Planet Jock: Bro! (Patreon)

“Good morning, Donny,” Brad said, his sing-song tone dripping with faux friendliness as he stepped up to the counter.  The brawny brunette puffed his chiseled pecs, the muscled mounds bisected by a cobalt tie as they pushed against the tight button down struggling to contain them.  The same went for the shirt's tortured sleeves, the material stretched taut while Brad folded his arms and smirked at the small blonde behind the register.  “I mean, Donald,” he corrected himself, his tone going flat.

The wiry blonde sighed and anxiously adjusted the thick-rimmed glasses resting on his sharp features, wanting nothing more than for the exchange to be over as quickly as possible.  “You guys getting the usual,” he asked, glancing at the nearly identical duo standing behind Brad.

Under different circumstances, a trio of young, handsome hunks would have been a welcome sight.  The three men were sculpted and strapping, their tapering, athletic frames looking as if they’d been poured into their straining business attire.  Broad shoulders, powerful arms, prominent pecs, perky bottoms, plump bulges; all were expertly accentuated and tastefully displayed by the fitted formal wear.  With their wide, jock jaws, deceptive boy-next-door charm, and expertly cropped coifs in varying shades of brown, the three young hunks could have passed for triplets.  They were the same six-foot height, the same twenty-five years of age, nearly the same weight, and they even sported similarly girthy packages.

Unfortunately for Donald, they also shared the same smug, condescending attitude.  “Aww, someone’s grumpy this morning,” Chad, the hunk to Brad’s left, cooed.  The only immediately detectable difference between the pair was the color of their ties, blue for Brad and a deep crimson for Chad.

The Stepford stud flanking Brad’s right nodded.  “We’re in a bit later than usual…he hasn’t had his morning dose yet,” Tad chuckled, his bicep inflating as he flexed and tugged at his emerald tie.  Far from trying to differentiate themselves, the trio leaned into their similarities, purposely adopting the same look save for a distinct color scheme.  It was a way of attracting more attention than their individually impressive looks already did, as well as a way to throw their weight around the office.  Anyone who thought the studly group’s pack mentality was merely a joke quickly found themselves facing the wrath of not one arrogant pretty-boy, but three, as the trio gleefully teased, taunted and terrorized anyone they deemed less perfect than themselves.

It was a category that most people fell into, and a fate that was all but inevitable for Donald.  While the wiry blonde was lean and shredded beneath his barista’s outfit, he was both shorter and smaller than the hunky threesome.  And if the physical differences hadn’t been enough by themselves, the fact that he’d been caught checking them out had painted a target squarely in the middle of his toned chest.  Since then, the group made it a point to stop in every morning on their way to the office specifically to antagonize him, an arrangement that Donald both resented and, infuriatingly, looked forward to.

While overwhelmingly arrogant and more than a little reminiscent of schoolyard bullies, the trio had yet to be cruel.  Condescending, yes, and so full of themselves that Donald didn’t know how the three of them fit into the same room given the size of their egos, but never mean, exactly.  They teased and taunted, going right up to the line without officially crossing over, leaving Donald in a frustrating state of arousal.  He wanted to point out that, for a trio of supposedly straight studs, the group was surprisingly infatuated with him, but he didn’t want to break the spell or tip the scales in the wrong direction.  Donald knew there was likely a shelf life to the aggressive equilibrium, a point at which things would eventually go too far, but they hadn’t reached it yet.  As things currently stood he could simply play along and pretend to be annoyed, all the while secretly enjoying the experience, and only feeling slightly bad about himself afterwards.

Donald rolled his eyes at Tad’s “morning dose” comment.  “Yep, you called it.  My day would be positively ruined if you three didn’t…”

We’ve arrived at a pivotal juncture for this young, growing pack.  The Bro is a social creature, needing the presence of other Bros not only for protection and security, but for entertainment and sexual release.  However, due to their competitive, aggressive nature, a pack of Bros is always on the lookout for a weaker member to fill the role of the omega.  This member is typically smaller than the rest of the Bros, and can provide much needed relief without all the posturing and struggles for dominance involved with the larger members.

