Bro’s Room 2: Jock Essence

A/N: I am immune to nostalgia, you are immune to nostalgia. Any references to anything in this story MUST be completely coincidental.

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Jed had stepped into his room, spotting a stranger in his bed, holding his basketball. Before he could even say anything, the man stammered “I-I didn’t mean to!” The cadence, the stammer, even the bit of whine, now subdued by the weight in his voice, Jed knew it well.

How many times could one person tell another, movies weren’t real? How many times could one be forced to watch Space Jam? Jed had no idea but was sure he must have been approaching the world record for it. Iker loved that movie and Jed had no one but himself to blame for it. He was the one who had to make sure his brother saw the “classics”. Especially not wanting him to think that modern Looney Tunes could even hold a candle to the Old version. Iker was hooked, just as Jed planned. He just hadn’t realized what that meant.

See Jed was an athletic guy, and his room had become his treasure trove and a testament to all the sports he’d played throughout the years. Used hockey sticks taped back together multiple times, stashed away in the closet. A scribbled over soccer ball deflated in the corner, wrestling trophies used as paper weights. The only piece of equipment stored here still in rotation was Jed’s basketball. He’d gather up some of his friends and go play hoops at their park's local black top. Iker would join them often, sitting on the side, plucking at grass under a tree's shade. Such was life when your mom couldn't hire a proper babysitter. But over the years Jed did his best trying to get Iker involved, making his friends go easier on his lil bro, lifting him up to throw shots. Iker couldn’t really muster the natural talent to keep up with the skills the older boys had cultivated, but he was always in awe. Plucking the grass wasn't him showing disinterest, it was him pretending to be disinterested so that Jed didn't feel compelled to include him.

Perhaps to anyone else it would have been obvious where this was going, but even by his own admission Jed was never a genius. He had always loved talking up how smart his younger brother was, to diss himself and his bro’s when playing ball. They were all good people who Jed would hype up to no end, but their collective grades were ass. However, Iker, having a passionate love for Space Jam, did lessen his older brother’s diss for his friends. He may have been smart, but he was still just a munchkin. 

There was one scene in the movie, where the villains’ goons, little weird monster freaks in Jed’s eyes, stealing the talent of professional players via a basketball. Iker was obsessed with that scene and was convinced his brother and his friend’s talent were infused into Jed’s basketball. It made no sense! But it was a fun big brother thing to harp on and tease Iker about. He even started playing keep away with the ball, putting it out of Iker’s reach. Easy to place it in one hand and let Iker try to jump and get it. At first it was a pretty funny joke, but the more they watched Space Jam the more Iker hyper fixated on the scene and became obsessed with having the ball. 

Got so bad, Jed one day plopped the ball in Iker’s lap. “See, it’s nothing special.” 

“Nooo, it has to be after you play with it. You haven’t played basketball in a week.”

Jed rolled his eyes at the time, not knowing where the sudden stipulations came from. Iker wouldn’t relent though. Which meant Jed let his basketball sit in his room, hoping Iker would lose interest. But today without much thought, Jed got the hankering to play some ball and went out for Saturday morning. He came back in the afternoon and tossed the ball on his bed, walking down the stairs to grab a snack. Iker could be pestering, invasive, and annoying but he was never intentionally bad. Which is why Jed never even considered the possibility Iker would sneak into his room.

Bag of chips and soda in hand, Jed never expected the sight before him. He had walked in during the final stages of the transformation, a soft glow of the ball flowing into the figure touching it. A body that was expanding bigger, pressing down his sheets heavier. The glow faded and there was just a dude there in his bed, ball in hand.

The words, “I-I didn’t mean to!” broke whatever spell Jed had been under.

“Iker?!” He whispered, closing the door. “What did you do? What happened to you?”

“The ball,” Iker spoke quietly, but his voice was so deep every word came across precise. There was no comprehending, what had happened to Iker. Jed was stunned looking at him alone. His brother looked like a fucking unit; every muscle hard trained in a gym. The backwards hat was new, but the briefs he had on certainly looked stretched out and not quite equipped for what he had now, both front and back. His face card wasn’t lacking either, jawline chiseled to the bone and lips plumper than ever. 

Jed walked over and pressed a hand to Iker’s face.100 % real flesh. His hand skimmed to Iker’s jaw and there was stubble there. Like actual burgeoning hair follicles waiting to form a proper beard. Iker had pecs, biceps, delts, abs and Jed was just running his hands all over studying it, feeling the firm hardness under the pressure of his fingers. “This is sick!”

