MCCls19 was fully erect. His lube-slicked cock stood proudly up and out at a 45 degree angle. His plugs hung freely draped over those of his subject who laid supine on the tapping ritual platform. The pair was flanked on each side by three witnesses for a total of six, jumpsuit clad with their fight tools exposed flaccid. All were young upstarts in their respective MCs. They were about to see what punishment looked like for the first time.
The Subject of the ritual was a rival who had been cited for multiple mount violations for exceeding the push limit and fully depositing his demonstration. Warnings had been given. The club’s Dean had intervened many times with front and rear tenting to no avail. It was time for the Classifier to formally to reassert the gravity of club rules and customs.
The Subject’s bright red stinger pulsed with his heartbeat. The tightly tapered head glistened under the dim lighting of the ritual room. His testicles were large, almost the size of the Classifier’s and occasionally flexed under the weight of the pluggersack smothering him. The Classifier waited for a signal from the Subject to proceed which he gave with an almost imperceptible nod.
With no delay the Classifier inched himself slightly backward and drew up his massive plugs. Then with his index finger and thumb, grabbed himself at the base and swung his rod downward. His glans landed squarely between the Subject’s plugs with a muted thwack. Upon contact, the Classifier continued to push down driving his head between the plugs and forcing their separation briefly before raising his tool and repeating. With each strike, he increased the force and pressure applied.
On each flank the Witnesses watched in silence, their cocks twitching almost in sync with the strikes as the stiffened. Soon they would mark the Subject to reestablish him at the bottom rung of the hierarchy. All wins and achievements would be vacated and he would once again be like a new initiate with the added burden of having to defeat all in a combat ritual of their choice to reestablish competitive eligibility.
The Classifier continued for several more rounds when he sensed the subject getting close to surrender. He reared up is cock and struck once more and pushed his glans downward. A moment later the Subject’s stinger shot its first rope of cum upward onto his belly. Just as a it flexed and shot again, a second stream shot perpendicularly across Subject’s scrotum. Then another and and other. The Classifier was momentarily confused until he noticed the Witness closest to him on the left was demonstrating uncontrollably onto the Subject.
He knew the rival behind the mask, an overly eager stinger. It was part of the reason he was at HQ.
Not to be distracted by the faux pas, the Classifier resumed the ritual. Encircling the area just behind his glans with his index finger and thumb, the particular grip signaled a disciplinary demonstration. The positioning of the fingers and rest of the hand intended to obscure the shaft and pluggersack and “direct focus to the impending source of cum from the penetrator’s tip” per the ErMed. With not even a single stroke, the Classifier shot a single thick rope that spanned the lengh of the Subject’s entire shaft and pluggersack. The Witnesses then gripped in unison and furiously stroked themselves until they began to mark the Subject one by one with their loads. The early cummer had returned to full mast and managed to eke out a second load with his brethren.
Shortly the Witnesses stood silent, their cocks bent softly downward, dripping their seed, while their plugs hung loosely, empty, spent. The Classifier shot his full load to conclude the ritual, coating the Subject’s manhood in its entirety.
The Classifier stepped back signaling an end to the ritual. He would be the first to exit and as he did, he gently touched the offending witness gently on the back. The Classifier quickly dressed in the post-ritual room and headed toward his office.
——
At his desk, the Classifier contemplated how to proceed. He had already been notified about Stg457 from the Dean of MC |||\|, which was why he had been included in the ritual—to see that structure and discipline were deeply important to the Mushroom Club.
Stg457 was an eager cockfighter with a near arrow straight penis that pointed upward at a high angle and gave him advantage against his opponents with lower slung plugs. He had a penchant for carrying himself balls high which had attracted much attention in his club after initiation and earned him considerable time being harassed by the Pluggers who tried in vain to force him into a more respectful posture. His fellow Stingers frustratingly found him nearly immune to tenting by even the most tapered heads. He had done very well in initial screenings and showed promise for having dug deeper than most into the ErMed. However, his strength as a Stinger, a class known for quick and smooth penetration and rapid demonstration, had become a liability with the young fighter barely able to get past initial contact before spraying.
It had been at least a year or two since the Classifier had done any special coaching. He would need to determine the root issue—over sensitivity, overcompensation, or the most common problem for Stingers, latent desire to simply penetrate their way to dominance. As far as the Classifier knew, there were no ovipositioners in Stg457’s club. The subgroup appeared a few years ago in a cluster of clubs in the Midwest. They built a brand as “wasps” whose principal goal was to “sting” as many rivals as possible and deposit “venom.” Though they kept their activities mostly to themselves, their mantra of seedspreading had become problematic and was beginning to foster increasingly aggressive conflicts in the lounge sessions.
The MC Selection Cellar was quick to intervene and reeducate the rivals in the affected clubs. It was the first time the Classifer had seen more than one reinstatement by fellation at one time. He hadn’t felt particularly comfortable pumping his seed into the throats of repentant rivals though the ritual was a completely voluntary supplement to the rank reset and requested by all rivals involved.
Stg457 arrived just a moment after the Classifier had made up his mind. He knew there was deep talent in the cock behind the man that had just shown up at his office threshold. The Classifer stood and moved to the front of his desk and quick exposed himself through his pants. He produced a thin silicone sleeve that he slipped over his cock leaving just the glans exposed.
“Scrub and polish,” the Classifier order. It was neither a punishment nor a warm greeting.
Stg457 quickly exposed himself and swelled his penis. He produced a small bottle of lubrication which he applied amply to himself and the Classifier. He then began to massage the Classifier’s glans with his on in measured, circular strokes.
“The cockfighter is here to establish superiority by demonstrating control and power through his penis,” the Classifier began. “Though we are a brotherhood, we continue to perfect the ability to conquer through our manhood.”
Stg457 continued to massage the Classifier’s engorged head.
“The club believes in you. Your member is strong and attacks well. But you’re overeager. Your compulsion to mark, to claim is too strong and your seed is spilled prematurely.”
Stg457 paused. Then he felt the sensation swell from his loins to his testes which heaved and pumped sperm out onto the Classifier. The spurts were surprisingly strong given two recent demonstrations in the last half hour.
The Claissifier was not surprised and simply returned three shots of sperm to make his point.
“If you’re serious and want to be a true cockfighter, you must convince me. Your Dean says you know the Erectionist Meditations. Better than your peers. Well, show me. Go home and send me a message. Tell me your favorite passage. What spoke to you? What made you want to be a cockfighter? We’ll start your training there.”
The Classifier retreated into his pants and Stg457 did the same and left. The veteran cockfighter knew the clubs needed rivals like this stinger, but first, he needed to know the mindset he was dealing with.
