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  2. muscleaddict

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    PART TWO Eleven When you spend ten months of the year on the campus of a university for bodybuilders, surrounded by fellow muscle lads and ex-bodybuilding teachers, it’s easy to forget that in the real world, the sight of a group of bodybuilders (or even just ONE bodybuilder) is something of a rarity. And likely to cause a few stares from any regular-sized passers-by. Which is EXACTLY what is happening right now as I’m standing in Glasgow airport, queuing up for check-in, with five of my fellow bodybuilding students and three of my ex-competitive bodybuilding teachers. Even though most of us are covered up by hoodies and tracksuits (apart from Hancox who’s just wearing a white t-shirt) people are definitely looking. And giving us second glances. Some just look intrigued. Others look weirded out. And then there’s the group of lads who don’t look like strangers to the gym but are definitely not bodybuilders and are huddled not far from us, blatantly just staring and talking about us. They even remind me of my brother’s mates a bit. It’s hard to know what’s going through their heads. Admiration. Intimidation. Maybe even envy. Because they’d love to be as big as us. They’d love to be pumped up bodybuilders making their way to one of the biggest events on the IFBB calendar to step on stage and flex and pose in nothing but posing trunks. I won’t lie. Getting that kind of attention. Receiving those looks from people. It’s kind of intoxicating. But then - it always has been. Whether it’s a group of lads at Glasgow airport, regular-sized non-bodybuilding folk on a train back home or lads in a gay bar on the Brighton seafront. I’m also feeling that kind of excited buzz that comes with being at an airport for a trip away. It strikes me that this is the first time I’m actually going abroad without my parents. Me, Nick and Tony have talked about doing a lads holiday before but it’s never actually happened. My dad phoned me last night. He actually told me to “enjoy myself”. My dad! I almost dropped my fucking phone out of shock. He did then say, “Don’t get showing yourself up!” I’m not exactly sure how he’d expect me to do that. As we’re all sitting in those plastic chairs after checking in and killing time before we board, I start to notice three little groups forming. Actually no - make that four! There’s me, Ash and Mafra sitting together. Then two of the third-years, Kieran and Connell. Then the three lecturers sat opposite us. And then my best mate - Seth “Ozzie” Osman, sitting a few seats down from the lecturers by himself in a green “Montgomery University” hoodie and blue trackies. Playing with his phone. His headphones in. Chewing on gum. Skin more tanned than any of the other lads (he’s definitely already put a coat on even though we’re getting tanned up on the day). In his own little world. Not seeming like he gives a shit about anything. In other words - being his usual Ozzie self. But then - Keiran and Connell scoot over to sit next to Ash (Keiran looking rather hot in a bright red tracksuit and Connell looking his usual rough around the edges self in a black hoodie). I can’t hear anything that’s being said because I’ve got Bombay Bicycle Club playing in my ears through my headphones, but suddenly, Ash and the two-third years are stood up, Ash is saying something to Mafra, and then the three of them are gone. Huh. We haven’t even got to Chicago yet and Ash has already ditched us for a bigger duo of lads. I look over at Mafra who gives me a knowing smirk. Like he’s thinking the same thing I am. I lazily hold up my fist to Mafra and he bumps it. Then I casually look over to find Ozzie looking at me and fucking smirking. One of those weird, ominous smirks like he’s judging me. Ugh! What-the-fuck-ever. I am NOT gonna not let that twat wind me up on this trip. I turn back to scrolling through the Instagram feed on my phone and stop at a post of Rick “The Beef” Tucker cranking out an abs and thighs in red trunks in a hotel room. Fuck! His quads look fucking sick. Crazy conditioning. And everything’s bulging and popping as it always does. I once read a description of Rick online which suited him perfectly - “a beautiful balloon animal.” And he really fucking IS. I notice the location on the pic. Union Plaza Hotel. Wait - I’m SURE that’s the name of the hotel we’re staying at. I ask Mafra but he’s unsure. I look opposite to find Johnny Hoxton - the only teacher currently among us. It would be HIM, wouldn’t it? He notices us looking, widens his eyes as if he knows we want to ask him something. Then he grabs his little travel bag and sits down next to me. “All right, lads?” he says. I clear my throat and ask him the name of the hotel we’re staying at. And yep. It’s Union Plaza Hotel. The very hotel Rick “The Beef” Tucker is flexing his crazily conditioned balloon animal mass in right at this very moment. I show Johnny the post on my phone. Which feels … weird! It’s like something you’d do with your mate. Not your university lecturer you were once convinced pretty much hated you. “He caused me a bit of grief back in the day!” Johnny says, pulling a playful face. I smirk and roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. Feeling a bit weird about that comment. Because the same could no doubt be said about me. Johnny seems to be giving me this look with a tight-lipped smile as if he’s thinking the same thing. “Excited for what’s ahead then, Deano?” I nod and tell him yeah. Feeling a bit sheepish about this whole encounter. “You’ve earned it!” he says, firmly. This genuine smile on his face. I feel a pinch of something in my chest. I don’t know why Johnny looking at me like he is and saying those words to me means so much to me. But it does. It really does. At least there’s ONE person who doesn’t hold what happened last year against me. Unlike certain teacher training assistants, who I half expected to text me today wishing me good luck for the trip. He hasn’t, though. And I don’t think he will either. My mind drifts back to yesterday in the gym. Adam Lloyd nervously saying we should catch up when I’m back. And that look on his face when I just flatly said, “Maybe”. Did he really expect anything more? Ugh. I don't want to think about that right now. I don’t want to think about the absolute mess that is me and Adam Lloyd. I turn back to my phone and a shredded Rick Tucker. Flexing in the same hotel we’ll be checking into in about twelve hours time. I wonder who else is staying at the hotel. Mitchell "The Machine" Murray maybe? Will I be walking down a hotel corridor to find him strutting towards me? Huge and bronzed. Or maybe I’ll turn a corner to find Ash’s old gym buddy Nathan Marrett outrageously posing for a camera with his trackies around his ankles in the middle of the fucking corridor. Ash and the third-years come back from wherever they’ve been. Kieran and Connell go back to where they were sitting. Ash next to Mafra. And I suddenly feel like I was being stupid earlier. Thinking that Ash had ditched us. Why can’t Ash be mates with both us and those third-year lads? Maybe I should be making an effort with them. There’s no reason why I shouldn’t. We already have something in common. Other than being bodybuilders. A shared dislike for a certain mohawked short arsed third year. An hour or so later and we’re finally boarding our flight to Chicago. Cue more stares from the other passengers. Plus the male cabin crew member who greeted us at the door of the plane, whose eyes practically fucking popped out of their sockets as we filed on the plane one after the other. Keiran and Connell are already getting settled in their seats. In the aisle opposite them are the three lecturers. Johnny directs me and Mafra to the three seats behind them, Mafra getting in first for the window seat. For some reason, I stupidly agreed to take the middle seat because I’m the smallest of the three of us. And Ash, who’s trailing behind us, needs the aisle seat for his long (and massive fucking legs). It’s only when I’m sat down that I’m suddenly reminded of the fact that plane seats are NOT designed for bodybuilders. Jesus. Christ. Mafra’s spilling out onto my seat. And soon I'll have six foot two muscle monster Ash on the other side. Ten hours of this? Fucking hell. Walker twists his head around. “Comfy enough, lads?” he says, with a playful grin. I pull a face and roll my eyes. I feel a presence next to me. And then - what the fuck? What. The. Actual. Fuck? It’s not Ash suddenly sitting next to me. But Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman. With his mohawk. And tanned skin. And green Montgomery University hoodie. “Ash is sitting there!” I tell him, my voice sounding panicked. He shakes his head. “I ain’t sitting over there,” he says, flatly, referring to the empty seat next to his fellow third years. Ash is suddenly standing over us, in the aisle. His mouth hung open as he stares down at the scene. Clearly as flabbergasted as I am. Johnny and Hancox both twist their heads around, sensing a scene unfolding. “He’s in my seat!” Ash cries to the lecturers. “Come on, lads!” Johnny says, impatiently. “I’m not sitting over there!” Ozzie protests, his voice rising and sounding more urgent. Ash groans. “Fine!” he says, giving up and taking the seat next to Keiran. No. No, no, NO. This can not be happening. The teachers turn around again, problem apparently solved. Except it’s not. Because I’m sitting next to Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman! The most annoying bodybuilder I’ve ever come into contact with during my time at the Montgomery University of Bodybuilding & Fitness. For the next ten hours! I’m glaring at him. He looks over and does that ANNOYING fucking smirk. Which then turns into this big wide comical grin. “All right, Little Dude?” “Switch seats with me!” I say to Mafra. He looks at me confused like he can’t work out if I’m joking or not. Ozzie lets out a twattish laugh to himself in response. ARGH! “Just … don’t talk to me!” I say, flatly. He leans forward to look at Mafra. “Is he always this dramatic?” I lean my head back and close my eyes. Determined to ignore him. I can do this. I ignored my mum for several months last year because I was pissed off at her. I can ignore some annoying, cocky twat with a mohawk for ten hours. No problem. “We can use this time to bond, Little Dude!” he says, patting my arm. “Get to know each other!” Breathe. Do NOT react. Just act like he’s not there. “D.E.A.N.O!” ARGH! “D.E.A.N.O!” I snap my eyes open and glare at Ozzie. He’s giving me this twattish smug grin, rolling his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Like he knows EXACTLY how much he’s winding me up. But it doesn’t stop there. He carries on fucking singing. More animated than I’ve ever seen him. “He is D, Deano. He is E, enormous …,” What the FUCK? Is this actually happening? Mafra’s grinning. Walker twists his head around. “All right there, Britney?” Ozzie does this big grin, clearly loving the attention. “He is A, a pocket rocket!” Ash and the third years spin their heads around. I can hear them sniggering. I’m so fucking embarrassed. Ozzie’s not embarrassed though. Not one single bit. “He is N, not a cocky poser!” “Deano - you have my permission to smack him one,” Walker says. “Do I have permission to throw him out the bloody window?” Hancox says dryly. Ozzie pulls a stupid eeek face. “Ooop! Aggressive!” he says, now smiling. This guy just does NOT give a fuck, does he? More quietly this time, he sings one last line. “He is O-OH-oh!” As if he’s just singing for me this time. And now he’s just grinning at me. This little, amused smile. Just for me. It's like he’s DARING me to smile back. I roll my eyes, look away, and roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. “Is that a little smile?” Ozzie says, in this stupid voice as if he’s talking to a kid. An equally stupid look on his twattish tanned face. He’s not wrong though. I AM finding it really hard not to smile. “You’re SO annoying!” I say, shaking my head. “But funny too, apparently!” I pull a face. “You’re a weirdo.” Ozzie lets out a short, sharp laugh. “I’m a bodybuilder! My life’s ambition is to scare small children and give OAP’s heart attacks. Oh, and my favourite pastime is pec bouncing …,” he straightens up his back and I watch his pecs dance under his soft green hoodie, “of COURSE I’m a fucking weirdo.” Then his mouth curls into a smug smirk. “You’re not exactly NORMAL yourself, Little Dude!” he says. As if he knows me or something. I roll my eyes and look away. Then I close my eyes and lean my head back. Suddenly finding it a lot easier not to smile. Because I have ten hours of this. Sitting next to Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman. Making up stupid songs and bouncing his pecs at me. On some kind of personal mission to annoy the hell out of me. Or maybe get chucked out of the plane window by Mike Hancox. Someone fucking kill me now. A few hours into the flight to Chicago, when I’m halfway through some awful comedy film starring The Rock, a miracle happens. Seth “Ozzie” Osman falls asleep. This is AFTER he turned to me and Mafra, said, “Boys - do you dare me to flex in the aisle?” Then stood up, lifted his arms up in a big pretend yawn, then bought them back down into a double bicep pose (for FUCK’S sake) with his lips pursed in cocky fashion, before leaning forward into a quick crab most muscular (I kid you fucking NOT). Hancox, who’d caught the whole scene, was shaking his head. I turned to a smiling Mafra, practically lost for words. “I kinda like him!” Mafra confessed. I looked at him wide-eyed in disbelief. “He’s funny!” Jesus! When he wakes up, I’m tempted to take the piss out of him for falling asleep. But I REALLY don’t want to encourage him. He’s a bit more chilled out after that. No more songs. No more posing in the aisle. I’m surprised he doesn't go off to see if there are any pensioners on the plane he can give a heart attack to. By the time the plane finally lands, pretty much everyone is low on energy. Partly because it’s about four in the morning British time. Ugh. I feel like I could sleep for a fucking week. And yet, there’s an undeniable air of excitement. Because we’re here. In Chicago, America. For one of the biggest bodybuilding shows on the planet. It’s weird hearing everyone in the airport talking in American accents. It feels like I’ve slipped into a film. Keiran, Connell, Johnny and Hancox take the first cab to the hotel, leaving the rest of us to take the second. I make sure to stand as far away from fucking Ozzie as I can while we’re waiting outside the airport because I’ve had enough of sitting next to him for one lifetime. I have no idea if I’ll have to sit next to him again on the flight home. I might make Mafra sit next to him. I might even just sit next to the other third years. We may even be mates by then. I’ll stress about that when we have to leave on Sunday. By the time we get to our big fancy looking hotel, I feel like I’m ready to collapse. Ash and Mafra are roommates back at Montgomery so we agreed they’d bunk up and let me have the single room. I was half expecting Ash to put up a fight and say he wanted it instead. Not that I would’ve minded sharing with Mafra, to be fair. Walker seems to be taking a long time to get us checked in. He turns around, a slight look of confusion on his face. “Lads - who’s sharing with who?” “Me and Mafra,” Ash says. “I’m on my own,” I tell him. He frowns. “Okay, We’ve only got two twin rooms left for you guys.” Huh? I look at Ash. Then Mafra. Everyone’s got these looks on their faces. I look over to Ozzie, who’s buried in his phone, not paying attention. And then it hits me. No. No, no, NO. This can not be happening. I feel panicked. My chest is tight. “Ozzie, mate - which one of you third years was supposed to have a single room?” He pulls a face and shrugs. For FUCK’S sake. “Didn’t you sort it out with Kieran and Connell like I told you to?” “I don’t talk to those two!” he says, almost like the idea is fucking crazy. Walker groans and shakes his head. “It looks like Keiran and Connell have both taken singles.” I feel sick. And fucking pissed off. “I’m supposed to have my own room! We agreed it!” Walker gets his phone out. “Let me try the lads,” he says, putting his phone to his ear. Okay, don't panic. They’ll switch. Walker will MAKE them switch. Surely this is not going to go down the route I’m fearing it is. I can’t even bring myself to entertain that possibility right now. Me, Ash and Mafra are giving each other looks. Then Ash looks at Mafra and I SWEAR he fucking smirks a little. Like he’s laughing at my misfortune. I look at Ozzie. He’s straight-faced. He seems a bit baffled by the whole thing. “Neither of the lads is answering,” Walker says. He lets out a big sigh. “Right - this is what I’m proposing. Deano and Ozzie - you two share with each other tonight …,” ARGH! FUCK. NO. “We’ll talk to the lads tomorrow and see if we can sort something out then.” This. Can. Not. Be. Happening. I look over at Ozzie. He shrugs and says, “I don’t care,” but there’s this weird look on his face that tells me he’s secretly bothered. “Deano?” Walker says, giving me this look. “One night, mate!” My stomach’s churning. I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Fine!” Walker pats me on the back. “Good man. Try not to bloody kill each other!” he jokes. Ozzie doesn’t respond. He definitely looks bothered though. Or maybe he’s just embarrassed by the fact that I blatantly don’t wanna share with him. Could Seth “Ozzie” Osman actually have feelings? No - this is fucking Ozzie we’re talking about. The guy who strolls in late to every single meeting chewing on gum without a care in the world. The guy who sings on planes and poses in the middle of the aisle. And who didn’t give a shit when I ripped apart his posing. As if he’d care that I didn’t wanna share a room with him. We take the lift to our rooms. To my TWIN fucking room. That I’ll be sharing with an annoying, mohawked pec bouncer who seems intent on winding me up at every given opportunity. I can not believe those third-year twats have screwed me over like this. If only we’d taken the first cab. This wouldn’t be happening if we had. At least this is only for one night. Walker says he’ll sort this out tomorrow. He BETTER fucking had. Walker’s room is in the opposite direction to ours and Mafra and Ash’s room comes up first. I’m tempted to start knocking on random doors until I find both Kieran and Connell. Or whoever we find first, I’ll just drag them out and make them share with Ozzie and take their room for myself. (As if that would ever fucking work!) Ozzie dumps his suitcase and crashes down on one of the beds when we get to the room (without even negotiating with me first). He gets his phone out and gets lost in it. He hasn’t said one word to me since we got here. Is he pissed off at me? I really can’t tell. I should be thankful I suppose. At least he’s not singing at me and trying to wind me up. But his silence is making things feel kind of awkward. “I think I might just crash,” I say to him. “Do what you want, Little Dude,” he says, without looking up from his phone. He doesn’t really say it in a rude way. It’s more like … he genuinely just doesn’t care. Huh. Fine by me! When I come out of the bathroom, he’s already in bed. His thick tanned arms and shoulders bulging out of the top of the bed’s duvet as he plays with his phone (again). I think he might be topless. I feel weirdly self-conscious when I take my trackies off and change into a vest to sleep in. Which is ridiculous. I’ve already been stood in front of Ozzie in just my posing trunks. And will be again on Saturday. On stage. Backstage. In the tanning tents. “So, Little Dude … who you most looking forward to meeting tomorrow?” Ozzie says in his thick Welsh accent, still not looking up from his phone. Okay - so maybe he’s not mad at me after all. Maybe I got that completely wrong. “Erm. Probably Mitchell “The Machine” Murray?” I say as I climb into the bed about six or so feet from his. He screws up his face (ugh!) still not taking his eyes away from his screen. “Really?!” “Yeah?!” I say, defensively. He pulls another face. (UGH!) “You know he’s got a good shot of winning?” “Mmmm,” he finally puts his phone down. Then he rolls on his side to face me. His shoulders look fucking huge over the covers. Arms bulging. And those thick pecs. It really annoys me how good this guy’s physique is. His head doesn’t seem to go with his body. Maybe it’s because he’s quite baby-faced. “But he’s a newbie. I thought you were gonna say, like, Felix King?” I pull a face and shrug. IS it weird that I’m more looking forward to seeing someone like The Machine? I mean … yeah, of course I wanna meet Felix King. He’s, like, a total legend. But he doesn’t have those crazy leg veins. He doesn’t look like Chris Pratt. I probably wouldn’t fall for him and get my heart broken by him if he were a trainer at my dad’s gym. “What about you?” I ask him. “Easy. Austin Kaplan!” I let out a groan. “Shoulda known!” Austin Kaplan is this tall, blonde American dude who’s kind of quirky looking. He’s SO fucking cocky with his posing. He’s kind of known for it. He’s always sticking his tongue out, scrunching up his face and grunting and yelling with his posing. And he always does this thing where he pulls up the straps of his trunks (which are ALWAYS the shiny kind) for his front lat spreads. I’m not fucking surprised Ozzie’s a fan. Now that I think about it, some of Ozzie’s moves are actually very Austin Kaplan-like. “The Kapman’s a fucking legend!” Ozzie says, now smiling a little. “Don’t tell me - his posing’s too cocky for you?” “Yep!” I say, flatly. “You’ve gotta admire him for his physique though!” “Mmmm. I mean - the delts, yeah. And the quad conditioning. But … I dunno. I’ve always found the rest of him a bit … meh. His physique is kind of flat, you know? His muscles don’t have that bubble look.” “Like ours do, you mean?” Ozzie’s got this sort of cheeky smile on his face. I shrug, finding it hard not to smile back. “Oh, Little Dude …,” Ozzie says with a dramatic sigh, “if we’re gonna be best mates, we NEED to sort your posing out!” I side-eye him from my bed. I clear my throat pointedly. “Going to sleep,” I announce, turning away from him and flopping my head down on the pillow. “You need new trunks too!” I close my eyes, completely ignoring him. I hear Ozzie switching off the light near his bed and I open my eyes to find darkness. “Pssst. Little Dude,” Ozzie says in a hushed voice, ARGH! “What?” I say, through gritted teeth. “I have a confession.” I groan and ask him what through gritted teeth. “I planned it.” There’s a pause. “You and me sharing a room.” I open my eyes. Okay - he’s joking, right? He MUST be joking. “I told Kieran and Connell we wanted to share, so they could have the two singles.” I sit up and spin around. “Are you being serious?!” There’s another pause. And then I hear a little chuckle. “Nope!” I groan and lie back down. “You’re a knob!” “Oh yeah. About that. See ... I know you like to PRETEND that you don’t like me …,” “I’m really not pretending!” I interrupt. Ozzie laughs. “Savage! Anyway - I have a theory. Wanna hear?” “Nope!” I say flatly. Although there’s a part of me that’s strangely curious to know what he’s about to say. “I’m gonna tell you, anyway. Thing is … sometimes when we don’t like people, or we have a problem with someone, I think it’s because we see things in them that we recognise in ourselves.” Ummm … okay? What the hell is he going on about? “And maybe it’s stuff about ourselves that we don’t like?” “I have NO idea what you’re talking about,” I say flatly. But my brain is ticking over. “That can’t be true anyway.” “Why?” “Because I’m nothing like you.” “Okay, Little Dude,” he says casually. “Keep telling yourself that.” I can practically hear him smirking. For fuck’s sake. Ozzie doesn’t speak again (thank fuck). But now I’m suddenly more alert. And I’m thinking about what he just said. How the hell am I like Ozzie? There’s literally NO ONE like Ozzie. He’s one of a fucking kind. We’re both short arses and our dad’s own gyms. That’s it. That’s where the similarities end. What could I possibly recognise in Ozzie that I don’t like about myself? The boy is talking complete and utter bollocks. I realise I’m being ridiculous and put my new unwanted roommate out of my head and finally drift off to sleep. Thank God I only have to put up with him for one night.
  3. Today
  4. Sinner


