Tag: bears (Page 1 of 3)

DadMan in a blue suit with an crossed-spatula emblem stands confidently indoors beside a man in a tuxedo and red bow tie, who is kneeling and looking up at him in a warmly lit room.

Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 3)

2025-06-23 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Catch up on part 2 of “The Client is Always Wrong” before reading on…

Part 3: Servant Leadership

The rain came down in sheets, hammering the windows of the cozy townhouse tucked into the sleepy cul-de-sac like applause from the sky. Inside, it was all warmth: amber firelight flickering across hardwood floors, the soft drone of a streaming reality show half watched, and the smell of cinnamon from some fancy coffee drink Frank had insisted on making despite Mike’s teasing.

Frank was curled under a blanket on the sofa, gray-socked feet resting on the coffee table as he scrolled through his phone. Mike, hair tousled from the shower, leaned back in the armchair with a dog-eared paperback, one finger holding his place while he sipped his room-temperature mug of “Mocha Minty” and tried not to smirk.

DadMan with a dark beard and a blue suit featuring crossed spatulas on the chest stands confidently in a parking garage surrounded by parked cars.

Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 2)

2025-06-16 / admin bot / 1 Comment

Catch up on part 1 of “The Client is Always Wrong” before reading on…

Part 2: Slow Correction

The next morning, the lobby of Langston & Smythe Accountancy, Inc., was tranquil. The receptionist, Jason, sat blinking down at the steaming cup of coffee placed neatly on his desk. On the crisp cardboard sleeve, a smily face was drawn in permanent marker. Jason glanced up, perplexed, at the broad-shouldered man who had just handed it to him.

“Uh… thanks?” he said cautiously.

Brandon gave him what was clearly meant to be a warm smile. It appeared to have been copied from a YouTube tutorial on executive charm. “You’ve been so helpful this week,” he said, his voice more measured than usual. “Figured it was the least I could do to show my appreciation.”

DadMan, a muscular superhero in a blue costume with crossed forks on his chest, stands beside a shocked man in a suit who is gesturing and talking to a serious waiter taking notes in an elegant, dimly lit room.

Adventures of DadMan: The Client is Always Wrong (Part 1)

2025-06-09 / admin bot / 2 Comments

Part 1: The Spark of Discipline

Living up to its pretentious name, Bistro Bistro had a self-consciously sleek ambience particular to the upper tier of the city’s dining scene: cool lighting, leather banquettes, waitstaff in minimalist black, and wine lists that read like doctoral dissertations. It was the kind of place Mike wouldn’t have chosen himself—he preferred something cozier, more homestyle cooking and less performance art—but tonight Frank was celebrating surviving a particularly hellish client project, and Mike, ever gracious, had let him pick the restaurant.

They sat tucked into a semi-private alcove near the window, their fingers brushing across the crisp table linen as they shared a plate of olives and sipped on Tempranillo. Mike, as always, wore his quiet elegance like a second skin. With salt-and-pepper stubble, thin glasses framing his intelligent eyes, and a voice that rarely rose above a murmur, Mike knew how to disappear in a room unless he wanted to be noticed. Frank loved that about him.

But tonight, someone else wanted attention.

A table filled with various fried foods, including fried chicken, burgers, fries, pancakes, and dishes with creamy sides, all arranged closely together in a bright, inviting setting.

Caged hunger

2025-05-05 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Jack cradled the overloaded plate like it was fragile porcelain, even though it was just the same scratched-up dinnerware they’d used for years. Still, there was reverence in how he handled it, maybe because of what it carried. Balanced precariously beside a pastrami and Swiss sub the length of his forearm was a half-empty bag of kettle chips and a box of peanut butter cookies.

He was shirtless, his salt-and-pepper chest hair matted in patches from sweat, and the soft swell of his meaty pecs jiggled slightly with each step. His thighs pushed against the fabric of his lounge shorts, and the waistband dug just beneath the curve of his soft, furred gut. Warm, round, and lightly swaying, his belly brushed the counter’s edge as he pivoted toward the living room.

Two muscular, shirtless men in brown jumpsuits stand in the foreground, their chests exposed and sweaty. In the background, a man in a shirt looks on with a serious expression, partially obscured by shadows.

The Space Bears (chapters 1-3)

2025-04-28 / admin bot / 0 Comments

I’ve expanded My short story from 2023 into a full-length transformation epic. Read the first three chapters here.

Chapter 1: The Golden Ticket

I had been based out of Artemis Station for nearly a decade, working long-haul cargo routes to neglected outposts and failed experiments in galactic living. Six months to Vesta. Fourteen to New Rockall. The occasional ten-week jog to Hyperion. Interstellar freight isn’t glamorous, but the solitude suited me. The pay was steady. And when you’re in deep sleep for most of the journey, the years barely touch you.

Some guys can’t handle it—waking up decades older than their friends, missing birthdays, funerals, and civilizations. Me? I had nothing waiting for me planetside. No lovers, no obligations. I liked it that way.

