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Jocking, The: Halftime
|Rock’s life continued. Playing intense football games followed by night time jockings, each time the voice in his head becoming quieter and quieter. And without the voice it was so much easier to obey Brute and Snake and Briggs. Briggs was such a brilliant man. Rock couldn’t understand what the voice had against him.
A great change occurred after a game. Rock had achieved a record breaking number of sacks, and the team was celebrating. In congratulations, Briggs slapped the defensive end on his ass. Rock immediately froze. Something about the smack was so pleasant. It was like petting a dog for fetching the paper. Part of him wanted Briggs to do it again, to tell him he did a good job.
And over the next few games he did. Each time, Rock’s mind soared with intense delight. Each time he got a butt slap, he became a bit more like a perfect jock. His muscles got a little firmer, a little bigger. His ass got wider and perkier. The deep haze of confusion and sexual satisfaction descended further and further. At the end of one week he was 7'2 and 589 pounds. He could barely turn his head to either side, and his arms had to hang at a ninety degree angle to avoid bumping into his laterals, now more like reversed mountain than a simple V. His voice was so deep it sounded ridiculous to even speak. Not that he could form any coherent phrases anymore. Mostly he just sounded his approval though fuck and a few other words. And his cock was thicker still, threatening to erupt each time Briggs slapped him.
One day, Briggs told the entire team to congratulate Rock. Rock stood in place as each member of the team smacked his bubbly ass. His cock thickened and hardened each time. His posture became more erect and his body continued to expand. Brute slapped him and playfully bouncing his fat. That was too much for Rock, whose massive cock began to spurt beneath the confines of the uniform. It was life a fire hose, and with each successive slap it blew harder and faster. By the time Briggs got to him, Rock had poured about a gallon of cum mixed with XAP in his cup. Briggs old hand grabbed the young flesh and he whispered, "Welcome home," in Rock’s ear. He collapsed on the floor, completely overwhelmed by the pleasure. His mind became even more football centric, as most of his previous thoughts and memories where banished. His hair became totally bleached blonde.
After lying in satisfaction for a moment, Rock got on his feet and pulled off his helmet. He examined his body in the mirror. The 7'5 613 pound defensive end was a monster. His shoulder, broad as steel beams, were covered by unreal pads and a jersey stretched so tight, leading down to his cut waist. Even in the long sleeved shirt he was wearing, every crevice of Rock’s immense muscles showed through, every cut and vein popped out of the lycra. The spandex pants highlighted his mountainous, fatty ass. And the cup could barely contain the cock monster beneath. The pants showed each cut and vein in his quads, much like the arms. And the socks covered huge calves. His neck was a thick mess of veins. His ape-like, masculine face was beautiful. His strong jaw and large forehead, along with the hair cut which made it look even larger. His loose jaw hung open, allowing him to breathe through his mouth. Every breathe, his huge muscles moved up and down.
Rock was home.
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