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The apartment door clicked shut as Myles headed out to the bodega for snacks, leaving his boyfriend, Dennis, alone with his older brother, Kyle. Dennis had spent the last few months pushing Myles to finally cut all ties with Kyle — the loud, unapologetic, hardline MAGA older brother whose “traditional values” clashed with everything their progressive college circle stood for. Kyle is everything Dennis despised on paper: An entitled, oblivious douchebag who proudly put on Trump's MAGA flags or even apparel, big believer of America First rhetoric, and zero tolerance for “woke bullshit.” Yet, much to his surprise, Kyle looked less like the loser he thought he would be being 29 and working from home and for whatever reason, that guy now sauntered over to where Dennis stayed, which is Myles bedroom, as if looking for trouble. Dennis heart instantly raced as the massive blond jock blocked the door like a tattooed wall of muscle.

Kyle stands there shirtless, curly blond hair framing his cocky smirk, gold cross gleaming between thick pecs covered in light sweat. His powerful arms — one sleeved in stars and an eagle, the other with a massive ram skull — flexed as he crossed them. Gray athletic shorts clung to his tree-trunk thighs and the heavy, obvious bulge of his thick MAGA cock.

“You’ve been poisoning my little brother’s mind with that liberal fag shit, telling him to disown his own blood because I won’t bend the knee to your rainbow cult. Time you learn what a real American man’s cock tastes like.”

Dennis found himself stammered and tried to push past and start calling for help, but Kyle grabbed him by the throat and shoved him back into the bed area, kicking the door mostly shut. Dennis struggled, but the bigger man easily pinned him against the wall.

“Get the fuck off me, you homophobic prick!”

Kyle laughed, deep and mocking. “Homophobic? Nah, boy. I just know my cock only enters real pussy. Tight, wet, feminine cunt that knows its place. Not some liberal fag’s sloppy boyhole. That’s for beta cucks like you to dream about while you choke on superior straight dick.”

He forced Dennis to his knees. With one hand gripping Dennis thin brunette hair, Kyle yanked down his shorts and pulled out his massive uncut 9-inch cock — thick, veiny, and already leaking. It slapped heavily across Dennis’s face, musky and dominant.

“Open that liberal mouth. Show me how much you secretly crave MAGA cock while you pretend to hate everything I stand for.”

Dennis kept his lips pressed into a tight, stubborn line, glaring up at Kyle in defiant resistance. “Fuck you. I’m not sucking your MAGA dick.”

Kyle’s eyes darkened with amusement. He grabbed Dennis by the jaw, squeezing hard enough to make his teeth ache. When that didn’t work, he makes Dennis to stand on his feet and drive a heavy fist into Dennis’s stomach. Dennis doubled over with a wheeze. Another punch landed, then a third, each one breaking his posture further.

“Still clenching that liberal mouth shut?” Kyle laughed. He forced two thick fingers between Dennis’s lips, prying them apart brutally while gripping a fistful of hair. Dennis tried to bite, but Kyle slammed another punch into his ribs, making him gasp.

The moment his mouth opened, Kyle shoved his fingers deeper, hooking them behind Dennis’s teeth and yanking his jaw wide. He hawked a thick glob of spit straight into the forced-open mouth.

“There it is,” Kyle growled victoriously, slapping his heavy cock against Dennis’s tongue. “All that progressive attitude and a few punches is all it takes to turn you into a willing MAGA cock sleeve.”

He immediately rammed his thick shaft down the gasping throat. The taste — salty, masculine, overpowering — flooded his senses. Kyle groaned in satisfaction and started thrusting, face-fucking him with long, powerful strokes that made his balls slap Dennis’s chin. Overwhelmed and sloppy, Dennis accidentally grazed the sensitive underside with his teeth.

“Fucking watch it, fag,” Kyle snarled.

SLAP

A heavy, open-handed smack landed across Dennis’s flushed cheek, making his eyes water. Before he can recover, Kyle spits directly onto his face, thick saliva dripping down his nose and lips.

“Again,” Kyle warned, shoving his cock back in.

Dennis tried to relax his jaw, but another nervous graze earned him two more sharp slaps — left cheek, then right — followed by another heavy glob of spit right into his open mouth.

“Teeth again and I’ll knock them down your liberal throat,” Kyle growled, gripping his hair tighter. “This isn’t your safe-space college boyfriend dick. This is real MAGA cock.”

Terrified and humiliated, Dennis finally loosened his jaw completely, lips stretching soft and obedient around the massive shaft. No more teeth. Only eager, fearful suction as Kyle resumed brutally fucking his throat, spitting on him between thrusts like the conquered little bitch he's now

“Fuck yeah. That’s it. All that college talk about tolerance and ‘love is love,’ and here you are gagging on the same hardline MAGA dick you tell Myles to reject. The irony’s fucking delicious.”

Dennis’s eyes watered, but his resistance crumbled fast. His own cock strained painfully in his jeans as Kyle used his throat like a fleshlight, the wet gagging sounds filling the room. Kyle pulled out briefly, strings of spit dripping, and lifted one thick arm, shoving Dennis’s face straight into his sweaty, musky pit.

