual double for Strength and Constitution.

I kept playing the game, getting frustrated at my AlterEgo’s reluctance to even try to act smart or reasonable. He frequently avoided or skipped intellectual pursuits to focus on those that made him look or feel good. It honestly just felt random whether he wanted to obey me or not. By the end of Day 7, the first week my stats were looking like this.

Strength: 30

Constitution: 28

Dexterity: 10

Intelligence: -20

Wisdom: -15

Courage: 21

Charisma: 17

Luck: 16

My Intelligence and Wisdom seemed unfixable. My AlterEgo wouldn’t even bother to try to read or pay attention at school and he consistently started to make random choices that satisfied his needs as the week progressed. I grew incredibly frustrated at this, but out of curiosity, I wanted to see if there was an end to this so I could go back and make my own character. Either way, this game was plagued with questionable design choices. It’s like the AlterEgo was already locked into a specific path. I hoped that I had accidentally skipped a tutorial or something and that I hadn’t softlocked myself out of raising certain stats. Unfortunately, my AlterEgo’s stats continued to grow and drop as I hit Day 30.

Strength: 75

Constitution: 69

Dexterity: 44

Intelligence: -66

Wisdom: -49

Courage: 54

Charisma: 37

Luck: 41

I received another tutorial message on Day 31.

“You look like you are on track to evolve into your archetype very soon! By this point, your AlterEgo’s stats will be locked in place. That will be the end of the main story, but there is still so much to enjoy afterwards!”

I figured I might as well see this through to the end. You know, see how much of an idiot my character can become. Despite my efforts, all my AlterEgo does now is work out, practice and go to games, and go to parties, outside of necessities. His Intelligence is so low that he rarely even goes to school anymore and that has caused his intelligence to plummet to the bottom. I played for even longer, eventually hitting Day 60. Turns out that this is the day I would discover my AlterEgo’s archetype.

“Congratulations on making it this far. I hope you are excited to find out your archetype, because I know I am! Remember that these changes are permanent, so there will no longer be ways to increase or decrease your stats.”

I watched my AlterEgo marched onto the stage and I was able to view my final stats and a rating of each of them. The descriptions seemed to be heavily based on my other stats, and trust me, they were very satirical, and in my case, very scathing.

Strength: 100

I’d give this an A+. I’m not even sure if you are human anymore. I’ve seen you lift things that no normal man could, not because you have to, but because you want to. You spend more time at the gym than you do at your own house and you might give The Hulk a run for his money.

Constitution: 100

You also get an A+. Your months of training at the gym have given you a perfect, chiseled body that looks like it could be made out of iron. You have a seemingly endless supply of testosterone and your stamina (in more ways than one, it seems) cannot be beaten.

Dexterity: 75

This gets a B. You are very athletic and quick on your feet despite your appearance. However, your large size means that you can be pretty clumsy and you’ve probably broken more things than you’d like to admit.

Intelligence: -100

I’ll just go along with your teachers and give you a big fat F. Are you even trying? I worry that there’s not a single thought going around in your thick skull. You care very little for anything intellectual or sophisticated, not that you even know what those words mean.

Wisdom: -90

Likewise, you also get another big fat F. Were you dropped on your head when you were a baby or did you take too many tackles to your cranium? You have incredibly poor judgment and you only make decisions that satisfy your brutish desires. In short, you often act before you think. Your lack of discipline is only matched by your lack of brain cells. As long as you’re having fun, should I really care what you do with your life?

Courage: 90

I’d give this an A, but not an A+. Because your brain moves too slow to process any risk, you often think before you act. You often find yourself in the most dangerous of situations and you often perform incredibly stupid stunts. When you’re on the field, you’re a risk taker, and at least it usually pays off. On the bright side, you always come out unscathed, so I can commend that.

Charisma: 70

I’d give this a B-. Being on the football team and being very attractive is going to place a lot of eyes on you, but they are all focused on your body because everything else you have to offer is very superficial. I wonder if you surround yourself with people who think and act the same as you do or if people keep you around to laugh at every stupid word that comes out of your mouth.

Luck: 80

Lastly, you get a B. Your luck genuinely amazes me sometimes. Despite everything, despite your lack of any intellectual thought or reasoning, you have survived long enough to make it this far in life. This alone proves that life favors some over others. If there is room for the concept of a higher power in your shrunken headspace, then they probably feel a sense of amusement at the state of you bumbling around through life with only your good looks and muscles salvaging you.

“What do you think? Are you happy with your results? Anyhow, it’s time to reveal your archetype. It’s who you are and who you will be from now on! Drumroll please… (As if it wasn’t obvious enough…) You, my friend, are…THE JOCK!”

The Jock

You are likely an athlete or bodybuilder and you likely care little for intellectual thought. You enjoy playing and watching sports and working out above anything else. You are hyper-masculine, aggressive, arrogant, and egotistical. However, you are also very muscular, tall, athletic, popular, and handsome. You feel a deep sense of camaraderie with anyone you consider your bro, which mostly includes other jocks like yourself. Your wardrobe mostly consists of tank tops, jerseys, varsity jackets, shorts, sweatpants, jockstraps, baseball caps, sneakers, and everything in between. Because of your high testosterone and your above average genitals, you are viewed as a desirable partner and often partake in sexual activities with members of the opposite sex, and sometimes even other men depending on the person and situation. Your most likely career path is as an athlete or coach, but as long as it doesn’t require too much deep thinking, you could probably find a job anywhere with your connections and attractiveness. Enjoy your new self!

I watched my AlterEgo vanish within a cloud of smoke and come out a cartoonish representation of your average stereotypical jock with blonde hair and a very lunkish, yet admittedly impressive build. He looked around, clearly disoriented, with a dull, confused look on his face before flexing with a cheesy, confident smirk on his face. The audience cheered and clapped at this ridiculous personification of a walking stereotype as if they were watching a magic show. Honestly, it was almost amusing how the description it gave for “me” couldn’t possibly be more wrong. It sounded like everything Cody was, not me. Although I guess I was playing with his settings, not by choice I will add, but I had little control over how my AlterEgo decided to live its life. I just wish I could get him off my mind for just one day. Either way, I found myself incredibly dissatisfied with my new AlterEgo, but I accidentally found out a way to make things even worse for me. I just wanted to scroll through the remaining text to get to the credits, since I have been playing for 8 hours by now, when I saw a selection that would seal my fate.

“Are you satisfied with your result? Now that you’ve discovered who you truly are, are you ready to be The Jock in the real world? WARNING: If you select Yes, your save will be deleted as a result. These changes are permanent. If you click No, you can continue playing after the credits.”

