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    • TheWeremuscleForest
      Andrew was talked into going to what some of his personal friends have said is a very unusual restaurant. His friends, who shall remain nameless for the time being, told him how amazingly great the food was, and that the service from the staff was keen on keeping them satisfied. What they didn’t know though was that the restaurant was picking and choosing certain patrons to try and experiment with their secret recipes and experimentations.  After spending a few minutes at the bar in the restaurant, he and his good friend Terrence chatted with the hunky bartender about random goings on in the world. They both remarked at how incredibly well-built and friendly all the guys there are, and how they don’t seem to care how skinny both himself and his brownish-skinned friend are. Eventually, Andrew notices that most of the people that were dining in the restaurant have left. Terrence asks the bartender if they need to leave as well, but they are both reassured that things are going as planned, which seems a bit odd to both young friends.  Terrence is then approached by a few members of the restaurant staff and is asked a couple of questions. It appears that they are wanting him to try out some of the new recipes that they are developing for additions to their menu. Andrew admits that he is a bit jealous that they went to his friend first, but one of the buff staff members smiles and quickly invites him to come along as well. The two skinny men look at each other and agree to the proposition and are ushered into the back of the restaurant.  They are surprised to see that there is another table set up for people to sit at and eat. The three men that are with them pulls the two chairs out for them to sit in, as well as one for one of the staff members. He sits directly left from where Terrence is sitting, while Andrew sits to his African American friends right. The man, who clearly spends a great deal of time in the gym, is well tanned and is wearing a pair of grey slacks and a white shirt underneath his restaurant attire, looks as if he could burst free from his clothing at any given moment. His giant arms leave nothing to the imagination as their huge veins can be seen beneath the fabric of his shirt.  He has a thick reddish beard and is incredibly handsome. He tells them both to sit down so he can start going over the itinerary for the evening.  “Hello my friends. Well, I hope we can be friends. My name is Bryson Chambliss. I will be your host tonight. You have both been selected to taste a few of the new recipes that we are testing out for our menu that may or may not be added in the future. I hope you are both hungry.”  Both young men shake their heads yes in unison and mumble under their breaths about how they really like Bryson’s British accent.  “That is good to hear. The chefs here at Myostatin Grill wanted to catch you both before you ordered something already on the menu.”  The man signals for the other two beefcakes to leave the room. Andrew and Terrence look at each other again with a puzzled look on their faces. Andrew starts asking questions.  “So, what exactly are we taste testing? Is this something that we should be concerned about, health wise? I don’t want to end up in the hospital after this.”  Bryson lets out a low grunt.  “I don’t think you will have anything to worry about, what is your name mate?”  “Andrew Mason.”  “Ahh Andrew. Is it okay if I can call you Drew? It suits you much better.”  “I suppose that is alright.”  “Perfect!”  The two friends are calmed down by his laid-back attitude and they both clearly find him very attractive. The man hasn’t taken his eyes off Terrence this whole time except to address Andrew with his questions.  “And what is your name, mate?”  Bryson stares into Terrence’s eyes and smiles.  “Umm...Terrence Garrett.”  “Nice to meet you, Terrence. What is a nickname that I can call you by?”  The lanky 5’7 black 23-year-old looks at him in confusion.  “Uh...I don’t know. My friends call me Deron.”  “OH! I really like that name mate. I will call you that from now on. My name is Bryson. The taste testing will begin soon enough for you both.”  After a few more minutes of random chatter between the two young men, two members of the kitchen staff bring out two trays with appetizers on them. The men are asked what they would like to try from the trays, and both agree that they would be interested in the chicken wings. Bryson smiles at his staff and shakes his head yes, before saying to the two unsuspecting guinea pigs,  “I think you will both like these quite a bit.”  The wings are put on small plates and put in front of them. They are asked what they would prefer to drink and are given water for Andrew and Terrence asks for an energy drink, which gets a rather muted response from the British server. The young black man then decides that he will get a water as well. Bryson starts talking again, as the kitchen staff return to the back once again.  “I don’t know how you both like your wings, but I think you will both notice a slight difference in the taste. Eating proteins can sometimes lead to some very interesting sensations after a few minutes of digestion. This is why we need you to be honest with your assessments of the recipes that we use here.”  Before we move forward with the story, I want to point out that Andrew is wearing a long-sleeved white polo shirt, blue jeans, black belt, a pair of boxers, black socks, and a pair of Nikes. Terrence is wearing a loose blue button-up shirt, black jeans, black belt, white socks, no underwear, and a pair of blue Converses. Andrew and Terrence are also both clean-shaven.  