Jocking, The: Third Quarter

15:00

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By CallMeCrazy

First off, sorry it took so long. School. Second, please don't be mad. So, lots of changes. I know I shouldn't really do this, but I had to. Forgive me. So, I've tried and tried to write the fourth part, and everyone version was terrible. So I decided to try something new. And I think it's gonna work. I'm basically doing a serial. Fifteen minutes in the third quarter, each minute released individually. So they will be shorter. Sorry, but they should be clearer. I really need everything to come together here, and this is the best way. I hope to really get in gear again. This is the first thing I've ever really written, so I'm experimenting with new things, and I realize it can be a little hard to control a plot. Thanks everyone for their support. Please enjoy the first minute of the quarter.

[b]15:00: KICKOFF[/b] [i][u]The Human Resources Employment Catalog:[/i][/u]

[u][i][/u]Subject: Chloe Barnette[/i]

[u]Company Information [/u]- Employment: 4 Years, 1 Month, 2 Days Department: (Censored) Research Division Position: Department Chair [u]Personal Information[/u] - Age - 20 Years, 11 Months, 28 Days Education: Attended University of (Censored) BS in Chemical Engineering Doctorate in Particle Fusion and Carbon Bonding Relations: Monica Barnette (Mother) - Departmental Engineer with (Censored) - Deceased (Censored) - Father - (Censored) Residence: (Censored) [u]Physical Characteristics[/u] - Height: 5'5 Weight: (Censored) Hair: Brown Eyes: Hazel Ethnicity: Russian-Australian Identifying Marks: High-Heeled Shoes Scar on Left Hand Rumored to Have Tattoo on Left Breast [u]Reason for Dismissal[/u] - Refusal to abide by company policy Refusal to release data on (Censored) project Danger to self Danger to employer Threat to company Attacked security officer, Dale Hernandez Threatened company VP, Maxwell Moore [u]Termination Information[/u] - Being held at (Censored) until (Censored) arrives Termination in (Censored) days, (Censored) hours [u]Method of Termination[/u] - Permanent Destruction A cold wind blew through the blossoming tree, tossing fragile white petals into the air, each landing on the calm, grassy dell. The sun shimmered over the horizon, lighting the small plain with colorful rays. Beneath the oversized tree, two boys sat. A short, muscular man of dark skin tones, and another, paler and taller than the first. He was laughing, a small chuckle, barely audible over the wind. He stared into the eyes of the smaller boy, who smiled in return. It was a calm moment of paradise, so filled with hope and vision it was beyond words. So simple, and yet so perfect. As his eyes closed slowly, he could feel the light touch of the man behind him, pulling him in closer. His heart rushed with anticipation and fear. It was so easy and clean. He pushed himself forward, onto the cold, hard lips of the other boy. Painfully hard actually. Adam woke with his lips pressed firmly to the concrete floor. Confused about what he had dreamed, he found himself a little shocked at the nature of his dream. And his own sadness at it not being true. It took another moment for his mind to focus on his surroundings. Lying on a concrete floor, he remembered smashing some tube, rescuing that damn singer. He picked him up and started to leave . . . and then there was a sharp pain. Reaching his hand against the back of his head, he felt a large bump along the back of his skull. And now this. His blind determination had got him captured. The iron bars of his medieval cell would never budge under his natural strength. It was only when his mind really began to comprehend the situation that he realized he was alone. No James, and no Kai. And no way out. "Wake up sunshine!" An exhausted Kai struggled to open his eyes, focusing hard on the image in front of him. A shadowy figure, someone rescuing him . . . but it was Briggs, cocky and confident as ever. "Fuck," were the only words that Kai could mutter under the circumstances. It was over, as far as he was concerned. His singular hope was gone, along with the boy. Briggs pulled the distraught singer to his feet and practically carried him away, Kai being unable to hold himself up, let alone walk. It was strange, feeling again. The rush of the wind as he was swiftly carried down the hall, the electronic murmur of the fluorescent lighting, all felt new and exciting. But his being was also filled with a terrible sense of absence, like a small child who lost a prized toy, as though he could never be whole again. "Iím interested to see how you react," Briggs said as Kai hung limp in the air. "What do you mean?" "Well, no one has ever experienced a return after the process happened. And your return was so violent anyway. I bet you must feel terrible." Almost on cue, Kai threw up on the floor behind Briggs. It didnít falter the larger man, who continued down the hall. "Donít worry though, Iíll have you back in no time Rock." [i]Rock? What the fuc- oh, I remember. Briggs turning me into one of his dumb jocks. Running damn plays and hauling around an oversized body in that tight, seamless uniform. Playing the game. Rushing and tackling, the smell, so rotten and homey. The pleasure, the satisfaction, thatís what I was running from? Thatís what I was trying to stop? Suddenly it occurs to me that I could actually be the villain.[/i] They didnít know the two boys sitting in front of them, but they were taking the challenge. Stackers watched their opponents with curious anticipation. Both short, one had spiked, pink hair, while the other had enough piercings on his face for over eight girls. And yet these two goth geeks were stepping up for a food eating contest against the right and left guards of a professional football team. Not that they minded, these were the type they most wanted, it just seemed out of character. But the two, Stackers hadnít bothered to catch their names since they would abandon that life soon, had accepted the challenge eagerly. The prize, should the other team win, was one thousand dollars worth of prizes from the NFL (soon to be known as JCK) and Underarmor. In actuality it was a brand new uniform for the new jock. Usually people challenge one man or the other, but these two wanted to do a dual challenge. People had been lined up for hours already, but Stackers werenít getting full. They didnít have to eat at