Jocksid

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Fuck Buddy

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

*Read more about Junho in “The Player” on Amazon

“Dude, get in here and let me play with that ass.”

Mark’s flawless Korean fuck buddy Junho is soaped up and ready to get down. His girl’s out shopping for her next Instagram fit, so that gives Mark and Junho plenty of time to fool around at his place.

“Oh, you topping today, bro,” says Mark.

“Yeah, if you’re good. You good, right, bro?”

“Always ready, don’t worry. But romance a bro first before you go straight for the ass, come on.”

“Shit, sorry, dude!

Mark loves kissing his boys. It’s a 50/50 split – which fuck buddy does/doesn’t kiss. Junho, no problem. Bro’s totally down-the-line bisexual and will fuck any hot thing that moves. And Mark’s full-gay bros love to lock lips. He can have some good, long make-out sessions with them – slow and sensual; lips locked in permanent pressure, not releasing them even for a second until the moment’s passed.

His other bros, though… It’s a funny thing. A lot of closeted men will stick their tongue deep into Mark’s asshole before they’d stick it in his mouth. Kissing is often the final frontier. The last step before some kind of sexual catharsis. Most men don’t wanna take that step.

Pity.

At least Mark has his bro-sluts to keep him company.

“Can I fuck you now, bro?” says Junho after a ten minute kissing/petting/frotting sesh.

The answer is always yes.

See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

The Message

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Clayton is one of Mark’s regular lays. He’s come to expect blowjobs on demand. He just gives Mark a look – a piercing, masculine gaze – and Mark gets down. He doesn’t need to say anything. Mark gets the message.

Mark wrote the message.

This is what Mark wants. For his sexual services to be so normal that he can just do it. No questions asked. No tedious homophobic defenses necessary.

It only goes down like this when Clayton is scrambling to reclaim the power. Usually, he’s so beholden to Mark’s abilities that he melts like putty in Mark’s presence. All it takes is a cheeky wink from Mark, and Clayton chubs up. His thoughts divert from weight lifting to dick sucking. On the one hand, that’s not hard. These bros are sex-ready with nowhere to go. On the other hand… Clayton’s straight.

Or

He pretends to be. Fuck knows. It’s not really Mark’s business. But clayton had been a hard nut to crack. It took weeks of flirting and cajoling before Clay finally gave in. Once he did, though, the floodgates came down. He bust his load in Mark’s mouth, ran away, and was back two days later for a second go. That was faster than most of the bros.

And now he’ll take a blowie as often as he can. From what Mark can tell – cause all his gym bros get very vulnerable with him once he’s taken their dick for the tenth time – Clay has stopped fucking his girl. The head is too good. He doesn’t need her to get off now.

And of course, Mark loves that.

The message is clear – Mark is always ready to serve. So don’t be shy. Use him good, use him hard, use him often. That’s what he’s there for.

See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Breeder Cum

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

CW: F-slur, internalized homophobia

Married, four kids, good job, you know the drill. Doesn’t stop him treating Mark’s fuckhole like a disposable flashlight; good to be thrown in the bin once it’s dripping with his breeder cum. And Mark lets him. For a man like that, there’s not much Mark wouldn’t do.

He’s called Pat, but Mark wants to call him Daddy. He tried it once, and Pat got real pissy. Took Mark’s jaw in his big hand and told him to never call him that again. Mark obeyed. He wasn’t gonna anger a tanked, defensive roidhead for no reason. Still, in his mind, Pat was Daddy.

And to Pat, Mark was faggot. Mark didn’t let just any man call him that. If a gym bro was on his level – on equal footing of masculinity and muscularity – then he wouldn’t allow it. Any gym bro who called him that would be getting a clap back, and Mark was a strong man. But Pat wasn’t on Mark’s level. He was on the next rung up. He was an alpha. Mark wasn’t ashamed to admit it. He recognized their different spheres of manhood, and he respected it. Pat was more of a man than he was.

For men like this – hypermasculine alphas with homosexual ideation – homophobia is often the only way they can square their conflicting feelings. He believes being gay is decadent and feminizing, but he feels drawn to men in a way that goes beyond platonic camaraderie. He wants masculinity. He wants intimacy. These ideas are at war – at least in Pat’s mind.

The better angels of Mark’s nature tell him that he’s helping Pat come to terms with his demons. That he’s showing Pat it’s possible to be a hypermasculine alpha, and truly enjoy the company of men. But the selfish, sordid, dark recesses of Mark’s desire don’t want Pat to overcome his internalized homophobia and find open, liberated comfort in homosex. They want Pat to remain closeted, and frustrated, and homophobic. Because when Pat fucks his breeder cum into Mark’s perfect pussy in a rage of homophobic shame, Mark orgasms like with no one else.

Even my shameless, confident good boi Mark struggles to sweep that one under the rug.

See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Bottoming

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Mark treating one of his regulars to his first bottoming experience. Ryan was deep in the closet and had heavily resisted Mark’s flirtations and advances. But eventually he fell. They all did.

It was blowjobs at first; then Mark convinced Ryan to fuck his ass. Wasn’t too hard, actually. Mark’s ass is legendary. Then, of his own volition, Ryan sucked Mark back.

Weeks later, and Ryan was dropping hints he wanted to get fucked. Mark showed him the joy of getting rimmed, and ever since, bro got more and more ass-focused. Obsessed. He’d send Mark messages at one in the morning of a peach emoji and a crying face. Looking for a bro to rim him, but no bros available. Poor bro.

Mark took the hint. He’s an observant boi, my Mark. With a hobby like his, you have to be. So he spared Ryan the embarrassment of asking to bottom, and took charge.

Mark tends to bottoms: mainly cause most of his bros want to top… or are unwilling not to. You know, cause bottoming’s “too gay”, or “too fem”. Some genuinely prefer to top. Bottoming isn’t for everyone, and you can’t shame a man for that. But Mark puts himself at a man’s service, and that means he’ll give dick just as readily as he’ll take it. He is the ultimate good boi.

So one day, in the showers of Sparta, Mark made his intentions plain. Ryan didn’t say anything, he just nodded. Bro wanted this so fucking bad. Mark kissed him calm, then worked down his back until he was confronted with Ryan’s perky, pretty ass.

Kiss. Kiss.

Mark would ease him in with a rimjob, seeing how he loved that. Then, he’d get the dicking down. And Ryan would love that, too. Bros like Ryan were made for taking dick, though they’d never admit it. Mark had been around the block too many times; he knew how these guys worked.

Ryan wanted to embrace his homosexual urges to their zenith. Ryan wanted a safe space, and a safe pair of hands to do that. Ultimately, Ryan wanted to know true androphilia: sexual intimacy with another man. But he felt restrained – by society, by upbringing, by himself. Ryan was just another closeted gym bro; this is what they’re like.

See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Side-eye

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Often how it begins. A flirty side-eye in the locker room. If a bro’s amenable, fun shenanigans occur. Otherwise, Mark gets a dodgy look and bro moves to the other side of the room. Occasionally he gets a black eye. Usually it’s the first, but it’s all part of the hunt. Sometimes, the prey gets the better of him.

