Golden Army - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

I used to do ballroom dancing. It was a lot of fun. 💛

Some bros are dancers, dance requires the same intense training as sport, the same dedication, the type of dedication that makes dancers perfect for the gold lifestyle.

I gotcha bro 💛

New MF on Gold Team

Touched a gold jersey and don't ever want to go back. Name's Ashton and excited to join the golden team thanks to my bro @brodygold

You got this bro 💛

Saw it ,loved it ,had to put it on.

Thank you @brodygold for picking this jersey out for me ,I'll do my best to be a good part of the team !

The Brocess

You sat in the reception area, glancing around at the others. Your competition. Every one of you wanted to join the Golden Army, the elite sports club that had quickly become legendary. Invitations were rare, and you knew the journey to acceptance was grueling. But here you were, waiting for your interview after weeks of preparation. The stakes had never felt higher.

You had sent in your application, half-expecting to be ignored, but the Golden Army had replied within days. Their response was casual, almost cocky, inviting you to come in for an interview. “Just part of the brocess,” they said. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Finally, the receptionist calls your name. Heart pounding, you rise and follow him through a gleaming corridor until you reach a door that looks like it belongs to royalty. As it swings open, the room beyond takes your breath away—gold everywhere. Gold walls, a golden desk, even the light had a warm, golden hue. And sitting behind that desk, wearing the coveted Golden Army jersey, was the man you had spoken with on the phone.

He looked up from his paperwork with a grin, almost like he knew this moment was a formality. “Sup, bro. Name’s Hades.”

You clear your throat, trying to mask your nerves. “Uh, hey. I’m here for the interview… hoping to join the Golden Army.”

Hades leaned back in his chair, an amused smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, I figured. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t want in, right?” He grabs a clipboard, twirling his pen between his fingers. “Let’s get you brocessed then. First question: Are you ready to boost your bros when they’re down?”

The question seemed easy enough, but there was a weight to it. Being part of the Golden Army wasn’t just about soccer—it was about the bond, the brotherhood. You’d heard stories of the lengths they went to for each other. This was more than a game.

“Yes, absolutely,” you reply with conviction. “I’ll be there for my bros.”

Hades jots something down, not breaking eye contact. “Good. Next question: What’s your favorite soccer position?”

You pause. The Golden Army is known for its skill on the field, and while you know your way around a soccer ball, you wonder if this is a trick question. Do they want players with specific talents? Or are they looking for someone flexible, willing to play where needed? Either way, honesty seems like the only path forward.

You answer truthfully, and Hades gives a slight nod, scribbling again. “Alright, noted.”

The interview stretches on, each question probing a different aspect of what it means to be part of this brotherhood—your loyalty, your drive, your passion for the game. Hades asks with an effortless confidence, like he’s already decided whether you’re in or not, and you’re just waiting for the verdict. Hours feel like minutes as the tension in the room builds. You feel his eyes on you, weighing every word.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Hades sets his pen down and folds his hands. A slow smile spreads across his face. “Congrats, bro. You’re in.”

The relief washes over you, and you exhale for the first time in what feels like hours. Hades stands, crossing the room to a golden closet and pulling out the iconic jersey. “Now, let’s get you suited up—and we’ve got to give you your new name.” He tosses the jersey toward you, and you catch it, your heart racing. The material feels heavier in your hands than you imagined, like it’s carrying the weight of every victory the Golden Army has earned.

As you pull the jersey over your head, the transformation feels real. Your arms and legs grow out, not too much but enough to make a difference on the soccer field. Your mind slows, focusing only on the golden army and your new bros. Hades is looking more and more attractive by the second. You’ll have to thank him in a special way later.

Hades grins as he looks you over. “Welcome to the Golden Army, bro. Practice starts soon. You’re gonna love it.”

You glance down at your new name and number stitched into the fabric. It’s official now. And as you head toward the field, any doubts you once had vanish. You’ve made the right choice. This was always where you were meant to be.

The Chess Tournament

Jason fidgeted nervously as he approached his assigned table. At 5'4", pudgy, and more comfortable in front of a computer screen, he was stepping into unfamiliar territory: his first in-person chess tournament. Online, Jason had racked up an impressive 1800 rating, but this was different—tangible, immediate, with no second chances in a single-elimination bracket.

