Training the Difference

Eli’s life was fine. He worked from home, went for a run, saw friends sometimes, and used the apps when he felt like it. He had sex now and then. He usually bottomed. It wasn’t bad, just not exciting. Most nights ended with TV and a quiet jerk-off before bed. Lots of routines. But he was always alone.

It was the middle of his morning run, his headphones were in. His pace was steady, breath tight, zone locked. He didn’t see the guy until it was too late. Solid mass of muscle, sweaty, shirtless and right in his path. He clipped a shoulder and half-spun, stumbling sideways into grass.

“Shit, sorry—!” he gasped, tugging a bud out of his ear.

The guy barely moved. Just turned his head slowly, a heavy kettlebell still hanging from one hand like it weighed nothing. He was broad and sunlit, chest rising, skin flushed from effort. Short brown hair, clean-shaven, a small towel hanging from his waistband.

“You good?” the man asked, voice calm, unreadable. Bright eyes that were a little unsettling.

“Yeah. Yeah, I didn’t see you. My fault.” Eli straightened up, brushing off his thigh. “You were just standing there.”

“I was between sets.”

Eli glanced at the kettlebell, heavy-duty, scuffed, probably 70 pounds. There was another bigger one by the bench nearby, along with a water bottle and a phone facedown in the grass.

“I thought this was a running path,” Eli added, too breathless to sound defensive.

The guy shrugged. “Doubles as a gym if you bring your own.”

He smiled, offered a hand. Eli hesitated, not out of rudeness, but from the jolt of awareness. The man’s hand was big, callused, veins prominent across the back. Eli took it anyway, got pulled up too easily, too fast, chest nearly bumping against him again before he caught his balance.

“Thanks,” Eli muttered.

The guy’s mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.

“I’m Tommy.”

“Eli.”

“You run here a lot?” Tommy asked.

Eli nodded. “Most mornings. You?”

“Only when I don’t feel like the gym. Sun’s better than fluorescent lights.”

Eli nodded again, still catching his breath. His eyes flicked down and back, Tommy’s chest was thick with muscle, torso tapered hard, shorts hanging low on wide hips. Sweat darkened the waistband.

Tommy caught the glance. He didn’t call it out. Just lifted the kettlebell again, casually, switching hands.

“Be careful next time,” he said. “I could’ve flattened you.”

Eli flushed. “I’ll try to keep my eyes open.”

Tommy nodded, then turned back to his set like the conversation was already over. Eli lingered for a second. Then started running again, slower this time, slipping his earbuds back in.

---

The same trail. Different morning. Still early enough that the sun cut low and gold through the trees. Eli told himself he wasn’t looking for him, but his eyes flicked sideways every time the path curved.

He was halfway through his second loop when his calf seized like a vice.

“Fuck—”

He staggered off the trail, one hand gripping a tree, the other pressing into the spasm like pressure might force it out. It only tightened. Then he heard gravel crunch.

“Breathe through it,” said a voice behind him.

Eli turned, wincing. Tommy was there.

“You cramping?”

“Yeah. Calf.”

Tommy nodded once. “Lie down.”

Eli hesitated. Tommy gestured to a flat patch of grass. “C’mon. Before it locks up worse.”

He obeyed. Tommy knelt beside him. “Straighten the leg.”

Eli did. Tommy took hold of the ankle and lifted, steady and slow, supporting the heel with one hand and planting the other just above Eli’s knee. His hands were warm. Strong.

“Let me know when it starts to pull.”

“Now,” Eli breathed.

Tommy held there. “Breathe into it.”

Eli tried. The pain dulled slightly, overtaken by a growing awareness of Tommy’s grip, the weight of his gaze, the way the world narrowed to breath and pressure and heat.

Tommy’s eyes weren’t on the stretch anymore. They moved up his body, tracking the way Eli’s t-shirt clung to his chest. His shorts had hiked up when he lay back, revealing the line of his hip, the light scatter of hair at his thigh. He was lean, but there was definition under the runner’s frame.

“You run this hard every day?”

Eli nodded. “Four to five miles. Sometimes more. Helps me think.”

“You hydrate?”

“Usually.”

Tommy didn’t answer. He adjusted the angle of the leg slightly. Eli’s breath caught.

“Hold that.”

Tommy let the leg down slow, one hand lingering a beat longer than it needed to on Eli’s shin. Then he sat back on his heels, arms resting lightly on his thighs.

“You’ve got a good build,” Tommy said. “Lean. Efficient. But not much reserve. You burn out fast if you don’t prep right.”

Eli blinked up at him. “Is that a fancy way of calling me skinny?”

Tommy shook his head. “You push harder than your frame’s built for. That’s not a bad thing.”

Eli sat up, breathing steadier now.

“You can tell all that just from looking?”

“I notice things,” Tommy said.

Eli flushed. “Like what?”

Tommy stood, offered a hand. Eli took it. Again, pulled up too easily, body coming close to Tommy’s. Not touching, not quite, but enough to feel the heat of him.

Then Tommy turned back toward his kettlebells. Conversation over. Not dismissive, just done.

---

The loop was hot this morning, even in the shade. Eli’s shirt stuck to his back, sweat soaking through the fabric, legs aching from the second lap he hadn’t meant to take. He told himself he was just pushing, not looking. But then he saw him.

Tommy was near the grass by the fence, crouched beside his kettlebells, winding down. He was shirtless, towel in hand. His shorts were damp, clinging low on his hips. He stood up slow, like he’d just finished something heavy. Eli slowed down instinctively. Tommy saw him.

“You done?” he asked, like they’ve known each other forever.

“Almost,” Eli said. “You?”

“Wrapped up a minute ago.” Then he said, “You wanna swim?”

Eli blinked. “What?”

“My buddy has a pool nearby. I’m watching his house for a bit.”

Eli looked him over, hair damp, chest rising, skin glowing faintly with salt and sun.

“I didn’t bring a suit.”

Tommy grabbed his bag. “I have an extra.”

That was all he said. Eli hesitated for half a second then nodded.

“Yeah. Okay.”

The house was clean-lined and half hidden by trees, modern and still. The backyard was quiet. A long, narrow lap pool shimmered in the sun, clear and cool-looking. No one else was home. Tommy led him through the gate, dropped his bag on a chair, and pulled his shirt off in one motion. Then he reached into the side pocket and held something out.

“Here,” he said.

Eli looked down. A very small black speedo. Tight, sleek, and unmistakably not what he’d expected.

“You can change behind the pool house,” Tommy added.

Eli nodded and ducked around the side. His shirt peeled off damp. His shorts stuck coming down. He stared at the suit in his hands for a second. He could’ve backed out. But he didn’t.

When Eli stepped out, the suit felt too tight, too revealing. It framed everything: hips, stomach, his package, with nothing left to adjust without drawing attention.

Then he saw Tommy. He was already standing on the far side of the pool, tall, relaxed, messing with his watch. He wore black square-cut swim trunks, snug but not flashy, until you saw the way they shaped around him: thick thighs, deep V-cut hips, and a heavy, obvious bulge that left no doubt.

Eli swallowed. Tommy glanced up, barely a look. He didn’t comment. Just dropped his towel and stepped into the water with a slow, clean motion.

“You good?” he asked over his shoulder.

Eli nodded. “Yeah. Just… wasn’t expecting a speedo.”

Tommy leaned against the far wall, chest half-submerged. “It’s that or nothing.”

Eli stepped into the water. The cold helped. Not with the nerves, but with everything else. They swam a few lazy laps, no rush. Sometimes they passed close, arms brushing under the surface, legs slipping just out of sync. At one point, Eli reached the wall just behind Tommy and surfaced to find him resting there, arms stretched along the edge.

He pushed off the wall and glided clean into the next lap, water folding behind him. Eli watched the ripple trail, then followed without thinking.

---

Tommy floated beside Eli, chest bare and steady, arms extended against the pool’s edge.

“Your breathing’s off,” he said.

Eli blinked. “What?”

“You hold it too long. Tenses you up.”

Eli nodded and pushed off. He felt Tommy gliding alongside him, silent in the water. When he reached the far wall, Tommy’s hand slid to his wrist, adjusting the angle of his arm.

“Pull straighter. Don’t cross your body.”

The touch was light, but firm. Eli could feel Tommy’s chest near his shoulder, the warm length of his thigh brushing past underwater, and his ever-present bulge.

“You wrestle?” Tommy asked suddenly, voice low and casual. Then he splashed his face, followed by a half-grab. Eli lunged, arms around his shoulders, but Tommy just pivoted, caught him, and dropped him backward into the water like it was nothing.

Eli came up laughing, sputtering. “Okay, okay.”

But Tommy just raised a brow. They went again. Wrestling in the pool turned sloppy fast, arms sliding on wet skin, legs tangling. Tommy never moved fast, but he never had to. He met Eli’s effort with steady resistance, every motion solid, contained.

And every time they connected, Eli felt it. The bulge. There was no ignoring it now. The shape of it inside those trunks, thick, firm, constantly brushing into him during holds and grapples.  Not thrusting or grinding. Just there.

By the time Tommy caught him again, arms wrapped around Eli from behind, Eli had stopped reacting. The press of the bulge against his lower back had become familiar.

“You’re done,” Tommy said quietly, his breath close.

Then he released him. They stood a moment, water swirling between them.

“You’ve got good grip,” Tommy said. “For your size.”

“You’ve got gravity on your side,” Eli said, half-smiling.

Tommy shrugged. “That too.”

He floated backward, easy, unbothered.

---

At first, they didn’t talk. But the water drifted them closer. Eli didn’t notice until their knees brushed. Then thighs. Then hips. Tommy didn’t shift away. Neither did he. The silence lasted a while before Tommy spoke.

“You got any brothers?”

Eli blinked, eyes half closed. “No. Just a younger sister.”

Tommy nodded. “No dad around?”

“Single mom. Since I was six.”

Tommy’s expression didn’t change. He let the jets hum for a beat.

“No coaches?”

Eli gave a slight shrug. “I ran. But no one really trained me. I figured stuff out on my own.”

Tommy turned slightly toward him. “You ever have someone actually track what you’re doing? Push you through real structure?”

Eli shook his head. “No.”

“You want that?”

It took Eli a moment to answer. Tommy was close now. The heat off his body radiated through the water. His leg was pressed to Eli’s under the bubbles.

“I think I do,” he said.

Tommy gave a small nod. “I could train you. If you’re serious.”

Eli looked at him. “I’m in.”

“Yeah? You have to be serious.”

Eli hesitated, then for some reason he said: “I’m serious.”

“Good,” Tommy said simply. “Then we’ll start with measurements.”

Eli blinked. “Now?”

Tommy stood. “Yeah, I mean, if you’re serious.”

He rose from the water in one clean movement, steam rising off his body. Water traced his chest, his stomach, his thighs, the trunks clung tight and low, outlining the full weight of his package. Where the fabric dipped in front, a visible tuft of brown pubic hair peeked just above the waistband, caught in the wet, pulled-down angle of the trunks. He didn’t seem to notice.

---

The bathroom was warm and full of light. A towel lay on the tile floor, and Tommy stood nearby with a soft measuring tape in one hand, letting it coil and uncoil casually between his fingers.

