And I think he will be playing with it a lot!!
Five Years with a Spanking Cellmate
The Whacky (and Sexy) World of Funky Monster (Part 2 of 2)
The Haunted House
The second set of PhotoShop art by Funky Monster
Funky posts regularly to his pages at Deviant Art (CLICK HERE)
and to X/Twitter : (CLICK HERE)
Painting the Canvas Red
Skinny Dipping Goes wrong
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More unlucky lads: Art by OTKLad (Part 2 of 2)
The second set AI generated images by the creative artist OTK Lad
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More unlucky lads: Art by OTKLad (Part 1 of 2)
Enjoy the first of two new updates of AI Spanking fantasy art by the prolific and talented artist OTK lad. (Part 2 will be posted tomorrow)
you can also follow his Twitter account, where he regularly uploads new work by CLICKING HERE
OTK lad works in collaboration with Strictop (@spank_gay on Twitter/X) who runs the Popular Gay Spank Art website
Brody’s Embarrassing Secret
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Brody’s Embarrassing Secret
Brody could hear the anger in Coach Binder’s voice as he spoke. “Brace yourself, young man, are about to discover that spankings, hurt far more after a hot shower!” He paused, “And that’s just fine with me as that is exactly what you deserve, after what you did!”
Brody did not respond, this situation was embarrassing enough without admitting, in front of the team, that his Dad still spanked him … often. And that he knew exactly how painful a spanking was on a warm, wet, just showered bottom! Especially with a hairbrush.
He guessed that was why Coach had ordered him to take a hot shower just now.
For once, he wished he hasn’t been so arrogant and obnoxious, then maybe the other players would keep his spanking a secret between them, and maybe even forgive him for getting the team relegated. However, because it was him, they would relish spreading the news, and he knew the whole town would know before sunset.
Of course, his Dad would find out, if he didn’t hear it in town, the Coach would surely let him know, he would consider it his duty after all. That would guarantee, Brody would get a second dose when he got home.
A further wave of gloom hit him, as he saw, Wade McAllister taking out his cell phone, with its 4K camera. He, and his bare butt, were about to become reluctant film stars!! The embarrassment was unbearable, and would be for weeks!
Coach Binder looked down and Brody’s smooth, pert and well-rounded bare bottom, the prettiest tush on the team, and struggled to suppress a grin, he was going to enjoy the next five minutes .. maybe, six. Brody was his most deserving young athlete, and the coach was happy to give him exactly what he deserved. The satisfying knowledge that the young man would receive a further paternal spanking, later that day, well before the sting of this one had faded, was a desert to savour at his leisure. Just a shame he wouldn’t get to watch.
He raised the hairbrush high above his head….
That Thing is Juicy – By Kinky Callum
That Thing is Juicy
A story and illustration by Kinky Callum
Disclaimer: all characters are 18+ fictional ai generated adult males in consensual roleplay scenarios, this story contains spanking and some
Mild sexual content.
Every time I open TikTok, I tell myself I won’t do it again—I won’t check Tyler’s profile, but I always do. It’s like I’m drawn to it, like I don’t have any control over my own thumbs as they scroll through my feed, inevitably landing on one of his latest thirst traps. The guy is everywhere, and he knows it.
Tyler’s the campus TikTok star, the golden boy that all the girls want with that wavy blond hair, chiselled jaw, and a tall lean shapely body that could have been carved from marble. Everyone knows him, and everyone either loves him or wants to be him. Sure he’s immature , obnoxious, cocky, everything that should make him unbearable. But somehow, all of that just pulls me in deeper. He’s such a stereotypical cute straight boy..
The way he struts around, knowing everyone’s watching, it drives me crazy in ways I can barely admit to myself.
Today, it’s that viral song. *Good googly moogly, that thang is juicy.* And there he is, walking away from the camera in slow motion, his muscular little bubble butt swishing with every step in those tight-fitting gym shorts hiked way up. I can’t look away. His legs are super long, muscular, the kind of legs that make you wonder if he’s real or if he’s just stepped out of some gay porn fantasy.
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A Sore Bottom For Travis
A Sore Bottom For Travis
(A Sore Bottom For Travis, written by StricTop and Illustrated by Bruce, was first published elsewhere in September 2011)
“Muh-ther-FUK-ker!”
It was his standard response to any annoying situation. And it seemed to Travis that more than his share of situations were annoying lately, if not downright frustrating. Not being the brightest bulb on the tree, Travis’ many brilliant ideas often had a way of just not working out.
“Muh-ther-FUK-ker!” He whined to no one in particular.
For Travis, ‘motherfucker’ referred to all the nameless, faceless people and circumstances that conspired to keep him from getting what he wanted—easy money, free drugs, and plenty of sex.
“Fukfukfukfukfuk!!” He crumpled the envelope he was holding and threw it angrily at the blank TV.
Tiffany, Travis’ latest in a long line of girlfriends, stuck her head in from the kitchen. She had one of those flawless faces that are irretrievable after the age of 28 and that crowd every nightspot and modelling agency from Encino to East L.A.
“What is it, Travis, honey? What are you yelling about?” She flipped her perfect, shiny blonde hair with surgical precision and blinked at him from wide-set, almond-shaped eyes. She wiggled over and settled in beside him on the sofa.
“Honey, don‘t get so upset.” She stroked his head and cooed soothingly. “Don‘t waste all that energy on unimportant little things.” She clearly had no idea what was actually bothering him. “You‘re going to need all the energy you got for the game next week…and for me…” She adopted what she thought was her sexiest pout and ran her hand across the front of his chest.
Travis White had picked her up the previous weekend at one of the hotter clubs in town and she had been staying with him ever since—that is, staying at the million-dollar condo in Westwood that belonged to his uncle, Charlie White. But she didn‘t know that. Travis had told her it was his place and his car. He had also told her that he was on the starting lineup of the Los Angeles Dodgers. The bar was about to close. She was drunk. He was flashing around a lot of cash. And neither of them thought past the end of Travis’ dick.
They went home that night and had amazing sex. What each lacked in IQ points, they more than made up for in good looks and sexual enthusiasm. She wanted to believe she had hooked up with a big baseball star—and he intended to let her.
The deal was clinched when he showed up the next afternoon with a giant bottle of her favorite perfume. She had seen it in the store and knew exactly what it cost. Unconcerned that large-bottle-size rarely predicted quality, they each beamed with their own inner pride—she, pleased at how easy it was to get him to buy her the most expensive thing on the counter; he gloating that the ridiculously-priced bottle was a knock-off he had purchased for five bucks on the street.
The giant bottle gleamed obscenely on the coffee table while Travis’ thoughts drifted to the note crumpled on the floor.
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