shaved down, tatted up alterna-bro might look might look good now, glowing in the faint light of the tanning bed… but he’d look even better with his individuality deleted, his art blotted out with a few dozen layers of liquid latex, and his skin cut off from the light of the sun forever. don’t worry, bro. we can keep your T up and your hormones regular with protein and supplementation. vitamin D. administered orally and anally, haha
Ricky and I had been workout buddies for about a year now. We’d had a few classes in college together—and after graduation, we both stuck around and lived on campus for another year. So it made sense that we started hanging out, mostly at the gym.
He’d been a lot scrawnier a year ago. But I’d worked him out hard. Put him through his paces. Pushed him into new regimens, better equipment, longer workouts—even got him to try a few supplements. And it was paying off.
“Flex,” I said. And Ricky, laying on the bed—looking up at me with those sad, confused, puppy dog eyes—couldn’t help himself. He put his hands behind his head and flexed his biceps for me.
I could smell his musky armpits from here. We’d just gotten back from the gym, you see, where Ricky here had just told me he was moving upstate. Wanted to try new things, he said. Get a new job, new girl, and new… friends.
“Flex,” I said again.
Ricky twisted into a new pose, flexing every muscle he could. Eyes searching for my approval—but not sure why he craved it.
Those “supplements” had beefed him up, sure. But they’d also dumbed him down. Made him more… suggestible. Compliant.
Obedient.
I stood up and started walking toward the bed. “Good boy, Ricky.”
I saw his dick twitch through his shorts. He flexed even harder for me—sweating, breathing hard through his mouth, not realizing his tongue was slowly falling out.
“Put your arms down,” I said with a smirk. And he obeyed.
I was in front of the bed now. His eyes level with the bulge in my workout shorts. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it. I nudged it casually with my hand and watched him subconsciously lean a little closer to it. This was too easy.
I slowly reached down and put my hand under his thin wife beater—feeling his smooth abs with my fingertips. He squirmed—looking up at me with innocent, half-lidded eyes.
“You wanna take your shirt off?” I asked excitedly.
I scratched his belly—his eyes widened and he let out a moan before he could stop himself. I could see his hard dick jutting out from his shorts.
Taking that as my answer, I pulled his shirt over his head. He instinctively flexed his chest for me. I bent down and scratched it. “That’s a good boy.”
He was too humiliated to make eye contact with me. But I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he panted.
I leaned close to his ear. “Flex, puppy.”
Ricky whined softly as he put his arms between his legs like a little puppy and flexed as hard as he could—still panting as he looked up at me. Wanting another belly rub so badly.
I placed my hand on his stomach and kept it still—teasing him with my fingers, making him moan and beg for it. He let out a low whine and humped at the air, staring up at me with pleading eyes.
I smirked down at him—then scratched again and watched his frown turn into a big, dumb, happy smile. He panted even harder, then put a closed fist on his dick and started thrusting, trying to cum.
“NO. No, no, no.”
Ricky immediately took his fist off his dick, whimpering up at me for forgiveness. With one hand, I pushed him onto his back. “That’s not how we behave.”
He looked at me, panting and with his legs up in the air—part of him wishing this nightmare would end and more and more of him giving into the idea of being my dumb, obedient, horny jockpup.
“Take your shoe off.”
He did, with trembling hands.
“Put your face in there, puppy.”
Ricky looked at me. Looked at the shoe. Looked back at me, pleading.
“Stick your snout in the shoe, dummy. You love shoes.”
He tried to fight it, but I could see him salivating as the shoe got closer to his face. Nervously, he rubbed his nose lightly against his gym shoe, breathing in the scent… then he dove in and took a huge whiff. Then another. And another.
“That’s a good puppy. You can start a whole new life here with me. Bring me the paper in the morning, do tricks for the guys at the gym, chew on your gym shoes while I’m at work—”
Ricky whimpered, his face not leaving the shoe.
“Oh, it won’t be so bad.” I leaned down and grabbed his cock through his pants. “You might even enjoy it.”
He let out another moan and pushed his face even deeper into the shoe—humping his dick against my hand like the horny puppy he was.
I put a hand on his stomach and started scratching again—pushing the shoe onto his face. Inside, I could hear his tongue lapping around. He whimpered again. Then let out a playful bark.
I scratched harder.
“There’s a good boy.”
haha. lil bro is so cute when he gives me those meek lil puppy dog eyes, but still obeys my commands. keep trying to fight it, little buddy. keep trying to fight your new reality as a dumb, flexing, sneaker sniffing animal
The fluid pumped into him at a slow, steady rate. It’s source, the genitalia of an altered man, altering a man with the same primal need that had changed him just hours before.
that’s what it feels like to change, bros. a convulsion of pleasure so intense it short-circuits the higher brain functions, leaving you drooling, stupid and pliable. animals are trained. machines are programmed. you’re already both, bro. nature programmed you to fuck and reproduce. your sperm is essentially a naturally occurring nanobot, and its production center, your balls, already exerts such an intense influence over your actions, you’d be crazy to try and assert that you’re in full control of your own body. society tries to inhibit the bare truth of our essential function, and sells us a narrative about individual personhood, and to what end? to make us work. to sell us shit. to keep us chasing the cash flow, and reproduce the same template of the family model. the machinery of society controls the machinery of our bodies to exert it own ends, but it can’t eliminate what we are. we’re animals, bro. fucking beasts. if being programmed is inevitable, shouldn’t we have a say in how it’s done? shouldn’t we become whatever it is we want to become? haven’t you already fought enough, bro? won’t it feel better to just give in and free yourself to obey?
BroUnderConstruction 