There was a moment of stunned silence when the bodiless, interrupting voice stopped speaking.  The smooth, gentle tones sounded like they belonged to an older man, though no one matching that description was immediately present despite the man’s voice having been loud and clear.  It was almost as if they’d heard it through headphones, an appropriate comparison as they also appeared to be the only ones who’d heard anything at all.

“Uh…what the fuck was that,” Brad finally said, looking back at his two friends.  “Who just said that?  What was that shit about a pack?”

“I’m more concerned about the ‘sexual release’ part,” Tad responded, his statuesque face going red.  “I mean, I like you guys, but…”

“Then why are you hard as a rock right now, bro,” Chad laughed, reaching out to squeeze Tad’s obvious tent.

“Bro!”  The emerald-tied titan’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t pull away.  “Look who’s talking!  You’re about to pop outta your pants, bro.”

Chad’s plump lips fell open, but the surprised stud stayed silent.  He seemed shocked by both his own actions and his own sudden state of arousal, but he struggled to find the words.  “But…but I’m not…why do I keep saying…”

“Bros,” Brad barked, putting a hand on each of his friends’ shoulders.  He thrust his trim hips forward to emphasize his own rigid member.  “We’re ALL hard.  I mean, just look at him,” he said, nodding towards Donald.

Tad and Chad turned to face the blonde barista, both blinking and shaking their heads as if it would clear the fog that had settled around their thoughts.  “But…but bro…I’m into pussy…not…” Tad sputtered even as he pressed his rigid bulge harder into Chad’s hand.

“Bet you can still eat it out, bro,” Chad rumbled, his voice low as he absently kneaded his friend and gazed lustily at Donald.  “I’m gonna wear that little bitch like a glove.”

Brad practically groaned as he squeezed his friends’ shoulders and bit at his lower lip.  “Bet he’s even cuter when he’s all naked and blushing, bros.”

“Uhhh…guys?  What…what’re you doing,” Donald finally asked, his heart racing.  He was so captivated by the sudden display that it hadn’t immediately occurred to him to wonder why no one else was reacting to the sight of the three studs’ obvious, erect groping, but he was quickly realizing there were more immediate concerns.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The three hunks exchanged another silent glance.  They all knew their behavior was odd, the sudden shift in their speech and desires equally so, but with each passing second that certainty became less and less.  The longer they stared at Donald and gave voice to their new attraction, the more natural it felt.  A part of themselves was still mortified and confused, but that part was rapidly being outgrown by their animalistic urges.

A hallmark of the Bro is their unique physical characteristics. Due to the aggressive nature of pack life, a Bro typically maintains a large physique out of necessity.  The development of this musculature is aided by an abundance of testosterone, leading to other distinct traits such as ample body hair, pronounced adam’s apples, deeper voices, and larger than average sexual organs.

“Bros!  Who the fuck keeps talking?!”  Tad frantically looked around, startled out of his lustful haze by the bodiless voice.  “What are we doing?!  Why are we talking like…like…” For a fleeting moment he was once again painfully aware that he was being groped in public by Chad, but that insight fled when he felt his gripped equipment swell against his friend’s hand.  His eyes went wide when he saw a similar inflation occurring in the other man’s pants, the thickened organ increasingly outlined by the plastered-on material.  As impossible as it was, Chad seemed to be growing.  They all were.

