Sylv's TFs

One of the first steps in converting losers and geeks like you into cocky, red-blooded jocks is getting them in uniform - the pads, pants, helmet, and most importantly the jersey. You can't help but find this sleek design and shiny fabric enticing right? I know every fiber of you wishes you could wear it like me, that you could just put it on for even a minute.

Once a nerd puts the jersey on, it breaks their brain and makes part of the team. Puffed up shoulders perfectly framing your blooming biceps, with the fabric shining and stretching with every step you take and every flex of your new muscles. Wearing a jersey is a constant reminder that you rule the school. Why do you think every athlete wears theirs even when it's not gameday bro? Seeing your bros wearing the same thing just feels so good, like the team is invincible. And when you've got your number printed all over you, you lose yourself. You're not you anymore, just part of this greater thing - the TEAM. Sometimes the new blood get real wrapped up in their number and get chains or tattoos with it. Makes it feel that much more like you're one of us.

But the more he wore them, the more he realized he stressed way too much about life. Being hot and cocky was way more fun - his brother had the right idea all along. Good thing he had all that Christmas cash to fix up his wardrobe and grab a gym membership. With his big bro's help he'd be ready to pledge in no time.

"Shit, not the fucking door too man!" cussed Connor as the door to his dorm's shared bathroom laid sideways in the frame, having just fallen off its hinges. College was supposed to be his big new start, but everything in this first day had been shit. He missed his first class going to the wrong building, had the tires on his bike stolen, and at the end of it all he had to walk back to his run-down dorm building where the hot water still wasn't working... and now the door.

"Fuck it, I'll just play some WoW or something," he said, walking over to his computer setup. Within five minutes though, he was up again, having discovered the internet connection was so bad he couldn't even log in. It was still early afternoon outside, the sunlight filtering in through the dusty window of his dorm. At the very least he could make sure he knew where his next class was, so he didn't miss it like the first one. Throwing his ratty shoes and loose-fitting knitted sweater on, he headed out the door. Thankfully this one didn't fall off like the last one, but he still just felt tense as he walked out the building's lobby and into the afternoon sun.

His dorm building sat just off the campus quad, which at this point in the day was filled with both students rushing to class and those doing anything to avoid it. As Connor walked across the cracked sidewalks that crisscrossed the green lawn he couldn't help but notice the number of guys just relaxing in the sun. It was hard not to feel outclassed, comparing his greasy brown hair, sweater, and loose jeans to their clean cuts and perms and athletic clothes that draped ever so perfectly against well-defined muscles.

Whatever, he knew he was a nerd. It was fine. Why should he care about fitting in - he didn't in high school anyways. He'd just keep on with his online friends... unless they got busy. That could be a problem. Well, he couldn't even worry about that now since the internet sucked. Maybe his suitemate would know how to fix it? No, they hadn't even moved in yet. And what are the chances they'd even speak to him after he already broke the bathroom door! Fuck, he'd have to get that fixed soon. Where was the maintenance office? Wait, no he was supposed be looking for his next cla-

WHAM

Connor felt a sharp pain on the back right of his skull and the world seemed to spin and flash white for a bit. When he finally got a hold of himself he was looking up at the sky... and there was some guy in orange and white on top of him. Was he... talking? His mouth was moving at least...

"...ro. ...ey, bro ar... ... Bro? Bro, are you okay?"

"Ugh... yeah, I guess, what happened?" replied Connor. The guy above him seemed to lean back a bit after hearing him speak. His bright ginger curls looked fiery in the sun, and dang, he was kinda built too. Was he an athlete? "Yo, I'm so sorry man. I was laxing out with my bro, Casey, and you looked like you zoned out right in the middle of our pass. Freaked me out when you just stopped moving like that, can't like."

"Oh... uh, sorry? I didn't notice I guess. Was kinda wrapped up in my own thoughts or something." Connor couldn't help but mumble. The day just couldn't get any worse could it.

Meanwhile, the ginger hunk squatting over him just turned slightly and yelled back over his shoulder, "Yo, Casey, hurry up with the ice would ya'? And grab a drink too, this guy looks like he could use it!"

He turned back to Connor now, "Nah bro, you're all good. It just happens sometimes. You seemed super stressed out so, I get it bro. Casey and I are like that too right before a big game, but then you like, lock in super hard when the whistle blows and it all washes away and shit."

Connor just stared blankly at this mystery man, clearly from a different world than his own. "Uh... right." As he sat up straight, he felt the burly hand of this ginger "bro" hold his shoulder steady, directing his gaze towards another guy, presumably Casey, jogging over with a wet-looking blue bag and a sports bottle.

"Zach, I got the stuff. How's he doing?" Casey was similarly built to the ginger guy, who Connor assumed to be Zach, but with straight brown hair, squatted down on his left and handed him the drink.

"Where does it hurt bro? We got an ice pack for you."

Sheepishly, Connor accepted the drink and started to look around. There were a few stray glances from passerby, but thankfully it didn't look like he caused a scene... "Just the back right of my head, I can get it," he replied, taking the ice pack with his free hand and holding it to his head.

