Gridiron TF

what's up bros

to make this blog a bit more accessible, this is gonna be an index of all of my stories and other stuff connected with me, neatly divided into themes

also hey, i have a discord server for horny bros that y’all should join asap - here's the link

everything's under this pic of a hot stud

Jock TF

Todd goes to a gym / Academic requirements / A Son, Reformed / Muscles In Chains / The Rookie's Figuring It Out / Headphones In, Guns Out / Waiting For The Roommate / Mandatory PE Class / A Real Jock's Supposed to Be Dumb / Cocky And Proud, By Accident / Elevator Malfunction / Former Friend / There Are Always Jocks / Desperation In College / The Jocks Of Dark Forrest College / Strings Attached /

Jock-focused

Under Armour Jock™ / Coach's Process of Developing a Jock / More Loyal, More American, More The Same / Muscle Memory / Inside A Jock's Mind / Script For A Jock / No-Trade Clause / Taming The Football Beast / Enforcing The Bro Code / Just Let It Go, Brah /

Cop/Soldier reprogramming

Programming Adjustment / Law, Order and Musk / Personal Muscle, Uniform Included / A Guard Programmed To Control And Obey / Summer Bootcamp / Army Surplus / Neighborhood Association / Another Cop For The Collection /

Gym Bro TF (and adjacent)

Gym Bro / Bro Advice / A Workout Break / This Is How You Recruit Gym Bros / Waking Up Huge And Jocked / Empty Eyes, Pumped Bis / The Grindset / Big Bro's Job / The Bro Zone Resort /

Inanimate TF

Not In The Exhibit Brochure /

NPC TF

Player Of The Month / Guarding The Base / Gamer Night /

Biker TF

Fitting Into The Gear /

Other stuff

Discord - I run a discord server for other horny bros, come join us

Commissions - I am open for commissions. Want me to write you a story? Check the linked post for all the necessary details

#AMA - you can see all the questions I have answered from previous AMAs under this hashtag

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.

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. 

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

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!

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.

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.

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.

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

also sup brahs

am not dead, dude

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