Sitting at the table across from him was, without a doubt, one of the most athletic guys Jason had ever seen. This wasn’t the image of a typical chess player; the man was lean, muscular, and radiated charisma. He looked like he had just come from a photoshoot rather than a chess tournament, wearing a golden soccer jersey with the number 11 emblazoned on it. He wasn't;t attracted to guys, but even he could admit the guy was attractive. Jason couldn't help but think this guy had wandered into the wrong competition. No way a jock like him could hold his own here.

“Sup, man. Name’s Brody.” The athlete flashed a friendly smile, extending his hand.

“Jason,” he replied, shaking it, the disparity between their grips palpable. "Shall we get started?"

"Sure thing, bro. Looks like you're up first," Brody said, leaning back with a relaxed air.

Jason moved a pawn forward, confident he could end this quickly. The four-move checkmate was a tried and true tactic against beginners. Brody was probably thinking about his next soccer practice, not chess strategy.

But to Jason’s surprise, Brody blocked the move with precision. Maybe it was luck. Or maybe not. As the game unfolded, Jason realized this wasn’t going to be an easy win.

Jason focused intently on the board, calculating his next moves. So absorbed was he in the game, he didn’t notice the subtle changes creeping over his body. His posture straightened as his body stretched upward to 6 feet, muscle replacing fat. His clothes tightened, then shifted to a snug athletic fit, as if sculpted for his new, lean physique. Brown hair lightened into a sun-kissed blonde, cropped into a sporty, effortless cut. His transformation was seamless, unnoticed.

The mental changes followed. Jason’s sharp, calculating mind dulled, as if a fog had rolled in. Why was he thinking so hard? His thoughts drifted, losing their focus on chess strategy. Instead, his mind filled with something simpler, something primal: soccer, the gym, hanging with his bros, and—strangely—admiring his teammates' physiques. His eyes glossed over the board. Who needed this game when there were other, more important things, like team camaraderie and post-practice showers?

“Checkmate,” Brody announced casually, snapping Jason out of his reverie. The horsey and the pointy piece had him trapped.

“Dang, GG bro!” Jason grinned, a playful laugh escaping his lips. “Glad I got to play you, bro!”

Brody’s smile was unwavering, though there was a depth to it Jason couldn’t quite grasp. “Me too, bro. See you at practice later?”

Jason didn’t hesitate. “Hell yeah, bro! Good luck, man.”

Brody's grin widened. "Oh, don't worry. I've got this."

As Jason left the tournament, he felt an unfamiliar surge of pride—not for the chess game, but for being part of something bigger. The Golden Army was his family now, his purpose. And deep down, he already knew a few others who would love to join.

Back at the venue a few hours later, Brody smirked as he hoisted the trophy. The Golden Army had swept yet another event, but that wasn’t the true victory. Securing new members like Jason? That was the real prize. He shot off a message to Captain Richard: Another successful recruitment. Practice is gonna get packed, Cap. Don’t worry—I’ll make sure of it.

Can y'all do a gold swimming and diving team? I bet y'all look good in gold speedos! Don't believe me? Ask Kellan Lutz!

You know we got a swim and diving team, bro! The Golden Army dominates every sport you can think of. And we certainly look good doing it. Our athletes are always trained to be at their peak, their bodies carefully sculpted to fit whichever sport they’re playing. Our swimmers are top of the line, with strong, thick arms and legs. Just take a look at some of our swimmers here, practicing for their next meet. We’re always looking for new recruits too. What do you say?

His Full Potential

Ethan was frustrated.

He had poured weeks of hard work into training, hoping to realize his dream of becoming a professional boxer, but progress was nonexistent. Each punch he threw felt weak, barely moving the punching bag, while his body ached with every jab he received. Worse yet, the thought of facing real opponents terrified him. Ethan wasn’t just losing to the punching bag. He was losing to himself and the ghosts of his imaginary opponents.

"Maybe I’m just not cut out for this..." he muttered, staring at his reflection in the locker room mirror, hands shaking as he prepared for another day of disappointing training. His desire was there, burning inside, but his body wasn’t following through. "I wish I could be a real boxer."

