Digital Joe

[Long-form commission: Joe Thuney gets digitized!]

Joe Thuney’s eyes snapped open. He sat up in bed--it was definitely his bed, he discovered as he patted down the sheets--but the room wasn’t his. In fact, it looked like there was no room.

His head spun around as he looked in all directions and saw the same thing in each: endless whiteness. He peered over the edge of the bed and saw the same endless void of light. “What… the fuck…” he said aloud. He swatted a beefy arm at where he thought ground should have been, and was satisfied when his hand clapped something. Feeling uneasy, he threw the covers back and sat upright, stomping down with one big foot.

There was a floor there--or something, at least, to stand on--so he slowly climbed out of bed and stretched his big, beefy body, rubbing a hand over his firm, hairy gut. He didn’t feel hungover, or still drunk even. He didn’t even feel a little groggy, as he would expect if he had just woken up. It almost seemed as if his first thoughts in his life were as he opened his eyes.

“Hello?” Joe asked. The white void was so endless it just swallowed the sound with no echo. He whirled around, trying to figure out if this was a prank, if he had been kidnapped, or if he was losing his mind. Where was he going to go? There seemed to be endless nothing all around him. He rubbed his eyes and turned around--his bed was gone. In its place was a door.

Joe walked a full circle around the door, studying it before opening it. It clearly went nowhere, but when he turned the knob and pulled, he saw another room on the other side--with people in it! Joe stumbled through the door, still in his pajamas, and found himself in a dimly lit martini bar. The dozen bar guests spoke in hushed conversation all around him. He put both hands over his eyes. I’m dreaming. I have to be dreaming. But when he opened them, the scene was unchanged.

“Have a seat,” said a familiar voice. Joe’s heart leapt as he saw his former teammate, Julian Edelman, seated at the bar in a fancy sports jacket. He sipped some brown liquor from a rocks glass and gestured to a stool next to him.

“Julian, what the…” Joe sat, bewildered but reassured by the appearance of his friend. “How the fuck did I get here? I’m still in my fucking pajamas!”

“Oh, yeah,” Julian said. He smiled and winked. “That better?”

Joe looked down, shocked to find himself dressed in a shirt, tie, and nice dark khakis. He ran a hand over his face--where he should have felt stubble was entirely smooth.

“What… the fuck…” Joe said. He had to be losing his mind, he thought. Maybe this was a concussion thing?

“So, I started you off in your bed because I wanted you to be comfortable,” Julian said with a smile and a flash of his dimples. “I thought this bar would be a nice place to ease you into the idea of what’s going on. Who do you want as the bartender? Gronk?”

Joe’s jaw dropped open as he suddenly noticed Rob Gronkowski’s massive form behind the bar. How had Joe not noticed him there before?

Gronk adjusted his bow tie and smirked. “You fuckers want some jager bombs?”

“Julian--”

“Order a drink and then we’ll talk,” Julian said. He nodded at Gronk’s waiting face and Joe ordered a beer.

“Fuck yeah!” Gronk said. “You want me to shotgun it? Spray it all over you?”

“Just… in a glass,” Joe said. “My heart’s pounding…”

Julian smiled again. “It’s only doing that because you expect it to. A lot of what you perceive now is just trained habits, deep grooves in your brain from your lifetime of experiences. Your brain’s actually doing a lot of work when you’re not thinking anything, interpreting all the data pouring into it as your experience of being in the world.”

Joe just blinked. Gronk said a beer down in front of him. “Here you go, fucker! Shots are on the house, by the way.”

“Go away, Gronk,” Julian said. He dismissively waved a hand in the direction of the massive tight end and Gronk vanished--one moment there was 280 pounds of athlete, then there was nothing. Joe leapt out of his chair.

“The fuck is going on?” Joe demanded. “Julian, explain what’s happening now, or…” The massive lineman clenched his thick fists, ready to punch something--maybe Julian--if his confusion wasn’t lifted soon.

“Okay okay okay!” Julian said, holding up both hands. “I’ll explain. Sit down again.”

Joe did as he was told, despite not really wanting to. The moment he was seated, he was puzzled--he hadn’t wanted to listen. He’d wanted to remain standing, but felt compelled to sit anyway, like someone else was controlling his 320 pound body.

“So what happened is this: I digitized you,” Julian said. “That whole ‘leaving the Patriots’ thing didn’t sit well with me, buddy. And I met this tech geek last month that showed me some really cutting edge, black market kind of stuff--”

“Digitized?” Joe asked. He hated how stupid he felt, and Julian’s lack of emotional involvement with this situation made him want to smash his pretty face with a beer.

“Think 3D printing in reverse,” Julian said. “I asked you if I could take your picture with my phone, you posed and smiled, and SNAP--a second later you were in my phone, just digital information now.”