A digital scale sat by the door. Tommy tapped it on with his foot. “Step one: weigh-in. I’ll go first.”

Tommy stepped up without hesitation. The scale blinked, then settled: 225.2 pounds. Tommy nodded, as if confirming a number he already knew. “Still holding steady. Ten, maybe eleven percent body fat.”

Eli raised an eyebrow. “You can tell just by looking?”

Tommy stepped off. “Pretty much. You learn to read it.”

He gestured. “Go ahead.”

Eli stepped up, barefoot. The numbers flickered, then landed: 124.8 pounds.

Tommy let out a quiet whistle. “Hundred-pound spread.”

Eli stepped down. “I know. I’m small.”

“You’re tight,” Tommy said. “Probably around eight or nine percent body fat. Not a lot of cushion anywhere.”

Tommy had Eli stand straight against the doorframe, heels together, back flat. He dropped a flat ruler gently on top of Eli’s head, eyes squinting as he aligned it with the tape he’d stuck to the wall earlier. “Five-seven even,” he said, stepping back to double-check.

He unhooked the soft tape from the counter and pointed to the towel.

“Stand on the towel,” he said, already moving into place.

Eli stepped forward, still wearing the damp black speedo. His arms hung at his sides, unsure. Tommy didn’t make eye contact, just started measuring. He began at the chest, wrapping the tape flat under Eli’s arms and across his sternum.

“Thirty-seven,” he said aloud. “Could push that to forty easy.”

He moved up to the shoulders. “Sixteen-point-seven-five. Decent for your frame.”

Then came the waist. Tommy double-checked the number, then raised an eyebrow.

“Twenty-six.”

Eli glanced down. “Is that… bad?”

Tommy shook his head. “Not bad, no.  Just very tight.”

Tommy kept going, arms, wrists, thighs, calves, calling out each number as he went. “Ten and a half, biceps. Nine on the forearms. Wrists are just over five. Thighs, seventeen. Calves, twelve-point-eight. Ankles, seven and a half.”

He paused, then stood and let the tape rest against his thigh.

“Alright,” he said simply. “Take off the speedo.”

Eli blinked. “Wait, why?”

Tommy met his eyes, casual. “Measure your dick.”

Eli didn’t move. Tommy added, “Just another metric.”

Eli stared at him for another second then sighed and peeled the speedo off. He stepped out of it, folded it, and set it down on the counter. His posture stiffened, arms hovering awkwardly.

Tommy crouched again, holding up the tape measure to Eli’s soft cock.

“Flaccid: one and a half inches. Two inches around.”

“Scrotum: tight, even, close to the body. Small whisp of pale brown pubic hair.”

Eli stood still, breathing shallow. And then, slowly, predictably he started to get hard. He blushed bright red. Tommy didn’t react. Just re-measured.

“Erect: three and a half inches long. Three around.” He stood. “Three by three.”

Eli glanced at him, face warm. Tommy shrugged once and stepped past Eli, adjusting his own waistband. The fabric stretched tight across his noticeably heavier bulge. A thick patch of brown pubic hair curled above the edge of his trunks.

Eli glanced. Tommy caught it. He pulled down the trunks a bit to show his bush.

“My pubes are ridiculous,” he said, tugging the waistband slightly. “It’s like a damn forest.”

Eli gave a faint smile. “I don’t really have a lot.”

Tommy nodded. “For your body type, trimming would probably look cleaner, even shave.”

Eli looked uncertain. “Shave?”

Tommy didn’t push. “You don’t have to. Just saying, it’d fit your frame better.”

He handed the folded speedo back without fanfare.

“You’re good.”

Then he left the bathroom. Eli stood there a second longer, holding the black suit, still naked, still thinking then pulled it on and followed.

---

Eli pulled his shirt over his head, still damp from the pool, while Tommy scrolled through his notes on his phone. “Tomorrow we’ll hit the track first,” he said. “Intervals, maybe sled pulls if the weather holds. Then back here for water drills, breathing work, maybe some kick training.” Eli nodded, lacing up one shoe. As he moved to the other, Tommy looked over at him again.

“You should seriously think about shaving,” Tommy said.

Eli glanced up. “What?”

“Your pubes.” Tommy didn’t blink. “You’ve got a clean frame. Shaving would sharpen that up.” He paused. “Chicks love it smooth.”

Eli gave a short, surprised laugh under his breath. But he was also kind of confused. What was going on here?

Tommy smirked a little. “My bush is so big I wish I could shave it off.”

“Why can’t you?”

Tommy gave him a look, somewhere between amused and serious. “It’d just be weird.”

There was a beat of silence as Eli stood up, shirt half-stuck to his back.

Tommy added, “If you want, next time I can help you out.”

Eli blinked. “With shaving?”

“Yeah,” Tommy said, as if it were obvious. “Get you all cleaned up right.”

---

Eli lay on his bed, towel still wrapped around his waist, phone balanced on his chest. He called his friend Noah. They met at an art class a few years ago and Noah was the first gay friend that Eli ever had where it wasn’t about getting into each other’s pants.

“Hey,” Noah answered softly. “You alive?”

“Barely.”

“You sound wrecked. What happened?”

“I met someone. His name’s Tommy. Ran into him at the park a few days ago, literally. He helped me with a cramp, we talked. Saw him again the next day. Today he took me swimming at his friend’s place.”

Noah made a quiet sound. “Wasting no time.” They both giggle.

“Yeah. He’s intense. Super chill though. He notices everything. Then he said he wanted to train me. Full schedule. After we were done in the pool, he took me in the bathroom and measured… everything. Like with a tape measure.”

“Everything?”

“Yeah, seriously everything. Including my dick. Said it was just baseline stats. Then he told me I should shave and offered to help next time.”

Noah laughed softly, “Of course he did.” Then he was quiet for a second. “But you like it.”

Eli let out a breath. “I did. It felt good to be looked at like that. Kinda clinical but… so focused. I don’t even know if I like him like that yet. I just feel pulled.”

“It sounds hot,” Noah said simply. A small pause. “Just send me his name tomorrow, okay? And maybe drop a pin when you’re over there. Quiet stuff. So I know you’re good.”

Eli’s phone buzzed.

TOMMY: You sore? Bring water tomorrow. You’re running sleds.

“That him?” Noah asked.

“Yeah. Sleds tomorrow.”

Noah exhaled, almost smiling. “You’re really in this.”

“I am.”

“Then go be in it. Just don’t disappear on me completely.”

“I won’t.”

“Night, Eli.”

“Night.”

---

The gym smelled like rubber and sweat and chalk. Tommy had mapped out everything the night before, warm-up circuits, supersets, intervals. It was structured but not robotic. Nothing felt random.

Eli moved through kettlebell deadlifts to goblet squats, then single-leg hip thrusts on a bench while Tommy counted reps, corrected his ankle angle, told him to breathe out harder at the top.

“Posterior chain needs work,” Tommy said calmly, spotting him through a paused squat. “You leak power through the glutes.”

Eli had never heard anyone say that before. And it made sense. Everything Tommy said made sense. He was learning his body in real time: where it wanted to cheat, where it was underdeveloped. By the time they hit sled pushes, Eli was soaked and panting but wide awake inside his skin.

They showered after, steam rising from the concrete tile. Tommy’s body looked exactly the way it functioned: efficient, heavy, calm. His square-cut black trunks from the other day had been replaced by nothing, and even in the blur of steam, Eli couldn’t ignore the thick, pendulous penis and testicles that hung between his legs. It was part of Tommy, like everything else.

“You held up better today,” Tommy said under the spray. “Recovery’s faster already.”

Eli nodded, water in his eyes.

Then Tommy said, like he was pointing out something obvious, “We should shave you smooth today.”

Eli turned, startled. “Here?”

“No. At the house.”

“People can hear you,” Eli muttered, glancing down the open row of showers.

Tommy shrugged. “So?”

Eli didn’t answer.

---

Eli stood in the bathroom in his boxer briefs, not really sure what was about to happen. Tommy walked in naked, holding clippers and a new razor. His cock hung low and full, just heavy enough to sway slightly with his steps. A vein tracked up the shaft like a branch. His bush was thick and unruly.

“Strip,” he said.

Eli hesitated, then slipped out of them. Tommy didn’t react. He just clicked on the clippers and got to work. The whole process was strange only for how normal it felt. Tommy shaved like he trained, clean, efficient, no wasted motion. He held Eli steady by the hip, moved with intention. Eli could feel the warmth of his breath once or twice, but Tommy never lingered. It wasn’t sexual. It was… physical. Intimate in a different register. When he was done, Tommy rinsed him with warm water and wiped him down with a clean towel.

“There,” he said, standing upright, looking him over. “Looks better.”

Eli looked down. Smooth. Clean. All gone.

When he looked up again, Tommy was still watching him. His cock had started to rise, slow and heavy. Eli’s eyes lingered. He didn’t mean to stare, but he didn’t look away either. Tommy noticed. Let the silence stretch for a second, his massive penis getting harder by the minute. Then, steady as ever:

“You wanna measure it?”

Eli blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well I’m sure you’ve noticed that I’m totally erect right now. Do you want to keep it even and measure my penis?

Eli hesitated, then nodded, reached out, took the tape slowly.

Tommy didn’t move. “Do a good job, bro. Be precise.”

Eli crouched, pulse in his ears. He unspooled the tape and brought it to the base of Tommy’s cock, just above the thick tangle of pubes. The shaft was warm and flushed, veined, the skin smooth where it thickened toward the middle. He lined the tape carefully from the base to the tip, letting his knuckle brush against the underside to keep it straight. Tommy’s cock twitched slightly in response.

“Nine and a bit,” Eli said quietly.

Tommy’s voice was even. “Be precise.”

Eli leaned in closer, checking the mark again. “Nine and one-eighth.”

Tommy nodded. “Nice. Nice. It’s bigger today.” There was a beat. “He likes you.”

“He?” Eli asked, glancing up.

Tommy looked down, amused. “My penis,” he said calmly. “He likes you. Do you like him?”

Eli blinked, unsure whether to laugh. Tommy didn’t flinch. “I think training together is an intimate thing,” he said. “If I’m gonna make you expose yourself, then I should have to do the same thing.”

He met Eli’s eyes. “Make sense?”

Eli nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

Tommy clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Good. So do you like him?”

Eli looked at Tommy then at his erection, big balls swinging full and low. Eli had never seen anything more exciting in his life.

“Yes, Tommy. Yes, I do like him.”

“You do? You like my penis, Eli?”

“I like your penis, Tommy.”

Tommy smiled, clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Then we’re all good.”

---

They met up four or five times a week now. Sometimes in the park, sometimes at the gym. The workouts were hard. Tommy never let Eli drift. He made him hold tension at the bottom of a rep, forced better breathing, cleaner movement. If Eli lost form, Tommy corrected it with a touch. Eli had never been this aware of how he moved or how much he’d been compensating.

“You’re holding pace longer,” Tommy said one morning, as they ran side by side along the loop trail. “Posture’s better.”