Bryson watches in earnest as the two men take a few bites of the wings before putting them down on the plates. Andrew looks a bit disgusted, while Terrence looks relatively satisfied. The buff restauranteur grins as he sees the 23-year-old’s face light up. Andrew tries to hide the fact that he hates how they taste.  “It is okay if you find it disgusting Drew. Their taste isn’t for everyone.”  He can see that Terrence wants to eat more of the wings.  “Go for it, Deron. Feel free to get more of them if you wish.”  Andrew watches as his friend continues to eat more of the wings and shakes his head. Bryson is turning his full attention to what the African American is doing.  “It seems that the recipe is to your liking, mate?”  “Mm, oh very much, bro. They taste really good. They have a nice seasoning on them, of course I have always liked spicy food.”  “That is great to hear, Deron. Drew, would you like a free meal on the house from Myostatin Grill? We can get anything for you.”  Andrew can see that he is no longer going to be treated the same way as his friend and it is starting to annoy him.  “Now hold on a minute. I thought that we were both going to do this. I don’t like the taste of the wings; can I have so other appetizer maybe?”  Bryson turns to give him a wink.  “Well, a part of the process is to see whether you can get past the first course of the meal. You said that you didn’t like the taste of the wings we provided you. The rest of the dinner will likely not change the way that you feel about the taste of the food. Each of us responds to the recipe in different ways. We are willing to provide you with a meal that you would probably like.”  Andrew decides that maybe he should go ahead and accept the free meal, but he also feels like Terrence may be in some kind of danger without him there with him.  “Terrence, are you sure that you want to continue with this? I am not sure what is going to happen without me being here with you.”  The smiling young black man turns to him and says,  “I will be fine Andrew. In fact, I have this overwhelming hunger to keep going. I feel almost euphoric.”  His 24-year-old white buddy sighs and says,  “Alright Bryson, where do I go now?”  The buff man pushes a button as one of his staff members comes in and escorts Andrew out to the main atrium where he will be provided his food. Bryson goes back to focusing his energy on the black man.  “Are you starting to feel something happening to you, Deron? Like maybe your body is tingly or perhaps your muscles are getting a bit sore, mate?”  Terrence stares back at him and can feel his cock starting to ache. He lightly moans as leathery stretching noises start emanating from every muscle fiber in his body. He is now looking down and notices his forearms and biceps are slowly expanding as the veins surface and swell ever so slowly beneath his bronzed skin. His nonexistent pecs now have contours and are slightly visible beneath his shirt. He can feel his quads starting to fill in the space inside his jeans. His cock, nicely thick and girthy, has grown an additional inch as it stretches down his left leg. He feels it as it brushes against the denim, his veiny sheath now clearly visible beneath the fabric.  Bryson reaches down underneath the table to pet it, grunting as it leaves a wet spot on Terrence’s jeans. The young black man jumps slightly but is also lightly moaning. He is no longer the skinny 23-year-old that entered the restaurant. His face is now more defined and has grown a bit of a beard as well. His clothes fit better also. The buff man sitting beside him has started to massage his left arm.  “Feels good, doesn’t it Deron? I know it does. The same thing happened to all of us in the restaurant. We sort of stumbled upon the recipe by accident. Of course, this is not meant for the public because that would be an absolute catastrophe. It is a shame that your friend didn’t like the recipe, but that just means that we can have a bit more fun without him here.”  Bryson has taken his host jacket off and is now wearing just his white shirt and slacks. His outfit does very little to contain the mass beneath it. He flexes his huge pythons, which are straining the hell out of the sleeves of his shirt, as they ride the edge of his bloated shoulders. His lower body looks like it is painted to his pants and his cock is now clearly visible. He is getting turned on clearly.  “I imagine you are still hungry, mate. Let’s just move on to the main course.”  The kitchen staff brings him a dish that makes his eyes light up.  “Wow, it is a brisket. Oh, and it looks amazing. I can’t wait to eat it. It smells incredible too.”  “I definitely think you will enjoy it, Deron.”  After savoring it for the next several minutes, the athletic African American leans back in his chair and sighs as it permeates his insides and his senses. Bryson motions for the staff to take his plate away as he stands up to get behind him and begins to rub on his shoulders.  “I know that had to be even better than the wings, right mate? I am glad that you approve of the brisket because things are about to get very interesting.”  Bryson makes eye contact with Terrance again and tells him to get up from the table. He leads him over to a sitting area with a big couch and a very unusual looking chair. He tries to get the young man to sit in the chair, but he is stumbling a bit. The Brit attempts to get him to focus again.  “I have a very unusual question to ask you Deron. Is there a bodybuilder that you have ever wanted to look like? Or maybe you have wanted to meet one to have some fun with?”  “Huh? Uh, I have never thought about any of that before. Why are you asking me these questions? Oh wait...I know why you are. I am turning into one, aren’t I?”  Terrence bolts for the door that himself and Andrew entered in the very beginning. Bryson tries to keep up, but he is not as small and agile and is attempting to keep pace. The young black man’s buddy can hear him calling out his name and runs over to where he is. They both manage to get away from Bryson and his crew for the time being by finding an empty office and locking the door behind them.  “I knew that there was something wrong with this entire scenario Terrence.”  The athletic 23-year-old African American is sweating profusely and is breathing heavily but seems really happy at the same time.  “No no bro... He has done something great for me. He was wanting to keep you from enjoying the experience and was going to stick me in some chair to hold me down so that he could mess with me, I think.”  Terrence can feel his body getting ready to grow again. Andrew wonders if he is okay.  “Are you sure you are alright dude? Hmm...I just noticed that you have a beard and... oh you have bigger muscles.”  They can hear someone trying to get into the room and there are voices saying “Deron” and “Terrence” behind the door. The two young men open the one window in the office and climb through it. Surprisingly, there is no one on the other side. When they reach the ground below them, Andrew is stopped by his friend. They are now outside of the building.  “BRO! I am about to grow again. Fuck, I think I am going to get REALLY BIG!”  Andrew watches in amazement as he sees Terrence swelling in front of him. His forearms and biceps start ripping through his sleeves revealing his dense expanding vascular bronze cannons.  “OH YEAH DREW! It feels so good. I can feel myself getting more powerful with every second that passes.”  The growing hulk’s quads are now ripping out of his jeans, making him moan in delight as his huge brownish cock hangs out the left side of one of the openings and starts dripping precum all over his leg. His shoes are no match for his growing feet as his socks rip like paper.  “Oh my god Terrence, you are going to be so fucking...HOT!”  “Drew...I want you so fucking bad. I want to be the one to turn you into a beast like me. MMM...my back is getting so fucking massive.”  The black hulk grunts as his delts and lats start to tear through the back of his shirt. He can feel his pecs stretching the buttons on his shirt to their limits as his ass blasts through the back of his jeans. He is now breathing down Andrew’s face as he makes his friend feel him as he grows.  “Feel how huge I am Drew. Big, mother fucking dense black muscle. I had no idea that I needed this so much. And I need you too.”  Andrew hears several tearing sounds coming from Terrence’s pants as the beast’s huge cock rips itself free from them and is rubbing up against his chest. The black beauty’s pecs are now blasting the buttons off his shirt as they are revealed. Huge, heavy, incredibly vascular like the rest of his body is. He tears his shirt off and moans as he continues to feel himself swelling. His friend is now lusting over him as he stares in awe at his black friend’s huge frame and is feeling all his muscles.  “I can’t concentrate Terrence; you are the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life. I mean...”  The hulk grunts as he lifts him up and locks his lips on Andrew’s. They kiss for quite a while, losing track of whether they are still being hunted by Bryson and his crew. Terrence holds him tightly against him, flexing his huge 22” guns and grimaces as he flexes his pelvic floor, ripping the last remaining fabric away from his body as his belt splits in half and his jeans fall to the ground. They finally stop kissing.  “Mm... I admit I have wanted to embrace you for months Drew. I wasn’t about to let some random guy I don’t know take this away from me. I mean...he is hot, but he isn’t you.”  Andrew is petting Terrence’s huge pecs making him sigh in pleasure as he is put back down on the ground. The hulk’s huge 11-inch cock bounces in anticipation of being milked as it starts to be stroked by the black beauty.  “Ahh...I am so fucking hot for you bro. I want to drown you in my boys and watch you become like me. I don’t even fucking care if we are found at this point because this is between the two of us now.”  Andrew is now down on his knees and is caressing Terrence’s bloated quads, running his hands down between each split and kisses both, making his partner sigh deeply. He eventually makes him stop stroking his cock so he can have a go at it.  “Let me make this beautiful muscle spit on me dude. I have wanted to...mmm...”  He slowly starts to slide his friend’s huge cock down his throat and moves back and forth in very slow movements. Terrence tries not to yell in pleasure as he bucks his hips and squeezes his ass. Andrew smiles as he looks up into the beast’s eyes. He moans tasting its sweet nectar as it flows into his gut. He pulls it out as several strands of precum drape from his lips to its cockhead.  “Oh, fuck dude, we are meant to be. I can take this beast and I want your cum.”  Terrence quickly shoves his cock back inside Andrew’s mouth and hastens his thrusts. His moans are getting louder and deeper as he feels his massive load starting to flow into his cock. Andrew looks up into his eyes again with lust as the beast sighs dumping his thick protein into his partner’s body.  “OH...FUCK BRO... I had no idea that you could take my beast so easily.”  