Jump to content

Leaderboard

Popular Content

Showing content with the highest reputation since 09/23/2021 in all areas

  1. “You did that on purpose.” “Did what.” “You intentionally bumped into those two guys and sent them flying to the floor.” “What? Why would I do that?” “Because you saw them messing with me over at the dumbbells rack. You wanted to get back at them for giving me grief.” He smiled. The grin did not make him less intimidating. He still looked like a freaking mass of muscle . . . but with a smile. Dirk was massive. There was just no other word to describe him. His traps were a lot bigger than my entire shoulders. His delts looked like bowling balls had grown under his skin. His pecs ballooned out like two mammoth blimps flying side by side. And the dude’s biceps looked like two whole giant beef shanks hanging in the butcher shop. His balding head matched all the humongous shiny bulges everywhere else on his body. And the trimmed reddish-brown full beard and mustache gave him a dangerous Viking look. But it was his massive muscles – freakishly swollen by intense lifting – that a person always noticed first . . . whether he was fully clothed or jut wearing shorts rolled up his giant thighs, like now. “Did you see how they bounced off me like they’d been hit by a Mack truck.” “They were hit by something much more powerful than a Mack truck, dude.” Dirk’s grin got bigger. It pleased him when I talked about his body, his size, or his muscles. If I continued to talk about him – more than just a passing comment – he’d start getting excited and the bulge at his crotch would grow massive, too. Dirk was a size queen when it came to his own body. Bigger was definitely better. He loved talking about his muscles . . . but he loved it even more when someone else talked about them. And don’t get me started about the indecent boners that would sprout up any time someone asked to feel his arms or his chest. The dude was a walking carnival act – screaming for attention. We’d been late for so many restaurant reservations because he’d have to be a muscle goodwill ambassador doling out flexes and offering groping sessions on the street. I started telling him our dinner time was forty-five minutes earlier than it really was, just to accommodate him making someone’s night by posing at a stoplight. Walking in town with him was like walking with the Hulk. Even though he wasn’t green, people stared as if he were. Who could blame them, though . . . like I said, the guy was freaking massive. “No one messes with you . . . ever. That’s just the way it is. They should be happy that I didn’t get really mad. I think their heads are still spinning from smacking into me, though, and that makes me happy. They sure skedaddled out of the gym quickly after being introduced to my non-moving mass.” Dirk was now looking at himself in the large mirror along the opposite wall of the locker room. I could tell he was getting himself a little juiced from staring at his own body. He tensed his rock-hard stomach and mounds of abs muscles burst through his skin. He then shook out his quads and flexed them afterwards, causing a convoluted roadmap of veins to instantly appear. It looked like highways traveling over mountains and through valleys. The orange-sized head of his dick started pushing against his black shorts and I instantly knew that big Dirk was horny. This typically happened after a workout, but the definitely one-sided altercation with the two bullies had made his pump even more orgasmic than usual. “I need to be thicker.” “What? Are you crazy, man?” “I want to be thicker . . . much thicker.” “Most double-wide trailers are thinner than you, Dirk!” It was clearly an exaggeration, but my comment made him smile, again. Dirk’s chest was about fifty-eight inches thick. He was the thickest man I knew. He had just sent two big grown man flying to their butts because of his dense body – but it wasn’t enough. Dirk knew of bodybuilders who had chests that measured over sixty inches. He wanted to be thicker than that. But he didn’t just want a thick chest. He wanted every part of his body to be intensely thick. He wanted to be a tank of a man – unstoppable and immovable. It’s what he talked about all the time. “Thicker is better. The thickest would be best.” I imagined his chest ballooning out even more. I envisioned arms that were so swollen they dangled at a forty-five degree angle – biceps too huge to let his limbs rest by his side. I thought about a neck as thick as an oak tree. I longed for a stomach with abs so enlarged they were like speedbumps made from asphalt. I wondered about legs so thick they could be columns holding up a balcony in a palace. I dreamed of Dirk so massive the ground shook when he walked. Speeding cars would be totaled if they hit him and he wouldn’t even have a scratch. I contemplated sharing these ideas with Dirk, but the intense activity already happening at his crotch told me it wasn’t a good idea. His long thick dong had flopped out of his shorts before, just because he got too excited. “Dude, if you become any thicker I don’t think you’ll be able to move. I have to help you with your shirts, as it is.” “I’m as flexible as shit, man, and you know it.” To prove his point, Dirk bent over and put his head between his wide-as-shit calves. His upper back exploded wide with mounds of muscles popping out everywhere. I was bummed that I couldn’t see his round, firm, bubble butt from where I stood. It was truly amazing that this hulk of a man was able to bend like that. He flexed his arms while he was upside down and I saw how massive his triceps had become. He swung his body back up with ease and grinned at me. His arms were still flexed and the peaks of the biceps competed with his bald head for being the highest thing around. “I just have trouble with my shirts because I like them tight as hell, hugging all my massive muscles.” “Truer words have never been spoken.” “Gut punches. Now.” “Come on, dude, can’t we give my poor fingers a break for a change?” “Nope. I pretend they’re bullets and I’m not feeling a thing.” It was a post workout routine. No matter what. I always complained, but we both knew I loved it as much as he did. Hitting his abs felt like hitting rounded bricks. They weren’t just hard – they were solid, like the way a building is solid. I had a feeling Dirk wouldn’t have felt an aluminum bat slamming into his stomach, but we hadn’t advanced to that level, yet. I stepped in front of him and sent both of my fists slamming into his stomach with a loud smack. I knew Dirk got off on the double gut punch. It was the loud whack sound of my knuckles hitting his tight, unyielding muscled abs that got him excited the most. It would take a few minutes for the stinging pain to leave my fingers and wrists, but we both loved watching his chiseled tummy repelling my hardest punches. I pulled my hands back and moved my fingers around like I was playing an ‘air’ piano – trying to flick out the pain. “I’ve got a concrete wall of a stomach, man,” Dirk said, looking down at the red marks left by my fists. “And it’s only going to get thicker and harder.” “Well, my punching days are almost over, then, big man,” I said in reply. “I’m not breaking fingers just to give you a little rush” Dirk barely heard anything I was saying. He was too busy looking at himself in the mirror and running his left hand up and down his rock had stomach. He smacked his palm against his abs and a loud wallop echoed throughout the locker room. I saw a red outline of his fingers left on his stomach and I knew the slap had been intense. It was perfectly clear that my punches weren’t felt, at all, and he needed his own powerful hands to make his abs respond in any way. There was a guy about seven lockers away who clearly got a little scared of the hulking muscleman beating his own abs, for he gathered his bag and clothes and went around the corner to find another place to change. “You’re scaring the other patrons,” I said, chuckling to myself. “Good,” responded Dirk, as he tensed his eye-popping, massive pecs. His mammoth chest was gorgeous. Two rounded concrete pillows of muscles. When he showered, water dripped off of his nipples hitting the floor below, since the nubs pointed straight down because of the hefty massiveness of his pecs. There wasn’t a shirt in the world that could hide those huge puppies. Dirk usually left three or four buttons undone – to show off his enormous man-tits, but mainly because he couldn’t have clasped them shut even if he wanted to. Dirk believed a man’s chest was a key indicator of his power. He thought pecs should make it instantly clear how strong a dude was. He always said if the person you’re talking to doesn’t move their gaze down to your chest within the first fifteen seconds, then you weren’t big enough. People talking to Dirk didn’t waste three seconds before their eyes traveled down to his massive mounds of muscle. Hell, some people actually never looked him in the face – their stare stayed glued to his pecs. I found myself having to adjust my crotch any time he decided to bounce his pecs for his own or someone else’s enjoyment. “Gonna put another inch on this chest in the coming month, dude.” It was a statement of fact. It was Dirk telling his body an order. It was the kind of self-inspiration that had turned the guy into the hulk that he was. Like a true alpha, he told his muscles what to do. The words ‘try,’ ‘hope,’ or ‘might’ were never used by Dirk. If he ever began to strain on a lift of some kind . . . like when he was curling a dumbbell . . . he’d look down at his biceps and bark out an order. He’d say something like ‘Come on you fucking puny arm – be a big man and lift.’ And every time, whatever body part he was ordering around would listen and respond immediately. He was a general and his muscles were the platoon he commanded. And his army of bulges never disobeyed an order. Lifting heavy weights definitely made Dirk big, but I believed it was more about how he intimidated his own muscles into growth. I’d seen him growl at his own biceps before and I swear the thing expanded a little simply out of fear. He did the same thing when he was coaching me through a set. He’d boss my much smaller muscles around like they were minions doing his bidding. I had definitely grown, so it clearly worked. Dirk was obviously now working himself into a little lust-filled moment – staring at his own body always really turned him on. “Jacked today, bro. Feeling it more than usual. Taking care of bullies without even raising an arm gets me so stoked. They felt like tiny insects bouncing off of me. Loved watching how my hard pecs didn’t give at all when they smashed into them. Fucking A, I’m loving how swole I feel.” I knew better than to interrupt his self-adoration. When Dirk got to talking about his own muscles, there was very little that could change his focus. He just needed a few minutes to get a ‘muscle high’ from staring at his own body. Who could blame him? I did, however, know I was supposed to stop him if he started to get indecent – with what he was saying or in regards to how big he let himself get below the belt. It was always important to stop him before there was any kind of wardrobe malfunction and he ended up sprouting major wood way beyond the waistband of his pants or out through the legs. Also, Dirk had a tendency to squirt more thick pre than most guys did when they had a full blown orgasm. He was just a walking cum machine – definitely due to the size of his muscles. I, of course, got off on listening to Dirk talk about his own body. It was one of the hottest things I had ever heard or seen. He simply lusted after his own hugeness more than anything else. And, for me, that was like the best foreplay, ever! I had to force myself to encourage him to stop when he was getting close to losing control. It was like when he flexed to intimidate some guy – he lost all ability to maintain his composure. He’d growl loudly, and throw his body into mind-blowing pose after pose – scaring dudes until they pissed themselves or emptied a big load into their undies. I, myself, had come close to losing control many times when he was Hulking out in front of someone – and I wasn’t even gay, just really into muscle. “I’m going to be the thickest freak to ever walk the planet, man. I’m going to be scarier than a charging elephant. I’m going to be like a bulldozer plowing through a flimsy, little wall. I’m going to be a tsunami of muscle blasting up against a coast. I’m going to be massive.” He tensed every possible muscle in his body one by one as he spoke. It was like watching a multi-ringed muscle circus with several acts performing at one time. My gaze had to dart around to try and catch the full show. However, I also quickly noticed the show at his crotch was growing bigger and bigger by the second. Dirk was loving his own words and his own posing even more than me. I knew the circus was going to turn very pornographic if I didn’t quickly figure out how to stop him. I knew the perfect way to change Dirk’s focus. “Dude, your traps are looking a little small, today. Don’t you think?” The tensing of muscles stopped. The discourse about his own body and what it felt like ceased immediately. The big man’s gaze zoomed instantly on his trapezius muscles – flexing only them. The things were humongous – much bigger and thicker than my entire shoulders – but desperate times called for desperate measures. I needed to stop him before he turned the locker room into a bathhouse – full of nudity and the smell of semen. Dirk’s neck, traps, and delts ballooned into something that looked like they had been morphed. He had traps for days and they were more powerful looking and bigger than any I had ever seen, but the guy couldn’t stand the thought of part of him looking small or weak. It was his greatest fear. It was his constant worry. I had succeeded in pulling him away from the intense explosion his self-worship was heading for. After he looked at his own gigantic traps for a few seconds, he turned his eyes on me and a knowing smile crept across his face. “Thanks, buddy. I was losing control, again, wasn’t I?” “Just a little, Dirk. I needed to figure out a way to bring you back to the moment. Your traps are looking more powerful than ever, dude. Not to worry.” “I just get so lost in my own muscle, dude. It’s like I go into another world when I watch myself flexing.” “Who can blame you? If I had a body like that, I’d be flexing it non-stop.” “You have a fine body, bud.” “Thanks, but it’s like comparing titanium to cheap plastic when you’re standing beside me, big guy.” “Oh fuck, I feel as tough as titanium . . . that’s for sure.” “Watch it, there, tiger. You’re going to go down that muscle rabbit hole, again. Stay focused on the here and now. Let’s not get thrown out of another gym for indecent behavior . . . although I think they’d be scared to try and throw someone as big as you out.” “I can’t help it man. I just get lost in picturing what I’m going to become. I mean, I know I’m big, now, but I’m going to keep growing . . . keep getting thicker, heavier, dense as fuck. I want to be able to walk through walls and not even notice. I want to be too heavy for normal furniture. I want to sound like boulders rubbing together when I flex. I just got to get thicker . . . much thicker.” “How many pounds have you added in the last three months, Dirk?” “I don’t know . . . I guess about twenty.” “And all of that was hard muscle, dude. Freaking hard muscle. Imagine what you’re going to look like after a year.” “Aw fuck man, I’m imagining it and it’s hot as hell. I’m just going to have to stop buying clothes because I’m going to grow out of them every two or three months. I’m a freaking muscle growing machine, dude . . . and I just can’t stop. Speaking of parts of me growing . . . when are you going to let me tap that fucking hot ass of yours, man.” “Dude, you know I’m not into guys.’ “Well, you certainly seem like you’re into me.” “That’s because of all the huge muscles, man. I’m definitely into muscle. Who wouldn’t be into a thick, massive body like yours?” We both looked down at his chest, arms, and abs – like we needed proof of his hugeness or something. We were both lost in intense muscle admiration for a few seconds. It was almost like we were seeing the huge bulges for the first time. He wasn’t even flexing, but every part of his body was bulging hard. Just standing there he looked jacked beyond belief. I could tell he was on the verge of getting lost in his gorgeous body again. I wondered if I needed to head him off before he went down that path. To my surprise, he brought himself back. It seemed he had something else on his mind. “I could pound you so good, man. These muscles make me a fucking pounding machine – guaranteed to satisfy. I could just take you and have my way with you, you know. How would you stop me. Picking you up and turning your body any which way I wanted to – that would be hot. You’d definitely feel all my thickness as I plugged you, dude.” “Sorry, man. I’m into muscle and not dick. I’m along for the ride for making you grow bigger because it’s going to be awesome seeing just how huge you get. I’ll be your coach and your biggest cheerleader, but I don’t want to be your boy toy. Besides, you go through boys like you go through toothpaste – you squeeze all the freaking juice you can out of them and then discard them like trash. I like my bedmates to be soft and round – not bulging out of this world and hard as concrete.” “I could show you something definitely harder than concrete, buddy. Once you go jacked you never go back. Forget the ladies, man, I can take you to muscle heaven.” The fire hydrant in his shorts was quickly moving to full mast. This was a typical conversation after one of his intense workouts. He always got super horny and talked about his lust for me. As hot as his body was and as hot as it sounded when he talked about how much he wanted me, I was just not into guys – even monstrous guys. I just adored his huge muscles and watching him grow. I was also a little scared of what his giant body, not to mention his giant tool, would do to me in bed. He probably weighed more than an SUV loaded down with concrete and I got the feeling his thrusting power would be like a wrecking ball coming through the side of a building. He was now staring at me like he was a giant lion and I was a little gazelle he’d cornered and there was no escape. The lust in his eyes was definitely flattering, but the way he balled up his fist and tensed his arms was a little nerve-wracking – like it was taking every ounce of his incredible strength to keep from pouncing on me. “Um . . . Dirk . . . it’s me . . . remember? The one you just recently promised to protect . . . to make sure no one messes with me.” “Oh sorry, dude, I was just lost in my thoughts about smashing that body of yours against the wall as I lifted you off the ground with my thick, massive, hard-as-hell cock. I’d love to dump my cream filling into that hot little body of yours. My big battering rod would thrust into you like a girder supporting an entire skyscraper. Feeling you bob up and down as I flexed my huge dong supporting all of your weight. Oh man, plowing you so hard and hearing you moaning for me to slam you harder, deeper – with my muscles flattening you as I bang with all the power I can. Fuck, I want you so much, buddy.” “Dirk, man! Snap out of it. There’s no way I’m letting you get that third leg of yours anywhere near my ass. Dude! Calm the fuck down. Go take a cold shower or something. You’re scaring me. Remember, you get this way post workout!” I saw reality seep back into his eyes. He kept his fists clenched and his muscles tensed, but I could tell he was coming down off of his testosterone high . . . his adrenaline rush . . . induced by lifting heavy weights. It reminded me of when the Hulk would change back into Bruce Banner, but Dirk didn’t get smaller when he calmed down – he stayed jacked beyond belief. Finally, bulges relaxed and he released his fingers – looking a little less scary than he had before. The fire hydrant stayed fully engorged, however, so I knew he wasn’t completely back to earth. He could still be sent back into orgasmic ecstasy by nothing more than a soft breeze or a casual compliment on how thick he was looking. “Damn, bud. Forgive me. I just need sex . . . all the time . . . but especially after a good workout. My best cardio is fucking pretty, young, super tight things. I love to flex while I’m plowing, so I can watch my muscles grow. You sure you don’t want to take a walk on the wild side with a fucking huge, thick gorilla, man?” “I’m sure, Dirk. I’m flattered that you fancy me . . . but I’m not interested in being flattened like a pancake by your massive body. I like being the dominant one in my relationships and your alpha-ness is off the charts. I wouldn’t stand a chance in any kind of competition against you. Your pecs, alone, have more muscle than my entire body. And you like to curl the amount of weight I’m benching. I think I’ll stick to smaller bodies of the female persuasion, if you don’t mind.” “Suit yourself, dude, but you have no idea what you’re missing out on. I could carry you around all day as you rode my big thick tool. Just thinking about it makes me feel thicker . . . heavier . . . like the room should shake when I walk. Aw, dude, I’m going to go crazy if I don’t plow something, soon.” “How about that new guy you have the hots for . . . you know the one you met the other night.” “Oh hell yeah . . . that fitness model. The one we listened to as he talked about how huge he was and acted all cocky with that group of admirers. Then, I walked up behind him and the looks on the faces of his entourage told the dude something freaky was standing behind him . . . that, and the fact that I blocked out so much light. That tight-as-hell tank didn’t hide a thing, did it? When he turned around, you could have pushed him over with a feather – that’s how astounded he was. He was frozen, like a statue . . . in total shock. Oh fuck, just thinking about how he thought he was so freaking huge until he got a gander at true massiveness. If he had been a puppy, he would have had his tail between his legs – all scared of this alpha. Speaking of tails, that guy has one of the hottest asses I’ve ever seen. Firm, protruding, gorgeous ass cheeks that were made for plowing. He’s exactly what the doctor ordered for my afternoon. I think it’s time that little fitness model found out what a true massive alpha is really like. That was a good idea, buddy. Let’s text him right now to see what he’s up to. I have a feeling he’ll cancel any plans the moment I invite him to drop by. Boy howdy, big Dirk is going to get some tight ass!” I knew, right away, that I had narrowly avoided being slammed between the mattress and Dirk’s big body, yet again. It was always touch and go for a few minutes after every workout. I never knew if I was going to be forced into something I really didn’t want to do – but I knew there’d be no way to stop Dirk. He was just too massive. The dude’s huge fingers were having trouble punching the text into his phone. He often had me do it for him. Mainly because he’d crushed a few expensive smart phones in frustration. This was a long text, which made me think Dirk was being a little subtle – for a change. Usually, when he was needing sex, he’d message a guy saying, “My cock needs to plow you. 8pm, my house” or “Your ass stuffed with my big rod. Now.” The big guy was always short and to the point and he was never turned down. I was beginning to think I was the only dude that had actually told him no. This text, however, was longer and he was kind of mumbling what he was typing. “Hey handsome. Thought you might like to see me in just my posers. Just finished a three hour workout. I could flex all my humongous bulges for you. You could grope for a little foreplay. I’ve also got enough bottles of wine to get us to the point where we don’t care what happens next. Available?” “You’re such a fucking romantic, Dirk.” “Hey, don’t tease me. I promised wine, didn’t I?” The phone made a noise. The fitness model was already responding – as if he had been sitting there waiting for Dirk’s text. The big man’s face lit up and his arms tensed a little as he read the response. I could tell the model was saying yes, because Dirk’s shorts bounced joyously at the crotch. He clearly wanted to share the response. “Available and my toothbrush is already packed. Send address details. I could come now.” “Well, it’s clear Dirk-man is getting some handsome ass, tonight. I’m happy for you big man.” “It doesn’t really matter if they’re good looking, bud, since their face will be plastered into the pillow the entire time. It does matter, however, if they are tight as fuck and able to take my intense pounding. This guy was built – I think he’ll be able to take me being a little rough.” “A little rough to you, man, is like a bulldozer plowing through and flattening a little wooden shack. Just don’t break him.” “Ha! I’ll try not to. You sure you don’t want to come over and join us. I could use you as back up for when he’s too tired for another round. Trust me, I could get you used to the gay life, dude. I could make you never look at another woman. Come on, let me pop your cherry.” His mega-hard, bulging pecs had pushed me against the row of lockers behind me. The even harder head of his raging hard-on was pressing into my lower stomach, like the barrel of some rocket launcher. He placed his hands on the lockers beside my head, so I was completely surrounded by vein-covered muscles – bulging with power. For a split second, I let the musky stench of him envelop me – along with the intense heat he was radiating. My mind drifted to what it must be like to be held by his humongous arms and squeezed by all his strength. I quickly shook my head and snapped out of my muscle trance. Lately, this had been happening a lot – me contemplating Dirk having his way with me. I could tell that Dirk sensed my temporary thoughts – like how a big animal can sense fear in its prey. I placed my hands on his chest and pushed. He didn’t budge, but he did chuckle at my feeble attempt. He leaned in closer, his chest smashing into my body even harder. He brought his mouth to the side of my head. “You’re waiting until I’m even thicker aren’t you, bud? You want me to be at my thickest when you finally give into me. You want it to feel like a mountain has been placed on top of you when we share a bed, don’t you? I’m going to be massive . . . heavy as shit . . . and strong as fuck. You saying ‘no’ to me makes me grow, man. I could have my way with every man in the world, dude, but it wouldn’t matter. All of this hugeness is because of you. Don’t worry, I can wait. Waiting just fuels me on to pack on more dense muscle. Colossal Dirk will one day show you what you’ve been missing. But it will only be when you’re ready. In the meantime, I’ll just keep getting thicker. And no matter how many hot, stacked fitness models I pound, dude . . . know that none of them makes my muscles bulge the way you do. None of them makes my massive cock as hard as you do. None of them makes me want to be thicker . . . the way that you do. See you tomorrow, bud.” It was like the back end of a bus, which was pinning me to a wall, finally pulled away - as he stepped back. He was somehow jacked even more than he had been just seconds ago. Clearly, chatting that way to me made him tense even bigger. His excitement permeated every inch of the room. It was infectious, too. I wanted him. I wanted to feel his heavy, strong body pressing into me. I wanted to feel his cock poking into me like a spear. I wanted to feel his breath on my neck as he bent his head down to talk into my ear. It was insane. No other guy interested me, at all. I was into women and had been all my life. But the size of Dirk, the density of Dirk, the cockiness of Dirk, the power of Dirk – that was different. He was getting thicker every day. He was growing. He was becoming a freaky massive muscle monster and I knew – one day – I would finally offer myself to him. It would be an act of complete adoration to this muscle god. I watched as he grabbed his gym back and waddled away – not even stopping to put on a shirt and not even caring that his huge fire hydrant of a cock was making his shorts pop out like a circus big tent. I finally took a deep breath and counted to ten – begging myself to not explode.
    53 points
  2. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 12 We slept in the next day and enjoyed the rest of our honeymoon at our normal, more reasonable sizes. We took an endless amount of photos, hoping the sheer number we took would make it look like we’d taken a normal number of photos over two weeks. It felt right and normal and light and airy. The night before we were going to be returning to our normal lives, I woke up when I heard thumps and voices in the living room. I raced in, but all I found was Jason, furiously masturbating while looking at something on a tablet. “On our honeymoon no less!” I shouted, pretending to be upset. “Let’s see what you’re whacking off to, mister.” I grabbed the remote and pushed the capture button, and the TV screen lit up with what Jason was looking at. It was a picture of me at 600 pounds and him at 150. Jason covered his face, embarrassed. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry for what? It’s not like you’re cheating on me or something. For one, solo masturbation isn’t cheating. For another, you were masturbating to a picture of me. You weren’t even masturbating to porn.” “This is porn,” Jason corrected, still hiding in embarrassment. “I guess it is,” I conceded. “I just don’t want you thinking I want or need you to be at that size. I love you at any and all sizes. This is just…” I joined him on the couch and fished out my cock, which was readily thickening. “This is just hot,” I said, completing his sentence. I began stroking my cock to the bulging mass of muscle on the screen. “It’s a fantasy,” I said. “But a fantasy we actually got to live once.” The me on the screen was massive. Jason looked like a normal man; a tad too skinny for his height, but normal. I was an obscene pile of muscle. My leg probably weighed as much as his whole body. I was a blimp, overblown with enough meat for three bodybuilders. And yet I was so hot. My face was so severe and thick with muscle that I looked like a different person, or at least an obscene caricature of myself. Obscene also described the 16 inches of cock jutting out from my crotch, standing proud above two giant testicles—even on that overblown body, the cock looked absurdly and erotically huge. The pecs were furry and massive, planets of power above cobbled abs of intense strength to keep that upper half aloft. My shoulders were so broad that I appeared to be as wide as I was tall. My biceps were so round and thick and swollen—absurdly big for a human. Somehow, it even looked like my arm was thicker than my waist. And I remembered how heavy it felt to be inside that body and how small Jason looked when I was. I came almost instantly. Jason had joined me, also masturbating to that picture of me. After cumming, Jason promptly fell asleep. I carried him to bed, made a quick phone call, and joined him. When I awoke the next morning, the morning we were destined to return to reality, Jason was looking at me. “You’re even beautiful when you sleep, Miles,” he said. “That can’t be all you were thinking,” I pointed out. “Well, no. Not really. I was thinking that it was a shame that we couldn’t buy any souvenirs from this place.” “We’ve got pictures,” I said. “A whole spate of some amazing pictures.” “But we can only show the best ones to Jonah, Shafe, and Marietta. I just wanted something tangible to mark this event. And some gifts for the important people. Especially H. K.” “Tell him we got married.” “But we didn’t. We’re never.” “True. But it will make his day to think we did. A secret, private, tropical elopement? He’s my editor. He’ll ask me to turn it into a novel.” “It’s already fiction,” Jason pointed out. “Well, if you really want souvenirs, I do have one. We can’t show this to H. K. either, but it’s definitely a tangible souvenir.” I flipped over the blanket and showed him my cock. “I called Alphonse last night after you passed out. He let me keep some more of his cock. Permanently. As a honeymoon gift. He almost sounded pleased to give it.” Jason looked at my cock’s increased size and girth, his hand tentatively reaching out, unsure if he should touch it. “How big is it?” “You get to play with 10.5 inches of cock whenever you want.” “You’re cool with being so big? You’re going to bulge in all your pants.” His hand made contact with my enlarged, yet still soft, cock. “Yes I am. But it will feel like a dirty little secret, not a giant obvious sign like it did at 12 inches.” He kissed me on the cheek. “I love my souvenir.” A few hours later, we had packed our luggage and were waiting on the beach when the plane landed. Tanner came running down the dock and waved to us. “I’m surprised to see the gentlemen clothed,” he joked. “And it would have been my pleasure to get the gentlemen’s luggage.” “We know,” I said. “This is part of the slow return to normal.” “In eight hours, we’ll be back in L.A.,” Jason echoed, almost in a sigh. We spent most of the flight home silently and happily in each other’s arms. When Tanner served dinner, he accidentally nudged the table, and Jason spilled his drink, the liquid all flowing in my direction. Picking up the glass as quickly as he could, Jason shouted, “Oh, Miles! Did I spill on you?” “Miles?” Tanner said. “Not a drop,” I said, answering Jason’s question. Tanner looked genuinely relieved. “I thought you were Miles Uhler. I mean, you look like the Miles Uhler I’ve seen online,” Tanner said. “But there’s no Miles Uhler on the passenger manifest, and I know better than to ask questions.” “Do you need to check our IDs?” I asked. “We’re not that sort of airline, gentlemen,” Tanner said, retreating to his part of the plane. As he pulled the curtain shut, he happily added, almost to himself, “Jason Prentiss isn’t cheating on his husband.” What did he say? I shot a confused look at Jason, and his eyes met mine, his face equally puzzled. “Tanner,” Jason said. “Could you come back out here, please?” “Of course,” Tanner said, sliding back out into view. “Do you recognize me? I mean, do you know who I am, not just recognize me from the last trip?” “Everyone in America knows who Jason Prentiss is.” “Did you hear the rumor that I was getting married?” “Yes, but that wasn’t how I heard it.” “What did you hear?” I asked. “The way I heard it, you got married. To Miles Uhler,” he pointed at me, “who I only vaguely recognized. When the name on the manifest was different, I assumed the you were having an affair, and you just had very specific taste in men. It made me a little sad, but I wouldn’t pass judgment.” “Could you repeat that?” Jason asked. “Repeat what?” Tanner responded. “The story, as you heard it.” “You married Miles Uhler at a secret tropical resort.” “People are saying that we’re married?” Jason seemed incredulous. “According to the talk shows, you pulled off the wedding in secret. The story broke a while ago. Weeks? Something like that. Apparently, you’d bought the rings years ago, but wanted to avoid a public fuss over the wedding.” “Margaret,” Jason said, turning around to me. “She put this out there while we were on vacation.” He turned back to Tanner. “Is it still getting a lot of tabloid attention—my wedding?” “Haven’t heard a thing in…about two weeks,” Tanner said. “Will that be all, gentlemen?” “Yes, thank you.” Jason came over and hugged me. “Everyone thinks we’re already married, and we didn’t have to have the wedding. The story’s already dead, and we didn’t have to endure the news cycle. Considering how obviously they failed to get the scoop on the wedding, and how much pressure Margaret will put on them, I think it goes back to the old system. Where my personal life is off the table. We can just go back to our normal lives.” “You don’t pay Margaret enough.” “I really don’t.” After a pause, I turned Jason’s head so he was looking at me. “We’re going to have to explain to our friends and family why they weren’t invited to the wedding. And they’ll want us to throw a reception. This may have just kicked the can down the road.” “Ah,” Jason said, “we can say that Shafe and Marietta inspired us to make the wedding itself super-tiny. And now that the media thinks we’re married, we can throw a small, low-key, small, no frills, small, intimate, small get-together for the people we care about without all the nonsense or rituals or performance of a wedding, or a million tabloids weighing in, or my agent trying to leverage it into a reality show. We won’t even tell our guests why we’re throwing a soiree, and they’ll just assume it’s the wedding reception.” “If you’re down for that, so am I.” “Excellent,” Jason said. After a few minutes of silence, Jason spoke, in practically a whisper, “Can I confess one of the stupid reasons I didn’t want to have a wedding?” “Sure.” “It’s not the main reason, but it was a surprisingly big one.” He breathed heavily. “I didn’t want to call you Gerald in front of people. It would feel like lying. Does it bother you that I call you Miles and not Gerald?” “Not even a little,” I said. “I’ve been Gerry, G. P., Vaughn, Muscles, Shakespeare, Gloria Bowman, Miles Uhler, and The Repository. As long as you love me and stay right here next to me, I don’t care what you call me.” “Good,” Jason said. “Because I think of you as Miles.” He sighed contentedly and added, “I’m actually looking forward to our life going back to normal.” “Normal sounds nice,” I assented. And it did. With all the media attention on my not-marriage, the spotlight had gotten too bright on me. But now, now my secret was safe, my man was staying with me, and while my life could never be normal, we could go back to our normal. We settled back into a pleasant silence, and I began thinking and planning, tending the seed of an idea that had been planted when Jason had swollen up to 375 pounds. As long as his show was on the air, Jason had three months off every summer. He can put on just north of 30 pounds in three months if he devotes himself to it and has a trainer like Curtis. He puts on the 30+ pounds, then adds it to his normal deposit in time to start shooting his TV show. In three years, if we play our cards right, and everything goes according to plan, Jason will have accumulated 100 additional pounds for his deposit. I can function, albeit slowly, at 500 pounds. In three years, then, when Jason comes home to me, I can give him back his standard deposit, and he’ll be 350 pounds. Bigger than me. These thoughts were rousing my 10.5-inch cock, but I would keep them to myself until I was sure he’d be up for my plan. Jason’s not keen on surprises, and this honeymoon had been full of them. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, stroking the length of my cock through my pants. “Oh, nothing,” I responded. Maybe life wouldn’t go entirely back to normal. END OF PART 5 END OF THE REPOSITORY
    45 points
  3. Chapter 2 – The Doctor For someone so freaky massive, Big John moved like a giant panther quickly and quietly to pull up his posers, stepped over, unlocked, and opened the door, and greeted Dr. Malik. The doctor entered the room but was completely blocked from my sight by the giant assistant. They spoke quietly for a few minutes before the doctor appeared and walked into my room. Dr. Malik was the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with middle eastern swarthiness and style. At 6’1’’ and around 210 pounds, his professional doctor’s coat accentuated his well-defined muscles and stature. A thick, jet-black hairstyle that was combed back away from his face which was framed with square rimmed glasses which accentuated the square jawed face. He was clean shaven but by this time of the evening his 5 o’clock shadow was now a manly scruff that heightened his masculine looks. He was surprisingly younger looking than I expected and one of the hottest doctors I’ve ever seen. “Good evening, Jason, I’m Dr. Amir Malik.” he spoke with just a hint of an accent. “It is nice to meet you and I hope that my assistant has been treating you well.” As he glanced at the pant less Big John still standing near the doorway. “Hi, Dr. Malik, nice to meet you as well. And yes, John is incredible to say the least.” “Glad to hear, I’ve been reviewing your case files with your medical team, and we all concur that you are an excellent candidate for my test program. We believe my treatments will provide immediate improvement in your current condition; however, I am looking for a long-term commitment to my test program of 3 to 5 years.” He then asked Big John to take my semen specimen back to his lab assistant for processing and return with the results. Dr. Malik and I then spoke over the next hour about his program. He discussed all the details and requirements plus the expected results based off his previous candidates. I asked if Big John was one of his subjects and he said “Yes, John was test subject number 3 but was unwilling to complete the program beyond year 2. One of the effects of the treatment as you could clearly see is an increased growth not only in the musculature but also in the genitals. John’s wife demanded he stop the treatment because his large penis was causing too much pain during their lovemaking. When we started, John’s penis was 9’’ long when full erect and now he’s almost 13” and he must ejaculate at least three times per day, or his testicles will become too swollen and sensitive for him to function.” Dr. Malik kept speaking but I was stuck on the vision of that muscle beast and his 13-inch cock shooting his load from those gigantic balls! Speak of the donkey-dicked devil. A quick tap on the door and Big John entered the room and handed a sheet of paper to Dr. Malik. Damn, just the sight of him and his huge muscles was breathtaking. And there it was again, this time even stronger, that scent! It filled the room instantly and was like a warm familiar memory of every sweaty locker room from my youth. Big John had obviously hustled back from the lab as his skin was shiny with sweat and I could clearly see the telltale darker circles from those massive man pits. I took another breath and again, the instant orgasm took hold. My hands grabbed the mattress as my hard cock throbbed and released rope after rope of cream. It was like I had been edging my dick for hours and finally shot but this was an out of nowhere experience of ecstasy, equal to or even greater than a long jerk off session. When I finally regained composure, Dr. Malik and Big John were both smiling as they looked at my body covered in cum. Big John said, “sorry, little man, I should have cleaned my sweaty pits before entering your room.” I laughed and said, “don’t apologize, I’ve had two amazing orgasms and have not felt this good in a very, very long time!” Dr. Malik then pulled out his tablet from his briefcase and asked, “Jason, are you ready to change your life and commit to my 3-year program?” Without a single second of hesitation, “Yes Sir, this is a lifelong dream come true and I can’t wait to see how my body responds and grows massive!” “Great, we can start the initial surgical procedure tomorrow morning with the first spinal injection. John will get you prepped and ready. Do you have any final questions?” as he handed me his tablet and indicated the spot for my signature. “No, Doctor, I’m ready.” as I quickly signed and handed the tablet back to him. Dr Malik then turned to Big John and his eyes traveled down to the enormous protruding bulge between his tree trunk thighs. “John, prepare the patient per our normal protocols and have you ejaculated at all today?” Big John responded in his deep voice, “no Sir and it is becoming unbearable!” Dr. Malik then turned to me and said, “Well, I think Jason will happily volunteer to help ease your predicament. He is looking very thirsty!” And with that, Dr. Malik said his good nights and exited the room. At least, I think that’s what happened, I was completely focused on the huge bulge in Big John’s crotch and the thought of sucking that gigantic dick had become my only mission in life. The hospital could have been on fire around me and my eyes would not have moved from that trapped man meat inside those scrubs. Sensing my desire or his overarching need for release, Big John skipped the sexy striptease and quickly peeled off his scrubs and posers. Almost instantly this beast of a man was completely naked and on top of me. It was almost too much for my senses to even register and compute as his monster cock was like a guided missile to my open mouth. The giant head stretched my mouth open, and the smell of his sweaty pubes engulfed my nostrils. I reached out with both hands to grab the giant horsecock that was threatening to rip my jaws apart. He had climbed onto my hospital bed, straddling my torso with his massive thighs. His softball sized balls slapping my abs and chest with each thrust in and out of my mouthhole. I could only accommodate the giant head and a couple of inches and the rest I stroked with both hands. John’s huge paw was wrapped around the base of his missile holding it down aiming it at the target hole. I felt all 300+ pounds of beef on top of me forcing me to completely submit to his pile driving thrusts. His meat was covered in my spit as I continued to gag from the constant raping of my throat. I thought I was going to pass out from the lack of oxygen when the deep grunts started, and the swelling of his cockhead signaled his impending release. He pulled his cock out of my mouth and I gasped for air to fill my lungs. His left hand forced my mouth open, and his right hand aimed the cannon at the back of my throat. What happened next was unbelievable as the cum shot out of his monstercock in a steady, unstopping river. It was like he was pissing cum into my mouth. I swallowed and swallowed but was unable to keep up with the volume being pushed out of those swollen balls. After what seemed like minutes, the river flow paused and then a second stream of cum came flying out just like before. This stud didn’t shoot in intervals of seconds but instead in minutes. Over and over, my gut was extended from swallowing so much of his seed and my face and hair were completely saturated with his thick juice. After about 10 minutes, he finally ceased the stream and was only leaking out a typical man’s cum load. He sat back on his haunches and slapped his still rock-hard cock on my chest. At this point, I couldn’t open my eyes but I’m sure I looked like one of those guys in a bukkake video who had 30 dudes cum on his face. I felt a cloth across my eyes and was finally able to open them. He was then scooping all his cum into my still forced open mouth and ordering me to swallow every drop. “Don’t waste any of my precious load, little man.” After I had swallowed it all, he began flexing his massive muscles in a most muscular pose. The veins like roadmaps over the freaky thick pecs and his delts and traps swelling larger with each flex. Big John then leaned forward, extending both of his massive arms up and then quickly bent down toward my face placing both of his sweaty, hairy muscle pits only inches from my face. The influx of his musky scent sent me into overdrive.
    43 points
  4. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 8 The next morning, I woke up to the most powerful morning wood I have ever had in my life. It wasn’t wood—it was a tree. A Ponderosa pine—a mighty redwood—was growing out of my crotch. It stretched high. Jason was already awake, staring at it, marveling that something so impossibly huge had been inside of him. After I’d taken care of my morning needs—pointing that thing at a toilet was an ongoing challenge in and of itself—Jason was kicking his feet idly while sitting on the edge of the bed. “I kind of wish there was a treadmill or something,” he said. “I’m just used to starting my morning off with a workout. And that way, I could enjoy this honeymoon food without so much guilt.” I sighed and opened our closet. “I didn’t want to show you this,” I said. “Because I was worried you’d spend our whole honeymoon here. But I had them provide this because I expected you’d want it.” At the back of the closet was another door. It opened into a small gym. It wasn’t very fully stocked, but it had a treadmill, a stationary bike, and a handful of free weights. He kissed me on the cheek and, without even getting dressed, jumped on the treadmill. “Thank you. I needed this.” I watched him running on the treadmill—his pecs bouncing, his ass and legs swelling and contracting with each step. His cock flapping around. His abs tightened and flexed as he ran. The whole thing was mesmerizing. I could feel my balls roil from the show he was unintentionally giving me. While he was jogging, the alarm on our phones went off. I closed the doors to the gym and just stayed in there with Jason, knowing he was nowhere near done with his jog. We heard the boat pull away before Jason finished. “She was barely here,” he said, a slight breathlessness to his voice. “This place puts a premium on privacy,” I explained. “She probably prepared our food elsewhere, cooked it quickly on our stove, plated it, and left. The people I booked this cabin with said that she would be here three times a day. The breakfast and dinner visits are supposed to be about 15 minutes each. The lunch visit is about 30 minutes. Longer if we’ve made a real mess of things.” Jason nodded and then finished his jog. When we went out to the bedroom, the bed was made with fresh sheets, and the bottle of lube we’d left on the floor had been placed back on the nightstand. “She may have done some light cleaning too,” I added. After breakfast, Jason looked at me with a worried face. “What are you worried about now?” I asked. “You know I love having sex with you. Especially with equipment that big. And you know I love the beach. But is that all we’re doing for two weeks?” “With all this testosterone flooding me,” I said, hefting one of my enlarged nuts, “I bet I could fuck you for two weeks.” Jason rolled his eyes, but I wasn’t entirely kidding. With a smile, I continued, “You didn’t look around well enough yesterday.” I led him back to the living area, and reached into a pocket on the side of the couch. From it, I pulled out a remote. I pointed the remote at the largest wall, and a panel slid back, revealing a large TV. “There’s a state of the art sound system wired into every room of the house, hooked up to a satellite radio for music, dancing, and karaoke.” I clicked the display on the TV over to the next screen. “There’s a movie library full of TV shows and movies—even porn if we want it.” I clicked over to the next screen. “There’s also a handful of video games, but that’s more for me than for you.” Then, from the same pocket on the couch, I pulled out two tablets. “These are preloaded with more books than we could read in two months, let alone two weeks. Everything from the classics of world literature to the worst pieces of utter trash ever published.” I put the tablets back. “And if you really want it, I can make a phone call and have a jet ski here in half an hour.” “You really thought of everything,” he said. “Most of this stuff comes standard with the cabin. The only thing I had them add was the gym. That room is kept empty to individualize the experience for their guests.” Jason came on over and hugged me tight. “Okay,” he said. “Now that I’ve had breakfast, I want to brush my teeth and shower off my gym sweat and get ready for our day.” I smiled deviously as he went to the bathroom. After a few minutes, I heard the words I was expecting. “Miles, where’s my shaving stuff?” I walked into the bathroom to find Jason with a towel around his waist, his body wet from his shower, digging through his toiletry bag. “Did you forget to pack it?” he asked, digging harder. “I forgot nothing,” I said, smiling. “It’s my honeymoon too.” He stopped digging to look at me. “I’ve seen you stubbly,” I said. “I’ve seen you after two days of no shaving. But I’ve never seen just how hairy Jason Prentiss can get. And I think he’d look dead sexy with a beard and some chest hair. Considering how much thicker my body hair’s likely to get this next two weeks, I figured let’s go all in.” “I won’t be on camera for two weeks,” Jason added, closing his toiletries bag and flashing me a look of pleased acquiescence. “Happy honeymoon to me,” I said. Jason put on a pair of tight swim trunks and his favorite teal t-shirt and then went to my bag to grab something for me. When he opened it, he asked, “Did you pack any clothes?” I responded, “As I said, it’s my honeymoon too.” “But seriously? No clothes?” I pulled out my second suitcase from under the bed. I opened it, and there were clothes. “Of course, I brought clothes. But I knew I’d have this anaconda,” I pointed to my massive cock, “So I only plan on wearing clothes for romantic stuff. Like candlelit dinners. Otherwise, I plan on getting in touch with my inner nudist.” “As long as your inner nudist isn’t a permanent visitor,” Jason said. “I swear, he lives on this island only.” The first few days, we spent almost all of our time outside swimming in the water or reading on the sand. Jason made sure we were sun-safe, and I made sure the housekeeper never saw our exposed cocks. And we had a lot of sex. A lot of sex. All the hormones surging from my ridiculously oversized balls had me horny as a teenager and constantly nipping at Jason’s shoulders. Sometimes literally. Jason, usually the sexual aggressor in our dynamic, eagerly kept up. Those first few days, I also learned a lot about lube. I learned that I liked warming lube, and kicked myself for never having tried it before. I was not a fan of flavored lube, especially mint. Mint was a bad idea to put on anyone’s dick. By the end of day four, Jason could take all of my cock so fully that I could piledrive him, and he’d beg for more. He even managed to just get the head into his mouth, but it involved nearly dislocating his jaw and made his breathing an issue—both medically worrisome. So, we decided no deepthroating while I was at this exorbitant size. But there were lots of other ways to have sex. On top of all that, every morning, I got to see Jason’s body hair come in a little bit more. By Day 3, he had passed sexy stubble and crossed over into starter-beard territory. It was thick and bristly—the same jet black as his head. His chest hair was taking a little longer to come in, but it was growing more noticeable every day. And when he ran that fuzz over my cock—or any part of my body, really—my nerve endings danced, and if I wasn’t already erect, my cock would rise up and salute. I, likewise, was growing more hirsute by the day. As Jason’s beard came in, mine thickened and grew denser, even darkening into a richer brown, and the hair on my chest was spreading outwards as the patch on my abs climbed north and south. I was turning into a proper hairy fuck. Sometimes, I would catch him staring at me on the beach while we read. Sometimes, I would stare at him while we read. Day 5 was slightly overcast, so we decided to spend it inside watching sappy romance movies. After lunch, Jason showcased his golden pipes with a karaoke concert, even convincing me to join him on a duet or two. I don’t know if it was the lack of an audience or the surge of new hormones, but I hit some low notes I didn’t know I could reach. I wasn’t a particularly good singer, but what I lacked in skill I made up for in enthusiasm. Jason’s voice was dreamy as always. By Day 6, Jason’s chest hair had finally come in, and I spent a good two hours just running my hands through it as I plowed him with my elephantine cock. The whole time, Jason’s hands were caught in the impenetrable forest of my own chest hair, which was beginning to curl as it lengthened. That night, we decided on a romantic dinner, so I got dressed for the first time in a week. I wore Jason’s favorite suit (well, my favorite suit when I wasn’t taking Jason’s standard deposit). Of course, with the exception of the tailor-made tux, I hadn’t worn a suit since Flynn’s wedding gift, so my favorite suit wasn’t designed for a man who was perpetually 330, and the pants did nothing to hide the cock underneath. I actually had trouble both buttoning and belting the pants shut, and there was a soccer-ball-sized bulge sticking out front. I had to leave the top two buttons unbuttoned, so my chest hair more than swirled through. But, by the end, I was dressed for the evening. Jason, who must have realized I wouldn’t fit in my clothes, wore a star white dress shirt with none of the buttons done so I could see his chest hair, too, and get a peek at his gorgeous abs. On Day 7, I had a new surprise planned for Jason. Right after lunch, I picked up my cell phone and made a call. “Who are you calling?” Jason asked. “I don’t think I’d like jet skiing.” “This, I know you’ll like.” When I got off the phone, I could feel it hit me like a truck. My entire body began swelling with muscle, thickening beyond huge. My shoulders widened so broadly and so round, pushed so far away. I could see them easily even when I was looking forward, and the different heads of my delts were striated like rock layers as my shoulders blew up even further. My lats and back swelled wide, pushing my arms even further away from my body and increasing my impossible width beyond magnitude. My biceps bulged up too, pushing into my body, fighting for space as they thickened, and thickened, and bulged, and bulged, and burgeoned and burgeoned with so much muscle—swollen and powerful and thick with sinew and brawn. The muscle fibers and veins forced to the surface. My triceps bulged out in the opposite direction—the fibers etched in to my triceps, adding even more width to my body as they pushed out further than my biceps. My traps rose up to kiss my ears, and my neck thickened mightily. My head was encased with muscle, and it too thickened with beef and brawn, drawing out hollows in my cheek and strengthening my jaw. My legs ballooned out so fast and so full that I had to spread them three times as my quads passed impossibly huge twice over. Cables of power lined my thighs. They pressed so tightly into each other that my gigantic cock and balls were pushed out front and center, making them look even larger. My calves hardened and developed until they were thick as hams—diamond hard and surreally thick. My ass went from a mighty massive ass to two gargantuan globes of power. It was round and firm and jutted back so far that you could easily rest a whole set of books on them. My abs stayed a 6-pack, but they etched and quilted further, the lines separating them growing so deep that each ab looked like a plateau in a range of mesas. My waist thickened out of biological necessity, but it was still impossibly small. And yet, my obliques and Adonis belt were so defined that it looked like my abs could repel bullets. And my chest—my chest burst outward so thickly that it obscured the top row of my abs, but it swelled mightily and large, pushing up into my chin and spreading my arms and shoulders out even further. Steel cables of power ribboned across my chest, showing that these massive swollen mounds were capable of strength and might beyond human comprehension. My body hair, spurred on by my giant testicles, was more than enough to cover my chest and abs fully, a thicket of brown fur to cover a fantastically huge body. When my muscles finished swelling into mind-boggling, beyond-Herculean, ultra-titanic proportions, I turned over to look at Jason. There was a wet spot in the sand from where he had ejaculated, and his jaw hung open. “Miles, this is…” he said. “You are… Muscles that…” I had stunned him out of all of his predicates. “It’s your honeymoon too,” I said. My voice boomed out of me. There was so much room to resonate in my chest that even talking at a normal volume was louder than a foghorn and deeper than my usual baritone. I stood there, heaving my muscles up and down as I breathed, all of the fibers flexing to stabilize my physique as I just stood there. “How big…? How… much…? How… what…?” Jason was still too entranced staring at my massiveness to form a complete question. “How much did I have deposited? 175. 25 pounds from 7 different people.” I pointed at my incredibly small waist. I had comic book proportions—giant chest, giant arms, insignificant wasp waist. “I made sure to only borrow from people with taut cores,” I clarified. “I personally didn’t want a turtle shell.” “So big…” Jason said, still vainly trying to drink all of me in. “Are you okay, Jason?” “So much… 175 pounds is …” Jason realized, still unable to articulate a full thought. “175 pounds… You’d be…” Jason trailed off again. His cock twitched, indicating he did his arithmetic correctly. I flexed my arm, blowing it up into a mound of muscle more comparable to a bodybuilder’s pec than a man’s arm, and even then, it’d be a huge bodybuilder’s pec. I had trouble flexing to get it to its full height, but I got it there. “I’m 500 pounds. Just a smidge over.” Jason was wavering, his knees unsteady. “If you faint, I don’t think I can get there in time to catch you,” I said. I waddled over to him, needing to take exaggeratedly wide steps, throwing my leg all the way around the other, causing my cock to sway impossibly in front. Jason shook his head, fruitlessly trying to gather his thoughts back into coherence. “I had thought about blowing myself up into these proportions on day one, but plans like these have a natural rhythm. They need a steady build-up. Also, I feared it would render me completely immobile. And while that might be fun for one night, I wouldn’t want to spend two weeks as a beached whale. Thankfully, I can still get around. Mostly.” I demonstrated again how slowly I had to move, but when I reached him, my pecs pressed fully into him while I was still over a foot away. My body was a walking paradox. I felt heavier than I ever had—I could feel gravity trying to pull me down to Earth’s core, and I left deep footprints in the sand. And yet, at the same time, I felt a power and virility run though me making me think I could tear ocean liners in half bare-handed. And everywhere I looked was muscle. If I looked down, my chin crashed fully into my chest, and I couldn’t see past my pecs. I couldn’t fully turn my head to the left or right, but if I did, my shoulders obscured my view. I was completely ensconced by my own muscles. “You’re 250 magnificent pounds,” I taunted, “and I’m twice as big as you.” Instinctively, Jason flexed his bicep, swelling it huge by any metric, and I flexed mine, putting his to shame. Jason stared wordlessly at my brawn. I’d pushed him so far he couldn’t form half a sentence anymore. So, I picked him up (with one hand) and curled him a few times effortlessly, just to show him how giant I was. Then, I threw him over my shoulder like a rag doll and slowly made my way back to the bedroom. The wall to the living room had been slid fully into the wall, so I could just walk into that. The door to the bedroom, though, was a much bigger challenge. I tossed Jason through it, and he flew the ten feet to our bed easily. I essentially caber-tossed him across the room effortlessly. Jason landed with an inarticulate moan. I could tell from his voice the thought turned him on powerfully. Then, I had to get through the door. Head on was impossible as I was wider than the door by half. Sideways was impossible, as I was wider than the door that way too. But, if I twisted myself like a corkscrew as I leaned to the side, I could just—just—force myself through, but I was putting a lot of pressure on the doorjamb. I went over to the sliding wall in this room and slid it open as well. “I’m just using the walls from now on.” Once I was at the bed, Jason reflexively tried to move into our favorite position when I topped (him on his back with his legs over my shoulders), but when he tried, my shoulders were just to massive and boulder-like and my pecs were just too large of obstacles for him. Instead, I picked him up, and then lowered him onto my cock, like a masturbatory aid, not the love of my life. Pumping him up and down. Jason spent the whole time animalistically licking, hugging, and caressing my pecs, blown away by just how enormous they were. He even tried reaching between them, but even when they were unflexed, he couldn’t force his way in. When I came, I bellowed so loudly that it sounded like a cannon had gone off. Jason, by this point, had orgasmed four or five times. After my orgasm, I held Jason up, fully impaled on my cock, basking in the post-coital bliss. As we stood there, I could see he was happy to have a break. “I can’t do that every day,” Jason said, huffing and puffing. “You’re back with us?” I asked, happy he had formed a full sentence. Jason nodded, still panting a little jerkily. “I think I’m back.” “I was too much for you there for a little bit.” Jason nodded again. “In the best way possible.” “Let me know when you’re ready to go again,” I said. “I’m only momentarily sated.” Jason looked both aroused and aghast. “The human body has its limits.” “Does it?” I asked. I walked around for a bit with him on my cock. It was large enough that even as it softened, there was enough in him to plug him into place. His 250 pounds on my body didn’t really feel like much of a burden. I walked all the way to the water with him on my cock, and he just leaned against me, trying to cradle my steely, mind-shatteringly hard musculature. When we got to the water, I took him off my cock. We stood there in the surf, just comparing our bodies. Jason was as big as a professional bodybuilder at 250 pounds, with huge pecs, taut abs, giant biceps, and a fuckable ass. And I made him look like half a man. My arm was as thick as his thighs. “Happy honeymoon to me,” Jason crowed.
    42 points
  5. Chapter 1 – The Assistant I slowly replied, “come in,” to the loud knocking on my hospital room door. How am I ever supposed to recover when these people never let you get any rest? The door swung open, and a massive beast of a man entered my room completely filling the door frame. He was about 6’3 and well over 300 pounds of massive muscle that his scrubs strained to cover. He closed the door quickly (wait, did he lock the door too?) and turned towards me and started speaking from the entry area. His voice was one of those low bass, deep masculine sounds that hit that spot in my ear that goes from my brain to my dick in a microsecond. My brain was too focused on processing the visuals and couldn’t compute the audio. He was HUGE and handsome with a light bronze-colored skin tone, bald head, high cheekbones, full lips, a thick black beard, and deep brown eyes. His bull neck was anchored by high traps set like sloping mountain ranges that peaked up and dropped to each side of his incredibly broad shoulders. Wow, I have never seen shoulders that wide before in real life! The armholes in his scrubs had been slit to make room for the guns that shot out on each side, their thickness had to be in the 22+ inch range. And each bicep had a rope-thick vein that surrounded the gigantic muscle like it was fighting to constrain the mass but was losing the battle. As he spoke his hands moved to emphasize his words which caused his tremendous pecs to flex and pop under the tight confines of his scrubs. His pecs were so thick that the upper shelf could hold a 2-liter bottle of water upright without even flexing hard. He started walking into my room and stopped at the edge of the foot of my bed blocking the TV’s nightly baseball game. His quads were so huge that he had that bodybuilder waddle from having to rotate his hips to accommodate the mass movement from one leg to the other. But there was an even larger than normal obstacle in the dead center of his movement, a bulge that obscenely pushed outward and down his left leg, rotating with the movement and bouncing in its containment. Was that real? Did my eyes play tricks on me? The lower half of his freaky body was now below my view, blocked by the edge of my bed so I could no longer see that tantalizing bulge of man meat. The deep voice sound was no longer resonating in my ears, and I realized he was standing there waiting for me to respond to whatever he had just said. He had stopped speaking and was looking at me like I’m an idiot for not responding. “I’m sorry, Sir, but the meds they have me on, well, they make me very groggy. It takes me a few minutes to become fully aware and functional. Do you mind repeating all that?” “I understand” his voice once again hitting that sweet connection spot deep in my core. “My name is John and I work for Dr. Malik. Did you comprehend that statement?” he said with just a hint of irritation. “Yes, Sir, nice to meet you John, I’m Jason.” “Dr. Malik asked that I stop by in advance to do a pre-assessment on your condition to see if you may be a qualified candidate for his incredible program before he visits you later this evening,” John said as his right hand lifted my medical chart and began flipping through the pages. Every action of his huge muscles caused me to lose focus again and become entranced by the visual movement of his actions. Focus, Jason, focus! This man is here to do his job not to be your ultimate muscle worship fantasy! You’re a 50-year-old grown man, stop acting like a horned-up teenager! “Patient is a white male, 50 years of age, 5 foot 10 inches tall, 220 pounds, car wreck accident”, Big John recited into his mobile phone / recording device. “It says that you had some spinal damage with partial paralysis in both legs. But it appears you’re slowly gaining feeling in both legs, is that correct?” Oh My Thor! What is that aroma of pure sex, musk, and testosterone coming from this man? I took another breath, and the aromatic sensation went straight to my throbbing cock. Wait, what! I looked down and for the first time in months I had an erection tenting the sheet between my legs. That had not happened since the accident. I quickly covered it with my hands and tried to hide my hard dick from John’s eyes. “Uh, yea, um yes Sir, I’m slowly getting some feeling and movement in both feet, but I am not able to walk or move my legs on my own.” “Well, it looks like your little penis is working,” John said with a grin as he eyed me trying to cover my raging hard-on under the sheet. Little penis, what the hell, I don’t have a porn star dick but I’m a little above average at 7 inches. His cockiness and dominance were pushing all my buttons though! Nothing sexier than a true Alpha male! “Sorry, I’m embarrassed, Sir, and honestly this is the first erection I’ve had in a very long time. Not sure why it chose now to make an appearance?” Even though I clearly knew exactly why I had a steel pole throbbing between my legs, I didn’t want Big John to know it was all because of him, but part of me knew he realized his power. He knew. He was now standing to the side of my bed reviewing my chart. My eyes traveled down from those impossibly wide shoulders down the deep valley between his massive pecs and quickly to the monster meat strangely bulging from his groin and down his immense left quad. “Clearly, you’re excited by big muscles, is that correct little man?” and with that my eyes traveled quickly from that gigantic sleeping cock to the rising right arm that was curling upward into the classic muscle pose of a single bicep flex. John’s wrist tightened towards his shoulder and the bicep bunched into a circular ball of concrete before exploding upwards with the two peaks fighting for height. The triceps hung like slabs of hard beef under the elbow stretching the tight armband of the scrubs to the breaking point. “Oh, fuck yes! Wow you are so huge!” I grunted in amazement. Big John quickly dropped my chart on my bedside table and threw up his left gun to a matching double bicep pose that literally made me gasp for breath. His lats flared out so wide and thick I just knew his scrub top was going to rip at the seams. He rotated both wrists back and forth like he was priming the pump and then slammed hard into the flex, causing both peaks to rise again on both biceps! He held that flex hard and long, I could see sweat beads gathering on his skin and his deep muscle pits were already soaking the thin lining of the scrubs. He repeated this pose again and again, his arms becoming more pumped with each hard flex. Skin glistening from his sweat. I laid there completely immobilized and transfixed by the power and monstrous size of this beast of a muscle man. I took a deep breath, and again, the scent of his testosterone-fueled aromatic pits filled my nostrils, sending me into a sudden orgasmic state. My body convulsed as my orgasm hit me, I wasn’t even touching my throbbing cock, yet the intoxicating smell of this muscle god was forcing my seed out of my flared cock head and soaking the cover sheet with load after load. Once I regained myself, I looked down at the sticky wet mess and said, “Damn, how did you do that? Wow, I came from just looking at you flex and smelling your muscle pits!” “Yeah, gay guys love my sweaty scent, sends them into orbit, and makes them nut so fast. Glad you liked it, little man. Now, I need to scoop up that semen for a sample for Dr. Malik.” he said, as he pulled back the cover sheet and filled the large sample cup. “Definitely got more than I needed here, let me get you a washcloth to clean up, Big Shooter.” I looked down and was amazed at the volume I had shot. I’ve never been a big load shooter, but this was impressive by any standard! After the cleanup, Big John and I chatted a little bit more about my current condition, my muscle fetish and lifelong desire to grow massive, his bodybuilding history, and his wife and kids. He told me he had done some flexing and muscle worship for some gay men in the past when he needed extra money but that he was not sexually attracted to men. However, he said with that overconfident grin, the gays do pay extra big bucks to service this foot-long dick! OMG, I was rock hard again. “Can I see it? I’m obsessed with huge dicks almost as much as I am with huge muscles!” He reached to untie his scrub bottoms and said, “I have to have custom underwear made because it is so big, even soft, and I’ve got these balls the size of oranges.” With one quick motion, he shoved the scrubs down over his huge glutes and quads to the floor. Big John stood there in his custom-sized poser-style underwear with the bulge now bouncing free between his legs. He then turned around facing the other way and started to peel down his underwear over his muscular, basketball-size glutes. I would have given anything to be able to shove my face in that huge, hard ass! The thick hamstrings and quads flexed out as he bent over completely, slowly pulling the posers down seductively drawing my eyes with them. Over the diamond-shaped calves, and then stepping out, pushing the poser out of each of his gigantic feet. Jesus, everything about this man was just freaky huge! Just as his posers hit the floor there was a loud knock at my hospital room door. “It’s Dr. Malik, may I come in?”
    41 points
  6. If this type of story is your cup of tea, please consider subscribing to my GrowManGrow Patreon page for more like it: https://www.patreon.com/growmangrow 10 inches God, I hate my arms. Let me explain. I inherited a good height from my dad (I’m 6’2”), but none of his bulk. Instead, I got a fast metabolism and a super-skinny frame from my mom, and as a result only weigh about 130 pounds soaking wet. Most of this thinness can be covered up with the right clothes, but not at work. I have a job as an Assistant Manager at a fast-food burger restaurant, Big & Beefy, and we have to wear short-sleeve polo shirts as a part of the uniform. My long skinny arms stick right out of those sleeves for the whole world to see every day. Even when wearing a size small shirt, my arms comes nowhere near to filling up those sleeves. And worse than being skinny, my arms are weak. Really weak. I can barely turn over the fry baskets when they’re full…it’s a real struggle with these twigs attached to my shoulders. I watch some of the female employees do it with ease and wonder how much stronger than me they must be. So yeah, like I said. I hate my arms. 12 inches OK, so 6 months ago a gym opened on the ground floor of my apartment building. It’s a new chain so they were offering a discount, so I signed up. I had tried working out a few years back, but I didn’t make any gains and gave up. I’m not sure what’s different this time, but I have made a little progress. Maybe my metabolism is finally slowing down now that I’m 26? Who knows, but I’ll take it. I’m up to 145 pounds and my arms have grown from 10 inches around to 12 inches. They don’t have any real shape yet, but at least there not so terribly small anymore. And I lifted a very full fry basket the other day and didn’t even have to grunt, so I know I’m getting stronger, too. 14 inches I feel SOOOOO much better about myself since I started working out 9 months ago. I’m up to 160 pounds and have 14-inch arms, and my overall appearance has improved. One of my co-workers said I no longer appeared sickly, which is the only positive comment I’ve had about my looks in years. My size small shirts have been getting really tight lately, so I’m just about ready to move up to mediums. I think two things have really helped: first, I’m eating a lot more than I used to. I’m not sure how many calories I’m ingesting, but it must be somewhere around 6,000 per day. We get all the free burgers we want at work, and I’ve been stuffing myself with them all day long. You gotta eat big to get big, right? I’m not sure about my training, however. I’ve been following this routine I got off the internet, but I think I may hire myself a trainer from the gym to see if I can take things up another notch. 16 inches Big news – and lots of it! Thanks to the advice from my trainer, Miguel, I’ve managed to add another 2 inches to my arms in the last few months. He’s really helped me blow up my triceps and add some decent mass – not just on my arms, but all over. I’m at 190 pounds now which may feel about average for a 6’2” guy, but remember I started way back at 130. So to me, I feel like the Hulk! Also, and maybe I’m burying the lede here, but I had SEX! Yes, for the first time in what feels like forever, I was able to satisfy my carnal desires with another person. Her name is Abigail, and she’s a customer at the burger restaurant. She’d been getting very touchy and flirty, and last week when I was working late, she showed up as I was leaving Big & Beefy and asked I could walk her home since she felt so safe with a “big, strong guy.” Abigail had plenty to say about my body as we walked – she liked my firm pecs, which were about to split through my size medium shirt, and she liked how thick my quads looked in my tight chinos, but she absolutely LOVED my arms. She kept running her fingers up and down the veins and saying how sexy they were, and that really got me hot and bothered. I was already hard by the time we got to her door, and a few minutes later we were fucking like bunnies. This is the kind of thing that is only gonna make me work harder in the gym. 18 inches Miguel cannot believe how big I’ve gotten in such a short time. I’m up to 220 pounds of solid muscle, and my arms now stretch the tape to 18 fuckin’ inches! It’s not just the size, but the shape of my arms that’s impressive – they honestly look like those in the bodybuilding mags. I’ve got a decent peak on the biceps, a well-formed horseshoe shape on my triceps, and great definition between the muscles. And they’re not just for show – Miguel’s workout routine has made me so much stronger, too. Right now I’m curling 200 pounds for reps, which feels insane because I used to struggle with those 5-pound fry baskets just over a year ago. The other guys in the gym are always stopping and watching when I lift my overloaded barbells, and I know some of them are either dying to ask me how I got so big, dying to give my arm a squeeze, or dying to get me in bed and see the rest of my body. They’re definitely noticing at the restaurant, too – both guests and other employees. Everyone is talking about how huge I’m getting, and Abigail has some tough competition for my bedroom time – there’s also Courtney, Selena, and Chet. Yeah, that last one’s a guy, but he gives the BEST blowjobs I’ve ever had. 20 inches I tell you, I’m turning into a fuckin’ monster of muscle. My arms are now 20 inches around at their peak, fully twice the size as when I started lifting. I’m up to 250 pounds and also grew an inch to 6’3” (maybe my body needed more room to accommodate all the fresh beef?). I’m way bigger than Miguel now – I passed his stats about a month ago, and after watching him lick his lips as he stared at me in the gym shower, we decided to give the other members an eyeful when I full-on fucked him with my super cock. God can that man really take it up the ass better than all my other lovers. In other news, I left my job at Big & Beefy. I was getting too large to fit behind the counter, and I’d already blasted through the largest size shirt they had (ironic for a place called Big & Beefy, right?). So now I’m looking for a new gig to support myself and a new source of the 8,000 calories a day I need to keep growing. 22 inches I got a surprise the other day: a text from the owner of Big & Beefy. He asked to meet, so I Uber-ed up to his home in the swankier side of town. Apparently, business has dropped off since I left the restaurant, as there were a lot of guests who came in just to see the hunky Assistant Manager. I told him that I didn’t think coming back to work would be a good fit, and he agreed – and that’s not why he asked to meet. He said he was looking for someone to be the face (and body) for Big & Beefy since he’s about the rebrand the concept, and he thought I would be the perfect model. I was flattered when he asked, and even more flattered when he showed me the agreement and told me how much I would be paid – for a few hours work, I was going to earn more than I had at the restaurant in the past two years. I immediately said yes. I guess I should have tried to be humble and say something like “I cannot believe you think I would be a good Big & Beefy man,” but hell, I am perfect for the job! I just passed 275 pounds and got my arms up to 22 inches. I go sleeveless all the time now – not because I cannot find shirts that fit (I can, but it ain’t easy), but because I want the world ogling my pythons wherever I go. I love every minute I spend in the gym blasting them with weight, making them grow and grow and grow. I’ve also shaved off all my body hair so that nothing distracts from the glory of my muscles, and on the advice of one of my lovers (Selena), I shaved the hair on top of my head and cut off my scraggly beard. She works as a stylist and thought I would look a lot tougher with a cleanshaven head, and she was right – I look like a fuckin’ bull now. Oh, and the restaurant owner, Nick – he not only liked how looked for professional reasons, but also for personal ones. At the end of the meeting at his house, he was trying desperately to hide his boner, but it was really sticking out in his slacks. He’s not my usual type – a bit older and kinda flabby – but I walked right up to him, shoved my flexed right arm in his face, and told him I could tell he wanted me as more than just a model. Nick didn’t even hesitate a second before his hands and tongue were all over my arm – I guess it must have been a while since he had sex, too, or maybe he just really was into me. We ended up spending the rest of the day together either in his bed or in the kitchen chowing down on everything in his fridge. 24 inches Today’s the day of the photo shoot for Big & Beefy, and I am more than living up to my end of the bargain. Just last week I got my weight up past 300, and my arms are now 24 fuckin’ inches around. Truly insane. Yeah, my chest is 70 inches, and my quads have gotten up to 35 inches, but everyone always notices my arms first. It probably doesn’t hurt that I am constantly flexing them and showing them off. They’re just so MASSIVE – not even Arnold in his prime had bigger or stronger arms than me. I was given a 4XL Big & Beefy shirt to wear for the shoot, and it was so snug I could barely get it on. We did some shots of me eating, and then working out. It was funny – they thought they had brought enough plates for the barbell to challenge me, but they were about 75 pounds too light, so one of the production assistants had to run and buy more weight. I ended up curling 300 pounds over and over again for the different shots, and by the end my pythons were so fuckin’ pumped with blood – they must have been closer to 25 inches. The director then took some video of me flexing and damn if my muscles didn’t just rip right through the sleeves while he was filming. It was so HOT and the production team was thrilled with the footage they got. Nick was thrilled, too. He was watching the shoot in the studio but had to excuse himself to the bathroom three times during the day to…well, you know. When we got back home, I fucked him twice and listened to him tell me over and over what a beast I was. Oh, and yes, I moved in with Nick. I made it clear to him that we were just fuck buddies and not boyfriends, and that was fine with him. He set me up my own bedroom, installed a gym in the basement, and even added a full-size pool for me in the backyard. His personal chef makes me whatever food I want, and his personal tailor takes care of all my clothes. All day long I get to eat, lift, and fuck whoever I want. 26 inches The new branding campaign started for Big & Beefy, and it’s been a HUGE success. My face and body are plastered on billboards and posters all over the city, and the restaurants have been packed with customers. Nick told me last night that things are going so well he’s going to take the company public and make himself an even bigger fortune not only for himself, but he plans to share 50% with me. I may use the money to get my own place, but who knows, I’m pretty comfortable right living here and may just stay put. In addition to giving me anything I want, Nick is also a very giving lover…he is happy to pleasure every inch of me for hours on end without expecting anything in return (but he definitely likes getting fucked while holding on to my arms). The only thing that won’t stay put is my size – I’m still growing larger. I’m at 330 pounds of beef and my arms – my truly spectacular arms – are now a mind-boggling 26 inches around. You have to see ‘em to believe ‘em. 26 inches is roughly the circumference of a volleyball, if that helps you picture them. But mine aren’t just shapeless globes – they’re thickly corded with rock-hard muscle, covered with giant veins, and make me look strong enough to lift a car (I haven’t tried yet, but I am willing to try!). My whole body is huge, but nothing makes me feel more like a fuckin’ stud, and nothing else gets the same amount of attention, than my arms. In fact, I got offered $1,000 by a guy at the beach last night just to touch them, but I made him pay me two grand instead (well, I let him suck my cock in the cabana as well). Turns out he was some tech guru and ended up giving me $20K to spend the whole night, which I of course accepted. Also, Miguel still comes over every so often for worship session – I don’t charge him for his tickets to the gun show, since he helped me more than anyone to reach this immense size, and he knows my body so well and makes me cum gallons more than anyone else. Ok, enough writing for now. I gotta get into the gym for another workout. It’s arm day again – to be fair, that’s pretty much every day for me. I’m gonna blast them hard and see if I can pump them up to 27 or 28 inches. Nick’s bringing a friend home tonight and I want to impress them both with the biggest arms in the world. God, I love my arms.
    34 points
  7. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 6 By the time April came, the fury over our wedding had died down to twice-a-week updates from one media outlet or another about our supposed nuptial plans. They somehow still hadn’t discovered that Miles Uhler was just a pen name—I suspect Margaret had pulled off that coup. But, my unmasking was an inevitability we’d deal with later. I wasn’t planning a wedding, but I had planned our honeymoon. There were a lot of moving pieces, but I was pleased with what I’d put together. And I was pretty sure Jason would be too. The whole car ride to the airport, Jason tried to wheedle details out of me. “You know I’m not thrilled by surprises,” Jason said the morning of the honeymoon. “I would’ve helped.” “Ah, but when it comes to The Repository, I always take the reins,” I replied. “It’s going to be that kind of honeymoon?” Jason said, bumping his knee into mine playfully. “Of course, it is.” “I’m still nervous. You packed my bags for me. You made all the arrangements.” “Lacey helped a lot,” I confessed. “Yeah, but she wouldn’t tell me anything,” Jason said. “Believe me. I tried. I even threatened to fire her unless she spilled, but she knew that was an empty threat.” “You’re going to love it,” I teased. “Will you at least tell me where we’re going?” he begged. “The airport,” I answered honestly. To my absolute pleasure, there were no paparazzi waiting for us, and we boarded the plane without incident. I’d chartered us a private plane with tinted windows, so as soon as the cabin was sealed, I gave Jason back his deposit. Because we’d been out in public, Jason had chosen to wear clothes for his 185-pound size: a comfortable long-sleeve black T and his travel jeans. Watching him swell into clothes too small for his size, I was enraptured. His shoulders pushed the shirt broader, his muscles stretching the collar, showing a hint of his pecs, which became all the more noticeable as they pressed out further into his shirt, nipples first, rounding out the front and pulling up the hem, which revealed his 6-pack hardening into a solid 8-pack. His hips and ass pushed out the back of his jeans, threatening the rear seam with its full, powerful glory. His legs thickened too, his thighs swelling out curved lines of muscular perfection. His jeans now looked painfully tight. How nothing tore or ripped is beyond me. Jason looked at me with slight panic in his eyes. “But the flight crew! They’ll see me!” “The one flight attendant and the small number of people we’ll bump into on our honeymoon have all been paid well for their silence, and if they try to spill the beans, who will believe them about this?” A male flight attendant, lithe and muscular with a prodigiously bulging pouch, came out from the cockpit, locking it behind him. His nametag said “Tanner.” “Can I help you gentlemen to your seats? Or with your bags?” Relaxing a little, Jason handed over his bag. As he did, the muscles in his biceps and forearm flexed and contracted, threatening the sleeve of his shirt. It was wrapped around him so tightly, I could see the bulges his veins made in the fabric. The flight attendant saw to our bags, and Jason turned to me, “You could’ve told me so I would’ve worn more comfortable clothing.” “And deprive myself of seeing you overstuff your clothes? Why?” I took my seat—specially designed to be wide enough to fit me comfortably; I’d paid extra for it to be installed. “Is this a long flight?” Jason said, gingerly sitting down, trying not to blow the ass out of his pants, his shirt fighting to contain him as the hem rode up even higher, revealing four of his abs. Tanner returned. “If the gentleman is uncomfortable in his clothes, there are a few minutes until take-off. You could change. Or, if the gentleman would prefer, I can pull this curtain and you can fly to your destination unencumbered by clothing." Tanner pointed to a thick black curtain that separated the front of the cabin from the rest of it. “I will remain behind this curtain for your privacy if the gentlemen so desire.” "What?" Jason said, surprised by that suggestion. I explained. “The company who charters these flights, they made it pretty clear that people have sex in these planes all the time. They didn’t say it explicitly, but they did ask if I wanted a king-sized bed installed. The flight attendants are used to turning a blind eye.” “We’ll call you if we need you,” Jason said, shooing Tanner back to his hiding spot behind the black curtain. When it closed, Jason tore off his shirt—literally. It split in half over the hills of his pecs. He lowered his pants as far as he could. His sleeves were trapped on his shoulders and arms, but his chest was free and heaving. His pants had only gotten as far down as his thighs. “Help me out?” he asked me. I pulled him out of his clothes, admiring the way his body looked so massive and muscular in this small, private plane. The ceiling was only two inches above Jason’s head, making him look practically gigantic. “I think I’ll join you,” I said, whipping off my shirt and taking off my own pants. “Let’s save our underwear until we’re in the air,” Jason said. “Good call,” I said, strapping myself into the chair, the seatbelt cutting between my massive, furry pecs, splitting them apart. The seatbelt did something very similar to Jason’s own pecs. Takeoff was smooth as cream, and as soon as the plane was airborne, Jason physically relaxed more thoroughly than I’d seen in months. About three seconds later, an announcement told us we could take off our seatbelts, and Jason was immediately on his knees in front of me, lowering my briefs. “Why so eager?” I asked. He stroked my cock with his hand, bringing it to erection. At the same time, he said, “I have never been this big outside our house without a disguise; you have. I have never had sex in public; you have. However, one thing I know neither of us has ever done is have sex in an airplane. What better way to start our honeymoon?” He took my cock in his mouth and began delighting my head with his togue, stroking the shaft with his hands and lips, and being attentive to my entire cock. He had a lot of practice deep throating me, and he brought me to orgasm so quickly, I was blindsided by it—so blindsided that, mid-roar, I almost hit the button to summon Tanner. Thankfully, Jason knocked my hand aside, stopping me at the last second. As soon as I had come, he looked up at me ravenously. I knew that look well. He leaned back onto the flats of his palms while lowering his underwear and pushing his hips up and out, giving me full access to his cock. Smiling, I joined him on the floor and reciprocated his generous blow job. I loved having Jason’s cock in my mouth. It was rigid and firm, thick and long, salty but not musty. It was just a beautiful cock. Every now and then, even two years into our relationship, I’d have moments of cognitive dissonance and remember that I had a Hollywood movie star’s cock in my mouth, and it would make things exciting all over again. While I blew him on the plane, and he was on his hands and feet, back arched, moaning as I blew him, I had that cognitive dissonance again. I was on a plane blowing a Hollywood movie star, a celebrity marveled at by millions and lusted after by hundreds of thousands, was allowing me to suck his cock. I re-focused my attention on his cock, and seconds later, he was coming hard down my throat. He swore so profusely I was sure Tanner would come back in out of sheer curiosity if not concern, but he didn’t. When Jason had finished, he relaxed onto the floor, panting. I was still between his thighs, watching the last few drops of cum dribble out of his cock. As I sat there, Jason chuckled. "Why are you laughing?" I asked. “It just occurred to me that the author of my favorite book series, a New York Times bestseller with over a dozen novels on his résumé, was giving me a blow job on a private plane, and suddenly I felt a little surreal.” “We are so well-matched,” I said. We lay there on the plane in the altogether like that for an hour. I watched his muscular chest rise and fall, admiring just how ripe and juicy it looked, and he stroked my chest lovingly, his fingers getting caught in the thicket of my chest hair. Without opening the curtain, Tanner announced that lunch would soon be served. “How long is this flight?” Jason asked. “About eight hours,” I answered honestly. “We should get dressed for lunch, then,” he sighed. “Or,” I said, getting up and leaving Jason there. Completely naked, I walked over to the curtain separating us from the flight attendant’s section and opened it. Unfazed, he looked at me and asked, “Is there anything I can help you gentlemen with?” “My traveling companion and I would like to have lunch now but would like to remain nude,” I said flatly. “Very good,” Tanner said. “I’ll wheel it out myself in just two minutes.” I returned to Jason, and he was bright red, but smiling wildly. “He has no problem with us just being naked?” “He’s doing his job,” I said dismissively. “His job involves serving food to naked men?” Jason replied, unconvinced. I explained. “First of all, we’re fucking hot, so he’s probably enjoying the show. Secondly, the people I chartered this plane from implied heavily that for another hundred dollars, Tanner would spend the entire flight naked himself. Thirdly, I get the impression that for another couple of hundred dollars, he’d fuck one or both us.” “Tanner’s a prostitute?” Jason asked as the flight attendant came back in. “I’m a flight attendant,” he said, wheeling in the cart with our lunches. “But, yes, I would definitely have sex with either or both of you gentlemen.” He winked. “At no additional charge.” “Good to know,” Jason said as he got up and went over to our seats to eat. Lunch was an opulent meal, replete with champagne and caviar. “You did say lavish,” I reminded him. “It’s sumptuous,” Jason said. “There’s only one thing I’d add, but it’s so childish.” “Who cares if it’s childish?” I asked, leadingly. “The one thing that would make it perfect is…” Before Jason could finish his sentence, Tanner pulled a small silver tray off the cart and pulled off the cloche. Sitting on the tray was a single Boston cream doughnut. “I shouldn’t,” Jason said. “It’s so much sugar.” “We’re on vacation,” I reminded him. “Besides, look at you,” I said, pointing to his 8-pack. “A doughnut isn’t going to kill you.” Jason still wavered. “And if makes you feel better, we’ll go on a strict diet and workout regimen as soon as we get back to LA.” “You promise?” he asked. “My career kind of depends on this,” he rubbed his abs. “I’ll call Curtis myself if I have to,” I said, crossing my heart. “He owes you.” “Would the gentleman care to indulge?” Tanner asked, lowering the tray so it was under Jason’s nose. “Oh, yes, please,” Jason said, taking the doughnut and cramming it into his mouth, biting half of it off. “Slow down,” I said. “Savor it.” “This is the only way to eat a doughnut,” Jason answered, his mouth full. He swallowed and said, “If you can’t finish it in two bites, it wasn’t a very good doughnut.” He shoved the rest of it in one bite. “I guess I’ve never seen you eat a doughnut,” I said. “I’ve snuck you doughnuts onto movie sets and the like. But I don’t think I’ve actually ever seen you eat one.” “I’ve never let anyone see me eat one. They’re my shameful secret. I must really love you.” Then, we both laughed. After lunch, Jason asked me again where we were going. “We’re far enough along that I can answer that now. I rented us a private island. It’s a tiny little thing, near French Polynesia, but not technically part of French Polynesia. It’s such a small island, we could literally take ten steps from our bed and be on the beach. The weather promises to be sublime. There is only one other person who will be there, and even then, only to cook our meals and to do some light housekeeping. She boats in and boats out. She’ll be there less than an hour each day, and I’ve been assured that if we time our swims just right, we can go the entire two weeks without seeing her.” “You got us a cook/maid for the vacation? Are we that bougie?” “I don’t want to spend our honeymoon cooking, and you burn toast.” “Fair. That’s fair.” We lightly dozed in each other’s arms for the rest of the flight until Tanner woke us up by announcing that we would be landing shortly. “We should get dressed,” Jason said as he got into his seat to land. “There will be people at the airport. Maybe I should give you my standard deposit.” All the relaxation he had enjoyed in the air seemed gone as he became a little panicked. “Jason,” I soothed. “These private islands are expensive for a reason. Did you not notice our plane was equipped to land on water?” “We’re landing right at the island?” He did not believe me. “We did have to land at an airport in Hawaii to refuel,” I acknowledged, “but I guess we slept through that.” “So, no people, no airport.” “Just the island,” I said. “Tanner will take what little luggage we have into our cabin, and the rest of the two weeks is just us two.” “I love it,” Jason said, throwing his arms around me. Then, after a pause, he broke the embrace and added, “Wait? What little we have?” “The island is well stocked. And I didn’t pack much clothes,” I admitted. “Who wants tan lines?” The plane landed smoothly. Tanner helped us out of the plane and then saw to our luggage. The island was gorgeous. There was a dark brown pier that extended into the ocean, but most of the island was unspoiled beach. The sand was a pale beige, almost white, and felt as smooth as talcum powder. The water was so blue that it was turquoise. Our five-room cabin was deluxe. The main room, a sitting room or living room of sorts, opened up on to the beach. The exterior wall was actually a sliding door. We could slide the wall in and remove any barrier between the room and the beach. The furniture was plush and cushiony, the floors a hard wood the same color as the dock. The room beyond that was a dining area. It had an intimate table, with both a chandelier and candlesticks in case we wanted romantic ambience. It also had a well-stocked bar right there in the dining area. The dining area was separated from the kitchen by a partition—that way, while the cook was in there, we could close the partition and still have uninterrupted privacy. Also, the cook could open the door to the dining area even if her hands were full. The kitchen was full of a number of appliances I couldn’t even name, but we’d only go in there for three reasons: the cold drinks in the fridge, the snacks in the cabinets, and the whipped cream if Jason wanted me for late night dessert. The bathroom was just as luxurious as the rest of the house. It had a tub big enough for the both of us (essentially a small swimming pool), a shower big enough for both of us (essentially its own room), and a fully stocked linen closet with the softest towels I had ever felt. The entire floor of the bathroom was tiled, and there was a sky light over the tub in case we wanted to bathe under the stars. The bedroom alone would have been enough to make me want to stay here. Like the living room, it had a wall that could be slid out to remove any separation between us and the beach. The bed was enormous—it practically took up one whole wall and was giant enough to fit both of us twice. The mattress itself was strong and supple, the pillows heavenly. The bedding was all in shades of red and black. There was a closet in the room as well, a walk-in with two doors that opened like barn doors. It would get little use from us. Next to the bed was a nightstand, which, upon my request, Tanner had well stocked with a variety of lubricants I’d packed. Jason and I had been monogamous for two years, so we didn’t bother with condoms anymore, but there was a whole world of lubes still to try. The remaining wall had an LED fireplace with a decadent rug in front of it. After touring the house at a run, Jason came back out on the beach, still naked, where I stood waiting for him. “I love it!” he shouted, throwing his arms out to the side. Enjoying his freedom, he spun around on the beach, his muscles flexing and bouncing from the exertion, his cock swinging in the sea air. “I knew you would,” I said. Tanner had just loaded our last piece of luggage inside, and before he got back on the plane, he said, “You gentlemen enjoy your stay,” and then handed me my cell phone and departed. It was now just Jason and me on the island. “I’m glad to hear you’re happy,” I said to Jason, wagging my phone as the plane took off behind me. “There’s an alarm set on both of our phones to give us a 15 minute warning when the housekeeper/cook is coming.” “Love it,” Jason said. “That way we won’t have to worry about being interrupted while we enjoy ourselves. But let’s not spend our vacations on our phones. Put yours away and come frolick with me.” “I’d be happy to. Before that, though, there is one call I have to make.” I held my cell phone next to my ear.