Afterwards, always, they ended up at the house. The bathroom had become part of the ritual. Tommy got the cloth tape from the drawer, and Eli stripped down without comment. It wasn’t a question anymore. Tommy measured everything: chest, arms, waist, quads, calves, hips, height and always, every time, his dick. First soft. Then hard if it happened. Which it always did.

Tommy didn’t make it a big deal. He noted the numbers aloud, the same way he would any other stat. But he never skipped grooming.

“Hold still,” he’d say, running the electric razor along Eli’s pubic line, or his pits, or his butt cheeks, or smoothing on some balm after. “Just touching it up.”

Afterwards, they just stayed naked.  It was part of Tommy’s thing: if your body’s trained then why hide it?

He moved around the house naked the same way he trained: calm, present, totally without self-consciousness. Eli had stopped trying to match that energy. Instead, he’d sit on the couch or drop to the floor in the living room.

They’d talk about programming splits, gym drama, Eli’s job, or Tommy’s random childhood stories. Sometimes Tommy would toss him something to drink or tear open a protein bar and split it wordlessly. Sometimes they’d say nothing at all.

“You’re getting there,” Tommy said one night, after watching Eli polish off a whole shaker bottle without stopping. “Body’s waking up.”

“You think so?”

Tommy nodded. “I can see it.”

---

One day, Eli was pulling his shirt back on, still a little flushed from the workout, about to head home when Tommy glanced over from the kitchen doorway.

“You always wear those?” he asked, nodding toward Eli’s boxer briefs, dark gray, long cut, hugging mid-thigh.

Eli looked down at them. “Yeah. Why?”

Tommy wiped his hands on a dish towel, then shrugged. “They make sense when you’re running. But otherwise, a guy with your build probably doesn’t need that much fabric.”

“I don’t?”

Tommy didn’t elaborate. He just disappeared down the hallway. Eli stood there, still catching his breath, until Tommy returned with a plastic-wrapped five-pack of briefs, bright blue, green, and red, neon-slick against the clear packaging. Smaller cut. Bikini style.

“Try these,” Tommy said, tossing them over. “Leftover from a promo thing. Never wore ’em, too small for me.”

Eli caught them awkwardly, looked at the size. XS. He raised an eyebrow. “These are kinda… tiny.”

Tommy gave a small smirk. “Should fit you good, though.”

Then he turned and walked back toward the blender, not pressing the moment. Eli held the pack for a second longer than he meant to, thumb tracing the edge of the plastic, the colors bright in the morning light. He didn’t know if he’d wear them. But he didn’t hand them back either.

---

The post-workout routine had become automatic: bathroom, measurements, grooming, hydration. Next week, after their workout, Eli stepped out of his shorts and stood near the wall mirror, wearing the red bikini briefs Tommy had handed him.

Tommy looked down at them and gave a small nod. “Good job, bro. The training briefs are working.”

Tommy hooked a thumb into the waistband and tugged it down just far enough to get a clean measurement across Eli’s hips, then lower still.

“Hold still.”

Tommy ran the tape precisely, then, just as casually, pulled the briefs back up into place, adjusting the fit with a quick tug.

“These look real good on you,” Tommy said, stepping back. “You should keep these on when we hang out.”

Eli gave a half-smile, uncertain what to say.

---

Later, they ended up on the couch, same as always. Tommy stretched out fully naked, legs wide, arm draped across the back cushions. This time, Eli sat beside him in the red briefs, legs tucked under, watching something dumb video on YouTube: a guy trying to build a squat rack out of PVC pipe.

Tommy put an arm over the edge of the couch behind Eli.  The scent of his pits hit Eli. Tommy glanced down, half a smile breaking through. “You like training with me?”

Eli blinked, then nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

“C’mere, bro.”

Eli glanced at him, uncertain for half a second. Then he leaned back, settling against Tommy’s chest. He felt the warmth right away, the arm coming around him, the quiet pressure of it across his chest.

But Tommy didn’t stop there. His other hand came to Eli’s hip, and he shifted his legs wider beneath him.

“Up,” he said. Not loud. Not asking. Just part of the next rep.

Eli blinked. “What—”

“Lap,” Tommy said, calm as ever.

He guided Eli up and over without effort, setting him down between his thighs like he’d done it before. Eli’s back rested against his chest. Tommy’s hands adjusted him by the waist, no rush, no hesitation. One leg draped across Tommy’s. The other settled beside it.

And there unmistakable was the shape of Tommy’s penis beneath him.

Eli could feel it through his briefs, the soft weight of it, warm and thick against the underside of his thigh and the curve of his ass. Not pushing. Not deliberate. Just… there. Lying low along one side, partly down Tommy’s leg, the way it always rested.

“You fit just right here,” he murmured.

Eli tried to breathe slow. Tried not to tense. But the cock beneath him stayed present, the curve of it, the sheer mass. It shifted slightly when Tommy shifted, and Eli felt it again: soft but dense, a kind of heat that registered even through fabric.

“Your commitment means a lot to me,” he said. “Just want you to know that.”

Eli didn’t move. Just listened.

“Not just out in the gym,” Tommy went on. “But here too.”

He looked right at Eli. “Just want you to know I see it.”

Eli felt the words settle, like being chosen for something and not having to ask what it was.

“Thank you, Tommy,” he said quietly.

After a long minute, Tommy shifted just slightly, and tousled Eli’s hair.

“Good job, little bro. You wanna be my little bro?”

Eli didn’t say anything at first, but he leaned back even more, his head on Tommy’s shoulder. He could feel Tommy’s arms wrapping around him, pulling him tighter into his lap.

Then Tommy’s voice, low and even:

“You like your training briefs?”

Eli glanced down at the red fabric, snug and smooth. He nodded once.

“Yeah. They’re… kinda nice, actually.”

Tommy gave Eli a small squeeze.

“Knew they’d be right for you.”

Tommy’s hand slowly slipped under the waistband of Eli’s briefs, slow, practiced, palm running flat over the freshly shaved skin beneath. The pads of his fingers moved lightly across the curve of Eli’s pelvis, over the pubic line, tracing along the edge of smoothness with quiet approval.

“Smooth little bros make big bros happy.”

---

Today had been sleds and split squats, heavy carries and time under tension. Eli’s legs ached deep. His briefs clung damp at the hips. He’d already stood still for his measurements, already answered a few short nods when Tommy read the tape out loud.

Now Tommy was on the couch, naked, legs wide, relaxed in that way he only got after a full session. He looked up once, then tapped a thigh.

“C’mere.”

Eli came over without asking questions. He stepped between Tommy’s legs and eased himself down, back to chest. Tommy’s arm came across his chest like it belonged there. His cock rested warm and soft beneath Eli, heavy against the base of him through the red briefs.

Eli closed his eyes for a second and let himself go still. Tommy shifted slightly behind him, adjusted his grip. His hands slid down to Eli’s waist. Then, without a word, he began to bounce him.

It was slow. Small. Just a few inches of lift and drop, controlled by Tommy’s grip and his thighs beneath them. Eli inhaled a little sharper than before, then let it go. The motion stayed steady. Up, down. Up, down. Eli could feel how his own breath started to match it, how the ache in his quads started to loosen, how the soft stretch of his briefs tugged faintly with every movement. Tommy didn’t speak. He just kept bouncing him until Eli’s body settled into the rhythm.

“Good job, Eli,” he said.

After that, the bouncing became part of it. Sometimes it came after stretching. Sometimes right after measuring. Eli didn’t have to be told anymore. Tommy would sit. Eli would climb onto his lap, settle back into his chest, and Tommy would start the slow bouncing, hands around his waist, thighs under his own, the warm weight of Tommy’s cock a steady presence beneath him. After a few sessions, Tommy gave it a name.

“C’mere,” he said one afternoon. “Time for Bouncy Bounce.”

There was something about the rhythm; Eli didn’t have to think during it.

Then one day, Tommy stopped him as he was turning to sit.

“Face me.”

Eli paused for half a second, unsure what to expect. Then he obeyed.

He climbed up, straddling Tommy fully, knees wide against the couch, thighs already burning slightly from the day’s work. The red training briefs stretched tighter over his legs, and when he settled, he felt all of Tommy beneath him, big penis resting heavy and soft along the base of him, tucked between them.

Tommy placed his hands at Eli’s hips again and resumed the bouncing. Up, down. Up, down.

Eli’s hands found Tommy’s shoulders for balance. Tommy’s hands stayed at Eli’s waist. Their eyes met, calm, close.

Eli leaned in and kissed him. His mouth met Tommy’s like it was a next step in the same pattern they’d been building. Tommy didn’t resist. He let it happen, let it stay. When Eli pulled back, Tommy’s eyes held steady.

“Little bro kisses are sweet,” Tommy said.

He didn’t smile when he said it. He didn’t tease. Eli looked at him again, close now, breathing the same air, and leaned in for a second kiss. Slower this time. His mouth pressed against Tommy’s with quiet intent. And Tommy let him. Didn’t move. Didn’t deepen it. Just let Eli kiss him until Eli pulled back half an inch, breath warming the space between them.

For a second, nothing happened. Then Tommy leaned in and kissed him back, his hand coming up to Eli’s back and holding him through it. Their mouths met again, slower now, and stayed. When the kiss finally broke, Tommy kept his forehead close.

“We needed that,” he said.

Then, quiet but clear, Eli said, “Big bro kisses are pretty sweet too.”

Tommy”s hand moved from Eli’s back to the side of his face, guiding him in again. They kissed again, slower than before. This time, Tommy took the lead. His mouth opened just slightly, tongue sliding in, not demanding, just deep. He held Eli there with one hand behind his neck, guiding the rhythm. Then he pulled back just enough to speak, voice low.

“Hold it in your mouth,” Tommy murmured. “Don’t move.”

Eli obeyed. Tommy kissed him again, tongue filling his mouth this time, slow and deliberate. Eli stayed still, lips soft around him, letting Tommy control the depth, the pace, the shape of it.

Tommy kissed him again, deeper this time, tongue sliding into Eli’s mouth in one clean motion. Eli stayed still, letting it happen, mouth open, lips soft, body held steady.

Then Tommy pulled back just slightly, just enough to murmur against Eli’s lips.

“Suck it.”

Eli nodded once, barely a motion then leaned back in and closed his mouth around Tommy’s tongue, lips sealing with intention.

He sucked. Slow. Focused, drawing Tommy in. His tongue moved gently around it, careful not to lead, just to hold.

When they finally broke apart, Tommy didn’t let go. His palm stayed warm at Eli’s side, his other hand steady behind his neck.

Then Tommy glanced downward. Once. Deliberate. Eli followed the look.

Between them, his weight in Tommy’s lap had shifted just enough to expose the shape underneath him. Tommy was fully hard, erect, thick, standing straight up between Eli’s thighs, the tip slick. A single drop of precum glistened there. Tommy didn’t say anything at first. Just let Eli take it in.

Tommy’s gaze lingered between them for a moment longer. Then his hands moved to Eli’s waist, fingers slipping under the waistband of the red briefs. He eased the fabric down, slow and deliberate, revealing Eli's little boner. Eli’s breath hitched.

