“LAPS! STAT!”
With Raiden now being a huge lead in the College’s Soccer team, their prized striker needs a lot of changes to his entire ensemble. Not only was he tasked onto MANlifying the whole business block, but as for those pathetic soccer rivals who barely knew a thing about kicking balls-pathetic.
Overseas-that is what the college is known for. Variety of characters from different nations coming together to fend off the faggots in America, just like the teachers in his buddy Joel’s course. Thank God there ain’t no fags in Mu Alpha Nu.
Running around the laps this early morning, his bro still asleep being the lazy fucker he is. Jogging and pumping the blood into those strong muscular calves of his. Itching to kick some balls specially due to how the world cup turned out.
The star striker of MAN, most of the frats picking out other sports, excellent at em just as he and his team were unstoppable, too bad indeed, for the curse is going to get Raiden to meet his match pretty soon.
Coming from a nearby University, someone that will truly challenge this MAN jock and his arrogant frat boy ways. Someone who challenges his overwhelming arrogance and Pride without hesitation.
Coming from the nation of France.
————————
Walking down the hallways was a 22 year old man who came all the way from said nation. Across the globe was an average sized male, around 5'7 considering he was about the size of the non-transformed victims of the heterosexual curse.
Toby Rosiana, that is his name.
Pre-planned and pre destined to come, as he was actually supposed to meet a certain gay boy as a surprise visit. Application successful, his final year internship program at the nearby University will last for months. Thankfully too, he always respected America despite the recent bad news and wild spread drama.
Short brown hair and brown eyes, Clean shaven jaw. An average French head whose modestly walking down the pathway in a grey wooly sweater considering his thin petite frame, his legs were incredibly speedy-though he was not one to show off as they were concealed beneath a pair of jeans and sneakers. A bit why he almost considered joining soccer...but only just for the sweet ass, he HATED sports-although, maybe he would have gone pro an alternate universe?
HAH! Maybe when he turns straight!
A cutie, yes, though he and his American buddy Eiden preferred those big brash men who are super arrogant and contrary to him. In fact-he could spot one now, asian-tanned and handsome, really tall...with a splendid hair doo as well as he came by this way.
‘Damn those calves’ The French gay boi thought, long blood red socks expressing its tonality. Admiring bottom up as he noticed the Asian American wearing a similar-blood soccer jersey with several dark blue accents, with matching cleats and shorts that plumped up right at the bulge-jockstrap/boxers barely holding in the Korean man.
Etched in the middle was the number nine, above it was a dark blue crest with the white letters, MAN. The greek symbol Alpha replacing the letter A in bold, seemingly a modified version of the Korean national jersey. Cause Raiden’s a fucking American-you get that n00bs?!
Over at his pecs...which are really showing his muscle, not to mention how big and bold his demeanor seemed as he wore the soccer attire really well. His thin asian eyes peered his surroundings beneath the morning sun slowly creeping up from the dawn, sweat glistening down his tanned skin as he wiped it off his brow with one of his white sweatbands, checking his black sports watch over at his right briefly before legs continuing to run as he peers over to the right and noticing Toby blushing greatly.
Raiden Koh just about had it.
“Keep your FUCKING eyes to yourself, french FAGGOT!”
Toby Rosiana was shocked...yet, very turned on, more so than earlier now that the hot soccer boy acknowledged his presence...in an aggressive bully kind of way. Throbbing hard, easy.
Raiden Koh really let it all out to his victim, normally a bro but it seemed like he really was pissed today...,specially at the gay french kid watching him. Toby did not watch or knew many things about soccer, in fact, he HATED IT...but one thing he knew-
“La nation de France always wins~”
!!!
CLASP!
Toby Immediately shut his lips, eyes peering at the fact his mouth moved on its own. Like a seductive and sauve comeback, stunned and even more aroused than before.
He stood still, standing tall as his feet began itching, extending as his toes began to struggle beneath his existing shoes. Toes wiggling as they began shifting, extending with cracks and POP!
Larger and larger as bumps poked up from below, the insignificant sneakers redesigned themselves larger, a multicolored stripe at the bottom with the vast majority turning white as an iconic black swoosh displays itself arrogantly at the top. The gay boy, who always shyed away from conflict, felt like he could kick ass right now with his size 14s.
“Da FUCK did you say?”
GRAB!
The taller male pushed him against the wall. Glaring daggers with a SNORT...breath blowing against the Petit Monsieur’s head. A set-up for an almost instant trigger which converted his bully fetish into THE ONE BEING THE BULLY.
‘Who does this sucker think he is?’
In fact, since the bashful Asian is pushing against his shoulder, physical contact between an inferior rival is really aggravating. He deserved better, maybe he would pin down one of those mademoiselles down the campus later on...in a more, dignified and much rougher manner than this.
His calves were itching, pressing strongly against the Jeans as they were forced to retreat back to his knees as they meshed into a soft-stretchable white nylon with a blue stripe over at his left, his waist grew a
couple of sizes larger as his expanding buttocks were sandwiched tightly against the wall. The bulge at the front containing his manhood groaned, perfectly syncing up with his killer soccer-butt as it grew to an aroused 9 inches-though more of a pent up, enraged arousal as testosterone flowed down.