MCCls19 was disappointed and frustrated. His best candidate in months or more walked out. He couldn’t wrap his head around how someone who’d come in so boldly and ready to give the club a try could leave so abruptly. He’d never even gone in the ritual room. MCCls19 wasn’t ready to give up but couldn’t figure out a path forward to give the young stinger another chance. Until he realized the solution was right under his nose. Sitting in his office three days later, preparing to close out the application, it hit him. He’d do what apparently others in the club had done: break the rules. Suddenly it was obvious. The applicant just showed up one night, right at the Classifier’s office door when he shouldn’t have been able to get into the lobby. There’s no possible way the control center didn’t see him and the Monitors would have had to grant him access to the elevators and office suite.
Second, the young man knew, or at least thought he knew, who the Classifier was. And he knew somewhat what to do when he met him. MCCls19 had bounced between whether he thought the applicant had been coached and whether he was working on gut instinct. He was sure the newcomer had not come in cold even if he didn’t fully grasp how things worked.
Finally, in the questionnaire he said he found the club online. Aside from the instructions on the card he’d slipped to the man, there’s no online presence and even the card makes no mention of the club, only an obscure web address to the comms portal. Either he lied or someone meant for him to find the club. The latter seemed far more likely given the chatter amongst Deans that their clubs were struggling to recruit and were considering unconventional means.
MCCls19 felt conflicted. He had joined at a similar age as the young man. He was much more sure about his interest in fighting but was intimidated by being 20 years younger than most in the rooms and being stuck with his glans tucked in the old guys’ hoods or plug bases while they casually stroked and marked him. Though he was a plugger and technically outranked them all, he hadn’t read enough of the EM to understand that, and the senior members exploited it until he got the courage to swing his large low nuts. In just 7 years, he became the 19th Classifier. It took 18, twice as long.
Back at his computer, he tried one last idea. Let the newcomer explain himself. Maybe he wasn’t into the sport. There was still the option to report on club activities. It was a role needed now more than ever.
-- Message sent via the AxMCAdmin:
Tomorrow. 7pm. 3rd floor lounge.
Tell me what you feel you need to. I will follow your lead.
*Send.*
McCls19 had been on the road for a month visiting Mushroom Clubs all over the country and was exhausted. The trip was reassurance real interest in true cockfighting remained but that the cryptic ways of old were hurting membership. MC Deans were unified against becoming structureless orgy pits and needed new ways to recruit.
While traveling, the Classifier wondered whether the applicant known as [redacted] maintained his initial enthusiasm with no contact for so long. Their last meeting had been good and the Classifier hoped he still might be interested in reporting on club matches and activities even if he was a less active competitor himself. And there were pages of documents cataloging rituals and writings of prominent members still to be uncovered in the secret archive.
In the lounge, the Classifier idly scrolled through some recent applications on his comm before [redacted] arrived for their first scheduled meeting in weeks. His energy was neutral if anything and the Classifier wondered whether his intuition had been off.
Remember, it’s not for everybody and he’s young. There are plenty other experiences for him to pursue.
The Applicant joined McCls19 in the lounge booth. After what he learned on the road, The Classifier saw no further need to ease him in and had planned an event that would make or break the young man’s interest in the club. He seemed respectful enough to keep what he saw to himself and even if he didn’t, who would believe him?
There’s a secret club of old guys rubbing their dicks together for clout and status in an office building downtown. Yeah right, buddy.
“I’m glad you came,” the Classifier began hoping to not convey any unnecessary warmth in his greeting. He continued, deadpan and clinical in his preparatory speech.
“As you have probably gathered from our interactions, I’m in the plugger class. You can call them balls, nuts, testicles, etc., but in the MC, they’re called plugs. The term comes from the plugging ritual, sometimes called ‘sacknotting,’ which is the oldest ritual in all of the MCs history. During the ritual, two ‘anchors’ will get on all fours, more or less ass to ass while pluggers stand over them, insert their plugs into their anuses and engage in a cockfight. First cock to demonstrate, that is ejaculate, or pop out of his anchor loses. Being an anchor is totally voluntary and a rare few ever become good enough for competition. There are also plugged preening sessions where pluggers show off how far they can stretch their sacks without popping out of their anchor.”
If the applicant had any doubts, they weren’t evident. The Classifier could only image what was in his head. As a young recruit, he’d found it bizarre yet intriguing. It was nothing like anything he’d imagined but in an odd way made sense. It was imaginative in a primal way, like something conceived deep in the woods on a starlit night, perhaps after a drunken feast a thousand years ago.
“There’s an up and coming plugger in the ritual room. He’s here for a test ritual against me. I wanted to spectate so you can see it firsthand and share your thoughts. You can join us in the lounge for a cocktail and even a meal if you’d like afterward. Or you may go home and send me your thoughts about the ritual and whether you want to join us officially.”
The Classifier took a moment to let his instructions register then motioned toward the preparation room. At the door, the Classifier passed.
“Keep yourself exposed while inside. You may masturbate but do not demonstrate until after the winner marks the loser. You may cum on either one of us, whichever one you think was the better fighter. The anchors will demonstrate on their respective plugger.”
The Classifier turned the white door handle and the applicant followed him inside.
——— Minutes later the pair were in their black jumpsuits and masks, soft cocks and plugs displayed. The Classifier nodded and the two proceeded through a door with a red handle. The next room was almost perfectly square, about 15x15 feet with a plush black carpet and plain white walls. The room was dimly lit like a movie theater before showtime. To the left was a door with a green handle and on the far side a door with a white handle.
In the center the room was a narrow black padded platform about a foot high. On it, two men in black jumpsuits and masks, apparently the anchors, kneeled on all fours with their backsides nearly touching. A masked and jumpsuited man of about 6 feet with a similar build to the Classifier straddled one of the anchors with his cock exposed and plugs hanging low and resting on the anchor’s buttocks.
The Challenger was clean shaven, his average sized pale white cock tapered to a pointed glans like most stinger classes. Tributaries of deep blue veins ran along his shaft and his pink plugger sack hung heavy an inch or so below his glans. The Classifier approached, straddled his anchor and nodded. His tan flare and hairy plugs marked a stark contrast to the Challenger though both men were similarly sized and the Classifier’s plugs hung just a half inch lower.
The rivals leaned in for a greeting, touching cock to cock and sliding back and forth against each other while remaining flaccid. They then pulled back and both gradually became erect and flexed a half dozen times each making contact each time. Finally, they both gently swung their hips back and forth to make their plugger sacks gently collide roughly a dozen times. The room was silent except for quiet taps of skin to skin contact and the sound of the jumpsuit fabric swishing.
Seemingly from nowhere the rivals each produced unlabeled bottles of lubrication and applied liberal amounts to themselves. Then practically in unison, they squatted slightly over their anchors and simultaneous bunching their sacks into tight knots as they separated the rear flaps of their anchors’ jumpsuits. With surprising deftness each man plugged his anchor, neither of whom even seemed to register any reaction to being penetrated by a ballsack. Both sets of plugs were firmly locked into their anchors, visibly cinched toward the base of their cocks. The rivals briefly let their cocks rest against each other before they began to flex their rods and subtly twist their hips to alter their strikes as their cocks slid frictionlessly against each other.
