Encore – Chapter Four

Hey guys — this chapter just naturally ended up on the shorter and tamer side. I'm going to try and slip in another Encore chapter in the next few days to be fair to y'all.

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I stared at the message on my phone.

OBEDIENT JOCK

The animation kept looping — a cartoon version of me with a big muscles and a slutty jockstrap. I sat there staring.  The last challenge had given me a massive ass.  How far would this one go?

Obedient. Jock.

I rolled the words around in my head. I'm not a jock, not by a long shot.  Sure, I go to the gym, but that's about it.  And 'obedient'… the word made my skin prickle.

Flame's transformation went through my  minds eye — the grad student had turned into a brick wall of muscle onstage, grinning while the host explained his cock had been caged. I’d laughed at the idea because it was on TV.  TV is safe.

But off-screen?

Through the wall, the rhythm in Josh’s room slowed and went quiet. A soft laugh. Another. The bed creaked and then two sets of feet hit the floor. I locked my phone on instinct, like I’d been caught doing something wrong.

The door opened. Jayden came out first in sweatpants, skin still flushed. Josh followed in a pair of short shorts, hair wrecked, his crop tank soaked in sweat. He was glowing.

“Hey, bud,” Josh said, spotting the phone in my hand. "You got the good news?"

"So… Obedient Jock?”

Jayden’s mouth tipped into a lazy grin. “It'll be cute on you.”

“I didn’t pick it.”

“I know. That’s on me," Josh lifted both hands in surrender.  "I'm like… your mentor, so I get to make some choices for you, and… it felt right. Like — team fit. Liam's a muscle boy, Jayden's an alpha, I'm already like… a himbo," he giggled. “Figured we needed some jock energy, and besides… you're all about structure dude.  You'll love submission.”

My brain snagged on the word. Submission. The cage.

“Does this mean… like… gear?” I asked, trying to keep my voice from cracking. “From the show?”

Jayden landed on the couch next to me, his shoulder pressing up against mine. “Gear’s a vibe, not a rule,” he said “You can always say no.”

“Yeah. Totally," Josh nodded too fast.  "Consent is hot. Also mandatory.”

"No way," I said, motioning at my giant ass. "I didn’t sign up for this."

Jayden cocked his head, grin going a little devilish.

"Are you sure? You accepted the terms and conditions, didn’t you?"

"I didn’t even read them," I snorted.  "Nobody does."

"And that,” Jayden said, looking smug, “was your choice. Maybe the last choice you’ll ever make."

My cock stirred at the idea before my brain could veto it.

"Anyway, we knew this would be a big step, so we got you a little gift," Jayden said, jumping off the couch and ducking back into Josh’s room. He re‑emerged with a package wrapped glittery paper.  He tossed it to me and I heard something rattle inside.

I just stared.

"Open it," Jayden said.

I didn’t move.

"You know you want to…" His smile was soft and teasing.  The guy was charming, I had to give him that.  And the order he'd given… it hung in the air like unresolved tension.

I tore at the packaging and felt a flood of relief.  It felt like scratching an itch you've been trying to ignore.

"Doesn’t that feel better?" Jayden teased. "Doing what you’re told?"

I shot him a look and finished peeling the paper. A glossy box slid out — the CB‑6000.

A clear plastic cock cage.  It didn't look quite as scary as the metal ones Mark had googled, but still…

"I’m not wearing this," I said, holding it like it might bite. "No fuckin’ way."

"C’mon," Jayden sing‑songed. "You know you want to."

"No way," I said again, tension already building in my mind. The box creaked in my grip.

Josh shifted closer, eyes bright. "You’re so close, dude. C’mon, bro… it feels so good to say yes."

"Uh‑uh." Another shake of my throbbing head.

"Well, maybe Mark will be ready for his present," Jayden sighed theatrically. "Where is Mark anyway?"

"He left," I said. "Freaked out when he saw one of the guys on the show wearing… something like this." I held up my 'gift'.

"Too bad," Jayden said, producing another glittery package. "We got him a gift too… you should take it to him."

"Yeah," Josh grinned, already lifting his phone. "Liam says he’s still up. You know their place, right? It’s only a few blocks."

"He doesn’t want it," I protested, trying to ignore the pressure from my mind. "He’s done with the show."

"I tried that too," Josh chuckled.  "Didn’t take."

"We could do it ourselves, but…" Jayden pushed the second box into my hands. "I'm ordering you to do it."

"Please…" Josh whined, bouncing on his toes like a kid at a concert.

"You know you want to," Jayden said again, almost gentle.

"Fine," I snapped. I stood, grabbed my backpack from the hook, and felt that same stupid wave of relief roll through me. "I’ll take your stupid box."