The Space Bears

Joseph Cole thought he was just signing up for a nine-month cargo run from Artemis Station to Earth. Instead, he found himself locked, trained, and transformed by Bradford and Chapman, the legendary “space bears” whose reputation for rough camaraderie and extreme bonding rituals precedes them across the stars.

Stranded aboard the aging freighter Berengaria, trapped in a relentless program of sweat, muscle, and total control, Joseph is dragged into a brotherhood he never saw coming, and soon never wants to leave.

Chastity devices, enforced masculinity, muscular transformation, sweaty bear bonding, and irreversible submission drive this high-heat, high-grit space saga. Once you’re aboard, there’s no way out—not that you’ll want one.

The Space Bears is a 7,900-word short story. It is a full-length, complete, and expanded version of Jay Hypno’s original Space Bears series, now revised and filthy as ever. All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.

Spent Casings

Will Reed walked into the firing range looking for clarity. What he found was Burke Lawson—gruff, grounded, and impossibly unreadable. As Will trades curated dinners and performative politics for steel, sweat, and submission, a new identity begins to form—one built on quiet control, earned respect, and the searing gravity of command.

But Burke isn’t just a mentor. He’s a man with his own edge—one that wants to yield, if only someone would take him.

Spent Casings is a 9,900-word slow-burn gay romance of masculine transformation, power exchanged in silence, and desire forged in smoke and spent brass. For readers who crave rough tenderness, reverent obedience, and the kind of devotion that kneels without shame.

All content in this story is fictional and depicts activities between consenting, unrelated adults who are 18+.

A dark, high-contrast image of many shell casings, with a reflective surface that catches the light, creating a textured effect.

Spent casings (chapters 1 and 2)

2025-04-14 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Chapter 1

The inside of U-Shoot-It Firing Range and Supply smelled like oil, sweat, and scorched earth, like the air after a lightning storm, but heavier. Will Reed hesitated outside the doorway, one hand resting awkwardly on his hip like he didn’t know what to do with it. The front desk guy had given him a clipboard and a set of eye and hearing protection without looking up. Standing outside the range’s heavy double doors, he realized he had no idea what came next. The rules were pinned bold, red, and unapologetic to the wall: No rapid fire. Always point downrange. Cross-lane shooting is explicitly forbidden.

The flannel shirt he’d pulled from the rack at the discount store itched against his skin. It still smelled of sizing spray and had the price tag on the inside of the left armpit. He owned the shirt since he paid for it, but it was still just a costume for him. Instead of wearing it, the shirt wore him. He stretched the hearing protection over his head and settled the pads over his ears, then adjusted the baseball cap he’d bought on a whim last week. The brim was too stiff, and the logo too clean.

He looked wrong in this place, and he knew it.

A bearded man with a white mustache is smoking a cigar, with swirling smoke around him. He is wearing a white shirt and tie, and has slicked-back hair. The background is dark, accentuating his features and the smoke.

The Everweight Club

2025-01-27 / admin bot / 2 Comments

Caden adjusted the collar of his tight black shirt, letting his fingers trace the line of the perfectly tailored fabric. His reflection stared back at him in the full-length bedroom mirror, a mix of confidence and vanity gleaming in his pale green eyes. His body was his trophy, earned through long, sweaty hours at the gym and an unrelenting diet of grilled chicken, kale smoothies, and tequila shots—the latter strictly for social purposes, of course.

His lean frame was a masterwork—a canvas of sharp angles and taut, tanned skin. His chest was broad but not overbuilt, his waist narrow and cutting a sharp V into his low-slung trousers. His jawline, always adorned with just the right amount of stubble, was one of his best features, or so he’d been told. Caden knew how to use his looks—whether that meant an easy smirk that won over a bartender or the slow, deliberate way he unbuttoned a shirt when he knew someone was watching.

Two men with beards are sitting side by side in a dimly lit room with red curtains. Both are wearing leather jackets and looking away from the camera, creating a mysterious and moody atmosphere.

ThinkTech (chapter 7)

2025-01-13 / admin bot / 0 Comments

Catch up on chapter 6 before reading on…

Rick and Zach sat on the worn leather couch in Rick’s dimly lit living room. The blinds were drawn, shutting out the world, casting the room in an artificial darkness illuminated only by the faint blue glow of a ThinkTech logo blinking across the screen. They were clad head to toe in tight, shiny leather that hugged every curve, the material creaking softly whenever one of them shifted, though they rarely did.

Rick’s hands, gloved in smooth, polished leather, lay slack on his knees. His face was blank, his mouth slightly open, jaw loose, lips parted in a dull, unfeeling line. Beside him, Zach sat in the same stillness, his once-vibrant eyes now dulled, staring vacantly at the flickering screen. The same powerful chest that had once radiated confidence now rose and fell in shallow, empty breaths, his broad shoulders slumped. His beard was still thick and well kept, but it only served to heighten the emptiness in his expression—a man still physically imposing, yet now a shell, hollowed out and stripped of any presence.