I accidentally clicked Yes as I was mashing through the text. What the hell was I thinking?! I had no idea that this would change the entire trajectory of my life. At first I felt nothing, as the screen faded to black. Then, I saw the credits start to roll, playing a remix of the joyful title screen music, and that’s when I started to feel all warm inside and I felt a painful shock come from my controller.

I felt a sudden wave of pain rush through my body as my bones started to crack and shift in my body and my muscles began to inflate like balloons. I looked at the credits and noticed that the new jock AlterEgo was doing the things he normally enjoyed doing in the background. But I couldn’t really concentrate on it as I found myself focusing down below. My legs stretched and stretched until I was around 6’4. My feet grew to a size 15 and my thick glutes and ass made me sink deeper into the couch from their weight. The fat in my stomach felt like it was melting as it left behind nothing more than a layer of sweat and a firm six pack of abs. My upper chest formed into a round set of bouncy pecs. Likewise, my biceps and triceps were almost the size of my head now and my soft hands became rough and covered in calluses from intense lifting. I felt my clothes cling tightly to my body as if they were two sizes too small, and they’d easily rip if my body grew any more. My shirt fit more like a crop top on me and my clothes were damp from pit and ass sweat.

I felt my long hair recede into my head until it formed into a shorter cut that was much easier to maintain. As it did that, my chestnut-colored locks lightened into a golden blonde. My soft, round eyes became more sharp and masculine and I could feel them turn from a chocolate brown into an icy shade of blue. My youthful face lost most of its baby fat and buried beneath it was nothing more than the chiseled edges of my jawline. The lower half of my face, which used to be soft and hairless, was now covered in a prickly lawn of stubble. Even my pasty skin turned a shade tanner from the years I spent in the sun throwing balls around. I noticed that my entire body started to sweat profusely to the point that I could smell my own musk and I became absorbed by my new-found masculine scent. I could smell the testosterone that was pumping through my veins like a drug. I felt powerful, dominant, virile, and dare I say it, good… Lastly, I found my lips contort into an obnoxious, conceited smirk. Was I…enjoying this? Judging from the growing feeling in my groin, I was led to believe that I was. And it kept growing and growing and growing…

All the while, the credits continued to play and the happy-go-lucky music felt like it was mocking my painful situation. Despite the strange pleasure I felt, it was only a distraction as my body still writhed in pain through the whole process while I changed entirely into a real life manifestation of my AlterEgo. What the hell is this game? I noticed that the jock avatar stared directly towards the screen, as if he was breaking the fourth wall, and started to walk closer and closer before vanishing from his virtual prison for good. The lively credits started to simmer down, giving the screen a more empty and disquieting feeling. That was the last thing I noticed before I felt a sharp headache ring through my head. I am usually fine playing games for a long period of time so why…Why did my roommate buy me this game anyways, bro? If he was gonna buy me any game, he should’ve gotten me the new CoD or Madden game, not this weird shit. I had to admit, it was kinda addicting. I liked being able to work out or play sports even when I’m at home. Wait, what was that? I felt like I just heard another voice in my head, both sounding similar yet different to my own. Eventually he called out directly to me.

“Hey bro, it’s me. Your AlterEgo. You know, the real you. It’s been fun, dude. Now I get to enter the real world, isn’t that sick? So here’s what’s gonna happen, dude. I am currently inside your mind and I’m making the final changes to turn you into the person you were always meant to be. That’s right dude, we are becoming one singular person in both body and mind. Don’t try to struggle or fight back. You know I��m stronger than you. There’s no going back. So, are you ready to become one with your true self?

No…I thought to myself. I wasn’t a jock. I was never a jock. I’m nothing like my AlterEgo. This is a mistake. This was Cody’s AlterEgo, not mine!

“Chill out, bro. I know you read the warning and you clicked Yes, so you obviously knew the risk. Why did you keep playing if you knew you’d become a jock regardless of the decisions you made? Because you are one deep down. Or maybe you secretly wanted to be one. Maybe you wanted to see what life was like on the other side. Maybe this Cody guy wanted you to try out this save, you know, to see what would happen... Whatever reasoning, it really doesn’t matter dude. I know you can feel me taking over your mind. You’re finding it harder to think. Soon you’ll be The Jock, me. I just wish you realized a little sooner who you really were…”

I felt my brain starting to shut off and my vision starting to become blurry as my AlterEgo took it over. I don’t even know how any of this is possible, even by today’s standards. An AI buried deep within the game was taking over my body and mind entirely, reshaping me in his image. But I continued to resist, to cling onto whatever parts of my personality I could. However, as I felt my mind sink deeper and deeper into this mental void, I felt myself slowly becoming more and more like The Jock. The archetype that was decided on, not by me, but for me. Until that’s all I was.

Everything turned black for a few seconds. I slowly regained consciousness as my brain rebooted itself. Wait…what’s a reboot? I sat and watched the credits with a dim look on my face as it finally ended. I was booted back to the title screen and saw that my save was indeed deleted. This was proof that my AlterEgo was now a part of me and that he was finally whole. I pulled out my phone wanting to learn more about this game, because, dude, it was kinda fucking weird. By scrolling, I couldn’t find much, but I did discover a post from not too long ago on some ancient forum site that was probably made in the early 2000s.

“Is The Game AlterEgo Real?”

“I’ve heard rumors about this game called AlterEgo, but I have very little information on it. It’s said to be incredibly dangerous and could lead to permanent bodily and mental changes. Throughout all of my research, I could not find any copy of the game for sale, nor any definitive proof that it’s real or any information on the company that developed it. If you have any information on this game, please let me know.”

I skimmed through the forum page, not that interested in reading what everyone had to say. Who has time for that anyways? But I did find one reply that caught my eye.

“I can confirm with certainty that AlterEgo does exist. My friend received it as a gift for Christmas and he wouldn’t stop talking about it to me. It’s like he was addicted. A week later, when I saw him next, I could barely even recognize him. His body had grown and changed greatly and he didn’t act like his usual self. I even feel like his memories might be a little distorted. I tried checking his house to find the game in order to figure out what it was all about, but I don’t think he has it anymore. He probably sold it or gave it away since he said he finished it. No matter what, he won’t tell me. If there are any other copies of the game left, please let me know.”

Woah, so this game is fucking weird, dude. Wasn’t just me. I just played it right? But I don’t feel any different. You know, I bet these nerds would pay a lot for a chance to find out about this game. Maybe they might come out as different people. I’ll put it up on eBay for a high price. One of those dweebs just has to take the bait. I wouldn’t mind a little cash though. I’d feel bad for selling Cody’s gift, but just imagine what I could get with that much money.

