Coach Jim had given me the MP3s to listen to, and I did listen to them, exactly as he had instructed. Every night I’d plug in my ear buds and fall asleep to the unusual rhythmic sounds. Sometimes the white noise would sound to me like a rain storm or the ocean. At other times it seemed like the cheers of thunderous applause from a stadium of fans.
He said it would gradually improve my performance.
It did seem like it was working. After only two weeks I found myself pushing harder and harder during practice. It seemed like I was more alert, more focused.
After four weeks, I found myself hitting the weight room a lot more often. It was weird though…I didn’t consciously decide to go more frequently. I would just sort of think about it later, usually after I finished working out. I’d leave the gym and think, “Gosh, didn’t I just do a heavy workout yesterday?”
After six weeks I started noticing that I’d wear my athletic gear just about everywhere. In the morning, or after my workout, I’d plan on wearing a polo shirt or sweater, but by time I was out the door I’d notice I had put on a football jersey over one of my tight fitting Under Armour shirts. Instead of jeans I’d find myself wearing sweat pants or work-out shorts.
Even more disturbing was that I would occasionally wake up in the morning wearing my football uniform. At first it was just my football pants, but as the weeks went on I started finding myself waking up with more and more gear on…my football girdle or rib pads. One Monday I awoke suited up in full uniform, including shoulder pads and helmet! I couldn’t figure it out… all of this gear had been stored in my locker down at the stadium.
And then there was the athletic cups. I had been issued one when I’d joined the team. Somehow over the past few months I had acquired over a dozen. I don’t know where they had come from…they always seemed to be around. I kept finding more of them in my gym bags, in my locker, and even with my books in my backpack.
I was always wearing one. It wasn’t like I was consciously deciding to put them on, or even aware most of the time I had one on. Instead I’d notice it when went to take a piss, or when I got undressed. I’d think to myself, “Why did I wear this?” But each and every time I got dressed I’d find myself wearing one again somehow. Even when I purposely took it off, I’d be out a short while later and realize I was wearing one again. I’d wonder, “Why did I put that back on?”
For whatever reason, they never seemed to end up in my laundry. They had developed a bit of an odor, since I was wearing them all day and night, when I was working out, and even when I went jogging with my buddies. There was a strong smell of “jock” that emanated from the dresser drawer that kept my collection, and it had spread to my gym bag. I sometimes noticed it and would think “I need to wash that stuff”, but I never seemed to get around to do it.
All this odd behavior began to bother me, maybe even embarrassed me a little, but I was afraid to say anything to anyone about it. I finally decided to ask Coach…I didn’t know what else to do. It wasn’t like this stuff was a problem…but I felt for some reason maybe he would have the answer.
For no particular reason I assumed he would be at his office, even though it was 8pm on a Wednesday night. When I arrived, I wasn’t alone. It seemed like half the team was milling about in the locker room waiting to chat with him. When he finally stepped out of his office, everyone got quiet.
He said nothing, but Cliff, the team captain, came out behind him from inside his office. Cliff was completely suited up in our home-game uniform. He carried his helmet like a bucket in front of him, and inside it was a collection of jock straps and athletic cups.
“Take one, sniff it, and pass it on.” he said.
One by one the guys started grabbing jocks and cups and inhaling deeply. Even toward the back of the locker room I caught a faint whiff of them, and I suddenly had a strong desire to smell it deeply…it was all that I wanted. As Cliff’s jocks and cups slowly started circulating around the room, the guys waiting for their turn started getting impatient. They pulled out their own cups from their bags or lockers and some took off their pants and shorts and pulled off their jocks and cups and began sniffing them and handing them around.
Each time I sniffed one it was more intoxicating. I couldn’t stop myself. Some were fresh and ripe, some were older, and required a deeper, longer breath. The scents were everywhere and every man had a different aroma. The sweaty smells mingled and mixed in the locker room. The only noise was the sound of long inhales and quiet grunts of pleasure.
And then, Coach Jim said, “It’s time to play, men.”
And then there was no conscious thought, just raw desire. Player pounced on player in an insane flurry of sweaty muscles and sexual energy. I found myself pushing my face into crotches. Some wore jocks, cups, or football pants, others were nude with hot, rock hard cocks waiting to be sucked.
Two linebackers, Jeff and Cory had grabbed some duct tape and were restraining a buddy of mine, Ken to the bench. Ken wasn’t struggling…by the looks of his hard cock he was enjoying it. As they taped him down the quarterback began sucking his cock. I pushed my way through the fray, I wanted to get taped down to the bench as well. Strong arms grabbed me and pulled me forward.
I don’t remember who’s a jock was stuffed into my mouth, or who duct-taped my mouth shut over it…Hell, I may have even done it myself. I don’t know who was sucking my cock, at one point, it might have been coach Jim? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that smell…I had to get more of it. It was everything.
And then, the next thing I knew we were all geared up and out on the football field under the lights, running drills, late into the night. I felt incredible.
I woke up the next morning in my bed, back in my dorm. For some reason, I was wearing my football uniform. The fabric and pads were still damp with sweat, there was a strong, familiar odor.