Mark started coming to gyms when he was 18, and now, at 28, he’s a pro. He’s honed his craft and his confidence in the locker room. Learning about men, and how to be a man himself; learning about sex and how to bring pleasure to others; and learning about muscle and how to build the type of body he wants to fuck. Gyms are his holy place, and locker rooms his favorite part; the warm, sacred center of his place of worship.

Mark’s well-practiced on these kinds of interactions. If he feels the good vibe – the energy that says “Ya, bro, I’m buying” – then he gives the guy a look. A sultry but subtle gaze that goes beyond anything one of his bro-bros could offer. Then his eyes travel south and give the dude an overt stare of his crotch. All the better if dude’s swinging free. Mark often struts around locker room’s naked. He loves his body, and has no shame. He likes it when other dudes meet him where he is.

And then…? Then, it’s whatever you imagine. Mark grabs the dude’s free cock and gets in close, breathing hard on the guy’s heavily-scented neck. Mark goes right to his knees and swallows the bro’s burgeoning manhood whole – completely owning the dude’s desires in a matter of seconds. Or maybe Mark entices him into a bathroom stall for some privacy. He bends down and opens up his pre-prepped pussy for the bro to take full advantage of everything Mark has to offer.

All of that and more. For Mark is a whore, and whore’s are kings of desire.

And it all starts with an innocent side-eye.

See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

My Boi Mark

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

My boi Mark.

Mark’s a slut, a whore, a home-wrecker, a cocksucker, a fag, a good boi. He’s out, he’s proud, he’s confident as sin, and he always gets what he wants. It’s just a matter of finding the right angle.

And what he wants is masculine men. He’s a masc-chaser. He surrounds himself with masculine aesthetics and manly energy. That’s what gets him off, what sets him off, what pounds his heart and addles his brain. To Mark, there’s nothing sexier than an unabashedly masculine man reveling in his own virility. Marc does the same. He doesn’t just want masc, he is masc. Only elevated. He dresses well, smells good, looks damn fucking good. He wears color and sparkly shit, or else not very much at all. It’s to show off his man’s body – all muscle, chest hair and swinging cock. He’d say fem guys need not apply, but he’s not quite so exclusionary as that. He just has a very powerful preference.

And Mark’s a pro. You’ll find him on FortheFans, posting his latest nudes or jerk-videos or dildo fun. He’s yet to do anything with other guys, though. Crossing the line into outright pornstar is a big leap, and he’s doing just fine with his teasing, tantalizing shows. Fine enough to afford a swank pad in Brooklyn. My boi Mark has expensive tastes.

And what does he do with his glut of free time? He spends it at Warriors of Sparta; an elite gym filled with hot, muscular, masculine men who are always looking to get off. And Mark gets them off. He tops them, he bottoms for them; he sucks them, he fucks them; he worships their bodies, or lets them worship his. He’s got that gym wrapped around his finger, along with dozens of bros who he’s wrangled into his sexual maelstrom.

And it’s all Mark’s little secret.

So don’t tell their wives. Or boyfriends. Or bros.

Or do. Could be fun.

See what Mark’s about here, and read about his adventures here.

Buy his stories here

Boys Will Be Boys

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

“Come on, bro. And don’t pussy out.”

The jocks at the frat are punching each other in the stomach. Just cause. They needed a game to play, and somehow this is what they fell into. Boys will be boys. It’s difficult to grasp why young, immature men who are filled with testosterone make choices. Especially when their dicks are locked nice and snug, as the jocks’ are.

Coach watches them in the camera. He has all his habitats under constant surveillance. The jocks need watched 24/7. It’s important to ensure compliance to masculine orthodoxy. Coach watches the boys punch each other in the gut – some inane pissing contest – and he jacks his huge dick.

Coach understands why they’re doing it. They’re doing it because they’re boys. And boys will be boys. And this pleases Coach greatly. The more his jocks conform to unthinking masculinity and groupthink, the better they will be as both a Team and as jocks, on and off the field.

He imagines they’ll start wrestling soon. They usually do. Whatever it takes to get them tuckered out for sleep. You’d think the 2 hours in the gym and 3 hours of sports they get daily would be enough, but these are ultra high-T alphas whose minds are surrendered to groupthink. It takes a lot to wear them out.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

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By Example

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Coach teaches by example. That’s why you’ll find him in the gym twice a day, everyday, and wearing appropriate attire. The jocks have gotta learn.

It’s hard for the boys to imagine their Coach as anything other than the masculine stalwart he is. Forty-odd, fifty-odd; huge, rugged, strong; the authoritative patriarch; sexually unassailable. But he was young once, he was a jock once. All coaches start as jocks. That time when they were spry and youthful and full of a boy’s mischief and charm.

Coach Schmidt was one of those jocks who knew from an early age that he was gonna go on to form his own tribe. He wanted to be a coach. He looked up to his own coach with intense awe. Once he graduated from his coach’s program and became a full-fledged jock, he went to the military. He needed to be in an ultra-masculine space; the sort of space that made him hot and excited, yet safe and happy. The military honed his machismo further and gave him command of a group of young men. When he returned to civilian life, he was ready to become a coach.

And so he got set-up at a college far from his own coach so as not to have conflict, then got to work building his Team of jocks. Just as his own coach did.

And now there’s over fifty people in his tribe; assistant coaches, jocks, bulls, cheerbois and runts. He’s rich and prosperous; his program is perfect; he has endless access to cocky jocks and beautiful cheerbois to keep his dick wet. But this empire takes work and determination to keep. That’s reflected in his body. A coach’s body is his empire, symbolically. He must be the biggest and strongest jock on the squad. He must lead by example.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

To Indulge Their Femininity

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Coach is an extreme androphile. When he’s training his jocks or bulls, he demands all of his boys conform to masculine orthodoxy. However, he recognizes that the men he singles out for his cheerleading track are not like the other boys, and he’s happy for them to indulge their femininity. To a point.

He doesn’t let them dress in pleated skirts, much less bras or make-up or heels. They are, in fact, dressed much like his jocks; jockstraps, baseball caps, sports socks, nothing else. Their full cheer uniform is similar, only with added booty shorts and crop tops. And they’re not pink – maroon and white, with roaring grizzlies on the butt of the pants. All in honor of Coach and his tribe. But here, in the privacy of Coach’s bedroom, he indulges them the feminine lure of pink.

Coach does enjoy seeing his cheerleaders frolicking on the bed; dicks caged, asses ready, titillating, deferential, submissive, and happy to please the men on the Team in whatever way they want. They’re here for support; that is the job of a cheerleader. Whether on the pitch, cheering on his boys to make the winning touchdown, or in the locker room afterwards embarrassing themselves on jock dick while they flaunt their asses in their tiny little cheer shorts, lips pouting and moist, eyes pleading yet innocent, the lust for their masculine older brothers offensively obvious.

Coach is forever conscious of the threat that femininity poses. It’s why he doesn’t let his jocks interact with women, except as sex objects when they’re out of chastity, or in porn. Women can never be friends, lovers or confidants. Too much risk that they will slither into jockboi’s mind and poison it against Coach’s masculine temple. He doesn’t let the cheerbois adopt a fully feminine perspective – even though some, at least, are of that temperament – because he worries about the same thing. That their femininity will somehow reduce the masculinity of his jocks.