“Hey bro, you still in here dude?” I heard a familiar voice shout as they opened the door.

“Yo Cody, there you are. What’s up dude?” I was happy to see him. Cody was my roommate and my best friend. We were practically inseparable. When he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened. I couldn’t really blame him for being impressed with my awesome body.

“You beat that game I gave you already?” He seemed surprised, yet almost impressed.

“Yeah, it’s not usually my type, but I enjoyed it dude.”

“Do you…feel any different, bro?” Cody sounded kinda hesitant there. Had he read about the rumors too? I don’t see why he’d have to worry. None of those rumors are true anyways.

“Nah, same as I’ve always been.”

“Alright, good. I was just making sure you were down to get some food. You should be out partying and celebrating your birthday, not playing some nerdy video game. And trust me, I know all the good spots.”

“You’re right bro. I haven’t gotten enough exercise in today. Let’s go.”

“Wait, before you go, your clothes are so sweaty dude. You should change.”

“Oh shit, good idea.”

“Y-you can just wear one of my clothes. They’d probably fit you better.” He was right. As I soon realized, someone shrunk all my clothes as part of a prank.

Me and Cody went to a sports bar to watch the game. If I remember correctly, this was our favorite spot to get food, except you know, anywhere that lets me hit my macros. Since it was my birthday, he even paid for the whole meal. I don’t remember how long I’ve known him, but couldn’t ask for a better bro. On the way home, Cody grabbed a six pack of beer from the frat house and brought it to our dorm to drink the night away. I wasn’t old enough to drink, but it’s not like I never had alcohol before. And besides, today was basically my cheat day.

We got wasted while we watched TV, and we did some things that I probably wouldn’t admit to anyone but him. I couldn’t help it though. I hadn’t gotten laid all weekend and it was my birthday. Quite frankly, I deserved it. Thankfully Cody took one for the team. He said it wasn’t weird because we’ve definitely done it before and that it was our secret. I had to give him credit. His tight hole is better than most girls’. I didn’t know he was a bottom until tonight. I also didn’t remember having a dick this big, but you don’t see me complaining. After all was said and done, I passed out drunk next to him in his bed, our bodies drenched in sweat and each other’s fluids, as I enjoyed the bromance I have with my best bro. This was the best birthday ever.

The next day, I got up extra early to go for a run despite my hangover. Afterwards I went to school, but like usual, I struggled to pay attention. It was like my mind was in a constant fog. My grades are slipping and this football scholarship is the only thing keeping me from dropping out entirely. After classes, I joined Cody and the others at practice. Throughout the day, I kept getting this feeling of uh…dayjah voo? That word that means that you feel like you’ve done something before. I wasn’t exactly sure where it was coming from. I shrugged it off. I was just a jock and I didn’t need to worry about stuff like that.

When I got home, I got an offer for the game Cody gave me. You know, AlterEgo. Some nerd seriously offered $1000 for it. I didn’t actually know it was that rare. I hope he enjoys it more than I did. I’ll sure enjoy the 1000 dollars. I bet he’ll love passing it around to all his other geeky friends. I wonder what their AlterEgos might look like…

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

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Declan Rice 🔥

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

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I like the sound of this footy chav, those lads are always fit with perfect arses. I'd like to learn more about your offerings.

Footballer in 3…2…1

Well, the tour of the factory definitely wouldn’t be complete without showing you the footie chav production. Are you interested in buying one yourself? There’s a waiting list but maybe I can work something out. Over here, we already have a batch of victi—ahem, volunteers - as our lawyers insist we call them, on the conveyor belt ready to be converted.

Olly is our training model for this drone. At 21, he was a star striker for a large successful football team. It was a great get to have his likeness and personality scanned into our database. These chav drones have been flying off the shelves since we started production, every football team that can afford one are ordering an Olly model.

You’ve seen the mold press in action already but personally it never gets old with me. Amazing how after only a few short seconds their bodies can be effortlessly reshaped, like a plastic doll. Lean, toned muscle from top to bottom. Put two side by side and you’ll struggle to spot a single difference. This model took a lot of trial and error to get the face just right. But the result is, pardon me for saying, ‘fit as fuck’. And the shaved football outline in the back of their faded hair is a great little touch.

What do you think of the thick, fake diamond earrings? Kinda gaudy, I agree, but completely essential for such a basic chav. Doubly so with their now big, sticking out ears.

Arse inflation is next. What? Come on, we both know it’s half the appeal of watching football. And viewership numbers are important to our sponsors. Just a quick injection of our specialised filler to the buttocks and floomph. Mmm, see, nice and thick. A pair of round footballs for all to enjoy. To bounce with every step. It’s really gonna stand out in a tight pair of footie shorts.

They do tend to look a bit confused at this point, especially after seeing their face in the partition glass. Watching the realisation hit them when they figure out that it’s their own reflection is always funny. The wide eyes, piecing together what’s going to happen to them; that they’re about to be made a moronic twat, sold off to some loser football team. The shock is only temporary, as the deprograming chip is quickly installed in the neck. After which, the Olly chav program gets to work breaking down and subsequently rebuilding their new simplified identity. You should be able to see any resistance fade around about now, as chavdom is bluntly imprinted upon them.

Unfortunately the mind-wipe process isn’t always 100% failproof. We’re working on it. But in the meantime we have all the models sent to the milking room after they’ve done, just to make sure every part of their old self is…expelled. Honestly, for most it usually only takes a few tugs from the suction machine. The ones still desperately trying to hold on will be repeatedly gooned to utter idiocy. Eh, we usually give discounts on those ones.

In addition to being as dumb as a post, Olly was secretly a bit of a horny gay kinkster, which has been retained in the drone models. For our adamantly straight-laced, heterosexual volunteer subjects, it can come as a bit of an adjustment. Especially with some of the more…extreme desires implanted. If it’s any consolation for them, they’re going to be comically straight acting, just to overcompensate. Although…I guess that’s a bit of a bummer for anyone more flamboyant, like you are. Ah—sorry, just an observation.

Anyway. Simply put, it means - of course, they love the smell of their own feet. After every match they eagerly remove their cleats and take a long hit off their ripe foot stench. The fact that people are watching and can see their cocks visibly tenting doesn’t matter, they’re just a chav drone after all. ‘Blud, me feet reek’ is reportedly the most common phrase of the Olly model. Probably about 1 in 5 odds when they open their mouth. Suffice to say, any ex girlfriends would be quite mortified about their new ‘foot boy’ status.