I shoved Mark’s gift inside. Then I hesitated, glared at Jayden, and stuffed the CB‑6000 in there too.

"But no way I’m wearing this shit," I said.

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I knocked on Mark’s door and counted to twenty.  I knocked again, louder this time.

The door swung open. Mark stood there in sweats with a beer. When he saw me, his face dropped.

“What?” he asked. “You gonna try to force me into that Encore shit again? That was just… temporary insanity, or whatever. I’m done.”

“Yeah,” I said, hands up. “Don’t worry, I’m— I think I’m with you.”

“Really?” He cracked a grin. “You snapped to your senses?”

“Kind of.” I scratched my neck. “The app said… like… that Josh got to choose my style for me. It wants me to be an obedient jock and… I’m not doing that.” I tugged the zipper on my backpack and pulled out the clamshell box. “Look, they even bought me one of those cage things.”

Mark actually laughed.

“Dude. That’s so funny.” He took the box and turned it in his hands. “And they thought you’d just… put it on?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I shrugged. “They're totally brainwashed."

“I gotta admit,” he said, reaching for his phone. “I got a notification too.” He shoved the screen at me.

YOUR MENTOR HAS PICKED YOUR ARCHETYPE! — FLIRTY HIMBO

Below it, a cartoon version of Mark rotated — it was musclebound with high‑tops, a pink thong, and a white mesh tank. He could make a mirror blush.

“Look at this shit,” he laughed, wheezing. “It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”

He tapped the screen and the cartoon winked.

“Anyway, bro— welcome back from the cult.” He lifted his beer in a mock toast. “Just wish we could get Liam back.”

He angled his chin over his shoulder. Liam was on the couch in a wrestling singlet, doing slow bicep curls. His phone tripod was set up and he was filming. He exhaled on each lift like he’d practiced the sound.

“Last set,” Liam called without looking away from his reps. He smiled at his own reflection and squeezed another curl.

“See? Gone.” Mark grimaced. He handed the CB‑6000 back and leaned on the doorframe.  I slid it back into my backpack.

Liam set the dumbbells down with exaggerated care and flexed for the lens.

“So,” Mark said, lower. “Obedient jock, huh?”

“Don’t.” I held up a hand. “I’m not doing it.”

“Good,” he said, but there wasn’t much victory in it. “Because I’m not doing this.” He waved his phone at the pink thong cartoon. “No way.”

“Bro, is that Ryan?” Liam called, jumping up from the couch and jogging over in the singlet. “Hey, bro.” He laughed, a little dopey. “You bring the thing for Mark?”

“Huh?” Mark frowned.

“Oh—yeah,” I said, fishing in my bag. “I guess Josh and Jayden bought you something too.”

“I helped too!” Liam muscled between us, proud as heck. “We all pitched in!”

“This oughta be good,” Mark snorted, taking the glitter‑wrapped box I pulled out. He tore the paper fast.

The box inside was long and thin. He cracked it open and blinked. Half a dozen thongs in half a dozen colours.

“What the fuck,” he laughed, glancing at Liam. “I’m not wearing this shit.”

“C’mon,” Liam teased, plucking a red one and dangling it in front of Mark’s face. “You know you wanna.”

Mark snatched the thong mid‑dangle. The second his fingers curled around it, something shifted in his face; his brows knit like he was confused.  Like there was a word on the tip of his tongue.

“He’s gonna look totally good in that, right bro?” Liam said, eyes sliding to me.

Heat climbed my neck. The tension pressed up under my ribs — I knew what he wanted from me.

“Yeah,” I heard myself say, and relief flooded in like cool air. “It’d look great on you buddy.”

Mark’s eyes jumped to mine — betrayal mixed with fear — and then back to the strip of fabric. He couldn’t stop staring. “You think?” he asked, voice softer.

“C’mon,” Liam urged, close now. “Just try it on. Big tough guy like you… you can handle it, right?”

He flicked a glance at me. I felt the hook of it.

“Yeah, Mark,” I said. “At least try it on.” The relief came again, clean and easy.

Mark stumbled back into the apartment, like he'd had a few too many. He set his beer on the coffee table with care.  Liam trailed after him like a lost puppy.

I stepped inside and closed the door.

“It’s… pretty,” Mark said, staring at the scrap of fabric like it was a jewel.

"Yeah,” Liam agreed softly. “It is.”

Mark glanced toward the window — it was dark outside so his reflection stared back.

“I’m so pretty,” he giggled at himself.

“Yeah,” Liam said, grinning. “You are.”