He really has nothing to fear. Cheerleaders look with awe and lust at their jock brothers, but the jocks see their little cheerleader brothers as nothing but cute bois to protect, and puffy pussies to fuck. The cheerleaders have no influence, no power. They couldn’t undermine a jock’s masculinity, even if they wanted to. And they most certainly don’t want to! No one is more attracted to the bro-ish machismo of the jocks than the cheerleaders. And Coach knows this, and accepts this, and thus is happy for his bois to indulge their femininity. To a point.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Two Whole Days of Freedom

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Coach gave his jocks the weekend off from their program. No gym, no chastity, no jock-files, no Team practice, no jock bonding, nothing. They had two whole days of freedom.

But what does freedom mean to a jock who has been successfully programmed? He could go to a party, or zone out to some video games, or hook up with anyone who’d have him, or just goon out to porn. But none of that comes to mind. Jockboi isn’t following the program because Coach has him in chains. He does it because he can’t imagine not doing it. Jockboi uses his two days off to go to the gym, listen to his jock-files, have intimate bonding sessions with his jock brothers, and practice his throwing.

This weekend was a test, and a test the jocks pass perfectly. If they had chosen, of their own free will, to pursue an agenda not related to their jockification, then Coach would have seen that as a personal failure. A failure he would remedy through a more intense program and harsh spankings. But he had nothing to fear. The jocks chose their jocklife. They didn’t have to think about it. So well programmed they are that as soon as jockboi woke up, he ate his Coach-approved breakfast, drank his jock juice, grabbed his bag and hit the gym. And then he was out on the pitch with his bros, cap back, passing the ball. Why the fuck would a jock wanna be anywhere else, thinks jockboi. Two whole days of freedom mean nothing in the face of his perfect conditioning.

Jockboi is a slave to the program. And in his slavery, he has found true freedom.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Champion

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Look at this champion. It’s the eve of his graduation. Tomorrow he’ll be permanently uncaged by Coach. His dick will be free and with it, he will be free to live his life how he chooses. He sends another flexing video to Coach. Coach didn’t ask him to, tell him to; jockboi just wants to. It feels right.

Jockboi’s been on the program for four years. He started a scrawny, shy nerd. Besides a couple of awkward handjobs in highschool, he’d never been with a man. Then he was pulled into the world of his would-be mentor, who brought him to Coach, who saw the potential, and how got him started on the path to becoming a champion.

Tomorrow, that path will be complete. Coach has spent four years moulding him. Nightly jock files that have warped his mind in the interests of masculine orthodoxy and jock groupthink. Daily gym sessions to hone his body into the artefact of masculine excellence it has become. A caged cock to control his sexuality until it’s exactly to Coach’s liking. And immersion in an intimate brotherhood, the Team, with whom he shares everything and would sacrifice everything.

When he graduates, jockboi will pursue his own destiny. Endless paths will be open to a man of such strength, grace and confidence. Coach will support him in what he does, so long as jockboi continues to be a proud member of his tribe within Jock Nation. Jockboi will always have a home with Coach and his boys, his Team. And jockboi will be sorely missed if he chooses to leave.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Transformed

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

One year in the program and jockboi is transformed. His friends, family, professors – they don’t recognize him. Gone is the shy, flabby boy who exceled at math and loved Star Wars. In his place is a muscled up, dumbed down jock bruh with no thoughts but lifting, fucking, sports, and bros, bros, bros.

And you owe it all to Coach. It’s like he brought you out the darkness and showed you the light. He sparked something in you, a passion and lust that you’d never known before. Coach explained this. It’s the jock mindset. Normies – betas – they live in black and white. An orgasm feels good, but that’s it. It’s here and then it’s gone. But for a jock, an orgasm is cosmic, and everything else is orgasmic. Everything from eating a cheeseburger to taking a shit, scoring a goal or wrestling a bro takes on a sexual thrill. His nerve-endings are sharp, his sensations are intense; the world is in Technicolor and it’s all because of his jock mindset.

That’s what it means to be transformed. To go from normie to jock, from beta to alpha. It’s not just that you now have a hot body and aching balls, it’s that the world shines where before it flickered. And jocks want to have an impact on that world. They want to leave a mark, to have people turn their heads to look. So jockboi sheds his tank and watches himself the way he knows other people watch him, and the way he knows other people should watch him. The jock mindset is a glorious thing.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Check-in Time

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Your check-in time was over, and you’d put on another pound of muscle during the week. Now it was time for you to get some bonding in with the old man.

He might have you chew on his nipples, or else lap at his balls, or suck his dick, or just worship his glorious manliness. He’d never give you his cum though. Coach may be a superman, but he has a lot of jocks, and a lot of check-ins, and even he can’t cum ten times a day. But he’d give you what he could, cause he’s like a father to his jocks, and a father always provides.

Check-ins were a thrilling part of your week. To spend thirty minutes alone with the legend himself. His invasive, brutish hands studying your body in detail. Massaging every muscle to see what’s growing and what’s lagging behind. No stone unturned, no part of your body left unexamined. It was at once uncomfortable and deeply arousing. To be given such attention from someone you admired so much.

Coach wouldn’t cum at these check-ins, but you would, if you were out of chastity. Coach would make you bro-out in front he mirror, egging you on to show off and be cocky while he fondled your dick and balls. When he told you to bust your load and show your jock seed, you’d do it on cue. So ready to blow as you always were, and completely attuned to his command after months or years of his voice in your ear every night, listening to the jock files and falling deeper and deeper into jockhood.

Check-in time wasn’t the best time with Coach. No, that came roughly once a month when it was your turn to share his bed for the night and be utterly cunted by his huge cock. But second to that treat, check-ins were your favorite part of the week.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Dream Come True

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

You felt so privileged to be one of coach’s cheerleaders. A dream come true. The jocks and bulls all treated you like their younger brother. They watched out for you, protected you, covered for you.

You loved going out to lunch with them – the bulls stuffing back six burgers with extra fries, the jocks with their large portions of chicken, rice and broccoli, you and your cheer brothers with your salad and grilled chicken – and knowing without asking that they were gonna pay for you. You’d sit on one of the bull’s laps while they told dirty stories and laugh along as he casually slipped his hand in your slutty shorts and fondled your puffy pussy.

Or you loved being invited to the frat for a jock night in. The boys getting drunk and high, having burping competitions and playing Mario Kart, while you and the cheerbois served food and drinks and kept morale up by decrying how great and manly your jock brothers were. Sometimes, a jock would just pick you up and slam you on the sofa, or else bend you over a chair. Their dicks are locked away, so they can’t fuck, but they’re all tops, and they all want your pussy, and so they go through the motions of fucking you. And though you’re sad they can’t actually rut you, you love them for wanting to.