    34 points
  8. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 9 We spent the next few days doing roughly the same things, but Jason was able to hold a full conversation, becoming his normal charming self again. However, he did stare at me a lot, and he doubled the amount of times he applied sunscreen to my body. Navigating the world at 500 pounds of freakish muscle was an interesting challenge. Whenever I sat on a chair, I felt practically a foot taller because my ass was so massive. Doorways, even wide ones, were logic puzzles. I had to be delicate when I held things, or I’d crush them. I had to be dainty when I lifted things up, or they’d go flying. And if I embraced Jason without being careful, I could snap him in half. Other aspects were equally challenging. When we sat on the beach reading, I had to learn how to hold my tablet again. Before, I’d rested it on my chest, holding it in my hands. However, with my chest larger than a mountain range stretching into the sky and my biceps burly barrels of muscle, I couldn’t hold my tablet there. I had to wedge it between my chest and my chin, sliding to the next page with my nose. The few times I looked up from my book, I caught Jason gawking at the display made by my muscular mass. Showering was also a two-man, two-stage job now. All by myself, I filled the giant shower. All the water hit the cliff of my pecs and rolled off it. If I didn’t move back and forth and stretch while showering, I could take a shower without my abs ever getting wet. And Jason had to wash my back and my hair, which he did as I overfilled the tub. As hard as I tried, there was no way to reach my back, and my biceps collided into my shoulders when I reached for the top of my head, precluding shampooing myself. Thankfully, Jason got off on washing me like a zoo beast. I also had to learn how to eat again. The housekeeper/cook had been given instructions to prepare a ridiculous amount of food for the second week, and I was always hungry. At the same time, for the first day, I had trouble getting food to my face. My bicep would crash into my pec, and the spoon or fork could just barely reach my lips. Jason circumvented this challenge by feeding me my food with his fingers. With every bite, I licked and sucked his fingers. Thankfully, the more I practiced, the better I got at feeding myself such that after 48 hours of being an inhuman juggernaut of muscle, I was able to eat like a normal person. On the night of day 10, Jason was lying on top of me in front of our LED fireplace, just basking in the heat that radiated from my body. He was lying face down on top of me so we could look at each other. He was looking furry and sexy, growing hairier by the day. Especially with this scraggly, untamed wild man beard, he looked incredibly rugged and hot. He looked deep in thought, so I asked, “Whatcha thinkin’ ’bout?” I was worried he was thinking about the tabloid nightmare that awaited us on the mainland. Jason blushed. “That I’m the biggest I’ve been in my life, and you’re twice as big as me.” “Really? That’s what you’re thinking about?” I was relieved. “Can’t you feel my erection?” He asked, lifting himself up and showing his cock. “Of course I can,” I said. “But you’ve been constantly erect since I got this big. I figured it was just a permanent feature of your anatomy.” “You tease, but it’s not my fault. I’m constantly blown away by the size disparity between us.” A thought popped into my head. A devious, dirty, despicable thought that I knew Jason would love. “You know,” I tempted him. “If I took your standard deposit right now, I’d be three times your size.” “What?” “185 times 3. That’s 555. If I took your standard 67 pound deposit, I’d be 569, and you’d be 185.” I felt something warm and sticky on my abs. “You’d do that?” “For a night,” I said. “I’d want to go back to 500 before we went to bed.” Jason bounced off me and helped me up onto my feet. “Then you can borrow 67 pounds,” he cheered. Jason the bodybuilder-sized superhero dwindled down to Jason the TV star. He was still fit and muscular at 185, a physique most guys would kill for, but he looked like a very fit guy, not the bastion of muscle I knew him as at home. Then I felt it. My muscles expanded even further. My chest rose up even more fully. My arms pushed out even thicker. My ass widened. My legs pressed fully into each other. I felt like a ton of concrete had been poured into me. I wanted to look around to survey the damage as it happened, but my ever-increasing size was making that impossible. I was beyond huge. From the inside, I felt massive. I’d already felt planet-sized at 500; 67 more pounds was like adding a moon to my orbit. I felt so heavy and powerful that lesser men would fall into geosynchronous orbit around me. Jason walked up to me and flexed his arm. It looked small and lean, but with some noticeable definition and just a hint of size. I flexed my arm, and it was reality-alteringly huge, thicker around than his chest. I tried to walk, and I could wiggle my way a few steps forward at a time, but I now had to throw my legs out so far to propel myself forward that after just those few steps, I had to stop to catch my breath and reposition my body to reorient myself. I couldn’t look down; I couldn’t look left or right. My muscles were too hard, thick, and swollen for those basic operations. When I reached the door, I realized my only way through would be to plow through it like a cartoon character, leaving a muscleman-shaped hole behind me. "Jason," I said. “Take some pictures of the two of us together. This is so extreme that we need photographic evidence, and if I went to get it myself, it would take 2 hours.” “On it,” Jason replied as he ran to grab his camera. He set it up to take a picture every ten seconds, and then we went through a few flexes and poses. Jason looked through the photos, thrilled with what he saw, showing me a few choice pictures on the camera screen. The mass of muscle next to Jason barely looked human—vaguely human-shaped piles of muscle, really. Jason, though, Jason glowed. He looked so elated, so delighted. His face practically radiated a light of intense joy and lust. It inspired me. “Set the camera back up to take some more photos,” I said. “Why?” “You’re going to want some more pictures. Tomorrow’s your 30th birthday, and I want to do something for you that I will never do again, but I want you to have the experience of it once.” “Okay?” Jason was confused. “Once,” I said. “You got it. This is your talent. I’ve said nothing.” “I wanted to fuck you at this size, but I just don’t have the dexterity. If you lend me 35 more pounds, you’ll be 150 pounds. I’ll be 604. Four times your size.” “Four times?” Jason said, his voice trembling. “Will you be able to speak if I do this?” Jason nodded solemnly and wordlessly. Then, he shook his head to refocus his thoughts and added, “You can hardly function at three times my size.” “I know,” I said. “At four times your size, I’ll be completely unable to move. And then,” I teased, feigning helplessness, “whatever you want to do me, sexually or not, I’m not really going to be able to stop it. Am I?” Jason’s eyes grew wider than I’d ever seen them. “I can barely move now. 35 more pounds, and I’m trapped here. Subject to any whim and flight of fancy you might have.” Jason blurted out, “You can borrow 35 more pounds.” He whittled down to a very skinny tall guy. Rail thin. Five pounds smaller than I’d ever seen him, and at that weight range, five pounds really made a difference. He was still hot; he was still Jason, but he looked so small and so young. At the same time, I felt his muscles pour into me, heavy and thick. My chest pushed up so fully into my chin that I had to use deliberate force to pry open my mouth. My arms were so far out to the sides that I was practically a T. I could still move my arms a little bit, I could still wiggle my fingers and toes, but otherwise, I was just a statue of muscle. I had never felt so heavy and so strong, and yet so completely at Jason’s mercy. I could feel my cock grow steely hard at the thought of being a prisoner of my own muscle. Jason’s camera took a whole slew of pictures of us, and then he vanished completely. I assume he was under my pecs, but I really had no way of telling. I was just too big to see where he was. All I could see was muscle. Then I could feel it. His ass on my cock. I don’t know what position he took, but he was fucking himself with my erect cock. I just had to stand there. Now, I was his masturbatory aid. I was so immobilized that I was just a muscular rubbing post for him to fuck himself with. I felt powerless, and yet orgasmically powerful at the same time. My dick was still hypersensitive, and my brain was alive with pleasure, even though I could barely move to react to it. I stood there, twitching autonomically as Jason put my cock through its paces. As the pleasure in my cock built, I heard the string of curses that indicated that Jason was orgasming. And then, my cock swelled a little bit further and shot. On a normal day, I make a lot of noise when I orgasm. A 600-pound version of me? The roof shook. I practically felt the whole island shake. But Jason kept pumping. It didn’t feel like his ass anymore—it felt like his hands. But even though I had just orgasmed, he was pumping me, teasing and tickling the sensitive head of my cock. And I couldn’t fight back. I wanted to shake him off me, but my body was too big to move that way, so I just sat there, orgasming and trembling. The pleasure was so intense that I wanted to force him away from my cock, but I could barely wiggle my arms, and kicking him away was entirely out of question. I just had to stand there while he kept up the hand job right after I’d orgasmed. He pushed me past pleasure into pain, pain so intense that I winced constantly, and my breathing grew erratic. My cock was on fire. Then, the pain turned back into pleasure, back into pain, into torture, back around into pleasure. The whole time, my lungs screaming for oxygen and my heart thundering in my ears. I later learned that he kept this up for almost ten minutes. He kept my 16-inch cock in that highly sensitive, aroused state for almost ten whole minutes. Then, somehow, the orgasm cycled back around, and I was cumming again, a brand new orgasm without the last orgasm having ever properly stopped. This time, the island definitely shook. “That was incredible,” Jason said. “I’m going to be vibrating for hours,” I managed to say, still trying to catch my breath. “Maybe days.” Would I ever feel normal again? It was hard to believe so at that moment. All my instincts were to give Jason back his deposit so I could move around, sit down, calm down at some semblance of normal. So, out loud, I asked, “I don’t want to cut your fun short, but are you ready for me to give you back your muscle?” “Yeah,” Jason said with a sadness in his voice. “It was a nice visit, even if it was a short one.” “What time is it?” I asked. “Almost midnight,” Jason responded. A second later, he corrected himself. “Now it’s midnight.” Inside me, that part of me that just knew the rules, was trying to tell me something, so I went with it. “Jason, you can have back your muscle. And, on top of that, you can borrow 125 additional pounds of muscle, four inches of cock, and half of the testicle size I’m borrowing.”
    33 points
  9. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 7 I hung up the phone and tossed it gently through the open door so it landed on the couch. As it flew through the air, Jason asked, “Is The Repository taking a deposit?” “Could be,” I said, as I felt a tingling in my genitalia. “Could be that I know my man is a size queen, and I want to keep him happy.” “I’m happy with 9 inches,” Jason said as he stared at my cock expectantly. “I know you’re happy,” I responded, “but are you honeymoon happy? We’ve played with enough sex toys for me to know that 9 inches is not your max by a long shot.” “King Kong?” he asked, practically drooling. “Maybe,” I said as I felt the tingling intensify. The largest of our sex toys, so big that I don’t know how Jason can take it up his ass, King Kong, is 15 inches long and incredibly thick and impossibly rigid. And again, Jason can take it all. “Maybe I wanted to give you challenge.” My balls began to bulge and surge, rounding out, becoming heavier and fuller, pulling down on my pelvis deliciously insistently. Soon, each was the size of my fist, but still they kept swelling. Even though I had taken these deposits from a number of men who had had genital enlargement surgeries, in me, they were real testicles, and I could feel them roil and surge with semen and hormones. And still they swelled larger until each by itself was larger than my fist, twin ostrich eggs hanging from my body. As they grew, Jason walked over and was now hefting one in his hand. “It’s so heavy and warm,” Jason cooed. He tried to palm it, but it was just too big for his hand. “And it’s just beginning,” I said as my cock tingled further. The weight pulling down on my pelvis increased further as my flaccid cock became longer and thicker, inching out and unspooling to a new impossible length. Hanging solidly over my impossibly large balls, it crawled further down until it was approaching my knee. The head swelled larger, ripening, and the shaft thickened. Even in this state, there was a visible vein running down its length. When the weight pulling from my crotch felt that it had more than doubled, the tingling stopped, and I had a whopper of a cock. “Miles, this is beautiful,” he said, kneeling down to nuzzle it. “It’s simply beautiful. But it’s not bigger than King Kong.” As he took it in his hands, he realized everything. “It’s soft!” He cried. “It’s giant, but it’s still soft!” “If you keep at that, it won’t be soft for much longer,” I responded. His attention and near horrified reaction at how impossibly large I’d grown was turning me on, and the maelstrom of hormones surging through me didn’t help much. The vein on my cock’s surface thickened, and I could feel it begin to swell and engorge and harden. It lengthened down even further than it already hung and started to swell thicker, the head reddening. Jason, instinctively, reached out to touch it, and the tentative but palpable feeling of his strong hands on my cock caused it to stiffen more, sticking out, lifting up. At my normal 9 inches, my cock sticks straight out, and my new ultra-cock was trying to do the same thing. But, as Jason was so close to me, when my cock engorged enough to lift up completely, it crashed into his chin, and he tumbled backwards, more out of surprise than the physical impact, but looking down at him over my colossal pecs, it sure looked like my cock was so powerful that it knocked him back. That image pushed me even further, and my cock thickened more lengthened just a bit more, and the head purpled, oozing a stream of pre-cum. Now fully erect, my cock was a deadly weapon jutting from my crotch, standing so strongly and so tight and full and hard that it practically pulled me forward. I had to clench my ass just to counterbalance its pull. “How big is it?” Jason asked from the ground. “How big are you? Length and circumference.” I asked, pointing to his erect cock, which was leaking like a broken faucet at the sight of my gargantuan cock. “8 inches long, 6 inches around,” Jason recited. He was proud of those measurements, so he said them often. “You know that.” “Just had to make you say it.” I put my hands behind my head, flexed my biceps to frame my face, and tilted my hips forward. “Because your husband is now twice as big as you are.” “16? 16 inches?” Jason asked, scurrying back to my cock. His hands and lips were all over it: kissing it, caressing it, fondling it, loving it. “If it’s twelve inches around, I’m never going to get this into my mouth,” Jason realized. “Sort of the point,” I taunted. “Your eyes were always bigger than your stomach. Or, in this case, mouth.” Undaunted, Jason bounded to his feet and grabbed the shaft of my cock and started walking into the cabin, leading me along like my cock was a leash. I followed, curious to see what would happen. When we got to the bedroom, he let go, grabbed a bottle of our go-to lube, and doused me with it. My cock was slippery and dripping. Then, he flung himself onto the bed with his legs into the air. After holding that position for a bit, he chirped, “Come on,” while smiling and inviting me over with his head. “Someone’s eager,” I teased. “Someone’s very eager,” he replied. “You’re already the largest man I’ve ever taken. Now I want you to be the biggest thing I’ve ever taken.” I got in between his legs and put each of his feet on my corresponding shoulder. Then, I lined myself up with his hole. I was further away than I’d ever been, so it kind of felt like I was trying to play pool with a baguette while standing a foot away from the table. Eventually, though, I lined everything up. Normally, on a night of regular sex, Jason didn’t need to be stretched out too much, but I figured this was no regular sex. So, I eased my head in bit by bit. I had never squeezed my cock into such a tight space. Or rather, my cock had never taken up so much room. As Jason opened up, the hole got more and more inviting, but it was still vicelike in its grip. Jason practically applauded as I stretched him wider. After a few minutes of gentle easing, my head was all the way, and Jason was already writhing. With just my head in, I was already stimulating his prostate. Encouraged, I eased my way in further. My cock felt constricted in the most pleasant way possible. All of my nerve endings danced and lit up as I made my way further into him. Jason was breathing heavily, but giving me the go ahead. He was gesturing his arms like a ground crew steering an airplane to the terminal, and, essentially, I did have a jumbo jet. After 15 minutes of easing, I felt it—I’d bottomed out. Jason was red and vibrating with pleasure. “Did what I think happen happen?” he asked in stulted bursts. I looked down and saw that my impractical and impossible cock had bottomed out. “I’m all in.” I said. Jason threw his arms up in victory, then said, “Be gentle as you fuck me. I don’t want to get worn out on day one.” Tenderly, lovingly, gingerly, I began moving in and out. With all the friction between us, I was already getting close to orgasm, but this was as much about Jason as it was me. I continued pushing into him slowly and passionately. I essentially had to take two steps back to withdraw fully and take two steps forward to push back, and every time I did, my pendulous balls thudded into his ass, causing him to smile and pant. I could see Jason was getting close, so I picked up the pace. I pushed, I thrusted, I did everything in my power to please that ass, and in return, Jason was clenching and flexing his ass as best he could around the log of my cock. When he came, he let loose a torrent of jizz all over his chest and a waterfall of swear words at top volume. His whole body shook with the power of it. Spurred on by his orgasm, my own cock erupted. The power of my hose-like cock spraying cum out of its tip was so intense and powerful that entire galaxies of color flashed before my eyes. I don’t even know how much time passed between the start of my orgasm and its conclusion. My conscious mind was too blissed out. I leaned on the bed to catch my breath, and Jason pulled himself off me with a slippery pop. Then, giddily, he was on his feet cheering, “Race you to the ocean.” He was already waist-deep in the surf when I got there. “This seemed more fun than showering off the sex,” he said as he looked at me. My cock and balls were a leaden weight swinging back and forth in front of me. Between my increased genitals and my already massive thighs, I had to move deliberately as I walked, or I’d rack myself. It was exhilarating to fully realize that my junk was so large that I had to factor in my balls as I walked—nay, strutted—to the water. We splashed about for a minute, and, because the water was surprisingly still, I decided to really blow his mind. I looked at his wet, sparkling, gorgeous pecs, his buffed up muscles, and taut 8-pack, thinking about all the things we’ve done to each other to give myself an erection. Once that was achieved, I floated on my back, my 16-inch cock sticking straight up out of the water like the mast of a ship. When Jason saw it, he quickly ran inside, and came back out with his camera bag, which he’d seen I packed. He snapped a dozen photos of my towering erection in the surf. When that was done, he called me to the shore. He applied a coat of sunscreen to me, rubbing the lotion into my muscles tenderly, almost as a massage, taking especial attention to cover the tops of my pecs, the shelf of my ass, and the length of my cock. “Don’t want you to get burned and ruin the trip.” I applied a similar coat to him. “Don’t worry—it won’t sting your nether regions, and it’s waterproof.” And like that, we were back to splashing. I especially liked running in the water and feeling the current push my cock back between my legs like it was a rudder. When the alarm went off, we decided to stay in the water rather than get dressed. If we stayed in deep enough, there was no way of anyone telling if we were wearing bathing suits. The island was small enough that we could hear when the boat arrived and left, retroactively rendering my phone alarms kind of pointless, and so we decided to head in for dinner as soon as the coast was clear. The food was delicious, a wide variety of seafood, and we didn’t have to even clean up afterwards. That evening, we curled up together naked on the couch. I stroked Jason’s left arm with my fingertips, and he lazily stroked my cock with his right hand. We spent most of the night just holding each other and kissing passionately.
    33 points
  10. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 4 Dinner was a breath of fresh air—it felt like just a normal night, especially since every person at the table accepted that we weren’t actually going to get married. H. K. was disappointed, Paula was convinced we weren’t getting married because we were already married, Jonah was just happy to have a night away from his kids so he could drink with abandon, and Cole thought he still had a chance with Jason (and maybe me?). It might sound like a recipe for disaster, but it had been our usual dynamic, so it felt comfortably familiar. After dinner, H. K. and Paula went home. Jonah and Cole had planned on crashing at our place, but, as happy as Jonah had been in his freedom, when he called Max and Tommy to wish them goodnight, he started feeling something fierce, heartbroken over how much he missed his kids. Cole, who’d expected this exact scenario, hadn’t had anything to drink at dinner. “Come on, honey,” he said, corralling his drunk husband into their car, “I’ll drive us home. We’ll be there in time to wish them good morning.” “Thank you,” Jonah said. “Jason, Gerry, it was great to see you. Next time, we’ll bring the kids so we can stay longer.” Cole just waved goodbye, smiling cryptically. I couldn’t tell if he was upset with Jonah, ineffectively flirting with Jason, pleased they were going home, or some weird combination of all three. I drove Jason home. He was in a much better mood, but he’d had too much to drink, forgetting how much lower his tolerance was at 185 pounds. If I could give him back his deposit without ruining his clothes, the extra mass might have soaked up the booze, but then I would have had to contend with a naked Jason. And if it didn’t work, I didn’t want to deal with a drunk, naked Jason. When we got back to our house, Jason snuggled up next to me as we walked from the car to the front door. Being drunk always made him incredibly frisky, and he nuzzled my neck and held me close as we walked to the pathway. Then, impishly, he turned to me and said, “Race you to the bedroom,” and tore inside the house. He was through the front door before I’d even processed we were racing. After a second, Jason came running back out. “There’s someone inside the house!” he scream-whispered. “You saw a burglar?” I asked for clarity. “I didn’t see him, but I could just tell that someone was in there. Stuff was knocked over, and I think I heard footsteps.” “I’ll go in and check.” “No! What if they have a gun or something? Let’s call for help.” “Our phones are in the freezer,” I reminded him. Jason looked around panicky, then acquiesced. “Fine, but if you’re going in there, you’re borrowing 30 pounds of muscle.” Jason diminished to a size I’d only seem him at once or twice for some extreme vacation sex, but I blew up to an impossible 400 pounds, my chest jutting out so quickly that I popped the top two buttons off my shirt. My hairy chest enjoyed being kissed by the chill of the night air. My arms and shoulders were so wide that I was going to have to twist and turn to get through our front door, and I felt so thick and heavy that any chance of stealth was out the window. I half-expected I wouldn’t make it past the foyer before the burglar showed up to see my behemoth monstrosity and scream bloody murder. However, when I wedged myself through the front door, I was alone in the foyer. It was eerily quiet, but Jason was right; something was wrong. The photographs in our foyer were askew, and the carpet was crooked. One picture even looked like it had been knocked off the wall and inexpertly hung back up: a photo Jason had taken of the two of us curled up in the same armchair. Suddenly, I felt a man behind me, so I turned around, ready to strike. Before I struck, I realized who it was. “Jesus, Jason!” “It’s just me. I didn’t want to be left out there alone.” There was a sound from within the house, and I instinctively shielded Jason’s body with my excessive mass. “You’re right, Jason. I think there’s someone in our house.” He pointed to our security system. “Why didn’t this go off?” “Stay here,” I said. I grabbed an umbrella (a bright blue one) from the umbrella stand and left Jason in the foyer as I searched the house. I kept my ears pricked up to hear any sound as I crept through the house, brandishing my umbrella like a sword before me. Even if I looked like an overstuffed sausage wielding a blue banana, I felt like a warrior in Viking times. I went immediately to our living room. That’s where our entertainment system was, the stuff they’d be most likely to steal. Not only that, but the living room had some of the awards Jason and I had won, some of which (Jason’s in particular) might fetch a fair price on the black market, especially if the thief knew whose house he’d broken into. I scanned the living room in one slow circle, the umbrella pointed in front of me. There room was clear, but it did look like someone had rooted through our stuff. Undaunted, I headed up to our bedroom. When you live with a celebrity, stalkers are a real threat. If Jason had a stalker, he’d be pissed off that Jason and I were supposedly getting married. If we were lucky, a stalker might just want a lock of hair or a piece of clothing. If we were really unlucky, he’d want to kill Jason while we slept. I tiptoed up the stairs, now holding the umbrella like a baseball bat. My width blocked the entire staircase, so if there was a robber or a stalker upstairs, he wasn’t getting downstairs. When I got to the bedroom, the door was ajar. I normally kept it closed when we have guests (as we’d expected Jonah and Cole to be), but Jason just might have forgotten to close it. Pushing the door open with the umbrella, I turned sideways so I could fit through and eased my way into the bedroom. As I looked around the room, I heard a noise coming from downstairs. “Hurry!” Jason called nervously from the foyer. I had tensed into attack mode at the noise, but there was no one in the bedroom, but I could tell that all of our personal things had been rifled through. The only other places that might attract a burglar were my office for the computer equipment, the kitchen for our fancy appliances, and Jason’s study for his collectibles. All of that was on the first floor. I came back down the stairs, making sure that my massive weight was as silent as I could be at my mammoth size. Jason was standing in the living room, nervously tapping his foot, trying to reassure himself. “If someone had broken in, the alarm would have gone off,” he repeated. “Right? We’re jumping at shadows. Right?” I pressed my finger to my lips, and walked in to my office. I had never been in my office at this increased bulk, so everything looked comically smaller. After I got my bearings, I reassessed, and everything was where it was supposed to be; nothing had been disturbed. At least, that’s what I thought until I noticed that “Krixby #1,” the photo I’d taken of Jason years ago and which now hung with pride in my office, also looked like it had been knocked off the wall and inexpertly hung back up. Still moving quietly as possible, I went into the kitchen. Nothing had been disturbed. Everything was in its place. I grabbed our phones out of the freezer. Those hadn’t been stolen either. On my way from the kitchen to the study, I tossed Jason his phone, just in case. When I got to the study, the light was on—I could see it through the gap between the door and the carpeted hallway. It lit up a small trapezoidal patch of floor. This by itself didn’t mean anything. Jason often left his study light on, and I hadn’t checked before we left. In the current context, though, it was unnerving. I slowly opened the door and sidled through. There was a man in the study. He stood there, looking through the books, his back to me. He was in a big, black trench coat that obscured his shape and made him look like a living shadow. I took a big breath, gripped the umbrella tightly in both hands, and then bellowed, “Freeze, fucker, or I will fucking end you.” The man turned around, grabbing his chest, while saying, “Christ, Vaughn. You’ll give a man a heart attack.” When I saw the intruder’s face, I deflated and let the umbrella dangle by my side, its handle permanently deformed from my overtight grip. “Flynn?” I said. “Who else?” he said, still holding his chest. It was Flynn alright. He was more expensively coiffed than I’d ever seen him, there was grey at his temples, some lines at the corner of his eyes, but I’d know that face anywhere. He was still a rectangle of a man, seemingly even more muscular than the 250-pound brick who’d dumped me and run off to New York. It was hard to tell exactly because the trench coat draped on him unflatteringly. He looked good—I hate to admit it—but he did look good. Jason came running to the study, poised to dial 911. “False alarm,” I told him. “It’s just Flynn.” “Flynn?” Jason said. “Flynn your ex-boyfriend Flynn?” “The very same,” Flynn said, noticeably relaxing. “You scared the shit out of us,” I said, relief flooding my voice and body. “I scared you?” Flynn laughed. “Vaughn, you’re a fucking massive brute. I thought you were going to murder me.” “I was planning to,” I assured him. “How’d you get in here?” Jason asked, now more confused than scared. Flynn was about to answer, but I cut him off. “There is no answer he can give that will satisfy you. This is just a thing he does.” “He breaks into people’s houses?” Jason asked dubiously. “Yeah,” I said honestly. “I thought he was a millionaire business tycoon.” “Multi-millionaire,” Flynn corrected. “My net worth just keeps going up. Haven’t broken into a house in years. Thought it’d be fun. Like old times. You should be proud. You’ve got a secure set-up.” “Not secure enough if you broke in,” Jason said. “Plenty secure.” “Don’t act so blasé,” I said to Flynn as I poked him in the chest with the tip of the umbrella. “We live in a gated community. You got past the security guard, through our personal locked gate, and our locked front door. That’s not possible, even for…” I stopped dead when the reality hit me. I turned to Jason and said, “He bribed someone to let him in.” “Come on, Vaughn,” Flynn groaned in disappointment. “That was my big reveal.” “Who did you bribe?” Jason asked. “The person I bribed has already been fired. Very fired. Fired by a woman named Lacey Schreiberg.” “Damn straight they have,” Jason said. “Lacey’s getting a bonus.” “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Prentiss.” Flynn held out his hand, in full schmooze mode. “Jason,” Jason said, shaking Flynn’s hand. “People that break into my house call me by my first name.” “Still a pleasure,” Flynn responded. “If I may say, Jason, you look smaller in person. Less buff. Is it for a part?” Then he looked back at me. “And Vaughn, you look huge. Huger than your press.” Now it was Flynn’s turn to stop dead. “He knows you’re The Repository.” Jason nodded. “You can have your deposit back,” I said. I thought I was just returning the 30 extra pounds Jason had lent me to fight the burglar, but when I felt my clothes billow around me and heard Jason’s shirt split down the back, I realized I’d given back everything. Flynn smiled. “Now Jason looks beyond buff. And Vaughn…” Flynn thought through his word choice. “Well, he doesn’t look small. Smaller? Smaller than his press photos. But that’s still huge.” I could see the lightbulb go of in Flynn’s head. “You’re trading 50 or so pounds back and forth. So the press don’t know how big Jason’s got. Clever scam. I like it. I’m proud.” “It’s not a scam,” Jason said. “It’s an arrangement.” Flynn shrugged. His shoulders and chest pulled at the fabric of the trench coat. He’d definitely gotten bigger since college. “An arrangement makes sense. Since you’re getting married.” “We’re not getting married,” Jason moaned in frustration. “Oh my god. We did all that work, and even trespassers still think we’re getting married.” Jason kissed me on the cheek. “I’m going to put on clothes that fit me. And while I’m at it, I’ll check our messages, call Lacey, get ready for bed, paint the ceilings… Anything to get out of this room. Don’t join me until you’ve gotten rid of…” he pointed distastefully at Flynn, “that. If you have to murder him, don’t get any blood on my books.” With an antagonistic grunt, Jason went upstairs. “I don’t think your fiancé likes me.” “He’s not my fiancé. And why would he like you? You broke into our house!” Flynn sat on the leather couch and invited me to join him. “Theatrics. Wanted to see your house unobserved.” “Why’d you move the photographs?” I did not join Flynn on the couch. “To look at them up close. Who shot those photos?” “Jason shot all of them, except for the one of him in my office.” “Talented and handsome. See why you like him.” “I love him, Flynn.” “Then why aren’t you marrying him?” “Is that really any business of yours?” “Fine. I won’t ask about Jason. Sit down and join me. We haven’t seen each other in forever. I’m sure you miss me.” Grudgingly, I sat down next to him. Once I’d sat, he pointed to the twisted umbrella. “What’s with this?” “I thought you were a burglar or a stalker or worse. I needed a weapon.” “Vaughn, you are a weapon.” I rolled my eyes. “Why grab a bright blue one?” “It was the first one I found.” “And why aren’t you marrying Jason?” I stood up, griping, “You said you wouldn’t ask.” Flynn stood up at the same speed I did, saying, “I lied. I lie. You must remember that. I’m a liar. Lie all the time. Comes in handy as a CEO.” “Well, the magazines lied too. It’s not me getting married. It’s Shafe getting married. I just planned his bachelor party.” “Shafe? You still hang out with Shafe?” Flynn looked completely confused. “Regularly. I’m his best man.” “I haven’t seen Shafe since…” I interrupted him, “Since you dumped me and ran away to New York. Yeah. By the by, Shafe thinks you’re an asshole now.” Flynn shrugged. “He thought I was an asshole then. I am an asshole. A lovable asshole.” “I doubt he’d say ‘lovable.’” “Oh, and for the record, Vaughn. You dumped me.” He tapped my exposed, hairy chest with his thick index finger. “Is that what you’ve been telling yourself?” “You wouldn’t come to New York with me. That was dumping me.” “Okay, did you just come here to piss everyone off?” “Sorry. Let me try again. I get a little edgy when I remember the day we broke up. It was the worst day of my life. I’ve had two bad marriages trying to get over you.” “Your divorces are my fault now?” That was the height of absurdity. “That’s not what I meant. They’re my fault. The first guy I married was exactly like me. Thought he’d help me get ahead in business. I was still heartbroken over you. Tried to marry with my head. Not my heart. We weren’t a good fit. Divorced amicably. Husband #2 was a dumb, hung trophy husband. I only married him because he looked like you. Well, a pliable version of you. With a bigger cock. He left me after five years. The fucking bastard. Took me to the cleaners. Still paying alimony.” “You’re still a multi-millionaire.” “I should have stayed with you for one last year at Crocker.” “I agree. I’m glad to hear it.” After a few seconds of silence, I added, “Is that why you came here? To tell me you regret breaking up with me?” “You broke up with me.” Flynn shook his head, stopping himself from bickering with me. “I came to check Jason out. Make sure he was worthy of you.” “Overly protective for a man I haven’t seen in forever.” “I want you happy.” “I’m happy.” “Good. ‘Cause Jason’s perfect for you. I did my research before I came. I’d show you everything my detectives dug up. But I know you wouldn’t read it. You’d throw it in the trash unread. Everything in it would make you love him more. Promise. Then, I snooped around here. The photographs sealed it. He loves you. He loves you so much. You can see it in the photos.” “I know he loves me.” “I should confess. I had another reason for coming.” He took off his coat, draping it on the couch. I could see for the first time just how jacked he was. He was huge. “I’ve spent every day since my last divorce getting big. And a lot of money. For you.” “Seriously? Seriously Flynn?” “You’re looking at 280 pounds of Trevor Flynn.” He flexed his biceps, and they stretched the sleeves of his long-sleeve silk shirt, taunting them. His pecs swept out beautifully, impressively, distorting the line of the buttons. His legs were crammed into his expensive, tailored pants. Then, he continued. “If Jason wasn’t perfect. And I mean perfect. If you weren’t happy. And I mean happy.” Flynn pulled a small box out of his coat pocket. “I was going to propose to you like I should have fifteen years ago.” “Oh my god,” I said, suppressing a chuckle. “Get out now.” “That’s what I thought.” He sighed. “But I’m still glad I came. Think I can finally move on. Knowing you’re happy.” “Go, Flynn.” He moved to leave, but as he reached the study door, he turned to me and said, “Marry him, Vaughn. He’s the ideal man for you.” “Out,” I said. “One last thing before I go,” he said. “What?” “You can borrow 30 pounds.” As he walked out the door, he added, “Consider it a wedding present.” Present? Did he call them a present? I felt myself swell 30 pounds larger, my chest prouder and thicker, my arms sturdier and denser, my legs wider and brawnier, my ass heavier and beefier. In a flash, I was 330 pounds. Permanently. That means 330 was my new baseline normal. Confused at the upshot but happy the confrontation was over, I jogged upstairs and found Jason in bed. He was mindlessly scrolling through the messages that Lacey had forwarded to him. Without lifting his head, Jason asked, “You kicked him out, right?” “As soon as I could.” Jason smiled, his eyes still glued to the screen. “That’s my Miles.” “Any good messages?” I asked, hoping to get his attention. “My parents congratulated me on the engagement. Your parents congratulated me on the engagement. My co-stars from the show congratulated me. The show runner congratulated me. I’m pretty sure this last one’s from Disney. Not the person running Disney. Not even the reanimated corpse of Walt Disney. I think the studio itself gained sentience and texted me congratulations.” “With the night I’m having, that doesn’t surprise me.” Jason kept scrolling. Hoping to goad him into looking at me, I said, “Before he left, Flynn insisted on telling me why he came.” “Let me guess,” Jason said, still not looking up from his screen. “Flynn’s happily married with two kids and is so excited for us to get married that he wants to pay for the whole ceremony, and that’s why he broke into our house.” “Wrong on all fronts. He’s twice divorced, one of them bitterly. He wanted to see if you met his standards.” Jason kept scrolling, but he grunted again. “You more than met his standards, if you care.” “Not in the least.” I kept expecting Jason to notice my extra mass, but he didn’t. He was too absorbed in his phone. I didn’t want to play dirty, but I knew what would get his attention. “And if you didn’t meet his standards, he was going to propose to me.” Jason dropped his phone to glower at me. Then, he did a double take. If he hadn’t already dropped his phone, he would have dropped it again. “Are you bigger?” “He gave me 30 pounds as a wedding present.” I took off my shirt and pants, strutting around in my underwear for Jason’s benefit, showing off my new permanent 330 pound mass. I was quite flexible at this size, spending a lot of my days at 370. But 330 is significantly larger than 300, and the sinews, bulges, and thickness showed. “A present? He called it a present? That means…” I flexed my pecs and then my thighs, showing Jason how mighty I was. “With your standard deposit, I will now be vacillating between 330 and 400, yes. Can’t get smaller than 330 if I tried.” “Well, if he insisted on giving a wedding present, this beats a blender,” Jason said. “I, frankly, love this. How about you?” “Suits me fine,” I said, getting into bed with him. “Life’s not that different at 400 than it is at 370.” Jason reached up and started caressing my pec, initiating a rousing night of sex, but then his phone chimed five times in rapid succession, indicating five new text messages. His hand fell from my chest, and I could tell from the look on Jason’s face that he really wanted to check his phone, so I handed it to him. “The charm offensive didn’t work?” I asked. “Doesn’t look like it,” he said, quickly reading the texts. “Two of those were from Margaret.” “Our choices, then, are ride this wave for as long as it takes for this story to die, or get married to kill it faster.” “Those would be our choices,” Jason agreed. “Food for thought for tomorrow,” I said, turning off Jason’s phone and putting his hand back on my pec. “Tonight, though, let’s not worry about it.”
    31 points
  11. Part Two I was squeezing one of Max’s hefty balls with as much strength as my weakened, post-ejaculation body could offer, as we both looked down at the transfer papers in my other hand. He didn’t let out even a whimper when I clamped down on the steel-like mass with a vice-like grip. A low appreciative rumble escaped his mouth, though – making him sound like a giant lion purring with contentment. Even the dude’s low-hanging sack seemed insanely indestructible. “How can your balls take all this abuse, man?” I asked, amazed that he was actually encouraging me to squeeze harder. “I don’t know, dude. It could be the protein. It could be my cum has just become thicker and stronger. Or it could be that I tie the big things up with one hundred pound weights when I do squats,” Max replied, laughing. “Fuck . . . really?” I asked, imagining this heavy dumbbell chained to his big balls. “Naw, I’m kidding with you, man. I should try it someday, though. I guess my body’s just getting more powerful all over - the more I lift and the bigger I get. It seems like growing makes me produce more testosterone, which only makes me want to grow more . . . you know. It’s a never ending cycle. I grow, then I flex, then I want to grow more. I can feel your hand trying to squish my nuts, but it doesn’t hurt . . . it just feels erotic and nice. I can feel the juice building up inside those things, again – making me horny as hell,” the big man said. I moved my hand back and forth between his two large gonads – clamping down hard on the things. Max’s long, thick dick had already shot fully hard, again, and poked up along his chiseled abs. It looked like a torpedo ready to wreck major damage to something. His big body clearly needed less time to rest after major ejaculations than other men. Muscles obviously equaled much more cum. Max turned his head to me with a smile that told me he was definitely enjoying my massage of his sack, but there was something else, too. He clearly had a fun secret to share. “I may be big as hell, now, dude, but I’m still flexible enough to bend my body in two and suck myself off. Care to see?” Max asked, causing my head to suddenly become dizzy with excitement. My face turning into a gigantic smile and my head bouncing vigorously up and down was all the encouragement he needed. He slid down on the sofa, slightly, and then bent at the waist. He folded up like a deckchair or something – his hard abs tightening even more from the strain. I couldn’t believe someone with muscles as big as him could bend like that. He then reached down to lift his cock off his stomach and brought his own mouth down around the head. His lips slipped slowly down the shaft as he opened his own throat to accept the long, thick piece of meat. It was one of the most erotic things I’d ever seen – his neck becoming even more dense as he bobbed his head up and down on himself. I reached over, placing my hand at the back of his head, and then I pressed down – forcing him to accept more of his own cock deeply into his throat. Well, he allowed me to force him – even his neck was strong enough to beat my arm in a strength test. When his nose hit his own pubes, I almost came on the spot. “That is so fucking hot, man,” I whispered as I pushed his face into the thick fur even more. “Suck harder.” His neck contracted as his mighty lungs inhaled and his entire body became streaked with veins from being tensed beyond belief. I immediately understood that Max – a guy that never talked about sex when we were in high school – was about to fucking drain his own cock with the kind of suction that would make a lesser man’s eyes roll back into his head. The tight balls I had been fondling mercilessly earlier were now a deep purple and clearly ready to force the kind of explosion that could easily leave stains on the headboard and wall above his head – if he hadn’t been a living muscled contortionist giving himself a major blowjob. I was jealous of how easily Max could take his entire giant cock down his throat. I now saw that my own oral skills were definitely lacking compared to what he could do. In true muscleboy fashion, Max flexed both of his guns right before his thick sausage dumped another major cum load into his own body. I immediately guessed that swallowing his own spunk definitely helped him grow big faster than he normally would. His body was giving itself what it needed. My cum had been a good fuel, but his own thick, hot man-juice must produce even harder, larger muscles. That thought brought me even closer to my own eruption. Max didn’t miss a drop – his throat opened majestically like a black hole and swallowed everything. I noticed that the dude’s body seemed jacked beyond its previous hugeness. He had obviously grown by sucking himself off. He unfolded his body and appeared energized – not tired or worn out in any way. “Your muscle worshipping juice mixed with my own powerful, manly milk, dude, is like food for the gods. I swear I can feel myself thickening, even as we sit here. I’m going to get so freaky big, man, that you’re going to be able lay on me like I was your muscle bed. Blowing myself turns me on so much, dude . . . mainly because I can suck myself exactly the way I like it – slow, hard, and with enough power to make my toes curl. My balls feel like shriveled up raisins right now, but they’ll be full, again, in only a few minutes, dude. That’s just the way this new body of mine works. I’m a cum-producing factory that’s open twenty-four-seven,” Max said, leaning back on the sofa looking happier than a kid in a candy store – every muscle on his body bulging hard. “I’m going to flex my arm, bro, and I want both of us to kiss it at the same time. Climb over that freaky big thigh of mine and snuggle down between my legs. It’s time for both of us to appreciate a big biceps.” I moved like a chipmunk scurrying over a big log, wedging myself into his crotch so my torso rested against his hard body. He raised his arm slowly – watching my face as the big mound hardened and bulged higher. I brought my head near his, our cheeks almost touching. Max brought his flexed biceps to both of our waiting mouths. We both smacked our lips against his stone-like flesh and, simultaneously, let out slight moans of pleasure. I moved from kissing to licking, and Max did the same – our tongues lapping at each other even as they took in the big arm. Max’s other arm wrapped around my body and squeezed me tightly. It was like I was wrapped in a blanket of muscle. “Did you ever think muscle would taste so good, bro? I certainly didn’t. Watching myself flex is like the best foreplay for me, dude. I like watching my body as I tense it – making everything get big and hard . . . just like my cock. I bet you would bust out a major load watching me flex, wouldn’t you?” Max asked – in between kisses against his tight skin. “Fuck yeah,” I replied – lost in my admiration of his arm. “Time to show you more of how strong I’ve become, dude. I want you to feel my power,” Max said, dropping his arm and then placing his hand on my shoulder and pushing my body down between his mammoth thighs. Massive walls of muscle surrounded my mid-section and Max began to squeeze his legs together. Air was forced out of my lungs as if I were a balloon that suddenly had a major leak. Instinctively – for self-preservation – I began to pound on his giant, striated quads with balled-up hands. It was like I was hitting concrete. Deep crevices and bulging muscles topped by freaky veins appeared everywhere as he tensed two mighty oaks. I could instantly tell he felt nothing from my full-throttled punches. My fists were nothing more than little gnats flying into him. Max chuckled at my feeble attempts to get him to stop compressing me like a child’s squeeze toy and he raised both of his arms into full-on biceps flexes to emphasize his dominance even more. His giant limbs started to press in even more and I was having trouble getting any air into my body. I continued to beat the shit out of his legs, but the only thing getting hurt were my fingers. Max’s enormous cock bounced up and down off of his abs, fully hard, as he squashed my middle like I was just a tube of toothpaste. He’d glance at his own arms and then back to me, flailing away at his mammoth legs. “Dude, it looks like your caught between a rock and an even harder place – like you were being crushed by two mountains. By the way, I’m barely feeling those punches, man. Squeezing the shit out of you is giving my big quads quite the workout. I bet when I’m done it’s going to feel like I’ve done a hundred squats or something. You’re turning a shade of purple, bro. Just give me a sign and I’ll stop squishing that body of yours. I just wanted to show you how much freaking power this body of mine has now. You feeling it, dude?” Max asked. “Fuck yeah! It’s incredible,” I replied hoarsely, since I could not get any air into my lungs. “I’ve got to cry ‘uncle,’ though, before you break something, Max.” There was an instant tightening of his brawny legs, just to let me know he wasn’t even using his full strength, and then the constriction ended. I gasped loudly a few times as I filled my lungs back up with air. My torso immediately ached from being squeezed with so much power, but it had been magnificent. I knew – first hand – that Max’s new muscles were not just for show. They had the strength to match their size. He dropped his arms, shaking out his now jacked biceps. I stared at them – completely entranced by how they bulged. I was still taking deep breaths – trying to make the dizziness caused by lack of air to go away. Max looked down at me, smiling. He clearly understood that I was in awe . . . both because of his muscles and his strength. “Just think of all the ways I’m going to make you cum, bro. I bet I could have made you squirt big time . . . if I had kept squeezing. And then, we could have kept going until you drifted off into la-la land, curled up on my big body. Trapping you between my legs – knowing you couldn’t get away even if you had wanted to – made my own juices bubble up like a thick boiling stew, dude. I could bust my nuts again, right now, if I wanted to – but I want to save it for later. I’m thinking I should let my huge body build up a super load specifically targeted for that hot ass of yours. Blasting down your tight chute is definitely going to make my body boom bigger . . . I just know it. Pounding you is going to be like a week’s worth of lifting. And I’m pretty sure my cum is going to make you grow, too, bro. Your body is going to freak out from the amount of testosterone and protein I’m going to dump into it. Fuck, I’m going to be so monstrous. I can envision it, already, like it’s a morphing porno I’m watching. You’re going to be constantly light-headed from that cock of yours shooting hard when you’re around me. This is going to be hot as hell,” Max said – as much to himself as to me. The big guy was cupping his hefty pecs underneath and squeezing the muscle, tightly. I could tell he loved both the feeling of his chest being abused, but also how hard and thick the meat felt in his hands. A large, thick bead of cum oozed from his dickhead and he scooped it up with two fingers, bringing the juice to my lips. I opened my mouth and he deposited his man-honey on my tongue, leaving his two fingers in my mouth so I could suck on them as I swallowed. I reached over and grabbed the rigid base of his long cock, squeezing with all my might, but realizing it was useless since there was absolutely no give to the hard thing. Max’s massive tool felt so foreign to me – it’s girth and length being something I never would have dreamed he would possess when he was younger. But, then again, I never thought he’d have arms with a circumference close to the size of my waist. Max pushed his fingers deeper into my throat, teasing me. I moved my hand up and down his thick shaft, trying desperately to equal the pleasure he was giving me. “Bro, that mouth of yours is so fucking hot,” Max said, moving his fingers in and out of my throat. “I think I should lift you a few times to say thanks.” I couldn’t respond with words, since my mouth was full, but I sent back an appreciative gurgle and my cock bobbed up and down with excitement. His more than man-sized hand reached down and grabbed my thigh – his fingers almost meeting around the skinny thing. He then turned my body sideways, kind of lifting the lower half off the ground. Pulling his fingers from my mouth, he spread his other big palm across my chest. Suddenly, my body was pushed up into the air and I gazed down at his massive chest and grinning face. My best friend’s huge, bulging arms lifted me above him with an ease that made me gasp out loud. “I got these fucking puppies enormous by benching a hell-of-a lot more weight than you, bro. Wait until you see me shoving heavy plates up and down – it’s going to blow your mind, dude. Guys at the gym stop what they’re doing just to watch my chest swell up fucking colossal when I lift. My tank-tops can’t contain all the massive meat and my thick nubs get exposed every time. Fucking hell, dude, it’s like I’m benching a toddler,” Max exclaimed, making me get even more excited by his words. “Soon, I’ll be able to lift you with one arm, man. Eight reps with your whole body, bro, and I still don’t feel anything. Lifting you – without any effort at all – is making my balls ache for another release, dude. I’m powering you up and down and it’s like you’re not even there. Look at you leaking some pre from my power display, too.” The next time Max pushed my body up and his arms were fully extended, he rearranged his hand – so his big thumb could pull my fully hard cock, so it was sticking straight down – instead of smack up against my stomach. He also moved his arms a little to the left, so when he brought me down his open mouth could be ready to accept my jutting meat. My shaft slid straight down his waiting throat and he sucked hard, then he opened wide and pushed me back up into the air. Muscleboy’s arms had no problem cranking out more reps with my body and his throat was warm and ready for my throbbing dick every time he lowered my crotch to his face. “Blowing you while I lift you, bro, is hot as hell. A physical and sexual workout at the same time. Your body trembles hard every time I suck on that loaded weapon, dude. You’re about as primed as a lit stick of dynamite. I can’t wait until you’re flopping around in my strong hands as you unload that hot juice of yours. I’m ready for my man-shake, dude,” Max said, lifting with perfect form and sucking with perfect form, too. As my body began to realize that the pleasure Max was giving was soon to be too much for me to handle, my eyes rolled back into my head and I entered a dream-like state – clearly a calm before the storm of eruption. I contemplated how my life would be different from this moment onward. Being lifted daily by the big strong arms of my best friend, just so he could show off his size and power, was definitely going to mean I’d live with a perpetual hard-on. And to watch him grow – his muscles getting thicker, bulges becoming more dense, and his body simply taking up much more room – was going to be like living in a continuous muscle porn film. I forced myself to focus on the way his huge arms lifted me so easily – so perfectly. I then focused on the feeling of his open throat swallowing my entire dick in one powerful suck and then the intense pressure his mouth could produce by inhaling. I knew my balls would be emptied many times each day – a growing muscleboy just needs his protein. I also knew I couldn’t have stopped the big man – even if I wanted to. He instinctively sensed how much I wanted to give myself to him. He claimed me. He would be my protector and my lover. Max lowered my body one last time, my cock sliding down his deep throat. He sealed his lips around the throbbing base of my meat and sucked with power that can only come from someone as jacked as him. My body did, indeed, start flopping around in his strong grip as I saw stars and my cock emptied furiously like when the plug in a bathtub is pulled from the drain. Once I was totally spent – and almost passed out – Max started to press my body up and down, again. Clearly he wanted to get in some more reps – to make his body grow more. I just went along for the ride, loving every second.
    30 points
  12. Hey guys! Here is part 2 of what I think will be 3 or 4 parts total! As you will find out in the first line, Part 1 actually occurred in the son's head (stay with me lol!) - but I did that intentionally because when I wrote this I wanted it to be a bit more "realistic." We've all seen a hot guy at the gym or out-and-about that we day dreamed about later on, only wishing we could feel his flexed muscles. It can suck to see a hot guy and fantasize only to come back to reality. Part 2 though, is when that fantasy becomes a reality. What if we actually had the courage to compliment that guy's muscles or ask to see him flex? Better yet, what if the bodybuilder, wanted to? What if the 50 year old muscle daddy we've all jacked off to actually wanted to flex for us and got off on it?? Part 2 is a bit of a slow burn but, as you'll see by the end, Part 3 is going to get VERY hot for the son. Enjoy About My Dad . . . Pt. 2 “Are you okay?” He suddenly asked very concerned, almost like the tone he had used earlier. “What?” I squinting an eye confused at his rapid shift in composure and tone. “Are you okay? I asked you and you just kind of starred off for a second.” He said smiling at me, in front of me having just walked in from work. He was fully clothed. Sometimes he would come in and strip down to his boxers, but not today apparently. I blinked a few times as a sudden wave of disorientation came over me. With this came a wave of self-awareness. I was red, my heart was pounding, and my breathing was heavier since he had walked in. Damn. All of that, just from him walking in the house from work? I needed to get a grip to say the least. “Yeah of course, sorry I didn’t hear you the first time, I just woke up from a nap a few minutes ago so I’m still really groggy, you know how it goes!” I said trying to playoff my embarrassing daydreams as best I could. And that’s all it was. A daydream, a fantasy, whatever you want to call it. Now, to be clear, my dad’s body was not a fantasy. I could still see the outlines of his tick pecs and arms through his shirt. I could even see some of his veins in his biceps actually. But everything past him walking in had been nothing more than some weird scenario my brain had made up. That is not to say it was entirely fictional though. Those things, the things that I confessed to him, the embarrassing, pressing things that I wanted to say were all true. I did admire his new physique. But how on earth could I ever tell him that? Sure it played out well in my fantasy, but in real life, how could it? “Well how about, you get yourself oriented,” he looked at me again with a half-smile in half pity, “and I’ll go change. Are you hungry?” He asked turning away. “Actually yeah I’m starving.” “Okay I should have dinner ready pretty soon actually, it’s nothing fancy, but it won’t take long!” He assured as he walked back into his room. Once he was out of sight I stood and immediately headed for my room, on the opposite side of the living room area. A strong head rush overtook me and I started to lose my balance as my vision darkened. Slowly the world returned to how it should be and I went into my room. Despite the shortness of my daydream, it had put more blood in other places faster than I thought it would. I leaned on my bed for a second and put my head down to catch my increasingly short breath. “Okay get ahold of yourself. Yes, you want to say that, but you can’t.” I tried to assure myself. As much as I wanted to deny it though, this wasn’t the first time I had thought about a situation like that. My dad really had bulked up over the past 2 years, and he had begun to show off his gains far more than he used to. 3 years ago my dad was a bit nervous to wear shorts out of the house, and would only ever wear t-shirts and shorts in doors. Now, fast forward to present day, and he casually walks around in his boxers. Honestly, I’d say he’s half-naked more than he is clothed whenever he’s home at this point. So not only had my dad gotten a ripped body, he was obviously okay showing it off. Making matters worse though, I’m not sure he realized just how confused it made me feel. He casually walks around in tight briefs flashing . . . well . . . all of his muscles and his manly body. I try not to look too often, but it had become more and more difficult not to. He had grown so much in the past few months and he didn’t really show any intention of stopping or slowing down. He was as hooked on getting in shape as I was hung up on his progress. I kept going back and forth in my head for a few minutes, trying to throw reason into the bizzar cocktail my brain had stirred up. Eventually I decided I should probably just lay down for a few minutes, you know actually take that nap I had mentioned before, and see how I felt after I meditated and rested for a few minutes. As I sat in my bed I couldn’t help my mind from going back to all of the thoughts I had just had, and how . . . intoxicating they were. I wasn’t quite sure how to reconcile or reason them, but after a few moments, growing upset with myself, I decided to clear my mind. I didn’t want to think about it anymore. It took a few minutes but before I could even realize it my mind started to wonder off to other random thoughts as I dozed off. I knew a decent amount of time had passed, but I wasn’t sure how much exactly. I knew my dad was cooking in the kitchen, but I wasn’t mentally keeping track of the noises I heard. My half asleep rest was suddenly broken when I heard, “Yo, dinner’s up if you want to eat!” My eyes slowly opened, and for a brief second I just sat up in bed and didn’t really think about anything. I sat still momentarily getting my bearings and checking the time. Only 25 minutes had passed, but it was restful. Just as I swung my leg out, it was like a switch hit, and my brain was right back to wear it had been before I had fallen asleep. What was I going to do? It was such a simple question with a myriad of potential answers. A thought flew through my mind, somewhat unexpectedly. “What if I just told him like I did in my head?” What!? I couldn’t do that! No, there is no way . . . could I? No. I couldn’t tell my dad that. I got up and walked to the door and just as I reached for the door knob my mind started to tilt the other direction. What if I did though? I would feel so much better. Okay yeah, he probably wouldn’t brag about his tight briefs or flex in front of me, but what if I just told him the truth and was honest about it. At least in the first part of my fantasy, it worked out pretty well. I didn’t need to disclose more than I had to, but I could at least be more honest than I had been. I had wrestled with this for so long, even before today, that to suddenly have a clear and lucid solution come to my head, it felt odd. Was I being hasty? I had never felt this sense of confidence before, so why now? I walked to the kitchen continually weighing the different scenarios, but ultimately, as I approached the table I knew. I could at least . . . tell him part of it right? At nothing else I would feel better about it, and maybe I wouldn’t feel so awkward every time he walked around in just his underwear. I pulled out my chair and sat down just as he came to the table with a final dish. He put it onto the table and then sat down across from me. He had changed from his dress clothes into a cream/gray sweater and dark blue jeans. Honestly, I was a bit surprised. He didn’t usually wear that much clothing once he got home, but I guess today he was just feeling fashionable. Either way, his body was still too large to conceal. His sweater was filled out and I could see loose outlines of his shape and masculine build. “Did you fall asleep again?” He asked beaming his eyes at me. His face was striking honestly. His beard, his eyes, his jawline, everything. “No not quite, I just sat for a few minutes.” I said putting food onto my plate looking down. I really didn’t mean for there to be any subtext to that statement but apparently he found some. “I know I asked this earlier, but are you okay?” I looked up holding a spoon in my hand. Was this it? Was this the moment? My face flushed and butterflies flew through my stomach at the thought of actually being honest with my dad. “You’ve just seemed a bit off today, are you sure everything is okay?” He took a quick sip of his wine before placing it back down. Silence fell between us, clearly indicating there was some hesitation on my end. I thought I would slowly work my way into this topic, but . . . I guess there was just no waiting. I put the bowl and spoon down and looked up at my dad, whose expression was neutral, but tinged with a hint of concern. My palms began to sweat as I thought of how to phrase what I wanted to say. My throat knotted up and I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, part in eagerness and part in fear. I was an idiot for doing this, but my lips started to move and, almost as though a flood gate had opened, I couldn’t hold myself back any longer. After all of these months, I finally answered my father honestly. “Actually, um . . . there is something I wanted to talk to you about. . .” I began as I took a deep, hopefully discrete, breath in. Sitting across from me my dad looked so fashionable, large, confident, and mature. Was I really about to say this? For a brief second I hesitated and thought of what else I could say instead. Maybe school was getting tough, or I was having issues with a friend and needed his advice? As all of these different thoughts ran through my head I couldn’t help but feel a sense of avoidance. I had been avoiding talking to my dad about this for so long, I didn’t know how much longer I could bottle it all up. I needed to be honest. I rolled my lips, my mouth going dry, and I swallowed nervously. “Alright so this is going to be a bit . . . odd I guess, but I have been thinking about it for a while and I just want to say it.” My palms became tingly as more adrenalin hit me. “Hey, whatever it is, we can talk about it. If something is bothering you, you can tell me!” He sat up slightly. My mouth hung open for a few seconds as I tried to formulate the right words to use. Trying to let out some of the built-up energy I was pressing my right foot into my left foot hard enough that I should have felt discomfort, but I was too distracted. “Um . . . okay so, lately, over the past few months . . .” This was it. After all of these months, all of my fantasies of being honest, I was finally going to say it. An almost blind confidence came over me, somehow pushing me to blurt out a coherent thought. “You’ve really found a passion for working out over the past few years, but in the past months you’ve really started to well, um . . .” I gestured my hand looking for the right word. “Show progress.” I decided. My dad’s look went from one of concern and near sick to a calmer, albeit curious expression. His face fell into a frown of confusion for a moment before asking, “Well thank you.” He laughed or a second. “But, how does that relate to you?” He adjusted in his seat, sitting up straighter, his sweater bending against his body. I had already started the conversation and, even if I wasn’t fully honest, I had to at least say enough so that I could stop thinking about it. “Well, I don’t know a good way to say it, but basically, since you’ve started working out you’ve made a lot of progress, I mean awesome, but I have been feeling a bit . . . confused lately I guess. I think that’s the best word I know to use for it.” My legs were trembling so hard under the table I was surprised they weren’t making more noise. My shoulders began to tremble as well. I knew what I was trying to say but I could tell I was making as much sense to him as I was to myself. “Oh, well confused how?” He didn’t seem at all put off, but instead curious. So far so good. “You know, okay, let me put it this way. I’m not saying any of this in a bad way, if anything I think the transformation you’ve made is great! But that’s kind of why I am confused. A year and a half ago you would work out and come home, nothing overly noteworthy. But then a few months ago you started to . . .” I almost choked on my words. “Show a bit more. I mean it’s hard to hide I guess. But lately I’ve been feeling a bit conflicted. I’m in college apparently at the peak of my athletic skills, and at 53 you’ve managed to get really, really, fit.” I was about to pause but he nodded his head for me to continue and finish my thought. “So, I guess I’m just confused because at 53 you have gotten really, well, muscular.” My heart sped up at the compliment. “And on the one hand, it’s kind of weird because you know usually guys in their 20s are more athletic than their dads, but on the other hand I actually . . . admire the progress you’ve made.” My speech had started to noticeably speed up. I nodded my head as though to say, “That’s all.” “So yeah, that’s how I’m feeling I guess.” I allowed myself to catchy my breath as he looked down at his wine glass for a second, clearly pondering over what I had just said. Had I said too much? I thought I had sounded normal, and hopefully, somewhat restrained. “Okay so . . .” He started to rock his head back and forth as though a rather simple solution were in reach. “You feel confused, but I guess I’m a bit confused too.” He let out a small chuckle as he spun his wine glass in his hand. “Did I make you uncomfortable somehow?” “No.” I responded a bit too quickly. “No, sorry I’m not being clear, it’s just, I admire what you’ve been able to do but at the same time . . .” “Oh.” He said as though having an embarrassing realization. He blushed slightly. “Do . . .” he hesitated on the next few words he was going to say. “Does it bother you?” He asked almost bashfully. I needed to use the right words, but I was afraid to. How could I be fully honest with my dad about something like this? I had always been incredibly honest with my dad but this was going into new territory I wasn’t sure about. We’re both men. Could I really tell him that he made me feel like less of a man? “I guess I just don’t fully understand what you are saying, but I get at least, that somehow, I’ve done something.” He leaned forward a bit, placing his arms into his lap, flaring out his triceps causing his sweater sleeves to expand under their flexed mass. I paused for a second. We were already into the conversation so it was too late now. I had started it, I might as well keep going, even if his arms were already making me sweat, I knew I would feel better after. “That makes it sound bad. What I mean is . . .” I breathed in and tried to feel as calm as I could so I could say this clearly. “I feel like at 20 something, I should be more muscular and athletic, but I look at you at 53 and, dad, you have a 6-pack. Like you have the build I’m supposed to have at 20, well but you’re even more built than that really. So in a way I kind of feel . . . like . . .” I knew the exact word I wanted but settled for a compromise. “Lesser I guess. I look at what you have been able to accomplish and it’s awesome, truly. There is a part of me though, that feels weird about it. You’re 53, a doctor, and more athletic than I am. But then that’s where my confusion starts.” My thoughts and speech were started to slow and become clearer. “It’s actually kind of what I just said I suppose. You know looking at it objectively: you are 53, you are a doctor, and you still have abs somehow, that most dudes in college are trying to get. So yeah in ways it makes me feel kind of . . . insecure is a good word for it if I’m being honest, but then I also feel . . . I don’t know it’s cool. You are 53 and are more athletic than most guys I know who are less than half your age. It’s awesome you’ve been able to workout so much. You’re smart and . . .” I nearly choked, but managed to disguise it with a pause. “Pretty buff.” I said laughing nervously as I looked down. My clarity was starting to turn back into racing thoughts as I allowed myself to process the honesty I had just used. Holy shit. After months of feeling insecure and unsure of how to approach my dad, if I should at all, I had just told him how I felt. Not entirely, and not the full extent, but close enough. Closer than I had come up to this point. Still, in being so honest, I was afraid of how he would react. I had done my best to say it in a neutral way, but what if he read into it the wrong way? I didn’t want him to feel bad. “Well,” He finally spoke looking down at his hands and then back up at me, his worry had seemed to alleviate somewhat. “First, thank you’re for the compliments, I’ve worked hard so good to know it’s paying off. More importantly though, I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that way, I . . .” He shook his head looking for the right words. “I guess maybe I shouldn’t just walk around here in my boxers, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” “That’s the thing though, and I what I am trying to say. Yes, I feel insecure when I see how big you’ve gotten, but at the same time I like it.” “Like it?” He asked quizzically. “Like how?” He asked tilting his head, seemingly in genuine curiosity. Maybe I was going to have to be more honest than I was already comfortable with. To be clear, it was not lost on me that my honesty up to this point had largely been unintelligible rambling. “Well okay, you’ve been wearing more tanks lately. At first when I see how large your arms have gotten that’s when I think, gee I’m 20 and don’t look anything like that. My dad is 53 and has way better arms than I do. But then I think, damn, he’s a doctor and looks that good even over 50. So it’s not that I mind you showing your results, I’m just saying it is a bit confusing that I have both of these feelings at the same time. But between the two, I’d say the admiration is stronger. I’m not asking you to change anything or do anything differently . . .” I took a controlled breath in, perhaps the first I had taken in this entire conversation. I paused and allowed my mind to catch up. Despite my nerves and rapid heartbeat, I was somehow calm and articulate. I didn’t really know where this was coming from, but I sure as hell was not going to question it. “I just have been feeling a bit self-concious about it lately, so I just wanted to be honest.” I nodded my head at him, indicating, in a nutshell, that’s how I felt. “As I said, if it makes you uncomfortable I feel bad about that . . . but, I almost get the idea it’s not discomfort per se. You said you might feel a bit insecure, but, at the same time it doesn’t bother you I wear say tank top or . . . I guess if I don’t wear a shirt. Does it bother you if I don’t wear a shirt?” He asked to clarify. “No, I mean if you want to walk around without one, go for it. Like I said, I just get a little self-concious that . . .” I trailed off afraid to finish my sentence. “That . . .” he pressed slightly. “That . . .” I blinked, finally letting go of my restraint. He wanted an answer, and we had already come too far. “I actually don’t mind when you do. Does that make any sense?” “Okay!” He said as though finally solving a puzzle, which given how I was talking it was a bit of one. His face lit up and his overall mood seemed to switch from quizzical and unsure, to confident and almost, happy? “I think I understand you now.” He let out another laugh, and sat back in his chair crossing his legs under the table. “You do?” I asked a bit unsure of if he really did or not. “Yeah, I think I do, and listen it’s okay.” He reassured me as he brought his eyes back up to me. “I think I can piece together what you are saying. You are a bit insecure now that I’ve started working out more, but there is a part of you that doesn’t mind it.” He said reiterating what I had said before. “So . . . can I ask you a direct question?” He asked looking at me with a more neutral expression, but his overall tone hadn’t seemed to have shifted. I was a bit hesitant to respond in my head, but out loud I responded, “Sure.” “You said you are insecure about me being, well a bit more athletic lately, but you also said you don’t mind it. So do you not mind when I walk around with, say, a tank or without a shirt all together?” He crossed his arms over and put them on the table as he leaned on his elbows. “Yeah I mean, that’s kind of what I was saying before. I think it’s cool.” “So you are okay feeling a little insecure, that doesn’t bother you?” “No, it’s okay like I said the other side of it outweighs that.” I said starting to blush at his pressing questions. “You used the word admiration before. So when I get home and just change into my boxers, you . . . well I’ll ask, you like how I look?” He asked directly. I paused, a bit taken aback by his sudden directness. “Um, well, I . . .” I stammered. “Let me try it this way. You say you feel insecure when you see my body since I started working out, but if you also admire my progress, that must mean you don’t mind how I look either.” He said trying to direct my words. Sensing hesitation from me and let out a small laugh and then looked back up at me. “Like I said it’s okay . . .” he prefaced. “You like how my body looks since I started working out right?” He said looking at me following his blunt statement. “I didn’t say that exactly, I just said . . .” “Dude, it’s okay, you can be honest, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about it.” He said calmly and casually. “Well I just meant that, you’ve put in a lot of work and it’s inspiring.” I said trying to suddenly back track out of the conversation that I had started. We were starting to float into the zone I was trying to avoid. I wanted to be honest, but only to a certain degree. “Listen, it’s okay to admire my progress, you don’t need to be shy about it.” Even though he said this as normally as he would have said anything else, I couldn’t help but notice the cockiness of his words that he said so nonchalantly. My dad had become secure enough in his muscular body he could be cocky and not really think anything of it. In his mind, of course I would admire his work, why wouldn’t why? That only added to my level of fascination. He was hot, and he knew it. “I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” I said highlighting the irony of using his own words on him. “You’ve worked really hard to get to where you are, and I just feel bad . . .” “Why though? Like I’ve said I really don’t mind.” “Okay.” I interjected a bit hastily, somewhat embarrassed that he had managed to get this out of me. It was more than I had been ready to admit. Still, I couldn’t deny, it felt good to finally get this out in the open. If I hadn’t been fully honest I just would have bottled more of this up and the process would have repeated. This was better. I was finally able to be honest with him. But I need to make sure we were on the same picture, and I wasn’t just taking his words to confirm my own thoughts. “I guess just to clarify, you don’t mind what?” Realizing I cut him off, I spoke a bit softer. “You admiring my new physique.” He said point-blank almost as though this had been clearly established. “It won’t make me uncomfortable, and . . .” He rolled his lips deciding if he should continue or not. I looked up unsure of what to say, why would he hesitate all of a sudden? For as nervous as I had been, that is how cool he had been up to this point. He nodded his head, having found the right way to phrase it, and gestured his hands from side to side as though telling me something awkward but something that needed to be said all the same. “It hasn’t made me uncomfortable up to this point.” My eyes widened almost by instinct. My mind went blank. For a second I just sat in my chair entirely unsure of what to say or do. Had . . . had my dad caught me before? “You . . .” I started, elongating the vowel unable to put more words in front of it. My dad started to laugh again, like someone had told a funny, but satisfying ending to a long story. “Alright, I’m trying to be sensitive given what you’ve said, but I’m just going to be honest. If you want to check out my progress sometimes that’s okay. Your old man has some big guns, it’s okay to look.” As he said this he brought his arm just barely off of the table and flexed his right arm. Even under his sweater I could still see his arm expand with power and muscle as he flexed it. Even in a large sweater my dad’s muscles still looked like they were going to come through the seams. “And that doesn’t bother you at all?” I asked in genuine amazement, given that he was essentially telling me something I had thought was taboo for so long was . . . apparently completely understandable. “No! Honestly, I wish you had told me sooner that you were feeling so insecure about this. You don’t have to feel bad about checking out my body. Hell I flex in front of the mirror every night, I get it.” He said leaning back in his chair. My dad was not a “bro” per se, but the tone he had just used was one of the most bro-like things I think I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. Again, he wasn’t outwardly cocky necessarily, but he had adopted a new casual cockiness that was so . . . exhilarating. Now granted I had never seen nor have I seen my dad flex in the mirror, but I’m pretty sure a few years ago he wouldn’t have done it. Especially not every night if he did. Still following this statement I was almost a bit unsure of how to respond. I had been afraid to mention me checking him out, but he brought it up so easily and apparently didn’t have the first problem with it. Luckily after a moment, he broke the silence and I didn’t have to say anything. “So yeah if that’s all that’s bothering you don’t worry about it. Besides, like I said, I’ve caught you checking my arms when I stretch, it’s cool.” “I’m just glad it’s not a problem. I still feel kind of bad, but I’m glad I finally got this off of my chest.” “Exactly, don’t sweat it.” He smiled as he took another sip of his wine. Suddenly a very bad thought went through my mind. One I couldn’t act on, but I wanted to. I had already started the conversation and my dad had already dismissed my apologies multiple times. My whole body felt liked folding in on itself as a rush of heat spread across my limbs. My brain was basically drowning in adrenalin at this point, and my better judgement was a bit cloudy. Still my palms got sweaty again and I could feel my chest get tighter as I considered taking a gamble. A big one. Maybe I didn’t have to confess everything to him . . . maybe I could ask. Just as he put his glass back down and swallowed his wine I tried to appear as calm as I could as I asked: “So to that end actually, you said it’s not a big deal.” What the hell was I about to do?! I knew somewhere deep in my mind this was a bad idea, but I couldn’t help it. I had to at least try. “This might be kind of awkward, and I totally get if you think it’s weird,” he narrowed his eyes slightly and tilted his head. “but . . . you know I really do admire all of the work you’ve put in to getting so in-shape, I guess I’m . . .” At this point my brain was on autopilot, it was almost surreal. My urges were overpowering my logical thoughts, but I still couldn’t quite bring myself to ask the question I had been wanting to ask for months. Ever since I saw my father shirtless for the first time. A second passed and I brought my eyes back to his. He was being patient to say the least. “Ugh never mind, I’m just playing around.” I abruptly, and awkwardly, blurted out. I caved. How on earth was I ever going to ask my dad to flex? It was a stupid idea to say the least, and an even worse ending to my proposition that I didn’t finish. “Oh my gosh,” my dad laughed and leaned his head back a little with a smile. “You were going to ask something, you don’t need to be nervous. I’m serious whatever it is, I’d rather you say it so it won’t bother you anymore. Like a minute ago, you were worrying all this time about checking my physique out, and I couldn’t care less. So go ahead, if you have a concern or a question, say it.” He said in a supportive and caring tone. “You’ve really packed on more mass lately, and it’s pretty cool, so I was just wondering if . . .” I couldn’t bring myself to ask, but apparently I didn’t need to. He let out a small grunt and laugh, putting his head back and then looking back at me, relaxed and calmer than he had been a second ago. “Do you want to see me flex?” He asked, knowing he was taking the words right out of my mouth. My shoulders contracted and my throat seemed to get tight. He had gotten cockier since he started lifting and it was hard not be drawn to it. He was so confident, so strong. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as I crossed my arms over. “You know, you ugh . . . took the words right out of me. I know it’s a bit weird.” Ignoring my hesitation, he grimaced at me for a moment, dismissing my worries, before letting a coy smile come across his face. “I’ll flex.” He said with complete confidence and calmness. He then brought his right arm up and flexed his bicep. Even under his sweater, the large mass of muscle contracted and pushed up on the fabric. The sleeve rose and peaked along with his powerful, peaked bicep. My father’s biceps had to at least be 17 or 18 inches. They were so large, and even in his sweater I could clearly see the peak and the bottom of his triceps as they strained the fabric. He had only flexed his right bicep, but already I felt small and powerless in his presence. “See?” He asked as he raised his left arm and formed a full double bicep. Across the table, my father was flexing his large biceps, showing the span of his arms and his lats. He was a tall man, and had managed to build his long arms into masculine, powerful bands of muscle. Looking at his with a wide torso, and his raised, pumped arms, he looked so authoritative. He was only flexing, but I could feel just how much more of a man he was than me. All of this time, I had wanted to see him flex, I had fantasized about it. And now he was doing it as though it were nothing out of the ordinary. “I don’t think you believe me. If you want to check out my body,” he brought his eyes to mine and elongated his arms before contracting them again. “Or if you want to see me flex, I really don’t care.” “Damn.” I breathed out with a small laugh. “So you really are totally okay with all of this.” “Totally. I’ve worked hard to get a body like this so if anything I take it as a compliment.” “Well, you look . . . great!” I complimented. He lowered his imposing arms down to his side but he didn’t break his eyes from mine. “So is that really all you wanted to see?” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” I asked. “Well you’ve been holding that in all this time, and you just wanted to see me flex my arms?” “Oh, I was just curious like I said, I . . . yeah that . . .” “I can take my sweater off.” He offered casually as though offering me dessert. “You don’t need to do that.” I lied blushing. “Alright.” He lowered his head slightly and got a mischievous grin on his face. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but if you ask, it is getting a bit warm in here. But I know I’ve been getting a lot more vascular lately, and that might be kind of freaky.” He took a sip of his wine, not letting his eyes escape mine. “I don’t think they’re freaky.” I responded. “It’s pretty . . . you know, masculine I think.” “So just ask.” He laughed slightly as he slowly pulled the wine glass away from his mouth and nodded at me in confirmation. How was this happening? After all of these months of trying to steal looks, or turn my head away at just the right time, my dad was willing to show me his muscles? Was it really that easy? Is that all I had to do this entire time? My mind was overrun with thoughts I couldn’t process. Okay . . . after all these months I guess I was really about to ask what I had only dreamed of asking the man sitting across from me. “Dad, could you take off your sweater?” I asked nearly doubling over in my seat from the rush of energy and adrenalin. It felt so good to finally ask him. To finally be honest and admit how much I admired his body. “See! That wasn’t so hard!” He said rolling his eyes and smiling as he stood up from his chair and brought his hands down to his waistline before lifting the sweater off of his hulking frame. I guess I hadn’t really thought it over much, but I didn’t think of what my dad would be wearing under his sweater. I had assumed he was, well, not wearing anything. Somewhat to my dismay he had a black t-shirt on under it. He pulled the sweater off and suddenly his large, masculine, striated arms came into view. As he finished pulling his sweater off, he put it on the chair he was just sitting in. Looking at him now though, I have to admit, the shirt was not all bad. It only came halfway down between his shoulders and biceps. It emphasized the impressive size of his trained arms and hugged against his abs and chest as though it were glued to him. My dad had to have known it clung to his body. He was comfortable enough in his own skin to wear clothes that would show just how ripped he had gotten. A few years ago he would have never worn such a thing. Before I could process enough to say anything he extended his right arm out away from his waist and gripped his fist. His bicep and tricep became distinct muscles and formed cuts along his arm, leading to the many veins that covered his forearm. “Like I said, I’ve been getting a lot more vascular lately. I like having all of these veins. What do you think?” He said looking at his pumped forearm before turning towards me. It seemed like the first time I had been given permission to actually look at his body but some part of me was still hesitant to do so from the long habit I had established. All the same, I looked along his extended arm and took in all of the minute details of his chiseled arm. “I meant what I said,” I giggled in slight amazement. “They really make you seem . . . like . . . built you know?” I tried to repeat the word, “masculine,” but my mouth couldn’t quite get around the word. I was so taken aback that this was actually happening. I figured this wouldn’t last much longer though so I just tried to savor the moment. “Yeah I really like it. I’ve been getting more veins all over honestly.” He said somewhat distracted as he looked up and down both of his arms. He brought both arms down by his sides and turned his fists away from his torso so that his triceps flared out from the side of his already tight sleeves. The back and side of his forearms seemed to separate into multiple groups and bands of muscle, covered in the veins I had just admired. “I’ve been trying to add size lately, and I think it’s starting to show.” He brought his arms up for a double bicep pose as he looked along his right and left pumped arms. His arms formed a beautiful, hard peak. He brought his eyes back to me and smiled. As he rose his arms up his tight shirt strained against his torso and lifted above his belt. I could see a small amount of skin around his abs, but couldn’t really make anything out. Even if I had been able to I couldn’t take my eyes away from my father’s flexed arms. They were so large and full of power. To be clear, my dad’s biceps weren’t just sizeable. They looked like arms that belonged on a competitive bodybuilder. Well, I guess at this point, that is what my dad looked like in general. So dry, full, and cut, his arms were beautiful and manly. “Damn, you have really gotten bigger lately.” I affirmed. “Your arms are . . .” I stopped myself and rethought my word choice. “They’re great.” I said clearly hiding a word preference. “Dude, you don’t need to feel weird about it. You can complement your old man’s arms, that’s fine. I mean I’m flexing them right? I’m just showing off my hard work, you can admire it.” He said very smoothly and permissibly. “Okay.” I said with a nod, cracking a devious smile. The surreal feeling of the situation was starting to fade into a more intense reality sensation. This was happening and my father was completely fine with it. I could even compliment him if I wanted to. He slowly lowered his arms down and let them come downtown his side as his eyes fell in thought for a moment. “So, can I ask you a question actually?” He said squinting slightly, looking at his glass of wine. I was a bit nervous about what he was going to ask given the last 2 minutes of our conversation. I had already been more honest with him than I had intended to be. What else did he want to know? “Of course, I guess we are being kind of honest with one another at this point, right?” “Exactly, and so that’s why I’m just wondering . . . does it bother you that I’ve gotten so built up lately?” He looked back up at me with a look of genuine concern and curiosity. “Bother me?” I squinted in confusion. “I just wonder if seeing your dad . . . with such large muscles might be a lot for a guy in his 20s. You mentioned that you feel like you should be the one with the ripped body, and yet, it’s me. Does that bother you?” I thought for a moment of how to word my response. “Honestly?” I rolled my lips tightly, I knew I was about to be honest with him, on the one hand it was nerve wracking and on the other hand it felt so liberating. “No.” I said keeping my eyes locked on him, resisting the urge to let them study his arms propping his figure against the table. “I mean, kind of. When I look at you, I start to feel kind of insecure as a guy you know? You have a great body and at 53 you are walking around unafraid to show off all of your gains. Meanwhile I feel self-conscious when I take my shirt off in public or at home for that matter. Despite those feelings though, I look at you and how confident and manly you are. Most guys your age have given up on getting in shape, and instead, you have a body most 20 year olds would kill to have. It’s really strange honestly, but . . . like when we went to the beach a few weeks ago for spring break, and everyone was eyeing you as we walked around. It is almost . . . I don’t know what word to put to it exactly, I’m not even entirely sure what this feeling is. But it’s “cool”, I guess, to see people look at your body. And then I think about it, and for some reason, it doesn’t bother me. You are a doctor, a really smart one at that, and you can go to a beach and rip off your shirt and get all of that attention. You are stronger than me, bigger than me, and that should bother me in a bad way, but . . . I guess . . . I don’t mind.” I began my response with a shaky breath but managed, by the end of it, to have a pretty steady voice. I had been honest with my dad, and it felt like a weight being lifted off of my shoulders. “So, me being stronger, more muscular, that doesn’t bother you?” he asked looking for another confirmation. “No. I like that you are so strong. It’s . . . nice. I look at how big and ripped you are, and I can only imagine how strong you have to be at this point.” I rubbed my nose and sniffed for a second before looking back up at him. “I feel . . .” I paused unable to continue my thought. I wasn’t sure if I could say it. To my surprise though, my dad didn’t interject or ask me to finish my thought. I decided to compromise. “Like alright, right now, seeing you in that tight shirt, flexing your arms, you just look so . . . manly, and strong you know?” “So when I flex or wear tight clothes to show off a little, you are okay with it?” “So you do like to show off?” I asked with a sharp smile. For once I had asked him a question. He opened his mouth and let out a laugh for a second. “You know, after a long day at work, it’s kind of nice to come home and just . . . appreciate the work I’ve put in.” He said carefully. “Well in any case I don’t mind.” I said affirmatively, blushing as I said it. “Good.” He smiled at me pulling his arms away from the table. “I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. Regarding something else you said though, I guess on the flip side of what you said. You said you like how strong I am, and how ripped I’ve gotten?” He asked with a straight face, but in a light tone. “Yeah, you just . . . you look good.” “Honestly, I have to tell you, I feel good too.” He stood up straight, as his chest filled the front of his tight shirt. It looked like the fabric could barely contain his large pecs. “I have more energy now than I did in my 20s, I have more endurance throughout the day, I feel more alert. Just, overall, I feel fantastic since I started to workout more. And looking in the mirror at night has gotten a bit easier.” We both laughed, but my laugh was noticeably more nervous than his was. “Yeah you know, after two years of lifting and getting bigger . . . fuck I feel good for 53.” I confessed, oddly seeming like had gotten something off of his chest that he had wanted to say. Very ironic given the situation. “You should, I mean dad, I’m 21 and . . . you are so much stronger than I am.” I admitted allowing a small rush of heat to run through me. “You’re probably stronger than most of the guys at school honestly.” “Thanks.” He laughed and blushed slightly, for the first time seeming shy at one of my compliments. “To that end though . . .” I had already pushed the envelope numerous times and it seemed as though my dad was willing to go along with most of it. I wondered if I could push one more time. “This is kind of weird to ask but, you are clearly really . . . strong. I’ve wondered, what it would it be like to . . . well, arm-wrestle.” I proposed not able to look at him. A small silence fell over the table but after a moment my dad cracked a smile. “You want to arm-wrestle me?” He said in confusion, his tone highlighting his awareness of how much larger than me he was. “We both said, you have gotten really fit lately, I’m just curious how fit you’ve gotten. A more . . . measurable way to gauge it I guess.” “I’m down don’t get me wrong . . . but.” He relaxed his stance slightly, “no offense, but you won’t budge my arm.” “I just want to try.” I rebutted with a slight smile, and a surprisingly casual tone given how on-edge I felt. He paused for a moment and then walked around to my side of the table and pulled out the chair next to me. I put my elbow on the table and arched my hand towards him. My father’s large frame moved forward as he placed his monstrously large arm onto the table. Despite its size and mass, he placed it onto the table quietly and delicately. I was trying to conceal the joy I was feeling in that moment. My fantasies got cut short earlier, but a time or two I have wondered what it would be like to wrestle my dad. I knew he could pin me so easily with his powerful body, and somehow that feeling of emasculation was . . . exhilarating. I scooted myself forward slightly so that we could lock palms. Already his palm felt harder and firmer than mine. I knew what was about to happen. “Are you ready?” He asked trying to hide a cocky smile. “3, 2, 1, go!” With that both of our arms tensed as we applied as much force as we could against the other. That is to say, I applied as much as I could against him. My dad’s arm was barely budging. I squeezed against his palm and tried to force my forearms and biceps to move as much as they could, but my dad’s hand wouldn’t even budge. It was like trying to push against a brick wall. I grunted as I exerted more force. He let out a small chuckle as he avoided eye contact with me. In a way I almost felt awkward. I was arm-wrestling my dad and enjoying every second of it. I couldn’t budge him at all, and somehow that feeling of powerlessness was intoxicating. “Damn you’re strong!” I said trying one last time to budge him. I even lifted my body up slightly to give myself more leverage, but to no avail. Another second or two passed before my dad finally looked at me, his arm still firmly in place. “Dad a bit stronger than you had expected?” He said clearly savoring the moment, but trying not to be too forward about it. Before I could answer his grip tightened and my hand moved backwards until it was flat on the table. With almost no effort he had overpowered me. He released his hand and I pulled mine back. He had won so easily, and was even kind of cocky about it. I couldn’t believe an hour ago I was only thinking about these things, and now, I was living them out. I had taken a chance by asking him, but I had wanted to challenge him to an arm-wrestling match for so long. It is was so satisfying to be able to finally ask him, and feel just how powerful of a grip he had. He was right: he was stronger than I had expected. “You weren’t kidding!” I confessed as I pointed to his right arm. “You really have been hitting it lately.” “I warned you!” He said widening his eyes dramatically. “I have to say though, I’m glad that this doesn’t bother you. Me working out so much could be a bit off-putting I guess, or intimidating, but you really don’t seem to mind, which is a relief I guess. Still I wish you had talked to me sooner. You didn’t need to spend all of this time feeling self-conscious.” “I couldn’t agree more actually. It is a huge relief that . . . I guess that we can talk about it.” My mind started to trail for a minute. I had one last idea. “Exactly. You don’t need to feel bad any of it. It’s a change so I’m glad we are on the same page.” He sat back in the chair for a second while I pondered over my next question. “Well . . . that being the case.” My throat ran dry and my arms started to tremble. I was about to ask him something I had only ever thought about. Something I had wanted to ask willingly for months. My tongue felt like sand paper against the roof of my mouth and my teeth almost started to click from the built up nerves. “If . . .” I nearly choked on my words, but I was able to swallow without making too much of a wince. “If neither of us really care . . . would you mind . . . uhm.” I paused one final time before letting the words leave my lips. “Would you mind taking your shirt off?” The next half second of silence between us felt like an eternity. I had asked the question and there was no coming back from it. As soon as the last syllable left my mouth a certain sobriety seemed to hit me. What the hell was I doing?! I had asked him to take his sweater off already, and then I asked him to arm wrestle?! Suddenly I almost felt like I had come out of a dream and I was just now realizing where I was. In fact, this was the part where I should have snapped out of my day dream. But this was not a day dream like before. I had actually just asked my father to take his shirt off. It almost felt like my entire body had frozen over as I waited, only a half second, for his response. My dad turned his head slightly to the side and looked at me, clearly not expecting that question, but not put off by it either. “You want me to take my shirt off?” He asked more to confirm he had herd correctly, what else would he have heard, and that I wasn’t confused. “Ugh,” my mind was still coming terms with the sudden realization of what I had asked him and I couldn’t formulate my thoughts. His face seemed to lighten as he leaned forward slightly. “You just want to see my abs.” he said letting a smile come across his face. My lucidness hadn’t quite left me yet, so whereas before I had been playing into the moment, I was suddenly feeling a cold feet. I had already been able to see my dad flex his biceps and arm-wrestle him, there was part of me that wanted to back out now before I said anything else that might ruin this. Things were fine now, I should probably leave them. “I mean hey, if me having an 8-pack and a big chest doesn’t bother you . . .” He brought his hand to the bottom of his shirt just as he had his sweater and pulled up on the tight black t-shirt. Less than a second later he had already pulled it over his head and off of his now bare torso. He lowered his arms down and simply let the shirt fall onto the floor next to his chair. “. . . I’d rather have my shirt off anyway.” He finished with a tone of sincerity. He extended his arms so they were parallel with his legs and clenched his fists so that his arms, pecs, abs, and lats all flexed into hardened groups of striated muscles. My father’s bare torso suddenly seemed to swell up. His forearms and biceps expanded, causing his veins to become even more apparent than they had been before. His chest tightened into two large, rounded mounds, save for a dent that formed at the edge of each of his chest muscles. His nipples were hard and pointed, fitting for his hard and masculine looking pecs. His 8 pack was on full display, with the lines that separated his abs carving out each one. For as pumped and rounded as his chest was, that was how flat and cut his abs were. The amazing thing was, like I had explained before, my dad wasn’t just fit. He had the body of a full on bodybuilder. His entire body was covered in striated groups of hard muscles that grew as he flexed them. No wonder I had lost with such ease against him, he looked so dominant and powerful. He didn’t just look powerful though, he was. Watching him flex was even more mesmerizing than I had expected. He brought his eyes away from his tensed muscles and back to me, but I didn’t’ even stop looking, how could I? “You liking the gains?” He said in an exaggerated bro voice. “Damn, I honestly don’t think I’ve seen somebody that cut in real-life before.” I confessed taken in by his show of manliness. “Yeah your dad didn’t used to have abs like these did he?” He flattened his stomach and ran his hand over his shredded abs before lowering both hands down towards his belt. He started to bounce his large pecs. Now on some men this would just cause their chest to move slightly. But on my dad, his entire chest seemed to lift up and fall back into place. The entire muscle rippled as he bounced them in sequence. He sat up in the chair as he did, his pecs continued to flex and release, all the while his abs were still visible. Watching my dad bounce his pecs shirtless in front of me, seeing his tanned, sculpted body, I felt a striking, but wonderful, feeling of emasculation. I should be the one with the large muscles and cocky attitude, but instead it was him. My dad was hotter than I was without question. “Damn.” I muttered outload looking at his pecs move. “Oh sorry.” He leaned back in the chair and rose his arms so that his hands were on the back of his head. From there he flexed his arms, abs, and lats. Reclining back, my dad’s arms and torso flexed with testosterone pumped muscles. He lowered his head slightly, but never broke eye contact with me as he flexed his impressive arms. “You probably aren’t used to a man flexing his muscles like this are you?” “Honestly no.” I said with a shaky breath trying to control my breathing and racing heart. Even more than before my hesitation had become more apparent, and I could tell that he was thinking over something in his head. Through all of this, I have to admit, I was surprised at how calm my dad had been. “Tell you what,” He looked down at his socks, but his tone indicated that he had reached a conclusion. “You said this has been weighing on your mind for a while so I can imagine this has been a bit much for you.” He slowly stood up, allowing his body to flow out of the chair in a fluid motion that allowed his various muscle groups to flex and release. “One second we’re just eating dinner and the next, your dad is taking his shirt off to flex. To that end though, seriously don’t feel bad, if you want to check out my gains, go for it.” My eyes came to my dad’s belt and rested there for a moment. His jeans were tight against his built legs, but offered a stark contrast that only enhanced his masculine beauty. His legs and feet were covered, leaving a certain mystery to his body. In contrast, his torso was exposed, powerful, and undeniably strong. Somehow his casualness mixed with his bare chest emphasized his masculine authority. “I’m just happy that you are so, understanding, I guess is the word.” I admitted. “I suppose, but to be honest, I’ve seen you trying to sneak some glances so it’s not a total shock.” He said somewhat matter of factly lifting his eyebrows and scrunching his lips. “You’ve just really made a crazy transformation. It’s hard not to look sometimes. Even compared to the guys I see at our campus gym who are in college, you have a killer physique.” “Not to be conceited or anything, but it is nice sometimes knowing that you can outlift some of the younger guys. Guys in the gym are always surprised to find out how old I am, it’s a big compliment. Especially at my age, it’s a pretty great feeling to still have energy and confidence.” He blushed slightly and adjusted his weight. “I can imagine.” I widened my eyes and looked up at him. “You have to be insanely strong at this point. Your arms are the size of my legs.” I joked trying to slip a sly compliment. “Yeah I mean when I train I try not to just go for aesthetics. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy looking like this, but I also want to have the strength and utility that goes along with it.” “Trust me, I could tell when we arm-wrestled. It was like trying to move a brick wall.” “See! This isn’t all just for looks.” With that he flexed his right arm up making bicep swell up with definition and size. “It doesn’t look bad though.” I responded to his casual flexing. In that moment I couldn’t help but wonder. How strong had he gotten? How hard did his beautiful body feel? We seemed to be having a pretty open exchange, and my resolve had long been worn down. I was still too nervous to ask him what I had always wanted to, especially given how intimidating his body looked as he flexed. But he had already taken his shirt off and humiliated me in an arm-wrestling match, and seeing his half-naked muscular body was overwhelming my thoughts. I didn’t want to ask too much too quickly, which realistically we had long since passed. We passed that as soon as I asked my dad to take his sweater off. And yet, I wanted to feel just how powerful he was. How masculine had my now pumped father become? Seeing him look so manly was oddly intoxicating. I couldn’t resist how euphoric it felt to be submitted so easily. “I didn’t think you’d be so comfortable begin shirtless.” I confessed. “After a long day of working, and then working out before I come home, trust me, I’m ready to get rid of these clothes. So if you’d rather I walk around shirtless all the time, just get used to your old man with an 8-pack.” He paused for a second, looking to the side. “Along that line, not going to lie, I’d really rather not have these socks on all the time either.” My entire body trembled slightly, and my curiosity began to spike at the thought of what he might be alluding to. “Since I took my shirt off and arm-wrestled, I don’t suppose you’d mind paying me back with a foot massage?” The thought of being able to touch my dads feet gave me a feeling of excitement I almost struggled to hide. On top of his powerful, and muscular body, I couldn’t’ help but sometimes take a glance at his feet. “Yeah, I could do that.” I offered unable to restrain a small smirk. “Alright then.” He said with a hint of excitement, almost what one would hear if they had closed a business deal they had had to work towards getting. He moved his body, and extended his leg so that his right foot was now on my leg. His black sock was a stark contrast to his slate blue jeans. I nervously brought my hand to his foot and begin to apply pressure. I looked up slightly, and in my peripheral vision I could see my father’s bare torso, 8-pack, nipples, veins, biceps, and all. I dug my fingers into his dry socks. A faint aroma came across my nose. I continued to rub his right foot, working my way from his hard heel to his soft toes. I allowed my fingers to rub in between his toes against the fabric of his socks. “You said you wanted your socks off right?” I asked looking up for permission. “Yeah you can go ahead and take them off.” He permitted allowing his arms to fall to his side relaxing. I did as I was told and moved my hand up his leg to grasp the edge of the sock and I pulled it down his shaven leg and across his ankle before peeling it away from his foot. Part of the sock was a little damp against my skin. I dropped it onto the floor and continued to rub my fingers against his now bare foot. My dad’s bare foot contrasted even more against his jeans, and consequently against his exposed upper body, giving him a masculine appearance I couldn’t resist. I won’t lie, my dad shirtless and in jeans was one of the hottest things I had ever seen. I had seen him a time or two before, come out from his room in just his jeans and cook dinner. I could barely resist looking at his pecs and abs as he cooked, occasionally looking down at his exposed masculine feet. My dad shaved, likely to better see his muscles, but his feet still had hair on top, which I could feel as my fingers brushed against it. I never thought I would be giving a foot message to my shirtless father, but it was happening. I continued to rub his right foot for another minute or so before he raised up his left foot and had me repeat the process. The entire situation almost became too much for me. I was rubbing his soft, firm feet, taking glances at his body. I tried to be in the moment, and focus on the tips of my fingers as they dug against the soft part of his foot. He leaned his head back and seemed to immerse himself in the sensation of my hands rubbing against his feet. “You give one hell of a foot message.” He said with slight surprise. “If I had only known me being shirtless was the price for it.” He chuckled to himself. He opened his eyes slowly and thought for a moment before lowering his head back to look at me. I instinctively looked back down at his pants and then to my hands. I brought the entirety of his toes into my hand. “So, what do you think?” “About what exactly?” I asked applying more pressure, partially because I was nervous and didn’t know how to respond. “You know, this. At 52 your dad is a doctor and is shirtless with the body of a man your age. Do you feel okay?” He asked with the same concern he had shown earlier when I first brought all of this up. “I mean seeing you like this . . . just your bare feet and no shirt, it’s . . . pretty intimidating honestly. But cool. You look really,” I swallowed hard on just air, my mouth was too dry from my nerves. “manly.” “I kind of get the idea that you like that.” He said ironically laughing to himself. It seemed to break the tension a little and I couldn’t help but match his laugh. Even with just a simple laugh, I somehow felt better. It was almost as though he was acknowledging what I was too afraid to say. We were coming to a mutual understanding. “So what is it about my,” he looked for the right word for a moment, “masculinity that you like so much?” I asked in almost a base filled whisper. I paused rubbing his foot to reflect for a moment. I already knew the answer to his question, I had been asking and answering that same question for months. Ever since the first time he had taken his shirt of in front of me. I allowed my fingers to lightly caress down from his big toe to his heel as I spoke. “I guess . . . truthfully, it’s just cool to see an older guy have such a strong and youthful physique. On top of that you are a doctor, you are really fucking smart, and you still have the muscles of a professional athlete. It’s . . . exhilarating to see you like this. That said though, and to your point, it is intimidating. You are smarter than me and, I’m sitting here rubbing your feet knowing full well, you could totally overpower me with your body.” I laughed looking down as my finger reached the tip of his foot before putting my fingers back around his toes and stroking them. “Not that you would necessarily,” I began, allowing myself to be bolder than perhaps I should, “but if I had refused to rub your feet. And to be clear I wouldn’t because,” I put my fingers between his toes and squeezed them. “You have nice feet, you could have just . . . I don’t know . . .” “Overpowered you?” He said clearly. “Exactly.” I finally looked up and met his gaze. By now my body had released too many rushes of adrenalin, and I just felt in a constant state of heat and energy. But as I looked at his eyes, the energy seemed to become more focused. It wasn’t as wild and sporadic, it felt oddly calm. “I’m not going to tell you you’re wrong, after that arm-wrestling match, we both know,” my father struck a double bicep pose as I held his foot in my hands. “You might be younger, but daddy has the muscles.” Almost by reflex I audibly gulped as I saw his body become hard and striated. He lowered his defined and dry muscles down and looked back at me with a coy smile. “That does make me think though.” He folded his arms over. I don’t even need to explain to you how unbelievably attractive that was. I’m sure I already have. He adjusted himself slightly in the chair as I rubbed his foot slowly. “if you enjoy seeing me be so masculine . . . is this all you want? Or do you maybe want more?” He looked at me and suddenly this situation seemed much more communicative and official than it had a few moments ago. “More? As in . . .” My mind had already gone a thousand different directions, most of them to places I was too afraid to verbalize. “Well let’s start simple. I’m shirtless. Not to be too cocky, but . . . I’ve worked hard to get the results I have, I know I look good. So when I’m shirtless, sometimes I like to show off a bit.” I took a deep breath in. “So, I can put my shirt back on or . . . I could flex a little.” He sat up without breaking his gaze, lowering his foot from my hand. “I assume that would be okay with you?” “Of course.” I affirmed. He rubbed his hands together. “I don’t want to do too much though, are you sure that wouldn’t be too much?” He said lowering his voice. I starred at him for a moment, looking at my dad in just his feet, jeans, and naked torso. “No!” I calmly objected. “No . . . could you . . . flex your muscles?” I asked nervously. “Are you just afraid to say no because of my biceps?” He flashed a sultry smile. “You don’t have to be nervous . . . and besides, if watching your shirtless dad flex isn’t too much . . .” He stood up, causing his powerful body to tower over me. His pants were level with my face, and I couldn’t help but feel emasculated at the thought of what might be underneath. “We can still wrestle later.” I looked up at my dad, shirtless, barefoot, the most imposing I had ever seen him. All of the previous times I had seen him, even when he was just in his tight boxers, he was showing off his body but somewhat involuntarily. This time he knew I wanted to see more. I could almost feel his energy, his dominance. “So after all of this time, you finally have your dad shirtless in front of you. I still think it’s funny how you could have just asked me to take my shirt off and flex for you.” He held his vascular arms out to his side and flexed them in front of me while tensing his pecs and abs at the same time. My father’s entire torso was now flexed with vascular, masculine power. “And at least this time you don’t have to be afraid of looking.” He clarified calmly as he looked down at his arms, watching the veins erupt from his forearms and biceps. My father had the physique of a bodybuilder, there was no question given the size and definition of his arms. He changed his flex into a most muscular, flexing one arm at a time and putting them up to my face. He brought his left bicep to my face and flexed and unflexed it causing the large ball of muscle to drop and become firm in succession. It was mesmerizing to watch his arm shift. “Damn.” I breathed out. “Yeah that’s pretty awesome isn’t it?” He marveled at his own body. “Men half my age don’t have biceps this big.” He stood straight and then spun around on his foot to show his back to me. He put his left hand at a 180 angle with his body, putting his hand on his head, and then put his right arm at a 95 angle to flex his entire backside. Watching his back erupt with muscular definition made me feel the smallest I had ever felt in front of another man. So many muscles came into view my eyes didn’t even know where to begin admiring. Despite the sensory overload, I still processed how firm and full my dad’s jeans were. His ass was firm and filled the back of the jeans, leading down to his thick legs, and back down to his arched foot. I wanted to compliment him, but my mind had gone blank. My words seemed to be in a hazy scramble somewhere in the back of my mind. “I know you usually check my pecs and biceps, but you have to admit, my backs shredded.” He said turning his head across his arm. For the first time, since he had started lifting, I was starting to see a cockier side of my dad that I wasn’t used to. But it didn’t bother me. Despite my inability to form a coherent thought, I somehow managed to verbalize that last though, almost by instinct. “I don’t know that I’ve ever seen or heard you so confident.” I quickly added, “I like it though! It’s cool to see you so confident and . . . powerful.” He pulled his left arm over so that he was no striking a back double bicep. “Well, when men half your age use words like intimidating and powerful to describe you,” he dropped his arms down and turned back towards me, this time flexing his biceps. “I admit it’s a bit hard not to get an ego boost.” He let me look over his biceps before dropping them. He moved his weight back slightly, extending his left leg for support. “It’s interesting though. You seem a little bit conflicted.” “How’s that?” I asked raising an eyebrow at his remark. “You say that my body is powerful and intimidating, and yet you’ve been trying to sneak peaks at me for months. You know I could overpower you, you know how much stronger I am than you, and something about that just drives you crazy doesn’t it?” “It is conflicting I suppose. But like I’ve said, I like it. It’s a bit scary thinking that your dad has the body of a college bodybuilder, but . . . it’s nice. I like that you are the man of the house.” At the end of my last compliment my dad’s face seemed to light up. He thought for a moment before speaking. “Good. I’m glad you like it.” He bounced his large, hard pecs. “And all the better that we agree who the man is here. “When you bounce your chest like that trust me, it’s clear.” I sat up a bit in the chair. “So,” I swallowed with shocking control. “I am a bit curious . . . could you take your pants off?” My body mustered up enough energy to send heat back through my body for the first time in quite a while. I was being bold, but somehow I knew he wouldn’t mind. If anything, I figured we were already this far in, how much bolder could I really get. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?” My dad seemed to be an expert at asking these kinds of questions in such a caring manner despite probably wanting to take them off anyway. “Yeah. Whenever your just in your boxers, you seem so . . . manly.” “Do you want me to just be in my boxers?” He asked in a rasp. I paused for a moment. “Is that okay?” I looked over his pants. “Totally, I’d rather be in my boxers anyway. The real question is though,” he put his hand onto his hips and spread his legs slightly. “How emasculated do you want to feel while you take them off of me?” My eyes shot up to meet his. “You want me to take them off?” “If you think you can handle that.” He lowered his arms back to his side and stepped forward until his body was over my legs. I was sitting, but his body was towering over mine. My face, my lips, were only centimeters away from his abs. He stayed there for a moment, I could smell his cologne radiating from his incredible body. I had never been so close to a man, my body was nearly short-circuiting. “If you want to see me in my boxers, you’ll have to take off my belt first.” He whispered. Doing as he instructed I pulled my hands up and placed them around his belt. My hands were so close. So close to what I was honestly most intimidated of. A complete and undeniable reminder of just how much more of a man he is than me. I let my hands grasp around the black leather before undoing his buckle. My dad remained stationary as I unfastened his belt, my heartbeat picking up with each movement I made. The belt separated, and I began to pull it through his jean loops. Just as the belt came through the final loop my dad reached for it. “I can take that.” He pulled it through the last loop and let it drop onto the floor next to him without paying attention to where he dropped it. His gaze was locked on me. I paused for a moment unsure of how to proceed. In all these months of wondering what it would be like to see my dad take his clothes off and flex, I never once considered that he would let me take his clothes off. “So I can just . . .” “Yeah it’s all you. If you want me in my boxers you have to take my jeans off.” I moment of lucidity seemed to come across me and I couldn’t help but wonder out loud. “Why are you letting me take them off?” He raised his eyebrows quickly in amusement. “You enjoy feeling small compared to me right?” He asked bluntly. “. . . yeah.” “Well by the same token I like showing off a bit. So making you take my pants off for me is kind of fun. I’m going to make you earn this.” He crossed his arms over. “Your making it difficult to concentrate.” I breathed. “I know.” He smirked flexing his crossed arms and pecs. The sides of his pecs rolled up and formed a crease at the side as his forearms, shoulders, and biceps showed their lines of striations. Back to the task at hand, I raised my arm up and first undid the button of his jeans. I pushed the meal through the slit, allowing his jeans to pop open at the top. The veins along his lower abs suddenly became more visible, disappearing below his beltline. I brought my hand down slightly and put my index finger and thumb against his silver zipper. I was really about to do this. I breathed in, subtly, as I began to unzip my dads pants. The zipper came down without much resistance, but I couldn’t help but notice a slight outward curve to his jeans as I unzipped them. Finally it reached the bottom and my dad’s black boxers were in view. Wanting to savor this moment I rose my fingers ack to his beltline but kept them there for a second. His quads and calves were outlined in his jeans, they were slim cut, and his boxers were showing. I couldn’t believe he was letting me do this, but I wasn’t about to question it. A beautiful, smart man was asking me to take his pants off. I began to pull down and watched as my dad’s boxers and legs slowly came into view as I peeled the jeans off. Once I got down to his quads it became much harder to pull them off. His legs were too large, it was like pulling leather off of someone. After a brief struggle, and a few tugs, the jeans were at my dads feet. To pull them off I had to get onto the floor on my knees and pull them out from under his feet as he raised them. I put them off to the side before looking up at my now nearly naked muscular father in complete awe of what I was seeing. I had seen my dad in his underwear before, but I had never see him look so beautiful or dominate. I had never seen any man look that beautiful or dominate for that matter. His quads and calves were both covered in veins and striations, only further accentuated by their incredible size. As I looked over his legs he tensed them causing his quads to flare out and his calves to raise up into hardened spheres. I looked down at his hairy feet and allowed my eyes to slowly travel up his shaven, vascular, thick legs. The striations in his quads were captivatingly defined. With his arms still crossed it was as though my dad was flexing his entire body. “Fuck. Your legs are insane.” It took everything in me not to rub my hands along his large legs. I was so taken aback that I had almost forgotten to take my eyes further. Realizing this, by instinct, I raised my eyes up and stopped at his boxers. Even in black, a concealing color, they looked filled. My father’s underwear left little to the imagination, and it was even more overwhelming than the rest of him. His boxers were lowcut, but on the top and bottom, and were not particularly spacious. I could actually see a vague outline of what was lying underneath. “Enjoying the view?” He shattered my focus and I quickly blinked back to my already impaired senses, embarrassed that I starred let alone even looked. “Oh . . . umm” I had watched him take his shirt off, flex, I rubbed his feet, and even took off his pants, but that still felt like a step too far. “Daddy a little more intimidating now?” He bent his right leg and extended his right arm out to flex his arms. He flexed his right arm, abs, and right thigh, arching his foot to flex his calf. He grunted as he reached the peak of his pose. Seeing my father nearly naked, flexing his muscles, in just his filled boxers . . . I couldn’t handle it anymore. “You umm . . .” He shifted his pose to flex his legs and upper body but putting his arms down along his sides and then moving them into a front double bicep. My words were lost and all I could do was watch. Next he lifted up the back of his underwear to revel his muscled ass before turning to the side and doing a squatted quad and bicep pose. The side and bottom of his leg became shredded, and his glutes seemed to flex in ways I didn’t even know they could. “How about one more?” He offered. My dad had a funny way of saying things so calmly, even though he had to have known how much this was getting to me. He really did enjoy showing off apparently. He turned his back to me and struck a back double bicep. Seeing his bare glutes was incredible. In all the times he had been in his underwear I had never actually seen his ass. But now in front of me, my dad’s ass was tight, large, cut, and flexed. I had never seen a man with such a powerful and firm back, mixed with his exposed ass, I couldn’t resist letting out. “Fuck.” I breathed as I rolled my lips together, the tension building in my body from seeing my father in such a dominant and masculine way. He slowly turned back around. “Now that I think about it this is probably the first time you’ve ever seen my ass. What do you think?” He raised an eyebrow with his question. “Your entire body is, perfect. I mean seriously you’re . . .” I bent my head slightly. My dad opened his mouth to release one of his cute laughs. “You know you can go ahead and say it right?” Obviously too nervous he went ahead. “Do you think I’m hot?” I took a deep breathe and finally after months of bottling up what I was feeling I allowed my tension to pour out. “Yeah. Honestly, yes.” “See you can be honest. I mean dude, I’m flexing my bare ass I front of you.” He let a second pass by. “No, totally, seeing you pose like this. You’re hot. And . . .” I decided to follow his train of thought and be honest. “If you are really okay with me being open and honest. Could I maybe . . . feel your muscles? You’ve been flexing and it is getting hard to just sit here and watch.” I said clearly and articulately. “Tell you what.” He responded quicker than I thought he would. “I think a full body message might be kind of nice actually.” I smiled at his comment but he quickly raised a finger, turning my joy into confusion and almost agitation. “But first . . .” He looked up putting his words together before speaking. “I don’t suppose you’d want to wrestle a little bit would you?” My face froze over immediately conveying my approval. “I can stay in my underwear.” He offered. The only thing that could have possibly been better than feeling my dad’s hard muscles, would be if he used them. This set off a very strange split feeling in me. The idea of being able to wrestle with my dad, feeling his weight and power on me, was beyond incredible. I wanted to feel that. Though there was still a small part of me that was almost . . . afraid. How bad would this hurt? I was certainly no match for my father. “Wrestling could be fun actually.” I smiled nervously as I stood up and looked at him, awaiting a cue. “Where are you feeling?” I allowed my excitement to bubble up slightly, easing my nerves in the process. In the end, my nervousness was stemming from excitement. I had been waiting so long to see my dad like this, and to be able to feel his body against mine, I couldn’t help but tremble with anticipation. “The living room might be a little cramped. I have an idea though.” He turned away from me, flicking his wrist indicating for me to follow him. He walked around the table, through he living room and kitchen area and then back towards his room. There were only two rooms down that hall: the study, and his room. I knew for a fact there wasn’t enough room in the study, or at least not anymore than there would have been in the living room. That left only one option. His room.