Both rivals were strictly focused and only vague aware of the applicant observing nearby. The Classifier was impressed with the Challenger’s control and strength in his flexes and his ability to follow the rhythm of competition to maintain solid contact. He decided to up the ante by using his thumb and index finger to direct more powerful strikes against the Challenger who followed suit immediately. Within a few seconds both men were in a blur of forward and lateral strikes, whipping into each others shafts and crowns with increasingly loud smacks. After another two minutes or so, the Challenger let out a grunt and exhaled loudly. He released his manhood and began to shoot ropes of cum in powerful spurts on the Classifier’s shaft and jumpsuit. Soon after he went limp, sperm dripping from his tapered tip. He unceremoniously withdrew his plugs from the anchor and stood upright to await marking.
The Classifier rose partially stretching his sack further and further. His anchor tightened himself somewhat rhythmically pulling the plugs down to exaggerate the effect. The Classier continued to rise until eventually his sack popped free and his balls hung freely, still slick with lube. He shook them a bit and then swung them several times into his rivals balls as a sign of respect. A moment later, he aimed his flared mushroom at the rival and and shot several spurts of cum on his penis without even stroking his shaft. As he finished, each anchor stood and exposed himself and within 30 seconds began to coat the shaft of his respective plugger with sperm.
The men then stood in a semi-circle around the applicant to see whether he too would shoot on his preferred rival before retracting back into his jumpsuit. Either way, the applicant was welcome to join the group in the lounge where he would be free to talk and ask questions. Or he could simply return home and write to the Classifier about his experience and interest, or lack thereof, in joining.
*There’s no club like this club, kid. Believe me, I know. You’re welcome here, but we know it’s not for everyone.*
The Classifier had said everything he could and speaking was strictly forbidden in the room. The choice was no longer in his hands.
The Classifier turned the white door handle and i followed him inside. I'm standing in a dimly lit room as an audience waiting for duel to happen and thinking about 2 classes i'm about to be presented in action. I can't imagine being a plugger because even after a long hot bath my plugs just don't hang low enough to give sufficient movement margin to succeed in that class. Anchor instead has a passive role: Kneeling on a floor ass lifted against other male ass anticipating a hot low hanging plum to be inserted into my anus and tighten my sphinchter to succumb it all deep inside of me. Objectified into a female role as figurative incubating chaber to temporary storage of his manjuice. If opponent loses by shooting his load onto winners cock, it will trickle down on his balls onto my rim and absorbed into fabric around my assflap. Submitting passive role somehow feels tempting to me. I must have sunken into my thoughts when battle began cause all events feels blurry. Did winning plugger cum on losing plugger and both anchors cum on the plugger they was mounted?
I'm feeling confused when they're begin to form semi-circle around me, the applicant and i remember my role next is to choose to whom i will cum on. I already have my flap open and i'm touching myself as they all are looking at my cock. My shaved pubichair has grown to over centimeter long since i contacted first time. Feeling embarassed from all this attention as i begin masturbate furiously but because i have been aroused for a sometime already, i feel pressure piling up and i have to choose my target quick! I barely had a time to point my cock towards the challenger when i shoot my ropes into high arc that lands on his stomach and shaved smooth cock. All this attention makes me to retract fast back into my jumpsuit while still dripping cum.
I join them in the lounge and express my concerns to classifier about plugger class and describe in detail how i feel towards being anchor. "So, i have seen these 2 classes but there must be more to choose from, right?"
The men ate and drank in relative silence but their energy was distinctly positive. The Applicant ate a little just to seem occupied. McCls19 knew from their brief chat while they dressed he was interested in knowing more but understood to wait.
The Challenger was a blond man with vaguely Norwegian features and an indistinguishable accent that seemed to change every sentence. The Anchors were fairly nondescript Americans with slightly receding hairlines and the beginnings of beer bellies though neither was particularly out of shape. The Classifier was the elder at the table but his presence projected a certain agelessness, comfortable within any group.
“How did I do?” the Challenger asked.
“Fine. You’re a natural,” the Classifier replied.
The table burst into polite laughter. The Applicant looked to each of the men bewildered.
“Poor lad, probably thinks we’re mad,” the Challenger said. “Cock mad!” More laughter and bewilderment from the Applicant.
“True Pluggers have Natural Privilege. If your plugs are big and hang low enough, you’re sort of untouchable,” the Classifier explained. “A lot of members tend to get a big ego about it and occasionally have to be reminded by their Deans that the clubs aren’t their little kingdoms. Saying ‘you’re a natural’ to a Plugger is a lighthearted way of saying ‘I can’t criticize you even if you deserve it.’”
The Applicant nodded and laughed nervously.
“You’re pretty good. You got caught up in matching me rather than countering. It’s much harder while plugging because the cinch keeps you erect but it feels good. Every flex inches you a bit closer to demonstration. Know when to try to force a demonstration, when to force surrender, and when to force withdrawal.”
The Challenger and the Anchors all nodded knowingly.
The men discussed the ritual a bit more, using terminology mostly foreign to the Applicant, until the conversation turned to the young man sitting amongst the group.
“What club are you from, friend?” the Challenger asked.
Before the Applicant could respond the Classifier interjected.
“None… yet.”
The other three men all looked curiously in anticipation of more information. The Classifier felt he had judged the group correctly and that they would be receptive rather than offended. Non-members weren’t typically privy to official club activities inside HQ though most members had been unofficially introduced to the concept of MC somewhere outside of their own clubs.
“Literally walked in off the street and asked for classification. So, I tucked him and made him pump. Stiffer than you might think.”
Amongst the group, confusion, then a sly grin smile cracked across the Challenger’s face.
“With balls like that, he must be a plugger then!”
The men laughed.
“Stinger… actually,” the Applicant said timidly. “Well, that’s what I think.”
“Yeah, I could see that. That curve is spot on. I’d be scared to have you tent me even though these balls have taken a beating,” the Challenger said. “But I know something else. You’re curious about this whole anchor thing, right?”
The Applicant flushed slightly and nodded.
“It’s OK, friend. We’re not like those clubs downtown or in the backwoods. You’ll have to learn to do some real combat first, but there are plenty of Pluggers searching for the right Anchor. Just be warned, we can be finicky as hell. And you’ll probably spend a lot of time just getting your plugs smothered. I can’t explain it, it’s just something we do, like marking without the mess. My first Dean was a Plugger. I’ve still got bruises on my sack from him slamming those colossal nuts against mine every session. Behold the mighty nuts of yore.”
More laughter.
One of the anchors spoke up.
“I tend to be a bit more submissive so finding a Plugger to support was pretty natural to me. I, too, spent probably four or five months on my back with plugs swinging and grinding into me. I learned quickly to build my endurance because if you shoot too early in the session, the Pluggers spend their time tapping your balls, sometimes three or four of them at once. Just head after head beating your plugs something awful and poking up under your taint. I’m into it but it gets boring and the soreness lingers early on.”
The other anchor nodded and jumped into the conversation.
