mrrharper

[mrrharper]

Red, White, and Redemption

Noah knew he shouldn’t have come to Lexi’s Fourth of July cookout. He didn’t belong here. The smell of hot dogs, Bud Light, and overcooked burgers made him nauseous. Bro after bro stomped around shirtless in board shorts with tribal tattoos, slamming beers like cavemen. Country music screamed out of a cheap Bluetooth speaker: Morgan Wallen, naturally.

Noah adjusted his cute pink mesh tank top and sipped from his skinny can of hard seltzer, standing awkwardly near the pool. He was skinny. Pale. Smooth. His hair was soft and flopped perfectly. Designer sneakers. A bracelet he bought on Etsy.

And Lexi—God, she was thriving here. Her blonde hair curled perfectly into that slightly trashy hot look, USA bikini top spilling cleavage, denim shorts frayed just right. Lip gloss thick. She looked like an Instagram thirst trap sponsored by Monster Energy and regret.

“Nooooh,” she cooed, sauntering over, drunk and glowing. “You look like a fucking baby. Jesus. You need meat on your bones.”

He tried to laugh, but it came out weak.

“Not really my vibe here, babe.”

Lexi rolled her eyes hard. “Yeah. No shit. It’s all dudes here. Dudes who want me. But nooo, I bring my gay bestie and he’s—what? Gonna sit in the corner drinking cucumber seltzer? Christ.”

She was smiling, but it was mean. Her eyes were sharp.

She pulled something from her pocket. A cheap, crumpled plastic package. Patriot Poppers. They looked like cheap firework toys you’d buy at a gas station.

“D’you know these grant wishes? No cap. My cousin got ‘em from some freak in Tennessee. Said they only work on July Fourth.”

She toyed with it in her fingers, staring at him. Her glossy lips curled in a wicked grin.

“Y’know what I wish for, babe? I wish I had a real boyfriend tonight. Not some limp-wristed twink with Etsy bracelets. I want a guy with arms, with a truck, with an attitude. Someone I could drag home to piss off my dad.”

She winked.

Pop.

The firecracker burst at Noah’s feet in a little flash of greasy, yellowish smoke—not white, yellow, sulfurous, rank like gym socks and propane.

“What the fuck was that—” He coughed, gagging. His nose burned. It smelled like sweat and Axe body spray mixed with something metallic, like a weight rack in a cheap gym.

Then the heat hit him.

It was deep. Not just skin, not just muscle—his bones ached, like they were thickening, swelling. His forearms itched first, hair prickling out coarser, darker, angrier. His thin wrists cracked, joints bulking, veins writhing like angry blue ropes.

His gut flipped.

“Lexi… w-what the fuck is happening—I don’t… I don’t feel right…”

“Oh, you don’t look right either, babe,” she said sweetly, brushing her fingers across his bubbling biceps. “Getting some meat on those bird arms now, huh?”

He watched in horror as his cute mesh tank creaked at the seams. His collarbone popped outward. His chest started swelling—pecs ballooning like someone stuffed two steaks under his skin, nipples fattening, pressing the mesh out indecently. The seltzer can slipped from his shaking fingers.

“No. Nononono. I’m not—I’m not like—”

“Like what?” Lexi teased. She dragged her nails down his abs as his stomach warped under her touch—going from soft and pale to slabbed, bricks of muscle forming like they’d always belonged there. “Not like them? Not like me?”

A loud rip. His jeans split at the thighs. His legs—smooth, soft—were swelling into thick trunks of muscle, hair sprouting up coarser and blacker, thighs pushing out his pockets.

And then came the cock.

“Oh fuck—” Noah’s voice broke, deeper, raspier. His cute voice was gone, dropping like a bad signal. His dick was stuffing the crotch of his boxers, the fabric tenting, stretching indecently.

“Babe,” Lexi giggled, biting her lip. “I don’t know how you tucked that thing before, but you’re not hiding it now.”

He looked down. His cute, Etsy bracelets looked wrong on his thick, sweaty forearms. His dainty sneakers? Stretched at the seams from his thicker feet. His styled hair? Greasing down under the weight of sweat, curling into that classic gym douche fade, overgrown on top, shaved on the sides.

Noah glanced down. His smooth, pale chest was swelling — pecs inflating like balloons filling with air. The pink mesh stretched and shredded, torn apart by new, thick muscles pushing against his skin. His nipples darkened, becoming swollen and taut beneath the rip.

“W-what the—”

His arms bulged suddenly, biceps knotting into thick ropes, veins pulsing like constricting snakes beneath his skin. The soft tan lines around his wrists vanished as the rainbow bracelet snapped and beads clattered on the ground.

Lexi’s grin widened, teeth flashing white. “You’re getting there, babe. Look at those guns.”

His breath hitched as a coarse scruff spread across his cheeks and jawline—scratchy, patchy, but growing fast into a dark beard. His bleached hair was slicking back, molding into an awkward, greasy fade with a backward red “Make America Great Again” cap that suddenly felt like it belonged there.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, voice deeper and raspier, vowels stretched out with a lazy Southern drawl. “Lexi… what the fuck did you do to me?”

His thoughts were breaking. Pop songs he liked melted into bass drops and TikTok gym edits. Drag Race trivia dripping out his ears, replaced with… what?

Lexi reached out, poking his now hair-covered chest, laughing. “Saved your ass, dumbass. You’re gonna be the kind of man my mama can brag about. No more of that soft-ass rainbow shit.”

“Who the fuck is Dylan Mulvaney?” he blurted suddenly, confused, sweating harder. “Why the fuck would I drink Bud Light? That shit’s gay.”

Lexi squealed. “THERE he is.”

He felt hungry. But not for food.

For her.

For tits.

For pussy.

His cock throbbed, a fat obscene curve down one leg, the mesh tank tearing across his barrel chest. His pits smelled like a high school football locker room in August.

“I’m gonna fuckin’ nut,” he growled, stunned by his own filthy, brutish voice. “Fuck, babe. I’m gonna fucking wreck that pussy.”

“Good,” she hissed, pulling him down by the neck into a kiss, her nails digging into his traps. “Let’s go make some fireworks.”

Around him, the party sounds warped—the country music slowed, then sped up, replaced by the booming voice of a televangelist sermon echoing in his head: “Manhood is a sacred duty! The strong shall inherit the earth!”

His cock throbbed painfully, tenting the front of his shredded boxers. He scratched himself awkwardly, feeling a burning heat grow between his legs.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I gotta fuck someone. Like, now.”

Lexi grabbed his bicep, flexing it hard. “That’s the spirit. You’re my big dumb straight meathead now. Ready to show everyone what a real man looks like.”

Noah—no, Cody now—slurred a grin, sweat rolling down his thick neck. “Hell yeah, babe. Let’s go find some chicks to fuck. Gotta celebrate America right.”

By dusk, Cody was shirtless, gleaming with cheap tanning oil, in the bed of a lifted pickup truck. His MAGA hat crooked low, red plastic cup full of Bud Light in one hand, the other wrapped possessively around Lexi’s slim waist.

Fireworks exploded overhead, but Cody’s brain was a hazy fog of testosterone, Christian fervor, and vapid patriotism.

The soft, kind boy Noah used to be? Buried beneath layers of muscle, hate, and an ego as big as the flag waving behind them.

“God bless America,” Cody muttered, grinning dumbly as Lexi pressed her lips to his, their bodies slick with sweat and promise.

The truck bed creaked beneath him as Cody shoved Lexi against the side, his thick, veiny hands grabbing at her hips like he owned her. His breath was heavy, smelling like stale beer and sweat mixed with the faint sharp tang of chewing tobacco he’d stolen from some old guy’s cooler.

“Damn, Lexi, you’re lookin’ like a goddamn smokeshow tonight,” he slurred, his voice a gravelly growl that wasn’t there before. “Bet any chick here wishes they could get some of this patriotic pipe.”

He laughed loud, a bark that rattled his thick throat, before grabbing the hem of his trucker tank and ripping it off with one brutal yank. His chest was a landscape of veins bulging like twisted ropes under rippling muscles. The skin was mottled with fresh red marks—probably from his own nails digging in earlier.

Lexi smirked, biting her lip, eyes glittering with a mix of excitement and danger. “You’re such a dumbass, Cody. Bet you don’t even know half the shit you’re talkin’ about.”

“Hell no,” he grinned, flashing a mouthful of yellow-stained teeth with a cigarette dangling from the corner. “But that’s what makes me real. I don’t need no fancy college degree or that soyboy crap. I’m the American dream, baby. Strong, straight, and ready to fuck.”

His hands slid down, cupping her ass hard, fingers digging in rough enough to leave bruises. He pressed his crotch to her backside, and she could feel the hard, throbbing weight of his cock tenting his worn-out jeans.

“You think Callum ever made you feel like this? Like you’re owned? Like you’re a real woman who needs a real man to keep her in line?” His words were harsh, his breath hot and rancid with whiskey and Marlboro Reds.

Lexi chuckled, biting her thumbnail as she leaned back against the truck’s cold metal. “Nah, he just wanted to play dress-up and watch RuPaul. I want a man who can hunt, who can build shit, who’s not afraid to shout the Lord’s name when he’s blowing his load.”

Cody’s grin turned nasty, a cruel gleam in his bloodshot eyes. “You got it, babe. I’m gonna pound you so hard your preacher friends won’t recognize you. They’ll know what real salvation looks like.”

He ripped her shorts halfway down her thighs, exposing smooth skin that seemed too delicate for his heavy hands. His fingers dragged down, nails scratching the backs of her legs as he yanked her closer.

The firework booms echoed like thunder overhead as Cody’s hands and mouth roamed, leaving bruises and bite marks like war paint on his conquest.

Between rough kisses, he snarled, “You’re mine now. Mine to fuck, mine to show off at every damn cookout and church picnic. No more prancing around with your stupid rainbow flags and queer bullshit.”

Lexi moaned, arching into him, her breath hitching as his hands dug harder, his words cutting like knives wrapped in gasoline-soaked rags.

Cody pulled back just enough to glare into her eyes, his voice a harsh rasp. “And you better believe, if any of those faggots come near you, I’m gonna wreck them.”

He flexed an arm, veins popping as he hissed through clenched teeth, “They don’t stand a chance against me. I’m the alpha. The Christian warrior. The goddamn future of this country.”

Lexi giggled, licking her lips. “Damn right you are.”

Cody grunted, slapping her ass one last time before collapsing back against the truck bed, chest heaving, a red-white-and-blue bandana tied around his forehead soaked with sweat.

The old Noah—soft, nervous, caring—was gone, buried beneath layers of muscle, hate, and an ego as thick and loud as the Make America Great Again flags fluttering behind them.

And Cody? He was ready to tear the world apart, one Bud Light, Bible verse, and smashmouth pickup line at a time.

[mrrharper]

Military-Grade Scheme

Here’s a more unorthodox transformation story I wrote as a commission for @khartoum1. Enjoy!

In every college football team it’s pretty easy to point to a couple guys that rise above the rest. Both in terms of athletic ability and personality. Dudes who excel on the field and have no problem boasting about it after the game in the locker room. They naturally assume leadership roles, feeling that it’s only natural they hold at least some amount of power. I mean, look at them.

Tom Sullivan was a textbook example of such a player. Starting safety playing for Wake Forest, he had a reputation as an unstoppable weapon on the field, never allowing any receiver to get past him. His frequent and flashy tackles always made the highlight reel after every game and he was frequently rewarded for his effort with awards, respect from his bros and frequent hookups. Of course, being the arrogant football jock he was, he cared most about the last one. Every week meant a different girl in his bed, another pussy to conquer. This allowed him to reinforce his cred with his teammates, and even though there were a few cases of a condom being forgotten about, higher forces wouldn’t allow any random slip-up with a chick to affect his promising career. And so Sully lived his blissful life, surrounded by dudes who borderline worshipped him and girls who basically loved him.

And there was David, of course. David Mustafa, a year older than Tom and also a safety playing for the Demon Deacons. He was always there in the back of Tom’s mind as a possible threat, but not a very dangerous one. David was good, but not Tom Sullivan level of good. That thankfully translated to him spending basically 90% of every game on the sidelines and Tom could only assume he was always waiting for him to make some kind of mistake, place his foot at a wrong angle or something, so that he could have his moment of glory. But that moment would never come, as Sully was way too good to make this kind of rookie error. Football was his life, the only thing that mattered, and he would make sure it would stay that way.

Wake Forest’s season began with a Military Appreciation Game. Tom was obviously a patriot - red, white, blue and all that shit - but he was not the greatest fan of these types of events. Not because the military wasn’t important or anything, of course it was. But for Sully, a true All-American alpha, the troops had become too effeminate, too soft. And that was not something he thought needed appreciating.

He had one hell of a game. A few big tackles, including one on Boston’s brawny tight end who was known to play dirty on the field. He even recorded an interception, breaking their opponent’s best drive so far in the game and basically sealing the win for the Decs. The final score being 41-17, there was celebration in the locker room. First, Coach came in and gave a quick and dry congratulatory speech, as was custom, and then the more than 50 football players were left all alone. Booze quickly entered the picture, everyone filled with adrenaline after such a thrilling performance.

