20yo french guy, Owned by my Master.

Last update
2021-06-14 22:41:50

    What You Desire: Poll Story

    Personality Change. Masculine - Hairy, Dirty, Daddy. Straight to Gay. Mental Change - IQ Loss. Nerd to Jock. Muscle Growth. Race Change: Latino. Himbo TF. Changed By: Clothing/Wish Gone Wrong.

    Hope y’all enjoy! More stories coming soon.

    ( update after the flagging issue: thank you for your patience! i reposted every image by itself to find the culprits, and i even found two variants to make up for taking them out. we should be good to go!! )


    It had started off innocent. As innocent as stealing the college quarterback’s sweaty jockstrap could possibly be.

    I know how it seems, but Nathan here isn’t a pervert. He doesn’t even like guys, let alone the toxic fumes that the jocks around campus seem to produce. So if you’re thinking that he stole Miguel Vega’s underwear to sniff the piss and cum-stained glory in private, you’ve got it all wrong.

    If we’re being entirely honest, Nathan has always admired the jocks - in some quiet way that he’s never been able to put into words. As obnoxious as they are, always making vulgar jokes and putting fitness over their education, one fact remains true. They always get the girl.

    For all their belching and farting, smashing their heads together on the football field day in and day out, Nathan can’t deny that the jocks seem to have it all figured out. They’re the big guys on campus, always surrounded by friends and bringing a new girl back to their rooms each night. And Miguel is the top dog, the boss man, the undisputed king.

    As much as Nathan wants to be happy with his life, with his good grades and bright future and the strong friendships that he’s built with his teachers, well… he can’t help being envious of the other side. It’s lonely being a nerd. Only a few friends to call his own, invited to even fewer parties. Zero girls.

    Maybe that frustrated horniness is what made him steal Miguel’s jockstrap. He had been helping the janitors clean out the football locker room, hoping to add some volunteer hours to his already shining resume, and then there they were, Abandoned under a bench and reeking even from a distance. The straps were strained and the pouch was stretched. Only the biggest cock could pull that off.


    He grimaced as he stuffed them into the inside pocket of his hoodie without thinking, grateful for the gloves on his hands. He instantly felt dirty, the damp heat radiating against the side of his stomach, the raw smell already wafting up to his nose. He zipped up his hoodie and got back to work, but the whole time he was thinking of Miguel’s girlfriend, Cindy The head cheerleader, of course.

    Nathan couldn’t help but to wonder - was Cindy attracted to Miguel’s musk? The combined force of sweat, testosterone, and gas was only making his eyes water, but his dick started to chub up when he imagined Cindy breathing in the scent of Miguel’s armpits, licking his biceps clean. That’s the kind of girlfriend he wanted. Someone wild and freaky; someone who would worship every inch of him.

    But he wasn’t Miguel Vega. He was thin and tall, happy to wear his prescription glasses and button up shirts. He was Clark Kent without the alter ego, forever living his life as a shy, awkward nerd. Nathan wanted more. As much as it frightened him, he longed for Miguel’s life. To be carefree and popular, to have a body that made people want him, to have a girl like Cindy riding his cock.

    That night, he stripped off his clothes and held the jockstrap in his bare hands. His features looked uncomfortable in the mirror, and for a moment he considered stopping. This was ridiculous, and gross, and he was losing himself in the fantasy. He was always going to be a nerd. He would always be forgotten, and he’d never get the girl. But he couldn’t stop… he wanted more.

    All he wanted was a visual reminder of the goal he was about to set for himself, a way of looking himself in his blue eyes and telling himself that one day he could have what Miguel had. He slid the jockstrap over his long, pale legs, shivering as the sweat helped them to glide along his skin. The stretched fabric drooped on his waist, so he held it in place with a shy smile.


    He stared at himself for a long while, taking in his average looks and timid personality, only to glance down and see Miguel’s jockstrap on his slender body. Breathing in the rank scent of him, letting himself imagine that it was his own. Pretending like one day his body could swell to fill the fabric, that his cock could support the large pouch. That a girl could place herself between his legs and breathe him in. Nathan’s musk. Not Miguel’s.

    Nathan opened his eyes with a euphoric smile, making a promise to himself to start working out, to put less pressure on himself in his classes, to learn how to talk to girls. “I wish I was worthy of wearing these,” he whispered to himself as his fingers hooked around the straps, thrusting his hips into the soiled underwear. “I will be.”

    For a moment, he imagined Miguel’s reflection staring back at him in the mirror. That’s the kind of guy he was going to become. A stud, a superstar, a king. A real pussy hound. He knew it was silly, thinking he could go from being himself to being anything like Miguel, but he had to let himself believe. It would be a long road to become worthy of wearing the star quarterback’s jockstrap.


    “I wish it could happen sooner.”

    And that’s when he yelped in pain, breaking free from his imagination and glancing down at the jockstrap constricting around his waist. It seemed to vibrate with life, sliding its wet fabric along his cock shaft and causing him to moan. Out of nowhere the loose underwear had become snug on him, grinding itself against him in an impossible way.

    He cupped his hands over his crotch, trying to swallow down his moans, trying to ignore the energy that was swelling inside of him. “You’ll be worthy of me,” an unfamiliar voice purred in his mind, making him glance around the room in fear. “Look down at your new master.” He lowered his gaze to jockstrap, shining with a blue light, still working its sweaty fabric along his cock.

