Two of Coach’s bulls burning off their huge reserves of calories playing rugby. They can’t be out too long though. They’re on a tight schedule of eating, cumming, shitting, lifting and sleeping. Still, it’s important to get fresh air, to play sports with the other bulls for the bond, and to use up their energy so it doesn’t turn destructive. Some of the beloved cheerbois are watching so the bulls are flexing to make them swoon. After the game, they’ll each take a cheerboi or two and use their pussies to get milked.
Daily progress shot sent to Daddy to fuel his wank bank. Daddy is particularly keen on glutes; he has his sluts train a minimum of 2 leg days a week. It’s brutal for the sluts but the results speak for themselves. Then, spending 15 hours a week in the gym is brutal but the results speak for themselves. When you’re addicted to gainz, this is the life you lead.
Speaking of, slut’s next appointment with Daddy is in two days. He’ll get his next dose of poison to fuel his growth. He’s hard and leaking thinking about it. Daddy will exact his payment, he knows, but it’s worth it. Your gainz are more important than your heterosexuality.
Daddy dangles the lure of steroids in front of these damaged men and they cave. They eventually beg to join Daddy’s cult. At first, they sucked him and endured his dick because that was the price for the muscle they craved. Now, they do it cause they love Daddy and his beautiful cock.
The gay guy at the gym is awful friendly. He keeps helping you with your lifts, and has tons of advice about diet and self-care. One day, on his way out, he pulled down his shorts and gave you this signal. You didn’t know what it meant, but you didn’t care. You were too busy staring at his impeccable ass and straining to keep your boner down. You failed.
When bro sets you up with a new VR headset and fleshlight. He told you to just click play. There sure are a lot of dudes. You trust bro, he always keeps you straight. And now the dudes are kissing. And now sucking. And fucking. And you’re hard. It’s not long before you’ve busted a vivid load into your new toy. That was the first time you’d seen gay porn. You press replay.
There’s a gay guy at work who compliments your amazing body all the time. You play it off as a joke but deep down you love it. You’ve started dressing sluttier. It works. He takes one look at your perfect ass wrapped snuggly in these pants and starts panting like a fucking hound. It turns you on. You wonder what it would be like to take it to the next level. You’ve never been with a guy, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it…
When your Railr pings and the bodybuilder couple next to you show up on your feed. They look you up and down and you nearly bust your nut. You only downloaded the app out of curiosity. Fuck they were hot. But you’re not ready for this shit.
You and bro just vibing on another level and your girl’s getting impatient. She wants to leave, you want to spend more time with bro. It’s a pickle. She’s used to you and bro kissing now, but she’s still not happy about it. She keeps saying it’s “weird” and “gay”. You’re just like “pfft”. It’s “No Homo, babe” cause “he’s bro”.
It makes sense to you. It makes sense to bro. That’s why you love bro. The vibes.
Bro is cocky, but he’s earned it. He’s always doing this shit around you. You love bro so fucking much. Always got a boner, always thinking of ass, always getting all puffed up while he cops a feel. And always topless, too, which is sick. Dude’s ripped as fuck, insane cum gutters. You share jeans a lot cause you’re tight. Don’t bother you none that his bare dick and donk have touched them. Just makes you feel closer to bro.
When you try Railr for the first time out of pure curiosity and this guy slides in your DMs to ask if you’re dtf. You quickly delete the app and jack out a huge load. Not yet. Not yet.
Showering with bro and sharing that good manly intimacy. You’re shooting the shit, talking about that good bro stuff. You know – chicks, gym, work, football, whether you measure up as a man, farts. All that. You’re mesmerized by bro’s donk cause bros love donk and he’s got a phatty. You’re not gonna do anything cause No Homo is in force and you respect that. Still, you and bro are chubbed up and easily tugging away as you talk. Just bro shit.
Mark will always go for the alpha. He likes a broad swathe of men, but he can never resist the lure of a king. Watching this 250lb slab of testosterone completely dom the fuck out of some bitch on the gym floor tells Mark everything he needs to know.
It will take a few weeks of seduction, but sure enough, this alpha will end up in Mark’s bed slam-fucking his well-honed fuckhole into oblivion. And if alpha wants to sit his magnificent ass down on Mark’s face – this time bare – then Mark will have no qualms. Rimming a slab of testosterone until he can’t take it anymore and busts a huge nut is one of his specialities.
Trace and Cole were a couple of “straight” douchebruhs who treated the gym like their own personal weight room. They’d grunt and yell at the top of their voices as they ego-lifted weights way beyond their ken; they’d never clean up their sweat; or put away their dumbbells; or show any degree of conscientiousness at all. And they always seemed to have a lot of stuff; bags and clothes and bottles and accessories that most of the other dudes didn’t.