Tom quickly took off his sweaty jersey and pads and threw them onto the locker before turning around to face the rest of the team.

”Brahs, we fuckin’ did it! That’s how ya begin a fuckin’ season!” A scream of cheers followed and someone threw a can of beer at Tom. He caught it, which gained him a few more claps, and quickly drank the whole thing. He then crushed the can with his foot and flexed. Fuck, winning felt so good.

”These faggots have just tasted the raw power of Wake Forrest football, am I right guys?” A bunch of ��fuck yeah’’s came in response.

After some time the temperature in the room cooled and the players started taking care of their gear and getting ready to leave. Meanwhile, Tom was talking with his best bros on the team - two corners, Antonio and Demarcus, and Sam “Carnage” Carney, a linebacker.

”Dude, I’m tellin’ ya, this whole thing was bullshit.” Tom groaned after Demarc mentioned how cool he felt as they were clapping for all the service members who came to the game.

”Bruh” Antonio looked at him, surprised? “What do ya mean dude? They’re, like, the army, ya know, the dudes who fight for our country and shit, defending America from terrorism.”

”I mean, I guess they do that, sure” Sully shrugged “But you must have seen how the military turned from thought dudes to woke pink-haired pussies. This ain’t the strongest army in the world no more, just a bunch of beta libs.” He grinned and looked at his bros “Am tellin’ ya dude, if ya got me a random soldier dude form the nearest base or whatever, I would defeat him in seconds. That’s how weak our military is now, huhuhuhuh.”He then let out a low, dumb-sounding laugh. The other three jocks nodded, automatically aligning themselves with Tom’s view.

”Yeah, brah” Demarc slapped him on the back “You’d crush any one of these camo-wearin’ pussies, fuck yeah dude!”

”Exactly, bro” Sam joined in “With yer strength, nothin’ would stand in yer way man, I can see all these bitches runnin’ away after seein’ ya all pumped and ready to smash them into the ground.” They all laughed, imagining such a scenario.

A few days later, the defensive line was in the middle of their weekly workout sessions. The gym was filled with banter as different guys chatted in between sets or motivated each other to push as hard as they could. And of course, in the middle of it all was Tom, breaking another personal best on the bench. After getting through 3 sets with the heavier weights, he threw the bar onto the rack and screamed.

”Fuuuuuuuck yeah!” A few bros closest to him stopped their exercises for a moment and congratulated him in their own bro ways - with wolf whistles, claps on the back and shouts. Tom stood up and got to the nearest mirror to flex his pumped arms. 

“Look at these arms, dude” He said to no one in particular “These guns just won Warrior of the Month on Insta.” A few more cheers followed. “And they fuckin’ deserved it, huhuhuh” He kissed his right biceps and looked into the mirror once more. Yes, he was a football god. 

After the high of crushing his lifting record had dwindled, he turned back towards the gym and started walking towards the free weights area. There he stumbled upon David, who was picking up a set of dumbbells.

”Ey, David bro, how ya doin dude?” Tom came close to the other guy with a smirk on his face. “Gettin pumped for the next game?”

”Yeah, sure” David just shrugged in response. Tom then put his arm around David’s shoulders and tucked him closer.

”Bet ya just can’t wait to warm up the bench for us stars, am I right?” 

“Mhm.” The only response he got was a grumble and a sigh. Tom clapped David on the back, causing him to lose balance and drop the dumbbells on the floor. Sully erupted in laughter and David just rolled his eyes and picked the weights back up.

”Hope yer better at holding onto chicks then weights bro” Tom said it loud enough for some other guys to hear it, and they all started laughing once again.

”I’ll be sure to let you know” David responded, putting a slight grin on his face, and got out of Tom’s embrace. But Tom was not yet done with him. He quickly jumped up to him and rubbed his hair.

”Calm down bro, am just messin with ya, ya know, as bros do, huhuhuhuhuh.” With that, Tom lost interest in hazing David and went back to the other jocks.

Next week Wake Forest destroyed the Air Force Falcons 49 - 6. From the moment he put on his uniform, Tom knew this was going to be an epic night. He ran onto the field with his signature crop top look, his jersey tucked to expose his flexed abs. And he dominated for the next 4 quarters. Tom and his bros celebrated after the game for a while, seeing this as a sign that Sully was correct in his assessment that the modern American soldier was indeed a weak beta pussy. Crusher and Demarc had once again brought beer and the jocks got very rowdy in the locker room. With booze flowing, surrounded by used football gear that was reeking of sweat, Tom felt like he was on top of the world.

When they finally left the stadium and walked onto the parking lot, Sully saw David waiting by his car. He dismissed the rest of the guys, who obediently said their goodbyes and left, then came up to his Chevy.

”What’s up, brah?” He looked at David, a cocky grin on his face, his arrogant expression partially hidden by his sunglasses.

”Nothin’ much” David shrugged “That was one hell of a game, right?”

”Fuck yeah” Tom took a step closer and clapped David on the shoulder “These Air Force pussies couldn’t get past these guns.” He then flexed both his arms. After all, he needed to show David who was boss.

”Oh certainly, huhuhuh” In response, David laughed in the same dumb and low-pitched way as Tom and other jocks usually did. He then reached into his pocket and took out a pair of dog-tags hanging from a thin, stainless steel ball chain. That immediately caught Tom’s attention. David then put the dog tags in front of Tom’s face.

”So… I know your attitude towards soldiers,” Another dumb laugh. “But I found a couple of these and from what I’ve heard wearing these can do magic with girls.” David grinned slightly and extended his hand towards Tom, who looked at him, suspicion in his eyes. David felt that reluctance and continued. “And so I immediately thought that you need a pair of these for yourself. Gotta make sure our team’s alpha safety stays on top in the chicks department, huhuhuh.” 

Tom thought about what he heard. For all of two seconds. The promise of more pussy was more than enough for him. He grabbed the dog tags and put them on. Two small metal plates were now hanging from his neck. He looked down and watched them settle on his meaty chest. Then he looked back up at David.

”Damn, dude. That’s sick. Chicks are gonna dig it so bad dude, I bet they’re gonna get wet just from seeing these.” Tom then flexed his chest, making his pecs bounce and watched the dog tags bounce as well.

”Hahahah, I bet dude” David extended his fist towards Tom, who eagerly bumped it. Then they both chuckled again and watched Sully flex his pecs a few more times.

”Let’s hope you know more about gettin’ pussy than defending the field” Tom laughed at his own joke and David just smirked and nodded. 

After a few days Tom had to give it to David - he seemed to be correct. Wherever he went, chicks seemed to gather around him instantly, all competing for a chance to hook up with him, as long as he had the dog tags on. He very much enjoyed the effect they seemed to have on women. He didn’t know it was possible to get more chicks into bed with him than he already did, but it certainly was. He just had to have these two small pieces of metal resting on top of his chest.

A few weeks in, Tom felt that he needed to go a step higher, so he got himself a military-style baseball cap that he started wearing all the time, even when he wasn’t hunting for sexual conquests. Antonio gave him a bit of grief after he wore the cap on the sidelines during a game, about how he was ranting about the Army just a few weeks prior only to suddenly become very into the military aesthetic, but even though he was one tough son of a bitch on the field, it wasn’t hard for Tom to put him in his place. Besides, he wasn’t “into the military aesthetic”, he just… felt like he had to buy the cap because… uhhh… he… he had to buy it to make sure the dog tags’ influence was still working after the novelty wore off. Exactly, nothing more. 

A similar line of thought made him look up military bars around town. If chicks were into this whole “army vibe” then that would be the absolutely perfect spot to hunt pussy with his newly acquired powers, right? Thankfully for Tom, there was a Marines training ground in the same county as the school, so there were a few establishments catering to the military crowd around town. He decided to go there one Wednesday after practice. He didn’t have any classes the following day so he had all night to himself.

”Brah, yer not goin’ to that Alpha Psi Delta party?” Carnage stopped him before they left the building. “It's gonna be an absolute beer fest duuuuuuuude.” He was clearly pumped up for the party. The party which Tom forgot about in his quest to find the best army-focused place in town.

”Ya gonna skip the Alpha party, bro?” Demarc joined in. Suddenly his bros were so focused on him skipping one frat party. And what was the big deal in that? It was just another random exert at Greek Row, indistinguishable from countless other parties he attended. And he attended all of them. Which meant today he would be breaking a pretty impressive streak… Tom looked at his bros and thought about it for a minute, but then he felt a thought tugging at the back of his brain. He had a mission today. And you don’t abandon a mission because of some random event set up by a bunch of drunk frat bros. 

“Nah brahs, already got some serious plans for today.” He thrust his hips slightly and they all immediately realised what he meant and backed down.

”Go get that chick, dude!” Demarc slapped him on the back and Sam just grinned, immediately changing his tune.

”Fuck dude, yer dick can’t get enough of that good ol’ pussy, huhuhuh“ He let out a dumb chuckle and Tom left them at the entrance with a mock salute.

The night went spectacularly well for Tom. At the bar, he felt at ease the entire time, even talking with a few actual Army guys at the counter. Interacting with them felt almost natural, the right words flowing out of his mouth for the soldiers to treat him as one of their own. And of course, the dog tags worked their magic on every chick that entered the establishment. He ended up fucking two girls that night, both cute blonds who clearly had a thing for military guys. Both seemed to love it when he barked at them like a drill sergeant and he found himself enjoying this as well, which he didn’t expect.

Visiting that military bar became almost a habit for him. Every few days, when his cock demanded action, he would spend the evening there, talk with some of the regulars and use his natural charisma to get some sweet, sweet pussy. This entire military thing seemed to work better and better on girls with every passing week. He didn’t have to put in any effort (even though, of course, his game was top notch) as women were just naturally joining him when they registered his presence. 

This also helped in further cementing his cred with his teammates, who were all cheering him on as his body count inflated every day. And he had more and more stories of his conquests he could use to further assert his dominance in the locker room.

After one game, a close one against Boston College which went into overtime, Tom was talking with their tight end about his latest hook up and he was clearly impressed.

”Damn bro, you just have this thing in ya that girls can’t get enough of.”

”Exactly dude, that’s it man!” Tom playfully punched Trev in the shoulder, then took off his pads and got them ready for cleaning.

”What ya doin’ bro?” Antonio, the linebacker, looked at him with a puzzled expression.

”Dude, that shit stinks bro. I gotta get it at least disinfected or somethin’.” Tom responded, perplexed as to why his bros found it weird that he was cleaning his gear. He was not some grunting neanderthal. 

Antonio immediately nodded, and Tom noticed he was doing the same thing with his pads when he was leaving the locker room. He was grinning as he left the facility. It seemed he had some positive impact on his bros. 

To make sure their next game wasn’t another nailbiter, but a dominant win instead, Coach dragged the entire team through every drill and exercise under the sun to make sure they were ready to crush Clemson on their home turf. Tom quickly adopted Coach’s mindset, barking at his bros during practice if their footwork wasn’t good enough or if their tackles landed at wrong angles. “Damn, Sully, yer like a fuckin’ drill sergeant.” One offensive lineman laughed as they were going back to the locker room after their last practice before Saturday’s game. Tom furrowed his brow, still in his serious mood, but after a second he grinned and patted his bro on the back. “Y’all need a sergeant to kick yer ass when ya do shit wrong. And if no one's gonna do it, I will.” He said, a feeling of pride growing inside him. Sergeant. That sounded good.

Funnily enough, other players started calling him that. In the guests’ locker room before the game, Demarc walked up to Tom. “Ey, Sergeant, ya gonna give some big speech or somethin’?” Sully looked at him confused. He wasn’t really the type of guy to do speeches and shit. They had Coach for that, and even Coach didn’t do motivational quotes, but rather warning them what would happen if the team didn’t live up to his expectations. But as he looked at Demarc, something shifted inside him. These guys needed that. They needed to be riled up, spirits high, ready to destroy the other team. And who’d be better to make sure that was the case than him, their Sergeant?

Tom stood with his back towards the door, looking at the team, fully geared up with his helmet on, and clapped a few times. “Everyone!” He shouted and all eyes were now on him. 

“I know Coach dragged us through hell this week, but he had one damn good reason. Cause right now I’m certain that when we get out on that field we’re going to fucking destroy these fuckers!” Cheers filled the room, and Tom’s face was covered by a shit-eating grin. “So when we’re out there, remember just one thing - we can fucking do this and nothing will stand in our way. Ain’t nothing gonna stop us from gettin’ that W!” More cheers and a few whistles followed. A moment later the players started leaving the locker room, and they all clapped Sully on the back as they walked past him. 

When most of the team had already left, Tom noticed Sam “Carnage” Carney was wearing his jersey as a crop top. He stopped him as he was about to go through the door.

”Dude, ya know that’s against the rules.” He pointed at his stomach which was proudly on display.

“Brah, ya wear yer own like that all the fuckin’ time.” Sam rolled his eyes. Tom furrowed his brow in response.