Mark shoved his sweats down his legs, then kicked them aside. He stood in a T‑shirt and plain white briefs. “I can’t believe I’m doing this…” he stage‑whispered. “It’s so naughty!”

“It sure is,” Liam said, delighted.

Mark hooked a thumb under his waistband — and paused.

“I should try them, right?” he asked me.

The tension rose in my chest, begging for an answer.

"Yeah,” I said, hating that I needed the relief. “You should try them.”

He shoved the briefs down and kicked them away too.  His cock was half-hard and getting harder.

Then he turned a fraction away, as if looking for privacy, and slid the thong up over his thighs. When the back settled between his ass cheeks, he arched without meaning to, a quiet gasp escaping his lips. He adjusted the front pouch over his cock, breath catching.

He was facing away from me, staring at himself in the window.  His thick glutes flexed — left, then right — like he was discovering his body for the first time.

“Oh my god,” he murmured. He tugged off his T‑shirt and stood there in just the thong, staring with wide eyes at his reflection. “Check me out.”

He started slow, rolling his shoulders until his traps stood proud, popping his pecs one at a time, spreading his lats into a wide V. He angled his torso to catch the light, breathed in to watch his ribs rise, breathed out to watch the lines sharpen.

His glutes clenched again — left, right, together — until the strap disappeared completely between them. Mark traced a finger along the edge of his obliques like he was admiring a status.

“Holy…” he whispered, almost reverent. Quarter turn. Front double‑biceps. Side chest. A careful vacuum. His quads flickering as he bounced on the balls of his feet, the pouch over his cock bobbing as he set each pose. He flirted with his own reflection, eyes glossy with surprise and pride, before he finally spun back toward us.

“Like what you see?” he giggled at Liam, raising his arms into a double bicep pose.

“Yeah, bro,” Liam said, mirroring his flex with a grin.

“Too bad, bro,” Mark chuckled, still admiring himself. “I’m not gay.”

“You will be,” Liam smirked, playful and sure. “Soon.”

“No way,” Mark laughed, stepping in until his chest bumped lightly against Liam’s. “Like — no beef on gay dudes or whatever, but I’m all about that pussy.”

“Sure. Whatever,” Liam said. “Just like you were all about briefs.”

Mark snorted and brushed him off with a wave. “Whatever, dude. These are FIRE on me.” He turned to the window again, struck a quick most‑muscular, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Thanks for the present.” His voice went sing‑song, faux‑contrite. “I’m sorry I didn’t wanna wear ’em.”

Liam cut his eyes to me, grin widening. “What about you, Ryan? I think you should try yours on… just to see how it feels.”

The tension of not doing what the room wanted climbed up under my ribs again.

“No way, man,” I said, taking a step back. I glanced at Mark—grinning in a thong like he’d been born in it. “That’s not for me.”

“C’mon, bro,” Mark laughed. “So what, turns out I look good slutty — big deal. You should try it.”

The pressure spiked. I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.

“Just once!” Mark called after me.

I pulled the door shut hard enough to rattle the frame.

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The walk back felt longer than a few blocks. The tension came with me —  padding along beside my shadow, matching my pace. I didn’t want to go upstairs, but where else was I going?

The backpack thumped against my spine like a metronome.  I tried to distract myself by scrolling Instagram.

The #encore tag was everywhere.  Thousands and thousands of photos and reels—neon shorts and mesh crops, speedos in bathroom mirrors, crossbody bags with crop tanks, glittered pecs, wrong‑answer quizzes stitched to chest pops.  I saw a guy in a red thong that made me think of Mark and guilt hit my chest.

I locked the screen and kept walking.

Josh and Jayden were curled together on the couch, half‑watching some action movie with the sound low. Jayden’s arm was around Josh’s shoulders; Josh’s bare calf was thrown over Jayden’s thigh. Neon shorts, nothing else. Of course.

“Hey, dude,” Josh said, pausing the movie. “Mark texted — said you kinda freaked out or whatever. You okay?”

I headed for my room, then stopped halfway down the hall and turned back. “I didn’t freak out,” I growled. “Or maybe… look, I’ve been feeling weird ever since you pulled that stupid stunt with the app.”

“Weird?” Josh asked, all innocent vowels.

“Yeah. Like… every time someone wants me to do something, I feel —” I glanced toward the door. “Like anxious, or whatever. And then I do the thing and boom, I get this rush.”

“Yeah, bro,” Jayden chuckled. “Josh picked Obedient Jock. Of course you’re gonna want to do what you’re told. That’s just normal.” He tipped his chin at my bag. “C’mon… try on your cage. You’ll feel better.”

The pressure ticked up behind my ribs.