all, their bodies converted the food into XAP, which they would excrete onto every new patch of food to give it the extra special jock flavor. Five plates were laid down in front of the teams. Rib eyes, T-bones, Chopped Brisket, Sliced Brisket, and Meatballs from left to right, each covered in thick BBQ sauce. A buzzer went off and it began. The goth boys started with the meatballs. Effortlessly they popped the balls like oversized pills. At first it was just a little extra meat on their bones. Their skintight pants began to stretch further as the once bony legs began to fill with muscle. It was just a small growth in the thigh, but halfway through the plate even the calves were bursting out of the constricting leggings. The boys smacked their lips greedily, enjoying the seductive taste of the sauce. Through some force of magic, the pants managed to expand with the growing legs. The pants dug into the thighs, showing off the monstrous cuts in the leg, stretching to almost thirty inches of thick, hard muscle. The boys were moving around in their seats a bit, trying to find a way to be comfortable, unaware of their growth. They blinked in quiet confusion while eating, each finally setting their legs wide apart, just enough for the massive girth of the thighs. The goth boys moved a bit slower now, and after finishing the first plate they looked up to check on their opponents. Stackers were through with the meatballs and beginning to tackle the sliced brisket. Deciding to follow their lead, the two dug in. Both were amazed that rather than feeling full, they both possessed a voracious hunger unlike anything they had ever felt. Like they had some great emptiness inside them. And like many bulimic girls, they tried to fill that void with hunger. The sliced brisket slid down their anxious throats, covering their insides with thick goo. Their delicate wrists began to expand, while their shoulders slowly pushed their tight shirts outward. With each bite, the biceps grew a little bigger, the triceps cut was a bit deeper, and shoulder grew bigger and rounder. Once slender arms grew outward. Biceps pushed out, forcing the fabric of the shirt to stretch to its very limits. Soon, their thick fingers were grabbing at the generous helping of brisket. They had to hold their arms out to the side rather than straight in front, as their biceps would smack each other. Deltoids grew like two huge sphere as their shoulders grew past two feet of hard muscle. The boys were finding it hard to concentrate on anything but eating. The original plan had been to distract themselves but now it was hard to focus, like they were stoned. Stackers watched with amusement as the two boys grew disproportionally. With their new oversized arms and legs, the boys adapted to new ways of moving. They lost the focus in their eyes, as everything in life became useless and unimportant. Only once football was introduced would they be able to truly concentrate on something for an extended period of time, and then only football. The boys proceeded onto the chopped brisket, not bothering to check the progress of the competition, who were eating quickly so they could watch the transformation. The two boys dug in, shoving mouthfuls of food down their throating, licking their XAP covered fingers before they reached for another handful. Slowly, two round mounds began to form underneath their shirts, each moment they pressed further against the cotton shirt. Their laterals grew like a bodybuilder on steroids. They moved around the seat restlessly, as a new muscular ass formed beneath them. They reached down to the food more each minutes, as their bodies shot up a few feet. Soon, they could only lean in a short way before their gargantuan pecs hit the table. The expanding laterals forced their arms to the side even more, and they adapted seamlessly, forcing more and more of the altered food into their bodies. They were more than sixty inches around and still growing. Thoughts they once clung to faded away. Individuality, expression, art all faded away into the nothingness of their hunger void. They ate away their names and knowledge, leaving only a desire to continue eating in its place. It took too much energy to even think about eating, all they could do was chew and swallow. Stackers looked at the chiseled bodies of the new left and right tackles, identical models of each other. However, their faces still retained their original forms. Nothing remained inside the head. The boys dug into the rib eyes. They chewed the pounds of fat and meat like jelly. And every bite they ate changed them more. The pink hair and piercings faded away, leaving two men with buzzed black hair. Their jaws squared out as their eyes faded to a deep brown. The noses broke and reformed, and the ears stuck just a bit to the side. Lips grew just a bit fuller as the necks became thick and vascular, matching the rest of the body. They sat still for a moment after finishing, concentrating hard on what to do. Stackers look adoringly at the new men, perfect copies of each other, just like them. They nodded to the new jocks as they began to each the T-bone. The former goths began to eat too. And with the first bite, they gained a new life. The moment the sweet taste of fat and XAP entered their mouths, Crusher and Crusher knew their own names. They sounded funny and stupid, but then they remembered it was because they were football jocks. Football was so great. They were identical twins, and they played left and right tackles on the offensive line. Another bite and they knew who the guys sitting across from them were, Stackers, the guards on the line. They were always having contests. Good fuckers, those motherfuckers were. Yeah football rocked. Crushers hated those damn goth freaks, they all needed to learn how to play. Life would be great once everyone was a jock. As the last piece slid down their throat, Stackers had finished. They smiled at the two men ebony jocks sitting across from them. Crushers shrugged their shoulders at the loss. They lifted their massive bodies from the table and spoke simultaneously in deep voices to bring in the fresh meat. They strutted to the back room where they put on one thousand dollars worth of special order football gear, and went to practice, acting like the dumb jocks they loved being. [b]14:00 remaining in the quarter . . . [/b] •


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