Return of the Jockstrap

This is so hot, the freshman thought, as he peered around the corner of the locker room to watch the two massive linebackers making out. At least, he assumed they were linebackers. They were in the team area of the locker room and they were both easily north of 300 pounds, if their broad backsides and jiggling flesh were any indications.

The freshman, Joel, was just getting changed back into his size medium street clothes when he heard heavy footfalls in the row of lockers over, followed by the unmistakable sound of two sloppy lips making out. He turned the corner and was shocked and delighted at what he saw. He recognized Erick, the team’s’ offensive center, but the behemoth he was macking with didn’t ring a bell.

He was certainly hot though. He was at least as big as Erick - maybe even bigger - and certainly just as hairy, a thick pelt coating his back to run up and over his shoulders. When he inhaled and literally caused his pants to explode off him, Joel saw he was hairy everywhere else too, and especially on his massive rear, where between his cracks seemed a veritable forest.

That was also when Joel went from half mast to full, screaming hardon. When the guy Erick was groping seemed to shudder and moan Joel knew he’d just cum in his jockstrap, and he cursed himself for not having the presence of mind to capture the moment on his cellphone.

Joel reached into his pockets and realized his cell phone wasn’t there. He must have left it in the locker. He tried to quietly pad back to where he’d left his stuff, but rather than remain silent he stumbled over his own feet and slammed and open locker shut. He cursed himself again and grabbed his camera as quickly as he could, but by the time he returned the two linebackers were gone.

Sighing, Joel turned to leave but spotted something before he did. It was the jockstrap the big guy Erick had been making out with was wearing. It was still obviously wet with the guy’s cum and reeked of his BO, and Joel couldn’t imagine a sweeter smell. He huffed the jockstrap for a few moments before he realized he was standing in the middle of the locker room with a tent big enough to spot from space.

Sheepishly, he stuffed the jockstrap into his bag and headed straight back to his dorm room, skipping his afternoon classes.

As soon as Joel closed the door to his room he couldn’t wait any longer. He dropped his bag, took out the jockstrap, sniffed its heady scent, and immediately felt his cock harden in his pants. Five minutes later and he’d already cum once, using the jockstrap to wipe away the excess that dribbled down his 5-inch shaft.

The moment the stinking, soaked cotton touched his shaft it was like an electric jolt went through him. He became hard again, desperately so, using the jockstrap as a cock sleeve and running the soaked material over his aching pole until he came again, and then again, strangely feeling like he was cumming more with every load, and yet not a drop escaped the jockstrap’s cup. It was as though the thoroughly drenched material were drinking his ejaculations.

An hour later and finally Joel felt himself tire. He’d lost count how many times he’d cum. His room reeked of BO and jizz, just like the locker room had in the wake of Erick and that linebacker’s mack session, only amplified in the small dimensions of Joel’s dorm room.

He lay the jock on the bedside table where it made faint squishing sound, somehow giving the impression of satisfaction despite being a cum and sweat-soaked garment. Then Joel gathered up his clothes to head to the dorm cafeteria. All that jerkin’ seemed to have given him an appetite.

Half an hour later Joel practically waddled back to his dorm room having eaten more fast food than he’d ever before. The button on his size 30 jeans no longer closed as his belly bowed out in an obvious bulge.

But Joel didn’t arrive empty-handed. After having his fill in the cafeteria he’d made his way to the school store where he bought bag after bag of candy, chips, and packaged pastries. Once the door had closed behind him he immediately tore open a bag and began devouring its contents. Then he did it to a second, and then a third.

He hardly noticed the first tear in his jeans as his thighs ballooned to nearly twice there original size, nor did he notice his rounded belly surge out from beneath his t-shirt. All he knew was an endless cycle of food, then hunger, then satisfaction.

Hours later and Joel’s room had become covered in candy wrappers. At some point, he’d noticed his former boxers all around him in tatters, which prompted Joel to reach for the jockstrap to prevent complete nudity. The thought was ludicrous but somehow compelling. He drew the jockstrap up thighs far larger than he’d possessed earlier that day and placed the straps around his waist and beneath each ass cheek, letting the elastic material naturally sit in the grooves and creases of his body - grooves that hadn’t existed when he woke up that morning.

Strangest of all, the crusty material seemed to cup his package tightly, as though straining against the organ it not contained. It seemed impossible, given how Joel remembered the linebacker’s beefy body and enormous bulge filled the jockstrap to capacity, and he was hardly as big as that stud.

That logic seemed to quell the note of doubt that surfaced in Joel’s mind telling him things were not as they should be. So calmed, he flopped into his bed wearing nothing but the jockstrap and fell into a deep slumber. Joel never noticed how the elastic bands seemed to expand with him while he slept.