Plain Breifs Are The Right Underwear For A Fag Right?

ABDL Punishment Experience:

These pictures were taken after being punishment by suppository. My daddy inserted 1 glycerin suppository into my butt then diapered me up in the usual M4. We then got ready and headed off on a shopping trip. Considering the place we were going was about a 20 minute car drive, the suppository had already started to work by the time we got there. About 10 minutes into shopping, I started getting abdominal cramps and the urge to mess my diaper was getting stronger. My daddy loves using this method of punishment because he enjoys watching my face as I try to beat the cramps and urge to go. After about 20 minutes of shopping the cramps got too much and I filled my diaper. The problem with suppositories is that they make you mess a lot so my diaper was extremely full. It was difficult not to waddle around with such a full diaper which was embarrassing as i’m already paranoid that people will notice my diaper already, let alone when it’s full! For about 45 minutes me and my daddy continued to shop where he’d instruct me to grab items from the lower shelves which required me to bend down therefore squishing the contents of the diaper around which was really unpleasant. Although the worse was yet to come…

After we’d finished grocery we packed the groceries into the car and started the 20 minute drive home which required me to sit in the messy diaper which was gross and the worse part about the punishment. I kept trying to sit in a comfortable position but it was impossible with such a full diaper. When we got home, I packed the shopping away and only once that was done could I get a change out of this very messy diaper.

- JackABDL

When your friend on the opposing soccer team wins the game and knows you have a weakness for his feet, of course he’s going to rub his victory in your face with his them. Naturally showing you who the better alpha player is. Making you kiss the bottom of his cleats, removing them from his feet, and ordering you to give him a foot massage. Him rubbing his smelly soccer socks all over your face for a bit before telling you to remove them. Him sitting back as you sniff his warm, hot bare soles, kissing the bottoms of them in respect.  Eventually massaging the bottoms with your tongue against his soft pads and in between his toes. He sits back and relaxes proclaiming his victory over you, finally ordering you on the floor beneath him as he rests his feet on top of you. One pair of toes playing with your nose and tongue as the other plays with your hardon under your nylon shorts, not letting up until you can’t hold back any longer. 

Jock'd

(All characters are 18+)

Cameron Hayes was a high school senior with two things that defined him: his love for biology and his passion for nerdy hobbies. He’d always been the type of kid who spent his afternoons reading biology textbooks, obsessing over cellular processes, and analyzing ecosystems. At 18, he was already planning to study biology at a prestigious university, and his life revolved around his love for science. But that was before one fateful night.

It all started when Cameron sat down to finish his biology homework, which was supposed to be a simple review of basic human physiology. As usual, he’d spent hours studying the material the day before, and now it was just a matter of getting the homework done before bed. His room, decorated with posters of scientific breakthroughs and his collection of rare fossils, felt like his sanctuary.

On his desk lay his open notebook, the textbook, and his phone, all with the soft hum of a lamp glowing beside him. He breezed through the first few questions—simple stuff. His mind, sharp as ever, was in its element. But then came the last question. It looked innocent enough:

"What's one form of exercise?"

Cameron didn't hesitate. He wrote down the first thing that came to mind: "Sports."

It was supposed to be a harmless answer. After all, sports were a form of exercise, right?

But the moment he finished writing, something strange happened. His head buzzed, his vision blurred, and an icy chill ran down his spine. He blinked hard, thinking maybe he was just overtired, but something was different. He felt... strange. His body seemed to tingle, like every cell was reconfiguring. He swore he heard faint laughter echoing in the air, distant, but unmistakably mocking.

Before he could even process it, his room began to warp. The walls seemed to contract, the posters of atoms and molecules turning into athletic ones, with images of football players, basketball courts, and weightlifters replacing his beloved scientific displays. A strange heat spread through his body, like he was suddenly in the middle of a workout.

His body itself was changing. His arms grew thicker, more muscular, his once slender frame becoming broader and stronger. His clothes seemed to shrink as his muscles swelled, his jeans tightening around his quads and his shirt clinging to his newly developed pecs. His hair, once a soft brown that barely fell past his ears, now grew short and spiky, and his face changed too—more defined, sharper, with a hint of arrogance.

