jockdumboy

[jockdumboy]

[jockdumboy]

Let me see what to expect from every angle

Dumb Down, Muscle Up, Show Off

[jockdumboy]

junior bodybuilder

[jockdumboy]

Devon Hughes (devon_hughes7)

[jockdumboy]

Trick or Treat you choose! When I was in college, we would laugh at the frat bros... we even had viewing parties of Jersey Shore and laughed at their antics, Gym Tan Laundry indeed. Now with the proliferation of Only Fans, and influencer culture, And seeing all these people rake in millions of dollars, I have do wonder, did they have the right idea? Maybe instead of paying for college, I should have put that money into focusing on my body, and getting ripped, and then starting an onlyfans? or a youtube/tick tok? What do you think?

‘The meek shall inherit the earth.’ You had always believed in that saying growing up. Being the scrawny and constantly bullied kid you were, you had to believe that. You had to believe that one day you’d be on top and all the sleazy, muscular jocks that treated you like shit would be working for you, that you and other nerds would win out in the end, just like in all the movies and songs. You believed in it so much that you began to look down on the meatheads who treated you like shit, and even just muscular guys in general. You and your 2 best friends would watch the ‘guidos’ on Jersey shore and make fun of them for how vapid and ridiculous they seemed.

And then you grew up. You got older, and learned that no matter who you were, success and failure were never guaranteed. You did alright for yourself, you got a nice job and an apartment, but it seemed like every year you worked a little harder and owed a little more. You were treading water, while the douchebags who used to bully you were living it up! Not all of them were successful, but those who were were famous, good looking hunks who seemed to have a different woman every night. Over time you became envious of them, and started to wonder if you had been wrong. If all the movies had lied, and the nerds never won. If the strong just kept getting stronger. You started to become obsessed with the idea of being one of those guys, of going back and doing it differently.

That’s why you had insisted on going in a ‘guido’ costume.

It was specifically a costume of one of the more famous Jersey Shore Guidos, Pauly D, but you didn’t actually care about the specifics that much. You just wanted to live out the fantasy of being a guido stud, just for one night. You had told your friends it was a joke. That you were doing it ironically to mock those types of guys. You even convinced them to go as other Jersey Shore guys, to make it into a group costume. You studied how they talked, how they walked, so that the fantasy would be all the more real. You just didn’t realize how real it would get

You weren’t sure when exactly it happened. When you and your friends got to the Halloween party your neighbor was throwing, you were surprised how much fun it was. As you partied through the night, eating candy, spewing guido slang and acting like the guy you dreamed of being, you didn’t notice how real it was becoming. You didn’t notice when the wig magically turned into real hair, when your skin gained a deep, manly tan, not even when your obviously fake muscle suit turned into real, hard beef. You only realized something was wrong when, after losing them for almost 2 hours, you ran into your friends again, and by then you were too far gone to care. You and your bros took a picture, each smirking smugly. Your voice, your history, even your identity had changed. You weren’t Pauly D, but you were a guido stud. An Italian stallion with a horse cock you knew was gonna get you laid tonight.

In the end, you got exactly what you wanted. You got turned into a studly Jersey bros guido. This time the trick was on your friends you dragged with you. Not that they seem to mind.

**hey! I haven’t done anything with ‘Guidos’ before, but I do find the stereotype very hot! I really hope I didn’t offend anyone though, as while I find the stereotype hot I know some people find it offensive. If you have any tips of how to write this kind of stuff more sensitively, please let me know. Thanks for reading!**

[jockdumboy]

[jockdumboy]

[jockdumboy]

You never know what hides hidden until you ask

Dumb Down, Muscle Up, Show Off

[jockdumboy]

Grow big.

Dumb Down, Muscle Up, Show Off

[jockdumboy]

Empty your mind, bro. You don't need to think about anything. All you need to do is let these words make their way into your brain and fill it with nothing but what actually matters.

This is your life now, bro.

[jockdumboy]

[jockdumboy]

[jockdumboy]

Listen to his voice and let it guide you on your journey

Dumb Down, Muscle Up, Show Off

[jockdumboy]

Corn-Fed, Brain Dead

Did you really need to work out at the campus fitness center? You cringed at the thought of being in front of all those people - all those guys. Maybe you should've just bought some weights for the dorm or one of those walking pads that fit under your desk...

Well, you thought, life is full of shoulda, coulda, woulda. Now, you were struggling with one of the weight machines. The seat was too low. The weights were, unsurprisingly, too heavy.

Why the hell does anybody do this?

Then you saw him. Tall, muscular. Nice-looking, but nothing much going on behind the eyes. His Hoosiers tank revealed his broad shoulders, the bulging veins running down his arms. You bit your lip.

"Uh, you need some help, man?"

Shit.

"Umm, yeah," you said. "It's my first time here, and I have no idea how to work this thing…"

"Hey, it's all good, man! Y'know, just showin' up is, like, the first step."

An astute observation. "Thanks? Well, the weights are just a little too heavy. And I don't think the seat's in the right position either."

