One of Coach’s bulls being prepped for a comp. Coach thinks he has what it takes to win the crown.
Coach doesn’t just train his boys for the sexual thrill, or because he wants to see more jocks making a nuisance in the world – though both are huge parts of his lifestyle and philosophy.
These men are assets, whether bull, jock or cheerleader. Bulls go into bodybuilding and rake in sponsorship money. Jocks get into pro sports and athletics. Cheerleaders can do modeling and exotic dancing. And all three make him a mint selling their bodies. Whether they wanna own and abuse a tight cheerleader boy, have some mutual masc4masc bro time with a jock, or get impregnated by a bull, there’s an army of men willing to hand over big cash for these guys.
It’s not often that Coach rears an Asian bull, but when he does, it’s always magnificent. They’re usually too small, too cute, just not masculine enough. They make perfect cheerleaders, and can make good jocks. But bulls? It’s just rare. But this boy is one of Coach’s favorites. He’s gonna make Coach a lot of money on stage, online, on tour. A lot of men are gonna be lining up to worship, fuck, suck and celebrate this glorious Chinese bull, and a lot of women are gonna pay to get bred by his elite seed.
Bull’s on his third milking of the day. One of the jocks is there, slobbering on his manhood. Bull takes a selfie to send to the other bulls. They’re getting milked too, so the sheer size of his pump is gonna help them bust mega loads.
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.
Ari might be the biggest bro in Sparta. He has the genetics for it, plus 15 years of roids and bulking and lifting with an intense singularity that’s left him the envy of every bro there. And he has a secret shame.
Ari’s a bottom.
A total submissive nelly bottom who just wants another man to put him in his place. He wants to be called a faggot. He wants to be spat on. He wants to drink a man’s piss. He wants a group of bullies to tie him up and force him to lick their asses while they laugh and jeer. He wants pain. He wants humiliation. He wants a real alpha to find out who he really is, and exploit it. He wants to be conquered.
The muscles are all bravado; armor against any personal or social presumption that he’s not man-enough. He had the genetics for it, and he leaned in. Ari looks like a super strong bull, but he feels like a frightened mouse.
And Mark’s happy to oblige his submissive desires. Ari’s got an ass to match those legs. Huge and powerful and completely intoxicating. And Mark enjoys shoving his dick into it as hard as he can while he calls Ari a dumb little fag.
He’d give the bull after-care if he was allowed. But once Ari’s has his fill of dom cock, he’s out of there. You won’t catch this bro kissing another bro. That shit’s gay, dude.
Even total bottom cocksucking submissive fags like Ari fall prey to the same delusions and mental stasis that forces men in their millions to claim they’re not attracted to men.
Whatever. Mark’s not here to change the world. He’ll let Ari have his secret shame and just enjoy playing with his unbeatable body. That ass though, bruhs, fuuu~
Dustin and Chase. Two of Mark’s regular suck jobs who have no clue about each other’s little secret. They all know Mark’s gay though, and are easy and open about it. They’re modern men – homophobia’s sus, dude!
Mark loves it when they’re in together, cause they just get so fucking bro-y.
“Marky really has some fucking cake, though, Jesus!” says Dustin as Mark bends down to do his dumbbell rows.
“Yeah, dude,” says Chase. “Wish my girl had an ass that thicc.” He gets in close to Mark, presses his crotch up against Mark’s hole, and spank’s him. He backs off in a rush, groping his junk, tongue sticking out, and laughing. Dustin joins him. The bros think this is so fucking funny.
“You, eh, bottom though, right?” says Dustin, as he too gets in close to Mark and pets his ass.
“Well yeah, bro,” says Mark. “Look at my ass.”
“Good fucking point,” says Chase. “That’d be a crime against gay dudes everywhere if you didn’t bottom.”
“Exactly,” says Mark.
Both men are just freely pawing at his ass.
“Things alright at home, boys?” says Mark.
Everyone laughs and goes back to working out.
Mark heads to the toilet, and finds himself cornered by Chase. No preamble, they find themselves in Mark’s favorite toilet stall, making out. Chase gropes his ass freely now. Before long, Mark’s on his knees taking Chase’s hard dick to the hilt.
They return to the floor; Chase relaxed, Mark heated. He wipes the remnants of cum from his lips as they find Dustin again.
“Playing battleshits, guys?” he says.
“Eh, yeah,” says Chase.
Mark winks at Chase from behind Dustin’s back, fully knowing he’d have Dustin in the same stall later that day.
Coach teaches by example. That’s why you’ll find him in the gym twice a day, everyday, and wearing appropriate attire. The jocks have gotta learn.
It’s hard for the boys to imagine their Coach as anything other than the masculine stalwart he is. Forty-odd, fifty-odd; huge, rugged, strong; the authoritative patriarch; sexually unassailable. But he was young once, he was a jock once. All coaches start as jocks. That time when they were spry and youthful and full of a boy’s mischief and charm.
Coach Schmidt was one of those jocks who knew from an early age that he was gonna go on to form his own tribe. He wanted to be a coach. He looked up to his own coach with intense awe. Once he graduated from his coach’s program and became a full-fledged jock, he went to the military. He needed to be in an ultra-masculine space; the sort of space that made him hot and excited, yet safe and happy. The military honed his machismo further and gave him command of a group of young men. When he returned to civilian life, he was ready to become a coach.
And so he got set-up at a college far from his own coach so as not to have conflict, then got to work building his Team of jocks. Just as his own coach did.
And now there’s over fifty people in his tribe; assistant coaches, jocks, bulls, cheerbois and runts. He’s rich and prosperous; his program is perfect; he has endless access to cocky jocks and beautiful cheerbois to keep his dick wet. But this empire takes work and determination to keep. That’s reflected in his body. A coach’s body is his empire, symbolically. He must be the biggest and strongest jock on the squad. He must lead by example.
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.
