Absman420

story THE LUCKY JOCKSTRAP

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Absman420

Author's Note: I wrote this story in 2017 -- a little muscle-growth, a little mind-control, and some gear fetish -- my usual tropes. Enjoy

 

THE LUCKY JOCKSTRAP 
    By absman420 


“Gentlemen, it’s the last game of the season and you know what that means….” 

The boys did.  Collectively eager sighs all around. Some of them murmured “lucky jockstrap” under their breath, hoping it would be them this year. Toby sat on the bench in front of his locker, shaking his head slightly -- he’d heard the rumors, but he thought they were ridiculous. There was no possible way… 

The Coach chuckled, his thick, muscular frame flexing as he leaned against the row of lockers. “That’s right,” he said, adjusting his own package as he spoke. “One of you boys is getting the chance of a lifetime! And with all the scouts out there looking at Goldy, you might get a free ride someplace yourself!” 

All of them -- Toby included -- glanced at Robbie Goldman, who was already dressed in his jockstrap and hip pads, slowly sliding his game pants up his muscular thighs. He was fucking gorgeous, built and handsome, his self-confidence radiating with the kind of casualness only possessed by the kind of guys who’d never suffered, who’d never known opposition, who’d never even had a zit. Toby hated the mother-fucker, the big muscles, the movie-star looks, the big cock that he showed off with pride in the shower. It just wasn’t fair. 

When he noticed them all looking, Goldy flexed his abs hard, all the grooved lines leading the eye to his big jock bulge. He winked and blew them a kiss. Most of the boys laughed -- not Toby. 

The Coach still had a smirk on his face -- he looked at Goldy like the boy could do no wrong. He was so obvious about it. “So suit up, boys!” he said, righting his stance to be on both feet. “One of you is about to have a helluva game!” 

Stuff and nonsense, Toby thought as the Coach left the locker room, glad-handing boys on the back and laughing with them. The pre-game excitement was nothing compared to the speculation over who would win the Lucky Jockstrap. 

“I think it’s bullshit,” said Eddie Brannigan at the locker next to Toby as he slid off his boxer shorts. 

“Agreed,” said Toby, pulling off his school shirt and stuffing it in his locker. 

“What chance would we have of winning, anyway, even if it WAS real?” Eddie bitched, picking the new, clean jockstrap left in his locker and examining it before his slid it on. “They’d just give it to one of the starters, the popular fuckers…” 

“Probably that douchebag Goldman already has it on,” Toby said, taking the jockstrap left for him off the hook in his locker. 

And then, as if he’d heard them, Robbie Goldman was standing right next to them, in his game pants and the t-shirt he wore under his pads, ripped to expose his entire, glorious core. “Did I just hear my name?” he asked, ever flexing. He saw the jockstrap in Toby’s hand and nodded toward it. “Think that might be the lucky one?” 

Toby barked a laugh. 

“Well, why not? Could be anybody.” 

“My guess would be you,” Toby said, pulling the jockstrap on and adjusting himself in it. “Coach has a fucking hard-on for you, anyway. Why not give your Gold Star some magical, Lucky Jockstrap?” 

Instead of taking his bait, Goldy shrugged -- his attitude dripped of the kind of casualness only produced by the most arrogant. “Cuz I won it last year,” he said, making his way back to his locker, “and I doubt I’d get it two years in a row. Like you could improve on this.” He motioned to his crotch. “Good luck, bitches.” With that, he grabbed his shoulder pads and jersey and headed toward the training room, muscular poetry in motion. 

“‘Like you could improve on this,’” Eddie mumbled under his breath as he belted his game pants. 

“I hate that fucker,” Toby said, stepping into his own pads. “I swear to God, I wish there WERE some kind of magic jockstrap that could make me big enough to pop that pretty-boy ass-wipe upside the head! I would fucking love that!” As he pulled his pants up and belted them, he didn’t notice his jockstrap feeling any different than any other jockstrap he’d worn in his life. 