Tommy’s eyes dropped again, studying the difference between them, big bro penis, little bro cocklet. He didn’t touch. He didn’t tease. He just looked, steady and calm. Then he leaned in and kissed Eli again. Slower. Firmer.

“You’ve got a little cock, Eli.” Tommy stroked Eli’s dick lightly with two fingers, as if to underline it. Eli froze, chest hot. The words landed hard.

Finally, Tommy said, “That’s just what it is. Some guys have big cocks. Some don’t. Yours is little. Nothing wrong with that.”

Eli swallowed. “You really think so?”

Tommy didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. I know so. I’ve seen plenty. You’re on the small side. Fits your frame, though.” He shifted beneath him, the hard weight of his own cock sliding against Eli’s ass. “Mine’s big. Always has been.”

Eli’s face burned hotter. He wanted to move but Tommy’s arm around his waist held him steady.

“Does that bother you?” Tommy asked. His voice was calm, like he was asking about sore muscles.

Eli shook his head quickly, though his throat felt tight. “No. I just—no one’s ever said it like that.”

“That’s because most guys pretend,” Tommy said. “Act like size doesn’t matter. But it does. Difference is real. You’ve got a little cock. I’ve got a big penis. That’s just the truth.”

Eli’s breathing hitched. “And you… you don’t mind?”

Tommy gave a small squeeze at his waist, bouncing him lightly on his lap again. “I don’t mind. I like it. You in training briefs, sitting in my lap, with that little cock. I like it a lot.”

He kept one hand steady at Eli’s hip, the other at the small of his back. They sat like that for a long moment, bodies close, nothing in the way. Eli could feel all of it, the heat, the shape, the difference.

Then Tommy started to bounce him.

“You feel that?” Tommy said quietly.

Eli nodded. Tommy looked down again, calm. His penis thick and upright between Eli’s body and his own. Eli’s was so much smaller, barely brushing against Tommy’s skin.

“I have a big penis,” Tommy said.

Then he nodded toward Eli.

“You have a little cock.”

Eli stayed quiet. Tommy bounced him once, slow and steady.

“Say it.”

Eli blinked. Then, softly: “You have a big penis.”

Tommy’s hands held him still, mid-bounce.

“And?”

Eli glanced down once. Swallowed.

“I have… a little cock.”

Tommy nodded once. Started bouncing him again, slow and even.

“Big penis.”

“Little cock.”

Then Tommy shifted the words.

“Tommy has a big penis.”

Eli caught it, followed.

“Eli has a little cock.”

Again.

“Tommy has a big penis.”

“Eli has a little cock.”

The repetition smoothed out, like breathwork. Like a drill. Tommy’s voice stayed level, the same tone he used for training cues.

“Big penis.”

Eli answered without pause.

“Little cock.”

Bounce.

“Big penis.”

“Little cock.”

Tommy slowly stopped bouncing and pulled Eli into him, wrapping his arms tight. “Good job, little bro. Really good job. I’m proud of you.”

Eli beamed in Tommy’s arms.

---

They were sprawled across Noah’s couch, feet up on the coffee table, a muted cooking show playing on the TV. The plates from takeout were stacked on the floor between them, still half-full. Eli had his head tipped back, eyes on the ceiling. Noah sipped from a can of seltzer, then glanced over.

“So… you saw him last night?”

Eli nodded, eyes on the floor.

Noah waited. “And?”

Eli gave a small shrug. “Same as usual.”

Noah raised an eyebrow. “So… still just the lap thing?”

“Yeah.”

Noah let out a breath, not loud, not mocking, just surprised. “Man. That’s… restraint.”

Eli didn’t say anything.

“I mean,” Noah went on, more curious than judgmental, “you’ve been over there, what, a dozen times now?”

“More.”

“And it’s really still just kissing?”

Eli nodded. “And bouncing. And yeah. Just that.”

Noah looked down, then back at Eli. “You okay with that?”

Eli’s voice was soft. “Yeah. I actually… like it.”

Noah studied him. “Huh.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, then Eli added, “It’s not just teasing or build-up. It’s like… this whole other thing.”

“Like a phase?”

“Like something,” Eli said. “We’re figuring it out together.”

Noah chewed on that. “You ever think he’s just… slow-playing it? Waiting to see how far you’ll go?”

Eli shook his head. “No. He’s not like that. He’s not pushing. It’s more like… he’s training me.”

Noah smirked faintly. “Yeah, you said that before. Still sounds kind of kinky.”

Eli smiled a little. “It is. But it doesn’t feel…bad.”

Noah leaned back on one hand. “Well… you seem calm. Happier, even.”

“I am.”

Noah nodded. “Then keep going, I guess. Just promise me one thing?”

“What?”

“If he ever makes you wear, like, a collar or bark or something—”

Eli laughed. “I’ll text you first.”

“Exactly.”

---

Saturday light came in clean through the bathroom window. Tommy stood near the whiteboard, writing numbers down with one hand and holding the tape with the other.

“Ready?”

Eli nodded.

Tommy started at the chest. The tape pulled snug across Eli’s pecs, then dropped to his waist. He jotted each number as he went. When he measured quads, he crouched without comment, eyes sharp but voice steady.

“Thirty-nine across the chest,” Tommy said. “Quads are up. Still twenty-six on the waist.”

Eli blinked. “Really?”

Tommy gave a small nod. “That’s the frame. Broad up top, tight through the middle. That’s where it starts to show.”

He didn’t say more. Just stepped away and returned a moment later with a folded pair of bright green bikini briefs in one hand, small, clean cut, unmistakably chosen.

“These are yours.”

Eli took them without a word. The red pair came off. The green slid on, higher sides, tighter seat, more definition. Tommy didn’t look away, but he didn’t comment either. Just watched, the same way he always did: attentive, quiet, assured.

Then Tommy stepped to the drawer and came back with long white sport socks, soft cotton, two navy stripes at the top.

“Put these on too.”

Eli sat down and rolled them on, one at a time. They hugged his calves snug, stopping just below the knee. He stood up, facing the mirror. The reflection was clear now: wider shoulders, narrow waist, the bright green briefs cutting high over his hips, the socks firm along his legs.

Tommy stood there, looking at Eli, his large penis erect. One hand scratched his pubes and the other adjusted his balls. Then he stepped up behind Eli, the heat of his erection close. Hands settled at Eli’s waist, thumbs just under the waistband. He didn’t look at the mirror. Just at Eli.

“This is what a little bro looks like,” he said. “You like having a special uniform for when you hang with your big bro?”

Eli blinked, then looked down for a moment.  He looked back up at Tommy. “Yeah,” he said finally, “I kinda do. Mostly I like knowing what you want. And I guess, I, umm…”

“You can tell me anything, little bro,” Tommy said, pulling Eli in tighter, his hard cock pressing into Eli’s asscheeks.

Eli looked over at his shoulder and then said as he turned around to face Tommy, “I like how hard it gets you.”

Tommy kept eye contact with Eli. “Yeah? You like how erect your big bro’s penis gets when you’re in uniform?”

Eli nodded. Tommy gently guided Eli onto the couch, onto his lap, facing him.  “Say it.”

“I like how erect your penis gets when I’m in uniform.”

“You like how erect whose penis gets?”

“My big bro’s big penis.”

“Yeah?” Tommy said, looking at Eli intently.

“My big bro Tommy has a big penis.”

“And what does my little bro Eli have?”

“Your little bro Eli has a little cocklet.”

Tommy reached out and gently held Eli’s little boner and balls in his fingers. “That’s why you’re all smooth, huh?”

“Little bros don’t have pubies.”

“Definitely not Tommy’s little bro. You like my big bush, little bro?”

Eli looked at it. It was really striking, how much of it there was and how it crowned the big penis. “I do, big bro. A lot.”

“You wanna play with it? Brush it with your fingers? Get it all puffy?”

Eli looked at it: at Tommy’s big, wild bush, full and dark and thick, rising above the base of his hard penis like it was meant to crown it. He nodded, slow, eyes flicking up to Tommy’s face again.

“I do, big bro. A lot.”

Tommy’s voice dropped, low and steady. “Then go ahead. You can touch it.”

Eli raised a hand, tentative but willing, and let his fingers brush the edge of Tommy’s pubes. The texture surprised him, coarser than his own, thick and wiry, but clean. His fingertips drifted higher, combing gently through the hair, just like Tommy had told him. With every slow sweep, the bush puffed slightly, fluffed and parted by his careful motions. Tommy’s cock twitched faintly against Eli’s stomach.

“Like that,” Tommy murmured. “Keep fluffing it up.”

Eli did. He took his time, working through the dense crown with quiet focus, feeling how it changed under his touch, how Tommy’s cock responded, how the base of it thickened as the hair got pushed and gathered to the sides. Tommy didn’t move except to breathe deeper.

“Yeah,” he said after a while. “That’s nice. Just like that.”

Eli let his other hand join in, cupping lightly at the base of Tommy’s shaft while his fingers worked through the hair above. It was strange how non-sexual it was in rhythm, even as his own little cock stood hard against Tommy’s stomach.

Tommy looked down at him, eyes calm. “You’re a good little bro, Eli.”

Eli’s fingers paused. “Yeah?”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah. You listen. You learn. You’re careful. That matters.”

He leaned in and kissed Eli again, slower now, deeper, then pulled back just enough to look him in the eye.

Eli’s breath came slow, steady, the air between them thick with heat and chlorine and something harder to name. Tommy’s mouth hovered close again, their breaths mingling before he kissed him once more, deeper this time, unhurried, the kind of kiss that made Eli forget what part of him was supposed to move.

Tommy’s hand slid up from Eli’s thigh to his side, a slow, grounding line of warmth that steadied him. The touch wasn’t commanding; it was deliberate, almost clinical in how it mapped him, how it seemed to say here you are, right here.

Eli’s hands found their way back to Tommy’s chest, tracing the sweat‑slick lines of muscle, the rise and fall of his breathing. When Tommy kissed him again, slower still, Eli leaned into it completely.

Tommy pulled back just far enough for their eyes to meet. “You feel that?” he said quietly.

Eli nodded, lips still parted. “Yeah.”

“That’s what I mean when I talk about awareness,” Tommy said. “You pay attention. You stay present. You don’t rush it. That’s how you train.”

Eli swallowed, still catching his breath. “Feels different when it’s like this.”

Tommy smiled faintly. “Good different?”

Eli nodded again. “Yeah. Good.”

Tommy’s hand moved gently to Eli’s wrist, guiding it without pressure. “Then let’s stay here,” he said. “Take a look.”

Eli let himself be moved, let Tommy guide his hand to the base of his cock. The heat of it was unmistakable, thick and solid, resting full against his lower stomach. Eli didn’t wrap his hand around it right away. Instead, he just looked.

Tommy watched him, voice low and steady. “Take your time. Just look first.”

Eli’s eyes traced the shape: the way the shaft curved slightly left, the ridged veins along the top and sides, the skin darker at the base and smoother toward the head. It was heavy, full, not straining or urgent, just… there.

“You can touch,” Tommy said, calm as ever. “Use both hands if you want.”

Eli did. He brought his other hand up, palms open, and slowly laid them along the length of Tommy’s cock, one at the base, the other midway up. His fingers didn’t meet all the way around. The skin was warm, the kind of warm that pulsed faintly, alive with blood and breath.

