No one seems to know how Jock Season got started. In fact, no one seems to remember there being a Jock Season until last year. Then somehow everyone had the same notion that Jock Season has been an annual tradition for several decades now. When I try to talk about it, most people tell me, "Stop asking stupid questions. It's a very old and time honored tradition. You don't want to break tradition do you?"
Some of us do want to break tradition, especially us jocks. We've tried protesting and getting the laws changed to protect us but no matter how many of us protest the laws, the laws have not changed. All jocks between eighteen and twenty five must participate in Jock Season.
It's supposed to be considered an honor. The media is always talking about how only the best young men get designated as jocks and how proud these young men should feel but it's hard to feel proud of being hunted and forced to run naked through the woods. And there is a lot of pressure to not let any jock escape.
*****
This was my first year as a jock. I just turned eighteen and got the letter informing me that I'd been designated as a jock. I did wonder at how they chose jocks because not every athlete was chosen and some who had not participated in athletic programs were chosen. I had tried to avoid becoming a jock by not participating in any athletic programs but I played sports whenever I could outside of an athletic program. How did they know about my sports?
My dad seemed to pity me but he tried to encourage me. He said, "I'm sorry but I'm proud of you. I can't wait to tell my friends that my son was designated a jock."
My little brother wasn't so kind. He mocked me saying, "You're going to be hunted. Ha ha."
I couldn't escape. My friend Jared had tried to escape last year by wearing clothes and trying to hide that he had been designated a jock. His family helped him keep that secret but somehow the secret leaked. On the third day of jock season, Jared woke up to find a hunter in his window. The family sued for trespassing and won but the hunter got to keep Jared as a trophy anyway.
What's really weird about jock season is that there are several different trophy forms to choose from. There is no magic or technology that can transform a jock into a trophy but somehow, jocks turn into trophies when shot. Certain trophy forms are more popular than others and the hunters do seem to be fixated on genitals. Instead of mounting Jared's head on the wall, Jared's genitals were mounted on the wall. Whenever I had to stop by Mr. Ferguson's place, I had to see Jared's genitals hanging there, erect in all their glory. It creeped me out knowing that I could wind up just like Jared.
I tried to prepare for my turn. I ventured into the woods and hid various supplies around. I also hid clothes and money in the woods so that if I was desperate enough, I could try sneaking into town to buy something. Jock's were supposed to be naked like wild animals because this was supposed to be as much like real hunting as possible without killing the jocks. Some had even talked about transforming jocks before the hunt by replacing their hands with paws or temporarily dumbing them down but how was that even possible.
On the first day of jock season, they gathered us up in a big truck. They strip searched each of us before letting us on the truck to make sure we took nothing with us. It was crowded in the back of the truck with thirty of us jocks crammed in there. Skin to skin contact was unavoidable.
We got out to the designated release spot and were given an hour to scatter and hide. I went to where I had hid supplies but they were missing. Only food and water was left, no clothes, no money, no knife or anything else. How did they find my hiding spots? At least I wouldn't starve but it would be dangerous because at least one person knew where my hiding places were.
I stayed free most of the day but then I heard voices nearby. I decided to hide. It was a man with his twelve year old son. He was teaching his son to hunt. It didn't seem like they noticed me as they passed and went on their way but I waited for what seemed like an hour before I ventured out of my hiding place. They were waiting for me. The son shot his rifle at me while the father gave him instructions.
It didn't hurt. I didn't even notice that I'd been hit except my body instantly went limp and I fell to the ground. I could still see, hear and feel but my body was as limp as a ragdoll.
They came over and looked me over. The dad said, "That one's got a nice rack. Must be nine inches. That's something you can brag about to your friends. I doubt any of them bagged any bigger jock. Measure it to make sure."
Then I was horrified to feel the twelve year old pick up my cock and measure it. He hesitated though. He then said, "Sorry mister jock sir."
His dad said, "Why are you apologizing to him."
"He's human just like us."
"He's human but he's a jock. He's legally no different than a deer or elk."
The boy measured my cock more confidently.
The dad said, "He is human enough that you can get a good education about the changes your own body will be going through. Physically he is just like you even though he's legally a jock. You may study his body whenever you wish. Now let's get some pictures and start processing the meat."
They picked me up and posed me for several pictures of the son and his kill. I didn't know what to expect for processing but it started with them washing me thoroughly and grooming me. They shaved the stubble off my face and trimmed up my body hair. There must have been something magical going on because the more the boy touched me, the more I could feel like he was transforming me. Like when he shaved me, it felt like my facial hair would not grow back again.
The dad asked, "What kind of trophy form do you want him to be?" I could feel the boys hand as it seemed to sink inside me like he was molding me.