You know he's straight.

You know he's merely queerbaiting you.

You know that if you keep following him to the locker room in hope to be able to get lost in his sweaty, hairy butt crack, you'll probably found several other jocks already waiting and ready to tie you down to the bench and piss at you or inflicting all sorts of heinous prank on you.

"That's exactly the plan, dude. I'm gonna wear Justin over here and do whatever the fuck I want and in the end of the day, everyone will remember it as Justin's action as they are going to witness him doing all those things. Me? I'll remain the nice and respected high school History teacher for this district. They will buy the idea of me spending my summer studying ancient pyramids in Egypt and Mexico instead of partying with all the local college jocks and hot babes in the frat party under the guise of a fucking entitled douchebag of a redshirt senior. And you can join me too if you want, I have the bodysuit vial and a whole lot of contact list of Justin's friends as soon as I put this jock's on and access his iPhone with ease. So, are you in?"

It's the dog tag. The dumb jock is unaware that the dog tag passed by his father actually contained mind-controlling chip that will emit command that his brain unable to resist upon wearing. Just a standard military procedure to create a bunch of obedient, well-disciplined, ruthless drone. Taking it off is the only way for the effect and control to wear off and people with them tend to be very protective and defensive about it, plus the subconscious alteration already imbedded on the tag will create irrational fear, guilt and all sorts of feeling if their mind ever think or swayed to take it off.