Unbeknownst to him, Brody had been listening in. Brody, a seasoned athlete known for his incredible strength and heart, had seen this scenario many times before—potential buried under self-doubt. And he had just the thing to unlock it.

Brody approached with an easy, confident stride. “Yo, bro. Need a hand?”

Startled, Ethan whipped around and slammed into the locker, causing a loud clattering. "Ow, um, yeah. I guess you could say that." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

Brody smiled. “I’ve been there, man. I know what it feels like to want something so bad and just not hit the mark. But, I think I’ve got something that’ll help you hit harder, bro.” He reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a pair of gleaming gold boxing gloves.

Ethan’s eyes widened. “Uh, thanks… but these are way too big for me.” The gloves shimmered under the fluorescent lights, almost looking alive in his hands.

“Don’t worry about the size, bro. Trust me. Let’s see what they can do for you.”

Ethan hesitated, but something about Brody’s calm confidence made him want to believe. He slid his hands into the oversized gloves, and Brody tightened them around his wrists. The moment the gloves were secured, Ethan felt a surge of energy pulse through him. It was like a current running up his arms, spreading through his chest and down his legs.

“What... what’s happening to me?” Ethan gasped, looking at his hands in disbelief as his muscles began to swell.

Brody grinned. “Don’t sweat it, bro. You’re just unlocking your full potential. Part of the brocess, you know?”

Ethan’s arms began to thicken, bulging with new muscle. His chest expanded, pecs growing larger and harder with every breath. His once soft belly vanished, revealing a rock-hard set of abs, defined and gleaming with strength. His legs grew thicker, more stable, the muscles coiling under his skin like springs ready to explode into action.

But the changes weren’t just physical. As Ethan’s body transformed, so did his mind. The fear, the doubt—gone. In its place was a powerful, singular focus. The thought of stepping into the ring no longer filled him with dread, but with excitement. Every punch he imagined throwing was charged with an unstoppable rage. Boxing wasn’t just something he wanted to do anymore—it was who he was.

“How you feeling, bro?” Brody asked, watching Ethan’s transformation with a knowing smirk.

Ethan rolled his shoulders, feeling the raw power surging through him. “Fucking amazing bro.” His voice was deeper now, steady and full of confidence. He balled his fists, feeling the crackle of energy in his knuckles. “I’ve got a match coming up soon. Time to show ‘em what I’m made of.”

Brody slapped Ethan on the back. “That’s the spirit, bro! Good luck.”

Ethan smirked, his eyes burning with determination. “Luck? I don’t need luck.” He smashed his fists together, the sound echoing through the locker room like thunder. “I’m ready, bro. Time to show the world who I really am.”

And with that, Ethan strode out of the locker room, each step more confident than the last. He was ready to show the world his full potential.

"That's it bro, final part of the brocess. Just making sure you're fully committed to team gold. Doing so well bro, look you're smiling already."

That’s it bro. Watch the pretty spirals. I know you said you like football, so why not be a real football player? Just gotta get rid of those pesky thoughts first. There we go bro. How does it feel to obey Cap? Good? Thought so, bro. Why don’t we show your friends the pretty spirals too?

A Bit of a Stretch

Gary and Phil had been friends for as long as either of them could remember. Decades ago, they had met as young men full of energy, bonded over their shared interests, and formed a friendship that stood the test of time. But as the years passed, their lives changed. They both grew older, heavier, and less active, their youthful adventures gradually replaced by slower walks in the park and quiet conversations. Though they no longer ran 5Ks or played sports together, their friendship remained as strong as ever.

On this particular day, the two were ambling down their usual route through the park, their conversation meandering just as slowly. Gary, always the more assertive of the two, walked ahead, while Phil followed a few steps behind, his reserved nature keeping him quiet for most of their chat until the two stopped for a quick snack on a park bench.

“You know, Phil, we’re not getting any younger,” Gary said as he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “I’ve been thinking… maybe we should try something new. Spice things up a bit.”

Phil chuckled softly. “At our age? Gary, we’re lucky to make it around the park without needing a nap after.”

Gary, with his usual determination, turned and shot Phil a look. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve been acting like we’re ancient. We’re not dead yet, Phil.”

