Tag: fave

Obnoxious Roidhead

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

Bro’s such an obnoxious roidhead, everyone in the gym thinks his shouts and grunts are just him being extra about lifting. They don’t see Mark on his knees, giving him one of his world-class blowjobs. But that’s where he is, where he always is.

It’s men like this who really steal Mark’s attention. Chads. Everything about his person is soaked in testosterone. It’s the T Mark wants. He doesn’t care if most of it is synthetic, he just wants to be immersed in it, influenced by it, drowned in it. He’ll swallow as much high-T cum as he can – whether in throat or ass – cause that will bring him closer to the masculinity he loves so much.

The bro doesn’t understand any of that, or care. He’s getting an awesome blowjob from a beautiful man and has never gotten into the habit of thinking too deeply about shit. And that’s also how Mark loves him. Unthinking, obnoxious roidhead masculinity is the best kind. Tastiest cum, too.

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

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Time to Serve

January 4, 2024 / / 0 Comments

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.

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

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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

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

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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

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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

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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.

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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.

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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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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.

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.

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