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He took the selfie and sent it to his bro. He loved his birthday gifts. A sleeveless shirt and a new iPod with a playlist already on it. Awesome songs. He sees pictures of this scrawny nerdy kid in his phone from his high school days and laughs like an idiot. Well, he is now. Even calls himself by a stereotypical jock name. Really though, Josh is happy. He has purpose. His parents back home will barely recognize him or know him even.
The former nerds aren’t smart enough now. The world needs more manual laborers, not smart people. They put on the hard hat, clothes morphed, tats formed, interests changed, eyes grew dull and it was all over. Stuck for life, a dumb jock who can only lift things as a job. The world needs em! Dumb jocks build and rule the world, you know.
Kris was my main competition for the big scholarship. That is, until I bought that bottle of “Chav Potion” from the British man in that strange little shop. I had no idea what a “chav” was, but he assured me I wouldn’t need to worry about Kris beating me out for the scholarship anymore.
(via poundthadawg)
“What do you mean, ‘Who are you?’ Bro, it’s me – it’s Chad, bro. What the fuck’s up with you, you hit your head or somethin’?”
“Chad – whoever you are – you’re not my roommate. My roommate is Paul, and he’s just gone to the library. I’ve never seen you before in my life.” Though, wow, what a fuckin’ body! He almost couldn’t stop staring at the perfectly carved abdominal muscles. Chad, if that’s who it was, flexed them proudly, as if in a performance. He shook his head, trying to clear the space of an oddly encroaching fogginess. “Seriously … you got the wrong room, bro.”
“Do I?” Chad released a dopey grin. “You sure?”
He couldn’t look away. “What …?”
“I live here, bro… we work out together, remember? We’re on the team together, remember?”
“Team….?”
“Yeah, bro. I’m a right winger and you’re a great defenseman on the ice. Remember?”
“… hockey…?” Something wrong suddenly bent to feel right. An unveiling…
“That’s right, bro! I knew you’d remember. Man, you musta gotten hit HARD with that puck last game…”
Ireland got a double rainbow after legalizing same-sex marriage.
Texas got a flood after banning it.
God has spoken.
Amen
He just loved to ride forgetting everything about his past. All he knew was how to skate and nothing else
Best Of lixpex:
This is called a “shirt.” In the Before Time, men used to cover their upper bodies with these. Then the Time of the Great Muscling freed us from such primitive customs.
(Don’t be alarmed – our docent Henry is wearing one of the sleeveless variety “shirts” just to show you how they worked. No, no, ha ha, it doesn’t hurt him!)
(Originally posted February 7, 2015)
Museums of the future
fuzzy, foggy head… the second i hit the joint, it was like i was a new man. then i hit it again, greedy for more of the same feeling. the smoke invaded every part of me.
“yeah bro. suck it all down. hold it in.”
i held it in. little stars exploded in my lungs. my brain swam in a gray lake of itself.
“that’s right bro. soon you won’t even remember saying no. so much easier to give in and let me take over. thinking sucks anyway, huh. you hate thinking for yourself. you trust me, don’t you, bro.”
it was like he was talking at me from the end of a very long, echoing tunnel. i felt myself nod. reds and purples were flickering on the edge of my vision.
“good, and when you let it out, you’ll know that for a fact, and you’ll do just as i say, right, bro?”
i felt myself nod, again, slowly, like caught in taffy.
“good, bro. now … let it out.”
whoosh. the smoke curled around me lazily, like an old friend smirking. it filled the car. “wow…” i said, dully. my voice sounded different, separate from my body.
“fuck yeah, bro. you belong to me now. we’re gonna help you out. become a new man.”
“totally, bro.” i had no idea what he was talkin about, but it sounded like he knew, so that was cool with me. a last part of my old self struggled to the surface. “uhhh…”
“what’s up, bro?”
“feelin…. a little uhh….”
“feelin what, bro?”
i blinked, and felt the dumbest grin i have ever felt rise to the top of my face and somehow… stick there, like someone tattooed it on me. “feelin… uhh…” i couldn’t remember what i was gonna say.
“feelin’ fuckin’ awesome, huh bro.”
fuck yeah. so what if i couldn’t remember my name.
“let’s go back to the house, OK, bro?”
“the house?” i asked stupidly.
he laughed. it sounded like music. he leaned over and punched me easily in the shoulder. “Sigma Nu, bro. remember? our frat?”
“oh yeah,” i said, and a dopey-sounding laugh fell out of me, sounding faraway. “fuck yeah bro.”
“that’s my bro.”
“uhh…mm…duhhh…mm"
It was this that got me addicted to turning boys into bimbos. This moment when they see their muscles and their big fat cock but are too dumb to understand what has happened.
Soon he’ll start stroking that meat and flexing those muscles and realize his role as a sex toy but nothing will ever be as pure and dumb and sexy as this moment.
Muscle Tf Lover 