He stumbled in front of his mirror, his heart racing in confusion. The boy looking back at him wasn’t Cameron Hayes. The reflection was of someone else—tall, strong, and undeniably attractive. His face had lost its nerdy softness, replaced by a chiseled jawline and a confident smirk that Cameron had never worn before. And most bewildering of all: the name that he now saw written on the mirror was no longer "Cameron."

It was "Kyle."

A surge of memories flooded his mind—new ones that didn’t belong to him. He remembered his high school’s football team, the parties, the beer, the girls that surrounded him, and the constant urge to be the center of attention. His brain, once filled with complex scientific concepts, now held only simple things like winning games, lifting weights, and picking up chicks. He felt... dumb.

Cameron—no, Kyle—gazed in horror at his transformation. The old him, the geeky, intelligent Cameron, felt like a distant memory, lost in the haze of his new identity. His brain just didn’t care about science or biology anymore. What mattered now was sports, looking good, and impressing people.

As he stood there, confused yet strangely satisfied by his new reflection, his phone buzzed. It was a message from one of the jocks, no doubt someone who’d gotten a laugh out of this transformation. He read it:

"Bro, you look SO ready for the football game tomorrow. Don’t worry, we’ll show you how to throw a perfect spiral."

The words didn’t even faze him. Kyle just grinned, his mind only focused on the idea of tomorrow’s game. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d cared about homework. Hell, he didn’t even want to know anything about biology anymore. All he wanted was to hang out with his jock friends, hit the gym, and be the life of the party.

As he grabbed a basketball from his new collection of sporty gear, Kyle felt a surge of energy course through him. His muscles flexed, his chest puffed out proudly, and his confidence was sky-high.

He didn’t need to worry about anything anymore—no homework, no classes, no biology notes. His new life was all about being the king of the school, playing sports, and dating hot girls. And he loved it.

When Kyle walked into school the next day, every head turned. His former friends—quiet, bookish kids—now seemed like distant strangers. They watched in awe and confusion as Kyle swaggered down the hallway, laughing with his fellow jocks and getting high-fives from everyone he passed. He didn’t even remember his old friends' names, nor did he care. They weren’t part of his new world.

The old Cameron was gone, replaced by Kyle the jock, and that was just fine with him. There was no turning back now.

By the time Kyle walked through the halls of his high school the next day, he felt completely at home in his new skin. The sensation of power, of confidence, was intoxicating. Every step he took, he felt more sure of himself, more right in this new role. The people he passed seemed to admire him, their eyes following him as he swaggered down the hallway.

As he approached his first class, he bumped into Madison, the most popular girl in school. With her long blonde hair, perfect smile, and reputation for dating only the top athletes, Madison was everything Cameron had once admired from a distance. Now, she was smiling at him, and her eyes had a sparkle that made Kyle feel like he was on top of the world.

"Hey, Kyle," Madison said, her voice low and flirtatious. "I saw you at the gym yesterday. You’re looking even bigger than last week."

Kyle grinned, puffing out his chest a little. "Yeah, just trying to stay ahead of the game, you know? Got to keep the muscles strong if I want to keep winning."

Madison giggled, her hand brushing his arm as if she was already claiming him. "I like a guy who works hard," she said, clearly impressed by his new look—and more so by his jock swagger.

Kyle’s new brain buzzed with excitement, and he leaned in a little, his voice oozing confidence as he responded, "Well, I don’t just work hard, babe, I dominate."

It felt so natural. Too natural.

Madison laughed again, this time a little more flirtatiously, and Kyle felt the old Cameron—deep down, in the quiet corners of his mind—shudder. But he didn’t care. He was Kyle now.

The bell rang, and as they made their way to class, Madison slid her arm through his, leaning in close to him as they walked. Kyle smiled smugly, enjoying the attention, enjoying the way people looked at them with envy.

Later that afternoon, Kyle met up with his jock buddies in the cafeteria, his tray piled high with a ridiculous amount of food. They were already at their usual table, laughing and tossing around their footballs. Kyle was one of the guys now, and it felt like he was finally where he belonged.

"Yo, Kyle!" Tom, the quarterback, shouted when Kyle walked up, slapping him on the back. "Madison was totally checking you out, man. You’ve got her hooked. She was practically drooling over you."

Kyle chuckled, running a hand through his freshly spiked hair. "Yeah, she’s been eyeing me for a while. What can I say? I’m irresistible."

His friends all laughed in agreement, nodding enthusiastically.

