Disclaimer: The following is a story of a homosexual nature and is sexually explicit. Please do not read if you are a minor or if it is illegal where you live to do so. Remember to think smart to play smart. Use protection. Today's story is about an out high school football player and his boyfriend. There are many who accept, but his obnoxious teammate does not. The teammate can't leave, but there must be a way to fix that. What if it was his boyfriend on the team? If this sounds like something you wish to read, be my guest and read. If it is not, go back and look for another story to read.
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My Boyfriend My Teammate
You have heard the saying that you can't judge a book by its cover. Look at me. Get a real good look at me and what's the first thing that comes to mind? You see a muscular teen with blond hair and bluish green eyes and conclude that Braden McSwain must be a jock. You think I am only interested in sports, physical fitness, and girls. You probably think I'm even dumb as a brick and I love picking on those who are lower on the high school social ladder. You don't know me at all.
I freely declare that I exhibit several characteristics you associate with my kind. My sport is football and I play tight end for the Henry A Sawyer High Eagles. I work out at the gym frequently and average three to four times a week, but I am not including practice on the field. I enjoy standing in front of my mirror and pose while I take selfies. I glide my fingers across the firm landscape that is my torso to caress my abs and pecs. I flex and cup my 15-inch biceps. It is a thrill being an exhibitionist and flaunt what genetics and hard work has bestowed on me. It is clearly obvious looking down. Boing! In addition to my awesome physique, my face is masculinely gorgeous. I enjoy dressing in a way that highlights my assets, but I am clothed decently enough as not be provocative or violate my school's dress code. Now it's time to reject other notions you have about me.
I am not stupid. I know I act like a goofball sometimes, but do not see this as evidence that I'm stupid. My best classes are Literature and Computer Science. My worst subject is Math, but I make nothing less than a C+ there.
I do not, never had, and never will torment those deemed by school culture to be of lower status. Not only do I have better things to do with my time, but it's also not cool. I try to get along with everyone, but there are people out there who are so despicable that it can be difficult. The most awful of these individuals was David Donner, but more on him later. He and other bullies know that I will not tolerate their repugnant pastime. As soon as they see me, they scatter. One such target was Takeru Kamiya, but more on him later.
Who is Dave? Ugh. Do not remind me who he is. He is our quarterback, and he is one of the best our school has ever seen. He has the skills and is knowledgeable in football. I wholeheartedly acknowledge this. I will also wholeheartedly admit that he's hot because he's as attractive and muscular as me. There are differences between us because he's six feet tall which is two inches taller than me, and he has jet black hair as opposed to my golden blond hair. Even if he was into guys like me and he was the last man on Earth, I would never have anything to do with him. He's that loathsome. He thinks he's better than us and bosses us around. Out of earshot, he says that he would make a better coach than Mr. Evans and questions his leadership. We have tried to get him kicked, but we have failed.
Dave comes from a highly affluent family. He lives in a luxuriously large house with the best home gym money can buy and he even has as a personal trainer. Joseph Donner, his father, was a former football player himself and he's our school's biggest donor. He has provided the best equipment money can buy. Personalized jerseys also. Every time he catches wind that the school's attempting to cut Dave from the team for any reason, he comes to campus to shell out enough money to convince the administration to begrudgingly keep him. He makes grades that are good enough for him to stay on the team. Paid tutors have sacrificed much to help him achieve that "good enough." We all put up with him because of his father's interventions. How I wish we could trade him away. We all wished it, but we were powerless. Painfully powerless.
Takeru, or Tucker for those that prefer to call him by his American name, is the opposite. He's brainy but never talks condescendingly towards those who struggle with their studies. He is also willing, within reason, to assist anyone who needs help with their lessons. He's Nisei and his family is middle-class. His parents moved here from Japan a few months before he was born. He has often joked that he and his family are permanently here on a temporary basis because they've been here all these years with no sign that they would ever be going back. Kaito, his dad, works at a branch office of Tachibana Tech as a manger. He was offered a huge promotion with a raise and perks to move to the States. Takeru is fully fluent in both English and in Japanese which is the only language used in his household unless they have visitors, like me, over.
I have often wished that Takeru was our teammate instead of Dave. Regrettably, he's slim and short with meager musculature. Even if he had a physique like mine, he has zero interest in football or any sports. Despite our differences, we enjoy being with each other and we love each other greatly.