    Ass so big thongs are completely shallowed between the cheeks is the hottest thing

  5. Mickeypuk

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    I’m more a bourbon cream guy but will gladly share a coffee with you
  6. zine


    literally gaining a ton of muscle is my ultimate goal... a literal ton of muscle...

    1. Sinner


      Grow, grow, grow

  7. Yesterday
  8. The Passion of flames by big Zargo Call Of The Cosmic Passion “Beire… Beire Tudor, my name is Beire Tudor,” the Cosmic Fire Titan had thought to himself with glee. It was all becoming clear to him now for unknown eons in this prison he was forced to sleep while his body masturbated so that he would live and not go mad. “Soon I will be free, and then my counterpart as well. Then we will take our revenge on our enemies and all those who helped her. I just had to make sure that the ones who carried my flame in themselves came to me willingly; The call I have set forth will bring them to me, but they must open the door,” he thought, as he closed his eyes remembering how the two Grizzly- Pyres made that priest praise his name. He stroked his ridiculously huge cock with the flames of hot plasma that he can control. Not all the Pyre-Bruins can maintain consciousness once he lets go of his control over them some will have to be guided to him. He mentally sighed to himself so many things can go wrong. The of the only thing we can count on is that his powers are addictive and that soon they would come to him to receive more. The most important question was how long he had and tell his enemies and/or this world’s natural defenders know about him and that he was active and planning to break free from his prison. He needed to hurry up and gain a physical form in that world as soon as possible. He knew that the Grizzly- Pyres would gladly sacrifice themselves to summon him, but it would not be wise wasting such useful assets, neither is being reborn in the infant’s body; speaking of which. Earth During the early mornings of 4 AM, a Pyre-Bruin is driving a Van with his partner sitting in shotgun. Both muscle monsters barely fit in the van as they made their way towards their destination. The last sounds of resistance can be heard as is the great master's influence took over the whole town. Both Pyre-Bruins were barely hanging on to consciousness, the haze of horny delight just around the corner in their minds. The blond muscle bear sat there in a shotgun looking back of the van to see the three women and another Pyre Bruin. The blond Pyre-Bruin did not how many women survived Beire Tudor take over but these in the van survived the contact with Pyre Bruin seed: one of them transform into a Pyre-Bruin while the other three became pregnant. The lucky ones if he can call that were any other female or children who made any physical contact with any pyre Bruins; They were now in some kind of magically induced coma. But then why did he kill his wife the blond Pyre-Bruin thought to himself. “Interesting you remember that,” Beire said to the lonely blonde Pyre-Bruin. Within seconds of making mental contact, the blond Pyre-Bruin came shooting a load onto his makeshift pants. The other Pyre-Bruin that was driving the car heard the conversation as well by the way his eyes widened, and a wet spot appearing on his makeshift pants was a clear indication of his pleasure. “Maybe you’re not as weak as I thought you were. Very few of those who I bestowed power to remember what happened afterward especially when they enter a berserk state. She must have done something very destructive to you for berserk mode to activate. I must admit I had the priorities set to kill all females regardless of age,” Beire said casually. Both pyre Bruins blanched, and their cocks softened for a second before their horniness took over as their master continued talking. “Of course, that was on the last parameters at the time, the sisters of pristine were attacking me. Of course, none of them were able to do anything to me and my army but her. If they think I will show any mercy to children then they are the fools for the minute they cast offenses spell or lift any sort of weapon in defense, then they are considered combatants. Besides, I so love crushing the week. The way they scream and beg for mercy as I end their pathetic lives, makes me shiver inside. Frosty is so wise; Why not instead of killing or crushing the weak, Why-not turn all those wasted assets into useful tools, he said, while reminiscing of nostalgic memories. It was getting pretty hard for the two Pyre-Bruins to fit in the big van their prolonged contact with Beire was causing them to slowly transform into Grizzly-Pyres. Luckily for them, they were near the destination, and they would have to go on foot from the rest of the journey back to the forest where it all began. A malevolent clarity came to Both men’s eyes as the midpoint of their destination was coming up. Any doubt or guilt about their actions was burning away against Beire’s power. All they were looking forward to Beire being summoned to this world, and delivering their packages to the breach was their goal. The Pyre-Bruins opened the van back doors almost ripping it off the hinges in the process. Each Pyre-Bruin began pulling out the human cargo. “My raw power acts very unpredictably when it comes to females. Some will be transformed into male Pyre-Bruins, while others may transform into female Pyre-Bruin which is extremely rare, some like the ones before you might become pregnant able to somehow internalize my power and create a life with it, some of them were able to become fire sorcerers and/or fire witches and others would just die either immediately or slowly,” Beire said to his two changing Pyre-Bruins. The three women were laid out delicately on the hard gravel parking lot. Beire was looking through his servant's eyes, he quick examination of the three women. The blond Pyre-Bruin kneeled next to one of them. She was turning gray and hot red cracks were starting to form all over her skin, both in dispassion and what little mercy the blond Pyre-Bruin had; he simply placed his pointer finger on top of her forehead and slowly pushed down. No crack of the skull none of her precious life essence spilling for, just her head caving in, and turning into ash, and like a chain reaction, it spread to the rest of her body only leaving a pile of dust which was quickly blown away. Unable to handle the power Beire thought. The blond Pyre-Bruin effortlessly picked up the two women and nodded to the other Pyre-Bruin to pick up the other sleeping Pyre-Bruin in the back of the van. They started heading towards where it all began and by the time, they made it there they would no longer be Pyre-Bruins; even now their makeshift pants are slowly stretching and tearing against their slowly growing bodies. Beire Beire left his focus off of the two changing Pyre-Bruins. With most if not all the men in town now under his control, he commanded all of his Grizzly-Pyres and Pyre-Bruins to come to him, to come to the place where it all started, where he breached the world. He felt that the commands were received and being followed. He needed to start thinking of ways to convince these humans to break the veil on this world called Earth and this prison dimension. Here at least needed 200 men for him to be summoned onto Earth. Jack first person I was in some kind of drawing room with a couch, a big red comfy chair thinks it was called the club, and a small little table in between both of them and in front of the fireplace which to blazed with heat. In the big comfy club with a man in a suit and as I got closer more details became apparent. He had tanned skin as if he worked all day in the sun, he also had a long silver beard complemented with the long hair tied up into a ponytail, big round nose on a jolly-looking face. The man was also huge and heavily muscular for his suit looked like it was struggling to contain the huge body inside of it. But most disturbing of all was his eyes gray with a hint of a rainbow and filled with cruelty inside. The man both repulsed me and compel me to come closer. “Come closer here Jack and set down and relax,” the mysterious man said to me, in a deep strong voice. Jack sat down on the couch finding it comfortable. The mysterious man who looked comfortable as he relaxed on his chair waited for me to start the conversation. “Who are you and where am I?” I asked the mysterious man. “Well, my name is Beire and where we are in somewhere Fancy,” the mysterious man said with a friendly smile. “Somewhere Fancy is a strange name, is it?” I said in confusion. Beire just shrugs his huge shoulders in answer. “May I ask you something Jack,” Beire asked? “Yeah? But how do you know my name?” I asked him back. “Well, you told me before we met here Jack for your interview. I want to ask what you want Jack because I need you for something that I know you can help me with,” Beire said. “But I already have a job. I work at the supermarket, and when did I already tell you my name, I don’t remember signing up for a job interview,” I said in confusion. “Well, I did just interview your friends Ryan, Santiago, and James. they were quite willing to help me once he heard my offer except for James. But before we can bargain for your work, I need to know what you want.” Beire asked? “What kind of job is this. You seem curious to figure out what I want, but I don’t know what you want?” I asked him. “Well. it’s quite simple and complicated at the same time I just need you to open that door,” Beire said in a jolly matter, lifting his left hand and pointing at the door at the end of the room. I turned my face to see the door that he was pointing at. It was a big red square door with a golden handle on it and looked very easy to open. I looked back at the man with a puzzled looked on my face as I spoke. “You wanted me to open that door?” He nodded his head. “I’m afraid you’re the only one who could open it I can’t,” Beire said. “What’s behind that door,” I asked? “Power,” Beire said. “Why can’t you open the door?” I said. “I could open the door but then I wouldn’t have to pay you. That would make you kind of useless to me and for you, I think that would be a bad thing,” Beire said with a pinch of seriousness. “So, what you’re going to kill me if I don’t open the door, or are you going to keep me here in this room forever?” I said. “In a perspective, I could, but when get what I want.” “And what is that,” I asked? “Freedom,” he said in a deep and serious voice. I slightly backed away from him, his intense stare piercing my soul finding me wanting. Beire brings out a strange bottle, with a liquid that was orange like fire, the bottle itself was insubstantial as the wind, the label black as coal and unreadable, and at the sight of it, my mouth started to water. “You like it, don’t you boy, you thirst for it, even though you don’t remember drinking it. But you have and I can get you more of it. it's just behind that door you just need to open the door for me,” Beire said. I stood there for a second panting and thirsting for that bottle. “What have you done to me? Why am I suddenly so thirsty, I asked? “This,” he said, shaking the bottle. “You could say its power and that all men desire power in some shape or form and what I have done to you was quite simple. I gave you a taste of it, and now you crave more of it,” Beire said. I walked closer with my hand stretched out, like a beggar pleading for food. Beire shook the bottle like he was ringing a bell. “Come closer and let me remind you of the power that all men desire,” he said. He handed me the strange drink and like a man in the desert dying of thirst and I drink it; with strength, I did not know I had, I removed the cork like plucking a dandelion before drinking its contents. It was not like the fire that poured down my throat instead it was more like feeding the fire that was already inside my belly. I knew that I wanted… no needed more of this fire inside me and that I would do anything for more of it. Beire’s devilish smile would have unnerved me if I didn’t feel like a druggie craving for his next fix. “That drink will not satisfy you, For it is simply a memory, a taste for what is to come. You will need to open the door to get the real stuff. I need you to open the door and when you do all will become clear,” he said, as everything faded to black. My eyelids felt heavy, and my body had felt like stone, as I was leading down on the ground. Sunlight was beaming down onto my face and the whisper of wind was kissing my body. I slowly got up, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Memories of the strange dream were playing back through my head and eventually, they ended. Leaving me to realize that I was in the middle of the forest and I had no idea where civilization was. I slowly got up, noticing and feeling that my body had changed. my big hand was like bear paws, with sausages fingers attached to them, my arms and legs are extremely huge and beefy. My strong barrel chest was attached with huge meaty pecs with a big strong belly and wide with both shoulders and waist. I could best describe myself as a big hairy caveman with hair covering me all over. I even felt my face to find a beard had grown on it. My cock was long and wide and hard as an iron rod. Gone was my average 20-year-old body now…. I felt that there was some kind of fire inside me, every flex caused a strange burning sensation to pass through my body. I began masturbating because my cock was needy and hard and there was no one around. I should be looking for food or water while trying to find my way back home but I was so god damn horny. That I needed to rub my thick cock I needed to feed the fire inside me; It grew and grew as I came closer to the edge, my cock was hot as fire. As madness came over me I continued to…. I heard the sounds of crunching leaves as I turned around to see a man. he was wearing clothes that you would see a hiker, a green jacket, blue jeans, brown boots, and a huge backpack with camping gear inside it. The man was skinny and with the tan look of one who went outside a lot. He was caught in the motions of leaving with his camera in his right hand. a second of Time had stopped for me, for a strange and sexy thought popped into my head. Worship… Worship. My hot throbbing cock twitched at this thought. I do not know how to flex like a bodybuilder but simply trying what I knew and saw. At first, the man slowly backed away but the longer he looked at me, the longer he took in my musk, the more his defenses went down. “Worship me little man or I will crush you and leave your corpse to rot,” I said in a deep gruff voice in a threatening tone. The voice was not me, those words were not my own and yet they came from me, the fire inside me feeding this darkness that was Is inside me. The way the man shook and shivered as he approached me, told me that he was both afraid and excited, and yet I felt the same as him; as the fire inside me was blazing out of control. The hiker took off his heavy backpack as he came closer to me. With tentative fingers, he brushed his hand across my hairy chest feeling the muscles underneath the skin. He slowly began to explore my huge hairy body starting with my chest, then my thick thighs, my surprisingly muscular back, and finally my arms. The man’s cock was hard as my own with pre-cum staining his pants. So far he was worshiping me with his hands but now he began with his tongue. He began sniffing and licking one of my hairy armpits moving towards my pecs as he made his way to the other armpit. This power I had over this man was changing me and it was for the worst. This was Beire’s power and it is still changing me. More and more I think I was inheriting more of Beire traits and desires. This was just a taste of Beire power and the most scariest thing of all is that I wanted more of it and soon the hiker would want more of it as well. I now knew what Beire truly wanted, but should I try to stop him, can I stop him. If I help him, he is most likely going destroy the world or take it over, and the scariest part of it all is…. I want to help him. “My cock is hungry for your ass, little man. Come satisfy it,” I said. The little man immediately turned around for me and pulled down his pants and offered his ass to me. With a sadistic smile on my face, I plunged my huge cock into the little man's tight hole; He screams in both pain and pleasure spittle coming out from his lips. Each thrust of my hips was like a man pumping a balloon; for with every thrust I gave he grew. I consciously gave in to Beire’s power as I took great pleasure in spreading his influence to this little man. By the 10th thrust, his clothes were getting tight against his growing body, by the 30th thrust his clothes were barely hanging on his bulky body, by the 60th thrust his clothes were completely off to him and on the ground as scraps, by the 80th thrust our huge hairy balls slamming against each other, by the hundredth thrust he was a huge hairy muscle bear and by the time I came, he was a drooling Pyre-Bruin ready to obey our master. I kept thrusting into the new Pyre-Bruin waiting for him to come for the second time. I felt some kind of call beckoning me deeper into the woods. A call that I could feel deep within my bones. A call I had re-harden my fat cock. “I guess I can go for another round before heading to the door. power awaits,” I thought to myself as I smiled. Beire The time will soon approach and soon he would be free. The cold of the void was encroaching on him. The prison trying to prevent its prisoner from escaping. He felt so tired as the fire inside of him was burning away. For all his vast power and intellect, the prison drained him and use the power to help contain him and his partner. The only way for him and his partner to escape was help from an outside force. He could have the Pyre-Bruins spread like wildfire consuming the world in their mindless lust, but he would not be free, and he would be consciously able to observe but not partake. By the time his Pyre-Bruins took over this world, they would not be any condition to free him or his partner. He had to hope that the offering of power would entice them into inviting him into their world.
  9. Pumped