Phil smiled, his quiet nature rarely yielding to bold ideas. “I know, I know. But I’m happy with our walks. What more do we need?”

Gary was about to reply when something off to the side caught his eye. It was a glint of gold under a large oak tree, shimmering in the afternoon light. His curiosity piqued, Gary immediately got up off the bench without a word, leaving Phil no choice but to follow.

“Gary, where are you going?” Phil called after him, picking up his pace to keep up with his friend’s sudden burst of energy.

Gary didn’t answer at first, his focus entirely on the golden object. As they neared the tree, the glint became clearer—a yoga mat, bright and shimmering, as if it had just been placed there moments before.

Gary bent down and examined it, running his hand over the surface. “Would you look at this? A yoga mat, and a fancy one at that.”

Phil, more cautious as always, approached slowly. “What’s it doing out here in the middle of the park?”

Gary shrugged, his assertiveness pushing aside any doubt. “Who cares? It’s here, and we’re here. Maybe it’s a sign, Phil. You know, to try something new.”

Phil shifted uncomfortably. “Yoga? I don’t know… We’re not exactly limber anymore...”

“Come on,” Gary said, already lowering himself onto the mat. “What’s the worst that could happen? A little stretching will do us good.”

Phil hesitated, watching as Gary settled himself down with surprising ease. His own instincts told him to be wary, to stick to their usual routine, but something about Gary’s energy made him pause. Gary always had a way of pushing Phil out of his comfort zone, and more often than not, it ended up being a good thing.

With a sigh, Phil slowly lowered himself down next to Gary, his larger frame awkward as he adjusted on the mat. “Alright, but if I pull something, it’s on you.”

Gary grinned. “You’ll thank me later.”

The moment they both sat on the mat, an odd sensation crept through their bodies. It wasn’t immediate, but subtle—like a warm, gentle pulse that spread from the mat into their limbs, relaxing their stiff joints and soothing their aches. Phil frowned slightly, feeling the strange warmth but not fully understanding what was happening.

Gary, ever bold, started with a basic pose. “Let’s try a few stretches. Nothing fancy, just loosen up.”

Phil followed suit, though less enthusiastically, his movements slow and careful. But as they stretched, the warmth intensified, and with it, something extraordinary began to happen. Gary’s posture straightened, his joints moving with a fluidity he hadn’t felt in decades. His muscles, once softened by age, tightened and firmed, his belly shrinking as his frame grew more athletic. His thinning gray hair darkened to a rich brown, and the lines on his face disappeared, leaving his skin smooth and youthful. Finally, his clothes transformed into a gold jersey and gold shorts, further adding to his new athletic image.

Phil, too, was undergoing the same transformation. His heavier, rounder frame slimmed down, his belly flattening as muscles emerged where there had once been softness. His once sagging skin tightened and turned much darker, making him a black man. His thinning hair got shaved into a buzz cut, regaining the fullness of his youth. But unlike Gary, who embraced the changes without hesitation, Phil’s reserved nature made him more uneasy. Though his body felt better, his mind remained cautious, uncertain of what was happening. His clothes underwent a similar transformation, making the two seem like brothers in a way.

“This feels… different,” Phil murmured, glancing down at his now firmer arms but unable to fully comprehend what was happening.

Gary, now looking like the athletic man he had been in his thirties, stood up and stretched. “Feels incredible, you mean. See? I told you we weren’t too old for this.”

Phil sat up, running a hand through his now fuller hair, a small frown creasing his brow. “It’s weird though… We’re not… Were we always wearing these gold jerseys?”

Gary, always decisive, waved him off. “You’re just overthinking it. We feel good, right? That’s what matters.”

Phil wasn’t convinced, but he nodded anyway, trusting Gary’s confidence. “Yeah, I guess.”

Gary looked around the park, his youthful energy practically buzzing now. “You know what we should do next? Meditation. Real yoga nuts always finish with meditation.”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Meditation? I don’t know, Gary…”

“You said that about yoga too, and look how that turned out,” Gary shot back with a smirk. “Come on, sit with me. Let’s clear our minds.”

