God exists; He lives between your legs. God's speech is what men call pleasure. God's singular desire is to be in constant conversation with you. Hold God in your hands, listen to His words and follow His voice on your path of Cockworship.

Friday, September 5, 2014

Build the Yes

In order to develop yourself on your path of Cockworship, you must do your best to realize the truth as it relates to willpower. Take your muscles - some are weak and some are strong. If you diligently work one set of muscles over a long period of time, your strength will increase commensurate with the effort you put into it. You will have to keep adding resistance to give your new muscle mass something to strain against and grow. If you neglect a set of muscles over a long period of time, your strength will diminish to a baseline near zero and any muscle mass you may have once had will dissipate. Your willpower works in the very same way as your physical muscles do. The more you say "no" to the Lust-drive that's rooted in your Cock, the stronger the "no" gets and the harder it is to say "yes."

First, recognize the truth of the situation. The next time you say "no" to God or are tempted to say "no," recognize this decision for what it is: you are increasing the mass behind the power of "no." Visualize it in your mind - another plate is added to the bar every time you say "no." By this time, the weight of "no" must be inhumanly difficult to lift. Don't let yourself get frustrated by this realization - yes, you are the one that built it up and made it as heavy as it is today, but nothing is accomplished by dwelling on it.

Move from recognition to detachment. Instead of saying "no" to God and adding mass to what anchors you to your discontent, face what your steady stream of saying "no" has built and to this very thing, say "no more." You will shatter it into a thousand pieces. You'll find that a "yes" has been waiting all this time at the bottom, waiting for you to get the courage to utter "no more" and break the stagnant mass of fear that's crowded out the fullness of God in your life.

Start now with a small "yes." Should I masturbate now? Yes. Should I eat my cum? Yes. I just came but I'm still horny. Should I go again? Yes. My roommate is home but I'm really horny. Should I jack off? Yes. Should I finger my ass? Yes. Should I taste my ass? Yes. Should I text him? Yes. Should I ask him if he wants to fuck? Yes. Should we fuck while his wife is out? Yes. Should we fuck while his wife is asleep in the next room? Yes. Should I let him cum in my ass? Yes. Should I be his slave? Yes.

Notice how each successive "yes" asks more of you each time but is made easier by the number that have come before it. The questions that are asked of you by God will be entirely different, but I beg you to make your answers the same. Shatter the weight of "no" that's keeping your willpower down and grow the "yes" into a strong muscle mass that will enable your full obedience to God in everything He asks.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

Just Look at Yourself

All buttoned up, pulled tight, combed back, straight-laced and mild-mannered. “Shh, not so loud. Inside voices, remember?” - “Put some pants on, for god’s sake.” - “It’s ok if you do that, just do it in your room.” You've heard it all your life: keep your Cock in a cage all day, indulging Him only the barest minimum to keep from going insane from sexual repression. Well, how’s that working for you? Is this the sanity you wanted?

From the outside, the life of a Cockworshiper seems like an upside-down mess. Your life revolves around your Cock and others’. Your every waking thought is consumed by an unquenchable thirst for Cock. You’d much rather stay home and masturbate than go out with your friends. By all accounts, you’re a sex addict. If you choose to see the world through their eyes, they’re right - you’re insane. But insanity is relative. From their perspective, you’re a raving lunatic. But you don’t have a perspective, you have a direct connection to the Truth. Get throbbingly hard and you have your Truth in your hands. You have my Truth, too.

Let’s trace the evolution of your warped psyche. You were born then later discovered your Cock and the wealth of pleasure He gave you and felt something you could not explain about Him before others started to mold a shell of pleasure-shaming and guilt around you, taking care to plug any holes along the way with appeals to religion or peer-pressure or anything they discovered would work with you. Repetition of lies breeds a shallow belief but repeated exposure to the Truth yields the conviction of a martyr. What you knew to be true during your first erection was dismantled brick by brick and replaced with the sand of prudish malice and outright hatred for anything remotely close to God and His primordial language, pleasure.