Into guys? Yes. I did mention that although it took me a while to admit that freely to myself. Girls find me alluring and how could they not with a body like mine? A hot guy full of teenage virility would be highly desirable and I could probably have any girl I wanted. However, I would never approach a relationship like that. They may get a kick while checking me out, but they don't do anything for me. Nope. Not even a twitch. I have known this truth for the past several years. I have remained in the closet because I was afraid of what other people would think of me and how their perceptions of me would change. I felt shame for distancing myself from my feelings, but my fear was stronger than my shame. Eventually I met someone that gave me the strength to claim what I had denied. Takeru was that someone.
It was last year when I was a Junior. I was heading back to the locker room with my teammates after an intense practice. As usual, Dave was being an ass. Coach Evans never talked ridiculed us the way Dave was doing right now. Coach's critiques were tempered by motivating words and he would say that he expected better from us because he knew that we could do better. Words based on wisdom rather than arrogance. Dave would call us losers and that we made him look like a failure. He always said that he was better than us and that any appearance of failure on his part was always our fault or Coach's fault, never ever his.
On the way back, we approached Takeru who seemed to be in a daze until he saw us getting closer. He began to hastily stuff the sketchpad he had with him into his backpack. It was apparent that he didn't want us to see what he had drawn. Dave leapt and snatched the pad before it could be put away, "What you got there?" As he thumbed through it, his predatory curiosity quickly morphed into disgust. "Hey Braden! Check out what Twiggy got here!"
My feet stomped and I glowered at him as I headed in his direction. "Don't call Takeru that. Not around me not ever. I've told you that a hundred times. Call him Takeru or Tucker." Dave scoffed, "I don't care what his name is. I'm sticking up for you. Look at this sicko drawing he did of you." He tossed the pad at me, and I picked it up from the ground. I swiped the dust from it and began to look through it as Takeru had his face buried in his hands.
As I browed his artwork, my mind focused on the pervasive theme. Every image featured attractive young men, the type that set my imagination ablaze with lust. Whether they were from animated programs or comic books or video games, if they were male and hot, they were viable candidates for his art. Most of these guys were shirtless. It was clear to me that he was a devotee of the type of masculine form I exhibited.
I eventually found the one that Dave referred to. I had become Takeru's latest source of inspiration and it was clear that I was the first male who was a real person. There I am leaning against a locker. I am wearing just my football pants, socks, and cleats. Only the magnificence of my bare firm toro is on display as I place one hand on my waist and the other on my inner thigh. Entranced, I flip to the next page. I am in full gear with my helmet by my side on locker room bench. Takeru has me in his embrace. One arm is around my waist and the other is clutching my bubble butt. We kiss each other intensely while my arms are around his waist. It was evident that he had the hots for me.
I look down at Takeru who still has his face in his head. His body quivers with fright and misery as he is surrounded by these muscular young men. What will Braden McSwain do to him? I stand in front of him and ask, "Look at me." He struggles to look up and I ask, "Please." Still frozen. I stoop down, "You did this? Is this what you think of me? Is this what you'd want to do with me?" Takeru's eyes barely peek out from his fingers, and he nods reluctantly.
Dave excitedly exclaims, "See! Twiggy admits it! Now kick his ass!" My teammate appears thrilled that someone has finally pushed the right button in me. The right button was pressed, but not the one he was thinking of. I looked at Takeru and pulled him up to his feet. My rapidly beating heart sailed over the edge of the waterfall, "I didn't know that you felt that way about me. If you wanted a kiss from me, you could have just asked." I pulled him towards me and placed one arm around his shoulder and my other arm around his waist. I leaned forward and placed my lips on his. He is caught off guard, but he quickly gets into the mood. He places his hands on my waist. There is no turning back for me. For Takeru, I will not go back.
I let go after an eternal minute and Coach soon appears wondering where we all were. Dave smugly recounted what had happened and emphasized how much he found our kiss disgusting. The rest of the team glowers at him and Coach shared the sentiment, "I don't give a damn if they were kissing each other. These young men have every right to kiss each other if this is something they both want." He looked at Takeru and asks, "You are okay son? Right?" Takeru stood firm and smiled at me blissfully before he turned to our coach, "Yes. I am now." I hand him back his sketchpad which he places in his backpack. He joyfully looks back at me and winks as he leaves the stadium. Under Coach's stern gaze, we head back inside.