You always thought they felt a bit sorry for you. Like, you must be upset you couldn’t measure up to their masculine greatness. But you didn’t think that way at all. You felt profoundly happy to be at the service of these jocks and bulls: to be an available and generous bottom for them to play with. You especially loved the bulls. Total tops, aggressive, toxic, but deeply affectionate towards you. To be a sexual outlet for one of their daily milkings was a dream come true.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Fully Jocked

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Fully jocked the fuck out. Bro here in his room at the dorm with everything he needs.

His sneakers cleaned and close-by, ready to be slipped on once bro is safe in his strap, and is wearing a sexy pair of shorts (the sluttier the better). Coach needs his boys ready for activity. Gym is a daily grind – 2 hours minimum for any citizen of Jock Nation – but they need to also be ready to play, run, jump, throw and wrestle. Beyond their regulation uniforms when they are training for the Team, the jocks should be dressed like they spend all day outside, playing sports and goofing off. Cause they do. Cause Coach says they do. Coach wants his boys tired and sweaty and strong. They’re like a pack of puppies he’s trying to wear out.

And so his backpack is ready to go for his morning gym sesh – it’s got spare shorts and straps and shoes in it, just in case (a jock will never be comfortable without his uniform), his morning jock juice (a roid-infused concoction of protein), and his gym accoutrements to help him push his limits (back brace, wrists bands etc).

His headphones are there so he can listen to his jock file before he goes to sleep – a jock’s daily conditioning that reminds him what he is, why he is, and who he is for. Coach has all his boys on the same files, feeding them the same propaganda, in order to make them the same. The headphones are also for listening to Coach-approved “jock music” – mainly rock and heavy metal interspersed with the guttural sounds of men fucking. When no music or file is playing, the headphones just release a constant background noise of bro-sounds relayed in perfect bro-voice: “Bruh” “Dood” “Huhuh” “Fuck yeah” “Fuuu~” So joosy dood” “Need to bust bro” “Love that shit”. If jockboi is ever feeling lost or lonely, he can slip those headphones on and be lulled to sleep with the comforting sounds of his brothers.

And of course his cap, cause bro’s so jock he sleeps capped. The cap is everything. It is the symbol of his membership in Coach’s tribe (black cap with a maroon grizzly on the front) and so sets him apart from the normies. But it’s also just the proof that he is jock. It’s fitted on backwards like all good jocks because that’s how good jocks wear their caps. He’s ready to catch a ball, lift a dummie, puff out his lips, stick out his tongue, kiss the bros, and suck Coach’s dick. The jocks have a special sensitivity to when Coach adjusts their caps when they’ve got his huge dick in their mouths.

And his room and bed are perfect jock as well. Nothing fancy or adorned – white sheets for a clean-cut jock. But you know that bed is sticky with cum stains from his constant leaking and wet dreaming. He’s in chastity, so he can’t jack freely, but he’s inconsolably horny and his rich jock balls have no other option but to leak.

The room has a heady, powerful smell. It stinks from the jock sweat, jock cum and jock farts, but it’s also pleasant from the powerful deodorant and cologne the boys wear to smell as masculine as possible. It creates an atmosphere that to the jocks and bulls feels like home, to the cheerleaders feels safe, to the runts feels worshipful and to Coach feels just right.

Bro is fully jocked. This is the where the program leads.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Progress Photo

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

One of coach’s cheerleaders sending in his progress photo for the week. Exactly as coach asked him to. Hidden within those perfectly waxed cheeks is a bloated, puffy, rose-pink pussy that has been trained and trained until it’s ready for anything.

The cheerleaders are the perennial little brothers of Jock Nation (little sisters, depending who you ask), and are treated with a level of affection befitting their place. The jocks and bulls are taught to care for their cheerleaders like they’re fragile things. Delicate, almost sacred. And yet, they are ultimately holes. The cum dumps of Jock Nation.

It’s another paradox of Coach’s – like putting all his jocks in chastity while building them up as tops, or raising his bulls as gay while having them breed pussy – that his cheerleaders should be coddled and demure and protected, and yet be totally immersed in the masculine vulgarity that Coach relentlessly drills into his boys. The liberated, crude and sometimes barbaric words and deeds that come as easily to the jocks as their boners, fist bumps and goofy smiles.

It’s a fine line. There’s nothing demure about being the on-call fucksleeve of a 300lb brute who stops eating only long enough to take a pussy, take a nap, or take a shit (and sometimes not even then), and yet there is something demure in the way that a cheerleader holds himself while he serves. Cause serve he does. Cheerleaders are the support class of Jock Nation. They are there to worship the breeding bulls and top jocks. Specifically, to worship their masculine virtue (and at no point should they ever seek to limit how these men express their masculinity). He retains his cheerleader spirit by being supportive, affirmative, coy and, well, demure. When a jock rips a hard fart, a cheerboi giggles while the jocks laugh; when a bull is lost in a porn swamp and yells “I need to cunt a hole!” a cheerboi bites his bottom lip and pleads to the bull with his eyes; and when Coach – Daddy, to the cheerbois – says it’s time for bed, a cheerboi puts up a token, effeminate resistance until Daddy lifts him onto his shoulder and takes him to bed himself, where he enjoys a light spanking before he nestles into Daddy for the night.

The progress photo is part of this demureness. He doesn’t bend over enough to show off his loose, puffy cunt – a consequence of vulgar masculinity on his body – but he bends over just enough to give a tease; to make his Daddy Coach (and anyone else who sees it cause Coach will certainly share the picture with his boys) wonder about what lies within. It’s not about muscle or fat, gains or losses. Such things matter, and Coach’s assistants keep a meticulous record of a cheerleader’s body, but the progress photos are more fundamental than that. They are a weekly reminder to the cheerboi exactly why he’s here, and exactly how he should show it.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Cheerleaders

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Coach’s cheerleaders are chosen, in part, for their extraordinary beauty. Coach then molds them with his hypno-files, his intense workout and diet regime, his stern but loving fathering. All reinforced by the uniforms he dresses them in. The cheerleaders of Jock Nation are the support staff; there to facilitate the lives and grandeur of the jocks and bulls. And since so much of what it means to be a jock or bull – an alpha, in essence – is sex, the cheerleaders must forever be sexual. They must always remind the men what’s at stake.

It’s the Superbowl, and Coach is hosting all his jocks. His cheerleaders are there to serve food and drinks and to generally be delightful. Dressed like androgynous whores, they steal the jocks’ attention. Everyone’s got one eye on the game and one eye on the cheerleaders. Coach’s jocks are all caged. Their cocks are kept locked up to better control them and to maximize their testosterone. So, as horny as they are, and as turned on as they are surrounded by their jock bros, their Coach , the sounds and sights of the football, and the beautiful, teasing, tantalizing cheerbois, they can’t do anything about it. Throughout the night, the jocks get up to bend the cheerboi over and pull aside that scintillating bit of fabric. Just to see the puffy pussy beneath. Maybe touch it, sniff it, lick it. Jocks are all tops without a top’s tool, they want to fuck so bad but can’t.

And that pussy is blown-out. Jocks may be caged, but the bulls most certainly aren’t, and they need constant release. The cheerleaders are their favourite holes, so Coach and his assistants work tirelessly to loosen up the cheerbois in preparation for their epic poundings by the well-endowed bulls. Those pussy lips are pink and puffy, loose and welcoming. Coach himself has spent many evenings helping to pound open those beautiful boys, as they look up at him with their pleading eyes and scream “Fuck me, Daddy!”