Just like the voice described, Tad felt his already-ample muscle begin to inflate, his fingers brushing against the pronounced lump in his throat as he loosened the rapidly-constricting tie.  The flimsy collar exploded open when his widening neck overpowered the sole button, exposing an unfamiliar tuft of hair at the top of his chest.  The fur was as dense as it was surprising, appearing to be contagious when he spotted similar patches adorning the torsos of his two friends.  Their shirts were faring no better than his own, the buttons at their expanding pecs popping off to reveal more of the chocolate carpet while their chinos now looked like leggings.  Tad watched as scruffy stubble sprouted on his friends’ faces, his own high cheekbones itching as they were similarly coated, torn between excitement and horror.  They’d spent countless hours expertly honing and manscaping their athletic frames, so to suddenly expand into burly bodybuilder proportions, to sprout a whole-body pelt, was more than a little alarming.  Tad felt bloated and heavy, his formerly fitted clothes constricting and uncomfortable.  Instead of sculpted pretty-boys they looked like a trio of brawny, hairy meatheads who’d tried to squeeze into outfits meant for children.  But with that embarrassment came an intoxicating rush of power that left the hunky hulks more eager and aroused than ever.

“Bro!  What the fuck, bro!  We’re fuckin’ huge,” Brad roared at a volume entirely inappropriate for a coffee shop.  The actions that followed were equally out of place as he tore open the remains of Chad’s shirt and grabbed his friend’s furry new slab of a chest, roughly massaging the meaty mounds.  “Look at these fuckin’ tits, bro!”

“What’s with all this hair, bro,” Chad asked, his expanded jaw offset by a smug smirk as Brad’s thumbs lingered around his nipples.  “Even our nuts got furry!”  Chad’s hand had slipped fully into Tad’s pants, eliciting a dull, dazed grin as he tugged on his friend’s inflated, now-hairy orbs.

“Guys…guys!  What are you doing?!  What is even happening right now?”  Donald’s voice hovered near panic, the blonde’s head spinning both from what he witnessed and the continued lack of a reaction from anyone else.  Neither his coworkers nor any of the other customers seemed to notice the trio of jocks who’d suddenly sprouted hair and muscle to an impossible degree, one of whom was now openly jerking his friend off.

Donald regretted his outburst when all three looked in his direction.  “Bros…check out Donny now,” Brad rumbled in his deepened voice.  “Dude’s tiny!”

“And hard,” Tad laughed, nodding down at Donald’s equally obvious tent.  It was nowhere near as large as the trio’s, but, as with the altered hunks, the wiry blonde seemed unable to force himself to try and cover it.

“Like what you see, baby bro,” Chad asked, running a hand along the hairy new trenches of his exaggerated washboard.  “Now you show us yours.”

Excited by the presence of the omega, the pack’s playful antics turn serious just before the chase begins.  Despite how much he may want to, the new pack member knows he can’t simply submit, as such a display of weakness would sabotage his entry into the group.  The omega needs to make his would-be packmates work for their prize, and since he lacks the size for a physical confrontation, flight is his only option.

As the voice spoke, Donald watched the tattered remains of the trio’s business attire begin to change.  Loafers became bright sneakers, chinos shrank to pitifully small nylon shorts, and dress shirts became loose, draping muscle shirts.  All were in the same matching shades of black and gray, save for the backwards baseball caps that apparated on the trio’s heads - bright green for Tad, cherry for Chad, and bright blue for Brad.

Donald wanted to stay and enjoy the view.  The three furry hulks looked better than ever with their meaty, hairy legs on display and their broad, burly torsos and tufting hair spilling out of the pointless muscle shirts, but he was already on the move.  As soon as the voice had finished speaking he’d been hit with an irresistible urge to bolt.  His shift forgotten, the wiry blonde darted out the front door and began sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as his nimble legs would carry him, though he knew it wouldn’t be fast enough.  He could already hear the three men whooping and hollering after him like an actual pack of dogs, their longer, stronger legs able to overpower his shorter strides whenever they wanted.  Or, to be more precise, whenever HE wanted.