    29 points
  13. Hello, everyone. This story is inspired by "A Bet" by @pasidious, to whom I offer my thanks. It is meant to be a continuation/expansion of sorts. I hope you will find it enjoyable! The sun had been bearing down on the college quad all Sunday, but now it was hanging low enough in the sky that being out and about was tolerable, even enjoyable, so that's what we were doing. My best friend was relaxing on the bench, arms draped on the backrest and legs spread apart. I arguably had an even better sitting arrangement: lying on the seat with my head resting on his left thigh. He'd flex it occasionally, just to mess with me. I couldn't care less, of course. For one, I was busy enjoying the June sky, magnificently blue and clear but for a few wispy clouds that were just starting to turn golden. For another, the tiny bounces of my head against my friend's restless quad kept reminding me of how well his new leg day regimen was coming along. I tried to come up with a good pun about college quads and quad muscles, but either I couldn't think of any or none existed to begin with. "Quad-terback", maybe? Ugh, pass. Neither of us even played football, anyway. Giving up, I refocused on how good my head felt against his leg, and thought about how lucky I was. I've always considered myself rather lucky. Come to think of it, fortunate might be a better choice of word. Luck is mere random chance, while fortune is something you can have a hand in. For example, I had been lucky to be in the same class as my future best friend, but fortunate to get to sit next to him. I owed it to luck that his genetics gave him a cute face, a warm smile and a great body, but I had fortune to thank that fitness was among out shared interests. Falling for him, though, that had nothing to do with luck or fortune. On the contrary, it felt inevitable. From the very beginning, whenever I was with him, the world seemed to lose its rough edges and make more sense. Obstacles turned into exciting challenges. Embarassments became funny stories to retell over months to come. Fears and worries melted away before his casual yet near unshakeable confidence. At the same time, he threw himself into pursuits with an infectious passion. A walk outdoors turned into an adventurous expedition. A snowball fight became a day-long epic stuggle. Every moment of leisure spent with him was an experience. And then, of course, there were his looks to consider. Simply put, my friend started out handsome and graduated to HOT. A piercing pair of eyes framed by thick, expressive eyebrows, an easy, inviting smile, and a rockin' body that never lost its tone, even as it slowly gained mass over the years. Yeah, my friend was sexy and he knew it. He moved with the self-assuredness of a cat, completely comfortable with himself, turning heads left and right. One might think my infatuation is causing me to exaggerate, but the scores of girls flirting with him on a weekly basis would beg to differ. I'm sure there were many closeted dudes desperately pining after him, too. After all, I was one of them. And even though I alone had the privilege of being so close to the guy of so many people's dreams on a daily basis, this tantalizing closeness, bereft of the escalation I so deeply desired, gradually tightened itself into a shackle that eventually threatened to choke the life out of me. My heart had room only for him, but that space remained achingly vacant. In retrospect, I should have been more open with him. He was, after all, my best friend; we shared practically everything else between us. But by the time I acknowledged my feelings, our relationship had been pretty set in its ways. While I was certain he wouldn't mind me being gay, I was terrified that he would be weirded out by me being into him. I dreaded that things would never be the same between us again, and that we'd end up drifting apart or, even worse, breaking things off. This unthinkable possibility was one of the two things that kept me going. The other was that my friend, despite the aforementioned constant attention from the fair sex, never seemed to occupy himself with girls all that much. Sure, he'd have a number of one night stands and even a fling every now and then, and he seemed to enjoy it all, but he never pursued anything stable. It could have just been him sowing his oats, but I kept secretly hoping his true interests lied elsewhere. Not that I did anything to ascertain this, though. While we discussed his many conquests and prospective hookups, I never dared to steer the conversation to guys, and he in turn was very discreet when it came to my own sex life, which was restricted to cyberspace. Graduation came and went, and we both applied for the same out of state college. Naturally, we roomed together. In this exciting new phase of our lives, we wanted to try all sorts of new experiences, and my friend came up with an odd way to encourage that: bets and dares. "Betcha you can't do a kegstand for half a minute." "Betcha you can't smoke this without coughing." "Betcha you can't pull an all-nighter." Coming from anyone else, these could be recipes for disaster, prime plots for PSAs on the perils of peer pressure. My friend knew me and what I was capable of well, however, and never dared me to attempt anything I couldn't handle. What's more, he knew that I'd never take a bet unless I stood to gain something, win or lose. Fortune, not luck, remember. Freshman year wore on pleasantly enough. My friend, naturally, thrived, quickly establishing himself as the big man on campus, a charming and affable figure. Even this newfound fame failed to affect our bond - we still spent as much time as possible together. As for me, the change of scenery did me a world of good. I began to feel more at ease with myself and stepped up my workouts as a result, starting to catch up with my friend's progress. I'd always been more or less in shape, but it felt really good to dodge the Freshman's Fifteen and instead see my body slowly transform under the daily struggle. Plus, I got to spend even more time admiring my bro sweating and grunting his way into a buffer, bigger bod. Seeing every one of his muscle groups flex and bulge over and over again was almost too much to take, though. By Spring Break, I had started to entertain the idea of coming clean. A previously unspeakable prospect, but if I didn't go for it now, I was certain I never would. But then came the dare that would change everything: "Betcha mine's bigger." I'd stolen many furtive glances at my friend's dick over the years, of course, and had formed an excellent impression. In fact, his cock looked as if it might be nearly as big as mine, which at 8 inches was no mean feat. I'd spent countless nights abusing my tool, fantasizing that I was holding his instead. To finally see it in full display would be a dream come true. So, after offering some token "no homo" caveats, as had become second nature, I agreed. I figured that, win or lose, I only stood to gain. The only thing was, I couldn't have imagined just how much I'd gain that day...Ever since then, my BF had become my BF. It's true I had been very lucky that he, too, was gay and into me. But I was fortunate that he had finally decided to bite the bullet and suggested that bet to set things in motion. It was a bit of a shame that it had taken both of us that long to acknowledge our feelings, but at least we had done our very best to make up for lost time over the past year. Such were the thoughts I was entertaining, lying on my love during a warm summer afternoon, when along came about half a dozen senior-looking guys, swaggering their way across the quad lawn. I recognised most of them from the gym, although we had never exchanged a word; they tended to keep their distance from us and even avoided looking us in the eye, except to scowl. I hadn't wanted to apply any labels to their conduct, but now, seeing them surrounding us in the largely deserted and definitely faculty-less quad with stormy expressions, one came readily to mind: "Homophobe". Poorly veiled sarcasm soon gave its way to crude jokes and finally to outright slurs. It was then that I made a serious mistake: I assumed that these bullies must have extremely low intelligence and therefore would not understand a witty barb even if it kissed their ass. In my defense, it probably wouldn't make a difference no matter what I'd said; just daring to open my mouth seemed to be enough. The closest bully lunged at us even before I had finished my quip, eager for any excuse to justify his craving for violence. My bro, having greater presence of mind, had already geared up for a sucker-punch, delivering it to the guy's admittedly bulky midsection with such force and skill that he crumpled mid-swing and doubled over in front of the bench. His cohorts gathered round to check on him, shocked. That was all the diversion we needed. My friend leaped off the bench and started sprinting towards the main building, and I followed close behind. Bellows of rage soon followed us, but for now, at least, we had the advantage; these guys had clearly never paid much attention to cardio. We dashed madly through the double doors and down the hallways, looking for help but unsurprisingly finding none. Most of the students had already left on break, and those that hadn't were probably tripping in their rooms or hitting the town. As for the professors, any self-respecting member of faculty wouldn't be caught dead working on a summer Sunday's afternoon. The time we lost in out fruitless search was gained by our pursuers. The echo of their yells reminded me of the hunting calls of wolves as it reverberated in the empty corridors. It sounded as if they were approaching us from everywhere. Sure enough, three silhouettes appeared at the end of the corridor we were currently in, and triumphant cries from behind let us know we were trapped. My friend grabbed me roughly with one hand and opened the nearest door with the other, flinging me inside. As I scrambled to keep my balance, I saw him scrambling with the doorknob. "Yes!" he exclaimed breathlessly, and then I heard a sharp click. Trying to catch my breath, I took in some of my surroundings: a dusty glass cabinet showcasing an ancient sound console; a worn bookcase housing a portable radio/casette player, a small collection of CDs and a handful of instruction manuals; a cork board drowning in pinned pieces of paper and post-its, a couple of them on the floor; tarps covering a family of boxy shapes, with a mess of cables protruding underneath; a desk with a computer and a rather modern microphone on a stand; black foamy material covering all the walls except the large, thick window facing the hallway. This was the PA Room. The Public Announcement Room, or PA Room for short, was a place of many uses, the official one being, of course, the broadcasting of campus-wide announcements. Otherwise, it served as our college's radio station whenever anyone from the A/V club could be bothered to wander in, as a recording studio any time students needed one for a project or a promo, and in one memorable occasion when the Music Room had flooded, as a very cramped substitute practice space for the college band. There was, however, another use for it. Its soundproofing, combined with the fact that the key was kept on the inside to avoid any recording-ruining intrusions, made it a great spot for a quick fuck. No-one could hear you, but anyone might see you if you didn't keep low to the floor. It was especially favoured by couples who wanted to feel the thrill of getting it on in a public place without risking too much exposure. If the staff knew about it, they certainly hadn't made any indication of it. Who knows? Maybe they took advantage of it themselves from time to time. I certainly had a few likely candidates in mind. I turned to my friend, about to congratulate him for thinking of this shelter, when a cascade of loud bangs came from the door. The shapes of our hunters filled the window frame, glowering down on us. They took turns trying to break the door or window open, fortunately to no avail. Those resting between attempts would scream and gesticulate at us. I couldn't hear them clearly, but the context was easy enough to grasp. I took my phone out of my pocket, my fingers numb. As I did, I remembered that the room was also equipped to block cell signal; wouldn't want a careless student's errant ringtone to ruin a recording, after all. Just as I feared, the screen showed no bars, and from the look of consternation on my friend's face, neither did his. I turned to the computer next, haphazardly tapping at the keys and moving the mouse. The screen came to life, and I groaned in frustration as I saw a log-in screen, requesting a user name and password combination I couldn't begin to guess. I clicked on the textbox, hoping a dropdown of memorized credentials would appear. No such luck. This ruled out both the PA System and internet access. Great. I looked to my friend again. Contrary to my frantic movements, he seemed to stand rather still, looking intently at his toes. "What are we gonna do?" I asked, realizing to my embarassment that my voice was shaking. "Are we trapped?" My friend swallowed with some difficulty before answering, "Seems like we can't easily call for help. The door and window are durable...but not indestructible. They prolly know that, seeing as they haven't fucked off yet. If this keeps up..." he paused, not wanting to give shape to the future that awaited us with words. He turned to me, and I was shocked to see his eyes shine with tears. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "No, don't, please," I said, holding him by the shoulders gently. I tried to say something more, something reassuring and encouraging, but instead my voice caught in my throat. I felt tears prick my eyes in turn. No matter whether they were 21 years old or lived in the 21st century, it seemed some people were still far from mature when it came to accepting love. To want to hurt something harmless and beautiful...I couldn't wrap my head around it. If not for the firm shoulder under my palm, I'd be feeling very alone at that moment. "I can't think of anything...all we can do is hope we'll get lucky somehow," said my friend, muttering now more to himself than me. But just then, his expression shifted. He repeated, softly, "Get lucky..." and his eyebrows rose in surprise. "That's it!" he exclaimed, startling me off him. "Huh?", I asked, totally lost. "D' you know what we should do?" "No, what?" "We should jack off." It took me a moment to process what he had just said, as well as its implications. "What, here? Now? Right NOW?!" "Yah," he said as matter-of-factly as possible, though I could tell that even he was unsure of what he was proposing. Still, it seemed that my incredulity only served to strengthen his resolve. "Yah," he said again, his voice louder. "We should take a stand. Show 'em what we're really made of." "Are you out of your mind? Do you seriously think we can get a hard-on while we're about to get our ass kicked?! And even if we can, you want them to see...y' know! Everyone'll freak -" "I know we can do it, man," he cut me off, his voice low and urgent. "You know how I know? Because when I'm with you, I feel like I can do anything. I bet it's the same for you. I can feel that, too. I've been waiting so long for us to be together, and I'm not about to let anyone ruin it for us." "But..." He leaned in and placed his hand behind my head, our foreheads resting against each other. His gaze was so intense the words died in my throat. "C'mon, dude. Let's grow hard. Let's grow huge. Let's grow...together." His warm breath washed over me as he whispered these last words, and something inside me snapped. Was my friend's sex appeal so irresistible as to override my very instinct of survival? Or had he, perhaps, convinced me that this was indeed the best course of action? Then again, maybe I just wanted to spend my final moments of safety in defiant provocation of those who were threatening it. Regardless of reason, the result was the same: I leaned forward and kissed him. He responded immediately, his lips pressing down on mine, our tongues soon wrestling for control. His hand remained on my head for a bit, tousling my hair, before moving to my back and pulling me into an embrace. I wrapped my arms around him as well, pressing myself against him, feeling as much of his body with my own as possible. A couple more fruitless bangs echoed around the room. My eyes opened, darting to the window. Two of our besiegers had unhooked the nearest fire extinguishers and were trying to batter the door down. A couple were yelling at us, angry veins showing on their throats and foreheads. Next to them, one guy was staring at us with such hate, you'd think his eyes would shoot flames at any moment. The last one had turned away from the window and was apparently fighting the urge to vomit, his large body trembling in disgust. Paying them no more heed, I closed my eyes and continued grinding against my friend, losing myself in the moment as my hands roamed all over his hot body. Unbidden, his words from that fateful day flowed into my mind. "Let's see 'em hard. Hard. Get hard. Let's see them at full size. You're already starting to bone up..." I felt my dick respond to the call, steadily plumping up and rising, twitching in pleasure as it grazed my man's thigh under my shorts. At the same time, his hardening cock rubbed against my own leg, tracing an upward path. As our erections reached their full, glorious size and height, we broke our embrace and grinned at each other, he cockily and I sheepishly, a bit embarassed at how unfounded my earlier objection had turned out to be. "See? This wasn't so hard after all. A sentence which otherwise has no place in this room!", he said, trying to keep the laughter out of his voice. He turned towards the window, facing the gang for the first time since we entered the room, and I followed suit. "Ok, count of three, whip 'em out." He always liked to kick things off with these words, a callback to that first time. Bit of a goofy catchphrase by this point, but still, it was helpful. "Even professional bands have the drummer count off the beat, so we might as well beat off on a count, right?" he had later commented, earning a hearty groan and eyeroll from me. "One...two...THREE." I dropped my shorts, the elastic band snagging only for a moment on my swollen cockhead, and my dick bounced back sharply, standing proudly at attention. The bullies grimaced and winced, as if someone had kicked them in the balls all at once. I glanced to the right and was greeted with the more welcoming sight of my bro's balls and cock, exactly as long and hard as my own. Any last reservations I may have had for what was about to happen evaporated. I looked down at my tool as my fingers curled around it, appreciating its girth and heft. I tightened my grip momentarily, giving it a squeeze, and it pulsed in response. Then, I started stroking. I immediately felt the telltale difference. I had experimented a couple of times, jerking myself off when my bro wasn't around, hoping to surprise him with the results when he came back. It had felt exactly the same as a normal wank and resulted in nothing out of the ordinary, no matter how vividly I pictured him being there with me. It seemed like my dick would accept no substitutes. But this time, we were both here, stroking together, just like on the day of that bet, just like we'd done on many occasions since. And as I stroked myself, it felt as if my whole body was being stroked too, getting teased and played with by a giant, invisible hand. Although by this point I had experienced it a fair number of times, it still felt as unbelievably amazing as it did on the day of that fateful bet. I honestly don't think I will ever get tired of it - and who could blame me? It began, as it always did, slowly. Today time was of the essence, of course, but some things simply can't be rushed. Besides, we both knew the pace would pick up soon enough, in all manner of ways. A trickle of warmth started radiating from my burning cock. It spread lazily, like a sunrise, across my torso, caressing my stomach, then splitting into two waves that crossed my chest, gathering steam within my shoulders, before finally shooting along my arms and from there back into my dick. It then travelled the other way, through my swelling balls across my taint, wrapping itself tighly against my ass cheeks, then snaking around my slightly trembling thighs, and down to my calves, seemingly vanishing into the earth. But then, this warmth spread all over my body again, only quicker and stronger. And then it happened again. And again. And again. Faster and faster it pulsed, even as my stroking stayed slow and deliberate. It wasn't long before it became impossible to follow. Instead, it was as if an electric current was coursing through my entire form, making it stand as rigid as my rod. What had started as a welcoming hearth was now a roaring furnace centered within my junk, giving off unrelenting heat which suffused every inch of my body and grew still more intense by the second. Beads of sweat formed on my creased forehead and rested for a moment on my furrowed brows before falling on my veiny shaft, lubricating it for the benefit of my ever-pumping fist. My breath grew more shallow. I raised my head and turned it sharply to the right. Despite the intensity of the moment, I could take in every detail with perfect clarity, as if time itself had slowed down. My peripheral vision told me, therefore, that he had made a simultaneous mirror movement, jerking his head upright and turning to the left. Our eyes met as we both stood up straight, facing each other. His dark brown eyes were mesmerizing. Rivulets of sweat were running down his toned body, and I could pick up his scent: powerful, yet not unpleasant. He smelled like home to me. His muscles looked like they had just had a great pump at the gym; his skin appeared stretched over them, as if barely able to contain the growing power within. His mouth split into a wicked, cocky grin, and I felt my smile widen to match it. Then, finally, my gaze came to rest on his throbbing dick, standing tall and proud, and, of course, exactly as big as mine. As expected, he was stroking it at the same speed as me. Oddly enough, we hadn't given much thought on why this happened to us or, at least, we hadn't had the opportunity to really talk about it. It seemed like every time we mentioned it to one another, it was swiftly followed by a fierce joint desire for a practical demonstration, which precluded any intruding thoughts. Still, there were a few nights where I had idly mulled it over in my head, lying with his arms wrapped around me as sleep drew near. It seemed to me that it all came down to our cocks. Something about the realization that they were exactly the same size, both soft and hard. It must have unlocked some kind of deeper connection between us, an unspoken yet shared conviction that, thus united, we could both be so much more than either of us could ever be individually. That was the way I felt at this moment too, as I admired our twin dicks being pumped at the same steady, hypnotic rhythm. ("Me and him...we're two dudes in one".) I thought, proudly. ("We are...") ("...together...") Was that...? ("...we will...") His voice, too? ("...ΒΕCOME...") A deluge of power engulfed my entire body. A bolt of lightning might as well have struck me where I stood. I gasped and doubled over slightly as I got the wind knocked out of me. My chest, however, seemed to move less compared to the rest of my body. That was because it had just swelled outward, almost doubling in size in an instant. As I watched it filled out even more, pumping up faster and faster to the rhythm of my accelerating heartbeat, forming a nice pec shelf. The sweat on my newly grown muscles darkened the fabric of my light grey shirt, outlining them against it. My dick gave a powerful twitch at the sight, but I kept it under control. After all, the fun was just getting started. I wouldn't keep looking at myself for long, though. The best part about this thing, see, is that it's happening to another dude at the same time. I can feel the change within me while watching HIM transform as well and react to it. It's unspeakably hot. No two men on earth have ever experienced what we do in these moments. The outline of my friend's ballooning chest was clearly visible under his black tank top, the pecs growing thick and hard against the already taut fabric. The outline of his nipples appeared, pushing at first outward, then downward, as the slabs of muscle became too heavy for them. The tank top dipped under the weight, further exposing the developing crevice between the pecs. His dogtag accessory, which had been previously resting at an angle against his chest, jerked this way and that as he excitedly bounced his massive mounds of muscle, grunting softly with every step of that uniquely masculine dance. I decided to play a little as well, but instead of bouncing my pecs, I rolled them slowly over and over. I could practically feel the striations appear and disappear as my muscles undulated in an unparallelled display of control. "Awww yeaaahngh" I heard, and for the life of me I still can't tell which of us uttered it. Perhaps it was the sum of our combined ecstatic moans, celebrating the return of our shared muscle. For a moment, my eyes caught sight of the guy who had tried to grab at me. Although I couldn't hear him, his lips moved slowly and were easy enough to read: "Holy shit!" I looked back to my friend. His free hand eagerly lifted his top, exposing his flat belly. Just in time, too; the slight but distinct grooves, a product of years of dedicated hard work, were already deepening, filling with shadow as a pack of solid muscle bricks rose into prominence. As if the sweat dripping off them wasn't enough, my friend, now keeping his tank top raised with his teeth, rapidly swapped hands and proceeded to feel his abs with his formerly occupied palm, slathering them with precum. "Ohhh, fuck yeah..." he whispered, and a chuckle of pure delight escaped his lips as he caressed, poked and prodded to his heart's content; I knew that out of all his muscles, he was proud of his abs the most. As for me, the sight of the glistening beef was maddeningly inviting. It all but begged for my attention; I longed to wipe the precum off with my tongue, or perhaps to add to it. I was sure that, no matter how cut my friend became, I'd still be able to fill all available space between his abs with my cum. The thought nearly drove me wild and my dick throbbed alarmingly. I decided to turn my attention back to myself for the moment, and check out if my own six-pack had emerged yet. However, by this point my pecs had become rather too big, or perhaps my stomach too sucked in, or maybe even both. At any rate, I found it hard to see my abs properly just by looking straight down. I slowly rotated my torso this way and that, getting a better view of my shredded obliques. I ran each hand over my stomach, switching them between my cock and my body without ever breaking the rhythm. Sure enough, my palm rose and fell gently as it roamed over the cobblestone surface of my packed muscle. "Oh man, oh FUCK, this feels sooo GOODGHHH!" moaned my friend, throwing his head back and shutting his eyes tight, his teeth gritted in a savage grin. A moment later I realized why. The tank top's straps were sliding down the slopes of his rising traps, no longer dividing his shoulders into equal thirds. His frame was widening so quickly I almost expected to hear him creaking. Groaning, he rolled his shoulders forward, once, twice, three times, bucking his hips as he went. His delts rippled and bulged with every thrust, moulding themselves into veritable boulders of corded muscle fiber. I braced myself for the same sensation, but instead I felt my arms being inexorably pushed away as my lats started flaring up. Out and out they grew, as slow and unstoppable as a glacier. For a few moments, it seemed like they'd keep growing forever. Then, suddenly, it was as if a jet of flame shot up from each, rocketing up and out in a V-shape which blazed all over my back and shoulders. Then I, too, started to grow wider and thicker. Truthfully, it wasn't as bad as it looked from the outside. There was some pain, yes, but it only served to amplify the overwhelming waves of pleasure that accompanied it. Rather than the sensation of getting deformed or stretched, it felt more like I was being fitted into a mold, one that had been meant for me all along. I let out a long moan as my once loose sleeveless t-shirt rode up my rows of abs, hugging my sweat soaked body tighter and tighter. A feeling of belonging and contentment washed over me, and I briefly wondered if that was how bodybuilders felt when they had finally reached their dream stats. "Unngggnngghh!!" My friend's guttural grunt snapped me out of my brief reverie. Had it been my imagination, or was his voice just then deeper than he could have possibly made it himself? He gasped and swung his head forward, causing droplets of sweat to fly off his hair. His eyes were wild and unfocused. I could now see clearly his bulging traps, rising and falling with every breath...but mostly still rising. I have a soft spot for traps; since they're rather difficult to build compared to other muscles, I've always thought that a dude with nice developed traps is buff on a whole 'nother level. And now, I could feel my own traps emerging as well, my neck thickening between them. I cracked my neck to either side, feeling the satisfying snap and taking a good look at my own shoulders. FUCK they looked huge up close. I was sure that I could charge the door at that moment and take it off its hinges as if it were made of wet tissue paper. As if wanting to draw my admiring gaze back to him, my friend hunched over, letting loose another bestial growl and giving me a good view of his tapered back. He flexed it, hard, and waves of muscle undulated across it, making his skintight tanktop look like a dark sea ravaged by a storm. A short, sharp ripping sound, and then an island, a mountain, a volcano of muscular flesh erupted from the rift, rippling and then hardening like lava. I felt the incredible power he displayed welling up in the centre of my being, as well, building and building until its demand for expression became irresistible. I pulled my shoulders back and out, bringing my shoulderblades close, and for a moment my pecs stretched super tight against my shirt, scarring it with stress lines. "AH..." I moaned loudly, then: "UNGH!!!" as I reversed the movement, flaring out my back as much as possible. As I did, I could feel it wildly grow wider, straining but for a moment against my shirt before that, too, was anticlimactically ripped in two by my sheer size and mass and strength. The grey rag fluttered to the floor, leaving now both of our heaving torsos in full, glorious display. Incredibly, our legs had been able to support our top-heavy bodies all this time. Maybe it was the adrenaline we were no doubt soaking in at the moment? It seemed that even supernatural muscle growth had a tendency to overlook leg day. But now, they, too, were awakening. My legs started to inflate and bulge. Each individual muscle came to the fore, fighting with its brethren for space. I could feel the inside of my thighs starting to press against each other and I adjusted my stance. I shook my left leg, looking at the newly formed muscles from multiple angles. The ample mass of my quads jiggled and swayed. Then I abruptly stopped and flexed them, and they instantly popped, hard as diamonds. It's a good thing I had lowered my shorts to my ankles, or that would have been their end right there. Looking back at my bro, I saw that the gently rolling hills of his thighs had given way to granite mountain ranges, rivers of sweat running down them. Defying that well-known stereotype, my arms, despite the workout I had been giving them, largely felt and looked the same size as ever, now standing comically small next to my jacked upper body. That was just fine, though. The comparison emphasized even better just how big I'd gotten over the last few minutes and besides, they wouldn't be staying like that for much longer. Already I could see a vein protruding in each one, steadily pumping my heart's blood through them, just like I steadily kept pumping my fist over my steel rod of a dick. My thoughts strayed to the countless hours we had spent at the gym, and the natural, honest gains we'd earned as a result. That was all well and good, of course, but there was a lot to be said for growing so much, so quickly, as well. I mean, having an erection is awesome, but imagine always having just the one ever since adolescence, never experiencing the feeling of getting hard again. Knowing that I could feel myself transforming this way over and over, and that our real, hard-gained muscle would result in ever larger and more ripped bods whenever we felt like changing - well, that almost sent me over the edge. I summoned all my willpower, and with a muffled "Ngh!" I went back to edging with some difficulty. "How you doin', bro? Hangin' in there?" My friend's voice, strained and broken up by his panting as it may have been, was unmistakably deeper than before. Its sexy timbre and casual tone were making an admirable job of playing it cool, but one look at his eyes betrayed his concern for me. "Yeah", I shot back, amazed at my own husky voice. Had our voices changed in the past? At that point I was too horny to remember. "Fuckin' A..." he trailed off, the last syllable almost turning into a moan. "Ughhh...I love this!" he yelled. "Yeah!" I chimed in, emboldened by his sudden outburst. "I love this SO MUCH!" "I love it almost as much as I love you, dude!" he practically screamed. "Ι love you too, man!" I shouted back. We both knew that getting verbal was a sign that we were close to cumming, so we needed all the support we could get from one another to keep going, and finally grow each other's arms. While my bro favoured abs and I traps, arms was our common ground. As if they somehow knew this, our arms had started resisting growing too early during our sessions, leaving us with the best for last. They'd never held out this long before, though. We came closer slowly, eating up every inch of each other with our eyes. When we were next to each other, we stopped for a moment. Then, in one smooth motion, we both grasped each other's cock with our right hands. Our left hands grabbed each other's dick-stroking arms, and started feeling the muscles that had already started exploding all over them. Indeed, "explosion" is the only word that comes close to describing it. Waves of muscle erupted furiously, piling on top of one another, hardening into eye-watering definition, only for still more muscle to emerge, packing itself tighter and tighter, denser and denser, bigger and bigger. Our biceps doubled in size, then tripled, then grew beyond what I could be bothered to estimate. Our forearms flexed and twitched as we stroked and squeezed, fully expressing the awesome strength they now possessed. It was becoming too much to take it all in. Our bodies were starting to run out of growth space, but the growth itself still flowed forth from our cocks. With no place left to go, it started to work its magic there. My grip suddenly felt unfamiliar. My bro's junk shifted within my palm as it thickened and gained an inch, then another. I could feel my cock spasming with overwhelming power. Then, as I knew he would, I heard him voicing my thoughts: "Aw shit, dude. This - ahh, g-goddd! - this's it. I'm gonna - ohh fffuck - 'm gon' cum!" I threw my head back and my arms flew up into a double biceps. I could feel my peaks rising up, and up, and further up still. I tensed, flexing myself as hard as I could. A deep, primal roar sprang from within my chest, rising in volume and tone as it went. It was met by another roar, different but harmonious to my own. The two voices resonated, their vibrations almost visible in the air. It seemed to me that the very room started to tremble and shake. My eyelids fluttered open and I saw him there in front of me, flexing into a most muscular, every part of him huge, hard and cut. Our eyes met. Reflected within his I saw me. I saw both of us at the same time, each contained within the other, inseperable, two equal and complementary halves of perfection. And that's then we came. ... When we finally came to our senses, you won't be surprised to know that the room was a mess. About half the black foam had been soaked white, making it look a little like a cow had exploded all over the bare walls. The tarps had proven woefully inadequate in protecting the sound equipment, and no-one was going to leaf through any of the instruction manuals ever again. The hallway outside the PA Room was empty, our would-be assailants presumably having fled in terror quite a while ago. Although I didn't think they would share their story with anyone, much less that it would be believed, I still felt confident word would get around that we were not to be fucked with. I was still taking in the scene of devastation when my friend pointed at me, exclaiming, "Bro, what the fuck?!" With a pang of panic, I checked myself all over, noticing nothing out of the ordinary. Ok, fine, nothing unexpected. As I straightened my head, though, it hit me. My eyes were level with the top of the bookcase. Up until a few minutes ago, they had been level with the top shelf. I hadn't noticed it because my friend had grown taller by the same amount. And the fact that our muscles still looked the same meant that they must have all grown proportionally at the same time. They'd never done that before. We looked at each other excitedly, fascinated by what this implied. After all, regular exercises made your muscles bigger and stronger as you kept at them. Why wouldn't this function in a similar way? Could it be that our ability to grow was...growing itself? My train of thought was interrupted by a jolt from my cock. I had to remind myself it had grown, too, since it looked proportionate to my now taller and larger body. It seemed as hard as ever. Of course, even in the past it could stay hard for quite a while after the fact, giving us ample time to enjoy our muscles in peace. But this time...it felt as if my boner would last quite a bit longer, if I was so inclined. In fact, it kinda felt even harder now. This realization was swiftly followed by one that had been screaming for my attention for a while. "Fuck, I'm...still horny." "Me too." "...Come on, let's really take care of these." "Thought you'd never say so."
    28 points
  14. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 11 I woke up to the sensation of an incredibly muscular hand around my cock. “Morning,” I muttered to Jason. I reached over to feel his meaty pec but was greeted by his bicep flexing as he stroked me. “Thought you’d like this,” he said. “It just looked so tempting.” Jason’s own cock was also at full mast. I wiped some sleep from my eyes and look at Jason. He looked a little bigger than he had before I went to bed, a little fuller. Aroused by the whole scene, I grabbed his cock with my right hand and began stroking him as well. I matched his grip pressure for pressure. The harder and faster he stroked, the harder and faster I stroked. Soon enough, we were both erupting with cum. “That’s a way to wake up,” I said. We took a quick shower together. It would have been even quicker, but we couldn’t stop kissing each other’s bodies or feeling each other’s muscles. Jason’s felt warm, firm, and swollen, like after an intense workout. We eventually got clean, but we barely had enough room to wash. When I got back into the bedroom, I saw some clothes strewn on the floor. “What’s this?” I asked. “I didn’t sleep,” Jason confessed. “If I’ve only got 24 hours with these muscles, I want to enjoy them. So, I curled up with you until you fell asleep, then I snuck off to the gym. How did you fit through those doors at 500 pounds? I had difficulty navigating at 375. Then, I spent the next few hours just lifting. I lifted weights twice as heavy as my maxes. It was intoxicating.” “I thought you had a pump,” I said. “Still?” He looked down, and his muscles did seem engorged. “I wanted to get a pump and take some photos. I took a thousand photos, Miles.” “Neither a workout nor a photoshoot explains the clothes,” I said, pointing at the mess. “Well, I wanted to see if any of my clothes would fit me.” “Of course, they wouldn’t,” I said. “You’re twice as big as TV Jason and half again as big as at-home Jason.” “Yeah, but it was fun struggling.” He picked up a pair of briefs that were stretched almost beyond recognition. “I did manage to get these on. Well, until I got an erection and everything popped out.” He turned the briefs around to show the garment’s torn waist. “How can you function at this size?” He grabbed his cock and balls, as much as would fit in his hands, but the sheer immensity of it overfilled his fist. “I just constantly want to have sex.” “That’s the increased hormones from your enlarged balls.” “It’s relentless.” Laughing, I picked up a few pieces of clothes, and realized that some of them were mine. I held up a shirt to show Jason. “Yeah. When I didn’t fit into my clothes, I decided to try on some of yours. You’re usually 330. I figured they’d fit.” “You’re currently 375 pounds, and you’re taller than me,” I reminded him. “I realized those obvious facts when I had trouble getting them on. You’re my giant, muscle monster of a boyfriend. Your clothes always look so big to me, and I was too big for your clothes.” He sounded almost giddy. “Show me,” I said, tossing him the shirt. It was a dark green t-shirt I would sometimes wear when lounging around the house on a lazy Sunday. He got it over his chest and shoulders, but it bunched up around his biceps, which pushed the sleeves up. More deliciously, his chest stuck out so far that he stretched the collar, giving me a glimpse of chest hair, and his nipples were self-evident through the fabric of the shirt. The overhang of pecs prevented the shirt from reaching all the way down to his waist, so his bottom two rows of abs was on full display, especially when he stretched up even slightly. “That’s a good look on you,” I said. “You like me in clothes that are too small?” he said, bouncing his pecs, stretching out my shirt even further. “I like you however I can get you.” Jason flexed his biceps for me, and teased, "You should see me in your pants.” I picked up a pair of jeans, and I saw a streak of dried cum in the crotch area. “I can see they excited you,” I said, showing him the stain. “Yeah. It was intense.” “How long was I asleep?” I asked. “Four hours,” Jason said, peeling off my shirt. “When it hit 5 AM, I couldn’t hold off any longer and gave you that wake up call.” After breakfast, we went out to enjoy the morning at our new size. I had so much fun rubbing the sun lotion into his giant, burly, huge body, especially that sinewy back with all its nooks and crannies. I understood why Jason was being so sun-conscious this past week and a half: it was an excuse to feel me up. “I’m so glad we got more sunscreen,” I said, cupping a feel of his pecs. He cupped my pec in appreciation as well. “Of course.” We roughhoused in the water for a few hours. Jason got a major kick out of the fact that we were equally matched. He was so used to being overpowered by me, that having a fighting chance made him fight that much harder, so he was winning more often than not. He even lifted me clean out of the water a few times. I hadn’t been lifted by another man since college, and never so impressively. His erection didn’t subside the entire time. After that delightful splash fest, I could see Jason was flagging, so we lay on the beach to do some reading, my head on his taut stomach. But, Jason had trouble getting comfortable. He couldn’t see his tablet over his pecs. “How do you do this?” he asked. “I’m muscle-blind.” “Hold it on your pecs, not below them,” I said, demonstrating. “So that’s why you hold it like this,” he said, readjusting. “I always thought it was a weird affectation.” I read for maybe three minutes before I turned to watch Jason’s beastly body, still lightly speckled with slowly evaporating water, heaving with every breath he took, bursting with might and muscle. From my vantage point, his pecs looked even more colossal. While I watched him, his pad fell to the sand, and he dozed off. I decided to let him sleep for an hour before waking him. I know he wanted to experience every last second of these 24 hours, but he’d already been up for over a day. If he got no sleep, he couldn’t enjoy the remaining time. For sixty minutes, I watched him sleep. Then, I decided to wake him with a blowjob. I couldn’t fit his girthy cock in my mouth—that was his specialty—so I licked it up and down, rubbing his sensitive cock head on my lips and through my beard, kissing, licking, and caressing it, teasing it with my mouth. It stiffened and lengthened in my hand, and soon, it was a full 12 inches. I increased my ministrations, and Jason said, “I’m awake,” suddenly. After a few inarticulate growls, he added, “Oh, yes. Keep going.” Within minutes, I could tell he was about to cum, so I moved my face and pointed his cock down at the sand as he blasted voluminous volleys of jizz. As he basked in the post-orgasm bliss, he asked, “How long was I asleep?” “Just an hour,” I said. “I want you to enjoy today, so I didn’t force you to stay awake, nor did I let you sleep too long.” “Thanks,” he said. “For the nap.” Bashfully, he added, “And for the blow job. It was epic.” By then, it was time for lunch, so we went inside. After we ate, I had an idea that Jason absolutely loved. “That horrible superhero sequel you were in is in the movie database. I say we watch it, and we compare the Jason Prentiss onscreen with the mighty Jason Prentiss on honeymoon.” Every time his character was onscreen, especially if his character was shirtless, Jason would jump up from the couch and pose and preen next to his counterpart. He made the man onscreen—a man who was a hefty, sizable 225 pounds—look like an anemic excuse for a weakling. When the movie ended, Jason arranged a suite of photos for us to take, this time together. He wanted to commemorate the one day when he was as huge as his gigantic man. The photoshoot devolved into a fuck session, this time with me on top. I was pressing him into the wall, and he was fighting back. Our bodies were both so thick, and the grappling flexed our muscles into larger relief, that it felt like there was a third muscleman in our embrace. We dressed for dinner—mostly because I wanted to see Jason, hairy and muscular, bursting out of one of my blazers, unable to fit into one of my dress shirts, and overfilling my dress pants with both his ass and crotch. Dinner was sweet and intimate. We spent most of it just gazing at each other lovingly in the candlelight, our knees pressed into each other. He was so beautiful that he smoldered. After dinner, we decided to slow dance like we had in Vancouver, both of our obscene bulges and jutting chests pressing into each other, just dancing slowly, two mighty men in love. When the last song ended, I kissed him slow and passionate, my hands running through his hair. He practically melted into my arms. “Promise me you’ll never stop kissing me like that.” “I promise.” We were both dead tired after the past two days, so we went to bed at a reasonable time, Jason and I curled up in each other’s arms, face to face. When the clock told us it was 11:50, a worried, pained look darkened Jason’s brow. “What if I don’t give any of it back?” he asked. “Do you really want to live life at 375 pounds? It’s hard enough at 330. Trust me.” “I’d adjust.” “You’d have to give up your show. Your career. You’d have to go into hiding.” “Fair trade,” Jason said. I sighed and nuzzled into him tighter. “They’re not your muscles. You’re just borrowing them.” “But I look so damn hot,” he said, flexing his bicep, showing me that it was practically the size of my head. “You undeniably look hot with all this muscle. But they’re not yours. They’re not even mine.” “You can’t lend me muscles ever again. I get it. It was a one-time deal because of birthday magic…” I interrupted, “It was a consequence of how ridiculously huge I’d gotten, how often I borrow your muscles, and the fundamental interconnectedness of all things.” Jason nodded, “Like I said, birthday magic. But if I don’t give them back at midnight, what’ll happen?” I consulted the rulebook in my head. “Because I’m the one who borrowed them, I can give them back on your behalf.” “And if you don’t give them back?” There was the faintest hint of a pleading in his voice. “I’d never do that. These men didn’t give me their muscles; I’m borrowing them. They’re just temporary deposits.” “That’s what I thought.” He sighed, forlornly. After a minute of silence, he announced, “I’m glad you’re the sort of man who’d give them back, even if I don’t want to. It means you’re the sort of man I want to spend the rest of my life with.” At midnight, I made the phone call, and we diminished back to our normal sizes. I was 330; Jason was 250. “Goodbye, giant muscles,” he said as he deflated. “Goodbye, giant penis.”
    26 points
  15. His wheezing and footsteps could be heard throughout the halls of the lab building as he sprinted past the different doors, almost slipping on the shreds of fabric on the floor, frantically searching for somewhere to hide. Finally, he picked a room and ducked in, cramming himself into a standing cabinet next to some testing equipment and shoving all the cords to one side. It was a very tight fit, but he was able to close the door. Seconds felt like hours as he went over in his head what happened to his colleagues, trying to make sense of a seemingly impossible situation. ~~~~~~~ They had been tasked with carbon dating some ancient artifacts that local archaeologists had recently found. It was oddly suspicious from the very moment that they had received the request. The so-called "archaeologists" said they had found the artifacts under a tree in the local woods, but the woods had been planted when the town was built less than 100 years ago. On top of that, the items had been dropped off when no one was present at the lab with nothing but a note and a receipt for a massive donation, which turned out to be real, and some address for a building in the nearby woods. ~~~~~~~ There was a loud bang coming from down the hall that caused his heart to leap, breaking him out of his thoughts. He tried to quiet his terrified breathing and pleaded that his old co-workers wouldn't find him. His time was running out to attempt to figure out a solution before they found him. Wracking his brain for details and desperately trying to ignore the sounds coming from the adjacent lab, he thought back again to when they were evaluating the dreaded book and necklace. ~~~~~~~ There were 4 of them working on the seemingly easy project, 2 on each artifact. It shouldn't have taken more than a day but so many things weren't adding up. For one, the place where the note had said the artifacts were found was only a short distance from a heavily trafficked area, and the book showed no evidence of being buried in any way. In fact, the book looked brand new, but the carbon dating indicated that the pages were close to 600 years old, and the necklace was the same. The book had an imprint for the necklace, but nothing happened (or so they thought) when the two were combined. Additionally, just being around the 2 things gave everyone a feeling of confusion and uneasiness, and it didn't take long to realize why. Although the book was empty, everyone in the team seemed to be able to hear someone chanting when they got close to it, but it wasn't a language that any of them recognized. At the time, they didn't realize it, but even then, they were already changing. Clothes were tighter, hair was thicker; they were slowly growing into something more. They had been so focused to trying to understand what was happening that they chalked the discomfort up to stress, but were rocketed back to reality when his button broke. Looking back, that may have been the only reason that he was still himself now, as he excused himself to the bathroom to address the malfunction. Distant from the items, he was able to see what had happened to him. His hands were much larger and thicker than they were before. His arms were full with dense muscle that was stressing his shirt and lab coat. His legs and feet were uncomfortably stuffed into his pants and shoes. He looked to his chest, and saw a thick shelf of muscle, the cause of the broken button. His whole body was much hairier than it had previously been, his stubble resembling more than a 5 o'clock shadow on his newly defined jaw. Even his face and head looked thicker and stronger with his hair being fuller and slightly longer. It all confused and terrified him, and also excited him. He felt himself growing more and more aroused as he felt his cock snake down his tight pant leg to where he was used to, then continuing a few inches longer. He rubbed his thick member with his hand and moaned with his deeper voice, feeling himself fill with more power, getting lost in it; the feeling, the strength, the SIZE... only realizing that he was masturbating through his clothes when he heard glass shatter back in the lab. His concern for his co-workers and the artifacts bringing him back to reality. He ran back to the lab, his footsteps sounding more powerful and turning him on again. He threw open the door and saw his colleagues going through some very familiar changes. The two who were working on the necklace were all over each other, looking massive, their clothes torn in multiple places looking like hairy giant bodybuilders in heat, a stark difference from the lanky lab technicians they had been hours ago. His partner wasn't as far along in his transformation, seemingly resisting it, pouring sweat, and grunting as he tried to remove the necklace from the book without and success. The smell in the room was intoxicating, and it was visibly dissolving his partners last pieces of resistance as they made eye contact with each other and with a final pleading look, before being overwhelmed with lust and ripping their pants open at the crotch, giving in to the power. Grunting and moaning as he flexed and grew out of the rest of his clothes. The back of his shirt practically exploding as his giant hairy lats shredded the fabric. His biceps and forearms ripping down the seam in one fluid tear as he flexed. His chest puffing out as hair spread up over his cobblestone abs and up over the vast pecs. Finally roaring as his growing cock came buckets as it grew through the torn up pants and underwear. His partner looked up and they made eye contact again but this time, there was no innocence, there was only lust. ~~~~~~~ Shaking himself out of the memory before getting more aroused and moving his hand away from his raging hard-on, he decided that his only hope was to try to remove the necklace from the book and hope that it would do something so all of them could regain their clarity of mind. Opening the cabinet to get a better listening perspective; The sounds from the other room had stopped a few minutes ago, and panic began to set in. Had the muscle monsters been able to open the exit doors that he couldn't seem to find anymore? Had they just broken down the wall? With that thought he flexed his larger arm, ripping the fabric of his lab coat slightly, thinking of how powerful and amazing the others had looked before he ran away. But he felt more resolved to fix everything now after seeing the look that his partner had given him. That was not the same person that he had been working with for years after he transformed, there was a look of primal hunger with not even a sliver of the person he had previously been. He crept down the hallway, listening the whole way, almost anticipating turning a corner and being face to face with the beasts, but it never happened. Where were they? He made it back to their lab and smelled that sweet aroma from before. He closed his eyes and moaned quietly as he felt his legs slowly grow through the fabric of his pants, leaving him in his threadbare, pre soaked boxers, stretched tight across his quads with the head of his dick poking out through the left leg. He opened his eyes and made his way towards the book as his back widened and thickened, ripping his shirt and coat together down the middle, exposing his extraordinary hairy back. He subconsciously bounced his pecs and grunted as more buttons popped off, showing off his mountainous, hairy chest and powerful core as his body stretched upwards to make room more more muscle. Arriving at the book he grabbed it, not seeing the 3 other figures squeezing into the room, inhumanly large and muscular, and watching him from behind. As he lifted the book up to himself to get a closer look, his larger arms decimated his sleeves, leaving him in just his quickly tightening underwear. With one fluid motion, he easily pulled the necklace from the book, placing the book back on the table and holding the necklace in his hands, waiting for something to change, his mind being overwhelmed with the feeling of raw power pouring into his body. He looked at the necklace once more as his mind slipped away, and placed it around his neck as his body surged in size. Roaring out loud as he turned to face his subjects as his dick ripped out and let loose a torrent of aromatic cum as he reveled in growing bigger and stronger, BIGGER and STRONGER, becoming the largest of the group as the other 3 started to chant in the language they had heard before, all of them continuing to grow until they were larger than the room and walked into the nearby forest, very strong smelling cum leaking out of the largest's massive cock, leaving a trail for those unfortunate (or fortunate) enough to come across it to follow. Shortly after, 2 other behemoths arrive at the building and take the book out of the rubble of the destroyed room, placing it carefully outside of the destruction with a new necklace and a note for the police to find. I hope that read okay. I just felt like writing a new story and this is how it came out. I hope it's interesting enough and has enough growth, I really wanted to try and write a story with no character names and still establish an engaging story. Anyway, thank you for reading, and have a good day
    26 points
  16. Chapter 8 - The Mechanic “Let’s head up to the loft” Terry suggested after initial introductions and conversation. I would later learn that the Huang Twins were second generation Vietnamese who grew up in the Asia-town area of southeast Houston. They had been outstanding competitive gymnasts at the University of Houston and they both kept their bodies in competition shape. The twins were identical in every way except Tony had a more militaristic crewcut and Terry had a trendier cut with long curly hair on top tapered down on each side. The loft space turned out to be a well-designed, leather playroom with slings, monitors playing rough man on man porn, and one wall with a large assortment of dildos of various colors and astonishing shapes and sizes! There were additional restraint devices, modified sex furniture, and a cage in one corner. The Huang twins were submissive little freaks, and I was anxious to get the action started. Tony practically attacked David’s foot long, down on his knees servicing the giant club with his hands and eager mouth. They were positioned by one of the slings and David nodded to me to take the other one. I stripped off my clothes and grabbed Terry’s hard ass and pulled him in tight. My hairy pecs rubbed against his ultra-smooth muscular chest and my thick juicy pole slid in between his solid thighs. I easily picked him up and his legs immediately wrapped around my torso. My cock was now positioned right at his hole, and I reached around and to guide it to the target. But Terry had other ideas, as he released his leg lock and dropped to the floor. “I want you to spank me daddy, I’ve been really bad.” Terry said with a very mischievous look on his face. I bent down and threw him over my left shoulder and carried him over to a workbench. Letting him down as I sat down on the bench and said, “Assume the position boy, daddy is going to hand out your punishment.” Terry immediately stretched out over my knees, face down, and his sexy, muscled ass in the air. I placed my right hand on each glute, going back and forth, feeling the fine muscular ass, and delaying the spanking thus building up his anticipation. I then raised my palm and gave him ten hard smacks on each glute in rapid fire succession. The sound of hand to ass competing with his loud cries from the sudden onslaught of pain filled the loft. I stopped the abuse and lightly rubbed the now reddened ass with a firm, commanding stroke. My left hand grabbed the back of his neck keeping him locked in position as I quickly repeated the series of ten hard smacks to each side of his now fully reddened ass. As I was preparing for the next round of abuse, it suddenly hit me from deep inside my being. It started in that primal part of my brain and flooded every inch of my body like a tidal wave rolling through me. I HAD TO FUCK! Right now! The drive to ram my cock in a tight hole was so overwhelming and demanding that nothing could distract me from the singular Superdrive that had taken over my body. I was a horned-up animal needing to dominate a hole with my thick cock until I exploded inside. I practically threw Terry into the sling and spit on his little pink hole before ramming my 8-inch long, beer can thick rod inside him. I gave him just a moment to adjust to the size of my thick throbbing meat, but he didn’t need long as he was an experienced bottom and ready for the aggressive pounding to come. Fifteen, Twenty, then Thirty minutes of nonstop pounding of his muscled ass and I was not even close to shooting my load. My muscular body was covered in sweat and the smell of my pits and hard fucking had caused Terry to cum multiple times, but he stayed in the game and kept taking my brutal assault on his hole. Finally, as we were coming up on the hour-long mark, I felt my heavy balls rise up and the impending orgasm start to build. Deep grunts erupting from my hairy chest with each thrust, I shook off the sweat and threw the pounding frequency into a higher gear, increasing my rapid pumps to a high-speed thrusting causing Terry to scream out in ecstasy, "Pound my hole, daddy!" My balls tightened and the cum erupted up my aggressive cock and blasted the inside of that hole with load after load of my muscle cum. I just kept pounding his ass, rapid fire, never stopping my power stride for a second as I completely flooded his hole and my cum was being forced out and spraying everywhere with each penetration. I KEPT FUCKING! The Superdrive was still in control and round two of the assault on this beautiful gymnast’s ass continued onward at a rapid pace for another 45 minutes before the second wave of my orgasm hit. This one was even more potent than the first with the volume of cum I released exploding out of his hole and soaking the area below us. I realized then that Tony and David were both kneeling below the sling and were guzzling up my load as it escaped from Terry’s ravaged hole. I KEPT FUCKING! I started round 3 but Terry was begging to tag out and Tony was begging to tag in. The gymnast twins quickly swapped places and I rammed my steel hard pole deep in Tony’s stretched and gaping hole. David had done some damage with his foot-long club cock and prepped this hole well for my forceful power fuck. I had now been fucking nonstop for over 2 hours and yet I felt like I was just getting started. The need was still as strong and my stamina unlimited, I had to fuck! I think I had 3 or 4 more orgasms over the next 2 hours as I completely dominated and ruined Tony’s hole as I maneuvered and manhandled his flexible, muscular body around the playroom. The sun had come up and both twins were now exhausted from both David and me. I KEPT FUCKING! David came over and aggressively pulled me out of Tony’s hole, “enough daddy, we need to go.” I looked up at his beautiful face and said, “I can’t explain it son, but I need to fuck! We have to find another ass soon.” He pulled out his phone and did some quick typing and messaging back and forth as he ordered me to put on my clothes. I did as he instructed but the fabric touching my fat head was too much so I dropped the waistband below my balls and grabbed my tank in my hand. I looked over at the twins, both were awake, but in a euphoric state of bliss and could barely move. I NEED TO FUCK! The Superdrive commanded again. “Let’s go, daddy.” David ordered and we headed downstairs and out of the back door of the garage to our car. I buckled up and didn’t speak, both of my hands were milking my fat log trying to mimic the fuck sensation and feed the Superdrive what it needed. All of the windows were down as I was a pumped-up sweaty mess and the stank of my pits would’ve sent David into a catatonic state. We sped through the morning traffic as I continued masturbating my rod. I remember looking up at a tow truck driver when we were at a traffic light, and he was smiling watching me fist fuck my fat cock. Other drivers would look over as we continued onward, but I didn’t care. I was so focused on my throbbing cock. Another traffic light, a hunky UPS driver with muscles bulging out of his uniform. That did it...Boom! Ropes of cum shot out of my meaty rod flying through the opened sunroof and back again on my chest and head like the Bellagio Fountains. David hit the gas and I kept shooting loads. I NEED TO FUCK! The Superdrive kept commanding. “We’re here” David said as he put the car in park in the covered driveway of a single-story house. I kept one hand stroking my dick as we walked through the unlocked back door, through a kitchen and into a living room. Nick, the power-bottom bodybuilder, was on all fours wearing only a tight jockstrap, his huge muscled ass ready to be mounted. I KEPT FUCKING!
    26 points
  17. Chapter 6 Dr. Kim fell to the ground, writing and clawing at her neck. I went into a full panic, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. “What the fuck did you do that for?!” I yelled at Dane. Dane was looking down at the doctor in fear. “I don’t know, I just… dunno, I panicked.” He said. There was a gasping noise as the doctor tore the top buttons out of her shirt. I could see she’d been struggling as her neck had already thickened significantly, and the collar must have been choking her. “The formula…” she gasped out between huge breaths, “it was never meant to be used on a woman…” As she writhed on the ground, her hands kept clasping at buttons trying to loosen the material, but her hands had grown so much already that they almost looked comical on her and she clearly wasn’t used to their size. The material of her shirt grew tighter and tighter until she no longer needed to fumble with clumsy hands, as one by one the buttons flew off like tiny bullets. Her shirt fell open exposing her torso. Already thick meaty abs were bulging out from her core, and her back was flaring widely like a cobra’s hood. A simple black bra was struggling to conceal an ample chest which was becoming more ample by the second as tremendous pecs ballooned out behind her breasts. With a deep, guttural roar, her chest exploded larger and the bra gave way entirely exposing the round breasts and large, dark nipples now basically hanging off her otherwise fatless chest. Her arms curled into a double bicep pose as sinew and muscle stormed down them, swelling her biceps and triceps into the size of car tyres, and her forearms into huge swollen slabs of beef. All over her as the growth surged up and down her once meagre figure, veins were bursting forth in thick networks of ropes. Her heartbeat was rapid and clearly visible over every inch of her body. As the unnaturally thick veins spread, I noticed that with them, her skin was also changing. Marks of age and sunspots faded as wrinkles were pulled taut. Despite her screams of agony, or possibly ecstasy, her whole face looked younger. Her plain pencil skirt gave way without much resistance as her legs were forced apart by the rapid expansion of her quads. Deep ridges plunged between the separations of muscles as they rose up from nowhere. I hadn’t noticed since she was lying on the ground but she must have stretched at least two feet taller already. I could no longer see her face as her pecs and muscle tits had expanded so high and round that her face was out of view. The huge doctor was now wearing nothing but a small, lacey pair of underwear which was already under considerable pressure from the massive glutes pushing her pelvis upward. In that moment I saw something that made my stomach jump to my throat; the lacey material wasn’t just bulging at the back, something was clearly in the front. With another roar of discomfort, a huge, meaty hand larger than my whole head came down and shredded off the underwear with one swift motion. I wanted to avert my eyes but they were drawn like watching a car crash. The doctor’s vulva was being forced open and a huge, swollen red clitoris was expanding outward. After growing an inch or two, I saw those same enormous veins spring up beneath the clitoris, and it pushed outwards further. I realised the implications even if I didn’t want to; the formula wasn’t just a steroid, it rewrote DNA, specifically to produce a perfect male specimen. I watched as more of her flesh contorted and her clitoris split open, forming a full cock. The skin beneath where her vagina had been ballooned and in second a ball sack had formed. Dr. Kim didn’t last as a well-endowed man for long, before ascending into godhood. There were two surprisingly loud fleshy thuds as the growing balls passed huge and moved onto colossal and cumbersome. I was in shock as I noticed I was now looking up to see the tip of the monster’s cock. From where her, no, his, glutes touched the floor to the tip of his cock was now taller than my whole body, which was around 6 feet. The absolute freak began to shift and clumsily got to his feet. His face had undergone as much of a change as his body. The plain, middle-aged woman was gone, replaced by a hypermasculine façade. His jaw was thick, sharply defined, and wide, and his chin stuck out prominently. His brow-line was huge and gave an almost caveman-like feeling to his face, but in an incredibly sexy way. His long, black hair dripped with sweat and fell in sheets over his face. However, it was hard to appreciate his face. While not quite reaching the height of the ball of muscle and flesh at the centre of the room, Dr. Kim now easily towered over Dane by several feet. The top couple of feet at least were, however, a sheer overwhelming wall of trapezius muscle. His head looked like it was jutting out from a few feet down. No neck was discernible as the powerful jaw sat atop huge pecs which still bore a striking resemblance to breasts. In fact, I could clearly see what looked like milk dripping from the massive, deep brown tits, clearly under pressure from the sheer volume of muscle above them. There was a splattering noise, and my eyes were drawn down, past the bulging roid gut, to the doctor’s cock. It was pulsing with thick veins and rock hard, and was visibly larger than my whole body on its own. The enormous testicles were literally resting on the floor despite the giant’s enormous stature. Pre was dripping out the end of the massive cock and splattering on the floor like a shower left half-on. In a swift motion, the doctor lashed out. I jumped back instinctively, but he wasn’t aiming for me. In a second, he had both hands on Dane, who, despite his own godlike strength, was overpowered with no effort from the doctor. He was spun around and quickly bent over. In a flash Dane’s makeshift clothing was off, and his enormous striated ass was exposed and spread wide. With another bestial roar, the doctor took several steps forwards, plunging his freakish cock deep into Dane, who roared out in harmony. As I watched, his eyes rolled back into his head with pleasure and spatterings of precum flew every which way. “FUCK YES” they roared together.
