The following is an anonymous user submission, being posted today in honor of Coach Josh’s birthday. Feel free to write and send your own story in honor of it as well, with other gifts also welcome 🙂

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I’m not sure how I got there, but the sudden smell of funnel cakes and popcorn snapped me out of my daze.  Instantly I became aware of random carnival noises and crowd chatter.  I instinctively tightened my glutes, stiffened my arms, spread my lats, inflated my pecs, tightened my abs and clenched my jaw.  I don’t know why, I just did – as the sea of carnival goers passed by nonchalantly… except for the few admirers who stole a gawk or two.

Two years earlier I had committed to stepping up my fitness regimen.  I had reached one bitch of a plateau and couldn’t get past it.  I changed up my nutrition, tweaked my workouts, hired a personal trainer, more cardio, less cardio, drop sets, HIIT, carb-cycling, intermittent fasting, split routines, been there, done that.  As a last resort, I purchased some hypnosis MP3s online hoping they might provide an extra edge that could propel me past this progress slump.  It was a long-shot I was willing to take.  Plus, I figured I could slap together a shitload of these “motivational” scripts and listen to them on a continuous loop throughout the night while I slept.  Multitasking!  Couldn’t hurt, right?

That was two years ago.  Two years of mind-fuck—every night.  Oh, I was a willing participant, and boy did it suck me in from the start.  My pumps when through the roof, my “perfect” nutrition was now spot on, my body fat decreased, my shirts were getting WAY tighter (in all the right place), my ass developed an awesome bubble shape that even made ME horny, and – as a happy side effect – my dick was hard quite often.  I was constantly horny – and it made me workout even harder.

Aside from the physical changes that got me through that plateau, I became comfortable showing off my new bod.  I’d always been a bit of a muscle jock, and was always fairly comfortable in my own skin.  No, I wasn’t “that guy” at the gym with the towel around his neck parading his schlong as he discussed sports, weather, or church bingo.  But I was comfortable.

Was.

Here I was in the center of a local county fair on a hot summer day, wearing obscenely tight shorts, dark shades, and a pair of leather pumas.  No shirt, no socks, and of course, no underwear.  Everything on display.  And even though I wore those damn shorts, that prominent bubble still stood out ahead of everything else.

I had no idea why I was there.  But there was a vague notion in the back of my head that I just needed to be there.  I suddenly realized my exaggerated swagger as I was walking and chuckled to myself.  God, how I hated dudes that did that exaggerated lat spread and upper body sway – with their chests puffed and arms out to the side!  I used to laugh at these no-neck monsters at my gym who couldn’t balance their checkbook after paying their monthly dues. And here I was, their spokesman – flaunting it all at a public venue.  The faux humiliation I was experiencing began to make me hard.

“You must be Dave…”

“Yes sir.  You must be Coach Steve.”  I spoke it without thinking.

Again, I was snapped out of my daydream and politely lead by the arm to the rear of one of the gaming tents.  It was a private area with dark canvas covering the sides of the back portion of the tent.  I followed willingly, but not sure why I was so compliant.  It just seemed okay.

“So, how are you enjoying your life as a muscle jock?” Coach Steve queried, as we entered the tent.

We both realized it was a rhetorical question that didn’t warrant an answer — the hard dick in my drawers was a pretty clear indicator.  I was insanely horny.  I was always insanely horny.  I was certain that Coach Steve included certain “release inhibitors” shall we say in the hypnosis files I purchased, but I couldn’t quite recall what they were.  I knew I was very horny.  And I suddenly knew I hadn’t unloaded in 6 months…

WAIT?!  SIX MONTHS?!!!  Did I just realize that?

Coach Steve just smiled as if he were reading the mind that he so deftly pre-programmed two years early – and every night since then.  His words had strengthened his power over me.  Not only my ability to remain chaste while busting through my workout plateau, but my ability to not even realize it… until just this moment!  And there was no way I could change it.  I craved my hypno files.  Listening to them every night was part of my bedtime ritual.  Like a heroin addict.  I needed it – despite the insane horniness.  I needed my coach’s voice and approval.

“So, Dave, it’s been six months since our last meeting.  First of all, I’m glad to see you in person again!  Glad you could make it all the way here.  You are looking quite swole and buff!”

I hit a double biceps pose without even thinking.  Coach Steve smiled.  He loved adding those seemingly innocuous post hypnotic suggestions just for fun.

“So, now that you’re here, I’m going to temporarily remove your invisible ‘chastity cage’ and allow you to empty your balls.  You’ve made excellent progress and you deserve a short reprieve.”

I stared into space, confused and unable to move or speak.  But once again, flexing all of my muscles as if standing at attention for Coach Steve.  Tears began falling down my cheeks.  The thought of unloading after six months of denial suddenly washed over me.  I was overcome with emotion, but was still unable to move or speak — though my dick was an angry red, and was throbbing.