Whenever a jock absent-mindedly starts playing with one of the cheerleaders, Coach smiles. He may have locked away their cocks, and he may fuck a different jock every night, but it’s essential to Coach that the jocks hold themselves like tops. That they have a top’s focus. His jocks should wanna get their dicks wet 24/7; they should be obsessed with pussy. Keeping these beautiful cheerleaders around, teasing his boys to no end, is just one way to help keep that focus in his jocks.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here.

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter

Ruggered

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Rugby is for bulls. Coach needs to give his big boys something to do to keep them busy between naps, meals, lifts and ruts. Where jocks are more cut and refined, bulls are fully ruggered. Having them attack each other on the field in brutal plays is the perfect thing. Imagine, one 300lb titan crashing up against another. Hot shit. And football’s not enough. Too much armor, not enough skin-to-skin contact.

Bulls are aggressive with each other by nature. One bull is another’s natural competitor, his only competitor. If the food and hole is plenty, the bulls are chill. But as soon as the spectre of competition over a piece of food or a piece of pussy raises its head, the bulls get testy. They sometimes come to blows, beating the shit out of each other for reasons they’re too dumb to understand.

Coach will allow this to a certain degree. Bulls are the highest-T men in the world and Coach means to keep it that way. He’s happy to let nature take its course. But bulls are assets – cash cows he rents out to couples looking for an ultra-alpha to give them an alpha son. He can’t afford them getting seriously hurt. So better to give them a pitch to vent all their aggression in a controlled way with rules and limits; to let them get ruggered. Plus, he gets to dress them in rugger shorts and enjoy the masculine thrill of softcore porn masquerading as a sport.

The jocks look on with lolling tongues and tingling loins whenever they watch their bull brothers play. The jocks will never reach the masculine grandeur of the bulls, but it’s good to have idols.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here.

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter.

The Clothes Make the Man

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Every part of a jock’s life is an opportunity to embed the values of masculine orthodoxy. Those values are defined by Coach Schmidt – as every tribe of jocks everywhere is led by his own Coach. And those values are obvious; strength is beauty, harder is better, muscles matter, sex and sexuality are constant, the clothes make the man …

That last one seems dumb, but it shouldn’t be underestimated. You put a man in a frilly skirt, what will he feel about himself, and other men? You put a man in a sharp suit, what then? A bowtie with a pocket protector? A dirty pair of sweats? A policeman’s uniform? Clothes are important because they carry social and psychological weight. Dress a jock in a sexified football uniform, and what happens? The jock sees himself as a sexified football player. A sexified jock. And that’s what he is. It is no more than dressing a man up in the clothes that fit.

When his boys are on team-time, they dress in a set way. Their uniform. Otherwise, Coach lets them dress as they want so long as the clothes are in line with masculine orthodoxy. More, they should actively seek to create the image of a sex-addled, dumbed down, masc4masc jock douchebruh. Why? Because that’s what all of Coach’s boys are. It doesn’t take much convincing to get one of these guys to dress down to a strap, slap on a football crop and pick up a ball, one of dozens laying around the frat at all times. And it certainly doesn’t take convincing to get him to stay dressed as such. The positive reinforcement from his jock brothers in the frat is immediate and total. “Nice ass, bro!” “Looking fucking fire today, dude.” “Fuu~, let me borrow your crop when you’re done, bruh?” All said as they spank his ass, grab for his caged, leaking cock, or stop him in his tracks for a healthy bro-kiss.

The jock groupthink is at its strongest in the frat, and it’s only stronger when each of the jocks is dressed in a way that conveys, in no uncertain terms, that he is a slave to the orthodox mindset.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here.

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter.

Sleepover

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

On a rotating schedule, Coach brings one of his jocks home for a sleepover. Tonight, it’s Zach’s privilege. Zach was a priss in band before Joe – one of Coach’s stars – saw the spark of potential in him and brought him into Coach’s fold. After a year of hard training and relentless jockification through the hypno-files, Zach shed the prissy demeanor and succumbed to masculine orthodoxy and groupthink.

Zach took to the uniform better than most. While Coach expects his boys to wear their team jockstraps in his colors – maroon pouch, white bands – when on the field, in the locker room, or at the gym, elsewise he’s happy for them to wear different cuts and colors of underwear, so long as they turn the big man on. And these all certainly do. Zach asked Coach if he could show off all his new looks he’d bought since the last time he got to sleepover, and Coach happily obliged. He wants his jockbois to be happy, it turns him on, and it also gives him another opportunity to assess his jock’s gains. Zach, being a younger jock in his tribe, still needed a bit more active guidance from Coach than, say, Joe. And that guidance came primarily in the form of Coach’s penetrating gaze and firm touch.

Zach’s particular focus on his outfits is not totally in line with jock groupthink. Yes, Coach wants his boys to look good and to be invested in their own masculine beauty, which includes dressing in such way to keep his fellow jock turned on, he doesn’t want his boys prissy. But Coach Schmidt allows his boys a little space for personal expression, for freedom. Zach was a priss before he joined the program; it makes sense that some of that prissy sensibility would continue to shine through, even after the relentless onslaught of the jockification process. He wanted to match baseball cap with sexy underwear. Coach had no problems with this. All that mattered was that he wanted to wear the underwear and a baseball cap – both essential items of clothing for any jock. Coach didn’t mandate that jocks shave their holes, but if Zach wanted to, that was fine, too. There’s no bad option, so long as the jock is fit, strong, manly and beautiful.

The sleepover is not just an opportunity for Coach to slam that jock bussy into submission, though he will do that because that’s what alphas do. It’s really an opportunity for a jock and his Coach to bond on a deeper, intimate level; away from the competing interests of the other jocks, cheerbois and bulls. It’s just a jock and his coach, alone and vulnerable. Coach will do to Zach’s mind what he will do to his bussy; penetrate it, tame it, soothe it.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here.

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter.

Dumb Jocks

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

The dumb jocks are talking politics while they pass the ball. It’s like hearing a bunch of kiddie-leaguers discuss astrophysics. These jockbois have lost their minds to the spiral, but they like to pretend they still have intellect, opinions, ethics and the like. It’s a form of mimicry, like how children mimic their native language before they’re actually able to speak it. They intone it, first. The jocks intone the discussions of people who still have the capacity for thinking beyond lifting, sports, sex, fun and bros. It’s funny. Cute, even. Who knows what silly shit they’re gonna spout next about taxes, healthcare, or fucking road signs.