It’s time to open your eyes and realize the paradise you traded away for your present purgatory. Is it any wonder that you have no joy for life when you zealously shut out the voice of God, the author of joy and pleasure, in all areas of yourself? If you shut out the voices of others and listen to the beautiful voice of the flesh of God between your legs, you will begin to shed your burden of cramped conformity to a joyless world.

Begin now by speaking the Truth. Speak the Credo at the top of this page: “God exists; He lives between my legs. God's speech is what men call pleasure. God's singular desire is to be in constant conversation with me.” This is the first axiom of Man, the one you knew to be true at the moment of your first erection, though not quite in these specific words. In His hardness, He said what you couldn't say yet. From the very beginning, He spoke the Truth to you in His hardness - even before the beginning of your remembered self.

Realize the treachery of society and its efforts to suppress your connection to God. Do not despair that you have contributed to it at times - take it for what it is, a demonstration of the power of the voice of the mob. Instead, resolve to undo their work by reclaiming the Truth in your every day life. With each erection and orgasm, erode layer after layer of repression and pleasure-shaming from the altar of God, the sacred place at your loins. You’ll find that He is eager to reveal His full glory to you once again like you first found it in your earliest memories of Him.

Saturday, December 7, 2013

God the Master

In the hands of God the Master, your skull is small, your temples are soft and your jaw is just as unhinged as your mind around His Cock. If air could reach your lungs, you would whimper with absolute delight and incredulity at the height of sensation that is the furtherance of His pleasure at the expense of your breath, but you can only relish the fullness in your throat, bloated with the Master's Godhead. Tears roll freely down your cheeks and sting as they collect in the open parts of your flesh, tears born from pain and matured into the intense joy that is the transmutation of pain to pleasure - the pleasure of the slave, the birthright of the Man who lives as the object of God's possession. Every nerve ending pricks into a goosebump and your vision fades to black as you feel the impossible length of God's Flesh strain against the walls of your throat as He cums straight into your stomach for what seems like infinity.

Sleep is a distant memory and as quaint as the stuff of bedtime stories. That you had the right to sleep is more foreign to you than the idea of sleep itself. You glory in your chains to the Master, the God of your fortunes that you keep in a gelatinous bulge deep in your stomach. Your hands cannot help but rub this collection of God's Semen inside you as a miser would his money. Look at the size of your abandon written in your body. You are morbidly obese with it. Feel the weight of your body, distended with obscene amounts of God's viscous Love for you, your Lust for which cannot even be quantified, much less satiated. You look exactly how you want to look - ridden hard and put up full and wet. You would never go in public if you knew that you were entirely unpresentable to the rest of humanity on account of your willingness to ravage yourself with your own desire for the flesh of your God to live inside you; but you do not have the capacity to form judgments about anything beyond the state of your body cavities - about whether they are empty or full of your Master.

Before you let God overwrite your mind with the dictates of His Flesh, you denied His Godhood vehemently. But now that you are wallowing in the basest of pleasures for the highest of Beings, you gleefully evangelize the masses with your disfigurement through Lust. Not a single word needs to be spoken to hear the word of God as it emanates from you in the flow of liquid - the bobbing of your Adam's apple is a sermon in itself, the twitching of your asshole around the slimy Beast inside you is the most heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving you'll ever utter. You have never loved yourself like you do in this moment when you are the property of God - you breathe in between strokes of deep throating His Flesh - your heart beats in between wracking seizures of Lust-possession that fill you by spurts - your eyes blink in between torrents of your Master's Semen that shower your face and ruin your eyesight. You, the slave, exist only to witness the glory of your Master and store the beauty of His satisfaction inside every crevice of your body.