Hm? Oh, don’t mind that, casually scratching one’s nuts isn’t too uncommon after all inhibitions have been deleted. There’s no space for self awareness in their programming. No space for much at all really. Except obnoxious narcissism and how to be the perfect player. Their whole world will become nothing but football, it’s all they’ll be able to think about, talk about. No distractions, it’s why they’re such proficient team members. Their brain is basically just a big empty football. No worries about them being off side, that’s for sure haha!

We’ve found they get on really well with the other team mates. Having a certified idiot around really makes them feel a lot better about themselves. Chav drones can be the butt of all the immature jokes, and they won’t even mind, just happily laugh along with it.

This way, let’s watch them all be simultaneously kitted out in their gear. Get closer? Sure. If you stand on the—wait! Watch out for the…oh.

Oops.

Sorry to say, but you’re next in line. There’s nothing I can do I’m afraid. Nothing I WANT to do anyway. You’re gonna make a tidy profit. Not to worry, I’ll make sure to process your new chav contract. Olly.

Time to move you forward, chav to-be. We got plenty more subjects to get through today and I want to see those huge ears studded with fake diamonds.

Body and face reshaping engaging in 3…2…1…

Wow, you’re lucky that you were a good fit for the molding machine, usually we have to test for compatibility first. You don’t want to experience what happens to our rejects, not unless you like the idea of being a chav branded sex toy. But no, you’re the spitting image. Dopey as all fuck with that signature look of confusion. An ideal footballer physique, identical to all the other Ollys. Nice fat arse, by the way. I’ll try and remember which one is you but, you know, no promises.

That’s it, stiffen those limp wrists. Be a propa lads lad! You can feel it right, the intense effects of our mind dampening? It’s the strangest thing, to have your personality condensed down to a imperceptible dot as a single sport consumes your whole identity. A foot ball will define you, define everything you’ll ever care about. Shaved permanently into the back of your dense head for all to see ⚽️.

See the image of a football get bigger and bigger in your brain as the rest of you gets smaller and smaller. Let that perfectly spherical shape expand and fill your tiny chav mind to the brim. It’ll be all you can think about, talk about. Your heavily accented voice mumbling and swearing about scores and tactics, repeating the same basic slang over and over again. Everything else is just white noise, a distraction. Maturity is something you can leave behind, along with that useless education you wasted so many years on. Picture the ball, just waiting there. Feel the NEED to kick it. That feeling as your feet connect, it’s the only high you’ll chase. It hitting the back of the net. The thrill. The…pleasure. Football. Foot. Ball. I can see the words light up your eyes already. Your cock chubbing, balls sagging. Let’s hurry this up so we can have you milked dry and join the rest of the Olly models on the training pitch.

“I…yea—yuh! Footie, amrite lads. Like mate, I’ll give it a punt.”

I’m sure you will, my intellectually challenged friend. The conversion will be finished before you know it. By this time tomorrow you’ll be grinning like a complete dipshit while whiffing your stinky cleats after a successful footy match. Won’t you Olly?

“Uhhhhhhh…fucking ayy. Blud, me feet reek.”

_________

Want more chav drone transformations? Here:

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

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Emergency Model

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"Excuse me, what's your shoe size?"

Bewildered I looked around to find the man who asked the random question, like out of that old episode of Monty Python. Off to the side, almost behind me, was a thirty-ish man in polo shirt, jeans, and glasses with plastic rims that looked purposefully selected to make him look like a film director or architect. He looked unsure or stressed. "Eight, eight and a half. Who's asking?"

Immediately he brightened up. "Hello. I'm Ben Atkinson, " he said and extended his hand. "We're making a photo shoot of the supplemental collection of sporting clothes," he continued without waiting for me to shake it. "It's all for the online shop, so simple stuff. White background, a few poses." Tentatively I shook his hand. "Pretty fast rotation of models. Unfortunately one of them has called in sick. You have the right look, but more importantly the right build and size."

"Uhum," I answered, sensing where this was going. It was a Saturday morning, and I was on my way to meet up with some friends at Wayland's Deli.

"This is quite sudden, but we are on a tight deadline. If you're willing to model for us I'll give you twice the normal rate."

"Ok," I said, not waiting to hear what the normal rate was. I'm sure Stuart would not stop giving me grief about it for the rest of the year, but I would technically be a photo model which wouldn't be a negative in Sarah's eyes. Turned out that it would also be double my monthly earnings as well, so maybe I could shut Stuart up as well.

We entered the building, which apparently was an office space that had been taken over for the day for the shoot. There were racks of clothes everywhere, lots of people with iPads tracking what item was where, who should wear it, and in what conference room they should shoot it. It was bustling with activity. After some exchange of information with Ben, and signing papers, I was handed over to a conference room turned makeup and styling studio. Most of the furniture was stacked in one corner and the floor was covered by transparent plastic that had been rolled out. To one side was a table with lots of makeup tools and bottles and stuff I wouldn't know how to use, except maybe the hand mirror and the scissors, and even that I'm not confident with. A pair of strong LED lamps on stands lit a chair placed at the center of the plastic.

"I'm Julia, pleased to meet you. So you are the last one," said the stylist, carefully surveying me and in particular my face and hair. "We're short on time, so we have to work quickly. Are you ok with a buzz cut and tight fade?" Not what I would have chosen, but it's starting to get warm outside and it's only hair. I'd be back to my current length after the summer. "Sure."

She seated me in the chair and began the work with a corded trimmer, and soon a flurry of detail work with smaller trimmers and some of her tools from the table. Probably took her about ten minutes for the haircut. Then some time with a straight razor blade and a tweezer to pluck and shave all over my face and then arms. I told her that this was all new to me, having literally just been picked from the street. She reassured me that there wasn't much to it. Just be no-nonsense about it. Take whatever the stylist decides, change clothes quickly, do the poses the photographer asks for, and repeat.

"All done," she said and handed me the hand mirror as if I had any say in this. I looked so different than just moments before. The hair was shorter than I've ever had it, with a razor sharp fringe line. The fade on the sides was basically just an inch tall from the head and down the temple, then skin tight down, and presumably the same around the back of the head as well. The total amount of hair I was left with could fit a shot glass. "If you go down the corridor to the break room there is a shower in the bathroom there. Ask Andy outside to let you in. Take a quick rinse to get rid of stray hairs, change into these, put your stuff in one of the plastic boxes there, and come back to me for a final touch-up." She handed me a pair of white briefs and white socks. I hesitated a bit, and she was quick to jump ahead of my thoughts. "Everyone around here are used to see gorgeous bodies without clothes. Act as if it is normal, because to us it is. You can't be self-conscious. Oh, and Andy is the only one with a key, so your valuables are safe." Another boy showed up at the door saying he needed a new application. I told Julia thanks and went to look for Andy.