    m/m The Repository - (Complete Story, 10/15/21)

    TQuintA, I believe we need to thank you for taking us on a wonderful journey. We spent many hours vicariously reveling in a fantasy world featuring the two major obsessions on this site: every growing massive muscle and the monster endowments that out scale the muscle Gods they are attached to. Can’t wait to see more from you in whatever form or platform you choose. cheers
  10. TQuintA

    m/m The Repository - (Complete Story, 10/15/21)

    Thank you to all of my readers. Your feedback was incredibly flattering. I especially want to thank you if you read the whole thing starting back in June. I didn't expect it to take four months to post the whole thing, but I knew it would take a while. Normally, this is the part where I give little snippets about behind the scenes stuff, but The Repository is so absurdly long that almost nothing got cut. Only one chapter did. Originally, Puck and Vaughn did go to the high school reunion. But it was a weirdly rushed, largely uninteresting chapter. More importantly, it detracted from Puck pulling away from Vaughn, which is where that section was always going. The only plot-related bit in that deleted chapter was Gregg giving Vaughn ten pounds permanently, and I worked that in without the whole reunion. The few interesting bits of color from that chapter--the plane ride, the hotel room, learning Gregg had two husbands--were cannibalized and incorporated elsewhere (the trip to Vancouver and the phone call with Gregg in Part 5, respectively). I do miss some little touches from that chapter that I wasn't able to save: Puck gave a long speech about the virtues of hotel room sex, and, at the reunion, Puck dressed garishly in the school's colors (orange and blue) and wore a nametag that said "Robin Goodfellow." But, none of this could save the whole chapter. Trust me, the version you got was stronger because they didn't go to the reunion. The only other bit I cut that I miss was some follow-up on Steele and Rhodes. Rhodes, it turns out, had fathered a love child when he was in high school and Rhodes is now an out and proud gay man. Margaret told Vaughn these things in Part 4 when she was looking for any skeletons in Vaughn's closet. However, it was a lengthy distraction for characters I doubt few people cared about. Thank you--again--for reading.
  11. diegomesa

    muscle-growth College Hulk Part 7

    do you keep and archive of your work?
  12. muscleaddict

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    Haha! Yeah - it's never gonna happen! Us Brits don't really do therapy anyway. We just get the Custard Creams out and put the kettle on.
  13. GymPredator

    growth To Protect and Serve - Chapter 10.3e (Posted 22 Oct 2021)