    25 points
  18. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 1 “What the fuck was that?” I asked after I closed the front door. It had been two years since Jason had done Curtis’s reality show. The show had had some decent success, largely due to Jason’s presence. He was by far the biggest celebrity on the show—and I mean both in star power and in muscle mass. They must have edited around Jason crying because they never showed him cry even once. I suspect they didn’t want to show the superhero bawling like a six-year-old because he missed his boyfriend. The show, however, got drowned out in the throng of other reality shows and wasn’t renewed for a second season. I was finally done with the Death Knell series. The last book had been a huge seller—not quite eclipsing the first book in the series, but nipping at its heels. I was relieved it was over. Jason loved the last book but mourned the end of the franchise; he pouted for a week when he finished reading it. On at least eighteen different occasions, he tried to sexually coerce me into writing an eleventh one, even if I never released it to the public. It never worked, but I let him try all eighteen times. I was currently working on more one-off novels under my real name and a script for a Hollow Maple mini-series for Hulu. That book trilogy had gotten a lot more attention in the last few years as an “undiscovered gem.” The online community was as strong as it had ever been, and only growing, so there was definitely a market for it. Their current obsession was trying to track down Gloria Bowman and find out why she had never written any other books. Jason’s career was as big as it ever was. His turn as Scott in that small movie got him a lot of awards show love. He didn’t get an Oscar nod, but twenty different magazines called it the “biggest snub of the season.” Jason didn’t care; he was just happy to have been in the movie. And that was just the tip of his crackerjack career. The first superhero movie had been incredible; it blew everyone, including me, away. The sequel was, sadly, a piece of shit. But it was a profitable piece of shit, so it bolstered his career too, just not in the way he hoped. Ever since he’d gotten huge and done the superhero movies, everyone wanted him for action movies even though he wanted to go back to doing dramas and romantic comedies. After six months of auditioning for action movie after action movie after action movie, he grew tired and started pursuing TV roles. His agent flipped a gasket, but Jason was tired of being pigeonholed. He was sure he’d do more movies in the future, but for now, TV felt right. ABC snapped him up immediately. Jason was the male lead of a tawdry legal drama where he played a brooding, womanizing lawyer who used to be a brooding, womanizing singer. The show was essentially a soap opera with a veneer of legal drama sprinkled on top. Jason’s character slept with most of the female characters (including a judge) and was shirtless every other episode. It was a cheesy, campy, low-quality show that appealed to the lowest common denominator. I’m not going to lie: it was my favorite fucking show on TV. And I got to fuck the leading man regularly. And get fucked by him. Jason actually believed in the show, in part because they let him sing; I, on the other hand, thought it was so bad that it cycled back to amazing. Either way, we were both happy that his schedule had calmed down and he was, for all intents and purposes, home every day at the same time. I had moved into Jason’s house immediately after Curtis’s show had wrapped. Now that we lived together, and now that Jason’s schedule was calmer, things felt settled. Jason, when out of the house—especially when filming—was a ripped and shredded 185, but when he came home to me, I’d give him back his deposit, and he’d blow up to his full, real, 252 pounds. In the lead up to the superhero sequel, even after he’d left Curtis’s boot camp, he’d seriously tried to get as big as possible, but we realized soon enough that without significant, illegal, and possibly health-threatening methods, he naturally couldn’t get past 230. He was grateful we’d found a loophole to keep him swollen above his natural max. It also gave him an excuse to have two entirely separate wardrobes: one for his public size, and one for his real size. When Jason was home and I had no deposits, I was 300—enough to paradigmatically outclass Jason, the way we both liked it. We decided that, out of a sense of fairness, I had to stay above my 272 base line. I had to work out as hard as him, watch my food as much as him, etc. I didn’t mind because our gym time together was some of my favorite time with him, even if he did drag his feet every time we got ready to go work out. Of course, this also means Jason routinely beefed me up to 370 pounds—367 to be exact. In fact, I spent most of my days at that massive size. Most people (including H. K.) thought I was just always 370 pounds of muscular immensity all the time. Even my parents thought I was 370 all the time. Even Jason’s family (who absolutely adored me, including his asshole older brother) thought Jason was just 185 and I was a behemoth 370. In other words, those who didn’t know I was The Repository thought that I was twice Jason’s size. Those who knew better, like Jonah and Shafe, got to know Jason at his real hulking size. They were impressed, and he liked having people he could show it off to. And I hadn’t fizzed in years. We were stupidly happy in love, and then we’d had that visit from Shafe. Shafe had just placed second at Olympia, likely his last time competing—the closest he had ever come to winning. He’d come over to see us, saying he had an important announcement. We assumed he was announcing his retirement from competitive bodybuilding, but it had been an entirely different announcement. “Marietta and I are getting married,” he crowed. Then he put his hand on my shoulder and added, “And I want you to be my best man.” Resisting the urge to swat away his hand, I hurriedly (if unenthusiastically) said, “Sure.” Pause. “Yes.” Pause. “Of course.” You don’t say no to a thing like that. But as soon as he was out of the house, I closed the door, turned to Jason and said, “What the fuck was that?” “It’s an honor,” Jason said flatly, not entirely believing it, too surprised by the announcement to come up with a better response. “It’s an obligation. I’ll have to give a speech at the wedding.” “You’re a writer. That won’t be hard for you.” “You know Shafe. He’ll get me involved in planning the whole wedding, and he’ll need it to line up with his Chakras or something.” “You are an organizational genius,” Jason soothed. “You’ll adapt. I don’t know how you or Lacey do it.” “I’ll have to throw a bachelor party for a straight man.” Exhaling, Jason admitted, “Yeah. That part’s gonna suck.” “Glad we’re finally on the same side.” “Always,” Jason averred. “So, you agree that their marriage is out of the blue, right?” “No, sorry. I wasn’t agreeing to that,” Jason said, shaking his head. “Their marriage makes sense. They’re head over heels in love. They complement each other perfectly. And they’ve been together for as long as I’ve known either one of them.” “I knew Shafe in his 20s. He was a ladies’ man—practically a fuckboy. I can’t count the number of women he’s been with. He makes me, even with my past of one night stands, look like a priest. I never thought he’d get married. Never. I know he’s been with Marietta for a while, but…” I trailed off. “They’ve been together for over two years,” Jason reminded me. In a conciliatory tone, Jason continued. “While you and Shafe were talking best man stuff, Marietta pulled me aside. She’s a Canadian, not an American citizen, so Uncle Sam put them through the wringer, making sure it wasn’t a green card marriage. On top of that, Shafe’s father, the Shafer who controls the family’s money, wanted to make sure she wasn’t a gold digger, so he put them through a second wringer. They’ve been thoroughly wrung out. It took them months to get through all of that, or they would’ve gotten married last year.” “This just blows my mind. We’ve been together longer than they have. If they’re getting married…” I trailed off again. Trying to distract me, Jason chuckled and jokingly said, “Paula and H. K. think we secretly got married two years ago in Vancouver. They think that’s why we went public with the red carpet kiss. She’s constantly pressuring me to see wedding photos.” “H. K and Paula, Jonah and Cole, and now Shafe and Marietta. Are all of our friends married?” We went through our list of friends, and every single one of them was married or engaged. “This makes no sense,” I said. “We’re at that age,” Jason replied, shrugging. I groaned in frustration. “This is ridiculous. Are we really the only unmarried people in our social circle?” “Looks like it,” Jason said, patting my foot. “If that bothers you,” he continued, “we can get married. I never thought I would, but I’m not opposed to the idea. As long as we’re together, I don’t care.” “I love you. I’m never going to leave you. That’s enough for me,” I admitted. “If we needed to combine finances, or if one of us didn’t have health insurance, or if we had kids—heaven forbid—I could see getting married. I understand why gay people had to fight for the right. It was important; it was necessary. But getting married just because everyone else is? That feels silly. It also feels thoroughly heterosexual.” Jason forced me to look into his eyes. I wasn’t used to Jason being so serious, so I listened intently. “Is my career why you don’t want to get married? Are you worried that, if we got married, people will find out you’re The Repository? That Jason Prentiss can’t get married without it becoming a big hoopla that attracts a media circus?” I nodded slightly, saying, “It’s on the list. It’s not high on the list, but it’s on the list.” “If you marry me, I will keep your secret safe, as I have these past two years. It will be our secret. And our wedding can be as big or as small as you want it to be.” “What are you saying?” Jason ran into his study and came back out with a ring box. “I bought this a month after you moved in.” He pulled the ring out of the box. It was plain and unadorned bright gold, practically warm to the touch. Its weirdest feature? It slid bigger and smaller. When I pulled on it slightly, it telescoped out into a bigger circle. “It adjusts size, Miles. Like you. I had it specially made. That way, you could wear it no matter how big you are.” “And you’ve just had this?” “This, and a matching one for me. It doesn’t change sizes as impressively, but it does change size. You didn’t want to get married, and I was sure you wouldn’t leave me, so I didn’t care if we never did. I still don’t. But I also knew you might change your mind someday. So, I had them made so I could propose to you on the spot if the need arose.” “And if I don’t want to get married?” I asked. “Then we’ll stay together forever anyways. You’re not getting rid of me. I’m not going anywhere.” “Me either,” I said, sighing in relief. With that reassurance behind us, I was free to plan Shafe’s bachelor party and help with the wedding. Jason largely stayed out of it because of his TV schedule and not wanting to steal the engaged couple’s thunder. Shafe, thankfully, liked the bachelor party I threw him. Shafe doesn’t drink, so many—practically all—traditional bachelor party activities were crossed off the list. His friends, cousins, and father were not the best planners, so they provided no help. And, as a gay guy, my taste in nude female entertainment is based largely on educated guesses. In the end, I came up with a plan. We started with a steak dinner where all his friends got uproariously drunk (Shafe and I had iced tea). Then, we moved on to a strip club. Shafe complimented my choice of venue. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I found it on Yelp and then asked the straight male proprietor to help me arrange the specifics (I was desperate and flying blind by that point). After most of his friends and family were wiped out from the events of the evening, half of them snoring, I took Shafe to see a psychic. I’d put in a lot of work finding this guy. He was the only psychic out of the thirty I had interviewed who could correctly identify what color my aura was. He gave Shafe a private reading (that Shafe infuriatingly kept private), and then we rejoined the few of his friends who were still awake. At the end of the evening, Shafe gave me a best man’s present. “You’re hard to get gifts for, Vaughn. My dad said I should get you a gold watch, that it was traditional. But I don’t want you to die. Giving a watch as a gift? Unbelievably bad luck. It just tells the universe I’m counting the minutes until you drop dead. I don’t know what my old man was thinking.” “Neither do I,” I echoed, just going along with it. “Then, I asked my cousins and gym buddies, and they said I was supposed to get you a blow up doll or a private dance with one of the strippers. Something like that,” he said. “But we both agree that’s a bad gift, too.” “Definitely.” “I think you’ll like this more,” he handed me a long, rectangular box. Internally, I repeated to myself, “Please don’t be a dildo. Please don’t be a dildo. Please don’t be a dildo,” as I opened it. When I removed the lid, though, inside was a sunshine yellow bow tie. “I got you one to match your aura. I don’t know what you two do with these things, but I’ve seen the dozens of bow ties in both of your closets. I also know that every time he sends you a picture of a bow tie, you run right the fuck home. The next morning, you have a huge smile on your face.” That was almost sweet. Then, slightly under his normal speaking volume and far more rapidly than he normally spoke, he added, “Is it bondage? My guess is that you tie each other up with bow ties. Or maybe tie off your junk. Something like that. Is it bondage? You can tell me if it’s bondage. Marietta thinks it’s some sort of Chippendale’s striptease thing since you’re both muscular hunks.” Done with his rapid fire, he wrapped his arm around my shoulder conspiratorially and asked, “Is one of us right?” I knew that the real story, that it was nothing more than a cute inside joke, would disappoint him, and tonight was supposed to be about him. So, I said something that I thought would make him happy: “If I told you, you’d be jealous that you couldn’t do it with Marietta.” He shouted an “Oh!” and punched me on the shoulder, pleased beyond measure with my non-answer. All in all, I’m sure I would’ve enjoyed Marietta’s bachelorette party better. They got drunk in a hotel room, sang karaoke, and hired a stripper I would’ve had an opinion on. When I got back from Shafe’s bachelor party, I found Jason on the couch in his study, mindlessly shoving handfuls of pretzels in his face. There was an empty box that once held doughnuts sitting next to him. That meant he’d been at this for a while. I was instantly worried I was walking into a minefield. “What’s wrong, Jason?” I asked. He pulled a magazine out from under the couch and threw it at me. It was a trashy gossip tabloid, like the kind by the checkout of a supermarket. On the cover was the picture of Jason and me kissing on the red carpet. In big letters, the headline said: “JASON PRENTISS IS GETTING MARRIED!"
    25 points
  19. Chapter 5 - The Trainer We pulled into the parking lot of the gym where David and I will be training, and my eyes lit up. I knew of this gym from some Bodybuilders that I followed on Instagram. David said, “Yea, there’s some big dudes here. A lot of the pros train here and train their clients so it’s a good mix of hardcore and newbies, it is for men only and plus there are the muscle admirers.” he added with a wink. He grabbed both of our gym bags and threw them over his thick delts. When I objected, he barked, “I’m the boss here and you’ll do exactly what I tell you to do without any whiny ass objections, understood?” The dominant delivery and forthright tone startled me for a second. “Yes Sir!” I responded with a smile, happy as hell that I was finally going to have a real trainer to work with me and damn, what a sexy dominant stud he was! The gym was a 2-story, rectangular shaped, open warehouse with one side all windows which looked out onto an outdoor equipment area. The slower afternoon hour had a few members working out but there were a lot of huge bodybuilders hanging out in the lounge area all with their own food containers and shakes gulping down meal 4 or 5 for the day. Unlike most chain fitness facilities, the dress code here was to cover your dick and ass, the rest is up to you. Some of the bodybuilders had on tanks and shorts, but most were shirtless, and I stopped in my tracks to take in all the herd of muscle beasts in one location. “Move it!” barked my new trainer, shaking me out of my transfixed position. The next 2 hours were grueling hard work as he put me through the toughest full body workout I had ever experienced. I learned quickly to keep my eyes and my mind focused on the lift or on my trainer. He always demanded my full attention. Each time my eyes strayed to check out one of the monsters around me, David would be in my face like a drill sergeant! A few minutes after 5 pm, when I felt like my body was at the breaking point, David finally said, “Good job, muscle daddy! Go wash your hands and then we will go to the lounge area for your after-workout shake.” I tried to keep pace with his stride towards the men’s room but my body was too exhausted and my muscles were so pumped that movement was slow and constricted. I entered the restroom and quickly found the urinal as I had to release all the water that David had forced in me during our session. It was one of those big metal troughs you used to see in sports arenas and thankfully it was empty when I pulled up and released my steel pipe of a cock from my sweaty shorts that was standing at full attention. The whiff of sweat from my balls hit my nose and caused my cock to throb harder as I tried to focus on releasing the pent-up piss from my bladder. Waterfalls, rivers, running water, all images flashed through my mind to trigger the release and finally the jet of urine came out and hit the upper steel wall side of the trough with a loud thud. Ah, release, that felt so good to be holding my thick meat with my right hand holding down the erection ensuring I was pissing straight ahead and not up to the ceiling. A mountain of muscle walked up next to me on my right and plopped out his dick. I did the subtle side glance and nod. He was clearly one of the trainer bodybuilders, my height but probably in the upper 280’s with muscles bulging in every direction. Whatever small size penis he was holding was blocked from my quick glance by his hand and thick forearm. In the split second that I turned to make eye contact and nod; I saw that his eyes were locked in on my rock-hard cock spewing piss like an open fire hydrant. “Damn Daddy, you got to be careful with that big bat!” the bodybuilder said with a smirk, “You could do some real damage.” I gave it a playful tug and replied, “yep, lifting weights always gets me all horned up.” By now, my bladder had finally emptied, and I gave my log the customary few strokes to eliminate the last drops of piss. Bodybuilder’s eyes never strayed. I gave the big dick a few more strokes enjoying the heftiness in my hand and the admiration of this huge muscular studboy. “See you around,” I said as I closed up shop and headed over to the sinks. I turned to check out the back side view and this stud’s ass was one for the record books. The sweaty tights clung to his glutes showing the striations and massive round globes of muscle. And the relaxed turtle shell of his back was magnificent with the lats hanging thick on each side then cutting into a tiny waist! Oh Yea, this is my kind of gym. Over to the right was a hallway with five open shower stalls on each side. I thought how odd that there was no door or curtain for privacy. It looked like only one shower was occupied from the huge shadow and steam coming from the last one on the left. Suddenly, I heard this deep voice begin singing and I stopped in my tracks. Couldn’t be? I quietly crept down the short hall until I began to see the massive body in the shower. The huge, wet muscles dominated the size of the stall as he continued to lather up and sing loudly. One more step as I inched closer. It was him! Big John now had his back to me, but I would recognize that gigantic body anywhere! He was so big he had to make quarter turns within the tight space and I quickly retracted so he wouldn’t catch me stalking him. I took a breath and mentally saved all those images in the spank bank for later. But wait, I thought he was on vacation, was that him or not. I looked over towards the locker room and could see David pulling out our gym bags and realized I needed to get moving. I met David at the lockers, and we headed out to the lounge area. He gave me my protein shake and a Tupperware of gummy bears. I was both exhausted and exhilarated at the same time as I gulped down my shake and snack. “I saw Nick eyeing your huge cock at the urinal, that big boy loves to get daddy fucked.” David said nonchalantly but still loud enough for the tables of nearby bodybuilders to hear. I just smiled and nodded back at David as a couple of the huge men turned to check me out. “Drink up, it’s almost 6 pm and i have a surprise for you.” He said with a knowing wink that my deadline for sex was almost here. The precum faucet roared forth causing a darker stain in my sweaty shorts as my aching meat begged for release.
    24 points
  20. Chapter 3 - The Orderly I woke up to the sound of Nurse Eddie flipping on the brutal overhead fluorescent lights and chatting nonstop like he typically does every morning. “Beautiful morning and time to wake up and make it the best day of your life…” He was a walking and talking nonstop plethora of hallmark cards and inspirational posters. As my only male gay nurse, we had a great connection and chatted for hours most days. Except he knew I was not a morning person and right now I hated him with every fiber of my being. As he raised my bed forcing me to sit upright and become awake to the world, I wondered what the hell happened last night? Was it all a dream? Was it real? I thought back to the last thing I remembered was Big John’s huge, hairy, muscle pits only inches from my face and I could still smell his incredible, manly musk and my cock started to throb. It had to have been real but what happened after that? I looked over at the wall clock and yelled out, cutting off Mr. Sunshine in mid soliloquy, “It is fucking five o’clock in the morning, why are you here?!?” Nurse Eddie froze, looked at me, looked at the clock, slowly walked to my chart clearly searching for an answer. “Ah, here it is, you have a procedure scheduled in one hour with Dr. Malik. I’ll need to get you prepped, shaved, and ready for a pickup at 6 am.” It was real! Oh my god, this is really happening! Immediately my typical sour attitude changed, and a huge smile spread on my face. “Now, that’s what I like to see.” Nurse Eddie said obviously speaking of my positive change in facial expressions. Instead, he yanked back my cover sheet and stood eyeing my throbbing hard cock. Surprised by the sudden exposure and reflexively reaching out for the covers, I stopped and also stared at my rock-hard boner. It was my dick, and yet it wasn’t. The length was just a little bit longer and the usual curve to the left had disappeared as it was pointing due north, straight as a steel pipe. But the biggest change was the increased thickness of the entire rod from base to flared head. I had always had a skinny pole, but this was a fat, throbbing, man’s cock with huge, angry veins running around the shaft and a mushroom head that was shiny with pre-cum. “This means you are getting sensation and connections in your lower extremities!” Nurse Eddie rattled on and on about my improvement and outlook for the future. All the while I fought the urge to grab my new thick meat with both hands and test drive the new model. '`Do you need to urinate before I start shaving you?” he said, bringing over the handheld urinal. “Wait, looks like I need to get the larger one, I didn’t realize you were such a grower!” He winked, still eyeing my fat cock. He quickly slipped out of the door, and I grabbed my meat with both hands feeling the newfound thickness forcing my grip so wide to where my fingers could not touch. Sweet baby jeebuz, this was a real man-sized cock and one I had dreamt of all my life. I gave it a quick stroke and then forced myself to release knowing that Nurse Eddie would return at any second. He returned with a larger topped urinal followed by the hunky Latino orderly, Juan, who I had been lusting after for weeks. Nurse Eddie handed me the urinal and asked Juan to take the covers to the hamper and then return to help him turn me over. They did all this, walking and talking, professionally doing their duties; but all the while their eyes were locked on my massive hard cock. Never being the shy one, I twisted my upper body to the right, forcing my unresponsive lower body to follow. Grabbed the large top urinal and slowly stroked my steel pipe with my left hand trying to aim the meaty head to the opening. “Juan, would you mind holding the urinal for me, this thing needs both hands to hold it steady?” In a flash, Juan was by my bedside and his large hands grabbing the urinal and holding it directly in the line of fire. I grabbed my engorged cock and aimed at the opening like I was at a county fair trying to raise the clown’s face with a water gun blasting the bullseye. Closed my eyes and let loose a stream of piss that hit the back of the urinal with a loud thud. As I continued releasing, the gallon sized urinal was almost ¾ full when Juan said, “I think we might need a backup or are you almost done?” I could tell my bladder was almost empty and I let him know no need to panic. With a few final strokes, I squeezed out the last of it and rolled my body back to the upright flat position. Juan capped my gallon sized urinal. Nurse Eddie retrieved the full urinal and said, “the horse cock pissed like a racehorse!” Emptying my bladder had no impact on my morning wood and all eyes were still locked on my throbbing cock. The precum faucet had turned back on and was causing a river of clear fluid to leak out of the slit across the fat head and down the side of the upright pole. Just then, Eddie’s phone buzzed, and he turned abruptly heading for the door. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes; Juan please assist the patient’s needs while I’m away.” The door closed and I turned to look at Juan who was still transfixed and I said in my deepest voice, “get over here boy and suck daddy’s fat cock!” His full lips and tongue were swallowing my meat in an instant. He was moaning and working my rod from tip to base, swallowing every inch deep in his throat. I’m not sure who was enjoying this more, the cock or the cocksucker! I watched as he teased the fat head with his tongue, licking the sensitive underside and then swallowing the entire 7+ inches to the base of my pubes. I could slightly feel his teeth scraping against me and I realized my dick was getting even thicker. He pulled off and grabbed the base with his hand, stroking my cock and licking the apple sized head. “It’s so big Papi” he moaned as he continued trying and failing to swallow the gigantic head of my cock. I could feel my balls pulling up and I murmured in ecstasy that I was about to shoot. He pounded my cock faster and placed his open mouth as the target for my release. The first shot was the longest, thickest rope of mancum that I have ever shot, lasting for several seconds in a steady release hitting the back of his hungry throat. The second, third, fourth, all stronger and longer than the previous until the fifth hit like I was driving cum into his mouthhole for at least 10 seconds. The ropes kept flying out and I lost count as the waves of euphoria took over me. Breathing heavy, I finally came back to focus and looked down at a smiling Juan licking the last drops of my cum leaking out of the fat head. “Wow Papi, that was amazing!” You’re telling me, I laughed and said, “thanks you were incredible and that felt so good!” Juan went to grab a warm cloth and we both stopped for a second when we realized my thick cock was still standing at full attention. Just then, Nurse Eddie entered and said, “I thought I told you to take care of that thing!” We both laughed and brought him up to speed, even though I felt satisfied I guess my dick wanted more attention. “Well, we don’t have time for round two. Help me flip him over so I can prep his lower back for the procedure.” Lying on my stomach, my new ultra-thick dick felt good throbbing on my abs and I couldn’t resist the grinding motion that increased the sensitivity. Eddie would repeatedly tell me to be still. Big John then entered the room, I couldn’t see him from my position, but I knew it was him from that intoxicating musk that filled the room. “Good morning, Jason”, damn his voice was so deep, “I have the anesthesiologist with me, and he will administer some medications to relax you before we take you over to our clinic.” I could see Juan to my side and his mouth was agape in awe of Big John and his uncut cock was stretched hard across his right hip. Wish I had played with that big dick when I had the chance. I think there were some more introductions and conversations, and I wanted to ask Big John what had happened last night and how did my cock get so thick and my orgasm so massive and... but honestly, I don’t remember anything after the liquid cocktail hit my IV and I went to my happy place and a restful, deep sleep.
    24 points
  21. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 10 Jason had enough time to ask, “What kind of joke is that?” before the changes began. I felt more flexible, more human, and less overblown with sheer bulk and power, deflating down to a much more manageable size. I could move my legs with ease, I could bend my arms, I could look down freely. I even felt the impossibly heavy tugging at my crotch recede a little bit. I was still massive, but I was a much more reasonable massive. In fact, when my muscles finished shrinking, I would only be 35 pounds more than my default minimum. I looked down and surveyed what I had become. I was used to living my life part-time at 330 pounds, so I was very familiar with what 330 pounds looked like. This was bigger than 330. My pecs protruded noticeably further, my arms bulged into my sides noticeably more, my legs pressed into each other noticeably more. Everything was thicker: back, neck, shoulders, ass—everything. Even my cock was more than I was used to, and I was used to 9 inches with some heavy low-hangers. However, I also lived my life part-time at just shy of 400. 375 is not as big as 400. So, I was bigger than I was used to, and, especially after a brief visit to 600 pounds, I was much smaller than I was used to. I practically felt dainty. All of these thoughts I had almost instantaneously. Because I then looked over at Jason as he began swelling. He was starting from 150 pounds, which was significantly lighter than I was used to him being. That was just at first; then, his muscles were re-inflating into his normal TV-show size. It was lovely to see my hot man back, but it was only a moment because his muscles kept expanding. The next 65 pounds were no surprise either. Whenever we were alone, he stayed at his superhero proportions, so as he swelled up to 250 pounds, he was just becoming my hunky heartthrob again. But then he kept swelling. I noticed it first in his abs. His glorious abs, his most bankable body part. His 8-pack etched in deeper, thicker, fuller, burgeoning with new strength, the separations between each individual muscle becoming thick and deep. His Adonis belt, intercostals, and obliques became more developed and visible, enhancing his V taper and making his waist, which had thickened (just a little), look more cut and defined. His legs also blossomed into new muscle like I’d never seen on Jason before. Soon, his quads were thicker than his waist was, each leg striated and cabled with power and brawn. They pressed into each other as they bloomed even thicker; he had to widen his stance. Those legs looked so inviting. I longed to be crushed between his thighs. Even his calves had developed into swollen balls of steel at the back of his legs, making his legs look like carved stone. He turned around to show me his ass as it rounded out fully. It looked hard as granite and shredded with development, but it grew and developed into a beautiful mass—larger than any ass I’d seen. My own ass had been bigger, and I’d seen videos and pictures, but it was different seeing it live and in the warm flesh, flexing and contracting with no screen mediating the experience. Also, his ass was naturally rounder and shapelier than mine, so his ass looked hotter than mine when mine was that size. The dimple in his right cheek was still there, but with all this mass, it looked more like a crater and accentuated just how full and powerful his ass was. His ass was firm and ripe, and just ripening and firming further, so much so that I longed to take a bite. But I didn’t dare for fear of cracking a tooth. It was the most lick-able, caress-able, fuck-able ass I had ever seen. As he was flaunting his ass, I got a full look at his back as it thickened and widened. The muscles bulged into relief, rolls of powerful flesh bursting from his back in an anatomy of strength and musculature. Again, I’d seen pictures of my own back when it was this big, but to see the ripples and fluctuations as Jason breathed and stabilized himself, bringing the machinery to life in undulating fervor. I could even see his lats widen, making his upper back insanely wide and his waist insanely small. It took all my self-control not to just run my hands all over that steely brawn, but I resisted so I could continue feasting my eyes. Jason turned back around to show me that his lats, easily visible from the front, had pushed his arms to the sides. His shoulders had rounded and hardened, each section of shoulder muscle defined and separate, the fibers finger-thick and visible through the skin. His traps rose up; his neck thickened. There were sunken valleys at the top of his chest as his muscles pulled from his body. And, oh, that chest. His chest rounded out, and filled in deeper, and ballooned outwards, unfurling with meat and beef and brawn. The sinews pressed their way through his skin, creating a striating effect along the surface of his muscles, and the volume of his pecs increased further and more, and more and further. They rounded out so far that they forced his nipples to droop. I wanted to bury my face between those pecs, if there was enough room for my face. I would die in that cleft, and die happily. My chest was impressive; his was a work of art. Jason twitched his arms, which drew my attention to them. His arms had thickened beautifully, pushing into his lats and chest, making him even wider. Each head of the bicep was clearly distinct, and there was a tantalizing vein running down the muscle. His triceps swelled even further outwards in a parabolic sweep, adding even more to his thickness. I could feel the saliva building in my mouth as I stared at those rock-hard arms bulging into full relief. He pulled one up into a flex, and my head nearly exploded. His arm swelled even further up and even further down, the muscle tense and rigid with thick power. At the same time, I could see into his armpit. He, too, had developed that cavern of an armpit, a hollow place filled with hair and pheromones, a socket that jointed his overlarge arm to his overlarge chest with only narrowness between. As he flexed his arm, my eyes drifted downward. His balls were rounding out and hanging more heavily in his sac; his cock had thickened and lengthened. He still wasn’t much of a show-er, but given that, he looked like he was definitely packing, which meant he was really packing. Even his face, that gorgeous face, that star-caliber face had thickened and developed. His cheeks were more severe, his jaw thicker. And all that jet black hair on his chin made him look like a wild, unruly, feral beast. I could see the desire and pleasure light up his soulful brown eyes. As he finished blooming, he smiled, and I nearly melted. A smile that gorgeous on a body that phenomenal. My head spun. And then, it was done. He was fully engorged with borrowed muscle, larger than he’d ever had hoped to be, even with chemical assistance. Breathing and heaving in all of his immensity within arms’ reach. “Thank you,” he said. “This feels amazing.” “This looks amazing,” I said. “We’re each 375, right? The same weight?” I nodded. “Twice as big as you appear on TV. Twice.” “Tired of being the big guy huh?” I smiled. “Don’t forget, we each have a footlong cock, too.” “Who could forget that much meat?” he asked. “Not me,” I responded. “I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth,” Jason said, running his hands over his hairy pecs—his massive, hairy pecs. “But how his this possible? You said you couldn’t lend muscle.” “I can’t. This is a one-time deal.” “Is it because it’s my birthday? Because if this is a result of birthday magic, I might just like birthdays now.” “No. It’s not because of birthday magic. I take a large deposit from you regularly. All-the-time regularly. With the fundamental interconnectedness of all things, my body kind of thinks of those 65 pounds as being part of it, you know? And there was just so much muscle in my body—more than there ever had been, more than I could handle, really—that my body wanted to put it somewhere. And you were the only place I could put it because, again, my body kind of thinks of your body as an extension of itself. But this is a one-shot deal.” I looked at the clock. “A 24-hour deal at that.” “So, it is because of birthday magic,” Jason joked. “The 24-hour deadline is only tangentially related to your birthday. The men I borrowed this extra mass from are expecting their muscles back at midnight tomorrow. I borrowed all that mass for your birthday. It’s coincidence.” “I thought we had the rest of the honeymoon,” Jason said, shifting the focus. “I led you on a little. I thought we’d use the last two or three days of the vacation as a cool down period. Maybe even a slow return to reality. Take some pictures we can actually show our friends and family.” The truth of it dawned on Jason. “You’re giving the genitals back tomorrow too.” I nodded. “You’re saying I better take full advantage of this, then.” “That is what I’m saying,” I confirmed. “So, we should stop talking and start enjoying.” Jason flexed his pecs, and they bulged out hugely, and he vacuumed in his waist, and it shrank to a tiny fraction of what it was, practically defying the laws of physics. “What do you think?” Marveling at his size, I had trouble forming words. All I could manage was, “Fuck me!” “Can do,” Jason said. And he pushed me powerfully, enough to knock me back onto the floor. I wasn’t playing along. He had caught me off-guard, sure, but the push was enough to knock me over. I was 375 pounds of muscle, and he easily knocked me over. Fuck. He grabbed a bottle of lube and coated his dick as it lengthened and hardened into a beautiful 12 inches of engorged flesh. It still looked like his cock, the same relative proportions it always had, the same basic shape, but blown up to amazing dimensions. Once his cock was slick enough, he knelt down, picked up my legs (with no help from me) and put one foot on each shoulder. Then, he was in me. We knew from our sex toy play that I could just—just—take 12 inches inside me, but it was entirely different having that much human flesh up my ass. It was warm and solid—rigid and firm—but it felt alive and vital, not like a silicone toy. I could even feel his heartbeat as he pushed past my prostrate and stretched me wide open, more than he ever had before. “Oh my god, Miles,” he said through gritted teeth. “You are impossibly tight.” “You are impossibly huge,” I corrected. He began panting and puffing. “This feels so intense.” I squeezed his cock with my ass. “Buckle up. It only gets more intense from here.” He shrugged my feet onto the floor on either side of him, then he leaned over me and braced himself on the floor with his arms, his biceps flexing into wide relief. His steely body pressed up against my steely body—his pecs into my pecs, his thighs against my thighs. It was intense and even more sexual than his 12 inches of dick up my ass. When he thrust into me, I felt it. I could feel all the strength and power behind his thrusts. I had never been fucked this hard in my life, and I rode him like a bucking bronco as he fucked me like a jackhammer. Soon, we were both exploding all over each other in an orgasmic explosion of cum and muscle and cock. “Race you to the ocean,” he teased, not even giving us a chance to bask in the afterglow. It was a beautiful starlit night, and as I chased him into the water, I saw the moonlight shine off his massive body, almost ghostly and inhuman in then night air. He looked like a statue come to life. We splashed around in the ocean for a while, but I soon felt sleep’s tug at my eyes. “I need to sleep,” I said. “I have had a big day.” I paused, then repeated, “Big.” “Okay,” he said. I thought he’d pout or protest, but he didn’t put up the slightest fight. We curled up in bed, and for the first time since college, I got to be the little spoon. Jason would spoon me, don’t get me wrong, but it’s just a different experience when the man who’s spooning you is definitively big. I felt his pecs press into my back—they felt gigantic. With his strong arms around me, I felt safe and protected. If there’s a heaven, this is what it felt like, like being embraced by my giant muscle lover with my own giant muscles pressing back into him. I fell asleep all too soon.
    23 points
  22. Chapter 4 - The Driver What a week! To say the procedure was a success would be an understatement as it exceeded all my expectations. I had instantly regained all feeling and control in both legs and was up walking within hours. By the third day I was exercising in the weight room with light weights and high repetitions. Yesterday, I maxed out on barbell squats and leg press at the same levels I was lifting before the accident. My body had completely recovered, and my weight had regained from 185# to 200#, still about twenty pounds less than my typical weight before the accident, in one week! Dr Malik said that was expected as my muscles were brought back by his formula to their previous peak conditioning. I had relocated from the hospital ward to Dr. Malik’s treatment clinic in a nearby building adjacent to the hospital immediately after the procedure. But I had not seen Big John since that morning of my surgery as he and his family had been on vacation in the islands. The thought of Big John in a custom speedo emerging from the ocean caused my aching balls to pulse harder and my rock-hard cock to throb. I refocused on the task at hand and remembered Dr. Malik’s strict orders. “No sex, no masturbation, no orgasm for one week!” While I had dutifully complied, my subconscious and my fat cock had not. I awoke each morning to underwear soaked in jizz from the vivid wet dreams I had every night of orgies of bodybuilders in a nonstop dreamscape of muscle-on-muscle fucking. Dr. Malik said the nighttime release was fine and was the body's way of healing and reestablishing connections. All I know is I could not wait to grab this fat meat and release my aching balls of their seed. I was a walking, dripping, fully armed tomahawk missile primed for liftoff! I finished packing up my few items in the new backpack and put on the new tank top, shorts, and athletic shoes that Dr. Malik had provided for me. The clothes were all a little too big and loose, but he had said, “Don’t worry, you’ll be growing out of these in no time”. Even the size 12 shoes were larger than my standard size 11’s I had been wearing all of my adult life. Then I flashbacked to Big John’s gigantic feet and wondered what size he wore and why did that make another big glob of precum leak out of my fat cockhead? Dr. Malik then entered my room and we chatted briefly about my discharge instructions, my continued physical therapy and workout regimen, my extended short term disability from my job, and that I could finally unload my throbbing cock this evening after 6 pm. I was to orgasm at least 3 times per day and no more than 6 in a 24-hour period. I was to return for a follow up each week until my scheduled 3-month procedure, which would be the first of many quarterly procedures over the next 3 years. “I’ve hired a driver to take you home and he will be available for your transportation needs over the next few weeks. The only heavy machinery you are allowed to operate is in the weight room with your Trainer. Absolutely no driving until I give you the Ok.” Dr. Malik instructed as we began leaving the room and walking towards the lobby exit of his building. As we reached the front doors, Dr. Malik extended his hand, but I brushed it aside and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you, Doctor, you have saved me and given me back my life! I don’t know how I can ever repay you for all you have done for me”. With a pat on my butt and a hug back, he said, “Complete the study and follow my instructions is all I ask and that will be all I need”. Outside was a blue Mercedes S Class with the back passenger door open and a strikingly tall young man walking towards me. He looked and moved like a model off the runway in Milan. He was incredibly handsome with the darkest skin tone that contrasted starkly against the light blue collared shirt that snugly fit his muscular upper body. Tyson Beckford instantly came to mind, but this man was in his early 20s and was much taller at over 6’5”. “Good morning, Jason. Please allow me to carry your backpack” as he quickly slipped it from my shoulder to his large hand. “My name is David, and I will be assisting you over the next few weeks” as he guided me into the back seat of the luxury sedan and closed the door. He placed my backpack in the front passenger seat and then walked around the front of the vehicle to the driver’s side. My eyes were quickly drawn to the gorgeous bubble butt that filled out the dress pants that looked to be painted on his lower body. The image of my throbbing fat white cock parting those dark cheeks sent a tremble through my body and caused my pre-cum to leak through my underwear and gym shorts. My townhome address was preloaded in the navigation system, and we headed out. Along the drive we chatted, and I learned that David was a recent college graduate and he had started a personal training business and Dr. Malik had been a generous investor in his new venture. He had been a two-sport athlete in college playing basketball and baseball but wasn’t good enough to get into the pros. He was considering getting his masters in exercise physiology but wanted to take a year to work on his business before taking that next step. We arrived at my place and David again carried my backpack to my door even though I felt fully recovered and could have easily managed the lightweight pack. It was nice having a young stud assisting me. My home still had unpacked boxes in every corner as I had recently relocated to Houston from my long-time home in Atlanta for a new position with a new firm. I had only been to the office one day when the accident happened as I was leaving the office. “Why don’t you go rest for a while before we train at 3 pm”, David said as he guided me towards my oversized sofa in the living room. “I’ll grab my stuff and get settled in the guest room.” I guess David saw the surprised look on my face. “Yes, Dr. Malik arranged for me to be a full-time driver and assistant during your recovery period. Not only am I your trainer but I’m also your personal assistant and will take care of all of your needs.” His eyes then floated down to my throbbing cock clearly tenting the loose gym shorts and staining a large circle where the head was threatening to bust through the material. “Sounds great!’ was all I could muster before David turned quickly and exited out to retrieve his stuff. I must have fallen asleep because when I came to David was working nearby unboxing some books and placing them on the built-in bookcase. He was completely naked except a well-worn, old-school jock that had originally been white but was now a faded gray. The haggard pouch carried a substantial package that one would imagine a 6’5’’ tall, muscular black stud would stereotypically possess. As he turned, the framing of that muscular bubble butt with the withered straps made me throb. His body was a finely tuned machine with hard muscles displayed from head to toe. He had clearly been working for some time as he was covered in sweat, his movements were a beautiful dance of symmetry and strength as he lifted full stacks of books from the box and then critically displayed each in the bookcase. I realized I had subconsciously been stroking my aching thick cock as I secretly watched and was very close to erupting when I remembered my orders and quickly released my grip. The sound of my fat pipe hitting my abs was loud enough for David to hear above his music in his earbuds as he turned back to me and said, “how was your rest?” “It was great! Damn, you have a beautiful body!” I said grabbing my thick rod and slowly stroking it. “Thanks daddy,” he replied with a mischievous smile. He put down the books in his hands and walked over to me. Towering above me like a giant beast, his sweat soaked jock expanding with the entrapped club stretching the tattered threads. I sat up and my mouth was only inches from his bulging pouch when he reached down and placed his huge hand under my chin and raised my face to look at him above. The 8-pack was smooth, hard, and deep, leading to thick pecs with little pointy nipples, up to that beautifully handsome face and those full kissable lips. This was not a tender ‘our eyes met’ romantic setting. No, this was a young strong man with a firm grip on my head controlling the moment and establishing his dominance. His look was determined, and he spoke in a militaristic voice, “Play time will come later, release that grip on your dick, and refocus that energy. We are leaving in 5 minutes for the gym.” I exhaled and immediately let go of my throbbing cock. The thrill of submission washed over me, and I felt a happiness and understanding envelope me that this young man was now in control.
    23 points
  23. Chapter 5 “What the fuck.” I’d said it a few times already, but it was the only thing my brain could force out while I looked at the insane sight in front of me. Dr. Kim opened the door to the chamber which held the enormous mountain of muscle. Walking in a circle around the behemoth I realised my estimate of twelve to fifteen feet was probably an underestimation, and he was closer to 17 feet. He was far wider than he was tall though, and the sheer mass of muscle gave off an intense heat. I could hear an occasional groan of pleasure emanating from high up on the beast, but the sound echoed through his huge chest. From one side truly obscene pecs bulged out. They were closer to tits than any pecs I’d ever seen but they were incredibly full all the way up. His abs were an extreme concave mass. They didn’t look so much like muscle protruding outward, more so like massive slabs of muscle stacked on top of each other in a pile as they competed for space. From the other side towering traps easily obscured any view of his head from behind, and I realised I couldn’t actually see it from anywhere. It was probably a good thing, knowing how handsome the serum made Dane, this guy’s face would probably cause spontaneous ejaculation. The guy’s lats were so fucking wide that his arms were almost horizontal from the way they pushed against his biceps. I realised with a little disgust and a lot awe that the lower side of his lats were actually resting against the top of his quads. This guy’s waist was enviably small on a normal man, but in this obscene mountain it was even more comically small. Laying in front of him was the most inhuman set of genitals I’d ever seen. His cock was several feet long and seemed almost as thick, his balls looked like enormous beanbags sitting freely on the floor underneath. Together they probably made up a third of the guy’s total body mass. A thick stream of pre and cum dripped out the end in thick globules which fell into some sort of drainage container. All over the muscle freak, tubes extended from the ceiling and walls pumping various coloured fluids into veins that looked like they’d serve well as garden hoses. “This is Harrison.” Said Dr. Kim. “The previous subject and the direct result of the extreme addiction caused by the serum.” I looked Dane to see his reaction, but he just had a slack-jawed look of awe as he stared at the guy. He was fully hard and I realised vaguely that I was as well. Dane was already a god, but the monster in front of him was at least two to three times his size. “Harrison,” Dr Kim continued, “is what would traditionally be referred to as braindead.” This got our attention instantly, both of us letting out exclamations of shock. “Traditionally.” She clarified. “The reality is that modern medicine would have no true classification for his condition. Most of his brain is shut down in a type of hibernation, diverting basically all of its power to feed him pleasure. Harrison is completely unaware of anything outside himself unless someone makes physical contact, until then he is in a state which can only be described as better than the most intense orgasm you have ever felt in your life. Permanently.” She continued to walk around the freak, checking various readouts and charts on displays. “The tubes you see feed him, both in the traditional sense and also a very low concentration of the serum. Without the serum I fear he would go into shock within hours and quite possibly not survive. We have managed to curb his growth however.” She gestured to one of the machines which was connected to a sort of large mixing container where bright red serum was entering, and a pale, almost clear pink fluid was leaving in the pipes. An assortment of bottles of the serum were sitting on the desk. “Is that what’s going to happen to me?” asked Dane. It struck me that I honestly couldn’t tell if that was fear causing his voice to quiver, or eager anticipation. “Ideally not,” said the doctor, “Since Harrison we’ve put a great deal of work into reducing the drawbacks. The addiction is obviously still incredibly prevalent, though it should never reach this state of dependence which would cause damage should you stop taking it. We’ve also adjusted various parameters of the serum to enhance skeletal growth, so immobility such as Harrison’s should be… a more distant prospect.” “Distant, as in it will still happen?” asked Dane, actually sounding nervous now. “Without intervention, yes.” She looked at him and saw the mix of fear and irritation on his face. “You’re a guinea pig, Dane, that’s what you signed up for and you knew the process was far from perfect when we started working together. The serum is an ongoing project and every day we’re getting closer to solving all of these problems.” “Those all sound like pretty convenient answers.” He said, “Are you sure you’re not just bullshitting me here with what I want to hear?” “Dane, this project means as much to me as it does to you, more even. Lying to you would do nothing to benefit me.” “I wish I could believe that.” He said, and I was getting a little nervous as he seemed to be getting pretty intense, advancing on the doctor. She was trying to hold her ground but Dane towered over her and she could see how angry he was getting. “You didn’t tell me any of this when we started, you made it sound like you were days from perfecting the formula.” “Dane…” I started. “Don’t threaten me Dane, you need me, or what you’re looking at is your future.” Said Dr. Kim in a voice that would have been stern if it hadn’t broken. “Oh, I realise that. I just think we’d all be better off if you took the risks more seriously. A little more personally.” He was right up close to her now, looming over her by several feet. In a sudden explosive motion, fuelled by the powerful muscles of his arms, he lashed out at her. Or at least that’s what I thought happened, but she didn’t go flying across the room or crumple like a blow from him would surely cause, she just seemed to flinch. That’s when I saw it. In one hand he was grasping a bottle of the serum that he must have swiped from the storage around the room, and dangling from the doctor’s neck was a syringe. She raised a trembling hand to her neck and pulled out the syringe, looking down at it in disbelief. Prominent veins were rising up all over her skin, all the way down to the hand she was looking at. “What… What have you done?” she stammered out. “Well, now I think you’ve got plenty of motivation to fix those little problems.” Said Dane smiling. I was in shock, I didn’t realise how much this had all got to him, and I never expected him to be capable of something like this. “I don’t…” she started, “this was never meant to happen…”
    23 points
  24. Six Shaun is still asleep when I quietly grab my laptop and take it back to bed. My head’s a little fuzzy, but I’m not feeling too bad. I’m so fucking glad I only had that one shot. I know Shaun will be suffering today. He was annoying the fuck out of me last night with his crappy mood, but after his drunken confessions on the walk back home, I don’t really feel pissed off at him now. I even feel this strange sort of warmth towards him. My stomach clenches when I head to Instagram. (And it’s not because of the alcohol from last night.) This is it. I’m getting it over with. I’m looking up Adam Lloyd on Instagram. And I’m following him. I can’t exactly NOT after what he said to me last night. If I don’t follow him back now, it will look like I’m playing some kind of mind game. Which is ridiculous. Because you only do that with potential love interests. Which is RIDICULOUS. Because Adam Lloyd is most likely straight, like ninety percent of the students here at Montgomery. And I’m most likely about to find pictures of him with his gorgeous blonde girlfriend. Although - ha! - I know better than anyone that that means absolutely fuck all. His name comes up straight away. I’m half expecting some kind of nickname sandwiched in between his first and last name. Something like “The Unit” or “The Jacked GI Joe”. I guess it’s not really Adam’s style though. (Not that I exactly know him all that well.) The first pic I see is Adam sitting on a weight bench in a gym. He’s wearing a “Protein Factory” beanie hat and a black vest which his upper body is fucking BULGING out of. Fuck. There are other pictures of him at the gym. A couple with some fellow bodybuilders (none of whom spark particular suspicion). And pics of him in New York from last summer. I click on one of him standing sandwiched between a man and a woman. Wait - are those Adam’s parents? I read the caption. Yep - he went to New York with his parents. I’m suddenly smiling. Because his mum and dad look so normal. And just so … nice. And then I click on another picture and fucking hell. It’s Adam tanned and huge and shredded. Squeezing out a most muscular on stage at last summer’s end of year bodybuilding show where he earned his pro card. Those crazy quads sweeping out. THIS is what I remember from that show. Shaun makes me jump by letting out a pained groan. I look over to find him now sitting up in bed. His freckled shoulders and tight pecs peeking out of the top of his duvet. He looks fucking ROUGH. “All right?” I say, failing not to smirk. “Mate! I feel rough.” I bite my lip and go back to my laptop. “No shit!” Shaun groans again. “I don’t remember getting home.” “You don’t remember telling Adam he had massive ears then?” “Fuck off!” he cries, clearly not believing me. I give him a wide-eyed nod and he pulls an eeek face. “He has though, to be fair.” “I think he found it funny.” “God. What else did I say?” “That I was your bestest friend in the whole wide world.” “Oh fuck off!” he says, shuffling back down his bed and pulling his duvet up to his chin. “You did!” I cry, enjoying winding him up. I carry on scrolling down Adam’s profile. More stage pics. More gym shots. No gorgeous blonde girlfriends. No sign of the hot Black guy from last night either. “Mate …,” Shaun says, in a weirdly serious tone. I look over to see his head peeking out of his duvet. His blonde hair ruffled and unstyled. He doesn’t NOT look kinda cute right now. That’s all I’m gonna say. “Was I a dick last night?” I can’t fight back my smile. I turn back to my laptop. “A bit,” I tease. There’s a pause. “Nah. You were fine,” I say, not looking at him. I hit the “Follow” button at the top of Adam’s Instagram profile. Then I close the window. No liking his posts. No posting comments. And definitely no sending him private messages. I did it. I looked at Adam’s profile. I followed back. I have no reason to look at it again. When Walker asks me whether I had a good weekend on my first training session of the week on Monday, Adam (who’s bulging out of a white vest - you should fucking SEE this guy’s shoulders) gives me a cheeky knowing smirk behind Walker’s back. When our leg session is done and I feel like I might throw up, Walker asks me to have a think about my posing routine for the McCarthy Classic (we all get to pose for a minute and a half before all six of us take the stage together). “I’ve booked a room for next Tuesday for a practice run. The three of us can go through it together. Bring some music. And a pair of trunks.” Okay - so next Tuesday I’m going to be posing in front of Adam wearing just my posing trunks. I can do that. I’m actually kind of … excited to do that. I only really get nervous when I’m just about to hit the stage at real bodybuilding shows. And even then the adrenaline and the rush of competing always overrides the nerves. Thinking about my posing routine as Walker instructed seems to increase my hype for the McCarthy Classic for the rest of the week. I just keep imagining myself on that stage. In front of the audience who are there to see some of the biggest and best bodybuilders in the world. Like Felix King. And Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson. And Mitchell “The Machine” Murray. My future (cough) boyfriend. All of whom I’ll get the opportunity to MEET. I’m gonna get to pose for the experienced IFBB judges there who might one day be judging me. And I’ll be being watched by Brad McCarthy. THE Brad McCarthy. The first bodybuilder I ever became obsessed with. The first bodybuilder whose picture I … do I really need to finish that sentence? And he’s going to be watching ME. He’s going to know who I am. I keep getting these waves of happiness when I think about the whole thing. They’re almost overwhelming. I’m not really talking about it in front of Shaun though. He seems to have chilled out since his behaviour last weekend. I think he knew he was being a dick. And he clearly realised I was trying to do him a favour by dragging Mafra out. But he’s fine now. Well … at least for the time being. I’m fully expecting his emotions to get the better of him and for him to start playing up as the America trip gets closer. Which is why I’m just not talking about it with him. It’s not until the morning of running through my posing routine with Adam and Walker that I actually start to feel a little nervous about the whole thing. I know what it is. And it’s nothing to do with Walker. It’s posing in front of Adam. It’s knowing Adam will be sitting there watching me in my favourite maroon red velvet posing trunks. And also having no idea what will be going through his head as he does so. I walk into the classroom Walker booked to find him and Adam seated. Adam’s wearing a tight red “Protein Factory” t-shirt. I don’t know if it’s my imagination but he looks different. More handsome I guess. “All right, Deano?” Walker says. I say all right back to both of them feeling awkward because of what’s about to happen. Okay - this is just like a Posing Practice lesson. Only this time there’s only one student who’s going to be stripping to his trunks and posing. And that student is me. Plus - there’s a jug-eared tank in a tight red t-shirt who may or may not be into lads watching me. And then Dave Walker says something which makes my heart fucking drop. “We’re just waiting for Seth. As per usual.” Oh my fucking GOD. I’m guessing my face isn’t hiding my feelings right now, because Adam is now giving me this tight-lipped sympathetic little smile. So it’s not just me who’s posing. My new best mate (as Ash called him) Ozzie is posing too. Walker DID say we’d be having the odd meeting together. Okay - so maybe this doesn’t have to be such a bad thing. At least I’m not the only one posing now. And I mean - I AM going to be posing with him at the McCarthy Classic. I can’t avoid the guy forever. Or completely ignore him. “Is that boy ever on bloody time?” Walker groans, looking at his watch. As if on cue, the door opens and Seth “Ozzie” Osman comes sauntering in like he doesn’t have a care in the fucking world. I’m slightly taken aback when I see him. Because, unlike the first two times we met, he’s not covered up a black tracksuit. This time he’s wearing a tight olive green coloured vest (which seems to oddly match his flat mohawk). And fuck me. This dude might be a bit of an annoying twat, but he’s fucking JACKED. His frame isn’t even that big. But the fucking muscle he’s managed to pack onto it is unreal. His traps are bulging. His shoulders border on cartoon-like. His arms are so fucking WIDE. Like bunched up boulders of rock hard muscle placed on top of each other and packed onto a frame of about five foot six in height. He’s got these crazy veins running across his shoulders and snaking down both arms. All the way down to his hands. “Yo, yo, yo!” he says in that Welsh accent, walking up to us. For fuck’s sake. I close my eyes. I’m so fucking embarrassed for him. He stands next to me, his eyes scanning over me. I look straight ahead, trying to act like I haven't noticed. “Deano - shall we start with you first?” Walker suggests. Okay - this is just a normal Posing Practice. Except I’m the only one taking my t-shirt off and the room has suddenly gone quiet and the three other people in the room are ALL looking at me. Now just wearing my maroon velvet posers, I hand my phone with my posing music to Walker to find Ozzie giving me a similar fucking annoying smirk to the one he was giving me the day of the induction. Right after I introduced myself. Ugh. Is he trying to intimidate me? Or belittle me? I can’t work it out, but it definitely feels like he’s judging me. Maybe it's just a smirk that’s saying, “Come on then, Deano - let’s see what you’ve got. We both know I’m a bigger and better bodybuilder than you are.” What a dick. I try to block out my audience and get into the zone as Walker fires up my posing music. Then I go through my one and a half minute posing routine, looking straight past the three of them to the back of the classroom. When I’ve finished, Adam has his arms folded and is biting his lip with an expression that’s hard to read. Meanwhile, Ozzie is kind of frowning and chewing on the inside of his mouth. (Not that I give a shit what HE thinks.) “Nice work, Deano,” Walker says. Adam nods and offers me up a little smile. Still with his huge arms bulging and folded across his chest. I’m still just standing here in nothing but my posing trunks. “Adam - any thoughts? Or advice?” “I’d probably say try holding your most musculars for a few seconds longer,” he suggests. I bite my lip and nod. “Other than that - I’d say a good job. Well done,” he says, his lip curling into a coy smile which does something to my insides. And then someone else speaks up which completely changes that. “It feels a bit FLAT to me!” Ozzie says, matter-of-factly. My chest tightens. Adam gives me a look. “Okay, Seth,” Walker says, in a slightly annoyed but diplomatic tone. “Care to elaborate?” “It needs more energy.” I feel myself getting annoyed. I just glare at Ozzie. I’m not sure what my expression is doing. “And why do you end on black lat spread?” he asks. His voice is so judgemental. ARGH! “It’s just … weird! You need to end it with a bang. Like with a big crab most muscular.” Adam gives me a knowing look. I don’t say anything, but I’m seriously pissed off. Walker clears his throat. “Well, we can discuss any potential changes one-on-one. Good job, Deano. Seth - do you wanna get up there?” “YEP!” he says in an excited tone as he jumps up from his chair with a big, smug grin on his face. For fuck’s sake. I roll my eyes as I grab my clothes and clear the way for Ozzie. I don’t give a fuck if he saw the eye roll. As I pull my t-shirt over my head, Ozzie (now topless with his back to me) is readying to pull down his trackies. I’m not gonna lie - his lats are fucking impressive. Short, thick and pumped. He’s tanned too. The trackies come down and I resist the urge to roll my eyes again when I'm met with a pair of red posing trunks which (of course) are the shiny kind. (We’re talking Luke Henderson/gonna need sunglasses to look directly at them shiny.) But something else is distracting me from that unnecessarily shiny trunk material. I’m completely taken aback. Because Ozzie’s arse. Jesus. Thick round mounds of juicy muscle. I hate that I’m getting a hard-on right now. Which is not helped by the image of his thick hams. Fuck it - even the calves are amazing. Nicely shaped, thick and bulging off the back of his lower legs. Ozzie hands his phone to Walker then heads to the front of the classroom to face us, where I get to fully take in his physique. Fuck. Like, seriously - FUCK. Let’s start with the shoulders. Big, wide boulders of muscle that border on cartoon-like. Thick pumped arms which look like they’re struggling for space. Pecs that manage to be both thick AND striated. And wait - what are those ABS? Jesus. They’re like six cobblestones haphazardly placed on top of each other. They have no right to be that shredded this far out of the McCarthy. Hands down some of the most unique abs I’ve seen on a guy. Both here at Montgomery or any pro in the IFBB. None of this taking away the fact that (yep) - he’s still a fucking knob. I internally groan when The Prodigy’s “Firestarter” starts playing. And then a big internal battle starts when Ozzie starts posing. Because on one hand, I’m watching him flex and pose and show off his (let’s be honest) pretty fucking amazing physique. I’m watching his thick pecs twitch and bounce (the boy likes to bounce his fucking pecs!), his unique abs crunch, his brutal biceps bulge, his pumped lats flare out and his huge orbs of arse meat clench and blow out of his posing trunks. And I’m turned on. OBVIOUSLY, I’m turned on. But on the other hand - I’m internally groaning and rolling my eyes. Because, despite only having an audience of three, Ozzie is not holding back with the attitude. Jesus fucking Christ. What is this boy on? Scrunching up his face. Opening his mouth wide. Sticking out his tongue. Fucking GRUNTING as he hits his poses. (Again.) Jesus. Fucking. Christ. But it’s funny because at times I’m finding myself holding back a smile. Because I just can not believe the ridiculousness of this situation. He’s SO over the top cocky that I can’t help but find it a little bit funny. (And I thought Ryan North was a cocky poser!) At one point, I spot Adam looking at me out of the corner of my eye. And for some reason, I feel nervous at the thought of him seeing my reaction. I don’t know why. When he does it a second time, I look over and he’s got this little smirk on his face. Like he’s amused at the whole thing too. I pull a face and manage a knowing smirk back. Ozzie finishes off his routine with a loud roar (for FUCK’S sake) as he cranks down into a crab most muscular. The three of us now just sitting here in silence. It’s like no one knows what the hell to say. Walker clears his throat. “Never short on confidence are you, Ozzie?” (He’s not fucking kidding.) Ozzie just grins smugly. And then he gives his thick round pecs a few bounces. I pull a face and roll my eyes. I don't even try to hide it. “Any feedback for Ozzie, lads?” Ozzie looks at me and Adam. His hands resting on his hips. His thick chest puffed out. Those bonkers looking abs pulsing in and out as he gets his breath back. From somewhere, I feel a surge of confidence. “What’s with all the faces?” Ozzie lets out a raucous laugh and tips his head back. Not exactly the reaction I was going for. “ATTITUDE, Deano!” he says, smirking smugly at me. I kinda get the impression he got a kick out of asking me that question. I roll my eyes. “Is the grunting necessary?” Still looking at me, Ozzie puts his fists together, scrunches up his face and hits a quick most muscular at me with a grunt in response. What. A. Fucking. Knob. Walker lets out a big sigh. “I should've known you two wouldn’t get on!” Ozzie looks at me, his mouth curling into this big fucking smirk. I honestly don’t think he’s trying to wind me up. I actually don’t think he gives a FUCK what I think. I think he’s just slightly amused by the whole thing. And probably getting a kick out of my reaction to his posing routine. I pull a slight face and look away as if I don’t care either. Because I actually don’t. This Ozzie guy’s just a bit of a knob who I’m having to put up with every now and then. And for a few days in the States. It’s a small price to pay for getting to pose at the McCarthy Classic and meeting some of the top bodybuilders on the planet. Not a few minutes after I’ve left the classroom and I’m walking back to my dorm room when I hear someone calling after me. “Deano! Wait up!” My chest expands at the sound of his voice. I turn around to find a six-foot jug-eared tank jogging towards me. His arms bulging out of his t-shirt. “Well, that was eventful!” Adam Lloyd says, falling in line with me. I look at him, roll my eyes and smirk. “He poses exactly like that on stage, you know.” “I know. I remember.” I look over at Adam. “Last year’s end of year bodybuilding show,” I clarify. Adam’s nodding and smirking a bit. “Don’t suppose you remember me?” “I do, actually.” Why the fuck did I just say that? I nervously look at Adam. He’s biting his lip. I think he’s smirking a bit though. He clears his throat. “So, this is gonna sound a bit sad …,” I look at him confused. “It’s my birthday on Saturday.” “Oh right!” I reply, not really knowing where this is going. “Obviously there’s not exactly many places to go around here. But … there’s a pub in Little Hatton that I used to go to.” His voice seems to be changing, Is he nervous? “It’s pretty decent. So … you up for it?” What the fuck? My chest flutters. “Erm … yeah?” I reply, feeling slightly awkward. But kind of warm too. I’m struggling to look at him. “Promise I won’t tell Walker if you drink.” I look over at Adam and he’s giving me a crooked little smirk. “Although … not to lecture you or anything …,” he says teasingly, still smirking. “Who's going?” I ask, suddenly feeling nervous. “My mate, Ty. The guy from the SU bar the other week.” I nod, thinking, “the HOT guy I thought might be your boyfriend”. “Maybe a few others. Not confirmed yet though.” I nod, still not looking at him. “Count me in,” I say, my chest expanding. I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. Not to cover up a smile or anything. Just because. I’m kind of glad that Shaun isn’t home when I’m getting ready to meet Adam on Saturday night. I’ve not told him where we’re going. I just told him I was hanging out with Adam (which I was ridiculously nervous to do). He screwed up his face in confusion, said, “Oh right!” then didn’t say anything more about it. The thing is, after the whole thing about us guys not going to the SU bar because of the programme, I can’t exactly tell Shaun that I’m off to a fucking pub in Little Hatton. He’d be well pissed off. And then I’d probably have to invite him. And okay, I know I’m his mate and everything but … ugh … I know he’d probably just get hammered in front of Adam and whoever his mates are who are coming. Plus, I dunno, I guess I kind of like the idea of having a mate away from Shaun and Ash and Mafra. I don’t have to do EVERYTHING with those guys, after all. As I look at my outfit of skinny painted on jeans (which have never been more of a struggle to get into) and a tight white t-shirt (arms looking RIDICULOUS) in the mirror, I feel a stab of nerves. I have the sudden urge to dig out the vodka my mum bought me for Christmas which is sitting at the bottom of my wardrobe. Although, the last time I did that before going out the night turned into an absolute fucking disaster. No. I'm not going to do it. Just as I’m grabbing my black North Face puffer jacket out of the wardrobe, I hear a sound that makes me internally groan. My dorm room door opening and Shaun walking in. “Why have you got your jacket on?” he asks, frowning in confusion. Fuck. I just shrug and say, “Dunno,” like it’s a weird question. Shaun’s just standing there frozen, looking at me suspiciously. “Are you going to the SU bar?” he cries. I roll my eyes. “No!” He doesn’t look like he believes me. “I think we’re just … hanging out at his,” I lie. Shaun gives a suspicious nod. I grab my wallet and phone then Shaun walks right up to me. He puts both of his hands on my shoulders and looks me straight in the eye. Wow. Why am I starting to swell right now? “Deano?” he says, in a playful tone. A pretend straight-faced expression. “I’m just gonna ask you this once. Are you or are you not having a gay love affair with Adam Lloyd?” What the fuck? Okay - I know he’s only joking, but something about that comment makes me nervous. I’m not saying anything. Shaun’s just looking at me. His hands still firmly on my shoulders. Which doesn’t feel …. completely unpleasant. It's like there's this tension all of a sudden. Am I imagining that? A shadow flickers across Shaun's face. “I’m kidding, mate!” he finally says, now looking a little awkward and puzzled. Shit. Obviously, he was kidding. But have I just given myself away? I roll my eyes. “Obviously!” I say, putting on a front. “Dickhead!” He smirks and takes his hands off my shoulders. I say bye and leave the dorm room, wondering what the hell just happened. I become increasingly nervous as I head to Adam’s Prince Hall dorm room. Is there going to be anyone else in that room? Ty - his huge hot friend from the SU bar maybe? Am I about to walk in to find the two of them wrapped around each other? Adam introducing him as his boyfriend. Because, “You do know I’m gay - right Deano? I knew you’d be cool with it. I kind of had a feeling you were into lads too. Because, although you might not think of it, there are loads of us. Bodybuilders into bodybuilders. Here at Montgomery. In the IFBB. And they're all just waiting for you, Deano.” My stomach tightens when I knock on the door of Adam’s dorm room. But I can’t lie. I feel excited too. Excited to be stood at Adam’s door. To be venturing out to Little Hatton with him. A little bit for him to see me in my skinny jeans. And I guess excited just to see Adam Lloyd in general. “All right, Deano?” he says to me as he opens the door. Jesus Christ. He looks even bigger than usual, bulging out of a tight black t-shirt and jeans. Crazy arms. T-shirt stretching pecs. And the legs! Those quads bulging underneath that stretchy denim. I suddenly feel stupid that I thought he’d be impressed by MY skinny jeans covered legs. And yet - I definitely notice him looking down at them. He’s got this ominous smirk on his face as I walk in. “Wow!” I say, looking around. Adam looks at me confused. “Your room!” I say room. It’s more like a mini apartment. He’s got an actual sofa. And a double fucking bed. “Most third-year rooms are like this, to be fair,” he says, smiling. I nod, surprised. I know having a room of your own is an option when you get to the third year, but I haven’t really given much thought before. I’m definitely considering it now though. “Is that an Xbox Series X?” I ask, looking around the room. Adam tells me yes. “I won’t mention that to Shaun. He’ll be turning up at your door wanting to play on it.” Adam smiles and grabs his jacket from the wardrobe. A black fucking North Face puffer jacket! “Why do I look like your much taller twin?” he teases. I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth to hide my smirk. “Is your mate not coming?” I ask Adam as we head through the hall and make the thirty-minute trek to the nearest bus stop. “Nah. He flaked on me,” he says. I feel a pinch in my chest. Is it just me and Adam tonight? “A couple of others are meeting us there though.” Oh. I nod, not looking at him. “I actually had visions of you showing up with your dorm mate. Not that I would’ve minded.” “Even though he said you had massive ears?” Adam laughs. “Not exactly wrong though, was he?” I smirk and bite my lip. I cautiously look over at him and he’s giving me a knowing smile. The looks we get from the passengers when we get on the bus to Little Hatton are hilarious. I can’t deny that being out with a guy as huge and good looking as Adam gives me a kick. I guess I’ve experienced something similar before though. I sit by the window on the bus. And when Adam sits next to me, there’s so little space that his legs are almost pushed against mine. His arm IS pushed against mine. Fuck. “I don’t think bus seats were designed for bodybuilders,” he jokes. I smile, but I can barely look at him. Because our arms are touching. Adam Lloyd’s shoulder and arm are pushed against mine. Fuck. It’s no surprise that I’m swelling right now. I feel like I could quite happily stay just pushed up against the side of the bus. And I feel it. Electricity. Chemistry. Between me and this jug-eared tank of a gorgeous G.I Joe wannabe bodybuilder. With his cute but oh-so-masculine features. And the balloon-like pecs hiding under his clothes. And those crazy fucking quads I was re-acquainted with after looking at his Instagram profile last week. Chemistry just like I felt with Harry the Bouncer back home over Christmas. Only … perhaps this is something more than that. I feel like it could be. (Even though I don’t even know if he's into lads.) And that excites me. I’m not gonna lie. But it scares me too. Just like it did with Harry the Bouncer. “Think we turned a few heads on that bus,” Adam says, leading us down a deserted little country lane. Even though we’ve ventured away from the Muscle University campus, it STILL feels like we’re in the middle of nowhere. “I think it was mainly you,” I say, surprising myself. He gives me a pointed look. “It was both of us, Deano.” Then, without looking at me, he says something else. “I’m blaming those jeans you’ve got on.” What the fuck? I’m smiling so much. I don’t dare look at him though. Is he … wait … is Adam Lloyd FLIRTING? I try to contain my spiralling thoughts and the high I’m currently feeling as we approach a little country pub with tables outside. “Here it is. Only took about two hours to get here.” Heads turn as we walk into the pub. “Oh - they’re already here,” Adam says. For some reason, I feel a pinch of nerves, and I don’t know why. And then, just like that, any high I was feeling from being away from campus, and being out and about with this absurdly good looking and endearingly likeable jug-eared tank who may or may not be flirting with me suddenly vanishes. And instead, my stomach fucking lurches. Because I’ve just seen who these mystery so-called “others” are who are apparently mates of Adam’s. Seated at a table, both now looking at me like they’ve seen a fucking ghost is Luke fucking Henderson and Sebastian “Woody” Wood.
    22 points
  25. Five It’s kind of funny how this time last week I felt nervous even making eye contact with Adam Lloyd, and now we’re training together and making friendly conversation with each other. I’m almost shocked at just how easy it is to talk to him. Even yesterday when he rocked up to the Watson House gym for my first training session with Walker in a vest. Shoulders sticking out to a cartoonish degree. Ridiculous arms. And his thick pecs spilling out of the material. But even with all of that going on, there’s something about him that just puts you at ease. I think he’s one of those guys who just gets on with everyone. On paper, I probably shouldn’t like him. (And I’ll admit - some of his prep talk during the workout yesterday was kind of annoying.) But it’s just really hard NOT to like the guy. My phone pings at the same time Shaun gets home from the gym. It’s mad cunt Tony from back home replying to a text I sent earlier telling him about Chicago. He’s replied saying, “Just don’t forget me when you’re a famous bodybuilder (crying face emoji)”. Which makes me laugh. And also gets me thinking - that if I DO become a well-known bodybuilder in years to come (I’m not sure any bodybuilders actually become “famous”), out of all of my friends, Tony is the one I can see myself still being mates with. I’m not sure why exactly. Maybe it’s because I’ve known him the longest. Maybe because we grew up together. Or maybe it’s because he’s the only friend who actually knows that I like lads. He knows about that side of me that none of my mates here at Montgomery do. “We gaming tonight?” Shaun says, pulling off his gym vest to reveal his freshly pumped freckled torso. “Mmm. Yeah - deffo,” I reply, as I send Tony a text back. So this is probably going to sound really fucking dorky but every Thursday night is a sort of unofficial gaming night for me and Shaun. It started out as a habit we got into a few months into our first year here at Montgomery. Shaun made a joke that we should make every Thursday night a gaming night. I pulled a face and we both laughed about it. But the idea must have sparked something because that’s exactly what ended up happening. Even if we don’t officially acknowledge it. Not long into a game on Shaun’s Xbox, he asks me if I’m training tomorrow. I tell him yes and it prompts him to ask me another question. “So what’s that Adam guy like?” There’s this weird sort of judgemental tone to his voice. He kinda spits Adam’s name too. “He’s all right,” I say, not looking at Shaun. There’s a pause. “Why would you graduate with your pro card then come BACK though?” “I mean … it is like a job," I tell him, smiling to myself. "He’s not doing it for free. He DID ask me if we all thought he was mad for coming back, though.” “Tell him yes,” Shaun says, matter-of-factly. That makes me laugh. Shaun’s always been a straight talker. That’s one of the things I like about him. Come to think of it, I reckon he and my dad would probably get on. Maybe I should invite Shaun down to Brighton this summer. I could get him drunk and take him to a gay pub. No, Shaun. You’re not imagining it. ALL of the guys in here are checking out my arse. And I hate to break it to you, mate - but they’re checking out yours too. Including the bald-headed bouncer over there. Who tied me to his bed and sucked me off last Christmas. “Oh, mate. I've been meaning to ask. SU bar Saturday,” Shaun says. “What you saying?” I look over at him. He’s staring straight at the TV as he games. His expression is hard to make out, and I might be way off but I have this feeling he’s trying to test me. “I’ve got training,” I say flatly. He screws his face up a little. “That’s in the day though.” Yeah - he’s definitely testing me. He knows we can’t go to the SU bar and drink the same way we did last term because of the programme. The programme his two other drinking buddies also happen to be on. “Yeah, but - we’re not supposed to be drinking.” He stays quiet for a moment. “I knew it,” he says dryly, not taking his eyes off the screen. What does he want from me? Does he want me to feel guilty? I don’t say anything, but he pipes up again. “America’s, like, ages away.” “It’s in six weeks,” I protest, not wanting to get into an argument but struggling to let it slide. Because Shaun is being completely unreasonable. And I get the feeling he knows he is. “It’s not like you're even competing. It’s only guest posing.” Okay - that’s fucking ridiculous. Firstly, we ARE competing (at the end of term bodybuilding show in April - which I remind him of) and secondly, it’s the McCarthy fucking Classic. “Whatever,” he says casually. “I’ll just go with Baker and McLeod instead.” (Two other lads from our year we’re quite friendly with - though more so in the first year.) But Shaun doesn’t go to the SU bar with those lads on Saturday. In fact, he goes to the gym, which he NEVER does on a Saturday night. It’s almost like he’s trying to make a point. You lads won’t go drinking with me because you’ve been chosen for the programme and I haven’t and THIS is how you’ve forced me into spending my Saturday night. Feeling guilty yet? Oh - and he was frosty with me too. All day Saturday and for most of Sunday too. Which got me thinking that maybe Shaun isn’t as okay with this whole Future Pro’s Training thing as I thought. The annoying thing is - if Shaun HAS been trying to make me feel guilty, it’s worked. I mean - it can’t be easy having your three closest uni mates getting chosen to go over to the States to guest pose at one of the biggest bodybuilding events in the IFBB. And basically taking away the only bit of social life we can have up here at Montgomery on Friday and Saturday nights. So I’m thinking that maybe the four of us could have one last blowout. Or maybe we could go to the SU bar and just go easy on the drink. (Which has never really worked before.) I feel like I owe it to Shaun though. So this is my plan - to convince Ash and Mafra to go to the SU bar next Saturday. To do it for Shaun. When I walk into the Watson House gym on Monday afternoon for my first training session with Walker of the week, the last thing I expect to see is Ash talking animatedly to Keiran and Connell - two of the third years from the programme. And I don’t expect Connell to let out a raucous laugh at something which has just been said by Ash. Huh. When and how the fuck did Ash get so chummy with those two? And why does it bother me way more than I could have predicted? As I get closer to them, the third-years both fist bump Ash and walk off, while Ash turns around and approaches me as he bulges out of his white gym vest. He says all right and fist bumps me. “What are those guys like?” I ask him. He tells me they’re “sound” and asks me if I haven’t spoken to them yet in a surprised tone. And I think - when the fuck was I supposed to have spoken to them? I ask him about going to the SU bar on Saturday. He laughs and shakes his head. “Nah, bruv. You’re fucking joking aren’t you?” “I just thought, you know, one last time until the programme’s over.” I don’t tell him that I want to do it for Shaun’s sake. I don’t think Ash is too sympathetic towards the Shaun situation. “Even if I wanted to, I’ve got training on Sundays.” Oh. I guess that rules that out then. Maybe I can still work on Mafra though. “You can take your new best mate!” Ash says sarcastically, with a sly smirk. For some reason my stomach twists. Is he talking about Adam? “Ozzie!” Ash clarifies, with a mischievous grin. I relax instantly. I scoff. “Fuck that!” I say. I’m tempted to tell him about the private Instagram account. For some reason, I stop myself. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to admit to Ash that I’ve been checking out guy’s Instagram profiles. Even when there’s absolutely nothing behind it. I know there’s no point trying to convince Ash to go to the SU bar. Mafra, on the other hand, is a lot more persuadable. He doesn’t seem crazy about the idea but when I say, “For Shaun … you know,” he nods and finally agrees. So here we are. Saturday night at the SU bar. Almost the usual group of four - just missing one member. Shaun seemed sceptical when I mentioned it. And not at all enthusiastic about the idea. It’s like he knows we’re doing him a favour. Which is probably why he’s in a bit of a funny mood. So much so I’m starting to wonder why I bothered to even arrange this. Maybe he just needs a few drinks down him. It’s funny how I never see Woody and Henderson here. I guess they just stay in and watch TV together or whatever. This is what I’m thinking about as I’m stood at the bar in a tight white t-shirt waiting for the meathead monster third-year barman to serve me. It’s crazy how different this crappy SU bar is compared to all those packed gay pubs I went to when I was home for Christmas. I suddenly feel this yearning. Like I want to be back there. In one of those pubs by the seafront back home in Brighton. With a plastered Tony as lads check out my huge arse and biceps. Or maybe with someone else. Someone like Harry the Bouncer. “Ahem!” says a voice in a pointed manner behind me which makes me jump. I spin around and feel an unexpected pinch of excitement. Because standing in front of, towering over and dwarfing me with his tall height and ridiculously built frame, with his large jug ears sticking out and a big, mischievous grin on his G.I Joe wannabe face is Adam Lloyd. “All right,” I say, surprised. “Erm … I don’t remember beer on your diet plan,” he says with a raised eyebrow, looking over my shoulder as the third year monster puts a drink on the bar. “Oh, erm … I’m just having one.” His face relaxes into a cheeky smile. “I’m just messing with you, Deano.” I know that. Obviously! “Who you here with?” he says, looking around the deserted bar. “Eric and er ... my roommate,” I say, looking over to them. My roommate who’s now just glaring at me. This really weird look on his face. What the fuck is that about? Jealousy, maybe? Because he’s watching me being all chummy with the new teaching assistant who’s helping me out on the Future Pro’s Training Programme he had no chance of being picked for? “Oh - Shaun isn’t it?” Adam says, looking over at the glum-looking booth. “I recognise him from class.” “What about you?” I ask, suddenly REALLY wanting to know who Adam’s here with. “I’m waiting for Walker,” he says straight-faced. I feel a stab of panic before Adam grins. “I’m kidding!” I relax and smile, feeling stupid. But also kind of enjoying being teased by this ridiculously built recently crowned professional bodybuilder. “I’ve been busted!” I joke when I’m back at the table and giving Shaun and Mafra their drinks. Shaun looks from me and Mafra with his face screwed up. Then he rolls his eyes and goes back to his phone. He’s really starting to piss me off now. “Are you gonna be like this all night?” I ask him. He pulls a face. “What?! I’m fine! Atmosphere’s hardly great in here anyway.” I look out to the bar. It IS fucking dead in here. Though it’s not exactly helped by Shaun’s shitty mood. Am I gonna have to put with this for the whole term? Or maybe just until Chicago next month. I have a fleeting thought. Maybe I’m starting to outgrow Shaun? In more than one way. And then I see something which pulls me from that thought. A huge and handsome Black guy with a shaved head who is clearly a third-year walking across the bar and right up to Adam who’s picking up his drinks. Huh. So THIS is who Adam is here with. I watch on as the two of them walk to a table and sit down. I feel a tug in my stomach. I don’t really know what I’m feeling. Or why I’m so interested in the guy who gets to be in the company of Adam Lloyd. Not long after and Mafra is talking about his training plan with Johnny Hoxton when Shaun lets out a loud, pointed groan and announces he’s getting a round in (this will definitely be my last one). Me and Mafra exchange eye rolls as he heads to the bar. I look across the bar, which is getting a little busier, to my new sometime trainer and whoever that guy is he’s with. They look comfortable and easy with each other. Oh - and they like they're having a much better time than I am (which wouldn’t exactly be hard). I feel a desire to be on that table. Not necessarily in place of Adam’s friend sitting opposite him with a good view of his big jug ears. Just … there at that table. And now I’m suddenly wondering - are they like me? Is Adam Lloyd like me? There's nothing about Adam that necessarily screams, "I like lads." But then, the same thing could be said about Ryan North. Could the guy sitting opposite him be his boyfriend? Maybe that’s the real reason Adam came back to Montgomery. To be closer to his huge hot bodybuilder boyfriend who still has half a year to go before he graduates. I know it's a long shot, but just the thought of that being true gives me a strange sort of sense of hope. That there are other guys here at Muscle University like me. That Woody and Henderson aren’t the only ones. But as much as I wish for it to be true, that the guy sitting opposite Adam is his boyfriend, a part of me really doesn’t. Shaun comes back to the table and I look at him dumbfounded. Because he’s not just bought three drinks back with him. He’s carrying a whole fucking tray of drinks, including filled-up shot glasses. For fuck’s sake, Shaun. He ignores my glare and acts like it’s the most normal thing in the world as he puts the shot glasses on the table in front of us. I really can’t be bothered to argue, so I just pick up a shot and down it. One shot’s not gonna hurt me. And I’m not exactly going to be rushing back to repeat this night again. Certainly not with the way Shaun’s acting. This is my last official night at the SU bar until the end of term bodybuilding show. I look over to find Adam Lloyd giving me this comical wide-eyed look. I’ve been busted (again). I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth to hide how much I’m smirking. Then turn to find Shaun glaring at me with this stern look. Then he rolls his eyes. Which pisses me right off. “No. I’m not doing shots,” Mafra says, defiantly. Shaun groans as he reaches over to grabs Eric’s shot and downs it in one. And an hour or so later, Shaun is fucking wasted. At least he's cheered up a bit. But yeah - he’s a mess. Mafra leaves (thanks, mate!) and Shaun insists on going up to the bar again for more. I genuinely wouldn’t be surprised if the barman refuses to serve him. I get my phone out and fire up Instagram. An account I follow has posted a shot of Felix King at a show a few years ago squeezing a crab most muscular. His traps up to his earlobes. This big “eat shit” grin on his face. Felix is this huge Black monster who has been competing for years now, often cracking the top ten at the Mr Olympia. I’ve always loved his physique, not least of all his abs, which protrude from his stomach in a turtle-like roid gut. I kinda long for the day when I have a roid gut. Some people would probably find that a bit fucked up, I guess. He’s another bodybuilder I’m going to get to see compete, be backstage with AND meet and potentially talk to at the McCarthy next month. Mind. Fucking. Blown. The caption underneath the picture reads, “Could Felix King be crowned the winner of The McCarthy Classic in five weeks time?” Someone’s commented that he’ll have competition from Mitchell “The Machine” Murray. Even the mere sight of that name makes me start to swell. Felix King versus The Machine at one of the biggest bodybuilding competitions in the world. And I’m gonna be there. I’m gonna get to see that epic battle in person. I wonder if The Machine would be up for hanging out with a bunch of budding bodybuilding students after the show? Okay - of COURSE he fucking wouldn’t. But a budding bodybuilder can dream. I carry on scrolling down my Instagram feed. I could so easily search for Adam Lloyd’s profile instead. Maybe I’d get a hint as to who his hot mate is. And then I look up to find the real-life Adam at the bar talking to a drunk and animated Shaun. I feel a twist in my stomach. I don’t really know why. And then Shaun’s arm goes around Adam’s back. For fuck’s sake, Shaun. And then I hear raised voices. Something’s going on between Shaun and the barman. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what. The barman is refusing to serve Shaun, who’s getting irate. Jesus. Adam’s hand goes on Shaun’s back. It looks like he's trying to calm him down. Shaun finally gives up and comes back over, looking pissed off. Adam pulls a cheeky eeek face at me from the bar. “That barman’s a fucking DICK!” Shaun cries. I stand up but Shaun stops me. “Where are you going?” he says. I give him a confused look. “He didn’t say we had to leave,” he says, sitting down. I let out a little groan, annoyed. Shaun picks up an empty glass and puts it to his mouth. Like he’s trying to get the last tiniest drop out. God. Is this what I’m like when I’m pissed? I look over and the barman’s glaring at us. “Shaun - come on!” But he’s not budging. “I’m still drinking!” he says, picking up his empty glass. And now something else is happening. Adam’s hot mate is leaving and Adam is heading towards us. “You heading back to Johnson Hall, lads?” he asks us. He looks - what, I don’t know, a little nervous maybe? I’m confused. Did he really just ditch his mate to walk back with us? Or is this some sort of responsible teaching assistant thing? Making sure the drunk student leaves the SU bar and gets home safely? “Nope! Still drinking,” Shaun replies stubbornly. Me and Adam exchange a look. When we’re both just looking at him, Shaun finally gives in, groans and stands up. “Where’s your room?” I ask Adam, feeling oddly nervous. He tells me Prince Hall. Okay - so that makes a bit more sense. You have to walk through Johnson Hall to get there. As the three of us file out of the bar, Shaun points at Adam. “Your ears are MASSIVE!” he cries. Oh my GOD. “Really?! No one’s ever mentioned that before,” he says dryly. “You're kidding!” Shaun cries, completely failing to recognise the sarcasm in Adam’s voice. Adam looks over at me and smirks. “Deano thinks I’m jealous cause he’s going to the McCarthy Classic,” Shaun slurs as we head back to our dorm room. Where the fuck did that come from? “But I’m not!” Shaun protests. “Cause, you know … I’ll get there one day.” I feel a tug of sympathy for him. “You will, mate,” Adam says sincerely, as he pats his shoulder. “You’ve just gotta be patient.” I feel an unexpected warmth as I look over at Adam and Shaun. “And the thing is - we don’t know what’s gonna happen when we graduate,” Shaun says as he drunkenly rambles on. “ANY of us could become Mr Olympia. Even Henderson!” Shaun pats Adam’s back. “You’re sound, mate! I approve of … this …,” he says waving a pointed finger between me and Adam. My chest tightens sharply. What is Shaun saying? I can’t seem to look at Adam right now. “Deano’s my boy!” Shaun continues, putting one of his thick arms around my shoulder. I look over and Adam’s giving me a happy little grin. I put my arm around Shaun’s back, suddenly feeling a surprising warmth towards my roommate. “He’s, like, a PROPER, mate - you know? Mafra’s a SORT OF mate. Ash … ugh … he doesn’t give a shit. But Deano … he’s got my back, you know?” What the hell? Shaun never talks like this. I’m smiling to myself as I grip onto his back. “So you better look after him when you’re in America,” he warns Adam. I nervously look over at Adam. He’s got this sort of coy smile on his face. “Well, I would if I was going!” Wait - what? I feel a kick to my stomach. “Are you not going?!” I ask. He presses his lips together tightly and gives me a pitying head shake. What the fuck? How can Adam not be going to Chicago? I’m sure he said the other day he was going. I’m gutted. I’m actually, genuinely gutted. My chest tightens at that thought. “Awww, mate. Gutted for you!” Shaun says. “Although … I can kinda relate!” Then Shaun gasps. “We can go to the SU bar that weekend.” When we reach our dorm room, Shaun stretches his arms out and hugs Adam. I can’t help smiling. (While also feeling an unexpected pang of jealousy.) “Is he gonna be alright?” Adam asks when Shaun goes inside the room and it’s now just the two of us at the door. It’s like he wants to stay and chat to me. “Yeah! He’ll be fine,” I say, rolling my eyes. “So … you’re really not coming?” I ask, feeling nervous. “To Chicago?” Adam shakes his head. “Afraid not, mate. It was all arranged months ago. Before the teaching assistant thing came up.” “Oh right,” I say. “That’s a bit shit.” “I thought about booking a ticket for myself and coming with but, hmmm, I dunno, that feels a bit … desperate?” I smile and nod. I can’t believe he’s not coming to Chicago. Although, I guess when I think about it, I probably wouldn’t have been hanging out with him much anyway. I’d be with Ash and Mafra. Adam would have probably hung around with Walker and the other lecturers. “At least I get a long weekend off,” Adam says. “I’ll probably go back home to see the folks.” “Where’s home?” “Have you heard of a place called Sandwich? Promise I’m not making that up!” “That’s in Kent, isn’t it?” Adam nods. So he lives in Kent? That’s not a million miles away from Brighton. Not that that’s remotely important. Or even relevant. “Not exactly the most exciting place to grow up,” he says. I tell him I’m from Brighton and Adam’s mouth curls into a little smile. “I know!” My chest tightens. How does Adam know where I’m from? A shadow flickers across Adam’s face. “Deano’s Gym?” he says, awkwardly. “It’s kinda famous!” I relax instantly (while feeling like a bit of a dick). “Well … famous if you’re a bodybuilder from the South.” I hear a loud crash from inside the dorm room. “Erm. I think I’d better …,” I say. Adam laughs and nods. “Thanks for … you know,” I say, feeling awkward. Adam looks puzzled. But he’s smiling. “I didn’t realise I did anything,” Huh. Maybe he wasn't trying to be a responsible teacher after all. Maybe he just wanted to walk home with us. “Except being told I’ve got massive ears!” I bite my lip to try and hide my smile. But I know it’s no use. Adam’s smiling back at me. “See ya Monday, Deano,” he says, going to walk away. But he stops and turns back. “Ummm … are you ever gonna follow me back on Instagram?” Erm. What the fuck? I have no idea what to say. Adam grins at me in that kind of coy way and then walks off. Leaving me to stand there at my door, feeling confused and oddly warm as I look at his thick juicy arse in his trackies. I go into my room, my thoughts running away with me and this weird, exciting feeling going through me. Because, for the second time tonight, I'm starting to wonder about the possibility that Adam Lloyd is like me.