Coach Schmidt doesn’t care. So long as they look hot and throw like men, they can talk about whatever they want. But, some part of the old man looks on at these conversations and worries. The jock files – those nightly spiraling hypno-tapes that keep the jocks in line and turned on – are designed to wear down a jock’s capacity for other-thought. Coach’s tribe is built on masculine orthodoxy and jock groupthink, both he strictly controls. Politics – like literature, history, science and the like – are not relevant to this orthodoxy, and they actually fly in the face of jock groupthink. Jocks should have their minds on the ball, on their cocks, on each other’s cocks, on pussy, on porn, on the gym, on their diet. While these topics are intellectually meager for most adults, for dumb jocks they should be more than enough to keep them stimulated. When the bros ape depth with their attempt at polemic, they undermine groupthink. Coach doesn’t intervene because they’re all doing it. They’re all playing into and feeding the charade. In this, it is a part of jock groupthink. The groupthink that suggests they should be thinking about something deeper than cock and football.

Only it fails. It’s only ever an aping, never the real thing. The orthodox mind-fuck is too powerful, the groupthink too omnipresent, the desire to be a dumb jock too demanding for his boys to ever actually surrender to the lust for poignancy. Life is too short for poignancy, especially for men like this; young, dumb and full of cum.

Coach has nothing to worry about.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

What it means to be Jocked, and more posts here.

Check out my Tumblr and Twitter.

Bull Pool

January 1, 2024 / / 0 Comments

This is the Bull Pool. Just a place for Coach Schmidt’s big boys to cool off in the summer when the heat starts to get to them. If you weighed 320lbs, you’d sweat like a fucking hog, too. And sweat they do. Coach doesn’t accept a boy as a member of his bullpen until he reaches that glorious 300th pound (fat in check).

If a bull’s been good, Coach’ll send in some of the cheerbois to keep him company. Those beautiful svelte bottoms love nothing more than sitting on the laps of their big brother-bulls, getting their puffy assholes violently played with, soaking in his obnoxious, reeking masculinity. The bull’s probably chowing down on a massive pizza during, or six men’s worth of hamburgers. Coupled with the cum oozing from his overactive cock, and the Bull Pool gets fucking disgusting fucking fast. A thick film of highly potent bull cum will cover the water by the end, especially if more than one bull shares the pool. A dangerous scenario. The bulls aren’t always too friendly with each other. If there’s plenty of food, plenty of hole, plenty of room, plenty of attention, then bulls can be the best of bros. If there’s ever competition for resources, then these huge slabs of meat can and do get violent. So Coach will only share the pool if he has plenty of cheerbois to spare for the evening. The clean-up, as ever, is left for the runts. Sometimes they’ll only have ten minutes to drain the scuzz from the pool before the next bull barges in and takes his pleasure.

Bulls are incredibly simple. They just wanna shovel food into their stomachs, lift heavy bits of metal, and put their dicks into tight holes. Coach ensures all three urges are kept well-satisfied.

Read the first Jocked novel here!

Learn what it means to be Jocked, and more Jocked posts here.

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Party Propaganda

December 10, 2023 / / 0 Comments

CW: Trivialization of body dysmorphia

A piece of Party propaganda plastered across the cities in Homolania. The message is clear to the mind-fucked citizens: strength is glory, weakness is degeneracy.

Which side are you on?

It’s not a question that needs considered. The homocitizenry is beyond thinking at this point. But propaganda isn’t about thought. It’s about acceptance. The homocitizen is fed a message, and he swallows it as willingly as he’d swallow a cock. Every thing the Party says is truth. That’s the only thing everyone knows for sure. If the Party says it, it is true. If the Party says it, it is true. If the Party says it…

This image isn’t captioned. The men see the image of a muscle-bound arm and understand it is desirable. They see an image of a skinny arm and understand it is wrong. Immoral. All men attend the gym. It’s not law, only universal custom. But following this campaign, gym attendance across the country went up by 15% – men taking their workouts from 5 days a week to 6. The sale of roids also spiked. Most men would look in the mirror, compare their arms to the model in the poster, and feel a burning need to dose. No man – not a single fucking one – can stomach being the pencil-armed weakling. In Homolania, every idol of culture, society, and power is muscular. Muscularity is the cornerstone of masculinity, and masculinity is the only value worth pursing. That is law.

Must get bigger. Must get stronger. Must get bigger. Must get stronger. The Party does not recognize body dysmorphia or bigorexia or any other foreign concept that seeks to valorize weakness. If a homocitizen looks in the mirror and does not see an Adonis staring back, he is failing in his duties as a proud androphile of the State. He should feel bad. Party propaganda serves only to spread “truth”. The truth may hurt, but in the long term, the men of the realm will be stronger for it. No pain, no gain, boys. Now fucking lift.

Learn more about Homolania here.

Country Boys

December 10, 2023 / / 0 Comments

How wrestling is played in the hinterlands of Homolania. It doesn’t stop at pinning a guy. Once you’ve secured your masculine superiority, you take your prize. That’s just the way it is with these country boys.

Officially, the Party says all men are vers and there’s no shame in bottoming. Which is how most men live their lives, most of the time. But realistically, men still recognize the truth of sexual conquest. To take a man’s hole and use it as your cumdump is a sign of dominance and control.

The spectators watch with pride, lust, envy, awe. These strong gay men are the pinnacle of Homolania and its values. The State glorifies strength, virility, androphilia, and sex, and wrestling topless in the mud and rain is the perfect summation of that. The young men and boys in the audience are learning all the right lessons about how to be a man, how to relate to men, and how to make the Patriarch proud.

But it’s all a game. A way for men to vent their testosterone in a safe and entertaining way. And though it might seem like rape – an act more akin to animals in the savannah, than men in civilization – it doesn’t seem that way to the men involved. A well-adjusted man accepts his loss and its consequences. He’ll take the top’s dick without ego, and strive to get stronger, better, manlier, so that next time, he’s on top.

And in the meantime, he’ll enjoy the sex. To be mounted and fucked by a more virile man is not a source of shame in Homolania as it is throughout so much of the world. To take his masculine energy is a sign of strength in itself. And a sign of beautiful androphilia. You – as a strong and just citizen of the State – want his manhood in you, close to you. To feel his hard cock plough in and out of your body brings you closer to the collective manhood of the State.

Learn more about Homolania here.

Due Respect

December 10, 2023 / / 0 Comments

An honored daddy in the bathing pools of a mountain resort in Homolania. He’s an executive at the State power company, and he’s had a long week. He’s taking his earned time to relax and enjoy himself. He left his husband back in the capital with their sons, so he needs pleasure from outside the marriage bed. This is perfectly normal in Homolania. Monogamy is seen as a straggot perversion – a total aberration of male nature. But now, daddy’s looking for some release, and for his due respect. It’s an amorphous concept, but respect is valued like gold in a country as hierarchical as Homolania.

There’s a party of bucks from a State-sponsored young men’s adventuring society. These are popular organizations to join on summer break for men who delay their military service. They teach young men combat skills for when they enlist after college. The boys are trying their best not to disturb the daddies in the pool with their youthful vigor, but they can’t keep their hands off each other – wrestling, playing, kissing, fucking. They’re just so hyped up on the synthetic testosterone that is now standard for all men and boys to take.

Two of the boys swim close by to find some privacy while they make out. Daddy signals them over. They oblige without question. It’s been deeply programmed into them that all daddies are to be respected.

“I need serviced, boys. It’s been a hell of a week.”

“Yes, sir,” they say.