Tommy stayed still. “Good. You’re doing good.”

Eli swallowed. His thumb brushed along one of the larger veins, feeling how it shifted slightly with even that small motion.

“Notice anything?” Tommy asked.

Eli blinked. “It’s… thicker than I thought. The skin’s different in different places. Softer near the head.”

Tommy nodded. “Exactly. You don’t have to rush past it. That’s what I want you to learn. Every part of a trained body tells you something. Even here.”

Eli ran his hand slowly down the shaft again, this time more intentionally, watching the way the skin moved under his palm, the way it responded to the pressure.

Tommy exhaled once, not in arousal, but almost like encouragement. “Feel that?”

Eli nodded. “Yeah. It shifts under my hand.”

Eli’s hands lingered. Tommy looked down at him, calm as ever. “You’re doing good,” he said.

Eli nodded, quiet. Tommy’s hand came to rest behind his neck, steady and warm. Eli’s hands stayed wrapped around Tommy’s boner.

Tommy’s voice dropped, even lower. “There’s gonna come a time when I ask you to take more. Not all at once. But soon, and you might feel overwhelmed. If you do, I want you to tell me, okay little bro?”

Eli exhaled slowly, chest softening under Tommy’s words. “Okay,” he said.

Tommy let his fingers trail lightly down Eli’s side. “When we do more… when we get into it … it’s not about doing it right. It’s about staying connected. Letting me guide you through it. That’s how we build.”

Eli looked at him. “I want to learn.”

“You will,” Tommy said. “And I’ll teach you, little bro.”

Tommy shifted back on the couch, gently tugging Eli with him, cradling him again against his chest. He kissed the top of Eli’s head again. “You did real good, little bro.”

Eli let himself lean all the way into it. Arms loose. Body relaxed. He felt the weight of Tommy’s cock in his hand, even harder now, slick from a steady stream of precum pouring from the slit.

Tommy started to bounce him again, slow, rhythmic, grounding. Eli let himself rise and fall, steady in his big bro’s lap, hands tight going up and down on his big bro’s big fat boner. The sound was wet and steady.

Tommy’s hands stayed firm at Eli’s waist, controlling the bounce, not for show, not for pleasure, just for rhythm. Training. A metronome in motion.

Up. Down. Up. Down.

Eli’s thighs burned slightly from the effort of keeping balance, but he didn’t stop. His palms stayed wrapped around Tommy’s cock, slick now from the continuous drip of precum coating the head, smearing down the shaft. Each bounce of his own body shifted the friction of his grip, stroking Tommy in rhythm without having to think about it.

“You’re syncing up,” Tommy said quietly. “That’s what I want.”

Eli’s breathing deepened, matching the tempo. His hands slid, then caught again, wet skin dragging. The shaft was so thick it forced his fingers apart, and every time he reached the head, he could feel the heat radiating stronger.

Tommy looked down, voice calm. “Tighten up that grip. Yeah, that’s it, little bro. You feel the difference?”

Eli nodded. “Yeah.”

Tommy adjusted him with one hand, shifting Eli’s hips slightly forward so his weight stayed low, pressed down harder onto Tommy’s thighs. The pressure made Eli’s little cock rub faintly against Tommy’s stomach, but Tommy didn’t mention it. He kept his focus on the stroke.

“Don’t jack it,” Tommy murmured. “Just stay in tempo. Let your movement do the work.”

Eli nodded again. He wasn’t stroking anymore. He was riding. Bouncing. Letting his grip serve the rhythm. Tommy’s shaft moved through his hands with thick, slick drag.

“You feel the head start to swell?” Tommy asked.

Eli swallowed. “Yeah.”

“That’s blood volume going up. That’s because you’re focused. That’s what this does.”

Tommy’s voice dropped another notch. “Now squeeze a little on the way up. Ease on the way down. Match your thighs to your hands.”

Eli obeyed. The new pattern settled quickly: bounce, squeeze, glide. Bounce, squeeze, glide.

Tommy’s breath hitched once, subtle. Not approval. Just a signal. Eli kept going.

“You’re training my cock now,” Tommy said. “You know that?”

Eli blinked, almost thrown. “I—”

“You are. Every session we do, every time I let you handle it, it matters. My penis bonds with you and you bond with him. It all matters.”

Eli looked up at him, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know that.”

Tommy gave a faint nod. “Most guys don’t. Most guys treat a penis like it’s just for getting off. They don’t learn the rest. But your big bro knows all about penis.”

Eli’s hands slipped slightly again. The cock pulsed. He adjusted without being told.

“You feel all that slickness?” Tommy asked.

“Yeah.”

“That’s how you know my penis likes you.”

Eli’s face flushed. But he didn’t stop.

Tommy’s fingers returned to the back of Eli’s neck. “Good job, little bro. This is our new Bouncy Bounce.”

He bounced him one more time, slower now. The cock twitched again in Eli’s hands, the shaft darker, fatter, the precum dripping in longer, wetter strands.

Tommy looked down again. “Alright. That’s enough for today.”

Eli blinked. “Wait—”

Tommy didn’t raise his voice. “I said that’s enough.”

The motion stopped. Tommy took Eli’s wrists gently, guided his hands off his cock, letting it rest slick and flushed between their stomachs.

“This is training.”

Eli nodded quickly. “I know.”

Tommy leaned in close. “We stop when I say stop. You understand?”

“Yes, big bro.”

Tommy looked at him for a long second. Then nodded.

“You did good.”

They sat there like that, cock leaking against Eli’s stomach, breath slowing. Nothing else needed to happen. Not today.

Tommy’s voice was calm again. “Go hydrate. Then come back and get in uniform. I put a fresh pair in the bathroom.”

Eli stood slowly, thighs tight, briefs damp from precum transfer. He didn’t wipe down. Didn’t ask what came next. Just followed instructions.

---

He returned quietly from the bathroom, wearing a pair of baby blue briefs, even higher cut and tighter, and his white sport socks. His skin was still slightly flushed from the hot water. He stood in front of Tommy, still naked, sitting up in bed, his thick, soft cock resting heavily along his thigh, unfazed.

Tommy looked up and nodded. “Uniform looks good. Those briefs make you look so cute, Eli. Come here.”

Eli stepped forward. Tommy’s eyes moved over him, slow and methodical. He took in the clean line of Eli’s chest first: soft skin still flushed from their play, the faint rise and fall of his breathing. His gaze dropped lower, past Eli’s stomach, to where the blue briefs sat snug at the waist. The cut rode high on the hips, showing the sharp angle of his pelvis and the beginning curve of his inner thigh.

“Turn around,” Tommy said. Eli did.

Tommy’s eyes tracked up and down the back of Eli’s body, catching the shape of Eli’s ass, the brief’s pulled tight over the glutes, exposing a good chunk of cheek at the bottom; Eli’s glutes were bubbly but firm.  The tall white sports socks framed the whole picture, thighs bare, calves bulging under the cotton.

He adjusted his position on the couch, a simple shift of his hips, his thighs spreading a little wider, cock resting thick against his leg. Then he patted his lap once.

“Inspection,” he said.

Eli hesitated a breath. Then he moved.

Tommy watched as Eli climbed up carefully, adjusting his knees on the cushions, the socks sliding against the fabric. When he lowered himself over Tommy’s thighs, chest down, arms tucked under, the motion was slow, almost cautious, like he didn’t totally know how this worked yet, but was ready to find out.

It was the first time Tommy had seen him like this.

Face down. Weight across his lap. Body curved and waiting.

He settled a hand low on Eli’s back, warm, steady, letting him feel the pressure. Then he dragged that same hand down slowly, palm open, following the dip of Eli’s spine to the waistband, then lower. He let his hand rest lightly across both cheeks, fingers splaying just slightly over the stretch of the briefs.

Tommy exhaled through his nose.

“Good,” he said. His voice was calm.

Tommy rested one hand on the small of Eli’s back. “This is the inspection position. You understand?”

“Yes, big bro.”

Tommy nodded and slipped on a latex glove from the drawer beside the couch. A bottle of clear lube, shaving cream and a disposable razor followed. He lowered Eli’s briefs slowly, exposing the full curve of his glutes.

“Glutes look good,” Tommy murmured, fingers gently parting the cheeks. “Even tone. No irritation. No swelling.”

Then he paused. His gloved thumb hovered just above the cleft.

“There’s hair,” he said plainly. “More than last time. Around the rim.”

Tommy set the razor against his thigh, then squirted a small dab of shaving cream onto a cloth and carefully covered the hair on his anus.

“This will be quick.”

He spread Eli again, gently but firmly, and used short, practiced strokes to remove the hair around the anus. Afterward, he patted the area dry and reached for the bottle again.

“Maybe we talk about waxing at some point. Maybe laser. Now I’m going to check internally. One finger, gloved, lubed. Stay relaxed.”

Eli exhaled. “Internally?”

Tommy nodded and then applied a generous amount of lube to his gloved fingertip and brought it into place.

“You’re tight,” he said as the tip met resistance. “It’s okay. That’s common. We’ll work on it.”

“It’s kind of cold,” said Eli.

Tommy nodded again. He didn’t push, not right away. He waited.

“Deep breath in… now exhale.”

Eli let it out slowly, and the pressure eased. The finger slipped in, just to the first knuckle.

“There,” Tommy said. “You’re clenching, but you’re letting it happen.”

His tone was steady, almost detached, like he was monitoring vital signs. “No inflammation. No heat. No tenderness. You’re clear.”

He pressed his free palm flat across Eli’s lower back, grounding him, keeping him still. Letting his body adjust to the presence inside him.

“You’re doing well,” Tommy said, tone even. “We’ll stay here for a bit. Let your body understand it’s okay. Are you good?”

“Yeah, it’s just an awkward feeling.”

“That’s okay, baby bro. It’ll get easier. It’s just inspection.”

After a long moment, Tommy pressed in just a little more, a slow glide to the second knuckle. He watched Eli’s glutes tighten around the intrusion, then soften again.

“There you go,” he murmured. “Still breathing. Good.”

Eli’s shoulders stayed low. His fists were quiet on the towel beneath him.

Tommy stayed exactly where he was, gloved fingertip buried deep, the rest of his hand steady and still. “Your tissue’s responding,” he said. “Starting to recognize the shape.”

He let another beat pass. Then: “I’m going to start moving. Just a little. Let me know if it’s too much.”

He began a slow, shallow in-and-out motion, not fast, not deep, just enough to ease the tension in the ring of muscle. Just enough to make Eli feel it again.

“Feels different with motion,” Tommy said, more to himself than to Eli. “You’re not pushing me out. That’s good.”

Eli made a small sound, not a word, but not discomfort either.

Tommy paused and let him settle, then pressed the rest of the way in until the whole finger was buried.

“Full depth,” he said quietly. “That’s one. You’re holding it.”

His free hand stayed firm across Eli’s lower back, keeping him grounded.

“We’ll do a little more,” he said. “Two fingers, eventually. But not yet. You’re not ready.”

He stayed inside, resting at full depth. His body close. His voice low.