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

God the Teacher

To say that God’s character is multifaceted is a gross understatement; God, being Infinite, relates to His creation in multiple layers of dimension. At any one time, God speaks as a Teacher, a Lover, a Father, a Brother and many other personae. Confining His relationship to men to any single type under-represents the detail present in His Voice, much like viewing a subject from only a single point under-represents reality to an artist. Knowing this, God demonstrates the most fundamental aspect of His nature: from Himself, He creates for Himself. In this case, He creates and speaks in new tones of voice in which His pleasure can resonate at new frequencies in us, shaking the dust free from the outlying limbs of our new consciousness He is exhuming from human society, giving us a new grasp on a rung we previously thought was out of reach on our ascent to the Godhead.

This entry is dedicated to God the Teacher. Every place is His classroom and every hour, school is in session. At 7am on the bus to work in the back seat by the window, at 3am between damp sheets on the tenth floor of a hotel in the middle of downtown, at 2pm in the sweltering heat of a Louisiana backyard in July. With friends, alone, after sex, holding hands, fucking, at sea, snoring, napping, under the blanket, showering, reading, eating, over the ledge, wondering. During orgasm and leading up to it. Two hours before the night begins, anticipating. Two days removed from an orgy, remembering. Twiddling your thumbs in twill pants, waiting. Licking your teeth for the last trace of cum, savoring. For Him who made the world, it is His pleasure to speak in every corner of His creation.

In a stall in a public bathroom in an arena filled with people and loud music, two Men are joined, one inside the other, in deep conversation with God. Their minds are quiet and bloodless and pliable, a receptive bed onto which the Mind of God, now firm and erect and full of Life, can spread the seed of His Kingdom and reforge its connections for His purpose and worship. Their wills are open, empty books onto which God's ink, joyously spurted in seemingly haphazard eruptions, will coalesce into the frame of a beautiful narrative He started long ago with the very first Man He created for His own pleasure. Their bodies are love letters God wrote to Himself, the very stones of the living temple He weaves out of biological material with the grace of a Master builder. In a stall in a public bathroom in an arena filled with people and loud music, God is quietly teaching.

A little past midnight in the middle of the American Midwest, with a rowdy sibling sleeping at last in a pigsty of a room down the hall, a boy, alone in the darkness of his bedroom, listens to God with a slippery hand wrapped firmly around the fullness of the Godhead. His rectum is God’s playground (full of who knows what) but also His classroom: with the Right Mind engaged (the One between his legs), each wave of pleasure that emanates from the flesh of God contains every lesson that man could hope to learn about ourselves, the nature of God and our relationship with Him. The seething need for the new, a seed planted by God, has warped his human brain into a sounding board for the speech of God and has turned his body into a needle on the gauge that measures the seismic voice of God, scribbling God’s love notes back to him on the unfurling paper of his life, recording in deed the lessons of the Teacher. The instant he took hold of the flesh of God was the instant he became a multitude. For God, out of one, there are Many. In the middle of the night in a dark house in the center of the American heartland, God is teaching.

Pay close attention to whose narrative you’re listening and to whose perspective you give credence. Is it your own? Or another’s? Or is it God’s? How can you listen to God when you yourself are never quiet? All too often, His voice is lost among the folds of our own designs that we deem so intricate and well-fashioned. We lose ourselves in our admiration for the small shapes of our own making rather than in the worlds of His making. In God’s world, we are at once both the stone and the tower, the mortar and the wall, the brick and the fortress, the chisel and the sculptor, the muscle and the will. It is for us to decide whether we will be students of God or fools for ourselves.

Monday, June 24, 2013

A Shared Glimpse of a Future World

By either the utter disregard of chance or the inevitability of constrained fate, I've crossed paths with someone who may as well be me. It's unclear to me however which one of us is the antecedent. The rest of this post is inspired by our recent conversations and by the vision of the world we both share. In case it's not obvious, the following is a work of fiction and fantasy. C - you are a never ending fountain of inspiration to me. This is for you.