Andrew gags a few times as a little bit of his partners cum drips off his chin and onto his polo. He stops sucking to let it continue to fill him. He is now closing his eyes and moaning softly. Terrence is wondering what is going through his head. He opens them when his partner asks him a question.  “You okay Drew?”  He pulls his cock out of his partner’s mouth so he can speak.  “Oh, I am fine dude. I can already feel something happening inside me. You were right when you thought that your ‘protein’ was enough to grow me. I never got the chance to eat anything in there because you ate your food so fast. I am really happy I waited because...whew...it feels like it is going to start at any moment.”  The black hulk helps him up to his feet as he braces himself for what is about to happen. Terrence rubs his back slowly and watches as Andrew’s face begins to grow stubble. He unzips his jeans and pulls his cock through his boxers to let it hang freely. He can hear his muscles making stretching noises as he rubs his chest.  “Ah I can feel the hormones pumping through my brain dude. Your cum is so powerful.”  “You better believe it bro. I am anxious to see you get huge like me.”  Terrence now has one of his hands on Andrew’s cock as it swells in his grip. He grunts as he sees his white friend’s lower half starting to stretch his jeans. The growing beast lets out a few manly yelps as he feels his pecs expanding under his hands. His feet have now started to rip through his Nikes as his socks tear in half. He lustfully stares into the black beast’s eyes and moans.  “You are turning me into this gorgeous massive beast Terrence. I love it so much.”  The black hulk is now stroking his partner’s huge 10-inch cock as it starts to leak all over his huge hand. His other hand is squeezing Andrew’s swelling right bicep as it slowly starts to rip through the sleeve. He can hear the growing beast grunt as his mammoth quads burst through his jeans and keep expanding. His traps are now tearing seams along his neckline.  “FUCK YES! RRAARRHH! Oh, I want to just tear everything off, but watching myself leave my puny me behind is too exciting.”  Both beasts moan loudly as they watch Andrew’s pecs start to rip out of the front of his polo. The sound of the fabric giving way sends them both over the edge as they blast cum in two different directions. Two huge heaving golden-haired mounds of power emerge ready to be admired. His thick and blocky six pack is also in full view.  “AHH YEAH! What an absolute rush. I didn’t think I was going to cum like that, but the feeling of just hulking out was too much.”  “Yeah bro! I was incredibly turned on myself. We crossed streams.”  Andrew rips the rest of his polo shirt off to start flexing his gargantuan 21” guns and to show off his expanding back. His jeans are now falling apart as his glutes rip completely out and his belt splits in half the same way Terrence’s did. He goes ahead and destroys the rest of his pants and boxers and tosses them to the side. The two beasts embrace as they start to get more acquainted with each other’s hulking muscles.  In the midst of their transformations, the two hulks had no idea that they were being watched by the others. Bryson had witnessed the entire sequence from both men and didn’t want to interrupt. He had his own cock out and was blasting cum multiple times from inside the office they were in. Other members of his crew were feeling themselves up as well.  The buff Brit starts making loud grunting noises from inside the window to get their attention, which works for a few seconds. They stop focusing on each other to turn to look up.  “Hello mates, I would like to congratulate you both on joining us here at the Myostatin Grill. It is obvious that the recipe is a complete success as you Deron, have become a big bloke like us, and passed your own protein on to your friend Drew. I did wonder if you were going to be a problem.”  The two hulks smile as they lovingly punch each other in the chest. They both say a few words to Bryson.  “We both thought you were really hot Bryson, but you were so shady. You were trying to get me out of that room so fast. If it wasn’t for Terrence, I don’t think I would still be here right now.”  “Yeah bro, I care deeply about this white hulk. He has always been there for me, and I wasn’t about to leave him out of this.”  “I can understand that guys. That doesn’t matter anymore, now does it? My guards are going to let you back in through a side door. We need to discuss what the next move will be for not only you two, but for whom the recipe will be offered to next.”  Two huge men are now trying to get them to go through a side door, but Terrence is messing with one of them. Andrew starts laughing because he knows that he can put up a fight, if need be, as well. Bryson starts to sigh to himself.  “Okay guys, I get it. You are both as big as the rest of us, but what you don’t know is we can get even bigger if it is necessary. Don’t make me tell them to take the booster.”  One of the men pulls out a syringe and gets ready to plunge it into his partner before Terrence yells out that he will cooperate.  “Good, just come back inside so we can discuss the future. You both will likely enjoy what I have in store for you.”  Both Andrew and Terrence are led inside by the two men, who quickly close the door behind them. Bryson shakes his head and makes sure no one is around before talking to himself.  “I love this job so much, but getting to this point can be so frustrating. I will have to work really hard to get that black beast away from his white knight. He is going to be a BIG problem for sure. I can sense an aggressiveness with him. They do complement each other, but I need Deron’s obvious ability to turn runts into hulks. Mm... just thinking about him filling me with his seed makes my muscles sore with pleasure. Anyway, time to work my magic.”  Bryson zips his pants up and leaves the office to go find the two beasts. It is just another night at the Myostatin Grill. 