Joe shook his head. “Edelman, that doesn’t… make any sense…”

“You don’t remember me doing that, do you?” Julian tapped the screen of his phone, which sat on the bar next to his drink. “Now you do.”

Joe’s eyes went wide. He’d been at the gym, still sweaty from a workout. Julian had asked him to pose for a pic. Joe had said, “Wait ‘til after my shower!” Julian took the pic anyway. There was a bright light. Joe felt like he was falling.

Then he woke up in his bed. In the white void.

“Look around,” Julian said. “Everyone in the bar is Brady now.”

Joe looked around to see two identical Tom Brady’s leaned over a couple of cocktails, deep in conversation. Another Tom Brady bit the olive off a skewer before dropping it back into his martini glass as he surveyed a room of a dozen men exactly like him. Near the door, two Tom Brady’s embraced and slow-danced, faces close as if they would passionately kiss at any minute.

“How is this… possible…” Joe said, shaking his head.

“Anything is possible. Watch this.”

Suddenly the room was empty and silent. Joe looked around, shocked and angry to be alone again. Then the bar vanished and he was back in the white void.

“See? I’m in charge here, buddy. You’re just digital information,” Julian’s voice boomed down on him. Joe clapped his hands over his ears; Julian’s voice had been deafening. He slowly gazed upward at a 200-foot tall Julian Edelman looming down at him.

“Whoops, was that too loud?” Edelman asked. “Sorry, let me modulate that.” The giant Edelman was regular-sized an instant later, standing next to Joe in the endless void.

“Julian, please, this is… fucking crazy…”

“Just go through some capabilities. Ever want a bigger dick?” Julian winked and pointed at Joe’s crotch.

The big lineman’s eyes went wide as he felt his cock grow larger and more sensitive. “Holy… fuck…” He reached down with a hairy paw and hefted a massive package, easily twice the size it had been before and spewing out heat. “Wow…” he said. The bigger organ seemed to dominate his thoughts. His panic was pushed aside by the urge to jerk off.

“Ever wonder what you’d look like as a bodybuilder?” Julian said. He tapped the screen of his phone and Joe felt his body starting to swell on all sides. His already thick muscular body, built from decades of powerlifting and dominating the football field, suddenly felt sore and swollen. He watched as the fat drained from his physique--his hard belly pulling back into ripped, veiny abs while his face solidified into a meaty block--before his muscles all started to rise like baking bread.

“Holy shit, imagine having you on the team at this size!” Julian said when the transformation had finished. Joe felt as wide as he was tall, nearly five lateral feet of muscle. He shivered, running a hand over his rock-hard, unyielding physique. He didn’t want to believe it, but it was real--he was bigger than any bodybuilder he’d ever seen in his life and he felt his body surging with power.

“I can’t believe this is happening…” Joe whispered as he stared down at a shelf of pec meat that obscured his view of his recently enlarged dick. He alternated flexing each giant melon of muscle, watching the solid meat crunch up and bulge before dropping down again. “Holy fuck, this is real, isn’t it?”

“Well, no,” Julian said. “No the way you’re thinking. Like I’m not really here, I just cooked up this little avatar so I could chat with you in a way that makes sense. You don’t want me booming at you like the voice of god again, do you?” Julian smiled like he’d just told a clever joke. Joe was so blown away by what had happened to him that he couldn’t say much in response.

“What’s the point of all this?” Joe said.

“Well, originally it was going to be just to change your mind about the Patriots,” Julian said as he walked around his newly forged muscle titan. He reached out and slapped a cement-solid lat. Hand against dense meat made a thunderclap in the void. “Big fella! You’re amazing like this. I bet it feels awesome.”

“Change my mind?” Joe said. What the fuck was wrong with Edelman? He didn’t have to take this shit: even compared to his formally enormous offensive lineman self, he was a true behemoth now! He reached down and grabbed Julian by his thin arms and hoisted him off the ground. He felt like he weighed nothing. “What do you mean change my mind?”

Julian, held three feet off the ground, just smiled at Joe. “You’re slower at this than I thought you would be. Here’s a quick little lesson for you, big guy,” Julian said. He snapped his fingers.

An invisible force hit Joe, knocking him backward. When he sat up, he found that all of his muscle was gone. The body he looked down on was entirely unfamiliar to him: he saw pale, bony arms, a chicken-sized ribcage and tiny hands and feet. “What the fuck?” Joe said again, but the voice that came out was shrill and high-pitched. He looked up at Julian, who shrugged and extended a hand.

Joe gasped as Julian easily yanked him off the ground. He found himself staring into Julian’s chest. “What did you do to me?”

