Go back

Speedo Jock Program

by Eumenes

Chapter 1

Speedo Jock Program

James was not doing too hot. He woke up that morning feeling like garbage. The alarm clock rang, his eyes struggled to open, and it felt, once again, like he had barely slept at all. He could already feel it – it was going to be just another one of those days. Feeling tired, unable to concentrate, as if he was in a fog, in a rut. He was in a rut. It was hard, however, at 29, to admit that thing we’re not working out. The last decade felt like a blur. University. Work. Study, work, study, work, with a few dash of socializing and friend in there. Now, he was working a boring job, with people he didn’t like, for barely enough to keep himself above water. He had read recently that working out could help break you out of the funk. He looked at his body in the bathroom mirror: Jesus Christ he must have gain some 30 pounds since he finished uni. Admittedly, and he knew this, he was not eating well and he spent most of his day in front of a computer. Computer at work, computer in the evening, computer at night. Everything was done by computer now. He resented this, but felt that he had no other options. He didn’t know any trades and he was not a manual labour guy. With his schedule at work, he barely had time to get to a gym in a timely manner. He tried. He had a membership and everything. He felt some guilt as he made his coffee about lacking the commitment to see it true. Even at the gym he was spinning his wheel. He didn’t really know what he was doing and he felt out of place. He tried to train from home instead, but again he couldn’t find the willpower to stick to a good morning routine. And he was tired… always so tired. Maybe it was the coffee, he thought, eyeing malignantly the black stuff macerating in his discount French press. Tiredness, anxiety, depression, a downward spiral of lethargy. Walking to work (one of his few concessions and attempt at regular physical exercise – one precipitated by not having cash for a car), he couldn’t help but look with envy at the pictures of muscular models plastered all over the street. Sure, it was nothing but capitalism selling him unreasonable physical ideals, but he could not help but wish that he could get himself into that kind of shape, if only for vanity, and a secret desire that it might help him find a girlfriend. Such thoughts sticked with him through the grind.


Returning him home, he was greeted at the door by a small pamphlet. Nothing unusual, but considering his earlier musing, this one felt almost providential. It was an add, featuring male and female athletes, proning the benefits of a new method of physical and mental development with, of course, guaranteed outcomes. Usually, James would let such pamphlets rot a few weeks on the table by the entrance before throwing it out in the recycle bin, but this time he kept it. Out of curiosity, he went on the website and, admittedly, it was rather different from other types of training routine.

The website sold packages. Training packages. Each conforming to specific archetypes and gears. Football. Baseball. Swimming. Triathlon. Volleyball. Wrestling. Body types and training programmes tailor-made for certain physical outcomes, depending on customer preferences. Each package came with training instructions, diet advice, sport specific underwear (jockstrap, compression shorts, speedos), and ipod pre-loaded with “visualization exercises and positive reinforcement affirmations”. James was dismissive at first, but after thinking a bit about it, came to the conclusion that perhaps what he needed was a program, some sort of framework that would make it less stressful and require less planning on his part. He ending up settling on the “Speedo Jock Program – Male” because the nearby YMCA had a gym and a pool, and that seemed like the best program to use what he had around.


The package arrived less than a week later. James emptied the material on his bed and grabbed the instructions. Pretty standard stuff, but then arrived at a section giving some rather odd details. First of all, he was not allowed to deviate from any of the rules set out in the section, lest it undo all his efforts. It further notes that this should no longer be an issue after about 2-3 days of listening to the files enclosed in the ipod. He would only be allowed to wear the provided speedos for the 12 weeks period of the program. And surely enough there were 12 speedos, 6 different types in pairs, that he would be able to rotate through. He would have to listen to the listed files, without fails, before going to bed and during the night. This was, according to the booklet, necessary to re-shape his mindset. He would also follow his workout and diet regimen to the letter – again, the booklet indicated that this should become natural by the third day. Odd, but whatever, James thought. He set aside the booklet, went to the supermarket and health store by bus, and picked up a membership at the YMCA on his way. He was all set now.