    • ploder4
      Let me guess.  Carnitas is going to be the Steamroller's pet cocksucker?  No muscles for you Steve.  Just a lifetime of getting your throat stretched to the limit by steamroller guys who keep getting bigger and bigger until his throat pops or his head gets blasted off by a huge cumshot or gets his belly blown up until he bursts.  This is ultimately a snuff story.   Lol Ultimately, I think Steve wants to be popped.  He's just not willing to accept his true role in life.
    • Broody
      POP, Part 5 “In the red corner,” bellowed the MMA announcer, “standing at 6’6” and breaking the scale at 450 lbs of massive cop-muscle. It’s Steve ‘The Mount Rushmore of Meat’ Carnitas!” Steve shadowboxed in his corner, pumping his massive fists like pistons, and stomping his feet like a bull. The ring shook under the weight of his huge muscles. “Fuck yeah, bring it on!” He screamed across the ring at his opponent. “And in the blue corner, standing at 5’8” and weighing in at 150 lbs of Italian steel, it’s Vinny ‘The Shiv’ Crisco.” The lean, mean mob enforcer sneered across the ring at the cop and flexed his ultra-hard biceps, the muscles mounding upwards into cascading piles of ropey knots. “That’s right, bitch, get a load of me.” Vinny twisted his wrists and a second peak bulged up from the muscle. Then he flexed harder and a freaky third peak popped out the top like an cockhead out of a foreskin. “Come suck on this, faggot, since you like muscles so much.” Steve grit his teeth as he watched Vinny lower those brutally strong arms and throw an uncanny blur of punches in the air. He steeled his nerves; he wouldn’t get beaten by this evil gnome again. The combatants met in the center of the ring and the ref was about to give the starting signal when he stopped and shook his head. “This fight cannot continue, both fighters must be in the same weight class.” “Nothing’s going to stop me from smashing this punk,” Steve growled. “It’s payback time.” “Don’t strain your pea-sized brain,” said Crisco. “I’m mob, we know how to fix the odds.” The slick mafioso slid under Carnitas’ legs and tore his boxing shorts right off his waist as he ducked through the slim space between the detective’s massive quads. “What the fuck are you doing?” “I’m doing what a man does, faggot. I’m taking what I want with my own hands.” Bracing his left hand on Carnitas’s back, Vinny swung a pulverizing uppercut punch straight between Steve’s glutes, burying his forearm up to the elbow. “Ahhhgh!” Steve screamed, “My ass! My ass! He’s busted my hole!!” “I’ll allow it,” said the ref. “No one to save you now, bitch,” Vinny sneered. Steve whimpered as he felt the muscles of his prized physique wobble. A sound like air leaking out of a balloon filled his ears and he panicked as his muscles begin to shrink. “No…” “Aw yeah,” Vinny growled as he absorbed the muscle-cop’s mass like his arm was a hose draining a vat. His lean hairy pecs swelled into slabs, then rounded boulders. His strong legs thickened from a sprinter’s lean muscle to the size of a horse’s haunches. He admired his free arm as meat spooled around it, forming huge triceps and biceps and delts Steve sobbed, horrified as his ass tore under pressure from Vinny’s forearm, bloated up with stolen muscle. Each of the cop’s muscles was softening, shrinking and weakening as the tough mafioso claimed his gym-honed strength for himself. Finally the ref said: “That’s enough, back to your corners.  “Heh heh,” Vinny chuckled as he lifted Steve into the air, pitching him into his corner with a wave of his arm. The detective tumbled into a pathetic heap, and painfully got to his feet as blood dripped from his ravaged anus. Steve turned around slowly, his ass on fire, his heart racing as he took in the knee-weakening sight of his transformed nemesis. “Each fighter is now 300 lbs,” called the ref. “Fight’s on!” But to call the match even was a joke. Carnitas stood, 300 lbs of flabby flesh in loose-hanging skin, literally pissing himself as Vinny Crisco streaked across the ring, wearing the 300 lbs of stolen muscles on his 5’8” frame like a Ferrari crossed with a Sherman tank. “Take your best shot, pig.” Crisco raised his hands and placed them behind his head in the classic pose of surrender, but it was Carnitas who wanted to give up. Veins and striations streaked across his arms and pecs as their mass challenged the laws of physics. His long glossy black hair fell onto traps thicker than a Brahma bull. His abs could pave a whole Italian village in cobblestones. In desperation, he hooked punches left and right into that body and screamed as his fists shattered into bloody stumps. The evil hit man just chuckled. “My turn. Lights out, motherfucker.” Vinny’s nuclear punch broke the speed of sound as it rocketed the broken cop out of the ring in a linear trajectory to the back wall of the arena, high above the cheap seats. Blinded by the collapse of his face into his skull, Steve’s only sensation was his loose skin flapping like a sail in a windstorm in the two seconds before his body splattered against the concrete wall. ... “Huhhhhhnnnnnn!” Steve gasped as he woke suddenly from the nightmare, heart racing. He flopped out of his bed in a panic, his sweaty body tangled in his bedsheets. He tried to calm his breathing. “You’re okay, he can’t hurt you, he’s dead. It was just a nightmare."  