“I want your body to remember this. Not the pressure. Not the stretch. Just the feeling of letting it happen.”

Tommy stayed inside him, finger buried to the base. His other hand rested steady across Eli’s lower back, holding him in place.

“My finger is in your anus, Eli,” he said. “You’ve got me all the way in.”

Eli’s breath shuddered, but he stayed still.

“Your hole’s open now,” Tommy continued. “It’s stretched around my finger.”

He didn’t move. Just let the words land.

“You feel that?”

Eli gave the smallest nod.

“Say it, little bro.”

“Your…your finger is in my…anus.”

“That’s right, Eli. My finger is all the way inside you right now.”

Tommy’s hand shifted slightly, palm grazing over Eli’s lower back. “You’re holding me. Not fighting it. That means we can keep going.”

He looked down at himself, cock flushed and heavy between his legs, full from the weight of Eli across his lap, from the heat of the moment, from the truth of it.

“Put your hand on my erect penis,” he said. “Right now.”

Eli reached back carefully, fingers sliding between Tommy’s thighs. He found it immediately, thick, hot, already leaking.

Tommy groaned once under his breath. “Yeah. Hold it.”

His tone stayed level, but there was heat in it now.

“You’ve got your hand on my big cock,” he said. “While I explore your anus with my finger.”

He flexed it gently inside, testing pressure against the inner walls.

“That’s what’s happening right now. My cock in your hand. My finger in your hole. And you’re taking it.”

He paused.

“You’re doing good, Eli. Really good.”

Tommy gave the first slow pull, just enough to ease out halfway, then pushed back in.

Eli’s breath caught, hips shifting slightly.

Tommy held him steady with one hand across his lower back. “Don’t move.”

He did it again. Slower this time. Out, then in.

“You feel that?” he asked. “That’s me working your anus.”

Eli nodded against the mattress, his hand still around Tommy’s thick cock.

“Good. Stay relaxed.”

Another stroke. A little deeper. The motion smooth, steady, controlled.

“Every time I move, I want your body to stay open around me. No clenching. No running.”

He paused, finger resting at full depth.

“You’ve got my whole finger inside you, Eli.”

He started moving again, the lube making everything slick and easy. The ring of muscle gave way more freely now, the resistance softening with each pass.

“I’m opening you up,” Tommy said, voice even. “One stroke at a time. You’re not tight anymore. You’re stretched, warm, taking it.”

Eli let out a soft sound. Tommy kept going. Shallow thrusts, full insertions. Never rushing. Just repetition.

“Good boy,” he said quietly. “Keep your hand on my penis. Keep breathing. Let me in.”

Tommy kept the motion steady, his finger working slow and deep inside Eli’s stretched hole, rhythm calm and consistent. Eli’s body stayed soft over his lap, breathing shallow, thighs parted, the little green briefs bunched just below his ass.

“You get it yet?” he asked, voice low.

Eli didn’t answer.

Tommy didn’t move his finger, just kept it buried to the base, holding him open. “I’m talking to you, little bro.”

Eli’s voice was small. “I… I don’t know.”

Tommy’s tone didn’t shift. “You’ve got your hand on your big bro’s penis. Your little bro dick’s hard and leaking between your legs. And your anus is open around my finger.”

He gave a slow press in, deep and final.

“That’s what’s happening. You understand?”

Eli nodded. “Yeah.”

Tommy didn’t let it go. “Say it back.”

Eli’s breath stuttered. “I’ve got my hand on your… on your big penis.”

“Say it right.”

Eli corrected himself. “I’ve got my hand on my big bro’s big penis.”

Tommy’s voice stayed level. “And what else?”

“My little bro cock’s hard. I’m leaking.”

“Where’s my finger?”

“You’ve got your finger in my… my anus.”

“Say it again.”

Eli exhaled. “My anus is open. You’re inside me.”

Tommy’s hand stroked lightly over his back. “That’s right, little bro. You’re laid out over your big bro’s lap, getting worked open with his finger while you hold his big penis and leak into your briefs.”

He started moving again, slow thrusts, measured pressure, letting Eli feel every inch.

“Do you get it yet?”

Tommy kept moving, each stroke deliberate, in, pause, out slow. His fingertip glided against the inner walls, slick and steady, the muscle clenching gently around him with each pass.

“You’re my little bro, Eli.”

Eli’s fingers were still curled around the base of Tommy’s cock, like he was afraid to let go.

Tommy looked down at him, voice low. “You feel how big it is in your hand?”

Eli nodded.

“Yeah,” Tommy murmured. “It doesn’t fit inside you yet.”

He pushed in again, slow and deep, letting the full length of his finger settle inside. “But maybe someday, little bro, you can be a really good little bro and take your big bro’s big fat penis in your anus.”

He waited, gave Eli’s hole a second to adjust, then eased out, not all the way, and reached for more lube.

“You ready for two?”

Eli didn’t answer right away.

Tommy gave a little tap to the side of his thigh. “It’s not a trick question.”

Eli’s voice was barely audible. “Yeah.”

Tommy nodded. “You’ll tell me if it’s too much.”

He lubed the second finger slowly, deliberately, then brought it down and rested the tips against the stretched opening. Eli’s hole twitched under the touch.

“Deep breath in,” Tommy said. “Let it out slow.”

Eli exhaled.

Tommy pressed. The second finger slipped in beside the first, slower, tighter, the muscle gripping down, resisting, then giving.

“There you go,” Tommy said, almost under his breath. “That’s two.”

He stayed still for a few seconds, letting Eli adjust, his other hand flat across the small of his back.

“You feel full?”

Eli gave a shaky nod.

“You are. That’s big bro inside you now. Both fingers. Deep.”

Tommy flexed gently, letting the pressure stretch the ring of muscle wider. “And you’re takin’ it.”

Eli made a sound in his throat, overwhelmed, but not pulling away.

Tommy stroked his back. “This is part of training now. Your little cock’s hard, your anus is open, and your big bro’s fingers are buried inside you. That’s just how we work now.”

He started to move, shallow, steady thrusts, double-thick now, opening Eli wider with every pass.

---

A week later, Eli was back in inspection. Tommy pulled his finger out slow, same way he did everything. Controlled. Calm. He wiped his hand with a towel, then pressed the other gently between Eli’s shoulder blades.

“Up,” he said. “Knees.”

Eli rose without hesitation, thighs still trembling slightly from holding position. He moved slow, settling back on his heels. Hands rested on his thighs. Eyes up.

Tommy stood in front of him, relaxed. One hand scratched lightly at his side, the other adjusting the base of his cock, soft, but heavy, flushed, hanging thick between his legs. A faint drop of clear slickness shone at the tip.

He didn’t mention it.

“You ready?”

“Yes, big bro.”

Tommy gave a short nod. “Good. We’re adding something new.”

Eli’s body stilled. Attentive.

“You’ve been consistent,” Tommy said. “You show up. You listen. You put in reps.”

He took a slow step forward, letting the soft head of his cock hover just a few inches from Eli’s face. It twitched slightly. Another drop gathered.

“So now we start teaching respect. Through contact.”

Eli’s breath hitched faintly.

Tommy looked down at him. “Gonna teach you how to kiss it. Calm. Controlled. Just reps.”

He pointed with two fingers. “Start here. Side shaft. Mouth closed. One count. Then back.”

“Yes, big bro.”

“Go.”

Eli leaned forward. Placed the kiss. Firm. Soft. Back.

“Other side.”

Kiss.

Tommy looked down, calm, unreadable. His cock twitched again. A thin thread of precum gathered and hung before dropping to the inside of his thigh.

He still didn’t say anything.

“Now mid-shaft. Three reps.”

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

Eli didn’t rush. Tommy’s skin was warm. The weight of him was heavier now, the shaft a little fuller. Precum dripped slow, one drop at a time. It clung to the curve.

“Good,” Tommy murmured. “Now base. Underside.”

Eli kissed again. The heat of it was different here, lower, thicker, where the weight gathered. A new drop formed at the tip.

Tommy didn’t flinch.

“Crown,” he said next. “Top of the head. Three reps.”

Eli obeyed.

As his lips touched the top of Tommy’s cock, he felt the warmth of the next bead of slick. It touched his mouth on the third rep. He didn’t react. Tommy’s hand rested lightly at the back of his head.

“Nice,” Tommy said quietly. “You’re getting it.”

He stepped back and let his cock rest against his thigh. A string of precum stretched from the tip down, catching slightly on the skin before snapping loose. Still, he didn’t draw attention to it.

“Again. Whole set. No talking.”

Eli nodded and repeated it, sides, shaft, base, tip, clean, deliberate, no hesitation. His lips brushed more slick each time, and by the third sequence, Tommy’s cock had visibly thickened, not hard, but heavy. The precum kept coming, steady and wet.

Tommy finally broke silence.

“You see that?”

Eli looked up. “Yes, big bro.”

“That’s him leaking.”

Tommy scratched at his pubes absently, glancing down. “He likes when you show respect. That’s all it is.”

Eli swallowed. “Yes, big bro.”

Tommy watched him a moment longer, cock hanging heavier now, the slow drip of precum still gathering at the slit. He reached down and gave himself one lazy stroke from base to tip, smearing the slick along the shaft so it shone.

“New drill,” he said. “Verbal respect. You’re gonna say it out loud. Clear. After every single word, you kiss. Mouth closed. Soft. Then the next word. Understand?”

“Yes, big bro.”

Tommy stepped in close again until the thick head hovered right against Eli’s lips. “Phrase is simple. ‘I love big penis.’ Kiss after each word. Two full rounds. Go.”

Eli’s eyes stayed up. “I—”
He leaned in and pressed a clean kiss to the side of the head.
“love—”
Another kiss, this time to the frenulum. A fresh bead of precum smeared across his lower lip.
“big—”
Kiss, firmer, right on the slit. The salty slick coated his mouth.
“penis.”
Final kiss, lingering a half-second longer at the tip before he pulled back.

Tommy gave a single nod. “Again.”

Eli repeated it without pause.
“I—” kiss.
“love—” kiss, slower.
“big—” kiss, tongue just barely tasting the wetness this time.
“penis.”
Kiss. He held it there until Tommy’s cock twitched hard against his mouth and another thick string of precum stretched between them when he pulled away.

Tommy’s breathing had deepened a fraction. His cock was no longer soft, half-hard now, heavy, the head flushed darker and continuously leaking.

“Good. Adding on. Full sentence now: ‘I love my big bro’s big fat penis.’ Same rules. Kiss after every word. Two rounds. Start.”

Eli’s voice stayed steady.
“I—” kiss to the crown.
“love—” kiss lower on the shaft.
“my—” kiss.
“big—” kiss, lips parting just enough to feel the heat.
“bro’s—” kiss, right under the head.
“big—” kiss.
“fat—” kiss, slower, letting the weight of it rest against his mouth.
“penis.”
He sealed his lips over the tip for the final kiss and felt a heavy pulse of precum flood against them.

Tommy’s hand settled lightly on the back of Eli’s head, not pushing, just resting. “One more time. Cleaner. Mean it.”

Eli went again, each word deliberate, each kiss wetter than the last. By the final “penis” his lips were glossy and the entire upper half of Tommy’s cock shone with spit and precum. A thick strand connected Eli’s bottom lip to the slit when he sat back on his heels.

