Tyrell Brickley is an ex-con and a die-hard Blood.
Description
He got bigger in prison. He ain’t even really mean to, but there ain’t jack-shit to do there but lift weights and wag about ladies, so now Tyrell’s thickbody felt like a ugly shell surrounding the handsome young man who got arrested years ago… He been heavyset — he was a champion football player before his arrest — but in prison he got stacked like a iron rack, and he moved like his heft ain’t all fit on him, like his skeleton struggled to keep up with his muscles. His wide, powerful ass was wedged into the tight boxers he brought out from prison with him.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
Tyrell was a popular local football star before his arrest, so the chicks kept coming. He could at least get a handjob, often a blowjob, in the visitation room, as long as he kept it low-key. But after about six months, the visitations decreased, and Tyrell discovered it was impossible to remain a popular local football star if you was neither local nor a football player no more. His girlfriends eventually stopped coming to see him entirely, and soon enough, they even stopped taking his (very expensive) phone calls. Tyrell was popular when he got to prison, with girls begging for a chance to see him, a lawyer promising fruitful appeals and a gang (the Bloods) welcoming him with open arms. But now that lawyer be saying only that the appeal ain’t fruitful and sent him a bill. The gang steady gave him tasks that was difficult, dangerous and not at all fun. And the girls stopped coming by entirely. So Tyrell was alone, surrounded by his Blood comrades yet lonesome like a lost sheep.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
Tyrell Brickley was lifting weights at work. Lipsweet maintained a gym, locker room and shower for the bouncers to use. Mr. Gregarian wanted his bouncers to keep fit and strong, and he knew that, if the club had a reputation for bouncers hanging out there all the time, troublemakers would be more apt to stay away. That was important because Mr. Gregarian sometimes stored large amounts of drugs, guns, pornography, illegal immigrants, etc., there. The well-known presence of bouncers lifting weights in their off time hopefully kept away holdup boys, even during the days and mornings when the club was closed.
The gym was small and cramped, but Tyrell preferred working out there to a real gym. There were women at a commercial gym, which meant he couldn’t workout shirtless, or even in shorts and a sleeveless shirt at some gyms, because it would scare off the nice women. They didn’t let you hit on women at normal gyms.
He didn’t mind Tyrell’s rock-hard biceps though. He was so firm he was like a sculpture, a warm, meaty sculpture that smelled of coconut lotion and shea butter, strongly enough to overwhelm the yeasty toilet-hooch scent that filled the backa the narrow cell… Tyrell was easily the biggest swinging dick in the cell. And he had the biggest swinging dick in the cell, probably the whole prison. It was like a cricket bat between his legs, and it was fat and juicy. Desmond used to sit and play with it for hours while Tyrell dozed or lifted weights or sold toilet hooch.
From Desmond Seeks Alphas
One of the ex-cons came outta the bathroom then, wearing just a towel — Tyrell, a big-ass Blood with a hard face, taciturn eyes and a thousand tales in the tats across his muscles
Tyrell bin getting bigger cuz he spent lotta time in that steel cage lifting pillowcases filled with canned peaches, and he done growed from a big-ass nigga to a pecan powerhouse of steel. He was well past six and a half feet tall and built like a steamship, with a big bulging chest as hard as iron and smokestack arms… Tyrell got a six-pack and everything — he struggled to get enough food in prison, since he ate so much. He spent a lot of his money on food in the last two weeks — he bin saving it so he wouldn’t run out, and when his release date came closer, he splurged. So he done gained fifteen pounds in those two weeks, and he could feel it straining his skin. He worked out every day during his incarceration and ain’t had enough protein to grow to his max capacity, until he bought all them canned sardines and his triceps, shoulders and thighs expanded.
From Tyrell the Mandingo
Tyrell bin getting bigger cuz he spent lotta time in that steel cage lifting pillowcases filled with canned peaches, and he done growed from a big-ass nigga to a pecan powerhouse of steel. He was well past six and a half feet tall and built like a steamship, with a big bulging chest as hard as iron and smokestack arms.