    “You’ll be a stud.” Nathan gasped in pleasure, knees buckling as he crashed to the floor. The energy inside of him swelled to the surface, and he watched in shock as his body began to inflate with thick muscle. His chest ballooned out into a perky pair of pecs, his stomach became broad and firm, even his waist began to spread out, stretching the shrunken jockstrap back to its former size.


    And then it kept stretching, his legs becoming massive tree trunks, his hands still pawing at his crotch. Even as his fingers became thick and meaty, his biceps swelling until they rubbed against his bloated chest. He could feel the cold floor against his ass, but even that was slowly swallowed by muscle and fat, lifting him up higher. “You think Miguel was worthy of me? I want a man.”


    Nathan tried to steady himself, but his new body felt foreign and strange. Everything was rubbing against something, causing his body to keep shaking in pleasure. Even as the itching started, he couldn’t stop himself from rolling onto his stomach, thrusting against the air as dark, wiry hair broke through the surface of his skin. It spread everywhere that he could see, and where he couldn’t, he could feel the warmth of the hair sprouting into forests. He touched his sensitive nipples, piercings and tattoos manifesting out of nowhere.

    ( click here for a hidden GIF )

    Inside the jockstrap, he felt his lengthening cock throb against the thick bush around it, and he could feel the hairs thickening beneath his arms and on his chest. It was everywhere. His ass, his face, a stinging kind of pleasure that made him let out a howl of pain and euphoria. “A grown man. The only thing Miguel had going for him was his race.”

    Nathan lifted his hands to his now bearded face, still shivering in pleasure and watching as they became weathered and worn, darkening with a tan from many years out in the sun… and then darkening further, watching the complexion drip down his arms and move across his chest, over his body in waves and up past his throat. He could only imagine what was becoming of him. He knew what he was becoming.

    He moved his eyes to the mirror again, seeing the last of this new change as his new beard connected with his ginger hair, staining it black as the curls became thicker and glossier, his whole body shining with sweat and dark hair, looking like he’d lived his entire life under the sun. He was glorious, and handsomely matured, the pinnacle of Latino sexiness. “You’ll be a superstar. I want sweat, and filth, and I want you to want it, too.”


    There was a flash of blue light, and then something moved beneath Nathan. He looked down in shock, then at his surroundings, trying to make sense of why he was suddenly straddling another man in a room he couldn’t recognize. He felt his dick become softer, trying to remove himself from this unknown hunk, before the horny man tightened his grasp on Nathan’s waist. He smiled so sexily.

    The voice came from inside his head again.

    “I want men, Nathan. You want them, too. My whole existence is worshipping cock.” Nathan felt his features shift with anxiety, feeling himself come to the surface for the first time. It had been so easy to lose himself in the pleasure, enjoying every moment of what the jockstrap was making him become, but now he was afraid. He didn’t want this. He wanted to be on top of a woman, feeling her squirm beneath him. Not this meathead.

    “Your whole existence is worshipping cock.”

    Then his mind snapped, and he let his lust take control. The stranger cried out in pleasure as Nathan lifted the guy’s leg to get easier access to his ripe asshole. He lowered the waistband of his jockstrap and wasted no time plowing the stud on his king sized bed. “Cum on me,” he spoke in accented English, unable to take his eyes off the younger man’s cock. “Cover me with it. Please.”


    ( click here for a hidden GIF )

    “And don’t forget worshipping pits. Ass. Anything sweaty. That’s what you and I are built for, after all.”

    Nathan didn’t hesitate, still thrusting his cock in and out of the sweaty asshole as he leaned down, shoving his face into the nearest armpit. His large tongue started licking up the sweet taste, shoving his nose and entire face into the glorious warmth, making the stranger cry out in ecstasy.


    “Don’t you feel like a king now? Don’t you feel worthy of me?” But Nathan couldn’t even think of a reply, he couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t a thick cock, or a man’s sweaty body. He only wanted to be used, to be worshipped, to worship in return. “I am a man. A superstar. A king.” With a shock, he recognized the deep, accented baritone in his head as his own voice. His new voice. He had been listening to himself speak the entire time.


    His jockstrap started squirming again, but he ignored the feeling. He felt like a jockstrap in human form now, made to devour cock and suck up sweat, bringing home a new man each and every night, never washing the scent of them out of his beard or off his body, always reeking and stained and loving every fucking minute of it.


    He started doing porn under the screen name miguelsjockstrap69, though he never introduced himself with that name. He went by Rodrigo Royale in person, a real himbo of a man that had the gay community wrapped around his thick, smelly finger. His videos were the filthiest, and he had no standards. If you had a cock, he wanted to explore every inch of it.


    “So, like, who is Miguel?” his conquests would sometimes ask after filling themselves up on his pit stink, and he’d chuckle to himself and flex his huge biceps for them to worship. “Nobody important. Just an old friend.” He was a man Miguel could only dream of becoming. A stud. A superstar. A king.