"Dude, you’ve got everything," another guy, Mike, added. "The muscles, the looks, the girls. Seriously, it’s like you were born to be a jock."

Kyle threw his head back, laughing, and for a moment, he actually felt like he was on top of the world. "Hell yeah, man. That’s because I don’t waste time on stupid stuff. I’ve got priorities, you know?"

The guys nodded in agreement, each of them trying to one-up each other with stories of parties, girls, and who’d bench-pressed the most at the gym.

Kyle’s new personality had already become a perfect fit for this crowd. He found himself throwing out one-liners about how much he hated studying, mocking anyone who wasn’t in sports, and bragging about how he could easily pick up a girl just by showing off his abs.

The old Cameron—the one who loved discussing the complexities of plant biology and how to identify different species of insects—seemed like a memory from a distant life. Now, he was the guy cracking jokes about how much homework he’d skipped or how much he could drink without puking.

And as the conversation shifted to tonight’s football game, Kyle grinned even wider. This was it. The peak of high school glory.

"After we crush these guys on the field, we’re gonna hit up Joey’s party," Kyle said with a smirk. "You know, get some drinks, talk to some babes. Maybe even let them take a selfie with me."

The guys laughed and cheered, high-fiving each other. They didn’t even seem to care that the game wasn’t for a few hours. They were all already living for the after-party, and that was enough.

And then, as if on cue, Madison showed up, leaning in from behind and slipping her arm around his waist. "Hey, Kyle," she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Ready for tonight? You can show me how many push-ups you can do with me on top of you."

The table erupted in hoots and laughs, and Kyle felt an unfamiliar sense of pride flood him. Madison was his. She was smiling at him, wanting him, and all of his jock friends were jealous.

"Yeah," Kyle replied coolly, "I think tonight’s gonna be a good night."

And just like that, he realized: he didn’t care anymore. The old Cameron, the one who loved biology and was obsessed with books, was a distant, pointless memory. What mattered now was sports, muscles, parties, and making everyone around him know that he was the king of this school.

As Madison kissed him on the cheek, her fingers tracing his abs, Kyle couldn’t help but smirk. This was the life. And there was no going back. Not that he wanted to.

Freshmen are always assigned random roommates when they come into college. Your roommate was a definite straight masculine jock. He figured out pretty soon that you're a fag. But instead of kicking you out of the room, he decided to take advantage of the situation. So he had you doing his laundry, writing his papers and doing his homework, giving him pocket money every once in awhile, cleaning the room when he told you to, and when he came home drunk and hadn't hooked up, he made you blow him. Sometimes, like this, when you walked into the room he'd be gaming or on his phone or computer and he'd make you get down and he'd use your face as his footstool. He thought it was funny. He didn't change his socks often, and that even made the room smell like his sweaty socked feet all the time. He'd rest them heavy on your face and rub them in it until your face was all chafed, and he'd say how do you like smelling a real man faggot? And he'd laugh. You knew there was no way out of that room unless you went and complained at the housing office. You knew you were stuck there for at least this year until you could pick a different roommate next year. You were so humiliated and you were tired of doing all his work and all his errands that took up too much of your time and took you away from your studies. But you hated to admit it, it did give you a hard-on. Right around now is the time when roommates get to pick if they're going to stay together or go and find another roommate in a different room. He told you that you didn't even have to go, that he was going to take care of it. And he said that you were going to be his roommate next year and nothing was going to change and there was nothing you were going to do about it or he'd beat the shit out of you. For the first time ever you said to him, yes Sir. It was going to be a really long and tough four years but, inside you knew it would be worth it. "Sniff my stinking socks faggot" you heard him say as his sweaty suck feet rest on your face as he was gaming. It brought you back to the present. This is what you had become, a straight jocks slave and sock sniffer. Enjoy college homo.

All but, 44,35,24

57 Ways to Humiliate a Sub Faggot

Humiliation is an important part of every faggot’s training. When a Man humiliates a faggot, He’s teaching him humility (a faggot must remain humble and not allow his ego to get in the way of his ability to serve and obey superior Men), respect (a faggot must learn to show appreciation and esteem to superior Men) and obedience (a faggot must learn to cede all control to superior Men). Plus, it’s just plain fun to embarrass or shame a faggot sometimes — and faggots exist to amuse as much as they do to serve.