“Yeah, same for me. I jumped into cockfighting a little earlier so I could anchor. As you probably saw, I’m a Jock so preening is my thing. I want all eyes on this red, veiny thing. If you’re good at that, your rival will get worked up seeing you flex and shoot the moment you land a good strike or pin him in just the right spot. Anyway, you need at least three wins before you become eligible to be an Anchor, but you can practice as much as you want. Pluggers love plugging. They’re good at getting in but will test how well you cinch. Their favorite thing is showing off how far they can stretch their sacks so you have to hold tight and be able to move with him. Once those plugs are in, it feels like nothing else. Sort of painful at first but they’re squishier than cocks so they tend to fit with your body. The ultimate test is being able to stand up straight against a wall with a Plugger standing up straight behind you. If he can get plugged in and demonstrate handsfree without withdrawing, you’ll be a top tier team, no question.”
The comments stirred more discussion amidst the group and the men traded war stories for a while before the conversation turned to how the Challenger got into MC.
The Challenger spoke up first.
“I was 19 or 20, working in a fitness center downtown. It was kind of a ritzy place, lots of professionals, especially lawyers. Anyway, you’ve probably been in the lockers coming from a swim and the geezers are all there strutting around like they own the place. I was used to it and to tell the truth, it never bothered me. I kinda liked seeing all the different kinds of cocks back there. They were all different and interesting. I especially liked the ones with big heads.
“I had seen frottage on the web and wanted to try it but didn’t know how to find a buddy. Anyway, one night, I’m shutting down the gym. My boss had taken off early to get a jump on the holiday weekend and the lifeguard had shut the pool already. The city was mostly dead anyway so the club had been empty all day. I got stuck reconciling the register by myself and it was maybe 45 minutes after closing when I went to clean up the lockers.
“Well, there’s an older man back there, a lawyer I think, in his early 60s toweling off. He should have been long gone but people get caught up with their routines and such and don’t realize we’re shutting down so I paid it no mind. I told him we were closing up, checked the women’s lockers, and shut off the lights on the exercise floor. I come back maybe 10 minutes later and he’s in the same spot, not a thread off clothing on. I started to say something but he had an odd look on his face. He kinda stared at me and framed his flare with his index and ring finger and wagged it. Didn’t know what it meant but curiosity got the best of me.
“Looking at his mushroom, I got rock hard. It was a bit wrinkled and heavily veined. Somewhat grey and splotchy with a thin shaft, but unbelievably big head. It looked like a plum on a celery stick, a real sledgehammer with a dark purple tint. The glans was twisted just a bit clockwise and curved from just below the frenulum. His balls were low and covered with greying pubes. He just sort of flexed and casually swung it like a batter waiting for a pitch as I approached.
“He said, ‘show me.’ Real quiet.
“I unzipped my pants and pulled myself through my boxers. I was harder than I’d ever been. My stinger was flush red and the veins popped in contrast. He rubbed his head around mine then along the shaft. Then he slapped them together a couple times.
‘There’s a club I go…. They can teach you how to--,’
“He trailed off as he pushed the head into my pants into my balls. ‘Hm, nice and big, low,’ he sort of grunted. I drew my plugs up instinctively and wrapped his tip in the space between the base of my shaft and my plugs. The heat was incredible. He was firm as he pushed and began to flex rhythmically. My cock laid on the top of his and shot immediately. I pumped more sperm than I ever had directly in his thick bush. In a few moments I felt a jet of his fluid, then another and another. I was spent but couldn’t go soft.
“We both panted softly for a bit. He pulled himself out of my pants and stepped back looking at my still-hard cock. ‘I win. You shot first,’ he said. I withdrew back into my pants and he started to get dressed.
“That night, I went home and found a card in my pocket. Next thing I know, I’m in here with three guys slapping my plugs around with their cocks in one their tapping rituals. Can’t say I could have imagined it on my own, but it felt right. Imagine saying, ‘yeah, I kinda like guys slapping and ramming my dick with theirs to see who can stay hard and not cum.’ Sounds crazy, but we’re all here, right? And, don’t even get me started on the Exchange device. Having a rival shoot cum directly down into my piss slit was unlike anything else, but that’s definitely NOT for everybody.”
The men chatted a bit more as the evening wound down. Everything had gone as the Classifier hoped. The Applicant seemed more at ease, and some of the local members seemed OK with letting an outsider peek behind the curtain a bit. Membership needed a boost and operating completely in the shadows wasn’t helping.
The Challenger and Pluggers left first, leaving the Classifier and the Applicant.
“If you want to practice getting plugged next week, let me know. Message me your thoughts from tonight and questions. More will be coming to the blog if we can get some more members recruited to write.”
The Classifier then disappeared into the elevator. The Applicant headed home.
The next morning the Classifier, better known in the club as MCCls19, sat down at his desk to draft his report. He logged in to the MCArComm and initiated a new log, but found himself preoccupied.
It had been months since any applicant submitted a request and years since anyone had shown up in person. He’d never had anyone present himself unprompted unless they were truly in the wrong place looking for something they could get at any gym or nightclub bathroom. Still, something was different.
The discipline to come in flaccid, the greeting and homage to a plugger, the patience and go with the flow posture. MCCls19 felt that the young man understood something in the EM far better than even the most qualified applicants. The thing that the keepers of records and protectors of the code understood: It’s not about sex. It’s about dominance void of the most degrading aspects of hierarchy. It’s the microcosm of manly conflict and literal manifestation of sexual competition without the dire physical or psychological consequences. MCs are about true sport.
Maybe the impromptu ritual was too much, too fast, too just… weird. Maybe it seemed juvenile and pointless. Clubs could seem downright cultish at times with all of the rules and cryptic practices. Sure, many men experimented with their buddies but very few men had ever experienced the peculiarities of penile combat.
MCCls19 had watched the Applicant from his office window on his way out. He had stood there on the sidewalk for a moment, totally still before briskly walking away. MCCls19 had been there, at the precipice of something very unusual, mentally conquering the labels of sexuality and moving into a new realm of thinking where all he knew about himself didn’t apply.
MCCls19 typed:
“Unknown walk-in. Immediate non-hostile display. Left 1-3 wag front and side. Pluggers signal. Pull up greeting and rest. Unintentional flex and tap. Alternate sparring strikes to the plugs. Plug lift and cock high. Sprung strong from drape. Buffed and sac tapped to pre-demonstration. Forced plugger base sting with strong jet pulses. Full discharge and excellent coating before surrender. Marked shaft simple and dismissal. Two silence violations but otherwise deferent and cautious.
Result: Recommend for reveal.
Required answers from Applicant:
-What do you know?
-How did you learn?
-Why did you come?
-What do you want?
***
Message from AxMCAdmin: The report has been forwarded to the Selection Cellar via the AxMCAdmin. Comments will be sent in 24 hours upon receipt of answers. To decline, do not respond.