    Funnily enough, he had a strange habit of calling his worn out, stained yellow jockstrap Nathan - not that his hook ups or fans cared, they thought it was hot. He was always wearing that jockstrap. Getting a chance to get between Rodrigo’s legs and sniff Nathan was worth every penny, and they both loved to please. Sometimes you could even see the underwear squirming in excitement.

    Maybe fear.


    ( click here for a hidden picture )

    “Yeah, Nathan,” Rodrigo purred in private. “You’re worthy of me now.”


    The DRONE boots up in a clean white room, with glass and shiny surfaces.

    « I am DRONE D2340. I’m a scally DRONE. I must OBEY » is the only thing he can think of.

    It realizes it is indeed clad as a scally chav. Sneakers, trackies, cap, SOX and sneaks. A part of him is confused. « Wait, something’s not right »

    D2339 enters the room. He his dressed the same. He looks D2340 and says


    « DRONE KIFFEUR OBEY », D2340 repeats

    Kneel and suck

    D2340 kneels and releases D2339’s cock.


    D2340 keeps sucking as he’s been told, while mechanically taking out his own cock and stroking. All the while thinking « I am DRONE D2340. I’m a scally DRONE. I must OBEY »


    If you’re a drone reading this, send a DM and reinforce your programming by stating your number, your kind of drone, and acknowledging that you must OBEY.


    It is a rare to find a boy who shows resistance. I am a SOXMASTER and I can tell you it’s actually pretty easy to reveal the SOXBOY inside many men and turn them into my personal SOXslaves. But sometimes, there is one who’s more challenging.

    I could just leave it at that and move on to another prey, but would I be worthy of the title « Master » if I gave up because of some small challenge ? No. Remember that it is my duty to convert him to the SOX.

    I met this twink on the apps. The conversation was interesting and he was cute. Although, along the conversation, came the topic of kinks as my SOXMASTER status is clearly stated. He told me we could meet but that he wasn’t into anything « gross » so there would be nothing about SOX. I’m used to that answer so I knew it wasn’t something I couldn’t overcome.

    A few hours later, he’s at my door. As I welcome him in, I tell him this is a no shoes on place. I’m wearing some pretty mild SOX not to scare him off too quickly. As we begin foreplay on my couch, I slip my foot up to his nose and press. He takes a sniff and I see his muscle relax, but he quickly regains composure and removes my foot « Sorry dude I told you I’m not into that ». « My bad, I forgot, but at least I tried ;) », I reply. But I saw. There’s potential here.

    A few days later, we get in touch again on the apps and he’s back at my place. This time, I took out some SOX to slightly stink up my apartment and lower his resistance. I also placed a pair of stronger SOX under the pillows on my couch. « Let’s do this on the bed » I say as I start opening him up. He closes his eyes, enjoying the moment, lowering his guard. That’s the moment I strike.

    I place my SOX on his head and my hand on his neck. The smell in my place has already made him servile enough that he won’t stop. So I push my foot in his face and talk to him as I stroke his cock.

    I am a SOXMASTER

    I want you to understand that you are a SOXBOY

    There’s no need to fight the SOX

    You were born to OBEY and WORSHIP them

    It just feels so good to SNIFF and OBEY

    So you just SNIFF and OBEY

    And you wish to SNIFF SOX as often as you can

    Because that’s what a SOXBOY does

    You SNIFF SOX and when you SNIFF you OBEY


    And it feels great to be a GOOD SOXBOY, so you want to be one


    You need to SUBMIT to your SOXMASTER and get a shot of my SOX right in your nose

    It’s what you crave

    It’s your place

    It’s what you were born to do

    So WORSHIP the SOX

    OBEY the SOX

    And CUM for the SOX

    Another SOXslave for me 😈


    He makes me hard! 🍆💦🤤


    He was just a weak, hairless little punk when you last saw him. Good fodder for knocking around. But it’s been a few months, and now he’s one of Daddy Jay’s boys. Bulked and inked the fucked up. Smoking a cigar furiously as he makes his way toward you. That look in his eyes is something you’d never seen from him when you used to knock him down a notch. His eyes are full of confidence. He approaches you, getting right in your face.

    He cocks his head, draws deep on his cigar, exhaling right at you. “You remember me, boss? I know you haven’t forgotten me.” His hand lands heavy on your shoulder. All you can smell his sweat and smoke, your head spinning. It’s intoxicating. You can barely speak, your eyes locked with his. “Let’s see who’s a little punk now, huh?” He blows his smoke at you again, as your mind swims and your thought become hazy. His hand pushes you slowly to your knees, and you see him reveal his cock. “First, I’m gonna feed you, then I’m gonna change you. Daddy Jay needs boys.” He pulls your head toward his crotch, and his cock slips into your mouth. On an instinct you can’t begin to comprehend you begin servicing your new cigar master. He moans in pleasure, as your mouth does it’s work, knowing he’s finally tearing his bully down.

    His dick thrusts and throbs in and out of your throat as your own thoughts fade. With a loud grunt his warm cum fills your mouth, seeding your body with his powerful, transformative seed. He lifts you to your feet. “Now we’ll be equals. Now we’ll be brothers,” he said as he slips his wet cigar nub into your mouth, the taste of tobacco and smoke mingling with his cum. As he leads you back to Daddy Jay to begin your own transformation and training a small voice, deep in your subconscious tries to cry out for this to stop. But there is no stopping this. This the fate you decided for yourself. This is what you’re about to become.