“I just took away all your muscle,” Julian said. “See, out there--in the real world--I’m looking at a menu with a bunch of sliders. I just turned off all your size, strength, masculinity… basically everything that made you the big grizzly bear I used to love having on the field with me. The lesson is: all that muscle I gave you before? Can be taken away just as easily. Same with your dick.”

At Julian’s mention, Joe looked down. He only wear tiny white briefs now. He patted the front and gasped at the tiny nub he felt within.

“You know, many fully-grown men without your genetic advantages do plenty well at that size,” Julian said with a shrug. “If you want, I could make you think you’d always been that way.”

“No you couldn’t,” Joe denied.

“Oh yeah?” Julian snapped his fingers. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s--” He had no idea. His brain hit a wall when he tried to recall it. He knew he had a name, it was just… Julian had said it earlier, hadn’t he? Of course he had a name. Who doesn’t have a name? Joe winced as he realized he couldn’t recall it.

“Okay, I reactivated that memory,” Julian said, as Joe blurted out, “--JOE!”

“Are you ready to cooperate with me?” Julian said. “Because now that I have you in there, I want to have some fun.”

“I don’t want to have fun,” Joe said, gesturing down at his scrawny body, easily half the body mass of the Julian’s slim athletic build. “I want to be normal again! Back on the team, in the locker room, playing football where I belong!”

“You want to be back in the locker room?” Julian said, tilting his head, his eyes going wide. “Great idea.”

He didn’t even snap his fingers this time.

The smell hit Joe first: the humid, masculine fog of his teammates, heated by the showers. He whirled around, shocked to find himself back in the Patriot’s locker room right in front of his own locker. It looked unfamiliar at first, however: he was still in his scrawny body and everything seemed twice the size it should have been. He looked down to see his little briefs had been replaced by a Patriots-themed jockstrap, size XXS. He felt humiliated to be so small and scrawny and exposed in that place.

Joe panicked when he heard large bodies coming and felt the tremors in the floor as their massive bodies stomped his way. He darted as fast as his scrawny legs would carry him--his gait thrown off, since he was used to having thick thighs without a massive gap between them--and moaned when he crashed face first into a hairy lineman’s chest. He tumbled to the ground and put his hands over his head as he heard the giant men thundering around him. He expected to be trampled to death; gratitude washed over him as the huge feet stomped past him. He shut his eyes, hoping they would just leave him alone, but several pairs of large hands grabbed him and held him aloft.

Like he was crowd-surfing, little Joe was carried aloft by this crowd of his teammates. He couldn’t even look down to see who was doing it. He begged them to put him down but they just laughed at his high-pitched voice. He cried out when they tossed him into the showers, moaning as he bounced along the cold tiled floor. The crowd immediately retreated, leaving him alone.

“This shouldn’t hurt,” he said, the wind knocked out of him. He tried to remember what Julian had said: this wasn’t really happening. It only hurt because he had expected it to. Technically, in here (wherever “here” was) he couldn’t be harmed.

“You can be deleted, however,” boomed Julian’s voice. Joe looked around but couldn’t see his “friend” anywhere. “Just so you know, I can see everything you’re thinking, so it’s no use trying to come up with a scheme. You just have to see this through, big man.”

Joe balled up his little fists and beat them ineffectively against the shower floor. When he stood, he was shocked to find he wasn’t alone: two other men were behind him, facing away. They had appeared so silently that Joe wondered if Julian had just zapped them in. Each was about the same size as he was: 5 feet tall, barely a hundred pounds, as scrawny and narrow as he found himself. “H-hello?” Joe said, hating how wimpy his voice sounded.

The two men turned and Joe’s jaw dropped: he didn’t recognize their bodies, but their faces were unmistakably Rob Gronkowski and Danny Amendola.

“Is it… is it really you guys?” Joe asked, cautiously approaching them. He couldn't believe how little and frail they looked--just as little and frail as he was, he reflected with a pit in his stomach--but he was most surprised when he threw his bony arms around them and pulled them in for a hug.

“He made you small too?” Gronk said in a voice just as high-pitched as Joe’s.

“God, I thought I was the only one here,” Danny said. The three little waifs suddenly clasped hands. Their NFL athlete brains screamed to let go--men didn’t hold hands--but their diminutive bodies needed the comfort to dispel their feeling of powerlessness, something none of the men was at all familiar with.

The ground shook as new gigantic footfalls came their way. “Holy fuck!” Joe said aloud. “Who the fuck is that?”

Gronk smiled. “It’s weird. I don’t know how I know who it is, but I do.” He folded his skinny hands in front of his own tiny Patriots jockstrap and stood at attention, his bony chest presented proudly.

“Yeah, I don’t know why, but I’m… really excited to see him. Even after everything he did to us. It’s like… fuck, I’m HORNY for him!” Danny started lightly hopping in place.

