Well, I've gotten a lot of support from the last journal entry. A couple of you find it hot, which is flattering. One of you(you know who you are) sent me a p.m. which gave me real hope for The Third Option, but more on that later. And the rest of you are giving me the same look men in lab coats give rats in mazes; that's not a criticism, mind, just an observation. ;) But on with the news.

Readers who've been with me from the beginning will recall that I was originally, and still am, a Transformation Fetishist, and that what tipped me off to the Jock files having a real effect was still wanting to be a jock after I got off. A fact which gets mildly irksome when The Jock comes out and still wants to play, even though I have geek things to do.
I have discovered a solution, which admittedly requires some time: edging. The Jock, afterwards, is exhausted and promptly falls asleep, satisfying narrative convention nicely. It's whats allowing me to wield some serious sesquipedalian loquaciousness up in this bitch. Mind you, I feel like *I'm* going to pass out in a minute, but damn if I'm not happy about it either way. :P

Today, of course, was Sunday, my Geek Day, on account of Dungeons and Dragons.
(Currently playing a cleric of a family of small gods; the father god and the mother goddess were reunited this session. I mention all that because for most of the session, I couldn't use spells for shit because my gods where busy getting it on. And then my character's baby daughter was born in the second half of the session. Pie Jesu, what has it come to that my fictional creations Get Some before I do?)
A friend of mine from the campaign is going to help me get a job at a local dollar store(Fred's, if anyone's familiar with that franchise) as a stock boy, which is good because I Am Broke. Flatly. And as I've mentioned, becoming a jock is EXPENSIVE. First purchase after getting a paycheck? Some weights, followed by more jockstraps.(Ok, actual first purchase will probably be Netflix. But, hey, a man's gotta be entertained.)
As a follow up to 'The Jock's cock is bigger than mine', today I heard nothing from The Jock till I got back home in the late evening, and I had no trouble with Little Aelfreich trying to escape the boxers all day, and it remained flaccid. Soon as I get halfway down the lane to my house? *pop!* Out it comes, and I have to readjust. My inner scientist, at least, is pleased with the confirmed hypothesis.
Back to The Jock, last night I woke up in the middle of the night with a need to masturbate; not all that uncommon. I was talking to myself, fantasizing, per usual when I know that no one is likely to hear me. I was actually about half-way done when I realized that, yes, I'm talking to 'myself'. Myself, as in Me, and the one doing the talking is the Jock. He/I(multiple personas: the only thing more dangerous to pronouns is Time Travel) was gloating, yes GLOATING, about how dumb I was becoming, about how it was HIS dick; he said all the geek in me was getting stuck in the cum and shot out, and about then was when I/He came. Now, the "geekiness converted into cum and shot out", I know where he got that; it's from one of the interactive stories on Choose Your Own Change(which appears to be down right now, sadly), where a bunch of jocks catch a geek and, well, guess.
What disturbs(a smidgen) and arouses(quite a bit) me is that I sat there having a conversation with myself, bullying myself as The Jock, and got off on it. Incidentally: talking to yourself=Not Crazy, talking to yourself AND answering back=pending membership in the Straightjacket Enthusiasts Club. Joy.


Final Note: What I said about that p.m. that gave me hope for a Third Option? I'd like to really thank the person who sent it. It's nice to know that my goal, or one similar, HAS been reached. Thanks, bro, and Long Live The TARDIS. Incidentally, why don't you just get one of those portable TVs that can pick up BBC or BBCAmerica? Then you can workout AND watch The Doctor be awesome.