Coach Steve then explained that my chastity reprieve would be “handled” by the wonderful and generous donations of the carnival goers.  Though I did not knowingly sign up for the “dumb jock” versions of his hypnosis, I was at a loss.  He further explained that he was the “carney” for a water jet game at the carnival.  In fact, it was the front half of the tent we were currently in.  Coach Steve donated the profits to local charities.  But the “back room” design was his own doing.  The whole elborate setup was used to partially feed his own sexual urges, test his post hypnotic suggestions, and enjoy the rush of controlling bodybuilders and muscle jocks completely.  He enjoyed seeing the fruits of his labor… and mine were right there for his viewing pleasure.

With no ceremony or fanfare, Coach Steve had me shed my shorts and shoes – I was standing in the back portion of the tent wearing only an earing and a nipple bar – neither of which I remembered ever getting.  Nor do I remember positioning myself in Coach Steve’s back room contraption.  When I finally realized what was happening, I found myself pressed face first tightly against a wooden back wall.  My arms, ankles, thighs, and waist were locked against the wall and I was again unable to move.  I could tell my cock was fully erect, but it and my swollen balls were on the other side of this glory hole wall.  From the front of the tent, carnival goers only saw a second wall with a bullseye target shaped like a star.  The sensitive underside of my fully erect penis was behind the center of the star.  The holes on the two lower points were directly aligned with my swollen balls.  My cock was the center “target” of the water jet game.  Coach Steve had devised this painful reward for the last six months of hard work.  This was his nod to the “No pain, no gain” axiom.

With a verbal command, Coach Steve de-tranced me and I was suddenly fully aware of what was about to happen.  My mind free, I was now held in place by the physical bonds of the water jet board.

My mind was racing and my heart was about ready to jump from my chest.  I had fantasized often of bondage situations, and dabbled a bit with pain, but the thought of high pressure water jets aimed at my sensitive cock and balls had me filled with anxiety.  I wanted to unload so badly, but this was going to be excruciating.  What the fuck was going on – and what did I get myself into?…

A sudden drop in volume from the front of the tent meant only one thing…

The buzzer sounded, loud cheering filled the tent, and a focused stream of high-pressure water began assaulting that sensitive spot on the underside of my throbbing cock.  The pain/pleasure threshold was pegged.  I tensed completely, hoping the feeling would end but also hoping it would never stop.  My balls churned as I quickly approached my half-year orgasm.  Twenty seconds in, and about 5 seconds before unloading, the bell rang, the water stopped, and the game ended.  One lucky carnival goer won a stuffed animal.  Nine disappointed carnival goers – and one back room muscle jock – were left wanting more.

For some odd reason I assumed this one game would be the end of this sexual torture.  In fact I felt more spent that I had during my most grueling workouts under Coach Steve’s tutelage.  Of course, Coach Steve was only getting started.  He yelled for passers by to try their luck (at my expense). And the game continued through the evening.

I was edged over and over hundreds of times.  My cock remained rock hard during the entire ordeal.    I could feel the chill of the evening air on my wet cock and balls.  Then suddenly I heard Coach Steve announce that this would be the last round.  Once all ten seats were filled, the hell began again.  I KNEW I had to make myself unload this time, through the pain, or I might have another 6 months to wait.  My mind was so conflicted and my body wracked with tension, pain, and anxiety.  The buzzer rang, the jets started, and the water massage on my dick began for the last time.

Time slowed down for me.  All I could feel was my cock throbbing.  The pleasure was off the charts.  I felt an orgasm building like none I’d ever experienced before.  I was frantically clenching and unclenching my  ass muscles.  After 6 months of denial, my prostate was likely the size of a fucking grapefruit!  I just needed a few more seconds…

And then it happened.  I exploded in a torrent of cum blasts that would have made the Bellagio in Vegas jealous.  Time slowed down further, and my orgasm must have lasted 5 minutes.  I lost all sense of reality and my whole being was focused on that one spot on the underside of my wildly spurting member.  As the involuntary flexing of my ass muscles began to subside, so did the carnival sounds, the smells, the bondage, and my anxieties.

Then awkward calm.  I opened my eyes which had been clenched shut up to this point.

I was in my shower, shower head in hand, single jet on high pressure pulse, aimed at my now limp cock, and a thick white blob half clogging the shower drain.  What the fuck just happened?

I dried off and headed for my bedroom, fully exhausted… and dazed over what just happened.

Out of habit, I reached for my cell phone and noticed a text.

“Hope you enjoyed your ‘carnival’ shower, stud.    You deserved it.  See you in six months for your next release.  New target:  Four percent body fat.  Ten percent muscle gain.  Coach Steve.  SLEEP…..”