The cold was sharp but quickly became soothing as it spread from the base of his neck to the rest of his head. As he took a sip of the drink too, he found it tasted oddly good. There was a distinctive metallic note to it, but mostly it was a fruit punch flavor with lots of pineapple and orange. Before he knew it, Connor had downed the whole bottle.

"Fuck, that tasted really good? What is that anyways?"

Casey spoke up, "It's Coach's recipe for the lax team. Gatorade but with his special blend of electrolytes and shit, more or less."

"Huh, so you guys play... lax? Is that a sport, I guess?"

Zach and Casey laughed. "Lacrosse bro. It's sick, you ever played?"

"Nah, look at me man. I haven't played anything in my life." Zach seemed to give the faintest smirk to Casey. "You sure bro?" At this point he began to stand up, and with Casey lifted Connor up by his arms. "I've got a hard time believing someone with these arms doesn't at least work out."

Connor glanced down at his arms. They didn't look particularly built. Well, were they always that tan? He moved them up and down, flexing them a bit. They weren't as twiggy as he thought they were... huh.

"Nah, I really didn't play anything. Guess it's just natural?"

Casey responded, "Fuck bro, if that's natural you've definitely gotta lax out. Come over here."

The two athletes practically pulled Connor along towards their bags, which had been sitting out on the ground a ways away. Connor could see sticks with nets on the ends sticking out, a number of pieces of what looked like chest pads, white rubber balls (presumably what he just got hit with) and a number of other things he didn't quite recognize.

Zach, meanwhile, had already grabbed a set of pads and a stick and was heading back to Connor. "Here bro, throw this over your head," he said, tossing him the pads.

"What?"

"Just do it bro, you don't wanna get beamed with the rock again, right? Casey's got a lid for you too."

Connor looked uncertain but seeing both guys smiling was enough to win him over. "Hey," he thought, "may as well see what it's like to be an athlete for a bit." He struggled briefly with the pads before Zach helped to slide them into place over his shoulders. They felt a bit heavy, but it felt kinda nice too. He was still chilly from the ice pack and the heaviness just made him feel... calm. Or maybe just chilled out?

Casey came in quick with the helmet from the left. Connor had only caught a glimpse of it before. It looked wild, being mostly white but with burgundy and gold decals all along it. Wait... those were the university colors. Was this a helmet from the lacrosse team?

Connor took a step back from Casey. "Wait, guys, is this university property? That's a bit too much for me, I mean I'm just-"

Casey was already at his side and the helmet came down. The inside was soft, not at all what he expected from how jagged the outside looked. It was kind of dark as well, though he could see through the first gap between the bars on the front. Was he actually wearing the school helmet? Was he wearing sports gear right now? In public? What would people think?

Connor could feel and hear the two athletes still strapping on elbow pads but at the same time he felt that calm from before. Did it really matter? He was just trying it out. And the two players with him would clear up any confusion, since they seemed like bros. Yeah... this was fine actually.

He reached up to adjust his helmet a bit as Casey approached with a stick. "Here bro, just follow along with Zach and I and we'll teach you the basics. Just relax."

Connor's mind was blank. Whatever Casey and Zach said was what he did. Learning how to hold his spoon, passing around the rock, stationary at first and then while running. Somehow, no matter what he did he never felt tired. And when the group got thirsty, Coach's drink was always close at hand. As the sun began to set, Zach and Casey called it in.

Connor, like the other two, was drenched in sweat. He didn't even really remember taking his sweater and shirt off, but he must have at some point, because he was bare torso in the setting sun. But man, his body really was better than he gave it credit for. Zach had even said his genetics were crazy to have abs without working out. And Connor felt great. Amazing even! What was he even worried about earlier today? Nothing important, he was sure.

"Zach, Casey, bros. Lax is like, crazy dope dudes."

Zach was the first to reply. "Bro, it's insane you've never laxed before, you picked it up crazy fast. You should honestly talk to Coach. He's got walk-ons next week and if you work with him and us a bit more, I bet you could clinch a spot."

"No way bro, that's crazy. Play for the school? I'm not as good as you two."

Casey butted in. "Bro, you're insane for a newbie. Trust the process, bro. You'd be on in no time. In fact, we should head over now so you can meet him. Help us pack and shit, and we'll jog over. You down?" "Damn bro, really? Fuck yeah, let's do it."

----------

Needless to say, the walk-on tryouts were a bit of a blowout. With Coach's guidance, Connor was a standout performer, ready to take the field for the team and crush their opponents every time. His new shorter haircut that Coach recommended suited him, just like his new number, #17, and his new carefree, cocky attitude. And like the loyal bros they are, Zach and Casey made sure to grab a picture with their new recruit at media day.

Yeah bro... this guy right here is your nerd friend. That's what we keep telling you bruh. Coach's file fried his brains real good and the protein shakes beefed him up. He's #11 now bro, bleeding blue and white for the TEAM. He was stoked to get his uniform and finally be one of us, huhuhuh.