It was not without a smell sense of excitement that he donned one of the speedos. He had always had something of a fetish for swimwear, though he felt too ashamed to go to the pool with a pair on. The material was pleasant and silky – a high level of lycra – and to his pleasure, were not so tight. He put on the earbuds and started to play the playlist as he set himself in bed. As his body relaxed at the voice of the narrator, he couldn’t help but feel his dick get hard in his speedo. That was, however, the last thing he could remember as he lost consciousness. The next morning, he woke up with a throbbing morning wood and feeling incredibly horny. He nutted hard into the toilet before he could even take a shower and he felt a lingering sexual energy in his crotch the whole day at work, exacerbated by the speedos, reminding him constantly of their presence, the lycra even more supple from the heat of his crotch. After work came training, and he felt almost paranoid that someone would notice his boner as he worked at the machines. Fortunately, the speedo kept it nice and close to his body, but anyone looking could see that he was sporting a long hard bulge. He skipped the shower and went home, nutting in his shower. Why was his libido suddenly so turned up? Was it the food? The files? The speedo? Whatever it was, it wasn’t in the booklet.

The second day was a lot less sexually charged, leading James to think that it was a one off. Maybe it was some hormonal shift in his body or something. The third day was also fairly uneventful. After two weeks, however, he became somewhat apprehensive. While not as dramatic as the first day, he was feeling more and more horny. Weeks passed and he felt definitely like there was some change. He was feeling better. Stronger. More confident. Certainly more horny. It helped that the YMCA had a few cute girls training there too. And a few hot guys too. He couldn’t help but feel that the days were passing faster and that he seemed to be losing track of his time, of what he was doing at times.

He started to wonder about the content of the files he had received and began to listen to them without being under the effect of hypnosis. Some of the suggestions for one of the files took him aback.

Your brains are leaking down into your balls… into your balls… feel your thoughts turn into mush, turn into cum… churn all those negative emotions into cum…. More cum, more dumb, more dumb, more cum…. And you want to play with your cock, because you are a jock…a dumb horny jock… you want to have a big bulging body… and big bulging cock… and big bulging butt… all nice and tight into your sexy jock speedo… you build your body for pleasure… use it for pleasure….

After a nice and hard workout you will be nice and hard in your speedos… when you will be ready… you will have a nice and hard orgasm in your speedo and cum out all the remaining resistance to your training… then you will know… in your heart of heart… that you are a jock… a big, bulgy, horny and confident speedo jock…

James had not realized that as he was listening to the words he had let himself fall back into trance and he woke up with a start, now only clad in his swim briefs, feeling himself on the verge of cumming in his pair of blue speedos. “W-w-wait this isn’t what I wanted…!” he yelped as he grabbed his cock, as if stop it, but he could feel something drain from his head, which was now throbbing as hard as his cock… he could feel it flow down his spinal cord, into his pelvis, and flow into his balls and his cock, his organs now feeling larger and more engorged than they ever where, straining the fabric of the speedo, already drenched in precum. He barely had time to get out of his chair that he shot a geyser of cum through his speedo. Years of pent up frustration, of anger, anxiety, of needless thinking, of needless information and knowledge cluttering up his brain and stunting his instincts, flew out of him one orgasmic release. James had to grab on to his chair as his hips thrusted into the air, fucking some invisible hole as cum oozed out of the fabric and unto his stomach, legs and floor. He could feel a white hot heat in his body as he dropped his drenched speedo and double handed his cock, masturbating furiously, his mind lost in a frenzy of lust and he came a second time, sending a huge load across the floor. He breathed heavy, the effort having wracked his body and leaving him in the afterglow of the effort and flooding hormones.

He had been wrong, he thought, heading to washroom and starting the shower. He looked at himself in the mirror and it wasn’t the old James that looked back… it was the new James. He cracked a smile at himself, pinching one of his nipple before flexing his arms and admiring his cum covered body. He wasn’t quite there yet, but already you could see he was growing into an athletic swimmer’s body. “I totally wanted this… to be… a jock…”

And surely, after cleaning himself up and the little mess he had made, he went back to his room, donned a new speedo, put in his ear buds, and slid into bed, closing his eyes and listening to his training as he pitched a rock hard tent in his swim briefs.

Another success story.


Add a Comment