He laughed to himself -- magic jockstraps! Obviously, the Coach was doing some weird, motivational thing with the team on this, the last game of the season. Maybe if they thought they were wearing a magic jock, they’d play harder or something. It was obviously a joke that had become an urban legend, thought Toby. Or maybe it was some elaborate prank on the New Kid in School -- he wouldn’t put it past this bunch of assholes. Even as a senior, maybe because he was a senior, nobody had made this new school feel like home to him -- they were all busy looking forward to college -- they didn’t have time. 

Toby looked forward to college, too.  Sure, it meant starting over -- again! -- but this time, it wouldn’t be just him. EVERYBODY was a naive freshman. And he’d already gotten early acceptance to his Ivy-League favorite, so it wasn’t like he was worried. Just gotta get through senior year, shitty as it might be. 

He and Eddie grabbed their shoulder pads and headed their skinny asses to the training room along with the other boys -- all of them secretly wishing they were wearing the Lucky Jockstrap, whether they believed it was true or not. 

*********************************************** 

Things started getting weird for Toby during the very first play of the game -- the freakin’ punt return! He was a third -- or fourth -- string receiver, which automatically put him on special teams. He and Eddie were deep in the back and though the punt was clearly headed in Eddie’s direction, he didn’t signal a fair catch -- it was almost like he didn’t see the ball at all. 

Toby watched the ball smack Eddie clearly in the facemask, where it bounced clumsily toward him. Surprising himself, Toby caught the ball before it hit the ground and with a little twist, started running toward the opposite goal. He felt really good, easily going fifteen yards before meeting the defense -- this would be one his best return stats ever! Then, to his surprise, he passed the defenders like they weren’t even there. It seemed odd to him that such big guys moved so slowly -- he dodged them easily, almost reading their bodies and feeling their moves before they made them. 

He was open-running now, striding like a gazelle, feeling the strength of his hamstrings and glutes -- he felt so open and free, light and powerful. He could feel a defender approaching him from the rear, so like a rabbit, he changed his trajectory. The boy following him fell to the ground empty-handed just as Toby crossed the goal-line. Touchdown. 

He’d just scored a touchdown. 

He couldn’t believe it -- he wasn’t even breathing hard. He’d just scored a touchdown on the first freakin’ punt-return of the game! 

Maybe he was wearing the Lucky Jockstrap. 

And before he had time to laugh at his own thought, his team was upon him, cheering and smacking his helmet and his ass. “Where you been hiding those moves?” “Fuckin’ made them look like chumps!” “It’s gotta be the jockstrap!” 

That made someone laugh in the way of high school boys and fart jokes. “Yeah,” someone repeated. “Gotta be the jockstrap!” Then they all started in, laughing and picking at his ass. Toby, who’d never been the center of good-natured intention before, was flying high, though his own innate cynicism kept trying to rear its ugly head. He really wanted to believe that there might be some Lucky Jockstrap -- and that for some reason, HE’D been lucky enough to get it. 

He’d gotten the tiniest bit of wood at the thought -- his dick plumped up a little anyway -- but he kind of liked the way it felt, so it didn’t bother him. It made him feel kind of alpha male. 

Even the Coach patted his ass. “Good job, Toby. How’d that feel?” 

Toby laughed. “Surprisingly easy,” he said. “When can I go out again?” 

“I like your hunger,” the Coach said, “but I’m saving you. I got plans for you later.” With that, the Coach was back in the game, yelling as their punter kicked the point after. 

For the rest of the game, Toby wondered if he was the one. Other players were having good games, too. But every time Toby found himself on the field, he moved with strength and ease and an awareness of his body in space that he’d never felt before. He’d always been a nerd who played football because his dad made him, but now, in his last game of his senior year, he was finding a love for the game he’d never had before. 

And his jockstrap -- lucky or not -- felt great on his half-hard dick. 

It came down to the last play of the game. They were behind by a field-goal, but it was fourth down and too far to kick. Hail Mary. 

Coach put Toby in -- hell, ALL the receivers were in. “I need you to run, boy,” he said, as Toby, with a strange sense of confidence, trotted out to the huddle. 