    22 points
  26. Chapter 16 The sun had just set, Jack was driving down the unlit road, looking for the right address. He shifted in his seat, unsure of his costume. It was his first Halloween party, and he didn’t know what was going to happen. Looking in the mirror, he laughed as he saw his reflection. He had spent the last month growing out his beard, letting it fill in. Last night he had shaved the sides, grooming a thick goatee. Scratching his day’s worth of stubble, he was sure it wouldn’t hurt the look. He was dressed like an 80’s powerlifter. His big frame was dressed in a brightly colored lycra along with some ankle warmers and a black curly wig. Scratching his thicker chest hair, it had started coming in stronger recently, good timing for the costume. Pulling into the driveway, he saw a lineup of cars. Stepping out onto the crunchy leaves on the ground, he closed his door. Feeling his cock start to stiffen from the costume, a bit annoyed at how obvious it was in the tight nylon. Walking past a lifted truck, his heart beat in his chest as he recognized it. Cal was here. His dick instantly filled with blood, the throbbing cockhead pressed into his furry gut. Feeling his blood rush through his ears, Jack walked to the entrance, peering inside. It looked pretty packed, walking inside, he was suddenly aware that he towered over almost everyone. Seeing a few girls point and smile at him, his mustachioed face broke into a grin. Wading his way through the crowd, he received compliment after compliment, blushing after each one. Jack felt his cockhead pulsing against his gut, flaring as he got more and more stares. Looking around, he could hear a thunderous voice rising above the noise of the party. Finding his way into another room, he passed by some faces he half-recognized. Entering the other room, he could feel the floor shaking. He could see two heads rising high above the rest of the crowd. He could see Ethan and Cal bumping into each other, both flexing in the dark room. Waddling over in his lycra, Jack could feel his cock thumping wildly, his nuts chafing in the tight nylon. Walking closer, Jack could smell the hot stench of sweat and cum filling the air. Licking his lips, Jack felt his stomach rumble as he got within full view of Cal and Ethan. Both of them towered over everyone else, a crowd of students surrounding them. They were each flexing, arguing over who was bigger now. Taken aback, Jack couldn’t tell at first. They looked pretty equal. Cal stood eye level with Ethan, and both looked straight at each other with a mixture of hunger and anger. He hadn’t seen much of Ethan or Cal since school started. Right after Cal dropped out, Ethan followed suit, presumably trying to match Cal’s level of bulk. It looked like he didn’t just match it, he caught up. Both of them stood barefoot on the floor, their feet spread out to accommodate their overpacked legs. Cal was nearly naked, save for a battered loin cloth that did little to conceal the bulk of his package. His overgrown body hair covering him nearly head to toe, his beard and hair messed up, and dirt smeared on his face, he was the epitome of a hormonal-driven caveman. His hairy quads swelled outwards as each of their massive heads flexed and bulged beneath his skin. His loincloth was probably the size of a garbage bag. Encompassing his Kardashian-sized ass-cheeks and pulling up his swollen package. Jack could see each of his basketball-sized nuts filling out the bottom of the fabric, it was a miracle they didn’t rip through under their weight. Pushed down the side and across his hip, his thick cock flexed angrily inside the fabric. He definitely wasn’t fully hard, but Jack could see that he was aroused. Looking up further, his rigid abdominals lead his thick treasure trail up to his massive pecs. Each one bigger than a 50 lb bag of rice, covered in thick hair and pushing out by nearly a foot and a half. Each of his doorknob sized nipples looked hard enough to cut glass, pushed down vertically by the mass of his pecs. Across from his broad shoulders, each of his massive biceps flexed, pressed into his shoulders and traps. With his hand, he managed to palm his bicep, his muscled forearm pressed into it. Grinning his flawless smile, he growled as he flexed his massive pecs, pushing them out even more, his huge nipples almost disappearing under the overblown mass of his pecs. Roaring in his thunderous voice, “WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THAT LIL GUY?” Jack watched as Ethan shifted his shoulders, flexing his traps. Already they grazed his ears, pushing up higher and higher. Taking him in, Jack felt his cock gushing out more precum. He had somehow found a fake roman chestplate big enough to cover his upper body. Each of his massive hairy pecs eclipsed the fake metal, pressing out on all sides. Going down, his tree trunk legs were draped with an overstretched kilt and fake pteruge. Even in the front of the armor, you could see his massive bulge pressed out. Looking down, Jack could get a glimpse of the massive warrior’s nuts strapped in with a pouch on the verge of tearing. The hype masculinized Hercules flexed his biceps, performing a flawless double bicep pose. Each of his peaks raised up to his palms. Gripping the muscles, Ethan smirked. Flexing them bigger, Jack could see his hands pushed upwards by the growing muscles. Flexing his pecs, the fake armor began to crack, the plastic breaking as his enormous chest muscles broke through. Each of his meaty pecs pumped as big as Cal’s. Flexing his swollen thighs, his hairy leg muscles tore through the fabric. Ripping off the roman-style skirt, Ethan was clad only in his overfilled pouch. The crowd around Jack was going crazy. Girls were shrieking, guys were either drooling or yelling. Picking sides, a slow chant began to fill the room. “Cal….. Ethan…… Cal!...... Ethan!......CAL!!!..... ETHAN!!!...CAL!ETHAN!CAL!ETHAN!!!” On the crescendo, both Ethan and Cal ripped off their loincloths, freeing their humongous equipment. Both of their massive dicks immediately began growing hard, filling with blood at the sound of the chants around them. Both Ethan and Cal were still flexing their muscles, refusing to relax, refusing to shrink before the other. Their melon-sized cockheads creeping up past their pecs, they had to step aside as their tips grazed each other. Jack nearly blew his load up his lycra. Prying his eyes off of the scene, he could see most of the crowd losing it already. The room stunk of cum. The chants grew louder, each chant followed by Cal or Ethan flexing their muscles, trying to out match the other.. Ethan and Cal took a step forward, the floor shaking as they did. Everyone was staring intently, unsure of what they were about to see. “LET’S SEE WHO’S BIGGER WHERE IT REALLY COUNTS!” Cal bellowed. “READY TO LOSE?” Ethan shouted. Stepping up to each other, both pushed their dicks down, angling them against each other. Seeing both of their ass-splitting cocks rubbing against each other as they measured, Jack exploded up his lycra, his hot cum gushing against his stomach before leaking down his legs. Watching as his dick continued shooting, Jack felt his heart jump as he saw Cal step closer, his cockhead clearly pressed into Ethan’s waist while Ethan’s was short by a couple inches. “FUCK YEA!!!!!” Cal roared. “I HAVE THE BIGGEST FUCKING COCK IN HISTORY!!!!” Standing back, Cal flexed his arms, his cock swinging up and smacking his swollen pecs. Jack started drooling, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the engorged purple cockhead. Cal began walking around, flexing his cock as his hefty nuts swung back and forth. “I WOULDN’T BE TOO SURE OF THAT!” Ethan called back the attention of the room, his face breaking into a wide grin. “OKAY BIG JIM! GIVE IT TO ME!” Jack watched, perplexed, as Ethan held his head back, rolling his shoulders. Immediately, Jack could tell what was happening, he reached for his pulsing cock, jacking it off furiously. Precum was spurting all over him and on the floor, lubricating his fist as he pumped his shaft. He drooled as Ethan lifted his jacked arm, slowly flexing his bicep. Jack watched it reach its peak, quickening his pace as he watched the peak rise higher. His bicep turning a deep red color, it swelled another inch, an angry vein throbbing with more and more blood as it thickened, spreading across the massive arm. Feeling his big nuts ready to pull up, Jack held back, if only for a few seconds. Quickly, the rest of Ethan’s body turned a deep shade of red as his face contorted. He was grunting deeply, shriveling his brow as it looked like every muscle was flexing itself. Jack had to force his eyes open in the middle of cumming to watch as Ethan’s musculature swelled and flexed bigger. He was raising his shredded arms, flexing his chest and lats as they filled with blood. His pecs were growing faster and faster, swelling a little bit with each flex, each surge pushing his growing nipples further and further down. Soon, they were close to the size of doorknobs as his meaty pecs surged bigger, forcing them down vertically. His biceps were pumping larger, stretching his paper thin skin tighter. Jack could see more and more veins erupting as the tense arms exploded with power. Ethan brought his arms behind his back, feeling the larger muscles stretch themselves tighter as he flexed his growing pecs and flaring lats. The base of his cock was tingling the whole night in anticipation, but now it was practically buzzing. Shuffling his shoulders, he grinned as he made eye contact with Cal, his eyeline a good inch and a half higher than him. He looked out among the crowd, completely towering over everyone. Barefoot and nearly 6’10, Ethan was a fucking giant now. His muscles, if they were unflexed, would be bigger than any bodybuilder he dreamt of sucking off. He had forever idolized someone with absolute control and power, dominating inferiors with sheer size. Looking around, he knew it was his time. Gripping the base of his swelling cock, Ethan began to pleasure himself, feeling the callouses of his rough hands stimulate every square inch of his monstrous cock. His fuck-machine was bigger than a fucking clydesdale’s, meant to dominate anyone before it. Watching his thick cockhead peak above his pec-filled eyeline, he felt elated seeing that it had grown too. He had known this was coming for a long time now, his epic growth. He had even taken measurements earlier that day just to see his progress. This morning he had jerked off his giant 17” cock; but now, it looked closer to two feet. Two fucking feet of his meat throbbing and ready to blow. He knew he was 6’8 this morning, but he had to be over 6’10 now, looking further down at Cal. Seeing his own pecs fill his vision, he compared them to Cal’s. He was easily much bigger now. Making each one jump, it felt twice as heavy, filled with mass. Flexing them, he felt the inner skin of each of his massive chest muscles press into each other. It felt like he could fucking compress carbon with these chesticles. Flexing his arms, each one was bigger than a basketball, filled with power and capable of anything. Watching his muscle move underneath the skin as he rubbed his cock, the movement only turned him on more. He had just crossed 420 lbs that morning, but with each second it felt like more and more had piled on. He would have to measure himself later, and would probably break his industrial scale with all this mass. Feeling the growth slow down, he gave one final flex, trying to milk out the last of the growth. Seeing his skin flush, and return to normal, he sighed, relaxing his tense body. “Hehehe,” he rumbled, “You wanna try and measure again?” Seeing Cal’s face turn beet red, Ethan stepped forward. Placing his swollen cock on top of Cal’s he saw that he had easily eclipsed the man. The tip of Cal’s 19-incher was at least half a foot away from Ethan’s thick base. Seeing Cal falter, he went for it, he was king now. Pressing his big mitt onto Cal’s muscled shoulder, he forced him down, face to face with his flaring cockhead. He leaned back as he felt Cal’s warm mouth begin to swallow his enormous cock. Gasping for breath as he felt each extra square inch return tenfold with pleasure, Ethan’s massive balls quickly tightened. Forcing Cal lower and lower, feeling inch after inch become encompassed with the warmth of a subbing muscle bull, Ethan’s overfilled nuts quickly reached their breaking point. Feeling gallon after gallon erupting from his thick cock, Ethan bellowed, flexing and pressing his hands into the low ceiling. Feeling his power increase as he cracked the plaster, his hips swinging wildly back and forth as he spewed his load. The ringing in his ears subsided, Jack felt his cock erupt again. Everyone around him was chanting, cheering, roaring. The room stunk of cum and sweat. His breath nearly stopped as he saw Ethan extract his cum-soaked cock from Cal, rubbing the still-hard tool. Feeling his own cock flex and stretch as he tried to feel what that must feel like, Jack couldn’t take it anymore. He pushed through the crowd, his half-naked body covered in sweat and his legs stained with cum. The smell thickened as he stepped up to Ethan. Looking up further into his hypermasculine face, seeing him look back at him like never before. He immediately kneeled down and tried his best to suck his still hard cock. Right away he felt Ethan tense up again, his enormous cockhead slid right down his throat, coated with cum and saliva. Feeling his mouth widen more and more as his cock thickened monstrously, Jack tried his best to relax his throat. Finding his rhythm, he swallowed another inch of the massive dick. Inhaling Ethan’s thick musk, his cock spurted another load on top of the already growing puddle of cum on the floor. Tensing his shoulders, Jack began to power suck, wanting to please his new size. Ethan’s cock throbbed harder, filling with more blood as Jack’s suck made it swell to a new size. The spongy head bursting another inch forward, Jack sputtered for a moment, before relaxing and returning to his vacuum-like sucking. His lungs inhaled rapidly, thirstily sucking in more and more of Ethan’s growing cock. Within seconds, he felt his stomach fill with load after load of Ethan’s cannon-like cum. Each load felt like a big meal, and it kept growing. Forcing his cock out as his gut distended with cum, the massive cockhead burst out, followed by another thick spurt of cum. Firing into the crowd above Jack’s head, he saw the thick hot liquid erupt like a volcano. Feeling hungry with his already full gut, Jack sucked down again, forcing more and more cum down his throat. It felt like Ethan had a never ending supply, and looking at his watermelon-sized cum factories, he probably did. Lying down in the puddle of cum, another few thick spurts covering him again with the oatmeal-like liquid. His gut extended past his pecs, throbbing and filled with jizz, he moaned as he rubbed the tender space. His dick rubbing against the underside of his gut, Jack moaned, feeling hornier than ever. Looking over, he watched as Cal’s musculature turned a deep red, each one of his muscles flexing and tensing rapidly. Feeling his cock rub more and more, Jack tried to get up, unable to roll over with his massive swollen gut. He stared, panting, as he watched Cal stand up, taller than before. Watching the hairy man, covered in cum, look into Ethan’s eyes, Jack watched as he inched closer, quickly filling the height gap between them. Closing his eyes as his body was taken over by a small convulsion, Cal grunted and forced himself through it. It felt like his entire body had been through a grueling, record-breaking workout. Then, 30 seconds later, he felt rejuvenated and filled with more energy than before. Then his body convulsed again, the feeling returning stronger than before. He looked down as his furry pecs pushed forward some, then some more, and then even more. His biceps were filling and stretching his skin, adding inch after inch of muscle to his arms. He felt his upper back thicken with muscle, growing in width and power as his traps pushed higher. His shoulders broadened, giving his biceps and pecs more room to grow. He quickly filled the space as his upper body flexed, then swelled. Licking his lips, the salty sweet mixture still coating them, he felt more and more alive, more and more filled with power. His cock felt like it could fuck for hours, maybe days. It needed to fuck something soon, each spurt of growth making him hornier and hungrier for a hole to fuck. He felt his cock thicken, that familiar feeling returning. Feeling it wobble up and down, the weight trying to force it further and further down. Instead watching as he flexed his cock, the shaft pushed upwards now. It was covered in veins and arteries, growing thicker by the second. Each spurt adding more size to his powertool. The air grew more humid as his musk filled the room. Filling his nostrils with the intoxicating aroma, Cal felt his muscles tighten. Squeezing his chest, his pecs forced themselves forward more and more, making his big nips further down. Feeling his hairy chest, Cal groaned, massaging the tender skin. He always loved having a big powerful chest, but it felt superhuman now. Each of his pecs felt bigger than two watermelons. Looking down at what he could see, it felt like he was as big as Big Jim now. Looking side to side at his swelling biceps, he grinned more and more. Looking dead ahead, he was eye level with Ethan. Staring at his worried face, Cal smirked. Massaging his swelling cock, he felt the familiar flesh, and quite a bit more. It felt monstrously thick, filling his hands with his god-like meat. Swinging the hefty schlong from side to side, he could feel his growing cockhead flare, filling with blood from the centrifugal force. He felt powerful having a dick this big, he understood how Ethan must have felt achieving this. Looking around, he glanced at the hungry eyes of the crowd. He barely noticed the din, the blood was pumping through his ears too hard. Finding his footing, he stomped forward, feeling his cockhead once again poke into Ethan’s rock-hard core. Looking down, they were about even, it was too close to tell. Seeing Ethan’s scowl, he knew it would be a fight to get him to take this. Looking down, he saw Jack’s beleaguered body, flat on the floor. He looked ready to pass out. His naked body was covered in sweat and cum. His pumped muscles were shining with sweat, he was groaning as he rolled from side to side. His inflated gut was rumbling audibly. Seeing Jack’s throbbing cock spurt out a thick glob of precum, he went with his dick’s urges. Squatting down, he felt his thighs thicken and flare out as his muscles pumped like never before, supporting his new massive weight. His enormous nuts grazed the floor, sending tingling shock waves up his spine. Picking up Ethan’s arm, he dragged him up, turning him around. Staring at his muscled back, Cal’s cockhead grazed the hot skin, dragging down until it found the two basketball-sized glutes. Digging inside, Cal flexed his dick harder and harder, adding tension to the stimulating feeling. He felt Ethan’s hole grip him tighter, fighting his entrance. Shoving inch after inch deeper inside of him, Cal grunted louder, his nuts swinging wildly as he bucked like crazy. Gripping Jack’s shoulders, he brought him closer, forcing him to bend over to allow more of his dick inside the warm space. Each movement of Jack’s hole tingled and tickled his flesh, his whole body was shaking from the intense feeling. Feeling another spurt hit him, his cockhead flared wider, forcing Jack’s hole apart more. Seeing his pecs swell a little bit, he widened his stance, resuming his fuck. Feeling the hot flesh of Jack’s thighs grip his base as he thrusted forward, Cal felt like a lock inside of a key. It was the tightest grip he had ever felt, it was incredible. Looking forward, he could see Jack stirring and groaning louder. Jack had to step lower and wider as he grunted and tensed his body. Feeling the increased pressure squeeze his dick, Cal’s nuts unloaded their contents like a tsunami. Torrents of cum erupted out of him, filling the room with an even damper scent of cum. Flexing his biceps, Cal continued fucking Jack hands-free, feeling his big nuts swinging, hitting his legs with loud slaps. He flexed his thighs, feeling his quads swell and bulge, each fiber of his muscle felt powerful, ready to tear something in half. He felt alive. Looking down again, he could see Jack’s skin turning a deep shade of red. Feeling his hole tighten again, Cal’s heart sunk, his dick throbbed harder and harder in the tight space. Quickly shuffling back, he felt the tightening ass squeeze his thick tool as he extracted himself from Jack. Dripping cum with loud splats, Cal felt his dick fill with blood again as it exited the hole. Stepping back, he mildly rubbed his cock as he watched the growth unfurl before him. Seeing Jack’s wobbling gut, he knew it was filled to the brim with their cum, and whatever Big Jim had planned, it would surely be big. Instantly he saw his head rise an inch, then another, then another. Quickly Jack was filling the gap between the three of them. He passed 6’6, then 6’7, then 6’8. With each spurt his muscles tensed harder, filling with tension and then releasing. But with each flex, his muscles never shrank, they just tensed again, and didn’t shrink. He was growing faster than both of them. Stepping back, Jack felt dazed. His entire body was throbbing. Every part of him felt like it had an erection, and that he was only semi-hard. His aching gut hurt less and less with each beat of his heart. He stepped back again, finding his footing. He had to look down to steady himself, he felt like he might throw up. Getting dizzy from the increased height difference, he had to look down farther. Looking up at the ceiling, he was much closer to it than before. Looking around, he now towered over the screaming crowd. He was growing closer and closer to Cal and Ethan. Seeing them jerk their huge cocks at him, he felt his own cock swell from the attention. Looking down at his hairy chest, he saw it fill his vision more and more. He was growing closer to one of those muscle freaks he dreamed about, who would do anything to get jacked. But now, he was outgrowing even that fantasy. Watching as his pecs surged past the size of king-sized pillows, he felt his big nipples tingle as they were pushed down. Feeling his turtle-shell abs push through his big gut, Jack could still feel all that cum sloshing inside of him. Flexing his biceps, he saw the soccer-ball sized head swell in front of his very eyes. His forearms flexed with power, thickening with strength. His neck cracked into place as his traps filled the sides of his head. He felt his back thicken as his shoulders broadened. It was like having an orgasm in the middle of a mind-blowing workout. He felt incredible. Stepping forward again, he felt his dick wobbling heavily. Reaching down, he could feel the thick base fill his hands. Rubbing the swelling shaft, his heart nearly exploded just from seeing that this thick monster cock was his. Seeing his throbbing cockhead swell even bigger, he couldn’t help but double fist it with earnestness. Feeling his swelling nuts sink lower and lower, each basketball-sized orb was smacking his knees. His legs flexed and stretched as his quads thickened. He had to waddle as his thighs added on more and more mass. He felt his ass swell to monstrous proportions. Flexing his cock, Jack felt the immense mass push up, wobbling up and down. Grabbing his shaft with his calloused mitt, he began to massage the pulsating tip. Every inch of contact sent waves of pleasure down his shaft, he felt his ass flex in response. He was rocking from side to side. Standing back, he felt someone grip his pulsing shaft, curling his toes more as he felt his dick be felt by someone else. Suddenly, he felt someone’s lips engulf his cockhead, slamming his eyes shut, Jack swayed from side to side as his dick was suctioned down. Looking down, he could see Cal’s rippling back rolling from side to side as he sucked down inch after inch of his throbbing cock. Jack could feel the base of his cock stretching Cal’s lips more and more as he swallowed the last of his engorged shaft. Feeling his cockhead gripped by Cal’s throat, Jack gasped for breath, barely able to breathe when every spasm and contour of Cal’s throat sent exponentially greater magnitudes of pleasure down his shaft. Feeling his copper-wire like beard scratch his swollen nuts, Jack began to roll his cock around. Feeling Cal turn up the suction, he could feel his cockflesh expand as it was sucked down. Bringing back the muscle memory of when he tried cock-pumping, Jack could feel his cock growing longer and thicker as it tried to fill the vacuum. Rubbing Cal’s shoulders with his hands, Jack could feel every sinew tensing and relaxing through the hot skin. Feeling his traps pulse and swell as Cal once again sucked down furiously, Jack gasped. Cal’s strength pulsed under Jack’s fingers, making his nuts tingle. Sensing his nuts bouncing more and more as he bucked his hips, Jack knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Cal was not giving up, in fact, he was turning it up. Feeling Cal’s calloused hands squeeze his nuts as he sucked down even more, Jack felt his nuts take over. They emptied out what seemed like a biblical flood down Cal’s throat. His lips clamping down, Jack could feel Cal’s throat widen as he swallowed down every drop he had to offer. His hips bucked wildly, he had no control. Once he got started, he couldn’t stop, his body thrusted forward as he expelled his endless load. Gripping Cal’s tensing shoulders, Jack could feel his load start to lessen. Popping off of his engorged cock, Jack fired a few residual globs of cum onto Cal’s hairy chest. Standing back up, Cal looked Jack in the eyes, licking his lips as he swallowed the last drops of cum. Looking at the naked beast, he admired his new size, he looked enormous compared to the backdrop of average body types. Jack looked almost as hairy as himself, but he could tell that his chest hair wasn’t as thick and his beard wasn’t as long. His nuts looked ready to rival his own, two veritable cum-factories, the size of basketballs, even after shooting his load. His cock looked bigger after his vacuum-like suction, but it was definitely not as thick as his own, nor quite as long. Looking at his massive body, Cal could easily see the strength under the layer of flab, his biceps were pushing 26 inches and his chest looked well over 80. His gut looked huge, but powerful. Six tortoise-shell-like bricks were pushing out of his midsection. His thighs looked like they could squat a metric ton, same for his ass. ‘Man, did he have a plowable ass’ Cal thought, ‘I’m gonna have to break it in soon.’ Looking over at Ethan jerking off his own hefty cock, Cal felt his own dick twinge. “Guys”, Cal boomed, “I think that’s enough for now.” Looking at the crowd, Cal grinned. Feeling his dick start to harden, Cal grunted. “Which one of us is the BIGGEST?” he shouted, emphasizing the last word with a double-bi flex. Feeling his dick swell with blood as his cockhead flared angrily, Cal stepped forward. Looking side to side, he looked down at Ethan and Jack. Looking across the room, his ears filled with a growing chant. “Cal, Cal, Cal, CAL, CAL CAL, CAL!!, CAL!!!” Grinning from ear to ear, Cal felt his cock erupt. The first shot hit the far wall with a loud bang. Spinning around, Cal jerked his growing cock off as he shot his load into the crowd. Later that Evening The trio sat down on the concrete floor of Cal’s garage. Stomping downstairs, Cal entered with some towels. Bringing them to the backyard, they took turns hosing the cum off each other. Jack needed particular help in this matter. Drying each other off with the small towels, they congregated in the garage. It was nearly 3 am now. They weren’t able to tear themselves away from the party until 1. After Cal’s growth-induced cum explosion, the crowd went berserk, rushing the three. They were all groped and sucked to no avail. Posing and flexing their muscles for hours. Sitting on the ground again, Jack felt his nuts laid out on the cold floor, his cockhead brushing the floor after draping over his nuts. Ethan was in a similar place, except his dick rested solidly on the floor. Cal was sitting down on the groaning bench, his glutes nearly engulfing the poor thing. ‘Poof’ Big Jim stood in the middle of the three of them. Jack immediately felt his dick jump at the sight of the huge muscleman. Chuckling, Big Jim looked at them all. “So what did you think of that?” Ethan was the first, “Fucking incredible. Is that what Cal’s been experiencing this whole time?” Big Jim nodded, grinning. Cal rumbled, “well I wasn’t expecting that to happen to anyone else; thought it was just me that made them grow.” Big Jim sighed. “Well in a way. When one of you is growing, your cum can jumpstart another person’s growth potential. Well, that and my own little boosting,” Big Jim nodded to Ethan. Cal looked shocked, “Wait! You’ve been helping Ethan get big too! I thought you were gunning for me this whole time!” Big Jim, “Cal look at yourself, you’re bigger than you ever would have if you’d only been working out on your own. But a friendly, sometimes less than friendly competition, can really drive someone to grow bigger than they thought possible. Stand up Cal.” Cal groaned as he stood up. Looking down, his eyeline with Big Jim had changed. He now stood above him! Groping his muscles, Cal looked back and forth from himself to Big Jim. Lifting up his heavy package, he could see he had even outgrown him there too! Standing up, Ethan found himself just above Big Jim’s head. He was rivaling him in all areas too! Hoisting himself up, Jack clearly outmatched Big Jim. His bulk was bigger than Big Jim’s, and while they looked about matched in dick size, his nuts were clearly much bigger. Looking at him, he was just creeping above him. “You see?” Big Jim chuckled. He watched as they all began groping and flexing for themselves, taking in how much bigger they looked compared to him. After a couple minutes, Jack was on the verge of cumming again. “Alright that’s enough, take a seat.” Everyone sat down, still flexing different muscles.’ “Now you’re all past the point of no return. It won’t be easy. You’re gonna be too big for some people, too big for most things. Especially concerning those whale dicks you’ve got swinging around.” Jack looked around at Cal and Ethan massaging their cocks, he licked his lips at the sight of them. Big Jim continued, “now I think it’s time you guys move in together. Get some cash, get a place, live together. Who knows how much bigger you’ll get by then.” Jack felt his cock fill with blood. “Oh and one more thing, you better get a place with 4 bedrooms. There’s someone who’ll be moving in soon who’s outgrown his place.” Winking at Cal, Big Jim turned into a puff of blue smoke. Looking around at his naked cohorts, Ethan muttered, “who?” Cal grinned, thinking of how big he probably got if Big Jim was present. “Damian” To Be Continued
    21 points
  27. Chapter 7 - The Trooper As I stood looking at my full naked body reflected in the mirror, I couldn’t believe how much I had changed in the last 3 months. Today was the day for my first booster shot since I had my initial procedure, and I was at Dr Malik’s clinic anxiously waiting for him to arrive. I had spent the day going through hours and hours of tests, poked, prodded, and measured, all to provide Dr. Malik a baseline assessment for my initial reaction to this evening’s booster and a timeline marker as I progressed through his project. I still looked like me in the face except my skin was a little tighter, my eyes a little brighter and the puffy bags underneath had completely disappeared. My salt and pepper cropped hair was still there but had a thickness and shininess to it now and the same for my clipped short beard. And was it my imagination that there was less salt and more pepper than before? Maybe? It was hard to tell, but what wasn’t difficult to notice were the drastic changes in my body. Earlier in the day when David and I arrived, Big John had measured me at 5’10’’ ½ inches in height, up a ½ inch from my standard adult height all these years. My weight was 220 pounds and back to my typical weight before the car accident. However, the realignment of my muscle to body fat was incredible. In the past, I had never been a ripped guy always trying to get as massive as I could so my belly was never tight. Big John and David were arguing that my body fat percentage was now under 10%, with Big John saying no way and David proclaiming, “look at those abs and tell me he is not”. “Well, the Doc will put him through the tests, and we’ll find out soon enough that I’m right.” Big John ended the bantering and ushered David out of the room while he continued his measurements. Neck, Shoulders, Chest, Arms, Waist, Hips, Quads, Calves, Hands, Feet, and finally Cock, were all painstakingly noted, checked, and rechecked. Big John would never say the numbers, but he would sometimes give me a nod of approval. “Eyes forward!” he would bark when I would try to sneak a peek. I asked Big John during one of the breaks of his tasks, “Don’t get me wrong, you smell good, but you don’t have that amazing, musky scent like before that set me off?”. He smiled and said, “Yea, I’m wearing a blocker on my pits. I typically wear it, so my coworkers and patients aren’t constantly getting erections when they are around me. The night we met, I wasn’t wearing the blockers per the Doctor’s orders. He needed to get a semen sample and wanted to test how quickly you responded and were affected by my man-stink.” I laughed and asked, “Well, how did I do?” "One of the fastest response rates ever!” Big John said with a smile. “Most men have to be really close, and I have to be really sweaty with my pits exposed to set them off to a full orgasm. But you shot off like a rocket with me several feet away and still wearing my scrubs. It was only when I was naked and on top of you and smothered you in my big sweaty pits that you completely lost it!” My cock throbbed at the visual and I perked up remembering that night and how I had no memory after that initial overload. “Yea, your eyes rolled back, and your body went into a full clinched spasm. I think you were in a euphoric state for about an hour before you finally broke out of it and then passed out for the night.” The day continued with test after test, and my aching cock throbbing from being so near the enormous Big John all day. He was a walking fantasy man to me! "Your final test is to provide a sperm sample." Big John said matter of fact in his deep bass voice, "Plus it's time for me to get a nut so here's what we're going to do." My mind exploded with a million different sexual possibilities but not sure if this was one of them! "I'm going to put on some big titty porn and stroke this big dick while you're restrained over there in that chair in the corner. I'm going to put a condom on your penis to catch your semen so we can measure the volume of your output. We'll be repeating this controlled experiment every 3 months at your recurring booster shots." Big John spoke as if he was reading a recipe for oatmeal cookies meanwhile I was jumping out of my skin at the thought of watching this huge muscle beast work his 13 inch monster cock! Big John secured my wrists and ankles to the chair and placed a Magnum condom (that made me feel good) over my throbbing pole. He then turned on the monitor and hit play on the DVD remote, stripped quickly, and grabbed some lube and began stroking his enormous cock with both of his big paws. 'No–no words. No words to describe it. Poetry! They should’ve sent a poet. So beautiful. So beautiful… I had no idea.' The Jodie Foster quote popped in my head. I was mesmerized by the largest cock I had ever seen in the firm grasp of the largest bodybuilder I had ever seen. He had a wide stance, knees slightly bent, quads exploding out so far and thick they looked like one of those morphs I'd cum to so many times. His 8-pack abs locked in as he thrust his gigantic cock through the tight hole his hands had created. The pecs were engorged and if anything was out of sync to the overall beautiful symmetry of this musclegod, their thickness was beyond belief. I imagine my entire cock could disappear between those mountains of muscle. They were so full that his nipples not only pointed down they actually pointed somewhat in towards his abs below. "Fuck those big titties," Big John moaned as he watched a smaller version of his cock slide between two enormous fake boobs. He then released his left hand and continued stroking with his right, threw up a single bicep flex and looked over at me and smiled. That did it! The sight of that gargantuan bicep flex sent my cum blasting out of my engorged cock head in a hands free orgasm. I jerked in the chair as each rope blasted out and the condom began expanding rapidly filling with my load. Big John let out a deep guttural moan and then the floodgates opened as the first blast of his cum shot across the room in a steady stream landing 10 feet away. His orgasm was truly unbelievable if I didn't see it with my own eyes. It looked like he was never going to stop until finally after about 10 minutes the streams became regular ropes that became drips. "Fuck, I forgot to grab my jug and now I gotta clean up this mess." Big John frustratingly said shaking his head. "I'll do it!" I eagerly volunteered. Big John came over and pulled off the condom, carefully ensuring every drop was captured, released me from the chair, and said, "get to it then, little man." It took me about a half hour to clean it all up but being the cum slut that I am, I enjoyed every minute of it. Finally, Dr. Malik came in and reviewed all my test results, explained the next procedure and what I was to expect when I awoke from the sleeping meds. He told me that David would be notified and would be waiting to pick me up. We should immediately go straight home before the ‘Super drive' kicks in. Big John laughed and said, “Yea, for me, it usually would hit an hour after waking. I hope David is ready for ya, little man!” When I woke, I immediately felt a little soreness in my lower back but that quickly went away. Big John came to my bedside and said, “About time you woke up sleepy head. How are you feeling?” I shook the grogginess out of my head, “Great, had a moment of feeling soreness in my lower back but that’s gone, and I feel energized.” Big John then ordered me to stand up, he took my vitals and measurements again. 5’11’’ tall and 233# weight. Wow, I had grown a half inch in height and put on 13 pounds! He quickly grabbed the various muscle measurements telling me to flex this and flex that. He didn’t have to tell me to flex my dick as I was throbbing upright from the second that I awoke. “8 x 6.5 inches!” Big John said with appreciation as he let go of my fat meat, letting it slap my abs before pointing again at due north. I slipped on my gym shorts, tank top, socks, and sneakers. “Head on out little man and enjoy that Super drive!” Big John gave me a big slap on the ass with his gargantuan hand as he ushered me out the front door of the clinic. At 3 am, it was pitch black dark and no one was in the nearby area except for David waiting in the driver’s seat with the passenger door open. I climbed in and buckled up, David immediately sped off towards home and asked, “how are you feeling, daddy? You look fucking swole!” “I’m great, feel really good and energized and…” I replied, but was interrupted by David moaning, “Oh my god, daddy, that smell, you mmm, fuck, you smell like pure sex!” I glanced over to see his huge club cock tenting his basketball shorts and a wet spot where his precum was soaking through. Clearly, he was going commando. The car swerved as we were entering the on ramp to the expressway as David lost himself in the sexual bliss of my exposed armpits in my tank top. Obviously, the superpower that Big John had was now happening with me, as my pits were producing a pheromone laced smell that was sending David to an orgasmic state. I grabbed the steering wheel and righted our vehicle in the lane and pressed the down button opening my passenger side window. I told David to open all the windows and sunroof and that provided the escape of my scent and clarity needed for him to return focus to driving our car. I relaxed from the moment of panic of being in another auto accident when I saw and heard the flashing lights and siren of a police car racing up the ramp behind us. “Fuck!” David exclaimed. “It’s ok,” I replied in my calmest daddy voice, “just pull over up here to the side and we’ll get this straightened out.” As he pulled over, I realized that shirtless 6'5" David with a foot-long, rock hard cock tenting his basketball shorts with no underwear was going to be quite a sight for the Texas State Trooper as he walked up to our vehicle. The beam from his flashlight hit first on David and then me as he swept the vehicle. “License and registration please,” the State Trooper asked as he knelt to show his face. Damn Hot! He was about 5’7’’, muscular under his tight uniform, Asian looks, maybe Vietnamese, and probably in his early 30’s. His nametag said Officer Huang. “Have you gentlemen been drinking this evening?” he asked, as his flashlight swept from David to me, back again, then landing on the monster tent of David’s colossal cock. “No Sir.” We both replied in unison. “You were driving erratically as you entered the on ramp.” The sexy Trooper stated matter of fact, all the while his eyes and light beam locked in on David’s rock-hard meat. Just once I wished David would start to lose his erection, but he was the type that once he got hard, it stayed hard until he released, no matter what. “Sir, are you carrying any weapons? What is that in your shorts?” Said the Trooper as he nodded towards the club cock. “No weapons and that’s my erect penis, Sir. I haven’t seen my boyfriend in a while and, well, we are both excited to get home.” David said as innocently as he could muster. The beam of light went from David over to my aching boner and back again to David’s cock. “I’m going to need you to step out of the vehicle and perform a sobriety check test.” The Trooper said to David as he stepped back and allowed space for David to exit the vehicle. Officer Huang directed to me, “I’m going to also need your Identification and ask you to exit and step 5 yards in front of the vehicle in the headlights where I can see you.” I did as instructed and watched as David, now towering over the much shorter Trooper, listened intently to the instructions for the sobriety test. The trooper then did a pat down on David around his hips and ass, grabbing each leg, before fully gripping the hard 12 incher with both hands and giving it a squeeze from tip to base. Well, that seemed a little beyond protocol, but I was enjoying the show. David then extended his arms and did the ‘touch your nose with each finger’ test, his wingspan was vast when he fully stretched out compared to the smaller cop demonstrating the procedure. Successfully completing the first test, David then turned and did the step-over-step in a straight line 10 yards out before turning and repeating the steps back toward the officer. Being athletic saved him because it clearly was a struggle maneuvering around that foot long salami! “You may both re-enter your vehicle and I’ll be right back.” The Texas State Trooper spoke and then headed back to his vehicle. I heard David exhale as we settled into our seats, and I said, “You did great son, we’ll be on our way home in a few. He’s probably just running the plates and checking for any outstanding warrants. You’re good, right?” I said jokingly. “What, oh yea, daddy, I’m good. We’re good. It’s just stressful being pulled over but he was very nice and respectful. Did you catch how he grabbed my dick? And did you see his muscular ass when he walked back to his car?” David was clearly wound up and looking for sex. Before I could respond, we both noticed the muscular Trooper heading back to our vehicle. “Listen guys, I’m going to let you go with a warning, but I also want to make you an offer.” The Trooper spoke and had our full attention. “My brother has a Bodyshop garage at the next exit and my shift has ended. I think for everyone’s safety and wellbeing, I’d love to help you both take care of those huge hard cocks, if you’re interested?” David glanced at me, and I quickly nodded yes but I don’t think it even registered in David’s mind as he was going to do this regardless of my response. “Sounds great, Officer, should we follow you?” David enthusiastically responded. “Yes, we’ll park in the back. I have keys if my brother is not already down.” We followed the quarter mile to the next exit and pulled in behind the State Trooper’s vehicle in the rear of the building, neither of us spoke a word. We followed the Trooper to the back door and there was a light on in that part of the dark garage. He gave the door a quick knock and it opened unlocked. We followed the Trooper inside the office, and he said, “David and Jason, I'm Tony and this is my twin brother, Terry.”
    21 points
  28. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 5 Shafe and Marietta’s wedding was two weeks later. The rumor that Jason and I were getting married still circulated, but other than that, my life wasn’t much different at 400 than it was at 370. I took up more space and my chest had more of an intimate relationship with my chin, but once you’re humongous, it takes larger changes to mark extreme differences. I’m not going to lie; I quickly grew to delight in being a 400-pound Hercules. If I had known it felt this intensely satisfying, I would’ve stopped fighting it decades earlier. Soon enough, the wedding had arrived. Naturally, Shafe and Marietta had seen to the details of that, so I had been entirely out of planning the wedding ceremony itself. I had no idea what sort of new age, crystals-and-cymbals, incense-fumed rite it was going to be, but I was bracing myself for anything. Much to my complete surprise, they planned a civil ceremony at city hall, a perfunctory ceremony at that. Shafe didn’t want a religious service, just in case he picked the wrong deity and pissed off a god. It was only witnessed by me and Marietta’s maid of honor, a friend who’d flown down from Canada. Both Marietta’s dress and Shafe’s suit showed off just how buff this couple was. I, thankfully, had thought to request some stretch in my tux (in case I had any fun ideas for the reception). My tux was snug, but it still looked like it was tailored for a man of my size. All in all, it was just a simple and sweet ceremony. The reception afterwards, however, was garish, raucous, and lively. It was a huge party with a lot of dancing, rollicking, and noise. Thankfully, Marietta had done most of the planning for that, so I just got to show up and be a guest, though I did have to march in the processional with Shafe’s groomsmen. I was worried Jason was going to be in hell surrounded by such a crowd of people, but, for the most part, he had a pretty damn good time. He thought I looked hot in my tight tux and yellow bow tie, and it had been ages since we’d been out dancing. The food was excellent. The venue was resplendent. My best man’s speech went flawlessly. Everyone was so focused on the newlyweds that no one congratulated us on our non-existent engagement once. It looked like we were going to get out of the day unscathed. That is, until it was time to toss the bouquet. Marietta called all the unmarried women to the floor. Jason and I stayed seated in our chairs, as neither Jason nor I was an unmarried woman. Then, two of Marietta’s more muscular bridesmaids came over, picked Jason up, and carried him over to the pool of excited single ladies while he kicked and fought the whole way. Marietta insisted that Jason and I both had to participate too. When five of Shafe’s bodybuilder buddies came over to carry me, I went quietly rather than make a scene. From the stage, Marietta surveyed the crowd of unmarried women (and two gay men). She memorized exactly where Jason was standing, and when she turned her back, she threw the bouquet over her shoulder with precision accuracy right into Jason’s face. He caught it more out of reflex than a desire to catch it. The single ladies all screamed in a high-pitch squeal that dreamy Hollywood star Jason Prentiss had caught the bouquet, and the throng crushed in around us to revel in congratulations. It was like the Beatles being mobbed by a horde of teenage fans. Jason and I barely got back to our chairs alive. Once Jason had escaped the crowd, we turned to each other and said, “We’re never getting married,” in unison. “Never,” Jason added emphatically. “Never,” I repeated. “This is not who we are.” “Not even a little.” “We are not these people.” The rest of the reception was lovely, if overlong and overproduced. When we got home and I gave Jason back his deposit, we went almost immediately to bed to crash and decompress. We were just lying there, scrolling through our phones with the bedside table lamp on, enjoying the quiet of the night. After a few minutes, Jason spoke up, admitting, “There is one thing I’ll miss now that we’re never getting married.” “Let me have it,” I said. “Hold nothing back.” “The honeymoon. I heard that Shafe and Marietta are spending one week in the mountains of St. Moritz and one week on the beaches of Bora Bora. I don’t even like skiing, and it made me jealous. And the beach? An island with a tropic beach? I was beyond jealous of that.” “We can have a honeymoon without a wedding,” I said. “It’s called a vacation.” “Can we call our next vacation our honeymoon?” “Sure,” I said. “Can it be over-the-top and as unnecessarily lavish as Shafe and Marietta’s wedding? But just for the two of us?” Then, for emphasis, he added, “Alone? No crowds?” “Of course,” I said. “When’s your next hiatus? We can have our honeymoon then.” “My next big chunk of time off,” he said, consulting the schedule on his phone, “isn’t until April. One good thing I can say for this media storm: my show got a second season. We were on the bubble, and then I suddenly became the only celebrity anyone was talking about. The producers are using those two weeks for pre-production. I’ll get three months off at the end of filming the season, but that might as well be the other side of the moon.” “April when?” “Last two weeks,” he answered, double checking his calendar. “Perfect,” I said, putting it into my phone. “But that’s two months away,” he complained in an exaggerated voice. “Months of people asking when we’re going to get married. I was sort of hoping the honeymoon would be a vacation from that, too” “It’s just more time for me to plan,” I chuckled. “Wait, the last two weeks of April?” I asked to clarify. “Your birthday is the 23rd. I know you’re not a fan of birthdays. Are you still cool with late April?” “Absolutely. It happened to be my birthday. That’s not why we’re going.” “Excellent.” Offhandedly, he added, “Besides, I probably should celebrate my 30th.” I sat up in bed. “30th?” “Yeah,” he said, joining me. “I’m turning 30 in April.” That made not a lick of sense. “You had a film career for eight years before I knew you, and we’ve been together for two years.” “Your math is unimpeachable. I went to my first audition when I was 20. My then-boyfriend dragged me to an open call. When I got the part, I dropped out of college.” “You’ve been in your 20s this whole time we’ve been dating? I’ve been living with a man in his 20s?” “You thought I was older?” He seemed genuinely confused. “Should I be offended?” “I guessed you were in your mid-30s. Maybe late 30s at the most. Movie stars all look younger than they’re supposed to. I assumed you just looked like you were in your twenties.” “No, I’m in my twenties,” Jason confirmed. “For another two months, at least.” “The day we did the photo shoot in your studio, and I took ‘Krixby #1’…” I started. “I turned 28 that night,” Jason finished. “Yeah. You never asked me, so I assumed you already knew.” “It’s impolite to ask people’s ages,” I insisted. “I have a Wikipedia page. You could’ve Googled me.” “I’ve been living with a man in his 20s,” I said, still not believing it. “This isn’t going to be a thing for you, is it?” I shook my head. “Nope. It was just shocking and took a moment to process.” I kissed him on the forehead. “All processed now.” After a moment, he tentatively said, “How old are you? Because until you reacted like this, I thought you were about the same age as me.” “How old do you think I am?” I asked, intensely curious. “When we started dating, I thought you were 25 or 26.” “You thought I was younger than you?” “Yeah, but not by much. Not with muscles that big. When I found out you were The Repository, it made sense that you’d be that big so young.” “But…” This was so weird. “All of our friends are in their late 30s or their 40s. Did that not seem weird to you?” “I didn’t know they were that old. But, my friends have always been older than me,” Jason said, shrugging. “You’ve met Jonah. He and I went to high school together. Did you think he was younger than you too?” “Yes,” Jason said flatly. “I guess I suck at guessing people’s ages.” After a moment, he added, “Are H. K. and Paula really in their 40s?” “They, in fact, are.” Jason nodded, impressed. “They look damn good for their 40s. I’m going to ask for Paula’s skin care regime.” I nodded, then added, “So, until I freaked out, you thought I was 27 or 28?” “I did at that.” After a pause, he repeated, “How old are you?” “38,” I told him. “Cool,” Jason said. “I just aged a decade in your eyes, and your response is, ‘Cool’?” “It’s not really important. For a second I was worried you were much older than me and being The Repository made you look impossibly young. 38 is nothing.” Then, mirroring my gesture of affection, he kissed me on the forehead. “And you look really good for your age too. You could easily get cast as a bodybuilder in his late 20s.” “How have we never discussed this in two years?” “I don’t like birthdays, and we were too busy. Too busy discussing important stuff.” Moving on from my forehead, he kissed the right side of my neck where my traps rose up in an attempt to swallow it. “Too busy living.” He kissed the other side of my neck in the hollow valley formed by my impossible mass. “And too busy enjoying each other’s company,” he finished, grabbing my dick and giving it a few strokes. “Fair enough,” I said, turning out the light.
    21 points
  29. 20 points
  30. Three I don’t know how the fuck the lecturers expect us to do a normal day’s worth of lectures when the results of who’s been picked for the Future Pro’s Training Programme are being emailed out today. I can feel my phone practically burning in my pocket. My mobile data is on and my phone is on vibrate so if I get an email I’ll know. I’m just waiting for it to go off so I can be put out of my misery. I felt such a high when I hit the complete button on the online form last week. I think I did pretty well on the essay questions but I’ve been wrong about coursework and essays I think I’ve done well on in the past. But still - I’m fairly confident. Okay - maybe more than fairly. I keep thinking about telling my dad. He wouldn’t give a shit about the programme. But even if he didn’t show it or say anything remotely positive or supportive, I know he’d be impressed when I tell him about the prospect of going to the States and guest posing at the McCarthy Classic. And getting to pose in front of THE Brad McCarthy - my first ever muscle crush and the bodybuilder on the muscle magazine I stole from dad’s gym as a teenager. Ashley and Mafra have applied too. Ash helped out with Mafra’s essay questions, which will backfire on him monumentally if he gets chosen over Ash. (I didn’t wanna say that to him though when he told us in Advanced Posing Practice.) Shaun seems okay about the whole thing now too. Since our chat last week I guess. Who knows - maybe it’ll put a fire up his arse to work a bit harder. Which he could definitely benefit from doing. (I wouldn’t obviously SAY that to him though.) When my first lecture of the day has finished, I take my phone out straight away. Even though there’s no email notification sitting on my locked screen, I still go into my email app and refresh, just to make sure there’s not been a delay on my phone with it coming through (which sometimes happens). But when the refreshed screen doesn’t reveal any new emails, my heart drops. My mind starts spiralling when I’m sitting in Business and Brand Management for Bodybuilders. Because what if I DON’T get picked for the Future Pro’s Training Programme? What if they go for Woody or Banksy instead? Or someone else I haven’t thought of. Am I just setting myself up for a massive fall here? Thinking that I have a good chance of being chosen? What if my suspension last year works against me? What if they look at our records and I’m penalised because I had that one big fuck up in my first year that got me suspended? And just when I start thinking about the possibility of what WILL happen if both me and Woody get on the programme, I jump in my seat when Ash, who is sitting in the seat behind me, prods me in the back. He’s giving me an excited wide eyed look and has this massive grin on his face. Fuck. Could this be what I think it is? My chest tightens. I sneakily get my phone out of my pocket under the table, hoping I don’t get caught by Johnny Hoxton. There’s no email notification. What the fuck? How can Ashley know but not me? Maybe we’re all getting individual emails. I refresh the screen and my heart skips a beat. Because there it is. An email from [email protected] My chest expands as I sneakily check the email. My eyes scan down. Past the names of the three successful third-year applicants, I don’t recognise to the names of the three successful second years. Eric Mafra Ashley Mosaku Dean Watkins FUCK. I did it! I’m on the fucking programme! I turn around to a still grinning Ash, unable to stop from beaming back at him. I can barely concentrate for the rest of the lesson. The reality of what's happening sinks in. I’m going to be training with one of the lecturers (to be confirmed on Monday apparently) and I’m gonna get to fly to America to guest pose on stage at the McCarthy fucking Classic in Chicago, where I’ll see (and possibly meet!) the likes of Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson, Felix King and some of the other biggest muscle monsters in the industry. Not only that, I get to go with two of my best mates here at Montgomery. And no Sebastian Wood. He either wasn’t picked or didn’t apply in the first place. Which most likely means he’ll be a shoo-in when they run the programme again next year (we apparently can’t do it twice). The weird thing is, I know it would have been kind of awkward if Woody had gotten a spot too, having to go to America with him and all of that, but there’s a part of me that feels kind of bad that he didn’t get a place. I just know how gutted I would have been to have not seen my name on that list. And I’m not sure how he’ll feel when he sees MY name on the email that got circulated earlier with the names of the students picked. Maybe he and Henderson are in their dorm room talking about me right now. Slagging me off. Saying how I don’t deserve it. Maybe they slag me off all the time. Or maybe they hardly ever talk about me. I’ll probably never know. Shaun isn’t home when I get back to the dorm room. I’m sure he’s seen the email. I hope he’s okay about the whole thing. I know he’s seemed okay this past week, but maybe that will change now it’s been confirmed that his three best mates are on their way to one of the biggest bodybuilding shows on the planet. Ash has already posted about it on Instagram. Loads of people have been congratulating him (half of them guys here who he doesn’t even speak to). I’m not gonna do that though. I can’t really be bothered to deal with that kind of attention. But there is someone I want to tell, and now I’m in the dorm room by myself, it feels like a good time. I don’t know why, but I’m always really embarrassed to talk to my dad when Shaun’s around. I fire up the contacts list on my phone and jump on my bed. “Deano?!” Dad asks, with a tone of urgency, as if something’s wrong. “All right, Dad?” “Yes? What do you want?” he said in a short, sharp tone. Fuck’s sake. He’s annoying me already. Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered phoning him. “Charming!” I say, sarcastically “Eh?” he says in a confused tone. Jesus Christ. “I’ve got something to tell you!” I say, further regretting the whole thing. There’s a weird pause. “Right,” he says, in a weird tone. Another awkward pause. I suddenly feel oddly nervous. What the fuck does my dad think I’m about to say? I tell him all about the programme and going to the McCarthy Classic. And then I braced myself for his response. “Oh yeah?’ he says sarcastically. “And who the BLOODY hell is paying for that?!” he barks. I shake my head to myself, failing to smirk. For FUCK’S sake, Dad. Why did I expect anything more? “Is Shaun okay about the whole thing?” Mafra asks me on Monday morning. Me, him and Ash are walking through one of the Prince Hall corridors. We have an “induction” to the programme. Which will probably just involve sitting in a classroom doing a load of listening to the lecturers for an hour. “Mmmm,” I tell Mafra. “He’s all right. I think.” I look over at Ash, who doesn’t seem fazed by the conversation. I’m half telling the truth. Shaun said congrats to me when he got back home from the gym last Friday, which I thought was a good sign. But then he was a bit quiet for the rest of the night. “He hasn’t said much about it,” I tell Eric. That’s a lie. Shaun hasn’t said ANYTHING about the programme since then. Which I’m definitely not taking as a good sign. Maybe he just needs a bit of time to get used to the idea. I didn’t really think about who else would be in this induction. So I’m a little taken aback when I find Adam Jug-Eared Lloyd bursting out of a tight white t-shirt with some kind of protein-based brand name printed on it sitting at the front of the room with Dave Walker, Mike Hancox and Johnny Hoxton (not exactly my favourite teacher and I’m convinced he hated me for most of the first year but he seems okay with me now). Two third-year monsters (one of whom I definitely remember from last year’s end of year bodybuilding show) are already sitting together and talking quietly to each other. They seem to be eyeing the three of us up as we sit down. “We’re just waiting for one more, lads,” Johnny Hoxton announces. when we’re all just sitting there with the minutes passing. All the time I’m trying not to stare at the recently earned pro bodybuilder and now teaching assistant of Dave Walker who’s currently bulging in a tight white t-shirt As the minutes pass without the final third-year student making an entrance, I can sense everyone, particularly the three lecturers, starting to get a bit impatient. Hancox keeps looking at his watch and seems to be scowling harder with every passing second. Which is why I can’t help smirking when that very final third-year student casually strolls in gulping from a protein shaker, either completely oblivious to the fact that he’s late and we’ve all been sitting here waiting for him, or just not giving a shit about it. So I guess I’m not the only short-arsed pocket rocket in the programme. This guy looks slightly taller than me, but it can’t be by much. He’s definitely bigger than me though. He’s a right little tank, in fact. I can see that, even though he’s covered up by a black tracksuit. I can’t find anything nice to say about his brunette hair, which is neatly styled into a flat mohawk, though. I notice the other two third-years exchanging sly smirks at his arrival, one of them rolling his eyes. Mike Hancox meanwhile is just glaring at the latecomer unimpressed. A slightly annoyed looking Johnny clears his throat, stands up and finally kicks off the induction. He explains that each lecturer will take on two students (one second-year and one third-year), warns us how intense the training will be and reminds us that we’ll be spending three nights in Chicago for the McCarthy Classic at the beginning of March. And then he says something which causes a feeling of instant dread in the pit of my stomach. He wants all six students to introduce themselves to the group. For FUCK’S sake. I absolutely hate doing shit like this. I never know what to say without making myself look and sound like a complete knob. The familiar-looking third-year monster (a biracial guy with a gap tooth who I have to admit isn’t completely unattractive) introduces himself as Keiran and his mate (a not so attractive and rather rough-looking lad with a shaved head who wouldn’t look out of place at my dad’s gym) introduces himself as Connell in a rather sexy Irish accent. Both of them are ridiculously confident while doing so. As is Ash (predictably). And then it’s my turn. Fuck. “Erm. My name’s Deano,” I say. Why do I feel so nervous? There are only three people in this classroom I’m not formally acquainted with. I guess four if you count Adam Lloyd (whose direction I’m struggling to look in). “Umm. I’m like Ash - second year.” There’s an awkward pause in the room. Everyone is still looking at me. Are they expecting more? Johnny finally speaks, thanking me and moves on to Mafra, leaving me with the feeling that that went fucking terribly. As Mafra is introducing himself, I look over to find the short-arsed third-year with the mohawk not looking at Mafra but looking at ME. This weird, sort of ominous smirk on his face as he obnoxiously chews on gum. What the fuck? I immediately feel nervous. And kind of uncomfortable Why is he just looking at me like that? And then it’s HIS turn to introduce himself. But unlike everyone else, he fucking STANDS UP to do so. I’m starting to get the impression that this guy might be a bit of a knob. “All right, lads?” he says in a deep commanding voice that has a fairly strong Welsh accent, looking straight at me, Ash and Mafra. God, he’s confident. “I’m Ozzie. I’m from Cardiff.” Ozzie? Did he just say his name was fucking Ozzie? What kind of twat name is that? And if that wasn’t enough, he now seems to be LISTING bodybuilding competitions he’s won. Including the (then) second-year category at the end of year bodybuilding show last summer. And now I’m suddenly having a flashback to being in the audience of that very show which I sadly missed out on qualifying for due to my suspension. And, just like I remembered Adam Lloyd from that very competition, I now remember this guy too. In fact, I can’t believe I forgot about him. Because he was the cockiest and loudest competitor on the stage. AND the most annoying. As Ozzie (I just - I can’t with that name) starts telling us who his favourite bodybuilders are which NO ONE ASKED HIM TO DO I look over at Ash, who’s furrowing his eyebrows at Ozzie. Ash looks at me and pulls a face which tells me he’s forming a similar opinion of this guy as I am. I smirk back at him. It’s kind of interesting how this guy isn’t looking at the other third-years throughout this whole introduction. Not once. It’s almost like he’s making a point of NOT looking at them. I’m getting the sense that he doesn’t exactly get on with them. When Johnny takes over the reins again I notice Hancox pulling a face and slowly shaking his head to himself. Ha! I bet he fucking HATES this Ozzie guy. I’m biting my lip and smirking when my eyes suddenly fall on Adam Lloyd. And now I’m panicking. Because not only is he looking directly at me, but he’s actually smirking back at me. And then he does this little thing where his eyes briefly and cheekily widen. I look away in a panic. Because I don’t know what else to do. I can’t look back at him. But I feel a heat rising in my chest. And my cheeks feel flushed. Because I’m pretty sure that me and Adam Lloyd just shared a little moment. “So I’m guessing you lads are probably wondering which lecturer you’ll be training with?” Johnny says. I feel a pinch of excitement. At a guess, I’d say I’ve been put with Hancox. I’d be VERY surprised if I was training with Johnny Hoxton. I know someone back home in Brighton who once revealed he had a poster of Johnny on his bedroom wall who’d definitely be impressed if I did end up training with him. My stomach clenches. Why am I thinking about THAT person right now? “So I’ll be taking on Keiran and Ashley,” Johnny announces. I look over at Ash. He seems pleased, but then he’s always liked Johnny. Most people do I guess. “Eric and Connell. You’ll be with Hancox.” Okay - that’s a bit of a surprise. “Which means Deano and Ozzie … you’ll be training with Walker.” Ugh - why am I the one who gets lumped with that Ozzie guy? At least we won’t actually be training together. But I WILL be training with Walker. Which probably means I’ll also be training with his new teaching assistant. Who I can’t seem to make eye contact with right now. But whose eyes I can almost feel burning into me, as he sits there bulging out of his tight white protein branded t-shirt. With his tank-sized body. And his masculine, meathead-but-make-him-cute features. And those big jug ears. Jesus. Those fucking ears.
    20 points
  31. Seven What. The. Fuck. Okay - this is a joke, right? I’m being pranked. How can they be here? How can Adam Lloyd be friends with Luke Henderson and Sebastian “Woody” Wood? But it’s not a joke. And they ARE here. And now I’m following Adam, heading right for the table they’re seated at. The two guys I haven’t spoken to for the last ten months. The two guys I fucking OUTED to the whole university. The first guy I ever liked and kissed who I spent ages trying to get over and the guy he chose over me. “You lads must know each other?” Adam says when we get to the table. “All right, Deano?” Woody says to me in a surprisingly light tone. He’s even got this smirk on his face. Like he’s kind of enjoying the drama. I don’t fucking believe it. Or maybe I do. Maybe this is EXACTLY how Sebastian Wood reacts to this type of situation. “All right,” I say, sitting opposite Luke and trying to act like everything’s normal. Luke mutters a hi. He’s wearing a tight blue t-shirt and looks about as awkward and uncomfortable as I feel. He side-eyes Woody. Adam asks them if they’re okay for drinks, then asks me what I’m having. I suddenly think on my feet. “I’ll go,” I say, standing up. “You sure?” Yes, I’m fucking sure. Because the alternative is sitting here opposite two people who hate my fucking guts. Woody’s still got that smirk on his (still ridiculously good looking) face as I stand up. Fuck’s sake. I’m starting to remember why this guy used to wind me up so much. My mind starts spiralling when I’m at the bar. Why didn’t Adam tell me this is who we were meeting? I wouldn’t have fucking come if I’d have known. He knew we’d know each other. We’re in the same fucking year. Did he not think there was even the slightest possibility that we wouldn’t get on? And how are they even friends? Adam graduated last year. The only reason WE’RE friends is because I’m training with Walker and Adam’s his teaching assistant. And then another thought hits me. Wait - is THAT why they’re friends? Because they all have a certain something in common? Because Adam is like them? Because Adam is like ME? I get this sort of warm, excited feeling at that thought. I also can’t seem to stop thinking about Adam's comment about my jeans. Or the fact that his arm was pushed up against mine on the bus. Okay - that couldn’t exactly have been helped. It's not like he did it on purpose or anything. But I still can’t stop thinking about it. When the slightly scared looking barman hands me mine and Adam’s drinks, my chest tightens and I get this horrible sense of dread. Because now I have to go back and sit opposite Luke Henderson and Sebastian Wood. For fuck’s sake. This is like a bad fucking dream. The atmosphere feels tense when I get back to the table and sit down. God this is awkward. Adam gives me a sort of nervous, tight-lipped smile. Like he’s sensed I’m not completely comfortable. Woody clears his throat. He’s wearing a black vest like the one he always used to wear. It might even BE that one. “So … how’s the training going, Deano?” What the fuck? Luke gives him a weird look. I glance at Adam, who’s looking at me expectedly. So Woody wants to play nice. I can do that. “Yep. It’s … good,” I say, burying my face in my pint glass. “Interesting diet plan!” Woody says, nodding at my drink. Is he trying to wind me up? “Ahem … yes, I’m gonna pretend that’s a non-alcoholic beer,” Adam teases. Luke’s being quiet. He’s clearly not having fun. At all. Which kinda makes two of us. Although … the night hasn’t been entirely without its positives so far. “Deano’s good at pretending,” Woody says, giving me this smirk. Did he seriously just fucking say that? My chest tightens. I don’t respond. Something flickers across Woody’s face. Like maybe he's regretting what he just said. Luke’s looking at him with this kind of frowning expression. Like he disapproves of his boyfriend's behaviour. Woody seems to drop the snarky comments after that. Maybe he just needed to get it out of his system. Or maybe he was trying to get a rise out of me. I disappear to the toilet and when I come back I’m relieved to find that Woody and Luke have gone to the bar. Adam’s alone, playing with his phone. I really wish it was just the two of us tonight. “You all right, Deano?” he asks. Mmmm,” I say with a nod. He gives me a look like he doesn’t quite believe me. He clears his throat. “I’m kind of sensing a bit of tension.” I don’t know what to say. “Between you and Woody?” I roll my eyes and half-heartedly shrug. “Shit. I should've checked to see if you got on. Sorry.” “It's fine.” “I can see how someone might think he’s a bit … full of himself, I guess.” I look at Adam with one eyebrow raised. He smirks at me. “I think it’s a bit of a front, personally.” “How do you know each other?” I ask him, feeling surprisingly nervous. “From the end of year bodybuilding show.” Of course. Woody competed in that. “And a little bit before that.” I nod. What the fuck does that mean? “Maybe we should have stayed in and played Xbox?” Adam suggests. His mouth curling into one of those kinds of shy smiles he does. Fuck. I find myself smirking back. “Invited Shaun round,” he adds. There’s a pause. “Or not.” Fuck. What the fuck? He gives me this look. I don't know what the hell it means. Then my two best mates in the whole wide world come back to the table. “Cheers,” I say to Luke, as he hands me my beer. I hold eye contact with him and he offers up a polite smile. And at that moment, I wonder if there’s a possibility that maybe he doesn’t actually hate me that much after all. When it’s my round and I’m standing at the bar, my head is spinning. What did Adam mean earlier? I’m snapped from my thoughts. Because Sebastian "Woody" Wood is suddenly standing next to me. “Thought you might need a hand,” he says, in a weirdly sincere tone. Umm. What the hell? “Thanks,” I mutter. He clears his throat. “Well ... this is kind of awkward.” I roll my tongue around the inside of my cheek. “I didn’t know you guys were gonna be here.” “Yeah. I kinda gathered that. Congrats, by the way.” I look over at him. “The training programme. The McCarthy Classic.” I nod. “Might apply myself next year.” Wait - so Woody didn’t apply? Huh. That doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t Woody apply? Unless he’s lying. Just to try and save face. “How are the parents?” I look at him confused. “Still dwarves?” And then his face breaks into a smile. Not a sly smirk either. An actual, GENUINE smile. Wow. I feel myself melting. And now I'm suddenly remembering why I used to be so obsessed with this guy. “Just the one,” I say, failing to smile back. He leans forward and rests his elbows on the bar. “So … training with Adam?” He’s got this look on his face. He looks back at the table over my shoulder. “Don’t you think he looks a bit like AJ Jones?” I look back at Adam. He’s in conversation with Luke. And God yes. He actually does look like AJ Jones. I knew he reminded me of someone. “Erm … actually, yeah!” “I think it’s the ears,” Woody says. I turn to him and he’s smiling at me. Another genuine smile. And I'm smiling back. Fucking hell. For the first time in so long,full-on it feels like we don’t hate each other. Not that I ever did hate Sebastian “Woody” Wood. Not really. “Not exactly buzzing in here is it?” he says, looking around the pub. “I told Adam we should’ve gone to Glasgow.” “Glasgow?!" I say, screwing my face up. "That’s miles away.” He groans and rolls his eyes. “You sound like Adam. AND Luke!” “You guys go to Glasgow?” I ask, surprised. Woody shrugs. “Mmmm. Every now and then. There are some good clubs. You should go some time.” There’s an awkward pause. He’s giving me this look. I know EXACTLY what he’s implying. And what kind of clubs he’s talking about. I can’t help but smirk back at him. Despite myself. And then a thought suddenly comes to me. And this jolt of something goes through me. Excitement. Slight panic. But mostly excitement. And I need to know. I NEED to ask the question. “Does Adam go with you?” I ask Woody, not looking at his face, my chest tightening. He doesn’t respond. Shit - was I not supposed to ask that question? I cautiously look at Woody. He’s biting his lip. And he’s got this look on his face that tells me YES. That Adam sometimes goes to those clubs with Woody and Luke. Because Adam is like Woody and Luke. Because ridiculously good looking jug-eared tank-sized Adam Lloyd really is like ME. The thing is - I think I already knew it. Maybe I even knew it the first time I ever saw him. “I’m not sure if I’m supposed to be telling you that,” he says, looking past my shoulder and in the direction of the table where Luke and Adam are sitting. I nod. “Erm … I won’t say anything," I say, my head spinning. Fuck. So Adam Lloyd IS gay. Or bi. Well … he likes lads, at least. That much is confirmed. Something rises in my chest. And this warmth goes through me. I’m suddenly finding myself wanting to smile. From somewhere I feel a surge of bravery. “Does Luke hate my guts?” Woody grins and bites his lip, clearly amused. “Nah! He’s pretty forgiving. He doesn’t really hold grudges.” He looks over to the table Adam and Luke are seated and I see it. The way he's looking at Luke. I see how much he really likes him. Something twists in my stomach. Just a little. “And ...,“ he clears his throat. “Okay - Luke would KILL me if he knew I told you this. But ...," he clears his throat, "we have these LISTS. Of the lads at uni.” Umm. What the fuck? I’m furrowing my eyebrows at him, but I’m finding it really hard not to smile too. “Best pecs. Best abs. Best looking!” he clarifies. He seems kind of excited to be telling me this. I nod, suddenly feeling nervous and having no idea where this conversation is going. “And … you’re at the top of one of Luke’s lists.” What the hell? “Erm Okay …,” I say, confused but getting a surprising kick out of hearing this. Woody raises his eyebrows. “Let’s just say … he probably likes the image of you in those jeans!” Oh my God. I’m full on smirking. STOP smirking. “Best quads?” I ask. (But I know that’s not what he’s talking about.) Woody gives me a look as if to say, “Come the fuck on.” I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth and don't reply. So Luke Henderson thinks I have the best arse of all the lads at Montgomery? I have no idea how to process this information. I suddenly have a fleeting thought. That I wish I was at the top of one of Woody’s lists. “You seem … different,” he says, studying my face. I frown and turn away, looking ahead to the barman. I feel a pinch of something in my chest. “In what way?” I ask, despite myself. My voice sounding weirdly meek. “Just … more mature I guess. I’ve thought it for a while. Since the beginning of the school year, anyway.” I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. “You seem …,” and then I turn to face him. “Exactly the same!” Woody's mouth curls into a grin. God - he really IS ridiculously good looking. This is so fucking surreal. I never thought I’d be doing this tonight. Who knows. Maybe there’s a chance me and Sebastian "Woody" Wood could actually be friends. We get an Uber back to campus. The driver calls Woody “Henry” which confuses me. I wonder if that’s his real name. But then realise that’s ridiculous. Because if anyone were ever to change their name, there’s no way in hell they’d change it to Sebastian. I end up in the front seat with the three others squeezed in the back. Which I’m grateful for. Being squashed up against either Woody or Luke in the back of an Uber. This night has been awkward enough. I can’t help but be amused at the image of Luke squashed up next to Adam. (And I guess, if I'm being honest, a little jealous.) Adam looks about twice Luke’s size. It's a pretty funny image. When we get to Adam’s dorm room back at campus, the four of us stop in the hall. Me and Adam on one side, Woody and Luke on the other. Wow. More awkwardness. “Thanks for coming out, guys,” Adam says. I wonder what they’ll say about me when they get back to their dorm room. And then I suddenly panic. Because - oh shit - my dorm room is in the same direction as theirs. I’m going to have to walk with them. Just the three of us. For fuck’s sake. Adam looks at me. This weird look on his face. “Umm … D, did you wanna borrow that game?” Huh? I look at him confused. And then it hits me. He’s trying to save me. As if he’s read my mind. I love that. I also kinda love that he just called me D. Luke and Woody leave. And now it’s just me and Adam again. Adam - who’s like me. Adam - who DEFINITELY likes lads. Adam - whose ears I can’t seem to stop thinking about. “Thanks for that!” He smiles at me. One of those sort of crooked, coy smiles. “No worries.” And now we’re just looking at each other. God, he’s handsome. And he’s huge. “I wanna say tonight was kind of a disaster, but … I think I actually enjoyed it.” I can’t help smiling at that. “Well … parts of it, anyway.” He’s giving me this look. Wait - what parts is he referring to? The part where we were squashed up against each other on the bus? Or the part where he was teasing me about my skinny jeans? Which bordered on fucking flirting. Fuck. “Well … thanks for coming out.” "No worries," I say, feeling a crushing disappointment. That this is it. That the night is over. “See ya Monday then, Deano. Oh - and we should definitely do that gaming night.” I nod, rolling my tongue around the inside of my mouth trying to cover up my smirk before saying bye and heading back to my dorm room, my thoughts occupied with the events of the night. So Adam Lloyd likes lads. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything has to happen. He might have a boyfriend. Maybe that hot guy, Ty, from the SU bar last weekend. Or someone back home in Kent. It might actually be good for me to have a mate who’s into lads. Someone I can talk to about it. Someone who actually understands. Someone I can maybe go to Glasgow with. Who knows - maybe me, Adam, Woody and Henderson could become a little foursome. Okay - that’s NEVER gonna happen. But still - me and Adam get on. We’re already mates. Just because he likes lads and he’s huge and handsome and has those big jug ears, doesn’t mean anything has to happen between us. It doesn’t mean that at all.
    19 points
  32. Chapter 6 - The Massage Therapist David took the stairs two by two as he easily climbed up to the second floor of the gym. I looked at the stairs as if they were never ending as they rose to the sky challenging my recently worked out muscles. Surprisingly as I took the first steps up my body was renewed with energy and drive. I quickly matched David’s stride and we were at the top in an instant. The upper floor was probably about 25% of the total gym space as it overlooked the main lifting area below. As we entered the hallway there were four rooms, two on each side, then a larger deck in the back with some cardio equipment with a view to the area below. The grunts of massive muscle men could be heard from below above the music from the gym’s sound system. The second door on the right was a quarter open and David went straight through with a turn to me and a nod telling me to follow. The door had a “Massage in session, please lower your volume” sign and I smiled at the idea of getting a hot massage as my surprise. “Jason, meet Sergei,” David said with a motion to the beast of a young man rising from a side chair to greet me. Sergei had that Eastern European / Slavic facial structure with thick black, unruly hair, and he gave off that masculine ‘I don’t give a fuck’ vibe. He was about my height at 5’10’’ and was built like a cement truck weighing in at the 250# range or more with thick black body hair sprouting out from every visible surface of his body. I imagined his pits and pubes were a wild dark forest of fur! Under his loose-fitting t-shirt and shorts I could tell this young stud was strong as a bull. He had cords of muscle wrapped around his forearm which expanded into a thick upper arm as he reached out to fist bump me and gave me a nod of hello. David ordered in his military toned trainer voice, “Strip down and put your clothes on that bench, there’s a shower in the corner for you to rinse off, then lie face down on the table”. I went to the bench and peeled off my sweaty tank top expecting for the two of them to leave the room while I prepared for my upcoming massage. Instead, as I glanced back, David and Sergei were in full embrace with David’s tongue deep in Sergei’s throat and their arms locked around each other grabbing at clothes and muscles. “Hurry up!” David barked at me as he broke from Sergei to remove his tight tank top. I quickly stripped the rest of my sweaty gear and raced to the corner shower. My view of the room was completely blocked as I turned on the warm spray of water. I soaped up, excited about the idea of Sergei’s big, strong hands on my body, and realized my muscles were still incredibly full and pumped from my workout. My hairy pecs were the thickest I had ever felt, so were my guns, and my quads, and damn, look at those beefy quads with the pronounced teardrop and a little sweep out as the quad muscle flexed. Everything was bigger and harder, even my newly thickened cock looked a little bit longer and my balls were increased in volume as I felt their heft with my soapy hand. Not wanting David to yell at me again, I quickly rinsed off and grabbed the available towel to dry off. When I walked around the corner toward the massage table neither young man was in sight. I dropped the towel on the bench and climbed up on the table with my face in the circular holder and stared at the floor below wondering when Sergei would return. The room was dimly lit with the glow of the overhead warmer above the table. The door opened and I started to instinctively rise to see who entered when David ordered, “Face down!” I could see through the hole as David’s large naked feet came to a stop near the right side of my face and Sergei’s hairy calves and thick feet to my left. “Oh wait, I almost forgot this,” David said as he removed his worn, sweaty, tattered jock to his feet, bent over and grabbed it with his right hand, Sergei then raised my head and David shoved the jock around the face holder. Pushing my head back down into the sweaty confines of the battered pouch of the jock, I moaned in appreciation as the musky smell of his meat hit my senses and wondered if this thing had ever been washed! I then felt the warm oils hit my entire body and Sergei’s hands began to work my upper back and shoulders. Then two other hands were on my hamstrings soaking the oil into the muscles. Four Hands! Oh my god, David had joined Sergei in the rubdown! I could feel my cock throb and release a huge glob of precum. David had moved down and was rubbing the oil into each of my feet while Sergei had pulled my arms forward above my head, like I was Superman flying, and was massaging my forearms and hands. Just then I felt two more hands spreading my glutes and caressing the oil around my hairy hole, oh fuck, six hands were now working my body. I wanted to rise up and see who had joined our group, but I was too engulfed in the moment as the sensation of touch overloaded my body and mind. The mystery man working my glutes eased his arm under my torso and easily lifted me up as his other hand grabbed my throbbing cock and pulled it down between my legs. My rigid cock ached as the uncomfortable movement from pointing to my chest to now pointing to my feet took hold. The hand continued to slowly milk my fat pole and it eased the discomfort of the transition. The six hands continued to mold and manipulate every inch of my body over the course of the next 10 minutes, 3 hours, or 5 days, fuck, I don’t know, time seemed to stop and start as the waves of pleasure flowed over me. “How are you feeling Daddy?” David’s voice finally whispered in my ear. “Mmm, Amazing” was all I could muster. “I’m going to have you roll over in a second, but I want you to keep your eyes closed until I tell you to, ok?” “Yes Sir.” I replied. I was then told to roll over and as I got settled in the new position on my back, my cock thumped my abs with a loud ‘thwack!’ The aching to cum was so strong I thought I might shoot right then but was able to squeeze my pelvic muscles and avoid the release. I then felt a warm compress or blindfold placed over my eyes and the massage action began anew on the front facing muscles of my body. After a while, hours, days, again time was unknown to me, each of my feet were being lifted and my knees bent so that my legs were at a 45-degree angle and pushed towards my chest, and then a support was placed locking each ankle in midair. I heard the lower part of the table disengage just as each of my arms were also raised and supports were secured around my wrists. Within an instant the massage table had been transformed into a table/sling and I was locked in position for what was to happen next. Mouths were sucking on each of my hypersensitive nipples, and I could feel something thick and hard pushing at my exposed hairy manhole trying to breach the entry. The blindfold was removed and instantly I saw David sucking on my right pec and Nick, the immense bodybuilder from the urinal, working my left pec. Sergei was standing between my raised legs with his bull cock aimed at my hole. Grateful that the three studs had been fingering my hole and loosening me up throughout the massage as Sergei rammed his cock deep in my hole and I felt his balls slap the underside of my ass. Sergei fucked like a man possessed! Ramming the entire length of his 9-inch angry cock in and then completely out of my hole with each power stroke. The repeated re-entry sent waves of pain and pleasure through my body as he power drilled his hard cock in my now gaping hole. I groaned and struggled from the abuse, but I was completely trapped, locked into the table/sling. The waves of pleasure became stronger, and the pain diminished, and I felt that rising, deep feeling in my overstimulated prostate and knew my orgasm was almost here. Just then, Sergei immediately slammed deep in my hole and unleashed his load with several loud moans from his massive furry chest. He then pulled out his dripping cock and my gaping hole sucked in air causing my prostate to tighten up and my rising orgasm stopped. David and Sergei immediately swapped places and my eyes widened as I finally saw the club of black cock that swung out from David’s enormous body. I began shaking my head NO as David lined up the massive monster cock at my ravaged hole. Ignoring my protestations, David slid into my opened hole stretching it wider than Sergei’s beer can cock. His huge head slid past my prostate and continued diving deeper and deeper until he finally hit that second hole guardian and stopped. We both took a breath as he held steady there and I realized there was still a lot more of his monster cock exposed that could be rammed in my overstuffed ass. Unlike the full power fuck abuse that Sergei drove, David was a more rhythmic fucker with only slow and steady movements of two to three inches of withdrawal and return. Each time his fat cockhead hit against the closed wall of my second hole, he would pause, and I could feel his massive club throb throughout the entire length. I had never been so full of cock before. As if on cue, Sergei stood up and shoved his resurrected beer can dick down my throat thus fulfilling the prophecy in my mind. This went on and on and the slow-motion stimulation against my roughed-up prostate reignited my pending orgasm. “I’ve got to have that fat, juicy daddy dick!” Nick exclaimed as he was stroking my leaking pipe. David instantly reached up to the ceiling levers and readjusted my ankle restraints, widening and lowering my legs so that my pulsating cock was now exposed and ready to ride while he was still fucking me deep with his black nightstick. Nick quickly climbed up and straddled my torso and my eyes finally took in the massive smooth muscles of this power-bottom bodybuilder. Except for the thick mop of curly brown hair on his head, Nick was completely hairless over all 280 pounds of rippling muscles. He reached behind him to spread his massive ass cheeks as David grabbed my pole and aimed it at the receiving target. My dick was so juicy that no lube was needed as I entered the tight muscle ass and Nick slammed all the way down encompassing every inch of my fat meat. Nick’s smaller four-incher was slapping against his washboard abs as he expertly rode my dick in a wide assortment of movements with depth, motion, and rhythm. This muscle boy knew how to ride a cock! Nick's huge pecs were bouncing and popping as he climbed up and down my throbbing cock. I wanted to reach out and grab the thick pec meat and tweak the pointy nipples with my fingers but was still restrained in the arm cuffs. “I’m going to cum daddy!” Nick moaned and this set off an incredible chain reaction! Nick’s hole tightened on my cock as cum started flying from his tiny dick. The sensation of his vice-like grip of his gigantic ass caused me to finally unload as the first long spray of cum drove up and out of my cock blasting the insides of his muscle hole. My eyes rolled back and my whole body clenched as the first orgasm in a week took hold which triggered both Sergei and David to unload in both of my holes at the same time as I was flooding Nick. David, Nick, and Sergei had all stopped shooting with David and Sergei both pulling their spent man cocks from my holes, but I was still blasting away deep inside Nick’s tight hole! My orgasm was intense and the waves of cum seemed never ending with my load now flowing out of Nick’s manhole. Nick finally pulled off and David grasped my thick meat with both hands and continued jacking as rope after rope of cum shot out and covered Nick’s back and David’s front. Finally, my orgasm subsided, and he released my still hard cock and my body melted back down into the massage table/sling. Nick leaned over and gave me a deep kiss, “that was amazing daddy! I can’t wait to have you load me up again! Let me know when you are ready?” “Let’s go!” I said not missing a beat, motioning for him to hop back on my still rock-hard, throbbing cock!
    19 points
  33. 10: My heart was pounding, I was beside myself with a mix of excitement and anxiety. I called work, to let them know I was on my way, and come to find out in the worst way possible Joyce, the nurse that I halfway liked, had quit. This news came so poorly to me because I had tried to call her phone directly, which forwarded my call up the chain of command…right up to the Warden’s desk, who normally would not be kept aware of such insipid matters. When he answered I about careened off the side of the road, I nearly hung up. “Hello, this is Warden Vander. Who is this calling?” He said gruffly. I stammered, I didn’t know what to say! “T-this is Matt Gabel, uh…the nurse…” His tone immediately became cross, “Oh god what do you want?” he said, before coming to a realization that made me step on my brakes reflectively: “Wait!” he cried, “Why are you calling me from an external number, Gabel? You should be inside prison walls and therefore not on your personal cell.” “Y-you see—” I tried to say. “I see what now? A nurse who clearly is not present and accounted for when I can see diabetic prisoners waiting for their insulin lining-up outside my office? You know Joyce quit right?” “She did?!” I said. “Don’t talk over me!” He snapped, “Yes, and come to find out the other half of the day crew, meaning you, is not here either. Is that, or is that not about to change?” I yipped, “It’s about to change! I’m on my way now, I was letting Joyce know and—” “Tough shit,” he interrupted once again, “From now on you’re reporting directly to me, got it? Report to my office before working with any of these felons, we need to talk.” “I—” I tried to say, but he had hung up and I was trapped at a red light on Lansing Road and Groveland. “Fuck!” I hollered, as I bashed my steering wheel. Today was clearly meant to be a great day… During the shift, I was treated to a thorough assassination of my self-esteem at the hands of the Warden. “Gutter ball Gabel” this, “lazy piece of work” that, yadda…yadda… “…Much to be desired, but you’re what I am stuck with now” was the culmination of his tirade. This interfered with the general workflow of the day and in combination with my tardiness I ruined what little joys some prisoners had, time in the yard or a full sit-down lunch. And they let me know it. Most were impatient or snappy, “Hurry up!” or “Let’s go!” And then of course, in walks this big burly dude who did something crazy with some piano wire. He had gigantic forearms and a build that could only be made from day in and day out of using the weights available in the yard. Daryl was his name, and all he needed was some goddamn baby aspirin and the weakest dose beta blocker for blood pressure. I had the displeasure of interrupting his entire mid-day meal. “C’mon fairy boy give me my pills!” He sniped. And normally I would smile and continue about my day, ignoring such comments as if they were left unsaid. But today, I was all sorts of done and I growled, “Don’t motherfucking talk to me like that!” He reacted immediately, the corrections officer that had worked with me had to grab him, “What you say, you time wasting little bitch? I will fuck you up—thinkin’ you can talk to me like that!” “Settle down!” the corrections officer ordered, “Just take your pills and get out of here Daryl, tell the kitchen I said you got ten extra minutes of food time.” The prisoner glared at me as I handed over a couple pills for him to dry swallow, “And ten more minutes in the yard, right?” he said, not averting his eyes from me. The guard barked, “Hit the bricks, you got what you get.” He left I could hear him boast as he walked away, “These homos getting ballsy around here, gonna learn respect soon!” I shook it off, but damn that murderous son-of-a-bitch had the gall to treat me like that? I truly hated this job. And I had five more hours to work… * * * While I had worked my shift, my friend Spencer had been for a while now thinking about our conversation. Over the past couple of days, he really gave a lot of consideration to hitting me up and maybe even getting a couple workouts in. He had always been a fitness enthusiast, we’ll say. Never living the lifestyle to completion but always vying for it despite relentless self-sabotage. He had an easy childhood, he’ll readily admit. His father was a considerably wealthy man, he was majority shareholder of Common Foods Incorporated (CF Inc). This was a massive agricultural firm that held a huge stake in the food production of the entire Midwest. It was essentially a middleman that bought up crops from farms at rock bottom prices, and sell them to major companies like major distributors such as Mars, Nestle, Kellogg, to huge chains such as Dominoes, Jack-in-the-box, Little Caesars, to every day bulk products that they would put on shelves such as brown rice and dried beans. Common Foods had become a transnational conglomerate that owned a huge market share of the American diet. And at it’s helm was the CEO and majority shareholder Winston Patel, Spencer’s father. Of course, this top-level position was as a recent accomplishment, however. Throughout the majority of Spencer’s young life, his father was largely absent as he had submitted himself to the all-consuming lifestyle of corporate ascendency. And now that Winston had reached the apex of what he considered his career, he found himself returning to his child, his only child: Spencer, and not liking what he saw. And no offense to the guy, I quite like Spencer. He was down to earth and never flaunted his wealth. But lacked ambition especially for someone at age twenty-five and had almost no career to speak of. This, Winston did not care for. And so, Spencer’s father forced him out into the working world. Saying to his son, “You need to prove to me you can build connections and a life for yourself that will make you successful. I don’t care how you do it, but it can’t be with my money.” Spencer, to his credit, was remarkably understanding. Though, we laugh about it now, he was shell shocked at how expensive living the poor lifestyle can be. He kept his car, a nicely sized Ford Explorer, but that was it. So, without much guidance Spencer kind of ended working at a pizza joint, and hence at my door while I was practically naked. He had texted me sometime during my shift and I did not get to see it until it had ended at seven in the evening. “Hey man, you want to hang out? I really want to hit the gym with you sometime!” His text said. I was sitting in the prison parking lot, seeing this was a delight, “Of course man, I was gonna go hang out with my friend Ben, and we were probably gonna lift together. But I would be down to have you join in, or we can do 1-on-1 if you want.” He immediately shot back, “Ben who?” I paused. “…Ben Cedar…why? He replied, “No way! That’s who you’re talking about?! I know him, we went to HS together! Yes, please we will definitely have to hang, ASAP!” I smiled at the coincidence, “Definitely!” I wrote back, “See you soon, dude!” Finally, a bright spot to this day! It was immediately ruined by my forty-minute drive home. Did I mention my radio does not work? Just thought it would be fun to mention it. I hurried home. I had not made plans with Ben for this evening, which kind of left me feeling…bored. Of course, this was not a bother at first because I was so hungry and I had an absurd amount of raw food for one man, and so I started cooking. I had frozen a lot of the meat and stuff but had decided to make a nice steak and some potatoes for myself. It would obviously pale in comparison to the meal Ben had cooked yesterday, but I was hungry and it was all I could think of for the moment. After putting on the steak, a measly fourteen ounces, I decided to break out the cottage cheese as a snack. I realized a couple spoonful’s in I was still wearing my gross scrubs and figured it best to throw them in the laundry. I stripped in the living room and went to the bathroom to find the basket, and then of course my mirror. Let me tell you, I was overjoyed! I saw myself; I had looked twice as good as I did just a week ago. My stomach muscles were starting to catch the light unflexed. My arms, had a hardness and a curves that I had never really noticed before. My shoulders seemed to puff out and I shuddered— I could actually flex my pecs! I was enamored at making them dance on command, it made me feel so strong! I instantly got hard and I took to noticing my legs— damn, they were looking pretty defined, I turned to my side and my ass was looking so thick, being accentuated by the V taper I had from my pose. I felt so felt so fucking great! I started to jerk off, but damn it! The steak was still cooking. I went back to the stove in the nude and flipped the meat and stirred up the instant potatoes. Thankfully I was unharmed from the experience. As the food finished, I found my teeth grating as I was so horny. I eyed my coffee table and snapped my fingers! Couldn’t forget my next dose. I took it happily…and then a little more than I had in the past. Only a milligram…and a half… give or take a tenth. No big deal. I decided to let my food cool and laid back on my couch and got to work. I felt myself up and down from the prodigious chest muscles forming to the hardened layer of abdominal muscles developing on my stomach. My long legs spread out, one laid over the back of my couch, the other with one foot hanging off the opposing arm rest. The couch heaved under my weight, I got to thinking of my freaky dreams that I was having. I just envisioned myself getting stronger, getting bigger. I felt my hormones riling up and yearning for immediate release. Well…It didn’t take long. And almost right on cue, I got a text from Spencer. “So, you want to chill tonight, big man?”