Tommy looked down at him, eyes calm but darker. “Now no more words. Just kiss and drool. Open mouth. Let it run. Coat him. Show him he’s respected.”

“Yes, big bro.”

Eli leaned in and started. Soft open-mouthed kisses along the shaft, tongue flat, letting thick strings of spit stretch and break. He worked the base, the underside, the heavy head, drooling freely until Tommy’s cock was shiny and dripping. Spit ran down the thick vein and over Eli’s chin. He kept going, slow, worshipful, never rushing, kissing, licking lightly, letting saliva pool and spill. Tommy’s cock swelled fully hard under the attention, the head flaring, continuous clear fluid mixing with Eli’s drool and running in rivulets down the shaft.

Minutes passed like that. The only sounds were the wet kisses, Eli’s quiet breathing, and Tommy’s low, controlled exhales. Eli’s face was a mess of spit and precum, lips swollen, chin dripping onto his chest. He never stopped. Kiss after kiss, long wet ones, short soft ones, always returning to the head to suck gently at the leaking slit and let more spit cascade down.

Tommy’s hand finally tightened in Eli’s hair. His thighs flexed.

“Fuck… that’s it. Keep kissing. Right there.”

Eli obeyed, mouth open against the underside of the head, drooling heavily while he pressed soft kisses in a steady rhythm. Tommy’s cock throbbed hard against his lips.

Then it hit.

Tommy’s breath caught once. His cock jerked violently and the first thick rope of cum blasted straight across Eli’s cheek and into his open mouth. Eli’s eyes widened but he didn’t pull back. A second pulse painted his forehead and nose. Tommy kept cumming, long, heavy spurts, more than Eli expected, coating his face in thick white stripes. Cum landed on his lips, dripped off his chin, ran down his neck. Another heavy jet splattered across the bridge of his nose and into his eyelashes. It kept coming until Eli’s entire face was glazed and dripping, cum mixing with the spit already there, sliding in slow white trails down his cheeks and onto his chest.

Eli stayed perfectly still on his knees, surprised by the sheer volume, blinking through the mess as the last few pulses dribbled across his lips and chin. Tommy’s cock twitched one final time, a thick glob hanging from the tip before dropping onto Eli’s tongue.

Tommy looked down at him, chest rising slower now, a rare small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He brushed a thumb through the cum on Eli’s cheek, smearing it lightly.

“Look at that,” he said quietly, proud. He stepped in closer, still half-hard and slick, and laid the heavy, cum-smeared head of his cock against Eli’s cheek. Slow and deliberate, he began to rub, dragging the thick shaft through the fresh load coating Eli’s face. He smeared his own cum across Eli’s forehead, down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, pressing the sticky head into every stripe and letting it mix with the spit still dripping from Eli’s chin.

He worked it methodically. Side to side across both cheeks. Up under Eli’s eyes. Back and forth over his mouth until Eli’s lips were glazed and shiny. The soft weight of his cock left thick white trails wherever it touched, spreading the mess, marking every inch. Tommy’s free hand stayed light on the back of Eli’s head, holding him steady while he painted him.

“All over you,” Tommy murmured, voice low and calm as he rubbed the leaking tip along Eli’s jawline and then back up through the cum on his cheek. “Just from respect. No hands. No sucking. Just you kissing and showing him he matters.”

He pressed the head firmly against Eli’s lips, smearing another thick smear across them, then dragged it slowly up over his nose and forehead again. Cum stretched in sticky strings between Tommy’s cock and Eli’s skin every time he pulled back a fraction before pressing in once more.

He tilted Eli’s chin up so their eyes met through the dripping, freshly rubbed mess.
“You did perfect, little bro. Real proud of you. He came hard because you treated him right.”

Eli’s voice was soft, cum still sliding down his face, now even more thoroughly coated from the rubbing. “Thank you, big bro.”

Tommy gave a slow nod, still gliding his cock lazily across one cum-covered cheek and then the other. “Good boy. Stay just like that a minute. Let it drip. You earned every drop.”

A week later, Tommy finished his inspection in silence. Two fingers, slow, deliberate, working Eli open just enough to feel the give and the heat. He held them there a long moment, watching the way Eli’s back stayed straight, breath controlled, thighs steady on the bed.

Then he eased them out.

Eli stayed exactly as he’d been told: chest down, ass up, knees spread, hands flat. A thin sheen of lube caught the light between his cheeks. He didn’t clench. Didn’t shift. Just waited.

Tommy wiped his fingers on the towel, then rested a calm hand on the small of Eli’s back.

“You’re holding better,” he said. “Less fight. That’s good.”

“Thank you, big bro.”

Tommy’s thumb traced a short line along Eli’s spine. “But you still close up the second I’m out. Habit. Body wants to shut.”

He let the observation hang. Eli listened, completely still.

“We’re past just fingers now,” Tommy continued, voice even. “You need something that stays. Something that teaches you to stay open when I’m not inside you. All day if I want. During chores. During homework. During respect drills.”

He stepped over to the nightstand. The drawer slid open with a quiet scrape.

Tommy reached to the drawer and pulled something out. A small object, bright coral, glossy, unmistakably shaped.

Eli blinked.

Tommy held it in his palm. “You’ve never seen this before,” he said. “This is new.”

He stepped forward, held it lower so Eli could get a better look. It looked almost like a toy. Small. Neon. Unthreatening. But real.

“This is a plug. It goes just inside your anus, to train you to stay open.”

He handed it over. Eli took it carefully. It was light and smooth.

“That’s your plug now,” Tommy said.

Eli nodded slowly. “Yes, big bro.”

“Back to inspection position.”

Eli nodded and climbed into place, body curving over Tommy’s thighs, knees tucked, arms folded under his chest. The plug stayed in his right hand.

Tommy took it gently. Uncapped a small bottle of lube. He applied it methodically, coating the stem, then spreading a bit more across his gloved fingertips.

“You’re already prepped. This is about letting it belong.”

Eli breathed deep. “Okay.”

Tommy’s hand returned to the small of Eli’s back. The other hovered low. He spread Eli gently. His gloved finger circled the rim once, slow, checking, then brought the tip of the plug to center.

“You ready?”

“Yes.”

Tommy pressed.

The first push was smooth. Firm. The head of the plug passed the rim with a quiet stretch. Eli gasped once, then steadied.

“Good,” Tommy murmured. “Breathe. Stay down.”

He didn’t push more right away. Let the widest part settle before easing the rest in. His other hand rubbed Eli’s lower back, keeping him grounded.

“You’re doing perfect.”

Then the base slid in, the flare catching gently. The whole plug seated flush between his cheeks, the bright coral color peeking against his clean skin.

“It’s in.”

Eli exhaled. “Yeah.”

Tommy watched his body, the way it adapted, the way it stilled.

“You holding it?”

Eli nodded. “Yes, big bro.”

Tommy rested one bare hand across Eli’s ass, thumb grazing the plug lightly. He looked down, his cock was now fully hard, heavy and dark, a thick line of precum dribbling steady down the shaft.

“Good job,” Tommy said, voice low. “It looks so good inside you.”

Eli stayed quiet, flushed but steady.

Tommy patted his hip. “You can sit up.”

Eli eased up carefully, legs adjusting to the new presence inside him. The plug shifted slightly, not uncomfortable, just present. He stood, and Tommy watched the way he moved. The way the plug changed his posture, centered his weight.

“You feel that?”

Eli nodded. “Yes, big bro.”

“That’s what training feels like. Inside and out.”

Tommy leaned back, dick still heavy against his thigh, head wet with slick.

“You’re not taking it out ‘til I say so.”

Eli nodded. “Yes, big bro.”

“Uniform stays on. Plug stays in.”

Eli’s cheeks burned, but he stood taller now. He was blue training briefs, plug tucked inside, the base just visible. He looked down at himself. Then up at Tommy.

Tommy’s gaze was calm. Warm. “That’s what my little bro looks like.”

Eli smiled, small but sure. “Thank you, big bro.”

Tommy’s cock hung full and dark between his legs, a steady line of precum dragging down the underside, but he didn’t draw attention to it. He just sat back slightly on the couch, spread his knees, and nodded once.

“Back to showing penis respect.”

Eli blinked, then understood. He nodded. “Yes, big bro.”

“Same pattern. Same reps. Start clean.”

Eli leaned forward.

Kiss.

Side of the shaft. Gentle. Steady.

Kiss.

Other side.

Kiss. Kiss. Kiss.

Midshaft, slow and placed.

Tommy exhaled through his nose. Relaxed. Present. A fresh drop of slick rolled from the tip and caught on Eli’s lip. He didn’t flinch. He just breathed through it.

“Good,” Tommy murmured. “You’re staying locked in.”

Kiss.

Base. Warm, close.

Kiss.

Crown. Barely a brush. Just presence.

Tommy’s hand came to the back of his head, palm wide and calm.

“Again. Keep it slow.”

Tommy nodded once, hand steady at the back of Eli’s neck.

“You’re doing good,” he said, voice quiet but full.

He let Eli finish the last crown kiss, then guided him back just an inch with light pressure.

“New drill,” Tommy said. “Open your mouth.”

Eli parted his lips immediately.

Tommy reached down, cupped his own heavy balls, and lifted them. They were full, warm, drawn up tight from the long session of kisses. He settled the soft, weighty pair right onto Eli’s tongue.

“In. All the way. Hold them there. Don’t suck hard. Just keep them in your mouth. Gentle. Learn to respect my testicles. That’s where all my sperm comes from, little bro.”

Eli obeyed, carefully taking both testicles past his lips. His mouth stretched around the warm, soft weight. He held still, breathing through his nose, cheeks slightly hollowed just enough to keep them secure. Spit already started to gather.

Tommy’s voice stayed calm. “Good. Now your hand. Wrap it around my penis. Slow strokes. Base to tip. Light grip. Match your breathing.”

Eli’s right hand rose. Fingers closed gently around the thick, slick shaft. He began stroking, steady, careful, twisting just a little over the head on every upstroke the way he’d been taught. Precum smeared across his palm and fingers almost immediately.

Tommy watched him, eyes half-lidded, one hand still resting on the back of Eli’s head.

“Keep the balls in. Don’t drop them. Now tell me how much you love them.”

Eli tried.

“I wuv big bawws…” The words came out thick, wet, and badly muffled around the mouthful of testicles. Spit leaked from the corners of his lips and ran down Tommy’s sac.

Tommy’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. “Again. Clear as you can. ‘I love big balls.’”

“I wuv big bawws.” It sounded even sillier the second time, spit bubbling, the words distorted and childish around the full mouth.

“Good boy. Now add the rest. ‘I love big balls and big penis.’”

Eli stroked a little faster without meaning to, cheeks burning, but he tried.

“I wuv big bawws an’ big peenith…”

A thick string of drool spilled out over Tommy’s balls and onto Eli’s stroking fist. The words were almost unintelligible, sloppy and ridiculous.

Tommy exhaled slowly, cock throbbing hard in Eli’s fist. “Keep saying it. Over and over. Don’t stop stroking.”

Eli did. 