Phil sighed, but as usual, Gary’s determination was hard to resist. He sat back down on the mat beside his friend, settling into a comfortable cross-legged position. Gary closed his eyes, and after a moment of hesitation, Phil did the same.

The golden mat seemed to pulse beneath them again, syncing with their breath. Each inhale felt more cleansing than the last, each exhale more liberating. The world around them faded away, the sounds of the park—children laughing, birds chirping, the distant hum of traffic—disappearing as they sank deeper into meditation.

As they breathed in unison, the mat worked its final magic. The changes that had begun with their bodies now extended to their minds. Memories of their past lives, their old identities as older, heavier men, began to dissolve like mist in the morning sun.

For Gary, the shift was seamless. His assertive nature welcomed the change, his mind embracing the new reality without question. The memories of his aging body, his struggles with weight, his slowing down—all of it vanished. In their place, new memories took root: memories of an active, athletic life, filled with adventure and vigor. He believed he had always been young, fit, and in control.

Phil, however, resisted at first. His natural caution made him hold on to fragments of his old life—his wife, his children, the slow, comfortable routine he had settled into. But with each breath, the resistance weakened. The warmth from the mat seeped deeper into his mind, erasing the hesitations and doubts, replacing them with new, calmer memories. He had always been like this—youthful, healthy, and reserved, but content in his quiet strength.

When they finally opened their eyes, it was as if they had woken up from a dream. The sun was still warm on their skin, the park still peaceful around them, but everything felt different. Gary stretched his arms above his head, his movements effortless and fluid, while Phil stood up more slowly, though with far more ease than before.

“Man, that was incredible,” Gary said, his voice filled with excitement. “I feel like I could run a marathon, bro.”

Phil, more subdued but no longer uneasy, nodded. “Yeah… It was, bro. We should do that again.”

Gary clapped him on the back. "Same time tomorrow?”

Phil smiled softly. “Sure, bro.”

As the two friends walked away, the golden mat lay behind them, shimmering with its inviting golden glow, waiting for the next pair of friends to transform.

Even martial artists are getting into the golden spirit! I think their gold outfits suit them well. Maybe you want to join them? If so, hit me, @hamza-goldenarab or @hades-gold19 up and we’ll get you sorted

The Golden Army also makes sure to give back to the community for all their support. Here’s one of our loyal worker drones cleaning up by the train tracks. He used to be one of our biggest haters, but the subliminals in his helmet were all that was needed to “convince” him to be a part of the army as a mindless soldier.

We could always use more hands, bro. Whatcha say? Wanna help those in need like this guy?

Whoops! We found this guy in our locker room after the game, trying to peek at our team’s playbook. We don’t take too kindly to that of course. Now he’s another loyal and subservient member of the team. Sean will do us a lot of good now that he’s on our side. From the looks a few of the other team members have been giving him, I’m sure he’ll repay us and more soon enough.

Hey man! I know you bet me by the end of this match, I will join the “golden army” wrestling team and get the rest of the guys to join you, but what do I get if I win? Damn, you look sexy in that gold wrestling singlet. How about if I win, we go on a date?

Oh you’re so on, bro! It’s a deal. Looks like it’s time for the match to start bro. May the better wrestler win! Though I’ll just say that the golden army always dominates in whatever we do.

Looks like you got a bit too distracted by my gold singlet, bro. I could see you staring the whole match, even as I was pinning you bro. Looks like I win our little bet here. Time for you to honor your part of the deal.

Here’s your gold singlet, bro. Doesn’t it feel so nice to go gold? That singlet wrapping around your body perfectly. That’s because our singlets have magical properties to them, bro. They adjust perfectly to your body, changing it if necessary. Those extra muscles in your arms and chest are looking nice bro. And has your skin always been that dark? I don’t remember tbh. It’s got a nice golden glow to it now though. Perfect for your new life.

I see why you got so distracted by me, bro. You’re looking good in that. I’m a good sport, so I’ll take you up on that date, bro. I’ll even let you pick the place.

Welcome to your new home, bro. We can worry about your teammates later, don’t ya think? We have a date to prepare for.