    19 points
  34. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 3 Neither of us had much to do that day, especially since Jason had gone on the charm offensive the day before, so we planned on just puttering around the house, but that plan fell through right away. Jason couldn’t sit still, so he spent most of the morning working out like a fiend, still mad at himself about the stress eating two days prior. I couldn’t relax much either. I got a gazillion texts from our local friends congratulating us. Jason probably did too, but he was hiding his phone in the freezer so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. The important calls and texts would get bounced to Lacey; the rest could be ignored indefinitely. It was just a morning of texts for me. Everyone congratulated us; about half wanted to know if they made the cut to be on the guest list. Because I knew Jason didn’t have the bandwidth to handle it, I spent the morning responding to each and every text I got, letting everyone know we were not getting married. Even though I still intermittently found it kind of funny, by the afternoon, I was reaching my breaking point too. Somewhere around the sixtieth text in a two-hour period (things got busier during everyone’s lunch breaks), I was about to put my phone in the freezer with Jason’s. Then, I got an actual phone call. “Don’t people know it’s more polite to text?” I said to the empty room. Resigned, I answered the phone without looking at the name. “You’ve got the bridal suite,” I said. “Muscles?” a familiar voice asked. “Puck?” “The one and only. It’s been forever, Muscles.” “Puck? Why call now?” “To see if it’s true. To see if you’re about to marry Jason Prentiss.” “Well, I am with Jason Prentiss. But, that’s old news. He and I have been together for two years.” “Really? How did I not know that?” “I don’t know. It made a bit of a sizable splash when we got together.” “Everything you do is sizable,” he said lasciviously. I rolled my eyes. “Always the flatterer.” “I wasn’t living under a rock or anything. I’m just not much of a Jason Prentiss fan. His new show is terrible.” “Practically unwatchable,” I agreed enthusiastically. Gleefully, I added, “I’ve seen every episode four times. I absolutely love it.” “You would be the type to get a kick out of it,” he replied. “The internet is wrong, then? You’re not getting married?” “Nope. Shafe is, though.” “Hell’s bells! I haven’t thought about Shafe in years. How is that scrumptious man muffin?” “About to get married,” I repeated. “Wow. Shafe’s walking the aisle? What’s the bride-to-be like?” “It’s like he’s marrying a female version of himself.” “A woman would have to be exactly like Shafe to lock him down.” “Marietta’s awesome. I’m just teasing.” After a pause, I added, “Mostly.” “Maybe I should send a present. That is what’s done. Where are they registered?” “Shafe’s rich, and you haven’t seen each other in seven years. Send a card, if that.” “Got it. Now, back to the scandal at hand. You land a famous dreamboat like Jason Prentiss...” I interrupted with, “I thought you weren’t a fan?” “I’m not a fan, but I still have eyes. The man’s gorgeous. And those abs!” “Right, sorry.” “As I was saying, you land a dreamboat like Jason Prentiss, and you’re not getting married.” “Nope. We’re not.” “Pray tell why not?” That question again. Evasion time. “That’s boring, Puck. Don’t bore me. What’ve you been up to these past seven years?” “Now that’s been boring,” Puck said. “Teaching ballet. Growing a full head of hair. Raising kids. I’m a damned cliché.” “You have kids?” “Three.” “Damn. Adopted?” “All three.” “Any of them want to follow in your slippered footsteps?” “My youngest, Avery. He wants to be a ballet dancer.” “You must be a proud papa.” “You know it.” With a melody in his voice I instantly recognized, he added, “So’s my husband.” He was trying to get me back on topic. Abort! “Did you marry Stefano?” “What? No. His name is Nathan. We met at the school. He’s a fellow teacher.” “How do you like teaching?” “Quit changing the subject, Muscles. The relationship that you and I had died because I didn’t want something serious, and you did. Here, you have a man that most gay men would give their right nut for. He’s so enraptured by you that he’ll stay with you for two years without a ring. You’re not going to make it nice and proper?” “Who cares if we’re married?” “From what I’ve seen online, every magazine that has a ‘celebrity nip slip’ section.” “I’m more than happy to catch up, Puck, but if you’re just calling to pressure me into marriage, I have wallpaper I could be staring at.” “Sharp words, Muscles. They belie deeper meaning.” “Goodbye, Puck.” “When you get married, send me lots of pictures.” I hung up. “Who was that?” Jason asked, walking through the room. He was shirtless and sweaty from yet another workout, so he was wiping moisture from his chest. “Puck.” “That dancer you dated?” “Stripper,” I corrected. “Yeah, but he’s a dancer now.” “Dance teacher. He’s married now, too.” That got Jason’s attention. “No! Your stripper ex is married?” “With three kids.” “How bizarre. But, why did he call?” “To pressure me into marrying you.” “You have the weirdest exes,” Jason said, leaving the living room on his way to take a shower. No sooner had Jason taken two steps, but my phone rang again. “Don’t answer it,” Jason implored from the stairs. I answered it anyway. “Thank you for calling Rent-A-Groom. How may I direct your call?” “Sorry, I must have the wrong number.” I knew that voice. “No, Gregg. You don’t. It’s Gerry.” Upon hearing the name of my high school boyfriend, Jason lost all patience and continued his journey to the shower. “Gerry,” Gregg said, cocky as I remembered him. “Are you taking Jason’s last name? Will you be Mrs. Gerry Prentiss?” “Jason and I aren’t getting married.” “Why not? Being married is awesome.” “You got married?” “Twice. The government even acknowledges one of my marriages as legal.” That made no sense. He lives in Illinois. Gay marriage is legal. If he’d gotten divorced and remarried, both marriages would be legal. Why would only one of his marriages have been legal? Then, it hit me. “Wait, do you have two husbands?” “High school me would be so proud.” “Seriously. You’re currently married to two men at the same time?” “I was the last time we spoke.” “The last time we spoke, you wouldn’t let me ask about your personal life. Now, I’m owed details.” “I married Haris right out of college as soon as my shoulder healed from surgery. Haris is drop-dead gorgeous, Gerry. You’d approve. He’s a Greek God. And I mean that literally; he’s from Greece. He’s got those Mediterranean features, a lithe muscular body, and a thick and sexy…” “Gregg!” I interrupted. “Accent, Gerry. He has a thick and sexy accent.” He laughed at me and added, “His cock’s nice too. Anyways, he’s so hot, he makes me look like a foot, and I’m beautiful.” “You didn’t marry him because he’s hot, though. Right?” “No. I married him because I love him. He’s an absolute sweetheart, a great cook, and a blast to be around. He throws the best parties.” “Good.” “Yeah. One of our favorite couple’s activities is to scope out guys to fuck together.” It was my turn to laugh. “He sounds like your soul mate.” “He is. Haris and I met Brock at our local gym two years after we got married. Brock’s a total meathead, your typical Iowa farm boy, and the best sex I’ve ever had. He dethroned you, Gerry, he’s that good of a fuck. The three of us started fucking around regularly, we got along great. Brock might look like a bull, but he’s a big goofball. Dangerous on April Fool’s Day, but otherwise the life of the party. Brock moved in after a few months, and now all of us are married to each other. In our hearts if not on tax forms.” “Glad to hear, Gregg, but if you just called me to congratulate me on my wedding, well, it was a waste of a call.” “Nonsense. We get to hear about each other’s lives this time. For instance, I can ask if you’re really Miles Uhler.” “Yep. Indeed I am.” “Brock is a fan. But he thinks the movie was garbage and the sixth book is terrible.” “The move was garbage, and sixth book is terrible. But if Brock had better taste, he’d also know the eighth book is terrible.” “Ooh, I’ll tell him you said that; that’s his favorite one. Better yet, you can tell him yourself, face to face. Ever since Brock found out I dated Miles Uhler in high school, he’s been begging to get you into our marital bed. He’ll pay the airfare.” “Never gonna happen. Jason and I are monogamous.” “I told him that, but I would’ve been a bad husband not to ask.” “I should get going.” “That’s right. You have a wedding to prepare.” “I’m not getting married!” “I meant Gil Shafer’s wedding, but you should look into that reaction, Gerry. Married life would calm you down.” “Goodbye, Gregg,” I said, while hanging up. By that point, Jason was out of the shower and sat next to me on the couch in nothing but a bathrobe, still drying his hair. “Let me guess,” he said, “Gregg’s married with two kids.” “Gregg’s married with two husbands,” I corrected. “Of course, he is,” Jason said, increasing his drying speed. “None of your exes could just be normal people.” “If I only date weird people, Jason, what does that say about you?” He smiled, showing off his gorgeous dimple. The first genuine smile I’d seen from him since the bachelor party. “Can we invite Paula and H. K. to the dinner tonight? It sounds like I might need a buffer from Cole.” “Of course. I’m surprised H. K. didn’t already call us with congratulations.” “He sent a giant floral arrangement and two bottles of Dom Perignon,” Jason said querulously. “Lacey intercepted them and explained the miscommunication.” “We could’ve kept the bubbly.” Jason put down the towel and leaned against me. “You’re being amazing through this, you know.” “Only because you’re amazing.” Jason moved to kiss me, but then my phone buzzed again. “I’ll put it in the freezer.”
    19 points
  35. Hey guys! Here is part 3 - I think there will just be one more part after this (about 25 pages left in total) This part gets VERY steamy - technically this depicts a "father" and "son." Having never shared this kind of story before I feel a need to say I obviously wouldn't support this in real life - but in a fantasy world the idea of an older man dominating a younger guy with his muscles is so erotic and sexy. So even if dad/son is not your thing - imagine the hottest muscle daddy you have ever seen and imagine you are the "son" on the receiving end of his lust and muscles. Get comfy, get horny, and happy reading About My Dad Pt. 3 I admired the back of his boxers as we walked down the hall. He had only left a few dim lights on in the kitchen and dinning area, so the hallway was black. We finally came to the door of his room, and he turned on the lights above of his bed. He had a square, high-set, multi-layered ceiling, so when the lights came on they illuminated the square, letting the light bleed into the room. The bedroom was about as dim as the kitchen had been. Bright enough I could still see the intricacies of my dad’s muscular frame, but dark enough it gave a certain intimacy to the space. My father’s room was large enough that despite him having a queen bed there was an entire sitting area in front of the bed. He had always had a thick, soft carpet in from of it, so it made sense to use it. I can say with absolute certainty, even when I would check my dad out in the living room or kitchen, I never thought I would see him in just his boxers in his bedroom getting ready to wrestle me. “Alright man.” He said hopping over to the rug with a surprising amount of energy. “Are you ready?” I hurried over to the nearside of the carpet opposite him. “Totally, but uhm, I don’t really know much about wrestling.” I confessed bending my knees even though I had no clue what to do. “Don’t’ worry too much.” He said with a faint cockiness to his voice. Not that he was wrong though, I wasn’t planning on being the dominant person in this situation. That lead my brain to another place, one my dad was apparently already at. “I can’t promise you won’t be a bit sore after this though.” He smirked at me before raising his eyebrows. I stood up straight unsure of how to stand anymore. “Well bring it on old man.” I jeered eagerly anticipating what was about to happen. I also fully recognized the irony in my taunt. This old man had a way fitter and stronger body than me. Surprisingly, to me at least, my dad started walking towards me in a normal walking stance. He wasn’t bracing, preparing himself or anything. He came almost as close to me as he had been in the kitchen, before quickly extending his arm, grabbing my left arm, and spinning around fast enough that I lost my balance and fell to the ground behind him in the center of the carpet. He had managed to throw me so that I more slid onto the rug rather than just slamming into it. All the same my mind was distracted for a moment by the slight pain in my back and butt. Whipping back into focus I blinked and before I could finish processing my back pain my dad was already half way on top of me. He grabbed my wrists in his hands and spread my arms open. I could feel the weight of his legs over mine, and . . . somehow even more impressive than that . . . I could feel his boxers pressing against my lower abdomen. His boxers felt full and thick against my skin. I started laughing giddily. “Sorry did you call me an old man?” He smiled at me as I pointlessly struggled against his force. I almost can’t explain how incredible it felt to be in this position. My father’s muscular body was on top of me and he was barely using his strength to pin me to the floor. I had never felt so emasculated by another man. The feeling was intoxicating. I didn’t want him to stop. I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted him to dominate and overpower me. “Because it looks like your old man’s pinning you to the floor pretty easily.” I could help but look along his muscular, flared arms and onto his thick chest. “Damn dad you are so strong.” I said in a strained voice as I put my entire body into pushing against his hands. He didn’t budge though. I breathed heavily. “You are so damn fit, and you’re not even trying.” A look of light surprise and joy went across his face. “I was wondering if you noticed.” He let his body weight fall onto his arms, pushing against my wrists, cementing me to the floor, as he leaned in towards me. Whereas before he had been arched over me, his abs were now touching my stomach, and his chest was almost against mine. Seeing and feeling him so close, the feeling of his legs pressing against mine, I couldn’t help but let out a quick breath fueled with excitement. “I didn’t want to emasculate you too quickly. Seeing your dad on top of you like this, with these big muscles, that’s probably a lot to take in.” “You already proved you were the man of the house earlier, but you don’t need to stop.” I breathed out. “I don’t’ know, I think it’s one thing to see me flex and pose. You know after you ask me to take my shirt off and then I made you beg for my pants.” He flashed a devious smile at me. “But I don’t know if that’s the same as me actually showing you how strong I am.” His arms were now flexed, pumped, and vascular supporting his weight. “You better keep showing me then. Come on,” I provoked with spunk in my voice. “put me in my place.” “I don’t want to hurt you though. I’m a lot fucking stronger than you are.” He said with a vampy pout. “But if you behave . . . maybe I can get a little rougher.” His chest was starting to press against mine and his face was getting closer and closer to mine. The smell of his cologne was strong, and the feeling of his near-naked body against mine was almost too much. “I can do that.” I smiled at him, tilting my head to the side. “Before we do much else though I think you need to lose the shirt.” My chest pounded at the thought of what my father had just said. For a moment my efforts to fight against his strong body ceased. I looked up into his eyes. “I . . . can do that.” My acceptance was cut in half by an audible and involuntary gulp. First, I had never been shirtless in front of my dad, especially not when he was on top of me wrestling. The though of being shirtless next to such an Adonis of a man was nerve-wracking enough. Add to this though, I had just nervously choked with his face only being a few inches away from mine. Unsurprisingly my alpha father did not let this opportunity to assert his dominance go by. “Are you nervous to take your shirt off in front of me?” He strengthen his grip against my wrists and pulled himself away slightly. “I mean I do probably look pretty intimidating from your angle right now,” he said matter of factly with a hint of joy to his voice. “You definitely do.” I breathed fanning his swelling ego. Seeing my dad cocky was more enticing than I had ever thought it would be. Frankly I never realized he had this side to himself. I had assumed that a man wouldn’t walk around the house in just his boxers if he weren’t trying to show off a little, but I never knew just how big his ego could get. And I loved every second of it. “So at half my age, you’re afraid to be shirtless in front of me because my body is so ripped.” “Well afraid, and you’re pinning my arms to the floor.” I smirked with a slight verbal smack. Not going quite the route I was expecting, my father leaned back, taking his hands away from my arms releasing me. As he sat up right, his hard stone like ass against pressed against the very top of my thighs, he rolled his eyes and scrunched his lips together in exaggerated annoyance. He brought his right and left hands to my collar, and in one movement . . . he tore my shirt open. A clean tear struck down the middle as the fabric let out a thick tearing sound against his brut force. He released the fabric from his hands, allowing his arms to dangle momentarily by his side as he brought his glance back to me. He looked down at me with the subtlest, dominant smile he had ever given me. His eyes were slightly, almost unnoticeably, narrowed. For a moment I sat in silence staring up at him. My shirtless father had just ripped my shirt open while sitting on my thighs in just his boxers. I was truly, in every sense of the word, speechless. My arms hadn’t even moved from where he had pinned me. My dad’s eyes slowly left mine and began to trace along the large tear he had created. “Damn dude.” His eyes continued to move along my exposed torso. “You’ve been hitting the gym more than I thought.” His eyes continued to flow along my heaving torso as I processed what had just happened: he had complimented my body. HE had complimented MY body. “You’ve got a nice 6 pack.” He said in a baritone whisper letting his eyes rest on the traces of my abs. To be clear, as I said much earlier, I was by no means a slouch. I had spent time working out with my friends and putting in the effort to develop a better physique. That said however, my body was still nothing compared to my dad’s ripped bodybuilder physique. I would say I was just a little under average for a fit college guy. “I think I might have a better idea of what you were talking about earlier though.” He slowly brought his eyes back to mine tracing back up through my abs and my chest. He paused for a moment letting our eyes lock. “We’ve gone over a lot tonight, you might need to be more specific.” “About you feeling emasculated by me.” He responded immediately, with a clear and lucid tone. “What you were saying earlier, about looking good. You look . . .” he breathed in as he took my exposed torso in once again. “You look good.” He said in genuine admiration. In the strangest way, I knew what he was about to say and I was on the edge of self-control waiting for him to deliver his cocky answer, all but begging to hear him say it. Waiting to feel my father emasculate me. “But at 52 I look better than you do at 22. You’re emasculated because even though you’ve got a 6-pack and nice chest at 22, you know at 52 I’m bigger,” he struck a double bicep pose on top of me, letting the movement spread slowly to emphasize his stature. “,and stronger than you are.” He maintained his impressive bicep flex while tightening his thighs around my torso. My dad wasn’t lying about his strength, nor was he trying to hide it. Just by tensing his massive legs I could already feel a crushing pressure against both sides of my body. He was barely trying and already his vascular legs were exerting such strong force. With my hands finally free from his vice grip I brought my hands to his flexed thighs and rubbed along them. I tried to savor the feeling of my fathers bare legs under my fingers, letting them trace along his defined muscles. His skin was smooth and warm, save for the veins that my hands bumped over. I had wanted to rub his muscles for so long, and finally I could without shame. Hell, a few hours ago I was simply looking at him in the living room wishing I could see him without his shirt. Now, he was on top of me flexing while I rubbed his thighs as he crushed me with them for fun. “God damn you are so hot.” I let out in breathless admiration, trying to dig my fingers into his stone quads. “Can I ask you something?” He slowly moved his hands to the back of his head to maintain his powerful stature and flex. “I’m not really in a position to refuse you.” “That’s true, and I want you to be honest, or . . .” his legs became more defined as he applied more pressure against me. I naturally tensed at his increased pressure, but couldn’t believe how good it felt to feel his bare legs squeezing against my body. I continued to rub along the sides of his now steel like legs. “I might have to punish you a bit.” He smiled down at me as brought his arms into a most muscular. “How long have you wanted this?” I laughed nervously for a moment but responded a bit quicker than perhaps he thought I would. “Since the first time I saw you take your shirt off, and I saw how big you had gotten. I remember thinking how confusing it was seeing you so . . . muscular and young looking. I’m supposed to be the young and fit one, but you took your shirt off and there was no question in my mind that you were stronger than me. And ever since then . . . I’ve wanted to feel just how strong you are. I want to feel inferior to you.” I let my hands rest on his slowly relaxing quads for a moment. “And I assume I’ve done that right? I mean I don’t think I need to whip my dick out to prove I’m a bigger man than you.” My body nearly erupted at the thought of my dad lowering his boxers down to reveal what I already knew was a bigger dick than mine. From the moment he had taken his pants off I didn’t even need to question what was underneath. “You pinned me without trying, I’d say that pretty much proves it. And come on, you made me take your pants off and give you a foot message with no shirt. I don’t really question who the bigger man is.” I started to rub along his legs slowly. “I like it when you take charge.” He let out a single laugh as he let his torso fall, slamming his hands down beside me on both sides, just above my shoulders. “Well you must enjoy it . . .” my dad lifted his hips up before driving them into mine with a shocking amount of force. “Because you’ve got a raging boner right now.” He drug his boxers across my pants pressing my hard cock against his soft, but large, dick. I could feel the girth of his cock through is boxers, and he wasn’t even hard yet. “Do my muscles make you hard?” “It’s been so fucking hard to keep these down. Whenever I see you shirtless, or especially when you’re just in your boxers, you just look so damn hot. You’re twice my age but you’re so confident and . . . sexy.” He dragged his dick against mine once more, this time taking his time to make sure he went along the full length. I could feel just how thick he was from the feeling of his mass grinding against my throbbing boner. “Seeing you underneath me shirtless . . . and hard, is really starting to turn me on.” He purred as he pulled the heavy weight of his body away from mine. Suddenly, for the first time since we had started wrestling he backed away from, and stood up. Towering over me, upright and muscular, he looked down on me as I laid shirtless on the floor. I stared up at my father in his boxers, noticing that his underwear were more filled than they had been before. Submitting me like this was getting him excited. He brought his hand down to his boxers and started to lightly stroke his growing cock. “Take your pants off.” He commanded with clear and strict authority. Doing as I was told I pulled off my sweat pants, and dropped them to the side of me, looking back up at my dad. For the first time, I was now in my underwear in front of my bodybuilder father. His boxers were now starting to constrain against the size of his large, swelling dick. Still touching himself he commanded one more time, “stand up.” I felt my own boxers shift as I moved my legs to stand up. Standing for the first time in a few minutes, and since I had started to get hard, I felt a bit light headed but my senses started to return to me. The sheer amount of adrenalin and lust that I was feeling were enough to keep me focused despite the slight dizziness. “Now . . . take my boxers off.” He tightened his grip against his now fully erect cock before letting go of it. He let his hands fall to his side as I looked down to see the long, thick bulge in his underwear. The fabric could barely contain his erection. He was so long, but also incredibly thick. I hesitated for moment taking in seeing his boner for the first time. “Is it finally hitting you that my dick’s bigger than yours?” He asked as though this had been a mutual understanding for some time. “You’re so . . . fucking thick.” I said amazed. “Oh that’s cute.” He said sympathetically as he wrapped his large manly, muscular arms around my shoulders and neck. “You never looked at my dick before?” He rose his eyebrow in doubt. “Because I’ve seen you check my cock before.” He broke a grin as I savored the feeling of his powerful arms resting on my small shoulders. “And I know you want it, so . . .” he flexed his arms and pecs, letting his beautiful body flare into its powerful shape. His veins thickened on his arm, and his pecs seemed to pump up. “Get down on your knees and fucking beg to suck me.” Reacting on pure emotion and lust I let my body sink down. I put my hands against his tight pecs, squeezing them as I lowered my body, letting my hands brush against his nipples and down to his abs. Knowing exactly what I wanted he flexed his abs as my hands came across. His arms and pecs were still tensed, mixed with his abs, his bare feet, and his now throbbing dick . . . I had never seen my father look so masculine. “I’m half your age, and yet you are the most muscular, powerful, and thick man I have ever seen.” I brushed my hands along his hips. “So let me make you feel like the man you are.” I breathed in and looked up into his eyes. “I want to take your pants off, and I want you to make me your bitch.” “You want to be daddy’s bitch?” He inched slightly closer to me putting his thick mass right against my face. “Yes.” I affirmed with absolute certainty. “I’ve wanted your body for so fucking long.” He caressed my back with his fingers as he nodded his head down at me. With his signal I finally did what I had embarrassingly fantasized about for so long: I reached my fingers into the sides of his boxer and almost without thinking I let my hands pull down against his body. Almost as if in slow motion I watched as the fabric came down and his massive, vascular, cock came into view one inch at a time. As the boxers reached the tip of his head, his entire manhood sprung out from the fabric and slowly settled upright against his body, free of its constraint. I pulled his underwear over his enlarged and cut quads down to his feet as he stepped out of them. I left them in my hand a moment, letting the heat and sweat of the fabric seep into my hands, as I stared up in complete awe of what I saw: my naked, muscular, mature father – bearing his erect dick in front of my face. His dick was almost touching my face, I had never seen him look so intimidating powerful or beautiful. Unable to resist, I began to open my mouth and move my lips towards his long manhood. Just as I did he brought his hand from my back to my mouth, covering it as though to block out the words I could no longer even bring myself to use. “No no no.” He brought his right hand over to stroke his swollen dick in front of my face. “I said you were going to beg to suck me. You don’t just blow a man with a ripped, gorgeous body and big dick. You have to earn that shit.” He moved just to my right. “Besides, I took my shirt off, flexed, let you rub my feet, touch my muscles, and then I pinned you to the floor like a little bitch . . . I think you need to return the favor a little before I let you try and blow me.” He took a step forward, turning his body to now bring his shredded back and bare ass to my face, and suddenly I had a deviously nasty idea where he was headed. “So before you get to suck my seven inch cock,” He struck a double back bicep pose and looked back over his shoulder. “You’re going to eat my ass.” He finished his pose by tightening his glutes causing his ass to rise and condense. Seeing my father completely naked, flexing his ass in front of me along with his ripped and defined back is by far one of the hottest things I had seen in my entire life. Looking at his flexed glutes so many different thoughts ran through my mind. I thought back to how just earlier this afternoon I had been anxious to see my father unbutton his shirt, knowing he was about to show off his body in passing. Now, as I inched closer to his exposed body on my knees, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. I didn’t have to lie or bottle up any of these emotions anymore, I could finally embrace them. I placed my hands on his hips, delicately letting my fingers slide down his skin. A small hint of his cologne came across my face as I moved closer to him. The scent of his cologne only further pushed me to give into my instincts. I brought lips closer to his ass, and after a moment of hesitation, I placed my lips on the peak of his flexed glutes. His body was warm, smooth, and incredibly hard. I let my lips sit for half a second before letting them come away. Every inch of my body was feverish from being able to finally kiss his naked body. He relaxed his pose, letting his ass fall slightly, though it still looked firmer and harder than mine did flexed. He lightly placed his hands over mine. He brought my hands onto the front of his thighs, but stopped them short of being able to touch his massive erection. He pressed my hands against his thigh, stroking the tops of my fingers. “Keep going. I want to feel your mouth inside my ass.” Seemingly contrary to his words a few seconds ago, this was almost more of a request rather than a command. Either way, I wasn’t about to displease my father. I let my body fall forward slightly, landing my lips against the peak of his bare glute, but this time my lips were less tame. I opened my mouth slightly letting my tongue touch his skin, still surprised at just how hard it felt. I continued to kiss along the muscular mound until I came to the crack. A rush of energy came through me as I began to pull my hands out from under his. “Whatever you want daddy.” I breathed in the complete pleasure of surrendering myself. I was submitting to my father, but somehow I felt a sense of control I hadn’t felt before. I placed my hands firmly on both of his hard, masculine cheeks, taking the opportunity to squeeze as hard as I could, appreciating every second I groped his ass. Sensing my enjoyment he tightened his glutes again, pushing my fingers out from his skin, unable to dent his now flexed muscles. He brought his left hand to his cock and started to stroke back and forth. He was already getting off to my show of admiration. I took a deep breathe, slowly closing my eyes. I could feel the tension rise in my body as every inch of me prepared to show him just how much I had been wanting to do this. Before I could even fully feel my body move, my lips were in the middle of his crack, once again trying to spread his thick, defined cheeks. Unable to resist the combined sensation of stroking his own cock and my lips against his crack, his ass untightened and my lips seemed to sink in further. I pulled with slightly more force as I allowed my mouth and tongue to engulf his crack. Both of our breathing picked up as I dug my mouth into his ass. I couldn’t resist myself. I continued to kiss, eventually letting my tongue run along his exposed hole. “Oh fuck!” He called out in pleasure as my tongue crossed it. His ass relaxed even more as I continued to press my face into his crack, letting all of my built up passion loose on his masculine hole. “Fucking eat that ass!” He contracted his glutes slightly, pushing my face back a small amount, but not enough that I couldn’t still pleasure his hole with my tongue. I continued for another few seconds, allowing myself to melt into the firm muscles that held my face. “God damn your mouth feels so good.” I let out a distorted moan, the throbbing in my pants becoming almost painful. I hadn’t even touched my dick but my boxers were already soaked with precum. Unable to restrain myself I pulled my mouth back for a moment, and slapped both of my hands against his bare ass, with more force than perhaps I had intended. My father let out a deep moan as my palms met his ass, creating a slight cracking sound. “Fuck you’re so sexy.” I let out, squeezing his glutes, admiring what I had just pleasured. “Stand up.” He breathed heavily, but still with a tone of command. I stood up behind my father, purposefully letting my wet cock press against his ass. He had slowed his hand strokes, and was now pulling against his dick at a slower pace. I looked in the mirror in front of us and tried to take in every inch of his naked body. “God damn your cock’s thick.” He breathed out as I began to kiss his muscular shoulders. I let my hands wrap around his lats and placed my palms against his pumped pecs. He breathed out as my hands crossed his hard nipples. “Yeah squeeze my tits.” He commanded, as I complied and dug my fingers into his thick pecs before he tensed them to make them rock solid under fingers. We both kept our eyes on the mirror, getting off on seeing our bodies pressed against one another, me worshiping his superior and masculine body. I let my entire body squeeze against my fathers powerful muscles, kissing along his neck, unleashing all of the lust and passion I had been trying to hide from him. “How does it feel to be submitted by a dad twice your age?” “I feel like such a little slut,” My words being smothered against my lips pressing his warm skin. “being able to make love to such a fucking thick man.” “Are you ready to be daddy’s little bitch?” He started to stroke his cock faster as I grinded my wet boxers against his crack. I felt a slight amount of precum leak out at the realization that his glutes might have been harder than my own cock. “Fuck yes. My dick can’t take much more.” I breathed out in anticipation, letting my hands stroke his pecs. My father let his thick neck fall back as I continued to kiss along it before he let out a small laugh. “I am going to throat fuck you so hard.” “Do you want me on the bed, or on my knees?” I brought my hands to his back and began to trace along his striated muscles. Each muscle felt hard and dense against my soft fingers. I continued to trace down his muscular, wide, thick back enamored at just how defined and cut it had become. I swept my fingers across his pumped muscles before bringing them back to the two mounds I had taken with my mouth only seconds ago. “I’m ready to submit to you.” I breathed against his neck as I took his ass in my hands squeezing and savoring how muscular his entire body felt. I was finally able to touch my father’s muscles, feeling just how strong and powerful he had become. My cock was ready to erupt, I was struggling to contain myself. I had only ever dreamt of being able to touch him, much less rim him, I couldn’t believe he was about to finally fuck me. He turned around towards me and stroked his hands along my arms. As his right hand touched my arm I noticed a warm, sticky liquid rub off onto my skin. “You’re starting to precum.” I said bringing my lips close to his as my hands felt along his flexed lats. His bare chest was lightly touching mine. I can’t even describe the rush of having such a masculine naked man in front of me, so close. The faint sensation of his brick-lick pecs touching mine was nearly enough to make me finish where we stood. “Watching men get turned on by my body gets me so wet.” He confessed as he applied pressure to my shoulders, forcing me onto my knees. “Seeing you getting off to touching my muscles, worshiping me like the man I am, gets me so fucking hot.” I looked up at his naked body, enthralled by his dominance. He struck a double bicep pose, flaring his quads in front of me, with his erect cock in my face. His throbbing, wet, seven inch cock was barely a few inches away from my mouth as I slowly rubbed my thighs trying to resist the urge to jack myself off. “Now.” He said in a dominant baritone voice as he straightened his posture and squared his hips in front of me. “Suck that shit.” I had waited so long to hear those words. I had thought of this moment more times than I am proud of, but whenever my dad would come into the kitchen in just his boxers, I couldn’t help my mind from going there. Imagining what it would be like to finally see him take his underwear off, letting his thick cock spring out, and then asking me to suck it. The tip of his head was almost touching my lips. My heart slammed against my chest as I hesitantly started to open my mouth. After a moment, almost by instinct, my mouth opened further and I took his throbbing head into my mouth. The warm, wet, smooth tip rubbed against the roof of my mouth as I began to slowly suck and lick his shaft. I could feel the precum spread across the top of my mouth as I took his long, vascular, hard shaft deeper into my mouth. I breathed deeply, letting the inexplicable pleasure of finally being able to suck this man’s cock overtake me. His beautiful, muscular body deserved to be pleasured. I had fantasized about blowing him for so long, and now his thick wet manhood was in my mouth. He arched his back and moaned as I continued to move my mouth closer and closer to the base of his shaft. I moved my mouth back and forth across his skin, keeping my lips firm, licking his head with each thrust. “Don’t forget daddy’s balls.” He breathed out, for the first time this entire evening seemingly genuinely short of breath. Obeying his demand, I took his dick out of my mouth, putting my hand around his shaft stroking it and squeezing, as I let my mouth engulf his large balls. He was better endowed than I was, so taking such large balls into my mouth was a surprise at first. I gently licked and sucked against sack. He let out another sigh of pleasure as my tongue slowly grazed one of his nuts. I looked up to him, my eyes passing along the erotically lit curves of his abs and pecs, locking eyes just as I took it into my mouth. I rolled his loaded nut against my tongue a few more times before letting his now wet sack out of my mouth, returning to his throbbing, cum soaked cock. I took his head faster this time, licking and swallowing his pre cum. He placed his hands on his hips and flexed his pecs and abs as he looked down at me, his mouth open so that he could breathe harder. “Yeah you fucking take my cock.” Seeing him flex his large muscles as I blew him on my knees was by far the hottest thing I had ever felt. “Grab my tits.” He flexed his pecs, causing them to roll up slowly into condensed mounds. Wanting to pleasure him, I reached my hands up and groped his thick pecs. He released his flex allowing my hands to grab into his chest. With his cock in my mouth and his thick pecs in my hands, his nipples rubbing against my palms, I couldn’t help but moan. He flexed his chest again, this time tensing his arms and abs at the same time. I could see his quads become striated in front of my face. All of the muscles along his pelvis tensed in ways I hadn’t seen before. “Who’s daddy’s bitch?” He asked with his entire vascular body now flexed. I briefly let my mouth free. “Me.” I breathed out before taking his member back into my mouth. I sucked hard against his shaft before releasing it. “Do you like submitting me?” I looked up into his eyes as I groped his nipples and licked the tip of his head. “Do you like it when I make you feel like a man?” I gave a sharp smile as I lightly twisted his nipples. His dick jumped away from my tongue and another rush of precum seeped out of his dick. He let a quick, almost calm, smile come to his face before grabbing my hair with his thick muscular arms. He tilted my head back, as the precum dripped from his dick onto my upper thigh. “Do you want me to make you feel like a man?” He emphasized the reversal of my comment. I knew exactly what he was asking, and my entire body nearly shook with anticipation at the very though of it. I let my arms slowly come down along his body, savoring every inch of his shredded physique. “Are you going to fuck me?” I asked with a coy smile. “Do you want me to?” I couldn’t help but let a small involuntary laugh come out at the absurdity of his question. I was on my knees, rubbing his naked body, and had just swallowed his precum. “Do you even need to ask?” I replied looking up at him enraptured by his natural dominance and masculinity. He started to stroke my hair, stepping forward just enough that his dick was now at the side of my face, and his powerful masculine body towered over me. He gripped my hair lightly with one hand and used the other to smack his erect dick against my left cheek. The sound of skin hitting seemed to fill the room, breaking the intimate silence of our breathing. “You’ve seen how thick I am. Between my cock and,” He looked at himself for a moment, “this massive body, you might be a bit sore by the time I’m done.” He let go of his cock and directed his hips so that his dick was now in front of my lips. “You know I’ve wanted you to fuck me.” “Good.” He said quietly and sensually. “But before I wreck your ass,” he straightened his legs lining his dick up. “let’s see if you can handle daddy mouth fucking you.” He said in a deep, primal voice. Before I could say anything to spur his ego on further, he used his two large hands to cup the back of my head and drove my mouth onto his dick. I quickly opened my lips and took the bulk of his long cock. Before I could really even wrap my tongue around it he started to thrust his hips back and forth, still with my mouth around his dick. He took a deep breath in as he started to mouth fuck me. I was barely moving my head, fully surrendering to the powerful thrusts his body exerted against my head. He thrusted in and out of my mouth as I reciprocated his rhythm with tightening and releasing my lips and tongue. “Fuck!” He breathed out slowly as his thrusts became slower, but much harder. My father’s body was so muscular and powerful, and he was using his strength to slam his cock into my mouth as hard as he could. I looked up and saw that the veins in his arms were swollen against his force. His abs and pecs became more defined, and the striations in his shoulders became more pronounced. He grunted as he continued to retract out and then shove his cock deeper into my mouth. I began to moan as the feeling of my father’s powerful body and large cock were getting to be too much to handle. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.” He said hastening his explosive thrusts into my mouth. His movements became more rhythmic as his body gave into the ecstatic build up. I grabbed his bare ass and squeezed his glutes, feeling his thick muscles tense and release with each thrust. Slipping further into primal ecstasy with each thrust, I let my fingers go further along his stone-like ass until I reached his crack. Wanting so bad for him to unload in my mouth, I dug my right hand into his crack. I could feel just how sweaty he had become as my finger circled his tight hole, matching the rhythm of my fingers with his hips. “Fuck yeah.” He let out in a deep growl. Unable to restrain himself any further, my father’s entire body starting to clench up, his head tilted back his lips rolled, and his ass tightened against my fingers. “Take my load bitch.” He growled before thrusting his cock one last time against my mouth. This time, just as he reached as far as he could I felt his cock expand under my lips. A thick burst of cum erupted into my mouth, quickly filling the small space his cock hadn’t already filled. I began to suck and lick harder as I swallowed his massive load. He moaned out and seemed to freeze in place as his entire body flared with euphoria. His cum kept pouring into my mouth as I struggled to take all of it. I felt the warm, creamy jets spread across my tongue one after the other. I tried to take his nut as it poured into my mouth, but with each swallow a new stream of cum would unload. Much like my father’s muscular body, his cum shots were proving to be too much for me to handle. Just as his dick started to release the last of his cum, I couldn’t handle the tension. I swallowed his final cum stream, before letting myself fall back onto my elbows, looking up at my fathers muscular body and his throbbing, soaked cock. His body had gotten a little sweaty from mouth fucking me. Seeing my father’s muscular body naked, his erect cock, knowing he had just submitted me, my entire body was overtaken. Without even touching myself, I pulled my boxers back finally freeing my dick from its constraints. I pushed up with my hips, arching my back as cum erupted all over my abs. “Fuck.” I cried out in a choked voice as I kept cuming, seemingly harder with each shot. My body was completely taken by the most euphoric sense of release I had felt in my entire life. I had wanted to feel his body and see his dick for so long. And having just taken his cum, I couldn’t stop my body from releasing that unmatched, pent-up, lustful joy. I let my elbows give out, as my back hit the floor. I let my cock twitch a few more times, letting the cum pour onto my skin. I breathed out, unable to speak. For the next ten seconds or so the room was filled with the sound of us breathing and reveling in the pleasure of our orgasms. In the oddest way, the entire world seemed to slip away. I wasn’t even thinking about what had just happened, I simply let my entire being melt away into something I couldn’t even describe or grasp. I had never felt such a sense of ecstasy and pure calmness. I let my head roll to the right, my body now sprawled out in front of my father. I slowly felt my conscience come back to me. I could hear my dad’s feet against the carpet as I slowly, drunkenly opened my eyes. He knelt down beside me, his cock still fully erect as he put his weight onto one knee. “You give one hell of a blow job.” He smirked, still breathing heavily. “Is that what you’ve been learning at college?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “I have many talents I’m known for.” I gave him a vixen smile, speaking in a rasp. “If I had known I would have had you suck my cock a long time ago.” He looked up and down my exposed body. “I wouldn’t have teased you so long walking around in my underwear.” I was still coming down from the high, but already my body felt a singeing adrenalin rush. My naked, muscular father, still fully erect after cuming in my mouth, admitted that he walked around in his boxers, shirtless and showing of his bulge, to tease me. I reached up and let my hand grab his flexed calf. “Do you have any idea just how sexy how you are?” I asked slowly caressing his steel like muscle. He let out a small laugh, almost as though admitting he did. “I mean seriously, you’re a 52-year-old doctor, and you have the body and stamina of a 20 year old. You’re sure-as-fuck stronger than me.” “I have a lot of stamina too.” He said looking at me flatly. I nodded my head looking at his still erect cock. “Apparently. You’re still rock solid.” “My muscles aren’t the only intimidating thing about me I take it?” “Now why would I be intimidated?” I smiled sarcastically. “You wrestle me, make me feel your muscles, then whip out your massive dick, which is bigger than mine by the way. And at 52 you’re apparently even hornier than I am at 22.” “You like me being a daddy don’t you?” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “What’s not to like?” He flexed his right arm, against his now thick and flared quads. “Well.” He looked at his arm before looking back at me. “In case my throbbing cock didn’t already give it away, I am still horny.” He released his flexed arm and slowly moved his body on top of mine. He put his muscular, thick, and vascular arms on both sides of my head, spreading my legs apart with his. He let his cock come down and rub against the cum on my stomach. “I think it’s time for round two.” He said in a low, pointed tone spreading my legs slightly further. “Damn you are horny!” I thrusted my cock against his, teasing him. He took a breath in before looking down into my eyes. “You have such a cute little ass. It drives me crazy.” I slowly brought my arms up and moved my fingers along his flared biceps and triceps. I slid my fingers along his smooth, but rock-solid muscles. “And apparently my arms drive you crazy.” He quipped. “So I’ve been honest with you, although it might not have been hard to figure out. If you walked around I’d check you out. And I’d wonder what it would be like to feel your muscles and see that massive dick.” I squeezed his flexed arms, still astounded at just how hard and vascular they were. My finger bumped over his thick veins as I stroked them. “Did you ever think about me?” I asked directly. “And my cute little ass?” I moved my fingers along from his biceps down to his incredibly vascular and thick forearms. “You’re not as much of a tease as I am, but . . .” He looked up and down my body. “Yeah, I’ve wondered what it would be like to rip your clothes off.” He lowered his arms down as though doing a push up, letting his cock press into my abdomen as he did. My cum moved out from under his dick as he did, smearing against his abs. He lowered himself down until his face was nearly touching mine. “I’ve also thought about some pretty nasty things we could do.” He took a deep breath in pushing himself back up. This time though he sat himself up, and struck a lat and pec pose, letting his thick lats expand past his sides as his pecs popped up. His dick jumped as he completed the pose. “And daddy needs to cum again.” “I can help make that happen.” I rubbed along his thigs, squeezing his muscular cut quads. “Good.” He let his pose go and slowly rose up away from me. Standing over me he placed his hands on his hips, once again letting his cock bounce. “Stand up.” His tone now more resembled the one it had earlier. The calm from his last orgasm must have been wearing off, and his testosterone was starting to take over again at the thought of finally being able to ass fuck me. Not daring to question my muscular father’s command I stood up in front of him. “Is your dick ready?” He asked. I couldn’t help but notice the irony of the 52-year-old asking if the 22 year old’s dick was ready for another round. “I’ve been ready to blow since earlier today, so I’m good.” I answered as he brought his strong hands to my arms and stroked them. The tips of our dicks touched causing both of them to jump in response. “Just checking. I think sometimes men are a bit taken aback. But with the amount that I work out, my test is through the roof, which makes me so goddamn horny. Men your age are still coming down from the last orgasm and I’m ready to go.” “That is so hot.” I breathed out as I grabbed his biceps again, looking him in the eyes. “The idea of you fucking guys my age, you have to know you are . . .” I took a breath thinking. “insanely sexy right?” “I figured that out when a grad student was all but begging me to take my pants off.” He flexed his biceps as I continued to hold them, letting his mounds swell and peak under my weaker grip. “That dude cam in his pants just watching me flex without a shirt.” He repeated the flex one more time. “Can’t say that I blame him. You’re smart, beautiful, kind, mature . . . basically the entire package.” I marveled in a distant voice. He took a step forward making our dicks press together as his chest pushed against mine. The feeling of his hard nipples and pecs pressing against me made my cock ache with desire. “Do you want to worship me a little before my cock breaks your ass?” He said so casually, in an almost innocent voice, a contrast to his otherwise authoritative body. “Fuck yes.” I brought my left hand to the back of his head, and my right hand over his bare ass, pulling him closer to me as I kissed him. I pressed my lips against his, letting my body take in the sensation of his warm lips. He reciprocated my movements, as I slowly slid my tongue across his lips. I squeezed his firm ass as he tightened his grip along my arms. After a moment we pulled away, and looked at each other. A complete two or three seconds passed before he spoke. “Get on the bed.” He ordered. I looked over to my left towards the bed and began to walk towards, only stopping when I got to the foot of the bed. I couldn’t help but crack a slight grin as an idea popped into my head. “Could you lift me?” I placed my hands against the edge of the bed and leaned back. I paused for a second nervous to defy his order with a request. “And then maybe throw me onto it?” “Did you like it when I carried you earlier?” “It was really hot.” I said looking him in his eyes as I brought my hand down to my erect dick. I slowly stroked my shaft as I continued, “whenever you exert your authority like that, it really turns me on.” “Alright then.” He said clearly enjoying what he was about to do. In a quick movement my father grabbed my upper legs, making his forearms hit against my lower ass. In a single squat movement he lifted my entire body up so that I was resting on his fists and forearms, our chests touching. I wrapped my arms around his neck and breathed in deeply with the rush of adrenalin of being lifted by my naked, powerful father. I looked down to see his vascular, pumped biceps fully flexed with my weight. His arms were so large. On top of that, it seemed like his traps and shoulders were getting pumped from holding me. Small veins started to appear all over his upper torso. “Is this what you like?” He asked sensually. I rubbed my dick against his abs slowly. “Yeah.” I moaned out letting my cock rub between the crevices of his 8 pack. I was humping my dad’s 8 pack, to say this is what I liked was a vast understatement. “It’s a good thing you enjoy being my bitch. I don’t think I’ll ever need to remind you who has the bigger muscles or the thicker cock in this house right?” “Fuck no. You’re way more of a man than I am.” I continued to rub against his hard abs. He slowly walked back a few feet. “It must be a bit intimidating for you knowing that I bang men your age who only look half as good as I do.” I looked down at my dad’s hard pecs and let my fingers press against his hard traps. “Do you fuck a lot of guys my age?” My tone was quiet but fueled with lust. His grip tightened around my ass. “You’ve seen me naked at this point, you tell me.” “True,” I lifted my head up from his massive chest and back to his eyes. For a brief second I could hear our deep breathing, both of us panting with pent up sexual tension. My father had made me his bitch at this point, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t willing to add to the fire. I knew he already wanted me, but I also knew I could drive him even further. I wanted him to be just as in need of my body as I was of his. “But.” I brought my hands up and stroked his muscled neck, letting my fingers graze up to his hair. “Talk only gets you so far . . . I want to feel how you fuck guys my age.” I brought my right foot up and brushed it against his right ass cheek. “Are you going to fuck me?” I rasped as I pressed my lips against his neck. I began to kiss him deeply and slowly, moving my lips further up his neck as he stretched back savoring the moment. “Oh yeah,” he let out, seemingly involuntarily. His grip tightened against my ass and his arms almost began squeezing me against his chest. “I hope you’re ready.” I could feel his voice vibrate against my lips as I kissed just under his jaw. “Take me.” I breathed out letting myself get carried away. I grinded my cock against his 8-pack again, breathing in deeply. “I’m yours.” “Damn straight.” He replied with a full masculine voice, taking a few steps forward. I felt his pumped arms tense under my body as he threw me onto the bed. I landed on my back with a thud, gaining my bearings. I looked up, and just as I did, my dad brought his right foot up onto the bed, showing off his incredibly large and muscular leg. Everything from his foot, to his calves, to his quads seemed pumped and powerful. Standing in front of me, his cock was fully erect. He was horny, and ready for release. “I think it’s time you learn what it’s like to get fucked by a man.” He climbed onto the bed and took a few steps until his body was towering over my hips. He placed his hands on his hips, his legs on both sides of my hips. His flexed his entire body, causing every muscle group I could see to contract and grow with power. His cock jumped, and a small drop of precum came out of my father’s long, hard, pulsating cock. From my vantage point, my father had never looked so masculine or powerful. I could see his tight glutes protruding from behind his massive legs. I couldn’t help touching myself seeing him standing over me so dominantly. He slowly unflexed and lowered his body down. “No, no, no.” He grabbed my hands away from my dick and quickly pinned me to the bed. The force he exerted against my wrists was unbelievable. I was suddenly curious just how rough he could get with me. “You’re not going to jack off yet, no matter how sexy I am.” He began to slowly grind his hard cock against mine. I moaned, unable to contain the indescribable feeling of his thick dick rubbing against mine, knowing he was bigger and thicker than I was. He humped me a few more times, never letting go of my wrists. Some of his cum smeared against my cock, letting his slide against mine. “Fuck you have a nice dick.” He growled pressing harder against my body. The force he was able to exert was intoxicating. I knew my father was strong before, but I had never felt his strength like this. His grinds became slower and more rhythmic until he stopped and released my wrists. “Do you need me to loosen you up a little?” He brought his hands from my neck down to my nipples. “You’re the biggest man I’ll have ever taken, so you better get my hole ready.”
    18 points
  36. Nine The more I think about the way Shaun acted that night, the more pissed off I feel about the whole thing. He hasn’t spoken to me for the last few days, and I haven’t spoken to him either. In a weird way, it’s actually kind of refreshing. Just to not have to bother talking to him. Is that a really bad thing to think about someone who is supposed to be one of your best mates? When Saturday night comes, we still haven’t spoken a word to each other. I’m secretly glad that he’s in the room when I start getting ready to go to Adam’s. I can feel his eyes digging into the back of my head as I’m putting on my skinny jeans and choosing a t-shirt. I know he’s wondering why I’m getting changed. Where I’m going. And who I'm going out with. And I’m secretly getting a kick out of it. I bet he’s just DYING to fucking ask me. I feel like I should maybe put something on over my tight white t-shirt. I dunno. It’s just gonna me and Adam (I think). I feel like if I cover up it might help squash any potential awkwardness. So I grab a tight fitted blue jumper I usually wear for family things at Christmas. I half expect Shaun to make a snarky comment before I leave. “Enjoy the gay bar!” Or something like that. I sneak a glance at him before I leave. He’s watching something on his laptop. He looks bothered. And I feel a stab of guilt. Am I in the wrong here? Is he right to be pissed off with me? Maybe I should have just invited Shaun to Adam’s birthday thing last week? It would have saved all of this. But I still can’t shake his twatty comment about me going to a gay bar. Or what that comment implies. I’m so busy thinking about Shaun, that I only start to feel nervous about what’s happening tonight when I’m literally standing at the door of Adam Lloyd’s Prince House dorm room. I have a sudden thought. What if it ISN’T just us two tonight? What if he’s invited his mate/potential secret boyfriend, Ty? Or someone else? I’m surprised at how much that thought bothers me. Soon enough Adam’s opening the door and practically filling up the doorway with his frame. “All right, D?” he says, with a smile that seems part excited and part shy. Adam clearly didn’t have the same thoughts as me about covering up, because he’s bulging out of a tight white t-shirt. I’m kind of disappointed he’s opted for dark grey jogging bottoms instead of the skinny jeans he wore last week. Are MY jeans overkill? We are only gaming after all. And yet - I swear when he looks at my bottom half he ominously smirks in response. He tells me to sit down on the little leather sofa as he fiddles with the remote on his huge TV. “I can’t believe you have a sofa!” I say. He looks back and gives me a little grin. When he turns back around, my eyes go down to those humongous arse cheeks bulging underneath his joggers. Fucking hell. Adam spins around. And now he’s walking towards me. All two hundred and fuck-knows-what pounds of him. He stretches his arm out and hands me one of his controllers. He’s biting his lip. He’s still his usual confident self. But for the first time ever, he looks kind of … nervous. Is that because of me? And then he sits down next to me. FUCK. My hard on swells even more in my skinny jeans. It’s like the bus ride to Little Hatton all over again. Only this time the bus won’t stop. And there’s no one else around. It’s just me and Adam Lloyd. Alone in his dorm room-slash-mini fucking apartment. Sitting right next to each other. “Okay, D - what do you fancy playing?” he says, scrolling through his home screen. I suggest a title and he tells me it's a good choice. I’m finding it really hard to look over at him. I can't believe he's right there. All that mass bulging. Have I mentioned he smells kinda great too? “So ... what's Shaun up to tonight?” Ugh. My chest tightens at the mention of my roommate. “Ummm ... SU bar, I think.” That seems like a pretty convincing lie. “Does he remember insulting me over my ears?” My mouth curls into a smile. “He didn’t. But I reminded him.” I look over at him. One of those crooked grins is on his face. God, this guy is hot. How can a guy like this just have landed in my life? Huge and good looking and actually likes lads. It doesn’t seem right. There has to be some kind of catch. Like a secret geeky boyfriend who wears Ghostbusters t-shirts. Or a gorgeous blonde girlfriend who’s about to trap him by announcing she’s pregnant. “Does he ALWAYS get that pissed?” Adam’s still smiling, but I know there’s something hidden behind that comment. It feels like Adam’s secretly judging Shaun for getting so drunk. Jesus. If only he saw some of the states I got into back home in Brighton last summer. “Ummm … he was a bit of a mess that night. He’s been a bit, hmmm … funny, lately.” Why am I telling him this? “How come?” “Mmmm. I think it’s … you know, the whole training programme thing. Me going to the McCarthy Classic.” Adam nods. “I guess it can't be easy when your best mate’s one of the best in the year.” I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. I don't look at Adam. I don't want him to see that I’m now smiling because of that comment. I clear my throat. “Probably doesn’t really help with Ash and Mafra going too. We’re kind of a foursome.” I look over at Adam. He’s smiling and nodding a little. “Eric seems like a good lad. I haven’t really spoken to Ashley.” I want to tell him that Ashley’s sound too. Even though I’m pretty sure he’d ditch us all if a group of bigger, better bodybuilding students came along. “So …,” Adam begins, ominously. I look over at him. “Two weeks today!” he says, a big cheeky smirk spreading across his face. I smirk back and nod, feeling a jolt of excitement. It’s pretty mad to think that two weeks from today I’ll be at the McCarthy fucking Classic in America. I may have already stepped on stage. May have already met Mitchell “The Machine” Murray and Felix King and who knows which other competition conditioned IFBB pro monsters. A part of me keeps wondering whether something is going to go wrong. Is that a bit fucked up? The uni cancelling the trip at the last minute. Or me tearing a pec or bicep the day before we’re set to fly out. That would just be my fucking luck. “And I’ll be at my parents in Sandwich,” Adam says. “Watching the Livestream. Cheering on my favourite second-year.” What the fuck? I feel my cheeks flush. This warmth goes through me. I’m smiling. And I can’t seem to look at Adam Lloyd right now. Adam clears my throat. “Eric Mafra!” I look over. He’s cheekily smirking at me. Wow. A moment. An actually fucking moment with Adam jug-eared tank-sized Lloyd. “I’m kinda looking forward to seeing Ozzie too.” I almost drop my fucking controller. I turn and glare at Adam like he’s gone completely nuts. “Oh, come on!” Adam says, with a big amused grin. “You can’t say his posing style isn’t entertaining!” “That’s one word for it,” I say. I think about telling Adam about my conversation with Ozzie in the locker room earlier in the week. Where I completely ripped apart his posing style. I’m not entirely sure that Adam would approve though. “Nothing wrong with a bit of cockiness on stage, Deano.” I look at him with an eyebrow raised. “Well - you can’t say Ozzie doesn’t have a good physique!” “Mmmm. No - I’ll give him that,” I say, suddenly picturing Ozzie’s bonkers shaped abs and those thick round glutes from when he posed the other week. “That’s about the only thing he’s got going for him.” Adam lets out a shocked, little laugh. “Wow! Savage!” he says. Shit. Was that too harsh? “Did you know his Instagram is set to private?” “Yeah!” Adam exclaims. “What's that about?” I pull a face and shrug. “It makes no sense,” Adam says. “Considering how confident he is!” I beat Adam in the game we’re playing and he shouts, “OI!” and then knocks me from the side. His big brutal shoulder crashing into mine. Fuck. I can’t seem to stop smiling. If I do it again, will he react in a similar way? Will I get to feel that mass pressed up against me again? After an hour or so of gaming, Adam asks me if I fancy playing something else. When he loads up a new game, he clears his throat and sits back down next to me on his little two-seater sofa. “So … I gotta ask.” Why do I suddenly feel nervous? I wait for Adam to continue talking, without looking over at him. “What’s the deal with you and Woody?” Oh my God. He did not just ask me that. Okay. Keep it together, Deano. “Ummm …,” I mumble, not looking at him. I pull a face. “You just … don’t get on?” “Mmmm. I dunno. In one way we kind of do?” Why the hell did I just say that? “You seemed like you got on okay, to be fair.” I look over at Adam. He doesn’t look suspicious. Or nervous. It feels like a pretty normal conversation. “After a bit of a rocky start,” he says, side-eyeing me with a little smirk. I clear my throat. “It was mostly, like … stupid first-year stuff, I guess. Him annoying me. Me annoying him.” (Me secretly wanting to kiss him. Me ACTUALLY kissing him. Me then outing him to the whole fucking school over Facebook and getting suspended for it.) “Bit of a bodybuilding rivalry, then? He does come across as a bit cocky, to be fair.” I fight the urge to scoff. Just a fucking bit, I think. “He’s a good lad though. Luke, too.” My stomach tightens. Even though I can’t say he’s lying. Who could ever say Luke Henderson wasn’t a nice guy? “They kinda had it rough last year.” Fuck. “I take it you know about the Facebook post?” Oh my FUCKING God. My whole body freezes up. I can’t look at Adam. “Ummm, yeah. I didn’t really see it.” No. I was just the one who fucking POSTED IT. I suddenly have a thought - what the hell would Adam think if he knew that? Woody obviously hasn’t told him that little detail of the story. I don’t really know why he’d not tell him. But whatever the reason, I’m grateful for it. “You know ... Woody wanted to drag me to Glasgow that night we went to Little Hatton.” It feels like my heart skips a beat. “Oh right,” I say. My voice sounding flat. Okay - I need to say more than that. “Bit far, isn’t it?” Adam laughs. “Yep! We almost got stranded there last time.” Last time! So Adam is bringing this up. I can’t believe he’s actually bringing this up. “Plus … well, I wasn’t sure if you’d be up for it.” I swallow. Why do I suddenly feel nervous? And why is there this atmosphere all of a sudden? It’s like something has shifted. I’m not looking at Adam Lloyd. I’m looking straight ahead at his TV screen. “How come?” (I can’t believe I just asked that.) My heartbeat’s quickened. Don’t look at him. Because he’ll see how nervous you are. “The distance for one.” For one. So what’s number two? What’s the OTHER reason, Adam? You ridiculously good looking, jug-eared, huge arse owning tank? “And, well … I wasn’t sure if the club would be your kind of thing!” Fuck. My chest tightens. “Or maybe it would?” Oh my God. I (finally) look over at him. Wow. He looks nervous. “You CAN trust me, Deano.” I nod. Adam’s face relaxes. He smiles at me. A pretty fucking gorgeous smile. And I feel my whole body relax. The atmosphere in the whole room relaxes. I can’t believe it. I’m doing the thing I never thought I’d do. I’m coming out to someone at Muscle University. Someone I didn’t just jump on top of and inappropriately kiss. “How did you know?” I ask, gently Adam smirks. A kind, sort of cute smirk. “Well, I didn’t know for definite. Just … a feeling I had.” I nod. I’m tempted to ask whether Woody accidentally blabbed to him like he did to me about Adam. For all I know he could have, and Adam’s just trying to protect him. I guess it doesn’t really matter. He knows. Someone on campus actually knows about me. This feels … pretty fucking huge. “Do you know if there are any others at MU?” I ask Adam, nervously. “Like us?” Adam cheekily smirks. I suddenly realise we’ve sort of abandoned the game we were playing. “Erm. I only know Woody and Luke for sure. I’m sure there ARE others though.” I nod. “What about your mate, Ty?” Adam laughs. “No. He’s definitely straight.” Huh. So there goes my theory about Adam’s huge hot friend from the SU bar being his boyfriend. And being the real reason Adam came back to Montgomery. Out of nowhere, a voice in my head cries, “What if he came back for you?” Ridiculous. Absolutely. Fucking. Ridiculous. “I definitely think we’re a rarity. Although … well, there are rumours about certain pro bodybuilders.” I smile, excited and curious at what’s coming next. “I've heard Tommy Foster is!” Adam says, his eyebrows raised. “No fucking way!” I cry. He gives me a wide-eyed nod. Tommy “The Tank” Foster? One-time 212 Mr Olympia Tommy? I can’t believe it. Even though I want it to be true. Would LOVE for it to be true that someone like Tommy Foster is gay or bi. The idea gives me a strange kind of hope. That maybe one day I’ll meet a Tommy Foster. “Anyone else?” I ask Adam. “Erm … do you know that guy, AJ Jones?” I have to resist the urge to laugh. I tell him yes and nod. “I’ve heard he is. He’s got a boyfriend, apparently.” I nod. AJ Jones, a fellow short-arsed pocket rocket who I one day might be competing with. Who’s not exactly unattractive. And who looks a bit like the bodybuilder sitting next to me. “What’s that smirk for?” Busted. “Nothing,” I say, shrugging (but smirking even more). “It’s just … you DO know you kinda look like him?” “Who?” “AJ Jones!” “Fuck off! He’s about four foot for a start. Ooops. No offence.” I laugh. “Nothing wrong being a short arse.” “Not if you look like you, there's not.” What the fuck? My heart skips a beat. I swallow and look back to the screen. “Ooops. Kind of fucked up this game.” Wow, The way Adam’s looking at me right now. Our bodies so close together. What would he do if I just moved my leg a few inches to the left? So our thighs were touching? Fuck. “One last game?” he asks. I nod and we focus our attention back on Adam’s TV. But I can’t concentrate. Because Adam Lloyd knows about me. He knows I like guys. Someone at Montgomery University knows I like lads. And he happens to like lads too. He also happens to be absurdly good looking, has these big ears that are kind of adorable and be the size of a fucking house. An hour or so later we decide to call it a night. “So … what do you think? Do it again next Saturday night?” Adam asks me as he switches the TV to the normal channels. Fuck. “Erm … yeah!” I say, trying to not smile so much. “So … I’ll text you. About next week,” Adam says, as he leads me to the door. He stops at his door and spins around. Fuck. He’s so huge. And so handsome. And he’s right fucking there. Bulging out of a tight white t-shirt. Giving me this look. “I feel like I wanna hug you.” Oh my God. His eyes fall to my right shoulder. Fucking do it, I think. “How do you normally say goodbye to Shaun, Eric and Ashley?” I furrow my eyebrows, but I’m smiling. “Erm … a fist bump, maybe?” Adam pulls a face and playfully rolls his eyes. Then he smirks and holds up a clenched fist. I feel a flutter of excitement as I hold up my own fist and gently bump Adam’s. He’s got this look on his face. A look I have NEVER seen on the faces of Shaun, Eric or Ash when we’ve fist bumped each other. Our fists are still together. Fingers touching. Knuckles pushed together. Okay - this is lasting WAY longer than it needs to. In fact, it kinda feels like time has fucking stopped. What would he do if I leant forward and kissed him right now? What would Adam Lloyd do? We finally part fists. Adam’s got this almost coy grin on his face. He tells me he’ll see me Monday for training and I head back to my Johnson House dorm room. All the time thinking about Adam Lloyd. That familiar mix of hope, excitement and pure fucking dread going through me. A feeling I haven’t felt since Harry the Bouncer last Christmas. And before that with Ryan North PT last summer. Oh God. Here the fuck I go again.
    18 points
  37. 11 I laid there for a few minutes, in a daze. My toes were still curling. My load was absolutely unreal, and in the throes of my orgasm I just laid there hypnotized for a second. I couldn't help but run my hands down my stomach, it was so firm! My arms, they felt so tight! My legs and ass so thick and defined! I was packing on muscle like crazy, and it made me horny again... So I cleaned myself up and got right back to stroking my cock, sprawled out on my king sized bed; and came again, sent over the top by the sensation of bouncing and rubbing my hardening pectoral muscles. I cleaned myself up again, and texted Spencer back after mulling his request over, I replied “Yeah, we can chill out! What time you want to head over?” He beat around the bush at first, “Oh idk just got out of work…I mean now is good.” I looked around, I definitely would have to get myself, and my dirty house ready—fast! I said back, “Come through, dude.” He sent me a thumbs up in return. “Give me twenty.” He followed up. I sprung into action and did the half ass cleaning that a bachelor can only do. I did not live up well to the stereotype of a gay guy with a spotless house. I couldn’t be bothered! I almost wished I had someone to do shit like that for me. A man can dream. I cobbled together the clothes lying around in my bathroom and put together the living room. I had done this all in the nude, making my way through the kitchen and doing some last-minute touches. I looked out of my front window and saw a set of headlights rapidly slow to a crawl. I immediately lurched toward my bedroom to gather some clothes. I tore open the closet door and…nothing. I mean not nothing, there was like, my suit coats and snap up formal shirts but this wasn’t the royal wedding we were talking about. And pants! Not one pair that wasn’t dirty or wrinkled or lost in the twilight zone of my laundry hamper. Knock! Knock! Knock! “Hold on just a sec!” I called out, feeling almost a mild sense of déjà vu. All I had clean to my name in terms of bottoms were in my shorts. My running shorts…with like a six inch inseam…which as you can imagine on my long 40 inch legs, did not cover that much of my thigh. They were also hot pink, and a little tight. I just looked at them and dead panned. “Jesus gonna look like I’m going to Pride tonight I guess…” Thankfully I was able to salvage the look with a blue T-Shirt that depicted the outline of my home state on it. I pulled it down quick, and noticed it was a bit snug. It also felt like it was riding high just a bit. “I have to stop using the high setting on my dryer.” I mumbled to myself and went to answer the door. “Hey man!” Spencer greeted as I opened the front door. I let him in, “How we doing tonight?” He chuckled, but there inlaid a certain palpable sense of pain. “I’m doing okay, I guess. Been better.” We sat down in the living room and I kicked on some background music as I asked, “Oh yeah? Penny for your thoughts?” He sat down his body almost melted into the sofa, “Just on that grind, dude. Shit’s rough.” “I feel you, I feel you. I mean, you’re doing okay financially?” I asked. He waved it off, “Yeah, no it’s good. I might be looking for another place soon because the apartment I have, it’s just—ugh,” He smiled, “Terrible part of Tyson. Looking to get into another line of work, maybe soon…as in immediately!” he laughed. I also laughed a bit, “I was gonna say man, the pizza delivery gig is an odd fit for you.” He shrugged, “All just temporary, right? Resume builder and all that noise.” I inquired, “Any places you looking into working for?” Spencer sat up a bit with some excitement, “Well, I’m kind of sick of this small-time shit but I might be working for Apollo Fitness here soon.” This was definitely a step up. Apollo Fitness was a huge chain of health clubs that had twenty-four-hour facilities, they were widespread across the Eastern US. “Hell yeah man!” I congratulated, “Definitely a place you can move up and get promotions at the corporate level.” Spencer’s eyes widened, “Tell me about it! My dad won’t get off my ass about that exact kind of pursuit.” I looked on. He continued, “It’s ridiculous, won’t leave me alone but won’t help me at any turn either.” He shook his head, “Either way, I’m thinking Apollo Fitness is gonna be a sure-thing, and Imma be making fifteen an hour soon. So that’s a start.” I piped up, “Well shit, let me know when you get the job maybe we can get a workout in!” Spencer really roused to life at that remark! “Yes!” He said, “Please and thank you! I’ve been meaning to get my shit together, like physically. My dad says a big man bills big respect. It’s always something I’ve always really wanted to do…” “Yeah?” I gazed at him, he looked down with just a hint of timidness. “…Yeah, and you know bro, I mean you’re in great shape yourself so I figured you might be able to show me some wisdom!” And he nervously chuckled. I put my hand behind my head, I blushed a bit, “Oh stop! You think I’m big, wait till you see Ben!” Spencer asked, “How is Ben, I take it he’s been lifting too? I struck out a sudden guffaw that startled Spencer a tad, “Uh, yeah!” I returned, “The dude has really put the work in! When is the last time you guys saw each other? I find it so cool you know him too!” Spencer thought for a second, “Gotta say not long after High School ended, man. It’s been a few years for sure. I graduated before him too, so it’s really been a second.” I reiterated, “Yeah, well I don’t know what he was like back then, but I think it’s safe to call our boy Ben a bit of late bloomer, because he has really taken off!” Spencer was intrigued at my fawning, “Really? Like you’re not joking or anything? Geez, well I’ll have to see him for myself.” I sat back for a second and then immediately snapped my fingers, “I can hit him up! I’m sure he can come by, that is if you want him to?” Spencer’s eyes sparked to life, “Sure! Why not? Make it a big ol’ reunion! We’ll see if he really is as big as you say he is.” I smiled deviously, I called Ben on the phone, and it wasn’t more than three minutes before he was excitedly on his way. Spencer was delighted! “Well, I’m gonna whip up something to snack on I guess, you hungry?” I offered. Spencer spoke up, “Famished actually, I didn’t eat lunch or dinner today…too busy.” Despite the fact that I had already made dinner I resolved to make some more. “Hope you like cheap fried steak.” I mentioned. “Oh no dude,” Spencer tried being humble, “That’s too much.” I would not allow it, “Please, I literally have almost no room in my fridge. I bought way too much food.” Spencer mentioned, “Nice problem to have.” I started cooking up the food post haste. My original meal hadn’t really done the trick in satiating my appetite. And I basically knew it was predestinate that Ben would be game to chow down. So, I figured why not return the favor. “Smells good!” Spencer complimented. “Yo dude, can I use your bathroom?” I put back, “Go ahead, foods almost ready, wash yourself up!” I joked. Spencer had gone into the bathroom almost at the same time Ben had rolled up to my house. Ben wasted no time in getting out of his car and coming up to my front door. He knocked a couple times but let himself in before I could answer the door. “Hey what’s up!” He almost cheered. He brought me in for a hug as he stepped up and into the doorway. Good god, each time we saw each other I swear his forehead would creep that much higher! He thrust my body into his with his powerful arms and I met his torso, I noticed his clavicle was just a teensy bit higher than my own. “Ben!” I cried out ala the show Cheers, masquerading my own surprise which grew at the same rate Ben had “Glad you could make it!” “Bro I couldn’t miss out the opportunity once you told me, where is he? Spencer where you at!” Ben called out into the house. The sound of the bathroom sink turning off could be heard and my bathroom door started to open, “Damn man!” Spencer said before he made it out into the hall, “Your voice is deeper than I remember!” Ben looked pleased at the comment, “Huh, weird!” he said as Spencer came out into the living room, having the chance to see Ben for the first time in over three years. “Holy shit!” Spencer yelped, “Ben! You’re friggin’ huge!” Ben accosted him with the intent to bring him in for a bro-hug like we had just shared. Spencer almost seemed to recoil with intimidation, and he wasn’t a small guy himself, he was 6’2” and here he was visibly cowering in the slightest way before his old high school friend. “Bring it in!” Ben invited and just as with me, brought it in with Spencer in a strongarmed and embracing way. Spencer tottered back and almost did not know what to say, “Ben, where did all this come from! Matt!” He chirped at me, “You didn’t tell me he had gotten taller!” Ben had a beaming smile, “Just one helluva growth spirt, I guess!” “Psh,” Spencer returned, “Uh, no doubt! I didn’t know it was possible that you could get this tall in your twenties…Matt you were right!” He smiled, “I guess he is a little bit of a late bloomer.” Ben took in the flattery happily, showing off a double bicep pose that caused his sleeves to ride up and the hem pulling up to reveal the contours of his lower rungs of abs. Spencer just gawked at him wide eyed, “Oh my god! Ben you look amazing! I can’t believe this…You’re not on…steroids are you?” Ben loved that he could answer with a fair degree of honesty, “Nope! Just really dedicated lifting and diet I guess!” he winked. “Been really trying to get to my goals and I think my work is paying off nicely.” And he reflexively flexed his pecs which visibly rustled underneath his shirt. Spencer reasoned, “No I guess you’re right, because don’t steroids stop you from growing?” Ben playing coy said, “Wouldn’t know, I’m not on them!” and he chuckled. Spencer heaped a little more praise on his old friend, “Well you look swole as fuck bro! C’mon, rip of that shirt, don’t be shy!” Ben was more than happy to oblige, he was really loving this praise. Ben crossed his arms and brought the shirt up slowly, peeling it off his torso. Spencer audibly gasped, and not in a way that would be considered the least bit patronizing. He literally gasped. “Ben!” He cheered, “You’re a fucking beast! You’re the buffest dude I have ever seen come out of Tyson High School! Maybe this whole town!” Ben treated his buddy Spencer to some flexes, showing off his arms again, and his abs which Spencer remarked looked “Hard as steel, when did you get those?! Dude I wanna look like you, holy shit!” Ben showed up his massive horseshoe triceps that really underscored just how strong and massive his arms were becoming. “Thanks man! That means a whole lot coming from you! You know I always looked up to you!” This caught our friend by surprise. Now Spencer, he had to sit down for some reason and had decided to fold his legs. I had realized that the steaks were definitely being overcooked for this lot of young men, and hurried back to the kitchen, where I left Ben and Spencer to catch up. “You looked up to me?” He almost stammered over his words. “You, Ben Cedar?” There was no hint of doubt in his voice, Ben assured Spencer, “Oh yeah! Dude, I always looked up to you. You were always so talented in gym class and during weight training you weren’t afraid to go big or go home! And low key, you always looked really aesthetic for your age and I wanted to be like you!” Spencer sighed, “Wow!” He was flattered if not a little disappointed, like me Spencer’s body had seen better days before reunited with Ben. “That was then, I think you certainly outshine me a bit now dude!” “Hahaha!” Ben laughed in a baritone which again Spencer remarked had deepened significantly since they last spoke. Ben sat down in the armchair which had an audible groan when he set his full weight on it. He then proceeded to catch up and get famously with Spencer, trying to work around the obvious awe and intimidation his friend had for him and truly engage him in meaningful conversation I was whipping up a couple of sides as Ben became familiar with Spencer’s employment situation, and relationship with his father. In the ten minutes or so that I was gone Ben had been totally filled in on what I had been, plus more it seemed. I walked in with three plates of steak, mixed vegetables covered in a layer of cheese and some canned fruit for all of us. I almost felt as if I intruded on the conversation. I heard Ben lead in with, “…So you just got like your bed and that’s it, like no furniture at all, like you couldn’t take anything from your room with you?” Spencer, sounding ever so slightly distraught replied, “No man. I mean I got like, a couple chairs and tv trays but I don’t have like a TV…I just mainly watch shit on my phone…” I returned to the kitchen to get silverware, clearly the two were engrossed in the heavy details of Spencer’s life. “What drinks you want?” I broke in, not trying to be rude. “Milk!” Ben shot back happily. Spencer ogled Ben a little strangely, “Milk?” he said with some incredulity. Ben laughed, “I love milk! Has tons of protein to fuel your muscles!” Spencer nodded, “I’ll have a glass too!” he called back to me. Thank God, I needed to get rid of some of the stuff. Even three gallons seemed a little excessive…at the time. I sat down to dine as Ben ended the topic, they were discussing with the kind invite of, “Well hey Spencer, if you ever need a place to crash for a while, I got some space I’d be willing to rent at my place.” Spencer, who had been kind of sitting slouched over with some noticeable self-pity straightened up and looked at his friend, “Yeah?” he said, “Dude, that means a lot.” “Really, though.” Ben insisted, “If it’s something you think might work out for you let me know.” Spencer brought himself together again with a smile, as he thanked me for his generous plate of food. “Speaking of working out,” Spencer said, referring to Ben’s last comment, “Y’all want to hit the gym some time soon, especially if I get this gig at Apollo?” Ben sat forward excitedly, “You’re gonna work at Apollo? That place is fucking awesome! Bro you might just see me there all the time then!” Spencer tampered the expectation a bit, “I don’t have the job just yet, but if I do, sounds like I got something to look forward to.” I chimed in, “And even then, we be lifting at Ben’s place too, you can join in if you like…if that’s cool with you, Ben?” Ben nodded and winked at us, “Sounds fucking awesome! Put my squat rack to good use!” Spencer through his bite of food said, “Wait you have a home gym?” he wiped his face, “Shit, I’m sold!”
    18 points
  38. Part 5 – The Wedding and the Honeymoon Chapter 2 I took the pretzels away from Jason and joined him on the couch. “Is this really such a big deal?” I asked. “Big deal? Big deal!” Jason was reaching a critical meltdown. I had to find an in to calm him down. “Gossip rags have lied about you before. They said that your singing on the TV show was dubbed, remember?” “That’s me,” Jason said, snatching back his bag of pretzels. “This is us. They know better. My private life is off limits.” He grabbed a handful of pretzels while saying, “You’re off limits.” “This might have no traction,” I said, still trying to calm him down. He reached under the couch and pulled out five more magazines, all saying about the same thing. “This one,” he said, throwing the thickest one at me, hitting me squarely in the chest, “has details of who will be coming to our 250-guest all-star wedding. I haven’t met half the people on their list.” He threw another magazine at my chest—the third one in five minutes. “This one claims to have your entire life story in it. Did you know that you’re a descendant of Levi Strauss?” “Really?” I opened the third magazine. “I mean, he’s Bavarian; Uhler’s a Bavarian last name. They’ve completely made it up, but they have one shred of coincidence to hang it on.” “You’re not Bavarian!” Jason shouted. “I know. My family’s super Welsh. Like, all-my-grandparents-live-in-Wales Welsh.” I poured on the charm, trying to cheer him up. “It’s even worse online. The celebrity gossip blogs have gone off the rails,” Jason said. “They’re mostly anonymous and don’t have to worry about libel lawsuits, so they can say whatever the fudge they want.” Jason almost swore. He was even angrier than I thought. Still trying to cheer him up, I said, “Do they think I’m Chinese?” Jason swatted the magazine out of my hand. “Why isn’t this bothering you?” “If they think I’m Bavarian, they don’t even know my real name.” “If they’re researching you at all, they’ll figure it out eventually. I feel so violated. Why don’t you?” I took both of Jason’s hands in mine and looked him softly in the eyes. “You’re right. I should be taking this more seriously.” I closed his hands in mine tighter. “I’m sorry. I’m still a little goofy from the party.” “That’s better,” Jason said. He took his hands back, pat my forehead, and then finally tossed the pretzels aside. “What did Margaret say about this?” I asked. “Margaret’s gone AWOL!” Wrong question. Jason was switching gears from stressed to angry with only the slightest stop in calm and affable. “She isn’t returning my calls. Lacey says she’s been in a meeting with finance since noon. That’s Lacey-code for ‘I don’t know where Margaret is.’” I’d almost had him calm. I tried to backtrack. “Should I try calling her? Maybe she’d answer my call.” “Go for it,” Jason said, storming out of the room. “Where are you going?” I asked, trying to follow him and dial Margaret at the same time. “To my treadmill. I’m angry, and I want to work off all the doughnuts.” “Is it a smart idea to do an intense workout on a full stomach?” “Probably not,” Jason growled, climbing up the stairs to his little exercise chamber in a hurry. I let him be. It was better to let him work out the anger than confront him further. Margaret ignored my first three phone calls. I waited twenty minutes and called again. This time, she answered. She didn’t even say hello. Instead, she said, “I know, Miles. I know. I know.” She paused slightly, and then repeated, “I know.” “What the hell, Margaret? Jason really needs you, and you vanished.” “I know. I know. I didn’t want to call back until I had some answers.” “I take it that means you have some now?” “Maybe. I hope so. Is Jason there with you?” “He’s on his treadmill. He has been for almost half an hour. He’s trying to work of the stress eating he did.” “That’s no good. Ribs?” “Doughnuts and pretzels.” “Both? Oh, he must have been driving himself crazy, the poor dear. Take me to him. We’ll do this on speaker phone.” I walked up the stairs and knocked on the door to his workout cell. I could hear the whir of the machine and his thundering footsteps. “Enter at your own risk,” he snarled. “I have Margaret on the phone.” He stopped running, and the machine powered down. He came out of the room, sweat pouring from his body, his chest heaving as he caught his breath, and grabbed my phone from me. “About time, Margaret. What in Hades do I pay you for?” “To solve problems like this one.” Jason marched into our bedroom, and I followed behind him. He crashed on the bed, and I sat next to him. “How did this even happen? Aren’t you supposed to stop stories like this?” “It didn’t come through you, Jason. If it had come through you, I would’ve found out about it in time to nip it.” “What does that mean?” Jason asked. “It came through Miles.” That made my heart stop. “If you’re trying to throw me under the bus to save yourself,” I started, but Margaret cut me off. “No one says you did anything wrong, darling. But, is it true or is it not that you recently had a tuxedo custom made?” “Yes.” “Shafe made him his best man,” Jason explained. “Who cares that he had a tux made?” “The tailor recognized you from the infamous red carpet kiss,” Margaret explained. “Apparently, he’s a huge Jason Prentiss fan. He assumed that the two of you were finally getting married.” “If he’s such a big fan of mine, he should’ve kept his mouth shut.” “He did,” Margaret said. “His husband, however, immediately sold the story to a low-rent tabloid that started tailing Miles.” “Someone was following me?” “Yes. They saw you make reservations for 20 at a steak house and rent out a strip club. Both establishments confirmed it was for a bachelor party.” “It was a straight strip club!” I said, trying to defend myself. “Why would I throw my bachelor party at a place with naked women?” “People know next to nothing about you,” Margaret explained. “A few think that you did it ironically because you’re a hip gay writer. Most of the magazines assumed you’re bi and were saying goodbye to women.” “That’s why they think he’s bi?” Jason said. “They think I’m bi?” I asked. Jason snorted derisively. “If you’d kept reading past Levi Strauss, you’d see everything that had to say about you. They call you ‘old school macho,’ ‘traditionally masculine,’ ‘practically straight,’ and conclude by saying, ‘you’d never know he’s bi.’ They imply that if you weren’t the most masc in the land, you wouldn’t be worthy of my hand.” “That’s bullshit,” I spat. “We’re getting off track, gentlemen,” Margaret interjected. “Once one parasite had the story, it spread everywhere. It was online and in the stands before I knew what happened.” “Can’t we just deny it?” I asked. “Release a statement saying that we’re not getting married? Straight and to the point. That’d kill the story, right?” “It would never work,” Jason and Margaret said at the same time. Margaret added, “A flat-out denial from a celebrity would just prolong the whole thing.” “So, what do we do?” Jason asked. He sounded worried. Margaret’s tone was reassuring. “The simplest thing would be to get married.” “Marry Miles to make a gossip story go away? That’s a terrible reason to get married,” Jason scoffed. “I’ve heard of worse,” Margaret responded. “Have a small, intimate wedding. Leak a photo of you at the altar. File the marriage certificate at the local courthouse. Story goes away. Right now, all that the viewers at home are getting is the coming attractions. You get married, they know how the movie ends.” “What are my other options?” Jason asked. “You’re not even going to consider getting married?” Margaret was practically dumbfounded. Jason sighed. “We did. A few weeks ago.” “But, two years ago, you had those rings made,” Margaret said. “Oh, fuck! The rings!” I said. “They’re going to find out about the rings.” “Forget the rings,” Margaret said. “One crisis at a time.” “I had the rings made in case Miles wanted to get married. If one of us wanted to get married, we’d be married by now. Neither of us does, so I’m not going to get married just to make some second-rate journalists stop lying.” After a pause, Jason repeated, “What are my other options?” “You could fake a wedding,” Margaret said, but her tone was no longer reassuring. She clearly thought we’d have no objections to getting married. “But if there’s no concrete evidence, like a marriage certificate, all it would do is make the wolves more bloodthirsty. How do you feel about leaking a forged marriage certificate?” Jason was having none of that. “I’m opposed to a wedding that’s fake but legal. Why would I want a wedding that’s fake but fake?” “I’m running out of options here, Jason.” “That means you’re not entirely out yet, Margaret.” Margaret sighed deeply. “Well, a charm offensive never hurts. Do some interviews where you explain that the wedding is for a close personal friend. Maybe Mr. Shafer would even oblige us with an interview or two? Meanwhile, we release some corrections about Miles Uhler. Give some personal details, ones you two are comfortable releasing, so it doesn’t come across as a flat-out denial. We can use those publicity photos I took two years ago before Miles doubled in size. We’d spend a day or two reminding the audience why they love Jason Prentiss.” “Are there other options?” Jason asked. “Well, there is one more, but you’re going to absolutely hate it.” “I have to hear it,” Jason said. “Give the movie a different ending.” “What does that mean?” I asked. “Have a big, public break up.” “Fuck no,” I spat. Margaret continued. “Live apart for a year. Then, start dating in secret, hoping the press never catch wise.” “Charm offensive it is!” Jason said without even pausing to think. “I’ll call Shafe,” I chimed in. “I’m sure he’ll do some interviews.” The next morning, Jason did every interview show that would have him. He went on TV, online, radio, magazine—nineteen interviews in one morning. And he dazzled in each one with a high gloss of charisma and movie star polish. You’d have to be as intimate with him as I am to see when his smile was fake. He made it clear that, yes, he and I were still together, and, no, we had no plans on getting married but we had discussed it, and, no, his private life was still something he wouldn’t share with the media. Shafe did a few interviews too. He was more than happy to, since not many runners-up at Olympia get a lot of media coverage. He even stuck to the script. He called me Miles, said he’d known me forever, and that the bachelor party was his, showing a few pictures of the party and Marietta as evidence. Margaret released a press statement correcting some of the more egregious lies about me, somehow without providing my legal name. The charm offensive stopped the tabloids from printing anything new, but the tabloids had only been one head of the Hydra. Even with the most powerful head cut off, the beast was far from slain. The very next morning (the day after the charm offensive), I got a phone call from Jonah. “Hey, buddy,” I said. “I just woke up. What’s the good word?” “Cole and I are driving down to see you and Jason,” he answered. “Great. Are the kids with you?” “Fuck no. They’re with Cole’s parents. God, I miss swearing. Fuck shit fuck. Tonight, we’re taking the two of you out to dinner. Our treat. No buts.” “Okay. Sure. If you insist. Why?” “Why? What do you mean why?” Jonah sounded exasperated. “It means ‘for what reason.’ For what reason do you insist on buying us dinner?” “Why didn’t you tell me you were bi?” “For crying out loud,” I said. “Who the fuck better than me to talk to? You’re bi. I’m bi. You’re marrying a dude. I married a dude. We have so much to talk about.” I heard some murmuring in the background. “Cole wants to know if Tommy can be the ring bearer.” “I’m not bi, Jonah. If I were bi, I would’ve told you by now. And I’m not getting married. The magazines got it wrong.” With a laugh in his voice, Jonah said, “But, can Tommy still be the ring bearer?” I laughed too. “Now then, why aren’t you getting married?” I did not want to have this conversation. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on the road?” Dismissively, Jonah said, “Cole’s driving.” I heard a horn honk lightly and quickly in the background. “Tell Cole I say hi too.” “Gerry heard the beeps and says hi,” Jonah said to his husband. “Now, why aren’t you getting married? Is it Jason? Is he bad in bed?” “What? No. Why would I stay with him if he’s bad in bed?” To Cole, Jonah said, “Hear that, babe? Jason’s a lousy fuck. Lays there like a corpse. You can pick someone else for your hall pass.” I guess Jonah had never warmed to his husband’s celebrity crush on my boyfriend. “Put me on speaker,” I said. Jonah obliged. “Cole, Jason will never have sex with you. He thinks you’re a great guy, but he’d never cheat on me.” Cole, with a note of disdain in his voice, said, “I’m down for a threesome.” Then, I swear I heard the car swerve as Cole said, “Ow!” Jonah took me off speaker and said, “I’ll call you back when we’re closer to your house.” While I’d been on the phone, Jason had woken up. He was sitting in bed next to me, so I told him, “Jonah and Cole are coming to visit tonight.” “Excellent. I needed some good news,” Jason said. “They’re taking us to dinner to celebrate our engagement.” Jason flopped back down into bed. “I corrected them, don’t worry.” “Good.” “And Cole only hit on you a little.” “Still? He’s still hitting on me? We’ve met a dozen times. I can’t have celebrity mystique if I’ve helped your sons to the potty or if you’ve seen me sneeze while drinking red wine.” “What can I say? He thinks you’re the sexiest man alive. Because you are.” “Shut up,” Jason said, but I saw a blush come to his face as he buried it under a blanket. “Will I still make you blush when we’re married?” I asked. He hit me with a pillow.