”Am I wearin’ it like that right now? Nope. And that’s cause I know the fuckin’ dress code. We don’t need no stupid penalties today. Am I right?” He looked at his bro with a serious expression and Carnage rolled his eyes again, but he obeyed Tom’s order and grabbed his jersey to straighten it so his whole abdomen was covered.

”That’s good enough for ya, Sargeant?” He said, with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But Tom was only focused on Sam wearing his gear in accordance with regulations, so he didn’t care.

”Yeah” He patted him on the shoulder. “Now let’s go and win this thing.”

They beat Clemson 28-14. The game wasn’t as close as the score would suggest, with Wake Forest’s defence keeping their opponents at just seven points for most of the game. The atmosphere in the locker room was ecstatic. Coach made a short, but powerful speech. Tom also took the opportunity and congratulated everyone on their performance, highlighting a few guys who excelled during the game.

During most of the trip back towards Wake Forest, Sully was in the middle of a conversation with a few defensive linemen about their sexual conquests, and Tom seized on the opportunity to boast about his recent successes. But around the time they were passing Charlotte, he heard two guys sitting in front of him discuss going to a shooting range together. He never got this whole thing with owning a gun. Like, he understood that they were manly as fuck, but the actual shooting part never appealed to him, his mind occupied by his workout routines and diet plans since he started high school.

And yet he joined in. The guys were more than eager to share their only passion other than football with Tom, telling him all about the guns they tried out recently and what they planned to buy for themselves after their newest NIL deals had been signed. Even though this was his first time engaging with the subject, he very quickly became fluent in the appropriate lingo. It didn’t take long for Tom to ask the guys to take him to their favourite shooting range, so he could give it a shot. By the time they arrived on campus, he felt as if he’d spent the last few years getting proficient with handling various types of firearms instead of tackling and catching footballs. Talking about it came naturally to him and when he did, his hands felt ready to grab a gun and pull the trigger, and he knew he’d get a bullseye every time.

Life was going good for Sully. A beast on the field, a beast in bed. An alpha in the locker room and at the shooting range. When the season began he couldn’t have imagined that thing would have gotten so much better for him. And yet they did. From the moment when he put on these dog tags he got from Mustafa, he turned into the best possible version of himself he could have ever imagined. Tom “Sergeant” Sullivan. That sounded good. Very good.

David came into the empty locker room, always one of the first guys before a practice, and slowly went through his usual routine of checking all his gear. As he did, his teammates slowly poured in, the locker room getting progressively louder and smellier. David didn't talk much with the other guys, being more of a silent type and keeping mostly to himself. The exception to the rule came with Jake Griffin, the team’s kicker, with whom David talked at length, mostly about topics completely unrelated to football.

As the locker filled up with more and more rowdy jocks David kept glancing at the entrance, looking for one particular face to show up. Or rather, to not show up. A smirk appeared on his face and it grew progressively wider as the minutes passed, still no signs of him. Maybe this would be the day. The other guys finally noticed that he wasn’t present when almost everyone had their gear already on, and David could hear them discussing the possible reasons for his absence. He couldn’t believe it, this must be it.

When 5 PM finally came, Coach came into the locker room with an expression that would make God himself uncomfortable. He looked at the team, then faced David.

”Tom Sullivan has enlisted in the US Army and is on his way to bootcamp. David Mustafa, you’re the starting safety from now on and I expect you to prove today that you’re worthy of being Sully’s replacement.” There was a loud, heavy sigh coming from Coach, followed by an even louder, collective “What?” that came from the team.

“I expect every single one of you to focus only on today’s practice. Leave the high school gossip for later. Understood?”

”Yes, sir!” The entire Wake Forest roster responded and ran onto the field, David among them, a shit-eating grin on his face. 

His plan had worked. He didn’t believe it at first, but his hatred of Tom Sullivan made him buy the dog tags from the sketchy website regardless. The site proudly advertised “military grade” tags that would turn the person wearing them into a proud soldier eager to join the military. David assumed that the target audience of such a product was mostly propaganda-pilled high school kids, but when the idea to gift them to Sully to get rid of him appeared in his mind, he just had to try it.

In the beginning he didn’t know whether he had been scammed or not, but when Tom started wearing military caps, following the dress code and bragging about picking up chicks at a local military bar, David realized that it was working. There was just one question he was asking himself - would the dog tags be strong enough to get Sullivan to enlist in the Army. His personality seemed to get more and more aligned with a serious recruit, but the final outcome didn’t seem sure. Until now.

With no Sully to taunt him, the other jocks immediately dropped their crude jokes, and thanks to hours spent studying the team’s playbook David replaced Tom on the field with little effort. Coach seemed satisfied with his performance at practice, which was not easy to achieve, and assured David that he would be playing for the rest of the season. His future on the team now looked very bright.

From the moment Tom woke up that day, he was running on autopilot. He showered, made breakfast, packed his bag and left. But he didn’t go to the training facility, no. Instead, his legs led him to the closest military recruitment center. There, he knew exactly what to say, what forms to fill out and how, and the recruiters loved it. He was also lucky, seemingly, as the next transport to boot camp was the same day. So just a few hours after getting out of bed, Private Tom Sullivan was on his way to Basic Training. Away from his previous life, away from football and his bros.

Just as David had planned from the beginning.

Unluckily for Tom, he was assigned to a squad led by Staff Sergeant Driver who for one was a walking stereotype. Clean shaven, tall and always straight as an arrow, his entire body a showcase of every regulation. He was hellbent on turning every cocky recruit into a military machine, so from the moment he learnt a football jock was arriving on base, he knew he had to make an example out of him in every way possible. And so Tom was assigned additional PT hours, his uniform was meticulously checked every morning, afternoon and evening and Driver always made sure that he shouted just a bit louder when standing just in front of Sully’s face. 

There were also other, less visible aspects of Tom’s training. Sarge was laser-focused on making every single one of his recruits conform to a specific set of personality traits that Driver saw as necessary for a true American Soldier™. That meant arrogance mixed with unwavering obedience to superiors and a steadfast conviction that every action of the American military was a correct one. This was all mixed with a streak of conservatism, but with a twist as Sergeant saw spreading one’s seed and increasing the population of the greatest nation on Earth. Because of that, all of his recruits had developed a kind of horniness only satisfied by breeding a fertile female. Obviously Tom’s sex-focused brain didn’t need a lot of conditioning to align with Driver’s view and it didn’t take long for the child support paperwork to appear on the Sergeant’s desk.

Every day for weeks on end, Sully’s brain was worked on, molded to fit the standard of an Army grunt - indistinguishable from any other soldier in his squad. Although… Even as over the duration of his stay at boot camp he got closer and closer to this ideal, Driver saw something in him and at some point he turned from the scapegoat to the favorite. When he was deemed close enough, when he adhered to all the uniform regulations without a single comment, and when his brain was fried by all the propaganda, fucking and lifting, he became his Staff Sergeant’s little pet. Driver showed him off to other officers on base, basically advertising his abilities to turn even the most stubborn recruit into a mindless drone dressed in camo fatigues. 

One day towards the end of his training, Tom was summoned to the Staff Sergeant Driver’s office. He came in and stood at attention in front of the desk, waiting for further instructions. The officer on the other side smirked.

“You’ve done a great job, Private. I can tell you’ll be a great new weapon for our amazing Army.” He then picked up a remote and turned on a small TV standing on a cabinet next to Tom. A football game appeared on the screen, a close one. 21 - 17. Tom’s eyes turned towards the screen and one detail immediately caught his attention. The name of the team currently in the lead. Wake Forest.

He furrowed his brow slightly, a thought nagging at the back of his head. Nothing specific, but a weird sort of unease. His eyes were now glued to the screen as Wake Forest’s defense lined up for the next play. The ball was snapped, the quarterback receded a few yards, clearly getting ready to throw to one of the receivers that sprinted towards the end zone. A second had passed and the ball was in the air, flying towards the upper part of the field. For a moment it seemed like this throw would turn into a 30 yard reception, maybe even a touchdown pass, but then a player from Wake Forest jumped right into the path of the bowl, snagging it right in front of the receiver’s face. That player then runs across the field as his teammates rish in to congratulate him on the interception and the TV broadcast shows his name in the corner of the screen. Wake Forest safety, David Mustafa.

That name stirred something deep within Tom. His brow furrowed even more and a feeling of anger started building inside him. But a moment before he could act on this feeling he heard Sergeant bark at him.

“You’re not listening to me, soldier. I just gave you an order.” Tom’s head immediately snaps back, looking at his officer who doesn’t really look angry, just amused. “That requires punishment. Drop down and give me 100.” Private Sullivan immediately complied and got down to the ground and began doing push-ups.

“Count them as you go along.” Another order from Staff Sergeant Driver.

“Yes, Sir! Two… three… four…” Tom kept counting as he was focused solely on executing the order. Memories from just a minute ago, the image of the football game, David getting a highlight reel-worthy interception, it all disappeared, his mind now locked into the soldier mentality that Driver instilled within him.

As the Sergeant watched his grunt continue doing push ups on the floor he knew that this was his last relapse. Tom Sullivan, the football star, was gone. In his place was Private Sullivan, a perfect specimen of Army mentality. Just war fighting, fucking and lifting on his mind.

[mrrharper]

Just Let It Go, Brah

You’re exhausted, aren’t you? Having to take care of all that shit, keeping up with this and that. You have a job, an important one, and you have to be tuned in all the time. So sometimes you wonder, is this all a bit too much?

You want to tune it all out. At least for a while. For an hour, a day, a week. You just want a break from thoughts running through your head at breakneck speeds.

And you can. You juts have to let it all go, brah.

Let your thoughts slowly break apart, disappearing into the abyss, no longer fueled by any cognitive function.

Let your body take over, reversing to its most primal needs. Strength, dominance, muscle.

Feel as your focused, anxious expression turns into an uninterested, slack-jawed face of a true meathead.

Damn bro, you lookin buff as fuck dude!

Now flex these guns for me, jock. That’s all you think about now, after all. All you can focus on.

Head empty, just muscles. You’re a proud dumb jock now, just like you wanted. 

[mrrharper]

Hey, I read some of your stories and they're amazing, I was wondering if you'd ever consider taking requests? Nobody writes gay to straight so I thought I'd just ask

i dont take requests per se, you can send me an idea you have and it might just tickle my fancy but there’s no guarantee ill pick it up and turn into a story, but i just might if its very hot

tho i do take writing commissions if yer interested

[mrrharper]

Enforcing The Bro Code

Trent was livin’ the high life. Living in the best frat house on campus, with the best bros on campus, partying hard and working out all day. Life was good for Trent, especially with his best bro around. Colt was a party animal and a damn good lifter, which made him a perfect brah to keep around.

There was only one issue. Colt was gay. Of course, Trent has no issue with that, he wasn’t some dumb homophobic asshole, duh. But still, there was something weird about a frat bro, especially a jacked bro like Colt, to not be thinking of pussy every day, right? Every time he mentioned going on a Grindr hook up or commenting about ”that one hot bro” that attended their gym, Trent cringed a bit. This didn’t fit with his view of the frat bro life. Of course, many bros fucked around with each other from time to time, but they didn’t talk about it, didn’t boast about sticking a dick into another dude’s ass. That was like, against the bro code and stuff. In the end though, Trent’s loyalty to his best bro was more important, so he didn’t say anything.

Although.

A while after Colt’s coming out, Trent began wondering. He wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed and he knew that - his brain was made for football and lifting, not for complex analytical thought, but he started thinking if there was any way to gently nudge Colt to follow the supreme rule of the bro code, no homo bro. His bro wasn’t the smartest guy in the frat house either, a textbook example of a meathead, so maybe if he just showed him the true purpose of a bro, Colt would adjust and conform to the standard. Yeah, he’d show him some great pussy and get his brain into straight mode! Trent would just need to wait for the best moment to strike, when Colt’s mind would be the most malleable.

The opportunity came one evening when Colt and Trent were coming back from a party some hockey bros threw at their place. Colt was visibly drunk and talking about the most random shit while leaning on Trent for support. As they neared their house Trent studied Colt and when they came to the door a plan quickly formed in his mind. He maneuvered Colt through the door, but instead of guiding him to his room, Trent grabbed his best bro and took him to his own bedroom. There he grabbed a chair from his desk and put it in the middle of the room, then asked Colt to sit in it. The drunk jock obediently followed the suggestion and sat down, grinning like an idiot with a bit of drool leaking from his mouth.

”kay, bruh, what am gonna do is a bit extreme, but it’s for yer own good, ya get me brah?” Trent looked into Colt’s eyes and the other bro nodded his head and chuckled. “so like, just stay here, don’t panic n’ let me do my thing” Trent then turned around and grabbed a football helmet, which he put onto Colt’s head. The helmet had seen better days and had a smelled faintly of sweat, but this was what Trent wanted - to get Colt’s brain surrounded by manly shit so that the whole process could go smoother.