The snap -- everybody went in motion. Like before, Toby suddenly felt like he was the only one moving in real time -- all the other players seemed to be moving slowly. It took no effort to dodge them, pass them, leave them behind. And then the strangest sensation of all -- he became aware of the ball, descending above and behind him -- he could feel its arc. 

And even with defenders on his tail and others crowding the endzone, Toby knew the exact right moment to break his run and leap, turning just enough for Goldy’s pass to land perfectly in his arms, like he knew it would -- right on the numbers. Picture perfect. 

He came down in the endzone -- touchdown! First and last touchdowns of the game, he laughed to himself. That’s when he knew he had the Lucky Jockstrap. Toby, a mediocre player at best, just scored the game-winning touchdown on the last game of his senior year -- if that wasn’t the definition of Lucky Jockstrap, he didn’t know what was! 

Why wouldn’t he get a hard on? 

His teammates were upon him, cheering and smacking him and lifting him off the ground. He even had this strange moment when Goldy ran up to him, hugging him close. “You caught it” he yelled happily. “You fucking caught that pass like you knew it was there!” 

“I did!” Toby replied, just as giddy. “I could feel it!” 

Goldy started banging their helmeted heads together. “You got the jock!” he yelled, and Toby could feel the start of Goldy’s erection pressing into his own. It was a fucking moment. 

The cheers and horseplay followed him all the way to the locker room -- the energy of the win had the boys at a fever pitch. Eddie danced around him like a puppy off the leash! “That was fuckin’ amazing!  You were fuckin’ amazing! Gotta be the jock!” Toby had barely gotten his shoulder pads off when the Coach yelled, “Toby!” from his office door. “Toby,” he bass rumbled, an ear-to-ear smile, “get your ass in here!” 

A big, jealous grin from Eddie started him off. The boys cat-called him and slapped his ass as he made his way down the aisle toward the coach’s office -- it was the first time he ever felt part of the team! He was lucky -- jockstrap or not. 

The Coach closed the door behind them, cutting off most of the noise from the locker room -- he sat his muscular form on the edge of his desk, looking at Toby with a smile on his face. Toby stood there in his game pants and the sweaty t-shirt he’d worn beneath his pads and he felt kind of weird -- what was this all about? 

“How do you feel?” Coach asked, his thick, muscular arms crossed in front of his chest. 

“Pretty fucking great!” Toby said. “You know, for a guy who just scored the game-winning touchdown!” 

Coach chuckled.  “Must be the jockstrap.” 

Toby smiled -- his dick still half-hard. He shrugged. “Must be.” 

“Let’s find out,” the Coach said, shifting his weight. “Take your shirt off.” 

And even though Toby said, “What?” he immediately found himself pulling his t-shirt over his head. 

“Flex for me. Let me see those abs.” 

Toby was more than a little confused when he put his hands behind his head and flexed his abs for the Coach. First, he was confused that he was doing it at all, and then second, he was confused as to where his abs had suddenly come from. What a rack! A tight, lumpy eight pack with deep grooves and separations -- an Adonis belt showing an obvious “V” leading into the front of his game pants. He turned to display his obliques -- why was he doing this? 

“What’s happening?” he asked, voice wavering, panicking -- not that that stopped him from flexing. 

The Coach smiled. “Relax, Toby. Don’t panic. You love flexing for me -- it turns you on.” 

That’s for sure, Toby thought, squeezing his abs tight and twisting his hip. If the old man wants to look, let him see. Toby’s cock thickened a little, kind of obvious itself. 

“Nice,” Coach said. “Lose the pants.” 

Toby undid the belt and the lace-front pants, then slid his thumbs behind the waistband, about to shove everything down, leaving himself naked, when the Coach said, “No, no. Leave the jock on. Never take off the jock.” 

And then he was standing there in front of the Coach in only his jockstrap, his half-hard cock obvious in its cotton mesh pouch. Toby calmly said, “I don’t understand what’s going on.” 

The Coach eyed him up and down, like he was a piece of meat, then made a motion for Toby to turn around. He obeyed, but he didn’t know why. “Very nice,” the Coach said. “You’ve gained some good size in your legs and ass. I’ll still need you to be bigger, though.” 