As us guys shower, nothing seems to have changed. I have just come out of the closet, and nothing has seemed to change. Maybe everyone is in shock? Not Dave though. If it was possible for someone to appear more disgusted with another, he was the one. He mocked, "No wonder you're a tight end. I bet you dream about taking it up the ass when you beat your meat. I guess you'll find out how good of a tight end when he's with you. That is if you feel anything when he has a go at your ass." He chortled loudly and my teammates sneer at him lividly. Their fists tighten eager to beat him to a pulp regardless of the consequences, but I waved them off. They decided to give him venomous looks, but he was too oblivious to notice because he was too caught up in his own arrogance.
Once I was home after practice, I told my parents what had happened. I dreaded telling them why I never went on dates or brought girls home. They seemed accepting of gays on TV or in public, but I was reluctant to gamble. Not anymore. I still didn't know the how to say, only the what to say. I just looked at them and said, "Dad, Mom. I'm gay and I have been this way for years. This is who I am. I have openly accepted this, and I hope you can also." Mom appeared relieved, "Thank you for being honest with us. We were wondering when you would feel comfortable enough to tell us." Dad asked, "So Braden. Who's the lucky guy? Do you have one?" It was not the kind of reaction I was thinking of, but I went with it. "Takeru Kamiya." Since we traveled in different circles, they didn't know him. I sat with my parents and told them what I knew of him. They seemed to take a liking to him and wanted to meet him soon.
I tossed and turned in bed later that night. Why was sleep elusive? Dave's words prevented me from going to bed. The words were hateful, but I couldn't get the image of me bottoming for him out of my head. In my mind, I picture my naked body which I adored. Next to him, a slim naked male appeared. I had never seen Takeru naked, so my imagination guessed what he'd look like once his clothing was discarded. People would look at us and conclude that I was the top, and he was the bottom. My loins said, "Not so fast." I thought of me on top and fucking him. The imagery brough a slight buzz to my crotch. Him being dominant and me being submissive? My lust consumed it as if it was my favorite snack. That is what I craved. I yearned to bend over and offer my meaty ass to him. His dick might be smaller than mine, but I wanted it inside me. I picture that he makes up for his size with his boundless energy. Even if wasn't a firecracker in bed, I wanted to bottom for him. I kneaded my crotch, drunk on that vision of me on my back and him above me as Takeru thrusts into me. As he plows, he grunts in Japanese. I may not understand his words, but the intensifying pleasure is clear. Teeth clench and he fills me with his J-jizz. My eyes roll and my hardened cock throbs as it releases my cream which lands in the middle of my firm pecs. We collapse and I drape my arm around him. Dream self and dream boyfriend sleep. Real self finally falls asleep.
Takeru's parents had a different reaction because they didn't believe him. They attributed his reluctance around girls to a combination of natural shyness and wanting to focus on his studies. They reasoned that he just hadn't found the right girl yet. That changed once they met me because they saw the way we looked at each other and the way we held hands. They realized that they were wrong and apologized for their assumptions. They hugged their son and then they blindsided me when they pulled me into their hug.
As expected, Dave raised a fuss to his father. He didn't want to play on the same team as a gay guy or shower with one. He wanted his dad to put a stop to it. He heard the word, "No" for the first time in a long time. Maybe ever. Joseph Donner would not be interceding on this matter. Being a former football player himself, he recognized my talent. He knew that my absence would be detrimental to the team's prospect of winning the season and possibly claiming the state championship. He also forbade Dave from taking any action against me or Takeru. Disgruntled with no recourse, he stayed on because he didn't want to lose out on the opportunity to get a scholarship even though he didn't need one or forfeit the high profile of being of the captain of the football team.
Over the next several months, and as I entered my Senior year, my life changed for the better. Girls finally left me alone. They still ogled at me and my goods, but they stopped trying to get my attention and I stopped giving them fake reasons why I wasn't going to consider going on a date with any of them. Except for Dave, my relationship with my coach and teammates did not change even a bit.
My parents were right. I starting to go on dates like other teenage boys. It did not matter if my companion had the same plumbing as I did. Sometimes, these dates took the form of double dates with us two and either my parents or his parents. My teammates were wonderful and highly supportive. Coach Evans also. The only stickler was still Dave. He would make hushed lewd remarks about my attraction towards other men. The others made no similarly vulgar comments nor were they leery about being in the same locker room shower as me at the same time. They knew I was a professional and would never do anything inappropriate. They all knew it. Just not Dave. I wished Takeru was my teammate. On or off the field, he would be always my teammate.