    18 points
  39. Ten “Lads - did you see the competitor list for the McCarthy that got posted earlier?” Ashley says to me and Mafra as we’re walking through Hanson Hall. We’re on our way to a final meeting with Walker, Hancox, Johnny Hoxton and the third year lads before the trip next week. Adam Lloyd will be there too. Even though he’s not actually coming with us. I can’t believe he’s not coming with us. The more time that passes, the shittier that piece of knowledge feels. I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been thinking about last Saturday night a lot. Being with Adam Lloyd in his dorm room. Sitting next to him on his little two seater sofa (similar to the one I’ll have in my single room next year if Shaun carries on acting like a fucking dick). Adam telling me he’s heard rumours that Tommy Foster is gay. That he’s like me. That he’s like the both of us. Me and Adam Lloyd. Jug-eared Adam Lloyd and his bulging mass and humongous sized arse. Who said he wanted to hug me. And then held his fist up to mine for much longer than was necessary. Ash gets his phone out and starts reeling off the names of the IFBB pros confirmed to be competing next week. I already knew about Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson, Chris Pratt’s bodybuilding twin, possible future Mr Watkins and all round freak Mitchell “The Machine” Murray and (of course) the legend Felix King. But there are a few new names on the list too, including two ex-Montgomery University students. Nathan Marrett is one of them. When Ash says his name he says, “He used to train at my gym back home!” I look at Mafra and we exchange smirks. Because I’ve lost count of how many times Ash has said those words. But yeah - Nathan’s fucking incredible. Crazy size. Gorgeous aesthetics, Balloon-like tits. Nothing falls short. I think he only graduated about three years ago and he’s now placing high in pro shows. I’ve heard he wasn’t even the best in his year, which just goes to show that no one can definitely predict who’ll do well after graduation. Though I think we can rule out Henderson being the Mr O in a few years time. The other Montgomery graduate competing at the McCarthy is Rick “The Beef” Tucker. He’s one of uni’s most well known graduates from recent years. He studied here about six years ago. Last year he cracked the top ten at the Mr Olympia. He’s like a proper working class lad. A bald head. Thick Geordie accent. He’s a proper fucking monster. I always remember Ryan North telling me about how he met him that once. And now I’m suddenly wondering whether Ryan knows about the McCarthy. And how impressed he’d be. Surely my dad must have told him. “Can you imagine the pump room shots we’ll be able to get for Instagram?” Ash says. He’s looking extra good lately. (I mean - he always looks fucking good.) His face is leaner than usual. I’m not sure what’s going on under the tracksuit. I guess I’ll see next weekend. I feel like I missed a trick by agreeing to have the single room in Chicago. Ash and Mafra are roommates anyway, so it made sense for them to share. “Do you think we’ll be able to talk to them backstage, though?” Mafra reasons. He has a good point. “I am!” Ash cries. “Who’s gonna stop us?” I can’t help smiling at that. I can just imagine Ashley strutting up to mass monster Felix King and confidently asking for a selfie. I feel like Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman would do the exact same thing. “Have you guys searched for Ozzie on Instagram? His profile is private?” Ash laughs. “Where the fuck did that come from?” I shrug and pull a face. It wasn’t that much of a detour from what we were talking about, was it? “Oh yeah. I saw that,” Mafra replies. “Why the fuck would you have a private Instagram profile?” Ash says. “Didn’t you ask him about it?” “No!” I scoff. “I don’t talk to him if I can help it.” Ash laughs in response. “The lads reckon he’s got an awesome physique though!” The lads? What the hell? I’m tempted to ask which lads he’s talking about, but I already know the answer to that. How did Ash get so friendly with those third years? “I’ve been meaning to ask you, D. Is something going on with Shaun?” Mafra asks. It takes all of my will not to groan. Shaun STILL hasn’t spoken to me since last Thursday. A whole fucking week of giving me the silent treatment. It’s fucking pathetic. I keep expecting him to crack. But so far he hasn’t. And I’m DEFINITELY not being the one to talk to him first. Why the fuck should I? “He was in a RIGHT mood yesterday!” Ash says. “And he was being funny in Posing Practice on Monday.” I swallow hard. “He’s pissed off about the McCarthy.” I feel a weird pinch in my chest. Like I’m betraying Shaun or something. I don’t tell the lads that he’s also pissed off because he found out I went to a pub in Little Hatton with Adam the other week. Not that they’d take his side. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” Ash says. “Should be a better bodybuilder then!” Wow. That’s fucking harsh! I look over at Mafra. He gives me a wide-eyed look and smirks at me. He’s clearly thinking the same thing I am. “All right, boys?” Johnny Hoxton says to us as we walk into the classroom. The first thing I notice is Adam Lloyd in his bright red Montgomery University hoodie. But he’s not sitting with the other teachers. He’s sitting with Keiran and Connell, and the three of them are hunched over Adam’s iPad and deep in concentration. He’s so engrossed that he doesn’t even look up at us. I’m actually strangely sort of proud of how I’ve been handling the whole Adam situation since Saturday. I can’t lie. I’ve definitely been having certain thoughts. About Adam. And about what could potentially happen. But I definitely haven’t been, like, obsessing over him or anything. There’s no texting like there was with Harry the Bouncer. And I haven’t checked his Instagram profile once. Maybe it’s because I have all the McCarthy Classic stuff to distract me. Plus the whole Shaun drama. Or maybe I’m just growing the fuck up? “Lads - we’re just waiting for Seth!” Walker says as the three of us sit in a row. Hancox shakes his head to himself. Ha! Love it. And then in he fucking walks. Strolling in like he doesn’t give a shit about anyone or anything. Like he always does. He’s got a cap on backwards which makes him look like an even bigger twat than he normally does. He’s covered up his black tracksuit. No crazy shoulders or thick biceps today then. He’s coming right towards us. Right towards ME. And then - he’s not ... “All right, lads!” Yep. Seth “Ozzie” Osman has fucking SAT down next to me. So he clearly wasn’t too bothered about all that stuff I said to him in the changing rooms last week. About his posing being annoying and embarrassing. I look at Ash, who’s got this amused smirk on his face. “All right, mate?” Ash says, cheerfully. “Aye!” Then he looks at me. This fucking sly smirk on that annoyingly cute bad boy face. “All right, Deano?” Erm … FUCK OFF! “The third years are sitting over there,” I say, dryly. He lets out this almost child-like chuckle. “Good one, Little Dude!” Little Dude. UGH. I HATE that nickname. I don’t respond. I just lazily roll my eyes at him and turn my attention back to the teachers. I can see Ozzie getting his phone out from the corner of my eye. And then … he starts fucking SINGING. Not loudly. Just to himself. It’s that “D.I.S.C.O” song. But he’s changed the fucking letters. “D.E.A.N.O … D.E.A.N.O.” He’s nodding his head a little as he sings it, all the time looking down into his phone. I hear Ash let out a little laugh. I glare at Ozzie. He doesn’t look up. He carries on looking into his phone. But he’s got this little fucking SMIRK on his face ARGH. He’s just … so fucking annoying. I’m not gonna rise to it. I look straight ahead, chewing the inside of my mouth so no one in this room can accuse me of smiling because a very small part of me found what Ozzie just did a TINY bit funny. “Okay, lads. Shall we make a start?” Hoxton calls out, which prompts Adam to stand up and go and sit in the seat next to Walker. My heart jumps when he looks over in this direction. I’m expecting one of those slightly shy smiles he sometimes does. Or even a little nod. My chest tightens when I see his expression though. I don’t get a smile. Or a nod. And he looks … weird. Am I imagining that? As Johnny continues to talk, I glance over at Adam. He definitely doesn’t look as relaxed as he normally does. Maybe something’s happened. Or maybe he’s in a bit of a shitty mood because he’s not getting to come with us to the McCarthy with the rest of us next week. Johnny goes over some details for the trip. A minibus is coming to pick us up from campus on Thursday morning to take us to the airport in Glasgow. Then it’s a ten hour flight to Chicago. On Friday there’s a big expo. Then there’s the press conference where we’ll get to meet the pros afterwards. The pro fucking IFBB fucking bodybuilders. Including Felix King and Mitchell “The Machine” Murray. Then Saturday’s the big day. Apparently, our spot is sandwiched in between the classic physique class and the men’s bodybuilding finals so they’ll definitely be competitors backstage with us. I don’t know what I’m more excited about. Being on stage posing at one of the world’s biggest bodybuilding shows where the legend Brad McCarthy himself will be watching or being in the same space as the likes of Nathan Marrett and Ryan “The Beef” Tucker as they pump up backstage in their posing trunks. Every now and then my eyes veer back to Adam Lloyd. He definitely doesn’t seem his usual relaxed self. He’s not looking over either. At any point. My stomach suddenly flips. Is that because of me? Is something going on? No, Deano. DON’T fucking do this. He was FINE with me on Wednesday when we were training. And on Monday. Not everything is about fucking me. I’ll see him tomorrow for training like I always do on Saturday. And I’m (maybe/hopefully) going round to his again on Saturday night for more gaming. Even though he hasn’t really mentioned it since last Saturday. Maybe this time he actually WILL hug me goodbye? And also maybe tell me what was bothering him today. As something clearly is. He doesn’t even look over when Johnny wraps things up. He just turns to his iPad again, Only looking up to talk to Walker. It’s like I’m not even here. Last Saturday he was confiding in me about being gay and telling me he wanted to hug me. And now he’s acting like I’m not even in the room. ARGH. Stop this. Just. Fucking. Stop. It’s a miracle I don’t think about the whole thing for the rest of the day and night. If I wasn’t seeing him tomorrow, I might be. I think about texting Adam. But I don’t. I think about checking his Instagram. But I don’t do that either. See? Growing up. Not being the Deano I was with Woody. Or Harry the Bouncer. Or Ryan North PT. But when I walk into the gym on Saturday afternoon expecting to be greeted by a smiling Adam Lloyd and his massive ears as he bursts out of one of his usual gym vests or t-shirts, my heart fucking drops. And I can’t help feeling a sharp panic. Because Adam Lloyd isn’t there. It’s just Dave Walker. “No Adam?” I ask Walker. My chest tightening. And my voice sounding WAY more nervous than it should. “Not today, mate,” he says, casually, Fuck. What the fuck? Adam never misses our training sessions on Saturdays. Maybe it’s nothing. Or maybe something’s happened. Something I don’t know anything about. Something that’s nothing to do with me. Because maybe the whole world doesn’t actually revolve around me and not every guy I meet is going to fuck me over. And yet - I just can’t shake this feeling that whatever might be happening with Adam Lloyd right now and the reason he hasn’t turned up to today’s training session, or why he barely looked me in the eye yesterday IS about me. And when it gets to six o’clock, and I haven’t had a text from Adam asking me about tonight, that feeling only intensifies. He DID say he’d text. On the other hand, that was a week ago. Maybe he’s just forgotten? Or maybe I can put myself out of my own misery and just be the one to text HIM. So I do. We still gaming tonight? Simple. To the point. No mention of his absence from my training today. No hints or clues that I’m worrying that something’s wrong. That something’s changed. That I’m wondering whether he’s about to spend the next week ignoring and avoiding me because he’s back with his girlfriend who he’s just found out is pregnant. Which I know is ridiculous. Because Adam’s not Ryan North. Adam’s a nice guy. He’s SO nice. Nice to me. Nice to everyone. (Does it even make sense that I get on with this guy?) And above that - nothing has ACTUALLY happened between us. Adam Lloyd is not about to screw me over. Because there’s nothing there TO screw over. And yet. Half an hour has passed and he hasn’t replied to my text. Adam Lloyd isn’t texting me back. God. I hate this. I REALLY fucking hate this. “Not swanning off out tonight?” What the - I almost fucking fall off my bed. Because, for the first time in over a week, Shaun has actually spoken to me. I look over to find his head buried in his laptop. He hasn’t even bothered to look up. “Are you talking to me?” I say, flatly. He screws his face up. “Who else?” I roll my eyes and go back to my phone (with no text messages coming through). When I don’t say anything, Shaun loudly scoffs. I spend the rest of the night in a shitty fucking mood. Watching something on my laptop with my headphones in and my back to my ridiculous roommate. Trying (and failing) not to wonder what the hell I’ve done to make Adam Lloyd, aka - the guy I’ve spent the past week wondering whether something could actually happen with, not want to see or talk to me. And then. On Sunday morning. I come out of the shower to find a text message waiting for me on my phone. Sorry, Deano. Got caught up with something last night. Huh. Okay - on one hand, I’m relieved. But on the other hand, I dunno. It feels like a bit of a shitty text. With a shitty excuse. Ugh. Whatever. Adam’s text me back. That’s that. I’m sick of worrying about a guy with whom nothing has actually happened. A guy I should be training with tomorrow. And for the rest of the term. Even if Adam Lloyd HAS been avoiding or ignoring me for some unknown fucking reason, he certainly can’t do it for long. And sure enough, the next afternoon, when I’m walking into my usual Monday training session, there he is. Like always. Standing next to Dave Walker and bulging out of a tight white t-shirt. Looking like an absolute tank. Like always. I feel a tight knot in my chest as I approach them. Fuck. It seems to tighten further when Adam looks at me. What is that expression? He looks uncomfortable. Even a little … nervous. And now I know that it wasn’t all in my head. That there IS something going on. “All right, mate!” Walker says to me. I nod and cautiously look at Adam. He says all right. But that expression. What the fuck is going on? He seems less nervous as the training goes on. But there’s definitely something there. A sort of unspoken awkwardness. Everything just feels so strange. I wonder if I’ll have time to talk to him afterwards, but he just says bye and leaves with Walker. And now I’m left wondering what the fuck I’ve done. I came out to this guy just over a week ago. I confided in him. Told him something I rarely tell anyone. He wanted to fucking HUG ME. And now he’s treating me like he barely knows me. It’s only when I wake up early the next morning, that it hits me. Like a fucking revelation. Suddenly - I know EXACTLY what’s going on. He knows. Adam Lloyd knows. I feel panicked. My hands feel clammy. Everything suddenly feels shit. And then anger rises in my chest. Because I have a pretty fucking good idea how this has happened. And exactly who is behind it. A few hours later, I’m sitting at the back of my Business and Brand Management lecture with Hancox, looking at the back of that very person’s head. When the lesson’s over, my stomach sharply twists. I know what I need to do. I tell Mafra I need to ask Hancox something. He nods at me with a suspicious look on his face. Like he knows something’s up. But he leaves anyway. As if by luck, the guy I’m about to approach is stalling. Standing at his desk messing with his phone while most other people are filing out. My stomach clenches as I approach him. “Woody …,” He spins around. Looking confused. And surprised. But then something flickers in his expression. Like he knows why I’m here. “All right?” he says, looking slightly cautious. I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. “Yeah. You?” I look over at Hancox. He’s just glaring at us. Looking a bit confused. I’m not sure if it’s a look that says, “Why the fuck are YOU two talking to each other?” or “What the fuck are you still doing in my classroom?” Maybe it’s a mixture of the two. Woody seems to notice too. He picks up his backpack and the two of us leave. This isn’t exactly a conversation I want Hancox overhearing anyway. “So what’s up, Deano?” He stops and turns to me. He knows EXACTLY what’s up. I notice his hand grip the handle of his backpack tighter. My chest is tight. Looking at his face, I suddenly feel pissed off. “Does Adam know?” I say, flatly. He gives me this look. Tense. Wary. He doesn’t even need to reply. Because I already know the answer. His face is telling me everything. He does a little nod. My chest tightens. I feel a surge of anger. “I didn’t tell him,” he says, with an eyebrow arched. “If that’s what you’re thinking!” He’s trying to be confident, but I can tell he’s a bit nervous. I fold my arms across my chest. “How did he find out then?” I ask, wanting to believe him, but finding it a little hard. “I think Walker said something to him about you getting suspended.” My stomach twists. Ugh. Fucking Walker. “Then he just asked me. If you were the one who made the Facebook post. I guess he must have put two and two together.” I feel momentarily defeated. But something else takes over. I narrow my eyes at him. “And I bet you just loved telling me that!” Woody’s face screws up in confusion. Then he scoffs. “Yeah, Deano! Cause me and Luke - we’ve just been sitting in our dorm room for the past year plotting our revenge!” Then he fucking rolls his eyes. “Grow up, Deano! The whole world doesn’t revolve around YOU.” Ugh. I can't believe I thought me and Sebastian Wood could ever be friends. Who the fuck was I kidding? “You could have just lied,” I say. As soon as I say it I know it’s ridiculous. “Why?” Woody scoffs, with his face screwed up. Then his face turns stony. “You did it, Deano,” he says flatly. I suddenly feel deflated. Like the wind suddenly got knocked out of me. Sebastian Wood has never completely forgiven me for what I did. I know that now. And now, a thing I did a year ago (a STUPID thing) has come back to bite me in the arse. Woody’s just glaring at me. Still as annoyingly good looking as ever. Like he probably always will be. I shake my head and walk away. There’s nothing else to say to him. Maybe this is the end of me and Woody. Whatever fucked up thing that was. So that’s it. Adam Lloyd knows I posted the illustration of Woody kissing Luke to Facebook last year and outed them to the whole university. That’s why he’s suddenly being cold and distant. That’s why he didn’t invite me round to his last Saturday. Why he didn’t reply to my text until the next morning. And it’s probably the reason why he wasn't in my training session on Saturday afternoon like he usually is. Because he knows about the worst thing I ever did. Because his opinion of me has probably now completely changed. Just over a week ago I was sitting on the sofa in his dorm room. We were confiding in each other. I was telling him I liked lads. He was making flirty comments to me. Making remarks about my skinny jeans. Telling me he wanted to hug me and leaving his fist pushed up against mine for just a little too long while giving me that look. Less than a week ago, I thought that something might actually be happening between us. An actual bodybuilder here at Muscle University who likes lads. Who’s huge and good looking and easy to talk to. And now THIS has happened. I get this feeling like I NEED to do something. I think back to last summer with Ryan North. When he ignored and avoided me for a week because he’d gotten back with his girlfriend. I found out when he was working and waited outside the gym to confront him. When I fucked up with Harry the Bouncer, I went down to the pub he walked at on New Year’s Eve because I knew there was a chance he’d be there. But what the fuck do I now? Storm over to Adam’s room? Knock on his door and confront him? Try and explain why I did that stupid, twatty thing I did a year ago to Woody and Luke? Try and convince him that I’m not the bad guy he now clearly thinks I am? It just seems too much. WAY too much. Because nothing has actually happened between me and Adam Lloyd. This time I’ve managed to fuck things up before they’ve even started. Later on, I’m watching something on my laptop with my headphones in when Shaun comes home. Great. Another person in my life who has a problem with me. Another so-called friend I’ve recently been questioning if he’s actually my friend at all. When I retreat to the bathroom, I swear I can feel Shaun’s eyes on me. Which is weird. Because, lately, he usually just completely blanks me. And then, when I’m back on my bed looking at the McCarthy Classic website and schedule, something happens which almost makes me fall off the mattress. Shaun is suddenly standing over me, holding out one of his Xbox controllers. I look up at him. And he’s looking at me, straight-faced. I think of a dozen sarcastic things to say to him. “Yes? Do you want something?” “Why are you giving me that?” “Did you get lost on the way to the bathroom?” But I don’t say any of those things. I just take the controller, slide my laptop off me and follow Shaun back to his bed. Without saying anything, he loads up a game. Is this actually happening? Why do I suddenly feel lighter sitting here next to Shaun on his bed? It’s like a weight’s been lifted. And for the first time in as long as I can remember, the atmosphere in the room feels lighter too. “I’ve been thinking …,” Shaun begins. I look over at him. He’s looking straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the screen. “Next summer, after we graduate,” he continues. I have no idea where this is going. “We should go to America.” What the hell? I find myself smiling. And realise it’s the first time I’ve smiled in about four days. “Okay …?” I say. Shaun still won’t look at me. “Not just for a holiday either. Let’s go for, like, a month at least. We can travel around. Florida. California. New York.” “That … actually sounds pretty cool!” I say. “We can go to some shows. And loads of, like, hardcore bodybuilding gyms. Maybe meet some pros?” Wow. Shaun’s really put some thought into this. “I mean … they might even recognise you. You know ... after the McCarthy.” I nod, looking at Shaun. And then Shaun FINALLY looks at me. “I’ve been a bit of a dick, haven’t I?” he says. I can’t help smiling. I pull a face and shrug. “Yeah. Only a bit though.” His mouth curls into a smirk. And I’m smiling back at him. And just like that, me and Shaun are cool again. “Dude! What was it like at the pub with Woody and Henderson?’ I smirk and pull a face. “SO awkward!” “So is he, like … friends with him? Adam?” I suddenly feel nervous. Shaun looks a bit baffled. “Ummm … yeah. Well, More so Woody. They competed at the end of year show last year?” “Oh, yeah,” Shaun says. “That makes sense, I guess.” And they both like lads, Shaun. Like ME. Your roommate. Who, on occasion, stares a little bit too long at the freckles on your big, round shoulders and pumped up lats. I have a fleeting thought. Maybe the reason Shaun was so pissed off with me going out with Adam is that he knew there was maybe something going on there. Maybe he was secretly jealous. Because Shaun is secretly gay too. But as soon as the thought arrives, it goes again. Because that's utterly ridiculous. And even if it were true, I don’t think Shaun would have anything to worry about now with the Adam situation. “Let’s go out,” I say to Shaun. He looks at me confused. “A proper night out. The weekend after the McCarthy. The SU bar. Or even that pub in Little Hatton. It was all right, actually.” Shaun shakes his head. “Ash won’t go. Not when you're all still on the training programme.” “So you, me and Mafra’ll go! The end of term show’s not for, like, another month.” Shaun nods. I swear I can see a little smile there which he’s trying to hide. “Maybe you can invite Adam?” My stomach twists. “Hmmm. Maybe,” I say, biting my lip and not looking at my roommate. I go to bed in a better mood than I’ve been in for days. But when I wake up the next morning, ready to face Adam Lloyd for both my Digital Marketing and Social Media for Bodybuilders lecture and (presumably) my last training session before the big weekend, I feel pissed off. It’s like a tight knot in my chest that won’t go away. I’m pissed off at Sebastian Wood. I’m pissed off at Adam. And I’m pissed off at myself. For allowing myself to have those thoughts about him. For thinking that something could actually happen between us. For allowing myself to have those feelings for a guy when it’s only ended in disaster for me in the past. Why did I think this time would be any different? I barely look at Adam during Digital Marketing and Social Media for Bodybuilders. I just pretend like he’s not there. I didn’t plan it beforehand, something just takes over me. I don’t know if he’s noticed, but I feel like he has. Because when I do sneak a peek, he looks tense. Not as relaxed as he normally does. And a part of me secretly hopes that that’s because of me. Just like a part of me secretly hopes that when I walk into the Watson House gym for my last pre-McCarthy training session, he’s going to be standing there next to Walker. And he is. He’s actually here. In a bright red t-shirt with “Protein Factory” on the front. I guess there’s no ignoring him now. “Alright, D?” he says to me after Walker greets me. He seems nervous. Like he did last week. Maybe more than he did then. He’s not exactly smiling either. I can’t believe he called me D. I give him a little nod and say all right back. And I know it comes out flat. And kind of cold. But what does he expect? Things relax a little when the training commences (as they always do) and we all get lost in the training. When it’s all over, as well as wanting to throw up, this unexpected excitement pulses through me. Because that’s it. The last training session is done. Tomorrow we fly out to Chicago in the States for the McCarthy fucking Classic. Adam even makes eye contact with me when Walker’s talking about tomorrow. A little wide-eyed acknowledgement that something exciting and big is about to go down. A tiny shared moment between me and Adam Lloyd that momentarily feels like nothing’s happened between us. I hate the effect that that has on me. And that little pinch of elation I feel because of it. I expect Adam to say something to me before I leave. But he doesn’t. He just offers me a slightly awkward, tight-lipped smile. But it feels genuine. I start to head to the changing rooms, feeling deflated. But then - “Deano!” I spin around. Adam Lloyd is standing there. Bulging out of his red t-shirt. His big jug ears sticking out. “Just wanted to say … good luck out there.” He still looks nervous. I HATE that he’s nervous around me. How did it come to this? I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. “Thanks!” I say, my voice sounding weird. Adam seems to be studying my face. “We should catch up. When you’re back.” He seems genuine. Like he actually means it. I nod at him. I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth. “Maybe,” I say, looking at him. My voice sounds flat. Something flickers in Adam’s expression. He looks a little taken aback. Like he expected me to just roll over and say yes. Maybe he knows he’s fucked up. Or is it me who’s fucked up? At this point, I’m not really sure. I head back to the changing rooms. A part of me relieved, even a little excited at the thought that maybe all is not lost between me and Adam Lloyd. That maybe things COULD go back to the way they were before he found out about the Facebook post. But another part of me, a bigger part of me, wanting to just forget about Adam Lloyd. And all of the drama that’s happened over these last few days. Because tomorrow I fly out to America for one of the biggest bodybuilding shows on the planet. It’s here. It’s finally here. And now I just need to put all of that drama out of my head and forget. Forget about Adam Lloyd. And his tank-sized frame. And ridiculous good looks. And those big jug ears. Jesus. Those fucking ears.
    17 points
  40. Chapter 12 - The Client The flight to Barcelona was impressive in the luxurious private jet and thankfully uneventful. The single male flight attendant, though handsome, was a little too slim for my sexual tastes. He was unobtrusive and professional, appearing when needed and disappearing for most of the flight. I used the time and reviewed the ton of information I received from Eddie and the PR firm on my new social media sites, read and signed some legal documents, and watched the latest movie with The Rock. “Sir, I will be dimming the cabin lighting for the remainder of our flight and will be resting in the bunk at the rear of the plane. If you need anything, please do not hesitate to press the call button and I will be at your service momentarily.” the attendant said as he removed my final meal of the day. “Will there be anything else, Sir?” he asked, and for the first time I caught him eyeing my bulge protruding between my thick hairy thighs in my training shorts. I started to run with it to see if I could get a blowjob to help release my stress and the constant aching of my huge balls, but I decided I was here for a job and needed to be professional about this. “No, thank you very much, the food was amazing, and the service has been exceptional. I don’t require much sleep, so I’ll probably continue watching movies. And I’ll try to be quiet when I use the restroom back there. I drink so much water that I have to piss every two hours or so but getting this huge body in that little space is tricky.” I saw him slightly lick his lips and wondered if he was about to offer to drain the piss from my log down his throat, he quickly straightened up and said, “No problem, Sir, if it helps there is no need to close the lavatory door. I will have my curtains drawn for your privacy and will be reading for the remainder of the trip. Again, if you need anything don’t hesitate to ring.” Upon landing, the attendant escorted me through Customs and to the waiting limo. The driver whisked me through the city traffic to the waiting helicopter pad near the beach. The pilot took my travel bag and assisted with securing me in my seat next to him in the ‘not built for huge bodybuilders’ small helicopter. “Wow, you are huge, Sir!” the pilot exclaimed as he resized the extender straps on the over-the-chest seat belts. As the pilot buckled into his seat, I felt like I was taking up way too much of his personal space as my broad shoulders and 21-inch guns intruded well into his seating area forcing him to sit at an angle. As we took off, my fear of heights kicked in and my panic started. I did some deep breathing and focused on the horizon ahead, forcing myself not to look down. I could feel my body heating up and sweating, then it hit me. What if I send the pilot into an orgasmic state and he ends up crashing us into the ocean below! More panic, more deep breaths, more sweat. I intentionally kept my arms tight against my sides trying to limit the escape of my musky man scent. “Are you Ok, Sir? You’re really sweating.” the pilot said as I realized my huge body was soaking his uniform. “Let me turn up the air flow and see if that helps.” oh yes, that felt great! “Yes, thanks! Sorry, I’m a little anxious with heights but I’m starting to get used to it now.” I said, as I began to calm down and started to take in more of the incredible views. “There’s our ship just ahead.” The pilot said shortly after I had settled down. “The black one in the distance, can you see it?” as he pointed straight ahead. “Yes, how could you not, that is a huge boat!” I said, as the yacht became larger and larger as we closed in. “May I suggest you close your eyes as I take us in, I think you will enjoy the ride better. Just count to 20 and we’ll be there.” he said, and I quickly took him up on that suggestion, closing my eyes and mouthed one Mississippi, two Mississippi, … and before I got to fourteen Mississippi, he said, “Ok, Sir, we are here, please remain seated and I’ll come around and assist with unbuckling you.” I smiled and thanked him for his little trick to comfort me. “Good morning, Jason, I’m August and I’ll be your personal assistant during your stay.” said the tanned young man with an athletic build and Italian or maybe Greek swarthy good looks, as he ran up to the landing pad and grabbed my overnight bag and motioned for me to follow him. The yacht was unbelievably gorgeous, it looked like a five-star boutique hotel on the water. We passed down two levels to a short hallway, then August opened a double door at the end of the hall. “This will be your suite for your stay. I will unpack your items and store them here (pointing to the closet and built-in drawers), while you are at your appointment which begins in 40 minutes in the fitness facility with the boss. Do you need to change or are you already wearing the requested item?” August asked as his eyes went to the large bulge in my crotch. “I’m good.” I replied, “Let me brush my teeth and then you can show me to the gym.” The fitness facility was very well done with some impressive equipment and heavy dumbbells and weights, not like a full-blown bodybuilder’s gym but I could get a good workout here. Right now, all I needed to do was get a good pump going before the client showed up. I used the next 30 minutes to pound out one hell of a pump session and with just a few minutes before the top of the hour, I stopped and peeled off my drenched t-shirt, shorts, shoes, and socks; leaving only the requested worn-out jock. I threw my sweaty clothes over the various bars and machines then walked over to the full mirrors and marveled at the complete massiveness of my muscles. I threw up a double bicep and nodded, oh yeah, he’s going to fucking love all this prime grade A beef. Then down to a most muscular pose, grunting hard as my hairy pecs expanded and then kept expanding. Wow, my chest is fucking huge! I thought, as I released the pose and then hit it again. The sweat-soaked, dark chest hair swirled around each enormous mound of hard muscle, but the striations of the upper and lower pec muscles were clearly seen beneath. I paused the flexing and stood in the bodybuilder relaxed pose, eyeing my full body in the mirror. I was symmetrical in almost every body part except my pecs, which were clearly the dominant and over-sized muscle group. This pumped-up version of me in the mirror looked like someone had taken my huge, muscular image and then morphed my pecs to make them even bigger. I took both big paws and felt up the concrete muscle under the damp fur and pinched the downward facing nipples. Fuck, I wanted to worship me, I was so fucking hot! I was just able to unleash my hard juicy cock and jerk one out to the massive muscle beast in the mirror when I remembered where I was and the job I was supposed to do. Just then, I heard a tap on the glass door, I turned as the Client entered the room. “Wow, Jason, you are even more impressive in person than you are in your pictures.” The Client said as he closed the door and took a few steps into the gym towards where I was standing. He then stopped and grabbed the bar of the bench press, leaning into it and his body slightly trembling as he grabbed his chest. “Sir, are you OK?” I asked as I froze in place. He let out a few groans and then his body went down to his knees, more shudders, and gurgling noises, then he was on the floor. Fuck! I raced over, fuck, he’s having a fucking heart attack and going to die on me, fuck! “Sir, answer me, are you OK?” I was panicking as I dropped to the floor beside him. I gingerly supported his face and turned his limp body toward me. He slowly opened his eyes and looked deep into my eyes and then, very slowly, a light smile developed at the corners of his mouth. “I’m good, Jason, thank you. It has been so long since I have experienced that feeling.” he said as he began to rise up. “Thank you! Thank you!” he kept repeating, as he grabbed my triceps with his left hand as I assisted him up, while covering his crotch with his right hand. Oh Fuck, he fucking shot his load, the realization finally hit me, and I smiled, fully relieved that I hadn’t totally fucked this up and almost killed the guy somehow. “You’re welcome, Sir, for a minute there...” and before I could say anything else, he quickly and quietly escaped out the door and was gone. “I don’t know, Eddie, I guess I fucked it up!” ... “No, he just kept repeating ‘Thank you’ and disappeared.” ... “Yes, I’m sure he did!” ... “It was intense, hell, I thought he was having a heart attack.” ... “I saw the wet stain on his track pants as he was trying to cover it up.” ... “Yes, I’m fuckin’ sure!” ... I had made it back to my room and immediately called Eddie to update him. He was asking me the same questions over and over. Finally, he said, “I’m sure it will all be fine, I knew that manly scent would be a hit! I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything...oh wait, a notification just came through.” After a minute, Eddie said, “Your full payment was just deposited in your account, so, like I said, relax, you did great!” Hearing that the Client had paid for the session made me feel a little better, but I was still upset at how quickly he had disappeared and I didn’t get to show off these huge muscles. Are you going to spend the night on the yacht or go back to Barcelona?” Eddie asked. “Nah, I’m going back to Barcelona, I need to go out and fuck and release all of this pent up aggression!” I said finally removing my jock and letting my 9-incher slap my abs. Jeez this dick was hard as a steel pipe! I almost felt sorry for the first 5 guys I was going to fuck tonight. As I climbed into the large supple leather chair of the private jet for my return flight to Houston, the Attendant asked, “would you like a cocktail, Sir?” Even though I had a few drinks at the bar in Barcelona last night, I was still a little anxious about the outcome of the meeting with the Client. “Yes, please, I’ll have a Bombay Sapphire martini, dry. And do you have anything to snack on, I’m starving?” Within minutes, I was served my martini and a charcuterie board which looked like it had come from one of the finest restaurants in the world. “Here you go Sir, we’ll begin the dinner service once we have reached cruising altitude.” As I enjoyed my cocktail and tasty snacks, I recalled the incredible sexual antics from last night. I had visited a crowded gay bar after dinner and being the new Meat in town, was the center of a lot of attention from the stunningly sexy men of Barcelona. I received several invitations for one-on-one or three-way encounters, but I knew that I would need more to satisfy my desires. I asked one of the studs if there was a sex club or afterhours orgy, and his eyes lit up. He took me to one of the hottest bathhouses I have ever experienced. There were so many beautiful, built men everywhere. I honestly lost count of how many times I shot my load and how many different men I fucked. I was a fucking machine, branding my mark in every hot, hairy hole I could find. It wasn’t like the Superdrive weekend with that all-encompassing need to fuck, but instead just a constant enjoyment of pure man-on-man sex. At one point, the manager gave me his card and told me I was welcome back anytime to the club for free. He said that he had never witnessed anyone like me who brought in so much business. Guys were messaging their friends to come there and as they were checking in were asking “where is the Big American Bull?”. After 12 hours I finally left to head back to my hotel, arriving just in time as the driver had just messaged me that he was here to take me to catch my flight. About 2 hours into the flight after the delicious dinner and dessert, I stripped and stretched my naked body out on the bed to try to relax. As soon as my head hit the pillow, my phone dinged with an email from Eddie. I read through the long email quickly and then re-read it a second time to make sure it was true. In summary, the Client had contacted Eddie and was very impressed with me. The Client bought out my retainer fee for the next 3 months at $250,000 and is sending me to Las Vegas to stay in his penthouse. The Client has arranged for me to train for 4 weeks with a former bodybuilding champion and now coach of several Mr. Olympia contenders! Holy fuck!! And the Client will be in town for the final weekend of my stay and will have two sessions of muscle worship with me during that time, another $100,000. That would be a total of Three hundred and fifty thousand dollars, plus all expenses paid, plus being trained by one of the greatest bodybuilding coaches in the world, for four fun-filled weeks in Vegas! Fuck yea, I replied! I then read it again and again and again!
    17 points
  41. Eight If someone had sat me down at the beginning of the term and told me all of the things that were about to happen, I’m not sure what I would have believed the least; the university flying me over to America to guest pose at the McCarthy Classic, having an actual civil conversation with Sebastian Wood and contemplating the notion that we could actually be friends, finding out that Luke Henderson has put me at the top of some kind of “Hottest Arses at Muscle University” list or discovering that one of the biggest (and arguably one of the best looking) bodybuilders on campus likes lads. I always knew that the latter could happen. That I’d find out that me, Luke and Woody weren’t the only ones. But now that it actually has, now I know that me and Adam Lloyd, the tank-sized jug-eared monster who I’m pretty sure made a flirty comment about my skinny jeans on Saturday, have more in common than just bodybuilding and playing Xbox, I don’t really know what the fuck to do. I almost wish Adam WASN’T gay. Because then there wouldn’t be this possibility. That something could actually happen between us. Something that would no doubt end in complete and utter disaster. Just like it did with Harry the Bouncer. And with Ryan North PT. The second I walk into the changing rooms of the Watson House gym on Monday morning, I internally groan. Because sitting on one of the benches, his head buried into his phone is Seth fucking “Ozzie” Osman. Ugh. Is it too late to turn around, walk out and hope he doesn’t see me? He’s wearing a black cap and a white vest. Quite honestly? His shoulders have never looked bigger. In fact, he’s never looked more jacked in general. I kind of hate how good his physique is. And then I spot something else. There’s something written on his cap. Before I head to the furthest possible locker from where he’s seated, I notice the word “OSMAN” in white letters. Wait - what the fuck? And then it hits me. There’s a gym called “Osman’s Gym”. I KNEW I knew that surname from somewhere. “All right, Deano!” he calls. For fuck’s sake. He says it cheerfully. I can’t work out if he’s just genuinely being friendly or he’s on a mission to wind me up. This guy MUST know how annoying he is. Surely? For some reason, I don’t respond. Maybe I wanna see what he’ll do. “Yo!” he calls. “Deeeea-no?” I straighten my face up and turn around briefly. “All right,” I say, flatly. As I’m throwing my black Montgomery University hoodie into my locker, I feel a presence behind me. For. Fuck’s. Sake. And sure enough, now leaning against the lockers next to mine, is Ozzie. This smug grin on his face. Looking to wind me the fuck up. His pumped arms folded and bulging. Like, SERIOUSLY fucking bulging. I can see the “OSMAN’S GYM” on his cap more clearly now. “So you’re kind of like the second-year version of me?” he says. Okay. What the FUCK? “How do you work that one out?” I ask him, genuinely baffled. His smirk gets bigger. Now that he’s closer up I notice just how good looking he actually is. Cute boyish features and all that. Ugh. Why are the good looking bodybuilders such bell-ends? Apart from Adam Lloyd, of course. “Well … we’re about the same height. Similar-ish builds. Neither of us is afraid to say what we think!” I frown at him. This guy doesn’t know me at all. “Oh - plus both of our dad’s own bodybuilding gyms.” Fucking hell. How does everyone suddenly know about Deano’s Gym? “How do you know that?” I ask suspiciously. I hate how my voice sounds. Like I actually care. He shrugs and does this annoying smirk and eyebrow raise thing. I roll my eyes and put my backpack in my locker. “I mentioned your name to my pa. He went nuts and said your dad’s a fucking legend and owned his own gym. So I Googled it.” “Oh right,” I say dryly, slightly surprised that Ozzie would even mention me to his dad. I’m suddenly curious as to whether he’s a mini-me version of HIS dad. “You look like him. Your old man.” Wait - is this Ozzie guy actually being nice to me now? It’s hard to tell. He’s just glaring at me. In that way he does. “Great,” I say, closing my locker. It comes out way more sarcastically than I meant it to. I don’t know why, but I just feel like being rude to him. I just … don’t really trust this guy. He lets out a little laugh. “What’s your problem, Little Dude?” LITTLE DUDE? Ugh. What. The. Fuck? I was right not to trust him. This guy IS a dick. “It’s cause I called your posing boring, isn’t it?” I fold my arms defensively and narrow my eyes at him. He leans his face closer to me. “CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, Deano.” I roll my eyes. “That’s what you call it?” Ozzie unfolds his arms. “Yeah?! Look … I think you’re good!” Wait - what? “You’ve got a wicked physique. Awesome shoulders. Decent pecs. Quads. It’s all there. But you pose with, like, NO attitude, Little Dude!” “I don’t NEED to pose with attitude.” He laughs. “EVERY bodybuilder should show attitude on stage. It’s part of the package. Especially ones as good as us.” “I think it’s tacky,” I say, matter-of-factly. Ozzie screws his face up. “Do you think my posing routine last week was tacky?” “Yep,” I say, calmly. “Tacky. Attention-seeking. Over the top. ANNOYING. And … a bit embarrassing, if I’m being honest.” He’s glaring at me. He’s smirking a bit, but there’s something else there too. I really can't tell if he’s annoyed, offended or impressed. Maybe it’s a bit of everything. I shut my locker door. “Just a bit of CONSTRUCTIVE criticism.” And then I walk away, and FUCK, I’m smiling, Because I feel like I just put Seth “Ozzie” cocky twat Osman in his place. Yeah. I definitely fucking won that one. For the next few days, I’m kind of hoping for some one-on-one time with Adam Lloyd. After our training sessions. Or my lectures with him and Walker. But it doesn’t happen. I can’t lie. There’s something about being with Adam when it’s just the two of us that’s kind of exciting. He seems to let his guard down when Dave Walker’s not around. He switches out of teaching assistant mode and I feel like I’m just chatting to a mate. Who’s easy to talk to. And impossible not to like. And who I just found out likes lads. This might sound a bit crazy, but the other day, I found myself fantasising about taking Adam Lloyd back to Brighton to meet my family. Maybe he’d be wearing his red Montgomery hoodie and I’d be wearing my black one. I know, I know. Fucking ridiculous. But in the fantasy, pretty much everyone loved him. Mum being completely charmed by him. Josh thinking he was sound and just one of the lads. Archie just gawping at him red-faced and terrified, barely able to form a sentence. Dad kind of grunting and saying, “Hmmm. He’s all right, I suppose.” Then maybe making a comment about the size of his ears. When I’m walking back to my dorm room from my Advanced Anatomy lecture on Thursday afternoon I get a text message which more than makes up for my lack of one-on-one time with Adam Lloyd this week. Fancy a geeky gaming night on Saturday? Okay, it’s ridiculous (fucking RIDICULOUS) what getting that text message does to me. And how much it makes me smile. But then - fuck, my stomach twists sharply. Because this is all starting to feel a bit too familiar. My phone pings again. It’s another text from Adam. Shaun’s invited as well obviously. And then my heart fucking drops. Ugh. Shaun? Seriously? When it could just be me and Adam. Alone in his dorm room. But then - okay, this could actually be a GOOD thing. Because this might help keep me grounded about the whole thing. Stop my mind from spiralling and thinking that just because Adam likes lads, it doesn’t mean anything needs to happen between us. Or is even likely to happen. He could have a boyfriend for all I know. Back home in Kent. Or even here at Montgomery. His hot friend Ty from the SU Bar. Fuck - I bet that IS his fucking boyfriend. Which would be fine by me. Completely and absolutely one hundred per cent fine. Shaun’s sitting on his bed with his head buried in his laptop when I get back to the dorm room. I don’t know if I’m imagining it, but the atmosphere feels a bit weird. I say all right to him. He says it back, without looking up. And I can tell straight away from his face and the tone of his voice that something is wrong. I internally groan. What the fuck is he in a mood about now? I don’t react. I’m NOT going to react. As I throw my backpack onto my bed and start taking out my gym clothes, I pretend that everything’s fine. “Where did you say you were Saturday?” Oh fuck. My insides clench. There’s something about the tone of Shaun’s voice that I don’t like. I’ve got my back to him. “Adam’s?” I say, like it’s a weird question. I dump my backpack on the floor. “That’s weird!” Shaun says. What the fuck is this? Why do I feel like I’m being ambushed? “What?” I say defensively, as I sit on my bed. Feeling pissed off and attacked. Shaun’s got this suspicious look on his face. “Cause Baker reckons he saw you coming in from outside!” He’s just glaring at me accusingly. Like he doesn’t understand. And like I’ve done something REALLY bad. I pull a face like this whole conversation is ridiculous. “And he said you were with … Woody and Henderson?” he says. And now he looks weirded out. And uncomfortable. I start to feel panicked. And then I realise how ridiculous that is. I groan and roll my eyes. “Okay. Fine! I went to a pub!” Shaun puts his laptop aside and sits up. “What pub?!” he cries. A baffled look on his face. “One in Little Hatton. It was Adam’s birthday. I couldn’t really say no!” (That last part is obviously a lie.) Shaun screws his face up. And now he suddenly looks pissed off. “What - so you won’t get to the SU bar cause you’re TRAINING …,”`(he pulls a face), “but you’ll go to a pub in Little Hatton?!” I groan and grab my laptop. “I had ONE DRINK, Shaun.” “And what the hell were Woody and Luke doing there?” “He’s friends with them,” I say with a shrug, but my insides are twisting. Shaun’s just looking at me. It’s like his mind is ticking over. Wait - is Shaun starting to suspect? Is my best mate at Muscle University starting to suspect that I might be keeping one huge, monumental secret? “I didn’t know they were gonna be there,” I tell him, trying not to look or sound guilty or suspicious. But I’m not sure if I’m doing a good job. His eyes narrow. “So you lied?” he says, turning stony-faced. I groan and put my laptop down. I’m starting to lose my patience. “Yes!” I say, sternly. My tone of voice surprising me. “Because I knew you’d react like THIS!” “Like what?!” he spits. “All … weird and moody about it!” Shaun looks at me like he’s speechless. Then he scoffs. “Whatever!” he says, shaking his head and grabbing his backpack from the floor. “Where are you going?” “The gym. You can hang out with your new mates,” he says. Oh for fuck’s sake. How ridiculous. I guess our usual Thursday gaming night is off tonight, then. If Shaun wants to get wound up over something stupid like this that’s up to him. But then, as he heads towards the door, he says something which makes my insides twist. “Maybe you can go to a gay bar or something.” Fuck. What. The. Fuck? And now he’s gone, slamming the door behind him. And I’m left sat here. This horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. Does Shaun know? And what if I fucking WAS going to a gay bar? Because - SPOILER ALERT SHAUN - your roommate likes lads. And now I’m starting to wonder what would happen if Shaun found out that little piece of information? Would he still want to be friends? Would I still be the PROPER FRIEND he said I was that night he got drunk at the SU bar? And if not, if the fact that I happen to be attracted to other men would make Shaun not want to be friends with me, is that the type of person I want to be mates with? Even waste my time with? I pick up my phone, this mix of confusion and anger surging through me, and I reply to Adam’s text message from earlier and his offer of going round to his room on Saturday. Count me in! Shaun can’t make it though. So I guess I'm going round to Adam Lloyd’s room on my own on Saturday then. Just me and Adam Lloyd. Adam Lloyd who likes lads. Alone in his room. No big deal about that. No big deal at all.
    16 points
  42. Written and Co-Written by : @leogrando and @Biggerbeef The Sub boi aiming a gun at The Master, shouting "No, You can’t control yourself! I won't Give this to you!" The Master slowly walks to the stupid boi. "No Stop.. You Don't want to make me use this... I... I..." The Master smacks his hand and pushes him down, taking over the gun. The boi drops on the floor and starts trembling. The boi staring into the dark hole of the gun. While aiming The Master screams "You Stupid FAGGOT! You dare thinking I'm not in control! I CONTROL EVERYTHING! I'M THE BOSS!! I'm the MASTER!! AND I'M THE ALPHA!" The Master Glances at that shitting boi and starts laughing. "Shit even you couldn't control this gun! The safety is still on! Hahaha. WEAK!! YOU FUCKING WEAK FAGGOT!! You think you can control me boi? "Nahhhh… I CONTROL YOU!!! I OWN YOU LITTLE SHIT!! AND I DECIDE HOW BIG I'M GONNA GET AND YOU GONNA WATCH GROW AND YOU’RE GOING ENJOY IT!!!” He gets to the boi ears and whispers “E-v-e-r-y second of it” "So… shut the hell up! Be a good boi! and Watch! Watch your Glorious Muscular Alpha Growing" The master says. He starts drinking the Serum. He chugs so vigorously that it overflows and drips into his chest. But nothing’s wasted, the serum starts infusing into his body He drinks One bottle... Empty... Second Bottle... Empty... Third Bottle Empty... Forth bottle… Empty… And the Fifth Bottle. He drinks non-stop. Eventually, His Veins start swelling up and slowly become green. "Fifth Bottle's the charm hey... Let’s see what the... SHIT!!!" The Master curses... While he is still pointing the gun at the boi, his body starts to tremble. His legs starting to vibrate and his smile's widening. "I can FEEL IT!!! YES!!!" FUCK! THIS IS THE BEST SHIT I HAVE EVER TAKEN!!!" He Screams and Curses In agony but also in glee. His body twitches, His Muscles moving side to side Bulging from everywhere. The growth was explosive. His Chest widening by the seconds, His shirt pulling upwards and revealing rows of abs start to emerge one row at the time. His biceps is now stretching the shirt sleeves, expanding to its limits. Before they met the Master’s shirt was very loose, but now it clings to his body like a superhero costume. You could see every inch of that body through those pieces of fabric. That 8 Pack Abs bulging; The pecs hanging proudly and those nips peeking waywards through the fabric like it’s ready to shoot some hot thick milk. Those arms covered with enormous thick veins, and running through a glorious 22 Inches Biceps. The boi sizes him up and curses “FUCK!!!” as The Master’s biceps stretching the sleeves to the maximum limit trying to contain the godly power. “You Impressed Little brat?” The Master Asks. The boi gulps. “Well there’s also another thing that you need to see” The Master says while he playfully taps his groin. Then The Master’s dick pokes up from his boxer and rises up until it pokes his pecs. The Master’s dick is the real deal. It’s as big and veiny as his Arms. You won’t need a fisting session if you get impaled by The Master’s glorious cock. " YOU SEE THIS LITTLE BRAT!! I'M A GOD!! I'M A FUCKINGG ALPHA MUSCLE GOD!!" He said with a big grinning smile. He picks up the boi by the head and taunts “You think you deserve these ROUND! BULGING! PECS!? NO! I’M THE MUSCLE GOD!! I DESERVE TO BE TREATED AS A GOD AND WORSHIP AS A GOD” then he smashes and squishes the boys head between his godly pecs Suddenly, his expression changed to rage "BUT YOU!! YOU DARE BLOCK THIS GOD FROM HIS RIGHTEOUS PATH!! YOU FUCKING DARE YOU LITTLE FAGGOT" While aiming the gun on that puny boi "I... I'm..." The boi looks down and is scrambling for words, he tries to search for words and sentences that could save him but also please the Master. A loud bang suddenly scared the little boi. He looks at the floor and it’s an empty bottle canister. The boi slowly looks up, not wanting to look at the master's eyes. But the scenery is just too much for the boi. The boi saw the master drinking and bathing with growth serum. The serum drips and flows between his pecs and abs like a waterfall and splashes down to the godly dick. The Master’s muscles shine and glow, illuminating the whole room and penetrating the boi sight. The boi is just in awe and frozen to take in the moment. " Sorry Little shit, You just bore me... But You know what's not boring… THIS FUCKING SERUM.” The Masters says while he opens another two more bottles and chugs them. The serum went into the master’s mouth and he sucked it all like a black hole. After the bottle is emptied, The Master stares at the serum that clings to his body and says, “This serum… no… this nectar… the power it gives... I could feel it coursing through my body... inch by inch... EXPANDING MY MUSCLE!!! HEIGHTENING MY SENSES!!! MAKING ME THE GOD I DESERVE TO BE!!!" The master screams and his body grows again. The Master’s shirt couldn’t contain him anymore and turn into fibers. The Master’s pecs grow and widen, showing ripple and striation like the world hasn't seen. His boxer also just disintegrates, the massive junk rip the boxer apart trying to find more space and room to grow. He also grows taller and now the rows of abs also start to add. The boi tries to count but stopped at the 12 Abs. The 22 Inch Biceps now turn into 35 Inches, looking like two giant watermelons stuck together. The master’s head bumps the ceiling, so with one swift move he rips the whole room ceiling panel, tearing it down. The boi tries to escape the flying debris and jumps into a work desk . The boi coughs from the dust, but when the dust settles the boi could now see how gigantic The master has become and he could feel it his groin start to wet from the cum that he holds from the moment the master grows. The Master suddenly stops worshiping his beautiful round pecs and looks into the boi eye. He grinned widely and say “See boi those nectar are meant for me! Look at me, I'm so Beautiful! So muscular! So shredded! So.. So godly! You’re now nothing compared to me” The master said while looking down at the boi. “As Punishment for being a bad boi, I’ll give you a task” The Master then puts the gun between his hands and he starts to squeeze the gun. The gun bends and cracks, bending into the master's will turning into a dildo. "See fuck that was only my hand strength! I can turn a gun into a dildo! I mean how godly is that!” The Master smiles proudly of his creation. “Here you go boi!" He tosses the metal dildo to the boi. The boi catches it, but drops into the floor cause of the massive power of the toss " Now Amuse me Boi" The master says while looking right into the boi’s eyes. " TAKE YOUR PANTS OFF AND START TO PREPARE YOUR HOLE FOR ME!!" The boi froze, he’s imagining in a couple of minutes he will be fucked by the hugest dick he had ever seen. It’s almost as thick and tall as him. " BOI!!! IF YOU FREEZE AGAIN, I'LL LOOSEN THAT HOLE MYSELF, BUT BOI YOU DON'T WANT To SEE THAT! No no no... Cause I’LL RAM MY WHOLE DICK INTO YOUR BODY AND I HOPE YOU’RE READY CAUSE maybe you'll end up like that gun. You'll be Squish and Mold into my personal cumrag, You got that brat" The Master taunts The boi nod silently "Good Now amuse me boi" The Master smile and grinning
    15 points
  43. Chapter 11 - The Advisor - End of Year 1 “You’re doing great!” Dr. Malik said as he glanced at the overall test results on his tablet. “All of your blood work, enzymes, EKG, MRI results, well, everything is fantastic.” he smiled as he looked at my naked body standing before him and Big John. “Thanks Doc, I feel amazing. I can’t believe how my body has changed so much in the last year. And thanks again for accepting me into your program, you have truly changed my life!” I replied, not the least bit self-conscious that my throbbing cock had a long stream of pre-cum that dripped from the tip of my fat head all the way to a small puddle gathering on the floor below. He ran through my body stats, “Height 6’, Weight 270#, Chest 52”, Waist 32”, Arms - Calves - Neck all 21”, Quads 30”, Body Fat at a consistent 8%. Erect Penis 9” x 7”.” He then glanced down at my throbbing meat and followed the constant stream of pre-cum as it hit the floor below me. Dr Malik continued, “Oh, and looking at those big feet, what size shoes are you wearing now?” I laughed and said, “yea, I just bought some 13’s because the last pair were too tight.” “I can’t make any promises, but you realize Jason if you continue in this project through year 3 that your growth projections will have you as one of the biggest men in Texas. And if you complete through the 5th and final year, you will be the absolute largest bodybuilder in the world!” Dr. Malik said with a bit of pride and awe. I glanced back at Big John behind him who also nodded and had a big smile on his face. I responded with a gush of precum flying from my aching boner at the thought of being the largest muscle man on Earth. I took a moment and measured my words. I wanted to say this and not seem ungrateful, “Honestly Doc, I love the idea of being the biggest beast on the planet, but I just don’t know how I’m ever going to be able to afford it. Thankfully I’m working from home full time, so I don’t have to keep buying new work clothes but getting new gym clothes and shoes almost every other month is expensive; plus, my food bill alone is already ridiculous.” Dr. Malik went over to his desk and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a business card and handed it to me. “This is Eddie Gonzales, and he is a financial advisor. I’ll let him know that you are going to stop by on Monday afternoon after your gym session. The address is on the back, don’t shower and wear one of your tightest tank tops. He’ll love it!” Ok, well nothing unusual about all of that, I thought sarcastically. But Dr. Malik had never given me any reason to doubt his advice, so I said, “Thanks Doc, I’ll be there.” “Great, now let’s get you prepped for your booster so you can get over to that Superdrive sex orgy!” Dr. Malik said with a mischievous grin. “Hell yea Doc, let’s go, I got a weekend of nonstop sex ahead of me!” The Monday after my booster procedure I’m still a little wired up, not all sex crazed like over the weekend with the Superdrive, as that tends to settle out, but my body is still pumped, and my dick is still always throbbing for action. This 4th booster packed on another 12 pounds of muscle and at 282 pounds, I was feeling like a bull at the gym today, breaking personal records and throwing around a ton of iron. When we finished and were heading over to Eddie Gonzales’ address, David said, “damn daddy, even with all the windows down you are throwing off some incredible pit smells! I mean, I’m not going to lose it, but you just smell so fucking good!” He said as he was stroking his dick in his shorts with his left hand while driving with the right hand. I made a conscious effort to keep my arms down to control the volume of release of my scent, just to be safe. I thought about putting back on my hoodie that I wear while I’m lifting that helps to control my scent, but the weather was too nice. We chatted a little about the Superdrive party and how I was topping more and bottoming less. “I only got to fuck you once this time, daddy, seems like you were always looking for more ass to load up.” David said with a little puppy dog look on his face. “Sorry son, but you know we can always schedule some one-on-one play time.” David dropped me off at the large gate to the estate and we agreed for me to message him when I was ready for a pickup. After being buzzed in, the large gate led to a winding walkway through old oak trees and a short walk to the mansion ahead. Even though it was not yet Summer, the Houston humidity was in full force, and I was covered in sweat by the time I reached the front door. “Please come in, it is nice to meet you Jason, I’m Eddie. Wow, Amir said you were built, but you are absolutely massive!” Eddie said as he ushered me into his home, grabbing a quick feel of my huge, pumped arms and escorted me down a long side hallway into a private office overlooking a beautiful pool. “Have a seat and can I get you anything?” Eddie motioned to one of the high back leather chairs opposite his desk. “I’m good,” I replied, holding up my large protein smoothie in my thermos, “but I’m covered in sweat and don’t want to mess up your nice chair.” Eddie laughed, “No worries, I just hope it can hold you. You are so huge!” I was used to these types of compliments and nodded thanks while giving him a few hairy pec pops in my drenched tank top. “If you don’t mind, can you give me a flex?” Eddie asked with a half motion of a double bicep to indicate his request. “Oh yea, you want to see the big 21-inch guns, huh?” I sat my thermos down on the side table and gave a slow reach up to the ceiling, then slowly brought both elbows down into a hard double bicep pose. “Oh man, wow, you’re just so big!” Eddie exclaimed. “Yea, look at that double peak on these fuckers!” I growled, nodding at the baseball biceps as I relaxed my arms out then flexed them in hard again, really flaring my lats to give him the full view of my massive muscles. “So huge...oh fuck...oh my god…” he moaned. And then I realized that Eddie, like so many others, was having a hands-free orgasm from the wave of my sweaty musk crashing over him. I kept pumping my big guns, dayum, I thought, they were so fucking big. I just kept giving him the full muscle fantasy as he shot his load in his pants. Eddie jumped up and went into the nearby bathroom. After a few minutes, he came back and apologized, “I don’t know what happened, I’m so embarrassed.” And I said, “No worries man, it happens quite often when I flex these monsters. I should have showered but the Doc said to come right over after the gym. My huge muscles and pit musk tends to send men over the edge. We might want to move outdoors unless you want to keep going off?” Eddie said, “That’s incredible! Oh, yea, maybe we should go outside by the pool so that doesn’t happen again, and we can have some dinner. I'll have the chef grill us some steaks.” I messaged David that I would take an Uber home later. “Do you mind if I jump in your pool to cool off?” I asked, already stripping off my tight tank top. “Of course, I’ll get you some trunks.” Eddie said as he reached for his phone to message someone. “No need.” I replied, as I dropped my gym shorts and jock, letting my fat hard cock and huge balls fly free. I dove into the deep end just as I heard a gasp from Eddie’s direction. The cool water felt good on my skin as I powered through the water feeling like Aquaman. After a few laps, I exited at the shallow end and grabbed a towel to dry off. I dropped the towel and walked back naked to my pile of clothes, my big hard pole slapping each muscular quad as I walked. I put on the tattered jock and joined Eddie at the round glass table nearby. Eddie was speechless, I just sat there for a few moments and let him gather himself. Once he recovered from the show, Eddie and I spent the next few hours talking about my life, my goals, and my future. We came up with a game plan for my financial situation. He called his PR guy to begin to establish my online presence in the various social media platforms. I told them I was only on Facebook (for friends and family with about 200 connections) and Twitter (for news). The PR guy noted my massive following of 28 people on Twitter and said I think we’ve got some room to grow. I gave him my passwords to my accounts and his initial plan is to set up a new persona on all the social networks. He would create new Twitter, Tumblr, TikTok, YouTube, and Instagram accounts to document my bodybuilding and growth for sponsorship opportunities. I was told to close any of the gay hookup accounts, “Do you have any?” I listed out my accounts on Scruff, Grindr, Jack’d, DaddyHunt, Adam4Adam, BBRT, and on and on. “Don’t judge me,” I joked, “I’m a horny gay man and I have a lot to offer!” I said as I motioned to my big, muscled body and throbbing thick cock. “You’ll need to close them all down.” The PR guy said. “Man, I feel that. Fuck, that’s going to hurt.” I replied. I was also instructed to never send out any more nude pics until they were ready for that phase in my strategy. After that conversation, Eddie and I spoke about corporate and private sponsorships to support my muscle growth needs. He felt confident that he could secure multiple sponsorships for clothing, shoes, and equipment. “You’ll never have to buy another jock-strap again. And it looks like you need some new ones as that one is barely holding on.” Eddie said as he eyed my crotch with my large balls and 9-inch cock barely contained within the tattered, oversized pouch of my used jock. “I like to break them in, plus I have them specially altered to expand the pouch to contain this big meat and balls.” “We’ll be selling those sweaty jocks at a high price at auction each week.” Eddie replied as he continued to type on his laptop. “Sweaty and cum stained!” I added with a wink. "How comfortable are you with muscle worship sessions?" Eddie asked matter of fact, and I quickly responded, "I'm good with it as you’ve seen. I love to flex and I'm a big exhibitionist so I think it will be no problem." Eddie smiled and said, “Yes, you are very comfortable and very good at showing off that massive body. Do you mind if I take a few quick pictures of you flexing?” I immediately jumped up and walked over to some good lighting and began a few poses while Eddie used his iPhone to snap away. "You’re amazing, I have a few high wealth clients who each could fully buyout your annual contract price and with your handsome good looks, incredible muscular body, huge hard cock, and that little trick you have with those sweaty pits, I think we are going to make a lot of money for you. And, of course, I’ll get my percentage for managing and growing your financial assets” “Do you have a current passport?" Eddie asked as he was typing rapidly on his laptop. "Yea, I do. I must keep it current for my job, but I've yet to be sent anywhere to use it. Why do you ask?" As I grabbed a water bottle from the nearby outdoor kitchen and returned to my seat. Eddie had a big smile on his face, "I just sent out your offer sheet to a couple of top clients as a test run to see how you would play and verify if my hunch is correct. My number 2 client responded immediately after seeing your pics and bio and wants to meet you this weekend. He is sending his jet; you'll fly to Barcelona on Friday and then his helicopter will carry you out to his yacht in the Mediterranean. After your 1-hour session on Saturday, you can either stay on the yacht or be taken back to Barcelona for an all-expenses paid weekend. The private jet will bring you back to Houston, arriving Monday morning. I just forwarded the $5k to your bank account he paid as the 10% advance on your full fee for an initial consultation." My jaw dropped, "Wait, what? This guy is going to fly me in his private jet to his yacht off the coast of Spain and pay me… (pause as I did some quick math) ... Fifty Fucking thousand dollars to worship my huge muscles for an hour?!?! Are you kidding me? Do I have to fuck him or let him fuck me? Is he disgusting? What's the catch man?" “There is never any sex, oral or anal, during the paid hourly muscle worship sessions, now what you do after the session is really up to you, but nothing is expected. You will allow him to touch your muscles during the session, but no touching of your genital area is permitted, and no reciprocation is ever expected from you. You’ll wear whatever type of underwear the client specifies, if not specified, you can wear your tattered sweaty jockstrap. The client will almost always masturbate in front of you. However, your little trick with those musky muscle pits might prove that to be unnecessary.” Eddie responded as if reading the basic rules at a swimming pool. “My client is a multi-billionaire in his early 60’s and he keeps himself in good physical condition. I’ll share his short bio and picture once you have signed his non-disclosure contracts.” As we wrapped up, I remembered I needed to call for an Uber but Eddie was having none of that. “I’ll have my driver carry you home,” as he buzzed for one of the servants. “Tell Sven to bring around the car to take our client wherever he needs to go.” I put on my gym shorts but carried the tank top in my hand. As we walked back to the front door, Eddie was populating my calendar with meetings with his attorney, photographer, public relations, etc. I shook Eddie’s hand and thanked him for everything, no thanks necessary he stated, “as your Financial Advisor, I’m going to make a lot of money with my percentage on your investments.” Outside was a silver Rolls Royce and the back door was being opened by a beautiful blond muscle man in dark jeans and a royal blue polo. The driver turned to greet me, and we instantly recognized each other from our gym. He had recently started lifting there last week and we had played the flirting eye game but had never spoken. “Nice to finally meet you Sven,” I said as I held out my hand in greeting. He gave me a big smile in recognition and replied back in a Nordic accent, “Yes, it is very good to meet you too Sir,” with a big firm handshake and his eyes wide, ogling my big hairy chest. “Do you live here or nearby?” I asked in my deepest voice, cutting to the chase as I pulled him in closer for a hug, wrapping my big arms around him and letting him feel my rock-hard cock against him. I had not cum since earlier in the morning and my balls were now aching for a release. Sven immediately reached back and closed the door of the Rolls. “This way, Sir” as he grabbed my paw and led me around the drive to the side of the huge garage to a stairway up to his loft on the second floor. We barely made it inside before our lips met, hands pulling clothes off, as I wrestled him to the floor. The young, blond-haired, blue-eyed muscle stud broke free and said, “let’s go over to the bed so you can fuck me with your huge cock, Sir.” This beautiful, innocent looking young man turned out to be a wild sexual stud who rivaled bodybuilder Nick as a long-lasting power bottom. He couldn’t get enough of me pounding his smooth muscled ass! I was happy to oblige as we fucked deep into the night, and we fell asleep with my big throbbing dick nuzzled deep in his sweet, muscular ass. I woke just before sunrise and enjoyed the view as the sun trickled into the loft windows landing on Sven’s creamy white skin as we laid snuggled up in the big spoon / little spoon position. His smaller frame fit perfectly into my larger body. His muscular body was hairless except for his blond curly pits and pubes and the contrast with my thick dark fur was so hot. His thick pecs looked like two cream covered pillows with big, rosy-red, giant nipples which just begged to be sucked. His skin was so clear it was almost translucent as I could see the veins running across his muscular pecs. I was still deep inside him, and my cock began to throb but I kept still. I slowly reached around with my right hand and began lightly teasing the very tip of his left nipple with my finger in a small circular motion. I went from one nipple to the other, teasing the tip, as they each hardened, extending out about a half inch from his pecs. Sven was still deep in sleep as I enjoyed myself with this sensual play and exploration. This continued for about half an hour until my balls begged for their morning release. Let’s see if this will work, I thought, as I stretched out my right hand above my head exposing my ripe, muscle pit only inches from Sven's sleeping face. Two snores in and I felt his muscle hole squeeze my throbbing meat as he breathed in my rank, musky scent. Another snore and more movement and a moaning sound. The fourth breath in and then fully awake and grinding on my cock, his body tightening and moaning. I quickly lowered my arm and grabbed his rock-hard dick and squeezed it with all my might, causing him to gasp in pain and his rushing orgasm to stop. I wanted to pound his gorgeous ass and not let him cum so quickly. “Not so fast, pretty boy, and good morning.” I whispered in his ear as I kissed his lobe and neck, as I began thrusting my juicy dick into his tight hole. After an hour of sweaty drilling, I finally loaded his sweet ass with my huge cumload. “Fuck, I’m going to be late!” Sven sprang up as he raced to the bathroom, daym he is beautiful in motion. “I’ve got to drive Mr. Gonzales to the airport this morning and he’s going to be pissed that I didn’t get you home!” Sven was panicked. “Don’t worry about me, handsome, I’ll message my trainer to pick me up out front.” I said in my most reassuring daddy voice. We made plans to see each other again as I headed out, I definitely wanted more of this sexy stud!
    15 points
  44. Chapter 10 - The Delivery Drivers (Year 1, 3rd quarter update) It has been a crazy 6 months since I last updated my journal on the MG Project. Between my workouts, sex, meals, sex, sleep, sex, and work, my 24-hour day is jammed full. Shortly after those 48 hours of non-stop fucking after my first booster procedure, it seems like my life shifted into a different gear and some amazing things happened. I started back at my job from my short-term disability leave on the Monday after the booster procedure and was at my desk for a whole hour before the news came in that we were being bought out by another firm. We were then told to go home and await further instructions. Thankfully, later that day I was informed that my position was maintained, and I could also option to work-from-home full time! Hell Yeah! This gave me the flexibility to do my work on my schedule which allowed me to continue my weight training and meal schedule with David. Speaking of David, we realized that our relationship worked best as a daddy/son, without any romantic interests between the two of us. We continued to have incredible sexual escapades but knew that we weren’t cut out for romance in our relationship. Besides, David was a complete top with zero interest or desire to ever bottom and I was versatile and wanted to have the opportunity to be inside of my lover from time to time. Our bond as a daddy/son was our strength and we thrived in supporting each other in those roles. He continued to train me daily and be my driver (out of choice, not out of necessity), plus support me at home doing chores around the house wherever needed. Interestingly, he and Texas State Trooper, Tony Huang, have become boyfriends and almost inseparable after that night we met 6 months ago. Officer Huang is over every night after his shift, and I’m usually woken up to his moans as David is driving his club cock into that tight little muscled ass. When a total top and a total bottom meet, the pieces fit together like peanut butter and jelly. When they are together, they literally cannot keep their hands off each other, it’s adorable. While I don’t have a boyfriend, I do have a lot of regular fuck buddies. And I mean a whole lot! Once the initial Superdrive wore off, my sex drive settled back to where I would cum about 3-5 times per day. And when word got out of my stamina and size, boys were lining up to let daddy pound their holes. Add to it another large group of tops and versatile studs who liked pumping my muscle ass and my sex life had never been better. Number one on that list is Bodybuilder Nick. After that complete exhaustive fuckdown after my first booster, he came jumping back like a little puppy begging for more treats. As David says, ``that big boy loves to get daddy fucked!” and he is an insatiable power-bottom who can take all I can give him. We realized that I did give him a size boost during my Superdrive period as we repeated the second booster with a 10-hour marathon of me flooding his manhole and again he put on 15 pounds of mass. Unfortunately, though, the size gain was only temporary and wore off after about a week both times. I get the sense sometimes that Nick wants something more than just sex, but I’ve kept him at a distance because I just don’t have the time or capacity to devote to someone right now. Maybe in a couple of years once I’m finished with the MG project and my life becomes more settled, then I can focus on that. But for now I’m just focusing on my workouts, enjoying the muscle growth and all the extra benefits I’m experiencing as part of this incredible project. Tomorrow is my 3rd quarter booster for year one marking 9 months since my original procedure and I’m still amazed at my growth. I’m now 5’11.5” tall (+1.5”) and weigh 258 pounds (+38#), my chest is 49” (+5”) and my waist tightened from 34” to 33” (-1”). My arms and calves both just hit the 19.5” mark (+2”) and I love to flex these big guns in every mirror I pass. My quads were always my weakest body part before, but they have exploded and are just shy of the 30” mark at 29” (+5.5”). My hands and feet continue to grow and I’m now wearing size 12.5 US shoes (+1.5). My almost constant rock-hard cock hasn’t gotten any thicker, but it has gotten longer at 8-¾” (+2”), but I tell everyone it is 9” (LOL). I can’t wait for this weekend’s Superdrive Party, which is what the boys now call the weekend after my boosters, it is going to be amazing! We learned from the previous two booster weekends that we need a couple of power-bottoms for the first day and lots of tops for the second! David and Nick have spent the last month planning the big event with a special curated guest list. Nick, of course, being the primary power-bottom on day 1 and David the super-top on day 2. Terry Huang is closing his garage for the weekend and letting us use his loft playroom for a nonstop 2-day orgy of muscles, man-ass, and man-meat! I can’t wait! David and I just got home about an hour ago from the gym and as typical we both stripped down to our jocks and I headed up to my home office on the 2nd floor of the townhouse to do some work. Turns out my primary work project got postponed for three weeks which freed up this time for me to finally write some updates in this journal. Bang! Bang! Bang! Someone was pounding on the front door. I waited to hear David saying he’s got it, but nothing. Bang! Bang! Bang! The pounding continued. Frustrated, I jumped up and headed downstairs wondering where David disappeared to and why was this fucking idiot - Bang! Bang! Bang! - pounding on my door. No David in sight, he must’ve slipped out to run an errand and I didn’t hear him say goodbye. Bang! Bang! Bang! “I’m coming, hold on!” I yelled towards the front door, still surprised at how much deeper my voice had become over these past few months. I flipped the deadbolt and threw open the door ready to curse out the fucker who was banging down my door. The handsome young man took a step back and his mouth fell open and his eyes got big. He and his partner, standing a few steps behind him, were both dressed in tight white t-shirts and jeans with a Superior Service logo on the right pec. They were both Latino, late 20’s or early 30’s and built! Not from years in the gym sculpting their muscles with weights, nope, these studs were built from lifting heavy furniture and crates, combined with years of hard, physical labor. I then realized I was standing almost naked in my sweaty jock with my always hard cock barely contained in the custom fit pouch. Fuck it, I was pissed at the interruption and just stood my ground. “What do you want?” I barked in my deepest voice. “I’m suu, su, sorry, Sir. I didn’t mean to bother you, but we have a delivery for this address and since there were no cars in the drive, I wanted to make sure that no one was at home before I left. I rang the doorbell several times, but I don't think it is working.” The young man spoke with a slight accent, clearly nervous and judging by the way his eyes were eating me up and the bulge expanded in his tight jeans, very turned on. Realizing I was being a jerk for no reason, I said, “I’m sorry, I just got in from the gym and was about to hit the shower. Come on in guys and let’s get this sorted out and so I’m not standing out here showing my dick and ass to the neighborhood.” I stepped back, ushered the young studs in and then closed the door. “I’m Juan with Superior Service and this is my helper, Luis, we are here to deliver and set up your custom king size bed.” Juan said as he handed me the tablet with the shipping invoice information for me to review, all the while their eyes were locked in on my jock. He pushed back his long curly black hair and I noted how handsome he was. Juan was the older of the two, around 5’8’’ and around 200 pounds of solid muscle. I reached out my hand and gave him a firm handshake enjoying the feel of his calloused, strong hand in mine. “I’m Jason, and again sorry for snapping at you guys. Oh Yea, the bed, I forgot that it was being delivered today.” I then reached over to Luis and shook his hand, his hands were even rougher, and his handshake was stronger as he tried to outmuscle me in that young buck, macho way. Luis was in his late 20’s, same height as Juan but had about 20 more pounds of beef on him. “Of course, let me show you where it is going to be set up.” I said releasing my grip, “but first let me find some shorts to throw on.” As we all looked down at my huge 9-inch fat cock tenting out the stretched sweaty jock. “That’s Ok Sir, if I was built like you, I don’t think I would ever wear clothes.” Juan said with a smile. “Are you a bodybuilder? You’re so big!” “Nah, I’ve never competed. Plus, I can’t really hide this big dick in one of those tiny little posing suits those guys have to wear.” I replied as I wrapped my big paw around the base of my meat. Juan visibly gulped. I turned quickly and headed up the stairs, “follow me.” I intentionally stopped short at the top of the stairs letting the studs get a close-up view from their lower steps of my exposed muscle ass framed by my jock straps as I took an extra few seconds to flip on the light switch to the upstairs hallway. I then took a right to the recently emptied master bedroom and said, “here we go, in here and I want it up against this back wall. Just be careful with the mirrors.” as I pointed to the wall of mirrors to my left and on the ceiling. My exposed pit sent out a wave of musk as I raised my arm to indicate the upper mirrors. The intended effect hit them both like a wave and I watched as the urge to orgasm began to build. I lowered my arm quickly and hit a full most muscular pose in the mirrors. “Damn, maybe I should think about competing, I’m so fucking massive!” I said in a joking, cocky bro kind of way. I hit the pose again and smiled over at the young delivery guys with their mouths open in a silent expression of awe. I broke off the flex and said, “I could do this all day but let me get out of the way and let you guys get to work on installing this bedroom furniture. “How long do you think it will take?” I asked Juan as I popped my hairy pecs. His eyes watching my thick muscles jump up and down, he took a moment, regained himself and replied, “Sir, it should take less than an hour to unload, assemble, and install the furniture.” As I was walking out of the room, I said, “Great, let me know if you need anything, I’m going to grab my phone and then hit the showers.” They both replied in unison, “Yes, Sir.” I went to the office and grabbed my phone and then went back to the master bathroom and intentionally left the door fully open and turned on the shower and quickly dropped my sweaty jock to the center of the floor. As I stood up and turned facing the sink and mirror, my fat cock smacked my 6-pack abs and stood at the full and upright position. Just then, the delivery studs walked into the room with their toolboxes, and I could see in my peripheral vision they were checking out my erect cock. This game continued as I faked looking and responding to items on my phone before I finally stepped into the glass doored shower stall which had a direct line of sight to the master bedroom. I showered and soaped up my pumped body with the guys going up and down the stairs with equipment, boxes, and furniture pieces, always sneaking looks. As I finished drying off in the walk-in closet and threw the towel in the laundry chute, Luis tapped on the open door, his sweaty body filling the width of the door frame as his white t-shirt was now clear and molded to his body, wet with sweat from all the lifting, climbing stairs, and building furniture. “We’ve finished Papi, I mean Sir, if you’d like to take a look?” I smirked at the slipup and thought, another hot young stud with daddy issues. “Sure thing,” I grabbed some shorts to put on, but Luis said, “You’re not going to need those” and motioned for me to come on back through the bathroom to the bedroom. Luis licked his full lips as he stared at my throbbing dick. I guess I should backup and explain that this was not some ordinary bedroom furniture that I purchased. I had decided that with my predictive muscular growth over the next few years that I needed a sturdier bed and I landed on a steel caged bed that I purchased from a BDSM furniture supplier. It was a solid four poster style with an adjustable sling option and built-in restraints with a lot of other fun features. As I walked into the room, Juan was completely naked, gagged, and strapped into the sling which extended out at the end of the bed. “I thought you might want to test it out, so I tied up this little bitchboy for you to use, Sir.” Luis said from behind as he was removing his sweaty t-shirt and jeans. Luis had a thick, uncut cock framed with an untamed black bush of hair. He was a little bit longer than me at 9.5” and I couldn’t resist dropping to my knees and savoring his Columbian cock! His sweaty crotch gave off a strong, manly scent as I deep throated that uncut sausage. After getting him soaked with spit, I said, “now let’s tag team this little pig and make him squeal!” We spent the next few hours, with the addition of David when he returned, to triple teaming Juan in the sling. At one point after we had released Juan from the sling and tied him up in the bed, Luis and I double penetrated his hole and that set me off to an incredible orgasm feeling the thrusting of Luis’ meat against mine inside of that tight ass. The night ended with all four of us dog-piled in the new bed, sweaty, cum-soaked, and exhausted. The delivery drivers got a big tip when I sent them on their way the next morning, Superior Service indeed!
    15 points
  45. Chapter 9 - The Bodybuilder Nick was an incredible sight to behold and normally I would have taken the time to savor the unreal beauty of this muscular beast positioned to serve, but the Superdrive was still in control and all I could do was dive right in! Don’t get me wrong, the Huang Twins were amazing with their 185-pound ripped bodies that were ultra-flexible and could be molded and manhandled in any imaginable way possible. But Nick was a formidable monster and one of the largest men in Texas who had been bulking up in his offseason since our last encounter and was now a mountain of muscle weighing in at 308 pounds! He had also let his natural body hair grow out and had sexy light fur on his legs and arms, with a light covering over his monumental ass. David grabbed the giant glutes and parted the way as I aimed my cock towards his hairy manhole. He was already lubed and ready, so I easily slammed every inch down in his tight cave until my balls smacked against him. There was no give in Nick’s body as I crashed into him, he was planted like a muscled tank and didn’t move an inch as I rammed in him as hard as I could. Nick began squeezing his ass muscles in time with my strokes, tightening his hole and rippling his glutes as I fully entered and releasing on the pull back out. The musclefuck went on and on with David standing to our left enjoying the show and slowly stroking his club. I couldn’t believe I was fucking this enormous bodybuilder! It took me about 45 minutes of constant assault before another orgasm took hold and I drowned that muscle-hole with my load. “My turn,” David insisted as he tried to motion me to pull out. I KEPT FUCKING! “Not yet, son, I gotta keep pounding this incredible, gigantic ass!” I refused. David then moved to the front and let Nick suck and stroke his colossal club cock. Nick was still planted firmly to the ground; the strength of this stud was impressive and hot as fuck. The globes of his glutes gave way to the tight waist which then shot out incredibly wide to his cobra lats, thick slabs of meat hanging thick on each side. His back also expanded upward due to the thickness of years of focused deadlifts and heavy rows. Sweat had accumulated on his back and ran in streams down the sides and toward his ass, gathering in a small puddle at the base of his tight, Christmas tree erector spinae muscles. His left fist now supported all his upper body weight and my pounding thrusts while his right hand was wrapped around the foot long club of David’s beautiful cock. “Yes daddy, own this ass, give me that fat cock, daddy!” Nick moaned in between swallowing David’s huge meat. I KEPT FUCKING! I told Nick I wanted him to flip over. We decided to move over to his oversized sectional sofa with Nick lying flat on his back with each of his 23” calves resting on my shoulders, my arms wrapped around the tree trunk quads as my cock plunged back into the warm, fuzzy hole. David then straddled Nick’s gigantic chest and slapped his dick on his pecs and began fucking the deep valley of his chest, David was bucking and moaning hard as he closed in quickly on his orgasm. With a loud groan David was stroking that huge club frantically as he shot out his cum as he completely drained his balls. David quickly rolled off and stretched out his 6’5’’ frame on the adjacent sectional, looking exhausted from the previous hours of sexual activity. The sight of the sweaty 308-pound, handsome bodybuilder submitting below me was almost literally quite breathtaking. Nick had raised both hands behind his head, his 23-1/2” guns semi flexed, and the hairy muscle pits were soaked with sweat. I reached out and played with the thick slabs of hairy muscle on his pecs and worked the pointy nipples causing him to moan in ecstasy. David’s residual cum had rolled into the cavern between his pecs and followed the hairy, happy trail down between each brick of his abs down to the well-worn jock which was soaked with several loads of Nick’s own muscle loads. I KEPT FUCKING! Not sure when it started, and I only realized it when I came out of it, but at some point I went into a mesmerized, hypnotic state where the only thought and focus was my thick cock and the piston thrusting motion and incredible feeling inside Nick’s muscle ass. As I came out of it, Nick was now lying flat face-down on the floor and I was still riding his hole on top of him. David must have gone to the bedroom and crashed on Nick’s bed. I don’t know if I had just cum or what broke me out of my state of mind, but I slowly stopped pumping and just collapsed on top and inside of this beautiful muscle-stud. Nick turned his head to the side and leaned back as we kissed. “That was amazing, daddy!” He said with a huge smile. “You are incredible!” I replied, my hands feeling the bowling ball sized delts and the traps so thick I could barely get my hands around them. I rolled off and sat on the floor with my back against the sofa, “I want you to stand up and flex for me, do your routine for me while I stroke this hard daddy dick.” Nick jumped up, grabbed his phone, activated his wireless speakers, and turned on his instrumental music that he used for his latest competition. He then returned to a spot 3 feet in front of me and began his posing routine planting each foot and standing in the bodybuilder ‘relaxed’ position. The bodybuilder slowly pointed each fist out and down, flexing his huge triceps with his abs tight and his monster quads screaming with striations and veins traveling over the huge terrain. He then raised both fists up and formed a jaw dropping double bicep pose, with each peak forming that envious double head. The lats flared into a ridiculous width and the sweat started to trickle from his hairy pits as he strained from the exertion. He was so massive in every way standing over me he looked unreal. “I’m so fucking pumped daddy! I feel like I’ve been lifting for hours, this is crazy!” Nick then turned to the left side and began to do a side triceps pose but he missed grabbing his arm from behind his back. He tried again and missed again. “I’m so fucking pumped daddy I can’t reach it! This is crazy!” Nick then stopped and went racing down the hall. Two minutes later he came back with his digital scales and plops it on the floor. “I can’t believe this daddy...I don’t know what’s happening,” Nick said with a little shock in his voice as he stepped on the digital scale. “I’ve gained 15 pounds since yesterday!” as the numbers blasted out 324 pounds. I laughed and said, “it’s all that muscle daddy cum I’ve been pounding into you for the last 6 hours!” He laughed but then we both stopped and looked at each other wondering could that be true? Did my loaded man-juice really juice him up? “All I know is I need all 324 pounds of my muscle stud riding this dick, right now!” I commanded as I motioned for Nick to come over and ride my throbbing meat. Nick was one of the best at riding cock. Typically, this is my least favorite position when I’m fucking a stud, I like to be in control and driving my dick in hard. But Nick has a way of constantly changing his rhythm, the depth, the tightness, it’s difficult to explain but the sensations he causes on my cock caused me to shoot another massive load within 15 minutes. I then put him in the oversized chair and started slamming hard into that gigantic, muscled ass. The hypnotic trance came over me again and I lost all focus except for my dick in that tight hairy hole. A little after 8 pm, David snapped me out of my trance as I was still pumping into Nick. David stood with protein shakes for both of us in hand. I pulled out of Nick’s warm and wet hole still rock hard and downed the giant container. “Damn daddy, you’ve been fucking for over 16 hours, and you’re still rock hard and ready to go!” David said in amazement. “Yep, I’m still horned up, but I don’t have that Super drive to only fuck now, I think I’m ready for my hole to be stuffed with your big club cock!” “Looks like you’ve worn Nick out finally,” David said to the exhausted but still awake bodybuilder under me. Nick smiled but could barely move a muscle. David suggested we head home and let Nick get some rest. Nick barely was able to raise his head to kiss me goodbye once we were dressed and ready to head home. “We need some food daddy; can we hold off on fucking until later tonight?” David asked as we got into the car heading home “Sure son, I can entertain myself until you’re ready.” I said, as I dropped my shorts and began stroking my throbbing thick cock with both hands. “Oh, and invite over some of your top buds, I feel like my hole is going to need an all-night gang bang!”
