Jockboi’s getting ready to listen to today’s jock-file so he has to get into uniform. Which means he flips his cap back. He’s either in his football gear, or already dressed permanently for the gym. What other clothes are there, dude?
He’ll spend the next hour zoned out while Coach’s voice instils jock values into his ever-slowing brain. He’ll wake up with a painful dripping boner, which he’ll satisfy while watching some Coach-approved porn. Today, it’s some locker room scene where two guys flipflop and just call each other dude over and over again.
Then it’s time for a hearty meal of steak, potatoes and broccoli, washed down with coach’s special “jock juice” protein shake, before heading for his evening sesh at the gym with Joey and Gabe and Zach and Hiro and Jordan and Noah and Rory and…
When you’re just minding your own business and bro storms up to you and starts making out. You couldn’t stop it if you wanted to, and fuck knows you don’t want to.
After months of flirting, side-eyeing and falling asleep drunk in each other’s beds, your closeted buddy final told you how he really feels. You were so excited, you leapt up in his arms and kissed him right there in the street.
Your new neighbour came up to you in the park. A bachelor in his mid-thirties, well-built and handsome like you. He said, nonchalantly, that if you ever wanted to spend some quality man-on-man time, then don’t hesitate to come on over. Immediately, your shorts started to tent. How the fuck did he know? That night, you made your excuses to your girlfriend and went to get completely wrecked by your new best bud.
Wrestlers and bodybuilders are one step away from being porn stars. They have the pornstar state of mind at least; aesthetic, victory, sensation, physicality, strength. All this and more occupies the minds of these men. Is it so hard to imagine these wrestling greats taking the next logical step and fucking? Not for me.
How you’ve taken to greeting your gay buddy every time he comes round. Even the thought of it makes you tent. He says that’s totally normal, that all the other bros he makes out with get hard too, so you don’t worry too much about it. Also fucking him just feels cool, you know? He says that’s normal too. All bros are natural tops. You fucking love the sound of that.
When bro asks you to take footage for his FortheFans, all innocent like. Of course you say yes. Bros help bros. You take your boner as a sign that bro’s looking hot and is gonna make a killing on the site. Which is sick. What a bro doesn’t wanna make money with his donk? You’re thinking about maybe doing it, too. Maybe you and bro could do some scenes together…
When bro’s lying around the apartment in these pants, things can get real gay real fast. Once is a fluke, twice is a mistake, three times is a fucking cry for help. But fuu, bro’s donk tho!
When you and bro are tag-teaming a girl, but you can’t keep your eyes off each other. Or your mouths. She finds it hot, which is good. A nice cover. You’re kissing cause it makes her wet. Uh huh. You’ve kinda stopped fucking while you kiss, tho but…
The guy at the next table was wearing a rainbow wristband. You and your buds decided to tease him a bit. Nothing mean, just some fun. You pulled down your shorts and underwear and licked your lips. “You want a taste of this, dude?”
The guy raised his glass and gave you a wink. “Why, you offering?”
You all laughed and went back to your drinks. Later, you cornered him in the toilets and he fucked your slutty jock ass as hard and rough as you ordered him to. You were starting to come to terms with the fact that you might possibly sorta be maybe gay kinda.
To be a bossy power bottom was a whole other pill to swallow.
When bro’s getting super bro-y while you’re working out, but you love him all the more for it. You’ve got an always-commando policy in the pad. Underwear just slows a bro down from getting where he needs to go. So it means your stuff is flopping around pretty righteously all the time.
It’s awesome hearing him tame pussy in the next room cause you know he’s packing and her moans aren’t lying. Shit must feel great.
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.
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.
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.
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.