The man who suddenly appeared at the shower entrance was enormous, almost as big as Joe had been earlier, but not quite as absurdly muscular. Joe stared up at a seven-foot-tall Julian Edelman whose body was built like an American Gladiator.

“Good god,” Joe said--more shocking than Julian’s appearance (and the massive swinging dick between his legs) was the fact that Joe was actually salivating for him! It really was true; Julian had altered his mind. Suddenly Joe craved gigantic Julian’s body. He wanted to taste every inch of him. He wanted to breathe in Julian’s manly stink. So many times he’d stood next to him in a locker room and smelled his powerful musk--why had he never appreciated it so much until now?

Joe ran forward as if he were possessed. Julian raised a powerful arm and revealed a deep musclepit, crowned by a tuft of hair. Joe pressed his face in it, desperate to taste Julian as much as he could. Meanwhile, Danny had wrapped his limbs around Edelman’s huge leg (which was far thicker than any lineman’s Joe had ever seen), grinding his little dick against the rippling muscle. Gronk fell to his knees and stared up at the god, reaching up at the big pendulous balls swinging before him before nuzzling his face into them, cooing as he kneaded the velvety skin with his hands.

“That’s it, men,” Julian said, and the rumble of his voice was like an erotic massage to each of his tiny minions. “This is the image I want burned into your brains. I am your god. You don’t have a sexual desire in the universe--only a desire to worship me. No matter what your bodies look like, this is always how you’ll feel in my presence: small, insignificant, submissive and desperate to please me.”

The three men moaned in chorus as they all undulated against him. Joe felt a load fire out of him, hands free, just from the taste of his God’s pits. His body shook as his little dick shot out a pathetic dribble before giving giant Edelman the tongue bath he deserves.

“Very nice,” massive Edelman said. “Good slaves. I think you boys have earned your freedom back. Let’s bring you back to the real world--but this image,” he said, nodding down at the three scrawny men voraciously grinding against his enormous form, “will be your prime directive from now on. Every thought you have grows from this.” His worshippers could hardly respond, they were so in the throes of ecstasy of being in contact with their master. “Perfect. All right, boys, back to reality.”

* * *

It was several minutes before Joe realized that it was dark. His face was buried in Julian’s armpits--but now he was horizontal, and in a bed.

It took him considerable effort to pry his face away from the glorious scent. He gazed around the dimly lit room and tried to process the scene: they were in Edelman’s condo, on his king-sized bed. Danny Amendola was straddling Julian’s lean athletic leg, grinding his hips back and forth, while Gronk swallowed Edelman’s balls whole, jerking Edelman’s cock with his big mitt.

Each of them was the size they always had been: powerfully built athletes, Joe tipping the scales as the biggest with Gronk right behind him, Julian and Danny almost half the size of the bigger men but all larger and heartier than average, by a longshot.

They had been small before--hadn’t they?--and Edelman had been big… but that image faded away like a dream. Julian suddenly grabbed big Joe in a headlock and licked along his face as he came, firing ropes across Gronk’s hopeful face. The big tight end tried to catch as much of the load in his mouth as he could. Joe felt his own big lineman cock fire off a healthy amount of cum into Juilan’s sheets. He gasped, realizing he would have to clean it and may get reprimanded for making a mess, but it was a relief to realize that Gronk and Danny had all cum at the same time.

“Don’t worry about it,” Edelman said, panting, as he patted Joe’s bearded face. “Showertime, boys.”

The three big athletes trailed dutifully behind Edelman as he headed into his massive dual-shower. The three waited outside the door for an invitation.

“Come on in, men,” Julian said with a smile. “Wash up good old Edelman, would you?”

Joe was delighted to squeeze some bodywash into his hands and lather up Edelman’s tight, ripped frame. Sometimes he felt like he could only be happy while he was in contact with Julian. Life apart from Julian seemed so dull and empty.

“So, Joe,” Julian said as Gronk carefully scrubbed Edelman’s abs as Danny soaped up his inner thighs, “how do you feel about signing with the Patriots again?”

“I’ll go wherever you go,” Joe said breathlessly. His heart melted as Julian pulled the massive lineman in for a kiss. Just from the feel of Julian’s tongue searching his mouth, Joe came again.

“That’s a good boy,” Julian said as the other two stared on jealously.

And that was it. Joe never realized that anything was different. In front of others, all of them acted as the same rowdy teammates they were known to be, but in private, Joe was eager to drop to his knees to worship Edelman in any way he could. He never remembered things being different: serving Julian was what he was born to do, and he had never felt complete until the beautiful men had given him the opportunity.

Their time digitized within Julian’s phone was wiped from the memory, by his design. And in the future, if he needed to make some adjustments, he could just as easily rearrange their minds so their current reality was always the correct one. But truly, none of the men had ever been happier.