“Smell a real man, fag. This is what winning smells like. Trump country sweat. Breathe it in while you worship the cock that only breeds real pussy.”

Dennis moaned like a whore, tongue lapping eagerly at the salty skin, inhaling the potent masculine scent. He switched pits when ordered, licking and sucking desperately while Kyle stroked his massive cock over his face.

“Pathetic,” Kyle chuckled. “You spend all day preaching about how toxic I am, how I need to ‘evolve,’ and the second you get a taste of conservative dick you’re addicted. Bet you jerk off thinking about this while Myles eats your ass like a good little liberal boyfriend.”

He shoved his cock back down Dennis’s throat, fucking his face harder, hips snapping forward. Dennis’s hands gripped Kyle’s muscular thighs, not pushing away anymore — pulling him deeper. Precum and spit coated his chin. His own cock leaked steadily, completely betrayed by the raw dominance of his boyfriend’s “homophobic” older brother.

“This is the ultimate liberal irony, isn’t it? You hate MAGA, hate Trump, hate everything I believe… but your fag throat still desperately milks my straight cock as if you're trying to compete against the babes pussies. Keep sucking, boy. Show me how much you need real American manhood while you try to cancel it.”

Dennis is completely lost — eyes glassy, moaning around the thick shaft, throat bulging with every deep thrust. Kyle face-fucked him relentlessly, one hand tangled in his hair, the other occasionally slapping his cheek lightly.

---

Myles had forgotten his wallet. He quietly re-entered the apartment and froze when he heard the obscene wet sounds and deep grunts coming from the bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. Heart hammering, he crept closer and peered through the crack.

The sight hit him like lightning.

His boyfriend Dennis was on his knees, face flushed and sloppy with spit, eagerly deepthroating Kyle’s massive cock. Kyle’s powerful, tattooed body glistened with sweat as he thrust into Dennis’s mouth, gray shorts around his thighs, muscles flexing with every move. Dennis’s hand was inside his own pants, frantically jerking himself off while worshipping the older brother’s dick.

Myles couldn’t look away. Shame, jealousy, and unwanted arousal flooded him as he watched his liberal, progressive boyfriend get completely owned by the hardline MAGA brother he’d been trying to make him cut off. For ten full minutes Myles stood there, hand slipping into his shorts, stroking himself in silence while Kyle degraded Dennis with every thrust and taunt.

“Fuck, you liberal boys break so easy,” Kyle growled, never slowing down. “All that talk about cutting me off, and you’re slobbering on my cock like it’s your new religion. Maybe I should make Myles watch what a real man does to his fag boyfriend.”

Then, back to the current moment, Kyle’s sharp blue eyes flicked straight toward the door crack. A thunderous, cocky chuckle rumbled from his chest as he kept face-fucking Dennis without missing a beat.

“You’ve been enjoying watching me, don’t you, younger bro?”

Myles instantly freeze, hand still wrapped around his throbbing cock, face burning with humiliation. Kyle grinned wide, arrogant and victorious, his curly blond hair tousled, muscles pumped, MAGA energy radiating off him as he held Dennis’s head down on his shaft.

No, lil bro, those hours you spent in the gym piling on those newby gains and away from me in your fancy liberal arts college for a year ain't enough to re-wire your brain. Time to relapse on my foot funk that you always craved, bro. No need to be greedy and exhaust yourself in one sesh, we have all summer long to make you sink even deeper than before.

Online

I rushed back to the computer as I heard the notification. I had waited for a few days for the next stream, prepped with lotion and tissues.

"Yeah, you like it when I flex like this huh?"

============

My parents built their empire through hard work, so they tried to push me to work hard myself. Problem is, why should I? We're rich? I can be jobless for 100 years and still fly private jets each day. I resisted in every turn, but they got me by the end.

They passed away, and the requirement for me to get my inheritance is to work and do it successfully. So I chose the most fun job I can think of, streaming.

I bought the most expensive rig money can buy and just started going at it. Problem is, I wasn't getting as much money as is required by the will, and the deadline was getting closer. So, I made a shortcut.

I knew that to succeed easily, I had to be either a hot girl or man. I wasn't about to get myself new tits, so I chose to be as masculine as science permits. With a promise of hefty investment, a startup designed a custom enhancement to do just that. One which arrived the same day it was packed in europe. One which has apparently been consumed by the maid/adopted son.

Luis was an orphan that my parents took in during one of their trips to the third world. He's not exactly treated as an equal, but what did he expect? He's not blood. He's lucky my parents set him some money aside for school and that he's still living in MY mansion. Now he dares to steal my stuff.

I can hear the grunts coming from the state-of-the-art gym I built for what should've been my new body.

"Luis! Who gave you permission to take my shit?! You're fucking out I tell you! Out! Get the fuck o-"

I turn the corner only to be face-to-tit with the new Luis. Right away, I can smell the wafting man musk of the alpha body, a trait the company promised would be extra potent. I have met kings, billionares, and even secret trillionares, but this is truly the first time I felt inferior. A booming voice orders:

"Lick."

