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.