Brojockhorndog

"Aww, what's wrong, glasses? You thought putting up your 'Gay-Straight Alliance' propaganda was gonna turn Westfield into some safe-space circlejerk? Nah, bitch. That shit ain't accepted around here. Even worse when you try to defile our sports with your stupid political pamphlets and stickers,"

"You cross the line when you did that in our space, faggot. Now it's time for us to cross the line to make it equal and remind you exactly where fags belong 'round here,"

"Hold his head steady, boys." The curly blonde one grins, already palming his bulge. "Time to choke that GSA propaganda right out of his throat,"

"No face, no case"

Lol, what case? The moment his meaty monster penetrated that tight hole, she won't even argue how stupid she sounds like to make a fuss about denying such pleasure and resisting her God-given function as men's seed captor. So, there's no need to hide his handsome face, there's no shame anyway in claiming ownership for what's yours to play with

I lounged back on my bed at first, arms spread wide in my Ole Miss hoodie, smirking down at the pathetic liberal faggot kneeling on my floor. This shit is too easy — and way too fun.

“Look at you, already shaking on your knees in a real man’s room,” I drawled, voice low and cocky. “What a fucking joke. Bet you’ve been dreaming about this since you first saw me around campus. A big, dumb, muscular Rebel like me owning your weak liberal ass.”

I stand up, peeled the hoodie off slowly, flexing my thick arms and chest just to watch his eyes bulge. Then I turned, giving him the full view of my tattooed back and tight ass while pretending to rummage in the closet. I can feel his stare burning into me. Hilarious. I casually turned my head and flashed my signature smirk. The faggot's flinched, he's obviously staring at my ass

I spin back around, shirtless and pumped, and casually lifted my leg, planting my big white-socked foot right in his face. The sole pressed against his nose and lips. I flexed my thick thigh and grinned.

“Go on, bitch. Sniff it. Worship a straight alpha’s sweaty foot like the desperate faggot you are. This is what you live for, isn’t it? Getting verbally destroyed by superior conservative muscle while your kind loses every election and every argument.”

I pressed my sock harder against his mouth, sneering with mock disgust even as I laughed internally.

“Yeah, that’s it. Lick it, loser. Bury your face in my foot while I tell you the truth: you’re nothing but a sniveling, cum-hungry liberal queer who exists to serve real men like me. My cock’s not even getting hard. Stays completely soft because you’re that fucking repulsive. But you? You’re about to ruin your pants just from this.”

I watched him break — whimpering, grinding his face into my sock, body trembling. A dark, wet spot started spreading in his crotch as thick ropes of cum pumped uselessly into his underwear. Hands-free. Pathetic.

I keep my foot planted on his face, laughing coldly as he squirt through the last spurts.

“Fucking disgusting. Look at you creaming yourself like a broken toy while my dick doesn’t even twitch. Get the fuck out of my room, you worthless little—”

And then the mask slipped, just for a second.

In the back of this meat mind, the real me — scrawny, pale, hateful, "dork" as this dumb jock put it, who’d spent years seething in silence — grinned with pure satisfaction. This dumb, muscular meat puppet had been so easy to possess while he slept after practice.

Big, empty-headed conservative himbo body, perfect vessel. Nobody suspected a thing.

I’d always hated Alby and his kind of particular coastal liberal nerd. The smug, little activist prick who thought he's better than everyone and who acted like he represented everyone that looked like him. Well, fuck him and his kind, that's why I took this sleeping hunk’s body and turned it into my personal humiliation puppet to taught these city pricks not to mess around and stop espousing their belief like it's some sort of Biblical wisdom everybody have to follow. Plus, he's my biggest competitor for Rhodes, so of course I need to ensure he's not gonna threaten my standings. A degrading video like this would certainly steer away any scholarship committee and I'll make sure to dangle it everytime he's trying to act out of line. Every degrading word, every flex, every press of this superior foot against his face — it's all me. The bitter, overlooked incel finally getting revenge by making the liberal faggot cum in total shame at the feet of the alpha he could never be.

I lowered the foot slowly, still wearing the jock’s cocky smirk on the outside, while inside I savored the sight of my rival reduced to a dripping, humiliated mess on the floor.

“Clean yourself up and crawl out, faggot,” I said with the alpha’s deep voice. “And remember who owns you now.”

Troy Boehler entered the uni as a team captain that led his school to become state champions and graduated on the top 5% of his graduating class. The school star quarterback injury and inconsistent backup performance led him, the rookie, to be on the main team roster and he delivered when it mattered. He did that while balancing his studies and clearly, by the near end of the second semester, he's adapted to uni life and enjoyed it way better than he expected

But then the whispers started. One of the more senior member of the team, Dylan, seemingly take an interest on Troy. The rookie never suspected anything and just trying to be polite to an older team member. But as his arm slung around Troy's shoulder, casual conversation about football, campus life and chicks turned into politics instead. Troy couldn't vote in the latest presidential election as he was not of age by that time and his family never discussed politics that openly anyway, but as Dylan muttered about how "bitches got bred and then terminated it with pills because they're dumb and heartless" or "why tf my girlfriend should compete with a fucking tranny that could literally hurt her with the power of HIS smash?" during their conversation, which Lex, another rookie, chimed in, something shifted in Troy's mind.

The initial awkward laughter turned into deep, thoughtful nod when Dylan told about "DEI and affirmative actions really ruined our campus, you noticed it? Don't lie and act like you understand what that CS professor talked about, I took her class two years ago, her accent is thick af right?" or how Lex added the classic "they pulled the rug from under our feet despite everything our parents and grandparents and generations above them has given to strengthen this country, you feel me?".

“Look at that, bro. That’s a fucking winner right there.” Troy stared at his own reflection — the sharp jaw, the carved chest, the new fire in his eyes — and smirked. He liked what he saw. A lot.

Not to mention the constant video Dylan and Lex sent him that foment Troy's shift to the right. At one particular night, as he watched TV with his girl, Troy decided to do something so unimaginable before as he just nonchalantly grabbed her girlfriend's boobs.

Mira yelped and then moaned as Troy kneaded her boobs before ravenously kissed her neck. Mira reciprocates the intensity, but she asked in the middle of the heated exchanges what's gotten into Troy, and the jock just brushed it off and said that this is how a real man should've treated their ladies. Mira's too lost in the heat as Troy other hands already slipped under her shorts, the conversation just stopped there and swapped by heated horny moans between the two. That night solidified Troy's world view as his girlfriend expectedly succumbed to his desire, and in the morning that followed, he took out the gift given by Dylan for his birthday just the week before. Troy stood in front of the mirror in nothing but gym shorts, the bright red “MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN” hat now sitting perfectly on his messy blonde hair. Lex appeared to ask him out for a jog as he stumbled upon Troy's self-admiration sesh.

"Run with that cap, announce your self to the world. I'll grab mine if you do it,"

Nowadays, under the blood-red light of the gaming setup of his dorm room, he and his new roommate, another fellow football rookie-now-no-more-rookie named Cole, the two of them hunched over the monitor, Troy's finger on his chin in thought, both of them grinning like wolves at whatever “truth” is on screen as they're watching the livestream of their favorite streamer owning libs in public debates. No more Mr. Nice Guy. No more pretending.

When his nerdy roommate and chem tutor glanced over nervously, Troy just laughed. “What's up with the look, nerd? Never seen a real man before? Don't fap your morning wood to me, you disgusting fag," he said at that time with such fervor laced with disgust. Before summer's over, that roommate is gone.