When the first pair of hands landed on his shoulders after a few blocks, Donald knew it was still too soon.  As the vice-like grip clamped down on him, he squirmed and struggled, his wiry frame flailing until his tight polo was literally torn away.  The brawny grip went with it, and Donald once again took off down the sidewalk, trying not to think about his bare-chested flight.  The lean blonde’s trim torso was covered in an impressive amount of definition, which was further accentuated by his naturally smooth skin.  Unlike the brawny brutes lumbering after him, other than a dusting on his legs and forearms, Donald only sported a light golden patch in the center of his toned chest.  He also wasn’t used to showing that smooth skin off in such a manner, his modesty making him uncomfortable to the point where he normally didn’t even linger naked by himself at home.

That inhibited inclination was further tested when a hairy mountain suddenly slammed into him from behind after another few blocks.  Donald braced himself for the pain of his face colliding with the pavement, but Brad twisted in midair, taking the brunt of the impact himself.  Like before, Donald squirmed and writhed in the brawny brunette’s meaty embrace, kicking his legs in vain as Chad and Tad approached from opposite sides.  While Brad held the wriggling blonde in place, the other two each grabbed the waist of the smaller man’s pants and pulled, tearing the khakis away as easily as they had the shirt.  Donald was horrified at the thought of being out in public in nothing but his sneakers and a pair of tiny, tented orange briefs, but he was equally captivated by the sensation of Brad’s broad, furry body beneath him.  He could feel the bigger brunette’s rigid cock digging into him, could see Tad and Chad’s thick logs as they bounced unrestricted beneath the tiny shorts, and a part of him wanted to let the group take him right then and there, regardless of where they were.

But he knew it wasn’t time.  Not yet.  With a nimble twist he managed to slip from Brad’s distracted embrace as the bigger man cheered the destruction of the khakis, bolting down the sidewalk with the trio whistling and cat-calling behind him.  His face burned as he caught people looking his way, and Donald tried to hold onto the knowledge that he had nothing to be embarrassed about by having his body on display.  He was lean and toned and handsome in his own right, with a perky, sizable bubble and a cock that, while not huge at five inches, was perfectly serviceable on his 5’7” frame.  But he’d never been out in public in only his briefs and glasses before, and never with a pack of horny hulks loping lustily after him.  By the time it finally occurred to Donald exactly where he’d been running to, and what he lacked to get inside, it was too late.

“Home sweet home, baby bro!”  Donald had the air knocked out of him as Tad slammed into him from behind, pressing him against the glass door of his apartment building.  He’d left his keys, wallet and phone in his bag at work, which made it all the more surprising when Chad pulled out a set of his own.  The bigger man took his time undoing the lock, letting Tad grind his tented shorts against Donald’s perky bubble as the blonde was wedged against the door.

“Good chase, bro,” Chad said, slipping through the open door and staring at Donald through the glass of the other.  He leaned down and inspected the smaller man’s rigid cock as it pressed against the pane, giving the glass a slow lick.

“Yeah, bro…this thing bounces when you’re running,” Brad laughed, giving Donald’s briefs a tug.  The orange underwear now down around his thighs, the blonde’s face burned at the thought of his full exposure.  His rigid cock was pressed against the glass, and he could feel the morning breeze against his bare bottom.  “Let’s get him upstairs.”

Donald didn’t know how the trio knew where he lived, but he was too busy hoping that they didn’t pass anyone along the way to give it much thought.  He was unceremoniously flung over Tad’s shoulder, his briefs pulled away and his tight hole entirely on display as they trudged up the stairs to the fourth floor.  Each heavy step, each landing they passed, was an eternity of inevitable embarrassment for the flustered blonde, his humiliation equally matched by his growing, desperate lust.

Fortunately, while there were a few close calls, Donald’s exposure went unobserved, though any relief he felt was quickly mitigated by the confusing alterations awaiting him inside his apartment.  As with the front door, the blushing blonde didn’t know how one of the trio had a key, though he was able to guess based on the piles of scattered, dirty laundry in a frighteningly familiar array of colors peppering the floor.  At the same time, the entire place reeked of an unfamiliar funk, a musky miasma of sweat, cum and body odor that seemed to permeate the very walls so potently that it made Donald’s head spin.