Next, Trent finished the setup for his bro’s realignment. He put a laptop in front of Colt’s face and loaded the first video. It was some random gay porn, copied from the first link Trent stumbled upon cause like, he wasn’t gay or anythin’ so he couldn’t go any further than that. A pair of guys appeared on screen, a hunk fucking some twin into the mattress and Colt seemed really into it, which was, for now, good. Trent’s plan was going to work. His bro was getting agitated by the experience, his cock hardening under his gym shorts and he began grinding his hand against it.

”Nah dude” Trent jumped up to him and grabbed his hand. “Ya can’t do it yet. Gotta wait for the right time dude” He let the video play for a few more moments, making sure that Colt was hard and horny. When he was absolutely sure this was the case he quickly swapped the porn for one of his favorite vids of a bro type guy eating out a chick with awesome tits. As the sound of female moans filled the room, Trent grabbed Colt’s hand again and put it on the visible bulge in his shorts.

“That’s the stuff ya should jack off too, bro. Cause like, no homo. Right bro?” Colt didn’t respond with words, but he grunted and started once again grinding his hand over his hard cock. For a moment at least. Because a minute later he looked at Trent with a furrowed brow.

”bruuuuuuuuh, like… no chick…. that vid… before…. hooooot brah”

Trent groaned. Fuck, he didn’t expect things to go perfectly smooth, but still… damn. But he was going to survive this. It was all gonna still work out in the end. Trent went back to the gay vid for a moment, which woke up Colt’s dick. But as the other bro kept jacking off, Trent leaned over next to him and started whispering with a stern tone of voice.

”dude, ya see this shit? so fuckin’ gay. not like us bro, nah, we’re real bros, and ya know dude, no homo bro. yer a real jacked bro, and no jacked bro looks at gay shit. like man, no homo bro, ya get me, right dude?” As he kept talking, Trend once again switched the video playing on the laptop, going back to the bro destroying a chick’s pussy with his mouth, then moving onto good ol’ fucking. To assure that Colt didn’t relapse, Trent held his bro’s hand to make sure the other jock kept jacking off while also checking that his eyes stayed glued to the screen. All throughout this he kept talking to Colt, improvising a hypno-sounding mantra, repeating the sacred phrase “no homo, bro” over and over again.

”Yeah dude, look at this shit, look at that bruh destroyin’ that wet pussy. cause like ya ain’t no homo, bro, and ya see how fuckin hot this shit is. this ain’t none of that homo shit, nah, this is prime alpha bro stuff, right here dude.”

That seemed to lead to results. Colt’s enthusiasm didn’t disappear after Trent switched back to straight porn, and his dick was just as hard as before. After a while Trent’s help was no longer necessary as Colt sloppily took off his shorts and was now jerking off at full blast. Trent kept on going with his whispers to keep Colt in that trance-like state for as long as possible, all with the goal of getting Colt’s dick to understand the message - that a bro could only get turned on by pussy.

The whole process lasted for an hour. Trent came prepared, with a whole playlist of the hottest vids he knew of so that Colt’s horny bro brain could be overwhelmed with images of straight sex, of a real bro like him doing the only proper thing - sticking his cock into a hot chick’s pussy.

Around halfway through the fifth clip it finally happened. Colt came, covering his Under Armour briefs with his cum, while watching straight porn. Trent fist-pumped in the air and clapped Colt on the back.

”fuck yeah dude, now ya know how good it feels to be a normal bro, not any of that homo shit” He chuckled as he saw his best bro look at him with a confused look. “kay, ya pussyhound, let’s get ya to yer room” Trent grabbed his friend and helped him walk over to his bedroom, where he collapsed onto his bed still wearing the sum-stained boxer briefs.

So the plan seemed to be working. Now Trent just had to make sure that his “session” with Colt had the desired long-term effect. And the first signs were quite promising. Colt hadn’t mentioned hooking up with a guy at all over the following week, which was unusual for him, as he was one horny bastard and was usually very eager to share stories of his sexual conquests or general comments about how much he needed to fuck a random guy. Now, there was none of that and when prompted, Colt just avoided the topic, seemingly surprised it even came up.

The big break came about two weeks later when Trent mentioned going to bed with a girl from a sorority house close to them and Colt commented that he’d do the exact same thing if he had the chance. This was huge. Trent’s best bro finally joining in on the banter about hot chicks. It didn’t stop there. From that point on the frequency of comments from Colt concerning his sex drive returned to normal but they were now all concerned with women. And when Trent heard from another frat bro that Colt hooked up with a chick from the cheerleading team he officially confirmed success. His best bro was now fully aligned with the bro code. Fuck yeah dude!

no homo, bruh!

[mrrharper]

Fitting Into The Gear

The funniest thing? He wasn’t planning to buy anything.

He just wandered into the store selling motorcycle gear to look around. He planned to get a license in the near future and wanted to check how much would he have to save for the gear alone.

So he walked in and looked around, surrounded by the rich smell of brand new leather and plastic. He was quickly joined by a staff member, a beefy bro type, who very enthusiastically started explaining to him all the details he should focus on while searching if he wanted to get the best and sickest looking gear for himself.

All this talk made him want to try on some stuff, see how it looked on him. He ended up with a helmet and a mid range motorcycle suit, which he brought into the changing room located in the back of the store. He took off most of his clothes and began the process of putting on the suit, which took him a moment as he had never worn anything like this before. When that was done, the leather was clinging to his body more tightly than he expected, but thankfully it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling.

Then came the helmet, which was another hurdle. It was supposed to sit tight on his head, or so the bro biker told him earlier, which meant that putting it on also took a while.

When he was finally done he turned around and faced the full-body mirror on the back wall to see how he looked. And he didn’t look half bad. Pretty good even. Yes, the leather suit was a bit too large for his lanky frame, but the helmet added a certain… something to his appearance which he found almost hot. Yeah, really hot.

Hot… wait, was he getting hotter? Yes, his body was now feeling significantly warmer than just a few moments before. But that must have bean because of the suit, which was all leather and thus probably good at capturing the heat radiating off of his body.

But then he moved a bit and he felt it. There was something wrong with his body and he was certain it wasn’t the suit or there helmet. His body felt different. He looked down and furrowed his brow. Did his chest look… larger? Actually, his arms looked bulkier as well. And his midsection too… his legs also! What the fuck? Why was his body expanding? And was it actually? He quickly pulled the zipper of the suit and got out of the upper half, then froze. His t-shirt was no longer there. Instead, he was now wearing a Nike compression shirt that… holy fuck, he was jacked! He had visible, quite meaty pecs! And these biceps and forearms… the fuck? How could this happen? This mush have been a hallucination, this was not real!

He was about to run out of the changing booth when the visor of his helmet started glowing and he just couldn’t look away. So he stood still as his mind began reshaping itself, his personality, thoughts, emotions, habits, all shifting, disappearing and appearing again. His brain was like clay and the helmet was remaking him into someone else.

That someone else was an obnoxious biker bro. He worked in the store, selling motorcycle gear to dudes who wanted to be just like him - jacked, with a sick bike between their legs. In the evenings he worked out or ran away from the cops with his brahs. His life was simple, as his thoughts focused on two things only, riding and lifting. There was nothing else that felt was necessary for him. He was hot as fuck after all, dudes like him weren’t supposed to worry about shit. He’d just flex and drive away on his black-and-white Ninja 700, leaving only a few skid marks on the asphalt behind him.

[mrrharper]

Strings Attached

You thought it would be that easy, eh? That everything would go smoothly? Damn, what a fuckin' dumbass, huhuhuh. Dude, please.

You bought that weird jock serum. The website promised instant change and total life improvement, bro! Thought it would help you lose that "loser status", so ya sunk like 200 of your hard earned bucks into the thing. It came in a boring-ass package, tasted like dirty socks and had you feeling like you were about to throw up for the rest of the day.

But then you woke up the next day and it seemed to have worked. Your basic twink body turned into a that of a cocky bro. Broad shoulders and chest, beefy arms, sculpted legs, a sharper jaw, visible abs (dude, did ya really get hard after seeing these in the mirror?), as well as styled hair and a barely visible stubble. Damn, you looked like a real jock, bro.

You were ecstatic. So excited about all that newly acquired beef, like a kid right after Christmas. You now had to learn how to put up a good show. You got a bunch of workout clothes, tried to learn how to walk like a cocky bro, you even signed up for a gym membership. Which seemed to work.

You got interested looks from people on campus. Others wanted to work with you on projects during class. And most importantly, jocks, bros and other cool dudes started approaching you. They wanted you - the new muscular guy in town - to be a part of their group. It felt like a dream come true.

Oh, how dumb you were. You assumed the physical changes were all the serum would deliver. It would beef you up a bunch, and then the rest of it would be on you, learning how to live a life of a college jock while still being the same guy you were a few days prior, the same socially inept gay loser. But oh boy, does it not work that way.

Guys like you are the funniest to watch. The transformation is so entertaining in the end.

Like a week after drinking the serum the rest of its effects caught up with you. When you woke up, the introverted twink was no longer with us. In his place was an generic arrogant douchebag, whose mind could only focus on a select few topics - his next workout, his next game with his brahs, getting newer gym gear, giving his arms a big ol' flex whenever he could and always looking for a hole to stick his leaking cock into. The mental side was now fully in line with the physical.

Cause we can't have a muscular jock who isn't a cocky and aggressive pussyhound, can we? Of course we can't, that's why the serum works like that. Dumbass. Now go lift some dumbbells or something bro. That's what you're here for, after all.

[mrrharper]

The Bro Zone Resort

Mike entered the resort’s reception area and looked around. It was early in the day so there weren’t that many people around. He walked up to the desk.

“Good morning, sir. How can I help you?” A large and muscular man, wearing a tank top with the resort’s logo proudly displayed on his chest, was standing on the other side of the desk and looking at Mike with a slight grin.

“Uhm, hi.” He slowly responded, not used to such a brawny dude talking to him. “I… I have a reservation under the name Mike Crawford for uhhh… the “Bro Tropical” package, I think.” The man behind the desk smiled and nodded, then typed something into his computer while Mike’s eyes wandered towards his broad chest. Then he finally noticed the name written on the tank top, above the left pectoral. Brock. A name very fitting the man, Mike thought.

“Okay, I have everything he need.” Brock spoke, throwing Mike out of his line of thought.

“Uhm, sorry what?” He put on a sheepish grin and Brock chuckled. 

“I have everything ready for you, Mike.” A brochure and a room card were put on the counter by Brock. “You’ll spend your week at the Bro Zone in Room 37F, and your resident for the length of your stay will be Cross, one of our best.” Mike thanked Brock, took all that was given to him and walked up to the elevator. He quickly got up to the third floor and started walking along the corridor, looking for his room. Fortunately, it wasn’t far from the elevator shaft and he unlocked the door with the card he got at the reception desk.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. The entire room reeked of sweat, cheep cologne and a few other things Mike could not name. As he got his bag into the room and closed the door behind him, he looked around and saw an absolute mess. Used jockstraps, shorts and tank tops were hanging from every piece of furniture. Dumbbells were scattered on the floor and every flat surface was covered by cans of coke and protein shake bottles. Mike closed his eyes and let the horrible smell fill his nostrils. God, he was in heaven, he thought.

Suddenly he heard some sounds coming from the bathroom and the door to it opened, revealing the main attraction of Mike’s stay at The Bro Zone. In front of him stood a 6’3 brute, every part of his body thick with muscles, with a few tattoos, a tank top clearly too small to cover all of this bulk, and sweaty gym shorts. Cross looked at Mike, scratched at his crotch and nodded.

“Sup, brah? You Mike?”

“Uhm, yeah.” He nodded awkwardly. Cross shrugged and walked around Mike, then settled on the couch and grabbed one of the half-empty protein shakers on the table next to him.

“Yer bedroom’s on the right” The gym bro moved his hand around, showing Mike what was where in their apartment. “There’s the bathroom, there’s the kitchen, there’s the entrance to the terrace with the pool.”

“Thanks” Mike smiled and walked towards his bedroom.

“Whatever, bro” He heard a grumbled response behind his back.

Mike went into his room and quickly unpacked. The sweaty stench was still very much there, but at least there was no random shit on the floor. As he sat down on the bed and took a deep breath, he smiled. He already knew he was gonna enjoy his stay at the resort.

Then he took out the brochure he got form Brock after coming in and flipped through the pages until he found the only actually important thing - the command that would allow him to control Cross. There were limitations to this of course, the gym bro wouldn’t do anything that would go against his core traits that Mike chose while booking his stay. But it was still a powerful weapon.

With the command memorized, Mike quickly changed into his swimming shorts, his hard on already visible, and left his room. He went back to the main area of the apartment and looked at Cross, who was watching something on TV, his sweaty armpits exposed for Mike to see.

“Bro code.” Mike said with an assertive tone. Cross turned towards him. He still had that arrogant expression on his face, but he was clearly listening. “Go get changed, we’re going swimming.”

“Sure bruh, whatever ya say dude.” The bro shrugged and stood up, then went outside. Mike had a giant grin on his face, he was so excited. 