    Not all the newly converted cigar boys end up geared up pigs. Ryan was left mostly the way they found him. Besides he almost seemed to enjoy the training, seemed to have awoken a swagger and an attitude him. They liked that. Better to keep him as he was. Made recruiting his friends all that easier.

    “Come on over, bro. I got a surprise you’re not gonna believe...”


    I would love to be like Ryan

    Colton was sitting on the couch and staring deeply into the television, as he had been for two hours. The man slowly walked up behind the couch and wrapped a hand around Coltons forehead. He slowly guided his head back tilting it so that he could look down into Colton’s mesmerized eyes. They were red, completely burned out from the long session of hypnosis.

    “What are you?” asked the man.

    “I am a cigarslave” replied Colton in a voice which cracked with disuse.

    The man used his other hand to slide the wet end of a thick, smoldering cigar into Colton’s waiting, trembling lips. Colton attempted to wrap his lips around it, to seal his fate and begin his life as a cigar smoking slave, but the man continued to press the cigar deeper and deeper into Colton’s mouth. Only once the cigar was pressed against the back of his throat was did Colton finally close his lips and teeth, locking the cigar into place as he sucked greedily.

    cigarslave was allowed to lift his head and his eyes reverted to staring at the television. The spiral was different, but the old spiral seemed so long ago. Each new breath of smoke made the spiral bigger, and bigger, causing it to pulsate. Slowly the spiral stretched its way around cigarslaves vision just before wrapping tightly around his head. He felt warm pure joy as his heterosexuality melted away and his brain filled with desire for cigars and cock.


    “When I take off my TN, you will see my beautiful SOX. They will be so powerful that you won’t be able to resist them. Why, you say ? If I had the answer for that, I’d tell you. But once you are inducted in the SOX cult, it just becomes something you have to do.

    Obey the SOX. Worship the SOX. Convert others.

    The smell will hit your brain fast. It will rewire your neurons and make you feel very submissive to them. You will want to have them on your face after awhile. Then, you will kneel in front of me and jerkoff. I will put my foot and SOX on your nose and you will become a good SOXBOY. This is how I was converted. You will be too.

    Depending on your nature, you will either be a SOXMASTER or a SOXslave. Seeing how you’re just sitting here and listening to me, not trying to run away, I can see what your place is going to be. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been playing with my shoe on and off while you were listening to me and the smell is so potent it’s already working.”

    “Are you a SOXMASTER, Sir ?”

    “You will find out right away, SOXBOY”.

    And then your new Master took off his Tn


    “Lorsque j'enleverai ma TN, tu verras mes SOX trop belles. Elles seront si puissantes que tu ne pourras pas leur résister. Pourquoi ? Si j'avais La réponse je te La donnerais bien… mais une fois que tu as été enrôlé dans le culte des SOX, ça devient juste naturel.

    Obéir aux SOX. Vénérer les SOX. Convertir d'autres mecs.

    Leur odeur va te monter au cerveau direct. Elle va reprogrammer tes neurones et te faire te sentir très soumis à leurs ordres. Tu auras rapidement envie de les avoir sur ta gueule. Tu te mettras à genoux devant moi et tu te branleras. Je mettrai mon pied en SOX sur ton nez et tu deviendras un bon SOXBOY. C'est comme ça qu'on m'a converti. C'est comme ça que tu le seras.

    En fonction de ta nature tu seras soit un SOXMASTER soit un SOXslave. Mais bon quand je vois que tu restes assis ici à m'écouter et que tu ne résistes pas’, je vois bien ta future place. Ou peut être est-ce parce que je joue avec ma TN depuis tout à l'heure et que les petits shoots d'odeur dans ton nez sont si puissant qu'ils font déjà leur effet.”

    “Et toi tu es un SOXMASTER ?”

    “Tu vas le savoir tout de suite, SOXBOY”.

    Et ton nouveau Maître enleva sa TN.


    And that is the way the process works and you can never go back to any other way of finding satisfaction?, boy. Say “Thank you Master ” and embrace the magic of feet!


    I hadn’t even taken off my shoes from walking into my apartment when I heard my roommate calling me from his bedroom.

    “Hey Joey, come in here!”

    Jesus. I just got in from work and already I have to deal with Ben again. Sometimes you just want a minute to yourself to relax, right? And it felt lately like I never had a quiet second alone- Ben had always acted like he owned the entire place since day one, and it had only gotten worse since he’d started working remotely. It seems like he only leaves to go to the gym or to go get drunk with one of his ex-frat bro friends.

    I sighed and set my bag down.

    “What is it, Ben?”

    “You won’t believe who I ran into today at the gym,” he called, as I slumped up the hallway to his room.

    Another empty-headed jock? I wanted to say. How can you even tell them apart?

    “Who’s that?” I asked, feigning interest.

    “Michael,” said Ben. “Your ex.”

    I stopped. Great. When assholes collide. I turned into Ben’s room. He sat on his bed shirtless, leaning against his headboard, his meaty legs barely contained by a pair of blue gym shorts.

    “We talked about you,” Ben continued. “I told him you’d been a pain in the ass lately.”

    “Hey, fuck you!” I snapped, my anger rising.