Bigger, Toby thought. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll get bigger.” And when he did, his cock twitched -- pleasure. He was so confused. “Tell me what’s going on. Please.” 

“Hold on a second,” the Coach said and sauntered over to the locker room door, his own massive legs swinging around each other. “Goldman!” he hollered, head through the door. “Get your ass in here!” Toby could hear the other boys laughing and joking to themselves, probably getting ready for showers. He wasn’t able to call out to them -- he just stood there, waiting. 

Goldy entered the office, wearing only his jockstrap and carrying a towel. “What’s up, Coach?” he asked, making quick eye-contact with Toby and smirking. “How’s our lucky winner?” 

“Flex for us, would you, Goldy?” Coach said. “Toby needs something to look at as I explain things to him. You don’t need to pay attention to us -- just focus on flexing.” 

“You got it, Coach!” Goldy said, immediately beginning his routine, flexing his abs -- his cock sprang to life in his jockstrap, beginning to stretch the pouch. Even Toby could see the guy had a big cock. He seemed to be really into posing. 

“You know Goldy’s going to State next year, full ride.” Toby DID know that, but when he turned to acknowledge the Coach, the Coach said, “Keep your eye on Goldy. Look at that incredible body.” 

Toby shifted his eyes back to the quarterback -- Goldy DID have an incredible body, so ripped and muscular. He didn’t mind watching while the Coach spoke. 

“Goldy’s gonna be a superstar there -- probably get drafted early -- as long as he stays focused on his game. That’s where you come in. Tell me, what do you think of him? Tell me the truth.” 

Toby watched the boy pose and flex, a vapid smile on the quarterback’s face. “I think he’s a douchebag,” Toby said calmly. A douchebag with an incredible body. 

“I can imagine,” the Coach said. “He’s a winning quarterback going full ride to State, and the pros beyond that, an incredible body, he’s gorgeous. And look at that fuckin’ cock. Imagine having a cock like that…” 

Toby looked at Goldman’s cock -- lucky bastard. 

“I can understand why you’d be jealous.” 

Jealous? thought Toby. Was he jealous? Is THAT what he’d been feeling? It must have been -- everything the Coach said was so TRUE. Had he let petty jealousy get in the way of appreciating Goldy for what he really was? That made so much sense. 

“In fact,” Coach said, “I think it would do you a lot of good to admit how you really feel, how you recognize Goldy’s natural superiority and wish that it could be you.” 

Toby had tears in his eyes. “It’s true!” he said, as if he were confessing. Why had it been so hard? “It’s not him -- it’s ME! I was so jealous I pushed all that negative shit on him when it was ME who was fucked up. He’s gorgeous! He’s perfect! He’s EVERYTHING! And I’m just some petty, jealous mother-fucker who’ll never be that lucky.” 

Goldy just kept flexing, oblivious to it all, a self-loving smirk on his face. 

“Feels good to get it out, doesn’t it?” 

And Toby did feel good, a wave of peace and ease overtook him. Everything was so clear. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve wasted so much energy hating him.” 

“Well, you can make it up to him. Goldy’s going to State next Fall and I need him to be focused on football, not worrying about homework and papers and grades -- that’s the stuff you like.” 

That was true, thought Toby. While Goldy may have been his physical superior, Toby was the brains of the outfit -- he was going Ivy League, after all. “But I’m not going to State,” Toby said. “I’ve been pre-accepted to…” 

“State,” said the Coach, interrupting him. “I just got you recruited to State. That’s why I put you in the Lucky Jockstrap, so the recruiter would see you making some sweet moves and snap you up. Now you can have Goldy’s back -- he can focus on football and training and you can take care of all the bullshit, the papers and the homework. Isn’t that awesome?” 

A smile crossed Toby’s face. It WAS awesome! It would be so much easier for Goldy if he didn’t have to get bogged down with all the stuff that Toby was so good at. Of course Toby would go to State if it meant he could help Goldy .The Coach had thought of everything. 