================

It wasn't hard to transfer my rights according to the will to him. He still had to work as was stipulated, but his streams got viral within seconds, so he got my his money pretty easily. He still streams for the fun of it, doing it from my old room while I pitifully watch from my new room, the tool shack right next to the pool.

"Another donation world record broke! You all know I don't need the money, yet you still send it to me. I don't care though, keep sending me more next time. Pitiful fucks."

Offline

I nearly emptied my box of tissues just in a one hour stream. Pretty much everyone watching does that it has become an accepted term, "Luis Effect."

I had no time to recover as a text came, ordering me to go with him. Probably to parade me around in his company as the founders' son turned faggot. No matter though, orders are orders.

I entered my old favorite car only to be greeted by him, shirtless and sweaty. A typical sight of him after his streams. His smell easily enveloped the confines of the car.

"I bought the startup that made me the worlds' alpha. Now they say they have prepped a drug at least 100 times more potent. Ready to watch me ascend fag?"

The cabin lights had been dimmed for hours, turning the overnight flight into a hazy, half-asleep cocoon. I sat wedged in the window seat next to him — this cocky, muscular college jock in a tight black tank top and backward cap, arms thick and hairy, pits glistening with sweat. My husband was three rows back, happily snoring in his middle seat, still glowing from our wedding two days ago. I’d promised myself this honeymoon would be different. Faithful. Normal.

But then the jock stretched, arms locked behind his head, and the wave hit me: raw, rank, masculine musk rolling off his sweaty body like heat from an engine. My stomach twisted in horror. *God, he reeks. How does someone smell that strong after hours in recycled air?* I tried to focus on my phone, cheeks burning, but my eyes kept drifting — over the dark hair matted across his broad chest, the way his tank clung to his damp skin, the lazy, arrogant smirk when he caught me looking.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just flexed a little, letting more of that thick, sour scent fill the space between us. My cock betrayed me before my brain did, twitching hard in my pants. I hated it. I was married. Newly married. This was disgusting.

Yet twenty minutes later, when the plane hit a quiet stretch and most lights were out, he shifted closer. His big thigh pressed against mine. “You’ve been staring, fag,” he whispered, voice low and cocky. “Bet that ring on your finger feels real tight right now.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. His scent was overwhelming now — salty, musky, unwashed jock funk that made my head spin. He casually lifted one arm, resting it behind his head again, and the pit stench washed over me stronger. My resistance crumbled like wet paper.

Slowly, shamefully, I leaned in. My heart hammered as I buried my face against his sweaty side, inhaling like a desperate animal. He chuckled quietly. “That’s it. Sniff your new owner.”

My hands trembled as I pulled his waistband down just enough. His thick, heavy cock sprang out, already half-hard and smelling even stronger — pure rank alpha dick. I hesitated one last second, thinking of my husband sleeping just rows away… then I opened my mouth and took him in.

He was thick, salty, and still sweaty from the flight. I gagged quietly as he grew fully hard down my throat, but I didn’t stop. I sucked him like a pathetic, skinny married slut, head bobbing low in his lap while he kept his arms casually behind his head, pretending to sleep. Every few seconds he’d push my head down further, forcing my nose into his sweaty pubes.

“You’re such a disgusting little faggot,” he breathed, barely audible. “Honeymooning with your husband and choking on college cock ten thousand feet up. Keep going, dumpster.”

Tears pricked my eyes from the shame and the stretch, but my own dick was leaking in my pants. The horror had melted into pure, humiliating need. I wanted to be his seat-side cumrag. His rank, sweaty alpha toilet.

When he finally came, it was thick and bitter, flooding my mouth in heavy ropes. I swallowed every drop like the broken married bitch I’d become, licking him clean while his musk soaked into my skin and clothes.

He patted my flushed cheek condescendingly, zipped up, and went back to relaxing like nothing happened.

I sat there the rest of the flight, lips swollen, throat coated in his load, the taste and smell of him lingering as I stared at my wedding ring. My husband would never know… but I already belonged to this sweaty, domineering jock now.

And the worst part? I couldn’t wait for him to use me again. As me and my husband strolled to the town for some night out two days after we arrived from the flight, I realized the jock is in the table behind us already looking at me with his predatorial smirk, a girl seated in front of him clearly as unaware as my husband about this dynamic and how I've been monitored like a prey......

Now two weeks later, as you masses his feet after he came in your mouth, he laughs.

Then it was on with doing the cleaning, tidying up, sorting out the laundry and changing the bedding. From previous bitter experience you knew there was at least one camera somewhere in the room, meaning He was keeping track of you and making sure you weren’t slacking off or being distracted with things like sniffing His worn clothes.

Once the work was done you had to leave 50 in cash on the desk to thank Him for letting you be of service, then get in the cupboard and slide the door shut. Then you had to wait for Him to return and check your work. Sometimes he was back quickly, other times you were left sitting in the cupboard for two hours. He never said much when He did return and you never saw him, just His voice from outside the cupboard.

A few months ago He said you’d done a decent job and you could take one of His used boxers that he left out for you, as long as you left another 50. Those used boxers were now a treasured possession and you often sniffed them or put them over your head to try to inhale his scent, although that was now waning.