Below the Extra large pair of soccer shorts, gingerly revealing the transfiguration process into a hunksicle were stubbing traces of blonde....blonde? His hair was brown or..., dusting up as they tightened with solid nimble muscle, more than those of just a runner but rather one who went pro with sports, hitting the gym with his bros as his bones push downward further as his toughened striker legs were embraced by red accents, socks rising up with black blobs completing the top and bottom of his soccer shorts.
As an iconic white swoosh appears onto his present soccer attire-his spinal chord cracks inches taller, pulling him just a bit taller than the asian around 6ft 3. Confidence bellowing, as his lips-hands now pinned to the wall, to move like an asshole would.
“Alor...you cannot beat me so you try to fuck me faggot?”
The moment he said that, fear was erased from his system as he looked down upon his opponent, both literally and metaphorically. Taunting the fucker knowing he could literally beat his sorry ass being the experience pro he is at soccer, at flirting, even gaming if he bothered to waste time with a couple of nerds.
‘Gotta keep my body in shape after all...the ladies are waiting~’
With every seductive-deep, playboy french line, delivered shamelessly in his head. His shoulders jerked back as his torso grew a couple of sizes larger, muscles being piled on nicely as his sweater shift in material, wooly cotton turning into nylon-a familiar hue of blue. Dark blue, red and white-colors of the French flag with sky blue accents trailing down the shoulders as those long sleeves RIP apart from the proud soccer jersey he wore.
Beneath his prized Jersey he now wore, expanding and stretching to his growing body as it pressed against his stomach, the fats bubbling in rage as his abdominals boiled hot, eight firm cobblestones of marble chiseled themselves into perfect abs like the statues from Musee de France. Pectorals rising as the respective tendons and ligaments bursted out the well fine-slabs of meat, layer after layer around his neck and strong back as a V shape emerged itself from those two human-shaped soccer balls poking out in his french attire, a french flag appearing in the middle of his pecs, with the number nine appearing directly below it and plastered all over his back.
Like with that cocksucker Raiden, he modified his own Jersey. Well...the curse did it but hey, reality shift. As slow mo ceased, Raiden was fist-faced close to the french man, but right about he tried to punch em, the growing french stereotype raised up his legs and-
!!!
Raiden jumped backwards, avoiding the fatal kick to his precious jack off, lady fucker tools. Barely missing damage as he glared daggers at his opponent.
“You DIRTY-!”
“Sometimes...you gotta play dirty to win~”
The french head responded in a playful, devious tone. As he lifted his shoulders, nicely and firmly far apart as his biceps swelled in anticipation with a good FLEX. Legs itching for strikin’, fists ready for brawlin’ as his palms grew rough and calloused from tons of climbing and all kinds of training. As the veins show over linearly at his strong arms and biceps, the remaining cloth from his sweater shifted into white sweatbands, with a black sports watch on his right, mirroring the asian.
“Fucking pussy...” Raiden responded, forcibly keeping his guard against his rival, “You think you’re so good just cause you’re from France?”
Originally having so much respect for others, now all of it being channeled into himself and his capability as a striker in his university team. His outlook in life took on a more self centered approach, loving and relishing every ounce of himself, smirking at the shorter male with a tight shove, arms crossed as his bravado exploded alongside every ounce of meekness left in his throat.
“Gay pride loving cock-suckers can never beat Moi~!...Europeans always beat up faggots who can’t even kick straight! Just like the world cup.”
He spat, his accent slurred irresistibly as he could only palm his bulge below as he licked the growing stubble all over his face, upper and lower lip-beard. An epitome of a man, a pure ladies man set for the glory of France.
His beautiful French face cannot be harmed...
His teeth flashed a straight set of dentures, pearly whites over his smooth lips. His jawline grew defined as it shifted into a nice squarish angular shape, fitting of a charmer and a debonair as his ears get studded into with black pops. Nose pushing downward and angular, as his brows get trimmed nicely as he furrowed them, accentuating the windows to his soul. An angelic beauty, one that’s immune from bruises and harm. Perfect like a model, perfect like him.
The transformation was completely oblivious to the opposing team, as the striker in front of him grew long blonde locks of straight hair, curls being ironed down as they are lost in the sea of heterosexuality. Continuously palming as though it was his last, adrenaline pumping like the sexual crazed French head he is.
His eyes blinked out in their sky blue glory, as the soccer team he initially admired turned into pure rivalry and arrogance. There was no way an American can beat him-especially that sissy asian ! What were they? The great wall of China?! Not surprising consider-
“3-0, You vs me!” Raiden spat back, eyes flaring without mercy. The bro had enough of this flirty skunk on his turf, the score needed to be set straight-once and for all!
Thomas Rosier smirked, performing great tricks with his precious-World Cup Striker signed ball as he simply pulled out his two fingers, and gave a great whistle-
POOT!