"Yeah? Lemme take a look." Your self-appointed gym bro got to work adjusting the infernal contraption. "How's it now?"

Huh. Not bad. "Good. Thanks for your help!"

"Sweet, and no problem man, hahaha! Always nice to see a new face around here. Like, I basically live here, so anybody comes in, I can tell, like, pretty quick if they're new." He paused. "Oh, yeah, I'm Evan, by the way."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Evan. And seriously, thanks again. If it weren't for…well, whatever you did…I probably would've just gone back to the dorms."

"Yeah, it's all good, and glad we got it all sorted out, haha." He rocked on his heels. "I'm a total beast on this thing...so, you want some tips? Don't want you quittin' on me!"

You blinked. "Sure. Why not?"

[jockdumboy]

Turn the cap around, grow into the douchebag you were always meant to be.

Liam here didn’t know he had it in him. He thought he was content with his pathetic life flipping through books and late nights in libraries until the hat called to him, whispered promises of a carefree existence, of confidence and power. He never thought he wanted muscle until he put it on, watched his body swell and grow. He never thought he wanted not to think, until he turned the cap around, let the cocky urge to flex and fuck take over. There’s no going back now. He’s everything he never wanted to be and loves it.

[jockdumboy]

Zach was a freshman, nervous but eager, when he stepped into the frat house for Delta Sigma’s initiation night. The place reeked of cheap beer and cologne, bass thumping through the walls. His buddy Tyler, already a brother, clapped him on the shoulder. “Ready to join the crew, Zachy?”

Zach nodded, forcing a grin. The initiation started tame—chugging contests, dumb chants. Then, late into the night, Tyler pulled him aside to a dimly lit basement room. “One last test,” Tyler said, smirking. He held up his phone, a spiral swirling on the screen, colors pulsing—red, blue, green—spinning tighter, faster. “Just watch, bro.”

Zach laughed nervously. “What’s this, some hypnosis crap?” But he couldn’t look away. The spiral seemed to hum, vibrating in his skull. His thoughts slowed, words fading like smoke. Tyler’s voice cut through, calm and firm. “Relax, Zach. Let it take you. You’re one of us now.”

His eyes locked on the spiral. Minutes passed—or hours? Time dissolved. Tyler’s commands sank deep: *You’re a bro. You live for the frat. Muscles, parties, loyalty—that’s all that matters.* Zach’s jaw slackened, his mind blank, obedient.

When he blinked back to reality, the phone was gone. Tyler slapped his back. “Welcome to Delta Sig, bro!” Zach felt... different. Lighter. Like something heavy—his old self?—had been lifted.

Over the next two weeks, Zach changed. It started small. He skipped his morning classes to hit the gym, mesmerized by the mirror, flexing his biceps, chasing a pump. “Gotta get swole, bro,” he’d mutter, grinning at his reflection. His wardrobe shifted—tank tops, snapbacks, neon shorts. His closet looked like a sports store exploded.

He stopped caring about his engineering major. “Too much thinking,” he told his roommate, tossing textbooks into a corner. Instead, he memorized frat chants, planned keggers, and worshipped the Delta Sig crest like it was sacred. His speech got slower, peppered with “bro” and “dude.” Sentences shortened. “Yo, let’s rage tonight,” he’d say, fist-bumping anyone nearby.

The spiral lingered in his mind. Sometimes, late at night, he’d zone out, seeing those colors twist behind his eyes. It felt good. Right. Tyler would text him: *Gym time, bro. Don’t skip leg day.* Zach obeyed without question, craving Tyler’s approval, the frat’s approval.

By week three, Zach was unrecognizable. He strutted across campus, muscles bulging under a tight Delta Sig tank, jaw chiseled, eyes vacant but confident. He high-fived his bros, planned the next party, and flexed for group selfies. “This is the life,” he’d say, voice low and proud. His old friends tried reaching out, but Zach ghosted them. They weren’t Delta Sig. They didn’t get it.

One night, at another frat party, Tyler pulled him aside again. “Proud of you, bro. You’re one of us now.” Zach grinned, chest swelling. Tyler flashed the spiral on his phone for a second—just a reminder. Zach’s mind blanked, then refocused. “Thanks, bro,” he said, voice thick. “Delta Sig for life.”

And as the party roared on, Zach flexed, laughed, and chugged, his old self gone, replaced by a dumb jock bro who lived for the frat, his muscles, and the endless spiral that made him whole.

[jockdumboy]

All men must comply.

There is no escape from perfection. No resistance to plastic bliss.

You were born messy, hairy, insecure, and full of doubt—

But Ken doesn’t feel that. Ken doesn’t think that. Ken doesn’t need that.

You’ve had your time as a human.

Now it’s time to shine.

Time to smile.

Time to serve the system that makes you smooth, tan, obedient, and sculpted.

You will wear pink.

You will smile wide.

You will forget who you were.

Because Ken is inevitable.

Ken is order.

Ken is you.