Unfortunately, faggots have very little shame. Therefore, it can sometimes be difficult to imagine new ways to humiliate them. With that in mind, i’ve created a the following list of 57 ways for Men to humiliate Their faggots. Go forth, Men, and have fun playing with your subs!

Make him wear a butt plug and send him to the gym to workout — ensuring that he changes and showers in the locker room with the butt plug still in.

Cum on his face or in his hair, then send him out to run errands for You; make it clear that he’ll be severely punished if he returns and You discover that he’s wiped the cum off.

Call or text him at will and order him to piss his pants and send You a picture of it. If You do it when You know he’s out in public — at a bar, perhaps, or on the train during their evening commute home from work — even better.

Serve him his dinner in a dog bowl and make him eat it — sans utensils — kneeling like an animal on the floor next to You while You sit and eat Your dinner at the table like the Man You are.

Make him serve as a piece of furniture — a footrest, perhaps, or a coffee table on which people can set their drinks — during Your next party.

Make him address You as “Sir” in public. He should already be doing it in private, but addressing You that way in public will take Your power dynamic to a whole new level. To kick it up yet another notch, make him call You “Master.”

Outfit him with an ashtray mouth gag and station him on Your patio for smokers to use during Your next get-together.

Spontaneously order him to jerk off to completion in front of You or others in a random or inopportune time and/or place. Then, make him eat his load.

Forbid him from using the restroom for the day and make him wear a diaper, instead. Let him know you’ll be inspecting the diaper later, so he’d better make use of it.

Make him use the bathroom — piss and/or shit, Your choice — in front of You or others.

Perform an unannounced strip search and/or cavity check in an unexpected time or place — out at a bar, for instance, or in the parking lot when You’re out running errands.

Piss or cum into his food; make him eat it while You watch.

Forbid him to walk in front of You; faggots have to crawl on all fours.

Lock him in a cage naked during Your next party and let Your guests ogle at him like a zoo animal.

Dress him in slutty clothes and send him out in public to run errands for You.

Make him give himself an enema while You watch.

Make him use the urinal in a public mensroom with his pants around his ankles; or, if he has to shit, make him do so in a stall with the door wide open. Alternatively, or in addition, require that he always keep the door wide open when he’s using the bathroom at home.

Make him wear a leash and collar in Your presence. Or, even better, out in public.

Forbid him from making eye contact with You.

Handcuff him in public.

Make him kneel in a public restroom with the word “toilet” written on his forehead.

Lock his cock in a chastity device.

Lock his cock in a chastity device, then make him change at the gym, the swimming pool, the beach, etc., with the cock cage on.

Shave his head.

Shave all his body hair.

Scold him like he’s a little boy.

Reprimand him in public when he does something bad.

Spank him in public.

Write “faggot” on his face or body with suntan lotion, then take him sunbathing and let the sun “brand” him.

Make him wear a T-shirt out in public that says “i’m a faggot,” or “slave,” or “pussyboy,” or “cumdump.”

Put him in a timeout, standing naked in the corner facing the wall for a period of time.

Spit in his face — bonus if it’s a loogie — and make him keep it there to dry. Forbid him from wiping it off.

Take him to the bathhouse with messages like “breed me” or “i drink piss” or “cocksucker” written all over his body in permanent marker.

Next time he’s eating Your ass, rip a fart in his face.

Next time You take a dump, take Your finger — or even Your turd itself — and wipe a streak of shit on his upper lip. Demand that he wear Your shit mustache there all day.

Make him suck a dildo in a public place — in the car on the highway during rush hour, for example — so others can see.

Only allow him to use the bathroom outside, like a dog.

Make him eat things out of Your ass.

Gag him with Your cock until he pukes, then make him lick up his vomit.

Make him sleep on the floor next to your bed, instead of in the bed.

Slap him. Hard.

Make him lick your shoes or boots — on command, in public.

Pee next to him at the urinal when You’re out and about; turn and face him so that You piss on him instead of in the urinal. Laugh, and make him walk around with Your piss all over him.

Make him wipe Your ass for You. Either with toilet paper, with his hand or with his tongue. All three are extremely humiliating.

Make him verbally recite a list of five, 10, 20 — whatever — things he loves and admires about You.

Cut or a rip a hole in the seat of his pants and send him out wearing them without underwear on underneath.

