epicmogger123
mtn schizocel
- Joined
- Feb 8, 2025
- Posts
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@Clavicular @Zeta
The gym was silent, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional clank of a weight settling into place. It was late, way past the usual hours when the looksmax.org crew would flex their progress in the mirror or debate bone structure on the forums. Tonight, it was just Clavicular, Zeta, and CookieKing, lingering after a heated “mog battle” thread had spilled over into real life.
Clavicular leaned against a rack of dumbbells, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, his signature high-trust face catching the light just right. “You really think your leanmaxxing beats my frame, Zeta?” he teased, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his fitted tank top. His voice carried that cocky edge, the kind that made forum newbies swoon and niggers cry for help.
Zeta (PSL god) smirked from across the room. His eyes, enhanced by those blue aryan colored contacts, glinted with a predatory intensity. “Bhai, I mog you to oblivion. Look at this cheekbone definition.” He tilted his head, striking a pose that screamed Instagram influencer. The air around him practically vibrated with the confidence of a man who’d ascended from normie to near-Chad status. “Tinder doesn’t lie, bro.”
CookieKing, sprawled on a bench press, chuckled darkly. His hair, freshly styled to perfection, glistened under the gym’s harsh lighting. “You two are cute, arguing over who’s the prettiest princess. Meanwhile, I’m out here slaying foids with raw charisma.” He sat up, his lean frame taut, his gaze darting between the other two like a challenge. “Why don’t we settle this properly?”
The air thickened, charged with the kind of tension that could only exist between three guys obsessed with outdoing each other in every metric of attractiveness. Clavicular stepped closer, his breath hitching slightly as he sized up Zeta’s chiseled features. “What’s your play, Cookie? Another poll? Or something… closer?”
Zeta raised an eyebrow, closing the distance until he was inches from Clavicular. “Careful, Clav. You’re sounding like you want to get real personal.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a spark in his eyes that wasn’t just about winning a forum thread.
CookieKing stood, sauntering over with the swagger of someone who knew he was being watched. “Why not both?” he said, his tone dripping with mischief. He reached out, playfully nudging Zeta’s shoulder, then let his hand linger just a second too long. “Let’s see who’s got the real appeal. No cameras, no TikTok, just us.”
The gym felt smaller now, the space between them electric. Clavicular’s smirk faltered, his eyes flicking between Zeta’s intense stare and CookieKing’s cocky grin. “You’re both frauds,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, and he didn’t step back. Instead, he leaned in, close enough to feel the heat radiating off Zeta’s skin.
Zeta’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Fraud? Hell yea. And this is prime material.” He tilted his head, his breath brushing Clavicular’s ear. “You scared you can’t keep up?”
CookieKing laughed, stepping behind Clavicular, his hands ghosting over the other man’s shoulders. “He’s scared. Look at him, all bloated from bulking. Bet I mog you both in a lean-off.”
The challenge hung in the air, a mix of rivalry and something deeper, unspoken but undeniable. They weren’t just flexing muscles or aesthetics anymore; this was a different kind of contest, one that didn’t need a poll or a thread to decide the winner. The gym mirrors reflected three silhouettes, closer now, their shadows merging under the dim lights.
“Alright,” Clavicular said, his voice husky, a rare crack in his usual bravado. “Let’s see who’s really top-tier.”
And as the night stretched on, the lines between competition and connection blurred, each of them pushing to prove something—not just to the looksmax.org community, but to each other.
TLDR: mog off in gym, gay porn
The gym was silent, save for the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional clank of a weight settling into place. It was late, way past the usual hours when the looksmax.org crew would flex their progress in the mirror or debate bone structure on the forums. Tonight, it was just Clavicular, Zeta, and CookieKing, lingering after a heated “mog battle” thread had spilled over into real life.
Clavicular leaned against a rack of dumbbells, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, his signature high-trust face catching the light just right. “You really think your leanmaxxing beats my frame, Zeta?” he teased, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his fitted tank top. His voice carried that cocky edge, the kind that made forum newbies swoon and niggers cry for help.
Zeta (PSL god) smirked from across the room. His eyes, enhanced by those blue aryan colored contacts, glinted with a predatory intensity. “Bhai, I mog you to oblivion. Look at this cheekbone definition.” He tilted his head, striking a pose that screamed Instagram influencer. The air around him practically vibrated with the confidence of a man who’d ascended from normie to near-Chad status. “Tinder doesn’t lie, bro.”
CookieKing, sprawled on a bench press, chuckled darkly. His hair, freshly styled to perfection, glistened under the gym’s harsh lighting. “You two are cute, arguing over who’s the prettiest princess. Meanwhile, I’m out here slaying foids with raw charisma.” He sat up, his lean frame taut, his gaze darting between the other two like a challenge. “Why don’t we settle this properly?”
The air thickened, charged with the kind of tension that could only exist between three guys obsessed with outdoing each other in every metric of attractiveness. Clavicular stepped closer, his breath hitching slightly as he sized up Zeta’s chiseled features. “What’s your play, Cookie? Another poll? Or something… closer?”
Zeta raised an eyebrow, closing the distance until he was inches from Clavicular. “Careful, Clav. You’re sounding like you want to get real personal.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was a spark in his eyes that wasn’t just about winning a forum thread.
CookieKing stood, sauntering over with the swagger of someone who knew he was being watched. “Why not both?” he said, his tone dripping with mischief. He reached out, playfully nudging Zeta’s shoulder, then let his hand linger just a second too long. “Let’s see who’s got the real appeal. No cameras, no TikTok, just us.”
The gym felt smaller now, the space between them electric. Clavicular’s smirk faltered, his eyes flicking between Zeta’s intense stare and CookieKing’s cocky grin. “You’re both frauds,” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, and he didn’t step back. Instead, he leaned in, close enough to feel the heat radiating off Zeta’s skin.
Zeta’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Fraud? Hell yea. And this is prime material.” He tilted his head, his breath brushing Clavicular’s ear. “You scared you can’t keep up?”
CookieKing laughed, stepping behind Clavicular, his hands ghosting over the other man’s shoulders. “He’s scared. Look at him, all bloated from bulking. Bet I mog you both in a lean-off.”
The challenge hung in the air, a mix of rivalry and something deeper, unspoken but undeniable. They weren’t just flexing muscles or aesthetics anymore; this was a different kind of contest, one that didn’t need a poll or a thread to decide the winner. The gym mirrors reflected three silhouettes, closer now, their shadows merging under the dim lights.
“Alright,” Clavicular said, his voice husky, a rare crack in his usual bravado. “Let’s see who’s really top-tier.”
And as the night stretched on, the lines between competition and connection blurred, each of them pushing to prove something—not just to the looksmax.org community, but to each other.
TLDR: mog off in gym, gay porn
