I’d seen him around the gym enough to know he was your typical big, dumb jock. All he cared about was getting a pump, strutting in shorts so tight you could see the seams of his jockstrap in back and practically count the threads in the bulge up front. He thought nothing of swatting guys on the ass after a heavy lift, make homophobic jokes, he was cocky and all laughs. The last time I caught him in the locker room, it was packed, and he was stripped down to just his jockstrap. I struck up a conversation, told him he was looking swole but a bit tight. He nodded, clueless. I lied, said I was a physical therapist, and before he could think twice, I had my hands on his delts, “loosening him up” while everyone else watched. He shrugged, dumb grin, letting me manipulate him before he ignorantly said he just hit legs.
Without another word, I pushed him forward, bending him at the waist, his bubble butt framed perfectly by the white jockstrap. I started massaging his hamstrings, then moved up to his glutes, squeezing and kneading his ass. I even sounded alarmed, telling him he was way too tight and needed to spread his legs a bit further. He obeyed, exposing his puckered asshole, still clueless, while I worked his twin globs like I was stretching him out.
Every guy in the gym was grinning, watching, winking at me, and nodding approval. They knew exactly what was happening. This cocky, dumb jock, always smacking asses and being a dick, was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. And I was the one serving it up, center stage.
The dumb jock stayed bent over, while I worked a finger deep into his asshole. A couple of guys nearby leaned in and asked, “What stretch is that?” I told them with authority it was a vital recovery move he’d been missing, probably the very thing holding back his gains. That was all it took. Soon more and more men crowded around, nodding, asking me to show them how. Within minutes, more than twenty guys were taking turns pressing one and sometimes a second finger, stretching out the dumb jock’s asshole.
The poor meathead just grunted and stiffly moaned, his face red as every man in the locker room had a go at “working out the tension.” By the time the last guy stepped back, the jock stood up in complete humiliation, his jockstrap pouch stretched tight by the remnants of an boner, a clearly visible wet cum spot marking the front.
I clapped him on the shoulder, assuring him it was perfectly normal after a proper glute stretch. Then I casually tossed him a dildo, telling him it was a glute foam roller, and it would help with his recovery. I said to make sure he used it in the gym showers after each workout. Red-faced, the dumb jock actually thanked me and the others before bolting off toward the communal showers, dildo in hand.
Twenty guys following behind, snickering and egging him on, he marched into the communal showers clutching the dildo. Steam filled the tiled room, and everyone circled in, arms crossed, waiting to see if he’d actually go through with it.
The big lug planted his feet wide under the spray, bent forward like I’d shown him earlier, and—dead serious—started working the dildo into his asshole, grunting and muttering that he could “already feel the tension releasing.” The shower erupted with laughter, guys tried to cover for the outburst, chanting his name and encouragement like he was hitting a new PR
Every grunt and moan he made just made the crowd howl. His jockstrap pouch, already soaked, sagged heavy, before a new load of cum appeared, dripping as his “recovery” carried on. By the end, he pulled himself upright, water pouring off his swollen body, red-faced and breathing hard. The guys roared of applause, delivering ass-swats as they congratulated him.
The guys really leaned into it. They’d toss him a fresh dildo every week, each one bigger or more ridiculous than the last — double-ended, ribbed, even one shaped like a baseball bat. He had no clue, thinking it was part of his “progression.” The best part? He still thanked us afterwards, swearing it made him stronger, while the rest of us nearly keeled over laughing, high-fiving each other on the way out.