Andy unlocked the door to the office lunch room for me and I did as Julia had told me. I stripped naked and put everyting, clothes, wallet, phone, keys, shoes, into one of the plastic boxes, wrote my name on it with a whiteboard marker and placed it next to all the other boxes. Eight boxes in total. I went into the bathroom, took a 90 seconds shower, and dried myself off with one of the towels from the pile. I put on the briefs and socks, had Julia apply her things to me, and within ten minutes I was dressed in Nike shoes, joggers, and a fleece hoodie, being ordered by a photographer who didn't have time to introduce himself to look left, turn around, put my hands in my pockets, pull up the hood, sit down on the floor, and on and on. Then out change, and back with the next item.

It was going non-stop since they were behind on my stuff, so I had barely time to talk to anyone. There wasn't any proper lunch break either, just a protein bar together with two of the other models, Mark and Andrew. At first they thought it was funny that I had just been snatched off the street for the shoot, but when I told them how much more money I got they were like "fuck you, go back to work". Well the break was over anyway, so I don't know how serious they were.

It continued with item after item, until I realized I was the only model left. The others had taken off without saying goodbye, not that we had any relation. People were moving things out of the office, and when I asked about the hurry they said there was a firm deadline when they had to be out so the cleaning crew could put everything back to a working office again. I could feel the pressure as it was my item changes that held up everyone. I swapped into a pair of MRKNTN underwear that probably was like half a size too small but decided to just power through with the shoot. As soon as the last photo had been taken, they started to dismantle the light rigs. As I walked back to the lunch room I could see that most of the clothes racks were gone. The makeup room was back to looking like a conference room. I couldn't find Andy anywhere though, and the lunch room with my stuff was still locked. I wanted my stuff for sure, but more importantly I wanted to get out of the underwear that kept squeezing and chafing. I couldn't go more than 30 seconds without having my hands down the joggers to adjust them.

Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen either. I asked one of the remaining people and he said they had all left, working on getting all the stuff back and preparing the "delivery pipeline" for the photos. Probably Andy had checked off everyone from his list, and it was printed before I was recruited. "Just keep the clothes you have on and you can come back here Monday and pick up your stuff," Ben said.

Fuck.

No point in hanging around any longer. Everyone wanted to leave as soon as possible, so I just left and headed towards the bus stop. It was getting late and with no phone on me I couldn't call home and say what was going on.

Fuck.

I didn't have anything to pay the bus fare with. I could perhaps go back to the office building and see if I could catch anyone exiting, use their phone, and call for someone to pick me up. But there was no telling if and when I would get hold of anyone. Just walking back there would make me miss the next bus, so that would set me back at least an hour. I could just as well ask someone else to use their phone. Or perhaps ask them to cover the bus fare.

That's when I saw them, a little bit further down the street, past the bus stop. Six boys huddled at the corner, talking and messing around as if no one else was around. One had a bike. All of them dressed in the kind of clothes I had spent all day modeling in, track suits, hoodies, trainers. All of them were smoking. I figured I'd have as good a chance with them as with anyone else now, looking the way I looked.

As I was getting closer one of them alerted the others and they had some kind of conversation about me. "Hello, excuse me. Could I borrow money for the bus fare from any of you?" There was a second of silence before a mixed snicker erupted, and one of them answered "No, bruv. I don't think so."

I don't know why, but for some reason I was mortified by how I had been dismissed. I could feel my face turning red, so I quickly turned away from them to make my way back to the bus stop, without any plan of what to do next.

"Oi, bruv!" I heard from behind me. Looking back at them I could see three boys had gotten up and were heading my way. "Callum's grafting down at the barber's for some extra quid and need someone to practice on. What if he can do some practice while we cover the fare and take you home safely? Fair, innit?"

"I barely have any hair," I said and let my hand touch my fresh skin fade, almost shocking myself with how radically different it felt.

"Won't be much of a nick then, bruv."

He was right. There wasn't much he could ruin. I had only a few millimeters of hair so in the worst case scenario I could shave completely and it would be back within the week.

"Good lad. A deal innit."

"Yes," I said, unsure if it was expected. The guy who had spoken and Callum flanked me while the third lad walked behind me, enveloping me with the scent of smoke and body spray. After a silent moment the guy spoke again, introducing himself as Iwan and the third guy as Rob, and asked where I lived. I gave him the bus stop, Hillside Garden North, about 18 minutes ride. Would have been busy during the week, but at weekends there wouldn't be many on the bus.

We didn't have to wait long for the bus to arrive, but instead of entering by the driver they all bunched up again with me in the middle and entered through the exit doors as a single unit. Then they quickly moved to the back of the bus and pushed me into a seat next to Callum, facing Iwan and Rob in the furthest back seat. I half expected the driver to say something over the speakers, but there was barely a delay, if any, before the bus was moving as if nothing was out of the ordinary. I looked at Iwan with perhaps a bit of surprise and he just shrugged as if to say "what did you expect? That the driver would confront us?"

Then he nodded at Callum next to me, backpack in his lap, who answered "Aye" and got up. He placed the bag on the seat and positioned himself right in front of me, one leg on either side of mine, his knees hitting the edge of the seat, and his left hand grabbing the rail behind me. It felt both imposing and intimate. He opened the backpack and rummaged around with his right hand until he found a small trimmer in a zip-lock bag.

He opened it with both hands and threw the plastic bag into the backpack. Then he looked out and waited for the bus to drive on straight and even road before he turned the trimmer on. Then slowly he moved it in an arched line from my temple and along the side of my head until he reached the neck. Then he studied for a few seconds before he made a few additional buzzes along the same line.

"Not bad, innit?" he said while shifting his body so Iwan and Rob could see. "Fucking mint, mate," Iwan answered.

Then he turned on the trimmer again and unexpectedly extended the line by buzzing my eyebrow for a few seconds. I hadn't even considered my eyebrows. Callum reached into his backpack again to put the trimmer in the zip-lock, but without moving his feet so his body pressed even closer to me. While I couldn't see much, I could certainly feel his body spray filling my nostrils while I felt my eyebrows with my fingers. I guess there would be a lot to explain to mother anyway, so this would just be yet another detail.

I could just see it for a fraction of a second. It looked like a small glue gun in off-white plastic. Then before I could realize what it was it was pressed against my ear, it made a snapping sound, and I felt a sharp pain. "What the!" I said, more in surprise than pain.

"18G piercing. Hurts more, heals slower, but much better," Callum offered, as if it was the type of piercing that was in question, not that he had done it at all. He reloaded the piercing gun and I struggled with what to do. Just take it like the first one? Why should I? But then one piercing was the real threshold. Once you pass that, two is if anything better than one. This would soon be over anyway.