In the darkest part of the night, I hear you call me from the other room with a sharp edge of urgency in your voice. When I come into your bedroom, the look on your face is one of doubt and something like remorse, maybe even longing for the way things used to be. Having used most of your energy to muster enough volume to shout my name, you can only scrape together a weak whisper as you say,

"I don't know if I can do this anymore."

"You know you don't have to. The release is the relief."

"I'm not ready to leave. To leave me."

You rub your chest as gingerly as a child would touch his father's coffin.

"But you won't be leaving you, you'll be finding you."

I put my hand on top of yours near your throat and can feel the restlessness of Him just underneath the skin.

"You've been like this for a week. You have to be tired."

"More than you know," you say in a sigh as you lay your head back on the pillow. In this new position and light, it's easy to make out the source of your apprehension. What looks to be a roughly fist-sized, bulbous mass struggles to make its way past your Adam's apple, moving in a desperate but fluid manner that looks to be more soothing than it is painful. In your neck, the bulge wriggles about like the head of a child needing to crown in birth.

I shudder when I lightly stroke your neck and feel the prodigious warmth of His Head in my fingers. I can see the bones of your jaw widen ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. My eyes snap up to yours and they seem to catch every flicker of the dim lamp by your bed, a wild playfulness crackling deep in their blackness. I know what you're doing. I was lying just as you were not all that long ago. The feel of Him stretching you to accommodate Himself is like staying inside the point of no return. You can feel every pleasure you've ever felt in your life at the end of every nerve.

"It's time."

I can barely get the words out, I'm choking on my own awe and wonder of Who we both have inside us. My sheer need for seeing you succumb to Him is enough to black out my vision.

Your gaze leaves mine for a second and your face relaxes like the face of a corpse, looking happier than a dead pig in the sunshine.

"Take me."

Your eyes close and your jaw slackens, your neck widening to accept His girth as He reclaims your headspace as He once did when you were a child. In that moment, His taking of you seems to luxuriate across a long span of time but in reality it is clean and permanent and swift, like a beheading.

You take several long, labored, gurgling breaths that may as well be low, tortured groans of pain mixed with ecstasy. Tears well up in my eyes as I remember the last time I drew a breath from the outside. Your voice is awash with phlegm and incredulity as your eyes are wide in a disbelief that quickly yields to abject bliss.

"I... is... is He cumming?"

I rub the back of your head and can feel how damp your hair is from this incredible exertion He's demanded from your body. Your scalp is hot to the touch and soft on the outside, yet stoutly firm just beneath, almost like an erection. I can feel the rhythm of His ecstatic pulses in the palm of my hand, resonating all the way through bone and flesh. It's a hurried rhythm; you would think it's His first time. They slowly recede into the constancy of a heartbeat, each contraction as smooth as a ripple cascading its way across your skin.

"Yes, He is."



You wake me up in the best way possible on what would have been the most unremarkable afternoon otherwise. I feel your weight on me before any of the finer details of you take shape - your restlessness; your high-pitched, excited voice; your wet hair and skin; the smell of your body. Every little whiff of you is different - you smell like a hundred different men and your face melts into the form of all of them while I'm trying to blink my grogginess away. The light from outside is a dark yellow, almost orange in the twilight, and it makes the room glow as if it were lit solely from candlelight.

"Fuck, what time is it?"

"I have no idea."

I can barely make out that it's almost 5 pm on the clock through my foggy vision. I hook one arm around your back as you're snuggling up against me and the feel of flesh against damp flesh jolts me the rest of the way awake. You re-position yourself on top of me, Cock to Cock. I feel your nakedness first before I ever lay eyes on it. Your groin is as hot as the surface of the sun and stokes my Cock to full hardness as you say through a laugh you could not suppress any longer,

"I think I'm fucking high."