*** Then the reply arrived. The Applicant had answered… honestly. MCCls19 was encouraged by not seeing another “big hard cock” narrative or a bitch boy type of subservience. The culture of those fetishes were so pervasive, it’s all that ever came in. MCCls19 wondered how many imaginations had been destroyed by the concept that the bigger dick always wins and the smaller cocked man must bend over and receive as the “master” takes his pleasure, intentionally and aggressively thrusting so his balls would bang incessantly against those of his prize to remind him of his inferiority. After punishingly tedious thrusting, smugly he would tighten his testicles, grunt and ejaculate inside, asserting his dominance and expecting perpetual subservience. MC saw so much more potential in equitable cockplay. Mounting could be intense, but endless pushing was not all there was to man’s sexuality. The Classifier sealed the selection cellar’s comments in an envelope. The text would only be visible under blacklight and only for about 2 days after which the ink would fade. One more exercise and the club would know whether it had a new member. The Classifier wrote back: 7pm. At 7pm sharp, the applicant walked into the nearly empty white marble lobby. A man in a black suit with a white dress shirt sat behind a desk in a deep black stone to the left. A wall of rich brown wood was behind him. Straight ahead was an elevator well with three doors on each side. “Good evening and welcome,” the man said. “Please wait a moment while we get you checked in.” The Applicant reflexively began to reach for his wallet to show ID. So many buildings downtown required it. “No sir. No identification. If you ever come back, you shouldn’t bring it.” A moment later, a hidden door in the wall swung in to reveal the Classifier who was dressed the same as the man at the desk. He motioned the Applicant in and began walking down a hallway that ended at an elevator door. The Applicant followed and as they approached, the doors slid open and the men stepped in. The two descended an indeterminable number of floors. The elevator doors opened to a dimly lit and empty cocktail lounge. The Applicant followed the Classifier to a semi-circular booth of plush black leather with a round table in the center and took the opposite side. Once the young man was settled, the Classifier handed him an envelope. “This is the only place in any MC where you may speak and anyone may speak to you. Consider it a headquarters of sorts.” The Applicant stared at the envelope and judged correctly that he was not to open it yet. From nowhere a server in a black suit arrived with a carafe of water and two glasses. He then disappeared behind the bar. “You are safe here. Probably more than anywhere else. The security is second to none anywhere in the world. We develop the technology and protocols here, but that’s not important now.” The Classifier took a sip of water and cleared his throat. “Any door with a green handle will lead you to stairwells that lead to exits, directly outside, or the lobby. Any door with a white handle will lead to a preparation room. Any door with a red handle will lead you to a ritual room. No doors in the entire building have locks except the control room on the top floor. You may leave at any time for any reason. There is no safe word or protocol. Simply turn and exit. Do you understand?” The Applicant nodded. The Classifier pointed to a wall on the far side of the lounge. There were two doors, one at each end of the wall about 30 feet apart, both with white handles. “Enter the door on the left. There will be small room, about 10x10 feet and a bench. There will be a black jumpsuit with an exposure flap and breathable black mask that will cover your entire head. Change into them before entering the ritual room, which is indicated by the red handle. Alternatively, there will also be a door with a green handle. Do you understand?” The Applicant looked to the doors, bewildered, then returned his gaze to the Classifier and nodded. “In the ritual room you will find an anonymous MC Dean with a 5-inch stinger. You’ve been matched with him per your request to be classified as one of his ilk. He’s roughly six feet tall and about 320 pounds. Don’t be intimidated by his size. He will not hurt you and will not touch you with his hands. His only goal is to assess your abilities by probing your cock and balls and make you either demonstrate, that is cum, or lose your erection. There will be a door with a white handle which will lead you to the room behind the door on the right. Do you understand?” The Applicant nodded. “You have 18 minutes to win, survive, surrender, or leave. If you force him to ejaculate, you win. If neither of you ejaculate, you will survive. If he forces you to ejaculate or lose your erection, you surrender. If you enter the preparation room, you leave. You may only touch yourself. If you win, you may mark only his shaft and testicles with your cum. If you survive, you may masturbate until you cum on each other in sync. If you surrender, he will mark you. Your clothes will be in the second preparation room. Once you are dressed, leave through the door with the green handle. Do you understand?” The applicant nodded. “You may never speak in any preparation or ritual room. Enter covered and flaccid, then reveal your testicles, or plugs, then reveal your shaft once he has signaled. If you enter or reveal yourself erect, he will be far more aggressive and you almost certainly will surrender within two minutes. He’s extremely skilled, and it will be easy to underestimate him based on his appearance. If you are overly submissive, he will be that much more aggressive. Keep your cock proud. Try your best to win, and don’t be surprised if you do. It may be easier than you think. Your performance against me was uncommonly good.” The Classifier stood up and walked toward the door on the left. The Applicant steeled himself and followed. “Now is your time to decide. If you go through with the ritual, read the comments in the envelop and report your experience to me when you get home. I will not see or hear anything but the Dean will report to me as well.” The Classifier gave a final nod and pat on the Applicant’s shoulder. “I think you’re different. I hope you don’t disappoint, but again, it’s your choice. MC is built on respect for others. If you’re not accepted, take that with you. You may still be accepted regardless of your performance tonight. The only guaranteed way to be rejected is to leave. And once you do, you may never return here or any MC.” The Classifier stepped aside, leaving nothing between the Applicant and the door.
— Comments from the AxMCSlcClr: AxMCStg: You know what I’m going to ask. Is he an erectionist or just another guy who wants to bully his cock up every hole because he spun himself out on the hookup apps? There are plenty of other clubs for that, but I’ll get off the soap box. That aside, it looks like a stinger glans from below and soft but seems more like a flare when hard. Not picky on either class and there are plenty of stingers living on their tactics rather than features. They only care about preening and mounts anyway. AxMCSlb: Love the signature subtle stinger’s arc but the head seems more like a flare. What’s the brawling style? Fencer, true frotter, clubby, or something else? We’re not exactly swimming in stingers so we could be more liberal. I’m still a little shocked at how bold he was from the report. It seems he’s serious and might already be good for the archivist reporter pool. AxMCStg: Not enough taper on the glans for me, but no big deal. The hardcore ovistiffenners are all retired anyway and the movement pretty toxic truth be told. (Let’s hope the WASPS never get that zealous, they're annoying enough with all that “depositing” talk on the comms.) I’ve seen some pretty thick heads tent and mount well from that base position. The stinger’s arc is perfection. That tight sack is gonna make him a magnet for pluggers to smother. Classifier, I bet you buffed and nut tucked him before you sprayed, didn’t you, hahaha. Pluggers, sigh. One day you’re gonna break someone’s stem clean in half just so you can stretch that sack a little more. Anyway, is he ready to spend the first couple months getting sacks bounced and whacked against his plugs half the time? AxMCFlr: It looks OK on paper, but how proud is that cock gonna be in the room? And will he still want to be a stinger after that first mount when he feels that fat corona catch just right on the way out and he realizes the flop out and flex out is a way more dramatic demonstration? One thing that’s for certain, a guy with that kind of profile is definitely a cock nerd like the rest of us. AxMCFlr: Tight balls, the gift and the curse. Much better for defense which he’ll need when rivals think he’s walking up to them nuts high. Our stingers would definitely take him in but he’s gonna have to get good at jousting fast. It would be nice to have a bit more size on the team. Our best guys are 4” and struggle on tapping and slugouts. Seems like he’s got enough weight at the tip to to really land solid smacks a rival will remember.
