The match began, and Conner was passed the ball off the tip. He passed it backwards to his centre-back, playing directly behind him on the field, but the Bulls striker, the top-scorer in the league, intercepted and fired it over the keeper’s head. Conner was aghast. He had let the team down with his first touch of the ball.
As they returned to the centre, this time his striker didn’t pass it to him. Andy tried running it down the wing, and Conner noted that he was playing really well, just like in the last game. Even still, the Bulls’ left-back muscled him off the ball with ease, and played a long pass to the striker, who expertly flicked it between Daniel’s legs. He began to accelerate towards the goal, but Conner, seeking redemption for the earlier goal which he had been partly to blame for, began running after him.
As he did, a pulse ran through his calves, propelling him further and further forward faster and faster. He quickly began to make up ground on the speedy striker. His calves began to tremble and quiver, and then grow larger out the back of his legs. A large, meaty vein sprung out, running down the middle of his calf muscle to gorge it with blood and nutrients. His calves tensed and pushed up every time he took another step, each time keeping the size they gained when they flexed and then growing more on the next flex.
Conner used his now thick, bulbous calves to propel himself feet-first at the striker, successfully slide-tackling the ball and then, using his monster calves, quickly jumping up and claiming the ball, sprinting down the pitch.
Conner crossed the halfway line, dancing past one defender by pretending to go outside him, and with a drop of his shoulder and quick burst of pace, cutting back inside, leaving him in the dust. As Conner moved, his calves moved up and down the back of his legs. The next defender lunged at him, but Conner slowed momentarily, knocked the football between the defender’s outstretched tackling leg and his trailing leg, and sprinted around him, leaving him wrongfooted behind him.
“Nuuutmeg!” cheered the Trojan’s fans.
Conner was bearing down towards the Bulls box when he was suddenly sent to the ground by a crunching slide tackle from behind. He winced in pain as he fell hard to the ground, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. The ref had no choice but to give the Bulls midfielder who had made the crunching and dangerous tackle a yellow card.
Conner stood up quickly, grabbing the ball. Andy came walking over, as the ref told Conner where to take the free from.
“Great run Conner. Do you want me to take this free and pass it forward? You’re hardly thinking of shooting, are you?”
Conner considered this quickly. I can’t shoot, this is about forty yards out. “No, I’ll pass it up. You head up the pitch, I’ll try and hit it to you.”
Andy nodded, jogging up the pitch. Conner placed the ball perfectly, taking a few steps back and standing in a stance similar to that of his idol, Cristiano Ronaldo. A few of the Bulls players noticed this and began sniggering, but Andy did his best to ignore them, keep calm, and envisage what he would try and do. Like Andy said, just pass it.
Conner knew he probably should, but another image was forming in his head, of Cristiano’s legendary free kick against Arsenal. It was coincidentally from about the exact same spot on the pitch that Conner was about to hit this free kick. Conner began to grow excited as he decided, why not shoot?
As this thought ran through his head, He felt a tingling in his quads. He groaned as his quads inflated, growing thick slabs of muscle, cut in a teardrop shape. His hamstrings and glutes also bubbled out, squeezing against his shorts, which had gone from loose to skin-tight in just a matter of seconds. As he tensed his legs, drawing in a deep breath, tears began to form in his shorts.
Conner took three short, sharp steps towards the ball, and as his huge, shredded, tree trunk-like quads finally burst through his shorts, he struck the ball with as much venomous power as he could.
Andy watched, open mouthed, as the ball flew past him at a lightning speed. The keeper had no time to even think about jumping, but he would not have been able to reach the ball as it flew directly into the right corner, at a pace that exceeded 100 miles per hour. The net literally could not have offered any resistance to the ball as it flew threw it, and travelled another 50 meters before striking a wall.
Conner’s team and the bulls both turned and stared with shock at Conner. There was silence on the side-lines as people looked at the transformation that Conner had just gone through. Standing near the halfway line was a teenager with legs that looked like they had been sculpted from marble. His shorts had been torn to shreds by quads that were wider than Conner’s waist, and all he wore was a pair of boxer shorts with a noticeably huge bulge. His boxers looked painted against his huge muscular ass, of which the bottom was just visible because his underwear was pulled so tightly by his bubble butt. His calves looked like diamonds, two heads on either side that looked like boulders that had been surgically implanted under his skin. Each muscle was covered with veins that looked like roads mapping their expansive, sweaty mass. Every inch of his tanned, deeply striated, shredded muscle was perfect in every way.
Conner raised his hands and shouted with pure joy, “FUCK YEAH.” This simple act seemed to break the trance everyone around the pitch was in, and Conner’s teammates ran towards him. Conner just stood there, legs planted steady like the tree trunks they were, arms outstretched like a stone statue, spread wide in celebration. His teammates ran into him, crowding around and shouting congratulations and celebrations. The Trojan’s supporters cheered and began chanting Conner’s name. Conner was ecstatic, but his growth was just beginning.
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