Jocking Jude

 

Brock was the college bully. There is no sugarcoating it. He picked on popular kids, nerds, other bullies… I mean he was the cream of the crop. In his mind, he was the king of the campus. Unfortunately, the student body didn’t see it that way. In fact, when Homecoming king was announced, and it was Chase Dunham, he was pissed. Of course it was fucking Jude Dunham. That pretty boy comes out as gay to the school, and everybody suddenly likes him. ‘Oh you’re so strong they say..’ Pssh, Brock would have none of it. He wasn’t untouchable because he was cool, chill, and nice. He was a dweeb. Just like everyone else.

So, when thinking about how to plot his latest scheme, Brock was a bit of a dumbass and wandered out into traffic. He was struck and immediately killed. The school threw this big candlelight vigil with all these kids saying how sad they were that he was dead, crying on the 6 o’clock news. These are all kids he hated, and that hated him. But the worst of them all, was fucking Jude Dunham. He gets on the podium at the vigil and gives this long-ass speech about how Brock wasn’t a perfect human, or even nice in any remote way, but that he ‘Looked up to him’ as someone who achieved their goals. Bullshit. The worst thing was, he was telling the truth. That little fuck would always try and cozy up to Brock, trying to invite him out to parties n shit. He wasn’t into that whole fag thing, even if this kid wasn’t a queen. Jude, in reality never had that strong male figure, and craved interaction with it. In the literal sense, a bromance.

So, after the vigil, when the Student Government stayed to clean up, Brock hatched a plan. Jude was carrying boxes of flowers back into the storage building, all by himself. Slamming the heavy box down onto the cement floor, he sighed and picked up a flower. 

“Ahh, Brock. You were such a fuckin’ douche. But you’re gonna be missed.” He put the flower back into the box, and placed it on a metal shelf.

“Where do you think I’m going, faggot?” The familiar scratchy voice of Brock surrounded Jude in the cavernous room. He looked from left to right, up and down, searching for the source. Alas, he played it off as a joke. Until, blocking the exit to the building, was the ghostly apparition of Brock Hexler. His massive body diluted the moonlight coming in from the cracked door, until the door slammed on it’s own. Brock rushed Jude, and picked him up by the shirt. He threw him across the room against the shelves, landing on the dented metal like a ragdoll. 

Jude lay there, slumped and unable to even mutter. The pain was fairly substantial, but it was the ringing in his head that really threw him off. Brock used this as his chance. This was it.

“For years you’ve been trying to suck up to me, to pull me into all that gay shit, well I’ve had enough of your faggoty princess ass running around telling people I’m not a perfect guy.” Jude could only mutter and whine, before he felt being held by the shoulders and lifted once more, and pinned into the wall. Brock used all of his force and threw himself into Jude’s agape mouth, wriggling into him like an inflatable balloon. Jude felt little but pressure and fullness as he forced his clearly larger body inside of Jude. He felt every hard earned muscle of Brock’s force it’s way into his own, taking it over from the inside.

With all of Brock inside, Jude began convulsing and swinging himself all over the room, knocking over boxes and barrels and athletic equipment. Brock’s deep, malicious laughter echoed in the room, emanating from Jude’s bulbous belly. A pool of slime climbed it’s way into Jude’s mouth, tasting like pure salt and spoiled milk, forcing him to swallow it with a loud “bloomp!” 

Jude sat motionless for a minute, silently slumped against the wall. It didn’t take long though, for him to start giggling. Quiet at first, but slowly evolving into a full out cackle. Brock was in control. Jude’s formerly beautiful hazel eyes now glowed Brock’s dark blue. He rose up, and brushed himself off.

“Alright, faggy boy.” Brock took Jude to his car, still sitting in the college parking lot, and drove to Jude’s apartment. Taking his gym bag from his car, he walked up to the apartment and almost immediately hit the bathroom. He flung off his shirt, snapping a smirking selfie of Jude. 

Though it wasn’t uncommon to see the sexier side of Jude, it was to be posted on Facebook with the caption, “Suck my dick, boys. Come and get it!” He gleefully posted it, but immediately after, his eyes were drawn to the gym bag on the floor. Brock just brought it in out of habit, completely subconscious. He walked over to it and unzipped it. He took out his singlet and cup, taking a huge, deep breath. He passionately smelled his former stink, with a strange affinity for it he hadn’t before. 

“This is so fucking gay…” He muttered, but the more he inhaled, the more his demeanour changed. “So… Fucking… Gay… So… Good… Ughh…” He took out his wrestling shoes and slammed them on his face, inhaling the manly scent, developing a frenzied craving for it. “Maybe just one guy wouldn’t be so bad.”

Nowadays, Jude is still the most popular kid in school. Albeit, he is a bit different. He’s a cocky son of a bitch now, cracking jokes right and left, getting in to physical altercations, and aggressively hunting for boys to pound. They say he gives the hardest fuck you’ll ever experience.