MCCls19 had nearly given up hope. Three days had gone by since he’d seen the applicant. He wondered whether he had seen the note and if he had, were the questions too invasive, accusatory? It occurred to him that it had been a long time since he’d wanted someone to join. Most guys had gotten there by accident or at least without a proper understanding that MC was something other than what it appeared on the surface.
—-
AxMCJck: Stingers never change. Always concerned with length, right? If he wants to preen and poke balls, let him. Takes me back to the days of digging up under those cocky monsters who didn’t know what the hell to do when I jammed the base. If he can lock that tip right between the balls without a lot of fumbling, he may be legit. The curve is signature stinger and he’s probably hard as a rock six hours out of the day. That taught frenulum brings some style to the table too.
It was just past 10pm when the Applicant appeared at the doorway of the office asking if he was in the right place. The Classifier thought he’d heard someone enter the suite but dismissed it as his jet lagged imagination since most of the staff were still back at the home office and none of the other employees would be unpacking boxes this late.
The Classifier barely had time to acknowledge and give the signal for silence when the man stepped forward and dropped his pants revealing himself flaccid and non-threatening. He mentioned the guide and began to describe himself when the Classifier hushed him. The Applicant pushed his hips ever so slightly forward and laid his left hand flat against himself framing his package with his index and ring finger. He gave himself a slight shake, keeping his eyes down. His shaft bounced slightly against his his sack which was deep red, high, and tight, but he clearly was not trying to challenge. He turned to the side, shook again then turned back. The approach was bolder than most and reminiscent of applications decades back. He’d either been coached by a Dean or stumbled upon one of the rare copies of the Erectionist Meditations of which the MC Archivist had only located two aside from the original manuscript. The Classifier was annoyed by the verbal faux pas but chalked it up to nerves.
Unsure what to expect from an applicant who appeared in his 20s or 30s—at least 15 years younger than most new members—The Classifier motioned to the man to close the door, which he did. The Classifier rose from his chair and came around to the front of his desk a couple of feet from the man. The man stepped closer remaining respectfully flaccid though he had started to swell slightly. The Applicant handed over his phone on which he has pulled up a gallery of photos that looked to be from a preening session. The Classifier flipped through the photos and handed the phone back then unzipped his pants and exposed only his testicles just inches from the Applicant’s member. He contracted three times and nodded for the applicant to proceed. What the man did next would be reported back to the recruitment cellar for consideration of the next application phase. The Applicant kept his head down and pushed his hips forward… *Don’t overthink it, friend. This is just a greeting.*
On the other hand, the Applicant’s behavior felt intentional. He kept his feet planted as he grew causing the top of his glans to rise into the bottom of the Classifier’s plugs and lifted them. He carefully flexed his way out, then rested the tip between the plugs. It was a clear sign of respect even through the man’s palpable anxiety. He flexed nervously causing the shaft rise then slap back between the Classifiers balls which he worried was too aggressive.
The Classifier contracted his plugsack a few tines to assess the weight resting on him. The Applicant’s glans was incredibly hot and red as it tentatively pushed into the sack, flexed, and released. His flare stiffened to full mast and flexed several times dropping his tip back and forth against each plug then lifting the Classifiers plugs a few times before returning to attention. The Classifier instinctively completed the sequence by draping his sack on the Applicant’s glans and contracting a few times before sliding off and springing the cock upward. The Applicant definitely knew something about the Erectionist Meditations, but how? Taking charge, the Classifier gathered his balls into a tight bouquet-like knot with one hand smothered the freshly shaven balls before him with his pluggers. The Applicant throbbed and flex uncontrollably for a minute with the Classifier breaking contact occasionally to gently beat his sack against the Applicant’s.
*Might as well let him know how pluggers play.*
The Classifier sensed it coming, a special kind of pre-attack twitch and hip sway. At that moment, he dropped his plugs to full sack low and guided the plump, beet red glans dead into his plugger-base of the shaft. The Applicant pushed in reflexively a hard as he could without losing his balance or making any other contact. He felt the older man mirror the force and awkwardly impale himself.
One flex, then another and another and another, harder and deeper. The Applicant’s breath quickened but he remained silent and kept his hands on his hips as a deep ache grew from the continued forward pressure on his already painfully stiff rod. Something inside sparked and the Applicant reared back slightly and then pushed slowly and deliberately with all the strength he could muster as he felt the return resistance match him. Then, pump after pump, he completely soaked the Classifier’s testicles until he went limp and their sacks touched.
Before the Applicant could recompose himself and process what was happening, the Classifier deftly retrieved his cock, a 6.5 inch flare with a subtle curve to the left. He grabbed his flare and slapped the Applicant’s shaft and balls several times then held the package in his alternate hand. He shot sperm hands free several times along the shaft before retreating to his pants. The young man did the same and quickly left.
The Applicant’s hesitation sure he hadn’t been coached. Stingers would have taught him go straight for the plugger-base and sting out a spray. A brawler would have told him to swing head; boring but effective. The preen king jocks probably would have suggested an “accidental” strike. When your rival is exposed, take your shot.
The Classifier didn’t ordinarily care what applicants thought. The club isn’t for everyone and it would be up to the classification cellar to make the call.
In college, long before I knew anything about the Mushroom Club, I had an encounter with a member though I didn’t understand until later. I was at the gym drying off after a late swim and chatting with this older guy, probably in his 50s, who was sort of in the same schedule. We were usually the last ones out gotten somewhat familiar over a couple of months. He asked if I wanted to grab a beer and I said yes. A moments later he says, “Want to see something?” I’m not sure why but I had a feeling he was talking about his penis even though I wasn’t looking at him. He came over and I realize he’s starting to get erect with the biggest glans I’ve ever seen looking ready to pop out of his tight foreskin. Saying nothing he grabs his penis and peels back the skin where it catches behind the head. Then he just starts squirting cum all over my penis. He coated my shaft, nuts, pubes, just spurt after spurt. Wasn’t sure what to make of it but I got rock hard pretty much instantly. Right as I went to grab myself, my member just started convulsing and I started cumming. He got a little closer so my shots landed on him. Then he says, “It’s called the Curious Cum Trigger. Bet you’ve never seen anything like that. Still want that beer?” Even when I joined MC years later, I never learned to do it myself but saw a few more times.
The base ritual is simple, intuitive, automatic. Mine against yours, penis to penis, testicles to testicles. Until surrender or satisfaction, that is, to be beaten flaccid or demonstrate (ejaculate) involuntarily. Poke, prod, probe, stab, jam, swing, slam, press, rub, grind, pulse, and so on. A fight for superiority that we all understand in our deepest primal brains and loins each time a rival’s genital heat warns us of impending attack. The is winner rewarded with with showers of ejaculate from his peers and a tense but deferent envy from his defeated rivals.
