Himbos may be braindead sluts without education, trades or experience, but don’t ever think these bootilicious sluts will be out of work. Their donks got all the education they need.
Dumb down here, himbos
Tag: chain
Jockboi decided to walk back to the frat in the pissing rain. They lost the match, and he blames himself. Coach didn’t tell him to do this; it’s something he feels he has to do. He let the side down, he let his boys down, he let coach down, he let himself down. The lonely, cold walk will help enforce how he can never let it happen again.
Jocks excel. Jocks win. It’s that simple. If he’s not winning, he’s not a jock. And he can never accept that life.
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A graduated jock has come back to see Coach for the weekend. Coach enforces a strict dress-code for his boys when they’re in his home. Observe. A strap, socks and sneakers and, for his non-graduated jocks, their caps. Sexual, masculine, conformist and respectful, this is what you wear when you spend intimate time with Coach.
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You were a bit upset after this wonderful top fucked you then split. Yeah, the sex was outstanding, your hole’s still buzzing, but you’d hoped to get to know him a bit better now that you’d both cooled down. But why? You think he’s got time for cuddles and chitchat after he’s bust. He’s a top, tops are men, men’ve got shit to do. Like get to the gym to become harder, stronger, cooler. Bottoms are meek and stupid so will struggle to understand, but a top never “cools down”. He’s already on Railr looking for another pussy for his heat.
Obey His rule
It’s inconceivable to a himbo to not be constantly on show. His body is a work of public art. An interactive sculpture. He uses his eyes to beg men to look and touch.
Dumb down here, himbos
“Bros, three way make-out session, now! Whoever chubs up, loses.”
“Bro! Yes!”
Not a winner in sight.
This is the signal from your neighbor that you can come over to fuck around. He sits out on his deck in only his underwear with a cigarette in his mouth. He’s a bad-mannered, angry man in a shitty marriage, and anytime he doesn’t spend at work, he spends at the gym. That’s where you connected with him. You’d been neighbors for a few years now but had otherwise kept your distance. You assumed he wasn’t into guys. You assumed wrong.
One day, he cornered you in the locker room. He knew you were into men. You weren’t exactly shy about having guys over at the weekend, and the pride flag waving outside your property was a bit of a give away. It started with oral, but before long he was fucking you in the ass. He was a total top, of course. Well, for now. You’d see about changing that someday, cause he had one thicc muscle ass that you were keen to explore. Either way, he’d found an outlet for his closeted rage and you’d found a hot motherfucker to spend your Sundays with. Win win.
It’ll be our little secret
“Look, Coach… I got huge!”
There’s nothing more satisfying to jock or Coach than when a jock truly starts to look the part. When the months of training, eating, hypnosis, indoctrination and drugs begin to pay off. Jockboi has completely forgotten who he used to be. Whether skinny, fat, thicc, meek, fem, or just invisible – gone! It no longer matters. All that matters is that he is now jock.
Get Jocked.
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“That’s it bro, just forget everything you were thinking. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a treatise on political philosophy, was it? You don’t need to think, bro. Look at your body, look at your bulge. You’ve got everything you need. Now just get back in the gym and have another go at your biceps. If you do good, you can jack off again. That’s what you want, right bro? To lift and to cum. To lift and to cum.”
The sort of mantra that feeds a healthy jock’s brain. To lift and to cum, to lift and to cum. That’s what a jock should aspire to. Everything else is a distraction.
Get Jocked.
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The men at the pool catcall and jeer at the himbo, and so the himbo smiles. He’s learned that any attention from men is good attention, so he basks in their raunchy dudeness. He’s well accustomed to men just fondling his ass, giving him a kiss, sticking their fingers in his mouth, and each time it happens, his dim little himbo brain lights up with serotonin.
Dumb down here, himbos
You joined a new gym that opened in your neighborhood. It claimed to be “inclusive”, which sounded righteous. Inclusivity rocks! Also it had a pool. You were sold. And what a good fucking decision that’s been. All the bros at the gym are crazy friendly. Right from the off, they insisted on kissing. Now listen – you’re a righteous bro, and you love a good tongue sesh with a fellow traveler. But usually you gotta wait a few weeks. Share a beer, watch a game, use his toilet, you know? But with these guys? Nah, bruh. They just go straight for the kiss. And you know what, that’s pretty fucking cool. It makes your workouts take twice as long though.
Bone up on bros here
That’s your sixth meal today, and it’s only 5pm. You can’t remember the last time you were hungry, but that doesn’t matter. All that matters is you’ve got to eat and lift and roid and fuck cause that’s what good bulls do. No. You’ve gotta eat cause Coach told you to eat, and good bulls do whatever Coach says.
