The biggest underwear they sell and shit doesn’t even fit. Typical Liberius problems.
Hear the lion’s roar
Show your pack spirit
Tag: chain
Your big dumb boyfriend and his big dumb friend about to learn why they called you Spitroast in college.
Your big dumb boyfriend awaits
That look your buddy gives you the morning after, before he puts on his wedding ring and goes back home to his wife.
It’ll be our little secret
Like most men, you bought into the delusion that loving, appreciating and fucking other men somehow sapped you of your own manhood. It was feminizing to be attracted to men. But once you finally started – once you let your walls fall down and truly began to engage with other men as a red-blooded man – everything changed. It didn’t suppress your masculinity, it enhanced it. Your love for men only makes you a better, stronger, more virile man. Kissing his bicep only makes you want to grow your bicep bigger. Making him cum only makes you want to cum with him. Letting him fuck you only makes you wanna fuck more. You know now that true masculinity must be homosexual.
Become a man
Waiting for the cocksucker to show up after work. He didn’t know what it was about a guy sucking his dick that turned him on so much. Maybe it was the taboo thing; doing what he “shouldn’t”. Maybe it was cause it was on the DL, just their little secret. Maybe it’s cause his cocksucker had the most beautiful pair of lips and fuckable little bubble butt that he’d-
Fuck.
It’ll be our little secret
The masculine virus spread with a kiss. It wasn’t so long ago that dude was wearing bowties and pink slacks, obsessing over the flower arrangement in the den, reciting the lyrics of the latest Taylor Swift album. But then, a chance hookup with a masc douchebag on Grindr, and everything changed. Without realizing it, without conscious thought, he wholesale replaced his wardrobe with the same shit the douche from Grindr wore. He bought a bunch of baseball caps, tanks and chains, redid his crib, found new music and shows, and started going to the gym. He’d always been lean and neat, but now he was putting on muscle. Real muscle. Like all the bros. Yeah, the bros. He was one of them now. A bro. Just like the dude he hooked up, who’d given him the virus.
While he can’t say for certain, he’s pretty sure the masculinity was transferred with a kiss. The douche’d been so adamant about it, and it had lasted so long. He can’t explain it, but the masculine energy within him is calling out to be spread. With every guy he hooks up, he makes sure to kiss them long and deep, to ensure they can become as bro-d out as he has. He feels like a soldier in an army, doing his part for the cause by hooking up and spreading the masc virus.
The bromos will not be happy until every gay is just like them.
Become a man
The married dad who “prefers the company of men”. He gives you a little wink, a wee pout, and once the missus is gone with the kids, you’re face down in his sheets getting the best pounding of your life.
You spend the next hour straddling his lap, making out slow and deep. Until her car rolls up into the drive. He sighs.
“So you’ll take the landscaping job then, kid?”
“Hell yes, sir.”
“Good boy.” He pats your butt and acts like nothing happened. At least, not until the next time it happens.
This cum’s Dad approved
The one more confident, the other a bit tentative. It’s all new to him, but he’s loving every minute.
It’ll be our little secret
“Yeah, babe. This business trip sucks and blows,” you say to your girl as you watch your fuck buddy slap his cock against his palm with a cheeky look in his eyes. “It really sucks!”
It’ll be our little secret
A scouter for the Barn spotted this meat at a football convention and intends to make an approach. How does a ten-year contract to breed fertile pussy and earn a dumptruck full of cash sound? Prove you’ve got the T levels we’re looking for, and that life’s yours.
It’s milking time
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
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.
Get Jocked
Read the Jocked novels here
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.
Get Jocked
Read the Jocked novels here
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.
Read the Jocked novels here
“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.
Read the Jocked novels here
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.
Read the Jocked novels here
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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*Read about Trace and Cole here on Amazon
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.
Mark and all his Gym Bros
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Mark’s first meeting with Bruno at Sparta was an unforgettable experience. He got one of the best fuckings he could remember. He was left hunched over in the sauna, splayed and cummy and sweating; head mince from being in bottom-space. He’d assumed Bruno’s dick was off-limits – a strange thing for my boi to assume. But so spectacular was Bruno that Mark truly believed himself unworthy. But not so. Now, he and Bruno are regular fuck buds.
Mark loves spending a Saturday night at Bruno’s penthouse pad. The bro is 40, Brazilian, and a total top. Total top. The type of gay dude who won’t even let himself be rimmed. Which is a pity, cause that hunk has an ass worthy of worship. Almost as nice as Mark’s.
Almost.
Mark’s still recovering from Bruno’s first dicking down of the evening. He’s smoking a joint trying to relax, psyching himself up for round two. Cause Bruno always comes back for round two. Poppers will help. Though against a thirty minute, 2nd load pounding from Bruno’s 9-inch Brazilian cunter, poppers might be a necessity.
Out on the balcony, he gives Mark a little glimpse of what he can’t have. What’s off-limits. Bruno likes his cheeky little teases. He knows Mark’s desperate to get his tongue in there, if not his cock. But Bruno hates it. He’s pretty toxic, to be honest. Thinks bottoming is for lesser men. Cocksucking too. It’s beneath him. Doesn’t bother Mark. He makes room in his life for all his beautiful bros. Tops, bottoms, givers, takers, the selfish, the selfless – Mark begrudges none of them. Bruno waggles his butt back and forth, snaps a little wink to Mark, then comes back in to fuck him silly with his huge Brazilian dick.
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