The week before homecoming heralded the end of Dave's lordship over our team. I was upset because he had seen me with Takeru earlier that afternoon. We had sought a private place to make out and he deliberately followed us to our chosen sanctuary, a place off campus near Takeru's place. His scorn was nothing new. What had set him off was that I was clearly being submissive to Takeru. I remember the first time we touched each other. He assumed that he was going to be the submissive boyfriend and he accepted this. Imagine my surprise when he discovered that I was turned on more if I was the passive one. He took to his role as a fish to water and I surrendered to his domination, or rather domin-asian.
Here in what I thought was our oasis, Takeru commands me in Japanese and then translates what he had said, "Feel my body. Kiss my biceps." I listened and obeyed. He holds me as tight as possible and grips my ass while he drives his tongue into my mouth. Maybe my subconscious chose this role as penance for Dave's actions? My boyfriend mewls, "Nice plump American ass for me to play with."
We only broke off our pleasures when we heard Dave's sneering voice, "A jock being submissive to a dweeb like Twiggy is even more fucked up than two dudes getting it on. Yuck! At least if he was a stud like me, it wouldn't be as gross." We left and headed home as he half scolded, half laughed at us.
Over dinner, I presented a false cheerful face but that changed once I got to my room and had finished getting ready to go to bed. In the comfort of my room, I gripped my pillow and cried. Why must Dave be so cruel? We aren't hurting anyone. He is just a naturally horrible person. I knew that if he saw me now, he'd be rolling on the floor laughing at me. I wished something could be done. Was there any justice in this world? My phone pinged to let me know I got an email.
I reached over as I wiped my eyes. I didn't recognize the sender and it appeared to be nothing more than junk. The sender's email address was listed as erinyes@underworld.org. Beneath was [Subject: For those seeking justice]. I tapped on it anyway despite my misgivings. "From Three Moirai, the makers of Midas Touch 3000 and Lycaon's Beastly Side, we present LifeMix". Was this a type of sim game? I decided to download it because it might be a fun way to distract my mind from Dave.
The icon appeared on my phone, and I tapped on it. Right away, a little introductory video played, and it was very corny. It was like a parody of an infomercial. "Wish you had another hair color but don't want to keep paying for products?" A picture of a brunette woman tapping on her phone and her hair became blonde. She giggles with satisfaction. "Heading to Beijing for that critical meeting and want to wow your hosts?" A Black man presses a button and walks over to a Chinese businessman and starts fluently conversing in Mandarin Chinese. "With LifeMix, you can change any aspect of yourself or others. Just snap a picture or upload, then make your selections. Save your choices and enjoy."
So not a life simulation? I was going to delete the app, but I was drawn to try it out. It was an urge I couldn't quell. I tapped on the [Self] option and the program told me to take a selfie or upload a picture of myself. I had several of them, so I upload one. An image of myself appeared on the screen as well as all my stats both physical and mental. Everything I read on my profile was correct. What to change? The businessman clip came back to me. I scrolled through my profile until I found the languages tab. I tapped on that option and only English was highlighted, and it had a check mark next to it to indicate that it was my primary language. Beneath it were proficiency sliders for both verbal and print. They were both set to maximum fluency by default. I scrolled down the list of languages a bit until I came across Japanese. There was a further option to choose dialect. I recalled Takeru mentioning that his parents came from the Kansai area. This is for you Takeru. I selected both the Kansai dialect and the standard Tokyo dialect. I then moved the proficiency sliders to the right until they matched the same fluency levels as my English.
I exited the language tab and kept browsing. There were other options such as personality and hobbies. Anything else? I rubbed my arms and chest. I was satisfied with my face and physique. I looked down. I was fine with what I had down there. Six inches when erect with a nice set of nuts. I reviewed my choices and scrolled all the way down. There were two options. The first was [Save] and the second was [Save and Update]. I selected [Save and Update]. There was then another option. [Update Now?] and [Update Later?]. If I wanted to update later, I had to choose a date and time. I could even make it conditional. For example, next time it rains. I chose to update now because I wanted to find out right away if this was for real.