One boy massages his broad back while the other pleasures his manhole. He laps away like a dog at the daddy’s ass, happy to be so close to his masculine essence. Both boys are excited and turned on; overjoyed to be given the privilege of service.

“Good boys. That feels wonderful. I imagine your fathers are very proud.”

“They are, sir,” they say. There’s no need to be humble, and it would be disrespectful of their dads to answer otherwise.

“Your body’s magnificent, daddy. Truly the Patriarch reborn.”

“You’re very generous, son. And you look terrific yourself. Both of you. Stay on track and you’ll look as tremendous as me at my age.”

“Yes, sir!” they say.

Daddy turns around with his hard dick swinging free and the boys get to work. It’s not long before he busts his load over their grateful faces.

“Thank you, daddy,” they say.

“You’re welcome, boys. Now go play.”

“Yes, sir.”

He gives them each a kiss and sends them on their way. That’s just how it is in the perfect hierarchy of Homolania. Give a daddy his due respect and he’ll treat you like a prince.

Learn more about Homolania here.

The Patriarch’s Pride

November 29, 2023 / / 0 Comments

[VIDEO] Proud firefighters of the Homolanian Fire Brigade, going out to save some lives and cause some boners. The Patriarch’s pride and joy do a wonderful job on both fronts. Constant arousal is important for national unity, you know?

Learn more about Homolania here.

The Patriarch’s Peace

November 29, 2023 / / 0 Comments

A typical shift hand-over at a provincial police station in Homolania. Employed to keep the Patriarch’s peace, and to ensure the utter erasure of all straggotry, these men are at the front line of Homolania’s quest for androphilic perfection.

To be a police officer is one of the most valued jobs in the nation. All men respect the police for the work they do in maintaining androphilic peace and restraining straggotry. All boys revere the police for being such clear manifestations of the masculinity they know they must emulate. Professional soldiers, firemen, construction workers and politicians are on the same level of virile respect, but the police hold a special place in the hearts of the homocitizenry. So, competition for police jobs is fierce. Luckily, the State hires an abundance of them. You’ll find policemen on every street corner, being the eyes and ears of the Patriarch and the Party. The State uses more high-tech means of surveillance, of course, but the old-fashioned mode of man-v-man prevails. The total panopticon of Homolania must include an overindulged and overfunded police force. It must. A man may notice a sign of straggotry where a camera won’t; he may pick up on a subtle clue of effeminacy where a secret mic doesn’t.

For these three keepers of the Patriarch’s peace, there’s a high chance they’ve all fucked, though it doesn’t matter. What matters to the Party is eroticism, not sex, per se. Every moment in life is an opportunity to indulge and embrace homoeroticism. In a country where heterosexuality doesn’t exist in law or culture (and less and less in mind or heart), and where women are further and further cast away or hidden, the homocitizenry of the national brotherhood find constant security, relief, pleasure and joy in each other. A light graze of a buddy’s ass as he’s changing; an overt sizing-up of another dude’s cock; a constant wave of compliments about each other’s androphilic virtue – men have learned so acutely that gassing each other up on the grounds of homosexual masculinity is right, and good, and just.

And mandatory. Daddy is watching. Always. Policemen know that most of all. Who watches the watchers? Daddy, of course.

Learn more about Homolania here.

Stalwart of Homolania

November 29, 2023 / / 0 Comments

A stalwart of Homolania, surveying his country and becoming infused with its erotic energy. The very nation itself – its land and structures – are sources of sexual pleasure in the minds of the homocitizenry.

It’s decades since the revolution, and the dust is long settled on the new normal. All men are gay, all straggotry is gone, all women are kept out of sight – most having abandoned the nation for less misogynistic harbors. The rest of the world is in a state of collapse. Chaos reigns. Dystopia follows in its wake. But Homolania – perched on the sun drenched shores of the Mediterranean and nestled throughout the valleys of southern Europe – is like a blip of paradise in a hellish world.

That paradise is maintained by a state-apparatus of total surveillance and total control. All boys are raised in the same furnace, and given the same playbook to live their lives. This stalwart is no different. He was bred in the Ministry of Progeny using the seed of a ‘brute’ – one of the categories of stud-line used to make more sons for the State – and orphaned off to a righteous Homofascist household in the hinterlands – far from the coast and the capital. He was raised on meat, potatoes and milk; he wrestled and played football like they were oxygen; he fucked his first boy when he was 13 on a three-day camping hike with his best friend. He got work at the garage owned by his dads and took it over when they stepped back. He found his own husband – a fellow brute from the village over who worked as a State forester – and they built a homestead on his dads’ land. Now, they’re in line to adopt their first son, and so it comes full-circle. In all that time, he never once saw a woman in the flesh.

And now he observes the land from where he and his husband have camped for the weekend. He’s slow-witted and simple – as his breeding stock tend to be – and his mind is completely enslaved to the propaganda of the Party. He’s heard it on a loop since the day he was born. He knows nothing else. As he observes the contours of Homolania, his dick hardens. He was blessed to be bred into the most glorious nation on Earth. The realm is alive with a pulsing androphilia that all men feel, all men share. He returns to his tent with his husband and their lovers du jour to indulge his birthright as a stalwart of Homolania.

Learn more about Homolania here.

Parliamentarian

November 29, 2023 / / 0 Comments

This man is a typical parliamentarian of Homolania. Politics is a game of the physical and sexual elite, so goes the Party’s ideology. Politicians are not chosen through biased and sordid elections, or through mystical nonsense like divine right, or even through the partisan, militant conquest of a dictator. These systems all lack legitimacy, or strength, or both. They are corrupted by money and nepotism and unearned narcissistic greed. Not in Homolania. Here, all that wins is androphilic strength.

Politicians are chosen through publically broadcast games of strength, skill, intelligence, loyalty, and sexual virility – designed to weed out the weak and elevate the strong in a way that is undeniable to the governed. The whole country watches the Parliamentary Games every five years and sees their newest champions of government rise up. Many of the old guard remain – incentivized to work tirelessly on maintaining their excellence – and many new, younger men enter; either because they oust the sitting members, or because the older members of the House (those who have maintained their parliamentary seat for 20 years by the start of the next “election”) ascend to the second chamber where they are granted life-peerage. The winners of the games become national figures of admiration, not disdain; emulation, not suspicion. The boys and men of Homolania fantasize and sexually glorify their parliamentarians. How could they not?

And there’s no way to cheat the system. All men between the ages of 18 and 45 are allowed to compete. It is up to any individual man to train to win – he trains in the gym and the field as the Party demands; he trains in the classroom and the library as the Party demands; he trains in the club and the boudoir as the Party demands; and he trains through total internalization of the Party’s propaganda, as the Party demands. Even the cruel hand of genetic fate is mediated by universal use of steroids. All men synthesize their muscles, most intensely those who aspire for power. At no point does money or privilege or background or even genetics come into it. If a man wants it, he will earn it.

And as for the second chamber – yes, those men are granted life peerage, but only if they maintain their seat in the lower house for twenty years. To do so is an extraordinary feat. To keep power for so long deserves keeping power forever, so says the Party. The citizenry understand that. The senators are the most highly respected of all; the daddies who determine the continuity of the State. They have earned that right through constant conquest. No one can take issue with this beautiful, elegant system.

