Brody blinked. One minute he was standing in a bar at a Super Bowl Party trying to drink a stein of beer, and the next he was naked, and then he was in the dark. Steve had said something about if he lost he'd be Steve's jockstrap. Well, it sort of made sense. Brody didn't look all buff, but he was a gym rat and if he didn't indulge in beer and pizza that much, he'd be pretty buff. Steve was always calling Brody his jock, now Brody really was his jock. At least until the game ended.
Crap thought Brody, that old guy George. If the Patriots win, I'm going to spend a week as his underwear for reals. Oh, damn, I made a couple other bets. What did I agree to? I thought they were just joking. People can't be changed into jockstraps? Duh, I can feel Steve's cock and balls crammed inside me. I can taste and smell him. Yeah, the bets are real. Damn, I really hope that Seattle wins. I wish I could see the game. It was tied.
Oh, no. You bastard, Steve. No, you cannot jack off in me!