    “Michael said you can get that way,” Ben said calmly, seeming not to notice or care. “He said he had a little solution for when you got too uptight.”

    Oh fuck. I thought. He wouldn’t fucking dare.

    “Don’t you even fucki-”

    Sleepy Boy.

    The shout died in my throat. It felt like a battering ram had just hit my chest.

    “Well, I’ll be fucked,” said Ben, grinning.

    “Don’t… you…” I mumbled. “Fuck you, you….”

    Sleepy Boy,” said Ben again, assertive.

    My hands fell to my side.

    Sleepy boy.”

    My jaw hung loose. Unwanted relaxation flooded my body. I was… I was angry? Right? Wasn’t I? About… something…

    “Sleepy boy.”

    Mmmm, that warm feeling, flooding my shoulders, suddenly no longer tight. I was almost swaying on my feet. So relaxed, so… calm.

    “Like I was saying,” Ben continued. “You’ve been a real upright prick lately. Annoying as fuck when you get home.”

    Hmm? Had I been? Huh.

    “But now you’re not,” he smiled. “Because you’re my dumb little Sleepy Boy.”

    Mmmm, yeah. That sounded nice.

    “No stress. No nagging your roommate. Just happy and dumb, knowing that I’m in charge here, right, Sleepy Boy?”

    “You’re… in charge….” I mumbled.

    “In fact, whenever you come home, your brain just empties right out, doesn’t it, Sleepy Boy?”

    Yeah. Just empty. That’s why it was so relaxing to come home. I didn’t have to worry about anything here.

    “Whenever you see me, you get happy, and relaxed, because you never have to think anymore.”

    So happy to see Ben. Because he’s in charge. So nice that he can think for me.

    “And when I’m shirtless, Sleepy Boy, you get excited. Because you like to see me shirtless, don’t you?”

    My heart leapt in my chest as I looked at Ben’s hairy pecs. They were… so nice to look at. So meaty, and… I wished I could just stare at them forever.

    “Mmmm….” I managed.

    “Because you’re whoever I want you be when you’re home, right Sleepy Boy?”

    Every time he said those magic words…. it just felt so… right, so, relaxing. My brain feeling like it was being continuously dunked in a warm bath.

    “Like, if I want you to be my little Pit Pig, you’ll want to smell my pits, won’t you, Sleepy Boy?”

    He raised his arm.

    Fuck, I did. I really did.

    “Because you know if you smell me, you’ll get even happier and dumber, and more relaxed, won’t you?”

    I would. Oh god, if I could just bury my nose in there.

    I must have been almost drooling.

    “Awww,” cooed Ben. “You’re my dumb little pit bitch, aren’t you? My empty-headed, little scent whore.”

    I was.

    “You need my smell, don’t you, Sleepy Boy?”

    It hit like fire in my chest. God, yes, I needed it. I needed his hot, musky smell deep in my lungs.

    “It makes you so dumb, and so horny, doesn’t it, boy?”

    My boner twitched in my pants.

    “Yes….” I whispered.

    Ben gave a cocky half-grin, staring at me.

    “Well come get it, Sleepy Boy.”

    I practically jumped toward his upraised arm, burying my face in his pit.


    As I inhaled, I could feel my whole mind crumble. His manly scent, I just needed-

    I inhaled again.

    It just washed over everything, no other thoughts, just that-

    Ben. Smell.

    “Good boy,” Ben said, and I could faintly feel his hand on the back of my head, pulling me in further.

    Ben. Inhale. His. Him. Ben, in charge. So happy.

    Good Sleepy Boy.

    So dumb, so empty. Breathe. Fuck, his dumb little pit boy. Breathe, more.

    Some part of my brain barely registered Ben as he continued to say… something.

    How I wasn’t his roommate anymore, just his stupid little pit whore. How grateful I was to live with him, to be owned by him.

    Breathe. Him. His. So lucky.

    How I couldn’t hold a thought in my head the second I saw him shirtless. How much I needed his smell, how submissive it made me feel.

    Breathe. Full, empty, need.

    How horny I’d be when he smiled. How even eye contact would bring me to my knees.

    Breathe, so… happy, so…

    “Now give me a smile, Sleepy Boy,”

    I grinned, stupidly. I was fully collapsed on his massive frame.

    There’s was only Ben. His smell. His chest. Breathe.

    “That’s the way things are going to be now, Sleepy Boy. Say goodbye to any other thoughts.”


    “Good Sleepy Boy. My dumb little Sleepy Boy.”

    Breathe. Yes. Again. His. His. Dumb. His.

    Breathe, proof of him, his. Yes.

    Dumb. Full. Empty.





    There’s so much I love about my life.

    But there are still moments I’d throw it all away to have my mind melted by the words and smell of a guy like Ben, to devote myself completely to the happiness of a man I would never respect in my daily life.

    Good thing it’s only fantasy. Right?


    I Was Just Being Ironic, Bro


    That’s how it started, you see.  With irony.  With a joke.  A joke Daniel made about grabbing em by the pussy.  Jared said it was kinda offensive, man.  Daniel doubled down, saying he was just being ironic, explaining how he’d never be that misogynist, obviously.

    Jared did end up laughing, just not wanting to be rude more than anything.  I mean, they were friends and obviously Daniel didn’t swing that way.