    Author's Note - I will add the Google Doc link to this section when I post the second half in a few days. This section is 41 pages long. So, for easy of reading, I split it into two pieces. So... the preview I posted is still yet to come Chapter 10 - The Titan on Olympus - Part 3e - Coeus Emerges “You had to have it all / Well have you had enough? / You greedy little bastard / You will get what you deserve / When all is said and done / I will be the one / To leave you in your misery / And hate what you've become” ~ Breaking Benjamin, Had Enough Immediately following Chapter 10.3d…. Predator/Gabriel then got a sinister gleam in his eye, “John, would you mind showing the Runt what he has to look forward to if he is a good judge when comparing us...” John got a devilish, Predator smile on his face as he started to struggle with his sleeve to pull it up, but not to tear it when he flexed. Predator/Gabriel poked his finger hard at the bony flat biceps as he said into Clawson’s face: “The first little introductory comparison in judging our little contest.” “Runt’s arm…” Less than a foot from Clawson's open mouth, Gabriel held up his right arm and flexed a large, navel orange sized ball that was on its way to transforming into something closer to a softball lept into existence. He pointed to the rock hard sphere of perfection and said: “Man’s arm...” He then grabbed the back of Clawson’s head and forced him to look at John. As he held Clawson fast in his grip, John flexed his literal cannon into life. Predator/Gabriel whispered in the nothing’s ear: “God’s arm…” Clawson tried to inhale a gasp, but he was in such shock that no sound even came out. Game on... The Runt fell backwards into the seat. Indeed without the chair to catch him, he went so limp that he would have collapsed onto the ground. Predator/Gabriel laughed hard as he felt the tiny head between his hands begin to shake. He let go of his grip, and despite his total lack of muscle power, the Runt’s head and eyes were frozen on the mountain, totally mesmerized by the sight of John as he began to slowly pump his biceps back and forth, the giant brown eyes boring a hole in the tiny brain. Seeing this reaction, Predator/Gabriel decided to twist the screws in Clawson faster and harder than he had originally intended. He slowly put a hand at the center of the Runt’s back and guided him to stand up. Clawson offered no resistance to Predator/Gabriel at all; As Gabirel maneuvered him across the floor, it was as if his brain were on auto-pilot… while both the pilot and co-pilot were out of the cockpit out to lunch. As Predator/Gabriel was walking the pair toward John very slowly, John became curious. He began to intently listen to Predator/Gabriel as he was softly talking into the Runt’s ear, twisting the weak little mind that was now squarely in John and Gabriel’s hands. John marveled at how his man had such an instinct for this. It was so different to what he would do in the same situation. But in some ways, it was even more degrading. That voice, those words - the temptation was insidious. Even the timing of the footsteps forward, reinforced what he was whispering in that ear. “You know how BIG that is, Runt?” *step* “I sure do…” *step* “See, I get to measure that monster,” *step* “I get to measure every other muscle on that giant body too. *step* “Every single week.” *step* “But, you know what” *step* “I SLEEP next to him every night.” *step* “FEEL that muscle whenever I want.” *step* “So HARD. So BIG.” *step* “I am bigger than you imagined possible” *step* “Stronger than you can comprehend” *step* “So STRONG that I can make you walk right now wherever I want.” *step* “Imagine how STRONG that muscle alone is.” One last *step* and Predator/Gabriel had them both standing in the growing shadow of John, GROWING as he pulled back from Braden and stood looming over them both. “You want to know how BIG that is? You wanna know more than anything, right Runt? Well, let me give you an idea. Just a small idea of who you tried to take advantage of. What size pants do you wear Runt?” The Runt tried to answer, but when his mouth opened all that escaped was a whisper so soft it was barely distinguishable from a gurgle of shock. Predator/Gabriel gave a knowing but disgusted laugh. “Huh, figures. When faced with an actual MAN, you can’t even talk. No wonder you have to stage this prefabricated nonsense. It's the only way you can utter a word. Just another reason you are not a MAN. So, I guess a MAN is going to have to do the work for you again.” Gabriel pulled back the trousers slightly and pulled up a tag from the inside rear belt lining. “John, this says a twenty-eight inch waist and a twenty-eight inch inseam. I am guessing that is a little generous with how scrawny you are; but, let’s take it. That would appear to be the only way that you and I are even close to the same league Runt. My waist is 29 and a half inches. An inch different, but worlds away. And this… this is the difference between a flea and a god. Predator/Gabriel looked up. “John, flex your forearm and hold it up next to this pathetic sack.” John got a BROAD smile. He KNEW what he was about to see. John dropped to one knee and extended his left arm down. He cocked his wrist in and flexed. A forearm that looked like an entire bowling lane’s worth of bowling pins exploded into life. Veins as thick as the Runt’s fingers extended toward the wrist. Thick and thin, those veins wrapped and snaked around a writhing mass so big that single bands of the individual flexor and extensor muscle, the individual pieces of the brachialis and brachioradialis, were as thick as the Runt’s wrist. John planted his cocked fist onto the ground and flexed harder with the mild resistance of the floor to push against. Predator/Gabriel brought the Runt and stood him next to it. The picture was worth more than any amount of words could say. “Look at that sad sight, Runt. That is a MAN’s FOREARM and it is bigger than your waist. Fucking hell, it is almost as big as your sunken-in chest. Look at it little shit. How can you be a man or even a boy when a normal infant’s waist is bigger than a man’s forearm. BUT, YOU. ARE. NOT. ” It was true. Every single word Predator/Gabriel said was true. John’s 30.5 inch forearm was actually LARGER around than Clawson’s waist. If he had forced his forearm down an empty pair of the Runt’s trousers, he would have popped the waist stitching and destroyed the seams. John’s wrist alone was bigger than the runt’s calves, his whole arm longer than the Runt’s entire length of leg… and both by an easily distinguishable amount. His arm and fist would have blown those tiny pants apart. A deep, low, “Holy Fuck” escaped Braden’s mouth as the full monumental size of the man who had been holding him truly set in. He could not help but reach out and touch the closest part of John he could, the huge right outer quad John was kneeling on. He felt nothing but warm, hard titanium, even though John’s quad was unflexed. John responded by gilding the now kneeling Braden around with his right hand until he was within range of the flexed mammoth forearm. He took Braden’s much smaller hand and began to give him a slow, guided, wordless tour of twisted cords of muscle and veins - all in front of the Runt’s eyes. Seeing Braden touching that forearm seemed to do something to the Runt. All of a sudden, he shook violently and another of those high-pitched, gasping, girlish-screams came from him. Almost immediately as the screaming noise began to still, John began to laugh - a deep, nearly-uncontrollable guffaw. Predator/Gabriel could hear the laugh of John’s Predator, and heard the lilt of his deep voice explode, “Oh FUCK, GABRIEL.” John’s Predator was almost convulsing with laughter as he actually had to take a breath before he could go on between the laughs. “The tiny fuck just came in his pants. It had to be a huge load for him, but it is so fucking pitiful, you can’t see it. But I can fucking smell it. Holy Shit. Just seeing me made him fucking shoot. Nobody has ever done that before. Not even that fucking waste of space before. What a pathetic little bitch this is...” At that moment, despite John’s Predator’s laughter, seeing all the muscles so tantalizingly close to him, seeing Braden feeling it, seeing John not only allowing it but guiding it, encouraging it… The Runt tried to reach out to touch. BUT-- Predator/Gabriel’s reaction to the movement of the Runt’s hand was almost at the speed of John’s reflexes. Predator/Gabriel grabbed the back of the loose tank top in one hand and the waistband of his pants in the other and ripped the Runt away from John. He dragged the Runt’s body away, meter after meter, until Predator/Gabriel planted him back in the chair he started out in. Predator/Gabriel put his huge arms on either of the chair’s arm rests and leaned in so far his nose was almost touching the Runt’s. The voice that came from Gabriel’s mouth was ice-chillingly cold, despite the words he was using and the power of them. The clinically detached lack of emotion made them almost frighteningly chilling. “You were about to break the first rule, Runt. AL-FUCKING-READY. You goddamned disgust me. “Did I tell you to TOUCH? NO. Did John tell you to TOUCH? NO. I told you to LOOK. So LOOK Look right fucking now.” Predator/Gabriel forced the Runt to look over to where John had again sat down, with Braden back in position between his legs leaning against his abs. Both were watching what was happening while at the same time John continued to guide Braden on his tour of John’s body. “Look at Braden there. He is a MAN. He is right next to raw power, FEELING that power with his own hands. Enjoying it, but respectful. In control of himself. He isn’t cumming like some cheap whore. But you? You shot that pitiful load just seeing John. You’re worse than any teenage boy suffering from premature ejaculation. At least he is still a boy and hasn’t been exposed to a body before.” Then a predatory cold smile akin to a great white shark came across Predator/Gabriel’s lips. “Given that reaction to just looking, you might have a full on myocardial infarct and die if you actually touch him.” The emotionless tone took on a hint of something John could swear was a tiny hint of glee, “Looks like, for your own safety, it is gonna have to be a VISUAL search only of John. Can’t have you fucking orgasming to death… or can we...” His eyes bore into the Runt’s as it was clear he had a malicious idea, “I’m going to take care of some MAN things. Don’t move a single centimeter from that spot until I get back. Got me Runt?” Instantly, Clawson seemed to freeze in place, while his head slowly bobbed up and down, “Yes Sir.” Predator/Gabriel snickered under his breath as he turned around and started walking to where John and Braden were sitting. It was hilarious and exhilarating to have Clawson’s body unconsciously obey him like that. Having someone as nasty as Clawson was under his control, and coming even more under control by the second… The Gabriel part of him sounded a warning to the Predator part. As fun as this was and was yet to be correcting this being’s behavior and place in life, he had to be careful. John got carried away by this once and it cost him… a lot. It cost him so much that he was only now beginning to really recover from the loss of his job and find a new self. To protect John, to protect their secret, to do what he must after they return from their honeymoon, to fulfil his promise to John to never let there be another, HE MUST not endanger his job. The Predator part of him understood - he was going to warp this insect, but he could not crush him. John had taught him how to stay in control, and above all things in the universe, every part of Gabriel was devoted to loving and honoring John. He had the will. He would not do what was so tempting to do and would be so easy for him… he had given his word to John. When Predator/Gabriel got close enough to talk to the pair softly, John was giving Braden a guided tour of his left lower quad through his pants leg. They may as well have been spray-tanned on, the cloth was so tight now. Predator/Gabriel could tell Braden so wanted to give in and abandon himself to total lust. He couldn’t cast stones as he knew all too well what effect John had on anyone when you were in the position Braden was. But Braden didn’t. Predator/Gabriel could see his self-worth and pride, his interest in seeing what happened to his pissant boss, and… something else holding him back. Predator/Gabriel could see the glint of it in the hot Marine concierge's eyes. Even as sex-hazed as they were feeling John’s incredible body and responding to his augmented human pheromones, it was there… fear. He stepped up very close to Braden and whispered quietly, “Braden, do you have any more of those business cards with your name on them? Like you gave us?” “Sure. In my jacket pocket,” Braden replied, almost humming in the throws of the haze. “Take what you like.” “Thank you.” Predator/Gabriel said, and then he added one more thing… “And Braden…” Braden looked up. “Trust is a two way street, remember. We trust you. Don’t hold back. Don’t be afraid. Ask John what you need to ask him.” Braden looked shocked as Gabriel quickly patted him on the shoulder before he began to move away. He had no idea Gabriel was so perceptive that he could see the question, which was leading to more questions, still unanswered at the center of his mind. Gabriel walked over to where Braden had folded his jacket. He carefully removed six business cards, and then he replaced the jacket just as he found it. At least his own time at Eton had taught him how to fold uniforms…. *** As Gabriel walked away, John kept guiding Braden’s hand around his teardrop before moving it up the interior quad toward the hip flexors. He had sensed the hesitation of course, but he wanted Braden to broach the subject in his own time. Perhaps Gabriel had noticed something he did not. It seemed to be the case with what he said. So, as he allowed that calloused weightlifter’s hand to explore more, he leaned down, “What do you want to ask me, Braden? Given what we are doing to each other, and what I am helping you do... it seems like we should be past the point where you can ask me what is on your mind. Go ahead. No question you will ever ask me again is off limits. I may have to give an abbreviated answer here, but when I can, you have my word I will answer in full. So, what is it?” “John…” Braden paused for one moment, but then he decided fuck it. Just let it out. “There was no way in the world to tell that what was going on with Clawson was that he had cum. None. Not a stain on his pants, that whatever it was yell was like a fan girl, not sexual. Beyond that he barely made a drooling whimper. So how--” “How could I know? Did I really know just by smelling it?” Braden nodded yes unto the back of John’s abs. John thought at length, but what was a microsecond for the rest of the planet before he replied. “Braden, for the moment, I am going to have to ask you to trust me in a few things. Some things I will be happy to share with you that I will not share around the Runt. EVER. “Now, I will say that I am a trained observer and I do it VERY well. That said… the short answer to your question is yes. I smelled it. The next obvious question is how, right?” Braden nodded again. “Well, let me say it this way for the moment. Is it fair to say that I am physically the biggest and the strongest man you have ever seen? A very special man with some special abilities like having REALLY big and strong muscles that no one else has.” “Yes SIR.” “Never call me Sir, again. I’m John. Nothing more. Not to you anyway. I’m John. Just like I am 41 years old, and I promise I will never call you Son, even though you technically could be.” “41!?!? You’re shitting me. You look