From Tyrell the Mandingo
Tyrell was muscular as anyone Desmond had ever seen in person. He had a perfect body, and he didn’t mind Desmond touching him — the others did too, niggas were all over Tyrell most days. Tyrell was handsome like a rapper… He was so firm he was like a sculpture, a warm, meaty sculpture that smelled of coconut lotion and shea butter.
From Desmond Seeks Alphas
He was a younger man then though, and he ain’t look as tough as he did now. Back then he got a smooth face and a voice like molten butter, and he was big enough that the girlies got they booties bothered but not so big that he made them scurry away like snitty cockroaches.
Now he was too big. Now, he did make them scurry away.
Being poor and low on the dole was exhilarating and hot for a young buck. But Tyrell ain’t a young buck no more. He could still smile like a fool, but he was too old, too big and too rough to chat up nice girls on the street. His face got harder — he was still round-faced and decked in dimples, but he got this hard-edged piggish look now. His muscles was perky and smooth and young before, heavy but grippable. Now he was rigid and harsh like a stack of lead weights that don’t fit in they rack.
He told himself that wasn’t permanent. It was only cuz he just got released yesterday. He still had a prison-starved aura, he thought. Nice girl-folk could sense that. He still smiled up nice. He still had all the qualities that ladies liked before. He just needed to blow a nut in a female, he decided. Once he was relaxed, he’d be able to toss game just like high school.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
The most important thing was to find a female, to know that prison ain’t ruint him like a old head with institution on the brain, always on the lookout for someone to give him permission to piss. He wasn’t like that, like Thumper, this old nigga he met in prison, he was a prison-thickened nigga, and Tyrell been telling hisself since he met him that he would never be like Thumper.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
Tyrell smelled like copper wire in a puddle.
From Tyrell the Ex-Con
The man was tall and muscular, tattooed, dark-skinned, with short hair and a handsome face… Tyrell was younger, sexier, bigger-cocked, better-in-bed and just plain more charming. He was better in every way than her ex-husband.
Tyrell was not cute like a teenager like Davon was. Tyrell looked a little meaner, a lot tougher, a bit older. But he was nice like Buck, maybe even nicer — he wasn’t friendly like Davon, but Tyrell was nice enough to talk to. And he had giant arms like Buck, and creamy brown skin with a bunch of faded prison tats.
So Simon waited until Tyrell had a spare moment, after two o’clock in the morning on a busy Friday night. Tyrell was by the door, checking IDs, broad chest filling out his shirt. He had big fleshy arms, the biceps stretching the fabric of his button-down shirt. He grunted at each patron, not talking to them like Davon did.
The black one was Tyrell, and he was cute, like he should be an older brother in a Disney movie. He’d seem tough but he’d bust out homespun big-bro wisdom.
From Dubcon Alphas
The cuckolding mandingo was tall, dark-skinned and heavily tattooed. He had a scruffy chin, and he wore a Baltimore Ravens baseball hat cocked sideways on his head. His loose jeans were around his ankles. His heavy body jiggled in rolling, undulating waves as he fucked Deborah, each muscle moving in sync with the others as though it took every muscle in his body to plow her.
Books
Tyrell the Mandingo: Tyrell is outta prison again, and he’s back to Baltimore. He hopes to nab some women, but he just might end up getting down and dirty with men instead. He’s desperate to ensure nobody sees him as a booty bandit, even if that’s exactly what prison life turned him into, so he’ll get his rocks off one way or another! Can he keep his booty-bandit secret and still get his jollies off?!
Tyrell the Ex-Con: Tyrell is outta prison again, and he’s gonna do what it takes to survive these mean streets… even if that means giving a pounding! He’s been locked up a long time, so he’s learned a thing or two that just might shock any fool who’s never been inside. But can he make the transition to free life?