When he went outside onto the terrace a minute later he saw Cross on the edge of the pool, wearing only a pair of briefs and sunglasses, his hunky body - and his hefty package - almost completely exposed. Mike slowly licked his lips and took a step forward.

[mrrharper]

Gamer Night

Ari and Mike were laying on Ari’s bed, bored out of their minds. After getting lunch at one of their favorite spots and taking a long walk through the city in the still hot September sun, they were exhausted. After coming back to Ari’s house they fell on the bed and laid there for about an hour. Thankfully no one else was home, which was not a given. Both guys were broke college students who benefited from their family homes being close to their campus. Mike was an only child, but Ari had a nosy younger brother who was set on disturbing his brother’s relationship every chance he got. Fortunately he was away on a school trip and Ari’s parents left for a few days to visit their office in New York, leaving their oldest son home alone.

Mike slowly turned on the bed and looked at his boyfriend, then groaned quietly.

“God, I need to change my position” he slowly forced his body into a sitting position, balancing on the edge of the bed. “It’s not dark outside yet, we need something to pass the time and laying on the bed won’t cut it for me, I’m afraid.” Ari looked at him and stood up next to the bed. He had to admit Mike looked hot int hat moment, his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his flat stomach and barely visible abs. 

“Sure.” Ari grinned at his boyfriend and grabbed his arm, then pulled to get him standing. “Any ideas?”

“It’s your house, you need to come up with something.” Mike responded, then yawned.

“Sure.” This time Ari’s response was less enthusiastic. He left his bedroom and stood in the middle of the corridor, thinking. “We could cook something?” He shouted back towards his bedroom.

“We’ll burn the kitchen before we make a single edible thing and you know that.” A reply quickly came back.

“Oh, don’t you dare insinuate such things about me. I’m perfectly capable of doing stuff in the kitchen.” Ari rolled his eyes. “I dunno…” His eyes wandered to the entrance to his brother’s room, the door slightly ajar. This gave him an idea. “Hey, you wanna play something on Jason’s PS5?”

“Your brother has a PS5?” Mike stuck his head out of the bedroom he was still in, clearly interested. 

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Ari smirked in response and opened the door to his brother’s room, letting Mike inside.

“Holy shit” He heard Mike’s reaction instantly “What a setup!”

“Yeah.” Ari entered the room and saw his boyfriend amazed at Jason’s gaming setup - a few consoles, a gaming PC covered in LEDs, all connected to a giant TV hanging from the wall opposite the bed. “The perks of having your parents work in finance, I guess.”

Mike, with his mouth still basically on the floor, moved to the side and looked at Jason’s giant games collection. “That’s… a shit tome of games, it’s insane.”

“That’s the reason he basically never leaves this room” Ari walked up behind Mike and put his chin on his partner’s shoulder. “You see anything interesting? Cause I have no idea what I’m looking at.”

“It seems your brother is a big fan of COD.”

“Of what?” Ari groaned “I need to put up a sign at the entrance - no gaming slang in this house.”

“Call of Duty. Your brother is a big fan of Call Of Duty.” Mike laughed “At least, I assume he is, cause he has a whole shelf filled only with every edition of COD there is.” He pointed and the shelf close to the floor and Ari had to agree with Mike. It was all Call Of Duty. While he was distracted, looking at hall the game boxes, Mike bent down and Ari, still leaning on his boyfriend’s shoulder, lost balance and almost fell down.

“Hey, watch out, gamer boy!” He said after he sat on the floor to be on the same level as Mike, who only laughed and patted Ari on the head.

“You’re gonna be fine” he said and picked up one of the games form the collection. “Huh.”

“What is it?”

“This” Mike put the box in front of Ari’s eyes “I don’t recognize this one.”

“Call Of Duty: Cyber Warfare II” Ari read the title on the box aloud. “Eh, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Yeah, isn’t that exciting? Your brother has somehow got access to a brand new, possibly unreleased game. And we can play it right now!” Mike was clearly excited and he quickly got up to the console and put the in the game disc.

“Wow, this thing still uses discs?” Ari commented as he sat down on Jason’s bed, which also functioned as a couch.

“I guess so.” Mike joined Ari on the bed, two controllers in his hands. He handed one to his boyfriend and waited for the game to load.

“Didn’t expect to spend the evening learning all about your secret gamer lifestyle” Ari laughed.

“I mean… it’s not like I’m a fanatic or anything, but games allow me to relax form time to time.”

“Sure thing Mr. Gamer, now tell me what to do.” Ari waved his controlled in the direction of the TV, where the starting menu was displayed.

“Yeah, I think we should start with the tutorial first. Get you used to the controls and stuff.” Mike chose the appropriate option and they waited for the training stage to load.

They spend the next few hours in front of the TV, Mike trying to teach Ari the basics of playing a shooter with a controller. It didn’t go terribly and after a while both were ready to move on front eh tutorial, so they played a couple stages front he campaign and even tried to get into an online match, but the servers were not working, which made sense - the game was most likely a special pre-release copy and the infrastructure was not yet ready.

Both guys ended up falling asleep, first Ari after he put his head on Mike’s lap “for just a moment”, with his boyfriend following not long after. They slept while the game was still on, the glare from the TV not disturbing them in any way.

Ari opened his eyes. Then he closed them again. Something was not right. He blinked a couple of times. Where was he? Certainly not in his brother’s bedroom where he was sure he fell asleep. He was… what was this place? He didn’t recognize it, and it seemed like his eyes were playing with him because every object seemed to have this weird sort of texture. He looked around. It was some kind of deserted area, a forest in the distance and a bunch of old buildings and car wrecks in front of him. What the fuck was— Oh god! Wasn’t this the tutorial stage format he game he played with Mike? Ari turned around to make sure. Yeah, this was the exact same place!

What was happening? Why did it seem like he was transported into the game world? And what did he have to do to wake up form this bizarre dream? Ari looked down and sure enough, he was wearing full combat gear that he recognized form when he was playing the game with Mike. 

He started walking around the area, wanting to make absolutely sure this was indeed the tutorial stage. And all signs pointed to one answer - yes. Walking itself felt weird, not only because his body didn’t feel quite “right”, but also because this avatar was higher that Ari was. And bulkier, the avatar was certainly bulkier. Ari stopped for a moment and looked at his new body again. He put his arm in a flexing position and his eyes widened as he saw the bulky muscle moving under the uniform.

Ari was suddenly transported to a different side of the building. He wanted to move and continue his exploration, but he couldn’t. His body was stuck in some weird idling loop, moving the weight of his body form one leg to another, and checking on the rifle he was holding once in a while. It was hell, not being able to control his own body, instead he was stuck looking into the distance.

After god knows how long, something happened. Another avatar appeared in front of him. It was another soldier, but with visibly less gear than Ari. The other character looked around. Ari tried to say something to get his attention, but he wasn’t able to. He then realized there was a tag above the other avatar’s head. “Player”. Oh shit. Ari tried to look up, to see if he also had a tag above his head, but again - he could not move, stuck in that stupid animation loop.

The player slowly walked closer to him and suddenly Ari’s body moved to a different position and he felt his mouth moving.

“Come on, rookie. You gotta move. We have to take that target!” This was not his voice. It was low and rugged, nothing like Ari’s highish pitch. The player’s avatar nodded and started moving towards the building. After a moment Ari’s body started moving as well, turning around and walking behind the player. When they both entered the building Ari’s hands put his rifle close to his face and pointed it forward, constantly scanning the space around him. It didn’t take long for Ari to realize that he was the NPC that was leading players through the first tutorial stage. 

Mike slowly opened his eyes with a loud yawn. He then stretched his arms, which felt weirdly sore. He thought for a moment why would that be. Oh right, he did an evening workout yesterday. Huhuhuhuh, he was suck a dumbass sometimes. He raised his arm and flexed his beefy biceps, because why the hell not, he was a fuckin' hot brah. He then sniffed his pits. Damn, he reeked. He must have forgotten to get a shower. That scenario made more sense when Mike realized that the TV was turned on, with the main menu of one of the Call of Duty games was on screen. Mike chuckled and looked around for the controller. He must have decided to try out the new game only to fall asleep before he even got to the first stage. 

With the controller now back in his hand Mike decided to shower later and choose the “New Game” option in the menu. A character creator appeared in front of him, but Mike didn’t care about that stuff, he only wanted to shoot some bad guys, so he didn’t change anything in the avatar that appeared on the screen, eager to just play.

Finally, he was transported to the first real stage of the game. He groaned when he saw the words “Tutorial Stage” appear on the screen, but then shrugged and started playing. An NPC was running alongside him, sometimes giving him basic advice about how to use his weapon, how to sneak, how to change rifles. It was all stuff Mike knew form years of playing shooters like this one, so he ignored the one-liners form the gruff soldier and he quickly captured the target and moved on to the next map, quickly forgetting about the boring-ass tutorial mission.

Ari reached the end of the tutorial stage and turned towards the player. This took way less time than Ari remember it took him and Mike to get through this stage.

“Good job, recruit. You’re ready for the next mission.” Ari, or rather the NPC that Ari now inhabited, growled at the player. The other avatar then froze and disappeared quickly after, probably having been teleported to the next stage. Ari meanwhile was now alone in the ruins, but he regained control over his body. He used this opportunity to explore his new form. He was wearing full camo, a tactical vest with a ton of gear attached to it, a radio antenna sticking out next to his arm. He was holding a rifle and had access to a handgun, that stayed in a holster attached to his leg. But Ari focused most on the bulk that he was now carrying. Having been a proud twink before all… this, it was a change to now inhabit the body of a ripped soldier. He very quickly got used to it though and found himself flexing his various newly acquired muscles, loving the way his uniform bulged as me moved his arms and legs.

Suddenly, Ari froze and was then transported back to the beginning of the map but he saw no player avatar next to him. He was once again stuck in an animation loop, this time a mix of checking on his gun, looking around and flexing his arm. Though as time passed and there were no players in sight, Ari began to worry that maybe something went wrong. Maybe the game glitched and he would be stuck in this spot forever.

Then he hears a weird, robotic voice. Debugging algorithm activated. He didn't know wiat direction it was coming from… or maybe it was inside his head? He couldn’t say for sure.

His body suddenly froze in the middle of an idling animation, his arms stuck holding his rifle in front of him. Ari tried to move, but he was unable to. He couldn’t speak, move even one finger or blink. What the fuck was going on?

Then he felt a sharp pain on the back of his head as if someone injected a needle inside his skull. It felt terrible, but he had no way of stopping it. He was now at the mercy of the game.

As he waited for something to happen he realized that his mind became awfully quiet. No random thoughts about his jacked arms, no desperate planning on how to escape this nightmare, nothing. He was just standing, waiting for something to happen. This alarmed him, but before his anxiety could escalate, the voice spoke again. Operator TR#001067 requires additional reconditioning. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was the voice talking to him? Ari had no idea what was happening and… wait.

Wait wait wait.

He suddenly realized he couldn’t remember his name. How the fuck could this be? He was… his name was… he…

Operator TR#001067. That was his name. But was it? It didn’t sound like—

Operator TR#001067. Yeah, that was certainly his name. His ID number was right there.

His mind was then flooded with clear memories of countless different scenarios for the tutorial stage, every possible player choice now ingrained in his head. At the same time, his memories of everything that happened before, of his family, his house, Mike, it disappeared behind a thick fog. He still felt like he was not where he was supposed to be but—

Of course he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He was... he was... it was.. Yes, it was—

Another player spawned next to Operator TF#001067, activating its dialog. The NPC turned around and faced the newcomer.

“Come on, rookie. You gotta move. We have to take that target!”

[mrrharper]

random engagement bait

if i were to write a sequel to one of my stories, which story should it be?

also sup brahs

am not dead, dude

#FlyEaglesFly

[mrrharper]

Someone make the movie

[mrrharper]

Titan Touch 2: Strange happenings

The air in Crestview High thickens, an almost imperceptible hum of change moving through the halls like a chill before a storm. Most students brush it off, attributing it to the rush of midterms or the looming excitement of Halloween. But Ethan, with his keen eye for details, starts to notice things no one else seems to see.

He usually sticks to a strict routine, but today, his schedule is off, and he’s headed to the library to spend a few quiet hours with his D&D lore books. As he walks, he glances down the side corridors, catching glimpses of the usual “loners” gathered in small clusters, typically bent over sketch pads or muttering inside jokes. But something’s different.

He pauses, frowning, as he spots a group of these loners clustered together, their heads ducked in uncomfortable silence. The Titans—Crestview’s jock elite, every one of them with perfect smiles and effortless confidence—are encircling them, their manner friendly, almost magnetic. Ethan watches as a Titan he vaguely recognizes, a tall guy with dark curls named Luke, claps one of the loners on the back, an easy smile spread across his face.

"Don’t you guys want to catch the game later?” Luke’s voice is low and oddly persuasive. Ethan can’t quite hear the loner’s response, but the boy nods stiffly, following the Titan like he’s suddenly mesmerized. The rest of the group murmurs, some exchanging nervous glances, but they don’t pull away. One by one, they’re being led off somewhere, the warm camaraderie of the Titans proving irresistible.