Being purely physical creatures, a pack of Bros relies on their superior physiques and sexual prowess to support themselves.  Due to the Bro’s extremely limited mental capacity, many of the day-to-day details and responsibilities are left to the omega, who is rewarded with constant attention from the grateful pack as long as he does what he is told.

Donald groaned as he was dumped onto a larger, more disheveled bed than the one he remembered.  None of his three new friends appeared at all bothered by what they’d just heard, that they’d been reduced to hairy, horny himbos who stripped, flexed and fucked for a living.  Donald didn’t know much about what their lives were like before, but he doubted that they’d envisioned such an outcome.  He certainly hadn’t pictured anything like the memories that were slowly filtering into his own addled mind, images of himself scampering naked around the apartment, taking care of the cooking and the cleaning while the barely-clothed bros continued to make mess after mess.  Donald was increasingly alarmed by his constant lack of clothing in the memories, his stomach both fluttering and dropping when he remembered that at least they let him put briefs on when company came over.  Sometimes.

“Fuckin’ get to it, bro!”  Chad’s sudden bark shook Donald out of his daze, and the blonde looked up just in time to see the hirsute hunks finish stripping down before he was roughly flipped over onto his stomach.  “It’s not gonna eat itself out.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuck,” Donald groaned when his hips were lifted into the air and he felt a stubble covered face bury itself between his perky cheeks.  He only had time to look up at Chad and Brad for a moment before Chad sat on the bed and scooted into position, grabbing him by the back of his head and guiding his face to the thick, waiting rod.  Donald didn’t need any encouragement.  Even if Chad’s heavy hand hadn’t been holding his head in place, the last thing the wiry blonde wanted to do was pull it away.  He eagerly lapped at the bigger man’s heavy, hairy balls, slowly running his tongue along the shaft.  Chad wouldn’t let him lift his head high enough to actually swallow the wide member, but Donald was content to bathe the churning orbs and the insides of the hirsute hunk’s meaty thighs while Tad went to town on his rear.

“Look at baby bro go,” Brad laughed, jerking himself with one hand while the other tugged on Donald’s comparatively tiny cock.  “He’s so cute when he’s all excited.”

“Bros…do you remember what we were even doing,” Tad asked, finally taking a break from licking Donald’s hole clean.  “Why were we just outside?”

“Fuck if I know, bro,” Chad shrugged, pulling Donald’s face up by the back of his hair.  “Were we goin’ somewhere, Donny?”

“I…I don’t…” Donald sputtered, the memory slipping away.  For one final, fleeting moment he was aware that his life as a barista had just been swapped out for that of a glorified housekeeper, but the idea of tending to a trio of horny hunks, of being used by the hairy hulks, felt like a much better option than slinging coffee.  At least until the memory of his old job faded altogether.  “...I don’t think so?”

“YOU don’t think,” Brad scoffed, grabbing Donald by his shoulders and effortlessly manhandling him onto his back.  “Bro.  That’s not how this works,” he growled, pressing the smaller man down into the mattress.  “WE don’t think, bro.  That’s your job.”

“Right, right…of course,” Donald sputtered, his whole body throbbing at the way Brad pinned him down.  He knew none of the three would ever even think about actually hurting him, but the raw, primal display was still a turn on.

“Bro…of course what,” Tad grunted as he hefted Donald’s legs into the air.

“Of course, broooOOOOHHHH!” the blonde howled as the bigger man thrust inside, his wide-eyed whimpers quickly muffled when Brad scooted forward and knelt over his face.  Donald wasted no time picking up where he’d left off with Chad, eagerly lapping at Brad’s balls and thighs as they nearly smothered him, all while Tad hammered away.  Above him, Brad and Chad began making out and going at each other, keeping themselves rigid and ready for when it was their turn to slip inside.