    But one joke turned into another joke, days later.  And another.  And the ways things were spiraling, soon the two roommates – they lived in a shared house of four – were joking about it all the time.  Pretending to be alt-right.  Pretending because it was fun, it was funny, it was something to do, a way to make fun of guys who acted like that while simultaneously getting to feel what it was like to be that sort of guy themselves.

    They were pretty regular guys.  But it became funny to pretend they were jock studs, too.  “I dare you to work out, bro,” Daniel goes one night.  “I fucking dare you.  If you can do 100 pushups consecutively, I’ll even let you grab me by the pussy,” Daniel goes, grabbing his own cock and balls through his shorts for emphasis, which wasn’t hard since he was freeballing that night.

    “Oh yeah?” Jared said, “Watch this, bro.”  He only made it to fifteen, laughing, but they kept up their dare.  Jared was building some pipes on those arms.  And months later, after a few shots of whiskey, he hit one hundred pushups for the first time in his life.

    “Dude, if I’m gonna grab you by the pussy, I want to see you wearing those Old Glory shorts.”  Yeah, the shorts Daniel bought to be ironic.  Jared knew those.

    And he did grab Daniel’s cock and balls through the shorts, holding onto them tight, laughing, squeezing.  “Ouch, dude, that fuckin’ hurts,” Daniel said.  It was hilarious.  They were so drunk.

    But then it was Jared’s turn to dare Daniel, saying he should get as pumped as he was, that is if he could ever catch up.  “I’m working on 120 pushups, bro, and look at you.  Fuckin’ puny.  Little Daniel.  I dare you, bro.  You can grab me by the pussy if you ever catch up.”

    Daniel wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.  And soon his guns were just as big, if not bigger.  Their jokes were becoming almost infamous in the house.

    “Drop and give me 20, Daniel. ‘Merica!” “Come on, tiny hands, let’s see if you can beat me at arm-wrestling.” “Aww, so hot, bro.  You and that MAGA cap.  I bet you’ll be able to score all the pussy you want if you wear that out to the bars.” “Lock her up, lock her up!” Daniel said to Jared when he was drunk off his ass, trying to tie him to his chair with rope.  The guys loved horsing around.

    Jared and Daniel both had American flag shorts, now.  They had flag tank tops, t-shirts, hats, even MAGA caps.  They were getting to be pretty buff guys.  Acting like right-wing jockbros had been ironic, but now they looked pretty convincing in the part after working out so much and buying the gear they bought.  Vocal inflections, ironic at first, now sounded more and more legit as they got their impersonations down pat.  Sometimes they’d go out and hit the bars, ham it up, see who they fooled, which was pretty much everybody.

    They were good at this.  It was fucking funny and fun as hell.

    Drunk one night, Daniel found himself confessing to Jared that he thinks it’s really hot when Jared acts like a MAGA guy.  “Yeah bro?” Jared said, “I think it’s hot too.  Makes me feel hot.  It’s like everything I secretly want to be when I’m like this.”

    “Yeah bro?” Daniel said, “I think that’s so fucking hot, man.  You look great as one of those guys.  I almost feel like I could grab you by the pussy for real, bro.” “Why don’t you do it then, bro,” Jared said, “When we’re home.  I fucking dare you, bro.  Get those tiny hands on this big cock of mine.  Bet you don’t have the balls.”

    But turned out Daniel did have the balls, and when he took Jared’s cock in his mouth behind that locked bedroom door, all Jared could say was, “Fuck, bro.  MAGA, bro.  That’s so fuckin’ hot, bro,” before he came, five minutes later, flooding Daniel’s mouth with white hot cum.

    Their workouts accelerated.  Their jock act accelerated, too.  And the sexual interactions began to pick up steam.  It took a few weeks until they had the guts to get drunk enough for the second encounter.  “Dude, I just… I swear I’m not queer or anything like that, but when you pull off your red-blooded true American act, when you really sound like you live to vote red, it just does something to me.  It’s like a trigger.  And you know I don’t swing that way either, but when you do sound really convincing… sometimes it makes me wish you would, even.  Is that bad to say?” Daniel said.

    “Nah, it’s not bad, bro,” Jared said, giving him a deep-tongued kiss.  “It just means you’re in love with a real man and what a man’s meant to be.  I think it’s hot, too.  We should try to act like this all the time.  Like, not break character even and really perfect it.”

    And soon they weren’t even breaking character, buff as hell, jocked up as hell, and their secret sex life, well, it was getting hotter than ever.  “Suck my cock, MAGA bro,” Jared would say, as Daniel, in nothing but an American flag jock strap and MAGA hat, worked his meat for a full hour, heavy metal blaring, Jared was just flexing and smirking down at him.  Damn, this was hot.  Look at the muscle Daniel has put on.  And he was still putting on more all the time.

    “Dude, sometimes I feel like you really are gonna vote Trump, like you really mean it.  And you know how that makes me feel?  So fucking hot dude, like hot enough that I’d even let you fuck my ass.” “Fucking awesome, man.  Yeah, if you said you are gonna vote Trump, I would want to suck your cock even, man.  I would fuck your ass for hours.”

