Category Archives: Story

Story

Discipline Training Institute – Part 3: The Transformation

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Fiction by JockBoy

I never thought I would answer a letter like that. The envelope was plain, sealed with a black insignia. I turned it in my hands, feeling its weight pressing down, tightening an unseen band around my chest. Fear or craving—I couldn’t tell which—compelled me to open it.

The Discipline Training Institute was no gym, no boot camp. It was a crucible—a furnace—to strip men bare, to burn off their pride and forge obedience in scarred muscle and shattered will. Its creed was clear: absolute obedience. Relentless effort. No excuses.

At first, I couldn’t see why Collins—the friend who knew my every laugh and bruise—had pushed so hard. But now I saw: he had walked its fires. The letter he sent, a desperate lifeline, never reached me. Instead, his will found me here.

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Story

Discipline Training Institute Part 2: The Trainer and The Trainee

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Fiction by JockBoy

[TOP SECRET // DTI-OPS]

Acquisition File: QB‑117
Classification: ALPHA‑RED TARGET
[DTI-QB117-SEC1] SURVEILLANCE DOSSIER

Compiled By: Collegiate Acquisition Branch
Source Reliability: HIGH (Informant: Coach R.H. – compromised under threat of exposure)

PHYSICAL PROFILE:

Exceptional size and contact-sport build, with upper and lower body musculature surpassing elite collegiate benchmarks.

Commanding physical presence and posture that demand respect.

False public image crafted around perceived power and leadership,

In communal showers, his prominent physique and penis size become focal points of silent envy and scrutiny.

Uses appearance to dominate teammates

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Story

Discipline Training Institute – Part 1: Recruitment

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Fiction by JockBoy

What if the savage world of ruthless discipline you crave isn’t just your fantasy, but your destiny—a sentence you cannot escape? The Discipline Training Institute is calling—and you WILL belong inside.

Wouldn’t it be something if a place like this truly existed—a hidden institute built for strong men like you with unspoken, darker cravings? It always begins the same way: a message appears in your inbox. You are lured into a world where your false hyper-masculinity is shattered, leaving you broken and born anew as something you don’t understand but can never escape.  

This is labeled fiction. But fiction is a fragile disguise. It can conceal what should never be spoken, distort what should be clear, or comfort you while quietly smuggling in truths too sharp to admit. Sometimes a “story” is the only vessel strong enough to carry truth and reality.

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Story

Coming Tomorrow: Experience the Terror of the Discipline Training Institute

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Fiction by JockBoy

What’s left of your body and your mind now belong to the predators who run the Discipline Training  Institute. They strip away your pride, layer by layer, until nothing remains but raw submission.
Strong men like you convulse, groan, even ejaculate—not from pleasure, but from the terror of your own helplessness under the weight of unrelenting pain and degradation.

Hog ties twist your limbs—wrists crushed behind your back, ankles locked tight.Your forced “Thank you, Sir” scrape through your clenched teeth, binding your mind as tightly as the ropes bind your body.
Then the stress positions, forced workouts,  and sleep deprivation take their toll. Shame overwhelms you. Rank, mastery, strength—they are all illusions here.
But the hierarchy is real. So you are left to wonder: Will I always be prey—or could I become  predator?

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Story

Gimp Time

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By Rubrpig

This slave is wearing Wesco boots, body harness, locked posture collar and nipple clamps.  It is also locked in a Carrara Extreme chastity belt.

Dan was excited as he was heading to spend the weekend with a new rubber Top that he had become involved with online.  The Top known online as Gimpmaker had ordered Dan to spend the weekend starting Friday night so that he could be tested to see if he was worthy of becoming a rubber slave.  Dan was extremely excited as he knew that if he succeeded in pleasing then he would be accepted as a full-time rubber slave.

Dan finally arrived at the address he had been given and pulled into the lot behind an old warehouse.  He got out, his combat boots crunching on the gravel.  As ordered, he pulled off the t-shirt and then kicked off his boots and stripped off his jeans.  Putting his boots back on, he was otherwise naked as ordered.  Before leaving his apartment, he had shaved and used hair remover on his body from the neck down.  His normally furry body was now smooth, and it felt strange to his touch.

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Story

The Firemans Union – Part 08

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By Felon

So the two of us were stretched out on tables with lit taper candles inserted in our assholes. There was activity at the other end of the room, probably eating, drinking and card playing. I assumed the candle wax would eventually burn low, but I had to lay very still on the table. Looking down I noticed some new equipment laying on the floor, chains, which looked to be former truck snow chains, clamps of various sizes, oxygen tanks similar to the tanks firefighters wore while putting out fires. Electric drills (hmmmm).

The room was a rather large room with wood floors and some tiled floors like one would see in an old supermarket. The neighborhood seemed to be on the downside, and either the place was soundproofed, or there was little or no commercial traffic in the area. I had lost total track of their time, and these men all worked different shifts — coming and going etc. I was exhausted, and Probie One looked like he was as well. The cracking of the fire dept radio was ever present. Without warning, I could hear chairs moving and footsteps.

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Story

The Lock-In – Part 05

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By Cuffed Locked

I blinked awake to the glare of daylight flooding the basement. My arms were still cuffed behind me, the collar snug at my throat, and exhaustion felt like liquid in every muscle. My mind spun, trying to make sense of time again, when I heard the stairs creak. Caleb and Derek appeared at the top — effortlessly composed, as if they’d just stepped out of an ad for guys who never lose control. Caleb carried a fresh coffee, hair neatly styled and shirt crisp. Derek moved with an athlete’s ease, wearing a clean hoodie and joggers, smirking like he’d never been anywhere but in control. They didn’t rush.

Instead, Caleb lingered at the top step for a moment and said, soft, amused: “Nice spread.” He didn’t need to clarify. My posture, the cuffs, even the dull ache from the collar — they all spoke his language. I had asked for this.

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Story

The Firemans Union – Part 07

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By Felon

I was wheeled into the big room. Men were still in the kitchen having dinner — firehouse chili — and I was wheeled up to a place that was set up for me. The tables were arranged so we were face-to-face. Probie 1 was supposed to be an old hand in this action, but I could see tears streaming down his face. He had an inflatable mouth gag.

I was strapped down in a similar position, including the mouth gag. The Chief came into the room with two eye masks, which he placed on both of our faces. Then he left and returned with a walkie talkie tuned in to the fire department channel. He indicated that since he was acting chief that night he had to be in communication with his men in case of an emergency. Both of us were totally at the mercy of the men eating in the kitchen.

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