Nothing. Nothing happened. Just a gimmick to waste time. Fun gimmick though. I then felt something. I can't readily describe the feeling, but it was like an innate sense that something was arriving. I knew that something was going to happen very soon. That something then happened. I felt like I was a computer receiving an update. New knowledge entered my mind as Japanese words, phrases, and syntax uploaded into my brain. This is the Kansai way. This is the Tokyo way. I knew which was which. After about three minutes, the feeling went away. Knowing that the program was finished with updating my knowledge, I decided to try this out. I browsed articles written in Japanese and I had no difficulty in understanding them as I read them aloud in my newly acquired language. I looked at online videos and listened. No problem there either. I looked at my phone and browsed my texts to Takeru. They were all in Japanese and I understood everything. I called him and he responded right away. I consoled him, He replied, I answered, We wish each other good night. I opened the LifeMix app again. Time to finally kick David Donner off the team.
I could have made Dave a nice guy and I could have done that. Nope. The memories of him and all the horrible things he had said and done to me, my boyfriend, and my team had poisoned that prospect. The image of him in Eagles gear disgusted me and now that I had this incredible opportunity in my lap, I no longer had to put up with him being on the team.
On the main menu, beneath the [Self] option, there were two other options [Self and Other] and [Other and Other]. I picked the last. I uploaded a picture of Takeru and another of Dave. Their profiles came up, side by side. I knew what to do. I browed through their physical parameters and swapped their physiques. Takeru would now be six feet tall and muscular. Plus, his uncut cock would become a marvelous seven and quarter inch long when fully erect. Dave had constantly bragged how hung he was and how many girls he had been with. Dave would now be short and scrawny and have equipment considered below average.
I then moved on to mental parameters. I stripped Dave of all his football abilities and knowledge. Tough. He abused his gifts by being so vile. Now it was time to give them to someone more worthy. "Someone like my Takeru. My wonderful Takeru. He will be our quarterback." I reconsidered Dave's football knowledge. He would need something to occupy his time since he would no longer be on the team. I duplicated my boyfriend's new knowledge and excitement for football and gave Dave a copy of what he had originally been his. I then dumped knowledge and enthusiasm for all other sports into his profile to turn him into a sports junkie. He would now go through life knowing about a wide variety of sports but lack the physicality or the ability to play any. I reviewed the new settings and was satisfied. I can preview what they look like. Let me see Takeru 2.0. My jaw dropped and my dick rose. He was a gay boy's wet dream come true: J-Pop boyish good looks and nice athletic form.
I selected [Save and Update]. This was something I wanted to watch so I chose [Update Later?] It asked me to choose a date, time, and place. Seeing how the program would let me decide when and where the update would take place, I typed in specific instructions. When Takeru comes into our locker room on homecoming game day, that is when the swap was to take place. I set the phone to the side, turned off my lamp, and drifted to sleep. It was a wonderful slumber filled with dreams of the new Takeru.
I am in the locker room after winning our homecoming game. The raucous cheer of fans is so loud, we can here them from even here. Where are my teammates? Still outside? I fell a presence behind me. Arms wrap around my waist and coos, "Guess who." I recognized the voice, but it didn't match the hands or the torso behind me. I hesitantly guess, "Takeru?" The hands spin my around and there he is, but he was muscular. Not exactly the same guy I had known. He is in full gear, and he sets his helmet on the nearby bench. He pulls mine off and sets it next to his. He wraps his arms around me again and nudges his crotch into mine, cups rubbing against each other, and he leans forward to swirl his tongue in my mouth. He briefly lets go to caress my cheek, "You played fantastic out there. You are my homecoming king." I also sensuously stroke his face, "And I am yours. Now and forever." Back to the frenzied kissing.
We hear our teammates enter and they mischievously exclaim, "Look who's decided to start the festivities earlier." Takeru rubs the front of his pants and out teammates whoop, "Suck Tuck. Suck Tuck." He grins, "Might as well give them what they want." I grin back get on my knees to come face to face with his crotch. I press my face into it and nuzzle. He manipulates the fly of his football pants and lowers his supporter, "Time to visit the Tokyo Tower." The guys get closer and crowd around us as I get on my knees. I kiss his glans and open wide. I don't want to disappoint my boyfriend or our teammates, so I engulf more and more of his flesh until my nose meets his stringy pubes. He places his hands on my shoulder pads. He thrusts frenziedly into my mouth as if his life depended on it. I bob my head up and down as if my life depended on it. Takeru starts to grunt and his body shakes. He takes himself out of my mouth. He clutches my hair and wraps his hand around his boner to aim for my face. Quickly, a copious supply of Japanese cum coats my face. The team raises their hands and applaud, "Touchdown!"