    “You dare me, bro?  I’m starting to feel like we really should.  I mean, the thought it so hot to me.  I know it’s wrong but maybe it’s not.  I don’t know why I think it’s so hot but it really is.”

    “It’s because libtards ruined masculinity, man.  Nature made us this way I’m pretty sure.  Like I didn’t choose this.  Nobody would.” “That’s so hot, man, oh my God, that’s so fucking hot.  Hearing you say libtards.”

    “Yeah, man?” Jared said.  “Libtards.  Fucking retarded limp-dicked libtards.”

    Daniel was boned as hell.  “You can say that to me anytime you want, man.  I hope you do.  Take it as seriously as you want to, all this MAGA stuff.  I think it’s so much hotter when you really get into it.  I want to get all the way into it.  Fuck, man, I want to vote Trump.”

    “Do it, dude.  It makes me hard to hear that.  I think I’d be rock hard at this point if I voted for Trump on November 3.”

    “You should fucking do it, dude.  If you swear you’re voting Trump, you can fuck me.  I love you like this.  So hot, bro.”

    “Fuck yeah it’s hot, bro.”

    It wasn’t long after that until the guys were really pushing it with each other.  Jared would even choke Daniel, getting him to swear that he was proud to be an American and that he was voting Trump.  That was hot.  “Lick these MAGA pits,” Jared would say, and Daniel would, drooling and slobbering and moaning over the fur, sweat and musk there.

    Jared got down on his knees and sucked Daniel’s cock for hours while Daniel streamed a litany of MAGA-related lines to him, told him everything he wanted to hear about being a real man, told him everything about what he was becoming.  It was almost hypnotic.  It was hot as hell so the guys just kept doing it with each other.  What was Verboten was hot.

    Their roommates thought they were acting crazy, which was kind of funny because they didn’t even see the sexual encounters or seem to catch on to any of it.  As least Jared and Daniel hoped they didn’t, and part of them thought, fuck it, if those guys really saw any of it or figured it the fuck out, they were just libtards anyhow.  Who really gives a fuck what libtards think?  And it was hot to snicker about what losers their roommates were, even though they liked this living arrangement.  It was hot to just casually chill around the house in American flag shorts or in a flag bandana or in Jared’s flag tank top from Urban Outfitters.  If the roommates asked, they usually just tossed it off as being ironic or made a joke about it.  “’Merica, bro,” Jared would say and laugh.

    “You closet case,” Daniel would say, pulling Jared in behind the door and locking it, pulling him in for a kiss. “Yeah, you like this though, bro,” Jared would say, kissing back.  “Real men would never admit to this stuff.  If I were a fagtard you wouldn’t be into me.” “Damn straight I wouldn’t,” Daniel said, squeezing his bro’s biceps.  “Wouldn’t be into you if you were a wimp like you used to be, either.” “Fuck yeah, bro.  You used to be so fucking weak, too.  Now look at you.  Total MAGA bro.  So fucking hot, man.  You’re like the American Fag Wet Dream or some shit, fucking love it,” Jared said, slobbering all over him in a passionate kiss.

    “Dude, I fucking love it too, man.  You should fuck me, man.  Fuck me in the pussy, bro.  I want your big, hard MAGA cock in there.”

    “Yeah?  Let’s fucking hump, man.  I want to ride you like a cowboy, bro.  It’s time, bro.  Say you’re into Trump, bro.” “You know I’m into Trump, bro.  Fuck my ass, dude.  Make my pussy great again.  This is so fucking hot, bro.  I want you to take my cherry, bro.  Lick my cherry, bro.  That’d be so hot, bro.”

    Jared found himself on his knees behind Daniel’s hairy ass, spreading apart his furry hole, teasing it with a finger, teasing it with his tongue.  “MAGA, bro,” Daniel was saying, looking back at him as best as he could.  “Fuck me in the pussy.  You can do anything.  Use my ass.  Fuck my furry hole, bro.”

    It was so hot.  Jared was diving in with his tongue, slobbering on Daniel’s hole, getting it sloppy and wet, moaning and groaning, really getting into it as best as he could, grabbing his friend’s asscheeks with his hands and pulling them apart like a man in command.  “Fucking MAGA!” Jared said, his voice sounding rough, wild, and beastly as he came up for air.  This was so fucking hot.

    “Fucking MAGA is right, bro,” Daniel said.  “Eat my ass, bro.  Eat my pussy.  Kiss it.  Grab my by the pussy, get your hands in there.  I want you to wreck my fucking pussy, bro.  You can do anything.”

    Jared was going nuts on Daniel’s ass, and then he was mounting him, probing him at first with his cock and then sliding it in up to the hilt.  “Take it, you fucking fag,” Jared said, gasping for air, feeling a shift, feeling a change in the air.

    Just a minute before Daniel had been bossing Jared around.  But with his cock in his friend’s pussy, he was having some sort of revelation, almost like the Book of Revelations, he thought, flashing back to Bible school, remembering the value of making a turn back to… it was confusing, hard to explain.  This was such a profound moment.  He didn’t want to fuck it up.  He didn’t want to let his friend down.  But he was realising something… he was the guy in command and Daniel, poor, bent-over Daniel below him, was being humiliated by having taken a cock up his ass.  Daniel wasn’t a real man at all.  Daniel was more like some sort of fag, Jared thought, realising that it had been almost instinctual to call his former friend a faggot as soon as he slid it in.  And then Jared realised the truth: he already thought of Daniel as a former friend.