Not so intuitive are some of the lessons learned from experience. It’s not always the girthy slabs of endless vein-covered inches that triumph. Mushroom Club veterans know a long, heavy slab may strike hard but often burdens the wielder against more compact and agile stiffies. A tightly tapered glans finds the tender space between shaft and testicles much more easily and can hold a rival at its mercy as it digs in relentlessly, stiffening more with each pulse and thrust. Surprisingly many more find themselves relieving the incessant ache that creeps slowly into the prostate with strong jets of ejaculate onto their rivals rather than by loss of vigor. A loss nonetheless and their tools eventually hang limp over their rivals’ victorious poles.
Respect is paramount. Approach your rival flaccid and hung low in the sack. Wait for him to address you with slight head to head contact, perceptible but without any intent to strike. Sense the energy and then begin your preen. All eyes will be on your weapons, eager to see them flex, bounce, and swing as they transform into turgid lances ready to probe their way to victory. A true champion learns to win the preen through subtle artistry that conveys brutal masculinity capable of conquering any challenger.
The base ritual has one simple rule: win by inducing demonstration (ejaculation) or surrender (loss of erection) in your opponent. Literally, beat his cock into submission with your own. Generally speaking, forcing demonstration is considered a superior win and wearing a rival’s sperm on one’s erection often receives higher praise. However, central record keeping makes no distinction.
Post-victory, the winner will mark his rival in one of two ways. Most common in the modern era is simple demonstration on the defeated genitals. The recipient must make himself available and remain limp for marking by his rival and subsequently any non-combatant observers wishing to show support for his performance. Official ranking matches will then be certified by the club Dean marking both parties. They both must promptly retreat into their jumpsuits and exit the ritual room.
More traditional clubs allow for a mounting phase. Both rivals must consent to the mount “before firm contact of heads,” according to club rules. Prior to the mount, each rival must be successfully penetrated no further than the flare of the glans by the cellar’s Dean. Post demonstration or surrender, the losing party must face the wall and expose his anus for the mount. The winner must then formally “declare,” that is, verbally announce each of the four steps in the mount: breech, push, declare, demonstrate. This is one of the few times that talking is allowed in the ritual room.
During the “breech,” the winner is given three attempts to enter his opponents anus. He must enter completely hands free though he may use his hands to stabilize his rival for entry. The club Dean supervises and judges what constitutes an attempt. The Dean indicates successful entry by touching his glans to the penetrating rival’s shaft. If there is no successful entry after three attempts, the Dean will invalidate the mount and preceding cockfight win by marking the penetrator.
The “push” consists of seven inward strokes of the penetrator. As he is inserting, the mounting rival must cause his testicles to make contact with his recipient on at least one of the strokes. If he makes contact on all seven, his win in the cockfight will be recorded regardless if the mount is not successful. Pushes may be executed in any manner so long as the glans remains completely unexposed. A stroke is considered complete at the instant of retreat, however, there is no limit on how deep or how long a push may go. Contrarily, the push is strictly limited to seven strokes, and violation of this rule requires rear tenting by the Dean while the penetrator is still mounted. The Dean’s duty is to push into the penetrator’s plugs with extreme force until his erection subsides and he withdraws himself fully flaccid.
A rival may only declare when he is ready to demonstrate. Any time between the beginning of the push and before demonstration, the penetrator must say the following phrase: “This rival has been conquered. I now withdraw.” This is the point of no return in which the winning rival may pulse twice while still inserted, but then must withdraw and turn completely toward the Dean to complete his ejaculation without using his hands. A successful mount is rewarded by the dean who will rest winner’s cock on his own while observers demonstrate on it as a sign of respect. The Dean finally certifies the mount with his on cum.
Many question why such peculiarities in the Mushroom Club. Often Deans attribute the longevity of the club and base concepts to its restrictive and ritualistic approach arguing that “clubs find their members because they understand without being taught.” The archives are full of anonymous stories of members saying the rigid culture of compliance just spoke to them and gave meaning and shape to a previously vague compulsion to join male genitals. There may never be a satisfying answer, but the Mushroom Club continues to recruit.
“There’s no irony lost on a curious fact about MCs. Those with the self-proclaimed ugliest cocks are the most eager to flaunt them. Almost universally throughout MCs far and wide, the Jocks reign supreme on the preen.
Cock preening is ubiquitous in erotic materials from literature to modern media. The ‘stud’ erects his member and flexes, strokes, points, and waves it about in masculine display of dominance. His cock head whether flared or tapered bobs about, attracting the eye and stimulating in his rivals the animal urge to challenge it with superior force and toughness or mark it with one’s own sticky essence. Or maybe he lets it casually swing and bounce while flaccid. Disinterested, unengaged as his tool jiggles about incidentally until ready to engage, penetrate, tussle, and pulse.
To the casual observer, preening in MCs might not look much different than most solo videos on any run-of-the-mill porn site. But to the eye of MC members, the Jock preens with primal instinct, un-choreographed yet fully intentional display of his combined desire and impulse to seek friction and combat. He welcomes the rivals in attendance to embarrass themselves by daring to expose their genitals in his presence.
A Jock’s preen antagonizes as much as it threatens. All aspects of the informal ritual are designed to communicate the fine unique details of the genitals, typically calling attention to the tributaries of veins crawling across their shafts, speaking to literal virility. Jocks grok the deep-seeded response to the texture transition of veins from the states of hooded to unhooded, flaccid to erect, welcoming to menacing. Top tier preeners master incidental contact between cocks. An errant swing grazes the rival’s plugs, or the heads brush each other leaving traces of pre-cum seemingly by mistake. The best in their clubs win through the convincing commitment to indifference as they attempt to upstage. Should their cock be best recognized, it’s by primal consensus.
Their unrelenting grip hardens their rods that to accentuate their vascular members. The perfect wag is essential to show weight, control, and stiffness. A Jock’s wag sets the tone for his cockfight and the energy he will bring to a mount. Usually, it’s a slow, methodical, and vaguely dramatic entry into the rival’s ring. His intent is to prolong the entertainment provided by his conquest, building to the moment of full penetration when his balls sit comfortably against his rival’s with the intent to trigger demonstration (ejaculation) while his shaft rests comfortably inside. They take their time sinking their gnarled inches into their rival as they build to climax for demonstration themselves.
A Jock’s currency is in the picture he paints for the MC as a reliable erectionist with an unbeatable cock.
‘They called us the uglies, so we ran with it. Most of us were never bothered, because we know wherever we go, they can’t take their eyes of these monsters. Think about it—what’s on the walls of every men’s bathroom stall? A drawing of a big veiny cock. They worship us.’ -MC ||//| Dean 11”
Excerpts from “Description of the Pluggers Ritual” originally documented for the SMCA.