Get Jocked.
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When it’s past 2am and all the girls have left. That’s when the club really gets bouncin’.
Artist: Artisticjinsky
Bone up on bros here.
Waiting for the guy from Railr to show up. You’ve taken to using cocksuckers on a daily basis. You work from home and your wife has no idea about your new hobby. You always go for the fem ones. The pretty boys. The sissies. They love it. They think their little straight-chasing fantasies are coming true. What they don’t know is that you’re even more turned on than they are. You wish you had the balls to take it to the next step, maybe just kiss one of these sexy guys who look up at you from their knees, but you don’t. Not yet.
It’ll be our little secret
When you’ve been chatting with a daddy for months and he keeps sending you sluttier clothes to try on. This is what came today with the message; “Send Daddy something he can bust to, slut.” Just reading that you nearly bust yourself. You cleaned up, took some pics and sent them. “Fucking beautiful, slut,” he replied. “Now from the back.” You did what he said. You always did what he said. Daddy controlled the sauce; the beautiful poison that was transforming you before your eyes. He kept saying he wanted to meet up, that it was time for Daddy to collect his payment and take your virgin holes. That’s what he deserved as the man who gave you all this gear and all this time to turn you into the swole, inflated muscle whore you now were.
What can you say? You know that more gear is contingent on pleasing this man, and you want more. You need more. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you kind of wanted to meet him. To service him. He’d sent you so many pictures of his cock, and so much gay porn, it had kind of addled your mind.
You’re just praying your girlfriend doesn’t find out…
Fall into Daddy’s trap here.
“Babe, come on!”
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.
Bone up on bros here.
It’s late, close to midnight. Mark’s back at Sparta for the third time today cause where else would he be? And he’s all but alone with this beast. Huge and rippling, sweating and topless, lifting dangerously heavy weights and screaming out as he does; this is the man for Mark. Now is his time to serve.
So he approaches. Wearing his best slut-stud gear – stringer vest to reveal his nipples, shorts with a 4-inch inseam that hug his donk, and a backwards cap to make sure this alpha knows Mark’s intentions – he meets the alpha’s eye. He gives him his best good boi attitude. A boy’s frown and a pouting lip; Mark looks like a puppy you’ve just scolded.
“Hey,” says Mark.
The alpha looks him over, breathing heavy from his last set. “Cocksucker?” he says.
Mark’s eyes light up and he nods.
Without hesitation, the alpha stomps to Mark’s side and gives his body a proper examination. His large, unfettered hands molest Mark’s ass and he only sticks his butt out further to give the man full access.
“You get fucked too?” he says. His voice is bass-deep.
“Oh yeah,” says Mark. “Anything you want, bro. Anything.”
“Is that right?” His eyes continue their exploration. He pulls Mark’s shorts down to reveal his strapped ass and he digs around Mark’s hole to make sure it’s worth his time. It is.
“Most of the cocksuckers who hit on me aren’t as fuckable as you,” he says.
Of course, Mark loves that.
“Go wait in the locker room. I’ll finish my session then come fuck you.”
“Fuck yeah, bro.”
The alpha swats his ass. “I’m not your bro. What I’m about to do to your pussy I’d never do to a bro. You call me sir.”
“Yes, sir.”
And Mark leaves for the locker room, rock hard in his jock. The fact that the alpha insisted on finishing his session only makes Mark more infatuated. It would soon be his time to serve, and he was gonna do whatever he could to make sure this king came back for more.
Mark and all his Gym Bros
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The look Tony gives Mark after his car blowie. They’ve both got their pump on, full-body. Now that Mark’s seen to his immediate needs, Tony’ll head home to his pregnant wife and spend some good quality time, relaxed. Mark’s duty is done. Tasted good, too.
“Thanks, bro,” he says, kind and genuine.
Mark wipes the cum from his mouth and chin. “It was totally my pleasure, dude.”
“Went a bit hard on you there, though, huhu. You don’t mind, right?”
“Nope,” said Mark with a wink.
Tony sticks his fingers in Mark’s mouth, already rebooting for a potential second round. Mark revs up in excitement. But the moment passes. Tony pulls his fingers out with a wet plunging sound, kicks Mark out the car with a smile and drives off.
How so many of Mark’s hook-ups end. But this is Mark’s duty, so he’ll see it through.
Mark and all his Gym Bros
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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.
Get Jocked
Read the Jocked novels here