“I wuv big bawws an’ big peenith… I wuv big bawws an’ big peenith…” 

Every repetition came out wetter, sloppier, more muffled. Spit soaked Tommy’s balls and dripped steadily onto Eli’s moving hand. The plug shifted inside him every time he leaned forward a fraction. His eyes stayed up, locked on Tommy’s face even as tears of effort pricked at the corners from holding the stretch.

Tommy’s breathing deepened. His cock swelled even thicker, veins standing out under Eli’s slick fingers. The head flared dark and shiny, continuous clear fluid running down over Eli’s knuckles.

“That’s it… keep talking with your mouth full… tell him…”

Eli kept going, voice a messy, spit-soaked mumble. 

“I wuv big bawws an’ big peenith… I wuv—”

Tommy’s hand suddenly tightened in his hair.

“Fuck—hold still—”

His cock pulsed hard once in Eli’s fist. Then he exploded.

Thick ropes of sperm blasted out. The first jet streaked across Eli’s forehead and into his hair. The second and third painted his cheeks and nose in long white stripes. Tommy kept cumming, cock jerking violently in Eli’s stroking hand, pumping more and more. Sperm splattered over Eli’s eyes, his lips, the stretched corners of his mouth still full of balls. It ran down his chin in thick drips, coated his stroking fingers, dripped from his wrist onto the floor. Pulse after pulse, far more than before, until Eli’s entire face was dripping and his hand was gloved in warm, sticky white.

Tommy groaned low, hips twitching, still feeding slow final spurts across Eli’s already soaked cheeks while Eli held his testicles carefully in his mouth and kept his hand gently wrapped around the spurting shaft.

When the last thick drop oozed out and hung from the tip, Tommy stayed like that for a long moment, breathing deep, looking down at the mess he’d made.

He finally spoke, voice rough but proud.

“Let them out. Slow.”

Eli carefully opened his mouth and released Tommy’s balls, strings of spit and sperm connecting his lips to the wet sac. His face was completely covered, dripping from eyelashes, nose, chin, and fingers.

Tommy brushed a thumb through the thick sperm on Eli’s cheek, smearing it.

“Perfect,” he said quietly. “You held them the whole time. Stroked him right. Even talked through it.” He looked at the dripping white mess coating Eli’s face and hand. “Look how much he gave you. Just from that.”

Eli’s voice was soft, sticky. “Thank you, big bro.”

Tommy nodded once, still catching his breath. “Good boy. Stay right there. Let it drip. You earned every drop of that sperm.”

He stayed quiet a moment longer, eyes moving over the white streaks running down Eli’s chin and dripping onto his chest. Then his voice dropped even lower, almost thoughtful.

“But this isn’t really where it belongs,” he said, dragging one sticky finger across Eli’s lower lip. “All this sperm… it should be deeper. Inside you. Filling you up where that plug is training you to stay open for it. That’s its real home.”

Eli’s breath caught, but he only whispered, “Yes, big bro.”

Tommy’s gaze drifted downward, and stopped.

A dark, spreading wet spot soaked the front of Eli’s little blue training briefs. The thin fabric clung to the small outline of his cock, shiny and obvious. A fresh bead of cum had already pushed through the material and sat glistening at the tip of the bulge.

Tommy’s expression softened with clear pride.

“Well look at that,” he murmured. He reached down and pressed two fingers lightly against the wet patch, feeling the heat and the fresh mess underneath. “You came in your briefs. Didn’t even touch yourself.”

Eli’s face burned hotter under the drying sperm. “I… I couldn’t help it, big bro.”

Tommy gave the soaked spot a slow, approving rub, feeling how much Eli had released. “You came just from showing respect. Mouth full of my balls. Hand on my penis. Telling me how much you love them even when you could barely talk.” He shook his head once, impressed. “That’s perfect. That’s exactly what I want from you.”

He pulled his fingers away, shiny now with Eli’s cum as well, and rested his clean hand on top of Eli’s head.

“Proud of you, little bro. Real proud. You took my sperm all over your face and still made a mess of your own just from worshipping him the right way.”

Tommy glanced at the plug still seated snug inside Eli, then back to the wet spot. 

“Next time we’ll put my sperm where it actually belongs. For now… leave those briefs on. I want you to feel that wet spot while you walk around with your plug in. Reminder of what good respect does to both of us.”

Eli nodded, voice small and full. “Yes, big bro. Thank you.”

Tommy tapped his thigh.

“Lap.”

Eli moved carefully, climbing up and back into the place that had become familiar. Tommy adjusted him with both hands, setting him right where he belonged: plug in, briefs snug around his thighs, bare except for that bright coral base, cock nestled under him, leaking against his skin.

Tommy wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close.

“Tomorrow we do our first penetration test.”

---

Three days later the inspection light was already on when Eli stepped into the room. Same blue training briefs, still faintly stained from before. The coral plug sat snug inside him, exactly where Tommy had ordered it to stay all week.

Tommy was waiting, naked, cock already heavy and half-filled. He pointed at the bed without a word.

Eli stripped the briefs down, folded them, and climbed into position, chest to mattress, knees wide, ass up, plug base bright between his cheeks. Hands flat. Breathing steady.

Tommy stepped in close behind him. One warm palm settled on the small of Eli’s back.

“Plug out.”

He gripped the base and pulled slow. The widest part stretched Eli open for a long second, then slipped free with a soft, wet sound. Eli exhaled but stayed perfectly still. His hole fluttered once, shiny with lube, and stayed slightly parted.

Tommy set the plug aside and slicked up his erection with long, thick strokes until the head gleamed.

“Anal penetration test,” he said calmly. “I need to know how far you can take me today. No forcing. We stop at three inches or when I say. Ready?”

“Yes, big bro.”

Tommy lined the fat head up against Eli’s rim. He pressed forward until the blunt crown kissed Eli’s stretched hole. The difference in size was stark. Eli gasped, the pressure sharp, shocking.

Relax,” Tommy said, voice low. “You’ve got room.” He pushed gently, letting the head wedge into the loosened ring. The stretch burned, Eli’s body clenching around him.

Eli whimpered, fists knotting in the sheets. “Tommy—”

“I’ve got you.” Tommy rubbed his back, patient, letting the head hold its place. “Breathe. This is how it starts. This is training.”

The blunt head popped inside. Eli’s breath hitched, fingers curling against the sheets, but he pushed back just enough to accept it. Tommy fed him more, slow, steady, watching every inch disappear.

One inch. 

Two. 

Two and a half. 

Three.

He stopped exactly there, buried a third of the way, the thick mid-shaft stretching Eli wide. Heat clamped around him. Tommy held still for a full ten seconds, feeling the flutter and squeeze. Eli forced himself to breathe, shaky, chest tight. The burn didn’t ease, but it stopped feeling impossible. His body trembled, but the weight of Tommy’s hand on his back steadied him.

“That’s three. Good stretch. You’re opening.”

Then he pulled back just as slowly. The ridge of the head dragged along the rim and finally slipped free with a distinct, wet *pop*. Eli’s hole stayed open for a moment in a perfect pink circle before slowly starting to close.

Tommy gave the rim an approving rub with his thumb. “Better than last week. Still tight, but it took me. Progress.”

Eli collapsed forward, shivering, cock twitching small in the fabric. His chest buzzed with fear, relief, and something hotter. He had felt it. Tommy had been inside him, even if just the head.

Tommy walked around to the side of the bed. His penis stood fully hard now, darker, a thick bead of precum already at the slit from the brief time inside Eli’s ass.

“Up. Knees on the floor. Mouth open.”

Eli moved immediately, sliding off the bed and dropping to his knees in front of Tommy. He tilted his head back, lips parting wide, eyes up.

Tommy rested the heavy, slick head on Eli’s tongue.

“This time we go deeper. All the way. You’re going to take every inch down your throat. No hands. Just mouth and throat. Breathe when I let you. Ready?”

“Yes, big bro.”

Tommy pushed forward.

The head slid over Eli’s tongue and hit the back of his mouth. Eli gagged once, small, controlled, then consciously softened and pushed his tongue flat. Tommy kept steady pressure. The thick crown popped past the resistance and sank into Eli’s throat in one long, smooth glide.

Eli’s eyes watered instantly. His throat bulged visibly around the shaft. Tommy didn’t stop until his balls rested warm against Eli’s chin and Eli’s nose was buried in the dark hair at the base. Every inch was inside.

“Holy shit,” Tommy breathed, genuine surprise breaking through his usual calm. He held himself there, buried to the root, feeling Eli’s throat flutter and squeeze around him in tight, wet waves. “You took it. All of it. First try.”

He stayed buried for several long seconds, then began to move, short, deep strokes, pulling back only a couple inches before sliding straight back down Eli’s throat. Wet gluck sounds filled the room. Spit ran freely down Eli’s chin and onto his chest. Eli kept his hands on his own thighs, exactly as trained, eyes streaming but locked upward, throat open and accepting.

Tommy’s breathing grew heavier. His hands cradled Eli’s head, not forcing, just holding him in place while he used the tight, wet heat.

“That’s it… keep it open… fuck, look at you.”

He thrust deeper one last time, bottoming out completely, and stayed there.

“Swallow when I cum. Don’t waste any.”

Eli managed a tiny nod as best he could with his throat stuffed full.

Tommy’s cock swelled. He groaned low and started unloading straight down Eli’s throat. Thick, heavy pulses of sperm pumped directly into him, rope after rope, bypassing his tongue entirely and flooding straight into his stomach. Eli swallowed convulsively around the spurting shaft, throat working, taking every drop without pulling off. Some escaped the corners of his stretched lips and ran down his chin in white streaks, but most went straight down.

Tommy kept himself buried until the last weak spurts finished, then slowly pulled back. His cock left Eli’s throat with a wet sound and slapped lightly against his cheek, still half-hard and shiny. A final thick string of sperm connected the tip to Eli’s lower lip before breaking.

Eli gasped, coughed once, then swallowed the rest cleanly. His lips were swollen, chin dripping, eyes wet, but he stayed on his knees, mouth still softly open.

Tommy stared down at him, chest rising, a rare wide grin breaking across his face.

“You didn’t fight it. Didn’t panic. Just opened up and took the whole thing like it belonged there.” He shook his head, almost laughing under his breath, clearly excited. “You’re a natural. A born cocksucker. Throat just… accepted me. Like you were made for it.”

He brushed the tears and spit from Eli’s cheek with his thumb, proud and openly pleased.

“That’s a real gift, little bro. We’re going to use that. A lot.” He glanced back at Eli’s still-loose hole, then down at the spent cock that had just finished draining down his throat. “Ass is coming along. But that throat? That’s already perfect.”

Eli’s voice was rough, used. “Thank you, big bro.”

Tommy cupped his chin, tilting his face up so their eyes met.

“Good boy. Born cocksucker.” He said it again like he was tasting the words, still excited by the discovery. “Go clean up, keep the plug out for tonight. Tomorrow we test how long you can keep me in your throat. Understood?”

“Yes, big bro.”

Tommy gave his cheek one final affectionate pat, still smiling.

“Proud of you. Real proud.”

---

To get in touch with the author, send them an email.

---