younger than Gabriel, and he is--” “Just turned 30. But, I turn 41 in a couple of weeks. That is as true as me being the Predator in Apex Predator - that no one has figured out before you who was not an actual informant, by the way. Like I said, you could theoretically be my son, but I will NEVER look that old. “Just like I have a very special ability to get very big and be very strong, I also have the ability to look a LOT younger than I am. Can’t claim it as something I have worked on like my body. It just is. I have other special abilities that I rarely show outsiders too. You may see a few others tonight before we are done with Clawson. But like I said, when you see enough and you say yes you are willing to see it all, we will let you into our world and you will see everything I can do. So, can you be patient that long for me?” Braden turned around, and he rubbed John’s leg harder, but more sensuously, “Yes I can. And, thank you…” Braden then cocked a mischievous jock Cheshire cat smile that would have made the bad boy proud, “...Daddy.” “Why you scrawny fuck,” John said chuckling as he pulled Braden’s exploring hand toward his granite abs. “I’ll get you back for that one.” *** Meanwhile, cards in hand, Predator/Gabriel walked back to where Clawson was sitting. Clawson had looked so “in control” thirty minutes ago, but now, with Gabriel and John’s work on him, even the veneer of basic humanity was starting to wear thin. His eyes darted back and forth between John and Gabriel as he still sat frozen where Predator/Gabriel had left him. Those eyes had an animalistic look about them - as if he were prey, cornered and desperate… but the prey did not look for escape. Predator/Gabriel could almost read the Runt’s thoughts even before the Runt had them. He wanted what Braden had … respect, care, and most importantly, the ability to access those bodies - so badly that it was starting to break down what was “civilized” about him. It felt like torture - to see one muscular Adonis so completely take him over, while a god among men sat just a few meters away giving another what he craved. He would have dove on that muscle if he could. The only thing that was holding him in place, keeping him from running straight toward what he wanted so badly, was fear. Fear of losing everything. If he disobeyed the looming British physique god too much, all the three would tell his superiors what he had done, and that would get back to his mother. These men were of such import that they would be believed instantly. Security knew something was wrong with all of this. And he had been foolish enough to have 4,000 dollars in chips in his pocket - tips he had stolen. It was on camera and there would be testimony. Sexual contact, assault, felony theft. All any of them had to do was tell the truth about this and he would be ruined. An employee and unimpeachable MEN like them versus his word? Who would possibly be believed? And then, there was what was in his pants if he were arrested and searched. He was humiliated. He knew he shot nothing compared to normal men but it was his DNA. And again their testimony and the circumstantial evidence. He would go to jail and then…. But, deep down within him, so, so deep down... he loved it. A dark, but growing part of him loved what they were doing to him. It loved being controlled, at their mercy. It loved the chance to obey… superior men. He could not leave without showing the stains in his pants which would make him a laughing stock; but, half of him wanted to be seen. He HAD to keep what he had done a secret. Yet, half of him WANTED them to tell. Half of him wanted to keep pretending, keep the secret, and the other half kept whispering… Be used. You belong here. Imagine how they would use you in jail. So sexy, so much muscle. Like these three. The pulling voices inside his mind had Clawson frozen in place… and slowly, those voices were destroying him. Just like Predator/Gabriel KNEW they would. Predator/Gabriel relished the look. The fear, the eyes darting, the lust, the constant bouncing back and forth. Thanks to John teaching him how to read people, he knew exactly what it meant. That he was getting closer. And now he was going to push that craving half more and more and more… until it broke him. It was time to give the runt what he wanted. Predator/Gabriel spread out the business cards on a table and rotated the Runt’s chair so he could see clearly. “OK, Runt. I could see you were looking at them. So, let me explain. Braden is doing a preliminary search of John. John is even being so kind as to help him do it, big as he is. That way, we keep that bad little ticker of yours all safe and sound. Meanwhile, you and me… we are going to take our little search and have some fun with it. You wouldn’t be opposed to a little fun?” Predator/Gabriel went on before Clawson could even start to answer. “Good, I knew you would understand. Let’s start our little contest.” Predator/Gabriel grabbed a pen he kept in his trouser pocket and wrote on the back of each card the following words: ABS ARMS QUADS/HAMSTRINGS CALVES BACK CHEST As he did he started to explain in his “Professor” style voice as if he were talking to a kindergartener. “We are in Las Vegas, so it seems only appropriate to introduce a little chance into our game. Make it a bit of a gamble. So, let’s call this six-card muscle monte.” Predator/Gabriel flipped all the cards on the table and began to mix them exactly the way a confidence trickster would with three-card monte. “We are gonna mix all these cards up and then you are gonna tell me which card to draw at random, one at a time. That card is gonna tell you which part of my body you can search. And at the same time, which part of my body you are gonna judge for its size and symmetry and hardness and muscularity. AND the best part is- if you are very good with me, if you show me you can handle it without spilling the contents of those micro-bollocks all over the place, John MIGHT let you play the same thing with him. With Braden doing the searching, I am sure some of the pressure will be off, “Predator/Gabriel snickered. “How’s that sound? Now, are you gonna be a good Runt for me and be the best little obedient judge you can be?” Clawson feverishly nodded his head yes. “Still can’t open that Runt mouth of yours can you? It really is hopeless to ever make you a man. But, I guess I can’t expect you to behave like a man either. That would be unfair. All we can ever hope for is for you to be the best Runt you can be. “Alright, with that feeble little brain of yours, I can’t expect you to play this game correctly unless I demonstrate a turn. So let’s pick this one for me to ‘instruct’ you on what to do,” Predator/Gabriel pointed his finger seemingly at random card after card..... Seemingly as he actually had discretely marked every card as he was writing on them. He knew what each card was. So, in reality, it was not random at all when his finger stopped on a card. Predator/Gabriel picked the card up, turned it over, and handed it to Clawson so he could read it. CHEST “So, we start out with pecs. That sound good to you runt?” Clawson squeaked out quietly, but distinctly, “Yes… Sir, Doctor York.” “Good boy. You spoke. You are learning. Then again, even a puppy can learn to speak on command. So that isn’t saying much. Stay right where you are, while I get ready.” Predator/Gabriel turned Clawson’s chair so that it was facing away from the table and once again gave full view to Gabriel’s body standing before him. And, then, almost as an afterthought, Predator/Gabriel added, “Oh, and Runt, one more thing. One more rule to our little game. You see, this is Vegas and in Monte, the person playing HAS to have something to lose. Some kind of stakes. But, as it is, you have nothing to lose. So, let’s give you some stakes to lose. “If you can keep that micro-dicklet of yours under control for this whole search then you win. You get to satisfy what you wanted bringing us here AND you keep the stakes. BUT - if you don’t, you are gonna lose your stakes. “You’ll still get to feel muscle, maybe, but every time you lose control and shoot those droplets you call a load, John is gonna tell me even if it is too small to see, and then you are gonna lose a comp to me. And not just any comp you want to name. But, a comp of MY choosing. Nothing can be too extravagant. No comp is off the table. You lose and I can choose ANYTHING that is not illegal. And remember, we have our own MAN of a concierge sitting there who knows about every comp there is and can tell if you are lying to get out of your wager. And if you lie to me… well, the last one like you who lied to John didn’t exactly end up in the best place on earth. And, I am not as forgiving as John is. Those are the rules of our little contest, and you know how important it is for you to obey the rules. Understood?” Predator/Gabriel walked up within a couple of steps of the seated Clawson as the small male nodded his ascent. “Now.” Predator/Gabriel’s smile devilishly exploded across his face so sexily that the smile alone made Clawson’s groin spasm. “Want to see me take this tank top off?” In response to the mere thought, Clawson froze in place again. All that escaped his lips as they opened was an exhale followed by a tiny line of drool from the right corner of his lips as he nodded yes. “Now, you know better than that. That’s twice in a row you haven’t spoken in reply to a question from me. Remember what I said about how you can even teach a pup to speak on command. So it should be easy for a Runt like you… unless you really are just an animal. Now, if you want me to take it off, you are supposed to say what?” “Please, Doctor York.” “Please what?” “Please take off the tank top Sir.” Predator/Gabriel’s smile heightened the sexual tension even more as it rang broadly. He locked his sky blue eyes into Clawson’s and with that smile grinding the Runt’s groin, he reached down and grabbed the ends of the tank. Predator/Gabriel slowly, relentlessly teased Clawson, pulling the tank up very slowly, wiggling like he was having a hard time getting it up, then pulling it back down and starting over. Predator/Gabriel and John heard Clawson’s breathing become ragged, gasping as over and over again, a hint of Gabriel’s abs could be seen before they would disappear again. Between the incredibly sexy smile, the near striptease, and the rocketing anticipation of seeing Gabriel shirtless, Clawson was near cumming again. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Gabriel allowed the shirt to fully pull up and off, and he dropped it on the floor. Again, just as when he removed his oxford shirt, he stood for a moment, allowing his arms to drop to his side. He would twist at the abs first to one side and then the other in a partial relaxed stage pose alternating between the right and left. The effect was to make Gabriel’s abs crunch hard and twist, the bricks erupting up and losing the space between them, the obliques and intercostals exploding to either side as his inner lats framed the brick mason’s pile of ab muscles. The hint of his Adonis belt sliding into visibility and then descending again under his loose-fitting trousers. The effect on Clawson was immediate and unmistakable. He gasped again, but now it was so soft that it barely registered to Gabriel’s ears, though he was just a couple of steps ahead of the seated runt. That line of spittle had now emerged as a full fledged drop as he could no longer lick it away he was in such shock. It slowly descended down from the corner of his mouth, down his chin, and landed on his own ill-fitting tank. *** Five meters away, Braden leaned into John’s arms as he was exploring that forearm that rivaled his quads in size. As he watched, now seeing what Gabriel really looked like, he said quietly, “And Gabriel really has NEVER competed before? John, he looks like a proper physique pro a few weeks out, what 3 or 4. And he poses so well and he isn’t even properly posing. He is incredible…” Braden turned a moment, looked up from his muscle cocoon into John’s face looking down. “Don’t take this the wrong way. But I can see why there really would be discussion who has better shape between you. He is fucking amazing.” John smiled. “No offense taken. Especially because it is true. Objectively I may be “better” but I am an open bodybuilder and Gabriel is physique. We are two different beasts. But you don’t know how proud it makes me that people see what I have always seen. So, maybe you can help me convince him to do a show. Our friends here say he would get his pro card as fast as me. You know we met them earlier tonight and they made a bet with him about doing something at the expo tomorrow. If he will do what they bet him to do, then competing and winning will be child’s play.” “Who? What bet?” John was matter-of-fact. Sometimes he forgot that his and Gabriel’s friend base in bodybuilding was far from ordinary, especially for people who essentially don’t compete. “Cedric McMillan, Flex Lewis, and Brandon Hendrickson asked him--” Braden interrupted, shocked. “Whoa? You mean the physique champ? THE CHAMP. And Flex Lewis too? And he doesn’t believe…” “Maybe he is growing into that belief right before our eyes. It is part of what makes what you are seeing special. A lot of layers beyond just an exercise in domination. But the bet--” John began to tell Braden the particulars of the bet/challenge Gabriel was facing at the expo tomorrow. *** Meanwhile, as John and Braden were talking and watching, Predator/Gabriel took even more steps closer to Clawson, only stopping when he was to the point of being close enough to climb on top of him to do a lap dance. He ran a hand a bit cockily down his pecs and abs. “So, what do you think? As you can see - there are no visible wires or tape or any kind of sticker or anything attached to my skin. I’ll even flex for you. When I do that, if there was so much as a flesh colored bandage on me, flexing would make it pucker.” Clawson’s eyes were WIDE and dilated as he saw Predator/Gabriel’s chest seem to thicken and then deflate by an inch. Thicken and deflate. Thicken and deflate. Every time he squeezed his pecs together, they were no more than 18 inches from Clawson’s open mouth. At that range, his whole visual field was taken up by Gabriel’s pecs. He could see even the fine dash of perfectly complementary black hairs on the skin. At a distance you could not see them, but this close, such details screamed MAN in Clawson’s wavering mind. Predator/Gabriel went on as he saw the reaction in his prey, but his voice nearly clinically detached in its matter of fact coldness. As if he were transcribing medical notes, he said. “Good, it seems from that reaction that you are paying close attention. And while you are, can you see the shelf on my upper pecs? I work them hard, even did the water bottle balancing trick once. As a matter of fact, let’s see.” Predator/Gabriel looked around and as if his desire manifested it, he saw several clusters of half-liter plastic water bottles in clusters around the meeting tables. He trotted over, grabbed one, and brought it back. He resumed his former place extremely close to the Runt, while he gave the bottle to the nothing. “When I tell you, reach up and put it on my pecs. You’ll see where.” Predator/Gabriel then leaned back slightly, rotated his shoulders forward, and flexed… HARD. His pecs exploded in thickness, even thicker than they had been moments ago. “NOW,” Predator/Gabriel growled. The Runt robotically reached up with the bottle. He did indeed see the thickest part of the upper pec shelf, a natural approximately flat spot where the thickness pushed away from the collar bones. The Runt put the bottle on the spot and removed his hand… and the bottle easily stayed balanced. Predator/Gabriel smiled, “MEN can walk around doing this Runt. They