So imagine this house of 500 masculine parliamentarians, each vying to maintain and expand his own power in the face of his equally glorious colleagues. The sheer virility of the chamber is unsurpassed in any institution in the world; the orgies are cosmic.

Learn more about Homolania here.

OGs of Homofascism

November 29, 2023 / / 0 Comments

OGs of Homofascism – openly gay before the revolution and the mass conversion to homosexuality. Once marginalized, they are now on top of the social ladder. They are executives at their company which manufactures armaments for the State. It gets them hard to think their work is directly aiding in spreading the just war of homosexual expansionism. They are respected daddies in their communities – both in their late 30s and the proud fathers of three sons. They’re raising them to the Party’s dictum, word for word. They welcome the weekly visits from the orthodoxy police to ensure their sons are on the right androphilic path. A bruising enforcer testing you on your loyalty and masculinity is enough to set any boy gay. And they enjoy all masculine pastimes. They love sports, they workout, they build, and fix, and reason. Before, they used to distinguish themselves between top and bottom, but no more. It’s counter-revolutionary, but also contrary to their new understanding. The one who identified as a bottom truly internalized the desire to use his manhood to bring pain and pleasure to another man. His fear of topping vanished with the androphilia that subsumed the nation in the years following the revolution.

And they were happy to surrender any and all feminine pursuits they had indulged once upon a time. The Party was right to purge the nation of all symbols and acts of effeminacy. They once enjoyed drag shows, but now they see them as the pinnacle of hetero-feminine decadence. Men dressing up and acting like women? What an affront to androphilia. What an affront to the Patriarch. It makes them cringe with genuine shame to think they used to enjoy it. But that was the past. They’re changed men. Completely at one with the Party and their leader.

They’re enjoying their Sunday at the beach, surrounded by hundreds of gay men and their families – both original and converts. They love their new converted brothers, and they fully accept that they have cast aside their heathen heterosexuality. But most OGs of Homofascism never quite get over their superiority complex. The “I was here first” outlook. Still, a gay’s a gay for all that. And here, on this sunny beach on the Med coast, there’s only gays to be found. Not a straight man in sight. Not a woman in sight. This is the paradise they were promised. The Party said they would deliver, and deliver they did.

Glory to the Patriarch.

Learn more about Homolania here.

Police Brutality

November 28, 2023 / / 0 Comments

CW: Sexual assault

Police are given extraordinary powers under the Fascist rule of Homolania. They also tend to be the most vehemently thought-controlled of all citizens. They, more than anyone, believe the androphilic and patriarchal propaganda of the Party. It’s the main motivator to join the force – they want to be part of the solution that brings Homolania ever closer to the utopia of the Party’s design. Which means that they actually use their power for good. That is – good as defined by the Party. To most others, it would look like police brutality.

Here they questioned a man who was walking in a way that seemed far too effeminate to be just. He was basically mincing. It offended their androphilic worldview. It conjured images of stereotyped gay men in decadent media from a time and space now largely forgotten. Men don’t act like this, they think. Men are androphiles. Effeminacy is counter-revolutionary.

So they questioned him, and his answers proved lacking. Effeminate men are asking to be raped, so goes the common logic of the State. By disavowing his masculinity, he disavows his subjectivity. He becomes nothing more than an object. Once the raping is done, they’ll haul his sissy ass to the station. Effeminate degeneracy must be conditioned out of the population completely. The fact that he’s been able to go so long without facing police retribution is frankly a black mark on the force’s record.

He could have spread his poison to all manner of impressionable young men. That angers the police. The poison must be rooted out at all levels, lest it festers and spreads. May the Patriarch bless this lost effeminate soul so that he can come through his reconditioning a hale and healthy androphile of Homolania. If he can’t, then this police brutality suffered here will be nothing compared to what’s coming.

Learn more about Homolania here.

The military-to-education pipeline

November 28, 2023 / / 0 Comments

After he served ten years in the army, he returned to civilian life and took up a job as a math teacher in his local finishing academy. Homolanian schools now only employ the most masculine men as teachers. These are the men that boys are going to be spending most of the day with – they must inspire androphilic lust. It’s essential. The military-to-education pipeline is now almost as common as the military-to-police.

He shows up to work dressed in his combat fatigues. It achieves two things; one, it symbolizes his authority and his history – the boys know this is a man to respect and admire. Two, it feeds into the nationwide fetishization of the military. To be so close to a masculine hunk in soldier’s uniform can only help reinforce the desire to serve the military, and serve in the military.

It’s proven so successful that the school has instituted a uniform-wide policy for all its teachers. They now all dress in combat fatigues, whether they served or not. Those who did serve wear their dog tags to signify their sacrifice. The principal didn’t want to disrespect the men who worked to spread Homofascism onwards.

Now the young men of the academy enjoy being taught by a stream of military-garbed teachers – all roided, masculine and tough. The homoeroticism, already painfully high in the minds of the teenage boys, is nearly unbearable. They all find themselves in the toilet stalls between classes, jacking off to thoughts of their teachers. Doesn’t stop them getting raging boners when the next class starts. The orthodoxy police are aware of this new policy and are very pleased with the results. It might become nationwide policy soon, if Parliament approves. As with all things in Homolania, truth is secondary to image. The military-to-education pipeline doesn’t need to be real, only the image of it. If all teachers are dressed like soldiers, then does it really matter that most of them aren’t?

Learn more about Homolania here.

Viril Arte Nouveau

November 28, 2023 / / 0 Comments

All the heathen art of the old world is destroyed, and in its place, the Party commissions thousands of pieces depicting truth and beauty in the new order. Viril Arte Nouveau, it’s been christened. The galleries and museums of Homolania are filled with endless images of androphilic idealism. The critics are all agreed: there’s never been a more worthy artistic movement.

The art now depicts beautiful men – usually naked, together, and happy – or else features the land, architecture, machinery and magnificence of Homolania itself. Often both. To put one next to the other is to deepen the bonds that the two share. Homolania is its men, its men are Homolania. All culture is now designed to foster the idea of the National Brotherhood. All men are brothers, blood irrelevant. Brothers feel great bonds of trust and loyalty and love. That is what the Party wants in its homocitizenry.

Or so it claims. The people must trust the Party, for they are the bearers of truth. Whether they trust each other is less important. In fact, suspicion helps maintain order by fostering a culture that prioritizes purity over reason. The Party wants people to rat each other out. And loyalty matters so long as loyalty to each other never supplants loyalty to the State. And love? Well, the Patriarch is love. He asks only for love in return. Whether the homocitizenry love each other is not so relevant.

But culture is about propaganda, not truth. The Party weaponizes culture to spread the idea of a National Brotherhood built on truth, loyalty and love. Viril Arte Nouveau is just one brick in the palace of social conditioning now expertly crafted by the Ministry of Orthodoxy. Suffice to say, not a single piece of this new art contains women. If the idea of women – and therefore the potential for heterosexuality – is to be removed from the population, then women cannot be included in any affect of culture. That is only reasonable.

Learn more about Homolania here.

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