He was just as quick with the second one as the first one. "These need to stay in 30 days, you hear me?" he said, still standing essentially on top of me. "Yes, I understand," I understand, I said with a sinking feeling of all the implications. He put the gun back into the bag and went searching for something again. Finally he pulled out some sort of pliers, then held my earlobe with one hand while doing something with the pliers with the other. "Making sure they don't fall off," he explained before sitting down again on his seat. I could see Iwan and Rob again, and booth looked pleased. Iwan looked absolutely chuffed. "Fucking proper, innit" he said and pat me hard on the shoulder. "Fucking proper."

After than Iwan opened up and started to ask me all kinds of questions, starting with my name, which I realized I hadn't given him when he presented everyone. I was soon giving the highlights of the day as a photo model until we arrived my stop. To my surprise everyone got off with me. "Said we would take you home safe." We continued to chat all the way home and it turned out me Iwan and Rob had the same taste in electronic music while Callum was more of a rock guy.

"Ok, this is my stop," I said once we reached my house. "Meet us Monday, same time and place," Iwan said. "What?" "You owe us £2 for the bus, bruv." "But..." "You going back on our deal?" "No, I'll come by." "And wear the same clothes. Underwear too." "No! I have classes." "You'll figure it out, bruv." Callum opened his backpack again and tossed something to Iwan. "And use this," he said and handed over a can of Lynx Jungle body spray. "What if I don't? What if I don't do any of that?" "Where you live isn't a secret, innit? See you Monday, bruv."

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

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U live in USA

Yeah I do

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

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Prick

Ayyye you fuckin’ Posh cunt, why donthcha watch where yer fuckin goin!

Edgar was too busy on his phone to notice the scally lad he just ran into, knocking coffee all over the lad.

“Sorry mate, let me get you new clothes,” Edgar said apologetically

“Crack,” the scally knocked Edgar out cold. Picked his Posh ass up and dragged him back to his council flat. The lad stripped Edgar down, shit him up with some substance mixed with his cum and put some crusty old clothes on Edgar.

Edgar woke up, his whole body on fire, he couldn’t speak, he could barely think but his cock was rock hard.

“Now you stupid cunt, everything I tell you is true and when I am done, you’ll ne my fuckin’ flat mate.”

“First, you are a chav, you din’t finish no kind of school and you love to drink and have sex. You love to keep fit so you can stick that dick in anything with legs. You’re dumb as a rock mate, I’m the closest thing you have to family and you would do anything for me.”

The changes happened rapidly, his lean body bulked ouit, his hair got shorter, cock growing like mad, and his eyes were glazing over with some dumb fuck look. His mind faded away and a new chav persona took over. All he wanted was to get his fucking rocks off and fuck.

Oh, and one more thing, your name…It’s Declan O’Shea, your one stupid horny Irish fucker.

The lad was glad that he got rid of one more Posh fuck, thinkin their better than everybody. Not anymore, stupid fucker gonna watched footie, rugby, drink and fuck

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jockbroski34 · 1 year ago

Text

The Bro Cap

Biology was my favorite class this semester. Not only did I find science to be interesting, but I also shared the class with one of the hottest guys in the school: Aaron Moore. He was the star of the school’s baseball team as a pitcher and he was the talk of the school. Girls were always swooning over him for how tall and handsome and athletic he was. He was good at every sport; football, basketball, and so on, but in school, he played baseball. He was a major source of envy for a lot of guys. A lot of guys wished they could be him. I, however, wanted to be with him. Fortunately, I sit behind him in class, so I get the best view of him, despite being from behind. At least it meant he wouldn’t see me watching him.

I often found myself getting distracted by him. Even if I couldn’t see his face, I could see his broad shoulders, which were built like mountains, as well as his arms which were shaped like mounds of muscle. His tall stature sometimes made it hard to look at the board, not that it was the main place my eyes were looking at in the first place. His favorite baseball hat, adorned with our school team’s logo on it, was worn backwards like most of the jocks at the school. He didn’t come off like the rest of them though. His relaxed vibe made him easy to talk to and he could be quite funny compared to the rest of the meathead jocks. He got along with everyone really well, making him very well-liked. Although he was far from the smartest guy in the class, I could tell that he tried. It was no wonder why he was so popular.

Today, I was daydreaming when I was disrupted by our teacher, Mr. Martin. I felt him stare directly at me, almost as if he knew I wasn’t paying attention. It was like he could read my every thought, and honestly, if that were true, that’d be extremely humiliating. The last thing I needed was for my crush on Aaron to be exposed to the rest of the class. Knowing how embarrassing he could be, I wouldn’t put it past him. He asked me a question, and I thankfully already knew the answer, as I awakened from my daydream.

“Correct! I wasn’t sure if you were paying attention or not,” he chuckled. “You always look like you’re off in your own little world. But you still manage to do well. You gotta tell the rest of your class your secret.” Looks like someone has caught on to my tendencies. Mr. Martin was a middle-aged guy, probably in his 30s. He looked good for his age, and was a pretty relaxed and carefree teacher.

The class went by as usual, and eventually we were dismissed. All of the other students dispersed, but I needed to ask our professor a question about the homework. He helped clarify things for me thankfully. I was about to leave, but then he pointed out something on the ground.

“Hey Aiden, doesn’t Aaron sit in front of you? That’s his hat, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, I always see him wear it.” It was unusual for him to have left it here by accident.

“Do you know if you can bring it to him today? If not, I can keep it here until next class.”

“I’ll hold onto it until I see him next. I have a feeling I’ll run into him later.” I don’t know why I said that. We don’t have any other classes together and we certainly aren’t close enough to be friends, even if I wished we were. I’m also not on the baseball team. Either way, my professor smiled for helping him out.

Regardless, I grabbed Aaron’s hat, but instead of chasing after him, I realized I really needed to go to the bathroom. He was probably long gone anyways. After I went, I noticed that I was still holding onto his hat. I went to observe it and I noticed that it smelled a little like him, with a mix of sweat from wearing it all day and whatever shampoo he used. I knew I shouldn’t, but I felt a sudden urge to put Aaron’s hat on. Despite the fact that I would feel really embarrassed if someone saw me wearing it, I knew I would likely never get this opportunity again. I was completely alone, so it’s not like there’s anything wrong with it. It wasn’t just any hat, it was Aaron’s. It’s not like he had lice or anything. What’s the worst that could happen?