used to make women walk around with glasses of wine balanced on their heads to show poise and grace. I wonder which you would be better at…” He laughed hard for just a second before he grabbed the bottle. He twisted off the top, took a large gulp, and sat the bottle aside. The Runt was shaking again. He was so close to that muscle he could feel the warmth of it. The radiating heat. He struggled not to cum. He could only imagine the perk he would be forced to give up. But, seeing that shaking, Predator/Gabriel came even closer. He leaned in as he used his index finger to trace some faint veins that had appeared from the pec shelf flexing, “Some vascularity, there and there. Means this is all muscle. You can tell that too by the striations. Look at that, in the valley there. Let me flex…” Gabriel flexed again, and this time bounced his pecs, fast and then slow, back and forth. A whimper of struggle came from the Runt. “There we go. I can tell you see. Hahaha.” Predator/Gabriel pulled back slightly to his previous “lap dance’ position but he went on. “But I am most proud of my lower pecs here. See the way they hang down like that, nice and thick, even when I am not flexing. How they make t-shirts and undershirts curve under them. You saw that before. I always admired thick pecs that make a man’s nipples point down toward the ground… like John’s. And I guess I have been working hard to build myself a pair just like that, and they are just KEEP ... *flex* … GETTING … *flex* … BIGGER.” It was at that moment of flexing that Predator/Gabriel stopped for a moment, pretending to consider something he had long ago decided to do. Now was the perfect time. So, he went on in that same matter of fact tone. “But you know, I bet you can’t fully appreciate my lower pecs sitting there like that. I know the reaction people have looking up at John shirtless… You know Braden saw him at a bodybuilding show early in the summer. He can tell you what it is like.” Gabriel took two steps back from the chair and then looked down, his fiery blue eyes almost driving his next statement straight into Clawson’s now sexed-up, mushed brain, “I think they would look a lot better if you were kneeling in front of me here, looking up at me, watching me flex from there. Don’t you?” Predator/Gabriel had barely gotten the words out when Clawson practically lept from the seat and fell onto his knees before Gabriel. From across the room both John and Braden laughed along with Gabriel. “Fucking hell, you little shit. You just couldn’t wait for that could you? You jumped in like we did as kids on Boxing Day. Well, take in the view Runt. TAKE IT ALL IN.” Gabriel began to flex and bounce his pecs, and looking up, seeing Gabriel’s face partially obscured by them, the Runt couldn’t help it. He trembled and moaned in raw sexual passion, while fighting with everything he had not to touch the vision of sheer Angelic beauty above him. For his part, Predator/Gabriel just looked down. “Have to say. You look much better and more natural in that position. I think you were meant to be there.” Predator/Gabriel looked for a moment over his shoulder. “What do you think Braden?” Braden smiled… viciously, victoriously. The more he watched Gabriel perform this version of sending someone through a human trash compactor, the more he felt the urge. He wanted to participate. He never thought he would at first, when he guessed what they were going to do, but it had not made manifest yet. But there was something about being around these two, especially John as he had as yet spent more personal time with him. Later on, when they were teaching Braden about their world, Gabriel privately told him he knew what it was. It was John’s gift, his natural ability to bring out the REAL MAN in other men. What Phil had talked to him about. What Cedric had talked about feeling as a bodybuilder and US Army soldier. What the Marines had built in Braden and his knowledge as a trained MP - John was bringing out the superiority in Braden. Building something unique and special with those raw materials inside the soul of the hot young Marine. But Predator/Gabriel got the sense in that moment - so was he. Braden felt confident enough in the presence of the couple to now speak his mind totally and honestly. “Truthfully, Gabriel. I always knew that was the most natural place for him. Glad you are helping him learn it is where he belongs.” “Then come here. Stand close and take a good look down at him where he belongs. It is where he has belonged for a long time in front of you.” John patted his charge on the quad, reinforcing Gabriel’s invitation. “You heard the man. Besides, I agree. You need to see who you were once so afraid of for what he really is.” Braden stood and John opened his quads, allowing the young Marine to walk the few meters it took to stand shoulder to shoulder next to Gabriel. Being a few inches taller, the scene was even more stark for the Marine. Standing together, looking down, they saw what John had seen in the eyes of Heath and so many others before them. There was nothing human in him in that moment, no spark of intelligence in those eyes. Just animal lust. Clawson for his part looked up at the two muscle men before him and he felt … home. “Go on, Runt. Tell Braden. Tell him what we both know. You already know what you need to confess without me even asking the question.” “I… I belong here… SIR.” Predator/Gabriel laughed, “Good Runt. Reward time.” But before the reward came, John laughed hard from his corner. “He doesn’t need one, Gabriel. Bet there is a damp spot visible in his pants now. Tiny, but it's there. I can smell it again. He lost his microload again with you two standing over him. He doesn’t even need to touch your hard muscle. He is where he belongs, and that dickless wonder in his crotch sputted its agreement right when he said it.” Braden glanced at the Runt’s crotch… and saw the slight but still obvious darkened spot. That sight, what just happened, Braden lost it. He broke down laughing so hard he was holding his sides, “Fucking Shit. John, you’re right again. The fuck has a wet spot on his zipper” Gabriel looked down in mock disgust, but he knew the outcome had been inevitable once he was on his knees. The Runt’s mental vice’s screws tightened. Clawson was another step closer to his final outcome - the outcome with any version of a medieval screw torture device. He would crack and break. “Goddamn, Runt. That’s twice now. TWICE. And you didn’t even touch the muscle. AGAIN. Is there anything about you that isn’t a cock-up - except that you don’t have a cock.” All the men laughed at Clawson to scorn. As Gabriel and Braden were standing over him, that feeling welled up within Clawson… desire. The part of him who wanted to scream his inferiority to the rooftops started to speak in his now bifurcated mind. You wanted this. You have always wanted this. You just resisted until you could find MEN who are MEN enough to put you here. To be under real men like this. It isn’t just empty words that you belong here under these Sirs. Under Braden. You deserve to be right here. That’s why you shot when he stood over you. You know it. Don’t lie to yourself. You have always known this is where you belong. You know it... Predator/Gabriel interrupted his thoughts. “Well, cock-up, looks like that means you lost a perk. Let’s take the easiest one first. Room upgrade.” Hearing this was the first time in the better part of fifteen minutes that the runt spoke coherently. Still, it was soft, humbled. Awed. Frightened. “Sir…” He immediately corrected himself, remembering the rules and that Braden was standing there too. “Sirs, I was going to offer you a substantial room upgrade by allowing the searc--” Predator/Gabriel began to chuckle as if he had heard the most moronic comment ever made by a human. “No, no, no, Runt. You don’t understand. Not just “an” upgrade. THE UPGRADE. You are going to upgrade John and I to the best available suite… and not just in the Bellagio but in the entirety of MGM Resorts in this city.” “But--” Predator/Gabriel’s voice snapped into a cold, ruthless command. “RUNT - don’t ever say anything like you were about to say again. You obey. That’s ALL. You are on your fucking knees, cum in your goddamed trousers. You do what I say, when I say it, how I say it, or you’ll be on your knees before some bull queer in prison. You know these two with me can put you there for all the sexual misconduct and sexual assaults you have done to male guests and employees. You KNOW it. So make your fucking choice, right now. Us or taking your chances as a jailhouse bitch.” Braden marveled as he listened. There was no DI he had ever met who could match Gabriel for sheer ability to make you want to piss out of fear. That cold, quiet, relentless voice speaking the truth sounded like its owner would grind you into paste if he wanted. And not just the Runt. Even him, even John, even the others like -- Were there others like John? He kept saying “our world.” He once said, “that you’ve ever seen.” Were there more to see? Our world… Another question to ask one day formed in his mind. At the same moment, Clawson’s head dropped. He had to obey. Both the pieces of him insisted on it. The part that was afraid of being found and the part that knew this was his place. He had to obey. Predator/Gabriel felt the shift in his aura- the little thing’s balls were now being stepped on as surely as if he had actually stood on them. Point made. Point accepted. Predator/Gabriel went on as if the incident had never happened. “Braden, what is the best room you can think of in the company?” “There are some crazy palaces of rooms to be sure. But the best for you two is tough...” Braden thought for a moment. and then his eyes lit up and a beautiful smile graced his lips. “The ARIA - Sky Villas - Number 18. Specifically Villa 18.” Predator/Gabriel looked down and saw Clawson’s eyes nearly explode from his head in terror. He knew from the reaction Braden’s suggestion was the right one. Turn the screws tighter little fuck. “Why that one in particular?” “The Sky Suites at the ARIA. One of the most luxurious places in all of Las Vegas. They were designed that way. But that particular one… You and John will not just have your own personal concierge but you have your own butler, bartender, and personal chef if you want. Private elevator to the suite so you never have to take the hallway or main one. And there is another private elevator directly to the kitchens from your own commercial quality kitchen inside the suite. Your own dining room. Fully stocked bars on two floors. Twelve foot high bedroom ceilings. And John -” Braden looked over and his eyes flashed pure pleasure. He was about to give the giant man a VERY special gift. “ John, the living area’s ceilings are three stories high. You can even jump with your arms above your head and not touch the ceiling. Grand staircase big enough for you to go upstairs. Views going North on Las Vegas Boulevard from the 57th through 59th floors. It is the perfect spot - for both of you. And only shy of 7,000$ per night currently….” “Is it available?” Predator/Gabriel asked. Braden went back to John and collected his iPad. Expertly, he moved through the menus of the reservation system and … “Yes. Yes, it is available for the entire remaining length of your stay. And as the supervisor who is ultimately responsible for all high value perks given to high spending patrons of the Bellagio… he can authorize a perk at another casino in the company. Their concierge can even move your bags for you from your current room here if you want.” Braden tapped a few more menus as he walked back to Gabriel and resumed standing over his nominal boss.. “All it takes is his code here...” As he handed the iPad to Gabriel, Braden thought as he looked down at the pissant minion at his feet. He relished seeing this runt put in the place where it hurt him the most. Being forced to serve clients he once thought he was better than was better than seeing him sexually humiliated. iPad in hand, Gabriel said, “Well, John, you want 35,000 dollars in a hotel room? I have not stayed in a room that expensive since I was a kid when my grandfather participated in the State Opening of Parliament with Black Rod....” John’s Predator just smiled back, relishing every moment of the fruition of so many months of planning and teaching. “Far be it from me to question my MAN right now. I am along for the ride… and I am up for being able to stretch inside and not touch the ceiling. Although I might jump and try to touch it, hahahaha.” Gabriel turned the iPad around, “Well Runt, put in those numbers…” Clawson was almost in tears as he entered in the codes for the room upgrade he had planned on originally, but then named the upgraded room as ARIA Sky Villa 18. There was a completion chime from the iPad, and Braden took the machine back from his one time boss. “It’s yours now,’ Braden said. “At that level, they’ll have you moved before you are even done here. As your personal concierge for the night, the keys will be waiting on me at our desk here to give to you.” “Talk about EXQUISITE SERVICE. I will have to make sure to leave you a glowing personal review.” Predator/Gabriel said with a smile. “Well, Braden, if you will excuse me for a bit, the runt and I have a search to finish… and I think you have your search of John you were doing. Far be it from me to stand in the way of a wanton criminal like Mr. Declann over there from being thoroughly checked out by a proper professional.” “Payback is such a bitch. Both of you.” John said smiling, rubbing in the comradery the three men had that Clawson would have ripped his teeth out to have… but never would. “Don’t tempt the Runt to act up…” Predator/Gabriel said, which made all the MEN laugh again. Predator/Gabriel looked down. “Well, time for a new card, don’t you think? Tell me when to stop.” His fingers began to dance over the remaining cards until the Runt moved. That was as close as he was going to give as a signal to stop. He grabbed the card his fingers had stopped on, as Braden went back into his fast-growing comfort of being with John in his muscle cocoon. John resumed guiding Braden’s searching hand, now over his right biceps. Once they were settled, Predator/Gabriel flipped the card for everyone to read, “Well, how about that. CALVES. I am rather proud of them, I must say. And, look at that. You are on your knees right where you need to be to see them and MAYBE, if you can control yourself which seems doubtful, touch them and search them. “Of course, that means my trousers have to come off for you to see them properly…” Gabriel stepped back a couple of paces and loosened his belt. “Oh Runt, since you know it is right and proper and you already said you belong on your knees down there in front of me -- in front of US -- why don’t you just stay on your knees the rest of the time of your search of me. You need to get accustomed to being on your knees…” Gabriel loosened the button to his trousers and was about to start his little “tease act” again when he thought about the story Flex Lewis had told him earlier in the night, the one about the effect Franco Columbu just dropping his pants right in front of a stranger had. Why not… he thought. So, Gabriel pulled down the zipper and let his pants fall right where he stood in less than a second. *** (To be continued)
  14. Dixon attached the image and signed off with: Hope to see you soon Mark. P.S. Bring Jacob. Dixon closed the computer and smiled as he carried a storage bin full of food back to the gym for himself, Chuck, Scott and Peter to devour. AND GROW STRONGER AND DENSER AND TURN INTO THROBBING MASSIVE MUSCLE GODS. AND SPEND HOURS TRANSFIXED BY THE FEEL AND TASTE OF EACH OTHER'S MONSTROUS AND HIDEOUSLY PULSING PERFECTION. Thank you so so much (winks).
  15. GodlyGrowth