Sir Brody, if there are bros who are too lazy to go to team training and work out, will you send them to drone? They seem need dronification 💛🌀

Sure thing, bro. I'll send them your way immediately. I actually have two bros in mind right now. Recent recruits who seem to think the golden army can just goof off and not practice to still be at the top of our game. It's almost shameful how little they care about the team and our mission. I'm sure some time as brainwashed office drones will be good for them.

They're looking pretty good, bro! So mindless and obedient now. You did such a good job. Captain says you're in charge of them, okay? Make sure they understand their new role well.

Honestly, I think they look better like this, don't you? I'm sure they won't mind if they become office drones permanently, right? Take good care of our new drones, bro!

The Spy

Allen moved silently through the Golden Army's locker room, his heart pounding in his chest. He had been tasked with gathering intel on their biggest rivals, and if he succeeded, it could give the Serpents the edge they desperately needed in their upcoming match. He needed anything to help his team win. A playbook, a roster, any inside information would do the trick. But the clock was ticking, and the empty locker room wouldn't stay empty for long.

Just as Allen scanned the rows of lockers, he heard muffled voices approaching from the hallway. Panic surged through him. If he got caught, he knew the Golden Army had their own... "unique" ways of dealing with intruders. And they weren’t known for being gentle to say the least.

Thinking quickly, Allen spotted a gold jersey hanging among many others on the wall. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, I can blend in. After all, the Golden Army was recruiting new players left and right—surely they wouldn’t notice one more. Without a second thought, he grabbed the jersey and pulled it over his head.

The moment the jersey settled on his shoulders, something strange happened. His thoughts began to slip away, melting like snow in the sun. His eyes glazed over, turning into golden spirals that mirrored the shimmering jersey. Memories of the Serpents and his life as their star midfielder evaporated, replaced by a singular drive—serve the Golden Army. On and off the field. In every way.

Allen was no more.

He stood up straighter, his identity shifting as effortlessly as his thoughts. He was Bruce now, a loyal midfielder for the Golden Army, dedicated to doing whatever was asked of him. Just then, the locker room door swung open, and Brody and Scott strolled in, deep in conversation. They paused when they saw the blank-faced recruit standing stiffly, his eyes still spiraling.

Scott raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Told ya it’d work, bruv.”

Brody chuckled, giving a knowing nod. “You sure did. The jersey’s magic, man.” He turned to the dazed figure in front of him. “What’s your name and position, bro?”

Bruce snapped to attention. “Sir! I’m Bruce, midfielder for the Golden Army, sir!”

Brody and Scott exchanged another satisfied look.

“Perfect,” Scott said with a smirk. “And you’ll follow any order we give you, yeah?”

“Yes, sir!” Bruce’s voice was robotic, still smiling, completely obedient.

“Good to hear, bro. We’ve got a match against the Serpents coming up, and we’ll need you on the pitch for that. Afterward, report back to the locker room. The rest of the bros will wanna... ‘welcome’ you properly.”

“Yes, sir!” Bruce saluted, already focused on the game ahead. His loyalty was absolute, his mind now belonging to the Golden Army.

With one final nod from Brody, Bruce walked out, his golden spirals staying strong throughout the evening. He was ready to win—ready to do anything for his new team, and it was time to show them that.

Bin gettin a lot of stares since goin’ golden. They all want a piece of this gold 💪💛. Want some too bros? Hit up one of our recruiters @hades-gold19 @brodygold @hamza-goldenarab to get your kit and become your best self 4eva

A Costume Idea

Halloween had always been my favorite time of year, but this year felt different. There was an excitement in the air, something electric and unspoken, and I knew I wanted to do something big, something unexpected. My boyfriend Eric and I had always gone for the geekiest and nerdiest costumes we could think of—last year, we had dressed up as characters from our DND campaign as an example. But I wanted more this time. Something bold. Something that would turn heads at the party we were invited to.

It was a lazy afternoon in late October when I finally decided to float my idea by Eric. We were sprawled out in our small living room, surrounded by the usual chaos of comic books, snack wrappers, and game controllers. Eric was deeply engrossed in his laptop, playing a strategy game, while I fidgeted with my phone, trying to gather the courage to pitch my idea.

I cleared my throat, a little nervous. “Babe, I’ve got an idea for Halloween this year.”

Eric barely glanced up from his game, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What is it? Going as our druid and wizard pair again?”