    15 points
  46. Four “Mate - why do you keep changing your t-shirt?” Shaun asks me from his bed. “I don’t!” I cry, my voice sounding weird and defensive. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m not feeling this tight white t-shirt I’m wearing. At all. Shaun laughs. “That’s, like, the third one you’ve tried on!” I groan, open up my wardrobe and grab my favourite black Montgomery University hoodie, which I’m kind of hoping won’t fit by the end of term. It’s already pretty small so I’ll probably have to buy a new one soon. Maybe next time I’ll go for red. “Anyone would think you’ve got a fucking date!” Shaun jokes. I pick up my phone and check the time. Shit - I’ve got to leave now otherwise I’ll be late. I say bye to my roommate who seems intent on annoying the fuck out of me this morning and head to Hanson Hall. I’ve got a meeting with Dave Walker to go over my training plan. For some reason, my stomach clenches with nerves as I open the door to the classroom. “All right, Deano?” Walker says when he sees me. I say all right back, and try and offer up a smile to the tank in the red Montgomery hoodie sitting next to him. Maybe I’ll go for a blue one instead. “I don’t think you two have formally met yet, have you?” “All right, mate?” Adam says to me, standing up and shaking my hand. This confident but slightly shy smile on his face, which (not gonna lie) is even better looking close up. I feel slightly overwhelmed at just how BIG this guy is. His frame is just so thick. I say all right back to him and we both sit down. Adam’s biting his lip, this slightly awkward expression on his face. I guess that encounter WAS kind of awkward. The way it sometimes is with two people who don’t really know each other. “We’re just waiting for Seth,” Walker says. I look at him confused, not having a clue who Seth is. “Oh - Ozzie,” he clarifies. Oh for FUCK’S sake. Not that bloody dickhead. “That boy’s not exactly known for his punctuality!” Walker says. Adam makes eye contact with me and gives me a little smirk. I THINK I smile back. But I can’t really say for sure. “As Johnny said yesterday, none of you lads will be training together - but every now and then I’ll do joint catch ups with the both of you.” I nod, thinking fan-fuckin-tastic. Just as the dickhead himself walks into the classroom. But as he does, my previously negative thoughts seem to subside. Because I can’t help but be impressed with the sheer size of the guy. He may only be about an inch or two taller than me, but he makes me feel small. The meat on this lad’s frame. And he’s only a year older than me. He’s got these big, wide shoulders. It’s hard not to think about all of the muscle that’s hiding under the same black tracksuit he was wearing yesterday. He’s not, like, Adam Lloyd levels of good looking or anything, but he’s not exactly unattractive. He’s got these big brown eyes that almost seem too big for his face. And this bad boy quality to his looks. But there’s a sort of boyish cuteness there too. He’s probably the type of lad who can shag any girl he wants (without being particularly nice to them). He’s wearing a black round earring (bigger than mine) which stretches his ear slightly which is actually pretty cool. I’m still not sure about that mohawk though. It’s kind of a twatty haircut. And now I’m rolling my tongue around the inside of my mouth to hide my smirk because I’m suddenly wondering what my dad would have to say about Ozzie/Seth’s haircut. “Yo!” he casually says to the room in his Welsh accent as he sits next to me. I can’t help noticing how veiny his hands are. But, “Yo”? Fucking “Yo”? Who says that? “You better not be late for the flight to Chicago, Seth,” Walker teases. “We won’t think twice about going without you.” He pulls an amused face and smirks. I suddenly want to know where this Ozzie thing comes from. “Anyway - this is Deano. I know you’ve met Adam before.” He turns to me. “All right, Deano?” he says with this weird smirk on his face which kind of unnerves me. His eyes stay on me for way longer than needed. Why is he just looking at me like that? Like he was during our induction yesterday. Is he trying to intimidate me? I say all right back, slightly annoyed and weirded out. And thinking that maybe my early impression of this guy was right. That he actually IS a bit of a dickhead. Walker goes through our training programmes. We’ll each be training with him four times a week, including a Saturday for me. Which kinda sucks. And means I won’t be able to go drinking with the lads at the SU bar on Friday nights. Although I shouldn’t really be drinking anyway if we’re training. And it’s only for three months. Plus - it will be worth it. Apparently, Adam will be helping out for around half of the sessions. As Walker tells us this, Adam looks me in the eye and offers up a little smile. The few times I glance over at Ozzie, he looks completely unbothered by the whole thing. Slumped in his chair and chewing on gum. He only speaks up when Walker asks us if we have any questions. “Will we get to meet the pros at the McCarthy?” When Walker says yes, a jolt of excitement goes through me. I glance over at Ozzie who gives me an excited smirk and I actually feel a moment of solidarity with him. “After the press conference on the Friday, they’ll be a special meet and greet for us. We’ll be given about twenty or so minutes to introduce ourselves and talk to the competitors. And you’ll be backstage with them on the Saturday.” Fucking. Hell. Backstage at one of the biggest bodybuilding shows on the planet with some of the best pros in the business. All jacked and shredded and pumping up in their posing trunks. Including Chris “Freaky Peaks” Jackson and Felix King. I find myself starting to swell at that thought. “No doubt some of the bodybuilders will be friendlier than others. You know how it goes!” “And the guest posing …,” Ozzie begins, leaning forward and giving me a good shot of his wide back and thick lats bulging underneath his black tracksuit jacket. “Any rules on how we pose, like?” What the fuck kind of question is that? Walker narrows his eyes at him. “You mean can you be as cocky and loud as you normally are?” Oh for fuck’s sake. Ozzie’s mouth erupts into this big, almost cocky grin. He turns to me and his smile suddenly falters. Probably because I’m not smiling back. “Yes, Ozzie!” Walker groans. “Feel free to be as loud as you like! If you REALLY feel it’s necessary.” Walker looks at me and playfully rolls his eyes. “You gotta have fun on stage, sir!” Ozzie argues. “Bet you get cocky when you’re posing, don’t you, Deano?” “Ummm …,” I look from Adam, who gives me a little smirk, to Walker. “I don’t actually.” Ozzie rolls his eyes. “Boring!” he says, lazily. I feel a pinch of anger. “Actually, I find all of that stuff a bit tacky!” I say. Ozzie’s mouth curls into this big, surprised smirk. Like he’s amused by what I just said. Maybe even a little bit impressed. Adam’s smirking too. Walker clears his throat in response to the tension. “Anyway! Any more questions, lads?” “Erm … do we get our own rooms in Chicago?” I ask. “Good question. There are four rooms for you guys. So four of you will have to share. And two of you will have your own room. You guys can talk it out amongst yourselves.” “I’m having my own room!” Ozzie says matter-of-factly, leaning back in his chair. Ugh. This guy is starting to annoy me more and more. Thank God I’m not training with him. I just have to put up with him for the occasional meeting. Oh - and for three days at the McCarthy Classic. Not that I’ll exactly be hanging around with him. Walker is just looking at Ozzie as if he’s momentarily lost for words. “Well … you guys can sort that out amongst yourselves. Deano - I know you’re mates with Ashley and Eric so it’s up to you guys who wants to share.” “Yeeeah - but I’m not friends with Keiran,” Ozzie says. There’s a strange sort of urgency in the tone of his voice. I suddenly remember Keiran and Connell smirking and rolling their eyes at each other when Ozzie walked in late to the induction yesterday. Ozzie points a thumb at me. “I’d rather share with Deano, like.” What the - I almost fucking CHOKE! “And I’m sure Deano would LOVE that!” Walker says sarcastically. I look at Adam who bites his lip gently and smirks at me. It’s not like a sly smirk though. But when I look at Ozzie, he doesn’t look impressed. He even seems a little bit bothered by Walker’s comment. Which surprises me. Unless I’m just completely misreading things. Ozzie is a bit quiet for the rest of the meeting after that. He doesn’t even say goodbye when it’s over. I end up walking out at the same time as Walker and Adam. I say an awkward bye to both of them at the door and head back to my dorm room in Johnson Hall. But tank sized Adam in his bright red Montgomery hoodie starts walking in the same direction and now I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do. I turn to look at him and he nods and half-smiles at me in this slightly awkward way. “You been to the States before then, Deano?” he asks, stepping in line with me. Okay - so this is happening. “Erm. No. Never!” I say, half wanting to get away from him and the awkwardness of this situation and half wanting to stay and talk to him. I ask the question back and he tells me he’s been to Florida once on a family holiday. And he apparently also went to New York last summer. “So … how come you didn’t compete at the end of term bodybuilding shows last year?” My chest tightens at that question. “Oh, erm … I didn’t apply in the second term.” Obviously, that's a lie. But I’m not exactly gonna tell him that I couldn’t compete because I got suspended for outing two gay guys in my class over Facebook. “Oh right,” Adam says, surprised. “That’s a shame.” He seems so genuine. Like he’s a genuinely nice guy. I can’t lie - it’s pretty endearing given how big he is. “You’re making up for it this year though!” he adds. I look over and we lock eyes and he gives me a little smile. One of those ones that seems a little shy. The right corner of his mouth curled up. Does this guy KNOW how hot he is? I mean - he must do, right? But he doesn’t act as if he does. Not like the ridiculously good looking bodybuilders I’ve met in the past. “Ozzie’s a bit of a character isn’t he?” Adam says. I look at him and we smirk at each other. I feel a flutter of something in my chest. “Where does his nickname come from?” I ask, feeling more confident. “Oh. His surname's Osman. Seth “Ozzie” Osman.” Osman, Why does that name sound familiar? Maybe I just remember it from the email last week telling us who got a place, even though I didn't pay that much attention to the names of the third-years. Or maybe he’s one of the dozen Montgomery students I’m following on Instagram but have never actually spoken to. “So … can I ask you a question?” Adam says, mysteriously. This ominous look on his face. What the fuck? I feel a bit nervous, but I don't know why. “Umm. Yeah?” He smirks. “Do you guys think I’m mad?” “Erm … how do you mean?” “For coming back here. To Montgomery!” “Oh.” I feel a surge of confidence. “Well …,” I say, pulling a little playful face. Adam laughs and my chest expands. “Cheeky bastard!” he teases. I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth to try and hide how much I’m smiling. “Nah. I think I get it,” I tell him. “Not wanting to compete straight away.” I look over at him. He’s got this smile on his face like he’s impressed. “So many guys rush into it after they graduate,” I say. “Exactly!” Adam says. “I dunno. Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing by coming back. It just seemed like a good gig.” We’re approaching my dorm room. I’m tempted to carry on walking straight past it. Just so I can carry on talking to Adam. Is that the most stupid thing you’ve ever heard? “And … well, I DID love it here when I was a student.” I nod. I bet Adam was a model student for three years straight. Never doing anything wrong. Never jumping on top of one of his classmates while they were both only wearing their posing trunks and kissing him. Never outing him and his boyfriend to the whole university and getting suspended for it. “Who was your favourite lecturer?” I ask Adam, surprised at how easy I’m finding talking to him. Especially as this time last week I got nervous just making eye contact with him. “That’s easy!” he replies, animatedly. I look over at him, finding it hard not to smile. He looks at me like the answer should be obvious. “Johnny Hoxton!” I nod and bite my lip, suddenly remembering that the last two guys I was into pretty much worshipped Johnny as well. (If you don’t count Harry the Bouncer.) Adam’s giving me a confused look. He’s smirking too though. “Don’t tell me you don’t like Johnny!” “No, I do,” I protest. “I’m just … not sure he’s always liked me,” I confess. My stomach clenches. Why the fuck am I telling him this? Adam’s looking at me with his eyebrows furrowed. “Why?!” Because he spent most of the first year thinking I was a loud-mouthed twat. Because I was constantly digging at his star pupil Woody. Because he fucking suspended me in the second term. I pull a face and shrug. Feeling awkward. And kind of regretting what I just said. “Nah!” Adam says. “It’s not possible.” Ummm. Okay? I don’t know what to say. I just give him a confused look. “What’s not to like?!” What the fuck? I look away from him, feeling kind of awkward but admittedly flattered. If only this guy knew the half of it. I’m even grateful that we’ve reached the door to my dorm room. “Ummm … this is me.” “I was just around the corner in my second year. Number seventeen.” There’s a slight awkwardness. I don’t really know how to say goodbye. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then,” Adam says. I feel an unexpected pinch of excitement. “Oh - are you in training with us tomorrow then?” The side of Adam’s mouth curls into an almost cheeky smirk. “Yep. And erm … don't forget your Digital Marketing and Social Media for Bodybuilders lecturer beforehand.” You fucking dickhead, Deano. Adam’s flashing me a big, friendly smile as he says bye and walks away, leaving me with this odd and unexpected warm feeling. Just before I open my dorm room door, I can’t help looking back at him. The rear of Adam’s huge frame is still in view. My eyes fall down from his wide back to his arse, which, just like everything else on his physique, is abnormally big. Thick, round orbs of glute muscle stretching the material of his trackies. I roll my tongue around the inside of my mouth and head into my room. Shaun’s not home. I jump on my bed, fire up my laptop and head to Instagram. I scroll down a few posts and then stop when I get to a picture which makes my heart jump into my throat. It’s a picture of Mitchell “The Machine” Murray with a big “CONFIRMED” written across it. Yep. Mitchell Murray has been confirmed as one of the pros to compete at the McCarthy Classic. Fuck. Just … fuck. The Machine is a Canadian bodybuilder. He’s definitely one of my favourite pros from the past couple of years. He’s in his mid to late twenties and only turned pro a few years ago, but the guy’s a fucking freak. Shocking size. Crazy vascularity, particularly in the legs. They almost border on grotesque. He’s good looking too. He kind of looks like a bodybuilding version of Chris Pratt. If he were a bodybuilder here at Montgomery, or say, a personal trainer at my dad’s gym, I’m pretty sure I’d be obsessing over him. Regularly checking his Instagram. Lying on my bed with my own arm wrapped around myself, fantasising that it belonged to him. You know. That sort of thing. It’s fucking crazy to think that I’m not only going to get to see that physique in competition, but I’m going to be backstage with him AND I’m going to get to meet him properly after the press conference thing Walker was talking about earlier. Potentially actually talk to Mitchell “The Machine” Murray. What the fuck am I gonna say to him? Still in Instagram, I drag the cursor to the search bar and do what I visited the site for in the first place. I type in a name. “Seth Osman”. His profile comes up straight away. I want to know if he’s following me. Or if his profile looks familiar. Osman. I definitely know that surname. I guess if I’m being honest, I’m kind of curious to check out his profile in general. Adam wasn’t wrong earlier - the guy IS a fucking character. I brace myself for the content on his profile, but then - wait - what? - I’m completely taken aback when in place of pictures and videos are the words “This account is private”. What the fuck? Why would a guy as confident as Ozzie (not to mention cocky on stage) hide his Instagram profile from public view? It doesn’t make any sense. I go back to my main feed. And as I do, I start to wonder whether Adam jug-eared, massive-arsed Lloyd has a profile. Who am I kidding? Of COURSE Adam has a profile. What bodybuilder doesn’t? I could so easily look. I’m gonna be training with him. We’re going to be going to America together in a few months. Following each other on Instagram is inevitable. At some point, I’ll see his profile. I know that. Just … not now. Even though I’ve changed. Even though this guy isn’t Sebastian Wood. And he certainly isn’t Ryan North. But no. I’m not checking Adam Lloyd’s profile. I’m not going back to that place. And I’m not going to be that person. Not again.
    15 points
  47. Chapter 13 - The Coach I awoke after my typical two hours of sleep, spread eagle on the bed in the private jet, completely naked and covered in several huge loads of dried cum in my thick body hair. After the great news, I had decided to throw on some pump room videos of the recent Mr. O contest and pump out a few of my massive loads. I looked down at my always raging big dick which is always ready and started to go another round, but first I needed to take a piss. I made my way to the back of the darkened jet to the lavatory and side squeezed my massive body into the tight space leaving the door open to help accommodate my extra wide body. As I pointed my steel pole down towards the toilet, struggling to keep my balance and get my aim right before letting it loose; I saw a slight movement to my right and I glanced over toward the attendant’s bunk. Instead of the usual closed curtain, the attendant was lying there staring wide eyed and open mouthed at the giant muscle freak crammed into the sardine can. He jumped out of the bunk and was on his knees, “Please Sir, use me as Your urinal!” he begged. I smirked to myself, I knew he was a fucking piss pig! I happily freed myself from the tight cell and straddled the piss hole kneeling before me. I aimed my fat head into its open mouth and released the jet stream of my piss. Once my bladder was finally emptied, I gave my big hog a few shakes, then gave the urinal pig a slap with my hard meat in gratitude, turned and headed back to my bed. An hour before landing, breakfast was served and not a word was mentioned about our previous encounter. While eating, I was messaging David arranging for him to meet me at the airport and I realized that I couldn’t do this trip to Vegas without my boy. I called Eddie and made my request and about 15 minutes later, he messaged me with ‘approved for David to Vegas’. A week later, David and I were boarding the private jet for our trip and it was fun to watch him as we settled into the luxurious cabin. About an hour into our flight he exclaimed, “Now this is the life!” as we drank our mimosas, stretched out in our leather reclining seats wearing nothing but our usual, tattered jockstraps watching bodybuilding videos on the big screen. I think he was even more excited than I was to work with the Coach, he had bought a new laptop that converted to a tablet so he could document everything and learn from one of the best in the business. The Coach had requested that our first consultation be at his home and he invited us over later that afternoon for a cookout and pool party with a few of his clients, friends, and family. Once we got settled in the spectacular Penthouse, I showered to make sure my pits wouldn’t trigger the Coach or any of his guests. Unlike Big John, I had decided against wearing the Doctor’s sweat blocker as I typically loved my musky scent and the effect it had on the men around me and since most of my interactions were very social in nature this worked for me. I also realized that keeping some wet wipes handy was a good thing for a quick cleaning before an unexpected and potentially embarrassing situation occurred. Coach greeted us at the door with a huge smile, friendly handshake and bro-hug. He was stunningly handsome in person, and I thought back to all the times I had jerked off in the 90’s and early 00’s to his masculine face and beautiful muscular body. He was a few years older than me but looked great for his age, still in incredible shape. His Slavic jawline, high cheekbones and big smile on his muscular frame made him one hot muscle Daddy I’d Like to Fuck! I snapped out of my fantasy and reminded myself I was here on a mission to learn from the best. After a few minutes of initial conversation, Coach said, “Let’s go down to the basement and take a look at what we are working with.” nodding at my body. His basement was a full gym with one area designed for a posing area with mirrors all around and angled above. “Go ahead and strip down to your underwear and stand over there in the box.” Coach instructed, pointing to a marking in the center of the posing area. “I’m just wearing a jockstrap under my trunks, is that ok?” I replied. “Sure, I’ve seen way too many guys’ naked asses in my life, one more is not going to kill me!” Coach laughed. “Damn, and you’ve never been on a stage and competed?” Coach asked as he slowly walked around me admiring my nearly naked body as I stood in the center of the mirrored space. “No Sir, I just got serious about getting bigger and working out a few years ago. Never really wanted to compete, as my dream is to get as massive as I can be. I want to be a freak! Plus, I don’t think I can hide this big penis in any of those tiny little posing trunks you guys’ wear.” Coach smirked and said, “yea, that could be a distraction, but I think I have a solution for that. You’re not the only well-endowed bodybuilder to be on a stage. Ok, let’s go through a few poses and if I call them out do you know how to do them?” Coach realized quickly that my knowledge was very limited, and he ended up calling down one of his bodybuilders to lead me through the compulsory poses. The bodybuilder was none other than the 7-time Olympian 212# Champion that I easily recognized when he came down the stairs wearing nothing but a speedo! I glanced over at David who was trying to conceal his foot-long club cock and smiled. We had both jerked off to his posing videos earlier that morning in the private jet talking about how we would love to tag-team him! My dick was already on full mast and there was no hiding it in my worn-out jock as I stood under the spotlight. As we began again, Coach kept next to me, adjusting the position of my hands or elbow or legs as we went through the eight poses with the Champ a few steps in front of me as I tried to mimic his movements. Thankfully, there were 4 large fans in the upper corners of the posing space which kept me from breaking out into a full sweat and dissipated my musky scent. After an hour, every muscle on my body was pumped from the constant flexing. Coach and the Champ were now standing over to the side and looking me over when Coach said, “Can you believe this guy, he has never set foot on a stage and could probably win the O next year!” The Champ replied in his English accent, “bloody fuckin’ hell, he’s amazing, size, symmetry, ripped...he looks like he is 3 weeks away from competition and you’re telling me he just walked in off the street like this! No coaching, no prep, Un-fuckin-real!” “Yep, two ninety-two and at six percent. We get these poses down and get him a routine and he could get his Pro card at the New York in a couple of weeks”. I then jumped in, “Thanks Coach, I really appreciate y’alls compliments and everything, but I really have zero desire in competing. I just want to grow huge and be the freakiest bodybuilder on the planet!” I guess he finally understood, or he remembered the job he was hired to do and stopped dreaming of coaching another bodybuilding champion; after a few minutes, Coach replied, “OK, we’ll get started at 6 am tomorrow at the Dragon. Get ready for 4 weeks of hell!” As we were driving up to the Dragon’s Lair Gym on the final day of this grueling month-long journey, I thought about the last four weeks and the non-stop brutal boot camp of bodybuilding that Coach had put me through. There were no rest days and every single day I was at the gym at 6 am and didn’t leave until at least 10 pm that night at the earliest. Sixteen plus hours that started with stretching, followed by an hour of cardio or yoga, meal 2, brief rest, one hour of posing practice, more stretching, meal 3, brief rest, two hours of the most intense workouts I had ever experienced in my life, meal 4, brief rest, another hour of posing, meal 5, brief rest, another hour of crazy hard training, meal 6, brief rest, ninety minute massage, and finally posing again which could last for an hour or two. My body met every challenge and I loved it! Coach threw everything at me during our training, every set was done to muscle failure, but he swapped up the routines, the weights, the rep ranges, always keeping my muscles guessing. Coach marveled at my fast recovery and adjusted the workload even more. I think he was trying to completely break me down, but I kept rising. Every muscle in my body became more dense and fuller, I was in a state of being constantly pumped 24 hours a day and became hyper aware of how to control and flex each muscle. I was a walking granite statue of muscles! I had succumbed to wearing the scent-blockers that Dr. Malik had given me under my t-shirt and sweatshirts that I wore each day. Even with the blockers, I was constantly showering and cleaning my pits at every break to control any misfires from Coach or the constant number of massive bodybuilders he brought into train with me. When I got back to the Penthouse each evening there would be a power-bottom muscle stud there waiting to service my huge throbbing cock and bloated cum-filled balls. Bodybuilder Nick was flown in one weekend, the Huang Twins another, and sexy Sven this past weekend. I would fuck from midnight to three am every night. Then one of the servants would escort the stud-bottom(s) out of my bedroom and I would then sleep for two hours before repeating it all again with a 5-am alarm and my first meal of the day. As I walked up to the gym doors for my final day in bootcamp, it dawned on me that the usually full parking lot was relatively empty and then I saw the sign on the door, ‘closed for private event until 3 pm’. Coach was already inside and opened the locked door for me and David. “Your schedule is a little different today.” he began, “the morning will be the same but instead of your weight training workout we will do a full body pump training. You’ll then head over to the posing room and Mr. Blank will be there. (Of course, he said The Client’s last name but due to my non-disclosure requirements I can’t repeat his real name in my journal). That brought a smile to my face. I was excited to show off my muscles and my posing routine to the Client. Hearing this news, I didn’t put on the sweat blockers after my stretching session like I typically did. I wanted to give the Client the full-blown experience, pun intended. Why I thought the full body pump training would be easy with Coach was stupid because nothing was easy with him. At the end of the hour my sweatshirt and tights were soaked with sweat. The Coach, knowing my superpower, had kept his distance as he guided me through the routines, but I couldn’t help notice the imprint of his fat, hard, uncut dick in his training pants. When we finished, he said, “Jason, it has been a pleasure training you and I’ll be in contact with David with your continued routines and we’ll check-in on Skype every week.” Coach must have seen the quizzical look on my face, “Oh, your contract was extended and paid for me to continue coaching you for the next 12 months. Now, go get stripped down to that jock and go show off for our Boss the meat he bought!” I laughed at Coach’s joke, fist bumped him, and thanked him for all he had done before heading over to the posing room. As I walked into the mirrored room, the Client was already seated in a leather chair in the far corner of the room that had been brought in along with a side table. He was impeccably dressed even in casual athletic gear which reflected his personal style and significant wealth. He was handsome in an elegant, sophisticated manner and looked like he was about to be photographed for the cover of a wine enthusiast magazine. At 5’9’’ and a very fit 180 pounds, it struck me then how odd it was that this extremely wealthy, nice-looking man was single and was sitting here in front of me preparing to worship his massive muscle god! An announcer’s voice came over the speakers, “The contestant will step to the center of the stage for the compulsory round of poses.” Ah, so this is the fantasy scene, I was to provide a front row seat of a bodybuilder flexing at a bodybuilding contest. I nodded to the Client and then removed my sweatshirt, t-shirt, shoes, socks, and tights; then walked to the center of the room in my extremely tattered jockstrap that I had worn every day for the last month without washing. His mouth was agape as he took in the concrete beast now in front of him. I glanced at the mirror ahead and I was even taken aback at the sheer size of the muscle monster that I had become. While I had not gained a significant amount of weight, my body had hardened and become more defined, and the veins, while visible, were not at that freaky level that the great bodybuilders achieve on competition day. “Front Lat Spread” the announcer began the first of the eight compulsory poses. As I hit the pose flexing my barndoor wide Lats, tightening my abs, and hardening my thick quads, I glanced over at the Client who was staring intently and massaging his hard dick which was tenting up his athletic pants. I gave him a big smile and I felt great seeing the effect my colossal muscles were having on him. He then moaned loudly as I could see cum wetting his athletic pants as he shot his load. “Front Double Biceps.” As I relaxed then replanted both big feet, I flexed my quads and reached up to the sky before slowly bringing my elbows down then locking my arms in the classic power pose. I fucking loved this pose! It was the ultimate ‘look at me, look at how fucking huge I am’ Alpha-man pose! My eyes were locked on the hairy muscle god in the mirror as I grunted and squeezed my humongous guns and the double bicep head exploded even higher. My hard cock had stretched my jock to the near breaking point and the head was exploiting a small hole in the torn pouch and was about to escape free at any second as a rope of precum dripped from the throbbing cock-hole down to the floor below. I then heard the grunting sounds from the Client and took my eyes from my incredible image in the mirror over to his seat as I pumped my guns again. The Client was cumming hard, he had freed his considerable sized cock and was jerking it fast as cum was flying out and landing on the dark colored athletic jacket and pants. “Side Chest” I continued, turning to my left, dropping down to show off the calf, hammie, quad, and glute mass before grabbing my left wrist with my right hand and flexing into the pose. The Client was still mesmerized, his hand had stopped moving but his 7-inch cock was still standing straight up with a little bit of cum still leaking down the side. I squeezed my oversized pecs and held the flex feeling the full power as my chest expanded up and out. Bigger and thicker, my pecs kept pushing out as if they would never stop growing. More groans from the Client and more cum exploding from his dick. “Rear Lat Spread” I turned and then planted my left leg back, locked my wrists at my side then began expanding my lats out further and further until I finally reached full width. I knew my glutes were shredded hard and I glanced in the overhead mirror at my reflection of the rear view. Dayum, I’d fuck me! Look at that huge fuckin’ ass! I thought as I saw the deep striations of muscle framed by the jockstraps of my jumbo ass. More grunts from the Client and a single rope of cum shooting from his cock. “Rear Double Biceps” I relaxed, took a deep breath and planted my other foot to show off the diamond shaped calf as I slowly started the movements… “Please, please stop” the Client begged in a low voice, “I can’t, I can’t cum again, oh god, I can’t keep going, please, please stop.” I slowly turned with a big smile and faced the Client who was also smiling, and he said, “I feel like I’m about to pass out, oh wow, Jason, you are so incredible! I just, I can’t cum again,” He was kind of delirious and babbling now. I started to go over to him but thought better of it since my sweaty pits would probably put him into an orgasmic state. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, Sir.” I said as I took a step back. “What would you like for me to do next?” The Client took a few moments to regain his composure and used a towel on the small side table next to him to wipe up some of the cum from his clothes. “Jason, you are amazing and more than I could have ever hoped for, and I can’t believe what just happened. Just incredible! Thank you. We are done for this session, thank you.” There was a slight pause, and then he said, “I have only one request before you go, if you could leave me your jockstrap?” I smiled and said, “Of course, Sir.” then flipped both thumbs under the waistband and shoved the sweat-soaked, battered jock to the floor. I stepped out of it and turned, walked over to my pile of clothes, and picked them up, then walked naked out the door to the locker room.
    14 points
  48. Hello All, This is one I tried to write the same time last year for the Fourth of July but never finished. Now this year I have….still not finished it yet, but I feel I got if off to a good start and hope to have the conclusion up in the next couple of weeks or so. I just wanted to get it up before the Forth of July was over and it looks like I barely made it. As for the Forge I am having a some writer’s block with that one but I hope I will get part three up soon after I conclude this story. Swelling with Patriotism My friend Devon invited me out to the countryside this year for 4th of July. I normally see the fireworks down on the waterfront in the city, if I even go at all. Don’t get me wrong, I like an excuse for food or drinking as much as the next person but often it is just hot, crowded, and filled with overpriced vendors. Most of my family lived pretty far away from me now so there wasn’t family thing I could go to. He had been going his friends place out there for a couple of years now. He always seemed excited about it when it was coming up, almost weirdly so. The claustrophobia of the city was starting to get to me so I figured why not. Dev picked me up outside my apartment. He said I should wear something with a flag theme or at least red, white, and blue to “get in the spirit”. So I put on a red polo, some navy shorts, and a white belt. It looked preppy as hell, but it was all I really had to fit the theme. When I got in the car he laughed and in his best New England WASPy accent “Oh my! We must hurry to the country club or Mumsy and Dadsy will ever so irate!” To which I replied with an extension of my middle finger. “What do you want from me? This is all I had to fit the theme. Some of us don’t have a wardrobe that looks like an American flag exploded all over us.” He was decked out in a tank and shorts with the stars and stripes all over it. “The socks are a bit much.” “Where is your patriotic spirit Chris?” ‘ “Patriotism is fine but this borders on gaudy jingoism.” “Hey, the party my friend throws may change your mind. Him and his Marine buddies really go all out.” “Wait, Marines? Oh, I get now. I know why you want to go to this party.” His sheepish look confirmed it for me. Devon had a huge thing for military men, Marines especially. “How many are there going to be?” “30 to 40 of them usually.” “It’s like a buffet for you. I bet you snag at least one or two.” It was amazing how he did it. When I first came to the city as a fresh faced gay boy just out of the closet, we struck up friendship and he took me out to my first few gay bars. He could always spot them, especially before DADT stopped. They’d come from the nearby Marine base with the buzz cut and nervous air about them, worried they were going to get caught. He’d saunter on over, talk them up and 90% of the time would hit a home run. He wasn’t manipulative or anything, he just had a way of putting you at ease and under DADT a lot of these guys needed to be put at ease. His tight swimmers body with just the right amount hair probably helped too. “Yeah, there might be one or two.” He said it so weird, like it was an understatement. “Aren’t we confident?” “I have a good feeling. Besides, you might find one or two you may like. I know you don’t have the same thing for Marines that I do but there will be plenty of chiseled, bulging Marine bodies for you too.” He had me there. Muscle was my thing. Strength too. Like comic book level stuff. Big bulging tight bodies that could crush steel in their bare hands. I remember when Devon found the story I wrote for that website. I was so embarrassed, but I should have known better. He just laughed it off and said “Pretty hot. They should be in fatigues.” So predictable. “A little over the top on the size though.” He said. “And I’d be worried about breaking bones having sex with someone who could punch a hole in concrete.” Not that I didn’t like your everyday displays of strength. A Marine doing 200 push-ups straight in a row. I could get into that. After an hour we arrived at the place. It looked look like a big sprawling property with a spacious country home and even a barn, though I doubted it was much of a farm, just one of those big properties people buy for the space and scenery. “How big is this place?” I asked Devon. “Over 100 acres.” “Seems a little much for a party of 30 or 40.” “There will be other people, too. Besides they’ll need the room for the other festivities.” “Other festivities? You’re being mysterious today.” “Just trust me. Have I ever disappointed you before?” “No, never.” I couldn’t argue with him there. I owed some of the best times of my life to him. “Good, let’s go and meet the guys.” We went around to the back of the house and came upon the party. Some 80 odd people were there mingling with each other in one of the most over the top, decked out flag paraphernalia I had ever seen. Flags on banners. Little flags on the tables with flag table cloths. Various foods with flags on them or red white and blue themes. Flag clothing on everyone. Well, about half of everyone. The other half were clearly the Marines. Now, I know most Marines usually keep fit but these guys were some of the most perfect forms of the male body I have seen. Their bodies ranged from relatively small super ripped fitness models to heavyweight bodybuilders, though even the smallest of them couldn’t be less than 200 pounds and 5’10”. Instead of red white and blue they were all wearing camo pants with either tight grey tee’s or tanks with Marines emblazoned on the front or tight camo tee or tanks. They seemed to be tailor made to accentuate every bulge and sinew in their bodies. As I stared into the mass of dream men Devon laid his hand on my shoulder and said “You know what I want to hear.” “I should never doubt you.” I replied “One of these days you’ll remember that. Let me introduce you to some of…..” “Hey boy!” I turned around to see the source of the gruff, gravelly voice. Staring me in the face was the word “Marines” stretched tight across a pair of hard, succulent pecs. Looking up I saw the perfect vision of a jarhead. Clean shaven with a perfectly formed flattop of brown hair. A first glance would say he was in his early thirties but carried an air and facial expression that made him seem older and unquestionably in charge, including a cocky smirk. It sat on top well-formed beefy body of about 220 lbs of pure muscle. “Hey Sarge.” Devon said breathlessly and with a big dopey grin on his face. The guy must have been one of his conquests from last year’s party, though he didn’t look like a guy you could call a conquest. Probably the other way around. I guess Devon met his match. “Who’s your preppy friend here?” Sarge looked me over with an unmistakable predatory look. Oh yeah. He must have been the one chasing Devon last year and turned the tables on him. No wonder he wanted to come back this year. He must have liked someone picking him out from a crowd instead. “The name’s Chris.” I extended a hand out to him. “I don’t usually dress like this. I guess I should have bought something a little more festive and casual.” He reached out to take my hand in a nice firm grip, one clearly meant to establish his dominance. “Didn’t mean anything by it, boy. Looks good enough on you.” The comment caused that smirk of his to inch up a little bit higher. “Thanks.” “Met Devon here at last year’s party. Got to know each other real well. I hope we can do the same.” “Oh, come on Sarge! Don’t hog everyone to yourself.” Unnoticed, another one of the Marines had come up beside me. He was tall, at least 6’5” and packed to the gills with brawn. He wore a camo tank exposing his vascular arms and the deep cleft in his chest. He had a light mocha colored skin hinting at a biracial ancestry along with his head of tight curls. His eyes were a bright green and when he noticed that I noticed him he flashed me a big white smile that, unlike Sarge’s smirk radiated nothing but warmth and friendliness. “I don’t know what you are talking about Daryl. Just being friendly with the new boy.” “I know you Sarge. You’ll keep them all to yourself the whole time. Let them come and get to know everyone. What do you say, um, sorry what was your name?” “Chris.” "Want to come join me?” As he said this he put his big paw in the small of my back gently while gave me more of his big bright smile. “Sure!” I said, probably a little to excitedly. “I’d like meet everyone else.” This guy really revved my engine. “You guys go ahead.” Devon said. “I’m going to catch up with Sarge. I’ll see you later.” And with that, Sarge put his arm around Devon like he was a prized possession and shuffled off to another part of the party. Meanwhile, Daryl gestured me over to the party so I followed, his hand still on my back and guiding me there. “Those two will be off having fun for a while,” I said to Daryl “so I guess it will be just us right now.” “Well, I hope you find me just as fun.” His hand was now rubbing me gently up and down my back. He was definitely flirting with me. “What are the odds of two very handsome gay Marines at the same partly?” Daryl chuckled a bit and said “What do you mean?” “I mean, I know there are plenty of gay Marines but it’s kind of lucky that there are such two fine looking ones at the same 4th of July party.” “You mean Devon didn’t tell you? Look around you Chris. Notice anything?” I looked around at all of the guests and then it hit me. It was all men, though that didn’t mean anything by itself. No, it was the way the stood just touch too close to each other, touched each other in subtle way, and look at each other like no two straight guys ever would. “Oh!” “Good job, Eagle Eye.” laughed Daryl. “Hey! I just got here. I would have put it together eventually.” “Why didn’t Devon tell you?” “He’s been mysterious about this whole party since he invited me. He likes to surprise people for his own amusement.” “Here let me take you around.” This time a put an arm around his back too now that I knew no one else would look at me askance. So we mingled together for a while, meeting all the guys. As I had already observed before all the Marines were built like brick houses. Some of them were clear show offs. More than a few offered to let you touch their biceps while they flexed or showed off how many push-ups or pull ups they could do. One guy, Eric, an Asian guy with clean shaved head did about 50 handstand push up in a row. As for the other guests most of them were decked out in flag apparel, though a few of them like me just threw together whatever red, white and blue thing they could find. All of them were new to the party like me. After make our way through the crowd I asked Daryl if we could grab something to eat. Partly because I was hungry, but also to get some time to know this man. After we grabbed our food from a Marine in a “Kiss the Cook” apron, (an offer that was taken advantage of several times from what I saw) we found a table we could sit at. “So, how did a whole bunch of gay Marines come together and start having a 4th of July party? Were you like a support group for each other?” “Something like that. We were all in the same program together and we just stayed close.” “Must of have been a hell of a program for you guys to all keep in touch this long afterwards.” Daryl just laughed and said “You have no idea. Enough about me though. Let me hear about you. I know that Devon is all about the uniform, but I’m guessing you have another interest.” As he said this Daryl began to squeeze and flex various muscles. His chest, his arms, his traps all began to twist and bulge under his command. “Is it that obvious?” “Well, you didn’t turn down any invitation to feel some guy flex out there.” “Guilty.” “I thought so. Though, I am a little disappointed. You never asked to feel mine.” I smiled and said “You didn’t ask.” With that he flexed his bi right in front of my face. I reached out and cupped the monstrous thing in both of my hands, eventually beginning to move them all up down the arm as a felt every thick vein and bulge on it. Few minutes later Daryl puts his arm down and feeling the moment was right I leaned in for a kiss. However, he put a finger on my lips, stopped me and said, “No, not yet. After the fireworks.” “Why?” “Trust me. I will be worth the wait.” “Great, now I have another mysterious one.” “Please?” Despite being a big hulk of muscle he flashed me some of the cutest puppy dog eyes I had ever seen. “Fine, but there better be fireworks both figurative and literal.” “I promise.” So we spent the rest of the day together just talking with each other and the other guests until it got dark and they announced it was time for the fireworks. We went out a little further in to the big yard and to where they had set up a stage in front of a tall flag pole and a nice sound system. One of the non-Marine guests was up there doing a sound check. “What’s he there for?” I asked. “Oh, he’s going to sing the National Anthem during the fireworks.” “Wow, you really go full bore don’t you.” “Where’s your patriotism?” “I have a healthy sense of patriotism, but you guys seem to be cramming all of the symbols in at one time.” “It makes for good show. You’ll love it.” I still thought it was a bit much, but who was I to judge. Everyone started to gather around and soon all the lighting and equipment was ready to go, including a nice bright spotlight at the top of the flag pole. Then, as someone was raising a couple flags on the pole everyone went silent. All the non-Marines we especially excited, looking like they could barely contain themselves, except the newbies like me. They looked just as confused by all the excitement as I was. When the flags reached the top all the Marines stood at attention in unison and saluted the American and Marine Corps flags. Even Daryl, a guy I had gotten to know that day as being pretty laid back, was standing completely ridged. Soon I saw the fireworks begin as they exploded their colors across the sky. Then the music for the Star-Spangled Banner began and the singer, in nice sonorous voice began to sing. Oh-oh say can you see… As he began sing and I put my hand over my heart I could feel a buzz in the air, like something big underneath the surface was staring to begin. What so proudly we hailed…. It was partly intangible, like the excitement I saw in everyone else was beginning to spread to me. But I also could swear that heard something over all the noise and commotion. Like a stretching sound. Whose broad stripes and bright stars…… When I looked over at Daryl I could have sworn he had gotten bigger. As I Iooked more closely I realized where the stretching sound was coming from. His already wide lats were expanding causing him to strain his tank top to the limit. O’er the ramparts we watched…. The sounds of threads popping began as his expanding body was causing his shirt to surrender to the pressure. Those same sound started to come from all around me as I Iooked around and saw that all the Marines were starting to grow. And the rocket’s red glare….. The feeling was also growing, changing from excitement into…arousal. An intense arousal that was taking me over. As the Marines’ growing bodies continued to rend their clothing into rags my horniness grew until, without even thinking about it, my left hand started to find its way to my cock, slowly rubbing it through my pants until I was rock hard. Gave proof through the night…. I wasn’t the only one. Anyone who wasn’t a Marine was currently fully erect. They were either pawing at their groins over their pants or had already brought out their dicks into the open air as I was currently trying to do. As my hand tried to satisfy the uncontrollable urge to touch my cock I looked over to Daryl, continuing to be perfectly still while saluting the flag, to see his growth had already accelerated to the point that his tank and even his pants had been halfway reduced to rags. His already large chest had doubled in size causing a large tear down the front to match the tears in the sides caused by his now gigantic lats. Both his ankles and rippled midsection were visible as he also appeared to have grown taller, easily past 7’ at this point. His thighs had almost completely destroyed the legs of his camo pants and his shoes had already split the seams and the soles were being crushed by his growing feet. Oh, say does that star-spangled banner yet wave…. As the buildup to the crescendo of the song began the growth accelerated so that in a couple of seconds what was remaining of the Marines’ clothes quickly exploded off of their bodies until they stood there in all their naked glory, including thick shanks of meat between their thighs that defied any normal human dimensions. O’er the land of the freeeeeeeeeeee……. As the singer held the note I saw Daryl’s cock inflate to full hardness in the blink of eye, causing a loud thwack as hit him just below his pecs. Two bowling ball sized testicals hanging down below in a large sack. All of his compatriots quickly followed as most of the other regular guests, including me, had managed to free their cocks and were furiously jacking them with their left hands as their right stayed over their hearts. And the home of the braaaa-aa—a—aave… As the singer finished the song he collapsed on the stage, apparently unable to hold back an orgasm he had been suppressing this whole time. Other guests around me had also released at this point. I was on the edge myself when Daryl suddenly snapped out of his trance and came to. Looked over and down to me from his new found height and smiled as he grabbed the front of my shirt and lifted me as if I were nothing till we were face to face. Then he grabbed the back of my head and pulled me in for the most intense kiss I had ever had in my entire life, making the load I was holding back shoot out in one intense moment of bliss. When he was done Daryl pulled be back and said “Well, was it worth the wait?”
    13 points
  49. Not mine but id be happy to chat about it, if you are the author please let me know so I can credit you The Ultimate Fuck by [email protected] It was a hot, steamy afternoon. Two of my pals, Shane and Glen, wanted to head over to the beach. I agreed, and we were off. The beach was a secluded one, with lots of rocks where the mountains met the sea. It was a common spot for the gay crowd to strut their stuff. Shane was clad in a ripped pair of jeans; Glen had taken off his shorts, revealing his pocket thong. I was a bit more conservative, unveiling a black string bikini. I was getting hot at the sights of my friends. I suggested that we climb to the top of one of the rocks, and enjoy a massive, unending orgy up there. Shane and Glen agreed, and equally welcomed the challenge. Once atop the rocks with a reddish sunset upon us, Shane, Glen and I commanded the heavens to unleash the ultimate gay power upon us as we all came together. The reddish hue of the skies suddenly blackened as a powerful storm appeared. We dismounted from the apex of the rocks, and headed for shelter. We ran for a nearby church as thunder approached. The massive storm hurled huge bolts of lighting down, hitting the steeple of the church repeatedly. Eventually, the cross caught fire and fell to the roof below. The old, wooden roof of the church began to burn and within minutes much of the roof was ablaze. Seeking shelter, Shane, Glen, and I approached the entry of the church and took a brief look inside to see what was happening. We saw the burning rafters collapsing down upon the altar, setting the interior on fire. Immediately behind the altar on the back wall was a life-size replica of jesus, crucified to a wooden cross. Under the intense heat, the flames began to lick at the base of the cruciform, setting it on fire too. We watched intensely as the replica of jesus became engulfed in the inferno. Just as we were all about to turn around and go, an fiery upheaval erupted from the floor of behind the altar . A massive column of fire burst up from the basement. The heat was so intense that deep within the orangish, red hues of the flames we thought we saw black fire. The blackened fire rose higher, and higher and took the form of what appeared to be three snake-like creatures thrusting upward from below. Eventually, the python-sized serpents began coiling around the blackened cruciform of jesus on the back wall. "Holy shit", Shane exclaimed, "something weird is going on here." Alas, within the coil of the snake-like creatures, the charred jesus began to transform. Shane, Glen, and I watched in amazement.... Huge reddish muscles began to form: giant pecs exploded from the upper torso, ripped abs grew below. Massive legs arms and legs, bigger than some tree trunks, began to grow and were equally muscle bound. The face was well chiseled, with a strong jaw and cheekbone. The hair was unkept, blowing in the fiery updraft, as pair of phallic horns emerged. A pair of wings began to emerge from behind the broad back and shoulders, and grew to nearly the full width of the altar area. The wooden cruciform, under the intense heat, began to give way. The being began to awaken, revealing intensely red, piercing eyes. "Dear God!" Shane exclaimed, "The Beast has been ressurected." The Beast, now unleashed from the restraints of the cross, flew out of the flames toward us. He landed in the central area of the church, several yards before us. He must have stood 10 feet tall; His wings nearly spanned the full width of the church. He began to flex His muscles as He became aware of His newfound being. The three serpents continued to coil around His incredible muscular build. One by one, He uncoiled the snake-like creatures and lowered them down between His legs where they hung flaccid, reaching down to the floor and beyond. We watched in awe... He arched His back and thrust His legs and hips forward. Three massive bolts of lightning thundered down from the heavens, striking each serpent, endowing it as a penis upon the Beast. His penises began erecting, one rising upward toward the ceiling, must have been nearly 20 feet long! His other two cocks grew long and thick below the pews. As these two penises began to rise, His erection was so powerful that it ripped out several rows of pews. Flaming precum began spewing from His thrashing penises. The fire department finally arrived at the church. A pair of firemen charged in the front door, carrying fire hoses, followed by the pastor with a garden hose. Aware of the immense being before them, the firemen aimed their hoses upon the reddish Beast. The intense water pressure aroused the Beast so much that His fiery precum ignited His penises into flamethrowers. The fiery ejaculation was so hot that it overpowered the hoses, turning all of the water into steam. Within the Hellish inferno, the Beast coiled His penises around the firemen and pastor. Shane, Glen and I each maintained a hard-on through the event. Our dicks were quivering with the unknown of what was to come. A deep voice echoed from the Beast, commanding us to kneel. "Thou shalt feel the ultimate gay power to have ever existed - SATAN!" "In return, I will command your souls for eternity." Shane, Glen, and I dropped to our knees in awe. We assumed a prayer position, and felt Satan's temptation. We looked at each other and agreed. "Fuck us, almighty Satan," Shane exclaimed. "Give us the ultimate gay experience and our souls are yours," Glen pleaded. "Endow us," I prayed, "as is thoust!" We watched in anticipation... Satan's three penises grew toward us, wrapping around each of us, encoiling us. I felt one wrap around my ankle, turning around my thigh, until it rose up between my legs. The head was still hot - a small series of sparks rose from within it, charring my shorts. The heat felt good against my penis, making it grow even harder. Within minutes, my dick had broken free from the burnt fabric! His penis continued it growth around my torso, up over my shoulder and around my neck. Shane and Glen were equally engulfed in Satan's other two penises. Satan began flexing His wings upward, ripping the roof wide open. He began to fly, lifting Shane, Glen and myself airborne as well. The feeling as I dangled below Satan flying, encoiled within His massive serpent penis, was incredible. We paused briefly over two spots below, where some sort of fiery accident had occurred. I watched in awe as Satan extended His penis, the one that was wrapped around me, down into the flames. As it emerged ablaze, Satan howled in ecstacy, with His newfound possession. My cock pulsated in wonder over what I had just witnessed. Soon, we came up upon a huge mountain, rising from the land below. As Satan approached the top, I could tell that this was no mountain, it was a damn volcano. Satan continued up and flew us into the open top of the volcano. We landed on the soft, barren surface of the dormant volcano. Satan released us from the restraints of His dicks, with no possibility of escape. Standing before us, He commanded: "Prepare to receive my fury as I endow thee!" Shane, Glen, and I stood before the God of Hell. An enormous phallic tail rose from Satan's ass, and proceeded to grip Shane within its coil. Satan lifted Shane with ease, and drew him closer and closer to His ass. Glen and I watched in wonderment as Satan pulled Shane's body toward His ass, head first. At the same time, Satan unleashed two of His cocks upon Glen. Each one wrapped around every one of Glen's appendages. Satan enlarged one of the two penises so large, that its head came down, and clamped itself over Glen's erect dick. The second penis grew into Glen's ass. I watched as its never-ending growth continued into Glen. Satan's third penis wrapped itself around me, as during the flight, and drew me up off the ground. His hand reached out, and wrapped itself around my erect cock. Within minutes, Shane, Glen, and I were in ecstacy. The ultimate power of the best gay lover was upon us, simultaneously no less. But, the price for this needed to be paid. Satan's tail pulled Shane's face fully into His ass, completely engulfing it, as He ripped the soul from Shane. I feet Satan's penis throb at the moment when Shane was transformed. Glen was next... Satan drew out Glen's soul from both ends: the cock clamped down over Glen's penis and the cock growing ever-longer in Glen's ass unleashed a massive, fiery ejaculation, fucking out Glen's soul. The penis that was wrapped around me grew intensely longer, thicker, and hotter as Satan enjoyed Glen's newfound being. Alas, my turn came: Satan's penis drew me up before the mighty Beast. His penis grew so hot that I could not resist its flaming fury. I could feel His incredible power, weakening me, with each throb of His dick. As I came, I felt the blazing glory of His red eyes cast their vision upon me, searing my soul into His eternal possession. The Ultimate Fuck! As Shane, Glen, and I rose from our demonic transformations, we had grown into massively muscular built beings. So incredibly hot and sexy, that no man would be able to resist our temptations. Our cocks could grow to whatever size we desired. In fact, we too could enjoy the same pleasure as Satan, and fuck the souls of those willing to give. Satan unleashed us from His serpent penises. He was not done yet. He erected all three penises, and drove them down into the belly of the volcano below us. Each of us followed with our newly bestowed endowments, driving them down, deeper and deeper. We felt the orgy as Satan's cocks, intertwined with ours in a molten pot of lava below us. What a fucking feeling! The volcano was weakening under the intense pressure of our flaming cocks. A massive eruption ensued, spewing our blazing semen upward, setting the heavens ablaze, and molten lava flowing down the sides, consuming everything in its path Satan returned back into the flaming Hell that created Him, leaving us to enjoy our demonic powers over mankind.
    13 points
  50. Author's Note - As promised the next section. Again, my thanks as expressed above to everyone. Below is the link to the google doc. Anyone can link to it and read it. Like to know if you think this is a better format, just publishing the doc link or a hybrid between them as this post is.... LINK to Chapter 10.3.d in Google Docs . The pics at the bottom show the approximate muscle and size difference between John, Gabriel, Clawson, and Braden Chapter 10 - The Titan on Olympus - Part 3d - Coeus Emerges “My angels and my demons / They don't know their place / Ready or not, they're gonna come out and play.” ~ In This Moment, Half God Half Devil Immediately after the events of Chapter 10.3c - 2 Oct 2020 - 9.5 months after the accident It took about two minutes of hallway reconnoitering for John, Gabriel, and Clawson to reach the employee training room. Despite the ubiquitous, nondescript taupe and white hallway, it was obvious this room was MUCH larger inside. It took up its own side of a hall, accessed by four sets of double doors - two sets of which were much taller and wider for equipment and catering trolleys - or John without his usual acrobatics - to fit through. Outside waiting at one of the shorter doors was Braden with a very confused look on his face. He looked first to Clawson, “The Security Director asked me to meet you here. What’s up?” However, it was John who answered the question, “Best if we talk about that inside. Don’t you agree, MISTER Clawson?” Clawson merely nodded his head yes as he unlocked the doors, walked inside, and turned on a wall panel of lights. Gabriel glanced at the young man and noted his confusion seemed even deeper than before. At some level, he must have sensed that the person in control of the situation had changed… GOOD, Gabriel thought. That will make things easier when he understands his purpose here and what he will be seeing. Ever since Gabriel put it all together, the something deep inside that wanted to right whatever it was that was so wrong about Clawson had been boiling toward the surface in waves. He had NEVER felt this before. Part of it was the confidence that John obviously had in him to do this… THIS...THIS. But, Gabriel was a surgeon. He knew confidence. THIS kind of confidence though - it touched something he had only scarcely felt before in his life - it was primal, genetic, like it was bred into him. He had felt some version of this when he felt his own Predator before, but that was like eating a single communion wafer while this was like ten bags of Oreos at once. He was very near to drowning in the feelings, and they were just getting stronger. God what he wanted to do to Clawson was… As the last of Gabriel slid into the background he thought, was the Predator incomplete all those other times? Was he only partly awake when he felt it before, because this… Fucking Hell this was incomparable. No wonder John had to fight the urge not to lose himself completely. If this is even close to what he felt like when the “Demon” was in control, fuck it was intoxicating. And, it wasn’t even fully controlling him… yet. But if this went on… it would. He knew he was going to lose himself to it, but he welcomed it. Let it come. Gabriel stopped thinking about it and surrendered to the feelings. By the time the doors to the room were closed and locked, the part of him that was Gabriel had totally stepped into the background. Like John’s relationship to the Predator piece of himself when this happened, Gabriel was still there, still somewhat of a contributor to situations and choices, but mostly only an observer. Predator/Gabriel was in control now. John felt HIM through their connection. And it surely was a HIM. GOOD GOD HE is so strong, John thought. The sheer power of Gabriel’s Predator. John was honestly not sure if they were ever together fully on equal terms in an equal adversarial match, which Predator would win. Gabriel’s was that strong. He was sure Gabriel had never felt this before, never felt the GIANT part of him fully awake. This Predator was different from his, John could tell - a reflection of Gabriel still at his core, just like John was at the core of his Predator. But that didn’t make HIM any less; hell, it could very well make him even more than John. Gabriel did not have John’s abilities and still he knew Gabriel’s Predator was a true and equal rival. Maybe that did make him stronger…. Now, all John could do was hope he had taught Gabriel enough to not make the same mistakes he had made when he felt his own Predator unleashed the first time - which resulted in him almost killing a man. “So, now that we are alone, are you going to let me in on what’s going on?” Braden asked, now more than a little nervous. Had he done something so terrible that John and Gabriel were here to witness his dressing down, his being fired. What had he done that was so wrong? The concern was all over Braden’s square-jawed face. John answered, but said only one word. It was the word that would add the fire that was his empowered lover to the crucible he had made. The word that would finish the change and allow Gabriel’s Predator to fully control everything. This word would signal to Gabriel’s Predator that John’s own Predator would stand back and follow… but just for him. John knew he was about to unleash the beast. And he was FUCKING PROUD to do it when he said that one word -- He looked at his soon-to-be husband, “Gabriel...” *** Predator/Gabriel began. First thing John noticed was his Predator’s voice. It was not ultra-deep and bad boy like his own. It was a deeper baritone than Gabriel’s normal voice, true, but it was more controlled, even more certain, but more… tempting?. It was like John might have imagined the great kings of English history - the ones who could motivate whole armies with just a few words. They were in his noble blood after all, just as the bad boy was in John’s. The precise tone of command mixed with seduction was fucking sexy as all fuck to John. The power in that voice made even him want to submit to the half-Angel, half-Demon’s will. God only knows what that voice could do to the littles in the room. John had the briefest thought of Clawson both cumming in ecstasy and crying and begging in a corner, just from Gabriel’s words. Predator/Gabriel totally ignored Clawson at first. He turned his back to the supposed leader, pulled a chair around to sit down with the back of the chair against his chest - like a jock - before he answered, “First, Braden, you have no need to worry at all about anything here. Don’t be afraid. I… WE... John and I, WE guarantee your safety in this room. You are here only as a witness, and you need only take part in what is going to happen if you wish to. You are secure here to be who you really are and to speak your mind as it really is. There will be no consequences to you. “Let me worry about Clawson back there,” Predator/Gabriel said in as dismissive a tone as John had ever heard. “He is my worry now, not yours. There are no cameras or microphones here. There are two armed Metro Las Vegas police officers around the corner, rather than casino security, if at any time you think you need them. But allow me to ask you just one question and please answer honestly… do you really think you need them with myself and John around?” Braden’s reply was crisp, instant, so fast it had to be instinctual. Gabriel recognized the particular sound of the crispness - Braden had once been in the military. He didn’t know which branch of service yet, but his senses said he was a Marine or like one of his own special forces men. “No, Doctor York. I don’t think. I KNOW I won’t need them. I know who real men are…” Then his eyes shifted to Clawson ever so briefly before he said, “and who they are not, and I know how to judge between the two. As long as either of you say I have no need of those officers outside, I don’t. I trust you Doctor York. And you too Mr. Declann.” Predator/Gabriel beamed a drop-dead sexy, powerful smile. A smile that could inspire confidence and trust even in the most shell-shocked man on the battlefield. “Please, we are Gabriel and John to you from now on. No reason for you to be formal with us again, especially with what you are about to see. We know that you respect us, just as we respect you. In fact… the informality may make some of the next few minutes even easier. Gabriel leaned forward in the chair a bit, allowing it to slide onto two legs. “Now, to answer your question - As I am sure you are aware, your - huh-,” Predator/Gabriel gave a contemptuous, throw away point back toward Clawson, “boss here suspected us of cheating. “Well, after a discussion with your security officials and revealing a bit concerning who John and I really are away from Las Vegas, that question was settled at once. I will leave it to John to tell you more about exactly who we are when he thinks it is wise. But, I will say that your security director will be speaking with the owners about why this,” Gabriel allowed out an almost imperceptible mocking snicker, “individual stopped the son of a member of the British House of Lords working for the American government and a Federal Law Enforcement investigator who still has cases before the courts, though he is retired, and made a baseless accusation of cheating. And if it helps, something you said when we first met back on the stairs…” Predator/Gabriel cocked his head and looked at Braden expectantly, directly in the eyes, “Kyle Brady. Remember…” Braden’s eyes lit up as soon as he heard the name. Even Predator/Gabriel was amazed that one reminder was all it took. The witnesses in the steroid case understood of course. But this… figuring THIS out without being told had never happened before. Until now. Braden looked up at John and partially stood at attention. “Mr Declann, you don’t have to answer of course, but I have to ask. John Declann, Kyle Brady, the Predator of Bodybuilding, the Titan…” Braden looked up into John’s eyes almost expectantly, “the Apex Predator???” At that, John KNEW he had chosen very well, even better than he thought possible. Gay, bodybuilder, and smart as fuck. FUCK, smart barely covered what he had just done. Brilliant. He could not have put the pieces together better himself. “The APEX PREDATOR himself.” John confirmed, introducing himself. Braden nodded understanding, while a look of total confusion was plastered over Clawson’s face. Braden then stood even taller, even more respectfully, and repeated something he remembered from a press announcement, “Then, I am also going to assume, it is safe to say that the nation owes you a debt of gratitude SIR. And so do I. That one man can make a difference. I am a Marine, Sir. A Marine MP when I was on active duty and now in the Reserves. I was part of the Camp Pendleton team for Apex Predator, my last week before I mustered out. Semper Fi, SIR. Goddamn, Semper Fi. I know now more than ever you know what that means. You live it.” He looked at Predator/Gabriel. “Both of you.” Predator/Gabriel was as proud of Braden at that moment as John’s Predator had once been of him when he figured out all that was happening in the case. And John, John was all smiles. Another special little found in the unlikeliest of places - where Skye said he would unexpectedly find them. Braden KNEW who he was in the room with. He knew, and he was PISSED that that shithead of a casino manager everyone hated had forced this issue onto someone who was a HERO, keeping the drugs away from children and helping to clean up his Corps. Predator/Gabriel said. “Thank you. I’m glad you understand now. Because TRUST is a vital commodity that is in short supply in today’s society. Semper Fidelis - Always Faithful. A lesson someone here needs to learn, but we will get to that. “Now, as I was saying, your security management said it was fine with them if we were to finish the searches that need to take place of myself and John --” “But the searching was only for Mister Decl--” Clawson began to interrupt. Predator/Gabriel stopped, stood up and turned around. He stared into Clawson’s eyes with a blue fire so cold that it made the slight male take a reflexive step back, “I would advise you not to interrupt me again nor to speak without permission until we leave this room.” Predator/Gabirel ordered. “I am not one of your employees you can treat like shit. You know, it occurs to me... I COULD interpret what you were about to say as meaning that you provoked this entire situation just as a pretext to allow you to grope my fiance and his body while pretending to search him?” Near-panic gripped Clawson’s face and he slid further backwards from Predator/Gabriel without even realizing it. Predator/Gabriel and John knew instantly from that reaction that what the security guards had said was the truth. This was ALL a set-up. Predator/Gabriel had all the information he needed now. Time to play the game... “You do understand the consequences if that little revelation were to have made it out of this room over those microphones we took away from you. IF it were true, I am sure you could imagine just how upsetting such a pretext would be to me AND my husband-to-be.?” Frozen into honesty by sheer terror that his secret was out, Clawson just nodded yes, he understood. “BUT,” Predator/Gabriel said, with that lilt of temptation John had detected earlier now even stronger. “No one outside of this room has to know. Do they? It could all just disappear, IF you do one simple thing. Obey. The simplest of concepts even for a child. Just obey. And your first step in obedience is that you will be totally honest with me in anything I ask from now on. Keeping in mind the consequences of what could happen if the owners were to learn THAT truth. Am I clear?” “Yes, Sir.” Clawson replied. “And you agree to that one simple thing to do for me to keep that eventuality from happening?” Predator/Gabriel practically cooed as he walked to within inches of Clawson. “Yes, Sir.” Clawson said barely above a whisper. Predator/Gabriel replied, with that same tempting lilt but with a quiet menace. “Excellent. And so you are also equally clear - I do not enjoy repeating myself.” Predator/Gabriel turned around in an almost military facing movement and walked back to his seat again totally ignoring Clawson, who had sunk into a chair panting and sweating from fear of the situation he found himself in looking like he was going to faint. Predator/Gabriel resumed as if the whole incident never happened, “Now, as I was saying, both of us need to be searched according to your security officials, Braden. Something we found out from the TSA flying to Las Vegas is that it is a LOT easier and faster to search me than John given all that MUSCLE and HEIGHT.” John cracked the briefest of smiles as he picked up again on the “temptation sound” in some of Predator/Gabriel’s words around his body. John thought he read what was happening; so, he followed Gabriel’s lead and leaned back against one of the walls of the room and folded his arms across his chest. He remained totally relaxed and unflexed, but the wall still screamed its protest from John’s eight hundred pounds of pure power leaning on it at all. “I think I will be the one to begin.” Predator/Gabriel said, still looking toward John and Braden but cracking a bit of a smile at John’s addition. “You find that agreeable?” “Yes Gab-” Clawson began. Gabriel/Predator swung around instantly and cut Clawson off with a glare. His voice practically rumbled menace as he said, “Let me make one more thing clear - you will address myself and my fiancé properly. YOU have not been given permission to say one goddamned syllable of my given name or John’s, and I am going to add Braden to that right now as well. HE has been given permission; You have not. Now, how do you address me?” “Yes Sir.” “And John AND Braden.” “The same… Sirs.” Clawson seemed to have some amount of the lifeforce drained from him as Gabriel made him call Braden Sir. “I do not wish to have to clarify myself again…” Gabriel turned back to Braden. “Now, I know that like any good enlisted Marine, it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up to be called Sir. But, I hope you will indulge me in his case.” Braden smiled devilishly, “Of course, Gabriel. Happy too.” “Now, I guess we should get this bloody fucking show on the road. But, before I do - Braden. I know I said you didn’t have to participate in any of this except to watch. But, I would ask if you could perform a very important favor for me?” Predator/Gabriel looped through and removed his cufflinks. “These cufflinks are over a century old. They belonged to my great-great-grandfather. He wore them the day he was knighted and invested as the Viscount Severn by then King Edward. My father gave them to me the day I graduated medical school. The only thing more precious to me than these cufflinks in this room is John himself. I would give them to him for safe-keeping BUT - since he is going to be stripped down too and he is … well… MASSIVE, I want to make sure they do not get lost by falling out of his clothes or mine. Can I trust you to hold onto them for me and keep them safe? Even if you do participate, you will be the best person to hang onto them for me since you are not having to strip. Can I trust you to do that?” Braden held out his hand, and Predator/Gabriel placed his cufflinks into it, “Of course Docto-” Predator/Gabriel held up a finger, and Braden caught himself, “Gabriel. It would be an honor. They could not be safer.” Predator/Gabriel smiled, “See, I knew I had you pegged from the start. You can’t ever take the Marine out of a Marine. Blonde hair in a high and tight fade, clean shaven, though most everyone our age, me and John included, has a beard. You even walk like a Marine. You and John will get along FAMOUSLY. In fact, maybe I can trust you to guard BOTH the most precious things to me in this room while I finish this.” The three MEN in the room, minus Clawson who sat as if he were in a stupor, laughed. “I think you would be better guarding me, John. I doubt anyone in existence would be stupid enough to try anything with you, but I promise you - they’ll have to get through me to get to a whisker on that chin.” Braden smiled as both Predator/Gabriel and John knew - he may have said it partly in jest, but Braden also meant it. Every word. Family took care of family. And independently both John and Gabriel felt that they were quickly adding the young man to their family of protected - the first since Brenda Heath. “You two should swap military stories sometime. But for now, why don’t you both just sit back and relax and let me and this ahhh… hmmm…” Gabriel rotated slightly to look at the lump behind him appearing a bit perplexed. “You know it’s hard to know just what to call you Clawson. Can’t recall ever having this issue with anyone before… You know how to address me but what do I call you… Have to think about it for a moment, but for now let’s go with - this person… Allow myself and this person here to finish what we need to do.” John reached over and removed his jacket, leaving on his compression tight black t-shirt that fit more like bodypaint than cloth right now. He laid out the jacket across the backs of several chairs and then slid down the wall, its creaking groans becoming even louder as he now used the wall as a backrest to support even more of the enormous weight of his lats and traps. Now seated, John’s slacks were fitting rather tightly, compressing against the pumped muscle here too. John spread open his legs a bit in front of him. He patted the carpet in front in the space between his quads - quads that were each as big around as Braden’s chest - signalling for Braden to come and have a seat with him. As wide and tall as John was, what would have been insanely provocative didn’t look that unusual. There could have been loads of space between John’ body and Braden’s at his size. But, John had felt what Gabriel had wanted him to do, and he was only too willing to do it. The invitation had many purposes. First and most important, Braden had promised to keep John safe, and John wanted to make sure Braden knew he was totally safe now - from what was about to happen to his boss, from reprisal, from anything. It also served the purpose of ratcheting up the pressure on Clawson, as it was the one place he had so wanted to be, the reason he had done all of this pretense. Clawson craved being between John's legs - but he was made to watch as someone else took the spot. Braden looked surprised at first, but then rather happily accepted John’s invitation after Gabriel gave it a head nod of assent. As John crossed his ankles, encircling Braden in perfected, impenetrable muscle power, indeed, there was no safer place on Earth. With John and Braden both in each other’s good hands, Predator/Gabriel turned his attention back to Clawson. “OK, searching me for signs of cheating? I believe that was the story. I suppose that means I should start with my shirt, yes? You should be ready to PAT me down, or whatever it was you were planning on doing. I suppose you could be surprised at what you find...” he cooed knowingly. Predator/Gabriel started to unbutton his shirt, agonizingly slowly. He knew EXACTLY what was under that shirt and also how John was right about the level of body he had not being really visible in a well-tailored custom button down. John smirked down at Braden as Braden looked up confused. John could tell, Braden was wondering why Gabriel looked like he was almost doing a strip-tease act. John, ever so gently, and almost invisible to the others in the room, patted Braden’s back as if to say, “You’ll see.” Predator Gabriel was only two buttons down, when he began to talk to Clawson, with a strange sense of nonchalantness, “You know, the way I have been growing into my workouts lately. Some people have wondered, if either myself or John, has the better muscle quality. I mean sure, John is bigger of course. There is no doubt about him outmassing and probably outpowering every person in Las Vegas by a mile. That is no contest. But some of our friends say that I have better shape and symmetry. Some say it’s him. We know who has more size, but who has the better quality of muscle, so to speak, David or Goliath over there. A friend of mine suggested we have a little contest some time with someone to judge who is better. Really get up close and study the problem and give us an answer. But, we need a judge, someone to examine us both and therein lies the problem. Our friends… Well, they are our friends. They’re biased. We really need someone who doesn’t know us at all to make the judgement. Better yet, someone who isn’t biased about any muscle shape or body type. There are not that many people who fit the bill of not knowing about muscle but who are interested in exploring muscle.” Clawson looked to be salivating as Predator/Gabriel took a step forward, but made sure his shirt stayed mostly closed. “You… person there… Do you know anyone who might have fit that bill? Which one of us is better keeps me and John up at night… among other things some judge might be interested in.” Predator/Gabriel decided to drill into Clawson even more as he turned back to his MEN - four of nine buttons down. “Braden, in other circumstances, I might have asked your boss… this person…” Gabriel seemed to mock frustration. “Fucking hell, he needs a more appropriate name, since, let’s just be honest here, he is in no way your superior. Need to think of a name... anyway, you would be awesome to judge, but again, you know too much about muscle. You have made it and built it and you know about discipline being a Marine. Since he knows neither of us and fills the bill in every other respect, AND we are having to strip down to our fucking underwear and be visually searched, inspected… groped…. Maybe this… whatever would have worked. “BUT - he has made eyes at my fiancé. He admitted he just wants to search John there. So, he is biased, so that’s out.” Predator/Gabriel shifted his eyes almost evilly toward Clawson again, though never turning back toward him, “Unless you REALLY are not biased. Maybe that is something to explore. Might even help me with what to call you that fits. Might even let you plead your case to judge…” Predator/Gabriel allowed that to hang in the air and smiled as they all saw Clawson lick his lips twice totally unconsciously. Predator/Gabriel’s subtle mental attack was breaking Clawson - he would be ready to take more soon. And then more, and then more… while he became less, and less, and less, until he was finally scraps of a homo sapiens littered across the ground. Predator/Gabriel turned back to Braden. “Let me ask you about his bias. I am sure you have watched him, been around him. He seems like the best prospect for a judge… except… “I want to ask you a question, and, again, I want you to know you are totally safe in answering it. I am marrying a man who understands we leave none that we care about alone or behind. You heard him say it, and I know you have seen him live it. I KNOW you understand that too… Marine.” At the same moment, John softly patted Braden's back to let him know he agreed. John quite literally had his back. “Go ahead. I’ll answer any question about anything you want to know. I am guarding the “family jewels” so to speak.” They all laughed again. “Then… your … Jesus Fucking Christ he needs a name… I swear it will be the last time I call him this, but have you ever caught your boss here making eyes at you? Looking at your body? Making you do things around the casino that he could do himself just to watch how strong you are? Has he ever done it to anyone else?” Braden swallowed for a moment, but then felt John at his back. He knew he was safe. He just sensed Clawson would never touch him again. Clawson would never touch ANYONE after he left this room ever again. “Yes, he has Gabriel. A LOT. I think every shift we have together he finds some reason to find me and make me do shit. Just useless SHIT. Shit that usually makes me take my jacket off. I even keep an old shirt in my employee locker so I don’t get my collared shirt dirty by doing some of it. But, it is not only me. “He has everyone on staff he can get around who has any muscle mass at all doing something. Tony and Sergio, other security, the club bouncers, dealers, repair staff - anyone. Hell, he made Tony, Sergio, me and a couple of others actually pick up a car to be towed once even though the tow truck fellows are expert at getting anything out of any spot around here. He loves to make us move the large bottles of CO2 for the drink fountains in the restaurants. Rearrange the video machines in the casino just slightly to one side of the other. Once…” Braden became quiet, as this one really crept him out, but he wanted to lay it all out. “Once I swear he even followed me to the gym.” “Is that so?” Predator/Gabriel said with a knowing glance to Clawson. He loosened another button. Three to go. “Huh. That sounds about right from what I have been able to read off of him. Makes me wonder.... You REALLY think he could have judged this contest for us or would he just become another fucking PRICK like so many do around muscle and lose it so bad that the white matter in his head would liquify and start dribbling out?” “It might be a real challenge for him, Gabriel. Not to lose it I mean. Still… to my knowledge he has never felt any muscle beyond feeling for the doneness of a prime rib in the kitchens. So he can at least poke a muscle. He might be the one you are looking for. I mean, you’ve got to make sure all of that white is liquified or the roast isn’t done. He has poked a lot of them looking for that liquid fat to come out all on its own. So in that regard, he might be able to do it.” Braden replied. John couldn’t help but pat Braden's back again. This time in congratulations as he was smiling widely. He got a fucking neurosurgeon double entedre without even trying. John and Predator/Gabriel both shot through their connection the same feeling - he is so worth it. He is one - one of the few. Predator/Gabriel turned to Clawson, his mouth now agape and almost drooling with what he was hearing. There were but two buttons to go… And then one... “Alright. As you America’s say, that is so appropriate for Las Vegas, I am willing to roll the dice with you. Now it is up to you. You think you’re up to settling this muscle dispute?” The last button was unfastened. “CAN YOU HANDLE IT?” And then-- Predator/Gabriel dropped his shirt to the floor, revealing the SKIN-TIGHT white low cut wife beater tank he was wearing under his black shirt. His hidden muscle was hidden no more. He had the natural pump he seemed to get when his Predator was directing his posing. Adding to that the rice and chicken and alcohol had hit Predator/Gabriel’s system. His body was truly stage worthy in the most masculine way possible. His veins were MASSIVELY THICK for his size, and his muscles were popping like mad. The cleft between his pecs had never looked better and deeper, even when those pecs were fully pumped in the gym. Ripped, striated short fingers of muscle reached for each other over the deep canyon. His nipples were visible in outline, but pushing down on the cloth. His arms were roiling with thick cords of perfect, lean but thick muscle, seemingly fighting for a place on his body as he moved. Melon shoulder caps, peaked traps, abs and obliques just visible through the thin cotton of the shirt. His black suit pants hanging on his pelvis, making that waist look even narrower as his shoulders and lats did so on the other side. A devilishly sexy smile you wished you could bottle as an aphrodisiac graced his lips that even John had never seen. If anything, he was even more the titanic force of a perfect physique sized body as he was when he had posed for the pros a few hours prior. Clawson made a high pitched wailing sound that was akin to one of the women’s gasp of pure lust as Predator / Gabriel’s rock hard muscle model body was revealed. Braden’s eyes got a lot bigger in shock, while from behind John just patted Braden’s shoulder harder. John could sense Braden was pouring off sexual desire as much as Clawson was at that moment. Dilated eyes, panting, raised heartbeat, sweat. Only difference was Braden deserved those feelings and one day soon the pair of lovers would elevate them beyond what Braden could comprehend. Clawson on the other hand…. Predator/Gabriel looked almost like cocky John as he took a few steps around, allowing the exposed parts of his upper body to be taken in and admired and allowing the silence to crush Clawson’s mind further. For perhaps ten seconds he just allowed his natural charisma enhanced by that body to overwhelm the tiny speck of a male before he spoke again. “Well I take it from that little gasp you were not expecting what you’re seeing. You never expected the aristocratic British doctor to look like a smaller version of the muscle God you wanted to fondle, huh? I’d call that a point. Looks like it’s one-nil for me already… that is IF you agree to be our judge…” Predator/Gabriel took a step closer, “...and follow the rules that go with it.” “Rules?” Clawson whispered, his mind shattering under the mental and physical onslaught of overwhelming lust he was experiencing. He wanted to touch, needed to touch, this just looking was killing him. What he would not give to touch… and Predator/Gabriel was about to tighten the screws even more. “Of course there are rules. Are you ignorant or just stupid? Have you ever heard of any contest without rules? You think John and I would let you judge our bodies without rules? You think we are going to allow you to touch us with no rules? This is bodybuilding, muscle sport, not an orgy. Surely you can’t be that stupid? A man in your position - you had to go to college and major in what? Business, Hospitality, Hotel Management - some field of some kind right? Even an American degree mill teaches you about rules.” “I… I… I... never went to college.” Clawson said, admitting the truth to the man who was fast gaining control of him. Anything to touch that… or HIM... Predator/Gabriel burst into mocking laughter. “Oh my God. No wonder… You’re just like....” It occurred to Predator/Gabriel what had happened to get this male where he was. His voice dropped to become slow, menacing, but insanely seductive. Predator/Gabriel began to pace around Clawson’s little body. Ever so “accidentally” allowing his exposed skin to brush Clawson’s hand or neck. He leaned in close, almost whispering as he asked the question. Tempting, Seducing, Intimidating. Crushing... “So who is it? Who do you know? Is it Daddy? Is he the man who has the real power that got you here? Or is it Mommy? Did Mommy get her “widdle man” a job? Who gave you a job that Braden there is one hundred times more qualified for than you?” “My mother … is… CFO of the whole company.” Clawson admitted in defeat. His head hung low. Predator/Gabriel laughed again, but along with the scorn he allowed a couple of his forearm veins to just touch Clawson’s hand. “Hahahahaha…. Goddamn. Mommy knew you couldn't get something on your own didn’t she? She even told you didn’t she? Tell me the truth. You don’t have anything to stand on that is your own. You’ve had everything handed to you your whole life. That’s why you only pretend to be a man. Why you try to belittle and lord over men. But you WANT men too. You want them so bad. You wish you were like men so much. But there is no way you can be a man with nothing to call your own. “Look at John, there. He is ALL MAN. That body just reflects the MAN he is. Already had a decorated career in law enforcement. And now working on a master’s degree in genetics from fucking Johns Hopkins. And blowing those classes out of the water he is so good…. “Braden same thing. He is ALL MAN, That body he has that you want to see so much is just a reflection of the MAN he is. He’s a fucking Marine and works like a MAN and knows all there is to know about his job. Where are you going to university Braden? Bet you got there all on your own.” “I start Stanford Law School next fall. Paying for it with my own savings so I can hold onto my GI Bill for later.” Braden replied. “And me… well just look at me. I’m a doctor from the two best universities on earth. They don’t just hand that to you because of Daddy or Mommy demanding something like some Karen. I am the best in the world at what I do. And my body is a reflection of the man I am inside. “So… truth be told, you’re in a room with three REAL MEN while you’re not a man at all. Look at this little wisp of a body. It is a reflection of the pretend man you are inside. Thin, frail, just like who you REALLY are inside. Hardly seems appropriate to call you anything that has to do with a man anymore now does it? I mean, you’re not a man at all really are you? THAT'S WHY IT'S BEEN SO HARD TO KNOW WHAT TO CALL YOU. You hide behind other men like Braden here or try to lord a position you do not deserve over men to make yourself feel better about what you really are. When I know what you really want to do. What is inside you that calls out to you. That you dream about doing. You feel drawn to be on your knees looking up to proper men begging for your place to serve. Serve us. Serve and obey like a good little judge in our little game. This is your very first chance to serve and obey men like you have wanted all your life. That’s the truth isn’t it?” Clawson just dropped his head, and slowly nodded yes. It was true. He needed to touch… what he was not. Predator/ Gabriel took a step back. “Braden, in the military, do your Marine Gunnery Sergeants accept a silent head nod as an answer to a question?” “No, Gabriel. You have to say it out loud. Loud and proud. No matter what you’ve done or how low you are. Platoon Leader to house mouse. You say “Yes, Gunnery Sergeant” or “Aye, Aye Gunnery Sergeant.” They’ll rip you a new asshole for disrespecting them just nodding silently. In Boot, those Gunny’s are a superior lifeform and you better treat them that way.” “Hear that. You just disrespected me. And these two other men. You know deep down in that withered little soul that .... real MEN are superior to you. We look it, act it, live it. In every way. And we know you are inferior. You have nothing to be proud of that is yours, and you certainly have nothing to be loud about. But, we can try since you like to pretend. So, pretend to be a man and answer me. What I said is ALL the truth isn’t it?” “Yes Sir.” “Good. That’s right. There might be hope for you yet. Not much hope. Let’s be honest. Only thing that might help you is some time up close and personal with MEN who can allow you to feel and know where you belong. Well, it is your lucky day, cause I will teach you where you belong. I give you my word, by the time this evening is out, you will be well on your way to knowing how to get that heart’s desire of yours. And to know what you should be around MEN. “What should I call you? We have established you are no man, and fuck, even a boy has the promise to be a man. The chances of that are so remote that I don’t think boy fits. But I do know what fits you. John, you think the others would mind me adopting their favorite term for a bit? John laughed curtly. “I think they’d be offended if you didn’t. The name certainly fits.” “Then, it is settled. Since you’re not a man and not exactly even a boy and are fascinated with muscle but you are by far the runtiest male in the room, I’ll just call you Runt from now on. Nice to finally meet you Runt.” At that moment, Predator/Gabriel did something that even 3 months ago was unthinkable. He grasped the Runt’s hand in a handshake so crushingly strong, the runt was wincing in pain. He tried to pull away but the skinny 120 pound male had no chance against Predator/Gabriel’s forearm power alone. Gabriel began what felt like a simple single arm dumbbell row, and the runt was pulled instantly out of the chair to his feet. Predator / Gabriel practically spit in the Runt’s face as he asked the pair behind him, “That sound good to you two? How about you, Runt?” “Yes, Sir… please let me go. Please, please.” The runt pleaded, in shock almost reduced to tears. But at the same moment he was pleading for his life helpless in Gabriel’s pumped body and power… something was moving inside the runt’s pants. All three men saw it, and it was greeted with a massive SMILE from Predator/Gabriel. “Hahaha. Looks like the head you were thinking with when you wanted to grope my man is disagreeing with you. Looks like it LOVES me manhandling you. Looks like it says you are wanting more, but… fuck it is as tiny and thin and as nothing as the rest of you.” Gabriel looked up, mockingly serious. “There is a medical condition for male with a micro-dick like that. Called micropenis syndrome. Do you suffer from it? We can treat that now, you know. Just like I am going to treat that fake man inside you to know who you really are.” Predator/Gabriel’s verbal assault had touched something in Braden. He was no bully. He believed with all his heart in protecting the innocent. But his boss, now that he knew beyond doubt that he was using his position to satisfy his lusts and insecurities and had admitted he was just some two-bit peeping tom… Every word Gabriel said was true, and Clawson had admitted it was. Braden reached up for the first time since John touched him, and placed his smaller hand on top of John’s paw. And what John felt Braden do was again amazing. Braden’s fingers began to tap… Morse code. It was fast. A very practiced hand. So light a touch, but so deliberate. There was no mistaking it. He wanted to tell John something but had no chance of being overheard. And somehow he just seemed to know that John would be able to perceive it and understand it. .--. .-.. --.. ..-. ..- -.- -- --- ...- .-. ... .. .-. John smiled broadly - fucking massively broadly as he understood. “P-L-Z / F-U-K / M / O-V-R / S-I-R” John gently pulled Braden’s head back and leaned down to his ear, “He will be so fucked he won’t even know his name. Gabriel WILL MAKE him into Runt before this is done. Believe me. You have a lot to learn yet, a lot to be told and to discover, but after this, after you feel this, and feel more, if you want… I would be proud to take you into our world.” To that, John felt Braden’s hand tightly grip his own and then relax. He felt Braden’s whole body lean back into his abs and pec cleft as he sat there. John knew the answer without it being verbal. Braden had relaxed, and allowed eve