    A voice from above...

    From the shimmering red and gold sky that hung above Agrabah, no-one, in their right mind, could have depicted what was happening that evening in the Royal Palace. Jafar, Agrabah's royal vizier, definitely had the upper hand after acquiring the Genie's lamp and using his wishes to turn into a yard-long magical snake. While Jafar was being attacked from all sides by Aladdin and his companions, and Jasmine slowly drowning in the hourglass, something was nagging him... He looked around, but Iago wasn't the one that was bothering him; it was something else entirely, something mysterious... Slowly Jafar snapped back into reality as Aladdin was trying to get his attention. "That annoying little brat," Jafar thought to himself, "honestly should incinerate that puny little waste of life here on the spot..." Then Jafar suddenly froze to the words "not the most powerful being in the universe". Did Aladdin just give him the ultimate inspiration for his final wish, "The genie will always be stronger, you freak!" yelled Aladdin. Eventhough Prince Ali was a massive con artist, he did have a point... There the voice subtly whispered again: "genie... chain... god..." Those three words continued to swarm through his head, the weirdest thing was that it almost sounded as his own voice... As if his future self was trying to tell him something, but what exactly... Jafar was abruptly interrupted by the street rat himself, in the corner of his eye he could see solely Jasmine's lips reaching above the magic sand, "What are you waiting for you spineless pussy? Don't you think you can handle begin like Genie?!" At that very instant the words of his guardian angel made sense, the pieces of the puzzle finally fell into place... Quickly Jafar turned his hypnotising cobra eyes towards Aladdin, who was trying to hurt him with his agile scimitar, Aladdin froze into place due to Jafar's power and gave the slightest wink towards his friends. "GENIE! I AM READY FOR MY FINAL WISH!" Jafar bellowed across the throne room. "Ya'know I'd rather you didn't, mister power hungry megalomaniac, isn't his eno..." Instantly the Genie's mouth zipped closed due to Jafar's power. "Mighty Genie of the lamp, I, Jafar of Agrabah, wish to become..." Aladdin grinned hopefully, " an IMMORTAL, OMNISCIENT, OMNIPOTENT GOD!!!" in the mere nanoseconds that followed Aladdin's face went blank, the hourglass disappeared, freeing princess Jasmine, and the whole throne room was filled with magical creatures in all shapes and sizes. There were a couple of different genies, some unicorns, several fairies and many more. With a blink of an eye the creatures imploded into a little dot, followed by a pulsating red hue that filled the room with anguish. The red pulsating orb made its way to Jafar, as it came closer it started to expand, almost like some sort of nuclear fusion... When the orb almost reached the vizier, Jafar shrunk back to his slender self and was immediately swallowed by the orb and the orb shrunk and disappeared. For a few seconds the sky turned bright blue, you could hear the birds chirp and al the damages Jafar had caused vanished; the squad thought they had won. Aladdin ran towards Jasmine but was launched across the room as the little pulsating hue returned. Subsequently the sky turned an inky black and Jafar's laughter echoed maniacally along the horizon. Out of the hue a fiery and scaly red genie-like figure appeared. The creature wore Jafar's face, but much more perfected in a way: a razor sharp jaw, an immaculate manly chin with a perfect goaty, piercing yellow eyes, almost like those of a demon, pointy ears, pouchy lips and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. On his, almost bald, head a tightly bound ponytail, held together by several gold rings. Within seconds the squad saw the entity grow: firstly the size of a little muscular dwarf, then a seriously buff human, followed by an 10 feet tall superhuman, then, as the ceiling simply vanished, a whopping 100 feet tall musclebound god. As Jafar started to grow, his muscles expanded with every pleasurable breath he took. Firstly Jafar's pecs exploded out of his chest, within seconds they covered the massive palace in a frightening and foreboding shadow. Underneath a titanium 12-pack slab of divine abs formed that pushed his pecs ups, making them bounce in the most sensual way possible. Above the pecs Jafar's neck muscles started to bulge around his neck, making his facial appearance even more superior. Next his obliques appeared like perfect hills between his pecs and abs. As he grew, his majestic moans echoed through all the far corners of the world. With immense power Jafar raised his arms, creating massive gust of wind that made several houses in Agrabah collapse, and immediately his shoulders and lats became humongous. Jafar hoisted into a double bicep pose and two veiny mountain-sized biceps were conjured up out of nowhere. He clenched his fists, making his triceps and forearms bulge with obscene power. A low growl surrounded the castle as Jafar opened his hands, revealing that his slender fingers had turned into thick muscular fingers topped with shiny black claws that could cut through titanium. While Jafar enjoyed every second of his new power and the whole of Agrabah was frozen in fear, the red hue started to tornado around the gods torso. A layer of thick musky hair appeared on his abs and chest and as Jafar pressed his pecs together, two golden nipple rings were added to his superiority. The musky smell of omnipotence, making the genitals of most of its inhabitants quiver, covered the lands when his pits started to fill with hair. The last adjustment became visible when a snakey tongue slithered out of his mouth. "THE POWER!!! THE ABSOLUTE POWER!!!" bellowed Jafar to the puny little humans beneath him. "You thought you were smart, didn't you you street rat, tricking me into becoming a shackled little genie!" Aladdin stammered... "Why become a genie, when one can become a force nature, AN ACTUAL GOD!!!" Shrieks were heard all across Agrabah as the sky filled with lightening and thunder, making the torso look even more perfect. Jafar, and the hue that still tornadoed around his lower parts, started to rise from the ground. A loud crackling sound overpowered the thunder and the ethereal hue started to split, a massive pair of clawed and hairy feet with golden toe rings arose from the darkness. This was followed by the creation of two hairy legs as thick as humongous oversized tree trunks, both covered in snaky pulsating veins. Jafar looked down, grinned, and spat on his almighty hands; he made his way down to his groin area and started to use the lightning to mold his stallion. The city of Agrabah was in awe of what they witnessed next. A 40 feet long curvy cock hung tightly between his muscular legs, topped with a beautiful and shiny mushroom head; he snapped his finger and a cock ring appeared. The god's legs pushed his shiny, slightly bushy, testicles forward, making yet another shadow cover the area. Two quick booms indicated the creation of a smooth and immensely muscular dumptruck with a shiny, rosy anus shimmering in between the cheeks. Majestically, yet forcefully, Jafar's being rushed down to earth, landing into a powerful superhero pose. The sheer impact of the landing caused a massive earthquake and out of the distant rumbling a threatening black throne, with veins of lava coursing through it, appeared from the depths of the earth. The magic carpet rushed out from underneath Aladdin and turned into a silky see-through cover for Jafar's almighty genitals. At that exact moment Jafar noticed something amusing and, for the street rat himself, extremely humiliating. With his inhuman vision Jafar noticed that Aladdin came at the sight of his superiority. "Good..." he mumbled, a surge of power made Aladdin rush towards Jafar's face, mockingly Jafar made him pass his immaculate pecs slowly, "Deep down I always knew you had a weak for dominance! Not a complete waste of life HAHAHAHA!" He put Aladdin on his nipple ring and together they took place on the throne. A screech from Iago interrupted his victory moment, a quick bicep pose, which almost launched Aladdin into outer space, created a surge of magic that fused Iago and Rajah in a big, muscular, and fiery griffin that took place on one of Jafar's legs. "All hail almighty lord Jafar, you're one and only god!" said Iago repeatedly. "Iago, my companion," said Jafar, "I will grant you the power to sniff out all pure evil doers in this universe and give you the freedom to destroy them however you see fit!" Iago took of and spread fear amongst the people, leaving Jafar with a slight grin on his beautiful face. When Iago was out of sight two things happened that made Jafar very happy: first he saw Jasmine crying because she lost her precious Rajah. "Honestly princess, you really are a spoiled little brat but I'll give you one of the most desirable thing their is..." Jafar's eyes lit up with fire and Jasmine's clothes turned into those of a stripper and she launched up towards his neck, where she was entrapped in an hourglass pendant. "I'll grant you immortality, so you can spend the rest of your existence enjoying the view down below... Isn't that generous my princess?!" The other thing that happened slightly aroused his godliness. He looked down and smiled from ear to ear, Aladdin had started licking his nipples. "Ohhhh daddy, almighty daddy..." moaned Aladdin, Jafar's nipples got hard and Aladdin squirted his cum all over them. Instantly Jafar got a humongous pulsating boner, creating a loud bang when his cock slapped against his abs. Simultaneously Aladdin started to grow, within seconds a fit Arabian giant, about two thirds of Jafar's size, with a juicy bubble butt and a good cock stood naked in front of our new master. A drop of precum fell on Aladdin's feet, which turned into a red hue that put his hair in a man bun and gave him a tight leather jockstrap and shackles. "There you have it, my perfect little sex buddy Aladdin!" A little cry from Jasmine was overpowered by the commanding voice of Jafar telling Aladdin to turn around. The dominance in Jafar's voice arouses Aladdin, giving him an boner. Without hesitation Jafar clawed one hand firmly into Aladdin's shoulder and put several fingers in his mouth, then he pounded Aladdin's beautiful ass, you could literally see his cockhead poke into Aladdin's abs. "RRRRRrrrrHHHHhhhaaaa...RRrrrHhaaa..." echoed through the area with every forceful pound Jafar gave, causing literal avalanches around the globe. Then Jafar finally came like he had never did before, waterfalls of sizzling cum fell down to earth, filling the area with the sweet smell of dominance. The cum gave Aladdin an immediate pump, which made Jafar smear the last of his cum over Aladdin's pulsing abs.
  16. Last week
  17. GymPredator