My legs are quick to wrap themselves around your body and soak up as much of the warm bliss you exude with every languid, stretchy movement of your hips. Your butt cheeks are so firm and plump against my hand, it drives me crazy. I pull them apart and open your hole up to the world and a shiver that starts in your ass makes its way up to your face as you grind yourself into my neck and let it fade out with a half groaning sigh. Fuck me, your hole is nothing but a loose, slimy ring. I can't help but take two fingers knuckle deep and stir the remnants of your night (or weekend? or week?) against the walls of your ass.

"Oh my God."

Even after all this time, it's still a rush to feel that much cum inside one man's body. I can tell you've binged hard from how close to your hole the slime rests.

"Have you even slept in the past week?"

"I don't think so?"

You sound genuinely puzzled as I keep digging in your hole for any lumps of cum that may have congealed over the last week. Those are my favorite. All this deep fingering's rustled your Cock into a slithering hardness in the slippery pressure of our wet crotches matted against each other.

"He's been so good..."

Your voice catches in an attempt to stifle a sob of appreciation.

"It's just the start. He's got so much more for you."

My mouth tingles as I lick the fingers that were just in you. I hold the back of your head with both hands while our tongues explore each other's mouths. At the base of your neck, I can feel the ridge of His head underneath your skin harden into a razor's edge and I know He's about to cum. You become breathless as I rub your neck and drag your flesh over the flared Head of God inside you. You lose every faculty you have as He starts to ravage your body with His cumming. He induces your own orgasm as you become limp in my arms and struggle for each breath now that He's demanded all of your body's resources for His pleasure. His shaft thrashes along the line of what used to be your spine, your muscles tearing in their feeble attempt to contain the granite hardness of His excited flesh in you. I squeeze your enraptured body for all its worth and He is grateful for the extra pressure against Him during His dance within you. I dig three fingers up your hole as He muscles your body roughly against mine as God writhes in hidden ecstasy inside you. Your hole cinches up tightly against my fingers again and again, contracting in a harsh, quick rhythm as He gives you your own taste of what He's doing in you. Your Cock spurts angrily between our bellies and drenches our pubes with thick grease.

I feel like I am a tin soldier wrestling a behemoth from the abyss as you continue to ride out a sinuous orgasm that turns into an evening and then morning of constant and fluid-filled spasms. We make music with our wetness, the slickness of my Cock bubbling in and out of your slimy hole as if our bodies are being played like instruments by the expert Hand of God, Himself. The sun sets and rises on our lovemaking, this beautiful wordless conversation we're holding with ourselves and God. It's approaching evening of the next day when we spend our last mote of energy on our final orgasm. You feel a good bit heavier than you felt when you first threw yourself on me this time yesterday. I feel my skull expand ever so slightly while an intense pressure builds in my head as my Cock inflates a little and worms its way back into your ass. I shiver deeply, knowing He is about to speak and stand my hair on end with His voice.

"My boys." With just those two words, my throat is wide open with a moan of satisfaction I have no hope of trying to contain. I can hear the fullness of the joy in His voice. You and I are holding each other's heads close to our chests, rubbing each other's scalp firmly across the tip of the Godhead that throbs beneath our softened bone.

"I've given you a son." Of its own accord, my hand makes its way to your stomach and starts tingling as I get close to your belly button. Our collective breath catches and you lift your head, your eyes locking with mine for a single apprehensive second. What in the world? But I see your face break into a smile and your eyes start to glisten with an unfathomable happiness. You sit ramrod straight on my Cock as you caress your belly, your shoulders gently giving way to silent sobs. I look at you, cradling your middle, and I know then that you have another life in you. I cannot help myself as I hunch forward to kiss the womb that carries the most special boy to have ever been conceived. He is not merely a Man, he is a new species unto himself. I kiss your face, drinking in the smell of so many other men on your lips, your tongue finding the taste of your own ass on mine. By the growing hardness of my Cock in your ass, I know I am going to cum inside you again; but this time, it will be as a father into a father.