Simon really didn't want to be near or wear anything jockish at all, but it wouldn't be giving in. Just a matter of avoiding further trouble before he could get out of here and figure out what to do. His dick would be a major annoyance flopping in the wind, and it's not like he could go home naked or there were any pants around. At least this was a way to cover himself up, plus it would probably provide support so his balls and extra large sausage of a dick weren't bouncing around all over the place outdoors.
He'd be able to get home and clean off at home, he figured. Simon reluctantly slid the strap up his thighs and secured the elastic on his lower hips.
Nothing, thankfully; he knew he'd be fine.
Thank God the jockstrap didn't cause any further changes. The last thing Simon needed was to be even manlier, hairier, or full of jock muscle and meat bulging out, or bigger feet. He would never want any of that stuff. The real Simon was just a gentle, studious boy, an apt pupil with a bright future. Not with any of this hair or these manly hands. He couldn't imagine how these dumb jocks always wanted to do stupid stuff like pullups and measuring their biceps.
Simon was curious as to just how jocky his body had become, just because he needed to know what he was dealing with here. He walked over to the mirror, glad that the jockstrap did nothing other than what it was supposed to do, support his dick and balls, which felt snug in there. Simon imagined if he ever got a hardon they wouldn't, but that wasn't going to happen.
Simon turned in the mirror and looked at his hairy, sweaty, smelly body. At least he didn't look like a jock yet. He flexed in the mirror and turned to the side to see how big his bicep was. Looking pretty ripped, didn't they guys say? Or cut? Thank god Simon wasn't. If he were a jock he'd probably be obsessed with being buff and cut, for sure.
Buff, like jocks tend to be. He'd never want to be.
Simon lifted his arms in a double biceps and flexed just to see how he didn't really look like a jock, mostly still had his form left. Probably wouldn't look totally sick and stupid if he had gross muscles. He had to get out of here. Thick pecs, muscle just hanging in slabs, really, all those dumb jocks had. He wondered if he could make one of his pecs bounce if he wanted to. He'd seen guys do that before. Probably couldn't because he wasn't like them, and he'd never want to even if he had thick pecs.
What was... anyhow, it was good that the jock strap had zero effect on him. Simon had no desire to be some dumb stud admiring himself in the mirror like all those jocks did in their gear all the time. He looked into the mirror and tried to notice how he looked just so he knew, scientifically at least. Did he look like a stud? Probably a little bit, but mostly not. So gross. Not that being a stud was bad, but it just didn't fit his personality. He didn't want to be a jock. Simon turned to the side a bit and wondered if he looked more like a stud from that angle. When he squared his jaw it kind of did. But he didn't really have the muscle for it all, he was just Simon only with this gross hair.
Simon took a few steps back and flexed again, just wanted to check himself from a different angle. Yeah, probably he could be ripped with muscles if he'd work out, which he would never think about doing. Simon had zero desire to work out or even look at his own muscles in the mirror for that matter.
He took a step closer, thinking it sure was surreal how much he'd changed. He had that bony clip to the shoulders that was the sign of a scrawny dude though. No jock look, which was something to be grateful for.
It's not like he'd ever be the sort of jock who's into muscle and himself like that. No way. Good thing the jock strap was keeping his dumb dick from getting any cum on anything and he was safe from further changes.
What a relief that nothing had changed. Simon looked at his pecs, imagining what they'd look like if they were any bigger or how they measured up to some of the other dudes on the team. Thank god he'd never think like a jock at least even if he was stuck on this team with some of them, and some of those dudes had some serious muscle on them. He was glad he wouldn't have any on him. He turned to the side, just to get a look from a different angle, noticing his lats. Football dudes tended to have nice lats, though, but even though Simon had the jock on, he'd never be some football dude looking in the mirror and worrying about this sort of stuff. There was nothing that appealed to him about being some body-obsessed jock thinking about building muscle and looking at himself in the mirror and that sort of stuff.