#jocking

Cliqued into Place: A Patreon Preview

This story is rated mature due to cursing. You can find the full story on my Patreon in the $5 tier. Credit for this image goes to @morphedcocks

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“How…? Why does it taste so good?” Once more, his voice cracked. This time, he didn’t clear his throat.

“Cause protein shakes’re sweet, bro.”

“Best whey to make sweet gains, bro. Huhuhuh.”

CLANK

Huhuhuh. Huhuhuh. Huhuhuh…. That same dull laugh seemed to come from everywhere.

It wasn’t funny. It was so stupid. Literally a Dad joke. And yet…. Why was his mouth twitching? Why did his jaw suddenly feel sore? Why was his chest all tingly?

“Fuck, bro. That was bad. That joke was bad—”

The creature rose from the depths like a great blue whale, its ascent slow and steady at first until it broached the surface. “And you should—” Then, unable to be held back, it bellowed like an effusive belch. “—feel bad.”

Was that … his voice? Or was it just a trick, some reverb or software in the helmet that kicked in after sampling his voice to make it sound lower in his ears? Maurice didn’t have long to think about it.

The one who made the joke smiled along with Maurice. And that smile kept on, even as he delivered his terrible counterblow. “Just for that, you’re doin’ leg lifts before we undo the rest, bro.”

Leg lifts? Really?

“That, or you can stay there and listen. We got time.”

“Listen to what—”

CLANK

“—BRO?” Maurice’s eyes widened, even as he shuddered. That … that had come out of him. But, … he didn’t mean to say it. Bro talk was for brutes like Tim and Bryce, not for—

CLANK

Not for—

CLANK

Not … for….

CLANK

…

Thump

The vibration carried up Maurice’s legs while the two big brutes looked on, their cocky smirks almost as broad as their backs and cannonball delts. Meaty veined arms folded over massive, nigh-identical chests. Their eyes were still a mystery, obscured by the visors of their own headgear, doubtless a mirror to what Maurice had so firmly placed on his own head.

He could almost hear the subtle creaking of a hinge, the tautness of a pulley as the subtle release of pressure from gravity granted a few precious seconds of agonizing buildup before the next

CLANK

Creak

CLANK

A wave of dizziness struck now. His head rolled like a buoy on an ocean swell.

Huhuh. Swell….

His breathing felt … funny, labored. And his shirt felt … tight. And kinda cold?

As the creaking built up again, he looked in an unreal sense of bemused detachment at the two throbbing masses of flesh that stood straight as a board. They looked so ridiculous, so pumped and loaded down with the sheer weight of corded mass rippling while his core burned.

CLANK

Thump

They were out of sight.

Creak

Strain. They were there again as he huffed and puffed, his mouth seemingly refusing to close, almost as if he had forgotten how….

CLANK

Thump

How to….

Creak

Pop! Pop! RIIIiiiiip!

Cold on his thighs. The pants on the funny legs were breaking, drooping to reveal the sculped flesh quivering beneath.

“Atta bro.” The twin voices rang in unison, and Maurice felt his head spin as his eyes rolled in a mix of dazed confusion and sheer, blazing ecstasy.

CLANK

Thump

Pop-Pop!

Ch-Ch-ChhhhrrrrriiIIIIIiip!

Smack-Smack!

Creak.

“UUUuuuuhhhhHhhhhh….” The groan warbled and thrummed with the steady, heavy beating of his heart hammering in his head. This time, the tatters were gone, replaced with a tight white sheath of nylon and spandex that hid nothing of the mesmerizing display of swollen pumped muscle rippling and coming to rest like the crash of waves on a shore. The tattered remnants of his now burst shoes sloughed off, leaving bulging feet and toes behind that strained against the confines of the socks that were barely holding on in the fight to keep the monsters contained. He could almost picture the state of their soles, creaking and straining, made dark by the repetitive impact against the old soles of the shoes that had once contained them.

“Fuck, bro,” Maruice heard one of them exclaim.

“Bro,” the second brute echoed.

Not bro. Something in Maurice shied away from that, cringing and whimpering. He didn’t want bro, but—

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck….” He could live with that. They’d said it so many times already, and he hadn’t been bothered by it. And … the situation did call for it, right? His head was feeling so messed up. And … he was all bound and shit, right? So he could totally curse himself out if he wanted to.

Nobody would judge him for it, right bro-ooohhhh no! He wouldn’t … fall into the brutes’ bro talk that easily. But … damn, that did feel good.

The burning in his core and thighs dulled and pulled away, retreating to concentrate in—

Creak

“Oh, Fuck,” the word drew out in another mighty expulsion. And in response, something began to swell.

CLANK

Thump

Creak

“Fuck.”

CLANK

Thump

Creak

George: You never look...