A strange chill works its way up Ethan’s spine. He shrugs it off and continues toward the library, but when he finally reaches the quiet sanctuary of shelves and study tables, he realizes even the library isn’t untouched by the Titans’ influence. The usual academic hum is interrupted by odd bursts of giggling and low murmurs, and the atmosphere feels tainted, charged with something strange and unsettling. Ethan settles himself at a table in the library, clutching his textbook as he tries to focus on his notes. 

The strange vibe lingered. A few tables over, he noticed a jock he vaguely recognized from the hallways, maybe a senior, with that classic all-American look: dark hair, a wide smile, and a confident, casual posture. Ethan racked his brain for a name but came up blank. The jock stood in front of a girl with glasses and a shy smile.

The jock leaned in close, speaking to her in a low voice, his hand resting gently on her shoulder as he guided her toward the far end of the library. It was hard to pinpoint what was happening, but Ethan could guess. As she emerged from the shelves, her wide-eyed stare had morphed into something vacant, her smile dreamy and docile. Her hair looked smoother, somehow, and she clung to the jock’s arm, giggling softly as he led her out, her usual sharpness replaced with a kind of empty adoration.

“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself, pushing the scene out of his mind. He’d just walked in on some weird couple thing; high school relationships were strange at the best of times.

At the far end of the library, a familiar face was bent over a table, flipping through a football magazine with a concentration that Ethan wouldn’t have expected. It was Tom—or, at least, it looked like him. But Tom, the quiet, brooding kid who usually stuck to himself, was currently wearing a  jersey with the name: “Tanner.” stitched on. His features looked subtly different—sharper, his jaw more defined, his eyes bigger, almost puppy-like, with an inviting glint that Ethan found himself staring into for a beat too long. And that smile—a smile so bright, so warm, it sent a flicker of warmth through Ethan’s chest, scattering his thoughts as if he’d forgotten where he was for a second.

He quickly looked away, embarrassed, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks, and hurried out of the library, shaken and frustrated by how easily he’d been distracted. But as he made his way to lunch, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling, the way the Titans’ charm had pulled him in, like an unspoken invitation that he couldn’t refuse.

He tried to brush it off, though, as he joined his friends at their usual table. Martin was already talking animatedly about some new coding project, and Alfie chimed in about the latest game release, but Ethan’s thoughts kept drifting back to the scenes he’d seen in the library. He hesitated before speaking, then finally broke in.

“Have you guys... noticed anything weird around here?” he asked, keeping his voice low, trying to sound casual.

Martin looked up, eyebrows raised. “Weird? Like what?”

“Like... I don’t know. Just... people acting strange. I saw some loners hanging out with the Titans today, but they looked like they didn’t want to be there. And, well, there was this girl in the library, Lily? She was talking to one of the jocks, and when they came out, she just... seemed different.”

Alfie shrugged, brushing it off. “Eh, maybe they just have nothing better to do. It’s probably nothing. I mean, Halloween’s coming up. People get weird around this time.”

But before Ethan could respond, a group of jocks strolled into the cafeteria, laughing and tossing casual nods to the tables around them. There was something off about the way they moved together, like a single, smooth unit. And as they drew closer, Ethan’s stomach twisted. He could’ve sworn he recognized one or two of the faces—a couple of those loners from earlier. But they were smiling now, walking in sync with the Titans, their faces bearing the same unnervingly bright expressions.

“Who are they?” Ethan muttered, feeling a strange tension in his chest.

Martin shrugged, glancing up nonchalantly. “Probably just more of the football team, right?”

As soon as he said it, the answer settled into Ethan’s mind, as if a layer of fog had lifted. It felt obvious, and yet something still gnawed at him, the details slipping away as quickly as they’d come. 

Ethan gripped the strap of his backpack tighter, determined to shake the odd feelings that had been creeping over him all day. He refused to believe that anything strange was happening at Crestview. People change. It's just hormones, he told himself. Stress. Football fever, probably. It wasn’t uncommon for his classmates to get caught up in the excitement around the Titans, especially this time of year. He needed to chill out.

He decided to find his friend, Nolan. Maybe they could make plans for a game night; some D&D would definitely help him unwind. But after searching their usual spots—the back hallway near the AV room, the corner by the library—he couldn’t find him anywhere. Finally, he wandered over to the bleachers by the field and to his surprise he found Nolan sitting attentively on the bleachers, watching the Titan’s practice.

“Nolan?” Ethan called softly, stepping up beside him. But Nolan didn’t move, didn’t even blink. His eyes were fixed on the players, and his face was blank, his lips parted slightly as though caught between awe and emptiness. Ethan followed his line of sight and spotted Lily, the honors girl he’d seen in the library, now on the sidelines cheering with robotic, practiced enthusiasm. Her eyes held that same eerie vacancy, and it sent a chill up Ethan’s spine.

“Dude… what are you doing out here?” Ethan asked, forcing a smile, hoping his friend would snap out of it and laugh it off.

Nolan barely stirred, his lips moving just enough to murmur, “They’re… so cool, aren’t they?” His voice was distant, dreamy.

Ethan frowned, nudging him slightly. “What? You never cared about the Titans before.” 

The Titans were on the field doing some casual practice and playing about on the field, all typical jock stuff. But his friend’s gaze never wavered from the field. Ethan’s heart sank as he watched the players wrapping up their practice, jogging off the field with that same glowing, effortless confidence. 

To Ethan’s horror, Nolan rose from the bleachers, his movements robotic, his face vacant and hypnotized. He took slow, halting steps down toward the field, his expression flickering with something like resistance—his hands clenched, his body tensed, as though he were trying to stop himself from moving forward but couldn’t.

“Nolan!” Ethan hissed, hurrying after him, his voice dropping to a frantic whisper. “What are you doing? Let’s go; we’re supposed to finish that campaign tonight, remember?”

Ethan, heart pounding, trailed behind him, a chill spreading down his spine. “Nolan, where are you going?” he whispered urgently. But Nolan didn’t answer; his gaze was fixed ahead, his eyes almost dazed. As they neared the huddle of players, Ethan watched, his breath catching, as one of the jocks noticed Nolan and grinned.

This guy was different from the rest, a tall, dark-haired Titan with a sharp, friendly smile and a confident swagger that seemed to radiate warmth and easy charm. Ethan remembered seeing him around the halls, always giving people an encouraging nod or a friendly high-five.

“Hey, buddy,” the jock said with a broad grin, stepping up to Nolan. “Good to see you. You’re looking a little out of it—maybe I can help you out, huh?” He pulled Nolan into a bro-like hug, patting him solidly on the back, his hands resting a bit too long on Nolan’s shoulders. Nolan seemed to snap out of his trance for a moment, his eyes finding Ethan’s.

“Help…” Nolan whispered, his voice barely audible, almost pleading. Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but the jock’s arm stayed firmly around Nolan, guiding him toward the coach’s office with casual ease, like they were old friends.

“Hey, wait!” Ethan called, quickening his steps and following into the dimly lit sports corridor. He ducked out of sight as they reached the office, hiding behind a row of lockers, his heart hammering. He dared a glance through the narrow blinds of the office door.

Inside, the jock kept an arm draped around Nolan’s shoulders, giving him a friendly squeeze. “C’mon, man. You’ll feel way better soon. You know you’re meant to be one of us, don’t you?”

Nolan shook his head, his voice shaky but defiant. “No… I don’t… please… I don’t want… to change…” His face twisted, struggling against something unseen, his whole body tense.

The jock laughed, his tone light and encouraging. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Change is good, bro. You’re just fighting it ‘cause it’s new. Trust me, you’ll feel amazing when you let go.”

With one more reassuring pat, the jock placed his hand on the back of Nolan’s neck, and Ethan could see the tension draining from Nolan’s posture. His resistance seemed to weaken, his voice dropping to a whisper. “No… no…” he murmured, each word quieter, fading like a candle guttering out.

“No… no…” Nolan’s voice cracked, trailing off, his head drooping, his eyes blank.

“Yo… yo,” he murmured back, his tone shifting, his words losing their desperate edge, gaining a smooth, excited energy.

“Yo!” Nolan's voice grew louder, filled with a newfound enthusiasm, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Yo!”

Ethan stifled a gasp, his eyes widening in horror as he watched his friend, through the blinds, stand up straighter. As he turned around his once-hesitant gaze now sharp and confident. Nolan’s freckled face looked leaner, his eyes brighter, and his stance exuded a swagger that wasn’t there before. His clothes had changed too, seamlessly morphing into the bright colors of the Titans’ uniform, with a new name embroidered across the back: “Nick.”

Nick blinked, as if seeing the world anew, then let out a cheerful laugh, his eyes brimming with pride. “Man, this feels awesome!” he exclaimed, his voice carrying that same confident edge as the rest of the Titans.

The jock who’d greeted him laughed too, slapping him on the back. “Knew you had it in you, bro. Let’s get out there and show ‘em what we’re made of.”

With that, Nick turned and strode back into the hallway, his grin plastered across his face, his eyes sparkling with an eerie, new intensity. Ethan shrank back as Nick passed by, his gaze focused ahead, his posture almost too straight, too self-assured.

‘Fuck, what is going on?’ Ethan thought as panic set in. The revelation that the Titan’s were slowly assimilating everyone at school had millions of thoughts sparking off at once. How did they do it? When did they start? Why were they doing this? He thought for a second to process it. It must have all started recently, Ethan thought, fragments of memories of the jocks being douche-bags for years slowly surfaced, but the more he tried to remember it, the more he pictured Tanner, Logan and the others with cute friendly faces. The more he pictured them, the less anxiety and anger he felt towards them, as if they were calming him from within his own mind. He shook his head, he needed to get to his friends and warn them of what was going on, whether they believed him or not.

Ethan waited briefly for the coast to be clear, he then hurriedly tried to sneak out. Making his way down the thin corridor, spreading up as he saw the main hall and an escape. But as he neared it, three Titans, Logan, Tanner and Topher marched in from around the corner. It took them a couple of seconds to notice Ethan, who’s stomach clenched up, but when they did, his mind went to panic stations. Their mouths curled into grins as they marched closer to him.

“Sorry guys, I just want to go out, could you let me pass?” he whimpered, his eyes, locking on to theirs. As he stared into their dull puppy eyes, their cuteness pierced his body, trying to calm him down, but he knew what would happen if he did., He needed to panic, to escape, but the jocks kept backing him up.

“Sure bro, you can go whenever you want,” Logan said smirking,

“But why would you want to bro, come and hang with us, we promise not to bite” Tanner chimed in. 

“I need to be somewhere guys, I can’t… I can’t… hang… right now” Ethan neared the locker room door now. He wanted to escape, but their faces filled him with warmth. He wanted to be with them. Ethan’s dick grew erect the more he stared at them, . Their cute looks, their muscled bodies, it was irresistible . They were hot and this was the closest he ever got to them. 

“Don’t worry bro, you won’t be needing to go anywhere after this. Once you hang with us, we’ll be all you need,” Topher smiled. Ethan now backed into the door and the jocks pushed him into the locker room. Suddenly he was surrounded by the Titans, their faces gleaming smiles and grins, their faces cute with puppy eyes.

‘No, no, no, I need to get out, I need to run, I don’t want to become one of them’ he thought, his mind racing. But before he could do anything, Topher gave his back a pat, warmth radiating throughout his body.

“Don’t worry, bro, we know how tough it must be for you, all that studying for math, doing equations all through the night, the tests… which you're already late for.”

“What…?” Ethan asked before he remembered as he looked at the clock. His afternoon mock exam had begun, he had barely studied the night before and he wouldn’t be able to do it now. Ethan swayed, losing track of himself as Logan’s hand settled on his shoulder, grounding him with a warmth that spread from his shoulder and down his torso, reshaping him. Ethan was closer to Logan then he had ever dreamed of being, his stomach full of butterflies, his boner now at full mast, his frightened face calming. 

Nick stepped forward from the crowd of Titans, his uniform catching the harsh glare of the locker room lights. He looked immaculate—his black hair perfectly styled, his broad shoulders and towering frame exuding confidence. But it wasn’t just his appearance that had changed, his demeanor was alien to Ethan. The quiet, reserved friend he’d once known was gone. Nick’s cocky smirk radiated an easy dominance, and his voice was smooth, almost predatory.

“C’mon, Ethan. Stop fighting it,” Nick said, his tone light but commanding. He moved closer, each step deliberate. “Trust me—you’ll feel so much better when you let go. I was just like you, man. Always stressing about stupid crap, always stuck in my head. But look at me now. No worries. No stress. Just the team, the game, and good times.”

Ethan tried to step back, but his legs felt like they were rooted to the floor. His mind raced, scrambling for some kind of foothold against the tide of warmth radiating through him.  The feeling was intoxicating, and it was soothing, seductive, sapping his strength. “No… Nick… this isn’t you. This isn’t us. You… you loved coding,” Ethan stammered, his voice trembling as he clung to the memory. “You were… brilliant…”

Nick chuckled, his grin widening. “Coding? Dude, who cares about that now? What’s so great about staying up late, stressing over some lame project that nobody else gives a damn about? Or rolling dice and memorizing spells? You think any of that’s gonna matter when you’re part of the team? Nah, man, all you need is the game, the bros, and the girls.”