“One more thing,” the Coach said. “I need Goldy focused on football and training, not dealing with some sexual assault case or accidental pregnancy -- I don’t need girls fucking up the picture -- so there’s something else you can help out with.” 

“Wait a minute,” Toby said, calmly watching Goldy flex his magnificent body, “I’m not gay.” 

“I don’t care,” Coach said, sounding a little annoyed. “You kids and your labels. I don’t give a shit what you call yourself. My boy has needs -- you’re there to satisfy them so he can stay focused on the shit that matters: football and training.” 

“But I don’t want…” 

“Yes, you do. Now be quiet and drop to your knees.” 

Toby obeyed, kneeling in front of Goldy, the muscular quarterback’s sweaty jockstrap pouch right in his face, inches away from his mouth. He was repulsed.. 

“Look at that package,” Coach roughly whispered, squatting down next to Toby. “Look how full, how masculine.” 

Toby had to admit, whether it was gay or not, Goldy had a beautiful package -- he filled that jockstrap so fully. So masculine.

“And look at his cock,” Coach continued. “Look how much he likes posing for us, how he gets off on it. Look how his cock gets thicker and more beautiful as it grows there in the pouch. It’s an amazing cock.” 

“It’s an amazing cock,” Toby agreed, and his own cock started to get hard in his own jockstrap. 

“Get in there close,” Coach said. “Smell his scent -- get to know it.” 

Toby did -- his nose was buried in Goldy’s sweaty jockstrap. He could feel Goldy’s amazing cock hardening against his face. 

“Kiss it,” Coach said. “Kiss that amazing cock.” 

Toby found himself kissing it, licking it, soaking the jockstrap in his spit. He couldn’t get enough. Goldy’s cock was rock-hard, straining the cotton webbing of the pouch to the max. Toby had never wanted anything so bad. 

“Feels like you’re ready,” Coach said. “Why don’t you take it out and suck it? Really pleasure him -- the way he deserves. It’s what you want.” 

He did -- Toby wanted it. He needed it. Frantically, he pulled the waist strap down and Goldy’s big, beautiful cock flopped out. Gorgeous. It was fucking gorgeous. As perfect as Goldy himself. Toby nearly gagged, it was so big and he was so anxious. Goldy moaned and Toby realized it was from the pleasure Toby was giving him -- that turned him on even more!   

Coach’s voice faded into the background as Toby worked Goldy’s cock -- he knew Coach was talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t care. All that mattered was Goldy’s cock.. Amazing. He’d never felt anything like it -- never even considered it -- taking a man’s cock in his mouth, feeling it push itself against the roof of his mouth, the taste of his sweat and pre-cum. Giving pleasure gave him so much pleasure himself -- wave after wave coursed through him, reinforcing his desire. Nothing mattered but this -- nothing mattered but serving Robbie Goldman. Toby would do anything for him. Anything. He lost track of time as he sucked and Coach told him what he needed to know -- how he needed to feel. 

When Goldy came in his mouth, filling it with his salty ambrosia, Toby came himself, soaking his jockstrap in cum -- but he ignored it. He was too busy swallowing every bit of Goldy’s -- there was nothing better. No reward more fulfilling. And he wanted more. 

He was so lucky. 

************************************************** 

Nine months later. State University -- the athletic dorm. 

The morning sun shines through the slits in the blinds, highlighting the sleeping muscular jock in striped shadows. His morning wood is quite obvious beneath the thin cotton sheets. From the darkness of the other bed, a heavily muscled young man carefully turns his alarm clock off before it rings and gingerly crawls across the floor toward the sleeping jock. 

Kneeling beside the bed, he carefully lifts the sheet away, exposing the jock’s glorious cock, rock hard and thickly lying across the jock’s hip. Without hesitation, he takes the jock’s cock in his mouth, gently sucking the jock awake.The jock orgasms in that moment, filling the heavily muscled young man’s mouth with his salty cum -- the first of many today. 

The jock has been awake for a while, but he doesn’t open his eyes or move until after he’s orgasmed. Then he casually wraps his hand around the heavily muscled young man’s head and affectionately pushes him off his cock. “Thanks, Toby,” he says quietly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “That’s how I like to start my day.” 