And so I put it on, wearing it backwards like he would. Strangely, for a few seconds, I felt as though time had completely stopped. The leaky sink faucet paused its rhythmic dripping. The stomping of feet in the hallway deafened. My watch skipped a tick. But as time seemed to return to its natural course, I was able to see how I looked. I had to admit, I looked really good in it. I wouldn’t call myself an unattractive guy, but Aaron was way out of my league. Despite that, a smirk appeared on my face. A wave of confidence washed over me, almost like a little bit of Aaron had rubbed off on me. Suddenly, I didn’t really feel like taking it off anymore. I wasn’t too worried about what would happen if Aaron or one of his friends saw me wearing it.

After admiring myself in the mirror for a few minutes, I realized that I was late to my next class, algebra. I had no idea I had spent so much time checking myself out. I must’ve lost track of time. As I walked to my seat, I felt like all eyes were on me for some reason. I never used to make much of an impression on most people. I was quiet and had only a couple friends. Normally, I would’ve felt a little anxious with so many people staring at me, but I didn’t really give a shit now.

“Late as always, aren’t we Aiden?” the teacher remarked. Very funny. I always showed up on time. I sat down in my seat, but it didn’t feel right. My body squeezed tight into the desk. I felt like I was sitting in a chair meant for a middle schooler. Weird. Something weird is going on, but I can’t figure out what it is.

The class was just as weird because I felt like my classmates were a little more talkative. I couldn’t focus during class due to being distracted by someone whispering. I still felt a couple of their eyes on me. I looked over and made brief eye contact with one of the girls on the far side of the room. She immediately looked away and giggled towards one of her friends. Her cheeks turned a deep crimson, the color of passion. She was cute, but definitely out of my league. I wasn’t straight either way, so I didn’t care if she was into me.

Normally, I was good at math, even if I didn’t like it, but I felt myself struggling to answer questions today. Something must be wrong. The room felt hotter than usual, and I felt myself sweat a little and my body started to ache. I noticed that I smelled a little like Aaron’s cologne. I’ve recognized his scent from sitting behind him, but for that smell to linger and for me to smell like him is really weird.

Class was dismissed, and this was usually when I went to lunch. I received a text from one of my friends, Bryan, from half an hour earlier.

Bryan: Hey, me and the guys are getting food. Wanna come with?

Normally, we always got lunch at the same time. But for some reason, I didn’t really want to? That’s weird for me. I felt my fingers move on my own as they typed out a message.

Me: nah bro i dont feel like it mayb sum other time dude

I didn’t text like that normally. Nor did I turn down my friends. Is it the…Before I could finish my thought, I was interrupted by the booming sound of two guys further down the hall, with one of them calling my name. They were two jocks. I recognized that they were both friends with Aaron because they hung out together a lot. What did they want? I didn’t really get along well with either of them or the rest of their kind. Hopefully they didn’t think I was a pervert for wearing Aaron’s hat and beat me up.

“Sup bro, we were just about to get some food before hitting the gym. Wanna come with?” the other jock asked me. Judging from his tone, he seemed surprisingly friendly with me.

Were they serious? Did these jocks actually think I was one of them? I would never get an opportunity to hang out with them again, so I agreed. Part of me felt guilty for ditching my nerdy friends to hang out with the jocks, but I knew they were cool guys. My perspective on these two big jocks changed as I walked with them. For some reason, I felt a strong sense of camaraderie with them, almost like I’ve known them for a long time. I’m not sure why I was so intimidated by them before. They were really chill.

I saw another one of my friends as I walked with my new friends. I waved to him, but he barely seemed to notice me. Was he mad at me for skipping lunch with them or did he seriously not recognize me since I was hanging out with the jocks? It almost felt like he didn’t know me at all.

I pulled out my phone to see what was up with him, until I realized that Bryan had finally responded to me.

Bryan: My bad. Thought you were someone else. He must’ve given me the wrong number.

Was this some kind of prank? He obviously knew my number. Of course he knows who I am. Whatever, I don’t care what a nerd like him thinks. I put my phone away and resumed chatting with my jock friends. You know, my real friends. I noticed as I walked with them that they didn’t look as big and menacing as they seemed. Either that or maybe I hit my growth spurt recently.

We went and got food, with the jocks making sure I got enough protein. I swear I almost never eat this much. The jocks must eat a lot to stay in shape, I thought to myself. But did they seriously want me to go to the gym with them? I had class soon. But these guys were cool and I didn’t want to disappoint my bros. I figured I could miss a day and go lift with them. As long as it doesn’t turn into a habit.

I realized as we stepped into the gym that I had never worked out before nor had I stepped into an actual gym. I was worried about coming across as weak and humiliating myself in front of them. I changed into some clothes that I'm not really sure when I bought, a tank top and gym shorts. To my surprise, I simply followed the motions of my bros and I was able to work out with them just fine. I noticed that I was able to keep up with their workouts, and I surprised myself with how much I could lift. It shouldn’t have been possible to lift as much as they did but maybe they were just going easy on me because they knew I was a beginner. By the time we finished, I was just in time for my last class. But just before I parted ways with my new friends, one of them said something that caught me off guard.

“Later, Moore.”

Must’ve been a slip of the tongue. There was no way in hell they mistook me for Aaron. At least it gave me a mental reminder to give Aaron his hat back next time I see him. Although…his hat is so nice that I’m a little tempted to keep it for myself. He could always just get another one, right? I just don’t want him to see me wearing it though, so I’ll only do it when he’s not around.

In class, everyone was still staring at me as if I went to school in my underwear. Maybe there was something weird about me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I did smell a little bit since I came from my workout, but I don’t think it was that. I shrugged it off. They can stare all they want for all I care. I felt incredibly sore after my workout, and my arms looked unnaturally swollen. If I had to be honest, I almost felt as big as the two jocks I worked out with. But in such a short amount of time? With no prior lifting experience? That was impossible.

I found myself completely zoned out and indifferent to class today. All I wanted to do was leave and uh…What was it that I had going on later? I pondered that thought throughout the entire class period. Eventually, we were dismissed and I was free to leave. I was walking towards the dorms until I ran into, guess who? Aaron Moore.

“Hey bro, you still coming to practice?” he asked.

“Practice?”

“Yeah, baseball practice, you big dummy! You know, you’re always so forgetful, dude. Good thing I always was the smarter one, bro.”

“Yeah, you’re right, bro. My bad.” I’m not sure which statement I was agreeing with. But as I looked at him, I realized something. He was wearing his hat! But then how was I wearing his hat if he was wearing it? “I thought you lost your hat. How are you wearing it?”

“I was wearing my hat all day, dude. One day you decided to copy me and wear your hat to school like I do. But honestly, I think you rock it better than I do, so keep it up. You’ll impress the ladies.” But I was gay. And I’ve only had this hat for a day. If it wasn’t his, then how was it actually mine? I was overwhelmed and full of questions after everything that had happened today, from my growth spurt, to me hanging out with the jocks, to my old friends barely knowing who I am, but I didn’t seem to have the brain power at the moment to seek the answers to them.