I shook my head, grinning mischievously. “Not this time. I was thinking… football jocks.”

That got his attention. He paused his game, looking at me like I’d just suggested we shave our heads and join a cult. “Wait. Us? Football jocks?” He gave me a once-over, from my messy hair to my skinny frame. “Are you kidding?”

I laughed, knowing exactly why he was so skeptical. Neither of us were remotely athletic. We were both nerds to the core, preferring to spend our free time gaming, reading comics, or binge-watching sci-fi shows. The idea of us dressing up as sports jocks was so far outside our usual territory that it was almost absurd.

But that was exactly why I loved it.

“Hear me out,” I said, leaning in closer, my voice brimming with excitement. “Not just any football jocks. The Golden Army.”

Eric blinked, and I saw the recognition dawn on his face. The Golden Army was a famous team from a fantasy series we were obsessed with. They were the epitome of strength, loyalty, and camaraderie, their golden jerseys shining like armor in every battle on the pitch. They weren’t just players; they were legends.

Still, Eric looked uncertain. “I don’t know, Daniel… we’re not exactly… jock material. We wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“That’s the point!” I said, unable to keep the excitement out of my voice. “It’s totally out of character for us. No one will see it coming. Plus, it’s Halloween! Isn't the whole point to be someone you're not for one night? Let’s surprise everyone.” I pulled out my phone and showed him the golden uniforms I had found online. They were perfect, gleaming in the photo like they had been forged in a fantasy world.

Eric studied the picture for a moment, biting his lip. I could tell he was starting to come around, but he was still hesitant. “It feels… weird,” he said quietly, glancing at me with a half-smile. “I mean, we’re not exactly built for this.”

“We don’t have to be,” I said, nudging him playfully. “It’s just for one night. Come on, babe, we’ve done the nerd thing every year. Let’s try something new. Think about it—walking into that party, heads turning, everyone doing a double take. We’ll look like total badasses.”

Eric looked at me, his resistance softening. I could see the idea starting to take root. After a long pause, he finally sighed and smiled. “Fine, you win. Let’s do it. But if we end up looking ridiculous, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

I laughed and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “Deal.”

The next few days were a whirlwind of excitement as we waited for the uniforms to arrive. When the package finally came, I could barely contain my enthusiasm. I tore into the box and pulled them out. They were more beautiful than I had imagined. The gold practically shimmered in the light, and the detailing along the shoulders made them look like something straight out of a fantasy novel. I handed one to Eric, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning.

"Ready?" I asked, already pulling the jersey over my head.

"I guess so." Eric said, clearly more hesitant. He headed off to the bathroom to put his on.

As I continued putting the uniform on, my body developed a tingling sensation. My head started feeling fuzzy, and I could only barely focus on putting the rest of it on. When it was fully put on, I noticed some changes happening to my body.

My narrow shoulders pushed outward, widening as my chest expanded beneath the jersey. My arms, once skinny and lanky, swelled with muscle, biceps bulging. My legs, always lanky and weak, filled out, becoming thick and powerful like those of a seasoned athlete, filling out the pants nicely. My rear became a nice round bubble butt, perfect for attracting any guy I wanted. It was nice, but it terrified me. I wanted to stop it but no matter what I tried the changes kept happening.

"Babe? What's going on?" I yelled out. But Eric didn't hear me, likely on his way through his own transformation.

Next came the mental changes. My interests shifted entirely from nerd to jock. Memories of watching sci-fi movies became watching football games. Playing board games turned into playing all kinds of sports and working out to keep my body in shape. Meeting Eric on a dating app became meeting on the football team, hooking up soon after. My love for Eric became stronger than ever now that we were hot jock bros. After all, isn’t that what we always were? Both me and Eric are wide receivers, that’s right. I remember now. Eric says I’m getting dumber by the day.

Speaking of the broski, that’s when he came out of the bathroom in his uniform, the number 22 showing proudly on the front. “Ready to go to the party bro?”

I smirked at my hot boyfriend, putting the finishing touches on my face. “You know it bro!” I grabbed his ass, squeezing firmly Luke the good boyfriend I am.

“Let’s go show them how the Golden Army parties!”