The heavily muscled young man takes the compliment and a shudder of pleasure runs through him. “As if I could resist a chance at that cock,” Toby says, standing up and adjusting his own morning wood in the jockstrap he never takes off -- his Lucky Jock. 

“What do you weigh now?” Goldy asks, lounging in bed, studying Toby as Toby brings him his coffee. 

“I was 238 at weigh-in yesterday,” Toby says, flexing seductively. “I’m getting there, aren’t I?” 

Goldy smiles over the brim of his coffee cup. “You know I like ‘em big.” 

Toby has already become too big to be an effective receiver, so they’ve made him a tight end, which Goldy thinks is hysterical. Toby’s new-found muscle size is more useful in that position -- and it allows him to train with abandon. Goldy likes a training partner who pushes him in the weight room -- and it adds to the illusion of their relationship. 

“I’ll get as big as you want,” Toby says, flexing his arms in a double bi. “I love being big!” 

“You love being anything I want,” Goldy says, chuckling to himself. “It’s too perfect!” 

“You deserve it,” Toby says, earnestly, kneeling at the foot of Goldy’s bed. “You need to focus on football and training. I’m happy to take care of anything else. Anything -- I’m so lucky!” 

“Did you get my English paper done?” 

“Of course. I also took two of your online midterms. I’m finishing your pottery project after practice.” 

“Cool,” Goldy says, rubbing Toby’s head like a dog,  which makes a shiver of pleasure run through Toby. “Let’s go get some breakfast at the union and then hit the gym. I feel like pumping some chest this morning.” 

“You got it!” Toby says, jumping up to get changed as Goldy takes a piss in the bathroom. 

“You seen my yellow compression shirt?” 

“I did your laundry yesterday -- it’s folded and in the drawer.” 

“Damn,” Goldy says, coming out of the bathroom, grabbing at his crotch. “Someone’s looking to get fucked, isn’t he?” 

Toby laughs quietly ducking his head, sliding shorts on over his jockstrap as Goldy puts on compression pants. ”I only want to please you.” 

Goldy pats Toby’s butt. “Your ass in that jockstrap pleases me.” 

Some of the guys made fun of Toby because he never takes off his jockstrap, but he waves them off. “This jock changed my life!” he says. “The first time I put it on, I got a touchdown on a kickoff return and then the winning touchdown in the same game! I swore then that if we kept winning, I’d leave it on! It’s lucky, I tell you. It’s my Lucky Jockstrap!”

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bunkyboo93

Hot damn. That was a good read, Absman. Is this the first time you've posted this one? I don't remember reading it back in 2017 -- and this is definitely the type of story I get into. The hot epilogue is my favorite part. What college life must be like for Toby and Goldy!

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svrt589

Any chance you could remove the fomatting? I'm sure it's a good read, but because of the font colors it's painful to read in dark mode on this site ?

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Jbn345

I hope you continue this series!

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Absman420
On 6/25/2018 at 8:36 PM, bunkyboo93 said:

That was a good read, Absman. Is this the first time you've posted this one? I don't remember reading it back in 2017 -- and this is definitely the type of story I get into. The hot epilogue is my favorite part. What college life must be like for Toby and Goldy!

I posted this on the gayspiralstories site and it had a luke-warm reception. Most people felt sorry for Toby and I was like, "it's a mind-control story. What other ending could there have been?" 

Initially, I wasn't going to have the epilogue, but then the story didn't feel complete without knowing. The more I wrote dialogue for Goldy, the more I enjoyed it. Glad you liked it, too! 

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Absman420
On 6/25/2018 at 8:38 PM, svrt589 said:

Any chance you could remove the fomatting? I'm sure it's a good read, but because of the font colors it's painful to read in dark mode on this site ?

Unfortunately, no. Although the good news is, I learned how to change from rich text to plain text on subsequent postings! I wasn't able to alter the property of the text in edit mode. But if you squint just right, the story is still good.

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hugejock

Damn, I loved this one.  It hit a lot of my buttons!

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1996bodybuilder

Hope there is a continuation 

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