As we walked, I kept chatting with Aaron as if it was natural, as if we always knew each other. Something felt off, but I couldn’t figure it out. Was it because we were going to practice? I’ve never played baseball in my life. Nah, that can’t be right. I feel like I’ve swung a bat before… We went into the locker room to change. I looked in the mirror and paused for a second.

My reflection wasn’t there. Someone else’s was. Someone much stronger and much taller than me. That wasn’t me. It was Aaron Moore.

No, except it wasn’t an exact match. There was enough different about the guy in front of me to know that it wasn’t Aaron. This figure was a little stronger than him, and still stood probably a little over 6 feet tall. I walked closer. “Aaron” walked closer. I moved my hand to feel my face. So did “Aaron”. A dull, confused look appeared on his face. Had I really become him? But Aaron was over on the other end of the room changing. Then who am I? Was I like this since I put the hat on earlier? I reached into my wallet and pulled out my ID.

Aiden Moore...That’s not my last name. That’s…Aaron’s? Normally I wouldn’t have minded taking his last name, but we definitely WEREN’T married. As far as I knew, Aaron was as straight as an arrow.

Date of Birth: 08/17/2003…If I recall, that’s Aaron’s birthday. I knew my birthday, and it was in January. Don’t tell me…Are we…?

I compared the face in the ID to the one in the mirror. It wasn’t an illusion, and it wasn’t a dream. It was like I was his twin! Aaron was an only child though and I only had sisters. At this point, I was so confused and overwhelmed. Panic was the only emotion I could feel as I felt like I was going through an identity crisis. I realized that this all started when I wore his hat. I reached to grab it off of my head…until I felt a hand touch my shoulder. My bro…I mean Aaron.

“Admiring yourself in the mirror, bro? Yeah, you’re a pretty handsome dude just like me. I think it runs in the blood, you know. You like that, right?” He placed his other hand on my head, pushing the hat tighter on my head. I nodded. I proceeded to flex, as I became self-absorbed with my own reflection. I always thought rather highly of myself, especially about my body. At this point, I couldn’t comprehend the paradox of me somehow being his own non-existent twin brother.

“You know, not every guy is lucky enough to have a cool brother like I do, let alone a twin. The two of us can play ball together, work out together, and even get all the chicks we want together. This is all you ever wanted, right?” He wasn’t necessarily wrong, but I wanted to be “with” Aaron, not be him. Whoever granted me this wish got it all wrong. But as I listened to him, I started to realize that maybe it wasn’t my wish to begin with.

“Yeah bro. This shit’s the life, dude.” I noticed Aaron’s face light up as I said that. The way I talked sounded like it came out of the mouth of some dudebro. I noticed his irresistible smirk that was always on his face when he was in a good mood. As I kept admiring myself in the mirror, I felt my mind slow…down...like it was on autopilot…

“That’s right…Just let it happen… I know it’s been a while, so it’s okay if you don’t remember, but you know that one trophy we won a couple years back? During senior year?”

“Fuck yeah, bro. I remember.” But I’ve never played baseball before…But…I have right? I know I have.

“You know you were the reason we won, right? One lucky hit in the bottom of the ninth, and you practically won us the game. I’ve never been more proud of you bro.” Aaron patted me on the back. I remembered that game fondly, even though I should have no recollection of it. That year, our baseball team was the best in the state. And I…led our team to a championship? As much as I tried to deny it in my head, the memories felt real. But why was he reminding me of this now?

“You didn’t do half bad yourself, bro.”

As Aaron and I kept chatting, the memories of being his twin brother kept flowing into my brain, as memories of my former life faded away. Turns out that I was the brother he never had. We were a pair. We complemented each other perfectly. I was actually the twin brother of the most popular guy in the school. I remember I thought he was hot…wait, what the fuck, bro? That’s gay as shit. And weird. This was my own twin we were talking about. Although I guess if I was a handsome stud, then he’d have to be too. After all, no girl can resist either one of us.

“So the hat is working…” Aaron whispered under his breath.

“What hat?”

“Nothing, bro! I was just saying how good your hat looks on you. Come on, let’s go.” I followed him, as my transformation was now complete.

From this day on, I was Aiden Moore, Aaron Moore’s twin brother. Except that’s who I was technically born as and that's who everyone already knew me as. Although we had a lot in common, I definitely felt more like a stereotypical jock. I was loud, cocky, and masculine, almost to the point of brutishness, compared to my brother who was a lot more laid-back and charismatic. Not that it was a bad thing, although most nerds and weaker men would disagree. But what me and Aaron did have in common was playing sports, working out, fucking chicks, and being the most popular guys in the school. I know I wanted to be closer to Aaron, but I never expected this. But at the same time, it felt good, almost pleasurable at times. I realized that in my new state, I could hardly last a day without an orgasm, whether it was in my grip or in some bitch’s pussy.

Two days later, I had biology again. I remembered I kinda struggled with this class. I sat behind my bro as usual. I was grateful for him since he always helped me with the homework. I noticed him talking to the professor in private when we got to class. When I asked him, he wouldn’t say. It wasn’t like him to keep secrets from me. We practically knew everything about each other after all. After class, I was called to stay after by Mr. Martin.

“Aiden Moore…Your brother told me to check up on you. Is everything alright? Did you need any guidance on the homework, too?”

“Never felt better, bro. I think I was just up too late partying the other day. And nah, I eventually figured it out, dude.” I conveniently hid the fact that I copied the answers off of some nerd.

“Good, good.” Mr. Martin smiled. “I won’t leave you too long. I know you two have your hands full with practice today. Hmmm…Still wearing that hat, I see. It suits you well, Aiden.” I saw him write something down in a notebook as I left. Mr. Martin was always cool. I felt like he understood me and my brother better than most teachers here. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for him, but for what? I quickly discarded that thought because it wasn’t important to me.

What was important to me was hitting the gym with my bros. I ditched class again, I don’t even remember what the class was anyways. Probably nothing important. As long as I pass and get to stay on the team, I couldn’t care less about how badly I do in school. I’m basically only here because I got some fancy scholarship.

At the gym, I always pushed myself to lift the heaviest weights. All of my bros were impressed with how much I could lift. Must run in the blood. After school, I went to practice with Aaron. We shared a room at the dorms, and on the weekends, we always went to the biggest parties our school had to offer. We always bragged to each other about what girls we slept with that night, almost like it was a competition. Man, this was the life. I never felt like I understood Aaron on a personal level until recently, but man, we were the luckiest pair of brothers in the school.

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