“Told you it would work,” Iker said a bit more confidently. 

“But why did you come into my room?” Jed’s tone shifted.

Iker shrugged but Jed’s stare applied the right pressure, “Thought I heard you calling me,” His eyes shifted to the ball in his hands as he stood up off the bed. “But when I opened the door your voice and your friend's voice were coming from this, begging me to touch it.” He tossed the ball in the air catching it perfectly, “and then POOF. What'dya think? Can I play basketball without handicaps this time?” Iker winked. Jed was taken aback his little brother seemed off with the way he was talking. Not quite like a kid who had their wish come true, rather a person whose wish coming true was a forgone conclusion: arrogance. Also playing basketball with Jed’s friends? He hated to admit it, but Iker’s body looked way more skilled than Jed's group of friends. Perhaps there was some reason behind that. If all of Jed’s friends had infused some part of themselves into a ball that Iker’s body soaked up, that was way more than one person. The ball had obviously passed between various hands during a game. That meant multiple people’s, what ‘talent’… ‘essence?’ flowed into Iker at once. Though Jed certainly didn’t feel tired or drained like in the movie.

A door slammed in the house. Jed jumped. “That was mom, was she coming or going?”

“Don’ kno.” Iker scratched his chest. Jed rolled his eyes, pointing at Iker's shirt on the bed. “Get dressed.” Jed opened the door and tiptoed downstairs, all was clear, and seeing his mom pull off confirmed it. Walking back up to his room Jed was greeted by a new sight.

 

  

 

Iker’s old jersey looked like a crop top, and he hadn’t even bothered with his shorts, playing with the ball instead. His whole body flexed as he moved the basketball behind his head. Jed had to fight not to stare at the large biceps, pushing the sleeves taunt. He was in awe of Iker and needed gym tips right away.

“Can we go play ball now?” Iker bounced on his feet restlessly.

“I just got back,” Jed stated.

“I know but, we don’t need the others, Me and you. I’ll wipe the floor with you.” Iker tossed the ball in the air, spinning it off his palm before catching it and doing it again. Jed definitely caught the smugness in the words that time. Jed’s loss was clearly inevitable to Iker. But Jed couldn’t let himself get caught up on words, there was a very real issue going on with his brother. He snatched the ball from Iker's hands. 

Iker tried to steal it back, but Jed held his hand out, “No stay there. While I try to undo whatever this is.” Crossing his arms, Iker did as told but clearly pouting about it. Jess looked over every inch of the ball. A regular basketball, nothing more. He tossed it onto his bed. “Don’t” he said as Iker turned away from the ball, eyes going anywhere else in the room pretending he wasn't yearning for it.

 

 

 

Jed tried to think of a solution, but it was hard with Iker looking like a model plopped dead in the center. Face too chiseled, neck too thick, arms too strong, pecs too puffed out, waist too thin. Bulge and ass making the briefs appear even tinier, and ready to snap at the wrong movement. The legs, both thighs and calves, were stolen from roided up horses. “Geezus.” Jed muttered under his breath, almost breaking out in a sweat. He had to think. So, he had played with three other guys today, which meant what…their talent was flowing through Iker 4 times as strong. That could explain why Iker was so…developed. Like Jed was proud of his looks, but he wasn’t competing in any IBFFs soon if ever.

“Maybe if we…” Stupid fantasy logic was not his forte, that's what Iker was for, paired with Iker’s brains, probably would have given them somewhere to start. Jed watched as current Iker pulled off his shirt, feeling up his muscles. 

“Chicks are going to dig this.” His voice said dreamily. Something about his stare and speech wasn’t quite there in reality with Jed.

“Chicks? What chicks?” Jed turned around.

Iker snorted, “The ones at our school bro. Who else?”

Jed slammed his face in his hands, “We don’t go to the same school. You go to an all-boys school for smart people. Stop messing around.” 

“All boys? Pftt, as if.” Iker puffed out air. “Nah there’s no way I’d deny the babes access to all this. “Iker struck a pose, back flared, biceps curled, tongue out. Jed realized his brother looked like a jock stepped right from a movie. And the longer Jed stared at him, the more his mind had overlapping memories of what Iker was supposed to look like. The image of this jockish version imposed his image on everything but didn’t erase the previous one. The magic seemed to be as equally dumb as his brother now.

Mom was going to kill him.