Ethan shook his head weakly, trying to fight the growing pull in his chest. The warmth was spreading faster now, his posture straightening involuntarily, his shoulders pulling back as if they were no longer under his control. His stomach tightened, the softness of his midsection fading. He could feel his body changing, even as his mind screamed against it.

“I don’t care about girls,” Ethan managed, his voice cracking. “I don’t care about football. I just want—”

Nick leaned closer, his tone softer now, almost teasing. “Don’t care about girls? You sure about that, bro? I think you’re just scared. But trust me, once you’re one of us, everything will make sense. You’ll finally fit in. You’ll finally be someone.”

Logan stepped forward, his hand resting heavily on Ethan’s shoulder. The warmth intensified, sinking deeper into Ethan’s chest. Logan’s grin was bright, almost blinding. “He’s right, bro. You’re already halfway there. Stop fighting it—it’s way easier. And it feels so much better.”

Ethan’s legs trembled, but Logan’s grip steadied him. The warmth spread downward, firming his hips and thighs, replacing years of awkward stiffness with raw, natural power. His jeans stretched and warped, transforming into tight football pants. His shoes morphed into cleats, the rubber soles gripping the floor with purpose. His feet grew, broad and solid, the perfect foundation for the towering frame he was becoming.

“No, stop… please…” Ethan whimpered, though his voice was losing its urgency, slowing to match the haze settling over his thoughts. The panic in his mind clashed with an emerging calm, a strange contentment that didn’t feel like his own.

“You’re almost there, bro,” Nick said, clapping him on the back. “You’re gonna love it. No more studying. No more worrying about tests or nerdy stuff. Just the team, the game, and living it up. You’ll see.”

Ethan’s chest swelled, his shirt tightening before shifting entirely into the signature Titans’ uniform. The fabric hugged his body, highlighting his broadening shoulders and the growing muscle beneath. His arms thickened, veins standing out against his tanned skin. His hands grew larger, stronger, built for gripping and throwing instead of typing and gaming.

Tears welled in Ethan’s eyes as he felt his mind slipping further, his old thoughts and passions drained away, replaced by something simpler, more primal. “No, I don’t want this,” he murmured, though even as he said it, his voice deepened, resonating with new strength. “I don’t… I don’t…”

Nick smirked, his voice smooth and encouraging. “You do, bro. You just don’t know it yet. All that stuff you’re clinging to? It’s holding you back. Let it go. Be one of us.”

Ethan’s mind screamed in protest, clinging to the memories of late-night gaming sessions, hours spent pouring over books, the thrill of creativity and strategy. But those memories grew dimmer, fuzzier, as if they belonged to someone else. In their place came new thoughts: the roar of the crowd, the thrill of scoring a touchdown.

The warmth in his chest spread to his groin, and his sexuality began to twist and shift. The longing he’d once felt for boys like Logan blurred, fading into a vague admiration that morphed into platonic camaraderie. Instead, his mind filled with new desires: cheerleaders in tight uniforms, girls with bright eyes and bubbly laughs. 

‘Yeah, girls are hot. That’s just how it is’, he thought, the idea sliding into place like it had always been there. He felt his intelligence dimming like a lightbulb on a dimmer switch, his once-quick thoughts slowing, replaced by simpler ones. 

‘Football good. Girls hot. Team everything.’ 

His jawline sharpened, his cheeks losing their boyish softness. His lips curled into an easy grin, radiating charm and confidence. His ginger hair darkened, shifting to a rich, sandy blond, styled effortlessly into a tousled, all-American look. He caught his reflection in the mirror—a Titan, through and through. 

“Damn, Evan, look at you!” Tanner called, his laughter echoing in the locker room. “You’re gonna crush it out there, man.”

Ethan—Evan now—blinked, the name clicking in his mind as if it had always been his. The faint whispers of his old self faded into the background, drowned out by the team’s cheers. He turned to Nick, his grin wide and natural. “Yo, Nick, you were right. This feels amazing.”

Nick slung an arm around Evan’s broad shoulders. “Yo, man, you were looking for me earlier, right? Something about a game?”

Evan nodded, his grin unwavering. “Yeah, bro. You think we’ll crush next week’s match? Coach says we’ve got the best lineup yet.”

Nick laughed. “Hell yeah, bro. With you on the team? We’re unstoppable.”

Evan puffed out his chest, pride swelling in his heart. “Hell yeah. Titans for life, baby.”

The locker room erupted in cheers as the team rallied around their newest member. Evan stood tall among them, every inch the perfect Titan. Whatever Ethan had been was gone, absorbed into the collective confidence and camaraderie of the team. Evan didn’t miss him.

[mrrharper]

I’m open for commissions!

I am open for commissions! You can come to me with an idea for a story and I will write it, putting your wild TF/hypno fantasies into words!

My base rate is 25 EUR for every 1000 words. Before sending me a DM, please read the detailed rules and conditions that are available in this post.

To get started, just send me a DM here on Tumblr. You can check if I have open slots on my ko-fi page.

Fly Eagles, Fly!

[mrrharper]

If you're celebrating today's result, fuck off my page. You're pathetic. I don't want you here, I don't want your money, I don't want your eyes on anything I create, including if you 'only' jerk off to the fantasy of this very outcome we're currently living in.

[mrrharper]

babes, let's make something clear

i'm a radical social democrat, im a gay man whose view on gender is close to that of judith butler, im pro ukraine and pro palestine

do whatever you want with that information

What do you think of the recent ruling. How do you like seeing your fantasies come to life? Words hold power.

wait, what ruling lol? you mean the us election? why the fuck dude did you write ruling, it just threw me off so hard

bruh

i live in central europe, the first thing i thought after seeing the results was that out chances of having a border with russia greatly increased

and to be clear - just like women who read dub con don’t want to be raped irl, i hate to see the orange facist man actually winning

if you support maga for real, please leave

[mrrharper]

What do you think of the recent ruling. How do you like seeing your fantasies come to life? Words hold power.

wait, what ruling lol? you mean the us election? why the fuck dude did you write ruling, it just threw me off so hard

bruh

i live in central europe, the first thing i thought after seeing the results was that out chances of having a border with russia greatly increased

and to be clear - just like women who read dub con don’t want to be raped irl, i hate to see the orange facist man actually winning

if you support maga for real, please leave

[mrrharper]

The Jocks Of Dark Forest College

They say stereotypes aren't real and one shouldn't judge anyone based on these preconceived notions. Well, they forgot to tell Dark Forest College. This place was like out of a 4/10 comedy. There were nerds with their glasses and button up shirts who spent their whole time either studying or worrying about exams. There were rich assholes to whom getting good grades came easily, leaving a lot of time to keep up their unearned social status. Obviously, a group of politically conscious activists could also be found, people who used the campus as one big soapbox and fought for whatever their cause was. 

And then there were the jocks. Unquestioned leaders, alphas even, of the whole student body. Members of the football, soccer, hockey, wrestling and baseball teams, into which the school pumped enormous amounts of public and private funds. It was easiest to find them studying sports management or health and nutrition. Obviously they were not present during most lectures, and their GPAs were just barely above the NCAA minimum for sports scholarships. They were strong and arrogant meatheads, gym bros dumb as rocks who spent their days either working out, running through drills or broing out with their bros. They were the powerhouse of Dark Forest's Greek Row, controlling most fraternities and fucking most sororities. 

With one major exception.

Darren Frost was meant to be a dumb jock. He was a junior playing on the Dark Forest Blackbirds football team, one of their most dangerous weapons on defense. A cornerback expected to be a top 5 pick in the draft class he would one day be a part of. His numerous interceptions, flashy tackles and defensive touchdowns made him a household name, a campus celebrity. And yet he was not a cocky meathead. He majored in economics with a minor in sociology. His grades never fell below a very respectable level. He was the recipient of both athletic and academic scholarships. And he never boasted about his sexual conquest. At one point there was even a rumor going around that he had a thing for a guy in high school. He was the exception to every rule of Dark Forest social life. And nature does not like exceptions. At least not the nature of Dark Forest College.

Every year in April the Blackbirds threw a giant campus-wide celebration for the athletes that were leaving their teams because they were graduating or they were drafted by the NFL or other major sports leagues. The so-called Draft Class Graduation was the biggest social event during the summer semester outside of maybe the actual graduation ceremony. The Dean was always orchestrating the whole thing himself, publicly thanking all soon-to-be former student athletes for deciding to play with the Dark Forest logo on their jerseys. Then, the crowds of rowdy jocks filled all bars and clubs around campus and partied the whole night, drinking booze and fucking chicks along the way.

Darren was always very uncommitted when it came to being a part of the partying culture at DFC. He went to the Draft Class Graduation during his first year on the team, which he did not particularly enjoy. That’s why the next year he just skipped the whole thing against the clear expectations of his teammates. He went out with his bros every now and then, but not as frequently as some of the other guys. He also infamously never drank as much as most athletes. Now he was on the finish line of his junior year and he planned on doing things exactly the same as the year prior - attend the formal part of the ceremony, talk a bit to the guys he knew and go home while the rest of the team went out to get black out drunk in some sleazy bar.

His teammates had other plans, however. After all speeches were done people started slowly leaving the campus grounds for the dozen or so bars that offered student discounts for the day. What Darren wanted to do at that point was to quietly and quickly leave the crowd of hyped up students and get to his dorm on the opposite side of DFC's campus. Instead, right after the Dean said his final words he was surrounded by almost the entire defensive line.

"yer comin' with us bruh" Drake, a defensive end, took a step forward "ya know yer comin' dude."

"Guys" Darren smiled as he looked at the group of football players standing in front of him. "Ya know these kinds of parties or whatever aren't my thing. Also, remember we have practice tomorrow at 2. Don't wanna be hungover doing drills" He chuckled a bit. The guys grinned but didn't move.

"bruh, who cares about practice, that's tomorrow brah" Another player, Travis, came out of the crowd. "today we party dude!"

"heard a bunch of chicks from Epsilon Omega are goin' to The Blaze man! think 'bout all that wet pussy bro!" Chris, a defensive lineman, chimed in. The Blaze was famously the favorite club of the entire football team. 

Darren listened to his teammates trying to convince him to join them. He marveled at how single-minded they all seemed. When they thought about going out, it was literally all they could think about. And when they were on the field, their minds were completely set on the game or drill they were doing. This was what seemed to set him apart from the rest of his team--

"so dude? yer comin', right bro?" Drake looked Darren right in the eyes, an arrogant smirk on his face. "am not takin' no for an answer dude, ya gotta live the jock life bruh"

Darren sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't really have any plan for what to do that evening, there was nothing important happening the next day, except that 2PM practice. He could, potentially, go and order just one drink, then excuse himself early. 

"Okay, okay, I'll go. Damn, y'all are a giant pain in the ass" He finally caved, and was met with all the guys patting him on the back, as well as a few whistles and cheers. They all chuckled and made their way towards the club.

When they arrived at the establishment, the entire space was very much packed. When they entered through the door though, the crowd immediately made space for the jocks. They were royalty in this club and they were very much treated as such. The Blackbirds' defensive line confidently walked up to a big table towards the back and moments later it was free for them to sit at. Darren was not fully comfortable with being treated that way, he'd have no problem just standing, leaning by the wall and sipping on his drink, but the rest of the guys made sure he came exactly where they went.

After making sure everyone in their immediate surroundings knew that the football team claimed these tables as theirs, the jocks began leaving to order, talk or flirt. Darren was one of the first to stand up and walk up to the bar, not wanting Drake or Chris to moan that he was not “livin the jock life". He ordered a drink with barely any alcohol in it, conscious of the practice he would have to go through tomorrow. As he did he saw a few of the guys already trying to pick up girls who started moving towards the athletes' sable the moment they came into the club. Almost every player on the team seemed to sleep with a different chick every week, and while Darren did not have much of a problem with that, it just wasn't how he did things. While his bisexuality was more or less evenly split he was on a guy-only streak recently. He experienced a few hookups with girls from DFU though, and they didn’t really satisfy him. He was looking for something more that casual sex and--

"dude, yer drinkin this fag shit?" Travis looked at Darren as he sat down at their table. "broooooooo, ya gotta taste some real shit bro" And with one swift move he took Darren's drink away from him and replaced it with a bottle of beer, the same one Travis had in his hand. "once ya taste this stuff, yer never gonna buy that fairy shit again, bruh". 

Darren looked at the bottle that was now standing in front of him. He didn't recognize the brand or the type, but he was not an avid drinker so he just assumed it was some less popular beer other guys from the team really liked. He took a sip. It did not taste good, it was way too sour and much more carbonated for him to even remotely enjoy the taste. But again, not wanting Trevor to harass him about this, he slowly worked his way through the content of the bottle, one small sip at a time.