Trace was the older and “wiser” of the two. He’d clearly been roiding for years; his huge arms spoke for themselves. Cole was his lil bro, learning at master’s teat. It was cute watching Trace guide Cole through a movement, or help him overcome any sense of shame about showing off in the middle of the gym. Cole was probably in his early twenties, clean-shaven and manly-cute. Give him a couple of years on Trace’s stack, and boy would blow up, Mark was sure. Both were completely waxed, tanned and shiny.
Mark was obsessed with them. A couple of handsome, roided bro-bros who were loud, dumb and arrogant. A favorite of Mark’s. They gave off toxic, masc4masc Railr bruh vibes. The type Mark was always happy to get down with. They’d been on his hit-list for weeks now. He was just looking for an opening.
They would know he was gay. Most people in Sparta did. Trace and Cole were the living embodiment of “No homo, bro”. Getting them to a place where they could be comfortable around him was gonna be a job of work, but one day they’d crack. Mark was curious to really test how “straight” they were. In his experience, most men weren’t so. Mark’s gaydar was beeping – slowly, quietly, from a far distance, but definitely on. Trace and Cole would be in his bed, one way or another. Or his sofa. Or floor. Of the gym jacuzzi. Or a toilet. Getting fucked on the Sparta gym toilets was something of a specialty of Mark’s.
The following is an excerpt from the first story (The Jock) in Gym Bros Volume 1: Straight Guys Gone Gay. Buy the full thing on Amazon:-
“Welcome,” said Dan to a man across the desk. “How can I-”. He cleared his throat. “How can I help you, today?”
“Was hoping to join,” said the man. He spoke in the same cadence as all gym bros. Low, breathless, carefully unprissy.
Mark was the same. As he licked teasingly on the thick rod waggling before him, his mind wandered. Gym bros had a way of speaking that distinguished them from the general man. Maybe it was the heavy roids the dudes did. Maybe it was their societal hang-ups forcing them down an octave. Maybe such men were destined for the gym. Fuck knows.
“Just moved nearby,” said the customer.
“Nice,” said Dan. He paused just as Mark really got down to work. “You from New York?”
“Nah, Oklahoma. Just landed a job here in the city.”
“That’s great, man. Have you- mmm. Have you used one of our gyms before?”
The client frowned in confusion as he stared down the 40-year old ex-bodybuilder with his bulging arms and frayed baseball cap. “You alright, dude?”
“Yeah. Sorry, just nursing an old injury.”
“Sorry to hear that, bro.”
“Comes with the territory.” His hand came below desk and grabbed the back of Mark’s head. “Tore my quad up years ago when I used to play football.”
Dan subtly jutted his hips forward and back. Mark kept pace, never gagging.
“Damn, sounds painful.”
Mark giggled silently from his hiding space. It was anything but painful, you damn idiot. Mark took Dan’s shaft all the way to the base and back and savored the fucker’s poorly-contained frissons of pleasure. To Mark, this shit was a walk in the park. An under-desk blowie before noon? No problem, no drama. Mark pulled the thick 5-incher from his mouth as quietly as he could and lapped at the glistening pink cockhead. He continued scrolling through his socials while he sucked.
Oooh, they’re releasing a new line of Pound! jockstrap. Mark liked the post and continued scrolling, never letting up on his suckling. Dan’s frustration came through in the force applied to the back of Mark’s head. He clearly wanted to fuck face, but was constrained by the civilization of it all.
Pity.
“Never mind about that,” said Dan. “So you wanna join? I’m happy to help you there. I’m Dan. I manage this gym.”
He held out his hand to shake the newcomer’s and Mark tickled his balls as he did. They were high and tight, as per his roiding, and hairier than most of the men here. Gym bros tended to be a vain bunch – body hair was usually a rare delight.
Dan shook the client’s hand with an awkward cadence, like he had some kind of subtle tick. He usually had a good poker face. Men like Dan were used to being sucked off, whether by guys or girls. People always wanted to be on their knees for a football jock, for a bodybuilder.
“Name’s Hudson,” said the client. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too. If you just take one of these application forms, hand it in when you’re done. Then I can give you a tooour!”
Mark twist-jacked his dick with one hand, tickled his balls with the other, and suckled the tip with his mouth. His great cocksucking trifecta. Dan was seconds from busting. Mark could tell.
“Right,” said Hudson. “Sorry about your leg, bro.”
He walked away to a nearby seating area. Dan called after him. “And welcome to Warriors of Sparta. Where we turn mice into-”
He bust his load and it shot into Mark’s hermetically sealed mouth. The ropes blasted against his tongue and throat and Mark gulped it down joyously. His prize.