With a groan, he got to his feet. As the bedclothes slipped from his body, he caught a glimpse of himself in his bedroom mirror. Yeah, a nightmare I’m still living. *** “Let me guess, low blood sugar?” It’d been seven days since Detective Steve Carnitas had left his apartment. He knew that Flint would soon replace him on the case if he didn’t get back to work, but that seemed impossible. There was only one week left of the Camp Steamroller retreat, and Shaw was losing his mind with Steve ignoring his texts. Carnitas had made a desperate call. “Thanks for coming, doc,” he croaked. Dr Harry Stain walked in with his crime scene bag. He cast his eyes over Steve’s body, from toe to top. “I had my line all ready: ‘You do know my patients are usually dead, Steve.’ But seeing as how you look half-way there I guess I’ll do what I can.” “So if I’m your patient now, you gotta keep what I tell you confidential, right?” Stain snorted. “I’m going to regret taking this phone call, aren’t I?” *** “So let me get this straight. You were coming home late after the motel takedown when someone slugged you in the back of the head with a fire extinguisher, and then anally raped you with said fire extinguisher. Now you can’t hold your shit together, literally. You’ve stopped eating solid food, since you can’t shit, and have lost a staggering 150 lbs in one week, a third of your body weight. That about it?” Steve nodded, holding his breath. “This have anything to do with the pop case?” “No!” Steve interjected, much too quickly. Stain’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms as he stood in the bathroom door. Carnitas was sitting on the can. Even the chicken broth he was surviving on produced something, and it was either this or have another accident right in front of the pathologist. “You’ve got facial injuries, you must have seen your assailant.” “I didn’t, those are from the motel job.” “Steve, I read the electronic report you filed. You got hit in the nose and the right eye. Where did the broken teeth, torn lip and foot-shaped bruise on your forehead come from?” Steve had worried about this; Stain was too shrewd. “Look Dr Snoop, I don’t need a detective. My ass is wrecked. I need a physician.” “I just told you that I’m obliged to keep this confidential. Why are you lying to me?” Because, thought Steve, I know that confidentiality doesn’t extend to murder. And there was no way he was going to get Jonah Brick thrown in jail over a shitstain like Vinny Crisco. He recalled Brick’s words: Remember one thing. This was not your fault. “Bullshit,” Steve said out loud, his eyes welling up. “No. No, no.” Stain held his hands and backed away. “I don’t do tears.” Carnitas wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve. “You call that a fucking bedside manner?” “My bedside is a mortuary table.” “Ugh. You are such a bastard.” “Look, Steve. If you’re incontinent, that means the inner sphincter is compromised. You need a rectal surgeon. That means a hospital.” “No. No hospitals.” Stain put on his coat. “Well good luck with that, then. Next time you think to call me to waste my time, don’t.” And he was out the door. “Asshole!” Steve yelled, punching the tiled wall. He shook out his hand. A week ago, he would have punched a hole into the other room. “Weakling. Stupid, ugly, shrunken weakling.” His phone pinged. He looked at the screen. What the hell? He opened the Facebook app. New message request from Garrett Shaw: You’re making me resort to Facebook? Just for that I’m going to suplex your hypothyroid ass until your body crumbles in my hands like grandma’s biscuits. Call me. Steve’s stomach was stabbed with a hunger pang. Did he have to refer to food, goddamnit. Steve was about to put the phone down when he saw an ad pop up on his feed: ASSHOLE WRECKED? YOU NEED A RECTAL SURGEON. NO HOSPITALS, NO QUESTIONS ASKED. DR. DARIUS ASFARGHI. NATUROPATHIC SURGEON. 1-800-DRR-ASSS. Steven blinked in disbelief. “The goddamned Zuckerburg surveillance state comes through.” He shook his head in amazement and thumbed up the call. *** “Just so you know, he’s a bit on the rough side,” said the no-nonsense dyke nurse, Sharon, as she finished counting out the cash fee, six thousand dollars in small bills. “But his patients are mostly bottoms, so they like that.” Carnitas lay naked on the surgery table with his legs up in stirrups. “What makes you think I’m a bottom?” She raised a pierced eyebrow. “Didn’t you say this happened while you were shoving a fire extinguisher up your ass?” “Oh, right.” “If that was a lie, I really don’t want to hear the real story.” She turned to leave. “Wait, aren't you staying to assist?” “Oh he won’t need any help. Plus, I can’t stand the smoke. Allergies.” “Huh? Wait, one more question. What’s a naturopathic surgeon?” “You’ll see, Pinocchio.” Steve reflected on how bad a liar he’d been this past week. He needed to eat again, not only to gain back the mass, but for his brain. How was he going to manage an undercover job, let alone keep his story straight if he was questioned in Crisco’s disappearance, if he couldn’t even fool a nurse at a dead-end, probably illegal clinic. His reverie was interrupted by a bang as Dr. Asfarghi kicked open the swinging doors and entered, carrying a surgical tray, and smoking a fat cigar. He dropped the tray on a stand near the end of the table and then stood at Carnitas’ feet. He was 6’5”, 320 lbs of utterly masculine Persian-American muscle-stud. “What have we got here?” “Well, it’s a bit of a long story, Dr. Asferg… OW!” The doctor slapped the inside of his knees to open his legs wider, with a hairy hand the size of a textbook.  “Just call me Dr. Ass. You think I want the name of my line mangled by your pissant diction? It was a rhetorical question. It’s always the same story with you faggots.” “You can’t talk to me like that… OHHH!” Steve moaned and arched his back like a whore. His dick, plump from the moment Asfargi walked in the room, shot instantly rigid as the doctor shoved four thick hairy fingers into his broken hole. “Yes, same story.” He pushed deeper and Steve gasped, nearly blasting a week’s load of cum into his own face. “Both sphincters. Bite off more than you could chew?” Change the subject, Steve. He pointed to the janitor’s sink on the left side of the room. “Hey you didn’t… What do you call it, scrub?” “It’s ass, idiot. I don’t scrub before these cases, I scrub after. Any more stupid questions?” “... No.” Dr Asfarghi stuck his thumb in to join the fingers in a fist. “No, what?” “OHH… No… sir…?” “Now you’re getting it.” He withdrew his hand and Steve’s face fell as he experienced an emptiness that was physical and emotional. The surgeon’s lip curled into a smirk. “Don’t cry, boy. When I’m done with you, you’ll be nice and tight for Daddy. But no more faggy writhing, this isn’t pole-dance class.” Carnitas winced as the doctor slapped a heavy glass ashtray on his abs, and then slapped his phone next to it. He tapped off the ash at the end of his cigar and then put on an earpiece. “I thought you couldn’t smoke in a hospital.” “You blind as well as dumb? This look like a hospital to you?” He tapped his earpiece as he sat on the stool. “Put me through to my trainer, Sharon.” The surgeon pulled a head lamp on an elastic band onto his forehead. “What the hell?” Steve objected. “You can’t take a personal call in the middle of—” “Shut it, nancy. Men are talking. Yo, Stark!” Steve’s ears pricked up. Yeah, shut it, nancy, he told himself. “Tell me more about this investment opportunity,” said the surgeon, his head dipping below Steve’s line of sight. He paused to spit a wet glob on Carnitas’ hole. “This Steamroller thing. You really think it’s got potential?” He spat again and massaged Steve’s anus with his big thumb. His other hand reached over and knocked more ash off the cigar. “I’m not interested in going all in on a fad. Nobody remembers the Thigh-Master.” Steve couldn’t hear the dialogue of the response, but the tinny earpiece speaker couldn’t obscure the power of the voice on the other side. The low-frequency vibes caressed Steve’s sensitive inner thigh til he shivered, and his cock rose slowly to full-mast. “So your father has this cutting edge technique, but sounds like he’s got no business sense. Forest retreats, meditation, drumming? Yeah, no.”  More spit, more massaging, Steve stifled an aroused moan. “So you need an angel investor to come up with a marketing plan, a full scale assault on the commercial gym sector. Make Gold’s Gym your bitch. Now that’s something I can get behind.” Steve was so close to cumming he could barely keep up with his serendipitous surveillance. He forced himself to listen. “So what kind of return on investment are we talking about?” He whistled slowly. “No kidding, huh. Stark, if this works out, I will gladly suck your fucking dick in thanks.” That thick manly hand appeared again to dash more char into the ashtray. “HUH-HUH-HUH.” Steve froze at the sound from the earpiece. The exact cadence of the perp’s evil chuckle. Unmistakeable. “Ohhhhhh shiiiiit,” his voice climbed in pitch. He tried to slam the door on the sudden cumshot with a hard Kegel squeeze but half of it still got through, dripping down like white wax from the tip of his adamant hard-on. Asfarghi stood, and raised a thick dark eyebrow at the splooge. “Gotta go, Stark, duty calls.” He tapped his earpiece. “Damn, faggot, pace yourself.”  He tapped a last bit of ash into the tray and then removed it and the phone to the stand. Then Dr. Darius Asfarghi unknotted the ties at the waist of his scrubs and pulled them down, and Steve whimpered as he took in the most stunning, beautiful cock he’d ever seen. It was perfectly shaped, thick and veiny even flaccid, with a head the color and shape of a succulent plum. It and his egg shaped balls were framed by a dense hairy bush, black as the night sky. The surgeon nodded knowingly at Steve’s speechless reaction. “Yeah.” He hefted the weight of the breathtaking member in his hand. “Can you imagine, if my namesake ancestor King Darius the Third had had a cock like this? That faggot Alexander the so-called Great would have turned his ass up in surrender, just like you. Ah, well, what might have been.” The doctor closed his eyes, inhaled, exhaled, and discharged a flood of golden piss onto, and into, Carnitas’ exposed hole. “What the fuck?” Steve bellowed hoarsely. The powerful piss-stream shot up into his gape, and Steve’s humiliation turned to astonished arousal as the blissful warmth of it spread up his abdomen. A tranquil smile came over his face, his first in a week. The surgeon smirked again. “Objection withdrawn?” “I’ll take some to go,” Steve whispered. Asfarghi tucked his regal cock back in his scrubs, and dumped the cigar ashes in Steve piss-soaked hole. “Okay. We’ll let the antiseptics cook while I work on your anesthesia." He stared at Steve’s confused face. “That okay by you?”  “Fine, fine,” Steve replied meekly. The surgeon crossed his arms in front of him and peeled off his green scrub top with a smooth upward motion. “Wow!” Steve blurted. Asfarghi’s upper body was bursting with ultra-jacked, densely furry man-muscle. “Yeah I get that a lot. Pick your poison. Arms?