    growth To Protect and Serve - Chapter 10.3e (Posted 22 Oct 2021)

    Thank you. The entire section is done and is being proofread. If it doesn't go up tomorrow, then this weekend.
  18. Mdlftr

    m/m Deano, Again: A Muscle University Story (Deano Story 3)

    I laughed out loud! For Deano to express anything that openly would take years of therapy -- probably including electro shock therapy!! LOL SO much of Deano's life goes on in his head - it never sees the light of day or gets verbalized.
  19. Two

    m/m The Repository - (Complete Story, 10/15/21)

    I'd been seeing this thread for a long time on top of the subforum, but I must admit that its title didn't pique my interest. About halfway through Part Four, I decided to give it a look and boy, was I glad I did. So much to like in this story. - It might sound a bit ridiculous, but following Gerald's life reminded me of when I read David Copperfield for my English lessons, watching a young man grow up and mature, while a large cast of characters comes on and off the stage at different times. - The protagonist's power and ethos when it came to using it went a long way towards making him charming. Everyone was likeable, with flaws that gave them depth and incited some conflict without causing excessive drama. - The balance between the growth/sex and slice-of-life parts was excellent. The story in general seemed very well paced, just enough of a slow burn to excite without dragging. - The growth never got boring or repetitive. You found ways to make each sequence feel fresh, and Gerry got accustomed to his ever-growing bulk in a believable way through the years. - In general I got a, for lack of a better word, "wholesome" feeling from this story. Thank you for taking the time to write and share it and I wish you all the best in your future creative endeavours!
  20. superherointraining

    • superherointraining
    • Bearaga

    I wish I could be that size oneday

    1. Bearaga


      If your looking for supplements and products to help, just shoot me a DM and I'll get you started 💪

  21. Damsou

    muscle growth Jed, Dexter, and Cindy

    Great story. I hope to read more ...
  22. I'm not American, but the image of a whole platoon of already-buff soldiers falling into a trance and growing out of their uniforms while standing at attention sounds really hot.
  23. Sinner



  24. Uff!!! so fucking hot this story! can't wait to read more and see how huge Jason grows!
  25. Rip jock #1, let’s see how quickly he decimates jock #2
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