“No,” I said. Louder: “No way. I brought Mark that dumb box — because you told me to — and now he’s prancing around his apartment in a stupid thong, acting like some kind of airhead.”

“Yeah,” Jayden said, like I was the weird one. “He’s a flirty himbo now. Of course he’s gonna wear slutty clothes and act like a space cadet. That’s the archetype, bro.”

“Yeah,” Josh added easily, patting his own neon waistband. “Like — I’m a flirty himbo too. Look how I dress. You gotta follow your style… Just try on your cage, buddy. Trust me.”

“Be a good boy and try on your cage,” Jayden said, softer this time.

The tension spiked hard enough to make my teeth hurt.

“Fuck off,” I said, and walked away. I slammed my bedroom door and tossed the backpack onto the bed. My 'gift' tumbled out and stared at me.

I flung it into the closet. It thumped into the dark and stayed there.

I tried to think about anything else: Star Trek reruns, my job, my dating life… but my mind kept circling back to that damn box in the closet.  Be a good boy, Jayden said.

My phone said it was almost eleven. I stripped, killed the light, and climbed into bed.

I felt wired and hollow at once. The pressure under my ribs wasn’t going away.  I wanted to obey and hated wanting it.

I couldn’t sleep. An hour dragged by. Out in the front room the movie clicked off; low voices; the soft hush of the door — Jayden heading home. Another hour. The apartment settled into that deep, refrigerator‑hum quiet, but something was wrong. The pressure didn’t fade. It threaded tighter.

I tossed. Turned. Tried to think about something else and failed. My head kept replaying Mark’s face when his fingers closed on the thong — how he just… melted. And then how he looked after.  Stupid and happy, just like Josh and Liam and a thousand guys on Instagram.

Not gonna do it, I told myself. No way am I wearing my cage.

The words rang weird in the dark. My cage. My… cage. Technically true — it was a gift they’d shoved into my hands — but thinking the words made something tilt.

Across the room, the closet called to me. I pulled the sheet up over my head, like that could muffle it.

My cage.

I sat up in the dark and let my feet find the floor. A chill went right through me.

My cage.

I already knew what I was going to do. I crossed to the closet, felt for the box, and brought it back to the bed. Plastic peeled away.  Cardboard rasped under my thumbnail.  The lid gave. Tissue rustled. Parts spilled over my blanket.

It was complicated, but I knew exactly what to do.  It’s my cage, after all.

My hands moved with habit: the smooth plastic ring, looped into place behind my balls, the connector that bridged it with its plastic poles, the other section that slotted on with a practiced click. The locking pin. The spacer. Each piece found home with ease. The lock slid into place and there was a small, decisive click.

A tidal wave of relief broke over me.  I actually whimpered.

“That’s a good boy,” I whispered to myself.

My head hit the pillow and the dark took me.

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I woke to an aching cock.  It was trying to rise and couldn't.  The plastic of my cage was holding fast.

It was like instinct.  I slid to the floor, planted my palms, and started pushups. Ten… twenty… thirty. Breath in, lower, breath out, press. By forty, the ache was gone and my cock was soft again.  Thank fuck.

I pushed to my knees and stood. In the mirror tacked to the wall, my chest and arms were pumped from the exercise — nothing crazy, but a nice way to start my day. Below, the cage looked ridiculous hanging off my dick.

Whatever, I thought.  It’s my cage.

I shrugged, grabbed yesterdays sweats, and went into the living room.

Josh and Jayden were in the kitchen, moving easy around each other like they’d been up for hours. Josh glanced down, then up, grin blooming.

“Hey, bro. Or should I say… jockboy?”

I followed his eyes and realized the bulge was unmistakable in sweats.  The hard plastic made it look like I was walking around with a massive semi.  I actually blushed.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Josh asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said to the countertop. The two words gave me a sharp, clean rush.

Jayden didn’t miss a beat. “Keys,” he said, palm out, like asking for the remote.

My body moved before my mouth could argue. I went to my room, opened the nightstand, and came back with the tiny pair of keys from the kit. Jayden slid them into his pocket and gave me a smirk.

“I’ll keep those safe for you.”

“So what’s your plan today?” Josh asked, pouring me a coffee.

“Uh… I guess go to work.”

“You should text Mark,” Josh said. “After all, you’re a couple of Encore boys now… and Encore boys hang out together, don’t they?”

“Yes, sir,” I answered automatically. Another little rush. “I’ll do that.”

“Do it now,” Josh said.

“Yes, sir.” I pulled out my phone and thumbed up a new message

>Hey bro. Busy after work?

Three gray bubbles popped up right away.

>Lets hit thegym! And like… Encore??? If ur into it

I grinned and felt relief wash over me.

>Yes sir!