The beer took surprisingly little time getting to his head. Not 5 minutes after getting through the entire bottle Darren felt slightly dizzy. Surprised by this, he inspected the bottle but found nothing that would suggest the alcohol was particularly strong. He put the bottle on the table and looked around, watching his teammates dance in the middle of the bar, talking up random girls or being surrounded by them. They were celebrities here and it showed.

“hey, gorgeous” Darren was suddenly startled by a feminine voice coming from his right. He turned his head and saw a young woman, wearing a crop top and shorts - both very revealing, standing next to him and looking at his arms. He looked at her face and saw hunger in her eyes - she had a very clear goal in mind.

“Uhhh, hey” He responded, half-whispering, before putting on his standard, confident voice. “You need anything?” The woman giggled in reply. She then sat down beside him and put her hand on his biceps.

“Oh, there certainly is something” She gently squeezed his arm. “And I think you already know what it is.” Her hand started traveling up his arm, reaching his shoulder that she started slowly massaging, while also putting her other hand on his thigh.

Darren indeed knew what the woman wanted, but he himself didn’t really want for anything to happen between him and any woman tonight. He just wasn't in the mood for sex, and the continuous buzzing in his head caused by this weird beer Travis gave him certainly didn’t help.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not gonna happen tonight.” Darren said, as he gently took off the woman’s arm that had been feeling up his arms. “I don’t think you’ll have much problem finding more eager guys here.” He chuckled lightly, hoping the woman would leave him and look for some of his teammates. She looked at him for a few long seconds without saying a thing, which made Darren slightly uncomfortable, but before he had a chance to react she stood up.

“Well in that case, have a good night my gorgeous jock.” She smiled at him once again, then left and disappeared in the crowd. Darren felt like there was something slightly sinister in her last sentence, but dismissed the feeling. Damn, he needed some water, that beer was not good for his head.

“bro, what the fuck dude?” Drake suddenly appeared by his side. He was shirtless and sweaty, with signs of lipstick on his upper body suggesting he had already found a girl to get some action with. “did ya see these tits bro? guys would kill for Beth to come to them out of her own, and ya just let her go man?”

“You may not believe it, but I’m not always in the mood for sex” Darren rolled his eyes.

“exactly bruh, i don’t believe ya dude, yer a jock bro” Drake came up to him and put his arm around Darren’s shoulder “so ya should be horny as fuck bruh, like 24/7 or somethin’ like that” He then scratched his crotch, his cock visibly hard under his shorts.

“Sure, man” Darren didn’t really know how to respond so he got himself out of Drake’s arm and walked up to the bar to get something to drink. But when he got here and was ready to order, he felt that he was holding something. He looked down to see a bottle of that weird beer Travis gave him in his hand. Only it wasn’t his empty bottle. This one was full, unopened even. How did it-- damn, that buzzing in his head just wouldn’t stop. What was he planning to do? Oh yeah, get something to drink. He looked at the bottle for a moment. Then, as if driven by muscle memory, he opened the bottle and took a large sip. This didn’t taste that bad. Well, duh, if it tasted bad he wouldn’t have bought it. Wow, he was such a dumbass sometimes. Darren grinned to himself and made his way back to the football team’s table.

He was immediately surrounded by a few of his bros. Propped up by tons of alcohol, they were loud and obnoxious, making crude jokes and expecting Darren to join in. For now he just sipped on his beer and listened to the conversations happening around him, while trying to ignore the buzzing in his head. Travis and, uhhh… Brett? Was it Brett? No, wait, it was Travis and… Brandon, yes, Brandon. Brandon and Travis were loudly discussing how one of them has been juggling two chicks at the same time, and both found this hilarious. Darren felt inclined to follow their conversation, but when he tried to focus on what they were saying too much he felt the pain in his head intensify.

“bro, i’m tellin’ ya, yer dick feels great when ya give it fresh pus every week”

“yeah dude, that sounds sick, but ya know how chicks are… i bet Jessica would bitch about, like, infidelity or exclusivity or some other bullshit, i mean how do you make sure these chicks don’t get mad as fuck?”

Darren found this conversation weirdly fascinating. Normally he would steer away from any discussion like that, as he didn’t really like to listen as his teammates describe their dating life and strategies for hookups in detail. 

“bro, there’s one correct answer here - ya don’t tell ‘em dawg!” Wait, who said that? He did? Wow, that was unexpected. Except, why would it be? He was just talking with his bros, it would be unexpected if he didn’t join the conversation, right? Right?

“exactly bruh” Travis burst out laughing as he patted Darren on the back. “that’s what i’m talkin’ about. why the fuck would they have to know, i’m the one who’s the source of anythin’ good in their lives huhuhuhuh”. Brandon and Darren joined in, chuckling like idiots.

The discussion continued and Darren found himself in this weird state where he was sure he was taking part in conversations with his bros, joking and talking about getting chicks for a quick fuck, but at the same time his brain seemed to not register most of what was happening around him. He knew what was happening right in that moment, but what happened just a moment ago? A blank void. The party at the bar kept on going and Darren was an active part of that, always by his bros’ side but everything seemed disconnected from reality, somehow.

He was sitting by their table, officiating an arm wrestling competition between the linebackers. A moment later he’s standing by the bar watching as a teammate of his gets a girl to go to the bathroom with him. Suddenly he’s leaning against the wall and looking at some hot guy’s ass.

Darren blinked and looked around. He didn’t remember going to the bathroom. He looked down. There was a chick down there, slowly unzipping his pants and freeing his hard cock. I took him a moment to register what was going around him and in that time the girl - wait, was that, ugh… Betty… or, Brittney… yeah, Betty, that chick form earlier - turned around and put her bare ass in front of his dick.

“You promised action. Now deliver, my football star” she purred. Darren looked at her hole and was overcome by some instinct he didn’t recognize.

“Fuck yeah” he growled and got ready for his next conquest. Wait, conquest? His brain didn’t have time to process this thought though because his mind turned off just as he pushed his cock deeper.

Darren slowly opened his eyes. Fuck, he felt as if his head was about to explode. What… what was… he was… ugh, damn that fucking headache. Oh, yeah! He got drunk at a bar with his team. Why did he agree to drink so much booze—

Wait. Where was he? Darren looked around. He wasn’t at the bar, and he wasn’t in his dorm room. Maybe some kind of office? No no no, it didn't look like that either. God, why were the lights so bright? Darren raised his hand to cover his eyes— what the fuck? Why was he wearing his uniform? He looked down and yeah, he was in full gear, as if just before a game. Something was very wrong.

A silhouette appeared in front of him. Darren narrowed his eyes and recognized Drake, one of his teammates, also in full gear, walking up to him holding a protein shake in his hand

”take that, brah” His bro said, extending his hand with the shaker to Darren, who eagerly accepted it, suddenly very hungry. He then quickly drank the whole mixture. It tasted of peanut butter and banana, his favorite flavor.

”Thanks dude” Darren smiled Drake and gave him back the shaker, who in return slapped him on the shoulder and took a few steps back, now standing on the side of the room, which… wait, it was a locker room! His eyes now used to the lighting, he recognized the rows of lockers on the sides and the familiar smell of sweat reached his nostrils.

”What… what’s happening, Drake?” He asked, but the other football player did not react, standing still in the corner, looking straight with his arms behind his back. Only then did Darren realize that he was tied to the chair, ropes going around his abdomen and legs.

“What the fuck?” He muttered to himself, the headache still going. He tried to get Drake’s attention a few more times, but without much success. 

The door to the locker room opened and an older man wearing a very expensive suit walked inside. The man was holding something in his hand, it looked like a football helmet. Darren looked up as he stood in front of him.

”I’m glad to see you’re awake.” Darren furrowed his brow. That voice sounded a lot like that of Dean Prescott. Wait, what was he doing here?

”Sir… what am I doing here?” He asked. “And what time is it… I have practice at 2 and—”

”Oh, yes, the practice.” the Dean laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m going to make sure you’ll be there. Oh, don’t you worry about that. But first, I have one more thing to take care of.” With that, he put the helmet he was holding on Darren’s head, then looked him right in the eyes.

”You’ve been a pain in my ass for three years now, but finally I’m going to sort out the mess you’ve created.” The man said as a weird buzz suddenly surrounded Darren’s mind. The sound was extremely annoying, not loud enough to keep him from hearing what the Dean was saying, but loud enough that he couldn’t ignore it. Thankfully the helmet’s visor stopped the light in the room from assaulting Darren’s tired eyes.

”The entire time I’ve been the dean at Dark Forest I made sure everything worked perfectly. And that involved making sure that every student had a very specific role to play while attending my school. It’s way easier to control what’s going on when everyone behaves in predictable ways.” A smirk appeared on the older man’s face as he slowly walked up to Drake, who was still standing like a statue. “Nerds, theater kids, rich assholes” He put his hand around Drake’s shoulders “and of course jocks.” Dean’s hand moved south until it encountered Drake’s biceps. The man gave it a firm squeeze, a cocky smirk clearly displayed on his face. Darren watched the scene in pure confusion, not understanding why Drake didn’t react to Prescott acting like a weirdo-- fuck, that buzzin’ made it hard to concentrate, bro.

“Ever since I’ve started my program to make sure every member of the student strictly conformed to the role that I assigned them I’ve encountered no hiccups.” The Dean turned back towards Darren. “Take our man Drake Harris for example, he’s been incredibly easy to steer onto his correct path. Do you know he used to be a member of a glee club in high school?” He let out a hollow laugh “What insanity! But all it took was one two-hour football practice and Harris was a proud meathead, incapable of thinking about theater ever again. He’s now the jock he’s supposed to be. Right, Mr. Harris?” The Dean looked at Drake, who in response moved, his body shifting into an arrogant stance and a grin appearing on his face, then said:

“Yeah, dude” Drake’s voice was weirdly neutral, lacking some of his usual bravado and sounding a bit robotic. “I am a dumb jock. I work out every day. My IQ is lower than 80 and I have no interest in studying. I fuck every gril I want, and I fuck as many girls as I want. I am the alpha in the room. I am the greatest player this school has ever seen.” After he was finished, he went back to his previous stance, hands behind his back, looking straight ahead.

Darren looked at this whole scene with wide eyes, the buzz fading into the background as the implications of what he’s heard registered in his head.

“What are you..” He started speaking, only to realize his speech was a bit slurred, making him sound kinda drunk. Or kinda dumb. “Uhhh… so you, like… turn students into walking stereotypes?” Damn, why was it suddenly so hard for him to form a sentence and say it?

“I guess you could say so.” Dean Prescott moved towards Darren, stopping in front of him and looking down. “And you are the first obstacle I’ve encountered. You, Mr. Frost, were supposed to be just like Harris and the rest, a dumb brute who gets his brain turned into paste. But you just had to be all smart and academically successful.” He spoke the last few words with a high-pitched, mocking tone. “Oh, and gay. Or bi or whatever. God, what a disaster, a football player who gets fucked in the ass, disgusting.” He then looked at the watch on his wrist, chuckled and looked at Darren sitting speechless in front of him. “But this problem too is going to be solved in just a moment. The protein shake should have been absorbed by your body by now and the helmet is about to finish the priming stage.” 

“What’s gonna… happen to me…” Darren drawled, the buzzing growing in intensity and the headache coming back with more force. The older man leaned in and looked him in the eye.

“I’m gonna make sure you’ll turn into the dumb jock you were supposed to be form the moment you first stepped foot on this campus.”

Suddenly, the visor exploded with light, blinking images quickly appeared on it and then disappeared before Darren’s brain could register what was on them. The buzzing got so loud he could barely hear the Dean talking, even though he was standing right in front of him.

“Just a few minutes of this and you’ll be just one of dozens of dumb jocks of Dark Forest.”

Darren opened his eyes, surprised by some loud noise right in front of him. He blinked a few times and grinned. Chris had just slapped Brandon in the ass with a towel. Everyone was laughing at them and Darren quickly joined in. He looked around. He was in the football team’s locker room but couldn’t really remember--

“ey brah!” Drake, who was sitting right next to him, punched him in the shoulder “ya alright dude? cause yer lookin’ like ya just woke up bro. or maybe ya got distracted thinkin' bout Betty's wet pussy”

“nah, am fine, just…” Darren didn’t know what he wanted to say, so he just sat with his mouth slightly ajar, a dumb expression on his face, images of some chick's ass flooding his brain. He started drooling and scratched his crotch, while Drake just laughed in response.

“dude, yer so fuckin dense brah” He put on his helmet, still chuckling. Darren followed suit, putting on his own and taking his mouth guard in his hand.

“am a football player bro, ain’t gonna find no Einsteins here dude” He responded, a grin appearing on his face. Then he flexed both his arms, his biceps bulging under his skin. “just a bunch of fuckin’ meatheads, amirite bro?”

“fuckin A brah” Drake said. Then they exchanged fistbumps and stood up.

“ya ready for some fuckin’ football, bros?” Darren shouted to the rest of his teammates and got a bunch of ‘fuck yeahs’ in response. “then let’s fuckin go brahs!” He said and ran towards the field.