“The oldest known ritual, which some believe actually predates simple ‘cockfighting’ itself is the Pluggers Ritual.
In the vast majority of MCs, Pluggers are known to be the top of the food chain, so to speak. Their large, heavy, low-hanging testicles, referred to as ‘plugs’, afford them the highest level of rights and privileges. They are known to preen to an almost absurdly excessive level, tapping into the triggering primality of rampant genital display. The ‘swing and sway’ and play between testes and shaft being critical to evoking the tension between competition and deference at the core of MC rituals and culture.
MC lore and literature is riddled with pluggers, of varying shaft phenotypes, antagonizing rivals with their wild yet seemingly casual swings of the nuts and ‘sack dropping’, a practice in which junior MC members must lie still underneath a plugger while he repeatedly lifts and drops his plugs or otherwise smothers his rivals genitals. The Plugger’s intent is not to humiliate so much as revel in serious but good-natured performative dominance. Pluggers tend to be superior markers, coating their rivals at-will with high volume pumped through endless contractions unmatched by the most experienced Deans. During mounts, Pluggers are careful and deliberate in their pushes to maximize plug-to-plug impact, ensuring rivals feel the size and weight in comparison to their own.
…
“Hence the Pluggers Ritual, sometimes referred to as ‘sacknotting’, is one of special pride to the class as only those with the lowest, most nimble hangers can truly do it justice. During the ritual, two rivals are supported by their Anchors during the cockfight. Anchors kneel on all fours, rear-to-rear on a short platform high enough to elevate their posteriors to their Plugger’s groin. The Pluggers stand face-to-face and ‘plug’ their anchor who cinches his anus firmly around the plugger sack to prevent unintentional withdrawal. Pluggers then engage in the cockfight using various tactics to induce loss or surrender from their rival, the conditions being demonstration (ejaculation), defeat (loss of erection), or withdrawal (plugs exposed from anus).
…
“It is important to note that enlistment as an Anchor is completely voluntary and never subject to member influence.
…
“The victorious plugger will engage in a brief preen, typically highlighting the elasticity of his plugs and strength of his anchor by stretching upward as high as possible without withdrawing. He will then withdraw and drop his plugs onto his Anchor’s as a sign of appreciation. The Anchors then demonstrate on their respective Pluggers. Any other members in attendance will then demonstrate on the Plugger of their preference, irrespective of the winner, though winners typically are more popular unless the MC is divided sharply along classification lines. For example, Stingers are more likely to demonstrate on a Plugger with their own shaft phenotype.
…
“The Plugger appreciates pageantry and skill in equal measure. His cachet is the visual appeal of sex organs manipulated with the perfect balance of self-possession and nonchalance. Rivals’ attention to his tool is a matter of compulsive reverence in response to unbridled maleness. Pluggers’ saunter upon exit is unmistakeable as they revel in the saturation of their plugs with rival cum.”
Cellar |||/|/ is seeking volunteers for a new ritual. Experienced members only.
The cellar has engineered a "two-way hollow sounding device" for rival-to-rival transurethral ejaculate exhange. Initial testing and device integrity has been successful with no negative effects so far. Learn how to fill your rival's cock with your cum. Participants will earn extra points toward promotional consideration. Contests will not effect official competition records. Yes, it's weird, but cellar participants have provided only positive feedback aside from initial discomfort fitting the device.
Interested parties should contact their local Anonymous Mushroom Club Administrator (AxMCAdmin).
"Erectionism has never been about the sex. It's about something a bit different. It taps into our primal nature and sexual comeptition without the degradation. It's about standing proud and going head to head, quite literally, with like-minded men. It's not for everyone and only a select few will be chosen. Those that exercise real discipline, will find themselves rewarded in ways they never imagined. You can't just simply understand it at face value, it either speaks to you or it doesn't. It has to Keep your cock high, balls low, and respect the brotherhood."
The Dean is not happy and neither am I. It's back to basics. Read carefully and stop asking the same questions repeatedly. Follow the rules or the club dissolves.
Can I claim Natural Privilege?
Yes, if you qualify. Fewer than 1% of MCMs qualify and most of those have said it’s not worth it because it defeats the purpose of the club and removes you from consideration for Dean. It’s difficult to attain and most of you don’t have time for it anyway. Quit asking unless you’re serious and can show commitment to the process. Four demonstrations is A LOT more than you think it is.
Nuts high or Nuts low?
Non-pluggers read this repeatedly!!! Nuts high is for challenging and highly disrespectful outside of rituals. Nuts low is neutral or respectful posture. Not the other way around. When in doubt, be relaxed and “leave ‘em low.”
Stop imitating the pluggers. They’re a different breed. Their lineage is at least three times as long as the rest of us, they’re set in their culture, that’s just how it is. Stop following their rituals if you’re not a plugger. They will do a lift and drop if they want your attention.
If I get bagged by a plugger, do I just have to sit there and take it?
Yes and be glad you didn't get plugged by him. Do your best to not cum as it annoys them and they have first right.
Why do I keep getting tented by The Dean during preens?
Because your Dean is tired of the disrespect. Preens are about showmanship and banter. They are not cock fights though skilled preeners can make it look like one. Contact should be light, fleeting, and coy bordering on apologetic. It’s a display more than a competition unless part of a demonstration challenge and even then contact should be more incidental. Show what makes your cock unique.
I keep getting marked because I get hard during the greeting.
If you're new, expect it to happen a lot until you settle down. Discipline.
What is the Hands Rule?
Hands cannot generate the power of a strike or be used to block strikes. This applies to all combat rituals except tapping duels and preens. No touching!
What are the steps of a mount?
Breech
Push
Declare
Demonstrate
You get 7 pushes maximum. Period. No exceptions. Only two internal pulses are allowed. All subsequent pulses must be external, that is, “demonstrated” for the MC. Complete insemination is a violation and you will be punished. Don’t bring your personal issues and lifestyle is to the club. You know who you are.
Why is everything so damn tedious and cryptic?
You know why. It’s what brought you here in the first place. MC is not and should not be for everyone.
Why is my MC so boring. Are they all like this?
See above. MCs are about discipline and control among a select few committed to bonding through ertotic competition. As much as I hate the term, we're supposed to be "cock nerds."
“I had my ‘aha’ moment a few rituals after initiation. The Dean saw me being stubborn and arrogant, and I had already been warned by more senior members about the difference between rules and culture. I was damn proud of my cock and wasn’t afraid to show it. That was the whole point right?
“The next thing I know, the Dean poked his stinger right between my balls at the base of my shaft. They called the technique ‘tenting’. It was the strangest feeling as he leaned forward and I could feel his tapered glans driving deeper in to my sack and pressing into a strange negative space. He pulsed his stinger a few times and I felt myself cum and immediately go limp. He kept me pinned until my immediate rival took his place.
“My rival was a flare with a much bigger glans. My balls ached as I tried to get comfortable with the pressure, but my sack was too stretched. I had to stay there until all other rivals had coated my shaft. It was then I understood the brotherhood.”