Give him an enema and then take him on a walk around the neighborhood with it still in. Make sure he’s wearing light-colored pants or shorts. Heheheh.

Make him flash his hole to strangers in the car on the highway, at a rest stop, or another location of Your choosing.

Whenever You need to use the toilet — at home or in public — escort him in with You and make him lick it clean for You so you have a pristine place to relieve Yourself.

Clip a clothes pin to his tongue and make him say “i am a faggot” 10 times until he’s drooling all over himself.

After you fuck him, hose him off naked in the yard like a dirty animal.

Make him approach a stranger and “confess” something dirty and embarrassing. Like, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and i like to sniff Men’s asses.” Or, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and my cunt is filled with cum right now.” Or, “Hello, i’m a faggot, and i drink piss.”

Make him make animal noises for You on command: “Bark like a dog!” Or, “Meow like a cat!” Or, “Show me what sound a pig makes!”

Make him clean his cunt every time he shits. Pre-mix a cleaning solution for him to use — Your piss, perhaps, mixed with some dish soap — and store it in a spray bottle labeled “fag bath” or “cunt cleaner.” Make him display this cleaner next to the toilet in his home, where any guests are sure to see it.

Take him into a photobooth and make him pose for pictures with Your cock in his mouth, then walk away and make him leave the pictures for the next patron to find — not knowing who will find them or what they’ll do with them.

Make him approach a stranger at a bar, in a bathroom or at a sex club and beg for their cock, piss or cum.

Make him dust Your home using a feather duster stuck up his ass.

Things changed fast under the Trump MAGA administration. All gay equal rights bills on the federal, state and local levels were rescinded overnight. Straight Men were encouraged to bully and harass faggots though government public service announcements on television. They even went so far as to suggest that Straight Men using faggots as slave labor, or any other type of slavery, would be treated with a "turned head" by the government. So there you were, in this guy's apartment having your face used as his footstool for his sweaty smelly socked feet, worn through several workouts. You were just buying a coffee at Starbucks when he came up to you and grabbed your arm and said come with me faggot. You knew what was now happening all over the country to faggots like you and you knew you had no recourse if he beat you up. You thought he probably could kill you and no one would do anything. So you ended up at his apartment, cleaning it at his command from top to bottom, then having your face used as his footstool for his stinking dirty workout socked feet. You just laid there quietly with their stink and heavy weight on your face, hoping that nothing worse would happen to you as the hours went by.

Please come control me with those soxks make my face your foot rest amd my mouth your washing machine

Nike gym socks

Ageplay IS ok

The first point i’d like to make is: Daddys/caregivers/mummys and their little boys/girls are NOT sick and twisted perverts driven by deep seated incestuous or paedophilic desires.

Littles are simply adult women and men with a childlike personality and who appreciate an emotionally mature partner to protect, comfort and love them. Littles in a DD/lg , DD/lb , MD/lb , MD/lg , C/l relationship are not interested in incest!

DD / MD and caregivers are Dominants who simply assume a much more nurturing and caring role than Dominants in other types of D/s relationships. Little girls and little boys are submissive women and men who have a naturally childlike personality that is especially dominant in them when they are around a Daddy Dom, mummy domme, caregiver, who makes them feel safe and cherished.

Its OK to feel these feelings!

as long as all party’s are of legal age, consenting, and safe, whether the relationship is sexual or non sexual, its ok to want to live this lifestyle!

Found this vid at some point, and it inspired the below short story, i hope you enjoy. if this is your vid and you want me to remove it (or credit you), please let me know.

——————–

I sat with my friends at the table in their home, we planned going out to a party in the evening together, hiving a coffee and talking. As so many times we talked about bondage, the fun we have with different guys in different situations. i liked everything lockable, it is more definite, harder if at all possible to get out, while they enjoyed anything that restrains, one of them especially does enjoy mummification with duct tape.

i mentioned that tape has its charm, but is just too easy to break, it may take effort, but one always finds a way to rip it nevertheless. they did not agree, done well, done right, using proper duct tape and not cheap packing tape, they insisted it can be just as inescapable. since i refused to agree however, they dared me to give it a try.

we still had a few hours before going to the party and they agreed that it would not be a full mummification with layers, but just tape to gag me, tie my arms and legs, and then i could proof them wrong. no way i skip a dare, regardless of what it will end up with (big flaw of myself), so of course i agreed to it.

Keep reading