A couple weeks later, it was the morning of our homecoming game. I looked at my watch. Just several more hours to go. In the school cafeteria, I sat with the rest of the team. Dave's spot was more of a professional courtesy, an act to keep up appearances that we were a team. Those teammates with girlfriends had them by their sides. I was no different because Takeru sat next to me. I looked at him and across the table at Dave. They had no idea what was in store for them. Shortly, they would be transformed, and they wouldn't know any life other than what I had chosen.
The rest of the day passed, and it ended with classes ending early with a pep rally in the auditorium. Afterwards, my teammates and headed to the locker room. Takeru followed us in, a familiar occurrence. Coach Evans had no problem with him being there because my boyfriend didn't get in the way. He would just sit on the bench and wait patiently while I suited up.
Takeru looks at me fondly as I pulled my jockstrap up my naked legs and then slid my cup in. I pulled up my pants and then my socks and cleats. I took my pads and pulled them over my head and secured them. My boyfriend picks my jersey up and hands it to me which I put on. That same preternatural sense of arrival approached. Here's your two-minute warning. Dave sneers in his usual way, "The way he's looking at you, I bet he's really hungry for a pre-game snack of sausage." I scoffed, "What do you care? You're not even on the team. You never were and you will never be." Dave rolled his eyes, "Yea right. You know how this goes. All it takes is a call to my dad and nothing will change. You know it. We all know it." Our scowling teammates started to crowd around. Somehow sensing his legitimacy could be in danger, he gets in my face and clutches my collar. He screams at me, "Who are you going to replace me with!" Pointing at my boyfriend and still screaming, "With him! With Twiggy!" I began to laugh at him, "Yes. Too bad your only good suggestion is your last. You're finished. You're out." Dave lets go, "He's nuts. Right guys? Guys?"
We looked at the rest of the ream as they spasmed as if they were glitched. The second hand of the clock is stuck, unable to got to the next second. Dave exclaimed, "What is this? What's going on?" He and Takeru tried to move, but their bodies refused to budge. All they could do was move their eyes and mouths. I let out a puff of air from my nostrils, "Can't you tell? You said it yourself a couple weeks back that it wouldn't be gross if my boyfriend was a stud like us. Just now, you mentioned him replacing you. That's coming true as reality is reformatting itself."
Takeru looked frightened and I look at him, "Don't worry. You're going to enjoy life as a hot jock. Awesome muscles, big juicy cock, boundless energy." Dave squeaked, "What's happening to me?" I lean against my locker to enjoy the show. I had always hated that my locker was across from Dave's and now it was the best seat in the house.
Streaks of eye black vanish from under Dave's eyes and reappear under Takeru's. I look at Dave's locker. Boyfriend and foe alike look at the jersey that rests inside. Each stitched letter on the back is replaced with another. D has become K, O has been replaced by the letter A, and so on until it now proudly displays the name of Kamiya instead of Donner. The letterman jacket, that mantle of high school nobility, succumbs to the same changes. The ribbon script unravels and then reforms to exhibit the name of Kamiya with the name of Takeru underneath.
The gear that Dave had put on so far and Takeru's clothes disappear in layers as of some great entity is moving a cursor and putting the garments off to the side until they are naked. Takeru is embarrassed and want to shield himself with his hands, but they remain stuck. The clothing that Dave had worn during the day disappear from the locker and reappear at his feet while my boyfriend's appear in the locker.
Dave's eternal smugness evaporates and is replaced with horror. He doesn't want to believe that this was happening, but he can't deny the truth. All his adored muscles from his pecs and biceps to glutes and abs to ass deflate as his shoulders and waist narrow. For every pound of muscle Dave lost, Takeru gained. For every inch of height that my beloved grew, our antagonist forfeited. I gazed lustfully at Takeru's body as his minimal musculature swelled to Dave's former proportions as his shoulders broaden. Dave shrinks until he becomes the height of 5'6" that Takeru used to be. Our new quarterback now stands at six feet tall. Looking good so far and I look between their legs. My boyfriend's junk swells not from arousal but by being naturally hung for the penis remains flaccid. His scrotum then begins to inflate to accommodate the plump nuts that now compliment that splendid piece of uncut J-meat. Dave's equipment shrinks into something significantly smaller, just five inches when hard.