…” He raised his arms in a victory pose, exploding his thick hairy forearms with a twist of his wrists, his virile biceps and triceps swelling in perfect tandem over deep bushy pits. “Oh…” Steve moaned, his cock rising once again. “Or abs?…” The doctor slid his hands down his torso to his hips, crunching his abs into a bas-relief sculpture, highlighted by the inky-dark hair in the inch deep crevices. “Ohhhhh…” Steve humped the air, imagining what it would be like to frot that manly masterpiece. “Or pecs?…” “Ohhhh pecs, yes! Pecs!” Steve babbled, insanely aroused. “Huge mounds… so hairy… so hard… smother me… ohhhh.” “Do NOT cum, boy. Pecs it is.” The doctor stepped to the side and pulled a jump rope from under the table. “Watch closely, boy. And do not cum.” The doctor started jumping rope. His prodigious, meaty flexed pecs bounced hypnotically, as powerful bands of muscle tensed from his shoulders to his sternum. “You watching, boy? … Watch Daddy’s hairy chest… Yeah, boy, so powerful… so manly…” “So powerful… so manly…” Steve droned. “Watch those hairy muscle-pecs bounce, boy. You see them bounce. Follow the bounce with your eyes.” “They’re bouncing… they’re bouncing…” “Up and down, up and down, follow the bouncing muscle.” “Muscle bouncing, so hot, you’re so hot, Daddy… so… hot…” “Now look closer, boy, zoom in on Daddy’s bouncing pecs. They’re all around you now. You feel safe with Daddy’s muscle all around you.” “”I… feel safe…” “Daddy will protect you… Daddy would never hurt you…” “Never… hurt… me…” “As long as you see Daddy, you’ll never feel pain… Because Daddy would never hurt you…” “Never… feel… pain… Daddy… never… hurt… me…” “Now you’re going to close your eyes, but you’re still going to see Daddy’s hairy pecs, bouncing just for you, boy.” Steve closed his eyes. “Just… for… me…” Dr Asfarghi stopped skipping, his heart pounding from the cardio, and approached the head of the table. “Now a little aromatherapy and we’re good to go.” He used one finger to scrape thick nectar-like sweat from the muscled wall of his hairy pec. He applied it to Steve’s upper lip as his eyelids fluttered. The surgeon crossed back to his stool and unwrapped the surgical tray. Grasping the needle driver in his right hand, he spread Steve’s damaged hole open with his left. “Here we go. One stitch for good boys…” he said, drawing out the thread from the inner sphincter, before plunging in again. “And one for Daddy.” Tying a knot, he cut the thread and moved to the outer sphincter. “And once again, one stitch for good boys… and one for Daddy.” “One for Daddy?” Steve droned. “Daddy likes an extra stitch. You want to be tight for Daddy, don’t you boy?” “Am I, tight for Daddy?” “Let’s find out.” Dropping the needle driver, Asfarghi lowered his scrubs again. This time his stupendous cock was as hard as surgical steel. He crawled up on top of Steve, enveloping his hypnotized patient in his sweaty, hairy muscles. His strong heartbeat thudded against Steve’s chest. Gently, he probed Steve’s hole with his pre-cum-slicked cock. When he was in all the way, he sighed with satisfaction. “Aw, yeah, boy. Feels so good.” “It feels good, Daddy?” “Oh fuck yeah! Daddy does good work.” “Good work… for a good boy.” “Nice and easy, boy, squeeze Daddy’s cock gently.” Steve squeezed his butthole and smiled with pleasure. He was whole again! “You healed me!” he gasped as he opened his eyes. “Fucking right, boy, Daddy’s a fucking stud. Squeeze a little harder, boy. That’s it. Awwhhhhhggrrr!!” Asfarghi thrust only twice and then came hard, unloading a hefty dose of healing spermy stem cells into Steve’s ass. He collapsed on Steves’s chest, rolled onto one side, then got up from the table. “Damn I’m good.” Steve was coming out of the hypno, but grateful tears streamed out of his eyes. “How can I ever thank you?” he breathed. “Just think about this moment for now on. You don’t need anything up there other than cock. And there’s always cock to be had, isn’t there?” The doctor stopped short as he saw Steve’s torn lip. “Hold on, what’s this?” “Oh, well I just thought that would be a different surgeon.” Dr Asfarghi snatched up some debriding scissors from the tray. “No cocksucking patient of mine is going to leave my care without lips suitable for cocksucking. But I’m going to have to put you right out for this.” He raised his enourmous muscular arm and dropped his sweaty, densely hairy armpit over Steve’s face.  “Breath deep, faggot. Count backwards from ten.” “10…9…” Steve’s lungs filled with dreamy man-musk and his brain was doused in stupefying pheromones, erasing all memory of Vinny Crisco, or any other man for that matter, who wasn’t descended from Persian kings. His cock shot another creamy load as he reached number 7. “Nighty-night, boy. You’ll be handsome as ever when you wake up.” *** “Where’d Dr. Ass go?” Steve said as he lurched out of the surgery room. Sharon was sitting at her desk. “Something about an investment opportunity? Had to go see his banker.”  Steve’s heart fluttered like a school girl’s. “Did he happen to say anything about me being handsome? I wasn’t sure about what I heard in there.” She looked up from her magazine. “Damn, he did your lip for free? And put veneers on your teeth? Yes my friend, he definitely wants to fuck you again.” Carnitas floated out the door like he was pumped full of helium. He flagged down a cab as his stomach rumbled. “Bad Brad’s Diner. On the double. Police emergency.” He texted Garrett Shaw. Meet you at Camp Steamroller, tomorrow morning. Let the elder Stark know I’m a DBag desperate to see the light. To be continued [And sorry for those anxiously awaiting Camp Steamroller... next chapter, I promise!]
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