I'd rather be in outer space 🛸
Jules of Nature
Three Goblin Art

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Kiana Khansmith


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cherry valley forever
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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Xuebing Du
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@1ju1starandomname1

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After I had him take off all his clothes, he was begging me to fuck him. I said to him, “You young boys are so eager to please.” He smiled and said, “Most of us are faggots. I certainly am. I’ll do anything you want me to. Absolutely anything.”
I had him go to the bathtub and I pissed all over his face. He loved every second of it. He couldn’t stop smiling. Oh that I had him dry off and put him over my knee for a spanking. He almost came. What a pathetic thing. Now here I am giving him what he needs and what I want. I’m going to drop a load in this little faggots tight boi hole and then I’m going to tell him not to call me until he gets his pathetic boi cock locked up and is ready to give me the key. My guess is he’ll be handing me the keys in about five days. Haha. Fags are funny.
I'd like to play...
Cocky dude displays soles, flexes and gives us the finger. We know our place

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WolfsLand, 🐺
“Shame it’s over. We had a lot of fun you and me. I wish the best for your future.”
“Thank you. And thanks for being cool with it. Goodbye.”
I stand at his door and hesitate for a moment before grabbing on the handle. I swear he can hear my thoughts.
“Kiss my feet one more time, as goodbye.”
I freeze with my hand gripping the doorknob. I turn around and stand in front of his feet. He’s waiting impatiently. I kneel and kiss one of his big meaty soles, “Goodbye.”
“Kiss both.” He pushes his other foot against my face. The rush of his foot against my face ignites something in me, my tongue falls from my mouth instantly and begins covering large areas of his foot, again and again. Before I know it his toes are in my mouth and his foots against my cock. All my inhibitions gone, he’s got me stuck in his trap. I’m lost in his perfect soles and feel something cold against my cock, along with his hands fiddling with my balls. I know what’s happening but I stay quiet, slowly lapping up his sole. I continue to kiss and worship while accepting my fate.
Click.
“Atta boy.”
BACS
With @mrrharper
“Hopkins,” the coach said curtly to the buff guard at the gate. The security officer barely seemed to register him as a person, rather just an item on his list to check off. Once he was allowed to proceed, Coach Hopkins entered into the corridor and proceeded to the farthest room. Quite frankly, the coach embodied everything a man should be at his age: big, strong, rich. Running one of the country’s top collegiate teams meant he was often provided with ample checks. But an investor had been hinting that the meeting he was about to attend would only raise his profits higher. And now standing before the other guests, Coach Hopkins believed this investor was not mistaken.
Feeling mighty pleased with himself, and honestly a bit haughty, the coach scanned the room, taking in all the other broad, strapping men. There was Coach Larson from one of the major east coast schools, Coach McNamara from the private military academy that swept the competition every year. Coach Hopkins recognized another prominent coach from California, but could not place his name. There were a few more men in the room, engaging in casual conversation about work, but the atmosphere in the space was mildly tense. Instead of acquainting himself with others, Coach Hopkins took a seat and remained there until the presentation began.
“Gentleman,” the host began. The suit that covered his large frame appeared painted on, tight against his skin. A former collegiate athlete who had stayed in shape; Coach Hopkins could not help but take a moment to respect the work. “Invited amongst you today are some of your finest colleagues in the field. Hopefully you all know why you are here, so we will skip past the pleasantries and get right to the presentation.”
Behind the host, the wall suddenly began to glow. A soft light filtered upon it before focusing on colors and images. Eventually, the display became clear, showcasing live camera footage inside an empty male restroom.
“We believed the best way to explain our product was to show how it works,” the host started slyly. Coach Hopkins watched as the door to the restroom opened, revealing a young college-aged male. By his medium build and uniform, the coach assumed he could have been in lacrosse, baseball, or even a non-tackling football player. His third guess was correct.
“Before us is Dawson Welch, a decent transfer from an undisclosed Division III school. Originally holding potential, he has not yet conformed to our nationwide protocol, otherwise known as BACS for short.”
The four words were then flashed in red at the bottom of the screen. A silly acronym, but one that worked nonetheless.
Beefy Aggressive Cocky Straight
“Our case study is about to demonstrate the results of our program,” the host smiled.
There were a few murmurs from the other men. The California coach even shifted a bit, slightly uncomfortable at what he was about to witness. Coach Hopkins remained silent, observing the subject. By his size and careful actions, he could already identify that three of the required four set standards were missing.
“Tyler?” Dawson called out into the room. “Baby, it’s alright, I’m here now.” The coach nodded with confirmation for the fourth characteristic. Grabbing his phone, the host then sent a simple text message. Thanks to the live camera, the men could all watch as the subject’s own device buzzed. Timidly opening it, Dawson checked his phone.
“Ok Tyler, I am going to open the link you sent me,” Dawson called out, unaware the link was not actually sent from his romantic interest. As if already suspecting the lurking danger behind the text, the subject slowly tapped the link and let it proceed forward. The room lit up in a flash, even blinding the live camera temporarily. The audio did not shut off, but the stream went quiet. Moments later, the men were reoriented back into the restroom.
Murmurs flew around the space once more. A few of their faces displayed shock at the screen presented before them. Coach Hopkins held stoic, but his eyes bore straight on. The scene before him was almost entirely the same. Nothing had changed, except for the subject.
“Gone are the days of your players attending frivolous seminars and engaging in anti-anything protests. Thanks to our technology, we can now guarantee your boys will be real, undeniably American men.”
Where once stood the rather average athletic young male was now a bulky creature. He was taller, brawnier, and brutish. His uniform had been replaced with a tight, all-black outfit to better display his offerings. The sleeveless tank outlined massive pecs, broad shoulders, a thick core, and made his cannon-like arms bulge out of his sides like an oversized action figure. The running shorts appeared more like briefs, searing into the monstrous thighs that led down to steel calves and feet so large they could not be accommodated at most shoe outlets. Speaking of briefs, Coach Hopkins noted the subject was no longer wearing any; a thick python and a low-hanging set were peeking out of one of the leg holes.
By the gigantic size, the host could easily confirm his product met the first criteria. And by the backwards cap, arrogant grin, and constant man-handling, the men in the room were all able to confirm the second and third on their own. They had been around these types long enough to know the signs.
“What was I doing anyway, bro?” Dawson asked himself in a voice deeper and duller than his previous offerings. After scratching at his thick pubes and giving it a sniff, an idea suddenly sprung into the subject’s head. Coach Hopkins could sense the process of thinking was a more difficult procedure now then it had been before. “Right, I was gonna see if that chick from last night still wanted to get laid tonight. What was her name, Jenna? Brianna? Maybe she’d be a good lil girl and bag me a threesome? God, that’s so hot…”
The stream cut off shortly after, but not before the subject’s continual groping started to awaken his massive dong. The last image was frozen onto the screen, with Dawson preparing the classic flexed picture his predatory nature utilized to ensnare victims.
“So what do you say, gentlemen,” the host sneered. “Would anyone like to try our trial package?”

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You know you can't stop staring at this jockey twunk's big soles. You are under a deep hypnosis.
To The Manner Born (Again)

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