Posted Wed Jan 3, 2018 | 357 Words | Tagged story jock

Finally found a picture to write a story up about that weird dream last year

I knew I shouldn’t have sneaked into the locker room, even though I thought the team had gone home. Turns out the coach had just decided to take the team into the gym first and then out onto the field. That had me running for the exit, and as fast as I could.

When they saw the second of me sniffing one of their jockstraps, they turned like a pack of bulls. Eyes full of rage. All I knew was I had to bolt for the exit and run as fast as I could.

When I got towards the fields, I realised I still had the jock in my hands. I don’t even know why, but I just stuffed it into my pocket. The jocks still making pace with me. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to make it.

The strangest thing was they already had a ball and were throwing it between them. Like as if this was some kind of drill, or some weird stuff the coach was telling them to do. The coach always was a little weird around you in the small interaction you had with him.

You trip, and instantly expect the jocks to be onto you. Yet you get back up and keep trying to run. Something’s slowing you down. You try and feel for the jockstrap, and it’s gone. You instead see bright yellow pants and a bulking green top on your body. Fuck, you’re in the full outfit for the team.

You get thrown the ball and instantly start running with it as part of the drill. Drill for coach. That sounded right didn’t it? Feeling your muscles work, pumping the blood through your body, through to your head where you could feel memories of playing for the team, working out, being a good dumb jock for coach.

And that you were wearing your lucky jockstrap which reeked full of your sweat from the hard work you pushed yourself through. The jockstrap you briefly remember being given to you by the coach.