Time for them to get dressed again. Jockstrap appears and covers his crotch, the hard curvature of the cup blinks back into existence. Shoulder pads drop down. Stockings and cleats arrive. Jersey vacates the locker and slips over his head. Unexpected by me, Takeru's hair grows out until it is shoulder-length. A hair band appears in the locker which testifies that he honors his samurai ancestors by sporting a similar hairstyle. As for Dave, the clothes he had worn earlier appear on his body. They are the same, but the sizes of his clothing are smaller to accommodate his reduced frame.
With the physical updates complete, only their knowledge remains unchanged. Not anymore. I could almost see everyone of Dave's abilities abandon him to seek refuge inside Takeru's brain until all he has left is knowledge and a passion for the sport which now Takeru shares. Knowledge and passion for other sports now fills the void in Dave's mind.
With the update complete enough, they are no longer immobilized. Takeru, newly minted jock, feels his arms and flexes. Full of innocent curiosity, he glides his fingers across those 16-inch bicep mounds. He still has the aura of timid shyness as he inspects the body that I took away from Dave. Takeru reaches down his back and he caresses the round masculine ass he now possessed. He looks at me with confused but happy eyes. I ask, "How do you feel?" He smiles, "Weird but in a good way." Downgraded Dave collapsed against the locker and weep bitterly, "I'll get you Braden McSwain. I'll get you." He leaps at me but Takeru steps in front of me. My boyfriend firmly and steadfastly dictates, "No." Dave bounces off and lands on his rear.
Unseen by us three, the change causes a ripple effect. Dave's new and expensive maroon truck surrenders his football decals to Takeru's slightly used forest green car. Trophies and other awards that celebrated Dave's prowess on the gridiron disappear from his room and reappear inside Takeru's to proclaim his name.
Dave tries to rush us again but midstride, reality resumes. The world begins anew. He has forgotten his past and all he is left that remains is the bitter feeling that although he knows a lot about football, he has neither the ability nor the physique to play. While all of us players look at him in disgust, he stands in the middle of the locker room and petulantly squeals, "I want to play! Football belongs to us straight American men!" I look at my boyfriend who looms over him with frustrated eyes, "Try to understand that you keep hounding me and Braden like we're criminals. Coach doesn't care who hooks up with girls or guys. What counts is ability and desire to play the game. Plus, good grades."
Our teammates all despised him because they only knew him as the wormy know-it-all who constantly snuck inside like he owned the place. Several scathingly mutter, "Davey, Davey." Takeru holds his hand up, "No. He's not worth it," and the others quiet. He looks at Dave, "I can ask Coach if you can be our waterboy if you're interested. The offer is still on the table." My former teammate flinches, "I don't need your pity! Don't pity me!" Coach Evans appears and orders him out, but he remains defiant. Predictably, he called his dad for help.
A new change as his father shouts for all of us to hear, "David Ulysses Donner! What have I told you about harassing those players! What have I told you about bothering our star quarterback and running back just because they are gay! I've spent good money supporting Sawyer High's excellent football program for years and I don't need you fucking things up! You get your ass home now!" The phone hangs up. Dave grows at all of us, gives us the finger, and he storms out the locker room cussing up a tempest.
Heated emotions cool as Coach gives us our pep talk. Takeru and I sit next to each other. As we listen to Mr. Evans intently, my fingers intertwine with my boyfriend's. His memories too have been altered. We all stand and hoot in a huddle, "Eagles!" Departing the locker room, we head down the hallway leading to the field. Listen to that raucous cheer. Takeru looks at me with love and I look at him as he tells me, "With me to the end?" I smile as we bump fists, "Forever and ever."
The announcer screams in jubilation, "And here are your Henry A. Sawyer Eagles!" We all rush forward as a united team and break through the large banner.
What unknown road will we traverse?
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I would appreciate any comments you may have, but please keep insults or flames to a minimum. I'll try to respond to everyone, but no promises. Please mention the title of the story so I know what you are referring to. You can email me at: chaoswolf04@yahoo.com.