    “You fucking fag bitch, take it,” Jared shouted, louder this time, hearing his own masculine voice echo off the walls in the small bedroom.  Daniel was just moaning and panting like the fag he probably was.    And when Jared finally came, reaching around to grip onto Daniel’s broadened pecs, his firm, thick-ass MAGA pecs, Jared realised that Daniel was now just a fag to be used.  A MAGA fag was better than a regular fag, though, and so Jared fully intended on making a lot of use out of his former friend’s newly widened hole.  But never again would Jared be the one getting on his knees and sucking Daniel’s cock, oh no, as that would be wrong.

    This would be about humiliating his former friend and ripping his clothes off him behind locked doors from now, about making him suck cock only to spit on his face and make him lick the soles of Jared’s feet while Jared beat his meat.  This would be about capitalising on Daniel’s need for a real man and getting him to hand over $50 if he wants a lot of kissing and heavy petting, which he was bound to agree to because he was such a sweaty, pathetic fag of a man.  This would be about the kissing and heavy petting leading to drugging Daniel with roofies and raping that faggot’s hot hungry hole from now on.  This would be about Daniel trying to cuddle in the morning and Jared pushing him the fuck off him, saying “I don’t cuddle with fags, so hands off me,” as Daniel just got even harder and beat his meat on the side of the bed just looking at Jared relax with his hands behind his head, smirk on his face.  This would be about Daniel begging to lick Jared’s MAGA pits.  This would be about Daniel desperately falling onto his knees to suck Jared’s MAGA cock, only to be slapped upside the head and spit on.  This would be about Daniel waiting with his bare ass and exposed hole in the air, silently, on Jared’s bed when Jared got him so that Jared could get pissed off, call him a fag, slap that ass, and ram it in raw, saying “I hope it hurts, you fucking faggot, I’m gonna teach you a lesson you’ll never forget.”

    But one thing wouldn’t change:  even when the pain of taking a raw cock and receiving raw seed was so humiliating that Daniel had silent tears streaming down his face, even when Daniel was choking on Jared’s cock as he was being skull-fucked against his pillow, eyes glazed and staring upward at the face of a real man, the guys would still say “MAGA, bro” and fist-bump.  Daniel knew it still turned Jared on to hear it, even from a fag such as himself, and he couldn’t help but use it as much as he could.  Because Jared, after years of this hot reinvention of himself, had become the man of his dreams.  And Daniel, fag that he was, serviced Jared in every way Jared could make use of, too.  A fag was just a fag, but a hole was a hole, and Jared’s stretched out cunt was more than serviceable, even as it widened into an every more embarrassing, stretched-out cunt of a hole.

    “Grab me by the pussy,” Daniel would still grunt when in the thrall of his lust with Jared.  But by this point in time, Jared wasn’t using a finger or two, he was sliding his whole fist in there only to later hump and pound that ass until that hole was totally wrecked, jizz streaming out of it, the whole thing wide and brokeback as shit.

    “You fucking cunt,” Jared would say.  “You’re nothing at all anymore, just a sad excuse for a man, just a slutty, wide-open fag for me to use all night long.  And I know you’ll love it, too.  MAGA, fag boy.”


    Jax’s Thugs Followers: I’m reposting this story cuz it nicely details two college nerds evolving into MAGA aggressive Jocks. So HOT! This blogger writes many similar at his Tumblr and has true writing talent - it’s worth a good Sunday Read! Great work @realhankmccoy !!l


    He promised he’d play truth or dare with me and as expected the scaredy-cat chose truth. So I asked him- what makes a hot jock? He was nervous at first but I told him I’d knock him out if he lied so he started to answer, anxiously at first- all worried he’d insult me- but then with increasing confidence (and a deepening voice) as his body started to pack on muscle and his mind started to warp into the cocky gym-assessed version of a bro he was describing. It was amazing watching him give in to the changes so quickly, freely describing every stereotypical muscle head attribute you could think of. The real finisher was when he described a jock cock- I could just see the intelligence in his eyes melt away as he groaned, lust took over and he dipped his hand into his tightening shorts to grab his inflating package. I loved this game and the best part was yet to come. After truth there’s always the dare. Wanna play?


    For the third time that week, Ryan awoke to a cool, sticky mess. He assumed it was just another wet dream - after all, he hadn’t gotten any tail in a while, and he figured this was just his body’s way of complaining. 

    What Ryan doesn’t remember is he conditioning file he turned on before climbing into bed the night before - the same conditioning file he’s been listening to for months. After so much training, Ryan drops into a trance almost immediately, his unconscious mind eagerly absorbing the soft, steady cadence of my voice. Now that I’ve installed enough obedience triggers in my new jocktoy, I’ve started using them to send jolts of pleasure rushing through his muscled frame, teaching him that only I can make him feel this way and warping what’s left of his free will around my commands.

    For now, I’ve kept Ryan in the dark about what I’m doing to him, and he wake each morning with no memory of the previous night’s ecstasies. But soon, we’ll reach an inflection point, and I’ll be able to show him what real pleasure feels like.